Deception: The lesser part of Valour – Time and Patience
by Colonel James Darson
Post Details
ON:
Deep in the bowels of the Marine Compound, in his newly finished MTAC, James Darson sat like a dark king on his dark throne. The whole room was bathed in shadows, except for the glow of the technicians’ LCARS panels, and the large domed amphitheater screen.
Spanning three decks, and powered by multiple redundant computer cores, this room represented the pinnacle in intelligence gathering and analysis. Originally square, the storage bay had been converted into two parts. One part was an enclosed space off to one side of the bay called “The Cage”, which had been completely secured for all handling of sensitive and classified information. It was equipped with variable transparency windows, which would allow the people inside to work in secret, or look out to the other part.
The other far more impressive part was located directly across. A large domed screen, monitored by a phalanx of technicians, stretched from the deck to the ceiling. Displayed on it were feeds from networks all over the station, all fed into this one room. Sensors, intelligence databases, security reports, all of it.
In the very middle of the room, there was a conference table. It was built to accommodate the entire senior staff and then some, and was equipped with the very latest in technology. Built in water/coffee dispensers, and personal terminals. Behind that, between the table and the cage, on a raised podium, was Darson’s throne.
As he stared ahead at the ghostly schematic of Deep Space 5 and the surrounding space, the biometric secured door opened with a hiss, and admitted the Vulcan Marine ILO, the tall and severe Lt. Calso Chau’saura. She strode over to him quietly, and saluted sharply.
Darson let her hang for a moment as he continued studying the large screen, then waved a hand absentmindedly and said, “At ease, Lieutenant. What have you brought me?”
Chau’saura reached into one of the pockets of her duty uniform and withdrew a PADD, “I have this morning’s analysis and noon reports, as well as the latest information regarding the Romulans sir.”
Darson didn’t look at her as he gave a sigh of contemplation, “Give me the normal reports first, Lieutenant.”
Chau’saura didn’t miss a beat, and settled right into it, “Yes sir. For your pleasure, in the last twelve hours, 214 civilian, 12 Starfleet, and 6 foreign vessels have passed by the space immediately surrounding DS5. 232 in all.”
Darson scowled at the screen, “Any…noteworthy…vessels?”
She nodded slightly, “Yes. A group of Starfleet vessels, new Task Group 38-2, “Puma”. Headed out on an exploration mission. Message came in from the MCO on the flagship, U.S.S. Mombasa…a Major Toron. He sends his complements, and those of his Marines.”
Darson looked on as the sensors records displayed themselves on the high definition screen. The ships flew by, and then froze, important details floating ghostly about them. “Did they say what they were exploring?”
“Negative sir. However, their mission profile and flight plans are a matter of record. I could retrieve the files if you like.”
Darson weighed the options, than said, “Draw them up, and log them later…just for the sake of paperwork. If they’re still in communications range, send out a message with our complements, and wish them ‘good hunting’ wherever they’re going.”
“Consider it done sir.”
“And…following up on task groups 12-5, 12-6, and 13-1?”
“All report condition green sir. No change in status at this time.”
Darson leaned back and said in a deliberately neutral tone, “Anything else? Any other trouble in the sector?”
She hesitated for a second, very brief, but still there. Darson’s head turned slightly in his chair, “Yes, Lieutenant?”
She got over her hesitation and said, “Some pirate activity in the area sir. No casualties reported, although sensors relays in Grid 29-Alpha-9 confirm that at least one ship was lost…however, we have no more information at this time.”
He began to absentmindedly twirl a small bullet he produced from somewhere in his cloak around his fingers, “Are you even sure that it is pirate activity? What exactly do the records show?
She stoically looked ahead, “Admittedly sir, not much. We do have some ship movements, but thus far, pirates have been careful to stay out of range of Starfleet sensor networks…and they have in fact been able to do this with a fair degree of success. In fact, the only indication that an incident occurred is some debris that floated into range. It appeared to have originated from the U.S.S. Legacy. Registry number, UPX-2303. ”
The bullet spun faster and faster around his fingers, becoming a copper colored blur. Then suddenly, with a flick of his hand, it vanished. He held it out in front of him, and stared at the empty hand for a couple of seconds, before clapping them together. When they came apart, the bullet was being twirled in the other hand, “Hmm...the ship that was involved in that escape attempt a few days ago...it supposedly went off on a random course after the attempt was stopped. Was the ship destroyed?"
"I am unable to tell sir. It is a relatively small amount of debrie. A ship could lose it and still function. It must have drifted into sensor range from somewhere beyond the perimeter."
"...What was that ship carrying? It didn't earn its UPX designation for nothing."
"Unknown sir. I haven't been able to locate any records that would shed light on it."
"Hmm...very well Lt. keep me appised on the matter. Now, tell me about the Romulans."
She moved to forward past the conference table and next to a control panel, “Yes sir. As you can see here, the Romulan presence is comprised of mixed military and civilian craft. Two missionary ships and one Warbird. They are currently maintaining high orbit around the station. However, since they are maintaining their cloak, and I have incomplete sensor records to go on, I can at best only extrapolate more precise positions.”
Darson looked carefully at the display, “No, that’s good. Maintain all possible surveillance on them. And I want our Wing Commander to send out some fighter patrols, mixed Valkyries and Razors, and have a flight of Broadswords, weapons configuration C and D. That should be good enough for now. Have the wing commander coordinate with his Fleet counter-part.”
“Yes sir…Sir, is it wise to just let the Romulan’s sit there? The threat they represent-“
Darson held up a hand to stop her, and then extended it to the screen, as if he was trying to grab the ships and station, “Time has indeed taught me patience Lieutenant. I can outlast somebody trying to outlast me, and when they falter,” His hand clenched into a fist, “I will make them SUBMIT!!!” He sat in silence for a couple of seconds, before returning to a more introspective position.
“…” The Vulcan wisely chose to remain silent.
“You are dismissed, Lieutenant.”
As she saluted and walked away, Darson’s internal communications package beeped. Colonel Manheim was sending him a message.
OFF
by Colonel James Darson
Post Details
| Title | Time and Patience | |
| Mission | Deception: The lesser part of Valour | |
| Author(s) | Colonel James Darson | |
| Posted | Mon Jan 19, 2009 @ 3:36am | |
| Location | Deck 72 - MTAC | |
| Timeline | SD6 1145 |
Deep in the bowels of the Marine Compound, in his newly finished MTAC, James Darson sat like a dark king on his dark throne. The whole room was bathed in shadows, except for the glow of the technicians’ LCARS panels, and the large domed amphitheater screen.
Spanning three decks, and powered by multiple redundant computer cores, this room represented the pinnacle in intelligence gathering and analysis. Originally square, the storage bay had been converted into two parts. One part was an enclosed space off to one side of the bay called “The Cage”, which had been completely secured for all handling of sensitive and classified information. It was equipped with variable transparency windows, which would allow the people inside to work in secret, or look out to the other part.
The other far more impressive part was located directly across. A large domed screen, monitored by a phalanx of technicians, stretched from the deck to the ceiling. Displayed on it were feeds from networks all over the station, all fed into this one room. Sensors, intelligence databases, security reports, all of it.
In the very middle of the room, there was a conference table. It was built to accommodate the entire senior staff and then some, and was equipped with the very latest in technology. Built in water/coffee dispensers, and personal terminals. Behind that, between the table and the cage, on a raised podium, was Darson’s throne.
As he stared ahead at the ghostly schematic of Deep Space 5 and the surrounding space, the biometric secured door opened with a hiss, and admitted the Vulcan Marine ILO, the tall and severe Lt. Calso Chau’saura. She strode over to him quietly, and saluted sharply.
Darson let her hang for a moment as he continued studying the large screen, then waved a hand absentmindedly and said, “At ease, Lieutenant. What have you brought me?”
Chau’saura reached into one of the pockets of her duty uniform and withdrew a PADD, “I have this morning’s analysis and noon reports, as well as the latest information regarding the Romulans sir.”
Darson didn’t look at her as he gave a sigh of contemplation, “Give me the normal reports first, Lieutenant.”
Chau’saura didn’t miss a beat, and settled right into it, “Yes sir. For your pleasure, in the last twelve hours, 214 civilian, 12 Starfleet, and 6 foreign vessels have passed by the space immediately surrounding DS5. 232 in all.”
Darson scowled at the screen, “Any…noteworthy…vessels?”
She nodded slightly, “Yes. A group of Starfleet vessels, new Task Group 38-2, “Puma”. Headed out on an exploration mission. Message came in from the MCO on the flagship, U.S.S. Mombasa…a Major Toron. He sends his complements, and those of his Marines.”
Darson looked on as the sensors records displayed themselves on the high definition screen. The ships flew by, and then froze, important details floating ghostly about them. “Did they say what they were exploring?”
“Negative sir. However, their mission profile and flight plans are a matter of record. I could retrieve the files if you like.”
Darson weighed the options, than said, “Draw them up, and log them later…just for the sake of paperwork. If they’re still in communications range, send out a message with our complements, and wish them ‘good hunting’ wherever they’re going.”
“Consider it done sir.”
“And…following up on task groups 12-5, 12-6, and 13-1?”
“All report condition green sir. No change in status at this time.”
Darson leaned back and said in a deliberately neutral tone, “Anything else? Any other trouble in the sector?”
She hesitated for a second, very brief, but still there. Darson’s head turned slightly in his chair, “Yes, Lieutenant?”
She got over her hesitation and said, “Some pirate activity in the area sir. No casualties reported, although sensors relays in Grid 29-Alpha-9 confirm that at least one ship was lost…however, we have no more information at this time.”
He began to absentmindedly twirl a small bullet he produced from somewhere in his cloak around his fingers, “Are you even sure that it is pirate activity? What exactly do the records show?
She stoically looked ahead, “Admittedly sir, not much. We do have some ship movements, but thus far, pirates have been careful to stay out of range of Starfleet sensor networks…and they have in fact been able to do this with a fair degree of success. In fact, the only indication that an incident occurred is some debris that floated into range. It appeared to have originated from the U.S.S. Legacy. Registry number, UPX-2303. ”
The bullet spun faster and faster around his fingers, becoming a copper colored blur. Then suddenly, with a flick of his hand, it vanished. He held it out in front of him, and stared at the empty hand for a couple of seconds, before clapping them together. When they came apart, the bullet was being twirled in the other hand, “Hmm...the ship that was involved in that escape attempt a few days ago...it supposedly went off on a random course after the attempt was stopped. Was the ship destroyed?"
"I am unable to tell sir. It is a relatively small amount of debrie. A ship could lose it and still function. It must have drifted into sensor range from somewhere beyond the perimeter."
"...What was that ship carrying? It didn't earn its UPX designation for nothing."
"Unknown sir. I haven't been able to locate any records that would shed light on it."
"Hmm...very well Lt. keep me appised on the matter. Now, tell me about the Romulans."
She moved to forward past the conference table and next to a control panel, “Yes sir. As you can see here, the Romulan presence is comprised of mixed military and civilian craft. Two missionary ships and one Warbird. They are currently maintaining high orbit around the station. However, since they are maintaining their cloak, and I have incomplete sensor records to go on, I can at best only extrapolate more precise positions.”
Darson looked carefully at the display, “No, that’s good. Maintain all possible surveillance on them. And I want our Wing Commander to send out some fighter patrols, mixed Valkyries and Razors, and have a flight of Broadswords, weapons configuration C and D. That should be good enough for now. Have the wing commander coordinate with his Fleet counter-part.”
“Yes sir…Sir, is it wise to just let the Romulan’s sit there? The threat they represent-“
Darson held up a hand to stop her, and then extended it to the screen, as if he was trying to grab the ships and station, “Time has indeed taught me patience Lieutenant. I can outlast somebody trying to outlast me, and when they falter,” His hand clenched into a fist, “I will make them SUBMIT!!!” He sat in silence for a couple of seconds, before returning to a more introspective position.
“…” The Vulcan wisely chose to remain silent.
“You are dismissed, Lieutenant.”
As she saluted and walked away, Darson’s internal communications package beeped. Colonel Manheim was sending him a message.
OFF