Previous Next

When It Rains

Posted on Mon Feb 26th, 2018 @ 9:30pm by Captain Mrazak & Lieutenant Nevada McKay M.D.

Mission: Mission 0: Everybody Has A Story
Location: Enroute to Penal Colony
Timeline: 2389

The air was oddly still as the Admiralty stared Down the Defendant. Most of them stared with disgust, hatred, even loathing. All of them, however held a shocked look on their faces. Even the Normally Stoic Vulcans seemed taken back by the human Female before them.

“I’m not taking back what I said,” The Short Latina said as she folded her arms her vibrant green eyes Darting across the assembled officers. “My Research, while unconventional was no more Illegal then the Genesis Wave Research undertaken by Doctor Marcus,” she stated firmly. “the difference being My Research doesn’t result in planets that Explode because they're unstable."

The admiralty commission covered their microphones as they briefly conferred with one another. A Vulcan in vice admiral pips uncovered his microphone. "On behalf of the commission, I hereby tender our recommendation to the Judge Advocate's office as follows: life imprisonment on the Elba II asylum for the criminally insane." He glanced at the Staff Judge Advocate seated separately from the commission panel, though he kept a wary eye on Nevada. "It would avoid certain... unpleasantries... connected to a dishonorable discharge."

"In review of the prosecution's testimony and the defendant's own admission, I agree that may be the best course of action," said the Staff Judge Advocate, a human woman with a tight head bun. She addressed Nevada directly. "Lieutenant McKay," she began, pointedly using Nevada's rank, "please listen closely: you have demonstrated yourself to be unwell in my eyes. I am giving you a chance at recovery, if not for a return to normal life. Do not squander it. If you do so, then I will see you spend the remainder of your life in the stockade on Jaros II for attempted crimes against humanity. Do you understand these terms?"

"I Understand your terms," she said firmly her fists clenched up her Emerald eyes Locked menacingly on the Vulcan. "I'd Like to Submit that The Federation is Condemning Itself to Technological Stagnation and Extreme overpopulation within fifty years," she Countered with a low Growl. "Banning research Into Unconventional Technologies Will Doom us to conquest by either the Breen, Or the Romulans," she said. "But I Accept this sentence." she added as she drew a few deep breaths to calm herself.

"Duly noted." The Staff Advocate General shuffled through her briefs as she spoke in the bored monotone of a professional paper-pusher. "Lieutenant Nevada McKay is remanded into the custody of Federation Marshals for escort to Elba II where she will face recovery or the end of her natural life. The dismissal from Starfleet is suspended until this case is revisited five years from today's Stardate." She thumped her gavel against the desk with a half-hearted flick of her wrist. "The matter is adjourned. Next case!"

Rough hands took Nevada by her arms, jostling her restrained hands out of her lap. "Right this way, ma'am," one of the Marshals said.

"I don't Need you to fondle me," she said jerking her arms away from their grasp. "I'll Walk out of here on my own power to maintain what little dignity I'm permitted now."

As they were led out of the starbase's court room, one of the Marshals leaned into Nevada's ear. "You weren't wrong," he whispered.

"Dangerous words to be saying here," she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

The Marshal stayed silent during the long march to the airlock. When they arrived, his partner flashed the transfer order to the Starfleet Security officer standing guard, who then permitted them to press Nevada forward. The two Marshals ushered Nevada onto the Danube-class runabout slated to transfer her out of sight and mind of the admiralty. While the aloof Marshal signaled for the pilot to begin departure procedures, the friendly Marshal released Nevada from her restraints.

The Disgraced Doctor rubbed her wrists. "Thanks Marshal," she nodded quietly as she settled in for the journey out of the system.

"John, what are you doing?" the other Marshal asked.

John the Friendly Marshal smiled at his cohort's question. "It's not like this one can go anywhere, Renard. Might as well let her travel in comfort."

Though he obviously disagreed, Renard didn't argue. "Take us out as soon as you've confirmed your heading," he said to the pilot.

"Aye, sir."

"How long of a flight are we looking at?" she asked hoping she'd be able to get a straight answer out of them.

Renard looked over his shoulder from the copilot's seat. "Shut up, convict."

Seated across from Nevada, John gave a more apologetic look. "Maybe you'd better get some rest. Transport might get a bit... bumpy... later on."

Nevada Arched her eyebrow's at this comment. "I'm not expecting a rescue if that's what you're implying," she said laying back into the G-couch. "Despite what Admiral copper-blood Postulated I don't have any real Friends outside of the Federation," she shrugged and tried to order her thoughts on the events of the day.

As she spoke, John shook his head with a wry smile. "No, precious. There is no rescue from where you're headed."

"Shut up," Renard called from the front.

A comm alert warbled up from the helm. "Looks like we just received a new heading," the pilot announced.

"What?!" Renard glared through his uneven eyes. "Give me a look."

John glanced at Nevada, his face unreadable, though his posture tensed.

Nevada glanced between John and the cockpit. "No need to hurry on my part boys," she said calmly having little to no experience with flying. "Ebola 2 isn't going anywhere." she snickered quietly at her own joke.

"That is Elba II," Renard corrected.

The pilot gave a knowing smirk but didn't say anything.

"But the heading has changed to the Beta Magellan system," Renard continued. "That's a bit closer, though in the other direction."

John grinned. "Wonderful news. That means I can do this sooner."

He pulled out a hypospray and innoculated Renard in the neck below the jaw. Renard's eyes fluttered as his body fell limp.

"Don't mind him," John said to Nevada as he dragged the unconscious man to the empty rear seat. "He'll wake up after the handoff."

The pilot remained steady at the helm like business as usual.

Nevada's eyes went wide as she pressed up against the bulk head. "Uhm…Listen if you guys are From the tal'shiar I swear I was going to return those nano-probes," she said quickly as she edged her way back towards the rear of the compartment giving her room to react should he try anything on her.

"Tal'Shiar?" John looked amused. "Do I look Romulan to you? Where you're going, little lady, I would watch the name-dropping. They don't take kindly to such talk."

"And where are we going?" she asked nervously.

"We are everywhere, yet nowhere," the man intoned ominously before chuckling again. "No, really. You've never heard of us, and we have no base of operations. We simply are." He patted Nevada on the shoulder with mocking reassurance. "Never fear. We're taking you to the current whereabouts of this sector's operational director. The rendezvous is in short order."

"I think I might end up preferring A Jail cell to what ever this is…" she whispered under her breath, her fist clenched as she looked around the cabin as if planning how best to neutralize these men if it came down to it. "Un…less you wanted to Brief me," she added.

"Something is coming out of subspace," the pilot announced.

John ignored Nevada and turned to face the helm. "Onscreen."

A streak of gray and blue solidified into a Nebula-class starship a click off the port bow.

"Well, that was close!" the pilot gasped. A chirp came from the co-pilot's panel. "We're being hailed."

John smirked with pride and nodded. "Patch it."

The face of aged human male of dark complexion and commodore rank filled the display screen. "John! So good to see you. And you brought company. How splendid."

"You asked, and I delivered," John said. He looked down at the floor. "We'll, uh, need another treatment for Renard."

The commodore waved his fingers like an orchestral conductor. "Yes, yes, we'll 'doctor' his memories along with the prisoner's transport records. Speaking of which..." The old man's attention shifted to Nevada. "How would you like to get off that cramped runabout, my dear?"

Nevada smirked some, demeanor shifting. "Well…I can't really Decline such a nice offer Commodore," she said with a slight bow. "Transport away."

Swirling blue energies surrounded Nevada, pulling her away from the Marshals' transport runabout and depositing her onto the much larger Nebula-class ship. Once they dissipated, the close confines of a captain's ready room revealed themselves to her.

"Forgive the spartan furnishings; this vessel is on loan," the commodore said.

Two Marines leveled their disruptors--whether Romulan or Klingon design, certainly not Starfleet issue--straight at Nevada.

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" The commodore exclaimed. "Major, order your man to stand down."

The Marine Major in a tactical vest gave a sharp nod to the dynamic duo.

"In fact, leave us entirely. This poor woman has been through enough for one day, I should think."

With that said, the commodore folded his hands together on the desk and steepled his fingers with the unwavering expectation of compliance. In short order, the two Marines marched out. Before he left, the Major nodded in the affirmative, though he held a distrustful glare for Nevada.

"I imagine you have many questions," the commodore began, "but I believe I may be able to answer the most important of them with a formal welcome." He spread his hands out and smiled a bright, grandfatherly grin. "Welcome to Section 31."

Nevada Frowned and crossed her arms. "Aren't you illegal?" she asked some what nervously. "But it would explain the Romulan Disruptors," she hummed. "I Can guess why I'm here," she rubbed her forehead. "you want a weapon…don't you."

"Oh, nothing so prosaic, I assure you." The commodore stepped up from his desk and walked around its corner to better face Nevada. He was shorter than average, though his squared shoulders promised a scrappy spirit within the older man. "We have weapons o'plenty, with means to access more. However..."

The commodore trailed off in order to regard Nevada with a probing look. "... which would be considered the greater threat: the weapon or the one who makes it? In my business, Miss Kay, I leverage threats into opportunities."

An alerted chirped from the commodore's combadge. "Commodore Hightower, the runabout has returned to warp."

"Excellent," Hightower said. "Set a course for Tarsus III. Maximum warp." He cut the comm before the bridge officer could reply, then looked back at Nevada. "Not to cut this short, but I do have other pressing matters demanding my attention." His face turned grave, matching the deepened timbre of his voice. "I will ask this precisely once, and you will answer swiftly: are you in... or are you out?"

The short female narrowed her eyes she looked over him. "I have no realistic choice other then to Accept," She said darkly as she Uncrossed her arms. "Where am I to wait?" she asked. "Or to work."

"Smart girl," Hightower said affectionately. "The ambassador's quarters have been prepared for you. Rest now, and we'll pick up this conversation tomorrow."

He removed a small device from his service jacket and pressed a button. Nevada was transported once more, this time into a luxurious suite with viewports along the entirety of one wall. A quick survey of the large room indicated she was alone.

Nevada huffed and shook her head as she looked around the quarters, before spending several minutes tearing it apart as she looked for Listening devices to destroy. Paranoia was deserved against the Commodores Agency after all. Once she was satisfied she wasn't being recorded she slump down and look down at her hands. "this is getting way outside of my control.." she whispered in case someone was outside her door. "I need to be careful with how I proceed…"


Previous Next