Mission 7 - Opener

With the new year the crew of the USS ANUBIS needs a new mission. This instalment is meant to set the scene and get the others to start writing their parts in this collaborative story

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"Agent Down"

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"The history of man is defined by war. And war by the men who fight it. What if we could create a better man? Someone did."

- Diana

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Setting: SPACE

Stardate: 31341.0600

Following the defeat of the Neo-Essentialists all high ranking officials who had supported Richard Edgerton and his ideals were quickly located, apprehended, officially arrested and duly prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. At least that was the official story that had been circulated throughout the Federation and its citizens.  The truth, known only to a select few including Admiral Charles N. Koniki, ranking officer of the NEW ALEXANDRIA complexe and recently appointed head of Starfleet Intelligence, was that a few of these high ranking members had somehow managed to evade capture.

In fact three such individuals had reached the underground networks, hiding as best they could from anyone and everyone looking for them. Every favour owed to them had been called in and all three had done everything possible to erase their existence from the official records in the hopes of avoiding prosecution.  As one of the elite undercover agents of the NEW ALEXANDRIA complexe, Agent Trent Troy had been sent to track and bring back one of those three fugitives.

The name of the former high ranking member of the Neo-Essentialists had been change several times over the last few months, as well as his appearance which had been surgically altered, but that had not stopped Trent.  Each time the target's identity changed and the trail grew cold, Agent Troy managed to find someone who, with the properly applied incentives, would give up the one piece of information that had been needed for the Agent to resume his hunt.

Trent did not consider himself a Hunter although he had spent a great amount of time studying the methods and ways of the famed Hirogen hunters. While stationed at NEW ALEXANDRIA Agent Troy had also meticulously studied the interrogation techniques used by the Tal'Shiar, Obsidian Order and Orion Syndicate to name a few.  His physical training had been set to match his enhanced skills which had made him to be far more than a simple hunter.

His name was Trent Troy, Special Undercover Agent who like the other 36 members of his team were sent in when no one else could get the job done.

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Setting: Orbiting MARKALA PRIME, deep inside Ferengi Controlled Space

Stardate: 31341.0600

From orbit the planet appeared like so many others, a sphere lost in the cold emptiness of space. This was where the trail had led Trent, to the homeworld of the Markalians and where the command center of the notorious Markalian smuggling operation could be found, if one knew where to look. With hundreds of freighters coming and going it had been easy for anyone to reach the surface without being noticed, that is as long as the proper hands were paid so that eyes would be looking elsewhere at the time.

The target had less than a day's lead on the agent, a lead that rapidly grew smaller with each passing moment.  Trent knew that it was but a matter of time before he would find the fugitive likely cowering in some dark corner, begging for leniency or threatening retaliation by one of his associates.  In that regards, Agent Troy had been very much like a Hirogen, focussed solely on the reaching his target and completing the mission.

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Setting: MARKALA PRIME, Trade City of Kololu

Stardate: 31341.0800

The former Neo-Essentialist had been here less than an hour ago and Trent knew exactly where to find him, the merchant he had just finished speaking to having been most generous with the information the Agent had required.  The merchants fingers, arm and legs would in time heal from the injuries he had so unfortunately suffered from, but that had been part of the business.

With the target only a few steps away, Trent could finally allowing himself the luxury of a faint smile knowing that his mission had almost reached its conclusion. At least that was what Agent Troy thought.

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Setting: MARKALA PRIME, Trade City of Kololu, Specific location unknown

Stardate: 31341.0900

He spoke 14 different languages and his mind had been trained, conditioned and enhanced to be a living computer. His physical skills had made him a match for the fastest and strongest of alien races and his senses had been so heightened that his response time to anything bordered on precognition. Everything about him had been pushed to beyond the limits to be improved, made faster, stronger, better. Even his own healing abilities had been augmented making him able to regenerate the deepest of wounds in only a few hours.

Despite all of that they had still managed to best him, how he had no idea, but they had. Now he found himself on a heavy metal chair anchored to the floor, his body restrained by special chains that made it nearly impossible for him to breathe. The blindfold over his eyes forced him to use his other senses to get an idea of where he was and who had done this to him.

The air was cold and damp; the echo of his own breathing indicated that he was in a small room deprived of any openings giving onto the outside, so the logical conclusion was that he had been brought to some sort of basement, but why?

The target had been right there in front of him, speaking to someone else. Just has he had been ready to reach out and grab him something hit Trent. Normally the Agent would not use such a vague description but the fact that he had not seen or heard anything prior to the massive impact against the back of his head had left him with only that word to describe what had happened.

He had been kept alive for a reason, likely interrogation, but given the strength of his bonds there had been little he could do but wait and see who would come in and what sort of questions they would ask.

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Setting: MARKALA PRIME, Trade City of Kololu, Bistro

Stardate: 31341.0915

"He should be killed now," the man demanded in a forced whispered voice, his face hidden by the hood of a cloak resting on his shoulders covering the greater majority of his form.

"The deal was that my Associates would help you get the agent off your back," a very well dressed Humanoid man explained.  "We have fulfilled the conditions of our agreement, as for what happens to the agent, it is no longer your concern. My Associates have plans of their own, all you now need to be concerned about is staying safe and not bring any unneeded attention to yourself."

"I still don't get why you are helping me," the fugitive gasped in a mixture of curiosity and gratitude. "You came to me, asked me what I wanted and here we are. You gave me exactly what I wanted, that blasted agent off my back, but you have not asked anything in return from me."

"Do not worry," the well dressed man offered as she stood from the chair he had been sitting in. "In time, soon, my Associates will be contacting you with the details of the payment for their involvement here.  Now if you will excuse me, I have certain urgent matters to attend to."

Stunned and a little scared by the answer he had been given, the fugitive watched in silence as the man in business clothes walked away, the man radiating an assurance and confidence that he had never before seen in anyone.  After all of their dealings it was only now that the former Neo-Essentialist realized that he knew nothing about that man other than his name -- Mr. Morten.

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Setting: MARKALA PRIME, Trade City of Kololu, Basement

Stardate: 31341.0935

"He is secured," Morten answered the question that only he could hear as he looked though the small opening in the heavy metal door beyond which the agent had been imprisoned.  "Yes, the message has been sent and will be immediately retransmitted as soon as it reaches each relay station," the man dressed in a suit continued having what appeared to be a full conversation with someone who could not be seen or heard.  "Someone should be here within the next 8 to 9 days. After all we do not want to make this too easy for them."

Morten turned to an unseen and unheard presence in the room with him and nodded his understanding to instructions that only he could received.

"Everything will be in place long before then," Morten confirmed. "I will see to it personally."

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Setting: NEW ALEXANDRIA, Section A, Level 1

Stardate: 31341.1725

Lt. Commander Argus O’Dell had been the ranking officer on duty at the Operations Controls of the secret base when the signal came in.

"Commander, encoded signal coming in. It's from Agent 33," one of the communications technicians reported. "Highest priority."

"Well, lets see it then," Argus ordered, his thick Irish accent filling the room as only his voice could.

Silence reigned as they read the message that scrolled on the monitor, the words quickly drawing a troubled sigh from both men.

"Better get a hold of the Admiral for this one," Lt. Cmdr. O'Dell said in a half growled Irish tone while keeping any colourful swear words to himself, "he's going to want to see this right away, and I'm sure he won't be too happy when he does.  While you're at it, get a hold of the Captain Morningstar on board the ANUBIS. The Admiral will likely want 'em on their way back before he finishes reading that."

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Setting: USS ANUBIS, Captain's Ready Room

Stardate: 31341.1945

[/] Erik, [/] Admiral Koniki offered, his face filling the small desk mounted communication screen. [/] Am I to gather that you are already on your way? [/]

"Yes Admiral," the Native American confirmed. Although little had been said by Lt. Commander O'Dell it had been made perfectly clear that the ANUBIS and its crew needed to return with the greatest possible haste.  "Can I ask what is going on?"

[/] As you may or may not know, a few of the higher ranking members of the Neo-Essentialists managed to escape EARTH before the authorities were able to get to them.  Using our more individual elite resources, NEW ALEXANDRIA has been keeping track of these individuals and we were close to getting our hands on one of them. [/] The Admiral explained, the seasoned Intel officer keeping the specific details to a strict need-to-know-basis.  [/] About two and a half hours ago we received a relayed transmission from our operative who had only been minutes away from capturing the Neo-Essentialist fugitive. [/]

"Something happened and the target got away," Captain Morningstar theorized, this having been the only possible explanation to account for the ship's hasty recall to NEW ALEXANDRIA.

[/] You mission is to first find our agent and and ensure that he is safe, [/] Koniki continued, the tone of his voice making it clear that this had been of the highest possible priority. [/] After having accomplished this, your second objective will be to pick up where he failed and capture the fugitive.  The agent is the only one who knows all the details of this operation so it is imperative that he be rapidly located and extracted. [/]

"Are we expected to return to NEW ALEXANDRIA or are we to proceed directly to his last known location?" Erik inquired having perfectly understood the time sensitivity of their new assignment.

[/] No need for you or your crew to waste time here, [/] the Admiral noted. [/] The communications team was able to trace back the signal to its general point of origin despite some rather high-end level scattering techniques. Head directly to MARKALA PRIME. [/]

"MARKALA PRIME? the homeworld of the Markalian and center stage of their smuggling operation?" The Native American sighed, "The MARKALA PRIME *inside* Ferengi controlled space?"

[/] Yes, will that be a problem? [/]

"No problem at all," Erik confirmed without any hesitations, "No problem at all, ANUBIS out." Once the communication had been closed and the logo of the Federation had reappeared on the small screen on his desk, the Native American turned to look at the rapidly streaking starts through the window of his office.  **No problem at all, except maybe for one,** he thought already dreading the mission on which they were rapidly heading into.

Author's Note

Looking for opinions and even ideas. This is not meant to be a complete story but to get the ball rolling on a story created through the shared writings of multiple writers.