From: Jerome McKee (parakeety_at_hotmail.com)
Date: Fri Oct 19 2007 - 12:12:41 PDT
"POLITICAL MANEUVERING"
(Continued from "Suspicions")
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Captain's Log, Supplemental - With the campaigning of several of the candidates in the upcoming elections well underway, tensions on the station have eased somewhat. The endless to-ing and fro-ing between the candidates, including a notorious crime-lord named Zane Rixx, has sparked an interesting public debate as to who might best lead the station, but I have bigger problems. The wounded Changeling that was held in sickbay stasis has escaped, and is apparently loose - what it *might* do is a litany of problems, but we still have no idea what it wants...
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Location: GS-2
Stardate: [2.7]1019.2015
Scene: Security Centre
Michael Turlogh Kane heaved a sigh. His brow had been continually creased for the past several hours, and he could feel a stress headache coming on. A changeling loose anywhere was enough to send shivers of fearful possibilities down one's spine, but with the Dominion now allied with the Andarans and tightening the strategic noose around the station, it was imperative to recapture the prisoner before it could wreak much havoc.
"Nobody knows we've got one here, and the medical staff are under orders not to talk about it, so if we can keep the news of the changeling's escape from getting onto the Promenade, we stand a much better chance of recapturing it," said Eishnala. "We know that they must revert to their liquid form every eighteen hours, so the changeling won't be able to keep up its masquerade forever. We can also single it out by means of a blood test, but introducing those into the civilian population is going to prove problematical."
Kane nodded with resignation. "Eventually exposing the changeling's existence may be our only chance at recapturing it, but I'd prefer to leave that option until the end. I don't want to cause panic amongst the population - if people think that anyone around them could be a changeling, we'll have riots on the Promenade."
"I'd say that's accurate," remarked Eishnala ruefully. Kane watched her antennae, wondering if he'd just seen them move in different directions. "I've already split the security patrols into three-man teams - that way the changeling will always be outnumbered if it attempts to take the place of one of them."
"Good thinking," said Kane. "I'm thinking of organising a census of the station, too - there must be several hundred trapped people from the Alpha Quadrant, and we'll need to create a voter's roll. That might kill two birds with one stone."
"What?"
Kane looked at the Andorian sidelong. "You've never heard of that expression?"
"No." Both her antennae were pointing towards him now. It was like they were looking at him. "Any update on the sensor net saboteur?"
"It means that we can accomplish two goals with the one task." Kane rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. "Ensign Crichton's on his trail, but you can bet it was probably the changeling."
He sighed. "I need to get some stimulants - a captain's work is never done."
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Scene: Promenade, 'Needful Things'
Maury R. Tee watched with great interest as Frek and some flunkies handed out Rixx's manifesto to the throngs of passing people. The candidate himself was nowhere to be seen, but his likeness was prominently displayed on the top cover of the PADD - a smiling, confident Bolian face, just *slightly* airbrushed to take the edges from around his guilty eyes.
"Vote Rixx!" called Frek. The diminutive Ferengi's high-pitched voice rose above the hubbub. He activated his throat microphone - it's built-in amplifier extended his voice farther than usual. He leaned down and activated the anti-grav boosters on his shoes. As he floated several feet into the air, he began addressing the curious crowd. "Last summer, Xana Bonviva bought an ornamental dagger from Andara! Since then, there have been four knife-related deaths on GATEWAY station!" He looked around conspiratorially. "Is Xana Bonviva soft on crime, or is she hiding something? Can you afford to take that chance?" He looked plaintively at the crowd. "Can your *children*? Vote Zane Rixx - the candidate for justice, law, and order!"
H.W whirred up behind its master in the shop's doorway as several shocked parents clasped their babes to them protectively. [[I believe that is slander,]] it remarked in its tinkling voice.
Tee smiled. "Not so, my unliving underling. It is electioneering."
[[Message, money, and machine.]]
"Precisely. It matters not that Zane Rixx's manifesto is full of meaningless soundbites and untenable promises. It only matters that Xana Bonviva may, in fact, be a mass-murdering knife-wielding maniac."
Frek was talking again. "Five months ago Xana Bonviva's household acquired a hoverbug, scant days before a hit-and-run incident in the Habitat Module! The perpetrator was never arrested - was it because they have political connections?" He looked around conspiratorially again. "Can you afford to take that chance? Can your *children*?" He held up the manifesto. "Vote Zane Rixx - a candidate who has never committed vehicular homicide!"
"Wonderful," chuckled Tee.
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Scene: Promenade, Upper Deck
A commander of a starship, or a space station, must always be ready to deal with crises as they emerge. Enemy starships, political machinations, even indiscipline amongst his own crew.
Lieutenant Salor came out of the crowd like a pale shadow, his saturnine features instantly recognisable, but they were twisted into a mask of anger and rage. "Captain Kane!" he exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of several passers-by. "I wish to speak with you immediately!"
Kane tried to keep his expression neutral, but inside he was horrified. Salor looked like he was barely controlling a red rage - his fingers were flexing murderously and his breathing was heavy, almost ragged. "Of course, Lieutenant. If you'll accompany me back to Ops - what's the problem?"
"I have relieved Ensign Crichton of duty!" said Salor sharply. "I simply cannot work with him anymore - he is aggressive, churlish, and simply insubordinate!"
Kane motioned him onward, noting how Salor's cheeks were flushed a dull green. "I can see that he's causing you undue stress."
"Yes!" snapped the Vulcan. "It is not a racial clash Captain Kane - there are many Human engineers working beneath me - it is simply that Ensign Crichton has no respect for my authority!"
They entered the transparent turbolift at the end of the corridor that was to take them down to the main level of the Promenade. "I'll have Security pick him up and take him to Ops," nodded Kane. "I'll give him a stern talking to, and tell him you were right to relieve him, that he's put you under enough pressure."
"Yes, Captain. Thank you." Somewhat mollified, Salor placed his hands at his temples and closed his eyes.
"Are you feeling alright?"
"I... have a headache." Salor took his hands down again. "It is nothing, Captain."
"I want you to report to sickbay for an examination, Lieutenant," said Kane, gently but firmly. "I need my chief engineer firing on all cylinders."
"There is no need - "
"That's an order, Lieutenant. I'd feel much better."
Salor nodded curtly as the turbolift doors opened. "As you command, Captain. I shall report there immediately."
The Vulcan strode off into the crowd. Kane tapped his communicator. "Kane to Gorman."
[[Gorman here. Go ahead, Captain.]]
"I know you're off-duty right now, Doctor, but could you report to sickbay to do a full physical and psych test on Lieutenant Salor? I'm concerned that he's suffering from some sort of debilitating condition that is affecting his judgement."
There was a concerned pause. [[Of course, Captain. Gorman out.]]
That was that, then. Kane steppd back into the turbolift, allowing himself a momentary pause as the doors hissed shut.
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NRPG: Short, but I posted! I'm going to be quite busy over the weekend, but I'll try to get something out again next week.
Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
GS-2
the Soul of Lieutenant Solomon Arn
Senior ACT Instructor
Starfleet Academy
"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.113
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