From: Jamie LeBlanc (plainsimplegarak_at_yahoo.com)
Date: Sat Apr 05 2008 - 18:02:09 PDT
“Done Moved On” (Continued from “Operation
Liberation”)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Location:ANDARA
Stardate: 2.80405.2100
Scene: Prime Minister’s Residence
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I don't know why we are here, but I'm pretty sure
that it is not in order to enjoy ourselves.”
~Ludwig Wittgenstein
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Time index: Several days ago
Clooney pulled a phaser from his pocket. He got off
one shot, hitting Vertec square in the chest. She
fell to the ground dying, knowing another one of her
clones would replace her, and the Jem Hadar opened
fire on the reporter.
Clooney St. George dropped to the floor not far away
from the Vorta woman, dead. On the recording the
disruptor bolts careened towards the camera, which
fell, bursting into a spray of electrical sparks and
finally fizzling to black. Behind the scenes Baxter
Moorit dropped the useless piece of equipment and
stared down his Jem’Hadar adversaries.
“I didn’t make him start an outburst.” The double
agent spat, kicking Clooney’s lifeless corpse for good
effect.
The first stepped forward, leveling his weapon.
“You were with him.”
“I was sent to make sure he stayed in line. But
I don’t hold his choke collar. He decided to kill
himself. Salvage what you still can and let me go
back and finish his work.” The catty cameraman
replied, spreading his hands outward in a gesture of
surrender.
The first narrowed his eyes, feeling agitated.
“They have seen you with him. You have no cover
anymore.”
Baxter shook his head with an expression of
disgust. “How little you know about me.” Slowly he
relaxed and his form shifted. Gracelessly, by the
standards of the Founders, but it was enough to
startle the Jem’Hadar into complacency. When he
turned around his pale white skin had faded to a dark
tan, with yellow eyes and light feathery hair. “I
think I can cover myself well enough. I’m sure
there’s another Vorta around here somewhere. Let me
talk to him.”
Fingers on the triggers, the Jem’Hadar squad
gestured the cameraman forward, leading him through
the hallways of the palace.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Location: GS2
Scene: Promenade
Time index: current.
LJ was sitting on the floor, back against the wall,
head tipped back so he could gaze upward at the beams
in the ceiling four stories above. “We’ll find
another way to dance,” he murmured.
“No, you won’t.” Zel shook his head, waiting for
the replicator to spit out some hot drinks. “Running
off into space to mount an ill conceived rescue
mission is suicide.”
“We could get a shuttlecraft…” Gavi started,
pausing when Zel eyed him suspiciously and handed the
younger boy a bug mug full of warm, sweet honeybush
and milk.
“Do you even know how to fly a shuttlecraft?” the
little hybrid asked, rationally.
The Onaran shook his head a little. “It can’t be
very hard, can it?”
Zel pulled the second mug out, setting it beside
LJ. “Harder than you think.”
Gavi perked a brow. “So you know how to fly
one?”
“You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere.
Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get
somewhere.” LJ said, turning to face them both.
“No.” Zel shook his head again. “If there were
some specifics, maybe.” He stopped himself and
rethought that statement. “Wait, what am I talking
about? That would be completely crazy. Two kids and
a second rate salesman? We’d be laughed out of the
sector, or more likely arrested.”
“Then what should we do about it?” Gavi asked,
folding his arms across his chest.
The Cardassian shook his head lightly. “There
isn’t much to do. Though I would be very surprised if
Starfleet isn’t mounting some amazing rescue effort.
They tend to do that for people with rank.” His voice
had a slight amount of distaste to it.
The younger boy shook his head in frustration as
LJ sipped his mug and went back to staring up at the
ceiling. “But what if she’s in trouble? She needs
our help!”
Zel leaned forward over his shop cart. “How well
do you know your mother?”
Gavi bit his lower lip. “She’s my mom, I know
her real well.”
“Would you say she’s a strong woman?” the older
man queried.
Immediately the boy shook his head in response
“She’s the strongest person I know.”
Zel turned to LJ. “Would you agree?”
“She is strong and silent, she is blunt and
shrewd. She thinks that nobody loves her, if she only
knew how much we all have missed her, we are praying
for you.” The boy spoke in a soft lull, his eyes
averted from the others.
Zel wallowed dryly and nodded a bit before
turning back to Gavi. “So if you’re Mom is strong,
you have to believe that she can survive until they
can rescue her.”
Unconvinced, the younger boy folded his arms
across his chest after setting the mug down. “How can
you be so sure, have *you* ever been to prison.”
The answer was curt and not what Gavi expected.
“Yes. Several times.”
Slowly his eyes widened. “You have? Why? For
what?”
“Getting caught.” Zel replied
~*~*~*~*~*~
Scene: The other side of the promenade
It had taken several days for Moorit to find a
new role for himself on the station. Truly he didn’t
mind not having that nosey Clooney St. George around
anymore. The man had been a loose cannon, and a
foolish one at that.
Moorit, on the other hand, had his own reasons
for following the Dominion. After the first Dominion
war, the entire concept of shape-shifting was
viciously attacked. Not that it was unusual. Shape
shifters had always been seen with fear and suspicion
by the outside world. But the Dominion fight had put
this to the forefront. And while others of the
Chameloid race had vented their anger at the Dominion
for stirring up their tenuous peace; Moorit always
wondered why. Weren’t the Founders fighting for the
same rights as the Chameloid? Didn’t they have every
right to attack those who had attacked them in the
past? Having endured his own fair share of
persecution, Moorit started to shift his hate onto
those who had started everything in the first place.
Those the Founders so quaintly called ‘solids.’
The Founders didn’t really trust Moorit, any more
than anyone else trusted him; but he did, admittedly
have skills they did not. Not the least of which was
his fundamental nature was solid. So while he could
not take on the variety of shapes that they could, he
also was much better as passing blood screenings. So
after Clooney forfeited his life, they agreed to allow
Moorit to create for himself a new identity and return
to the station. Despite their distaste for the
inferior shapeshifter, they had to admit that he was
very good at getting things done; and right now they
deeply desired an operative on GS2. So return to the
station was exactly what he did. Now serving as
‘Peldig Nelo’ an Orion businessman, he was strolling
around the Promenade, taking stock of the changes that
had been made. Security was ramped up since the dear
Commander Davidson’s disappearance, which didn’t
really bother Moorit much. He had a plan for getting
around that, too.
Because when you can take on the face of anybody
you want, playing for the security cameras becomes
fun.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Scene: Marine HQ
Time Index: several hours later
Things were slightly on edge, with the entrance
and then exit of Lt. Trella Pandalora. The Security
department and Marines seems to know that something
was up, likely involving their missing Commander, and
the clash of personalities between the Major and the
Vissian Lieutenant hadn’t been good for already frayed
nerves.
So when a security sensor was tripped on the
secondary engineering deck, First Lieutenant James
Stoddard nearly jumped out of his pants.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Major Towers
asked in a gruff tone, walking up behind the younger
man.
“Nothing, sir. But there is a security alert on
the engineering deck.” He leaned back and called up
the exact location, letting Alex Tower look over his
shoulder.
The older man narrowed his eyes. “That’s one of
the power relays for the habitat decks.” He pushed
the younger man, aside and called up a bit of station
information. “All the power relays have been wired
for observation. You should be able to call up the
tape from the last few minutes.” The computer made an
agreeable whirr, and the security recording of the
junction compliantly popped up. Towers rewound it,
watching as a human form appeared in the corridor, and
walked backwards to the relay, tampered with it and
walk away. Pushing play, the tape righted itself
working forward. “There you go, see if we can find
him.”
As the tape paused and focused in on the face,
First Lieutenant Stoddard felt his jaw drop. “That’s
just not right, sir.”
“What isn’t right?” Towers snapped back.
“The man in the corridor. It isn’t right… he
should be dead.” James replied, trying to wrap his
brain around what he saw.
The cameras had caught the man’s face clearly:
Clooney St. George.
~*~*~*~*~*~
NRPG:
Young Love – “Find a New Way”
Traci Chapman – “Fast Car”
Brave Saint Saturn – “Resistor”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Jamie LeBlanc
Civillian Zel Rohan
Shopkeep
GS2
"Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must"
~Julian Beck
____________________________________________________________________________________
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