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Crisis

Posted on Wed Mar 31, 2021 @ 11:59pm by Ensign Fulson Miller

Mission: Birds of a Feather
Location: Starbase 87
Timeline: Weeks after Fulson's Discharge

Fulson Miller, former Ensign in Starfleet sighed deeply, the drugs they had filled his body with had calmed the raging inferno in his brain. Whilst the events of the past few weeks were still a bit of a blur to him there were a few things that had permeated the fog that had covered his brain.

He was no longer in Starfleet having been dishonourably discharged for his events aboard the Aquarius.

Chase Stevens was unlikely to ever speak to him again.

He would be enjoying a long stay in a Federation psychiatric institute whether he wanted to or not.

The most troublesome thing he knew is that he had been pulled from the Brig on Starbase 10 and transferred to Starbase 87 for god knows what reason. Now he found himself sitting in an Admiral’s Office in binders with two armed guards watching over him, it was more surreal than the haze his last few weeks had been.

Behind him the doors to the office hissed open as he went to turn to look at who had entered; he felt the large meaty hand of a Security Officer press down on his shoulder holding him in place.

“Now now” Said a female voice that sent a shiver down his back. If had been asked to describe the voice there and then he would have struggled, it was sickly sweet and yet icy and dangerous.

“Gentlemen Fulson is here as my guest, not my prisoner. Please remove his shackles and take yourselves outside, or even to the ‘Lode.” She referred to the Motherlode. The main bar on Starbse 87.”

The hand on Fulsons shoulder tightened as the man went to speak, he was sure there would be words like orders, danger and other tosh like that.

“Gentlemen” The voice said again this time with a firmer tone.

Both security officers straightened up and mumbled their ascent to the lady, by this point Fulson was pretty sure that she was whomever was in charge of Starbase 87, yet his memory told him that was a young male Telerite Commodore.

Fulson still didn’t dare move as the security officers left the room, he could hear the owner of the voice ordering drinks from the office's replicator, a moment later she came and sat down opposite Fulson and pushed a drink towards him.

“Curiosity Cola?” She said with a smile.

The lady before him was very obviously a Vice Admiral, her uniform suggested that she was in the field of Operations or Security but the way she held herself suggested more. Her white hair was finely coiffured which matched the manicure he could see on her nails, most Admiral’s he had met preferred function over form preferring to eschew such adornments.

Cola? Fulson suddenly pushed through the cloud in his mind how did she know my tipple? No, he mentally chided himself. That was not the question to ask now, the question was why.

“Why have you brought me here?”

He blurted the words without thinking surprising himself.

A smile formed on the Vice Admiral’s lips momentarily, it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. She took a sip of her drink before she responded.

“Fulson” The smile was back “You astound me far more than you realise, even through the haze of drugs you are on your brain is still working overtime.”

She settled back in her chair.

“I am Jessica, Jessica Taylor. Well. Darkly again now. Since my fool of a husband got himself killed a few days ago.”

“You, Fulson Miller, will refer to me as Jessica. I hold you in an esteem that you are yet to fully grasp, but I hope that we will forge a great friendship from what I am about to tell you.”

“This” She pointed to her uniform “Is all going in a little under 3 weeks, I have resigned my commission. Starfleet is not what it should be, Fulson, I think everyone in the fleet has felt that over the past few years. The difference for me is I think Starfleet has been in the wrong since the day of its creation, whilst the Federation has lofty goals of peace in the universe the reality is there are many species out there who would like little more than to kill or enslave every member of the Federation.”

“I have been working in secret for some years now with a select group of Starfleet Officers who feel the same as I do, the marriage to Admiral Taylor was little but a smoke screen to allow me to hide behind a bigger person within the Fleet. To allow me to hide my dealings behind his. Now he is dead that avenue is no longer open to me so I am leaving and retreating publicly at least because of the death of my husband.”

“The reality is somewhat different, I will be heading to the Triangle between Romulan and Klingon space to an independent shipyard known as Scardia. This is in truth little more than a legitimate front for our dealings, who would expect us to operate from such a public location.”

Fulson was struggling to follow her words and the fog in his brain was getting worse again.

“Too many words” He snapped not quite meaning too. “Speak plainly.”

She laughed again, causing another shiver to go down his spine.

“Oh my dear Fulson, those drugs they have filled you with for your psychotic episode. They have done a number haven’t they. Don’t you worry your treatments are over there is little wrong with you beyond a head full of information they don’t want you in any state to share.”

“My cohorts and I plan to shift the balance of power within the Federation, by destabalisng the Klingons and what is left of the Romulan Empire. The Federation will realise that Starfleet needs to be disbanded and replaced with a more proactive group who will ensure the Federations supremacy for years to come.”

“You Fulson are key to us achieving that, within your head is a treasure trove of Starfleet Technical Information and weapons research that is never meant to see the light of day. We are going to give you the platform to build the things that Starfleet never let you. Things that will be terrible yet brilliant.”

It took a few moments for Fulson to process the words he had heard, as he did so a smile grew on his face. A chance to do things he had been denied.

Jessica smiled.

* * *

4 Weeks Later - Somewhere in the Triangle

The last few weeks had been interesting to say the least, as the drugs left his system Jessica has spent more and more time with Fulson talking about their plans and goals and starting the process of plundering his brain for his wildest ideas.

She had explained to him very early on that any mention of psychiatric diagnosis was simply a ploy by Starfleet to silence him, and his actions aboard the Aquarius had been very much warranted by those around him failing to realise his brilliance.

So it had been that Fulson had engineered the proof of his own death, the killing of the two security officers who had escorted him from Starbase 10 was a small price that he was more than willing to pay.

A warp core breach had taken care of the runabout.

Now he was sitting on the bridge of a Turas Class Explorer, an older civilian model of starship in an undisclosed location, the ship was cloaked with stolen Romulan technology so that they would not be bothered by outside interference.

Now there was nothing else to do but await Jessica’s return, when she did there would be nothing stopping them beginning operation crisis.


 

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