Tales of Starfleet
Angels and Lionesses
Part 5
by Phillip Barlow
(p.barlow@ic.ac.uk)

Angels and Lionesses - Part 5

There could not have been a greater contrast between the starships Destiny and Devastation as they cruised in formation at impulse. The Galaxy class Destiny was nearly six times larger and ten times taller than her Defiant class consort and, to the untrained eye, looked as though it could squash the Devastation. But, the Devastation packed a pretty punch, and could cause some significant damage in a firefight. The two ships were in the Beta Quadrant, though initially they had different reasons for being there. The Destiny had been cruising along the Romulan Neutral Zone, showing the flag and guarding against any possible Romulan mischief. The Devastation meanwhile had been at the Starfleet torpedo ranges near Gamma Hydra testing new quantum torpedoes. However, both ships had been pulled from their assignments following the two ship thefts from Hampton Orbital. While the whereabouts of the Orion remained a mystery, with the consequence that half the fleet was searching for it, the Independence (which although being refurbished for the Nyberrite Alliance, was still Federation property until it was handed over) seemed to be heading towards the Beta Quadrant, if the data from both the Epsilon X tracking station and the starship Falcon was to be believed. As a consequence, the two nearest starships, the Destiny and the Devastation, were directed to begin their own search.

"Status?" asked Captain Zerreta on the Devastation's bridge.

"Long range sensors at full scan. Nothing as yet, although we are getting interference due to power emissions from the surplus depot at Qualor II," replied Lieutenant Trent. Zerreta sat back in his chair, clearly in thought.

"We have no idea where the Independence is going, do we?"

"No sir."

"Contact the Destiny and see if Captain Leitera is available to come aboard. I'd like to speak to him."

* * *

Captain Leitera strode onto the bridge of the Destiny.

"Helm, set a course for Qualor II, warp 3." Commander Trapon, the first officer, looked at him quizzically. Leitera noted this look. "To answer your question Commander, Captain Zerreta has a hunch that the Independence is heading for Qualor II for some reason. If the ship is there, he thinks our presence will smoke them out, and he'll be waiting with the Devastation."

"Course ready Captain," said Lieutenant Michaels at the conn.

"Very well," replied Leitera. "Engage."

* * *

Captain's Log: Stardate 54293.4: Following our near miss with the starship Falcon, we have had no further contacts. I have taken the opportunity to make a full and thorough inspection of the ship and crew, to ascertain their readiness for whatever might come. As we arrive at Qualor II, I find that we are as well prepared as we could possibly be. I hope it's enough.

* * *

Qualor II was a planet that was more or less indistinguishable from most Class M planets. Its only noticeable feature was the ring encircling it, something that was rare for rocky planets. On closer examination though, it became apparent that the ring was not a natural phenomenon, because it was made up of starships. Qualor II was home to one of the Federation's surplus depots, to where ships that had reached the end of their operational lives were taken so that their parts could be stripped and used again. Occasionally though, entire ships were purchased and refurbished, as had happened with the Independence. As Claire sat on the bridge and watched the planet's approach, she knew that had happened with the two NX class vessels that had raided Hampton Orbital. Someone had come here to Qualor II and purchased the two ships. She just hoped they could tell her who.

"Standard orbit."

"Aye Captain," said Lisa. Claire rose from the captain's chair and moved to the front console.

"Open a channel," she said.

"Open," replied Faye.

"This is Captain Claire Richards of the Federation starship Independence." The image on the screen changed to show a middle-aged Zakdorn male.

"Klim Dokachin, Quartermaster, Surplus Depot Zed 1-5. I notice that you're a Constitution class vessel. I thought they'd been retired from Starfleet service long ago." This comment caught Claire by surprise.

"We're on a training cruise," she replied, which was not entirely untrue, since most of the crew were trainees. Dokachin looked sceptical, but said nothing more about it.

"What can I do for you?"

"We're looking for the records of two ships that were probably purchased from here."

"What ships?"

"A pair of old NX class Earth ships, the Freedom and the Friendship. Our information says that they were disposed of here. We'd like to know what happened to them."

"Hmm," said Dokachin. "You're the second person to ask me a question like that." This piqued Claire's interest.

"Really? When was the first?"

"About nine years ago. Fellow by the name of Riker from the starship Enterprise." The Zakdorn snorted, which Claire took to be a laugh. "Beam me aboard and I'll find them for you," said Dokachin before cutting the transmission. Claire cast a bemused look at Faye. Faye merely shrugged her shoulders.

"Lieutenant Brook. Go down to the Transporter Room and escort our 'guest' up here."

"Aye captain," said Brook before heading for the turbolift.

"Mr Churchill, I want you to go down to the monitor room in the computer core and ensure we don't burn out the main computer when we interface with his."

"Captain?" Churchill looked confused.

"No matter how well it's been upgraded, this ship's computer is still the one it was built with. It doesn't have the safeguards a modern computer does. I want to make sure it doesn't blow up and leave us stranded." Churchill nodded and left the bridge. Claire then sat in the captain's chair to wait. "Lisa," she said suddenly. "Are there any other starships nearby?" Lisa consulted her console.

"Two. The Destiny on patrol along the Neutral Zone, and the Devastation conducting torpedo trials at Gamma Hydra." Claire was about to respond when the turbolift doors opened to reveal Dokachin.

"Mr Dokachin, welcome aboard." Dokachin stepped off the turbolift and surveyed the bridge.

"Well, this is even better than last time," he said, looking first at Claire, then Faye, Lisa, Brook standing behind him, Burke at the engineering station and Deeley manning tactical.

"If you don't mind," said Claire, with some force in her voice. Dokachin looked at her.

"Do you have a station free?" Claire waved him towards the empty science station. The Zakdorn sat in the chair and began moving his hands across the controls.

"The Freedom and the Friendship you said? Hmm. Here we are. They were purchased whole 2 1/2 years ago."

"Purchased?"

"Yep; everything that's delivered here is free for purchase. Someone decided they wanted to buy these two ships, so they did."

"Can you tell me who?" asked Claire. Dokachin continued his manipulation of the console.

"The name on the purchase order is the GAMO Corporation." He thought for a moment. "Of course, Omag." Claire looked at him blankly. "Omag is a ship dealer; a fat Ferengi who frequents these parts. He used to deal in weapons until somebody scared him off."

"So, what happened to the ships after Omag bought them?" asked Claire.

"That I don't know, nor can I find out. After they're sold, they're no longer my responsibility. But, Omag does frequent one particular establishment whenever he's here." Claire narrowed her eyes.

"Thank you Mr Dokachin. I appreciate the help you've given us. Lieutenant Brook, please escort Mr Dokachin to the Transporter Room."

* * *

Amarie sat at the organ, playing some random melody that had popped into her head. Today was a quiet day, as could be seen by the fact that the jar she kept for tips had only three slips of latinum in it. It made sense; most of the big spenders were out on freight runs, leaving only one or two regulars and a few who were just passing through. It was then that she noticed someone unexpected walk through the door, a human female with fair hair wearing a tight one-piece trouser outfit, and boots that went up her calves. To Amarie's surprise, the human walked right up to her.

"Amarie I assume?"

"You assume correct. But you seem to have me at a disadvantage."

"Faye," said the human, extending her hand. Amarie shook it with one hand, while the other three went on playing.

"What can I do for you Faye?"

"I've heard that you know of an individual called Omag. I'd like to make his acquaintance." Amarie raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Why would you want to make his acquaintance? I've known some slimy Ferengi in my time, but he actually leaves a trail." This caused Faye to smile.

"Let's just say I have a proposition for him; one that I think will appeal to him." Faye looked at Amarie enigmatically. From the look in the human's eye, Amarie could tell that whatever the proposition was, it wouldn't be pleasant for Omag. Fine and dandy.

"You won't be able to miss him. There aren't that many fat Ferengi who come in here and ask me to play 'Melor Famagal'."

"Thank you," said Faye, depositing a slip of latinum in the pot. Where she'd been able to conceal that in her outfit, Amarie didn't ask.

"Just make sure you humiliate him. A lot," she said to Faye.

"I think that can be arranged."

* * *

The Cardassian military's disposal yard at Relais V was full to capacity - every single berth held a Cardassian warship of some type or another, all awaiting their fate. The vast majority had suffered damage during the war but, with the Cardassian economy in such a perilous state, the resources were not available to repair them. But, neither were the resources there to scrap them. So, they just sat in their berths, rotting slowly.

The tactical display in the yard's operations centre had a schematic of the entire yard, showing which type of ship occupied each berth, coloured blue for 'To be Repaired', red for 'To be Disposed of', and green for 'Status Unchanged'. Most of the vessels present were coloured green. But, down in one corner, one small vessel was flashing orange.

"Sir," said one of the technicians to his superior. "Look at this." The officer came over to where the technician stood.

"That's not right," he said as he stared at the flashing light. "That vessel's launch sequence has been activated. What ship is it?" The technician brought up the directory.

"Berth XF-19. Heavy Penetrator Tactical Weapon Prototype." This caused alarm to come to the officer's face.

"Override the launch sequence. Now!" The technician frantically worked at his panel, attempting to prevent the vessel from launching. But it was already too late - the umbilicals had disconnected and the missile was backing out of its berth.

"Tractor Beam!"

"No effect. The missile has activated a dampening field preventing us from locking on." The missile had now cleared its berth and set a course that was taking it to the edge of the yard. One of the yard's space tugs moved to try and cut it off - the weapon simply fired its thoron shock emitter, destabilising the power systems of the tug. By now, having engaged its impulse drive, the missile had reached the outer perimeter of the yard. It altered course again and, before anyone could try anything else, jumped to warp.

* * *

Mr Big watched the escape of the Cardassian missile via the tactical display he was receiving from the Freedom with significant interest. The override program he'd had installed in the weapon's computer had worked perfectly - it was well worth the bonus he would pay Trant for writing it. Now though, he had to ensure that the weapon reached his hands safely. He keyed the communications line to the Freedom.

"Mr Aitch, proceed to rendezvous with the missile and install the new navigation information. And Mr Aitch, ensure you install it correctly. We don't want any accidents."

"Yes Sir," replied Mr Aitch before disconnecting the channel. Mr Big looked up to see a Cardassian in his doorway.

"Ah, Dr Moset. Come in and sit down. You look exhausted."

"I will admit to feeling a little tired," said Moset as he sat in the chair opposite Mr Big.

"Did the procedure go well?"

"Let's say that I'm cautiously optimistic. The patient is in recovery now. Once the anaesthesia has worn off, we can run some tests to see how successful the surgery has been."

"Excellent Doctor. And assuming it is successful, how soon before Kamala can undergo the procedure?"

"Assuming we begin the initial drug therapy straight away, we can conduct the surgery within 28 days." This caused Mr Big to smile.

"Just in time for her to see my plans come to fruition."

* * *

Claire was standing watch in the bar, waiting for Omag to appear. It had been three days now since the Independence had arrived at Qualor II, and still there had been no sign of the fat Ferengi ship merchant. Claire had wiled away the time teaching Amarie the repertoire of 20th century swing music she had performed while with the Glenn Miller Orchestra aboard the Casper. Now though she had run out of songs. She glanced at her chronometer - another ten minutes and Lisa would come down to take over. It was at that moment she glanced up at the door. A fat Ferengi had just walked through the door with a female on each arm, one Ellora and one Deltan. However, she couldn't be sure...

"You," said the Ferengi, pointing at Amarie. "You know what I want to hear." The opening bars of 'Melor Famagal' began echoing through the bar. Now Claire was sure. She tapped the commbadge concealed inside her jacket.

"Richards to Independence."

"Go ahead." It was Churchill.

"Our quarry has just appeared."

"Acknowledged. I'll inform Lieutenant Tozer and Lieutenant Scott-Lee at once."

"Mr Churchill, once they're down here, don't contact us unless it's urgent."

"Could you define 'urgent' Captain?" This caused Claire to frown.

"You're a bright boy Mr Churchill. Use your best judgement. Richards out."

* * *

"Use your best judgement. Ha!" said Churchill to himself. It had been an hour since Faye and Lisa had beamed down to meet Claire. He had been left in command but, as the ship was in orbit, that had not entailed doing much. He was just contemplating going down to the main computer to check it over, when Brook motioned him over to the tactical station.

"What is it?"

"I thought you should see this." She pointed to her main tactical display. It showed a Galaxy class starship entering the system.

"Oh, that can't be good," said Churchill.