SIMULATION HISTORY
2364 | 2367 | 2375 | 2378 | 2378b
Jorel was getting anxious. Tonight was the big night. He'd arrived in the Tirod system two days ago and docked his ship with what was once called the Makaba, a Klingon Research Outpost that was abandoned during the Praxis crisis. It was situated inside the Tirod Nebula, which made it the perfect outpost for the Orion Syndicate. Jorel had invited a number of wealthy clients to the station to auction off some of his most recent acquisitions. Everything and anything a warlord, smuggler, or villain would want, from Kurlan artifacts to stolen Romulan scout ships. However, the centerpiece of this auction would be the stolen Starfleet schematics of the Galaxy class and the, still in development, Defiant class. He hadn't been this anxious since his successful attempt to elude the Romulan Tal-Shiar team that was sent to capture him years ago on Alteron III.
A beeping sound was coming from a silver briefcase at the side of his bed. He grabbed the suitcase and flipped open the lid to reveal a communications system. On the screen an image of a Zakdorn female appeared dressed in a typical drab Zakdorn-style dress. Jorel sighed inwardly at soon as the image coalesced on his screen. It was Verna Tiloran, an associate of Jorel's. She stared disapprovingly at him and shook her head.
"I am in receipt of your request. I am in no position to deny it. However, I think it's a mistake."
Jorel laughed out loud, "It's a good thing you're in no position to deny it."
"Does this have something to do with Maria's death? We all know why you couldn't be there. She wouldn't hold it against you"
Jorel's face darkened, "Look, all I need you to do is to do as I asked. Have the arrangements been made as I requested?"
"Well… yes, we are standing nearby now… but that doesn't mean…" Jorel cut the transmission before Verna could complete her sentence. He checked the chronometer on the wall and saw that it was time to make his way to the auction. Jorel got up from the bed, put on his jacket, and started to head towards the grand hall.
Jorel nodded to the two Orion sentinels guarding the main entrance and was quickly let through. The Grand Hall was immense. Converted from an old Klingon cargo bay, it was the picture of opulence and decadence; exotic humanoid females, mingling with patrons or dancing around metal poles, drinks that bubbled, frothed, or sizzled, delicacies from every corner of the quadrant. There were representatives from practically every race that the Orions' did business with. Many were looking out the series of windows on the east side of the room staring at the swirling Nebula around them. Jorel made his way to the center platform and nodded to the Orion female standing next to the podium. She turned off the music and called the hall into order. The attendants made their way to their reserved seats for the auction to begin.
Jorel smiled at the crowd and bowed in respect. "The first piece up for auction is from the long dead civilization of the Kurlan…" The bidding continued for the next hour. Item after item was quickly sold at a profit level far higher than expected.
As the auction was coming towards a close, Jorel displayed images of the Galaxy class and Defiant class vessels on the holo-screen hanging above the center platform. The crowd started murmuring in excitement. Jorel surveyed the crowd and was trying to determine how high he should start the bidding. He turned from the crowd, waiting for the low level murmuring to cease and glanced towards the windows on the east side of the room. He froze. He turned off the holo-screen and backed away from the podium. The crowd started to protest but their bellowing did not cause Jorel to return to the center platform. The crowd then, as one, turned to see what Jorel was staring at and they quickly bolted out of their seats. The screaming of the guests was only drowned out by the alarms that began to sound as 5 Federation Starships took up tactical positions around the Makaba.
****
Panic ensued in the grand hall. While many of the auction attendants on board the Macaba were extremely wealthy, many of them also had any number of warrants for their arrest in Federation space. The guests began to scramble towards the exits on the north and south side of the hall but as they approached the doors they found them sealed and unwilling to open. Jorel looked around the room, trying to find a ventilation shaft or some other means of escape other than the main hall doors, but found none within reach. He attempted to amass the materials that were set to be auctioned off into their storage containers when the station was rudely rocked by heavy weapons fire. Jorel looked out the grand hall's windows and saw that the Federation starships were attacking the Macaba and meeting no resistance. The station wasn't firing back. Worse, three of the Federation ships had already docked with the station and were presumably sending Security teams over. His attention shifted towards the exits as he heard yelling coming from outside the Northern and Southern doors.
Starfleet Security forces broke through the two doors simultaneously and quickly took control of the room. Some of the guests attempted to make a break for it as the Starfleet security personnel came in but were quickly rebuffed by a few well placed phaser blasts and rifle butts to the head. A tall Human Starfleet officer walked towards the center stage and prepared to address the crowd. He had the pips of a Lieutenant Commander and had that usual Starfleet arrogance look in his eyes.
"I am Lieutenant Commander Yager. This is an illegal smuggling operation and you will all be detained for questioning and processing. Do not resist the Starfleet Security personnel. They have been given full authority to use deadly force if necessary. You will all be processed, and, if found innocent of any crimes, will be released. Until then… you will all be transferred to one of the Federation vessels docked to this station."
The crowd bellowed in protest but a few shots from Yager's phaser rifle quickly silenced them. Yager continued on quoting Starfleet laws and subsections this and that. While Yager continued his speech, Jorel had made his way closer to the southern exit and found himself standing directly behind an Andorian security guard. Jorel surveyed the crowd and saw that all attention was focused on Yager. He decided that if he was going to make a break for it this would be the best time. Jorel elbowed the security guard in the side of the head, dazing him, and then pulled out a Ferengi phaser and fired at Yager. As Yager went down, Jorel grabbed the Andorian and held his Ferengi phaser to the security officer's temple. Every phaser rifle in the room was now aimed squarely at Jorel.
"I am going to walk out of here. Anyone try to stop me and I will squeeze the trigger. I will get to my ship and leave here and will return your security officer to you when I have been granted safe passage."
The room was deadly quiet. No one responded to Jorel's demands. Unsure of how to proceed, he began to slowly back out of the hall towards the Southern exit. Seconds seemed like hours as Jorel inched closer to exiting the hall. None of the security personnel moved. Things were going well and Jorel believed he may actually get out of this mess intact. However, he had underestimated the Andorian security guard's recovery time and was caught off guard when the Andorian elbowed him in the stomach, picked him up over his head, and threw him back into the hall. Rolling as he hit the ground, Jorel stood up, pulled out his Ferengi phaser and aimed at the Andorian. He froze as he felt the muzzle of a phaser rifle in his back.
Lieutenant Commander Yager, still dazed from the shot he took earlier, had set his phaser rifle to maximum. "Surrender now or else, when I'm done with you, a whole team of forensic specialists won't be able to scrape a trace of your DNA from the deck."
Jorel was trapped. He refused to be hauled off to a Federation rehabilitation camp but saw no way out of this predicament. The crowd, seemingly forgetting their predicament, was now watching in stunned silence at the showdown that had erupted between Jorel and the Starfleet Security personnel. They looked at Jorel as if he was their one last hope to escape Federation detention and incarceration. Jorel saw no way around it. He screamed in frustration and began to squeeze the trigger of his weapon. Yager was too quick. He discharged his phaser rifle before Jorel could get a shot off and watched as Jorel's body vanished from existence. The auction pieces were seized and the Starfleet Security officers rounded up the rest of the guests and herded them off the station.
****
It had been a difficult adjustment period. The incident on the Macaba three days ago had left him physically and emotionally exhausted. His life, as he knew it, was, once again, over. He hadn't realized the toll his ordeal had taken upon him until he found himself deeply concerned that some sort of apparition had taken up residence in his bathroom mirror. He found himself, standing in the bathroom, staring at a man with an angular face and tanned skin. He had a glow about him that belied his dark features. His eyes matched his black hair and he had a small scar above his left eye. Odder still, the man he was staring at moved in tandem with his own actions. His brain was so numb that it took him a full thirty seconds to realize that the apparition he had been so enthralled by was in fact his own reflection staring back at him. He looked to his left and right as if someone could be watching him while he was in the bathroom and let out a sigh of relief when he saw no one present. He pawed at his face, trying to familiarize himself with the image in the mirror; his image. It had been five years since surgeons from Stafleet had altered him and he'd set out on his life of Federation sanctioned crime.
The door to his quarters opened without notice and in walked a female Zakdorn. Hearing the doors open, he walked out of the bathroom and saw that his guest was holding a small cube shaped device in her left hand and a padd in her right. She placed the cube shaped device on the center table and pressed a button on its side. The device momentarily emitted a low-pitched tone and was then silent.
"Verna, it's customary to ask permission when entering someone's quarters. To do otherwise is a severe breach of Starfleet protocol and just plain rude." He added with a smirk, "Besides, who knows what I could have been doing in here."
Verna Ziloran cast him a severe look, "Welcome home Jorel. It seems, despite your years of undercover work, you've maintained some knowledge about Starfleet protocols and standards. Not that this would have been evident from reading your case file."
Jorel rolled his eyes, "If Starfleet had a problem with anything I've done I'd have been pulled out of the field. Not to mention if you actually felt that way you wouldn't have argued so vehemently against my transfer out of Starfleet Intelligence."
Verna ignored Jorel's comment and grabbed his chin. Jorel reflexively tried to back away but her hand held firm. "Seems like our little transport-by-phaser job worked. Your alter ego is effectively dead. The doctors here on the Damocles should be praised for their work on restoring your original appearance." She let him go and handed him the padd she walked in with. "Your request for transfer has been approved. You have been assigned as the Security Chief aboard the USS Freeman under Captain Roan Dillinger. She will be on a deep space assignment for the better part of the next decade. You are expected to arrive aboard Deep Space X in six weeks. That is when the Freeman leaves for her assignment. Your belongings have already been transferred to the Freeman. I assume that this will be acceptable."
Jorel took the padd and read the official orders. "Lieutenant Jorel Calhoun… I wondered what rank Starfleet would deign to afford me… everything looks acceptable. Was there anything else?"
Verna nodded and reached into her front pocket. "One last thing, Maria wanted you to have this. It was in her will. I managed to get it for you considering you were… unable to attend her funeral." She handed Jorel an over-elaborate necklace that seemed as if it was carved from some kind of wood with the symbol of a bird and fire at its center. "Coincidentally, it appears to be of Kurlan origin. Much like the items you had acquired for your auction. This would make the necklace almost priceless."
Jorel was speechless. He and Verna never had what one would call a good relationship. In fact their relationship could be best described as adversarial. He hung the necklace in the air and stared at it. Verna smiled at that and nodded to Jorel "Good luck. Despite our differences, you always got the job done. I've never known a member of your species that behaved quite like you. I hope your time aboard the Freeman helps you find what you need."
Jorel rolled the necklace into his hand and took a deep breath. "Thank you Verna. I share the sentiment. I appreciate everything you've done for me, even though at times that may not seem obvious."
At that, Verna bowed and walked out of his quarters. Jorel, still staring at the necklace, sat on the edge of his couch. He looped it around his neck and closed the wooden clasp. He stared out his window and watched the stars roll by as the Damocles continued onto it's destination at warp speed. He had nothing he wanted to do between now and his arrival aboard the Freeman. No family he wished to contact and no friends he could speak to about his sudden reappearance. He was now alone. It was going to be a long six weeks.