<FWG> <Section 31> Face-Off
- From: Jason Ziredac <ziredac@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: fwgalaxy@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Sun, 10 Dec 2006 23:58:24 -0800 (PST)
Face Off
by Vector
&
Commander Sedge Lindway
His molecules realigned themselves and he was able to breathe again. The
breath he drew was beautiful, oxygen ecstasy at its finest. The warm air
blowing in from the sea felt good and a change from the brisk winds from San
Francisco Bay. His eyes surveyed the surroundings: the palms wafting in the
gentle breeze, the almost pearl-white sand on the beach some fifty feet away,
and the ever-present sound of waves rocking the shore.
The compound rose up out of the leafy green forest, resembling in idea the
Mayan ziggurats in Central America. Jazon smiled to himself as he trudged up
the path. It twisted and turned its way through a dense forest - more
suitably, a jungle - and broke the timberline into a courtyard. The
temple-like structure appeared before him, the insignificance of his being
slowly becoming apparent, and a man was already headed his way. And, here we
go...
"Whoa, hold it, hold it, hold it," said the man, holding up stop-sign palms
and waving about an arrogance only God could pin. His hair was too short to
style, too long to forget, and his jaw was almost perfectly rectangular. "This
area's off-limits due to a diplomatic arrival. I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have
to vacate immediately."
Jazon handed the man a PADD. "Lieutenant Jazon Rutherford, I've just been
assigned to the Diplomatic Security detail under a Lt. Commander Sedge Lindway.
I'm just reporting for duty and when I told them to beam me here, I came in
just down off the beach with a path that led me here." He put on his dapper
and brash young face, his Starfleet inexperience coming through his usually
calm exterior. He half-laughed, more awkwardness appearing, "Should I have
called ahead?"
It took a moment for the event to sink in with the guard, his jaw wanting to
break the ninety-degree angles and appear like chewing a thought. "Oh, no,
just...no, no need. I, well, I apologize for the misunderstanding, sir. Please,
come this way. I'll show you in." The guard led Jazon through the faux-ancient
arch of the building's mouth, passing through sliding automatic doors made of
immaculately clear glass. A long, stone corridor branched off into ten
different hallways, five on each side, and a single receptionist sat tapping
out a rhythm with long pink fingernails. She smiled flirtatiously at the guard,
as if they had been exchanging glances all day, and then she took one look at
the handsome gentleman he was leading and drew a breath and exhaled a smile.
If I need information, flirt with her. He told himself as he returned the
smile and walked past her, heading down the fourth corridor on the right.
Jazon took in the surroundings again, as was his custom, and had already
tallied how long it had taken him to walk to the desk and turn into the
adjacent hallway, how many corridors there were and their intended
destinations, and the exact pattern of the secretary's tapping as they had
walked past. "So, turnover on Ambassadorial Escort duty high nowadays?"
Again, the guard's brain took its sweet time in decoding these words, and he
finally offered a reply. "Well, uh, it's an easy job enough..." Obviously the
reply wasn't exactly so. "Here's Lindway's office. Just go right in." The guard
left him standing before a great oak door with nothing to distinguish what lay
beyond.
Nodding, Jazon tapped on the door.
There came the standard welcome, the entrance, the man behind the desk. But
the man behind the desk seemed like he had been a man longer than the desk had
been a desk. With creaking knuckles, Sedge Lindway gripped the armrests of his
chair and hoisted himself off the seat. He wobbled a bit, like the palm trees
in the wind outside, and then finally came to stand at five-foot-eight, the
thinning white fog on his head giving him that extra inch. Kindly he smiled at
Jazon and rounded the desk (using it for balance), shooting out a wrinkled
hand.
"Lieutenant Rutherford, pleasure to have you aboard."
The grip was sturdy, but had begun to waver. His face was old, but there was
a hidden knowledge that came with time past. Jazon shook gingerly, almost
afraid of breaking the man's hand, and then took a seat in a chair nearby.
"Pleasure to be here, sir. I understand that the Gusmati delegation is being a
bit, what's the word, fickle when it comes to the people they keep around?"
"Well, these are odd people," Lindway said, sitting down with the same time
lapse as when he stood. After he finally touched down on Planet Chair, he
swiveled it to draw the blinds and stop the intruding sun from turning the
shimmering finish on his desk into a giant light bulb. "I've dealt with worse,
though. The Kaylerians were a difficult bunch, always 'protect the Prolate
this' and 'get Marina's entourage here that'... But you're right, these Gusmati
people are both extremely secure and lax at the same time. Can't quite figure
that one out. Anyway," he grumbled, "let's just get you properly signed on for
duty, shall we? Then we'll move on to your detail."
There came a beeping from the Lt. Commander's desk and a voice, a piercing
voice, came in loud and shrill through the device. "Commander Lindway, you
know that we would like to speak with the new security people when they arrive.
Please quickly get him associated with his post and have him report to us for
official briefing."
"Right away, Mister Tufil," Lindway said brightly. He pressed a button on the
device that provided the voice that obviously cut the channel. "Thirty years
ago, we were in charge. Then these new laws pass, which I'm sure you know
about, and all of a sudden we're like waiters, bending backwards for these
people. And also, thirty years ago, they didn't have their own callboxes that
went directly to my office!"
Lindway rose and slid Jazon a PADD. "You just sign your name on the roster
there and I'll go with you to go see your new boss for the next seventy-two
hours." A mere bubbling of complaints spat unnoticed from Lindway's lips as
Jazon looked over the roster.
He didn't know what was more terrifying, whether the man had been there
thirty years and therefore noticed the change, or that the change had happened
at all. Jazon pressed his thumb onto the indicator that registered his
presence at the facility and he stood. "This is going to be just like walking
them around and what not, right? I don't have to worry about radical
terrorists groups trying to blow them up? I've got a girl back home that I
plan on getting back too." Count it, he'd been there twenty minutes or so
before telling his first blatant lie.
"Oh, no," Lindway segued from one of his gurgling bitchings. "Haven't you
ever served security detail for ambassadors? It's like dog-sitting. You take
them for a walk, they take their dump, you walk them back, and all the while
they chew on your shoes and piddle on the rug."
Lindway walked to the door and motioned Jazon you first before continuing on.
"There hasn't even been a hint of terrorists, let alone terrorists going after
ambassadors, for several years. Granted I was here for the last one. There's
nothing to worry about. And you get a free show of politics while they're
inducted. All very exciting."
"Politics was never my forte. To be honest with you, Commander, I only took
this job so I could be closer to my girl. She hates me being gone and in the
line of fire of the Dominion and blah, blah, blah. She doesn't understand the
life of a Starfleet officer, I suppose, but I did this to make her happy."
Jazon straightened up and stood, heading in the direction in which he was
motioned. "The things we do for love, huh?"
"Does she live here in Hawaii?" Lindway asked as they exited the temple-esque
building and headed to another structure on the same compound.
"No, she lives in, uh, San Francisco."
"Oh, that's nice." His disinterest was a moderate beacon. Another pair of
fine glass doors slid open for them, and behind them was another almost
identical hallway, only without the different tributaries, and just one door at
the opposite end. Two guards who were already on duty saluted Lindway as he and
Jazon approached. One was a tall Hawaiian native and the other was a Bajoran
girl in her twenties.
"Derkins, Uriel, this is Lieutenant Jazon Rutherford. He's hopping on board
the security outfit for the Gusmati."
Derkins, the Hawaiian, nodded and was a second late for a unison "Hello" with
Uriel.
"The exalted Mister Tufil has requested his presence. Are they giving
any...any trouble?"
Uriel, again, was first to answer in a hushed, pensive voice. "The Gusmati
are...are quite demanding, sir, but we've been handling it insofar."
"Sounds like they're a hoot. Am I going to need pills for this?" Jazon mused.
The three laughed, and Lindway took Jazon's arm lightly and led him nearer
the door. "No, but you might wind up needing earplugs. Listen, when they ask
you questions, you better tell the truth. They are exceedingly good at
detecting lies. Even if they ask something completely unrelated to what's going
on, answer truthfully. There's no telepathy or anything, but they have
something up in their brains that?s like a friggin' polygraph. I lost an
officer just this morning because she lied about having a boyfriend. Keep up
your candor and you keep your job, all right?"
Apparently they've never met a Section 31 agent, Jazon said internally as he
nodded his understanding. "Good thing I don't plan on lying about my
boyfriend." He quipped lightly, but he knew that the humor he used outside
would not be held in high regard inside. Jazon took a breath, straightened his
uniform, and took a step into the world beyond. "Lieutenant Jazon Rutherford
reporting for duty, Ambassador."
"You Federation officers always assume things, and I strongly recommend that
before you actually meet the Ambassador that you fix that attribute
immediately." The Gusmati man standing before him wore a bright yellow robe and
white gloves, a circular little hat upon his head, and bright gold earrings
that lined the cartilage of his square-ish ears. His hair was frazzled like a
mad scientist; his eyes were bulging like a toad's; his posture mocked that of
a parrot?s. Like he was sizing Jazon up, the Gusmati man walked up to him and
prodded his abdomen like Jazon was a dead thing that had yet to be identified.
"Always built like you're ready to fight," he warbled. "What exactly are you
Federation officers so afraid of that you have to be so fit?"
"We take pride in being able to respond to anything to our fullest potential,
sir, being fit helps us accomplish this." His tone was specific, professional,
respectful, and discrete.
The Gusmati man squinted. "I admire your ability to quote, Lieutenant. Tell
me, have you ever been to war?"
It would make your skin crawl. "Yes, sir, I have seen my fair share of
battle. It's not pretty, it's not good, but it is good that war is so
terrible, lest we grow too fond of it. I've lost my friends, my family, my
respected elders. And, with the Dominion threat permeating our boundaries, it
hits too close to home." He had chosen his words carefully, mentioning the
Dominion in an attempt to probe the Gusmati's interests in the war, and whether
or not they cared.
"Hm. Hate the Dominion, do you?"
"It depends on your definition of hate, sir."
"Interesting answer. And stop calling me 'sir,'" the Gusmati man exploded,
giving another solid prod to Jazon's ribcage. "My name is Tufil, Mr. Tufil for
your formality, Lieutenant Rutherford. Now tell me: how do you define 'hate?'
My definition is arbitrary. What matters in the question is how you define the
emotion."
"On the contrary, Mr. Tufil, how I define the emotion is arbitrary. For how
I define the word hate you may see as mere dislike, or a passionate loathing.
The application of my outlook on the Dominion as it relates to your definition
of hate is going to give you a more solid judgment on my integrity of
character." Jazon kept his gaze locked on the man, his hands firmly clasped
behind his back, and his ribcage on the cusp of bruising.
Tufil laughed, pompously, bleating a few sporadic "ho's" and then
crescendoing into a truly entertained cackle. "You're a rare one," he said.
"Most young cadets chime appropriately with their militant chants of Yes I hate
the Dominion, SIR and disgustingly patriotic things of the like. You
federations and the freedom you fight for...sometimes I wonder whether its
worth it."
"Well, Mr. Tufil, I assume that you have already made up your decision on
whether or not it's worth it seeing as you're pledging for membership to that
same Federation." The question had made Jazon's interest perk, something he'd
definitely look into later. "Freedom is the noblest of all things to fight
for. In my tenure with Starfleet, I've learned there's nothing more important."
"Freedom is something to fight for, and that's exactly why you're here."
Tufil motioned to the inner door, wherein dwelled the Gusmati ambassador for
the time being. His buggy eyes darted away as if Jazon was just another
meaningless subject of prey that had wandered by. "You can enter now and start
doing your duty."
Nodding respectfully, Jazon let the man's lack of interest slide off his
back. After all, Jazon realized, the man was nothing more than any other
politician he'd ever met. Again, he took a couple of steps and parted the
doors and crossed the threshold into a new world. The air around him became
pungent, as if the dirty politics had somehow manifested itself into breathable
air. Rank air, at that.
"Lieutenant Jazon Rutherford, reporting for duty, sir." Is there an echo in
here?
"Good, another one that passed Tufil's amusement." The word amusement was
slightly discomforting. "I am Ambassador Gali Shorz. Lieutenant Rutherford, I
trust you will be a worthy security officer for our brief visit here."
Ambassador Shorz was shortish as well, and it was now Jazon gathered that buggy
eyes were a Gusmati trait. His hair was long and gray, and the ages were upon
him, resting in his cheeks more than anywhere else.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ambassador. I will strive to
serve you in any way possible and to the best of my abilities." The words came
out professionally punctuated and all the emphasized words were spoken with
complete perfection; after all, he had said the same thing on so many different
jobs, on so many different planets, as so many different people.
His eyes had already searched the room by the time he had been addressed. It
was a typical political office with few differences. The first was the obvious
changes Starfleet had made to accommodate the tinier delegation. What caught
his eye the most was the bookcases that no doubt held tons of volumes on
Federation policy and history. The second one in seemed to stand out from the
wall, as if concealing something... he'd come back to it later.
"Do I have my first assignment, sir? Or do I continue to report to Lt.
Commander Lindway?"
"I do not dole out assignments. I merely require meeting with all who are
intended on my security. You are dismissed to Commander Lindway. But before you
go, let me extend one ultimatum: while serving on my detail you will answer to
one of us before answering to one of your own. This is a situation drawn out
prior to this meeting; we are at an understanding?"
There was already a list playing in his head as he walked out the door. He
would have to call Mosaic and get her to look some things up for him, she was
in the perfect position within the Federation Council to do so without drawing
unwanted attention to herself. Yes, Ambassador, I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot
more of you before this mission is over.
---------------------------------
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