Chasing Shadows
Posted on Sun Jan 9th, 2022 @ 10:53pm by Captain Temperance Harding
Edited on on Wed Feb 16th, 2022 @ 12:32pm
Mission:
Shoreleave
Location: Starbase 48
ON
The Turbolift doors opened, allowing Temperance Harding to step into the corridor. She had sent a conference request to the Starbase's Intelligence department and had been granted the meeting. It made her shake her head. The Intelligence community as a whole was such a bureaucratic circus. The meeting request, she knew, had gone to the Station's adjunct, from there to the Department Head, who routed it through the Security department to check her security clearance. Once that was done, it would have been routed back to the head of the Intelligence Department for scheduling.
Approaching a security checkpoint, which marked the entrance into the Intelligence division, Commander Harding had her identity confirmed, and as the computer interrogated her record, it approved her access. Waving through the checkpoint, Harding watched as an officer approached. The Lieutenant Commander came to a stop as Harding approached.
"Ma'am, I am Lieutenant Commander Hutchinson, a senior watch officer. I understand you are interested in an SNIE?" The Special National Intelligence Estimate - a term that was a holdover from pre-Federation clandestine agencies - was merely a Starfleet Intelligence summary and estimation of a particular subject, or event.
Harding looked the man over. Tall, thin, and with a serious expression. His grey undershirt marked him as a member of the Intelligence arm of Starfleet. "Yes, Commander. I have been tasked with investigating a few odd occurrences, and wanted to know what SFI had floating in the system."
Hutchinson nodded and indicated the way down the corridor. "If you would like to follow me, ma'am?"
There was something about the way he said that word, that Harding could not resist inquiring as she fell into step. "Oxford?"
"Cambridge. Bachelor's Degree in Intergalactic Politics and Relations. Joined the service after I graduated. What specifically were you interested in?"
Business only, Harding could deal with that. "There have been a series of piracy instances along the Klingon Border. Fairly certain the Klingon's aren't stealing supplies and letting folks live."
Hutchinson merely grunted. "Broad remit. I'll see what I can find." He led the way into an empty conference room. "If you'll wait here, ma'am, I'll get you what you need. Would you care for a coffee?"
"I prefer tea. Milk, one sugar." Harding replied as she took one of the dozen seats arrayed around the table.
Hutchinson nodded as he left. A few seconds later, he was replaced by a member of the security detail. A Petty Officer, Harding noted. Well, they were entitled to keep an eye on visitors. Even ones with something of a clearance level.
It took almost fifteen minutes based on the wall clock for Hutchinson to come back. He brought in a half dozen PADDs and set them down on the table. "You won't be able to take this material physically out of here. But, You are cleared to read through this material for as long as you need. Let the guard know when you're done." He nodded at the enlisted man. "Ma'am, if I may. Not for nothing, but what you're digging into... it feels like a shadow. A smoke cloud that just disappears when you grasp it."
Harding surveyed the PADDs. They were the larger style ones, rather than the typical hand-held PADDs she was used to. Surveying the stack, she picked the summary report.
//////////// SPECIAL NATIONAL INTELLIGENCE ESTIMATE ////////////
The recent attacks on civilian freighters, supply depots, and cargo storage sites along the Federation southern regional borders has become a major logistical concern for both the Federation government and Starfleet Command itself. These attacks, which have been increasing in frequency, pose a significant threat to the stability, and security of our colonial efforts along the fringes of Federation space.
While extensive efforts have been made to ascertain the identity of the individual, or - more likely - individuals behind these attacks, Starfleet Intelligence has been unable to positively connect any known government to the pirate activity.
The Klingons do not operate in this manner; the Romulans would not be interested in events so far removed from their geographic sphere of influence. The Cardassians, while they may well wish to kick a hornet's nest at the Federation, do not have the political will, or the logistical resources to conduct such operations. The Ferengi Commerce Authority, though more than willing to lie, cheat, and even steal, would not dare face the wrath of the Federation and Starfleet by such an act.
On, and on it went. Paragraph upon paragraph. The summation was simple: No one knew who the bloody hell was behind these attacks. That, to Harding, meant it was someone new. Something new. A threat that had not yet made itself public. That made it dangerous.
Switching to a different file, Harding tried to look into the locations of events. They were spread out almost entirely across the Southern end of Federation space. Ranging from Shokaal, all the way up to Aldebaran.
She paused mid-read. That was curious. A few of the most recent reports had placed a number of instances close to, or in the vicinity of the Renavi system. Checking her own report, she saw that the SS Liberte had also been in that very region when it had been attacked, and forced off-course.
Flipping to a Galatic star chart, Harding looked the system up. It was within a few hours of mid warp to the Lembatta Nebula. The Nebula was a cluster of stellar material from a small collection of former red stars, or so the astrogation reports said. Sensor information was spotty, as it was too dense to scan, and the unknown nature of the nebula made it hazardous to navigate.
Harding leaned back in her chair and picked up the cup of tea. "Difficult to scan, and hazardous to navigate." She mused to herself. "Bloody hell."
That had to be worth checking out. With luck, she could get the Squadron on the Endurance to perform a gradual sensor sweep as the Endurance proceeded behind, penetration deeper into the Nebula. She would be willing to put a hefty amount of latinum down that something was in that Nebula. A base, or a flotilla, something to give whoever was behind these attacks a base of operations.
If she could shut that down, she could cripple the operation, and force them to either stop - unlikely - or move into the open - probable. Once driven from their rat hole, they would be easier to hunt down, to push, to run out.
Stacking the PADDs in a pile, Harding rose to her feet and headed for the door. "Thanks. Let Commander Hutchinson know I'm done, and I got what I needed." She said to the security guard who had watched her impassively while she worked.
There wasn't a single word of reply as she passed out of the door, and headed back the way she had come, going back out the security checkpoint, and towards the main turbolift that would take her to the Operations department.
She had a mission to plan.
OFF
LTCMDR Clint Hutchinson
Starfleet Intelligence Watch Officer
Starbase 48
