The Spook of Rio

Posted on Thu Sep 1st, 2011 @ 3:55am by Chief Petty Officer Hugh O'Reily Jr.

1,459 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Mission 76 - Home comings
Location: Starfleet Intelligence and Analysis Center: Rio Branch
Timeline: present

Hugh looked patiently at the door in front of him. He had been told to wait. Waiting was usually something he didn't enjoy too well and tolerated even less. Yet, for some reason he wasn't in a rush to go through the door that held the office of a man who, by reputation-deserved and undeserved-for knowing everything about everybody. And if the scuttlebutt he heard from some of the intelligence analysts he talked to earlier at Starfleet Intelligence in San Francisco, Commander Gunther Vander was the man Chief O'Reily needed to talk about in regards to the ships and weapons that would be used by the colonial renegades should they oppose plans for the neutral zone to take effect.

Chief O'Reily had already received word that Ensign Dax had some pretty good base information on what the colonies had in terms of firepower and ships. Yet, something was missing. A handful of Gorn weapons and a few fast attack ships seemed a little obvious. Heavy on O'Reily's mind was the fact that what they possibly had wouldn't give them a chance in hell of doing much of anything to the Romulans. Even if the colonists had been fighting instead against the Cardassions using Maquis type tactics, there still wasn't much there that would make for an effective insurgency. That left Clark, an unknown variable that O'Reily hoped Vander could clue him in on.

The door opened. A small, elderly Andorian woman ushered him in. "This way please, Chief O'Reily."

Hugh followed the Andorian woman, who wore casual Andorian clothing, threw the door. The inside was a sharp contrast to the drab grey office space outside. A large, oak round table lay in the middle of the room on top of a very expensive looking Vulcan torisian hair rug. The west wall was covered with a row of books catalogued nicely in mahogany book shelves. The north wall was adorned with a massive stained glass window, depicting a Byzantine style St. Michael icon. The east wall, behind a glass and granite bar, was a large brick fireplace crackling with either real fire or one hell of a hologram of one.

"Ah, Chief O'Reily. A pleasure." The voice almost made Hugh jump as a tall thin man came seemingly out of nowhere to almost five feet away from O'Reily. He was a full head taller than Hugh. His long black hair was slicked back and into a ponytail that came to the base of his neck. His cold grey eyes seemed to almost penetrate into Chief O'Reily's soul.

"Commander Vander?" Hugh asked.

The tall man gave Hugh a thin smile. "We can drop the rank. Can't we?" It was then that Hugh noticed Gunther Vander wasn't wearing a uniform, rather a large red robe over what looked like a suit and tie. "I am Gunther Vander. I believe I have information that you may find useful. Though, I am quite displeased that Captain Mark couldn't make the trip himself. We have some..." He grinned wide, showing large white teeth. To Hugh, he looked like a wolf. "...unfinished business."

"Thank you for having me...uh...Gunther. Yes. There is some information we need" Hugh made his way to the table, and pulled out one of the chairs.
"We need to know about any ships and weapons a known pirate named-"

"Clark." Vander said casually as he made his way to the bar. "What's your poison, Chief?"

"I'm on duty. Besides, I don't drink," Hugh lied. "Clark, you know him?"

"Pity. I took you as an Irish whiskey man." Vander pored himself a glass of amber liquid into an expensive looking crystal glass. "You seem a little tense, Chief. Relax. We're both on the same side. Don't let my minor extravagancies upset you."

"Clark. What kind of equipment does he have?" Hugh was already starting to get impatient. There was something about Vander that simply didn't sit well with him.

Vander took a sip, and sat down on the opposite end of the table. "Very well, Chief. Business it is." He set the glass down, and folded his hands together. "About a year ago, twelve Sydney class ships were sent out toward the new colonies in the neutral zone. Starfleet thought they'd make ideal working transports for the colonists. They never made it. All twelve, crew and all, disappeared in route."

Hugh smirked. "Sydney class transport ships? Even with twelve, I'm not sure that's the kind of information I'm looking for."

Vander drummed his fingers on the table. "You didn't let me finish, Chief O'Reily. " He sighed. "These twelve Sydney Class ships were reconstructed during the Dominion War. The cargo space was fitted with a very special piece of equipment. A piece of equipment that was able to replicate photon mines, and transport them in position at a very high rate. The effectiveness of these mines were coupled with the fact that they were fitted with cloaking technology. Unfortunately, the war ended before they could be put into use. The replicators were supposed to be dismantled from those ships and stored in a secure facility on Mars."

"I hear a 'but' coming." O'Reily groaned.

Vander laughed heartily. "Yes! Indeed!" He stood up suddenly, drink in hand, and turned sharply toward the stained glass window. He took a step toward it, and took another drink. "When I learned you were coming..." he turned his head toward O'Reily," When I learned Admiral Bremer had concerns about Clark, the pieces to the mystery of those missing ships began to piece together." He looked back at the stained glass window. "I contacted the Olympus Mons Armory, had them check the secured crates those mine making replicators were supposed to be stored in."

"They're missing."

Vander didn't speak for a moment, only looked at the stained glass window. He slowly turned back around, set his now empty crystal glass on the table, and sat down. "Fifteen replicator units. All gone. As a matter of fact, it appears they were never even stored."

"Wait," Hugh stammered. "I thought you said there were only twelve of those ships."

"There are." Vander ran a hand over his slicked back black hair. "Twelve mine replicators for twelve ships, and three extra made to fit into the three ships that were never converted."

Hugh whistled, and shook his head. "How? How in blue blazes did Starfleet release those ships for 'civilian' use and forget to take out a weapon system like that?"
"Tsk, tsk , tsk. Chief. In this galaxy, in these times, there are hardly ever any accidents of this magnitude involving such dire circumstances as these that aren't first planned and schemed on. Imagine, a new Neutral Zone filled with cloaked photon mines, calibrated to detonate only Romulan ships. It's brilliant." Vander's eyes narrowed, his jaw set. "If Admiral Bremer is going to move on Clark and his associates, he best do it soon. Very soon."

"And what make you think those missing ships have anything to do with Clark?" asked O'Reily

"Some of his associates have been tracked purchasing numerous ship parts that taken as a whole, can only possibly be for a Sydney Class ship." He yawned. "That's all I really have for you, Chief."

O'Reily stood up, as if on cue. "If there is anything else that comes up-"

"-Yes, yes. But next time be sure to send down Captain Mark. You're a good man, Chief O'Reily, but quite frankly you bore me."

O'Reily gave Vander a mock salute. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Vander laughed, and again flashed his wolf like grin. "Good day, Chief. Be careful out there. My assistant will give you full specs on those ships as you leave."

O'Reily nodded, and headed out toward the door.

The old Andorian woman, PADD in hand, stepped forward. "Still having nightmares, Hugh?" she said softly.

Chief O'Reily's eyes went wide, a cold sweat breaking on his forehead. "Wh-what did you say?"

The old woman smiled, "I said, I hope you see us again soon."

Hugh turned toward Vander. The spook was staring back at him, a thin smile on his lips. Hugh turned back toward the old Andorian woman, and took the PADD. "Yeah. Sure. Have a good one." He quickly stepped through the doors, into the dull grey reception area, and went through another pair of doors that led him outside into the hot Rio de Janeiro sun. "Yorktown, one to beam up."

Before being beamed up by the Yorktown, Hugh looked back at the plain, single story building built in the high hills overlooking the Brazilian city. The only marking was a small sign that read 'STARFLEET INTELLIGENCE: NO TRESPASSING'. Besides that, it seemed just another, mundane building in the Rio de Janeiro landscape.

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