Interrogative

Posted on Tue May 15th, 2018 @ 8:09am by Makeba Brown
Edited on on Thu May 31st, 2018 @ 9:19pm

1,450 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Episode 2 - The Enemy Within
Location: SCIF - Deck 9
Timeline: MD006 1230 hrs
Tags: SD 71384.1230

Makeba Brown had a vague sense of where she was. Before joining up she was an Intelligence Operative. She knew the layout of ships, despite the bag that a man named Calhoun had placed over her head. What troubled her most at the moment was the obnoxious stench coming from the Marine to her right. Must be the Teallarite, only they can stink this bad. she thought. After being led through the ship for about ten minutes. She was thrown roughly into a chair and her hands bound behind her back.

"Comfortable..." The voice of the Tellarite came. "Yeah, I will do anything if you simply get your stinkin carcass out of here. I meant you stink something aweful." She replied.

Already standing in a dark shadow off to the corner of the room, Joren observed the interaction with mild amusement. He spoke with his deadpan voice, "I wonder how long you will smell delightful in that chair..."

Flarn and the other Marine faded into posts in the corners now that the prisoner was secured to the chair.

Makeba smiled broadly "Well Spook... I know that I can live with my own brand and in fact I have dealt with worse. The question is how long your panzy Starfleet sensibilities will allow me to be in here. If not you, then someone above you." The words came out of her mouth filled with vitriol and venom. There was no lack of hatred in this room at the moment.

Joran let out a long, slow breath before replying very calmly, "I suppose we will see in the end, won't we? I should let you know that this isn't your typical Starfleet interview, Miss Brown. We... aren't going to be conducting a standard line of questioning." He had been leaning on the wall but now stood straight and began to circle the chair slowly. "I don't mean that as a threat. It's just a fact. We will be spending lots of time together. Your comrades think you're dead. Everyone outside this ship thinks you're dead. So the sooner you tell us the truth about things, the sooner we can give you a hot meal and... let you freshen up your scent."

"If that is the best you can do, then you are going to get nothing out of me or anyone else for that matter. How you would up working Intel is beyond me. You could probably learn a thing or two from the Cardassians. There are a couple on the station if you would like to come with me I am sure taht they would be happy to give you some pointers." Makeba's response was dripping with attitude and a general lack of caring if she lived or died.

Joran paced around her, his cold eyes watching her for any reaction as he licked his lips. "It must be a struggle to continue your work without Sloan around. It's quite remarkable that two Starfleet officers got the better of him. The mighty always fall. It's just a matter of timing." He stopped his pacing and stood in front of her. "You're no different, Makeba, except for one thing: you have a choice. You have a choice before you that can potentially give you a clean slate."

The mention of Sloan made her blood run cold. No one knew. How could they know she thought. She deleted her records personally when she left the fleet. The idea to play along at least for the moment came to her. "Clean slate and what all of my sins are forgiven and I am welcomed back into the fleet with open arms. With all due respect WARRANT OFFICER you don't have that kind of authority. So what clean slate could you be thinking about?" Makeba stared across the table at him and simply blinked, unflinching.

Joran slowly pulled out the chair from the table opposite her and gently sat down and let out a faint sigh. "You wouldn't have to return to service if you didn't want to. You could just go live your life anywhere you wish. Of course, it would take a little cooperation in your part." He swallowed before continuing, "I don't think Sloan would mind, in this case."

"The man known as Luther Sloan died in 2375 so of course he would not mind. I am still waiting for some kind of assurance that you can actually make what you say happen. Or is this just a load of bulls&*t that you are handing me in an attempt to get me to talk. Listen carefully to the words that I am saying. I will tell you nothing unless I feel that I am safe. And right now it looks like you are a fisherman, and I am a shark. Why don't ask the little worm for some help?" Makeba practically spat the words at him. She would rather fight this man than have to talk to him.

Joran held out his hand to signal the security officer standing by the wall to walk over and give him a PADD. "This is a full pardon for all your crimes and alleged activities. You will get to walk free... contingent on the information you provide and assurances that you won't go back to your old ways again."

"That is not worth the data chips it is written on. What about the crimes that this ship perpetrated on behalf of the Federation. Who pardons those? Who answers for those that were murdered for politics?" She had dropped some of the attitude, her voice was now filled with passion.

Joran leaned forward slightly in his chair and raised an eyebrow at her. When he spoke, he did so with an air of quite realization of the truth. "I'm sure your fallen comrades would agree that this is a step in the right direction. None of us get what we want but maybe you can get closure for them."

Makeba squinted at the Trill for a moment. She had decided that he may have the right of it but she wouldn't come cheap. "Our quarrel is with Cardassia not the Federation. You are involved because you're here. So you leave and you've got yourself a deal. You said that none of us get what we want. Except there you're wrong, I sign that and you get a Maquis turning evidence. The Maquis get squat... You want yours then I need mine." She leaned in on the table and looked him in the eye, she wanted him to know she meant business.

He cocked his head to one side as he locked eyes with her. "I don't control what policies Starfleet or the Federation Council make, Miss Brown. On the other hand, this is the best offer you will get. Would your compatriots be satisfied with you rotting in a penal colony the rest of your life? Do yourself a favor." He paused a beat. "The Federation isn't going anywhere but as someone who once upheld the its ideals, is that such a bad thing?"

She slammed her bound hands on the table out of frustration. "When the Federation involves itself in another government that becomes the issue, the bad thing. Sloan saw that and that's why they killed him. I am asking you to ask your Captain to pull out. Leave Cardassia to the Cardassians. Let them answer for their crimes." This was it, her last chance, the beginning of Makeba Brown's manifesto.

"That isn't something for you or the Maquis to decide for Cardassia or the Federation. They have paid the price already with eight hundred million killed on Cardassia alone during the Dominion siege." He rose from his seat and turned to slowly walk away. "Everyone that pays the price deserves a second chance, Makeba..."

She let her head drop for a moment as she thought. Then like a lightening bolt it came to her. "Fine I'll sign your damn bargain, but information comes on a need to know. When you need to know you will. Also I am no one's pet prisoner." She tried to sound forceful but the fight was given from her voice.

Joran stopped and made a half turn toward her. "I'll see to it that you're accommodations are improved." He turned back and exited the room. "I'll let you know what we need to know first..."

A Joint Post By

Warrant Officer Joran Thal
Chief Intelligence Officer, USS Pioneer

Makeba Brown
Tactical Officer, New Maquis
NPC Malbrooke

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