S02 E04: Chronicles of T'Avaya: Move Along Homn

 

S02 E04: Chronicles of T'Avaya: Move Along Homn

            Mission log. Stardate 45131.9. Agent T'Avaya reporting. I am underway to Nunu, a non-Federation colony planet. My mission is to retrieve contraband in the form of canisters of metaphasic radiation that was stolen from Ba’ku. The radiation is referred to as “Bramok”. The rings of the planet Ba’ku continually regenerate their population’s genetic structures, which stops them from aging once they reach maturity, granting them perfect health, and preventing permanent illness or injury. Starfleet Intelligence has sent me to meet with an informant who can lead me to the Orion Syndicate boss who stole the Bramok. Miadere, a female Deltan/Orion hybrid agent for the Interstellar Commerce Protectorate, has been sent to assist me on this mission.

 

            Chio ate his food voraciously, chewing as quickly as possible, as if someone would take it away if he didn’t finish it. Then he licked every crumb from the bowl. Once he had cleaned his bowl, Chio looked up at T’Avaya with expectant eyes. T’Avaya reached down and petted him. She knew she had given him as much sustenance as he needed. Still, she was almost inclined to accede to his adorable, loving little face. If she gave him more, she knew he would keep eating. In the wild, the Kt'Chraann were a species that had to hunt for food, so their natural instincts were to eat whenever possible. But domesticated, their food needed to be rationed, lest they develop too much unhealthy fatty tissue.

            T’Avaya was saved from her thoughts of giving more food to Chio as Miadere walked in. The long-legged Deltan/Orion petted Chio and sat down at the table with T’Avaya. Miadere had not spent much time aboard this ship of T’Avaya’s, but it seemed very comfortable and spacious. It was a Danube class ship that was no longer in use by Starfleet. T’Avaya changed the prefix code and registry often, so that it could never be identified as a ship used by a Starfleet Intelligence civilian agent. At each port of call, T’Avaya gave the ship a different name. But in her mind, she called it the Shavokh, after a Vulcan hunting bird.

***

            Satra entered the casino and looked around. The Blarin Casino was a very high-class establishment, where wealthy entrepreneurs came to enjoy good food, shows, drinks, and high-stakes gambling. Satra’s black sequined evening gown and high heels were more than appropriate. She wore her long hair upswept and adorned with a red Argelian feather headdress topped with a silver Saurian pendant. As the Vulcan T’Avaya, she would never dress like this. But in her Starfleet Intelligence disguise and hologram-altered face, Satra was a Vulcan who felt at ease in the glamorous life. She sat at the round bar at the center of the casino and ordered a Romulan ale. Looking around, she spotted a Tongo table where a very handsome human male seemed to be garnering attention. She took her drink over to the table, pulled up a chair, and sat next to the human.

            The man turned his head and looked at her, eyes wide open, staring at her with cool interest. “I noticed you from across the room. You look like you’re on a winning streak tonight,” she said to him. Grinning, he said, “Yeah. I’ve been on a good run. How’s your night going?”

            “Well, it just got better now. Mind if I join you for a bit?”

            “Not at all. I’d love some company. The name’s Thomas, by the way.”

            “Satra,” she said.

            “Nice to meet you, Satra.”

            She watched him play a round. He was clearly a skilled Tongo player, knowing just when to Evade and when to Confront. He could probably beat any Ferengi at this game without batting an eye. She cheered him on for another hour, as other players left in frustration. Thomas finally told the table host to put his winnings on his tab. He escorted Satra to a more private room on the floor above the casino.

            “Well,” said Thomas, “Starfleet Intelligence certainly knows how to pick ‘em.” Satra had been trained on loosening her Vulcan emotional control for some intelligence assignments. She replied playfully, “I see you are every bit as charming as your twin, Commander William Riker.” For Thomas, that almost broke the mood. He hated being compared to Will. He had not been in touch with Will since breaking out of a Cardassian prison. Since then, he had kept a low profile. He clandestinely helped Starfleet Intelligence on occasion. “If you spend some time with me, I’ll show you how different I am from him.”

            Satra, as he expected, had no more time to waste. She asked him what he knew about the stolen Bramok canisters. He told her he had visited some of his former Maquis friends on Betazed, helping them to rebuild after the Dominion War. He heard that Ambassador Lwaxana Troi, mother of his former lover Deanna Troi, had learned about the anti-aging, healing canisters of radiation. She heard the Bramok could grant perfect health. Ambassador Troi had a close friend who was dying from a degenerative disease. She had read the mind of a wealthy trader at a Betazoid charity affair and found out a Nausican boss in the Orion Syndicate on Nunu had stolen some Bramok from a Starfleet medical facility She sent her manservant, Homn, to Nunu to obtain one of the canisters of the Bramok. Homn knew exactly where to find the Nausican. “So follow Homn, and you’ll find the Nausican boss, Tringeri,” Thomas told Satra.

            “Where is Homn now?” asked Satra.

            “He’s at the bar. You were sitting two seats down from him before you came over to my table.” Satra was a little surprised that Thomas had spotted her before she had spotted him. He went on, “He likes the Andosian liquor here. The bartender told me Homn is going to meet with Tringeri tonight at midnight.” Satra thanked Thomas for the information. He invited her to come back any time to gamble or just to see him. She told him she would consider it. She called Miadere and told her to meet her outside the casino.

            Satra went back down to the casino area. It was only a few minutes before midnight. She spotted Homn. He was a bald, grey-skinned humanoid. She did not recognize his species. He seemed to enjoy drinking more than talking. She saw him pay the bartender and leave the building. As she followed him outside the building, she saw Miadere waiting for her.

            They discreetly followed Homn down the street. At the time that he had been sitting at the bar, Satra had not noticed how tall he was. With his long legs and long stride, the two women walked at a brisk pace to keep up with him, carefully trying not to be noticed. They followed him down ten city blocks, across a foot bridge, and through a deserted alley. At the end of the alley was a night club called Charib’s. Homn showed his identicard to the guard. The guard allowed him to walk inside. Satra and Dior (“Dior” being Miadere’s undercover name) flashed their fake identicards--and their smiles--at the guard, and he nodded and let them inside.

            As soon as they entered the night club, they were on a crowded dance floor with blaring music. There was no sign of Homn. Satra and Dior asked around for anyone matching Homn’s description. Surely he must have stood out. They were told he went through a door in the back of the room. They found the door, opened it, and went through. It was unguarded and unlocked. They were now in a large room full of boxes stacked all the way to the ceiling. As they started to discuss their next move, Satra suddenly stiffened and fell to the floor, unconscious. Dior caught her before her head hit the floor. She gently laid her down. Dior caught sight of a foreign object on Satra’s bare neck. It was a small dart. Satra had been hit with a tranquilizer dart.

            Before Dior could signal their ship for an emergency beam out, she heard someone approaching. She saw a figure step out of the shadows. It was a male Tellarite. He offered his assistance. Dior had already removed the poisoned dart and hid it on her person. The Tellarite introduced himself as Zahv. She let him pick up the unconscious Satra and take her to a room with a couch. He laid her on the couch. He went into the washroom and got a damp cloth to put on her forehead. “You must be here to see Tringeri,” he said.

            “Yes,” Dior said.

            “Here to bid on the Bramok,” Zahv said. “Everyone has been coming for that. It’s one of the most lucrative things Tringeri has ever stolen.”

            “Yes,” Dior said again. “Immortality and perfect health. It’s almost too good to be true.”

            Zahv was one of Tringeri’s minions. She described Homn to Zahv and asked if he had seen him. He said a man fitting that description just went in to see Tringeri. Dior tried to get more information out of Zahv. She asked him where Tringeri kept the Bramok. He told her that that was a closely guarded secret that he could tell no one. She smiled sweetly at him and said slowly, “Of course it is.” She put her arms seductively around his neck. As she got closer to him, she could feel his body reacting to her combined Deltan/Orion pheromones that were so very effective at enhancing her powers of persuasion.

            “And only a man of your stature could be trusted with such a secret.”

            He said, “That…is…right,” as he dazedly looked into her eyes.

            “And if you were to tell me, it would be our little secret.”

            “Oh…ahhh…”

            “Please tell me where the Bramok canisters are…Please.”

            He told her. The canisters were stored in another room in the same building. Of course, the room would be locked. But Miadere was an expert locksmith. She had grown up on the streets of Orion. Stealing food or whatever she needed had been the only way to survive. A near death experience as a teenager convinced her to turn her life around. But then she discovered that, due to her dubious past, she had skills that could be useful to the Interstellar Commerce Protectorate--a secret intelligence organization formed by non-Federation worlds to gather intel on the Orion Syndicate. As the organization grew, its purpose expanded to gathering intel and protecting the security of Federation and non-Federation worlds. It was not unusual for InCom, as it was called, to combine resources with Starfleet Intelligence.

            After she got the info she needed from Zahv, she told him to leave and that she would get with him later. Of course, he believed her, and he left the room contentedly. Right after he left, T’Avaya (Satra) awakened. She sat straight up and said, “Where is he?”

            Miadere (Dior) knelt beside her and said, “You were unconscious for a few minutes. How do you feel?”

            “I feel fine. Is Homn here?”

            Miadere explained what happened as she pulled out a tricorder and scanned T’Avaya. She could not detect a concussion or anything serious, but then, she did not have a full medical tricorder. T’Avaya stood up and said, “We need to get the Bramok and leave.” Miadere put the tricorder back in her pocket.

            As they started to leave, two Bolians walked through the door. “What are you doing here?”’ one of them said. Satra and Dior looked at each other. The other Bolian said, “Come on. It’s time for Tringeri’s announcement. The two Bolians led the two women out of the room and down the hall to another large room that was full of people. There were dozens of people, apparently all from different worlds. Satra and Dior tried to blend in with the crowd as the two Bolians let them be. A large Nausican (and what other kind of Nausican was there?) entered from the other side of the room. Everyone fell silent as he started to speak.

            “You have all come here for the secret to long life,” he exclaimed proudly. “I do not have enough for all. To choose who gets Bramok, you must fight in battle royale. One against one. Each winner will fight a new person. Until there is only one victor left.”

            Everyone in the crowd looked at each other and started murmuring.

            Dior whispered to Satra, “Let’s try to get out of here and get those canisters.”

            Satra answered, “You go. I will stay here and fight.”

            “What!?!” Dior said in amazement.
            “It’s a battle royale. I’ve never done one before. It will be a good test of my suus mahna fighting skills.”

            Dior whispered under her breath, “T’Avaya, are you feeling alright?”

            “I’ve never felt better.” Dior knew that something was wrong with T’Avaya. She did not want to leave her at this time. The two Bolians they saw before, plus a few Orion muscle men, starting going through the crowd making everyone move from the center of the room to the perimeter. Dior and Satra moved to where they were told. In the center of the room, Tringeri had the Bolians pick out a Packled and a skinny Orion from the crowd.

            “These two will be the first to fight!” said Tringeri. Some people in the crowd started to cheer. Others stood quietly, hoping they wouldn’t get chosen next. Dior looked sideways at Satra, who looked genuinely interested in the fight. Dior discreetly pulled out her tricorder (no one was watching her anyway) and scanned Satra and the room for any signs of radiation or anything that could affect mood or emotions. Her tricorder did not pick up anything unusual. She noticed the Pakled had lost the fight. He was lying on the ground, eyes open, bleeding. He was not dead, but he would be soon if he didn’t get medical attention. Two burly Nausicans carried him away as the head Nausican, Tringeri, chose the next person to fight the skinny Orion winner.

            Tringeri pointed at a tall, apparently human, female. The woman stepped forward. She had long brown hair, some of it braided, and a confident look on her face. She took a warrior’s stance. Ah, thought Dior, this woman is a trained fighter. The Orion will not last long against her. But Dior did not need to concentrate on the brawl. She needed to get to the Bramok. She looked again at T’Avaya. The Vulcan still seemed determined to watch the fight. Dior looked around the room. She saw Homn standing in a far off corner. She wondered if he would fight too. She saw Zahv watching the crowd. She didn’t think seducing him again would do her any good. She looked around some more. Then someone with a gruff voice said, “I’m betting on the woman. Always bet on the woman.” She turned around.

            It was another Nausican. She noticed there were several in the crowd holding up currency. They had been placing bets. Dior joined in the conversation in order to keep her cover.

            “Yes,” Dior said. “The woman will win.”

            “You should fight. I’d bet on YOU!” The Nausican said to her. It must be her pheromones. Sometimes they affected the weak-minded with very little effort on her part.

            “Perhaps I will,” she said. “Know of anyone who would be a good opponent for me?”

            The Nausican pointed toward the center of the room and said, “Her!!”

            Dior looked back at the center of the room. It was Satra! She was going up to fight the human warrior woman. “Oh, no.” Dior exclaimed under her breath. She left the Nausican to get closer to the brawl.

            She saw Satra throw a right cross at the human. The human acted like she didn’t even feel it. Vulcans are typically stronger than humans. Maybe this woman wasn’t human, thought Dior. Satra did a drop kick. The human fell backwards. But then she quickly got back to her feet before Satra could deliver her next kick to the face. The human caught Satra’s foot and held it. Satra used it as leverage and kicked with her other foot, and they both fell to the ground as the human had taken the kick to the face and let go of Satra’s foot that she had been holding. They both scrambled back to their feet. Then Satra charged at the human. The human moved out of the path, and Satra landed on the ground. The human gave Satra one punch to the face and a final kick to the stomach. Satra writhed in pain. She could no longer get up.

            Dior pushed her way through the crowd. As the human woman was declared the winner, Tringeri allowed Zahv to carry Satra through the crowd and out of the room. Zahv led Dior to a safe room. Once there, Zahv laid Satra down on a bed. Dior’s pheromones had worn off and he acted as if he didn’t remember her. He went over to the supply cabinet and pulled out some bandages and a disinfectant. Dior pulled out her tricorder and scanned Satra. She would be okay once her wounds were properly cared for.

            “She did well against the genetically engineered human. Though not as well as I had hoped,” Zahv said.

            “So that woman was genetically engineered?” said Dior.

            “She is indeed. I saw her when she made her bid with Tringeri. She doesn’t need the Bramok herself. She has a much longer life than other humans. She said she wants the Bramok for some friends of hers. If I had known she would be here, I wouldn’t have arranged the fight with the Vulcan.”

            “What are you talking about,” said Dior. “You arranged it?”

            Zahv said that when Tringeri told his people he was going to have a battle royale so that the bidders would have to fight for the Bramok, Zahv drugged Satra, by way of a dart, that would enhance her aggressive tendencies and make her want to fight. He knew she was a skilled Vulcan fighter, trained in the Vulcan martial art of suus mahna, and should be able to defeat the others will her superior skill and strength. He did not count on a genetically enhanced human entering the battle. If Satra had won the battle royale fair and square, she could have taken the Bramok and not have to steal them.

            Dior was listening to the Tellarite and thought of all the unanswered questions his so-called explanation raised.

            Dior said to Zahv, “You knew that she knows suus mahna? You knew that she would be here?”

            “Your friend Thomas Riker told me,” the Tellarite said smugly. “Thomas sells me information sometimes. He said one of the people bidding would be a Vulcan who knows suus mahna. And that he would be grateful if I could sway Tringeri to let the Vulcan have the Bramok. So I tried to arrange for her to win battle, but she was no match for the engineered human.”

            So, thought Dior, Thomas had put in a good word for them. At least he tried. Zahv explained that he had wanted Satra to win and then he was going to ask her to give one Bramok canister to his friend Mr. Homn. Zahv had met Homn through a mutual friend on Betazed. Satra was a Vulcan, and the only one bidding who was from a Federation world. He had assumed she would be the one bidder most willing to help Homn obtain a canister to help his boss’s dying friend. But Satra had lost. So, Zahv thought, win some, lose some.

Zahv said, “I must go. Tringeri will be looking for me. You. Good luck.”

            “Thank you, Zahv. If you see Thomas again, please thank him.”

            The Tellarite left. As Satra was slowly waking up, another person entered the room. Dior felt in her pocket for her phaser. She looked at the woman who had entered. It was the genetically engineered human.

            “What do you want?” Dior said to her.

            “I came to see how she’s doing. Sorry I hit her so hard. But it had to look convincing,” the human said.

            Satra, who was now awake, said to the human, “You are a worthy opponent.”

            “You are also very well trained.”

            “Who are you?” Dior asked the stranger.

            “I am Cassandra. I am with Section 31. And I know you two were sent by Starfleet Intelligence.”

            Cassandra went on to explain that Section 31 wanted the Bramok for a clandestine Starfleet research group. She had found out through various means that Starfleet Intelligence would also be there to obtain the Bramok to return it to the Ba’ku. Satra was now feeling the effects of the violent emotion-inducing drug wearing off. She said to Cassandra, “We cannot allow Section 31 to have the Bramok. It must be returned to its rightful owners.”

            “It’s too late,” Cassandra said. “Tringeri has already had it transported to my ship. I’m leaving now. I just wanted to give you two the courtesy of knowing who had taken them. Remember, Section 31 is looking out for the best interests of the Federation. We are on the same side as you.”

            Dior and Satra knew that Section 31 was often amoral in its quests to look out for the “best interests of the Federation.” Satra (T’Avaya), unknown to all but a very few, had actually worked as a covert agent for Section 31. She could never quite get that off her conscience. She never wanted to work for them again.

            As Cassandra turned to leave, Dior and Satra knew the mission was over for them. Section 31 had many resources, and they would not be able to wrestle the Bramok from Cassandra. But Satra did have one more question for her.

            “How,” Satra asked Cassandra, “did a genetically engineered human come to work for Section 31? Humans outlawed genetic engineering centuries ago. Were you created by Section 31?”

            Cassandra explained to them that she was born on Ceti Alpha V almost a century ago, her parents having been stranded there by Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise. When her people had been “rescued” by the USS Reliant, some of them, including herself and her parents, were left on Ceti Alpha V to keep the Reliant’s crew as hostages. Her people’s leader, Khan, would come back for them. As it turned out, Khan and the others on Reliant were killed and the Enterprise had been sent back to Ceti to pick them up, not knowing that any of the genetically engineered humans were still there. Before the Enterprise made it back to the planet, Section 31 intervened. Thirty-one had suspected that some of Khan’s people had been left on the planet, and of course, they were right.

“Myself and the rest of my people were taken in by Thirty-one. They have kept us in hiding all this time. We work for them as scientists, agents, administrators, wherever we see fit.”

“So that’s how Section 31 became so powerful?” Dior said. “They have the super intelligence of augments working for them.”

“Section 31 existed long before my people started working for them,” Cassandra said. “But, yes, we like to think we are part of the reason they have become so powerful and enduring. Good day.”

            Satra said, “Can we ask one more thing? Mr. Homn. the tall blue-skinned mute. Could you please give him one canister to take to his employer to help a dying friend?”

            “Because you are fellow agents, I will do as you ask. Thirty-one will not miss one canister.” And with that, she was gone.

***

            Satra sidled up to the bearded human. He smiled at her and ordered her a drink. Then he placed his chips on the table as the dealer handed him another card. “I see you got my message,” Thomas Riker said to Satra. She was wearing the same red dress she had worn before. It was certainly pleasing to the eyes.

            “Indeed,” she said.

            Her drink arrived. She took a sip. Thomas said, “I wanted to thank you. Both Zahv and Homn were happy for your and Dior’s help in getting the Bramok for Ambassador Troi.”

            “I was pleased I could help them.” Satra assumed Zahv had already told him that she was not able to get any of the Bramok to return it to the Ba’ku. She could only hope that SI would send other agents to try to retrieve the Bramok from Thiry-one.

            As Thomas picked up the chips from his winnings, he said, “I think I’m done here. I’ve had a pretty good night. Know any place private where we can go celebrate?”

            “I do have my own ship. Dior will be…elsewhere tonight.”

            “Excellent,” he said. They walked out of the casino, arm in arm.

 

-by the Honorable Kavura

Thank you for reading my Star Trek Adventures: Captain’s Log mission report. Captain’s Log is a solo role-playing game by Modiphius Entertainment. This adventure is based on the Lower Decks Mission Brief “Eternal Youth” by Michael Dismuke.