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A new directive

Posted on Thu Jun 29th, 2017 @ 1:46am by Trinity Costa

Mission: STATION BLUES
Location: quarters
Timeline: current

ON:

Sitting in her quarters, leaning back into her sofa, Trinity sipped some Pendleton Canadian whiskey, aged 12 yrs. On the rocks all the aromas were not only smelled, but tasted. There were certain small things that gave her joy, and sipping whiskey while alone, and quiet, was one of her vices. A PADD sat next to her on the couch, her expense accounts still up on the screen when it bleeped. Setting her whiskey on the table and leaning forward, elbows on knees, Trin read who it was from. A garbled jumble of numbers was all that was listed. Her attention was riveted momentarily. Accessing the coded entry she sent the reply, piggy-backing the signal within the white noise of outgoing transmissions from 249. "Computer, Code 47, my authorization, these cabins. Initiate."

"Acknowledged," responded the computer. "This is an emergency communiqué. It is not to be discussed with fellow officers unless deemed absolutely necessary. There will be no computer record of said transmission."

In Starfleet signal protocol, a Code 47 was an encrypted communication intended for receipt only by officers holding the rank of captain or higher. Voiceprint authorization by such an officer was required to open the channel, and no computer records of the transmission were maintained. Federation Intelligence could use the Code for themselves, when securing transmissions from internal sensor logs. It was a chance Trinity had to take, whether Strongfellow was informed of it or not, since this was her boss, and handler, for UFP Intel. His face popped up on her screen, and he didn't look happy.

"You okay, boss," Trinity grinning as she asked.

"Not really, no." Said Agent-In-Charge (AIC) Thomas Borelli.

Trinity's smile faded, his tone denoting how serious he was going to be. "Okay, you have my attention. What gives?"

Borelli's eyes hardened as he looked at her through his screen. "Is it my understanding that you have cut off all your investigating into illicit cargos and some damn creature on Oraxa?"

"Yes, Sir." Trinity would not lie to the man, she respected him too much. "I felt I was being ignored by the powers that be, so left it on them to discover what they needed. After 400 years of wandering I think I deser..."

"Stop!" Borelli said this with finality. "You will continue your operations into these events. You will continue to aid Captain Strongfellow and his crew, whether openly or in shadows. Oraxa is in need of protection, and I would rather it be us than the Klingons, or someone else. Do I make myself clear, Agent?"

Trinity's anger flared, but she pushed it down. "Are you asking me to don a uniform again? That could damage a great deal in this area for me."

Borelli rolled his eyes. "Trinity, do what you think is right, but get back on the ball. I know about The Cabal, what you have going on with that whole thing, so we need that to continue. 249 has ships available, but having dozens of freighters as a back-up force is not a bad thing, especially since I know the types of people you hang out with. Ex-soldiers, mercs, you name it. We NEED you, Trinity. Capiche?"

The smile returning, Trinity gave her response. "I'll get it set up again, boss. No worries. I just don't think Marcab will go for me being on his staff without wearing a combadge."

"You've been invited to staff meetings, Trinity." Borelli gave her a knowing look. "That means something. So, make your service to me mean something. Borelli out." He clicked off.

"Computer, cancel the Code 47 as of now." Trinity leaned back again, taking up her whiskey and sipping for a few minutes. After a few minutes she tapped her personal comm. "Zyna, come to my quarters. We need to talk."

OFF:

 

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