PART III

The conference on integrating the Bajoran Militia forces into Starfleet had, thus far, not been a pleasant experience. After only three days, they'd brought in even more efficiency experts to explain why the Bajoran proposal was acceptable to all.

Here it was, several days later (Rojc could feel his grasp of time slipping away) as he sat listening to yet another efficiency report, the speaker even more monotone and unconvincing than the last. If not for the bio-chemical alterations that all but eliminated his need for sleep, Rojc would have dozed off. He wondered vainly what he had done and who he'd upset to deserve this irritating duty.

"...And as you can see, Commander, overall the efficiency rating has a mean of--"

"Repeating the same statistics over and over does not make them any more correct," interrupted Rojc with a hint of irritation evident in his voice. It was the first time he'd spoken so callously--not that he'd actually spoken all that much during the span of the conference otherwise. "These statistics are all well and good, but the fact is these figures include the officers who have significant duty time on Deep Space Nine."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" demanded Minister Lenaris Holem defensively.

"I think," began Colonel Kira Nerys, commander of DS9, "that what Commander Rojc is trying to stress is that the officers with significant tours of duty onboard the station are therefore more familiar with Starfleet protocols and have greater experience with space duty."

Rojc smiled, acknowledging Kira's reply. She was almost always on the same line of thought. "Yes, that's indeed what I was trying to say." He took a sip from the water glass in front of him. "I mean no offense, of course, but serving on a thirty year-old impulse raider, or pulling duty on Bajor is a lot different than serving on a Federation starship. The closest conditions where this kind of experience has been simulated is here on DS9."

"But--" Lenaris started.

"Minister, I am not oblivious to the facts and figures you have tried so diligently to present to me." Rojc gestured at the efficiency experts. "But to be frank, and blunt, the proposal your government has submitted for integration is--at best--ridiculous."

All the Bajorans in the room collectively blinked at Rojc in surprise.

"I don't know who you think you are, but I assure you--" Lenaris blubbered defensively.

"He's Commander Dade Rojc," interrupted Kira. "Veteran of the former Angosian super soldier corps. He has first hand experience in these matters." Kira too, had been getting sick of the endless bureaucracy, as was evident by the irritation now creeping into her voice.

Rojc acknowledged Kira's contribution once again with a nod. "Colonel Kira is correct; I preceded at the meetings between Starfleet and the Angosians when it came to our entry into the Federation. It was under my recommendations that I thought all of our people, regardless of rank, or bio-chemical enhancement should have to go through Starfleet Academy for full term, before allowing them into Starfleet."

Minister Lenaris tugged at his collar. "Surely you're not suggesting..." He trailed off.

"No," replied Rojc with certainty. "I am sufficiently more impressed by the skills of the Bajoran Militia than I was of my people all those years ago. Honestly, there are a great deal of officers who make excellent candidates for the Starfleet Intelligence Corps, but when it comes to Starfleet proper, there are many things to take into account." Rojc paused and handed a PADD across the table to Minister Lenaris and Colonel Kira. "The proposal on this PADD is my own findings on the matter. In summary, the Bajoran Militia is not readily experienced enough in starship operations or experiences in day-to-day life aboard a starship. Your desire to have your Generals and Colonels transferred to the rank of Captain is simply not a possibility."

"Now wait just a minute!" Lenaris was livid.

Rojc continued as if Lenaris hadn't spoken. "Most of your officers at this rank do indeed have enough command experience for captaincy, but most are also woefully unfamiliar with Starfleet technology, protocols, and tactics. I'm not arguing your officers can't learn quickly, but a captaincy, meaning a command, is not a good place for these men and women to learn these skills."

"I totally disagree--"

"A--a--actually, Minister," began one of the other Bajorans, "I must concur with Commander Rojc's opinions in this matter. He raises good points."

"But a rank of Commander...?" Lenaris spat out. "By which...I mean no disrespect, Commander Rojc," he added with only a slightly less harsh tone.

"I am--at the most--prepared to recommend that each General and Colonel be evaluated on an individual basis, but I simply cannot recommend granting them all captaincy," replied Rojc coolly. "In first officer postings, they would have sufficient opportunity and time to learn. After a year--six months, even--some could be ready for promotion."

Minister Lenaris regarded Rojc, then Colonel Kira, and finally his team of experts for a long moment before he made any response. "It would appear...you have given us insights into which we must look into further," said Lenaris finally. "If we could reconvene discussions until tomorrow, perhaps after we have taken time to study your...proposal...?"

"Agreed," said Rojc quickly...perhaps a little too quickly.

"Commander." Lenaris stood and nodded to Rojc before leaving the Wardroom, his experts in tow.

"Where did that come from?" asked Kira, holding back the laughter. "Don't tell me you actually did some independent work on this?"

Rojc grinned. "I couldn't stand it any longer, Nerys. The experts were driving me up the bulkheads."

Kira finally laughed. "Thank you."

Kira and Rojc both stood and walked to the exit of the Ward Room. "Minister Lenaris had hoped to 'dazzle' the Starfleet representative into recommending his proposal," Kira added.

"Bore me into recommending it, you mean," returned Rojc light-heartedly. They stepped into the corridor and started towards the Promenade.

"You haven't changed a bit." Kira shook her head. "So was it Lenaris who finally decided I should be included in the 'conference', or was this your idea of something for my benefit?"

Rojc put up his hands and shook his head, "Oh, it was all his idea. Probably more attempt to dazzle on his part."

Kira stifled more laughter. "Your visits are always so pleasant, Dade. So besides the conference, how much trouble have you gotten yourself into since you've been here?"

"Trouble?" asked Rojc, feigning indignation, "Is that any way to address an Envoy of the Federation?"

"Temporary Envoy," Kira stressed.

"Thank the Great Bird for that," replied Rojc with a laugh. "To Quark's then?"

Nicot had been on Cardassia Prime for nearly a week, working surveillance. Things had changed here--the entire planet had the feel of death hanging over it; dust clouds were prevalent any time of the day, and it was exceedingly hot and dry (even by Cardassian standards). The conditions of the planet were mirrored in the survivors of the tragedy--moving about vainly from ruin to ruin looking for survivors to rescue...or bodies to bury.

And for a planet once considered the most dangerous for an operative to be assigned to, security was now painfully lacking. Nicot didn't just surmise this from his completely unnoticed landing and reconnaissance, but from numerous pirate forces conducting raids, the re-emergence of Cardassian religion into the open, and the unending political rallies held by citizens. None of these things would have taken place if the Obsidian Order were still around.

The Cardassians, for their part, were doing their best here, considering they had insisted they would rebuild this planet and system themselves. Still, there was a long way for them to go, even with the aid the Federation insisted on giving over the objections of the Cardassians.

Nicot had spent the first full day and night reconnoitering as much of the Capital as he could obtain access to. He'd paid special attention to the immediate area around the building housing the vote count headquarters and after another day and night, Nicot's safe house and monitoring systems were operational. At only two blocks away from the center, it was the ideal location as it lie outside the security grid and was yet close enough to get to the building quickly.

Every day since had consisted of more reconnaissance. Nicot now spent most of his time walking the streets; listening to a conversation; following suspicious individuals; scanning for concealed weapon caches; mapping out figures for defenses and the overall threat ratings of the city--anything that could be of interest to Section 31; Nicot intended to impress them with the thoroughness of his report after his assignment was successfully completed.

During night, Nicot retreated to the safe house. With gangs of thugs moving intermittently through the streets, acting with impunity, he preferred to keep his safety intact. No sense in him dying in a random street crime and winding up skinned for a purse. That was something that always caused him to shiver: Cardassian women actually paid good money for purses made from Bolian skin. He'd almost voiced his concerns to Cannis--almost.

But it wasn't as if Nicot couldn't accomplish many further activities from within the hideout--interfacing with his shuttle and conducting planetary scans; viewing the data recorded by the monitoring systems; acquainting himself with the Cardassian data networks.

Five days had passed. The election was held earlier that day--of which everything seemed to be going smoothly with only one riot. Now it was nighttime and Nicot was on edge waiting for the move to be made against the building. All the votes were in, it was only a matter of computing the final results and filtering out the statistically chosen votes--all of which was supposed to take the volunteers far into the early morning of the next day.

There was an incredible nervousness in Nicot. For all the bravado he had, for all the self-assurance of his abilities, Nicot still didn't feel completely steady. He didn't know what was going to happen, and that uncertainty of what he might have to do to accomplish this mission was undermining his overall self-confidence.

The wait was not a long one--before Nicot had a chance to settle with his uncertainties--the move against the vote count headquarters was made. Nine Cardassians armed to the teeth had penetrated the security perimeter. Nicot strapped a stolen Cardassian disruptor rifle around his shoulder and abandoned the safe house with all haste.

It wasn't long before Nicot had penetrated the building's security grid for himself and taken up a position to deal with the terrorists. By the time he was in place, he'd already decided how to take out the would-be saboteurs without alerting the rest of the security grid: photon grenades.

The nine Cardassians walked up to the isolated, back entrance of the building and promptly set to work cracking the door's security. Had Nicot not arrived first, the terrorists would have cracked the encryption without any effort; nary long enough to keep them stationary and distracted. Nicot rolled three grenades towards the group of Cardassians from his hiding place and detonated them before they could react. They all went down.

Nicot was in the middle of mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done when his tricorder emitted a proximity alarm. He flipped open the device and read the data now displayed--weapons fire from within the headquarters. Nicot cursed under his breath. He had missed another terrorist team entering.

Captain Knight sat alone in one of the few bars on Starbase 7, the unofficial operations headquarters of the Starfleet Intelligence Corps. The "real" HQ was back on Earth; a foreboding, ten-story, black building that stood only a few kilometers from Starfleet's headquarters. A great location for security, record storage, and analysts, but Sector 001 was just not the place to launch covert operations.

No longer an SIC officer, Knight's security clearance onboard the station was only temporary; despite the fact that Starbase 7 was one of the largest stations in Federation space, it imposed drastic security measures to keep itself secure. Despite the monolithic size of the station, it was manned only by SIC officers. A move implemented, remarkably enough, because of the actions of a certain Angosian officer during the Dominion War.

Knight had arrived on the station only early this afternoon, straight off of the Phantom after she'd docked at Antares FleetYards. It was something of an unexpected refit; when the Phantom had been built, she had been outfitted with a temporary Bridge module due to the urgency of the Dominion War. Now that the War was over and resources weren't spread as thin, Admiral T'Lara had decided it was time for the Phantom to receive the Bridge that had been intended for the class design. Various other minor upgrades would also be completed, seeing as the ship was in dry dock anyways.

They were unanticipated orders, to say the least. But Knight was more than happy to take advantage of the "free" shore leave granted to him because of those orders. He'd pushed the Phantom to keeping a constant speed of warp 9.9975 to get her to the shipyards from Deep Space Nine as quickly as possible. They'd arrived nearly a week early; the extra leave would afford Knight the time to set into motion his plans to return to active SIC duty.

There'd been little else on his mind since the reoccurrence of his nightmare. The same reason Knight had lost his SIC commission was now the same reason he now fought to regain that commission: the Maquis. It would only be under SIC jurisdiction that he'd be able to track down those responsible for the massacre of the Maquis and make them pay.

Knight took a sip of his drink and checked the timepiece on the far wall of the bar; it was 2147 hours. He frowned. It was unlike Saria Kintain to be late. "Computer, locate Captain Saria Kintain."

"Captain Saria Kintain is not aboard the station."

"What?" demanded Knight in half-surprise. "When did she leave?"

"Captain Saria Kintain is not aboard the station. Further details unavailable to temporary security access Knight, Xanthus ."

Knight scowled. Saria hadn't said anything about leaving--though the last time they had talked was nearly two weeks ago. "Computer, are there any messages for me from Captain Kintain?"

"Negative."

Knight knew Saria Kintain from years ago; they'd served together on the USS Monitor. Since then they'd always kept close ties--even when Knight was with the Maquis, the two of them had corresponded on more than one occasion. Now Kintain was a fairly influential officer in the SIC, and her aid in his plans could be helpful. Besides that, he needed feedback on his ideas.

Rojc he didn't trust enough, same with Nicot; Admiral Bates would be too busy. And Melina, well even if she was around, it might be a little too over her head. She'd received some sort of priority-one communiqué, and left the Phantom as soon as it'd docked at Antares. There hadn't even been time for a goodbye.

He couldn't help but let his thoughts dwell on Melina. After months and months of procrastinating, of second-guessing himself, he'd finally been able to work up the courage to ask her out on a real date. Knight was a little more than surprised that she'd been so enthusiastic, but pleased nonetheless. Though he was twenty years her senior, Knight couldn't help but feel some sort of...connection to the young Andorian female. Was it love? After all this time, could he actually be allowing himself to get close to someone again?

Knight forced his thoughts away from Melina; as much as he felt a certain...longing to be in her presence, such thoughts only served to distract him from his goals. Between the return of his nightmare and the growing inner turmoil he felt about his new relationship with Melina, he had to focus.

He'd already set up his appointment with Starfleet Command and Council Member Terrance Channing, the head of the Intelligence Oversight Committee; it was too late to cancel and reschedule for a more "opportune" time. Besides, the sooner he made this work, the better.

Knight finished nursing his drink and stood up to leave, having already settled his tab. He might as well call it a night, so he could get an early start tomorrow. All that remained before his meeting was to discuss some final points with the Andorian Ambassador Tripsa El'kood, the man who would no doubt prove to be his biggest supporter of his case.

"...I can see T'Senishra and I are going to have to have a long talk." Rojc followed up with a perceptive look over the comm-link.

"I know what you're thinking," Melina said at once, "And there's no cause for concern. I'm no more happy to tell you this than you are to hear it."

Rojc was silent for a moment. "All right. You're sure there's nothing else?"

"Everything else is fine, Dade. I'm just back home for a few days to take care of some family business."

"I understand," Rojc replied with a nod. He immediately attributed the extra stress he sensed to her deceased brother. "Thank you for looking out for me as usual." He added a brief smile.

"So, I'll see you when you get back to Phantom then." With that, the comm-link between Dade Rojc and Melina Iv'Oor closed.

Rojc leaned back in the chair where he sat, his thoughts weighing heavily on what Melina had just told him. After all this time, T'Senishra still couldn't, or perhaps wouldn't, let herself understand his feelings for her. Before he could have a chance to reflect further, the chime to his quarters sounded.

"Enter," called Rojc with mild annoyance. He wasn't expecting anyone at this time of night. Still, whomever it was would certainly prove to distract these thoughts; shift his attentions.

The door opened, revealing the mysterious guest to be none other than the Phantom's Bajoran doctor. She hesitated a moment before warily stepping through the door, allowing it to close. One glance at Arona was all Rojc needed to know that something was indeed troubling her, and she wasn't too happy about coming to him with it. "Rojc, I need your help."

"Yes, and what a lovely evening isn't it? Hello to you to, Arona," Rojc returned coolly. His tolerance for the Doctor's attitude towards him had slowly been diminishing over the months on board the Phantom. Arona's clear disgust for the SIC often resulted in a less than cordial attitude that would lead to certain...differences of opinion. Their collaborative efforts were few and far between.

Arona almost turned and dashed out of Rojc's quarters. "Please," began Arona in a manner that clearly indicated it was more of a demand, "I need your help."

"I'm listening." Rojc gestured to the seat across from him.

Arona stopped and stared at the chair for a moment, before she walked to it and sat down. An awkward silence hung between the two officers. "Look, I know you and I don't often agree on...methodology, but I really need your help."

"And what could possibly be so important that you'd need my help?" queried Rojc. "Wasn't it just two weeks ago you declared me a, 'tool of the unjust used to lower the morality of the Federation to their level'?"

"Jaden is missing, Dade," she declared with a flat certainty--Arona was at the brink of tears. She blinked away the tears as best she could and looked Rojc in the eye. "No one seems to know where he is. Bajoran Militia Command is unresponsive to my inquiries."

Rojc thought for a moment before responding. He considered dismissing her obvious concerns, but he had to admit, he did owe Arona for the several times she'd saved his hide in the past. "How long has he been gone?" he finally asked

"Two weeks, approximately," replied Arona. "No one is really sure."

"And...?"

Arona sighed. It was obviously difficult for her, coming to someone who represented something she was morally opposed to for whatever reason. After a moment longer, she continued, "Supposedly Jaden got some last minute tip-off on a suspected Pah-Wraith terrorist cell. He shipped out with his troops the same night, and no one's heard anything from him since." She paused to regain her composure; Arona refused to let Rojc see her cry. "This is totally unlike him."

"Do you know where he went?"

"Bryma IV. Near the old DMZ," Arona replied.

"And you've already talked with Militia Command?"

The anger flared in her voice, "I guess you could call it that." She closed her eyes and shook her head, as if trying to clear away the emotion. "First they said he was out on assignment at Bryma IV. When I attempted to speak to his base again, they routed me through to Militia Command, which couldn't discuss any details with me because I wasn't family." All the while she spoke, her voice rose sharply. "My latest effort to find out what the hell was going on got me a sympathetic lieutenant who knew absolutely nothing useful."

Rojc was about to speak, but Arona promptly cut him off, figuring on the question he would pose. "The lieutenant was, however, able to tell me he'd seen a report a week old that listed Li and his entire unit as MIA. There hasn't been any further data on Li, his unit, or his mission since. His clearance level didn't allow him any access to Li's personnel files either. Something is going on here, Rojc."

He had to admit it sounded a little bit suspicious; Arona wouldn't be here discussing this with him if she weren't sure. It was a strange sensation, but oddly enough it was sufficient reasoning for Rojc's concern as well. Maybe he and Arona didn't get along that well, but at least this would be something more interesting than the damn conference that'd leeched away the last week and a half of Rojc's life.

"I'll do some checking around. I'll let you know," Rojc finally announced.

Arona took a good long look at Rojc to gauge whether or not he believed her concerns were valid. "You're not going to Bryma IV without me," she declared after a moment.

Rojc realized his mistake; Arona had caught him off guard. "I'm not going--"

"Yes, you are," interrupted Arona. "For someone who prides himself on being nondescript, your eyes speak volumes about what you're planning."

Rojc shook his head irately. "I have other channels to exhaust before I get to that point, Arona." He wasn't really irritated with Arona, more with himself for letting his plans slip. Rojc hadn't expected Arona to be so good at reading him. It took a sharp eye, even when he wasn't at his most detached state, to be able to correctly guess his thoughts. "I'll see what I can get done tonight yet."

Arona shrugged. "The sooner we leave, the better."