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The Rising Tide

Posted on Tue Jun 7th, 2016 @ 6:08am by

Mission: Divided and Conquered
Location: NFO Headquarters
Timeline: February 2392

ON

M’Gann sat in one of the offices at Starfleet Headquarters, four “escorts” behind her. Prior to her arrival in the pristine office, she was doing research on where she was and what happened to the Gladiator, and she had been caught. She would’ve gone with them peacefully if they hadn’t started destroying her research and barking orders like they owned the place. Eventually they had to pin her down and cuff her before dragging her all the way to the office. So now she sat, two pairs of hands on her shoulders to keep her in place, as she glared at the back of the chair in front of her.

“According to our records,” the voice finally began. The chair swiveled around to show a stout little man. He had a full beard and a wisp of light brown hair on top of his head, starting at a receded hairline and traveling to one side or the other, depending on which side of the part it was on. What almost made M’Gann laugh was that his feet could barely touch the ground, and he used a remote to turn the chair. He looked at her with beady little eyes, “... you don’t exist. So who are you? Are you a spy?”

M’Gann merely rolled her eyes, remaining silent.

The man frowned, clearly not satisfied with the answer, or lack thereof. “Can you at least tell me who you are? I want to know how to properly introduce my guest to the Great Leader.”

This time the blonde snorted. “Guest?? I didn’t know that these-” she raised her cuffed hands, “-meant that I was a guest.”

He sighed, looking at her for a moment before nodding to the guards holding her. A moment later the cuffs were off her wrists, and with a flick of the hand the guards left to wait outside the office. “There. I am giving you the benefit of the doubt, but if you betray my trust then I will call them back in.”

M’Gann thought back to try and remember what some of her crew would do in a situation like this. “I could probably severe your vocal cords before you could even utter a word,” she replied, trying to mimic Mercia.

The man laughed, his belly bouncing with his shoulders. “You’re too docile to do such a thing, my dear. Besides, if I had the slightest doubt that you would try to attack me I would have left you in those cuffs. Might I point out, you’re also unarmed, and anything sharp enough to injure has been removed from the room.” He leaned forward, making him look like a potato that was about to roll out of the chair. “Now, name please?”

M’Gann narrowed her eyes at the man when she said she was docile, and crossed her arms in silent protest.

“Would it help if I introduced myself first?” The man then placed a hand on his chest, gesturing to himself. “I am Nathaniel Tyson, right hand assistant of the Great Leader. I helped COIL form this new empire from the ashes of Starfleet, called the New Federation Order.” He then gestured to the blonde.

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “So you’re a secretary then. Or does ‘right hand assistant’ mean that you are this so called Great Leader’s personal biatch?”

Nathaniel set his jaw as he listened to the woman’s lack of compliance. “Personally,” he replied, “right hand assistant looks better on a resume. Now, I am giving you one last chance to tell me your name before I use more forceful methods. Or would you like me to start by getting rid of this?” He held up a tablet, showing her a live feed of Miko, who was in what looked like a dog crate.

M’Gann’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the tablet before narrowing her eyes. “I swear to Rassilon, if you hurt him-!”

“Name.”

M’Gann let her sentence fade away before crossing her arms and leaning back into her chair. “M’Gann,” she replied.

“Full name, please,” he stated. He then gave a small smile and added, “and title.”

She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. “Lieutenant Commander M’Gann Sverch’tel, Chief Science Officer of the USS Gladiator, NCC 79818-C.”

“See, this is where I don’t believe you,” Nathaniel responded. Grabbing another tablet, he pulled up the roster of the Gladiator before handing it to her. “The Chief of Science of the late USS Gladiator was Megan Letchers, a human aged 34, who had valiantly volunteered to take command of the saucer section to lead part of the crew to safety. At least, that was the goal, until my ship decloaked.”

M’Gann took the tablet and looked at the image of the officer, noting some striking resemblance. The hair, for instance, was the same strawberry blonde and had the same wave. Her eyes were the same hazel. Even the same nose. It must’ve been a trait from her father. She then scanned through the rest of the bio, trying to find any evidence that it had been tampered with. Mary was her sister… and she had a brother named David, but he had died in an accident when he was young. It all looked authentic, but at the same time it looked so wrong. She was the chief of science, not this woman. She was the one who had volunteered.

Nathaniel watched her inspect the bio before asking, “Now, please give me your true title.”

M’Gann looked up at the round man before chucking the tablet at his head, satisfied when it made a solid thunk before jumping to her feet and storming towards the man. It was surprisingly easy to grab his collar and hoist him up until his feet were swinging in the air.

Tyson cried out when the hard plastic tablet hit his forehead, and a moment later felt himself rise out of his seat. He grabbed onto the blonde’s wrists and held on so if he dropped her then maybe he could catch himself. He let out a loud whistle, and a moment later the guards re-entered the room. Two of them immediately went to Nathaniel and pulled him away from the blonde while the other two fought to pin her down.

M’Gann struggled as much as she could, but eventually found herself getting a faceful of carpet, her arms painfully locked behind her and her legs crossed at the ankles and being held down by the other guard. “Let me go!” she grunted, squirming against them pointlessly.

Nathaniel straightened his jacket before kneeling down to her level. “That was a mistake, my dear. You could’ve gotten off easier if you had just told the truth.”

“I did, you fat lard,” she snarled in reply.

The man shook his head and stood, pausing for a moment before turning to the guards. “Make sure she gets disciplined for her behavior,” he growled, tenderly touching his forehead.

Mal, one of the guards holding her down, gave a small nod to his superior. “With pleasure.”

As the guards hoisted her up and took her away, Nathaniel moved to the replicator in the office and asked for a bag of ice. Once it materialized he took the cold bag and pressed it to his forehead. That blue alien had a good throw.

OFF

 

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