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Why did I leave the office concludes.

Posted on Mon Jun 13th, 2016 @ 1:23am by Lieutenant Samuel Phelps

Mission: Homecoming (Reborn)
Location: Badlands, Planet.
Timeline: July 2392


ON

[Wondering streets]

Chelsea was not as used to being towed about; she was the field agent, Phelps was some human computer that reads data and spits out probable conclusions. Why did she ask for him again; she put fingers to her lips for a second, he was analyst and could maybe make more sense out of the data. No, he would make more sense out of the data once he could get a look at it.

They had made three turns and two doubling back to aoid being tailed before he ducked into the next motel by where she had been. So close to teh beginning and yet it had merit, once her cover was comprimised she should be getting far away.

[Dive of Motel.]

"Come on Honey." SHe winked at him in front of the clerk. "Wifey is lonely."

"We will be here just for tonight." Phelps said.

"Wife for the night huh?" The clerk blurted out and Phelps tried not to glare.

"You could say that." Phelps agreed and Chelsea squeezed his arm harder. "Come along Love, cannot keep the man from his busy work." Phelps took the key and they made their way to the room.

Once inside the room Phelps adjusted his glasses and began looking all around the room; small at the best description, and left Chelsea standing by the locked door.

"Do you really need those, who wears glasses anymore these days?" Chelsea asked. "Not any Feddie..." Phelps pointed out without looking aaway and these are specialized for me."

"Yes everyone who wears gloasses has a prescription." She said dryly.

"My Grandpappy told me he did not wear glasses because he could not see." Glancing to her for a second as he spoke. "He wore them to see more." Phelps laughed and finished his scan of the room before tossing the glasses to her. "Check out that prescription."

WIth a sigh she put hem on; how bad were his eyes and how the hell did he get into the Intel with ...She had to stop that thought as the dat flow on the glasses were like a heads up display of a fighter, streaming data past the lenses.

"Tricorder is in my pocket and closed, but specially rigged." He extended his hand and she gave him the shades. "Now were you going to ask again about my eyesight?" He winked. "So I can see'more' than meets the eye." He tapped the part that folded the glasses down. "They are handy in a pinch." He said. "Now why am I here?"

"Mind if I use the powder room, girl has to have her secrets." She winked back and entered., coming out only a moment later with a data chip. "Had this handed to me by a former contact; that is how my cover went down the Thomas Crapper." Chelsea handed it to Phelps who put on his 'reading glasses and inserted the chip into his specialized tricorder. "You will see all kinds of jibberish to me."

"Encoded by a language the cipher is not ready to give up yet..." He noticed something and adjusted the Tricorder. "Wait a second, this matches data I had from that first pick up we did and even some other refernces I have found along the analysis trail." He looked to her. "This is a code that is registered in the SFI database but never decoded, I have been working on it for a couple of months myself." He scratched teh back of his head. "Damn hard code but too precise to have been a cryptic code generatedrecently; this one has got to be decades in teh making as none of the real ciphers can break it. Orion, Romulan, cardassian and a half dozen other defectors spilled their guts and this is larger than all combined."

He was still reviewing the data.

"So a super villain code?" Chelsea said with a suspicious tone. "You sure you have not been reading too many of those old espianage books from past centuries?"

"No it iust a code that has been in use a ling time; constantly being updated and changing almost like generations passing along data, it is a growing code that still baffles us." He noted some data he did understand. "Hold it a second..." He brought up some documents he had been analyzing, timetables of sorts. "Here is a shipment of Cobalt raw materials due to arrive at a munitions plant in the Federation." He looked up. "I was given some future shipment manifests to see if I can across any refernces, the dates for these codes amatch shipping times and arrivial of that shipping manifest. It was coded above my Pay Grade but I hacked in a little to get more dqata that is pertinant."

"You mean that is a level four security coding?" Chelsea wished he was working a screen she could look over his shoulder.

"Yes this shipment has left origin." His face paled. "You got exit plans?"

"I am here for deep cover, emergency contingency." She told him.

"Ever hot wire a runabout of small class star ship?" Phelps asked, she shok her head. "Know someone who will work liek a ferengi but maybe more reliable?"

"Harold is always hungry and he says if the credits are in his account he is for hire." Chelsea replied.

"Let's pay him a visit and see if he is available. This junk going to wrong hands could be bad." Phelps told her and grabbed her hand. "Time to go."

"No rest for teh wicked." She sigh.

"You are coming along, cover questionable and you cna tell how you got this."

"Harold has only one spare cabin." Chelsea told him.

"I will be a gentleman." He said entering the corridor.

"Where is the fun in that Sammy?" She asked him as they moved. "It is two days to a relay we can use."

"Just enough time for a good cipher program." Phelps thought of his boot heel holding the Cipher program he uses. "And you can tell me the whole story."

"That your idea of Bedtime stories?" She teased him.

"I prefer to call it the lost art of conversation but redefine if it helps." Chelsea took lead this time.

"Harold will get a kick out of you." She chuckled. "What is our budget?"

"Only have access to three bricks." She nearly tripped with his answer.

"I think we can work with that." Chelsea smiled, she could use some traveling clothes, touching her lips and the tingle still from his touch. "Maybe she might not need any more clothing after all?

OFF

Lt JG Samuel Phelps
Chief Intel Officer

Chelsea
Agent Girl
NPC Phelps.



 

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