Chapter Text
Starbase 8
In orbit of Memory Alpha
JAG Complex
February 7, 2318 (Stardate 139102.35)
"You found nothing?" asked Leo incredulously. Seated behind his desk, he stared up at RJ, who stood a mere foot away from the front edge.
RJ shook his head, then sighed. "I'm so sorry, sir. After checking the backup copies on the secondary and tertiary cores, I could not locate an uncorrupted version of the records you asked for."
"Corrupted? Is that possible?" Leo wondered.
"Starfleet employs several solid tried-and-true data health processes to lower the chances of corruption to almost nil, like regular diagnostics. When those show a problem, the data systems specialists will run optimization and repairs, and when all else fails, there're typically backups to recover from on the other cores."
Leo eyed RJ warily. "You're telling me this, but something in your tone…"
RJ pressed his lips together to express his baffled state of mind. "It's highly unusual to have the original and both backups unrecoverable like this. My instincts are that this was deliberately done, but no evidence points to who, why, or how. Whoever did this was fucking good. Better than me, maybe."
As he rose from his seat to walk around his desk, Leo leaned against the front and asked, "Is there someone else we can bring in on this? A friend of yours that might know how to get the data back?"
"It's not likely," RJ admitted.
"Damn it," Leo spat. He folded his arms across his midsection.
"I'm truly sorry to disappoint you. Tom said how important this was-"
He stopped him from speaking. "RJ, it's fine. They must have been exceptionally thorough if they left no trace."
RJ offered, "I could still reach out and have someone from-"
"I believe you. And I didn't mean to doubt your abilities like that." Leo lowered his eyes as his tone signaled his contrition.
"You know what, sir," RJ said, using the honorific for the first time since meeting Leo, "given what's at stake, it's okay. I wasn't expecting this, either."
Leo stared at his screen with a crestfallen expression. However, he recovered with a forced grin. "Not your fault. And I appreciate you taking the time to look into this for me. If you need anything, RJ…"
Forcing a grin, RJ nodded, "I know, sir. You don't owe me anything, but I'm glad to know you." He stepped forward and offered his hand.
As they shook hands, Leo reminded him, "Whenever you get that team together, you got yourself a full-back."
Corporal Angela Torres sat next to Leo at the round table. Martinez took the seat across in the small pub called "The Delta, Star, and Anchor" on the commercial level of the starbase. The pub owner, a Bolian woman named Tex, served three decades in the Starfleet Marines as a senior non-comm. Because Leo explored the level, one night of animated discussion made them fast friends. Leo shortly became one of the few non-marines welcomed openly, the others being Xaraq, RJ, and everyone's favorite best friend, Tom Maroni.
Torres sat quietly as Leo explained Federov's latest update. She asked, "So… that's it? Are we done? Are they going to get away with it?"
Leo stared at the top of the table. "Unfortunately. I spoke with the captain; she's disappointed as well. But we don't have any other hard evidence to pursue action. So, we'll have to wait for them to commit another violation."
Ale scoffed. "I'm sure they're being cautious now that they've been called to the carpet. And now we're all going to watch our backs because these guys are everywh-" He stopped speaking as someone came up from behind Leo.
Ale splashed over Leo's head, shoulders, chest, and back; the excess pooling on the table's surface. Shortly after, an unapologetic voice said, "Oh, wow, I didn't see you sitting there, sir."
Leo wiped at his face, and Torres got to her feet. She growled at the marine holding the glass without bothering to hide her displeasure. "That's a piss-poor apology for drenching a senior officer, Private."
The private first class, a female human holding the glass, shrugged. "I don't take advice from those who turned their back on the company."
Three additional human male marines rose from their seats at a table across the barroom floor and approached their table. All of them, including the PFC, wore black and grey battle dress uniforms as they enjoyed the bar's atmosphere. Several other marines in attendance glance their way, though a high-ranking fleet officer in uniform drenched in ale was cause for amusement and bemusement.
"It's all right, Corporal," Leo said, standing up and wiping the excess fluid from his chest. He added, just within earshot of the additional marines. "Nothing a quick laundry can't fix." He gestured to the bar. "Hey, Mike? Can I get a fresh ale for the private?"
Mike, the barkeep, shifted his eyes between Leo and the advancing marines. "Yeah, sure," he said, wary of the trouble brewing under his charge. “Sure thing, Leo.”
The presence of more marines, wearing knowing and satisfied grins on their faces, made Leo's tiny hairs stand up on end. His eyes darted between the flanking positions of the marines and realized that they were intentionally provoking a conflict. As their table sat two steps from the bar, Leo reached for the newly poured ale and offered it to the private. "There you go. A fresh pint."
Smirking at the others, the private raised the pint above Leo's head and poured it similarly.
Leo did not move to avoid it, letting the whole pint pour over his forehead, face, and chest. He once again wiped at his face and raised an arm to prevent Torres from participating. "Stay where you are, please," he told her. "Let me handle it."
"But-" she protested.
He interrupted her. "It's just a misunderstanding."
The lead corporal of the group noted, "Oh, sure. A complete misunderstanding, sir."
"Typical candy-assed JAG-off," muttered the private in front of Leo. She asked him, "Couldn't hack it on space duty, sir?"
Leo offered a warm smile. "Apparently not, private. And my patience with you is wearing thin."
She chuckled. "Did you hear that? His patience with us is wearing thin." The other marines joined in their laughter.
"Leo," called Mike. "You okay?"
He did not turn his head to address the bartender. Instead, he raised his voice. "I'm fine, thanks. Just discussing with my new friends here."
A lance corporal to his right snickered, "Oh, we're not your friends. We're here because you need a memorable education regarding your position here."
Leo glanced at the man before focusing on the lead corporal. "What exactly is my position? Tell me."
"You should know better than to mess with marines, especially Captain Kline," informed the lead corporal. "You gambled and lost; now it's time to pay up."
Leo patted his uniform as though looking for his wallet. "I don't carry any money on me, sorry."
The private first class reached out with her left hand and said, "Then we'll take it out of your ass instead."
Torres slapped away the Private's hand, then defensively positioned herself before Leo. Her tall, muscular stature gave the Private pause as she considered her new opponent. "You'll have to get through me first."
Martinez got to his feet, but Leo showed him his palm and gestured he should sit. "Just watch," he ordered.
"Yes, Lieutenant," the lead corporal said menacingly. "Watch us beat the fuck out of this asshole, so you'll know what not to do in the future."
Closing the distance between them, the private swung at Torres while the corporal did the same to Leo.
Torres effortlessly stopped the attack with an arm block, then countered by stepping inside the held arm and elbowing the private in her sternum. Given their difference in height and weight, the more prominent woman used her total body weight to deliver the blow. The force of the hit pushed the private backward until her back hit the edge of the wooden bar.
Leo did nothing. He saw the punch coming and leaned his cheek up to ensure an impact on his orbital bone instead of his eye. He pulled back to minimize damage, but still fell to the deck. With his other eye, he saw an imposing figure standing within view.
"STAND FAST!" barked a loud voice from the entrance to the bar. Everyone looked towards the source of the deep voice.
Gunnery Sergeant Tolliver stood with his hands on his hips. His practiced stare froze the quartet of marines in their tracks, none willing to challenge the senior non-comm. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"
The lead corporal stammered, "Gunny, we weren't doing anything."
"That's not exactly what I saw," Tolliver replied, scowling at the corporal. "Looked to me like four marines asking for brig accommodations to reflect on their poor choices."
The private first class scoffed. "Captain would have us out of there in five minutes, Gunny, and you know it. He's the one who sent us-"
"Shut your mouth, private!" yelled the lead corporal. "The fuck is wrong with you?"
"It's beginning to make sense," Tolliver said. He nodded and then folded his arms. Behind him, Commander Xaraq and six badge-wearing members of the Shore Patrol appeared in view. The Gunny, sensing them, turned around and nodded. "Commander."
"Gunny."
Tolliver chucked a thumb toward the law enforcement detail and ordered, "The four of you, fall in. We'll take a little walk upstairs to have an abrupt conversation with the Shore Patrol." When they hesitated to obey the order, the Gunny lowered his voice to show his anger. "Don't make me repeat myself, marines. Fall in, right the fuck now." He pointed at the empty deck next to him to punctuate his urgency.
Each one settled into a column formation on Tolliver's side, awaiting his next order. None of them cast a glance toward Leo, Ale, or Torres. Xaraq joined Leo as the Gunny led away the offending group.
"You all right?" they asked with a tone of concern.
Leo reached up to his cheek and felt the tenderness there. "I'll live."
They offered a hand up, and under Xaraq's impressive arm strength, Leo got to his feet with ease. "That was stupid."
"Yeah, I guess I should've ducked or something," he admitted sheepishly.
Xaraq tilted his head. "What? No, I meant them. Striking an officer is a guaranteed court-martial."
Martinez stepped forward after getting to his feet. "Commander, I saw the whole thing."
Mike added from the bar, "I did, too."
They nodded. "Thanks. We'll take your statements upstairs as we arrange alternate accommodations for those four." Xaraq shot a smirk at Leo. "I don't trust the holding company to be fair and just about this situation."
The following day, while reading the report from the Shore Patrol, Karen Holiday sighed as she sat inside her private office. She flipped through the pages of the entire report, backward and forward, in a repetitive motion, not bothering to reread it but distracting herself as she considered her options.
The Shore Patrol took the four marines into custody. The witness testimony taken from inside the bar, including the junior non-comm with Verde and the JAG lieutenant who sat at the table watching the affair, along with the bartender and eight other patrons, resulted in a litany of felony charges. Faced with being sent off to a penal colony, the Shore Patrol convinced the four to admit that their company commanding officer, Captain Victor Kline, ordered them to make an example of Commander Verde.
As a result, the Shore Patrol arrested Kline on their testimony, and he and they were now being held together in the Shore Patrol's small holding pen. Commander Xaraq wrote the report and noted that the starbase’s commanding officer received a copy. Notably, Kline chose Captain Reter as his counsel under the circumstances.
It took but thirty seconds for her to land on an appropriate solution.
She opened her desk drawer and reached inside to touch a device secured to the underside of the desk. A small, black communications device appeared as she retrieved it. With a flick of her wrist, the device opened to allow her to access the controls within.
"Eight-Tango-One," she intoned into the audio pickup.
Another feminine voice responded. "Eight-Tango-One acknowledged. Send your traffic."
"Delta-Two advisement: Plan Sierra to be terminated due to critical mission failure. Recommend janitorial deployment three-three-niner."
"Copy. Delta-Two shall be advised."
Karen felt relief at the response. "Nothing further. Clear."
An audible click signified the unnamed person closing their end of the channel. Karen closed the device, replaced it underneath her desk, slid the drawer closed, and locked her fingerprint to her biometric signature.
She accessed the secondary computer core of the Starbase and found the backup folder she created for security. Familiar with Kline’s weaknesses, she felt less confident in his capacity to solve the problem. She duplicated the database they had painstakingly corrupted within the system; a move to prevent JAG and its investigators from using it to confirm Kline’s many violations of due process on their behalf. But the version she accessed contained every bit of the scrubbed data as a failsafe against his stupidity.
The database sat in a secured directory under a specified passcode. Swiftly, she duplicated the entire content onto an optical chip for transit. With a flick of her index finger against the intercom, she said, "Holiday to Chief Federov."
"Federov, here. Hello there, Karen. What can I do for you?"
With a Cheshire smile, she replied, "It's something I can do for you, RJ. Someone told me you were looking for data from the holding records?"
"That's right. You were talking to Xaraq?"
"Something like that," she replied cryptically. "Today is your lucky day."