Free Range: On Reflection
Posted on 21 Dec 2022 @ 12:17pm by Commander Calliope Zahn
Edited on on 06 Feb 2024 @ 8:16pm
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Freecloud, Stardust City, Cocoa Dust Cafe
Timeline: Backpost, a few weeks ago
3277 words - 6.6 OF Standard Post Measure
.:[Cocoa Dust Cafe, Stardust City, Freecloud, several weeks ago]:.
The pre-dawn hue, a blushing promise of a marginally warmer sky, was rising over the choppy bay waters, the bay dotted with frozen floes of ice, bobbing gently here and there. Calliope witnessed the creeping gradient through the picture window of the Cocoa Dust Cafe, a busy little spot built into a pier outside of Stardust city. Inside the cafe was populated with a cross section of the diaspora of Stardust city, taking up the table seating or the standing computer terminals with their favorite drinks or pastries in hand. It was early, which meant that the current clientele were a mix of the late night party crowd passed out over their fry baskets, and the early bird students and business people taking up the privacy screen terminals for their call in meetings and classes. Calliope enjoyed one such booth along the bay view picture window, her gaze tracing the far off dots of ships in and above the water as the morning traffic seemed to lazily float along, a trick of perception as they were no doubt making their own speedy bee lines. She admitted to herself that the whole trick of even being in the cafe on the planet of Freecloud was one of perception, since she only imagined she was watching. The light of the scene itself was not playing on her own eyeballs, after all. In the wee hours following the successful heist she was still running a holographic extension of herself.
Soon she would return the generator holding up the core of the interactive holographic image and hopefully regain her deposit for the technology, only being out the sizable fee. The money was no matter. The returns were confirmed in everyone’s accounts and she’d made up for all her costs. As planned, Margot, her young computer wizard friend, had appropriately shunted the pre-agreed upon splits of the funds into the accounts of the rangers who had pulled off the actual heist. Calliope was left waiting for the final data transfer, her monitor on the holodeck imaging a spinning circle on repeat as she cusped a warm hot tea she could only enjoy the aroma of.
Calliope had seen very little of the follow through after briefing each one on his or her part in the operation. It had been too much of a risk to be identified as her actual person— who needed to get onto the security cameras of criminal money laundering operation with their actual identity and paint a target on themselves and everyone they loved when someone went back and checked the tapes? The other members of the op who presented themselves to the Ferrengi banker were all a little less on the radar, already operating with low profiles, going by a variety of false identities, and difficult to find. But Calliope was a very findable figure. So, having the advantage of being a projected hologram with bio feedback faking for passive life scans, she had settled on passing for a much older Bajoran heiress, Dame Fiandra. It was a little disconcerting when she caught sight of herself in a mirror, but she enjoyed the space that being a dignified old lady mostly afforded her.
She had stood by as she watched a familiar tall, broad shouldered man thread along the side of the boat, a warm fleece pulled up over his lower face and a knit cap pulled down over his ears. The overall resemblance was perfect for the man he was replacing on the security team.
Calliope had arranged a somewhat middle grade school trick on the original security hire,finding out his regular lunch haunt and then telling a sob story fib to a deli counter server about how he’d crossed her and used her and, having gained the server’s sympathy, the lady spiked his lunch hoagie with a little something extra special in the sauce. He’d called out sick to his team lead with what he thought was a stomach bug, but what he didn’t know was Margot had routed his call to Calliope who answered through a voice modulator impersonating the team lead, one very gruff ex-military Andorian with a scar through his left eye. Luckily they didn’t have to employ the visual deep fake they’d prepared, since the man with the laxative induced runs was only phoning in by voice from what sounded like a tiled washroom. It had been really difficult for Calliope and Margot to retain their laughter for after they’d hung up the call. Calliope practically couldn’t breathe by the end and she and Margot had shared a high five over the juvenile hijinks.
With his similar match in body type, Gregnol signed in to the security detail under the sick man’s name, Carlos Lamont, with no one the wiser. Both were men of few words and that, as well as Reuben Gregnol’s own experience in starfleet security and intel, served him well as the hired guns went about their business preparing the yacht and managing the arriving guests.
With their inside man in place, from the rail of the yacht’s upper deck Calliope had looked on as the next step of the plan unfolded. The two severe-looking rangers were posing as banking clients for a Tal Shiar element. The Reman called Krynn was carrying the case with the banking chips. The Romulan woman, Kaylin, gave the financier’s inspectors some guff, and Calliope had been worried at the time that her objections would end the entire operation right there and then. But the resistance seemed par for the course, and Kaylin’s instincts were good. She had to rebuff and be rebuffed, or else it would smell like a sting. Finally, seemingly begrudgingly, Kaylin submitted to being patted down— Gregnol getting the honor. Calliope was sure even from her distance that Kaylin was going to make him forever uncomfortable about it. The pat down was plenty productive, with disrupters on both of their persons and blades besides coming up in the search. Everything was withheld with the coat claims, of course. But that was as Kaylin had said. It wouldn’t have been convincing if they’d arrived unarmed. This whole op was about selling the security team the bait, so Calliope breathed easier witnessing the gullibility at play.
Kaylin and Krynn were the last to board, in any event, and the ship pushed off from the pier, making its way down the channel and toward the open bay, the view of Stardust city sprawling wider along the horizon behind the SS Opportunity.
Calliope had watched as the lot of them were escorted to the VIP cabins and disappeared from view through a hatch on one of the decks below. They would tell their story to the quick witted Ferengi financier, Grott, and convince him they were Tal Shiar shadow financiers, looking to move their funds though a shell company and to their Romulan faction of choice. The Ferengi was no doubt helping all of the factions that came to him. Grott was known for being apolitical. The only party he was supportive of was his own self. Even this yacht party was a front for his influence and cover stories. The financier himself was not even going to show his face. Grott wasn’t a socialite, or a drunk, or a gambler or a womanizer. In planning the op with Theo, they had considered all those angles. But all of their preliminary research told them one thing— this guy was single minded. The only thing Grott was going to take a shine to was his cut of a transaction. It was the one way past his vault’s defenses— to stage a business transaction and get something inside the transmission-free physical vault itself.
She had been fairly certain about one of every ten of the people aboard were going to prove to be shady people in their own right, the other nine tenths either their entourages or naive associates. The sensor feed from her hologram had to remain in passive mode so as not to set off everyone else who passed her by, but the visual information had been enough to compile the recreated scene on the holosuite she was actually in back on Obsidian Command, where Lt Theodore Winslow was running all the faces and snatches of conversations the holodeck could capture. Walking around in her view on the holodeck, while invisible to the guests, servers, and security staff, Theo had encouraged her to take a turn around the deck and let more of the imaging compile for his investigative records. Calliope obliged, but she knew what they were gleaning was the tip of the iceberg. The real paydirt was going to be on the physical drives inside the underwater vault, beneath the icy bay.
She had pulled her coat around her, reminding herself to act cold in spite of the computer mitigating the worst of the cold in the replicated scene. A couple spry older gentlemen introduced themselves to her and made some small talk, but ultimately she’d been snagged by a group of older wives with plenty of juicy gossip to dish, their tongues loosened by bottles of wine valuable enough to trade for a personal shuttle craft. Calliope accepted a glass, but didn’t imbibe. The hologram wasn’t designed to handle actual molecular input the way holodeck replication could. She’d dribble from somewhere. She put it to her lips once or twice to see if the holodeck would make a fair replica of the flavor, and it delivered some incredible aroma, which she appreciated. The detail of sensors and holodecks now. It was a wonder.
“Madame, you haven’t touched your Cabernet!” One of them observed between her tale telling.
“I gave it a taste.” Calliope said, her nose upturned as she set it down on the table with a fluidly dismissive gesture. A motion she copied from her mother in law. “It doesn't hold a candle to spring wine. I prefer the company far better than the food and drink. Let my money go to the cause, not these over-hyped vinegars.”
One of the women reached across the table and took the rejected vintage, tipping the stemware up and pouring it into her own glass.
“Careful Amelia. You need to outlive Morris, after all.”
“More antioxidants.” Amelia retorted. “Besides, that old bastard’s never going to die with all of the organ replacements he can buy now.”
They all tittered like school girls, Calliope as Dame Fiandra included.
The sun was visible over the horizon from the Cocoa Dust Cafe now, Calliope still reflecting on the evening prior and the friends she’d made. She smiled, thinking about how she might call on them… would she start over in her actual identity as Calliope, or try to continue the ruse as Fiandra? Meanwhile as she’d been making friends, her team had been executing the plan.
They’d presented the very real credit chips to Grott, the financier. He would have authenticated a sampling of them in his office of course, then talked about his transaction percentages. When they’d negotiated and confirmed the deal, the real brief case of money would be handed to the security team. Calliope assumed it had all taken place as designed once she’d seen Krynn and Kaylin join Indigo on the party deck and engage with some of the gambling tables. It was a charity event so the pay to play fees were ostensibly going to a good cause. Calliope didn’t doubt it. They all needed to present a soft public face, after all.
Meanwhile Calliope watched the aft of the boat, where the smaller speed boats were moored to the sides. By design, there were two nestled into either side of the impressive yacht, four in total. Gregnol would be outnumbered, but she had little doubt in his skills. Indigo had certainly delivered when Calliope had outlined who they would need for most of the heavy lifting on this gig.
He kept his turtleneck up and his hat down, long enough to pass for Carlos Lamont, the guy who was passing his bowels clean back on shore. The Andorian’s security team would be trusted to look after the case and to get it to the boss’ vault safely. But as soon as he had the opportunity, Gregnol was meant to take off with the case entrusted to the team’s watch, letting the hirelings think their compatriot was turning on them and making off with the money. Indigo had promised Calliope she would have the actual poor fool picked up by the watchdogs and taken in for his safety later that evening. They’d offer Carlos Lamont a new identity, since Gregnol would be staging his death scene, as best he could. Carlos couldn’t turn up again around here. What was important now would be making sure the simple minded Andorian team lead didn’t look any further than the idea of a betrayal on his team.
“Oh, dear, what’s that all about?” One of the ladies had pointed over the aft of the ship as a speed boat cut through the loose ice in the bay, headed towards the nearest canal system.
“There’s another! And another!” Several people in the party were pointing out the boat chase.
The Andorian with the scared left eye was livid and barely contained his anger as he convinced the band to start up a new musical number and announce a raffle winner, pulling the attention from the speedboats launching. Wandering away from her table of old biddies, as if she were lost looking for the washroom, Calliope angled close enough to hear him as he took the steps up to the next deck, two at a time. He was shouting into his ear piece “I don’t care what you have to do! Get that case back and terminate Carlos’ employment— permanently! Put him on ice. No! The last thing we need is for the Boss to find out we have a turncoat on the team. We’ll all be hung up tomorrow! Just get that case back and take it straight to the vault. None of this ever happened.”
Perfect. Beyond perfect. It was all going as planned. Theo had made sure the timing and the known individual personalities would all lead to the desired reactions, guiding their marks along through each stage of the op. And it was working. Gregnol had armored up appropriately, and was leading the chase through the canals now. He’d end up in the sparsely populated warehousing district and under one of the overpasses, he’d cross paths with Margot and switch out the real chips for the trojan programmed lookalikes she needed to get inside of the vault for the hack. With the fakes in hand, he’d let his tail catch up to him, and foot it through an abandoned side of town that had been gated off and secured ahead of time to be sure there would be no unintentional loss of life and Gregnol would let them shoot him off of a pier, his armor and helmet soaking the shots while he dropped the trojan case as he staged his death into the icy water. Using a scan resistant shield they’d set up ahead of time, he’d swim behind cover and with the aid of a rebreather, remain there for as long as he could stand the icy water, with his lifesigns masked. The Andorian’s team would report back that they’d iced Carlos and they would take the case to the vault, and never tell the Ferengi Financier.
It was probably going to take Gregnol a week to thaw out afterwards, but he was going to walk with enough cold cash to make it worth his while. Calliope wasn’t really sure what he needed the money for, but it was something important enough to have accepted one of the highest stakes stages of the op, and one of the biggest parts of the pie, scaled to match his level of risk. The op would have been dead in the water without his part.
All the while Margot was operating a small drill disguised as a barnacle growth off the side of one of the vault walls. She’d started it that afternoon. All she had to do was get a tiny filament through to one of the interior hardlines. Calliope wasn’t contacting her for any status updates from the party deck. Margot would need to work her magic without being interrupted. Just getting linked to the vault wouldn’t be enough to break the security. The key would be once the trojan credit chips had been scanned in. Margot’s artistry would crack it from the inside out, and the little fiber from the foot of the artificial barnacle colony would transmit everything outside of the otherwise impenetrable vault. Once it was done, it would plug the tiny gap in the super-crete wall, release from the side and be carried off by the tides to be recovered by Indigo later.
Grott would discover hours later, when the band had performed it's final number and the guests had all disembarked, that a security cycle had been triggered, causing a complete reissue of access codes to every account in the vault, a usually robust design that kept everything secure.
“Except if the reissue itself was made by a piggy back code which then drained every account it gave itself access to!” Margot had previosly thrilled in summarizing her code work to Calliope. And true to plan, everyone had been paid and gone their separate ways.
But aside from recouping her costs in a credit transfer, Calliope had not received her pay-off— the data that she was after: the names and information tied to Grott’s clients, be it real or fabricated, which was meant to open up entirely fresh avenues of investigations into the criminal activity in the region surrounding Obsidian Command.
“Margot, there’s just one last thing,” Calliope, washed in the colors of the sunrise over the bay, presently said over the secure line to her young hacker friend. “I need those files.”
“I know you do Lolly. And I really do want to give you the data, honest. But I need something from you first.”
“You took your cut, Margot.”
“That’s just money, Lolly. I need the truth. I need Starfleet’s intel on the Verdaris Strain’s origins.”
“I don't have that.”
“Then you gotta find a way to get it, Lolly. I’ll have your data when you have mine.”
“What would you even do if you could find the people who engineered Verdaris?”
“I’d think of something to do, Lolly.”
“Revenge won’t bring back your dad.”
Margot hung up on her.
Calliope swore behind the privacy screen, but couldn't help also groaning in a kind of bemusement. Once again an operation of hers on Freecloud had gone almost entirely right, up until she’d lost everything she’d come there for in the end.
She shook her head in disbelief. “This is what I get for being too trusting.”
With that, she switched off the projection, and a device the size of a hockey puck dropped from where her heart should have been and fell into the now vacant seat. Moments later the holoprojector was picked up and pocketed by its owner.
