Unauthorized Access

Posted on 07 Feb 2024 @ 8:51pm by Commander Calliope Zahn & Lieutenant Commander Christophe Leblanc

Mission: M4 - Falling Out
Location: Secondary Craft Lab 13, Shuttlebay Section
Timeline: MD19 Evening
1702 words - 3.4 OF Standard Post Measure

It wasn’t terribly much trouble to arrange a moving team. Lance didn’t generally have need of expensive things, aside from the travel expenses of the trips Calliope had planned for them on their leave in the past, and perhaps the technology he preferred owning beyond standard issue and lab supplied equipment. Beyond that, his family money simply stayed in the accounts. It was pinches like these in which such resources became most useful.

The movers were able to scramble enough hands on very short notice, and, seeing as Lance couldn’t factor a way to have the USS Portland accept a delivery that wasn’t in a station requisition, he arranged a private shipper to handle the job. The cargo vessel would be outside of the bay shortly. Lance, via the cargo captain, had managed to enter the plan with flight control and had been lucky enough not to speak with anyone familiar with the current snafu. The cargo vessel would pull up to the exterior bay doors and, using a tractorbeam, take on the stripped down and half rebuilt runabout in her shuttle bay.

All that he needed was to find the door unlocked, the security alarms defeated.

And that was just how he discovered them, the access panels clear and the door freely admitting him.

Once in the bay he found it very different than when he had last been inside. All of the active working materials and tools that had filled the bay and made him feel very much in active progress were cleared away. The scrap they had stripped off the nearly-culled runabout were no longer piled and sorted to either side. It was strangely empty, but for the Calliope herself, standing like a strange mystery of partly finished form and casting long shadows as it was backlit in the secondary low lighting.

He drew his hand along one of the lines of his ship.

She was cool to the touch and beautiful with potential.

If only her namesake could be remade and restored in this way. He’d stayed by her at her very worst and yet she met him with only rejection and bickering now. Perhaps she just couldn’t appreciate him until he was out of her reach once more. She would miss him as she always did when they were apart and then be open to moving to Sol, or else accepting the terms necessary to fill their unmet needs while apart.

After all, she was already having some kind of relations with his replacement to whom she had given his decanter. His brow furrowed while he tried to divert the aggression he felt into reason.

Leblanc was a poor substitute for himself, that was all. Calliope was either in a moment of desperation or else trying to make some new point with him. When she was ready to admit it, he could forgive her for this too. Or else she could come to see that an open marriage was, in fact, the solution for them, and her entanglement with Leblanc was merely evidence of how right Lance was about her and about what was best for them going forward. Perhaps she’d not been duplicitous with him so much as in denial, and Lance could forgive that as well, he supposed. Women were complicated, and such was to be expected.

As the moving crew arrived and began to wrap down the runabout with expandable foam and massive lengths of protective sheeting, Lance looked on with care, as if the Calliope was being tucked safely in to slumber.

He checked the padd in his jacket pocket for confirmation notes of the cargo ships being inbound to the proper location, and having received the message, walked across the bay to activate the containment field and the exterior bay door. It was very nearly time to spirit this girl off.

The doors to the bay opened again, but the activities already in progress made it nearly impossible to notice. As the moving crew prepped the runabout for its pilfering under the direction of the former CEO, the current one stepped in and stopped after a few steps, his strong arms crossed under his chest and his blue eyes locked on the back of Quinn’s head.

Next to him stood his Assistant Chief, a look of curious amusement on her face. The Brazilian woman adopted a posture much like his, her warm eyes evaluating the man they had come to confront. She had never met Quinn, as she was also a new transfer, but she had learned all about him from the staff.

“Bonjour.” Leblanc said, loud enough to be heard, and offered a displeased but calm expression.

Lance carried on, pretending not to hear, but simply rolling his eyes heavenward at the familiar voice. He triggered the exterior door which began to slowly part from the center.

“Commander Quinn, station security is on its way down here at this very moment to put an end to this act of theft and to place you in the brig.” Chris said, his eyebrows lifting. “I can only guess that, right now, your cargo vessel is being ordered to stand down for questioning and a routine search.”

“It would be easier if you came willingly.” Commander Vaz said, her low voice echoing across the bay.

Recognizing that there was something amiss in the situation at hand, the moving crew paused in their progress, having come close to finishing the work, but uncertain what was at play. There was a single sound of tearing as one of the sheets was taped down and the last member of the hired hands realized there was some kind of trouble.

With the work ceased, the only sound in the bay remained the hum of the parting exterior doors. The stars lay beyond, but no sign of the cargo vessel Lance had employed.

Lance twisted his lips at the nearness of his timing. He’d been so close. His shoulders fell as he leaned one hand on the post of the exterior bay door, looking out into the dizzying expanse just a few feet beyond. Space was vast, indeed.

“If not today, then tomorrow, Leblanc.” Lance said, still not giving him the pleasure of turning to face him. “I’ve all the rights to this ship and you’ve only a few straps of administrative tape. Give up the petty games.”

“You’re the only one playing, Quinn. And, I might add, you are losing. I’m surprised someone with your…towering intellect didn’t notice.” Leblanc smiled. “You have been outmaneuvered. And, soon, you will be charged with conspiracy to steal Starfleet property.”

“Mere technicalities. I simply made more expedient arrangements on behalf of the best interests of the project, which remains under my care, enroute to another Fleet facility. That you wish to make this a security claim is a waste of everyone’s time and energy.”

“Your word against mine, my department, and the Operations Department as well.” Leblanc said as the doors to the bay opened and four security officers entered. “Take Commander Quinn and move him to the brig. As for these movers…you’re department head might wish for you to take them in for questioning.”

“I’m still billing this hour,” the foreman said, clearly displeased to be in the middle of an unauthorized situation when he’d been led to believe otherwise. “And every hour we’re detained. And keeping the deposit on the move.”

“I hope your bank account can take it, Commander.” Jo said with a grin to Quinn.

One of the security Lieutenants put a hand on Lance’s arm. And when he tried to shrug it off of his person, her other hand rested ready on her phaser.

“Fine!” Lance shouted, before catching himself. Disliking the idea of unnecessary application of force, he recollected his demeanor. “I shall go along. But only to elucidate this tin-pot plot against me. Insofar as such foolishness can be made clear.” As Lance, flanked by the security members, passed Leblanc he side eyed him. “You may as well leave it wrapped for my departure tomorrow.”

“I hope you won’t get your hopes up.” Chris said, shaking his head as the man was carted away. He quickly got the attention of one of the security guards.

“I would like a detail stationed in this bay for the next several days, if possible.” He said in an easy and relaxed tone.

“Yes, sir. I’m sure we can make that happen.” The shorter woman said. “The runabout won’t be going anywhere until we receive orders otherwise.”

And with that, she turned away and followed Lance. Chris prepared himself to make one more comment.

“Sit tight, Commander.”

As he exited the bay under escort, Lance sneered and retorted over his shoulder, “Do keep your hands off her, Leblanc. This isn’t over”.

It wasn’t clear if Lance was commenting to protect his ship or his wife, but Leblanc didn’t care either way.

“I’m sorry to say it, but It is up to me now, man. I will do what I Will.”

“Mark my words, I will see to it that—” Lance would have liked to have had the last word, but the doors shut behind him and his escort automatically.

“Let’s say I’m happy he’s leaving.” Jo said now that they were alone. “Can you believe he was just going to try and take the Runabout anyway?”

“I can, actually.” Chris said with a raising of his brow. “But it’s nothing to worry about. He’s going to the brig and this runabout is staying right here.”

“Is the team still on schedule to finish stripping out his engine today?” She asked, her warm dark eyes meeting his cool blue ones. “What are you going to do with it?”

“As much as I would like to break the Quinn-Navine Drive down for its parts to spite the man, I shall not.” He said with an emerging smile. “We’ll put it in a box and make him beg for it.”