Tiger- Crusade

by David Smith

  A target for both sides now, he’d gone into survival mode and quietly slipped away from the raging battle, narrowly evading three or four attempts on his life. He finally managed to get out of the town on a stolen motorcycle just minutes before FLEA arrived with thousands of Police and Army personnel.

  Things had been desperate. Knowing his identity might be compromised if FLEA captured anyone who’d contracted with him, he’d been forced to change identity several times as he worked his way away from San Alvarez with the intent of eventually crossing the border into the US.

  In the end, he’d run out of fake ID’s and been forced to revert to his real name. He’d holed up on a farm on the American side of the border near El Paso and arranged an accident for the unfortunate farmer in order to eliminate the biggest hole in his alibi.

  Strangely, he’d felt bad about that. Not because he didn’t get paid for the hit, but because he genuinely felt sorry for the innocent farmer, who’d been unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  That incident had convinced him to hang up his guns and seek a different life. He’d seen enough death and destruction to last him a dozen life-times.

  His ill-gotten earnings were carefully hidden away, but in order to avoid drawing attention to himself, he decided to play the role for real. He went back to being Ezekiel Moss, homeless drifter, coming off a long run of bad luck. Even then he wasn’t in the clear and he’d had to avoid or eliminate several other survivors of the drug war that had come looking for him.

  His options were limited, but Starfleet service offered the chance to make a new start many, many light-years from the danger and guilt of his past life. If he was honest with himself, he enjoyed this new life, and didn’t miss the adrenaline rush of the contract.

  He’d always assumed that he wasn’t the only murderer to escape from San Alvarez that day, but the fact that the Feds were actively seeking Basilisk this far out hinted that he still hadn’t completely escaped from his past.

  The only question was whether the Feds had come here purely because they believed he was Basilisk or if they had intelligence of the real Basilisk’s movements and had happened to find him here. This frontier was a long way from Mexico to send a team just for an interview with a suspect.

  He’d been really careful to cover his tracks, but for the skilled investigator there was always a way to track people. In his experience, the Feds were good, but they were far from being the best. If Basilisk really was this far out in the boondocks, there could only be one person he was looking for.

  As he left the Feds interview room he saw a small, pretty oriental woman in skin-tight spandex that showed off a lean, athletic body. She headed past him towards the room and he recognised her as Stephanie Kwok, one of the hookers Chief Money had recruited a few years back.

  She flicked a casual sideways glance his way, and Moss wondered what the Feds Physical Response Analysis Tool would have made of that look. Instinstively, he looked away, trying not to make eye-contact.

  His mind was instantly considering why the Feds wanted to speak to her, and he assumed that it was nothing to do with her background in prostitution.

  He went back to his cabin and began cleaning his secret cache of weapons: he’d have to watch his back from now on. It seemed possible his past had caught up with him.

  --------------------

  Principle Convenor Reckless was sat behind the desk in his temporary office as Dave entered, looking unbearably smug and disconcertingly sweaty. ‘Ah, Commander Hollins! Glad you could make it. That makes matters much less complicated.’

  ‘Complicated?’ Dave was immediately wary.

  ‘Indeed!’ said the Convenor enthusiastically. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that you are one of the few Officers on this entire ship who hasn’t been the subject of a grievance from the rank and file . . . ‘

  ‘What??’

  ‘Yes, shocking isn’t it?’ smarmed the Union representative with poorly disguised delight. ‘It seems that the crew have been largely unhappy for quite some time, and the major source of their discontent seems to have been the Officer corps. I assume that you’ve largely escaped their ire as you’re a relatively recent arrival.’

  Reckless leaned back and smiled broadly as he announced ‘Either way, the Union will be making a case to Starfleet, requesting the immediate suspension of all Officers from USS Tiger pending . . . ‘

  ‘What????’ cried Dave.

  ‘But . . . ‘ Dave was about to argue, but suddenly realised he’d missed a point. ‘Hang on. You said I’d had no grievances levelled against me. How come you’re requesting my suspension?’

  Reckless looked surprised. ’You’re the First Officer, and were Executive Officer before that. As a considerable number of complaints were made against Officers directly or indirectly subordinate to yourself, you can hardly expect to get away without sanction, Commander! Their mistakes have been permitted under your authority.’

  Dave wanted to argue the point but realised that this was very much the Union’s usual mantra: All Officers are equally culpable. He settled on trying to reason with Reckless but realised he was wasting his time even before he’d finished speaking. ‘Convenor Reckless, surely much of this is trivial and could be resolved by face to face dialogue?’

  ‘Well I’d hardly describe this situation as trivial, Commander!’ exclaimed Reckless. ‘One thousand, one hundred and four grievances, listed against the officers of USS Tiger, by forty-two members of the crew? That’s hardly a recipe for a viable ship’s company is it?’

  Dave’s ears pricked up. ‘Forty-two? That means each of the plaintiffs raised about thirty or so grievances. We have a few very unhappy people, not a ship-wide bloody mutiny.’

  Reckless held his hand up to stop Dave ‘That’s not the point, Commander. All grievances must be given due consideration.’

  Dave got the feeling he was not being given all the information necessary to understand the situation, and tried a different tack. ‘So if we give all grievances due consideration, perhaps we should focus on the individual with most complaints: I assume that the thousand odd grievances weren’t evenly spread among the forty-two plaintiffs, so who has been most aggrieved?’

  Reckless shifted a little uncomfortably and replied ‘The Union has no wish to single out an individual. We feel that would encourage the management to put undue pressure on that unfortunate crewman.’

  Dave instantly realised who they were talking about. ‘So how many grievances has Crewman Voltaire raised?’

  Reckless looked even more uncomfortable ‘Uh . . . numbers aren’t important. All grievances matter’ he mumbled.

  ‘So it is Voltaire who’s made most complaints then?’ Dave prompted.

  ‘The Union does not condone . . . ‘

  ‘Oh for God’s sake! We’ll find out if anything goes to tribunal! Just admit it: how many complaints did Voltaire make?’ roared Dave.

  ‘There’s no need to be aggressive’ grumbled Reckless, ‘Typical bloody management, that is, shouting if you don’t get your way . . . ‘

  ‘How. Many.’ Dave restated, slowly and patiently.

  Reckless looked down and mumbled a number. Dave heard him, but didn’t want to let him off the hook. ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Could you repeat it a little louder please?’

  Reckless looked up with a face like thunder ‘Eight hundred and ninety-eight! Did you hear that ok??’

  Dave smiled. ‘Yes, thank you, Convenor Reckless. So aside from Crewman Voltaire, we have forty-one crew who’ve raised . . . two hundred and six? Less than five each on average and spread over how many years?’

  ‘About five’ admitted Reckless.

  ‘So aside from Voltaire, about forty complaints per year from a crew of well over four hundred? Doesn’t sound so bad . . . ’ suggested Dave.

  Another thought occurred to Dave. ‘And how many of those might have come from the Engineering Department?’

  Reckless looked crest-fallen.
Dave knew he’d found another weakness in the Union’s position and pressed on. ‘More specifically, how many of those were raised against Commander Cassini, who, by the way, is no longer a member of the crew?’

  Reckless clearly wanted to argue, but knew the figures would come out in the end. ‘Eight hundred and forty-six.’

  Before Dave could ask his next question Reckless answered it ‘Excluding grievances raised by Crewman Voltaire, that total includes eighty-six other complaints against Commander Cassini.’

  Dave considered who else might have attracted complaints from the crew, and the only other person to come to mind was Captain LaCroix.

  ‘Were there many grievances raised against the Captain?’

  Reckless scratched his head. ‘Yes, but every single one seemed to come from a Yeoman. I don’t understand why you have so many, but between them they raised over two hundred complaints. Weirdly there were no complaints about the Captain from any of the rest of the crew.’

  Reckless leaned forward and added in a confidential tone, ‘In truth, that may be because many of the crew didn’t realise the Captain was still assigned to the ship: I gather Captain LaCroix prefers to keep a low-profile.’

  Largely horizontal, Dave mused to himself. At least now he understood the scale and nature of the problem, and as he’d suspected from the outset, it mostly focused on Commander Cassini.

  ‘So we have eight hundred and seventy-six grievances against Commander Cassini, over two hundred grievances against Captain La Croix . . . ‘ Dave did some rapid mental arithmetic, ‘ . . . but only twenty-eight complaints against the other thirty or so officers?’

  ‘That’s still a lot’ grumbled Reckless.

  ‘But that’s spread over a five year period?’

  ‘They’re still legitimate grievances . . . ‘

  ‘Possibly, but aside from the majority of the complaints that were raised by Crewman Voltaire, who might be seen as . . . argumentative, and specific issues with the Captain and Commander Cassini we’re looking at less than six complaints per year against the other officers ’ suggested Dave.

  Reckless knew he was busted, but didn’t want to give up. ‘That’s hardly the point Commander. As a representative of the Union, I’m obliged to give all grievances due consideration.’

  ‘May I see some of them?’ Dave asked politely.

  Reckless looked thoroughly evasive ‘Well it’s not usual protocol to put individual grievances in the public domain until a date has been set for a tribunal . . . ‘

  ‘But as a Senior Executive Officer, I believe I have a right to review grievances in order to recommend a course of action to the Fleet?’ Dave suggested.

  Reckless knew he was right and pushed a pad across the desk for Dave to read. He saw a list of officer’s names, starting with Commander Cassini. Assuming the list was in order of number of grievances, he skimmed down past a seemingly endless list raised against Cassini, and then past a smaller number of entries with Captain LaCroix’ name high-lighted. Finally, he reached the next name on the list, Commander Olga Romanov.

  A string of eleven grievances appeared, and he opened the first:

  Crewman Tomas Forsell has raised a grievance that on Stardate 8849, Commander Olga Romanov did wantonly and unfairly finish off the ships supply of Vodka.

  He opened the next item.

  Crewman Juno Parker has raised a grievance that on Stardate 8863, Commander Olga Romanov did wantonly lob an empty vodka bottle at Commander Cassini, but missed and did in fact strike Crewman Parker, breaking her glasses and inflicting a small wound to the head.

  And the next;

  Crewman Jeong Taejun has raised a grievance that on Stardate 8913.1, Commander Olga Romanov did with needless roughness wake Crewman Taejun after he’d fallen asleep while undertaking maintenance of the starboard Bussard ram-scoop.

  And the next;

  Crewman Jeong Taejun has raised a grievance that on Stardate 8913.2, Commander Olga Romanov after waking Crewman Taejun with needless roughness, did refer to him as a ‘useless, bone-idle, malingering turd’ and added several other words in Ukrainian that are also presumed to be equally offensive.

  And the next;

  Crewman Tomas Forsell has raised a grievance that on Stardate 8918, Commander Olga Romanov did again wantonly and unfairly finish off the ships supply of Vodka.

  And so the list went on.

  ‘Hmm. Interesting grievances, but hardly cause for mutiny, are they?’ suggested Dave.

  ‘That’s easy for you to say’ grumbled Reckless ‘but our members have said their piece and we’re obliged to listen. At extraordinary length in the case of crewman Voltaire. We’re talking basic human rights here.’

  Dave had had enough. ‘Actually I think what you’re talking here is bollocks.’

  Reckless looked annoyed, but didn’t say anything. His gambit had failed.

  ‘Well, I have to say that the threat of action from the Union doesn’t worry me in light of what we’ve discussed. You may not have noticed, but we have several other issues to contend with just now’ said Dave.

  He paused and reflected that there was no way the Union could ever have made the charges stick, and this brought the realisation that the suspension of Tiger’s officers couldn’t have been the Union’s goal.

  ‘Ok Convenor Reckless, we’re just sparring here. This clearly isn’t about suspending Tiger’s Officers, so what’s the real issue at hand here?’

  Reckless had realised by now that Dave wasn’t going to be a push-over, and after a brief pause to gather his thoughts, he said a single word: ‘Overtime.’

  The confusion on Dave’s face was obvious enough that Reckless immediately clarified his stance. ‘The Union believes that your misadventures in what our members have described as ”Dark Space” and the “Mirror Universe” resulted in them serving more than six months that haven’t elapsed according to Fleet reckoning. We intend to claim that additional time as overtime and also get additional leave for the membership for that long service period without rest or recreation.’

  He leaned forward. ‘Look, I’m not out to get you here. In fact I sympathise with you to a large degree. Has anyone told you I used to be in the Fleet myself?’

  Dave shook his head. Reckless didn’t look like Fleet material, and if he had ever been in the Fleet, Dave wouldn’t have been surprised to find he’d been posted to Tiger.

  ‘Oh yes! I spent a good ten years in Starfleet, you know;’ nodded Reckless happily. ‘I used to work in the artificial intelligence field, writing programmes for computers and the like. In fact, you may have been working with some of my software: it’s still in use on a variety of probes.’

  Well, that explained a lot, thought Dave.

  Reckless cleared his throat. ‘Of course, if the Officers of USS Tiger were to support the Unions case for overtime payments being made, I feel sure the membership would feel that their grievances might seem . . . ungracious. It’s a distinct possibility they might withdraw them entirely’ Reckless suggested with the slightest of smirks.

  Ah, thought Dave, good old-fashioned black-mail. ‘I see. I’ll need to discuss this with the rest of the ship’s Officers . . . ‘

  ‘Of course, Commander, but I’d suggest you don’t take too long about it: I suspect that you could probably use the support of your crew when Captain B’Stard is throwing the book at you.’

  --------------------

  Dave was called to the JAG Office on Deck 5. He been up all of the previous night with PO Park and Lieutenant Sato trying to sanitise what records they could, but they’d barely scratched the surface. The whole of the day had been an endless defensive action and now late in the evening, he was deadly tired. He took a moment to compose himself before entering the office.

  ‘Good Evening Commander Hollins, please take a seat’ said B’Stard.

  Dave was instantly on his guard. There was something that looked suspiciously like a smirk on her face. Either that or she had wind.

  Da
ve took the seat, and waited for the pain.

  ‘Well, you’ll be pleased to know that Lieutenant-Commander Cannon and Lieutenant Ruell have finally completed their Professional Standards Audit. It wasn’t easy, and it’s taken far, far longer than it should have done thanks to that imbecilic computer of yours, but we got there in the end.’

  Dave stiffened. It wasn’t wind, she was definitely enjoying this. ‘I’ll take that as a good thing’ he replied, not mentioning that anything at all that got JAG off the ship sooner was a good thing.

  She smiled with the warmth and sincerity of a king cobra, her eyes fixed on his as she waited for any reaction. She pushed a pad towards him. ‘This is a summary of the ProStITUTe’s findings.’

  Dave didn’t want to look down and lose the staring contest, but couldn’t help but take a quick glance at the headline figure. Two hundred and thirteen.

  Dave breathed a mental sigh of relief; two hundred and thirteen charges was actually less than JAG had made last time they were aboard Tiger, and with so few charges there were unlikely to be any serious repercussions Somehow, they’d got away with it!. ‘Well thank you Captain, I hope the crew have been helpful in the course of your investigations. What course of action do you need to follow in respect of the two hundred and thirteen charges?’

  B’Stard blinked and retrieved the pad, reading it herself. She seemed to be almost trembling with excitement as she pushed it back to Dave and said ‘I think you misunderstand, Commander. That’s not two hundred and thirteen charges, that’s two-hundred and thirteen cases.’

  She paused to let this sink in, but Dave was so dumb-founded all he could say was ‘Whuuu??’

  Captain B’Stard was clearly struggling to suppress a grin.

  ‘Two hundred and thirteen prosecutions will be brought against individuals, consisting of two hundred and eighty-nine thousand, seven hundred and twelve individual charges.’