Tiger- Crusade

by David Smith

  Dave nodded ‘Excellent work, Steward. So we’re all set to go, and it looks like it’s down to the performers now.’

  --------------------

  Crash dropped Tiger out of warp and the starship coasted silently through the approaches to the Tana home-world. It transpired that the Tana referred to their world as Halom, which with typical lack of Tana imagination, translated literally as ‘home’.

  Tiger’s sensors were running in passive modes, and they ghosted past space-stations, service craft, and all manner of other Tana structures completely unnoticed.

  Dolplop, O’Mara and Janus all carefully watched their displays looking for any indication that Tiger had been spotted, but for hour after hour they crept closer to the Tana home-world apparently unnoticed. Slipping around the far side of a convenient asteroid they decelerated hard, and completed the rest of their approach painfully slowly, using only thrusters to minimise the chance of being noticed.

  Eventually Crash said quietly, ‘Orbital insertion point reached, establishing circular orbit at an altitude of fifty thousand clicks.’

  ‘Good work team’ sighed Dave, ‘That’s phase one complete. O’Mara, what’s the situation with their broadcasting?’

  The Science Officer compared notes with two of her subordinates who’d joined her at the Bridge’s Science Station. ‘As expected, they’ve got a network of broadcasting infrastructure in geo-stationary orbit at thirty-four thousand clicks, uplinks from several locations, but mainly coming from one big set-up just outside the capital. That also links to sub-space transmitters in higher orbit. The main one seems to be at the primary La Grange point between the planet and the star.’

  Dave nodded. All good so far. ‘Janus, what’s the tactical situation?’

  ‘Better than we hoped, sir. There are a variety of defensive stations on the ground and in low orbit, but not as many as I’d expected. Also, there are hardly any warships here. What few there are seem to be older, smaller types. There’s certainly nothing in the class of the battleships we keep running up against in Sha T’Al space.’

  ‘What about shields?’

  ‘They have a planetary defence shield up and running, but it’s low-powered and operating on a single frequency. If we pick a fairly open space without too much geological clutter, we can probably set the transporter to operate strait through it.’

  ‘Excellent. O’Mara, scan for suitable landing points and get your team to upload any useful geographical data from local networks. The more data we have the better.’

  Dave left Ruiz in command and headed down to the Rec-Deck, where Lieutenant Selassie, her team and the Steward were overseeing the preparation of the various competitors. They had time yet to complete the genetic level alterations they needed to make, and still had some leeway if they decided some acts weren’t worth trying: It would take O’Mara and her team at least a week to run up the background information and create the fake personality profiles they needed.

  As he approached he could hear the noise and commotion of dozens of his crew practicing their routines while Chief Petrakova and Chief Panesar did their best to brief them on what they’d need to know to pass as members of the Tana population.

  The door opened and Dave managed one step inside before he froze to the spot. A huge knife flashed in front of his face and struck the door frame behind him with a resounding clang.

  The room went deadly silent.

  ‘WHAT THE F . . . !‘

  Crewman Jalani wobbled over on his unicycle, sheepishly hopped down and collected the knife. ‘Sorry sir! I was just trying a bit of variation in the juggling act. I thought if Wanda Simeonov can do it, I ought to give it a go.’

  ‘Isn’t it a prerequisite of juggling to actually hang on to the knives?’ growled Dave.

  ‘Um . . . yes, but I was thinking of combining knife juggling and throwing . . . ‘

  Dave glared at him.

  ‘To spice things up a bit? Make it more exciting?’ explained Jalani.

  Dave said nothing.

  ‘The juggling bit’s fine, but the throwing bit needs . . . a little more work yet’ blushed Jalani.

  ‘Could I suggest you practice on the firing range?’ growled Dave.

  ‘Yes sir. Good idea sir’ said Jalani and slipped away, tail firmly between his legs.

  The Steward approached with his usual air of complete calm. ‘Good afternoon Commander, how may we assist you?’

  ‘I just thought I’d come and see how things are shaping up.’

  Beyond the Steward someone on stilts collided with another unicycle rider and came crashing down on the deck, knocking a violinist flying and starting a heated argument as well as a call to the sick-bay. A medium-sized dog appeared out of nowhere and began shamelessly humping the unconscious stilt-walker, much to the dismay of his skimpy-leotard-clad trainer, who tripped over a tap dancer as she tried to control the errant dog. At the rear of the room a fire-eater blew out a column of flame, which startled a parrot perched nearby. It took-off with a squawk and after a couple of circles crapped on Dave’s shoulder.

  The Steward barely missed a beat as he produced a handkerchief and casually wiped the shoulder of Dave’s uniform. ‘Fine sir, we’re having a few issues with the lack of room to practice, but all things considered, it’s going quite well.’

  Dave was speechless, so the Steward pressed on. ‘The acts are getting some practice, but it’s more important that the A&A Team help them sort out their background stories and get them familiar with Tana mannerisms and habits before they go planet-side.’

  ‘They still have to win their competitions, Steward’

  ‘Yes sir, but they have several weeks to practice in their own space while they’re on the planet. We’re a little more restricted up here.’

  ‘True enough. So how are the cover stories coming along?’

  ‘Very well sir. We have a lot of variations on the same sort of theme. Love, loss, misfortune, personal anxiety . . . all our woes laid out for others to see. Strange, but no doubt effective.’

  A fight had broken out now, with the scantily clad dog-trainer rolling on the floor with the tap-dancer. Chief Panesar was doing his best to separate the brawlers, but he was being hounded by the stilt-walker, who’d recovered enough to complain vociferously about the very obvious white stains on his trousers. Meanwhile, Jalani grabbed a extinguisher and fought to put out a burning chair that the fire-eater had accidently ignited.

  Dave sighed ‘So you’re sure everything’s in hand?’

  ‘Absolutely sir!’ replied the Steward with quite astonishing confidence and calmness.

  Dave turned and left the Rec-deck before something went seriously wrong.

  --------------------

  Once Tiger had completed her first few reconnaissance orbits, Dave called the Officers to the Briefing Room.

  ‘Ok O’Mara, what have we got?’

  ‘Well I reckon we’ve got it all sorted. We’ve identified a suitable safe landing zone in an abandoned factory district where we can land the whole away team. They’ll each have a full set of documents and by the time they’re down we’ll have hacked into civic databanks and created enough background that they should be accepted as Tana. They’ll have credit accounts, family history, working history, even medical records.’

  ‘That’s great work, Aisling!’

  The Science Officer blushed. ‘Ah well, I can’t take the credit there. I co-opted PO Park and PO Okocha from Chief Money’s team: they are much more experienced with hacking into systems and perpetrating elaborate frauds.’

  ‘Oh’ said Dave. He was painfully aware that Park in particular had been instrumental in the Chiefs scheme to defraud Starfleet’s stores systems by ordering huge amounts of material, selling it on to the civilians on Hole and then falsifying the ship’s records to hide the transactions.

  O’Mara smiled. ‘It’s all good! You did say that we had the people for the job, and when it comes too perpetrating the biggest con the Tana have ev
er seen, we’re the A-Team!’

  Dave nodded ruefully. This was a monster entirely of his own making.

  ‘Ok. We drop the team at the landing zone. A couple of security bods set up a comms station while the competitors and their support crew take residence in the safe houses we’ve established remotely. The Tana use the same sub-space communication technology as us and the Sha T’Al so we need to be careful about staying in contact. As a security measure, we’ll communicate via directional x-ray laser only. That’ll be completely undetectable unless someone physically gets between the transmitter and the reciever.’

  ‘The downside of that is that we’ll only be able to up-link when the ship’s orbit takes it into line-of-sight of the transmitter. Being in a high-orbit, Tiger will be orbiting less than once a day so realistically we’ll have a decent communication window about seven hours on then twenty-two hours off. When things get closer to the big day, we’ll post a couple of probes one hundred and twenty degrees further down our orbit so they can act as relay stations and keep comms available round the clock. We’ll keep sub-space comms available, but will only use them in an emergency.’

  Dave hesitated. He knew just how difficult it could be to persuade the highly intelligent probes to undertake high risk missions. ‘Are the probes on board with that?’

  O’Mara flushed. ‘Well I did have to offer them first dibs on the latest games and entertainment media, but I figured that was a small price to pay. Ensign David is kitting them out with x-ray lasers as we speak.’

  Dave was relieved. His own relationship with the ship’s complement of ‘non-biological crew-members’ (as the probes described themselves) was fractious at best. At least they seemed to be less hostile in their dealings with the Science Officer. ‘Good work, Aisling. Commander Mengele, how are the physical alterations to the operatives coming along?’

  There was the distinctive rustle of PVC underwear as the tall, elegant blonde straightened herself and took a deep breath. ‘The results are what you might call a mixed bag. Most patients are responding well to the genetic treatments and are beginning to take on the familiar grey hue. However, in a couple of cases, the treatment seems to be meeting a significant resistance and just won’t take. Crewman Amal Jalani is a particular example. For some reason, the genetic treatment is acting in an unexpected fashion and he’s gone distinctly blue. Quite a fetching shade, actually.’

  O’Mara sniggered. ‘He looks like a smurf! I kid you not. We even made him a little white hat, which he was quite happy to wear until someone let him in on the joke.’

  Commander Mengele raised an eyebrow and gave O’Mara a disdainful look before continuing. ‘Amusing the members of the Science team is not my goal. I will try a variation of the treatment in order to make Jalani available. I should know by later today if that will work. In the meantime I suggest you consider an alternative for Jalani and also crewmen Chevikine and Nyambayo.’

  ‘Is it not working for Nyambayo?’

  ‘Unfortunately not, Commander. Despite my best efforts to date, his body refuses to turn grey.’

  Dave was disappointed. He’d seen all the acts at some stage and James Nyambayo had taken to Tana-style tap-dancing like a duck to water. He’d been disappointed to lose Decarvalho, but having seen Nyambayo take his place, Dave had thought he had to be one of their best chances. He turned to the Steward. ‘Who’s the alternative?’

  The Steward looked concerned. ‘We’re a bit short of dancers sir. Gutzeit flatly refused to participate, and we’ve already confirmed that none of the other decent dancers will be able to tolerate the Doctor’s treatments. The only real candidate left is Jane Doe.’

  Dave gulped. ‘Is that wise?’ He gulped again. ‘Is that safe?’

  The Steward shrugged ‘I have no concerns for Jane’s safety, sir, and she is extraordinarily graceful. We’ll just have to hope she doesn’t take knock on the head mid-contest.’

  Dave slumped. They had to be in it to win it. ‘Ok, ask Jane Doe to prepare, but if there’s any sign of Nyambayo improving get him up to speed as our primary choice.’

  Mengele nodded. ‘The other necessity is the implanting of universal translators. I believe we’ve now perfected that. We’ve found a way of implanting direct into the brain and using the auditory nerve as the input. Output is proving more difficult: we’ve created a neural path to the speech centres of the brain, but we’re having to create a false ‘”memory” of how to speak the Tana language. That’s different from individual to individual so it’s taking longer than anticipated, but I’ve got cybernetics experts from Engineering and Science departments working on that. I’m also still working with the Engineering Department for a way to hide the cerebral implants from Tana security scanners, but I expect to have everything ready by T-Day.’

  Dave nodded. ‘Everything seems to be coming together. I’m happy with progress so we’ll begin the ground part of the mission the day after tomorrow as planned.’

  Chapter 16

  The transport beam faded away, and the team found themselves standing in a cold, dark, damp, deserted factory.

  Crewman Jonny Walters quickly set up the comm-laser, while the other operatives cleared the landing zone and set up lookout positions and some low-key lighting.

  The comm-laser powered up and scanned the sky, looking for the incoming laser being fired down from Tiger. As soon as it found x-rays of the right frequency, it homed in on Tiger’s position and began to transmit.

  There was no need at all to whisper, but Walter’s couldn’t help himself. ‘Away team one down. Landing zone secured.’

  With that, the jangling noise of the transport beam began and another away team beamed down, including the first of the actual competitors.

  To Jonny’s disgust, this included Lieutenant ‘Crash’ Stallworth, who’d been selected instead of him as a candidate for ’Why?-factor’.

  To add insult to injury, he’d been asked to act as one of Crashes support team, simply because he was one of the few other crewmen that could accept the genetic treatments Dr Mengele had devised.

  It wasn’t all bad though. At least he could help ensure the success of the mission by coaching Crash and giving him the benefit of his musical experience.

  The transporter beam jangled again and a third party beamed down. A slightly different noise heralded transport from one of the ships heavy-duty cargo transporters and several large crates appeared further down the factory. These contained all the clothing, documents and equipment they’d need for the mission. They also included some luxuries such as human food: One of the things established in previous encounters with that Tana was that their food was close to inedible.

  As another party beamed down, the first of the operative cells, comprising one competitor and two support team members took their kit and disappeared into the night. They’d find their way to an apartment which had been rented for them by the hackers on Tiger, and between now and the conclusion of the mission they wouldn’t come back apart from a discreet pass by one of the support team to leave a status report.

  Chief Belle left with her support team and then it was Jonny’s turn. He gathered his kit and followed Crash and Crewman Zoe Hernandez out into the night.

  --------------------

  Dave watched nervously from the Bridge as the various members of the away team transported down to the surface in groups of six. With competitors in seven competitions they’d landed twenty-one competitors and support team members and another three crew-members to secure the landing and extraction zone.

  That was a lot of bodies to get down to the surface, and come the big day it was a lot of bodies to extract too. Chief Belle had expected that the teams would be extracted immediately if they were knocked out of their competition, but Lieutenant Selassie and her team had pointed out that losing normally entailed doing interviews and making personal appearances for several days after elimination as standard part of the show’s format..

  Extracting teams immediately might raise su
spicions, so they had to agree to leave the teams on the surface until interest in them had died down. Unfortunately, no-one was sure how long this would take as Tana entertainment was still very much in its infancy.

  Davee breathed a sigh of relief as the first landing party set up the comm-laser but didn’t relax until many hours later when the last of the seven teams sneaked off to their apartments.

  --------------------

  Crash didn’t really appreciate the coaching from Jonny Walters. He knew he meant well, but it seemed odd that a musician who was such a conspicuous failure was so determined to give him advice.

  ‘Crash, you really should consider playing some thrash metal. The classics are making a big comeback.’

  ‘Yeah, but the Tana don’t know that ACE’ he replied dismissively. ‘I’ll have to stick with what I’m familiar with. I’m not comfortable playing songs I barely know.’

  ‘But the classics! AC/DC! Blue Oyster Cult, Motorhead! Nirvana! How about “Smells Like Teen Spirit”? Some great C chords in that one! If you played a song like that . . . ‘

  Crash had never head of any of them. ‘No! I know you’re a big fan, but Cassie Jones is perfect for this gig. She always wrote about love, loss, alcohol, adultery . . . all the great emotional issues. It all fits with the game-plan. The songs she wrote could’ve been written for this mission.’

  Jonny looked disappointed. ‘I wrote a song once . . . ‘

  Crash looked at him, waiting for the story.

  ‘That’s all. I just thought I’d let you know.’

  Crash went back to practising his chords, but out of the corner of his eye he could see how disappointed Jonny looked. His conscience pricked him and he put his guitar down. ‘So what about you? Why do want to be a musician?’

  Jonny smiled ‘Fame . . . sex . . . drugs . . . alcohol . . . ‘

  ‘What about the music?’