Stardate 2365.02.13
Starbase 118, Drake's Quarters - 18:24

The gray-haired Admiral had taken his leave and wished Silas the best.  The former CO of the Peregrine sat in a bit of a daze until the door chime rang - as he knew it would.  "Come," he spoke.

Lieutenant Commander Jennings stood in the doorway, flanked by his Security goons.  "Commander Silas Drake," he spoke, "I am here on behalf of Starfleet Command to formally notify you of the inquiry into your actions in the Gamera system, as well as those committed both to and from the mission site itself.  Captain Joshua Jacobs has provided more than sufficient evidence to call for this investigation.  At present, the charges against you include failure to obey a direct order, insubordination, and high treason - but more charges are pending."

He took a breath.  "Captain Richards has chosen to allow you to remain in house arrest, but note that if you violate this in the slightest, you will be relocated to the brig."  A nasty gleam was in the man's eye.  "I'm personally hoping that you will give me an excuse to so relocate."

Jennings glanced at one of his officers.  "Bind him," he ordered.  "Drake, you will accompany us now to station Security to undergo formal questioning.  You have a right to have counsel present during such questioning, but you may not decline to answer.  Do you understand?"

Silas nodded in acceptance as he held his hands out.  "I understand," he spoke as the binders were slapped on. 

----------------------------------------------------

It was not lost on Drake that he was led through what appeared to be less traveled corridors.  This time, there were no common areas, no civilians to pass.  Soon enough, he found himself seated at a small table in a small room next to the brig.  Presently, a Security-clad Lieutenant entered the room and took the seat opposite his.  The illusion was that they were alone, but Silas well knew that the conversation was being broadcast - and that the far wall was a viewport in the room for what was surely a handful of officers outside.

He cocked an eyebrow.  "I thought I was supposed to have counsel present?"

She nodded.  "Yes, sir.  You can wait for that, if you prefer."

Drake smirked ever so slightly.  "That's okay, as I have nothing to hide.  In fact, Lieutenant - please note that I am voluntarily surrendering my rights against P&D interrogation.  I will hold no detail back."

She stammered in response and excused herself from the room.

----------------------------------------------------

P&D - short for polygraph and drug - had been illegal for at least a hundred and fifty years.  The names were a bit antiquated; twentieth century polygraphs were notoriously unreliable.  Of course, medicine had come a very long way in the past three hundred fifty years; it was quite possible to analyze brain waves in real time to determine the truthfulness of a witness; only the most skilled pathological liars were able to beat such tests.

The "D" related to the various "truth serum" drug cocktails that were once a staple of Cold War era spy novels.  Sodium Penthothal and similar drugs did once enjoy various levels of success, but these had been outlawed by humanity since the late twentieth century.  Again, the progress of medical knowledge had long since yielded ways to force witnesses to tell the truth; the drugs tended to leave the recipient feeling quite nauseous and drowsy for a day or two after, but they were all but perfectly reliable.

Of course, both methods were highly illegal across the Federation, as they obviously violated personal rights.  Rights that Drake had willingly chosen to waive. 

----------------------------------------------------
Stardate 2365.02.19
Starbase 118, Drake's Quarters - 19:12

"Drake, are you alive?"

The gruff, but not unfriendly voice called out into his apartment, but Silas could do little more than moan in answer.  The Admiral let himself in, and found Silas crumpled in the floor, where he was hugging the head for all he was worth. 

Rather than show sympathy, the older man chuckled.  "I've seen Andorians that weren't as green as you, man!"

Silas groaned again.  "I have accepted the fact that I'm going to die from overdose.  Give me some privacy, please."

The Admiral chuckled again. "Glad to see you keeping your spirits up.  I'd feel sorry for you, but this is a self inflicted wound; what sort of damned fool *asks* for P&D?"

The older man glanced to the side.  "In all seriousness, I wanted you to know - even with your testimony, things aren't going as well as they could have. The computer recordings from the Peregrine have been confiscated by Intelligence and marked as Classified."

Silas swore, retched, and swore again.  "Jacobs," he spat.

The Admiral nodded.  "Some friend of his, almost certainly.  But the realistic fact is this - as compelling as your testimony may be, you can't corroborate it with anything."

"My crew..." Drake started to object, but was interrupted.

"And Jacobs will have his crew testify his way.  He's very good at this game.  It will remain your word against his."

Silas shook his miserable head.  When push came to shove, a senior officer was to be believed... especially if the senior was well connected.  "Can I appeal?"

The Admiral shook his head.  "Your hearing starts in two days.  You can try, but nobody will hear it before then.  By the time those records see the light of day, the Court Martial will be long over."

Drake groaned.  "On the bright side, I'll hopefully die before they can sentence me."

Nah, you're good.  I'm going to let Eol post, then I'm going ahead.

Onlt two posts in a week?

Eol has promied me a post, as has elixir_often. 

Bud?  Keeper?

Makes sense.

Post is up for inspector Kithran.

Kithran takes her time to examine the scene.  There is no doubt that the violence done here had something to do with the disarray - but there is no reasonable way to think that it had to do with all of it.  Unless, of course, you buy the theory that the wizard was emptying his junk drawer in the face of the undead as a means to prevent their attack.

No, it is clear that the house was ransacked after the right, after the death.  There are footprints that track blood and gore all over the house, but the majority of them (and the majority of the char) lie under the debris, as if the papers and items were scattered after the fight - not before or during.

As for the bed; Kithran is likely no counissuer of urine, but the bed does smell particularly fetid, and the puddle and stains are mostly around the pillow and head area of the bed.  This was an act of defcacement, not some byproduct of the fight.

As for the debris itself - it seems of little value or consequence overall.  There are no coins, no gems, nothing of notable value.  Much of the parchment is singed, outright burned, or otherwise obscured.. almost as if someone made a systematic effort to ensure that this man's thoughts were not left for posterity.

In depth investogation reveals that the mage apparently had an interest in cults of some sort; he makes more than once reference to a "death cult" in his notes or letters, though it is difficult to find any detail in the damaged writings.  He also speaks of "the ritual", or "the rituals" in many places, though it is unclaer if they are tied to any cult in any manner.   A fina; frequent term is "anchor", though what it might mean is anyone's guess.

Reralae is one of the best players and writers on this site.  I have no doubt that this game will be a roaring success.

I'm running three games right now, myself (including another Trek game), but I would be interested in taking a junior officer or enlisted role, just to do a little behind the scenes type helping.

Welcome to the Inn!

Bruh,

No worries.  I seldom post on weekends, myself... and I'm out of town. 

The plot thickens...

The window for fundraising is about to close!

For the first time in days, Drake has a glimmer of hope...

Stardate 2365.02.13
Starbase 118, Drake's Quarters - 18:06

The Admiral's words hung heavy in the air, and though the man's words were not unkind, they seemed difficult for Silas to get his head around. 

Dumbly, he sputtered in response.  "Sir?"

The Admiral sighed and shook his head slowly.  "At ease, Commander... have a seat." 

As Drake carefully accepted the offer, the Admiral continued.  "Do you have the slightest idea of just how much of a pain in my ass you have become?  Jacobs has been in contact with Starfleet Command nonstop for the past three days.  All sorts of charges are coming your way - surely you are aware of that?"

Silas nodded carefully.  "Yes, sir.  I expected as such."

The older man seemed satisfied with that.  "That, in and of itself, is going to be an enormous mess.  The inquiry, the Court Martial..."

I guess that makes it official, Drake silently mused.

"...and all of that is bad enough," the Admiral groused, "but what am I supposed to do about all of THIS?" he demanded, gesturing at the viewscreen. 

Silas continued to feel foolish, like some joke had been shared with everyone in a crowded room but him.  "Sir?" he inquired.

The older man fixed Silas with an incredulous stare for a moment.  "You don't mean to tell me... you actually don't know, do you?"  Bizarrely, the Admiral began to chuckle.  "I suppose that you haven't paid attention to the newsvids, eh?  Well, congratulations, Commander... according to the public, you're a frilling hero." 

The Admiral gestured, and the broadcast changed to a different provider.  Two women - one human, one Vulcan - debated one another earnestly.  Silas couldn't seem to focus on their conversation, but the title at the bottom of the screen caught his eye: "COMMANDER DRAKE - HERO OF THE PEOPLE, ENEMY OF THE STATE?"

Drake’s mouth opened, then closed without a sound.  Finally, he found his voice.  "Sir, I don't understand."

The Admiral chuckled dryly.  "Someone - I have it on good authority that it was a highly placed Kuldarian diplomat - apparently decided to sing your praises to the news media.  How you went far beyond the edge of duty to save lives, to save their peace process.  Governmental officials for the Rytain say nearly the exact same thing.  The story has spread like wildfire, how a generations old conflict ended because of the actions of a Federation warship in stopping a terrorist plot, how her maverick Captain ignored regulations to save the day."

Silas stayed completely silent as the Admiral spoke.

"There is holo footage of the Peregrine firing on the Coronado.  There are those in Starfleet Command who are ready to fit you for a noose right now.  And yet... how does one hang a hero?"  The older man pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.  "Like I said, Commander, you have become an amazing pain in my ass."

Drake cleared his throat.  "Sir, if I may, it must be clear that my officers were only carrying out my direct orders.  I am solely..."

The Admiral cut him off.  "Don't be ridiculous, Drake!  Of course they were following orders!  No one with a shred of common sense thinks for a moment that some two pip Looey took it upon himself to fire on a Federation vessel!  This sits at your doorstep alone."

Silas nodded.  "I understand, sir.  I am prepared to accept the consequences of..."

Again, he was cut off.  "Commander, be silent.  I want to ask you some questions.  You will answer me with complete, unvarnished truth in all cases.  If I decide that you are holding back details, that you are attempting to place a positive spin on any aspect - let alone, that you are lying - then my time with you here is done.  This is not an official interrogation, mind you - but your words do matter.  Do I have your word that you will be truthful?"

Silas nodded.  What could he possibly have to lose?  "Aye, sir.  I will not hold anything back."

The gray haired Admiral nodded.  "Very well. 

Did you disobey a direct order from Captain Jacobs and abandon the ordered attack run?”

Silas nodded. “Yes sir, I did. I had compelling evidence to suggest that the Kuldar were not behind the attack, as Captain Jacobs believed.”

The next question came. “Did you remove Captain Jacobs as commanding officer of the battle group under threat of force?”

Silas nodded. “Yes sir, I did. His actions were jeopardizing the peace process. An attack against an innocent party would have ended all peace negotiations.”

The questions kept coming. “Did you later fire on the USS Coronado, fully aware of the fact that this was a Federation vessel that you were targeting?”

Again, Silas nodded. “Yes sir, I did. Captain Jacobs refused to break off his attack. I took down his shields to get his attention.”

The Admiral arched an eyebrow. “Did you threaten to cause loss of Federation life aboard the USS Coronado, unless Captain Jacobs relinquished command of his vessel?”

Silas had no choice but to agree. “Yes sir, I did. Captain Jacobs chose to retaliate, and had I not threatened to disable his vessel, he would have done so – or worse - to mine.”

But the questions were not over. “Did you threaten neutral alien fleets – fleets representing the very governments whose peace you were supposed to be brokering – with destruction if they failed to comply with your instructions?”

The room seemed to draw in close around Drake as he answered. “Yes sir, I did. The fleets were taking hostile positions, and the peace summit would have ended had they began shooting at one another.”

The Admiral shook his head. “So you threatened to kill them instead. Did you also arrest the head Ambassador of a foreign power at a peace summit that you were supposed to protect?”

A rueful grin touched at Drake’s mouth. “I did, indeed. I had evidence that the Ambassador was aligned with the terrorists, but he was otherwise untouchable. So I invoked plenipotentiary powers and declared him a threat to operational security, had him arrested and held for his crimes against his own people. And yes, I did follow up and threaten the representatives of both governments when they attempted to abandon the summit.”

The Admiral stared at Silas for several agonizingly long moments with an unreadable expression.

“These could all be interpreted as very serious – even capital – crimes," the Admiral observed. Silas nodded, knowing as much. “As I already told you, there will be an official inquiry, and I see no way that there will not be a formal Court Martial; there is simply no way for Starfleet to look the other way, no matter what the newsvids might be saying. Commander Drake,” the older man continued, “I do have one final question,” he stated. “I’d like to know how, exactly, you fit them in.”

Silas blinked, feeling rather stupid. “Fit what, sir?”

The older man actually laughed. “Son, how exactly do you manage to fit those enormous brass balls of yours inside of regulation uniform trousers?”

For the first time in days, Silas began to wonder if there might be some improbable way out of this as the Admiral continued to chortle over the idea of a Commander invoking plenipotentiary powers.

Cedric is asleep at the Inn. 

Brom, I read your post when you first submitted.  You added, like, twice as much to it! 

**continues happy reading**

This is all making me excited for what it to come.

Another post concerning Drake's fate is in the works right now...

Glad your mom is doing okay.

Yay posts!

I would expect that Kith and Midge would be best equipped to look for anything useful here.

Whoever trashed the place was pretty gross.

I see eight people!

And you guys acted like this was a deathtrap or something. 

Cautiosly, Aranwen pushes the door open.  It quickly becomes apparent that Athandar isn't going to object to a lare cat man barging into his home; the mage will never object to anything again, as a matter of fact.

The corpse of middle aged human man dressed in blue robes lies on the floor here.  His long gray beard is matted with blood, his eyes are fixed and cloudy.  The man's stomach has been torn open, and by the looks of it, most of the contents of his abdomen are missing.  His throat is likewise opened; the majority of the neck is missing, with the head barely remaining connected in any manner to the body.  Several of his fingers appear to be missing, and there are multiple other random chunks of flesh gone, with obvious bite marks around them. 

His body is not alone; several zombies lie scattered around the room, as well.

This was once a cozy little home.  The interior is now largely ruined; every surface is charred, and black soot drifts around the room.   On top of that, it appears that the house has been ransacked; the furniture is turned over, papers and odd belongings (or what is left of them) are scattered haphazardly. 

There is a second room, a simple bedchamber; the charring is not as extensive here, though it is clear that a flash fire rushed through the doorway at some point.  The bed itself is ripped open, feathers are spilled from the pillow and scattered around the room.  This room itself stinks of urine, with the smell seeming to be concentrated at the bed.  This room is also ransacked, with items strewn haphazardly about. 

The response has been something else!  Let me shoot you a PM, Avrielle.

I think you nailed the voice quite well.  And hey.. she's YOUR character now. 

Got a post up, myself.  As I shared with Eol, I've been looing forward to this closing for... oh, about two years. 

Stardate 2365.02.13
USS Peregrine, Bridge - 17:35

"Captain," Lieutenant Lasad spoke, "Starbase 118 has given us clearance to dock."

Finally, Drake mused.  It hadn't been lost on him that clearance had first been given to the Coronado some two hours ago.  The tiniest ghost of a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he considered that this all should have happened hours ago; apparently, someone had felt that some course and velocity changes were in order.  Jacobs was surely seething even more than usual.

"Very well," Silas spoke, looking around the bridge of the frigate for what felt utterly certain would be his final time to do so.  "Commander Zai, please complete docking procedures." 

In short order, it was done.  Almost immediately thereafter, Lasad spoke up again.  "Captain, we've been hailed again.  Commander Jennings has requested that you and Commander Zai meet with him at once."

No surprise there, Silas mused.  "Understood," he responded.  With a final glance around the bridge, Drake stood.  "Mister Lasad, you have the conn."  With that, he exited toward the turbolift.

------------------------------------------------

In the turbolift, Drake let his thoughts wander.  He had called a final dinner in the Officer's Mess the night before, but the mood had been somber - undoubtedly brought down by his own state of mind.  For a moment, his thoughts drifted to the nightmare, and a shiver ran down his spine. 

He elected to skip deck two; he had already packed up his meager personal possessions from both his cabin and ready room.  He would not bring the duffels and boxes at this point, thought surely someone else would handle his personal effects once he was in custody. 

Silas found himself desperately hoping that they would not replace Tochi as XO once he had himself been removed.  The Trill had such an excellent rapport with the crew; he would be invaluable to smoothing the transition for the next CO of the Peregrine.  Whether he believed it or not, the Helmsman would make a fine Captain himself... assuming his future commanding officers managed to stay on the right side of the regs.

All too soon, the pair found themselves on the gantry, with a small party waiting for their arrival.  Glancing at his companion, Silas spoke quiety.  "Thank you again, Tochi.  For everything.  May the wind forever be at your back."

And then, the time had arrived.  "Commander Silas Drake," spoke a red-uniformed human Captain with wavy black hair.  "I'm Captain Richards, in command of Starbase 118."  In his hand, he offered a PADD.  "I have orders from Admiralty.  You are hereby relieved of command of the USS Peregrine; your first officer, Lieutenant... er, Commander Zai is nominally in charge for the time being."  Three officers in Security gold stood behind him, and he glanced at Tochi.  "Commander, the Peregrine is ordered to undergo repair and refit at this time; please see to it that this is handled."

OOC: assuming Tochi complies..

As Richards spoke, Drake noticed that there was another small knot of people standing nearby.  One wore a blank expression and the gold of Security; the others were dressed in civillian attire, and seemed to be paying great attention to the conversation that Silas and the station brass were having.  One or two were speaking into recording devices.

"Commander Drake," Richards continued, I'm afraid that I have to ask you to come with us.  As he spoke, a sandy-haired human that Silas recognized as Commander Jennings, the station Security chief, strode toward him. 

Silas nodded.  "Of course, Captain."  As he spoke, Drake raised his wrists together in front of him.  "I am unarmed; I checked my sidearm in to the ship's armory already."

As Jennings reached for Silas, binders in hand, Richards cut his eyes at the group of civilians and spoke tersely.  "That will not be necessary, Jennings.  Put those away!"

The Security chief looked disappointed, but followed orders, instead grabbing Drake's left arm.  "Come with me, sir," he spat, but a loaded look from Richards caused him to drop his grip.  Silas fell in, with Richards and Jennings on either side, and the two officers behind.  As they walked away from the ship, Drake could pick up a snippet of the civilians' speech.

"....as they are now leading Commander Drake away..."

------------------------------------------------

The lack of solid sleep had started to get to him; Drake could have sworn that everyone’s eyes were on him as he was led through the Starbase corridors. At one point, the group walked through a common area, and he could have sworn that the holovids were broadcasting news items related to the Gamera peace summit. He even thought once that he heard his name mentioned, but when he looked up, all he could see was the greenish shape of the planet as the backdrop to Gamera station.

Drake was surprised to find himself being led down what felt like a residential hallway, as opposed to his expected destination of the Station brig. Soon enough, they were in front of a nondescript hatch.

“Commander, these will be your quarters for the time being, “Richards spoke. “You are under house arrest. Security will be stationed in this corridor; please do not attempt to leave your quarters without proper authorization. I will see to it that your effects are delivered to you within a timely manner.”

Confused at the turn of events, Drake stepped inside the apartment, and the hatch whooshed closed behind him.

Inside was a reasonably spacious suite, with a bed, a desk, and both a private head and personal replicator. A viewscreen was on the far wall, and was turned on to the FNN broadcast… and footage playing, showing himself being led away from the Peregrine. At the bottom of the display was bold white text with the caption, “DRAKE TAKEN INTO CUSTODY”, along with scrolling text beneath that raised pointed questions about the event.

As focused as he was on trying to make sense of the meaning of the holovid, Silas completely overlooked the wiry older man in the chair near the viewscreen until the latter took his feet.

Momentarily, Silas found himself face to face with a Vice Admiral. As Drake started to salute, the man sighed and shook his head. “Commander Silas Drake. What in the hell am I supposed to do with you?”