"Saboteur and spy" by Lieutenant jg T'Kang Chief Tactical Officer - USS Tempest http://come.to/tkang T'Kang came marching into security with the Yiridian in tow. The heads of the duty officers turned as the huge, grumpy Klingon man handled the frail old man and stopped just before them. "This man is to be placed in the brig." T'Kang grumbled some what boisterously. One of the security officers moved closer, looking at the pathetic looking old man as the other security officer like wise rose to his feet. "What seems to be the problem Lieutenant?" "This man is a saboteur and a spy." T'Kang stated boldly. The second security guard chuckled uncontrollably. This had to be a joke. "Him? A spy? Have you been beating yourself too often with that pain stick again Lieutenant?" T'Kang's expressing stiffened as if made of stone while he let out an annoyed growl, stating his disapproval at the officer's joke. The first officer activated his communicator badge. +taps+ "Chief, I have Lieutenant T'Kang out here with a old Yiridian gentleman, he wants the Yiridian detained in the brig." A moment later Lieutenant McQueen's voice was heard. +taps+ "I'll be right out." "Really is all of this necessary?" Merlund complained under T'Kang's iron grip he had to the back of the Yiridian's coat. "I mean really, I didn't do any of the things T'Kang is claiming I did." "Shut up old man." T'Kang growled back just as the Chief of Security stepped out from his office. "What is the meaning of this?" McQueen asked. T'Kang turned to face the Chief. "This man has been sabotaging the ship and is a spy from the Ferengi Consortium." the Klingon declared. "Those are serious charges Lieutenant." McQueen stated looking down at the frail Yiridian. "What have you got to say for yourself mister. . . ." "Merlund. I am innocent. I don't know where T'Kang gets these unfounded ideas from." the Yiridian complained, obviously uncomfortable at the near choke like hold T'Kang was keeping him in. McQueen turned and glanced at the Klingon. "T'Kang?" Holding out the satchel he'd taken from the Yiridian, T'Kang began explaining as McQueen opened the bag and peered at the items it contained. "I found him roaming the decks of the Tempest on deck twelve when I caught up with him. I asked him what he was up to and he acted very suspiciously. A short time later one of the gel packs erupted on the same deck. I'm convinced he caused it." "Nonsense! Why I have no idea what a bio gel pack is let alone. . . ." T'Kang yanked on the Yiridian's coat collar, choking him into silence. "This looks like a small polaron stream generator. And this, I'm not sure, possibly a small transmitter of some type." McQueen stated, taking out the small white box and looking at it in his hand, "And what do we have here?" The Chief opened the tiny pharmaceutical container to reveal several dozen tiny vials that contained an opaque blue liquid. At least a dozen vial were missing, oddly enough exactly the same number as the number of ruptured gel packs on the Tempest. "And what do we have here? Some sort of chemical substance? An illegal drug perhaps?" McQueen stated, extracting one of the small sealed vials and holding it up to the light. The Yiridian turned very pale all of the sudden, like his very life was in jeopardy. "BE CAREFUL WITH THAT!" he hissed weakly against T'Kang's firm grasp. The Yiridian's urgency was not lost in spite of his vocular restrictions. The Chief glanced at the old man, then carefully replaced the vial into the safety receptacle of the protective case before closing the small white box. Jogging his strong chin to the other security officers he ordered, "Go ahead and place mister Merlund into a cell until we get to the bottom of these charges gentleman." Both officers responded with a pair of "Yessir"s. T'Kang then released the Yiridian into their custody. "Thank you Chief." T'Kang nodded. "I'm going to take these things to have them examined by science and medical." McQueen stated motioning to the bag. "Do you think those vials contain narcotics?" T'Kang asked. He hadn't thought of the Yiridian as the drug type, though if there was profit in the smuggling of drugs the Klingon wouldn't put it past him. It did seem to surprise him though. "Possibly, though the way he reacted when I examined it makes me wonder. . . . Heck I have no idea what it could be. Maybe drugs, or a bio chemical explosive, maybe even a deadly virus. I'm sure our Doctors and Scientists will figure it out, along with these other things. Why would an old man like that want with a polaron stream generator?" T'kang shook his head at the Chief's rhetorical question. "Are you coming T'Kang?" McQueen asked motioning towards the door with the Yiridian's satchel. T'Kang shook his head. "No you go on Lieutenant. I want to view the recording the Yiridian gave me. It may have information we will find useful in our journey ahead." the Klingon explained holding up the isolinear chip. "You can use my office if you like." McQueen motioned with a thumb. T'Kang shook his head. "No, I would prefer to view the recording in privacy in my own office if it's all the same to you." T'Kang could tell by the Chief's reaction that his words had been taken the wrong way, like the Chief of Security's office in security was not good enough for the Klingon or something. He felt compelled to add, "It's supposed to be a recording from my father. . . ." "Ah, I understand. When you finish, report to the bridge so we can inform the Captain of what has happened." McQueen stated in a formal tone. "I will Lieutenant." T'Kang nodded. The two men then went their opposite ways. T'Kang held tightly to the chip as he walked back to his tactical office on deck two. He found himself anxious to know what secrets it contained. He knew that the Yiridian had said it was from his father, and that was impossible, since his father had died when he was a young man. But still he had though many things were impossible like being thrown 100 years into the future, and they had turned out to be true. The doors swished open and T'Kang marched into his office. Spinning the chair behind his desk around, he sat down. His hand rested tentatively above the isolinear chip slot as he took a deep breath and then slotted the chip. . . . ****** OOC: Next log, the recording from the future. . . . muhahahahaha!