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***This log has a few graphic references - reader discretion is advised***
Location: Caenis, Astate
"The Opening Salvo"
Water dripped steadily from leaky overhead pipes which crisscrossed the ceiling of a dilapidated warehouse that sat at the edge of Caenis. A few hungry rats scurried about between aisles of dusty supply crates as a steady rain tapped nosily on the thin roof of the old structure. Electric lights buzzed steadily high above as several men sat in a circle of supply crates playing poker to pass the time. A thin veil of smoke filled the warehouse as one of the men puffed on a replicated tobacco product throwing down a full house much to the dismay of his fellow associates.
Interrupting the game a loud voice cut through the warehouse. “What the hell am I paying you for”, a man said loudly staring at the card players with a cold gaze. “You aren’t here to play games!”
“Boss, its late, it’s raining, and there’s nothing better to do – are we just supposed to stand here”, one of the men asked rolling the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other.
“We’re paying you to protect our merchandise. Do you realize how many credits are sitting in this place?”
“Relax”, the man replied as another dealt a fresh hand of cards to the players. “We’re on top of things. Axel’s got the watch and its pouring rain. Starfleet and local security has their hands full with Romulan troubles right now – we have nothing to worry about.”
“That’s easy for you to say Wrexal”, the man shouted. “You aren’t responsible for ensuring the safe delivery of this cargo. Drugs, weapons, medical supplies – this is one of the largest shipments the Y’Kanazu has run through Astate. I’ll stop worrying once we get rid of all of this”, the man blurted waving to all the cargo containers.
Wrexal blew a cloud of smoke above him partially ignoring the man as he continued playing the card game. “Why don’t you go back to bean counting and leave the security to us ok?”
The man’s face turned red as he stood exasperated at the lack of professionalism his hired guns were displaying.
“When was the last time you checked the perimeter?”
“Half an hour ago. I told you...”
“Check it again! I’m not taking any chances!”
Wrexel muttered several profanities picking up a communicator.
“Axel this is Wrex, report status over?”
Static filled communications channel. Wrexel looked up at his employer who’s expression clearly showed his lack of faith by the sound of static over the speaker. “Axel, respond over.” “Axel?”
“Where is your sentry”, the man shouted pointing to the door. “Probably asleep or half drunk in a nearby bar for all I know! I didn’t hire you and your men to slack off!”
Wrexel stood throwing his hand down on the floor having taken as much verbal abuse as he was going to take in one night.
“Mitch, go find Axel and find out why the hell he isn’t answering. T’Aanik go with him.” The card game players stood all with annoyed expressions. Their employer was making a simple job far more difficult due to his extreme paranoia.
Suddenly the steel warehouse doors exploded in a shower of sparks and debris. Doors on all sides of the building were ripped apart by explosions as cans of gas were tossed in clanking loudly on the dusty concrete floor. The cigar in Wrexel’s mouth fell as he barely had time to shout ambush before disruptor beams tore through the clouds of smoke and dust sending showers of sparks in all directions.
The angry accountant who moments before was demanding his men check the perimeter shrieked in terror as he ran back toward his office slamming the door and locking it behind him. Cowering under his desk he prayed his men could handle the situation. Weapons fire sounded all around him cutting through the walls of his office, shattering glass and disintegrating furniture. Fumes from the gas canisters slowly crept into his office forcing the accountant to cover his mouth with a cloth to avoid detection. The man shook with fear as the weapons fire slowly subsided and the stopped. Several moments passed.
The tear gas began to clear and he could hear the indistinct sounds of movement from outside his office walls. Was it over? Had Wrexel taken care of their attackers? He was about to find out when powerful arms gripped his shoulders and dragged him out of the office. Armed men threw him to his knees and shoved a rifle into the base of his skull instructing him to remain still if he wished to live.
The man shook with terror as sat his arms behind his head on the dusty floor. Several yards away, Wrexel and his men also sat on their knees having also been overpowered by the unknown soldiers. Each had a weapon to their heads.
Voices permeated the silence as two men entered the warehouse from the ruined cargo doors which had been torn apart by high explosives. One was dressed in a finely tailored business suit, while the other was clad in an assault uniform which bore neither the markings of the Romulans, Starfleet, or the colony’s security forces. The businessman had a bandage above his left eye and walked with a slight limp.
“Who’s in charge here”, the businessman asked stopping in the center of the building flanked by dozens of armed troops. No answer was forthcoming from any of the subdued men.
The businessman grimaced at the lack of cooperation and motioned to one of the soldiers. Seconds later the body of one of the prisoners slumped to the ground as a pool of warm blood quickly formed around his slack face and neck.
“Over there”, Wrexel shouted seeing one of his men killed. “He’s the one you want!”
“Thank you”, the businessman replied stepping toward the shivering accountant.
“Let me introduce myself”, the businessman said curtly. “My name is Ailec Reltah, mercenary for hire.”
“Mercs? What...what do you want”, the accountant blurted out.
“Me? Oh the merchandise. I understand now. Why, I want nothing at all. I didn’t come here to steal all of this, whatever it is. ”
The accountant still shivering in fear managed a weak response.
“What? ”
“I don’t want your contraband. I have no interest in weapons or money – which I assume are in these crates. All I want is information.”
“Information? What kind of information?”
Reltah smiled his eyes glowing with malicious intent as he leaned over the quivering mass of man before him. “All I want are the names of the people who tried to kill me three days ago. I know you work for the Y’Kanazu. They ordered a hit and I want names. Start talking and I may spare your life.”
“I don’t know anything about that”, the accountant muttered. “I’m just a middleman for supplies, I don’t deal with such things.”
“WRONG ANSWER”, Reltah shouted. Seconds later another body was impaled before hitting the floor the man meeting a violent end by the sharp edge of a soldier’s blade.
The accountant shook in fear as he watched a second of his guards violently executed before his eyes. “I swear, I don’t know!”
“WAIT”, Wrexel shouted in a gruff voice unable to tolerate his men being killed one by one to cover for his pathetic employer. “Start talking Hammond. Me and my men aren’t going to die for the likes of you! Start flapping that jaw or else so help me I’ll rip it off myself!”
Reltah smiled at the turn of events. This gave him more leverage. “So, Mr. Hammond was it? I can let this gentlemen go, but there’s no guarantee he won’t be true to his word and in any event, I’m inclined to watch him rearrange your jaw. Now, I won’t ask again, who put out a contract and which men were responsible. Start talking NOW!”
Hammond nodded. The cold faces of the dead men staring back at him just a few feet away had convinced him.
“I..I don’t know all the specifics. I don’t know why the Y’Kanazu wanted you dead. I heard about the contract, but I didn’t have anything to do with it. I heard they hired some local talent some ex-military types – I think they were Romulan. That’s all I know I swear!”
“Who hired them and where can I find them”, Reltah demanded.
“I can’t, they’d kill me if they found out I talked.”
“I’m going to kill you if you don’t talk and that’s after a long slow round of torture, so which will it be Mr. Hammond? Must I soil my hands listening to your screams or will you take your chances with your employer? The decision is yours.”
Hammond’s face turned white as he looked up at the smug businessman. “The man’s name is Zerin, he arranged the hit. That’s all I know. I don’t know where to find him or how to reach him. Please, I swear that’s all I know.”
“Pathetic”, Reltah muttered stepping away from Hammond motioning for Reven to join him.
“Reltah”, Wrexel shouted from the floor. “I’ve heard of you before. I have no loyalty to this man. Me and my men would like to join you. We’re in need of work. We could be useful.”
Reltah stopped for a moment to consider the man’s words. “I don’t need local thugs on the payroll and in any event I just can’t trust you. Perhaps under different circumstances I might have considered your offer. I’m afraid you picked the wrong employer. It's nothing personal, I just can't have any loose ends.”
Wrexel opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced as the whine of disruptor fire eliminated all traces of the guards existence.
Reltah turned to Reven. “Burn the place to the ground. Make it flashy, I want lots of flames and media coverage. I want to send a message.”
“What about Hammond”, Reven asked. “Bring him.”
Reltah left the building as Hammond was pulled to his feet and dragged outside of the warehouse into the pouring rain. Reltah sat inside his limousine away from the rain as the Y’Kanazu employee was forcibly pulled back into his presence.
“Please don’t kill me”, the man begged. “I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Oh shut up”, Reltah shouted at the sniveling weasel before him.
“I’m not going to kill you. I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything! Name it, please.”
“I want you to tell your bosses who it was who destroyed this warehouse and their cargo. I’m sure they will be curious especially after such a loss. Let me guess 300 thousand credits worth of merchandise?”
“525 thousand”, Hammond muttered. “I can’t go back to them. I’ll be dead for sure. They’ll kill me for this outrage!”
“Impressive. The Y’Kanazu are bolder than I give them credit for attempting to move that much merchandise. But to the point Mr.Hammond, You will go back”, Reltah answered. “My men will be following you tonight. They’ll be there 24 hours a day until you report to your superiors and they tend to look for entertainment on long assignments. It would be quite tragic if you were to end up having a nasty and painful accident each and every day of your miserable little existence. You will return to the Y’Kanazu and you will tell them Ailec Reltah is not phased by their threats. Tell them to look over their shoulders and tell them I’m coming for them. I won’t stop until every last one of them on this rock is dead. No one threatens me in my own home. You tell them that word for word or else I’ll have every bone in your body broken by sunset tomorrow night. Good Evening Mr. Hammond.”
The limo door slammed shut and sped off into the stormy night as the soldiers that had flooded the warehouse suddenly vanished into the darkness from which they had spawned. Hammond stood in the driving rain petrified at what had just occurred.
A few moments later the warehouse behind him exploded in a violent burst of flame, color, and smoke knocking Hammond to the ground. Several moments passed as Hammond regained his footing his ears ringing loudly from the force and violence of the explosion. As the rain continued to fall Hammond watched in horror as thousands of credits of smuggled Y’Kanazu merchandise was consumed by fire. Despite the ringing in his ears he detected the approaching sounds of emergency personnel and quickly fled the scene looking over his shoulder terrified of Reltah’s threats. An early grave awaited him if he returned to the Y’Kanazu, but he was sure Reltah’s men would do the same to him if he tried to run. He was dead no matter which path he chose something the crafty businessman had no doubt planned from the beginning.
Location: Caenis, Astate
"The Opening Salvo"
Water dripped steadily from leaky overhead pipes which crisscrossed the ceiling of a dilapidated warehouse that sat at the edge of Caenis. A few hungry rats scurried about between aisles of dusty supply crates as a steady rain tapped nosily on the thin roof of the old structure. Electric lights buzzed steadily high above as several men sat in a circle of supply crates playing poker to pass the time. A thin veil of smoke filled the warehouse as one of the men puffed on a replicated tobacco product throwing down a full house much to the dismay of his fellow associates.
Interrupting the game a loud voice cut through the warehouse. “What the hell am I paying you for”, a man said loudly staring at the card players with a cold gaze. “You aren’t here to play games!”
“Boss, its late, it’s raining, and there’s nothing better to do – are we just supposed to stand here”, one of the men asked rolling the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other.
“We’re paying you to protect our merchandise. Do you realize how many credits are sitting in this place?”
“Relax”, the man replied as another dealt a fresh hand of cards to the players. “We’re on top of things. Axel’s got the watch and its pouring rain. Starfleet and local security has their hands full with Romulan troubles right now – we have nothing to worry about.”
“That’s easy for you to say Wrexal”, the man shouted. “You aren’t responsible for ensuring the safe delivery of this cargo. Drugs, weapons, medical supplies – this is one of the largest shipments the Y’Kanazu has run through Astate. I’ll stop worrying once we get rid of all of this”, the man blurted waving to all the cargo containers.
Wrexal blew a cloud of smoke above him partially ignoring the man as he continued playing the card game. “Why don’t you go back to bean counting and leave the security to us ok?”
The man’s face turned red as he stood exasperated at the lack of professionalism his hired guns were displaying.
“When was the last time you checked the perimeter?”
“Half an hour ago. I told you...”
“Check it again! I’m not taking any chances!”
Wrexel muttered several profanities picking up a communicator.
“Axel this is Wrex, report status over?”
Static filled communications channel. Wrexel looked up at his employer who’s expression clearly showed his lack of faith by the sound of static over the speaker. “Axel, respond over.” “Axel?”
“Where is your sentry”, the man shouted pointing to the door. “Probably asleep or half drunk in a nearby bar for all I know! I didn’t hire you and your men to slack off!”
Wrexel stood throwing his hand down on the floor having taken as much verbal abuse as he was going to take in one night.
“Mitch, go find Axel and find out why the hell he isn’t answering. T’Aanik go with him.” The card game players stood all with annoyed expressions. Their employer was making a simple job far more difficult due to his extreme paranoia.
Suddenly the steel warehouse doors exploded in a shower of sparks and debris. Doors on all sides of the building were ripped apart by explosions as cans of gas were tossed in clanking loudly on the dusty concrete floor. The cigar in Wrexel’s mouth fell as he barely had time to shout ambush before disruptor beams tore through the clouds of smoke and dust sending showers of sparks in all directions.
The angry accountant who moments before was demanding his men check the perimeter shrieked in terror as he ran back toward his office slamming the door and locking it behind him. Cowering under his desk he prayed his men could handle the situation. Weapons fire sounded all around him cutting through the walls of his office, shattering glass and disintegrating furniture. Fumes from the gas canisters slowly crept into his office forcing the accountant to cover his mouth with a cloth to avoid detection. The man shook with fear as the weapons fire slowly subsided and the stopped. Several moments passed.
The tear gas began to clear and he could hear the indistinct sounds of movement from outside his office walls. Was it over? Had Wrexel taken care of their attackers? He was about to find out when powerful arms gripped his shoulders and dragged him out of the office. Armed men threw him to his knees and shoved a rifle into the base of his skull instructing him to remain still if he wished to live.
The man shook with terror as sat his arms behind his head on the dusty floor. Several yards away, Wrexel and his men also sat on their knees having also been overpowered by the unknown soldiers. Each had a weapon to their heads.
Voices permeated the silence as two men entered the warehouse from the ruined cargo doors which had been torn apart by high explosives. One was dressed in a finely tailored business suit, while the other was clad in an assault uniform which bore neither the markings of the Romulans, Starfleet, or the colony’s security forces. The businessman had a bandage above his left eye and walked with a slight limp.
“Who’s in charge here”, the businessman asked stopping in the center of the building flanked by dozens of armed troops. No answer was forthcoming from any of the subdued men.
The businessman grimaced at the lack of cooperation and motioned to one of the soldiers. Seconds later the body of one of the prisoners slumped to the ground as a pool of warm blood quickly formed around his slack face and neck.
“Over there”, Wrexel shouted seeing one of his men killed. “He’s the one you want!”
“Thank you”, the businessman replied stepping toward the shivering accountant.
“Let me introduce myself”, the businessman said curtly. “My name is Ailec Reltah, mercenary for hire.”
“Mercs? What...what do you want”, the accountant blurted out.
“Me? Oh the merchandise. I understand now. Why, I want nothing at all. I didn’t come here to steal all of this, whatever it is. ”
The accountant still shivering in fear managed a weak response.
“What? ”
“I don’t want your contraband. I have no interest in weapons or money – which I assume are in these crates. All I want is information.”
“Information? What kind of information?”
Reltah smiled his eyes glowing with malicious intent as he leaned over the quivering mass of man before him. “All I want are the names of the people who tried to kill me three days ago. I know you work for the Y’Kanazu. They ordered a hit and I want names. Start talking and I may spare your life.”
“I don’t know anything about that”, the accountant muttered. “I’m just a middleman for supplies, I don’t deal with such things.”
“WRONG ANSWER”, Reltah shouted. Seconds later another body was impaled before hitting the floor the man meeting a violent end by the sharp edge of a soldier’s blade.
The accountant shook in fear as he watched a second of his guards violently executed before his eyes. “I swear, I don’t know!”
“WAIT”, Wrexel shouted in a gruff voice unable to tolerate his men being killed one by one to cover for his pathetic employer. “Start talking Hammond. Me and my men aren’t going to die for the likes of you! Start flapping that jaw or else so help me I’ll rip it off myself!”
Reltah smiled at the turn of events. This gave him more leverage. “So, Mr. Hammond was it? I can let this gentlemen go, but there’s no guarantee he won’t be true to his word and in any event, I’m inclined to watch him rearrange your jaw. Now, I won’t ask again, who put out a contract and which men were responsible. Start talking NOW!”
Hammond nodded. The cold faces of the dead men staring back at him just a few feet away had convinced him.
“I..I don’t know all the specifics. I don’t know why the Y’Kanazu wanted you dead. I heard about the contract, but I didn’t have anything to do with it. I heard they hired some local talent some ex-military types – I think they were Romulan. That’s all I know I swear!”
“Who hired them and where can I find them”, Reltah demanded.
“I can’t, they’d kill me if they found out I talked.”
“I’m going to kill you if you don’t talk and that’s after a long slow round of torture, so which will it be Mr. Hammond? Must I soil my hands listening to your screams or will you take your chances with your employer? The decision is yours.”
Hammond’s face turned white as he looked up at the smug businessman. “The man’s name is Zerin, he arranged the hit. That’s all I know. I don’t know where to find him or how to reach him. Please, I swear that’s all I know.”
“Pathetic”, Reltah muttered stepping away from Hammond motioning for Reven to join him.
“Reltah”, Wrexel shouted from the floor. “I’ve heard of you before. I have no loyalty to this man. Me and my men would like to join you. We’re in need of work. We could be useful.”
Reltah stopped for a moment to consider the man’s words. “I don’t need local thugs on the payroll and in any event I just can’t trust you. Perhaps under different circumstances I might have considered your offer. I’m afraid you picked the wrong employer. It's nothing personal, I just can't have any loose ends.”
Wrexel opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced as the whine of disruptor fire eliminated all traces of the guards existence.
Reltah turned to Reven. “Burn the place to the ground. Make it flashy, I want lots of flames and media coverage. I want to send a message.”
“What about Hammond”, Reven asked. “Bring him.”
Reltah left the building as Hammond was pulled to his feet and dragged outside of the warehouse into the pouring rain. Reltah sat inside his limousine away from the rain as the Y’Kanazu employee was forcibly pulled back into his presence.
“Please don’t kill me”, the man begged. “I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Oh shut up”, Reltah shouted at the sniveling weasel before him.
“I’m not going to kill you. I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything! Name it, please.”
“I want you to tell your bosses who it was who destroyed this warehouse and their cargo. I’m sure they will be curious especially after such a loss. Let me guess 300 thousand credits worth of merchandise?”
“525 thousand”, Hammond muttered. “I can’t go back to them. I’ll be dead for sure. They’ll kill me for this outrage!”
“Impressive. The Y’Kanazu are bolder than I give them credit for attempting to move that much merchandise. But to the point Mr.Hammond, You will go back”, Reltah answered. “My men will be following you tonight. They’ll be there 24 hours a day until you report to your superiors and they tend to look for entertainment on long assignments. It would be quite tragic if you were to end up having a nasty and painful accident each and every day of your miserable little existence. You will return to the Y’Kanazu and you will tell them Ailec Reltah is not phased by their threats. Tell them to look over their shoulders and tell them I’m coming for them. I won’t stop until every last one of them on this rock is dead. No one threatens me in my own home. You tell them that word for word or else I’ll have every bone in your body broken by sunset tomorrow night. Good Evening Mr. Hammond.”
The limo door slammed shut and sped off into the stormy night as the soldiers that had flooded the warehouse suddenly vanished into the darkness from which they had spawned. Hammond stood in the driving rain petrified at what had just occurred.
A few moments later the warehouse behind him exploded in a violent burst of flame, color, and smoke knocking Hammond to the ground. Several moments passed as Hammond regained his footing his ears ringing loudly from the force and violence of the explosion. As the rain continued to fall Hammond watched in horror as thousands of credits of smuggled Y’Kanazu merchandise was consumed by fire. Despite the ringing in his ears he detected the approaching sounds of emergency personnel and quickly fled the scene looking over his shoulder terrified of Reltah’s threats. An early grave awaited him if he returned to the Y’Kanazu, but he was sure Reltah’s men would do the same to him if he tried to run. He was dead no matter which path he chose something the crafty businessman had no doubt planned from the beginning.
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