((Ready Room, USS Gorkon))
Vondaryan: I ran an algorithm to detect any anomalous signals originating from the Gorkon at the same time as those messages.
Reynolds: ::She nodded, once.:: And you found something.
Vondaryan: Under a layer of distorted subspace. To space known to house the Orion Syndicate.
::He paused to take a sip of his tea, and to let the implications of his words take effect, though it drew almost no visible reaction from the woman sat opposite him. Perhaps a tiny glimmer in her eyes, though it was hard to discern if it was dismay, delight or something else entirely.::
Vondaryan: This is really quite excellent tea.
Reynolds: ::Mildly,:: Yes.
Vondaryan: Unfortunately, knowing the when and the where still didn’t give me the who.
Vondaryan: Being at a dead end on the Gorkon side of things, I approached it from the other aspect. Now that I knew where it was going and when, I reached out to one of my Orion Syndicate contacts. Well-paid ones, I might add.
::Not that well-paid contacts were necessarily more likely to be trusted. But they knew that if they gave false information the wellspring of money tended to dry up rather quickly. So it was in their own best interests to provide information that could be checked later.::
Vondaryan: They gave me a name. Bear.
::That did get a reaction. She smiled, a small noise that sounded suspiciously like amusement escaping with a huff air. A small alert sounded from her console, and she silenced it with a tap, not sparing the screen so much as a glance.::
Vondaryan: It took me a moment to process exactly who or what they meant. Then, like seeing the exact move needed to checkmate an opponent, it clicked. Orson Marshall. The Logistics and Comms Specialist. Former Ranger. And the First Officer’s brother.
Reynolds: Yes, I do know who he is, Commander.
::He finished the rest of his tea in a brief bit of silence, digesting both it and the information he’d given. He didn’t like the whole sordid business one bit. He wasn’t liking a lot of things, recently.::
Vondaryan: Then you know what we have to do.
::He ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath. Not a habit he typically employed, yet the circumstances seemed to warrant something new. Reynolds watched him, her head tilting ever-so-slightly to the side.::
Reynolds: Do I?
::Trellis looked up at the woman, eyes hard as stone. She was as well-trained in the arts of intelligence as he was; perhaps more so. She was as deeply versed in Federation laws and regulations as any Admiral in the fleet. The man had broken who-knew how many Federation laws. There were penalties for such actions. There were consequences for all actions, as Drennarlasic -- and later Newton on Earth -- had proven long ago. It was one of the fundamental aspects of life.::
Vondaryan: We have to arrest him. ::He gulped in a breath.:: Don’t we?
Reynolds: ::She raised her eyebrows.:: Big picture, Commander.
Vondaryan: So we start feeding him false information? Or turn him double agent? ::He tilted his head.:: Or would that be triple agent?
Reynolds: Something like that.
Vondaryan: And do we inform him about what we’re doing?
Vondaryan: So begins our counterintelligence. ::He feigned a smile. It most definitely did not reach his eyes.:: I was always good at propaganda.
Reynolds: For now, we wait. ::She paused.:: It's all about picking the right moment.
Vondaryan: And gathering more information in the meantime. I just hope no one does anything we’ll regret while we’re waiting.
::She acknowledged that with a small incline of her head, though it didn't seem to dampen her resolve in the least.::
Reynolds: Always a risk.
Vondaryan: If there’s nothing else?
::He stood up, hands clasped behind his back. It seemed to shatter the tension that had come to settle over them; the Admiral took a deep breath, sitting up straight, and offered him a thin smile.::
Reynolds: No, nothing for now. Thank you, for all your work.
Vondaryan: Of course, sir.
::He nodded to her as he left. There was now so much to do, yet so little.::
Lieutenant Commander Trellis Vondaryan