All warfare is based on deception
Therefore, when capable, feign incapacity; when active, inactivity.
When near, make it appear that you are far aay; when far away, that you are near.
Offer the enemy a bait to lure him; feign disorder and strike him.
When he concentrates, prepare against him; where he is strong, avoid him.
Anger his general and confuse him.
Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance.
Keep him under a strain and wear him down.
When he is united, divide him.
Attack when he is unprepared; sally out when he does not expect you.
These are the strategist's keys to victory.--Sun Tzu, The Art of War
"Marines, our mission parameters have changed once again!" Tarik announced to the platoon amdist their groans of frustration. "Our YF-6100 Banshee fighter has gone down over the B'aku world and its pilot, Lieutenant Maxine Vasser, is missing. It is believed that a Son'a craft or ground crew brought down the fighter; our mission is to locate and secure the wreckage and Ms. Vasser!
"We will beam down here," Tairk said, indicating a holographic map. "The area is dense jungle, almost on the direct opposite side of the planet from the B'aku setlement. Preliminary analysis of the Banshee's telemetry feed indicates that the plane went down within 150 meters of this location, although the planetary energy field and the jungle growth are interfering with our detection of Ms. Vasser's rescue transponder. Our task is simple: get in, locate Ms. Vasser, secure the wreckage for salvage, and beam out!
"Of course I don't need to remind you that locating our lost pilot is top priority. If she's alive, we get her out. If she's hurt, we'll treat her. If otherwise...we'll make sure whoever did this answers to her in the next life!
"All right, troopers! You know the drill! Tarik to Transporter--seventeen to beam out!"
The Marines let out a resounding HOO-RAH! as they dematerialized....
...and materialized on the planet's surface. A huge swath of overgrowth was chewed out of the jungle canopy. Tarik scanned with his tricorder.
"The Banshee is to the southwest, approximately 700 meters from here, mostly intact," Tarik said into his communicator circuit.
[Very good,] Wallace replied. [We'll be passing out of communications range for you in approximately three minutes. You should hear from us again eighty-three minutes after that point. Be prepared for recall at that time, Major. Things are heating up around the B'aku settlement--Security is reporting combat action--and protecting civilian lives is our top priority!]
A lot can happen in eighty-three minutes--both to us and to the village, Tarik thought. "Acknowledged, Captain. Landing party out."
They proceeded through the jungle, finding little in the way of animal life to trouble them. All of the animals in that particular area had either been scared off or killed when the Banshee crashed. Even so, Tarik could still hear the rustlings of a few of the bolder predators and scavengers in the area.
"Tzil'ka, are you picking up anything?" Tarik asked his sergeant.
"Nothing on the tricorder, but I'm sure smelling something!" The veh'Khanim had an extremely acute sense of smell, a holdover from the days when their ancestors also roamed jungles.
"Keep me posted--aaagh! Dammit!" Tarik said as he tripped over a piece of wreckage. It was a strut of some kind, about 150 centimeters long. More metal pieces littered the jungle floor along their path.
"Let's pick it up, people! Our plane and our lady are this way!"
As Tarik said that, he couldn't help but think of his lady, who was still recovering in Sickbay. Kassia had been through a lot--far more than most Starfleet officers in general or counselors in particular ever encounter in the course of a career. And she dealt with it with such tenacity that Tarik was sure that she would fully recover. Even so, Tarik was still very concerned. An event like this has a tendency to bring up other traumatic events, and from what Troy's told me she's had more than her share. And how the hell am I going to explain this to him??? He'll likely have me out an airlock, and I don't blame him!
Tarik remembered an old Vulcan healing technique he had once observed as a child and read about years later in the Academy; essentially it was an assisted mind-meld. It might work for her, but I don't see any Vulcan healers in the nearest thousand light-years or so. Does Garek have the ability to pull it off? Or should I send for a healer? The expense in both retaining and transporting a healer to an outpost such as SB901 was considerable, but Tarik had inherited a fairly wealthy estate when his parents were killed. Even at that, he would have dearly put a lien against his pay for the rest of his career to help Kassia...and then turned mercenary to cover the rest. Maybe I should ask Garek first.
The wrecked fighter sat in a self-made clearing before them, badly damaged but otherwise intact. "Okay; objective one is complete! Fan out and start searching for our pilot!" Tarik ordered. "Stay in comm range!"
As the platoon began searching the jungle for Maxine, Tarik examined the wrecked Banshee. The warp core was still in place; though badly damaged, the impulse engines were salvageable. Avionics, computer systems, weapons look good...it looks as though she was in a bit of a fight, though, Tarik thought. E&E equipment's gone, which means she made it out of here on her own. The phaser bank is depleted and there's a pretty good shot to the starboard fuselage. No telling what brought her down, but whatever it was meant to be taken seriously!
Tarik's thoughts were interrupted by phaser fire. "Fall back! Platoon, fall back to the crash site!" Tarik ordered over the all-hands circuit. His helmet display showed all but three of his Marines were dropping back to the Banshee.
They quickly set up a pincushion defense, using the wrecked figher for cover. Several Son'a emerged from the jungle, Maxine bound in front of them.
"Put down your weapons and leave this place, and I may let her live!" the Son'a in command of the detail ordered, holding a disruptor to Maxine. Maxine looked pretty beat up, but how much of that was from the crash and how much from the Son'a was anyone's guess.
"Don't do it, Tarik!" Maxine yelled. "I'd rather die first!!!"
"You underestimate our resolve," Tarik replied. "I rather concur with the lady. We have no intentions of going anywhere. And," he said, once again lying through his teeth, "in about ten minutes our ship will be over this site, with four more fighters just like this one...and an entire company of Marines to relieve us! Do you want to take that risk?"
"You lie, Starfleet! The ship you have in orbit could barely hold this fighter!"
Caught! It had to happen sooner or later... Then, very quickly, Tarik had an idea.
"All right, you win. But consider this: the prisoner you have is only a lieutenant--a fairly low rank amongst our services. I outrank her greatly, and have a higher security clearance. I will exchange myself for her; you'll find me a much better bargaining chip. And, you can keep the plane, too! Just let your prisoner and my men return to our ship when it passes overhead in twenty minutes. I'll get you an audience with the Captain and you can discuss formal terms with him."
Tarik was relying on the tremendous Son'a ego--these guys make Klingons look humble! he thought--and certain rumors about Vasser's esper ability. While not nearly as strong as Kassia's, or most other true telepaths, Maxine Vasser was rumored to be able to guess intentions with uncanny accuracy.
If she knew what Tarik had in mind, she didn't let on. "Major, what the hell are you doing???" Maxine yelled.
"Trust me, Lieutenant; I know how to deal with this," Tarik said as he put down his weapons and began removing his armor.
"Sir, I must concur with Lieutenant Vasser--is this the wisest course of action?" Tzil'ka asked.
"Sergeant, the platoon's yours. Report to Captain Wallace everything that's happened here." Tarik ordered.
The Son'a leader was stunned. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
"On this matter I'm absolutely serious. You have our pilot, and three of my men haven't checked back in. Release our prisoners, and you've got me."
The Son'a leader barked an order. Maxine was thrown into the clearing next to the plane. Moments later, three wounded Marines were drug out of the jungle and tossed into the clearing next to her. A corpsman rushed up to the area with a tricorder and began treating the group.
"All right, you've made good on your deal, now I'll make good on mine!" Tarik said as he walked over toward the Son'a.
The Son'a leader laughed. "I never thought it would be this easy!" he said as one of his men pulled Tarik's arms behind his back to be tied.
Tarik whipped his arm around, taking the Son'a lackey with it--and wrapped the rope around the Son'a's neck and strangled him. "Platoon--open fire!" he yelled, retrieving the now-dead Son'a's disruptor and diving for cover.
The bluff worked spectacularly! The Son'a were caught completely off guard and didn't stand a chance. The Son'a leader rushed Tarik and grappled with him!
"You lied!!!" he yelled.
"What the hell did you expect?" Tarik responded as he belted the Son'a across the chin.
The Marine platoon pressed its advantage and began pursuing the Son'a into the jungle. Several Son'a lay dead or wounded, but Tarik was in no position to make a count. He was still busy exchanging blows with the Son'a leader. The Son'a got in a good right hook to Tarik, then tried to leg sweep him. Tarik responded by rolling back and coming back up into a fighting stance. "You want it--come and get it!" he yelled. The Son'a attempted to pull a knife when a low-power phaser hit him in the shoulder.
"Play fair, or don't play at all," a now-healed Maxine said, brandishing a phaser. Four Marines, finished with their own fight, surrounded the Son'a leader. He dropped the knife.
The final tally was seven Son'a and one Marine dead; four Son'a and two Marines wounded. "Tarik to Arizona--we've located Lieutenant Vasser and we have more prisoners for beam-up. The area is secure for salvage crew!"
[Acknowledged. Prepare for transport!]
"Major, has anyone told you you are the craziest son of a bitch alive?" Maxine asked, laughing.
"Frequently, ma'am, and I'll ask you not to speak of my mother that way," Tarik said as the transporter beam embraced the group.