From within his newly-built stronghold, Vincent Kelly raged at the universe. Thwarted at every turn by the damnable Starfleet goody-goodies on Starbase 901! How many times had he tried to conquer them, and when that failed, to destroy them, and when that failed as well, to destroy this entire section of the Galaxy just so he could finally get his revenge.
But no. He had been beaten every time. And on several occasions had even been presumed dead by his enemies. Like the last time. Aided by Romulan dissidents and based on Nimbus III, he'd been raiding shipping lanes in the area. Starbase 901 sent the Sentinel to investigate and an intense firefight ensued at the outskirts of Paradise City. He'd been badly wounded and chose suicide instead of capture. The Sentinel returned to the Starbase, satisfied that their mission had been fulfilled, and Kelly's gamble had paid off.
He had gambled that the Starfleet doctor performing his autopsy wouldn't check for genetic drift, and so no one ever discovered that who had actually died on Nimbus III was merely a clone of Vince Kelly and not the man himself! Kelly chuckled evilly to himself. That had been a particularly clever ploy of his.
Behind him, he could hear the compartment door swing open on squeaky hinges, followed by three sets of footsteps. Turning, he casually inspected the trio that stood before him for a few long seconds, then a full minute, then more. The strange silence was uncomfortable for them -- exactly what Kelly intended. Finally, the tallest of the three, a grizzled old Klingon, could stand it no longer.
"What kind of human game is this, Kelly?" he growled in a typically raspy Klingon voice. "We designed and built this little hole for you to hide in. We've kept our part of the bargain. When do we get paid?"
Maintaining his casual, almost careless demeanor because he knew it would confuse his lackeys, he said, "Yes, you did. And you did a fine job of it too, may I say. All the little secret passageways and traps and other nasty surprises a man like me could ever wish for." He stepped around to the side of his desk and contemplated its smooth, bare surface for another few seconds during which the Klingon and his companions grew ever more agitated.
"I'm sure you all agree that secrecy is of the utmost importance. We can't have the existence of this little facility becoming common knowledge just yet. Are you getting my drift?" he asked amiably, yet a hard edge had entered Kelly's voice, and his eyes betrayed his dark thoughts.
The Klingon's smallest companion, a nervous, twitchy little Ferengi, practically squealed his protests of his and his partners' guileless intentions. "We'll never tell anyone about this place, Mister Kelly sir. You can trust us to keep absolutely quiet!"
"Oh, I know I can," replied Kelly. Shifting his left hand an inch to the right, he depressed a camouflaged contact on the desktop, and immediately a trap door sprung open beneath the feet of the doomed Klingon and his two hapless friends. They fell screaming into the darkness below. A splash of water could be heard, followed by beastly noises of gnashing teeth and roaring, more screaming, then dead silence. Kelly released the contact and the trap door swung back into place and locked. "Good thing I had the other contractors install that particular trap," he mused.
"Well, that takes care of that order of business," he said good-naturedly, seating himself behind the desk. "Let's see… Who's next? Ah yes."
Touching another contact, he addressed an unseen microphone. "Dunk, please show mister Shmaltz in." Moments later, the door creaked open again, this time admitting a bedraggled Yridian.
"Mister Shmaltz, do you have the protomatter you promised to deliver?"
"Yes, mister Kelly, it's being moved to your labs as we speak," replied Shmaltz nervously, wringing his hands.
"Excellent. Why so uneasy, Shmaltz? asked Kelly, having noted the Yridian's obvious discomfort.
"It's just that…" began the alien, then faltered, unsure for a moment if he should continue, but in the end his conscience won out, forcing his misgivings from his lips. "I know what protomatter can be used for, and after seeing your operations here, I'm sure that's what it will be used for. Had I known…" Again he faltered, but this time Kelly took up the dialog.
"Yes, you're right, of course. We're building a very big bomb. I have a payment in mind that will quell your troubled conscience however," crooned Kelly.
"You insult me, sir!" complained the indignant Yridian. "I'll have you know--" But he never got to finish that sentence, for the floor dropped out from under him at that moment and he found himself falling into darkness towards waiting teeth.
After listening to another serenade of screams, Kelly released the contact allowing the trapdoor to click shut once again. "Let see… Who's next?"
<<< OOC: Kelly's 'death' occurred in Starbase 901 episode 740. If you're feeling ambitious you can read #735-740. LINK >>>
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