Nicole Shea walked diffidently into Loomis' Get-It-All-Mart on Starbase 901's Promenade. This was the latest in several transactions she'd made at this shop. Some were simply routine purchases; others had a more clandestine purpose. This visit was in the latter category. She acted no differently, carried herself with neither overconfidence nor caution.
"Good afternoon, Nicole. What can we do for you today?" Eugene Loomis asked.
"I need boots, size 7," Nicole said. "I think you know my tastes."
The boots were not her size, but the phrase fit the one that had been preassigned. "I think we have just what you need," Eugene said as he led Nicole to the footwear department. He gave her a box containing the boots. Discreetly, Nicole slipped an isolinear data chip into his hand. "These are perfect!" she said.
They headed back to the register and Eugene took the payment for the boots. After she left the store, she opened the box and found the boots inside... with a credit chit for fifty bars of gold-pressed latinum.
The boots were simple work boots -- not particularly stylish, and the ones she had on were perfectly fine. Nicole spotted a charity bin outside the Bajoran temple and donated the boots, in their box. Transaction concluded until the next assignment.
Tarik and Loomis had lunch at a small, non-descript café on the station's commerce deck. The two men were known to be friends, so this aroused no suspicions in the Mulluran agent who'd been following Tarik for two days.
"I don't know how you can stand that stuff," Tarik told Loomis as he pointed at the coffee substitute the shopkeeper routinely drank for his nerves.
"Guess I got used to it," he said. "It's really not so bad. And I do occasionally drink the real stuff."
"Whatever," Tarik said. In reality he was glad that Eugene Loomis continued to maintain a mild-mannered persona despite having proven himself more than capable of dealing with trouble. The facade drew attention away from him, which was precisely why Tarik had used Loomis' shop as an information drop and turnkey operation.
"Maybe I should try it sometime," Tarik said.
"I just happen to have a packet here." Loomis reached into his pocket and withdrew a red packet.
"Thanks! I'll try it this afternoon. So, how are things with you and Lera?"
"Fantastic! I'm actually thinking of taking her back to New Omaha with me to visit the family, now that they're talking to me again."
"Do you think they'll accept her? Your home doesn't sound particularly accepting of non-humans."
"Quite frankly, it doesn't matter. If my parents don't want half-Bolian grandchildren, then that's their loss."
"Well put, my friend."
The two finished their meal. As Loomis left, he spotted the spy. The spy didn't have time to react before the shopkeeper knocked him out cold, stripped him naked, took his wallet, and administered a hypospray that would erase all memory of the past twenty-four hours. The clothes and an empty wallet joined the boots in the charity bin; the contents of the wallet would enter a collection plate at church the following Sunday. It wasn't Eugene's nature to exploit the situation for personal gain, after all.
The spy would wake up, yet another crime victim who couldn't dare report to Security. A rather irritated Mazar would report from the Mulluran embassy and permanently deal with the spy's incompetence.
Tarik returned to his office. He opened the red packet and, amongst the dark brown crystals of the coffee substitute concentrate, was an isolinear chip. He dusted it off carefully and plugged it into a PADD.
Data displayed on the PADD. Troop movements, timetables, even names and locations of key Mulluran agents.
One date in particular rang out at him. It was ten days from today. Immediately he sent a flash message to Starfleet Command.
Tarik replicated a cup of hot water and poured the coffee substitute crystals into it. Maybe it'll calm my nerves...
[And your data indicates that the invasion is to take place in ten days?] Brigadier General Lothar Schneider asked. General Schneider was commander of the 75th Marine Division and Tarik's immediate command authority.
"Yes, sir," Tarik replied. "My source is reliable. We've intercepted four Order Police cutters and sixteen slave runners in Federation space based upon his information." The source was a Mulluran army officer who had become disenchanted with the Francona regime and who had opted to stay in place as an information conduit rather than defect.
[What assets can we get into place?]
"The 28th MEF is ready for mobilization immediately. We've got the USS Ronin here at SB901 ready for deployment. The USS Greystoke and USS Flanders are in Ferengi space on a goodwill tour," Admiral Richard Wallace replied. "Given what the Mullurans are planning on sending in, we're outgunned three to one... the Ferengi and G'kra included."
Wallace pulled up a map. "I'll order redeployment of assets at Vulcan to SB901 and Ferenginar. I can get the heavy troop transport Patton and medical transport McCoy here within 48 hours."
"I have some... ah... unofficial resources that can be brought to bear as well," Tarik added.
[Bring them all in. We need to stop the Mullurans here and now,] Admiral Zultok replied. [I refuse to allow another Nausicaan debacle.]
Vork was preparing to close the lobby of the Ferengi embassy when a visitor appeared. A Vulcan, wearing full ceremonial robes. "We are closed for business. Come back tomorrow!" Vork said.
"I am not here on public business. I am here to see Ambasaddor Toreg on a very urgent matter," the visitor said.
"I said, we are closed! The Ambassador is not seeing anyone at this hour!"
"He will see me. Do I need to make a scene, Mr. Vork?" the visitor replied calmly.
Vork left the lobby and returned, with the ambassador.
"What is the idea behind all this? Don't you realize I have a very important business transaction to attend to?"
"The information I have is worth any amount of your time and all the latinum in the galaxy. If you will dismiss your assistant..."
The ambassador looked over at Vork. Vork left the office as Toreg escorted his visitor to an inner chamber.
"Is this facility secure?" the visitor asked.
"The damned Mullurans keep trying to plant bugs in here, but their eavesdropping technology is so primitive we spot them almost as soon as they're activated!"
"My own scans concur." The 'Vulcan' lowered his cowl.
"Colonel Tarik! Why did you not say it was you? A man of your means and payment history would not have had to wait for an appointment!"
"I am not here on Starfleet or Federation business. I am here strictly as an agent of my own affairs." Tarik said. "On this chip is information obtained through my own sources that may be of interest to your government." He passed the chip -- a copy -- to Toreg.
Toreg examined the contents. His jaw dropped. "Great gods of compound interest! I shall notify my superiors immediately! Some of these agents have access to the Grand Nagus himself!"
"I thought as much. I have presented this information to my own government as well. I do not know what action they will take. I wish I did by all that's holy, Toreg. But I wanted your people to be ready for what's coming."
"The Ferengi Alliance has never been conquered, my friend. We are not a warrior people like your own, or the Klingons, but underestimating us has proven dangerous."
"That much, I'm counting on."
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