SIM:Wolf, Tristan/AB 45 Disaster

At Odds, Again

This SIM, one of the first in the massive Alpha Base 45 joint plot, begins the fight between Demma and Wolf, as the Admiral finds out that Demma is looking into the events which occured at AB45. ::Tongue in cheek, the Admiral sits looking out at the stars from his office in the towers of the StarBase. Pushing his foot back and forth, his chair swivels slowly left-to-right and back again. Finally, after making himself slightly nauseous, Wolf stops, swings the chair to face his desk and puts his arms on the surface:: WOLF: ::muttering:: Alright Demma, you want a fight... ::Tapping the desk quickly, the Admiral moves through the external communications protocol and hails the USS Nemesis, priority 1 transmission. A com office, looking young and Bajoran on the screen, answers:: NEMESIS: This is the USS Nemesis -- Admiral Wolf... WOLF: Get me Captain Demma, pronto. NEMESIS: Aye, Admiral... ::There is a pause, and the logo of the Nemesis flashes onscreen. A little more than a minute later, Captain Demma arrives onscreen:: WOLF: ::Looking down at his desk:: My records say you're supposed to be en route to StarBase 251. Right now you're no where near that location. ::Putting on as cordial a face as he can gather, Wolf finishes:: What are you doing? DEMMA: Well Admiral, since I'm in charge of this ship and we aren't currently under any specific assignment, I don't see where I should answer you, BUT since I know you'll just insist on an answer I'll give you one. ::Wolf's eyeslids narrow to small slits as a low, deep growl rumbles from deep in his chest:: WOLF: I hope you're not talking to me, CAPTAIN Demma, because you'd be sorely mistaken. You, and your ship, are under the jurisdiction as long as it is posted to this StarBase. ::Demma, pauses, considers, and replies:: DEMMA: While en route from Qo'Nos to SB251, we were attacked by the Breen. We managed to deal with that situation and resume course, when we picked up a faint distress signal originating from the Daris Colony. Once we arrived there, we found no signs of life, but we picked up an ion trial and are following it. THERE, are you answered? WOLF: The situation has been resolved Captain Demma. You need to turn your ship around and head to StarBase 251, as scheduled. DEMMA: I'm sorry Admiral, I can't do that. StarFleet's standing orders state that any distress call must be investigated. Since doing so I found that no one was there, I have to investigate the reason no one was there. ::Breathing deeply, the Admiral sits back in his chair and stares at Captain Demma, sizing him up slowly. He looks away for a few moments, face serene, before he looks back to Demma. He breathes again, wets his lips and responds:: WOLF: You have your orders Demma. DEMMA: I see Admiral. Then, I will proceed with caution. Demma and Nemesis out. ::The communication link closes. Wolf, a man prone to violent mood swings from one end of the emotional continuum to the other, still sits lounged in the high-backed executive chair. On one hand his face rests, while the other sits in his lap. Looking complacent for a few moments, the admiral stares at the wall, mind full of thoughts rushing from one synapsis toanother as the man contemplates his next move:: ::Sitting up, Wolf puts his elbows on to the desk and calls up Captain Lysander, who is in the command center:: WOLF: =/\= Please report to my office immediately. =/\= LYSANDER: =/\= Understood Admiral, I will be there momentarily. =/\= ::Wolf waits patiently. After a few moments, his door chimes and he lets the good Captain enter, instructing him to sit:: WOLF: Captain Demma has chosen to ... put his career at risk by ... needlessly investigating the Alpha-Base location. Therefore, we have some tasks to carry out. I -- ::The admiral is interrupted by the chime of an incoming message from one of his secretaries. Wolf touches his desk to allow the woman to speak. Her high, whiny voice can be heard from the speakers on the display on the admiral's desk:: SECRETARY: Admiral, we are receiving a transmission from the Nemesis. It is from the first officer aboard that vessel. WOLF: Put it through please. ::Wolf looks to his display and reads quickly, scanning the contents. Malcolm sits, meanwhile, quiet and drawn inward:: WOLF: Well, at least some people in StarFleet still follow protocol. Seems Commander Falcon will still have a position in _this_ military organization at the end of the day... ::The admiral smiles smugly to himself, satisfied that his is still in the position of power in this situation. He looks back to Captain Lysander:: WOLF: You are to head a mission to apprehend Captain Demma. I am hereby placing him under arrest for violating the order of a superior officer. The Phoenix is at your disposal. You are dismissed.

Preparations

Wolf has ordered Captain Lysander to persue Demma. In this SIM, he is making plans for the Kodiak and the Magellan, to ships still following orders from the Admiral, to meet near AB45. ::Wolf stands with his hands clasped behind his back, looking out into space. His secretary, an annoying five foot-eleven terran woman with a nasally voice, is seated in front of his desk, PADD and stylus in hand. Lately, the Admiral had been relying on her, and the other secretary, more than he had ever relied on an assistant in his life. With the Cardassian-Romulan chaos, and the efforts to remove the great Admiral himself from his throne, he had to keep watch on everything he could. Which meant more than just a well-trained computer program:: WOLF: Schedule that dinner with Admiral Hoffman tomorrow night, somewhere nice in the commercial sector. I haven't seen him in a few weeks. VILAS: Understood Admiral... and what of LoGrasso? WOLF: Mm, tell her I'm too busy for dinner, but that I'll take a raincheck, on Earth, in a month or so. VILAS: Okay Admiral. And what would you have me do with the Nemesis business? WOLF: You've checked on the status of the Magellan? VILAS: Captain Lang sends his word that he will follow orders. WOLF: Good, good... how far along is the Phoenix? VILAS: They're about eight hours from Alpha-Base, sir... ::Wolf nods his head, continuing to look out into space. Vilas shifts a little uneasily, wondering just what the Admiral was thinking. Vilas cocks her head for a moment, presses the communicator set in her ear a little, then looks up:: VILAS: Admiral, Ling has notified me that the Kodiak has reported in. .oO Aah Ling... Oo. ::Pausing for a moment, and smiling a private grin, Wolf pictures the beautiful Asian woman:: .oO Now SHE is a secretary... Oo. ::Blinking, Wolf answers:: WOLF: So? VILAS: They're just a few hours from the Alpha-Base, Admiral, they may be of help to the Phoenix. WOLF: Good thinking Vilas! ::Turning around, the Admiral gives her a big grin, swinging his fist happily:: WOLF: Tell Ling to contact the Kodiak and Magellan, give them the coordinates of the Phoenix, and have them all meet up about ... say, an hour from the Alpha-Base. VILAS: Very good Admiral. Is that all? WOLF: Yes, yes it is. ::Vilas stands up, pulling her short skirt down a little and smiling at the Admiral as she saunters out. Sneering, he looks down at his desk, presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, then looks up again as he presses a button on the desktop:: WOLF: =/\= Vilas... =/\= VILAS: =/\= Yes Admiral? =/\= WOLF: =/\= Patch me through to The Circle... =/\= ::There is a pause as Vilas, no doubt, shifts uneasily again. The Circle, a group of highly ranked Admirals, all connected by rank and background. Wolf had just been accepted into the highly secretive group a few weeks previous, and had been conducting business with them regularly. The two secretaries knew little to nothing, by Wolf's will, of what he talked about with The Circle, or exactly what business he conducted. All they knew is that he talked to the members of The Circle often, and under the direction that the line be highly private:: VILAS: =/\= Yes Admiral, I will contact the group immediately... =/\=

Bad News

Captain Lysander reports in to break the news that there has been a survivor from Alpha-Base 45. Wolf consults The Circle. ::Captain Lysander's face onscreen is already approaching the description "Haggard". Wolf shows little sympathy. He has been through worse:: WOLF: Continue, Captain... LYSANDER: The Hammond then warped away from the scene. Reports from an insider on the Nemesis say they found a survivor on the planet, and the Hammond was taking the survivor away, to ensure his survival. The Nemesis is alive with rumors that we are on scene to start a fight... ::Admiral Wolf's face snaps up, his eyes afire:: WOLF: A survivor?! ::Leaning forward, the Admiral narrows his eyes:: WOLF: How could their possibly be an f'ing survivor? You said you destroyed the base, fully. ::The captain squirms a bit uncomfortably:: LYSANDER: I'm not really sure Admiral -- WOLF: ::Throwing his hands into the air:: You're not sure! We'll that's juuuust great isn't it? How convenient Lysander. You're "not sure." LYSANDER: Admiral, even if the guy makes it out alive, what can he tell them? WOLF: What can he tell him?! Howabout: everything! LYSANDER: Admiral, you said yourself, many other Admirals were involved in this. It's not like the operation was exactly a secret. WOLF: Do you presume to know my business, Captain? The Alpha-Base 45 compound, and all of it's workings and inhabitants, was highly classified. Period. LYSANDER: If that's the case, then the survivor would know to keep his mouth shut. WOLF: Well, I hope for your sake that he does. LYSANDER: Understood Admiral. Further orders? ::Wolf takes a moment to breath, bringing himself down from a rage at Lysander's incompetence:: WOLF: I have... conferred, with the StarFleet diplomatic corp. If Demma does not surrender without a fight by oh-hundred hours the day after tomorrow, your orders are to board the vessel. LYSANDER: But what of the law, all that b-s about foreign dignitaries? WOLF: It is overridden. StarFleet refuses to wait for another week, month, however long the Shilony stay holed up on that ship, waiting for payment, to get their ship back. That's a sovereign class ship, Captain, and it's under the command of a criminal. We don't want it to go out of your sight with Demma on it. Is that understood? LYSANDER: Yes, Admiral. I hope it won't come to that though, if everything goes to plan, the Shilony will be contacting you about payment, in place of Demma. WOLF: You will receive a transmission in a few hours with the program for the necessary authorization PADDs for those orders. Be sure to pass them onto the marines, the Kodiak, and the Magellan. As for the Shilony, I will take care of them. LYSANDER: I will have my people standing by for the authorizations. One last thing Admiral, just so you know, Demma has agreed to surrender to Rear Admirals Marlin or Randor. WOLF: ::Stroking his chin:: He is under no authority to set terms. Tell him that. LYSANDER: Aye, Admiral. WOLF: Good, good. ::Sitting up in his chair:: Keep up the good work Captain; Wolf out. ::The communication cuts, and the UFOP symbols shows on screen. Vice Admiral Numini Siemens and Rear Admiral Stephen Timber, both members of The Circle, are seated in Wolf's office. The two, like a pair of snakes, grin slyly. Timber is a tall, thin man with a balding head of wispy gray hair. His record of service is full of honors and medals. His history of crossing the t's and dotting the i's exactly as the book dictates has helped him rise up through the ranks just as fast as Wolf once did. Siemens, on the other hand, is a short round woman with a chubby face and pale, blue eyes. Her record of service is boring; no more than commanding remote listening outposts, to a few colonies here and there. In her old age, her long hair had begun to gray, but has now been dyed a jet black to make her look younger. The wrinkles in her face, and the viens in the back of her hands speak otherwise. Her big break was being given the command of Utopia Planatia, where she managed to fast track a number of extremely powerful ship designes, including the Defiant. StarFleet thanked her with rank. She may very well have been one of the deciding factors in the Dominion war. While not pretty, she had a head for ship design:: WOLF: Things are going well. I expect that your survivor will not talk. TIMBER: He won't. If he knows what's good for him, he won't. SIEMENS: I wouldn't be so sure... if he is lured into thinking that he is protected on the Hammond... WOLF: No matter. This will all be over in just a few days. SIEMENS: I would think it wise to heed the words of Lysander in regards to Rear Admiral Marlin. He serves on this base, does he not? WOLF: Yes, no doubt the reason why Demma knows him at all. He and I are acquaintances... we have to work together a lot... TIMBER: I would have to agree with Nu, perhaps bringing Marlin into this would not be a bad idea at all. The faster this situation is resolved, and Demma is in hard at work at a labor camp, the better. ::Wolf's head rests in one hand, which is leaning on his desk. Closing his eyes for a moment, his thoughts clear and he analyzes the situation with exact preciseness. Marlin will follow orders, no matter what... perhaps it would be a good idea.:: WOLF: You're right of course. SIEMENS: I know. TIMBER: Of course. ::Tapping his desk in a quick spurt of activity, the Admiral directs his secretary to patch him through to the USS Indria - A.:: WOLF: Marlin is commanding the Indria at the moment on some inane medical supply mission or something ::waving his hand dissmissively in the air:: He'll have no problem diverting for a few days, I'm sure. SIEMENS: He can be trusted, we assume. WOLF: Yes, he's like you Timber, always following the rules. TIMBER: Sometimes Wolf, following the rules is not bad. Your habit of bending the rules until they break tends to get you into trouble. Need I remind you ... ::his voice trails off:: SIEMENS: ::Taking the chance to twist the knife:: Of the Borg incident? ::The two chuckle giddily, Siemen's fat jiggling up and down wildly. Her meaty hand goes to cover her mouth as she slaps her knee, then knudges Timber. Wolf sneers:: WOLF: ::Sighing:: Must we keep remembering the past, my dear friends? TIMBER: But it was so... choice, my dear Wolf. ::Burst of laughter:: ::The Borg incident had become an inside joke in The Circle. Wolf's project had been a complete flop, and in the end, Captain Jolon had pinned him to the ground and demanded answers as to exactly what was going on. The recorded files of that little scene were passed around many times. Wolf had gotten off the hook of course, but none-the-less, it was still a blunder. And one he now paid dearly for in jest:: ::The computer screen finally lights, with the face of Rear Admiral Marlin smiling happily at Wolf:: MARLIN: Yes, Admiral? WOLF: I'm afraid you're going to have to divert your attention for a few days, Shaun. We have a bit of a situation at the Alpha-Base 45 site. ::Marlin had been brought into the loop on the project just recently, after the destruction of the base. He was on a need-to-know basis however, quite unlike Timber, Siemens, Denack, and numerous others, who had engineered the program:: ::The Rear Admiral's face sags a little, as he requests an explination:: WOLF: Captain Demma disobeyed orders, and investigated where he shouldn't have. I will forward you all the necessary information. Basically, we have the Kodiak, Magellan, and most notably the Phoenix in command of Captain Lysander, at the Nemesis' location, waiting to arrest Demma for not following his orders. He has refused, unless he can speak to you or Randor. You're closer... only about 18 hours or so. You should know that O'Malley is with him. O'Malley is in a bit of trouble himself, but I've decided not to put him up for a court-martial this time. ::Sighing, Marlin nods:: WOLF: I will send the coordinates, etc., etc. ::waving his hand in the air in a circular motion:: You know the drill. Do whatever it takes to stop this without a fight. MARLIN: Understood, Admiral. WOLF: Wolf out. ::Wolf leans forward over the desk and smiles at the two Admirals:: WOLF: Lunch? SIEMENS: It's about time... TIMBER: Charming as always Nu. SIEMENS: ::Smacking Timber:: We've been here for an hour, at least... ::The three stand, and joke with eachother as they board the turbolift for the commercial sector of the base::

Kidnapped!

Plucked from the StarBase, Wolf soon finds himself in the hands of David Jerrin, an ex-StarFleet officer bent on torturing the Admiral to find out just why he destroyed AB 45. WOLF: Nothing but a fool... ::Mustering up all the last, dusty remains of telepathy in his mind, the Admiral struggles to send some kind of call to anyone looking for him. He thinks it unsuccessful. A few moments later Jerrin swears quietly as he reads his computer, seeing a fleet of ships on his tail. A concidence, the Admiral knows, and nothing more. Jerrin turns to Wolf, then laughs:: JERRIN: Don't get your hopes up. We're only 20 minutes from the Discontinuity and they won't overtake us for at least 30 minutes. I told you they'd be too late. ::Wolf barely flickers an eye. Jerrin was indeed a fool. He had just kidnapped the most powerful man in the sector, perhaps within five sectors. And he thought he could get away with it... The smirk on Wolf's face quickly becomes a hidden grin, and then he has to hold back from laughing at the idiocy of it all. Poor Jerrin...:: ::Jerrin, meanwhile, continues to hold back his own giddiness at the chance to poke and prod Wolf with all his little tools of torture. Wolf manages to pull the suit on, regardless of the fact that he is restrained:: JERRIN: Well, here we are. The Golden Discontinuity and your destiny. WOLF: We'll just see about that... JERRIN: You know I have a friend there who you should remember. She's been waiting for a long time. ::The two, a few minutes later, are struggling across a barren asteroid. Wolf trips and falls many times, hindered by the restrains, but is pulled roughly to his feet by Jerrin. Finally, the trip is over, and the two step inside a warm, inviting ship:: WOMAN: It took you long enough Jerrin. JERRIN: I had a little, err distraction on the StarBase. Had to do the universe a favor and get rid of a few Breen. ::The woman steps from the shadows as Wolf's face drains of color:: .oO My god... it could certainly be her! The hair, the eyes... just shades off... Oo. JERRIN: I see you remember our friend here. Just for the heck of it let me introduce you. Maela Jolon, Admiral Wolf. ::The act begins:: JOLON: Ah! You thought I was dead. Sorry to disapoint you, Admiral. If you will follow me, David. ::She gave a half nod towards the and Jerrin gave Wolf a shove to guide him along. The ship was relatively compact and it was only moments till they reached a proportionately large room with a table and two chairs in the center and two brig cells on either side.:: JOLON: Have a seat, Admiral. You must be weary from your space walk. ::Wolf approached the chair, Jerrin set him off balance and Wolf thumped ungracefully into it. Jolon proceeds to bat Wolf between her paws, like a cat and mouse for more than 10 minutes, finally showing him just a little of the power of this vessel. He endures the pain as best he can:: ::Jerrin is next at bat, and takes a few minutes to scream, hit, and slap like a little girl. Wolf finally gives the signal, and Jolon moves in. In an explosion of lights, Jerrin is thrown across the room, left a heap of smoking flesh, drooling and ready to obey Jolon's every command:: ::Wolf finally struggles to his feet, sneering at Jolon a little:: JOLON: Like I said, many surprises. ::She gestured towards his nose and gave a fake look of guilt.:: What can I say, I needed to look convincing. ::motioning to gloves:: I like functional clothing. ::She glances at Jerrin:: JOLON: His mother must not have taught him not to do dealings with strangers. ::Smiling, she uses a small silver device to cut off Wolf's cuffs. Wolf rubs his wrists a little as Jolon pulls off the auburn wig, and extends her hand to the Admiral.:: WOMAN: We meet at last, Tristan. ::He took her hand and she shook it firmly holding it a few moments longer than was necessary.:: You may call me Gentarra. ::She looks to Jerrin:: He hears everything we say but is powerless to do anything. He cannot even twitch a finger or utter a single sound without my permission. You like the ship?  ::She quickly held her fingers up to his lips so he would not speak.:: But not even you can know the secrets it holds or from where it came. Naiija,  ::She called out a name to no one in particular. In response there was a brief whispering of many voices saying nothing discenable.:: Set course for Starbase 118 and engage. NAIIJA: Course set and engaged. ::Smiling, Wolf looks again to Gentarra:: WOLF: Impressive... very impressive. ::Wolf scans the woman, again and again, marvelling at the similiarities in her facial structure and body to Maela... the woman Wolf once thought he had feelings for. Until she turned out to be an impossible bitch, that is. But this woman... woo... the vibes! Her power was amazing!! Her charisma!!:: ::The ship glided silently out of the golden discontinuity. The interior of the hull was completely soundless, and no engine could be felt underfoot, like on a StarFleet ship. It seemed completely insulated against the outside world. Quickly, it accelerated and swerved in a large arc around the StarFleet armada:: WOLF: I should warn them that I am safe... ::Gentarra waves her hand as if bored:: GENTTARRA: Don't... not until we return to the StarBase. I want no un-necessary attention. WOLF: oO Curious... Oo Whatever you say. And what of him? ::The woman motions to the chains that once held Wolf:: GENTARRA: Do what you wish. He is under my command, he isn't going anywhere. ::Nodding slightly, Wolf errs on the side of cautiousness, picking up the shackles for both hands and feet and chains them to the Jerrin. Smirking, he notices the river of drool running down the man's chin. For good measure he lifts his right leg and brings it swiftly across David's face. The jaw cracks, making Wolf wince, but smile:: WOLF: Bet that hurt you little snot. Remember that next time you try and kidnap an admiral. Specifically, me. ::Sneering, Wolf and Gentarra walk out of the room, to somewhere with a little more padding, to discuss the finer things of life...::

A Whipping Boy

Wolf returns to StarBase 118, none too happy about the kidnapping... ::Cursing loudly the moment he materializes on the pad in one of the many transporter rooms of StarBase 118, the Admiral gives the evil eye to all assembled:: WOLF: Would ANYONE like to explain to me how the HELL I got off this trash-can in the first place?! YOU!! WHAT POST ARE YOU?! ::The closest officer was a yeoman, assigned to assisting in the transporter room at the moment:: YEOMAN: I -- transport and delivery Admiral ... SIR! WOLF: What are you doing just standing around then?! Howabout working on ways for me NOT to be abucted again!! ::Saluting sloppily, the yeoman turns to walk out, then rethinks his strategy and walks into the operation booth to busy himself under the console, out of view of the Admiral. Wolf throws his hands in the air and begins to walk out of the room. A security team standing by follows his every step out the door. He begins to yell as the groupo walks down the hall:: WOLF: WHO SENT YOU?! And where were you at the time of my kidnapping?! SEC #1: Admiral, SIR! We have been assigned to your guard detail by the operations captain at the moment, sir! WOLF: Who's the operations captain right now?! Forget I said that!! Just keep your hands on your phasers and shut up you muscle heads!! ::Left and right, officers and civilians are jumping out of the way for the Admiral, some saluting as he walks by, while others simply scurrying away as fast as possible. Unluckily for them, a group of teenagers stand, snickering, in a side hallway on the way to the lift. Wolf stops abruptly, causing a pileup in security men behind him:: WOLF: WHO ARE YOUR PARENTS?! WHY AREN'T YOU IN A CLASSROOM?! ::Never thinking that the Admiral would stop, most of the group jump, then stand wide-eyed but quiet:: WOLF: Are all of you stupid, or are you all mentally linked to this one, and HE'S mute?! ::Wolf jabs his finger into the chest of the closest teen, a short, nervous looking brown haired boy wearing a gray jumpsuit. He sputters something about being finished with classes, but Wolf is already halfway down the hall, still yelling, before the youth had finished his sentence:: WOLF: What's wrong with all you people commander?! Does the base just shut down when I leave? Or did it shut down BEFORE I left, which explains how someone was able to transport me away?! SEC #1: Sir! We're investigating the matter now! WOLF: I bet you are commander!! ::The group steps onto the turbolift, Wolf noisily pushing the security detail behind him as he crosses his arms across his chest and barks his desired deck: command level 2, the location of the main command center. Huffing and puffing, Wolf looks back at the guards behind him every now and then, slitting his eyes at one or two of them, and gazing suspiciously. The Admiral is already edging his way off the lift when it stops, and it's doors are barely open. The operations captain on duty is a terran woman, thin, of moderate height. Her gray hair is cut short, to the cheek, and bulges out spherically in the back. Every hair seems to stay perfectly in place as she turns to face the admiral, two padds in one hand, a cup of steaming red liquid in the other. Her movements are oddly masculine. Before any officers even had a chance to announce the entrance of the Admiral, he is already leaning on the rail which rings the bridge, and staring icily at the woman:: WOLF: WHO are YOU? ENSIGN: ADMIRAL ON DECK!! ::Sharp snaps of salute:: CAPTAIN: Captain Gina Olyv, Admiral! ::Wolf gives a half-assed salute in return and stalks down the ramp to stand face to face with her:: WOLF: And where WERE you when I was KIDNAPPED?! ::The Admiral barks the last work, his head snapping forward towards her quickly. She blinks, steps back just a little and retorts:: OLYV: I was asleep, Admiral... Captain Cassidy Fief was in command at the time. WOLF: ::Sinister, in a quiet whisper:: Oooh, a likely story Gina. ::There is a long pause as the man leans in just a little, breathing in through his nose, then steps back a little, as if satisfied for the moment. He looks around slowly:: WOLF: I'll be in my office. ::Stomping up the ramp, the Admiral leaves the command center, walks down the hall, then onto the turbolift, following the same procedure of allowing the security guards to file in behind him as he sighs, shaking his head at the thought of just how incompetent they really are. Moments later, they step off, walk down another corridor and enter the waiting area for Wolf's office. The room is a clean white, with positively uncomfortable looking sofas on either side. They are of a gray cloth, and have relatively small seats, with a small metal pole jutting upward to hold slightly curved pads only three inches tall to lean against. The chairs are all positioned on a long metal bar, and are seperated every third seat by a round white table, with various assortements of books-on-PADD, and small vases of flowers. At the far end of the room, the two secretaries sit on high chairs at waist-level desks, both with panels about a foot high, which hide everything from the chest down, while the secretaries are seated. A forcefield is erected directly in front of the desks, protecting the two women from phaser-fire, or the Admiral's door from being entered without permission. To enter Wolf's inner office, both secretaries must tap buttons on their desk, hidden by the erected console, which will then drop the forcefield directly ahead of the Admiral's door, allowing visitors to enter. The entire room is also watched around the clock by four hidden cameras, with a direct circuit to the main security office, and a two security stations nearby. In case of emergency, all that one of the two secretaries need do is push a pedal underneath the desk. A lockdown of the entire deck will occur, with security forces alerted, and the Admiral's office doors (both inner and outer) secured instantly:: ::Wolf smiles pleasantly to the two women, who in turn return the greeting:: LING: Well hello Admiral. ::She leans forward into the desk smiling her brightest as she stretches out the word Admiral. Vilas, next to her, attempts to gain the Admiral's attention, but does not win the wink from the bearded man. Hurt, she activates the Personnel Identification (PID) System. Wolf, entirely used-to the system, stands up straight on the panel directly in front of his door. Various systems check his facial structure, retina ID, and weight while he speaks his name in a clear voice. A small green indicator on the surface of Vilas' desk lights, and the two women open the door for him using the buttons on their respective desks. Wolf turns to the assembled guard:: WOLF: ::Pointing to the commander:: You, with me. You two, outside the door, you two, stay here. ::Pleasantly:: Ladies... ::The women know the drill. Should anyone manage to bypass the command area's shielding, and transport in, they'll know and alert security. Should anyone manage to transport Wolf away, they'll know, and alert security. Should he sneeze on his desk, they'll know:: ::Wolf and the security guard enter his office, the Admiral giving the man strict orders to stand in the corner and not move. Uneasily, the officer does so. Wolf takes his seat and furiously taps his desktop, pulling up files and about this and that, updating himself in the span of 10 minutes with everything that has happened he needs to know about. A dozen messages waited from members of The Circle, as well as a few other Admirals not lucky enough to be among the chosen few. Glancing up at the security guard in the corner, Wolf pauses for a moment, then stands:: WOLF: Leave. ::The commander shifts uneasily where he stands, phaser in hand, and looks from left to right:: SEC #1: Admiral, I'm designated as -- WOLF: I said LEAVE!! ::Another moment passes before the guard moves towards the door:: WOLF: And tell my secretary to get me through to The Circle. SEC #1: Yes Admiral. ::Minutes later, the faces of five flag officers are on Wolf's large computer screen:: TIMBER: ... If he had just followed orders... ::Timber let his words run off, the others knowing his meaning. Siemens, always the hog of the limelight, literally, finishes off for him where no words really needed to be said:: SIEMENS: ...then none of this vould have happened. He ees not command material Volf, not command material a-tall. ::She mashes the two words together as her thick german accent, which she manages to keep hidden most of the time, suddenly comes barreling out:: WOLF: Are you trying to stick it to me Numini? SIEMENS: Are you geh-tinkg de-fensive? ::Siemens' chubby face forms into a smug grin. Tara Denack, the Admiral who co-signed the arrest warrant for Captain Demma, steps in. She is the most pleasing on the eye of all the assembled on the visual link, and perhaps the must cunning as well. She is young, like Wolf, just barely 42, and is a terran as he is. The two share much of the same background: mysterious histories, dead parents, and fast rises to power. She stands an imposing six-feet, two inches, with long blonde hair that she wears in a pony-tail, which is sitting like a snake, over her shoulder. Her face is soft, but her serious attitude gives her features severity:: DENACK: Siemens, back off. Wolf isn't at fault here, as we all well-know. ::The older, fatter woman puts on a bit of a pout, but stays quiet:: LANGDON: Indeed, and the matter at hand is now how to keep Demma out of the way. ::Admiral Gabriel Langdon seems to be of a terran, middle-eastern background, with a white beard cropped close to his face, and a bald head. His eyes are quiet brown, like his personality, but what he lacks in looks, he makes up for in intelligence and wisdom. The conservative voice of The Circle, undoubtably. The last voice to be heard is Commodore Isabella LoGrasso, her red frizzy hair cascading out behind her thin, pale face. She is often seen as Langdon's counterpart, although she is more outspoken than he:: LOGRASSO: It will be easy enough. Between us, and the others, there will are plenty of strings... LANGDON: You aren't proposing...?! ::Langdon seemed horrified:: LOGRASSO: And why not?! SIEMENS: Ve 'ave to en-s-ure that 'e doesn't get com-mand a-gain!! WOLF: I want to see him on a cane the next time he walks as a free man... TIMBER: Oh come Gabriel, you really didn't think we'd have it any other way, did you? LANGDON: Preposterous!! Truly!! The Federation will have our heads!! ::Wolf grins deviously as he leans in towards the screen:: WOLF: They haven't said a word yet about the base's destruction, why would they care about what we do with Demma? LANGDON: You know as well as I that the only reason the Federation hasn't given us hell is because they haven't met yet Tris-tan! WOLF: ::Dissmissively throwing hands into the air:: Details... ::The four others laugh at Wolf's little joke. Langdon is not amused:: LANGDON: You all think that they will let this slip away for further discussion later... you're wrong!! Two days is all we have before they meet! TWO DAYS!! And then we'll get it, for sure!! ::Denack, who had been watching, amused, pounds her hands against her desk roughly and quickly:: DENACK: Here here Gabriel!! Are you with us or not old man?! ::Leaning in as Wolf had done:: Because if you're not, there's the door. But don't waste our time with your cowardly belly-aching. We are the true visionaries here, and the Federation is nothing but a bunch of politicians who are too old, like you. They haven't the balls for our type of work anymore. Do you want to become one of them!! LANGDON: ::Quietly:: I said nothing of the sort... ::Tara throws her ponytail back, reclining back in her chair and throwing her legs up onto the desk as she crosses her arms leisurely on her chest:: DENACK: Then buck up, pal. We're almost in the clear. S-F Command was in-the-know on all of our decisions and they said nothing. ::She slowly licks her teeth with her tongue:: ::Langdon is quiet again as Wolf and the others chuckle to themselves:: WOLF: Alright, everyone... be on the ball these next few days and start making some calls. I'll make sure Demma is given the VIP treatment here, so he is rested for his trial. SIEMENS: VIP treat-ment!! ::Roaring laughter:: Good-vun Volfie!! ::And with that, all save Langdon giggle quietly and sit back, thinking of just how easy things really were...::