The door chimed, 1827. Early. Just like how Andrews predicted he would. "Enter." The Security Chief called out, and the doors slid open, briefly letting in the commotion of the corridor. Baxter stepped in, top brass, 15-button salute, at attention. Their posture was so painfully straight that it looked like he was hurting himself. The door closed behind him once again, shutting out the world. "Ensign Baxter Harren. Service number 167-Charlie-890-C. Currently on active duty for the Dynamic Patrol Exploration CORPS. Current assignment: Exploration Vessel Trinity, department, security. Entered service June 7th, 2100. Only two years? Those were the days." Andrews grinned, "At ease, Ensign, before you sprain something." Baxter exhaled as he relaxed, finally.
"Have a seat. I was just going over your service record. You were assigned to the starship Tombaugh for your first duty assignment... I spoke with Lieutenant Commander Mercedes. She was very pleased with your performance. She was upset to lose you." Andrews commented as Baxter settled into the chair, still semi-rigid, "Well... I applied for this ship, Sir. And I got selected— this is my dream gig... I liked the Tombaugh, but there's more room for advancement here." Baxter said this was true. His previous assignment was short-lived but granted him the chance to jump-start his career, eventually making it to where he wanted to be. "I'm sure. But something else will come along, and it will snag your interest. A star base, a new class of ship. Your own security team?"
Baxter smiled, shaking his head. "No, this is where I want to be, Sir." Andrews chuckled at that. "And... are you sure that security is what you'd want to do forever? There are many other career paths to consider." Baxter tilted his head in confusion. "Sir... blue is my color... since I was a little kid." Andrews nodded in understanding, "That's what I want to hear. Only a few people are cut out for tactical operations. That was a test. It says in your file that you're familiar with field operations?"
"Yes... I did a two-month tour with the Tombaugh. We were investigating a possible case involving a narcotics dealer. It turned out to be just radio noise." Baxter informed. Andrews nodded, rounding the table and scrolling through his tablet. "Or... maybe they told you to say that," Andrews added. Standing behind the chair made Baxter nervous, but he maintained his cool. He doesn't know. It's classified. "Sir... you've lost me," Baxter said, his eyes tracking his superior officer as he continued to read off the tablet in his hands. "I have Sigma Nine clearance. And I'm chief of security on the flagship of the Patrol... I know things. Harren. You never investigated a narcotics deal... you were on Omeocoon. Weren't you?" Baxter straightened up, banging his knee under the tabletop, but kept his composure. "I don't know what you're talking about, Sir."
"Sure. You can play dumb all you want. But I have your file. Your entire file. In the year 2101. Your ship crossed the Omeocoon boundary under protocol Black. Under classified orders. Sure, the Trinity did the same... but we were never instructed to land there. You set foot on an alien world and violated their borders. You know how the Omeocoon feels about strangers. Especially those from an organization that abandoned them in their time of need." Baxter exhaled shakily... the LT was right... Baxter and a team of five others went down to Omeocoon on a classified mission. But it was his understanding that it would remain secret. "Sir, are you trying to blackmail me?"
"Of course not. You're a fellow officer and security member... I need you. You're going on a little trip. To Omeocoon. We need an operative over there." Baxter shook his head. "What? Sir! W—why do you want me to go?!" Baxter panicked, "Because of your familiarity with classified operations. I'll get you fitted for an excursion suit immediately. They're a little tight, but since you'll be gone for a while. It's better than what you have on now." Baxter watched in confusion. "What if I refuse?" Baxter said, frowning; he did not want to go back there.
Andrews retook his seat and leaned back in his chair, studying Baxter calmly. "You have the right to refuse, Ensign Harren. But consider the consequences. You'd be defying a direct order from a Flag Officer, which could lead to disciplinary action, possibly even a court-martial." Baxter's mind raced with the implications... this had come from the highest of high in terms of the DP chain of command... and they'd picked him of all the experienced officers to do this. Refusing the order could jeopardize his career and reputation within the Dynamic Patrol. However, the thought of returning to Omeocoon filled him with dread. The memories of his previous mission there still haunted him, and he wasn't eager to relive those experiences. "Sir, with all due respect, I don't think I'm the right person for this assignment," Baxter said, standing up and placing his hands behind his back, his voice steady despite his growing apprehension.
"You haven't even told me why I need to go there... and quite frankly... I'm not equipped to handle the complexities of dealing with the Omeocoon." Andrews regarded Baxter with a thoughtful expression. "Ensign, you graduated top of your class and had an entrance score of 86.28%. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for a new member to achieve that score when applying? You had your choice of any command. You tested into the security division but could have a promising career in any department should you desire it. You see things no other Ensign could see, and your strategic comprehension is beyond that of your fellow security members. Your experience on Omeocoon is invaluable in navigating the situation. And rest assured, you won't be alone. You'll have the full support of the USS Trinity and the resources of the Dynamic Patrol behind you. You'd just be out there alone. A solo mission. We need you to do a little cleanup; this is a priority, black."
"Samantha. Privacy." Andrew's ordered the computer. The glass doors to the room fogged up and lost their transparency, as shutters on the windows lowered, blocking out all of open space. Paranoid much? "Define 'Directive Black.' Harren." Baxter hesitated but sighed. "Directive Black. Dynamic Patrol Charter, sub-section one-twenty-one-beta-one. In the event a Hero Subdivision member abandons their post, they must be apprehended and transported back to Base One for trial and inquiry." Baxter explained there was more to it, but that was the just of it. "Open file JA-OM-0107." The speakers in the room chirped, and a holographic projection appeared, broadcasting a three-dimensional image in thin air. Baxter recognized him immediately. It was Tommy, 'Goo-Squirrel.' Baxter frowned, his anger swelling at the image. "You know what I'm about to ask you."
"Sir. Isn't he technically on our side?" Baxter questioned... as much as he despised Tommy. The squirrel was still protected under DP law as long as he wore that jacket. "Technically. Has it been proven that the universe was created by a massive bang 13.8 billion years ago? Technically. He abandoned his post. From an ambassadorial standpoint, we want nothing more than to make amends with Omeocoon. However, from a Patrol standpoint, Tommy is a criminal who needs to face the music, you'd bring him back and see to that." Andrews continued to pace, which put more pressure on Baxter.
Baxter weighed his options carefully. Despite his reservations, he knew he couldn't simply ignore a direct order from his superior officer. Taking a deep breath, he nodded reluctantly. "Understood, Sir. I'll comply with the assignment." Andrews nodded in approval. "Good. You'll leave at 0430. Report to uniform issue after this. You'll be given a class two shuttle with cloaking capability, oh, and study the mission parameters so that you can requisition any additional equipment you need." Andrews handed Baxter a tablet with all the mission parameters. A quick swipe through indicated his itinerary; he'd study it in detail later. Baxter nodded several times, absorbing the information. "And as this is a Priority Black. I trust you know the rules concerning the secrecy of information in Directive 121?" Baxter recalled the info. "Need to know. I'll request departure permission from the Captain as soon as I'm through with uniform issue."
"No need to do that," Andrews said, "So he already knows?" Baxter questioned, raising an eyebrow. "The Captain is a good man... but he's quite sympathetic to Tommy. He's always been an effective scientist and explorer but from a security standpoint. He leaves much to be desired."