Star Trek: The Fall: The Poisoned Chalice by James Swallow

frequency.”
    â€œBetter that you know who I am, for the sake of expedience,” said the hologram, and with a start, Nog realized that it was actually a “live” broadcast. “The power cost of encrypting this communication and transmitting it to you makes every second valuable.” Velk’s image flickered a little, distorting. “You havebeen summoned to this location by direct command of the Federation Council, an action authorized by Special Executive Order of President Pro Tem Ishan Anjar.” The Tellarite’s cold gaze scanned the room. “Some of you are under directives from Starfleet Command. Others have been recruited from the civilian sector. I have gathered you here in order to participate in an extremely delicate mission, in defense of Federation national security. Know that if you are successful, you will receive the highest commendations and the gratitude of the UFP.”
    Nog glanced at Ashur, Tom, Khob, and the others. He would have expected mercenaries to want something more material than a promise of thanks, but none of them said a word. The Ferengi found himself wondering: Did the Tellarite have some other kind of leverage over them, something more than just avarice?
    Velk went on. “As of now, you will be in commission under the group designation ‘Active Four.’ All communications and pursuant orders will be issued via that coding. Your unit will proceed to act as a covert tactical force, and you are to fulfill a single remit: Track, isolate, and capture the terrorist cell responsible for the assassination of the late President Nanietta Bacco.”
    The Ferengi blinked, trying to keep up with what he was hearing. Nog had never heard of any such orders or unit being formed before, and he wasn’t certain how to deal with the concept. But then, perhaps that was the point; he had never heard of these kind of orders before precisely because they were so secret. He swallowed hard.
    â€œIt is our belief that these terrorists are agents of the Tzenkethi Coalition, operating beyond the bordersof the Typhon Pact states,” said Velk’s holoimage, gesturing at the air. “They are highly dangerous and represent an ongoing threat to the security of the quadrant.”
    Nog watched the other members of the group take that revelation on board, thinking back to Deep Space 9 and the discovery of a Tzenkethi DNA trace on the device that had been found implanted in Enkar Sirsy, the initial suspect in the assassination. It seemed the Federation Council now considered that sliver of evidence enough to act upon.
    â€œThe circumstances of your mission require that you conduct this operation in isolation from all outside agencies, even those of Starfleet and the Federation. Until the operation concludes, you are effectively phantoms. If you are captured or killed by any aggressor powers, the Federation will disavow all knowledge of your existence and of this mission.” Velk paused to let that sink in. “Your ship will provide immediate logistical support. Any additional concerns will be your responsibility to source.”
    â€œWhat support?” muttered Ashur.
    â€œComputer,” Velk snapped. “Authorization is given. Mission start. Unlock operations systems.”
    â€œConfirmed,” said a synthetic voice.
    Without warning, the holographic emitter projecting Velk’s avatar directed multiple other rays of light to points across the mess hall. Nog jerked back in surprise as a dozen panes of blue formed in midair, some hanging over the dining tables, others suspended in space. Each one was a data feed, a screen relaying complex charts, signal traffic, tactical plots, and more. In the blink of an eye, the grubby crew lounge had been transformed into an operations center. High on onewall, a chronograph was running, the clock having started the moment Velk gave his command.
    It appeared that the secrets that Nog had suspected the Snipe