Richard Allen Cleary said nothing. He wanted to reach up and scratch his newly-grown goateeit was the latest fashion and Cleary always kept up with the latest fashionsbut instead he stood rock still and glared over Finnegans shoulder at the first-year cadet who faced them both.
You dont want to be my friend? Fine Jimmy. But you dont want to be my enemy. You wont live long that way. Finnegan crossed his arms and settled back on his heels. He didnt even reach for his dagger, but then he didnt need to. Thats why Cleary was here.
Instead of shrinking away like most did, the younger cadetJim Kirk was his namestepped closer to Finnegan, reflecting the upperclassmans broad smile back at him. The question isnt whether I want to be your friend, but do you want to be mine?
Kirk had been the focus of Finnegans attention for weeks now. The two had circled each other like wolves, waiting for an opening. Cleary had been mostly busy, taking care of a group of upstarts that thought they could challenge Finnegan and get away with it. They didnt.
Now that things had started to heat up with Kirk, hed been called in to do what Finnegan always called enforce the law, that is Finnegans law.
Finnegan scoffed at Kirk, almost casually, though Cleary could see him tense up from behind. Friends with you, Jimmy? Why would I care about that? Youre nothing. Youve got no patron, no crew. Youre family is dirt. Theyve got no influence, and neither do you and you never will.
Cleary felt a rush of anger, but quickly quashed it. Finnegan had said similar things to him. They were all trueClearys family had no standing or powerbut it still burned to hear those words, even if they were meant for someone else. The only reason Cleary was in the Academy at all was because hed survived long enough to catch the attention of Admiral Pike. And Pike, like Finnegan, appreciated Clearys skills. He was good at two, and only two thingskilling people and following orders. But that was enough to survive, at least for now.
Cleary thought he saw Kirks face contorted by anger for a moment, similar to his own. But then it passed, and the young mans face was smiling again. Oh, Ive got more influence than you know. Ive been watching you, Finnegan, and Ive learned my lessons well.
Finnegan laughed out loud and shook his head. Delusions of grandeur! You should really learn your place, Jimmy boy. Youre entertaining at least, but Ive got better things to do than waste my time with a worthless piece of trash. He glanced back and nodded to Cleary. It was nice knowin you.
Cleary unsheathed his dagger and took a deep breath.
Finnegan looked back, his eyes wide with surprise, a silent what half formed on his lips. Then he fell forward heavily, the hilt of Clearys dagger protruding from his back.
Kirk looked down at Finnegans sprawling form and then up at Cleary. Good job, he said. Stick with me, TRIBBLE, and youll go far.
Cleary felt the warm rush he always did after being told hed done well. He didnt even notice Kirks balled fist until it hit him in the stomach. He doubled over, falling to one knee and struggling to breath.
He felt Kirks face near his own and the younger cadets breath on his ear. Just remember. If you ever think about sticking a knife in my backand Ill know the moment you doyoure going to join your former friend here face first on the deck. Is that clear?
Cleary coughed and sputtered. All he could do was nod feebly.
Kirk stood back up. Good. Now get up and stop pretending youre hurt. We have some work to do. If you try to play on my sympathies, youll discover I dont have any. He turned and began to walk down the corridor. Oh, and pick up my books while youre down there, he called back.
Cleary, finally able to take a breath, reached down and gathered up the few books that Kirk had been carrying, probably for show. He knew if he stuck with the younger man, he might amount to something someday. But he also knew enough not to fully trust him. Kirk might be an excellent patron, but there was something about him that made Cleary nervous.
Hed follow orders, of course. But hed also keep an eye on Kirk, just in case.
((DS9 era, but I imagine that since it actually is happening in 2410, the Terrans will have had some kind of significant progress in regaining their power))
The Bridge was dimly lit, some areas pitch black, the dim turquoise light was mainly focused on the consoles around the Bridge, so that their users could see where to put their furiously typing fingers, however no light appeared on the user's themselves.
Had the Bridge been lit to it's full potential, it ould be instantly known that it was not a Terran Bridge, the walls were black metal and the consoles comprised of prismatic shapes of differeing hues of green and turquoise, but what would have struck a stranger to this Bridge more than anything was it's sheer size, it was far larger than anything the Alpha Quadrant had made.
On a Terran or Klingon ship, this would seem an impracticality, but this was not an Alha Quadrant vessel, and a Bridge this size was appropriate.
In the middle of the darkness, the Commanding Oficer sat in his chair, he was illuinated up to the lower half of his face, his position radiated confidence and a relaxed attitude, one leg over the other, leaning back in his chair, and his hands clasped together, resting over his midsection, suspended by his elbows propped up against the arms of the chair, the ship's Bridge was almost perfectly silent, save for the occasional electronic sound from one of the consoles, but otherwise, there was not even the sound of breathing as the stars streaked across the enormous viewscreen, eventually, this silence was broken by a voice from one of the crewmen.
"Commander, we are almost at our target area."
"Bring us out of warp right next to them."
"Aye sir, shall I raise the shields?"
The Commander of the ship let out a soft chuckle, a wry smirk wrought itself across his illuminated face.
"Don't bother, there isn't a thing these toy ships can do to even scratch the hull."
"Understood sir, dropping out of warp...now"
_________________________________________________________
The space above the planet was ablaze with the grueling fight above it's atmosphere, the planet was lifeless and not in a strategic area, however, the planet was loaded with enough resources to build an entire fleet of Terran ships and power and maintain them for 60 Earth years if necessary, so now the Terrans and the Klingon/Cardassian Alliance were locked in combat for this goldmine of resources.
The two sides had lost their formation two hours ago, and now were scattered over the battlefield, as time wore on the fight got more and more intense, both sides were taking heavy casualties, but the ones remaining consisted of the strongest vessels and the most brilliant tacticians for Captains on both sides, the first shot had been fired three hours ago and it seemed unlikely the last ine would be fired off anytime soon.
The fighting continued, until the bridges of almost every ship on both sides were filled with panic riddled voices.
"Gul Dumek, I'm reading an enormous energy signature building up next to us!"
"Captain Jameson, it seems to be an enormous warp signature!"
"We're right in the path of it!"
"Evasive maneuvers, NOW!"
One ship tried to run away from the confusion, but it's crew soon saw the empty space in their viewscreen be swallowed by a wall of silver metal, before the captain could evfen issue orders to stop, the ship rammed into the obstruction, exploding almost immediately. when the explosions died, the ship was little more than wreckage, but what it hit was unscathed.
"See? Not even a scratch."
The Commander grinned in his darkened Bridge, the fighting had ceased as the Terrans and the Klingon/Cardassian ships were awestruck at what they saw, a monstrosity of a vessel.
The body was a very shallow V shape, but the front and sides were perfectly vertical, the length of the sides was many times that of even the largest vessel there, and the ship's height dwarfed even that, but what was the most impressive part, wa the ship's armament, on the V shaped front, four black rectangles spanning roughly two thirds of it's total height housed a row of enormous cannons each, and on the edges of the body, a large triangular weapons pod on each side slung underneath.
It is not everyday a crewman encounters a ship that can dwarf the V'ger, so it took a while before scans of the vessel were initiated, the previous conflict seemingly forgotten, behind the body sprouted equally enormous engines, still emanating a green/turquoise glow, at the middle top front of this behemoth, a small white slit served as the viewscreen of the Bridge, inside it, the Commander grinned at the enemy's confusion.
"Open a channel to all of those vessels, we'll give them a fair chance."
One console emanated a few sounds before the Commander spoke.
"This is Krovennan Darksabre, Commanding Officer of the Vilscaran Battle Fortress, I.V.S Drekkar Os'kanneth, this planet and all of it's resources are now under the jurisdiction of the Vilscaran Empire, all ships currently in orbit of this planet will surrender unconditionally and prepare to be boarded.
When we have removed all we need from your vessels, we will send you on your way, failure to comply is not advisable, you have one minute to respond."
Krovennan had not moved from his position, the minute passed beriefly until an officer spoke up to break the silence.
"Sir, the Lead Klingon and Terran ships are hailing us."
"Put them both onscreen"
The view of the lifeless planet was replaced by a scarred Klingon male and a blonde Human Female, the Klingon was the first to respond.
"We will not become slaves to anyone! It is a good day to die!"
"We were slaves once already, we will not become slaves again, no matter how fancy a ship you fly."
Krovennan paused for a moment, before moving from his chair and walking towards the screen, the only piece of white light was directly in front of the screen, as Krovennan walked into the light, the black and grey of his Vilscaran uniform became much more detailed, but what almost made the Human falter was the left side of Krovennan's face, it was horrifically burned and scarred, the skin almost pure red, one eye was white and pieces of flesh were missing, the eye seemed to almost dart between the two, as if it had its own malicious intelligence and was sizing up the two for death.
"You two hve no choice, if you wish to live another day, I will accept no less than unconditional surrender, if not, turn off this transmission now, and we'll see how well you fare."
It did not take long for the two to regain their misguided bravado, both screens switched off almost simultaneously, Krovennan smirked and spoke without turnnging around to the darkness beyond his small spotlight.
"Arm all defences, raise shields and prepare the main weapons, swat these gnats from our face."
Once again the space above the planet was ablaze in weapons fire, however, this time the two sides from before seemingly ignored each other ad focused on the Battle Fortress, which had erupted in an Antiproton shower of beam lances, cannon fire and pulse wave weaponry, the enormous cannons and the two weapon pods had not yet fired, seemingly waiting.
The fight was intense, but when the last shot was fired, only the Battle Fortress remained, Krovennan mused to himself, they had fought hard, but hadn't even halved the shields, now all that was left in their way was the wreckage of the insects that had buzzed around this vessel, and the planet before them.
"Are the main weapons charged?"
"Aye sir, turbolances armed and ready, weapon pods report their own turbolances are at maximum power."
"Excellent, scan the planet's surface, aim your weapons at the weakest points and fire."
Th enormous weapons started to glow with the red of their Antiproton ammunition, before long the energy erupted in a bright red beam, impacting against the planet's surface, the weapons of the Battle Fortress cascaded their hellish red beams down on the planet, striking the key positions with pinpoint accuracy, the planet's high concentration of metal meant it held for a while, but before long the surface broke and the weaker points began to crumble, planetary destailisation occured, until the planet broke itself apart.
The shards of the former planet scattered in all directions, some oblitweated the wreckage around the Battle Fortress. Krovennan finally walked back to his seat and sat down, submerging himself in darkness once more.
"Report."
"Scans show that the intel was correct, the planet is, or was, rich in what we need."
"Good, send a beacon into the wreckage so Vilscar can send a mining party, as for us, we head back to Vilscar, this was a nice little distraction, but I fell that our people will miss their strongest vessel, head for the wormhole, warp 8."
"Aye sir, estimated time to the wormhole, 5 hours."
"Excellent, keep me informed of any developments."
Krovennan lifted himself from his seat and entered the turbolift, soon he was walking through the labyrinthine corridors to his quarters, the design was the same, but the corridors were better lit, so the black metal walls were visible in all their glory, Krovennan felt his burn as he walked through the corridors, he had been given this by his counterpart in the other universe, a Federation lackey.
He would pay him back for what he did, one day he would bring this harbinger of death to his universe, and pay Earth a visit they would never forget.
The vulcan sat at a desk in his quarters, casually glancing out the window. In the distance he could see two other ships following in formation. The four amethyst nacelles of the Phoenix-class escort, I.S.S. Fearless, and in the distance, the massive bulk of the Jupiter-class dreadnaught, the I.S.S. Minerva... this squadron was forged for war, with enough firepower to bring down any threat it encountered. And yet Tarrak knew those were not the only other ships in the vicinity... three months ago he was consulted by Captain Breng to help breach the fabric of reality and create a spatial anomaly that would allow an entire fleet to instantaneously move across dimensions.
Piercing into another dimension was nothing unheard of in the Terran Empire. It had happened a handful of times in the past, but the practice had become more and more common since 2409. To move forty-seven ships within the timeframe of thirty seconds was at first laughed at by the Terran Science Commission. Tarrak offered his proposal to the board, and despite two hours of presentation... he was simply brushed off. If for anything... because of the immense amount of energy needed to create an anomaly of that size, and the amount of repair time needed for the deflector dishes after they were modified to nourish the anomaly until they breached onto the other side. It was tactically unwise to the paranoid members of the commission, and Tarrak left with his data to return to menial service on Station Triumph near Rigel V.
Of course, fate had other plans... and the entire Science Commission was terminated three months later by the enterprising Dr. Bellsworth and his longtime friend, Captain Breng... an ambitious man who sought to abandon his universe and conquer a new one. All thirteen members of the board made the mistake of leaving on the same shuttle after a conference with 52nd Imperial Logistics Division. The sabotaged warp drive blew their atoms across 4 light years, and allowed Dr. Bellsworth and his terran think-tank to assume their place. And they wanted a way out of the universe, out of the threat of capture by the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance.
Tarrak was merely a pawn to them. A vulcan who studied astrophysics extensively, who had no real desire for anything other than a menial life, and kept mostly to himself. His thesis on Extradimensional Theory made him a prime target for Captain Breng's plans to move his fleet into another reality.
The three planned in secret, to leave the Terran Empire as they know it and conquer a new dimension one planet at a time. Breng was a tactical genius, perhaps gifted to the point he saw the folly in trying to fight against the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance. An unsuspecting dimension, he theorized... would be more efficient to claim.
They conspired together, assuming they were all on the same page... but none of them suspected what the quiet, unassuming vulcan thought or cared about. To them, he was merely a tool to use. The means to an end. Not even Breng considered looking into his private life -- the life past his scientific studies.
"We're almost ready, Tarrak. Report to engineering to oversee phase one." Breng's voice boomed over the comm in his quarters.
"Yes, sir. I'll... be on my way." He gathered his diagnostic tool and moved out of his quarters, shutting off the data terminal he was working on.
Once he went to engineering, everything went just as predicted. The fleet was on its way to conquest. It would be the largest successful exodus in the Terran Empire. They would arrive in our reality at once and brutally assault anything and anyone standing in their way. Then establish dominance from there.
"My calculations are correct, Captain. We are approaching the right area to establish the rift." He spoke into his handheld comm, and looked over the readouts of the panel.
"Good... meet me in Shuttlebay 4. The Pathfinder will be waiting. Lieutenant Robertson will pilot you in first." The Captain ordered, and the vulcan only replied with a simple, "Yes, sir." Before departing.
As he made his way to the shuttlebay, Lieutenant Robertson never asked him what he thought of this, or what his plans were once they departed the ship and entered the rift. Tarrak knew what would likely happen... he knew Robertson was not in Captain Breng's favor ever since interrupting his dinner with what would later turn out to be a bogus claim of treason against him by another officer. He was... expendable. And Tarrak knew he was too. He assumed his shuttle would be destroyed once Breng was done using him. After all, he wouldn't want any of the other forty-six captains to find a way back through so easily... he was just another loose end to tie up for the mission, in all likelihood.
Once in the shuttle, they moved ahead of the fleet. Deflector arrays began to channel beams one at a time into a particular area of space from their deflector dishes. Each of them attuned to Tarrak's calculated frequencies. An anomaly appeared, and began to expand... Lt. Roberts went throttle up and the Pathfinder raced toward the strange blue-white cloud.
"It'll be exciting to see what's on the other side, vulcan." The human smirked. He had no respect for the vulcans, obviously... being brought up and raised in the belief that humans were the master race.
"Yes... unfortunately, you will not." Tarrak said as he was getting up.
"Wait, wha--?" The lt. turned around, only to get a particular area of his collar pinched, and he collapsed out of the chair, unconscious.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I don't want to kill you, but I can't promise you who we're going to meet won't... but at this point I have to take the risk." The vulcan remorsefully replied to the unconscious officer before taking command of the helm.
---
"Captain, you should have a look at this... we found this on Tarrak's data terminal!" An ensign ran across the bridge of the Gargantuan, the star cruiser flagship of Captain Breng, with a PADD in hand. He handed it to the startled man, who immediately began looking over it.
I want you to know that I am sorry. I have no other choice. The Terran Empire has no place for people like me. The Klingon-Cardassian Alliance despises me even more. After I lost my wife to one of your senseless battles, I knew I had to escape. Using your ships to start somewhere new was the best option I had. I anticipated you would like to use my designs to further your own treacherous agendas. And I anticipated you would kill me as soon as you had no other use for me. You will not be joining me. Live long and prosper.
The captain finished reading and pointed to the viewscreen.
"Destroy that shuttle! NOW! Don't let him get through!" He barked aloud.
"It's too late, sir.. they entered the rift!" His chief tactical officer replied.
"All ships! Converge on the rift! Destroy the Pathfinder!" The Captain leaned over to speak into the comm on his armrest.
All ships immediately powered up their impulse engines and headed for the rift quickly. Tarrak's shuttle was no match for even one of their ships, let alone all of them.
Tarrak reached over to tap in a few commands on a panel, and a modified phaser beam lanced into the rift behind him, causing the rift to explode into billions of fragments of light, sealing him off from the rest of the fleet.
Ahead of the Pathfinder, a Monarch-class exploration cruiser began to diverge on the shuttle. A hailing frequency came through.
"This is the U.S.S. Bavaria. We've identified your vessel as the I.S.S. Pathfinder. All vessels of the Terran Empire are considered enemies of the Federation. Lower your shields and prepare to be beamed aboard as prisoners, or we will open fire." A woman's voice blasted over the comm.
Tarrak swallowed hard, knowing that his vessel would be instantly blasted in a matter of moments if he did not respond quickly.
"This is Pathfinder... my name is Tarrak..."
"Lower your shields. You have 15 seconds to comply before we open fire." The woman angrily replied, cutting him off.
"Look! My name is Tarrak... I... I'm requesting political asylum. I'm not a member of the Terran Empire... but there's an officer next to me who is. I'm lowering my shields now... again, I'm requesting political asylum..." He quickly replied. He hadn't come this far for so long just to be killed on emergence into this reality.
---
"Political Asylum?" The skeptical bajoran captain looked at the vulcan as he entered the bridge, escorted by two security officers. She had the faintest hint of a smirk on her face. Obviously, never having heard of such a request from someone in the 'mirror' universe.
"We'll grant it to you for now... your associate is in sickbay... he'll be our prisoner until we figure out what to do with him." She shrugged lightly.
"He's not my associate. He's just part of a larger fleet that was following us through that dimensional tear... you should be thanking me, Captain... they would have destroyed your vessel easily." He raised one eyebrow apprehensively.
"A fleet, huh? All we picked up was your shuttle. Where is this massive fleet at?" She continued to remain skeptical.
"Subspace... I suppose you could call it limbo. They're neither here nor there. Not alive. But not dead. I abhor taking lives... perhaps they'll find a way out. Perhaps not." He shrugged lightly.
The bajoran shook her head. "Well, we have no way to substantiate it one way or the other. But I've never heard of someone from your universe asking for political asylum in ours. All the same, it's in our regulations to grant political asylum to anyone fleeing an oppresive regime... you'll be shown your quarters, Mister Tarrak. But I warn you... try anything clever and I'll break you in half like the branch of a menva tree." She offered a quick glare, still untrusting of him.
He shook his head.
"I only want to start a new life somewhere else. I assure you... I'm incapable of doing anything clever, Captain."
There was a sickening crunch, then the guard crumpled to the ground, his head wrenched to the side at an unnatural angle. With a sneer of contempt on his face, the gaunt, red-haired human kicked the body aside, then stepped to the console at which the Cardassian had been working.
Thin, bony fingers danced across the panel, causing a series of schematics and multi-function displays to rapidly flicker across the screen. The images and the movement of those fingers paused for a moment, as a map of the small facility appeared on the screen; the man's steel-grey eyes locking onto the screen, unblinkingly, searing the image into his brain. His fingers then began their rapid waltz once again, rapidly poring through the system's database, until, finally, he located the file that he sought. An image of the base's primary power source, a small fusion reactor, and a brief summary of its operations, steadily glowed on the screen.
Leaving the information displayed on the monitor, he picked up his rifle and rapidly scanned both hallways that led to his position. Satisfied that no alarm had yet been raised and that none of the other Klingons or Cardassians were approaching, he returned to the console. A practiced eye quickly dissected the relevant information from the monitor, as he examined the readout for the reactor. The sneer on his lips widened as he looked over the information. Clearing the data from the console, he looked down at the satchel on his belt, and one hand reached down to caress the Transphasic charge as he whispered, "I know just where to put you, my friend..." then he chuckled quietly.
Pulling a tricorder from another small pouch on his belt, he made a very brief scan, to pinpoint the locations of nearby enemies. Making a mental note of hallways to avoid, he set off at a brisk pace; the map of the facility, captured in his near-photographic memory, guided him on a winding descent, into the bowels of the small, rocky moon on which the facility was located. With only two more stops to update his tricorder readings, he managed to reach the reactor control room without incident.
Peering over the railing of the catwalk that circled the room, he noted that there was a single, Cardassian engineer working on the reactor and only a lone guard, an ancient-looking Klingon with equipment that looked just as ancient. He grinned, knowing that the diversionary attack that his crew was making on the base's supply stores, about a kilometer away, was having its desired effect and drawing the base's defenders away. He then started grumbling quietly, as he realized that he would not be able to get a clean shot at the guard or the engineer, without moving down into the control room. Gingerly and as quietly as he could manage, he made his way across the catwalk and down the ramp that led into the room, grimacing at each footfall that quietly echoed with a slight, metallic noise, but the reactor's ambient noise was evidently sufficient to mask his movements, as neither the guard nor the engineer reacted to his approach.
Finally reaching a clear vantage point, he squeezed off a burst of fire at the Klingon guard, who crumpled to the ground, in a motionless heap. Moving with lightning speed, however, the Cardassian engineer leapt behind a nearby piece of machinery. Cursing at the engineer's quick reaction, he quickly sprinted down the remainder of the ramp and ducked behind a console, as the Cardassian sent several, yellow beams of energy lancing out from a small pistol. Mentally steeling himself, he stood from behind the console and sent a spray of energy bolts toward the Cardassian's position, then braced himself for the inevitable return fire. The Cardassian peered around his cover and managed only a pair of beam blasts, which splashed across the man's personal shield, before return fire scorched a series of small, burning holes into his upper body, and the engineer collapsed to the floor.
Exhaling gruffly, he frowned, knowing that the noise of combat would attract the attention of the facility's remaining guards. Sensing that he needed to move swiftly, he made his way to a small access panel, located on the side of the reactor assembly. Not worried about subtlety at this point, he used the rifle to blast the panel's locking mechanism, then pried the panel open. Checking the EPS conduits inside the panel, he breathed a sigh of relief that his quick analysis (and uncanny ability to understand the inner workings of even the most complex machinery) had accurately identified a weak spot that his potent, but small, Transphasic charge could wreak havoc upon. Pulling the charge from his satchel, he set a short timer on the charge, then carefully placed it inside the panel, angling the charge so the detonation would maximize its damage and, hopefully, trigger a chain reaction in the reactor. A sinister smile settled upon his lips, as he thought of the destruction that even the small reactor would cause when it exploded. Nothing pleased him more than exquisitely-wrought devastation, particularly, when his expansive technological expertise enabled him to employ finesse to maximize the effects.
The approaching shouts of several of the base's other inhabitants was all the motivation that he needed to finish his musing and get out of the facility, as fast as he could. Tapping his wrist communicator, he said, "Marshall to Blackguard, beam me directly to the Bridge... It's done, and now we need to take our leave from this miserable rock..."
"Well, I still can't really explain what happened, but, you were right, I couldn't find anything in the EPS system that would have explained the explosion that disabled the reactor," said the red-haired man to the anxious-looking Cardassian, who peered over his shoulder.
"But you were able to fix it, correct?" asked the Cardassian.
"Yes, it should be back up and running smoothly... Momentarily..." the human answered, pressing several buttons on the console in front of him. A wide smile crossed his face as the reactor hummed to life. "See? I told you I could fix it," he said with a satisfied grin.
"The stories of your technical expertise are well-founded, Captain, and we are in your debt," replied the Cardassian, who breathed a long sigh of relief.
"Don't mention it... Fixing things has always been one of my great joys in life," answered the man. Clapping the Cardassian on the shoulder, he strode toward the ramp leading out of the small facility. His smile faded to a slightly-puzzled frown, as he peered down at his tricorder and examined the data he had collected while repairing the reactor. Although he had told the Cardassian the truth, that he could not definitively explain what had happened to the reactor, he had detected some unusual, multi-phasic particles, but he was not entirely certain what they might mean. Quantum anomalies had never been one of his strong disciplines, preferring, instead, studies of concrete physics and its predictable outcomes rather than dealing with things like multi-dimensional theory.
Shaking his head at the readings on the tricorder, he decided that the best thing to do would be to turn them over to V'Rot, when he returned to the ship; the Vulcan would probably be giddy, at least, as far as Vulcans can be 'giddy', at the prospect of studying an inter-dimensional phenomenon. To be fair, he supposed that the Vulcan approached a problem like that, much the same as he would approach a damaged warp core, or the reactor that he had just repaired for the Cardassian research facility; just a puzzle to be solved, with the reward being the satisfaction of having solved it.
The smile returned to his face as he tapped the combadge on his chest and said, "Marshall to Paladin, one to beam up."
Theta. Come here. Bazran barked as he pushed away his plate full of food utter disgust. What is this swill you call food?
Sir. Im sorry. It wont happen again.
Well, I suppose you are a Terran and you cant help it, but I will have to each you a lesson about how to serve your betters.
Terran slave designated three one nine theta had been the personal attendant of Bazran Talar, Intendent of Empok Nor, for almost 2 years now. He had come to know the Intendant very well but the Intendant was in a bad mood. Empok Nor had been ordered shut down and the Intendant had been taking it out on him. Though he had to admit, not all of the abuse was unwanted.
Into my bedroom now and Ill give you the lesson of a lifetime. The Intendant grabbed the slaves ear and threw him into the bed only to lock the door behind him. Only a moment had passed behind the closed doors when the door to Bazrans personal space chimed.
WHAT?! Bazran exclaimed with extreme announce. The door chimed again.
Enter, this better be important. He said as he exited his bedroom ready to see who had interrupted the lesson he was giving his slave. It was, Sar, his Breen First Officer. In general the Breen were an enemy of the Alliance however Bazran found Sar useful and as a result Sars life was spared but more than that he gave the Breen an amazing honour. The chance to become his First officer.
Shes arriving, Was all that he said, Breen werent known for the loquaciousness.
Well, I should be there to greet her give me the chance to repay her for this great opportunity. Each word was spat out with bile. This less than a being woman was responsible for seeing Empok Nor being shut down. Of course he was being rewarded with a desk job but being behind a desk meant your battle skills diminished and was all an attempt to weaken the Bajorans hold on the area.
The wandered through the well known halls of Empok Nor together as Bazrans Terran slave hurried after them bearing a pitcher and a few glasses.
It is a pleasure to see you, Nirol. Would you like some refreshment? Theta, glass for a guest.
Knowing you Bazran you probably had it poisoned. Nirol, a ferengi doctor who also had been attached to the Alliance responded as she ignored both Sar and Bazran and started to look around.
So this is my new research facility? Could be better but then again it was being Run by Bazran so I couldnt of expected much from it.
What do you mean your base? I was told they were going to shut this base down?
Yes, and then once they had already had this place shut down I convinced the Alliance to let me use it as a research base. Apparently Garak wants to do some testing of a new interrogation method see how... effective it is. Ill run the scientific end of the research while he tries it out in the real world. Oh, and sorry that youll be stuck at a desk for the rest of your life.
ARRRGGGH! exclaimed Bazran. This.... this Wench. This Ferengi Wench had beaten him if he could get away with blatant murder he would do it right here right now but he couldnt. Though perhaps... there was something that he could do about it.
Well, I guess I should show you around. Where first?
My new quarters, which by the way I want your stuff cleared out in an hour.
Bazran screwed up his face as if the thought of following her orders disgusted him.
Fine alright. Lets get this over with.
Sar, Bazran, and his Terran slave retraced their steps with Nirol following behind. They entered Bazrans quarters. Bedrooms there, alright where next?
Dont rush I wont start the clock until after the tours finished. Ill check my new room out.
She was rubbing it in, but he knew she would it was his chance to strike, of course not him personally but his Theta.
Deal with her. Bazran whispered into the Terrans ear which set him into action. The theta would kill for Bazran but he also would Kill Bazran himself at certain times but the Theta hopefully wouldnt arouse her suspicions beyond simply keeping an eye on her but a quick bludgeon over the head of the womans short frame with anything came to hand and that was it she was down and dead.
However Bazran also had to tie up loose ends, the Theta was a loose end with a quick nod Sar phasered the theta in the back. Killing her and allowing the theta to be framed for her murder.
Now, we have a chance to keep Empok Nor. Good work my cold-hearted friend I knew youd make yourself useful.
(Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I dont own it.)
Cerberus.
Even among the fledgling New Terran Dominion (including back when it was still the Terran Resistance), the name of that shadowy organization was spoken of in harsh whispers. In essence, it was analogous to Starfleets Section 31a Black Ops group that would go to any means necessary to accomplish their objectives for the good of the Terrans, even means that others considered reprehensible, such as the forbidden science of Genetic Engineering.
Proof of that now lay prone outside an Alliance Stronghold, waiting for the bases Commander to emerge from his Quarters.
Takeshi was one of Cerberus best Snipers, known to most of the organization as Archer. He was capable of hitting a target with a high degree of accuracy at the absolute outer effectiveness limits of his Phaser Sniper Rifle, acquired by Cerberus from the other universe through illegal channels. Her incredible accuracy was due in part to his origins.
Takeshi was a Designer Baby, gestated in an artificial womb and genetically altered during that period to the pinnacles of genetic perfectiona true superhuman, if you will. And after he was born, Takeshi was raised by Cerberus, his training beginning as soon as he could hold his first weapon.
As a result of his training, Takeshi was practically emotionlessand completely dedicated to the goals of Cerberus. Some of his fellow agentsas well as his handler, Elaine Rubechhad taken to nicknaming him the Perfect Soldier.
His eyes spotted movementthe Klingon General commanding this outpost was entering the open, allowing for a perfect shot. Takeshi set his Rifle for maximum power, knowing that this would drain the rifles power in five shots, but not caring in the slightest. He lined up the General in his sights, waited the briefest of moments for an optimal shot and pulled the trigger.
The General was struck right in the forehead, the power behind the blast vaporizing him in an instant. As the guards began searching for the culprit, Takeshi activated the Transport Beacon on his wrist, returning him to the Raven, his personal craft which waited for him in orbit. Raven was a Tempest-Class Shuttle, a new type of shuttle bearing many similarities to the Delta Flyer used by Starfleet. The shuttle was equipped with a Cloaking Device, which remained active even as Takeshi returned to the shuttle.
Takeshi sat in the Ravens Pilots Seat, activated the comm systems to a specific frequency, and said in his standard emotionless tone, This is Archer. Mission Complete.
Good work, Archer, came the voice of Takeshis handler, Elaine Rubech, as her face appeared on the comm screen. Director Bashir will be pleased with this. Your next target is a Cardassian Gul commanding an Alliance base in the Ortega System.
Mission Acknowledged, Takeshi replied, keeping his emotionless expression. Ill get right on it. He then closed the transmission, manipulating the controls of the Raven and sending it towards the Ortega System.
***
As the transmission ended, Elaine sat there motionless at her station at Cerberus Headquarters for a few moments. She cared for her charge, Archer, like a sister would care for her brother, but shed also developed a bit of a crush on the young man. And shed never be able to get him to notice it because he was so emotionless, and so all she could do was support him like this.
Please be careful, Archer she whispered quietly, before standing up from her station to go get some rest.
Admiral Kirk surveyed the bridge. The damage was heavy and most of the bridge crew were dead. Spock's attempt at reforms were a poison to the empire, which even stalwarts like Kirk knew was on its way out. Maybe the idea of an empire was destined to fail, Rome, England, history was littered by fallen empires, and maybe this one had run its course.
Three Klingon birds of prey surrounded the proud but battered Enterprise. There were ten when this ambush started, but the numbers were just too much, even for a legend like James T. Kirk. He might be able to take one more down, but he knew he was outgunned against a trio of vessels.
"The lead Klingon vessel is hailing us, Admiral" said Uhura. Kirk gave a nod and she activated the viewscreen. The face of Koloth filled it.
"The butcher of Organia himself. I would have expected more of a fight out of you, or are you getting too old for this?" sneered the Klingon.
"I would have expected more of a fair fight from someone who claims to be so honorable as you do, you worthless K'pekt." spat Kirk.
"You speak of Honor," the klingon laughed. "You know nothing of it. Come over here and meet me in honorable combat and I'll spare the lives of your crew. "
"Done" Kirk sneered.
Lieutenant Shayde quickly spun from her helm position and snapped to attention giving Admiral Kirk a salute. "It would be my honor to shuttle you to combat and stand as your second, since the poleron weapons have made the transporters useless." She winked at the Admiral.
Kirk got the message and said "On our way, you worthless veQ. Prepare to die."
"Today is a good day..." Kotolth said before Uhura cut him off.
"Come on Leutenant, let's not keep them waiting." Kirk headed to the turbolift with the junior officer in tow.
The ride in the turbolift was a quiet one. The admiral had barely known Shayde. She was a junior officer to the senior officer that died during that last combat. He knew everyone had an agenda, the question was what was it. So he asked.
"What's in it for you. You're nobody. You know they'll kill you as much as they'll kill me. You stay here and you might live."
Shayde smiled. "Sir, they're not going to kill either of us.
She reached into her tunic and Kirk's hand shot to his phaser. She gave a quick "It's OK, it's not a weapon" and filled the admiral in on her plan.
The shuttle cleared the hangar and glided effortlessly into space. Once on approach Shayde hailed the lead Klingon vessel.
"I'll enjoy this you klingon dog. You killed my son, now I'll send you to hell personally." Said the Admiral as the shuttle closed on the lead vessel.
"I can't wait to see you try, Kirk." Sneered Koloth in response.
Shayde brought the shuttle on a graceful approach. She tossed the recorder she used earlier in the turbolift over her shoulder and laughed. "Stupid gullible Klingons."
When she was within about 500 meters she tapped on the helm feverishly and brought the warp drive to an emergency start.
"What? Fire disrupt..." were the last things Shayde heard as she saw the starfield tear and the bird of prey impact the shuttle. It flew through the neck of the vessel shearing the bridge completely and then slammed straight into the main hull of the second. Both klingon ships burst into a brilliant ball of destruction as the Enterprise battered the third with what fight she still had in her. The third vessel didn't last long.
Admiral Kirk smiled and told Urura to open a channel to the transporter room.
"Scotty, did you get her?"
"Aye Admiral." the Scotsman replied. "A little singed but no worse for wear. Can't say that for the Klingons or me shuttle."
"Well then tell Lieutenant COMMANDER Shayde to get her butt back up here. Enterprise doesn't fly herself."
Bridge of the I.S.S. Asakura, Magellan-class research vessel, Reimers System
"So what is that thing?" Captain Kalen asked, staring at the bluish-purple swirling anomaly on the viewscreen
"I think that's one of the dimensional gates the Science Commission have been going on about," his science officer, Dutgra Joson, replied. "They've been seeding them everywhere around here. Ever since the alternate Starfleet closed off the big one in the Arawath System."
"Can we go through?" Kalen said.
"It seems stable, but are you sure that's a good idea? I mean there could be anything waiting on the other side. Federation, Klingons... Borg?"
"I'm well aware of that, Commander. However, the chances of jumping into the middle of a battle are slim. If the alternate Reimers System is as dead as this one, we'll be..."
He was interrupted by his tactical officer, a Vulcan female named Sovak. "Sir, there's something coming through the breach!"
"Identify!"
"It's a ship... Starfleet."
"Ours or theirs?"
"Theirs. Registry reads as NCC-101165, U.S.S. Arael. Some kind of advanced battleship. Reads as Gryphon-class. Oh? Captain, for some inexplicable reason they are hailing us."
"They probably haven't worked out where they are yet."
"But," Dutgra interrupted. "They flew through that portal. They were probably sent here."
"Think, Commander. That is a warship. If the Feds were doing research, they'd send a science ship. If they wanted to invade, they'd send a fleet. One lone escort means that it's here by mistake. Onscreen."
The viewscreen was filled with the image of a young woman. She had pale skin, brown hair, and a visible Borg implant on her cheek. "Eight of Twelve, acting Captain of the U.S.S. Arael," she said in the typical curt manner of newly liberated drones. "Our ship was dragged through a dimensional distortion. The Captain is dead and the ship has sustained major damage. It is unlikely that we would survive a return trip. Are you able to assist us?"
"Do you know where you are?" Kalen shot back.
"We were in the Reimers System, although I understand that the dimensional rift could have taken us to any point in spacetime..."
"No. I mean which side are you on. Scan this ship."
Eight looked confused, but gave the order. "I.S.S. Asakura," she read. "The Terran Empire. So we are in what is known in my dimension as the Mirror Universe?"
"I believe that's what you call it, yes."
"Regardless, are you willing to help us?"
Kalen laughed. "Why should we help you?"
"Why shouldn't you?"
"Oh, I don't know? How about the fact that I could disable your ship and hand it over to the Engineering Corps. We get all of the technology with none of the hassle."
"This is a warship, Captain. Entering into combat with us is not advisable."
"You said yourself, your ship is damaged. And just because Federation science vessels aren't heavily armed, doesn't mean that we're so naive. Surrender, and I'll be quite happy to drop you and your crew off at the nearest planet on our way back."
The transmission was cut from the other side.
"She cut the link, sir," Sovak explained.
"Thank you for stating the ob..." Kalen didn't get a chance to finish his sentence before the Asakura was rocked by an explosion.
"Transphasic torpedo!" Sovak said. "Fore shields holding at 88%."
"If she wants to be like that, fine," Kalen said. "Jam their targeting sensors, tractor beam when we're in range and fire at will. I want a readout on their capabilities."
"Shields at full power, hull integrity at about 35%, weapons power 40% and rising."
+++++
On board the Arael
"They're jamming our sensors, I can't get a lock on anything out there!" the ship's Andorian tactical officer reported.
"Fire a volley of torpedoes. Use visual aiming," Eight ordered. "Raekel, go to Engineering, do what you can to assist. Structural integrity is a top priority. Inform me as soon as we're fit to head back through the distortion."
The young officer nodded and then ran to the turbolift.
"Targeting sensors back online!" the Andorian shouted.
"Target the sensor pod on the dorsal side."
"Sir?"
"It's lightly shielded, now do it."
+++++
The Asakura was again shaken violently by an explosion.
"What now!" Kalen demanded.
"They hit the sensor pod. Dorsal shields down to 20%."
"Where's that tractor beam!"
"Coming in range in three, two, one... got them!" Sovak shouted.
"Hail them."
Eight's face appeared on the screen again.
"I was expecting something a bit more... interesting?" Kalen said. "Not much of a warship. Still, I'm sure that the boys in Engineering will make some use of it. Now, as you rejected my most gracious offer to surrender, your crew will be taken into custody and put to use in some nasty dilithium mine somewhere."
"I don't think that will be happening," Eight replied.
"Oh really? And why not?"
"I'm making preparations to eject the warp core. At current power, it will be pulled toward your tractor beam emitter. On contact the antimatter will annihilate, destroying your ship."
Kalen clapped slowly. "How clever. That plan would destroy us both. I thought Borg were supposed to be smart. To be efficient."
"You will be destroyed. We won't. The Arael is outfitted with advanced reactive shielding capable of withstanding the explosion."
"No shielding is capable of sustaining two warp-core breaches at close range, it's just not possible," Kalen replied. Internally, however, he was beginning to worry. Perhaps the UFP did have advanced shielding. Maybe she really would go through with her crackpot plan.
"The question is, Captain, do you want to find out. Are you willing to risk the lives of your crew on that assumption?"
Kalen thought for a minute or so, staring Eight down. "Release the tractor beam."
"Captain?" Sovak replied, shocked.
"Do it."
Outside, the Arael rounded the Asakura and headed straight for the portal.
"Well?" Kalen shouted. "Full Impulse, follow them! You thought I was going to give up?"
The two ships raced toward the anomaly, but the Arael was clearly faster. It would reach the portal long before the Asakura, and with the Asakura's targeting systems damaged by Eight's attack on the sensor pod, the crew were having difficulty locking on to the small warship.
"Sir," Dutgra began. "If we fire an antiproton beam at the distortion, we might be able to destabilise it, stop them from escaping." Kalen nodded, and she got to work preparing the pulse.
Meanwhile, the Asakura continued to fire half-blind toward the Arael. As the sensor systems were hastily repaired, more and more of the shots found home, and eventually a shot took out one of the Arael's nacelles.
+++++
"They hit the port nacelle, Captain!"
"Well, let's hope we reach the portal before they get the chance to finish us off, the helm is completely unresponsive," the helm officer announced.
"Eject the warp plasma, it may slow them down," Eight ordered. "It's useless to us now."
On the screen, Eight watched as the portal got closer and closer. Somewhere her inside cybernetic mind a spark activated, the spark of hope. The hope that they'd make it, the hope that the Asakura wouldn't be able to lock on and blow her ship away, the hope that she'd see her own reality again. She was ripped from her thoughts by a sudden flash on the viewscreen. "What was that?" she asked.
"Antiproton pulse!" a science officer shouted back. "They're trying to destabilise the rift!"
"Will we make it through?"
"No idea!"
"Launch all remaining torpedoes back at the Asakura's deflector array. I don't want them trying that a second time while we're inside!"
Five proton torpedoes shot toward the larger ship, two sailed straight past, two hit the sides of the deflector but one hit the array itself.
The Arael headed into the anomaly which by this point was crackling violently with unstable antiproton energy. The small ship was buffetted and hit with energy discharges, but after about half a minute it emerged back into normal space.
"Damage report!" Eight demanded.
"Er... we're running on emergency power, thrusters only, the shields are down, life support is failing and don't even think about weapons."
"What about the anomaly?"
As the Arael slowly turned around on its thrusters, the crackling distortion became visible again. It pulsed with an intense white light for a few seconds before collapsing completely.
"Captain, we're being hailed," the tactical officer said.
"What is it now?"
"Don't worry, Captain, it's definitely a Federation signature. We're only going to be able to get audio with the state of these systems."
"Put it through."
There was a pulse of static before the message resolved. "...U.S.S Arael, do you receive me? Does anybody read me?"
"Yes, we read you. We're damaged but alive. What is your current position?"
"Luckily for you, on the edge of the system, ETA about ten minutes."
"Hang on, I recognise that voice," the helm officer said uneasily.
"It is... familiar," Eight agreed. "Captain? Would you mind telling me your name and that of your vessel?"
"Er, of course... Yalesz Kalen, U.S.S. Asakura. Is that important?"
"No. It is just... curious."
"I like curious things. I'm looking forward to hearing the story. Kalen out."
Communications Officer Ryn swiveled around in her chair, Sir, incoming message from I.S.S. Revenge. Its real-time.
Pipe it to my ready room. Secure channel, ordered Commodore Jarek Armstrong of the Imperial Starship I.S.S. Resolute, standing up from his command chair. He tugged down on his sleeveless command tunic, smoothing its greenish-gold cloth into place and adjusted his dagger and sash. Live real-time communications this far out were resource intensive and rarely used when a simple subspace missive would accomplish the same purpose for a tenth of the energy outlay. This must be important. He left the bridge and entered the small private room off of the bridge.
He moved to the viewscreen at the desk and keyed in his access code. A stern Andorian face appeared on the screen. Her antennae were thrust forward like two striking serpents, showing anger or at the very least extreme annoyance. Armstrong was privately amused; Andorians were a passionate people as they liked to say; it made them easy to read.
Commodore, the Andorian began, saluting, is this a secure channel?
Armstrong returned the salute, his right fist over his heart before extending his arm, palm outward, Of course, Captain Firal. You may speak freely. Jareks eyes narrowed and his mouth quirked into an ironic half-smile. All ship-to-ship communications were monitored, both electronically and by Imperial agents, present in all ship crews to some extent especially since that half-Vulcan interloper had seized the throne on Terra. No one had predicted the meteoric rise of Spock after Kirks ham-fisted blunder with the Halkans; rumor had it that Kirk was assassinated by his own mistress after failing to follow Imperial protocol to subjugate the uncooperative Halkan population, but his body was never found. That same mistress was now Spocks personal companion and confidant at the Imperial Palace; no doubt a reward for her faithful service.
Captain Firals antennae twitched almost imperceptibly; the Andorian equivalent of clearing ones throat.
Commodore Armstrong took the hint, One moment, there has been increased ionic storm activity in this region, let me compensate, the screen flickered several times as the terminal cycled to a randomly determined encryption algorithm. A picture-in-picture display showed a pre-recorded military update from Captain Firal to Commodore Armstrong; thats what any eavesdroppers would see.
Much better, Jarek said as he seated himself at his desk and poured himself a glass of Aldebaran Whiskey from the nearby bottle. He took a swig of the fragrant green liquor, swishing it around his mouth casually as an implant in the roof of his mouth tested it for toxins; detecting none, he swallowed, appreciating the spreading warmth. No one had tried to poison him yet, it being such an obvious means of removal, but he never ruled out some ambitious amateur trying one of the classics.
The Andorian captains antennae relaxed into a neutral position. You got the gift I sent, Firal said, indicating the glass Jarek held with a nod of her head.
Yes, an excellent vintage, and fast becoming a rarity since the unfortunate accident that rendered most of Aldebarans arable land toxic and barren, Jarek responded as he finished what was in his glass and smiled. How fortunate that there were several off-world concerns ready to pick up the slack. Someone made a tidy profit there, didnt they?
Captain Firal nodded briefly, Well, I know how you like green things. Firals antennae were stock still, an Andorian poker face, but her tone was plain.
Jarek raised an eyebrow. Obviously, that comment was aimed at his Orion Communications Officer, Anea Ryn. It was no secret on board that he had assigned Anea to more personal duties in recent weeks and evidently that news had reached Firal which meant she still had at least one contact onboard informing for her. Careless, thought Jarek, never let personal feelings deprive you of a valued resource like a well-placed spy. Jealousy ill suits you, ShalanTora.
Captain Firal looked vaguely insulted, Only cautious, as anyone should be around an Orion, sir. Weve both got too much on the line to risk on foolish dalliances.
Nice try, the commodore thought, but I could always read you, dear girl, ever since you were a cadet. No one can replace you, Tora, he said with a placating smile, using his affectionate nickname for her. And, in fact, Ryn is an Imperial spy.
Firals antennae waggled momentarily showing a mixture of alarm and confusion before she tamped it down and regained her composure; her expression never changed. I assume that she will have an unfortunate accident soon, then?
Jarek was silent, seeming to consider whether to pour himself another drink. His eyes were smiling teasingly, though.
Commodore! Firal barked irritably.
That Andorian temperament, Jarek mused. For now she serves our purposes. She is clearly unaware that my enhanced metabolism makes me immune to her biochemical charms but by playing the fool for her, I make sure she only relays what I wish Imperial Starfleet Command to know.
A dangerous ploy, sir, Firal said finally, but I defer to your greater experience. Jarek sighed inwardly; that was Toras way of calling him an old fool while conceding the point.
You didnt contact me to see if I got your present. Has there been a development on your end? Jarek inquired.
Indeed. Spocks machinations are deviously subtle in the extreme, more befitting a Romulan than a Vulcan. He has an uncommonly disciplined and powerful mind, but my Betazoid assets have finally come through for me.
Jareks mouth twisted sourly; he disliked telepaths and would not tolerate them on his ship, but Tora harbored no such prejudice and employed several covertly as spies in key positions throughout the fleet. And? Jarek asked as he reined in his distaste.
You were correct. Spock is slowly but surely destroying the Empire. His social reforms weaken every aspect of our society. Imperial Intelligence is expending more resources watching its own citizens and ship commanders than foreign threats. He alienates our allies, allows crucial treaties to lapse, and encourages our enemies through inattention and carelessness. The fleet goes wanting for lack of funding; some commanders reduced to marauding for crucial resources. Our borders have never been more at risk. He proclaims it the beginning of a new Golden Age but it is death by a thousand cuts.
Armstrong nodded absently as Tora finished. How long would you say this process will take?
As I said, its subtle. Depending on how perceptive, and ambitious, our enemies are, it could still be years perhaps decades, but no longer than that.
And our side projects? How do they progress?
We have caches of weapons, latinum, and valuable commodities stockpiled in sleeper vaults on several Imperial worlds and some outside the Empire as well.
If possible, move as much as we can out of the Empire. My own investigations have detected definite diplomatic maneuverings between the Cardassians and Klingons. I have done what I can to slow the process but the bloods already in the water. I suggest we make our move sooner rather than later. Meet me at the designated coordinates in one standard week.
Captain Firal nodded curtly. It shall be so, at least some of the Empire will survive through us. She saluted formally and signed off.
Jarek sat back and steepled his fingers, staring at the blank screen. I didnt survive the Eugenics Wars, cryonic suspension on an experimental sleepship, and six assassination attempts to meekly submit as some half-blooded traitor poisons us from within.
Ryn would have to be dealt with immediately. He couldnt risk her informing her superiors of his actions. He poured himself another swig of the whiskey and downed it in one gulp. He retrieved an ampoule from an inner pocket in his tunic and emptied the contents into the remaining whiskey and recapped the bottle, swirling the liquor a few times. He stood and exited the ready room, taking the bottle with him.
As he came onto the bridge, he noted Lt. Ryns slender green fingers quickly move over her communications console; no doubt queuing his decoy report for transmission to her Imperial masters.
Lieutenant Ryn, join me in my quarters. I have some reports, he sloshed the whiskey in the bottle for emphasis, I need to go over with you, Jarek made for the turbolift as Ryn secured her station and rose to join him, a sweet smile on her lips. The turbolift doors scythed shut behind her.
Ihnoc through the mirror? Well it happened in 2409. Their 2409. No time jumps or anything of the sort. It all started on a return to Deep Space Nine when the Satsuma was caught in some kind of massive scale transporter beam. The beam transported us initially a couple of light years. Nothing serious but since the phenomenon was so unique, we went back to take better readings.
This time, the beam had changed, and initiated a multidimensional transport. It felt unnatural, like there was something we were supposed to see from that transport. And something we did see. We arrived in what is so often called the Mirror Universe. For a while it wasn't immediately obvious but then we encountered a small flotilla of Terran ships, fighters mostly. After everything I tried to explain, they opened fire and obviously notified their superiors.
I knew it wasn't long before we encountered something big, like the Klingon-Cardasian Alliance, whom I didn't want to entangle myself with. I pulled up what information we had and distributed it. We made sure to prepare the crew for their alter egos and focussed on trying to find a way back. We theorized that such transporter technology may also be found in parallel, or may even possibly originate here.
Our theory turned out to have merit. Upon returning to the parallel co-ordinates, long range scans picked up something massive; a huge Borg transwarp conduit that seemed to have no discernible destination. The complex was guarded by at least 8 cubes and other small vessels that were locked in combat with a group of Terran ships. Upon scanning the engagement, we found the lead vessel; the Satsuma. Far from the Terran Nebula, it was what could best be described as a Defiant. It felt fitting to the stereotype that a diplomatic ship be incarnated as a lethal warship there.
I decided, since the Borg were unlikely to lend us their big toy and also likely to be the cause of our arrival, to open a channel with the Satsuma. I expected me, with eye-liner and maybe a cape, scar down the cheek and likely Leila, my Orion helm officer, on a leash. Instead I got Sianna, my cousin and first officer, from the Mirror Universe as a Captain. Funnily enough, Leila was indeed on a leash.
I asked where my counterpart was and if we could barter a trade of assistance for use of the Borg hub. Sianna being as intelligent as in our universe, accepted and despite the desperate odds we whittled the numbers down to a few cubes but kept my whereabouts to herself. I imagined she'd probably stabbed me in my sleep or something. However, the battle had become more difficult. The Borg were adapting and seemed to be outwitting me at every turn.
Then I found out why. The Satsuma was ensnared in a tractor beam and the shields failed. In a moment I saw why I wasn't on the mirror ship. Appearing in front of me, minus the hair and skin pigmentation, was me. Assimilated. That was my fate here. It became clear that it hadn't been long as the drone was still in it's uniform. I was surprised when it spoke alone and made no hostile move.
Then he began speaking as other Borg took the ship, we are the Borg. We have brought you here for assimilation after we acquire the knowledge you possess for dimensional transport. I thought he was joking but it turned out the drone, dubbed Five, was uniquely tasked to make multidimensional transport possible for the Borg and he had chosen me as his first target. The idea sounded terrible. The Federation had to deal with two universe's worth of Borg, as well as everything else?
We locked ourselves in combat. Our anti-assimilation techniques, unknown to the Borg there, helped us clear the ship and win over the battle. Five escaped to a ship and fled, likely what I would have done. Mirror Sianna requested we leave through the hub and after a few hours we understood enough of the technology to initiate the transport. I don't know what became of them after that.
I have this funny feeling, every time I look in the mirror, I'm going to see Five staring back. Probably the most ingenious foe I've met thus far. Likely, the most deadly.
Today we start the two-week run of the sixth Lit Challenge: Not THAT guy...
Write about your Captain having to interact with another character (or even NPC) they really cannot stand for a number of reasons.
Remember when that one officer was transferred to your ship? He's been a pain in the neck since they stepped off that transporter platform. Or that new Fleet General? Who does she think she is; just because Mommy came from a great house! And do NOT get my started on that new diplomat you were send to chauffeur around the quadrant...
This is the writer's thread.
The Discussion Thread can be found HERE.
We also have an index page of stories HERE.
The rules may change from one to the other, but I'd like to give a quick recap each time. These may grow as we move on, so feel free to also give feedback!
Each Challenge will run for two weeks. For 2 weeks we will sticky a subject and have at it.
There are no right or wrong entries. If you write 500 words of 3000: Write what inspired you and what your thoughts on the topic are - with one tiny mention:
Please heed the rest of the forums' rules when submitting your story!
Each poster can have one entry per character. Feel free to edit you post however to fix typos, add stuff or remove stuff as you see fit during the next two weeks.
After two weeks time, the thread will be locked and unstickied. If you wish to write on this topic after this time, there will be a place for this in the "Latecomer" thread.
We'll have two threads: One to post the stories, one to discuss the stories. *I will allow cross-linking between these two threads!!*
I will index your story by name and title (if you have one) for future reference.
First that idiot has me go on a wild goose chase near the Neutral Zone and then he has me handle the Devidian crisis.
Oh, wait that's right, I'm not supposed to talk about that. But what do I care, that moron sent us back in time with a disguise that was sure to provoke both sides! Did the guy not spend one day in Federation History? For a man who claims to be serving the Federation's interest he sure is a major TRIBBLE up.
Daily he is asking me to fix those satellites. I have had my engineering team themselves beam over there and fix them yet they mysteriously go down EVERY DAY! The man could TRIBBLE up installing a light bulb.
Franklin Drake, you are the bane of my existence. If you ever put my ship into danger again because of your idiocy, I will shove you out the nearest airlock myself.
Rygobeth tugged his Vice Admiral coat. He and his bridge crew were standing in front of the Transporter Pad, waiting for the arrival of the dignitary. They needed to make a good first impression. After all, with the war with the Klingon Empire, this contract negotiation would be crucial to produce more vessels to fight with.
"Admiral, we've received the signal. The dignitary's party is ready for transport."
Rygo glanced over his shoulder and nodded. The transporter chief operated the panel, and activated the transporter. The transporter pad whirred, and three figures materialized in motes of blue light. In the center was a Ferengi wearing incredibly regal clothes. He was obviously wealthy. Flanking him to the left and right was a pair of Hypurians wearing dark clothes, probably for security. As soon as the trio materialized, the Ferengi began hobbling off the platform and speaking in a raspy voice. "Ah, Admiral! Good to finally meet you... I expected you to be... human." Rygobeth's face remained neutral. He hadn't made it to Ambassador without being able to take a few racial comments, although it hadn't helped that he was the only known living member of his race.
Rygobeth said, "It's nice to finally meet you, as well, mister..." His voice trailed for a moment. Admiral Quinn hadnt told Rygo the Ferengis name! Rantik, you nitwit! The Ferengi answered, a little rudely. Rygobeth replied, more politely than the diplomat had spoken, Thank you, Rantik. Admiral Quinn neglected to-. Rantik interrupted. Dont make excuses! And speaking of Quinn, he bragged about this ship quite a bit. Begin the tour! Rygobeth sighed quietly, annoyed. Rygobeth replied, more cheery than he had felt since the Ferengi beamed aboard, Of course! Right this way.
The tour took an hour or so. Rantik had nothing but complaints. Bah, I could find better in Romulan refugee camps! You call that impressive? Thats not fit for me to spit on! At one point, Rantik decided to try the replicator, ordering a bottle of Synthahol. He took a sip and spat it in Rygobeths face. You call THIS Synthahol? THIS is PATHETIC! He then poured the bottle onto the ground. Rygobeth, through all of this, contained his temper to the point of exploding. Finally, they arrived at Rantiks quarters. He walked in and said, Is THIS the best youve got? No WONDER the Empire is winning the war He then moved toward his baggage (which had been transported here upon beaming aboard), opened it, and pulled out a number of objects. They were trinkets, probably personal effects, and brought them to the Admiral. He groaned, You can have them for 15 slips of Latinum each. Rygobeth politely said, No, thank you. Rantik seemed offended. It WASNT an option! BUY IT! This was the straw that broke the camels back. With an explosive yell, he cried out at Rantik, SHUT THE FERENGI UP!
Rantik laughed. I like that little play on words. Its about TIME you reacted! Im impressed, you Federations really are patient. Itll be a PLEASURE having my mines selling exclusively to the Federation! Theres no better tritanium and dilithium in the quadrant! The annoying, testy Ferengi laughed as Rygo walked away. Rygo walked back out, thinking, What was that? He was testing me? Arrogant Ferengi
"What in the name of Manna Mordeth were you thinking?! You nearly plunged us into another war!"
"Krovennan, I-"
"Don't you dare "Krovennan" me! You know my title full and well and you will address me by it while you are onboard my ship!"
Very well, Vice Admiral. What about when we a-"
The diplomat's snide question was cut short by a loud crash on Krovennan's desk, were there was once a prisine surface below his fist was now a fist sized dent in the metal, his Andorian First Officer, Tallasa, kept her gaze forward, she knew better than to annoy Krovennan now, this incompetent diplomat loved to insult everyone, even the ones he was trying to make peace with, it was no less of a miracle that he was still a diplomat.
"Unless spending the rest of the return trip in the brig is something you aspire to, I'd choose your next words very carefully."
"Of course Vice Admiral, I believe I shall retire to my quarters until you are in a mood better befitting a Vice Admiral."
The aged Saurian man got up slowly and walked even slower, a look of superiority on his face as he walked out of the room that was Krovennan's quarters, Tallasa watched him out of the corner of her eye until the doors hissed closed behind him, when her attention turned to Krovennan, who had fallen silent.
Tallasa waited as the tension became so thick the knife would get stuck. Krovennan gazed ahead and downwards in silence for another minute, before Tallasa acted on a sudden instinct to move out of the way, as she rolled away from behind Krovennan, a chair soon found itself embedded in the console right where her head had been.
"That arrogant, condescending, incompetent surkama! Of all the Vice Admirals they ask to ferry this idiot to and fro they ask me, why the hell hasn't someone shot him yet? I was certain that last delegation was going to!"
Krovennan had now taken to swearing in Vilscaran, since he had just quite strongly questioned the marital status of the diplomat's parents, Tallasa knew that was the sign that the Federation was not in his mind, so she stood at ease and walked towards Krovennan.
"I know your struggle Krovennan, I have no idea why the Federation put you in charge of a diplomat opposed to the Vilscaran Empire, but we have no choice, your the representative of the Vilscaran Empire, you can't throw him out of the airlock, especially while the negotiations are ongoing."
Tallasa put her hand on Krovennan's shoulder, the rock hard muscles soon softened as Krovennan relaxed.
"Your right Tallasa, it's hard to keep myself from welding him inside his quarters, but I suppose breaking a console or two will suffice until we reach DS9."
"Krovennan, you've known me since we were both Ensigns, when have I not been right about these things?"
"Point taken, I'm going to go walk around the ship, call in an Engineering Team to deal with the mess."
"Yes Vice Admiral."
Becoming formal once more Tallasa tapped her combadge, Krovennan's back disappeared behind the doors just as her combadge responded.
"Engineering here."
"Gyzit, I need you to send a repair team to the Vice Admiral's quarters."
"The Diplomat this time?"
"Yeah."
"They are already on their way, Engineering out."
Meanwhile, Krovennan walked throughout his vessel, the corridors were so much brighter than those on Vilscaran vessels that he was used to, where black metal and most power diverted to essential systems made the corridors very dark indeed. Krovennan still sometimes found it disorientating, but today he simply ignored this fact and pressed on.
Throughout the corridors he walked crewmen went about their business, Drehera was scanning a group of crewmen for an illness that had been spreading among the ship, Kri'gak was busy taking his job as Chief of Security to heart, currently berating two crewmen for getting in a brawl over suspected tampering with each other's replicator.
Krovennan felt it refreshing to be among the crew, like many Vilscarans, he was most at home on a ship, and here, on his own vessel, he felt at ease once more.
This was short lived however, as the trip went on, the diplomat became more and more insufferable, frequently complaining over trivial matters to any crew member who passed, staring over the shoulder of the Engineering crew's work and then seemingly compuled to break something the moment their backs are turned. At one point, the Diplomat cornered a few unwilling crew members into a conversation where he almost suggested that the Vilscaran race were a liability and they should be cast off, naturally the crew members reported this to Krovennan, who soon got Gyzit's teams busy rebuilding parts of his quarters.
Krovennan relaxed the moment he heard the distant mechanical sound that signalled the Blacksabre's docking with DS9, Krovennan slumped slightly in his chair on the Bridge, after afew minutes the call was made that the diplomat had left the ship, Krovennan immediately transferred command of the Bridge to tallasa and headed to Quark's.
As Krovennan clutched the clay and metal bottle used to hold Vilscaran Whisky he mused back and decided things could not get any worse. This thought kept him calm until he took a drink of the Whisky, he almost spat it back out. Krovennan had had enough, Krovennan saw Betran in the back and beckoned him over, the Ferengi came over oblivious to Krovennan's anger, but he got the message when Krovennan grabbed the front of his collar and pulled him down to his level.
If the message was still not clear, the moment Krovennan brought his right hand upp and triggered the mechanism to release two black duranium claws from the wrist attachment Betran had no doubt Krovennan was not happy.
"Listen you little worm, when I agree to pay you to import Vilscaran Whisky, I expect you to import it! If you serve me this replicated dishwater again, I'll refashion your lobes with these claws, am I clear?"
Betran nodded and Krovennan released him, Betran took the offending knock off away and kept his distance from Krovennan, who kept silent until he returned to his Quarters.
In advanced, I'd like to apologize for going over the character limit. I haven't even started writing yet, but if you've kept up with my past works...I have a tendency to rant.
USS Normandy, en-route to Deep Space 12
Standard Earth Date: July 26th, 2411
Shipboard time: 0332
A weird whirring sound awoke Arachnidus. He sat up in his bed, looking to his left to see if his his bed-mate was responsible, but there, Lieutenant Kate Lawson lay, sound asleep under the covers. As he looked around the dim quarters, illuminated only faintly by the light of a nearby nebula, he saw what the disturbance was.
"Commander, we need to talk. Now."
Woken up by the voice, Lieutenant Lawson sat up in the bed.
"Richard, what-" she stopped herself upon seeing the intruder, and lifted the blankets to cover herself. Arachnidus got out of bed, wearing nothing but his shorts and walked over to the balding, aged, holographic figure that appeared in his room.
"Doctor Zimmerman, I don't mean to be rude, but what the hell are you doing in my quarters?". The doctor looked over to the bed and saw the captain's companion, quickly pulling herself off the bed, blankets included, towards the bathroom, and smirked.
"Sorry to intrude, commander, but I have to talk to you about installing these holographic emitters on all the de-". Before he could finish, Arachnidus lifted his hand to his holographic mouth and spoke.
"Doctor Zimmerman, let me be clear. I have the utmost respect for you and your work, and I will conduct myself as any Starfleet officer should. But right now, it would be best for you to go back to your quarters and stay there. Or go to the holodeck. Somewhere. Anywhere that isn't here or another one of my officer's quarters. Understood?" he said. This was not the first time Arachnidus was interrupted during the night during the trip from Jupiter Station to Deep Space 12 on the border of the Alpha and Beta quadrants. The trip wasn't long, only a day or so at maximum warp, but due to warp drive upgrades, the Normandy was stuck at Warp 6 and without any slipstream capabilities.
Part of this was because Doctor Louis Zimmerman, the father of modern holography, revolutionary computer designer and notorious pain in the neck, or analogue for species without, had come aboard to upgrade the Normandy's holodecks and central computer, leaving them running on secondary command processors for the entire mission; only the bioneural gel processors in the ship kept the vessel going.
Normally, this would be just a nuisance, but Doctor Zimmerman was a peculiar man. He was responsible for the EMH in the sickbay, which had, on several occasions, helped CMO Narinaya and her medical staff keep the crew alive in some particularly vicious battles both on the Normandy and Arachnidus' previous command, the Luna. However, that did not make up for his rudeness, which was only bolstered by his god complex.
Doctor Zimmerman was diagnosed with a fatal illness resembling that of the Vidiian Phage in 2376, but cured by the EMH Mark I from Voyager. However, several years later, he had succumbed to the illness, which had resurfaced and was unresponsive to treatment due to it's genetic nature. Death, though, was not enough to take Zimmerman from the world, and he'd devised an ingenius method of transferring his consciousness into a holomatrix. For some reason, this method had not worked on anybody else, and only the good doctor, but the results spoke for themselves. Now in a holographic body, he was constrained to the same physical dimensions of every other hologram. Not satisfied with that, he reverse engineered the mobile emitter used by Voyager's EMH for himself, and he was now free to travel just as he did in life- except for when the battery died every few months or so. To prevent that, when on board a ship, he existed much as any EMH; in the confines of a holoemitter equipped room.
Unfortunately for Commander Arachnidus 'Vadam and the crew of the USS Normandy, that included all of Engineering, the Bridge, Sick Bay, the holodecks, the Shuttle Bay and most crew quarters; all the places that a medical emergency could conceivably happen. Which led to tonight's event.
"Yes, captain. Goodbye!". The holographic image of the doctor faded away. The door of the bathroom slid open and Lieutenant Lawson appeared, dressed in a Starfleet t-shirt belonging to Arachnidus that read Class of 2399, and shorts.
"Richard, I don't care if I have to protest formally as second officer, but that man needs to seriously learn some manners. Mark's been saying that the entire crew is complaining, he's worse than the EMH". Her use of Arachnidus' name translated into English, as usual, did little to comfort the Commander. He always felt on edge when a VIP was on board; more so when that VIP was a hologram who happened to pop into his room while he slept next to one of his fellow officers. No matter how happy he was with her, and no matter that there were no regulations against it, he was still a little uncomfortable with the arrangement while on board the ship.
"Well, that makes sense. He did create them, after all. He'll be gone in a few days" Arachnidus said, while dressing in his standard Red-Black Command uniform. While he put on his pants, Kate walked to the replicator.
"Two Raktajinos, one sweet". She lifted the two mugs and handed the sweet one to Arachnidus. After taking a sip of the artificially created and warmed Klingon "coffee" (Ensign Bagh, the resident Klingon on Normandy, once told him that Klingons had no need for coffee- they simply enjoyed the taste), he looked at Kate and spoke.
"You know, your duty shift's in two hours. You don't need to come now, go back to sleep."
"Are you telling me that as my boyfriend, or as the captain?" she asked flirtatiously.
"A little bit of both, I suppose" he said, as he set down the drink and embraced her. After a slightly more than PG-13 kiss, he let go of her hand and walked towards the door, picking up the mug of Raktajino on the way out. "I'll be on the bridge. Good...morning, I guess, lover". She blew him a kiss and he walked off towards the turbolift. His best friend and XO, Mark Parker, had the bridge. He had been suffering from a bout of insomnia and needed the command experience, especially considering the entire crew was going to be reviewed in a few weeks as a precursor to the wholesale promotion of the crew. It seemed Starfleet had finally found it odd that they put a Commander in charge of a ship of the line. Getting back on track, Arachnidus tapped his combadge with his free hand and spoke low, not wanting to disturb any crew members that might be asleep, even knowing the walls were soundproofed.
"Commander 'Vadam to the bridge. I'm on my way up". The heads up was immediately responded to by Lieutenant Commander Parker.
"Aye, sir."
After a brief turbolift ride, Arachnidus stepped out from the port alcove and walked onto the bridge. The setup was like a mix between the Sovereign and Galaxy classes, with a large arch behind the Captain, XO and adviser chairs, and two independent consoles flanking them for Ops and Engineering. To the front of the ship, by the view screen, were two conns; one for Navigation and the other for Flight Control. To aft of the Command Seats, were three sciences stations, each serving a variety of purposes. Starfleet finally had the sense to put seats at each station; every one of them equipped with seatbelts, considering the odd amount of ramming and crash landings of the past fifty years.
As he walked to the seats and past the tactical arch, Lieutenant Commander Parker stood up.
"Captain on the bridge." As he spoke, the other officers looked up at attention.
"As you were." Arachnidus walked to his chair as Lt. Cdr. Parker arose and moved to the right to his own.
"Sir, there's a full report on your console."
"Thank you, commander. Anything interesting?" Arachnidus desperately wanted a distraction from the tedium of dealing with Doctor Zimmerman.
"Not much. Just the usual; reports from paranoid Deep Space captains about possible Undine incursions, more Borg sightings, a battle with the Klingons, gaseous anomalies...and about twenty complaints and six requests for a meeting from Doctor Zimmerman" the XO spoke. "Looks like you've got a busy day, Richard."
"Don't remind me. Might as well get started" Arachnidus responded. He pressed the comms button on his console and spoke. "Bridge to Doctor Zimmerman. This is the captain, I'll be in my ready room if you'd like to talk."
Immediately, a response came through. Not verbally, but right in front of his eyes. For the second time in twenty minutes, Doctor Louis Zimmerman appeared before his eyes in a shimmer of photons and forcefields.
"Finally. Well?" he said. Arachnidus looked at Mark and stood.
"Commander Parker, you have the bridge" he said as he walked off to his ready room door located at the starboard-aft side of the bridge, past the science stations. The pair walked in. "Please, sit, doctor".
As the two sat down, Arachnidus could sense this meeting was going to be interesting, to say the least.
"You wanted to talk, doctor?"
"Yes, captain. The upgrades are coming along adequately, but your chief engineer and his staff are being ridiculously stubborn! And on top of that, your ship's holoemitters are out of alignment! Do you know what it feels like to be materialized inside a bulkhead? It's oddly comforting, but that's not the point!" Zimmerman protested angrily.
"I'm sorry, doctor. But Lieutenant Bramner briefed me on the situation. You want to download your holomatrix into our main computer and rewrite the code manually, yes?" the captain spoke diplomatically.
"Yes, it would greatly speed up the process."
"But aren't there a variety of problems with that?". Arachnidus would allow it, but after being told of the possible catastrophic consequences, he agreed with his Chief's assessment and denial.
"Oh, they're not that bad" the doctor said, flailing his arms in the air to get the point across, as if he were waving the concerns away. Arachnidus' eyes widened.
"...Doctor Zimmerman, I've been told that the code subsection you're working on is the one that manages the computer's interface with the exotic matter containment for the slipstream drive. And that if something goes wrong and that containment fails, Main Engineering could become the epicenter of a black hole. That's what I'd qualify as that bad" Arachnidus said. Though he was tired from being up at such an early hour, this was actually fairly amusing. He enjoyed these arguments with one of his inspirations. "Can't you just interface with a console and do it through one of them?".
"Captain Spider-man, I'm a doctor, not a keyboard. It would go much faster if I could just go into the computer and rewrite it at the source". Arachnidus almost burst out in laughter. He was human, but his parents named him for the Klingon translation of Richard; apparently, Brave Ruler in tlhIngan Hol sounded oddly similar to the English word Arachnid. As such, this left Arachnidus on the receiving end of some creative Spiderman insults as a child. Ironically, Spiderman was his favorite super hero, so he didn't take it as much of an insult.
"I'll review it with the chief. And I planned on having the holoemitters refit anyway. You can oversee that, if you'd like". Arachnidus had a feeling this would satiate Zimmerman for the time being, until he could figure out a compromise for the computer upgrades. As the holographic avatar for one of the universe's most brilliant minds pondered the decision, the captain mentally remarked how amazing it was that the man was able to transfer his mind, his consciousness, some would even say his soul, into a modular computer program that was responsible for a hologram's behavior, looks and basic being. The thought was broken by the man's response.
"Alright. But I expect to be informed of your decision immediately."
"Deal. Is that all, Doctor?" Arachnidus was eager to get back to the bridge.
"Yes" Zimmerman said, as he walked out of the cabin. Arachnidus wondered about this act. Why not just transfer his avatar back to his quarters? Guess some habits die hard. A thought then dawned on the captain. One of his idols, as annoying as he was, was on board his ship. This may be the only opportunity he could ever have to discuss...anything, with him.
"Doctor, hold on a second" he said before the man could leave the room. "I wanted to know, would you like to join me on the holodeck later, say, around 0900? I have some ideas I'd like to discuss with you". Zimmerman was visibly surprised by the offer, and smile crested on his face.
"You know, I read your file. Average student, but all of your professors said you had the potential to be great, but that you were lazy. I could teach you some stuff before I go. See if they were right. Are you sure your girlfriend, that Lieutenant, won't mind?" he asked, a sarcastic yet elated tone in his voice.
"I think she'll forgive me this once."
"So be it. See you at 0900, Spidey". With that, his avatar blurred out of existence, likely going to main engineering to supervise the refit of the ship's holoemitters. Walking back to his chair, he looked at his XO, who promptly commented.
"He appears. Seems like you survived the meeting". Sitting back in his chair, the captain stared at the view screen. Even though it looked 2D, it was essentially a hologram, allowing it to display trillions of colors and to show depth, and to reconfigure itself as necessary; one of Doctor Zimmerman's inventions. Without this screen, that they took for granted every day, who knows how history could have wound up? As the Temporal Prime Directive stated, any little change could alter the timeline irreparably. How much of space would he have missed if Zimmerman hadn't figured out the holographic display? After the thought settled in, he turned to his XO.
"Mark, as much of a pain in our collective asses as he is, the man's a genius. And to be honest, I don't think he's really that bad on the inside. Just gotta get him out of there. Sorta like me in 6th grade, if you'll recall."
"That I do. Still, he is giving us a bit of trouble."
"That may be so, but...we'll probably come out of this all the better. At the worst, with some new holoemitters and a computer upgrade. Could be a lot worse, man. Tell Kyvaune I want the detail assigned to the holoemitter refit to cooperate entirely with Doctor Zimmerman". Lieutenant Commander Parker was visibly a little taken off guard by the order, but still complied.
"Aye, sir."
As he sat in his chair, pondering the day ahead, Arachnidus wondered what he could learn- and how thankful the crew would be once Zimmerman was gone. He felt sympathy for the man, because he knew why his crew would be annoyed. Zimmerman was temperamental, arrogant and so stubborn that not even death could get rid of him. But he was still a man, and the benefit of the doubt, in light of all the good he'd done, was something the captain could spare.
Very well General Honda rely the signal to my Ready Room Terminal then take the escort vessels back to port
and await further instructions.
Ancient untranslated tongue <Lord this isent another Omege is it?>
<No Loyal Vassel, We are in the Federation services now not the IJN>
Computer Seal Ships Comm until further command; Relay message and authenticate
<Working.. Signal is from SB 39. ADM ?/]
Command Code Tinaka SB Shinkoku..
<Access Granted>
Audio only [using command codes from SB 39]
Hello stranger divert your ship to meet a shuttle in the KAzon Expanse,, [click]
Computer attempt to bounce signal of the Tal Sh'r relay..
<working>
Computer cross index with Vulcan Science Academy.. Level Red MAtter Authorization VA Planetary Survival level.
HELM this is the Admiral.. Gravitate the Rotary Drive.. WARP 11.
Ships Captain to my Ready room on the Admirals Wing.
<swoosh> Salute Admiral you wish something?
I do order a diplomatic reception in Ten Forward with issue of type 1 phasers.. We i believe have a "special" guest to meet. One you may well remember.. set your Phasers to stun.. and Ready Security for inspection in 15 minutes. Dismissed.
Of Course Admiral.
Watching the ships operations progress from the bridge cam.. The Admiral went to the Ready Room Container and locked access hatch and changed.
Admiral ,3 hours out.. Orders?
Scan for Taejon imminence
Signal Contact Shuttle on long range system. Speed warp 5 bearting 210 degrees high.
Tactical Train weapons on them and signal.. repair tractor beam to shuttle bay and erect a force field stasis field.
?Admiral..
DO IT!
Walking onto the Bridge
Admiral on the Bridge Orders?
Team with me to meet our guest. take you weapons out left palm show me the settings.. Good
This is a direct order. Disregard anything our guest says and treat him like hes an Undine.. Jam his shuttles COM now.. and follow me.
Aye AYE!
Smiling the Welcoming Committee procedures to the secure quarantine Shuttle bay docking clamps 2.
Cheif Ready to flood the area with Anzine gas the second anything strange happens
With pleasure Admiral.
The Shuttle hatch <swooshes open>
A Crew Buzz cut male in a Black jacket emergess with an angry look and phaser..
Put that thing down and step over here "DEar Friend"
Greetings Captain Drake oh what an unwarranted surprise or please it is to see you again..
What degree of peril do you wish to subjugate my worthy vessel to this time.
You by chance can prove your are not an Undine? Not <wink Adm Zelles Brother?>
This morning at Starbase 39, we picked up a new member of the medical staff. This afternoon, he nearly killed a crewman, and this evening, he single-handedly managed to save the entire crew from disaster. Even, as I record this log file, I still dont know what to think of him. But, I have the distinct feeling that the next few weeks are going to be extremely interesting to say the least.
Chep Magosh is a young doctor. His Starfleet record is a kilometer long and is filled with a mixed bag of disciplinary actions and recommendations. He had been promoted and demoted so many times that I was hesitant, at first, to bring him onboard. My overall impression of his service record was that he speaks his mind too frequently which often lands him into trouble. But, his skill and ability in his chosen profession is unparalleled. What I find the most interesting, though, is how exactly he managed to reach the rank of Commander, despite having spent more time as a Lieutenant than me and my bridge crew has spent in Starfleet combined.
When he came aboard the USS Tobarrus, I personally went down to the transporter room with Drem, my chief medical officer, to meet this notorious little man. Despite the fact that he was Tellarite, I expected more as the small unimposing man beamed aboard. Knowing his reputation, I braced myself for a traditional Tellarite greeting. But, it never came. Chep Magosh was polite and courteous. He stepped off the transporter pad, approached us, and offered me his hand. He was exactly what youd expect from a Command-level officer in Starfleet.
I just looked at him, stunned. This wasnt the same officer I had read about. There must have been a mistake. Drem jabbed an elbow into my side. It broke me of my trance. I took his hand and introduced myself. I accompanied Drem and Dr. Magosh to sickbay. I silently observed the new addition to my crew with skepticism. They spoke of various surgical techniques, new drug treatments, and other things that were well beyond my pay grade as a Tactical officer and Captain.
We entered sick bay. I stood at the door as they went inside. Drem gave Dr. Magosh the 10 cent tour of our tiny sickbay. Coming from a cruiser and its spacious interiors, surely the size of our sickbay would be enough to get a reaction from him. However, it did not. In fact, he complimented Drem for using the available space so expertly.
What in the name of To?
I excused myself and left sickbay to consider what to do next.
...
In my ready room, I was going over Chep Magoshs file once again. His last demotion was 8 years ago for a diplomatic incident he caused during first contact with the Malkonians. The report of the incident described him as picking and eating a Bokta fruit from the sacred courtyard outside the Malkonian Capital. Command was ready to kick him from the service, but Captain Lynya Taran had stepped in and saved his career. As a consequence for his actions, Chep had been ordered to escort Ambassador MarRela of Vulcan to a conference on Babel. The next several reports in his file detailed his activities en route, during and immediately after the conference, and included an account from Ambassador MarRela.
My communicator chimed, interrupting my research. Rubbing my eyes with one hand, I tapped the communicator with the other. It was Drem. She notified me that there had been an incident in sickbay. I rose from my chair and started the short trip to the door as she explained the situation. My pace quickened as I reached the turbolift and directed it to sickbay.
Dr. Magosh had made a dire mistake that nearly resulted in the death of a crewman. The crewman had come into sickbay with plasma burns from a faulty relay he had been replacing. Dr. Magosh had volunteered to treat the patient. According to Drem, the standard treatment protocol for plasma burns was Hexatriol, which Chep had followed precisely. The problem arose from his lack of familiarity with our crew, because this particular patient was allergic to hexatriol.
The crewman immediately went into anaphylactic shock and had stopped breathing. Before Drem could leave her office to find out what had happened, Chep was on top of the situation. He began asking all of the correct questions to determine what exactly went wrong. When he realized that he had administered the incorrect medication to this particular patient, he grabbed a hypospray, filled it with stenophyl, and handed it to Drem.
I stepped out of the turbolift and hurried down the hall to sickbay. I entered and searched the biobeds for any signs of life. Drem and Dr. Magosh were on either side of a biobed with a seemingly healthy engineer sitting up in bed. Drem was running a dermal regenerator over the remnants of the plasma burn. I approached the crewman, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and asked how he was doing. The crewman smiled and replied that he was feeling much better now.
I turned to Drem and asked to have a word with her. She nodded, handed Dr. Magosh the dermal regenerator and led me into her office. I closed the door behind me and asked for a detailed report. Fully aware of the transparent walls in the office, I made sure that my actions didnt reveal how upset I was to hear about this little incident so soon after his arrival. I argued that he was a hazard to the crew and demanded that he be put off the ship immediately.
It was a look I have seen many times, and I instantly recoiled away from her. I knew there was no arguing with her. She said it was an honest mistake, and that if anyone was responsible, she was. I didnt like it one bit, but I knew better than to argue with her when it came to her domain onboard the USS Tobarrus.
We left her office. Drem returned to the injured crewman as I made my way to the door. At the threshold, I stopped, turned around, and ordered Dr. Magosh to take the rest of the day off. Drem was about to object, when I shot her a gaze of my own. She took the dermal regenerator from Dr. Magosh, and told him to go ahead, but to report back first thing in the morning for his duty shift. I turned and walked out of sickbay without another word.
A few hours later, I was on the bridge. The USS Tobarrus was en route to a system deep within the Khazan Cluster. My science officer, Stobomoe, detected unusual radiation being emitted by a pulsar two light years off our present course. I ordered the ship to investigate the radiation readings. Stobomoe recommended that we stay at least half a light year away from the pulsar to avoid feeling any of its detrimental effects.
Stobomoe began his analysis of the radiation readings. I rubbed my temples as the first flashes of a migrane blurred my vision. Shaking my head, I pushed it to the back of my mind. I approached my science officer.
Fausto, my engineer, suddenly grasped his head in his hands and cried out in agony. Like a demolished building collapsing under the force of gravity, he slid out of his chair and onto the floor. I rushed over, crouched down beside him, and saw his face warp into a horrible mask of pain. I called down to Drem in sickbay and notified her that Fausto had collapsed. She was being overwhelmed with crewmen complaining of headaches, nausea, and in a few cases of unconsciousness, and she too was starting to feel its effects. Audria came over and helped me get Fausto to his feet. His legs were made of rubber. He leaned on her as they slowly made their way to sickbay.
Other members of my bridge crew began collapsing, including Stobomoe. It was getting difficult to concentrate. I took the helm and set a course out of the system at full impulse. It was getting more difficult to focus. My vision was starting to go dark. I forced myself out of the chair and made my way to the turbolift. I needed to get to sickbay.
The turbolift doors opened on deck 3. I stepped out and immediately saw a dozen crewmen lying on the floor unconscious, including Fausto and Audria. They had not made it to their destination. I stumbled. I clawed at the wall to get back on my feet and used it to support me as I made my way down the hallway as it stretched for hundreds of meters. When I finally made it to the sickbay, the door opened and I stepped inside.
Suddenly, I was falling through space as I lost consciousness.
I was aware of sounds going on all around me. I was regaining consciousness. I opened my eyes and cried out when I saw Chep Magoshs ugly mug only inches from my face. He kept repeating my name. Suddenly, the ship, the pulsar, and the radiation rushed back into my consciousness. I sat up.
Chep placed a hand on my shoulder and said that everything is fine now. I should take it easy for a bit. He continued to explain that he had been in the mess hall when a few people started getting sick. He helped them to sick bay, only to discover that Drem had also been afflicted with whatever was going on. Soon, more and more people started showing up with the same symptoms.
He wasnt totally immune to the pulsars effects. With so many coming down with the condition, he knew the ship was in trouble. He made his way to the bridge to discover the ships fate. Fallen crewmen were everywhere. He moved around them carefully to make sure that he did not further injure anyone. Once on the bridge, he checked the sensors and determined that the ship was heading in the wrong direction. It was moving towards the pulsar. At the helm, he plotted a course out of the system at high warp. He kept the ship on course. 1 light year 2 3, 4, 5; they were now far enough away that the pulsars unusual radiation was no longer affecting them. He brought the ship to a stop and began rousing the crew.
If it werent for the heroics of Dr. Chep Magosh, I dont know where we would be right now. Therefore, I am adding the record of this event to Dr. Chep Magoshs record with the hopes that Starfleet will get that man off of my ship and give him one of his own.
...The interior of the bioship was cramped and dark. It smelt like the inside of a very old and very worn training shoe and Tanar had to force himself not to gag on the foul odour that was constantly trying to attack his lungs.
...The pilot was only 5 metres in front of him at the main control, wired into his command chair via organic tubules. He could see the tripedal creature through a crack in the console he had climbed under. It was sitting awkwardly in a massive chair, or at the least a biomass moulded into the shape of a chair. The entire ship was alive, although not sentient; at least Tanar hoped so.
...The Cardassian who had spent most of his life in Starfleet had been captured by the Undine on a visit to his homeland. He had spent countless days in a holding cell before he had managed to escape the biodome by finding this ship, docked in what he assumed was a hanger bay, although garden would have been a more accurate description. He had tried to figure out how to operate the very alien controls when the huge Undine scuttled in. He had only just managed to dive under a crack in the ships wall, and land in something soft and sticky as the creature entered the chamber. He did not want to think what it was that he now sat in.
...At least half an hour had passed as the pilot had gone through what he assumed was a series of pre-ignition checks. Strange noises could be heard coming from inside the ship; a language from a com-link or ship functions? he could not tell. Finally the ship had rumbled into activity and had left the dome into fluidic space.
...Tanar knew he had act soon, although he had never flown anything as alien as a bio ship. Even if he could incapacitate the pilot he would have no way of creating a rift back into normal space, or even what part of his galaxy he would end up in. The Undine appeared to be able to cross vast areas of the galaxy from the Alpha quadrant, all the way to the Delta quadrant via fluidic space. One wrong move and he would find himself stranded a hundred years from home.
...Suddenly the ship shuddered. Tanar was unprepared for the jolt and was flung back into a cluster of pipes and tubes. The vessel shook again. It felt like they had hit some turbulence. A bioship rocked a third time, causing Tanar to hit his head. He cried out in pain for a split second. He instantly knew his mistake as the aliens head snapped back to look at his position. He had to move.
...Rolling from underneath the console, he sprang to his feet and threw himself at the still seated Undine. The flight threw the air seemed to take forever, as if time had slowed down. It gave him the opportunity to see a massive claw sweeping him away from his target. He crashed into a side console. A shower of sparks, and goo greeted him as he slunk down to the floor. The goo burned his skin and he tried to wipe it away as it seared at his flesh. He saw the huge alien standing above him, ready to strike. It all went blank.
...He opened his eyes gingerly, the bright light burned at him. Where am I? he thought to himself, his senses still dazed, pain rippling through his body.
...Hes awake, Captain. came the sound of a female voice to his right. He tried opening his eyes again, shielding them with his hand from the white light all around him. Well she does not sound Undine, he thought.
...I did not expect to find you here. came a strangely familiar voice. He looked towards the man and squinted as he sight returned to normal. He was short, dark skinned with a full beard. Not a very attractive man either. In fact not even a man. The voice was that of a Tellarite. His eyes focused more on the Federation captain. As the sharpness returned he let out a groan.
...Oh no, send me back to the Undine Ill take my chances there. he said bluntly.
...Ha, ha. Tanar you always knew how to say the most charming things. replied Captain Grak , with a certain edge in his voice.
...I learned it from you. Still a captain I see? snapped Tanar, pointing at his admiral pips.
...I like being a captain, keeps me on the front lines, unlike you desk huggers. He retorted.
...Good, Ill recommend you stay on the front lines, He sat up and looked around the sickbay. What happened?
...We had been sent into fluidic space to keep an eye on the Undine. We have been equipped with the latest sensors, they are far more effective against the Undine than anything your would have scene. said the Tellarites, grinning from ear to ear. He took great pleasure in gaining any advantage over his former captain. They had served together on the USS London, until Tanar had promoted him to Captain, if not for his excellent command ability but to get his off his ship. Shortly after Tanar was promoted to rear admiral and too left the London. He knew Grak wanted the captains chair of the London and the change in ships had annoyed him. His annoyance only further compounded when he found Tanar had left as well. Tanar suspected that Grak blamed him for the transfer, thinking that he knew about his leaving the London and only promoted Grak to captain early to stop him from getting that chair out of spite.
Then again it would not have been the first grudge he had held onto. Tellarites are confrontational by nature, and enjoy insults and aggressive behaviour in any conversation at any time of the day. Most none Tellarites find them annoying and rude. Tanar was not like most none Tellarites however, instead he found them very annoying and very rude. Perhaps it was his Cardassian upbringing of order and respect, discipline above all else.
...Grak continued. We detected a cardassian life sign coming from a bioship. We went to investigate, got into a little fire fight but we managed to beam onto their ship.
...I thought that was impossible. he interrupted.
...The captain snorted. Maybe for you perhaps. Technology has rolled on since you were last were out on the frontier. Tanar sighed and shook the cobwebs from his aching head.
...Anyway, the captain continued. when he arrived we found you and an undine standing above you about to rip your head off. We incapacitated the creature and brought you here. You had several nasty wounds and an infection from his DNA. You almost did not make it, but you pulled through. Cant have everything now can we? the Captain genuinely sounded disappointed.
...I guess Im tougher than I look. he said, a faint smile trickled across his face that his continued living was a source of great annoyance to the little creature.
...Or luckier. The venom in his voice almost tangible. We had a former drone on our ship. His nano probes cured you.
...Tanar rose to his feet carefully, and rotated the stiffness out of his neck. Where is the Relentless now?
...The Relentless? replied Grak puzzled.
...My ship, he answered. Not every admiral hugs a desk, captain. I was captured by the Undine but I managed to escape from their prison. Thats why I was on one of their ships. As to why they captured me I can only conclude it was to replace me.
...Hmmm, there is no telling what damage an Undine could do impersonating you. Grak to bridge. barked the Captain.
...Johansson here, go ahead sir. The voice carried in the air.
...Locate the USS Relentless.
...Aye sir, replied the voice. There was silence for a few moments before the voice sounded again. She is twelve light-years from our current position.
...Good, set a course, maximum warp.
...Aye sir. The com linked chirped as it closed.
...He turned his attention back to Tanar. We need to warn your crew.
...And tip our hand? No, we should hold off. It pained him to not let his crew know the risk but it was too dangerous. Those people were his family, all he had left. He would not risk their safety.
...Youre worried about them, I understand that but they need to know what they have on their ship. he argued.
...If he has infiltrated them then they are in no immediate danger. As long as he does not know Im free we have the time. A remember of the Undine could kill half the crew. There is no way to get a message to them without running the risk that it will find out first.
...Admiral if you want my advice- began the Tellarite.
...I dont he shouted, causing several nurses to stop what they were doing and stare at him. He could not help himself, when ever he approached Grak he found his anger bubbling over. He was hungry, tired and now had a combination of Undine DNA and borg nanoprobes circling around his system. Stay on course and maintain com silence. Do you have any quarters for me? he asked regaining his composure.
...Grak studied him for a moment before answering. Yes, deck 10, section 3.
...Thank you. He said quietly almost as he was out of the sickbay door.
...Oh Admiral its good to see you again. said the Captain loudly, a sardonic simile crossing his lips. Tanar just shrugged and strolled out. Was it a game to him?Was it his Tellarites upbringing? Tanar could not work out what it was exactly that grated at his nerves so much?
...As his number one, onboard the London, he had challenged every decision he ever made, sometimes even in front of the crew. Tanar had tolerated it because of the social differences at first, but even so social upbringing plays second to the chain of command. When Tanar had told him not to question his orders in front of the crew, Grak launched into a tirade of how he was putting his feelings in the way of the crews safety. On Tellarite ships, opinions are expressed openly, bluntly and at length. This openness had made him a fine captain, if a little quick to anger. Somewhere deep inside, in a place of his soul that he pretended did not exist, Tanar respected his passion but he was a creature of habit and discipline. Grak borderline insubordination at times was almost maddening for his ordered and structured Cardassian mind to bear.
...Not one to back down to any confrontation Tanar had made clear that he was not to question his orders again or find his backside floating home to Tellar Prime. Grak appeared to enjoy the argument, but eventually backed down. Only know he would continue to argue with him at every opportunity behind closed doors, often more passionately than before now he had lost his say on the bridge. Tanar tried to let it go. He did not have the energy to worry about Grak any longer.
...The Admiral made his way to his quarters and immediately requested a glass of water from the replicator; the first drink in days. He lay down on the unbelievable soft bed and fell asleep. He would need it.
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Sovereign Trust, how may I direct your call?
U.S.S. Serapis: Admiral Varzec, please.
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: And who may I say is calling?
U.S.S. Serapis: This is O'Ryon of the Serapis.
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: I'm sorry, the Admiral is indisposed, can I take a message for him?
U.S.S. Serapis: Wait, why didn't you say so when I asked for him? Why did you want my name first?
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: It's our policy, Mr. O'Ryon. Would you like to leave a message?
U.S.S. Serapis: That's *Captain,* no -- *Admiral,* no -- *Federation Envoy* O'Ryon. Look, this is an urgent matter concerning a Trust Fleet officer. It may be a life-or-death situation!
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Captain...Admiral...Envoy...Urgent...Officer...Death...
U.S.S. Serapis: Aren't you going to get Admiral Varzec for me?
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: I'm sorry, Captain Admiral Envoy, he's indisposed.
U.S.S. Serapis: Aren't you listening? This is a potentially deadly situation!
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Oh my yes, it sounds terribly important, so I am writing the message in big letters with a fat pen.
U.S.S. Serapis: A fat pen? Are you kidding me? I want to speak to your superior officer!
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Of course, Captain Admiral Envoy, I'll patch you through to my Commanding Officer, Fleet Admiral Varzec.
U.S.S. Serapis: Finally! Thank you!
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Ooooh, I'm sorry Captain Admiral Envoy, Fleet Admiral Varzec is indisposed. Would you like to leave a message?
U.S.S. Serapis: Just... just... tell Admiral Varzec to contact Lieutenant Sepeni on Earth Space Dock, Medlab, OK? Urgent. Possible life-or-death issue.
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Call...Captain...Admiral...Envoy...Lieutenant...Sabrini...DeadLab...OK...life... issue...anything else?
U.S.S. Serapis: No, no that's it.
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Thank you for calling the Sovereign Trust, goodbye!
"Captain...I have bad news." Commander Cherly said as she entered my quarters.
"What? What is it?" I asked, annoyed as I looked up from my PADD as I attempted to write a mission report about our recent shenanig-mission with Q rescuing the USS Copernicus.
"Ah...it's the Old Spice Guy, sir. He's been replaced."
"With who?" I asked, slightly annoyed.
"This guy, sir. His name's Fabio." She said, holding out a PADD. I watched it for three seconds and nearly hurled it at my nice display cases, despite the fact it was empty.
"And exactly what does Mr. Fabio have to do with our ship!?" I asked through gritted teeth.
"He's being assigned here...sir." She said hesitantly. My head immediately hit my desk.
"You have got to be kidding me." I muttered into my desk. "This is a joke, right?"
"No, sir. We decoded the message twice, sir." She said to me.
Taking a deep breath as I sat back up again, I turned to the simulated window in my room and rubbed my temples as I stared out into space. "Commander?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"Does the rest of the ship know about this yet?" I ask.
"Yes, Captain. Security has managed to keep things under control so far, but I fear that this might cause a split amongst the crew."
"A split, Commander?"
"Yes, sir. We ah...apparently have a few fans of the new Old Spice guy onboard."
"And the other side?"
"Most of the crew prefer the Old Old Spice Guy, sir."
I rubbed my temples. "Alright. From now on, no alcohol on board until I can sort this mess out with Starfleet. I swear, this must be revenge from that Admiral whose office I screwed with." I muttered.
"You screwed with an Admiral's office, sir?" The commander asked, tilting her head. "Why?"
"I was a captain before I was a captain. My idiot helmsman was the son of an Admiral, and after he crashed the ship into ESD despite orders to stop the ship at a safe distance, he ran to his father who blamed me and had me demoted. Thankfully, nobody was hurt."
"That sucks."
"Yes, yes it did - so I got even. Since he shot down my formal protests before they even left my desk, I uh...tweaked his computers a bit. The long and the short of it was that I changed the sensors in his office so it didn't recognize him as the Admiral, and then had the holo emitters make him think there were shape-shifters in his office." I said, smiling evilly.
"And then what happened?"
"He got locked in his office overnight and the next morning he thought anyone and everyone was a shapeshifter. Even had him thinking HE was a shapeshifter. Serves him right." I said defiantly.
"Captain! That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" She chastised.
I shook my head. "Hell no. I found a mound full of other dirt on him doing other things. As far as I'm concerned, Starfleet doesn't need Admirals like him with all of the hostilities going on, nor do we need an officer who relies solely on somebody else's power to achieve their means. It might've been a bit mean, but at least we don't have a moron in charge of a starship."
"Captain, the USS Thunderhead just arrived in system. Captain Sutherland's hailing us."
My head hit the desk a second time.
"Problems?"
I nodded in annoyance. "Yeah - that's the ******* that crashed my ship the first time." I tapped my combadge. "This is Captain Rohman to bridge - what does Captain Sutherland want?"
"He's here to deliver the new Old Spice Guy, sir."
I took a deep breath as I tried to contain the irritation within me. "Excuse me." I said politely to my second in command. "You're dismissed."
"Yes, sir." She said, snapping to attention and saluting me before she left.
"Computer - seal door." I said out loud. I heard a beep, signalling that my door was now in fact, locked.
I took two more deep breaths before I picked up my latinum floor trophy and hurled it hard against the door.
On the other side of the door.....
Commander Cheryl had just left the Captain's room when she heard a very loud slamming noise against the door she had just exited.
"Jesus, what the heck did you say to him, Commander?"
She shook her head. "Nothing really important." She dismissed, sighing. It was going to be one of those annoying missions...
"You will also be pleased to know, Captain, that Admiral T'Nae will be coming aboard for a surprise inspection."
Captain Vaihuu e'Hvalli paused, and looked over at her first officer, Commander Adeb. The older Andorian man's antenna curled in slight amusement at his commanding officer's reaction.
"Not much of a surprise if we know she's coming." The dark haired woman said, her voice laden with sarcasm.
"You know how she is."
Captain e'Hvalli let out a sigh, and rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking briefly at the painting of her ship, the USS Starfinder, on the wall behind Adeb.
"That, I do. You know, that woman has made a point to make my life a living hell, and you think she could at least do it right. Any particular reason she's coming?"
Adeb shook his head, and smoothed a blue hand over the white hairs of his goatee to cover up a smile that was playing at his lips.
"Not that I know of. I will caution, you, however, Captain, to keep civil this time when she visits."
"I was civil the last time." Vaihuu said defensively. "I wasn't the one underhandedly accusing someone of being a Tal'Shiar infiltrator. I'm not some little wet-behind-the-ears officer anymore. If she's going to take jabs at me, she better get used to me swinging back."
"Well, I'd prefer it if you kept your commission. Not that I wouldn't mind commanding this beacon of our science fleet, but I would miss your company."
Vaihuu took a deep breath, and smiled ruefully at her friend. "Fair enough. I will do my best.
"She's probably coming to just lecture me again about the Prime Directive, and question my loyalty as always. As if she can't accomplish these things over subspace, she has to go out of her way to do it face-to-face. I mean, what does she do, just roll out of bed and think, 'I need some time in the field. I know, I'll annoy Captain e'Hvalli for a few days. That sounds like fun.' I have a feeling, she is going to want Plomeek soup for dinner, too. You know how well Plomeek soup and dress whites go together. Just something else for her to criticize.
"That woman was the only one that opposed my entry into Starfleet, and since my commission she has nosed into every aspect of my life. Thanks to her, I can't eat dinner with a friend without a Section 31 operative snooping in a corner, or trying to look inconspicuous at a nearby table. Just because I am half Romulan doesn't automatically make me some spy. I've also gone to great lengths to be an upstanding Starfleet officer, she can at least give me that respect.
"And that whole nonsense over Alhahir...." Her voice trailed off, and she looked over at the window and the stars as they whizzed by.
"I know. You've said this before. In her defense, you were a Romulan naval officer before this, you did bypass Starfleet Academy, and you did try to kill Empress Sela. Being wanted by the Romulan government might make me a little suspicious, too. Especially with all the trouble lately."
Vaihuu's neck muscles tensed. "Don't take her side," she said with irritation. "I may have been an Imperial Naval officer, but my loyalties were pretty clear, and they have been ever since. And who hasn't tried to kill Empress Sela?"
The young woman turned away from the window, her thin lips pursed together.
Adeb stood for a moment, another sarcastic comment at the tip of his tongue, but looking over at Captain e'Hvalli's demeanor, he decided not to take any more jabs at her.
"I'm sure it will be nothing. Just take a deep breath and get through it."
"You're a fool." Captain Jane Nori said in a calm, melodious voice, through the forcefield at Lieutenant General Hara Tal.
The Orion rose to her feet, towering over the small, redhaired Ocampan woman and moved from the bench where she sat previously, and leaned against the doorway of the holding cell aboard the IKS chonnaQ. The emitters hummed in her ears, and the electromagnetic field tickled her face.
"Your heart has been filled with J'mpok's cowardice, and the lies of those Dishonored Warriors that stand with him in that decaying Empire that you so covet.
"Look around. This system has enough dilithium in it to last us nearly sixty years, even with the war on. It's within a feasible shipping distance to the Empire, and the planet is occupied by a species whose technology four hundred years inferior to ours. It's time to think of ourselves.
"We can manipulate them. Convince them to work, and even fight for us. They are hearty, motivated souls as you can tell--"
Hara held up her gloved hand, shooting Jane an icy glare.
"This planet is within Federation territory, and even though they are not a member world, Federation ships do still patrol in this sector. You fired on two of their vessels to get your prize; one of them a flagship! You can bet Starfleet will be sending more ships, and what then? You and I both know the Empire can't afford another long, bloody battle." Hara growled.
"For the adopted daughter of one of the most highly regarded Nausicaan generals in the KDF's history, you sure are a disappointment. I guess that's why Efrain preferred me over you...sister."
A sneer stretched across Jane's lips.
"You and I both know he would not have his legacy, nor you your precious commission without me. How are you liking those new cannons, anyway...General? Did you bother to take the Cardassian naval emblems off yet? Or those pretty new Federation consoles that adorn your bridge? Or how about those cases of Kali-fal in your cargo bay?"
A low growl escaped Hara's lips, and she hit the keypad next to the holding cell, dropping the forcefield. In the blink of an eye, Hara advanced on the demure Orion and landed a hard blow across her face, sending her to a knee. Hara grabbed Jane's neck in her hand and squeezed hard, watching the Orion's face turn dark green.
"You are a snake, just like your former Romulan benefactors." Hara hissed harshly. She released her grip slightly to allow Jane some air, before tightening her fingers again.
Captain Nori coughed and then smiled, and Hara felt a rush of anger as she searched Jane's mind and only came away with a smug arrogance.
"Don't think for a second that the sham of an 'empire' that you claim to have protects you from anything. You and I both know that your army of crooks wouldn't hesitate to put a blade through that pretty chest of yours if they had enough reason. The fact that you are an adopted daughter of Efrain Tal, is the only thing keeping you alive. Never forget that. Perhaps that is a failing of mine, but you and I both know how important it is that the House remain together.
"You will return to your ship, and depart this system immediately, or I will risk everything and throw you out an airlock. Or worse...hand you over to the Feds and let them deal with you."
Hara released her grasp and backed away slowly, not taking her eyes off of Captain Nori.
Jane slowly rose to her feet, gasping. She brought a hand to her neck and rubbed where Hara had squeezed her, and coughed. Turning her dark eyes to the younger woman, she smiled in defiance.
"Kill me, or turn me over to them." Jane said darkly, stepping toward Hara. "I dare you. If you had done your homework like a good ship commander, you would know that the flagship I successfully disabled before you arrived is the USS Stellar Drift. I'm sure my...former Romulan benefactor--" Jane laughed "--will be happy to see me."
The ship's intercom blared off the duranium walls of the brig, startling Hara for a split second.
"General, sensors are picking up additional Federation starships entering the system."
Captain's log: it's dark in my ready room, just the way I like it.
Soon he is disturbed by the rudest of interruptions. He hears a sharp energetic whoosh & a flash of light sparks inside the aquarium.
Supplemental: a small man wearing the robes of a 22nd century arbiter is... *sigh* ...boxing with my rigellian eel.
nIb'poH.
Droid: Q jr.? Not again! Q jr. retorts in a mock Irish accent. Q jr: Dearest Aindreas, me old chum; I t'o't I've told ya's never to call me that. I t'ink jus' plain ol' Q will quite suffice.
Oh cork it, I've told you the same just right; "Aindreas" died when he gave himself willingly to the borg. Q interjects, back to his dynamically pronounced yet indifferent voice. Oh that spittle again for such a stand out mortal, you really can be drearily repetitive.
*Did Q just compliment me?* Droid thinks to himself & shudders, reactively attempting to shake off the layer of Q mush. I heard that all knowing, remember? AnyQ, its all fine & dandy. Arent you the least bit curious about the pertinence of my visit?
No not really, business as usual I would surmise; & Ive never been one of your satisfied customers. You wound me, good doctor.
Your record is resoundingly clear, as was your fathers; up until the end, that is. Oh yes of course, how could anyone forget? The ol' man went soft! He knew what was coming his way & simply resigned to his... Q lays a left hook on the eels mid-mandibles.
...FATE! Soon it realizes snapping at the interloper wont cut the yamok, so it begins whipping at him with its tails.
Blasted brute; let the poor creature alone & pick on something your own size! Size, mon amiral? You know nothing of the natural size of my being. If you did then it might put a little perspective on things, & you would cower in paralyzing fear as you well should.
If youre mass is anywhere near as big as your ego then But! Q interrupts.
I dont want your people to worship me, that would be too easy no my true divine wrath is reserved for lower life forms; or those that trifle with the Q. No, I dont want your blind servitude; au contraire what I crave is your respect for my talents!
Talents? Droid scoffs. Yes, of course; & why not? I can really raise a few eyebrows around the federation. Why, I can play a better human than the best of them! Yet still your curiosity is most curious. We that is to say, I do love watching you get yourselves into trouble. We really dont need to interfere much.
I dont have time to listen to someone ramble on about something everyone knows! Now why dont you get out of the tank & pick on something sentient! You sound like someone I've dealt with before oh fine then. You humanoids really know how to make a big deal out of the tiniest trivial things. If only a klingon could even survive a battle of wits with the likes of me, I'd derive much more entertainment dwelling around in their faction. I tell you If some of our ranks had anything to say about the matter, so-called sentient bipeds wouldnt even exist! The eel zaps Q, who was caught off guard. Why you desperate little meal! Bubbles fly from his mouth as Q raises a clawed hand at it; just as his fingers begin to flicker, Droid shouts at him.
Just dont! Like everything else you do, theres no damned point! Alright alright you've made your case, Ive got bigger eels to fry. As for you! You can bet Ill be back for a rematch, you nasty little critter. Q flashes himself out of the tank, but he is still soaked & dripping all over the floor. Whoopsie daisy! He throws his upturned palms to his sides, & with yet another flash all the water flies off of him in an outward flurry; splattering Droid. He wipes his good eye
Yes, very amusing... I know you can't actually get wet. How & dries the implanted one more carefully with a rag.
would you like it if I were an omnipotent entity & you were just a mere mortal trying to go about your business amidst my constant distractions? Oh sure you would only be slightly unnerved at first, & try to shoo me away & pretend not to be adhered hoping Ill lose interest but eventually you might teeter on the brink of insanity like Im about to be! Of all the irrefutable annoyances in the galaxy you have got to be the most.. Q raises a finger. Im going to have to stop you right there
Which he does, freezing Droid in place. You pose a very interesting question Droid; do I detect, a hint of dare in your voice? What say we put your little scenario to a test! Droid? Droid? Yoohoo? Q snaps his fingers at Droid, interminably stiff, his jaw dangling open. Even still, he remains ostensibly enraged, melting the ice with his rising body temperature & screaming from out his eyes. Oh *chuckles* this just wont do will it? A change of scenery should do the trick, somewhere a bit more Q glares menacingly, the spitting image of his paternal creator.
stimulating. He cracks the trademark sinister smirk, & snaps his copyrighted fingers. *
Q ports them into the counselors office. Dedade turns around, startled. Just as shes about to let out a quip, Q, abusing his power as usual, freezes her in place. Q transforms himself into her image.
How dare you you omnipotent prepubescent miscreant! I demand that you cut out this nonsense! Or what? Youll call my daddy? I'll have you know that according to your precious "linear" calendar, I'm 36 earth years old. 36,000 if you count the years I spent in limbo while the other Q deliberated on whether or not to destroy me, my parents & erase their entire histories.
I should have tried to already, but I don't exactly have a Q-signal mounted on the hull. Besides, youd probably just take my mouth or block my thoughts or even rewind time to stop me, so True Q wasn't even an option I was considering. Very true... wait a millennia; "True Q?" Is that what your meek little mind has conjured up? I'm sure even in his current state he'd be mortified with your pet name; might as well be a dolphin under the leash of a targ. I suppose I can change back to my normal self but I have an appreciation for... Once again he cranes his head at her, cocking it to the side as if he were an art museum curator inspecting a new arrival. Droid places himself between them.
...authenticity. I could just wake her up, but wheres the fun in that? Droid replicates a blanket & walks over to her & tosses it over the ice cube that is now his ships counselor. Q then promptly makes it vanish.
Why the games? Make it right or we have nothing further to discuss! Oh so you are willing to have a little chat? What's it worth to you? Droid glares.
Oh don't be like that, it's just some same ol' same ol' primitive physical form, nothing I haven't been before. I have been them all, you know. Dont worry, the blanket is still there, it's just hidden; go on, feel for yourself Droid then made a severe mistake: he trusted Q, quite on accident, as he reached for the supposed "invisible cloth." Indeed the trickster had lied, the blanket was no longer there, & he unfroze her at an inopportune moment where Droids hand was outstretched at level with Dedades midriff. Dedade: Cap... Adm... Doc... Sir! How did I Ooh! She lays a rather steamy slap upon his cheek.
I never imagined
Counselor, if youll please have a look over there! What? I dont see anything She cant see me... He scoffs, covering his mouth with a stiff palm.
...how embarrassing for you!
Please I meant no disrespect, Ill explain later. Right now I suggest you just replicate a dry uniform & head to the bridge. Still shivering, she wastes no time bolting to the replicator.
Hey, can't you just rattle around inside my melon to see that I'm telling the truth? No, in fact I can't... I'm too furious!
Well, on to real universe events: Im expecting a hail from Lt. Karbo, & I dont trust those jittery ears I want you to make sure he gives us all the details. To think you call yourself a doctor
Dismissed, counselor. Yes sir As she walks out the door Q remarks about how uncomfortable that situation must have been.
Droid replies I dont know why shes so suspicious of me... Im a professional. Why I even make it a point to perform the physicals on each of my senior officers, even the unusual suspects like the Breen, the Reman & the Gorn; oh that wasnt my strongest moment let me tell you, there is a distinct, pungent odor when it comes to Q snaps his repro fingers. Attencion! You are boring me once again; there are more important matters at hand! Now that were alone, lets talk about your challenge. He blinks into the chair, places a pair of spectacles on his brim & brings up a clipboard.
Well dont just stand around; weve a lot of ground to cover in this session. Have a seat!
Not now Q, Im on an important mission in the BTran cluster Blast it all Q, lives are at stake! Oh youll be back in time, I promise. Q flashes him into the sofa.
Promises from you? Bah, no good, not in my book. Well well just have to add a few chapters, or hire a new editor. I volunteer!
Enough, already get on with it. Now thats more like it! Youre gonna love this were going to play a little role reversal.
Why dont you just zap yourself into an alternate reality where Im interested in wasting time with your shenanigans! Oh trust me Ive peeked. There arent any You mortals are very brash when it comes to judging other species, especially we Q.
I would prefer to continue this in my own office.
Q, you ought to know by now that no self respecting officer will ever take your bait. Even if we did, you might just put us all on trial again. Point & case: Riker VS Q continuum, circa 2364. Oh dont be so pretentious, its all in the name of good fun! What no one knows is that dear dad was instructed to give those powers to Jean-Luc. But as usual, he had his own agenda.
...& youre calling me pretentious? Youre calling yourself a self respecting officer? I know what you think when you look in the mirror every morning & see those implants. I know that you think you should be dead, thats why you wont acknowledge your past. And most of all I know that after all youve been through, you are the perfect subject to be put through this test. Ill watch your precious little ship while youre gone, no one will ever know the difference! Im not going anywhere, my personal desires are light years away, duty comes first.
Well see the trial continues.
Q nonchalantly raises his hands & claps them twice by his head, & for once, without so much as even a flash, the deed is done. Q What have you Call me Droid, or better yet call me vice admiral; youre the Q now.
A sensation of dread fills in the void of Droids depression, & his bowels seemed twist in agony. He bends over as if about to hurl. The feeling will pass, its purely psychosomatic, you see: you dont even have a stomach to feel sick anymore. Your appearance is now merely the residual image you are so hopelessly clinging to. You could be anything, do anything; you could go & meddle with time as you please, save your sister, wipe the borg from existence
Droid flattens Q on his back with a savage elbow. Ah, a physical blow
Q wipes the blood from his lip. you have a flair for nostalgia, dear Q, though now you are capable of so much more, you still like to get your hands dirty like some impulsive primate. Why didnt you stop me? You just stood there & took it like a
Like a man? Well I thought you would have grasped that by now; thats exactly what I am: powerless. All of my being is now yours, & I can't say I miss it. Change me back!
He wraps his hands around Qs collar & forces him against the wall. Easy on the goods, supreme being you are, remember? I said make it right!
Oh that is no longer within my range of abilities, its now up to you what will be done with this burden. The universe is your playground, I am completely at your mercy. If you truly dont want it then give it back, or bestow it on someone you deem more worthy.
Droid slowly releases him, suddenly acting cautiously as though everything surrounding him were only a fragile little toy. The frightening aspect of the matter was that this was true. Unsure of what consequences might arise based on his new inclinations, he hesitated to attempt to expunge the power of the Q. The continuum wont let you get away with this. How can they let you just change someones life like this? Its irresponsible on all fronts, how do you know I wont Abuse your power? Like that's never happened before...
Stop doing that! What? Speaking your mind? It doesnt matter to the continuum, a Q here, a Q there, its all a matter of balance. We dont just influence reality, were a force of nature, no more so than the borg. Youre nothing natural, youre nothing more heathen gods
You flatter me but Im no longer superior to you; I thought you of all people would appreciate that. Im simply trying to show you that we have more in common than you think. Even if that were true, I would go out of my way to correct that little fact; you are despicable beyond all absurdities! You are wicked, youve brought back the borg, & youve ruined everyones lives as you disturb the peace!
He slams his fist on the desk, & with a spark it disintegrates into its base molecular components & flitters away as it floats detractively into the air vents. Temper, temper little star so like a child you are, up above the world so high, how I wonder when youll touch the sky, & realize the gift Ive given you Gift? This is little more than a manifestation of the very thing that blackens the hearts of sentient beings. It would instil envy beyond reason, no one life-form should possess power to this extreme. The fact that it even exists is a bane to all realities!
You think youve got it all figured out; always trying to blame the parents. Will the naiveties never cease? I dont know, will this madness never end? Madness? You underestimate my goals! This is absolute, undeterrable, & oh-so-glorious chaos!
Youre telling me, I just obliterated my desk!
Droid takes a deep breath, as if it were necessary, & yet still manages to calm himself as he sulks over the dusty pile of shattered memories. It was a gift, handcrafted by a good friend of Boothbys. When he passed, he left it to me in his will. He didn't have much in the world, but he loved all the students, especially those that took the time to socialize with him. If you still love your precious material possession, than simply restore it to it's former solidity.
Droid stares precariously at his hands, eying them both scrupulously. You can do it, you can probably control these powers better than I can. It doesnt take experience, only instinct. You corporeal beings understand want better than any other creatures in the galaxy; if you want something, then simply "make it so "
Droid is too seriously obscured by his woe to laugh at Qs remark, though he finally remembers why it was funny. Heh. You presume much to assume you are worthy to quote a man who despised your kind more than words could express. Quit dawdling & just give it a try!
Droid looks at his hand one more time, & outstretches it toward the space where his desk was. After a flicker of tiny lights, a dazzling rainbow of matter begins to stream from the ducts, joining with the pile & slowly but surely, the desk begins to reconstruct itself. Oh don't be such a baby, pick up the pace already!
Q forcibly clasps Droids palm closed, & the desk becomes fully restored in an instant, but as Droid was distracted he inadvertently sears Qs hand. Q flinches & scuttles off into the corner. Ah pain I remember you fondly. You really are insane, Q! What if Id destroyed you? I don't know what I'm capable of! Youre not "capable" of that level of iniquity, not yet thats why I chose you. Now: a little help here, o mighty healer?
I should enjoy watching you wince however, I took an oath to do no harm; yes of course you did. That in & of itself may make you a better Q than I could ever be.
Droid, forgoing his continuing impatience with Qs interruptions, holds his truths self evidently & extends his hand over Qs, healing it instantaneously. Ohh... its a miracle! You truly are blessed & merciful! Dont push it, Q. I dont know what I might accidentally do to you next time.
Its so soothing; is that eucalyptus? Its just what I was thinking about; my mom used to want to heal me the old fashioned way, with ointments, so that I would gain a better sense of self preservation through a natural healing process. How touchingly barbaric
No I loved her for it. Now my scars are all I have left of my family.
A chime comes at the door. Oh, we have company; I almost forgot that I wasn't holding us outside of space-time anymore. Quickly now, better hide!
Droid stiffens up & attempts, but is unable to vanish. The theatrics really dont matter, but I find it tasteful to make a little gesture: snap your fingers, click your heels, that sort of thing. It impresses the deity-fearing masses; having been one yourself Id say it will give you the boost of pride you need.
Another chime comes at the door. & if that doesnt, this will:
COME!
The doors streak open just as Droid snaps his fingers; & the first officer & the ships counselor walk in. Dedade: Sir, who were you talking to? No one, I was simply dictating my log.
Apparently it worked; Droid was still in the room & aware of his surroundings, but no one else could see nor hear him as he sat on the corner of his reintegrated desk & let out a huff of relief, & began to chuckle. Catching himself in a moment of glee, he took pause, & now wasnt sure what to think. Q, now impersonating Droid, let out a little smirk as he looked around. You have something for me, number one?
Droid folded his arms, squinting in disbelief at how quickly Q had assimilated his inflections, & his persona. V'Buni: Yes sir, weve arrived in Gamma Orionis & the diplomatic envoy is en-route to escort us to the BTran cluster undetected. Thank you commanders; any particular reason it took two of you to deliver this message?
V'Buni began a statement, but Dedade cut her off, deciding to front this question. Yes sir, the first officer flagged me over when you didnt answer the door the first time. I was probing for intruders. Im sorry if Ive overstepped my bounds.
Droid, anticipating her next move, somehow figured out how to mask the now mortal & vulnerable Qs thoughts with ease. He covered with enough of his own to be convincing. After she had been fooled, he knew it wasnt her job to read the admiral at all times, & he trusted her not to again for the remainder of the day, that is... as long as Q continued to play a convincing Doctor. No, not at all, you ought to know me better than that now. I know you only have the best interests of the crew & I in mind, so on behalf of myself & said crew: I thank you for your concern counselor. I was just meticulously wrapped up in this glaring account, but Im finished now; lets return to the bridge, its time we notified the rest of the crew of our mission.
Queued - Computer Science: A sequence of stored data or programs awaiting processing.
They proceeded to the bridge. Droid began to follow but the doors closed on him; so he concentrated & managed to easily port himself onto the bridge, where the admiral had already taken his seat & activated the intercom.
Listen up I know wed all rather be somewhere else than in the trenches, theres a grand universe out there to explore, & Im sure if you could you would go anywhere but here in an instant.
At that remark, a glimmer seemed to flash in Qs eye.
Ive just received word from Lt. Karbo: our mission is one of great peril. Regardless, I want you to remember that were not just front line fodder, Starfleet doesn't work that way. We will meet this challenge head on as we face insurmountable odds, & I have faith in each & every one of you to perform your duty to the very last breath. As weve grown closer over the past year, I look back & remember several now unrecognizable enemies that plagued our everyday function: mistrust, betrayal, xenophobia; these attributes are now all but diminished
He went on, almost over the top, but soon Droid began to tune things out, & the voices grew distant His speech was indeed moving; in fact Droid had almost considered that he may not have been able to deliver it better himself! But now something was drawing him in, as if a warm breeze were scooting him out the proverbial doggie-door, to hunt down the scent of some unknown yet appetizing flavor. Oh yes, the chase was on.
Droid took one last look around, the bridge: so familiar, his shipmates: he'd known so well, they seemed steadfast & on the brink of tears. He turned to face the viewscreen, & all at once he felt relief, sure of his abilities as if the knowledge had always been there, merely awaiting discovery. He closed his eyes, & walked through the viewscreen into open space; something most captains have only dreamed of doing.
& to think... for the first time, a daring human now willingly stood on the brink of the greatest adventure life had to offer, & he could chalk it all up to Q.
Comments
So this is the way you want it, eh Jimmy boy?
Richard Allen Cleary said nothing. He wanted to reach up and scratch his newly-grown goateeit was the latest fashion and Cleary always kept up with the latest fashionsbut instead he stood rock still and glared over Finnegans shoulder at the first-year cadet who faced them both.
You dont want to be my friend? Fine Jimmy. But you dont want to be my enemy. You wont live long that way. Finnegan crossed his arms and settled back on his heels. He didnt even reach for his dagger, but then he didnt need to. Thats why Cleary was here.
Instead of shrinking away like most did, the younger cadetJim Kirk was his namestepped closer to Finnegan, reflecting the upperclassmans broad smile back at him. The question isnt whether I want to be your friend, but do you want to be mine?
Kirk had been the focus of Finnegans attention for weeks now. The two had circled each other like wolves, waiting for an opening. Cleary had been mostly busy, taking care of a group of upstarts that thought they could challenge Finnegan and get away with it. They didnt.
Now that things had started to heat up with Kirk, hed been called in to do what Finnegan always called enforce the law, that is Finnegans law.
Finnegan scoffed at Kirk, almost casually, though Cleary could see him tense up from behind. Friends with you, Jimmy? Why would I care about that? Youre nothing. Youve got no patron, no crew. Youre family is dirt. Theyve got no influence, and neither do you and you never will.
Cleary felt a rush of anger, but quickly quashed it. Finnegan had said similar things to him. They were all trueClearys family had no standing or powerbut it still burned to hear those words, even if they were meant for someone else. The only reason Cleary was in the Academy at all was because hed survived long enough to catch the attention of Admiral Pike. And Pike, like Finnegan, appreciated Clearys skills. He was good at two, and only two thingskilling people and following orders. But that was enough to survive, at least for now.
Cleary thought he saw Kirks face contorted by anger for a moment, similar to his own. But then it passed, and the young mans face was smiling again. Oh, Ive got more influence than you know. Ive been watching you, Finnegan, and Ive learned my lessons well.
Finnegan laughed out loud and shook his head. Delusions of grandeur! You should really learn your place, Jimmy boy. Youre entertaining at least, but Ive got better things to do than waste my time with a worthless piece of trash. He glanced back and nodded to Cleary. It was nice knowin you.
Cleary unsheathed his dagger and took a deep breath.
Finnegan looked back, his eyes wide with surprise, a silent what half formed on his lips. Then he fell forward heavily, the hilt of Clearys dagger protruding from his back.
Kirk looked down at Finnegans sprawling form and then up at Cleary. Good job, he said. Stick with me, TRIBBLE, and youll go far.
Cleary felt the warm rush he always did after being told hed done well. He didnt even notice Kirks balled fist until it hit him in the stomach. He doubled over, falling to one knee and struggling to breath.
He felt Kirks face near his own and the younger cadets breath on his ear. Just remember. If you ever think about sticking a knife in my backand Ill know the moment you doyoure going to join your former friend here face first on the deck. Is that clear?
Cleary coughed and sputtered. All he could do was nod feebly.
Kirk stood back up. Good. Now get up and stop pretending youre hurt. We have some work to do. If you try to play on my sympathies, youll discover I dont have any. He turned and began to walk down the corridor. Oh, and pick up my books while youre down there, he called back.
Cleary, finally able to take a breath, reached down and gathered up the few books that Kirk had been carrying, probably for show. He knew if he stuck with the younger man, he might amount to something someday. But he also knew enough not to fully trust him. Kirk might be an excellent patron, but there was something about him that made Cleary nervous.
Hed follow orders, of course. But hed also keep an eye on Kirk, just in case.
The Bridge was dimly lit, some areas pitch black, the dim turquoise light was mainly focused on the consoles around the Bridge, so that their users could see where to put their furiously typing fingers, however no light appeared on the user's themselves.
Had the Bridge been lit to it's full potential, it ould be instantly known that it was not a Terran Bridge, the walls were black metal and the consoles comprised of prismatic shapes of differeing hues of green and turquoise, but what would have struck a stranger to this Bridge more than anything was it's sheer size, it was far larger than anything the Alpha Quadrant had made.
On a Terran or Klingon ship, this would seem an impracticality, but this was not an Alha Quadrant vessel, and a Bridge this size was appropriate.
In the middle of the darkness, the Commanding Oficer sat in his chair, he was illuinated up to the lower half of his face, his position radiated confidence and a relaxed attitude, one leg over the other, leaning back in his chair, and his hands clasped together, resting over his midsection, suspended by his elbows propped up against the arms of the chair, the ship's Bridge was almost perfectly silent, save for the occasional electronic sound from one of the consoles, but otherwise, there was not even the sound of breathing as the stars streaked across the enormous viewscreen, eventually, this silence was broken by a voice from one of the crewmen.
"Commander, we are almost at our target area."
"Bring us out of warp right next to them."
"Aye sir, shall I raise the shields?"
The Commander of the ship let out a soft chuckle, a wry smirk wrought itself across his illuminated face.
"Don't bother, there isn't a thing these toy ships can do to even scratch the hull."
"Understood sir, dropping out of warp...now"
_________________________________________________________
The space above the planet was ablaze with the grueling fight above it's atmosphere, the planet was lifeless and not in a strategic area, however, the planet was loaded with enough resources to build an entire fleet of Terran ships and power and maintain them for 60 Earth years if necessary, so now the Terrans and the Klingon/Cardassian Alliance were locked in combat for this goldmine of resources.
The two sides had lost their formation two hours ago, and now were scattered over the battlefield, as time wore on the fight got more and more intense, both sides were taking heavy casualties, but the ones remaining consisted of the strongest vessels and the most brilliant tacticians for Captains on both sides, the first shot had been fired three hours ago and it seemed unlikely the last ine would be fired off anytime soon.
The fighting continued, until the bridges of almost every ship on both sides were filled with panic riddled voices.
"Gul Dumek, I'm reading an enormous energy signature building up next to us!"
"Captain Jameson, it seems to be an enormous warp signature!"
"We're right in the path of it!"
"Evasive maneuvers, NOW!"
One ship tried to run away from the confusion, but it's crew soon saw the empty space in their viewscreen be swallowed by a wall of silver metal, before the captain could evfen issue orders to stop, the ship rammed into the obstruction, exploding almost immediately. when the explosions died, the ship was little more than wreckage, but what it hit was unscathed.
"See? Not even a scratch."
The Commander grinned in his darkened Bridge, the fighting had ceased as the Terrans and the Klingon/Cardassian ships were awestruck at what they saw, a monstrosity of a vessel.
The body was a very shallow V shape, but the front and sides were perfectly vertical, the length of the sides was many times that of even the largest vessel there, and the ship's height dwarfed even that, but what was the most impressive part, wa the ship's armament, on the V shaped front, four black rectangles spanning roughly two thirds of it's total height housed a row of enormous cannons each, and on the edges of the body, a large triangular weapons pod on each side slung underneath.
It is not everyday a crewman encounters a ship that can dwarf the V'ger, so it took a while before scans of the vessel were initiated, the previous conflict seemingly forgotten, behind the body sprouted equally enormous engines, still emanating a green/turquoise glow, at the middle top front of this behemoth, a small white slit served as the viewscreen of the Bridge, inside it, the Commander grinned at the enemy's confusion.
"Open a channel to all of those vessels, we'll give them a fair chance."
One console emanated a few sounds before the Commander spoke.
"This is Krovennan Darksabre, Commanding Officer of the Vilscaran Battle Fortress, I.V.S Drekkar Os'kanneth, this planet and all of it's resources are now under the jurisdiction of the Vilscaran Empire, all ships currently in orbit of this planet will surrender unconditionally and prepare to be boarded.
When we have removed all we need from your vessels, we will send you on your way, failure to comply is not advisable, you have one minute to respond."
Krovennan had not moved from his position, the minute passed beriefly until an officer spoke up to break the silence.
"Sir, the Lead Klingon and Terran ships are hailing us."
"Put them both onscreen"
The view of the lifeless planet was replaced by a scarred Klingon male and a blonde Human Female, the Klingon was the first to respond.
"We will not become slaves to anyone! It is a good day to die!"
"We were slaves once already, we will not become slaves again, no matter how fancy a ship you fly."
Krovennan paused for a moment, before moving from his chair and walking towards the screen, the only piece of white light was directly in front of the screen, as Krovennan walked into the light, the black and grey of his Vilscaran uniform became much more detailed, but what almost made the Human falter was the left side of Krovennan's face, it was horrifically burned and scarred, the skin almost pure red, one eye was white and pieces of flesh were missing, the eye seemed to almost dart between the two, as if it had its own malicious intelligence and was sizing up the two for death.
"You two hve no choice, if you wish to live another day, I will accept no less than unconditional surrender, if not, turn off this transmission now, and we'll see how well you fare."
It did not take long for the two to regain their misguided bravado, both screens switched off almost simultaneously, Krovennan smirked and spoke without turnnging around to the darkness beyond his small spotlight.
"Arm all defences, raise shields and prepare the main weapons, swat these gnats from our face."
Once again the space above the planet was ablaze in weapons fire, however, this time the two sides from before seemingly ignored each other ad focused on the Battle Fortress, which had erupted in an Antiproton shower of beam lances, cannon fire and pulse wave weaponry, the enormous cannons and the two weapon pods had not yet fired, seemingly waiting.
The fight was intense, but when the last shot was fired, only the Battle Fortress remained, Krovennan mused to himself, they had fought hard, but hadn't even halved the shields, now all that was left in their way was the wreckage of the insects that had buzzed around this vessel, and the planet before them.
"Are the main weapons charged?"
"Aye sir, turbolances armed and ready, weapon pods report their own turbolances are at maximum power."
"Excellent, scan the planet's surface, aim your weapons at the weakest points and fire."
Th enormous weapons started to glow with the red of their Antiproton ammunition, before long the energy erupted in a bright red beam, impacting against the planet's surface, the weapons of the Battle Fortress cascaded their hellish red beams down on the planet, striking the key positions with pinpoint accuracy, the planet's high concentration of metal meant it held for a while, but before long the surface broke and the weaker points began to crumble, planetary destailisation occured, until the planet broke itself apart.
The shards of the former planet scattered in all directions, some oblitweated the wreckage around the Battle Fortress. Krovennan finally walked back to his seat and sat down, submerging himself in darkness once more.
"Report."
"Scans show that the intel was correct, the planet is, or was, rich in what we need."
"Good, send a beacon into the wreckage so Vilscar can send a mining party, as for us, we head back to Vilscar, this was a nice little distraction, but I fell that our people will miss their strongest vessel, head for the wormhole, warp 8."
"Aye sir, estimated time to the wormhole, 5 hours."
"Excellent, keep me informed of any developments."
Krovennan lifted himself from his seat and entered the turbolift, soon he was walking through the labyrinthine corridors to his quarters, the design was the same, but the corridors were better lit, so the black metal walls were visible in all their glory, Krovennan felt his burn as he walked through the corridors, he had been given this by his counterpart in the other universe, a Federation lackey.
He would pay him back for what he did, one day he would bring this harbinger of death to his universe, and pay Earth a visit they would never forget.
The vulcan sat at a desk in his quarters, casually glancing out the window. In the distance he could see two other ships following in formation. The four amethyst nacelles of the Phoenix-class escort, I.S.S. Fearless, and in the distance, the massive bulk of the Jupiter-class dreadnaught, the I.S.S. Minerva... this squadron was forged for war, with enough firepower to bring down any threat it encountered. And yet Tarrak knew those were not the only other ships in the vicinity... three months ago he was consulted by Captain Breng to help breach the fabric of reality and create a spatial anomaly that would allow an entire fleet to instantaneously move across dimensions.
Piercing into another dimension was nothing unheard of in the Terran Empire. It had happened a handful of times in the past, but the practice had become more and more common since 2409. To move forty-seven ships within the timeframe of thirty seconds was at first laughed at by the Terran Science Commission. Tarrak offered his proposal to the board, and despite two hours of presentation... he was simply brushed off. If for anything... because of the immense amount of energy needed to create an anomaly of that size, and the amount of repair time needed for the deflector dishes after they were modified to nourish the anomaly until they breached onto the other side. It was tactically unwise to the paranoid members of the commission, and Tarrak left with his data to return to menial service on Station Triumph near Rigel V.
Of course, fate had other plans... and the entire Science Commission was terminated three months later by the enterprising Dr. Bellsworth and his longtime friend, Captain Breng... an ambitious man who sought to abandon his universe and conquer a new one. All thirteen members of the board made the mistake of leaving on the same shuttle after a conference with 52nd Imperial Logistics Division. The sabotaged warp drive blew their atoms across 4 light years, and allowed Dr. Bellsworth and his terran think-tank to assume their place. And they wanted a way out of the universe, out of the threat of capture by the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance.
Tarrak was merely a pawn to them. A vulcan who studied astrophysics extensively, who had no real desire for anything other than a menial life, and kept mostly to himself. His thesis on Extradimensional Theory made him a prime target for Captain Breng's plans to move his fleet into another reality.
The three planned in secret, to leave the Terran Empire as they know it and conquer a new dimension one planet at a time. Breng was a tactical genius, perhaps gifted to the point he saw the folly in trying to fight against the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance. An unsuspecting dimension, he theorized... would be more efficient to claim.
They conspired together, assuming they were all on the same page... but none of them suspected what the quiet, unassuming vulcan thought or cared about. To them, he was merely a tool to use. The means to an end. Not even Breng considered looking into his private life -- the life past his scientific studies.
"We're almost ready, Tarrak. Report to engineering to oversee phase one." Breng's voice boomed over the comm in his quarters.
"Yes, sir. I'll... be on my way." He gathered his diagnostic tool and moved out of his quarters, shutting off the data terminal he was working on.
Once he went to engineering, everything went just as predicted. The fleet was on its way to conquest. It would be the largest successful exodus in the Terran Empire. They would arrive in our reality at once and brutally assault anything and anyone standing in their way. Then establish dominance from there.
"My calculations are correct, Captain. We are approaching the right area to establish the rift." He spoke into his handheld comm, and looked over the readouts of the panel.
"Good... meet me in Shuttlebay 4. The Pathfinder will be waiting. Lieutenant Robertson will pilot you in first." The Captain ordered, and the vulcan only replied with a simple, "Yes, sir." Before departing.
As he made his way to the shuttlebay, Lieutenant Robertson never asked him what he thought of this, or what his plans were once they departed the ship and entered the rift. Tarrak knew what would likely happen... he knew Robertson was not in Captain Breng's favor ever since interrupting his dinner with what would later turn out to be a bogus claim of treason against him by another officer. He was... expendable. And Tarrak knew he was too. He assumed his shuttle would be destroyed once Breng was done using him. After all, he wouldn't want any of the other forty-six captains to find a way back through so easily... he was just another loose end to tie up for the mission, in all likelihood.
Once in the shuttle, they moved ahead of the fleet. Deflector arrays began to channel beams one at a time into a particular area of space from their deflector dishes. Each of them attuned to Tarrak's calculated frequencies. An anomaly appeared, and began to expand... Lt. Roberts went throttle up and the Pathfinder raced toward the strange blue-white cloud.
"It'll be exciting to see what's on the other side, vulcan." The human smirked. He had no respect for the vulcans, obviously... being brought up and raised in the belief that humans were the master race.
"Yes... unfortunately, you will not." Tarrak said as he was getting up.
"Wait, wha--?" The lt. turned around, only to get a particular area of his collar pinched, and he collapsed out of the chair, unconscious.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I don't want to kill you, but I can't promise you who we're going to meet won't... but at this point I have to take the risk." The vulcan remorsefully replied to the unconscious officer before taking command of the helm.
---
"Captain, you should have a look at this... we found this on Tarrak's data terminal!" An ensign ran across the bridge of the Gargantuan, the star cruiser flagship of Captain Breng, with a PADD in hand. He handed it to the startled man, who immediately began looking over it.
I want you to know that I am sorry. I have no other choice. The Terran Empire has no place for people like me. The Klingon-Cardassian Alliance despises me even more. After I lost my wife to one of your senseless battles, I knew I had to escape. Using your ships to start somewhere new was the best option I had. I anticipated you would like to use my designs to further your own treacherous agendas. And I anticipated you would kill me as soon as you had no other use for me. You will not be joining me. Live long and prosper.
The captain finished reading and pointed to the viewscreen.
"Destroy that shuttle! NOW! Don't let him get through!" He barked aloud.
"It's too late, sir.. they entered the rift!" His chief tactical officer replied.
"All ships! Converge on the rift! Destroy the Pathfinder!" The Captain leaned over to speak into the comm on his armrest.
All ships immediately powered up their impulse engines and headed for the rift quickly. Tarrak's shuttle was no match for even one of their ships, let alone all of them.
Tarrak reached over to tap in a few commands on a panel, and a modified phaser beam lanced into the rift behind him, causing the rift to explode into billions of fragments of light, sealing him off from the rest of the fleet.
Ahead of the Pathfinder, a Monarch-class exploration cruiser began to diverge on the shuttle. A hailing frequency came through.
"This is the U.S.S. Bavaria. We've identified your vessel as the I.S.S. Pathfinder. All vessels of the Terran Empire are considered enemies of the Federation. Lower your shields and prepare to be beamed aboard as prisoners, or we will open fire." A woman's voice blasted over the comm.
Tarrak swallowed hard, knowing that his vessel would be instantly blasted in a matter of moments if he did not respond quickly.
"This is Pathfinder... my name is Tarrak..."
"Lower your shields. You have 15 seconds to comply before we open fire." The woman angrily replied, cutting him off.
"Look! My name is Tarrak... I... I'm requesting political asylum. I'm not a member of the Terran Empire... but there's an officer next to me who is. I'm lowering my shields now... again, I'm requesting political asylum..." He quickly replied. He hadn't come this far for so long just to be killed on emergence into this reality.
---
"Political Asylum?" The skeptical bajoran captain looked at the vulcan as he entered the bridge, escorted by two security officers. She had the faintest hint of a smirk on her face. Obviously, never having heard of such a request from someone in the 'mirror' universe.
"We'll grant it to you for now... your associate is in sickbay... he'll be our prisoner until we figure out what to do with him." She shrugged lightly.
"He's not my associate. He's just part of a larger fleet that was following us through that dimensional tear... you should be thanking me, Captain... they would have destroyed your vessel easily." He raised one eyebrow apprehensively.
"A fleet, huh? All we picked up was your shuttle. Where is this massive fleet at?" She continued to remain skeptical.
"Subspace... I suppose you could call it limbo. They're neither here nor there. Not alive. But not dead. I abhor taking lives... perhaps they'll find a way out. Perhaps not." He shrugged lightly.
The bajoran shook her head. "Well, we have no way to substantiate it one way or the other. But I've never heard of someone from your universe asking for political asylum in ours. All the same, it's in our regulations to grant political asylum to anyone fleeing an oppresive regime... you'll be shown your quarters, Mister Tarrak. But I warn you... try anything clever and I'll break you in half like the branch of a menva tree." She offered a quick glare, still untrusting of him.
He shook his head.
"I only want to start a new life somewhere else. I assure you... I'm incapable of doing anything clever, Captain."
There was a sickening crunch, then the guard crumpled to the ground, his head wrenched to the side at an unnatural angle. With a sneer of contempt on his face, the gaunt, red-haired human kicked the body aside, then stepped to the console at which the Cardassian had been working.
Thin, bony fingers danced across the panel, causing a series of schematics and multi-function displays to rapidly flicker across the screen. The images and the movement of those fingers paused for a moment, as a map of the small facility appeared on the screen; the man's steel-grey eyes locking onto the screen, unblinkingly, searing the image into his brain. His fingers then began their rapid waltz once again, rapidly poring through the system's database, until, finally, he located the file that he sought. An image of the base's primary power source, a small fusion reactor, and a brief summary of its operations, steadily glowed on the screen.
Leaving the information displayed on the monitor, he picked up his rifle and rapidly scanned both hallways that led to his position. Satisfied that no alarm had yet been raised and that none of the other Klingons or Cardassians were approaching, he returned to the console. A practiced eye quickly dissected the relevant information from the monitor, as he examined the readout for the reactor. The sneer on his lips widened as he looked over the information. Clearing the data from the console, he looked down at the satchel on his belt, and one hand reached down to caress the Transphasic charge as he whispered, "I know just where to put you, my friend..." then he chuckled quietly.
Pulling a tricorder from another small pouch on his belt, he made a very brief scan, to pinpoint the locations of nearby enemies. Making a mental note of hallways to avoid, he set off at a brisk pace; the map of the facility, captured in his near-photographic memory, guided him on a winding descent, into the bowels of the small, rocky moon on which the facility was located. With only two more stops to update his tricorder readings, he managed to reach the reactor control room without incident.
Peering over the railing of the catwalk that circled the room, he noted that there was a single, Cardassian engineer working on the reactor and only a lone guard, an ancient-looking Klingon with equipment that looked just as ancient. He grinned, knowing that the diversionary attack that his crew was making on the base's supply stores, about a kilometer away, was having its desired effect and drawing the base's defenders away. He then started grumbling quietly, as he realized that he would not be able to get a clean shot at the guard or the engineer, without moving down into the control room. Gingerly and as quietly as he could manage, he made his way across the catwalk and down the ramp that led into the room, grimacing at each footfall that quietly echoed with a slight, metallic noise, but the reactor's ambient noise was evidently sufficient to mask his movements, as neither the guard nor the engineer reacted to his approach.
Finally reaching a clear vantage point, he squeezed off a burst of fire at the Klingon guard, who crumpled to the ground, in a motionless heap. Moving with lightning speed, however, the Cardassian engineer leapt behind a nearby piece of machinery. Cursing at the engineer's quick reaction, he quickly sprinted down the remainder of the ramp and ducked behind a console, as the Cardassian sent several, yellow beams of energy lancing out from a small pistol. Mentally steeling himself, he stood from behind the console and sent a spray of energy bolts toward the Cardassian's position, then braced himself for the inevitable return fire. The Cardassian peered around his cover and managed only a pair of beam blasts, which splashed across the man's personal shield, before return fire scorched a series of small, burning holes into his upper body, and the engineer collapsed to the floor.
Exhaling gruffly, he frowned, knowing that the noise of combat would attract the attention of the facility's remaining guards. Sensing that he needed to move swiftly, he made his way to a small access panel, located on the side of the reactor assembly. Not worried about subtlety at this point, he used the rifle to blast the panel's locking mechanism, then pried the panel open. Checking the EPS conduits inside the panel, he breathed a sigh of relief that his quick analysis (and uncanny ability to understand the inner workings of even the most complex machinery) had accurately identified a weak spot that his potent, but small, Transphasic charge could wreak havoc upon. Pulling the charge from his satchel, he set a short timer on the charge, then carefully placed it inside the panel, angling the charge so the detonation would maximize its damage and, hopefully, trigger a chain reaction in the reactor. A sinister smile settled upon his lips, as he thought of the destruction that even the small reactor would cause when it exploded. Nothing pleased him more than exquisitely-wrought devastation, particularly, when his expansive technological expertise enabled him to employ finesse to maximize the effects.
The approaching shouts of several of the base's other inhabitants was all the motivation that he needed to finish his musing and get out of the facility, as fast as he could. Tapping his wrist communicator, he said, "Marshall to Blackguard, beam me directly to the Bridge... It's done, and now we need to take our leave from this miserable rock..."
==================================================================
"Well, I still can't really explain what happened, but, you were right, I couldn't find anything in the EPS system that would have explained the explosion that disabled the reactor," said the red-haired man to the anxious-looking Cardassian, who peered over his shoulder.
"But you were able to fix it, correct?" asked the Cardassian.
"Yes, it should be back up and running smoothly... Momentarily..." the human answered, pressing several buttons on the console in front of him. A wide smile crossed his face as the reactor hummed to life. "See? I told you I could fix it," he said with a satisfied grin.
"The stories of your technical expertise are well-founded, Captain, and we are in your debt," replied the Cardassian, who breathed a long sigh of relief.
"Don't mention it... Fixing things has always been one of my great joys in life," answered the man. Clapping the Cardassian on the shoulder, he strode toward the ramp leading out of the small facility. His smile faded to a slightly-puzzled frown, as he peered down at his tricorder and examined the data he had collected while repairing the reactor. Although he had told the Cardassian the truth, that he could not definitively explain what had happened to the reactor, he had detected some unusual, multi-phasic particles, but he was not entirely certain what they might mean. Quantum anomalies had never been one of his strong disciplines, preferring, instead, studies of concrete physics and its predictable outcomes rather than dealing with things like multi-dimensional theory.
Shaking his head at the readings on the tricorder, he decided that the best thing to do would be to turn them over to V'Rot, when he returned to the ship; the Vulcan would probably be giddy, at least, as far as Vulcans can be 'giddy', at the prospect of studying an inter-dimensional phenomenon. To be fair, he supposed that the Vulcan approached a problem like that, much the same as he would approach a damaged warp core, or the reactor that he had just repaired for the Cardassian research facility; just a puzzle to be solved, with the reward being the satisfaction of having solved it.
The smile returned to his face as he tapped the combadge on his chest and said, "Marshall to Paladin, one to beam up."
Theta. Come here. Bazran barked as he pushed away his plate full of food utter disgust. What is this swill you call food?
Sir. Im sorry. It wont happen again.
Well, I suppose you are a Terran and you cant help it, but I will have to each you a lesson about how to serve your betters.
Terran slave designated three one nine theta had been the personal attendant of Bazran Talar, Intendent of Empok Nor, for almost 2 years now. He had come to know the Intendant very well but the Intendant was in a bad mood. Empok Nor had been ordered shut down and the Intendant had been taking it out on him. Though he had to admit, not all of the abuse was unwanted.
Into my bedroom now and Ill give you the lesson of a lifetime. The Intendant grabbed the slaves ear and threw him into the bed only to lock the door behind him. Only a moment had passed behind the closed doors when the door to Bazrans personal space chimed.
WHAT?! Bazran exclaimed with extreme announce. The door chimed again.
Enter, this better be important. He said as he exited his bedroom ready to see who had interrupted the lesson he was giving his slave. It was, Sar, his Breen First Officer. In general the Breen were an enemy of the Alliance however Bazran found Sar useful and as a result Sars life was spared but more than that he gave the Breen an amazing honour. The chance to become his First officer.
Shes arriving, Was all that he said, Breen werent known for the loquaciousness.
Well, I should be there to greet her give me the chance to repay her for this great opportunity. Each word was spat out with bile. This less than a being woman was responsible for seeing Empok Nor being shut down. Of course he was being rewarded with a desk job but being behind a desk meant your battle skills diminished and was all an attempt to weaken the Bajorans hold on the area.
The wandered through the well known halls of Empok Nor together as Bazrans Terran slave hurried after them bearing a pitcher and a few glasses.
It is a pleasure to see you, Nirol. Would you like some refreshment? Theta, glass for a guest.
Knowing you Bazran you probably had it poisoned. Nirol, a ferengi doctor who also had been attached to the Alliance responded as she ignored both Sar and Bazran and started to look around.
So this is my new research facility? Could be better but then again it was being Run by Bazran so I couldnt of expected much from it.
What do you mean your base? I was told they were going to shut this base down?
Yes, and then once they had already had this place shut down I convinced the Alliance to let me use it as a research base. Apparently Garak wants to do some testing of a new interrogation method see how... effective it is. Ill run the scientific end of the research while he tries it out in the real world. Oh, and sorry that youll be stuck at a desk for the rest of your life.
ARRRGGGH! exclaimed Bazran. This.... this Wench. This Ferengi Wench had beaten him if he could get away with blatant murder he would do it right here right now but he couldnt. Though perhaps... there was something that he could do about it.
Well, I guess I should show you around. Where first?
My new quarters, which by the way I want your stuff cleared out in an hour.
Bazran screwed up his face as if the thought of following her orders disgusted him.
Fine alright. Lets get this over with.
Sar, Bazran, and his Terran slave retraced their steps with Nirol following behind. They entered Bazrans quarters. Bedrooms there, alright where next?
Dont rush I wont start the clock until after the tours finished. Ill check my new room out.
She was rubbing it in, but he knew she would it was his chance to strike, of course not him personally but his Theta.
Deal with her. Bazran whispered into the Terrans ear which set him into action. The theta would kill for Bazran but he also would Kill Bazran himself at certain times but the Theta hopefully wouldnt arouse her suspicions beyond simply keeping an eye on her but a quick bludgeon over the head of the womans short frame with anything came to hand and that was it she was down and dead.
However Bazran also had to tie up loose ends, the Theta was a loose end with a quick nod Sar phasered the theta in the back. Killing her and allowing the theta to be framed for her murder.
Now, we have a chance to keep Empok Nor. Good work my cold-hearted friend I knew youd make yourself useful.
(Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I dont own it.)
Cerberus.
Even among the fledgling New Terran Dominion (including back when it was still the Terran Resistance), the name of that shadowy organization was spoken of in harsh whispers. In essence, it was analogous to Starfleets Section 31a Black Ops group that would go to any means necessary to accomplish their objectives for the good of the Terrans, even means that others considered reprehensible, such as the forbidden science of Genetic Engineering.
Proof of that now lay prone outside an Alliance Stronghold, waiting for the bases Commander to emerge from his Quarters.
Takeshi was one of Cerberus best Snipers, known to most of the organization as Archer. He was capable of hitting a target with a high degree of accuracy at the absolute outer effectiveness limits of his Phaser Sniper Rifle, acquired by Cerberus from the other universe through illegal channels. Her incredible accuracy was due in part to his origins.
Takeshi was a Designer Baby, gestated in an artificial womb and genetically altered during that period to the pinnacles of genetic perfectiona true superhuman, if you will. And after he was born, Takeshi was raised by Cerberus, his training beginning as soon as he could hold his first weapon.
As a result of his training, Takeshi was practically emotionlessand completely dedicated to the goals of Cerberus. Some of his fellow agentsas well as his handler, Elaine Rubechhad taken to nicknaming him the Perfect Soldier.
His eyes spotted movementthe Klingon General commanding this outpost was entering the open, allowing for a perfect shot. Takeshi set his Rifle for maximum power, knowing that this would drain the rifles power in five shots, but not caring in the slightest. He lined up the General in his sights, waited the briefest of moments for an optimal shot and pulled the trigger.
The General was struck right in the forehead, the power behind the blast vaporizing him in an instant. As the guards began searching for the culprit, Takeshi activated the Transport Beacon on his wrist, returning him to the Raven, his personal craft which waited for him in orbit. Raven was a Tempest-Class Shuttle, a new type of shuttle bearing many similarities to the Delta Flyer used by Starfleet. The shuttle was equipped with a Cloaking Device, which remained active even as Takeshi returned to the shuttle.
Takeshi sat in the Ravens Pilots Seat, activated the comm systems to a specific frequency, and said in his standard emotionless tone, This is Archer. Mission Complete.
Good work, Archer, came the voice of Takeshis handler, Elaine Rubech, as her face appeared on the comm screen. Director Bashir will be pleased with this. Your next target is a Cardassian Gul commanding an Alliance base in the Ortega System.
Mission Acknowledged, Takeshi replied, keeping his emotionless expression. Ill get right on it. He then closed the transmission, manipulating the controls of the Raven and sending it towards the Ortega System.
***
As the transmission ended, Elaine sat there motionless at her station at Cerberus Headquarters for a few moments. She cared for her charge, Archer, like a sister would care for her brother, but shed also developed a bit of a crush on the young man. And shed never be able to get him to notice it because he was so emotionless, and so all she could do was support him like this.
Please be careful, Archer she whispered quietly, before standing up from her station to go get some rest.
Admiral Kirk surveyed the bridge. The damage was heavy and most of the bridge crew were dead. Spock's attempt at reforms were a poison to the empire, which even stalwarts like Kirk knew was on its way out. Maybe the idea of an empire was destined to fail, Rome, England, history was littered by fallen empires, and maybe this one had run its course.
Three Klingon birds of prey surrounded the proud but battered Enterprise. There were ten when this ambush started, but the numbers were just too much, even for a legend like James T. Kirk. He might be able to take one more down, but he knew he was outgunned against a trio of vessels.
"The lead Klingon vessel is hailing us, Admiral" said Uhura. Kirk gave a nod and she activated the viewscreen. The face of Koloth filled it.
"The butcher of Organia himself. I would have expected more of a fight out of you, or are you getting too old for this?" sneered the Klingon.
"I would have expected more of a fair fight from someone who claims to be so honorable as you do, you worthless K'pekt." spat Kirk.
"You speak of Honor," the klingon laughed. "You know nothing of it. Come over here and meet me in honorable combat and I'll spare the lives of your crew. "
"Done" Kirk sneered.
Lieutenant Shayde quickly spun from her helm position and snapped to attention giving Admiral Kirk a salute. "It would be my honor to shuttle you to combat and stand as your second, since the poleron weapons have made the transporters useless." She winked at the Admiral.
Kirk got the message and said "On our way, you worthless veQ. Prepare to die."
"Today is a good day..." Kotolth said before Uhura cut him off.
"Come on Leutenant, let's not keep them waiting." Kirk headed to the turbolift with the junior officer in tow.
The ride in the turbolift was a quiet one. The admiral had barely known Shayde. She was a junior officer to the senior officer that died during that last combat. He knew everyone had an agenda, the question was what was it. So he asked.
"What's in it for you. You're nobody. You know they'll kill you as much as they'll kill me. You stay here and you might live."
Shayde smiled. "Sir, they're not going to kill either of us.
She reached into her tunic and Kirk's hand shot to his phaser. She gave a quick "It's OK, it's not a weapon" and filled the admiral in on her plan.
The shuttle cleared the hangar and glided effortlessly into space. Once on approach Shayde hailed the lead Klingon vessel.
"I'll enjoy this you klingon dog. You killed my son, now I'll send you to hell personally." Said the Admiral as the shuttle closed on the lead vessel.
"I can't wait to see you try, Kirk." Sneered Koloth in response.
Shayde brought the shuttle on a graceful approach. She tossed the recorder she used earlier in the turbolift over her shoulder and laughed. "Stupid gullible Klingons."
When she was within about 500 meters she tapped on the helm feverishly and brought the warp drive to an emergency start.
"What? Fire disrupt..." were the last things Shayde heard as she saw the starfield tear and the bird of prey impact the shuttle. It flew through the neck of the vessel shearing the bridge completely and then slammed straight into the main hull of the second. Both klingon ships burst into a brilliant ball of destruction as the Enterprise battered the third with what fight she still had in her. The third vessel didn't last long.
Admiral Kirk smiled and told Urura to open a channel to the transporter room.
"Scotty, did you get her?"
"Aye Admiral." the Scotsman replied. "A little singed but no worse for wear. Can't say that for the Klingons or me shuttle."
"Well then tell Lieutenant COMMANDER Shayde to get her butt back up here. Enterprise doesn't fly herself."
Bridge of the I.S.S. Asakura, Magellan-class research vessel, Reimers System
"So what is that thing?" Captain Kalen asked, staring at the bluish-purple swirling anomaly on the viewscreen
"I think that's one of the dimensional gates the Science Commission have been going on about," his science officer, Dutgra Joson, replied. "They've been seeding them everywhere around here. Ever since the alternate Starfleet closed off the big one in the Arawath System."
"Can we go through?" Kalen said.
"It seems stable, but are you sure that's a good idea? I mean there could be anything waiting on the other side. Federation, Klingons... Borg?"
"I'm well aware of that, Commander. However, the chances of jumping into the middle of a battle are slim. If the alternate Reimers System is as dead as this one, we'll be..."
He was interrupted by his tactical officer, a Vulcan female named Sovak. "Sir, there's something coming through the breach!"
"Identify!"
"It's a ship... Starfleet."
"Ours or theirs?"
"Theirs. Registry reads as NCC-101165, U.S.S. Arael. Some kind of advanced battleship. Reads as Gryphon-class. Oh? Captain, for some inexplicable reason they are hailing us."
"They probably haven't worked out where they are yet."
"But," Dutgra interrupted. "They flew through that portal. They were probably sent here."
"Think, Commander. That is a warship. If the Feds were doing research, they'd send a science ship. If they wanted to invade, they'd send a fleet. One lone escort means that it's here by mistake. Onscreen."
The viewscreen was filled with the image of a young woman. She had pale skin, brown hair, and a visible Borg implant on her cheek. "Eight of Twelve, acting Captain of the U.S.S. Arael," she said in the typical curt manner of newly liberated drones. "Our ship was dragged through a dimensional distortion. The Captain is dead and the ship has sustained major damage. It is unlikely that we would survive a return trip. Are you able to assist us?"
"Do you know where you are?" Kalen shot back.
"We were in the Reimers System, although I understand that the dimensional rift could have taken us to any point in spacetime..."
"No. I mean which side are you on. Scan this ship."
Eight looked confused, but gave the order. "I.S.S. Asakura," she read. "The Terran Empire. So we are in what is known in my dimension as the Mirror Universe?"
"I believe that's what you call it, yes."
"Regardless, are you willing to help us?"
Kalen laughed. "Why should we help you?"
"Why shouldn't you?"
"Oh, I don't know? How about the fact that I could disable your ship and hand it over to the Engineering Corps. We get all of the technology with none of the hassle."
"This is a warship, Captain. Entering into combat with us is not advisable."
"You said yourself, your ship is damaged. And just because Federation science vessels aren't heavily armed, doesn't mean that we're so naive. Surrender, and I'll be quite happy to drop you and your crew off at the nearest planet on our way back."
The transmission was cut from the other side.
"She cut the link, sir," Sovak explained.
"Thank you for stating the ob..." Kalen didn't get a chance to finish his sentence before the Asakura was rocked by an explosion.
"Transphasic torpedo!" Sovak said. "Fore shields holding at 88%."
"If she wants to be like that, fine," Kalen said. "Jam their targeting sensors, tractor beam when we're in range and fire at will. I want a readout on their capabilities."
"Shields at full power, hull integrity at about 35%, weapons power 40% and rising."
+++++
On board the Arael
"They're jamming our sensors, I can't get a lock on anything out there!" the ship's Andorian tactical officer reported.
"Fire a volley of torpedoes. Use visual aiming," Eight ordered. "Raekel, go to Engineering, do what you can to assist. Structural integrity is a top priority. Inform me as soon as we're fit to head back through the distortion."
The young officer nodded and then ran to the turbolift.
"Targeting sensors back online!" the Andorian shouted.
"Target the sensor pod on the dorsal side."
"Sir?"
"It's lightly shielded, now do it."
+++++
The Asakura was again shaken violently by an explosion.
"What now!" Kalen demanded.
"They hit the sensor pod. Dorsal shields down to 20%."
"Where's that tractor beam!"
"Coming in range in three, two, one... got them!" Sovak shouted.
"Hail them."
Eight's face appeared on the screen again.
"I was expecting something a bit more... interesting?" Kalen said. "Not much of a warship. Still, I'm sure that the boys in Engineering will make some use of it. Now, as you rejected my most gracious offer to surrender, your crew will be taken into custody and put to use in some nasty dilithium mine somewhere."
"I don't think that will be happening," Eight replied.
"Oh really? And why not?"
"I'm making preparations to eject the warp core. At current power, it will be pulled toward your tractor beam emitter. On contact the antimatter will annihilate, destroying your ship."
Kalen clapped slowly. "How clever. That plan would destroy us both. I thought Borg were supposed to be smart. To be efficient."
"You will be destroyed. We won't. The Arael is outfitted with advanced reactive shielding capable of withstanding the explosion."
"No shielding is capable of sustaining two warp-core breaches at close range, it's just not possible," Kalen replied. Internally, however, he was beginning to worry. Perhaps the UFP did have advanced shielding. Maybe she really would go through with her crackpot plan.
"The question is, Captain, do you want to find out. Are you willing to risk the lives of your crew on that assumption?"
Kalen thought for a minute or so, staring Eight down. "Release the tractor beam."
"Captain?" Sovak replied, shocked.
"Do it."
Outside, the Arael rounded the Asakura and headed straight for the portal.
"Well?" Kalen shouted. "Full Impulse, follow them! You thought I was going to give up?"
The two ships raced toward the anomaly, but the Arael was clearly faster. It would reach the portal long before the Asakura, and with the Asakura's targeting systems damaged by Eight's attack on the sensor pod, the crew were having difficulty locking on to the small warship.
"Sir," Dutgra began. "If we fire an antiproton beam at the distortion, we might be able to destabilise it, stop them from escaping." Kalen nodded, and she got to work preparing the pulse.
Meanwhile, the Asakura continued to fire half-blind toward the Arael. As the sensor systems were hastily repaired, more and more of the shots found home, and eventually a shot took out one of the Arael's nacelles.
+++++
"They hit the port nacelle, Captain!"
"Well, let's hope we reach the portal before they get the chance to finish us off, the helm is completely unresponsive," the helm officer announced.
"Eject the warp plasma, it may slow them down," Eight ordered. "It's useless to us now."
On the screen, Eight watched as the portal got closer and closer. Somewhere her inside cybernetic mind a spark activated, the spark of hope. The hope that they'd make it, the hope that the Asakura wouldn't be able to lock on and blow her ship away, the hope that she'd see her own reality again. She was ripped from her thoughts by a sudden flash on the viewscreen. "What was that?" she asked.
"Antiproton pulse!" a science officer shouted back. "They're trying to destabilise the rift!"
"Will we make it through?"
"No idea!"
"Launch all remaining torpedoes back at the Asakura's deflector array. I don't want them trying that a second time while we're inside!"
Five proton torpedoes shot toward the larger ship, two sailed straight past, two hit the sides of the deflector but one hit the array itself.
The Arael headed into the anomaly which by this point was crackling violently with unstable antiproton energy. The small ship was buffetted and hit with energy discharges, but after about half a minute it emerged back into normal space.
"Damage report!" Eight demanded.
"Er... we're running on emergency power, thrusters only, the shields are down, life support is failing and don't even think about weapons."
"What about the anomaly?"
As the Arael slowly turned around on its thrusters, the crackling distortion became visible again. It pulsed with an intense white light for a few seconds before collapsing completely.
"Captain, we're being hailed," the tactical officer said.
"What is it now?"
"Don't worry, Captain, it's definitely a Federation signature. We're only going to be able to get audio with the state of these systems."
"Put it through."
There was a pulse of static before the message resolved. "...U.S.S Arael, do you receive me? Does anybody read me?"
"Yes, we read you. We're damaged but alive. What is your current position?"
"Luckily for you, on the edge of the system, ETA about ten minutes."
"Hang on, I recognise that voice," the helm officer said uneasily.
"It is... familiar," Eight agreed. "Captain? Would you mind telling me your name and that of your vessel?"
"Er, of course... Yalesz Kalen, U.S.S. Asakura. Is that important?"
"No. It is just... curious."
"I like curious things. I'm looking forward to hearing the story. Kalen out."
Communications Officer Ryn swiveled around in her chair, Sir, incoming message from I.S.S. Revenge. Its real-time.
Pipe it to my ready room. Secure channel, ordered Commodore Jarek Armstrong of the Imperial Starship I.S.S. Resolute, standing up from his command chair. He tugged down on his sleeveless command tunic, smoothing its greenish-gold cloth into place and adjusted his dagger and sash. Live real-time communications this far out were resource intensive and rarely used when a simple subspace missive would accomplish the same purpose for a tenth of the energy outlay. This must be important. He left the bridge and entered the small private room off of the bridge.
He moved to the viewscreen at the desk and keyed in his access code. A stern Andorian face appeared on the screen. Her antennae were thrust forward like two striking serpents, showing anger or at the very least extreme annoyance. Armstrong was privately amused; Andorians were a passionate people as they liked to say; it made them easy to read.
Commodore, the Andorian began, saluting, is this a secure channel?
Armstrong returned the salute, his right fist over his heart before extending his arm, palm outward, Of course, Captain Firal. You may speak freely. Jareks eyes narrowed and his mouth quirked into an ironic half-smile. All ship-to-ship communications were monitored, both electronically and by Imperial agents, present in all ship crews to some extent especially since that half-Vulcan interloper had seized the throne on Terra. No one had predicted the meteoric rise of Spock after Kirks ham-fisted blunder with the Halkans; rumor had it that Kirk was assassinated by his own mistress after failing to follow Imperial protocol to subjugate the uncooperative Halkan population, but his body was never found. That same mistress was now Spocks personal companion and confidant at the Imperial Palace; no doubt a reward for her faithful service.
Captain Firals antennae twitched almost imperceptibly; the Andorian equivalent of clearing ones throat.
Commodore Armstrong took the hint, One moment, there has been increased ionic storm activity in this region, let me compensate, the screen flickered several times as the terminal cycled to a randomly determined encryption algorithm. A picture-in-picture display showed a pre-recorded military update from Captain Firal to Commodore Armstrong; thats what any eavesdroppers would see.
Much better, Jarek said as he seated himself at his desk and poured himself a glass of Aldebaran Whiskey from the nearby bottle. He took a swig of the fragrant green liquor, swishing it around his mouth casually as an implant in the roof of his mouth tested it for toxins; detecting none, he swallowed, appreciating the spreading warmth. No one had tried to poison him yet, it being such an obvious means of removal, but he never ruled out some ambitious amateur trying one of the classics.
The Andorian captains antennae relaxed into a neutral position. You got the gift I sent, Firal said, indicating the glass Jarek held with a nod of her head.
Yes, an excellent vintage, and fast becoming a rarity since the unfortunate accident that rendered most of Aldebarans arable land toxic and barren, Jarek responded as he finished what was in his glass and smiled. How fortunate that there were several off-world concerns ready to pick up the slack. Someone made a tidy profit there, didnt they?
Captain Firal nodded briefly, Well, I know how you like green things. Firals antennae were stock still, an Andorian poker face, but her tone was plain.
Jarek raised an eyebrow. Obviously, that comment was aimed at his Orion Communications Officer, Anea Ryn. It was no secret on board that he had assigned Anea to more personal duties in recent weeks and evidently that news had reached Firal which meant she still had at least one contact onboard informing for her. Careless, thought Jarek, never let personal feelings deprive you of a valued resource like a well-placed spy. Jealousy ill suits you, ShalanTora.
Captain Firal looked vaguely insulted, Only cautious, as anyone should be around an Orion, sir. Weve both got too much on the line to risk on foolish dalliances.
Nice try, the commodore thought, but I could always read you, dear girl, ever since you were a cadet. No one can replace you, Tora, he said with a placating smile, using his affectionate nickname for her. And, in fact, Ryn is an Imperial spy.
Firals antennae waggled momentarily showing a mixture of alarm and confusion before she tamped it down and regained her composure; her expression never changed. I assume that she will have an unfortunate accident soon, then?
Jarek was silent, seeming to consider whether to pour himself another drink. His eyes were smiling teasingly, though.
Commodore! Firal barked irritably.
That Andorian temperament, Jarek mused. For now she serves our purposes. She is clearly unaware that my enhanced metabolism makes me immune to her biochemical charms but by playing the fool for her, I make sure she only relays what I wish Imperial Starfleet Command to know.
A dangerous ploy, sir, Firal said finally, but I defer to your greater experience. Jarek sighed inwardly; that was Toras way of calling him an old fool while conceding the point.
You didnt contact me to see if I got your present. Has there been a development on your end? Jarek inquired.
Indeed. Spocks machinations are deviously subtle in the extreme, more befitting a Romulan than a Vulcan. He has an uncommonly disciplined and powerful mind, but my Betazoid assets have finally come through for me.
Jareks mouth twisted sourly; he disliked telepaths and would not tolerate them on his ship, but Tora harbored no such prejudice and employed several covertly as spies in key positions throughout the fleet. And? Jarek asked as he reined in his distaste.
You were correct. Spock is slowly but surely destroying the Empire. His social reforms weaken every aspect of our society. Imperial Intelligence is expending more resources watching its own citizens and ship commanders than foreign threats. He alienates our allies, allows crucial treaties to lapse, and encourages our enemies through inattention and carelessness. The fleet goes wanting for lack of funding; some commanders reduced to marauding for crucial resources. Our borders have never been more at risk. He proclaims it the beginning of a new Golden Age but it is death by a thousand cuts.
Armstrong nodded absently as Tora finished. How long would you say this process will take?
As I said, its subtle. Depending on how perceptive, and ambitious, our enemies are, it could still be years perhaps decades, but no longer than that.
And our side projects? How do they progress?
We have caches of weapons, latinum, and valuable commodities stockpiled in sleeper vaults on several Imperial worlds and some outside the Empire as well.
If possible, move as much as we can out of the Empire. My own investigations have detected definite diplomatic maneuverings between the Cardassians and Klingons. I have done what I can to slow the process but the bloods already in the water. I suggest we make our move sooner rather than later. Meet me at the designated coordinates in one standard week.
Captain Firal nodded curtly. It shall be so, at least some of the Empire will survive through us. She saluted formally and signed off.
Jarek sat back and steepled his fingers, staring at the blank screen. I didnt survive the Eugenics Wars, cryonic suspension on an experimental sleepship, and six assassination attempts to meekly submit as some half-blooded traitor poisons us from within.
Ryn would have to be dealt with immediately. He couldnt risk her informing her superiors of his actions. He poured himself another swig of the whiskey and downed it in one gulp. He retrieved an ampoule from an inner pocket in his tunic and emptied the contents into the remaining whiskey and recapped the bottle, swirling the liquor a few times. He stood and exited the ready room, taking the bottle with him.
As he came onto the bridge, he noted Lt. Ryns slender green fingers quickly move over her communications console; no doubt queuing his decoy report for transmission to her Imperial masters.
Lieutenant Ryn, join me in my quarters. I have some reports, he sloshed the whiskey in the bottle for emphasis, I need to go over with you, Jarek made for the turbolift as Ryn secured her station and rose to join him, a sweet smile on her lips. The turbolift doors scythed shut behind her.
This time, the beam had changed, and initiated a multidimensional transport. It felt unnatural, like there was something we were supposed to see from that transport. And something we did see. We arrived in what is so often called the Mirror Universe. For a while it wasn't immediately obvious but then we encountered a small flotilla of Terran ships, fighters mostly. After everything I tried to explain, they opened fire and obviously notified their superiors.
I knew it wasn't long before we encountered something big, like the Klingon-Cardasian Alliance, whom I didn't want to entangle myself with. I pulled up what information we had and distributed it. We made sure to prepare the crew for their alter egos and focussed on trying to find a way back. We theorized that such transporter technology may also be found in parallel, or may even possibly originate here.
Our theory turned out to have merit. Upon returning to the parallel co-ordinates, long range scans picked up something massive; a huge Borg transwarp conduit that seemed to have no discernible destination. The complex was guarded by at least 8 cubes and other small vessels that were locked in combat with a group of Terran ships. Upon scanning the engagement, we found the lead vessel; the Satsuma. Far from the Terran Nebula, it was what could best be described as a Defiant. It felt fitting to the stereotype that a diplomatic ship be incarnated as a lethal warship there.
I decided, since the Borg were unlikely to lend us their big toy and also likely to be the cause of our arrival, to open a channel with the Satsuma. I expected me, with eye-liner and maybe a cape, scar down the cheek and likely Leila, my Orion helm officer, on a leash. Instead I got Sianna, my cousin and first officer, from the Mirror Universe as a Captain. Funnily enough, Leila was indeed on a leash.
I asked where my counterpart was and if we could barter a trade of assistance for use of the Borg hub. Sianna being as intelligent as in our universe, accepted and despite the desperate odds we whittled the numbers down to a few cubes but kept my whereabouts to herself. I imagined she'd probably stabbed me in my sleep or something. However, the battle had become more difficult. The Borg were adapting and seemed to be outwitting me at every turn.
Then I found out why. The Satsuma was ensnared in a tractor beam and the shields failed. In a moment I saw why I wasn't on the mirror ship. Appearing in front of me, minus the hair and skin pigmentation, was me. Assimilated. That was my fate here. It became clear that it hadn't been long as the drone was still in it's uniform. I was surprised when it spoke alone and made no hostile move.
Then he began speaking as other Borg took the ship, we are the Borg. We have brought you here for assimilation after we acquire the knowledge you possess for dimensional transport. I thought he was joking but it turned out the drone, dubbed Five, was uniquely tasked to make multidimensional transport possible for the Borg and he had chosen me as his first target. The idea sounded terrible. The Federation had to deal with two universe's worth of Borg, as well as everything else?
We locked ourselves in combat. Our anti-assimilation techniques, unknown to the Borg there, helped us clear the ship and win over the battle. Five escaped to a ship and fled, likely what I would have done. Mirror Sianna requested we leave through the hub and after a few hours we understood enough of the technology to initiate the transport. I don't know what became of them after that.
I have this funny feeling, every time I look in the mirror, I'm going to see Five staring back. Probably the most ingenious foe I've met thus far. Likely, the most deadly.
Today we start the two-week run of the sixth Lit Challenge: Not THAT guy...
Write about your Captain having to interact with another character (or even NPC) they really cannot stand for a number of reasons.
Remember when that one officer was transferred to your ship? He's been a pain in the neck since they stepped off that transporter platform. Or that new Fleet General? Who does she think she is; just because Mommy came from a great house! And do NOT get my started on that new diplomat you were send to chauffeur around the quadrant...
This is the writer's thread.
The Discussion Thread can be found HERE.
We also have an index page of stories HERE.
The rules may change from one to the other, but I'd like to give a quick recap each time. These may grow as we move on, so feel free to also give feedback!
First that idiot has me go on a wild goose chase near the Neutral Zone and then he has me handle the Devidian crisis.
Oh, wait that's right, I'm not supposed to talk about that. But what do I care, that moron sent us back in time with a disguise that was sure to provoke both sides! Did the guy not spend one day in Federation History? For a man who claims to be serving the Federation's interest he sure is a major TRIBBLE up.
Daily he is asking me to fix those satellites. I have had my engineering team themselves beam over there and fix them yet they mysteriously go down EVERY DAY! The man could TRIBBLE up installing a light bulb.
Franklin Drake, you are the bane of my existence. If you ever put my ship into danger again because of your idiocy, I will shove you out the nearest airlock myself.
"Admiral, we've received the signal. The dignitary's party is ready for transport."
Rygo glanced over his shoulder and nodded. The transporter chief operated the panel, and activated the transporter. The transporter pad whirred, and three figures materialized in motes of blue light. In the center was a Ferengi wearing incredibly regal clothes. He was obviously wealthy. Flanking him to the left and right was a pair of Hypurians wearing dark clothes, probably for security. As soon as the trio materialized, the Ferengi began hobbling off the platform and speaking in a raspy voice. "Ah, Admiral! Good to finally meet you... I expected you to be... human." Rygobeth's face remained neutral. He hadn't made it to Ambassador without being able to take a few racial comments, although it hadn't helped that he was the only known living member of his race.
Rygobeth said, "It's nice to finally meet you, as well, mister..." His voice trailed for a moment. Admiral Quinn hadnt told Rygo the Ferengis name! Rantik, you nitwit! The Ferengi answered, a little rudely. Rygobeth replied, more politely than the diplomat had spoken, Thank you, Rantik. Admiral Quinn neglected to-. Rantik interrupted. Dont make excuses! And speaking of Quinn, he bragged about this ship quite a bit. Begin the tour! Rygobeth sighed quietly, annoyed. Rygobeth replied, more cheery than he had felt since the Ferengi beamed aboard, Of course! Right this way.
The tour took an hour or so. Rantik had nothing but complaints. Bah, I could find better in Romulan refugee camps! You call that impressive? Thats not fit for me to spit on! At one point, Rantik decided to try the replicator, ordering a bottle of Synthahol. He took a sip and spat it in Rygobeths face. You call THIS Synthahol? THIS is PATHETIC! He then poured the bottle onto the ground. Rygobeth, through all of this, contained his temper to the point of exploding. Finally, they arrived at Rantiks quarters. He walked in and said, Is THIS the best youve got? No WONDER the Empire is winning the war He then moved toward his baggage (which had been transported here upon beaming aboard), opened it, and pulled out a number of objects. They were trinkets, probably personal effects, and brought them to the Admiral. He groaned, You can have them for 15 slips of Latinum each. Rygobeth politely said, No, thank you. Rantik seemed offended. It WASNT an option! BUY IT! This was the straw that broke the camels back. With an explosive yell, he cried out at Rantik, SHUT THE FERENGI UP!
Rantik laughed. I like that little play on words. Its about TIME you reacted! Im impressed, you Federations really are patient. Itll be a PLEASURE having my mines selling exclusively to the Federation! Theres no better tritanium and dilithium in the quadrant! The annoying, testy Ferengi laughed as Rygo walked away. Rygo walked back out, thinking, What was that? He was testing me? Arrogant Ferengi
"Krovennan, I-"
"Don't you dare "Krovennan" me! You know my title full and well and you will address me by it while you are onboard my ship!"
Very well, Vice Admiral. What about when we a-"
The diplomat's snide question was cut short by a loud crash on Krovennan's desk, were there was once a prisine surface below his fist was now a fist sized dent in the metal, his Andorian First Officer, Tallasa, kept her gaze forward, she knew better than to annoy Krovennan now, this incompetent diplomat loved to insult everyone, even the ones he was trying to make peace with, it was no less of a miracle that he was still a diplomat.
"Unless spending the rest of the return trip in the brig is something you aspire to, I'd choose your next words very carefully."
"Of course Vice Admiral, I believe I shall retire to my quarters until you are in a mood better befitting a Vice Admiral."
The aged Saurian man got up slowly and walked even slower, a look of superiority on his face as he walked out of the room that was Krovennan's quarters, Tallasa watched him out of the corner of her eye until the doors hissed closed behind him, when her attention turned to Krovennan, who had fallen silent.
Tallasa waited as the tension became so thick the knife would get stuck. Krovennan gazed ahead and downwards in silence for another minute, before Tallasa acted on a sudden instinct to move out of the way, as she rolled away from behind Krovennan, a chair soon found itself embedded in the console right where her head had been.
"That arrogant, condescending, incompetent surkama! Of all the Vice Admirals they ask to ferry this idiot to and fro they ask me, why the hell hasn't someone shot him yet? I was certain that last delegation was going to!"
Krovennan had now taken to swearing in Vilscaran, since he had just quite strongly questioned the marital status of the diplomat's parents, Tallasa knew that was the sign that the Federation was not in his mind, so she stood at ease and walked towards Krovennan.
"I know your struggle Krovennan, I have no idea why the Federation put you in charge of a diplomat opposed to the Vilscaran Empire, but we have no choice, your the representative of the Vilscaran Empire, you can't throw him out of the airlock, especially while the negotiations are ongoing."
Tallasa put her hand on Krovennan's shoulder, the rock hard muscles soon softened as Krovennan relaxed.
"Your right Tallasa, it's hard to keep myself from welding him inside his quarters, but I suppose breaking a console or two will suffice until we reach DS9."
"Krovennan, you've known me since we were both Ensigns, when have I not been right about these things?"
"Point taken, I'm going to go walk around the ship, call in an Engineering Team to deal with the mess."
"Yes Vice Admiral."
Becoming formal once more Tallasa tapped her combadge, Krovennan's back disappeared behind the doors just as her combadge responded.
"Engineering here."
"Gyzit, I need you to send a repair team to the Vice Admiral's quarters."
"The Diplomat this time?"
"Yeah."
"They are already on their way, Engineering out."
Meanwhile, Krovennan walked throughout his vessel, the corridors were so much brighter than those on Vilscaran vessels that he was used to, where black metal and most power diverted to essential systems made the corridors very dark indeed. Krovennan still sometimes found it disorientating, but today he simply ignored this fact and pressed on.
Throughout the corridors he walked crewmen went about their business, Drehera was scanning a group of crewmen for an illness that had been spreading among the ship, Kri'gak was busy taking his job as Chief of Security to heart, currently berating two crewmen for getting in a brawl over suspected tampering with each other's replicator.
Krovennan felt it refreshing to be among the crew, like many Vilscarans, he was most at home on a ship, and here, on his own vessel, he felt at ease once more.
This was short lived however, as the trip went on, the diplomat became more and more insufferable, frequently complaining over trivial matters to any crew member who passed, staring over the shoulder of the Engineering crew's work and then seemingly compuled to break something the moment their backs are turned. At one point, the Diplomat cornered a few unwilling crew members into a conversation where he almost suggested that the Vilscaran race were a liability and they should be cast off, naturally the crew members reported this to Krovennan, who soon got Gyzit's teams busy rebuilding parts of his quarters.
Krovennan relaxed the moment he heard the distant mechanical sound that signalled the Blacksabre's docking with DS9, Krovennan slumped slightly in his chair on the Bridge, after afew minutes the call was made that the diplomat had left the ship, Krovennan immediately transferred command of the Bridge to tallasa and headed to Quark's.
As Krovennan clutched the clay and metal bottle used to hold Vilscaran Whisky he mused back and decided things could not get any worse. This thought kept him calm until he took a drink of the Whisky, he almost spat it back out. Krovennan had had enough, Krovennan saw Betran in the back and beckoned him over, the Ferengi came over oblivious to Krovennan's anger, but he got the message when Krovennan grabbed the front of his collar and pulled him down to his level.
If the message was still not clear, the moment Krovennan brought his right hand upp and triggered the mechanism to release two black duranium claws from the wrist attachment Betran had no doubt Krovennan was not happy.
"Listen you little worm, when I agree to pay you to import Vilscaran Whisky, I expect you to import it! If you serve me this replicated dishwater again, I'll refashion your lobes with these claws, am I clear?"
Betran nodded and Krovennan released him, Betran took the offending knock off away and kept his distance from Krovennan, who kept silent until he returned to his Quarters.
"This has not been my week."
USS Normandy, en-route to Deep Space 12
Standard Earth Date: July 26th, 2411
Shipboard time: 0332
A weird whirring sound awoke Arachnidus. He sat up in his bed, looking to his left to see if his his bed-mate was responsible, but there, Lieutenant Kate Lawson lay, sound asleep under the covers. As he looked around the dim quarters, illuminated only faintly by the light of a nearby nebula, he saw what the disturbance was.
"Commander, we need to talk. Now."
Woken up by the voice, Lieutenant Lawson sat up in the bed.
"Richard, what-" she stopped herself upon seeing the intruder, and lifted the blankets to cover herself. Arachnidus got out of bed, wearing nothing but his shorts and walked over to the balding, aged, holographic figure that appeared in his room.
"Doctor Zimmerman, I don't mean to be rude, but what the hell are you doing in my quarters?". The doctor looked over to the bed and saw the captain's companion, quickly pulling herself off the bed, blankets included, towards the bathroom, and smirked.
"Sorry to intrude, commander, but I have to talk to you about installing these holographic emitters on all the de-". Before he could finish, Arachnidus lifted his hand to his holographic mouth and spoke.
"Doctor Zimmerman, let me be clear. I have the utmost respect for you and your work, and I will conduct myself as any Starfleet officer should. But right now, it would be best for you to go back to your quarters and stay there. Or go to the holodeck. Somewhere. Anywhere that isn't here or another one of my officer's quarters. Understood?" he said. This was not the first time Arachnidus was interrupted during the night during the trip from Jupiter Station to Deep Space 12 on the border of the Alpha and Beta quadrants. The trip wasn't long, only a day or so at maximum warp, but due to warp drive upgrades, the Normandy was stuck at Warp 6 and without any slipstream capabilities.
Part of this was because Doctor Louis Zimmerman, the father of modern holography, revolutionary computer designer and notorious pain in the neck, or analogue for species without, had come aboard to upgrade the Normandy's holodecks and central computer, leaving them running on secondary command processors for the entire mission; only the bioneural gel processors in the ship kept the vessel going.
Normally, this would be just a nuisance, but Doctor Zimmerman was a peculiar man. He was responsible for the EMH in the sickbay, which had, on several occasions, helped CMO Narinaya and her medical staff keep the crew alive in some particularly vicious battles both on the Normandy and Arachnidus' previous command, the Luna. However, that did not make up for his rudeness, which was only bolstered by his god complex.
Doctor Zimmerman was diagnosed with a fatal illness resembling that of the Vidiian Phage in 2376, but cured by the EMH Mark I from Voyager. However, several years later, he had succumbed to the illness, which had resurfaced and was unresponsive to treatment due to it's genetic nature. Death, though, was not enough to take Zimmerman from the world, and he'd devised an ingenius method of transferring his consciousness into a holomatrix. For some reason, this method had not worked on anybody else, and only the good doctor, but the results spoke for themselves. Now in a holographic body, he was constrained to the same physical dimensions of every other hologram. Not satisfied with that, he reverse engineered the mobile emitter used by Voyager's EMH for himself, and he was now free to travel just as he did in life- except for when the battery died every few months or so. To prevent that, when on board a ship, he existed much as any EMH; in the confines of a holoemitter equipped room.
Unfortunately for Commander Arachnidus 'Vadam and the crew of the USS Normandy, that included all of Engineering, the Bridge, Sick Bay, the holodecks, the Shuttle Bay and most crew quarters; all the places that a medical emergency could conceivably happen. Which led to tonight's event.
"Yes, captain. Goodbye!". The holographic image of the doctor faded away. The door of the bathroom slid open and Lieutenant Lawson appeared, dressed in a Starfleet t-shirt belonging to Arachnidus that read Class of 2399, and shorts.
"Richard, I don't care if I have to protest formally as second officer, but that man needs to seriously learn some manners. Mark's been saying that the entire crew is complaining, he's worse than the EMH". Her use of Arachnidus' name translated into English, as usual, did little to comfort the Commander. He always felt on edge when a VIP was on board; more so when that VIP was a hologram who happened to pop into his room while he slept next to one of his fellow officers. No matter how happy he was with her, and no matter that there were no regulations against it, he was still a little uncomfortable with the arrangement while on board the ship.
"Well, that makes sense. He did create them, after all. He'll be gone in a few days" Arachnidus said, while dressing in his standard Red-Black Command uniform. While he put on his pants, Kate walked to the replicator.
"Two Raktajinos, one sweet". She lifted the two mugs and handed the sweet one to Arachnidus. After taking a sip of the artificially created and warmed Klingon "coffee" (Ensign Bagh, the resident Klingon on Normandy, once told him that Klingons had no need for coffee- they simply enjoyed the taste), he looked at Kate and spoke.
"You know, your duty shift's in two hours. You don't need to come now, go back to sleep."
"Are you telling me that as my boyfriend, or as the captain?" she asked flirtatiously.
"A little bit of both, I suppose" he said, as he set down the drink and embraced her. After a slightly more than PG-13 kiss, he let go of her hand and walked towards the door, picking up the mug of Raktajino on the way out. "I'll be on the bridge. Good...morning, I guess, lover". She blew him a kiss and he walked off towards the turbolift. His best friend and XO, Mark Parker, had the bridge. He had been suffering from a bout of insomnia and needed the command experience, especially considering the entire crew was going to be reviewed in a few weeks as a precursor to the wholesale promotion of the crew. It seemed Starfleet had finally found it odd that they put a Commander in charge of a ship of the line. Getting back on track, Arachnidus tapped his combadge with his free hand and spoke low, not wanting to disturb any crew members that might be asleep, even knowing the walls were soundproofed.
"Commander 'Vadam to the bridge. I'm on my way up". The heads up was immediately responded to by Lieutenant Commander Parker.
"Aye, sir."
After a brief turbolift ride, Arachnidus stepped out from the port alcove and walked onto the bridge. The setup was like a mix between the Sovereign and Galaxy classes, with a large arch behind the Captain, XO and adviser chairs, and two independent consoles flanking them for Ops and Engineering. To the front of the ship, by the view screen, were two conns; one for Navigation and the other for Flight Control. To aft of the Command Seats, were three sciences stations, each serving a variety of purposes. Starfleet finally had the sense to put seats at each station; every one of them equipped with seatbelts, considering the odd amount of ramming and crash landings of the past fifty years.
As he walked to the seats and past the tactical arch, Lieutenant Commander Parker stood up.
"Captain on the bridge." As he spoke, the other officers looked up at attention.
"As you were." Arachnidus walked to his chair as Lt. Cdr. Parker arose and moved to the right to his own.
"Sir, there's a full report on your console."
"Thank you, commander. Anything interesting?" Arachnidus desperately wanted a distraction from the tedium of dealing with Doctor Zimmerman.
"Not much. Just the usual; reports from paranoid Deep Space captains about possible Undine incursions, more Borg sightings, a battle with the Klingons, gaseous anomalies...and about twenty complaints and six requests for a meeting from Doctor Zimmerman" the XO spoke. "Looks like you've got a busy day, Richard."
"Don't remind me. Might as well get started" Arachnidus responded. He pressed the comms button on his console and spoke. "Bridge to Doctor Zimmerman. This is the captain, I'll be in my ready room if you'd like to talk."
Immediately, a response came through. Not verbally, but right in front of his eyes. For the second time in twenty minutes, Doctor Louis Zimmerman appeared before his eyes in a shimmer of photons and forcefields.
"Finally. Well?" he said. Arachnidus looked at Mark and stood.
"Commander Parker, you have the bridge" he said as he walked off to his ready room door located at the starboard-aft side of the bridge, past the science stations. The pair walked in. "Please, sit, doctor".
As the two sat down, Arachnidus could sense this meeting was going to be interesting, to say the least.
"You wanted to talk, doctor?"
"Yes, captain. The upgrades are coming along adequately, but your chief engineer and his staff are being ridiculously stubborn! And on top of that, your ship's holoemitters are out of alignment! Do you know what it feels like to be materialized inside a bulkhead? It's oddly comforting, but that's not the point!" Zimmerman protested angrily.
"I'm sorry, doctor. But Lieutenant Bramner briefed me on the situation. You want to download your holomatrix into our main computer and rewrite the code manually, yes?" the captain spoke diplomatically.
"Yes, it would greatly speed up the process."
"But aren't there a variety of problems with that?". Arachnidus would allow it, but after being told of the possible catastrophic consequences, he agreed with his Chief's assessment and denial.
"Oh, they're not that bad" the doctor said, flailing his arms in the air to get the point across, as if he were waving the concerns away. Arachnidus' eyes widened.
"...Doctor Zimmerman, I've been told that the code subsection you're working on is the one that manages the computer's interface with the exotic matter containment for the slipstream drive. And that if something goes wrong and that containment fails, Main Engineering could become the epicenter of a black hole. That's what I'd qualify as that bad" Arachnidus said. Though he was tired from being up at such an early hour, this was actually fairly amusing. He enjoyed these arguments with one of his inspirations. "Can't you just interface with a console and do it through one of them?".
"I'll review it with the chief. And I planned on having the holoemitters refit anyway. You can oversee that, if you'd like". Arachnidus had a feeling this would satiate Zimmerman for the time being, until he could figure out a compromise for the computer upgrades. As the holographic avatar for one of the universe's most brilliant minds pondered the decision, the captain mentally remarked how amazing it was that the man was able to transfer his mind, his consciousness, some would even say his soul, into a modular computer program that was responsible for a hologram's behavior, looks and basic being. The thought was broken by the man's response.
"Alright. But I expect to be informed of your decision immediately."
"Deal. Is that all, Doctor?" Arachnidus was eager to get back to the bridge.
"Yes" Zimmerman said, as he walked out of the cabin. Arachnidus wondered about this act. Why not just transfer his avatar back to his quarters? Guess some habits die hard. A thought then dawned on the captain. One of his idols, as annoying as he was, was on board his ship. This may be the only opportunity he could ever have to discuss...anything, with him.
"Doctor, hold on a second" he said before the man could leave the room. "I wanted to know, would you like to join me on the holodeck later, say, around 0900? I have some ideas I'd like to discuss with you". Zimmerman was visibly surprised by the offer, and smile crested on his face.
"You know, I read your file. Average student, but all of your professors said you had the potential to be great, but that you were lazy. I could teach you some stuff before I go. See if they were right. Are you sure your girlfriend, that Lieutenant, won't mind?" he asked, a sarcastic yet elated tone in his voice.
"I think she'll forgive me this once."
"So be it. See you at 0900, Spidey". With that, his avatar blurred out of existence, likely going to main engineering to supervise the refit of the ship's holoemitters. Walking back to his chair, he looked at his XO, who promptly commented.
"He appears. Seems like you survived the meeting". Sitting back in his chair, the captain stared at the view screen. Even though it looked 2D, it was essentially a hologram, allowing it to display trillions of colors and to show depth, and to reconfigure itself as necessary; one of Doctor Zimmerman's inventions. Without this screen, that they took for granted every day, who knows how history could have wound up? As the Temporal Prime Directive stated, any little change could alter the timeline irreparably. How much of space would he have missed if Zimmerman hadn't figured out the holographic display? After the thought settled in, he turned to his XO.
"Mark, as much of a pain in our collective asses as he is, the man's a genius. And to be honest, I don't think he's really that bad on the inside. Just gotta get him out of there. Sorta like me in 6th grade, if you'll recall."
"That I do. Still, he is giving us a bit of trouble."
"That may be so, but...we'll probably come out of this all the better. At the worst, with some new holoemitters and a computer upgrade. Could be a lot worse, man. Tell Kyvaune I want the detail assigned to the holoemitter refit to cooperate entirely with Doctor Zimmerman". Lieutenant Commander Parker was visibly a little taken off guard by the order, but still complied.
"Aye, sir."
As he sat in his chair, pondering the day ahead, Arachnidus wondered what he could learn- and how thankful the crew would be once Zimmerman was gone. He felt sympathy for the man, because he knew why his crew would be annoyed. Zimmerman was temperamental, arrogant and so stubborn that not even death could get rid of him. But he was still a man, and the benefit of the doubt, in light of all the good he'd done, was something the captain could spare.
Very well General Honda rely the signal to my Ready Room Terminal then take the escort vessels back to port
and await further instructions.
Ancient untranslated tongue <Lord this isent another Omege is it?>
<No Loyal Vassel, We are in the Federation services now not the IJN>
Computer Seal Ships Comm until further command; Relay message and authenticate
<Working.. Signal is from SB 39. ADM ?/]
Command Code Tinaka SB Shinkoku..
<Access Granted>
Audio only [using command codes from SB 39]
Hello stranger divert your ship to meet a shuttle in the KAzon Expanse,, [click]
Computer attempt to bounce signal of the Tal Sh'r relay..
<working>
Computer cross index with Vulcan Science Academy.. Level Red MAtter Authorization VA Planetary Survival level.
<Access Granted...Triangulating locator becon...ID verified...name [secret] >
Pushing swinging retro display arm back..
HELM this is the Admiral.. Gravitate the Rotary Drive.. WARP 11.
Ships Captain to my Ready room on the Admirals Wing.
<swoosh> Salute Admiral you wish something?
I do order a diplomatic reception in Ten Forward with issue of type 1 phasers.. We i believe have a "special" guest to meet. One you may well remember.. set your Phasers to stun.. and Ready Security for inspection in 15 minutes. Dismissed.
Of Course Admiral.
Watching the ships operations progress from the bridge cam.. The Admiral went to the Ready Room Container and locked access hatch and changed.
Admiral ,3 hours out.. Orders?
Scan for Taejon imminence
Signal Contact Shuttle on long range system. Speed warp 5 bearting 210 degrees high.
Tactical Train weapons on them and signal.. repair tractor beam to shuttle bay and erect a force field stasis field.
?Admiral..
DO IT!
Walking onto the Bridge
Admiral on the Bridge Orders?
Team with me to meet our guest. take you weapons out left palm show me the settings.. Good
This is a direct order. Disregard anything our guest says and treat him like hes an Undine.. Jam his shuttles COM now.. and follow me.
Aye AYE!
Smiling the Welcoming Committee procedures to the secure quarantine Shuttle bay docking clamps 2.
Cheif Ready to flood the area with Anzine gas the second anything strange happens
With pleasure Admiral.
The Shuttle hatch <swooshes open>
A Crew Buzz cut male in a Black jacket emergess with an angry look and phaser..
Put that thing down and step over here "DEar Friend"
Greetings Captain Drake oh what an unwarranted surprise or please it is to see you again..
What degree of peril do you wish to subjugate my worthy vessel to this time.
You by chance can prove your are not an Undine? Not <wink Adm Zelles Brother?>
Chep Magosh is a young doctor. His Starfleet record is a kilometer long and is filled with a mixed bag of disciplinary actions and recommendations. He had been promoted and demoted so many times that I was hesitant, at first, to bring him onboard. My overall impression of his service record was that he speaks his mind too frequently which often lands him into trouble. But, his skill and ability in his chosen profession is unparalleled. What I find the most interesting, though, is how exactly he managed to reach the rank of Commander, despite having spent more time as a Lieutenant than me and my bridge crew has spent in Starfleet combined.
When he came aboard the USS Tobarrus, I personally went down to the transporter room with Drem, my chief medical officer, to meet this notorious little man. Despite the fact that he was Tellarite, I expected more as the small unimposing man beamed aboard. Knowing his reputation, I braced myself for a traditional Tellarite greeting. But, it never came. Chep Magosh was polite and courteous. He stepped off the transporter pad, approached us, and offered me his hand. He was exactly what youd expect from a Command-level officer in Starfleet.
I just looked at him, stunned. This wasnt the same officer I had read about. There must have been a mistake. Drem jabbed an elbow into my side. It broke me of my trance. I took his hand and introduced myself. I accompanied Drem and Dr. Magosh to sickbay. I silently observed the new addition to my crew with skepticism. They spoke of various surgical techniques, new drug treatments, and other things that were well beyond my pay grade as a Tactical officer and Captain.
We entered sick bay. I stood at the door as they went inside. Drem gave Dr. Magosh the 10 cent tour of our tiny sickbay. Coming from a cruiser and its spacious interiors, surely the size of our sickbay would be enough to get a reaction from him. However, it did not. In fact, he complimented Drem for using the available space so expertly.
What in the name of To?
I excused myself and left sickbay to consider what to do next.
...
In my ready room, I was going over Chep Magoshs file once again. His last demotion was 8 years ago for a diplomatic incident he caused during first contact with the Malkonians. The report of the incident described him as picking and eating a Bokta fruit from the sacred courtyard outside the Malkonian Capital. Command was ready to kick him from the service, but Captain Lynya Taran had stepped in and saved his career. As a consequence for his actions, Chep had been ordered to escort Ambassador MarRela of Vulcan to a conference on Babel. The next several reports in his file detailed his activities en route, during and immediately after the conference, and included an account from Ambassador MarRela.
My communicator chimed, interrupting my research. Rubbing my eyes with one hand, I tapped the communicator with the other. It was Drem. She notified me that there had been an incident in sickbay. I rose from my chair and started the short trip to the door as she explained the situation. My pace quickened as I reached the turbolift and directed it to sickbay.
Dr. Magosh had made a dire mistake that nearly resulted in the death of a crewman. The crewman had come into sickbay with plasma burns from a faulty relay he had been replacing. Dr. Magosh had volunteered to treat the patient. According to Drem, the standard treatment protocol for plasma burns was Hexatriol, which Chep had followed precisely. The problem arose from his lack of familiarity with our crew, because this particular patient was allergic to hexatriol.
The crewman immediately went into anaphylactic shock and had stopped breathing. Before Drem could leave her office to find out what had happened, Chep was on top of the situation. He began asking all of the correct questions to determine what exactly went wrong. When he realized that he had administered the incorrect medication to this particular patient, he grabbed a hypospray, filled it with stenophyl, and handed it to Drem.
I stepped out of the turbolift and hurried down the hall to sickbay. I entered and searched the biobeds for any signs of life. Drem and Dr. Magosh were on either side of a biobed with a seemingly healthy engineer sitting up in bed. Drem was running a dermal regenerator over the remnants of the plasma burn. I approached the crewman, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and asked how he was doing. The crewman smiled and replied that he was feeling much better now.
I turned to Drem and asked to have a word with her. She nodded, handed Dr. Magosh the dermal regenerator and led me into her office. I closed the door behind me and asked for a detailed report. Fully aware of the transparent walls in the office, I made sure that my actions didnt reveal how upset I was to hear about this little incident so soon after his arrival. I argued that he was a hazard to the crew and demanded that he be put off the ship immediately.
It was a look I have seen many times, and I instantly recoiled away from her. I knew there was no arguing with her. She said it was an honest mistake, and that if anyone was responsible, she was. I didnt like it one bit, but I knew better than to argue with her when it came to her domain onboard the USS Tobarrus.
We left her office. Drem returned to the injured crewman as I made my way to the door. At the threshold, I stopped, turned around, and ordered Dr. Magosh to take the rest of the day off. Drem was about to object, when I shot her a gaze of my own. She took the dermal regenerator from Dr. Magosh, and told him to go ahead, but to report back first thing in the morning for his duty shift. I turned and walked out of sickbay without another word.
A few hours later, I was on the bridge. The USS Tobarrus was en route to a system deep within the Khazan Cluster. My science officer, Stobomoe, detected unusual radiation being emitted by a pulsar two light years off our present course. I ordered the ship to investigate the radiation readings. Stobomoe recommended that we stay at least half a light year away from the pulsar to avoid feeling any of its detrimental effects.
Stobomoe began his analysis of the radiation readings. I rubbed my temples as the first flashes of a migrane blurred my vision. Shaking my head, I pushed it to the back of my mind. I approached my science officer.
Fausto, my engineer, suddenly grasped his head in his hands and cried out in agony. Like a demolished building collapsing under the force of gravity, he slid out of his chair and onto the floor. I rushed over, crouched down beside him, and saw his face warp into a horrible mask of pain. I called down to Drem in sickbay and notified her that Fausto had collapsed. She was being overwhelmed with crewmen complaining of headaches, nausea, and in a few cases of unconsciousness, and she too was starting to feel its effects. Audria came over and helped me get Fausto to his feet. His legs were made of rubber. He leaned on her as they slowly made their way to sickbay.
Other members of my bridge crew began collapsing, including Stobomoe. It was getting difficult to concentrate. I took the helm and set a course out of the system at full impulse. It was getting more difficult to focus. My vision was starting to go dark. I forced myself out of the chair and made my way to the turbolift. I needed to get to sickbay.
The turbolift doors opened on deck 3. I stepped out and immediately saw a dozen crewmen lying on the floor unconscious, including Fausto and Audria. They had not made it to their destination. I stumbled. I clawed at the wall to get back on my feet and used it to support me as I made my way down the hallway as it stretched for hundreds of meters. When I finally made it to the sickbay, the door opened and I stepped inside.
Suddenly, I was falling through space as I lost consciousness.
I was aware of sounds going on all around me. I was regaining consciousness. I opened my eyes and cried out when I saw Chep Magoshs ugly mug only inches from my face. He kept repeating my name. Suddenly, the ship, the pulsar, and the radiation rushed back into my consciousness. I sat up.
Chep placed a hand on my shoulder and said that everything is fine now. I should take it easy for a bit. He continued to explain that he had been in the mess hall when a few people started getting sick. He helped them to sick bay, only to discover that Drem had also been afflicted with whatever was going on. Soon, more and more people started showing up with the same symptoms.
He wasnt totally immune to the pulsars effects. With so many coming down with the condition, he knew the ship was in trouble. He made his way to the bridge to discover the ships fate. Fallen crewmen were everywhere. He moved around them carefully to make sure that he did not further injure anyone. Once on the bridge, he checked the sensors and determined that the ship was heading in the wrong direction. It was moving towards the pulsar. At the helm, he plotted a course out of the system at high warp. He kept the ship on course. 1 light year 2 3, 4, 5; they were now far enough away that the pulsars unusual radiation was no longer affecting them. He brought the ship to a stop and began rousing the crew.
If it werent for the heroics of Dr. Chep Magosh, I dont know where we would be right now. Therefore, I am adding the record of this event to Dr. Chep Magoshs record with the hopes that Starfleet will get that man off of my ship and give him one of his own.
...The pilot was only 5 metres in front of him at the main control, wired into his command chair via organic tubules. He could see the tripedal creature through a crack in the console he had climbed under. It was sitting awkwardly in a massive chair, or at the least a biomass moulded into the shape of a chair. The entire ship was alive, although not sentient; at least Tanar hoped so.
...The Cardassian who had spent most of his life in Starfleet had been captured by the Undine on a visit to his homeland. He had spent countless days in a holding cell before he had managed to escape the biodome by finding this ship, docked in what he assumed was a hanger bay, although garden would have been a more accurate description. He had tried to figure out how to operate the very alien controls when the huge Undine scuttled in. He had only just managed to dive under a crack in the ships wall, and land in something soft and sticky as the creature entered the chamber. He did not want to think what it was that he now sat in.
...At least half an hour had passed as the pilot had gone through what he assumed was a series of pre-ignition checks. Strange noises could be heard coming from inside the ship; a language from a com-link or ship functions? he could not tell. Finally the ship had rumbled into activity and had left the dome into fluidic space.
...Tanar knew he had act soon, although he had never flown anything as alien as a bio ship. Even if he could incapacitate the pilot he would have no way of creating a rift back into normal space, or even what part of his galaxy he would end up in. The Undine appeared to be able to cross vast areas of the galaxy from the Alpha quadrant, all the way to the Delta quadrant via fluidic space. One wrong move and he would find himself stranded a hundred years from home.
...Suddenly the ship shuddered. Tanar was unprepared for the jolt and was flung back into a cluster of pipes and tubes. The vessel shook again. It felt like they had hit some turbulence. A bioship rocked a third time, causing Tanar to hit his head. He cried out in pain for a split second. He instantly knew his mistake as the aliens head snapped back to look at his position. He had to move.
...Rolling from underneath the console, he sprang to his feet and threw himself at the still seated Undine. The flight threw the air seemed to take forever, as if time had slowed down. It gave him the opportunity to see a massive claw sweeping him away from his target. He crashed into a side console. A shower of sparks, and goo greeted him as he slunk down to the floor. The goo burned his skin and he tried to wipe it away as it seared at his flesh. He saw the huge alien standing above him, ready to strike. It all went blank.
continued next post.
...He opened his eyes gingerly, the bright light burned at him. Where am I? he thought to himself, his senses still dazed, pain rippling through his body.
...Hes awake, Captain. came the sound of a female voice to his right. He tried opening his eyes again, shielding them with his hand from the white light all around him. Well she does not sound Undine, he thought.
...I did not expect to find you here. came a strangely familiar voice. He looked towards the man and squinted as he sight returned to normal. He was short, dark skinned with a full beard. Not a very attractive man either. In fact not even a man. The voice was that of a Tellarite. His eyes focused more on the Federation captain. As the sharpness returned he let out a groan.
...Oh no, send me back to the Undine Ill take my chances there. he said bluntly.
...Ha, ha. Tanar you always knew how to say the most charming things. replied Captain Grak , with a certain edge in his voice.
...I learned it from you. Still a captain I see? snapped Tanar, pointing at his admiral pips.
...I like being a captain, keeps me on the front lines, unlike you desk huggers. He retorted.
...Good, Ill recommend you stay on the front lines, He sat up and looked around the sickbay. What happened?
...We had been sent into fluidic space to keep an eye on the Undine. We have been equipped with the latest sensors, they are far more effective against the Undine than anything your would have scene. said the Tellarites, grinning from ear to ear. He took great pleasure in gaining any advantage over his former captain. They had served together on the USS London, until Tanar had promoted him to Captain, if not for his excellent command ability but to get his off his ship. Shortly after Tanar was promoted to rear admiral and too left the London. He knew Grak wanted the captains chair of the London and the change in ships had annoyed him. His annoyance only further compounded when he found Tanar had left as well. Tanar suspected that Grak blamed him for the transfer, thinking that he knew about his leaving the London and only promoted Grak to captain early to stop him from getting that chair out of spite.
Then again it would not have been the first grudge he had held onto. Tellarites are confrontational by nature, and enjoy insults and aggressive behaviour in any conversation at any time of the day. Most none Tellarites find them annoying and rude. Tanar was not like most none Tellarites however, instead he found them very annoying and very rude. Perhaps it was his Cardassian upbringing of order and respect, discipline above all else.
...Grak continued. We detected a cardassian life sign coming from a bioship. We went to investigate, got into a little fire fight but we managed to beam onto their ship.
...I thought that was impossible. he interrupted.
...The captain snorted. Maybe for you perhaps. Technology has rolled on since you were last were out on the frontier. Tanar sighed and shook the cobwebs from his aching head.
...Anyway, the captain continued. when he arrived we found you and an undine standing above you about to rip your head off. We incapacitated the creature and brought you here. You had several nasty wounds and an infection from his DNA. You almost did not make it, but you pulled through. Cant have everything now can we? the Captain genuinely sounded disappointed.
...I guess Im tougher than I look. he said, a faint smile trickled across his face that his continued living was a source of great annoyance to the little creature.
...Or luckier. The venom in his voice almost tangible. We had a former drone on our ship. His nano probes cured you.
...Tanar rose to his feet carefully, and rotated the stiffness out of his neck. Where is the Relentless now?
...The Relentless? replied Grak puzzled.
...My ship, he answered. Not every admiral hugs a desk, captain. I was captured by the Undine but I managed to escape from their prison. Thats why I was on one of their ships. As to why they captured me I can only conclude it was to replace me.
...Hmmm, there is no telling what damage an Undine could do impersonating you. Grak to bridge. barked the Captain.
...Johansson here, go ahead sir. The voice carried in the air.
...Locate the USS Relentless.
...Aye sir, replied the voice. There was silence for a few moments before the voice sounded again. She is twelve light-years from our current position.
...Good, set a course, maximum warp.
...Aye sir. The com linked chirped as it closed.
...He turned his attention back to Tanar. We need to warn your crew.
...And tip our hand? No, we should hold off. It pained him to not let his crew know the risk but it was too dangerous. Those people were his family, all he had left. He would not risk their safety.
...Youre worried about them, I understand that but they need to know what they have on their ship. he argued.
...If he has infiltrated them then they are in no immediate danger. As long as he does not know Im free we have the time. A remember of the Undine could kill half the crew. There is no way to get a message to them without running the risk that it will find out first.
...Admiral if you want my advice- began the Tellarite.
...I dont he shouted, causing several nurses to stop what they were doing and stare at him. He could not help himself, when ever he approached Grak he found his anger bubbling over. He was hungry, tired and now had a combination of Undine DNA and borg nanoprobes circling around his system. Stay on course and maintain com silence. Do you have any quarters for me? he asked regaining his composure.
...Grak studied him for a moment before answering. Yes, deck 10, section 3.
...Thank you. He said quietly almost as he was out of the sickbay door.
...Oh Admiral its good to see you again. said the Captain loudly, a sardonic simile crossing his lips. Tanar just shrugged and strolled out. Was it a game to him? Was it his Tellarites upbringing? Tanar could not work out what it was exactly that grated at his nerves so much?
...As his number one, onboard the London, he had challenged every decision he ever made, sometimes even in front of the crew. Tanar had tolerated it because of the social differences at first, but even so social upbringing plays second to the chain of command. When Tanar had told him not to question his orders in front of the crew, Grak launched into a tirade of how he was putting his feelings in the way of the crews safety. On Tellarite ships, opinions are expressed openly, bluntly and at length. This openness had made him a fine captain, if a little quick to anger. Somewhere deep inside, in a place of his soul that he pretended did not exist, Tanar respected his passion but he was a creature of habit and discipline. Grak borderline insubordination at times was almost maddening for his ordered and structured Cardassian mind to bear.
...Not one to back down to any confrontation Tanar had made clear that he was not to question his orders again or find his backside floating home to Tellar Prime. Grak appeared to enjoy the argument, but eventually backed down. Only know he would continue to argue with him at every opportunity behind closed doors, often more passionately than before now he had lost his say on the bridge. Tanar tried to let it go. He did not have the energy to worry about Grak any longer.
...The Admiral made his way to his quarters and immediately requested a glass of water from the replicator; the first drink in days. He lay down on the unbelievable soft bed and fell asleep. He would need it.
Transcript
Starfleet Administrative Channel 21.2
Stardate 88218.9
<Begin Transmission>
====================
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Sovereign Trust, how may I direct your call?
U.S.S. Serapis: Admiral Varzec, please.
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: And who may I say is calling?
U.S.S. Serapis: This is O'Ryon of the Serapis.
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: I'm sorry, the Admiral is indisposed, can I take a message for him?
U.S.S. Serapis: Wait, why didn't you say so when I asked for him? Why did you want my name first?
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: It's our policy, Mr. O'Ryon. Would you like to leave a message?
U.S.S. Serapis: That's *Captain,* no -- *Admiral,* no -- *Federation Envoy* O'Ryon. Look, this is an urgent matter concerning a Trust Fleet officer. It may be a life-or-death situation!
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Captain...Admiral...Envoy...Urgent...Officer...Death...
U.S.S. Serapis: Aren't you going to get Admiral Varzec for me?
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: I'm sorry, Captain Admiral Envoy, he's indisposed.
U.S.S. Serapis: Aren't you listening? This is a potentially deadly situation!
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Oh my yes, it sounds terribly important, so I am writing the message in big letters with a fat pen.
U.S.S. Serapis: A fat pen? Are you kidding me? I want to speak to your superior officer!
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Of course, Captain Admiral Envoy, I'll patch you through to my Commanding Officer, Fleet Admiral Varzec.
U.S.S. Serapis: Finally! Thank you!
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Ooooh, I'm sorry Captain Admiral Envoy, Fleet Admiral Varzec is indisposed. Would you like to leave a message?
U.S.S. Serapis: Just... just... tell Admiral Varzec to contact Lieutenant Sepeni on Earth Space Dock, Medlab, OK? Urgent. Possible life-or-death issue.
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Call...Captain...Admiral...Envoy...Lieutenant...Sabrini...DeadLab...OK...life... issue...anything else?
U.S.S. Serapis: No, no that's it.
U.S.S. Sovereign Trust: Thank you for calling the Sovereign Trust, goodbye!
====================
<End Transmission>
"Captain...I have bad news." Commander Cherly said as she entered my quarters.
"What? What is it?" I asked, annoyed as I looked up from my PADD as I attempted to write a mission report about our recent shenanig-mission with Q rescuing the USS Copernicus.
"Ah...it's the Old Spice Guy, sir. He's been replaced."
"With who?" I asked, slightly annoyed.
"This guy, sir. His name's Fabio." She said, holding out a PADD. I watched it for three seconds and nearly hurled it at my nice display cases, despite the fact it was empty.
"And exactly what does Mr. Fabio have to do with our ship!?" I asked through gritted teeth.
"He's being assigned here...sir." She said hesitantly. My head immediately hit my desk.
"You have got to be kidding me." I muttered into my desk. "This is a joke, right?"
"No, sir. We decoded the message twice, sir." She said to me.
Taking a deep breath as I sat back up again, I turned to the simulated window in my room and rubbed my temples as I stared out into space. "Commander?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"Does the rest of the ship know about this yet?" I ask.
"Yes, Captain. Security has managed to keep things under control so far, but I fear that this might cause a split amongst the crew."
"A split, Commander?"
"Yes, sir. We ah...apparently have a few fans of the new Old Spice guy onboard."
"And the other side?"
"Most of the crew prefer the Old Old Spice Guy, sir."
I rubbed my temples. "Alright. From now on, no alcohol on board until I can sort this mess out with Starfleet. I swear, this must be revenge from that Admiral whose office I screwed with." I muttered.
"You screwed with an Admiral's office, sir?" The commander asked, tilting her head. "Why?"
"I was a captain before I was a captain. My idiot helmsman was the son of an Admiral, and after he crashed the ship into ESD despite orders to stop the ship at a safe distance, he ran to his father who blamed me and had me demoted. Thankfully, nobody was hurt."
"That sucks."
"Yes, yes it did - so I got even. Since he shot down my formal protests before they even left my desk, I uh...tweaked his computers a bit. The long and the short of it was that I changed the sensors in his office so it didn't recognize him as the Admiral, and then had the holo emitters make him think there were shape-shifters in his office." I said, smiling evilly.
"And then what happened?"
"He got locked in his office overnight and the next morning he thought anyone and everyone was a shapeshifter. Even had him thinking HE was a shapeshifter. Serves him right." I said defiantly.
"Captain! That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" She chastised.
I shook my head. "Hell no. I found a mound full of other dirt on him doing other things. As far as I'm concerned, Starfleet doesn't need Admirals like him with all of the hostilities going on, nor do we need an officer who relies solely on somebody else's power to achieve their means. It might've been a bit mean, but at least we don't have a moron in charge of a starship."
"Captain, the USS Thunderhead just arrived in system. Captain Sutherland's hailing us."
My head hit the desk a second time.
"Problems?"
I nodded in annoyance. "Yeah - that's the ******* that crashed my ship the first time." I tapped my combadge. "This is Captain Rohman to bridge - what does Captain Sutherland want?"
"He's here to deliver the new Old Spice Guy, sir."
I took a deep breath as I tried to contain the irritation within me. "Excuse me." I said politely to my second in command. "You're dismissed."
"Yes, sir." She said, snapping to attention and saluting me before she left.
"Computer - seal door." I said out loud. I heard a beep, signalling that my door was now in fact, locked.
I took two more deep breaths before I picked up my latinum floor trophy and hurled it hard against the door.
On the other side of the door.....
Commander Cheryl had just left the Captain's room when she heard a very loud slamming noise against the door she had just exited.
"Jesus, what the heck did you say to him, Commander?"
She shook her head. "Nothing really important." She dismissed, sighing. It was going to be one of those annoying missions...
Captain Vaihuu e'Hvalli paused, and looked over at her first officer, Commander Adeb. The older Andorian man's antenna curled in slight amusement at his commanding officer's reaction.
"Not much of a surprise if we know she's coming." The dark haired woman said, her voice laden with sarcasm.
"You know how she is."
Captain e'Hvalli let out a sigh, and rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking briefly at the painting of her ship, the USS Starfinder, on the wall behind Adeb.
"That, I do. You know, that woman has made a point to make my life a living hell, and you think she could at least do it right. Any particular reason she's coming?"
Adeb shook his head, and smoothed a blue hand over the white hairs of his goatee to cover up a smile that was playing at his lips.
"Not that I know of. I will caution, you, however, Captain, to keep civil this time when she visits."
"I was civil the last time." Vaihuu said defensively. "I wasn't the one underhandedly accusing someone of being a Tal'Shiar infiltrator. I'm not some little wet-behind-the-ears officer anymore. If she's going to take jabs at me, she better get used to me swinging back."
"Well, I'd prefer it if you kept your commission. Not that I wouldn't mind commanding this beacon of our science fleet, but I would miss your company."
Vaihuu took a deep breath, and smiled ruefully at her friend. "Fair enough. I will do my best.
"She's probably coming to just lecture me again about the Prime Directive, and question my loyalty as always. As if she can't accomplish these things over subspace, she has to go out of her way to do it face-to-face. I mean, what does she do, just roll out of bed and think, 'I need some time in the field. I know, I'll annoy Captain e'Hvalli for a few days. That sounds like fun.' I have a feeling, she is going to want Plomeek soup for dinner, too. You know how well Plomeek soup and dress whites go together. Just something else for her to criticize.
"That woman was the only one that opposed my entry into Starfleet, and since my commission she has nosed into every aspect of my life. Thanks to her, I can't eat dinner with a friend without a Section 31 operative snooping in a corner, or trying to look inconspicuous at a nearby table. Just because I am half Romulan doesn't automatically make me some spy. I've also gone to great lengths to be an upstanding Starfleet officer, she can at least give me that respect.
"And that whole nonsense over Alhahir...." Her voice trailed off, and she looked over at the window and the stars as they whizzed by.
"I know. You've said this before. In her defense, you were a Romulan naval officer before this, you did bypass Starfleet Academy, and you did try to kill Empress Sela. Being wanted by the Romulan government might make me a little suspicious, too. Especially with all the trouble lately."
Vaihuu's neck muscles tensed. "Don't take her side," she said with irritation. "I may have been an Imperial Naval officer, but my loyalties were pretty clear, and they have been ever since. And who hasn't tried to kill Empress Sela?"
The young woman turned away from the window, her thin lips pursed together.
Adeb stood for a moment, another sarcastic comment at the tip of his tongue, but looking over at Captain e'Hvalli's demeanor, he decided not to take any more jabs at her.
"I'm sure it will be nothing. Just take a deep breath and get through it."
The Orion rose to her feet, towering over the small, redhaired Ocampan woman and moved from the bench where she sat previously, and leaned against the doorway of the holding cell aboard the IKS chonnaQ. The emitters hummed in her ears, and the electromagnetic field tickled her face.
"Your heart has been filled with J'mpok's cowardice, and the lies of those Dishonored Warriors that stand with him in that decaying Empire that you so covet.
"Look around. This system has enough dilithium in it to last us nearly sixty years, even with the war on. It's within a feasible shipping distance to the Empire, and the planet is occupied by a species whose technology four hundred years inferior to ours. It's time to think of ourselves.
"We can manipulate them. Convince them to work, and even fight for us. They are hearty, motivated souls as you can tell--"
Hara held up her gloved hand, shooting Jane an icy glare.
"This planet is within Federation territory, and even though they are not a member world, Federation ships do still patrol in this sector. You fired on two of their vessels to get your prize; one of them a flagship! You can bet Starfleet will be sending more ships, and what then? You and I both know the Empire can't afford another long, bloody battle." Hara growled.
"For the adopted daughter of one of the most highly regarded Nausicaan generals in the KDF's history, you sure are a disappointment. I guess that's why Efrain preferred me over you...sister."
A sneer stretched across Jane's lips.
"You and I both know he would not have his legacy, nor you your precious commission without me. How are you liking those new cannons, anyway...General? Did you bother to take the Cardassian naval emblems off yet? Or those pretty new Federation consoles that adorn your bridge? Or how about those cases of Kali-fal in your cargo bay?"
A low growl escaped Hara's lips, and she hit the keypad next to the holding cell, dropping the forcefield. In the blink of an eye, Hara advanced on the demure Orion and landed a hard blow across her face, sending her to a knee. Hara grabbed Jane's neck in her hand and squeezed hard, watching the Orion's face turn dark green.
"You are a snake, just like your former Romulan benefactors." Hara hissed harshly. She released her grip slightly to allow Jane some air, before tightening her fingers again.
Captain Nori coughed and then smiled, and Hara felt a rush of anger as she searched Jane's mind and only came away with a smug arrogance.
"Don't think for a second that the sham of an 'empire' that you claim to have protects you from anything. You and I both know that your army of crooks wouldn't hesitate to put a blade through that pretty chest of yours if they had enough reason. The fact that you are an adopted daughter of Efrain Tal, is the only thing keeping you alive. Never forget that. Perhaps that is a failing of mine, but you and I both know how important it is that the House remain together.
"You will return to your ship, and depart this system immediately, or I will risk everything and throw you out an airlock. Or worse...hand you over to the Feds and let them deal with you."
Hara released her grasp and backed away slowly, not taking her eyes off of Captain Nori.
Jane slowly rose to her feet, gasping. She brought a hand to her neck and rubbed where Hara had squeezed her, and coughed. Turning her dark eyes to the younger woman, she smiled in defiance.
"Kill me, or turn me over to them." Jane said darkly, stepping toward Hara. "I dare you. If you had done your homework like a good ship commander, you would know that the flagship I successfully disabled before you arrived is the USS Stellar Drift. I'm sure my...former Romulan benefactor--" Jane laughed "--will be happy to see me."
The ship's intercom blared off the duranium walls of the brig, startling Hara for a split second.
"General, sensors are picking up additional Federation starships entering the system."
Soon he is disturbed by the rudest of interruptions. He hears a sharp energetic whoosh & a flash of light sparks inside the aquarium.
Supplemental: a small man wearing the robes of a 22nd century arbiter is... *sigh* ...boxing with my rigellian eel.
nIb'poH.
Droid: Q jr.? Not again!
Q jr. retorts in a mock Irish accent.
Q jr: Dearest Aindreas, me old chum; I t'o't I've told ya's never to call me that. I t'ink jus' plain ol' Q will quite suffice.
Oh cork it, I've told you the same just right; "Aindreas" died when he gave himself willingly to the borg.
Q interjects, back to his dynamically pronounced yet indifferent voice.
Oh that spittle again for such a stand out mortal, you really can be drearily repetitive.
*Did Q just compliment me?* Droid thinks to himself & shudders, reactively attempting to shake off the layer of Q mush.
I heard that all knowing, remember? AnyQ, its all fine & dandy. Arent you the least bit curious about the pertinence of my visit?
No not really, business as usual I would surmise; & Ive never been one of your satisfied customers.
You wound me, good doctor.
Your record is resoundingly clear, as was your fathers; up until the end, that is.
Oh yes of course, how could anyone forget? The ol' man went soft! He knew what was coming his way & simply resigned to his...
Q lays a left hook on the eels mid-mandibles.
...FATE!
Soon it realizes snapping at the interloper wont cut the yamok, so it begins whipping at him with its tails.
Blasted brute; let the poor creature alone & pick on something your own size!
Size, mon amiral? You know nothing of the natural size of my being. If you did then it might put a little perspective on things, & you would cower in paralyzing fear as you well should.
If youre mass is anywhere near as big as your ego then
But! Q interrupts.
I dont want your people to worship me, that would be too easy no my true divine wrath is reserved for lower life forms; or those that trifle with the Q. No, I dont want your blind servitude; au contraire what I crave is your respect for my talents!
Talents? Droid scoffs.
Yes, of course; & why not? I can really raise a few eyebrows around the federation. Why, I can play a better human than the best of them! Yet still your curiosity is most curious. We that is to say, I do love watching you get yourselves into trouble. We really dont need to interfere much.
I dont have time to listen to someone ramble on about something everyone knows! Now why dont you get out of the tank & pick on something sentient!
You sound like someone I've dealt with before oh fine then. You humanoids really know how to make a big deal out of the tiniest trivial things. If only a klingon could even survive a battle of wits with the likes of me, I'd derive much more entertainment dwelling around in their faction. I tell you If some of our ranks had anything to say about the matter, so-called sentient bipeds wouldnt even exist!
The eel zaps Q, who was caught off guard.
Why you desperate little meal!
Bubbles fly from his mouth as Q raises a clawed hand at it; just as his fingers begin to flicker, Droid shouts at him.
Just dont! Like everything else you do, theres no damned point!
Alright alright you've made your case, Ive got bigger eels to fry. As for you! You can bet Ill be back for a rematch, you nasty little critter.
Q flashes himself out of the tank, but he is still soaked & dripping all over the floor.
Whoopsie daisy!
He throws his upturned palms to his sides, & with yet another flash all the water flies off of him in an outward flurry; splattering Droid. He wipes his good eye
Yes, very amusing... I know you can't actually get wet. How
& dries the implanted one more carefully with a rag.
would you like it if I were an omnipotent entity & you were just a mere mortal trying to go about your business amidst my constant distractions? Oh sure you would only be slightly unnerved at first, & try to shoo me away & pretend not to be adhered hoping Ill lose interest but eventually you might teeter on the brink of insanity like Im about to be! Of all the irrefutable annoyances in the galaxy you have got to be the most..
Q raises a finger.
Im going to have to stop you right there
Which he does, freezing Droid in place.
You pose a very interesting question Droid; do I detect, a hint of dare in your voice? What say we put your little scenario to a test! Droid? Droid? Yoohoo?
Q snaps his fingers at Droid, interminably stiff, his jaw dangling open. Even still, he remains ostensibly enraged, melting the ice with his rising body temperature & screaming from out his eyes.
Oh *chuckles* this just wont do will it? A change of scenery should do the trick, somewhere a bit more
Q glares menacingly, the spitting image of his paternal creator.
stimulating.
He cracks the trademark sinister smirk, & snaps his copyrighted fingers.
*
Q ports them into the counselors office. Dedade turns around, startled. Just as shes about to let out a quip, Q, abusing his power as usual, freezes her in place. Q transforms himself into her image.
How dare you you omnipotent prepubescent miscreant! I demand that you cut out this nonsense!
Or what? Youll call my daddy? I'll have you know that according to your precious "linear" calendar, I'm 36 earth years old. 36,000 if you count the years I spent in limbo while the other Q deliberated on whether or not to destroy me, my parents & erase their entire histories.
I should have tried to already, but I don't exactly have a Q-signal mounted on the hull. Besides, youd probably just take my mouth or block my thoughts or even rewind time to stop me, so True Q wasn't even an option I was considering.
Very true... wait a millennia; "True Q?" Is that what your meek little mind has conjured up? I'm sure even in his current state he'd be mortified with your pet name; might as well be a dolphin under the leash of a targ. I suppose I can change back to my normal self but I have an appreciation for...
Once again he cranes his head at her, cocking it to the side as if he were an art museum curator inspecting a new arrival. Droid places himself between them.
...authenticity. I could just wake her up, but wheres the fun in that?
Droid replicates a blanket & walks over to her & tosses it over the ice cube that is now his ships counselor. Q then promptly makes it vanish.
Why the games? Make it right or we have nothing further to discuss!
Oh so you are willing to have a little chat? What's it worth to you?
Droid glares.
Oh don't be like that, it's just some same ol' same ol' primitive physical form, nothing I haven't been before. I have been them all, you know. Dont worry, the blanket is still there, it's just hidden; go on, feel for yourself
Droid then made a severe mistake: he trusted Q, quite on accident, as he reached for the supposed "invisible cloth." Indeed the trickster had lied, the blanket was no longer there, & he unfroze her at an inopportune moment where Droids hand was outstretched at level with Dedades midriff.
Dedade: Cap... Adm... Doc... Sir! How did I Ooh!
She lays a rather steamy slap upon his cheek.
I never imagined
Counselor, if youll please have a look over there!
What? I dont see anything
She cant see me...
He scoffs, covering his mouth with a stiff palm.
...how embarrassing for you!
Please I meant no disrespect, Ill explain later. Right now I suggest you just replicate a dry uniform & head to the bridge.
Still shivering, she wastes no time bolting to the replicator.
Hey, can't you just rattle around inside my melon to see that I'm telling the truth?
No, in fact I can't... I'm too furious!
Well, on to real universe events: Im expecting a hail from Lt. Karbo, & I dont trust those jittery ears I want you to make sure he gives us all the details.
To think you call yourself a doctor
Dismissed, counselor.
Yes sir
As she walks out the door Q remarks about how uncomfortable that situation must have been.
Droid replies I dont know why shes so suspicious of me... Im a professional. Why I even make it a point to perform the physicals on each of my senior officers, even the unusual suspects like the Breen, the Reman & the Gorn; oh that wasnt my strongest moment let me tell you, there is a distinct, pungent odor when it comes to
Q snaps his repro fingers.
Attencion! You are boring me once again; there are more important matters at hand! Now that were alone, lets talk about your challenge.
He blinks into the chair, places a pair of spectacles on his brim & brings up a clipboard.
Well dont just stand around; weve a lot of ground to cover in this session. Have a seat!
Not now Q, Im on an important mission in the BTran cluster Blast it all Q, lives are at stake!
Oh youll be back in time, I promise.
Q flashes him into the sofa.
Promises from you? Bah, no good, not in my book.
Well well just have to add a few chapters, or hire a new editor. I volunteer!
Enough, already get on with it.
Now thats more like it! Youre gonna love this were going to play a little role reversal.
Why dont you just zap yourself into an alternate reality where Im interested in wasting time with your shenanigans!
Oh trust me Ive peeked. There arent any You mortals are very brash when it comes to judging other species, especially we Q.
I would prefer to continue this in my own office.
To boldly go on...
Oh dont be so pretentious, its all in the name of good fun! What no one knows is that dear dad was instructed to give those powers to Jean-Luc. But as usual, he had his own agenda.
...& youre calling me pretentious?
Youre calling yourself a self respecting officer? I know what you think when you look in the mirror every morning & see those implants. I know that you think you should be dead, thats why you wont acknowledge your past. And most of all I know that after all youve been through, you are the perfect subject to be put through this test. Ill watch your precious little ship while youre gone, no one will ever know the difference!
Im not going anywhere, my personal desires are light years away, duty comes first.
Well see the trial continues.
Q nonchalantly raises his hands & claps them twice by his head, & for once, without so much as even a flash, the deed is done.
Q What have you
Call me Droid, or better yet call me vice admiral; youre the Q now.
A sensation of dread fills in the void of Droids depression, & his bowels seemed twist in agony. He bends over as if about to hurl.
The feeling will pass, its purely psychosomatic, you see: you dont even have a stomach to feel sick anymore. Your appearance is now merely the residual image you are so hopelessly clinging to. You could be anything, do anything; you could go & meddle with time as you please, save your sister, wipe the borg from existence
Droid flattens Q on his back with a savage elbow.
Ah, a physical blow
Q wipes the blood from his lip.
you have a flair for nostalgia, dear Q, though now you are capable of so much more, you still like to get your hands dirty like some impulsive primate.
Why didnt you stop me? You just stood there & took it like a
Like a man? Well I thought you would have grasped that by now; thats exactly what I am: powerless. All of my being is now yours, & I can't say I miss it.
Change me back!
He wraps his hands around Qs collar & forces him against the wall.
Easy on the goods, supreme being you are, remember?
I said make it right!
Oh that is no longer within my range of abilities, its now up to you what will be done with this burden. The universe is your playground, I am completely at your mercy. If you truly dont want it then give it back, or bestow it on someone you deem more worthy.
Droid slowly releases him, suddenly acting cautiously as though everything surrounding him were only a fragile little toy. The frightening aspect of the matter was that this was true. Unsure of what consequences might arise based on his new inclinations, he hesitated to attempt to expunge the power of the Q.
The continuum wont let you get away with this. How can they let you just change someones life like this? Its irresponsible on all fronts, how do you know I wont
Abuse your power? Like that's never happened before...
Stop doing that!
What? Speaking your mind? It doesnt matter to the continuum, a Q here, a Q there, its all a matter of balance. We dont just influence reality, were a force of nature, no more so than the borg.
Youre nothing natural, youre nothing more heathen gods
You flatter me but Im no longer superior to you; I thought you of all people would appreciate that. Im simply trying to show you that we have more in common than you think.
Even if that were true, I would go out of my way to correct that little fact; you are despicable beyond all absurdities! You are wicked, youve brought back the borg, & youve ruined everyones lives as you disturb the peace!
He slams his fist on the desk, & with a spark it disintegrates into its base molecular components & flitters away as it floats detractively into the air vents.
Temper, temper little star so like a child you are, up above the world so high, how I wonder when youll touch the sky, & realize the gift Ive given you
Gift? This is little more than a manifestation of the very thing that blackens the hearts of sentient beings. It would instil envy beyond reason, no one life-form should possess power to this extreme. The fact that it even exists is a bane to all realities!
You think youve got it all figured out; always trying to blame the parents. Will the naiveties never cease?
I dont know, will this madness never end?
Madness? You underestimate my goals! This is absolute, undeterrable, & oh-so-glorious chaos!
Youre telling me, I just obliterated my desk!
Droid takes a deep breath, as if it were necessary, & yet still manages to calm himself as he sulks over the dusty pile of shattered memories.
It was a gift, handcrafted by a good friend of Boothbys. When he passed, he left it to me in his will. He didn't have much in the world, but he loved all the students, especially those that took the time to socialize with him.
If you still love your precious material possession, than simply restore it to it's former solidity.
Droid stares precariously at his hands, eying them both scrupulously.
You can do it, you can probably control these powers better than I can. It doesnt take experience, only instinct. You corporeal beings understand want better than any other creatures in the galaxy; if you want something, then simply "make it so "
Droid is too seriously obscured by his woe to laugh at Qs remark, though he finally remembers why it was funny.
Heh. You presume much to assume you are worthy to quote a man who despised your kind more than words could express.
Quit dawdling & just give it a try!
Droid looks at his hand one more time, & outstretches it toward the space where his desk was. After a flicker of tiny lights, a dazzling rainbow of matter begins to stream from the ducts, joining with the pile & slowly but surely, the desk begins to reconstruct itself.
Oh don't be such a baby, pick up the pace already!
Q forcibly clasps Droids palm closed, & the desk becomes fully restored in an instant, but as Droid was distracted he inadvertently sears Qs hand. Q flinches & scuttles off into the corner.
Ah pain I remember you fondly.
You really are insane, Q! What if Id destroyed you? I don't know what I'm capable of!
Youre not "capable" of that level of iniquity, not yet thats why I chose you. Now: a little help here, o mighty healer?
I should enjoy watching you wince however, I took an oath
to do no harm; yes of course you did. That in & of itself may make you a better Q than I could ever be.
Droid, forgoing his continuing impatience with Qs interruptions, holds his truths self evidently & extends his hand over Qs, healing it instantaneously.
Ohh... its a miracle! You truly are blessed & merciful!
Dont push it, Q. I dont know what I might accidentally do to you next time.
Its so soothing; is that eucalyptus?
Its just what I was thinking about; my mom used to want to heal me the old fashioned way, with ointments, so that I would gain a better sense of self preservation through a natural healing process.
How touchingly barbaric
No I loved her for it. Now my scars are all I have left of my family.
A chime comes at the door.
Oh, we have company; I almost forgot that I wasn't holding us outside of space-time anymore. Quickly now, better hide!
Droid stiffens up & attempts, but is unable to vanish.
The theatrics really dont matter, but I find it tasteful to make a little gesture: snap your fingers, click your heels, that sort of thing. It impresses the deity-fearing masses; having been one yourself Id say it will give you the boost of pride you need.
Another chime comes at the door.
& if that doesnt, this will:
COME!
The doors streak open just as Droid snaps his fingers; & the first officer & the ships counselor walk in.
Dedade: Sir, who were you talking to?
No one, I was simply dictating my log.
Apparently it worked; Droid was still in the room & aware of his surroundings, but no one else could see nor hear him as he sat on the corner of his reintegrated desk & let out a huff of relief, & began to chuckle. Catching himself in a moment of glee, he took pause, & now wasnt sure what to think. Q, now impersonating Droid, let out a little smirk as he looked around.
You have something for me, number one?
Droid folded his arms, squinting in disbelief at how quickly Q had assimilated his inflections, & his persona.
V'Buni: Yes sir, weve arrived in Gamma Orionis & the diplomatic envoy is en-route to escort us to the BTran cluster undetected.
Thank you commanders; any particular reason it took two of you to deliver this message?
V'Buni began a statement, but Dedade cut her off, deciding to front this question.
Yes sir, the first officer flagged me over when you didnt answer the door the first time. I was probing for intruders. Im sorry if Ive overstepped my bounds.
Droid, anticipating her next move, somehow figured out how to mask the now mortal & vulnerable Qs thoughts with ease. He covered with enough of his own to be convincing. After she had been fooled, he knew it wasnt her job to read the admiral at all times, & he trusted her not to again for the remainder of the day, that is... as long as Q continued to play a convincing Doctor.
No, not at all, you ought to know me better than that now. I know you only have the best interests of the crew & I in mind, so on behalf of myself & said crew: I thank you for your concern counselor. I was just meticulously wrapped up in this glaring account, but Im finished now; lets return to the bridge, its time we notified the rest of the crew of our mission.
To boldly go on...
They proceeded to the bridge. Droid began to follow but the doors closed on him; so he concentrated & managed to easily port himself onto the bridge, where the admiral had already taken his seat & activated the intercom.
Listen up I know wed all rather be somewhere else than in the trenches, theres a grand universe out there to explore, & Im sure if you could you would go anywhere but here in an instant.
At that remark, a glimmer seemed to flash in Qs eye.
Ive just received word from Lt. Karbo: our mission is one of great peril. Regardless, I want you to remember that were not just front line fodder, Starfleet doesn't work that way. We will meet this challenge head on as we face insurmountable odds, & I have faith in each & every one of you to perform your duty to the very last breath. As weve grown closer over the past year, I look back & remember several now unrecognizable enemies that plagued our everyday function: mistrust, betrayal, xenophobia; these attributes are now all but diminished
He went on, almost over the top, but soon Droid began to tune things out, & the voices grew distant His speech was indeed moving; in fact Droid had almost considered that he may not have been able to deliver it better himself! But now something was drawing him in, as if a warm breeze were scooting him out the proverbial doggie-door, to hunt down the scent of some unknown yet appetizing flavor. Oh yes, the chase was on.
Droid took one last look around, the bridge: so familiar, his shipmates: he'd known so well, they seemed steadfast & on the brink of tears. He turned to face the viewscreen, & all at once he felt relief, sure of his abilities as if the knowledge had always been there, merely awaiting discovery. He closed his eyes, & walked through the viewscreen into open space; something most captains have only dreamed of doing.
& to think... for the first time, a daring human now willingly stood on the brink of the greatest adventure life had to offer, & he could chalk it all up to Q.