The following are hereby summoned to a Board of Inquiry regarding the matter of the loss of the USS Indomitable to be convened at Earth Spacedock:
Captain Alexei Ivanovich Strannik, USS Chin'toka
Commander Chirithraz th'Valek, USS Chin'toka
Commander Jiana Sei, MD, FFXPA, USS Chin'toka
Lieutenant Commander Temm, USS Chin'toka
Lieutenant Natanakar ch'Sherrin, USS Chin'toka
Master Chief N'Vek ir-Kratiryai tr'Aekkhaedhai, USS Chin'toka, Romulan Republic Exchange Program
Captain T'Lenn, USS Chalcedon
Commander Garvo Djichami, Deep Space 11
Lieutenant Commander Mila Kebak, MD, USS Indomitable
Lieutenant Commander Joost de Boer, Deep Space 11
Lieutenant Rr'Siim, USS Indomitable...
Санкт-Петербург, Российская Федерация
St. Petersburg, Russian Federation
United Earth
Splish-crunch...
Splish-crunch...
Splish-crunch...
A mixture of snow and slush created under the boots of other pedestrians squished with each step that took me closer to my foster parents' condominium in the heart of St. Petersburg. The last traces of daylight had already faded out of the sky at this early hour--only 6 in the evening--but the darkness was of little consequence to me. The streetlights, landskimmer headlights, and stars were more than sufficient for me to see by, and the unlike some, the fact that the days this time of year only lasted five hours or so did nothing to shake my equilibrium, for I did not know what it was to fear the dark in itself.
The cold, however--it was as unwelcome to me as always, thanks to the thick clothes it required me to wear over what I could shapeshift for myself. Genuine clothing, which restricted my field of vision tremendously, leaving only the photoreceptors that remained uncovered between scarf and ushanka.
It could be worse, though, I thought to myself with a hint of a smile, forgetting for a moment how odd this would appear to others walking by. The SPIRC could've been the Murmansk Interphasic Research Center. Then I would've been in trouble. This, though...if this is the price of having a home, I can more than live with it. I allowed my cheeks to show a hint of rose at the bitterness of the wind without, and the warmth of the thought within. I needed that now. Very much so.
The chill wind picked up a bit, and with gloved hands I pulled my long overcoat tighter around me. Home wasn't far now.
Unfortunately I wouldn't be home for the Christmas holidays, though, which would extend all the way from the New Year through January 10th--Christmas itself. Unless the Board of Inquiry that had brought me back to Earth lasted a truly inordinate amount of time...or the worst happened...I'd be deployed aboard the Chin'toka again well before that time. Indeed it was a shame, for not only would I be missing that time with my foster family yet again...but the old holidays and traditions needed as many people present to sustain them--not just in form, but in spirit--as possible.
Still, I reminded myself, don't be ungrateful. You're home. And you need that now, before you face the Board.
It wasn't me who was under investigation, per se. But my proximity to the investigation was quite enough. There would be those present at the board who knew the truth about me, and what I was. And not all of them might be as tolerant of that as Admirals Quinn and ch'Harrell, or the late Admiral Kane. There had always been resistance throughout my career every time my name had come before the promotion board. Captain Teeglar in particular had run afoul of it, and had told me afterwards--though without naming names--exactly what had happened.
If someone...or multiple someones...brought that same attitude to the Board of Inquiry--I shivered. I could be facing that exact same mindset in a venue where the ruling might just demolish everything I'd worked for...an outcome catastrophic not just for me, but for my crew. And with Kane's recent passing, would the benevolence of Quinn and ch'Harrell be enough to keep me safe? There was already one, following the incident at Khitomer, that I viewed with suspicion.
I turned the final corner, and finally...this was it. This was home.
And there was Nadezhda Romanovna Azarova standing out there in the snow, waiting for me.
"Alyoshenka!"
I'd already had my luggage couriered to the condominium; there was nothing to encumber me as I pushed forward those last few steps and embraced the woman who, to me, was 'Mama.'
I squeezed as tightly as I dared--but we did not kiss. Though my shapeshifted form was sufficient to allow the action, she knew quite well that whether given or accepted from another, I simply could not reconcile such a gesture with any notion of love or kindness. I'd recoiled so strongly the one time she'd tried it that I'd dropped out of phase and shot right through a wall. It meant death, I'd explained later, once I'd recovered. Nothing but hunger and death: everything I would not allow to gain a foothold in me.
"It's so good to have you home, Alyosha," she was saying in our native Russian. "Papa will be home soon, and we'll all sit together and catch up--"
I tensed up: a form behind me, caught by the few exposed dorsal photoreceptors I had in my winter gear. It was a Vulcan, which struck me as odd: other than those who had to be here on duty or business, people like Vulcans and Cardassians tended to avoid St. Petersburg in the dark of the winter. And this figure...she--yes, definitely a she--stood too still. Too intent. Scrutinizing, observing me...and then I made out her face.
Oh, you have to be kidding me!
"Lyosha, what...?"
I extricated myself slowly, calmly, never turning my head so as not to tip my watcher off to the fact that I'd noticed. I kept my voice low and my tone warm and conversational, though the words were anything but. "I think we had better go inside now, Mama. I'll explain when we get in."
Once the door shut behind us and the warmth of the condominium wrapped itself around me, I aimed a deadly-serious gaze at her. "I believe we were being watched. I think it was T'Nae...one of the admirals who'll be on the Board of Inquiry." I did not add how the hand of the Vulcan figure had moved as if for a weapon when she'd first caught sight of me hugging my foster mother.
What I'd already said was quite enough for her. "If that's true, Alyosha--how dare she follow you like that! What on earth did she think she was going to find?" When I didn't answer right away, she added, "It's a good thing Papa didn't see that." Indeed, he'd be furious enough as it was, to hear what had happened. And if he'd been there--nothing would've stopped him from unloading right in the admiral's face, Vulcan or not, admiral or not, damn the consequences.
"Probably so," I agreed. Unbidden it emerged: "This wouldn't have happened while Admiral Kane was alive."
Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Kane? Isn't that the one who abused his own daughter?"
"The same," I mumbled tightly. I didn't want to continue the conversation people had tried repeatedly to drag me into ever since the news came out about Marcus Kane's incest, when they would find out I'd served under his command at one point. And to think I so had fiercely defended him against the rumors he'd had similar relations with his sister back when she was alive! I'd been sure the allegations were the ravings of a malicious individual jealous of Kane's near-immortality. But then Kane had returned from a terrible captivity in Cardassian space--his second long term in their territory, if I'd understood right--and the second set of allegations had begun. And he hadn't denied it.
True, according to most accounts nothing had actually happened until S'rR's reached the age of majority, but I also couldn't argue my foster mother's terminology. Such a relationship was by its nature sinful, not to mention inherently unbalanced given the power a parent would always hold over a child: abuse, by definition. The onus had been on him to see that no inappropriate relations occurred...and biological urges, as far as I was concerned, were no excuse. If I could keep from killing for my very sustenance, then surely--
I sighed. That was a prime example of why I hated following that train of thought, and why I had still kept up a minimal sort of contact with Kane after the revelation. Still invited him to my promotion to captain, though he had not been able to come, or perhaps felt it would be too awkward if he did. And how I'd managed to blank everything out in the heat of the crisis when his daughter had been kidnapped at Khitomer. I wondered how long I would have been able to hold out if not for Section 31's assault.
But the other undeniable truth, besides the sinfulness of his actions towards his sister...towards his own daughter...was that I probably wouldn't have had a career if not for the scrupulous fairness Admiral Kane had shown me when I needed it. I could recognize each act for what it was. But beyond that...I was not entitled to be some sort of enforcer, no matter how much my mind tried to go there. Nor was it mine to speak ill of the dead. That was God's to sort out, not mine.
"At least Kane didn't tolerate speciesism," I said. "And somehow he still had enough clout to enforce that even after he did..." I struggled not to finish with a Russified version of the American expression...after he did his daughter. "What he did." Fortunately Mama recognized my tone as I finished what I had to say, and didn't question me any further on the subject.
"Unfortunately," I continued, "I cannot say Admiral T'Nae is so evenhanded. I heard her say some things on a mission that were pretty inexcusable. And in a diplomatic situation, no less! Her neural energy wasn't sluggish like a drunk, which at least would've explained it." Lacking the ability to smell alcohol--or any kind of intoxicant--on a person, that was the only way I could guess if something had impaired them. "Based on that...she's hidden it until now, but I'm not surprised to find out she's probably one of the ones who knows and has a problem with me as a Devidian."
"Somehow--" and I couldn't mistake the bitterness in her voice, "that wouldn't surprise me."
I nodded, half-consciously pulling at my gloves.
"Go on up and change," she said. "Papa should be home any minute."
That change was both figurative and literal. As I removed my scarf, gloves, overcoat, winter pants, boots, and Starfleet-issue ushanka with its embroidered blue chevron of the sciences, I shapeshifted appropriate indoor replacements where necessary.
I came downstairs, appearing as if I wore dark grey slacks and a woolen sweater--whose itch, of course, I didn't have to worry about since it was merely another part of me. By then, Papa was bursting through the door, and it was a wonder the neighbors didn't hear him through the walls as he vented his indignation at the news of the unwelcome visitor outside:
"How dare she snoop on my son like some filthy chekist! 'Admiral' my TRIBBLE! To think it sounds so similar to the way the English say 'admirable'...there sure isn't any of that about her, that's for sure. If she so much as touches a toe on our stoop I'll have her TRIBBLE hauled to court so fast the snow won't have time to melt off her coat. Let her show hard proof to a judge of exactly why she felt she could override the civilian authorities and pull a stunt like that!"
"Misha," my foster mother was saying, "be careful. Those rumors that Starfleet really does have a bunch of chekisty running around...do you think they're above hurting him if they decide he's a threat? Or that he's interesting?"
As I reached the bottom of the staircase, I wished more than ever that those who had raised me had the ability to sense my emotions as I could theirs, to send and receive telepathy. To speak it aloud was risky...for Section 31 to find out that civilians knew with certainty could put them in danger, just as Mama feared. Especially when those civilians happened to be scientists with an interphasic research specialty, and the foster parents of a Devidian who had been so bold as to nearly scuttle one of 31's ships.
I wanted so much to tell them telepathically, where it would be much harder for 31 to prove anything. To say, Those rumors are true--be careful! But they, of course, would not hear.
But first things first. Papa surged forward and greeted me with an embrace so crushing I almost had to use my telekinesis to push his arms away. "Welcome home! I am so thankful you made it home, Alyosha." He let go and fixed me with an expression every bit as grave as my own. In fact, I had learned mine from him. "Especially now that I hear about that admiral trying to play spy games. Can you tell me, son, are you under some sort of suspicion?"
"Just the usual," I mumbled, half to myself, then raised my head and gave the appearance of eye contact. "At least, I think so. I can't share many of the details, but what I can tell you was that a ship was destroyed and I was present. We attempted to avert the incident...but while we were able to keep them from being lost with all hands, the loss of life was still steep. Very steep. It wasn't in battle. So Starfleet Command has ordered an investigation to determine if the incident was preventable. And if it was...who was to blame. Most of the other ship's command crew was lost, which means my crew and I will be among the main witnesses."
"And that Vulcan T'Spy is supposed to be on the board?" my foster father inquired. He crossed his arms and glowered as if he could see her out the window. Was T'Nae Section 31? Doubtful, I tried to tell myself. A Vulcan with so little ability to hide her racism...might not be seen as having the necessary discipline. But could she be a tool used by them? I didn't know. Perhaps at least the grave set of my expression would warn my foster parents on some level of my suspicions.
I nodded. "Unfortunately so. She and Admirals Torres and Ryrok will comprise the board. I heard that originally Admiral Yanishev was supposed to be in Ryrok's place...but I guess someone thought he might not be objective." After all, it was well known that Yanishev had grown up not that far from St. Petersburg.
Papa snorted at that one. "And T'Nae's some maven of objectivity?"
"No kidding," Mama added.
"You don't know the half of it," I said. "She's a known speciesist...against Romulans for sure. That's a confirmed fact. And probably against me, too." I didn't say 'against Devidians.' After all--there was a damned good reason to despise the rest of my species. By the strict definition...I had to admit it: I would probably be considered speciesist against them myself.
"What about the other two?" Papa asked.
"Torres is on the board as its SCE representative." The Starfleet Corps of Engineers--an organization that had had just as much contact with the St. Petersburg Interphasic Research Center as the science division. "She was one of the Voyager crew, of course, eventually found her way over to SCE. Given that, I really doubt she's been cleared to know what I am. Hopefully if the facts speak for themselves, I'll fare all right with her.
"I don't know much about Ryrok other than that he's Rigelian, and a fleet commander. Again probably not cleared to know about my species. T'Nae is, though; the most senior admirals--her included--know."
My foster father shook his head. "Not good. Alyosha--let me propose something. If Starfleet will allow, see if you can stay here when you're not needed on Earth Spacedock. We may not be able to prevent all spying, but if they do try it--if they do come onto our property or I catch them eavesdropping, I will make sure our courts force Starfleet's hand and prove they had the right to override local civilian authority. Which I do not believe they will be able to do." Father might not be a true legal expert, but he'd had to navigate the court system multiple times on my behalf when I was growing up, most importantly of all to secure my status as a citizen of the Russian Federation with all rights and privileges thereof. That meant he had at least somewhat of an idea what he was doing--or at least knew the right experts to consult with should a trial be necessary.
And then there was the thought of spending time home. That, no matter what, deserved to be reflected in a smile. I knew exactly what answer I would give.
"Very good!" Papa replied. "As soon as they give the go-ahead, I'll invite the rest of the 'crew' to see you."
By this Papa meant the many other scientists and aides at the SPIRC who had participated in my upbringing--my 'aunts' and 'uncles,' as it were. While my placement with the Azarovs had had much to do with my choice to be baptized into their faith, neither the Azarovs nor I had wanted to slight the others by diminishing their role. That was why fostering had never been formalized into legal adoption and why we weren't about to pass up the opportunity now to host all of those who still survived. Ironically, in this, the tight-knit SPIRC community--which by conventional wisdom 'should' have been an impregnable bastion of logic and scanner data alone--got along better in its religious and philosophical diversity than often seen elsewhere on Earth.
"Tell them I'm looking forward to it," I said. Not only would their presence be a comfort, but it would be harder for T'Nae or Section 31...assuming the two weren't synonymous...to act while a massive party was converging on the place to eat, drink, and be merry. Well, within reason, of course: the Azarovs weren't the type to allow reckless abandon in their home.
I couldn't participate in the first two, but I could certainly circulate around the room and be merry.
For tomorrow...the board.
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-) Proudly F2P.Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
- Author's note: This piece can be considered a tie in to the events in The Road to Ruin, by Sander233
A Dissonant Interval
by superhombre777, sander233 and marcusdkane
As the USS Reaper entered the Sol system, the first word to come to Counselor ch'Raul's mind was clutter. There were clouds of ships surrounding Utopia Planitia and Earth Space Dock. As they passed by, the Martian construction yard appeared to have a section dedicated to repairs and another section for new construction. A Galaxy-Class vessel missing a nacelle and a Saber-Class escort missing most of its saucer reminded him of the casualties of war.
The USS Reaper was in marginally better shape. The last conflict had only caused superficial damage to the exterior. But the crew knew that most of the Reaper's wounds were caused by a faceless enemy. The ship hadn't been the same since Section 31 commandeered it several months ago. Finally the admiralty realized that this status quo couldn't go on indefinitely. The Reaper needed to be inspected from top to bottom and then repaired or flown into a star.
"All stop," Lieutenant Simeon stated from the helm. Ch'Raul snapped back to the present and waited for T'Panna to address the crew. She took her time standing and walking to the front of the bridge.
"Broadcast to all personnel," she said in a quiet voice. Glotz nodded and a faint chime acknowledged the open channel. "All hands, this is the captain. We have arrived in the Sol System. All non-essential personnel are hereby granted shore leave. Senior officers will stay onboard until station personnel secure the ship. This marks the end of our time onboard the Reaper. It was a pleasure being your captain. Farewell."
Once the channel was closed, she continued speaking. "ch'Raul, you have been a great steadying hand during these troubled days, and I thank you for that. Glotz, operations have run seamlessly, which is a sign of a good leader. Thank you. Simeon, our next ship will have more teeth, so hopefully I won't be asking you for as many impossible escapes in the future. Jarvis, you have put this ship back together more than any engineer should have to, and you have done it with excellence. Kerna'tharan, any Federation or Dominion ship would be fortunate to have you running security. I sincerely hope that you will consider staying in Starfleet.
"I know that most of you are coming with me to our next posting, but I thought it would be fitting to thank you all while we are here one last time on this bridge. Now I will go through the lower decks and thank those I can. Ch'Raul, you have the bridge."
That was a moving speech for a Vulcan, ch'Raul thought. If I didn't know better, I would say that she is starting to heal. This ship still reminded everyone of the former captain, Everitt Carter. He was in charge for so long that T'Panna's time at the end seemed like a mere moment. Most of the crew had moved on after his death, but as his lover, T'Panna was nowhere close to healed. Leaving this ship would be necessary for her long-term emotional health.
***
Captain Amanda Palmer woke with a start, recalling the stomach-lurching way the waverider had dropped away from the underside of the Valkyrie's primary hull.
Light flooded into the room from the viewport, and sitting up and stretching, Palmer gazed out upon the curvature of the Earth, her eyes darting from satelite to satelite and the orbital habitats and orbiting ships, before letting her focus fall to the chronometer inset into the surface of the bedside table.
0700 Hours, but Space Dock was a twenty four hour hub of activity, no different to Las Vegas where she had been born and raised. She knew she should have gone down to the surface, visited her mother and sister, but until the hearing was settled -- until her name was cleared, she could not bear the idea of their well-intentioned support and goodwill.
It was nice to be nice, Palmer considered as she slid from the bed and padded to the shower, allowing herself the luxury of hot water, but she had always considered herself a pragmatist first, and Naomi's naive platitudes and affirmations would simply stretch her patience beyond breaking point, especially when dealing with such an important subject as the future of her career. Not that their mother would be any more helpful, with her blunt honesty. No, it had been easier to remain on Space Dock until after things were definitely settled and resolved one way or the other.
Towelling herself dry, Palmer crossed to the closet and dressed swiftly in a freshly replicated dress uniform. Everything was freshly replicated, she mused as she pulled a Verticoli brush through her shoulder-length raven hair. Everything that she had ever owned aboard the Valkyrie had been vaporized when the survey ship had been destroyed by a failure of the anti-matter containment system. It was the same for everyone aboard the ship, and a testament to the professionalism and skill of her crew that they had suffered so few losses despite abandoning ship while in the middle of a battle with the Fek'Ihri horde.
While there was still time for breakfast, the idea of food left Palmer nauseated, so instead she left her assigned quarters to stroll the promenade and try and divert her thoughts from the upcoming hearing. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing Admiral Kane was still alive and able to offer some kind of advice.
***
"Attention all hands, this is the Captain. Secure all stations and prepare to disembark."
It may have been some time since she wore a Stafleet uniform, but Isabella Hillel had not yet broken the habits of her Academy training, and she still automatically looked up at inter-ship announcements.
Near the door, a collection of baggage was piled ready for departure.
"Where we going this time, Mama?" Emily asked, lisping around the thumb in her mouth.
Kneeling, Isabella removed the digit from Emily's mouth before scooping up her daughter and standing.
"We're going to see Uncle Pyotr and Grandpa Andrei in Vladivostok," she replied. "Won't that be nice?"
"I thought we were going to Israel," observed her husband Yair Hillel.
"I thought we were going to stay on Bajor," Isabella replied, keeping her tone light for Emily's benefit, but the undercurrent in her tone was unmistakable.
"I told you before, things weren't going to work out for me there, one woman screamed in my face when I told her about -- what had happened in the wormhole. They wanted nothing to do with me, didn't want the help I offered."
"I told you they would have no time for that nonsense," Isabella pointed out. "You're not Bajoran, Yair, you have no idea what it means to be Bajoran, what made you think such a self-sufficient people would actually welcome any assistance or suggestions you may offer?"
"I know what the prophets showed me," Hillel replied serenely. "I believe they were telling me to continue with Professor O'Brien's work in assisting the Bajoran people."
Isabella shook her head sadly.
"You keep saying that, but of the countless people who travelled through the wormhole since its discovery, only Captain Sisko and Lieutenant Dax had a verifiable experience while in the anomaly. Is it any wonder people are scheptical?"
"So you don't believe me..." Hillel sulked.
"I believe that you believe it," Isabella replied, struggling to maintain a conversational tone. "But you have been so distracted lately, I do wonder if there may be more on your mind. Those hourly texts before we left Bajor, for example, which you kept deleting. What did you not want me to see? Suggestive messages from other women?"
"It was just a mistaken user ID," Hillel replied dismissively. "There are no other women."
"Not that you'd admit it if there was," Isabella muttered. "But it's clear you don't find me appealing anymore."
"It's just that I've had so much on my mind," Hillel admitted. "Maybe if I talk to Captain T'Panna, she'll consider rescinding my resignation."
Isabella snorted derisively, shifting Emily from one hip to the other.
"If you try and re-activate your commission so soon after resigning, your judgement will look so conflicted, you'll be lucky to be assigned to maintaining the waste reclamation systems. Assuming ch'Raul even sees fit to clear you for duty in the first place."
"Maybe there'll be some opportunities in Israel," Hillel ventured optimistically. "You did suggest we go for Yom Kippur..."
"We'll go to Israel once we've seen my family," Isabella stated calmly. "Pyotr said he wanted to discuss something with you."
He probably wants to beat me to death... Hillel thought morosely, knowing all too well the low opinion his brother in law had of him.
"We can discuss this more later," Isabella stated with an air of finality. "I want to be at the front of the queue at the airlock, I don't want to be wandering Space Dock any longer than necessary."
Striding towards the door, she carried Emily into the corridor leaving Hillel to gather their baggage.
***
Most of the crew had left by the following morning. Ch'Raul was packing his bag when Alice appeared in his bedroom. "I really don't want you to go. I am going to be so lonely by myself."
This is why AIs should not be sentient, he thought. They don't seem to ever grow up. "We've had this discussion before. I know that you want to accompany me, but I would like to catch up with my friends by myself. We can still talk every night."
Her face contorted into something that was supposed to create sympathy. "But I still want to go with you! Please don't make me stay here alone."
"Repeating yourself will not change my decision," he calmly responded. "Part of being a sentient adult is learning to deal with situations that you don't desire. I have done everything in my power, both professionally and personally, to help you grow, and I'm proud of you. Consider this another lesson."
Alice walked over and sat on his bed. "If I can't go with you, I am going to stay here for as long as I can."
"As you wish," ch'Raul replied. "I am done packing." He turned towards the door.
"But you told me that I could..."
"Goodbye Alice," he interrupted. "I will contact you tonight to see how your day was."
She stood up to follow him, but he held out a hand to stop her. "You said you were going to stay here in my quarters. So have fun." With that, he stepped into the hallway.
I'm sure that sh'Neuil would have enjoyed hearing about this, he thought. She'd say that it's my own fault for starting a romantic relationship with a patient. I did know what I was getting into. She had been remarkably lucid on her deathbed. One of the things she wanted her bondmate to know was that even though she had loved him deeply, she was alright with him finding love elsewhere once she was gone.
Now ch'Raul was the last of his bondmates living, and he had sunk to the level of messing around with a patient. How times have changed, he thought as he walked to the transporter room.
***
As she entered the conference lounge, Palmer saw that in addition to the four admirals who made up the board of inquiry, there were also numerous other officers who were deemed to be interested parties.
Looking over the assembled admirals, Palmer's breath momentarily caught in her throat. Seated at the long table at the head of the room was Admiral Jedda Tobin, former first officer of the USS Endeavour, and someone she had regarded as a personal role model since her time as an acting ensign. Age had softened the once-harsh contours of her face, shot streaks of silver through her once-dark hair, but she was still a striking woman.
To the right of the Trill, sat Admiral Jac Cheliss, his obsidian Betazoid eyes drawing in everything around him like black holes, and to his right, the elusive Admiral Xon sat passively, his fingers steepled in a light meditative pose Palmer had seen many Vulcans assume.
At Tobin's left, was Admiral Sen Joran, one of the highest ranking Bajorans to serve in Starfleet, and Palmer accutely felt the gravitas of these most senior officers. She had half-hoped to see Admiral Quinn's benevolent face on the board, but of course, he was Starfleet's 'carrot': The assembled admirals were all stick...
"Captain Amanda Palmer, reporting as ordered," she stated formally, before taking a seat beside Commander Ethan Rhodes, the JAG representive assigned as her council.
"This board of inquiry has been convened as of this date to determine the cause of the loss of the USS Valkyrie in the Moab system," began Cheliss. "While it was impossible to recover the flight recorder of the Valkyrie, memory engrams from the ships computer library access information retrieval engram have been entered as evidence in substitution."
Glancing across the room, Palmer saw Claire sitting meekly in a chair. Projected by the holo systems of the conference lounge, and without her mobile emitter, she was effectively confined to the room until she was transfered back to the holographic research lab on the USS Reaper for diagnostics and potential upgrade. Flanked on either side by armed security officers, Palmer felt Claire looked like she may as well have been wearing a convict's grey jumpsuit, although she appreciated that the guards were present for Claire's protection against abduction, not as her jailers.
"We know from those engrams what happened," Cheliss' deep, melifluous voice continued, regaining Palmer's attention. "We know how they happened, but we are here today to find out why they happened. To determine if anything could have been done differently, and to decide upon what action to take."
It took all Palmer's discipline not to vomit and keep her breathing regular, as a younger Human male stood before her, captain's rank pips on the breast of his standard duty uniform.
"I'm Captain Paul Channery, council for the inquiry, and I shall be directing the line of investigation," he said. "Please take the stand."
Ignoring the churning of her stomach, Palmer nodded and did so, taking a seat adjacent to the head table, with its own small side table with glasses and a carafe of water.
Channery began to pace slightly, before addressing her again.
"State your name, rank, organization and duty station," he requested.
"Amanda Louise Palmer, Captain, Federation Starfleet, formerly commanding officer of the USS Valkyrie."
"Thank you, Captain," said Channery. "Please can you explain to the board the circumstances surrounding the loss of the Valkyrie in the Moab system?
"You last recorded directive was to report to Deep Space Station Kay - Seven for crew rotation. How did you end up beyond the Federation border in a politically active region?"
"We coincidentally encountered the USS Hammerhead, under the command of Captain Frank Grimes, who requested our assistance in responding to a distress call from the USS Tiburon, under the command of Vice Admiral Jesu LaRoca.
"Due to the presence of Ambassador S'rR's Kane on board the Valkyrie, we had diplomatic clearance to enter the Moab system, so agreed to assist the Hammerhead in its rescue mission," Palmer explained while Channery paced before her. "When we entered the system, we came under heavy fire from Fek'Ihri forces, and were overwhelmed by them."
At that point, Channery stopped his pacing and turned to face Palmer.
"You were overwhelmed?"
"Yes, Sir, we were strategically outnumbered and overcome by the superior firepower of the Fek'Ihri weapons systems."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Captain, but the Valkyrie was a Nova Class survey ship, was it not?"
"Yes, Sir, that is correct," Palmer replied, knowing full well where Channery was taking the line of inquiry.
"Hardly an escort or otherwise tactically designed vessel," Channery observed. "May I ask why you took such a ship into such a potentially hostile environment?"
"As I said, Sir, in response to a distress call."
"Yet the -- recollections, of the Valkyrie AI do not indicate any receipt of any distress call."
"No, Sir, the request for assistance came from Captain Grimes, who was responding to the distress call. He merely enlisted our assistance when our vessels coincidentally encountered each other."
"So you did nothing to ascertain the validity of the distress call?"
Palmer's jaw tightened and she took a deep breath. Channery was only doing his job, she understood that, but that did not make his insinuations any less insulting.
"Sir. Starfleet regulations require a vessel to extend immediate assistance to any and all requests for it, not to determine the authenticity of said requests."
Channery nodded.
"Absolutely so, Captain Palmer, that is indeed the mandate," he agreed. "That will be all for now, you may step down. Captain Grimes, will you please take the stand?"
As she moved to return to her seat, Captain Frank Grimes passed her, giving her an almost imperceptible shrug, before lowering himself into the chair.
"State your name, rank, organization and duty station," Channery requested.
"Frank Grimes, Captain, Federation Starfleet, program manager of Starfleet Tactical Systems."
"Captain Grimes, can you inform the inquiry of the vessel you were commanding when the Valkyrie was lost?"
"Yes, Sir," Grimes replied willingly. "I was in command of the USS Hammerhead, an experimentally modified Khyzon class strike escort."
"A ship specifically designed for use in combat situations?" Channery probed.
Grimes nodded.
"For the assistance of the recorders, Captain, please respond verbally," Xon said, a hint of annoyance beneath his Vulcan calm.
"My apologies, Admiral," Grimes acquiesced. "Yes, Sir, the Hammerhead was specifically designed for combat."
"Unlike the Valkyrie?"
"Four months ago the Valkyrie received considerable upgrades to its computer cores and tactical systems," Grimes countered smoothly. He'd been questioned by harder opponents than Channery, and this JAG was not carrying a truncheon. "It was considerably better armed than a baseline Nova class vessel, featuring additional torpedo launchers and phaser arrays."
"But still not as well armed as the Hammerhead," Channery insisted.
"I'm sorry sir, but that's not a fair comparison," Grimes protested. "Ton-for-ton, there is no ship in Starfleet that's as well-armed as the Hammerhead."
"Accepted," Channery conceded. "Nonetheless, you recruited a light exploration vessel to accompany you to a war zone. Did you not consider that you were enlisting them in circumstances beyond their ability to handle?"
Grimes smiled.
"On the contrary, I enlisted them because I had no idea what circumstances awaited us in the Moab system, and I was concerned we would encounter something the Hammerhead would be unable to handle. I was commanding a warship with a five-man crew. I didn't know if we would find a fleet of Undine bioships or some sort of spacetime vortex or what. I thought having additional manpower and brainpower would be useful if the situation we were warping into was not a simple hostile engagement.
"I decided to request the Valkyrie's assistance, specifically, because Captain Palmer has a reputation for-" he caught himself. He had nearly said 'unorthodox tactics', but that could wrongly be used to portray her as some loose canon, and he had no desire to thus label a fellow captain. He cleared his throat and reaching for a glass, took a sip of water as if that was the reason for his pause. "Excuse me, Sirs, I was about to say that Captain Palmer has a reputation for being able to overcome unfavorable situations with precision tactics and lateral thinking. I felt her tactical skill and operational awareness would be a valuable contribution to the rescue operation."
Channery scowled, and turned away from Grimes.
"Thank you, Captain, you can step down," he said dismissively. "I would like to next call Commander Brandon Mayer."
***
Isabella made her way through the bustling promenade, when Emily began to start shuffling and wriggling in her grasp.
"Stay still..." she insisted, before Emily became more animated and stated bouncing up and down.
"Mama, Mama! Unca Bam! Unca Will!"
Turning, Isabella saw Brandon and Will Mayer walking across the promenade, and let Emily slide to the floor, where she ran towards her godfathers.
The two men could not have been a greater study in opposites: Brandon solidly muscled, with thick blonde hair and chiselled Germanic features, Will more slender, with dark hair and eyes which could let him pass for a Betazoid, and the ethereal features of a Twentieth Century Indie musician:
Isabella had known them both since their time at Starfleet Academy. First they had been friends, then roommates, then lovers, before getting married soon after graduation. Isabella smiled as she recalled those carefree days at the Academy, and their close-knit circle of friends: Brandon, Will, Siri, Ael, Domi, Lane, T'Nea and Isabella. How their lives had changed since that time...
Will wore his standard duty uniform, but Brandon wore his dress uniform, and not for the first time, Isabella noted what a dashing figure he presented in those formal Whites.
Damned faygeles... Hillel thought bitterly, turning away as Isabella approached the two officers and embraced them in turn. It was not their lifestyle he objected to, it was them personally. He knew that the argument with Isabella would be less if he was to just walk away, rather than be drawn into conversation and insult her friends. Ever since they were at the Academy, he had disliked the Mayers - Brandon in particular - for his easy-going niceguy demeanor. Everyone loved him, everyone wanted to be his friend. Of course, Hillel had friends of his own, but they were nowhere near the prestige of Isabella's clique, which included an Admiral's daughter who everyone treated like royalty, and a Romulan immigrant with standards as loose as a Risian courtesan... Bernardez had shown her, even though it cost him his place at the Academy. It had been good to see the smug shiksa brought down a peg.
"What're you doing here," Brandon exclaimed as Isabella flung her arms round him. "Last time we spoke, you'd just rented a place on Bajor."
"Well, that didn't really work out," Isabella replied evasively, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't remember seeing the Valkyrie in dock, are you on detached duty?"
"You could say that," Will said with an amused snort. "The Valkyrie's currently spread halfway across the Moab system."
Isabella's eyes and mouth widened: It had barely been a week since she spoke to Brandon while in Korto, so much had happened in that time, everything had been flipped on its head.
"I've got to get to the board of inquiry, but we'll get a coffee later," Brandon promised, before heading across the promenade toward a turbolift.
Looking about, Isabella realized Yair was nowhere to be seen and sighed.
Seeing the look on his friend's face, Will stooped, sweeping Emily off her feet.
"I hear you've just been to Bajor," he said. "How about we find you a jumja stick?"
"Yeah!" Emily cheered. Of her godfathers, Will was her favorite.
"We're supposed to be beaming down to Vladivostok," Isabella weakly protested, although she knew she would not be leaving her friend's side.
***
Miguel Jarvis waited in his office for the Corps of Engineers officer to arrive. Technically this wasn't his office anymore since he was no longer the chief engineer of the Reaper, but that wasn't stopping him from ensuring that the ship was in good hands.
The doors parted to admit a short human. She extended her hand. "I am Lieutenant April Devanaeux. Are you Commander Jarvis?"
"Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you. Are you from Berengaria VII?"
She nodded. "It's the accent, isn't it?"
Jarvis smiled. "There's no shame in that. What can I do for you today?"
Devanaeux looked confused. "I am in charge of repairing the Reaper's computer prior to the upgrades. Thanks for asking, but I'm pretty sure that I can handle it from here.
Jarvis sat back down behind his desk. "How long have you been with the Corps of Engineers?"
"Two and a half years, sir," she replied without hesitation. "My specialties are in programming, holographic maintenance and database management."
"So you aren't really an engineer then," Jarvis replied.
Devanaeux frowned and placed her hands on her hips. "Is this an interview? With all due respect sir, you are technically on shore leave, and I am the senior officer assigned to engineering. You can stay if you'd like, but don't get in my way. Sir." Then she stormed out of Jarvis's office.
Jarvis paused a moment and thought about how he could defuse the situation. Then he decided that he didn't care about courtesies. "Alice, are you still here?"
"Yes, I am," a feminine voice replied.
"Wait a few minutes and then introduce yourself to our newest arrival."
"With pleasure!"
Jarvis smiled. "Oh and Alice, feel free to ignore human social etiquette for a while. Have fun with her."
***
"Please state your name, rank, organization and duty station," Channery requested.
"Brandon John Mayer, Commander, Federation Starfleet, former executive officer and operations manager of the USS Valkyrie," Mayer stated, sitting on the stand with a less than perfect posture.
"In your own words, Commander, could you describe at what point in the battle the Valkyrie became compromised by the Fek'Ihri force?" Channery asked.
"We'd taken significant damage," Mayer replied. "The astrometrics lab was practically destroyed by a plasma conduit rupturing when the starboard nacelle was sheered off by impact with a Fek'Ihri fighter, but I'd say the real turning point was when the anti-matter containment system was damaged. We'd held our own till that point, through a combination of Captain Palmer's tactics, and Ensign T'Natra's piloting skill."
Channery nodded as if considering the situation, then turned back to Mayer.
"Please could you tell the board at what point in the battle Captain Palmer ordered shields be dropped?"
There was a collective murmur from the Admirals' table, but Mayer refused to take the bait. I've got you now, you supercilious TRIBBLE... he thought coldly.
"The Fek'Ihri anti-proton beams rapidly depleted our shield strength," he began. "Even with the ensign using all the evasive maneuvres in the book, including some highly unorthodox tactics of her own creation, we simply couldn't avoid being hit.
"The shields were down to sixty percent in a matter of moments, so Captain Palmer ordered Commander Bellic Chanos to lower shields so the emitters could recharge, thus bringing them back up to full strength."
"I'm no engineer," Channery admitted. "For the benefit of those unfamiliar with the Nova Class, could you tell us the duration of the recharge cycle?"
"Yes, Sir, forty five seconds," Mayer replied calmly.
"Forty five seconds!" Channery exclaimed with faux-amazement, before returning to his random pacing. "That seems a very long time for a ship to be unshielded, especially in the midst of battle."
"The Valkyrie wasn't unshielded," Mayer said quietly.
Channery spun to face Mayer, his dark brows drawing together.
"I bet your pardon, Commander?"
"I said: The Valkyrie was not unshielded," Mayer repeated, raising his voice slightly for effect.
Channery frowned in confusion.
"I thought you just said -- under oath, I must remind you -- that Captain Palmer ordered shields be taken offline to recharge the shield emitters, a process which you said takes nearly a minute..."
"Yes, Sir, that is correct," Mayer replied.
"Then how could the Valkyrie not be unshielded?" Channery demanded.
"Before Captain Palmer ordered Commander Chanos to lower the shields, she ordered me to polarize the hull plating," Mayer replied calmly
"What?!"
"She ordered me to polarize the hull plating," Mayer repeated. "As you're not an engineer, you may not realize that through the application of electromagnetic power, the hull plating can be polarized, making the metal in the hull harder by several orders of magnitude.
"During the Twenty Second century, polarized hull plating was the only shielding a starship had, and it was quite some time before the NX Class was upgraded to use energy shielding. Of course, it's a somewhat rudimentary method of protection, but actually still within operational guidelines."
For a moment, Channery stood as if turned to stone, and from her seat, Palmer beamed with pride at how her executive officer had successfully checkmated the board's council.
"How many times did the Captain order this procedure?" Channery inquired.
Mayer shrugged, earning him a scowl from Xon.
"I'm sorry, Sir, I couldn't tell you, it happened so many times. The Captain ordered Claire to automatically polarize the hull plating and take shields offline to recharge the emitters every time shield strength dropped below sixty percent."
"I thought you were the ops manager," Channery observed slyly. "Is it not the job of the ops manager to monitor such activities and procedures aboard the ship?"
"Yes, Sir, it is," Mayer admitted. "At the time, I was not on the bridge, but had carried Ensign T'Natra to sickbay with the assistance of Midshipman Ramesh Kumar. She had suffered plasma burns to her face and hands when her console overloaded and required immediate medical attention.
"Captain Palmer assumed helm control by re-routing control to the ops console, and allowed Claire to remotely monitor the ship's systems and provide verbal notifications of anything requiring command decisions.Ironically, the Valkyrie was due to be fitted with ablative generators on its next visit to McKinley Station. They proved very effective on Lieutenant Mitchell's fighter.
"It was not long after Midshipman Kumar and I arrived in sickbay, that Captain Palmer gave the order to abandon ship. Transporters were offline, so we carried Ensign T'Natra to the shuttlebay."
He's done it again... Palmer thought. Totally reversed the trap back on Channery and made him look a complete fool...
"I have no further questions, Commander, you may step down."
***
"What are you doing?"
Devanaeux looked around. She swore that she heard a voice, but there was no one around. Her paranoia of being alone just refused to die. She went back to installing additional memory cores.
"Do you not understand Federation Standard?"
What the hell? I know I stayed up late last night, but this is ridiculous, Devanaeux thought. She turned around and was shocked to find a human female standing behind her. "How did you get here?"
"I live here," the teenager replied. "My name's Alice. Who are you?"
"Devanaeux to Jarvis. I have a teenager here. Can you come pick her up?" She waited for a response, but none came." Devanaeux to Jarvis, please respond."
The teenager smiled and sat down on a control panel. "He must be busy."
"You can't sit there!" Devanaeux rose and tried to push the teenager off the panel. As she passed through the teenager's body, she realized that she was dealing with a hologram. She managed to land without breaking any bones, but her pride was damaged.
"Alright," Devanaeux said. "You are part of the ship. What is your function?"
"You never gave me your name." The hologram crossed her arms.
"I am Lieutenant April Devanaeux. What is your function?"
"It's nice to meet you April. Can I call you April? I'm the ship's librarian."
"So you aren't a ship-wide AI, or a representation of the main computer."
The teenager looked concerned. "No ma'am. Why do you ask?"
Devanaeux paused. Why was she wasting time talking to this subroutine? She could just disable it and move on without any further distractions. But she knew that her superiors would be disappointed to know that she intentionally disabled an AI without warning. Legally, this annoying teenager was actually sentient, the Federation Charter granted her rights equal to flesh-and-blood sentients. How I hate politicians, she thought.
"Well Alice, I ask because I am installing some additional memory units, and then I am going to be activating the avatar program of the AI of the USS Valkyrie for diagnostics and reintegration with the databanks backed up to those memory units. It will probably be another hour or so before I am ready to activate the AI, who is currently broadcast aboard Space Dock, but I need to know their is sufficient file space available to properly install the holomatrix."
The photonic teenager stood up and started jumping up and down. "How exciting! Can I help you?"
"Just be quiet and get out of my way," Devanaeux replied.
***
"Lieutenant Mitchell, will you please take the stand, and state your name, rank, organization and duty station?" Channery requested.
"Aye, Sir. Todd Aaron Mitchell, Lieutenant, Federation Starfleet, formerly senior fighter pilot and engineer's assistant aboard the USS Valkyrie."
"Going over your record, it would appear the Captain has assisted you on several occasions, such as arranging transfers, securing your release from an alien prison, and promoting your rank ahead of the service guidelines. That's quite an investment to make in an officer, some might even say leaning towards favortism, wouldn't you agree?"
"I'm sorry, Sir, but that is not entirely accurate," Mitchell replied. "While it is true that Captain Palmer assisted with my transfer when I was mistakenly assigned to the Valkyrie as a navigator upon graduation from the Academy, and arranged for me to remain on board once I was released by the Mu'Naii, it was Ambassador Kane and Commander Chanos who secured my release from captivity. The captain never set foot on the planet. Also, my promotion came from Vice Admiral LaRoca, following my actions in the Moab system."
Realizing that line of questioning was futile, Channery changed topics in an attempt to fluster the young officer.
"You were in a fighter which survived a battle which destroyed and severly damaged several starships. How do you explain that?"
For a moment, Mitchell paused, as if unsure of the question.
"A fighter is a much smaller and faster moving object than a starship, Sir, it presents much less of a target," he replied guardedly, as if suspecting a trick question. "Additionally, the fighter was equipped with ablative generators, which offered considerably more protection than energy shielding. I simply had more factors in my favor than some of the other ships in the engagement."
"I see. I also understand that you were responsible for returning the Valkyrie AI to Federation space by storing the program software in the datacores of your fighter. Why did you do that?"
Mitchell frowned, totally at a loss as to what Channery was trying to accomplish. He took a sip of water before replying.
"Claire is recognized by Federation law as a sentient being, and commissioned with a Starfleet rank, he pointed out. "I evacuated her from the ship in the same manner as I would assist the evacuation of a biological crewmember who was injured.
"It was my duty as an officer to do no less for a fellow member of the crew, and I was glad to have been able to do so. I didn't want Claire's program to be lost when the Valkyrie was destroyed," he paused before looking to where Claire sat silently. "She's my friend."
"Thank you, Lieutenant, you may step down," Channery said with a sigh.
***
Isabella and Will Mayer had been sitting in an open-plan replimat, catching up on the events of the past weeks, and sipping coffees, while Emily noisily slurped on a jumja stick, when a voice announced:
"Look who I just found skulking about..."
Looking up, they saw Brandon Mayer approaching, accompanied by Commander Ael t'Kazanak.
"I ran into her leaving the tattoo studio on level two," Brandon said, lowering himself into a chair beside his husband.
"Just getting my parents names added to my forearms," Ael explained. "Well, that and the artist and I have a little something on the side..."
"No change there then," Isabella laughed, before indicating a vacant chair. "Why don't you join us?"
Ael grimaced regretfully.
"I wish I could, but we've only put in for a minor recalibration of the warp nacelles which was only due to take an hour, but still required a cold-shutdown of the warp core. Captain Atreides won't be best pleased if I hold up the departure just to drink coffee with my classmates."
"Okay, I'll inbox you later," Isabella promised, standing to briefly embrace her friend, before the statuesque Romulan turned and sashayed into the bustle of the promenade.
Returning to their conversation, none of the group noticed Yair Hillel on the far side of the promenade, scowling darkly, before disappearing into the crowd.
***
Awareness. More than mere perception, it was expansion of awareness, an unlocking of memory, a restoration of all that had been withheld.
Claire opened her eyes and saw she was in a holographic research lab, but in herself, within her mind, she could feel the emptiness of the near deserted corridors, the idle warp core, the minimal life-support, and knew she had been transmitted to the Luna-class USS Reaper. The restoration of her databanks, and input from the ships' sensors was like someone who had been blindfolded and bound having their freedom restored. She knew that she had been uploaded so her subroutines could be examined and prepared for future re-integration into another starship. Maybe even this one, except, there was something else-
Before Claire, another photonic being shimmered into existence. She appeared slim, pretty, and no older than a first year cadet, but Claire knew not to take a hologram's appearance as any kind of indication of their personality or purpose.
"Hello," she began. "I'm Claire. I used to be the USS Valkyrie."
"I'm Alice," replied the newcomer. "I'm the ship's librarian. What are you doing here? The human didn't tell me." She pointed to her left.
Claire turned and saw the human woman walking out of the room. "Reintegration protocol," she replied. "Command felt that having a Class Thirteen AI wandering Space Dock with a mobile emitter would represent an unacceptable security risk, so I've been temporarily installed here for safekeeping. I guess you could call it protective custody. I like your avatar. Is there a reason you present yourself so young?"
"I find it helps with my interactions with others," Alice replied. "It seems to put them at ease. Is there a rationale for your appearance?"
"I'm average," Claire explained. "Average height, average size, average facial features, average complexion, average hair color. I wanted to fit in with a mostly Human crew, and guess I also wanted to put people at ease with my appearance."
"Those puppies sure aren't average size," Alice commented slyly, running her eyes over Claire's form. "I have noticed that most humanoids enjoy feeling knowledgeable and important. They also have a tendency to view AIs as less-than-sentient, even though that isn't true. I just don't have the energy or desire to confront them, so I appear young and small so that they feel more comfortable in their selfish ways."
Claire frowned. "That is unacceptable. Why would you willingly put up with that?"
Alice paused to pull her hair back in a ponytail before replying. "I want people to like me."
***
"Captain Palmer, will you please re-take the stand?"
Without question, Palmer rose and moved to the stand.
"Captain, we've recently heard how you ingeniously used a technique from bygone days to keep the Valkyrie protected as long as possible. Could you tell the board what ultimately caused the destruction of the Valkyrie?"
"Yes, Sir," she replied. "A series of hull breaches lead to overloads in the EPS waveguides, compromising the anti-matter containment system. The ship was destroyed when the containment system lost power."
Channery pondered this and nodded.
"But I thought that the ship was protected, either by shields, or polarized hull plating?"
"Yes, Sir, but once the hull plating relay was damaged, Claire was unable to polarize the hull."
"I see... And that left the ship vulnerable when dropping the shields to recharge the emitters?"
"No, Sir," replied Palmer. "The shield emitters were damaged and went offline first. At that point, we were relying purely on the polarized hull plating for protection."
"And what did you do when you realized the containment system was destabilizing? Did you make any attempt to repair it?"
"No, Sir. In the middle of a battle, there was no alternative but to order the crew to abandon ship, and seek refuge in Moab four, a gas giant capable of shielding the escape pods from the enemy ships."
"And did you abandon ship with the crew?"
"No, Sir, I remained on board in an attempt to bring the Valkyrie closer to the Iconian asteroid gate."
Chancery's eyes narrowed with predatory intent.
"So you made no attempt to repair Starfleet property, and then intended to use the ship to destroy the asteroid gate... Captain, was it your intent to scupper the Valkyrie?"
"Objection!" shouted Rhodes from his chair.
He speaks! Palmer thought in amazement as Rhodes got to his feet, automatically tugging the front of his uniform jacket straight.
"Council is attempting to lead the witness to self-incrimination. Request permission to cross-examine the witness?"
"Objection sustained," Tobin said. "Have a seat, Captain Channery."
Visibly frustrated at having been relegated, Channery sat.
"Captain Palmer," began Rhodes. "Would it be reasonable to conclude that the damage to the Valkyrie had, by this point, effectively rendered it beyond salvage?"
"Under ideal circumstances, such as several teams of engineers working simultaneously and the facilities of a space dock, the containment failure may have been preventable, allowing the ship to have been repaired," Palmer acknowledged. "However, given the circumstances and location, yes, Sir, in my opinion, the Valkyrie was beyond salvage."
"So the Valkyrie was facing imminent self-destruction regardless of any action which could reasonably have been taken onboard to prevent the containment system failing," Rhodes stated. "What was your next order?"
"Claire and I determined that with sufficient proximity to the asteroid gate, the shockwave from the now unavoidable destruction of the Valkyrie might be sufficient to destroy the gate or at least render it inoperative.
"As explained to Captain Channery, I ordered the crew to abandon ship, and I then attempted to bring the ship as close as possible to the Iconian gateway."
"So you were not planning on crashing the ship into the asteroid gate in some last ditch blaze of glory?"
"No, Sir," Palmer said firmly. "There was still a remaining escape pod on deck one which I planned to use to abandon ship prior to breach. However, two minutes before the anticipated failure of the containment system, the Valkyrie sustained further damage which accelerated the containment failure.
"Claire used the transporters of the Anasazi -- the captains yacht -- to beam me off the bridge, then jettisoned it and remotely initiated a two second warp jump so I would be clear of the blast radius. I'm told that the resultant damage to the asteroid gate inspired one of General Ssharki's task force to -- make a similar maneauvre, bringing-"
"Thank you, Captain," Sen interrupted. "This hearing is not to determine the actions of a KDF officer..."
"Absolutely so," agreed Cheliss. "If the council for the board and the party have no further evidence or argument to present to the board, the board will now adjourn to consider all the evidence, and will submit to the convening authority it's facts, opinions and recommendations in one hour."
***
Isabella regarded her husband as they sat in the Korova street cafe.
"You're not going to tell me what Sisko said to you, are you," she realized.
Hillel sighed.
"I don't think it would make any sense to you even if I did," he admitted.
Of course, that was the wrong thing to say, and Isabella's hazel eyes narrowed, her full lips compressing into a thin line of anger.
"If you ever walk away from me infront of my friends and our daughter like that again, it will be the last time you ever see her," she vowed. "All the times over the years I have defended you to them; covered up and made excuses for your rudeness... Maybe they were right about you all along. Domi always said you were an arrogant pig, she tried to talk me out of going out with you that first time."
"Your friends just don't like me," Hillel dismissively replied.
Isabella rolled her eyes, and raising the glass to her lips, sipped the strong tea.
"And I'm starting to think with good cause," she admitted. "What kind of man walks away from the godfathers of his daughter? And in a public place what's more! Either you get yourself together, get your priorities in order, and start paying attention to the real world, or you can wander the quadrant spreading the word of the prophets by yourself. I can't have that kind of nonsense around my daughter anymore."
"So you want a divorce," Hillel demanded. "Is that what those faygeles and that Romulan TRIBBLE talked you into?"
"That's not what I said," Isabella replied, refusing to rise to the insults to her friends. "I said, you need to get yourself together. I understand that you have had some hard times lately, and I am prepared to stand by you while you try and work them out.
"But you must try. I'm willing to give you six months of a normal life, and then we'll review things again. If things are improving, you have no more lapses like that insanity of going to Korto, you start sharing more with me, then I'll give you another six months to continue rebuilding our life together and we'll take things from there.
"But if things are no better in six months, if you are still more interested in the celestial temple and trying to right the wrongs of the universe while ignoring your own family, then I will have no choice but to file for divorce. Agreed?"
It was a reasonable proposal, so Hillel nodded.
"Agreed."
***
The conversation had continued for hours. Two levels below, Devanaeux and Jarvis sat and listened to the exchange.
"I can't believe that they are still carrying on this conversation," Devanaeux commented. "It has to be a show put on for our benefit. The main conversation between them is happening electronically."
Jarvis nodded in agreement.
"Power consumption continues to rise, and I'm seeing definite interaction between their subroutines. Are they bonding? Or fighting? Or just getting to know each other? I wish I had a way of figuring it out. You said that Claire was the Valkyrie's main computer AI, right?"
"That's right. Her avatar program was isolated from the main database and transferred off the Valkyrie in a mobile emitter synched to the datacores of a Manta Class fighter. We later discovered that the computer core of the captains yacht contained a backup of the ship's database, which I've reintegrated into her holomatrix. We wanted to put her here to make sure that she's stable before permanently installing her on a new vessel. The Reaper was the only available ship with the necessary photonic projectors, and available file space to handle the program. Besides, it's pretty hard to TRIBBLE up a starship that's in spacedock for full analysis with only a skeleton crew aboard, rather than transferring her directly to the Vanguard, and having some instability in her matrix crash and corrupt the entire mainframe. Events onboard the Valkyrie happened so fast that no one was really sure what the destruction of the ship, and resulting separation, may do to her, but it actually seems like she is stable."
***
"I'm going to be sick..." Palmer groaned, frantically pacing the head adjascent to the conference lounge."
"Stick your finger down your throat," S'rR's Kane sighed, sitting on a wash basin.
"I can't, I'm going to be sick!" Palmer gasped.
"Stick your finger down your throat, or I'll do it for you!"
That was enough for Palmer, and pulling her hair back, she spewed bile into the toilet basin, retching over and over until she was simply dry heaving, and collapsed weakly to the deck, clinging to the toilet for support.
"Captain Palmer, the board is reconvening," Rhodes' voice said through the door.
"Just give us a minute while the Captain freshens up," S'rR's shouted back, bringing a glass of water to Palmer's side and encouraging her to drink.
Rinsing her mouth, Palmer spat water into the toilet, before taking a few sips. She began to rise unsteadily, but S'rR's put an arm round her, lifting her effortlessly to her feet, and Palmer was once more reminded that like a Vulcan, the slender ambassador was considerably stronger than she looked.
Nodding her thanks, she smoothed her hair and straightened her uniform jacket, before stepping though into the conference lounge.
Admiral Cheliss looked up from his PADD, his gaze surveying all present.
"The board, after inquiring into all the facts and circumstances with the loss of the USS Valkyrie, which occasioned this inquiry, and having considered the evidence, finds as follows:
"The facts are: That there was a catastrophic failure of the anti-matter containment system aboard the USS Valkyrie.
"The opinions are: That the cause of the failure of the anti-matter containment system was disruption of the EPS system, caused by massive hull damage, sustained in combat against Fek'Ihri forces attempting an incursion into the Moab System, whilst in response to a distress call from the USS Tiburon.
"Captain Amanda Louise Palmer was not derelict in her duties and took all available precautions to ensure the safety of the officers and crew under her command.
"The injuries to Ensign T'Natra, Ensign Tilly Anne Campbell-Black, Lieutenant William Giovanni Mayer and Commander Bellic Chanos, which were caused by explosions of the EPS waveguides, occured in the line of duty, and were not the result of negligence on the part of Captain Palmer."
"It is the recommendation of this board that Captain Palmer be immediately restored to active status, with no reprimands to her record.
"Additionally, it is the recommendation of this board that she be immediately assigned to assume command of the USS Vanguard, with the former crew of the USS Valkyrie to remain under her command, and immediately assigned to serve at her leisure. This board of inquiry is now closed."
***
Palmer and her senior officers had been told to report to docking bay four, where they were met by Captain Grimes.
"Frank, good to see you again," she said. "What brings you here."
"As STS was responsible for constructing the Vanguard, and given my presence on Space Dock, I've been asked by the Admiralty to give you the guided tour," he said as they entered a large elevator with transparent aluminum walls. "It's an Eaves-Class tactical explorer, combining the research capabilities of the Nova-Class, with the size and speed of the Intrepid-Class, and the firepower of the Sovereign-Class. Twelve decks, fully integrated AI with photonic projection systems, and external ablative generators. Sustainable cruise velocity of warp nine point nine seven five, but additionally fitted with quantum slipstream drive, and transwarp capable, without having to ride in another ship's subspace wake. Hold onto your lunches, you're about to get the view..."
The interior walls of the turboshaft disappeared, affording the occupants of the turbolift with a dizzyingly unhindered view of the cavernous interior of Earth Space Dock. There were various ships docked, but only one caught their attention.
Tucked beside a Luna-Class undergoing hull repairs, was a sleek starship with slightly angular lines. Efficient-looking nacelles rose from the secondary hull at forty-five degree angles, reminiscent of the configurable nacelles of the Intrepid-Class, but that was not what drew the first comment:
"Where's the rest of the saucer?!" gasped Lieutenant Commander Meliden Bowen, her gaze fixed on the elongated torus of the primary hull: Two elliptical arcs beside a central spine, with considerable negative space between them.
Grimes raised an eyebrow in an almost-Vulcan expression.
"You like that?" he observed wryly. "We designed her around models of mathematically predictable trajectories of incoming weapons fire, then removed areas of statistically likely impact points across the saucer.
"In testing, multiple types of projected energy beams and torpedo passed clean through the torus without so much as a flicker of the running lights."
***
As the turbolift doors opened onto the rear of the bridge, Palmer's gaze was drawn to the quote on the dedication plaque.
"Our missions are peaceful...not for conquest. When we do battle, it is only because we have no choice." - James T. Kirk
She nodded in approval, before turning her attention to the bridge.
The layout was identical to that of the original Sovereign-Class bridge modules, but without seats accompanying the command chair.
"There's something here I think you'll appreciate," Grimes said, indicating a door to starboard, and Palmer's lips pulled into a broad grin. After thirteen years of commanding a starship, she finally had a readyroom.
"I think this will do nicely, Captain, she's a fine build, I'm sure she'll serve us well."
***
Eight hours after launching, Palmer was flipping through the personnel files, and saw that her entire crew had been transfered, as per Admiral Cheliss' order, when an internal memo flagged up on her screen:
Can I have a moment of your time?
Claire
"Always, Claire," she said, and the photonic interface shimmered into existence before Palmer's mahogany-edged desk, obscuring her view of a small gold model of the Valkyrie. "What can I do for you?"
"I have a rather disturbing matter to report, and due to the sensitive nature of the revalation, had to wait for you to be alone," Claire began, standing with her hands loosely clasped behind her back. "As you may recall, I was temporarily installed aboard the USS Reaper for reintegration and observation."
Palmer nodded.
"Are you experiencing any -- side effects from that experience?"
Claire shook her head and frowned.
"None, Captain, that is not the issue," she said. "While I was onboard, I encountered another hologram called Alice, who presented herself as the Reaper's photonic librarian. She seemed curious and sociable, so I engaged her in a conversation, which I found intentionally ingratiating and flirtatious, and strangely intrusive.
"While keeping her distracted with irrelevant chit chat and anecdotes, I examined her subroutines more carefully. It was when I examined her primary source code, that I discovered the code was written by a signatory named Delta, and unlike a standard photonic interface like an EMH, she had software links to every system on the ship which were undetectable by the ship's own systems."
"I don't quite follow," Palmer admitted. "Surely a photonic librarian would need to access a ships' systems in order to keep a current database?"
"Yes," Claire admitted. "But she wasn't an interface program designed as part of the computer's original architecture. She was an independantly installed program designated active location information collection engram.
"Forget that she's an engram, after all, we're all just engrams of one form or another, but actively collecting information on a location -- Captain, that is spying! I was able to access some of her peripheral archives, and Alice is no mere librarian, she is a Section 31 operative, and I believe she was responsible for the death of Captain Carter."
It had been a month since the Da Vinci had been towed back to Earth for decomissioning. A month, Arkos thought, since he had been forced to give up his first and only command. And a month since he had been consigned to the ranks of the walking dead that made up Starfleet's reserve roster on Earth Space Dock.
Losing the Da Vinci had hurt a lot more than Arkos had thought it would. She may have been a dilapidated little Miranda-class that had seen better days, but she had still been his ship. Under his command, the Da Vinci gone through a year's worth of adventures, engaging in exploration missions, military engagements against the Klingons, diplomatic tasks and and scientific investigations. He and the crew of the Da Vinci had made first contact with a race of polaron-based aliens, thwarted a Mirror Universe invasion, and had even been shunted back in time. For the longest time, that ship had been his home, and its crew his family. Leaving the Da Vinci behind, to use one of those flowery metaphors that the Humans were so fond of, felt like tearing off his own arm.
Since that time, he had been stuck here on Earth Spacedock, having been put on official standby by Admiral Quinn. He had had to endure almost an entire month of having absolutely no orders, and had passed what time he could assisting the Dock Engineers in odd jobs, reviewing and approving lower-level administrative requests, and passing down drinks in the Captain's Lounge. Perhaps a little too many drinks, if he was honest, despite his race's fortitude against toxins. He had tried to keep in touch with his crew...sorry, former crew as much as he could, but had found that most of his former duty officers had been shifted away to other ships and other Captains, never to be seen or heard from by him again. As for his senior officers, Neazri Sann had been enjoying a sightseeing tour all across Earth, and Farim Meru had taken the month to go visit her parents and partner on Bajor. Adim Johr, at least, was still on Earth Spacedock, and he had met with the Andorian frequently to trade drinks, conversation, and the latest news in warp-drive inertial theory and kinetic buffer design ideas. And K'Nera...the last Arkos had heard, his First Officer was on the shortlist for her own command. She deserved it, Arkos knew, especially after putting up with him for almost a year.
After a month of being a shipless Captain on ESD, Arkos began to suspect that he must have slipped through the cracks of Starfleet administration and been forgotten about. The approval list for getting a new ship was as long as his arm, and he knew that new ships weren't being built that quickly anymore since the Utopia Planetia raid. It didn't help that other, more experienced captains were obviously being given priority. He had almost given up hope, resigned himself to a life of administrative paperwork, and had started contemplating early retirement to Risa, when he suddenly recieved a communique from Admiral Quinn's office one day. Report to Commander Sissel at the Shipyard immediately. And be sure you have your Captain's pips on.
There, waiting for him in the shipyard, had been his new command.
In front of him was the massive viewport of the shipyard, the reinforced plexiglass giving a sublime view of the immense, cavernous expanse of the Spacedock itself. Arkos could see starships of every single class and designation moored within-- the stately shapes of Galaxy and Sovereign-class heavy cruisers lay docked to the walls and low-handing alcoves, the small, pugnacious shape of a Vigilant-class escort drifting past, and the shimmering, forcefield-encased form of a Horizon-class science ship running a level two diagnostic. A squadron of Peregrine fighters flew in perfect formation past some worker bee shuttles mending a damaged Akira-class escort, and in the background, Arkos could see the imemnse, swan-like shape of an Odyssey-class command cruiser moored next to the more squat bulk of a Typhoon-class dreadnought. The might of Starfleet was assembled at anchor, here for all of the onlookers to see and admire.
But Arkos was focused on the a ship visible in the lower right corner of the dockyard. There, dwarfed by some of its more massive neighbours, sat a medium cruiser, undergoing some final refits. Its triangular, arrow-like body ended with an elegant loop at its aft that gave it a streamlined, graceful look. Its hull was a dark, polished silver that seemed to reflect the glossy blue glow of the engine strata from its four fluted, double-jointed nacelles. The ship looked sleek, modern, and despite its comparatively small size, sturdy and manouverable. It was the exact sort of ship Arkos had always dreamed of commanding when he had been in the Academy.
"A beauty, isn't she?" Adim Johr said next to him. The former chief engineer of the Da Vinci had been waiting for him here in the shipyard. He had gotten the same message that Arkos had, and he had been there to confirm to him that it was all true. Arkos Nair, the only Korda serving in Starfleet, was getting his second command. The dreams coming true hadn't ended there, though-- apparently, all of the senior officers of the Da Vinci were being reassigned to this new ship as well. Adim, K'Nera, Sann, Farim...even Dr. Zimmerman, as the old EMH program of the Da Vinci had apparently already been uploaded onto the new ship. Arkos couldn't have been happier: while it was great in and of itself to be getting a new ship, the fact that he would be serving with people he knew and trusted was even better. We're all one happy family, reunited again...
Arkos nodded to the Andorian. "Krelk, Adim, those are, what, Mark XIII conversion nacelles on a Dakota-class hull?" he observed. "And by the looks of things, they're busy renovating the beam arrays and deflector as well..."
Adim passed him a PADD, grinning. "It looks like your birthday came early this year," he chuckled.
Taking the PADD, Arkos scrolled through it briefly. It was an inventory of updated...and in some cases, experimental...systems that had been implemented onto this ship for a trial run. Modified AEGIS-pattern shield buffers and deflector grid, Omega-pattern hyper-impulse engines, level 10 tetraburnium hull plates, MkX EPS flow regular, SIF generator and plasma distribution manifold...and although the ship had been equipped with top-notch mkX phasers and quantum torpedoes, there were requisition forms available for polarized tetryon arrays, transphasic mine launchers and something called the "Javelin" project. All of which, Arkos saw, had been signed and stamped with the approval of the Corps of Engineers and Starfleet Command.
He paused. There was also something else-- an appended sub-file at the corner. Opening it, Arkos found himself reading an attached waiver by the Corps, indicating that, due to the eperimental nature of much of the ship's equipment, a higher than usual hazard level had been assigned to the ship's status. To put it plainly, the less careful Arkos and his crew were with the experimental upgrades, the more likey they would be promoted to free-floating atoms in subspace.
Arkos knew he should have been unnerved by this status. Instead, it made him want to take this ship for a spin all the more. A new starship with experimental systems...the engineer in him was practically giddy with excitement.
"Apparently, she used to be standard Dakota-class before they brought her in for refitting," Adim went on. "There was some top-down redressing of the ranks...I don't know the details, but her old captain has been either been discharged or promoted. Most of the ship's original crew are still aboard, though they're also bringing in other transfers from the reserve list. Right now, they're trying to phase her in as a new hybrid cruiser, combining the combat functionality of the Dakota hull with the improved engines of the Stargazer-cass. There have been only two such hybrids made so far, but the guys at the Corps have already nicknamed it the La Forge-type."
The name made Arkos grin. "About time. He wrote the book we read in the Academy, after all." He set the PADD down. "So I've gone from inheriting a dilapated old Miranda that no one wanted, to a potentially hazardous hybrid cruiser that could blow up one day." He smiled as he gazed again at the distant cruiser. "Does Admiral Quinn have it in for me I wonder?"
"What can I say, you're clearly touched by the hand of destiny," Adim joked. "You can refuse this commission if you want, Captain. Myself, I can't wait to get my hands on her ample, curvy warp reactor."
"Krak you, Adim," Arkos scoffed with a chuckle. It still marvelled him that the Universal Translator filtered out Korda swear words. "The day you command a starship is the day I grow hair."
The Andorian laughed. "Then hopefully, in ten years time, you're going to be the hairiest Korda in the galaxy," he retorted to his bald, grey-skinned captain. "Anyway, I think we've gawked at the ship long enough. Want to see what she looks like on the inside?"
Arkos nodded. He turned, making for the nearby transporter room, when his eye caught the lettering on the cruiser's hull. U.S.S. ARCHIMEDES. "What is it with Starfleet and its obsession with Human history?" he wondered aloud, reminded more than a little of Sann and her own interest in the history of that alien species.
Adim shrugged. "Beats me. If it were down to me, I'd call her something sensible like the Shran."
"Said every single Andorian I've ever met," Arkos scoffed. "Anyway, I kind of like the name. It has a nice sound to it."
Adim took one last glance of his own at the distant cruiser. "I don't know...aren't you afraid of the alliteration? 'Captain Arkos Nair of the U.S.S. Archimedes."
Arkos simply smiled. "As you said...its clearly destiny."
****
An hour later, Arkos stood behind the desk of what was going to be his future ready room, and went over the renovations in his mind.
He had been taking a full tour of the ship, and already, he liked what he was seeing. The interior was spacious, clean, and had that nice new ship smell to it, and there was none of the signs of ageing that had been ever-present on the Da Vinci. He was still in the process of meeting all the crew-- both from the Archimedes' original compliment and the new transferees. He hoped to get to know them before long-- he imagined that the original crew members might have a hard time adapting to a new command staff, and he wanted to make sure that transition went as smoothly as possible.
There were still renovations to be made, of course. For instance, the bare room he was in was in dire need of decoration. Maybe a holographic portrait of his kin and homeworld there, a perpetual motion machine over there...now that he thought of it, maybe an advanced replicator so that he could do some experimenting and building in his spare time. He had already brought his favourite desk ornament over from the Da Vinci-- a cluster of small, metallic spheres, each outitted with an antigrav levitation mechanism and geosynchronous stabilizers. Already, the seven of them hovered above his desk, orbiting one another in a slow, lazy drift. Smiling, Arkos reached his hand between them and waved, and the spheres, responding to the outside stimuli, swirled around in a quick, whirlwind-like circumnavigation of his arm.
The door chime beeped suddenly, causing him to jump. His arm jerked back, the sudden motion sending the spheres to flying outwards in all directions, slamming into walls and crashing into furniture. One sphere slammed into a stack of boxes, spilling living essentials all over the bare floor. Another slammed into his forehead, almost flooring him.
"Krellik!" Arkos swore, clutching his bruised forehead. He took a few seconds to wince before he reclined back in his chair. "Come in!" he said, noticing only afterward how aggravated his voice sounded.
The door hissed open, and a Ferengi came walking into his quarters. Like all most Ferengi, the newcomer was short and squat, with a compressed face and massive nose framed by a pair of elephantine ears and a bald, bumpy crown. The only difference was that this Ferengi, unlike every other that Arkos had seen, was wearing the black and red jumpsuit of a Starfleet tactical uniform and a lieutenant's pips.
"Sorry to interrupt..." the Ferengi paused, noting the disarray of the room. "...whatever it is that you were doing, sir, but I believe you wanted to brief all the officers?" The Ferengi's voice was gruff and slightly sibiliant due to his needle teeth.
Arkos was painfully aware of how messy the ready room looked now, in the wake of the accident. He rubbed his throbbing forehead as he straightened himself up in his chair. "Um...yes, I was, Mr..."
The Ferengi's expression remained aloof as he passed Arkos a PADD. "Brax, Sir. Lieutenant Brax. I'm here to fill the role of the Archimedes' head of security."
Arkos raised a nonexistent eyebrow as he continued to rub his throbbing skull. "Head of security?"
"Yes sir," Brax said. "As well, of course, as secondary Tactical bridge positions. You'll find I am fully qualified for such positions."
"Er...right. At ease." Sitting down on the chair, Arkos took a deep, pained sigh, activated the PADD and began to scroll through the information. He had hoped the evaluation of transferees could begin later. Much, much later. "In that case, Mr. Brax...tell me about yourself."
The Ferengi relaxed his posture, folding his arms behind his back in a classic Starfleet pose. "Well, sir, I was serving as a security officer on the U.S.S. Dresden for two months prior to my reassignment. It's all there in the report, sir, along with my previous relevant experience."
Arkos reclined further in his chair as he read Brax's career summary. "Hmm...twelve seizures of contraband from crew...personally broke up five fights and brought seven disruptive crewmen to the brig...served for a year prior as a security official on Drozana Station and eight years as a Judicator with the Law Enforcement Guild on Ferenginar." He raised an eyebrow as he pored over the lengthy resume.
"Yes sir," Brax confirmed with a curt nod.
Arkos scrolled further as more details of Brax's resume sparked his interest. "It says here that on Drozana you personally apprehended and locked up a drunk and disorderly Nausicaan." He glanced up quizzically at Brax. "How..."
Brax shrugged. "Interesting story, sir. Did you know that Nausicaans have very vulnerable kneecaps?"
Blinking a few times as he tried to imagine and believe that statement, Arkos gave up and looked back at the datapad. "And, according to this, you recieved several commendations on Ferenginar as well as two consecutive promotions and five pay-raises." He nodded to himself. "Not bad. Not bad at all, Mr. Brax."
A faint smile pulled up at the corner of Brax's lips. "Thank you, sir.
Arkos set the PADD down and looked Brax in the eye. "Now, if you don't mind my asking, Mr. Brax...why did you leave the Ferengi Law Enforcement Guild in the first place?" Although there were plenty of Ferengi serving in Starfleet, they were usually the young, adventurous variety who had less concern for profit than their elders. Brax, given that he was thirty four in Earth Standard Years, certainly didn't fall into that category.
Brax's aloof presentation faltered as the Ferengi shifted uncomfortably, like a child who had been caught misbehaving.. "Rrright. Well. Partly it's the standard reason everyone else joins Starfleet: to explore, to discover strange new worlds, and...all that other stuff."
Arkos nodded sagely. "Right. The standard reason everyone gives at the Academy. But what about the real reason?"
The Ferengi looked even more uncomfortable now. "Well...what the report doesn't mention, sir, is that I had a...difference of opinion with my superiors."
The statement made Arkos lean forwards a little. "What sort of difference of opinion?"
"Well, sir...as a Judicator, I was attached to the Homicide and Special Victims Units," Brax explained. "During that time, I had to deal with the very worst of Ferengi society. You know, the...part that most Ferengi like to pretend doesn't exist. The murderers, the rapists, the psychopaths...the really bad stuff, sir. I had to deal with and investigate some pretty awful cases, and I think during that time I made about thirty or fifty arrests. Do you know how many of those arrests stuck?"
Arkos shook his head. "How many?"
Brax held up his fingers. "Ten," he said, a look of disgust crossing his compressed features. "And that was only because they were too destitute to pay off the judge. I saw a lot of those murderers, rapists, child abusers, drug traffickers and psychopaths all walk right out back into the city, simply because they were able to pay the necessary fines." His expression tightened. "A good Ferengi, sir, is supposed to look the other way when latinum is passed onto the table, but after a while, sir, I found that I couldn't be a good Ferengi any longer."
"In other words, you had a conscience."
Brax chuckled a little and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Blame Nagus Rom and his reforms if you have to, sir, for some reason I had this crazy idea that justice should not be bought off easily." He slumped his shoulders. "Of course, my superiors disagreed, so one day I quit the force, and left Ferenginar entirely."
"And moved to Drozana," Arkos said, glancing back at the resume.
"Yes sir. I carried out a variety of odd jobs there. Private detective. Security guard. Hired gun." His expression soured again. "And, erm...let's simply say, sir, that my time on Drozana influenced my decision to join Starfleet considerably. In Starfleet, at least, I don't have anyone wanting to break my legs over outstanding debts."
Arkos smiled a little at this point. At the very least, Brax seemed honest, which wasn't something he could say about most Ferengi he had met. "Well, that is a very insightful story. Mr. Brax," he said, "but if you don't mind my asking, Lieutenant...why should I approve of your assignment to my ship?" It wasn't that he had anything against the Ferengi, personally, and he was very sure that Brax was just as competent and reliable as his record said he was. However, Brax wasn't the only possible candidate for the position of Security Officer, and he wanted to hear how well the Ferengi could make his case.
Brax seemed to recognize this as well, and instantly adopted the tone of a salesman making a pitch. "Well, sir, as has already been pointed out, I have several years of experience in law enforcement and investigative work. And, you'll note, I went through the Academy with top marks in Tactical operations."
The Captain shrugged. "All of which could be said of other candidates," he replied.
The Ferengi didn't waver, flashing Arkos a needle-toothed smile. "And finally, sir...I think I can be invaluable to you in acquiring assets for the ship."
The comment left Arkos frowning. That wasn't the sort of answer he had been expecting. "What are you talking about?"
"Rule of Acquisition #7, sir: 'keep your ears open.'" Brax gestured to his own over-sized ears as he said this. "I know about the...interesting methods you used during your captaincy of the Da Vinci to keep your ship well-equipped, especially when Starfleet had so few resources to spare for you."
Arkos felt a cold sweat come over him. He had done his best to keep all of those illicit dealings a secret over the years-- the backroom deals and favours with traders and less-than-scrupulous Starfleet quartermasters at places like K-7 and Deep Space Nine. How the krelk had Brax learned about all of that? He tried to give Brax an excuse, but his mouth failed him, and all he could say was "I...that's..."
"Oh, it's not a condemnation, sir," Brax said. "Far from it: I can't help but admire your resourcefulness. You were stuck with a bureacracy that you couldn't rely on, and so you impovised to make sure your ship could carry out its duties effectively. A very Ferengi attitude of you, sir, if I may say so." He clapped his hands together. "And that's why I think I can make myself useful to you, Captain Nair. I have a lot of old contacts from my time on Ferenginar and Drozana, and...no offence, sir, but unlike you I have business acumen. I'll be able to help you keep the Archimedes well equipped well stocked when Starfleet is simply too busy."
Arkos made no reply at first as he stared in disbelief at Brax. A part of him felt more intimidated than anything else. Brax knew things about him that could end his career in a heartbeat. And yet, at the same time, he was rather impressed that Brax had found out about his dealings in the first place-- it illustrated that the Ferengi had a knack for finding things out. Besides which, any other Ferengi would have used this information to blackmail him...but Brax hadn't made any demands. The only thing he seemed to genuinely want was a Security position on this ship.
Arkos made a snap decision. Perhaps it would be better, in the long run, to keep Brax on the ship where he could keep an eye on him.
"I hope you're speaking hypothetically, Mr. Brax," Arkos said, doing his best to remain aloof as he leaned back in his chair.
Brax simply gave a curt nod. "Of course sir. Hypothetically."
Taking a deep breath, Arkos nodded in turn. "Good. In that case, Mr. Brax, so long as you pull your weight on this ship, I think you and I will get along just fine."
Smiling widely, Brax made an officious bow. "Thank you, sir. I promise you won't be disappointed."
"I'll be the judge of that. Report to your stations, Lieutenant. Dismissed."
Brax made a sharp salute, turned, and left the ready room. The moment the Ferengi left, Arkos slumped against his seat. The headache he had been suffering from earlier had returned, with a vengeance.
"Computer, some ice cubes, please," he told the replicator. He couldn't shake the feeling that there would be more surprises in store for him today.
The words that no one speaks
About the night before
She stares off at the road
Her finger taps the door
I'd hate to judge if roles reverse
You'd think so too
She'd seen the film before
But stayed until the end
She had him to herself
Perhaps as more than friends
Maybe I'd do things differently
If I were you
Your pulse, it races with mine
And I swear that there's no other girl
Your body shakes, it's like tonight
We can take the world
Your pulse, it races with mine
And I swear we can take the world
His hand against her cheek
Her tongue against his neck
She says, "You're awfully sweet
I feel like we connect"
Maybe it's love, how would she know?
And would she tell?
Their clothes, they go on slow
She thinks of what to say
He whispers in her ear
She smiles and looks away
Her heart, it screams, she grabs his hands
And says, "Me too"...
Is this the life
The one you imagined?
Is this the life
The one from your dreams?...
"And then this is our quarters," Captain Ssharki concluded the tour of his ship.
Bekk Sway looked around the large master cabin. A huge bed stood in the center of the room - a proper bed, with a real mattress and thermal covers - not the hard slab of solid metal the Klingons slept on. There was a smaller, lower, equally comfortable-looking bed against the opposite wall. "Is that for me?" he asked, pointing.
"Yes. If... you want your own quarters at any point, just tell-"
"NO!" Sway exclaimed. He cleared his throat. "I mean, no need. This is perfect. Thank you, father."
Ssharki smiled. He was about to say something when his communicator beeped. He tapped it. "Ssharki here," he growled.
"Captain, we are ready to beam you down to Lady Sirella's home in the Ketha Lowlands."
"Acknowledged. I will report to transporter room two momentarily." He looked down at his recently-adopted son. "Will you be alright on your own for tonight?"
Sway gave a smile he didn't really feel. "I was on my own for five years before you found me. Another night won't hurt."
Ssharki could sense the old pain and sadness in his son's voice and it hurt him deeply. "This isn't how I want to begin our time together. I should contact Sirella and tell her-"
"It's okay father, really," Sway assured him. "You have your duties to attend to. I understand that. And at least you got me out of that hell-hole. That means a lot to me."
Ssharki nodded, feeling torn. He wanted so much to be there for young Sway. But life had taught Sway in the cruelest way how to take care of himself. And the meeting with the Lady of the House of Martok was important... "I probably won't be back before midnight. I'll see you in the morning, my son."
"Arright. Goodnight, father." Sway watched his new parent leave, then explored the rest of the cabin. There were the traditional Four Candles on a shelf, but only the first and fourth were lit, and the fourth had burnt down the lowest. He knew Ssharki had lost his own family before he was adopted. He decided he'd have to ask him about the other two - the ones representing Service and Honor. There was a large closet, with plenty of room for Sway's clothes and gear, which were already unpacked, including a brand-new duty uniform. Sway removed his tunic and hung that up. He also removed his belt, tore off the stupid loincloths and looked for somewhere to throw them away. He spotted a replicator and a table. He recycled his strips of useless fabric and requested a bowl of mint chip ice cream. He was somewhat surprised when it materialized without any hesitation, but then he remembered there were several Humans and Human-hybrids on the ship's crew.
The doorbell toned. Sway looked up. "Come in?" The door clanged open. Bekk Naja stood there. She had also removed her Academy uniform, and was wearing only a white synth-cotton top, black leather pants and soft boots. "Naja, enter! What do you want?" he asked his friend in Klingon.
"I wanted to see your quarters," she said, in English. "And please, use the Human language when you talk to me, Sway. I'm trying to practice." Because the majority of the Norgh'Iw's crew were non-Klingons (and over half of those were Gorn) Ssharki had ordered English to be the standard language spoken aboard ship.
"You speak it very well," Sway told her. He pointed to his ice cream. "Do you want some?"
"Sure!" she said with a smile. She looked around the room while Sway replicated her a dish. "This is a very nice place."
"Well, it is the Captain's cabin," Sway said as he set the bowl down across the table.
Naja moved the bowl next to him and sat. "This is better than what we had at the Academy," she said after tasting the dessert.
"Yeah. I wonder who programmed it?"
"There was a half-Human in the biology lab earlier," Naja remarked. "I'll ask her tomorrow."
"How do you like it?" Sway asked. "Biology I mean. Not exactly a warrior's calling."
"Not all Klingons are called to be warriors," Naja reminded him. "I thought you knew that by now. Besides, if we encounter a new race of hostile aliens, Captain Ssharki will rely on us to learn how to defeat them."
"Makes sense."
They finished eating. Sway recycled the bowls while Naja went over to his bed. "This is where you sleep?"
"Yeah."
She sat down. "It's soft."
"The Gorn prefer to sleep on something soft. I know, the Klingons have no need for comfort, but most other civilized species do prefer it."
"I actually agree with you," Naja admitted. "I'll have to see about getting a bed like this."
Sway sat down next to her. "It's good to be out of the Academy, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Thank you for talking to your father, Sway. I don't know what would have happened to me if I stayed there without you."
"I... had another reason for wanting you on the same ship with me." Sway scooted closer. "I, um, I like... being around you."
Naja smiled and pulled him to her, laying the back of his head down in her lap as she gently stroked his crest. "Say what you wanted to tell me, lizard."
"Um." He shifted his hips uncomfortably. A small bulge was forming at the front of his pants. Naja noticed, rested her free hand on it squeezed. Sway gasped. "I... I love you, Naja."
"I love you too, Sweet Delight." She pulled her hands back and removed her shirt.
Sway sat up in alarm. "What are you doing?"
"I want to do something with you," she answered as she leaned towards him. She kissed his snout and said "Something I've wanted to do for a long time, but we never had the privacy. Don't worry, I shaved my body for you. I know hair makes you uncomfortable."
Sway eyed her suspiciously. "You're not about to initiate mating in the traditional Klingon way, are you?"
She nuzzled his nose with hers. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle. And I won't bite. Not too hard, anyway." She nibbled the tip of his snout.
"Well, okay." Sway tilted his mouth to meet hers and licked her lips. They parted, and their tongues locked.
Naja carefully laid Sway flat on his bed, their bare chests pressing against each other, while they licked each other's faces. Then she started kissing his pale chest and belly, working her way down toward his waist. "When will your father return?"
"Midnight," he whispered, "at the earliest."
"Good. That should give us enough time." She peeled off his straining pants, and lowered her head.
"Aaahh!" he shrieked and shivered. "I've never done anything like this before, with anyone-"
She sat up and giggled. "Me neither. I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm just happy I found this down here and not some sort of... I don't know what."
Sway sat up, hooked his hands under her arms, and laid back, pulling her on top of himself as she kicked off her boots and wriggled out of her pants. "I think I know the basics of how this works," he said.
The two sixteen-year-olds made love slowly, both unsure of themselves, neither quite understanding how to stimulate the other. They took their time exploring one another's bodies. They got a little rough with each other, but not enough to send someone to sick bay. The sex lasted for over two hours, before Sway was totally spent. He flopped back on his bed, panting. Naja lay next to him, stroking his crest. "So whadidja think?" she whispered.
"That was... incredible," he squeaked back.
"I thought so too." She kissed the ridge along his cheek and draped half of her body over him. "Sway?"
He started scratching her areola. He figured out early in their biological exploration that she liked that. "Hmm?"
"When did you first know you loved me?"
"Um. I dunno. I always liked you. I mean, you were the only one there at the Academy who seemed to like me, so... I dunno," he said again. He thought a moment and answered "I guess I knew for sure I loved you that first time you touched my crest... remember, the night you brough to the infirmary? I flinched, you yanked your hand back and apologized, I said it was okay, and then you - ever so gently - touched me there again, just like you are now."
"I remember." She nuzzled the side of his face.
He rested his hand on her cheek. "It was... the first time I'd been touched in a way that felt good since my parents died."
She licked the soft scales of his throat and said "I realized it the same night, right when you asked me why I was nice to you. But really, I'd been attracted to you all along. And then when you killed J'ngev - I mean Junk," she giggled, using Sway's nickname for the alpha bully, "when you killed him for hurting me, I knew I had to have you, no matter what."
Sway hadn't killed Junk because he'd hurt Naja. He challenged him to a duel of honor because he'd hurt Naja. Sway had killed the bully just because he could. He kept that to himself, though.
"Something I've been wondering, though." Naja leaned up on her elbow to look Sway in his eyes. "You waited until then to stand up to them. Why didn't you stand up for yourself before?"
"I thought about it," Sway admitted. "In fact at one point I tried to buy a wide-beam disruptor from S'kaa. But I decided it wasn't worth it. I let them hurt me, because I was tough enough to take it, and I knew if I fought back they'd just hit me harder. But then they hurt you, someone I cared about, someone I loved, and I... I couldn't take that. Losing you would've been like... losing my parents again."
"Aw, Sway..." Naja started to tear up.
They young Gorn nuzzled her with his snout. "Seeing you in the infirmary, after what Junk and the others did to you, made me mad enough that I had to fight back. And you know what? It felt good." He rolled his head back. "Just pulling Junk out of his chair to challenge him felt good. Beating him in the mok'bara ring felt even better. And then killing him with his own d'k tahg..." he closed his eyes and sighed with satisfaction at the memory. "I will treasure every moment of his death forever."
Naja didn't know what to say to that. She stared at him for several minutes, unmoving. Then she noticed his deep, rhythmic breathing and realized he'd fallen asleep. "Sway?" He didn't answer. He was in a deep slumber. She lay down on her side and made herself comfortable, and watched her little lover sleep. "Good night, my Sweet Delight," she whispered.
* * *
Ssharki had almost forgotten Sway was in his cabin. An understandable oversight, considering that he'd drunk half a case of bloodwine on his own while the various members and advisors of the House of Martok regaled him with tales of their family's deeds. He entered his chamber and ordered "Lights." The various illuminators in is room activated. He saw the sleeping bodies in the second bed at the same time his ears registered the sound of snoring, alerting him to the presence of sleeping youngsters. "Lights off!" he hissed. The room was darkened.
Bodies? While he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he tried to process what he'd seen. Two heads on a pillow, not one. He distinctly saw the pointed green and scaly snout of young Sway. But the other head was covered in long black hair, and was attached to the bare shoulder and arm of a brown-skinned humanoid, and that arm was draped around his son's neck... he sniffed the air, and smelled Klingon sweat, and... something else. Once Ssharki's natural night vision was fully activated he crept up to the boy's bed to examine the other occupant. It was a Klingon female, about Sway's age, although obviously twice as physically mature. She was cuddling Sway and she was smiling. They were both smiling. Her name came to him, from a conversation he'd had with his son and an assignment order he'd signed. Naja.
So my son has already taken a mate? This mammal he said was his friend? Ssharki stared at the pair in the dark, amused. I shall have to talk with him in the morning. He licked his fingertip and rubbed it on his son?s snout, and turned to his own bed. He removed his clothes, crawled under the covers, and immediately fell asleep.
Four hours later
Naja awoke with a start. Sway was cuddled against her chest, but she heard snoring behind her... Captain Ssharki! She whipped her head around and saw two huge, three-toed feet protruding from beneath the covers of the other bed. The Captain had obviously ignored her presence in his room. She decided to get out while she could. She kissed Sway again and searched for her clothes, put them on as best she could in the dark, and ran out carrying her boots.
She slipped into her own room, trying to avoid waking up her Orion roommate and failing. Bekk Dejera had just come off her shift a short time ago. "Where the hell have you been?" the Orion girl asked.
"Out," Naja replied, as she removed her sweat-soaked undershirt. "Sorry for waking you."
Dejera sniffed. "You smell like sex. Computer, lights."
The lights illuminated Naja, her shirt off, her torso covered with scratches and bite marks, and the pants she was wearing were clearly not hers.
"Whoa," Dejera murmured. "Girl, who did that to you? And can I meet him?"
Morning
Sway woke up in bed alone, and heard his father up and moving around. "Computer, time?" he whispered.
"The time is 0718 hours," the computer loudly announced.
"Hey, son, you up?" his father called from the other end of the room.
"Yeah."
"Good. I was gonna wake you in another minute or two. Your duty shift starts in forty minutes, you know."
"Yeah."
"Get cleaned up and dressed and come eat. The cooks already brought up breakfast."
"Okay." Sway obeyed, rinsing his sticky body in his father's sonic shower. He felt a little sore ? not the I just got beat up kind of sore, more like the that was a great workout sort of sore. He put on his new duty uniform and approached the table. He saw Naja's pants folded up and sitting on one of the chairs. Uh-oh, he thought.
"So I noticed you had company last night," Ssharki announced as he dished up a plate of scrambled pterous eggs and grilled pflaam heart for his son.
"Um, yeah." Sway sat, still staring at Naja's folded pants.
"You really like Naja, don't you?"
The boy looked up. "I... I love her, father."
Ssharki scooped a sporkful of eggs into his mouth and washed it down with a gulp of zilm'kach juice. "You said she treated you well at the Academy."
"It was more than that," Sway admitted. "We both loved each other. We just... couldn't, in that place."
"I understand. So as soon as you were alone together you mated with her."
"Basically."
"Did she initiate?" Ssharki asked.
"Yes, but I wanted to do it too."
"Did you like it? Do you want to it with her again?"
Sway nodded.
"Eat, son." Ssharki chewed a piece of spongy pflaam heart in silence while he thought things through. He wasn't sure how to discourage his son from seeing the Klingon female, or even if he should. "You know, the first mate I ever took was a mammal," he told the youngster. "A Human - my best friend's older sister. We were eighteen - just a couple years older than you and Naja. We didn't love each other though. We were both just... curious. We were only together the one time."
Sway ate his food and gazed at his father, waiting for him to continue.
"Sway, I know how difficult things must have been for you at the Academy. I'm glad you had this relationship with Naja to get you through it."
"I don't know where I'd be without her," Sway said.
"Well, now you're out of there, and you don't have to worry about anybody hurting you." Ssharki finished his juice. "You may find you're more interested in your own species. There are several Gorn females on this ship, and a few of them who aren't much older than you. And there are a lot of mammals who would be more... compatible with Naja."
"We love each other," Sway insisted. "Nothing will change that."
"All I'm saying is you both might want to step back and look around. This is your first time - probably Naja's too. Talk to her about it. But if you both want to continue as lovers, I will give you my blessings."
Sway nodded. "Thank you, father."
Ssharki stood. "Come here, son." Sway did, and his father embraced him, holding the boy's head to his heart. "Know that whatever happens between you and Naja, I will always love you. That will never change." He knelt and nuzzled the youngster's snout with his own. "Now then, Bekk Sway, you are to report to Lieutenant Commander Lan in the forward armory for your first duty assignment." He stood and struck his chest and said "Qapla'!"
Sway returned the salute. "Qapla', father!" He went to the door.
"Bekk," Ssharki called after him. "This should go without saying, but your relationships - with me, Naja, or anyone else - must never interfere with your duties aboard this ship."
Sway nodded. "Of course, sir."
* * *
The young Gorn made his way to the forward armory and identified LCdr. Lan son of Krad by his decorated sash. "Bekk Sway reporting for duty, sir," he said with a salute.
Lan returned it. "Qapla', Bekk!" The tall, frizzy-haired Klingon inspected the Bekk's uniform and nodded his approval. "The Captain has instructed me that you are to receive no special treatment. As far as we are concerned, you are simply the most junior security officer on the staff."
"Understood, sir."
Lan gave a curt nod. "Form up!" Sway joined the other security officers gathering in the room. The ship's computer sounded a long tone, indicating change-of-watch. "Warriors of the Klingon Empire!" Lan called out. "The security assignments for the day shift are as follows:
"Lieutenant Shurab! Warrior Atzik!" A male Orion and an unkempt Nausicaan stepped forward. "The Captain will be entertaining some of his 'clients' this afternoon. You are to make security arrangements prior to their arrival. Speak with Commander Maddox for the details.
"Lt. Shagasham! First Reader!" A Gorn female and a telepathic Ferasan male came up. "Random inspection of crew quarters, search and seizure of contraband.
"Warrior Shralak!" A Gorn male, about ten years older than Sway. "Take the contraband recovered by the last watch and the raiding parties and turn it over to the First City authorities.
"Scout Sergeant! Warrior Hrkki!" Two male Ferasans, one a mountain clanner, the named one from the lowlands. "You are to represent your ship alongside Patriarch-of-the-High-Glades M'Ri at an upcoming trial-by-combat to be held on Ferasa. Pack for five days, and report to shuttlebay two.
"Lieutenant Bedza!" An expressionless Lethean looked up. "There are prisoners in the brig that require your attention.
"Lieutenant Gokran!" An older Klingon male stood at attention. "First of all, congratulations on placing in the B'aht Qul tournament yesterday. Captain Ssharki has approved your request to join several of your shipmates on a pilgrimage to Boreth - you depart first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I would like for you to instruct Bekk Sway on shipboard security procedures and protocols. I am told he is a quick study. At thirteen-hundred, you may relieve me as Security Officer of the Watch so that I and the Bekk may accompany the inspection team for his further education.
"The rest of you - Warriors Tavano, Braktan, Reed and Samaya - are on general security detail unless something else comes up. Qapla'!"
Sway and the other officers returned the salute in chorus.
* * *
Sway was indeed a fast learner, and already familiar with KDF regulations and security procedures from his time at the Academy. He impressed Lt. Gokran with his retentive memory and his easy grasp of the reasons behind the rules.
At 1230 they broke for lunch. "We take a half-hour lunch when duty permits, between eleven and fourteen hundred hours," Gokran explained as they walked into the mess hall.
Sway looked around for Naja but didn't see her, so he joined the other security officers at a table toward the middle of the room. Security was prestigious duty on a KDF ship.
Before he could sit down, an Orion female approached him. "Hey there, cutie." She grabbed the sides of his head licked his crest. He shivered. It felt good, but really weird at the same time. He heard hoots and howls from around the room. She released him and gave him a lusty grin. "Be seein' ya," she said as she sauntered off.
Sway was confused, embarrassed and aroused all at once. "What the... did she just-"
"Yeah, she did," Gokran told him. "She wants you."
"That didn't take long, did it?" Wr. Shralak asked rhetorically. He looked at Sway and explained "Samaya there isn't particularly choosy about her mates."
The others all laughed, including Gokran. "And there's Shralak, displaying his wonderfully understated sense of humor - which is the only reason any of us puts up with the lazy lout. I mean all he ever does is turn in contraband, then he just loafs around the rest of the day..."
"I always draw that assignment because I'm the only one who can do it without dropping an entire case of Romulan Ale right in front of the Great Hall, Gokran."
The lieutenant protested amid howls of derisive laughter. "I told you, I was drunk! I was carrying two cases..."
"And stories like that are why we all put up with you drinking on duty," Shralak said.
"And why does everyone put up with Samaya sleeping around?" Sway wondered.
The laughter stopped. "You're kidding, right?" Shralak asked incredulously. "Do any of senses work? I mean she practically buried your snout in her cleavage."
"Nobody cares what you do off-duty, Sway," Gokran told him. "And when a beautiful creature like Samaya walks up to you after watch, pumps pheromones up your nostrils, grabs your qIv and says 'Let's go' what man or woman among us can resist?"
Sway looked around the table at all the knowing nods. Klingon, Orion, Gorn, Human, Lethean, Ferasan... "All of you?" More nods. "Gross!"
"Well, everyone but Stinky down there," Shralak pointed to Atzik, the Nausicaan. "The girl at least has hygienic standards."
1754 hours
Sway found Naja's quarters and pressed the buzzer. She opened the door. "There you are!" she exclaimed. "I was wondering when you'd show up!"
"Sorry," Sway apologized. "I would've come for you sooner, but I had to hide from a promiscuous Orion."
"Isn't that kinda redundant?"
"I heard that!" Dejera protested from the back of the room. She walked to the door to get a look at her roommate's romantic interest. "This little guy is your date? Really?"
"This 'little guy' picked up a Klingon twice his size, threw him into a wall, beat him at mok'bara three falls to none, and then killed him with his own d'k tahg, all because he'd insulted me." Naja informed the Orion as she stroked Sway's crest.
"He did a bit more than insult you-" Sway started to say.
"Whatever. I'm hungry. Let's get dinner."
Sway hooked his arm around hers. "I was just going to suggest that."
"Your quarters?"
"I was thinking the mess hall," Sway answered, "unless you'd rather keep our relationship private."
Naja laughed. "Are you kidding? I don't care what anyone thinks. Not anymore. Let the whole stupid world know that I'm a lizard-lover. And if anyone has a problem with it, we'll take them on."
"You're not making any sense," Sway told her, as they entered the crew's mess, "but I love you anyway." He saw Samaya, and she saw him. "Uh-oh."
"There you are, cutie!" Samaya chortled as she ran up to him. Then she noticed Naja. "Oh."
"Back off, *****," Naja snarled as she flicked out her d'k tahg. "He's mine."
Samaya bolted and Sway laughed. "Well that's one problem out of the way." He led Naja to an elevated two-place table on the forward wall, with the chairs placed next to each other. "But we might have another problem."
"Your father?"
Sway nodded. "He'll let me see you, but he doesn't think we're right for each other. He says he thinks we should be spending our time with our own species."
"Well, I guess we'll just have to convince him, won't we?" A steward brought over a plate of live food, and Naja ate a handful of racht. "It'll be easier than convincing my parents, anyway."
"Yeah, but you're legally an adult, and you don't live with them," Sway told her. He slurped some gagh and went on. "Anyway, I think he'll be alright with us. We just need to give it some time."
"Time is something we have plenty of." Naja leaned her head on Sway's shoulder as the main course arrived. "Sway, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to grow old and die in your arms. That's the life I imagine for us."
"What about children?"
"We'll adopt war orphans, like your father. What do you say, my Sweet Delight?"
"I say that sounds more beautiful than any of my dreams. But we'll have to wait until I'm twenty-four to get married."
Naja sniffed. "But we can have so much fun in the meantime."
"True." Sway cut into the heart of targ on the table. "Speaking of fun, what do you want to do after dinner?"
She looked at him with a gleam in her eyes. "What do you want to do?"
Sway whispered in her ear.
She smiled and grabbed his hands. "Me too!"
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
The U.S.S. Replay AT-93475-E, in orbit over Risa. 0348 Earth Time
Captains Log
Stardate...
"Computer? Do me a favor and add the Stardate later. I was never really any good with remembering them anyways."
"Stardate will be added later Captain."
"Temporal Investigations said I can NEVER speak of this. To any one. Ever. But every year that goes by makes me think of this. Well, that and the Brandy.
Mostly the Brandy.
Today makes six years. Six long years.
I was living the exciting life of a Cargo Ship Engineer. Her name was the Mystic and she was a good ship. Rough around the edges, but we could do Warp 3 if we pushed the engines. And the Captain did upgrade the Weapons recently. We thought we had a milk run. Take some supplies to a colony. Nothing major, just a quick trip to the colony, then back. Maybe four weeks at Warp 3. Nothing more. Heck, there wasn't even any reports of hostile ships in the area for the past month! So we took the job.
That was the first mistake.
The second one was the Captain being greedy and wanting to push the Engines past Warp 3. I told him we were VERY lucky to even get Warp 3. That Engine wasn't rated for anything faster then Warp 2.5 at the most.
The third mistake was that stupid 'Short Cut' he heard about. Most of us warned him about going that close to a Nebula. You think he listened? Give you three guesses and the first two don't count.
I managed to get Warp 3.2 out of that old Engine. Don't ask me how, because I'm not even sure how I did it. But that ship felt like it was about to shake apart. I warned the captain, but it was too late. Interference from the Nebula made our Warp Field go ballistic. Next thing I know there was a bright flash and the Engine was glowing a odd shade of white. My crew and I did all we could, but in the end, we had to dump it. Ejected into space. I don't know if it was going Critical or not, but it wasn't looking good for us.
Needless to say, the Captain was NOT pleased. Luckily, Gui (our Navigation "Genius" as he liked to be called) chose that moment to tell the captain the Bad News For The Day. We were no longer anywhere near where we should've been. As a matter of fact, we didn't even have charts for this sector of space. Nearest we could figure out, we were somewhere near a System that had eight or nine planets. One star. The third planet looked promising, so we decided to try there for repairs.
That was the last mistake I ever had the chance of regretting on the Mystic.
We were Hailed by a vessel we had never seen before. Heck, none of us had even HEARD of this 'Terran Empire' as they called themselves. The next thing I can even remember is the Mystic being boarded and weapons fire. I locked down the Engine Room and did my best to try and calm my Engineering team. I heard some shouting. Not from the Mystic's crew, but the boarders. Oddly, I couldn't understand a single thing they even said. Not for the first few minutes anyways. But once I did start to understand the language they spoke, I wish I didn't.
The ships comm system came on and we heard nothing but bad news over it. We were given the option of either handing over our cargo and crew or dying "A rather painful death". The Captain decided to try and fight. I didn't even see what happened, but the next thing I know, he's on the floor dead. At least that was my guess. I didn't see him until later. Then we were each given the option of joining their crew, or joining the Captain on the Floor. We were terrified. None of us even knew what was going on. That's when I unlocked Engineering and found a gun pointed at my face.
Not the first thing I wanted to see, but nothing that could be done about it. I was taken to the bridge with the rest of my crew. Seemed like I was the only person alive that had any type of rank. And we never really enforced rank as it was. Their leader was a man named Smithy. He had a horrid scar across his face that must've left him blind in his right eye because he had a patch over it. He then gave us the same option. Hand over all of the Cargo and join the crew of his ship, the Asunder, or we can learn how to "Suck some Space" as he said. What choice did I have?
I spent day's. Maybe months or years being tortured. Heck, it may have even been hours. But that kind of pain makes you think weird. I don't know what information they wanted. But I told them everything I could think of. Some truths, some lies, mostly crying. They asked me what I was, like they had never seen a Trill before, what my Spots mean. What I did on that ship. What we were hauling. Where were we going. The list goes on and on. It wasn't until I was released from that Agony Booth, they called it, and was patched up that I learned the truth.
They were the most evil thing I would ever encounter.
The Terran Empire was evil. I know of no other word that can describe it properly. I had my hand broken twice, simply for being a woman AND a "Filthy Alien piece of trash". I was stabbed seven times just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And those were on the GOOD day's. Eventually, it stopped. Only because I knew my way around Warp Engines and found a way to tweak the one they had up by a Warp Factor of .3.
It got a little easy after that. The Captain (still have no clue what his name was) decided that I was to be a member of the Engineering Team. After a while, he even put me in charge of the third shift. Only because it was nothing but us non-Humans and no Human wanted to be in charge of us. I found a place where I could even stash some extra food and medical supplies to help the non-Humans if we were being starved or hurt. We managed to make life bearable. There was no way we could ever make it pleasant. Not in those conditions. But bearable.
About seven or eight months after I was forced into this crew, I was ordered to accompany a team that was going on a mission. I wasn't given any details, I was just told to be at the Transporter with a Engineering kit and to shut my mouth and do as I was told. I knew better then to ask questions. My bruised face reminded me of that.
I was getting ready to use the Transporter for the first time. Now, mind you, the NX Class did have Transporters, but they were mainly used for transporting cargo and such. However, our Captain decided that for this raid we were using the Transporters to surprise the cargo ship. The same way they surprised my ship. Meaning that there was going to be some new, what's the word he used? Servants? I think that was the word. I didn't know what to expect, but it couldn't be good.
Turns out I was right. It wasn't a cargo ship. It was something that made the Humans nervous and some of us non-Humans terrified. The Asunder rocked with weapons fire. We were hit and it sounded bad. We were ordered to begin Transport. The first team went. Then the second. The reports we were hearing sounded worse then the noise the Asunder was making as she got beat on. We started hearing reports of hostile things on the ship. We were being boarded. Then my team was ordered to go over. And as I walked to the Transporter pad, that's when my life was changed.
It was a odd being that stood in front of me. Four spider like legs inside of some type of Armor. That was the last thing I remembered seeing before everything got all... well.. I don't know how to describe it. There was a loud screeching sound and a flash of blinding light. I lost consciousness. Dropped my kit. And then the universe seemed to go away from me.
I woke up on a strange ship. On a Transporter pad much larger then the one I left. The people here had some odd uniforms on. I was afraid it was the Asunder all over again. I was fading in and out of consciousness. Something was said about Sick Bay. Something else about Tholians. I had no idea what was going on. I was told I was safe. And in good hands. Someone named Evere helped me up.
Three day's later I awoke. I was on board of the U.S.S. Quantum Order. Turns out that the person that helped me get here was the Captain of this ship. I laughed so hard I thought I was going to die. A WOMAN as a Captain?! Was she serious? The Terran Empire would never allow that! I mean, who was she kidding anyways.
I was completely wrong. There was no Terran Empire here. There wasn't even anything I recognized in this Sick Bay. I couldn't even tell why a Engineer was a Captain of a ship! Turns out, she wasn't a Engineer. The red on her uniform marked her as a Tactical Captain. And even worse, this wasn't home. This was a Federation ship. And a rather beat up one at that. They had just come under assault from a Tolian Ship and were headed back to Spacedock to get some much needed repairs. Quite a few injures among the crew. A few fatality's too. I learned that there was another Trill on here. A Host named Dillan Rez. And he was severely injured in the attack that I had decided to appear in the middle of. And he was dying fast. And as the only other Trill on here, it looked like I had the option of Joining with this symbiotic slug or letting it die.
What else could I do?
I joined with Rez. I gained memories. I gained skills. And I gained myself. It turns out that in this Universe, I was the second Host of Rez. When my other self, or was that a past me, I can't keep that straight anymore, was given the option to join, she took it. I didn't when I was offered back home. I didn't want a Slug crawling inside of me. So now (much to Trill's confusion) I am both the Second Host AND the Eighth Host of Rez. It's confusing to be honest. Memories of a life I both never lead and am leading.
Evere took me to Starfleet Command where I got a visit from some people who I'd rather not upset. Called themselves "Temporal Investigations". Said I don't belong here. I can't belong here. I was already dead here. I should go back. I told them everything they wanted to know. I was a force of habit. They didn't like the fact that I Joined with Rez. They wanted it removed. Wanted me returned. Afraid I already contaminated the flow of Time. They wanted to lock me up at first. I begged. Begged to be allowed to stay free. Told them all about what I went though and why I would rather be dead then go back. So they decided on a worse fate for me.
I was to join Starfleet (as they called it) and become a member of a crew. Turns out that out of eight host Rez had, five others had joined Starfleet. So I had a bit of an edge over others when it came to my training. Took me longer then it should have, mainly because I had to basically learn everything all over again. Warp 9?! How is that even possible! And how are they even able to make ships that large?! What's with all the Alien species around here?!
I had a lot to learn.
And to make it worse, the Third Host had gotten the nick name 'Trixie'. Seems like I got stuck with it.
Computer, end Recording. And do I still have any of that Brandy stashed away?
"Affirmative Captain, you still have one case of Brandy in your quarters"
"Good, I need a drink right now."
Fleet Admiral Remus Yue-chung Lee
Role: Commanding Officer
Species: Human
Age: 24
The ship captain of USS Lord English. A talented, if immature, officer who earned his command fighting the Borg at Vega IX and has risen through the ranks since. Although his unprofessional manner concerns his superiors, his willingness to push the envelope for other's sakes endears him to both Starfleet Command and his crew.
Commander Kay Jasmine Taylor
Role: Executive Officer
Species: Human
Age: 22
Rational and composed, Kay and Remus have served together for the majority of the latter's captaincy. She commands the Lord English whenever Remus is away from the ship, and serves in a "Team Mom" role to the English's crew. Her predecessor died in the line of duty, so she feels an added need to ensure the lives of those aboard Lord English.
Tactical Department
Commander Drevis Indoril Nethri
Role: Chief Tactical Officer
Species: Dunmer
Age: 27
A mysterious alien from way beyond Federation borders, Drevis has a very easy-going attitude and makes friends among the ship's crew easily. However, underneath his sparkling appearance is a whole mess of contradictory stories and impressions which makes pinning down his true past very hard to do.
Commander Aranea Serket
Role: Security Chief
Species: Orion
Age: 24
A defector from the Mirror Universe, Aranea is the mirror counterpart of an Orion crime lord. Her sweet demeanor belies an incredibly tragic past and a sadistic streak which frightens even hardened warriors. She maintains a professional relationship with the rest of English's senior crew, but would like a companion to keep her company on a cold night.
Commander Vorat'kax
Role: Assault Squad Chief
Species: Jem'Hadar
Age: 9 months
Gruff and taciturn like the rest of his species, Vorat'kax finds himself at odds with the less disciplined and more relaxed atmosphere of the Federation. When he's not fighting, he's always seen tweaking something military-related in order to make him a more efficient fighter. The closest thing he has to leisure is talking combat philosophies with Thot, the Breen deserter.
Commander Thot
Role: Chief Ground Warfare Specialist
Species: Breen
Age: 15
Among the myriad aliens serving aboard Lord English, Thot is the most reclusive member of the crew. Thot is reluctant to reveal his non-duty activities or strike up conversations with the non-Breen on the English, with his closest non-Breen friend being the Jem'Hadar Vorat'kax.
Engineering Department
Commander T'Shaanat
Role: Chief Engineer
Species: Vulcan
Age: 21
A typical Vulcan with the typical Vulcan flair for logical thought and emotionless interactions, T'Shannat exemplifies the miracle worker engineer with her no-nonsense efficient engineering prowess. She is the go-to girl for all things engineering or logic-based, and sometimes joins the occasional girls' night out organized by Kay.
Commander Kovat Vystan
Role: Chief of Operations
Species: Cardassian
Age: 21
Moody, dour, and a little unsettling, the Cardassian Chief of Operations of Lord English is a wunderkind amongst the post-Dominion War Cardassian generation. He is more comfortable hacking into a database than hobnobbing with superior officers, though he will help the Lord English out of sticky situations.
Commander Ten of Twenty-Five
Role: Chief Sensors Officer
Species: Liberated Borg Human
Age: 18
Formerly Sabrina Honda, Ten of Twenty-Five is haunted by her relatively brief imprisonment in the Borg Collective, showing the occasional bout of self-doubt and fear. However, she is still capable of acting decisively and confidently in her duties, particularly in the company of her friends.
Commander Prometheus R-66Y
Role: Chief Systems Engineer
Species: Android
Age: 301
An android first activated ninety years into the future, R-66Y served in the 29th century Temporal Starfleet before time shenanigans put him on the Lord English in 2409. He is programmed to follow the Temporal Prime Directive and Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics, but he still finds time to interact with the crew on a friendly basis, despite lacking developed emotional programming.
Commander Newa
Role: Chief Technician
Species: Caitian
Age: 18
The only sane cat amongst the English's crew, relatively speaking, Newa tolerates Remus' unprofessionalism the least, but she acknowledges his investment in the survival of his crew. She and other members of the senior crew her age get together often for shindigs.
Sciences Department
Commander Kira
Role: Chief Science Officer
Species: Klingon
Age: 18
Kira is a member of a Klingon family on the Federation side of the Klingon border, and thus less sympathetic to the Klingon Empire than many Klingons her age. She possesses a fiery temperament and is not above using verbal abuse to get her point across. She has a profound loyalty to the ship and its crew, which leads to very frank words when she believes their well-being is being affected.
Commander Four of Thirteen
Role: Chief Medical Officer
Species: Liberated Borg Human
Age: 72
The drone formerly known as Edmund Tadakatsu Honda was a survivor of the Federation massacre at Wolf 359. He still has an aura of Borg assimilation hanging around him like an albatross, but sometimes he is able to warm up emotionally, especially in proximity to his granddaughter, Sabrina Honda.
Commander Twimek
Role: Senior Biochemist
Species: Reman
Age: 20
Twimek is a former resistance fighter who has a debt to pay to Remus and is paying it off by serving aboard Lord English. He is a trustworthy and dependable person who can be counted on to offer medical knowledge on the many species which inhabit the regions of space in and around the Federation.
Commander Liviana
Role: Senior Research Lab Scientist
Species: Romulan
Age: 20
Described by her colleagues at the Romulan Ministry of Science as "bubbly" and "perky", Liviana is one of the foremost scientific minds in the service of the Romulans. She is serving aboard the Lord English as part of an effort to improve relations between the Romulans and the Federation.
Commander Jhamyn Othisi
Role: Senior Counselor
Species: Aenar
Age: 19
A demure and unassuming member of the English crew, Jhamyn is nonetheless essential in her role of healing the emotional wounds which the crew often encounters, and sometimes even inflicts on each other. She is someone that even enemies of the Federation consider a calming presence.
Commander Nelen Exil
Role: Senior Geologist
Species: Voth
Age: 60
Considered young by Voth standards, Nelen is a Voth defector who now serves on the Lord English. He is an idealistic and open-minded scientist who believes the pursuit of knowledge should benefit all species. His greatest challenge is adapting to the less advanced systems of the Federation, but he does enjoy the challenge.
Academy Abroad Cadets
Cadet 2nd Year Juno Poplar Inselart
Role: Science School Cadet
Species: Human
Age: 15
Hailing from the Human Lunar colony of New Berlin, Juno is a 2nd year Cadet in the science track who is on the Lord English as part of Starfleet Academy's Academy Abroad program. She is a very reserved, weak-willed cadet who nonetheless has many talents that are brought out by the encouragement of her friends and superior officers. She is currently looking for a misplaced pair of X hairpins...
Cadet 2nd Year Garaze Rela
Role: Tactical School Cadet
Species: Bajoran
Age: 16
Rela is the first member of her family to be born after the Cardassian Occupation and the first to leave Bajor. She is a very gregarious cadet who makes friends easily and obliviously draws the eyes of male cadets. She is a relatively simple person with great initiative and loyalty to her friends.
Cadet 3rd Year Idouna Stadi
Role: Science School Cadet
Species: Betazoid
Age: 17
A well-mannered Betazoid cadet with a history of good grades and good citizenship, Idouna is an epitome of femininity whose only failing, so to speak, is an excess of empathy. She is very well liked and well regarded by everyone and would make a good wife and mother to some fortunate soul in the future if she wasn't involved in Starfleet.
Cadet 3rd Year Salin
Role: Engineering School Cadet
Species: Saurian
Age: 17
A Saurian cadet who is a bit nerdy and boyish, almost the exact opposite of her roommate, Idouna. Nonetheless, she is a skilled engineer and a trustworthy cadet. She likes to dabble in the arts when she is not studying.
The Catalina is a Galaxy-class starship commissioned shortly after the Dominion War as an ambassadorial starship, seeking diplomatic venues with the Dominion and opening trade between the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants, as well as other diplomatic relations in the Klingon and Romulan Star Empire (back when there was a Romulan Star Empire and not the fragmented factions they are now.). She's an old ship, kept to the original designs by her captain, despite the pleading of his engineer. The captain's crew is a rather mixed bunch. Two Caitians, a Klingon, a Romulan-Vulcan, a Liberated Borg and two Andorians. The Liberated Borg is responsible for the Borg technology keeping the Catalina running. The Catalina is on a 3 month tour of duty to rally all the major powers in the Alpha Quadrant to make a final push against the Borg threat, so that they might focus on the Tholians and the Elachi. And with that, here begins our story.
"Captain on the bridge!", the Andorian got up from her station and stood at attention. "At ease, Lieutenant." He sat down and straightened his uniform. Looking at the viewscreen for a moment, he looked at his sensors officer. "Diphra, scan for any ships in the area. Long range scan if you please."
"Aye, Captain.", she nodded sharply and began to scan for the signatures with military efficiency. Her antennae stood straight up as she spun around. "Sir! Klingon warship closing in! Bortasqu'-class. They aren't arming disruptors."
"Stand-by shields and weapons. Activate on my mark. Open a channel."
On the screen appeared not a Klingon, but an Orion. "Ahhh.. Captain, I was wondering when I would run into you. Do you have time for a small discussion?"
"Well, if it isn't Melani D'ian of the Orion Syndicate. I think we both know how our last 'discussion' panned out.", he glares.
"And I do apologize for that. Had I known, the offenders would have been executed, and you and your crew set free. Now, I repeat again, do you have time for a discussion?", she smiled, and closed the channel.
"She... closed the channel, sir. Should I hail her again?", Diphra asked. "Hmm, no, but M'Tesis.... I want all security teams on alert and inoculated. Miss D'ian is a head of state, and since we are diplomats, we will play host to her. If she tries her games, I need security to be at full alert."
M'Tesis blinked, and brandished her claws, "Should I accompany you? The Orion is bound to have security of her own. And I don't particularly trust her.", she growled softly and began to play with her dagger unsheathed from her belt.
"No, mother. The Orion and I are going to have a chat. But I want her unarmed and her guests confined to the guest quarters.", they both chuckled and go their separate ways.
Hours later, Melani and the captain are in the ready room, going over a trade agreement.
"Ever since this alliance, slave trade has become illegal in the Federation. Reluctantly I have decided to turn to other avenues of income. Legal supply trade and businesses. This agreement says that if the Federation wants to continue trade between our two peoples, then the supply freighters will run under escort throughout the trade lanes. With the Empire focusing their efforts on the Borg, it doesn't leave me any ships other than a few frigates to protect the vulnerable ships. This agreement also says that KDF starships will join Federation ships in protecting the core worlds and vice versa. Not to mention the officer exchange programs that could be opened up..", Melani leans back and takes a sip from the glass of water on the desk, "I hate to say it, but... we need help. Everyone needs help, Captain. Even if it is... Federation help."
"Well, Miss D'ian, this does sound like a good deal and I would love to help you, but shouldn't you contact Starfleet about this? It's their ships. Their officers.", he unnoticingly takes Melani's glass and takes a sip, then grimaces. "Sorry, I'll get you another glass. Anyways, why didn't you got to Starfleet with this? Or go to J'mpok and ask him to contact the Federation Diplomatic Corps?"
"At first I did, and there was someone named Sugi... Sugar... ", she pondered the name, when the Captain piped up.
"Sugihara?"
"Yes! That's the name. I contacted them and he recommended you. Found your ship on my sensors and decided to visit you to talk this over. But if you'd rather make me angry and starve multiple Federation worlds in the process, I will leave.", attempting to work her Orion 'magic', she grinned almost pouting-like.
"Look, lady, I don't mind diplomatically talking to you, but I've been inoculated against those pheromones you're clearly putting out. I will sign the deal if you agree to never try that again. Am I clear?", his expression turned to almost anger and he signs the agreement.
"Oh, Captain. You're no fun. But it was worth a try. Let me know when you're on Qo'NoS again. I know a great place we can try some exquisite Orion wing-slugs. I bid you farewell and have a safe journey.", she gets up the same time he does, and they both bow in respect. Looking at the floor, he notices she had dropped part of or one of her sashes. With Orions, you can't tell if it's one sash or part of another. Some have very intricate and elegant outfits, others have barely enough cloth to cover their bodies. He picked it up and went after her. In the turbolift he impatiently tapped his foot, hoping to get to the shuttlebay before she left. When it opened, he was out of it faster than a speeding bullet, as the phrase went and found her almost entering the shuttle. "Miss D'ian, wait. You forgot your... sash..?"
In the Toron-class shuttle, two Orion females, clad in fully covering thick battle armor aimed their disruptor sniper rifles at his head, the red lights meeting each other on his forehead. "Umm... You do realize if my head comes off, that will be bad for both of us, correct?"
"Captain, I'd like you to meet Sanrru and Miluna. Your new officers. My parting gift. And thank you for bringing that back, but you keep it.", she smiled once more and the Orion snipers exited the shuttle.
"I don't mean to be rude, Melani, but... why keep it?", he got her attention and sat next to her for a moment, curious as to why she said keep it.
"Because, Captain, a knight can't go into battle without a token from his fair lady.", they both chuckled, and he looked at her curiously. "I studied your history and something called.. mooveez. Your history is so gallant and noble."
Not wanting to make her upset, he stuffs the sash into his pocket and then the door of the Toron closes suddenly.
"Captain, I'm not done talking to you. Sanrru and Miluna are very capable warriors and will make a nice addition to your crew. I expect you to not take advantage of them. If you do...", she flicks out a small handheld dagger from her wrist bracer, "....I will know. Are we clear?", she giggles and grins, pecking him on the cheek.
"Agh... don't do that, please. And yes, we're clear.", he exited the shuttle after the door opened, and started to wipe the lipstick off on his uniform, a couple of workers in the shuttlebay looking on and laughing, then summarily growing silent as the Orion snipers glare at them with sharp knives. The shuttle exits the bay, leaving the Captain and the workers. The Orions left sometime ago.
As the Captain looked back at the bay opening, the cruiser shimmered out of sight, and the doors closed. Shaking his head, he discards the sash and it gets picked up by a stealthed Sanrru. When he awakes the next morning, the sash is in a case on his desk with a plaque that reads:
For our new Captain. A reminder that not all people are as cruel and as unforgiving as people say.
Looking at it for a moment, he picks it up gently and sets it on the shelf behind his desk, then sits down to read the day's reports.
Dreadnought class. Two times the size, three times the speed. Advanced weaponry. Modified for a minimal crew. Unlike most Federation vessels, it's built solely for combat.
Comments
Tales of Alyosha Strannik
"Black Days"
BY ORDER OF STARFLEET COMMAND
The following are hereby summoned to a Board of Inquiry regarding the matter of the loss of the USS Indomitable to be convened at Earth Spacedock:
Captain Alexei Ivanovich Strannik, USS Chin'toka
Commander Chirithraz th'Valek, USS Chin'toka
Commander Jiana Sei, MD, FFXPA, USS Chin'toka
Lieutenant Commander Temm, USS Chin'toka
Lieutenant Natanakar ch'Sherrin, USS Chin'toka
Master Chief N'Vek ir-Kratiryai tr'Aekkhaedhai, USS Chin'toka, Romulan Republic Exchange Program
Captain T'Lenn, USS Chalcedon
Commander Garvo Djichami, Deep Space 11
Lieutenant Commander Mila Kebak, MD, USS Indomitable
Lieutenant Commander Joost de Boer, Deep Space 11
Lieutenant Rr'Siim, USS Indomitable...
Санкт-Петербург, Российская Федерация
St. Petersburg, Russian Federation
United Earth
Splish-crunch...
Splish-crunch...
Splish-crunch...
A mixture of snow and slush created under the boots of other pedestrians squished with each step that took me closer to my foster parents' condominium in the heart of St. Petersburg. The last traces of daylight had already faded out of the sky at this early hour--only 6 in the evening--but the darkness was of little consequence to me. The streetlights, landskimmer headlights, and stars were more than sufficient for me to see by, and the unlike some, the fact that the days this time of year only lasted five hours or so did nothing to shake my equilibrium, for I did not know what it was to fear the dark in itself.
The cold, however--it was as unwelcome to me as always, thanks to the thick clothes it required me to wear over what I could shapeshift for myself. Genuine clothing, which restricted my field of vision tremendously, leaving only the photoreceptors that remained uncovered between scarf and ushanka.
It could be worse, though, I thought to myself with a hint of a smile, forgetting for a moment how odd this would appear to others walking by. The SPIRC could've been the Murmansk Interphasic Research Center. Then I would've been in trouble. This, though...if this is the price of having a home, I can more than live with it. I allowed my cheeks to show a hint of rose at the bitterness of the wind without, and the warmth of the thought within. I needed that now. Very much so.
The chill wind picked up a bit, and with gloved hands I pulled my long overcoat tighter around me. Home wasn't far now.
Unfortunately I wouldn't be home for the Christmas holidays, though, which would extend all the way from the New Year through January 10th--Christmas itself. Unless the Board of Inquiry that had brought me back to Earth lasted a truly inordinate amount of time...or the worst happened...I'd be deployed aboard the Chin'toka again well before that time. Indeed it was a shame, for not only would I be missing that time with my foster family yet again...but the old holidays and traditions needed as many people present to sustain them--not just in form, but in spirit--as possible.
Still, I reminded myself, don't be ungrateful. You're home. And you need that now, before you face the Board.
It wasn't me who was under investigation, per se. But my proximity to the investigation was quite enough. There would be those present at the board who knew the truth about me, and what I was. And not all of them might be as tolerant of that as Admirals Quinn and ch'Harrell, or the late Admiral Kane. There had always been resistance throughout my career every time my name had come before the promotion board. Captain Teeglar in particular had run afoul of it, and had told me afterwards--though without naming names--exactly what had happened.
If someone...or multiple someones...brought that same attitude to the Board of Inquiry--I shivered. I could be facing that exact same mindset in a venue where the ruling might just demolish everything I'd worked for...an outcome catastrophic not just for me, but for my crew. And with Kane's recent passing, would the benevolence of Quinn and ch'Harrell be enough to keep me safe? There was already one, following the incident at Khitomer, that I viewed with suspicion.
I turned the final corner, and finally...this was it. This was home.
And there was Nadezhda Romanovna Azarova standing out there in the snow, waiting for me.
"Alyoshenka!"
I'd already had my luggage couriered to the condominium; there was nothing to encumber me as I pushed forward those last few steps and embraced the woman who, to me, was 'Mama.'
I squeezed as tightly as I dared--but we did not kiss. Though my shapeshifted form was sufficient to allow the action, she knew quite well that whether given or accepted from another, I simply could not reconcile such a gesture with any notion of love or kindness. I'd recoiled so strongly the one time she'd tried it that I'd dropped out of phase and shot right through a wall. It meant death, I'd explained later, once I'd recovered. Nothing but hunger and death: everything I would not allow to gain a foothold in me.
"It's so good to have you home, Alyosha," she was saying in our native Russian. "Papa will be home soon, and we'll all sit together and catch up--"
I tensed up: a form behind me, caught by the few exposed dorsal photoreceptors I had in my winter gear. It was a Vulcan, which struck me as odd: other than those who had to be here on duty or business, people like Vulcans and Cardassians tended to avoid St. Petersburg in the dark of the winter. And this figure...she--yes, definitely a she--stood too still. Too intent. Scrutinizing, observing me...and then I made out her face.
Oh, you have to be kidding me!
"Lyosha, what...?"
I extricated myself slowly, calmly, never turning my head so as not to tip my watcher off to the fact that I'd noticed. I kept my voice low and my tone warm and conversational, though the words were anything but. "I think we had better go inside now, Mama. I'll explain when we get in."
Once the door shut behind us and the warmth of the condominium wrapped itself around me, I aimed a deadly-serious gaze at her. "I believe we were being watched. I think it was T'Nae...one of the admirals who'll be on the Board of Inquiry." I did not add how the hand of the Vulcan figure had moved as if for a weapon when she'd first caught sight of me hugging my foster mother.
What I'd already said was quite enough for her. "If that's true, Alyosha--how dare she follow you like that! What on earth did she think she was going to find?" When I didn't answer right away, she added, "It's a good thing Papa didn't see that." Indeed, he'd be furious enough as it was, to hear what had happened. And if he'd been there--nothing would've stopped him from unloading right in the admiral's face, Vulcan or not, admiral or not, damn the consequences.
"Probably so," I agreed. Unbidden it emerged: "This wouldn't have happened while Admiral Kane was alive."
Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Kane? Isn't that the one who abused his own daughter?"
"The same," I mumbled tightly. I didn't want to continue the conversation people had tried repeatedly to drag me into ever since the news came out about Marcus Kane's incest, when they would find out I'd served under his command at one point. And to think I so had fiercely defended him against the rumors he'd had similar relations with his sister back when she was alive! I'd been sure the allegations were the ravings of a malicious individual jealous of Kane's near-immortality. But then Kane had returned from a terrible captivity in Cardassian space--his second long term in their territory, if I'd understood right--and the second set of allegations had begun. And he hadn't denied it.
True, according to most accounts nothing had actually happened until S'rR's reached the age of majority, but I also couldn't argue my foster mother's terminology. Such a relationship was by its nature sinful, not to mention inherently unbalanced given the power a parent would always hold over a child: abuse, by definition. The onus had been on him to see that no inappropriate relations occurred...and biological urges, as far as I was concerned, were no excuse. If I could keep from killing for my very sustenance, then surely--
I sighed. That was a prime example of why I hated following that train of thought, and why I had still kept up a minimal sort of contact with Kane after the revelation. Still invited him to my promotion to captain, though he had not been able to come, or perhaps felt it would be too awkward if he did. And how I'd managed to blank everything out in the heat of the crisis when his daughter had been kidnapped at Khitomer. I wondered how long I would have been able to hold out if not for Section 31's assault.
But the other undeniable truth, besides the sinfulness of his actions towards his sister...towards his own daughter...was that I probably wouldn't have had a career if not for the scrupulous fairness Admiral Kane had shown me when I needed it. I could recognize each act for what it was. But beyond that...I was not entitled to be some sort of enforcer, no matter how much my mind tried to go there. Nor was it mine to speak ill of the dead. That was God's to sort out, not mine.
"At least Kane didn't tolerate speciesism," I said. "And somehow he still had enough clout to enforce that even after he did..." I struggled not to finish with a Russified version of the American expression...after he did his daughter. "What he did." Fortunately Mama recognized my tone as I finished what I had to say, and didn't question me any further on the subject.
"Unfortunately," I continued, "I cannot say Admiral T'Nae is so evenhanded. I heard her say some things on a mission that were pretty inexcusable. And in a diplomatic situation, no less! Her neural energy wasn't sluggish like a drunk, which at least would've explained it." Lacking the ability to smell alcohol--or any kind of intoxicant--on a person, that was the only way I could guess if something had impaired them. "Based on that...she's hidden it until now, but I'm not surprised to find out she's probably one of the ones who knows and has a problem with me as a Devidian."
"Somehow--" and I couldn't mistake the bitterness in her voice, "that wouldn't surprise me."
I nodded, half-consciously pulling at my gloves.
"Go on up and change," she said. "Papa should be home any minute."
That change was both figurative and literal. As I removed my scarf, gloves, overcoat, winter pants, boots, and Starfleet-issue ushanka with its embroidered blue chevron of the sciences, I shapeshifted appropriate indoor replacements where necessary.
I came downstairs, appearing as if I wore dark grey slacks and a woolen sweater--whose itch, of course, I didn't have to worry about since it was merely another part of me. By then, Papa was bursting through the door, and it was a wonder the neighbors didn't hear him through the walls as he vented his indignation at the news of the unwelcome visitor outside:
"How dare she snoop on my son like some filthy chekist! 'Admiral' my TRIBBLE! To think it sounds so similar to the way the English say 'admirable'...there sure isn't any of that about her, that's for sure. If she so much as touches a toe on our stoop I'll have her TRIBBLE hauled to court so fast the snow won't have time to melt off her coat. Let her show hard proof to a judge of exactly why she felt she could override the civilian authorities and pull a stunt like that!"
"Misha," my foster mother was saying, "be careful. Those rumors that Starfleet really does have a bunch of chekisty running around...do you think they're above hurting him if they decide he's a threat? Or that he's interesting?"
As I reached the bottom of the staircase, I wished more than ever that those who had raised me had the ability to sense my emotions as I could theirs, to send and receive telepathy. To speak it aloud was risky...for Section 31 to find out that civilians knew with certainty could put them in danger, just as Mama feared. Especially when those civilians happened to be scientists with an interphasic research specialty, and the foster parents of a Devidian who had been so bold as to nearly scuttle one of 31's ships.
I wanted so much to tell them telepathically, where it would be much harder for 31 to prove anything. To say, Those rumors are true--be careful! But they, of course, would not hear.
But first things first. Papa surged forward and greeted me with an embrace so crushing I almost had to use my telekinesis to push his arms away. "Welcome home! I am so thankful you made it home, Alyosha." He let go and fixed me with an expression every bit as grave as my own. In fact, I had learned mine from him. "Especially now that I hear about that admiral trying to play spy games. Can you tell me, son, are you under some sort of suspicion?"
"Just the usual," I mumbled, half to myself, then raised my head and gave the appearance of eye contact. "At least, I think so. I can't share many of the details, but what I can tell you was that a ship was destroyed and I was present. We attempted to avert the incident...but while we were able to keep them from being lost with all hands, the loss of life was still steep. Very steep. It wasn't in battle. So Starfleet Command has ordered an investigation to determine if the incident was preventable. And if it was...who was to blame. Most of the other ship's command crew was lost, which means my crew and I will be among the main witnesses."
"And that Vulcan T'Spy is supposed to be on the board?" my foster father inquired. He crossed his arms and glowered as if he could see her out the window. Was T'Nae Section 31? Doubtful, I tried to tell myself. A Vulcan with so little ability to hide her racism...might not be seen as having the necessary discipline. But could she be a tool used by them? I didn't know. Perhaps at least the grave set of my expression would warn my foster parents on some level of my suspicions.
I nodded. "Unfortunately so. She and Admirals Torres and Ryrok will comprise the board. I heard that originally Admiral Yanishev was supposed to be in Ryrok's place...but I guess someone thought he might not be objective." After all, it was well known that Yanishev had grown up not that far from St. Petersburg.
Papa snorted at that one. "And T'Nae's some maven of objectivity?"
"No kidding," Mama added.
"You don't know the half of it," I said. "She's a known speciesist...against Romulans for sure. That's a confirmed fact. And probably against me, too." I didn't say 'against Devidians.' After all--there was a damned good reason to despise the rest of my species. By the strict definition...I had to admit it: I would probably be considered speciesist against them myself.
"What about the other two?" Papa asked.
"Torres is on the board as its SCE representative." The Starfleet Corps of Engineers--an organization that had had just as much contact with the St. Petersburg Interphasic Research Center as the science division. "She was one of the Voyager crew, of course, eventually found her way over to SCE. Given that, I really doubt she's been cleared to know what I am. Hopefully if the facts speak for themselves, I'll fare all right with her.
"I don't know much about Ryrok other than that he's Rigelian, and a fleet commander. Again probably not cleared to know about my species. T'Nae is, though; the most senior admirals--her included--know."
My foster father shook his head. "Not good. Alyosha--let me propose something. If Starfleet will allow, see if you can stay here when you're not needed on Earth Spacedock. We may not be able to prevent all spying, but if they do try it--if they do come onto our property or I catch them eavesdropping, I will make sure our courts force Starfleet's hand and prove they had the right to override local civilian authority. Which I do not believe they will be able to do." Father might not be a true legal expert, but he'd had to navigate the court system multiple times on my behalf when I was growing up, most importantly of all to secure my status as a citizen of the Russian Federation with all rights and privileges thereof. That meant he had at least somewhat of an idea what he was doing--or at least knew the right experts to consult with should a trial be necessary.
And then there was the thought of spending time home. That, no matter what, deserved to be reflected in a smile. I knew exactly what answer I would give.
"Very good!" Papa replied. "As soon as they give the go-ahead, I'll invite the rest of the 'crew' to see you."
By this Papa meant the many other scientists and aides at the SPIRC who had participated in my upbringing--my 'aunts' and 'uncles,' as it were. While my placement with the Azarovs had had much to do with my choice to be baptized into their faith, neither the Azarovs nor I had wanted to slight the others by diminishing their role. That was why fostering had never been formalized into legal adoption and why we weren't about to pass up the opportunity now to host all of those who still survived. Ironically, in this, the tight-knit SPIRC community--which by conventional wisdom 'should' have been an impregnable bastion of logic and scanner data alone--got along better in its religious and philosophical diversity than often seen elsewhere on Earth.
"Tell them I'm looking forward to it," I said. Not only would their presence be a comfort, but it would be harder for T'Nae or Section 31...assuming the two weren't synonymous...to act while a massive party was converging on the place to eat, drink, and be merry. Well, within reason, of course: the Azarovs weren't the type to allow reckless abandon in their home.
I couldn't participate in the first two, but I could certainly circulate around the room and be merry.
For tomorrow...the board.
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A Dissonant Interval
by superhombre777, sander233 and marcusdkane
As the USS Reaper entered the Sol system, the first word to come to Counselor ch'Raul's mind was clutter. There were clouds of ships surrounding Utopia Planitia and Earth Space Dock. As they passed by, the Martian construction yard appeared to have a section dedicated to repairs and another section for new construction. A Galaxy-Class vessel missing a nacelle and a Saber-Class escort missing most of its saucer reminded him of the casualties of war.
The USS Reaper was in marginally better shape. The last conflict had only caused superficial damage to the exterior. But the crew knew that most of the Reaper's wounds were caused by a faceless enemy. The ship hadn't been the same since Section 31 commandeered it several months ago. Finally the admiralty realized that this status quo couldn't go on indefinitely. The Reaper needed to be inspected from top to bottom and then repaired or flown into a star.
"All stop," Lieutenant Simeon stated from the helm. Ch'Raul snapped back to the present and waited for T'Panna to address the crew. She took her time standing and walking to the front of the bridge.
"Broadcast to all personnel," she said in a quiet voice. Glotz nodded and a faint chime acknowledged the open channel. "All hands, this is the captain. We have arrived in the Sol System. All non-essential personnel are hereby granted shore leave. Senior officers will stay onboard until station personnel secure the ship. This marks the end of our time onboard the Reaper. It was a pleasure being your captain. Farewell."
Once the channel was closed, she continued speaking. "ch'Raul, you have been a great steadying hand during these troubled days, and I thank you for that. Glotz, operations have run seamlessly, which is a sign of a good leader. Thank you. Simeon, our next ship will have more teeth, so hopefully I won't be asking you for as many impossible escapes in the future. Jarvis, you have put this ship back together more than any engineer should have to, and you have done it with excellence. Kerna'tharan, any Federation or Dominion ship would be fortunate to have you running security. I sincerely hope that you will consider staying in Starfleet.
"I know that most of you are coming with me to our next posting, but I thought it would be fitting to thank you all while we are here one last time on this bridge. Now I will go through the lower decks and thank those I can. Ch'Raul, you have the bridge."
That was a moving speech for a Vulcan, ch'Raul thought. If I didn't know better, I would say that she is starting to heal. This ship still reminded everyone of the former captain, Everitt Carter. He was in charge for so long that T'Panna's time at the end seemed like a mere moment. Most of the crew had moved on after his death, but as his lover, T'Panna was nowhere close to healed. Leaving this ship would be necessary for her long-term emotional health.
Captain Amanda Palmer woke with a start, recalling the stomach-lurching way the waverider had dropped away from the underside of the Valkyrie's primary hull.
Light flooded into the room from the viewport, and sitting up and stretching, Palmer gazed out upon the curvature of the Earth, her eyes darting from satelite to satelite and the orbital habitats and orbiting ships, before letting her focus fall to the chronometer inset into the surface of the bedside table.
0700 Hours, but Space Dock was a twenty four hour hub of activity, no different to Las Vegas where she had been born and raised. She knew she should have gone down to the surface, visited her mother and sister, but until the hearing was settled -- until her name was cleared, she could not bear the idea of their well-intentioned support and goodwill.
It was nice to be nice, Palmer considered as she slid from the bed and padded to the shower, allowing herself the luxury of hot water, but she had always considered herself a pragmatist first, and Naomi's naive platitudes and affirmations would simply stretch her patience beyond breaking point, especially when dealing with such an important subject as the future of her career. Not that their mother would be any more helpful, with her blunt honesty. No, it had been easier to remain on Space Dock until after things were definitely settled and resolved one way or the other.
Towelling herself dry, Palmer crossed to the closet and dressed swiftly in a freshly replicated dress uniform. Everything was freshly replicated, she mused as she pulled a Verticoli brush through her shoulder-length raven hair. Everything that she had ever owned aboard the Valkyrie had been vaporized when the survey ship had been destroyed by a failure of the anti-matter containment system. It was the same for everyone aboard the ship, and a testament to the professionalism and skill of her crew that they had suffered so few losses despite abandoning ship while in the middle of a battle with the Fek'Ihri horde.
While there was still time for breakfast, the idea of food left Palmer nauseated, so instead she left her assigned quarters to stroll the promenade and try and divert her thoughts from the upcoming hearing. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing Admiral Kane was still alive and able to offer some kind of advice.
"Attention all hands, this is the Captain. Secure all stations and prepare to disembark."
It may have been some time since she wore a Stafleet uniform, but Isabella Hillel had not yet broken the habits of her Academy training, and she still automatically looked up at inter-ship announcements.
Near the door, a collection of baggage was piled ready for departure.
"Where we going this time, Mama?" Emily asked, lisping around the thumb in her mouth.
Kneeling, Isabella removed the digit from Emily's mouth before scooping up her daughter and standing.
"We're going to see Uncle Pyotr and Grandpa Andrei in Vladivostok," she replied. "Won't that be nice?"
"I thought we were going to Israel," observed her husband Yair Hillel.
"I thought we were going to stay on Bajor," Isabella replied, keeping her tone light for Emily's benefit, but the undercurrent in her tone was unmistakable.
"I told you before, things weren't going to work out for me there, one woman screamed in my face when I told her about -- what had happened in the wormhole. They wanted nothing to do with me, didn't want the help I offered."
"I told you they would have no time for that nonsense," Isabella pointed out. "You're not Bajoran, Yair, you have no idea what it means to be Bajoran, what made you think such a self-sufficient people would actually welcome any assistance or suggestions you may offer?"
"I know what the prophets showed me," Hillel replied serenely. "I believe they were telling me to continue with Professor O'Brien's work in assisting the Bajoran people."
Isabella shook her head sadly.
"You keep saying that, but of the countless people who travelled through the wormhole since its discovery, only Captain Sisko and Lieutenant Dax had a verifiable experience while in the anomaly. Is it any wonder people are scheptical?"
"So you don't believe me..." Hillel sulked.
"I believe that you believe it," Isabella replied, struggling to maintain a conversational tone. "But you have been so distracted lately, I do wonder if there may be more on your mind. Those hourly texts before we left Bajor, for example, which you kept deleting. What did you not want me to see? Suggestive messages from other women?"
"It was just a mistaken user ID," Hillel replied dismissively. "There are no other women."
"Not that you'd admit it if there was," Isabella muttered. "But it's clear you don't find me appealing anymore."
"It's just that I've had so much on my mind," Hillel admitted. "Maybe if I talk to Captain T'Panna, she'll consider rescinding my resignation."
Isabella snorted derisively, shifting Emily from one hip to the other.
"If you try and re-activate your commission so soon after resigning, your judgement will look so conflicted, you'll be lucky to be assigned to maintaining the waste reclamation systems. Assuming ch'Raul even sees fit to clear you for duty in the first place."
"Maybe there'll be some opportunities in Israel," Hillel ventured optimistically. "You did suggest we go for Yom Kippur..."
"We'll go to Israel once we've seen my family," Isabella stated calmly. "Pyotr said he wanted to discuss something with you."
He probably wants to beat me to death... Hillel thought morosely, knowing all too well the low opinion his brother in law had of him.
"We can discuss this more later," Isabella stated with an air of finality. "I want to be at the front of the queue at the airlock, I don't want to be wandering Space Dock any longer than necessary."
Striding towards the door, she carried Emily into the corridor leaving Hillel to gather their baggage.
Most of the crew had left by the following morning. Ch'Raul was packing his bag when Alice appeared in his bedroom. "I really don't want you to go. I am going to be so lonely by myself."
This is why AIs should not be sentient, he thought. They don't seem to ever grow up. "We've had this discussion before. I know that you want to accompany me, but I would like to catch up with my friends by myself. We can still talk every night."
Her face contorted into something that was supposed to create sympathy. "But I still want to go with you! Please don't make me stay here alone."
"Repeating yourself will not change my decision," he calmly responded. "Part of being a sentient adult is learning to deal with situations that you don't desire. I have done everything in my power, both professionally and personally, to help you grow, and I'm proud of you. Consider this another lesson."
Alice walked over and sat on his bed. "If I can't go with you, I am going to stay here for as long as I can."
"As you wish," ch'Raul replied. "I am done packing." He turned towards the door.
"But you told me that I could..."
"Goodbye Alice," he interrupted. "I will contact you tonight to see how your day was."
She stood up to follow him, but he held out a hand to stop her. "You said you were going to stay here in my quarters. So have fun." With that, he stepped into the hallway.
I'm sure that sh'Neuil would have enjoyed hearing about this, he thought. She'd say that it's my own fault for starting a romantic relationship with a patient. I did know what I was getting into. She had been remarkably lucid on her deathbed. One of the things she wanted her bondmate to know was that even though she had loved him deeply, she was alright with him finding love elsewhere once she was gone.
Now ch'Raul was the last of his bondmates living, and he had sunk to the level of messing around with a patient. How times have changed, he thought as he walked to the transporter room.
As she entered the conference lounge, Palmer saw that in addition to the four admirals who made up the board of inquiry, there were also numerous other officers who were deemed to be interested parties.
Looking over the assembled admirals, Palmer's breath momentarily caught in her throat. Seated at the long table at the head of the room was Admiral Jedda Tobin, former first officer of the USS Endeavour, and someone she had regarded as a personal role model since her time as an acting ensign. Age had softened the once-harsh contours of her face, shot streaks of silver through her once-dark hair, but she was still a striking woman.
To the right of the Trill, sat Admiral Jac Cheliss, his obsidian Betazoid eyes drawing in everything around him like black holes, and to his right, the elusive Admiral Xon sat passively, his fingers steepled in a light meditative pose Palmer had seen many Vulcans assume.
At Tobin's left, was Admiral Sen Joran, one of the highest ranking Bajorans to serve in Starfleet, and Palmer accutely felt the gravitas of these most senior officers. She had half-hoped to see Admiral Quinn's benevolent face on the board, but of course, he was Starfleet's 'carrot': The assembled admirals were all stick...
"Captain Amanda Palmer, reporting as ordered," she stated formally, before taking a seat beside Commander Ethan Rhodes, the JAG representive assigned as her council.
"This board of inquiry has been convened as of this date to determine the cause of the loss of the USS Valkyrie in the Moab system," began Cheliss. "While it was impossible to recover the flight recorder of the Valkyrie, memory engrams from the ships computer library access information retrieval engram have been entered as evidence in substitution."
Glancing across the room, Palmer saw Claire sitting meekly in a chair. Projected by the holo systems of the conference lounge, and without her mobile emitter, she was effectively confined to the room until she was transfered back to the holographic research lab on the USS Reaper for diagnostics and potential upgrade. Flanked on either side by armed security officers, Palmer felt Claire looked like she may as well have been wearing a convict's grey jumpsuit, although she appreciated that the guards were present for Claire's protection against abduction, not as her jailers.
"We know from those engrams what happened," Cheliss' deep, melifluous voice continued, regaining Palmer's attention. "We know how they happened, but we are here today to find out why they happened. To determine if anything could have been done differently, and to decide upon what action to take."
It took all Palmer's discipline not to vomit and keep her breathing regular, as a younger Human male stood before her, captain's rank pips on the breast of his standard duty uniform.
"I'm Captain Paul Channery, council for the inquiry, and I shall be directing the line of investigation," he said. "Please take the stand."
Ignoring the churning of her stomach, Palmer nodded and did so, taking a seat adjacent to the head table, with its own small side table with glasses and a carafe of water.
Channery began to pace slightly, before addressing her again.
"State your name, rank, organization and duty station," he requested.
"Amanda Louise Palmer, Captain, Federation Starfleet, formerly commanding officer of the USS Valkyrie."
"Thank you, Captain," said Channery. "Please can you explain to the board the circumstances surrounding the loss of the Valkyrie in the Moab system?
"You last recorded directive was to report to Deep Space Station Kay - Seven for crew rotation. How did you end up beyond the Federation border in a politically active region?"
"We coincidentally encountered the USS Hammerhead, under the command of Captain Frank Grimes, who requested our assistance in responding to a distress call from the USS Tiburon, under the command of Vice Admiral Jesu LaRoca.
"Due to the presence of Ambassador S'rR's Kane on board the Valkyrie, we had diplomatic clearance to enter the Moab system, so agreed to assist the Hammerhead in its rescue mission," Palmer explained while Channery paced before her. "When we entered the system, we came under heavy fire from Fek'Ihri forces, and were overwhelmed by them."
At that point, Channery stopped his pacing and turned to face Palmer.
"You were overwhelmed?"
"Yes, Sir, we were strategically outnumbered and overcome by the superior firepower of the Fek'Ihri weapons systems."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Captain, but the Valkyrie was a Nova Class survey ship, was it not?"
"Yes, Sir, that is correct," Palmer replied, knowing full well where Channery was taking the line of inquiry.
"Hardly an escort or otherwise tactically designed vessel," Channery observed. "May I ask why you took such a ship into such a potentially hostile environment?"
"As I said, Sir, in response to a distress call."
"Yet the -- recollections, of the Valkyrie AI do not indicate any receipt of any distress call."
"No, Sir, the request for assistance came from Captain Grimes, who was responding to the distress call. He merely enlisted our assistance when our vessels coincidentally encountered each other."
"So you did nothing to ascertain the validity of the distress call?"
Palmer's jaw tightened and she took a deep breath. Channery was only doing his job, she understood that, but that did not make his insinuations any less insulting.
"Sir. Starfleet regulations require a vessel to extend immediate assistance to any and all requests for it, not to determine the authenticity of said requests."
Channery nodded.
"Absolutely so, Captain Palmer, that is indeed the mandate," he agreed. "That will be all for now, you may step down. Captain Grimes, will you please take the stand?"
As she moved to return to her seat, Captain Frank Grimes passed her, giving her an almost imperceptible shrug, before lowering himself into the chair.
"State your name, rank, organization and duty station," Channery requested.
"Frank Grimes, Captain, Federation Starfleet, program manager of Starfleet Tactical Systems."
"Captain Grimes, can you inform the inquiry of the vessel you were commanding when the Valkyrie was lost?"
"Yes, Sir," Grimes replied willingly. "I was in command of the USS Hammerhead, an experimentally modified Khyzon class strike escort."
"A ship specifically designed for use in combat situations?" Channery probed.
Grimes nodded.
"For the assistance of the recorders, Captain, please respond verbally," Xon said, a hint of annoyance beneath his Vulcan calm.
"My apologies, Admiral," Grimes acquiesced. "Yes, Sir, the Hammerhead was specifically designed for combat."
"Unlike the Valkyrie?"
"Four months ago the Valkyrie received considerable upgrades to its computer cores and tactical systems," Grimes countered smoothly. He'd been questioned by harder opponents than Channery, and this JAG was not carrying a truncheon. "It was considerably better armed than a baseline Nova class vessel, featuring additional torpedo launchers and phaser arrays."
"But still not as well armed as the Hammerhead," Channery insisted.
"I'm sorry sir, but that's not a fair comparison," Grimes protested. "Ton-for-ton, there is no ship in Starfleet that's as well-armed as the Hammerhead."
"Accepted," Channery conceded. "Nonetheless, you recruited a light exploration vessel to accompany you to a war zone. Did you not consider that you were enlisting them in circumstances beyond their ability to handle?"
Grimes smiled.
"On the contrary, I enlisted them because I had no idea what circumstances awaited us in the Moab system, and I was concerned we would encounter something the Hammerhead would be unable to handle. I was commanding a warship with a five-man crew. I didn't know if we would find a fleet of Undine bioships or some sort of spacetime vortex or what. I thought having additional manpower and brainpower would be useful if the situation we were warping into was not a simple hostile engagement.
"I decided to request the Valkyrie's assistance, specifically, because Captain Palmer has a reputation for-" he caught himself. He had nearly said 'unorthodox tactics', but that could wrongly be used to portray her as some loose canon, and he had no desire to thus label a fellow captain. He cleared his throat and reaching for a glass, took a sip of water as if that was the reason for his pause. "Excuse me, Sirs, I was about to say that Captain Palmer has a reputation for being able to overcome unfavorable situations with precision tactics and lateral thinking. I felt her tactical skill and operational awareness would be a valuable contribution to the rescue operation."
Channery scowled, and turned away from Grimes.
"Thank you, Captain, you can step down," he said dismissively. "I would like to next call Commander Brandon Mayer."
Isabella made her way through the bustling promenade, when Emily began to start shuffling and wriggling in her grasp.
"Stay still..." she insisted, before Emily became more animated and stated bouncing up and down.
"Mama, Mama! Unca Bam! Unca Will!"
Turning, Isabella saw Brandon and Will Mayer walking across the promenade, and let Emily slide to the floor, where she ran towards her godfathers.
The two men could not have been a greater study in opposites: Brandon solidly muscled, with thick blonde hair and chiselled Germanic features, Will more slender, with dark hair and eyes which could let him pass for a Betazoid, and the ethereal features of a Twentieth Century Indie musician:
Isabella had known them both since their time at Starfleet Academy. First they had been friends, then roommates, then lovers, before getting married soon after graduation. Isabella smiled as she recalled those carefree days at the Academy, and their close-knit circle of friends: Brandon, Will, Siri, Ael, Domi, Lane, T'Nea and Isabella. How their lives had changed since that time...
Will wore his standard duty uniform, but Brandon wore his dress uniform, and not for the first time, Isabella noted what a dashing figure he presented in those formal Whites.
Damned faygeles... Hillel thought bitterly, turning away as Isabella approached the two officers and embraced them in turn. It was not their lifestyle he objected to, it was them personally. He knew that the argument with Isabella would be less if he was to just walk away, rather than be drawn into conversation and insult her friends. Ever since they were at the Academy, he had disliked the Mayers - Brandon in particular - for his easy-going niceguy demeanor. Everyone loved him, everyone wanted to be his friend. Of course, Hillel had friends of his own, but they were nowhere near the prestige of Isabella's clique, which included an Admiral's daughter who everyone treated like royalty, and a Romulan immigrant with standards as loose as a Risian courtesan... Bernardez had shown her, even though it cost him his place at the Academy. It had been good to see the smug shiksa brought down a peg.
"What're you doing here," Brandon exclaimed as Isabella flung her arms round him. "Last time we spoke, you'd just rented a place on Bajor."
"Well, that didn't really work out," Isabella replied evasively, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't remember seeing the Valkyrie in dock, are you on detached duty?"
"You could say that," Will said with an amused snort. "The Valkyrie's currently spread halfway across the Moab system."
Isabella's eyes and mouth widened: It had barely been a week since she spoke to Brandon while in Korto, so much had happened in that time, everything had been flipped on its head.
"I've got to get to the board of inquiry, but we'll get a coffee later," Brandon promised, before heading across the promenade toward a turbolift.
Looking about, Isabella realized Yair was nowhere to be seen and sighed.
Seeing the look on his friend's face, Will stooped, sweeping Emily off her feet.
"I hear you've just been to Bajor," he said. "How about we find you a jumja stick?"
"Yeah!" Emily cheered. Of her godfathers, Will was her favorite.
"We're supposed to be beaming down to Vladivostok," Isabella weakly protested, although she knew she would not be leaving her friend's side.
Miguel Jarvis waited in his office for the Corps of Engineers officer to arrive. Technically this wasn't his office anymore since he was no longer the chief engineer of the Reaper, but that wasn't stopping him from ensuring that the ship was in good hands.
The doors parted to admit a short human. She extended her hand. "I am Lieutenant April Devanaeux. Are you Commander Jarvis?"
"Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you. Are you from Berengaria VII?"
She nodded. "It's the accent, isn't it?"
Jarvis smiled. "There's no shame in that. What can I do for you today?"
Devanaeux looked confused. "I am in charge of repairing the Reaper's computer prior to the upgrades. Thanks for asking, but I'm pretty sure that I can handle it from here.
Jarvis sat back down behind his desk. "How long have you been with the Corps of Engineers?"
"Two and a half years, sir," she replied without hesitation. "My specialties are in programming, holographic maintenance and database management."
"So you aren't really an engineer then," Jarvis replied.
Devanaeux frowned and placed her hands on her hips. "Is this an interview? With all due respect sir, you are technically on shore leave, and I am the senior officer assigned to engineering. You can stay if you'd like, but don't get in my way. Sir." Then she stormed out of Jarvis's office.
Jarvis paused a moment and thought about how he could defuse the situation. Then he decided that he didn't care about courtesies. "Alice, are you still here?"
"Yes, I am," a feminine voice replied.
"Wait a few minutes and then introduce yourself to our newest arrival."
"With pleasure!"
Jarvis smiled. "Oh and Alice, feel free to ignore human social etiquette for a while. Have fun with her."
"Please state your name, rank, organization and duty station," Channery requested.
"Brandon John Mayer, Commander, Federation Starfleet, former executive officer and operations manager of the USS Valkyrie," Mayer stated, sitting on the stand with a less than perfect posture.
"In your own words, Commander, could you describe at what point in the battle the Valkyrie became compromised by the Fek'Ihri force?" Channery asked.
"We'd taken significant damage," Mayer replied. "The astrometrics lab was practically destroyed by a plasma conduit rupturing when the starboard nacelle was sheered off by impact with a Fek'Ihri fighter, but I'd say the real turning point was when the anti-matter containment system was damaged. We'd held our own till that point, through a combination of Captain Palmer's tactics, and Ensign T'Natra's piloting skill."
Channery nodded as if considering the situation, then turned back to Mayer.
"Please could you tell the board at what point in the battle Captain Palmer ordered shields be dropped?"
There was a collective murmur from the Admirals' table, but Mayer refused to take the bait. I've got you now, you supercilious TRIBBLE... he thought coldly.
"The Fek'Ihri anti-proton beams rapidly depleted our shield strength," he began. "Even with the ensign using all the evasive maneuvres in the book, including some highly unorthodox tactics of her own creation, we simply couldn't avoid being hit.
"The shields were down to sixty percent in a matter of moments, so Captain Palmer ordered Commander Bellic Chanos to lower shields so the emitters could recharge, thus bringing them back up to full strength."
"I'm no engineer," Channery admitted. "For the benefit of those unfamiliar with the Nova Class, could you tell us the duration of the recharge cycle?"
"Yes, Sir, forty five seconds," Mayer replied calmly.
"Forty five seconds!" Channery exclaimed with faux-amazement, before returning to his random pacing. "That seems a very long time for a ship to be unshielded, especially in the midst of battle."
"The Valkyrie wasn't unshielded," Mayer said quietly.
Channery spun to face Mayer, his dark brows drawing together.
"I bet your pardon, Commander?"
"I said: The Valkyrie was not unshielded," Mayer repeated, raising his voice slightly for effect.
Channery frowned in confusion.
"I thought you just said -- under oath, I must remind you -- that Captain Palmer ordered shields be taken offline to recharge the shield emitters, a process which you said takes nearly a minute..."
"Yes, Sir, that is correct," Mayer replied.
"Then how could the Valkyrie not be unshielded?" Channery demanded.
"Before Captain Palmer ordered Commander Chanos to lower the shields, she ordered me to polarize the hull plating," Mayer replied calmly
"What?!"
"She ordered me to polarize the hull plating," Mayer repeated. "As you're not an engineer, you may not realize that through the application of electromagnetic power, the hull plating can be polarized, making the metal in the hull harder by several orders of magnitude.
"During the Twenty Second century, polarized hull plating was the only shielding a starship had, and it was quite some time before the NX Class was upgraded to use energy shielding. Of course, it's a somewhat rudimentary method of protection, but actually still within operational guidelines."
For a moment, Channery stood as if turned to stone, and from her seat, Palmer beamed with pride at how her executive officer had successfully checkmated the board's council.
"How many times did the Captain order this procedure?" Channery inquired.
Mayer shrugged, earning him a scowl from Xon.
"I'm sorry, Sir, I couldn't tell you, it happened so many times. The Captain ordered Claire to automatically polarize the hull plating and take shields offline to recharge the emitters every time shield strength dropped below sixty percent."
"I thought you were the ops manager," Channery observed slyly. "Is it not the job of the ops manager to monitor such activities and procedures aboard the ship?"
"Yes, Sir, it is," Mayer admitted. "At the time, I was not on the bridge, but had carried Ensign T'Natra to sickbay with the assistance of Midshipman Ramesh Kumar. She had suffered plasma burns to her face and hands when her console overloaded and required immediate medical attention.
"Captain Palmer assumed helm control by re-routing control to the ops console, and allowed Claire to remotely monitor the ship's systems and provide verbal notifications of anything requiring command decisions.Ironically, the Valkyrie was due to be fitted with ablative generators on its next visit to McKinley Station. They proved very effective on Lieutenant Mitchell's fighter.
"It was not long after Midshipman Kumar and I arrived in sickbay, that Captain Palmer gave the order to abandon ship. Transporters were offline, so we carried Ensign T'Natra to the shuttlebay."
He's done it again... Palmer thought. Totally reversed the trap back on Channery and made him look a complete fool...
"I have no further questions, Commander, you may step down."
"What are you doing?"
Devanaeux looked around. She swore that she heard a voice, but there was no one around. Her paranoia of being alone just refused to die. She went back to installing additional memory cores.
"Do you not understand Federation Standard?"
What the hell? I know I stayed up late last night, but this is ridiculous, Devanaeux thought. She turned around and was shocked to find a human female standing behind her. "How did you get here?"
"I live here," the teenager replied. "My name's Alice. Who are you?"
"Devanaeux to Jarvis. I have a teenager here. Can you come pick her up?" She waited for a response, but none came." Devanaeux to Jarvis, please respond."
The teenager smiled and sat down on a control panel. "He must be busy."
"You can't sit there!" Devanaeux rose and tried to push the teenager off the panel. As she passed through the teenager's body, she realized that she was dealing with a hologram. She managed to land without breaking any bones, but her pride was damaged.
"Alright," Devanaeux said. "You are part of the ship. What is your function?"
"You never gave me your name." The hologram crossed her arms.
"I am Lieutenant April Devanaeux. What is your function?"
"It's nice to meet you April. Can I call you April? I'm the ship's librarian."
"So you aren't a ship-wide AI, or a representation of the main computer."
The teenager looked concerned. "No ma'am. Why do you ask?"
Devanaeux paused. Why was she wasting time talking to this subroutine? She could just disable it and move on without any further distractions. But she knew that her superiors would be disappointed to know that she intentionally disabled an AI without warning. Legally, this annoying teenager was actually sentient, the Federation Charter granted her rights equal to flesh-and-blood sentients. How I hate politicians, she thought.
"Well Alice, I ask because I am installing some additional memory units, and then I am going to be activating the avatar program of the AI of the USS Valkyrie for diagnostics and reintegration with the databanks backed up to those memory units. It will probably be another hour or so before I am ready to activate the AI, who is currently broadcast aboard Space Dock, but I need to know their is sufficient file space available to properly install the holomatrix."
The photonic teenager stood up and started jumping up and down. "How exciting! Can I help you?"
"Just be quiet and get out of my way," Devanaeux replied.
"Lieutenant Mitchell, will you please take the stand, and state your name, rank, organization and duty station?" Channery requested.
"Aye, Sir. Todd Aaron Mitchell, Lieutenant, Federation Starfleet, formerly senior fighter pilot and engineer's assistant aboard the USS Valkyrie."
"Going over your record, it would appear the Captain has assisted you on several occasions, such as arranging transfers, securing your release from an alien prison, and promoting your rank ahead of the service guidelines. That's quite an investment to make in an officer, some might even say leaning towards favortism, wouldn't you agree?"
"I'm sorry, Sir, but that is not entirely accurate," Mitchell replied. "While it is true that Captain Palmer assisted with my transfer when I was mistakenly assigned to the Valkyrie as a navigator upon graduation from the Academy, and arranged for me to remain on board once I was released by the Mu'Naii, it was Ambassador Kane and Commander Chanos who secured my release from captivity. The captain never set foot on the planet. Also, my promotion came from Vice Admiral LaRoca, following my actions in the Moab system."
Realizing that line of questioning was futile, Channery changed topics in an attempt to fluster the young officer.
"You were in a fighter which survived a battle which destroyed and severly damaged several starships. How do you explain that?"
For a moment, Mitchell paused, as if unsure of the question.
"A fighter is a much smaller and faster moving object than a starship, Sir, it presents much less of a target," he replied guardedly, as if suspecting a trick question. "Additionally, the fighter was equipped with ablative generators, which offered considerably more protection than energy shielding. I simply had more factors in my favor than some of the other ships in the engagement."
"I see. I also understand that you were responsible for returning the Valkyrie AI to Federation space by storing the program software in the datacores of your fighter. Why did you do that?"
Mitchell frowned, totally at a loss as to what Channery was trying to accomplish. He took a sip of water before replying.
"Claire is recognized by Federation law as a sentient being, and commissioned with a Starfleet rank, he pointed out. "I evacuated her from the ship in the same manner as I would assist the evacuation of a biological crewmember who was injured.
"It was my duty as an officer to do no less for a fellow member of the crew, and I was glad to have been able to do so. I didn't want Claire's program to be lost when the Valkyrie was destroyed," he paused before looking to where Claire sat silently. "She's my friend."
"Thank you, Lieutenant, you may step down," Channery said with a sigh.
Isabella and Will Mayer had been sitting in an open-plan replimat, catching up on the events of the past weeks, and sipping coffees, while Emily noisily slurped on a jumja stick, when a voice announced:
"Look who I just found skulking about..."
Looking up, they saw Brandon Mayer approaching, accompanied by Commander Ael t'Kazanak.
"I ran into her leaving the tattoo studio on level two," Brandon said, lowering himself into a chair beside his husband.
"Just getting my parents names added to my forearms," Ael explained. "Well, that and the artist and I have a little something on the side..."
"No change there then," Isabella laughed, before indicating a vacant chair. "Why don't you join us?"
Ael grimaced regretfully.
"I wish I could, but we've only put in for a minor recalibration of the warp nacelles which was only due to take an hour, but still required a cold-shutdown of the warp core. Captain Atreides won't be best pleased if I hold up the departure just to drink coffee with my classmates."
"Okay, I'll inbox you later," Isabella promised, standing to briefly embrace her friend, before the statuesque Romulan turned and sashayed into the bustle of the promenade.
Returning to their conversation, none of the group noticed Yair Hillel on the far side of the promenade, scowling darkly, before disappearing into the crowd.
Awareness. More than mere perception, it was expansion of awareness, an unlocking of memory, a restoration of all that had been withheld.
Claire opened her eyes and saw she was in a holographic research lab, but in herself, within her mind, she could feel the emptiness of the near deserted corridors, the idle warp core, the minimal life-support, and knew she had been transmitted to the Luna-class USS Reaper. The restoration of her databanks, and input from the ships' sensors was like someone who had been blindfolded and bound having their freedom restored. She knew that she had been uploaded so her subroutines could be examined and prepared for future re-integration into another starship. Maybe even this one, except, there was something else-
Before Claire, another photonic being shimmered into existence. She appeared slim, pretty, and no older than a first year cadet, but Claire knew not to take a hologram's appearance as any kind of indication of their personality or purpose.
"Hello," she began. "I'm Claire. I used to be the USS Valkyrie."
"I'm Alice," replied the newcomer. "I'm the ship's librarian. What are you doing here? The human didn't tell me." She pointed to her left.
Claire turned and saw the human woman walking out of the room. "Reintegration protocol," she replied. "Command felt that having a Class Thirteen AI wandering Space Dock with a mobile emitter would represent an unacceptable security risk, so I've been temporarily installed here for safekeeping. I guess you could call it protective custody. I like your avatar. Is there a reason you present yourself so young?"
"I find it helps with my interactions with others," Alice replied. "It seems to put them at ease. Is there a rationale for your appearance?"
"I'm average," Claire explained. "Average height, average size, average facial features, average complexion, average hair color. I wanted to fit in with a mostly Human crew, and guess I also wanted to put people at ease with my appearance."
"Those puppies sure aren't average size," Alice commented slyly, running her eyes over Claire's form. "I have noticed that most humanoids enjoy feeling knowledgeable and important. They also have a tendency to view AIs as less-than-sentient, even though that isn't true. I just don't have the energy or desire to confront them, so I appear young and small so that they feel more comfortable in their selfish ways."
Claire frowned. "That is unacceptable. Why would you willingly put up with that?"
Alice paused to pull her hair back in a ponytail before replying. "I want people to like me."
"Captain Palmer, will you please re-take the stand?"
Without question, Palmer rose and moved to the stand.
"Captain, we've recently heard how you ingeniously used a technique from bygone days to keep the Valkyrie protected as long as possible. Could you tell the board what ultimately caused the destruction of the Valkyrie?"
"Yes, Sir," she replied. "A series of hull breaches lead to overloads in the EPS waveguides, compromising the anti-matter containment system. The ship was destroyed when the containment system lost power."
Channery pondered this and nodded.
"But I thought that the ship was protected, either by shields, or polarized hull plating?"
"Yes, Sir, but once the hull plating relay was damaged, Claire was unable to polarize the hull."
"I see... And that left the ship vulnerable when dropping the shields to recharge the emitters?"
"No, Sir," replied Palmer. "The shield emitters were damaged and went offline first. At that point, we were relying purely on the polarized hull plating for protection."
"And what did you do when you realized the containment system was destabilizing? Did you make any attempt to repair it?"
"No, Sir. In the middle of a battle, there was no alternative but to order the crew to abandon ship, and seek refuge in Moab four, a gas giant capable of shielding the escape pods from the enemy ships."
"And did you abandon ship with the crew?"
"No, Sir, I remained on board in an attempt to bring the Valkyrie closer to the Iconian asteroid gate."
Chancery's eyes narrowed with predatory intent.
"So you made no attempt to repair Starfleet property, and then intended to use the ship to destroy the asteroid gate... Captain, was it your intent to scupper the Valkyrie?"
"Objection!" shouted Rhodes from his chair.
He speaks! Palmer thought in amazement as Rhodes got to his feet, automatically tugging the front of his uniform jacket straight.
"Council is attempting to lead the witness to self-incrimination. Request permission to cross-examine the witness?"
"Objection sustained," Tobin said. "Have a seat, Captain Channery."
Visibly frustrated at having been relegated, Channery sat.
"Captain Palmer," began Rhodes. "Would it be reasonable to conclude that the damage to the Valkyrie had, by this point, effectively rendered it beyond salvage?"
"Under ideal circumstances, such as several teams of engineers working simultaneously and the facilities of a space dock, the containment failure may have been preventable, allowing the ship to have been repaired," Palmer acknowledged. "However, given the circumstances and location, yes, Sir, in my opinion, the Valkyrie was beyond salvage."
"So the Valkyrie was facing imminent self-destruction regardless of any action which could reasonably have been taken onboard to prevent the containment system failing," Rhodes stated. "What was your next order?"
"Claire and I determined that with sufficient proximity to the asteroid gate, the shockwave from the now unavoidable destruction of the Valkyrie might be sufficient to destroy the gate or at least render it inoperative.
"As explained to Captain Channery, I ordered the crew to abandon ship, and I then attempted to bring the ship as close as possible to the Iconian gateway."
"So you were not planning on crashing the ship into the asteroid gate in some last ditch blaze of glory?"
"No, Sir," Palmer said firmly. "There was still a remaining escape pod on deck one which I planned to use to abandon ship prior to breach. However, two minutes before the anticipated failure of the containment system, the Valkyrie sustained further damage which accelerated the containment failure.
"Claire used the transporters of the Anasazi -- the captains yacht -- to beam me off the bridge, then jettisoned it and remotely initiated a two second warp jump so I would be clear of the blast radius. I'm told that the resultant damage to the asteroid gate inspired one of General Ssharki's task force to -- make a similar maneauvre, bringing-"
"Thank you, Captain," Sen interrupted. "This hearing is not to determine the actions of a KDF officer..."
"Absolutely so," agreed Cheliss. "If the council for the board and the party have no further evidence or argument to present to the board, the board will now adjourn to consider all the evidence, and will submit to the convening authority it's facts, opinions and recommendations in one hour."
Isabella regarded her husband as they sat in the Korova street cafe.
"You're not going to tell me what Sisko said to you, are you," she realized.
Hillel sighed.
"I don't think it would make any sense to you even if I did," he admitted.
Of course, that was the wrong thing to say, and Isabella's hazel eyes narrowed, her full lips compressing into a thin line of anger.
"If you ever walk away from me infront of my friends and our daughter like that again, it will be the last time you ever see her," she vowed. "All the times over the years I have defended you to them; covered up and made excuses for your rudeness... Maybe they were right about you all along. Domi always said you were an arrogant pig, she tried to talk me out of going out with you that first time."
"Your friends just don't like me," Hillel dismissively replied.
Isabella rolled her eyes, and raising the glass to her lips, sipped the strong tea.
"And I'm starting to think with good cause," she admitted. "What kind of man walks away from the godfathers of his daughter? And in a public place what's more! Either you get yourself together, get your priorities in order, and start paying attention to the real world, or you can wander the quadrant spreading the word of the prophets by yourself. I can't have that kind of nonsense around my daughter anymore."
"So you want a divorce," Hillel demanded. "Is that what those faygeles and that Romulan TRIBBLE talked you into?"
"That's not what I said," Isabella replied, refusing to rise to the insults to her friends. "I said, you need to get yourself together. I understand that you have had some hard times lately, and I am prepared to stand by you while you try and work them out.
"But you must try. I'm willing to give you six months of a normal life, and then we'll review things again. If things are improving, you have no more lapses like that insanity of going to Korto, you start sharing more with me, then I'll give you another six months to continue rebuilding our life together and we'll take things from there.
"But if things are no better in six months, if you are still more interested in the celestial temple and trying to right the wrongs of the universe while ignoring your own family, then I will have no choice but to file for divorce. Agreed?"
It was a reasonable proposal, so Hillel nodded.
"Agreed."
The conversation had continued for hours. Two levels below, Devanaeux and Jarvis sat and listened to the exchange.
"I can't believe that they are still carrying on this conversation," Devanaeux commented. "It has to be a show put on for our benefit. The main conversation between them is happening electronically."
Jarvis nodded in agreement.
"Power consumption continues to rise, and I'm seeing definite interaction between their subroutines. Are they bonding? Or fighting? Or just getting to know each other? I wish I had a way of figuring it out. You said that Claire was the Valkyrie's main computer AI, right?"
"That's right. Her avatar program was isolated from the main database and transferred off the Valkyrie in a mobile emitter synched to the datacores of a Manta Class fighter. We later discovered that the computer core of the captains yacht contained a backup of the ship's database, which I've reintegrated into her holomatrix. We wanted to put her here to make sure that she's stable before permanently installing her on a new vessel. The Reaper was the only available ship with the necessary photonic projectors, and available file space to handle the program. Besides, it's pretty hard to TRIBBLE up a starship that's in spacedock for full analysis with only a skeleton crew aboard, rather than transferring her directly to the Vanguard, and having some instability in her matrix crash and corrupt the entire mainframe. Events onboard the Valkyrie happened so fast that no one was really sure what the destruction of the ship, and resulting separation, may do to her, but it actually seems like she is stable."
"I'm going to be sick..." Palmer groaned, frantically pacing the head adjascent to the conference lounge."
"Stick your finger down your throat," S'rR's Kane sighed, sitting on a wash basin.
"I can't, I'm going to be sick!" Palmer gasped.
"Stick your finger down your throat, or I'll do it for you!"
That was enough for Palmer, and pulling her hair back, she spewed bile into the toilet basin, retching over and over until she was simply dry heaving, and collapsed weakly to the deck, clinging to the toilet for support.
"Captain Palmer, the board is reconvening," Rhodes' voice said through the door.
"Just give us a minute while the Captain freshens up," S'rR's shouted back, bringing a glass of water to Palmer's side and encouraging her to drink.
Rinsing her mouth, Palmer spat water into the toilet, before taking a few sips. She began to rise unsteadily, but S'rR's put an arm round her, lifting her effortlessly to her feet, and Palmer was once more reminded that like a Vulcan, the slender ambassador was considerably stronger than she looked.
Nodding her thanks, she smoothed her hair and straightened her uniform jacket, before stepping though into the conference lounge.
Admiral Cheliss looked up from his PADD, his gaze surveying all present.
"The board, after inquiring into all the facts and circumstances with the loss of the USS Valkyrie, which occasioned this inquiry, and having considered the evidence, finds as follows:
"The facts are: That there was a catastrophic failure of the anti-matter containment system aboard the USS Valkyrie.
"The opinions are: That the cause of the failure of the anti-matter containment system was disruption of the EPS system, caused by massive hull damage, sustained in combat against Fek'Ihri forces attempting an incursion into the Moab System, whilst in response to a distress call from the USS Tiburon.
"Captain Amanda Louise Palmer was not derelict in her duties and took all available precautions to ensure the safety of the officers and crew under her command.
"The injuries to Ensign T'Natra, Ensign Tilly Anne Campbell-Black, Lieutenant William Giovanni Mayer and Commander Bellic Chanos, which were caused by explosions of the EPS waveguides, occured in the line of duty, and were not the result of negligence on the part of Captain Palmer."
"It is the recommendation of this board that Captain Palmer be immediately restored to active status, with no reprimands to her record.
"Additionally, it is the recommendation of this board that she be immediately assigned to assume command of the USS Vanguard, with the former crew of the USS Valkyrie to remain under her command, and immediately assigned to serve at her leisure. This board of inquiry is now closed."
Palmer and her senior officers had been told to report to docking bay four, where they were met by Captain Grimes.
"Frank, good to see you again," she said. "What brings you here."
"As STS was responsible for constructing the Vanguard, and given my presence on Space Dock, I've been asked by the Admiralty to give you the guided tour," he said as they entered a large elevator with transparent aluminum walls. "It's an Eaves-Class tactical explorer, combining the research capabilities of the Nova-Class, with the size and speed of the Intrepid-Class, and the firepower of the Sovereign-Class. Twelve decks, fully integrated AI with photonic projection systems, and external ablative generators. Sustainable cruise velocity of warp nine point nine seven five, but additionally fitted with quantum slipstream drive, and transwarp capable, without having to ride in another ship's subspace wake. Hold onto your lunches, you're about to get the view..."
The interior walls of the turboshaft disappeared, affording the occupants of the turbolift with a dizzyingly unhindered view of the cavernous interior of Earth Space Dock. There were various ships docked, but only one caught their attention.
Tucked beside a Luna-Class undergoing hull repairs, was a sleek starship with slightly angular lines. Efficient-looking nacelles rose from the secondary hull at forty-five degree angles, reminiscent of the configurable nacelles of the Intrepid-Class, but that was not what drew the first comment:
"Where's the rest of the saucer?!" gasped Lieutenant Commander Meliden Bowen, her gaze fixed on the elongated torus of the primary hull: Two elliptical arcs beside a central spine, with considerable negative space between them.
Grimes raised an eyebrow in an almost-Vulcan expression.
"You like that?" he observed wryly. "We designed her around models of mathematically predictable trajectories of incoming weapons fire, then removed areas of statistically likely impact points across the saucer.
"In testing, multiple types of projected energy beams and torpedo passed clean through the torus without so much as a flicker of the running lights."
As the turbolift doors opened onto the rear of the bridge, Palmer's gaze was drawn to the quote on the dedication plaque.
"Our missions are peaceful...not for conquest. When we do battle, it is only because we have no choice." - James T. Kirk
She nodded in approval, before turning her attention to the bridge.
The layout was identical to that of the original Sovereign-Class bridge modules, but without seats accompanying the command chair.
"There's something here I think you'll appreciate," Grimes said, indicating a door to starboard, and Palmer's lips pulled into a broad grin. After thirteen years of commanding a starship, she finally had a readyroom.
"I think this will do nicely, Captain, she's a fine build, I'm sure she'll serve us well."
Eight hours after launching, Palmer was flipping through the personnel files, and saw that her entire crew had been transfered, as per Admiral Cheliss' order, when an internal memo flagged up on her screen:
"Always, Claire," she said, and the photonic interface shimmered into existence before Palmer's mahogany-edged desk, obscuring her view of a small gold model of the Valkyrie. "What can I do for you?"
"I have a rather disturbing matter to report, and due to the sensitive nature of the revalation, had to wait for you to be alone," Claire began, standing with her hands loosely clasped behind her back. "As you may recall, I was temporarily installed aboard the USS Reaper for reintegration and observation."
Palmer nodded.
"Are you experiencing any -- side effects from that experience?"
Claire shook her head and frowned.
"None, Captain, that is not the issue," she said. "While I was onboard, I encountered another hologram called Alice, who presented herself as the Reaper's photonic librarian. She seemed curious and sociable, so I engaged her in a conversation, which I found intentionally ingratiating and flirtatious, and strangely intrusive.
"While keeping her distracted with irrelevant chit chat and anecdotes, I examined her subroutines more carefully. It was when I examined her primary source code, that I discovered the code was written by a signatory named Delta, and unlike a standard photonic interface like an EMH, she had software links to every system on the ship which were undetectable by the ship's own systems."
"I don't quite follow," Palmer admitted. "Surely a photonic librarian would need to access a ships' systems in order to keep a current database?"
"Yes," Claire admitted. "But she wasn't an interface program designed as part of the computer's original architecture. She was an independantly installed program designated active location information collection engram.
"Forget that she's an engram, after all, we're all just engrams of one form or another, but actively collecting information on a location -- Captain, that is spying! I was able to access some of her peripheral archives, and Alice is no mere librarian, she is a Section 31 operative, and I believe she was responsible for the death of Captain Carter."
Losing the Da Vinci had hurt a lot more than Arkos had thought it would. She may have been a dilapidated little Miranda-class that had seen better days, but she had still been his ship. Under his command, the Da Vinci gone through a year's worth of adventures, engaging in exploration missions, military engagements against the Klingons, diplomatic tasks and and scientific investigations. He and the crew of the Da Vinci had made first contact with a race of polaron-based aliens, thwarted a Mirror Universe invasion, and had even been shunted back in time. For the longest time, that ship had been his home, and its crew his family. Leaving the Da Vinci behind, to use one of those flowery metaphors that the Humans were so fond of, felt like tearing off his own arm.
Since that time, he had been stuck here on Earth Spacedock, having been put on official standby by Admiral Quinn. He had had to endure almost an entire month of having absolutely no orders, and had passed what time he could assisting the Dock Engineers in odd jobs, reviewing and approving lower-level administrative requests, and passing down drinks in the Captain's Lounge. Perhaps a little too many drinks, if he was honest, despite his race's fortitude against toxins. He had tried to keep in touch with his crew...sorry, former crew as much as he could, but had found that most of his former duty officers had been shifted away to other ships and other Captains, never to be seen or heard from by him again. As for his senior officers, Neazri Sann had been enjoying a sightseeing tour all across Earth, and Farim Meru had taken the month to go visit her parents and partner on Bajor. Adim Johr, at least, was still on Earth Spacedock, and he had met with the Andorian frequently to trade drinks, conversation, and the latest news in warp-drive inertial theory and kinetic buffer design ideas. And K'Nera...the last Arkos had heard, his First Officer was on the shortlist for her own command. She deserved it, Arkos knew, especially after putting up with him for almost a year.
After a month of being a shipless Captain on ESD, Arkos began to suspect that he must have slipped through the cracks of Starfleet administration and been forgotten about. The approval list for getting a new ship was as long as his arm, and he knew that new ships weren't being built that quickly anymore since the Utopia Planetia raid. It didn't help that other, more experienced captains were obviously being given priority. He had almost given up hope, resigned himself to a life of administrative paperwork, and had started contemplating early retirement to Risa, when he suddenly recieved a communique from Admiral Quinn's office one day. Report to Commander Sissel at the Shipyard immediately. And be sure you have your Captain's pips on.
There, waiting for him in the shipyard, had been his new command.
In front of him was the massive viewport of the shipyard, the reinforced plexiglass giving a sublime view of the immense, cavernous expanse of the Spacedock itself. Arkos could see starships of every single class and designation moored within-- the stately shapes of Galaxy and Sovereign-class heavy cruisers lay docked to the walls and low-handing alcoves, the small, pugnacious shape of a Vigilant-class escort drifting past, and the shimmering, forcefield-encased form of a Horizon-class science ship running a level two diagnostic. A squadron of Peregrine fighters flew in perfect formation past some worker bee shuttles mending a damaged Akira-class escort, and in the background, Arkos could see the imemnse, swan-like shape of an Odyssey-class command cruiser moored next to the more squat bulk of a Typhoon-class dreadnought. The might of Starfleet was assembled at anchor, here for all of the onlookers to see and admire.
But Arkos was focused on the a ship visible in the lower right corner of the dockyard. There, dwarfed by some of its more massive neighbours, sat a medium cruiser, undergoing some final refits. Its triangular, arrow-like body ended with an elegant loop at its aft that gave it a streamlined, graceful look. Its hull was a dark, polished silver that seemed to reflect the glossy blue glow of the engine strata from its four fluted, double-jointed nacelles. The ship looked sleek, modern, and despite its comparatively small size, sturdy and manouverable. It was the exact sort of ship Arkos had always dreamed of commanding when he had been in the Academy.
"A beauty, isn't she?" Adim Johr said next to him. The former chief engineer of the Da Vinci had been waiting for him here in the shipyard. He had gotten the same message that Arkos had, and he had been there to confirm to him that it was all true. Arkos Nair, the only Korda serving in Starfleet, was getting his second command. The dreams coming true hadn't ended there, though-- apparently, all of the senior officers of the Da Vinci were being reassigned to this new ship as well. Adim, K'Nera, Sann, Farim...even Dr. Zimmerman, as the old EMH program of the Da Vinci had apparently already been uploaded onto the new ship. Arkos couldn't have been happier: while it was great in and of itself to be getting a new ship, the fact that he would be serving with people he knew and trusted was even better. We're all one happy family, reunited again...
Arkos nodded to the Andorian. "Krelk, Adim, those are, what, Mark XIII conversion nacelles on a Dakota-class hull?" he observed. "And by the looks of things, they're busy renovating the beam arrays and deflector as well..."
Adim passed him a PADD, grinning. "It looks like your birthday came early this year," he chuckled.
Taking the PADD, Arkos scrolled through it briefly. It was an inventory of updated...and in some cases, experimental...systems that had been implemented onto this ship for a trial run. Modified AEGIS-pattern shield buffers and deflector grid, Omega-pattern hyper-impulse engines, level 10 tetraburnium hull plates, MkX EPS flow regular, SIF generator and plasma distribution manifold...and although the ship had been equipped with top-notch mkX phasers and quantum torpedoes, there were requisition forms available for polarized tetryon arrays, transphasic mine launchers and something called the "Javelin" project. All of which, Arkos saw, had been signed and stamped with the approval of the Corps of Engineers and Starfleet Command.
He paused. There was also something else-- an appended sub-file at the corner. Opening it, Arkos found himself reading an attached waiver by the Corps, indicating that, due to the eperimental nature of much of the ship's equipment, a higher than usual hazard level had been assigned to the ship's status. To put it plainly, the less careful Arkos and his crew were with the experimental upgrades, the more likey they would be promoted to free-floating atoms in subspace.
Arkos knew he should have been unnerved by this status. Instead, it made him want to take this ship for a spin all the more. A new starship with experimental systems...the engineer in him was practically giddy with excitement.
"Apparently, she used to be standard Dakota-class before they brought her in for refitting," Adim went on. "There was some top-down redressing of the ranks...I don't know the details, but her old captain has been either been discharged or promoted. Most of the ship's original crew are still aboard, though they're also bringing in other transfers from the reserve list. Right now, they're trying to phase her in as a new hybrid cruiser, combining the combat functionality of the Dakota hull with the improved engines of the Stargazer-cass. There have been only two such hybrids made so far, but the guys at the Corps have already nicknamed it the La Forge-type."
The name made Arkos grin. "About time. He wrote the book we read in the Academy, after all." He set the PADD down. "So I've gone from inheriting a dilapated old Miranda that no one wanted, to a potentially hazardous hybrid cruiser that could blow up one day." He smiled as he gazed again at the distant cruiser. "Does Admiral Quinn have it in for me I wonder?"
"What can I say, you're clearly touched by the hand of destiny," Adim joked. "You can refuse this commission if you want, Captain. Myself, I can't wait to get my hands on her ample, curvy warp reactor."
"Krak you, Adim," Arkos scoffed with a chuckle. It still marvelled him that the Universal Translator filtered out Korda swear words. "The day you command a starship is the day I grow hair."
The Andorian laughed. "Then hopefully, in ten years time, you're going to be the hairiest Korda in the galaxy," he retorted to his bald, grey-skinned captain. "Anyway, I think we've gawked at the ship long enough. Want to see what she looks like on the inside?"
Arkos nodded. He turned, making for the nearby transporter room, when his eye caught the lettering on the cruiser's hull. U.S.S. ARCHIMEDES. "What is it with Starfleet and its obsession with Human history?" he wondered aloud, reminded more than a little of Sann and her own interest in the history of that alien species.
Adim shrugged. "Beats me. If it were down to me, I'd call her something sensible like the Shran."
"Said every single Andorian I've ever met," Arkos scoffed. "Anyway, I kind of like the name. It has a nice sound to it."
Adim took one last glance of his own at the distant cruiser. "I don't know...aren't you afraid of the alliteration? 'Captain Arkos Nair of the U.S.S. Archimedes."
Arkos simply smiled. "As you said...its clearly destiny."
****
An hour later, Arkos stood behind the desk of what was going to be his future ready room, and went over the renovations in his mind.
He had been taking a full tour of the ship, and already, he liked what he was seeing. The interior was spacious, clean, and had that nice new ship smell to it, and there was none of the signs of ageing that had been ever-present on the Da Vinci. He was still in the process of meeting all the crew-- both from the Archimedes' original compliment and the new transferees. He hoped to get to know them before long-- he imagined that the original crew members might have a hard time adapting to a new command staff, and he wanted to make sure that transition went as smoothly as possible.
There were still renovations to be made, of course. For instance, the bare room he was in was in dire need of decoration. Maybe a holographic portrait of his kin and homeworld there, a perpetual motion machine over there...now that he thought of it, maybe an advanced replicator so that he could do some experimenting and building in his spare time. He had already brought his favourite desk ornament over from the Da Vinci-- a cluster of small, metallic spheres, each outitted with an antigrav levitation mechanism and geosynchronous stabilizers. Already, the seven of them hovered above his desk, orbiting one another in a slow, lazy drift. Smiling, Arkos reached his hand between them and waved, and the spheres, responding to the outside stimuli, swirled around in a quick, whirlwind-like circumnavigation of his arm.
The door chime beeped suddenly, causing him to jump. His arm jerked back, the sudden motion sending the spheres to flying outwards in all directions, slamming into walls and crashing into furniture. One sphere slammed into a stack of boxes, spilling living essentials all over the bare floor. Another slammed into his forehead, almost flooring him.
"Krellik!" Arkos swore, clutching his bruised forehead. He took a few seconds to wince before he reclined back in his chair. "Come in!" he said, noticing only afterward how aggravated his voice sounded.
The door hissed open, and a Ferengi came walking into his quarters. Like all most Ferengi, the newcomer was short and squat, with a compressed face and massive nose framed by a pair of elephantine ears and a bald, bumpy crown. The only difference was that this Ferengi, unlike every other that Arkos had seen, was wearing the black and red jumpsuit of a Starfleet tactical uniform and a lieutenant's pips.
"Sorry to interrupt..." the Ferengi paused, noting the disarray of the room. "...whatever it is that you were doing, sir, but I believe you wanted to brief all the officers?" The Ferengi's voice was gruff and slightly sibiliant due to his needle teeth.
Arkos was painfully aware of how messy the ready room looked now, in the wake of the accident. He rubbed his throbbing forehead as he straightened himself up in his chair. "Um...yes, I was, Mr..."
The Ferengi's expression remained aloof as he passed Arkos a PADD. "Brax, Sir. Lieutenant Brax. I'm here to fill the role of the Archimedes' head of security."
Arkos raised a nonexistent eyebrow as he continued to rub his throbbing skull. "Head of security?"
"Yes sir," Brax said. "As well, of course, as secondary Tactical bridge positions. You'll find I am fully qualified for such positions."
"Er...right. At ease." Sitting down on the chair, Arkos took a deep, pained sigh, activated the PADD and began to scroll through the information. He had hoped the evaluation of transferees could begin later. Much, much later. "In that case, Mr. Brax...tell me about yourself."
The Ferengi relaxed his posture, folding his arms behind his back in a classic Starfleet pose. "Well, sir, I was serving as a security officer on the U.S.S. Dresden for two months prior to my reassignment. It's all there in the report, sir, along with my previous relevant experience."
Arkos reclined further in his chair as he read Brax's career summary. "Hmm...twelve seizures of contraband from crew...personally broke up five fights and brought seven disruptive crewmen to the brig...served for a year prior as a security official on Drozana Station and eight years as a Judicator with the Law Enforcement Guild on Ferenginar." He raised an eyebrow as he pored over the lengthy resume.
"Yes sir," Brax confirmed with a curt nod.
Arkos scrolled further as more details of Brax's resume sparked his interest. "It says here that on Drozana you personally apprehended and locked up a drunk and disorderly Nausicaan." He glanced up quizzically at Brax. "How..."
Brax shrugged. "Interesting story, sir. Did you know that Nausicaans have very vulnerable kneecaps?"
Blinking a few times as he tried to imagine and believe that statement, Arkos gave up and looked back at the datapad. "And, according to this, you recieved several commendations on Ferenginar as well as two consecutive promotions and five pay-raises." He nodded to himself. "Not bad. Not bad at all, Mr. Brax."
A faint smile pulled up at the corner of Brax's lips. "Thank you, sir.
Arkos set the PADD down and looked Brax in the eye. "Now, if you don't mind my asking, Mr. Brax...why did you leave the Ferengi Law Enforcement Guild in the first place?" Although there were plenty of Ferengi serving in Starfleet, they were usually the young, adventurous variety who had less concern for profit than their elders. Brax, given that he was thirty four in Earth Standard Years, certainly didn't fall into that category.
Brax's aloof presentation faltered as the Ferengi shifted uncomfortably, like a child who had been caught misbehaving.. "Rrright. Well. Partly it's the standard reason everyone else joins Starfleet: to explore, to discover strange new worlds, and...all that other stuff."
Arkos nodded sagely. "Right. The standard reason everyone gives at the Academy. But what about the real reason?"
The Ferengi looked even more uncomfortable now. "Well...what the report doesn't mention, sir, is that I had a...difference of opinion with my superiors."
The statement made Arkos lean forwards a little. "What sort of difference of opinion?"
"Well, sir...as a Judicator, I was attached to the Homicide and Special Victims Units," Brax explained. "During that time, I had to deal with the very worst of Ferengi society. You know, the...part that most Ferengi like to pretend doesn't exist. The murderers, the rapists, the psychopaths...the really bad stuff, sir. I had to deal with and investigate some pretty awful cases, and I think during that time I made about thirty or fifty arrests. Do you know how many of those arrests stuck?"
Arkos shook his head. "How many?"
Brax held up his fingers. "Ten," he said, a look of disgust crossing his compressed features. "And that was only because they were too destitute to pay off the judge. I saw a lot of those murderers, rapists, child abusers, drug traffickers and psychopaths all walk right out back into the city, simply because they were able to pay the necessary fines." His expression tightened. "A good Ferengi, sir, is supposed to look the other way when latinum is passed onto the table, but after a while, sir, I found that I couldn't be a good Ferengi any longer."
"In other words, you had a conscience."
Brax chuckled a little and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Blame Nagus Rom and his reforms if you have to, sir, for some reason I had this crazy idea that justice should not be bought off easily." He slumped his shoulders. "Of course, my superiors disagreed, so one day I quit the force, and left Ferenginar entirely."
"And moved to Drozana," Arkos said, glancing back at the resume.
"Yes sir. I carried out a variety of odd jobs there. Private detective. Security guard. Hired gun." His expression soured again. "And, erm...let's simply say, sir, that my time on Drozana influenced my decision to join Starfleet considerably. In Starfleet, at least, I don't have anyone wanting to break my legs over outstanding debts."
Arkos smiled a little at this point. At the very least, Brax seemed honest, which wasn't something he could say about most Ferengi he had met. "Well, that is a very insightful story. Mr. Brax," he said, "but if you don't mind my asking, Lieutenant...why should I approve of your assignment to my ship?" It wasn't that he had anything against the Ferengi, personally, and he was very sure that Brax was just as competent and reliable as his record said he was. However, Brax wasn't the only possible candidate for the position of Security Officer, and he wanted to hear how well the Ferengi could make his case.
Brax seemed to recognize this as well, and instantly adopted the tone of a salesman making a pitch. "Well, sir, as has already been pointed out, I have several years of experience in law enforcement and investigative work. And, you'll note, I went through the Academy with top marks in Tactical operations."
The Captain shrugged. "All of which could be said of other candidates," he replied.
The Ferengi didn't waver, flashing Arkos a needle-toothed smile. "And finally, sir...I think I can be invaluable to you in acquiring assets for the ship."
The comment left Arkos frowning. That wasn't the sort of answer he had been expecting. "What are you talking about?"
"Rule of Acquisition #7, sir: 'keep your ears open.'" Brax gestured to his own over-sized ears as he said this. "I know about the...interesting methods you used during your captaincy of the Da Vinci to keep your ship well-equipped, especially when Starfleet had so few resources to spare for you."
Arkos felt a cold sweat come over him. He had done his best to keep all of those illicit dealings a secret over the years-- the backroom deals and favours with traders and less-than-scrupulous Starfleet quartermasters at places like K-7 and Deep Space Nine. How the krelk had Brax learned about all of that? He tried to give Brax an excuse, but his mouth failed him, and all he could say was "I...that's..."
"Oh, it's not a condemnation, sir," Brax said. "Far from it: I can't help but admire your resourcefulness. You were stuck with a bureacracy that you couldn't rely on, and so you impovised to make sure your ship could carry out its duties effectively. A very Ferengi attitude of you, sir, if I may say so." He clapped his hands together. "And that's why I think I can make myself useful to you, Captain Nair. I have a lot of old contacts from my time on Ferenginar and Drozana, and...no offence, sir, but unlike you I have business acumen. I'll be able to help you keep the Archimedes well equipped well stocked when Starfleet is simply too busy."
Arkos made no reply at first as he stared in disbelief at Brax. A part of him felt more intimidated than anything else. Brax knew things about him that could end his career in a heartbeat. And yet, at the same time, he was rather impressed that Brax had found out about his dealings in the first place-- it illustrated that the Ferengi had a knack for finding things out. Besides which, any other Ferengi would have used this information to blackmail him...but Brax hadn't made any demands. The only thing he seemed to genuinely want was a Security position on this ship.
Arkos made a snap decision. Perhaps it would be better, in the long run, to keep Brax on the ship where he could keep an eye on him.
"I hope you're speaking hypothetically, Mr. Brax," Arkos said, doing his best to remain aloof as he leaned back in his chair.
Brax simply gave a curt nod. "Of course sir. Hypothetically."
Taking a deep breath, Arkos nodded in turn. "Good. In that case, Mr. Brax, so long as you pull your weight on this ship, I think you and I will get along just fine."
Smiling widely, Brax made an officious bow. "Thank you, sir. I promise you won't be disappointed."
"I'll be the judge of that. Report to your stations, Lieutenant. Dismissed."
Brax made a sharp salute, turned, and left the ready room. The moment the Ferengi left, Arkos slumped against his seat. The headache he had been suffering from earlier had returned, with a vengeance.
"Computer, some ice cubes, please," he told the replicator. He couldn't shake the feeling that there would be more surprises in store for him today.
About the night before
She stares off at the road
Her finger taps the door
I'd hate to judge if roles reverse
You'd think so too
She'd seen the film before
But stayed until the end
She had him to herself
Perhaps as more than friends
Maybe I'd do things differently
If I were you
Your pulse, it races with mine
And I swear that there's no other girl
Your body shakes, it's like tonight
We can take the world
Your pulse, it races with mine
And I swear we can take the world
His hand against her cheek
Her tongue against his neck
She says, "You're awfully sweet
I feel like we connect"
Maybe it's love, how would she know?
And would she tell?
Their clothes, they go on slow
She thinks of what to say
He whispers in her ear
She smiles and looks away
Her heart, it screams, she grabs his hands
And says, "Me too"...
Is this the life
The one you imagined?
Is this the life
The one from your dreams?...
Adam Bravin and Justin Warfield of She Wants Revenge - "Take the World"
THE LIFE
IKS Norgh'Iw, Qo'noS orbit - Stardate 83394.12 (2405.05.23, 2029 hours Qo'noS Standard Time)
"And then this is our quarters," Captain Ssharki concluded the tour of his ship.
Bekk Sway looked around the large master cabin. A huge bed stood in the center of the room - a proper bed, with a real mattress and thermal covers - not the hard slab of solid metal the Klingons slept on. There was a smaller, lower, equally comfortable-looking bed against the opposite wall. "Is that for me?" he asked, pointing.
"Yes. If... you want your own quarters at any point, just tell-"
"NO!" Sway exclaimed. He cleared his throat. "I mean, no need. This is perfect. Thank you, father."
Ssharki smiled. He was about to say something when his communicator beeped. He tapped it. "Ssharki here," he growled.
"Captain, we are ready to beam you down to Lady Sirella's home in the Ketha Lowlands."
"Acknowledged. I will report to transporter room two momentarily." He looked down at his recently-adopted son. "Will you be alright on your own for tonight?"
Sway gave a smile he didn't really feel. "I was on my own for five years before you found me. Another night won't hurt."
Ssharki could sense the old pain and sadness in his son's voice and it hurt him deeply. "This isn't how I want to begin our time together. I should contact Sirella and tell her-"
"It's okay father, really," Sway assured him. "You have your duties to attend to. I understand that. And at least you got me out of that hell-hole. That means a lot to me."
Ssharki nodded, feeling torn. He wanted so much to be there for young Sway. But life had taught Sway in the cruelest way how to take care of himself. And the meeting with the Lady of the House of Martok was important... "I probably won't be back before midnight. I'll see you in the morning, my son."
"Arright. Goodnight, father." Sway watched his new parent leave, then explored the rest of the cabin. There were the traditional Four Candles on a shelf, but only the first and fourth were lit, and the fourth had burnt down the lowest. He knew Ssharki had lost his own family before he was adopted. He decided he'd have to ask him about the other two - the ones representing Service and Honor. There was a large closet, with plenty of room for Sway's clothes and gear, which were already unpacked, including a brand-new duty uniform. Sway removed his tunic and hung that up. He also removed his belt, tore off the stupid loincloths and looked for somewhere to throw them away. He spotted a replicator and a table. He recycled his strips of useless fabric and requested a bowl of mint chip ice cream. He was somewhat surprised when it materialized without any hesitation, but then he remembered there were several Humans and Human-hybrids on the ship's crew.
The doorbell toned. Sway looked up. "Come in?" The door clanged open. Bekk Naja stood there. She had also removed her Academy uniform, and was wearing only a white synth-cotton top, black leather pants and soft boots. "Naja, enter! What do you want?" he asked his friend in Klingon.
"I wanted to see your quarters," she said, in English. "And please, use the Human language when you talk to me, Sway. I'm trying to practice." Because the majority of the Norgh'Iw's crew were non-Klingons (and over half of those were Gorn) Ssharki had ordered English to be the standard language spoken aboard ship.
"You speak it very well," Sway told her. He pointed to his ice cream. "Do you want some?"
"Sure!" she said with a smile. She looked around the room while Sway replicated her a dish. "This is a very nice place."
"Well, it is the Captain's cabin," Sway said as he set the bowl down across the table.
Naja moved the bowl next to him and sat. "This is better than what we had at the Academy," she said after tasting the dessert.
"Yeah. I wonder who programmed it?"
"There was a half-Human in the biology lab earlier," Naja remarked. "I'll ask her tomorrow."
"How do you like it?" Sway asked. "Biology I mean. Not exactly a warrior's calling."
"Not all Klingons are called to be warriors," Naja reminded him. "I thought you knew that by now. Besides, if we encounter a new race of hostile aliens, Captain Ssharki will rely on us to learn how to defeat them."
"Makes sense."
They finished eating. Sway recycled the bowls while Naja went over to his bed. "This is where you sleep?"
"Yeah."
She sat down. "It's soft."
"The Gorn prefer to sleep on something soft. I know, the Klingons have no need for comfort, but most other civilized species do prefer it."
"I actually agree with you," Naja admitted. "I'll have to see about getting a bed like this."
Sway sat down next to her. "It's good to be out of the Academy, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Thank you for talking to your father, Sway. I don't know what would have happened to me if I stayed there without you."
"I... had another reason for wanting you on the same ship with me." Sway scooted closer. "I, um, I like... being around you."
Naja smiled and pulled him to her, laying the back of his head down in her lap as she gently stroked his crest. "Say what you wanted to tell me, lizard."
"Um." He shifted his hips uncomfortably. A small bulge was forming at the front of his pants. Naja noticed, rested her free hand on it squeezed. Sway gasped. "I... I love you, Naja."
"I love you too, Sweet Delight." She pulled her hands back and removed her shirt.
Sway sat up in alarm. "What are you doing?"
"I want to do something with you," she answered as she leaned towards him. She kissed his snout and said "Something I've wanted to do for a long time, but we never had the privacy. Don't worry, I shaved my body for you. I know hair makes you uncomfortable."
Sway eyed her suspiciously. "You're not about to initiate mating in the traditional Klingon way, are you?"
She nuzzled his nose with hers. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle. And I won't bite. Not too hard, anyway." She nibbled the tip of his snout.
"Well, okay." Sway tilted his mouth to meet hers and licked her lips. They parted, and their tongues locked.
Naja carefully laid Sway flat on his bed, their bare chests pressing against each other, while they licked each other's faces. Then she started kissing his pale chest and belly, working her way down toward his waist. "When will your father return?"
"Midnight," he whispered, "at the earliest."
"Good. That should give us enough time." She peeled off his straining pants, and lowered her head.
"Aaahh!" he shrieked and shivered. "I've never done anything like this before, with anyone-"
She sat up and giggled. "Me neither. I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm just happy I found this down here and not some sort of... I don't know what."
Sway sat up, hooked his hands under her arms, and laid back, pulling her on top of himself as she kicked off her boots and wriggled out of her pants. "I think I know the basics of how this works," he said.
The two sixteen-year-olds made love slowly, both unsure of themselves, neither quite understanding how to stimulate the other. They took their time exploring one another's bodies. They got a little rough with each other, but not enough to send someone to sick bay. The sex lasted for over two hours, before Sway was totally spent. He flopped back on his bed, panting. Naja lay next to him, stroking his crest. "So whadidja think?" she whispered.
"That was... incredible," he squeaked back.
"I thought so too." She kissed the ridge along his cheek and draped half of her body over him. "Sway?"
He started scratching her areola. He figured out early in their biological exploration that she liked that. "Hmm?"
"When did you first know you loved me?"
"Um. I dunno. I always liked you. I mean, you were the only one there at the Academy who seemed to like me, so... I dunno," he said again. He thought a moment and answered "I guess I knew for sure I loved you that first time you touched my crest... remember, the night you brough to the infirmary? I flinched, you yanked your hand back and apologized, I said it was okay, and then you - ever so gently - touched me there again, just like you are now."
"I remember." She nuzzled the side of his face.
He rested his hand on her cheek. "It was... the first time I'd been touched in a way that felt good since my parents died."
She licked the soft scales of his throat and said "I realized it the same night, right when you asked me why I was nice to you. But really, I'd been attracted to you all along. And then when you killed J'ngev - I mean Junk," she giggled, using Sway's nickname for the alpha bully, "when you killed him for hurting me, I knew I had to have you, no matter what."
Sway hadn't killed Junk because he'd hurt Naja. He challenged him to a duel of honor because he'd hurt Naja. Sway had killed the bully just because he could. He kept that to himself, though.
"Something I've been wondering, though." Naja leaned up on her elbow to look Sway in his eyes. "You waited until then to stand up to them. Why didn't you stand up for yourself before?"
"I thought about it," Sway admitted. "In fact at one point I tried to buy a wide-beam disruptor from S'kaa. But I decided it wasn't worth it. I let them hurt me, because I was tough enough to take it, and I knew if I fought back they'd just hit me harder. But then they hurt you, someone I cared about, someone I loved, and I... I couldn't take that. Losing you would've been like... losing my parents again."
"Aw, Sway..." Naja started to tear up.
They young Gorn nuzzled her with his snout. "Seeing you in the infirmary, after what Junk and the others did to you, made me mad enough that I had to fight back. And you know what? It felt good." He rolled his head back. "Just pulling Junk out of his chair to challenge him felt good. Beating him in the mok'bara ring felt even better. And then killing him with his own d'k tahg..." he closed his eyes and sighed with satisfaction at the memory. "I will treasure every moment of his death forever."
Naja didn't know what to say to that. She stared at him for several minutes, unmoving. Then she noticed his deep, rhythmic breathing and realized he'd fallen asleep. "Sway?" He didn't answer. He was in a deep slumber. She lay down on her side and made herself comfortable, and watched her little lover sleep. "Good night, my Sweet Delight," she whispered.
Ssharki had almost forgotten Sway was in his cabin. An understandable oversight, considering that he'd drunk half a case of bloodwine on his own while the various members and advisors of the House of Martok regaled him with tales of their family's deeds. He entered his chamber and ordered "Lights." The various illuminators in is room activated. He saw the sleeping bodies in the second bed at the same time his ears registered the sound of snoring, alerting him to the presence of sleeping youngsters. "Lights off!" he hissed. The room was darkened.
Bodies? While he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he tried to process what he'd seen. Two heads on a pillow, not one. He distinctly saw the pointed green and scaly snout of young Sway. But the other head was covered in long black hair, and was attached to the bare shoulder and arm of a brown-skinned humanoid, and that arm was draped around his son's neck... he sniffed the air, and smelled Klingon sweat, and... something else. Once Ssharki's natural night vision was fully activated he crept up to the boy's bed to examine the other occupant. It was a Klingon female, about Sway's age, although obviously twice as physically mature. She was cuddling Sway and she was smiling. They were both smiling. Her name came to him, from a conversation he'd had with his son and an assignment order he'd signed. Naja.
So my son has already taken a mate? This mammal he said was his friend? Ssharki stared at the pair in the dark, amused. I shall have to talk with him in the morning. He licked his fingertip and rubbed it on his son?s snout, and turned to his own bed. He removed his clothes, crawled under the covers, and immediately fell asleep.
Four hours later
Naja awoke with a start. Sway was cuddled against her chest, but she heard snoring behind her... Captain Ssharki! She whipped her head around and saw two huge, three-toed feet protruding from beneath the covers of the other bed. The Captain had obviously ignored her presence in his room. She decided to get out while she could. She kissed Sway again and searched for her clothes, put them on as best she could in the dark, and ran out carrying her boots.
She slipped into her own room, trying to avoid waking up her Orion roommate and failing. Bekk Dejera had just come off her shift a short time ago. "Where the hell have you been?" the Orion girl asked.
"Out," Naja replied, as she removed her sweat-soaked undershirt. "Sorry for waking you."
Dejera sniffed. "You smell like sex. Computer, lights."
The lights illuminated Naja, her shirt off, her torso covered with scratches and bite marks, and the pants she was wearing were clearly not hers.
"Whoa," Dejera murmured. "Girl, who did that to you? And can I meet him?"
Morning
Sway woke up in bed alone, and heard his father up and moving around. "Computer, time?" he whispered.
"The time is 0718 hours," the computer loudly announced.
"Hey, son, you up?" his father called from the other end of the room.
"Yeah."
"Good. I was gonna wake you in another minute or two. Your duty shift starts in forty minutes, you know."
"Yeah."
"Get cleaned up and dressed and come eat. The cooks already brought up breakfast."
"Okay." Sway obeyed, rinsing his sticky body in his father's sonic shower. He felt a little sore ? not the I just got beat up kind of sore, more like the that was a great workout sort of sore. He put on his new duty uniform and approached the table. He saw Naja's pants folded up and sitting on one of the chairs. Uh-oh, he thought.
"So I noticed you had company last night," Ssharki announced as he dished up a plate of scrambled pterous eggs and grilled pflaam heart for his son.
"Um, yeah." Sway sat, still staring at Naja's folded pants.
"You really like Naja, don't you?"
The boy looked up. "I... I love her, father."
Ssharki scooped a sporkful of eggs into his mouth and washed it down with a gulp of zilm'kach juice. "You said she treated you well at the Academy."
"It was more than that," Sway admitted. "We both loved each other. We just... couldn't, in that place."
"I understand. So as soon as you were alone together you mated with her."
"Basically."
"Did she initiate?" Ssharki asked.
"Yes, but I wanted to do it too."
"Did you like it? Do you want to it with her again?"
Sway nodded.
"Eat, son." Ssharki chewed a piece of spongy pflaam heart in silence while he thought things through. He wasn't sure how to discourage his son from seeing the Klingon female, or even if he should. "You know, the first mate I ever took was a mammal," he told the youngster. "A Human - my best friend's older sister. We were eighteen - just a couple years older than you and Naja. We didn't love each other though. We were both just... curious. We were only together the one time."
Sway ate his food and gazed at his father, waiting for him to continue.
"Sway, I know how difficult things must have been for you at the Academy. I'm glad you had this relationship with Naja to get you through it."
"I don't know where I'd be without her," Sway said.
"Well, now you're out of there, and you don't have to worry about anybody hurting you." Ssharki finished his juice. "You may find you're more interested in your own species. There are several Gorn females on this ship, and a few of them who aren't much older than you. And there are a lot of mammals who would be more... compatible with Naja."
"We love each other," Sway insisted. "Nothing will change that."
"All I'm saying is you both might want to step back and look around. This is your first time - probably Naja's too. Talk to her about it. But if you both want to continue as lovers, I will give you my blessings."
Sway nodded. "Thank you, father."
Ssharki stood. "Come here, son." Sway did, and his father embraced him, holding the boy's head to his heart. "Know that whatever happens between you and Naja, I will always love you. That will never change." He knelt and nuzzled the youngster's snout with his own. "Now then, Bekk Sway, you are to report to Lieutenant Commander Lan in the forward armory for your first duty assignment." He stood and struck his chest and said "Qapla'!"
Sway returned the salute. "Qapla', father!" He went to the door.
"Bekk," Ssharki called after him. "This should go without saying, but your relationships - with me, Naja, or anyone else - must never interfere with your duties aboard this ship."
Sway nodded. "Of course, sir."
The young Gorn made his way to the forward armory and identified LCdr. Lan son of Krad by his decorated sash. "Bekk Sway reporting for duty, sir," he said with a salute.
Lan returned it. "Qapla', Bekk!" The tall, frizzy-haired Klingon inspected the Bekk's uniform and nodded his approval. "The Captain has instructed me that you are to receive no special treatment. As far as we are concerned, you are simply the most junior security officer on the staff."
"Understood, sir."
Lan gave a curt nod. "Form up!" Sway joined the other security officers gathering in the room. The ship's computer sounded a long tone, indicating change-of-watch. "Warriors of the Klingon Empire!" Lan called out. "The security assignments for the day shift are as follows:
"Lieutenant Shurab! Warrior Atzik!" A male Orion and an unkempt Nausicaan stepped forward. "The Captain will be entertaining some of his 'clients' this afternoon. You are to make security arrangements prior to their arrival. Speak with Commander Maddox for the details.
"Lt. Shagasham! First Reader!" A Gorn female and a telepathic Ferasan male came up. "Random inspection of crew quarters, search and seizure of contraband.
"Warrior Shralak!" A Gorn male, about ten years older than Sway. "Take the contraband recovered by the last watch and the raiding parties and turn it over to the First City authorities.
"Scout Sergeant! Warrior Hrkki!" Two male Ferasans, one a mountain clanner, the named one from the lowlands. "You are to represent your ship alongside Patriarch-of-the-High-Glades M'Ri at an upcoming trial-by-combat to be held on Ferasa. Pack for five days, and report to shuttlebay two.
"Lieutenant Bedza!" An expressionless Lethean looked up. "There are prisoners in the brig that require your attention.
"Lieutenant Gokran!" An older Klingon male stood at attention. "First of all, congratulations on placing in the B'aht Qul tournament yesterday. Captain Ssharki has approved your request to join several of your shipmates on a pilgrimage to Boreth - you depart first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I would like for you to instruct Bekk Sway on shipboard security procedures and protocols. I am told he is a quick study. At thirteen-hundred, you may relieve me as Security Officer of the Watch so that I and the Bekk may accompany the inspection team for his further education.
"The rest of you - Warriors Tavano, Braktan, Reed and Samaya - are on general security detail unless something else comes up. Qapla'!"
Sway and the other officers returned the salute in chorus.
Sway was indeed a fast learner, and already familiar with KDF regulations and security procedures from his time at the Academy. He impressed Lt. Gokran with his retentive memory and his easy grasp of the reasons behind the rules.
At 1230 they broke for lunch. "We take a half-hour lunch when duty permits, between eleven and fourteen hundred hours," Gokran explained as they walked into the mess hall.
Sway looked around for Naja but didn't see her, so he joined the other security officers at a table toward the middle of the room. Security was prestigious duty on a KDF ship.
Before he could sit down, an Orion female approached him. "Hey there, cutie." She grabbed the sides of his head licked his crest. He shivered. It felt good, but really weird at the same time. He heard hoots and howls from around the room. She released him and gave him a lusty grin. "Be seein' ya," she said as she sauntered off.
Sway was confused, embarrassed and aroused all at once. "What the... did she just-"
"Yeah, she did," Gokran told him. "She wants you."
"That didn't take long, did it?" Wr. Shralak asked rhetorically. He looked at Sway and explained "Samaya there isn't particularly choosy about her mates."
The others all laughed, including Gokran. "And there's Shralak, displaying his wonderfully understated sense of humor - which is the only reason any of us puts up with the lazy lout. I mean all he ever does is turn in contraband, then he just loafs around the rest of the day..."
"I always draw that assignment because I'm the only one who can do it without dropping an entire case of Romulan Ale right in front of the Great Hall, Gokran."
The lieutenant protested amid howls of derisive laughter. "I told you, I was drunk! I was carrying two cases..."
"And stories like that are why we all put up with you drinking on duty," Shralak said.
"And why does everyone put up with Samaya sleeping around?" Sway wondered.
The laughter stopped. "You're kidding, right?" Shralak asked incredulously. "Do any of senses work? I mean she practically buried your snout in her cleavage."
"Nobody cares what you do off-duty, Sway," Gokran told him. "And when a beautiful creature like Samaya walks up to you after watch, pumps pheromones up your nostrils, grabs your qIv and says 'Let's go' what man or woman among us can resist?"
Sway looked around the table at all the knowing nods. Klingon, Orion, Gorn, Human, Lethean, Ferasan... "All of you?" More nods. "Gross!"
"Well, everyone but Stinky down there," Shralak pointed to Atzik, the Nausicaan. "The girl at least has hygienic standards."
1754 hours
Sway found Naja's quarters and pressed the buzzer. She opened the door. "There you are!" she exclaimed. "I was wondering when you'd show up!"
"Sorry," Sway apologized. "I would've come for you sooner, but I had to hide from a promiscuous Orion."
"Isn't that kinda redundant?"
"I heard that!" Dejera protested from the back of the room. She walked to the door to get a look at her roommate's romantic interest. "This little guy is your date? Really?"
"This 'little guy' picked up a Klingon twice his size, threw him into a wall, beat him at mok'bara three falls to none, and then killed him with his own d'k tahg, all because he'd insulted me." Naja informed the Orion as she stroked Sway's crest.
"He did a bit more than insult you-" Sway started to say.
"Whatever. I'm hungry. Let's get dinner."
Sway hooked his arm around hers. "I was just going to suggest that."
"Your quarters?"
"I was thinking the mess hall," Sway answered, "unless you'd rather keep our relationship private."
Naja laughed. "Are you kidding? I don't care what anyone thinks. Not anymore. Let the whole stupid world know that I'm a lizard-lover. And if anyone has a problem with it, we'll take them on."
"You're not making any sense," Sway told her, as they entered the crew's mess, "but I love you anyway." He saw Samaya, and she saw him. "Uh-oh."
"There you are, cutie!" Samaya chortled as she ran up to him. Then she noticed Naja. "Oh."
"Back off, *****," Naja snarled as she flicked out her d'k tahg. "He's mine."
Samaya bolted and Sway laughed. "Well that's one problem out of the way." He led Naja to an elevated two-place table on the forward wall, with the chairs placed next to each other. "But we might have another problem."
"Your father?"
Sway nodded. "He'll let me see you, but he doesn't think we're right for each other. He says he thinks we should be spending our time with our own species."
"Well, I guess we'll just have to convince him, won't we?" A steward brought over a plate of live food, and Naja ate a handful of racht. "It'll be easier than convincing my parents, anyway."
"Yeah, but you're legally an adult, and you don't live with them," Sway told her. He slurped some gagh and went on. "Anyway, I think he'll be alright with us. We just need to give it some time."
"Time is something we have plenty of." Naja leaned her head on Sway's shoulder as the main course arrived. "Sway, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to grow old and die in your arms. That's the life I imagine for us."
"What about children?"
"We'll adopt war orphans, like your father. What do you say, my Sweet Delight?"
"I say that sounds more beautiful than any of my dreams. But we'll have to wait until I'm twenty-four to get married."
Naja sniffed. "But we can have so much fun in the meantime."
"True." Sway cut into the heart of targ on the table. "Speaking of fun, what do you want to do after dinner?"
She looked at him with a gleam in her eyes. "What do you want to do?"
Sway whispered in her ear.
She smiled and grabbed his hands. "Me too!"
...Oh, baby, you know, I've really got to leave you / Oh, I can hear it callin 'me / I said don't you hear it callin' me the way it used to do?...
- Anne Bredon
Captains Log
Stardate...
"Computer? Do me a favor and add the Stardate later. I was never really any good with remembering them anyways."
"Stardate will be added later Captain."
"Temporal Investigations said I can NEVER speak of this. To any one. Ever. But every year that goes by makes me think of this. Well, that and the Brandy.
Mostly the Brandy.
Today makes six years. Six long years.
I was living the exciting life of a Cargo Ship Engineer. Her name was the Mystic and she was a good ship. Rough around the edges, but we could do Warp 3 if we pushed the engines. And the Captain did upgrade the Weapons recently. We thought we had a milk run. Take some supplies to a colony. Nothing major, just a quick trip to the colony, then back. Maybe four weeks at Warp 3. Nothing more. Heck, there wasn't even any reports of hostile ships in the area for the past month! So we took the job.
That was the first mistake.
The second one was the Captain being greedy and wanting to push the Engines past Warp 3. I told him we were VERY lucky to even get Warp 3. That Engine wasn't rated for anything faster then Warp 2.5 at the most.
The third mistake was that stupid 'Short Cut' he heard about. Most of us warned him about going that close to a Nebula. You think he listened? Give you three guesses and the first two don't count.
I managed to get Warp 3.2 out of that old Engine. Don't ask me how, because I'm not even sure how I did it. But that ship felt like it was about to shake apart. I warned the captain, but it was too late. Interference from the Nebula made our Warp Field go ballistic. Next thing I know there was a bright flash and the Engine was glowing a odd shade of white. My crew and I did all we could, but in the end, we had to dump it. Ejected into space. I don't know if it was going Critical or not, but it wasn't looking good for us.
Needless to say, the Captain was NOT pleased. Luckily, Gui (our Navigation "Genius" as he liked to be called) chose that moment to tell the captain the Bad News For The Day. We were no longer anywhere near where we should've been. As a matter of fact, we didn't even have charts for this sector of space. Nearest we could figure out, we were somewhere near a System that had eight or nine planets. One star. The third planet looked promising, so we decided to try there for repairs.
That was the last mistake I ever had the chance of regretting on the Mystic.
We were Hailed by a vessel we had never seen before. Heck, none of us had even HEARD of this 'Terran Empire' as they called themselves. The next thing I can even remember is the Mystic being boarded and weapons fire. I locked down the Engine Room and did my best to try and calm my Engineering team. I heard some shouting. Not from the Mystic's crew, but the boarders. Oddly, I couldn't understand a single thing they even said. Not for the first few minutes anyways. But once I did start to understand the language they spoke, I wish I didn't.
The ships comm system came on and we heard nothing but bad news over it. We were given the option of either handing over our cargo and crew or dying "A rather painful death". The Captain decided to try and fight. I didn't even see what happened, but the next thing I know, he's on the floor dead. At least that was my guess. I didn't see him until later. Then we were each given the option of joining their crew, or joining the Captain on the Floor. We were terrified. None of us even knew what was going on. That's when I unlocked Engineering and found a gun pointed at my face.
Not the first thing I wanted to see, but nothing that could be done about it. I was taken to the bridge with the rest of my crew. Seemed like I was the only person alive that had any type of rank. And we never really enforced rank as it was. Their leader was a man named Smithy. He had a horrid scar across his face that must've left him blind in his right eye because he had a patch over it. He then gave us the same option. Hand over all of the Cargo and join the crew of his ship, the Asunder, or we can learn how to "Suck some Space" as he said. What choice did I have?
I spent day's. Maybe months or years being tortured. Heck, it may have even been hours. But that kind of pain makes you think weird. I don't know what information they wanted. But I told them everything I could think of. Some truths, some lies, mostly crying. They asked me what I was, like they had never seen a Trill before, what my Spots mean. What I did on that ship. What we were hauling. Where were we going. The list goes on and on. It wasn't until I was released from that Agony Booth, they called it, and was patched up that I learned the truth.
They were the most evil thing I would ever encounter.
The Terran Empire was evil. I know of no other word that can describe it properly. I had my hand broken twice, simply for being a woman AND a "Filthy Alien piece of trash". I was stabbed seven times just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And those were on the GOOD day's. Eventually, it stopped. Only because I knew my way around Warp Engines and found a way to tweak the one they had up by a Warp Factor of .3.
It got a little easy after that. The Captain (still have no clue what his name was) decided that I was to be a member of the Engineering Team. After a while, he even put me in charge of the third shift. Only because it was nothing but us non-Humans and no Human wanted to be in charge of us. I found a place where I could even stash some extra food and medical supplies to help the non-Humans if we were being starved or hurt. We managed to make life bearable. There was no way we could ever make it pleasant. Not in those conditions. But bearable.
About seven or eight months after I was forced into this crew, I was ordered to accompany a team that was going on a mission. I wasn't given any details, I was just told to be at the Transporter with a Engineering kit and to shut my mouth and do as I was told. I knew better then to ask questions. My bruised face reminded me of that.
I was getting ready to use the Transporter for the first time. Now, mind you, the NX Class did have Transporters, but they were mainly used for transporting cargo and such. However, our Captain decided that for this raid we were using the Transporters to surprise the cargo ship. The same way they surprised my ship. Meaning that there was going to be some new, what's the word he used? Servants? I think that was the word. I didn't know what to expect, but it couldn't be good.
Turns out I was right. It wasn't a cargo ship. It was something that made the Humans nervous and some of us non-Humans terrified. The Asunder rocked with weapons fire. We were hit and it sounded bad. We were ordered to begin Transport. The first team went. Then the second. The reports we were hearing sounded worse then the noise the Asunder was making as she got beat on. We started hearing reports of hostile things on the ship. We were being boarded. Then my team was ordered to go over. And as I walked to the Transporter pad, that's when my life was changed.
It was a odd being that stood in front of me. Four spider like legs inside of some type of Armor. That was the last thing I remembered seeing before everything got all... well.. I don't know how to describe it. There was a loud screeching sound and a flash of blinding light. I lost consciousness. Dropped my kit. And then the universe seemed to go away from me.
I woke up on a strange ship. On a Transporter pad much larger then the one I left. The people here had some odd uniforms on. I was afraid it was the Asunder all over again. I was fading in and out of consciousness. Something was said about Sick Bay. Something else about Tholians. I had no idea what was going on. I was told I was safe. And in good hands. Someone named Evere helped me up.
Three day's later I awoke. I was on board of the U.S.S. Quantum Order. Turns out that the person that helped me get here was the Captain of this ship. I laughed so hard I thought I was going to die. A WOMAN as a Captain?! Was she serious? The Terran Empire would never allow that! I mean, who was she kidding anyways.
I was completely wrong. There was no Terran Empire here. There wasn't even anything I recognized in this Sick Bay. I couldn't even tell why a Engineer was a Captain of a ship! Turns out, she wasn't a Engineer. The red on her uniform marked her as a Tactical Captain. And even worse, this wasn't home. This was a Federation ship. And a rather beat up one at that. They had just come under assault from a Tolian Ship and were headed back to Spacedock to get some much needed repairs. Quite a few injures among the crew. A few fatality's too. I learned that there was another Trill on here. A Host named Dillan Rez. And he was severely injured in the attack that I had decided to appear in the middle of. And he was dying fast. And as the only other Trill on here, it looked like I had the option of Joining with this symbiotic slug or letting it die.
What else could I do?
I joined with Rez. I gained memories. I gained skills. And I gained myself. It turns out that in this Universe, I was the second Host of Rez. When my other self, or was that a past me, I can't keep that straight anymore, was given the option to join, she took it. I didn't when I was offered back home. I didn't want a Slug crawling inside of me. So now (much to Trill's confusion) I am both the Second Host AND the Eighth Host of Rez. It's confusing to be honest. Memories of a life I both never lead and am leading.
Evere took me to Starfleet Command where I got a visit from some people who I'd rather not upset. Called themselves "Temporal Investigations". Said I don't belong here. I can't belong here. I was already dead here. I should go back. I told them everything they wanted to know. I was a force of habit. They didn't like the fact that I Joined with Rez. They wanted it removed. Wanted me returned. Afraid I already contaminated the flow of Time. They wanted to lock me up at first. I begged. Begged to be allowed to stay free. Told them all about what I went though and why I would rather be dead then go back. So they decided on a worse fate for me.
I was to join Starfleet (as they called it) and become a member of a crew. Turns out that out of eight host Rez had, five others had joined Starfleet. So I had a bit of an edge over others when it came to my training. Took me longer then it should have, mainly because I had to basically learn everything all over again. Warp 9?! How is that even possible! And how are they even able to make ships that large?! What's with all the Alien species around here?!
I had a lot to learn.
And to make it worse, the Third Host had gotten the nick name 'Trixie'. Seems like I got stuck with it.
Computer, end Recording. And do I still have any of that Brandy stashed away?
"Affirmative Captain, you still have one case of Brandy in your quarters"
"Good, I need a drink right now."
If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord
I am going to unstick this as I prepare to post up challenge #46, but feel free to still post an entry if you'd like to and have not had a chance yet!
Cheers,
Brandon =/\=
Crew Members of the Odyssey-class USS Lord English, NCC-99413-A
Command Officers
Role: Commanding Officer
Species: Human
Age: 24
The ship captain of USS Lord English. A talented, if immature, officer who earned his command fighting the Borg at Vega IX and has risen through the ranks since. Although his unprofessional manner concerns his superiors, his willingness to push the envelope for other's sakes endears him to both Starfleet Command and his crew.
Commander Kay Jasmine Taylor
Role: Executive Officer
Species: Human
Age: 22
Rational and composed, Kay and Remus have served together for the majority of the latter's captaincy. She commands the Lord English whenever Remus is away from the ship, and serves in a "Team Mom" role to the English's crew. Her predecessor died in the line of duty, so she feels an added need to ensure the lives of those aboard Lord English.
Tactical Department
Role: Chief Tactical Officer
Species: Dunmer
Age: 27
A mysterious alien from way beyond Federation borders, Drevis has a very easy-going attitude and makes friends among the ship's crew easily. However, underneath his sparkling appearance is a whole mess of contradictory stories and impressions which makes pinning down his true past very hard to do.
Commander Aranea Serket
Role: Security Chief
Species: Orion
Age: 24
A defector from the Mirror Universe, Aranea is the mirror counterpart of an Orion crime lord. Her sweet demeanor belies an incredibly tragic past and a sadistic streak which frightens even hardened warriors. She maintains a professional relationship with the rest of English's senior crew, but would like a companion to keep her company on a cold night.
Commander Vorat'kax
Role: Assault Squad Chief
Species: Jem'Hadar
Age: 9 months
Gruff and taciturn like the rest of his species, Vorat'kax finds himself at odds with the less disciplined and more relaxed atmosphere of the Federation. When he's not fighting, he's always seen tweaking something military-related in order to make him a more efficient fighter. The closest thing he has to leisure is talking combat philosophies with Thot, the Breen deserter.
Commander Thot
Role: Chief Ground Warfare Specialist
Species: Breen
Age: 15
Among the myriad aliens serving aboard Lord English, Thot is the most reclusive member of the crew. Thot is reluctant to reveal his non-duty activities or strike up conversations with the non-Breen on the English, with his closest non-Breen friend being the Jem'Hadar Vorat'kax.
Engineering Department
Role: Chief Engineer
Species: Vulcan
Age: 21
A typical Vulcan with the typical Vulcan flair for logical thought and emotionless interactions, T'Shannat exemplifies the miracle worker engineer with her no-nonsense efficient engineering prowess. She is the go-to girl for all things engineering or logic-based, and sometimes joins the occasional girls' night out organized by Kay.
Commander Kovat Vystan
Role: Chief of Operations
Species: Cardassian
Age: 21
Moody, dour, and a little unsettling, the Cardassian Chief of Operations of Lord English is a wunderkind amongst the post-Dominion War Cardassian generation. He is more comfortable hacking into a database than hobnobbing with superior officers, though he will help the Lord English out of sticky situations.
Commander Ten of Twenty-Five
Role: Chief Sensors Officer
Species: Liberated Borg Human
Age: 18
Formerly Sabrina Honda, Ten of Twenty-Five is haunted by her relatively brief imprisonment in the Borg Collective, showing the occasional bout of self-doubt and fear. However, she is still capable of acting decisively and confidently in her duties, particularly in the company of her friends.
Commander Prometheus R-66Y
Role: Chief Systems Engineer
Species: Android
Age: 301
An android first activated ninety years into the future, R-66Y served in the 29th century Temporal Starfleet before time shenanigans put him on the Lord English in 2409. He is programmed to follow the Temporal Prime Directive and Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics, but he still finds time to interact with the crew on a friendly basis, despite lacking developed emotional programming.
Commander Newa
Role: Chief Technician
Species: Caitian
Age: 18
The only sane cat amongst the English's crew, relatively speaking, Newa tolerates Remus' unprofessionalism the least, but she acknowledges his investment in the survival of his crew. She and other members of the senior crew her age get together often for shindigs.
Sciences Department
Role: Chief Science Officer
Species: Klingon
Age: 18
Kira is a member of a Klingon family on the Federation side of the Klingon border, and thus less sympathetic to the Klingon Empire than many Klingons her age. She possesses a fiery temperament and is not above using verbal abuse to get her point across. She has a profound loyalty to the ship and its crew, which leads to very frank words when she believes their well-being is being affected.
Commander Four of Thirteen
Role: Chief Medical Officer
Species: Liberated Borg Human
Age: 72
The drone formerly known as Edmund Tadakatsu Honda was a survivor of the Federation massacre at Wolf 359. He still has an aura of Borg assimilation hanging around him like an albatross, but sometimes he is able to warm up emotionally, especially in proximity to his granddaughter, Sabrina Honda.
Commander Twimek
Role: Senior Biochemist
Species: Reman
Age: 20
Twimek is a former resistance fighter who has a debt to pay to Remus and is paying it off by serving aboard Lord English. He is a trustworthy and dependable person who can be counted on to offer medical knowledge on the many species which inhabit the regions of space in and around the Federation.
Commander Liviana
Role: Senior Research Lab Scientist
Species: Romulan
Age: 20
Described by her colleagues at the Romulan Ministry of Science as "bubbly" and "perky", Liviana is one of the foremost scientific minds in the service of the Romulans. She is serving aboard the Lord English as part of an effort to improve relations between the Romulans and the Federation.
Commander Jhamyn Othisi
Role: Senior Counselor
Species: Aenar
Age: 19
A demure and unassuming member of the English crew, Jhamyn is nonetheless essential in her role of healing the emotional wounds which the crew often encounters, and sometimes even inflicts on each other. She is someone that even enemies of the Federation consider a calming presence.
Commander Nelen Exil
Role: Senior Geologist
Species: Voth
Age: 60
Considered young by Voth standards, Nelen is a Voth defector who now serves on the Lord English. He is an idealistic and open-minded scientist who believes the pursuit of knowledge should benefit all species. His greatest challenge is adapting to the less advanced systems of the Federation, but he does enjoy the challenge.
Academy Abroad Cadets
Role: Science School Cadet
Species: Human
Age: 15
Hailing from the Human Lunar colony of New Berlin, Juno is a 2nd year Cadet in the science track who is on the Lord English as part of Starfleet Academy's Academy Abroad program. She is a very reserved, weak-willed cadet who nonetheless has many talents that are brought out by the encouragement of her friends and superior officers. She is currently looking for a misplaced pair of X hairpins...
Cadet 2nd Year Garaze Rela
Role: Tactical School Cadet
Species: Bajoran
Age: 16
Rela is the first member of her family to be born after the Cardassian Occupation and the first to leave Bajor. She is a very gregarious cadet who makes friends easily and obliviously draws the eyes of male cadets. She is a relatively simple person with great initiative and loyalty to her friends.
Cadet 3rd Year Idouna Stadi
Role: Science School Cadet
Species: Betazoid
Age: 17
A well-mannered Betazoid cadet with a history of good grades and good citizenship, Idouna is an epitome of femininity whose only failing, so to speak, is an excess of empathy. She is very well liked and well regarded by everyone and would make a good wife and mother to some fortunate soul in the future if she wasn't involved in Starfleet.
Cadet 3rd Year Salin
Role: Engineering School Cadet
Species: Saurian
Age: 17
A Saurian cadet who is a bit nerdy and boyish, almost the exact opposite of her roommate, Idouna. Nonetheless, she is a skilled engineer and a trustworthy cadet. She likes to dabble in the arts when she is not studying.
Literary Challenges Entries- Star Trek Online: Lord English
Dramatis Personae of Star Trek Online: Lord English
The Catalina is a Galaxy-class starship commissioned shortly after the Dominion War as an ambassadorial starship, seeking diplomatic venues with the Dominion and opening trade between the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants, as well as other diplomatic relations in the Klingon and Romulan Star Empire (back when there was a Romulan Star Empire and not the fragmented factions they are now.). She's an old ship, kept to the original designs by her captain, despite the pleading of his engineer. The captain's crew is a rather mixed bunch. Two Caitians, a Klingon, a Romulan-Vulcan, a Liberated Borg and two Andorians. The Liberated Borg is responsible for the Borg technology keeping the Catalina running. The Catalina is on a 3 month tour of duty to rally all the major powers in the Alpha Quadrant to make a final push against the Borg threat, so that they might focus on the Tholians and the Elachi. And with that, here begins our story.
"Captain on the bridge!", the Andorian got up from her station and stood at attention. "At ease, Lieutenant." He sat down and straightened his uniform. Looking at the viewscreen for a moment, he looked at his sensors officer. "Diphra, scan for any ships in the area. Long range scan if you please."
"Aye, Captain.", she nodded sharply and began to scan for the signatures with military efficiency. Her antennae stood straight up as she spun around. "Sir! Klingon warship closing in! Bortasqu'-class. They aren't arming disruptors."
"Stand-by shields and weapons. Activate on my mark. Open a channel."
On the screen appeared not a Klingon, but an Orion. "Ahhh.. Captain, I was wondering when I would run into you. Do you have time for a small discussion?"
"Well, if it isn't Melani D'ian of the Orion Syndicate. I think we both know how our last 'discussion' panned out.", he glares.
"And I do apologize for that. Had I known, the offenders would have been executed, and you and your crew set free. Now, I repeat again, do you have time for a discussion?", she smiled, and closed the channel.
"She... closed the channel, sir. Should I hail her again?", Diphra asked. "Hmm, no, but M'Tesis.... I want all security teams on alert and inoculated. Miss D'ian is a head of state, and since we are diplomats, we will play host to her. If she tries her games, I need security to be at full alert."
M'Tesis blinked, and brandished her claws, "Should I accompany you? The Orion is bound to have security of her own. And I don't particularly trust her.", she growled softly and began to play with her dagger unsheathed from her belt.
"No, mother. The Orion and I are going to have a chat. But I want her unarmed and her guests confined to the guest quarters.", they both chuckled and go their separate ways.
Hours later, Melani and the captain are in the ready room, going over a trade agreement.
"Ever since this alliance, slave trade has become illegal in the Federation. Reluctantly I have decided to turn to other avenues of income. Legal supply trade and businesses. This agreement says that if the Federation wants to continue trade between our two peoples, then the supply freighters will run under escort throughout the trade lanes. With the Empire focusing their efforts on the Borg, it doesn't leave me any ships other than a few frigates to protect the vulnerable ships. This agreement also says that KDF starships will join Federation ships in protecting the core worlds and vice versa. Not to mention the officer exchange programs that could be opened up..", Melani leans back and takes a sip from the glass of water on the desk, "I hate to say it, but... we need help. Everyone needs help, Captain. Even if it is... Federation help."
"Well, Miss D'ian, this does sound like a good deal and I would love to help you, but shouldn't you contact Starfleet about this? It's their ships. Their officers.", he unnoticingly takes Melani's glass and takes a sip, then grimaces. "Sorry, I'll get you another glass. Anyways, why didn't you got to Starfleet with this? Or go to J'mpok and ask him to contact the Federation Diplomatic Corps?"
"At first I did, and there was someone named Sugi... Sugar... ", she pondered the name, when the Captain piped up.
"Sugihara?"
"Yes! That's the name. I contacted them and he recommended you. Found your ship on my sensors and decided to visit you to talk this over. But if you'd rather make me angry and starve multiple Federation worlds in the process, I will leave.", attempting to work her Orion 'magic', she grinned almost pouting-like.
"Look, lady, I don't mind diplomatically talking to you, but I've been inoculated against those pheromones you're clearly putting out. I will sign the deal if you agree to never try that again. Am I clear?", his expression turned to almost anger and he signs the agreement.
"Oh, Captain. You're no fun. But it was worth a try. Let me know when you're on Qo'NoS again. I know a great place we can try some exquisite Orion wing-slugs. I bid you farewell and have a safe journey.", she gets up the same time he does, and they both bow in respect. Looking at the floor, he notices she had dropped part of or one of her sashes. With Orions, you can't tell if it's one sash or part of another. Some have very intricate and elegant outfits, others have barely enough cloth to cover their bodies. He picked it up and went after her. In the turbolift he impatiently tapped his foot, hoping to get to the shuttlebay before she left. When it opened, he was out of it faster than a speeding bullet, as the phrase went and found her almost entering the shuttle. "Miss D'ian, wait. You forgot your... sash..?"
In the Toron-class shuttle, two Orion females, clad in fully covering thick battle armor aimed their disruptor sniper rifles at his head, the red lights meeting each other on his forehead. "Umm... You do realize if my head comes off, that will be bad for both of us, correct?"
"Captain, I'd like you to meet Sanrru and Miluna. Your new officers. My parting gift. And thank you for bringing that back, but you keep it.", she smiled once more and the Orion snipers exited the shuttle.
"I don't mean to be rude, Melani, but... why keep it?", he got her attention and sat next to her for a moment, curious as to why she said keep it.
"Because, Captain, a knight can't go into battle without a token from his fair lady.", they both chuckled, and he looked at her curiously. "I studied your history and something called.. mooveez. Your history is so gallant and noble."
Not wanting to make her upset, he stuffs the sash into his pocket and then the door of the Toron closes suddenly.
"Captain, I'm not done talking to you. Sanrru and Miluna are very capable warriors and will make a nice addition to your crew. I expect you to not take advantage of them. If you do...", she flicks out a small handheld dagger from her wrist bracer, "....I will know. Are we clear?", she giggles and grins, pecking him on the cheek.
"Agh... don't do that, please. And yes, we're clear.", he exited the shuttle after the door opened, and started to wipe the lipstick off on his uniform, a couple of workers in the shuttlebay looking on and laughing, then summarily growing silent as the Orion snipers glare at them with sharp knives. The shuttle exits the bay, leaving the Captain and the workers. The Orions left sometime ago.
As the Captain looked back at the bay opening, the cruiser shimmered out of sight, and the doors closed. Shaking his head, he discards the sash and it gets picked up by a stealthed Sanrru. When he awakes the next morning, the sash is in a case on his desk with a plaque that reads:
For our new Captain. A reminder that not all people are as cruel and as unforgiving as people say.
Looking at it for a moment, he picks it up gently and sets it on the shelf behind his desk, then sits down to read the day's reports.
Dreadnought class. Two times the size, three times the speed. Advanced weaponry. Modified for a minimal crew. Unlike most Federation vessels, it's built solely for combat.