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Unofficial LC #4: The Return of the Revenge of the Unofficial LC of DOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!
worffan101
Member Posts: 9,518 Arc User
So, Starswordc came up with this idea for unofficial LCs a few months ago, and I've been having a ball with it. I'm going to go ahead and start another now, and we can do this alongside whatever official topics Smirk posts for the official thread. This way, we can have twice the stories, for twice the fun!
Also there's only one official prompt this month and I'm both procrastinating on a term paper and bored.
Standard rules apply. No NSFW stuff, one submission per writer per prompt.
Unofficial LC prompt #1: "Second Life" ~ submitted by proteusrex
You wake up in another time and another life. Though everything seems 'normal' you begin to realize it's not where you belong. As you start encountering members of your bridge crew in key roles of this other life, you become more and more convinced that it isn't real. Where did you wake up? are you a lounge singer on a Risan yacht, or a cowboy on the American frontier, or maybe a blue collar worker on a 20th century Romulus. Who put you there? Is it an enemy scheme, alien influence, holodeck malfunction or fantasy made real?
Unofficial LC prompt #2: "Assuming Command" ~ submitted by starswordc
Jean-Luc Picard, an experienced career officer with a first-rate crew and a ship so new she squeaked, ready and eager to take on the universe and preach the Federation's gospel. Benjamin Lafayette Sisko, a grieving widower and single father, put out to pasture in a backwater post expecting one last tour before retirement, with a fiery Bajoran redhead for an XO who took an instant dislike to him.
And then there's you. Write a story or a log entry about your captain's first day in command of their ship. Did Starfleet Command throw them in the deep end right away, or did they get a few days to get to know their crew? What did their new underlings think of them? Did it all go off without a hitch, or were there unforeseen consequences?
Unofficial LC prompt #3: "Broken Threads" ~ submitted by starswordc
Many of us have complained in the past about Cryptic having the attention span of a goldfish and leaving plots unfinished left and right. The Fek'Ihri are implied to be the result of a foreign plot which is never fulfilled, the Gorn separatists are barely alluded to outside of doff assignments, the True Way get no conclusive resolution (yes, you captured two of their leaders, but they're a terrorist organization), and the fact that there's a continuing fragment of the Romulan Star Empire, reeling from the loss of Empress Sela, is never referred to again after "Hidden Camera".
Of course, this isn't unique to Cryptic; there are plenty of cases in the various series where a plot thread was left to dangle. Pick a plot from the series or game that was left unresolved and do something interesting with it.
Have at it, boys and girls. And remember, standard LC rules apply, even though this is an unofficial thread.
Discussion thread here.
Also there's only one official prompt this month and I'm both procrastinating on a term paper and bored.
Standard rules apply. No NSFW stuff, one submission per writer per prompt.
Unofficial LC prompt #1: "Second Life" ~ submitted by proteusrex
You wake up in another time and another life. Though everything seems 'normal' you begin to realize it's not where you belong. As you start encountering members of your bridge crew in key roles of this other life, you become more and more convinced that it isn't real. Where did you wake up? are you a lounge singer on a Risan yacht, or a cowboy on the American frontier, or maybe a blue collar worker on a 20th century Romulus. Who put you there? Is it an enemy scheme, alien influence, holodeck malfunction or fantasy made real?
Unofficial LC prompt #2: "Assuming Command" ~ submitted by starswordc
Jean-Luc Picard, an experienced career officer with a first-rate crew and a ship so new she squeaked, ready and eager to take on the universe and preach the Federation's gospel. Benjamin Lafayette Sisko, a grieving widower and single father, put out to pasture in a backwater post expecting one last tour before retirement, with a fiery Bajoran redhead for an XO who took an instant dislike to him.
And then there's you. Write a story or a log entry about your captain's first day in command of their ship. Did Starfleet Command throw them in the deep end right away, or did they get a few days to get to know their crew? What did their new underlings think of them? Did it all go off without a hitch, or were there unforeseen consequences?
Unofficial LC prompt #3: "Broken Threads" ~ submitted by starswordc
Many of us have complained in the past about Cryptic having the attention span of a goldfish and leaving plots unfinished left and right. The Fek'Ihri are implied to be the result of a foreign plot which is never fulfilled, the Gorn separatists are barely alluded to outside of doff assignments, the True Way get no conclusive resolution (yes, you captured two of their leaders, but they're a terrorist organization), and the fact that there's a continuing fragment of the Romulan Star Empire, reeling from the loss of Empress Sela, is never referred to again after "Hidden Camera".
Of course, this isn't unique to Cryptic; there are plenty of cases in the various series where a plot thread was left to dangle. Pick a plot from the series or game that was left unresolved and do something interesting with it.
Have at it, boys and girls. And remember, standard LC rules apply, even though this is an unofficial thread.
Discussion thread here.
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
Problem?
You DO realize they never post their stories in these threads right?
They seem to like starting their own threads with said topics, and while lstories are fascinating and a good read and all...
... It gets kinda ridiculous when 10 forward has 4 different story threads in it
Mwahahahahahahaha
I'd prefer that you do it in the discussion thread but there's really nothing I can do besides politely ask you to respect the authors who post here by not clogging this thread with random posts.
The warbird's bridge was old, but functional, like the rest of the ship. Now, instead of a few old veterans, the room held a pair of younger Rihannsu in farmer's outfits and a middle-aged woman in an armored vest and pants.
"You, tr'Khev. You're first officer until I can get a better one. You, ir'Kellan, you know engines?"
"Yessir," said the terrified Rihanha addressed as ir'Kellan.
"Good. Get your tail down to the singularity core and keep it going. We'll pick up as many of our people as we can and get the ariennye out of here."
The wiry, auburn-haired Rihanha who had been snapping out orders slid herself into the command chair--not hers, never hers, she had to believe that the Riov had survived--and started a quick systems check.
"Tr'Khev, get to the weapons station and await my orders, now."
"But..."
"Now! Do you want to live or not?"
"Yessir," said the swarthy Rihan youth, taking his position at the tactical console.
"Impulse is working...going to be hard to get above warp 5, but at least we HAVE warp..."
The woman, known to her (deceased) friends variously as "Lieutenant", "Names", and "Oh, hey", tried not to think of the last few hours.
She'd been stable, damn it! Not happy, never that, but she'd had a life and she'd gone through the motions.
The Tal Shiar raid, with those creepy alien drones as backup, had ended that.
Ameh ir'Tanat, the man who'd saved her life at least five times and had never faltered in his efforts to help her heal her mental scars, was dead. The Riov, the post to which she tied herself for sanity, was gone, taken by a drone. Half of Virinat Colony's population was dead, and half of the rest were taken. Only a handful of shuttles had made it out, out of three dozen.
The Ravon was working, at least. Arrain D'vex had kept it in good shape, and Riov Eveh had done fairly regular supply runs with it. Warp drive, shields, those good old quantum torpedoes they'd stashed in the hold...Everything.
"You, boy, set a course for the closest shuttle. We're picking up as many people as we...Elements!"
A titanic dreadnought of a configuration the woman didn't know slipped out of nowhere and loomed less than five kilometers away. Consoles beeped as the power suddenly fluctuated wildly.
"Sir! I think I can send them a message!"
"Do that! Hail the alien vessel!"
"Channel open, sir!"
"Greetings, aliens! This is the Rihan starship Ravon, currently engaged in rescue operations in this system. Who are you and what do you want?"
The response was a twisted, garbled cut-and paste of the woman's message. "Want...you..." hissed the static-laden signal. "Want...ship!"
The woman steeled herself for death, but then, strangely, the dreadnought...vanished.
It wasn't a cloaking device; one moment the ship was there and the next it wasn't, no ripples or other effects of a cloak.
A cloak, like that of the D'deridex-class warbird that had just decloaked in front of the ancient little Ravon.
"Sir!" said tr'Khev, admittedly an eager young lad for all of his flaws. "We are being hailed by the warbird, registers as IRW Khnial!"
"Open a channel." The woman's voice was guarded.
The viewscreen flickered to a view of a bridge, and the woman almost screamed.
"I am Colonel Hakeev of the Tal Shiar," said the bulky, middle-aged bald man on the viewscreen. "Surrender immediately!"
"Kid," snarled the Rihan woman, bile surging up her throat, "Shoot them, now!"
"Sir?" said tr'Khev in confusion.
"SHOOT THAT FILTH!" screamed the woman, lunging for the tactical console and pushing tr'Khev out of the way as she repeatedly hammered the "fire all" button.
The old warbird's munitions were horribly out-of-date, but a veritable blitzekrieg of plasma fire, from dual beam banks and a single turret, managed to catch the larger ship's shields in synchrony with their harmonic wavelength, allowing a single quantum torpedo to slip through.
Something exploded on the Khnial's bridge, and Colonel Hakeev was thrown sideways with a scream.
"The next time I say fire, boy, obey me! Get us into position for an attack run, target weapons and shields!"
"Yes, sir...sending out a distress call on all frequencies, as well."
"Just divert full power to the weapons and open fire!"
"MY EYE!!!" Both the woman and the young man looked up at the viewscreen as they realized the channel was still open.
Hakeev hauled himself back into the frame, a piece of metal sticking out of a ruined eye socket. His remaining eye sought out the woman, and he snarled.
"I'll kill you for that, scum! Open fire! Destroy them!"
"Fvadt!" The woman leaped back to her seat and grabbed the controls. "Tr'Khev, hit them with everything you have! I'm not letting him take me without a fight!"
A plasma beam sliced into the little warbird's side, searing through its shields and into the hull. Red alert sirens blared.
"Something's coming!" shouted tr'Khev. "A ship, coming in at warp 9!"
"So they want a fight, do they? They can have it!"
Then a retrofitted Dhelan-class warbird dropped out of warp on the Khnial's flank and blasted its starboard shields into nothing with a hail of plasma fire.
"Civilian warbird, this is Riov Temer of the RRW D'serek, with Kreh'dhhokh Mol'Rihan. We received your distress call and are here to assist."
"Rebel scum!" sneered Hakeev. "Destroy them!"
The D'deridex-class spewed plasma and torpedoes, but the nimble escort slipped around its flank and pummeled its rear. The T'liss-class ducked and rolled as the woman tried to dodge the torpedoes.
The D'serek drew the massive battleship's fire, plasma cannons pounding into its hull and shields, allowing the Ravon to flank the Khnial. As the battleship's tactical officer redistributed the shields, the woman smiled grimly.
"Fire everything, now! Target their weapons and shields!"
Plasma fire and torpedoes scored the now-unprotected port flank, lancing into the weapons ports and frying a shield emitter.
"Reload the torpedoes, now!"
"Damn you!" screamed Hakeev on the viewscreen. "This isn't over, rebel scum! I will have my revenge!"
The battleship turned, plasma burning on its hull, and jumped to warp.
"FOLLOW THEM!" yelled the woman. "Finish that ahlh aehallhai off!"
"Riov," said tr'Khev cautiously, "they're leaving the system at warp 8. We can't even make warp 6 on this ship, we'd never catch them."
"No," snarled the woman quietly. "No, you do not just escape me like that, Hakeev. I will find you one day. And then I will end you."
"Uh...the D'serek is hailing us, Riov."
"On screen."
"Greetings," said the tawny-skinned Rihan man. "I am Subcommander Temer of Kreh'dhhokh Mol'Rihan. Do you require further assistance?"
"Jolan'tru. I've got many names, but you can call me...Do'eth ir'Virinat. For now. We're fine as we are, I think we got everybody who escaped. But what the Ariennye is Kreh'dhhokh Mol'Rihan?"
***
Rihan flotilla; the mobile base of Kreh'dhhokh Mol'Rihan. Three hours later.
The woman was bored.
Proconsul D'tan of Kreh'dhhokh Mol'Rihan was apparently in an urgent meeting, as was Subcommander Temer. So she was sitting on an uncomfortable chair in a tastelessly-decorated waiting room, which was currently empty save for her. That lucky boy tr'Khev hadn't been important enough to be forced to wait, so he got to go enjoy some real pre-Hobus ale in the mess hall while the woman had to sit and wait.
She leaned back and closed her eyes. Might as well try to get some sleep...
Then again, sleep would mean nightmares now, and she knew it.
Footsteps sounded, and a heavy person sat down in the chair next to her. The woman cracked one eye open.
"Greetings," said the Jem'Hadar politely. "I am Omek'ti'kallan, servant of Glorious Odo'Ital, may his name be praised. Who are you?"
"Nobody important," said the woman. She liked this man already. "What's a Jem'Hadar doing here?"
"Glorious Odo'Ital commanded His servants to find more gods. We obey Glorious Odo'Ital in all things, so we came to this quadrant and agreed to sign on with various organizations to find more gods to please Glorious Odo'Ital."
"Interesting," said the woman noncommittally. "You looking for a ship?"
"I was hoping to be posted to one, yes."
"Good. I need a security chief and tac officer. Can you do those?"
"Yes. I have experience defending several planets and systems in Odo'Ital's glorious name while in command of starships and ground teams. On a personal note, may I hear your story? The Fourth Word of Odo'Ital is to learn about others so that one can understand them more easily."
The woman stiffened, but only slightly.
"I won't tell you everything, but the short version is...I lost my love on ch'Rihan and spent most of the time since staying low across the quadrant. Aliens called the Elachi attacked my adopted home with the Tal Shiar and destroyed the colony, all of my friends are dead, and the man who killed my love showed up in his ship and almost destroyed the survivors."
Omek'ti'kallan was actually momentarily stunned by that.
"I am sorry for your loss--losses," he said. "May Odo'Ital send you better fortune."
The woman grimaced, tears welling up in her eyes at last.
"Thank you," she sniffled, struggling not to sob. "You're hired, by the way. If they let me keep the Ravon, I'll take you to your quarters whenever I get done with this meeting I'm waiting for."
"Um..." said Omek'ti'kallan, unsure of what to do. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," sniffled the woman, wiping her eyes. She was still crying; her brave face wasn't very good. "I just...Ameh ir'Tanat, he saved my life more times than I cam count on one hand. He was a survivor, he was a hero. He was tough, and strong, and brave, and a good soldier. And now he's dead and I'm here."
"Odo'Ital weeps for your loss," said Omek'ti'kallan. "May your friend bathe in His light."
"Thank you," said the woman, wiping her eyes on her sleeve again. She was still sniffling, but not choking on sobs anymore. "I'm D'trel, by the way."
"I am honored to meet you, D'trel. Where is your ship docked?"
"We're attached to this Tulwar's main shuttlebay. Head down there, take a quick shuttle to the little T'liss-class that's right outside. They'll probably be ready for me in five minutes, and I'll be back in a few hours. We can work on getting a crew together once I've introduced you to the men I have."
"Understood," said Omek'ti'kallan. "I will wait for you. Praise Odo'Ital!"
He saluted crisply and left. D'trel smiled a little. That was a good man right there.
A pity good men died around her.
What about Rrueo's first day? R'j's? Shalo's? T'pia's?
Don't give up, Shevet! I love your stories to bits!
"I have command," I say, formally, saluting the heavy-set man before me.
"You have command, sir," Martin Hudson confirms with an equally formal salute. My new exec is a big man, with dark hair turning a little salt-and-pepper at the temples. Older than me... that'll take some management. "If you want to make a speech, sir, the podium's set up in the mess hall."
"Oh, hell, no," I say. "I haven't got time for all that malarkey. Just let me get to the bridge and meet my senior officers, will you?" There will be time to get to know my crew, and boring them all into insensibility with an I-am-conscious-of-this-honour-and-responsibility speech is so not my style. I think I can feel a wave of disapproval crashing over me from Commander Hudson, though, as he leads me to the turbolift. Not that I need to be led, I know my way round an NX-class starship by now.
"Why do they still call them NX?" I wonder aloud. "We've built more than two hundred and fifty of them, they've got to stop being experimental at some point. I should've asked Admiral Reed about it at that reception last night...." But Reed was busy nattering with a bunch of our Vulcan and Andorian allies, and anyway he doesn't need the opinions of the likes of me. Hudson says nothing. I start to worry a little. I don't really want an executive officer I can't get on with - having been a lousy exec myself, I know how much it makes a captain's job harder. Hudson is showing early signs of being a bad exec - maybe a different kind of bad exec from me, but still a bad exec. He has a definite passed-over-in-favour-of-this-young-hotshot look about him, and that's not good.
"Captain on the bridge!" And a whole bunch of people in blue coveralls stand up and salute. So I salute back, and say, "Stand easy, everyone. I'm Ronnie Grau, I'm in charge of this shebang, so let's get to know each other, shall we?"
Hudson makes the introductions. "Lieutenant Commander Nansen, head of engineering." A tall, solid, grey-haired man, Nansen looks dependable. That's a good thing in a chief engineer. "Subcommander Sunod, sciences." A slender Vulcan, wearing Vulcan diplomatic robes instead of Starfleet uniform, face frozen solid like any good Vulcan's. "Dr. Cholt." Round, smiling, Denobulan face, I can get along with Denobulans, this isn't so bad. "Lieutenant Hall, armory officer." She is plump, dark-haired, rather prim in appearance. Hope she's good. "Ensign Koslov, communications." Small, dark-haired, a little excitable-looking. He looks all right, though. "Ensign Lewes, helm and navigation." She has jet-black hair maybe one shade darker than her skin, and her eyes are brown, steady and level; she projects an air of competence. Let's hope it's justified.
"OK," I say. "We're going to have plenty of time to find out more about each other - first job we've got lined up is taking us out past 61 Cygni, our Tellarite buddies have some problem they want Starfleet to look into." I plump myself down in the command chair. It feels surprisingly comfortable.
"Details, sir?" asks Sunod.
"Don't have 'em, yet. Our first step will be to check in with the Tellarites and get the gen from them. After that, it'll be command conference time, and we'll work out a plan of action. OK, then. Let's open this baby up, point her in the direction of Tellar, and see what she can do." Enthusiastic grin from Koslov, slight smiles from Nansen and Lewes. Engineering and helm both want to show me their stuff, this is good. Hudson's face is blanker than the Vulcan's. Not so good.
"Sending departure clearance request to space traffic control," says Koslov. Oh, right, I knew I was forgetting something. I got into too many bad habits during the Romulan war.
"Thrusters ahead full," Lewes reports. "Impulse engines on standby... clearance received... we're good to go, sir."
"OK," I say. "Ahead full impulse. Stand ready for warp drive as soon as we reach system limits." I've warped out from low Earth orbit before, granted, but it rattles your teeth.
The docking cradle dwindles in the reverse angle viewer. I hear tell they have plans, somewhere, for an enclosed spacedock, a massive orbital structure that'll house dozens of ships. Sounds ambitious, and maybe impractical. I check the readouts on the command chair's armrests - all this built-in instrumentation, I'll grant you, is a good idea.
"Proceeding on departure vector," says Lewes.
"Sensors are clear," says Sunod, then, "Wait. I have a contact at extreme range."
Now that's interesting. There's a fair amount of traffic in Sol system anyway, granted, but space is big - there's no reason for anything out there to be getting in our way. I sit forward a little bit. "Get me a read on it."
"Configuration and power levels suggest... a warship. Close match for an Andorian design," says Sunod.
"Confirm that, sir," says Koslov. "I'm getting a transponder ID... IGV Charal. Sir, they're hailing us."
"OK, let's see what they've got to say. On screen." I lean back again.
A blue face forms in the main viewer, a fierce face, topped with twitching antennae. "I am Commander Ythav th'Shal of the Imperial Guard," he announces himself.
"Pleased to meet you," I say. "Captain Veronika Grau of the USS Goshawk. What the heck, call me Ronnie, everyone does. So what can we do for the Imperial Guard?"
Th'Shal leans forward, so that his face fills my screen. "You can die, Grau. By clan-honour and clan-right, I invoke justice upon you. Commend your soul to whatever gods you serve, Grau, for your life ends today."
The screen goes blank. "Sir," says Sunod, "the Charal has powered weapons and is moving on an intercept vector."
Aw, cripes. "OK," I say, "let's not panic. Let's go max evasive, and power up weapons, and oh, yeah, red alert. Koslov, can you get a priority message through to Starfleet Command?"
"Trying, sir," says Koslov, "but the Charal seems to be jamming on all frequencies." Oh, well, no surprise there. I try to remember what I know about the Charal. Variant on the Kumari design, I think, with a chunkier fuselage and more of a tech and operations bent... but with the same nasty weapons mix as the Kumari. I do not want to be in that ship's forward firing arc, it will be bad for my health.
What the hell did I do to offend the Andorians? Though that guy th'Shal did look vaguely familiar.
"Charal will be in effective weapons range in three minutes," Sunod warns me.
"Right," I say, "so let's try and keep him ineffective. Run evasion pattern Theta, try to get on his flanks, stay out of the firing solution for his forward cannons."
"Do we return fire?" asks Lieutenant Hall.
"If fired upon - oh, hell, yes."
"The Andorians are our allies, sir," says Hudson.
"Tell him that," I say. "Actually, that's a thought. Koslov, transmit the Articles of Federation at him on every channel you can manage. It might remind him of his treaty obligations, or bore him into a coma. Either would be good." I swear I can see the Andorian ship on the main screen, now, a dot of light zooming across the starscape. "Lewes, start that evasion pattern, now."
Time is on my side. Every minute I can stay alive is a minute in which Earth forces can spot what's going on, can scramble more ships to intercept, can help me. The Andorians are our allies, I don't want to kill that ship if I can possibly help it. Something is very wrong here, though. I key the intercom. "Attention all crew," I say, "this is Captain Grau. We are under attack by an Andorian ship, claiming clan-honour as a pretext. If anyone here might have offended an Andorian clan in any way, let me know now. I'm not suggesting handing anyone over to them, but if we can find out what's causing this, it might give us some way to negotiate. Lines are open. In the meantime, stand ready at battle stations, people, this could get rough."
"Charal is firing, sir," says Sunod. At extreme range: little blue-white flashes of hot Andorian phaser light stippling the starfield. "Impacts registering. Minimal damage, taking hits from their turrets only." Lewes is flinging the ship around in a random-walk evasion pattern, staying out of the deadly cone of fire from the Charal's main cannons. So far -
A bluish light comes probing towards us. "Polarize the hull plating!" I snap.
"Sir," says Hudson, "we have shields now."
"Polarize the hull anyway. Let's make assurance doubly sure, and besides, he's trying for us with a tractor beam." Everything seems unnaturally peaceful. The inertial dampeners are compensating smoothly for Lewes's manoeuvres, and the light hits from the Andorian's turrets aren't shaking us at all....
"Polarizing hull," says Nansen. "Ah, right. The graviton potentials cancel out, a tractor beam can't lock on a polarized hull." I don't know where I remembered that bit of information from, but I'm damned glad I did.
"Something is wrong," says Koslov. "Standard Andorian honour challenges follow a set stylistic pattern -"
"Not now, Ensign," says Hudson.
The screen flares as the Charal's tractor beam gropes ineffectually over us. The Andorian is close enough to see, now; stubby bullet-shaped hull and wide wings, like some fighter plane out of Earth's past. But this is now, and the Charal is no little atmospheric fighter, but a starship - a fully armed, and very nimble starship, as she shows by slewing round in a tight turn -
"Hard to port!"
Goshawk twists and turns, just - just - eluding the sudden barrage of phaser fire from the Charal's forward cannons. Lewes is cursing under her breath. Th'Shal is smart, and his ship is fast and agile. We are not going to be able to keep out of his arc of fire for long.
My arc of fire is wider; I check. Hall is returning fire with the phase cannons, but if they're having any impact on the Andorian ship, I'm sure as heck not seeing it.
We need an edge, somehow, somewhere, and we need it now. "Steer three one seven mark two zero," I say. Turning wider, to buy us a little more space, a little more time. "Lewes. Flirt with him."
"Sir?"
"Try and stay just outside the arc of his cannons. Make him think he can hit us if he tries hard enough."
"He might very well be right, sir," says Lewes. "That guy's good."
"Don't I know it. The psycho-smurfs always were.... What the hell did I do to get this guy mad at me?"
"Do you recall anything?" asks Sunod.
"No. Though I'm sure I've seen him before. But I don't know where." Blue-white phaser bolts spatter across the sky again. A warning light flashes on my readouts. Shield strength is falling.
"Flirting, sir," says Lewes. "But that was no love-tap."
"OK," I say. "Flirt some more... then, next time he lets go with a barrage, fake a cripple. Make him think he's winged us. After which -" I sketch out a path on the tactical repeater. "I want this."
"Can do, sir," says Lewes. "Assuming he doesn't cripple us for real."
"Nansen. Full power to shields, everything you can spare for RCS thrusters. Never mind the phase cannons, they're not hurting him any." And I don't know why that is, either. "Hall, leave weapons systems for the moment... concentrate on one thing. The grappler."
"Charal is coming around!" yells Lewes. "Cannons building - firing now!"
"Do it!" I yell.
Goshawk slews and tumbles in space. The starfield swirls vertiginously in the viewscreen. The lethal shape of the Andorian looms up, suddenly closing for the kill. I pray that Lewes has swung us on to the right vector, that Nansen has pumped enough reserve power into the RCS arrays -
"Now!"
My ship steadies and leaps forward, Andorian phaser fire blazing harmlessly over her as we duck beneath the oncoming Charal and move in a tight, tight turn.
"Grappler now!"
"Grappler away." A slight shudder, as the grappling hook shoots out of our hull. "Running," says Hall, "running... impact... and locked. We're locked to the Charal's rear engine assembly."
"Awright," I say with satisfaction. "Lewes, keep the tension on the line. Hall, now's time for the phase cannons. Take out those rear-mounted turrets."
And we'll be safe, at least for long enough. With Goshawk grappled tightly to his rear quadrant, th'Shal can't turn his ship tight enough to bring that lethal forward armament to bear. And he can polarize his hull till the cows come home, it'll make no difference to the claw of the grappler. We've bought ourselves time, and time was always on our side.
Damage lights wink at me. "Hall," I say irritably, "take those turrets out." Fire from the Andorian is still weakening our forward screen.
"I hit them," says Hall. "I'm sure I hit them... setting up for another barrage, sir."
"Hold on," I say. Something is wrong here... and, all of a sudden, I think I know what is wrong.
"Koslov," I say. "You were saying something about the Andorian honour challenge?"
"Uh, yes, sir," says Koslov. "They have - they are always specific, sir. About the cause of the offence, whatever it might be - they always state it, sir, explicitly, so there can be no argument."
Click, click, click, goes the row of dominoes falling inside my head. "Still registering hits from their weapons," I say. "Lieutenant Hall. Put a stop to that, please. Target their engine section, all phase cannons, maximum fire."
Hall's head snaps round towards me. As does every other head on the bridge. "I know what I'm doing," I say. "You have your orders. Fire."
I'll give her credit, she doesn't hesitate. Hudson looks like he'd like to say something, though. "Opening fire," says Hall. "Target's shields dropping... registering damage.... Sir, the Charal is... is destroyed. Warp core breach."
I smile, then. "Mr. Koslov," I say. "Hail the Charal."
"We just destroyed the Charal!," says Hudson.
"Did we?" There's a couple of things that prove I'm right; I name the most obvious one. "Then what's our grapple still locked on to?"
"Hailing," says Koslov. He looks utterly bewildered. "Sir, I'm... I'm getting a response."
"On screen."
Ythav th'Shal looks as though he's sucking lemons. "Nicely done, Captain Grau," he says. A beast, but a just beast.
"Thanks," I say. "Can we have the computer codes, now, to bring our weapons out of simulation mode? And give my regards to Admiral Reed, will you? I guess you cooked up this little tactical exercise at the reception last night?" I knew I'd seen him before.
"I did tell him," th'Shal grumbles, "that the simulation wouldn't be good enough to fool an experienced combat commander. We had a little bet, even - he thought you would trust your instruments too much, that you would not notice the lack of impact from our bolts, the absence of transient EM surges in your power grid. Well, I have won that bet, I should thank you for that, at least...."
"Good," I say. "And for whatever it's worth, Commander, I'm damned glad it was a simulation, because I for sure do not want to be up against your ship for real."
Th'Shal laughs. "It is best if we're on the same side," he says. "I won't trouble you further, Captain Grau. Good luck on your voyage to Tellar."
"Thanks. OK, folks, release grapple, stand down from red alert, check those computer codes... and let's be on our merry way." I sink back into the command chair. "Whatever the Tellarites throw at us, I'm damned sure it can't be anything worse than Admiral Reed's little surprises...."
Isaac Asimov, Foundation, from the USS Bajors dedication plaque
Its dark and smoky in the Jefferies tube and my eyes burn from the smoke of plastic and insulation. Just gotta keep climbing, down, down, down, and theres the hatch. I kick it loose and swing through into an equally smoky corridor; PFC. Davos quickly follows behind me.
The conference room across the corridor is on fire, but thats beside the point for now. Davos and I advance room to room, doorway to doorway. I spot a bald green head poke out into the hall two doors up. Without conscious thought the phaser rifle in my hands hums with power and a golden lance leaps from the emitter and sprays the wall behind with half the Orions face.
Davos moves ahead, I level my rifle to cover him as he goes for the door of sickbay, and then he grunts and falls backwards, the ornate brass hilt of a knife sticking from under his left collarbone. A barely dressed female greenskin emerges from the doorway and my shot splashes off a personal shield. She whirls and throws something at me; I jerk sideways into the wall. Theres a muffled thrum from somewhere above me as the Kiras spinal phaser finally fires, and the greenskin charges me, having pulled two more knives from Im-not-sure-I-want-to-know-where.
Too close to fire. I swing my rifle as a quarterstaff at her chin; she parries with a forearm and slashes at my face with a knife, then backsteps. I grit my teeth at the sudden pain on my cheek and try to bring the rifle to bear but she slashes across my front and swings a roundhouse kick and the phaser, sling cut, goes flying from my hands.
Okay, basic training, combat drill from Gunny Elwar. I drop into Sauvikta Three as she moves in. I jab at her midsection and she slaps the arm wide and I kick right at her kneecap. She traps the leg and punches with a knife-wielding left hand. I catch that wrist and the ghost of somethingfear? Surprise?flashes across her face. I knee her in the stomach and grab at the metal bikini and headbutt her face and PAIN, SCREAMING BURNING AGONY OH PROPHETS HELP ME
I crumple to my knees, her other knife buried to the hilt in the right side of my abdomen with fiery agony spreading like wildfire. Above me the matron shakes her head as if to clear it and glares at me and
Damn it, Captain, shut up!
Thats when I really wake up. No fire, no smoke, no pain, no greenskin, just a decently appointed business-class room on a starliner.
Then the sour taste of bile fills my mouth and I barely make it to the toilet in time.
As I sit there in a heap, leaning over yesterdays dinner, I feel someone come up behind me. That old nightmare again, Eleya? Tess asks in a concerned tone, rubbing my back.
I slowly stand and walk over to our rooms sink and pick up my toothbrush. Its worse when Im stressed. I hurriedly scrub the hell out of my teeth.
Not like were going into combat today, El, she comments, heading over to our suitcases. Time to get up, anyway. Ill, uh, find you some underwear. A sports bra and panties land next to me a moment later.
Bynam and Biri are meeting us there, right? I triple-check as I step into the panties and pull them up.
Yes, and sos TVar, and so are most of the people who got off the Hammond. Just like the last five times you asked.
You were counting? I yank the bra down and adjust it. My heartrates finally starting to go down. You want to order room service or go down to the galley?
She opens her mouth to answer but the P.A. chirps instead. Attention all passengers, this is Captain Savak with an update on arrival. The time is stardate 86644.03, 0745 hours, 7 August 2409 Earth Standard, 1737 hours, 9 Ailat 147375 Vulcan Standard. We are one hour and fifteen minutes ahead of schedule and will be arriving in orbit of Vulcan in seventy-five minutes. Your designated pickups, if any, have been notified. The galley and stores will remain open during debarkation but please be aware of your scheduled exit time and connections, if any, and have your identification and customs papers ready. Thank you for flying Starbound.
I pull on an undershirt and trousers and zip up my red-and-white COs uniform jacket. I glance over at Tess, whos putting the finishing touches on her makeup, and as usual notice that shes left her red-and-black jacket unzipped far enough to show off a noticeable amount of cleavage. Showoff. I shake my head and send a preorder to the galley for our breakfasts.
We disembark over two hours later and head for customs, an envelope with a sheet of archival plastic snugly under my arm. A uniformed Vulcan Defense Force officer sits behind the counter and orders us, Place your hands on the palm scanners and state your name and occupation for the record.
Kanril Eleya, Captain, Federation Starfleet.
Tesjha Phohl, Commander, Federation Starfleet.
He leans forward and taps something on his console. There is a discrepancy. Your biometric identification lists you as Siritesjha shPhohlhi. Please explain.
Siritesjha is my Imperial name. Tesjha is my birth name. The customs officer stares at her, carefully expressionless. She lets out a frustrated breath and explains, Youve heard of Thylek Shran? Pre-Federation history? In Imperial Andorii his name is Hravishran thZoarhi.
Which is your legal name?
Theyre both legal names. Youve seriously never dealt with an Andorian before?
Shall I get Security?
Yeah, and Ill tell them the same
Look, Officer, I interrupt, Andorians use multiple names depending on which of their cultures theyre dealing with. Tess uses one name with her family and friends in the Adris Islands, or with me, and a different one with the Imperial government. Just use Siritesjha since youve already got it on the paperwork. Sound logical?
Very well. Purpose of your visit?
Business, I answer. Im meeting my ship. Tess is my first officer.
Do you have anything to declare?
Yes, uh, one case of Indali Vineyards 2406 kaptera, three cases of Klatha Reserve 2405. He gives me the same neutral look he gave Tess. Its springwine. Bajoran alcoholic beverage? Made from kava juice? Whatever, Ive got the import paperwork here. I pass a data solid through the window to him.
Import fee?
Starfleets footing the bill; its all there.
You are aware that many Vulcan cities prohibit the consumption of alcohol?
Dont worry, my feet arent even touching the ground this trip. Im going straight to the Starfleet yard, and were shipping out to Archanis sector end of next week.
Very well. I hope your visit to Vulcan is productive. His expression doesnt change but I can hear the tinge of boredom in his voice. You may go.
As we go out the door Tess mutters, Damn pointy-ears probably jealous were headed for the front lines.
Vulcans dont get jealous, Tess.
Pfft. Oh, yes, they do. Dont ask me how I know, though.
Outside customs I hear a squeal and fifty-nine kilos of copper-skinned Trill collide with me. Oof. Hey, Biri.
Great to see you, El!
It has only been a month, a carefully controlled voice remarks. I look up and TVar meets my eyes; I catch a glint of amusement in those coffee-colored orbs. Nevertheless, it is good to see you, Captain.
Likewise, TVar. So, uh, whats the plan?
The shipyard commandant, Rear Admiral Taurik, will be meeting us at the yard, my mutton-chopped Andorian chief engineer, Bynam Ehrob, answers. He sent a shuttle to pick us up. Weve got about 250 of 1,050 crew out here already and
Captain Kan-rile? a voice asks.
I turn to a Bolian warrant officer with pilots wings sewn onto the shoulder of her uniform jacket. Its pronounced Kan-rill, I correct her.
Sorry, sir.
Maam, Biri corrects him before I can open my mouth.
Sorry, maam.
No, Im a sir, shes a maam.
The Bolian stands there looking stupid for a minute. Moving on. Im Warrant Officer Arerdwa Thele. The admiral sent me to collect you and your command staff.
Well, were still waiting on the CMO and security chief.
Thele consults a datapad. According to this Lieutenants Wirrpanda and Korekh are scheduled to arrive on the next transport from Starbase 621 in eight hours. Your suitcases have been transferred to my shuttle. If youll follow me, please.
He leads us down two decks and through several corridors to a shuttlebay where a big Type-7 passenger shuttle with the name Al-Birjandi emblazoned on the hull sits waiting. We board and buckle in.
TVar sits beside me. I thought you should know, Captain, that I am scheduled for the promotion exam in one month. If I pass I may not be with you for very much longer.
You finished those command school classes? I ask her, pleased.
Yes, maam. In fact Captain Justine Haas said she enjoyed my solution to the command test.
Congratulations. Well, if they give you a ship Ill be sorry to see you go, but I think youll make a good CO.
Thank you, maam.
A short warp 3 hop and the second-busiest shipyard in the Federation appears on the viewscreen. If I remember my history correctly, the 40 Eridani A Starfleet Construction Yard was built on the site of an old Vulcan shipyard that was destroyed by a Romulan deep-strike during the Earth-Romulan War. Its smaller but a lot more organized-looking than Utopia Planitia or the Okana Shipyard back home. A single central core, tapered at either end, stands five kilometers tall, with six decks of petals fanning out eight klicks in any direction. Itll handle any ship in the Starfleet catalog and most that arent.
Our pilot swings us past a battered relic of an Excelsior-class on the second deck from the top, swarmed by Sphinx workpods and hard-suited workers cutting blasted hull plates free. Ships been shot to hell by somebody. Greenskins or Gorn would be my guessthe damage doesnt look explosive enough for Klingons.
Maam, Thele says through the intercom, you might want to come up front for this. I unbuckle and work my way to the cockpit as we close with the central core. Then Thele banks right and pitches the shuttle forward and I grab at the overhead handle. Feels like hes got the inertial dampeners set low up here. Smart, lets you feel the ship.
Then my jaw drops. The huge elliptical saucer of a starship, half a kilometer wide, resplendent in a fresh coat of pale grey, lies below and in front of us, lit from within by its windows and from without by floodlights. In huge block letters across the saucer, two words: U.S.S. Bajor. Below that, the registry, NCC-97238.
A Galaxy-class starship.
My ship.
Im in love.
A light-skinned Vulcan male with two admirals pips on his chest meets us in the secondary shuttlebay. Kanril Eleya? I am Rear Admiral Taurik.
I snap to attention. Sir. Yes sir. I take the envelope from under my arm and hand it to him with a formal flourish, intoning, Pursuant to Starfleet Bureau of Personnel, Staffing Order Number 2409-Charlie-44332174-Alpha, I, Kanril Eleya, hereby assume command of United Federation of Planets Starship Bajor, Naval Construction Contract 97238.
Thank you. Pursuant to orders I hereby relinquish command of this vessel to you. At ease, Captain Kanril Eleya.
Glad we got that out of the way. I hate formalities. Sir, some of my command crew. Commander Tess Phohl, my XO and tactical officer, Lieutenant Commander Birail Riyannis, my science officer, my ops officer Lieutenant TVar, and my chief engineer Lieutenant Commander Bynam Ehrob.
Sir, the others say in acknowledgement. He nods. I will have somebody deliver your luggage to your quarters. This way, please.
Biri and Bynam peel off early to visit their sections but Tess and TVar quietly follow on our heels. You are familiar with the differences between the Bajor and earlier vessels of type? Taurik asks during a turbolift ride.
Increased endurance, firepower and speed, quantum-reinforced superstructure, a meter of ablative armor and the toughest shields this side of a starbase, Tess rattles off from memory. Shes half-explorer, half-battleship, sir, to replenish losses against the Klingons.
Yes, until the Odyssey-class enters full production next year. After the Bajor and her sisters there will be no more Galaxy-class starships. The turbolift slides open and we emerge on the bridge. Shipyard workers in a riotous mix of coveralls and service uniforms wander back and forth, working on the computers and putting the finishing touches on the computers. The whole place stinks slightly of industrial chemicals. I look at Taurik and catch a wistful look in his eyes. Ive learned to look at the eyes with TVar. It is the end of an era, Captain Kanril.
Hmm?
On my first tour out of Starfleet Academy I was assigned to the Enterprise-D. I was present at the beginning, and I am now here at the end. Twenty-eight ships and then no more. He points at a speck of light on the viewscreen. We call it the Planet-class. Because each ship is named after a Federation homeworld, you see. Vulcan, Trill, Cait, Andoria, Earth, Coridan
Bajor.
As you say, Captain. And each will receive from ten to fifteen percent of its initial complement from its namesake world, practicality permitting.
How many Bajorans are we getting, sir? Tess asks.
One hundred fifty-seven. Not including yourself, Captain. I whistle. Itll be the most Bajorans Ive served with since I left the Militia. Your ready room is this way.
My combadge chirps as we enter. Kanril.
Captain, Engineering, Bynams voice returns. What the fraks up with this reactor? Doesnt match the specs I was given. Not reading any dilithium either.
I look to the admiral. It is a Vector Industries X-227, Commander.
Theres a pause. A testbed design? Youve gotta be kidding me.
The design passed all trials and simulations, Commander; it is safe. It uses gravity fields to confine the reaction instead of dilithium. The core ejection systems have also been redesigned. You seem to have been given incorrect specifications.
Looks like.
Admiral, I ask uncomfortably, is that thing on all the Series 23 ships or just the Bajor?
Neither. I give him a look and wait for him to finish the sentence. The Trill, Coridan, Benzar, and Zakdorn also have one, the rest use a standard core. Commander Ehrob, I will see to it you are provided the correct documentation.
No need, its in the computer. CHENG out.
Any other surprises for me, Admiral?
You are aware the ship carries quantum torpedoes instead of photons? I nod. Thats been common on the Galaxy-class since the late eighties. Then, no.
I sit down at my desk. Nice, comfortable chair. I look around. The ready rooms bigger than I had on the George Hammond.
Have you ever served aboard a Galaxy-class, Captain? Taurik asks.
I shake my head. Last heavy capital I was on was a Regent-class, USS Betazed.
I remember her. She came from this yard as well. We have some paperwork to look over.
Paperwork. Of course. I grab a PADD and start on the forms.
An hour later were still working. I see ten quantum torpedoes on this inventory. Were supposed to have 180 in the magazine. Thoughts?
There was a delay at the factory. They will not be delivered until
Until when? Tuesday? Wrong answer. You are going to find me a full load of torpedoes by the launch ceremony or I am not leaving dock. End of discussion.
You are out of line, Captain, Taurik chides me.
Am I? Would you like to explain another Enterprise-B fiasco to Starfleet Command? Over 350 people died because the San Fran yard dragged its feet on the final touches.
That was a series of freak coincidences. The odds of all the required conditions
Let me explain the Prophets sense of humor to you, sir, I tell him in a sardonic tone. The higher anyone says the odds are against something happening, the greater the likelihood it is going to happen.
He stares at me. After a moment: That is most illogical, Captain.
Illogical, but true, TVar says from his right without looking up from her PADD. Tess hastily turns a bark of laughter into a hacking cough.
Taurik purses his lips. I will see what I can do to expedite delivery.
Thank you, sir. Now, about the launch ceremony
Crew keep arriving throughout the day, and the paperwork piles up faster than I can get rid of it. Next day is much the same but I get a bit of a break at midday to meet the last two members of my senior staff. Due to the outcome of the court-martial over the Hammonds destruction, I got a fair amount of leeway with recruitment, but I cant handpick everybody on a thousand-man crew and Lieutenant al-Qahtani and Doctor Tretca declined to come with me. Ill miss them but Tretca got a teaching job at the Academy, offer she couldnt refuse and so forth, and Ruqayya is headed for Deep Space K-7 to be chief of security, so well probably see each other again soon enough.
Im waiting in the shuttlebay as the Bopp returns from Vulcan with my new CMO and security chief. The Type-8s door slides open and a shortish black man with a slightly pudgy face, a bushy mustache, and deep-set, beady eyes steps down the ramp. He stops in front of me and comes to attention. One black pip, one gold pip, a lieutenant junior grade. Gday, Capn. Doctor Warragul William Wirrpanda, M.D.
At ease. Im Kanril Eleya. If you dont mind my asking, that an Australian accent?
Well, Im from Sagara IV, maam. Fleaspeck colony in Delta Volanis. But were about fifty-fifty Australian and Japanese. Mums from Murray Bridge and Dads from Perth.
I hear a heavy tread on the ramp, look up, andwhoa. I have no idea what species this guy is, but hes huge, twice my width and easily a head taller, built like a Cardassian main battle tank I rode in once at boot camp. Scaly bronze skin, slit pupils, back-swept horns, talons, he seems tailor-made to be intimidating. And that is emphatically not a standard Starfleet uniform. He approaches, sets down the instrument case hes carrying, and sort of half-bows to me, pressing a forearm to his chest. Greetings, Eleya, Clan Kanril. I am Dulkrah, Clan Korekh.
Um. Well, that answers who you are. What are you?
He seems slightly confused. I am Clan Korekh. Blood-Clan Rustra? He says it as if it should be self-explanatory.
Hes a Pekhdar, Capn, the doctor explains. They dont really have a word for themselves as a race; theyre only loyal to their clans.
Then where do we get Pekhdar from?
That is what the Ferengi call us. In our tongue it means the last Clans. It suffices.
I guess thats simple enough, but clearly Ive got some research to do. Should I call you Dulkrah?
If you do, I will answer. I will also answer to Lieutenant Korekh, as it is the closest thing I have to what you would consider a surname.
And Id prefer to be called Warragul if youre one of those captains who likes to be on a first-name basis with your crew.
I generally do, with my command staff. Uh, this way. Tell me a little more about yourselves.
Warragul starts off. I was Class of 04 at the academy, did my residency at Starbase 324, then I was chief of surgery on the Alphecca.
This is your first time as CMO?
Yes, sir.
Maam, I automatically say for the umpteenth time this week.
Sorry.
I get that a lot, dont worry. But I was an NCO before I was an officer and Im uncomfortable being called sir; I dont care what Starfleet protocol says about it. Whats your specialty?
Trauma surgery, maam.
Thats good. Emergency medicine is probably the single most necessary specialty where were going. What about you, Dulkrah?
I am Ver Eshalakh. My peoples military police clan. I attended Starfleet Academy after we joined the Federation. My last post was chief of security on the USS Exeter.
My combadge chirps. Captain, Bynam. Could you join me on deck 11 please? Were about to test-fire the impulse engines.
All right, Ill be there in a minute. Can you two
Well find our way, Warragul assures me.
I reach the local control room for the saucer starboard engine and the slim, mutton-chopped Andorian waves me in. All right, Kerensky, fire it up!
A tanned human with lieutenants pips hammers a series of commands into his console and a Bajoran chief petty officer studies the readouts. Fuel transfer system online. Compressing deuterium. Fuel slugs transferring to reactor chamber. Ignition in five, four, three, two, one, mark!
Theres a low thrum and the floor begins to vibrate. Suddenly, I hear high-pitched squeal, fluctuating up and down. Bynam, is that supposed to happen?! I yell to be heard over the noise.
But the chaan is smiling, like my father used to when he was proud of my sister or me. We snipes call it the babys cry, Captain. Just means its a new engine. He walks over, checks an indicator, and lovingly strokes the bulkhead. Itll go away by the end of the shakedown cruise. All right, Kerensky, shut her down.
Then a Bolian E-2 in engineer yellow comes running in, pops an access panel and starts yelling at it. Then he stops, and then starts yelling again, louder. The third time, I finally bark, Crewman! Front and center! He stops, looks in my direction, and his eyes widen and he dashes over to me and comes smartly to attention. Who are you?
Maam! Crewman Apprentice Miqdoh Drohhl, maam!
And what the phekk were you just doing?
Echo check, maam!
Bynam splutters and he, Kerensky and the CPO burst out laughing. I let them go on like that for a few seconds before asking, Explanation, please?
Sorry, its a, ahem, prank, Captain. Somebody, erm, told him to check if the engine was working by yelling. Supposedly if you hit the right frequency it resonates, and he starts laughing again.
Drohhl, get back to work, I order, shaking my head in mild annoyance. I may run a loose ship, but this is ridiculous.
Oh, come on, Captain, Bynam says as we walk out. You never did anything like that when you were in the Militia?
No, but I once had Corporal Hoolud try to get me to, quote, blow the DCA. They had some trouble finding his front teeth after the next sparring session.
I run last checks but Im too jazzed to sleep that night. I finally bribe Warragul for a mild sedative so I can get five hours uninterrupted rack time before the big day dawns.
0700 ships time. I replicate an egg hasperat and a cappucino and wolf them down before pulling on my dress uniform and wasting ten minutes fighting the stupid necktie. I finally get to the bridge at 0740 and can relax.
The rest of the brass finally deign to show up. I greet Admiral Quinn at the bridge door, happy that the old Trill took some time off to make a personal appearance. Wouldnt miss it, Captain. He turns to Taurik. I take it your wife is out there to break the bottle?
Yes, and, Captain, she found your choice of Bajoran springwine somewhat illogical.
I roll my eyes. Its more logical than using French champagne, sir. Bajoran captain, Bajoran crew, ships named Bajoryou follow the progression here? Only reason they use Dom Perignon is because some admiral a hundred fifty years ago was blowing the CFO. Vice Admiral Harnett glares at me but a petty officer to my right starts giggling.
You know, you might set a new precedent where every captain picks his own native bottle of booze, Quinn comments.
Good! This is supposed to be the United Federation of Planets, as in multiple planets, not just Earth. I stand by my decision, Admirals.
0800, finally. The viewscreen shows vid from the Al-Birjandi as it takes one of the bottles of Indali Vineyards I brought from home in its tractor beam and hurls it towards the top of the saucer, aiming forward of the bridge. I hear Tauriks wife LDel over an audio channel: In the name of the United Federation of Planets, I christen thee USS Bajor.
The bottle shatters against the hull and the springwine flash-boils in the vacuum. The bridge erupts in applause. All right! I bark. Everyone to your stations! Sooner we get this shakedown run out of the way, sooner we can get back to our real jobs! Conn! Whos on conn?
I am, sir, a black-haired human with a thin mustache says.
Maam or Captain, I boredly correct him as I take a seat in The Chair. Whats your name?
Park, sir. Maam. JG Park Jin-Soo.
Fine, Park Jin-Soo. Lets get this show on the road. Begin launch sequence.
Conn aye. He pulls something on a chain out from under his shirt and kisses it, then stuffs it back down and reaches for the controls. Warp core and impulse power online. Detaching all umbilicals and docking clamps. Theres a thump through the hull beneath my feet, the transfer tunnel attached at the main shuttlebay separating. We are detached.
Port and starboard thrusters at station-keeping. Aft thrusters, ahead 20 KPH.
Side jets, station keeping. Ahead 20 klicks, he confirms. Theres a rumble through the hull as the replicator-fueled reaction rockets give the ship a kick, and slowly four-and-a-half million tons of starship and crew lurch forward out of the drydock.
Come to port, two-five-zero.
Conn, aye, port two-five-zero.
Impulse, ahead one-quarter.
Ahead one-quarter, aye.
As the ship floats clear of the shipyard, I ask Park, What was that? The thing you kissed a minute ago?
He turns in his chair and pulls a medallion out of his shirt. Saint Joseph of Cupertino, maam. Belonged to my mothershe flew the Venture for Pat Stanley during the Dominion War.
Youre a Catholic?
Among other things, maam. That a problem?
I snort. Im Bajoran, Park. I think weve got the market cornered on religious people in a secular society. Lets get to the flight test range.
Aye maam. Setting course.
We cruise out to the Oort Cloud with a short warp hop and are about to enter a particularly dense debris field when the communications officer, a Bajoran from Wyntara Mas Province, announces, Captain, Ive got a distress signal here. SS Azura, Bolarus IX registration, under attack by Orion pirates.
Greenskins. My face twists into a snarl as I turn in my chair to face Admiral Taurik. Tell me you got me those quantum torpedoes. He nods, then I see his eyes widen as recognition of what Im doing dawns.
Quinn voices it. Captain, youre not thinking
Youre damn right I am.
Were hardly the only ship in range.
Yeah, but Ive been alternately stressed out and bored out of my skull for five days straight, Admiral. Comms, tag us responding.
Kanril, are you crazy? Harnett cries.
Call it a live-fire exercise for all I care! I hit the intercom key. All hands! Battle stations! Bridge to Engineering, I need everything you can get me out of the warp drive.
All right, uh, I cant push it to redline until I know the ship better, but I can get you ten minutes at warp 9.98.
I look to Park. More than enough, maam.
Captain, Taurik pleads, you are not fueled for this.
Yeah, we are. I bribed your fueling manager with one of the cases of Klatha Reserve I brought aboard. His mouth opens to respond, then snaps shut. Park, lay in a course. Warp 9.98, engage!
As the Bajor whirls and streaks past the light barrier, Admiral Harnett complains, You are crazy. Thats going in my report to Starfleet Command.
Permission to speak frankly, sir?
Youve been doing that for some time.
Youre from Starfleet Science. Nobel Prize for Physics in 2392? Thirty peer-reviewed papers?
Thirty-two.
Congratulations. Have you ever fired your service weapon outside the range? He looks at me and I know the answer is no. Im not a scientist, Admiral, and Im not a diplomat, either. Im a soldier, plain and simple. You point me at a battlefield, I will give you a victory. This is what I do, Admiral. I look back to the plot. This is what I do.
At this speed its barely a five-minute flight and we emerge in a debris field on the very fringes of the 40 Eridani C system, asteroids and dust that never formed a planet. Three red dots appear on the plot, flagged as enemy vessels C1 through C3. The Azuras disabled, Captain, Tess notes.
Comms, open a channel.
Channel open.
Orion vessels, this is Captain Kanril Eleya of the Federation Starship Bajor. You are ordered to release control of your helm. Heave to and prepare to be boarded.
The response comes back, Get f*cked, Starfleet!
Yeah, youve got that backwards. Master Chief Wiggin, wasnt it? The gaunt, brown-haired human at the sensor console nods. Map their hulls.
I can imagine the reaction of the Orion boss. What I just did is the starship equivalent of a whack to the back of the head, painting them with our active targeting sensors at full power.
Unfortunately it doesnt have the effect I wanted. They turn and burn, heading straight for us. Theyre on an attack vector, Captain!
I press a palm to my face. Idiots. Shields up! Tess, your turn. Straight at em, Mister Park.
Conn, aye.
Admirals, hang onto something.
I have a lock!
Fire at will, Tess.
Firing! Half a dozen streams of searing light erupt from the upper and lower saucer phaser strips, lancing out at the oncoming corvettes. Three slam into the leaders bow and the board shows an overload in their forward shields; two of the other shots split between the trailing corvettes and the last misses.
Torpedoes! I bark. Full spread! The forward tube goes into rapid fire and blue-glowing projectiles scream from above the deflector dish across the rapidly closing void between us. A searing white flash erupts and is just as quickly gone; contact C2 vanishes from the plot. Comms. The communications officer waves me on. This is the USS Bajor. I say again, surrender now. Theres no way out of this. The response proves difficult for the universal translator to handle but theres something about my mother. Yeah, that was the wrong answer.
Sickly green disruptor fire skitters across our forward shields. Tess fires the ventral strip again and hits C1 amidships as it streaks beneath us; theres a secondary explosion and the ship begins trailing smoke and debris. Conn! Hard about! Biri! Tractor beam! Do not let them get mobile!
The view on the screen starts to whirl past vertically as Park flips the ship end-for-end, and Biri snares the two corvettes with the primary tractor. But theyre spread too far apart: they slow some but theyre still escaping. Tess! Target their engines!
Their chase batteries fire, but ours is far deadlier. Searing lances of nadions reach out and crash into the rear shields of both ships. The stern arcs quickly collapse and our fire leaves the engines in flames.
USS Bajor! Hold your fire! Hold your fire!
That a surrender I hear?
We surrender!
I hit the intercom key. Dulkrah! I want two security teams and two prize crews assembled. Sealable suits, theyre dealing with Orions. And Warragul, get a medical team ready to head over to the Azura. All hands, secure ship from battle stations, but remain at yellow alert. I release the key, stand, and walk forward into the open area between the conn and ops stations, resting my hand on TVars console. I stroke the arch overhead and whisper, Thats my girl. Thats my good girl.
----
Authors Notes: As I implied in the story, thats is supposed to be the same Taurik as appeared in TNG: Lower Decks.
Joseph of Cupertino is a real Catholic saint, the patron of air travelers, pilots, and astronauts. He was apparently known for levitating while praying. Tailor-made to be the patron saint of Starfleet in my opinion.
I borrowed the bit about the babys cry from The Black Fleet Crisis, one of the earlier Star Wars EU novel series. Its a bit of a mixed bag in quality: Lukes plot is stupid and pointless and Landos is just weird, but Leias, Hans, and Chewies is quite enjoyable if you like geopolitical/military thrillers. Its an awful lot like a Tom Clancy novel back when it was actually Clancy writing them. The snipe hunts mentioned in the same scene were borrowed from real life. I got told about a bunch of them by my dad, a former Navy engineering officer. I think my favorite was sending a noob in a shipyard for fifty feet of waterline. (A line is a rope in seaman parlance, but a waterline is where the water comes up to on the side of the ship.)
— Sabaton, "Great War"
Check out https://unitedfederationofpla.net/s/
"Good morning, sunshine," the holographic attendant for his quarters, Jaya, phased on at the end of his bed, with a smile.
Menrow jumped at her, "Aah!" And then he remembered, "Oh, right. You're the personal assistant that appears in all the quarters. Must you keep appearing like that?"
"It is the nature of my program, Menrow," she answered. "The same program you TRIBBLE to harvest station-encryption algorhythms of which the absence of are decompiling me as we speak."
Menrow watched as she disappeared. "Well, that was unexpected."
---
Inside the space station's Bajoran Shrine was a dead Orb of Summons, encased within a spherical see-through glass-like container. The shrine had been falsely scheduled to close for maintenance, thanks to Menrow's team.
"How are things looking? Are all the sensors offline?" Menrow spoke.
A female voice, Sen Hatcha, responded over secure comms, "Everyone's in place. Security has been blocked."
"Wait. Hatcha? What's going on here?" he asked entering the shrine. He only had ten seconds to complete his task, but something about her voice triggered a dream-like memory within him.
She answered, "Uh, what? Youre off-pace question is confusing me, Menrow. Stealing is what's going on. That's what we do. You wrote it on your hand, remember?"
"Sorry. I'm having an existential moment. But I'm sure such a momentary interlude will have no consequences," Menrow commented, as he approached the Orb. But his hesitation cost him the time he needed, then--
A robotic *Click! Click! Chirp!* called out to him from behind, coming from a large, hand-sized, robot spider named Zeta, sitting on the Chief of Security's shoulder.
"A little early for a felony, isn't it?" Starfleet officer, Lieutenant Commander Sith said with crossed arms.
Knocked back into reality, Menrow quickly slapped a transporter tag onto the Orb, causing it to be dematerialized. Zeta lept out at Menrow, grabbing onto his face: Struggling for balance, Menrow pried the spider off his face and threw it back at Sith, "Ugh! It's never too early to break social order!"
Sith caught Zeta, which was enough of a distraction for Menrow to attack.
The two exchanged punch after block after redirect before Sith used his free hand to force-palm Menrow in the head and knock him out.
"Dammit. And the Orb was just one week away from retirement."
---
Later, Menrow's team was seated in the observation lounge on the space station. They were placed around the big table, joined by some of the senior staff. Outside the large windows sat the big, blue Earth.
"Don't feel bad," Captain Halliwell opened, "We learned about your operation by accident when we captured an Alliance infiltrator on a civilian freighter last month. He thought selling something called 'ice cream' to passengers would make him less suspicious."
Menrow glanced at her, "So, you knew about our cover-jobs at the station's bar, the Double~Helix, huh? I guess you can tell your Bolian bartender, Ottel, that I will be late for work today." He then eyed his own people in confusion, "Wait. Even that sounds offsetting? Something's not right here? Are we on Earth Spacedock?"
"No one's called it that for a very long time," Fleet Admiral Garrison said, "It's Starbase 001, and it's you who will be giving us answers-- like where is the Orb? And why arent you telling us where the Orb is?"
Hatcha interjected, "This is ridiculous. We're not working for the Alliance! That is-- What's the Alliance again? Great. Now I'm suffering from Menrow-nia."
"The Alliance is the large intergalactic sovereignty that is fighting us, what's left of the Federation, the us they claim to be corrupt," Doctor Ulli answered. "They're also who your contact, Kebb, is working for, whether you knew that or not."
Another one of Menrow's people, Grunley, spoke, "We're just kindly thieves who steal for a living. We have nothing against the Federation," then admitting a sudden, newly found naiveté, "Side-question: What century is this?"
"It's the 28th century!" Garrison answered, frustrated. "Why can't any of you stay on topic here?? This is worse than necro threads on message boards."
Suddenly, a tall, pale man, entered the secured room, wearing grey robes, "My apologies, everyone. I can explain it all. My name is Wayfar and I am a Traveler. This group, here, is not from this era, but rather, several hundred years earlier; and they are not thieves, but rather, a Starfleet crew of the Intrepid-class Starship Crucial."
"Those ships were retired in shame after the Janeway Trials!" Ulli exclaimed in shock.
Menrow looked to the side, "The last thing I remember is being at Starbase 78 when we were attacked by Hirogen."
"You died from those attacks," Hatcha said, remembering. "Your body was recovered, and I took over the Crucial. For a second, we felt like Klingons, and it was......... glorious."
Wayfar nodded, "I happened to be on the medical team working to save Menrow, and when all else failed, I attempted to revive him via Traveler means. All of you were visiting him that day and came upon my sneaky efforts by chance. When you tried to stop me, your interruption sent all of you into the future-- Classic sitcom set up, by the way."
"But I remember so much about my life here?" Grunley said, unsure. "Even that whole year I was a botanist for no reason: Soooo many plants."
The Traveler turned, "Unfortunately, my work is more than mere time differential, but, in this case, life duplication. I must apologize; I'm new. I just got my Traveler's license, like, two weeks ago."
"So that's it? You're going to take these people back?" Garrison interrupted. "We have an Alliance plot to destroy the Earth. The Orbs may be dead by our century, but their material is just now being sought after as a highly destructive weapon, undetectable by sensors of any kind."
Hatcha nodded, "Well, at least we'll know when the Earth dies-- and it's not in our era, so we can at least enjoy the comfort of that. Beach party, anyone?"
"No, Garrison's right," Menrow conceded. "We've been living the worst kind of life here; as criminals. I felt something was off and never did anything about it. This is our chance to set things right. It's convenient, I'll admit, but I'll take what I can get."
---
Later, Menrow met with two engineers, Tanik and Clark, in the Transporter Center.
"Are you sure there's a cloaked vessel at these coordinates?" Tanik asked. "Seems like we're just going to beam you into cold space--- Not that, as bad guys, you wouldn't have our sympathies about. We're still enlightened is what I'm saying."
Clark perked up, "Also, how do we even know we can trust you? For all we know, you're just going to expedite Earth's end, like that one century with the polar ice caps."
"Because, not only am I doing this for my home planet, but I'm also doing this for my personal issues," Menrow explained as he stepped onto one of the pads. "I'm not saying they're equal, but I'm not not saying that too."
Annoyed by that logic, Tanik rolled his eyes and just went ahead with the transport.
---
Menrow rematerialized inside a darkly lit cloaked Romulan shuttle. There, Kebb was working on the Orb of Summons, under an isomolecular resonance spectrometer.
"Dude, why is it so dark in here?" Menrow spoke as way of introduction.
Kebb glanced up from his work, "Uh, we're cloaked. How else would you know? Also, your words are weird. You talk weird."
"You can't judge me, the same you who has been working with the enemy all along!" Menrow pointed in accusation.
Kebb went back to work, "Oh, please. Like you care? You're in it for the money and money alone; and you can't tell me you don't get a cheap thrill from it-- In much the same way a young adult may knock on some old man's household door and then run like hell."
"Perhaps in the short term-- the women, the parties and riches-- but in the long term, it's meaningless. Let's better ourselves; let's live better."
The Takaran finished setting up the changes to the Orb and then offered the money chip to Menrow, "What the hell?? I'm seconds away from committing genocide. You are such a mood killer! Just take your money and go-- Oh, you might want to evacuate the Solar system, by the way."
But instead, Menrow knocked the chip to the ground. He then turned his back to Kebb, revealing Zeta having been clung there the whole time. *Click? Chirp!*
Zeta then leapt off Menrow and tackled Kebb to the ground, "Aahhhggh!! My precious face!!?? I needed that for proving to others my alternative lifestyle as having valuuueggghhhh!??"
---
After saving Earth in the 28th century, and returning the Orb, Wayfar performed an awkward everyone-hold-hands-in-a-circle like-séance which was successful in sending everyone back in time to the 25th century. The crew found themselves on the Bridge of the Intrepid-class U.S.S. Crucial.
"Wait, what?" Menrow checked his chair chronometer, "We've been returned many years after my accident!"
Grunley raised his hand, "Is Bacco still president?"
"I think it's a bottle of Saurian Brandy now," Hatcha replied, checking a nearby computer too quickly, "Sorry; just a Saurian; no brandy."
Wayfar entered through the turbolifts, "Man, I had to take two Orion transports to get here. It was, like, six weeks of traveling for me. This Bolian passenger wouldn't stop about his Picard obsession."
"Well, it's obvious why you didn't space-time travel; we're years behind schedule," Menrow implicated.
The Traveler held up his hand, "Like before, I really have to apologize. You did in fact return several days after your disappearance-- unfortunately, the reality time-differential placement offset just integrated this plain of your consciousness back into this point in your personal histories. You see, the offset was off to begin with, part-why your memory delayed in the future, and, as I said, I literally just got my license, which is surprisingly well laminated--"
"Dammit, Wayfar!" Menrow cursed. "I must've slept with, like, fifteen different aliens by now, and I can't even remember them."
The Tau Alpha C native handed over a padd, "You'll find all your past experiences in your logs. And don't worry about the consciousness's you've just overwritten; they're dead now."
"Ugggh," Menrow started, annoyed. He then took a breath, "No, you were only trying to help. The fact of the matter is I owe you my thanks, for saving me and for providing us with a look at another life had we been born into a century our current level of brain development was not evolved enough for." He hesitantly shook Wayfar's hand, "Would you be interested.... in dinner with the crew or something?"
Shocked, Wayfar replied, "Of course I would! This is great. You set a date. I'm going to time-travel straight to it by sensing for it alone."
In a second, he disappeared in a flutter of horizontal phasing-bands.
"Hatcha, you'll remember to set a date, right?" Menrow asked.
Preoccupied and looking around at all the workstations for her spot, she nodded absentmindedly, "Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah. Sure."
---
Meanwhile, Wayfar found himself unexpectedly transported to the white nothingness the Q were known to occupy during off hours, "Damn! I really over-shot that." He looked around.
"Yeah, you did," said Qu, who just happened to be standing nearby. "Want to draw smiley faces in a cloud of Calamarain?"
Wayfar nodded, "I'd like that."
The two women were sitting quietly before the closed double doors, one twiddling her thumbs and the other at bored rest, sipping from a thermos of tea.
Suddenly there was an explosion of shouts and insults in High Rihan on the other side of the door, which slammed open abruptly. Four Rihannsu in formal robes stormed out with their TalDiann bodyguards close on their heels, followed closely by Velal trHrienteh, Fvillhu of the Shiar ihSaeihr Rihan, and two armored Khhiudraao sShiar commandos. They vanished around the corners at opposite ends of the hall and doors slammed shut moments later.
Then the door opened again and a tanned Terrhaha in Lloannengalae dress whites, ops colors, stepped out of the conference room muttering something that the women on the bench couldnt make out. Commander Khoroushi, said one of the women, taller, with long obsidian hair turning silver at the temples. What happened?
Well, apparently we said hello, insulted each other, and broke for recess.
The other woman, a wiry brunette with cropped brown hair, snorted at that. Cant say its unexpected, she said. Imperials always have had issues with putting people in good places. What are they upset about, colony worlds in Psi Velorum?
Admiral, warned a dark-skinned Letheha lurking to the womans left. Calm. Remember what we discussed?
Yes, groused the Admiral. I remember. Peace treaty. Could end the stupid fighting thats STILL interfering with shipping near the Imperial border. Very important to Dtan. Dont mess it up. Im not messing it up, it sounds like those chattermouths are doing a good job of it already.
It would be wise to allow the Human to finish, rumbled a massive JemHadar, standing like a grey-scaled mountain behind the brunette. For doth not the Thirteenth Word of OdoItal state that Information is key to any endeavour?
Thank you, Omektikallan, but I was finished, Jaleh Khoroushi said, absentmindedly tugging at her collar. Honestly, I wouldve expected Praetor Velal to be more accommodating. I mean, this was his idea.
Maybe its the negotiators, suggested the Letheha. Put High Admiral Dtrel in a room with your usual babbling diplomats and shell lose her patience faster than a night-talon loses its prey in the daylight.
You mean like that Bahjorha at KhreRiov Tuvoks conference in January?
The one that made people actually forget about what Quinns psychotic dog said about the Proconsul? asked the brunette. Yeah. That makes sense. KhreRiov Morgaiah, none of those diplomats have any military experience. I served under Velal during the Dominion Wardistant command, as in our ship was the cannon fodder of the task forceand he always seemed like a good soldier to me
I agree, said the taller woman. I will speak with Dtan and Deihu tHei. We may have better luck if we negotiate personally.
Good idea. Daysnur, Omek, youre my aides, Im an ambassador for the day. Well do it like we did the meeting with Obisek. Plus weve got Morgaiah as backup in case I TRIBBLE upher record is second to none. How the Ariennye did I get into this, anyway? Im a soldier, not a diplomat!
***
Five days earlier
RahaenEnriov Dtrel irAehallah trRihannsu, fresh from a promotion ceremony and a lengthy psychotherapy session, strode briskly through the corridors of Raenasa, Daysnur and First Omektikallan keeping pace behind her.
The petite, wiry woman wore her usual tight expression, the lines on her middle-aged face forming a slight frown. She felt the light itch in her brain that was Daysnur monitoring her to ensure that her new, lower dose of medication was working properly.
Dtrel approached Proconsul Dtans massive office doorsfinely carved Terrhain mahogany, considerably fancier than the adapted warbird interior the top officials had been usingand knocked sharply.
Enter!
Proconsul, said Dtrel with a crisp salute as she entered. My apologies for being late, I was taking the Kholhr on a quick test drive to ensure that the modified frame really can take the new armaments. What is the situation?
Peace, said Dtan grandly. Peace with the Shiar ihSaeihr Rihan at last!
Ill believe that when I see it, scoffed Dtrel, taking a seat as Daysnur lurked behind her left shoulder, Omek looming to her right. Ah, KhreRiov Morgaiah irSheratan, she said, seeing the other woman already seated. I am honored to meet you at last. May I introduce First Omektikallan, my first officer, and Enarrain Daysnur, KDF exchange officer, my therapist and associate chief engineer.
Jolantru, Morgan t'Thavrau greeted her. She gestured to the two figures behind her, one a stocky, ruddy-skinned man with a scar under his eye, the other a Terrhaha woman in Lloannen'galae service blacks. "Riov Sarsachen iAmriel, my ihhwisaehne, and Lieutenant Commander Jaleh Khoroushi, my Starfleet liaison."
Not for this mission, rekkhai, the commander said, shaking her head. Can I offer you some tea, Enriov? Or something stronger? she asked D'trel, pouring a measure of ale for herself.
I thought you were a Muslim, Enarrain Khoroushi, said the Proconsul.
I am, but I gave up trying to keep halāl on deployment years ago, lhhai.
Well, thank you for the offer, Dtrel answered. Id like some
Tea, said Daysnur firmly. Dtrel swiveled and glared at him, but he didnt so much as flinch. Sir, you know my policy on new medication regimens. I need a good clear reading on how youre handling the lower dose.
Fine, grunted the brunette. If youve got tea, thatd be great. Just plain tea, nothing added. If anyone needs something to eat, I can call Zel for some jumbo mollusks. So. Whats the plan?
KhreEnriov Klau trKererek spoke up now, passing out PDAs to the women. Fvillhu Velal has contacted us with a request to meet for negotiations. He says that he wishes to end the ongoing war and recognize Krehdhhokh molRihan as an independent nation. Proconsul Dtan values this potential for peace very highly, and so we are sending our two best commanders with their ships as escorts for our delegation.
Latest intelligence from our undercovers says that Velals managed to restore something resembling order in the Shiar core worlds, Sarsachen added. However, a number of planets, including my homeworld Kevratas, declared independence in protest after we broke the news about Hobus last year, and the TalShiar have completely gone off the reservation. Source CARDINAL even reports a skirmish in the Abraxas system between TalShiar vessels and the regular Galae sShiar Rihan under KhreEnriov tShelyarin.
Dtrel leaned forwards intently at that. Really, now? Given what we saw in Hakeevs facilities and in Hveid-kustais, I cant say that Im surprised.
Honestly Im more surprised it took this long, Morgan remarked in a dry tone. When I was in the Galae they were the enemy almost as much as the Khelloannmnhehorael or the Lloannengalae.
We had a commissar with them on the Ravon once, reminisced Dtrel as Khoroushi handed her a mug of tea. The Riov airlocked him and took his gear, sent fake reports. It mustve fooled someone, and I dont think we were seen as important enough to target.
Dtan started at that, but Morgan hid an amused grin behind a mug of tea and trKererek nodded in approval. Sounds like an efficient man. Now, as you can see in your briefing materials, this meeting will be taking place at Khitomer. I had to pull in a favor with Councilman Kriton, but the Kllinghannsu are willing to host the negotiations. The other option was having the Federation host the negotiations on Turkana IVDaysnur jerked in surprise and Khoroushi said something rude about Ambassador Sugihara in Farsiso were going with the Kllinghannsu.
Ill need two Mogai-class and a Dridthau-class with six Dhelan-class escorts to secure the perimeter, said Dtrel, looking over the materials. Get me Neirrh, Hatham, Flaihhsam schRihan, and whatever escorts you can sling together. My ship hits like a boosted Ghorrnha, but it doesnt have the durability to face off a large fleet in the event this goes south. Morgaiah, you concur?
Yes, said Morgan with a nod. I would suggest the Eyiv sRea and the Temer as well, KhreEnriov. Aenrhien will coordinate the escorts. Kholhr can use the battleship and cruisers to flank, should such be necessary.
Sounds good to me. The Kllinghannsu will probably have a fleet on standby just in case, too.
Velal also requested a neutral moderator be present, preferably from the Federation, Khoroushi added. State Department decided to have me do that, since Ill already be there. However, that means Im going to have to be impartial during the talks. And the other sides going to expect me to favor the Khredhhokh MolRihan given my usual job, so I may need to come down harder on your people than I would otherwise. Can you live with that, rekkhai? Morgan nodded reluctantly.
Dtan leaned forward with a rustle of robes. Before you leave, I cannot stress strongly enough how much we need this peace. Our border war with the Empire has become a battle of attrition, and thanks to the TalShiar and Tholinsu we still need outside help keeping our homeworld secure. We have been taking a greater role in galactic affairs recently, but KhreEnriov trKererek has assured me that we cannot maintain the current pace with so many conflicts ongoing. This is not just a peace deal on one front; this is an investment in the security of our nation. Go with my prayers, and be successful for chMolRihan.
The two commanders stood. Bedah, Ehkifv Temjahaere DTan, Morgan said in High Rihan, bowing formally. She executed a proper military turn and left the office with her officers trailing behind.
Jolantru, Ehkifv, said Dtrel brusquely. First, Enarrain, with me. She left at a brisk walk, the hulking JemHadar and dark-scaled Lethean following.
***
This will not end well, said Dtrel, striding into her ready room and slamming the PDA on her desk. She stuck her head back out the door and yelled to her Breen helmsman. Hey, Zel! Get us moving, pick up the fancy-pants diplomats if tThavrau hasnt already done it, and point us towards Khitomer!
Admiral, isnt this what you wanted? asked Daysnur. Peace? Better shot at Unification?
Yeah! said Mintakallan from the open door, his tail flicking excitedly. We could bring them in on our side against the filthy, fangless qameH quv!
Science Bekk Mintakallan, it would be wise to exercise some caution in this enterprise, said First Omektikallan. For doth not the Twenty-Ninth Word of OdoItal say The enemy of my enemy is my enemys enemyno more, no less.?
I dont cut deals with my enemies, Daysnur, said Dtrel as the young Ferasan nodded thoughtfully. I trust the Shiar ihSaeihr Rihan about as far as I can throw it, and while Morgaiah tThavrau is one of our top battlecruiser commanders, weve got a team from the civil corps as our negotiators, and you and I both know that they can flub a simple gift exchange. No, this is not going to end well. You know our luck: even if Velals serious, SOMEthing will inevitably happen to TRIBBLE things up.
Admiral. Fatalism. Remember what we talked about?
Yeah, yeah, grumbled Dtrel. Got to look on the bright side. Well, on the bright side, there is in fact a non-zero chance that this mission will not fail.
I recommend giving this mission your all, Admiral, rumbled Omektikallan. For doth not the Seventeenth Word of OdoItal say You cant know that you cant do something until youve given it your very best effort.?
Point, that, remarked Dtrel. Right. Daysnur, head back to your man, and Omek, take the bridge. I need to think.
She motioned for them to leave. Omek did so, pulling the Ferasan with him. Daysnur lingered at the door for a moment, opened his mouth, paused, shook his head, and left.
The door shut, leaving Dtrel to sit in her chair and stare silently at the wall.
***
Morgan linked her wrist communicator into the Aenrhiens intercom as she, two deihuir, and their aides and staff materialized on the transporter pad. All hands, all hands! Prepare to get underway! Set course for the Khitomer system! Senior staff briefing, ten minutes! She turned to Deihu Hannam tHei, and in a deferential tone told her, Llhei, I will show you to our VIP quarters. This way.
How long will it take to reach Khitomer, KhreRiov?
Four days, five hours, as the mogai flies.
The deihu was singularly unimpressed with the accommodations. Is there nothing bigger?
Deihu khlinaeeri, this is a combat starship, not a luxury liner. Even my own quarters are far smaller than this, and the enlisted bunk in shifts.
The other woman shuddered and said, I suppose it will have to do.
Bedah, Deihuir tHei and trAAnikh. Morgan bowed and left them to do whatever it was that deihuir did. Civilians, she muttered to herself as she stalked towards the turbolift to the command deck, nameless crew standing aside for her.
In the wardroom all seven members of Morgans command staff sat waiting. They came to their feet as she came into the room. As you were. She poured a glass of ale and sat. You all know the basics, but let us set some ground rules. Item the first, nobody on this crew is to pick a fight with any Shiar personnel. I dont care if they say your mother was a fvai and your father smelled of eigen berries, you will not throw the first punch. That goes for you especially, Veril. The slim Havranha grunted something belligerent and Morgan took an apologetic tone. Im singling you out because theyll single you out. You are Havran, and I dont need to remind you what that means. But the ekhiv temjahaere informs me that getting an armistice is critical to our national security, and that means our conduct is critical to our national security. If somebody f*cks this up, this warbird will not be responsible.
Next, a personal warning for you, Arrain tKhnialmnae. The small, dark auburn-haired woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Do not ever mention your prior affiliations in RahaenEnriov Dtrels hearing.
I was a gunnery officer!
You were TalShiar.
I never
I know. But Dtrel does not, and if she finds out, you may not have time to explain.
Sahuel tKhnialmnae stood and faced the wall. Presently she quietly said, I believed I was doing what was right for our people. Keeping order.
You were on a ship that was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of refugees, Emira tVraehn said. This ship!
Doctor! Morgan cried warningly.
That was an accident! By now the redheads eyes glistened with tears. And I wasnt even on duty!
Its not about you personally, Sahuel, Jaleh told her. Dtrels lover, among many others she knew, was tortured to death by Colonel Hakeevs secret police unit. She wont see the difference between you and him.
All we can do is hope that your defection with the Aenrhien and our subsequent actions will be enough to cleanse the stain on its name, Sarsachen added.
Morgan stood and placed a hand on her tactical officers shoulder. I have forgiven you, Sahuel iTlhira. If that is not enough, then help me win peace for our people.
Im with you, as always, KhreRiov.
Good. She turned back to the table. Back to business. TrKhev, your intelligence assessment?
Velals desperate, or else he wouldnt have approached us. According to my contacts and our official sources, he managed to get the Deihuit and the core worlds to back him after rhRhiyrh Sela disappeared at Brea, but hes short of everything but hot air. He needs peace at least as much as we do.
What about Velal personally? Anything we can use?
My father was an aide-de-camp for him during the Dominion War. Hes a pragmatist, doesnt waste people if he can help it. But hes also a patriot.
Morgan let out a breath. That could be a problem. All right, keep your ear to the ground and coordinate with the Klivam security forces. You find anything you think I should know, tell me immediately, night or day.
Ie, rekkhai.
Braeg, Im going to need you to act as my aide. You were in the Galae ihShiar more recently than I was. You may pick things up that I dont.
Ie, KhreRiov, her science chief agreed.
Any questions? No? Then man your stations. And may the Elements be with us.
Four Rihannsu, one Havranha, and one Lloannengalae officer stood and made their way out of the room, but the battle-scarred ihhwisaenhe stayed behind. Ive never seen you in quite this mood before, rekkhai, Sarsachen trSauringar commented. Not since EreiRiov trSevron died. Youre actually smiling.
Peace, Sarsachen. If this works out, I am one step closer to my quiet vineyard on Virinat.
And if it doesnt?
Her smile faded and she gave him a hard look. Then we do our duty, and hope the Elements grant us better fortune tomorrow.
***
Incoming vessels, identify yourselves and state your business, the voice on the communicator stated.
Khitomer Control, the communications officer answered in Federation Standard, this is Imperial Warbird Lost Road, and escorts. You do not have clearance for our business.
I say again, IRW Lost Road, state your business or the orbital defense grid will fire on your ship, romuluSngan.
A lean, muscled Rihanha in formal robes sitting at the back of the bridge said, Khitomer Control, this is Praetor Velal trHrienteh of the Rihannsu Star Empire. If you wish, you may contact Governor Leskits office for the information for which you are cleared, but rest assured our mission here is peaceful.
Why should we believe you?
If our intent was otherwise, we would not be having this discussion and a third of this planets population would already be dead, Klivam.
There was a pause. Are you threatening me, petaQ?
No, I am stating a simple fact. It is also a fact that our presence here was approved by the High Council, which you would know by now, had you bothered to check with the governor. Now stop wasting my time and direct us to a parking orbit before I contact him for you and inform him of your rudeness and abject incompetence.
Fvillhu! the sensor officer suddenly interjected. I have a Dderidex-class warbird decloaking one light-minute out! Galae sKrehdhhokh MolRihan!
Then another voice, female, a melodic mezzo, broke in. Khitomer Control, this is Subadmiral Morgaiah tThavrau, Republic Warbird Bloodwing. The praetor and his men are to be accorded the respect due their stations as foreign ambassadors. Clear them for orbit now, or I will take this up with Councilor Bawov of the House of Cheltok at the next opportunity. Is that clear?
Velal waited. Finally, Perfectly, Subadmiral. IRW Lost Road, transmitting orbital insertion vector to your helm.
Thank you, Velals flag captain said. Lost Road out.
Arrain, Velal addressed the communications officer, hail the khreriov, please.
Daie, Fvillhu.
A black-haired, somewhat weathered-looking woman in a Dderidex-class warbirds command chair appeared on the screen. Fvillhu Velal.
Khnai, he cautiously thanked her. You know, I had a warbird named Aenrhien under my command at chCardhass. Rescued a third of my crew from space after the JemHadar destroyed the Dridthau.
Same warbird, llhai, though not the same leih. Happy to help. I may see you dirtside.
***
Eighteen hours later
Fvillhu Velal, Dominion War veteran and respected leader of the Shiar ihSaeihr Rihan, entered the conference room with a rustle of his crisp uniform and the clanking of his bodyguards armor.
Greetings. I was informed of the change in negotiators; I hope that you will not mince words with me as the others did.
We dont plan to, said Dtrel. I am RahaenEnriov Dtrel irAehallah trRihannsu, and this is KhreRiov Morgaiah irSheratan tThavrau. Now. What do you want from this deal? She forced the last sentence through a lemon-sucking grimace.
Shaoi kon, Fvillhu Velal iRatleihfi, said Morgan with a respectful nod.
Shaoi ben, KhreRiov, said Velal, returning the gesture. Good to meet you in person. Before we begin, let me make one thing clear. While the actions of the former Fvillhu Taris and Riov Hakeev were unforgivable, I still personally consider all involved with your movement to be traitors to the Rihan people. But the simple fact is, my government no longer has the resources or political will to do anything about that so continuing our war is foolish and impractical. I have ordered the Galae to cease offensive actions against your forces for the remainder of this summit, but understand they will return fire if attacked.
Responsible, said Dtrel with a vicious half-smile. I like that. But you dare call us traitors to the Rihanh when your precious Shiar is a nation of empty words and broken promises? Theres a reason I became a Unificationist, you know.
Omektikallan gently but firmly laid a massive hand on Dtrels shoulder. Morgan focused her considerable willpower on not slapping her face.
Empty words? snarled Velal. Broken promises? You DARE insult my mnheisahe? What do you know of our Shiar ihSaeihr Rihan, Thaessu-loving traitor?
Fvillhu, began Morgan, but Dtrels temper had already gotten the better of her.
Fvadt you, Velal! I thought you were a decent man! I served under you in the Dominion War, damn it!
You? scoffed Velal. What ship? I suppose youll claim you were on the Aenrhien and personally won the Battle of chCardhass?
RahaenEnriov tried Jaleh, but Dtrel was on a roll.
The Ravon. Tliss-class. We were the cannon fodder of the fleet, and you somehow didnt lose all of us, unlike the other fools with thousand-ship fleets. And here you are calling me a traitor for trying to save us from ourselves.
What are you babbling about? snarled Velal. You act like the Empire is broken, unredeemable! But I myself know
YOU KNOW NOTHING! shouted Dtrel, slamming her palm down on the table hard enough to crack it. You have no idea what it was like in the system! Being given a random name, thrown in with every other rejected infant, being bullied as long as you can remember for having a pretentious name because some lazy clerk was writing a novel in their spare time and accidentally named a dozen children names like The and And, and gave others honorific prefixes by mistake; being unwanted for three decades, rejected and cast out by the parents you so desperately wanted, the older children who scorned you, the younger ones who feared you, finally finding someone who wanted you just for being you and having her ripped away by a monster in a mans skin you know nothing. I learned things in the system, Velal. I learned what a pile of hlai dung the Shiar always was, and I learned who I am. I protect those who cannot protect themselves. I punish those who violate the innocent, no matter the cost to myself. I protect even those whom I hate, so long as it is right. Youll never understand it. You have to live it to understand.
Admiral, rumbled Omektikallan, squeezing the Rihanhas shoulder. Please stop.
Dtrel took a couple of deep breaths, tears running down her face. Velal was staring, momentarily stunned by her outburst.
My apologies, said the brunette Rihanha. That was rude of me. I should have had better control.
Lanat bar sheytun, Jaleh grumbled. Everyone, take five. Well reconvene in an hour.
***
Velal was studying an intelligence brief when he heard a knock on his door. Llhai, EreiRiov tNennian, one of his bodyguards, said through the door, KhreRiov tThavrau is here to see you.
Odd. Well, send her in.
The door opened and Morgan stepped inside with a bottle of ale and two glasses. Jolantru. I brought a peace offering of sorts.
Your companion is quite the spitfire, KhreRiov, the fvillhu remarked as she poured a generous dollop of aquamarine liquid into the glass.
She has reason to be. The Elements seem to consider her their personal plaything.
Velal sat back down and held his glass of ale up to the light, checking the clarity and color. Definitely not replicated. He took an experimental sip and let it trail fire down his throat. Flavorful, malty and not overly harsh. Elements, but that is a fine brew.
Thank you.
Something about her tone made him look at the womans weatherbeaten face. Yours?
She nodded. I have a small sideline as a brewer. Had a vineyard on Virinat as well, before the attack. She took a pull from her own glass.
Youre not as hostile as Dtrel.
I saw a better side of the Shiar growing up. Mother was a civil servant, an aide at the Deihuit. We split our time between Ki Baratan and the family estate on Sheratan VII.
Your father?
Mother never said. I suspect she was sparing a deihus mnheisahe. She placed her empty glass on the table. I didnt go through what Dtrel did. I was too young to serve during the Dominion WarIm younger than I look, llhai, too many years of farm workbut I did serve after that, during the Havran uprising and the Civil War.
Then why
Why the Krehdhhokh MolRihan? Because the TalShiar took it all. Everything I had, everything Id worked for, thrice. They destroyed my career twenty years ago, then they destroyed the life I built in exile, and then we learned last year that they had destroyed my family among the dead of Hobus. And the Shiar wasnt helping anymore. It was all built on lies and politics and it bickered and postured while our people starved and died of bloodfire. DTan is a naive idealist and I dont agree with his politics, or Dtrels, but hes trying. It gives me a reason to believe in something again. A future where I can lay aside my weapons at last. She looked him in the eye. I will die for that.
I believe you. And under other circumstances I think we could have been friends.
For now Ill settle for not being enemies, Fvillhu. Shall we try this again?
***
Twenty-two light-years away, EreiRiov Alhari tIhaimehn, tactical officer of the chR Maens, was sitting in her chair enjoying a cup of tea and the silence of ship-night. So far the patrol on the southern fringe of the Shiar ihSaeihr Rihan had been quiet. No distress calls, no unexpected anomalies. For once even the retrofitted replicators on the old Ddhael Aishanh-class warbird were behaving themselves.
Rekkhai, I have an odd signal here, the sensor officer said.
Fvadt, she swore. I knew it was too good to be true.
Rekkhai?
Never you mind, tIhaimehn told him, making her way through the cramped space to his console. Show me.
It was a tachyon burst, superluminal matter being dragged below c and consequently self-annihilating. TIhaimehn swore again. Better wake the leih.
That could mean any number of things, rekkhai. Ow! The amnhheisaehne smacked him across the back of the head with her hand.
Yes, any number of things, and most of the list consists of things I would not wish to face without Riov tKhellian on the bridge.
Look, there goes another one. He paused, then his puzzled expression changed to one of fear. Elements. Rekkhai, sound red alert, now! Beginning gravimetric scan!
TIhaimehn yanked the microphone from overhead, Red alert! All hands stand to for action! Riov tKhellian to the bridge!
Rekkhai! Two Dhelan-class warbirds decloaking off our starboard bow! Range, 1,500 kilometers and closing fast!
The ereiriov vaulted a row of consoles and hammered the key to bring the forward shields online, muttering, Elements preserve us, under her breath and hoping the generators would behave. The Galae was so short on ships now that theyd begun bending any warbird they could find to the cause: the Maens had been a museum ship at Artaleirh, hurriedly retrofitted with systems scavenged from two too-damaged Mogai-class warbirds.
For once the Elements were smiling on her: the shields came up without complaint, and not a moment too soon as the sensor officer screamed, Missile separation!
Returning fire!
***
So were agreed on the location of the border, then? Khoroushi checked.
I have no objections, said Velal. Morgan also assented, as did Dtrel, with prompting.
Good. Adding that to the treaty proposal for the Deihuit. Next on the agenda
The chamber door shot open and a blonde Galae sShiar Rihan officer rushed in. What is the meaning of this, Arrain? Velal demanded. She dashed up to him, dropped a datapad on the table in front of him, and began whispering urgently in his ear. His expression darkened and he abruptly stood. This farce of a summit is over, he spat.
What? Why?
One of our ships in the Alpha Onias system has just been the target of a surprise attack by two warbirds of your Krehdhhokh MolRihan.
And does it make you wanna cry?
When youre out there doing what youre doing
Are you just getting by?
Tell me are you just getting by, by, by?
Where there is desire
There is gonna be a flame
Where there is a flame
Someones bound to get burned
But just because it burns
Doesnt mean you're gonna die
Youve gotta get up and try, and try, and try
P!nk, Try
Braeg trYalu couldnt believe his ears. What in the name of Water are you talking about?
Read the report yourself, if you wish. Your government is using these talks as a distraction while they mount an offensive. I am leaving.
Velal turned towards the door and heard a high-pitched whine, followed by the earsplitting crack of a light fixture exploding overhead. No, youre not, Jaleh Khoroushi spat through gritted teeth, a Type-1 holdout phaser pointed at the ceiling as hot plastic and metal fragments rained down. Dtrels jaw fell open, incipient rant rendered dead on arrival as she wondered how the Terrhain woman had gotten the weapon into the hall. Allah preserve me, I have had about enough of all of you! Sit down! she bellowed in her best drill instructor voice, drawing on her time as a chief quartermaster. Jaleh snatched the PADD off the table and slipped her pistol back into its concealed-carry holster at the small of her back. She flopped down into her chair and took a hard look at the data before declaring, Its a fake!
You cannot be serious.
These two Dhelan-class warbirds that attacked your ship, chR Maens? This one, the chMR Hyperian, was destroyed by the Undine over QonoS in January.
What?
I was there, manning the ops station on the Aenrhien. Somebodys running a false-flag operation, Fvillhu. TalShiar would be my guess.
Velal stared at her. I dont believe you.
The leih of the Hyperian was a man named Makus trSevron, Morgan said quietly. He was an ereiriov, a fine pilot and a single father. His wife was killed by the Orhyhonnsu in 2398. She looked up and caught Velals eye. We were courting.
The praetors brow creased, then he pulled his chair out and sat back down, turning to Khoroushi. You served aboard tThavraus ship?
Serve, present tense. In my day job Im her operations officer and Starfleet liaison.
I specifically requested that the Lloannmhrahel send a neutral mediator.
I was ordered by Starfleet Command to be neutral. But to be perfectly honest they think these talks are a lost cause. Proving them wrong would make my career, so if youd be so kind? Please?
The talks proceeded apace over the next three days, tense discussions broken up by the odd bout of accusations and recriminations. Dtrel took to sparring with Omektikallan to relieve the tension, while Braeg and Morgan focused on a proposal to allow cross-border trade of non-military goods by traders approved by both sides intelligence services.
Around local midnight at the start of the fifth day, Morgan heard a single squawk on her communicator. She left the diplomatic quarters and traveled into the town, a thick cloak wrapped around her against the cold and rain, and to conceal her decidedly non-Khelloann features.
Tovan trKhev awaited her at a back-alley bar in the spaceport. The air was filled with smoke from probably-illicit substances, and reverberated with the cacophony of Khelloannnasu in varying levels of inebriation belting out war hymns that ranged from mildly off-key to what could charitably be described as an armored frontal assault on the entire history of music. The tattooed security chief placed a white noise generator on the table and the bellowing warriors quickly quieted to a manageable level. What do you have for me, EreiRiov? Morgan asked. She took a sip of the liquid in her mug and immediately spat it out onto the table. And what in the name of Fire is that? Bleaghh!
Youve never had bloodwine? Tovan took a gulp from his tankard.
Its horrible!
You think thats bad, the ale here tastes like a mugato peed in battery acid.
Ill stick with water, then.
Suit yourself, Morgan. About that little altercation in Alpha Onias. Jaleh was right. I got confirmation from a Suliban I know who runs guns up that way.
You trust him?
Rhaego? Elements, no. He gave a derisive snort and took a big gulp of bloodwine. But his informations always been good. A couple Rihannsu paid one of his face artists to forge a pair of warbird IFF transponders for them a month back. He didnt put two and two together until I contacted him.
Why would the TalShiar go to a private actor for that?
We bought the encryption we use in our transponders from the Lloannmhrahel under the Khitomer Agreement last year. Its not something easy to fake with Rihan technology, and after Brea III the TalShiar are about as short on resources as Velal.
Morgan was silent for a moment. The timing is more than a little coincidental, dont you think?
I stopped believing in coincidence after I became a cop, Morgan. My guess? Somebody sprang a leak.
Right, said Jaleh the next day, scribbling down a note on her PADD. If both sides are satisfied with the trade agreement, we can discuss the big issue. Military coordination.
My soldiers wont take orders from your officers, said Velal. Were the Shiar ihSaeihr Rihan, after allthe men who are still with me cant stand those hypocritical, supercilious Thaessu.
And Im sure as fvadt not using Shiar forces unless absolutely necessary, said Dtrel. I dont trust them.
There will inevitably be joint operations, though, Morgan pointed out, diplomatically. If nothing else the Undinnsu are still out there, dont forget, as are the Bhorgsu, an enemy against whom none of us can stand alone. It would be best to have a set protocol for such situations.
Standard protocol, then, said Velal testily. Highest-ranking officer, then date of promotion, then most tactically powerful ship. Were all Rihannsu here, after all.
I agree, said Dtrel with a sharp nod. Your men had better get used to taking orders from Havrannsu, thoughwe have quite a few of them in command positions.
Fine, growled Velal through gritted teeth. Ill see what I can do.
We can try to keep Rihan commanders only on the Shiar border, said Morgan, but the anti-Havran racism must stop, preferably sooner rather than later.
Dtrels PDA beeped. Zel? What is it? And itd better be very important.
Admiral, the Klingon tachyon net just picked up a fleet of warbirds that warped into the system under cloak; theyre headed for the planet at high impulse. Reading Republic IFF beacons, but I flew them past KhreRiov tThavraus intel man and he spotted something. Sending the data to you now.
Again? snarled Velal. You will need some concrete evidence to convince me of your innocence this time.
These combat ID transponder codes were replaced three hours ago, said Dtrel, showing Velal the PDA. Whoever it is out there should have updated them
unless they didnt get the encrypted hail from Raenasa ordering the switch. Good find, trKhev, finished Morgan.
That does it, fumed Velal. I am sick and tired of these deceptions! Lets see if youre as good of a leih as your record says, Dtrel. He stood and keyed his communicator. Velal to Eyhon Ehludeteri, the TalShiar are trying to sabotage the negotiations with another false-flag operation. Three to beam up!
Kholhr, three to beam up, were going hunting!
Aenrhien, four to beam up! barked Morgan. Sound combat alert! And notify the Khitomer Civil Authority to prepare to receive wounded!
Get us moving! Dtrel shouted. Zel, bless xir indeterminately-gendered heart, was already pulling the Kholhr up to full impulse and activating the cloak. Signal Neirrh and Hatham, I need battleships to support us! Power up the plasma cannons, prep the torpedoes, and load the hyper-plasma projectile. Were going in hot.
Sir, said Omektikallan. We are being hailed.
Put it up.
Seen through our disguise, have we? snarled a crisply-goateed man in a TalShiar uniform. Clever. Its a pleasure to see you at last, Dtrel irAehallah.
Who the Ariennye are you, ahlh aehallhai?
Such language! I am Colonel Merik trKiell of the TalShiar. You killed a couple of my personal friends, Dtrel; you remember, Colonel Dorak and Colonel Hakeev?
You die now, snarled Dtrel. Shut that ataen off! Zel, do you have a trace?
Yes, Sir! Khnial-class battlecruiser with additional Borg modifications, reading as IRW Sienov. Support craft are six Valdore-class, two Llaihr-class, ten Tvaro-class, four Dhelan-class. All weapons reading hot, moving for the planet. Klingon forces are respondingthe Sixth Fleet should be here in ten minutes.
Lock all weapons and divert all power to the forward cannonsI want them all dead!
Darkness leaped forwards at a considerable fraction of the speed of light.
Aenrhien and Eyhon Ehludet'eri are mobilizing escorts to follow us, Admiral. Our support craft are cloaked and in position.
Hit em hard and recloak us for another attack run, spat Dtrel. Kill em like the Borg scum we ran into last month.
Yes, sir. First, I am ready for evasive maneuvers.
Torpedoes and plasma projectile locked and loaded, rumbled the JemHadar. Torpedoes set to full spread, cannons to scatter volley. Admiral, at your leisure.
Now.
Darkness rippled, and spat caustic plasma.
Twenty green masses of fiery plasma streaked out of the upgraded hyper-plasma torpedo launchers, ramming into the TalShiar fleet as hundreds of plasma bolts slammed into the warbirds shields. Kholhr spun sideways with a scream of inertial dampeners, dropping a massive red ball of superheated plasma as it did so. One of the Llaihr-class escorts wasnt fast enough to get out of the way, and detonated instantly.
Cloak us and
Dtrel got no further, as four massive Dderidex-class warbirds decloaked and slapped tractor beams onto the Kholhrs wings, with the malevolent, insectoid battlecruiser seizing the body of the ship in a vile, green Borg beam.
Ariennye! Zel, evasive maneuvers, full power to engines! Get us out of
TalShiar shrapnel torpedoes slammed into the hull, and Dtrel was flung from her seat as the Kholhrs always-frayed seatbelts failed yet again.
Ariennye, whispered Dtrel as Omektikallan helped her up, Daysnur screaming over internal coms for someone to reverse the shield polarity already. They got me. They played me for my rage and hate, and they got me
On the TacNet, two of the Republic battlecruisers were taking heavy fire. An enemy Tvaro-class took a direct hit from the Hatham and was crushed by its own drive singularity, but others closed in.
Oh, Elements. Ive just killed us.
Velal to Dtrel. Were coming in!
A gargantuan, predatory Scimitar-class warbird screamed out of the nothingness and disruptor fire and torpedoes crashed into the flank of the TalShiar flagship. TalShiar vessels, this is Velal iRatleihfi trHrienteh, Fvillhu sShiar ihSaeihr Rihan, the old general growled into the communicator. You have launched unprovoked attacks on warbirds of the Galae sShiar Rihan. This constitutes high treason. The penalty is death. EreiEnriov trHaldas! Break and attack!
Two D'ridthau-class warbirds and a dozen more Tvaros phased into existence on either side of the Eyhon. Concentrate all fire on their flagship! Target the tractor beam emitters and weapons arrays!
Report from the Aenrhien, Fvillhu, the erein at communications said. Lloannengalae reinforcements will be here in fifteen minutes, and Riov tJarok is leading a relief force from chMolRihan.
What about ours?
Were it, Fvillhu.
Hmph. Well, we faced worse odds against the DNneikha and Cardhassinsu. Commence attack pattern Tyrava Four!
Triple plasma streams from the Aenrhien slammed into the forward shields of the Khnial-class, which buckled under the combined assault. Theyve released their tractor! the sensor officer called. Theyre coming to starboard, trying to interpose fresh shields!
Dtrel! In the name of Fire, get out of there! Well cover you!
I AM NOT LETTING THESE SCUM GET AWAY!!!
Omektikallans voice came over the com. Admiral, we need to regroup. Continuing the assault at this time will likely result in our destruction.
Fvadt! Zel, get us out of here, reload the torpedoes and power up the hazard emitters, then we kill them all!
Gonaiih! Velal barked to his helmsman as they passed the Sienov and splashed a broadside across its bow as it rolled to present its undamaged belly shields; a secondary explosion tore several spines off. Hard about! Bring us in over the Kholhr and overlap our shields! Then retreat to the cover of the Khitomer orbital guns!
Aue, rekkhai! The titanic warbird tipped up onto its starboard wing and veered into a turn a hundred kilometers wide, a hairpin turn for a ship that size. Even through the inertial dampers Velal could feel the g-forces pressing him into his seat. The chR Eyhon Ehludeteri obliterated an enemy Tvaro in passing, and a second simply exploded against the flagships navigational shields as it fired off another salvo at the retreating Khnial-class. It slowed and nestled its broad wings over the stricken Kholhr, ventral shields dropping just long enough to bring the smaller vessel within, like a mother mogai scooping up an errant chick.
Match pace with that Scimitar! shouted Dtrel over the red alert sirens. Get our hull patched up and get us back in there, I want that filth Merik to be space dust before the day is out!
Dtrel, we cant face them out here! said Velal over the coms link. If we regroup near the orbital defences, their numerical advantage
Fine, snarled Dtrel, struggling to control her pathological hatred. Do it. First, were flying escort for Velal. Load another destabilized projectile, well hit the scum with everything we have!
Admiral, remember your therapy, said Omektikallan. For the Sixth Word of OdoItal sayeth Every life is precious. Do not spend your own save to spare another.
Right. Right. Hold on to that. Got to hold on to that Alright, line us up, keep the orbital defenses OFF until the last moment! Let em think they have us!
Praetor Velal, this is First Omektikallan aboard the Kholhr, rumbled the JemHadar. Admiral Dtrel plans to lure the TalShiar ships within range of the orbital defense grid by pretending that it is disabled. May you regain your life in OdoItals name! Victory is life!
Acknowledged, said Velal tersely over the com. Fight well.
This is chMR Aenrhien, said Morgan over the coms link. Syncing our TacNet to your ship, Fvillhu.
Do the same, snapped Dtrel to Zel. Velal, this is Dtrel. We are syncing with your ship and bringing our cruiser backup to bear. Zel, signal the Hatham to ready attack pattern Valdore Seven on my mark.
Hatham is responding, we have confirmation.
Good. Flaihhsam schRihan, get on our right flank and ready that ionized particle beam; Neirrh, ventral flank, use that phase device if necessary; open fire with the defense satellites on my mark. Zel, do we have another destabilized plasma weapon loaded?
Yes, Sir. Mintakallan, create a gravity well centered on the Sienov on my mark, try to bunch them together so our cannons can get em more easily. Admiral, IRW Sienov is closing at three-quarters impulse; theyre headed straight for us.
Why? Their plans already busted, they cant kill me, Velal, or Morgaiah and pin it on the other side anymoreoh. Backup plan. Theyre going to hit us all, kill all three of us. The Fvillhu of the Shiar, two of our highest-ranking officers including our best battlecruiser commander, and a bunch of important diplomats. And Khitomer in the bargain. Were like a fruit waiting to be plucked.
They appear to have made a tactical miscalculation by underestimating our numbers and strength, though, observed Omektikallan. This will be their undoing. For doth not the Miscellaneous Words of OdoItal state When possible, avoid attacking targets that outnumber or otherwise prove stronger than you.?
Lets hope. Alright, people. Lets keep the casualties to a minimum. On our side, at least. Give em Ariennye.
Victory is life! shouted Omektikallan, launching a volley of white-hot plasma as the Sienov thundered into range, spewing shrapnel torpedoes.
Sir? said Zel, ducking the little warbird around the flank of Velals gargantuan flagship, targeting and destroying an enemy Tvaro with a tachyon pulse followed by two cannon shots to the center of the ship. Do you need Daysnur?
No. Im good. But that reminds me Daysnur! I need an overcharge in 5 seconds, can you do it?
Jak, overcharge, on my mark! Were on it, sir!
Now!
The weapons systems overloaded, and a flaming tide of superheated plasma blasted out of the warbirds frontal cannons, searing through Sienovs shields. Return fire from a kinetic cutting beam scarred the Kholhrs flank, and sirens blared.
Damage report!
Shields are down on our left flank, redistributing now! Hull structural integrity is down to 94%! Minor hull breach, emergency force fields engaged!
Not bad. Bring us about for another pass! Target engines, weapons, and shields!
Support Kholhr, and keep firing on the Sienov! barked Velal. The TalShiar ataen are concentrating on our command shipsLlaisnen, go and support Aenrhien! We have enough firepower on this flank!
Then the satellites activated.
Green blasts of virulent disruptor energy sliced across space, guided by chMR Neirrhs targeting computer, cutting through TalShiar ships like butter. The remaining Llaihr-class destroyer detonated instantly.
Sir, chMR Hatham is taking heavy fire from enemy battlecruisers; two Dderidex-class
Dtrel, can you assist the Hatham?
On it, snarled the woman, audibly struggling to contain her rage.
That was one broken woman.
Alright. Were going to do this like the chCardhass approach. Guns blazing, all cannons to rapid fire. Focus on the enemy flagship, launch the drones and set them to target the Tvaros. Now!
Engaging, rekkhai! Initiating attack pattern Velal Five!
Disruptor fire lanced out, and drones spat plasma at the circling frigates. Sienovs shields buckled again, then stabilized, its regenerative shields compensating with remarkable speed.
Target that Dhelan-class, its shields are weak.
Ie, KhreRiov! TKhnialmnae plugged the limping escort with the plasma beams, and its engines short-circuited, the feedback detonating the core. The Aenrhien bucked under Morgan's feet and a console blew, throwing an uhlan from her chair; another ran by with the fire extinguisher.
TrSauringar, keep an eye on that Dderidex, give Llaisnen support if they need it. Morgans mind was in a quiet zone of calm, rapidly analyzing the patterns of the TalShiar ships on the tactical plot, looking for strategies and weak points.
They didnt expect so much of a fight, she thought aloud. Especially not from Velals forces. They thought that wed make a big show of diplomacy but not send a very large escort group, and they keep shooting and ignoring Velals ships like they expect them to be outdated. Velal mustve brought his very best, he really needs this peace
TThavrau, that Khnial-class is coming back! Velal radioed.
A barrage of shrapnel torpedoes sprayed in the Aenrhiens direction. Forward batteries to point-defense! she barked. Divert power to forward
Rekkhai, I read no target locks! tKhnialmnae interrupted. Theyre not aiming at us, theyre targeting our escort screen!
Oh, fvadt
A shrapnel torpedo struck chMR Hatham amidships, and the massive Dridthau-class buckled.
Aenrhien, were losing core
And the Hatham was gone, a thousand souls sucked into a collapsing singularity in a second. The crews of the Dserek and the Delevhas joined them seconds later.
Drop aft shields.
What?
Drop aft shields and divert all power to the forward battery. Veril, give me an overcharge! One focused burst! Fire!
And the warbird spat plasma. The full, massive firepower of Aenrhiens forward batteries slammed into the Sienovs forward shields just as Kholhr blew a massive red projectile up the insectile cruisers rear. Six of the malevolent tendrils shattered, the ships weapons systems igniting, secondary blasts blowing debris and bodies into vacuum. The Sienov turned, engines flaring in an evasive pattern as it lumbered out of the battle.
Dtrel to the fleet! shouted the brunette woman, waving for the torpedoes to be reloaded. Sienov is retreating, we will pursue!
Velal here, we will assist! Llaisnen, remain with Aenrhien and clean up the rest of this trash! Dtrel, I want them alive so that their leader may answer for his crimes in person!
Youd better catch him before I do, then, snarled the rahaenenriov. Because I promised my love to end the TalShiar, no matter the cost. I promised her ghost that I would annihilate them, and I always keep my word! Omektikallan, full power to the forward batteries! Zel, full impulse!
Alright, said Morgan as the titanic Scimitar-class barreled off after the retreating Sienov, the Kholhr cloaking just ahead of it. Llaisnen, this is KhreRiov Morgaiah irSheratan aboard the Aenrhien. Sync to our TacNet and line up the escorts weve got left into attack formation Velal One.
Ie, rekkhai. Chintoka formation?
Yes, that. All escorts commence attack pattern Shinzon Four on my mark, all cruisers begin attack pattern Donatra Seven at your discretion. Force the enemy towards the defense satellites!
Republic and Empire ships wheeled in space, lining up with Aenrhiens magnificent bulk in the center. The remaining enemy, two Dderidex-class with two Dhelan-class and six Tvaro-class escorts, struggled to form up under the fire of the defense sats. No, make that one Dhelan-class, she mentally updated as the others starboard nacelle shattered; the other engine shut down, signalling surrender.
Morgan did a quick head count. One Mogai-class, one Dderidex, eighteen Tvaro, four Dhael-class, one Dridthau. Excellent.
Fire at will. Take no prisoners, shoot to kill.
Plasma and disruptor fire pinned the TalShiar ships like insects on a card; the escorts died in seconds, the first Dderidex taking a heavy plasma torpedo to the ventral hull seconds later.
Concentrate fire on the marked target!
More weapons fired, this time concentrating on the damaged warbird. The Flaissan schRihans particle beam split it down the middle.
Last one, clean them up and move to assist Dtrel and the Fvillhu!
The lone cruiser tried to divert power to its shields, but the hailstorm of fire from the temporary allies blew through its defenses, spearing its core on a disruptor beam.
The ship imploded. Morgan let out a short breath.
TKhnialmnae, bring us about! Move to assist Velal and Dtrel!
Allāhu akbar, Khoroushi murmured, relieved at the battles end. Allāhu akbar.
RahaenEnriov Dtrel irAehallah trRihannsu often hallucinated her loves voice at times like this.
Adani had had such a musical voice. Everything about her she was like a drug to Dtrel, a wonderful, beautiful person in so many ways, with none of Dtrels scars. Dtrel had never been happier than the day Adani asked her to be her bonded.
Now, that wonderful voice was a thing of pain, hate, and memories. Memories Dtrel didnt like to think about.
Target engines, weapons, and shields. The engines are already damaged, shove a plasma torpedo spread up their filthy rears and end it.
Yes, Admiral. We shall be victorious in OdoItals name!
You shouldnt do this, elev.
Dtrel tried to ignore the voice. Out of all the voices, the screams, the pleading, the wrathful exhortations to kill, this one hurt the most.
Deep inside, she knew, her Adani would be disappointed in her. And the sorrowful voice was the one that brought that knowledge to the surface.
Engage now, drop the cloak and fire.
Victory is life! shouted First Omektikallan, and a hail of lethal rain blasted down on the Sienov, joining a plasma torpedo volley from the Eyhon. As the little warbird rocketed past and turned for another run, the massive battleships engines, shields, and weapons gave out, and a simple tractor beam from Mintakallans console was enough to bring it to a halt.
Admiral? Your orders?
Please, my love. Dont do this to yourself.
Alright, whispered Dtrel. Alright. First, hail the Sienov.
Sir?
Do it. Now. Before I change my mind.
Channel open, Sir.
Thank you, First. Colonel Merik trKiell of the TalShiar, you are under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder, crimes against sentience, and high treason against the Shiar ihSaeihr Rihan. Anything you say can and will be used against
She died well, said Merik with a faint smile.
What?
She died well. Didnt scream once, although she may have wanted to once we removed her vocal cords.
Who are you talking about?
You know, Dtrel. It took us a while, after we finally got our hands on that movie you were in. It was simple enough to find the original recordings and get the details that hevam left out. I was one of the ones who violated her until she died, you know? Me and Dorak and Hakeev, a few others. It was good fun. Dorak was a little drunk an hour in, he tried his amateur surgery on her. The man chuckled, looking for all the world like a friendly, benevolent uncle. That didnt end well.
Dtrel stood, stock-still, unable to process what she was hearing.
Well, Dtrel? Im defenceless. At your mercy. Go ahead and take your revenge. Or should I tell you how she started to bleed down below after the first hour and a half? Or maybe how Hakeev suggested that we stretch her on a rack after she managed to get me in the groin with her knee? Or how we did the same thing to every other prisoner we captured that day over the next few months? How we burned them afterwards and used the ashes to fertilize our enriovs plants? Come on, you b*tch! What are you waiting for?
Admiral, snarled First Omektikallan. You should not have to listen to this filth. He is an abomination before Glorious OdoItal, for his deeds violate the First, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, Tenth, Twelfth, and Sixteenth Laws of OdoItal. Give the word and we will send him to the Criminal One.
No, managed Dtrel in a nauseous whisper. No! Death is too good for this ahlh aehallhai. Transport him to the brig and hand him off to Velal on the condition that I get to help his interrogators. Then data-mine that ships computer for every fragment of intel and share it with the Galae sShiar Rihan.
Admiral? Are you all right?
I need to see Daysnur, she said, and bolted for the turbolift.
NO! shouted Merik. NO!!! GET BACK HERE!!! TAKE YOUR REVENGE, DAMN YOU!!! BLOW MY SHIP TO ARIENNYE, YOU SCUM!!!!
SILENCE!!! thundered First Omektikallan. Third, beam this foul demon of Ferenginar to the Brig. I will lead a boarding party alongside Praetor Velals men. Praise OdoItal!
First, Mintakallan reported, tail twitching, I have a fleet of Klingon starships coming out of warp 1,200 kilometers astern. Getting a signal from the IKS HoSbatlh.
Onscreen.
A stocky orangey-bronze Lethean in a camo-pattern combat hardsuit appeared on the monitor. TalShiar ships, this is General Brokosh of the Imperial Klingon Defense Forces. You have violated sovereign Imperial space and attacked foreign representatives under our protection. Surrender now orhold the phone. Its over already?
Behind the HoSbatlh, a titanic bortaSqu-class cruiser dropped out of warp and barreled forwards at full impulse. TalShiar scum! This is Koren, daughter of Grilka, Captain of the glorious IKS bortaSqu! You willwhat the What do you MEAN we missed out on a glorious battle? ARGH!!!!!! I havent seen any action since QonoS! Why does it ALWAYS take an impending apocalypse for me to get to kill things???
Koren, you damn fool, get back in formation, the Lethean grumbled, pressing a palm to his face.
Daysnur knew hed have to handle this carefully.
Dtrel had come straight to his quarters/office, ordered him up from Engineering, and broken down.
On the plus side, Velal had heard Meriks rant. The Fvillhu had taken the TalShiar thug into custody with the attitude of a man handling some particularly noxious rubbish. Velals technicians had determined that the Kholhrs final salvo had knocked out the TalShiar ships self-destruct, and Merik had been unable to delete the ships files from its disabled computer.
While logically and tactically Daysnur could understand why Merik had tried to goad Dtrel into destroying the Sienov, it didnt make him any less sick to his stomach.
Well use mind probes on him and then bring RahaenEnriov Dtrel in for his execution, Velal had promised. While I am still not fond of this upstart state, I can understand the position of its citizens and soldiers better now. Perhaps, one day, the children of chRihan will be united once again. For now, though, rest assured that the Shiar ihSaeihr Rihan will stick to the terms that we have outlined here, and will assist in all operations against the TalShiar. They are now considered enemies of the state, and will be treated as such.
Daysnur knew Dtrel would be pleased, later.
But for now the woman was lying on her back in her bed, staring at the ceiling.
He knew what he needed to do, to get her back on her feet. That didnt mean he liked it.
Alright, Admiral. Starting the merge in 3 2 1
He slipped into her mind.
The Lethean noticed the blank horror immediately. Dtrel couldnt even hate at this point, she was just frozen with horror.
Not good. Not good at all.
Alright slip in here, dredge up some old happy memories reinforce those, suppress connections to negative memories endorphin release
Dtrel was crying now. Good. She needed to release the grief. Daysnur pulled most of the way out.
Admiral. Go ahead and cry, its all right.
Why did they do it? she whispered, weeping onto his shoulder as he held her in his wiry arms. Why? She never hurt anyone in her life, none of us did Ameh irTanat gave decades to the Shiar and they killed him like an animal and they never stop! They always find me, they always take everyone I love!
Not this time, said Daysnur. Were still here, after all.
She clutched him like a distraught child clutched its mother.
I know youve lost everything. I know that you think youre broken. But you know something, Dtrel? I think shed be proud of you. I think that youre a good person through it all, and I believe that if your love could see you now, she would be proud of you. We all stand with youme, Jak, Zel, Omektikallan, Viasa, the whole crewwe know that you need us, and we are here for you and we will never leave. I know that you cant replace what you have lost, but I promise you that you will never have to go through such loss ever again. We will help you build a better future, and we will bring you what happiness we can. I promise you this, and the others will agree. You are a wonderful person, and you deserve happiness.
She never replied. Daysnur held her, letting her cry on his shoulder until she slipped into sleep, then laid her gently on the bed.
At least she wasnt thinking of that sick monster Merik. That could only be a good thing.
Fire and Night, I need to clean out my brain thought Daysnur. He spared one last look for Dtrel, then went to get a drink with his boyfriend.
Sixteen hours later.
As the sun set the next evening, Morgan stood atop the dais in the Hall of Heroes on Khitomer in full dress, honor blade and battered old disruptor pistol belted at her side, holding a scroll of replicated parchment with a wooden handle. Fvillhu Velal and an ereienriov she didnt recognize stood in the front row below her, her own senior staff to his left, Dtrel and her crew to his right. Behind him, that Letheha general, Brokosh, and a small, wiry, emerald-skinned Oryhonha captain, both of them in ceremonial armor. Brokosh looked amusingly uncomfortable, what with all that heavy leather and those plates of dense durasteel. Behind them, hundreds of Rihannsu, Khelloannnasu, and miscellaneous aliens packed the hall. More were watching on giant screens outside, she knew, as they had watched the preceding battle.
Peace, Morgan said. I never thought Id see the day. We remain a divided people, but we have peace between our two sides, with our mnheisahe intact. Its a beginning.
She opened the scroll. Alas, too many of us are not here to see it. They served under different flags, but together they shed their blood and their lives for hope, for a possible future. She reached for a glass of water and took a big gulp, then allowed her eyes to fall to the scroll. Riov Giellun trAsrafel, Leih, Republic Warbird Auspex. Erein Gwiu tMrian, Amnhheisaehne, Republic Warbird Auspex. Commander Estefania Ramirez y Suiza, Lloannengalae liaison, Republic Warbird Auspex. Forty-four more names from the Auspex. The Tvaro-class had taken a direct hit early in the battle, screening the Aenrhien from a torpedo attack. Then, EreiRiov Mheven tTyrava, Leih, Imperial Warbird Braken. Erein Llaesl trTei, ihhwisaenhe, Imperial Warbird Braken
SAITH
The ch'R Maens, or IRW Gauntlet, was a ship that appeared during the Battle of Artaleirh at the beginning of Rihannsu: The Empty Chair. It was a super-heavy cruiser that gave Kirk and Ael a hard time before the latter knocked one of its nacelles off with an asteroid. Likewise the name of Velal's flagship, Lost Road, may seem a little incongruous on a Scimitar-class, but there is sense in it. The Rihannsu reuse the names of Journey ships (the colony ships that took them to Dewa III and then ch'Rihan during the Sundering) a lot, and Lost Road seemed thematically appropriate. Bloodwing, Rea's Helm (ch'M'R Eyiv s'Rea) and Shield (ch'M'R Delevhas) are likewise Journey names.
Jaleh not keeping halal isn't that much of a problem: Islamic dietary laws explicitly state that you can ignore them if there's nothing else available, which, I would think being the only Muslim for parsecs in any direction would qualify (just like under kosher, the food has to be prepared in certain ways, and it's not like the Romulans would know how). Although admittedly she still could avoid alcohol, but that's me covering a goof I made in "Aen'rhien Vailiuri" where I had her having a friendly drink with Tovan. (Granted, a lot of Western Muslims in real life ignore that rule.)
— Sabaton, "Great War"
Check out https://unitedfederationofpla.net/s/
"This your first time at a junkyard?"
"A shipyard it is." Arwen kept gazing out the window. Her voice was calm, as one would expect, but there was a great deal of warmth to it. He wondered what her backstory was. He was like that. He liked to know the people he encountered. "Well, this here is one of the finest examples of lost treasure in this sector. I hope you find what you're looking for."
"I'm sure we will."
The cargo ship docked with the main station. Once he checked the ship was properly powered down, he stood up. "If you ladies would care to disembark. I believe this is where payment occurs."
"Yes, of course." Arwen took out a small bag from one of her belt pockets and handed over the Gold Pressed Latinum. The Yiridian quickly counted it and tucked it away, leading the women off the ship. "Well, it was a pleasure to fly with you. But if you excuse me, I have some things to take care of." With a respectful bow of the head, he locked his ship and walked away. Marge turned to Arwen. "Now what?"
"I guess we find the Station Quartermaster. It used to be Klim Dokachin but I believe it's a human now." The two women worked their way towards the station operations centre, figuring that was the best place to start.
Arwen and Marge spent the next few hours pouring over the details of what was in the junkyard. Most of it was scrap. Ships that were barely holding together. But there were a couple of choice picks. Marge held out a PADD. "What about this?" Arwen took the device and looked at the information. A YT-1300 class light Freighter. Some heavy damage to the hull, and the deflector needed replacing, but it was fast and with plenty of cargo space. "A possibility. But it will take what credits we have left to repair it. I have only just gained my Trader's License. Until we build up a pool of repeat customers, we need something cheaper, so we will have some credits in backup." Marge just grimaced and went back to the PADDs. Arwen stood up and moved to the window, resting her arm against the panel. "Somewhere out there is our ship. I can feel it." Arwen looked out at the vast amount of junk floating. Ship hulls, mostly Federation in origin, hung silently. Suspended as if comatose, waiting for someone to wake them up. Her sharp eyes spotted something in the distance. The long shape of the vessel held large cubes either side of it's spine. A perfect ship for them.
"Marge. I can see a Tuffli out there."
"Tuffli? That would be perfect. But they tend to be pricey." Marge was silent for a bit while she scrolled through the listing. She blew out a long breath. "Yeah. That's... way too rich." Arwen turned to her friend. "How rich?"
"Let's just say we need to do a lot of hauling before getting one of those."
Arwen turned back to the window. She would captain a Tuffli one day. That day would just have to be another one. As she watched her dream ship, she noticed something started to float from behind it, as if trying to take a peek. It was hard to see at this distance, but it looked like an old Starfleet ship. A flat saucer connected to two nacelles. "Marge. Am I seeing an Akira class ship out there?"
"Akira? I'd be surprised for one of those to be there." She stood up and joined her Captain at the window. Using her eye piece, she was able to see better. "Ah. No, it's an NX class ship. Same shape as an Akira, but upside down. Although that one looks like it's upside down, so... yeah, it looks like an Akira."
"NX class? I've heard of those. Small, fast, nimble and with enough cargo space, at least to get us started. How much is it?"
Marge checked her PADD. "Pretty cheap. NX classes don't tend to have many fans. Starfleet didn't exactly build alot of them back in the day. Their frames were not built to go faster than Warp Five on the old scale." Marge looked Arwen in the eye, seeing that gleam again. "No. An NX ship is not why we came here."
"Are you sure? We came here for a ship. That ship had a crew of... what? Eighty tops? And that was a full crew compliment. We won't need half as many." Arwen turned to Marge. "I think we've found our ship."
"Are you crazy?"
"At least view it before making your mind up."
"Ok. But I'm not promising anything."
Arwen entered the Bridge. Power had been restored by the Quartermaster, so they could have a full inspection. Arwen paused only a single step outside the lift. It was like stepping back in time. She imagined the ghosts of this ship's previous crew, exploring space that was now taken for granted. What the crew must have felt when they returned home that final time, knowing this ship had safely carried them through danger and brought them back. Only to be consigned to a scrap yard. She looked at the wall, running a finger gently over the dedication plaque. Below the ship's name was a list of everyone who had brought it life. She read each name, a faint smile tugging at her lips when she read the ship motto: 'Can't take the sky from me.' Realising she was showing a trace of emotion, she quickly forced herself back to an emotionless state. After all, she was going to start her Kholinar training soon. She had to be better than that.
Arwen walked to the centre chair, resting a hand on it's back, slowly taking in the entirety of the room. "You've been resting a long time. Your days of exploration are long past, but you want to fly again. That's why you showed yourself to me. You sensed we would take care of you, let you see the stars again. I won't promise you an exciting life, but I can promise you a long life." The deck started vibrating, as if in response to Arwen's words. The Vulcan moved to the helm and worked some of the controls. The engines had powered up, the ship drawing in life from her once quiet heart, now beating proudly once more. The turbolift door opened and Marge stepped out. "Main power is back online. The ship is flyable, but we should probably replace the main deflector when we get chance. Some of the engine systems are in desperate need of replacing, but we can at least get her to a starbase for upgrading. If you still want this ship."
"What do you think Marge? Is this ship one you could see yourself on?" Marge looked around, thinking her answer out carefully. "Yes. Yes it is."
"Good. Then we'll tell the Quartermaster he has a deal."
"There is one more thing. He said we can't use the official name Starfleet gave this thing, but he's willing to alter the transponder ID and repaint the name on the hull free of charge."
"Free?"
"Something about a favour he owes someone. I didn't press the issue. Do you have a name in mind?"
"Yes. Evenstar."
It took less than a day for the changes to be made. Arwen sat in the Cpatain's chair, stroking both armrests. She had decided to remove the dedication plaque from the wall, but kept it in the ready room as a momento to the ship's proud history and those who called her home before. Marge sat at helm, firmly gripping the joystick. "All systems are reading ready Sir."
"Very well. Bring Impulse engines online and ease us out of the debris field." Marge had voiced concerns about taking the ship out with only the two of them, but they couldn't very well sit here until they could gather a crew. They could at least be getting the ship upgraded in the meantime. That was one good thing about Starfleet. They always helped civillians out, free of charge. Marge reported they were clear of the field. Arwen straightened in her chair. "Warp One. Engage."
The old ship gracefully slipped from her resting place, engines glowing in a surge of power as for the first time in decades, if not longer, the vessel tore off into space. Marge reported everything holding steady and speed gradually increased towards Warp four. Suddenly the ship started shuddering. Marge frowned, becoming concerned. "Sir, the plasma injectors have locked open. Helm has become unresponsive."
"Can you shut down the engines?"
"Not from here. I need to get to Engineering."
Marge got up and ran towards the turbolift. Arwen checked the console. They weren't going to hit anything on this trajectory at least, but they couldn't stop. Arwen moved to the communication station and sent a distress call before retaking her seat at the helm. She tried everything to slow the old girl down, but nothing worked.
"I understand you've been wanting to be let free, but calm down. To run before you have walked will simply wear yourself out." Arwen realised how illogical it was to talk to a ship as if it was a living entity. Still, she couldn't help but feel a connection to ships. Probably because of her childhood. It was still illogical. The sound of transporters caused her to turn around. A Starfleet team had beamed onto the bridge, consisting of a female Trill, an Andorian male and an alien whom Arwen didn't know. He was tall and lean, dark skinned and with some spiked horns in place of his ears. He had a yellow scar across his right cheek that looked like he had been clawed by an animal some time ago. The alien stepped forward. "I'm Captain Stunshock of the Federation vessel DarkFyre. We're responding to your distress call."
"Captain. It appears our plasma injectors have fused open." Stunshock instantly turned to the Andorian. "Engineering will need you. Go." Both officers left the Bridge. Arwen raised an eyebrow. "I'm curious Captain. Would protocals normally dictate you hail a vessel before boarding it?"
"You're a ship in distress. And no one answered our hails. We matched our warp field to enable us to transport over."
"You were not concerned about hostiles?"
"We only detected two lifesigns. And my First Officer is on our ship, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice." He smiled. "This isn't my first day in the chair."
"No. But it is mine."
"Well, hopefully it will be the first of many." The ship stopped shuddering as the engines cut out, causing the ship to drop from warp. The Andorian came over the comm. "Bosip to Stunshock. We've deactivated the engines by cutting the entire core. The ship is running on emergency backup power, but I'd feel better getting the crew evacuated and towing this ship to the nearest starbase with a drydock. The systems down here are not only ancient, but they're a mess. It'll take more than I've got to sort it out."
"Understood Bosip. Head back to the DarkFyre." He turned his attention back to Arwen. "The DarkFyre can tow you. Meanwhile, would you care to join me for some lunch? I'd be fascinated to hear how you ended up with this ship. It's not exactly one you see these days."
"I would be delighted to Captain Stunshock."
Arwen liked this Captain. She sensed this could be the start of a beautiful friendship...
A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'
The turbolift doors swished open and the dimly-lit bridge to the ship was revealed. It was a familiar scene to Kathryn, except this time she was the only one in the room. Few consoles were active as the rest were in station stand-by mode. She touched the rank pips on her collar and quietly stepped into the room as if she were in a library. Once at the Captain's chair she looked into it's leather-like seat and ran a finger from the headrest to the arm controls. Her index finger rested on a button for a few seconds as she closed her eyes. Kathryn imagined the ship from the outside as it rested in the cradle of the shipyards near Earth Space Dock. It was small compared to the more recent designs, and 'ancient' by Starfleet standards. The ship design had proven itself useful and durable enough to stand the test of time and war.
She pushed the button and the main viewscreen activated. Lights activated and more consoles came to life. Kathryn sat down slowly and smiled. She knew the current crew on board the ship were actually refit and repair crews, less than a skeleton compliment. Technically, Kathryn was the only 'official' crew member on board. She requested it be that way and was surprised the request was granted. Maybe due to the total crew compliment of two hundred, Kathryn's request to hand-pick the entire crew instead of letting a computer algorithm decide the crew for her was relatively easy to accommodate. Or maybe Admiral Felczer's departure had something to do with it.
After the events at the Vega Colony, Kathryn field-command of a starship was pulled and her Lieutenant rank reinstated. She didn't harbor any ill-will about that as being promoted to Captain in an emergency situation was appropriate. Yet, being bumped down to her natural rank was also acceptable as she also didn't think she earned The Chair at the time. Six months later, after a formal review of her performance during the "Vega Incident", an accelerated course in Starship Leadership, and two more rank bars on her collar, Kathryn Selena Beringer now rightfully sat in the command chair of the Sixth Wave.
The turbolift doors swished open and an Andorian female with Tactical colors stepped through and saluted. "Commander Anthi Ythysi, reporting for duty, sir."
Kathryn stood and smiled widely, then saluted. "Welcome aboard, Commander. At ease, and let's make the rest of this meeting informal, please" The Andorian returned the smile. "It's good to see you again, Kathryn. It's been a long time."
"And you Anthi. Given the chance to make my officer pool, you were first in line."
Andorian antennae moved. "Why?"
Because we teamed well in the Academy, and I never forgot about those tests we took together. Your quick, determined, and methodical. A review of your record since the Academy shows that I'll be the luckiest Captain in Starfleet to have you at my side."
"I'm ... honored."
"Well, I'm glad you accepted." Kathryn motioned to the First officer station and Anthi walked toward the seat. "Now then, I've got a Science Chief transferring from the Axios, but I'm still looking for a Chief Engineer. Your first assignment is to offer a suggestion."
Anthi sat down and raised an eyebrow. "Only one?"
Kathryn nodded. "I need to trust your opinion, so your first suggestion is the one I'm going to follow."
The First officer looked down for a second before looking back with a reply. "My thi, Thel Ythysi."
It was the Captain's turn to raise an eyebrow.
Anthi continued, "I know it's stinks of nepotism, but I can guarantee he is one of the best Engineers in the Fleet."
Kathryn looked into Anthi's eyes. She saw a resolve that was unwavering and it comforted her. "Then I'll make the request and see what happens."