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Literary Challenge #45 : Freestyle
pwebranflakes
Member Posts: 7,741
Hello and welcome to another edition of our writers' challenges! :cool:
Today we start the two-week run of the forty-fifth Literary Challenge: Freestyle
This is the writer's thread -- only entries should be made here.
The Discussion Thread can be found HERE.
We also have an Index of previous challenges HERE.
The rules may change from one challenge to another, but I'd like to remind everyone what the base rules are. These may grow as we move on, so also feel free to give feedback!
Today we start the two-week run of the forty-fifth Literary Challenge: Freestyle
Writer's choice! Write a short story, Captain's Log entry, ETC., with a background story of your choice that is set in the Star Trek or STO universe.
This is the writer's thread -- only entries should be made here.
The Discussion Thread can be found HERE.
We also have an Index of previous challenges HERE.
The rules may change from one challenge to another, but I'd like to remind everyone what the base rules are. These may grow as we move on, so also feel free to give feedback!
- Each Challenge will run for two weeks. For 2 weeks we will sticky the challenge and let you make your entry.
- There are no right or wrong entry.
- The background story, questions I ask, and format requested are only to serve as a platform that you can start your writing from. Feel free to change up the back-story or the way you deliver, as long as the entry stays on topic of the original challenge.
- Write as little or as much as you would like.
- Please keep discussion about the entries in the appropriate Discussion Thread.
- In the Discussion Thread, feel free to write what inspired you and what your thoughts on the topic are.
- A few other important reminders:
- Please heed the rest of the forum's rules when submitting your entry! All of them apply to these posts.
- Each poster can have one entry. Feel free to edit your post to fix typos or add/ remove content as you see fit during the next two weeks.
- After two weeks time, the thread will be unstickied, as we move on to the next challenge.
- We'll have two threads: One to post the entries in and one to discuss the entries. **Cross-linking between these two threads is acceptable for these challenges ONLY!!**
Post edited by pwebranflakes on
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Background and current status are as follows:
1968: Birth
Friday, September 6th: Martin Seamus "Marty" McFly is born in Hill Valley, California, he is the youngest of three children of George and Lorraine McFly. Dave being the eldest brother and Linda, his sister, is the middle child. Little is known about Marty's early life.
1985: Age 17
Marty gives slight impression that he was somewhat embarrassed by his family and therefore didn't spend much time at home, preferring to hang out with his best friend Dr. Emmett Lathrop "Doc" Brown, Jennifer or the guys in his musical band, The Pinheads.
Saturday, October 26th: Marty accidentally time travels to 1955 and almost jeopardized his very existence. Only with the help of his friend Doc and the knowledge of the future was he able to rectify this and in the process make his entire family's lives all the better upon his return to 1985.
Marty and Doc ended up time traveling on a few more occasions and it was thought that all the traveling would end with the destruction of the DeLorean, but the Doc was resourceful enough to make a time traveling machine out of a locomotive and eventually built another time machine out of another DeLorean, with this one having a spatial coordinate system along with the time circuits.
1993: Age 25
While attending Hill Valley College with his girlfriend Jennifer Jane Parker, he proposed to marry her, which she gladly accepts. The date was set for Saturday, June 27, 1994.
1994: Age 26
Saturday, June 27th: Marty and Jennifer get married at The Chapel of Love. Doc is the best man.
Sunday, June 28th: Marty and Jennifer have an argument during the honeymoon about the marriage taking place in The Chapel of Love. Jennifer kicks Marty out of the hotel room for the night, telling him to "think about our future".
In the very early hours of that morning, Marty seeks out Doc to assist him on making it up to Jennifer by getting a "galactic" gift from the past. Doc, still half asleep, agrees on this foolish adventure.
Marty sets the DeLorean's time/spatial coordinates to Ancient Greece. The duo decides to not to use the hover mode and use a remote highway in the Mojave Desert to achieve the 88 mph needed to time travel.
4:57 AM: Exactly at the same time that the DeLorean achieves 88 mph, the Landers Earthquake rumbles across the desert. This 7.3 earthquake is a right-lateral strike-slip event that ends up causing the time traveling DeLorean to split into two separate entities, unbeknownst to them. One DeLorean travels as expected to the correct time and space (so we are going to ignore that one), while the other travels to...
2404: Age 26
Stardate 81985.2: The DeLorean arrives on a Borg infested planet in the Delta Quadrant. The Borg takes immediate interest in this unorthodox method of time travel and assimilated Marty and Doc within moments of their arrival. Marty was re-designated as 19 of 85, Fourth Adjunct of Trimatrix 47. Doc's re-designation is unknown.
2406: Age 28
Stardate 83208.4: The Borg became aware of an unusual residue of Borg components located in Grid 562 within the Beta Quadrant and sends Scoutship 255 to investigate. Crew compliment: 19 of 85, Fourth Adjunct of Trimatrix 47 and 6 of 14, Fifth Adjunct of Trimatrix 63.
Stardate 83213.1: Scoutship 255 arrives at Grid 562. Sensors indicate remnants of Scoutship 174 in Sector 1428 on the planet. Scoutship 174 was lost in 2378 after the death of the Borg Queen during that time. Further investigation required.
Stardate 83213.2: 6 of 14 couples with an intact alcove of Scoutship 174 and downloads the data. Pathogen detected. Analyze. Pathogen confirmed. Neurolytic pathogen assimilated from Admiral Kathryn Janeway of the U.S.S. Voyager, NCC-74656. Protocol: Disengage from Hive. Data transmission ends.
With the link severed, 19 of 85 slowly began to become self-aware. To help speed up his memories he kept reminding himself, "Marty, you're name is Marty". As the days went by, he gained more of his former memories. With no signs of intelligent life on this planet, Marty used the subspace transmitter aboard Scoutship 255, he sent a general distress call on all frequencies. In the meantime, while surviving off of the local fauna and wildlife, he would remind himself of who he is and where he came from, knowing that he could never return to see his wife again, but vowed to find Doc and liberate him from the Borg as well.
Stardate 83229.7: The U.S.S. Hestia responds in short order and rescues Marty. This vessel, aptly named after the Greek virgin goddess, did indeed house him like a new born child to be received into the Starfleet family. Upon this vessel he befriended Chat, a quirky individual that reminded him of Doc.
2409: Age 31
Academy Year #3 Tactical Division:
Marty was an Ensign aboard the U.S.S. Monterey when the Borg invaded again. With Marty?s heroic actions saving the crew of the U.S.S Khitomer, Admiral Quinn promoted him to Lieutenant and gave him command of the Monterey since the bridge officers had been killed in combat with the Borg.
Within a small time frame Marty quickly rose in rank under various commands and is now a Rear Admiral on an extended classified mission and has multiple vessels under his command.
All further inquiries are to be directed to Admiral Quinn.
End Transmission.
"Stardate is 98704.57."
"Thank you, computer. The admiral of the fleet has granted me a special dispensary for a new command - a retrofitted Akira-class light carrier, registry NCC-93461-C. I have yet to choose a name for this ship,but the upcoming battles will surely enough give me some form of inspiration for the name. At present, her name is U.S.S. Highborn."
"Captain Aubrey, sir. You have been requested on the bridge; I believe that we have received an invitation to participate in a...war games exercise by Admiral Riker. It may be unwise to accept,considering that his personal flagship is--"
"Thank you, Four of Thirty...Helm, set a course to rendezvous with the Admiral's ship in the Briar Patch - let's just hope that he doesn't prepare the Riker Maneuver in anticipation."
"Aye-aye, sir."
"All senior staff, to the briefing room. We have a lot to discuss."
**********************
"Captain, we have received reports of..attacks on the Romulan Republic by Admiral Riker's ship - which is--"
"Plausible, sir. Although my people are unofficially aligned with the new-found Romulan Republic, we too have had our ships attacked by what at first appeared to be a Venture X-class dreadnought cruiser, which fits the description of Admiral Riker's ship. However, there have been reports of Tal Shiar drone ships in the area, most notably near the Azure Nebula."
"Thank you, Subcommander T'kek. Next time though, please allow my executive officer to finish speaking before you break-in."
"Yes, sir. My apologies, Commander Colclough. Afterwards Captain, I would go to Deflector Control - if you will allow it."
"Of course, Subcommader. What were you going to say, Commander?"
"Thank you, sir. I was saying that it is impossible for the admiral's ship to be in the space around the Azure Nebula - because the admiral's ship, the Titan, has been in spacedock for the past three months being refitted. It sustained heavy damage in it's recent incursion against the Klingon Empire."
"That is indeed troubling. Dismissed."
"But, sir--"
"I said, DISMISSED, Lt. Cmdr. Sebers. All of you, return to your stations."
**********************
0700 hours, the Azure Nebula, 13 days after the alleged attack on Romulan ships by the U.S.S.Titan.
A Dhelan-class destroyer regenerates after a battle that destroyed 90% of the Romulan Republic's armada, and left the destroyer with no crew or captain.
Vessel Eight of Fourteen, online. Regeneration systems, online. Weapons systems, active. Auxiliary systems, online. Selecting form. . .Vessel selected: U.S.S. Retribution, NCC-93461-B. Target acquired: U.S.S. Highborn, NCC-93461-C. Primary target for assimilation: Captain George Aubrey. Secondary target: Admiral William T. Riker.
It has been twenty-four hours since my posting to Captain of the Odyssey class tactical cruiser USS PATHFINDER, registry NCC-97010. The Borg boarding parties at Vega killed all of the senior crew, including Captain Taggert who was a dear friend of mine. He will be missed. The crew is quickly settling into the idea of such a young captain, but the transition has been much more difficult for me. Though I am already well acquainted with the people I have assigned to the bridge, I have doubts about my abilities. I am thankful for Kelsi Sarish. I hope her Prophets bless her, she does her best to bolster my confidence and I am grateful to have her beside me, both on the bridge and in life. The Pathfinder has been ordered to report to the Klingon Neutral Zone where we will be assigned to the 7th fleet 77th Taskforce, known as the Phoenix Corp, under the command of Admiral Raxatuza. I have not heard great things coming from the front, however I would rather face angry Klingons than deal with the Tal Shiar. I know I am still top on their list and Empress Sela would love nothing more than to have my head. I may be a traitor to the Empire, but I am still loyal to my people. These reports of a man named D?Tan sound promising and I look forward to the chance to meet with him and the newly formed Romulan Republic.
End log.
No. not now. I will most likely feel differently later...but that what Supplemental Logs are for. Right now I don't care. I'll just try to convey what happened. To whomever is reviewing this, forgive the lapses in grammatical correctness, or established protocols. I'm still in shock.
I've just exited the Commandant's formal dining room at Starfleet Academy. It's not as I remembered it from graduation; the northeast quadrant of the room has been mirrored twice. The room has four doors, four replicators, four dining room tables.
And, for the last hour...four versions of me.
I couldn't prove they *were* me; some anomaly divided the room into the four parts, an anomaly that confounded all sensors... but one knows when it's them they're staring at in disbelief.
Version 2 of me appeared to be from the so called 'mirror universe', based on his uniform, and was about ten years younger. He was outraged at the appearance of my first officer, L'naa, throwing a dagger that bounced off the unseen barrier dividing the room. He was alone in the room, pacing back and forth like a wild beast. A fresh scar on his right arm was glowing crimson with infection.
Version 3 was older, with a terrible scar across his face. The distinctive edges of the scar...the way it didn't heal properly...well, I would guess that this version of me had a near fatal encounter with the Borg. I gasped when I saw his companion. R'nee...a classmate at the Academy who died in a shuttle accident. Tears began to fall from her eyes when she saw L'naa, and version 3 visibly sagged in his seat. Both were attired in what appeared to be Commodore's uniforms.
Version 4 was very old, and sat with an even older version of R'nee. He wore an Admiral's uniform, and she was in a summer dress...but...were those the markings of a Trill peeking through her long hair?
L'naa and I looked at each other. The shock of seeing R'nee was a punch to the soul. She was one of our closest friends at the Academy. Confusion? That doesn't begin to explain the state my mind was in. I was about to ask what was going on when a flash of light appeared in the center of the room.
Q.
Great.
Q smirked and said, "Ah...we're all finally present. Now how about you figure this out so I can go back to watching an absolutely fascinating nebula that's forming in the Gamma Quadrant?"
Version 4 stood up, straightened his jacket, and spoke quietly.
"No games, Q. Not again. I won't have them spend the next thirty years trying to figure this out. I'm going to make this brief." He turned to version 2, myself, and version 3 in turn, and explained.
"There was an event a number of years past...quite some time for me, not as much for you. Even the best at the DTI couldn't figure it out. Too many paradoxes. A reality where the Borg decimates the Alpha Quadrant. A reality where the Borg have been wiped out of existence. A reality where Vulcan has been destroyed. One where Romulus still exists, and is the center of a Pact that threatens the Federation. A reality where the Klingons and Federation are at war."
I think my jaw dropped further with each thought. A destroyed Vulcan? Romulus still intact? No Borg?
Version 4 continued. "A reality where some friends still live...and others where some friends have passed on."
Version 2 shouted, "Silence, old man!" He pointed to R'nee, screaming, "She is in a coma! And she," now pointing to L'naa, "ruined my life!"
Version 3 stood, trying to make peace. "Hold it...hold it. I know how you feel, son. I truly do."
Version 2 became even more outraged. "You know how I feel? How dare you claim to know how I feel?"
Version 3 looked away, sadly. He slid up a sleeve to show a faded scar on his right arm. "Sara and Arky's wedding."
The room became silent. It was on Sara and Arky's wedding day that the shuttle accident that claimed R'nee happened. And...I don't know...but I could kind of tell....in the other reality, that shuttle accident claimed L'naa instead of R'nee.
Version 4 motioned to the doorway...and an older version of L'naa entered. She spoke quietly. "I can imagine the pain you're feeling. In our reality we all survived the accident...but in each of your realities, you lost someone...and guilt or blame ate away like a cancer. You didn't, or couldn't move on. But it was nobody's fault. You must try to move on...before it's too late."
Version 2 shrieked, "It *IS* too late! My wife lies in sickbay in a coma! The wedding was last week! The accident was last week! It is too late!"
Version 4's R'nee spoke up. "What did you find at the accident, when you woke up. In your agonizer's pocket?"
Version 2 stalled in his rage. "A...a...small vial, with a red sphere inside."
Version 4's L'naa looked at me, and asked, "Find anything on an away mission last week?"
My jaw dropped even more. I found a similar vial containing a red sphere on Nukara Prime. I had tripped on a rock that appeared from out of nowhere.
Version 3 slumped down in his seat. He withdrew from a pocket a vial with a red sphere. "I...I...found this last week. In my garden." He smiled at his R'nee. "Our garden."
Version 4 smiled sadly, holding up a similar vial. "Under the pear tree. Right where I planted it."
Q smirked again. "Hmmph. Microscopic remnants of Red Matter. From Hobus? Or the Caeliar? Eh. Matters not. But what exactly do you intend to do with it? Your little experiment has done nothing but make a very interesting dining room."
Version 4 sat down. "Q, we've had our dealings over the years. I've figured out what Red Matter can do. That the event I spoke of earlier changed the rules of fixing paradoxes. I made sure that the four of us...the ones where changing the past could make a difference...each got a bit of Red Matter. And with all the paradoxes coexisting, it won't unravel the universe to go back and fix an accident, would it?"
It was Q's turn to sit down, thinking for a moment. "No. No, it won't. But there isn't enough Red Matter to fix all your problems. And no...I can't fix all your problems, either."
It was hard to find my voice. I was about to propose that Version 2 get it...after all, R'nee was his wife, and he had the longest to live. Well...if she didn't kill him first...it is the mirror universe, after all.
But Version 3 beat me to it. "Much as it hurts us...here." He tossed his vial to Q. "Give it to the pup. From my experiences with the mirror universe he won't appreciate the gesture...but I hate to see me in pain."
Version 4 likewise tossed his to Q. "Do it, Q. Save us the trouble for once, won't you?"
Q raised his eyebrow at me. L'naa grasped my hand, putting the vial of Red Matter into it. I didn't bother asking her why she was carrying it...I don't want to open yet another temporal can of worms. She held on to my hand...and I felt her telepathically letting go of the guilt she had about the day of the accident...and the sliver of blame she had put on me. Knowing that it was just an accident and not somebody's fault brought tears to my eyes, and I too felt blame and guilt start to slide away.
I tossed the vial to Q.
Version 2 was speechless as Q opened the vials. He bent over as if punched, then actually smiled. He stood straight, turned without a word and started to walk out of the room. As he did so, the scar on his arm disappeared. He paused at the doorway, turning around with a smirk that mimicked the one Q had, as if to say, "See you around, me."
Version 3 took R'nee's hand, got up, and silently walked out. I saw the pain in his eyes...my eyes....and hoped that he could find peace in his garden. Correction...their garden.
Version 4 stood at attention, and gave me a salute I didn't feel I deserved. He walked out his door with his L'naa & R'nee, who both gave warm smiles and a small wave goodbye. I couldn't figure out what they lost in their reality...but they weren't overjoyed at this resolution, so they too had to make a sacrifice...I just don't know what it was. Maybe it had something to do with the Symbiont Temporal Symposium that was proposed for funding after the war ended?
As they walked out, there was another flash of light. Q was nowhere to be seen.
The other sections of the room started to appear hazy...so I decided that it was a good time to leave. L'naa was still holding my hand, and we walked out together...hopefully to a future where we would find a way to let go the pain of the past.
I caught a reflection of myself in the replicator as we exited...and thought I saw yet another version of myself for a moment...one that looked worse than all the others, who looked like he lost everything in the universe.
I'm not sure, but I think I heard something like, "Don't go into the B'Tran Cluster..."
We come from a broken galaxy.
I am Terrana; half Romulan, half betazed. The old hatreds and racisms amongst the races of the Alpha and Beta Quadrant no longer exist. All of that changed when the Borg arrived. Thankfully when they came, my father was working underground with a Starfleet Intelligence mission. My Betazed father Jehm was working with a Tal Shiar operative named Talon, as well as my eventual mother T'ran; both Romulans. He received the distress call from when the Borg destroyed the Federation Fleet at Wolf 359; He was preparing to return when they got the last subspace transmission from Earth; The Enterprise had failed. Earth fell to the Borg.
The Federation was quickly swallowed, as what was left of Starfleet ran from the unstoppable force. The Borg quickly assimilated Utopia Planetia, and using material from the shattered fleet at Wolf 359 began constructing new vessels. With Starfleet's knowledge of the quadrant, they began their rampage. Nobody could stand to their force; the Star Empire, the Klingon Empire, the Cardassian Union, nobody. All that's left are a few small groups, here and there, trying their best to stay hidden from the might of the Borg. There are no longer Klingon groups, Romulans or Terrans, Vulcans or Andorians; it's all simply Non-Borg against Borg.
I was born a few years later in hiding; I suppose my parents wanted something to help them find even a bit of joy in this world. I am somewhat saddened, as I find this a pretty sad place for myself, and I had far from a "cheerful" childhood. But I digress, this is not the time to complain about the circumstances of my birth. Who knows, had this not all happened, I might not even have been created at all.
I find myself in a sad situation. My closest friend since childhood; a Reman named Avathgalad was assimilated. We managed to sever his connection to the Borg, but he's forever changed. He's still my friend; but he's but a shadow of his old self. And last week... Jehm and T'ran were killed when their ship got between the old Star Empire Bird of Prey I and Talon am on and the Borg Sphere chasing after us. Their sacrifice allowed my escape... but was it even worth it? Either of them is worth three of me.
The experiment is almost ready. Talon is eager to try it; but I feel pain whenever I think of going through with it. It was supposed to be the way all 5 of us could escape this blasted reality; now 2 and a half of us get to try. I suppose this is just life taking its toll on my mind. The plan is perfect... I just could not get it ready in time.
"Aren't you ready yet, Terrana?" Talon's voice echoed from the doorway, as Terrana pressed a button on the console to stop the log.
"As ready as we can be, Talon. Is the flux device ready?"
"Yep," Talon said as he stretched casually. "Attached to the singularity core. We activate it properly, and it should flux the singularity core sufficiently to open a quantum tear, one that if we fly the ship through, we?ll end up in another quantum reality. Just like the old Starfleet records of their Mirror Universe."
"Hopefully we'll find an existence not as... evil as that. That being said, I'll take that over this constant fear of the Borg," Terrana said with a sigh. "Will the ship make it?"
"That's the only worry, really. You and T'ran did your best to reinforce the plating of this old T'varo, but there's only so much we can prepare for. This has never been done, so the whole purpose may have been for nothing. We could get torn apart in the Rift," Talon said. "But, as you said, it's better than the alternative. That Sphere that's been trailing us this last week, we don't have the firepower to fight it."
"So possible death in the rift, or definite death... or worse... at the hands of the Borg. Very well," she said.
*On the Bridge*
Terrana, Talon, and Avathgalad sat upon the bridge. All ship functions had been re-routed to their stations; as they were the only ones on the ship. "Terrana," Avathgalad?s somewhat flat voice called out suddenly, "I'm detecting a Borg warp signature approaching. If we hurry, we should be able to get this done before they reach us."
"No sense waiting. Do it," Terrana said. Talon nodded, and hit the button.
The ship's singularity core began pulsing with an odd bluish light, as a beam shot out from the front of the ship. The rift began to appear, like a pulsing blue gravity well in space before them. "Take us through!" Terrana yelled, as Avathgalad hit the impulse engines to full. Reality began to bend around them as they passed through, as alarms went off across the ship as it was twisted by the energy coursing around it and through it.
Abruptly they were free, but the alarms continued to go off. "The core's about to blow," Talon said with a frown. "There's a planet close enough for us to beam down! We don't have time to debate, I'm beaming us down!" he called out, hands flying across the console.
They appeared on the surface just in time to see their ship explode in orbit in a green and blue explosion. "Well, there goes our wings..." Terrana said. "Where are we?" she asked, looking around.
Talon was looking at the plantlife. "It's not a Borg assimilated world, I know that much, and that's all part of me cares about." He was scanning with his tricorder. "According to this, I got a quick scan with the ship before we beamed down, this is a planet called Virinat. There's a Romulan population here, nothing big."
"Guess we try to pass off as refugees, eh?" Terrana said.
"At this point," Talon said, "Aside from Avathgalad, we certainly look ordinary enough. And hey; after what we've been through, I can use a rest."
Terrana smiled. "I suppose we could, couldn't we?"
And so Talon and Terrana, as well as their Liberated Borg Reman companion Avathgalad, were able to join the Virinat colony. Though glad the Borg didn?t own the galaxy in this reality, they were saddened to hear of the destruction of their home world. They made their lives as honest farmers and workers? until the Elachi and Tal Shiar came. And the rest is history.
Commander Gorvar of the IKS Dauntless
Stardate 98704.57, Qo'noS time is 1223
This might be my final log as Captain of the Dauntless.
We are currently en route to Qo'noS with our cargo bay filled to the burst with escape pods from a race we didn't know existed until 0600 this morning. The Romulan Republic has been warned and D'tan is sending several of their finest to help how we can free them.
I may have re-ignited a war which nearly destroyed our Empire a mere three decades ago. A war the Empire, the Federation and even the Romulans would've lost if it weren't for Captain Sisko and the Prophets. A war that will cost billions of lives in exchange for four hundred and fifty people who may or may not even wake up. Am I mad to have chosen this outcome? To have given the Dominion an excuse to invade the Alpha Quadrant once more?
....
I better start at the beginning. This morning at 0600, which seems a life time ago. We were patrolling close to the Bajor system, the Empire always has a few ships near the wormhole at all times to keep an eye on things. I was having my coffee, an beverage I was introduced to on Deep Space 9 during the war, when Thraask called in...
"Commander." The Gorn Science officer called." I'm picking up something on sensors."
Gorvar placed his mug down as he walked over to his friend. Gorvar and Thraask were of the same size, despite the fact both were from two different casts. Gorvar was born in the Warrior cast while Thraask was born in the worker cast. However Thraak was the offspring of a warrior male and a worker female, so in his own words he was the best of both worlds.
"What are you picking up, Thraask?" The Commander asked as he peered at the monitor.
"Weapon fire." He looked Gorvar in the eye. "Dominion signature."
Gorvar stared back at him before he glanced to his mate, the Klingon female who was her second in command. Krishna Of the House of Karlan. She was as a Klingon female should be. Strong, long black hair and a scar across the left side of her face and a small stump where a portion of her ear was bitten off by an drunken Gorn who had enough of her insults. The first of many mating scars she proudly wore. To make things fair she made quite a few scars herself across Gorvar's back that same night she lost her ear.
Like Gorvar she was a bit older than most of the crewmen on the bridge, but like her mate she also fought in the Dominion war and knew how dangerous one Jem'Hadar ship could be.
"K'Gar, can you cross reference that to our database?" Gorvar asked the Klingon male at tactical. K'Gar was the third and final member of the bridge crew who also served during the war although on different ships. He saw enough combat to know how Jem'Hadar weaponry looked like on his screen, even after three decades.
"I did, it's Jem'Hadar fire, Commander." K'Gar replied." They seem to be in combat."
"Federation?" Gorvar asked.
"No, the phaser frequency is different from a Federation vessel and it would be unwise to antagonize them this close to Bajor and DS9. The energy signature for defender's weapons are unknown to us." Krishna said. A sound went off."The defenders are sending a automated SoS signal. Running it through the universal translator." She frowned as she tried to read." We are Ikran, we flee from the Founders, we flee to be free. To those who love honour and freedom, help us." She looked at the Commander." Please, help us."
"That settles it. Helmsmen set a course to the battlefield. Full impulse." Gorvar took his place at his captain's chair in the middle of the bridge.
"Commander, isn't it best we leave this to the Federation? It is technically their space." One of the junior crewmen said. The Commander took a look at the bekk and smirked." There is a human proverb I like, the early bird catches the worm. And this worm my boy is large and juicy."
"Aye, Commander." The bekk said as he tried to hide the confusion on his face and continued his duties.
Krishna leaned in close to Gorvar." Stop confusing the pups with human sayings, this is a Klingon vessel."
"You prefer I quote Shakespeare then, my dear?" Gorvar chuckled quietly as his mate rolled her eyes and punched some keys on her console to hide her amusement.
The Dauntless sped toward the battle, cloaked of course, as it unfolded. Three Jem'Hadar vessels were engaged in a savage dogfight with several bizarre vessels. The defending ships were shaped like an X, using phasers which came from the outer points of each appendage. They were highly flexible despite them being the same size as their adversaries. However despite their agility, their phasers did not seem to penetrate through the Jem'Hadar' shields.
"Like a pack of Targs trying to nip at a giant's feet." K'Gar mused as the bridge saw the battle on the screen.
Thraask made a quick scan at the ships." Ah, this explains it. Those ships are unmanned. No organic mind could react fast enough or survive the constant pressure changes."
"Did those ships send the distress signal?" Gorvar asked.
"Not the ships, something else. Hold on Commander, let me show a little light." Thraask punched in a few keys as a small pod lit up red. The Gorn Science Officer took a quarter of the screen to zoom in on the pod so the battle could still be seen. The pod showed one life sign and after a quick scan, it came up as unknown.
"Unknown, commander." Thraask said." According to my scans It's been in stasis for a long, long time."
"Can we see it's face?" Gorvar asked.
Thraask nodded and showed the face of the alien on screen. It was an humanoid creature. Male. It had a red skin, white marks over his eyes and blue hair. Gorvar could not help but blink.
"Commander, isn't that-" The bekk tried to say but Gorvar already stood up and walked over to the screen.
"The same race as Captain Doutra we met on Khitomer?" Gorvar added." Yes it is."
"Captain, I'm detecting many more of these pods. Hundreds." Thraask said. He calculated. "Over Four hundred give or take."
"The Jem'Hadar are targeting these." K'Gar said." I detect debris of several pods and those drone ships."
"Those D'Blok!" Krishna cursed." There is no honour in fighting an enemy that does not fight back themselves."
Gorvar's mind went back to the same dark space he always went to when he saw escape pods. The small, dark room floating in the coldness of space. Plate as thick as a thumb which separate life from death. There are no shields, no weapons, no monitors. Death could arrive in the form of a phaser blast, or a meteor or a piece of debris. Worst of all the person inside cant see it coming. Do nothing to defend themselves. Why and how he survived as others on the same ship didn't Gorvar did not know. If it wasn't for the Bird of Prey that rescued him from the Hegemony vessel he would've been vaporized long ago. He swore that day on his honour he would protect those who could not protect themselves in that situation. But that was a promise easily made. If he would save these people, it meant fighting the Dominion. And if they were provoked, the entire Alpha quadrant would be once more soaked into war and with the Romulans and Cardassians severely crippled the chances of holding back let alone fend off a invasion. He did not owe these people anything, he could just warp away and ignored this happened. And yet...
"Can we beam these pods aboard?" Gorvar asked. The bridge crew fell silent until the Gorn turned around." Well?"
"We can, but it will take five minutes to-" Thraask tried to say but got interrupted by his Commander.
"Good, also try to send an message to those Ikrian ships that we are their allies and are beaming their people aboard. Our shields will be down for those five minutes and we need every second we can until we can raise them again. Krishna tell the pilots of the Scorpion fighters to suit up. It's time we test those Romulan fighters out. K'Gan I want weapons standing by."
"Commander, if we engage the Jem'Hadar we would break the Treaty." The Bekk pointed out.
Gorvar could not help but recall a line from Shakespeare." Cry Havoc and let loose, the dogs of war." He turned around to Krishna and gave her a nod, which she returned and relayed his orders without question.
The Dauntless decloaked as it started to transport the surviving escape pods inside it's cargo bay. The Jem'Hadar stopped firing as they regrouped, like a pack of wolves after a bear came to claim their prey. The few remaining X- ships rallied near the Dauntless as the Scorpion fighters lined up around the K't'inga-class battle cruiser.
"The Ikrian ships are lining up to defend us. Seems our message got through."
"We beamed all those surviving Ikrians aboard commander." Thraask said." Shields coming back up."
"Commander, we are being hailed." K'Gar said." Three guesses who."
"One will do. On screen." Gorvar said as the monitor switched on. A vorta stood unphased as she seemed to look the gorn down.
"I am Kaileen, spokeswoman of the Founders. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" She asked.
"I am Commander Gorvar of the IKS Dauntless." He replied politely.
"An genuine pleasure to meet you, Commander. You do seem to be a long way from home."
"As are you." he retorted.
She gave a smile as sharp as any dagger." So we are. However I'm sadly going to have to ask you to hand over those escape pods to us at once. Those people are enemies of the Dominion."
" I have a hard time believing people in escape pods who cannot return fire are an enemy to anyone." Gorvar replied." I am sorry but the Ikrians are staying with us."
"Do not be so hasty, Commander Gorvar." Kaileen replied." You do not know how devilish these creatures are. The Ikrians nearly destroyed the Dominion after our little....scuffle we had thirty years ago weakened us greatly. We have to wipe them out before they can try again."
"That reaction cost you the war, Kaileen." He said as he walked around the bridge." And I met one before." Gorvar retorted." She helped save a lot of lives. Romulan, Human and Klingon. I owe her enough to save at least a few of her people from your brand of justice. The Ikrians are staying and unless you want to break the Treaty I suggest you leave, before I grow angry."
"We outnumber you two to one, Commander. What possible threat can you pose us?" the Vorta smirked." You have one minute to reconsider that I'm sadly forced to upon fire. Choose wisely Commander." With a smile she ended the call.
"Orders sir?" K'gan asked.
Gorvar walked back to his chair and sat down. Krishna noticed he was holding the ends of his chair hard.He glared at the six Jem'Hadar ships in front of him." baH!" he shouted. "Blow, wind. come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back!"
"Fire all weapons!" Kirshna answered the captain's call." Show them our answer!"
The Dauntless' reply came in the form of an unleashed beast as phasers and torpedos came forth and pounded the Dominion vessels hard. The Scorpion fighters charged forward and engaged the enemy ships as they dodged their fire. The X-ships joined the fray with their new allies and this time seemed to be doing more damage to them. In the end, the Dauntless' ferocity and tenacity proved to be to much for the Dominion ships as the remaining three retreated. But the damage was also large on the Klingon side. The remaining X-ships were destroyed as well as half the Scorpion Squadron and many warriors on the Dauntless itself left on the barge to Sto'Vo'Kor. However this fuelled the surviving crew even more and chased the surviving ships down.
The former two managed to jump away to warp but the later got shot down for it's efforts by the Dauntless.
"Qapla!" the crew cheered at this victory and sang a victory song. Only one kept his reserve, the one who feared the consequences of his actions.
In total fourty-eight warriors died, but somehow I fear they are the first to journey to Sto'Vo'Kor because of my decision. Thraask tried to open a pod early but decided against it since opening it would've meant death for the Ikran. I contacted command who in turn contacted the Republic. Turns out Captain Doutra also found a pod a small while ago. She as well as several Romulan scientists are called in. Maybe now the pieces are coming together so we might finish this puzzle.
Regardless the chancellor did not seem pleased with my decision. The Federation, the Borg, the Breen and even the Tal Shiar are breathing down our necks. The last thing we need is the Dominion. Already spies report numerous ships are jumping through the wormhole from the Beta quadrant and are spotted throughout the Alpha quadrant.
I swore an oath to myself, to leave those people to die at the hands of the Jem'Hadar meant leaving my honour behind. I had to do it, there was no other choice. That is what I keep telling myself anyways.
....
End log.
Gorvar rubbed his eyes as he heard his room's door slide open. He recognized his mate's scent and heard her footsteps. She did not say anything. She did not call him a hero or a fool. She did not throw things against the wall or kissed him deeply. She just placed her hand on his shoulder and held him close. She was Krishna, his mate for the good times and the bad. His rock, his heart, his pillar of strength. And the only one on the ship whom could take away the mask and love him for who he was. Gorvar placed his hand on hers and wished this moment would last forever.
The end.
*******
Gar'Atadar: Six Days till vacation
Gregs Son'aire had just finished drinking his morning cup of the delicious and rich earth drink known as Hot Chocolate, when he heard a popping sound coming from outside his sleeping quarters. He peeked outside and was surprised at what he saw. At first he was confused, then once taking a second look at his friend's perplexing predicament, tried his best not to laugh at Gar'Atadar, his poor Jem'Hadar security officer, who was feebly squirming out of his now ruined flotation device. "Having trouble there Gar," asked Gregs. The officer turned, shocked at seeing his superior officer a few feet from him, then turned away and continued to strip the once inflated, rubber duck floaty from around his waste. "Do you need help?" Gregs asked, unsure why his friend was not responding to him. The Jem'Hadar stood stoically for a moment, before turning to Gregs and sighing.
"Yes, sir, after multiple attempts at finding the proper rubber polymer to withstand my tough skin, I've failed twelve times now." he reported to me with a grimace. Really it was hard to tell his emotion, being very monotonous by his nature and experience, Gregs assumed it was grimace. "Do you know f any solutions to my predicament sir?" he asked me.
He pondered this, thinking over the available options, and with a snap of his fingers and a figurative light bulb moment, Gregs thought of a solution. "I have just what you need." he said, walking over to the replicator he began to type in a series of complex and intricate code The replicator chimed in her infamous voice, requesting a voice authorization. "Gregs Son'aire-Gamma-Sigma-Sixty-Six, command code override b" he stated to the replicator, "Access specialized rubber polymer J, fit to last twelve requests and synthesize." The result was a black rubber duck inner tube, one with an experimental rubber that was thought of for this very odd, but possible scenario. Gar tried it on and found that it stretched and did not pop.
"Thank you captain!" said Gar with a slight smile, and he went to turn around towards the holodecks.
"Gar, if I could be so bold...what made you want to make this inner tube?" he continued, "I mean we are six days away from Risa still?" The Jem'Hadar turned around, and looked down at his humongous feet.
"Well sir... I cannot swim, and Ms. Chassidy has offered to teach me to swim." he said in sighing in defeat, knowing he could not escape his persistent captain.
"You can't swim? Why not?" Gregs asked. The Jem'Hadar looked paler then normal, then sighed, deciding to confess the truth to his higher ranking officer and loyal friend.
"As Jem'Hadar I am not meant for battle in water...my previous incarnations have met with more then a few watery...deaths," he said uncomfortably before continuing, "I am unique in some sense among my kind, being able to remember echoes of my past lives, though I'd kept it a secret even during the wars, truthfully it is one such echo that led me to search your crew out." He had said something personal, and Gregs understood this, the feelings of embarrassment and unease rolling off of his friend.
"Thank you for sharing such a personal detail about yourself Gar, I appreciate it," he said, "And trust me, you'll get a hang of swimming no problem, I just know it!" He said this with complete confidence in his friend, greatly relieving the Jem'Hadar, before they parted their ways for their morning routines.
*******
Cal'Shiclar joined the Romulan Defense Forces to help further her schooling as a scientist and was about to be honorably discharged following the decommission of the aging warbird Jolan'Hu.
The destruction of Romulus changed these plans leaving her little choice but to stay on board as a member of the crew. When the Jolan'Hu was destroyed near the beta/delta quadrant border in a random encounter with a race calling themselves the Tak Tak, she was the only survivor.
To this day, for the most part she refuses to talk about those days and the events that led to her ship's destruction, but will say, to the bafflement of her comrades, that she will never put her hands on her hips again!
Commander Jinnifreuz
USS Robert April
When I was 13 a Gorn bought my father's debts and sent him to die in what would later turn out to be one of the first border clashes between the Hegemony and the Klingon Empire. Big news in retrospect - at the time all I noticed was that I was alone for the first time. That wasn't easy. It's the motherless girls who get sold into slavery; scent glands cut, forcibly addicted to k-green and the other drugs that keep them happy and obedient. But I was lucky. My father had made sure I had enough education to go into technical training rather than being sold off as a, let's call it courtesan, and he had enough connections with other bully-boys in the Syndicate that I had no problem getting my first posting on a real starship.
I only met my mother once. Well, once after I was weaned, anyway. Yeah, she was old-fashioned that way. Most Orion women with money use artificial birthing chambers if they're going to have a kid when they're working, but my mother was something else. When I was eight, my dad was working security for this big, thick-necked Cardassian named Gulak. Gulak was an ex-glinn who had defected to the Syndicate when the Dominion had showed up; real smarmy type, you know the kind of Cardassian I mean. Paid Dad well, though, and let him have a room big enough for his daughter to grow up in. I hear Hassan the Undying personally gutted him when he took over his operation. But that's a different story.
Anyway, I was in my usual place when Dad was working - in our shared quarters in the hold of Gulak's landed ship, watching some old holo of the first Earth-Romulan War, when suddenly the curtain is pulled back and there's this lady looking at me - tall, green skin, green hair, and something familiar about her eyes. She was more dressed than most Orion women I'd seen, in this really nice red tunic covered in dust, and she offered her hand to me. "Hello, Jinni. My name is Kaldana. Will you come with me?"
I pulled my hand back and said hell no: my dad taught me better than that, especially on a planet like this one where we're way outside any borders and not even the Syndicate is that important, but a minute later Dad himself pops up. Sweating, looking nervous, but standing behind this woman like she belongs there. "It's okay, Jinni, she's just going to show you where she works." Dad was as vulnerable as any other Orion male to pheremones, but one thing he could never get swayed from was me. So I pulled my way out of my bunk and followed the two of them, heading out into what looks like this big crater.
Kaldana had a lot of questions for me as we went - what's the most efficient form of warp core? What languages do I speak? How is my education progressing? I did my best to answer, shooting a look at Dad when I thought she wasn't looking, but his eyes didn't tell me anything. I don't see Gulak; I find out later he's passed out in my mother's bedchamber, but I do start to see what's going on. The people on this planet are digging this hole! It's some kind of archeological thing, and from how people act around Kaldana she's in charge.
Eventually she leads us down into this big room, big as the engine room in Gulak's ship, a buried vault that's lined with gold and corroded copper. I was pretty sheltered back then but I knew the signs of looting when I saw it - vaults cracked open or smashed to pieces, marks on the walls where jewels were cut right out of the stone, you know the kind. It looks like it happened a long time ago. "Do you know who this is, Jinni?" She pointed and I look up and there's a statue there - a really creepy one!
It looks like an Orion woman but it's tall as a Gorn with red staring eyes and big teeth, and she's pulling a crown (you know the kind I mean, the big tall ones) out of some place that looks really damn uncomfortable to me and I hadn't even seen childbirth yet. In her other hand she's got this huge old sword, the kind I've seen in the collections of some very rich, very old Orions.
I stumbled at this point, and I saw Kaldana's eyes sharpen as she looked at me, and I fumbled through an explanation. "It's, uh, the Dark Mother-Queen?" I'd seen the pictures in some of my dad's automated school lessons - the Dark Mother-Queen, one of the ancient Orion gods. And I'm right, but it's not good enough for Kaldana. We stand there for at least an hour, my dad and I, as she lectures to us: the Dark Mother-Queen is the divine ruler and mistress of the gods, the destroyer and ruler who has the power to make life from her womb and thus must, and should, rule all. I can see her sweating as she talks, her pheremones in the air, and I can read it well enough to know how well she believes it.
And then it's done. My dad tells me to go back to the ship and that he'll see me soon, and I look back as I'm hiking up these high bronze steps just in time to see the two of them embrace. That didn't freak me out as much as it would some human kid; that's not really a _thing_ in our society. But something about Kaldana herself got me thinking, all the way back until my dad and I were in space again.
"Why don't we worship the Dark Mother-Queen anymore?" I asked him not long after we left Kaldana's planet, and he looks at me carefully before he puts down his security files.
"What do you mean, baby?"
"Well, she's pretty much the perfect Orion goddess, and she was supposed to be the creator of all our people. Why did we stop believing that?"
And then my dad sort of shrugs, and he tells me the truth. The old gods are gone because they didn't matter to us anymore. We didn't kill our gods like the Klingons or turn them into museum pieces like the humans. We didn't make our own code like the Ferengi did, either. The Orion people abandoned the old gods because believing in things was just slowing down our people's Great Game with the Ferengi, the Nausicaans, and the other hunting species of space. Belief is a cage; one that can't hold Orions down. That's why we'll do anything to survive.
That's why mothers can abandon their children. That's why we can buy and sell each other, force a whole galaxy into slavery, because having a reason not to do that would take too much time. Because we are what we are.
I never saw my mother again. I eventually found Kaldana's World on a map not long after I joined the Robert April's crew - turns out the Tholians bombed the hell out of the place not long afterwards, and nobody ever got any straight answers as to why. Mysteries and ghosts; ghosts and mysteries.
Maybe I don't have something to believe in. But I have a ship, and a crew, and friends who want to help save the galaxy and free my people from the chains we've wrapped around each other's necks in the name of protecting our own freedom.
That's enough. It will have to be.
Eyes in the mirror,
Still expecting they'll come,
And sensing too well, when the journey is done
There is no turning back, no,
There is no turning back on the run...
- Robert Plant, Big Log
Virinat smelled like green. And fertilizer, of course, but mostly green. Nniol tr'Keiniadh took a deep breath of the air. It had been a day of hard work, not unusual on a Rihannsu colony world, especially since the loss of ch'Rihan some twenty cycles before; it had also been a little bizarre, what with the behavior of the bugs and that strange cybernetic insect Nniol had found in the cave. That was someone else's worry, though. Nniol had been practicing not worrying about things for almost a local year, and he was starting to get pretty good at it.
Tonight was no night for worry anyway. Harvest Festival! A night of partying, gorging as if food had never been in short supply, and perhaps an evening with a lovely young lady or two - the entire colony had been looking forward to this night. Word was that D'Vex had even smuggled in some fireworks, harmless but made contraband recently by the increasingly-aggressive Tal Shiar, the new de facto government of the Empire under Sela, that half-breed-- Nniol consciously stopped himself, taking another deep breath. Not your problem these days, remember, Nniol? Let someone who's still under her thumb worry about that...
Nniol's comlink beeped. He activated the screen; his young friend Tovan, a technician from the starport repair facility, looked out at him. "Are you done in the fields yet, Nniol?"
"Yes, I finished up about half an hour ago."
"Great. Come meet me at the square - they're about to open the new vintage of ale!"
Nniol grinned. Rumor was that someone had managed to tweak the fermentation of the khellid nectar to make something that actually tasted like proper Romulan ale! "I'll be right there, Tovan. Save me a mug!"
"No promises, Nniol," Tovan laughed. "Better get over here before I drink it all myself!"
"On my way!" Nniol signed off, then started jogging toward the square.
"My friends! Welcome to Virinat's Harvest Festival!" The Maiori, smiling like a born politician, droned on from the podium, going on about "new friends" and "old losses"; the crowd was tolerant, but clearly far more interested in decanting the new ale than listening to his speech. At last the old man wound down. "And so, without further ado, let the Festival begin!"
The cries were loud and lusty as the fireworks began erupting overhead; abruptly, however, the cries turned to screams as a strange black ship loomed overhead. A green ball of plasma burned its way through the sky, exploding as it hit a nearby silo.
"Nniol! Nniol, are you all right?"
Nniol blinked, and blinked again, clearing away the haze. Tovan knelt over him. "How did I get down here?" Nniol asked, stunned.
"The explosion. We're under attack, Nniol! I have to get to the port and help get the shuttles ready to evacuate! Go round up people and send them to the field! And see if you can find the milita!"
Nniol shook his head to clear it. Tovan ran off toward the field as he got up. Nearby, he saw a group of the local militia, unused to fighting anything but the local fauna, trying desperately to look cool and confident as they grasped their plasma rifles. At that moment, another explosion struck, blinding Nniol; as the dust cleared, he saw that the entire group had been felled. Feeling trapped in a dream, he saw himself running forward, grabbing one of the rifles, shouldering it expertly, and firing at the point the grenade had come from. A warrior in the uniform of the Tal Shiar fell from the rooftop, screaming momentarily.
Tal Shiar?? How did they find me-- no, Nniol. That's not important right now. Get these people out of here while there's still time!
His comlink beeped. "Nniol? Nniol, are you there?"
He pulled it up. "I'm here, Tovan. I think most of the militia are dead."
"Elements! Listen, Nniol, we have to evacuate the colony. But we need help, too. Can you get to a comm panel?"
"Probably, but the power's down. I can't get a signal out."
"Sure you can. Get to one of the cameras in the market, get a battery out, and jack that into a comm panel. Then hit the Distress button. That should give you enough power for at least a moment or two; it's not like you're delivering a speech to the Senate, just screaming 'Help!"
"Okay, I'll give it a try. tr'Keiniadh out." He replaced the comlink at his belt, realizing a moment too late that he'd closed with precise military phrasing. I'll probably have to explain that one later, if the Elements favor us. I'd better try to think up a good story first.
The plaza was crossed with beams and bursts of plasma, as the colonists tried vainly to battle the far superior Tal Shiar forces. "To the field!" Nniol shouted. "Everyone to the launching field! We have to evacuate! Move, move, move!!!" Colonists began heading toward the launching fields, as Nniol provided covering fire with his rifle. Long-ago training, virtually unused for over six cycles, came unbidden to him: Lead the target; blast speed is affected by local magnetic fields. Aiming software activated - thank Fire and Air this unit's equipped. Always identify your target before shooting. As the crowd moved away, Nniol worked his way across the plaza, dashing from cover to cover, picking off Tal Shiar along the way. At last he reached a wall overlooking a silo entrance next to the market; a camera hung there, its optics charred and blasted in the attack. Air and Earth watch over me, Nniol prayed, and let the battery be untouched!
He jimmied the case open, and found his prayers answered. A few moments' prying, and his prize lay in his hand. Now for the next part - where's a comm console? Ah, over there. Firing one-handed now, Nniol crossed to the comm panel at the market's exit, frying down the two Tal Shiar assigned to guard it. He stepped over their heated corpses, wrinkling his nose for a moment at the stench of burned flesh and boiled copper and the ancient memories it revived, then accessed the battery panel, plugged the battery in, and powered the console up. "Attention, any ships within range!" he said into the mic. "This is Virinat Colony, Nniol tr'Keiniadh speaking. We are under attack, I repeat, we are under attack! Mixed forces, Tal Shiar and unidentified aliens! Don't bother replying, just respond to our location immediately, please! Location beacon will remain active as long as possible! Repeating..." He switched the console to autorepeat, then began making his own way to the launch field.
A new wrinkle emerged; Nniol saw colonists flying into the air, seemingly unsupported. What in--? Then he saw the creatures, similar in shape to the cyborg insects he'd seen earlier, but much larger, grasping people by their torsos and dragging them screaming toward the massive black ship that still hovered overhead. He tried to shoot some of them down, but between their speed and the hostages he feared harming, he might as well have been shooting at spirits. He redoubled his efforts to reach the launching platform.
Finally he reached the ramp to the platform. "Thank the Elements!" Tovan shouted. "I'm pretty sure we've got all the survivors aboard the shuttles. We're headed for the ships in orbit. Get aboard - we'll take D'Vex's old Warbird, he's shown me some tricks we can use!"
"Just a moment," Nniol replied. Turning, he burned down the three Tal Shiar soldiers who'd been trailing him. "Okay, here I come!"
Hordes of spacecraft, from bulk haulers that had been planetside for repairs to tiny shuttlecraft holding barely a dozen (but nearly all critically overloaded), struggled into the sky over Virinat. The space immediately above blazed with plasma beams and explosions, as the Tal Shiar in orbit picked at the fleeing refugees. Many of the shuttles were reaching orbiting ships - but not enough. As Tovan piloted their shuttle, Nniol listened helplessly to the pleading on the radio - because of me, he thought.
"Attention, hostile craft! This is Virinat Shuttle Five! We are a civilian craft! We are unarmed! Accept our surren--" Shuttle Five blossomed into a ball of fire.
Tovan cursed. "They're killing everybody! This doesn't make any sense!"
"In a twisted way, it may make more sense than you know, Tovan."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Later. When we're out of this. One moment, we're getting an encoded transmission..."
"Shuttle Twenty-Three, this is Shuttle Twelve. Tovan, we're blocking their sensors. When they get us, it'll look like you got caught in the explo--" Static hissed, as the explosion of Shuttle Twelve rocked their small craft.
"Cut thrusters, Tovan," Nniol ordered, in the tone of one used to obedience. "They're right - at this angle, we'll look like debris. We can shape orbit for the warbird when the attack ship goes away."
Tovan shut off the ship's thrusters, and the little craft went dark."Okay, Nniol, but I sure hope you know what you're doing."
"So do I."
Several tense moments passed, until the Mogai-class frigate moved away, seeking other easy prey. When its attention was firmly elsewhere, Tovan reignited the thrusters, and in a matter of moments the shuttle and its load of refugees was navigating the debris field in which D'Vex had concealed his old warbird, the Emerald Flame. The automated docking mechanisms were still in good shape, and the shuttle locked firmly to the main airlock of the aged starship.
"Everybody move!" Nniol ordered over the intercom. "We need to get inboard the Flame and get her moving yesterday, people! Move, move, move!"
"Come on, Nniol," Tovan said. "This way to the bridge."
"Thanks, Tovan, but I know my way around a T'liss. Get to Engineering - you know more about that than anyone else aboard. I can run the bridge until you get things set up."
Tovan gave Nniol a look. "Well, all right," he said reluctantly, "but when all this is over, you definitely owe me a story."
"I'll try to make it a good one." The turbolift doors closed behind Nniol, and soon reopened on the ship's bridge. He walked slowly into the room, memories filling his mind as he ran his fingers over the consoles. After a few moments, he regathered his thoughts, sat at the helm console, and began tying ship's functions into his controls.
Tovan called from Engineering. "I've got the singularity core spun up. You'll have partial impulse in a few moments, and full impulse not long after that. It'll be a while before we have warp, however. Oh, and the weapon systems should be online. You'll want to familiarize yourself with them - D'Vex changed a few things out over the years."
Nniol called up the weapons display, and ran down the list. Plasma torpedo, standard; forward plasma beam banks, okay, I'd have used an array, but... Turret aft? I see you're a straight-on fighter, D'Vex. I can work with this. "Thanks, Tovan. When you're ready, I could use a hand up here - piloting and shooting's a bit much." He switched to all-hail. "Attention, all hands," he announced. "This is Nniol tr'Keiniadh, currently in command. If anyone here has any experience in running a ship, any ship, please report to the appropriate department. I'm especially looking for someone who can keep an eye on a standard singularity core. Also communications, medical - anything, really, it's just me and Tovan Khev up here. Thanks." He switched the intercom off. There, that should have been folksy enough. Having to explain things to Tovan's going to be bad enough.
The Emerald Fire's engines lit, and the little ship moved slowly away from the debris field that had been concealing it. As Nniol began to familiarize himself with the ship's maneuvering capabilities, the lift door hissed open and Tovan emerged. "I've got a skeleton crew in Engineering," he reported. "They used to work on the colony's power plant, so they at least know something about what the gauges mean. We're pretty much unstaffed everywhere else. I've managed to boost the torpedoes, though - there's a capacitance system wired in, so every so often it'll build up enough charge to fire off a heavy torp. And there's a repulsor field that charges off the quantum uncertainty values of the singularity, so it recharges while we're in combat. Not much, but it might be enough to distract someone while we rescue the survivors. We, um, are going to go rescue the survivors, right?"
"Like I'd let them fall into the hands of the Tal Shiar. There's nobody in Virinat that I hate that badly."
Tovan took the communication officer's seat. "I'm getting a lot of hails on the emergency channels," he said. "I've highlighted the locations on your HUD, so you can pick your targets. Oh, and full impulse is online now."
"Good. I'd hate to keep them waiting." Nniol slid controls, and the ship accelerated smoothly toward the nearest signal, a bulk carrier under attack by a single drone. The lightly-shielded robotic craft made it through only a single barrage from the Emerald Fire's guns, before exploding in a gout of flame. Quickly, Tovan beamed the survivors aboard; when scans showed the cargo ship was empty, Nniol turned to his next target. This was a bit more challenging, as the drone was accompanied by a T'varo-class ship, but given that it was little more capable than the T'liss-class Fire, and that the Fire sported augmented weaponry, the battle wasn't so very much longer. They had rescued the occupants of three ships, and Nniol had begun to worry about the Fire's total capacity, when the screens were abruptly dominated by an ugly black-and-green shape.
"It's a spacecraft," Tovan reported, "but not of any design I've ever heard of. Computer's coming up empty, too. I recommend we get in a little closer and scan it."
"Just what I'd been thinking. Keep those shields up, though."
The Fire moved closer to the alien craft. Nniol activated the main scanners - and the ship was buffeted by energy waves. "Deflectors are offline!" Tovan shouted. "Weapons, too! I can't even get the ship to move now!"
"Tovan!" Nniol called. "Signal that ship! Ask them what they want!"
Tovan complied, then held the earpiece to his ear. "They're replying," he said, "but it's just part of our broadcast, chopped up."
"On speakers."
The ship's speakers hissed with static, and the oddly modulated tones of what had been Tovan's voice, modified by the alien craft: "Want... you. Want... ship."
"Well, that's not good," Nniol said.
"It gets worse," Tovan replied. "There's a Tal Shiar ship uncloaking."
As the great D'Deridex-class battleship wavered into visibility, the enormous black alien craft peeled away.
"They're calling us," Tovan said.
"Put them on the screen. Let's see just how bad it's getting."
A face appeared on the viewer; a face Nniol hadn't seen in almost ten years, one he'd hoped never to see again. The bald visage of once-Captain Hakeev leered at them. "I'd heard from our Elachi allies," he said, "that some of the 'colonists' on this world had escaped them. But you cannot escape your obligations." Then Hakeev leaned closer to his screen. "You! You look familiar. tr'Keiniadh, isn't it?"
"You know who I am, Hakeev. How in the Elements' Names did you find me here?"
Hakeev laughed. "Oh, vain little man. You think this is about you? I have much greater ambitions than that, and much greater concerns than any petty revenge you might be seeking. Finding you here, and at my mercy, is just a bonus. Would you like to surrender now?"
"Surrender this! Tovan, kill that channel! Full power to weapons!"
The plasma banks spat emerald lines of destruction toward Hakeev's ship, as a ball of plasma formed in the torpedo emitter. At that moment, another craft uncloaked as well.
"This is Commander Temer of the Romulan Republic. We have come in response to a distress call from this colony. Tal Shiar ship, stand down and prepare to be boarded."
Hakeev's ship replied with the fire that had once been intended for Nniol. Temer's craft responded in kind, and the Fire joined in from the other side. The great double-hulled battleship shuddered under the impact of the other ships' weapons. Abruptly, the screen flared back to life, Hakeev wincing and snarling.
"So, the insect still has a sting! I have other meetings to attend, but know this, tr'Keiniadh - you have cost me an eye, and I will claim its price from you in full! When there are no others to protect you from me--"
"I don't need anyone's protection, Hakeev. Now get out of my sky!"
The D'Deridex, which had already been pulling away, abruptly jumped to warp; Nniol didn't think for a moment that his demeanor had had anything to do with it, but it would have been nice to believe.
"The other ship's hailing us," Tovan said.
"Put them on."
"Greetings, Emerald Fire," Temer said. "As I said earlier, we came in response to a distress signal. What happened?"
"A Tal Shiar attack. Virinat's a peaceful farming settlement, but they came in shooting, and they had some aliens working with them that we'd never seen before. We've got holds full of refugees, and there are a lot of other ships out here too. Some of 'em are going to be running short on air very soon. Any chance of a rescue fleet?"
"I'll signal the Flotilla immediately. We should have ships here inside the hour. Meanwhile, I would like to invite you to come to the Flotilla and discuss the situation. We just might be able to help one another."
"Well, I'm none too keen on being drawn into your war, but then again it doesn't look like I've got a lot of options. Send us the coordinates, and we'll meet you there. Emerald Fire out."
Tovan's fingers played over his console. "Okay, they've relayed the coordinates to us, and I've laid in a course. At top speed, we should be there in about three hours, give or take." He leaned back in his seat, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Which means we've got some time. You promised me a story, if we got through that mess back there."
"Now, now, I never said I promised anything." Nniol pretended to flinch under Tovan's glare. "But you're right, I do owe you that much." He sighed. "Okay, the short version first - we can spin out the whole thing over drinks later, if you insist. It was back about ten years ago or so; I used to be in the Imperial fleet, a Subcommander. I was chief science officer of the Nneirh - not a prestigious posting, but a good one, and my family didn't have the connections to get me on one of the big ships. Hakeev was just a captain in the Tal Shiar back then, but he was working with Praetor Taris on some big project. He was using our ship as a base for a mission, and I'd detected some odd radiation emissions coming from the cargo bays. I checked them out, and found evidence that Hakeev was working with non-Romulans. Didn't have anything else to go on, but I reported what I did have to the Commander. Next away mission, she was dead, supposedly from a failure of her EV suit. Except those things are tougher than our ships - that suit should have been good for another five years continuous duty. So the first officer took over - and after I talked to him, he died. So we headed to dock - and the dockmaster and station commander were arrested for 'actions against the Empire', only no charges were ever filed, they just disappeared. Then a Senator, someone whose only sin had been to speak to me after we returned, turned up dead. And then a cargo transport tried to fall on my head, and a random shot in a crowd missed me because I'd bent over to pick up a coin, and someone tried to knife me but didn't know how good I was at infighting, and it became clear these weren't random occurrences. Someone wanted anybody who knew about those transmissions dead." Nniol rubbed his forehead. "So I took off. Abandoned my post, left the Empire, started looking for any work in space that kept me away from anywhere the Tal Shiar might find me. I ran ale with a Ferengi trader to Argelius, smuggled black tar from Risa to Qo'noS for somebody named Torg, shifted cargo for anybody who didn't look like me, and tried to drown the memories. When D'vex caught up with me, I was broke, unemployed, and exploring the bottom of a mug of Klingon bloodwine on Drozana Station out in the TRIBBLE-end of nowhere. He convinced me that if I came back with him, I could get a fresh start, where nobody would ever look for me." He looked away. "I guess he was wrong. This is all my fault."
"Self-centered much?" Tovan snorted. "Or were you just too busy reliving the past to listen when Hakeev was talking? He wasn't looking for you! He didn't even know you were here! It's the Elements' own joke that you just happened to come along! And the punchline was the Republic ship showing up - I mean, now that he does know where to find you, I guess it's nice that we've got some backup too. I think when we get to the Flotilla, I'm going to sign up. It's not like I can just go home, after all. How about you? Might be a good idea."
Nniol sighed. "It just might be, at that. Think they'll let me keep the ship? I mean, since I have military experience and all?"
*
?Well?I suppose the best place to start is the beginning?
*
My first officer and I were on a training assignment with the new captain of the Danube. She had just been commissioned and we were to train her senior staff. We left the Artemis, with Eight in command, and were onboard the Danube about two days when an Orion battleship dropped out of nowhere and began attacking the ship. Being a light frigate, the Danube didn?t have enough firepower alone to destroy the Orion?s ship, but we managed to disable their weapons and they fled. However, unknown to us, they had scored a crucial hit on our plasma injectors causing the warp core to overload minutes later, that?s where it got?strange.?
*
*****
*
*Computer Voice: Warp core breach in two minutes, forty-five seconds*
*
?This is the captain, all hands to escape pods, abandon ship!!?
The bridge shakes violently, throwing Captain Foley off his feet and causing consoles all over the bridge to explode, throwing sparks and fiber cables everywhere. As Ryan starts to get up he sees the captain of the Danube slumped dead in his chair, metal sticking into his chest.
*Computer Voice: Warp core breach in one minute, twenty seconds*
*
As Ryan heads to the last escape pod on the bridge, he is hit in the head and falls to the floor unconscious.
~~~~
?Wow, that sounds like it was intense Ryan, then what happened?? The Trill asks Ryan.
*
?Well??
~~~~
Ryan slowly opens his eyes, blinking rapidly as a rush of pain forces him to grab his head, but it feels wet. He looks at his hand and it has some blood on it.
?Leave it alone sir. You?ll make it worse. I haven?t fixed you a permanent bandage yet, this escape pod is being?difficult.?
Foley looks up to see his first officer pressing on the lone keypad in the pod.
?Toz, what?.how did I end up in here with you??
*
?Well, that?s no way to talk to your rescuer? she replies with a slight smile. ?After making sure that engineering was cleared, I headed to the bridge. By the time I made it, I saw Captain F?raK dead, and you were out on the floor bleeding. I picked you up and got us to the escape pod on the bridge. And here we are, three hours later.? Tozra tells Ryan.
*
?Well, I guess I owe you one?.more? Ryan replies to her with a slight laugh then a groan as he starts to grab his head again. Tozra slaps his hand. ?Next time you touch it, you better be dying or I will make sure you wish you were?sir? They both laugh.
?Honestly Toz, thank you. I know I have said it before, but you are without a doubt the finest first officer I have had, and don?t let Eight know that or she?d be crushed. You will make a fine captain someday.? Ryan says.
*
*****
~~~~
?Well captain, it sounds like you and your executive officer have an understanding. Has it always been this way? The Trill asks.
*
?Absolutely not. When she first came on board, her Andorian temper would get the best of her more often than not. But I could see so much raw potential that I had to keep trying.? Foley replies.
*
?I see? the Trill makes notes on her PADD. ?Please go on with the mission?
*
Ryan takes a drink of water and proceeds
~~~~
?I can?t believe that the medkit got destroyed somehow.? Tozra says as she tears a piece of her undershirt to finish wrapping Foley?s head.
?Toz, that is a violation of Starfleet?s uniform code. I may have to report you? Ryan says with a laugh.
?And I may have to let you bleed? She says back laughing too.
*
?How long has it been sir??
*
?Oh only thirty-eight hours, give or take.?
*
?No, since Vega.? Toz looks at Ryan with a seriousness he?s rarely seen.
*
?Well?? Ryan sighs heavily. ??not long enough. The fact I am where I am already is purely luck. I seem to be lucky with many things, but that day?takes the cake. I would gladly give up what I have to have Captain Stevens back, to have all of them back. Taking command of a ship as a fresh ensign is, hard. The Borg did not care, did not want to talk. I knew of their brutality and lifelessness but to experience it first hand was terrifying?.? As Ryan looked up he saw something he had never seen before, serious concern. Tozra had never shown it in her eyes before.
?Captain, I have to confess something to you. This is something that isn?t easy to say, and I don?t take it lightly. I don?t just see you as my commanding officer, I see you as a friend.? Tozra chokes as she says it, clearly making herself say it.
*
Ryan hesitates for a second, clearly unprepared for a statement like this.
?Toz, first off, I know that was difficult knowing you. Second, as a captain, I can?t do my job without your support. The way I see it, you have always been trustworthy, loyal, and open with me. You have trusted me with my orders and if you did have a concern, you were respectful enough to talk to me in private. You have always been a trusted friend to me.? Ryan says back.
*
Overwhelmed with relief, Tozra extends her hand out to shake Ryan?s.
Ryan reciprocates and they laugh.
*
About an hour and a half later a ship shows up and the pods are rescued. After arriving at Starbase 57, Foley, along with everyone else is ordered to go through a counseling session. Like all captain?s he is hesitant and finds the whole ordeal pointless.
*
??and that?s where we are now.? Ryan says finishing his story.
The Trill woman sits there for a moment and then looks up at Ryan.
*
?First off, you?re the first captain to open up to me in a long time.?
*
Ryan immediately grows a look of concern
?Don?t worry, I won?t tell anyone that? she chuckles. ?But most importantly, I think we got to the root of a problem and found strength. You can?t forgive yourself for what happened to your command officers at Vega, and you can trust others for strength. I would like to request you make it back here at least once a month. I will put it into writing and command will approve it, so it?s more of an order.? The Trill smiles.
?Actually, if that?s the case, I have a better idea.? Foley rebuttals.
*
?Lt. Commander Hita reporting sir.? the Trill says as she steps onto the bridge of the Artemis.
*
?Welcome aboard counselor.? Foley says.
-may have to edit due to quotations-
*
ISC Prime. The whole world was basically a bustling city. It's tall buildings reflected the large ideals the Concordium held. Despite the fact that the Concordium has tried, and failed, at bringing the galaxy up to the high standards of peace, their spirits still endured knowing that one day true peace will rise up from the chaos of the galaxy.
Within the Hall of the Holders, representatives of each race sat around a large oak wood table, listening to the leader of the Pacification Army, Grand Admiral Jyromec Crostier.
"...and once again, the Federation has proven that their mission of peace is futile as they have yet again declared war against the Klingon Empire! Although I'm sure every one of you can agree, the hostility of the Klingons is great. But time and time again the Federation has made peace with this race of brutes only to break their paper thin treaties and wage yet another pointless war! We can not simply stand by and watch as the galaxy burns once again under the boots of war from these barbarians. I beseech of the wisdom of the great leaders of the Interstellar Concordium, Holders of the Declaration of Ideals: it is time, once again, that we act. We must show the blind children of this galaxy true peace. Without our power and morals, this galaxy will be strung in an endless cycle of wars and grievous bloody battles."
The Holders looked at each other, muttering amongst themselves until finally the head of the council, Misac Rohlm, stood up. His great height reflected his old age and the immense wisdom that came with all those years of life. He looked down toward Jyromec, "Holder Nezzcal wishes to speak."
As Misac took his seat, the Xindi-Arboreal stood up and straightened his flowing white robes, "Grand Admiral, your words speak great volumes. However, after our encounters with the Dominion, are you sure the Pacification Army would be able to withstand yet another series of battles?"
Jyromec opened his mouth, only to be halted by Nezzcal's raised hand, "Not only that, but I want to be sure that the civil population will not be affected by this. It is without a doubt that the population of the planets we had to retake from the Dominion are still emotionally shaken. To embark on a second Pacification Campaign can cause great unrest if we are not prepared."
After finishing his last sentence, Nezzcal nodded his hairy head and took his seat.
He faced Misac and said, "That is my statement."
Misac nodded in turn and turned his attention back to Jyromec, his amphibian eyes staring down at the Grand Admiral, "Your response, Grand Admiral?"
Jyromec looked up to Nezzcal, "Holder Nezzcal, you are a great man and I respect your statement. So I will take this opportunity to assure not only you, but the Concordium in itself, that I can say without hesitation that the Pacification Army is more ready for any resistance than it will ever be. Our resolve has endured for centuries, our technology has greatened, and our military strength will overwhelm anything that can ever be foolish enough to resist our movement."
Jyromec's eyes scanned the council, looking directly at every one of them, "And if I fail, I will personally take responsibility for tainting the good name and the ideals of the Interstellar Concordium."
The Holders once again turned to each other and began muttering, discussing the words that were just spoken. After a few minutes, they finally turned to face the Grand Admiral once more.
"We will consider your request," Misac said.
Jyromec said nothing, biting back the protests that were rising up within him. Nonetheless, most of the races within the Concordium were telepathic and thus represented among the Holders. He knew his concerns would be addressed regardless on how he delivered them.
So, he merely bowed and turned on his heel to march out of the council room.
Days passed since the day the Grand Admiral stood before the Holders. But on the 20th day of June 2407, the Interstellar Concordium formally declared the start of the Second Pacification Campaign, authorizing Grand Admiral Jyromec Crostier of the Pacification Army to use whatever force necessary to bring about galactic peace.
"Should any world impede on our campaign so much that achieving peace is impossible, then our only option is complete and total eradication of that world and its citizens to prevent the cancer of barbarism from spreading throughout the galaxy once more." -Grand Admiral Jyromec Crostier
The sea breeze blowing in off the bay seemed to animate everyone, bringing smiles where somber expressions might have lingered, laughter to otherwise bland jokes, and giving a general feeling of relief to the various humanoid species that inhabited the buildings surrounding the small bay. It was the sort of pleasant reminder that many needed when the sun seemed to be getting too hot upon the beach, or the surrounding jungle too close.
Of course, that was precisely the intent of the advanced systems that monitored and controlled the weather on Risa, and if anything could be said to motivate the artifical minds that eyed data ranging from the humidity at rock formations in Galartha to the levels of trace elements emitted by shuttles crossing the stratosphere, it was the determination that every day would be a paradise for those on the surface.
Rubbing at the loose clothing he had been encouraged to wear for the visit to the vacation world, Subcommander Tosik could not help but marvel at how comfortable the simple outfit had remained in the tropical climate. Had he worn his usual Republic uniform, there was little doubt he would be dehydrated and enjoying his stay far less than he had so far. Clearly, it had been a good idea to accept the suggestions of the Hospitality Association, even if they were not rihannsu.
Accepting the wrapped object from the merchant he had just paid, Tosik turned back to see his companion looking over the people walking through the small open-walled building where the Association had allowed native traders to set up shop. In contrast to the light clothing of the small crowd, Master Engineer Xa'Jev's black bodysuit stood out as much as the cybernetics that marked his massive frame as that of a Meguli. Tosik knew that the sealed clothing was a necessary precaution against humidity damaging more sensitive devices under it, but failed to comprehend how the alien could stand the heat that had to be building under the sun that stood high overhead.
Xa'Jev's goggled head swiveled to look at Tosik as the Engineer's voicebox spoke in a synthetic version of deep Standard. "These do not protect from solar radiation exposure. These not harmful of star local?"
Tosik shook his head as he puzzled out the meaning of his fellow officer. "No. They like the sun, and are not harmed by it unless they stay unprotected for long periods of time. You did read the report before we beamed down, didn't you?"
The Engineer's voicebox gave a short click that passed for a snort among the Meguli. "This one better time to use. Only at location/time/position to verify transaction engine warp from Federation empirestate. Commander's orders." Then the big alien's gaze fell on the wrapped bundle in Tosik's hand as he fell in beside the Science Officer, walking carefully through the crowd. "Identification request, transaction result?"
Tosik balanced the object in his hand. "A native statuette they call a horga'hn. It has something to do with fertility beliefs, and I thought it might be useful to examine one when we return to the ship. At the very least, I'd like to see if it's related to any artifacts we've found on Mol'Rihan."
The Engineer gave another of the short clicks and shook his head in an expression he had picked up from the crew. Certainly, no self-respecting Meguli would have bothered to show inferior species that they were mystified by anything. "Incorrect instruction subset. Statue non-irradiating nature confirmed. Inhabitants faulty?"
"It's more of a tradition, I think." Tosik stopped to look over at several natives, noting their ease about being only barely decently attired among the various visitors to their world. "If I remember correctly, a person displaying a horga'hn is announcing their willingness to participate in a local ceremony dealing with...er....producing new natives." Tosik carefully made sure the wrapping was secure before he resumed walking.
"Research related subjects completed this one prior to landing." Xa'Jev waved a hand dismissively at the crowd. "Improved proceedure: manufacture replacements clone. More efficient. Illogical biological keep."
Tosik could not help but sigh as he rounded a corner and entered an open area food distribution center (a 'restaurant', wasn't it?). "Many species find it...preferable to keep their...um...traditions. You will just have to accept my word that they would not welcome...alterations like that."
"Indeed not." A voice he knew said from one side, and Tosik almost ground his teeth together as he turned to see the Human Augment Rycho leaning back in a nearby chair, each of his arms about a Risan female and a broad smile fastened to his face. "Many are great admirers of 'tradition'."
Ever since they had returned from their mission in the Pelia Sector, the Helmsman had kept an attitude of accomplishment about himself, and Tosik had increasingly wished he could put the Centurion back in his proper place as a lesser officer aboard the ship. When they had been ordered to Risa to allow the Commander to represent the Republic at the opening of a special resort for ship commanding officers in Starfleet, it was the desire to avoid any contact with Rycho that had driven Tosik to pursuade Xa'Jev to pass him off to the resort computer system as a ship commander.
Apparently, the Human had had his own interest in infiltrating the restricted area, and Tosik knew he could hardly call Security about the matter without his own presence being revealed as less than truthful.
Deciding the best option was still avoidance, Tosik turned and briskly walked to a random exit from the eating area, working to keep his irriation in check as he quickly left Xa'Jev behind. By the time he had his emotions fully in hand, he realized he was unsure where he was, or which way he could go to find the Engineer. Giving a mental shrug, he marched out of the alley he had found himself in, and entered a large open area that formed a courtyard for the main building of the resort.
His calm lasted only up to the point that Rycho stepped easily next to him from the corner of the alleyway and marched alongside nonchalantly. The Helmsman gave Tosik a half-smile. "I could not help but notice you have made a purchase. Would that be what I think it seems to be?"
Tosik frowned and refused to meet the other's gaze. "It is for research purposes. I do not have your standards in regards to planetary recreation."
Rycho gave a short laugh as he followed Tosik up a short flight of steps. "Ahh, I cannot help it if the women of this world recognize my superior qualities. Why would they not? I cannot hide what I am, as you Romulans try to."
Tosik stopped short of the closed doors at the top of the stairs and turned to the junior officer, his irritation fanning into aggravation. "Your 'superior qualities'? You think you, a mere human, can compare yourself to rihannsu? You forget your place!"
The Augment's face had lost its smile, and now Rycho stepped forwards to match Tosik's glare with his own. "Words I have heard before. From men who dared to believe themselves worthy to command my people! They did not realize how far beyond them we had been designed, how much better we were. Your race is no different, and even now, I see how you tremble in timidity at something not one of those who stood with me on Ceti Alpha Five would have blinked at!" Rycho looked at the covered sculpture in Tosik's hand. "You cannot even carry it unless it is concealed, like everything else about your culture. Your fear of discovery, your unwillingness to plan for anything but hiding what you wish, these are what make you Romulans inferior."
With each word, Tosik's anger had risen, and now it flared into outright action. He tore away the paper covering the horg'hn, and tossed the empty wrapping aside. "I am not afraid of this! I have nothing to hide! You are the one who hides what he wishes. Or do you think I am foolish enough to not know you want command of the R'uhuv? "
Rycho nodded easily, a mocking smile tugging at his face "Oh, I will command. I do not deny it...it is my right! But I will not take it from the worthy hand of my Commander. She is not like the rest of your deficient race, and I will Command only when she does not."
Tosik's anger turned to shock, then back to anger in a flash. "You....dare...to think...you...."
The Centurian's smile grew as he saw the greenish tint increasing in Tosik's face. He raised a hand casually, as if to accept the sculpture, and spoke in a whisper "You should allow me to remove that from your concern. I can put it to far better use than you ever could. After all, one of the qualities of a commander is the ability to plan proper strategy for any conquest."
Unbelieving in what he saw in his mind, the image of his Commander and this...animal..., Tosik swung the sculpture away from the Augment, his arm seeking to put it as far from him as possible. Half-blind with emotion, he all but screamed "You can have this when the moon falls from the sky!!"
"What is the meaning of this?"
The firm and uncompromising voice seized Tosik in his place. Twisting his head around, he saw a small group of Starfleet Admirals were stepping from the now-open doors at the top of the stairs. Several already stood looking down at him, their white dress uniforms in contrast to the casual clothing others at the resort had worn.
And, directly in front of them was his Commander, her own ceremonial robes shining in the midday sun. Her regal bearing and tilt of her head as she looked down at him took both his anger and his breath away as he stood frozen in confusion and disbelief.
Then he realized the hand with the horg'hn was pointed directly at her.
Thoughts began to cascade through his brain as he recalled the customs and traditions he had read before leaving the ship. To display a horg'hn was to invite participation in jamaharon. To present it to someone was to......
In a panic, he looked back to Rycho, only to find that the helmsman had disappeared. He was alone on the steps, and from the lack of comment by the assembled Admirals, he realized Rycho had angled Tosik to be the one they fixated upon when they emerged from the meeting room beyond the doors.
Looking back to his Commander, he tried to speak "C...Commander! I....this isn't...."
The Commander coolly looked from the statue now dangling from Tosik's almost nerveless hand to his shocked face before saying "We will discuss this in my ready room. In private. Return to the ship, Subcommander."
Blinking, Tosik fumbled his first attempt to use his communicator, then found the right key. "T..Tosik to R'uhuv. One to....beam up....now."
The last thing he heard as the transporter beam took him was a Federation Admiral asking his Commander "One of yours, I take it?"
_______________________________________________
Unseen in the bushes by the courtyard, Rycho's smile broadened as he heard the exchange, only wishing he could have risked watching the end results of his plan. The Science Officer had been a problem for the last few weeks, but now would understand how outmatched he was against Rycho's superior intellect and reflexes. Yes, it would be far better from now on aboard his ship.
Risking a glance through a break in the vegetation after the whine of the transporter had faded, he saw his Commander speaking with one of the Federation officers. No doubt apologizing for the actions of one misguided officer. He regretted putting her in this position, for he truely did respect her, but the opportunity to take Tosik down a peg or two could not have been passed. As he watched, she lifted her own communicator and spoke into it too softly for his enhanced hearing to pick out.
Shrugging, he turned and walked away. That she suspected nothing was enough. It was to be expected, after all. She, also, could not match his engineered superiority, and this was not her fault.
He was still thinking this when the transporter beam took him completely by surprise, and he had barely a second to recognize the distinctive whine of the R'uhuv's beaming frequency before he, also, vanished from sight.
__________________________________________________
In the oldest eyes there's a soul so young.
In the shakiest will there's a core of steel.
On the smoothest ride there's a squeaky wheel.
In the sweetest child there's a vicious streak.
In the strongest men there is a child so weak.
In the whole wide world there's no magic place
so you might as well rise.
Put on your bravest face."
Neil Peart, 21st century musician
"at what point, does a traitor become a patriot, and a patriot a traitor?"
This was the question. The answer, sadly was much harder to come by. General T'maekh Rylov (retired) pondered this as he piloted the shuttle craft through the shield portal. Given his rank and reputation he was cleared for such solo jaunts, even as paranoid as the Tal'Shiar was. Sometimes he found that he could think best away from other minds, just drifting observing the sweep of the galaxy outside the viewports. The experimentation with prisoners he had found distasteful, but he was told repeatedly it was necessary. Not that they really cared for his opinion, after all he was but a historian now. But this...this would tamper with the very soul of the Rihannsu. Even the Empress could see that, at least once he thought so. Now however... There was no choice, this had to be stopped. But how?
Ferlan system, USS Agamemnon
"Ships Log, First officer Mirra Olaneov reporting. It's been twenty seven hours since Captain Evan's shuttle was due to return from a medical conference on Starbase 39. We have joined up with the USS Dauntless in searching for the Captain, it's not like Rhonda to vanish like this. Commander Schrodinger of the Dauntless thinks she may have picked up a trace hit on some faint tachyon emissions that may have come from the Captains shuttle craft, they are investigating that lead while we backtrack, checking systems between our rendezvous point and the Starbase-"
"Sir, I'm picking up something"
Mirra paused the log recording, the Andorian looking up "What is it?"
The tactical officer, a young Lt from Denali peered at her readings, brushing her bangs out of her eyes "picking up a small craft, shuttle craft size, but not one of ours..."
"Who's then?"
"getting a visual, Romulan Sir" Sachen said, her fingers automatically sliding over to the weapons panel "not New Romulus romulan either according to the markings. One lifeform on board, Romulan."
|Calm down Lieutenant, it's only a shuttlecraft." she thought for a moment "hail them, maybe they've seen something."
"Sir?"
"one thing I picked up from Captain Evans, it never hurts to ask nicely."
He never expected to run into a Federation capital ship here. Yes it was an older Galaxy class, but still quite formidable. But what he really did not expect was a polite hail. "This is the USS Agamemnon We apologize if we are intruding in your system, but we are searching for a missing shuttlecraft carrying our Captain, she was returning from a medical conference. Have you seen any sign of the ship?"
"some questions answer themselves." he thought, his dilemma on what to do resolved as he responded. "this is T'maekh Rylov. Is your captain Human looking, 1.58 meters height, white hair and covered in black fur?"
Seeing the looks on the bridge of the Federation ship he simply nodded "I assume by your expressions the answer is yes. We must speak."
Thirty minutes later.
The Dauntless had rejoined the Agamemnon, it's captain beamed over to confer with their 'guest'. Rylov had not been disarmed, though the two very not pleasant looking security goons behind him made him sure that they were not very happy to have him that way. As soon as the Dauntless captain joined them, a spotted Caitian who almost reeked of that foul stimulant that humans drank, 'kaffee' or something like that, the Agamemnon's First Officer who up until now had been silent turned to him "Alright, what in the frozen TRIBBLE is going on?"
"Some months ago, the Tal'Shiar had managed to acquire several thousand personnel files of your officers, and of KDF officers as well. Naturally they were looked into, both for tactical value and to find information that could be useful. Such as your captain being a refugee from another time line, and her medical records from her arrival in our timeline"
"I don't understand, Why would they want her over that? I knew she had some kind of genetic condition that was killing her, that they fixed, but she never really went into details."
"Because the records were sealed, however the Tal'Shiar are Very resourceful" Rylov replied, placing a data chip on the briefing table "it was kept quiet as these abilities were eliminated when Starfleet doctors cured her of the mutagenic virus that was destabilizing her DNA."
Mirra looked over the chip as if it was a live weasel, but it was standard Starfleet Issue as he continued "the Audio sadly was not recovered, but the video was more than enough to interest my superiors." She put the chip in, and saw security images of a shuttle bay in Starfleet Headquarters, time stamped over six years ago. There was a bright flare, and a portal opening in the middle of the bay. As two security guards rush towards it, a figure emerges.
"It's her.." Mirra says as she watches wide eyed. "younger though"
"looks like she was pushed too" Commander Schrodinger adds, sure enough there can be seen a blue fur covered hand sticking out of the portal for a moment. The figure turns yelling something at the portal just as there is a wave from the hand, then the portal collapses. Then all hell breaks loose.
Rylov glances over his shoulders at the Security goons |it would seem that security forces the galaxy over are...overzealous one could say." as one of the ones on the viewer fire a phaser at the black and white and red clad figure, no the red isn't part of the outfit, but blood. "Wounded, disoriented, pulled out of the middle of an intense battle and thrown elsewhere, it is amazing she did not kill anyone." there is silence in the briefing room as the wounded girl fires what looks like plasma blasts from her hands, cutting through the Security forces. One ducks into one of the shuttlecraft, taking off and bringing the shuttle's weapons to bear, only to see her shout something at the ship..then take off into the air after it before the screen went blank.
"from the report, she fired a blast that went through the shuttles shields and disabled it, bringing it down, before passing out herself. Naturally you can see why she came to the attention of the Tal'Shiar when they saw this, especially since they wish to use this in their research based on the work or Dr Amar Singh."
"oh TRIBBLE."
"Oh TRIBBLE, indeed."
T'rakat System
"What do you mean you haven't found anything abnormal? You've seen the reports!"
He tried not to sweat "other than some changes from a tailored retrovirus, such as is used to repair genetic defects, we can find nothing markedly abnormal in the specimen's DNA"
Colonel S'tarna frowned at the Centurion before her "It is obvious that the humans have only suppressed her abilities, they would not give up such a weapon as this, nor would she have given up such power..Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way. The answer may not lie in her cells, but in her head. Have her prepped for telepathic interrogation. I will go in myself and rip the secrets from her mind."
USS Agamemnon
He watched the argument with a jaundiced eye. Part of him thought himself a fool for not just going to New Romulus, or the Reman Obisek. While he had many qualities he found distasteful, sitting around discussing when action was called for was not one of them. But the Federation had always preferred words over action, at least he had seen during his long career fighting both against and alongside them.
"the shields are too well defended, there's no way your idea will work Schrodinger! We've sent messages, once we get reinforcements-"
"Which at maximum warp could be either hours or days away-most of them are dealing with a Borg incursion. If you want her back before they mind rip or dissect her to find out what they want we don't have time to waste." Schrodi stood up , her tail tip twitching "allright, the plan is a little risky-"
"A LITTLE? Not to mention the potential environmental damage-"
"To what's basically a dead rock that the Tal Shiar have a base on? Besides, I've run the simulations three times, it's well within stress limits."
It was time to speak "And it is audacious" He stood and walked over to the display on the monitor "if the Commander's helmsman is as good as she says, this will work."
That seemed to mollify the Agamemnon?s XO slightly "isn't that the word you used to describe the attack of the United Earth fleet at the battle of Cheron, as well as General Martoks defense at the Battle of Mempa?" she asked.
That caused him to raise an eyebrow "I had heard that my minor scribblings were translated and disseminated outside of Romulus but I was not familiar with how widely they may have been known."
Mirra smiled, the first one she'd had in a while "your work is highly regarded as an evenhanded review of historical battles. It is on the Starfleet Academy reading list, and I believe the KDF as well-though I think their translation lists the Klingon translator as the author."
Rylov just snorted "That somehow does not surprise me." He turned to Schrodinger "are you sure your helmsman is good? Your timing must be perfect."
Everyone looked at the Caitian, who was in a conversation with herself seemingly, before her eyes regained focus "we just went over it a fourth time, we'll have plenty of clearance- and yes, Poonta is that good. it will be a piece of cake!"
T'rakat System
The Ulhan was bored. Traffic control wasn't exactly a busy position on a isolated world such as this, and one locked as tight at T'rakat...well there was a lot of free time for study, or reading some of the more, questionable data chips that he had picked up from a slightly sleazy Ferengi merchant on Dronza station. Fortunately Subcommander T'ral wasn't here, she would not be amused by his choice in reading material. As he was engrossed in his entertainment, one of the consoles chirped for attention. Scowling, he glanced up, then hit the button to silence the alarm-an automated supply shuttle was leaving the shielded area for a run to a lab on one of the outer moons, as it did every few hours. The light changed color, as a section of the shield shut off to allow passage.
Suddenly the sky overhead lit with a flash, causing him to drop his view pad and look up. The air roiled and churned as lightning and plasma discharges lit the sky and was that a streak of light ...as if something had warped into the atmosphere? No, couldn't be , that was insane..
USS Dauntless
"This is Insane!" yelled the Tellerite at the helm, the Defiant class ship dropping out of warp a mere ten kilometers from the planets surface. The energy from the ships momentum had literally turned the clouds around them into a roiling fiery mass, ionizing a good portion of the planet's upper atmosphere in the process. "Shields at fifty percent, targets locked," said the trill at the weapons console, not waiting for orders as the ship shuddered from the torpedoes leaving the tubes , streaking down towards the shield generators on the horizon as the expanding shock wave from their entry spread around the ship like a halo. Then there was the other problem. While the Defiant ships may look aerodynamic, in reality they tended to behave in an atmosphere, and this close to the ground, like a duck with a lead plate strapped to its butt.
"Last torp away, lets get out of here!"
Ponta kept her hands on the warp control, but didn't activate them "we can warp now, anytime now, Ponta?"
"the bow is still below the horizon, we warp now we'll make a nice sized crater" she muttered, hitting the thrusters trying to bring the nose up, as the readout on the altitude continued to unwind..."don't blame me that the ships TRIBBLE is as big as yours Cap'n"
The shock wave had knocked the Uhlan to the ground, as well as flattened several of the out buildings. He looked up to see what was going on, it was obviously an attack, an orbital bombardment, but how could they penetrate the shields....his eyes grew wide as he saw the flame shrouded shape falling overhead as the air grew hotter. Finally when it was seemingly about to hit there was another flash, and a light trail heading over the horizon, the friction from which fried him where he was standing.
USS Agamemnon
"I'll be dammed, it worked"
Mirra sat in her first officers seat, it was more comfortable to her, and she could better access her tactical readouts there "and there's two, no three, make that four ships dropping out of cloak and going to warp pursuing the Dauntless...damn."
"It was an acceptable risk, and the best way to flush out the picket ships in orbit, as well as take down the shields." Rylov replied as the Agamemnon warped into the system "as long as the Dauntless does not try to engage them but leads them on a chase, that will buy enough time to grab your captain and get out of here." he said as he headed to the turbolift, Sachen and two others with him "hopefully in the chaos we can get her without any further bloodshed."
The first officer nodded "I hope, good luck General."
He just smiled grimly "thank you, we may need it."
USS Dauntless
They were away, but barely. "How bad is it?" Schrodi asked as panels in the back of the bridge sparked and smoked, they really needed to stop making those out of flammable materials.
"Shields at 27 percent, and we're losing calibration on the injectors, the stress from the gravity well damaged three of the crystals, if we don't drop out of warp in the next few minutes the engines will do it for us when they fail."
"weapons?"
"Torpedoes are reloaded" replied Ponta , the tellarite woman grumbling "and we've got four Romulan vessels in pursuit, looks like a T'varro, two Mogai and a D'Deridex..seems you've gotten their attention."
T'rakat System
It was chaos. Oh sure , it was a Tal'shiar outpost, but the majority of the personnel were scientists, half of them were panicking over the attack, and the other half were trying to get data on just what had happened when Rylov and the two Vulcan security officers dressed in Romulan uniforms beamed down. He had managed to take two steps before one of the scientists ran up to him.
"General! Thank the great bird you are here, there's been a catastrophe! A comet fragment has exploded in the upper atomosphere-"
he was cut off by a second scientist "Comet? no, it was a ship warping into the atmosphere-"
"that would be insane" the first scientist argued. Rylov cut them both off "Where is Colonel S'tarna?"
"she is in lab seventeen Sir" replied a harried Centurion, who was busy trying to herd the scientists to shelter "would you like an escort?"
"No, I know the way, continue with your duties."
The Centurion saluted and turned to the scientists, herding them down the corridor while they continued to argue with each other. "Seventeen, I should have known she would take her there."
"whats in that lab?" replied one of the 'romulans' in Saschen's voice, the holoemitter disgisuse giving nary a flicker as they moved quickly down the emptying corridors, the inhabitants of the base evacuating to shelters.
"Telepathic interrogation. Are either of you skilled in that use of the mind?" Saschen shook her head "I'm basicly just an augmented human Sir" the Denali colonist replied while the other one who was Vulcan nodded "More in how to resist such an intrusion, General."
He nodded as he led the two disguised Starfleet officers into the lift with a pained expression on his face. "Just as well, it should be me that confronts S'tarna over this. She is my wife after all..."
USS Dauntless
It had seemed like a good bolt hole at first, system so far off the beaten path it did not even have a name, just the designation NGC 23591. How were they to know it was also known to the Tal'Shiar, and the massive field of asteroids held another small lab? So now they had six Romulan vessels on them. To add to the fun, some of the asteroids were filled with pockets of meteron gas, the warp drive was offline, the inertial dampers were barely keeping up with Ponta's seemingly insane maneuvering through the asteroids, and the coffee maker was broken. The only bright spot was the gas and asteroids was keeping the larger Romulan ships out of the fight at the moment, the two, no now three D'Deridex warbirds out of range at the edge of the field. They had gotten the T'varro by dropping mines as soon as they came out of warp then igniting a gas pocket behind them with the aft phasers. The first Mogai had tried to follow the nimble Dauntless through a gap that was closing as two several kilometer wide asteroids rolled towards each other, with predictable results. The last one on the other hand, had a much better pilot at the helm.
"Shields at ten percent"
"You'd think the computer would at least sound worried" Schrodi muttered as she continued her scanning, holding on to the arm of the captains chair with one hand as the Dauntless went inverted yet again following the terrain of one of the larger asteroids, plasma bolts from the Mogai behind them barely missing.
"Hope you got an idea soon Cap'n, running out of tricks up here " Ponta yelled over the din. Just about every light on the boards was red at this point.
"Workin on it...got it! Here's what we're gonna do..."
IRW Terrix
Colonel S'Tev Malor watched the battle just out of range. The smaller IRW D'vin was getting the range of the Federation intruder, when the human ship suddenly cut it's impulse drive, then spun 180 degrees while still going backwards through the asteroids from inertia?
"they must be insane!" his weapons officer said as the D'vin was caught by surprise, phaser cannons tearing through the ships shield and hull..as well as the meteron gas pocket it had pursued the fleeing ship through. The screen flared from the explosion, then the telltale implosion as the singularity core. "Damnation! Did they at least get the humans?"
"I'm not picking up either ship sir..."
USS Dauntless.
There were no lights. Or sounds for that matter other than moans as people slowly got to their feet. "Everyone ok?"
"Define ok." came a grumbled reply. Lt Davon helped Ponta to her feet carefully in the light gravity of the asteroid, the Klingon science officer then turning to her captain "Have I told you that you are insane?"
Schrodi opened one eye as the emergency lights came on , the other bloody from where panel fell from the ceiling of the bridge, cutting her scalp "Not today, no."
The blond Klingon woman laughed "you are inane, Sir." she said as she carefully pulled out a medical kit and helped her captain sit up. Schrodi just waved her off "no time for that, help the critical cases first. Ponta?"
"we're right where you wanted us Cap'n....500 meters underground in a cavern of frozen meteron gas."
She got to her feet, carefully as the ships grav was offline, taking a few seconds to come back down to the deck. "Told you it would work. Now we run silent for a while, and get what we can working again."
"you think maybe they'll think we're dead and leave?"
Davon shook her head "they are romulans, they are through, and will want proof."
"maybe we'll get lucky" said Schrodi as she carefully headed towards engineering.
Ponta snorted "yeah, and since you're wishing for the impossible, I'd like a pony."
T'rakat System
Lab seventeen was deep underground, like most of the facilities on this station. Fortunately the alarms by the Dauntless's attack on the shield generators and subsequent destruction of most of the above ground facilities took care of most of the security, being they were housed above ground. Rylov kept his weapon holstered, as did Sachen and Lt Sarna. Not as if anyone was going to challenge the General. "here we are" he said, tapping in a key code then frowning. "No access, I am not surprised. I had said that this line of research is wrong..as was most of what the Empress was doing of late."
"no worries" replied Sachen, pulling out her tricorder "These shouldn?t be too hard to hack..there we go." there was a click and the door slid open. The room was sparse, with several examination tables and on one of them-
"Captain!" Sachen rushed in, the naked black furred form on one of the tables unmoving, with a metallic helmet connected to cables to machinery in the room covering her head. She went to pull it off only to be stopped by the General "it is a Psionic enhancer, remove it while someone else is in her mind will kill her."
"but there's no one else in here-wait." Lt Sarna looked up at a window high on the wall, there was a female Romulan inside wearing an identical helmet. "I thought Romulan telepathy required touch, as Vulcans do?"
He shook his head "it is an Iconian device, used for subjects that are too dangerous for that. another thing that should have been left forgotten."
"so how do we get her out then?"
He walked over and looked at a spare helmet with revulsion "By going in after her. She can eject intruders from her mind, but the device prevents her from using free will" he says, flipping a couple buttons on a panel "which I have now rectified. I do not think we will be disturbed, but cover the door anyway." he said, taking a deep breath and putting the helmet on.
It was Earth. Oh not the earth of this dimension, for one it was on fire, and the technology was both far more primitive, and yet advanced. He was familiar with Terran culture, as both a general and a historian, but he knew such a massive statue of a human holding a globe on his shoulders had never been built in this time line. Alien ships appeared out of portals overhead, perhaps memories of the great battle Captain Evans was in before she was thrown into another time line, before everything shifted, the battle going away, the trees along the avenue green, with happy people walking and flying about as S'tarna went through another memory. Fortunately, he could easily hear his wife shouting at her captive, he sighed and steeled himself for what was to come. As he headed towards the center it shifted again, now a hospital like corridor, masked physicians walking to and fro, with far too many guards, some wearing skintight blue and yellow suits covering everything, including their faces. All ignored him as he followed the noise. S'tarna threw paper readouts across the room screaming down at Captain Evans who was shackled and kneeling before her
"How can you not know how to replicate how you were created?? she shrieked, not noticing the psychic shackles releasing. ?I WILL KNOW THE TRUTH!"
"S'tarna! That is enough!"
She whirled on him, eyes reflecting the madness he had denied to himself she had succumbed to for so long "T'maekh! Yes, you can get the answers from her!"
"I will not be a party to infecting the Rihannsu with this abomination" he said angrily.
"Abomination? But it is POWER! Power to DESTROY our enemies, to purge the Galaxy of all who have caused our people so much injury!"
"THAT WILL NOT BRING THEM BACK!" he roared in response "More killing, to claim vengeance for our son? He died on Romulus with billions of others. It is past, S'tarna. You could kill the entire galaxy, and it would not bring him back.."
"..an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind." came a hoarse voice. Rhonda got to her feet looking a bit worse for wear, S'tarna's eyes going wide, sliding further into madness "How can you..you! You did this, you traitor!" she snarled, unleashing her mind on T'makeh-only to have the attack blunted by Evans
"you're in mah head , remember?" she said as the memory around them shifted again. "You want the truth? The secret behind those powers ah used to have?"
S'tarna blinked, she was a child, no , older, seeing the memory first hand. "I was thirteen. It was a spring day, a few years after the first alien invasion up in New England, not that it was much of an impact in north Florida where ah lived." Rhonda said, as she and Rylov watched. S'tarna could do nothing but ride along inside the memory, following in the footsteps over four hundred years and another time line ago. "mah daddy was a game warden, he let us come along to get some pictures of some eagles that built a nest on top of a crashed alien ship. Was supposed to be safe..think he blamed himself for what happened."
"Like I blamed myself...for the death of my son." Said Rylov quietly.
"some things just happen" she replied, the scene shifting. "My brother was three years younger, and a brat. Always getting into things he shouldn?t..." they saw him find what he thought was a puppy and come back running with it to his sister...except the puppy was green and mutated. The creature that burst out of the palmettos after it's young was huge,a skunk once, mutated by the alien chemicals from the crashed ship
"I saved up two years of birthday money for that camera" Rhonda said, as S'tarna, stuck in the memory threw the Nikon SLR at the creature that was after her little brother, seeing it shatter as it hit it, then turn and come after her. S'tarna screamed as she felt the six inch fangs ripping through her, the mutagenic venom burning through her veins, hearing the thunder as Evans father burst through the bushes, firing his service pistol until it was empty. "so , you wanted the truth.? Rhonda said "it's nothing that you can copy. Nothing that you should copy...unless you want to see people in constant agony while the very thing that gives them the 'power' you crave...kills them slowly."
S'tarna screamed again then faded out as she disconnected from the iconian device. The memory faded around them as Rhonda smiled a bit "guess she couldn't handle the truth" she said before collapsing. Rylov ripped the helmet off of his head , blinking as his vision readjusted, Sachen looking at him curiously "done already? You just put it on..."
"yes, she's out" he says, pulling the helmet off of Evans. He glanced up at the window of the viewing room, there was no one there. He pondered for a second of going after her..but she was lost. The alarm klaxons began going off seconds later "it seems our welcome has worn out" he says, lifting the unconscious captain in his arms "lets go."
There was the familiar tingle of the transporter, and they were back on the Agamemnon. Rylov handed Evans over to Dr Mot, the Bolian waiting in the transporter room with a med team as Sachen hit the com "we're aboard Mirra, lets get out of here."
on the bridge Mirra turned to the helm only to hear a shout from tactical "Sir, we've got multiple incoming warp signatures!"
"oh TRIBBLE."
USS Dauntless, 4.7 hours later
Well she was right. The romulans were stubborn. Though taking something that handled like a waterbufflo on rollerskates like a D'Deridex into an asteroid field this dangerous is something Schrodi would
consider insane, the Romulans's fear of failure seemeed to be outweighing their better judgement. They had seen two of them passing by the opening to their hidey hole as they continued repairs. The drive was
back up, though for how long was an issue. Shields, sixty three percent, better than nothing. Staying put was not an option either as the warbirds had begun active scans, and lobbing the odd plasma torpedo
into asteroids here and there to shake things up. If that wasn't bad enough, the radiated heat from the Dauntless was melting the frozen meteron gas, forming a pocket around the ship. If they diddn't move
soon it would be moot.
"All hands, stand by."
Schrodi took her seat, wishing for the tenth time today that seat belts was something Starfleet believed in. If she got out of this, she'd mandate them on every station. "Ready Ponta?"
The tellarite nodded, her sprained leg splinted "ready to-oh TRIBBLE."
A shadow fell inside the opening of the cavern, as one of the warbirds moved over the entrance "We've got a problem."
"calm down, don't think they've spotted us.." the Warbird most likely did not, as it turned slowly so that it was facing away "it's running a sensor sweep, soon as they turn tho they'll have us."
Schrodi got quiet, looking over her shoulder Ponta saw that her eyes had that glazed over look she often did when she was coming up with something. "Stand by on the tractor beam" she said as she opened her
eyes, quickly punching in a quick programming change.
Lt Davon had worked with Schrodinger long enough not to question seemingly absurd orders "tractors standing by" she said, watching as the bow of the warbird slowly turned, untill it was pointing towards the
cavern.
"hotstart, nav lights on!"
there was a vibration in the decking as the drive restarted, the nacelles begining their normal blue glow, anticollison lights flashing in the darkness of the cavern.
IRW Sontal
"WE have them sir!" The Centurion mannning the helm yelled over his shoulder. Major T'rav simply smiled "Excellent, FIRE!" The ship barely lurched as the heavy plasma torpedo launched into the cavern in the
asteroid in front of them, the blinking lights of the Federation fools illuminating their demise.
USS Dauntless
"WE got incoming!"
"Ponta hit it! Lock on the torpedo with tractors!" Everyone grabbed something as the inertia dampers were still slightly out of sync, the Dauntless rocketing towards the incoming torpedo, the reprogrammed
tractors both slowing and moving it a few meters..As Poonta scraped the bottom of the cavern with the hull the missile barely passed over the top of the ship, heading towards the meteron gas pocket behind
them...
T'rav watched the readout, blinking "how the hell did you MISS?" he yelled as the Dauntless shot from the cave like a proverbial bat out of hell, passing between the upper and lower hull of the D'deridex,
the giant warbird lurching from the interactions between the shields. As soon as the Dauntless cleared the hull it pulled sharply up. Before he could even stand and give the order to pursue a bright light
caught his eye, before the meteron gas asteroid exploded through the opening in it's crust, ignited by the plasma torpedo detonating deep inside.
IRW Terrix
Colonel Malor cursed as the federation ship seemingly burst through the Sontal, the blast from the asteroid turning the once proud Warbird into a floating field of fried subatomic particles. Still, it seems
perhaps they had underestimated the explosive force of the frozen gas asteroids, as one after another began detonating, the Terrix climbing for saftey along with the other Warbird. At least the quarry was
flushed, time to end this.
USS Dauntless
The ship rocked and shuddered as asteroid after asteroid went up "I think that explosion took out a few more asteroids Sir!" Davon yelled over the din
"how many more?"
"All of them I think!"
She hung on as the ship shook like a dog thashing an old sock "we can't stay in here!"
"we get out, we're sitting ducks, shields won't hold under a warbird, much less two!"
Schrodi's ears folded back. "everyone dies eventualy, if it's our turn, lets do it on our feet."
There was a stillness on the bridge for a moment, despite the ship shuddering as the crew lookea at each other, and nodded
"Aye Aye Cap'n. helm ready!
"Torpdeos and phasers, cocked and locked!
"countermeasures online!"
"Engineering reports ready!"
Glancing at the static filled screen she took a deep breath. "lets dance."
IRW Terrix
He diddn't expect the humans would come out to fight, as much as they had been running. Still, it was better this way. This way he would have proof to take back to the Empress, rather polite of them to offer
themselves up. The Dauntless climbed out of the asteroid field, phaser cannons blazing as it roared seeminly on fire, trailing burning meteron gas it it's wake, the Terrix and R'ten returning fire. Phaser
cannon bursts smashed the R'ten's shields, allready damaged by the explosions, torpedos blazing through the opening impacting the warbirds hull. A valiant attempt, but not good enough as the plasma blasts
ripped through the weakend shields of the Dauntless, cutting along the allready charred hull. The R'ten pulled off, damaged by the attack but not down by a long shot as she retured fire again, this time a
burst disabling the already damaged engines of the aptly named Defiant class ship.
USS Dauntless
Everything was red, or out. Torpedos gone, phasers burned out and the drive...The computer still diddn't have the decency to sound worried about anything "shields failed, hull integrity is below twenty
percent."
"no @#^%. Ponta tried to get up, wasn't able to as her leg wasn't exactly bending the right way. "they're coming about" she said, the viewscreen cracked and barely holding an image.Schrodi helped her to her
seat as she sat down in her own, which was at a bit of an angle, seems the deck plate it was attached to buckled. As the two warbirds, one showing scars from their atack , the other unfortunately whole
turned towards them she sighed. "Damn. I'm sorry."
IRW Terrix
He stared at the smoking , burning wreck off the bow. HE should send over boarding parties to capture them, but after this much, and losing this many ships..no. Better to not take chances they'd be as
resourceful in repeling a boarding as anything else they've done this day "Finish them." he ordered, the ships lurching from the heavy plasma torpedos rocketing from the tubes. "Sir, I've incoming warp
signatures."
The Colonel just smiled "finally, my reinforcements, late to the party."
USS Dauntless
She couldn't do more than watch helpelessly as the torpedoes closed in on the crippled ship, growing larger in the flickering viewscreen-untill from off to the port side there was a barrage of phased polaron
cannon bursts, destroying the their incoming demise. she blinked as another ship came into view, it's four nacelles and Terran Empire yellow trim making her wonder if she had gone mad-untill she saw the USS
crudely painted over the ISS on the Warhawks bow. There was another flash, then a third as two more ships dropped out of warp, the USS Tunguska and the USS Agamemnon. The latter broke off from the other
two, shields extending around the burning Dauntless, enhancing it's SIF field as well as stablizng the hull while the other two ships turned towards the Warbirds, weapons blazing. The Tunguska's beams cut
through the damaged warbirds shields, sending it's core critical while the Warhawk's cannons hammered the Terrix's shields. untill Malor gave the order to retreat, the warbird jumping to warp.
"We're being hailed" Darvon said from her station, holding her broken arm to her side. "on screen, assuming it works." It smoked and sparked, but after a minute Admiral Missy Travis of the Warhawk's smiling
face was on the screen, along with Admiral Moira Stern of the Tunguska and Mirra from the Agamenon "nice of you to send up a flare so we could find you"
"how did you know it was us?" Replied Schrodi, blood covering her fur. Admiral Travis just grinned "Well we decected an entire system exploding, and since Moira was with me-"
"Ey now, I only blew up a starsystem once, and wasn't my bloody fault!" Replied Admiral Stern.
"did you get her back?" Schrodi asked as the bridge started to wobble.
Mirra nodded "yes, as you said it was a piece of cake."
"that's good, remind me never to say that again. I think I'm going to pass out now" She said, crumpling to the deck with a thump.
4 days later, Earth Space Dock
Admiral Quinn was known not to be a man who upset easily. Calm, paitent, an excellent diplomat and leader. It took a lot to get that vein in his forehead throbbing visibily. Like Commander Schrodinger in his
office yet again...this time with her first officer, though with a still healing broken leg Ponta wasn't standing heels locked together at attention like Schrodi was.
"I've got engineering at Utopia Planitia wanting to know just HOW you got mud and grass stains on the hull of your ship! and that was before it was shot to hell.." he rubbed his head and sat down. "Thing is,
I can't fire you as much as I'm tempted." he said, looking back at her report again. "everything you did makes sense after the fact, and if there hadn't been more Tal'shiar ships in the area than your intel
said, it would have worked perfectly."
She relaxed just a bit at that. "Still..where in God's name did you ever come up with an idea so insane? Warping INTO atmosphere?" he shook his head "downside is Tactical Evaluations wants to talk to you.
Being you pulled off something impossible they want to debrief you. Probably call it the Schrodinger Manuver or something" he said with a sigh.
"oh they can't do that Sir, I diddn't invent it."
"you mean someone else did something that stupid?" he asked wide eyed "who?"
"Admiral William Adama, Sir."
Quinn looked confused "who?"
"You woudln't have heard of him, he doesn't exist in this reality."
He just sat back down and put his head in his hands "you make my head hurt Schrodinger, Dismissed."
The two of them saluted, Schrodi pushing Ponta's wheelchair out the door. Quinn sighed "looks like I picked the wrong week to quit drinking."
On the turbolift the two of them ran into Rylov. He had returned with the Agamemnon, and was waiting for a transport to New Romulus "I heard shouting as I was waiting for the lift by the Admirals office, I
take it he was less than pleased with you?"
Schrodi just shook her head "he's prety upset, really chewed my TRIBBLE this time." she said, as Ponta looks down the Caitian's back "Don't worry Cap'n, you've still got plenty of TRIBBLE left."
"Thank you, Ponta."
He left them as he got off in the medical section. He had one more stop before his ship was due "Excuse me" he said to one of the nurses "I am looking for Captain Rhonda Evans."
"that's a coincidence, I am too" the nurse muttered "Two worst types to have as paitents in the universe, doctors and starship captains, and Evans is both. I think she's this way." The nurse lead him up a
level marked Pediatrics. there wasn't anyone by the desk, instead they seemed to be clustered down the hall, with many of the young paitents, children of Starfleet crew assigned to the station. She looked
much better than the last time he saw her in the Agamemnons transporter room, though her leg was still in a brace, sitting beside a small Trill child who was listening while she ran her fingers over some
type of stringed insturment, then began to sing.
"And the men who hold high places
Must be the ones who start
To mould a new reality
Closer to the Heart
Closer to the Heart
The Blacksmith and the Artist
Reflect it in their art
Forge their creativity
Closer to the Heart
Yeah, it's closer to the Heart
Philosophers and Ploughmen
Each must know his part
To sow a new mentality
Closer to the Heart
Yeah, it's closer to the Heart
You can be the Captain and
I will draw the Chart
Sailing into destiny
Closer to the Heart"
There was quiet applause as she finished (it was a hospital ward after all) and she smiled as Rylov stepped out of the doorway where he was watching. She handed the instrument to one of the older children,
letting them try it out then got to her feet as best she could. "General, I was hoping to see you before you left."
"Please, that title is past. I am a mere historian now, at least I was. I'm not sure what I am anymore to be honest."
Rhonda nodded "still, I wanted to thank you."
"you must know, that I did not do it for you."
"Ah know." she sat down on the edge of the observation window "you did it to protect your people, to keep them from being turned into abominations like I was."
"ah, so you remember that."
She shrugged "I'm not upset, it's the truth. Though" she said " you did pick a harder way to go about it than you could have. You could have easily snuck in to the lab with a disruptor, turning me into
crispy sub-atomic particles."
"the thought had occoured to me to be honest."
"why diddn't you, if you don't mind me asking?"
He looked out the window at his reflection, and the to him alien world spinning slowly below. "I read your file. I know that you did not choose the path you follow, that you prefer to be saving lives, than
sitting in command of a heavily armed Starship."
Rhonda nodded and smirked ironicly "soon to be heavier armed, They've scheduled the Agamemnon for the Galaxy II refit to Dreadnaught class" she said, sighing a bit.
"Perhaps it is because they do not expect you to use the heavier weaponry unless there is no other option available." He shrugged, and looked out the window again. "S'tarna, took the loss of Romulus hard. My
son died while trying to get civilians on the last ships leaving, giving up his own spot, and his wife..." he closed his eyes. "she was a healer. Yet when she had to, she took dommand of a Warbird that was
crippled..and saved several transports from the Borg a year later. How could I then not try to save you, someone who is so much like her?"
She nodded "I can see that." there was an announcment for the transport to New Rommulus over the PA. "one thing though, remember this. there is no such thing as a mere historian. People like you are what keep the facts straight, so that people that come behind might not make the same mistakes."
He actually smiled at that "I will keep that in mind. Good luck to you in the future Captain Evans."
"and to you as well." She watched him go, then got back on the crutches, before she was late for her next physical therapy session.
"he's as dangerous as a ferret with a chainsaw."
I was captured in a honey trap by an intelligence operative, who was assassinated after my sentencing, presumably by the very outfit who sent him after me.
That was a verry long time ago, I was within my species normal lifecycle then, even had a son while on the run. I do hope he is okay.
I digress. As I was saying, both armies had their weapons trained at my back, just in case I tried to run, but I had given up on fighting these people. They didn't see me anymore, only a threat to their own existence. Even though I never took a life, they feared me.
Before me was the schism; a hole in the fabric of reality which lead to parts unknown, possibly oblivion. At least, that was the common knowledge among my people.
I was cast out of reality, allegedly doomed to fall for all eternity, through the infinite void beyond. This was not the case.
The schism, as it turns out, is a transdimensional anomaly caused by a devestating weapon system I found to be called System XN.
Where I landed, with a leg shattering crunch, was a battlefield on a scale beyond my realisation. Spanning reality itself, I saw four armoured warriors tackle the terrible doosday machine. A living mechanical lifeform which evolved to meet every challenge it faced, yet it couldn't break the warriors' will.
I lay at the edge of the battle for days, waiting for my bones to reset, before dragging my bulk over to the wreckage of the machine. I couldn't believe that there was a lifeform within, piloting the monstrosity. His name was Helios Olympus.
He tasked me with destroying the XN, telling me what it could do in the process. Helios died as a result of a pylon impaling his side.
I couldn't bring myself to destroy the system, not when I could use it to get back home. Thus I started tinkering with the wreckage, trying to understand how the XN worked. Something I still do not understand.
After years of toil, I rebuilt the the XN module itself, but could not operate the machine, so I set about the remaining wreckage of the war machine, hoping to find a control mechanism. What I found was the entire machine WAS the control mechanism, keyed to Helios.
More years of work passed by, the result being the RV now down in the hangar bay.
As I finished building the RV, I looked back to find I had fractured the land just by walking over it. Whether or not it was due to me, or if it had been weakened by the battle between the armoured warriors, I wasn't hanging around to find out.
I fired up the RV's XN module, my mind solely driven by going home. It worked somewhat, but the degree of success was not absolute, I missed the reality I was aiming for.
Where I landed did not fair too well. A gleaming structure of crystal shattered as soon as I stepped upon it. This prompted some tinkering to build the compensators you see on all my uniforms.
I spent years hopping from reality to reality, learning to control the XN systems as I went. What I hoped to be my last dimensional jump was very different from any other. The readouts on my screen died, followed by the cockpit vanishing around me. Once again I was falling forever.
My senses numbed, I retreated into myself, losing all perception of the passage of time.
At some point, the nothingness was no longer... nothing. Swirls of light hurtled toward me in a hazy blur. As the light enveloped me, I felt motion for the first time in an eternity...
As my sight adjusted to the conditions, I found myself in an alien place, which I later found to be main Engineering of the U.S.S. Moray.
The rest is as recorded in my record, aside from that one encounter with Q. For me that misadventure lasted a lot longer than you think...
"You still didn't answer the question Cagalli... just how much do you weigh?" Amuro asked.
"Simple answer is I don't know exactly. All I do know is that no planet in the Alpha Quadrant can support my mass unassisted." I responded.
"If you're that heavy you must be exerting a gravitational pull... Why don't we try using the ships sensors for an estimated reading?" Amuro pitched.
"Why not?" I broke a smile "Let me get my EVA suit"
I stepped off of the hull, floating out a distance of 10KM from the Alteisen Riese. "Ready?" I asked over the comm.
"Ready!" Chimed a chorus from the bridge.
I turned off the compensators... the Odyssey class vessel lurched toward me.
"TURN THEM BACK ON!" Amuro screamed down the comm.
"What's the damage?" I asked.
"Well... you blew out the gravimetric sensors, but the closest the computer can estimate at this time is something in the range of 9 billion tons..."
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
I shouldn't have been there, plain and simple.
This was Holy Ground to these people and here I was strolling around like the nonbeliever that I am. To be honest I wouldn't even be here if I didn't tug a few strings from my Section 31 connections but here I was, and here just happened to be the Vulcan Temple atop Mount Seleya. I could hardly breath by the time I made it to the top, it was way too hot and frankly that inoculation didn't really feel like it was doing much. As I began walking through the halls it seemed unusually quite given the sand storm on its way toward the temple, it must have been the acoustics of the architecture or something.
As quiet as it was though, I nearly jumped out of my skin when one of the priests spoke up from right behind me. I'd have guessed that she wasn't too pleased with my being here, but the only indication was the blunt direct tone to her voice. She didn't even ask why I was there, I really don't know if she had been given the heads up on my visit or if she could simply read my mind, but she led me through a series of corridors and passageways until we reached the isolation chambers, the ones used for deeper meditations or treatments for those who had been put through the emotional trauma T'Pal had experienced.
The Priest was gone before I could even ask what to do next, so I kind of just shrugged and knocked on the door.
"I expected you sooner Captain."
Another Vulcan that didn't sound so pleased to see me, but this one was at least a friend. At least when she wasn't giving me such a stone cold expression.
"It's good to see you E'Saul."
"As it is to see you James."
"How are you? How is she?"
"I remain the same as usual, but T'Pal still has her 'ups and downs' as you would say."
"May I?"
"Yes, you may, but please remain silent. We have been in here trying to focus her Katra. She has been doing well, but still seems to be having nightmares."
We walked into the small room, lit only by a few candles on a small alter and one or two on the floor to aid in meditation. There on the floor knelt in some sort of light robes was my First Officer. To be honest, I don't think I had ever seen her with her hair down. It was longer than I would have expected, and she looked different when it framed her face. Se was only about forty or so in human years, but didn't look a day over twenty nine. She breathed so slowly that I couldn't even tell she had been breathing at all, so as quietly as I could, I found a spot on the wall to lean against.
The Doctor took her place opposite of T'Pal and began chanting in the native when she put her hands out and did something that caught me off guard. A small bowl had been between them, filled with what I could only assume was water when it suddenly started moving. I stood in amazement at what I was watching as it began with light ripples, then heavier ones. As T'Pal began chanting, the water began taking various patterns, making geometric shapes. I had no clue they could do such things, at least I'd never seen or heard anything beyond the famous telepathy. They went on like this for another hour or so... I think. They woke me up after I began snoring too loud.
E'Saul pulled a few strings of her own to allow her and T'Pal to do her therapy here. E'Saul had trained here for twenty years before Admiral Aviess recruited her back into service, which was about two years before joining my crew. She was a devout Vulcan and could have made a great priestess had she stayed with it. After what happened aboard the ship she felt here was the best place for her to recover. They could do some sort of ritual that would allow them to dampen the memories which would make it easier to treat her as well as retrain her to control her emotions. Eventually over the treatment they had let more of the emotions through, but even then it was a slow process. It had been two months since they'd left the ship, I myself had only been back for one.
They invited me back to their Quarters to eat since I wasn't really allowed to eat with the rest of the Priests and Priestess'. It gave me a chance to have a more intimate discussion, both with T'Pal as well as E'Saul, who had been my counselor as well until an alternate version of myself attacked using a stolen Tholian carrier. Things were quiet at first, but E'Saul couldn't help but comment on my expression over dinner. I'm not one to turn down a free meal or genuine hospitality, but it'd entirely slipped my mind that all the Vulcans on my crew were vegetarian.
"Is there a problem with the meal James?"
"I uh... I just forgot Vulcans were so big on the salads."
"I apologize James, shall we go out and find you something more suitable? The monastery garden has had a slight chkariya infestation if you would prefer to solve both problems at once?"
To my surprise T'Pal laughed, just slightly, but even E'Saul cocked an eyebrow quizzically. I couldn't help but to laugh myself, this just egged her on, which made me laugh harder. Dr. E'Saul even gave a sly little smirk as the two of us were laughing harder and harder. After we had calmed down I couldn't help but feel guilty. Here she was working for months to regain control of her emotions as well as get passed what happened to her, and in a few hours of being here, I had her laughing. She had a look on her face of slight disappointment before she took a deep breath to regain composure.
"Do not feel bad James," E'Saul said, it must have been my expression, "it is good for her to laugh, I find that the positive helps balance out the negative, she cannot regain control of her emotion without proper equilibrium. A little cheat here and there might help in both of your recoveries."
"How is the rest of the crew Sir?" T'Pal asked. The tone of her voice gave away a little more emotion than intended, but it was good to hear her sounding a little more like herself.
"They're good actually, Mr. Sabin and Lt. Cmdr Edison are on a sabbatical aboard the U.S.S. Nixon."
"The Nixon? That ship is supposed to be on assignment studying anomalies in the Tau Dewa sector, is it not?" E'Saul asked.
"It is actually, go figure that the two smartest guys on the ship would take a vacation to a ship to study black holes."
I looked to T'Pal but not even a smile. The sad thing is that actually made me feel a little better, which was a shame too, she had a really cute laugh.
"Pruz managed to talk Dave into taking Wraith to Risa to celebrate."
"Risa?" This time both ladies cocked their eyebrow.
'Yeah" I laughed a little, "she thought it would be fun to see this summer celebration they've got going on lately. From the last I'd heard they took the boy swimming, and he nearly drowned."
"Drowned? Is he-?"
"He's fine, but it was kind of funny that with everything he's done, not once did any of us ever stop to think if he could swim. He quite proudly blurted over Keating that Mrs. Pruz "showed him several mating rituals."
I jumped a little bit when T'Pal suddenly do a spit take on me from that. She did however manage to keep herself from showing anything. Even E'Saul's eyes popped open at that.
"Fizi?" E'Saul asked.
"Dancing. She took the boy dancing at the festival. He didn't know how to do that either, so she had to teach him a few different dance moves."
She sighed in relief... well... as much as a Vulcan can anyway. I laughed a little again as I wiped the water from my shirt, T'Pal apologized profusely. I couldn't be mad, it was kind of a surprise, plus it was hilarious to be frank.
After we finished eating I helped E'Saul clean up the plates as T'Pal went back to meditate once more in solitude. Since the monastery didn't use replicators it meant having to actually hand wash everything, something I haven't done since I was a small boy visiting my Grandma. I tried to stay out of the way of the monks as we cleaned up. We talked about a lot of things that have happened since the ordeal with the monster that WAS my mirror self. I hated to admit to such a thing but I had to confide in her that I was glad that he was dead, more so that I had almost enjoyed watching Wraith break him down like that. I was horrified that part of the reason I broke down and cried was not only because I had been through a similar experience, but partly because I was so glad he was dead and had gone in agony.
She paused a moment to reflect, something I've come to realize was more trouble than I wanted to hear right now.
"What is it Doctor?" My tone was of clear concern.
"I did not want to hold this from you, but I did not honestly know how to bring this up Captain."
Captain... She hadn't called me that the entire time I'd been here.
"It was what he took Captain."
"What he took? What who took? Do you mean what he did to T'Pal? What did he do to-"
"Nanites Captain, he left Fizi alive in sick bay so he could access the files in the computer. He left her unharmed because she was so willing to cooperate and because he had other plans."
I was angry, it just flared up from no where at this point. But the Doctor, luckily had that sharp wit to her and managed to catch me before I said anything I regret.
"She's an empath Sir, she could sense what he was, she was practically in tears because of the things he was doing to T'Pal. You yourself locked up in fear after he tortured you, all she did was what she had to so she could help once we got free. He had sent down a guard or two for things like a dermal regenerator, my laser scalpel, and a few different drug compounds for keeping patients awake during surgeries. At one point during T'Pal's ordeal, Fizi said he came down personally to access the computer in my office before using medical replicator. That injector he had was full of repurposed nanites."
"Repurposed?"
"I am not sure how just yet?"
"Just yet?"
"I have been working through it while not helping T'Pal with her recovery. He had gone through numerous files on my personal computer, everything I had in there involving Borg nanotechnology."
"Everything?"
"Must you keep repeating me like that James?"
I gave a little chuckle, as mad as I was, E'Saul had known me too long, she knew exactly which buttons to push and when. Its also why I asked that she pull double duty as the ships counselor. She knew what I was asking though.
"Everything though, I have checked and he had somehow managed to break any encryptions I had in place and accessed everything from the Voyager files to Section 31 to my own files on Both Edison and Wraith."
"Wraith? But his nanites are-"
"Are his entire immune system, they are the only things keeping his body from tearing itself apart. They also help heal his more serious injuries."
"When they revived Wraith after he'd been suffocated, can that be why he injected himself?"
She gave me that sarcastic look she gives when I say something "foolishly human".
"You can not just inject a dead body with blood from someone else to bring it back Captain, that is just plain ludicrous. That would be like me using a hypospray of Gorn DNA to regrow your arm. It just does not work that way. Besides, there was no way of telling if he was dead or not without an actual body."
"He had bigger plans.... It's the only thing that makes sense. He wanted those nanites for something, and even though he's dead, I think his first officer is going to carry those plans out."
"Agreed, it is the logical reason for their sudden departure. Regardless Captain, we need to prepare for the eventual causality of what happened. Not if, but when that crew returns we need to be ready for anything they might throw at us."
She was right, there was no doubt about it. If that evil TRIBBLE uses those nanites, we need to be prepared. After her meditations were finished I had to apologize to T'Pal about my having to leave and the reasoning why. She gave me a hug which I wasn't expecting, but I hugged her back, kissing her on the forehead. I knew exactly the kinds of things she'd been through, and much to my dismay she knew the things that had been done to me now as well. While our physical scars maybe faded, E'Saul is still there doing her best to help us become whole again. I wished her the fastest recovery possible, both the crew and I couldn't wait to have her back when she felt like she was ready.
As I left she shed a small tear, wiping it away as she suppressed any emotions she had been feeling. Looking back I honestly didn't want to leave, it was the first bit of peace I'd had in a long time, it was almost like being normal again. For a few brief hours I was completely happy after what happened, but for the time being, it looked like I was going to have to make some big plans of my own. I waved to her and E'Saul before pulling my comm badge out of my pocket and chirping the ship.
"One to beam up."
Blaise Pascal, human, Earth, 1623-1662
August 2411, Bajor
The shockwave blew out the windows to Colonel Ranchet's station. He was knocked to the floor. He immediately drew his sidearm and peered out the window. Even though he was a seasoned officer, it took a few moments for the truth of the situation to sink in. News of the secret peace talks with the Breen must have leaked out, and an angry party decided to make a statement. A blast powerful enough to knock out his windows eight kilometers away must have been strong enough to cause mass devastation in downtown Korto.
His fears were confirmed several minutes later. When the skies cleared, none of the towers in Korto were standing. Downtown was obliterated.
Ranchet knew that he had performed his tasks flawlessly. His department had screened every visitor for the past two months, so he was certain that this was home-grown Bajoran terrorism. That feeling did nothing to eliminate the waves of pain that rippled through his life for several months.
September 2411
Ch'Raul sat down at the desk in his office and put his head in his palm. He took a minute to compose himself and then began recording.
"Counselor's log, supplemental. I just finished a mandatory counseling session with Lieutenant Commander Hillel. He is obviously frustrated about being reassigned from head of security to acting captain of beta shift. Captain Carter was a fool to couch the demotion in terms of 'broadening your experience base.' Even a first-year counselor knows better than to make that up.
"Hillel has always suppressed his emotions. That works very well when you are dealing with difficult command situations, but it doesn't work all that well when dealing with your own problems. His wife Isabella is trying to help him, but I feel like this is something that he is going to have to deal with own his own. No amount of cajoling will make him change thirty-six standard years' worth of habits. End recording." Then, after a brief pause, he continued. "And if he ever threatens me, I'm going to break his arm."
A female voice interrupted. "Append recording with current statements?"
"No!"
February 2412
Six standard weeks of leave did not come very often. Most officers took that time to visit family, spending weeks to reach homes flung throughout the Alpha and Beta quadrants. Others would visit tourist traps like Risa. Some would inevitably volunteer to work in order to earn a favor from their captain down the road.
The Hillel family did something stranger. They were from Earth, but they ended up on Bajor. Isabella Hillel knew why this had happened. Her husband Yair had been troubled ever since his "encounter" with the life-forms inside the Bajoran wormhole last year. Yair felt horrible when terrorists destroyed most of a Bajoran city a few days after he left the sector, and that sense never left him. Now Yair had dragged Isabella and Emily to Bajor in hopes of finding peace.
They checked into a hotel in Ashalla, but a few days later Yair rented an apartment on the outskirts of Korto. At that point it was clear to Isabella that Yair had no intention to return to duty on the Reaper, or to seek a new post on the Executor along with Captain T'Panna.
She hoped that this move would finally bring Yair some peace. She didn't understand his burdens but knew that they needed to lift soon.
I still haven't found my purpose yet.
I have been on Bajor for eleven days. Most of every day has been spent searching the comnet for jobs or walking through Korto, trying to find a way to make myself useful. Nothing has satisfied me.
Isabella wants to talk about our plans every night. I tell her that she knows as much as I do, but I will let her know when I figure it out. It is obvious that she is unhappy, but I don't know what to do about that.
Today I spoke with several organizations that are involved in rebuilding Korto. Most of them were uncomfortable with a non-Bajoran being a part of their security team, so I thanked them for their time and moved on. One woman asked why I was interested, and I made the mistake of telling her about my experience in what she calls "The Celestial Temple." She yelled in my face and called me a heretic.
The experience in the wormhole has ruined me. I can't sleep at night. Being intimate with Isabella isn't satisfying. Watching Emily grow fills me with dread because I feel like I can't provide a stable home environment for her to mature. I feel like every aspect of my life has been tarnished by that encounter. Why do they want me to suffer?
Three weeks later
I resigned my commission with Starfleet a week ago. A few days later a commander on Deep Space Nine offered me a position on the station. I told her that I'd get back with her, but I'm pretty sure that is not where I belong.
Of course, I don't know where I do belong.
The latest network alert grabbed Colonel Ranchat's attention. He quickly changed into civilian clothes and headed towards the underground transit. His handset provided real-time status on his target. Fifteen minutes later, he was on the trail of the latest suspect.
Ranchat checked to make sure that his earring was in place. In his private life he was one of the few Bajorans who clung to the Ohalavaru teachings. He had voluntarily left the mainstream faith in order to practice what he believed was the truth about the Bajoran gods. But when blending in public, he needed to look like an average citizen, so a nondescript earring was in his right ear. Just take it out before I go home and see my wife, he thought.
Seven minutes ago the target entered a medium sized park in a suburban neighborhood. Ranchat's handset told him that there were four exits, and that plainclothes officers had arrived to block off the other three exits. Ranchat smiled and pushed the handset into a pocket. Then he approached the target.
"It is a pleasant day, is it not, Mister Hillel?" Ranchat sat next to the human man.
The human looked confused. "I'm afraid that we haven't met. Your name is?"
"My name is not your concern," Ranchat replied. "I wanted to let you know that I have been watching you since you and your family arrived on Bajor. You have researched the rebuilding of Korto, the infrastructure, hospitals, schools, and military installations. It is clear that you are planning to disrupt my society further. I will not allow that.
"I am giving you a choice. You have one day - that is twenty-six hours - to leave the Bajor system. Leave, and do not ever come back. If you stay, I will hunt you down. I will not let you harm my people. Do I make myself clear?" Ranchat moved his jacket back to give the human a view of his disruptor pistol.
The human looked like he was about to cry. Ranchat recalled the details in Hillel's Starfleet profile. Could it be possible that this man had a legitimate encounter with the life forms in the wormhole? Ranchat was suspicious.
"I have broken no laws, but clearly you have been tracking me and have marked me as a threat. Do you really believe that a man who would abandon his career to move here and help your people is willing to cause harm?"
Ranchat stopped himself from a harsh reply. "My job is to protect Bajorans. It is clear to me that you are not helping us. If you are not helping, then what are you doing?"
"I have no idea," the human replied. Then he stood up and walked away.
A few moments later, Ranchat gave the order to let the human go. The plainclothes intelligence officer at the park's southwest corner let Hillel pass without incident.
Ranchat sat on the bench for several minutes, replaying the dialogue in his head. Seventeen years of experience told him that Yair Hillel was dangerous, but the look on the man's face was not that of a criminal.
Yair came home early, which surprised Isabella. She quickly ended her conversation on the comnet, picked up a padd containing a novel, and went to greet him. A short glance confirmed that he had no success today.
At dinner she decided to take a new approach. "You know how we have been talking about taking Emily home to Israel for Yom Kippur, right? I'm thinking that this would be a good year to do that. It's far enough out that your new employer should be able to give you the time off."
"That's fine," Yair replied without any enthusiasm. "Why don't we plan on the two of you going?"
"Does that mean you found something?" I shouldn't have said that, Isabella immediately thought.
"No. I just think we should be realistic, that's all."
That was the end of the dinner conversation. Afterwards Yair opened up the kanaar. He drank for a few hours and then fell asleep on the couch. He did not mention the timetable for leaving.
Bajoran security couldn't be more annoying if they wanted to, Yair thought. Hourly reminders sent to his handset were driving him mad.
He told Isabella that he was going to Ashalla, but instead he headed for the nearly empty ski resorts in the mountains a few hours away. Fall was rapidly approaching, so the area was only lightly trafficked. He found a small trail that led to a four hundred meter vertical drop. It was the end of the trail, and the end of his trail.
He activated his handset's recording feature. "Isabella, I am sorry for the trouble that I have caused you. By now I see that there is no room for me here on Bajor. I really believed that I belonged here, that there was a place for me to help the Bajorans. But now I know that they don't want an outsider to help them, even an outsider that has been touched by one of their gods. Their prejudice confuses me, but I can't do anything to change them.
"Please head back to Earth and start life over again. I hope that you can forget about this place and move on. I love you both. End recording."
The phaser was cold in Hillel's hands. He set the beam strength to maximum and paused for a moment. Was this really the only way for him to find peace?
His handset chimed. It was an actual call, not the hourly text message reminding him to leave the planet. Hillel looked and saw that the caller was not his wife. He answered while leaving the phaser pressed against his lower jaw. "This is Hillel," he said.
An old man's voice replied. "Are you interested in baseball?"
"I'm sorry, I am afraid you have reached the wrong person."
"No, I have reached the right person, Commander Yair Hillel. I'd like to invite you to my house for lunch tomorrow, and then we'll head out to the diamond to catch a double-header."
Yair had no clue what this person was talking about. "Who are you?"
"Seriously? You must be the only person on the planet who doesn't recognize my voice. My name is Ben Sisko."
T minus 336 hours
"It's an antique." Admiral Semok's tone is... definitely disparaging.
"It's a design classic," I say. "Sir," I remember to add.
Semok takes another slow look around the bridge of the IGV Spirits of Earth. The portly Vulcan looks rather out of place on the cramped bridge of the Andorian Charal-class escort. "It is not quite what I had envisaged, when I contemplated the next generation of Starfleet warships," he says.
"Learn from the past, sir." I hand him the PADD with the ship's specs. "We've incorporated the latest fruits of the Romulan Republic technology exchange... and I think we've learned lessons from other sources, too. The Charal's design is - compact, highly efficient, specialized for combat -"
"There seems to be an error in your figures." Semok frowns as he studies the PADD.
"Where?" He points. "No, sir, I don't see any typographical errors there."
Semok's eyes widen as this sinks in. He's looking at the readouts for structural integrity... and they're telling him that this fragile-looking Andorian antique has a durability that compares very favourably with a Federation dreadnought. "Fascinating," he says. "I will confess, then, to being somewhat impressed."
"Thank you, sir."
"Further study is, of course, required. In this context, there are some matters I wish to discuss with you. We are both agreed, I think, that actual combat experience is the best way to gather this data?"
"I'm more than ready to take Spirits of Earth into combat, sir."
"I do not doubt that." Semok looks around. "I am unfamiliar with the deck plan. Would you accompany me to the transporter room, Vice Admiral?"
"Of course, sir."
Semok still seems out of place as we walk down the corridors of the ship. "I have arranged for an addition to your crew complement," he says. "I believe this new officer will prove of value - and, in some sense, it is an experimental assignment."
"Experimental?"
We are at the transporter room. One thing about the Charal, it is a lot easier to navigate inside than the King Estmere. Semok goes to the console, keys a communications frequency, and says, "Ready to energize."
"Confirmed," says a musical female voice. Semok operates the controls. A column of blue light shimmers on the pad, dims, resolving into -
The being on the transporter pad looks, at first glance, like a human female: but only at first glance. At the second, I notice the eyes, blank and silvery-grey, and the cheeks, where transparent panels in the human-seeming skin show the circuitry beneath. The android steps off the transporter pad.
"Vice Admiral Shohl," it - she - says. "I am...." She pauses in apparently human confusion. "My serial number is HSM-0012471 XM-981," she says, "but, for social purposes, my name is Amiga."
The android is wearing science division uniform, with a commander's rank pips. I come to a quick decision, to take this... being... at its own estimation. "Welcome aboard, Commander Amiga," I say.
"Thank you, sir." The android's lips move in a mathematically exact smile.
"I believe," Semok says, "that Commander Amiga will prove a valuable additional asset in a... forthcoming project." The admiral has a PADD of his own in his hand, now. "There is a military operation being proposed for the very near future," he says, handing me the PADD. "We considered that you might wish to be involved."
I look down at the device, my gaze racing over the text. From the first glance, it doesn't take me long to read it. And when I've read it, I say just one word.
"Yes."
---
T minus 273 hours
The stolid, handsome blue face on the screen breaks into an unaccustomed smile. "Vice Admiral, good to see you."
"Captain Izini. How's life on Starbase 193?"
My former chief engineer smiles wider. "Quiet. They keep me occupied, of course, but it's quiet. Not that that's a bad thing."
"Oh, come on, Shrin, you know you long for the good old days."
Shrin Izini gives me a quizzical look. "Being chief engineer on the Sita - well, it wasn't quiet, that's for damn sure. I'm not sure my idea of good old days involves quite so much shooting, though."
"Think you could still find your way about the Sita?"
"I know that old bucket inside and out. What's the problem, Tylha? Did you break your shiny Tholian carrier?"
"Not yet." I let my face turn serious. "I'm putting together a multi-ship task force, though, and I'll be taking the Sita as well as King Estmere. Shrin... you know that ship, like you said. How would you feel about taking centre seat on her?"
Shrin's jaw drops at that. "On a combat mission?"
"You could do it, I know that."
Shrin blinks. "Combat command - even as a one-shot deal, it'd be...." Shrin is, of course, Andorian. Do we Andorians glamourize combat too much? Possibly... but I can tell that glamour has a hook in him now. "What's the deal, sir?"
So I tell him what the deal is, and where we're going. And, being Andorian, he understands that, too.
---
T minus 244 hours
The conference room on the Spirits of Earth looks like some sort of refugee convention. One way or another, a number of officers from outside the Federation have attached themselves to my crew. The statuesque Orion science officer, Kluthli, sits at one end of the table; next to her, and possibly the only person completely unaffected by her presence, is the Breen, Jek the Apostate, enigmatic in his environment suit. Then there are our friends and allies from the Romulan Republic - Temerix, with his Reman gargoyle face, and the taut, alert Romulan tac officer, Tallis, her dark eyes intent and watchful. Next to her, Three of Eight, our liberated Borg; next to him, the only other regular Starfleet officer besides myself, the Rigelian Dgy-coosh, his face mask-like and unreadable to me.
"The task group will be centred around the Spirits of Earth, and King Estmere with her fighter complement," I tell them. "However, in order to project more firepower, we will need flanking support from heavy cruisers... I've arranged for the USS Sita to join us already, and her armament is more or less consistent with that of the Bleak Midwinter." I look at Jek's metal mask. "Commander Jek seems the appropriate choice to fly a Chel Grett cruiser."
"Thot Jek, that has a good ring to it. Shame I can't have an all-Breen crew, and turn the heat settings down to something liveable," Jek remarks. "So, two battleships and two cruisers? The opposition science vessels will run rings round you." He shifts in his seat. "Will it be quicker to sell you out now, or should I wait till they're shooting at you?"
Breen humour. It gets old fast. "Commander Dgy-coosh will be supporting us in the Boar's Head," I say. Dgy-coosh looks faintly startled at that. Well, I know the Rigelian's record, he can handle the Mirror Universe science vessel as well as anybody and better than most. "Kluthli, Tallis, you'll be taking chief science and tactical slots on that ship... work with him. I've taken Boar's Head out myself on test flights, she's a fine ship."
"You should still have at least one more science vessel running support," says Jek. "Damned if I'm running a suicide mission for the Federation, and the opposition we'll be facing -"
"We'll have more support." I flourish a PADD at him. "Let's start by going over the mission parameters."
---
T minus 206 hours
The soft knock on the door of my ready room reminds me that I've lost track of time. "Come," I say.
The door hisses open, and Anthi Vihl steps in. "Sir," she says.
"Oh, come in, Anthi," I say. My antennae are wilting with fatigue. "Still working through the mission plans - we need to figure out a fallback if Klerupiru and Amiga can't hack it. As it were." Semok knew what he was doing, giving me the android; still, a lot of the plan rests on her and on the Ferengi computer expert.
"Sir," Anthi says, again. Normally so precise and professional, my exec seems worried and uncertain all of a sudden.
"What is it?"
"It's - about your assignments, sir." Anthi takes a deep breath. "Specifically, the commander of King Estmere for this operation."
I stare at her. "What's the problem?" It seems obvious to me; I run the task group from the Spirits of Earth, so my second in command takes King Estmere. Surely Anthi can't think she's not up to the job - ?
"I - I would prefer it, sir, if Dyssa D'jheph took battle command of King Estmere for this operation."
I blink in astonishment. "Dyssa?"
"She can handle it, sir. I think you know that as well as I do."
I'm still blinking. I must look an idiot; I force myself to stop. "But - Anthi, it's your natural place. Your - your right, almost. Why - ?"
"My place, sir," says Anthi, firmly, "is as your executive officer. At your side. You know I'm an expert in Andorian-style military equipment - the tac slot on Spirits of Earth is practically made for me."
"I was thinking Thires Entonav -"
"He's good, sir. He would be the natural choice, if I wasn't available."
I look at her, hard. "Anthi, don't you want a combat command?"
She grimaces. "I - yes, sir. More than almost anything." Her voice drops; her eyes are troubled. "But, sir... I know what this mission means to you. For this one... I think I need to be at your side."
I carry on looking at her. She's been my right arm ever since my first ship command... I have never known anyone more steadfast, more dependable. But I've also never known a better officer. She needs a command of her own, and soon.
But there is a naked appeal in her eyes, and I think to myself: soon, but maybe... not now.
"All right," I say. "Tell Dyssa she has centre seat on King Estmere."
Anthi relaxes, visibly. "Thank you, sir."
"Privately," I say, in my best official voice, "I think you're being a sentimental fool, Commander Vihl." And then, in my normal tones. "But... it'll be good to have you around."
---
T minus 197 hours
"Little Tylha!" The big Andorian chan smiles at me through his grizzled beard. "Come sit on your old uncle's knee."
"I'll pass, Uncle Kophil," I say. I look around his office. "How's the Academy treating you?"
Kophil Phohr laughs heartily. "Fine as ever! I just love correcting cadets' homework. What are you up to, girl?"
Technically, I outrank the old war-horse by several pay grades now. My zhen-mother's brother has never let things like that worry him - which is one reason, I guess, why a tactical commander of his brilliance is riding a desk at Starfleet Academy.
"I'm here on business. And I didn't come alone. Commander Amiga?" The android steps into the office as I raise my voice. "Commander Amiga, this is Commander Kophil Phohr... who happens to be my uncle."
Kophil's measuring gaze sweeps up and down her. "My, my," he says, "aren't they making these entertainment devices fancy these days?"
"I am fully functional in all respects," says Amiga. "I will not demonstrate this functionality... a male of your advanced age would likely not survive the encounter."
Kophil laughs uproariously at that. "Oh, she'll do, she'll do," he says, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Then, those eyes narrow at me. "She'll do for whatever it is you've got planned, little Tylha." I'm taller than him, too, but I will always be little Tylha to him, just as I was in those old days, when the occasional visits from my Starfleet uncle brought a welcome glimpse of adventure and exoticism into my life.
"You're one of the few people we've got," I say, "who're fully checked out on Wells-class science vessels."
"Oh, yes," says Kophil. "Nice ships. Nice ships.... Of course, from four centuries in the future, they damn well ought to be. Don't tell me they've given you one of those to play with?"
"The USS Indra," I say. "Unfortunately, it's not exactly playtime. Think you could take her?"
"Think I could?" Kophil exclaims. "Damn right I could!"
"She's got to be ready," I say, "for a combined op, as part of a task force, in a little over a week. The time scale is impossible, and the odds are horrendous." I grin at him, the scarred side of my face aching. "And when I tell you where we're going, Uncle, you'll say yes."
"Will I, now?" Kophil's eyes are narrower, now, and serious. "Where are we going, then, little Tylha?"
"Gimel Vessaris."
And, just as I did, Kophil says, "Yes."
---
T minus 4 minutes
"Four minutes to firing range." Anthi's voice is level.
My ships - officially designated Task Group Hipparchus - have been trailing their coats around the fringes of the system for hours, now. The science vessels have been fuzzing sensor scans, letting little details leak through. Details like the sheer mass of Sita and King Estmere... the low temperature of the exhaust from Bleak Midwinter's Breen drive... the antique radiation profile of Spirits of Earth's engines....
All this, we hope, will add up in the Nausicaans' minds to this: a commercial convoy, gone off course, packed with big ships, slow, and weak. In short, easy prey. We have set ourselves up as bait, to draw the light pickets off the outer rim of the system.
And, judging from the red dots now filling my tactical display, we've done exactly that. Three groups of Syphon frigates, each with a destroyer escort in the lead, arrowing in, hard and fast, eager for the killing and looting that's the hallmark of the Nausicaan pirate empire.... Coming in too hard and too fast to turn back now.
"Come about," I order. "Prepare to engage." We are already at red alert, have been for some minutes now.
"The Nausicaans are tightly bunched," Anthi observes. "Sir, this might be an opportunity to -"
"Confirmed," I say. "Deploy wing cannon platforms." The free-flying satellite cannons add significantly to Spirits of Earth's already substantial firepower. "Target the centre group for wing cannon overload." Anthi has been positively itching to try that trick.
"Incoming transmission, skipper," says F'hon Tlaxx from the comms console.
"Audio only," I tell him. No point showing the Nausicaans an Andorian warship bridge.
A guttural voice sounds. "Convoy. You are trespassing in Nausicaan space. Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded."
"Say again, please," I say, trying to keep an anticipatory tremor out of my voice.
"No stalling," the voice snarls. "Cut your engines."
"Really," I remark, "I should give you an opportunity to surrender. Would you like to do that?"
"No stalling!" the voice repeats. "No tricks!"
The tac console lights up green; they are within range. "Anthi," I say, "show them a trick."
The whole spaceframe of the Charal escort shudders as the cannons fire. A phenomenon from the earliest Andorian experiments with phaser weapons: fired in concert, the cannon pulses set up a resonance which affects just about everything in a wide area... including sensors. The tac display whites out in a blare of visual noise.
When it clears, two of the Nausicaan frigates are gone, nothing but smears of glowing vapour in space. A third is a burning, useless hulk; their destroyer companion, though, is still active, still a threat. After that barrage, the cannons are in power cycle, unavailable for a few seconds - so, all Spirits of Earth has left is the Romulan plasma array, the rear-mounted turrets, and the hyper-plasma torpedoes.
It's more than enough. The plasma beam burns through the destroyer's tattered shields and tears one warp engine to shreds, and then the torpedoes kick it skittering through space like an empty tin can, spitting out burning debris and escape pods as it tumbles. My attention goes to the rest of the map.
King Estmere met one group with a scatter volley from her forward disruptor cannons, punishing them hard... but the carrier's main weapons are her Scorpion fighters, streaking out of the launch bays now, spitting green-hot murder from their plasma weapons. The Boar's Head is supporting the carrier, some piece of info-warfare witchcraft paralysing a Nausicaan destroyer while the science vessel's own polarized disruptors rake across its hull. King Estmere's plasma torps are on rapid fire, balls of green lightning screaming towards the fleeing Syphon frigates. In short, Dyssa has everything well in hand.
The third Nausicaan group is doing, if anything, even worse. The frigates closed in at first on Bleak Midwinter, and then the survivors fled - directly into a phased-tet barrage from Sita. The elegant, leaf-like shape of the Indra circles the fray, picking off Nausicaans neatly with her exotic beam weapons. The last destroyer escort is swinging around -
"Sir!" Addie van Benn calls out from the science console. "The Nausicaan is trying to get behind the Sita!"
Anthi and I spare a moment to exchange grins. Of course, Addie wasn't with us on the old Sita....
The Nausicaan gets into position, ready to unleash his weapons on Sita's weaker aft quadrant... and a torpedo streaks out from Sita's aft launcher towards him, just as the mine, deployed from the cruiser a minute or two before, wakes to life and darts towards the Nausicaan from the other side.
Suddenly caught between the blast fronts of two terrific explosions, the destroyer hangs, burning and battered, while Sita's aft beam arrays finish the job.
"Nice to see old Shrin still remembers how to make a tricobalt sandwich," F'hon Tlaxx remarks cheerfully.
"Neatly done," I say. "Indra, Boar's Head, do you read any stragglers? Scan for cloaked ships in the vicinity."
"Scans negative," Dgy-coosh reports.
"We concur." Kophil's voice is crisp. "What we saw is what we got."
And we got them all - if there are more picket ships, they are way out on the other side of the system, and play no part in my strategic calculations. "Signal Task Group Aristotle. Phase one complete; moving in-system for phase two."
Semok's larger task group is logistic support; they will close in, pick up the Nausicaan survivors, follow us up as we move in.... We are the point of the spear; Semok's people are the shaft.
Task Group Hipparchus reforms, falling down the gravity well, towards the star I once called my sun.
---
T plus 5 hours
The planet, Gimel Vessaris, is close enough to show as a blue-white ball on the viewscreen. My hands are claws on the armrests of my command chair. I force myself to relax.
The tactical problem is... interesting. Having destroyed the outlying pickets, we need to move in and defeat the heavier ships in orbit around the planet. The problem is the defence grid. The Nausicaans have swathed the planet's low orbitals in automated weapons platforms, hundreds of them, semi-autonomous and self-replicating. We have to engage the enemy battleships, without getting into the effective envelope of that globe of firepower....
And, if I can believe the tac display, we can do it - just. We have dog-legged around the sun, coming in on a trajectory outside the plane of the ecliptic, hooking around the planet and the much larger sphere of death surrounding it... and now, the Nausicaan capital ships, riding in higher orbit, can't reach the safety of the defence grid without crossing our range of engagement. We can fight them.
Whether or not we can win, though, is another matter. Scans show three Talon battleships, three Guramba siege destroyers, two Scourge destroyers, and a massive Ravager dreadnought, with fighter groups scattered around them. The one thing in my favour is that they are spread out, slightly, in a high orbital - my guess is, resupplying from a shipyard built into one of Gimel Vessaris's three small asteroid moons.
"Skipper," says F'hon, "I'm getting a hail - Imperial civil administration frequency. I'm guessing it's the Nausicaan governor."
My lips thin. "All right. Let's talk. On screen."
The Nausicaan is thin-faced, red-eyed, gold decorations winking on his leather uniform, his hair worn in an extravagant bush. His fangs show as he glares at me. "I am Gvochkorr, military governor of this colony. You have committed an act of aggression in Nausicaan space," he says without preamble. "Withdraw your forces now, or face destruction. We will not permit Federation incursions on our territory."
I had a dignified answer prepared, but I forget it as sheer fury drives me to my feet. "Save it for J'mpok's propaganda broadcasts!" I snarl at the screen. "I was born on Gimel Vessaris! This is a Federation world - and today, we are taking it back!"
My blue eyes bore into his red ones, hatred burning between us brighter than a phaser beam. He cuts the channel. I sag back into my command chair.
"I'm guessing the diplomatic option's off the table, then," F'hon says.
"I don't think it was ever on," I mutter. "Anthi, time to engagement?"
"The lead ships will be in our weapons envelope in... two minutes," Anthi reports.
"Okay." I key inter-ship communications. "Sita, Bleak Midwinter, Indra and Boar's Head, engage and neutralize the Talons. King Estmere and I will keep the others off your backs - then, we regroup and go after the dreadnought." I say it airily, as if it's not a big deal.
It's... possible. I think.
Spirits of Earth and King Estmere go to flank speed, sweeping past the lumbering Nausicaan battleships. Behind us, space flares blue as the cruisers open up their phased-tet barrages. Cannon platforms fly out from my ship's wings; the fighters launch from Dyssa's bays. A wing of Stinger fighters closes to engage us. Some of them live long enough to flee.
The destroyers are in range, now, the Gurambas changing configuration -
Fire smashes into our shields. Status lights turn amber across my control panel - but the Romulan-made shields hold, none of the lights turn red, and the Charal is firing back, giving as good as she gets. I study the tac display, trying to hold the curving movements of my opponents in my mind. The Charal shudders as the cannons fire again -
One of the Gurambas has blundered; his course takes him at an angle that crosses both my and King Estmere's cannon range. Dyssa is already altering course to take advantage: I do the same. Cannon fire erupts from both ships; the Nausicaan's shields go down in an instant; his hull shatters. Not a mistake you get to learn from. King Estmere and Spirits of Earth yaw in opposite directions, away from the hulk, as his warp core goes up.
Space is full of Stinger fighters, but they're more a nuisance than a threat, just now; King Estmere has a plasma array mounted on her aft facing, and where that green lightning touches the Stingers, they burn. Some of them are trying to dogfight King Estmere's Scorpions; again, not a mistake you learn from. My aft turrets are yammering, constantly, swatting down the swarming fighters as they come in range. They are not the threat, though -
Sustained fire from the Scourge destroyers; our port shield is weakening. "Come about, hard!" I order, and the Charal moves in a tight turn, her cannons lashing out at the nearer destroyer. Plasma torpedoes spill out from our launcher, targeting the Nausicaan. Green flames bloom across the dark.
And green - something else, too. The second destroyer is moving in, spilling a sickly cloud of theta radiation. Too close, no chance to evade it. Spirits of Earth plunges into the glowing fog, and everything turns giddy, painful, nauseating. I can taste the foul stuff in the air with my antennae, feel it inside me, picking at the very cells of my body, trying to pry it and my ship apart.
Spirits of Earth fires, clean blue-white cannon bolts cutting through the Nausicaan murk.
The Scourge's shields hold for a moment, then flicker, then fail. Phaser bolts smash into the hull, metals and superdense ceramics boiling away into nothing beneath their onslaught; fires billow in the rush of escaping atmosphere. Our next volley cuts deeper, into the guts of the Nausicaan ship, exposing the warp core -
It blows.
Too close.
The blast front smashes into Spirits of Earth's forward shield, bringing it down, sweeping across the ship's hull with million-degree heat. The lights flicker, the artificial gravity wavers, making my stomach lurch. The Charal's spaceframe screams in protest. Damage lights sparkle on the consoles, and there are explosions and flames on the bridge as surges run through the EPS system. Something strikes my forehead, a fragment of an exploding console. "Damage control!" The tac display is a jumble of jagged lines, meaningless. There is a thin scream in the air, an atmosphere leak, somewhere on the ship. Blood is running down my forehead.
The ship steadies, the display clears.
The other Scourge is limping away, battered, engines damaged by our initial assault. Amazingly, the only weaponry we've lost is one cannon platform. No time to roll a replacement now; I send a volley after the fleeing destroyer with everything I've got. The Nausicaan blows up, this time at a safe range.
Somehow, Addie van Benn has got the forward shields back up, and engineering has restored some structural integrity. I make a mental note to write up the science officer and the Jolciot engineers for a commendation, if I get through this. "Support King Estmere!" I yell. "And someone dog down that damned air leak!" The scream in the air is bothering me.
King Estmere is tangling with the remaining Gurambas, all three ships trailing burning streamers of debris, the Scorpions buzzing around the Nausicaan ships, harrying them viciously. I swing Spirits of Earth around, and take the time, now, to launch that replacement cannon platform. The full force of our forward cannons smashes into one Guramba, stripping off its weapons spines, like a child pulling limbs off an insect; the battered hull tumbles away, impotent. That leaves us and King Estmere against one Guramba. That fight doesn't last long.
A few kilometres away, the battle between the cruisers and the Talon battleships... is finishing. One Talon is already gone, a second shatters in crossfire between Sita and Bleak Midwinter even as I watch, and the last one is lumbering, shields, weapons and engines cutting out as the two science vessels hit it with every special weapon they have. Something indescribable comes out of Indra, a dazzling point of light that hurts the eyes to look at it, and darts over to the Talon, which staggers and yaws wildly, air gouting from its wounded sides. A temporal instability device; I haven't seen one in action before. Then the two cruisers come up, and blue fire blazes from their phased-tet arrays, and the wounded battleship is a dead one.
"Get me a read on that dreadnought!"
The Ravager dreadnought has stayed clear of the action, and I don't know why. It is floating free, surrounded by a patchy cloud of trailing lights; the engines of the few surviving Stinger fighters. I look at it, and I feel more confident. My force is still - mostly - intact... and the six of us should be able to take the dreadnought, even if it's fresh -
"Skipper," says F'hon. "Incoming transmission -"
"Let's have it."
The Nausicaan face that appears on my viewscreen is wide-eyed, panicky. "This is the dreadnought Zlatchko! Federation forces, do not fire! We surrender! Do not fire!"
I snarl. Every part of me wants to blast this ship out of space - but one part of me is Starfleet, and that part's in charge. "Drop your shields, power down your weapons, eject your warp core!" I snap at the Nausicaan. "Offer no resistance to our boarding parties, or you will be destroyed!"
"We will comply! We will comply!" The link goes dead. An instant later, the ship's warp core drops out of its belly, and the Nausicaan dreadnought is no longer a threat, just an abstract metal sculpture hanging in space. "Must have had a systems problem we didn't know about," I muse.
"Or a backbone problem," suggests F'hon.
"Either way, lucky for us." I draw a deep breath of the smoke-filled air. That air leak is still whistling at me. "Signal Task Group Aristotle to send boarding parties as well as SAR crews," I say. "And let's take stock."
---
T plus 6 hours
The faces of my senior officers appear on the half-circle of screens on my console. "Status," I say.
"We're fine," Jek says in urbane tones. "Took a couple of hits during the fight, sure, but our damage control teams have everything locked down and straightened out. Want me to send them over to you?"
"Not necessary, thank you."
"You sure? It seemed to take ages for you to plug that air leak -"
"Not necessary. Thank you." I turn to Shrin Izini. "How's Sita?"
"Operational." Shrin's face is grave. "We took some penetrating strikes - there was a plasma fire in the torpedo bay which had me worried for a while - but we're not significantly damaged; all main systems are intact and fully powered."
"Same for King Estmere," Dyssa chips in. The carrier's gleaming hull is sadly scorched and marred, now, but I can see from my own readings that Dyssa's right, the damage is purely cosmetic. "Ready when you are, sir."
"Spirits of Earth is ready," I say. The smoke has almost cleared from the air of the bridge, even. "What about the science vessels?"
"Boar's Head sustained only light damage," Dgy-coosh reports. "The capital ships drew most of the enemies' attention away from us, of course."
"And they never laid a glove on us," Kophil cuts in from the Indra.
"Commander Phohr's handling of the exotic beam weapons was intriguing," Amiga's voice adds. "I have had to revise my estimates of their capabilities."
"That's experience at work, robo-girl," Kophil laughs. "You'll learn these tricks in time."
"I must study you carefully, then, and quickly, before your experience gives way to senility."
"Oh, she's good, Tylha, can we keep her? Or get one in blue?"
"I'll ask Admiral Semok," I say. "OK. we're operational - now, how does the defence grid look?"
Kophil's manner turns professional. "Our scans confirm the layout suggested by the long-range probes. The control station is in low orbit, beneath the grid... in optimum position about thirty minutes from now."
I nod. "Then we will be ready in thirty minutes. Signal Admiral Semok," I order F'hon, "Phase Three commencing on schedule."
---
T plus 6 hours 30 minutes
Six starships can't conquer a planet by siege. Gvochkorr knows this. With his space forces neutralized, all he has to do is sit tight while we chip away at his defence grid... and a larger Klingon force comes in to relieve him. He has the full resources of a class-M world, he can wait forever if need be.
So we're not going to chip at the defence grid.
Below the network of battle satellites, but circling above the planet itself, is the control station. The grid is semi-autonomous, but it must be monitored, serviced, held under control... and, of course, the station is a natural place to keep battle forces in reserve, ready to drop onto the planet and quash any mutinies or rebellions.
And, because the station is a nexus of military power... there is only one station. More than one, and the Nausicaans would risk division, a fragmented power base, commanders vying with each other for position in the hierarchy. That's the way the Nausicaans work - and it's a weakness.
One single station is a vital spot. And it's the one I'm aiming for.
"In position," Anthi reports.
"Fire," I order.
Phaser and disruptor cannons erupt into life, torpedos hurtle out of the launch tubes... and, from three of my ships, isometric charges shoot out, captured Klingon weapons that send devastating electromagnetic disruptions across space.
Beneath us, weapons platforms die in a flurry of fire. The autonomous systems compensate, neighbouring satellites replicating replacements to fill the gaps... but, such is the intensity of our assault, that for a few minutes, there is a gap in the grid, one big enough to fit my ships through.
Exploding satellites, and the hurtling lightnings of the isometric charges, combine to make a storm in space.
Task Group Hipparchus drops, through the eye of the storm.
---
T plus 12 hours
The Nausicaan station is an ugly conglomeration of modular parts, five kilometres at its longest point, nearly three at its widest.
There is room, in among all those modules, for all my ships to slide in... and, now, they are protected from the defence grid by the shadows of its own control centre. All we have to worry about is boarding actions by spacewalking Nausicaan marines... and there have been several attempts at those, so far unsuccessful.
Meanwhile... we have been busy.
The hangar bays of the station were laden with assault shuttles, meant for ground actions. King Estmere's Scorpion fighters swept in, turning those shuttles into a tangle of burning metal - and establishing the beachhead for our own boarding action. Now, our assault teams are fighting their way through the station, making for several precisely established targets.
I pace the bridge of the Spirits of Earth. The fighting aboard the station is savage; the Nausicaans outnumber my forces considerably, but it's a question of deployment and positioning; we have control of bulkheads and accessways that prevent the main mass of the enemy from getting to grips with us. If we can win control of the station's power and life support systems, it doesn't matter how many of them there are....
Or if we can reach another control room -
"Lolha's requesting more backup," Anthi reports. The Tellarite's assault teams are nearly at central control... but resistance, there, must be at its fiercest. I make a decision.
"Ready our remaining reserves," I order. I look towards Three of Eight. "I'll be doing this one. Three, you're with me. Bring that tactical weapons prosthesis we... found." The former Borg nods, minimally.
Anthi fails to repress a sigh. "Formally, sir, I object to your placing yourself in jeopardy like this."
"Duly noted."
Anthi sighs again. "Be careful, sir."
---
We move down the station's hallway line abreast. Three of Eight anchors one end of the line, plasma fire spitting from the captured prosthetic; I am at the other, a Romulan-made plasma minigun in my hands and the light of battle in my eyes.
Disruptor fire from the scattering Nausicaan resistance sears the air around me, stray bolts slamming into my personal shield; but that shield was designed for conditions on Nukara Prime, and it holds. The cryo immobilizer on the minigun was built for Nukara, too... when its cryonic beam combines with the intense heat of a plasma bolt, the temperature gradients have a spectacularly messy effect on Nausicaan flesh.
I stalk down the hallway, sending streams of death ahead of me, and I find myself gripped by the cold battle-lust that is the heritage of my species; the urge to destroy, to see my enemies fall before me and feel nothing more than the simple joy of killing....
We are barbarians, at heart.
And what I must look like - what we must look like, the disciplined Starfleet line of battle strung between two striding figures out of nightmare.... I can feel the rictus snarl on my face....
We reach the end of the hallway, and link up with Lolha's squad. I begin to feel the stiffness of the death-trance drain out of me. Disruptor fire scorches the air above me. "I don't suppose it's any good telling you you shouldn't be here?" Lolha asks in caustic tones.
"Not much." The snarl has frozen on my face.
"Well, don't get your fool head blown off on my watch," says Lolha. We crouch behind a barricade, and she calls up a PADD display of the situation. "They've had time to dig in here," she says, pointing. "Set up cover screens and some heavy disruptor turrets - we're hammering at their defences, they're hammering back, nobody's getting anywhere."
I study the map. "What's that there?" I ask.
"Viewport, behind the Nausicaans," Lolha grunts. "Been trying to get a space-side drone behind it, to get a look at their position."
"Never mind that." I think furiously for a moment, then open up the plasma minigun and start making adjustments. I turn up the collimation on the plasma generators to the maximum, then tune up the cryo immobilizer to maximum output and tight focus. I'm exceeding the design specs, but with luck it won't be for very long.... "I've got an idea," I say. "Pass the word: brace for decompression."
"Oh, sweet mercy, you can't be serious." Lolha looks at my face, sees I am, and passes the word.
I send a seeker drone out from beneath the barricade before I poke my head - and my gun - over it. The disruptors scream and yammer, bolts passing close enough to singe my hair. I sight the minigun and hold down the firing stud. It makes a harsh screaming noise.
Even transparent aluminium will shatter, if you subject it to the right stresses. And, fortunately, I know a lot about thermal stresses.
The Nausicaans used a poor grade of material; it shatters very satisfactorily.
The viewport explodes outwards. Even braced as I am, the impact of the torrent of air nearly knocks me off my feet. The Nausicaan troops, caught by surprise, are hurled outwards into space. The air rushes around me, howling and battering, pulling at me, deafening me with its bludgeoning noise -
Then the emergency force shield sparkles into life, and silence hits me as hard as the noise did.
There's a wet feeling on my face; I wipe the back of my hand across it, see rich cobalt-blue blood. The depressurization has given me a nosebleed... and I think the cut on my forehead has reopened, too.
"Don't do that again," Lolha moans.
I grin at her. "Make a note to patch that hole, later. Now, let's move."
---
T plus 14 hours
The technicians in the main control room fought and died with unexpected bravery. But they died.
"Pattern enhancers," I snap at Lolha.
I stand there, fretting, as the columns are set up. This is the point where we find out if the whole costly plan is going to work... and there is very little I can do, now.
Colourless light spills from the tips of the enhancers. "Energize," I order. I'm taking no chances with a random energy spike scrambling the rematerialization of my critical personnel.
Blue sparkles coalesce into two shapes; Klerupiru, tugging nervously at her collar, and Amiga, looking... inhumanly... imperturbable.
"Main control console is there," I say, pointing. "Three, help them if you can."
Three of Eight lumbers over to where the Ferengi data-warfare expert and the android are already starting to work.
They talk in a low, quick undercurrent of technicalities, one that rapidly reaches a level beyond my technical education. My hands clench on the stock of my gun, and I have to force them to relax. In many ways, this is the decisive battle of the whole campaign - and it's one where I can't fire a shot. I feel useless, helpless.
The orange-red holographic interface for the Nausicaans' computer flickers, steadies, flickers again. Klerupiru is talking about stack overflows, corrupt core dumps, recovery cycles, other stuff I can't follow. Amiga's hands are a blur, moving as fast as the control interface can handle her input. I don't know how they're doing, I can't distract them by asking. Minutes tick by.
The end is a complete anticlimax. Klerupiru simply turns towards me and says, "We did it."
"We have control?" I can scarcely believe it.
"We got it. Full root-level access."
"Uplinking to Spirits of Earth now," says Amiga smoothly. "We will download Starfleet data protection and encryption protocols - the Nausicaans will not be able to do to us what we have done to them." Almost as an afterthought, she adds, "We have full capabilities for orbital strikes against ground targets."
The feral grin comes back onto my face. "Get me a map," I say, "and get me a comms channel to Gvochkorr."
It takes them only a couple of minutes. The Nausicaan's face appears on a viewscreen, and I smile at him. He looks the same as he did last time we spoke. I am singed and bloodstained and, I realize, very, very tired. But I'm still smiling.
"Governor Gvochkorr? Are you at your gubernatorial residence? Then look out the window." And, as I say that, I hit the button.
He doesn't answer me, but he doesn't need to. I can see the reflected light in his red eyes; the reflection of one of the columns of dazzling light that have just lanced down from the sky to blast white-hot craters into the ground around his mansion.
"I have complete control of your satellite defence grid," I tell him, flatly. Nausicaans can't turn pale, their capillaries don't work that way. Gvochkorr clearly would if he could, though. "I can destroy your ground forces at will. And I will begin now, unless I receive your unconditional surrender. Right now."
The satellites have excellent ground imaging capability. I'm picking out targets already.
Gvochkorr finds his voice. "We have Federation personnel on the surface," he says, "workers in our mining camps -"
Trying to play the hostage card: any shred of respect I might have felt for him dies, right then. "We know. As the planetary administrator, you will be held accountable for their condition."
My eyes lock with his, again. I am giving him no choice. He knows it.
His grating, grudging, Nausicaan voice is music to my ears. "We... surrender."
---
T plus 22 hours
The formal surrender takes place outside the biggest of the labour camps. I have had time to catch a couple of hours sleep, to clean the blood off my face and change my uniform... I still look shabby compared to the Nausicaan's display of leathers and furs and medals. It doesn't matter. I won.
Samantha Beresford charges towards the camps, leading her medical teams, laden with medkits and food and who knows what else for the liberated prisoners. Elsewhere, disarmed Nausicaans are forming up into dejected columns, under the eyes and the phaser rifles of alert Starfleet security.
"What is to become of my people?" the former governor of Gimel Vessaris asks me.
"Those accused of abuses will stand trial under Federation law. As for the rest - repatriation via prisoner exchange, I suppose. I gather the current rate is five Nausicaan civilians for each UFP civilian, twenty Nausicaan warriors for each Starfleet officer." It never hurts to sow a little dissension, so I add, "Chancellor J'mpok doesn't appear to value your people highly."
The Nausicaan turns away with a suppressed snarl. I ignore him.
The labour camp is a dismal huddle of grey barracks and tents under a clear blue Gimel Vessaris sky. In fact, I'm not too worried about abuses of prisoners - even Nausicaans realize workers can only work if they're healthy, and the mines on this planet were meant to be productive. Still, Samantha and her medical teams will undoubtedly be needed....
Something catches my eye.
Somebody, somewhere in the camp, has found a Federation flag, and run it up a staff. Even more extraordinarily, someone has found an old Andorian flag, too, and its faded colours are fluttering in the breeze beneath the Federation one.
The breeze grows stronger, and there is a rumbling in the sky. A shadow falls over me, then is gone in an instant.
Spirits of Earth sweeps across the sky, making a low pass over the camp. Her sleek sides are still battered and scorched from the battle in space, but she moves swiftly and gracefully, her engines glowing as she streaks to the horizon.
And, from a thousand throats in the liberated prison camp, a cheer goes up, loud enough even to drown out the thunder of my ship's passage.
For a moment, my heart feels very full.
---
T plus 30 hours
"Sir?" Anthi's voice, behind me.
I turn around. She and Kophil are standing there, a short way away, in front of the pile of rubble that was once our colony's meeting hall. The years have not been kind to the remains of our settlement. "I didn't hear you beam in," I say.
She steps forward. "We thought you shouldn't be alone, sir," she says.
"I'm in no danger. The Nausicaan forces in this area have all been accounted for."
"Not quite what we meant, little Tylha," says Kophil.
I look around the ruined streets. "I'm fine," I say.
"Is this where -?" Anthi starts to ask.
"My fathers were at the trading post." I gesture towards a calcined pit, where whatever remains of them must still lie. "I'd gone over to the meeting hall to catch a video broadcast. The first pass from the Nausicaan destroyer wrecked most of the buildings...."
One minute, happy expectancy; the next, the night was a chaos of flames and screams and sick green disruptor light -
"When I picked myself up, I didn't realize what was happening. I saw one of the militia guards shooting at something, I couldn't see what. Then whatever it was shot back."
Bolts of green light streaking out of the dark, lifting him up, letting him drop back down with that terrible limpness only dead things have -
"I just stood there. Then I thought, whatever was happening, I couldn't just - I had to do something."
I couldn't die, at least, without a weapon in my hand.
"I went for his phaser. Stupid, really, I'd never handled one before, wasn't sure I could even get it to work. Never got a shot off, anyway. It was then that I saw my first Nausicaan. I don't think he saw me, he was just spraying fire at random."
A nightmare figure, all leather and fangs, weapon spitting flashes of sick light, and then the light drowned out everything, and turned into a black hell of pain and nothing -
"What was left of the militia rallied, managed a counterattack, held them long enough to get evacuation ships offplanet. I still don't know who found me and threw me on board one of those ships. I woke up two months later, in a hospital on Andoria."
I remember my left eye opening, seeing the white room about me, seeing my mothers by my bedside... knowing, even then, there could only be one reason why my fathers weren't there -
"So that was it," I say.
"You haven't talked about it before, sir," says Anthi in a small voice. "Not in that sort of detail, at least."
"It was never... appropriate." I look once more at the ruined streets. "It happened. I had all the standard post-trauma stress counselling, don't worry about that. It was all a long time ago, now...."
"This was the colony's administrative hub," says Anthi. "What about your family home, sir? Are you going back -?"
"It's gone." I shake my head ruefully. "We tried so hard to exploit resources sustainably! - The Nausicaans strip-mined that region. They left scars on this continent that won't heal in a millennium. If ever." Some scars don't heal.
"How do you feel, Tylha?" It's Kophil who asks. Anthi looks vaguely worried.
I look around, past the ruins, at the grey whale-backed mountains shining in the pale light of afternoon sun. I was born in this gravity field, grew up breathing this air... oh, it feels familiar. But it doesn't feel right any more.
"It was all a long time ago," I say. "Before the war officially started - the Federation Council made stern protests, I'll give them that, but -" I shrug.
"How do you feel?" Kophil repeats.
I raise my eyes to meet his gaze. "I'm... all right. I suppose I don't feel as much as I should... but I'm all right. I cried all my tears a long time ago," I add, in a voice so soft only another Andorian could hear it.
This place... was home. It isn't, any more. It hasn't been for a long, long time. How long, I hadn't realized, until now.
"Anyway," I say, "we've accomplished something, haven't we?"
Kophil nods. "Admiral Semok told me to tell you," says Anthi, "that a couple of hostiles showed up in the system. A squadron of frigates escorting a pirated T'lonian convoy, and a Klingon carrier looking to put into dry dock to fix a nacelle problem." She smiles, briefly. "Task Group Aristotle arranged appropriate receptions for both."
There will be a few more of those, before the word spreads. "Well," I say, "it's all a victory, isn't it?"
I breathe in. I have to get back to the ship, really; to fill out the after-action reports, to go over the cost - in materiel, in Federation lives - of this victory. But it is a victory... and we can build on it, towards the next one, and the next.
I take one last breath of Gimel Vessaris air. "Let's get back to the ship." I touch my combadge. "Shohl to Spirits of Earth. Three to beam up."
The transporter sparkles in the air around me, and the ruins dissolve into light as the beam engulfs me.
Taking me home.
Commander K?eiva sighed slightly and put down her fork as she stared over to the entry door of the mess hall. Tovan was a great first officer, and a great friend, but at times he could get a bit annoying. "Who did you find?"
Tovan dashed in front of K'eiva?s table. "My sister, Rinna, I found her."
***
"I can't believe she was here all this time," Tovan said as they walked down a newly constructed street in the equally newly constructed city on mol?Rehan. It was so new that neither the city nor the street had any names.
"I know, you've only said it twenty times, not counting how much you were talking about it when we beamed down."
Tovan gave a crooked grin, "Sorry Commander. It's just been so long."
K'eiva sighed and blinked her eyes behind the headgear she wore to protect herself from the afternoon sun. "I know, sorry."
Tovan waved it off. "Here we are, this is it," he said pointing to a door with ivy planted around it. Hardly waiting, he dashed up and knocked at the door. When it opened, he took one look at the woman who opened it, and then flung his arms around her. "Rinna, thank the Elements."
The woman looked at K'eiva with a mixture of surprise and astonishment, an expression K'eiva was familiar with finding in the mirror, given her crew.
After a few more seconds of stunned inaction, Rinna pushed Tovan off. "All right, I don't know what kind of trick this is, but it's not funny. You're not my brother, so get out before I call the watch."
K'eiva stepped forward, before Tovar could get over his shock. "I am sorry, I am Commander K'eiva, Republic Fleet. Are you Rinna Khev?"
"Yes."
"And you do have a brother?"
"Yes, but I know this isn't him, thought whatever work he got done on him isn't bad."
"Work?" K'eiva tilted her head in confusion. "Sorry, but how are you sure?"
"Simple," Rinna replied, and pointed behind her at two people approaching the scene. "I know because that is my brother."
K'eiva stared past Rinna at another man who looked a great deal like Tovan. Tovan, in the meantime, had shifted his attention from his "not-sister" to the other man, and K'eiva knew from long experience that he was building up to a boil. Strangely enough, the other man looked to be doing the same.
K'eiva glanced at the last figure, a Romulan woman, wearing Romulan Republic fleet issue, and Admiral's rank. She saluted, old style, fist to chest. "Admiral."
The Romulan returned the gesture. "Commander. I'm Admiral T'ember."
"Commander K'eiva."
"Do you know what is going on here?"
K'eiva shrugged. "Tovan here was going to visit his sister, he finally found her in a database search."
T'ember smirked slightly. "Strange, Tovan there was catching up with her now that things are settling down. We found her at Installation 18."
"So, your science officer, or mine?"
"Oh, mine, if you don't mind. She's been complaining about not having enough to do in dock."
"Fine with me."
***
Satal looked up from her readings and then over at the two Tovan's sharing a bio bed, while Rinna looked at them from across the room. T'ember and K'eiva looked up at the movement.
"Well?" asked T'ember.
"Well, that was interesting." Satal pointed at K?eiva. "Commander, your Tovan is a very very very good copy of our Tovan. I think."
"A copy?" the two Tovan's echoed, one surprised, one incredulous.
"Maybe a bit more detail?" asked T'ember again.
Satal nodded. "Sure. Our Tovan seems to be the real one. I can find no traces in his body that he is a clone, copy, transporter duplicate, or anything else. Also a computer search can account for his travels within a reasonable amount of accuracy." She paused. "The Commander's Tovan, on the other hand, has a very very slight sign of cloning, but not of a type I have heard about before. It bears some hallmarks of Elachi technology, but not all of them."
"Are you saying I'm some sort of Elachi plant?" one of the Tovan?s asked. The other looked suspiciously at him.
"I don't believe so. I can find no sign of conditioning, or any anomalous brain readings. In fact, both of your brain wave patterns are almost the same. Any differences have occurred from your different life experiences, after a certain point."
K'eiva frowned. "What do you mean, a certain point?"
Satal gestured. "I conducted interviews with both Tovan's, as you know. Their stories of their lives match perfectly, up to a certain point, a shuttle ride. Our Tovan, who met the Admiral on Virinat, ended that shuttle ride on Virinat. Your Tovan, Commander, ended that ride on a deep space colony near Nimbus. She turned to the Tovan's. ?Do you remember anything about that shuttle ride?"
"Most boring trip I ever had," they stereo-ed.
Satal nodded. "I did some more checking, looking for other passengers of that shuttle. Every one of them had the same story. I believe that during that shuttle ride, some being, for some reason, abducted Tovan, and created copies of him, who were then dispersed around the sector."
T'ember nodded, then stopped. "Wait, you said copies? There is more than these two?"
Satal nodded. "Oh yes. When I found the shuttle flight records, I checked for any anomalies. There were over 300 shuttle flights that arrived on various stations, planets, colonies, and other destinations which did not originate anywhere. Of course, some of these might be smugglers, spies, and others who did not file a flight plan. I then checked the Republic records. Given all of our problems, they are not the most accurate source, but I managed to find at least 100 other Tovan Khev's serving somewhere in the Romulan Republic, who?s DNA and other identifiers match with these Tovan Khev's perfectly. There were several hundred other records who looked similar, but whose files did not include identification markers."
The rest of the room stared at Satal in shock. T'ember recovered first. "But why?"
Rinna chimed in, "And why my brother?"
Satal shrugged. "I don't know. I alerted security, and their experts cleared our two Tovan's here based on the brain scans I had. They will be working through the rest of them, but I do not think they will find any threat. As an infiltration scheme goes, it is a very bad one. Sooner or later, one of you would meet another one of you."
"What should we do then?" Rinna asked. K'eiva noted she was looking at both Tovan's with a mix of love and pity, and K'eiva thought she understood why.
"I am sorry, I'm a doctor, but not one who could help you with this."
Rinna nodded, then squared her shoulders and marched up to the two Tovan?s. "Well, this one has been spoiling me for a bit," she pointed at one Tovan, "so I guess it's your turn. Come on you two."
Rather bemused looking, the two Tovan's followed "their" sister out of the medical ward.
"Well," said K'eiva, "that was strange."
"I don't know," commented T'ember, "the way my life goes, it's almost normal."
"So, does your Tovan hold his ale any better than mine?"
"Probably not, and his singing voice isn't any better either I'll bet."
"Thanks Satal," T'ember said as the two officers walked out of the med bay. Satal waved casually in reply.
"So commander," added T'ember as they walked the hallways of central command, "I looked you up while we were waiting. An impressive record, and I would thank you, personally, for the action at Brea."
K'eiva tensed. "Not everyone would think so. Some of our allies and D'Tan would have liked Hakive to stand trial."
"Some people didn?t see Hakeve blow away half the people they lived with."
The two shared an understanding glance.
"Speaking of such, I also understand that you are waiting on a new ship to command."
"Yes Admiral," K'eiva replied, sinking back into formality.
T'ember nodded in acknowledgement of the shift. "I'm working up a small roving command with D'Tan's permission, with orders to seek out trouble and deal with it. I understand you have some Klingon contacts among our allies?"
K'eiva nodded.
"I hope to have the same soon among the Federation. Between the members of this command, I hope that we will have at least one commander and crew who will be welcomed by friends, or able to pursue our foes where ever they may hide." She smirked slightly at K'eiva. "You understand my meaning?"
"Yes Admiral," she replied.
"If you wish, I can get you a command under me, a sister ship to my own flag. Would you be interested?"
"Yes," K'eiva couldn?t really help the squeak her voice came out in, and she blushed as T'ember smiled slightly.
"Well then, report tomorrow morning to space dock three, and I'll meet you there to show you your new ship. It's still in the building stage, so it's a good time if you want to make any changes."
K'eiva let the grin show on her face. "I'm an engineer by trade, you don't have to ask." She paused, then went on slower. "But, why are you offering this to me? We just met."
"Well, I have seen your record, and I like what I saw, but there is another reason." T'ember smiled. "This way, I can keep bothering my Tovan with yours."
K'eiva giggled, and blushed again when she saw T'ember smile. She hated it when people saw her giggle, but at least T'ember, that is, the Admiral, wasn't teasing her about it. "You're not worried about it then?" she asked, trying to get back under proper military decorum.
"No. Not the weirdest thing I've seen. There was this one day in the Azura Nebula looking for an anomaly, now that was weird." The two officers walked off, talking shop.
***
In a remote corner of subspace, a hooded figure clicked to himself. The Elachi had taken everything from his race. Their technology, their space, their pride, their hope. Well, maybe not all of their hope. Ever since first contact with the strangely intelligent aliens and the release of the probe into their space, he had followed their doings with interest. He even believed that they were just as intelligent as his race, something the others had still doubted. Of course, there weren?t that many to doubt any more, since the Elachi. But yes, he believed in them, which was why he had taken a few unauthorized samples when the Elachi were driving them back. Not even taken, just borrowed for a time, and then replaced. Along with adding a few extras. His instruments had told him these ones, these "Romulans" as the lifeforms referred to them, were tied with the Elachi, and he had chosen well. His creations, "children" another alien concept, had opposed the Elachi as he had thought they would. His race may be dying, may be dead, but they would be avenged. Which left him one strange question to while away his existence. He waved and light slowly filled the room he was in, revealing rows upon rows of tubes, each with a single figure in it. What to do with the spares?
Nouveau riche LTS member
"Earth date November 27 2385. Many people say that I'm weird using the old earth calendar instead of star date. But I grew up using both and begun to appreciate the old calendar more, since this is a personal log to begin with I don't see why not. Val can't wait tell tomorrow, It's finally the day, Were going to test out the History. Cherry can't quit smiling; we've been working on this ship for nearly five years now. Truth be told, I wish we could push it back. I don't think she read, there is a lot of experimental tech on her, and the design itself is experimental. Nelve says I'm warring too much and being over protective of our ship" (He sighs) "my ship."
Historical bays on the USS.History, going past holograms of historical captains and important people, Admiral Archer, Admiral Kirk, Captain Picard, ect. Leading two to holograms that looked exactly alike.
"I can't tell the difference." Commander Nathanial Parker couldn't laugh when he saw these two together, "So what brings you here, Doc."
Voyagers EMH MK 1 gave the commander a dry look, which quickly turned into a worm smile ?It doesn?t rally catch my rugged handsomeness. How have you been since your last visit to the fleet?? He asked all of a sudden.
Nathanial Shook his head "You know I don't like delivering ships to the fleet. I have to stay there a few weeks with the new crew, testing new systems and getting the crew adjusted to the new ship." Once again the commander sighed "So you're asking how I been, I'm dreading this moment, my stomach is in cramps and I'm not sleeping well."
"I could look into that if you want?"
"No thank you, Doc. What are you doing here anyways?"
The Doctor looks away out the window "That's why" he pointed out the Window to the USS.Glen under just a few kilometers away in a dry dock. As far as Nathanial could tell it was either undergoing repairs or a complete refit
"It's that time already?"
The Doctor gave him another dry look, "you know very well that all the ships in the fleet needs a refit by now."
"I guess that's true."
"More importantly Nate, I thought you would be happier, your dream finally being realized."
Nathanial scuffs his feet on the relatively new deck plating, "I am happy. Then I think that in a months' time I'll be handing her over to Captain Paris, with the best helmsman in Starfleet" he sighs again "I just don't know."
The Doctor steps over to Nathanial and pats him on the Back. "Don't worry Tom will take care of her, if something happens I'll make sure he pays, and if I don't B'Elanna will."
Silence stretches out between them as they look out the window at the ships being built or refitted. There were everything from the new experimental Emissary class ships to nova class's being refitted to the Rhode Island class specifications.
Finally the Doctor looked over at Nathanial, "Now that that's settled up for some gulf tomorrow?"
The Commander smiled despite himself "Love to, but can't." the doctor looked a bit disappointed, but before he could say anything Nathaniel continued "Admirals orders, History's going for three day test flight tomorrow, but when I get back."
"And Reg was looking forward to it to." The Doctor started walking to the door, "You must be busy then, I shouldn't keep you any longer," Waved back as he walked out "I'll see you in three days then"
After a few moments Nathanial fallows him out the door but makes way to the turbo lift. "deck four"
The turbolift wines as it starts to move up to deck four. Nathaniel quietly leaves walking a short distance to a door and enters into his temporary quarters. The light is on but he ignores it, he was certain that he had them off when he left, but he could already guess who was there.
Suddenly a voice comes out of nowhere, "You know Nat, it wouldn't hurt to spruce the place up a bit."
Nathanial Parker moved over to his table and sat down with a pad in his hand before replying sarcastically "and it wouldn't hurt to ask before entering someone's room. I thought you were razed better than that?
"I was, but we've shared everything since the academy, why stop now."
Commander Minami Negox, the half Xindi came out of the refreshsure, Hair wet and her uniform hanging loosely on her body. Nathanial looked up long enough to gave her a look that said give him another story
"If you didn't put a shower in all the officer quarters, and then lock said quarters all except for one, it's the only place outside of earth that I can get a shower."
Minami moved and sat across from him, "I don't know why you never decorate the quarters you keep on the ships you build, you've live on the History for what six months now, since the Environmental controls have been installed."
"Five months twenty-six hours, give or take half an hour."
"You're still upset about having to give her up." She didn't wait for a reply "You should be happy about this, I remember you talking about the History Design back at the academy, and you always loved this ship, every aspect of it. Nelve still tells me about your time on the Luna, and you always talking about it. so don't give me that impartial look you always give."
Nathanial reached over and put his hand on top of hers, "Mina, the truth is, it's killing me. I don't want to give up this ship, or Val to Captain Paris. If I could I would step down as a ship designer and captain her myself." Nathanial looked out the window of his quarters. "I just got done telling the Doc this."
"The Glens back then?" he nodded, "huh, there ahead of schedule. Nate don't let this get to you, there's much more for you to do here and besides you love designing ships" She stands up, "But first we have to get through the next few days."
"Acting Captains log Earth date December 1 2385. It's been two days since we left space dock. The tests are running smoothly. That being said the day I dread is the most is coming closer by the second, the day I turn this ship over to Captain Tomas Paris. We still have three tests until we start the journey to the delta quadrant first is the major weapons test, followed by the slipstream skip and finally the slipstream drive."
A chime at his door interrupted Commander Nathanial, as he was recording his log, "Computer pause recording." He turned from his desk to face the door, "Enter"
A Furangi walks in and goes directly to the replicater without stopping, "Want anything Nate?"
"No thanks Nalvi, What up?" he looked at his monitor, "What are you doing up anyways it's O five hundred?"
Lieutenant Commander Nalvi order his cup of coffee and went over to the table before answering his friend, "the same thing I've been doing for the past three days! Working on your bloody slipstream drive."
"What's wrong with it?" Nathanial Asked with a disappointing look on his face. His old friend had never before had a problem with slipstream drives, he was known as one of the exports on them in the federation, there only being three and all.
Nalvi sighed, "Every time the slipstream core is initiated, it shuts itself back off. Along with a half a dozen other systems."
"Did you run?"
Nalvi through his hands up, "Do you think I'm a cadet right out of the academy. Of course I've ran every scan on the core, the crystalline chamber and for good measure the diagnostic tools. I wouldn't put it pact my staff to run a joke like this on me. Everything running perfectly."
"What do you think it is then?" he looked over at his computer and brought up the slipstream drive schematics and brought them up on the wall monitor.
Nalvi shook his head, "I don't know Nate. We designed this engine of scratch. I told you when we designed it that it wasn't worth the paper it was it was designed on. But you proved me wrong, this engine works. The thing is I don't think it can handle both the skip and the drive. We even need two separate cores for the warp drive and the slipstream."
"So your saying that if we took one off line and just went with the one it should work."
Nalvi shook his head again, "There's no guarantee that it will. Besides the drive is for long term travel, while the skip is for battle, it wouldn't be easy to switch between them if we have to take one off."
Nathanial scratched his chin "How long would it take?"
"Twenty maybe thirty minutes each time."
He thought about it for a moment, "Do it, but take a team and make a program that will speed up the process."
"Alright," Nalvi got up and headed to the door, "I hope we're doing the right thing with this engine."
"Acting Captains log Earth date December 8th 2385, it's been days since the slipstream drive accident. During fight the skip transfer program started causing the ship to go out of control. Luckily no one was harmed and the ship was not destroyed. But for every ounce of good luck there is bad luck. We are trapped inside a large nebula, it's very volatile and any modern way of moving the ship will cause it to explode, but we are drifting out by out selves, albeit slowly. By normal means we won't make it, so I've ordered the construction of stasis pods, and will activate the emergence hologram systems before we enter. I don't know how long it will take but...I just hope this works.
"Nate wake up!" the light was binding someone was hovering over him, he couldn't tell who, "Nathaniel Parker, get up, Now!"
"Yes ma'am." as he said this her face finally came into view, "are we out Mina?"
His first officer nodded "But there's something disturbing."
He was sitting up now, "What is it?"
"A distress call."
"Help me, we need to get up to the bridge."
Nathaniel got to the bridge with Minami's help, and sat in his chair, "Report."
"According to the star movements, were somewhere near the Bata quadrant and delta quadrant border. Around the year 2395." A ensign at the operations station reported
"And the distress call?"
"Federation in origin, but that's all we can tell."
"Good," he taped his Combadge, "Nalvi, is the slip stream skip working." Nalvi and his team was woken up days before to cheek over the ship.
"it is cap, but I don't know for how long, we never fully tested the drive, with the accident and all."
"I want you down there monitoring the drive. Val," he turned to his little cousin at the con, "I want us just close enough so we can that we can get a scan of what's happening."
"Ay ay, cus." she turned back to her station and set out to work. Under a minuet they were in range.
"Captain there's a message coming in." it was the ensign a the opps station.
"show me what happening first."The view scream lit up. It was a battle, no more of a blood bath, there was one sovereign class facing what looked to be three emissary?s, and two defiant. "What does the message say?"
There was a lot of static as the message played, ?This is captain ..ta of the starship Enterprise. We are under attack by ... any a... respond."
"Sir the Enterprises warp core is going critical."
"Val slipstream skip, beam as many off her as we can we have only one chance, I really don't want to face tree capital ships by ourselves."
"Captains Log June 5th 2396, we're at war, With ourselves. I never thought this would happen. Ten years we've been gone from the federation, and a war breaks out. According to Captain Data and his acting first officer lieutenant Miral Paris it all started after the an attack on Earth Section 31 came out of hiding and took over a good portion of the fleet. Abolishing the old system and setting up a monarchy centered around their leader a member of the old British royal family. As I am not a real captain I am allowing my crew to decide for themselves what they want to do. I for one am going to fight. Fight for the freedoms of the federation that I grew up in."
Fed: http://sto-forum.perfectworld.com/showthread.php?t=780321
RR: http://sto-forum.perfectworld.com/showthread.php?p=12150781#post12150781
KDF: http://sto-forum.perfectworld.com/showthread.php?t=784941
"Attention all hands, this is the Admiral speaking," Bryan said, speaking into the intercom, "We have arrived at Risa. We will be spending two to four weeks here for diplomatic talks, so you are all granted extended shore leave for the duration. First shuttles to the surface will launch in fifteen minutes. I will signal you all one day prior to departure. That is all."
Bryan sat back a little and gazed around the Bridge. Slowly, checking their stations one last time, they began to file out and into the turbolift. Soon, Bryan was the only one left on the bridge. He stood up and glanced at his chair. Sighing slightly, he walked over to the turbolift.
"Observation lounge," He called, and the lift sped away. The doors opened to reveal a spacious, but empty, room, with several tables, a bar, a kitchen area, and a large window that gave an impressive view of the space around the ship. He stepped into the room and leaned against a wall nearby the window, staring out into the empty black void.
"I'm surprised to still see you on board," Someone said from the entrance, causing Bryan to glance over.
"Ibalei," He replied turning back to the window. "I could say the same about you, you know."
"Not an answer," she said, smiling a little as she walked over to him.
Bryan laughed, shaking his head a little. "I grew up on ships. The faint groaning of the bulkheads is more home to me than a planet ever will be."
They were both silent for a moment. "You know, in all the time I've been on this boat, I don't think I've ever walked the entire length of the ship," Bryan said, looking around the room.
"Mind if I join you?" Ibalei asked. "I haven't really had the chance either."
Bryan smiled. "Of course not."
After several minutes of walking, they arrived at their first destination. The door to the main fire control room hissed open gently to reveal a woman with long brown hair standing at the console.
"Avalrez?" Bryan said, causing the Athena's chief tactical officer to look up briefly. "What are you still doing aboard?"
"Recalibrating the targeting systems," she replied.
Bryan shook his head. "Avalrez, you should be relaxing."
"But, sir, recalibrating the targeting systems is relaxing!"
Bryan sighed. "Carry on, Avalrez."
He and Ibalei left the room and continued walking through the ship.
"She works far too much," Ibalei said with a slight sigh.
"I'm not sure she even considers it work," Bryan replied, shaking his head.
They continued walking. They passed some crew members occasionally, but for the most part, the massive ship was completely empty. Whenever they came upon a major section of the ship, they stopped to look in briefly before continuing their tour. Eventually, they arrived at the main sickbay, where Syiseda was still sitting at her desk working busily.
"I know, I know," She said, speaking to someone over her console. "I still have a few more reports to file though. I'll be down as soon as I can." She paused, listening to the person's response. "Yes, I know. I'll be down in a little while." Another pause, this time ending with her laughing a little. "I love you too. I'll see you soon."
"Who was that?" Bryan asked, causing the Betazoid woman to nearly jump out of her chair.
"Sir, I didn't hear you approach," she replied, still slightly startled. "That was...ummm..."
"Let me guess," Bryan said, smiling a little, "Lieutenant Mckenzie Lennis?"
"Yes, sir," she replied, looking down.
Bryan walked up to her. "How long have you two been together?"
"A few months," She said, " I'll tell her that we need to break it off as soon as I can."
"Why?"
"Starfleet has regulations about fraternization and-"
"And a ship's commanding officer has the final say in how regulations such as that are enforced. My only rule is that you not let your relationship interfere with your duties. I have actually noticed an increase in efficiency from both you and Lieutenant Lennis. As a result, what you two do in your spare time is your buisness."
"You don't even care that she's-"
"A woman? Why would I? Especially when I have a half-Romulan sister who has a Reman woman as a lover, and I consider her to be more family to me than even my parents."
Syiseda laughed. "Point taken, sir."
Bryan smiled. "Go ahead and head to the surface. Your reports can wait a little while."
"Are you sure? It shouldn't take much-"
"That's an order Lieutenant."
"Oh, fine," She replied getting up from her seat, smiling brightly. Just before she left the room, she turned and said, "Thank you for understanding, Bryan."
"Of course," Bryan replied, smiling as well.
Bryan and Ibalei eventually found themselves back in the Athena's observation lounge. They walked to the window and leaned against the wall near the window.
"Athena," Bryan called, "Could you cut the lights in this room?"
"Sure thing," The AI replied, and the lights turned off, leaving the room lit only by the soft, blue reflection from Risa's oceans.
Ibalei rested her head on Bryan's shoulder, "Earlier, you said that this ship feels like home to you. Would you like to know where home is for me?" She asked.
"Where?" Bryan replied.
She smiled, closing her eyes. "Where ever you are is more home to me than anything else in the entire galaxy."
Bryan smiled, kissing her gently. "You're far too nice, Ibalei."
She shifted slightly, leaning against Bryan now. "No. You humans have a saying: Home is where the heart is. My heart belongs with you.
Bryan looked out of the window silently for a minute. Finally, he replied, "In that case, I hope that you never have to leave your home."
Ibalei looked into his eyes and smiled. "Don't worry. I never will."
Commanding officer: Odyssey class U.S.S. Athena
Admiral of the 1st Assault Fleet
Join date: Some time in Closed Beta
"I'm glad you all can make it. I'm Aidan M'urra, captain of the Purifier. Or what's left of it. This is the matter I needed to speak to you all with." He puts a PADD on the table, and plays a holo .
J'mpok, scowling at the captain, growled. "What is this?"
"That, Jimmy, is the new Tal Shiar fleet. Scimitars.", Aidan said as he walked carefully around Melani D'ian. This was a diplomatic gathering. He had no interest in being enticed.
The Klingon growled again. "Scimitars?! Only Sela had access to those weapons of destruction and even then there weren't that many. This is a trick."
This made Aidan angry, and he placed a holo on the table. "A trick? A trick killed my crew, nearly destroyed my ships then.."
The holo powers up with a whirr, and it flashes back to his adventure, where the real story begins...
I was escorting hospital ships, along with a Chel Grett and Terran Empire Prometheus I salvaged, in the Tau Dewa sector, when I first spotted them. The Tal Shiar's fleet. It was the usual: Mogais, D'deridex, and Dhelan warbirds. Then there were these Remans. They were forced to hand over their Scimitar construction facilities and were killed afterwards. I took my battleship in for a closer look, and two Mogai escorts decloaked behind us and escorted us out of the system. We could have taken them easily, but I had no interest in picking a fight with the entire Tal Shiar fleet. Hours went by and we went through the Carraya system. I had the Chel Grett scout ahead while the Prometheus and I were busy with or separation sequences. D'Tan and Captain Shon can corroborate on this next part.
Two Republic T'varo-class warbirds and the Enterprise warped in with my... convoy. Remember those two Mogai escorts? Yeah they came back... with a few Scimitars.
I ordered Shon and the T'varo warbirds to get the hospital ships out. Then I ordered the Prometheus, the saucer and I to directly engage the Scimitar as the Chel Grett fired the energy dissipator. It did not even phase it. Both Scimitars let out a barrage of disruptor fire, and my Galaxy's augmented shielding barely held, but my engineers are highly skilled, and were able to bring them back to full. I then ordered everything to be fired at once. The Prometheus and Chel Grett eventually fell to fire, and I was able to disable one of the Scimitars. In a last ditch effort, I rammed the other Scimitar, killing the command crew of the large warbird. That's actually what killed my crew.
The holo clicks off and by this time, Shon is tired, Kurland is bored, Melani is in Aidan's lap and J'mpok is on his sixteenth bloodwine. D'Tan has left to oversee the Flotilla
So... I leave this information in your hands. I'm not paid to worry about Scimitars, however I was paid to deliver the schematics to build your own. So gentleman, I'm taking the lady out for a wonderful evening, you have the schematics, do what you need to do...
He walks out of the room, and the leaders look at each other and depart not long after.
END
Dreadnought class. Two times the size, three times the speed. Advanced weaponry. Modified for a minimal crew. Unlike most Federation vessels, it's built solely for combat.
After my promotion to Vice Admiral, Starfleet has commissioned a new starship for me, since my previous ship has been destroyed,an Odyssey Tactical Cruiser, called U.S.S. Alliance. Though I would appreciate a week-long vacation on the Risa System, I am called not only from duty, but from vengeance too. I now have the much needed time to take a more substantial role in the Omega Force, to take arms against the Borg Collective. Starfleet Command wants me to report, but I've been given a month off to do whatever I want, and I plan to make the most of the time. Other than that, I'm satisfied with my ship and it's crew, which is good since we've been given the leadership of a small squadron of cruisers and escorts, about half a dozen of them. Instead of being in secret operations they want us in the front lines of the conflict. Though I do not know how I feel about this, I'm excited, not only for the adventures that await, but also because we have a new Betazoid bridge officer. Despite my 7 year experience, I've never made contact with a Betazoid, and this is an exciting event for me. I hope our first contact goes well, and our encounters with the Borg are successful too.
Vice Admiral Sodin Ram out.
Her conversation partner shrugged, before moving off to categorise some scalpels. Sovos had always been a rather strange Vulcan; one who wished to sort all things into logical categories, even if it would be illogical to waste so much time doing so. Of course, would it not be logical to do such a thing as an exercise to sharpen one's mind when there was nothing else to do?
"Yes," replied the doctor, turning to face her best friend. "It is rather illogical. What do you assume the reason for such an occurrence is?"
Rufa shrugged. She had never really thought about why. Reasons had never really appealed to her, although if she planned on ever being assigned a command, then she'd have to start thinking about them more and more. Compared to her people, Starfleet put a lot of emphasis on learning about reasonings and everything. It was all such a bother, but it was a bother she would have to get used to.
"The same reasoning for the Vice Admiral's love of snowball fights?" offered the security chief. "I dunno Vossy; I'm not really a reasons type of person."
"Please prevent yourself from referring to me as 'Vossy'," said Sovos, a hint of what could barely be discerned as annoyance, or at least, Vulcan annoyance, showing in her tone. "It is illogical to refer to me as thus, especially in a professional setting such as a starship."
"Vossy, we work for Starfleet."
Sovos raised an eyebrow. Although her friend had completely disregarded her wishes to not be referred with such a ... demeaning nickname, she was legitimately curious about what exactly the younger officer's statement meant.
"And, how does such a statement relate to the conversation?"
There was a grin on Rufa's face as she leaned forward, as if to share some sort of secret or juicy piece of gossip. The combination of such a grin and her reflective eyes, which seemed to be shining brighter than before, gave her a rather ... mischievous appearance.
"First of all - we have no dress code. I was on Earth Spacedock two weeks ago, looking for Captain Sulu, and I saw a commander talk to Admiral Quinn while wearing khakis. The admiral didn't even bat an eyelash!"
It was rather fascinating hearing of such an interesting anecdote, but Sovos still did not see how that really related to the topic.
"And second of all," continued the security officer, "we can do whatever we want with our weaponry and things. I'm pretty sure the vice admiral convinced Otep and Corpsa to install some plasma weapons stolen from the Tal Shiar on our ship. And I use a sword! I wave it around and stab Klingons with it! This is the age of shooty lasers, and I stab things with a sword!"
"The Klingon Empire continues to use the bat'leth even to this day-"
Rufa waved a hand, rudely cutting her friend off. "Most of all, I saw Sam and Jular making out right outside the bridge yesterday."
Any retort that would have found their way to the tip of Sovos' tongue was instantly quashed by this new revelation. She was privy to the relationship between their operations and sciences officers, of course - the entire crew (except for the new Romulan exchange officer, who had not been with them long enough) knew of the relationship. But the fact that the two were doing such things on-duty? This piece of gossip was ... remarkably fascinating.
"Continue," she said, now completely intrigued.
"Weren't you talking about me going off-topic just before?" asked Rufa, a bit annoyed at the hypocrisy. "Let me finish, okay? I'll tell you about that stuff later."
Sovos reluctantly nodded. She could wait several more minutes.
"So anyway, all this stuff happens, and the higher-ups don't really care. Professional isn't what we should be calling Starfleet! So it is untrue that our ship is a professional setting!"
"... You decided to engage in such a long-winded spiel in order to prove that we do not work in a professional setting?"
The security chief gave a shrug. "Well, that's about it ... yeah."
There was a rather tense and awkward moment between the two, before Sovos realised that she had wanted to learn about the deeper workings of her superiors' romantic entanglements. Usually she would have returned to her categorising by now, but such fascinating gossip? She needed to acquire the information.
"Commander Jones and Lieutenant Commander Hajiben?"
"Right," said Rufa with cheer, leaping off her chair. "So you see ... the two of them ha-"
At that very moment, the ship's klaxons went off, signalling a shift to red alert. The USS Oceania had entered battle, and from the immense shaking, it was obvious that their commanding officer had decided to charge straight into a fleet of Klingons again.
Rufa sighed. It looked like she wasn't going to tell the story after all. "The next time I have a break, I'll tell you. Right now, I need to head to the bridge and whack Tepon."
Such was life on the USS Oceania and its hard-working crew members. Nobody ever knew when they would be called to battle, or if they needed to bail out their impulsive captain. Every single one of them knew their duties, and would complete them with great enthusiasm, even if they were supposed to be on break.
There was a reason their motto was "there is no such thing as a holiday", after all.
Seconds later, Sovos paused, the Vulcan doctor having been in the midst of picking up gear for the inevitable injuries that would follow the battle. "Wait, what was the conversation about in the first place?"
As Dylen's fighter screamed toward the Iconian asteroid, she ruminated bitterly. It had been three weeks since the Val'Hannorr became trapped in the strange pocket space. That's right, the wormhole didn't just snap shut behind them, it collapsed. The only way left for them to return to normal space was to build the prototype Iconian warp device.
That meant deciphering the Iconian language (a dead language which had not been heard in two hundred thousand years), repair the Iconian repository storage system (a dead technology which hadn't functioned in just as long), build the warp device (a technology which ostensibly had never been built or tested), and adapt the device to Romulan technology. An impossible task, as a whole, but Dylen had no intention of being marooned forever; failure would not be tolerated.
"We have you on final approach, Commander," the comms crackled, shattering her reverie. "Welcome back. If you don't mind my saying, Commander, your arrival is well-timed."
Suppressing a wave of anger, Dylen inquired icily, "What's happened now?"
"I couldn't say for certain," the comm officer replied. "There was some kind of alert in the repository. I believe there were casualties."
Dylen shook her head and sighed as she spotted an oily plume of smoke oozing out into space, "Fine. I'll be there momentarily."
The commander flicked her comms off with a snarl and eased the fighter down in the plaza outside the repository. She leaped down out of the Scorpion and stalked across the plaza, ready to cause all manner of unfortunate events. With every step down the hall leading into the repository, however, her rage cooled, replaced by her icy steadiness.
Her eyes slid over the room with a disinterested familiarity. She'd seen the strange architecture with its odd angles dozens of times in the last few weeks; the words and symbols on the walls, ceilings and even the floors remained a mystery to her, one that - despite their predicament - she couldn't care less to solve herself. The conduits running along the entire structure hummed eerily and pulsed with a purple plasma that set her teeth on edge and filled her mouth with a weird metallic taste.
Then there was the bulky, painfully-designed console in the center of the room. It rose up out of the flooring like an alien sculpture, delicately touching all the walls and the ceiling where the purple conduits ran into it like tree roots. Every time she laid eyes on it, Dylen felt a deep, primal fear rise up her spine. It took an effort of will to not run in terror from the thing, but if it was one thing the commander had, it was will.
Dylen took a deep breath and bellowed, "Subcommander Latres! Report!"
Within seconds, Latres appeared, weaving his lean, hard form through the throng of scientists all looking for something to do away from the commander and her legendary wrath. He smiled widely, a bright showing of teeth that never touched his frigid eyes. "Commander, good timing."
"I heard," the commander harrumphed. "The accident."
Latres' smile vanished into a look of confusion, "What...? Oh, that. No, not because of that."
"What happened?"
The subcommander snorted derisively, "I gave an engineer, Lieutenant Tomor, the job of prototyping the power distribution system of the Iconian ship gate, and he proved to be the lesser for the task." When he saw that she was not appeased, he elaborated, "He tried to hook up the small singularity core from one of our shuttles to the Iconian plasma conduits. The result, of course, was quite interesting. Somehow, the residual Iconian plasma left in the coils altered the gravity of our artificial singularity, and it exploded. That smoke billowing out of the building is a result of all the matter the core 'sucked up' before it flared. Incidentally, there are probably some bits of Tomor in the smoke as well, on an atomic scale, anyway; the resultant fission reaction atomized the fool."
Commander Dylen nodded once, a sign that she understood and was no longer interested. "And currently?" She inquired.
"We took our knowledge of the Dewan and Dinasian languages and gained a very spare but working knowledge of Iconian," Latres started ticking off fingers. "That gave us access to the gate schematics," he ticked another finger. "Now I have half a dozen teams working on different facets of the device. Some of my team are also still working on the Iconian language and their database, mostly the telepaths. They seem to have an unusual...affinity for the work and there's much more we can learn here."
Dylen leaned in and whispered, "Telepaths? Are you sure?"
"Indeed, Commander," Latres mumbled back. "Contrary to popular belief, we didn't completely lose our telepathic genes after the schism with Vulcan. It's rare, but with testing and proper training, the latent talents can be nurtured. And the Tal'Shiar has been more than willing to provide that...environment, particularly since the home world was lost."
That left Dylen seriously intrigued, but it was purely academic if they couldn't escape pocket space. "How long?" She asked icily.
The subcommander furrowed his brow, "We should have something by the end of the day. If we're lucky, we may have a working prototype by tomorrow, and begin the adaptation phase then. I project that we'll have a working device fitted to the Val'Hannorr by the end of the week."
Dylen nodded and pursed her lips. "You have three days," she announced casually, then turned on her heel and strode from the repository.
***
Three days passed and Dylen hadn't returned to the asteroid, but something was beginning to affect the ship. Events started a couple of days earlier as rumors, stories of wild nightmares and crying in the night. It escalated from there, rapidly and disastrously.
Crew members started complaining that they felt like they were being watched, some even said something was trying to get into their heads. After that, paranoia and aggression began to take over; fights broke out and several crew members were killed. When exhaustion finally took over, the afflicted crew couldn't wake up. Now there were entire decks that echoed with their screams.
Dylen kept a running tally of the affected in her mind, watched them as they declined. It was interesting, she noted, that the only ones in distress were telepathic.
The commander refused to let on, but fatigue and rage were taking over her as well; she had also seen the nightmares, felt the icy, phantom fingers in her mind. Images of panic and fear reached out, Iconian voices grabbed at her from beyond the grave for help she could never give. They hounded her constantly, fraying her around the edges, but the pictures that shook her to her core, that really terrified her, were disjointed reflections of shadowy, statuesque figures towering over her.
The more she fought it, the more insistent the force became. That is, until she figured out what was happening and let it in...
***
The main viewer on the bridge of the Val'Hannorr flicked on. "Subcommander Latres to Commander Dylen. Are you there, Commander?"
Dylen sat hunched in her seat, haggard and weary from recent experiences. "I'm here, Latres." His location looked familiar, so she studied the screen, finally asking, "Where are you?"
"I'm in Engineering, Commander," he replied. "Preliminary tests of the completed device showed promise, so I returned and installed it on board. We're running power tests now, and should be ready to return to normal space soon." Latres paused and leaned close to his console, "Commander, you look terrible."
Commander Dylen sniffed as she straightened up in her chair. "Not sleeping well," she hissed, "I'm somewhat eager to get under way."
Latres nodded dismissively, "Powering up now, Commander." The subcommander tapped a key on his console and suddenly the screen went black. Seconds later, a sound like tortured metal echoed up the side of the ship and the bridge heaved.
"What's going on? Latres?" Dylen smashed her comms key, "Someone get down to Engineering and tell me what's going on!"
Minutes passed like years as the commander waited for a response. Eventually, an audio channel opened, "Commander? Uhlan Vogor in Engineering. It's a mess down here."
"Vogor," Dylen sighed in what would count as relief in anyone else. "What happened down there, Vogor?"
"It looks like a power conduit exploded, Commander," Vogor answered. "My med team and I are searching for survivors, but none so far."
There was a long pause in which nearly anyone else would find themselves overwhelmed with concern, terror even, for their closest friend. Once again, Dylen proved that she was not "anyone." "Who is my engineering chief now?" She snapped her fingers, "Lieutenant...Tactical? What's your name?"
"Lieutenant Enva, Commander," the woman squeaked.
"Great," Dylen snapped. "You can answer a question. Now how about answering my other question? Who is chief of engineering now?"
Enva's brow furrowed, "After the Wormhole, it was Subcommander Duva, then after the Borg it was Lieutenant Tomor...."
Dylen arched an eyebrow, "Enough with the history lesson, Tactical, give me the name."
"Sorry, Commander," Enva peeped. "If she survived this explosion, I believe the next in line is Uhlan Wa'Rel."
"That's an interesting name," the commander huffed.
The lieutenant's gaze slid away in embarrassment, "She's...uh, from Carraya IV, Commander."
Commander Dylen broke into side-splitting laughter. "Carraya IV? The defunct Tal'Shiar prison planet?"
"Yes, Commander," Enva winced.
"So my tech chief is half-Klingon?" She wiped a tear from her eye.
Lieutenant Enva cleared her throat, "I'm not sure I understand the joke, Commander."
Dylen smirked, "No? Let's see... We have a hard-nosed leader, me, an emotionally-stunted Second, Latres - assuming he's still alive, a wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant, you, an able-but-overlooked doctor, Vogor, and this half-breed engineer. We're one plucky sidekick away from being a Federation vessel!"
Her bitter, raucous laughter was interrupted by the comms, "Commander, Vogor here. You should come down to medbay."
"On my way," she coughed.
***
Soon after, Dylen marched into medbay where Uhlan Vogor waited with a heavy face and green blood caking his clothes. "Why am I here, Vogor?"
The uhlan nodded and stepped aside to reveal a wounded but very alive Subcommander Latres. His entire torso was bandaged and bleeding through, as was his head, and one arm was slung in a bio-cast. To his credit, he was awake and quite alert.
"Commander," a female voice said from behind her.
Dylen turned and backed into the room, out of the doorway. Right behind her was an unusually tall woman, with the chiseled features and slightly pointed ears of a Romulan, but the distinct brow ridges of a Klingon. "You must be Uhlan Wa'Rel," she nearly smirked.
"Yes, ma'am," Wa'Rel answered flatly, glaring down at her commanding officer.
The commander smiled slightly at that. The girl had guts, probably from her Klingon parent. She was even willing to forgive the "ma'am" this one time. "Why aren't you in Engineering, Wa'Rel?"
Wa'Rel shrugged, "There's no need, Commander. The damage was minimal, limited to secondary systems."
Commander Dylen sniffed in approval, "Well that's good..."
"It's not that good, Commander," Wa'Rel interrupted. "If Subcommander Latres had been standing where he was supposed to be, he would have been killed."
Dylen stopped short, "Wait. What do you mean 'supposed to be?'"
"He was supposed to be standing at the primary engineering console when the Iconian warp device was powered up," Wa'Rel explained. "Instead, he powered it up from a secondary console so that he could use the communications array there as well." She paused, letting that sink in a little before continuing, "That's the good news. The bad news is that the Iconian device is unharmed. There wasn't even a hint of damage to it."
The commander winced and her face darkened, "Which means that the explosion was sabotage." She stopped and thought for a moment. "Lieutenant Enva," she called out and was immediately annoyed at herself for staring at the ceiling like everyone else did when using the ship's intercom. "How many science teams are still on the asteroid?"
"Four teams, Commander," Enva replied. "Twenty-four individuals in total."
"Good. Transfer them an industrial replicator, some food replicators and tell them to make themselves at home while continuing their work." Dylen whirled on Wa'Rel, "You. Get back to Engineering and make sure that we're ready to go. I want no mistakes." Then, she rounded on Latres, laboring to breathe in his bed, "Subcommander, I need you on the bridge. And Vogor? Hand me that datapad. I need to make a list and time is extremely short."
***
Dylen was whistling pleasantly as she strolled onto the bridge, tapping the datapad in time with her tune; Enva shuddered visibly at the sight. "Good to see you back where you belong, Latres," she trilled. "Is the warp device ready?"
Subcommander Latres nodded in agony.
"Good," the commander beamed without actually looking to see his response. "Take us home, Latres."
The grievously wounded man gingerly pecked a sequence of keys at his station with his one functional hand, and slowly, the walls began to hum all around them. Within moments, a charge began to build up all over; through the main viewer they could see bolts of purple lightning arcing off the hull. The arcs started to focus in the front of the ship, forming a ring. As the energy discharge concentrated, images began to form at its nexus. Planets and moons, asteroid belts and constellations swirled one into the next.
"Find us somewhere out of the way, Subcommander," Dylen said eagerly.
Latres pressed a few more keys. As the images cycled out in space, the computer whirred and chirped, analyzing and identifying the regions of space being shown. Finally, Subcommander Latres grunted, "There."
"Take us in, Helmsman," Dylen ordered.
"Maneuvering thrusters, aye," Helm responded.
Slowly, the Val'Hannorr eased forward. The energy arcs intensified, and the nexus began to grow. In seconds, the Val'Hannorr was touching the event horizon, and then it was through. Behind the ship, the nexus collapsed with a boom that coursed over the hull like a gong, and then there was blackness and silence.
"Hmm," Dylen grumbled. "So that's what purple tastes like."
Lieutenant Enva nodded, "This seems kind of anticlimactic."
Dylen waved it off, "No matter. We have a vermin problem on board to take care of. Tell me, where are we storing the various hull fragments we've picked up?"
"Large-cargo, bay two," Enva replied.
The commander paced across her bridge, "Good." She handed the datapad to the lieutenant, "I want you to gather the crew members on this list there."
All of a sudden, Latres slammed headlong into his console and slid down, collapsing in a heap on the floor.
"Commander to Uhlan Vogor," Dylen sighed, annoyed at being interrupted. "Your patient needs your attention." She stalked over to Latres' console, standing over his twitching form, and then turned back to Enva, "Is it done?"
Enva eyed the commander suspiciously, "They're all on their way, Commander. You should be able to monitor their progress from there."
Dylen tapped the console, watching the little dots that corresponded to crew members' life signs move toward the cargo bay. Minutes passed, but eventually all the dots were in the proper place. Granted, the last few took some...convincing by security teams, but they were all in the bay.
"And now," the commander said with a wide grin. "To fumigate." She mashed a button on the console and the ship lurched slightly.
Toward the rear of the massive battleship, a giant cargo bay door opened. With no force field in place, the atmosphere in the bay immediately blew out, ripping dozens of Romulans into the vacuum of space.
"Put me on ship-wide," Dylen announced coldly. All the lightness and mirth of the last minutes was instantly gone. "Attention, crew. You may have noticed a little more space on the Val'Hannorr. That's because I have just taken the liberty of...releasing those among you who were planted by Admiral Sevek. I want you all to look out the nearest porthole or window. I want you to see them struggling for air and turning blue. I want you all to see the price of betrayal. I am the Val'Hannorr, and as far as you're concerned, I am the Tal'Shiar. I hope we have an understanding. Dylen out."
"Take us back to Narendra V now, Helm," the commander ordered in a softer tone, but no less icy. "We have one last dha'rudh* to deal with: Admiral Sevek.
(*dha'rudh - moron, severe insult)
Words.
Pointless to me until my rebirth. I had died an honorable death, more so than I deserved as an honorless targ named Krotious, barely surviving aboard a broken down bird of prey. I was a scrawny Peta'Q, worthless beyond scrubbing power couplings clean, yet I died in combat, fighting with the soulless monsters known only as the Borg. We were a ship in a small fleet ordered to help the Federation in Gamma Orionis, we were outgunned, we never stood a chance, we were cannon fodder for the larger more glorious vessels in the Fleet. It was a suicide mission, one the Captain gladly took, knowing full well that it was the only way to guarantee his crew an honorable entry through the gates of Sto'Vo'Kor.
It was a short battle for us, the ship was taken out easily as the battle raged, as a maneuver to by the other ships time, the captain ordered emergency transport rather than self destruct. Initiating ramming speed be beamed the entire crew onto the cube to wreak havoc internally. Twenty-seven excuses for warriors making their way through the narrow halls of the walking death. When our disruptors failed we began hacking our way through to the central plexus losing more men and women along the way it was myself and two others who finally made it. The connection to the hive mind was with in our reach, all I had to do was destroy it with a grenade or even my bare hands if need be, and I failed...
As my crew mates fell defending me, I hesitated. I was afraid. I dishonored the family that I had disappointed all of my pathetic life. And with that in my heart I died, feeling the icy cold of the nanotubules as they pierced my skin. The feeling of that walking death spreading through my body was intense, a pain I deserved for my failure. With that, my own body failed me. My legs moved against my will, trillions of voices in my head at once leading me to a chamber... no, a butcher's block was a more accurate term. Limbs and organs being removed, people screaming in agony. My comrades being tortured as they became the thing we were sent to destroy.
I spent days under their evil influence, my body changed beyond recognition. My eye plucked from my skull, my arm removed from below the elbow, half of my face removed and replaced. Numerous enhancements were made increasing my size and strength, including additional machines, the more they put into my body the more was taken from my mind. Over the course of my transformation I lost everything and anything that was me, drowning in a sea of lost souls as everything became black.
And then I woke up.
I became aware again in a bright room with a small female, knowing very little about what had happened to my body. Ten years stolen from me, ten years of my life serving the walking death, like an insect serving a Queen I?d never see. The Federation vessel had found me floating in a destroyed Borg Sphere as, what they called, a Heavy Tactical Drone. They removed all of my damaged systems and repaired my body, returning me to more Klingon than machine once more. As I tried to end my miserable existence, I found new meaning. The Federation vessel had itself some kind of monster, a ghost my machines could not see, a phantom with a strength almost rivaling what I would find was my own.
We fought in glorious combat, he was the faster, yet I was stronger. I found a renewed sense of being. Forget my lost honor, forget the honor of my house, with my new abilities I could be so much more than the cowering whelp I once was. And then as I thrilled in the hunt, as my blood once again flowed Klingon, as I reveled in the chance to eat the heart of this enemy, I tasted nothing but defeat. The mongrel dog managed to outsmart me and blast me into space allowing a cloaked Klingon ship to beam me aboard.
At first I was livid, I was furious, I was alive. I spent my time becoming Krotious, more than a Klingon warrior, I was more than just a Borg drone. I'd even begun reworking the prosthesis on my arm into more of a clawed metal talon than a feeble claw. The fingers fold back into the wrist, completing a circuit allowing me to focus the power source into an energy blast. My shield allowing me to be a beast on the battlefield. When honor is no longer a concern, I found myself liberated of the cares and concerns of the Empire. Little things became so meaningless to me and I reveled in the freedom.
I became oriented to a single goal. Mine. Everything I wanted would be mine, and I would enjoy the depravity I sank to achieve my goals. It didn't take long before I was given my own command, a command I wore like cheap targ fur. At first it was fun, but as I grew tired a new challenge presented itself. Fek'lhri delivered unto me a new ship along with a new freedom from the Klingon Defense Force, all I had to do was conquer it. Conquer it I did, making it my own as well as I prepared to seek my vengeance.
Granted with my power and my new carrier, it was no longer necessary to seek out this pointy eared devil, but to be honest, it was the challenge that I desired. He bested me in my new form, but that was before I knew how to master my abilities. Now that I was master of my being, I would plan for our next encounter. Oh how I began to long for the day I would see that... thing... again. It would not out wit me, it would not out fight me. It would just have the honor of falling to my new found glory. So I planned carefully. I would follow the ship carefully phased almost entirely out of reality, better than cloak, I followed it watching and waiting for my moment to strike. With a ship like the U.S.S. Geist, I didn't have to wait long.
From nowhere an anomaly opened and a Tholian ship assaulted my prey. I kept my distance as the interspacial anomaly might have exposed my vessel. I watched from a distance as the Federation dogs were out numbered and outgunned. I almost debated revealing myself and beaming the creature aboard, but sensor sweeps would have exposed us and I was relatively sure our sensors would not be able to see it, if my own Borg implant was incapable. My crew even began placing bets as the tides turned between the two forces. So I waited as the battle raged on and my prey lost the fight.
I worried that I would be denied my hunt, but out of nowhere they pulled victory from the jaws of the crystal spiders. From here I would watch them and monitor transmissions. Their crew broke off and separated, weary and tired from their fight. I observed and made notes and altered my plans as necessary. I had sent out a few spies to follow those that left, surprised to find my quarry had made it off of the ship without my knowing. It was an opportunity that I would not let pass. I took my personal shuttle to Risa to engage. Risa, a planet of frivolous indulgence and hedonism. How such a creature would fare of a planet like this was beyond me, but I followed curious to find out.
I waited until his two allies had left him alone, going to dance leaving him alone in their room. How could I resist? With a simple knock on the door the challenge was issued. While my ocular implant could not track him, I could hear him approaching the door. My left palm retracted against the wrist as the fingers bent unnaturally transforming it from a prosthetic to a weapon which charged as he reached for the entry button. A moment later I unleashed the blast prematurely thinking that he'd heard the charging. It would seem I was right. He'd shifted from the doorway into the toilet to the side of the entryway.
Not wanting to waste time, I reformed my hand as I kicked in what was left of the door. It would take a little while for the internal power supply to build an adequate charge, so for the time being I would test my strength in hand to hand. A fast as the creature is I was stronger but still, I would need to take care with this wily prey. I turned and caught him by surprise and kicked him square in the chest sending him against the toilet, breaking it. As he stood again I backhanded him into the shower breaking the wall, tiles falling to the floor. The ghost broke free the bar holding the curtain, and he began using it as a weapon against me. He cracked it hard into the faceplate as he tried to push me back.
I obliged, but only far enough to allow me to slam his head through the sink. He began moving on the defensive using the bar to block my strikes, but I struck hard to the center breaking it in half. The thing began striking at me with both halves as if they were swords, trying to hit me in weaker spots, my knees, my neck, my face. I laughed off the strikes as I grabbed him and tossed him through the wall of the shower, into the room.
Following, I kept hitting him as hard as I could trying to keep him off balance but my prey was nimble and quick. I would knock him to the ground only to have the specter roll back to his feet as if it were nothing. I threw him at a wall a few times and he managed to hit it feet first leaping back at me with his full force. At one point he used that very momentum to roll me off my feet kicking me into the ceiling fan. I rose as the Peta'Q continued beating his fists into me with all its might. I laughed again as I made first blood with my talon. A deep cut along the torso. As he reeled back in pain I kicked hard to the fresh wound, knocking him through the glass to the balcony. I pressed forward hitting his face against the railing, cutting open his forehead when suddenly there was a sharp pain in my side.
This monster had lodged a large shard of glass into my side I brought my metal fist down like a club across his face, and as it hit the balcony floor, his foot rose up kicking the shard deeper into my side. I struck down again, this time having him return to his knees and lodging another piece in my thigh. Another hit my abdomen and on into my chest. The clever warrior was trying to bleed me out...
We struggled, hitting each other with a flurry of punches and elbows. I'd even headbutt him for good measure knocking him off balance. I went it with my talon for a finishing blow when to my surprise, even dazed, he ducked my fist and used my momentum to swing me against the bent railing, leaping against the wall and diving right into me sending us both over the railing. We feel from the balcony of the Risan hotel, falling the full six stories to the pool below, with him pummeling me the entire way down. As we landed in the water I was too weak to fight back as hard and to heavy to swim.
The pool was only a foot higher than my head yet there I was unable to breach the surface. He used that agility, that nimble strength to keep me under. I would try to move and he would shift his weight to unbalance me and keep me under. The shard in my leg kept me unable to simply jump high enough to catch a breath. I don't know if he'd planned this or if it had been a simple blind luck, but he'd done it again. He'd managed to beat me some how. I stood there in the pool, his weight slowly drowning me, bleeding out into the water.
I was stronger, better, and some how here I was again unable to breath, slowly dying. Just like our last meeting it took an emergency transport to get me out of there. In my personal shuttle I'd had my ships medic and engineer waiting to beam me up and stabilizing me had I not managed to defeat him. While I was expecting to win, I would have been a fool to guarantee it. And as I lay there having glass removed from gashes in my body and I couldn't help but think of a line from an old human book:
To the last, I grapple with thee; from hell's heart, I stab at thee; for hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee
With these words I had found my white whale, I had found an my end, the death that I must conquer. Killing this pointy eared devil would be my only thing to live for as well as the focus for all my hate. I'd had him bludgeoned, bloody, broken, and yet he beat me. This was the unconquerable challenge that must be met and bested. It would become my obsession, my love, my hatred. This one task would be the driving force, and from the gates of Gre'thor and Fek'lhr himself, I would do what ever it would take to end this ghost, and I would drag his soul screaming into the afterlife to make sure that devil stayed there.
That doesn?t help much, so I?d better start at the beginning, but that means the very beginning. I am suffering from a sort of split personality. I am Captain, no, I am Ensign Serena Dell of the United Federation Salvage Ship Fingerbones.
I, Serena, was born on Stardate 65493 on my home planet, the Trill Colony on Kilina IV. Our neutral colony is located between the Romulan Star Empire and the UFP. Suffice to say I managed to join Starfleet, as well as become one of the few Joined Trill from my Colony.
Like other Joined Trill I am also the Dell symbiote, or I was... will be... In either case I was born Stardate 8329 so by the time I was joined to Serena I had only been connected to 3 previous hosts.
I, as Serena Dell, joined Starfleet, and went to the academy. This can all be read in my file and is mostly unimportant so I won?t go into it much more, other than mentioning that I managed to graduate top of my class as a Science Officer so I almost always know what I?m doing.
So that?s my background, a female Joined Trill; very good at science. Here is where my life gets confusing; one week ago as Ensign Dell and on my first tour of duty under Captain Martha Flak. On a routine salvage mission, to the out-of-theway Gorya system, we stumbled upon what seemed to be a hostile fleet, so we hid in the wreckage that we had come to salvage.
That?s when it happened, the first clue that my life would never be ?normal? again. On board that ancient freighter we found an advanced shuttle and, when we approached it, it opened up and out came a fellow Trill. Her first words were ?Ah, took me long enough.? The Trill?s name was Captain Norma Dell and she was my successor who had traveled back in time from when she lived? 18 generations later than me! She had my memories and knew me better than I knew myself.
She had come back in time to try to stop the resurrection of Lore, something that a group of androids in her time were determined to achieve. If they failed to stop the resurrection the first android war would start 200 years too early. So naturally the Captain chose to attach me as her liaison officer as we went off to complete this mission.
I?m still not sure how but we ended up following the Android ships through time. As they shadowed the USS Enterprise at several points in the past, we repeatedly countered their attempts to alter the timeline.
It was the last time that was the most important, and that was only a day or two ago. We had finally returned to our own time, to stop them from intercepting the USS Vhalia. It was carrying Lore?s remains to the UFP Vault, a planet adapted to store dangerous artifacts. We managed to interfere with them so the Vhalia could land, but we had to go on an away mission to the planet to make sure the remains were secured. I led the away mission, along with several officers and my younger Ensign self.
We fought through the corridors of the station and killed several androids and their slaves as we defended the box that contained their Lord and Master. We protected it as the chrono-locks were put into place and as it was sealed in a solid block of Jih Alloy. The mission started to go wrong at that point as the Android army pulled its might together for a final push.
Push they did. In the first wave the crew of the Vhalia was slain and we had to beam reinforcements from the Fingerbones. The second wave claimed half of our crew and several officers. The third wave was the final push, but as we dropped the sealed block down the main shaft to the vault at the core of the planet, Ensign Dell? no that?s not right... I? was shot in the stomach.
The shock to my system almost killed me as my Dell Symbiote perished in the blast. I expected to die in less than a few hours. We beamed back to the Fingerbones, where the doctor tried to stabilize me, but it was too late. Only a new symbiote could save my life, and the only one within range was a future version of the dead one.
So I should be dead; should have been shot into space in a torpedo casing like so many of my friends were this week. The depressed Ensign Ultear, the Joviel Lieutenant Jerome, so many are dead, and by all rights I should be too.
Norma Dell had other plans for me though; apparently I do important things in the future, and my future hosts do important things too. So yesterday I opened my eyes again and saw Norma dead on a bed next to me, her symbiote missing and now resting in me, made possible by a ?paradox machine? that is also implanted in my body.
I know what happens to me, but feel no different. I am still Serena Dell, but with more hosts than before, hosts that will come. So I am also the Dell Symbiote, one who has lived 18 separate lives since I was originally Serena. I remember the future; I remember what will come... and if the future changes so do my memories. I know what will happen tomorrow, and I know the day I will be promoted to Captain. I know the decisions I made along the way and, when I change those decisions, the paradox machine hums and I remember changing them.
I even know how my first mission will turn out, and how my first admiral is a secret Romulan Spy. I even know I have a lost Twin. Captain Martha Flak is the only one who knows right now, but she will die in a week before she files a report, so no-one else will know until I tell my first officer in three years? time.
I feel alone, really alone for the first time in centuries... in my life. Nobody to talk to but my memories. But I have an advantage, I know what?s going to happen... and I can damn well make sure it works out better this time around.
Computer. Delete Log.
I gave Cherly the news not too long ago. Needless to say, she was devestated.
Found her drunk as hell in the O-Club with her off-duty dress half ripped and half off.
Bandar was no doubt planning to attempt to take advantage of her in the worst way - she recently turned him down, citing terrible personality and recent moves he made towards what he called the "lesser people".
Being in a heavily intoxicated state, she almost agreed.
Said officer is now in the brig for 90 days with bread and water.
Also, I might be asked to attend a inquiry board regarding some...injuries Commander Bandar suffered sometime between his arrival and his removal from the O-club.
I'll have to call up my buddy over at DS9 and see if they can spare a shrink. It's bad enough she's in mourning, it's even worse she's trying to seduce me for "protecting" her or something or other. In short, annoying, troublesome, and I'd rather not have to deal with it.
Also, have heard talk about the newest class of officers from the Academy. I'm supposed to be assigned one of them as a mentor.
Great. Just what I need - a frakking teenager around my officers.
-Addendum : Just found bugs in my room. Traced them back to Cherly. Putting her on medical leave pending psychological checkup.
Counselor A'Mand could tell. "Remember, you are here to learn, I am not here to judge. You will learn why you are here. I am only a catalyst to knowledge. Fear is only in your mind, but fear can hurt you like a needle. It can kill you, but only if you let it overcome who you are. Do not be afraid. You. Are. Safe."
Safe.
The word penetrated her thoughts. Kathryn's stress washed away and she lay back onto the couch. A'Mand kneeled at Kathryn's side and placed her hands onto the facial points necessary for a soft transition Mind Meld.
"My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your ... your fears are my ... start ... beginning ..."
... remember ...
I remember now. I remember how it started. I remember doing what they told me ...
A ship.
A cargo ship ... no transport ship.
Colony. Colonization. Hesperus.
A girl. A teenage girl.
Red hair. Ponytails. Me.
Parents. Mom. Dad.
Warning.
Attack. Fire. Explosion.
Capture.
Darkness.
Chains. Pain. Sadness.
Slave? Death? Fear of ...
Mom?!
Dad?!
Chains. Pain. Sadness.
Orions!
Tribe? Tatoo? Scar? Left Arm.
Sold. Slave.
Angry ...
I feel your pain. What happened next?
... iwasforcedtoworkintheminesiwasforcedtoworkormyparentswoulddie ...
Are your parents alive?
No.
What happened?
Torture. Accident.
I did what they told me.
But they still died.
Not your fault.
I know.
Do you accept that?
No. Yes. Maybe.
Do you blame your captors?
Yes. No. Maybe.
Why did you join Starfleet?
Why? To make the galaxy safe.
From who?
Syndicate. Slavers. Evil.
Admirable. How will you achieve that goal?
Not revenge. Duty.
Not vendetta. Honor.
Interesting. Why are you really here?
Really? To live a new life.
Is that Starfleet's purpose?
Maybe. No. Yes.
What should Starfleet give to you?
Security. Freedom.
Do you not have freedom?
Freedom for future, but not freedom from past.
What can free you from your past?
To forget. To forgive.
How will you forgive?
Direct action.