Alien Heart

Chapter 1 – Prologue

‘Of all the alien places

I explored on my travels

the most alien of all

was my own Vulcan heart.’

Unknown ancient Vulcan poet

 ***

‘There are a lot of things which can happen between

two people, two clans or two tribes,

love is one of them,

maybe the most joyful and terrifying thing of all.’

Teyal Joshma, ancient Bajoran philosopher

***

Chapter 2

William Telfer was sitting in the galley with his best friend Tal Celes both nursing their dinners.

‘So how was your first day with the engineering crew? Torres giving you a hard time?’ he asked.

‘It was okay mostly’ Celes answered, ‘well, she shouted at me because I’ve made a mistake on the diagnostic of the astrometrics sensors. The problem was we had already worked out half of the plan on how to recalibrate them when we saw the mistake…so back to square one…’

‘Uh oh, so you had a first hand experience of her legendary Klingon temper?’ Willy replied.

‘I survived’ Celes made a sarcastic grin ‘the good part of the day was when Seven and Torres had a few differences of opinion on every step of the recalibration plan and the whole work detail was standing around them for over an hour waiting till they would finally come to an agreement and tell us how to proceed’ she chuckled. ‘The combination of these two on one project is everything else than efficient.’

Willy snickered, ‘so much on a project to increase the efficiency of the sensors…’

‘That and a lot of other stuff…’ she sighed slightly tired, ‘but everyone else in engineering is pretty nice – not that I’ve had a chance to get to know everyone well yet, only two guys from engineering are directly involved in the project. Huber and Vorik, but they are both very nice.’

‘I think I know them, they’re both Ensigns, Huber is the guy who played the drums in the concerto last week and Vorik is the Vulcan?’

‘Yeah, Huber is really cool and uncomplicated, just a next door guy, who makes a joke every other minute to cheer up the situation – and Vorik…’ she considered for a few moments ‘dunno how to put it…he’s not like any Vulcan I have worked with’

‘How so?’ Willy asked.

‘He has such a warm voice, it’s hard to explain, he definitely talks and acts like a Vulcan, but when he talks to someone I really have the feeling that he cares and wants to make friends and not just get the work done, you know?’

‘I guess in comparison to the Borg queen of efficiency even a Vulcan seems to be warm and caring’ Willy snickered.

‘Yeah’ Celes said grinning shortly then prodded her food contemplating.

Willy grinned.

‘What?’ she asked after looking up.

‘Someone has a crush!’ he whispered teasingly.

Celes was taken aback for a second, ‘me?!’ she laughed.

‘He has such a lovely warm voice…’ Willy said taunting, ‘your eyes just looked really dreamy’.

‘Probably because I’m imagining how it would be to eat dinner with someone else than an adolescent hypochondriac Ensign for a change…’ she replied.

‘I got you there’ Willy grinned.

She gloated at him, struggling to think up a retort: ‘Don’t forget your shift in astrometrics when you’ll be alone with Seven – having her efficiency breathing down your neck every second!’ she chirped.

‘Oh, don’t remind me…’ he groaned.

 ***

Chapter 3

After a few weeks Celes felt much more competent in tackling the various stations in engineering, but she still had some trouble with the diagnostics station. After she nearly lost her nerves this morning at that particular station Vorik had suggested to meet her at holodeck 3 this evening and to go through another round of simulations. She had been getting better and better after he had started to tutor her regularly a couple of evenings ago.

 

She knew she wouldn’t have been able to pull through it all if he hadn’t be such a wonderful calm and patient person. She’d never thought that she would ever start to befriend a Vulcan, but she really enjoyed his company and has even showed him some of her favorite holodeck programs like the mountain climbing. She was wondering if she could persuade him for the swimming program, though the image of a Vulcan in a bathing suit seemed somewhat off, she mused with a smile.

She met him in front of holodeck 3, but apparently a program was already running.

‘Maybe one of the other holodecks is free’ she said.

‘Negative, they are all occupied’ he replied.

Then Neelix and Huber came round the corner. ‘Good evening, Ensigns!’ Neelix beamed, ‘So you’re also coming to Fair Haven? I haven’t seen you two there. Tom is just doing some minor repairs after a little glitch yesterday evening.’

‘No,’ Celes replied, ‘we wanted to do an engineering simulation, but it can wait…I know everyone loves Fair Haven, but I haven’t find the time to try it yet…’ she looked at Vorik.

‘Seems a logical alternative’ he said in a tone Celes suspected to be slightly humorous, but she was never fully sure with him.

So they entered into what was an ancient earth village which must be near the sea, because the air smelled salty.

‘I’d recommend a walk along the shoreline, Ensigns,’ Neelix said while pointing into a direction away from the village, ‘it’s very beautiful. I’d love to go with you, but I promised the others to meet them at the bar.’ He tapped Celes on the shoulder and then went off with Huber around a street corner.

Celes looked at Vorik and shrugged. He raised a questioning eyebrow. After a pause he said ‘Mr. Neelix suggestions always lead me to interesting experiences about the socio-cultural nature of other species. I’ve never been in a recreational simulation of earth’s past, so it might be fascinating to explore.’

They set off and reached the shore line shortly. Celes felt a fresh breeze around her face and it reminded her of her academy days in San Fransisco where she learned swimming and had started to like the ocean because her Academy friends took her to the beach.

‘Vorik’, she said, ‘have you ever taken a swim in the ocean while you were at Starfleet Academy?’

‘No’, he answered, ‘but I learned swimming at the Academy.’

‘Me too’, she replied, ‘I come from a hot and barren region on Bajor, I’ve never been exposed to larger bodies of water until I came to earth for the Academy.’

He looked at her, ‘as humans say, I had to get used to swimming.’

She laughed, ‘I understand what you mean! I used to find it icky, I mean no ground under your feet and all that water, I nearly failed the swimming and diving test.’

‘I didn’t score very well in that particular test either’, he replied.

‘But in my second year’ she went on, ‘friends used to go to the beach and I started to get used to it, you know it’s a whole different feeling standing on the beach, feeling the waves.’

‘Interesting,’ he replied, ‘I have never tried.’

‘You should someday’ she said and they walked silently for a moment. She tugged her arm into his. He didn’t protest, but after a few moments she started giggling.

‘I fail to see the humor of the situation’ he asked looking questioningly at her.

She laughed, then said, ‘I’m walking arm in arm with you on a romantic beach in the holodeck, it feels like having a date with a Vulcan’. As she looked at him he raised an eyebrow again.

‘I didn’t know that is a humorous occasion’ he replied. It was hard to read his mood, but from his tone she got no sense that he was pissed or embarrassed at her comment, it seemed more like another bit of his very dry humor.

‘Have you ever walked along a beach on the holodeck with a woman, Ensign?’ she asked teasingly.

‘Negative’ he replied, ‘but it grows more fascinating by every minute’.

At this point she stopped and looked at him. She meant to reply with another quick-witted comment, but for some reason she was at a loss for words and they just looked at each other. She suddenly realized that she was drawing nearer and he slowly did too until their lips met in a hesitant kiss. When she realized he was responding she got bolder and put her arms around him kissing him more intensely. He responded in kind and had just put his arms around her when his comm badge sounded…

 ***

Chapter 4

The next evening Celes had dinner with Willy in the galley.

‘You seem somewhat preoccupied’ he said.

‘Hmm?’ she answered while stirring her bowl of soup.

‘Celes,’ he said, ‘what’s the matter with you?’

‘Oh’, she replied slightly startled, ‘sorry, I was in thoughts. What did you ask?’

‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

She drew a breath and replied. ‘I kissed him, but now he avoids me.’

‘What?’ Willy asked, ‘Who?’

‘Vorik’ she replied.

‘What???’ he asked astonished. ‘You kissed Vorik???’

‘Shh’ she whispered, ‘don’t shout it.’ The next table had suddenly gone very silent.

He stared at her in disbelief. She sighed.

‘So, um, how did he react?’ he whispered flabbergasted.

‘The comm badge chimed and he avoided me today’ she replied sounding depressed.

‘I don’t believe it’ he replied, ‘you kissed a Vulcan?!’

‘I know’ she whispered annoyed, ‘don’t ask me what I was thinking.’

He chuckled while shaking his head, ‘I still don’t believe it….and what did he do before the comm badge sounded? I mean how did he respond? Did he jump back or something?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘that’s the weird part…he kissed back’ she whispered.

He stared in disbelief. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes’ she said in a clear tone, ‘I’m sure.’

‘Wow’ he answered still shaking his head, ‘did you talk to him later?’

‘He said it was not logical for him to start an intimate relationship at the moment’ she blurted out angrily.

Willy just continued shaking his head and concluded with a shocked ‘oh my…’.

***

Chapter 5

Celes and Vorik were busy in engineering testing the recalibration on the nebula the ship was just investigating.

Since a couple of glitches have shown up Torres’ tone was becoming more Klingon every minute.

‘Vorik!’ Torres shouted, ‘have you corrected that damn glitch in the forward sensor array?’

Negative’, he replied, ‘but I will so shortly when I have found the cause of the malfunction.’

Celes was concentrated on something on the screen of her station. ‘Look!’ she said excited, ‘that can’t be right!?’

‘I’m busy elsewhere, Ensign’ Vorik replied without even looking up.

‘But I have it!’ she replied and went over to his station. ‘Wait, I’ll show you’ she said and put her hand on his shoulder while accessing his station.

‘Stop it!’ he shouted, ‘you’re disturbing my setup!!!’

She gaped at him in shock.

‘And don’t touch me!’ he hissed.

‘Sorry,’ she said taken aback, ‘calm down, your setup is still there!’

‘Just go away and let me do my job!’ he replied furious.

‘Then do it, see if I care!’ she shouted back and stormed to her station.

Celes was still trying to collect herself when Torres came over to her. ‘You’ve found something?’ she asked politely.

‘Yes,’ Celes replied, ‘look at that data address, that can’t be right.’

‘Ah’, Torres replied, ‘there’s our little glitch, that’s corrected in a minute’ her fingers flew over the screen. Satisfied she looked up to Celes, ‘good work Ensign!’ and patted her on the shoulder. Then Torres walked over to Vorik’s station. They exchanged a couple of words Celes wasn’t able to catch. Then Vorik left. Torres put her hands on her hips, drew a deep breath and then walked over to Celes again.

‘Celes,’ she said in a low voice, ‘I know it’s none of my business, but whatever has happened between you and Vorik…’ she paused tentatively, ‘seems to affect you very strongly, both of you.’ She paused looking very intently at Celes.

‘I’m sorry, Lt.’ Celes stuttered, ‘there was something of…a personal misunderstanding…’

Torres hesitated, after a thoughtful pause she said: ‘Celes, let’s have a break and drink a coffee.’

***

Chapter 6

After Torres made Neelix understand that they needed a private conversation, they both sipped their beverages, Celes looking very nervous.

‘Look,’ Torres began, ‘I don’t mean to pry, but I have the impression the situation between you and Vorik got slightly out of hand.’

‘I’m really sorry, Lt.!’ Celes said almost pleading, ‘I didn’t mean to shout and I was really shocked that Vorik would shout, I’d never thought he was able to react like that, I mean…he’s a Vulcan. I didn’t mean to provoke him, I didn’t know he could be provoked…’ she stuttered.

‘It’s okay, I’m not criticizing you.’ Torres replied. ‘That wasn’t the first time someone shouted in engineering…’ she added.

At that Celes seemed to calm down a bit.

‘Celes, there might be some things about Vulcans…you don’t know.’ Torres said carefully.

Celes returned a very astonished look. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I know you two are friends since the sensor-recalibration project… I don’t know if something…different happened between you both lately’ Torres gave her a questioning look, ‘but if, it looks like…it really hit home’.

Celes looked very apprehensive.

‘Believe me, I know Vorik…’ Torres went on, ‘I don’t think the way he just lost control was because he suddenly dislikes you or had a different opinion.’

Celes felt her face flush slightly. ‘I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about.’

Torres looked at her very intently. ‘I’m saying, whatever Vorik told you about logic or acted around you, I bet he has feelings for you, very strong ones – otherwise he wouldn’t get aggressive like that.’

Celes stared disbelievingly, ‘why do you think that?’

Torres hesitated. ‘Well, first because I’m half-Klingon and know the feeling, second because I know Vulcans can react that way when…they feel attracted to somebody – and my best guess is that this somebody might be you,’ she said carefully, concentrating on not rolling her eyes or otherwise indicating how unnerving it was to connect the dots for this Ensign.

Seeing Celes dumbfounded expression she drew a breath and said: ‘…look…maybe I’m not the best person to explain this to you and I can’t say I really understand how Vulcans work, maybe you should ask the doctor about it.’

‘The doctor? Ask him about what???’ Celes replied somewhat alarmed and seemingly confused.

Torres drew another breath exasperated. ‘Maybe I’ve got the wrong impression and this has got nothing to do with you at all.’ She paused. ‘But if there is something between you and him, you should definitely ask the doctor…and do something about it – before things get out of hand’ she added curtly.

She rose and put her cup back on the counter and they both headed back to engineering.

Celes was too busy stomaching what Torres had said to find the courage to say anything on their way back. Especially the last sentence seemed to repeat itself over and over in her head. Why ask the doctor? And how could things get out of hand?

***

Chapter 7

Vorik was contemplating on his way from engineering whether to meditate or to go straight to sickbay. Something must be wrong with him, he would never normally succumb to make an emotional scene like that. He wished it had never happened, but that thought was as illogical as anything else happening lately. It had happened all so fast. He didn’t realize he was shouting until everybody stared at him. But what was wrong with him? He had a suspicion…but it couldn’t be possible… It must be something else, maybe a virus, he felt like he was running a fever. Ensign Huber had been ill last week with the Kaldavian flu – maybe he had infected him with it.

***

‘What’s the nature of the medical emergency?’ The doctor greeted in his usual fashion as Vorik entered sickbay.

‘Unknown yet, doctor. I’m not well, I have the impression of suffering from a fever, my theory is that I caught the Kaldavian flu.’ he replied.

‘Let’s see’ the doctor scanned him, muttered ‘hmm’ and then fell silent. ‘Please take a seat, Ensign.’

Vorik sat down on the biobed while the doctor fetched another scanner and started to scan his brain.

The doctor laid the scanner beside and seated himself at another biobed in opposite to Vorik. ‘Ensign,’ he said in a very measured calm, ‘it looks like you have the pon farr.’ The doctor looked questioningly at him.

‘That can’t be possible,’ Vorik said sounding slightly alarmed, ‘I had it 2 years, 10 months and 19 days ago.’

‘I know,’ the doctor replied, ‘but you have highly elevated sexual hormone levels and the same chemical imbalance in your brain, no traces of a virus or drugs or other agents. Don’t you feel any arousal?’

Vorik looked taken aback.

‘Let me rephrase the question’ the doctor said, ‘do you feel different than last time you had the pon farr?’

Vorik hesitated, ‘I’m not sure, I don’t focus my thoughts on my emotions, so I’m not sure what I feel, doctor.’

‘Well, I respect the way Vulcans handle emotions,’ he replied carefully, ‘but at this moment, it would be the most efficient way to diagnose your problem if you could tell me what you feel as exactly as possible.

Vorik considered this for a moment. Then he began very slowly, ‘I feel…restless, I wasn’t able to meditate very well for the last three days, I also experienced insomnia and a loss of appetite.’

‘What else do you feel?’ the doctor asked as patiently as possible.

‘I feel driven somehow…drawn to something.’ he answered frowning in concentration.

‘To what do you feel drawn to?’ the doctor asked politely.

Vorik contemplated and then made a slight shocked expression he hid very quickly. ‘I…’, he stuttered, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you – that is private.’

‘It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me the details, but am I right to assume that you feel attracted to a female crew member?’ the doctor asked retaining his clinical neutrality.

Vorik nodded slightly. After a pause he said sharply, ‘Doctor, I don’t want to pursue this conversation any further.’

‘That’s okay, Ensign’, the doctor said assuringly, ‘we don’t need the details of who she is’.

‘Doctor, I’m still not convinced I have the…pon farr’ he said in a low voice, ‘something must have disturbed my hormonal equilibrium, some agent you haven’t discovered yet.’

‘Hmm…’, said the doctor, ‘of course I can’t disprove your speculation if it’s a not yet discovered agent affecting you, but if we look at this in a scientific way, wouldn’t you agree to first rule out any known agents before looking for unknown agents?’

‘That’s fully logical, of course’ Vorik replied, wondering what kind of theory the doctor was pursuing.

‘Ensign, has anything happened between you and that female crew member, which could have influenced your hormonal equilibrium?’ he asked politely.

Vorik stared, then looked away. ‘That…may be possible, doctor, she…approached me.’

‘Ah…’ the doctor replied satisfied with himself. ‘Ensign, your reaction is very natural, especially if you appreciate her advances.’

‘Doctor,’ Vorik replied sharply, ‘I don’t appreciate her advances!’

‘Are you sure?’ the doctor replied. ‘You show quite a strong hormonal reaction, she doesn’t leave you cold as the saying is…’ he chuckled slightly.

‘Doctor, you’re trying to prove your theory with a circular reasoning!’ Vorik replied sharply.

‘Never argue logic with a Vulcans…’ the doctor said unnerved. ‘Then let’s be blunt, Ensign,’ he drew a holographic breath, ‘as long as I don’t find your mysterious hitherto undiscovered pon farr inducing agent, I have the very strong suspicion that the advances of this woman affect you so strongly, because you have already harbored feelings for her.’ he said.

‘I’m sure you did your best to suppress those feelings,’ he gave Vorik what he hoped would be an understanding look, ‘but they must have come closer to the surface once she showed her feelings towards you and this must have made an impact on your hormonal balance.’

‘I’m also sure you live in a far more testing environment than any other Vulcan, being that far from home and having not found a mate during your last pon farr and being among non-Vulcans who might show their feelings and attractions very directly to you,’ he concluded.

As Vorik seemed too shocked to say something the doctor continued: ‘It seems quite natural that your emotional and sexual needs come to the surface once there is an attractive partner available and a very definite chance of satisfying your needs. I suggest you simply go to her, show her how you feel and let nature take its course and solve your problem instead of theorizing about some unknown chemical agent mysteriously affecting only you in a most peculiar way.’

Vorik replied calmly after a pause: ‘Doctor, it’s clear to me, that you can’t help me, so the logical next step would be to leave sickbay and deal with this on my own through meditation.’

‘Wait!’, the doctor shouted as Vorik quit the door. ‘Vulcans!’ he mumbled exasperated while he transfered himself to his mobile emitter. When he looked up again a surprised B’Elanna stood in the doorway.

‘Lt.! Come in! How can I help you today?’ he asked good-naturedly, but in a slightly unnerved undertone.

‘Well,’ B’Elanna replied, ‘I wanted to talk to you about Vorik, but I see he had the sense of reporting to you himself.’

The doctor rolled his eyes. ‘That’s at least one step in the right direction.’

‘Sounds like you didn’t have much success in helping him.’ B’Elanna replied with a sarcastic smile.

‘Doctor-patient-confidentiality, but what can you tell me about him? Any incident in engineering?’

Yeah, you could say that’, she replied folding her arms, ‘a little shouting competition with Ensign Tal’.

The doctor raised both his eyebrows.

‘They’ve been friends since a couple of weeks and made a great team,’ B’Elanna continued, ‘but suddenly they are unable to work in the same room! If you can talk any sense into them, please do!’

She placed one hand on her hips, ‘I have other problems to solve in engineering at the moment than two lovesick junior officers behaving like pubescent p’taks!!!’ she continued while wildly gesticulating with her other hand, ‘I’ve tried to talk with Tal, but she acts like nothing happened. I told her to come to you to inform herself about Vulcans, but I don’t think she even wanted to realize what I was talking about!’

‘Thanks for adding this to my plate, Lt.’ the doctor replied somberly, ‘now I’m also the ship’s partnership counselor.’

You give social lessons for Seven, can’t you teach Vorik how to deal with his hormones?’ B’Elanna asked unimpressed.

‘I’d never thought, I’d say that,’ he replied dryly, ‘but Seven is an easy student, at least compared to a Vulcan in hormonal distress. Can’t you simply shut them alone into the same room in engineering and wait till they have…resolved their issues?’

She gave a short indignant chuckle. ‘Do I look like a match maker? Good luck with your patient, doctor!’ And she left sickbay.

***

Chapter 8

Vorik rose from his meditation at the sound of klaxons. After spending the last 3 hours breaking down the emotional complex he was sure to be in a logical state of mind and able to help to solve whatever problem has caused the red alert.

When he entered engineering B’Elanna looked at him and after a silent exchange of glances gave him a set of commands.

They were caught in a gravitational addy of the nebula. While Vorik was working on transferring power to propulsion and bringing the output to a maximum he noticed Celes standing next to him frantically pushing buttons on the sensor-relay-station.

‘Alright’ yelled B’Elanna, ‘we have maximum power…Tal, do you have the frequency?’

‘Just a second!’ Celes called nervously, ‘it’s changing!’ she yelled in distress.

‘Feed your data to Vorik’s station!’ B’Elanna shouted. ‘Vorik, put in the formula for both frequencies to cancel each other out and set the station to automatic recalibration!’

‘Understood!’ Vorik answered quickly putting in the appropriate mathematic formula – ‘ready!’

‘Let’s hope this works’ B’Elanna said.

The ship vibrated for 5.8 seconds and broke free with a ruckus hurtling Celes towards him. He caught her with one arm while still holding onto his station. She hold onto him until the ship became still. Then she pulled away and smiled shyly.

‘Good work, everyone!’ B’Elanna said exhausted. Some people cheered, others started chatting sounding relieved.

Vorik heard the blood rushing in his ears and felt like in some kind of stupor. He couldn’t move and just stared at her while still keeping one hand on her arm. She gave him a questioning look at first and then put her hand on his other arm. They stared at each other in what seemed an eternity. Suddenly he realized what was happening and took several steps back. ‘Sorry, I have to leave, I’m not well’ and rushed out of engineering.

Celes stood there at a loss staring at the direction he had left. Then Torres who seemed to have watched the whole episode came over and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Good work, Ensign’ she paused, ‘and please have a talk with the doctor about Vulcans’ she whispered. Celes frowned, drew a breath and said ‘I’ll be back shortly!’ and left engineering.

She still didn’t understand what Torres was getting at, but any excuse was good to have a talk with Vorik, this was making her crazy and she needed to settle things.

 ***

She pressed the chime on Vorik’s quarters. No reply. She pressed it again, then entered. The place looked like a conduit has exploded recently. The glass table was shattered on the ground. Various things were lying around like someone had thrown them through the room. Vorik was sitting on the floor in a corner, not looking at her.

‘Vorik, what happened?’ she asked concerned.

‘Please go’ he said in a low tone like he was in pain.

She walked through the room and sat opposite him on the floor looking at him.

He looked at the ground. ‘Please go.’

‘What’s wrong? Do you need help?’ she asked.

‘Go!’ he shouted, ‘please’ he added in a whisper, ‘I can’t stand it’.

She thought for a moment, then tapped her comm badge: ‘Celes to sickbay’

‘Sickbay here’ came the answer in the voice of the EMH.

‘Please come to Vorik’s quarters, something’s wrong with him’ she answered.

‘I’m on my way, please do not approach him, doctor out.’

He looked at her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you.’

‘It’s okay’ she said, ‘you’re ill, the doctor is on his way. You must have some sort of fever.’ She started crawling toward him.

He raised a hand, ‘don’t come closer!’ He panted very agitated.

‘Okay, I’m staying right here.’

After a few moments the door chimed and the doctor came in. He scanned Vorik with a tricorder.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Celes asked.

‘Sorry, that’s doctor-patient-confidentiality’ the doctor replied. ‘Vorik, I’m giving you a sedative for the moment’ the hypo spray hissed as he put it on Vorik’s neck ‘and you have to wear that cortical monitor’ he put a round device below Vorik’s left ear.

‘Thank you, doctor’ Vorik replied politely.

The doctor stood up and took her by the arm ‘he needs some rest now, you can come back later’ and ushered her through the door.

Is it serious or just some kind of flu?’ she asked. ‘I really can’t tell you, Ensign,’ the doctor answered, but maybe you should talk to him later.

‘Alright’ she answered, ‘thank you’.

***

Chapter 9

While doing some repair work in engineering she thought a lot about what had happened the last couples of days. Maybe she should have respected his Vulcan distance more, she might have added stress to somebody who was already breeding out some nasty germ or something. It might be good to apologize and settle this awkwardness which had resulted of her really inconsiderate kiss on the holodeck.

‘Celes,’ Torres said after a couple of hours, ‘you’ve done enough for today, ‘you can go a bit earlier.’

‘Thanks’ she said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’ and she headed out.

 ***

She took a deep breath while pressing the door chime of Vorik’s quarters. ‘Come in’ he said and she stepped in.

He had cleaned up some of the rubble and was sitting in a chair in a meditative position looking up at her.

‘Hi, you look much better’ she said a bit awkwardly and sat herself in the opposite chair.

He looked questioningly at her.

‘I won’t disturb you for long,’ she continued feeling very silly, ‘I just wanted to apologize about my behavior lately. I didn’t think about what I was doing. I realize I put you in a strange position by what happened on the holodeck, I didn’t mean to overstep your boundaries, I know Vulcans are different than Bajorans or humans or other humanoids, that was really stupid of me’ she concluded nervously and was relieved to have said it.

‘I’m sorry, if I’ve raised your hopes by not being clear enough about the parameters of our relationship’ he replied calmly, ‘I didn’t realize…you were attracted to me and I don’t think I responded in the most efficient way to make those parameters clear to you.’

‘It’s okay’ she said, ‘I guess I caught you off guard’ she smiled sheepishly. ‘I hope we can still be friends.’

He nodded slightly.

She seemed relieved and got up. ‘Then I hope you’ll recover speedily. If you need anything, you can always call me.’ She walked to the door, glad to finally put this awkward matter behind her.

‘Celes, wait!’, he said.

She stopped and looked at him.

‘There’s something I need to tell you’, he said hesitantly.

‘Yes?’ she said wondering what he was coming up with now, he walked over to her. As he stood right in front of her she looked questioningly at him. He seemed at a loss for words. There was a silent awkward moment, then he settled one hand on her shoulder and reached with the other to one side of her face, placing his fingertips on her skin. She knew from her xenobiology classes that this was how Vulcans initiated a telepathic connection, a ‘mind meld’.

But when she expected to find out what a ‘mind meld’ feels like he suddenly moved both of his hands below her chin and a heat flooded her, so intense that she struggled for breath while she quickly grabbed him with both her hands. She felt like she was plunged into a warm sea, drowning, floating and connected to him, chest to chest like Siamese twins and then more and more parts of her followed. She felt her heart opening like a flower to his warmth revealing her feelings for him to see. She also felt his fear, his insecurity and questions about her, about letting his control down, about being exposed to emotions and his worries what others would say about his embarrassing failure to behave like a Vulcan and control his feelings…

When they started kissing hungrily, she felt how he felt her kiss and knew he also felt what she felt, it was unlike any kiss she had ever had…

 ***

Chapter 10

When she woke up she was lying in his arms and realized she was in his bed in his quarters and remembered yesterday’s events. He was still soundly asleep and she watched his beautiful clear lined face, his dark hair and one of his elegant looking Vulcan ears. She smiled, he looked a bit like a chika from a Bajoran fairy tale her mother has read to her as a child out of an old book with colored pictures.

Then he yawned and stretched and opened his eyes. He startled slightly when he saw her. ‘Good morning’ she said good-naturedly.

‘Good morning’ he answered, she felt a blush rising to his head. She remembered the odd ‘mind meld’ that had happened yesterday and figured she must still be somewhat telepathically connected to him, which was quite weird for someone unfamiliar with telepathy.

She quickly rose to spare him the awkwardness. It was painful for her that he seemed to be embarrassed at being in bed with her, but he might just need a few moments to process the chain of events.

Under the shower she wondered how Vulcans handled situations like this. She had always assumed that Vulcans were ‘above’ sexuality, but now she didn’t know what to think anymore. She realized that she might have been a bit naive, after all as a gendered humanoid species they had to reproduce in roughly the same manner as everyone else and he didn’t behave much different yesterday night than her two ex-boyfriends, Talkar and Joicin, had on similar occasions – if you don’t count that (really mind-blowing) telepathic stuff. But then none of her former boyfriends had been uptight types embarrassed about their own feelings…this was going to get messy…

She sighed and stepped out of the shower. Vorik had put on a sleeping gown and was busy restoring everything to order. When she – still stark naked – started to pick together her clothing piece by piece Vorik averted his eyes and rushed into the bathroom with a fresh uniform in has hands.

‘You’ve already seen me naked, remember?!’ she yelled in the direction of the closed door, ‘I don’t mind!’. And she wondered if she should start to regret what happened right now. She sighed and then quickly put her clothes on and yelled through the closed door, ‘I’m late for my shift, see you later.’ She didn’t wait for any response, but hurried to engineering trying to put him out of her mind, but she had a bad feeling about this. Part of her said that he probably is a bit overwhelmed with the events and needed some time to process his experiences, but another part wondered if he would ever look again at what had happened and she wasn’t sure that he might not just act as if nothing had happened or just make another comment about logic.

***

Chapter 11

He avoided her the whole day – or was she avoiding him?

She poured her heart out to Willy while drinking replicated Whiskey (for a week’s replicator ration) and started to cry while he tried to make heads and tails of her story. He knew of nobody who had ever had something with a Vulcan, he seemed to be shocked and fascinated by it.

When she awoke with a hangover the next morning she didn’t fully remember how many details she had told him and was partly glad about that.

But this day the project ended and she changed to work in astrometrics again. Working for Seven – ‘The Borg Queen of Efficiency’, what was how her staff called her secretly, was at least a good distraction and she didn’t encounter Vorik daily like in engineering, so no awkward moments and politely dancing around each other on tiptoes.

When Neelix proposed that he’ll prepare a party for the Bajoran Gratitude festival, her mood improved slightly.

It was weird though, she still had the feeling that this strange telepathic connection hasn’t been severed completely. When she had to shortly go to engineering to discuss some data with Torres she felt like she could sense his presence a few stations next to her, but maybe she was just imagining things when she saw him standing there…

When she walked by sickbay after her shift she paused – and then entered.

‘Ah, Ensign, what’s the nature of the medical emergency?’ the doctor chimed in a good mood.

‘No emergency, doctor, I…’ she paused ‘was just wondering if you could scan my brain.’

‘Do you experience any dizziness or pain, Ensign?’

‘No, actually,’ she mumbled, ‘I just wanted to make sure everything is okay.’

The doctor raised his eyebrows.

‘Is there any reason for concern?’ he asked while scanning her with a tricorder. ‘Hmm…’ he continued, ‘there are some unusual activities in your limbic system and some cortical regions…please lie down, I’ll conduct a full scan.’

The head scanning unit closed over her as she was lying on the medical bed and the doctor continued with more ‘hmms’.

‘Did you have any telepathic contact with a member of a telepathic species in the last couple of hours?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Vulcan’ she said flat out.

‘I see.’ the doctor answered.

‘When did the contact occur exactly?’ he asked.

‘Four days ago’ she answered.

‘Four days ago?’ the doctor replied alarmed.

‘Yes, what’s wrong, doctor?’ she asked.

‘Ensign’ the doctor replied, ‘in most cases there’s a similar kind of brain activity in a non-telepathic species right after a Vulcan mind meld, but it usually disappears during maximal two or three hours afterwards. Your readings would be unusually high for right after a mind meld, but you’re telling me the telepathic contact occurred four days ago.’

She looked puzzled.

‘Who did the mind meld and what did you try to accomplish?’ he asked – then something seemed to dawn to him, ‘has it been Vorik?’

She nodded.

‘That explains it,’ he replied.

‘Why, is something wrong with Vorik?’ she asked.

‘No, but my guess is that he didn’t do the kind of mind meld I have in my medical data base.’ the doctor said in a tone that indicated that Celes made a very interesting patient today.

She looked at him puzzled.

‘I didn’t know there are different types of mind melds. Why don’t you have them all on file?’ she asked.

‘Because Vulcans are very private about some of their practices.’ he answered looking her directly in the eye, ‘can you please describe the mind meld for me, Ensign?’

‘He first put the fingertips of his right hand on the left side of my face, but then he quickly changed position and had both of his hands under my chin’ she answered, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible.

‘Hmm…’ he said, ‘Ensign, there isn’t much I can do about it for now, but I’d like you to wear a cortical monitor for 24 hours, then we’ll see how this develops. If you experience any dizziness or headache I can give you something.’ He placed a cortical monitor below her left ear.

‘Um, doctor’ she said, ‘I don’t have any pain or dizziness, but I have the feeling that this mind meld is still somewhat there, that there’s still some telepathic connection between Vorik and me.’

‘How does that feeling manifests itself, Ensign?’ he asked.

‘It’s hard to explain, but when I’m in his vicinity I feel his presence sort of and I feel like I could read his mind.’ she said.

‘That’s interesting, how does the feeling to read his mind express itself?’ he asked.

Well, I feel feelings which aren’t mine, but his’ she tries to explain, ‘but then I’m not sure if I really did or just imagined it.’

‘That would explain these readings,’ the doctor concluded, ‘there is probably still a telepathic connection between you. Must have been a hell of a mind meld’ he added smirking.

But Celes didn’t seem to find that funny, ‘is there any way to break that connection?’

He considered her seriously ‘not that I know of, Ensign, but we should observe this for a while before looking for any medical options of intervention’. He paused, ‘Ensign, did this happen against your will?’ he asked concerned.

‘No,’ she answered shaking her head, ‘but things haven’t worked out…and I didn’t know that there would be this kind of lasting effect…’

He sighed, ‘which is why you should get permission from your medical officer before assuming intimate relations with a member of another species’ he replied stressing every word.

She pursed her lips.

‘Ensign’ he said exasperated, ‘I’m no counselor, but have you tried to talk to Vorik about this?’

She sighed. ‘How do you talk to a Vulcan about your feelings?’

‘Well,’ he answered, ‘you may have a point. As I said, I’m no counselor. – And quite glad about that I might add…’

‘Thank you, doctor’ she said before he could babble on further, ‘I’ll see you again tomorrow.

***

Chapter 12

After another couple of days her brain readings haven’t gone any more towards normal and she felt she couldn’t get fully over him until this telepathic connection could get broken. She wasn’t sure though that the connection was really that strong and not just her imagination, maybe she just couldn’t get over him or still had hopes that somehow they could resolve their differences.

She decided to approach Vorik, look how he reacts, maybe talk to him and settle things, they are both adults after all and shouldn’t behave like sulking teenagers.

 ***

When she entered the galley and saw Vorik sitting alone by the window nursing some soup or stew with a spoon. She picked up Neelix’ creation of the day – a bowl of unidentifiable stew – and sat down on Vorik’s table.

‘Hi!’

‘Hello Celes,’ he replied with his usual Vulcan calm, but she thought to hear a hint of warmth in it, she smiled slightly at him. He didn’t smile back, but Celes was now sure she felt some warmth radiating from him to her. Maybe it was this damn telepathic connection.

‘Is it edible?’ she asked looking at his stew.

‘I think it is not poisonous and nutritional sufficient’ he answered with his dry humor, ‘but for the culinary value I cannot guarantee’.

‘Well, nothing better than a good tongue-twisting meal from Neelix to train you for delta quadrant survival’, she answered.

‘Maybe he will prepare some traditional Bajoran meals next week for the Gratitude festival’ Vorik said in a conversational tone.

‘Oh great, I can’t wait to taste Neelix’ version of hasperath,’ she chuckled nervously, ‘at least the heat will be authentic albeit achieved with Talaxian spices and who knows what else.’

Then there was a moment of silence as she considered him.

‘Will you be there?’ she asked and paused. ‘I can help you with writing your renewal scroll’ she quickly added in a tone that was supposed to sound joking.

‘So you can fulfill your Bajoran need to pay me back for helping you with your sensor diagnostics’ he said in his usual dry Vulcan humor-tone, not betraying any emotion regarding the prospect of attending the festival together or speaking again more than three words to each other.

‘Someone has to help you, otherwise the prophets would get bored by all the logic…where is the sense in writing a renewal scroll if you can logically anticipate different courses of the future and simply make the logical choice instead of brooding on your next steps and still wondering what the heck will happen like us emotionally handicapped species asking the prophets for guidance…?’ she said trying to sound quick-witted.

‘But let me point out that this is a very acute observation of you. Since the rules of logic never change, Vulcans don’t have the need for renewal scrolls’, he said in a dry humorous slightly condescending tone.

‘You don’t know what you’re missing’ she replied in a tone of importance. ‘We used to hike up to mount Tala, the whole village gathered there and we burned the scrolls in a big fire while watching the sunset. Most Bajorans think that the Uzuri hill region is so harsh and barren, but I love the vastness of it…before I joined Starfleet I used to go on long hikes if I needed to think about something’. She felt good to have a conversation with him again, but maybe she shouldn’t go too deeply into nostalgia and other emotional territories right now.

‘I also used to go on long hikes through the desert. I volunteered for the center of nature preservation and counted the signs of selath population in a designated area’ he replied and Celes thought she caught a glimpse of a Vulcan desert landscape in her imagination, or was it a telepathic image from his mind?

‘Vorik’ she said attentive ‘I think I just got an image from you, can you think of that again?’ He looked at her, slightly startled and then started describing the landscape verbally, but she wanted to see that beautiful image in his mind again and feel what it was like for him to be there.

‘In most regions of Vulcan the sand is yellow,’ he explained, ‘but where I was raised the sand is red like clay from the amount of…’

She tried to concentrate on what he was seeing in his mind instead of the descriptions and explanations, she automatically gripped his hand to get a better connection. As result he suddenly stopped talking and she felt something like embarrassment coming from him while they both quickly withdrew their hands and he stole a quick glance around him to see if anybody had seen them holding hands.

‘I’m sorry’ she said nervously ‘I didn’t mean to embarrass you…this telepathic connection it is so strange, I’ve never felt anything like it’ she blurted out.

He didn’t respond. She felt more embarrassment coming from him (and from herself), not to mention a definite reluctance to talk about the subject she just started – their relationship and what had happened that night. He took a gulp from his water glass. A few minutes before he seems to be happy to see her – although he wouldn’t admit that – and now he seems to wish he didn’t even know her.

She felt torn between anger about being emotionally ignored and reluctance to show him how much this was hurting her. ‘Vorik’ she whispered, trying to stay calm, ‘if you’re afraid of doing, thinking or feeling anything un-Vulcan because of me…you can act Mr. Iceberg in front of everyone else, but you don’t have to pretend with me! I can read your freaking mind because of what happened five days ago and you can probably read mine…’ She drew a breath. ‘We’re far from the alpha quadrant, we don’t know if we’ll ever see our homes again and non of our folks at home need to know what happened between us if you can’t bear the shame, but please drop this silly act in front of me!’

He was stunned and seemed at a loss for words.

‘I’m sorry, I need to go’ she hastily left the room before she would make a scene in front of half the crew they would both regret. She tried to calm down while she stomped to the turbo lift. When she entered the lift she heard quick steps behind her. Vorik came in and the doors closed.

‘Computer, astrometrics and then engineering’, he said in a calm voice Celes found difficult to bear, but after a second he said ‘halt turbo lift…Celes, I’m sorry I upset you…talking about…emotions…isn’t easy for me.’ Every word seemed painful to spit out. ‘But that doesn’t mean…that I don’t have any’ he added in a low whisper.

She couldn’t resist the urge to hug him and hold him tightly, feeling his warmth and fighting against tears. He slowly put his arms around her and they seemed locked together for a moment and she felt a hint of that warm sea again.

‘I should have known, the ears are a dead give-away’ she tried to say in a joking voice, but it came out in hoarse sobs. ‘And I have to learn how to control my Bajoran temper’.

They unlocked their arms, she felt like she was shaking.

‘Computer, resume!’ he said. The turbo lift made its usual working sound and then came to a halt.

See you later then!’ – she quickly kissed him on his right cheek as she left.

‘And telepathy isn’t ‘mind reading’, that’s an undifferentiated vernacular expression meshing together various different processes’ he said in a low voice.

‘What you say’, she replied and headed towards astrometrics still feeling like she was shaking, but she couldn’t stop smiling the whole rest of the day.

***

Chapter 13 – Epilog

Vorik was fixing a problem on a simple chain of lights Neelix wanted to put up for the Gratitude festival.

‘Neelix’, Vorik asked while Neelix was decorating, ‘you led a very different life before you came to Voyager?’

‘Yes, Ensign’ Neelix answered and looked at him, ‘after the war I thought I had lost everything except for bare survival, then I met Kes and shortly after that Voyager, which became my new home and my new family.’

‘So when you were accepted by the Captain as guide you anticipated a change of your way of life’, Vorik concluded, but there was a slight question in his voice.

‘Well,’ Neelix paused, ‘I knew at that point I’ve hit a new road, but it took me quite a while to realize my life had really changed and that I have changed too.’

‘It must have been quite a change to live with strangers unfamiliar with your home culture. How did you re-define the parameters of your behavioral patterns to integrate yourself into an alien crew?’

Neelix chuckled a bit nervous and thought for a moment. ‘I didn’t…re-define parameters. I just took what came up day by day.’ Vorik raised both his eyebrows. He fumbled on the chain of lights and it suddenly started to glow in multiple colors.

‘That’s it!’ Neelix said happy.

***

Vorik pressed Celes’ door chime and waited. The door opened and she stood there in a colorful skirt, ‘Hi!’ she said. ‘Hello Celes’ he answered and offered her his arm. She took it and said in a teasing tone, ‘so… is hand-holding in public allowed too?’

‘It would be illogical to put you into emotional turmoil compromising your efficiency just for refraining from a simple body contact’ he answered neutrally.

‘Oh,’ she replied with a smile and an odd sparkle in her eyes, ‘so I can kiss you in public too?’

‘Negative’, he said sternly, ‘that would be a breach of Starfleet protocol.’ But you can kiss me later, he added telepathically.

She chuckled and gave him a slight elbow check, ‘that I will.’

– The End –

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Captain’s Prerogative

author’s note: This novel takes place after the TNG movie “Generations” with the exception of the following prologue introducing a new character, which takes place during Captain Kirk’s time.

Prologue

Somewhere deep inside the need stirred again, rousing him to awareness, compelling him to try once more.  The force of his mind dove into the goo of raw genetic materials gathered from throughout the universe, sifting, sorting, searching.  With utmost care he chose.  With endless patience he examined, separated and joined the genetic codes into new combinations.  He did not measure the passage of time nor take any note of it.  He did not tire.  The fire of creation and need burned in him.  At last, he gazed upon the finished DNA, 99.9% unchanged from its original donor. Oh, but what a difference that .1% could make, if it survived. But he had no fear it would not. He knew how to nurture it, to test it, to educate it, to see it to maturity. His creation would grow and thrive, and when ripe, he would pluck it.

###

Earthdate: 2269

Stardate: 6139.5

The four man landing party that had just transported to the planet’s surface surveyed their surroundings — a lush tropical forest.  Huge leaved vines entwined sinuously up red-barked tree trunks broader around than the four could have reached joined hand-to-hand. Platter sized winged insects flashed rainbows of color as they flitted in and out of the shadows or landed on blood-red flowers speared in their centers with stamens of bright blue. They might have thought it paradise if observed in a painting. In real life, they felt dwarfed in an oversized world — too large, too bright, and far too hot and humid for human comfort.

At least they needn’t worry about any large carnivorous wildlife  – only plants, insects, reptiles and small rodent-like mammals indicative of a Class-M planet in the early stages of its evolutionary processes. They were here on a routine botany mission. They pushed through the forest taking samples as they went.

Before long, hidden in the dense foliage of the trees, a pair of green eyes followed them.  The slender figure leaped silently from branch to branch outdistancing them at times then falling back behind, occasionally even dropping to the ground nearby to peer at them through the undergrowth.

Lt. Hernandez, the tall big-boned man at the rear caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye but when he turned to look, he saw nothing.  Probably one of those flying insect things, he thought.  Ahead, his dark-haired superior with the slight greenish cast to his skin paused, looked closely at his tricorder then stared off again into the forest.

Captain Kirk noticed the hesitation of his Vulcan officer.

“Something wrong, Spock?”

“I believe we are being watched,” Mr. Spock announced. He examined the tricorder’s readings closely, then aimed it ahead and upward.  “The creature is sizable, approximately 1.75 meters in length, and, at the moment, located 21.3 meters above us.”

The men looked up but could see only the dense green canopy daggered with sunlight.  Branches and leaves swayed and shimmered above them.

“One of those large yellow reptiles?” the Captain asked.

“Negative. It appears to be warm blooded. Additionally, the known reptiles are not tree-climbers.”

“Let’s move closer. We’ll see what it does.”

The Captain led them forward while Spock targeted the creature’s location with his tricorder. A crashing noise followed by a spray of mud behind them startled the men into spinning around. Suddenly, Spock’s tricorder was ripped from his arms.  He yelled and grabbed at the strap as it flipped up out of reach.  Lt. Hernandez in charge of Security jumped in front of Spock, his phaser drawn.  The others pulled their phasers out also but all they could see was the thick growth. They stood in a tense circle scanning for movement. The forest seemed undisturbed.

Ensign Baker, the assigned botanist of the party, pointed to the edge of the muddy puddle they had just passed where a basketball sized orange-colored nut now floated. “Looks like that’s what fell,” he said.

“An intentional distraction, Spock?” Kirk asked.

“If so it would indicate at least a rudimentary intelligence,” Spock concluded.

“And the tricorder?”

“Perhaps whatever is following us does not wish to be tracked,” Spock’s comment was accompanied by one raised eyebrow. Like his companions, he continued to stare upwards searching the trees.  He took a step backwards and caught his heel on a gnarled root.  Off balance, he wind-milled his arms before splashing tail first into the puddle, landing on his back with his legs splayed like an upended turtle. Baker started toward him, when from high above a light mirthful trill froze them in place. Spock scrambled to his feet.

“That sounded like laughter!” Captain Kirk exclaimed. He flipped open his communicator and contacted Mr. Scott, the ship’s engineer.  “Scotty, scan for all warm blooded humanoid-sized life forms within 1 kilometer of our position.” The results came back within seconds – no longer just four, now five detected.

“So why didn’t it show up before?”

“I can’t explain it, Captain.  But I have a lock on the life form now,” Mr. Scott replied, “Shall I transport it to a holding cell?”

“No, not yet. I don’t want to traumatize it if we don’t have to.”

“Captain,” Spock interjected. “As First Officer, I must respectfully request that you return to the ship until this creature is restrained.”

Kirk smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Spock. Request acknowledged and ignored.”

Spock merely raised his eyebrow again in protest.

“Let’s set up camp in that clearing back there. Perhaps, curiosity will get the better of it.”

As they worked their way back to the clearing, every flicker of motion or rustle of leaves seemed evidence that their companion was still with them. Their imaginations worked overtime but they saw nothing. Baker called up to the ship for supplies. They each watched the forest around them, looking for some sign that they were not alone.

Plant samples and equipment appeared and disappeared in brief flashes of light accompanied by the high-pitched whine of the ship’s transporter.  They used the newly materializing equipment to transform the empty clearing into an encampment, erecting a shelter with beds and chairs upon which they could recline. Spock’s newly replaced tricorder told them the creature remained hidden high in the dense foliage of the trees undoubtedly watching them. Kirk hoped that as it continued to watch, it would find them less and less threatening, and more and more appealing. He imagined it ached to get closer, to look at their skin and faces. To see how they smelled, to see how they felt. But there was risk. They were unknown.

As the hours passed, the last of the natural light faded to darkness.  No moons were visible in this planet’s sky tonight, just stars peeking through the trees.  The men listened to the odd screeches, clicks and hoots of the indigenous life, wondering if any belonged to the creature following them.  Cell lanterns held the darkness at bay making a small circle of light around them.

Captain Kirk assigned first watch to Lt. Hernandez.  The other three bedded down.  Hernandez paced for awhile then stood beside a folding seat which he knew would groan audibly at the strain of supporting his formidable size.

“They ought to make these things bigger,” he grumbled to himself, and remained standing.

 

He concentrated on trying to see past the light into the dark shadows beyond.  Every crackle and rustle in the undergrowth made him start.  They had no evidence that this creature was dangerous, but the way it had followed them so invisibly through the trees and deftly ripped off Mr. Spock’s tricorder definitely made him nervous.  He envisioned some long armed apelike creature, despite that intriguingly human-like laugh.

A slightly darker shadow wavered at the edge of the light catching his attention.  Armed with a phaser in one hand and a handlight in the other, he cautiously approached.  He crouched for a long while at the circle’s edge listening quietly, sweeping the area with the light and peering into the trees. Nothing there – just his imagination again. Finally, he sighed and turned away. Suddenly something simultaneously grabbed his wrist, clamped over his mouth and jerked him backwards, feet flying.  He struggled desperately to yell a warning but a sharp pain in the back of his neck stopped all resistance.

Kirk felt something silky brush across his cheek making him stir. A lovely fragrance filled his nostrils and he inhaled deeply.  His eyes flickered open.  Someone was leaning over him just inches from his face.  He instinctively reached out but grabbed only air.  The intruder escaped out the door giving him just the briefest glimpse of a female form with long flying hair silhouetted against the camp lights outside.  He was immediately on his feet racing out the door, but there was no sign of her.  Hernandez sat slumped in his chair, obviously asleep.

“Damn it!” Kirk swore softly.  Spock and Baker poked their heads out.  He went to Hernandez and shook him roughly, “Wake up!”  Hernandez blinked in hazy confusion rubbing a sore spot on the back of his neck.  “I’m sorry, Sir.  I… I don’t know what happened.”  Kirk glared at him as the other men gathered round.

“She was here!” he told them.

“She, Captain?” Spock inquired.

“Yes, she, a human female.”  He stared into the forest in frustration.  “I think I’ll go for a walk.”

“Sir?” Hernandez looked alarmed and jumped to his feet towering over his captain by several inches.

Kirk grabbed the security officer’s handlight and headed to edge of the clearing. “Stay here!” he ordered and disappeared into the trees.  The remaining three could see glimpses of his light for a few moments then nothing but the dark.  Spock flipped open his communicator.

“Captain, are you all right?”

“Yes, Spock,” Kirk responded. “I haven’t encountered her yet.  She’s obviously skittish.  Even these communicators may scare her. Maintain silence. Kirk out.”

He found a semi-comfortable tree trunk to lean against, and waited.  What had seemed like quiet slowly took on a living quality.  Sounds of buzzing insects, and distant animal calls he hadn’t noticed before grew to fill the hot night. Leaves rustled above him in the breeze. Or was it a breeze? He felt no stir of air on his face. Was she here? He stared into the pitch black forest, seeing nothing.  He might as well have been blind. Someone was here. He could feel it. He wondered how she could navigate these woods in such blackness.  He fought the urge to switch on his handlight.  As the seconds ticked by, his heart pounded ever more loudly in his ears.  He could bear the waiting no longer. Very softly he said, “Hello?”  No answer but the feeling of another presence remained strong.  He waited and made no further sound.  Then he felt a slight tug on the light in his hand.  It took all his discipline to remain motionless and merely tighten his grip.  The tugging stopped.  He felt a touch on his hand, fingers moving across his own, as if counting them one by one.  The hand slipped upward fingering the fabric of his sleeve, moved slowly up his arm then across his chest and stomach.  The hand found the bottom of his shirt and slipped underneath against his bare skin, making him catch his breath.

His pulse raced but still he held himself in check, silent and unmoving. Even this close, he could see only a featureless darkness before him. He began to panic just a little.  He had believed she was human, but what if he were wrong?  Just as he was considering a hasty retreat, that same sweet fragrance enveloped him and instead of scrambling away, he found himself reaching out.  His hand found her face, smooth and soft. His thumb found her mouth. Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her. He dropped his handlight seeking to embrace her when his communicator at his waist beeped loudly.  The noise startled them both and she leaped away into the night.

“Wait!” he yelled frantically, but his arms found only open air.  He swept the ground before him until his hand landed on his light.  He flicked it on.  Only the forest jumped into focus.  He grabbed the beeping communicator.

“I told you not to call me!” he snapped.

“Apologies, Captain,” responded Mr. Spock evenly, “We were concerned. I take it you are unharmed.”

“Yes, I’m fine.  She was here, but the communicator frightened her away again.”  The angry disappointment was clear in his voice.  Spock wouldn’t be calling again for some time, he was certain. He sat back down in the dark hoping she would return.  After nearly an hour passed he gave up and made his way back to the others.

At first light, Kirk requested that his chief medical officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy join the landing party.  When McCoy materialized, he looked mildly annoyed.

“I’m not a fan of camping,” he said.  Kirk smiled patiently at his old friend.

“I’m hoping we won’t be here much longer, Bones.  When I encountered our mysterious female last night, she seemed human enough but there was definitely something unusual about her.  When she finally decides to come out of hiding, I want you to check her out.”

“Well, it’s pretty unusual she’d be here at all,” McCoy commented with his southern drawl. “So what did she look like?”

“I don’t know. It was too dark to see.”

“Well then, what’s so danged unusual about her?”

“It’s the way she smells and um…,” Kirk smiled a little sheepishly, “tastes.”

McCoy looked surprised but contained himself, barely. “Good or bad?” he asked.

“Good,” Kirk answered, “Too good, in fact.”

McCoy shook his head then dropped heavily into one of the chairs in front of the temporary shelter.  “So what do we do now–just sit around and wait for our mystery lady to appear?”

“That’s the plan.” Kirk grinned and sat next to him.

McCoy stared at Kirk’s face for a moment. “Well, at least you’re smiling again. You’ve been awfully morose of late.”

Kirk grunted and his smile disappeared. “I have every right to be.  It’s nearly the end of our 5 year mission.  And to top it off, these last few months have been dull, dull, dull.  I was hoping for a little more excitement before I accept that Admiralty position at Starfleet Command.  I know I’m making a good career move, but giving up the Enterprise…”  He sighed heavily.

“So is that why you’ve been jumping on every away mission, even routine botany samplings?” McCoy needled him.

Kirk laughed a little, “Well this one’s turning out to be not so routine.”

“So it would seem,” McCoy acknowledged. “Anyway, I wouldn’t worry too much about being bored back at Starfleet, Jim.  Something interesting will turn up for you… it always does.”

When Spock and the other two men completed transporting the botanical samples to the Enterprise, they joined Kirk and McCoy to sit and wait.  The five men in the clearing engaged in small talk to pass the time as they watched the forest.  Hours went by and nothing happened, but they continued to wait.  Spock’s tricorder and the ship’s sensors confirmed that their visitor was still nearby, at times approaching fairly close, then scooting back into the depths.

They again debated the possibility of locking onto her with a transporter. Spock reminded them that the prime directive dictated they should leave her undisturbed if she wished it.  McCoy argued that the directive applied to viable civilizations and cultures, not to apparently stranded individuals. As the two men continued their debate, growing more adamant in their views they failed to notice that the subject of their discussion was now standing in the clearing.

“Sir!” Lt. Hernandez called.  The others turned in the direction of his stare.

There, not ten feet away, stood the most incredible-looking woman any of them had ever seen.  In all important aspects she appeared human – two legs, two arms, one head, one neck, one torso.  All the right equipment was there in the correct number and order but it was the combination of similarities and differences that stunned them.

Translucent golden-colored skin covered a smoothly muscled body with ample breasts, a slender waist and full hips.  Thick long hair hanging almost to her waist shimmered in seemingly impossible iridescent tones of golds, blues, and reds.  Most disconcerting of all were her eyes – bright emerald green with the vertical-slit pupils of a cat.  She wore no clothing or decoration other than a slender gold band encircling her upper right arm.  The men stood in frozen silence drinking in the sight of her.  She stood equally still returning their stares.

Spock was the first to break the spell.  “Greetings,” he said formally.  She stared back blankly, obviously not understanding.  McCoy looked at Spock scornfully. “Did you expect her to speak English?”  He pulled out the universal translator, and spoke to her again but her blank expression did not change.  Spock raised his eyebrow at the doctor in apparent disdain.  Chagrined, McCoy turned to the Captain.  “Now what?”

Kirk glanced at the others then took a tentative step towards her.  She mirrored his movement taking one step back.  He paused to turn his hands upwards trying to look non-threatening then took another step.  This time she held her ground.  He looked back at his men with a small smile.  He took another step and she backed up further than any progress he had made towards her.  He sighed and dropped his hands.

“Any suggestions, Gentlemen?” he asked.

McCoy answered, “I’d suggest that we go back to our conversation and pretend to ignore her.”

Kirk nodded and returned to the group.  “Let’s do as the good doctor suggests.  Everyone just sit back down, go back to our business and act as if we don’t even notice her.”

They sat in a circle and kept their voices low as Dr. McCoy furtively scanned her with his medical tricorder.  “It’s a bit difficult to get detailed readings from this distance, Jim, but she is humanoid.  Some unusual organ placement, but good old-fashioned iron-based blood.”  He glanced over at Spock, “Unlike some.”  McCoy noticed she was no longer standing where he had last seen her.  He looked up over his shoulder to find her peering at the medical tricorder in his hands.

“Keep your places, everyone,” Kirk ordered quietly as she surveyed them.  Her gaze rested on Mr. Spock and she stepped around the circle until she stood behind him.  He tensed slightly and Kirk whispered, “Don’t move, Spock.”  She reached forward and ran a finger along his cheek up to the top of a pointed ear. He looked slightly annoyed.  McCoy couldn’t help but chuckle and automatically smiled at her.  She mimicked him.

“We seem to be making progress,” Kirk commented softly. “Keep it up, Bones.”

But then she focused on Kirk and moved around the circle to stand near him.  Very slowly, making no sudden movement she might deem a threat, he rose from his chair to face her.  He was pleased to see that she held her ground.  Kirk touched his  chest, “My name is Kirk, Captain Kirk.”  She watched his lips move, studying him. She raised a hand and placed her thumb on his mouth much as he had done to her in the darkness. He held still.

Then to his surprise, she pressed her mouth against his.  When she completed her greeting and pulled back, the others had all risen to their feet. She approached each one and performed the same ritual.  They all smiled except for Spock who bore an expression of surprised annoyance.

“Well, well, well,” McCoy’s grin was wider than ever. “She seems awfully friendly now.  I suppose we have you to thank for that warm welcome, Captain?”

“I guess she thinks it’s how we say ‘hello’,” Kirk answered with some embarrassment.

“Well, I hope you won’t disabuse her of it.  I, for one, think it most charming.  But I see now what you meant by unusual…,” McCoy commented touching his lips, “However, I don’t think that it presents any danger.”

Kirk noted that the sky was beginning to grow dark again.  “Let’s pack up,” Kirk ordered, “We’ll see what she does.”

She watched the men as they went about the work of taking down the temporary shelter, collapsing the chairs and bedding.  She tried to help by carrying small items to them that they took and packed away all the while smiling at her.  The more they smiled the more she did.  Soon everything was gathered in one spot. The men had been observing her carefully while they worked and concluded that she seemed tame enough, even eager to please. By the time they were finished they had agreed that she should be brought aboard for further observation and analysis.  After all, their prime duty was to investigate new life forms and she definitely qualified.  Besides, they could hardly justify leaving her here alone.

Kirk issued the order to transport the equipment aboard.  She watched with surprised curiosity as it disappeared in the beams of light.

“Let her see some of us beam up first,” Kirk said, “Hernandez and Baker, you go ahead.  We’ll follow with her.”

She watched the two men disappear as had the equipment. Kirk gestured for her to join the remaining three of them.  She hesitated then started to back away.

“Transport Hernandez and Baker back immediately,” Kirk ordered and the two reappeared exactly as they had left.  He patted them on the shoulder to show they were unharmed. “See?  It doesn’t hurt a bit,” he told her. “All right, beam them back up again.”  Again they were gone.  Kirk beckoned to her once more, “Come on.”

The words probably meant nothing to her, but his outstretched hand spoke volumes.  She took hold and he pulled her beside him.  He squeezed her hand as the beams took them.

When she materialized in the transporter room, the strangeness of it overwhelmed her and she sagged against him.  He caught her in his arms and tried to reassure her.  McCoy handed him a cloak and he wrapped it around her nakedness.

“Seems a downright shame, doesn’t it?” McCoy observed dryly.

“Well, we don’t want to start a riot,” Kirk replied, “Let’s get her to sickbay, Bones, and see if you can figure out what she is and how we can communicate with her.”

“I would like to examine the armband she is wearing,” Spock said.  “An analysis may provide clues to her origin.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she allowed Spock to remove the band.  As McCoy and Kirk guided her through the corridors to sickbay, she stared at the many people they passed, who returned her stares with equal curiosity. Kirk thought that no doubt she was wondering if she should have trusted them so quickly.  There was no helping it now, she was obviously out of her element. They took her into sickbay. McCoy gestured that she should lie down on one of them. With some encouragement on Kirk’s part, she complied.

McCoy gathered and adjusted his equipment in preparation for running the various tests required for a full physical analysis. He saw her watching him with wide eyes.  He placed a hand on her shoulder and felt her trembling.

“Poor girl,” he commented to Kirk. “She’s scared to death.”

Kirk took her by the hand again and stroked her forehead gently.  It seemed to calm her a little.  He noticed McCoy smiling in amusement at him.  Then the doctor scowled slightly at his medical scanner while running it across her other hand.

“Something interesting, Bones?”

“You could say that,” he answered and picked up her forefinger squeezing it gently.  From beneath the nail, a  crystal clear claw appeared – an inch long and razor sharp.  Kirk looked uncomfortably at the hand which held his. When Nurse Chapel arrived, he tried to let go but she gripped him tighter.

“Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel will take good care of you,” he said to her, pointing at them to make himself understood.  She sniffed at Nurse Chapel and glared at her suspiciously. He gently but firmly extricated his hand and headed toward the door. “Let me know when you’re done, Bones.”

Several hours later, Kirk met with Spock and McCoy in their capacities as his head science and medical officers.  Dr. McCoy reported his findings first.

“I’ve analyzed her DNA.  The majority of it is human but  combined with traces of a number of other species I can’t even begin to identify.”

“Fascinating.  I take it is unlikely that such a combination could occur naturally, Doctor.” Spock said.

“Danged near impossible in my opinion.  It’s got to be some form of genetic engineering, but on an incredibly sophisticated level.”

“So you think we’re dealing with a unique life form, not a previously unidentified humanoid race?” Kirk asked.

“That would be my guess,” McCoy nodded in agreement.

“Go on, Bones,” Kirk requested.

“She’s younger than she looks. Maybe 15 or 16 years of age. Each of her fingers and toes is equipped with a cat-like claw. She has two sets of lungs.  One appears dormant and no, I haven’t figured out why that is yet.  Basic skeletal and muscular structure are the same as ours but far denser and more elastic.  She has two completely separate nervous systems, one like ours, one not — don’t ask me what that other one does, I have no idea.  She’s hairless.  What looks like hair on her head isn’t, it’s living tissue.  Each strand is an un-pigmented tube filled with live cells so all those lovely colors we see are light refraction.  Her hearing range goes well above and below our own. She can see further and more clearly than we can even in very low light.”

“That explains how easily she negotiated those woods in the dark,” Kirk commented.

McCoy paused at the interruption. “As I was saying… agility, reflexes, muscle strength, endurance, cell regeneration – all completely off the human scale.  Whoever engineered her, did one hell of a job.”

“Fascinating,” Spock observed again, that single eyebrow popping up.

“And what about that other unusual characteristic of hers?” Kirk asked.

“Pure pheromones,” McCoy answered, “Very effective ones.”

“I see,” Kirk exhaled audibly, “So what are we going to do with her?”

“Now there’s a loaded question, if I ever heard one,” McCoy said with a slow smile.

“Really, Doctor,” Spock said disapprovingly.  McCoy smiled wider, obviously enjoying himself.

“Did you learn anything from that armband, Mr. Spock?” Kirk tried to get them back on track.

“Indeed, Captain.  The material itself tells us little as it is merely a common gold alloy.  However, I did make a most interesting discovery.  The band is completely covered with microscopic engraving.  The same message is inscribed repeatedly over its surface in every known language, as well as in thousands of others of which our computer has no record.  I believe that the study of these language samples shall be particularly illuminating.”

When Spock fell silent, McCoy demanded irritably, “So what does it say, Spock?”

“It says, ‘My name is Shea.”

“A name tag?” Kirk laughed. “I take it there was no address?”

“No, sir,” Spock answered seriously.

“Shea,” Kirk repeated the name getting a feel for it. “So why doesn’t Shea talk?  I haven’t heard her make any attempt at speech.”

McCoy had an answer, “If she ever knew how, she lost it when her memories were erased.”

“Erased?” Kirk asked in surprise.

“According to her brain scan she only has about two days of long term memory.  I suspect someone or something must have wiped her mind clean and dumped her here just about the same time we arrived.”

“That explains why our earlier scans didn’t register her,” Kirk said. “But that raises an even more troubling question. How did someone slip her down there without our detection.  We have no indications of another vessel in the area.”

“Cloaked perhaps?” Spock speculated.

“Perhaps,” Kirk replied unconvinced. “She has no earlier memory whatsoever?”

“None.  She’ll have to be completely re-educated, but I’m guessing she’ll pick things up pretty fast,” McCoy said. “She seems to have a knack for learning.”

“Really?  What makes you say that?”

“Well, once she got over her initial fright, she started getting into things.”  McCoy looked amused. “It was like dealing with a precocious 2-year old–grabbing anything in reach.  I turned my back for a minute and she took my bionoscope completely apart.”

“Breaking equipment hardly seems indicative of remarkable intelligence,” Spock said.

“She didn’t break it, she disassembled it.  Then she put it back together and it worked!  I figured she’d be taking the ship apart next so I locked her up in an empty bio-med room.  Nurse Chapel is keeping an eye on her.”

“So we have a very bright genetically engineered humanoid female.  But if someone went to so much trouble, why would they wipe her memories and abandon her?” Kirk asked, seeking theories.

“Maybe they weren’t happy with the results,” McCoy suggested, “though that’s hard to believe.”

“Or possibly her abandonment is simply another part of an experiment with which we are either interfering or participating,” Spock countered.

“That’s an unsettling thought,” Kirk replied. “Lots of questions and few answers, gentlemen.  One thing I do know is that we’re talking about a young woman here, not a lab rat.  If this is all part of someone’s experiment, then I think it’s time it ended.”

Ensign Chandler’s voice on the ship’s intercom interrupted them.  “Captain, I’m in the recreation lounge,” he said urgently, “I think you better hear this.”

Over the intercom came the sound of a sweetly complicated but unfamiliar piece of music.

“Very impressive, Ensign, but this is hardly the time…,” Kirk admonished.

“Sir, you don’t understand,” Chandler insisted, “It’s that woman you brought up from the planet.”

“What?” Kirk was on his feet, “How did she get there?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Chandler replied, “I was just sitting here practicing some music when she came in.  She listened for a moment then practically threw me off the keyboard and started playing it herself.  I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“Are you in danger, Ensign?” Spock demanded.

“No, sir, I don’t think so” he replied, “She just wanted to get to the keyboard.”

“We’ll be right there,” Kirk told him and headed out the door.  McCoy and Spock were close behind.  He turned to Dr. McCoy, “I thought you said she was locked up.”

“She was,” McCoy answered hotly, “Chapel is supposed to be watching her.”

Kirk hailed Nurse Chapel and inquired about her charge.  She reported that the girl was safely locked away and that she had kept her eye on the door the entire time.

“I think you’d better go take a look,” Kirk advised her.  There was a brief pause then she breathlessly came back on the intercom.

“Captain, she’s gone and the airduct cover is open.  I’m sorry, sir, it never occurred to me that–”

“It’s all right, Nurse.  It didn’t occur to any of us either.

Kirk grumbled to his two senior officers.  “It looks like our guest is a going to be more of a handful than we anticipated.”

“Well, I did hear you say you were hoping for a little more excitement around here,” McCoy chuckled.

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Turnabout

 

The Cardassian, springing from behind a boulder, landed on B’Elanna’s back and toppled her to the ground. She tumbled without loosing her grip on her phaser rifle. She felt the heat of the discharge at point blank and detected the trace smell of ozone that came with it as he disintegrated.
At the same time, the other two she had just knocked down were getting back up. In her peripheral vision, a phase disruptor shot vaporized rocks and soil twenty centimeters from Chakotay’s foot. She saw him go into a roll to his left, to the cover of a massive oak-like tree trunk and heard the shot from his weapon, but didn’t see the outcome. She raised her left arm to parry the blow that was aimed at her head and punched hard and low, dropping one of her two assailants. In a swift and flowing movement, she met the other one with a mean kick to the stomach. In the rush of action, she almost didn’t hear Chakotay’s warning. She spun only to see the last standing Cardassian vanish from the top of the ravine.
She heard rapid footsteps from the wooded hill and turned around into a crouched position, prepared to face another enemy. It was only Chakotay running to her. “Are you hurt?”
She relaxed her stance. “No, I’m fine. I was lucky you saw him when you did. Thanks”
“Hey, what are friends for?”
As she brushed herself off, she heard the sound of rolling rocks from the cliff‘s side. She looked up just in time to see Chakotay’s phaser shot barely miss the Cardassian, who was probing for a handhold on the steep rock face, and shatter a small outcropping instead. They bolted off after him but he had too much headway. Although wounded in the skirmish, he climbed the incline, much more gradual at the top, easily enough and disappeared over the edge.
B’Elanna and Chakotay reached it just in time to see him take off in the shuttle that had, in all likelihood, brought him and the other spies to Alpha 441. The faint hum from below told them the other two survivors were being picked up by a transporter beam.
“Damn!” B’Elanna hit the rock with her fist and was rewarded with the pain of the impact and the metallic taste of her own blood as she brought her hand to her mouth.
“Should I get a pain-stick?” asked Chakotay.
Her first reaction was to glower at him, but his crooked smile mellowed her, as it always did.
They went back down the cliff and ran the short distance through the woods to the compound. A Bajoran assault vessel was gaining speed when they reached the guard post, and the instant they walked into the tactical room, the pilot was calling in to report the destruction of the Cardassian shuttle.
***
Sitting at the conference table of the Maquis ship’s small briefing room, the girl looked nervous as B’Elanna was scrutinizing her from the oposite end. Chakotay had gone off to the side of the room with Santos and the two were talking quietly, no doubt about this newcomer into the movement.
B’Elanna had mixed feelings about her. While her Bajoran origin should be a reason to trust her, the fact that she was a former -or so she said- Starfleet officer didn’t speak well for her. To top it off, she had recently been involved in a Starfleet operation to infiltrate the Maquis. B’Elanna couldn’t help but wonder if the information she was bringing was real or a ploy to gather intelligence, even though Santos, who had introduced her, seemed to believe her reversal was sincere.
Chakotay and Santos were coming back toward the table now, and sat, the first across from the Bajoran, the other next to her.
“All right,” Chakotay said. “Tell me again. How do you know about Alpha 441?”
Santos gave her an encouraging look when she turned to him. “Go ahead, Laren, tell him.”
“I saw a report on Cardassian activity before I left the Enterprise. The Central Command has been suspecting that the Maquis has a base of some kind on the planetoid, they’re just not sure what. They sent a recon team, which Santos tells me you’ve killed, but they managed to send a partial message to Gul Evek on the Vetar before you finished them off. The report said the Cardassians were planning a strike against the planetoid”
B’Elanna turned with an angry look at the view of Moriya II in the window. The plasma storm that was raging off the opposite side of the planet was like a physical manifestation of her mood.
They’d been too slow. Evek didn’t need to know what was on Alpha 441. Knowing that the Maquis had anything at all there would be a good enough reason for him to see the planetoid destroyed. The question was how and when it was going to happen.
Chakotay’s voice smoothed her temper. “B’Elanna, would you please assign Miss Ro some quarters?”
“Sure.” B’Elanna pushed off the bulkhead and unfolded her arms. “Come on,” she said, and stalked off without looking whether “Miss Ro” was following. She strode along the corridors at a rapid pace, knowing the Bajoran girl was behind her only from hearing her matching footfall. After two or three minutes of silent rush, the girl spoke up, with no trace in her voice of strain from their speed or apology for her actions.
“Look, I know what you think. ‘She’s played the part before, how do we know she really means it this time?’ Well, I do. I understand I’ll have to prove it over and over, but this is what I want.”
B’Elanna stopped dead in her tracks and turned. Momentum almost caused Ro to run into her. With a tinge of admiration for the girl’s gutsiness, she looked her in the eyes. “If it were anyone else than Santos bringing you here, you wouldn’t even have made it into the Badlands. You’d better believe you’re going to have to prove yourself. To me, anyway.”
They walked on passed three doors before B’Elanna stopped and opened the next one. “I hope you didn’t expect the kind of luxury you had on the Enterprise. It’s cramped, there’s no replicator in the cabins and what come out of the one in the rec room is terrible. We’re equipped for fighting, not tourism.”
“This’ll do. Thanks.” Ro stepped in and B’Elanna left her to settle in.
She was passing a lateral corridor when she heard a voice coming from that direction.
“Someone told me there was a new kid on board.”
She turned around and smiled. “Seska! When did you get back?”
“Just a half-hour ago,” Seska answered, falling into step with B’Elanna “I got you a new phase transition coil.”
“Thanks. Maybe we can get decent tasting food from the replicator.”
“That’s what you get for trying to adapt Pakled technology to fit on a Federation ship.”
B’Elanna chuckled. “Right.”
Seska turned serious. “So, who is she?”
B’Elanna jumped at an opportunity to have her doubts confirmed or disproved. “She’s Bajoran. Maybe you know her: her name is Ro Laren.”
Seska seemed to search her memory for a few seconds as they stopped in front of a turbolift. “No, that doesn’t sound familiar.”
“She was a Starfleet Lieutenant. She says she’s left all that behind, but I’m not sure about her.”
Seska followed her into the lift. “There are a lot of ex-Starfleet in the Maquis. You were one, so was Chakotay.”
“Deck one.” B’Elanna said for the computer. Then, facing Seska: “I spent less than two years at the Academy. Chakotay’s people were caught in the middle of a dispute between Starfleet and the Cardassians over their planet. We’ve all got good reasons to be dissatisfied with the Federation.”
“You said she’s Bajoran. I’d think that gives her a good reason too. Maybe an even better one.”
B’Elanna felt a sudden hint of shame at her attitude. The Bajorans were also Seska’s people, and she was right. Of all the victims of the Cardassian politico-military actions, the Bajorans were the most subjected to the oppression. Knowing that made it even more difficult for B’Elanna to understand Ro’s past behavior. “She was sent by Captain Picard to infiltrate Macias’s group and setup an ambush in the Demilitarized Zone. She says she changed her mind, but I don’t trust her.”
“You think she’s got a second agenda?”
“I don’t know what to think. She’s got Santos and Kalita’s support, and they say Macias trusted her. They also say she warned the Maquis about the Starfleet vessel hiding in the nebula, but what if that was part of her mission?”
Seska took a deep breath and let it out. “I think you’re making this too complicated. If Macias’ people say she’s ok, she must be.”
That was a powerful argument that B’Elanna found hard to refute.
“Where’s Chakotay?” Seska asked.
“He’s still talking to Santos, as far as I know. Ro brought back some information on Cardassian intelligence.” B’Elanna saw the concern in her friend’s face.
“What kind of information?” Seska asked as they were leaving the lift.
B’Elanna told her about the incident on Alpha 441. “We don’t know how they found out we had a base there, or how much the pilot of the shuttle managed to transmit to Evek, but she said there’s evidence they’re going to hit it.”
“Does she know when or how?”
“She didn’t say.”
They had reached the briefing room and entered. Chakotay was alone.
“Seska, welcome back!” he said. “Who did you swindle this time?”
“I missed you too.” Seska said with a short laugh as she put her arms around his neck.
B’Elanna made a little coughing sound. “Has Santos left?“
Chakotay diverted his eyes from Seska. “Yes, he says Kalita is working on a plan to attack an Orion freighter. They think it’s transporting more components for a biogenic weapon.”
B’Elanna couldn’t help but wonder where they’d gotten the idea. “I assigned Ro to crew quarters 7d. I think I’ll go get that replicator coil installed.” She didn’t wait for Chakotay to acknowledge her statement and went to the cargo bay to claim the part, leaving the two to their reunion.
***
After the second diagnostic program, B’Elanna’s frustration started to make its way out in her voice. “I can’t find anything wrong with the sensors. Are you positive you’re reading your display right?” Sure. As if a Vulcan could make that kind of mistake.
“The panel showed a distinct electromagnetic disturbance of unknown origin for a period of two point five oh seven seconds.” Tuvok said from the Captain’s chair.
“Maybe there’s something wrong with your console.”
“I do not believe so. I ran a diagnostic as well, and the result did not show anything amiss.”
The com cut short B’Elanna’s reply. “Kendra Valley to Metacomet, please respond.”
“Go ahead, Kendra Valley,” said Tuvok.
“We have a visual on a Cardassian vessel. Do you have it on sensor?”
“You’re the only ship we’re picking up in your immediate area,” said B’Elanna. The odd thing about it was that their position was at the same coordinates where Tuvok had said the phantom reading had appeared.
“I’m not dreaming this. It’s here, in front of us. We don’t detect any life forms on board.”
In the background, someone on the Kendra Valley ordered the launch of photon torpedoes. On the view screen there was a series of small bursts of light in the distance, and the com came alive again, this time with sounds of frenetic activity punctuated by electrical snaps and fizzles.
“Metacomet, we’ve been hit. Our photon torpedoes didn’t make a dent in this thing, but if fired back and we sustained severe damage to our engines.”
B’Elanna was looking at the tactical display. “I’m showing a core breach in progress. Eject your warp core!”
“We can’t. The relays are fused.”
“Are we in transporter range, Jonas?” Tuvok asked with an infuriating calm.
“No, not yet. It’s going to be at least ten minutes.” Jonas answered from navigation.
B’Elanna swore. “Their core is going to explode in less that eight!”
“Best speed, Jonas.” said Tuvok.
Best speed wasn’t good enough. The Kendra Valley blossomed into a fiery ball before they were close enough to evacuate the crew.
B’Elanna was torn between rage and grief. They had come back to Alpha 441 to warn them about this, and there it was, beating them to the draw. Why didn’t they detect this thing in time? They should have had it on their sensors long before it reached the first line of Maquis defense around the planetoid.
Tuvok’s voice cut in on her self-berating and jolted her into action. “B’Elanna, arm phasers and fire when ready. Jonas, shields at maximum.”
They were close enough to it now and to see it on the view screen, plain as day, as it was approaching a defense satellite and destroyed it in a single shot. Before B’Elanna had the Metacomet’s weapons fully armed, two other Maquis assault vessels came from the direction of Alpha 441. They took position on opposite sides of the Cardassian and fired their phasers in a simultaneous attack. They inflicted no visible damage to their target. The disruptor blast it returned caught one of them dead on and blew the nacelles off the other, sending it into an uncontrolled spin. B’Elanna fired from above, but the Cardassian’s shields were absorbing the energy she was pouring out like a dry sponge soaks up water, and its return shot cut through the shields and hit the phaser banks, sending a backlash through the circuitry that damaged the console. The panel irrupted in flames and acrid smoke and threw B’Elanna clear back to the bulkhead.
Dazed, she was barely conscious of Chakotay’s arrival on the bridge, followed by Ro Laren while Tuvok had vacated the captain’s seat and was helping her up. “Are you all right?”
She stood up, regained her balance and nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.” Was it from the blow to her head, did she imagine it, or did Ro look at Tuvok with an odd expression on her face? And did Tuvok stiffen when he saw her? She shook the thought off and brought her focus back on the action. Chakotay was telling Jonas to head for the damaged ship and to drop shields as soon as they were out of firing range. Guessing he intended to transport the people off it, she spoke up.
“We can use the tractor beam to stabilize them and bring them back to the surface.”
Chakotay turned his head. “When did you get them back online?”
“As soon as I got the part Seska brought back.” she said, going to the ops station.
Chakotay nodded his approval. “All right. Tuvok, do it. B’Elanna, contact them.”
She sent the message and activated the tractor beam. The small ship was on multi-axis tumble and it took some creative use of the device to achieve her goal, but she managed it.
“Thanks, Metacomet,” its captain said. “We’ll be fine for now. Try to stop that thing, whatever it is.”
“It’s a self-guided tactical missile.”
B’Elanna stared at Ro Laren at her soft-voiced remark, and soon realized all the others did too. “How do you know?”
Ro, whose eyes seemed to be glued to the view screen’s display, returned her stare. “There was a holo-image on the report I saw. It was a lousy picture, but what it showed looked like this.”
The missile was about to reach the upper atmosphere of the planetoid. Tuvok, who must have been busy at tactical, made a frightening report. “I’m reading the presence of one thousand kilos of matter and an equal amount of antimatter in close proximity on the missile. There is some kind of mechanism on the containment field generator, but the field creates too much interference for our scanners to determine its nature.”
“Can you take a guess?” B’Elanna said, hoping he would refute her own.
“There is an eighty-seven point five three nine percent chance that it is a detonator.”
“Damn your statistics!” B’Elanna retorted. “If it is a detonator, someone has to go on board to disarm it, and we can’t transport unless this thing’s shields are off.”
“Look!” Jonas was pointing to the view screen. It showed the missile approaching the atmosphere of Alpha 441 at high speed and skip at its edge in the fireworks caused by the friction between the gases and the shields. Repelled to a short distance, the missile assumed an orbit over the north pole, which would mask its presence to any unsuspecting vessel or ground surveillance, and kept it steady.
B’Elanna frowned when she glanced at the tactical panel. “It’s shutting down.”
Chakotay was next to her in a split-second. “What?”
She pointed at her readings. “Everything but the impulse drive is powering down. Weapons systems, shields, and all the rest.” She looked up at him. “This is our chance. Let me beam over and take a look.”
Chakotay hesitated, and finally agreed. “But you’re not going alone. Take Ro with you.”
“Why?” B’Elanna almost winced at the childishness of her question.
“Because she may be able to help you,” he said. “You don’t know what’s in there.”
She grudgingly agreed. Besides, she’d be able to keep an eye on the girl.
“As soon as you’ve beamed over, we’ll go tractor the assault vessel back to Alpha 441. The base is on the opposite side, so we’ll be unable to keep contact for a little while. We’ll get you back when we’ve got them to safety.”
***
The first thing they did when they rematerialized in the missile’s dark control room was turn on their environmental suits’ lights. B’Elanna swept her surroundings with her wide-angle beam and located the environmental controls. There had to be a modicum of life support system, even on an automated vessel, for the construction crews to be able to work more easily. She turned it on, and when the indicators showed it was safe, she took off the bulky helmet and put it on the top of a monitor.
The air was a bit stale, but that would be remedied when the system had cycled it once. Dim lighting had come on at the same time as the air cycle, and it permitted her to see her way through a short corridor into another part of the control room. Ro had put down her own helmet and followed her. They found one of the panels flickering with scrolling data.
“It’s in self-diagnostic,” she whispered.
“Yep,” said B’Elanna. “Something malfunctioned and it’s trying to figure out what.”
“Dreadnought”
“What?” B’Elanna looked around, expecting to see someone else than her companion.
Ro pointed to a plaque on the bulkhead next to the monitor. “That’s the name of this thing.”
B’Elanna sneered. “How appropriate.” She read the list of diagnostics on the monitor and blinked at an item. “That’s why our sensors didn’t detect it: it generates a randomized EM field to mask its warp signature.”
“Intruder Alert!” The male voice startled the both of them. They turned in a simultaneous jump. No one was there.
“Intruder Alert! Life support system shut down initiated.” It was the computer’s voice. On the next monitor, the indicators were diminishing at a speed that told them they wouldn’t have the time to get their helmets back on before the procedure was complete.
In a sudden inspiration, B’Elanna spoke with a tone of authority. “Computer, abort shut down. There is a maintenance crew on board.”
“Unlikely. There are only two life forms detected. One is Bajoran, the other, part Human, part Klingon.”
B’Elanna’s chest was beginning to feel heavy. Her panicking mind was groping for a reasonable response. When did internal sensors get turned back on? “We’ve… been genetically altered to infiltrate the Maquis.”
There was a three-second pause before the computer’s reply. “There are no Cardassian ships in the vicinity.”
It was increasingly difficult to breathe.
“There is… it’s equipped with… an experimental cloaking device.” Ro was gasping, struggling for air.
B’Elanna held little hope the computer would take the bait. She was astonished when life support was restored. Coughing and wheezing, she clung to the edge of the console until her breath returned to normal.
Following up on her instant cover, she asked: “Have you determined the cause of the malfunction?”
“Affirmative.”
Bad enough she had to listen to an insufferable, arrogant Cardassian voice. The thing was going to make her beg for the information. By the look on Ro’s face, B’Elanna could tell she was thinking along the same line.
“What is it?” she said with a gesture of impatience.
“A failure in the kinetic detonator.”
“I assume you can’t repair it.” B’Elanna was in fact hoping, given the antiquated design of that type of detonator, that the computer was unable to fix the problem.
“Assumption correct.”
Ro had an expression of relief on her face. “Are there any other malfunctions?”
“Negative. All other systems are fully functional.”
Well, B’Elanna thought, can’t be greedy. She waved at Ro to go back to where they had left their helmets and pointedly put hers back on. When it was locked in place, she raised her right hand with three fingers up, then folded two of them, pointing at the same time to her ear with the left. She turned on her suit’s com system to channel thirty-one. “Ro, do you read me?”
The girl nodded. “Let’s hope Dreadnought doesn’t.”
B’Elanna was starting to think that maybe she was wrong about her. This girl caught on quick. She put the thought aside for the moment. “We need to contact Chakotay. He’s probably back out there by now.”
“I saw something on the schematic display that looks like a maintenance pod. Maybe one of us could take it and go back to the ship.” Ro said.
“Perfect. You stay here, poke around. I’ve got an idea how to get rid of this flying bomb. I’ll go run it by Chakotay, get some tools and come back as soon as possible.”
Ro agreed and they opened their helmets. After verifying Ro’s observation, B’Elanna addressed the computer. “Dreadnought, I’m going to run a check from the outside with the maintenance pod. Keep your current status and position.”
“Acknowledged.”
If Chakotay approved her plan, she was going to have to do something about that voice. Running to the pod, she got in and took off. She flew it once around the missile and then changed course to meet the Metacomet.
The ship was coming around from the southern hemisphere. Its shields went up the instant she came into its range. Using her suit’s system, she called to let them know it was her and the shields went back down, allowing her to land in the small shuttle bay.
Chakotay was there when she emerged. “What’s going on? Where is Ro Laren?”
“She’s still on board the missile.” B’Elanna made her report while they walked to engineering. She was foraging in her tools when she finished it. “So I thought if I can plant the program in the computer, we could send it to self-destruct in an empty area of the Badlands.”
“Fine. Get what you need, and do it.” Chakotay put a hand on her arm. “Be careful.”
“Sure.”
On her return to Dreadnought, she had a fair idea how, with Ro’s help, she was going to put her plan to work. The first thing, though, was going to be changing the computer’s voice. It was really getting on her nerves.
When she got back into the control room, Ro waved at her. “Torres, look at this.”
She was at a small terminal that showed a trajectory.
“Is this what I think it is?” B’Elanna asked.
“The missile’s flight path from the construction site to this planetoid.” Ro said.
B’Elanna put her finger on a small dot a short distance from Dreadnought’s point of origin and linked to it by a curved line. “This is its only stop between there and here. A fueling station?”
“Reasonable enough.”
Another idea was making its way into B’Elanna’s mind. But first things first. She brought up a command screen and activated a minor program.
“What is the purpose of your action?” the computer demanded.
“I’m just double-checking your interactive applications.” B’Elanna said in a soft tone.
She found what she was looking for and, hoping that Ro would understand what she needed her to do, she reached into her tool kit and handed her a hyperspanner. She was relieved to see her walk toward the warp drive. She was actually starting to like her. Her courage and her determination commanded respect.
Just under a minute later, a reading on another panel changed. She waited for Ro to return and spoke up. “Dreadnought, check your readings on the plasma injector.”
The computer’s response was almost instantaneous. “The calibration is off by seven point nine five percent.”
B’Elanna didn’t wait for it to finish. She made a change small enough so that the computer wouldn’t detect it right away, but sufficient to attain her first goal.
“Imple…nting …rection.” the computer stammered. “…lfunction in voc… …outine. …empting …ect.”
To her left, Ro was busy under another console. When she came back up, the self-diagnostic display disappeared.
“Un… to pro…d. …quire …sist…”
“All right,” B’Elanna said. “I’ll take a shot at it. Shut down, then initiate a system by system restart sequence beginning with life support controls.”
The light blacked out, all the monitors went blank. A few seconds went by in total darkness, and an indicator came back on. Life support had been restarted. Next were the lights. B’Elanna and Ro went to work each on a console. B’Elanna input a command that overrode the vocal subroutine. “Computer, record my voice pattern and integrate it into your databank.”
The panel said “ready”.
“Reinitiate vocal response application, using new pattern.”
“Reinitiation complete.” she heard herself say.
“Much better,” B’Elanna muttered. She glanced over at Ro. “Find the mission file and delete it. We’re going to give Dreadnought a whole new goal in life.”
She went to the matter/antimatter reaction chamber and quickly found the detonator that had been attached to the containment field generator. Since the warp core was offline, she could safely remove the device and examine it. It didn’t take long to find the problem and fix it. When she went back to the control room, all systems had been restarted and were on standby.
“I’ve isolated the identity program and rewrote it,” Ro said. “Dreadnought thinks it’s Maquis, now.”
“Great!” B’Elanna’s new idea would be that much easier to put into action. That also meant they could openly contact Chakotay. “Torres to Metacomet.”
“Chakotay, here. How’s it going, B’Elanna?”
“Fine. We’re almost finished. Standby to beam us out of here.”
She debated telling him what she had in mind and decided against it. Chakotay wasn’t a vengeful man and she wasn’t sure he’d approve. And the more she thought about the Kendra Valley and the other ship that had been destroyed, the more she wanted to hurt the Cardassians back for sending this missile.
She took a deep breath and her heart beat quickened. A feeling came over her that was very much like the one she’d had when she told her father maybe he should just go away. She had regretted those words ever since. This, what she was about to do, she never would.
“Dreadnought,” she said. “Enter mission update.”
“Ready.” the new computer voice said.
“Your target is now Aschelan V. Set course and initiate maximum warp in thirty seconds.”
“Update entered. Course set. Warp speed in thirty seconds. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.”
B’Elanna had set things in motion. Things she was feeling good about. She ignored the countdown and, her sense of justice satisfied, picked up her helmet, activated the com system and smiled to the Maquis’ latest recruit.
“Metacomet, this is Torres. We’re ready to transport.”

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Star Trek-Invasions- Part 3- Battle of Legacy

The Starship Legacy, Only recently among the most impressive and formidable starships in Starfleet now was a floating hulk. Within the very heart of this mighty vessel her crew fought for their lives as growing numbers of Klingon aggressors ruthlessly lay siege to them. Ship’s Captain, Captain Nicholas Mason, desperately duelled multiple Klingon warriors in swordplay in sickbay, still recovering from his injuries onboard the recently destroyed USS Ajax. The Executive officer and Operations officer, Commander Aleya Mason and Lieutenant William Simmons desperately fought Klingons, fear and low morale while trying to get the ship operational and in Main Engineering, Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Commander Johnny ‘Beast’ Reed was fighting against his own programming and the severe damage to the ship to try and assist his fellow crewmen. None of the battles were going well, with entire groups of Legacy crewmen being separated and pinned down in various sections of the Sovereign-Class Refit.

Commander Aleya Mason fired her phaser at the last Klingon, hitting him square in the face. Casualties on the bridge were high, with only a mere few survivors of the ship to ship battle still alive. At some point during the chaos of the battle on the bridge, Lieutenant Commander Solkar had died and Captain Palmer, formerly of the USS Ajax, had also been shot and critically wounded. Ensign Holly Sparks, expert helmsman and former bridge officer of the USS Ajax had gathered most of the 12 survivors and taken them to secure the area close to the bridge, having also proven herself a superior marksman with a compression phase rifle.

Ensign Sparks slowly paced down the corridor, looking for Klingons. She was with a jittery young crewman, who despite his raw age of 17 and jittery demeanour was also a mean shot with a phaser and had lightning fast reactions to match. He was scouring the corridor a few meters behind her when a sharp intake of breath. She turned and saw a Klingon disrupter pointed square at the young man’s head. Then with barely a breaths notice, the large, leather-clad finger moved and the young man fell, dead before he even hit the floor. Stunned by the brutal murder that had taken place, she didn’t notice the Klingons pouring out of the rooms and corridors she hadn’t yet checked. A sense of despair filled the young officer as she surrendered and was quickly shackled and herded off by the Klingons. She knew that the Klingons were going to either publicly execute her or torture her for information, knowing that the Klingon leaders had lost their honour when the Duras took over. A small tear ran down her cheek as she was taken away.

In sickbay, Captain Mason was surrounded, tired and outnumbered six to one. The six Klingons surrounded him, with all manner of weapons drawn. Occasionally they would lunge at him and engage in combat. The tiring Captain was struggling to fend off their attacks, but as a younger warrior attacked in sloppy fashion, the Captain sidestepped and thrust his sword straight into the warrior. Watching the Klingon fall back and crash to the floor invigorated the Captain leading him to draw on his reserves and his best knowledge of sword fighting and attack the Klingons. He attacked viciously, slicing the warriors and killing them. But for all his skill, they were equally skilled finding ways to block his attacks. The Captain was having difficulty parrying the counter blows and he could feel his reserve strength ebbing as he fought. He took stock of his situation, slightly heartened by the fact that his last stand attack had killed four of the Klingons. Luckily for him, the Klingons were becoming overconfident, making mistakes that he was trying hard to exploit. Eventually after another few minutes of fighting he killed the Klingons and stumbled out of sickbay. Sword tip dragging on the floor, the Captain stumbled wearily down the corridor. He stumbled, in almost a trance, only broken by a shrill piercing scream.

In one of the labs, the Klingons had restrained Ensign Holly Sparks in a chair and found some active power cables, they were using them to electrocute her. They had already hit her and left her with bruises and a split lip. The 18 year old had never experienced full scale war and never been captured or tortured, she wouldn’t hold out much longer, but sheer determination was stopping her cracking. The big Klingon leered at her again, “What are the command codes to this ship” he said in a gruff voice. She looked up at him, so close to telling her everything she knew about the starship, but her stubborn streak took over and as vehemently as she could manage she spat blood from her mouth and said, “Go to hell”. The Klingon just smiled, clearly enjoying his work, “I hoped you would say that” he said, once again holding the power cables to her. Sparks danced as the young Ensign screamed again.

Captain Mason heard the scream again. Becoming more invigorated to find the source of such a sound and end the suffering that was causing it. He stopped outside a laboratory and listened. Inside he heard movement and then the high pitched screams again. Sneaking a glance around the corner of the door, he saw 2 Klingons working on a slumped figure. Closer inspection revealed it to be Young Ensign Sparks. A sudden fury gripped the Captain. He knew that Klingon honour had fallen by the wayside since Karath had took over, but he would never have guessed that the Klingons would torture someone so young, so innocent. He charged in, before the Klingons knew what was happening and slew them both in a fit of fury. He quickly unlocked the cuffs holding her in place and folded his sword away hooking it into his belt. He picked up the barely conscious form of the young Ensign and said to her, “I’m so sorry”, before carrying her away from the Klingon infested deck.

On the bridge, Commander Mason had turned her attention to finding Captain Mason. She and her remaining crew had managed to get partial internal sensors, but they could only differentiate between Klingons and humans, they couldn’t pick out individual officers. She could see that the Klingons were being pushed back on deck 17 and that they were few and far between on the other decks. They had been scanning for ages now and no sign of anyone in sickbay or any other triage centre aboard the ship. Just then, the turbolift doors hissed open and everyone looked around, a wounded Captain Mason stumbled onto the bridge carrying the inert form of Ensign Sparks. He took her to the ready room and laid her to rest on the sofa in their before stepping back onto the bridge. Before he could give any orders, there was the unmistakable shimmer of a transporter beam and Chancellor Karath appeared on the bridge, swords in hand. “Captain Mason, for a year now, this war has dragged on, pitting our minds against the other, you have killed my brother and my son and now I will exact my vengeance on you” said the Klingon. The Captain responded in kind, attacking the Chancellor, as the last Klingon attack force beamed in and attacked the crew. The Chancellor and the Captain duelled unhindered as the rest of the crew battled it out and Ensign Sparks recovered. A power overload completely blew half the bridge, killing Starfleet and Klingon alike, most of the people were thrown to the floor. Captain Mason and Chancellor Karath were momentarily distracted. Chancellor Karath was quick to recover, as the Captain turned back to the fight, he turned his hilt, smacking the Captain clean in the face. As he stumbled back, Karath unleashed a kick, causing the Captain to lose grip on his sword, launching it across the bridge where it landed next to the ready room doors. Karath finished off the dirty move by punching Mason in the face, leaving him sprawled on the floor.

The ready room door hissed open and Ensign Sparks stumbled out, not fully recovered from her torture, she picked up the sword and held it, rather confidently pointed at the Klingon, “Let him go” she said, her voice giving off that damaged sound. The Klingon merely smiled before barking orders. The Captain and the Chancellor simply vanished. Unsure of what to do Holly Sparks folded her Captains sword and helped up Commander Mason. Neither of them knew what to do and they shared dishevelled, confused looks as the communications panel fizzled and they heard all fleet communications, which  mainly consisted of one word, “Retreat”. They quickly concluded that the fleet was all but defeated. The war was about to become difficult.

SNEAK PREVIEW- PART 4- CAPTIVITY

Stardate 57335.06, Klingon prison colony Duko VaS, Location unknown.

He stood confidently, looking at the Klingon standing before him. Next to him, facing a Klingon opponent equally large and mean looking was his new found friend and more recently combat partner, Lai, of the Romulan Star Empire. The Klingons both leered at the dishevelled Captain and his Romulan friend, both of whom were among the most hated prisoners in the colony. Previously unbeknownst to Captain Mason and Starfleet, the Romulan Empire had been rent in three by the outbreak of Klingon hostilities, the Tal Shiar had been vehemently against helping the Klingons, the Senate had leapt at the Duras clan’s proposal for alliance and most of the civilians wished to stay out of the affair, maintaining their xenophobic lifestyle that they had adopted after the devastation of the Dominion war. The Tal Shiar had eventually split form the Empire, declaring war in defence of Romulan interests. Hopelessly outnumbered, the Tal Shiar had been scattered by Senate controlled forces and then picked off by the Klingons. Lai and Mason shared a glance, before recklessly charging the Klingons to fight for their lives.

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Star Trek – Invasions Part 2- One Year On

Part 2

Stardate 56383.8, the Klingon Council Chambers.

Chancellor Karath sat upon his throne in the Klingon council chambers. He was pondering the years success in the war with the Federation. The borders between the Klingon Empire and the Federation had been pushed back by 7 light years.  But there was a problem, Captain Nicholas Mason, former friend and prisoner of the Dominion was leading successful defensive missions, stopping the Klingon Fleet. The USS Legacy was personally responsible for the death of his brother and so began his quest for revenge. The large doors slammed open and 5 guards carrying spears, bat’leths and sharpened ceremonial swords escorted the most recent prisoners in. There was a brief commotion as the prisoners struggled against their guards, but they were easily subdued and forced to their knees. Karath stood up, towering above the kneeling prisoners. “Where is Captain Mason” he demanded. The Commodore who had been commanding the attack fleet that these prisoners came from looked at Karath and spat, “Go to hell”. The Klingon laughed, “NuS vA qu DoQ” he said to a warrior. “Channel Open, My Lord”. The Chancellor had opened a wide-band channel to the Federation. “Greetings to the worthless Federation, before you are a group of 5 men taken from our latest glorious victory. They will not give me what I want, so I must make an example of them and demand what I want. I want Captain Mason. And now to show you what an example is” said the Chancellor. He walked to a warrior who was carrying the dual-wield ceremonial swords and he grabbed 1. He then walked over to the kneeling line of officers and grabbed the first he came across. Lifting him to his feet, he took the ceremonial sword and slashed his throat from ear to ear. He methodically went across all of the officers, slashing their throats identically to the first. “The same fate will meet all who try to conceal Captain Mason’s location from me”

At that moment, Captain Nicholas ‘Nick’ Mason was back where he had started the war, in a briefing with Admiral Alynna Nechayev and Admiral Kathryn Janeway. He wasn’t an active part of the briefing but given his importance to Starfleet, Kathryn Janeway felt that there was no way to keep him out of the loop. His ship was holding position about 5 hours away at warp 5 under the command of his beautiful wife, Commander Aleya Mason. He knew that he was about to be given another dangerous assignment and that his ship and crew were going to be plunged into heavy fighting so it was no surprise when Admiral Janeway announced that his ship was headed to a Klingon shipyard over the New Frontier colony. It was supposedly unguarded with maybe a few birds of prey lurking around. They were interrupted by a frantic Commander. “Admiral, you should see this, transmission from the Klingon High Council” he fretted. They turned and watched Chancellor Karath slitting the throats of the 5 captives and demanding Captain Mason. The transmission ended and Admiral Janeway turned back to the table, furious, “Captain Mason, the Ajax will rendezvous with your ship, they are leaving orbit in 1 hour, they will accompany on your mission to destroy everything you possibly can that is Klingon in origin in the Beta  Ceti system” she said. The Captain nodded, “Admiral, there is something else. Recently the Klingons have changed their close quarters combat tactics, the last time they boarded the Legacy we took a lot of casualties from the Bat’leths and other bladed weapons. I was thinking that we should add swords of our own to the weapons cache, and then our officers will have a better chance of being able to fight a Klingon boarding party” said the Captain. Janeway looked at him, “Nearly all Starfleet personnel own a folding blade, now would be a useful time to bring them into play, Captain, pass on an order to the Captain of the Ajax that anyone who owns a folding sword should use it as an active weapon” she said. This suited the Captain as he had been a champion fencer in his academy days.

2 hours later…

Captain Mason stood with his sword at the ready. Surrounding him were Klingons with a range of weapons. He raised his sword in a defensive stance and the Klingons attacked. In a swift and violent combat situation, the Captain dispatched his holographic foes with only a few instances where he would have been injured. He was about to reset the program when a shot slammed the ship. There was a burst of sparks from the holo-emitters which signalled an imminent overload. He ran to the doors which crunched open as the whining of the overload reached a crescendo. officers were running in the darkened corridors the darkened corridors as the Captain ran around the corner. The explosion from the holo-grid was enormous. The corridor rocked and the Captain fell to the floor, losing his sword. Staggering back to his feet he picked up the sword and walked back around the corner. The deck was a raging inferno.

On the bridge Captain Jeremy Palmer was regaining his feet, he looked around the shattered bridge, a Lieutenant also stood up, “Damage report” coughed the Captain. The Lieutenant checked the screen, “Long range sensors are offline, warp engines have taken damage there is a hull breach on deck 4 and the holo-grid overloaded and exploded, there is an inferno on deck 8, fire suppression system is offline” said the Lieutenant. The Captain climbed back into the chair, “Raise shields, charge phasers and load photon torpedoes” said the Captain. “Klingon attack cruiser off the port bow” shouted the Lieutenant. The Captain looked at helm, the station was covered with panels, they scattered as a battered and bruised Ensign cleared her way. Her hair was a mess and her face had become a half mask of blood. Despite her generally dishevelled appearance, 18-year-old Ensign Holly Sparks had quickly risen to become recognised among the best of the helm officers. She quickly moved the ship, expertly working her fingers across the helm controls moving the ship into a position to attack the cruiser. The screen fizzled as the crew watched torpedoes launched. Seconds later the ship pitched heavily under the force of the blow. The Klingon ship continued to advance, weapons lighting up the USS Ajax. “Captain, shields are buckling, intruder alert on deck 8”

Down on deck 8, Captain Mason was still shocked at the damage, the bulkhead had ruptured and the deck was littered with the rubble that had been the wall between the holodeck and the corridor. The fires were raging, a figure appeared on the other side of the flames. The Captain took an uncertain step back looking down the other way he noticed more figures. Klingons had boarded the ship using a shield failure in that section. The numbers were far too many for the Captain who instantly hit his communicator and was beamed to the bridge. When he rematerialized on the bridge, he instantly secured the room, “Captain Palmer, where is the Legacy” he demanded as another shot slammed the ship, “Captain, shields have failed, weapons are offline, main power down to 23%” shouted Lieutenant Mick Carter. Palmer turned to Captain Mason, “The Legacy will be here in 3 minutes. I’m going to destroy my ship” said Captain Palmer. The doors hissed open and a Klingon officer the Captain had met 3 months ago stood there wielding a single Yan. “Captain Mason, this time I will have my victory” he snarled. The Captain raised his sword defensively, “Prepare your ship, Captain, this is my fight” he muttered to Captain Palmer. The Klingon stepped forward, “I will gain much honour for my father” said the warrior. The Captain chuckled, “Karath will never have honour for dragging the Empire into a war with allies” he said. This had the desired effect, the warrior swung his sword in a frenzied, but controlled way. Captain Mason backstepped, having the element of agility on his side and easily blocked the Klingon, but was finding it hard to get a strike of his own in. Eventually the Klingon began to get the upper hand, finishing the fight quickly by stabbing Mason in the side.

Captain Palmer heard the noise from the fight stop and looked to the back of the bridge. He saw the Klingon had stabbed the Captain in the side and pushed the blade right to the hilt. He pulled out the sword and Captain Mason collapsed to the floor. He looked around for the Lieutenant, but remembered that he had ordered Sparks and him to the observation lounge to draw power from their and put it to the warp engines to increase the effect of the explosion. The Klingon advanced, slowly on him. Palmer was unarmed so he backed up slowly, assessing the situation. The Klingon lowered his sword and punched the Captain, knocking him to the floor. He grinned his grin.

Pain revived Captain Mason. He heard the Klingon speaking to Captain Palmer and picked up his sword before staggering quietly to his feet. As he stumbled over to the Klingon all he heard was the warrior ranting on about the glory of the empire. Using his last reserves of strength he grabbed the blade with both hands and thrust it into the warriors back.

Captain Palmer saw the blade poking through the warriors chest and then retract. The warrior fell to the side and Mason stood there grimacing in pain. “Get to the point” he spat at the warrior. He grinned weakly at his own joke, then felt the sensation of spinning through a void as his world went black.

The Legacy bridge crew were frantic as the ship dropped out of warp, “Commander, the Ajax is dead in the water, there is no communications from her, there is a Klingon ship holding an attack position on the Ajax, their weapons are primed and their shields are at full strength” reported Lieutenant Commander Solkar. The ops officer, Lieutenant William Simmons spoke up, “Commander, I think we got a link on 4 Starfleet officers on the bridge, doing a communicator frequency scan. Got it, Ma’am, Captain Mason, Captain Jeremy Palmer, Lieutenant Mike Carter and Ensign Holly Sparks” said the Lieutenant. Commander Aleya Mason looked at the situation, “Open a channel to Captain Mason” she said. The Lieutenant tapped the console, “Channel open, Commander” reported the officer, “Legacy to Captain Mason, come in” said Commander Mason, hiding her excitement under a blanket of professionalism. There was no response for a minute. “Palmer to Legacy, Medical emergency” came the voice of Captain Palmer. “Lock onto that signal and beam any Starfleet personnel directly to sickbay” ordered the Commander, a knot of fear forming in her stomach. She quickly ran off the bridge into the turbo lift.

In sickbay, the dishevelled survivors of the USS Ajax were being fussed over by the medical staff. The Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Adam Lockwood was tending to Captain Mason, who was bleeding from his stab wound. Commander Mason ran in. She looked at her husband and sank to her knees, “Oh my God, how did this happen” she moaned. “He fought to save us” said Captain Palmer, motioning Sparks and the surviving Lieutenant. “Captain Mason locked swords with Karath’s son and beat him, in doing so he saved me, Ensign Holly Sparks and Lieutenant Adam Monroe” said Palmer motioning his surviving crew. They were interrupted by Lieutenant Commander Solkar’s voice. “Bridge to Commander Mason, 2 Klingon ships de-cloaking in an attack formation” he said, a hint of logical deliberation in his voice, “Red Alert, I’m on my way” she said making for the door. Movement behind her caused her to pause, “With your permission, we would like to come to the bridge, as… advisors” said Palmer. She nodded her ascent, “Doctor, let me know the minute anything happens to him” she said, motioning the still unconscious Captain.

As they reached the turbolift, the first shots hit the ship. “The Klingons are very angry” murmured Captain Palmer as shots repeatedly hit the ship. Sparks danced across a panel on the wall of the lift, “I don’t like the look of that” said Monroe as the turbolift stopped. They stepped out onto the bridge. Solkar rose from the chair, weathering the attack with graceful ease, “Commander, the Klingons are wearing the shields away” he said in the common stoic voice adopted by Vulcans. “All power to the shields, fire all weapons at the lead ship” shouted Mason as Solkar returned to tactical. An explosion of sparks threw a crewman to the floor, “Shields are buckling, Commander, 74% and dropping” reported the officer, “Fire torpedoes” she said. The Klingon ships angled around, they were targeting the main power regulators for the ship. They opened fire, pulses of green and red shooting forward as torpedoes and disrupters pummelled the target area.

The force of the attack instantly destroyed the main power regulators, shutting down everything. The power feedback damaged the emergency power regulators, meaning that when they kicked in, they only restored partial lighting and powered the life support system. The ship slowed to a halt, the engines, navigational thrusters were instantly cut off, with no power going to them. The crew were tossed around as the inertial dampeners failed and the shots slammed the ship that little bit harder.

In sickbay, the medics picked themselves up. The door hissed open and the Lockwood instantly snapped into fighting mode, grabbing a phaser from the emergency locker and firing on the Klingons as they entered. Despite the best efforts, the Klingons soon began to overwhelm the room. Swords were soon drawn as the Klingons spoiled for the glory of hand to hand combat. The Captain, who was still unconscious from his earlier fight and whose wound was still not fully healed lay there, still clutching his folding sword. The dwindling amount of Starfleet personnel picked up weapons from the fallen Klingons and did their best to fend off the attacks of the warriors. As a Klingon warrior swung a sword at the Captain, he snapped awake and flicked open the sword, rolling out of the way. He began duelling, with his side burning in agony. He didn’t think that he would be able to hold out long.

The bridge of the Legacy had taken a real beating. Commander Mason brushed away the debris that had buried her, looking around the bridge at the fires and the sparks, she noticed 2 crewmen dragging Lieutenant Commander Solkar out from under some heavy debris, she could see that he looked to be in a bad way, and the same image seemed to be repeated. Lieutenant Simmons coughed as he checked his damaged console, “Commander, I think the turbolifts are moving” he said, “Is it Starfleet in them” asked the Commander. The young Lieutenant looked at the scared, injured crew and looked at the Commander, shaking his head trying to spare them the fear. They both drew their phasers, a manoeuvre closely followed by those who saw it happen.

In main engineering, Chief Engineer Lieutenant Commander Johnny ‘Beast’ Reed was trying to override his own security measures. With the loss of power, Main Engineering had been put on full security lockdown, trapping the engineering teams in the engine room. “Chief, the capacitors are burned out on the starboard side, no joy over there, it looks like a massive power feedback has dumped into here, I can’t find a capacitor that isn’t blown. The Commander looked around, he didn’t know what to do.

The Klingon ships slowly moved into a position 10o off the port and starboard bow, waiting while their warriors fought to take control of the USS Legacy. They were floating like powerful harbingers as the crippled Legacy drifted in space, outside awareness was forgotten, so neither the crew of the Legacy or the crews of the Klingon ships were aware of the massing of Starfleet as they made a last ditch attempt to force back the Klingon frontline. Unbeknownst to the Klingons and Starfleet, the war was about to take a new direction.

 

SNEAK PREVIEW- PART 2-3 INTERMISSION- ‘BATTLE OFLEGACY

The Starship Legacy, Only recently among the most impressive and formidable starships in Starfleet now was a floating hulk. Within the very heart of this mighty vessel her crew fought for their lives as growing numbers of Klingon aggressors ruthlessly lay siege to them. Ship’s Captain, Captain Nicholas Mason, desperately duelled multiple Klingon warriors in swordplay in sickbay, still recovering from his injuries onboard the recently destroyed USS Ajax. The Executive officer and Operations officer, Commander Aleya Mason and Lieutenant William Simmons desperately fought Klingons, fear and low morale while trying to get the ship operational and in Main Engineering, Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Commander Johnny ‘Beast’ Reed was fighting against his own programming and the severe damage to the ship to try and assist his fellow crewmen. None of the battles were going well, with entire groups of Legacy crewmen being separated and pinned down in various sections of the Sovereign-Class Refit .

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A Game of Planets

 

A Game of Planets

  

First Officer’s Log, U.S.S Enterprise, NCC-1701

Stardate 31410.9    Year 2267

 

Commander Spock sat at the desk in his quarters studying the classified files for the third time that morning.  There wouldn’t be any new information to uncover – he had perused Starfleet’s entire chronology of the Supermen several times.  He was familiar with the history of the genetic augments, from their creation on Earth in the late 20th Century to their select appearances in the 21st Century.  It was highly illogical, Spock acknowledged, to be constantly reviewing the same files, as if trying to find a new angle  that might jump out at him.  He had gone over each case study meticulously, to the point where he knew every augment by name, and could recite each one’s unique, and often tragic, story by heart.

But he also understood that the stories were more than merely facts to recall, they were testimonies that haunted him, and captivated his human side, compelling him to revisit each one yet again.  The history behind the Genetic Supermen was fascinating – he had been forced to examine these case studies this past week – first out of duty, but now out of simple, undisciplined curiosity.

            No, Spock chastised himself, not of mere curiosity.  Of conscience.  For the first time in his life, Spock was experiencing a crisis of conscience.

Two days ago, arguably the most infamous genetic superman of all time, Khan Noonien Singh, had been banished by Captain Kirk to Ceti Alpha V, along with over seventy of his loyal followers, including an Enterprise crewperson, historian Marla McGivers.  The Enterprise had discovered Khan’s long forgotten ship, the Botany Bay, drifting in space, and freed Khan from suspended animation in order to save his life.  Fraught with the very ambition that ultimately exiled him from Earth in 1996, Khan revived his followers and enlisted McGivers’ aid to hijack the Enterprise, only to be thwarted in the end by Captain Kirk and McGivers herself.

During Khan’s tribunal on the Enterprise, Captain Kirk decided that Khan would be sent to Ceti Alpha V to enjoy the opportunity to conquer a new world, a decision Spock continued to be quite ambivalent about.  There was something unsettling about the whole decision, something that made Spock apprehensive.  He was certain Lt. McGivers made a poor decision to stay with the supermen – she would have fared far better with the Starfleet court martial given her last minute decision to betray Khan and assist the crew of the Enterprise.  But it was more than that – allowing a potential madman like Khan to build an Empire unchecked bothered Spock greatly.  What if Khan completely loses his mind on Ceti Alpha V?  Would chaos and bloodshed reign supreme on the planet?

Attempting to answer that very question, Spock reopened the file on Cordonnia IV, and accessed the star logs of Captain Jonathan Archer, to review the diabolical events that occurred on that planet, 108 years ago.

***

Captain’s Starlog, Enterprise, NX-01, May 21, 2159

“More iced tea, Admiral?”  Archer held up the pitcher to Admiral Morave, who was sitting next to him in the Captain’s private dining room.

“Thank-you, Jonathan,” Morave held up his glass while the Captain poured.  “The cranberry chicken was succulent.  I’ve heard so many great things about that chef of yours, I’d like to lure him to Starfleet Headquarters after Enterprise is decommissioned.”

“I’ll see that he receives your compliments,” Archer smiled, setting the pitcher aside.  “But with all due respect, Admiral, I have the feeling you didn’t call this impromptu meeting to recruit our chef.”

“No, of course not,” the Admiral looked down at his empty plate.  He was a thick man, slightly balding, with wispy grey hair – one who suited the shirt-and-tie professionalism of the Admiralty.  “I’ve come with specific orders for you, Jon.   Are you familiar with Cordonnia IV?”

Archer stole a glance to his first officer, who sat directly across from the Admiral.             “Cordonnia IV, a little-known class M planet, located in the Degas cluster,” T’Pol nodded.  “First Contact with the Cordonnian people was established by the Vulcans eleven years ago.  A controversial move considering Cordonnia’s pre-warp status.  I believe the people of Cordonnia are humanoid, similar in appearance to humans from Earth.”

“Remarkably similar,” Morave nodded.  “The differences, in fact, are marginal.  Cordonnians have a slightly longer face, a more rigid nose, a few minor differences in biochemistry, but for all intents and purposes they are very much like humans.  Now what I am about to tell you,” Morave leaned forward, “is highly classified information about the planet, and will shed some light on Commander T’Pol’s observation about our First Contact with the planet.   Twelve years ago, unbeknownst to Starfleet at the time, a group of genetic augments from Earth landed on Cordonnia IV and seized a parcel of land from the Cordonnian People.  These augments used the land to re-establish their religious colony, called the Gated Sphere.”

“Hold on, Admiral,” Archer held up his hand. “Genetic augments from Earth?”

“That’s right, Jon,” Morave rubbed his forehead.  “There were approximately 40 of them, led by a superman named Endion Praius, a lesser-known player in the Eugenics Wars of the late 20th Century.  He wasn’t a warlord, like a Khan Noonien Singh; rather, Praius was more of a demagogue, upholding genetic superiority but steering clear of the major international conflicts.”

“So what happened to him?”  Trip Tucker asked.  He sat at the end of the table, listening as he finished his catfish stew.  “And why haven’t we heard of him before?”

“Well, details are sketchy as to the history of this individual,” Morave explained, “but like Khan, he was able to amass considerable wealth.  Shortly after the Eugenics Wars ended, Praius became frustrated by the open resentment towards genetic augments on Earth, so he placed himself and his followers under suspended animation at his private compound in northern British Columbia.  He made arrangements to be woken up every twenty years so that he could assess humankind’s technological and political status, waiting for the right time to make his move.  It is believed he chose to awaken his followers in 2148.”

Trip looked at his captain.  “Makes sense.  Humans perfected the Warp Drive by then.”

“And any notion of ‘Eugenic supermen’ had long been forgotten about.”  T’Pol added.

“That’s correct, Commander,” Morave crossed his hands.  “It is believed Praius liquidated his remaining assets on Earth and obtained a Warp 3 space vessel – where and how we have no idea.  But he used it to get to Cordonnia IV, a relatively obscure planet unnoticed by humans or Vulcans at the time, and established First Contact with the Cordonnian people, a disastrous one at that.”

Trip looked at T’Pol.  “Well, that explains your First Contact controversy.”

“Praius and his followers made no attempt to communicate with the Cordonnians, and used force to wrestle land away from them.  Since that time, Starfleet has been wrapped up in everything from First Contact with the Klingons, to the Xindi crisis, to the Romulan Wars to even worry about Endion Praius, or Cordonnia IV.”

“Until now,” T’Pol finished the Admiral’s sentence.

Morave sighed, ignoring T’Pol’s comment. “As you may know, Starfleet Command, spearheaded by the Vulcans, have been in negotiations with the Degas cluster to incorporate them into the proposed Federation.  Unfortunately, civil strife amongst the people of the Gated Sphere has delayed our timetable.  A significant rift has occurred between the augments on Cordonnia IV, one set belonging to Praius, and the other to several of his former underlings, who are now residing with the Cordonnian people.”

“Residing?” Archer asked.

Morave nodded.  “The underlings broke away from Praius, claiming his views were too extreme.  Praius was a cult-like leader, whose philosophies of genetic superiority apparently became too much for his followers to handle.  They wanted to break away peacefully, but when Praius tried to force their compliance, they fought back, choosing to ally themselves with the planet’s original inhabitants.”

“Let me guess,” Trip inquired.  “Praius ain’t so eager to let sleeping dogs lie?”

Morave sighed.  “The ex-followers of Praius were able to turn the tables on him.  With the entire civilian population on their side, this group of augments took over Praius’s compound and sought to try him for crimes of hatred.  He escaped, and is currently living in exile on the planet.  Our intelligence believe he has created a makeshift headquarters in an ancient temple, 15 miles southeast of Cordonnia City, the center of the resistance movement against him. ”

“Where I’m sure he’s living the rest of his days peacefully,” Tucker was blatant with his sarcasm.

“You and I both know, Commander, if that was the case then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.  In fact, Praius and his remaining followers are conducting well orchestrated, guerilla-style raids on the people of Cordonnia City.  Starfleet is currently in the region, and has tried to mediate the dispute, but have been met with open hostility from Praius’s side.  The Vulcans, meanwhile, are getting impatient, and are demanding to see a resolution immediately, given the strict timeline for the proposed Federation.  The Degas cluster would solidify an important string of planets in the proposed boundary’s top quarter, away from the hands of the Romulans.”

Archer leaned back in his chair.  “So what are our orders, Admiral?”

“Well, Jon,” Morave explained, “with your experience in dealing with the augment crisis a few years back, and your crew’s prominence as forbearers for the new Federation, we want Enterprise to go to Cordonnia IV, and open dialogue with Praius, assessing the situation and reporting back to Starfleet directly.”

“Pardon my frankness, Admiral,” Archer could sense there was more to Morave’s orders than meets the eye.  “But what exactly am I supposed to assess?”

Morave shifted in his seat.  He preferred not to have T’Pol and Trip in the room, but Archer insisted.  “We want you to assesswhether or not Endion Praius is willing to relinquish his grip on Cordonnia IV and commit to the principles of peace and cooperation as espoused in the proposed Federation Charter.  Another reason we chose you for this mission, Jon, is because your ship also has a highly-trained, mobile attack force with the finest commandos in Starfleet.  If Praius refuses to cooperate, we need to…remove him from the situation.”

Archer looked directly at the Admiral.  “Why do I have the feeling we’re being considered the last and only resort?”

Morave rubbed his temple.  “Endion Praius is opposed to Cordonnia IV joining the Federation, but not for the typical reasons we’ve encountered from other planets – reduced sovereignty, fear of Earth / Vulcan dominance and the like.  No, my friends, Endion Praius is a genetic Xenophobe.  He is opposed to all things human, all things alien.  He believes in one thing only, the superiority of the genetic augments, and the achievement of their rightful place at the top of the evolutionary ladder.”

“In short,” T’Pol added, “he stands for everything the proposed Federation is not.”

“Precisely, Commander,” Morave replied, “And as far as Starfleet is concerned, the man is a political terrorist who is willing to sacrifice thousands of lives to climb that ladder.”

Trip sighed as he glanced to his captain.  “Genetic augments willing to sacrifice lives to better their place in the universe.  Sounds awfully familiar to me.”

Archer frowned, reading his best friend’s mind perfectly.   “It should be an interesting conversation.”

***

Cordonnia IV, May 23, 2159

“We gave Endion Praius our unwavering devotion for over 150 years,” Y’Tarol explain as he steered the land rover through the rough makeshift road, “that is, until we finally gave him the opportunity to rule and discovered his true agenda, and the extent he would go to realize it.”

Archer did his best to listen to the resistance leader’s story from the passenger’s seat, but found himself distracted by the man’s erratic driving.  The terrain they were riding on was hardly suitable for the speed Y’Tarol was going.

“Why are we rushing?”  Archer asked, looking around at the thick coniferous forest around them.  The road they were on looked nothing like one, and appeared to have been made overnight.

“We asked your Starfleet commanders not to provide you with an ideal rendez-vous point,” the augment replied, “we didn’t want our enemy attacking your shuttlecraft from the land.  If you flew directly over our settlement, they may have considered you a target.”             I should have beamed in, Archer thought, recognizing that in this part of the sector, transporter technology was still somewhat of a rumour.  He assumed Starfleet wanted to keep it that way.  “You still haven’t told me why we’re speeding.”

A firm hand grasped Archer’s shoulder from behind him.  A bald, scarred warrior leaned in close to the captain.  Archer noticed the huge cannon strapped to his shoulder.  “We want to make it to the settlement before nightfall,” the man’s voice was raspy, wounded.  The concern in his tone told Archer all that he needed.

Under Morave’s orders, Archer piloted his shuttlecraft alone, to a set of coordinates on the planet’s surface.  There he was to meet with two augments, who were to brief the captain on the day’s events, and escort him to the resistance center.  There, negotiations would be made for Archer to meet personally with Praius and his group, which Archer hoped to do within two days.

The men who picked him up looked nothing like the genetic augments Archer had encountered before – Malik, Persis, and their followers who hijacked a Klingon ship and threatened the Qu’Vat Colony with a deadly pathogen virus, with the intent of starting a major interplanetary war between Starfleet and the Klingons.  Whereas Malik and Persis were young, ambitious, attractive – this group looked seasoned, embattled, and ragged.  Two years of guerilla warfare can even wear down supermen, Archer supposed.

“Our former leader, Captain,” Y’Tarol spoke, as if reading Archer’s mind, “is committed to thwarting our rebellion.  And despite our recent victories, he continues to possess a wealth of resources that compel us to stay on our toes.  Endion Praius is a man who does not like to lose, and will do anything to ensure this conflict is being fought on his terms.  This makeshift path we’ve created to accommodate your arrival is one example of the lengths we have to go to.”

“You mentioned you discovered Praius does not like to lose,” Archer replied, “I was wondering if you could tell me-”

A bright, yellow flash ignited the forest to Archer’s right, cutting him off.  A spray of debris struck the right side of his face but before he could react the land rover tipped to the side and plowed into a small trench.  Archer’s seatbelt held him in place, but before he could react a wave of masked warriors emerged from the trees and surrounded the vehicle.  The balding cannon driver who sat behind Archer was thrown from the vehicle, but miraculously got up and charged the attackers.  He was shelled with phaser fire from all directions and collapsed in a smoldering heap.  Archer broke free of his seatbelt and landed on top of Y’Tarol’s body – the driver head had been crushed when the rover tipped over.  Archer squirmed from the jeep and tried making a crawling dash in to the woods, but was instantly surrounded.  In a fit of panic, he lunged for one of his attacker’s weapons but as soon as he laid hands on it, a stun bolt paralyzed his body, causing him to fall into a shroud of blackness.

***

Three hours later, Enterprise Bridge

“What do you mean you can’t find him, Admiral?”  An angry Trip stood next to T’Pol in front of the view screen.

“We found the convoy that picked your captain up approximately three miles southwest of the main resistance settlement,” Admiral Morave explained, clearly flustered.  He was dressed in full military fatigues and was speaking directly from the settlement.  His demeanour was quite unlike the calm, composed Morave that Trip and T’Pol had dinner with two days earlier.  “Both the driver and artillery man are dead.  We found no trace of Archer anywhere.  We can only assume Praius somehow intercepted our plans and is now holding Captain Archer hostage.”

“What for?”  Trip asked.  “The Captain was only sent there to negotiate.”

“Their course of action does seem illogical,” T’Pol added.  “Holding Captain Archer prisoner will not alter Starfleet’s plans to incorporate Cordonnia IV into the Federation.”

“Your blasted well right they won’t,” Morave huffed.  “Commander T’Pol, I want you to send down Enterprise’s Commando units – all of them.  They will be part of the Starfleet strike force that I already have down here to storm Praius’s headquarters.”

T’Pol’s expression was impassive, but her tone revealed a sliver of fear.  “I would prefer, Admiral, that we refrain from any open hostilities until we’ve received word from the Gated Sphere on Captain Archer’s whereabouts.”

“Commander, I am not about to allow some arrogant test-tube experiment dictate the course of Starfleet history.  My people and your people have worked too hard for this Federation of Planets.”

T’Pol stood erect.   “And so too, Admiral, has Captain Archer.  For that reason, it would be prudent to wait and give the Gated Sphere a chance to contact us.”

Morave looked annoyed.  “I’ll give them one day, Commander, but I still want your team down here immediately.  Praius is a very dangerous individual, and he’s clearly crossed the line here.  Morave out.”

The signal ended, and Trip turned to face T’Pol, his finger wagging in the air.

“I’m going to keep scanning the area for the Captain,” Trip barked his own orders, even though he was not in charge, “the second I get a transporter lock on him, I’m beaming him out of that mess.”

T’Pol said nothing.  She understood Trip Tucker better than anyone, and his unwavering devotion to Jonathan Archer.  And like Trip, T’pol sensed that the Captain had once again become an unwitting pawn in the game of planets that Starfleet kept playing in order to secure civilizations for its proposed Federation.

 

***

 

Cordonnia IV, May 24, 2159

Archer sat on his threadbare cot with his arms on his knees when the two men entered his cell.  He had been revived late last evening, given some food and water, and was cleaned up by two polite, gentle women, who told him nothing about his whereabouts.  Fortunately, he suffered only mild scratches to his face and a few sore ribs, nothing Phlox couldn’t heal with the nectar of a beetle from some God-forsaken corner of the quadrant.  Archer’s sleep was an uneasy one – that explained his lousy mood.   Confining a Starfleet captain and explorer to a dank, windowless room for nearly 24 hours was a brilliant torture mechanism, if that was what his captors intended.

The taller of the two men walked to the center of the room, brimming with confidence.  The smaller man stood at the doorway with his arms folded.  Archer recognized them both from the dossier profiles provided by Admiral Morave.

“Captain Jonathan Archer,” the taller man smirked.  He towered over Archer.  For that reason the Captain decided to remain seated.   “Starfleet’s finest warrior.  And its greatest ambassador.  I expected your admirals to resort to you a lot sooner than they did.”

“If this is the way you welcome all of your expected guests, Praius,” Archer responded, “Ambush their transports, murder their drivers, lock them in a prison cell – then I can see why you’re having trouble keeping your people’s trust.”

The taller man’s demeanour instantly soured.  “I could kill you where you stand for that comment,”  Praius’ tone was acidic, his eyes bore into Archer as though they were laser beams, “and I could do it in three seconds,” Praius held up his left hand in a squeezing motion, “crushing your skull with one hand before you would even react.”

Archer knew not to be intimidated; he had encountered such audacious threats from Malik five years earlier.  He had learned that it was best to thwart such intimidation with veiled threats of his own.  “You could, but right now I’m all that stands in the way between you and total collapse, complete with life imprisonment.”

“Human arrogance never ceases to amaze me.”  Praius gave a cocky, guttural laugh.  “Even in the conduct of blatant religious and cultural repression, you somehow justify your actions as a noble, altruistic crusade.”  The pitch of his voice was far deeper than any Archer had heard before.  He could not deny that Endion Praius was a monstrosity of a man, with well-defined, pulsating muscles.  He was surprisingly clean and well-groomed given the guerilla warfare he had been engaged in, though Archer suspected it was part of the act to appear this way.  Praius had scruffy, shoulder-length hair, a tattered blue cloak, and a tanned, weathered face that revealed a life entrenched in combat, but his clear attempt to portray himself as someone calm, collected, and in control suggested to Archer that Praius wanted something from him.

“The proposed Federation intends to honour all religions and cultures,” Archer responded,  “and all peoples, regardless of faith or heritage.”

Praius looked as though he had been slapped in the face.  “And what about genetics, Captain?  Does this Federation have a provision for that in its constitution?”

“I can’t answer that,” Archer shook his head, though he knew the answer.  “It likely hasn’t been considered up to this poi-”

“Let me answer that for you, Captain,” Praius cut him off, “it hasn’t been considered and won’t ever be, because humans have a nefarious tendency to completely wipe out all records of their mistakes, instead of taking responsibility for them!”

“Humans created my people, Captain Archer,” Praius continued, his voice calming.  He began pacing around the room like a professor, never taking his eyes off of the Captain.   “They created us to better mankind, to conquer its perils, and overcome its obstacles.  Disease, overpopulation, pollution, famine – we were genetically engineered with the physical and mental capacities to find solutions to these problems.  And we made incredible progress…until human jealousy sought to restrain us.”

Archer decided to stand, to challenge Praius’s claims directly.  “You were restrained by your own ambition, long before humans fit into the equation.”  He made sure he read up on the Eugenics Wars of the 1990s before he arrived on the planet.  “Khan Noonien Singh and his rivals couldn’t agree on who was to be absolute ruler of Earth, and nearly brought the planet to nuclear holocaust before humans stepped in.”

Praius smirked as he shook his head in disgust.  “Always bringing it back to Khan.  As if Khan is supposed to represent every genetic augment ever born.  No, Captain.  Khan was a fool – a short-sighted neophyte who thought his sole purpose was to conquer.  I propose much more than that, Captain.  Are you familiar with the theology behind the Gated Sphere?”

“I know what Starfleet has collected about your group,” Archer nodded.  “It is a religious movement, founded by yourself, which seeks to exalt the status of genetically-engineered people, and offer them elevated positions in society.”

“An accurate description but, not surprisingly, limited in scope,” Praius replied with a snort.  “The past 2000 years of human history has been rift with warfare, terrorism, torture – every generation has been inundated with global conflicts – the Crusades, the 100 Years War, World Wars I, II, and III – each one labeled “the War to End All Wars,” and each one nothing more than a mere forerunner to the next.  My point being Captain – human beings cannot govern themselves.  They exist only within “a state of nature” – trying to compete with one another for power, money, and prestige.  Technology, instead of being used as a tool for progress, is instead an instrument of the manipulation, control, and bloodshed that humans inflict upon themselves.”

“What the Gated Sphere proposes, Captain,” Praius concluded, “is a higher standard of human civilization.  To create superior leadership, beyond simple human impulsions, one that establishes a clear hierarchical order and makes proper usage of humankind’s greatest accomplishment – genetically engineered symbionts.”

Archer frowned at Praius’s words. “What you want is a dictatorship, with you as the dictator.”

Praius scoffed.  “Again you generalize things, Captain.  Like dogs protecting bones, the people of Earth snarl at rational, new ideas that threaten their naive moniker that they alone speak for the human race.  Now more than ever, as human beings begin to explore new galaxies, meet new civilizations, and forge alliances, we need guided leadership, one that won’t be plagued with human compulsions. If nothing else, Captain, the Xindi attack on Earth seven years ago showcases the dangers of misguided human leadership in this new age of exploration.”

Archer refused to be drawn into the argument – the Xindi attack was the result of a complicated Xindi conspiracy that had nothing to do with misguided human leadership. Instead, Archer chose to attack Praius’s claims directly.

“If your ‘Gated Sphere’ movement is proposing such superior leadership,” Archer stated, “then why are half your people fighting against you?”

“They are no longer my people,” Praius’s expression instantly turned sour, “The majority of them fail to understand that to bring about great change, you must first show people the alternative.  What I set out to do on Cordonnia was to create a powerful society, to show humans how great they could become.”

“You advocated the segregation of augments and villagers, keeping them apart on lines of genetics.”  Archer’s voice grew more heated.  “You called for laws forbidding augments and Cordonnians from co‑habitating or marrying.  You tried to seize control of the planet of the very people who allowed you to stay in the first place!”

Praius’s eyes grew wide, intense.  “It was – is – necessary, Captain.  We can’t afford to contaminate the genetic bloodline.  Segregation is needed to establish the hierarchical structure humankind needs to establish order and advance society.  It is the first step in propelling mankind to its greatest evolution!”

“I call it the first step to genocide!”  Archer shot back.

Praius straightened himself.  He appeared wounded by Archer’s comments.  Archer braced himself for Praius to lunge at him, but it didn’t happen.  Instead, the augment drew in a heavy breath.

“I expected as much, Captain,” Praius didn’t bother hiding the disappointment in his voice.  “It is obvious that your Starfleet, together with my renegade warriors and the people of Cordonnia IV, fail to recognize the evolutionary stepping stone being offered by the Gated Sphere.  We, however, remain committed to our cause, for the good of all humanity, and we will do whatever we can to bring our principles to the fore.”

“You can’t be serious.”  Archer retaliated.  “Your compound is surrounded.  An entire regiment of Starfleet’s elite corps, not to mention your own people, are moving into place as we speak.  Starfleet has you labelled as a murderer and a terrorist.   My kidnapping has only intensified their cause.  You’re outgunned and out-manned, surely your genetically-superior intellect can figure out that the odds are against you!”

A look of disgust fell over Praius’s face.  He shook his head as he turned away from the captain.  “This is not our universe, Captain, though we were born into it.  Regardless, we are not going to sit idly by and watch humankind bungle its most propitious opportunity.”

“Are you listening to this absurdity?”  Archer challenged the guard at the door.  “Are you willing to fight to the death for this philosophy?”  The guard looked forward, ignoring Archer who was glaring in his eyes. The guard’s expression remained stone-like, ashen.  There was something about the man’s eyes that unsettled Archer.

“Croft is one of my most loyal supporters, Captain.”  Praius replied as he headed towards the doorway.  “My ‘genetically-superior’ intellect is well aware that Starfleet has tipped the scales in my opponent’s favour.  I had hoped I could make you see the voice of reason, but I cannot.  Nevertheless, I am not going to punish you for contradicting me.  My people and I are much more celestial than that, but mark my words, the Gated Sphere will live on to challenge any organization that presents an obstacle to human progress.  Your ‘Federation,’ by allying itself with peoples who wish to exploit and belittle the human race, is one such obstacle.”

Archer knew exactly who Praius was talking about, and explained that the Enterprise and its crew had spent the past nine years proving to the Vulcans that humans could hold their own in interstellar politics and exploration, but Praius appeared unimpressed.

“Your elite corps will likely be storming my facility within the next day or so,” Praius stated before he left the cell, “…and it will be a glorious finale.”

“Praius, don’t be a fool!” Archer stormed to the cell door, but Croft closed it in his face.  “You’re sending your people on a suicide mission.”  His words were cut short by the click of the door’s lock, leaving him once again in the isolation of his cell.

 

Enterprise Bridge, May 25, 2159

“We’ve received no word from the augments, Commander,” Morave informed T’Pol flatly, “we need to move against them now.  My teams are in place.”

T’Pol tried staring the commander down in the viewscreen, but to no avail.  She had exhausted every available avenue to hold off the attack, but recognized that Morave’s agenda was being dictated by powers far greater than even he cared to admit.

T’Pol glanced at an incensed Trip and knew she needed to speak before he did.  “What assurances do we have regarding the safety of Captain Archer?”

“Assuming he isn’t already dead,” Morave answered, “you have my word that we will do our best to free him unharmed.  Morave out.”

Trip stormed across the bridge to the turbolift the second the transmission cut out. “I don’t trust him.”  He tapped a comm relay just before he entered the lift.  “Tucker to Reed?  Are you in position to storm the compound?”

“Affirmative.”  Malcolm’s whisper could barely be heard over the comm line.

“The second you spot the Captain, let me know immediately.”

 

Cordonnia IV, May 25, 2159

Archer paced the floor of his cell with his hands on his head.  He was surprised the elite force hadn’t yet attacked the compound.  The Vulcans would certainly be pressuring Morave by now, claiming that to wait any longer while the enemy bolstered up his defenses would be an illogical strategy.

To Archer’s surprise, the door to his cell suddenly clicked open.  Standing in the open entranceway was Croft, his expression as unrevealing as it was one day earlier.

“You’re free to go.”  The man said.

Archer heard the man but still had to repeat the statement.  “You’re letting me go?”

“Grandmaster Praius does not hold you alone accountable for the ignorance of your populace,” Croft glared at Archer, “he is a far greater man than that.”

Archer didn’t have time to argue the point.  The man was clearly brainwashed.  Instead, Archer bolted past him and into the compound.  He realized he had no idea where he was – the layout of the headquarters appeared to be in two stories, and was enveloped in blackness, the only light coming in through slight openings in the brick walls that must be used as lookout posts.  He was indeed in the Cordonnia IV mudbrick temples, where Starfleet believed Praius’s secret hideout was.

He tried following the light.  He was hoping to encounter Praius’s people – he expected to see them at select stations throughout the building, armed and ready to fight, and was thrown off by the eerie silence.  Perhaps Praius’s plan was to have his people ambush the assault team once they stormed the compound.  Archer scanned the area around him, looking for potential hiding spots, but could see no one – it was as if the compound was completely deserted.

“Captain!”  A voice emerged from the shadows.  Archer spun around to see his security officer, Malcolm Reed, dressed in a black camouflage, commando uniform with a heavy assault rifle.  He grabbed his captain’s arm and pulled him into the darkness.

“You’re already this far into the compound?”  Archer blurted out.  “You haven’t encountered any resistance?”

“No.”  Malcolm spoke quickly, tuning his combadge.  “Reed to Tucker.  I have the Captain.  One to beam up.”

Revelations suddenly came crashing down on Archer’s mind.  If the elite corps had already stormed the compound, and encountered no resistance, then Praius must have had something else in mind….

Praius’s words flooded into his head:  We will do whatever we can to bring our principles to the fore.

“Malcolm wait-”  Archer called out before his atoms pulled themselves apart and were sent into the Enterprise transporter beam.

 

Enterprise Transporter Room, 30 seconds later

“Captain, are we glad to see you!”  A relieved Trip Tucker greeted the Captain as he re-materialized on the transporter pad.

“Trip, contact the strike team!”  Archer bounced off the pad, not even acknowledging his chief engineer’s greeting.

“I can’t, Captain,” Tucker replied, “we’re forbidden from open communications with an active strike team.  What’s going -?”

“Get me a phaser, quickly,” Archer ordered, “I’m going back down there.”

 

 

Cordonnia IV, Gated Sphere Compound, one minute later

 

“Captain!”  Malcolm called out as Archer materialized in the middle of the strike team formation.  “What in the blazes are you doing?”

“No time to explain.”  Archer assumed control.  “Have you encountered any of the augments, yet?”

“No, but we believe they’re in the central abbey beyond those doors.”  Reed pointed to a stone archway sealed off by two makeshift wooden doors that appeared to have been fortified with wood braces and rope.

“We’ve tried communicating with them, Captain,” an assault team member said, “but no response.  We tried scanning for their biosigns, but no luck there either.  They must be blocking our sensors somehow.  I believe they are waiting for us to charge in.”

A sickening feeling crept into Archer’s stomach.  “Do it,” he replied coldly.

The detonation was quick and clean.  The archway blew open in seconds, and the strike team charged in waves with blast shields, tear gas canisters and assault rifles at the ready.  As Archer feared, the commandoes froze in their tracks once their minds registered what they saw.

“What the hell?”  Reed muttered.

“We’re too late,” Archer replied, looking at the devastation around him.  The sickening feeling was now a lead weight in his stomach.

Bodies.

Dozens of men, women, and even children, lying side by side, in a ritualistic pattern throughout the abbey floor.  Their superhuman physiques prevented the usual pale discoloration and rigor mortis that set in most corpses, but there was no mistaking the fact that these people were dead.

“I’m not detecting any movement, Captain,” one of the commando unit leaders reported.  He had ordered his men to survey all of the bodies, to check for any signs of life.  “This appears to be some sort of mass suicide.”

“They’ve been dead for hours.”  Archer voice dropped, realizing far too late that Praius’s “glorious last stand” would involve not fighting and dying as martyrs, but a defiant act of protest, a vicious slash in the face of the humans, Vulcans, and everyone involved in the proposed Federation.  With Starfleet armed and ready to arrest him, Praius, rather than face the humiliation of being incarcerated and having his church broken up, ordered his followers to commit suicide, no doubt espousing the twisted, cult-like theology that clearly won over individuals like Croft.

“They appear to have ingested some sort of poison,” a medic reported to Archer, holding up a simple, plastic cup.  “It appears to have been fast acting.  They diluted it in a tea-like drink.”

“Send it up to Enterprise along with one of the bodies,” Archer grimaced, “Have Phlox determine the exact cause of death.”

Archer glanced around the room at the carnage.  He watched the heart-wrenching reactions of the four genetic augments who comprised a contingent in the Starfleet strike team, sifting through the bodies of their former friends and colleagues.  Two wailed openly, an unusual action for augments, but certainly appropriate.  Several of the children appeared to have been forced to ingest the poison.

“Archer, what the hell is going on!?”  Admiral Morave stormed into the abbey.  Like the commandoes, he too stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the carnage.  “What the-?  Have you found Praius?”

“I believe so, sir,” One of the commandoes reported as he walked down from a crude stone staircase towards the front of the room.  “We found his corpse at the top of the temple, or what was left of it.   He appears to have…burned himself alive.”

“Bloody lunatic,” Morave muttered.  He looked around at the bodies, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.  “These are supposed to be supermen?  How could they have been so easily swayed?   What do you make of all this, Captain?”

“I remember an old adage from my experience at Cold Station 12,” Archer frowned, “It was a phrase coined by one of the scientists of the Chrysalis Project of the late 20th Century, the project that bred the supermen:  ‘Superior ability creates superior ambition’.”

“I think we can add a new line,” Archer concluded, “Superior ambition breeds supreme insanity.”

“My God.”  Morave shook his head.  “What do we do about this mess?”

No one attempted to answer the question, as a somber pall blanketed the room.  Archer himself stood quietly, amidst the bodies, the death and the barbarity.   T’Pol often quipped that he was merely a pawn in Starfleet Command’s “game of planets” to convince various populations that the proposed Federation was a good idea.  More than ever, her analogy hit home.  Archer would need to spend the next few days coming to terms with this senseless slaughter.  Regardless of whether Starfleet decided to cover up the affair or not, the incident of the Gated Sphere would be a blight on the founding of the Federation.   But it must also, Archer realized, serve as a necessary reminder of the importance of unifying intergalactic peoples, to prevent madmen like Adolf Hitler, Philip Green, and Endion Praius from gaining political sway ever again.  For that reason, he decided that he would continue to play this “game” until Starfleet’s “United Federation of Planets” comes into fruition…

 

Personal Log, First Officer Spock, U.S.S Enterprise, NCC-1701-A

Stardate 8413.8    Year 2287

 

Spock sat cross-legged on the floor in his black robes.  The atmosphere in his quarters were perfect for meditation – it was quiet, candle-lit, with a faint scent of incense lingering in the air – yet he could not maintain his concentration.

He stood up and returned to the files that he had pulled up on his computer a few minutes earlier.  For the past month since his return from Vulcan, and his detour to 1980s San Francisco, Spock held a particular fascination with the events that led up to his death, and his miraculous rebirth.  He recognized that to repeatedly review such events was not logical, but his human side remained compelled by the chronology of circumstances that, when added up, compiled a most engrossing historical study.  The fact that he and his crewmates played such a pivotal role in these events added to the intrigue.

It was the decisions made by he and his crewmates during those events that he continued to ponder, particularly the decision to allow Khan to inhabit Ceti Alpha V and build an Empire   He remembered, some 19 years earlier, analyzing Captain Kirk’s decision for weeks afterward, reviewing the history of Project Chrysalis, the Eugenics Wars, and the Star Logs of the original Enterprise NX-01, especially the crew’s interactions with Dr. Arik Soong, the brilliant criminal scientist who stole 19 genetically enhanced embryos from Starfleet’s Cold Station 12 and raise them as his own “children,” only to lose control of them 20 years later.

But above all else, it was the story of cult-leader and genetic augment Endion Praius that continued to haunt Spock.  The name Praius had become synonymous with the most notorious cult-leaders of the past three centuries – Jimmy Jones, David Koresh, Philip Green, and Kodos the Executioner to name a few.  But the Praius affair also served as an important case study of the potential effects of allowing a genetically-enhanced being to set up an operation, unchecked, on another planet.  Granted, the conditions on Cordonnia IV were altogether different from Ceti-Alpha V – Cordonnia IV was already inhabited with a well-established population, whereas Ceti-Alpha V was a rugged, uninhabited land that Khan and his followers could rule and destroy to their own peril.  For that reason, Spock supported Captain Kirk’s decision 19 years ago, and continued to defend it today.

The soft chime of the doorway interrupted Spock’s reading.  He was expecting his guest – indeed, he was looking forward to this particular visit.

Captain James T. Kirk entered his friend’s quarters, dressed in an off duty smock and blue jeans.  He glanced at Spock’s monitor and took a seat across the table.

“Some light evening reading, I see,” Kirk smirked.  “The Cordonnia IV massacre is always an uplifting tale.”   Kirk’s sarcasm was unmistakable, even for Spock, who was having to retrain himself in human witticisms.

“You are familiar with the tragedy then, Captain?”

“Superior ambition breeds supreme insanity,” Kirk replied.  “Those were Jonathan Archer’s words – it’s a famous quote that should be mentioned in that star log you’re currently reading.”

“That’s correct.”  Spock replied.  That quote in particular struck Spock as one that was as applicable to Khan Noonien Singh as it was to Endion Praius.

“Like you, Mr. Spock, I was forced to wrestle with my conscience over the decision to exile Khan to the Ceti Alpha system.” Kirk said.  “Khan’s fate on that planet, and the fate of his people, including Marla McGivers, will haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“Curious, Captain,” Spock asked, “had Ceti Alpha VI not exploded, and disrupted the orbit of Ceti Alpha V, what type of rule would you have foreseen Khan amassing on the planet?”

“You want me to speculate, Mr. Spock?”  Kirk looked surprised.

“A hypothetical question if you will,” Spock raised an eyebrow in return, “to, as you say, ‘humor’ me.”

“Khan’s track record of absolutism certainly suggests to me that he would have established himself as a tyrant,” Kirk replied, “but as was the case with Praius, I believe a significant segment of his followers would have come to see the light.  And like Praius, Khan would have been willing to sacrifice his own life to make one last, defiant assertion of his superiority.”

Kirk suddenly went quiet after stating those words, which obviously forced him to look back on the events of the past year – events that no doubt continued to weigh on him.

“Jim?”  Spock inquired. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Spock,” Kirk answered, seeming to snap out of the trance he had fallen into.  “This discussion has brought forth some interesting observations for me.”

“My handling of the Khan affair came with a great cost to me personally,” Kirk continued, “It cost me my friend…my son…and my soul, but at least I can take solace in one important factor.”

“And what is that, Captain?”

Kirk stood and placed his hand softly on Spock’s shoulder.  “At least I got one of them back.”  He smiled at his friend, then turned and walked out of the room, his steps a little heavier than when he first arrived.

Spock sat quietly at his terminal for a few moments, contemplating his friend’s words.  He glanced at the monitor and saw Jonathan Archer’s star log detailing the events of Cordonnia IV, complete with select photographs of the carnage, and a portrait photo of Endion Praius, which seemed to glare at him.  Contrary to Praius’s wishes, the Federation would indeed assimilate Cordonnia IV, and the planet had enjoyed a quiet and peaceful existence since then.

Rising from his chair, Spock turned off the monitor, and returned to his mat on the floor to meditate, his concentration refocused and back in line.

 

 

 

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A Matter of Perspective

  

A Matter of Perspective

  

I

 

            Lieutenant Commander Data sat quietly in his quarters considering the events that had befallen him.  In reviewing his databanks, Data purposely left his emotion chip on, so that he could feel the emotions that accompanied the appalling images that his positronic brain had recorded from Thantos III. 

            Strange, Data thought as he analyzed the disturbing pictures once more.   He wanted to identify the precise emotion he felt as he examined the first images of his away mission that he had originally viewed with horror.

            Or shock.  Yes, that was it, Data reminded himself.  His databank dictionary provided several definitions of shock, and the one that best identified what he was feeling stated that it was “A sudden and severe agitation of the mind or emotions, as in horror or great sorrow.”   Indeed, Data concluded, if shock accompanied horror, then what he felt on Thantos III was definitely shock.

            Yet Data was not at all satisfied with the results of his analysis thus far.  Since reinstalling his emotion chip a few years ago, he had mastered dozens of human emotions like happiness, anger, sadness, and anxiety.  He had handled fear, for instance, when the saucer section of the Enterprise-D burned through the atmosphere of Veridian III and crash landed on the rocky terrain that could have split the entire ship in two.  He even dealt with terror on board the Enterprise-E when he and his colleagues desperately tried to fend off the Borg Queen’s invasion of the ship during her attempt to change Earth’s history.  But what he felt right now, Data wasn’t certain. 

            Data transferred his attention from one disturbing image to another.  As he reexamined the chronology of events before and after the discovery at Thantos III, he couldn’t quite pinpoint this new emotion he was feeling.  The events that had transpired immediately after the Thantos discovery were in themselves shocking enough, but shock was no longer the right word.  One thing was certain, the Federation’s war with the Dominion provided Data with plenty of new sensations to experience.  By far the most complex of these “war emotions” (as Counselor Troi labeled them) was the one he was feeling right now – it seemed to be a combination of terror, anger, and disgust.

            Just then, Data’s positronic brain postulated a phrase for the emotion he was currently feeling.

            Hatred.

            Curious, Data thought as he pondered the possibility that an artificial life form could hate anything.  With that concept in mind, he recalled the Thantos III file from his databanks and once again reviewed its distressing contents from the beginning.

 

II

 

            The Enterprise-E glistened from the purple starlight of the Velcos Nebula, ten light years away from the liberated Betazed system.  The newly formed Federation, Klingon, and Romulan Alliance pounded back Dominion and Cardassian warships from their brief internment of the planet Betazed, and the Alliance, led by the revenge hungry Romulans, pressed further into Dominion-controlled territory.  Both the Klingons and Romulans agreed to allow the Federation’s Flagship to temporarily monitor the area in the event of a rejuvenated Dominion strike.

            A beeping noise from the communications relay broke the productive silence on the bridge.  The quickness of the beeps caught everyone’s attention – this was an encrypted message from Starfleet Command. 

            “The message is marked urgent.” Data informed his Captain.

            “Thank-you, Mr. Data.  Place it on screen.”  Picard chose to take the message on the bridge in the presence of his senior officers, rather than waste time briefing them later.  In wartime, every precious second counted.

            The holoscreen presented the larger than life image of Admiral Lucius Nebiev, a robust gentleman in his early 60s.   Picard saluted him but could tell from the serious expression on the admiral’s face that he was all business.

            “Thank-you Captain.” Nibiev wasted no time getting to the point. “As you already know, with the Romulans now assisting us in the war effort, we are beginning to make some very real gains in this conflict, particularly in reclaiming those regions within the Alpha Quadrant that the Dominion ripped away from us early in the war.”  Picard nodded in agreement – the Enterprise herself had participated in some of these altercations.

            “As a result of the decisive success of our recent campaigns,” Nebiev continued, “the Dominion is finding itself being shoved out of our space abruptly and unexpectedly.”  Nibiev’s face then assumed a sour look.   “A Federation scoutship, the Andromeda, has stumbled upon a secret Dominion installation on Thantos III – a relatively obscure and uninhabited Class-L planet just on the outer fringes of the Regalia System.”

            “What sort of installation would the Dominion have constructed so deep into Federation Space?”  Picard wondered aloud. 

            “We may have stumbled upon a significant intelligence find,” Nibiev continued, ignoring Picard’s question.  “Preliminary reports from the Andromeda have informed us that there is technical equipment within the installation itself, and a difficult…mess.”   

            Nibiev sparked Picard’s curiosity. “What exactly happened on Thantos III, Admiral?”

            “That’s what I need you to tell me, Captain.  The crew of the Andromeda is unqualified and undermanned to handle the situation.  Starfleet Command would like your people to take over the investigation and provide the Alliance with a full-scale analysis of the material.”    

            “And just what is at the site, Admiral?”  It was Commander Riker who queried this time.

            “That information is classified, Commander.” Nibiev chose his words carefully. “Officers from the Andromeda are standing by at the site awaiting your arrival.  They are currently recording the…environment in which you will conduct your investigation.  Their orders are to assist your away team any way they can.  Good luck, Jean-Luc.  Nibiev out.”

            With the abrupt termination of the message, Picard shrugged his shoulders.  Given the stress the Dominion War had brought upon his crew in recent months, he preferred to keep the atmosphere on his bridge as positive as possible.

            “Very well, then.  Commander Riker, prepare your away team.  Mr. Data set a course for the Regalia System.  Maximum Warp.”  He returned to the Captain’s chair, curious of just what sort of ‘mess’ they were going to find on Thantos III.             

 

III

 

            The away team of Riker, Dr. Crusher, Nurse Ogawa, and Data beamed down onto the flat, clay surface underneath the rusty sky of Thantos III as soon as the Enterprise made contact with the Andromeda inside the planet’s orbit.  The second her feet materialized onto the red clay, Dr. Crusher scanned the planet’s oxygen content with her medical tricorder.  

            “The air is dry.”  Riker immediately acknowledged the burning sensation that went up his nostrils.

            “The oxygen level is low.” Dr. Crusher confirmed what the Enterprise sensors had already told them about the planet’s atmosphere. “This planet is infested with a lot of volcanic activity, which eats up a good portion of the oxygen.  There is certainly not enough to support a large population of humans or animals.  We’ll be fine so long as we don’t stay here any longer than a week.”

            “Considering what Admiral Nibiev has told us,” Riker replied, “I don’t want to stay here any longer than a day, Doctor.”

            Riker’s comment caused Data to feel a wave of anxiety.  

            “The Dominion camp is the rectangular installation to the East,” Data pointed.  He found that taking initiative in situations worked to reduce his nervousness.  Counselor Troi confirmed this observation.    

            The away team made their way to the Dominion Installation – a dull-gray, makeshift structure with metal siding.  The building appeared to be evacuated. 

            “I cannot detect any power emissions from the building.”   Data replied, looking for any abnormal readings from his tricorder.  “It appears to be abandoned.” 

            “There are tracks all over the place.”  Riker observed, walking around the building to examine what looked to be dozens of separate imprints.  The indentations extended all the way around the structure, as though a large group of people did nothing but walk back and forth around the belt, day in, day out.         

            Dr. Crusher confirmed the obvious.  “These are Jem’ Hadar footprints.”

            “Standard Jem’ Hadar occupation procedure calls for at least nine soldiers to protect the perimiter of a Dominion occupied installation.”  Data surmised.  “Commander, I believe this installation was a Jem’ Hadar base camp.” 

            “Why build this camp here, in the middle of nowhere?” Riker pondered. “And what the hell could they possibly be protecting?”

            “Hello Commander,” a voice called out from an inconspicuous opening in the front of the structure.  Riker turned to see two Starfleet Officers, dressed in the standard grey-shouldered uniforms, emerge from the entranceway  – one was a tall, trim lieutenant with reddish, thinning hair and the other a medical officer, whose boyish looks and nervous face gave him the appearance of an inexperienced cadet.    

            “Lieutenant Galloway, Nurse Mcknight,” Riker nodded to the two Andromeda officers sent to investigate the building.  “Do you mind telling us what’s going on here?”

            Lieutenant Galloway shook hands with Riker.  “The place is abandoned, Commander.  All of the lighting and energy cells have been stripped.  Most of the technical equipment has been taken, and the few pieces that remain have been blasted beyond repair.”

            “What else is inside?”

            Galloway paused for a moment.  “May I ask what your orders are here, Commander?”

            The question caught Riker off guard.  “Our orders are to find out what exactly is in this installation, and to report that information directly to Starfleet Command.”

            “I can assure you that the crew of the Andromeda is more than capable of analyzing our discovery…”

            “This is not the time to be worried about promotions, Lieutenant,” Riker barked.  “You have a five man crew onboard the Andromeda and limited equipment and expertise…”

            “Well, Commander, I disagree with your assessment of…”   

            “We are at war, Lieutenant.” Riker’s voice was laced with impatience.  “We are acting on direct orders from Admiral Nibiev.  If you have a grievance, share it with him.  Now if you’d kindly follow your orders and escort us into the facility.”

            “Alright,” Galloway held up his hands, knowing not to push the higher-ranking Riker any further.  “Come this way.”

            The exchange struck Data as peculiar.  After all, it was Captain Pannaris, the commanding officer of the Andromeda, who contacted Starfleet about the discovery.   And Commander Riker was right – what could the scoutship possibly hope to accomplish with only five crew members?   The only two members of the crew that could beam down to the surface were Galloway and Mcknight – the other three were needed to keep the ship in orbit.  Data attributed Galloway’s apprehension to the yearning of humans to be recognized for their discoveries.  An interesting ambition.                            

            Galloway led the way to the entrance.  “Two Romulan Warbirds ambushed a Jem’ Hadar warship that was hovering around the Thantos planets during the Alliance’s liberation of Regalia.  Starfleet found it unusual that the Dominion would be active in this region of the system, especially since most of the planets here are Class-L.  So after Regalia was liberated, Intelligence sent us in to conduct surface scans of the moons and planets in the region.  This is what we found.”  Galloway held his hand up to the installation.  He stepped between a wedged-open automatic door, which had the same grayish color as the rest of the structure. When closed, the door was a camouflaged entrance.  

             “Let me caution you, Commander,” McKnight warned. “You may find it unsettling in there.”

            “I appreciate your concern, Nurse.”  Riker replied as he stepped through the entrance.  He and the six officers entered a wide, poorly-lit area, with the only light coming from the entrance, hardly enough to see what lay ahead of them.

            Riker thought he could make out several rows of glass cylinders strewn along the far wall opposite the entranceway.  He ordered the officers to take out their lights.  

            “There appears to be some sort of equipment along the room’s side,” Dr. Crusher spoke, shining her light at several badly smashed pieces of technical equipment.  It all had a definite Dominion look to it, but most of it was blasted beyond repair, most certainly beyond use. 

            “This piece looks familiar…Well, what’s left of it anyways.”  The doctor shone her light on a metallic, cylindrical structure that had been tipped over.  A computer console had been ripped from the base of the tube, leaving only a dangling mass of wire jettisoning onto the floor.  The tube had been tipped over, and lay with it’s underside facing the six Starfleet Officers.  The powdery, white liquid and the thin, transparent tubing that lay around the mess gave Crusher the clue she needed to identify the contraption.

            “What is it?” Riker asked.

            “It’s an enzymatic conditioning tank.” Crusher knelt down to analyze the powder with her tricorder.  “And this chalk-like liquid is ketracel-white, which was being stored in the tank.”

            “Ketracel-White?”  Lieutenant Galloway asked.

            “Ketrecel-White is the isogenic enzyme used by the Dominion to keep the Jem’ Hadar chemically dependent.”  Data cut in.  “The Founders genetically manipulated Jem’ Hadar physiology so that they would require a steady supply of the enzyme.  If the Jem’ Hadar do not receive the enzyme within a specified period of time, they suffer physical and mental anguish which, if left untreated, ultimately leads to death.”

            “Your knowledge of Jem’ Hadar physiology seems to be quite detailed, Commander Data,” Nurse Mcknight replied.  “I would be honored to discuss the specifics of that particular topic with you in the future.”

            “I would enjoy that discussion as well, Nurse,” Data answered.  

            “This container contains insulation.” Crusher interrupted, inspecting the cylinder further. “Ketrecel-white needs to be kept at a stable temperature in order to synthesize properly.”  She turned to look at Riker.  “Will, I don’t believe the Dominion were just storing ketrecel-white here, I believe they were manufacturing it.”

            “Why the hell would the Dominion manufacture ketrecel-white out here?” Riker asked.

            “The climatic conditions on the planet would be ideal.” Crusher surmised.  “What I don’t understand is why the Dominion would go to the trouble to establish a manufacturing plant here, in the middle of nowhere, on the most obscure planet in the Alpha Quadrant.  Surely they would be able to mimic the environmental conditions necessary to produce the enzyme on their own ships.”

            “It is likely that the Dominion was using this camp for another purpose as well.” Data said.  “It is quite possible that whatever this purpose was, they wanted to keep it a secret from certain factions within the Dominion itself.”

            “Synthesizing Ketracel-White hardly seems like a top-secret operation.” Riker replied.  “My suggestion is that we find out what this ‘other’ purpose was and find it immediately.”    

            “The answers you’re looking for are behind you, Commander,” Galloway said, pointing in the direction of the glass cylinders Riker thought he saw at the back of the room.  When the officers turned they faced a wall of pitch-black darkness, yet they could make out vague bumps that ran along the ground.  Everything became clear when Data and Nurse Ogawa shined their flashlights onto the floor

            “What do you me-” Riker stopped in mid-sentence.  A look of dread conquered his face once he fathomed what he saw.  To his left, Dr. Crusher stood motionless.  She hadn’t expected this, nor had Nurse Ogawa, who dropped her flashlight, uttering a gasp that pierced the silence that had overtaken the room.

            Bodies. 

            Dozens of Jem ‘Hadar bodies laying side by side, spread out systematically over the installation floor.  The air of Thantos III had masked the scent, but now that his light shone directly at the bodies, Riker could smell the decay that permeated the building.

            “What the hell happened here?”  He spoke, the shock apparent in his tone. 

            “We’re not sure.” McKnight said.  “This was how we found them.  The Andromeda sensors detected faint life signs on the surface during our initial scan.  Right now our thoughts are that the Romulans or Klingons landed a garrison on the planet, rounded up the Jem’ Hadar patrol, destroyed their ketrecel-white supply, and then – ”

            “The Romulans or Klingons wouldn’t have done this without the Federation’s knowledge.”  Riker interrupted. 

            “How can you be sure, Commander?”  Galloway said.

            “Because we’re not killers, Lieutenant.  Ours is a defensive alliance.  We do not terminate with extreme prejudice.  You, as a Starfleet Officer, should know that.”

            “Perhaps the Federation doesn’t act with extreme prejudice,” Galloway said, “But just how much do we know about our allies, Commander?  The Romulans are a cunning, ruthless people and the Klingons are a vengeful, barbaric race.  It is not beyond either of them to carry out such a monstrosity.”

            “Look Lieutenant, we are not in a position to start accusing our allies…”

            As the argument between Riker and Galloway pressed on, Crusher’s medical inclinations took over and she began scanning the bodies with her tricorder.  “Nurse Mcknight, you mentioned that you detected life signs?”

            “The Andromeda’s sensors detected faint life signs,” McKnight said, “but my own preliminary ground scan didn’t detect anything.” 

            “Alyssa, look for larger algorithms when scanning the bodies,” Crusher instructed Nurse Ogawa.  “Jem’ Hadar have a different physical structure than humans.  Some of them may be in isogenic shock, their metabolisms trying to compensate for a lack of White.    There may be a chance we can revive some of them.  Data, I need you to…Data, are you listening to me?” 

            Data stood paralyzed, processing the carnage and experiencing the wave of sensations that his chip emitted – fear and surprise, anguish and horror crashed into him, drowning him in a flood of emotion.   The most appropriate response, he thought, was to gasp the way Nurse Ogawa did, but he couldn’t even do that.  Why was he feeling this way?  He had seen death before, with and without his emotion chip, but never had he seen such a large number of dead, and for no apparent reason.     

            “Do we have any idea what killed them?”  Riker asked, trying to refocus on the matter at hand.                            

“My initial prognosis was that they all died from ketrecel-white deprivation.” McKnight said. “However, after a closer inspection of several of the bodies, I discovered – ”

            “Phaser marks.  Set to kill.” Crusher finished Mcknight’s sentence.  She was scanning what was presumably a Jem’ Hadar male and pointed to a baseball-sized burn that completely scorched the creature’s face, making his facial features indistinguishable. 

            “It appears that only some of them died from a lack of White.” Mcknight said. “Their feeding tubules were literally torn from their necks.  But several more appear to have been executed military style at point blank range.”

            “Now doesn’t that suggest that our ‘honorable’ allies may have done this.”  Galloway directed his comment towards Riker.  “Granted this method of systematic killing is much too efficient and civilized for the Klingons, but the Romulans love to execute war criminals in this manner.”  

            Riker grimaced as he stepped over a body to walk towards Dr. Crusher.

            “Mr. Data, can you identify the caliber of these phaser marks?”  Riker asked as he crouched down to examine the burn.  He looked back at the android, who appeared to be in a trance. “Mr. Data!”  Riker repeated loudly to get his attention.

            “Yes, sir.”  Data replied.  Riker startled him, but the android pushed his emotions aside and started scanning the wound.  Focus on your duty, Data, Counsellor Troi’s voice burst through his positronic matrix.

            “It appears as though the phaser marks are of a Dominion caliber, Commander.”  Data said.  “Jem’ Hadar rifles, to be precise.”

            “Perhaps the Romulans used the Jem’ Hadar rifles to mask their involvement.” Galloway said. 

            “There is no way the Romulans or the Klingons could have landed on this planet without the Federation knowing.”  Riker said.  “And if the Romulans wanted to mask their involvement, why didn’t they destroy the camp altogether?”

            “Look at the bigger picture, Commander.” Galloway said, the frustration evident in his voice.  “Are you trying to tell me you know everything that the Tal Shiar is doing in this war?  After their disastrous failure to attack the Founder’s homeworld in the Omarion Nebula, how can you possibly claim that they would have nothing to do with this massacre.  Mr. Data, can you please talk some sense into your commander…”      

            “Your reasoning of a possible motive for Tal Shiar participation is rational,” Data said, “but I’m afraid I have to concur with Commander Riker.   I see no clear evidence supporting Romulan involvement at the present time.”

            “And I don’t need any “sense” talked into me, Lieutenant.” Riker responded sternly. “You crossing a very thin line -”

            “Dr. Crusher!”  Nurse Ogawa shouted, interrupting Riker’s threat.  She hovered over a Jem’ Hadar body, scanning the creature’s chest. 

            “He’s alive.”  She announced as all five officers were at her side within seconds.   Data recognized the delirium and fear that was pasted on the soldier’s face.

            “Stabilize him,” Dr. Crusher took over.  When she opened his mouth, the creature gagged a foamy substance onto the doctor’s sleeve.   

            “We need to give him some room!”  Crusher said.  Riker beckoned for Data and Galloway to follow him to the back of the room, where Nurse Ogawa’s light reflected off of the glass cylinders that Riker had spotted earlier.

            The officers shone their light onto the cylinders.  They were tall, round, transparent tubules, wide enough to cram two individuals into.  Each tube was filled to the top with a dark gray paste. 

            “I believe these are Jem’ Hadar birthing chambers.”  Data observed.

            “Birthing chambers?”  Riker repeated.  “Then this is a Dominion breeding camp.”

            Data scanned the chambers, then processed the results of the scan. “Commander, before we entered the installation, I estimated that the actual structure measured 250 by 380 square feet.  According to my calculations, the total width from the birthing chambers to the entranceway is only 175 feet.”    

            “Meaning there’s more to this camp than this one room,” Riker said.

            He and Data examined the wall behind the chambers.  Data’s tricorder confirmed their suspicions.

            “Commander, there is a room behind this wall.”

            “Are you sure?” Galloway cut in, surprised at the discovery. 

            Riker shined his light to outline a perforation that revealed a sealed doorway.

            “How can we get through?”  Galloway asked.  “It looks to be an automatic mechanism.   With no power source to the installation, I can’t see how we can get the entrance to open.”

            “Then we’ll have to make our own entrance.”  Riker said, drawing out his phaser. “Commander Data.”

            The two officers carved the outline of the doorway with their phasers, allowing Riker to kick in the frame.

            The three officers entered what appeared to be a laboratory.  A large wall of glass greeted them with the reflection of their flashlamps, blinding them to whatever lay behind it.  Opposite to the wall lay several consoles, each one intact and undamaged, but inaccessible without power to the installation.         

            “This glass wall is composed of a duranium-silicon compound,” Data said, aiming his tricorder at it.  “I cannot scan through it; however, it appears to be transparent.”  He tried to shine his lamp through it.

            “It is.” Galloway said, shining his own light through.  He paused, then added “but I don’t think you’ll like what you’re going to see.”

            Data peered through the wall and turned away as despair and revolt raced through his circuits.  More Jem’ Hadar bodies.  Dozens piled on top of each other as though they were scrap pieces of metal in a shipyard.

            A look of disgust returned to Riker’s face.  “This is a massacre.  How or why this was done I can’t even imagine right now.  One thing is for certain – these soldiers were executed and left here to rot.”   

            “Commander, I do not understand who would do this.  These deaths seem ruthless, and without any clear purpose.”  Data’s voice was shaky.  Hearing raw emotion in the android’s voice still struck Riker as odd, even though Data had been using the chip for three years.

            “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, Mr. Data.” Riker said.  “If we have to examine every single soldier to do it.”

            “Actually, you continue to refer to these Jem’ Hadar as soldiers.” Galloway pointed out. “I’m not sure that’s entirely…accurate.”

            “What do you mean?” Riker asked.

             “Lieutenant Galloway is referring to the physical…abnormalities that these Jem’ Hadar bodies possess,”  Nurse McKnight entered through the makeshift doorway.  “Excuse me for interrupting.  Dr. Crusher has the situation under control with our new…patient.  She has something to show you, Commander Riker.”

            The officers made their way back to Beverly.  “What’s his status, Doctor?” Riker asked. “Can he speak?”

            “No…” Dr. Crusher answered, “Will, this Jem’ Hadar has no vocal cords, or the Jem’ Hadar equivalent of them anyways.”

            “What?”  Riker asked, confused.  Then he looked down at the creature’s feet, and realized it had none of those either.  Two dark grey bulbs were all that existed where his feet should have been.

            “I’ve never seen anything like this, Will.”  Crusher said. “This…person can’t be more than two days old according to my tricorder readings.”

            “That’s impossible,” Riker insisted, “he’s a full grown Jem’ Hadar male.  Normal Jem’ Hadar don’t reach that level of development until they’re at least three days old.”

            “Take a closer look around you, Sir,” Nurse McKnight spoke up from behind Riker, “the corpses lying around here are hardly what you’d call ‘normal’ Jem’ Hadar.”

            Riker, Data, and Ogawa shined their lamps at the bodies around them.  McKnight was correct.  Having adjusted to the initial shock of looking at so many dead Jem’ Hadar, it was as though the Enterprise crew members were actually seeing bodies for the first time.  Some of the Jem’Hadar bodies were exceptionally tiny – almost dwarf size, while others had grotesquely misshapen hands, arms, and legs.  One bare-chested corpse had a second head, long since decayed, protruding from the middle of his chest.

            The disturbing sights struck Data hard.  He wanted to shut off his emotion chip right then.  But looking at Nurse Ogawa, he saw that she too was upset.  No, Data thought, I must experience these emotions – his databanks pulled up the file from a recent session with Counsellor Troi, in which she told him not to turn off his emotion chip every instant that he felt grief, fear, or anger.  Part of being human was to deal with these feelings, and to know that you can’t simply switch them off.

            Riker stood stone-faced as he contemplated what these creatures went through.  They weren’t exactly the enemy, though they were intended to be.  Regardless, Riker knew these Jem’ Hadar deserved a far better fate than the one they received.

           “They’re the “residuum” of the Dominion.”  McKnight finished.  “They would never have been able to serve the Founders.” 

            “That doesn’t excuse genocide, Nurse.”  Riker replied.  “Mr. Data, your thoughts.”

            “Intelligence reports have speculated that the Dominion has been experimenting in the creation of a new, stronger breed of Jem’ Hadar.”  Data offered, trying to continue with his duty.  “A breed that more suited to combat Alpha Quadrant opponents, and one that is capable of fully maturing in a day’s time.  Perhaps this camp was a place to conduct such experiments.”

            “It makes sense.”  Crusher added.  “The Founders would prefer to conduct the research in a secret, isolated area, far away from regular Jem’ Hadar soldiers who, if they were to find out, would be suspicious and resentful.” 

            “It is likely that the unfortunate creatures lying around us were the victims of unregulated genetic experiments.”  Data explained.  “Within the Federation, genetic engineering has been known to produce serious deformities in test subjects.”

            “Obviously the Founders are no better at it than we are,” Crusher said with disgust.

            “Typical Dominion scheming,” Riker said.  “Always trying to gain the upper hand through manipulation.  Build your breeding facility in occupied enemy territory, carry out secret experiments to improve an already deadly killing machine, and obliterate all of the results that don’t meet your objective.”

            Riker’s words silenced the room, but the quiet was short-lived when a communications signal startled everyone.  Picard’s voice followed, requesting a report from Commander Riker.

            Riker sighed, not sure how to even begin to explain this to his captain.

 

IV

 

            Riker stood in the corner of the installation; his hand stroking his beard.  The situation had escalated into something far more serious than he anticipated, and now even threatened the Federation’s war effort.  It had been two hours since he summarized his findings to Captain Picard, who in turn relayed them to Starfleet Command.  Against Picard’s wishes, Starfleet relayed the story to their Romulan and Klingon allies, and mentioned Lieutenant Galloway’s theory of Romulan responsibility.    Picard explained that the Romulan Star Council admitted that the Tal Shiar knew about the Dominion activity on Thantos III and that the Council diverted two Warbirds to investigate the claims during the liberation of Regalia; however, the Council insisted that Romulan forces did not land on the surface.  Instead, they pursued the Jem’ Hadar warship away from the planet, believing there to be at least three Founders in the contingent that operated the station.  The Council denounced the accusation that they carried out the massacre, stating that in the spirit of Alliance cooperation, the Romulan military contacted Starfleet to investigate the installation because the planet was in Federation space.  To Riker’s dismay, the Council then announced they were sending a Warbird to the planet to conduct their own investigation.

            “The Romulans are coming here?”  Lieutenant Galloway asked nervously. 

            Riker informed the five officers of the developments, and was looking for any suggestions.  Admiral Nibiev ordered both the Enterprise and the Andromeda to send no more officers to the planet’s surface until the Romulan investigators had time to explore the installation in its current state.  Despite adamant protests from Dr. Crusher, Nibiev would not even allow the doctor to beam her patient to the Enterprise for observation.  Everything was to be left as it was found. 

            “This is ridiculous,” Galloway said. “We have to sit here with all of these bodies just because the Romulans have to play detective.”

            “I should point out, Lieutenant,” Data said, “that Romulan participation in the war effort has worked to significantly shift the course of the war into the Federation’s favour.  To jeopardize the Alliance by being unaccommodating to the Romulans would be unwise.”         “We need to gather more evidence,” Riker said, “something that will indicate to us just who is responsible for these killings.” 

            “Will,” Dr. Crusher spoke up, signaling for Ogawa to take over the monitoring of the lone Jem’ Hadar survivor.  “We haven’t examined the bodies in that glass prison.”

            “We’ve looked through the glass, Doctor.” Nurse McKnight interrupted. “My guess is that the Jem’ Hadar in there died the same way that the ones out here did – phaser fire, point blank range.”

            “But why is there no opening to the prison?” Crusher asked.  “And how could the Romulans, the Dominion, or anyone else for that matter, have simply executed the Jem’ Hadar in such an enclosed space with phasers?” 

            “I have analyzed the structure of the glass.” Data said. “It is composed of transparent duranium-silicon compounds.  The average human or Jem’ Hadar would not be able to garner the necessary velocity to break the glass.”

            “But your average android could.”  Riker smiled.

            “I believe that I could indeed accumulate the sufficient velocity necessary to-”

            “Thank-you, Mr. Data.”  Riker interrupted before Data got too carried away.  “Dr. Crusher’s right.  We need to get through that glass and analyze those bodies-”

            “Commander Riker, I adamantly object!” Lieutenant Galloway said, showing no hesitation in cutting off his superior officer. “We have our orders to leave this sight as is until the Romulans get here.”

            “I’m well aware of our orders, Lieutenant,” Riker shot back, “but I’m not about to jeopardize our relations with the Romulans any more than we have already.  I’m not convinced that the Romulans are responsible for this attack, and I intend to prove that before they get here!”

            “I’m seconding that motion.” Dr. Crusher added. “The sooner I can get off this planet and give my patient proper medical care the better.” 

            “Mr. Data.”  Riker said with a nod, signaling Data to walk towards the glass.  Data followed.  Over the past couple of hours, he had grown attached to the Jem’ Hadar survivor and felt a great deal of compassion for its plight.  To get that poor creature off of this planet as soon as possible, the better, even if it meant breaking orders.  Data was quite pleased with the decision he was making – it was the human thing to do.

            Taking several steps away from the glass prison, Data prepared to ram the glass wall at a speed adequate enough to break through it – his positronic brain took a few moments to make the necessary calculations. 

            “Commander Riker,” Galloway persisted, “I would like to go on record stating my objection.”

            “Objection noted.” Riker said, in effect ignoring Galloway altogether.  “Proceed.  Mr. Data”   

            At Riker’s prompting, Data lunged forward like a panther, ramming himself through the duranium-silicon glass, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

            Crusher followed Data into the prison cell after all of the glass landed on the ground, and immediately began scanning the pile of bodies with her medical tricorder.  Riker and McKnight followed behind her.  Lieutenant Galloway stayed behind with Nurse Ogawa, who was monitoring their only surviving patient.

            Crusher stared at her readings for a moment.  “Judging from my preliminary scans these Jem’ Hadar show no signs of phaser burns…they were poisoned.”

            “Poisoned?” Riker asked.  He took a look at the bodies at his feet.  This group of Jem ‘Hadar had a pinkish tinge to their faces.  Riker immediately shined his light to the roof of the cage, and saw several small tubes hanging from the ceiling.

            “‘Gassed’ would be more accurate, Commander.”  McKnight added, shining his own light onto the roof where several ventilation ducts could be seen.  “The tubes must spray the gas, while the ducts fumigate the cage and release the vapors into the atmosphere.”

            Next to each duct on the roof was a long, rectangular grid screen.  Data quickly identified the screens as Dominion transporters.  Looking at the floor of the cage, Riker and Data realized that the whole room was one, big transporter deck.

            “That was how they got these Jem’ Hadar invalids in here,” McKnight said. “I’m certain that several of them, including our patient, couldn’t walk.”

            “This room is an extermination center,” Riker put it all together, “and this building is a top secret genetic laboratory.  The Dominion chose Thantos III for this site because it was isolated, and far away from Dominion space.  It would prevent the Gamma Quadrant Jem’ Hadar – the Jem’ Hadar that we are familiar with – from getting suspicious about experiments that would replace their kind with this newer breed of Jem’ Hadar.” 

            “The evidence certainly supports your theory, Commander,” Data continued. “The Dominion likely did not foresee the Romulans entering the war so quickly against them.  This room served as an extermination center for the experimental breeds of Jem’ Hadar that did not…gestate properly.”

            “A convenient way to dispose of the bodies would be in one of the volcanoes on the planet.”  Riker hesitated, his grim realization making him more angry.  “But when the Romulans joined the war effort and attacked the orbiting warship, the Dominion had no choice but to abandon this camp and to ‘terminate’ its…experiments as quickly, brutally, and thoroughly as possible.” 

            “But they couldn’t even do that fast enough, and wound up having to leave most of the bodies here because the Romulans were hot on their tails.”  Crusher added.

            “Thereby making it quite convenient to accuse the Romulans of carrying out these atrocities,” Data finished, then paused as a connecting thought struck him, “but assuming that is so, then we would have to conclude that the Dominion would not yet be finished here-”

            “Now that’s an interesting theory, Mr. Data,” Galloway said, “but how do you explain the Jem’Hadar soldiers that were guarding this installation.  Surely they would have caught on to what was going on inside this camp, and challenged the authorities that ran it.”

            “Their chemical dependence on White is the main mechanism for keeping the Jem’ Hadar in line.”  Data answered.  “However, the Jem ’Hadar are also taught to serve the Dominion unconditionally, and are taught at birth to revere–”

            “Oh my God, Will,” Beverly interrupted, as she stared dumbfounded at her tricorder, “there are human bodies underneath this pile.”

            “What!?”  Riker spun around to look at the recordings.  “That’s impossible.  Mr. Data, give me a hand.”

            Together, Riker and Data began clearing off dead Jem’ Hadar bodies from the pile.  Upon reaching the bottom, they saw the backs of two Starfleet officers dressed in grey shouldered Starfleet uniforms.  One had a yellow commander’s collar and the other had a blue medical collar.  Upon rolling the bodies over, Riker and Data saw the dead faces of Lieutenant Galloway and Nurse McKnight staring up at them.

            “Oh no,” was all Riker could muster before a gold, metallic coil slithered around his neck and catapulted him viciously against the wall, rendering him unconscious.    

            Data spun around and was greeted by another elongated, gold metallic coil, this one extending from Nurse McKnight’s other arm, which wrapped itself around the android’s neck.  Data, however, instantly planted his feet on the ground and wrenched the gold extension, twisting it around.  The android was going to be a lot harder to throw than Commander Riker was.

            “Changelings!”  Dr. Crusher shouted, as she dropped her medical tricorder on the floor and drew her phaser.  She aimed it at Nurse McKnight’s head, as she did so she made it perfectly obvious to the changeling that she had switched the phaser setting from stun to kill.  A very peculiar stalemate now existed.

            “That’ll be all, Dr. Crusher.  Put the weapon down.”  The voice was Lieutenant Galloway’s, the second changeling.  Two of the Founders managed to stay behind in the camp, and ambushed the away team of the Andromeda, killing the Lieutenant and the Nurse and stealing their bodies.  Galloway’s gold right arm was extended ten feet up in the air, holding Nurse Ogawa by the throat – her feet dangling and kicking in mid air.  “Or I’ll snap her neck,”  Galloway finished coldly. 

            Crusher hesitated, but realized it was a hopeless situation.  She was not about to jeopardize the life of her nurse.  Data and the McKnight Changeling were still staring each other down, holding one another in compromising positions.  Crusher looked at the expression on Data’s face – it was one filled with half fright and half resiliency.  Crusher wished she had a remote control so she could deactivate the android’s emotion chip right there.

            “Let him go, Data,” Beverly ordered, her voice filled with the painful awareness that this battle was lost.  She looked over at Riker slumped against the east wall.  More than likely he had a concussion, and would need medical treatment immediately. 

            Data and the Changeling reluctantly let each other go, as Crusher dropped her phaser and kicked it towards McKnight’s feet.  Data did the same with his phaser.  McKnight promptly scooped them up as Galloway tossed Ogawa on the floor at Crusher’s feet.

            “Your communicators also, and Riker’s as well,” McKnight barked, now aiming the phaser at the four officers.

            “‘Very well played, Enterprise.”  Galloway responded.  “You refused to be swayed by our ruse, and your persistent quest for the truth has forced our hand.  But unfortunately your interference with our salvage operation has also sealed the fate of our ‘purification’ center.  ‘Nurse McKnight’ will be activating the self destruct sequence on this camp shortly.”

            “You have no means of escape,” Crusher shot back.

            “In actual fact, we do.” Galloway shape-shifted into the expressionless, tan-coloured Founder that he was. “The Andromeda is quite comfortably in our hands.  The scoutship’s crew of five was rather sloppy in their investigation of our construction.  They were no match for the Founders.  Three of our brothers are on-board the ship right now, taking the form of Captain Pannaris and his crew.   As far as our leaving the orbit of this planet, the Andromeda’s orders were to offer any assistance we can, and then…resume our other duties.  Your Enterprise will assume that we are simply carrying out those orders.” 

Crusher scowled, trying to hide her dismay.

            “Just be thankful we don’t kill you, Doctor,” McKnight cautioned. “We’d prefer your Enterprise to continue to register your four life signs…at least until we make it safely to Dominion space.”

            “I do not understand the rationale behind your purification camp,” Data queried before the changelings disappeared.  He wanted to understand the motivations behind such horrible experiments.

            “We are creating a new breed of life, Mr. Data.” Galloway explained. “The Dominion is trying to better the lifestyles of its Jem’ Hadar servants.  The results of our experiments at this center have contributed to the development of a stronger, healthier Jem’Hadar individual.  We have that obligation to the Jem’ Hadar as the true Founders of their race.  We create their life, and we improve upon it.  These insignificant beings you see before you are merely the necessary by-products of creating better lives for our subjects.  Surely, as a product of human creation, you can appreciate what we are trying to accomplish.”

            “You’re trying to create more efficient killing machines,” Crusher said with obvious spite, “and these unfortunate creatures are ‘merely’ your guinea pigs for doing so.”

            “This discussion is pointless,” McKnight signaled for Galloway to discontinue the argument. “We can never expect humans to comprehend the true will of the Founders.”  He then ordered the Andromeda to beam them aboard, through mental contact with the Great Link so that the Enterprise wouldn’t intercept the transmission.  In his thoughts, McKnight also ordered his comrades to activate the self-destruct sequence of the camp. 

            “You have one minute to get out of this camp,” Galloway informed the officers.  “Our Scoutship is currently informing your Captain that we are leaving.  By the time the camp explodes, our ship will be in warp and well into Dominion territory.  But don’t fret, you will be leaving here with a wealth of intelligence information to tell your Captain…and your Romulan allies.  Far more than we would have liked.  Again, a well-played hand, Enterprise.

            “You butchers,” Crusher hissed at the two changelings.

            “You wouldn’t understand.” McKnight repeated. “You could never understand.” The two Founders instantly faded away in the transporter beam of the Andromeda.  Outside the glass room, the lone Jem’ Hadar survivor’s hand reached up into the air as the beam plucked up his particles as well.

            “No!” Data and Beverly shouted simultaneously, knowing full well the fate that would befall the poor, wretched soul, but it was too late.  The creature faded away forever.  Beverly hoped that the Dominion would at least finish him off painlessly.

            “We’ve got to get the hell out of here,” Beverly ordered Data and Ogawa.  She quickly scooped up her medical equipment and ordered Data to grab Commander Riker.  Within half a minute, the four officers scurried out of the purification camp to their original beam-in point on the planet’s surface.   Thirty seconds later, the entire installation exploded in a huge orange and red fireball.

 

V

 

            Lieutenant Commander Data sat on his couch on board the Enterprise-E, gently scratching the back of his cat Spot.  He had just finished his final session with Counsellor Troi concerning the Thantos III incident and the strange emotion that the incident conjured up within him. 

            Indeed, Counselor Troi had confirmed Data’s suspicions that the odd sensation

he felt about the incident was a form of hatred – a hatred of war, and more particularly, a hatred of the things that war causes combatants on both sides to do, and to become.

            Data had explained to Counselor Troi how the initial terror and shock he felt at the site of the Jem’ Hadar casualties caused him to overlook obvious evidence that clearly implied that the Andromeda officers were Changelings in cognito.  The open hostility that Galloway voiced when Commander Riker wanted to enter the glass prison should have been an obvious indicator that the two Andromeda officers were hiding something.  Were it not for his emotion chip Data knew full well that he would have picked up such clues, and perhaps have saved the life of the lone Jem ‘Hadar survivor.  The utter dismay Data felt at himself for overlooking such glaring facts caused him to ask Counselor Troi if he should deactivate his emotion chip for the remainder of the war.

            “Data,” Troi chose her words carefully, “to understand your feelings, you need to accept them.  Having emotions help define who you are.  You saw horrible things on Thantos III, and your responses to the carnage were normal.  This is a brutal conflict, and you have seen how ruthless certain individuals can be, even to their own people, so what you’re feeling now is defining how you perceive war.”  As an exercise, Troi had Data review from his databanks several of the infamous slaughters in human history – the Holocaust, World War III, and Kodos the Executioner’s massacre of 4000 colonists on Tarsus IV – and to analyze the different emotions each event brought forth inside him.  As he did so, Data experienced a swell of emotion, particularly when he analyzed the expressions of the unfortunate victims of each event: the terrified faces of Jewish mothers standing behind barbed wire cages pleading to be reunited with their children; the anguish of the starving colonists on Tarsus IV, not understanding Kodos’ bizarre theories for selecting them for death.  In viewing these images, Data wondered what it would have been like to have been an allied soldier at the end of WWII who had discovered the Nazi death camps, or to have been the young James T. Kirk, who was forced to witness the executions on Tarsus IV.  It was then that Data came to the sudden conclusion that Counselor Troi hoped he would.

            “Could it be possible, Counselor,” Data queried, “that my ‘hatred’ may be attributed to the senseless suffering of innocent lives, who often have little stake in the conflict, but whose lives and livelihoods are destroyed because of it.”

            “That’s how most humans would see it,” Troi nodded with a smile.  That’s wasn’t quite how she would have worded it, but she could see from the android’s expression that he was beginning to feel better already.     

            Data stood up from his couch and looked out at the stars.  Gently scratching Spot’s neck, Data realized that he did feel powerless in this time of conflict, and there really was very little that he could do to ease the suffering of the thousands of the victims – Federation, Klingon, and Jem’ Hadar alike – that this battle affected.  The Jem’ Hadar victims he had seen on Thantos III were the epitome of the torment that this conflict had brought about on so many individuals.  As he looked down at Spot, Data now understood the real tragedy of war – the effect of the hostilities on the innocent.   And now that he understood it, he also understood that he absolutely hated that aspect of it.       

            Looking out at the stars, Data hoped that the Dominion war would end, and soon.          

 

 

 

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The Case of the Tarnished Scepter

 

 

The Case of the Tarnished Scepter

 

 

Stardate 57647.36

January 16, 2380 – 5:00 PM

 

 

            Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge sat quietly in his quarters on board the Enterprise-E, reviewing his evening correspondence.  Among his messages was a request from the Captain to schedule shore leave, two invitations to Starfleet functions, even a message from his father to come home for a family get-together.  Geordi scanned through them all, but didn’t respond to any of them.  He still found it difficult to find contentment in his life, the gaping hole in his heart remained. 

            The soft hum of the doorway chime broke the silence.  He knew who it was – the visitor appeared at the same time every night, though the visits did little to ease Geordi’s pain.  If anything, they were a vivid reminder of the best friend he had lost. 

            “Come in, B-4,” Geordi answered, spinning his chair to the doorway.

            The android sauntered into the room.  Its movements were still clunky, awkward.  It wasn’t B-4’s fault that he was an exact, albeit clumsier, replica of Data – much of the android’s past remained a puzzle.  A mysterious prototype of Dr. Soong’s that had been discovered on the planet Kolarus III in pieces, B-4 had been trying for the past few months to find a place onboard the Enterprise, struggling to adapt to life amongst a crew of humans.  It was a struggle Geordi found familiar, though B-4 remained a much slower “learner” than Data, despite having all of Data’s memories downloaded into his system. 

            “What can I help you with today?”  Geordi smiled.  As hard as it was to be around the android, Geordi felt an obligation to help B-4 along, and befriend him in much the same way he did with Data, so many years ago. 

            “Commander La Forge, I understand you are familiar with the fictional character Sherlock Holmes.”  B-4 remained formal and to the point in his daily visits with Geordi – the android had not yet learned the finer points of casual, human conversation that Data had finally started to master.

            “That’s right, B-4,” Geordi replied, “Commander Data and I recreated many of Holmes’s adventures on the holodeck.  It was a…hobby of ours.” 

            “Curious,” B-4 appeared to be analyzing more internal information, “my brother appears to have read all of the original Holmes stories, and carries various images of your experiences together in the holodeck.  There are, however, several titles in his databank that do not correspond to the original works written by Dr. Conan Doyle, the author of the Sherlock Holmes series…”

            “I can explain that,” Geordi cut him off, recognizing the android’s tendency to over explain things, “there were several ‘adventures’ that Commander Barclay and I created for the holodeck that were intended to give Commander Data…more of a challenge.” 

            “I understand,” B-4 paused.  “Commander La Forge, I would like to review these particular versions at my own leisure.  Do you have any of the original programs?”

            “I do,” Geordi turned and opened the bottom drawer of his desk.  Filed in a dual rack were backup copies of all the Holmes adventures he and Data had carried out over the years, except, for obvious reasons, the Moriarty programs.  On the left side of the rack were the original Holmes adventures that Data breezed through.  On the right were the newer adaptations, designed to force Data to conjure up his own unique solutions to mysteries outside of the Conan Doyle stories.  The collection stirred up a well of memories for Geordi, who paused to consider the files. 

            “Tell you what B-4,” Geordi flipped through the copies, “this collection means a lot to me.  I’ll give them to you one at a time, you can start with…here it is, this one.”

            The android took the program file and read the title.  “The Case of the Tarnished Scepter.”  He rose from his chair – B-4’s equivalent of excitement, Geordi supposed.  “I will access the program synopsis of this file and return it to you at 7:00 hours.”  The android turned to the doorway, paused, and added the phrase “Thank-you,” before he exited the suite, as if an internal program had reminded him to do so.

            Geordi smiled at the android’s curiosity.  He neglected to mention to B-4 that the entire collection of Holmes files were available in the holodeck for he and the android to experience firsthand, but Geordi didn’t feel ready for that just yet.  He was glad that B-4 brought up the Holmes programs, however, for they stirred up a swell of memories that he and Data shared. 

            The actual disc he had given B-4 didn’t matter much, Geordi realized, leaning back in his chair. The Case of the Tarnished Scepter was as fresh in his mind as it was during the three-day period that he and Data carried it out.             

 

***

Day 1

September 26, 1886

            Sherlock Holmes reclined in the red, padded chair next to his fireplace, staring at the stacks of paper he carefully laid out on the coffee table.  He was dressed in his regalia deerstalker cap and plaid overcoat, a tad overdressed for an evening in front of the fire, but he insisted on immersing himself in the ambience of his character.

            He set another stack of papers on the coffee table, and tipped it over to spread the loose sheets over the other stacks, creating a very messy appearance.  Just then, Dr. Watson skirted up the stairs with a warm teapot, his eyes widened at the sight of his suddenly unkempt den. 

            “Ah, yes, dear Watson,” Holmes greeted, “I see you have tea ready for our expected guest – an appropriate Victorian custom for company.   Oh, I still see my tea cup.”  He piled more papers onto his table to cover the empty cup. 

            “Computer Freeze Program.”  Watson responded, speaking to his friend as if he had gone crazy.  “Data, what on earth are you doing?” 

            Data looked up at his friend with a hint of surprise.  His Holmes accent was replaced by his normally objective voice.  “I am merely trying to mimic the living conditions experienced by Holmes and Dr. Watson.  Sherlock Holmes was notorious for being messy, often leaving numerous case files lying around his quarters, a trait that Dr. Watson found particularly annoying, given his medical background and preferences for tidiness and sanitization…”

            “Okay, okay, I get it,” Geordi La Forge interrupted his friend, rolling his eyes behind his visor, “but do you have to be so…authentic?”

            Data took a moment to assess the suggestion.  “I suppose we will be having company shortly.  It certainly isn’t Victorian etiquette to greet guests in a cluttered household.  Computer, remove paper files, and resume program.” 

            The mass of paper dissolved into thin air, leaving Holmes and Watson in their empty living room.  Their program resumed with a rap from their front door knocker. 

“Ah yes, Watson.” Data jumped back into character, “Our company has arrived.”

 

***

            “Good evening, Mr. Penniwale,” Data stood in his doorway at 221B Baker Street and greeted the burly man standing at his front step.  “What brings you here all the way from Hyde Park?”

            Penniwale looked surprised, and his rough English accent reflected as much.  “Why, Mr. Holmes, how did you know I came from Hyde Park?”

            “It’s all in the feet, Mr. Penniwale,” Data started, removing the unlit cob pipe from his mouth and using its handle as a pointer, “You see, I noticed that the toe of your shoe contains a crumbly red powder which I recognize as concrete dust laden with clay, a chemical mixture that the city used to refurbish the Park trails in the late 1860s.  But that clue was not decisive enough, as developers also purchased the same type of gravel for Hampstead Heath.  Therefore, I took liberty in noticing that your right shoelace contains a fine-”

            “Uh, Holmes,” Geordi cleared his throat, “perhaps we should see what Mr. Penniwale wants.”

            “Oh yes, indeed,” the android stammered, having recalled Geordi’s constant reminders not to overdo Holmes’ deductive explanations, “please come in, sir.  Would you like some tea?”

            “No, thank-you, Mr. Holmes.”  Penniwale entered the residence.  He was dressed in a gray suit and a black bowler that covered his thinning, red hair.  Once inside, he wanted to get right down to business.  “Oh Mr. Holmes, We require your assistance, sir.  We have a case of blackmail and death threats most foul, and only you can help us.”      

            “Blackmail and death threats!” Data mimicked his idol’s celebrated reactions, “Prey tell, Mr. Penniwale, please begin your interesting narrative.”

            “Well, Mr. Holmes,” the gentleman sighed, “as you already know I am an accountant for the Turington Estate in the West End.  My employer, the widowed Mrs. Audrey Turington, is an heir to her late husband’s fortune.  He was a land developer, you see, and a renowned royal connoisseur to boot.  He was lost at sea, the poor chap, venturing to Arabia for some prized Mesopotamian relics.  His body was never found.  His antique collection is estimated to be in the millions, but as of late, Mrs. Turington has been selling off many of her husband’s artifacts to foreign interests.  She has reaped a delicious profit from the sales, but unfortunately she has also reaped the ire of a raving lunatic – a madman who has harassed her into hoarding the fortune, claiming that her dead husband would never have allowed the collection to be dispersed so quickly.” 

            “I see,” Data inquired, “and I can only assume that the identity of this lunatic is a mystery to you, lest you require my services for some other inexplicable reason.” 

            “You are correct in your assumption, Mr. Holmes,” Penniwale paused, then his voice became gravely quiet, “but most importantly, we now have reason to believe Mrs. Turington’s life is in danger.  She has resumed selling her husband’s relics, this time on the black market, so as to not generate attention.  Much to our dismay, the perpetrator has learned of Mrs. Turington’s secret transactions, and has recommenced his threats, which have become more disturbing by the week.”

            “Curious, Mr. Penniwale,” Data replied, “can you elaborate on the nature of these threats?  Given the anonymity of the threat-maker, I can only assume they are in written form.”

            “Correct you are, Mr. Holmes,” Penniwale reached into his inside pocket and removed a folded piece of paper, “I have the most recent letter here, received just this morning, right before I contacted you.  As you can see, our concerns for the safety of Mrs. Turington are quite well founded.”

            Data opened the letter for he and Geordi to read.  It was neatly hand-written, and surprisingly formal, minus the occasional spelling and grammatical error.

          My Dearest Audrey,                  

          It brakes my heart to learn that you’d sell Mr. Ian ’s antiques to any crimnal in the underground.  Don’t you realize that when you sell his relicks you are selling his soul?  You leave me no choice but to protect that which he loved, because you clearly will not.  I will soon see you in the real underground because that is were you have forced me to send you.

            “It certainly sounds like a threat,” Geordi observed.

            “We’re treating it that way, Dr. Watson,” Penniwale nodded.  “Mrs. Turington is quite distressed over the whole affair, especially given the manner in which the letters have been presented to her.”

            “Presented?”  Geordi asked. 

            “The letters are not delivered through the mail, Dr. Watson, heavens no.” Penniwale’s voice returned to a stark whisper, “They are being left in her mansion, in her cupboards, on her dresser, even on her pillow when she sleeps.”

            “Someone close to her.”  Geordi glanced over to Data.  “Someone working inside the house.”

            “Despite my pleadings,” Penniwale rubbed his temple, “Mrs. Turington does not wish for the police to be involved.  It is only upon my fears for her safety that I have decided to solicit your services in this matter.”

            Geordi glanced at Data and saw the android’s equivalent of excitement.  The mystery portion of Reg Barclay’s newest Holmes holodeck adventure had kicked in.

            “Please Mr. Holmes, I beg of you,” Penniwale said, “can you help us?”   

            Data slapped his arm around Penniwale’s shoulders.  “My dear friend, this case sounds as intriguing as it is perplexing.  Consider yourself to be under the service of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective!” 

***

Day 2

September 27, 1886

            The next morning Holmes and Watson enjoyed a chariot ride into the West End, compliments of Mrs. Audrey Turington.

            The Turington Estate was a white, two-story, stone mansion perched atop a forested hill.  Around the mansion were tall oak trees whose foliage sheltered the masonry from the midday sun.  The chariot traveled up the cobblestone driveway to the front entrance of the mansion where Penniwale and two others stood waiting.

            “Good day Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson,” Penniwale greeted, as the chariot driver escorted them up the walkway.  Standing next to Penniwale was an elderly gentleman dressed in a fashionable gray suit, and a young fellow of Middle Eastern descent, dressed in white, grass-stained gardening overalls.

            “Allow me to introduce Wells, the head butler of the Turington household, and Raoul, our head gardener.”  Penniwale acknowledged the two men at his side, then motioned to the chariot driver, a short man with a flushed face who didn’t speak to Holmes or Watson during the entire journey to the West End.  “You’ve already met Lassiter, the Turington chauffeur – Lassiter, man!  Remove the chariot from the front walkway – you’re blocking the Post from coming in.  Quickly, chap!”       

            Penniwale’s harsh tone with the driver was instantly replaced with a friendly invite for Holmes and Watson.  “Gentlemen, come into the house, won’t you?”

            The solid oak doors of the mansion opened into an elaborate, tile-floored lobby.  Royal banners and suits of armor lined the smooth marble walls, no doubt a sampling of Mr. Turington’s taste for royal memorabilia.

            “Mrs. Turington apologizes for not being here this morn,” Wells the butler spoke in a thick English accent.  “She’s quite dismayed at having received yet another letter, right before breakfast.”

            “Blighty, if I catch whoever’s doing this to Mrs. T.,” Raoul cursed, grinding his left fist into his right hand. 

            “You’ll what?”  Penniwale chastised the young gardener, “sprinkle him with your hose?  Mind yourself, boy!”

            Penniwale turned to Data and Geordi.  “My apologies, Mr. Holmes, for the behavior of our staff.  It appears that yesterday’s letter has sent everyone in a bit of a kafuffle this morn.” 

            “No apologies necessary, sir,” Data replied.  In actual fact, he processed a great deal of information from the interactions he just witnessed.  “Indeed, it is your staff that I came here to interview.”

            “Of course.  We can arrange for these interviews in the lounge,” Penniwale motioned to the adjoining room, then signaled the butler. “Wells will arrange everything.”

            “I’ll summon the staff,” Wells nodded. 

            “No need for that yet,” Data replied. “I’d like to begin with Mr. Wells, himself.”   

            “Interview?”  Wells seemed shocked.  “Me?”

            “Indeed, I require interviews with the entire Turington staff,” Data spoke, sounding more like Data than Holmes, “from senior administration down to casual employees, preferably in that order.”     

            “Preposterous, man,” Wells’s tone was defensive, “I’ve been employed by the Turington family my entire life.  To think that I would be involved in any way-”

            “Mr. Holmes requires interviews with the entire staff.”  Penniwale spoke with an authority that clearly superseded Wells, who was at least twenty years his senior.  “Mrs. Turington is paying Mr. Holmes a handsome salary for his efforts, and she is also paying yours.  Now if you’ll kindly escort Mr. Holmes to the lounge.”

            Wells looked like he bit into a sour lemon.  “Right this way, Mr. Holmes.”   

      ***

            The remainder of the morning was spent interviewing the estate employees, one at a time, in a decorative lounge.  Data asked almost all of the questions, while Geordi jotted down responses in a notepad.  The chief engineer onboard the Enterprise-D had no problems maintaining the warp drive and all its complexities, but when it came to the Holmes case files, he found he needed to write things down to keep up with Data’s train of thought. 

            By the early afternoon, all of the interviews had been conducted.  For the most part, Data and Geordi were well received.  The most difficult interview had been with Wells – the butler proved to be quite argumentative, especially when questioned about security within the household. 

            “I’ve lived here for 35 years, Mr. Holmes,” Wells replied, “every night before retiring I patrol the hallways, and secure the home.  Lately, I’ve been patrolling on a different schedule each night, so that I might capture the culprit unawares.  I can assure you that whomever this scoundrel is, he is working under my auspices, somehow staying one step ahead of me.  But, I’ll catch him one day, and when I do, he will wish he’d never set foot on the Turington Estate!”

            “While it is unadvisable to take the law into your own hands, Mr. Wells,” Data responded, “I commend you for your loyalty to the Turington family.  However, I find it troublesome that our perpetrator is able to adjust so easily to your unpredictable security regiment.”

            “Blimey, Mr. Holmes, you’re nothing what I expected,” Wells snorted, “you talk more like a scientist than a detective.  Whoever this rotter is, he’ll run you in circles so badly your head will spin right off your shoulders.”

            “Spin off my shoulders?”  Data glanced at Geordi with a confused look on his face.   “I can assure you Mr. Wells that the maximum rotation of my neck makes it virtually impossible to -”

            “Uh, Holmes,” Geordi interrupted, “I think Mr. Wells was making an exaggeration.  Perhaps we should proceed with the next interview.”

            Wells shook his head as he exited the lounge. “You are a queer bloke, Mr. Holmes.”   

            The remainder of the interviews were more positive.  Many of the employees had no knowledge of the case details, other than the fact that Mrs. Turington was receiving death threats.  A common theme of each interview was a general dissatisfaction with Mr. Penniwale, whom all of the employees seemed to dislike. 

            “Blimey, he thinks he runs the place,” Raoul, the gardener, complained.  He was a well-built young man, with dark, shiny skin – a direct contrast to his heavily soiled, white overalls.  “Because Mr. Penniwale signs all of our paychecks, he thinks he can treat us any bloody way he wants to.  Thrift, thrift, thrift!”  Raoul mimicked the accountant’s voice.  “You’re wasting seeds, man!  You Arabians never did learn how to farm.  We would do well to kick the Ottomans out of Arabia and teach you people some efficiency!  I swear that’s the way he talks to me, Mr. Holmes, and all the time too.” 

            “Did you ever complain to Mrs. Turington about that?” Geordi asked. 

            Raoul looked sheepish.  “Blimey, we never see Mrs. Turington anymore.  Not since the letters started popping up in the house.  She stays hidden in her bedroom all the time, looking at old artifacts.  I might have mentioned it to her once, but I suspect Mr. Penniwale runs over her with an iron fist as well.”

            “Interesting,” Data noted.  Geordi watched Data process the information – the positrons within his neural net worked busily, analyzing the testimonies so far. 

            The most revealing interview was the one with Lassiter, the coach driver who brought Data and Geordi to the Estate earlier in the morning.  The man appeared quite nervous, and it was clear upon mentioning Penniwale’s name that he was petrified of the accountant. 

            “I do believe Mr. P-Penniwale is a fine employer,” Lassiter stuttered, his face shining bright red, “I like working here, and for Mrs. T.” 

            “When was the last time you drove Mrs. Turington anywhere?”  Data inquired. 

            “I took her to the bank last week.  It was a Wednesday morning.”

            “Did she have anything with her?”

            The driver pointed to a coronation crown and cloak hung on the far wall.   Affixed to the cloak was a silver-plated scepter, its sheen reduced considerably by a conspicuous streak of ingrained, green tarnish that ran along the scepter’s base.  “She had that.” 

            “The scepter.”  Data confirmed.  “It appears to be a traditional Stuart design, from the mid seventeenth century.”

            “Belonged to Charles II, it did.”  Lassiter nodded.  “Right after they restored him as King.  The story has it that his assistant dropped it in the muck, and didn’t clean it properly.  It’s been tarnished ever since.  Mrs. T tol’ me she doesn’t like looking at it, because it looks unkempt.”  Lassiter’s voice dropped to a sharp whisper.  “She brought it to get appraised, only Mr. Penniwale don’t know about it.”

            “Does she intend to sell it?”    Data inquired. 

            Lassiter continued to whisper.  “Yes – she’s about to fetch a nice loot from it, so she says.  But not at the bank, no sir.  On the underground market, to the Turkish buyers – they pay double what the retailers do, so she tells me.” 

            “Curious,” Data replied, “when does Mrs. Turington plan to make her next visit to the underground market?”

            “Tomorrow evening.”  Lassiter admitted, with a look of guilt on his face.  “She’s had me arrange her coach for her.  We’re to meet a man on the East End, in Spitafields, unaware to Mr. Penniwale.  Oh, he’d give us a yellin’ if he found out about it.  I suspect he doesn’t know half of everythin’ that she’s been sellin’ of late.”

            The driver left the room, leaving the two Starfleet Officers to ponder the actions of Mrs. Turington, and her seemingly estranged relationship with Penniwale.  At the end of the day, when the tenth, and final, interview was complete, Geordi leaned back on the couch with his hand on his head. 

            “I don’t know where to go from here.”  The engineer sighed.  “I have no idea who’s guilty.  Are we even on the right track?”

            “Pssshaw, old friend,” Data slapped his partner’s knee in pure Holmes fashion.  “Quite the contrary, this has been a most productive day.  I’ve narrowed down the case file to three suspects, all of whom have ample motive to threaten Mrs. Turington’s life.  The key now is to catch the miscreant in the act, and if my hypothesis bodes correctly, we can apprehend him as early as tomorrow night.  The game, my dear Watson, is afoot.” 

***

Day 3

 September 28, 1886

            The evening fog settled into the narrow, dirt roadway of Folgate Street in the Spitafields in East London.  The occasional carriage trotted past the front windows of The Empire Cafe & Teahouse, where Data and Geordi sat at a small, round table in the front entrance.  While Geordi turned his head at every carriage that passed them, Data sat patiently, waiting for the cafe door to open. 

            “Mr. Holmes, sir!”  The door finally opened and a boy in a plaid cap burst through the door.  He ran straight for Data.  “I spotted the Turington carriage.  It’s around the bend, sir.  They’ll be on Folgate in ’bout two minutes.”

            “Well done, Samuel,” Data gave the boy a handful of computer-generated schillings, “use that money to buy yourself some new school clothes.”

            The boy’s eyes lit up.  “Holy Crumpets, Mr. Holmes, that’s enough money to buy me a whole new school.

            “Good pay for good work,” Data winked at the boy.  “Now run along.” 

            With that, the young Baker Street Irregular charged out of the store with his money, as Data and Geordi rose from the table.  Mrs. Turington was about to arrive. 

            “Watson, you scamper over to that alley across the road,” Data instructed, removing his cap and overcoat.  Underneath his outfit was a peddler’s smock and hood, which he pulled up over his head.  “I will walk along the street and get as close to the transaction as possible, while you try to listen in on their conversation.”                   

They immediately headed outside and got into position – Data darted up the road, timing himself to walk down the street in sync with the Turington carriage, which turned onto the street exactly twenty-six seconds after young Samuel predicted.

            Data kept a few paces behind the carriage, disguised as a peddler.  Geordi remained hidden behind a gateway that led into the alleyway – the carriage stopped about ten feet down from where Geordi sat.  The engineer lost sight of Data, who slowed down once the carriage parked.

            They waited approximately six minutes when a second carriage ventured up the street from the opposite direction.  It pulled over directly in front of the Turington buggy.  His visor having tuned into the approaching cart, Geordi was able to make out a Turkish man in a black fez sitting in the cab.  Mrs. Turington, dressed in a heavy overcoat, approached the cab with Lassiter at her side.  In her right hand she held the tarnished scepter and passed it to the Turkish man through the window.  The man nodded, and flashed a devious grin underneath his bushy mustache.  He handed Mrs. Turington a billfold, which she immediately placed in her purse. 

            It was then that Geordi noticed the Turkish man’s driver, a man he recognized.  Wells had on an excessively large bowler’s cap, which sat over his ears and covered his otherwise noticeable white hair, but his face was unmistakable, even through the faint mist.  Just then, to everyone’s surprise, a masked man bolted around the carriage and yanked the scepter out of the Turkish man’s hands.  Mrs. Turington screamed as the man sprinted past her.  To the perpetrator’s surprise, he was swatted at by Wells, who used his bowler cap to slap at him, distracting him long enough for Geordi to seize the culprit’s right hand. 

            “Well, this was easy enough,” the engineer smiled.

            “Watson, watch out!”  Data replied, running towards them.     

            Before he could register his friend’s warning, the last thing Geordi saw was the scepter swinging in his direction, striking him on the forehead.                  

 

***

            “I h-honestly don’t know what happened,” Reg Barclay stammered, pacing the floor of the Enterprise-D’s sickbay.  “The safety overrides were activated.  The Holodeck safety settings were recalibrated last month.  I r-reset them myself.”

            “Commander Laforge’s injury is not serious,” Dr. Beverly Crusher answered.  Her words were directed to Barclay but her concentration was on closing the cut above Geordi’s right eye, which she was successfully doing with her autosuture.  “You’re lucky he didn’t hit you in the visor, Commander.” 

            “I didn’t expect to get hit at all,” Geordi frowned.  He was still dressed in his Dr. Watson outfit, save except his bowler cap, which apparently fell off after the suspect clobbered him over the head.  The blow was hard enough to knock him unconscious.  As to what happened next, Geordi was able to garner this information from Data, who saw him get hit from the opposite end of the street, and immediately sprinted over to the alley, catching the attention of Wells, Lassiter, and Mrs. Turington.  Data chased the perpetrator through the alley, slowing down only when the masked man tried to strike him with the scepter, which Data easily wrestled away.  Upon seeing that Geordi still lay on the ground, Data closed the program, and summoned an Enterprise medical team, who revived Geordi, then took him to Dr. Crusher for treatment.      

            “M-maybe I should take another look at the safety parameters,” Reg suggested, “The injury setting might be too high.”    

            “Perhaps the problem lie in the programming,” Data posited.  He, too, remained dressed in his regalia Sherlock Holmes outfit.  “Reg, you mentioned that you had the computer construct an original plot based on mysteries from alien cultures, in order to provide me with a challenge outside of the realm of traditional earth storylines.” 

            “Yes, that’s right, Data,” Reg snapped his fingers. 

            “What?”  Geordi turned his head, only to have his head pulled back by Crusher.  “Reg, you told me that the computer based this mystery on a serial ‘Who-done-it?’ tale.”

            “Well, it was sort of,” Reg scratched his head, “but the Earth-based storylines that the computer formulated didn’t seem to have cunning enough villains, so I had it choose a suspect profile from an alien culture.” 

            “Well, which alien culture?”  Geordi asked.

            “Let’s see, I think it was, um… oh yes, Nausicaan.”  Barclay went red, suddenly realizing the connection. 

            “Reg!”  Geordi rolled his eyes underneath his visor. 

            “Sit still, Geordi.”  Crusher snapped.

            “I believe we have found the reason for the violent tendencies of this suspect.”  Data announced.  

            “You think?”  Geordi responded sarcastically.

            Just then, the hum of the sick bay doors signaled a new entrance.  Commander Riker walked into the sickbay and immediately headed for Geordi and Data.

            “Report?”  Riker asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

            “We…uh…had some trouble with a slight…holodeck malfunction, sir.”

            Riker raised his chin suspiciously.  “Commander, I need to know why our chief engineer is sitting in sick bay with a head injury.”

            “I was struck in the head with…”  Geordi paused, not sure how this was going to sound.  “a tarnished scepter.” 

            “A tarnished scepter?”  Riker asked.       

            “If I may, sir,” Data piped in, “it appears we are still experimenting with the physical capabilities of our holodeck characters.  It brings forth a fascinating study on the nature and psychology of holographic programming-”

            “Another Sherlock Holmes case,” Riker cut the android off, then looked quizzically at Geordi.  “This is isn’t going to be another Moriarty thing, is it?”

            “No, sir,” Geordi, Data, and Barclay all responded in unison. 

            Riker smiled coyly at the three officers, then shook his head as he walked away.  “A tarnished scepter.   Captain Picard is going to love this one.”

            As the commander exited the bay, Crusher finished closing the cut, and shut off the autosuture.

            “Your head will be sore for a few hours, but you’ll be fine,” she smirked.  “Just put some ice on it and rest.  No more holodeck for today.  You boys never learn do you?” 

            As she returned to her other patients, the three officers were left staring at one another.

            “Y-you still have the Holodeck booked for another hour,” Reg whispered so the doctor wouldn’t hear.  “That is, if you’re still up to finishing the mystery, Commander.”  

            “Yes, let’s finish it.”  Geordi muttered with conviction as he rubbed his forehead.  “Data, I want you to catch this guy.” 

***

            “Mr. Holmes, please come in,” Penniwale answered the door, flustered as he greeted the two detectives.  “Ah, Dr. Watson, I’m grateful to hear that you’re all right.  That must have been a nasty lump no doubt.”

            “I’m fine,” Geordi grumbled as he and Data entered the Turington mansion.

            “My partner’s noggin may be raw, Mr. Penniwale,” Data said, “but the culprit has made a gargantuan error in delivering that blow.  I would like to conduct a general interview with the entire Turington staff, Mrs. Turington included.”

            “The entire staff?  Why, Mr. Holmes, I can do that but it will take time to round them all up – a good thirty minutes to be sure.  Perhaps while you’re waiting I could interest you and Dr. Watson with a brandy-”

            “Computer, fast forward program thirty minutes,” Geordi barked to the holodeck mainframe. 

            Data looked at Geordi quizzically, as the computer flashed images of different staff members entering the lobby and taking spots against the walls. 

            “My head is raw and sore,” Geordi eyed his counterpart, “and I’m not exactly in the mood for brandy.”

            “I’ll try to close this case for you quickly then,” Data replied, “Based on the information provided to me by Lieutenant Barclay on the suspect’s characterization profile, I have calculated that there is a 93.5% certainly that my hypothesis is correct.”

            “I’m sure it will be,” Geordi sighed, noticing that the bump on his head was beginning to swell up.  He regretted ignoring Crusher’s advice to place some ice on his wound.

            The computer stopped fast-forwarding and the program resumed.  The Turington lobby contained all ten employees, and a very irate Mrs. Turington. 

            “What is the meaning of this?”  Mrs. Turington fumed.  She was dressed in a purple nightgown, and her curly black hair appeared unkempt.  She looked as though she had just woken up.

            “As you know, Madam, we surprised the perpetrator unawares last night, foiling his ambush of your transaction,” Data announced, reaching into the inside pocket of his overcoat and pulling out the scepter.  “You’ll be relieved to note that I successfully recovered your artifact.”  

            “Yes,” Mrs. Turington answered dryly, “quite relieved.” 

            “My first question is for Mr. Wells,” Data continued, “tell me sir what you were doing driving the chariot for the buyer of Mr. Turington’s tarnished scepter.” 

            “I uncovered Mrs. Turington’s plot after quizzing Mr. Lassiter the evening before,” Wells replied, “the little rat confessed everything.  I have some connections in the chariot business, and arranged to be the driver for Mr. al-Suhrawardî for the evening.  My intent, without question, Mr. Holmes, was to ensure Mrs. Turington’s safety.”

            “Hmmmpph,” Mrs. Turington snorted.  She sauntered across the room and slapped Lassiter across the head, sending the limo driver cowering.  “That’s two people you told!  Disgrace on you, Man!”

            “I only feared for your safety, Ma’am.”  Lassiter stuttered. 

            “Now you’d better fear your livelihood.” Penniwale threatened the driver, “How dare you endanger Mrs. Turington’s life by taking her out there.”

            “That would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Penniwale,” Data announced, “as Mr. Lassiter was acting in the interests of the Turington household.  Two people in this room, however, have not been.” 

            A stunned silence blanketed the room. 

            “Well, carry on, Mr. Holmes,” Penniwale motioned to Data, “Who?”

            “Ask Mrs. Turington.”  Data replied in matter-of-fact manner.

            “What?”  Mrs. Turington looked as though she had been slapped in the face.  “What are you implying, Mr. Holmes?”

            “I am merely stating the truth, Mrs. Turington,” Data charged, “that you have been involved in the shameful sale of fake artifacts to Turkish entrepreneurs in an attempt to hoard your husband’s fortune.”

            “How dare you implicate me in such a sinful scandal.”  Mrs. Turington’s voice was sheer ice. 

            “On the contrary, this disgraceful affair has been going on long enough,” Data replied, removing a white rag from his pocket.  “Allow me to demonstrate on the very scepter I seized last night.”  He wiped the scepter’s staff, and held up the rag for everyone to see.  A grayish-green blemish covered the rag – a direct contrast to the suddenly glimmering silver scepter he held in his other hand.

            All eyes in the room fell on Mrs. Turington, whose face turned beat red. 

            “I can ensure you that a two hundred year old stain would not come off so easily,”  Data explained.  “Rather the minimum scrubbing velocity required to remove such an aged stain would be -”  He stopped himself in mid sentence, glancing at Geordi as he did so. 

            “Er, never mind that,” he continued.  “This scepter is clearly a fraud, intended to fool Mr. al-Suhrawardî in the same manner that she has been able to successfully fool the other Turkish buyers she has sold her late husband’s artifacts to.  I can only assume that Mrs. Turington’s greed and duplicity were motivated by a personal resentment harbored toward her late husband, who bequeathed a large portion of his fortune to the staff members, in order to keep the estate running.”

            “It’s true, the man left me with nothing,” Mrs. Turington burst into tears, “I had no choice but to sell off his artifacts, but Mr. Penniwale kept such a tight rein over the antiquities, that I had no choice but to have some fabricated, so I could earn a profit.”     

            “There, there, Audrey,” Penniwale consoled her, then looked at Data.   “How ever did you uncover this plot, Mr. Holmes?”

            “I did so thanks to information provided by the second criminal in this case – the architect of the death threats against Mrs. Turington.”  Data’s replied, tossing the rag directly at the suspect who, in reflex, caught the material with his left hand.  “The culprit I speak of is none other than Raoul, the left-handed gardener of the Turington estate!”

            The young Middle Eastern man sneered at the accusation, amidst a cacophony of gasps from the other employees.     

            “You sneer in a guise of arrogance, Mr. Raoul,” Data replied, pointing the scepter at him, “but I can assure you, the evidence is conclusive.  With this very scepter, I watched you swing at my colleague using your left hand, the same hand that I observed to be your lead hand when we first met.  It is also logical to deduce that a gardener, working on the tall trees directly in front of the estate windows, would have possessed the capability to uncover Mrs. Turington’s plans to sell her husband’s merchandise, and deliver the letters unbeknownst to Wells or the staff.   Moreover, it was you who had erroneously informed me of Mrs. Turington’s actions inside her bedroom – actions an ordinary gardener wouldn’t have known, unless he was spying on the lady…”

            As Data’s long-winded, over-analysis of the case facts rambled on, Geordi noticed the gardener inching closer to the den entranceway. 

            “Data, er Holmes – he’s moving!”  Geordi shouted as the suspect suddenly dashed into the next room, shoving one of the maids as he bumped past them. 

            Geordi bolted into the room after him – normally he would have assisted the young maid first, but his head was throbbing, and it helped to remember that the lady was only a hologram.

            Raoul sprinted through the den, and was about to charge into the adjoining dining room, but the entrance was blocked by a towering Wells, who had cut the young culprit off by taking a back hallway that led into the room. 

            The den quickly crowded up with the remainder of the employees. 

            “We can assume the suspect will act violently,” Data spoke in Geordi’s ear, “we are only in the fourth scene of a seven scene program.  We weren’t scheduled to apprehend the culprit until scene seven.  Given his Nausicaan-based programming, we can also expect him to resist to the death.” 

            “Well, it’s obvious we got the right man.”  Geordi sighed, understanding full well that he and Reg failed, as they always did, in creating a suitable challenge for the android.  Given his aching head, however, it was definitely for the best.  “Let’s go get him.”

            “The Turingtons were evil – both of them!”  Raoul screamed. “They did business with the Turks – the more money they gave them, the more the Ottomans used to oppress my people!”  He spun around and dove for the side window, wrestling it open.  The man moved like a cheetah. 

            With a sense of urgency, Data charged across the room and grabbed the gardener by the collar.  The man flailed wildly, clawing at Data’s face and suit.   With his positronic brain geared for combat mode, Data hurled the man across the room, slamming him against the opposite wall, much to the astonishment of the onlookers.  Raoul lay on the ground, motionless.

            “Uh, well done, Holmes,” Geordi tried to cover, sensing the shock amongst the employees. 

            “What happened?”  Penniwale trudged through the cluster of witnesses that stood at the doorway. 

            “Why, its Mr. Holmes, sir.”  Wells spoke to the accountant.  “The man’s as strong as an ox.  He plum near tossed Raoul right through the wall!”

            Mrs. Turington shuffled into the room and gasped at the site of the young gardener.  “Someone call the doctor, quickly!”   

            “And while you’re at it call Scotland Yard.”  Geordi said.

            “Mr. Holmes, I am quite astonished by your strength,” Penniwale stared at Data with apprehension. 

            “There’s more to this man than meets the eye,” Wells, too, looked dumbfounded.  “I must say, Mr. Holmes, I take back all that I said about your reputation.”

            “Er, sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”  Data seemed sheepish by the wave of comments that came his way – an android’s equivalent of embarrassment, Geordi supposed.  Data had solved the mystery early to accommodate Geordi’s headache, but had acted with too much force when apprehending the culprit.

            “Computer end program – save final solution, filename Data one,” Geordi decided to spare his friend any more awkwardness.  The Turington den and characters disappeared around them, replaced by the neutral black and yellow grid of the holodeck.

            “Congratulations, Data – you did it again,” Geordi sighed, putting his hand on his forehead.  “I’m going to get an icepack.”

 

 ***

Stardate 57647.59

January 16, 2380 – 7:00 PM

            Watching the shimmering bluish hue of the Debloi Nebula, Geordi stared at the interstellar phenomenon that angled directly in front of his window.  Despite its beauty, the engineer’s mind was elsewhere – back once again to a few months earlier, to those brief seconds when he opened the emergency forcefield, allowing Data to charge across open space from the Enterprise-E to the Reman Scimitar, to stop Shinzon from activating the Thalaron beam generator, destroying the Remans and himself in the process.

            Geordi had acted under Data’s orders, of course.  And there was no question that Data’s sacrifice saved the entire crew, and quite possibly Earth itself, from the Reman threat.  But it was so difficult not to play over that moment again and again in his head, wondering if there wasn’t another option available – one that could have preserved Data’s life, and had the same outcome for the Enterprise crew. 

            The hum of his sliding doors broke his train of regret.   There was no need to ask the computer for the time – Geordi knew it was 700 hours on the dot.

            “Come-in, B-4,” Geordi turned away from the window to greet the android.

            B-4 sauntered into the room, carrying the backup copy of the Tarnished Scepter.  He immediately handed it to Geordi.

            “Thank-you, Commander,” B-4 spoke, “I reviewed the basic program synopsis, as well as my brother’s solution file – it appears he had no trouble solving the case.”

            “He certainly didn’t,” Geordi smiled.  “Most of the “trouble” came afterward.” 

            “Afterward?”  B-4 asked.  “I do not understand.”

            “Once Commander Riker found out how Data solved the case so quickly, he began teasing Data about the “outside information” he used to solve it.”

            “Outside information?” B-4 posited, “Are you referring to the information provided by Lieutenant Barclay that Raoul Kharesh’s character file was based on the classic Nausicaan villain O’hred the Deceiver?”

            “Uh…right,” Geordi replied, amazed at the android’s growing penchant for detail.  Geordi himself didn’t even bother remembering the program specifics.  “Anyways, to make a long story short, Commander Riker accused Data of cheating.”

            “Cheating?”  B-4 appeared confused at the notion.  He was trying to process the possibilities the accusation posed.   

            Geordi smiled at the android’s reaction.  It was the exact same reaction Data himself had had when first confronted by Commander Riker with the playful accusation.  The Commander had been curious about how the “tarnished scepter” mystery turned out, and approached Geordi and Data the next day to find out if they solved the case.  

            “I do not believe my brother would have cheated willingly,” B-4 replied, indicating to Geordi that, like Data before him, B-4 would be spending some time analyzing this issue.   “From what I can deduce, he ended the mystery early in response to the complications you suffered from your injury.” 

            “That’s how good a friend he was.”  Geordi nodded.  “Data was becoming more sympathetic – that’s one of the traits of human friendship you and I had talked about.”

            “A curious accusation,” B-4 analyzed, completely ignoring Geordi’s lesson, “I would like to spend some time considering the parameters of this issue, and develop a defense of my brother’s actions.” 

            “Tell you what, B-4.” Geordi sighed, hushing the android toward the doorway.  “Spend a night thinking this issue over.  Meet me at breakfast tomorrow, and we’ll talk all about it.”

            “Perhaps I could relay my defense by subspace message to Commander Riker on board the U.S.S. Titan…”

            “No, not a good idea,” Geordi insisted, shaking his head.  “Remember – breakfast tomorrow 800 hours, okay?”  He ushered B-4 out the door, before the android could reply.

            Geordi turned back to the window and the nebula.  He had wanted to use The Case of the Tarnished Scepter to teach B-4 about the human trait of sympathy- a lesson that no doubt would have fascinated Data.  But B-4 was not Data, a fact Geordi had to constantly remind himself of.  B-4 was still very much objective, wanting to deal with the concrete facts of the universe – he was not ready to delve into, and appreciate, the human psyche.  Neither was Data in the early stages of his existence, Geordi supposed, but like Data, B-4 would learn to grow too.  Geordi would just have to remember to be patient – it was the least he could do to honor his lost friend.   

            Propping his arm against his window, Geordi watched the nebula glimmer in the starlight, smiling at the memories that engulfed him.  

 

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Star Trek: Revelation S1 : E1 Times Destiny Part One

STAR TREK – REVELATION

 

Episode 001 – Times Destiny (Part One)

 

The static, electric child-like voice spoke to him; where it came from was unknown, no one else heard it, only he did, “You must correct the time line.”

“The lady who dies twice will save thousands more.”

“The traitor will become your greatest weapon.”

“You must correct the time line.”

“She must, has and will stand trial, rescue her.”

Images flashed through his mind, a gleaming starship one that was somehow familiar to him and yet so distant.

“The time line must be corrected.”

“The doctor will hunt them all down.”

“The time line must be corrected.”

The starship, battle damaged almost beyond recognition; a distant planet unfamiliar to him, “You must correct the time line to save us.”

“She destroyed your ship but will always help to save it.”

“Your final destiny is to save us!”

Captain Michael Delany suddenly jolted out of his seat. Had he been dreaming that voice, the overlapping voices and the images? Why were they all familiar to him? He looked around the Bridge; it was the Bridge of his ship the USS Merrimac. His crewmembers were on duty. His First Officer Commander Savok, a Vulcan who was an exceptional officer for his logical approach to solving problems and his exceptional strength. Behind him was his Tactical and Second Officer, Lieutenant Commander Meredith Farrar. A human who passed top of her class at the Academy and had yet chosen this assignment. At the Helm was the Andorian Kalar who was one of the most exceptional pilots of his race.

“The time line has been altered, the time line must be corrected,” spoke the voice.

Mike looked around the Bridge. There was no one else present except for the duty officers.

“It is part of your final destiny, the time line must be corrected,” it continued.

“Who’s that?” asked Mike aloud.

Savok turned to look at him, “Are you alright Sir? To whom were you speaking?”

Mike looked at his first officer, “I thought I heard a voice.”

Savok glanced round the Bridge then spoke back to his Captain, “I do not see anyone who is not supposed to be on the Bridge.”

“I’ll just sit down, maybe I got a head rush when I got up too quick.”

“Should I ask Doctor Pel to check you over?”

“That will not be necessary Savok.” Mike sat back down and closed his eyes to clear his head. “Rescue her, the cost will be huge but you must rescue her,” it continued.

An image of a woman appeared in his mind, a brunette with blue eyes, slim face and build. The image started to change, looking gaunt, eyes more sunken; her build a whole lot slimmer, thinner maybe. Why was she important to him? He’d never met her before, yet he knew her, he knew her name…but at this point in time it eluded him. He had once considered her for his First Officer position but opted for Commander Savok, so she must have stayed on her ship. Why was he being shown her? What was it about her?

“Save her to save us,” spoke the voice.

Mike wiped his face with his hands and got up, “Commander, I will be in my Ready room. I need to look over some crew personnel files.”

“Aye sir,” replied Savok taking the centre seat as Mike left for his ready room to do a lot of searching through the Starfleet database.

 

High above the planet Veron Six orbited Starbase Epsilon Piper Four, a backwater retreat for ships on long distance missions. The USS Hetrick was docked at the Station, its personnel on shore leave before their next, crucial mission. Lieutenant Paul Galloway was sat in the Stations bar, drowning his sorrows. He’d recently transferred to the USS Hetrick following the loss of the previous ship that he had been serving on. On that mission, the ship had been destroyed, but the crew did escape in evacuation pods; at least most of the crew had escaped from the encounter with the Romulans. He’d seen his wife’s pod, along with a few others fired upon and destroyed. It was at that point that he had decided that he was going to leave Starfleet, but Captain Beverly Gordon had persuaded him otherwise. Still the loss of Katherine Galloway was too much to take. When he’d seen her pod blown to smithereens, he’d lost the will to live.

The USS Hetrick rescued him, along with another hundred of his crewmates. The Captain had ordered his crew, when they had abandoned ship to go into separate directions for a better chance of survival; yet his wife didn’t survive. No, she was killed and now he was here, in this bar, drinking. He had nothing else to do, nothing to care about. He surveyed the patrons and located a Nausican. They were known as fighters. He was determined to have a fight. Maybe the Nausican would knife and kill him. Then he’d be with his wife. He started his approach to the Nausican; as he got closer it occurred to him that this Nausican was bigger than he’d first thought, ‘Good. This should be over quick’.

He never got the chance to find out though as Lieutenant Scott Hawkins suddenly appeared from nowhere and blocked his path. Scott looked at Paul and then quickly surveyed the situation. Within a matter of seconds, he instantly knew what Paul was up to. “You’re not starting a fight with him. He will pulverize you.”

“That’s the idea,” replied Paul, “You’re not going to stop me this time.”

“Actually, I am. You’re off the ship when you’re supposed to be on duty in Engineering. If I have to take you back to the ship unconscious, then I will. Captain’s orders.”

“You can’t do this,” pleaded Paul.

“Actually, as Chief Tactical Officer I can, and will.” Scott quickly grabbed hold of Paul by his shoulder and spoke, “Energize!” Both of them disappeared in a shimmer of light and rematerialized on the pad in transporter room one on the USS Hetrick. “Ok, you have a few choices, either return to Engineering, accompany me to the Brig or report to the Captain.”  Paul looked at Scott; he could see on his face that he was deadly serious. “You promised me months ago that you would look at this, that if there was a small chance, a remote chance.”

“I’ve studied Romulan tactics ever since I left the Academy. This approach is something new. If I am right, then she is still alive.”

“Have you mentioned this to the Captain?” asked Paul, in the hope that a rescue mission could be set up.

“I’ve served with the Captain since I graduated. She will not risk the ship until we have proof.”

“Do you have proof or is this just a theory you have?”

“I’m still looking into this. I need time.”

Paul looked Scott directly in the eyes. Scott’s arms were crossed, his face unflinching. He stared back at Paul until Paul’s right fist landed Scott flat onto his back,  “You’ve already had two years. I’m off to Engineering.”

Scott sat himself on the edge of the transporter platform, rubbing his face. “Every bleeding time.”

 

Mike was in his Ready room reviewing the personnel files of all the officers that he had considered for the position of First Officer. No, he had no doubts that he had the correct one; he just wanted to find out what had happened to one of the candidates who wanted to be his First Officer. Within a matter of hours, he had located the file. The name seemed familiar but also wrong, he stared at the screen, looking at it. The name read Katherine Galloway.

“That’s not right, it can’t be” he spoke, but there it was on the screen. He cleared his eyes with his hand, and looked at the screen again, the name read Katherine Malloy. He reached over and switched off the monitor and then switched it back on, the name showed as Katherine Galloway. The name was back. He turned away from the screen and spoke aloud, “Computer, current information on Katherine Galloway please.”

The female voice of the computer spoke after a few moments of searching for the file, “Commander Katherine Galloway. First Officer on the USS Genesis, NCC 23696. Decorated with the ‘Silver Cross’ for Valor. Current status: Deceased. USS Genesis was destroyed two and a half years ago in an encounter with the Romulans. She is succeeded by her husband, Lieutenant Paul Galloway, Deputy Chief Engineer of Ambassador class, USS Hetrick NCC 21071.”

Mike closed his eyes to think, “Rescue her to save us,” spoke the voice once again.

Mike stood up and paced round his ready room, the voice was trying to tell him something. Had he imagined that second name; the screen had clearly shown the name Galloway, yet there was the name Malloy. “Computer, current location of the USS Hetrick?”

“The USS Hetrick is currently stationed at Starbase Epsilon Piper Four.”

“Computer, how long would it take to reach Epsilon Piper Four at Warp Five?”

“It would take three days, six hours and forty seven minutes to reach Starbase Epsilon Piper Four from our current location.”

Mike left his ready room and entered the Bridge,

“Captain on the Bridge” announced Meredith Farrar at his entry.

Commander Savok stood up from the centre seat to allow his Commanding Officer to sit down, “That will not be necessary Commander. I need you to stay on the Bridge for a short while. I will be in my Ready room as I need to make contact with Captain Gordon.”

“Captain Gordon? Commanding Officer of the USS Hetrick? If memory serves, they are currently on assignment at Veron Six.”

“That’s correct. Your memory is as impeccable as ever.” Captain Delany turned towards Kalar, “Set course for Starbase Epsilon Piper Four, Warp Five.”

“Aye sir.”

“Captain, that course correction will take us away from our current assignment. Starfleet will not approve of us leaving our current mapping mission. The Bajorans are needing this area completely mapped and planets assigned from it for us to complete our treaty with them. Their ambassador, Kel Aniyan is due to rendezvous with us in exactly one weeks time to confirm the mapping information and sign the treaty. It will take us approximately four days to travel to Veron Six. We will not have enough time to travel back to complete our mission.” Mike looked at his First Officer, but the way that he looked at him was different; it was like he was looking through him, like Savok wasn’t the First Officer. “You’re right, of course. Helm, increase to warp eight.”

“Sir, I cannot recommend this course of action.”

“Commander, as my First Officer I expect you to follow my orders.”

“Captain I have no issue with following your orders, as long as the reason behind them is understood and logical.”

“I have reason to believe that Captain Gordon could use our assistance, our personnel to help with their mission.”

“As I understand the Hetrick’s current mission is routine patrols of the Romulan Federation Neutral Zone. I don’t believe that the Merrimac’s presence will be of assistance to her. I fail to understand the logic in this course of action.”

Mike looked at his first officer, “Sometimes logic doesn’t work. If it turns out that the Hetrick doesn’t require us, then we can still get back here and resume our mapping mission. Correct?”

“At Warp Eight, I believe that we will have enough time to complete the mission, providing no problems present themselves.”

“Excellent.” Mike went back into his Ready room, sat himself back down and the voice once again spoke out, “Rescue her, save her, save us.”

 

Lieutenant Rochelle Smith, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Hetrick was attending to Scott Hawkins, “Minor bruising to your face Lieutenant. You know you really should report this behavior of his to the Captain.”  Lieutenant Hawkins rubbed his face, the bruising now subsiding, “That won’t help him Roch. What he really needs is what I cannot provide at the moment. How can I go to the Captain with a theory?”

“It could save her life.”

“Assuming she is alive. I’ve reviewed the footage from his escape pod over and over again. I’m convinced she is alive; the way the Romulan ship specifically selected it’s targets.”

Scott got down from the bio bed and walked over to one of the wall displays, “He needs his wife back. I’m sure that the Romulan’s must have scanned her pod and transported her onboard before it was destroyed.”

Rochelle put down the Tricorder that she was adjusting and approached Scott, “Tell the Captain. She knows you are our expert on Romulans. You studied them throughout your Academy days. It’s why you picked this assignment.”

“She will not enter the neutral zone without proof. Besides where do we look? The Romulan Empire is huge.”

“Where would you take her?”  Scott turned round and leaned against the panel; it made a quiet bbbzzzttt noise which quickly made Scott move once again, “If I was a Romulan, I would take her to a remote location. Maybe Franquila. It’s remote, near the border but not guarded so it wouldn’t draw attention to itself. No ships fly there, therefore it’s uninhabited, or so they want us to think.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Every night when I’m not on duty, I set the long range scanners to detect low frequency transmissions on frequencies that I know are used by Romulans. Every so often, a transmission leak comes from the planet.  I cannot explain why they are detected, if the planet is uninhabited?”

“Have you told the Captain of this?”

“No, I don’t think it’s enough to go on. It could be a remote relay Station. It could be anything. I can’t tell Paul this in case it gets his hopes up. I can’t bring it to the Captain either. I could go alone in a shuttle to try to check it out-” Rochelle cut him off before he could finish his sentence, “That could cost you your position. You’ve worked hard to become Tactical Chief on here, besides what if it was true, what if you got captured?”  Scott smiled at Rochelle, “Never happen. I’m too good to ever be captured by the Romulans.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t want to lose you to them. I’ve seen Paul’s anguish and wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“Neither would I,” confirmed Scott, “If she is alive, I don’t think I could ever imagine what she is, would be or has gone through. I don’t think I’d be here if it was me.” Rochelle put her hand over Scott’s mouth, “Don’t say that. You’re stronger than you let on.”

“Maybe. Thankfully I will never need to know.” Both Scott and Rochelle held onto each other for a while, both happy in each other’s embraces.

 

“Captains Personal Log,

Stardate 45131.8, I am making this log entry secure. I have recently been hearing a voice in my head; I think I am the only one who is hearing it. I have seen images; a ship that I don’t recognize yet is familiar, a planet that I don’t recognize, a female who I think I once considered as a first officer for my ship. These images are just some of the things that I cannot figure out their meaning.

The voices have mentioned something about this timeline being wrong. Should I take it that I am not supposed to be here, that I am not supposed to be Captain of the USS Merrimac or even supposed to be a Captain? The phrases, the words I cannot remember now; maybe I imagined it. Maybe I am going mad and should have Dr Hadrius Pel check me out. God knows? I’ve currently set the Merrimac on a course to rendezvous with the USS Hetrick; her crew has one member who used to be on the USS Genesis. He is the widower of its First Officer. I am hoping that he can help shed some light onto this? What is the significance of his wife? How does she fit into this equation? What is it about this dead woman that has compelled me to abandon my current mission on what is possibly a wild goose chase? Commander Savok has so far indulged me in this, however his Vulcan nature is making him question my judgment in this matter. He knows what we are doing can risk the fragile treaty we hold with the Bajorans. I have been in communication contact with Captain Beverly Gordon of the USS Hetrick. I’ve not been able to tell her too much; how would it sound if I told her about this voice that I have been hearing? All I’ve asked, which she has granted, is an audience with Lieutenant Paul Galloway, her Deputy Chief Engineer. Maybe he can confirm that the person who I have seen in my mind is his wife, I might then have a lead as to what to do, where to go. He might even know what the planet is that I have seen. I have too many questions and not enough answers for this puzzle. All I know is that if I am wrong on any of this, then Starfleet could potentially strip me of my command, due to my course of actions. As I understand, Kel Aniyan is not someone to be trifled with; her reputation in the Cardassian Bajoran war spoke volumes for them defeating the Cardassians. I have no wish to plunge the Federation into war with them; we have enough trouble with the Romulans.”

Captain Delany finished his log entry and leaned back in his chair in his Ready room. He again wondered why he was doing this?

“Correct the time line,” spoke the voice once again, “The timing is near.”

“Captain, we are approaching Epsilon Piper Four. You asked to be notified upon our approach.”

“Understood Savok. I’m on my way to the Bridge. Open hail to the dock master at the Station.” Once Mike had arrived onto the Bridge, Meredith Farrar advised that the Dock Master was on the line, “Merrimac, this is an unexpected pleasure. You’re not scheduled to arrive here within this current mission period of yours. You’re quite a way out of your mission area. Is there any reason for your visit?”

“We are here to see the Captain of the USS Hetrick.”

“Very well Merrimac. Proceed to docking Station port Alpha Five. Third level. Starboard side of the Station. I can allow you six hours before the Berlin is due to dock there. You’ll be next to the Hetrick. Dock Master Henderson out.”  The screen went back to the image of the docking yard on the Station. The docking lights on the third level of the starboard side of the Station suddenly came on. “That must Alpha Five.”

“Indeed Captain, the Hetrick must be in Alpha Four,” commented Savok.

Mike did a customary nod to Savok to confirm the same thing; he then turned to Meredith, “Send a message to Captain Gordon. Ask her to meet me in the Station’s Observation lounge. Ask her to bring Lieutenant Galloway with her.”

“Understood sir. Sending message now.”

Within an hour, Captain Delany, Captain Gordon and Lieutenant Galloway were in the Station’s Observation lounge.  “Well Captain. I’m indulging you in this, only because it might allow my Lieutenant a bit of closure.  Exactly why did you request this meeting?” asked Beverly Gordon. Paul Galloway looked nervous in the presence of both Captains. Mike produced a PADD, which held an image of a person on it, except that he’d got Commander Savok to help him age the image of this person to look more gaunt, more frail. He handed it to Paul. Paul looked at it for a few moments, “What is this?” he asked, not sure what or who he was looking at.

“Look closely Lieutenant. I need to know, do you recognize her?”

Paul looked again at the image, “It looks like Katherine, but she was killed almost three years ago.” He threw the PADD across the room, “What sick game are you playing Captain? Don’t you think I have suffered enough already? I keep reliving the moment of her death every day.” He turned towards Beverly and continued, “Hawkins thinks that she might still be alive; he has some bizarre theory that she was captured by the Romulans. He hasn’t mentioned it to you because he feels that you won’t do anything,” vented Paul in frustration.

Beverly for her part didn’t respond directly to Paul’s frustration. Instead all she did was touch her Communicator badge and spoke, “This is Captain Gordon. Send Lieutenant Hawkins over to the Observation lounge on the Station, top priority. Anything else he is working on will have to wait.”

“Understood Captain”, came the reply.

Mike left his seat and picked up the PADD and changed the image. “This planet, I’ve tried to reproduce on this PADD as best as I can from memory. Do you recognize it Lieutenant?” Paul picked up the PADD and studied the picture of the planet. Nothing about it struck out at him. “Sir, with respect. I’m an Engineer. I spend most of my time in the depths of the Hetrick. I have no chance of seeing any planets from where I am based. Even on Away missions, I only see the surface, nothing from above. You’re talking to the wrong person.”

“I see,” said Mike, disappointment in his voice.

“Captain, Mike” spoke Beverly, “What exactly is this all about? I know what your current mission is. You are putting the fate of the Federation at risk by this. You are risking war with the Bajorans. Why ask to see us?”

Mike, still on his feet after having presented Paul with the PADD spoke once again, “What I have to tell you, stays in this room. Even my First Officer doesn’t know about this. I cannot explain this without sounding like I should be relieved of command, except that…”

Mike looked at them both, hesitantly. “I’ve been seeing images of things, places,”

He looked at Paul as he continued, “People, I keep hearing a voice, telling me that the timeline is wrong-”

“You aren’t thinking of interfering with the timeline continuity are you?” interrupted Beverly.

“No. I needed to find out if anyone else recognized the person on the PADD. I see her in my dreams; she’s gaunt, weak. I think I’m being told to rescue her.”  Paul looked at the PADD once more and switched back to the image of the woman. Yes, she was gaunt, she looked older somehow, but he wasn’t too sure. Paul linked it up with the Stations computer, accessed his own files from the Hetrick and overlaid an image of his beloved wife. “Yes, it could be her. But she looks so different,” spoke Paul solemnly.

At that point, Lieutenant Scott Hawkins entered the room, “Captain you requested to see me,” Upon noticing the presence of Paul and another Starfleet Captain, Scott paused. “What’s going on?”

“Lieutenant, may I introduce Captain Delany, of the USS Merrimac. Captain, this is Lieutenant Scott Hawkins, our Chief Tactical Officer and also our resident expert on the Romulans. He spent most of his time at the Academy studying them. That is why he is on this assignment; so far whenever we have had an encounter with the Romulans, thanks to our Lieutenant, we have emerged victorious.”

“I see. Welcome Lieutenant,” greeted Mike, as he invited Scott to take a seat next to Paul. Paul himself was still flicking through the three images now: that of his wife, the older gaunt version of her and the planet.

It wasn’t until the planet appeared back on the display that Scott spoke up, “Why have you got an image of Franquila on the PADD?”

Mike suddenly looked at him, “You know this planet? You know where it is Lieutenant?”

“Yes Sir. It looks like the planet Franquila. It’s a planet in Romulus space. It’s not very heavily protected. It doesn’t have much in the way of Romulan ships protecting it although it does have some level of transmissions emanating from it. Communication frequencies I believe.”

“You never mentioned this to me Lieutenant,” admonished Beverly, “How do you know this?”

“I set the sensors to monitor the Romulan Neutral Zone for Transmissions on Romulan frequencies. I do it as Tactical Officer. It means that we are always prepared for any situation that might arise.”

“Except this,” commented Paul who had been quiet until now. “You should have mentioned this. She’s alive isn’t she?” He looked to Captain Delany, “You’ve seen her; Scott knows the planet. What is she to you? Scott thinks that the Romulans could have beamed her onto their ship before her evacuation pod was destroyed.”

“Slow down Lieutenant. This could be one big coincidence.”

Mike sat down to think.

“Rescue her, save her, save us,” came the voice.

Mike looked to Beverly, “When are you due out on patrol next?”

“We are here for another five days before we leave on our next patrol. Why do you ask?”

“What I’m about to ask of you is big. If it fails, it could be the end of our commissions. I need you to complete our mapping mission for my crew. It will hopefully allow us to keep the peace with the Bajorans.”

“If we are doing the mapping mission, which I haven’t said we’d agree to, what would you be doing instead?” asked Beverly, even though she thought she might already know the answer. “I need to pay a visit to Franquila, to find out if she is there.  If she is, I need to rescue her. I don’t know why, but I just know if she is alive, she must be rescued.”

Beverly looked at Mike for a few moments, “You’re going to do this regardless aren’t you? Lieutenant Hawkins inadvertently has just confirmed what you wanted to know.”

“He has and I intend to. I think there is more to her than what we think.  I have to rescue her.”

“With respect Captain, you won’t make it. I cannot change the mission of the Hetrick to satisfy your possible need to do this. You also know that it is my duty to report this.”

“I know Captain, but what if rescuing her could help us?”

“If my wife is alive Captain, I have to know. Please, I request to join Captain Delany on this mission. She needs me, as I need her.”

Scott broke into this, “Captain, I know you will not risk your ship on this mission, I think Captain Delany will. He won’t make it though.”

“Thank you Lieutenant,” said Beverly, glad that she had his support.

“No Captain, I mean he will need an expert in Romulan society, technology and language. He will need me,” finished Scott.

“I’m not risking my ship Lieutenant,” declared Captain Gordon, though she started to realize what he was going to say next.

Scott, as good a Tactical Officer as he was wanted to test himself even more against the Romulans, than just in the occasional skirmishes that the Hetrick had encountered.  “Captain, request temporary reassignment to the Merrimac. Captain Delany will need all the help that he can.”

“Lieutenant,” said Captain Delany, “There’s no guarantee that she will be there.”

“Sir, I’ve studied the Romulans since my days starting out in the Academy. There’s no one more qualified in what I can do than me.  You need me. You need me to get to the planet, as only I know where it is; you need me in case you cannot operate any of the Romulan equipment. Should they detect you, how will you know? I have knowledge, if only basic of the Romulan Dialect. You need my help.”

“Very well. I will grant you a temporary reassignment on the Merrimac, until the end of this mission with Captain Gordon’s permission. But I need you Captain Gordon to complete the mapping mission for me. Please, I don’t ask this lightly,” said Mike.

“Very well. Scott you will transfer over, as an exchange officer with the Merrimac. Be sure to send me over your own Tactical Officer Captain, to make this more official.”

“Sir,” interrupted Paul, “Starfleet will know both ships have swapped assignments. You will need to change the Warp Signatures of both ships to make it look like neither has left its current assignment. I can make the Merrimac look like the Hetrick until we reach Romulan space then I could, with Scott’s help make it look like a Romulan vessel when we cross the Neutral Zone. It should give us a better chance of success.”

“Very well Lieutenant, I will transfer you over as well. Captain, send me your Deputy Engineer. He can work with my Chief to make us look like you,” said Beverly. “It appears Lieutenant that you might be reunited with your wife after all. I prey that you are. And Captain, I prey that you know what you are doing.”

“Rescue her, save her, save us, save him,” came the voice; only this time both Scott and Paul heard it as well as Mike.

 

To Be Continued…

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Star Trek: A New Threat

Part One – Final Fight

 

The year is in the latter half of 2293 and James T Kirk is stood in his ceremonial Starfleet uniform looking out of one of the many observation decks located on Starbase 215. The man is in a sombre mood as he thinks back to many memories of the previous years. Outside the observation window on the far side of the giant hollowed sections of the starbase sits theEnterprise, docked in the internal shipyard all powered down. Small shuttlecrafts scuttle around her supporting the crews that are repairing any exterior damage after her engagement at Khitoma.

 

Kirk takes a final sip from his champagne glass and thinks that he could wish his son, David to be by his side. All his time in Starfleet he had never thought what it would be like to be a father but now it weighs on his mind every day ever since David was murdered. The swoosh of the automatic door opening behind him shook him back to reality.

“Any particular reason why you’re hiding in here”? Asked McCoy.

Both the Doctor and Spock walked up next to their now former captain. Jim doesn’t turn to look at them but instead keeps his sad glare on his ship. Bones gives him a warm smile as he senses his friends’ sadness.

“You know it is the captain’s job to stick around at these dull parties and bore everyone with their stories of Klingon encounters and run-ins with pretend Gods”.

Kirk turns to face his old friends.

“It’s a decommission ceremony Bones. We’re here to celebrate the decommission of a major part of my life”.

Bones takes a swig of his own champagne, thinks for a moment and then as he speaks it makes Kirk give a smile.

“God damn it Jim you can really suck the life out a party”.

Spock raises his eyebrow at the illogical thought that this mood is solely down to his captain and friend having to walk away fromEnterprisefor the last time.

“It seems illogical to weep for what is simply just a ship Captain”.

McCoy turns to him and with the scowl Spock has seen so many times over the years and says.

“Good God man. Are you completely devoid of any kind of soul you green blooded elf”?

Jim puts his empty glass onto the nearby table and turns back to the giant window.

“Seems such a waste that she is being patched up just to be retired”.

The three friends turn to leave the deck and return to the party thrown in honour of the famous flagship. As they leave Spock turns to Jim.

“You’re not the only one taking it badly captain. I hear they had to pull Scotty off the bulkhead by force”.

Kirk and Bones are laughing at Spock’s comment as they exit. As they are about to leave Kirk turns to look at the ship over his shoulder. He gives a loving smile and what was once his home for so many years.

“Gods speed old friend”.

 

… … … …

The next morning an elderly but still in shape Andorian Captain called Thelev is walking the corridors ofEnterpriseon his way to the bridge. Thelev has been given the honour of being the very last captain ofEnterprisedue to his role of being a spook. The Spooks was the nick name given to skeleton crews who moved any class of ship around the federation when a full crew couldn’t be found or just simply not needed. His current assignment was to take the ship to get it downgraded and ready for her new resting home.

 

His chief engineer runs up to join him. She is a Trill woman in her early fifties but still very attractive for her age.

“How was the party last night? Some of us were working till 0300 hours of course”

The captain looks at her, his head heavy with a hangover. It never surprises him how full of life she is even at this ungodly hour of the morning.

“It went well, but I swear Lenara it’s the last time I get talked into a drinking contest with Pavel Chekhov”.

She give him a cheeky grin as they continue towards the turbolift.

“You’re getting old Captain, you don’t have the ability of a young Andorian anymore”. The captain smiles as he pushes the button for the lift.

“Any more back chat like that and I’ll stick you in the brig”.

Lenara laughs as she watches Thelev get in the lift. She passes him her electronic clipboard that contains the final repair report on the ship.

“Oh is that so? I can’t see my husband liking that very much”.

The captain takes the clipboard and throws Lenara a wink as the doors begin the shut.

“God job I am your husband then isn’t it?”

 

 

The doors open onto the bridge and Thelev walks out. Since it is just a Skeleton crew the stations were not all manned. The crew is one he has worked with for a while and even some of them for a good few years now. A good portion are made up of cadets on their one-year fleet experience duties from the academy but most are fully qualified crew who are close to retirement. The latter is the case of Thelev, the man is only eight months from retirement and looking forward to moving back to Andoria. Lenara wasn’t overly thrilled to join him as she was never one for the cold in any of her life cycles. The captain eases himself into his seat, he had lost count of how many different captain’s he had graced over the years but none as famous as The Enterprise. He has always liked this class of ship and before today has only had the pleasure to captain a Constitution once before.

“Report Mr Ryker” He said finally.

Ryker is a human cadet only into his first three months of on the job training. A competent pilot but still a little green around the gills but Thelev trusted him all the same. Mind he is still keeping an eye on this young human as he’s never flown a Constitution class outside of a simulator.

“Repairs were all completed last night Captain. We’re ready to ship out on your order”.

The captain leans over to hit the communication button on his chair arm.

“Thank you ensign, Bridge to Engineering”.

The speaker crackles into life, and the voice of his wife and chief engineer can be heard.

“Engineering here captain”.

“Report”.

Lenara is stood inside Engineering at a communication console. The engine room is a buzz of lights and humming noises. Her team is going about their business of monitoring consoles and making final adjustments.

“All ready Captain. The last of the work crews have left so we’re ready when you are”.

Back in the bridge, Thelev gives a nod towards Ryker as he shuts off the com link.

“Helm, take us out. One quarter impulse”.

 

The docking clamps and walkways begin to retract away for the side of the ship. Her thrusters gently power up and manoeuvre theEnterpriseaway form the sidewall. Reaching maximum distance the main impulse engines hum into life and start the ship on her move out of the dock. The giant internal hull doors start their slow slide to open andEnterpriseeases through the gap. The French communication’s ensign, LaBouf, swings on his chair to face his captain. Thelev wasn’t a big fan of LaBouf, the ensign in his opinion was lazy and not what starfleet was looking for. He would make sure his end of tour report would reflect as much.

“Captain Thelev I’m receiving a communication from the dock commander. It seems that we have someone outside waiting to say goodbye. It’s USS Excelsior and we are being hailed”.

Captain Thelev orders to have it put up on screen. They are greeted by the image of a smiling Captain Hikaru Sulu.

“Captain Thelev. I couldn’t leave without seeing her in flight one last time”.

Thelev had a few dealings with Sulu in the past and when they had met in passing they have always enjoyed each others company. He had a lot of respect for Sulu what with his time with Jim Kirk but also as the man in the big seat of the Excelsior.

“Don’t worry captain I’ll make sure not to scratch her just like I didn’t scratch the Excelsior” smiles the Andorian.

“I know you will Thelev. Take care of her she’s been through a lot” he laughs

The screen cuts off and is replaced by the image of the Excelsior turning away and jumping to warp.

 

“Set course Mr. Ryker… Maximum warp”.

Yes she had been through a lot but even now he couldn’t resist putting Enterpriseinto the wind and giving her the full beans. After all this would be her final run. After leaving Mars and her warp engine internals removed she would make the final journey to earth under impulse. He was sure Lenara wouldn’t mind him pushing the engines like this. After all, it was a simple enough mission. He didn’t even get twenty minutes  into the mission before Lenara had managed to convince her husband that it would be a better idea to drop back to warp four. Disappointedly Thelev had agreed as he was hoping to make the run to the Utopian shipyards in record time. Typical women he thought.

 

… … … …

 

Sat in his ready room he is making his first log as the captain on theEnterprise.

“Captains log. We’re two hours out of Starbase 215 and on course for Utopia Planitia shipyards on Mars. My heart is heavy for this final mission of a ship with so much history on it that…”

The rumble of his stomach stops him mid sentence. The captain shut of his recording device and decides that he should probably force a late breakfast down his throat. It may even help with the hangover his was fighting. Arriving in the canteen he first notices his wife sat having a sandwich, the second thing to hit him is the smell of food. His stomach turns at the thought of eating so he decides to only have a cup of coffee as he sits down next to Lenara. The canteen is mostly empty with a few of the lower deck crews grabbing a quick bite to eat.

“So did you get to see all of the tweaks in engineering”?

Lenara swallows her food and wipes her mouth with a napkin.

“Montgomery Scott is a genius. At least eighty percent of the modifications should be updated onto the remaining Constitution class ships if you ask me”.

Her husband takes a sip of his coffee and rests his forehead in his free hand.

“Doubtful they would ever do that. WithEnterpriseto be mothballed it leaves only three of the same class in use. The Excelsior class is the backbone of the federation now”.

Pulling a face Lenara replies to his comment.

“Yuk. Horrible bloody ship that. It always makes me think of a fat elephant when I look at one”.

Thelev chuckles as he finishes his coffee off.

“Well I wouldn’t say no if they gave me one”.

Lenara throws her napkin at him in a mock huff, it lands on his head.

“Bet you would since you know I’m not qualified to work on Excelsior Class” she scowled humorously “So if they give you one you couldn’t work with your wonderful wife anymore”.

Thelev gives out a laugh as he finally pulls the napkin off his head and swings back on his chair legs.

“Always with the silver lining” he jokes “Anyway we’re only months away from retirement Mrs Thelev and the Gods know we’ve earned it”.

His attention is quickly drawn to the speaker system as he hears Ensign LaBouf’s voice click into life and requests the captain come to the bridge as soon as possible. Thelev says his goodbye to his wife and walks out to find the nearest turbo lift.

 

As he enters the bridge he finds the Frenchman nervously waiting for him.

“Sir it’s a priority message from Starfleet. It’s addressed to all ships in the quadrant”.

Thelev has a concerned look on his face as he lowers himself into the captain’s chair. He gives the order to put it onscreen. He knows that a fleet wide message can only mean bad news.

 

… … … …

 

The Captain and his senior members of the skeleton crew are all sat in the make shift meeting room in theEnterprise’s officers dinning room. Thelev looks serous as he is standing at the head of the table and he addresses the other four officers.

“A short time ago, I received a priority transmission from Admiral Morrow at Starfleet Command. They have asked for every available ship to meet at these co-ordinates”.

The captain turns and hits a button on his remote and a video screen comes on showing a star map. Ryker sticks his hand in the air.

“Captain isn’t that the Neutral Zone along the Klingon border”?

Thelev puts the remote back on the table and takes his seat as he replies to his helmsman.

“Correct. Starfleet intelligence has informed us that of 0800 hours this morning the Klingon fleet have engaged an unknown alien ship within their own space”.

Waves of concerned looks pass the table between the department heads. Lenara speaks up first.

“What and the Klingon’s have asked for help? I’m assuming there is a twist we’re missing here Captain”.

Thelev hits the remote again and the screen kicks up a new image of the alien ship. The ship isn’t as elegant as most ships seen in the alpha quadrant but instead looks like a mass of green glowing energy conduits and tightly packed grey piping. It’s shape make it look like a rectangle with some bulkheads missing.

“No official word has come from the Klingons asking for assistance and yes there is a twist. These are long range scans of the alien ship. It’s a hell of a size and has an energy signature we’ve never seen before. The thing is at least ten times the size of theEnterprise”.

Lt Harp’ar gets out of his seat and has a closer look at the tactical data on the video screen.

“Weapons”?

Harp’ar was a Tellarite that had been with the captain for five years now after they met on a mission Thelev would love to forget, plus besides the captain the Ltd was the only member of his crew to have seen actual combat.

“The alien weapons were cutting through the Klingon shields as if they are not even there. Early estimates show that they have lost a third of their fleet in that sector”.

The captain watched the shocked reaction of the others as they look at each other. He breaks the silence within the room.

“The alien ship is on a direct course for Earth. It jumps to warp ten every forty-seven minutes then drops out after an hour. It seems the Klingons have at least damaged its warp capabilities. They predict in just under an hour the ship will drop at the co-ordinates provided. Starfleet want to deliver the killing blow and stop this ship before it does God knows what in Earth space”.

Thelev stand’s from his seat. The rest follow his lead as they see the briefing is coming to an end. The captain leans forward onto the table. He has that look in his eyes that means he means business.

“Starfleet know we’re in no condition to fight and have given us the option to sit this one out but I want us there none the less. Our task will be to provide support and be responsible for evacuating damaged ships and pass the wounded to the medical frigates that will be unable to get ‘inbetween’ the fighting”.

 

After the department heads return to their locations the ships crew who are all apprised of the situation and burst into life. Their main aim to make sure theEnterpriseis in top condition for the battle. As they near their completion of duties, the speaker system on the ship kicks into life.

“This is your captain speaking. We’re not there to stop this thing but to save lives. Yes we’re only a skeleton crew but I’ve worked with you all for so long that I know you can do this. In ten minutes we will be along side the medical frigate USS Unico. She will beam over extra medical staff and supplies”.

A short time later, the Miranda class ship USS Unico is in formation with theEnterprisewith both ships only a matter of minutes away from the co-ordinates. They have slowed to Warp five to ensure a complete safe transport of all supplies and personnel. On the bridge Thelev is updated by Ensign Johns.

“Medical supplies and staff have finished being beamed aboard captain”.

“Ryker increase our speed to warp nine”.

The internal communication light flashes on the captain’s chair. Hitting the receive button the speaker spits out the voice of the new head doctor sent from the Unico.

“Sickbay to bridge, we’re all set down here captain.”

Sickbay is alive with people running about getting everything ready. On the comms is Dr Phlox speaking to the captain. Thelev’s voice comes back to answer his new medical officer.

“Thank you Dr Phlox and welcome aboard. We’re behind schedule and the battle has already started. So we’ll be taking injured onboard straight away”.

“Understood Captain and may I say it’s pleasant to work on anEnterprisejust like my father did”.

 

Back in the bridge Ryker informs his captain that they are at the co-ordinates. Thelev orders him to drop them to impulse and put up the battle on the main view screen. They are met by a horrific view of the battle already in full swing. They can see all the other different classes of Federation ship attacking the alien ship. Ships are blown apart and debris is everywhere. Ships are firing phasers and torpedoes on the massive enemy ship. Even without his detailed scans, Thelev could tell the Federation was losing against this single enemy and losing badly at that.

TheEnterpriseskilfully manoeuvres through the debris and carnage of battle. The area is alight with weapons fire from both sides. Thelev is quickly reading the incoming tactical data with regards the enemy ship. He’s astounded to find that it is able to adapt to the frequency changes of the different federation phaser types. Sensors were also picking up that the enemy warp engines are regenerating on their own. Other tactical data being shared by the fleet indicated that if this ship jumps to warp it can be at Earth in no time. Suddenly the deck is shaking hard as a shock wave comes from an exploding saucer section from a nearby hit Excelsior class ship.

“Mr Ryker. Hard to port”!

“Aye Captain”!

From his tactical console sat next to Ryker Harp’ar spins on his seat to address his Captain.

“Sir it’s theLexington. She’s been hit. Warp core has been breached”.

“Helm, get us in there, maximum impulse”.

TheEnterpriseswings towards the crippled Excelsior classLexington. TheLexingtonhas taken a great deal of damage and is venting plasma from its starboard warp engine. It is still firing some phasers at the enemy ship but its photon torpedoes are off-line. The captain shouts out his orders into the intercom.

“Transporter room two, begin emergency beam out of theLexington”.

Turning to Lt Harp’ar the captain gives another order as the ship shakes and electrical relays blow out behind him.

“Focus phasers on the enemy weapon banks that are targeting theLexingtonand us”.

The green energy of an alien phaser shot hits the enterprise in the engineering section. The engine room explodes and crew members are being thrown about and some to even to their deaths. As the ship buckles and a groans under the attack. A badly injured Lenara gets to a communication console.

“Medical emergency in Engineering. Medical teams please respond”.

Back on the bridge, things are not much better. Ensign Johns and Captain Thelev are in the middle of fighting an electrical fire at the science station. Harp’ar shouts out his update report.

“Transporters at eighty percent captain. We are forty seconds away from completing beam out”.

His captain returns his report with a fresh set of orders.

“Take phasers off line. Transfer power to transporters and structural integrity”.

“Captain”?

“They’re no good anyway against the alien ship anyway. Best off using the power elsewhere.

TheLexingtonstarts to yaw to face the alien ship its thrusters coming back online. An incoming transmission comes through to the captain’s chair.

“Sir this is Transporter room two. TheLexington’s bridge has put up a disruption field; I cannot beam off their captain. He’s still on the ship”.

Now facing the alien ship and missing a good portion of it’s saucer section they can see theLexingtonstart a ramming run on the alien ship.

“It’s their Captain sir… he’s taking the ship in. Warp Core about to erupt”!

Thelev leans forward, his hands gripping the side as he shouts his order knowing that if he doesn’t act fast theEnterprisecould be taking out with theLexington.

“Helm, get us out of here NOW”!

TheEnterpriseclimbs away theLexington’s warp core explodes as it hits the alien ship. TheEnterprisevibrate and buckle as the shock wave hits them. The impulse engines go off line as the ship starts a slow spin away from the enemy. The crew are thrown around like toys as power falters all around the ship. Thelev picks himself up off the floor as the emergency generators kick in.

“Report Lt Harp’ar”

“External sensors are off line. By the looks of it we have multiple hull breaches on decks A to E”.

Thelev staggers to Ensign Labouf who is slumped in his seat and bleeding from his head. The captain checks his pulse and quickly finds the young ensign is dead. He hits the communication button.

“Bridge to engineering, come in”.

“Engineer Keltow here captain, all primary and secondary systems offline, we’re crippled on backup power only”.

“I need my sensors back up Chief, I need to know what is going on out there”.

The engineer hits a number of buttons on her console and begins a hard restart of the short distance sensors. She breaths a sigh of relief when it comes online.

 

Back in the bridge, Thelev is over Ryker’s shoulder looking at the data coming in. There is no sign of the alien ship but only the semi crippled Federation fleet. The blue glow of a transporter lights up the bridge. It’s the first officer of the USS Unico and a medical team.

“Sir we’re hear to help and begin transport of your crew and patients to our ship. It’s over captain, the alien ship has gone”.

 

… … … …

 

Twenty-four hours later and Captain Thelev is sat in a huge briefing room on the station K7. The station is the closest to the battle and is surrounded by damaged ships. Thelev is there with other star ship captains and commanders waiting for the debriefing to start. He feels a hand on his shoulder from the seat behind. He turns to find a battered Captain Sulu smiling back to him.

“Thelev you shouldn’t be here. There is no reason…”.

“its okay Sulu” he interrupts “ I need to hear this”.

“I hear you saved the lives of everyone on theLexington”

“Well everyone but the Captain it would seem”.

Thelev eyes grow sad and the thought of the crew he had lost in the battle including his own wife. They had all served with amazing courage and he would see that every one of them would receive a commendation from Starfleet for there actions. The funeral for his wife was being arranged by her family as thir tradition dictated. TheEnterprisewould stay at K7 for now until repairs were complete enough for the remainder of the crew to complete their original mission. Starfleet had told Thelev that under the circumstances he could stand down but he refused. The lights dim as Admiral Morrow takes the stage. Behind him the huge screen shows a detailed tactical display of the enemy ship. Before today’s debrief Thelev had found out from the Unico’s captain that after the warp breach the alien ship had jumped away using some sort of Transwarp conduit that the fleet was unable to follow. Wherever it had come from it had returned just as quick.

 

Part 2 – The Other Side

 

Thelev looked around the admiral’s office as he waited. He shifted around uncomfortable in his seat, it may have been a cold autumn here but compared to home it was a horrible heat on Earth in comparison. He gazed around at Admiral Morrow’s many commendations on the wall and a miniature scale model of the admiral’s first commission, The USS Talon, an Apollo class ship that by the looks of the model was the refit variant. It had been four months since the battle of Sector 36764, around twelve federation ships had been lost that day with thousands dead. To date it was the greatest loss of Federation shipping in a single engagement. Thelev and his skeleton crew all had received medals of honour for their courage but the crew were disbanded. Their skills were needed on a number of different ships to help fill the gap of experienced crew lost at 36764. The noise of the large oak door to the office creaking snapped Thelev back into reality and he turns to see Admiral Morrow and another man enter the office.

“Greetings Captain”. Morrow smiles.

The admiral motions for the two men to take a seat.

“Captain Thelev this is Charles Tucker”

The admiral explains as he takes his seat.

“Charles is in charge of the Klingon Intelligence office”.

“Please to meet you Captain” Tucker says as he smiles and shakes the Andorian’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Congratulations by the way on your medal for your actions at 36764″

Morrow sizes up Thelev for a moment before giving him the reason as to why he had called him here.

“You me and Tucker here all have something in common…” began the admiral “…Section 31”

Thelev’s polite smile dropped.

“Been a while since I’ve heard that dept mentioned Admiral.

The atmosphere had taken a darker swing in the office.

“My colleagues have suggested you would be an excellent choice for a black ops mission Captain” smiled Tucker with a sly look in his eye. Thelev had been recruited by Section 31 10 years before. He did have to do anything bad, just captain a few federation cargo ships about the neutral zone dropping off cargo and personnel he didn’t need or want to know about.

“Plus you still have a keen tactical mind when it comes to a fight Captain. That much is obvious from recent events” added the Admiral. Thelev had been to the dance before and what was well aware what was coming next. First to come would be the flattery, then the reminder of his duty to the federation. He was only weeks away from retirement and frankly they have caught him at the right time. He was beginning to regret the fact he was going home. He was looking forward to it when he was going to live with his wife on his home world but in the last, few months their marriage had fell apart. Lenara had never been in battle before and after seeing the death of some of her colleagues at the battle it had drove her into a deep depression. This in turn heaped pressure on their marriage. Morrow finally began.

“You may be wondering why we called you here” asked Tucker

“It crossed my mind yes”

The admiral looks over at Charles. The covert intelligence officer stands to pass Thelev a handheld computer PDA. Flashing up on it was general information regarding the battle and scans of the alien craft.

“In the months since the engagement we have collected quite a large amount of information through legitimate channels”

Charles shifts in his seat to better face the captain.

“There is a great deal we have kept out of the public domain regarding our losses and what actually happened that day”.

Both the admiral and Tucker could see from Thelev’s expression that the Captain was confused by the statement. Thelev indeed was confused. I was at the battle; I had even spoken to other captains regarding what had happened that day. What possibly could he not know? He thought to himself but knowing Section 31 a lot of things may have been suppressed. Mr Tucker continued “We have reports logged that the alien’s had transported aboard some damaged federation ships and uploaded large portions of their databases. What is more worrying is that we have over two hundred crew members missing from the official dead logs”.

“What? Are you telling me we have men and women missing in action? Why has nothing been said about this”?

Thelev was becoming quite angry at the thought that Starfleet had people missing in action and no one was told. The admiral cuts in and he leans forward on his desk.

“The facts are these Captain. Starfleet is still reeling from the political fallout over the attempted assassination of the President by our own command staff, not under S31 rule before you ask. Moral is at an all-time low and it was decided that this information, [of which we were not aware of UNTIL the clean-up began], would be kept behind closed doors until a rescue plan could be drawn up”.

Thelev leans back in his chair and takes a minute. He didn’t know what was making him feel worse, the fact that two hundred people were abducted or that Section 31 was back at his door. The intelligence officer broke the silence this time around.

“We have gathered similar information from the Klingons and it’s clear this was a scout ship testing our borders and collecting information on us”

“For an invasion?” mused Thelev.

The admiral begins to load up some additional information and schematics on his computer console.

“That’s what we think. We need to know more on this race Captain. We have a joint effort black ops mission we need you for”

“Why me”?

“The bottom line is this Captain. With our losses at 36764 we are low on experienced captains with section 31 clearance”.

The admiral spins his console screen toward Thelev. The captain can see the schematics for an Excelsior class star ship.

“This is the USS Barak, she was heavily damaged in the battle. For the last two months Section 31 has been retro fitting her as a pure warship…”

The admiral stands up, straightens his uniform and address Thelev with a distinct tone of authority.

“…Captain Thelev we are asking you to take the Barak and rescue our people”.

Thelev stands and solutes his admiral.

“Yes sir, I’ll be honoured“.

“Report to starbase K7 in two days time for your overall briefing. And remember Thelev, your still under Section31 so you know what that means if you talk out of turn to any outside Federation department” added Tucker.

Marrow shows the captain the door. After he leaves the intelligence officer and Morrow look at each other, and their faces both say the same thing. That this is a suicide mission at best.

 

… … … …

 

The Miranda class star ship clunks into place as she docked with the now upgraded K7 station. Captain Thelev disembarks the ship and is greeted by the Commander in charge of the station.

“Hello Captain I’m Commander Franklin. Welcome aboard”.

The two men shake hands andFranklinleads Thelev off towards to station’s situation room. Once there the Captain could see his crew of 200 including two units of what looked like Marines but knowing S31 they we’re all probably mercenaries. They were all already sat waiting to hear the details of the mission. Thelev is introduced to the commander in charge of the marines, a Xindi called Commander Tilko.

“Captain, I’m Tilko Tarran we’re looking forward to getting our people back from those bastards”.

“Good man” Thelev replied, “I’ll make sure you’re given your chance,”

 

Thelev sits down in the front of the speaking hall. Behind Franklin who at this point was activating a scrambler device was a giant view screen showing images to go along with the briefing. Thelev had looked over much of the data on his trip to K7. He was particularly impressed with the stats for the USS Barak. Quad forward photon torpedo tubes, duel aft tubes and multiple standard phaser banks giving a full multi angle firing solution. In addition, there were the upgraded shields, sensors and engines. However, the most impressive thing on the ship was the prototype Type X Phaser array that sat above and below the saucer section. This was incredibly powerful and able to change frequencies at will to combat a change in shield frequency of any enemy. It seems this was going to be the main weapon of choice for Starfleet’s next generation of starships to take them into the next century. Thelev looked to his left as the briefing continued. He could see the contingent of Klingons who are part of this joint operation. He wondered if they know just who was running this operation. Hell the Federation has to be in on it he thought, Section 31 couldn’t afford this on their own. The USS Barak would be joined by a K’t’inga Type Klingon ship. Since the Klingon’s had shared a lot of intelligence on their own battle with the alien ship it was decided that one of their ships would be sent as well. If anything it meant they could cover more ground. The tech-heads back on Earth had found a way of opening the transwarp conduit allow both ships to go where ever the alien’s went and bring back Info and the prisoners.

 

As the briefing finished and the crew started to head to the Barak, Thelev is stopped in his tracks by a Klingon General.

“Captain, I am T’Lang of the destroyer Q’nar” The General began” I’ll be in command on the Q’Nar and I’m looking forward to joining you on this quest”

Thelev was a little stunned by the pleasantry of the Klingon. “General, it’s a pleasure to have you by our side. Tell me do you think many Klingon’s are prisoner over there”?

“Good God no” T’Lang says as he slaps his hand down on Thelev’s shoulder and laughs. “No Klingon is allowed to let themselves become captured. It is their duty to fight to the death”

Thelev unlike most federation citizens didn’t mind the Klingon’s. He has never bought into most of the Federation propaganda about their cold war enemy. He saw them as a people just like everyone else.

 

A short time later and after being introduced to his command staff Thelev stepped onto the bridge of the Barak. His crew had all been hand picked by Section 31 Command. He wondered how many better qualified men and women had lost their lives at 36764. It was times like this he missed the skeleton crew he used to work with, even Ensign LaBouf. The bridge was alive with view screens and consoles. The captain took his seat and prepared to give his first order.

“Helm, prepare to disembark. Advise the station we’re leaving”

Tactical officer Milne looks up from his position towards the captain. “The Q’nar has jumped to warp sir”.

“Fine” he replies “Helm set course for sector 36764, maximum warp”.

The USS Barak pulls away for the docking station and rotates to face the new co-ordinates. The ship blurs for a moment and stretches forward as she jumps to warp. Within seconds, she is pulling passed warp six. Thelev hadn’t seen so much acceleration on a ship and thought to himself that it his wife would have loved seeing the new tech and system layouts even if she wasn’t a fan of the class of ship.

 

The time it would take to get to sector 36764 would be enough for Thelev to finger through the crew manifest. From what he could see with the exception of himself and two others, the ship was practically all human. Not that he had a problem with them but he always felt more at ease if there was more of a mix of aliens on board. Lt Bristow worked the helm; she informed the captain that they are at the coordinates. The order was given for the Barak to drop back to impulse.

“No sign of the Klingon’s Captain” Milne reported.

“Bring us up to the gate,” Thelev ordered.

The Gate was the name used for the giant deflector dish Starfleet had built. Its job was to direct a large amount of Quelling Radiation at the weakened subspace coordinates of the conduit and force it to reopen. A few hundred feet off the port nacelle the Q’nar decloaked. General T’Lang’s voice is heard through the speakers.

“Greetings Captain, we’re ready when you are. We will lead the way.

The speaker shut off. On the main screen, they could see the klingon’s take up position in front of the USS Barak. The deflector dish begins to power up. Two Excelsiors and the last Constitution ship begin to power their weapons and shields. The thought was that if they open the Conduit and the aliens come out then it would be best to be ready. The Klingon’s had sent three Birds of Prey and an old K Class. They had taken a huge loss when they had engaged the enemy last time that this is really all they could spear. The view screen becomes awash with light as the transwarp conduit opens.

“Captain to all crew” Thelev griped the arms of his chair “we’re going in”

He looks over to Bristow and gives her the nod. The USS Barak and the Q’Nar move into the Conduit’s event horizon.

The USS Barak is battered by the gravitation force of the transwarp conduit. Down below Engineering are trying their best to combat the forces.

“Engineering, report” Thelev yelled down the two-way system. The nose of the buffering masking much of what he could hear.

“Captain we’ve reset the emitters we should be levelling out …”

But before the sentence was even finished the ride became infinitely more smooth.

“Thank god for that” Thelev mumbled to himself.

 

 … … … …

 

They had been in the conduit for a good twenty minutes and still no one had an idea of where it was taking them. The signal from the Gate was still strong so at least they knew they could communicate with the ships at the mouth of the conduit. Then without warning, the two ships re-entered normal space and came to a stop. Around them, they could see what remained of a massive battle. Some of the Ships which had the same scan signature of the alien craft they encountered all those months ago now floated dead in space. The only thing left untouched was the giant alien version of Starfleet’s gate that they past through. It seemed to be a giant ring fifty times the size of the USS Barack.

“Well the good news is that at least it seems they can be killed” Thelev thought aloud as he walked over to his tactical officer. “Mr Milne report please”.

A few button pushes on his console brings up a full tactical report for Lt Milne.

“Captain, some of these ships match what we are looking for. The rest are of unknown structure and by the looks of it responsible for the destruction of…”

Milne trailed off. His expression let the captain know that something serious had come up on his screen.

“What is it”?

“I think I’ve found the actual ship that was in our sector sir. It’s heavily damaged on the far side of the battlefield. Scans indicate no power but I’m picking up what I think is life signs” Milne paused for a moment “sir I think it could be a few of our people”

Thelev give the order for Bristow to take the ship closer in. his second order was to get the Q’Nar up on hale.

“Yes Captain” came the response from General T’Lang “What is it”?

“General we have found the ship that attacked us. We’re going in”.

“Agreed Captain, we too have picked it up” The General continued. “If you find any Klingon survivors please leave them as you find them. They should have all died in glorious battle”

The communication went dead. The bridge crew all looked at each other as if they really should have known better than to see compassion from a Klingon.

 

The USS Barack moved in closer to the damaged enemy ship. She was missing a huge chunk of her hull and scans indicated some sort of nuclear explosion. Most probably from one of the other specie’s ships that were spread out destroyed across the battlefield.

“The ship is dead sir but I’m picking up small pockets of energy in a few sections. One of these is where I’m picking up humanoid scans,” Milne reported

“Bridge to Transporter room”

“Yes Captain” came back the response.

“Can you lock onto the life signs and beam them aboard”?

“Yes sir”

A call for a medical team to go to Transporter Room 2 went out over the loud haler as Thelev made his way down there himself. Within minutes, he is standing watching an ensign get a lock on and energise the transport. The medical team stood waiting as they all watched the orange glow of the transports kick in. Almost immediately, Thelev could see that there was a problem.

“Sir I can’t get a complete transport, it’s some sort of damping signal,” The ensign said.

Thelev could hear in the ensign’s voice that he was trying to sound calm but was panicking.

“It’s okay Ensign, you can do this” The captain replied.

However, this was not to be the case. Only one of the four initial transports was successful in a full transport. Lying on the pad in front of them was what looked to once be a human. But now it looked as if some one had grafted on a robotic arm and replaced one eye with some sort of electronic scanner. Underneath the armour and wires, they could still make out the torn parts of a Starfleet uniform.

“What the hell”? One of the medical team members said as he cautiously approached the body.

Thelev got that feeling in his gut that he hated. The feeling that everything was about to go to hell. Hitting the communication pad, he orders a security team to the transporter room. Just as he did, he turned in time to see one of the doctors being thrown across the room. This ‘thing’ was now stood upright. It’s one mechanical arm wrapped around the neck of the other doctor.

Thelev watched as this survivor tries to talk. “We… I… We are… Bor…”

It struck him that even though this thing was doing what it was, it seemed the human inside of it was being forced to do it by the will of something else. Before he had, a chance to take it all in he is shaken out of it by the phaser fire hitting the strange visitor square in the head killing him instantly. Thelev turns to see the transporter ensign lower his weapon.

“I’m… I’m sorry Captain… he…” the ensign stuttered.

The Captain reassured him. “Don’t worry about it son, you did the right thing”.

They all moved over to the corpse. Luckily the two medical staff didn’t suffer life threaten injuries. When security arrived, they moved the body to sickbay for examination. Thelev returned to the bridge to contact the Q’Nar to inform them of what happened.

 

‘Hale the Klingon Ship” the captain ordered as he sat in his chair.

“I’m afraid there is no reply” Milne responded. “The last report from them was that they were investigating another section of the area to transport materials aboard to take back”.

“Are we reading any more life forms”?

“No captain”

“Ms Bristow, set course for the Q’Nar’s last position”. Thelev ordered to his helmswoman.

The USS Barack made its way under impulse to the last co-ordinates of the Klingon ship. Again hales were not being responded to and Thelev was beginning to get that feeling in his gut again.

 

They finally found the Q’Nar listing in space.

“Report” The captain ordered to his tactical officer.

“Her engines are offline, and I’m seeing disruptor energy readings from all of her decks”

“Who the hell are they fighting”?

Bristow yells out “Sir she’s back online, she’s turning to face us”

“Captain the Q’Nar is haling us. Sound only”. The communications officer says.

Sat forward in his seat Thelev replies “About time. Put it up”.

“Strength is irrelevant. Resistance is futile. We wish to improve ourselves. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service ours.”

“Emergency manoeuvre, Alpha-6″

The Barak drops down the Z-Axis as the Q’Nar sails over the top. The federation ship continues to let out a spray of red phasers as the two ships pass each other exchanging fire.

“Shields at eighty percent and holding” Lt Milne shouts over the sound of the rumbling bulkhead as another Klingon torpedo is absorbed by the shields.

 

The two ships had been locked in a firefight for a good ten minutes at this point. Sensors had picked up that a battle was still raging in the Q’Nar. Bristow had suggested maybe a mutiny onboard the Klingon ship which to be honest was making a meal out of the fight, clearly whoever had taken over wasn’t flying her with 100% concentration. Thelev had a different theory and had already worked out a plan he had passed to Tarran. This in part is why he has only ordered concentrated phaser fire on the shield emitters and weapon systems on the Klingon craft only.

“Thelev to Commander Tarran. Are you ready”?

Commander Tarran and four other marines were stood fully armed and equipped on the pads in transporter room one.

“Ready when you are Captain”.

Back on the bridge, Thelev has ordered Bristow to get behind the Klingon cruiser. Lt Milne had locked a single torpedo to bring down their shields fully.

“Their Shields at ten percent. Torpedo locked and ready”. Lt Milne advised.

“Let it loose Lt” Thelev ordered.

The orange glow of the photon torpedo shoots from the upper port tube. Gliding left and right as the internal guidance unit guides the torpedo to its target. Five seconds after leaving the tube, it stuck its destination with a brilliant explosion and the green glow of the Klingon shields drops away.

Thelev slams his thumb into his comm. “Shields are down, Transporter room energise. Good hunting Tilko”.

The glow of the transporter dissipates and Tilko and the marines are standing in a circle facing out and weapons ready. The floor beneath them shakes as another phaser hit from the Barak strikes the ship. It was agreed that while the marines were on board they would continue to fire on the Q’Nar’s weapons to disable her. The small squad moves out and heads to the main engineering section.

“Tilko to the Barak. We are heading to waypoint Beta now. Captain there are Klingon bodies everywhere…”

His report is cut short by a shot of green Klingon disruptor fire hitting one of the Marines. Taking cover Tilko spots the shooter. It is a Klingon but his skin is a light grey. His expression is blank as he walks unsteadily towards the marines. One of the privates takes his shot and downs the Klingon in a blast of white sparks. As the Klingon drops, they see approaching from behind him what they can tell straight away is one of the enemy aliens. It was an unknown species to them, almost dog like in its stature and also seemed to be melded with mechanical parts. Its right eye is glowing red it quickly scans the Marines.

“What the hell is that thing”? Tilko whispers to himself as the alien slowly marches towards them.

“Open Fire!” he finally orders and the Marines kill it.

“Sir, the tri-corder is picking up more of the same moving towards us”. Tilko’s sergeant warns him.

From around the corner one more of the strange bio-mechanical aliens march. Tilko orders his men to open fire but the alien’s personal shield stops their phaser fire.

“Keep firing,” he orders as the alien keeps moving towards them.

“Sir we’ve four more almost on us”

Out of nowhere a Klingon bladed weapons flies past them and hits the alien in the forehead killing it instantly. Tilko turns to see an injured General T’Lang limping up towards them.

“The ship is lost, get out of here,” The General orders “I’ll take care of the rest”

T’Lang opens his hand to show he’s holding a detonator. “It’s attached to the warp core”

“Tilko to USS Barak, Emergency beam out! Captain back away from the Q’Nar she’s about to explode”.

T’Lang watches as the Marines beam away, he turns to face the four aliens that have appeared. They have been joined by a number of infected Klingon crewman as well.

“It’s a good day to die, yes?” the General smirks as he hits the detonator.

 

Back on the Barak Thelev is standing over helmswomen Bristow. They were in full reverse as the Q’Nar’s warpcore explodes and the ship shakes in the warp breach shockwave.

“Sickbay to the Bridge, Captain I have something you need to see”

“On way” The Captain responded. “Tactical, report to the… actually where the hell are we”?

“Using star reference I think we’re in the Delta quadrant sir” Milne responded.

“Fine, report our position and situation to Starfleet using a subspace signal through the open conduit”. The Captain said as he steps off the bridge and onto the turbolift.

 

Thelev hadn’t even stepped back out of the lift next to sick bay when Milne hailed him.

“Captain to the bridge, we have an emergency.”

Thelev rolled his eyes and stepped back onto the turbolift.

“Bridge”!

As soon as the doors opened he could see his bridge crew all looking at him with worry in their eyes.

“What is it”?

“Sir… it’s the Gate… it’s closed”. Milne answered with a quiver in his voice. “The conduit started to collapse when I sent the signal through. We’re trapped captain.”

“How the hell would a subspace signal shut it down”? The captain asks back on the bridge.

The communications ensign swings on her seat to face the deck.

“Captain I think I know what happened, The Gate at this side received a signal from an unknown source and…”

“Captain!” Milne yells out. “I’m reading massive power surges in the Gate at this side. Sir I think she’s about to blow”!

The tactical officer’s display was showing a definite overload in the sixteen generators that are located around the perimeter of the gate.

“The power sources on the gate are reaching critical levels sir”

Thelev is standing over him watching the data come in. “Get us out of here Helm, Warp three”.

The USS Barack jumps to warp just in time as the gate goes up in a blinding white light that engulfs the debris field that surrounded it including the ship that had attacked the Alpha quadrant.

 

“Bring us to an all stop Lt Bristow” The captain orders as he slumps into his chair.

The man looks exhausted and sick to his back teeth. They had been in the Delta quadrant no more than an hour and they had already lost their Klingon support but more importantly the only means of getting home. Thelev eventually stands and looks as if he had his second wind.

“Right, I want a department head meeting in the ready room in twenty minutes. I want a full medical report on what happened to that crewmember we brought onboard and I want to know where that damn signal came from”

Thelev leaves the bridge and heads towards his ready room.

 

 … … … …

 

Sat behind his desk he was trying to take in the tactical data the Barak had collected. He was trying to find a way home but nothing was jumping out at him. He leaned back in his seat with his head in his hand. He couldn’t help but think Starfleet had made a massive mistake putting him in charge of this whole thing. But now wasn’t the time to start feeling sorry for himself he figured. Plenty time to do that when he was dead. He had a whole ship full of people to look after and to make sure he gets them home. It was almost time for the meeting and he still didn’t know what to do or say.

“I should have just gone to Andoria when I had the chance,” he mumbled to himself.

The chime on the door goes.

“Enter”

Lt Milne, Lt Bristow, and Commander Tilko enter the room all carrying padds. Shortly after Dr Collins and Chief Engineer Smith join them for the meeting. Thelev takes the head of the table hoping that his own fears do not show through to the rest of the group.

“Okay what have we got”? He begins

The first to speak up is Dr Helen Collins. She is the youngest of the group but an incredibly talented doctor and surgeon.

“I’ve ran every scan on the young ensign we beamed aboard we can and to be honest the results are a little horrific. His body was infected with nano-machines. Very sophisticated by the looks of them. They attack the DNA of the host and re-write the basic codes, for what end I don’t know I’m afraid”

The chief offers his opinions on the matter. “From what I can see the nano-machines are at least a hundred years ahead of anything Starfleet has on the drawing boards. The technology is amazing”.

Chief Smith or Smithy as most called him was an old war horse of a guy. He was in a constant state of covered in grime and muck. Thelev had never seen a Chief be so hands on with a ship’s engineering duties than he was.

“Okay” Thelev turns to his bridge crew, “What about the signal and do we have any leads on that”?

Milne was first to speak “Yes Communications was able to track it to a planet not far away”.

“It’s about an hour at warp eight, Captain. I can get us underway straight away if you wish”? Bristow asked.

“Yes go ahead but make it warp 9” The captain replies “Commander Tilko have you anything to add”?

Tilko stands and heads over to the large screen and hits a button. The image of the alien comes on screen and data from the tri-corder scrolls beside it.

“The enemy seems to have some sort of personal shielding that is impervious to our assault rifles. This is only active in the alien’s themselves, any infected are easily taken down” Tilko takes his seat again, “between what we saw in the alpha quadrant and here I’d say that our current weapons and tactics are inefficient at best”.

Thelev rubs the bridge of his noise as he thinks for a moment as to his next step. The rest of them patiently wait to see what their orders will be.

“Okay set course for the planet. We don’t know what well find there but they may hold the only chance for our return to the Alpha Quadrant” Thelev stands and straightens his uniform, “Doctor you and the chief continue your tests on the nano-machines. Maybe you can find something we can use. Dismissed”

The group brake and head back to their stations. Thelev decides to stay and wait a moment. In his head, he tried to work out how long it would take to get back home under normal warp drive. At maximum warp, he figured it would take the crew over a hundred years. He thought that perhaps whoever built the transwarp Gate may have built more. If they could find one then they could use it. The trick of course was not to be detected and killed before then. It was becoming clear that Starfleet was in over their heads and they need to be warned.

 

 … … … …

 

An hour later and the USS Barak are in orbit around the planet.

“The surface is dead sir. I’m reading a massive radiation signature meaning the most probably coarse was nuclear war”. Milne continued, “Whoever lived here is long dead Captain”.

“Begin scanning the surface again for any signs of that signal. Someone had to have sent it”.

An alarm stared to chime on Lt Milne’s console, “Sir, we’re being scanned, we have incoming ships. Six of them”

“Raise Shields, Red Alert”!

“I’ve got them on long range sensors”

“On screen”

The main viewscreen flashes on an image of six alien ships closing in on them. The head up display shows that each ship is the size of the Barack. The design was the same as many of the damaged ships that lay destroyed alongside the enemy alien ships. Thelev hoped that they were fighting each other and not allies destroyed side by side. The enemy was bad enough to fight without taking on equally strong allies.

“Try and raise them, all frequencies,” Thelev orders to his communication’s officer.

The view screen changes as the hail is accepted and they are met with the beautiful face of an alien female.

“I am Kellzy, Sector leader of theAlliance, state you purpose in this region”. Her voice was firm but soft at the same time.

“I’m Captain Thelev of the USS Barak. We’re part of the United Federation of Planets. We…”

Before he could finish, the transmission is cut silent, the image remained and it looked as if Kellzy was receiving an update from one of her bridge officers.

“Lt Milne, how long till weapons range”? Thelev asks his tactical officer as he turns his back to the screen.

“They have dropped out of warp and are in our range now Captain, I’m not reading any targeting sensors from their ships. But they are scanning us.” The Lt says and he rechecks his console.

The speakers kick back in and the bridge is once again filled with Kellzy’s voice. “Captain our scan shows you have Borg technology onboard your vessel”.

“Borg? No we have no…” he pauses for a moment as it dawns on him. “You mean the crewman we have in our morgue”? He’s dead but not before he was infected by some nano-machines”.

By this point, the six ships have come to an all stop in a perimeter around the USS Barack. Kellzy’s body language is showing a more relaxed nature towards Thelev. For the first time he could see what he took as exhaustion in the alien’s eyes.

“These Borg”, Thelev continues, “they invaded our space and killed many of our kind and kidnapped over two hundred. We need all the information you have. Please help us.”

“You came through the Sulgat didn’t you”? She asks.

“Sulgat? You mean the Transwarp Conduit? Yes, yes we did” Thelev’s replies.

“Captain Thelev, we will transport you to our ship. We have much to discuss”. Kellzy says with a slight smile.

 

 … … … …

 

Less than ten minutes later Thelev is aboard the lead alien vessel. He had been greeted well and not treated like an enemy prisoner. He could sense that these people meant him no harm but looked at him with suspicion. He put it down to the fact that they had never seen an Andorian before; after all he was looking at them as hard as they were at him. The Captain is shown to what he took as a war room. It is flanked with large view screens showing tactical data of The Borg and their ships. Sat around a table are the captains and their second in commands from each of the other six ships.

“Please” greeted Kellzy’s with her hand indicating a spare seat, “Sit here Captain”.

Thelev takes his seat. He was starting to feel a little less intimidated; He had left Milne in charge of the Barack and hoped to the gods that if this all went south then they would be able to get him off and away without any casualties.

“What you are looking at around this table Thelev is the last of my species”. Kellzy began. “The enemy call us Species 215 but we are the Talus-Qual. We have been hunted to near extinction by cybernetic organisms known simply as, The Borg”.

“Were they the ones who built the… what did you call it? The Sulgat?” Thelev asks.

“No that was built by us. It was meant to be our last escape from this sector of space,” says one of the other Captains.

Kellzy takes her seat next to Thelev. “We are only around eleven thousand strong now; the rest of our species has been killed or assimilated”.

“Assimilated”?

“It’s how The Borg invades”. Chirps in one of the other Captains. “They take over a vessel or colony and meld the life forms and technology to their own”.

“That wasn’t always how it was with them”.

Kellzy stands and uses a remote to switch one of the giant screens to show a Borg robot.

“They originated outside of our known space, originally a fully robotic four legged entity then went from world to world eradicating every life form it came in contact with and stole any advanced technology.

The Borg robot wasn’t humanoid looking. It seemed to resemble more like a four-legged animal with two arms sprouting from its back and two more from its side. Thelev thought it looked weird and wondered what the kidnapped Starfleet crew had thought when they first encountered them during the abduction. There was no real description from both Klingon or Federation crews as simply none had survived the encounter. Keelzy continued her briefing,

“As the Borg became a bigger and bigger threat, ourselves and two other races joined forces and created theAlliance. Our main agenda was the defeat of the Borg threat. For a long time we pushed the Borg back until they changed their tactics on us”

“How do you mean changed tactics”?

Another click of the remote and the screen changed again. This time it showed an image of a Talus-Qual but infected and fused with Borg looking technology.

“They started using biological and electronic hybrid technologies. Turn around for their troops was speeded up by ninety percent. They were no longer dependable on raw materials to make more Borg”.

Kellzy and the others all looked incredibly sad now. Thelev could tell that this must have been the turning point of the war and losses were probably atrocious.

“They quite literally used our own people against us”. They spread quicker than before and overwhelmed theAlliance. Our last hope was the Sulgat. It was to be our escape from the Borg”.

“So what happened”? Thelev asked.

 

 … … … …

 

Back in his Ready Room Thelev is sat with his department heads. He has just finishing up his debrief of what he learnt over on the Talus-Qual ship.

“The planet we are in orbit around was the staging ground for the refugee armada. After abandoning it, they nuked it from space to eradicate any evidence of what they had planed so the Borg couldn’t track them as they go through the gate”.

Thelev switches the view monitor to show a blue print of a reinforced bunker that is still be on the planet’s surface.

“This would contain a subspace relay that would transmit a self-destruct signal to the Gate after they passed through it. However, because of a malfunction, the signal was sent only after the Barack and Q’Nar came through. They don’t know why it had such a large delay”.

Commander Tilko raises his hand to ask a question. Thelev gives him the nod of approval.

“So what happened, how come they didn’t go through”?

“Basically the Borg caught wind of it and sent four ships to intercept”. The Captain replied “In the battle they destroyed all but six of the Talus-Qual ships and in turn lost three of their own. The fourth went through the gate and ended up in the Alpha Quadrant”.

Lt Milne raises his hand this time. “I suppose the Borg were interested to see where the conduit would lead”.

“After they tested the Alpha Quadrant they simply returned to report. A side effect of the gate is that if you keep a sub space signal open it keeps you on a rope to your old quadrant. The Borg knew this from some assimilated Talus. Once it had what it wanted from our side it just simply jumped back”. Thelev continues, “but Kellzy’s ships were waiting and destroyed it as it came through the gate.

Smithy had this entire time been stood taking a closer look at the view screen,

“It says here that the Borg can adapt their shielding to any frequency of energy weapons. So how did the Talus-Qual take out so many ships”?

The captain switches the screen to show a detailed cross section of Talus-Qual torpedo. Smithy could see that it was a basic hardened carbon fibre shell packed with near nuclear explosives and a timer. The idea was so simple it was genius, because the Borg’s shields are designed to scan and repel any ‘energy’ signature they were useless against what can only be described as cannon shells. Looking at the stats closer the chief could see they are launched via a rail gun system and would dig the shells into the armour of the enemy’s hull then explode.

“Fascinating” he finally said, “I can retro fit the current stock of Photon torpedoes to do something similar. I can negatively magnetise the launches to spit out the Torpedoes then the sensors can activate them as they pass the Borg shield. Not perfect but may do the job”?

“Good stuff chief. Get your men starting on it now,” Thelev answers.

“So do you think the Borg will spread to the Alpha Quadrant? Do we even have a plan Captain”? Lt Bristow asks.

The captain smiles as he looks at his Helmsman, “They know there is a wealth of life there so yes they’ll make the trip. And as for a plan” he smiles “Don’t we always”?

 … … … …

 

Within no time, the crew of the Barak were running from department to department readying the ship for their upcoming mission. Kellzy had come aboard with around sixty Talus-Qual children that had been rescued from the armada before it was destroyed. Kellzy had made Thelev aware that a second gate was hidden in a nebular not far from here. This was the prototype gate but was only able to transport one ship before burning out. The captain had agreed to take the children so that their race could continue in the Alpha quadrant. Because of this, the Barak would be the one allowed to return and the remaining Talus-Qual ships would hold off the Borg while they escaped. Kellzy had uploaded all the security and activation codes for the Gate. The nebular lay across from a Borg sentry base on a nearby Moon. Together both she and Thelev tried to work out a plan to sneak across without the Borg detecting them.

 

 … … … …

 

They were now located in the Astro-Metric lab aboard Kellzy’s ship. The electronic map stretched out across the surface of the table.

“I just don’t see how we can get to the Nebular without the Borg picking us up” Thelev mumbled to himself.

“The best course of action is that you simply make a run for it at maximum warp” Kellzy muses, “When you get close enough activate the Gate and go straight through. We will hold off the one Borg ship that is in that sector”.

“But once the Borg know the prototype Gates location what’s stopping them from just back engineering the technology”?

“Quite simply Captain there will be no Sulgate to study. A conduit can be opened in the nebula but once it closes it creates a negative pressure so strong the Sulgat will be crushed to the size of this table” she replied.

Thelev turns to look at her. In the short time they had spent together, he had grown to have much affection for her bravery. “And what about you”? he asks.

“It’s a standard Borg destroyer in that sector; between the six of us we should be able to kill it. Once we know you’re through the gate we’ll go to high warp and try to hide as long as we can”.

Her head drops and she tries to remain calm and not give away her true feelings of fear.

“As long as the children go with you then our race will continue. Our sacrifice will not be for nothing”.

“Leader Kellzy” the intercom interrupted the silence, “long range scanners have picked up a new ship by the Moon on our flight path”

“Patch the data to Astro-Metrics” she orders.

On the screen in front of them is a blow up of the moon and a Borg station in orbit. Attached to the station is an unknown class of Borg ship.

“I’ll reroute some more power to the scanners to get a better look” Kellzy says as she types in some commands

The image becomes clearer and they finally see it for what it is. In front of them is a ship never before recorded by the Talus-Qual. The ship was again huge compared to the USS Barak and its shape is a perfect cube.

 … … … …

 

The Barak and the Talus fleet hid close to a giant asteroid near to their staging post. Kellzy had informed them that the minerals in the rock would help shield them from long range Borg scans.

“Final survivors have been beamed aboard captain,” Milne confirmed, “Shall I inform the fleet we’re ready to ship out”?

“Yes” Thelev replies as he turns to his Helmswoman, “Bristow prepare to disengage and take us to maximum warp”

“Kellzy is hailing us sir; she is requesting a private channel”

“That’s fine, just play it here” Thelev responds and Kellzy’s face appears.

“Captain I just wanted to say good luck and that we’ll be right on your tail” She smiles at him as she continues. “Also thank you for taking the children, it means everything to us that our race continues”.

“Hey as far as I’m concerned as soon as we’re in the Alpha Quadrant I’ll make sure a fleet is sent back to rescue the rest of you somehow”. Thelev leans forward to the screen, “Just make sure you stay hidden okay”?

“Captain if this Borg Cube is as formable as our scans are picking up I’d image our small fleet won’t exist for long. Just make sure you get through the Sulgat”. Kellzy allows herself one last smile as she signs off.

The captain leans back in his seat, so much was riding on this flimsy plan. He couldn’t help but be worried. All the lives rested in his leadership. Not just the crew but also the forty children he had taking on which represented the last of a whole race. He closes his eyes for a moment to control his breathing. He issued the order to disembark. The Barak and Talus fleet were now in high warp heading towards the nebular. Milne had been ordered to give a tactical update every thirty seconds.

“Captain, the Borg Cube has spotted us. She has gone to warp. ATA is 160 seconds”.

“Helm what is the time to the Gate”?

“Dropping from warp now captain, we’re a two minutes from the Gate. We’re at maximum impulse”. Came Lt Bristow’s reply.

The signal had already been sent to the Sulgat to power up. The time between the Barak arriving and the gate at full power with minimal. One other problem was that the prototype Sulgat was not much bigger that the Barak herself. Bristow would have to thread the eye of the needle at a dangerous speed.

“Captain the Talus fleet has engaged the Cube”

Within a couple of seconds of making Thelev aware of this Lt Milne had already put it up on screen. They could see the enormous Cube taking up most of the screen. It was dotted with explosions of from the Talus torpedoes. It did not look like they were slowing it down any as after every explosion the ship seemed to heal itself.

“What the hell is that thing”? Thelev says to himself.

The cube continued on its intercept of the Barak and allowed the other alien fleet to take their best shot.

“15 seconds to the Gate Captain” Bristow informed.

It looked like they would make it. The Gates was quickly approaching and Bristow had lined the ship up nicely.

“Sir they are…”

Milne tried to finish his sentence but it was too late. The Borg cube had fired eight photon torpedoes at the Barack. The speed and the precise manner of the shots stunned them. Within a few seconds, the ship was rocked with explosions. The first three torpedoes had downed the shields. Another four had hit the rear sections of the ship. Down below crew members and the children are sucked out of the breaches into the cold of space through the gaping holes left by the destruction of the bulkheads. The final and eighth torpedo hit the port nacelle. It exploded with a violate show of energy and light. It was enough to spin the Barack off its course. Back on the bridge Thelev and his men could do nothing to control the ship. On the main screen, Thelev watched as he realised that the ship would hit the outer ring of the gate. His life didn’t flash before him, he wasn’t scared. In the seconds that past, it felt like a lifetime. All he could think about was the children he still thought were onboard and his late wife. What was left of the USS Barack slammed into the outer ring of the Sulgat. The resulting explosion was enough to take out a chunk of the Borg cube and destroy five of the Talus-Qual ships. Kellzy’s own ship had been on the far side of the Cube, which had shielded them. Stunned she watches on the view screen in her heavily damaged bridge, her whole bridge crew looked just as shocked. The only thing that brought them back to reality was the green glow and heavy thud of the Borg tractor beam. Within seconds, three Borg humanoids had beamed onto her bridge. The lead Borg grabs the female captain by the head and plunged his cold sharp mental tubes into her neck. All she can feel is something being pumped into her bloodstream before passing out. The last thing she hears is the voice of the Borg holding her.

“Royal protocol activated, resistance is futile”

 

THE END

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