Tensions

This is my newest sampler of different crews, this one takes place during the time of TNG, at around 2366 onboard the Copernicus-Class Echo Station. Located in a remote region, densely populated with non-allied species, it is a region of great potential as well as great calamity. Many races have been bickering or fighting for years, some of which threatens to escalate further.

The role of Echo and her crew is to help establish and maintain the peace, to work with the native races that want help and foster good relations with the Federation. This would be the kind of place Picard would have been ideal for, where words and discussion are the weapons of choice.

* * * * *

Star Trek: Echo

Tensions
Brydon J. Sinclair


“This is outrageous!” Ll’soepo, the Pll’ekesh dignitary, bellowed banging a pair of tentacles on the tabletop and casting off droplets of epidermal mucus in every direction.

Captain Khadir Deo felt several hit his cheek, but managed to suppress a shudder as the thick liquid started to run down to his chin, whilst keeping his hands calmly clasped on the table in front of him—he didn’t want to show any sign of disrespect to the representative he was hosting on Echo Station. Lieutenant Taell likewise didn’t flinch. Kreyt, the feathered Betellian opposite the outraged envoy, wasn’t quite as considerate.

He used his clawed hands to wipe the slime off of his puffed out chest and shook it onto the ground, flaring the crimson feathers around his neck out and shaking his head disparagingly—which only made Ll’soepo’s smaller tentacles quiver with annoyance.

“Those are our terms, take it or leave it.”

“Your ‘terms’ are nothing more than an ultimatum—which we will never concede to.”

“Then the histories will show that you started this war.”

“Ambassadors,” Deo interjected, “surely this situation can be resolved without descending to bloodshed. Neither side would gain anything by going to war. All it would accomplish is draining your resources and drag the every other race in the sector down a dark path.”

The diplomats didn’t acknowledge him, instead they kept glowering at each other across the square table. Neither side would back down; getting them to meet in the first place had taken Taell almost two weeks of constant negotiations and discussions to arrange—all over an old star system with just two lifeless rocks orbiting a dying star. Both sides lay claims to the system, the only importance of which was as a strategic outpost against the other, though the Pll’ekesh claimed they wanted to study the star and the Betellian wanted it for mining opportunities.

Deo had read the full survey report Lieutenant Zi-Vehless, his chief science officer, had provided him and could see that the neither the star nor the planetoids had anything remotely interesting about them. But his job wasn’t to decide on the merit of each sides claim to the system; he was to get them to reach a compromise that would keep the entire region from falling into chaos. If the Pll’ekesh and Betellian went to war, their neighbours would ultimately be dragged in, forced to choose sides and throw all their resources into fighting—something the younger space-faring races couldn’t achieve without crippling their entire planetary infrastructure.

“I will not remain here and be baited,” Ll’soepo stated before gargling something in its native tongue (though the universal translator didn’t catch it, Deo could guess just what the gist of it was), then turned and slithered out one of the exits. As the Pll’ekesh left so too did the Betellian, neither one saying another word to the two Starfleet officers.

Once the doors slid closed behind the two ambassadors, Deo sat back on his chair, wiping the lingering mucus off his face with the cuff of his jacket, whilst Taell propped his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands.

There was a long moment of silence, neither man speaking. Deo reflected on how their meeting had gone. He had faced his fair share of difficult meetings and negotiations, but this was definitely one of the toughest. Both sides didn’t seem like they wanted to make peace, but rather were using what few talks they did have, with Starfleet acting as mediators, as more of an excuse to go to war with one another.

“I think I finally understand why you’ve not been able to get much traction on these talks, Lieutenant,” he admitted to the Rigellian-SPECIES.

“This is them on a good day,” Aaydehn Taell said, standing up and stretching.

Deo let out a single humourless laugh as he looked up at the strapping young diplomatic officer. “If that’s the case I’ll have to put you in for a medal.”

Taell sat on the edge of the table, folding his arms across his chest. “If war is inevitable, how bad do you think it will get?”

“Both sides have half a dozen allies who’d provide them with military support, not to mention smaller races who be forced to help out or face losing trading partners. Then there are ones who will try to stay out of it, but will be dragged in if either side uses their territory for military manoeuvres, whilst independent worlds will become battlegrounds.

“To be honest, Lieutenant, I’d be surprised if there were any species left out of the fighting in some way.”

Taell shook his head then ran his fingers through his thick blond hair, tucking it behind his pointed ears. “It’ll be a bloodbath, and our mission here will be seen as a failure.”

Deo had to admit he’d had the same thought. Echo was there to help build relations between the Federation and the indigenous races of the REGION, as well as be used as a place to foster peace between the numerous warp-capable species. In the twelve months since the base had gone operational and he had assumed command, they had made some significant progress, stopping one decades old war and preventing another from starting, whilst establishing trade links with several species, shared cultural exchanges, helped with a planetary famine, and helped stabilise the interstellar politics of the remote region. Of course there were those who resented their presence, wanting to be the dominant authority, but Deo had made a point of telling every race that came to them that Echo was there to help not take over.

Then you got old enemies like the Pll’ekesh and Betellian, who had spent more time at war over the last two centuries than they had at peace. If things did spiral out of control between them, the best Deo could hope to achieve would be to keep the fighting just between them, to try and convince the allies not to take up arms.

Deo sighed with frustration. “I don’t understand why they’ve become so interested in this system all of a sudden. There is nothing there for them to study or mine, so why are both sides so intent on it.”

“Especially with it being in the Yisi Zone,” added Taell.

“‘Yisi Zone’?” Deo had joined the mediation when the delegates had arrived at the station, determined to make sure they succeeded—up until then it had been Lieutenant Taell who had seen to the hard graft and leg work, as such he wasn’t fully up to speed with all the intricacies of the history, other than the broad strokes.

“Sixty years ago they signed a historic agreement, which declared neither race would cross into a small strip of space between their territories, which is the Yisi Zone—named for the planet the talks were held on—or else it was an immediate declaration of war.”

“What was different about those talks? How did they ever reach a consensus?”

“That is unclear,” he admitted, before a small smile tugged at his lips. “However, I do have a contact in the Pll’ekesh Archives, someone who could send me through their official records or the talks as well as a scan of the original treaty.”

Deo raised an eyebrow. “This better not be something illegal, Lieutenant.”

“Perish the thought, Captain. The Archives is one of the most highly regarded institutions on Pll’eka—given how much their love their record keeping—and all the information if available for public access, though it is frowned upon for non-Pll’ekesh to view them they haven’t amended the rules for such access.”

“Mm-hmm. Seems a little underhanded.”

“I know, but right now we don’t have much else in our favour. Though I don’t like looking for loopholes, it may give us something we can work with.”

“Would your contact be willing to do this?”

“They want war about as much as we do, if what they have on file could bring an end to the current hostilities, then I think my contact would be very willing to help.”

Deo thought about it for a moment longer. Though the reasoning was somewhat pedantic, the information would be a huge boost for them, something that could save thousands of lives, even at the risk of annoying the Pll’ekesh.

He gave a nod. “Ask if they’d be willing to help. If they say yes, then get what you can.”

“Aye sir,” he said with a small nod, before he too left the conference room.

* * * * *

The mood in the operations centre was subdued, which was never a good sign.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Fezil began from the command table in the middle of ops, “we have both the Pll’ekesh and Betellian delegations asking for immediate permission to depart. Their cruisers are also moving in closer. I take it the talks didn’t go well.”

“They did not,” he stated, then looked over at Lieutenant JG B'Ndek't, who manned tactical. “Are either of their ships powering weapons?”

“Negative, Captain, they are just altering their position,” the Xenexian stated.

He turned to communications. “Lieutenant Dixon, open a channel to both diplomatic shuttle and cruisers.”

She nodded and quickly opened the channel, giving him a nod when it was ready.

“Delegate shuttles, this is Captain Deo. You have permission to depart. I must remind you, this system is Federation territory, and as such it is my responsibility to keep this station and all those onboard safe at all costs. Any aggressive action displayed at you cruisers will be met with force.” With that he looked at Dixon and drew his thumb across his neck.

The chief comm officer nodded when the channel was cut.

“They wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack Echo, would they?” Fezil asked him, her forehead ridges darkening.

“Maybe not intentionally, Commander, but we’re between them and if they open fire they may not opt for precision strikes.”

The Denobulan nodded. “B’Ndek’t, stand ready on shields and phasers.”

“Aye sir.”

Deo’s eyes were fixed on the tabletop display, praying that neither ship captain was willing to risk a fight with Starfleet just to take pot-shots at their rival. If it came down to a fight, all thoughts of being a neutral mediator were wiped from his mind, his primary concern became the two thousand people who made Echo their home or port of call. When faced with tense moments such as these, Nvadti, Tegradtik and Ryjshend, his wife and two youngest sons, twenty levels below him, filled his thoughts for a split-second, but he quickly shook them away.

The display showed a small red and green dot move away from the station in the centre of the display, heading towards similarly coloured triangles, besides which scrolled key data. Neither ship had raised its shields, nor were there any power spikes indicative of weapons being charged. Everything seemed to go quiet as the crew waited, hoping for nothing to happen but tensed for if it did.

The shuttles reached their ships, followed by a momentary pause.

Don’t do it, he willed them.

A sensor chirped at tactical. All eyes locked onto the junior lieutenant.

“Both ships are withdrawing, sir.”

Deo let out a breath and nodded. “Keep an active sensor lock on both of them until they clear the system, let them know we’re still watching.”

“Yes sir.”

As the ops crew collectively relaxed, except for B’Ndek’t, Fezil moved around the table to stand beside him, keeping her voice low. “So what happened with them?”

“The Betellians came to the table, willing to give the Pll’ekesh the system, in exchanged for ceding all claim to three of their mining outposts on their border. As you can imagine that didn’t go anywhere. Honestly, I think the only reason they want to meet in person is because they get fed up screaming at each other over subspace.”

“The Betelli aren’t taking the talks seriously then.”

“The Pll’ekesh are no better, their only solution is for the Betelli to allow them full and unrestricted access to the system for ten years for scientific study, after which they would be willing to hand it over to them for the a decade to mine.

“Aaydehn is researching the last time they made any kind of treaty to see if there is something we could use here—if he can get the data he needs,” he noticed the questioning look on Fezil’s face. “It’s best not to ask, Commander.”

“I’m almost afraid too.” She looked back at the display, which was all clear. “The Constantine was holding position between their territories, should we alert them to the breakdown of the talks?”

“Though I’m sure Captain Jurex is watching their borders like a hawk, it wouldn’t hurt to let them know. Also notify the Wayfarer, they may not be in the sector, but if things do get out of hand they could find themselves in hot water.”

Fezil nodded and set about her task. Deo quickly scanned ops and noted that all the crew were returning to their normal duties, the tension of the standoff having eased and thoughts of what might have happened quickly overridden with what they needed to be doing. Every time they faced the difficulties that presented themselves, he found himself bristling with pride at how his crew handled it—they had all come here from different paths, but they were all committed to the mission they were on.

Satisfied that they weren’t about to be in the middle of a shooting gallery quite yet, he took a seat at the table and started to look over the data they had on the Pll’ekesh and Betellian, wanting to garner as much information on the two races as he could before their next meeting.

* * * * *

When Deo had entered his quarters at the end of his shift, he had given Nvadti a tight embrace, holding her as though he was adrift in an ocean and she was a life preserver. She held him close, knowing that him well enough to know that it had been a hard day.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked softly.

“Maybe later. For right now, I just want to try and forget about this day.”

“Dad!” came the excited call from his sons’ doorway.

He parted from his wife and looked over to see Ryjshend, his youngest, darting across the living room and straight into him. The sudden impact, not to mention the stab of the boys horns winded him for a moment, before scooping him up into his arms and kissing him on the cheek.

“Go easy, Ry, your old man’s not that thick skinned.”

The boy blushed and looked saddened for an instant. “Sorry Dad.”

“I know you are, just be careful with those things,” he said, tapping the vertical row of four small horns on Ryjshend’s forehead.

“I will.”

Just then, Tegradtik emerged from their room, face buried in a PADD. He looked up long enough to register the arrival of his father and mutter, “Hey Dad.”

“Evening Teg. How was the physics test?”

The older boy shrugged. “Ok, I guess.”

Nvadti appeared by her husband’s side again, handing him a mug of jasmine tea. “You got two more words than I did,” she commented, which made their youngest giggle and Tegradtik roll his eyes.

“Those sessions with Vita helped,” he admitted. “It was pretty easy after all we’d gone over.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know when she gets back,” he said, silently thanking Vita Zi-Vehless for offering to tutor Teg.

Deo knew that raising half-Ktarian offspring would be hard, given how rapidly they developed in their formative years. Tegradtik was only eight Earth years old, but that was equivalent to a fifteen or sixteen year old for Ktarians, whilst little Ryjshend was two going on five. It was how their daughter, Ltahlvta, was would be graduating from the Academy in the Spring. It was the reason he had specialised in starbase duty, so that he could spend as much time as possible with his family before they grew up too quickly and went out on their own.

“Boys, get the table set, dinner is just about ready.”

Deo let Ry back on the floor then inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the warm aroma of his wife’s handmade meal. “Ktarian egg pasta with Risian meatballs,” he said, his mouth watering.

“You and that bloodhound nose of yours,” commented the chef, kissing him on the cheek. Her restaurant at the Marketplace was highly regarded for her unique menu combinations, all made by hand with all-fresh ingredients, making it one of the most popular eateries on the station—though no dish made it onto the tables in Nvadti’s Kitchen until she had tried out on her family, who were guaranteed to give her an honest answer.

He sipped his tea as the door chime sounded.

“The neighbours must be hungry,” he said as she headed back into their small kitchen, chuckling. “Enter.”

The doors parted and he was surprised to see Lieutenant Taell standing there, a grin on his face and PADD in hand. “I hope I’m not interrupting, Captain.”

“Come in, Lieutenant.”

The Rigellian-SPECIES entered and approached him quickly. “My contact got back to me twenty minutes ago and I’ve got something that might be very helpful.”

“Evening Aaydehn,” Nvadti said, stepping out of the kitchen carrying the pot of pasta. “Would you care to join us?”

“Hello Nvadti. I can’t I’m afraid, a little too busy this evening.”

“Are you sure? Its Risian meatballs.”

Deo heard the lieutenant’s stomach growl and couldn’t help but smile, though he suspected that the diplomats’ findings may tear him away from dinner with his family that evening too.

“We’ll be a minute,” he said to his family and led Taell into his small office. “What did you find out?”

“The planet where they made their last treaty—”

“Yisi?”

“Yes. It’s inhabited; a warp-capable species that was advanced enough to tip the scales if war broke out. The Yisi called the conference to safeguard their neutrality. They set up the buffer zone, with the explicit understanding that if either race entered it with hostile intent they would side against them. The aggressor wouldn’t stand a chance against the two combined.”

“So why violate the treaty now, especially over such an insignificant system?”

“That I still can’t answer, Captain.”

“Have you contacted the Yisi?”

“Yes sir.”

“And?”

“There was no response.”

“No response?”

“Dixon is still working on trying to establish a link, but all her efforts are being met with silence.”

“Deo to Dixon.”

“Dixon here, go ahead.”

“Lieutenant, any luck in contacting the Yisi yet?”

“Still nothing, sir. I’ve run through all frequencies and band widths, even tried bouncing our signal off relay stations. They don’t seem like they want to talk.”

“What’s the position of the Thames?” The runabout Thames had been taken out by Doctor Elliott and Lieutenant Zi-Vehless to run a bio-survey on Ekess II. Last he’d heard they had wrapped up and were heading back to Echo.

“They’re very close, sir. Ten hours and they could be in the Yisi System.”

“Contact them and have them divert, maximum warp.”

“Aye sir.”

“Keep trying the Yisi until we hear back from the Thames. Deo out.”

He looked back at Taell. “I’d like you to transfer all we have on the Yisi to my terminal; I’ll start studying up on them.”

The Rigellian tapped a button on his PADD. “Done.”

“Until we hear from either the Yisi or the Thames, I’d like you to try and get the Pll’ekesh and Betellian back to the table.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Well then I know it’s in very capable hands, Lieutenant.”

Taell gave him a small smile. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Though you shouldn’t work on an empty stomach, and Nvadti always makes enough to feed half the station.”

His stomach growled again. “That sounds great, thank you.”

* * * * *

“Report Lieutenant,” Deo addressed Vita Zi-Vehless, his sciences chief onboard the U.S.S. Thames.

“Sir, we’ve run a full scan of the Yisi homeworld,” the young Efrosian began, a haunted look behind her eyes. “I must regretfully report that there are no signs of life.”

“What?!” he spluttered. Fezil and Taell beside him looked equally shocked. “The Yisi have been wiped out?”

“It’s worse than that, Captain,” interjected Doctor Takoda Elliott from beside Zi-Vehless. “When Vita says ‘no signs of life’, she means any life. All sentient, animal and plant life has been wiped off the face of the planet.”

All noise in ops seemed to stop, even the gently hiss of the life support systems couldn’t be heard. The officers and crew looked at one another, stunned and unable to believe what they were being told.

“How is that possible?” he asked, his voice softer than he would’ve liked.

“There are no signs of planetary bombardment or natural disaster, sir,” Zi-Vehless told the silent room. “I’d suspect either some kind of biological or chemical attack or viral mutation.”

“We’d need to take samples to know for sure,” added Elliott.

“No!” he snapped. “I don’t want anyone beamed down to or anything beamed up from that planet. Gather all the sensor data you can, launch a probe if you have any spare, then return to the station. We’ll have to put together a full biohazard team to return for closer inspection.”

“Understood. We’ll be on site for another few hours, though should be ready to depart by fourteen hundred.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Be careful out there, both sides are spoiling for a fight and might not care about who they’re shooting at.”

“Acknowledged. Thames out.”

The channel closed and, for the second time in as many days, Deo was faced with a silent operations centre. He looked around at them, wishing he knew something inspiring to say to get them back on track, but his mind was drawing a blank. He had never experienced genocide before so he suspected (correctly) that none of the others around him had either.

He cleared his throat, which drew all eyes to him. “This is a tough thing to deal with, but we need to find answers, so I need you all to stay focused and pull out all the stops. We will get to the bottom of this, of that I can assure you.” There were a few nods of agreement or understanding, but there were just as many blank stares. He looked at the senior officers in ops. “Conference.”

He led them out of ops and into his main office. He wanted to keep this brief, devise a plan and then get back on track as soon as possible—the crew needed to know what they had to do and that had to come from his command staff. He perched on the end of his desk whilst Fezil, Dixon, Taell, Lieutenant Riku Kimura (his chief of station operations), and B’Ndek’t stood in a semi circle before him.

“Options?” he started them off.

“Until we get a full biohazard team out there and do a thorough survey of what’s left then we’re shooting in the dark,” stated Fezil.

“Agreed. I want you to put a team together and be ready to depart as soon as the Thames returns. Dixon, alert Starfleet Medical of the situation and see if they can spare a research ship.” Both women nodded.

“Could this be something the Betellian or Pll’ekesh have done?” suggested B’Ndek’t.

“To what end?” asked Kimura.

“To go to war with the other.”

“Why wouldn’t the ones behind it not just launch a full scale invasion then?” Dixon queried. “Why all the subterfuge over an unimportant system?”

“To legitimise their attack.”

Deo stroked his chin. “I’m not convinced, but it is a possibility, one worth looking at further.”

“How could no one realise the Yisi had been wiped out?” Fezil demanded, placing her hands staunchly on her hips.

“From what I’ve heard,” began Taell, “neither side had much need to contact the Yisi. The Yisi had made it very clear they wanted nothing to do with either of them, whilst their trade with other species was non-existent. Not quite xenophobic, they never saw much need to interact with other planets.”

“This could be a naturally occurring virus that mutated unexpectedly and they couldn’t counteract it,” said Deo, wanting to keep them looking at all possibilities. “With no solid contacts among other races, they wouldn’t know who they could rely upon to help them so they never called for help.”

Kimura ran his hand over his buzz cut. “If it’s not natural, the Betellian or the Pll’ekesh, who else could it have been?”

“Threat assessments haven’t indicated any race in a ten light-year radius capable of such huge-scale biological warfare,” B’Ndek’t told them.

“Start looking further afield, Lieutenant. Mr Kimura, I want you to prep the Severn for full biohazard protocols. Commander, co-ordinate with Lieutenant Suuna and Counsellor Teris, let them know the situation and that tensions will undoubtedly be high—they may both get a lot busier as rumours start to circulate and paranoia sets in.

“Lieutenant Taell, contact the Pll’ekesh and Betellian again, priority one. Tell them we have a serious situation and they need to return to Echo immediately to help resolve it. Don’t give away any details; I want to see how they react to the news of the Yisi.”

He paused and looked at the five officers before him. Dixon and Taell had been onboard since the station was commissioned, with Fezil, Kimura and B’Ndek’t all coming aboard within the last twelve months, but all of them had shown themselves to be conscientious, hard-working and professional, traits he knew the others on his staff shared. They were all people he could rely upon up until now, so hoped they could see it through this situation as well—even if it did push them further than ever before.

“Let’s get to it.”

* * * * *

END