Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Chapter Twenty three
Stardate 54077.6 (3 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
Standard orbit - Thurilin's Moon
"Admiral, would you care to take the conn while I go check on our 'guest?'" asked Akinola.
Bateson looked both surprised and pleased at the request. "I'd be honored - Thank you, Captain!"
"XO, please watch the Admiral and make sure he doesn't break anything," ordered Akinola with a straight face.
Inga nodded. "Like a hawk, sir!" she replied with a grin.
"That's right," Bateson responded, dryly, "make fun of the old fossil. Would it make you happier if I sat on my hands?"
Akinola's face broke into a crooked grin. "That won't be necessary, sir." He looked toward the Operations station. "Nigel! Begin scans of the moon's surface. Look for any kind of surface installation or an indication of under-ground facilities. This old moon was once a major mining operation, so there are plenty of places for Garth to hide."
"Aye, sir," acknowledged Lt. Bane.
"The bridge is yours, Admiral. I'll be down in the brig."
* * *
Consciousness slowly pushed back the darkness that enveloped Tilos. As his awareness grew, so did the pain and nausea. His head pounded, his chest felt like he'd been hit with a sledge-hammer, and he had a metallic taste in his mouth.
He heard a voice say, "Give him the stim-shot, Sandy."
Tilos felt pressure against his neck and heard the hiss of a hypo-spray. The pain and nausea abated somewhat and he immediately felt more alert. He attempted to open his eyes, but a bright light was shining in his face. He squinted and blinked, trying to make out his surroundings. It was apparent that he was secured tightly to some sort of chair. His arms were immobile as were his ankles.
The voice spoke again. "You are a prisoner on the Border Service cutter, USS Bluefin. You're facing numerous charges at the moment, not the least of which is firing on a Starfleet vessel. I must tell you that you are not protected by Federation rights of due process unless and until you reveal your identity and we can confirm that you are a citizen of the Federation. Do you understand me?"
Tilos remained silent.
The voice continued. The tone was calm, neither angry nor perturbed. "Since my combadge contains a universal translator and our initial medical assessment indicates that you are capable of hearing, I must assume that you are refusing to cooperate. Very well, then. I will save us time by telling you what we know and what we want from you. However, before I do that, I will give you time to reflect on your situation. Enjoy the music."
Tilos frowned slightly. Music?
Suddenly, a cacophony of sound assaulted his ears. Instinctively, Tilos tried to bring his hands up to cover his head, but they were secured behind him. Turning his head from side to side didn't help, either - the noise filled the cell, crashing over him in waves. It was indescribably loud and hideous!
Akinola pulled the sound-proof door shut, cutting off the sound of a popular Klingon opera from Solly's collection of music files. Shaking his head, he looked at the Red Orion Senior Chief. "You actually like that, Solly?"
Solly looked slightly surprised. "Well, sure I do, Skipper! It's got culture, you know."
"So does a petri dish of bacteria," observed the Captain.
* * *
The two security ratings at the brig's control station spoke quietly, a few meters away from the Captain and Brin.
"Twenty credits says he breaks in ten minutes," said Crewman Murphy.
"Hah! More like five minutes," replied Petty Officer Eisenbaum.
"You're on," replied Murphy, who glanced at the chronometer. "But that guy looked pretty tough to me."
Eisenbaum glanced at his partner. "So, how long could you take it, Murph?"
Murphy grimaced. "Are you kidding? That Klingon stuff sounds like someone's skinning a live cat with a dull knife, with photon torpedoes for percussion! I can't take more than about 15 seconds!"
"Huh!" Responded Eisenbaum. "I always thought it sounded like someone being disemboweled while gargling acid."
"Nah, you're thinking of Tellarite ballet."
"Oh yeah, right."
* * *
Admiral Bateson enjoyed the rare privilege of sitting in the center seat of one of his cutters. He often missed commanding a ship, but he knew he was in the right place, serving as squadron commander.
At the moment, the bridge was quiet, very different from the drama that played out a mere hour earlier. The viewscreen showed the gray, pock-marked surface of the moon, passing languidly below. A more cheerless place would be hard to find.
"Anything, Lt. Bane?" asked Bateson.
Bane turned and shook his head. "Nothing yet, sir. We'll complete surface scans in about fifteen minutes, then start working our way deeper into the moon. It may take a while," he added, apologetically.
"Carry on, then," replied Bateson. He remembered well the old saying about Starship duty - long periods of tedium punctuated by moments of sheer terror.
"Sir!" Bane suddenly exclaimed. "Two vessels de-cloaking on our port and starboard bow!"
Bateson stood, peering intently at the screen. He was about to order the ship to red alert, when he recognized the vessels. His initial anxiety turned to irritation.
Two Defiant - class ships joined the Bluefin in orbit, flanking the cutter and matching her speed. Bateson did not need to see the registries to know who operated those ships.
"We're being hailed, Admiral," announced Bane.
Bateson nodded. "Wait one, Lieutenant." He turned to Strauss. "Commander, if you would be so kind, please raise the shields - I trust those people about as far as I can throw this ship!"
"Acknowledged, sir. Shields up," replied Strauss, promptly. By the tone of his voice, the Admiral was obviously pissed!
"Alright, Mr. Bane, let's hear what they have to say." said Bateson as he crossed his arms.
* * *
It took Tilos a moment to realize that the interminable noise had stopped. The ringing in his ears still mocked him as a reminder that it could return.
The voice spoke once more. "I hope you've reconsidered cooperating with us. Shall we talk, or are you that much of an opera fan?"
"This is torture!" hissed Tilos, through clenched teeth.
"No," said the voice in a reasonable tone. "According to our Chief of the Boat, this is high art."
"Like Hell!" said Tilos, his voice still somewhat unsteady.
"This technique is from the field interrogation guide when dealing with enemy combatants - particularly those who fly combat vessels while wearing civilian clothing. I can assure you that you'll experience no lasting effects, but . . ." the voice paused, "I have to agree that it is an unpleasant experience. Now . . ." the voice came closer. "Let's start over. What is your name?"
Tilos bit his lip.
The voice uttered a sigh. "Very well. We've got a lot more files of this, so . . ."
"Tilos, Wayne E." the Major said in clipped tones.
There was no sound for a moment. Tilos wondered if he was alone. Then the voice spoke again. "Good. Wayne Tilos. Now we're getting somewhere!" There was another pause. "It says here, Wayne, that you are a former Marine Major, is that correct?"
Tilos said nothing, the muscles in his jaw tightened perceptibly.
"It also says, Wayne, that you are listed as MIA, presumed dead - were you aware of that, Wayne?"
"Now that you know who I am," growled Tilos, "You also know that I'm a Federation citizen. I don't have to say a word, especially without counsel."
The bright light suddenly went out. Tilos blinked as colored spots clouded his vision. In a moment, his eyes were able to focus. A dark-skinned man with graying hair and captain's pips on his color regarded him impassively.
"You're half right, Mr. Tilos," said Akinola. "But let me add something for you to chew on." The Captain leaned in, his nose nearly touching Tilos'.
"Your status has changed from MIA, presumed dead, to deserter, Mr. Tilos. And I happen to know that the Marine Corps still has two capital offenses in their regs - desertion and treason. I'm betting they might get you on both - what do you think? Ready to face a firing-squad?"
The muscles in Tilos' jaw began to twitch. He began to blink as perspiration rolled into his eyes, stinging them.
"Yessir, desertion during a time of war. How many of your men did you abandon, Mr. Tilos? You were a field-grade officer, after all, Mr. Tilos. Was it hard for you to just bug out? Did you get so scared you just couldn't hack it? Did you start to cry for your Mommy? What's your excuse, you miserable piece of shit!?!"
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT THE FRAK UP!" Tilos erupted, straining against his restraints. His muscles bulged with the effort and murder filled his eyes. His chest heaved and his lips quivered. "You weren't there . . ." he murmured. "You weren't there!"
Akinola straightened, unperturbed. "Alright, Mr. Tilos - tell me about it. Help me understand why a Marine officer would abandon his men."
Tilos shook his head. "It wasn't like that." He took a hitching breath. "I was part of the expeditionary force to the Tyra system," he began quietly.
Akinola's expression remained stoic, but internally, he cringed. Tyra had been one of the worst Federation defeats during the war.
Tilos continued. "I was in command of two companies of Marines, plus a company of Klingon infantry. We dropped onto Tyra IV to attack a Jem"Hadar base and destroy their supply of Ketracel White. . . " He paused, his eyes distant. "They knew we were coming, somehow . . . My men, were pinned down by heavy fire . . . I called the Klingon Force-Commander for reinforcements . . . he ignored me, the bastard! He attempted a frontal assault on the facility and got himself and his warriors wiped out. For 'honor' I suppose." Tilos was breathing heavily, caught up in the horrible memory. "We called for extraction but, . . ." he shook his head, "our transport was gone - blown out of orbit. We were on our own." His eyes locked with Akinola's. "We were on our own!"
"What happened, son?" asked Akinola, gently.
Tilos frowned, remembering. "We held off the Jem'Hadar for two days, but they were smart - they knew we were cut-off. They bided their time, never giving us a chance to rest or regroup. Finally, well . . ." He swallowed, "It finally ended in a cluster frak. We were fighting hand-to-hand, with small arms, knives, even rocks. At some point, I was hit and blacked out . . . I don't know how long. When I came too, I was surrounded by bodies . . . the bodies of my men. There were no friendly vessels left . . . we'd been abandoned."
"So, how did you get out of there?"
"I waited a few days, there were field rations and water scattered about. I made my way to the Jem'Hadar base," he shook his head. "It was abandoned! Can you believe that? Hundreds of men died for that hole, and the Jem'Hadar didn't even keep it! Is that frakked up or what?" He paused, then continued, "I scouted around and found one of their shuttles - it was damaged but operational. I scavenged parts off a couple of their frakked-up shuttles and managed to get off that rock." He looked up at Akinola, a look of pleading in his eyes. "I didn't desert, Captain. The Klingons . . . our Fleet . . . they deserted us! . . ." He looked down. "After that . . . I . . . just took off. Somehow, I ended up in the Klaamet system and Commodore Garth found me . . . offered me a job." Tilos looked at Akinola with piercing eyes. "Garth understands the Klingons, Captain! Better than anyone! They're not our allies - they only care about their frakked up traditions and their stinking honor!"
Akinola squatted down, and stared at the former Marine officer. "Listen to me, Tilos. If what you said checks out, I swear to you, I'll go to bat for you . . . but, I need your help! Tell me where to find Garth!"
Tilos' face hardened. "Garth trusted me, Captain. He gave me a purpose again. I won't betray him."
"Son, let me give it to you straight - if we can get to Garth, stop him before he does something really stupid - there's a chance we can preserve his reputation and maybe save his life!
Tilos still looked unconvinced. Akinola's combadge chirped. He stood. "Akinola, go."
"Joseph, it's Bateson. It looks like some of our 'friends' have joined the party."
Akinola grimaced. "On my way, Akinola out." He looked at Tilos.
"Think about what I said. Our time may already be up!"
* * *
Chapter Twenty three
Stardate 54077.6 (3 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
Standard orbit - Thurilin's Moon
"Admiral, would you care to take the conn while I go check on our 'guest?'" asked Akinola.
Bateson looked both surprised and pleased at the request. "I'd be honored - Thank you, Captain!"
"XO, please watch the Admiral and make sure he doesn't break anything," ordered Akinola with a straight face.
Inga nodded. "Like a hawk, sir!" she replied with a grin.
"That's right," Bateson responded, dryly, "make fun of the old fossil. Would it make you happier if I sat on my hands?"
Akinola's face broke into a crooked grin. "That won't be necessary, sir." He looked toward the Operations station. "Nigel! Begin scans of the moon's surface. Look for any kind of surface installation or an indication of under-ground facilities. This old moon was once a major mining operation, so there are plenty of places for Garth to hide."
"Aye, sir," acknowledged Lt. Bane.
"The bridge is yours, Admiral. I'll be down in the brig."
* * *
Consciousness slowly pushed back the darkness that enveloped Tilos. As his awareness grew, so did the pain and nausea. His head pounded, his chest felt like he'd been hit with a sledge-hammer, and he had a metallic taste in his mouth.
He heard a voice say, "Give him the stim-shot, Sandy."
Tilos felt pressure against his neck and heard the hiss of a hypo-spray. The pain and nausea abated somewhat and he immediately felt more alert. He attempted to open his eyes, but a bright light was shining in his face. He squinted and blinked, trying to make out his surroundings. It was apparent that he was secured tightly to some sort of chair. His arms were immobile as were his ankles.
The voice spoke again. "You are a prisoner on the Border Service cutter, USS Bluefin. You're facing numerous charges at the moment, not the least of which is firing on a Starfleet vessel. I must tell you that you are not protected by Federation rights of due process unless and until you reveal your identity and we can confirm that you are a citizen of the Federation. Do you understand me?"
Tilos remained silent.
The voice continued. The tone was calm, neither angry nor perturbed. "Since my combadge contains a universal translator and our initial medical assessment indicates that you are capable of hearing, I must assume that you are refusing to cooperate. Very well, then. I will save us time by telling you what we know and what we want from you. However, before I do that, I will give you time to reflect on your situation. Enjoy the music."
Tilos frowned slightly. Music?
Suddenly, a cacophony of sound assaulted his ears. Instinctively, Tilos tried to bring his hands up to cover his head, but they were secured behind him. Turning his head from side to side didn't help, either - the noise filled the cell, crashing over him in waves. It was indescribably loud and hideous!
Akinola pulled the sound-proof door shut, cutting off the sound of a popular Klingon opera from Solly's collection of music files. Shaking his head, he looked at the Red Orion Senior Chief. "You actually like that, Solly?"
Solly looked slightly surprised. "Well, sure I do, Skipper! It's got culture, you know."
"So does a petri dish of bacteria," observed the Captain.
* * *
The two security ratings at the brig's control station spoke quietly, a few meters away from the Captain and Brin.
"Twenty credits says he breaks in ten minutes," said Crewman Murphy.
"Hah! More like five minutes," replied Petty Officer Eisenbaum.
"You're on," replied Murphy, who glanced at the chronometer. "But that guy looked pretty tough to me."
Eisenbaum glanced at his partner. "So, how long could you take it, Murph?"
Murphy grimaced. "Are you kidding? That Klingon stuff sounds like someone's skinning a live cat with a dull knife, with photon torpedoes for percussion! I can't take more than about 15 seconds!"
"Huh!" Responded Eisenbaum. "I always thought it sounded like someone being disemboweled while gargling acid."
"Nah, you're thinking of Tellarite ballet."
"Oh yeah, right."
* * *
Admiral Bateson enjoyed the rare privilege of sitting in the center seat of one of his cutters. He often missed commanding a ship, but he knew he was in the right place, serving as squadron commander.
At the moment, the bridge was quiet, very different from the drama that played out a mere hour earlier. The viewscreen showed the gray, pock-marked surface of the moon, passing languidly below. A more cheerless place would be hard to find.
"Anything, Lt. Bane?" asked Bateson.
Bane turned and shook his head. "Nothing yet, sir. We'll complete surface scans in about fifteen minutes, then start working our way deeper into the moon. It may take a while," he added, apologetically.
"Carry on, then," replied Bateson. He remembered well the old saying about Starship duty - long periods of tedium punctuated by moments of sheer terror.
"Sir!" Bane suddenly exclaimed. "Two vessels de-cloaking on our port and starboard bow!"
Bateson stood, peering intently at the screen. He was about to order the ship to red alert, when he recognized the vessels. His initial anxiety turned to irritation.
Two Defiant - class ships joined the Bluefin in orbit, flanking the cutter and matching her speed. Bateson did not need to see the registries to know who operated those ships.
"We're being hailed, Admiral," announced Bane.
Bateson nodded. "Wait one, Lieutenant." He turned to Strauss. "Commander, if you would be so kind, please raise the shields - I trust those people about as far as I can throw this ship!"
"Acknowledged, sir. Shields up," replied Strauss, promptly. By the tone of his voice, the Admiral was obviously pissed!
"Alright, Mr. Bane, let's hear what they have to say." said Bateson as he crossed his arms.
* * *
It took Tilos a moment to realize that the interminable noise had stopped. The ringing in his ears still mocked him as a reminder that it could return.
The voice spoke once more. "I hope you've reconsidered cooperating with us. Shall we talk, or are you that much of an opera fan?"
"This is torture!" hissed Tilos, through clenched teeth.
"No," said the voice in a reasonable tone. "According to our Chief of the Boat, this is high art."
"Like Hell!" said Tilos, his voice still somewhat unsteady.
"This technique is from the field interrogation guide when dealing with enemy combatants - particularly those who fly combat vessels while wearing civilian clothing. I can assure you that you'll experience no lasting effects, but . . ." the voice paused, "I have to agree that it is an unpleasant experience. Now . . ." the voice came closer. "Let's start over. What is your name?"
Tilos bit his lip.
The voice uttered a sigh. "Very well. We've got a lot more files of this, so . . ."
"Tilos, Wayne E." the Major said in clipped tones.
There was no sound for a moment. Tilos wondered if he was alone. Then the voice spoke again. "Good. Wayne Tilos. Now we're getting somewhere!" There was another pause. "It says here, Wayne, that you are a former Marine Major, is that correct?"
Tilos said nothing, the muscles in his jaw tightened perceptibly.
"It also says, Wayne, that you are listed as MIA, presumed dead - were you aware of that, Wayne?"
"Now that you know who I am," growled Tilos, "You also know that I'm a Federation citizen. I don't have to say a word, especially without counsel."
The bright light suddenly went out. Tilos blinked as colored spots clouded his vision. In a moment, his eyes were able to focus. A dark-skinned man with graying hair and captain's pips on his color regarded him impassively.
"You're half right, Mr. Tilos," said Akinola. "But let me add something for you to chew on." The Captain leaned in, his nose nearly touching Tilos'.
"Your status has changed from MIA, presumed dead, to deserter, Mr. Tilos. And I happen to know that the Marine Corps still has two capital offenses in their regs - desertion and treason. I'm betting they might get you on both - what do you think? Ready to face a firing-squad?"
The muscles in Tilos' jaw began to twitch. He began to blink as perspiration rolled into his eyes, stinging them.
"Yessir, desertion during a time of war. How many of your men did you abandon, Mr. Tilos? You were a field-grade officer, after all, Mr. Tilos. Was it hard for you to just bug out? Did you get so scared you just couldn't hack it? Did you start to cry for your Mommy? What's your excuse, you miserable piece of shit!?!"
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT THE FRAK UP!" Tilos erupted, straining against his restraints. His muscles bulged with the effort and murder filled his eyes. His chest heaved and his lips quivered. "You weren't there . . ." he murmured. "You weren't there!"
Akinola straightened, unperturbed. "Alright, Mr. Tilos - tell me about it. Help me understand why a Marine officer would abandon his men."
Tilos shook his head. "It wasn't like that." He took a hitching breath. "I was part of the expeditionary force to the Tyra system," he began quietly.
Akinola's expression remained stoic, but internally, he cringed. Tyra had been one of the worst Federation defeats during the war.
Tilos continued. "I was in command of two companies of Marines, plus a company of Klingon infantry. We dropped onto Tyra IV to attack a Jem"Hadar base and destroy their supply of Ketracel White. . . " He paused, his eyes distant. "They knew we were coming, somehow . . . My men, were pinned down by heavy fire . . . I called the Klingon Force-Commander for reinforcements . . . he ignored me, the bastard! He attempted a frontal assault on the facility and got himself and his warriors wiped out. For 'honor' I suppose." Tilos was breathing heavily, caught up in the horrible memory. "We called for extraction but, . . ." he shook his head, "our transport was gone - blown out of orbit. We were on our own." His eyes locked with Akinola's. "We were on our own!"
"What happened, son?" asked Akinola, gently.
Tilos frowned, remembering. "We held off the Jem'Hadar for two days, but they were smart - they knew we were cut-off. They bided their time, never giving us a chance to rest or regroup. Finally, well . . ." He swallowed, "It finally ended in a cluster frak. We were fighting hand-to-hand, with small arms, knives, even rocks. At some point, I was hit and blacked out . . . I don't know how long. When I came too, I was surrounded by bodies . . . the bodies of my men. There were no friendly vessels left . . . we'd been abandoned."
"So, how did you get out of there?"
"I waited a few days, there were field rations and water scattered about. I made my way to the Jem'Hadar base," he shook his head. "It was abandoned! Can you believe that? Hundreds of men died for that hole, and the Jem'Hadar didn't even keep it! Is that frakked up or what?" He paused, then continued, "I scouted around and found one of their shuttles - it was damaged but operational. I scavenged parts off a couple of their frakked-up shuttles and managed to get off that rock." He looked up at Akinola, a look of pleading in his eyes. "I didn't desert, Captain. The Klingons . . . our Fleet . . . they deserted us! . . ." He looked down. "After that . . . I . . . just took off. Somehow, I ended up in the Klaamet system and Commodore Garth found me . . . offered me a job." Tilos looked at Akinola with piercing eyes. "Garth understands the Klingons, Captain! Better than anyone! They're not our allies - they only care about their frakked up traditions and their stinking honor!"
Akinola squatted down, and stared at the former Marine officer. "Listen to me, Tilos. If what you said checks out, I swear to you, I'll go to bat for you . . . but, I need your help! Tell me where to find Garth!"
Tilos' face hardened. "Garth trusted me, Captain. He gave me a purpose again. I won't betray him."
"Son, let me give it to you straight - if we can get to Garth, stop him before he does something really stupid - there's a chance we can preserve his reputation and maybe save his life!
Tilos still looked unconvinced. Akinola's combadge chirped. He stood. "Akinola, go."
"Joseph, it's Bateson. It looks like some of our 'friends' have joined the party."
Akinola grimaced. "On my way, Akinola out." He looked at Tilos.
"Think about what I said. Our time may already be up!"
* * *
I also wanted to do something different than having Solly show the Major "Mr. Blade." Tilos is a former Marine, after all, and would be less receptive to physical threats.
David-I think its "Xerok's clones" (snicker)
