Bluefin - Retro: "Here There Be Dragons"
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Re: Bluefin - Retro: "Here There Be Dragons"
Yay!
Yay!
Re: Bluefin - Retro: "Here There Be Dragons"
The latest installment is very good. A very suspense filled ending!
This story is a great re-imagining of the Trek universe!
The latest installment is very good. A very suspense filled ending!
This story is a great re-imagining of the Trek universe!
Re: Bluefin - Retro: "Here There Be Dragons"
Very nicely done! Great 50s pulp feel and a way to other universes...could lead to some interesting travels...
What if Retro Joe Akinola meets UT Universe Joe Akinola?
Very nicely done! Great 50s pulp feel and a way to other universes...could lead to some interesting travels...
What if Retro Joe Akinola meets UT Universe Joe Akinola?
Re: Bluefin - Retro: "Here There Be Dragons"
Chapter Eleven
24 October 2376
0239 Galactic Mean Time
Star Guard Cutter Bluefin SGC 58 - Conning Tower
Lt. Commander McBride kept his eyes firmly focused on the ladder rungs before him as he climbed. Just above, Lt. T'Ser ascended the narrow access ladder to the observation bubble atop the cutter's stubby conning tower.
Fighting the temptation to sneak a glimpse at the Vulcanian's shapely backside, he was relieved when she cleared the top of the ladder, allowing him to join her at the top-most part of the ship.
The observation bubble was a cramped, circular space - seldom used except by the occasional romantic stargazer or in an emergency situation such as they now faced. It was a tight squeeze for two people and McBride was acutely aware of the proximity of the beautiful Lieutenant.
Quit acting like a love-sick puppy, the XO chided himself. T'Ser is as interested in you as the Queen of England is in a crap sandwich!
As he removed the sextant and Schlessinger slide-rule from their protective cases, he noticed that T'Ser was regarding him with an amused smile.
Oh Lord! thought McBride with sudden horror. What if she can read my mind?
T'Ser did not remark on McBride's mental state. Instead, she asked, "Do you wish me to take the readings or do the calculations, Commander?"
"Uh, why don't you do the math, Lieutenant. The Skipper said you're the best person to do that."
T'Ser activated the Schlessinger slide-rule - an old space-farer's instrument that dated back to Earth's early forays beyond the solar system in the late 21st century. The screen gave off a faint blue glow in the darkened space, creating mysterious shadows on the lovely woman's face.
McBride forced his eyes from the exotic Vulcanian and toggled a switch on the bulkhead reversing the bubble's polarity. Instantly, the opaque smart-glass became transparent and the formerly dark space was suddenly open to the heavens.
Both officers took a moment to gaze at the wondrous sight of the stars that shone in the deep blackness of space.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" said McBride with a touch of awe. "When I was a kid back in west Texas, I'd camp out under the stars on our ranch. I loved it, but it doesn't hold a candle to bein' out here."
T'Ser shifted her gaze from the celestial vista to the face of the tall Texan. An affectionate smile formed on her lovely features.
"Perhaps we can return another time and enjoy the starscape together, Commander. But for now, shouldn't we attend to the navigational problem?"
McBride blinked and turned to look at T'Ser, surprised. "You'd do that? . . . Look at the stars with me, I mean? . . ."
She lifted a graceful eyebrow in amusement. "Commander, I find you to be a kind and interesting person, if not particularly perceptive. Yes, I would enjoy your company."
"Oh! Uh, well - good, great I mean! We'll uh, do that." McBride quickly picked up the sextant and adjusted the optics before aiming it toward a nearby star. He cleared his throat, but couldn't suppress a goofy grin that spread across his face.
"Okay, I've got NGC 612 . . . bearing 114 . . . looks to be 12.25 degrees north of the eliptic plane . . . range 76 point 372 AU's . . ."
* * *
24 October 2376
0240 Galactic Mean Time
Star Guard Cutter Bluefin SGC 58 - Bridge
"I'm waiting on an answer, Lieutenant." Captain Akinola spoke quietly, but his tone indicated he wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer.
Strauss was torn between her loyalty to Admiral Phan and the obvious need to bring Captain Akinola into the loop. The immediate danger to the ship and crew trumped personal considerations.
"The pallet contains parts that were meant for the MST and there actually is a prototype ion-storm early warning detector in there - so that much was true."
"And?" Akinola pressed, sensing that the other shoe was about to drop.
"And," she said in a low voice where only he could hear, "a tri-cobalt warhead with remote detonator."
For a moment, the Captain stared at Lt. Strauss in stunned amazement.
"Lieutenant," he began, carefully, "tri-cobalt devices were banned under the Axanar Accords. They aren't supposed to exist in our inventory."
"No," admitted Strauss, "they're not. But not all of the warheads were destroyed. The Minister of Defense convinced the President that we should keep three in reserve . . . just in case."
"In case of what, Lieutenant? In case we need to destroy an entire planet?"
Akinola's voice rose in volume, causing a few of the bridge crew to glance around toward the command chair.
"In case we run into a situation just like this, Captain!" Strauss replied, quietly but with resolve. "We already know there are things out here that would laugh off a tri-cobalt weapon. Please - you can file charges against me later if you wish - but we need to focus on not being here when the MST on Endurance goes super-critical."
The Captain pursed his lips as he reigned in his anger. "Alright, Lieutenant - what will happen if that . . . transporter . . . overloads?"
"You've already seen what happened to Endurance and her crew. If that aritificial singularity should breach its confinement chamber while the MST is still functioning, well . . . it could open up a permanent door to the universe next door."
Akinola took that in, considering the implications. "Okay, that's a scenario I don't pretend to understand, but it sounds bad enough. Now tell me this - why a planet-buster weapon? Why not conventional weapons we have on board?"
"I wondered that myself, Captain. But now that I've seen the MST chamber on Endurance with my own eyes, I can tell you it's better armored than a super-dreadnought. You could blow the rest of the ship to sub-atomic particles and probably not slow down the chain-reaction that's taking place."
The Captain grunted in grudging agreement. "How far do we need to jump to be out of range when it finally let's loose?"
The look on Strauss' face told the story. "I honestly don't know, sir. This is uncharted territory and, as I said, I'm not a scientist."
Akinola rose to his feet. "Then it's time we woke up Dr. Castille and get some straight answers from him, while we still can!"
* * *
24 October 2376
0241 Galactic Mean Time
Klingonese Imperial Navy Frigate Qo'rlok
"Lord Klorn! The Earther vessel has activated a low-level laser system."
"A targeting system?" demanded Klorn.
Lt. Grel frowned as she scanned her data feed. "Negative - the pulses are too irregular - there seems to be some pattern . . ." She paused in puzzlement, then turned suddenly in her chair.
"I believe they are attempting to communicate with us."
Patron-Major Klejis snorted derisively. "With laser signals? A waste of time! We don't share the same language, much less the same signal codes."
Captain Klorn stood from his command dais. "I have faced the Earthers in battle, Klejis. Do not be so quick to dismiss this - they are nothing if not resourceful." He directed his attention to Lt. Grel. "Can you make anything of it?"
Grel played the signal sequence again on her screen, a look of intense concentration on her face. "There is something very familiar about this pattern. I shall run it through the lingua-code processor - perhaps it will give us a key."
"Attend to it," ordered Klorn. He turned back to Klejis. "Patron-Major, I have an assignment for you as well."
Still stinging from the earlier ridicule, the political office regarded the Captain warily. "M'Lord?"
"You will lead a boarding party onto that derelict and discover what, if any, weapon the Earthers have on board. You will then attempt to capture the weapon or, failing that, destroy it."
Klejis jaw tightened and he felt his liver twist with suppressed anger and frustration. "And what if the Earthers prevent our boarding their vessel?"
"Then I'm sure one of the court artisans will script a line or two of dirge in your honor for the funeral. Of course, you can refuse the order . . ."
And there was the quandary for Klejis. Technically, he was outside the official shipboard chain of command and answerable directly to the council of three. But to refuse what any on the bridge would consider the honor of leading such a mission could only be construed as cowardice on his part. Since he was not of the warrior caste, he was not expected to commit ritual suicide for dishonor, but his future would come to an end all the same. He would be worse off than dead.
The Patron-Major pulled himself up to his full height and answered with a firm voice. "As you wish, Lord Klorn. It is my honor to do so."
Klorn inclined his head, imparting a modicum of respect to his adversary. "Take Troopmaster Lakis and his strike team. Lakis will fit you out with battle armor and assault weaponry." He brought his fist against his chest in the imperial salute. "Good hunting."
Klejis returned the salute, maintaining eye-contact with the veteran warrior. "I live to serve the empire!" he said with restrained sarcasm. Turning on his heel, he stalked off the bridge toward the hangar deck.
* * *
24 October 2376
0249 Galactic Mean Time
Star Guard Cutter Bluefin SGC 58 - Infirmary
Octavius Castille was distantly aware of a slight pressure against his forearm. The comforting darkness began to fade to gray and he became aware of a voice calling his name - a familiar voice.
"O.C. - it's Inga. Come on now, wake up. I have something important to ask you."
Castille ran his tongue over dry lips. He was aware of light beyond his closed eyelids and he heard the steady beep of the monitors over his bed. He attempted to open his eyes, squinting against the light in his cubicle.
Three figures loomed over his bed. A white-haired man with glasses and a kind expression nodded slightly. Next to him stood Inga Strauss (Inga? Here? Where is here?). On the opposite side of his bed stood a tall, dark-skinned man in a naval officer's uniform. Even in his drug-hazed state, he could see the man was not happy.
The dark-skinned man spoke. "Dr. Castille, I'm Captain Akinola. You're on the Star Guard cutter Bluefin. We pulled you off of the Endurance a few hours ago. Time is short, so I need some answers from you and I need them now."
The white-haired man in the lab coat frowned and looked at Akinola. "Joseph, give him a moment to . . ."
"Sorry, Doc, we don't have time for niceties," he said brusquely. "Dr. Castille - the MST on Endurance is running out of control. We've already been hit by two waves emanating from the device and have sustained significant system damage."
Castille worked his way up on his elbows, closing his eyes to the wave of dizziness that threatend to overwhelm him.
"What . . . what's our distance from Endurance?" he rasped.
"Right now we're holding station approximately five thousand kilometers away."
"Then I suggest, Captain, you get us underway - as fast and as far as this ship can go!" Castille struggled to a sitting position. Dr. Baxter sought to restrain him, but the scientist brushed him off.
Akinola folded his arms. "And therein lies the problem, Doctor. We have a Klingonese frigate holding station right on top of us, which probably suffered the same system damage as have we. Oh, and did I mention that our nav-system is down, making the odds of our jumping safely out of here somewhere between slim and none!"
Castille dropped his head and shook it morosely. "Then I'm afraid we're done for. I failed in my attempt to shut down the MST - somehow the artificial singularity has melded with the device in a self-perpetuating manner. The safety protocols were useless." He looked up at Akinola, a defeated expression on his face. "If you're a praying man, this would be a good time . . ."
Akinola reached over and grabbed the scientist's collar roughly. "That's enough, Castille! Get a hold of yourself, man!"
"O.C.!" interupted Lt. Strauss. "Admiral Phan sent the 'special' pallet - I guess he figured out the scenario we're facing."
Castille looked sharply over at his ex-wife. "The warhead?"
Strauss nodded. "Yes, but we need to know if there's time to get it on the Endurance - attaching it to a torpedo is useless. The targeting computer is down."
The scientist rubbed his face, trying to clear his head. "How many shock-waves did you say hit? Two?"
Akinola nodded. "That's right."
"How long ago was the last wave?"
The Captain looked at his wrist-watch. "Twenty-one minutes."
Castille frowned in thought, running mental calculations. "My best guess is we have slightly more than an hour before the singularity destabilizes completely and we get sucked into the transfer stream, along with anything else within a few light-hours."
The Captain winced. "And what happened to the Endurance and her crew . . . that will happen to us?"
Castille laughed mirthlessly. "Oh no, Captain. It will be much, much worse."
* * *
Chapter Eleven
24 October 2376
0239 Galactic Mean Time
Star Guard Cutter Bluefin SGC 58 - Conning Tower
Lt. Commander McBride kept his eyes firmly focused on the ladder rungs before him as he climbed. Just above, Lt. T'Ser ascended the narrow access ladder to the observation bubble atop the cutter's stubby conning tower.
Fighting the temptation to sneak a glimpse at the Vulcanian's shapely backside, he was relieved when she cleared the top of the ladder, allowing him to join her at the top-most part of the ship.
The observation bubble was a cramped, circular space - seldom used except by the occasional romantic stargazer or in an emergency situation such as they now faced. It was a tight squeeze for two people and McBride was acutely aware of the proximity of the beautiful Lieutenant.
Quit acting like a love-sick puppy, the XO chided himself. T'Ser is as interested in you as the Queen of England is in a crap sandwich!
As he removed the sextant and Schlessinger slide-rule from their protective cases, he noticed that T'Ser was regarding him with an amused smile.
Oh Lord! thought McBride with sudden horror. What if she can read my mind?
T'Ser did not remark on McBride's mental state. Instead, she asked, "Do you wish me to take the readings or do the calculations, Commander?"
"Uh, why don't you do the math, Lieutenant. The Skipper said you're the best person to do that."
T'Ser activated the Schlessinger slide-rule - an old space-farer's instrument that dated back to Earth's early forays beyond the solar system in the late 21st century. The screen gave off a faint blue glow in the darkened space, creating mysterious shadows on the lovely woman's face.
McBride forced his eyes from the exotic Vulcanian and toggled a switch on the bulkhead reversing the bubble's polarity. Instantly, the opaque smart-glass became transparent and the formerly dark space was suddenly open to the heavens.
Both officers took a moment to gaze at the wondrous sight of the stars that shone in the deep blackness of space.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" said McBride with a touch of awe. "When I was a kid back in west Texas, I'd camp out under the stars on our ranch. I loved it, but it doesn't hold a candle to bein' out here."
T'Ser shifted her gaze from the celestial vista to the face of the tall Texan. An affectionate smile formed on her lovely features.
"Perhaps we can return another time and enjoy the starscape together, Commander. But for now, shouldn't we attend to the navigational problem?"
McBride blinked and turned to look at T'Ser, surprised. "You'd do that? . . . Look at the stars with me, I mean? . . ."
She lifted a graceful eyebrow in amusement. "Commander, I find you to be a kind and interesting person, if not particularly perceptive. Yes, I would enjoy your company."
"Oh! Uh, well - good, great I mean! We'll uh, do that." McBride quickly picked up the sextant and adjusted the optics before aiming it toward a nearby star. He cleared his throat, but couldn't suppress a goofy grin that spread across his face.
"Okay, I've got NGC 612 . . . bearing 114 . . . looks to be 12.25 degrees north of the eliptic plane . . . range 76 point 372 AU's . . ."
* * *
24 October 2376
0240 Galactic Mean Time
Star Guard Cutter Bluefin SGC 58 - Bridge
"I'm waiting on an answer, Lieutenant." Captain Akinola spoke quietly, but his tone indicated he wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer.
Strauss was torn between her loyalty to Admiral Phan and the obvious need to bring Captain Akinola into the loop. The immediate danger to the ship and crew trumped personal considerations.
"The pallet contains parts that were meant for the MST and there actually is a prototype ion-storm early warning detector in there - so that much was true."
"And?" Akinola pressed, sensing that the other shoe was about to drop.
"And," she said in a low voice where only he could hear, "a tri-cobalt warhead with remote detonator."
For a moment, the Captain stared at Lt. Strauss in stunned amazement.
"Lieutenant," he began, carefully, "tri-cobalt devices were banned under the Axanar Accords. They aren't supposed to exist in our inventory."
"No," admitted Strauss, "they're not. But not all of the warheads were destroyed. The Minister of Defense convinced the President that we should keep three in reserve . . . just in case."
"In case of what, Lieutenant? In case we need to destroy an entire planet?"
Akinola's voice rose in volume, causing a few of the bridge crew to glance around toward the command chair.
"In case we run into a situation just like this, Captain!" Strauss replied, quietly but with resolve. "We already know there are things out here that would laugh off a tri-cobalt weapon. Please - you can file charges against me later if you wish - but we need to focus on not being here when the MST on Endurance goes super-critical."
The Captain pursed his lips as he reigned in his anger. "Alright, Lieutenant - what will happen if that . . . transporter . . . overloads?"
"You've already seen what happened to Endurance and her crew. If that aritificial singularity should breach its confinement chamber while the MST is still functioning, well . . . it could open up a permanent door to the universe next door."
Akinola took that in, considering the implications. "Okay, that's a scenario I don't pretend to understand, but it sounds bad enough. Now tell me this - why a planet-buster weapon? Why not conventional weapons we have on board?"
"I wondered that myself, Captain. But now that I've seen the MST chamber on Endurance with my own eyes, I can tell you it's better armored than a super-dreadnought. You could blow the rest of the ship to sub-atomic particles and probably not slow down the chain-reaction that's taking place."
The Captain grunted in grudging agreement. "How far do we need to jump to be out of range when it finally let's loose?"
The look on Strauss' face told the story. "I honestly don't know, sir. This is uncharted territory and, as I said, I'm not a scientist."
Akinola rose to his feet. "Then it's time we woke up Dr. Castille and get some straight answers from him, while we still can!"
* * *
24 October 2376
0241 Galactic Mean Time
Klingonese Imperial Navy Frigate Qo'rlok
"Lord Klorn! The Earther vessel has activated a low-level laser system."
"A targeting system?" demanded Klorn.
Lt. Grel frowned as she scanned her data feed. "Negative - the pulses are too irregular - there seems to be some pattern . . ." She paused in puzzlement, then turned suddenly in her chair.
"I believe they are attempting to communicate with us."
Patron-Major Klejis snorted derisively. "With laser signals? A waste of time! We don't share the same language, much less the same signal codes."
Captain Klorn stood from his command dais. "I have faced the Earthers in battle, Klejis. Do not be so quick to dismiss this - they are nothing if not resourceful." He directed his attention to Lt. Grel. "Can you make anything of it?"
Grel played the signal sequence again on her screen, a look of intense concentration on her face. "There is something very familiar about this pattern. I shall run it through the lingua-code processor - perhaps it will give us a key."
"Attend to it," ordered Klorn. He turned back to Klejis. "Patron-Major, I have an assignment for you as well."
Still stinging from the earlier ridicule, the political office regarded the Captain warily. "M'Lord?"
"You will lead a boarding party onto that derelict and discover what, if any, weapon the Earthers have on board. You will then attempt to capture the weapon or, failing that, destroy it."
Klejis jaw tightened and he felt his liver twist with suppressed anger and frustration. "And what if the Earthers prevent our boarding their vessel?"
"Then I'm sure one of the court artisans will script a line or two of dirge in your honor for the funeral. Of course, you can refuse the order . . ."
And there was the quandary for Klejis. Technically, he was outside the official shipboard chain of command and answerable directly to the council of three. But to refuse what any on the bridge would consider the honor of leading such a mission could only be construed as cowardice on his part. Since he was not of the warrior caste, he was not expected to commit ritual suicide for dishonor, but his future would come to an end all the same. He would be worse off than dead.
The Patron-Major pulled himself up to his full height and answered with a firm voice. "As you wish, Lord Klorn. It is my honor to do so."
Klorn inclined his head, imparting a modicum of respect to his adversary. "Take Troopmaster Lakis and his strike team. Lakis will fit you out with battle armor and assault weaponry." He brought his fist against his chest in the imperial salute. "Good hunting."
Klejis returned the salute, maintaining eye-contact with the veteran warrior. "I live to serve the empire!" he said with restrained sarcasm. Turning on his heel, he stalked off the bridge toward the hangar deck.
* * *
24 October 2376
0249 Galactic Mean Time
Star Guard Cutter Bluefin SGC 58 - Infirmary
Octavius Castille was distantly aware of a slight pressure against his forearm. The comforting darkness began to fade to gray and he became aware of a voice calling his name - a familiar voice.
"O.C. - it's Inga. Come on now, wake up. I have something important to ask you."
Castille ran his tongue over dry lips. He was aware of light beyond his closed eyelids and he heard the steady beep of the monitors over his bed. He attempted to open his eyes, squinting against the light in his cubicle.
Three figures loomed over his bed. A white-haired man with glasses and a kind expression nodded slightly. Next to him stood Inga Strauss (Inga? Here? Where is here?). On the opposite side of his bed stood a tall, dark-skinned man in a naval officer's uniform. Even in his drug-hazed state, he could see the man was not happy.
The dark-skinned man spoke. "Dr. Castille, I'm Captain Akinola. You're on the Star Guard cutter Bluefin. We pulled you off of the Endurance a few hours ago. Time is short, so I need some answers from you and I need them now."
The white-haired man in the lab coat frowned and looked at Akinola. "Joseph, give him a moment to . . ."
"Sorry, Doc, we don't have time for niceties," he said brusquely. "Dr. Castille - the MST on Endurance is running out of control. We've already been hit by two waves emanating from the device and have sustained significant system damage."
Castille worked his way up on his elbows, closing his eyes to the wave of dizziness that threatend to overwhelm him.
"What . . . what's our distance from Endurance?" he rasped.
"Right now we're holding station approximately five thousand kilometers away."
"Then I suggest, Captain, you get us underway - as fast and as far as this ship can go!" Castille struggled to a sitting position. Dr. Baxter sought to restrain him, but the scientist brushed him off.
Akinola folded his arms. "And therein lies the problem, Doctor. We have a Klingonese frigate holding station right on top of us, which probably suffered the same system damage as have we. Oh, and did I mention that our nav-system is down, making the odds of our jumping safely out of here somewhere between slim and none!"
Castille dropped his head and shook it morosely. "Then I'm afraid we're done for. I failed in my attempt to shut down the MST - somehow the artificial singularity has melded with the device in a self-perpetuating manner. The safety protocols were useless." He looked up at Akinola, a defeated expression on his face. "If you're a praying man, this would be a good time . . ."
Akinola reached over and grabbed the scientist's collar roughly. "That's enough, Castille! Get a hold of yourself, man!"
"O.C.!" interupted Lt. Strauss. "Admiral Phan sent the 'special' pallet - I guess he figured out the scenario we're facing."
Castille looked sharply over at his ex-wife. "The warhead?"
Strauss nodded. "Yes, but we need to know if there's time to get it on the Endurance - attaching it to a torpedo is useless. The targeting computer is down."
The scientist rubbed his face, trying to clear his head. "How many shock-waves did you say hit? Two?"
Akinola nodded. "That's right."
"How long ago was the last wave?"
The Captain looked at his wrist-watch. "Twenty-one minutes."
Castille frowned in thought, running mental calculations. "My best guess is we have slightly more than an hour before the singularity destabilizes completely and we get sucked into the transfer stream, along with anything else within a few light-hours."
The Captain winced. "And what happened to the Endurance and her crew . . . that will happen to us?"
Castille laughed mirthlessly. "Oh no, Captain. It will be much, much worse."
* * *
Re: Bluefin - Retro: "Here There Be Dragons"
Much worse as in "end of the universe" worse? Or end of universes? And the Patron-Major got suckered into a suicide mission--nicely played by Klorn. Of course, if the Patron-Major pulls this off...
And the clock is ticking...
Much worse as in "end of the universe" worse? Or end of universes? And the Patron-Major got suckered into a suicide mission--nicely played by Klorn. Of course, if the Patron-Major pulls this off...
And the clock is ticking...
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