Starship Reykjavík – Conduct Unbecoming

I had forgotten that Kirk had taken mercy on his gorn opponent and this was why the morn survived. The Metrons were planning to wipe out loser's the entire species. I'd love to see what updated graphics could do with the species.

Looking forward to the next installment! Thanks!! rbs

Very exciting opening to the chapter, and a nice introduction to Captain Keller and the crew of Repulse. Will be interesting to discover what he's really up to, and see more of his clearly formidable defensive - and offensive - capabilities.

Okay, so Keller is a jerk. A very competent jerk. That does not bode well if he's truly gone rouge. Or he actually may be on to something, in which case it's the Gorn who'll have to worry. No matter what, I foresee plenty of excitement ahead.

Robert Bruce Scott said:

I'd love to see what updated graphics could do with the species.

Click to expand...

In that case I suggest Strange New Worlds.

While it's tempting to believe that Keller is pulling a Captain Maxwell here, I think there's more going on. Keller is an A-hole, but it's obvious he's a singular strategist. There's also the fact that his XO seems to be supporting his orders without hesitation.
Can't wait to see what truth gets uncovered here.

Chapter 4

Repulse's bridge buzzed with an underlying tension; the silent, scarlet pulsing of the alert status indicator appeared to be the only movement within the compartment's dim illumination. The sudden sound of the lift doors opening and uniform boots clicking against the deck snapped heads around to attention.

"Captain on the bridge!" Kesshek's voice sliced through the quiet hum.

Keller strode in, the lingering weight of his twenty-minute absence below decks evident in the set of his shoulders. "Status report," he demanded, eyes darting to each crew member.

T'Rel, ever-efficient, responded with calm and measured words, "Captain. The Gorn vessels are shadowing our warp trail, hovering closely and scanning our atmospheric traces. Their formation suggests they're not relinquishing their offensive stance."

Keller's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "XO, they know they're in a game against the best." There was unmistakable pride in his voice, tinged with challenge. Striding forward, he activated the intership communication system. "Engineering, what's the timer on our shields?"

O'Brien's voice replied, "Roughly eight to ten minutes, probably closer to eight than ten."

Keller's brow furrowed. "Can't you be more precise?" To T'Rel, he stated simply, "I have the conn."

"Captain has the conn," T'Rel intoned. She took up her standing position to his right, once more.

"Y'see that storm out there, sir? The clouds of vaporized metals are moving according to the magnetic field distortions, which are pretty unpredictable in terms of how they interact with our shields," explained O'Brien, in a tone that bordered on condescension. "Sometimes, we have a good minute followed by two bad ones. It drains the shields at different rates."

Understanding - though not necessarily appreciating - Keller nodded, "Notify me with three minutes remaining." He ended the communication, then addressed his crew, voice dripping with authority, "Attention, all."

Those last two words, as everyone aboard Repulse had come to know, acted as his code phrase to drop what you're doing and give the captain nothing less than your full attention. Every member of the crew swiveled around in their chairs and did so, immediately.

"In roughly eight to ten minutes," Keller began in a mocking tone, expressing his displeasure with the imprecision in O'Brien's report, "this ship will begin combat operations. Our goal is to disable or destroy the three Gorn hunters that have been tracking us since leaving their territory. We've managed to elude them enough to force them into a search pattern, meaning that they do not have a fix on our precise location, thanks to the magnetic soup out there.

"Mister Kesshek, I want to know the moment those three are in visual range."

Kesshek nodded and turned back around to get that information. "Sir! They are crossing into visual range now, on a flight path that will take them out of range in twenty minutes."

"Excellent, plenty of time. When they get to their closest point, fire the probe."

"That will be in… five minutes, forty-seven seconds, sir."

"Good. Mister Thalix, one minute before then, you'll invert the ship so that the main tractor emitter is facing the enemy ships. When they pass overhead, lock on to the rear guard ship and then pull them down with us at full impulse power." Keller laid out, using his hands to gesture how he felt the maneuver should be performed.

Thalix replied, "Aye, sir."

"Once that rear ship is down, Mister Kesshek, you will disable or destroy their sublight capability," the captain continued confidently. "I'll take two to one over three to one odds any day."

As Kesshek raised his voice to affirm the order, T'Rel pulled her PADD up and began tapping in the sequence of events for her own edification; perhaps even a detailed log entry should they survive the complex tactic.

"Two minutes to intercept, sir," Kesshek reported. Without waiting, he continued his report, "The Gorn flotilla is approaching in a vee formation, though the aft ships are closer to the stratosphere than the lead hunter."

Keller nodded. "They're correctly assuming we'll pop up below them. That formation will bring their weapons to optimal bearing. Mister Thalix, begin your roll."

"Beginning my roll, aye, sir," Thalix called out. The screen view flipped, showing the 'horizon' of space now below them instead of above. "Roll complete, captain."

"Adequate," was Keller's only reply. "Give me ten degrees nose down, and put the time to intercept on main viewer."

Repulse's view showed more of the stars than before, while the countdown overlaid itself in the upper right corner of the main viewscreen. When it hit thirty seconds, Keller ordered, "Deploy the probe."

When the probe showed itself on the on the viewer and sped away, Kesshek reported, "Probe away, sir!"

As the probe pulled itself on a straightaway up and away from the clouds, taking minimal damage due to its tiny profile compared to an Excelsior-class starship. The probe began actively announcing its position and flew at full impulse power in lower orbit.

"The lead ship is advancing on the probe," Kesshek started, though it was obvious when the hunter ship spun itself and began firing.

"Tractor the closest vessel, Vara, make sure you got a good lock! Then give me a quick Hammerhead, and then just snap-pitch us so we're facing the stars again," Keller said in rapid-fire. "Really swung that bastard around, Thalix!"

Commander Vara and Lieutenant Thalix worked together to execute the orders quickly. Vara announced, "I got 'em, sir!"

"Beginning my maneuver," Thalix called. Repulse swung hard downward toward the surface of the planet with the hunter vessel trapped in its tractor beam.

Keller slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. "Open fire!"

The unmistakable orangish phaser beams lanced out and made a direct hit against the Gorn hunter, striking the rear-facing engines. Kesshek continued the firing pattern until they sliced through the hull and made contract with the propulsion unit. However, the damaged armor gave the metallic clouds an entry into the ship's interior.

"Release tractor beam, now," Keller said. "And put us behind the other two ships. Kesshek, once we're clear of the atmosphere, fire everything you got. Time on target!"

Repulse continued the Hammerhead climb quickly, shooting up out of the atmosphere like a whale swanning from a dive. But instead of crashing back down on its back, Thalix brought the ship, still inverted, so that all of her formidable forward weapons bore on the lower rear quarter of the remaining Gorn hunters still chasing the probe.

Kesshek announced, "Firing all weapons time on target,, aye, sir." Phasers and torpedoes worked in concert with one another. Twenty torpedoes on individual parabolic trajectories to their targets impacted against the shielded hulls just moments after the phaser beams struck. The beams' timing managed to cause a widespread energy fluctuation to allow the kinetic weapons to punch through easily. Within moments, the flotilla was no more, just debris now caught in a decaying orbit of the planet below.

Everyone on the bridge, except T'Rel, cheered or breathed a sigh of relief. The Vulcan exec continued to take her notes until she caught up to the action and ceased her writing.

Thalix turned around and asked, "How did you know that would w-work, sir?"

Keller's eyes bore into her momentarily, then softened with a hint of amusement. "S'ran and Kesshek, you may answer, if you so desire."

S'ran exchanged glances with Kesshek, the latter of whom deferred to the senior officer. The Andorian chief of sciences explained, "The tactic made use of the Gorn shielding system. Unlike ours, which are powered in six separate arcs, the Gorn utilize a cluster of shield generators to power multiple layers of contiguous shielding."

At S'ran's nod, Kesshek continued. "The phaser beam was modulated for the upper electromagnetic band, in the hopes that it would cause a lag in failover between the generators."

"It was a guess?" asked Thalix, her eyes widened.

Keller shifted in his seat, unabashedly preening at his subordinates' review. "I prefer the phrase 'provable hypothesis.'"

Seeing that Thalix and Vara faced forward with their own versions of incredulous expressions, T'Rel stepped forward. "Had the tactic been unsuccessful, the captain had other options open to him."

"Of course I did!" snapped Keller loudly, throwing his ire at T'Rel. However, seeing that it had no impact upon her other than a raised eyebrow, he relented. "All right. All's forgiven. Let's chalk it up to a tense situation."

T'Rel merely inclined her head toward him in a capitulating manner, with her eyes closed. She knew full well that it was what he expected of her, and it cost her nothing to maintain what little harmony on the bridge existed since Keller assumed command the previous year.

With a deep breath through his nose, Keller spoke sharply. "Take us out of the system, Mister Thalix, plot a course for a return to Gorn space at warp five." As Thalix repeated the order, the captain keyed open the intercom and called out, "Engineering, this is the bridge. We're securing from combat operations, so feel free to begin repairs underway."

O'Brien chuckled over the speakers. "Oh, thank you, sir. How magnanimous of you. O'Brien, out."

Keller managed a staccato chortle as the ship made the interfold transition back to subspace. "All right, enough jokes, everyone. Settle down. Maintain the watch and set condition yellow."

T'Rel repeated the order, "Set condition yellow throughout the ship, aye, sir."

The captain steepled his hands against his chin as he leaned forward in his seat. "Let's find our next target."

* * *

USS Reykjavík

Davula entered the ready room to find Trujillo bleary-eyed, deep into a seventy-year-old treatise on the Federation’s diplomatic history with the Gorn Hegemony.

“Any luck, sir?”

Trujillo deactivated her desktop monitor, taking a moment to rub her eyes and stretch. “Not much, I’m afraid. All our diplomats that interacted with the Gorn in the 50’s and 60’s are long retired if not deceased by now. It appears that all our treaties with the hegemony were conducted via subspace, something about the Gorn refusing to negotiate in person with ‘prey.’” She blew out a sigh. “It’s slow going.”

Davula held up a data-slate. “I’ve got something that might be of value, if you have a moment, sir?”

Trujillo waved her tiredly towards a chair. “By all means, Commander.”

The XO sat, passing the data-slate across the tabletop. “Lieutenant Garrett and I have compiled everything we have in our databanks on the Gorn biologically. They’re actually quite fascinating, from a scientific perspective. Tissue samples gathered from Cestus III and other locations over the last century indicate the Gorn possess a very dense, intricately folded DNA structure, similar to that of the Xindi. It suggests that that the various stages of Gorn maturation are almost akin to their metamorphosing into an entirely different species, not just once, but twice.”

“That three-stage maturation process of theirs?” Trujillo asked.

“Exactly. At each stage, a Gorn undergoes a molting process that’s more like a Terran butterfly’s chrysalis, accompanied by a deep hibernation, lasting weeks to months. They emerge from these periods significantly changed, both physically and neurologically.”

Trujillo appeared more alert now, brought to full wakefulness by Davula’s discourse.

“So, we really are dealing with three separate species in a sense?”

“I certainly appears that way, sir. From a negotiations standpoint, that might be of some help.”

“It is, thank you.”

Davula touched a finger to her data-slate, transferring the files to Trujillo’s desktop queue.

“My appreciation to Mister Garrett as well, Commander.”

“I will convey that, sir.” Davula paused. “A question, if I may, Commodore?”

“Certainly.”

“Have you considered asking to send Gol into Gorn territory, with a Gorn escort, to track down and make contact with Repulse, sir?”

“I’ve given that idea quite a bit of thought, actually,” Trujillo confessed. “However, I don’t trust the Gorn not to attack Repulse on sight, and I don’t want to put Commander Glal and his crew in the position of having to watch their comrades destroyed while they do nothing, or risk igniting a larger conflict by jumping in to assist Repulse. Additionally, I’m not sure if the Gorn get into a killing frenzy that they wouldn’t destroy Gol right alongside Repulse if it comes to a fight with Captain Keller.”

Davula digested that in silence.

“If Repulse makes it’s back to our side of the border, we have greater control over the situation, and neither Gol nor any of our other starships are placed in harm's way needlessly.

“So, Keller and his people are on their own, sir?”

Trujillo nodded once, emphatically. “Correct. They got themselves into this mess, and they’ll have to get themselves out of it, only to face potential courts-martial if they make it back to our territory.”

“I understand, sir. Thank you for the explanation.”

“Any time, Commander. Speaking of Repulse, I’ve composed a recall order to broadcast over encrypted channels to hopefully draw her back here. She’s not responded to anything Starfleet’s sent over the past few days, so I’m not holding out much hope.”

Trujillo reached out and toggled a control on her desktop interface. The commodore’s voice issued forth.

“This message is a Priority-One Communique, and is being broadcast on an encrypted and secured Starfleet frequency. This is Commodore Nandi Trujillo, commanding USS Reykjavík and Rapid Response Detachment Delta.

“Any Starfleet personnel receiving this message who are associated with USS Repulse, NCC-2544, you are directed and required to return immediately to Federation space and submit yourself for inspection and investigation into the events surrounding your actions within the recognized territory of the Gorn Hegemony.

“There has been no declaration of hostilities between our two governments, and your actions have pushed the Federation and the Gorn Hegemony to the brink of war without explanation or known provocation.

“Failure to comply with these orders will constitute willful insubordination, in addition to potential charges of Conduct Unbecoming for initiating hostilities with a foreign power without authorization.

“Captain Keller, you and your crew are hereby officially recalled. The clock is ticking.”

Trujillo met Davula’s eyes across her desktop. “Let’s hope for the best. Please transmit that over the emergency channels, highest possible gain on our transceiver.”

* * *

Keller either answers and compiles or Trujillo is hunting their own. This is getting interesting.

Keller is definitely a man with a purpose. Whether it's a very good purpose or a very bad one remains to be seen.

Whichever one it is, my money is that he's going to maintain subspace radio silence in the face of orders to withdraw...

Really interesting development of gorn physiology and culture. So... which were the guys that Keller just burned down?

Thanks!! rbs

Intriguing battle tactics employed by Keller. It'll be interesting to learn what his motivation is for renewing his hunt of the Gorn. I can't imagine Trujillo's message will have the desired effect, so her hand may well be forced to do exactly what she just said she wanted to avoid. Oh, and I very much appreciated your explanation of Gorn biology and maturation. Offers intriguing possibilities for this story, and nicely explains some much-debated "inconsistencies" in Gorn physiology as portrayed in recent media appearances.

USS Gol, NCC-2472

Gol was too small a vessel to allow for a ready room attached to the bridge, so Commander Glal’s office was located in a compartment adjacent to his quarters.

He was reviewing his senior officers’ updates on departure preparations when the door chimed.

“Enter,” the Tellarite growled, attaching his thick forefinger print signature to a deuterium consumption report.

The doors parted and Leo Verde stepped through; a small, nondescript bag at his side. "Sorry for the intrusion, Skipper," he said with a smile. "I thought I would pay my respects."

Glal offered a crooked smile, much of which was hidden by his scraggly beard. “Welcome aboard, Commander. I trust Mister Jarrod found you and your people adequate quarters?” He made a show of glancing around the small, Spartan office cabin. “You’re sure as hell not sleeping in here!”

Leo laughed. "Yes, he is a well-trained exec, and found us a closet two decks down," he set the bag down on the modest desk and took a step back. "But, far be it for me to accept your gracious hospitality without a gift. This is just a little something I picked up on K-14."

Glal stood and squeezed out from behind the cramped desk to bend down, his knees crackling in protest. “And far be it from me to turn down a gift. What have we got here?”

He reached into the bag, grabbing hold of a colorfully labeled bottle of Tellarite Fizz. Glal spent a moment inspecting the label. “Well, this is most welcome, Commander. I thank you! The Commodore refuses to entertain my love of this particularly volatile beverage, so I often go without.”

"Please, call me Leo," came his typical response. "And I know exactly four drinks that mix well with Fizz, but don't ask me to drink any of them," Leo added with a wry grin.

“Nothing an emergency site-to-site transport to Sickbay and a new esophageal lining wouldn’t cure, Leo, I assure you!” Glal chortled, still eyeing the bottle appreciatively.

"New lining, new intestine, probably will eat all the way through my spinal cord, too," Leo said after a genuine wheezing laugh. "I'll stick with carbon and not volcanic gasses in my drinks."

Glal offered the Tellarite variant of a shrug. “To each their own.” He gestured to the chair facing the desk. “Make yourself at home, please. We’re making final preparations for departure, though I can tell you I’m not anxious to go hunting down another starship. I’ve done a lot of things in my time in the service, but never that.”

Leo's expression hardened as he took the proffered chair. "Thank you. And agreed. I've JAGMAN'ed gross insubordination cases in the past, but this is… beyond the pale. I'll tell you what I told the Commodore; whatever this is… he has to be absolutely convinced he's operating with full authority. Keller does not wake up one morning and decide that he's going to start a war. I firmly believe he thinks when he crosses back into Federation space, it'll be to a hero's welcome."

Glal resumed his seat, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Unless he’s given to wildly liberal interpretations of his ‘observe and report’ patrol orders, I can’t fathom how that might be the case.”

With a shake of his head, Leo shrugged. "There's got to be something we're not aware of. Something that's influencing his decision-making. I keep thinking about all the possibilities. Maybe he's being fed bad intel or orders. Maybe he's dead and someone else has command. Maybe Davula's right and Repulse is under enemy control and this is all a big false-flag."

“As horrible as that would be, I almost hope that’s the case,” Glal said with a sigh. “Nevertheless, we’ve got Repulse’s command prefix codes at the ready, should we need to employ them. Whatever their situation, I hope Keller can get his people safely back across the border before the Gorn zero in on them. That’s not a fate I’d wish on anyone.”

"No," Leo agreed immediately. "From what I understand, his exec is top-notch; a Vulcan named T'Rel. She adheres to the Surakian discipline, and if she's still serving in that capacity, I would imagine she would not hesitate to protect the crew. I think if we do make contact and he's unreasonable, we would have to appeal to her." He reached into the fold of his jacket and pulled out a display device. "I'm here as an officer of the court, Skipper. Whatever you need from me in terms of legal coverage, you let me know."

Glal fixed an assaying look on Verde. “Just between you, me and the bulkhead, how’s Keller going to react to seeing you at the tip of JAG’s legal spear? From what I picked up in our collective briefing, it sounds like he put you through Hell. I’d have to imagine he’s going to think he’s walked right into the hangman’s gallows and you’re holding the noose.”

Leo sighed, visibly considering his words via his expression. "I… I'm not sure, honestly. Probably might assign some motivation to my being here, for sure. And yeah, he beached me pretty good, Skip, won't lie about that."

Glal continued to observe Verde closely, drinking in the man’s words and non-verbal cues.

With the device in his right hand, Leo raised both outstretched as he continued speaking, "But, in spite of all that, I'm still out here in space, and I'm still wearing the uniform. Maybe a little part of that is me thumbing my nose at him?" He lowered his arms and gave another shrug, this time with a grin. "I don't know. Let's just say he'll be apprehensive, to start. I'm just here to do my job."

The Tellarite nodded slowly. “That’s all that can be asked of any of us, Leo. We’ve all got our own demons, Keller included. I’ve had some old friends with the misfortune of serving with him, so I know something of what you must have gone through. Regardless of how he reacts to your presence, I’m glad to have you aboard. I can use all the help I can get, and I’m not too proud to ask for a hand when it’s needed.”

"I'm a full-service lawyer," Leo noted. "I still carry my line officer qualification, so if you need me in a non-lawyerly capacity, the offer's on the table."

“I’ll have Jarrod plug you into the duty officer’s rotation, then. Never hurts to have another experienced officer in the center seat, and it gives my senior officers another few hours of precious rack-time.”

"Anything I can do for your team," Leo promised. "Until we get our hands on Keller, I'm just live-lumber, otherwise."

* * *

The four vessels faced off across the invisible border from one another at a distance of ten-thousand kilometers. A Gorn Ravager-class cruiser escorted by a pair of flanking hunters had been dispatched in response to Reykjavík’s request for parlay.

Trujillo had little experience interacting with the enigmatic Gorn, her sole encounter with them having come four years earlier during a brief incursion into Federation territory by Gorn separatists seeking to establish their own fiefdom in an already inhabited system.

There had been precious little talking during that encounter, with the Gorn government only too happy to see potential insurgents expunged by Starfleet.

“I am Commodore Nandi Trujillo of the Federation Starfleet. I’ve come to discuss the recent incidents along our mutual border.”

There was a blur of indistinct motion on the viewer, then the menacing visage of a reptilian face came into focus, prominent teeth glistening. A series of clicks and hisses issued forth, which the Universal Translator obediently rendered into Federation Standard.

Trujillo was suddenly reminded of a Terran dinosaur exhibit her father had taken her to at the age of six. The holographic T-Rex had moved in much the same fashion, and she felt a thrill of dread as her mid-brain screamed at her that a predator was near.

“What is meaning of attack? Federation always predictable/non-threat/non-aggressor. Now Federation attacks. Does Federation intend to be unpredictable/threat/aggressor now?”

Trujillo muted the transmission, looking to Ops. “Mister Shukla, is there something wrong with the UT? Their transmission’s coming across very stilted.”

“UT lingua-matrix is showing ninety-eight-point-four percent efficacy, sir. I’d surmise this is just how they communicate in real-time, Commodore.”

“Understood,” she replied, then toggled the transmission open. “No, it is not our intention to be a threat. The attack appears to be the work of a single ship, operating without authorization. Do you understand the concept of a rogue ship? It’s like when your separatist Gu’zodid clan tried to seize Boh-Rochele from us. They were operating without the official sanction of your government.”

“We understand rogue ship,” came the Gorn leader’s reply, the even tones of the UT’s translation a jarring counterpoint to the hissing, clicking, growling speech issuing from the reptilian. “What guarantee you give us that this not happen again? Elder cadre orders calm, no further attacks on Federation, but if Federation strikes again, Hunter Cadre will seize command and will strike many targets. Many planets, many colonies, many outposts.”

“We have been sent to retrieve the ship that attacked you. Its crew will be subject to our laws, which they certainly appear to have violated.”

“Insufficient,” came the abrupt reply. “Federation may retrieve ship, but crew that attacked Hegemony will remain with us. Crew will incubate and feed Gorn young and will atone for attack in this way.”

“Unacceptable,” Trujillo parried. “The crew may not all bear the guilt for this attack. Our chain-of-command demands obedience of subordinates to their leaders. This must be decided by our justice system.”

“Then leaders turned over to Hegemony?” the Gorn asked pointedly.

“Also unacceptable,” Trujillo said. “Gorn reprisals do not constitute justice. Being eaten or used to gestate your young are not punishments the Federation is willing to entertain.”

“Insufficient,” the Gorn repeated. “If compensation of ship leaders is not made, Hegemony will continue raids against Federation planets and outposts until parity has been achieved.”

An eye for an eye, eh? Trujillo thought dourly.

“There must be another way, some kind of compromise we can reach?” Trujillo asked hopefully.

“We will discuss,” the Gorn officer voiced as the visual pickup struggled to follow its erratic movements. “You will wait.”

The transmission ended abruptly and Trujillo was left staring at the bow-on view of the three Gorn warships.

“Charming,” she remarked acidly to no one in particular.

* * *

NCC-2544 (USS Repulse)
Approaching Gorn Hegemony territory, Warp 5
June 14, 2322
Main Bridge

The console's soft beep drew immediate attention. Lieutenant Commander Vara's fingers paused, then swiftly relayed the news, "XO, we're receiving flash traffic on the Starfleet emergency channel." A hushed silence settled; everyone aboard knew the weight carried by any message using that particular frequency.

With practiced elegance, T'Rel gently set her PADD on the captain's chair armrest and approached Vara's station. Flash traffic demanded firsthand validation by the ship's second-in-command. "It would appear so. Please proceed with authentication."

Vara responded with a determined nod, her fingers fluttering over her station, "Aye, sir."

T'Rel, ensuring her voice reached the ship's sensitive interfaces, called out, "Captain, XO. Flash traffic protocol."

Before the air could settle, Keller's voice, edged with irritation, crackled from the overhead, "XO, Captain. Acknowledged. I'll be there directly. Out."

The bridge doors swished open revealing Keller, his bomber jacket hastily thrown over a stark white turtleneck. Unbuttoned, it spoke to his urgency. His gaze darted around as he spoke sharply, "Report."

As the weight of the captain's presence settled, S'ran's deep voice resonated, "Captain on the bridge." T'Rel, Vara, and S'ran focused intently on Lieutenant Xi Ha-vatoreii, seated at the communications console.

Meeting Keller's impatient eyes, T'Rel began, "Sir-"

Keller's voice, now sharp with frustration, cut through, "What the hell is going on? This is flash traffic protocol? Three of my senior officers standing around doing nothing? Where's the god-damned message?"

Displaying Vulcan stoicism, T'Rel waited a beat before answering, "Captain, the message is multi-media. There is an audio and video component, however-"

Dismissing her with a wave, Keller commanded, "On main viewer. Now."

T'Rel signaled with a graceful nod to the Efrosian officer, "Lieutenant, please play the message for the captain on the main viewer."

The viewscreen flickered with Ha-vatoreii's touch, submerging the bridge in a torrent of subspace interference. Only fragmented audio fought its way through, with only flashes of Trujillo's visage as she spoke. "This messa-... Priority-One… -crypted and secured… Trujillo, commandi-... -chment Delta… associated with… Federation spac-... -tory of the Gorn Hegemo-... declaration of hostil-... government-... -rink of war with-... provocation. -constitute willful… hostilities with a foreign pow-... -are hereby official-... -he clock is ticking."

As the transmission ended, Keller's mounting frustration was palpable. "What the hell is this?! What happened to the message?!"

Positioning herself as a buffer between Keller and the comms officer, T'Rel explained, "The integrity of the transmission has been compromised, likely by a subspace event some one-point-seven-seven parsecs distant. We believe it to be a graviton-induced fissure, which has distorted our reception. We could, however, decrypt parts of the fragmented message."

Taking a moment to collect himself, Keller pondered, "Whatever Commodore Trujillo was trying to tell us required her to break radio silence; we know that much. But, I can't be sure she was trying to tell us that the Gorn declared war on the Federation."

Carefully choosing her words, T'Rel softly cautioned, "Captain, I would advise against attempting to draw any conclusions from this message."

Keller's gaze locked onto Ha-vatoreii, sharp and probing. "And that's the best you can do, Mister?"

With a protective air, T'Rel intervened before the lieutenant could respond, "Sir, I recommend we alter course to better receive the message. It will continue to loop until acknowledged."

Keller's icy stare landed on T'Rel. He practically shoved himself out of his chair, and signaled Lieutenant Thalix. "Set a course, maximum warp. We need that full message."

* * *

USS Reykjavík, NCC-3109

Captain Tarrant looked up from his workstation as Lieutenant(j.g.) Garrett entered what until a few days earlier had been her astrometrics lab. For the duration of this mission, it had been reallocated to Tarrant to use as an intelligence coordination center.

“Lieutenant, thanks for coming down here so quickly… especially seeing as how I’ve chased you out of your own workspace.”

Garrett gave him an easy smile. “It’s no problem, Captain, glad to be of assistance. You wanted me to see something?”

Tarrant stood, gesturing to the seat he’d just occupied. “Indeed. My old intel analyst’s brain is having difficulty deciphering something, and I’ve a sneaking suspicion I need a science officer’s expertise.”

Garrett moved to seat herself at the workstation. “Okay, what am I looking at, sir? I hope you’re not asking me to try and help you decrypt something, because that is most definitely not my area of expertise.”

“No, no decoding work, thankfully.” The Intelligence officer appeared sheepish. “Let me preface this by saying I’ve just been granted access to this data, so please don’t think I’ve been holding out on the commodore.”

Garrett digested that amiably. “That’s good enough for me, sir. We junior officers aren’t in a position to question much of anything, let alone render value judgements.”

Tarrant nodded. “Fair enough. Okay, about an hour ago I was advised by Intel that they’d dispatched a stealth reconnaissance probe into Gorn territory to try and determine if the Gorn were making preparations for another cross-border incursion that we couldn’t see with standard sensors from our side of the border.”

He toggled the console, calling up an image of a star field highlighted by a bright white eruption of what appeared to be some form of energy. Various analytics began to overlay the image as a host of sensor returns from the phenomenon began to coalesce.

“We picked this up near where Repulse reportedly attacked the Gorn research facility. Can you explain what it is we’re seeing here?”

Garrett went to work, scrolling through a veritable river of data as she flipped back and forth between multiple images and scan results.

It took substantially less time than Tarrant had feared it might.

Tarrant realized that the color had drained from Garrett’s features as she looked up at him. “We need to talk to the commodore, sir. Now.”

* * *

Sweet critter design and development with the gorn. Also enjoying Leo Verde's interaction with Glal - a runaway fan favorite character. I'm also a fan of the discussion around Tellarite Fizz - alien foods and drink should be... alien... And their presence in the story lends strong verisimilitude.

Thanks!! rbs

@Gibraltar I really enjoy how you strike such an excellent balance in your portrayal of Starfleet. The militaristic aspect is so well done, yet doesn't dominate; you can tell the characters are ultimately explorers at heart, and while some are militarily minded or gifted, would certainly prefer peaceful solutions.

It seems in addition to the parallels to Captain Maxwell, we also have a little Crimson Tide as well. Curious as to how this plays out.

BrotherBenny said:

It seems in addition to the parallels to Captain Maxwell, we also have a little Crimson Tide as well. Curious as to how this plays out.

Click to expand...

Yeah, that was me. I couldn't figure out a better way to do an emergency protocol that required authentication, so I cribbed from Crimson Tide. We're kind of well before the advent of TNG's use of the "Code 47."

* * *
“Why the hell is there a goddamn intel probe sniffing around the Gorn facility our starship just annihilated?”

This was Trujillo’s initial reaction to the news.

“Are we trying to start a war? Because if so, we’re doing a damn fine job of it!”

Tarrant and Garrett had found Trujillo already in a video-conference with Verde over subspace. He had remained connected to hear Tarrant’s revelation about the recon probe.

Tarrant had his hands up, though whether in a warding gesture or primary defensive stance was unclear. “Commodore, I understand your frustration, but I was only made aware of its presence and telemetry a little while ago. I was going to brief you on the revelation of this asset, but I couldn’t quite grasp what I was seeing, so I asked for Mister Garrett’s assistance.”

Trujillo turned her desktop viewer towards the new arrivals so Verde could participate in the conversation.

“Who’s calling the shots on this?” Trujillo inquired insistently. “I can’t have someone from Intelligence sling-shotting probes into a powder-keg like this without my knowledge or authorization. Give me a name, Captain.”

“Rear-Admiral Constance, sir. Heading up the StellarSpatial Telemetry Office with Intel.”

Trujillo nodded. “Thank you. Now I know who to sick Admiral Saavik on.” She gestured for Tarrant and Garrett to be seated. “Now, please tell me what’s so important that you two rushed in here like your hair was on fire?”

Tarrant looked to Garrett. “Sir, I’d better let the lieutenant explain.”

Garrett took a moment to collect her thoughts and push the admiralty-level venom she’d just been exposed to into a tightly locked box in her subconscious.

“Sir, whatever the Gorn were researching at that facility, its destruction appears to have caused a highly localized rupture in space/time. It appears similar to what Federation science has conjectured to be a White Hole, an energy fountain spewing matter, radiation and gravimetric shockwaves into our dimension from… well, someplace else.”

Trujillo quirked an eyebrow. “Someplace else?”

“Another dimension, sir. Possibly one of pure energy, or potentially energy evulsing from a rupture of one of the energetic membranes between dimensions.”

Trujillo slumped back against her desk, partially sitting on its edge. “What could do that?”

Garrett cast a quick glance at Tarrant before answering. “If I had to guess, sir, I’d put my latinum on isolytic weapons. If that’s what they were researching, they might have had dozens of the weapons stored there. That many devices detonating in concert might theoretically create such a trans-dimensional tear.”

“Subspace ordinance?” Trujillo bowed her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose to try and forestall the headache that was quickly forming. “We never did get the Gorn to sign the treaty banning those, did we?”

On the small screen atop her desk, Leo's eyes widened as he noted, "I think we count ourselves lucky we got them to sign the one about Cestus III."

Tarrant appeared deep in thought for a long moment. “Commodore, I’m a bit uncomfortable accepting that the supposedly secret Gorn research facility that a rogue starship captain apparently decided to attack without authorization just happens to be one in which they’re researching some of the deadliest and most unpredictable weapons known to science.”

Trujillo held up a hand. “Hang on, Captain. I’m right there with you, but I need to know more about what this White Hole phenomenon is and what its ramifications might be.”

Garrett, sensing that she was in the spotlight once again, offered, “I have absolutely no idea what this thing might do, sir. It could continue to expand, or it might collapse on its own. Starfleet’s only ever detected one of these previously, and it’s deep in the Delta Quadrant, almost at the edge of the galaxy. This one in Gorn space has apparently affected subspace communications in the area, as the intel probe had to withdraw nearly back to the border to be able to broadcast the telemetry”

Leo sighed. "Oh, no…"

Trujillo glanced towards her desktop interface. “Leo?”

He reached forward, out of the visual pickup and pulled back his display device. "You've got authenticated orders pumping out at max volume on repeat. If the probe had to pull back to transmit home, then Repulse may have only received a partial. And as you're very aware, under those circumstances, a ship on that kind of mission…" He trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.

“You’re suggesting I may have inadvertently given Captain Keller an ‘open season’ notice on the Gorn by way of an incomplete order?” Trujillo asked, aghast at the idea. “I really don’t see how even a partial intercept of my message could be misconstrued in that way, though.”

"Not originally, but now that nightmare is in my head, thanks," Leo replied wryly. "No, my point is that if he's under orders or has any kind of mandate… then your message isn't likely getting through the interference, if he's operating behind the effects of this White Hole. At best, he only got a fragment of your message. He doesn't know he needs to cease operations and Romeo-Tango-Bravo, post-haste."

Trujillo’s existing frown increased threefold. “Wait… what do you mean, ‘if he’s under orders?’ We’ve confirmed with Command that no orders were issued for anyone to violate Gorn territory, and certainly not to attack any of their installations.”

With a deep, controlled breath, Leo shook his head. "I'm looking at this as though I had to defend Keller in a court-martial, sir. Even though this is conjecture at best, given that Keller's record as a CO is pretty clear… His actions have proven that a border nation has been developing weapons of utter catastrophe to the interfold layer." His eyes drifted over to Tarrant for support of his hypothesis, "Captain, back me up, here. Doesn't this sound like plausible deniability?"

Tarrant nodded slowly, looking pained. “Unfortunately, yes, Commander. It does. Though I can’t think of Starfleet Command doing anything like this for decades. Not since… well, they sent Captain Kirk to steal a Romulan cloaking device back in the '60’s and would have disavowed him had he failed.”

Trujillo was now scowling. “Are the two of you telling me that this whole song and dance we’re doing here may be cover for someone’s hare-brained black op?” She paused and looked to Garrett. “Lieutenant, my apologies, but I’m going to have to use some adult language with these gentlemen and I need you to clear out of the compartment.”

Garrett nodded and abandoned the ready room without another word.

"I know it's a stretch," Leo started after waiting, his tone underscored by his reticence. "Glal, Jarrod, and I have been wracking our brains trying to get inside Keller's head. You know my history with Keller, but Glal and Jarrod are helping me remain objective. This news about the probe, it's like a new piece of the puzzle. It could help build a different story for Keller's defense, one that introduces reasonable doubt about him acting alone and going completely out of character."

“It’s… possible, sir,” Tarrant confessed, “however unlikely. It’s happened before, but only under the most extreme circumstances.” The Intel officer looked over to Verde on the desktop display. “The question is, would Captain Keller accept such extreme orders, knowing that he might well be disavowed by Starfleet if he and Repulse were captured?”

"Hell, no, sir," Leo responded with conviction. "If he had orders to operate against the Gorn, then he has to be absolutely convinced that he is covered. He would never risk his career like this. I'll stake my own career on that, Captain." His eyes tracked back to Trujillo, and added, "Commodore."

Trujillo heaved a heavy sigh. “Okay, we’re wandering into complete conjectural territory here, gentlemen. None of this gets us any closer to locating Repulse or mollifying the Gorn. What this does do is potentially give us some leverage with the Hegemony. I have a sneaking suspicion that neither their government nor their military has the first notion of what to do about this hole that’s been blown open in their space.”

She pointed towards the ready room doors out onto the bridge. “I, on the other hand, have two of the Fleet’s finest science officers out there.” Trujillo looked from Tarrant to Verde on the screen. “Any objections to me offering our scientific assistance as a carrot? It’s a bit more difficult to justify attacking someone if they’re actively trying to help you. Not impossible, mind you, just harder.”

"Speaking strictly as your legal officer," Leo began, his eyes focused on the screen, "that's within the scope of your written orders, Commodore." He glanced at the device in his hand. "No objections here."

Tarrant raised his hands in a gesture of mock-surrender. “If it saves lives, sir, and here I’ll admit to selfishly thinking of my own in this circumstance, I’m absolutely for it.”

* * *

In all of my adventures or any of my stories, I’ve never encountered the Gorn. I hope this goes better than Cestus III. We don’t have any Metrons this time to keep us from ending up D-E-A-D.

Adding a white hole to this story adds an interesting physics angle. Gonna have to break out some NGT and a few other scidudes and dig into this a little. I'm a total nerd for these sorts of storylines. And plenty of covert skullduggery to keep it spicy and Trujillo salty. A fun wrinkle!

Thanks!! rbs

Very interesting. Given the picture you'd already painted of Keller, I had a sneaking suspicion he and his crew at least thought they were operating under orders. Curiouser and curiouser.

* * *

The unabashed excitement evidenced by both women ignited the beginning of the headache Trujillo was sure to come.

Garrett began, “Sir, just as nothing known, not matter, energy, light or information can escape the event horizon of a black hole, none of these things are believed to be able to penetrate the event horizon of a white hole.”

Davula offered, “It might be best to think of a white hole as a geyser erupting so forcefully nothing can be introduced into its venting aperture.”

Garrett nodded, “Right, yes. And given that situation, our ability to introduce something into the phenomena to initiate its collapse is effectively zero.”

“Our understanding of the white hole phenomena begins with Einstein’s equations and has been enhanced by the 22nd century work of Sopek of Vulcan,” the younger woman continued. “White holes are predicted as part of a solution to the Einstein field equations known as the maximally extended version of the Schwarzschild metric, describing an eternal black hole with no charge and no rotation.”

Trujillo held up a hand in a gesture of abeyance. “Let’s dumb this down to the level of your poor CO who hasn’t attended an academy astrophysics course in the better part of a quarter century, shall we?”

A blush crept up Garrett’s neck to color her cheeks. “Of course, sir. I’m sorry. In effect, we can’t jam something into the maw of this thing to snuff it out. However, if we were to tunnel into a layer of subspace contiguous to where this eruption originates, we might be able to extinguish it.”

“Tunnel how?”

“Utilizing our navigational deflector, and those of other ships in our task force. We’d have to modify and re-tune them, but it’s the only component aboard capable of channeling that much power with the kind of focus we require.”

Trujillo’s discomfort was evident. “Do the Gorn have the technology to initiate such a procedure?”

The two officers looked at one another.

“I… uh, I’m not sure, sir,” Garrett confessed.

“I’m not at all comfortable with multiple starships taking their navigational deflectors offline long enough to perform this ‘tunneling’ you’re proposing while inside Gorn territory. It would effectively strand the ships at sub-light speeds and leave them vulnerable to Gorn attack.”

“But sir, if we created this damage, shouldn’t we be the ones to fix it?” Garrett asked, guileless.

“The Gorn are a mercurial species, Lieutenant,” Trujillo said. “They could easily agree to allow us to try this tunneling process, only to attack us in the midst of our efforts. They’re highly unpredictable at the best of times, let alone when they’ve been justifiably provoked.”

Garrett looked crestfallen. “I understand, sir.”

Trujillo smiled in response. “That wasn’t an invitation for you to give up, Mister Garrett. Please, both of you continue with your research into the possibility of using this technique. We may be able to present it to the Gorn as a peace offering of a kind.”

The two women nodded in unison, their enthusiasm reigniting.

* * *

* * *

NCC-3717 (USS Gol)

“Commander, new sensor contact at long range. No transponder ID, but the vessel reads as an Excelsior-class by mass and configuration.”

Whereas Lieutenant Commander Jarrod wanted to expel a heavy sigh and mutter ‘finally’, he held that impulse in check. He was the XO and at present, the duty officer on the bridge, and thus must conform to regs… or more so than he might otherwise. “Ops, confirm sensor contact. Comms, send challenge hail and our encoded ID. Helm, alter course to intercept, best speed.”

Jarrod tapped his combadge, “Captain to the bridge.”

* * *

NCC-2544 (USS Repulse)

Keller narrowed his eyes toward T'Rel. "What do you mean the message stopped transmitting? You said it would loop until acknowledged," his tone, though quiet, held a knife's edge.

"Sir, once we cleared the interference, it seems the source ceased transmission," T'Rel replied, keeping her poise under the circumstances. "Reason unknown."

He thrust himself from his seat, not bothering to hide his agitation. "My patience is reaching its limits, XO. We're under strict orders to maintain radio silence and we're diverting from the mission to chase down message fragments and a trumped-up commodore." His hands clasped at the small of his back as he paced from the center of the bridge to where T'Rel stood on the perimeter. "You understand there can be no further delays, don't you?"

T'Rel's eyes shifted over toward the communications position, where Lieutenant Ha-vatoreii's maroon-covered back showed his attentiveness toward his duty. Her gaze reached out almost as a silent plea for any information.

As though by her will, the lieutenant turned to announce, "Captain, we have the flash traffic in whole, now. It appears the message was on a delayed cycle from the source."

Keller turned his scowl away from T'Rel and focused it on the lieutenant. "On screen!"

"Aye, sir," replied Ha-vatoreii immediately. Then, he hesitated. "Sir, incoming challenge and hail from the starship Gol."

The captain furrowed his brow. "Gol?" He turned back to T'Rel, "Get me everything you got on that ship and her captain." He then ordered, "Let's hear the commodore's message."

The viewscreen blinked away from the warp-distorted stars to show the visage of Commodore Trujillo, clearly and without the interference from before. She stared into the visual pickup and intoned, “This message is a Priority-One Communique, and is being broadcast on an encrypted and secured Starfleet frequency. This is Commodore Nandi Trujillo, commanding USS Reykjavík and Rapid Response Detachment Delta.

“Any Starfleet personnel receiving this message who are associated with USS Repulse, NCC-2544, you are directed and required to return immediately to Federation space and submit yourself for inspection and investigation into the events surrounding your actions within the recognized territory of the Gorn Hegemony.

“There has been no declaration of hostilities between our two governments, and your actions have pushed the Federation and the Gorn Hegemony to the brink of war without explanation or known provocation.

“Failure to comply with these orders will constitute willful insubordination, in addition to potential charges of Conduct Unbecoming for initiating hostilities with a foreign power without authorization.

“Captain Keller, you and your crew are hereby officially recalled. The clock is ticking.”

One the message finished, the atmosphere of the bridge changed considerably. T'Rel paused her lookup of Gol's information in the ship's computer to give the message her full attention, and now with the weight of Trujillo's words hanging in the air, she checked Keller's reaction before doing anything further.

Keller wore a red-faced scowl on his features. "'Conduct Unbecoming?!' How dare she!"

Lieutenant Ha-vatoreii called out, "Captain, Gol is awaiting our response."

T'Rel returned to her display device and called up the information. "Gol is an Akyazi-class perimeter action ship, commanded by Commander Glal." She transferred her findings to the main viewscreen, overlaying the frozen face of Commodore Trujillo.

The captain returned to his seat, saying nothing in response to either officer. His own gaze drifted to the deck as he moved slowly into a sitting position.

Ha-vatoreii tried once more. "Captain?"

"Give me a damned moment, Lieutenant!" Keller snapped at the communications officer. "XO?"

"Sir?" replied T'Rel, after raising a reassuring hand toward Ha-vatoreii.

"Given that the Commodore has sent these orders… in your interpretation, does the radio silence order still apply?" he asked her, his tone much softer than before.

She called up the ship's logs to locate the precise verbiage of their mission orders. Her long fingers tapped the inputs quickly, though her quarry eluded her after a full minute of searching. "Captain," she said with uncertainty, "I'm unable to locate our orders in the ship's computer."

* * *

Glal strode out of the turbolift onto Gol’s bridge with Leo hot on his heels, sliding into the chair as Jarrod relinquished it and headed to his own post.

“No response as yet to our challenge hails, sir,” Jarrod advised.

Glal grunted sourly and shot a glance at Leo. “He seems to be insisting on observing comms silence. I know Reykjavík’s still broadcasting the recall order, so he should have heard it by now. I’m open to ideas on how we play this, Commander.”

Leo glanced at the tactical display from just over the shoulder of the person seated there. "Well… she's just broken free of the interference, so they're probably listening to the commodore's orders clearly for the first time." He turned back toward Glal and smirked. "Wish I could be a fly on that bulkhead, listening in, right?"

Glal’s eyes bulged as he struggled to maintain his composure. He cleared his throat loudly, eyes watering. “No comment.”

Leo held his smirk. With a pat on the shoulder of the lieutenant junior grade seated at tactical, he asked, "No change in Repulse's course or speed, so far?"

The lieutenant replied, "No, sir. Still at warp eleven, headed for our border. They'll reach our position in twenty minutes if they hold their speed."

"Alright, thanks," Leo noted with a succinct nod. "This ship is pretty stealthy, right? Likely, they don't even know we're right here, watching them." He addressed Glal and Jarrod. "Recommend we reposition ourselves to make certain Keller can see us. And by now, you're going to want to order him to divert. He's had enough time to ponder and respond to the initial hail." He paused, "Hey, we should also maybe let the commodore know that we found them, Skip."

Glal gestured to the text interface on his armrest display. “I did that three minutes ago. The commodore doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” He smirked within his thatchy beard at Leo. “We’re stealthy, but Repulse’s sensors are top of the line and a helluva lot more powerful than ours. If we can see her, you can be sure she’s seen us for a while now.”

"Then definitely order her to divert and respond," Leo affirmed, his lips pulling back into a grimace. "If he deigns to respond, stand ready to take some verbal damage. He's going to pull rank on you every chance he gets."

Glal growled from deep within his throat. “And we’ll see how far that gets him.” He gestured towards Jarrod’s station on the bridge’s upper level. “Repeat the challenge hail.”

Jarrod turned to do just that, only to raise an eyebrow as he touched a hand to his comms earpiece. “We have a response coming in from Repulse, sir. Visual comms.”

Glal sat back in his chair, his tusks quivering with anticipation. “By all means, XO. Let’s not keep the captain waiting.” He looked over at Leo, the Tellarite’s eyes sparkling with mischief. “Tuck in here right next to my chair. Don’t be bashful.”

* * *

I have a bad suspicious that we might see a Federation starship fire upon another Federation starship.