Blooded: A Dark Territory Tale

[DarKush]

BLOODED:
A DARK TERRITORY TALE

USS Kitty Hawk
Private Quarters
2359

Lt. Terrence Shamshuni Glover did his best to get out of bed quietly. His toes ran through the cool, thick carpet as he walked over to the slanted port window that bathed his cabin in a muted glow. He glanced out the window and placed his hand on the chilled pain. There was nothing the ship’s environmental controls could do against the cold touch of space.

“Terrence,” he heard the sleepy voice behind him, then the soft footfalls. He kept his gaze on the window, or more importantly on the starship outside of it. “I can’t believe you would rather stare out as some old creaky starship instead of cuddle with me,” his lover replied, kneading his right shoulder.

“Old, creaky?” Glover replied with a half-smile. He turned back to her and gestured at his cramped room. “That’s an Ambassador-class out there, a whole lot more advanced than this old bucket of bolts,” he said with derision.

“Hey, this bucket of bolts just saved our hides from the Cardassians,” Lt. Susan Bano said, a bit defensively, waving a hand through her blond curls in frustration. As the junior operations officer, she had a special affinity for the Kitty Hawk. The Bolian-human hybrid often claimed that she had personally reviewed every circuit board and isolinear chip on the venerable Constellation-class ship. She and Pedro could talk for days about the ship’s systems with a degree of intimacy that even escaped Glover.

He knew the vessel, but he didn’t know it like they did. Normally his competitive juices kicked in if he ever felt anyone could show him up, in anything, but he had never felt that attached to the Kitty Hawk, and there was the rub.

“I thought you would enjoy being without a roommate until our next refit,” the pale blue woman added. The pajamas she wore were as sky blue as her complexion.

“Pedro’s my best friend,” Glover said tightly, and now his former roommate, he didn’t need to add.

“I know that,” Bano said drolly, not picking up on Terrence’s chilled mood. “I was at his farewell party remember? My head’s still ringing from that Kolvoord Starburst,” she shook her hand and winced before chuckling. The Starburst was an alcoholic concoction that Pedro Rojas had created and its ingredients were one of the few things the engineer wouldn’t share with him.

Pedro had named it in honor of Terrence’s stint in the Academy’s Nova Squadron. The Novas, at Terrence’s prodding, had performed the dangerous maneuver to win the ’54 Rigel Cup. Rojas had been a tech for the rival Epsilon Squadron. Glover hadn’t known that until they had both been placed in the same cabin as ensigns.

Terrence hadn’t paid much attention to the supporting cast behind the hated Epsilon. During his time on Nova Squad, his focus had been on their star pilot, Justine Haas. But Pedro knew who he was right off and the fight for the ’54 Cup was reborn. After four years though, the rivalry had winnowed down to some occasion good natured ribbing during the annual cup competition.

Terrence was going to miss that trash talking, among other things. “You’re upset, aren’t you?” Bano said with compassion. “I know how much you’re going to miss him.”

The USS Carolina had rendezvoused with the Kitty Hawk to pick up Pedro, among several other officers. The ship was due for a deployment along the Cardassian front and needed to fill up key personnel gaps immediately. Pedro had transported over a couple hours ago, after a night of raucousness that the usually surly captain not only permitted but actually partook in a little.

“Well,” Glover paused, not able to find the words, “It’ll be less messy in here,” he tried to joke away his discomfiture. Pedro had never been one for tidiness, which was odd since he was meticulous when it came to his engineering work.

“Terrence you know you can talk to me,” Susan said, in an attempt to get him to open up, but he just didn’t feel like going deeper into the thicket of emotions he was experiencing at the moment. Instead he wrapped his arms around Bano and pulled her close. Her arms locked around his waist. He jumped slightly as she squeezed his buns.

“You’re overdressed,” she remarked, tugging at his black boxer shorts. It was the only article of clothing Glover had on.

“Well I guess you’re going to have to do something about that,” he smiled rakishly. She matched the expression as she continued tugging his shorts downward.
*****************************************************************

 

[DarKush]

*****************************************************************
USS Kitty Hawk
Main Bridge

“I asked you a question Mr. Glover?” The first officer said, with a tinge of impatience. It woke Terrence from his musings.

“Excuse me sir?” He asked sheepishly, his face growing hot with embarrassment.

“Daydreaming Mr. Glover,” Commander Nate Ferguson asked, punctuating it with an impish smile. “That’s not your M.O.”

“Uh, no sir,” Terrence said, tensing up. “It is not.” Several months ago, before Kitty Hawk’s last assignment along the Cardassian border, the ship’s previous executive officer, Banti Awokou had taken command of Starship Fuji. Awokou had been a valued mentor and he still missed the man’s counsel. He hadn’t warmed to his easygoing replacement, though not for lack of trying on Ferguson’s part. It seemed like the man wanted to be everyone’s friend. Well, Glover wasn’t drinking the synthehol.

“Has the Level-2 diagnostic of the ship’s tactical systems been completed yet?” Commander Ferguson asked. The graying man was currently sitting in the command chair while Captain Gorik was in the ready room. The executive officer had ordered the scan as soon as the captain had stomped off the bridge, to take a private message from Starfleet Command. More than likely the Kitty Hawk was being called back to the front. Ferguson had also quickly shushed the several groans emitted in the captain’s wake.

There seemed to be no end to the war with the Cardassians, it dragged on year after year, generally low intensity, with the occasional spikes. The last several years had seen an increase in combat and for the last six months Kitty Hawk had been on combat duty. Fortunately the casualties had been light, yet the assignment had left everyone exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Most of the crew, Terrence, included, had been looking forward to a respite.

Kitty Hawk had been assigned to chart a stellar nursery in the Panak sector for four months before its scheduled retrofitting. After that, Glover surmised that it would be back to the battlefield. He had little hope that the war would be over by then. Both the Federation and the Cardassians seemed content with attrition.

“I’ll check that now sir,” Terrence said, wanting to kick himself as he brought up the information on his monitor. “The scan is 75% complete.” Ferguson nodded.

“Carry on, err, with whatever you were doing,” he smiled.

“Sir I,” Glover began, but the man made a dismissive wave. Unable to stop himself, Glover glanced into the command well, at the navigation station starboard of the bow. Junior Lt. Brendan Rossa was looking at him with a barely suppressed smirk. Terrence shifted his jaw, grinding his teeth together to keep from saying what was on his mind. Along with Ferguson, Rossa was new personnel, from the Tecumseh. Just six months out of the Academy, Rossa’s quick thinking during a Cardassian ambush had saved his ship and propelled him from ensign to a junior lieutenant in an eye blink, which wasn’t a surprise to many due to his famous lineage.

The Rossa family’s record of Starfleet service predated even the Glovers. And each succeeding generation of Rossas had somehow found a way to distinguish themselves since the Earth-Romulan War. Many in the press saw Brendan’s actions on the Tecumseh as his coming out party, and the young man hadn’t disabused them of the notion. Rossa had quickly requested a transfer to stay in the fight while the Tecumseh was being repaired. Even more galling were reports that Rossa had hit Titan’s Turn at .04c.

The best Terrence ever got was .05c while making the Jovian Run. Some members of the crew treated the young man like he was a celebrity; Terrence wasn’t in that number. Though he chastised himself for the spike of disfavor; everyone knew that Rossa’s accomplishments were shadowed, and probably driven by, the loss of his brother, sister-in-law, and nephew during the Talarian attack on Galen IV, only two years ago. Susan had told him more than once that his griping was petty and mean-spirited, and Glover was forced to agree, but he couldn’t help how he felt. Rossa was a jerk.

“No need to explain, but I want to be informed the nanosecond the diagnostic has finished,” Ferguson replied.

“Yes sir,” Terrence said quickly, and got back to work. He watched his display screen like a hawk, grinding his teeth with impatience as the scan winded its way through the ship’s system. Anger eventually began gnawing at his concentration. The eyes he felt on his back didn’t help either. He glanced directly behind him. Lt. Bano was clearly more interested in his well being than her duties.

He scowled at her and nodded curtly at her station. It wouldn’t do for Ferguson or the senior ops officer to catch her not attending her station. Bano caught his drift, but shrugged defiantly. He couldn’t help but grin. Having Susan in his life had definitely made some of the rough patches he encountered manageable. The half-Bolian definitely understood how much he prided himself on doing an excellent job and always being on the mark. She knew how much he had to be stewing right now, and he was grateful that at least someone else aboard the ship got him, now that Pedro had departed. Satisfied that he was at least capable of smiling, Susan slid back around in her seat.

A few seconds later, Terrence’s terminal trilled. “Commander, the scan is complete.”

“Good work Mr. Glover,” Ferguson remarked, punctuating it with a smile. Terrence shrank inside. It was obviously not good work and to point out that it was merely emphasized that it wasn’t.

Terrence nodded tightly in response, and now begun counting the minutes until his shift was over. He needed some Rec Room time, and out of pity, he hoped no one took him up on a mok’bara challenge. Most of the veterans aboard Kitty Hawk knew of his growing proficiency with the Klingon martial art form. He smiled devilishly imagining the day he caught Rossa in the recreation center. He was certain that the cocky youngster wouldn’t be able to resist the challenge.

The daydream popped like a balloon when Captain Gorik strode out of his ready room. The stout, amber-furred Tellarite didn’t go for his chair. Instead he took up a position between the helm and navigation controls. He wanted an audience, Glover could see, always amused at the man’s occasional theatrics. The small conversations and daily grind paused as everyone waited, some with bated breath.

“Change of plans,” the captain finally said, with a contrarian relish as he had to see some of the unfulfilled looks on the faces of some crewmembers. He didn’t speak again until he sat back down, “Helm, change course.”

“Where to sir?” Lt. Raayna, the beautiful but imposing Capellan pilot asked.

“The Tzenkethi border,” he grumbled, the revelation like a dropped stone disquieting a sea.

“Aye sir,” the Capellan said.

“Maximum warp.” Glover felt the thrum of the engines beneath his feet. Their timbre changed and he felt the ship smoothly shifting direction.

“Guess the gaseous anomalies are out,” Terrence heard Lt. Commander Bek’ele murmur from the starboard science station. The Xyrillian sounded disappointed, but Glover surprisingly found he wasn’t. Despite surviving a few months in a war zone, his pulse quickened at the thought of more adventure. He suddenly needed something to shoot at.

Like a shot Gorik was out of his chair. He was half-way up out of the well before he announced, “Meeting in the conference room in five minutes. Mr. Ferguson inform the rest of the senior staff.”

“Yes sir,” the first officer said, immediately setting to that task as the seniors present began standing up.

“Oh, Lieutenants Glover, Raayna, Rossa, and Bano, I want you present as well,” through the man’s thick mustache and beard Terrence thought he saw the hint of a smile, “You might learn something,” he added.
**************************************************************

 

[DarKush]

***************************************************************
USS Kitty Hawk
Conference Room

The ship’s main meeting room was as cramped as everything else on the ship, Glover thought as he slipped into a seat between Raayna and Lt. Bek’ele. Terrence shifted uncomfortably beside the bronze-hued Xyrillian, wishing to keep a bit of distance. The Xyrillian was three months pregnant. Males carried children in the Xyrillian species, and once a Xyrillian had impregnated a human male, Bek’ele often claimed, generally to skepticism.

Glover had decided to verify the man’s claims and found them to be accurate. Even though the data said that only females could inseminate, Terrence wasn’t taking any chances. Pregnancy could happen through only minor contact and he didn’t want to take any chances.

Across from him sat Rossa and Susan. Terrence felt a twinge of envy when Brendan touched her arm as they shared a joke.

Gorik loudly cleared his throat, his method of calling the meeting to order. Terrence, somewhat reluctantly, took his eyes off the new fast friends. The Tellarite leaned forward in his seat, as he regarded the meeting’s participants with his fierce gaze, his bushy eyebrows making his the orbs appear even more hooded. He was sizing up the crew, testing their mettle in his peculiar fashion. This wasn’t going to be good news, Glover knew.

“Starfleet Command informed me that the Tzenkethi have increased raids across our shared border as a possible prelude to invasion,” Gorik soberly intoned.

“The Tzenkethi are too busy fighting among themselves to ever threaten the Federation,” scoffed Lt. Commander Shikaar. The masked Zaranite female was Terrence’s immediate supervisor.

“So the reports say,” Bek’ele said with noticeable skepticism. “But I question the veracity of those accounts. There is much we don’t know about the Tzenkethi.” The rows Bek’ele and Shikaar sometimes engaged in during staff meetings were the stuff of legend on Kitty Hawk. Gorik, coming from a culture that revered argumentativeness often allowed them to cut loose. As he did for everyone at the few meetings Terrence had been allowed to attend in the past.

The captain wanted unvarnished opinions and ideas, but he also wanted officers strong enough to defend and back up those opinions and ideas. Honest, the blunter the better, was a desired commodity aboard Kitty Hawk. The lack of the need for human niceties or bullshit appealed to Terrence.

“We know they are distantly related to the Caitians,” Shikaar remarked, the breathing mask she wore unable to muffle her annoyance. The metallic mask covered her mouth and was attached to a visor hiding her eyes as well. The breathing apparatus was attached to an artfully hidden backpack under her uniform. The Zaranites did not breathe oxygen. The pack pumped fluorine gas.

The woman’s traditional bronze necklace glinted in the harsh overhead light. Fashioned from the horns of the Berbbotjahaa, a creature native to Shikaar’s homeworld, the elaborate piece of jewelry was composed of two parts, the top connoting her family and the bottom identifying her individually. “We know that they can be ferocious and cunning, from the several attacks on several Federation border worlds and outposts over the years.”

“Those random attacks don’t indicate that the Tzenkethi have the capability to mount a serious campaign against the Federation,” Bek’ele countered.

“It doesn’t indicate that they don’t,” Shikaar riposted.

“So, what does it ‘indicate’?” A bemused Dr. Alnus asked. The white-haired Boslic chief medic enjoyed the squabbles as much as the captain did.

“Not today people,” Lt. Commander Sehran threw up her hands. Out of the corner of his eye, Terrence caught Susan rushing to place a hand over her mouth to hide her chuckle. The Andorian senior operations officer could be as chilly as famous Northern Wastes of her home planet.

“I’m with Sehran on this one,” Chief Engineer Kessena co-signed; the elasticity of her Denobulan features producing an exaggerated frown, at least exaggerated by human standards. The reddish skinned woman added, “My team is in the middle of flushing the electro-plasma distribution network and I would like to be on hand to supervise them.”

“Don’t trust your new assistant chief engineer just yet?” Alnus ribbed her. Kessena’s reddish-tinged skin grew a shade more crimson, but she didn’t reply. “Mr. Rojas is tough to replacement.” Terrence couldn’t wait to drop that tidbit to Pedro the next time they talked.

“Attempting to stir the pot again doctor?” Sehran said with derision. The captain chuckled.

“Enough,” he finally said. “Our new assignment is to patrol the Federation-Tzenkethi border at the point of the most incursions into our space.”

“A show of force,” Commander Ferguson surmised.

“Yes,” the captain concurred. “A reminder to the Tzenkethi Coalition that Starfleet is committed to defending its sovereignty.”

“First the Cardassians, then the Talarians, and now the Tzenkethi,” Bek’ele shook his head with regret. “Will this strife ever end?”

“There was also the Tholian attack in 2353,” Terrence added, wanting to have something to say. The statement dropped like a stone. Glover quickly wished he hadn’t said anything.

“Well, with all these attacks, there definitely seems to be a pattern emerging,” Ferguson speculated.

“Yes,” Shikaar agreed. “They are testing us, each little insect taking a sting at us. Unless we make a good example of one, the stings will continue and multiply.”

“War is always the answer with you, isn’t it?” The Xyrillian charged.

“Yes,” the Zaranite countered. “War simplifies a lot of things.”

“Bak,” Kessena let slip a Denobulan curse. “What has this long conflict with the Cardassians solved?”

“It’s not a total war,” Shikaar shrugged. “If we committed sufficient force, we would plant our standard on Cardassia Prime within a week.”

“But then it would take us decades to secure the planet and the other Cardassian Union systems,” Bek’ele countered, “and such a use of force might turn the other galactic powers against us.”

“It might even bring the Romulans out of hiding,” Sehran said.

“So?” Shikaar said, “That would give our Klingon friends something to do, a clear enemy to growl at instead of the mercurial stance they currently have taken with us.”

“I think we are getting far ahead of ourselves here,” Ferguson pointed out. “The recent increase in hostilities could be the result of independent operators, pirates, or criminals. The Autarch might not even have knowledge of their actions.”

“Since we don’t have normalized relations with the Coalition, that too is just speculation,” Shikaar said. “The heightened tensions could be a commandment directly from Tzenketh.”

The commander nodded. “And it just as well couldn’t be.” The meeting settled into an uncomfortable silence at the stalemate.

“How long is this assignment?” Kessena finally asked, puncturing the hush.

“Six months,” Gorik answered.

“But captain that overshoots our scheduled overhaul,” the Denobulan pointed out. “The propulsion system is taxed enough as it is, and is in need of serious upgrading. A relatively placid survey assignment isn’t beyond the realm of possibility, but I caution against taking Kitty Hawk into a prolonged combat situation.”

“Command is well aware of this vessel’s capabilities,” Gorik grumbled. “This is our assignment and I intend for each of you to carry it out to the best of your abilities.” Kessena opened her mouth to respond, but closed it after a not so subtle head shake from Sehran.

“Helm, what is our ETA to the border?” The Tellarite turned his attention to the Capellan flight controller.

“At maximum warp, the Kitty Hawk will arrive in less than fourteen hours, twenty-three minutes,” she crisply replied.

“Actually,” Rossa made his move, interjecting smoothly, “I can shave off two hours with some minor course corrections.” Gorik nodded his approval.

“There it is,” the captain replied.

“Excuse me sir?” Commander Ferguson asked.

“The time all of you have to make certain this ship is ready to tackle whatever awaits us along that border,” Gorik said. “Mr. Ferguson, from this moment forward I want you to work with the department chiefs to institute a four shift duty rotation, with an accompanying extension of work hours.”

“Aye sir,” Ferguson said, unable to hide his glumness. Even Terrence had cheered when they had switched back to the standard three shifts after Kitty Hawk had been pulled from the front.

Guess I won’t be hitting the Rec anytime soon, Terrence surmised.
**************************************************************

 

[DarKush]

Author's commentary:

I had intended to include this story as a January challenge entry, alongside "For Good Men", but decided I didn't want to have too many entries. I didn't even know if there was a rule against that too. Plus the more I thought about this story the more I wanted to not have any word count limitations, though I roughly plan to keep it around 7000 words, give or take.

I haven't abandoned "Shadow Puppets", just put it on hold while I get his idea out of my head. As much as I love almost all my characters, I hadn't really written a Terrence-centric story in a while and I wanted to put this on paper before returning to "Puppets". Plus, I hadn't covered his Kitty Hawk years (roughly 2354-2360) in great detail and thought it would be fun to go there and show a younger, more untried Terrence. I hope you enjoy this and I hope it whets your appetite for the conclusion of "Shadow Puppets" (I'm finally about to turn that corner, for real this time), and more Dark Territory.

Other tidbits:

-Justine Haas, one of Terrence's Academy rivals, plays a prominent role in the story "False Colors" (2372), at the United Trek website. I thought it would be neat to establish the basis for their rivalry.

-Brendan Rossa was originally supposed to be a member of the Stiles clan. But I always liked the name Rossa so I went with that.

-The UT Tzenkethi are felinoid, not like the Trek Lit. take on them. They were first mentioned in Gibraltar's short The Last Man.

-The Kitty Hawk was first mentioned in my very first Glover story, "The Valley of Peace" (2376). He thought back to his time aboard the ship during a dream sequence.

-Banti Awokou, a mere mention in "Blooded", premiered in Gibraltar's "Embers of the Fire", and Gibraltar subsequently allowed me to carry on the man's story in "Under the Shadows of Swords". I've also fleshed out aspects of Awokou and Terrence's relationship in several stories.

 

[mirandafave]

Oh, I'm liking this window into Glover's past. Strangely, seeing his path to command is intriguing and it is interesting to see some of the influences of his later command style are not solely due to his personality traits. Gorik's style seems to have rubbed off a little on Glover.

I like too how Terrence's personality and even ego can cause issues with other crew members, though often they are internal to Terrence himself. The other character interactions are also very good and immediately settles the reader into these new characters and crew. Now we want to see more of them and get to know a little more too. Atop of seeing whatever they are getting into.

But I'm really liking the unfolding situation we have going on here. The shift away from the Cardassian-Federation skirmishes to the possible outbreak of hostilities with the Tzenkethi. And I prefer the felinoid versions of the UT universe. And given how animalistic and savage you've portrayed the Ashlain I wonder if we will see your take on the Tzenkethi.

 

[DarKush]

Thanks for reading Mirandafave and commenting.

I didn't think much about Gorik's influence on Glover's style but that is something for me to ponder. I hope I can do justice to the Tzenkethi, at least live up to your expectations. I'm still fleshing out what's to come so we'll see.

I thought the Cardassian war was an interesting backdrop but I didn't want to focus too much on the Cardassians this go round. I've written several stories featuring them and I have at least one major Cardassian-centric story arc in the future to wrap up so I didn't want to do retreads.

The Tzenkethi are fresh ground, though the challenge is to make them different from the Alshain. Of course, I'm not sure how much the Tzenkethi will even factor into this story just yet, so we shall see what becomes of them.

***************************************************************

USS Kitty Hawk
Private Quarters

Terrence’s door chimed as soon as his head hit the pillow. “Who is it?” He mumbled. The door chimed again. “Hold on,” he said more loudly, sitting up in bed. His muscles creaked as he got out of from under the sheets he had been longing to wrap around him. Once in his living room, he informed the computer, “Open.”

Lt. Bano, still in her duty jumpsuit, stood in the threshold. “Permission to enter?” She asked, half-jokingly.

“Yeah, sure,” Glover replied, plopping down on his couch. “Computer, low illumination.” Despite the command, the room was still sufficiently cloaked in darkness not to irritate his aching eyes.

“You okay Terrence?” She asked, taking up a position beside him.

“Tired is all, aren’t you?”

“A little,” the half-Bolian revealed, “but I charge that to my human side.”

“I know, I know,” Glover rolled his eyes, “about the durability of the Bolian frame.”

“I’m not so sure,” Susan smiled lustily. “Perhaps you need to be reminded.” She leaned in close to him, but Terrence turned away.

She pulled back, confusion in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I meant it, I’m tired,” he said.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you certain?”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time?”

“Terrence, I didn’t come here to start an argument.”

“What did you come here for?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sorry I can’t be the funnyman, the life of the party.”

“Funnyman? Life of the party? Where is this coming from Terrence?”

“Go ask Lt. Rossa. He seems to have all the answers.” The confusion lifted like a veil from her countenance. Her smile was incredulous.

“Terrence, you can’t be serious?”

“Do I look I’m laughing?”

“Are you actually…you know, jealous?”

“No.”

“Yes, yes you are,” Bano chuckled.

“I don’t think I made a joke here.”

“Come on Terrence, we shared a joke. Brendan’s not a bad guy, if you give him a chance.”

“So now it’s Brendan? You guys on a first name basis?”

“This is cute Terrence, really it is.”

“I want to be alone now,” Terrence turned away from her, his face toward the nearest port window. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“There’s no need to be a baby about this Terrence.”

“Later Susan,” he nearly snapped.

“Fine,” she huffed. He could hear the hurt in her voice. It almost motivated him to turn around, to reach out to her, and pull her close. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Terrence remained on the couch, staring out the window until it was time for his next shift.

***************************************************************
USS Kitty Hawk
Turbolift

“Geez sir you look like that you just came from off an Argelian all nighter,” Junior Lt. Rossa said cheerily. Of course he would be on the lift that Glover chose, and of course he would be looking chipper, well groomed, hale and hearty in a fresh pressed maroon and black jumpsuit.

Terrence felt seedy, granules still in his eyes from lack of sleep. Even though he was in a fresh uniform, it felt ill fitting. He chalked it up to his imagination, to him being out of sorts. He glared at the younger, blond man. “Is that anyway to address a superior officer Mr. Rossa?” He put a special emphasis on the word ‘superior’.

Rossa snapped to attention immediately, his jaw jutting forward. “No sir,” he said crisply.

“That’s correct,” Glover replied, taking up position beside him. “Lift, continue to the bridge.” Rossa had been assigned the same duty hours as Terrence so he knew the man’s destination.

“Umm…permission to speak freely sir?”

After a beat, Glover sighed, “Yes.” He had wanted to say no.

“What do you think about this business with the Tzenkethi?”

“I don’t know lieutenant, what am I supposed to think?” Rossa crinkled his eyebrows, perplexed by Terrence’s response.

“Well sir, I…”

“Oh, at ease,” Glover said, and the man relaxed his rigid stance. “I don’t have any thoughts one way or the other,” he replied. “If the Tzenkethi are spoiling for a fight, they’ll get one. This ship might not be as big as the Tecumseh, but she can pack one hell of a punch.”

Rossa grinned, “I know that sir.”

“Once any Tzenkethi raiders see us coming, they’ll think twice about violating our space,” Terrence said.

“I hope so,” Rossa agreed, but Glover could tell the younger man didn’t mean it.

********************************************************************

 

[Gibraltar]

Terrific stuff, DarKush!

I’m an unapologetic fan of Terrence Glover, and I very much enjoy getting this glimpse at a younger, more mercurial version of the conflicted captain that people either love or hate (or love to hate).

It’s ironic that Glover feels such a sense of competitiveness with another ‘legacy’ officer like Rossa. One would think that if anyone could successfully empathize with Glover’s predicament, it would be Rossa.

And it’s clear that Terrence’s romantic relationships have always been complicated, burdened as they are by his pride and sense of entitlement. Oh, and the Kitty Hawk’s XO reminds me of someone… another amiable officer Glover will come to hold in particular contempt.

Eagerly awaiting the next installment…

 

[DarKush]

Gibraltar,

I always enjoy your reading your comments and insight. To be honest I didn't think about the parallels between Ferguson and Sandhurst. Similar to Mirandafave's observation about Gorik rubbing off on Terrence, you've now too given me something to think about.

Regarding Rossa, I see your point on the legacy angle, but at the moment, the nascent rivalry between the two young ambitious officers is clouding their commonalities.

I do enjoy exploring Terrence's romantic relationships. He's had a bevy of women over the years and its always cool to see that side of him. So far there's been Tryla Scott (Parasite Eve), Krastil (The Heart of the Matter), Lian'ne (The Crucible), Nya Chace (The Crucible), Meera Prabhakar (Pride Goeth), Nyota Dryer (The Crucible/The Needs of the One), Jasmine Mendes (The Needs of the One/False Colors/The Valley of Peace), and Rieta Cole (Corruption of Blood). There was a near miss with Sarhana (Parasite Eve), an awkward encounter with Jadzia Dax mentioned in "Under the Shadows of Swords"; etc.

One thing I've liked to look at play with too is his tangled feelings for Pell Ojana and his flirty relationship with Elizabeth Shelby. Now, I've got to throw in his flirting with Amaya Donners.

I've been playing with the idea of Susan Bano as a companion for a while, but was just looking for the right opportunity to insert her into Glover's life. I'm not sure what role she will play in his development/growth just yet though.

******************************************************************
Smigh Colony
Federation-Tzenkethi Border
Three Days Later…

Terrence Glover reached down and scooped warm water in his hands. He threw it behind him. “Hey,” Susan remarked in surprise. “This is one hell of a way to apologize.” Glover laughed, peering back over his shoulder. “First one to that beacon wins,” he said, pointing out at the rusted buoy bobbing in the ocean’s gentle waves.

“You’re…” was all the half-Bolian got out before Terrence had jumped into the water. He sliced the waves, stroking furiously. He heard a terrible racket behind, and then rough hands were on him, moving down his body, tearing at his shorts.

“Hey,” he gasped, hearing the rip of fabric even through the tumult. Susan raced on, reaching the buoy and threw one arm around it for support. With her other arm, she raised her tattered flag of victory, which looked non-surprisingly like Glover’s shredded swim black trunks.

“I win,” she crowed.

“Screw it,” he grinned, pulling off his green tank top, and doing his best to wrap it around his private parts. “I know when to concede,” he acknowledged before making his way back to the beach.
***************************************************************

While Terrence tried to figure out the best way to situate his makeshift loin cloth, Susan unfurled two thick royal blue beach towels for them. Then she flipped open the lid of the picnic basket and pulled out a shaking container. She reached inside it and grabbed a writhing serpent worm, careful to avoid its tentacles. She bit off the head before gobbling the rest.

Like many Bolians, Susan had a penchant for carrion, which was something Terrence would never get used to. There weren’t many human foods that packed the flavor that she liked, nor the odors that appealed to her. With Klingon cuisine they found a decent compromise. What it lacked in decomposition, it made up for in pungency. She placed the container of gagh on the violent sand between them before pulling out a bottle of bahgol. Unlike many, Bano preferred her Klingon tea chilled. She took a swig before laid back on the towel.

She sighed loudly, “I needed this.”

Propping himself up on one shoulder, Terrence pulled back the container lid and dug his fingers into the gagh, not caring if he got pinched. He leaned his head back and shoved the wiggling mass into his mouth, the crunch satisfying. Juice ran from the corners of his mouth as he chewed. Taking a big swallow, he belched, prompting Susan to look at him askance.

“Excuse me,” he shrugged with a grin. “And yes, I am sorry.”

“About the belch?”

“Among other things,” he replied before he also pulled out a bottle of bahgol. He liked his warm, but it was a compromise he was willing to make. It had taken him several entreaties to get Susan to take this sabbatical with him, and he wasn’t going to ruin it by being petty, no more than usual, he couldn’t help but think, with a wry smile.

“Why are you smiling?”

“What’s not to smile about?” He countered, leaning down to rub his finger along the ridge bifurcating her face. She wiggled and purred in response. “I’m having a romantic lunch with the most beautiful girl in the galaxy.” He admired the curves of her petite frame, decked in a yellow two-piece bikini.

“You know Terrence you can really be so full of bak sometimes,” Susan said, her smile belying her words.

“I know,” he nodded, agreeing with her. “It’s just…” his good nature dimmed. He looked away, across the sea.

“What is it?” Susan propped herself up on her elbows.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, trying to figure out how to verbalize what he was feeling.

“It’s okay Terrence, take your time, the gagh isn’t going anywhere…as long as we keep an eye on it.”

He chuckled. “Thank you Sue.”

“For what?”

“For just being, well you know, you.”

“I don’t know any other way to be.”

“And I’m glad for that.” Glover laid down and Susan followed suit. He reached across and wrapped his hand around hers. They settled into a comfortable silence, gazing up at the cloud-filled sky. The gray sky was the only thing marring their outing.

“So, do you believe that High Commissioner?” Bano finally broke the silence.

“Bistam?” Terrence asked, thinking about the lanky saurian Kasheeta. “Yeah, you don’t?”

“I mean, it seems like overkill to reassign us here if these raids are simple piracy,” Susan surmised. “That’s a job best suited for the Border Service.” Kitty Hawk had met with Federation High Commissioner Bistam at Bonga Outpost, one of two Starfleet facilities along the border. Bistam’s asserted that the raids were orchestrated by a Tzenkethi pirate known as Redpaw and was a not sign that the Coalition was preparing for war.

“If it isn’t a simple pirate, the Border Service might be outmatched. Our armaments probably outclass anything the Tzenkethi can throw at us; the Border Dogs, not so much.”

Starfleet Command had been skeptical and so had Terrence. So far, the several colonies they had visited since leaving Bonga backed up Bistam’s claim. Glover still wasn’t convinced that this Redpaw character wasn’t working on behalf of the Tzenkethi’s autarch and he was looking very forward to catching him to find out.

“I think you’re selling the “dogs” short,” Susan nodded with disapproval. “My sister serves in the Border Fleet.”

“Bully for her then,” the comment slipped out. “Oww,” he pulled his hand back after Susan pinched him.

“That’s for being a smart ass.”

“Well, Command is dispatching a Border cutter to assist us, but I think we have more than enough experience to handle this,” Terrence concluded.

“I hope so,” Bano said, nervously biting her bottom lip. “I never realized how long the border was with the Tzenkethi.”

“Yeah,” Terrence agreed. “It’s a lot of territory to cover, more than one ship, even ours can protect. I can see now how the marauders can raid various planets and get away nearly unscathed.”

“We could use all the help we can get,” Susan added. “It’s going to be a long assignment.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Glover said, taking a chance to reach out to her again. She took his hand and he tugged at her.

“What?” She coyly asked, batting her eyes. “What do you want?”

“Do I need to spell it out?” He asked, rolling over to climb atop her. “Granted, I am an excellent speller, I would rather show than tell.”
*******************************************************************

 

[CeJay]

Yeah, I'll admit it, I missed Terrence. It's been awhile since he got to be in the spotlight. And I too enjoy this look at a slightly younger, less experienced and perhaps even somewhat less self-assured officer.

The era you've chosen is one we don't get to see very often and the Tzenkethi have been a bit of a neglected species. All good reasons to make this a very exciting outing. It also helps that you always do such a great job at creating memorable crews and characters.

Really enjoying this so far.

 

[mirandafave]

Ouch. Terrence for all of his conquests and romantic entanglements over the years never seems to learn how to handle things more ... delicately. As for Rossa, the parallels between the two men are there but it was not hard to see that Terrence was going to be rubbed up the wrong way by him. I doubt he would ever empathise with anyone - even a legacy! But it is interesting that Terrence meets so many of these different figures and I always feel, whether he gets on with them or runs into difficulties with them, that he takes lessons from the experiences and is formed by them somewhat. I like too that you take time out of the story to explore his various entanglements be they romantic or of the running into other officer's. I like too the talk about the border and the border dogs. I do think he is underselling them but I'd be biased! Hee, hee. So the Redpaw is their quarry. I wonder how things are going to do down when they run into them.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

I like this glimpse into Terrence's past. The Tzenkethi angle is equally interesting - as others have said, they are a race which have not been developed with much depth. Looks like storm clouds on the horizon, though, and if the cats launch a full out attack, a few Border Service cutters won't last long.

 

[DarKush]

Thanks for the comments everyone. They are much appreciated.

******************************************************************

Bonga Outpost
Two Weeks Later…

“Welcome, welcome,” High Commissioner Bistam said, opening his arms wide after the six light columns resolved into the crew from the Border service crew from the USS Bison. The large sleeves of his dark robe hung down from his arms like wings.

“They got a better welcome than we did,” Terrence overheard the Bek’ele mutter to Kessena. The Kitty Hawk contingent was off to the side, near a spread of foodstuffs that the commissioner’s staff had laid out for both crews.

“Maybe that’s because these folks see the Border Service a lot more than they ever see us,” Ferguson offered. Gorik growled low in his throat, the gesture bringing the side conversations to an end. Terrence shifted his eyes forward, back to the commissioner. The tall, orange-brown reptilian bent over to grasp the hand of the smaller, human female with captain’s pips.

The Bison cohort was dressed in the old style uniforms, with red, crewneck collared tunics and black trousers. For the standard Fleet, that design had been discontinued before Terrence’s graduation. He actually preferred their dated elegance over the form fitting jumpsuits. They looked a lot more comfortable, and a lot more dashing. “Captain Gorik,” Bistam turned back to Glover’s group. “May I present Captain Leslie Oh of the Starship Bison.”

The woman stepped over to him, extending a hand.
Gorik met her half way and wrapped her hand in his cloven one. They both gave two short pumps. “Nice to meet you sir,” Oh replied. Her almond eyes crinkled as she smiled.
The sprightly woman looked a little young to be a captain, in Terrence’s estimation. It made him wonder if the Border Service rewarded talent more than the standard Fleet, or maybe because of the dearth of talent, it allowed the best officers to rise quickly.

Standing there, reviewing the relatively young corps of officers among the Bison crew, Glover almost wondered if he had made a wrong career choice, that perhaps he should’ve gone where his talents were more appreciated. Even before Pedro had left Kitty Hawk, Terrence had been feeling that he was spinning his wheels, and that his career had stalled.

And those feelings of stagnation had only intensified after Pedro’s shot at the big time. Glover had sought out advice from his mother and father, both high ranking Starfleet officers, but he had been remiss to ask them to use their connections to get him a more prominent assignment.

Ever since the Academy he had striven hard to prove to everyone that he could accomplish things without relying on being the son of Samson Glover. The whispers seemed only to grow louder when his father had become an admiral. It made Terrence feel he had even more to prove.

As grim as it was, he thought that the war would open up the officers’ corps, and he could move up. But his career had stalled. And now younger wolves like Brendan Rossa were nipping at his heels. It was a real possibility that Rossa might even leap frog Terrence.

He jumped slightly as a shadow fell over him. A translucent hand shot up, the musculature and veins underneath the see-through skin throbbed with life. “Lieutenant,” the man standing in front of him said in greeting. Glover did his best to hide his reaction as he made eye contact. He was already embarrassed at being so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had been caught off guard. He didn’t want to add squeamishness to the list at the sight of the man’s transparent skull, and the large brain working within.

This was the first Gallamite Terrence had ever met, but he had heard about them. “Lieutenant Commander,” he was finally able to squeak out. “A pleasure.” The senior officer’s already significant smile widened further.

“If you could see the look on your face,” the man said.

“I’m glad I can’t,” Terrence admitted before he had a chance to think about it. “Sorry,” he added quickly.

“No need,” the man clapped him on the shoulder. “I get it all the time.”

“Lt. Terrence Glover,” he offered. “Tactical Officer, Kitty Hawk.”

“Lt. Commander Imric,” the other man replied. “Nice to meet you.” Terrence nodded and the tall Gallamite moved on down the line.

“You have to forgive our chief engineer, he loves rattling the non-initiated,” the last Bison officer in the line told him. She was a freckled-face red head, with a ready smile and a devilish gleam in her eye. Glover liked her immediately. “Lt. Mirna Kelly.” Terrence introduced himself. “So, you’re a Tac guy, well I’m a Tac gal,” she remarked. “Looking forward to getting a look under your hood.”

“Excuse me?” He asked.

“Your weapons array,” she clarified. “I would love to see an advanced system.”

“Advanced?” Glover scoffed. “You must be joking.”

“Not this time,” Kelly shook her head. He leaned close to her ear.

“Kitty Hawk’s a Constellation,” he remarked. Maybe they had come in on the other side of the outpost and hadn’t seen his vessel in orbit.

“That’s a whole lot more advanced than what we have on Bison. We’re a Soyuz.”

Terrence whistled, “I thought those things were decommissioned in the 2280s?”

“They were, for the standard Fleet; but many were just refit and added to the Border Fleet.”

“Please tell me you can go beyond warp six,” Glover stated. Kelly rolled her eyes.

“Good one,” she remarked. “Bison might be old, but she can run rings around your squat little ship.”

“Oh yeah?” Terrence asked, warming to the idea of a challenge.

“Any day of the week,” Kelly declared.

“We’ll just have to see about that,” Glover said.

“Yeah, we will,” his counterpart replied, winking at him before she moved to the next Kitty Hawk officer, Susan. Lt. Bano was noticeably curt.

Before leaving the Bolian, Kelly caught Terrence’s eye and made a face. He chuckled, prompting a quick elbow to his ribs. “What was that about?” Susan asked him.

“Oh nothing,” Glover said, clutching his side. “I was just saying hello.”

“For five minutes?” Bano asked, now turning to him. After the greetings had been made, the rest of the two crews had spread out and began to mingle.

“Yeah,” Terrence said, feeling defensive. “We were sharing a laugh. Just like you and Rossa.”

“Are we back to that? Seriously?”

“Hey, you’re the one accusing people,” he shot back.

“I-I didn’t accuse you of anything,” Bano retorted. “Maybe that’s just your guilty conscience talking.”

“Maybe it is,” he said, regretting the cutting words immediately.

“What are you saying?” Susan took a step back, stricken.

“Listen,” Terrence began, but the woman turned away from him. She put up a hand to stop him from speaking further.

“I need some air,” she said before departing the room. Glover debated going after her. He didn’t want to make more of a scene than they already had. So far the rest of the assemblage was pretending they hadn’t heard the argument. Except for Rossa who quickly found the ice sculpture on the table interesting when Terrence’s eyes met his.

After a few moments of indecision, Terrence set out for the door. A hand latched onto his bicep. “Hey, where are you going?” It was Lt. Kelly.

“Sorry,” Glover said, trying to pull away, but the woman’s hold on him was tight. She sidled up to him.

“I know you’re not leaving when the party’s just getting interesting.” Kelly said, with a lopsided grin.

“Excuse me,” Terrence bit back his impatience. “But I got to go.” He carefully removed her hand from his arm.

“Okay,” She shrugged and then sighed. “Your loss.” Terrence turned away from her and headed to the door. His heart froze when he saw that someone had beaten him to the punch. Rossa’s arm was around Susan’s shoulder and she had pulled tight to him.

Terrence’s shock was quickly drenched in anger. A crimson veil covered his eyes and everything else fell away. His galaxy had just been reduced to his girl and the man trying to steal her. Seeing red, Glover stomped toward them.
*************************************************************

 

[Gibraltar]

Oh, no good can come from this. I hope Rossa knows how to duck a punch, or at the very least, roll with one!

 

[mirandafave]

Oh dear. One wonders if Glover would have a much simpler life he had a simpler love life. But he tends to find his romantic entanglements getting very entangled, with either him flirting with someone else or someone else flirting with him. Dear oh dear, and it seems it is heading him into trouble here.

Terrence Glover in the Border Patrol Service? Nah. They have very high standards in it. Hee, hee. Nice moment of introspection from Glover on the Border Dogs, with the line, "It made him wonder if the Border Service rewarded talent more than the standard Fleet, or maybe because of the dearth of talent, it allowed the best officers to rise quickly," quite telling about the opinion of the Fleet proper to the Border Service. But the thought process clearly demonstrates Terrence's ambition and thirst for command.

 

[DarKush]

*************************************************************
Bonga Outpost

Hearing his footfalls, Susan glanced up, realization quickly dawning in her eyes. She gently eased away from Rossa. “Hey, what’s wrong?” The oblivious young man asked, reaching out to her.

“What the hell is going on here?” Terrence snapped, his heart hammering in his chest, his blood racing like lava through his veins. His hands were involuntarily clenching and unclenching. He was ready to pummel the interloper if he made the wrong move. Rossa slowly took his measure and seemed unperturbed, and slightly disappointed, which pissed off Glover even more.

“Terrence, this isn’t what it looks like,” Susan pleaded.

“What does it look like?” Both men asked, nearly at the same time, though Rossa’s voice was filled with confusion and Terrence’s laden with accusation.

“I know how your imagination is, especially when you’re feeling guilty,” the half-Bolian replied. Before Terrence could snap off a retort, Susan added, “Don’t think I didn’t see you flirting with that girl from the Bison.”

“I told you that wasn’t the case,” Glover said. “So what is this, payback?” He gestured dismissively at Rossa. “This just a little pawn in your game?”

“Now just hold on a minute…sir,” Rossa huffed, crimson spots forming on his cheeks. “I came out here to check on Susan…Lt. Bano, and that’s all. I have no desire to get involved in a lover’s spat,” he paused, shifting his attention to Susan, “Or to be used as a game piece.”

“Oh no,” Bano shook her head madly, “That’s not true Brendan.”

“I’m going back inside,” he declared, stepping around Glover. Terrence didn’t attempt to stop him.

“Wait,” Susan said, “You’re not going to just take his word for it, are you?”

“Let him go,” Terrence remarked. “We have a lot to talk about.” Susan rounded on him, her face a deeper shade of blue.

“We have nothing to discuss,” she hissed, before she tapped her combadge. “One to beam up.” Before the transporter took her, she warned. “Do not follow me.”

Terrence watched her dissolve into a shower of sparkles. He scratched his head as his anger ebbed. “What just happened?”
************************************************************
USS Kitty Hawk
Private Quarters

When he heard the door chime, Glover smiled. “Now she’s coming to her senses,” he muttered. He had just polished off another glass of Arcturan Fizz, mulling the night’s disaster. He was trying to make it work with Susan, but things were becoming more complicated, and less interesting. Terrence couldn’t help but feel sometimes that she was becoming another link in the chain keeping him from the bright future awaiting him elsewhere.

But those feelings receded when he heard the trilling. Perhaps their paths were starting to diverge, but Susan cared for him, and he cared for her. He wanted to make things work, he guessed.

The door buzzed again. “Keep your pants on,” Glover remarked. Or don’t, the thought, his smile turning lascivious. He approached the door, “Open.” His mouth gaped open.

“I hope that’s a smile,” Mirna Kelly said. The woman had dispatched with her duty uniform and was now wearing a slinky, strapless metallic dress. He could see freckles dappling her shoulders. She held a green bottle in one hand. Her eyes followed his to the bottle. She held it up. “Saurian brandy.”

“Uh, excuse me Lieutenant,” Glover began.

“Mirna,” she corrected him. “Call me Mirna.”

“Okay,” Terrence paused, “Mirna. What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” she said, “I need a drinking buddy. You game?”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he replied.

“Let’s see if I can’t change your mind,” she replied, sauntering past him. “Where is your replicator? Though I don’t mind drinking straight from the bottle, you seem a tad more civilized.”

Still standing in the same spot, Terrence struggled to get his bearings back. Despite himself, Mirna was a welcome presence. He liked her forthrightness. She was a girl that liked having a good time, that knew what she wanted, and wisely chose him.

“This really isn’t a good idea,” Glover said to her, as he turned away from the opening. He caught Mirna just as she was bending over his coffee table, pouring the green alcohol into two wine glasses. The light danced across her tight, glittery backside. Her duty uniform had definitely cloaked her curves. Terrence was so taken that he didn’t notice as the door eased shut behind him. It didn’t open until morning.
*************************************************************

Thanks for reading and commenting. I didn't want to get into fisticuffs because it didn't feel natural. I could see Terrence wanting to punch Brendan, but holding back. He is a professional and a superior officer. He has a pretty decent grasp on his emotions, especially when it comes to not going to the extreme. His career is the most important thing and he's not going to threaten that unless he has a very good reason to do so. At this point, he merely has some suspicions about Brendan and Susan, but no confirmation that might compel him to fight the guy. I am glad that this look into younger Glover is intriguing a lot of folks.

I want to thank TLR for allowing me to add another Border Service ship to the list. I also hope he doesn't mind about using the old Yesterday Enterprise-style uniforms. I always liked those and have wanted to put them into one of my stories. I thought it might make sense that the Border Dogs are a little 'behind' in the uniform changeover than the standard Fleet.

 

[CeJay]

Good thing that Terrence has the wherewithal to keep his emotions in check, if only barely. Striking a fellow officer would have been a sure fire way to torpedo his career before it ever got started.

I liked him with Susan but they are clearly not meant to be. Terrence is doing whatever he can to make sure of that.

 

[mirandafave]

Well given Glover's ambitions he cannot allow his passions to rule him to the degree that he would descend into fisticuffs. But I guess with Glover you can never be sure. As we see at the end, he is often his own worst enemy and finds it hard to resist his compulsions.

As for the Border Service wearing older style uniforms - I can dig that. Poor them, they always get the worst end of the deal.

 

[DarKush]

*************************************************************
USS Kitty Hawk
Private Quarters

Mirna was gone when Terrence woke up. There was no sign of her at all. It was almost as if last night had never happened. If not for the slight ringing in his head, Terrence could’ve chalked it up to a kinky dream. But then the memory flashes came to him, of pliant alabaster skin, of soft moans, and shared pleasures.

The memories briefly held them in his thrall, until he shook them away. “My God,” he muttered, grabbing his head. “What did I do?”

He wanted to lie down and call in sick. He wanted to hide away from what he had done. He didn’t want to face Susan. He was afraid of what would happen when she saw him. Terrence just knew that she would know.

But he couldn’t do that. He had to face up to his responsibilities, “But…not immediately,” he resolved. Terrence checked his chronometer, and jumped up. “Damn, twenty minutes before my shift begins.” He rushed to the sonic shower, dipping in and out. Slipping into his uniform, he bypassed breakfast, and headed out the door.

Halfway up to the bridge, he sighed. “Pause,” he ordered the lift. Stepping out, Glover muttered again, “At least I can make one thing right.” Even though he wasn’t ready to face Susan yet, to tell her about Mirna, he could at least try to mend fences with Lt. Rossa.

After he had calmed down, Terrence realized that the young man was just trying to be helpful, annoying perhaps, but helpful where Susan was concerned. He was a better friend to her than Terrence was last night.

He straightened his shoulders and smoothed the front of his uniform. Terrence rang the young man’s signal chime. The door slid open a second later. The smile that Glover had forced onto his face vanished. Susan Bano, standing in the doorframe, jumped with a start. “Terrence,” she gasped. “I can explain.”

Without saying a word, Glover turned from the door and walked away.
*****************************************************************

Shuttlecraft Voshev
Federation-Tzenkethi Border
One Month Later…

“That’s it sir,” Crewman Medina replied. “The automated signal is emitting.” Terrence nodded with satisfaction.

“Thanks Dolores,” Terrence said to the engineer. “I’ll inform Kitty Hawk.” Glover had been charged with installing a network automated subspace listening posts along this particular stretch of the border, part of “The Fence”, as Commander Ferguson colloquially, referred to the plan to detect any vessels crossing the border.

His superiors thought that the action might deter the pirates, but Terrence doubted it. To some extent, he wanted to test himself against the Tzenkethi. He had heard stories of how fearsome they were and he wanted to see how true that was.

“Shuttle Voshev, this is Marshall, checking in.” It was Lt. Diggs, the Bison’s Security Chief. The Marshall was accompanying them, watching their back as much as anything.

“We are wrapping up here sir,” Glover remarked.

“Sounds good,” Diggs replied. “We’ll follow you back in to the outpost.”

“Acknowledged, Glover out.” As he was laying in the course to return to Bonga Outpost, the speakers in the bulkhead screeched.

“This is Lt. Kelly, repeat, Lt. Kelly! We are being attacked by an unidentified vessel…sending coordinates now…need help.”

“You got that Lt. Diggs?” Glover asked, reprogramming his vessel to Mirna’s location. He warped away before the other man responded.
**************************************************************

 

[Dnoth]

Sounds like Glover should be careful what he wishes for.

 

[CeJay]

Nobody ever waits and listens past the ... "I can explain" part. In this case of course her explanation would probably have required her admitting to being a shapeshifter. Not that Terrence didn't deserve this ...

Looks like he's getting a chance to vent some of his frustration very soon.