Dark Territory: Fall Out
- Thread starter DarKush
- Start date
Re: Part Four: Day of Reckoning
A desperately creative escape from the Klingons, but not without a price. I guess Sandhurst really is trying to keep up with Terrence Glover.
A nice group effort to get the engines back online in time to escape.
Lar’ragos, as usual, is fiendishly ingenious and the crew benefits from his hard heart and iron hands.
A desperately creative escape from the Klingons, but not without a price. I guess Sandhurst really is trying to keep up with Terrence Glover.
A nice group effort to get the engines back online in time to escape.Lar’ragos, as usual, is fiendishly ingenious and the crew benefits from his hard heart and iron hands.
Part Five: In Interesting Times
*****
Part Five: In Interesting Times
USS Enterprise-E
(Observation Lounge)
En Route to Starbase 116….
After Admiral Covey had brought the debriefing to a close and returned to her ship, Picard had excused the rest of the assembled officers, save Commander Riker and Captain Aurelia.
Jean-Luc took a sip from his cup of steaming Earl Grey as he sought to order his thoughts. Picard had postponed his meeting with Captain Aurelia until after the two ships rendezvoused with the Defiant. The stretch of time gave him time to reign in his temper and he hoped it did the same for his counterpart. The lull also provided Picard time to scour over the woman’s record.
Despite a fairly impressive service jacket, he was surprised that the woman had been given such a prized command so soon. From her heated rhetoric and impatient demeanor, she didn’t seem to possess the temperament to be a captain. Though Will thought otherwise.
It was for that reason that Picard wanted his Number One to sit in on the meeting. He needed another perspective. And since Riker had served with the woman personally, he provided a very valuable insight.
“Captain Aurelia,” Picard started slowly, “I wanted to discuss our recent engagement with the Alshain Origin Fleet.” She nodded, looking at him expectantly. The woman wasn’t going to make this easy, Picard realized. “I…wish to discuss how you conducted yourself.”
“Hold on,” Aurelia cut in. Picard glanced at Riker. The larger, bearded man winced. The Enterprise captain knew he had taken the wrong tact instantly. “I got my ship through a fleet of Alshain in one piece, with minimum casualties or damage. I would say that I conducted myself pretty damn well.”
“There’s a certain decorum that one must…” Jean-Luc tried again, but Aurelia cut him off again.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she said, her voice rising. “I’m sure you mean well, but I already have a father. You and I are equals, and I don’t appreciate your paternalistic tone.”
“All right Sintina,” Riker began.
“That’s Captain Aurelia,” she snapped, adding “Commander Riker” as if it were a slur. The young woman then stood up. “I can’t believe how ungrateful and arrogant you people are! Without us, those Alshain would probably be roasting you over a spit by now and this is the thanks we get.”
Picard forced his tone to remain diplomatic. “We do appreciate your assistance.”
“It doesn’t sound like it,” Aurelia replied. Her gaze turned to Riker. “And you Commander Riker, Will, I don’t know what happened to you. The old Will Riker wouldn’t have needed me to ‘explain’ my actions, he would’ve understood them.”
Riker’s face reddened, but the man said, “Things change Sintina-Captain Aurelia. We all have to grow up sometimes.”
“Well it doesn’t mean you have to grow old,” she shot back. “Captain Picard, I know you’re a legend, an icon. Hell, I read about your exploits before, during, and after my Academy days. But the Dominion gutted the officer’s corps, and there’s a whole new breed of captains these days. We were weaned on war, and we’re more willing to insure that future generations don’t get the baptism of fire that we did. If that makes us a little gruff, or the rules a little bit more flexible, so be it.” She paused to pat Riker’s shoulder. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got business to attend to on Independence.”
Picard let the tempestuous woman go. After she left, Riker turned to him. “Captain, I told you that Sintina’s a pistol.”
“More like a fully charged phaser cannon,” Picard joked, before his expression turned serious. “Will, I know that Aurelia is your friend.”
“Probably not after today,” Riker replied, only half-jokingly.
“But I have my concerns about her, and to be honest the whole crop of new captains springing up in the wake of the war,” Picard said. “We need good, reliable people out there Will.”
“I know where this is going,” Riker frowned slightly. “I like where I am Captain.”
Picard half-smiled, “and I couldn’t ask for a better Executive Officer. But what I am asking you is to think about it again. The Federation seems to be deteriorating, and all we need is for one of the new hotshot captains, like your friend, to embroil us in another conflict.”
Riker smiled. “Actually sir, that’s what some of the graybeards in the Fleet were saying about you and our Briar Patch mission.” Picard chuckled in response.
“I haven’t been called anything remotely close to ‘young’ or ‘hotshot’ in a long time,” the Enterprise captain reflected. “Now that you’ve put it that way, perhaps I’ve been too hard on Captain Aurelia.”
Riker shook his head, laughing softly. “No, you weren’t. In fact you probably should’ve really come down on her. Captain DeSoto had to read her the riot act more than once. So did I,” he recalled, a fond gleam in his blue eyes.
“If you go after that fourth and then fifth pip, you’ll get to do so again,” Picard promised. “I think she still needs your mentoring.”
“That does sound tempting,” Riker admitted. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
*****
USS Meharry
(Guest Quarters)
Captain Nandali Kojo smiled wickedly, “You’re not afraid, are you?”
“No,” Ensign Phil Westin replied a little too quickly, cinching the robe’s belt. “It’s just a little awkward that’s all…I mean your son is older than me.”
“So are my several of my grandchildren,” the Kriosian added. Westin’s face turned scarlet, drawing more laughter out of her. “That was a joke Mr. Westin. You don’t think I look like a grandmother do you?”
He nodded. “No way.” She chuckled again before turning away from him. She finished submitting the activation code. Minutes later her son Kavel appeared. He scowled at her.
“What do you want?” He asked the customary Klingon greeting. Kojo kept her joy at seeing her son behind a steely demeanor.
“I need information,” she said. “I’m sure you are aware of the recent confrontation involving two Starfleet vessels and an unidentified Defense Force ship-Vor’cha-class at Yashk’lin IV?”
He pursed his lips, considering the questioner more than the question. Kavel hadn’t even reached the Age of Ascension before his father died. Before Kojo’s demise his family had disowned him for marrying Nandali. But with Kojo being the last male heir of the House, the family laid claim to her children. In the most shameful act of weakness Nandali had ever displayed, she had allowed them to be taken, rationalizing that they would find more acceptance and have more opportunities as scions of a great Klingon House.
Nandali would never forget the frightened look on Kavel’s face, or his cries as Kojo’s stern mother Azerot dragged him away. From the cold look in his eyes for a mother he hadn’t seen since the beginning of the Dominion War, Kavel had never forgotten it either. It also didn’t help matters that Kojo had fought against the Empire during the brief Klingon-Federation war, a conflict that had cost the life of Dorei, his mate.
“What does this have to do with you?” Kavel asked. Kojo hoped, or imagined that she heard a fleck of concern somewhere in the gruff question.
“My ship was destroyed by Alshain marauders in Sector 443,” the captain answered. “A Klingon ship later appeared at Yashk’lin IV, and it was somehow connected with the Alshain.”
“Is this line secure?” Kavel squinted hard, as if he could detect deceit from across space like a Betazoid.
“Yes,” Kojo nodded. Her son glanced past her, a look of pure disgust on his face.
“Who is that?” He bellowed. Westin gulped, but stood his ground.
“No one of concern to you,” Kojo snapped. “Do you have any information or not?”
“I can get you what you seek,” Kavel said slowly. “But we need to meet. Subspace communication is too vulnerable to compromise.”
“Understood,” the captain replied. “Where?”
“Here,” Kavel said. “Something tells me you know where my domicile is?” Nandali nodded, unable to speak for the moment. Kavel had never invited her to his home before. She had never met his new mate, and she had to admit she looked forward to doing both.
“I’ll be there within a fortnight,” the captain promised.
*****
USS Meharry
(Holodeck)
“I lied,” Dr. Elian Paskor said as he strolled along the beach, dragging his feet along the warm sand.
“About what?” Lt. Issara Taiee asked, equally enjoying the feel of the beach beneath her bare feet.
“I am something of a Lothario,” Paskor admitted. “Blame it on the green genes I suppose.” Taiee glanced up at him, with an awkward close-mouthed smile. The younger woman wasn’t sure if Elian was making a joke or not.
He wasn’t sure either. All his life, and for much of his career he had had to fight against stereotypes about his father’s people. Despite centuries of contact, the imaginations of other species were still filled with wild tales of Orion animal women and brawny, multi-pierced male corsairs.
It had only been a few years ago that he had stopped caring what others thought about him. After he had proven himself enough to silence the doubts in his mind, Elian didn’t have time to wait around for others. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I did have something of a hidden motive inviting you to the get together. I wanted to get to know you better.”
“Why?” Issara asked, her tone suspicious but the look in her eyes was a mixture of confusion and intrigue.
“There’s something…sweet about you,” the half-Orion said. “Innocent. It’s a very rare thing to see that these days.”
“Thank you,” she said after a few minutes. The doctor slowly placed his hand over hers and they walked in silence for a few minutes.
“What is this really all about?” Taiee finally asked.
“I’m not sure,” Paskor replied. “I know you’re thinking, what planet did this guy come from right about now, and I do find you attractive I’ll admit. However, it doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is at the moment.”
“Okay,” Issara replied, “because I don’t have time for anything else…even if I wanted to, which I don’t,” the human added a bit too quickly. Paskor smiled. The chief medic noticed that Taiee hadn’t removed her hand from his.
“My wish is your command,” he said, feeling more heartened than he had in a long time.
******
*****
Part Five: In Interesting Times
USS Enterprise-E
(Observation Lounge)
En Route to Starbase 116….
After Admiral Covey had brought the debriefing to a close and returned to her ship, Picard had excused the rest of the assembled officers, save Commander Riker and Captain Aurelia.
Jean-Luc took a sip from his cup of steaming Earl Grey as he sought to order his thoughts. Picard had postponed his meeting with Captain Aurelia until after the two ships rendezvoused with the Defiant. The stretch of time gave him time to reign in his temper and he hoped it did the same for his counterpart. The lull also provided Picard time to scour over the woman’s record.
Despite a fairly impressive service jacket, he was surprised that the woman had been given such a prized command so soon. From her heated rhetoric and impatient demeanor, she didn’t seem to possess the temperament to be a captain. Though Will thought otherwise.
It was for that reason that Picard wanted his Number One to sit in on the meeting. He needed another perspective. And since Riker had served with the woman personally, he provided a very valuable insight.
“Captain Aurelia,” Picard started slowly, “I wanted to discuss our recent engagement with the Alshain Origin Fleet.” She nodded, looking at him expectantly. The woman wasn’t going to make this easy, Picard realized. “I…wish to discuss how you conducted yourself.”
“Hold on,” Aurelia cut in. Picard glanced at Riker. The larger, bearded man winced. The Enterprise captain knew he had taken the wrong tact instantly. “I got my ship through a fleet of Alshain in one piece, with minimum casualties or damage. I would say that I conducted myself pretty damn well.”
“There’s a certain decorum that one must…” Jean-Luc tried again, but Aurelia cut him off again.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she said, her voice rising. “I’m sure you mean well, but I already have a father. You and I are equals, and I don’t appreciate your paternalistic tone.”
“All right Sintina,” Riker began.
“That’s Captain Aurelia,” she snapped, adding “Commander Riker” as if it were a slur. The young woman then stood up. “I can’t believe how ungrateful and arrogant you people are! Without us, those Alshain would probably be roasting you over a spit by now and this is the thanks we get.”
Picard forced his tone to remain diplomatic. “We do appreciate your assistance.”
“It doesn’t sound like it,” Aurelia replied. Her gaze turned to Riker. “And you Commander Riker, Will, I don’t know what happened to you. The old Will Riker wouldn’t have needed me to ‘explain’ my actions, he would’ve understood them.”
Riker’s face reddened, but the man said, “Things change Sintina-Captain Aurelia. We all have to grow up sometimes.”
“Well it doesn’t mean you have to grow old,” she shot back. “Captain Picard, I know you’re a legend, an icon. Hell, I read about your exploits before, during, and after my Academy days. But the Dominion gutted the officer’s corps, and there’s a whole new breed of captains these days. We were weaned on war, and we’re more willing to insure that future generations don’t get the baptism of fire that we did. If that makes us a little gruff, or the rules a little bit more flexible, so be it.” She paused to pat Riker’s shoulder. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got business to attend to on Independence.”
Picard let the tempestuous woman go. After she left, Riker turned to him. “Captain, I told you that Sintina’s a pistol.”
“More like a fully charged phaser cannon,” Picard joked, before his expression turned serious. “Will, I know that Aurelia is your friend.”
“Probably not after today,” Riker replied, only half-jokingly.
“But I have my concerns about her, and to be honest the whole crop of new captains springing up in the wake of the war,” Picard said. “We need good, reliable people out there Will.”
“I know where this is going,” Riker frowned slightly. “I like where I am Captain.”
Picard half-smiled, “and I couldn’t ask for a better Executive Officer. But what I am asking you is to think about it again. The Federation seems to be deteriorating, and all we need is for one of the new hotshot captains, like your friend, to embroil us in another conflict.”
Riker smiled. “Actually sir, that’s what some of the graybeards in the Fleet were saying about you and our Briar Patch mission.” Picard chuckled in response.
“I haven’t been called anything remotely close to ‘young’ or ‘hotshot’ in a long time,” the Enterprise captain reflected. “Now that you’ve put it that way, perhaps I’ve been too hard on Captain Aurelia.”
Riker shook his head, laughing softly. “No, you weren’t. In fact you probably should’ve really come down on her. Captain DeSoto had to read her the riot act more than once. So did I,” he recalled, a fond gleam in his blue eyes.
“If you go after that fourth and then fifth pip, you’ll get to do so again,” Picard promised. “I think she still needs your mentoring.”
“That does sound tempting,” Riker admitted. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
*****
USS Meharry
(Guest Quarters)
Captain Nandali Kojo smiled wickedly, “You’re not afraid, are you?”
“No,” Ensign Phil Westin replied a little too quickly, cinching the robe’s belt. “It’s just a little awkward that’s all…I mean your son is older than me.”
“So are my several of my grandchildren,” the Kriosian added. Westin’s face turned scarlet, drawing more laughter out of her. “That was a joke Mr. Westin. You don’t think I look like a grandmother do you?”
He nodded. “No way.” She chuckled again before turning away from him. She finished submitting the activation code. Minutes later her son Kavel appeared. He scowled at her.
“What do you want?” He asked the customary Klingon greeting. Kojo kept her joy at seeing her son behind a steely demeanor.
“I need information,” she said. “I’m sure you are aware of the recent confrontation involving two Starfleet vessels and an unidentified Defense Force ship-Vor’cha-class at Yashk’lin IV?”
He pursed his lips, considering the questioner more than the question. Kavel hadn’t even reached the Age of Ascension before his father died. Before Kojo’s demise his family had disowned him for marrying Nandali. But with Kojo being the last male heir of the House, the family laid claim to her children. In the most shameful act of weakness Nandali had ever displayed, she had allowed them to be taken, rationalizing that they would find more acceptance and have more opportunities as scions of a great Klingon House.
Nandali would never forget the frightened look on Kavel’s face, or his cries as Kojo’s stern mother Azerot dragged him away. From the cold look in his eyes for a mother he hadn’t seen since the beginning of the Dominion War, Kavel had never forgotten it either. It also didn’t help matters that Kojo had fought against the Empire during the brief Klingon-Federation war, a conflict that had cost the life of Dorei, his mate.
“What does this have to do with you?” Kavel asked. Kojo hoped, or imagined that she heard a fleck of concern somewhere in the gruff question.
“My ship was destroyed by Alshain marauders in Sector 443,” the captain answered. “A Klingon ship later appeared at Yashk’lin IV, and it was somehow connected with the Alshain.”
“Is this line secure?” Kavel squinted hard, as if he could detect deceit from across space like a Betazoid.
“Yes,” Kojo nodded. Her son glanced past her, a look of pure disgust on his face.
“Who is that?” He bellowed. Westin gulped, but stood his ground.
“No one of concern to you,” Kojo snapped. “Do you have any information or not?”
“I can get you what you seek,” Kavel said slowly. “But we need to meet. Subspace communication is too vulnerable to compromise.”
“Understood,” the captain replied. “Where?”
“Here,” Kavel said. “Something tells me you know where my domicile is?” Nandali nodded, unable to speak for the moment. Kavel had never invited her to his home before. She had never met his new mate, and she had to admit she looked forward to doing both.
“I’ll be there within a fortnight,” the captain promised.
*****
USS Meharry
(Holodeck)
“I lied,” Dr. Elian Paskor said as he strolled along the beach, dragging his feet along the warm sand.
“About what?” Lt. Issara Taiee asked, equally enjoying the feel of the beach beneath her bare feet.
“I am something of a Lothario,” Paskor admitted. “Blame it on the green genes I suppose.” Taiee glanced up at him, with an awkward close-mouthed smile. The younger woman wasn’t sure if Elian was making a joke or not.
He wasn’t sure either. All his life, and for much of his career he had had to fight against stereotypes about his father’s people. Despite centuries of contact, the imaginations of other species were still filled with wild tales of Orion animal women and brawny, multi-pierced male corsairs.
It had only been a few years ago that he had stopped caring what others thought about him. After he had proven himself enough to silence the doubts in his mind, Elian didn’t have time to wait around for others. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I did have something of a hidden motive inviting you to the get together. I wanted to get to know you better.”
“Why?” Issara asked, her tone suspicious but the look in her eyes was a mixture of confusion and intrigue.
“There’s something…sweet about you,” the half-Orion said. “Innocent. It’s a very rare thing to see that these days.”
“Thank you,” she said after a few minutes. The doctor slowly placed his hand over hers and they walked in silence for a few minutes.
“What is this really all about?” Taiee finally asked.
“I’m not sure,” Paskor replied. “I know you’re thinking, what planet did this guy come from right about now, and I do find you attractive I’ll admit. However, it doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is at the moment.”
“Okay,” Issara replied, “because I don’t have time for anything else…even if I wanted to, which I don’t,” the human added a bit too quickly. Paskor smiled. The chief medic noticed that Taiee hadn’t removed her hand from his.
“My wish is your command,” he said, feeling more heartened than he had in a long time.
******
Re: Part Five: In Interesting Times
******
USS Meharry
(Photon Torpedo Handling Area)
“Gee Commander, this is an odd request,” Lt. Luna McCall replied. “Perhaps we should check with Lt. Glover first.”
“I think you’re forgetting that I outrank you both,” Commander Anchal Sidhani snapped. “Now, do you have an empty photon torpedo tube available or not?”
“Of course, we’ve got a handful,” McCall said, pointing at the oblong, black casket-looking tubes.
“Excellent,” Sidhani said. “You know the way out.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” McCall asked. “Shall I get Dr. Paskor?” The younger woman obviously knew of her friendship with the Orion medic. She perhaps thought there was something more, like many others did.
“He’s busy,” she snapped, “Now, get back to your station!”
McCall’s face reddened and the young woman worked her jaw muscles, an insubordinate remark struggling to rip from her lips. But she wisely swallowed it and left Sidhani alone.
Anchal wished Paskor were here. The sensory deprivation treatments he had supervised had helped her immensely, until everything had unraveled again during the Alshain ambush. And now Elian was on the holodeck with the Gibraltar’s medic. She hadn’t wanted to disturb him. He seemed to have taken a surprising shining to the unremarkable younger woman, and Sidhani felt he deserved some happiness in his life for a change.
The commander opened the casing and peered down into the darkened hold. She inhaled, pushing back her fear as old memories began to simmer. She had to face her demons alone and destroy them or be destroyed. Before her fear held her back, Anchal climbed into the torpedo tube and sealed it.
*****
USS Meharry
(Chief Engineer’s Quarters)
“I still regret not attending,” Lt. Commander Pell Ojana said as she watched the happy couple jump across the broom.
“You were half way across the galaxy,” Lt. Jasmine Glover replied as she reclined on her small sofa. “Even Terrence understood that.”
“I know,” the Bajoran replied, before placing another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. “It’s just….I’m a sucker for weddings. Things just sort of happened with Soyam and I. He had always talked about having a more formal ceremony once the Cardassians had been removed from Bajor. He had always been too idealistic for his own damn good.” She smiled sadly. Jasmine nodded in sympathy, before turning off the monitor.
“I think you’ve seen enough,” she said, a note of sadness creeping into her voice. “Or perhaps I have.”
“So, what are you going to do about it?” Pell challenged. “I know you still love him Jasmine. You wouldn’t be watching your wedding again if you didn’t.”
“I do love him,” Glover replied, “but it’s complicated, you know?”
“Yeah, I do,” Pell said. “That’s why I’m going to keep my mouth shut about it and let you work it out.”
“Thank you,” the engineer smiled, before yawning.
“Rough day?” Pell asked.
“Yeah,” the woman said before stifling another yawn, “and you know right now I wouldn’t have it any other way. I need this.”
“I’ll let him know that,” Pell responded.
“Thank you,” Jasmine smiled again. “I might be beat, but I’m never tired enough not to go for another carton of butter pecan.”
“This stuff is addictive,” Pell laughed. “I so hate you right now.”
“Don’t,” Jasmine teased. “I suspect Captain Sandhurst wouldn’t mind you having a little meat on your bones.”
“And the Aegis crew didn’t think you had a sense of humor,” Pell winked.
“Really?” Jasmine asked, intrigued.
“Well…sure,” Pell answered slowly, “but I wouldn’t be worried about it.”
“So, the crew talked to you, about me?” Jasmine pressed.
“It’s no big deal, I was something like an unofficial counselor on board,” the Bajoran replied.
“So, what else did they say about me?” Pell paused, an awkward expression on her face. “They didn’t like me huh?” Jasmine frowned.
“That’s too strong a conclusion to make,” Pell replied. “It’s just they didn’t get to know you all that well before…”
Jasmine puffed out her cheeks and mimicked the sound of an explosion. “I guess I can see where they were coming from. I never really felt comfortable on the Aegis,” the woman admitted. “It was so sterile and cold, a ship built solely for killing.” She shivered. “And of course the stuff between Terrence and I didn’t help my disposition either.”
“I agree with you that Aegis wasn’t built for comfort,” Pell said. “However I miss her. She went before her time.”
“Agreed,” Jasmine said. “Do you think Terrence will get another Prometheus-class?”
Pell shook her head. “It’s doubtful,” she answered. “There is only a handful in the Fleet and its doubtful anymore will be in production soon. There are so many more priorities the Federation has to deal with first before they can crank up the war machine again,” the Bajoran darkly joked. “Though I doubt Terrence has much yearning to get back in the saddle just yet.”
“I know,” Jasmine’s eyes moistened, “with Samson still missing.” She lowered her head and said a quick prayer for her father-in-law. Pell joined her seconds later, praying that the Prophets delivered him from whatever evil had befallen him.
“Don’t worry, once the admiral comes waltzing back, Terrence will get back into the captain’s hunt,” Pell said with forced cheer. “I know he would be mortified if he got nothing less than a Galaxy-class.”
“A Galaxy was his main ambition,” Jasmine remembered. “He wanted a ship we could raise a family on,” her voice quieted. “That’s never going to happen.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Pell admonished. “Federation scientists are coming up with new stuff everyday. Sooner or later they’ll find a way to give you back what the Dominion stole from you.”
“I know,” Jasmine replied coldly. “But I’m not going to be a guinea pig again. I just can’t deal with getting my hopes up for nothing.” Once again, the Bajoran decided to wisely let the matter drop.
After finishing a second carton of ice cream, Pell said her goodbyes. After escorting the woman to the transporter room, Jasmine decided to head to engineering. Unfortunately Pell’s visit had stirred up ghosts that the Lieutenant didn’t want to face at the moment.
Glover knew they would be waiting for her when she returned to her room and right now she actually preferred Lt. McCall’s company to theirs, she realized with a cynical grin as the lift carried her into the depths of the ship.
*****
******
USS Meharry
(Photon Torpedo Handling Area)
“Gee Commander, this is an odd request,” Lt. Luna McCall replied. “Perhaps we should check with Lt. Glover first.”
“I think you’re forgetting that I outrank you both,” Commander Anchal Sidhani snapped. “Now, do you have an empty photon torpedo tube available or not?”
“Of course, we’ve got a handful,” McCall said, pointing at the oblong, black casket-looking tubes.
“Excellent,” Sidhani said. “You know the way out.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” McCall asked. “Shall I get Dr. Paskor?” The younger woman obviously knew of her friendship with the Orion medic. She perhaps thought there was something more, like many others did.
“He’s busy,” she snapped, “Now, get back to your station!”
McCall’s face reddened and the young woman worked her jaw muscles, an insubordinate remark struggling to rip from her lips. But she wisely swallowed it and left Sidhani alone.
Anchal wished Paskor were here. The sensory deprivation treatments he had supervised had helped her immensely, until everything had unraveled again during the Alshain ambush. And now Elian was on the holodeck with the Gibraltar’s medic. She hadn’t wanted to disturb him. He seemed to have taken a surprising shining to the unremarkable younger woman, and Sidhani felt he deserved some happiness in his life for a change.
The commander opened the casing and peered down into the darkened hold. She inhaled, pushing back her fear as old memories began to simmer. She had to face her demons alone and destroy them or be destroyed. Before her fear held her back, Anchal climbed into the torpedo tube and sealed it.
*****
USS Meharry
(Chief Engineer’s Quarters)
“I still regret not attending,” Lt. Commander Pell Ojana said as she watched the happy couple jump across the broom.
“You were half way across the galaxy,” Lt. Jasmine Glover replied as she reclined on her small sofa. “Even Terrence understood that.”
“I know,” the Bajoran replied, before placing another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. “It’s just….I’m a sucker for weddings. Things just sort of happened with Soyam and I. He had always talked about having a more formal ceremony once the Cardassians had been removed from Bajor. He had always been too idealistic for his own damn good.” She smiled sadly. Jasmine nodded in sympathy, before turning off the monitor.
“I think you’ve seen enough,” she said, a note of sadness creeping into her voice. “Or perhaps I have.”
“So, what are you going to do about it?” Pell challenged. “I know you still love him Jasmine. You wouldn’t be watching your wedding again if you didn’t.”
“I do love him,” Glover replied, “but it’s complicated, you know?”
“Yeah, I do,” Pell said. “That’s why I’m going to keep my mouth shut about it and let you work it out.”
“Thank you,” the engineer smiled, before yawning.
“Rough day?” Pell asked.
“Yeah,” the woman said before stifling another yawn, “and you know right now I wouldn’t have it any other way. I need this.”
“I’ll let him know that,” Pell responded.
“Thank you,” Jasmine smiled again. “I might be beat, but I’m never tired enough not to go for another carton of butter pecan.”
“This stuff is addictive,” Pell laughed. “I so hate you right now.”
“Don’t,” Jasmine teased. “I suspect Captain Sandhurst wouldn’t mind you having a little meat on your bones.”
“And the Aegis crew didn’t think you had a sense of humor,” Pell winked.
“Really?” Jasmine asked, intrigued.
“Well…sure,” Pell answered slowly, “but I wouldn’t be worried about it.”
“So, the crew talked to you, about me?” Jasmine pressed.
“It’s no big deal, I was something like an unofficial counselor on board,” the Bajoran replied.
“So, what else did they say about me?” Pell paused, an awkward expression on her face. “They didn’t like me huh?” Jasmine frowned.
“That’s too strong a conclusion to make,” Pell replied. “It’s just they didn’t get to know you all that well before…”
Jasmine puffed out her cheeks and mimicked the sound of an explosion. “I guess I can see where they were coming from. I never really felt comfortable on the Aegis,” the woman admitted. “It was so sterile and cold, a ship built solely for killing.” She shivered. “And of course the stuff between Terrence and I didn’t help my disposition either.”
“I agree with you that Aegis wasn’t built for comfort,” Pell said. “However I miss her. She went before her time.”
“Agreed,” Jasmine said. “Do you think Terrence will get another Prometheus-class?”
Pell shook her head. “It’s doubtful,” she answered. “There is only a handful in the Fleet and its doubtful anymore will be in production soon. There are so many more priorities the Federation has to deal with first before they can crank up the war machine again,” the Bajoran darkly joked. “Though I doubt Terrence has much yearning to get back in the saddle just yet.”
“I know,” Jasmine’s eyes moistened, “with Samson still missing.” She lowered her head and said a quick prayer for her father-in-law. Pell joined her seconds later, praying that the Prophets delivered him from whatever evil had befallen him.
“Don’t worry, once the admiral comes waltzing back, Terrence will get back into the captain’s hunt,” Pell said with forced cheer. “I know he would be mortified if he got nothing less than a Galaxy-class.”
“A Galaxy was his main ambition,” Jasmine remembered. “He wanted a ship we could raise a family on,” her voice quieted. “That’s never going to happen.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Pell admonished. “Federation scientists are coming up with new stuff everyday. Sooner or later they’ll find a way to give you back what the Dominion stole from you.”
“I know,” Jasmine replied coldly. “But I’m not going to be a guinea pig again. I just can’t deal with getting my hopes up for nothing.” Once again, the Bajoran decided to wisely let the matter drop.
After finishing a second carton of ice cream, Pell said her goodbyes. After escorting the woman to the transporter room, Jasmine decided to head to engineering. Unfortunately Pell’s visit had stirred up ghosts that the Lieutenant didn’t want to face at the moment.
Glover knew they would be waiting for her when she returned to her room and right now she actually preferred Lt. McCall’s company to theirs, she realized with a cynical grin as the lift carried her into the depths of the ship.
*****
Re: Part Five: In Interesting Times
*****
USS Gibraltar
(Captain’s Ready Room)
Yashk’lin IV
Captain Donald Sandhurst hated leaving Yashk’lin IV with so many people in dire straits but his ship desperately needed repairs. He had begun preparing the battered Connie for departure hours after the arrival of the Galaxy-class Buran and the medical ship Hippocrates.
They would be lending as much assistance as they could to they could to the survivors, many suffering from burns and radiation sickness caused by the destruction of the Klingon ship so close to their planet.
Sandhurst felt terrible about it. Not even Pell could dislodge the dark cloud that had gathered over him. The Bajoran mistakenly believed it was caused by guilt. In part it was, but the thing that really frightened Donald and that he was afraid to reveal to her was that he would do it again, consign millions of innocent Yashk’ani to death and worse to save her and his crew.
The truth sickened him, but Donald had to face it and figure out what to do about it. He blamed the Baron for the blot now on his soul. The monster had tortured Donald, ripped him apart and rebuilt him into some type of mutated version of himself.
He accepted pain and death far too easily now. He barely blinked an eye reading the reports of the crewmen who had died on this mission. Life had lost something special, something sacred for him.
Suffering had become routine. He had first seen this in the war, and the Baron’s ministrations had brought it home to him. All that mattered was your little circle, your corner of the galaxy and anyone that trespassed onto that corner was frinxed. Donald chuckled mirthlessly as he stared out the window of his viewport. He was becoming more like his foil Captain Glover everyday.
He allowed his door to chime twice before he responded. Commander Liana Ramirez walked slowly into the room, though to Donald it almost looked like she slinked into the room.
Uncharacteristically, she kept her head down, avoiding eye contact. After Sandhurst had told the woman to take a seat. He started before she could, “Commander Ramirez, your behavior was inexcusable and unbecoming,” he snapped. The woman almost flinched from the force of his words.
“I’m sorry sir,” she said.
“And you should be,” Sandhurst replied. “You not only represent this ship and crew; you represent Starfleet, the Federation, and most importantly yourself. You let us all down the other day.”
“I know,” she replied.
“No, you don’t,” Sandhurst huffed, laying into the woman. “Though Captain M’Bira had intended to sweep this under the rug, I’m not. You’re officially on report; a reprimand will go on your permanent record.”
“But sir,” Ramirez pleaded. “If I get a black mark on my record…”
“You might not ever get these,” he tugged the red undershirt beneath his tunic where his captain’s pips were located. “And if you ever act so immaturely again, I’ll make sure you don’t.”
“You have my word.” Ramirez promised. There was wetness in the corner’s of the woman’s eyes, but she was too strong to cry, too proud to beg Donald to change his mind. But he asked for her opinion anyway. She offered none.
“All right,” Sandhurst sighed, “Dismissed.” After the woman left, he pulled out the datapad with the reprimand and deleted it. He smiled. I might have a darker soul, he realized, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t have a sense of humor.
*****
USS Gibraltar
(Executive Officer’s Office)
“So, how did it go?” Commander Marc Bolden asked as soon as Ramirez pounded through the door. She didn’t answer him until after she breezed by and claimed her seat.
“Not good,” she said glumly. “But hell, I deserved to get chewed out. I acted like a two year old.”
“But incredibly sexy nonetheless,” he added.
“Marcus, you’re not helping.”
“Sorry.” He said with a shrug, before adding. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yeah,” she smiled. “Captain Sandhurst is a pretty forgiving sort. He’s probably already deleted the reprimand I expected him to give me. I doubt he even wrote one up. I think he just wanted to rattle me, and don’t think I didn’t need it.”
“Wow,” Bolden smirked. “Lee is actually deflating her own ego, and who thought that all the wonders left in this universe existed solely in space.”
“Stick it Bolden,” she laughed. “So, what’s next for you?” She didn’t want to deaden the light mood, but her curiosity, and concern for her friend got the better of her.
Bolden sighed, a sad expression now shadowing his features. “I’ve decided to stay here for a while, to help with the environmental clean-up effort,” he said. “I don’t think I’m ready to don my space shoes again so soon.”
She nodded. Liana could only imagine what Marc was going through: the loss of his ship and much of his crew, his career in limbo. Some time away from it all might be good for him though. “Are you starting immediately?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, Gibraltar will be on blocks for at least another week to repair this fresh damage.”
“What are you proposing?”
“That we catch up on old times?” Ramirez smiled. “What do you say?”
“Actually, my social calendar is booked,” Bolden said, then added, “Oh, what the hell? As long as it doesn’t involve wrestling count me in.”
*****
*****
USS Gibraltar
(Captain’s Ready Room)
Yashk’lin IV
Captain Donald Sandhurst hated leaving Yashk’lin IV with so many people in dire straits but his ship desperately needed repairs. He had begun preparing the battered Connie for departure hours after the arrival of the Galaxy-class Buran and the medical ship Hippocrates.
They would be lending as much assistance as they could to they could to the survivors, many suffering from burns and radiation sickness caused by the destruction of the Klingon ship so close to their planet.
Sandhurst felt terrible about it. Not even Pell could dislodge the dark cloud that had gathered over him. The Bajoran mistakenly believed it was caused by guilt. In part it was, but the thing that really frightened Donald and that he was afraid to reveal to her was that he would do it again, consign millions of innocent Yashk’ani to death and worse to save her and his crew.
The truth sickened him, but Donald had to face it and figure out what to do about it. He blamed the Baron for the blot now on his soul. The monster had tortured Donald, ripped him apart and rebuilt him into some type of mutated version of himself.
He accepted pain and death far too easily now. He barely blinked an eye reading the reports of the crewmen who had died on this mission. Life had lost something special, something sacred for him.
Suffering had become routine. He had first seen this in the war, and the Baron’s ministrations had brought it home to him. All that mattered was your little circle, your corner of the galaxy and anyone that trespassed onto that corner was frinxed. Donald chuckled mirthlessly as he stared out the window of his viewport. He was becoming more like his foil Captain Glover everyday.
He allowed his door to chime twice before he responded. Commander Liana Ramirez walked slowly into the room, though to Donald it almost looked like she slinked into the room.
Uncharacteristically, she kept her head down, avoiding eye contact. After Sandhurst had told the woman to take a seat. He started before she could, “Commander Ramirez, your behavior was inexcusable and unbecoming,” he snapped. The woman almost flinched from the force of his words.
“I’m sorry sir,” she said.
“And you should be,” Sandhurst replied. “You not only represent this ship and crew; you represent Starfleet, the Federation, and most importantly yourself. You let us all down the other day.”
“I know,” she replied.
“No, you don’t,” Sandhurst huffed, laying into the woman. “Though Captain M’Bira had intended to sweep this under the rug, I’m not. You’re officially on report; a reprimand will go on your permanent record.”
“But sir,” Ramirez pleaded. “If I get a black mark on my record…”
“You might not ever get these,” he tugged the red undershirt beneath his tunic where his captain’s pips were located. “And if you ever act so immaturely again, I’ll make sure you don’t.”
“You have my word.” Ramirez promised. There was wetness in the corner’s of the woman’s eyes, but she was too strong to cry, too proud to beg Donald to change his mind. But he asked for her opinion anyway. She offered none.
“All right,” Sandhurst sighed, “Dismissed.” After the woman left, he pulled out the datapad with the reprimand and deleted it. He smiled. I might have a darker soul, he realized, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t have a sense of humor.
*****
USS Gibraltar
(Executive Officer’s Office)
“So, how did it go?” Commander Marc Bolden asked as soon as Ramirez pounded through the door. She didn’t answer him until after she breezed by and claimed her seat.
“Not good,” she said glumly. “But hell, I deserved to get chewed out. I acted like a two year old.”
“But incredibly sexy nonetheless,” he added.
“Marcus, you’re not helping.”
“Sorry.” He said with a shrug, before adding. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yeah,” she smiled. “Captain Sandhurst is a pretty forgiving sort. He’s probably already deleted the reprimand I expected him to give me. I doubt he even wrote one up. I think he just wanted to rattle me, and don’t think I didn’t need it.”
“Wow,” Bolden smirked. “Lee is actually deflating her own ego, and who thought that all the wonders left in this universe existed solely in space.”
“Stick it Bolden,” she laughed. “So, what’s next for you?” She didn’t want to deaden the light mood, but her curiosity, and concern for her friend got the better of her.
Bolden sighed, a sad expression now shadowing his features. “I’ve decided to stay here for a while, to help with the environmental clean-up effort,” he said. “I don’t think I’m ready to don my space shoes again so soon.”
She nodded. Liana could only imagine what Marc was going through: the loss of his ship and much of his crew, his career in limbo. Some time away from it all might be good for him though. “Are you starting immediately?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, Gibraltar will be on blocks for at least another week to repair this fresh damage.”
“What are you proposing?”
“That we catch up on old times?” Ramirez smiled. “What do you say?”
“Actually, my social calendar is booked,” Bolden said, then added, “Oh, what the hell? As long as it doesn’t involve wrestling count me in.”
*****
Re: Part Five: In Interesting Times
*****
USS Buran
Sector 443
Captain Storr had called the captains together for a final briefing before the Meharry and Gibraltar set out for Starbase 116.
The white haired Vulcan had kept the meeting brisk, not allowing any of his more emotional colleagues to dwell in grief, regret, or recriminations. Donald was thankful for that in a way, but at the same time he needed to vent, and he didn’t feel right talking about his overwhelming feeling of helplessness in the face of such misery on Yashk’lin IV to his crew, even Pell.
If anyone could understand, Sandhurst had assumed that his fellow captains might. They each commanded powerful vessels that were capable of rescuing planets or leveling them. They each were responsible for hundreds or thousands of lives. They each had been entrusted with a tremendous responsibility and power. So, surely they could understand how impotent and weak Donald felt now, as disillusioned.
Fortunately for Storr, he had learned emotional repression early on, and had forgotten or never learned the adage misery loves company. After the meeting had been adjourned, Captain Batung of the Hippocrates pulled Storr to the side. Captain Kojo stalked out of the room. Kojo was staying aboard the Meharry until they reached SB 116. After that, the future appeared murky for the woman.
Donald silently wished the best for her. He had never met Kojo before, but they both had served aboard the USS Cuffe under Captain Glover. Sandhurst had wanted to swap Cuffe stories, hoping to lighten the woman’s load, but the formidable Kriosian would never stay around long enough to allow Sandhurst to work his magic.
Exiting the room in Kojo’s wake, Captain M’Bira rushed to catch up to him before the turbolift doors closed. Sandhurst ordered the lift to take him to Transporter Room One. “How are you doing Donald?” She asked. It had taken him several days to get the woman to chuck her formality. After they had both bled together, lost crew together, and witnessed the near immolation of a planet together, protocol didn’t account for much.
“I’m fine M’Bira,” he replied with a little smile. “How is your crew?”
The Caitian’s muzzle twitched. “Not well, Lt. Ra-Goran especially. My counselor and the counselors from the Buran are doing excellent work, but I am sending all of my crew to the counseling staff at Starbase 116 as soon as we dock.”
“That bad huh?” Sandhurst asked, his smile turning into a pained frown.
“Yes,” she nodded. “Though some of my crew had seen combat, many of them were on the fringes of the Dominion War, tending wounded veterans or serving on relief details for border worlds. The kind of vicious, hand to hand combat they just endured will be something that will scar them forever.” She concluded, lowering her head.
“Well, it’s best they see it now so they can be prepared for the next time,” Sandhurst replied. The Caitian placed a furry hand on Donald’s chest, over his heart. He looked at her, curious about the gesture. “What are you doing?”
“Just seeing if there’s a heartbeat in there,” M’Bira said. “Did the captain’s chair make you so cold Donald?”
“I honestly don’t know,” the captain replied, shaking his head. “But whatever it was, the blinders are now off. M’Bira for your sake, and that of your crew, I suggest you remove your blinders before someone…or something snatches them off for you.”
*****
Cousteau
(A week and a half later…)
Ensign Brett Lightner finished “Yellow Submarine” with a smattering of applause from the senior staff. Lt. Commander Pell Ojana couldn’t believe that there was something endearing about the young man’s off key delivery. She figured it was more his earnestness and his zest for life that were more appealing than his singing.
She wished she had more of the ensign’s happy-go-luckiness, but the Cardassians had squashed that out of her decades ago, and the years kept adding onto that stone the snakeheads had placed on her heart when they executed her husband Soyam.
Unfortunately she was starting to see the weight of the galaxy weigh down too many people that she cared for. Terrence Glover, her former captain and one of her closest friends seemed rooted in the dark for the last several years, and she saw the light dimming in Donald’s eyes more too with each new crisis.
There was too much fire in Commander Ramirez to ever succumb to the gloom. However, the handsome Commander Bolden, from the Valour, might be able to douse her flame. The two sat together on the yacht’s starboard side long, leather couch, sandwiched between Juneau and Pava. Lt. Commander Carrick, also from Valour, sat on the arm of the couch. The yacht was packed to the gills. Sahira Dunleavy sat cross-legged on the floor beside Ensigns Shanthi and Hanoj.
In the makeshift performance area, Lighnter fronted a motley band made up of Ashok with his Vulcan lyre and the Tellarite Tark with a Terran flute. Lt. Issara Taiee cradled her saxophone as if it were made of pure latinum.
Donald sat beside her on the opposite couch. He had placed the yacht on automatic pilot so he could enjoy the concert.
Pell regarded Lar’ragos for a second. Whatever light the El Aurian might’ve possessed he had probably lost it centuries before either she or Donald was born. There was something unsettling about the man, dangerous. But for some reason, he and Donald shared a bond as strong as hers and Terrence’s. For that she was glad, because Lar’ragos wasn’t someone she would want as Donald’s enemy, or anyone else’s either. The El Aurian gamely partook in the fun, but his dead eyes didn’t match up with his smile.
Lightner continued to warble through several more Old Earth songs until Ensign Hanoj asked to join in. The Bolian gave a rousing rendition of a song Donald seemed to recognize instantly. “‘Shout’ was one of my mother’s favorites,” Sandhurst replied, a wistful gleam in his eye. “She was an aficionado of songs she called soul music,” he added. “Care to dance?” He got up and reached out his hand.
“Donald, are you serious?” Pell asked. They had only danced in public once before, at a first contact function aboard the Chevalier and that had only been because protocol had demanded it. He pulled her up with surprising ease and into his arms. They awkwardly began to dance. Despite his enthusiasm, Sandhurst was wise to let her lead. Eventually the tiny cabin filled with couples: Pava and Carrick, Ramirez and Bolden, and even Kuenre and Dunleavy. Only Juneau hung back.
Seeming to feed off the positive reaction, Hanoj belted out more songs, with the band backing her up. The couples continued to dance until a proximity alert ended their fun. Donald released Pell and ran to the cockpit. He was just sitting down when something slammed into the yacht, causing the tiny vessel to judder. Pava, followed by Pell were at Sandhurst’s side immediately.
The El Aurian was scanning the sensor log. “I don’t see any ships,” he said, half-relieved.
“Because there aren’t any,” Sandhurst said. “I think we just ran into some space debris.”
“I hope it didn’t damage the yacht,” Pell said in sympathy.
“Me neither,” Donald said glumly. The first thing he was going to do when he got back to Space Station Lemuria was personally check the outer hull for scratches or other damage. He would hate to ding up Captain Picard’s yacht. Not only would it be highly irresponsible, all the bridges he had attempt to repair with Picard and his crew would go up in flames.
“So, what do we do now sir?” Ensign Lightner asked. The puppy-dog luck on the young man’s face made his feelings clear. He didn’t want the party to end. Pell was both glad and surprised to find out Donald shared that sentiment.
“Let’s dance,” Captain Sandhurst said.
*****
*****
USS Buran
Sector 443
Captain Storr had called the captains together for a final briefing before the Meharry and Gibraltar set out for Starbase 116.
The white haired Vulcan had kept the meeting brisk, not allowing any of his more emotional colleagues to dwell in grief, regret, or recriminations. Donald was thankful for that in a way, but at the same time he needed to vent, and he didn’t feel right talking about his overwhelming feeling of helplessness in the face of such misery on Yashk’lin IV to his crew, even Pell.
If anyone could understand, Sandhurst had assumed that his fellow captains might. They each commanded powerful vessels that were capable of rescuing planets or leveling them. They each were responsible for hundreds or thousands of lives. They each had been entrusted with a tremendous responsibility and power. So, surely they could understand how impotent and weak Donald felt now, as disillusioned.
Fortunately for Storr, he had learned emotional repression early on, and had forgotten or never learned the adage misery loves company. After the meeting had been adjourned, Captain Batung of the Hippocrates pulled Storr to the side. Captain Kojo stalked out of the room. Kojo was staying aboard the Meharry until they reached SB 116. After that, the future appeared murky for the woman.
Donald silently wished the best for her. He had never met Kojo before, but they both had served aboard the USS Cuffe under Captain Glover. Sandhurst had wanted to swap Cuffe stories, hoping to lighten the woman’s load, but the formidable Kriosian would never stay around long enough to allow Sandhurst to work his magic.
Exiting the room in Kojo’s wake, Captain M’Bira rushed to catch up to him before the turbolift doors closed. Sandhurst ordered the lift to take him to Transporter Room One. “How are you doing Donald?” She asked. It had taken him several days to get the woman to chuck her formality. After they had both bled together, lost crew together, and witnessed the near immolation of a planet together, protocol didn’t account for much.
“I’m fine M’Bira,” he replied with a little smile. “How is your crew?”
The Caitian’s muzzle twitched. “Not well, Lt. Ra-Goran especially. My counselor and the counselors from the Buran are doing excellent work, but I am sending all of my crew to the counseling staff at Starbase 116 as soon as we dock.”
“That bad huh?” Sandhurst asked, his smile turning into a pained frown.
“Yes,” she nodded. “Though some of my crew had seen combat, many of them were on the fringes of the Dominion War, tending wounded veterans or serving on relief details for border worlds. The kind of vicious, hand to hand combat they just endured will be something that will scar them forever.” She concluded, lowering her head.
“Well, it’s best they see it now so they can be prepared for the next time,” Sandhurst replied. The Caitian placed a furry hand on Donald’s chest, over his heart. He looked at her, curious about the gesture. “What are you doing?”
“Just seeing if there’s a heartbeat in there,” M’Bira said. “Did the captain’s chair make you so cold Donald?”
“I honestly don’t know,” the captain replied, shaking his head. “But whatever it was, the blinders are now off. M’Bira for your sake, and that of your crew, I suggest you remove your blinders before someone…or something snatches them off for you.”
*****
Cousteau
(A week and a half later…)
Ensign Brett Lightner finished “Yellow Submarine” with a smattering of applause from the senior staff. Lt. Commander Pell Ojana couldn’t believe that there was something endearing about the young man’s off key delivery. She figured it was more his earnestness and his zest for life that were more appealing than his singing.
She wished she had more of the ensign’s happy-go-luckiness, but the Cardassians had squashed that out of her decades ago, and the years kept adding onto that stone the snakeheads had placed on her heart when they executed her husband Soyam.
Unfortunately she was starting to see the weight of the galaxy weigh down too many people that she cared for. Terrence Glover, her former captain and one of her closest friends seemed rooted in the dark for the last several years, and she saw the light dimming in Donald’s eyes more too with each new crisis.
There was too much fire in Commander Ramirez to ever succumb to the gloom. However, the handsome Commander Bolden, from the Valour, might be able to douse her flame. The two sat together on the yacht’s starboard side long, leather couch, sandwiched between Juneau and Pava. Lt. Commander Carrick, also from Valour, sat on the arm of the couch. The yacht was packed to the gills. Sahira Dunleavy sat cross-legged on the floor beside Ensigns Shanthi and Hanoj.
In the makeshift performance area, Lighnter fronted a motley band made up of Ashok with his Vulcan lyre and the Tellarite Tark with a Terran flute. Lt. Issara Taiee cradled her saxophone as if it were made of pure latinum.
Donald sat beside her on the opposite couch. He had placed the yacht on automatic pilot so he could enjoy the concert.
Pell regarded Lar’ragos for a second. Whatever light the El Aurian might’ve possessed he had probably lost it centuries before either she or Donald was born. There was something unsettling about the man, dangerous. But for some reason, he and Donald shared a bond as strong as hers and Terrence’s. For that she was glad, because Lar’ragos wasn’t someone she would want as Donald’s enemy, or anyone else’s either. The El Aurian gamely partook in the fun, but his dead eyes didn’t match up with his smile.
Lightner continued to warble through several more Old Earth songs until Ensign Hanoj asked to join in. The Bolian gave a rousing rendition of a song Donald seemed to recognize instantly. “‘Shout’ was one of my mother’s favorites,” Sandhurst replied, a wistful gleam in his eye. “She was an aficionado of songs she called soul music,” he added. “Care to dance?” He got up and reached out his hand.
“Donald, are you serious?” Pell asked. They had only danced in public once before, at a first contact function aboard the Chevalier and that had only been because protocol had demanded it. He pulled her up with surprising ease and into his arms. They awkwardly began to dance. Despite his enthusiasm, Sandhurst was wise to let her lead. Eventually the tiny cabin filled with couples: Pava and Carrick, Ramirez and Bolden, and even Kuenre and Dunleavy. Only Juneau hung back.
Seeming to feed off the positive reaction, Hanoj belted out more songs, with the band backing her up. The couples continued to dance until a proximity alert ended their fun. Donald released Pell and ran to the cockpit. He was just sitting down when something slammed into the yacht, causing the tiny vessel to judder. Pava, followed by Pell were at Sandhurst’s side immediately.
The El Aurian was scanning the sensor log. “I don’t see any ships,” he said, half-relieved.
“Because there aren’t any,” Sandhurst said. “I think we just ran into some space debris.”
“I hope it didn’t damage the yacht,” Pell said in sympathy.
“Me neither,” Donald said glumly. The first thing he was going to do when he got back to Space Station Lemuria was personally check the outer hull for scratches or other damage. He would hate to ding up Captain Picard’s yacht. Not only would it be highly irresponsible, all the bridges he had attempt to repair with Picard and his crew would go up in flames.
“So, what do we do now sir?” Ensign Lightner asked. The puppy-dog luck on the young man’s face made his feelings clear. He didn’t want the party to end. Pell was both glad and surprised to find out Donald shared that sentiment.
“Let’s dance,” Captain Sandhurst said.
*****
Re: Part Five: In Interesting Times
An excellent wrap-up to a terrific story. Gibraltar and Meharry come through battered but intact, certainly more fortunate than the Valour. Pell and M’Bira’s observations of Sandhurst’s darkening demeanor are telling, as are Jasmine’s fears and regrets following her split from Terrence.
The destruction suffered by Yashk’lin IV resulting from the explosion of the Klingon ship will be with Sandhurst for some time to come. But as noted, he feels bad that he doesn’t feel worse about it. I guess he won’t be able to throw Loval in Glover’s face anymore!
Aurelia remains unrepentantly arrogant, seemingly taking pleasure in rubbing Picard’s face in the aftermath of her actions. She’s quickly gaining a reputation as a loose cannon, and it will be interesting to see how this pans out for her career in the coming months and years.
And now that the Alshain have been manipulated and bloodied by the events of Prophets and Loss and Fall Out, it is nearly a certainty that the Exarchate will be rebuilding its military might with it’s sights set on a rematch with the Federation. A proud people like the Alshain won’t take such defeats lightly, and as long-lived a species as they are, they can hold a grudge for centuries, if necessary.
It’s a dark, brooding, and tumultuous adventure you’ve penned here, DarKush, and our mutual Trekverse is much richer for it. :thumbsup:
An excellent wrap-up to a terrific story. Gibraltar and Meharry come through battered but intact, certainly more fortunate than the Valour. Pell and M’Bira’s observations of Sandhurst’s darkening demeanor are telling, as are Jasmine’s fears and regrets following her split from Terrence.
The destruction suffered by Yashk’lin IV resulting from the explosion of the Klingon ship will be with Sandhurst for some time to come. But as noted, he feels bad that he doesn’t feel worse about it. I guess he won’t be able to throw Loval in Glover’s face anymore!
Aurelia remains unrepentantly arrogant, seemingly taking pleasure in rubbing Picard’s face in the aftermath of her actions. She’s quickly gaining a reputation as a loose cannon, and it will be interesting to see how this pans out for her career in the coming months and years.
And now that the Alshain have been manipulated and bloodied by the events of Prophets and Loss and Fall Out, it is nearly a certainty that the Exarchate will be rebuilding its military might with it’s sights set on a rematch with the Federation. A proud people like the Alshain won’t take such defeats lightly, and as long-lived a species as they are, they can hold a grudge for centuries, if necessary.
It’s a dark, brooding, and tumultuous adventure you’ve penned here, DarKush, and our mutual Trekverse is much richer for it. :thumbsup:
Re: Part Five: In Interesting Times
I finally realized what you have been doing differently with the canon characters. You have so interwoven the aftermath of the Dominion War into the psyche of Starfleet that anyone around for the whole thing has been inexorably changed.
Picard is doing his best to be steadfast in his belief systems, but with all the other officers out there without his experiance or age... The stress on him is obvious.
To paraphrase Bob Dylan, Oh the times they are a changing. But one can't help but wonder... For the better, or does even that depend on the perspective of who is making that call.
I finally realized what you have been doing differently with the canon characters. You have so interwoven the aftermath of the Dominion War into the psyche of Starfleet that anyone around for the whole thing has been inexorably changed.
Picard is doing his best to be steadfast in his belief systems, but with all the other officers out there without his experiance or age... The stress on him is obvious.
To paraphrase Bob Dylan, Oh the times they are a changing. But one can't help but wonder... For the better, or does even that depend on the perspective of who is making that call.
Re: Part Five: In Interesting Times
Gibraltar,
The story's not quite done yet. I've got at least one more post. Thank you for your comments. But also thank you for planting the seed for this story in the "Rock and a Hard Case" vignette. BTW, when are we going to see more Gibraltar vignettes coming? Also, you really did a great job laying the foundation for "Fall Out" and any future Alshain stories with "Prophets and Loss."
Dulak,
Very cool observation. I guess I wasn't totally consciously thinking about the war's impact on Starfleet's psyche, except for its impact on Glover's, which I allude to in "The Valley of Peace". But that's the way it has come out in many of my stories it seems.
Which I think makes sense. The Dominion War was the first full scale war the Federation ever had IMO. I don't really count the Klingon-Federation wars. The first was too short and the second didn't seem to be as wide-ranging.
Sidenote: I think a pre-TOS Klingon-Fed. War on the scale of the Earth-Romulan War would've been sweet. It didn't make any sense that the Klingons wouldn't test themselves en masse against the Federation sooner than "Errand of Mercy".
Back to the post...Yeah, the DW should have an impact. It should change things, make people see things differently than before. I'm assuming that billions of people died, and there was massive property damage, environmental degradation, etc. as a result of the war.
With DT being a post-war series I think it would be a disservice not to address that, plus it's a goldmine for potential stories or character arcs.
Gibraltar,
The story's not quite done yet. I've got at least one more post. Thank you for your comments. But also thank you for planting the seed for this story in the "Rock and a Hard Case" vignette. BTW, when are we going to see more Gibraltar vignettes coming? Also, you really did a great job laying the foundation for "Fall Out" and any future Alshain stories with "Prophets and Loss."
Dulak,
Very cool observation. I guess I wasn't totally consciously thinking about the war's impact on Starfleet's psyche, except for its impact on Glover's, which I allude to in "The Valley of Peace". But that's the way it has come out in many of my stories it seems.
Which I think makes sense. The Dominion War was the first full scale war the Federation ever had IMO. I don't really count the Klingon-Federation wars. The first was too short and the second didn't seem to be as wide-ranging.
Sidenote: I think a pre-TOS Klingon-Fed. War on the scale of the Earth-Romulan War would've been sweet. It didn't make any sense that the Klingons wouldn't test themselves en masse against the Federation sooner than "Errand of Mercy".
Back to the post...Yeah, the DW should have an impact. It should change things, make people see things differently than before. I'm assuming that billions of people died, and there was massive property damage, environmental degradation, etc. as a result of the war.
With DT being a post-war series I think it would be a disservice not to address that, plus it's a goldmine for potential stories or character arcs.
Re: Part Five: In Interesting Times
To me, one of the most important pieces of fallout from the Dominion War would be a growing division between old line pre-war captains, many of whom would be devoted primarily to exploration such as Picard and younger captains such as Aurelia who earned their spurs in combat and are a bit quicker on the trigger. Then you have captains like Glover, Shelby, and Sandhurst who are a bit of both and find themselves more or less in the middle. This conflict can also be extended to the political stage as you have those who are defense oriented versus those who want to ramp down military preparedness and resume the exploratory role of Starfleet.
This confrontation has left its scars, but I have a feeling the worst is yet to come. Again, your character work was outstanding here--not only do you have a strong grasp of your characters, but you also did a wonderful job bringing the depth to the guest stars such as Sandy and Aurelia. I think this shared universe of ours gives us an interesting advantage in that the different authors can offer fresh perspectives on the others' characters which adds even more depth and twists to them.
To me, one of the most important pieces of fallout from the Dominion War would be a growing division between old line pre-war captains, many of whom would be devoted primarily to exploration such as Picard and younger captains such as Aurelia who earned their spurs in combat and are a bit quicker on the trigger. Then you have captains like Glover, Shelby, and Sandhurst who are a bit of both and find themselves more or less in the middle. This conflict can also be extended to the political stage as you have those who are defense oriented versus those who want to ramp down military preparedness and resume the exploratory role of Starfleet.
This confrontation has left its scars, but I have a feeling the worst is yet to come. Again, your character work was outstanding here--not only do you have a strong grasp of your characters, but you also did a wonderful job bringing the depth to the guest stars such as Sandy and Aurelia. I think this shared universe of ours gives us an interesting advantage in that the different authors can offer fresh perspectives on the others' characters which adds even more depth and twists to them.
Re: Part Five: In Interesting Times
*****
Villa of House Lorath
(Khemet Sector)
Klingon Empire
“Captain Zarkh, son of Yabak, your service to the Empire will not be forgotten,” General Lorath said with a knowing smile. Zarkh curtly nodded, returning a stained, jagged tooth smile.
“See that it doesn’t,” the captain replied before disabling the comlink. Seconds later, several beings were beamed into his private chamber. Lorath allowed them to orient themselves to their new surroundings for a few minutes before he began.
“Lt. Kosta,” he snapped, “Report.” The Kajh science officer began rambling, trying to explain the reasons for Qorb’s failure. But there was no true excuse, and even if there was a legitimate reason, it would do nothing to replace the loss of almost four hundred warriors and one of the best warships in the entire Defense Force.
After he had heard enough from Kosta, he dismissed the man. Lorath would decide later if he would kill the sensor officer. He turned his full attention onto the Exarch and his family. They had been regarding him coldly while he had torn into Kosta. Captain Zarkh had told him that he had retrieved both escape vehicles from the Kajh on the rim of Sector 443. Instead of reporting the incident to his authorities, Zarkh had wisely come to Lorath first.
“Exarch Jedalla, I had hoped we would meet under better circumstances,” Lorath began charitably.
“Minor setbacks, nothing more,” Jedalla said. “All we need to do is gather the scattered forces still loyal to me and strike Alshain Proper now, where the people by now are tearing apart the capital city awaiting my return.”
Lorath shook his head, pursing his lips. “You’ve been stuck in that crate for too long Exarch,” the general said. “Chairman T’Riav has declared martial law, and he has enough support from the military to enforce it for the foreseeable future.”
“Impossible,” Jedalla roared. He futilely looked at his consort and then his children and two-man entourage for support. “That blowhard T’Riav is Chairman now? What happened to C’Oemnm?”
“Murdered,” the general answered. “After he gassed the protestors clamoring for your return, murdered a dissenting Committee member, and possibly flattened a Federation Embassy.”
“Orthlin C’Oemnm was a fool, but he wasn’t unhinged,” Jedalla spat. “I wonder what is really going on behind the veil.”
“I do as well,” Lorath replied. “And I am working to remedy that unfortunate situation as we speak.”
*****
The Warrens
(Undercity)
Alshain Proper
Far beneath the glittering skylines existed another world, one in which survival instinct and barbarity were far more essential to continuing on to the next day than a recreational pursuits for the nobility.
Though Sharrl N’Soto cared little for convention, her Peer upbringing made her revolt at the site of Jang O’Jinn chasing after a grubit like a common, rangy urchin. The dauphin had doffed the expensive clothing of his station and was now dressed in the shabby, rough-hewn fabrics of the untitled. N’Soto wore similar clothing.
They had escaped into the underbelly of the capital city in an attempt to avoid being captured by forces loyal to the Committee. The restoration had sputtered, leaving them no choice but to merge into the muck of the Warrens. N’Soto’s captain’s attempt to buy or bribe passage off world had been stymied by the martial law decree issued by the new Chairman, T’Riav.
So, they had decided to bide their time, waiting for the right opportunity to escape off world and hopefully find Jedalla before the flame of restoration extinguished completely.
The captain had reluctantly allowed Jang to accompany N’Soto on her food hunt. He had spotted the sickly looking grubit darting away from an overflowing garbage receptacle before she had and the young man quickly gave chase, causing an unnecessary ruckus in the process. N’Soto furtively looked around, trying to see if anyone was paying too close attention the Jang. The last thing she wanted to do was have someone alert the authorities or worse.
“Quiet down,” she whispered harshly after Jang crashed into another garbage receptacle as the agile grubit dashed behind it for cover. Jang ran around the side, hoping to block his escape. He growled in anger moments later. “It got away.”
“That’s all right, we’ll find another one,” N’Soto said, “or we’ll find something else to eat.”
“I don’t like to be denied,” Jang snapped. He inhaled deeply, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve got its air scent. Come, it’s just around the corner.” He grabbed her hand briefly to yank her along. After he broke contact, he ran around the corner. N’Soto reached him just in time to see the young man being hurled to the ground, a residual shock coiling around his body. The dauphin passed out.
N’Soto gasped, but had enough presence of mind to draw the sidearm the captain had given her. She didn’t see anything or anyone, but her senses told her something was there. Obviously, Jang hadn’t been felled by the air, despite its noxious odor at this sublevel.
She moved forward cautiously, her disruptor pistol held in front of her. She had only taken a few steps before she felt something biting her neck. She slapped at the offending insect only to find something metallic sticking out of her neck. N’Soto pulled it out. “What is this?” she asked herself, turning it over. “It looks like an isolinear tag,” she surmised, slowly catching on. She threw it on the ground and crushed it with her boot.
She moved to Jang’s side. She now saw a tag sticking out of his neck. N’Soto went for it. Before she could pull it out, they were both whisked away.
*****
Ministry of State, Central Ministries Complex Arcology
Alshain Proper
(Three weeks later…)
Coordinating Member Phalin K’Phrey’s hackles rose. The Cardassian graciously bowed. Though dressed in a simple gray tunic and pants that matched his scaly flesh, K’Phrey could tell by the man’s stiff bearing that he was a soldier merely draped in civilian garb.
“I had been hoping to meet the Chairman,” the Cardassian said.
“Chairman T’Riav is busy,” K’Phrey replied. “He sent me in his stead.”
“That was most sagacious of him,” the Cardassian said. “I am glad that he was willing to meet with us at all.”
“Yes,” K’Phrey snorted. “So am I.” He flicked his hand in the direction of the empty seat facing his large, baakonite desk. The Cardassian sat down slowly.
“So, what do you want?” K’Phrey asked.
“Exarch Jedalla procured several experimental interferometric pulse generators from my superior, without providing due compensation.”
“Jedalla no longer rules here,” K’Phrey sneered. Two of his children had died during the Dominion War. He hated the Cardassians almost as much as he loathed the Son’a. “Whatever deals he made with your ‘superior’ were negated when he was deposed.”
“Fair enough,” the Cardassian nodded. “But my superior is not a man of the past. He’s a person of the future. And he believes our people share a mutual future.”
“More like a mutual enemy,” K’Phrey figured.
The Cardassian smiled. “Yes…a mutual enemy. And for that reason alone, my superior has sent me to offer Chairman T’Riav the same deal he gave Jedalla.”
“And what would that deal consist of?”
“Access to your dilithium mining interests in the Monax System in exchange for more of our advanced weapons.”
K’Phrey tried not to laugh in the man’s face and failed. “What kind of fool do you take me for?”
“Our weapons have proved successful against the Federation on several occasions thus far,” the Cardassian replied defensively.
“If they’ve been so successful, why do you need us?” K’Phrey reasoned. “Why not drive the Federation from your homeworld?”
“We don’t have the soldiers or weapons for such an undertaking yet,” the Cardassian replied. “Even the ships we have now are running low on dilithium, and our stored crystals have almost run out.”
“That’s no concern of mine,” K’Phrey snorted. The Cardassian frowned.
“My superior thought you might say that,” He rose out of his chair. “I won’t waste any more of your time. Perhaps the Son’a might be more interested.”
“Son’a,” K’Phrey laughed. “You better hurry on your way then, catch up to them before we do.”
“We won’t forget this,” the Cardassian said.
“I already have,” K’Phrey replied.
THE END
*****
Villa of House Lorath
(Khemet Sector)
Klingon Empire
“Captain Zarkh, son of Yabak, your service to the Empire will not be forgotten,” General Lorath said with a knowing smile. Zarkh curtly nodded, returning a stained, jagged tooth smile.
“See that it doesn’t,” the captain replied before disabling the comlink. Seconds later, several beings were beamed into his private chamber. Lorath allowed them to orient themselves to their new surroundings for a few minutes before he began.
“Lt. Kosta,” he snapped, “Report.” The Kajh science officer began rambling, trying to explain the reasons for Qorb’s failure. But there was no true excuse, and even if there was a legitimate reason, it would do nothing to replace the loss of almost four hundred warriors and one of the best warships in the entire Defense Force.
After he had heard enough from Kosta, he dismissed the man. Lorath would decide later if he would kill the sensor officer. He turned his full attention onto the Exarch and his family. They had been regarding him coldly while he had torn into Kosta. Captain Zarkh had told him that he had retrieved both escape vehicles from the Kajh on the rim of Sector 443. Instead of reporting the incident to his authorities, Zarkh had wisely come to Lorath first.
“Exarch Jedalla, I had hoped we would meet under better circumstances,” Lorath began charitably.
“Minor setbacks, nothing more,” Jedalla said. “All we need to do is gather the scattered forces still loyal to me and strike Alshain Proper now, where the people by now are tearing apart the capital city awaiting my return.”
Lorath shook his head, pursing his lips. “You’ve been stuck in that crate for too long Exarch,” the general said. “Chairman T’Riav has declared martial law, and he has enough support from the military to enforce it for the foreseeable future.”
“Impossible,” Jedalla roared. He futilely looked at his consort and then his children and two-man entourage for support. “That blowhard T’Riav is Chairman now? What happened to C’Oemnm?”
“Murdered,” the general answered. “After he gassed the protestors clamoring for your return, murdered a dissenting Committee member, and possibly flattened a Federation Embassy.”
“Orthlin C’Oemnm was a fool, but he wasn’t unhinged,” Jedalla spat. “I wonder what is really going on behind the veil.”
“I do as well,” Lorath replied. “And I am working to remedy that unfortunate situation as we speak.”
*****
The Warrens
(Undercity)
Alshain Proper
Far beneath the glittering skylines existed another world, one in which survival instinct and barbarity were far more essential to continuing on to the next day than a recreational pursuits for the nobility.
Though Sharrl N’Soto cared little for convention, her Peer upbringing made her revolt at the site of Jang O’Jinn chasing after a grubit like a common, rangy urchin. The dauphin had doffed the expensive clothing of his station and was now dressed in the shabby, rough-hewn fabrics of the untitled. N’Soto wore similar clothing.
They had escaped into the underbelly of the capital city in an attempt to avoid being captured by forces loyal to the Committee. The restoration had sputtered, leaving them no choice but to merge into the muck of the Warrens. N’Soto’s captain’s attempt to buy or bribe passage off world had been stymied by the martial law decree issued by the new Chairman, T’Riav.
So, they had decided to bide their time, waiting for the right opportunity to escape off world and hopefully find Jedalla before the flame of restoration extinguished completely.
The captain had reluctantly allowed Jang to accompany N’Soto on her food hunt. He had spotted the sickly looking grubit darting away from an overflowing garbage receptacle before she had and the young man quickly gave chase, causing an unnecessary ruckus in the process. N’Soto furtively looked around, trying to see if anyone was paying too close attention the Jang. The last thing she wanted to do was have someone alert the authorities or worse.
“Quiet down,” she whispered harshly after Jang crashed into another garbage receptacle as the agile grubit dashed behind it for cover. Jang ran around the side, hoping to block his escape. He growled in anger moments later. “It got away.”
“That’s all right, we’ll find another one,” N’Soto said, “or we’ll find something else to eat.”
“I don’t like to be denied,” Jang snapped. He inhaled deeply, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve got its air scent. Come, it’s just around the corner.” He grabbed her hand briefly to yank her along. After he broke contact, he ran around the corner. N’Soto reached him just in time to see the young man being hurled to the ground, a residual shock coiling around his body. The dauphin passed out.
N’Soto gasped, but had enough presence of mind to draw the sidearm the captain had given her. She didn’t see anything or anyone, but her senses told her something was there. Obviously, Jang hadn’t been felled by the air, despite its noxious odor at this sublevel.
She moved forward cautiously, her disruptor pistol held in front of her. She had only taken a few steps before she felt something biting her neck. She slapped at the offending insect only to find something metallic sticking out of her neck. N’Soto pulled it out. “What is this?” she asked herself, turning it over. “It looks like an isolinear tag,” she surmised, slowly catching on. She threw it on the ground and crushed it with her boot.
She moved to Jang’s side. She now saw a tag sticking out of his neck. N’Soto went for it. Before she could pull it out, they were both whisked away.
*****
Ministry of State, Central Ministries Complex Arcology
Alshain Proper
(Three weeks later…)
Coordinating Member Phalin K’Phrey’s hackles rose. The Cardassian graciously bowed. Though dressed in a simple gray tunic and pants that matched his scaly flesh, K’Phrey could tell by the man’s stiff bearing that he was a soldier merely draped in civilian garb.
“I had been hoping to meet the Chairman,” the Cardassian said.
“Chairman T’Riav is busy,” K’Phrey replied. “He sent me in his stead.”
“That was most sagacious of him,” the Cardassian said. “I am glad that he was willing to meet with us at all.”
“Yes,” K’Phrey snorted. “So am I.” He flicked his hand in the direction of the empty seat facing his large, baakonite desk. The Cardassian sat down slowly.
“So, what do you want?” K’Phrey asked.
“Exarch Jedalla procured several experimental interferometric pulse generators from my superior, without providing due compensation.”
“Jedalla no longer rules here,” K’Phrey sneered. Two of his children had died during the Dominion War. He hated the Cardassians almost as much as he loathed the Son’a. “Whatever deals he made with your ‘superior’ were negated when he was deposed.”
“Fair enough,” the Cardassian nodded. “But my superior is not a man of the past. He’s a person of the future. And he believes our people share a mutual future.”
“More like a mutual enemy,” K’Phrey figured.
The Cardassian smiled. “Yes…a mutual enemy. And for that reason alone, my superior has sent me to offer Chairman T’Riav the same deal he gave Jedalla.”
“And what would that deal consist of?”
“Access to your dilithium mining interests in the Monax System in exchange for more of our advanced weapons.”
K’Phrey tried not to laugh in the man’s face and failed. “What kind of fool do you take me for?”
“Our weapons have proved successful against the Federation on several occasions thus far,” the Cardassian replied defensively.
“If they’ve been so successful, why do you need us?” K’Phrey reasoned. “Why not drive the Federation from your homeworld?”
“We don’t have the soldiers or weapons for such an undertaking yet,” the Cardassian replied. “Even the ships we have now are running low on dilithium, and our stored crystals have almost run out.”
“That’s no concern of mine,” K’Phrey snorted. The Cardassian frowned.
“My superior thought you might say that,” He rose out of his chair. “I won’t waste any more of your time. Perhaps the Son’a might be more interested.”
“Son’a,” K’Phrey laughed. “You better hurry on your way then, catch up to them before we do.”
“We won’t forget this,” the Cardassian said.
“I already have,” K’Phrey replied.
THE END
Re: Part Five: In Interesting Times
Thanks Dnoth. I'm glad you approve of my handling of Aurelia. I wanted to be true to the character, and since it met your approval-you being the Aurelia expert and all
, I'm pleased.
Regarding the Cardassians, that was an allusion to Gibraltar's story "Embers of the Fire" and my story "Under the Shadows of Swords", in which Cardassian militants used advanced tech on Starfleet and Klingon forces. It made sense to me that the militants would attempt to sell or trade some of the tech in exchange for needed materials and supplies, and Jedalla would take them up on their offer.
Thanks Dnoth. I'm glad you approve of my handling of Aurelia. I wanted to be true to the character, and since it met your approval-you being the Aurelia expert and all
, I'm pleased.Regarding the Cardassians, that was an allusion to Gibraltar's story "Embers of the Fire" and my story "Under the Shadows of Swords", in which Cardassian militants used advanced tech on Starfleet and Klingon forces. It made sense to me that the militants would attempt to sell or trade some of the tech in exchange for needed materials and supplies, and Jedalla would take them up on their offer.
Re: Part Five: In Interesting Times
Ok so I admit I wasn't the biggest fan of the earlier space battles but Part Five was terrifically done!
I said it before, I say it again, you are at your best, I think, when you explore these characters and you are equally skilled when you deepen your own characters or add new sides to the ones you have borrowed.
Your focus here was the Alshain and you did a great job at fleshing out this original species and setting up immensely interesting storytelling opportunities.
Your stories are among the finest in integrating the best parts of this shared Trekverse, making it all feel quite seamless and intriguing. Something that Star Eagle has not yet achieved.
I'm certainly looking forward to read more about the growing Alshain conflict in the future.
Very well done!
Ok so I admit I wasn't the biggest fan of the earlier space battles but Part Five was terrifically done!
I said it before, I say it again, you are at your best, I think, when you explore these characters and you are equally skilled when you deepen your own characters or add new sides to the ones you have borrowed.
Your focus here was the Alshain and you did a great job at fleshing out this original species and setting up immensely interesting storytelling opportunities.
Your stories are among the finest in integrating the best parts of this shared Trekverse, making it all feel quite seamless and intriguing. Something that Star Eagle has not yet achieved.
I'm certainly looking forward to read more about the growing Alshain conflict in the future.
Very well done!
Re: Part Five: In Interesting Times
The Alshain have definitely come through as a rich three dimensional race with a unique culture and society. Also, as others have pointed out, the character work in this story is simply outstanding. I really got a good feel for Kojo, Jasmine, Liana, Sintina, and Sandy in this story--as well as Jedalla--he makes an excellent villain. There are so many plots and plots within plots here it's like peeling an onion--you've woven a very fine tapestry here.
Nicely done!
The Alshain have definitely come through as a rich three dimensional race with a unique culture and society. Also, as others have pointed out, the character work in this story is simply outstanding. I really got a good feel for Kojo, Jasmine, Liana, Sintina, and Sandy in this story--as well as Jedalla--he makes an excellent villain. There are so many plots and plots within plots here it's like peeling an onion--you've woven a very fine tapestry here.
Nicely done!
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