Dark Territory: Pandora's Jar

[DarKush]

Cejay,

S31 has been a part of DT even before it was called that, though I think Dnoth uses them to better effect than I do. I just hope that I can add something interesting to them in my stories and build on what Dnoth and others are doing with S31 in the UT. There is always that danger I suppose of overexposure but its just such a cool concept that I can't help but use that.

Dnoth,

I definitely understand about losing long post. If you ever recovered it, I would like to read it. Suffice it to say, I'm glad you're enjoying this story. It's going on and on and I can't seem to stop it, but I'm enjoying it anyway. And now that I've added Brother Benny's USS Monarch and Commander Astar to the mix, it just keeps getting more fun.

********************************************************************
USS Monarch
Main Bridge

Commander Leza Astar was discomfited by the stress lines across the captain’s face, almost as much as he was by his new orders. But Benjamin had been keeping counsel with himself, and despite her subtle attempts to pry the information from him, refuse to explain the reasons why the change in mission parameters. Sutahr M’Broth had been less accepting, but Walker had promised that the clean-up mission would be completed once they returned.

The Trill just wished she knew where exactly there were going. Walker had told the Alshain that Monarch had been ordered back to Federation space, but once out of sensor range he had ordered the helm on a course back into the Inci System.

Captain Walker sat up even more in his seat, and tugged down tightly on his tunic. “Mr. Liyange, has that anti-proton spread picked up anything yet?”

The sepia-hued Operations Officer shook her head. “No sir,” she said, the disappointment heavy in her voice. Arjuna never liked to disappoint, especially the captain. Of all the senior staff, her department was the most efficient, sometimes to the grumbles of her subordinates.

“They’ve got to be out here somewhere,” Walker muttered, “Expand the range of the spread, and mix it up with a tachyon net; one of those should detect that ship.”

“Aye sir,” Liyange said, recommitting herself to finding the cloaked ship. The cloaked vessel was just one more piece of the puzzle that Walker wasn’t sharing with her. Astar frowned. She leaned forward,

“Captain, a moment of your time?”

“What is it Leza?” He griped.

“I need to speak with you in your ready room,” she pressed. He glowered at her a few seconds before snorting.

“All right, but make it quick.”
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USS Monarch
Captain’s Ready Room

Captain Walker’s stomach was twisting in knots. He felt terrible, and his shame was a thick stench that he was surprised that only he seemed to smell, but he was certain that as the mission proceeded, his rot would be detected by others. It was already starting to happen with Commander Astar he was sure. “What’s on your mind Leza?” He grumbled, not meeting her eyes.

He fidgeted with the scarred hockey puck on his desk instead. It had been a gift from his second son Ryan, the star goalie for the Tycho City Comets; he had missed the Galactic Championship, fighting for his life against the Dominion in the Kepla System at the time. He still regretted not being there, despite the circumstances. He had missed so much of his childrens’ lives, but still they respected him, and perhaps more importantly, they understood why he missed so many important moments in their lives. Even his daughter Jamie had followed in his footsteps and had already achieved an executive officer’s posting aboard the Horus.

What would they or his other children think of him, if they found out about his affair with Sofia? His imagination had already hounded him with the look of abject betrayal and despair he knew his wife Emmanuelle would have for him. How could he have been so stupid?

He had lost a lot of people during the war, a lot of friends, and so had Sofia, and that mutual loneliness and sorrow had brought them together in a night of passion that Benjamin had allowed to become recurring. How could he have known that he was merely a pawn in Sofia’s game? That she had been setting him up, looking for a weak point, a screw that she could twist so that she could turn him into a Section 31 stooge?

It galled him more to know that Section 31 had actually realized he was a person weak enough to be manipulated in such a fashion. And they had him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Emmanuelle had left the Fleet long before the Dominion War began, but she had lost family and friends as well, civilian and in the service. The one time Walker had been able to return home was to bury his namesake, Benjamin Jr., an orbital architect lost when the Dominion invaded Betazoid. The agony of that lost still was raw for both of them.

His family was barely hanging together as it was. He had to do everything to keep them from falling apart, even if it meant helping out this Section 31. From Sofia and the admiral’s spiel Benjamin couldn’t necessarily disagree with their motives or their actions. If what they said was true and they had developed a biogenic weapon against the Founders that was thwarted at the last second, he shook his head at the stupidity of the forces opposed to them. Unleashing that weapon might’ve saved hundreds of thousands, millions, of lives.

It would be almost as bad as having a method to stop the Borg and pulling your punches. And Benjamin wasn’t so naïve that he didn’t realize that a lot of dirty deeds were done to keep the Federation looking pristine. Despite the coating of bile in the back of his throat at being knuckled into their employ, he had almost came to terms with his decision.
“Captain?” Astar’s question brought him out of his dark reverie.

“Uh…yes, yes Commander?” He recovered quickly. “What did you want to discuss?” The Trill cocked her head at him, both eyebrows raising as if it were obvious.

As-if, Walker thought with a hint of a grin. These days, he had to find humor where he could. “It’s about our new orders?”

“Yes sir,” Astar began.

“That’s classified,” Walker interrupted. “I thought I made that plain during the briefing?”

“But sir,” Astar started again. “I’m the first officer. I think I should be privy to what this mission is about, in the unlikely event….”

“I’m sure that concern for my safety is what is prompting this line of inquiry,” Walker retorted, and Astar took a step back. Even Walker winced at the cheap shot. “I’m sorry Leza…I’ve got a lot on my mind lately.”

“Sir, I’ve always provided an ear…and a shoulder,” she added, and Benjamin knew that was true. Astar was a tough one, but she had the right kind of sensitivity and empathy for command. She would make one hell of a captain one day, and Walker resolved to keep her hands as clean as possible and away from this Section 31 business.

“I’m sorry Leza, but my orders were clear. If something unfortunate should happen to me,” he paused, a pained look on his face, “control of the mission will fall to Commander Petrov.”

“What?” Astar’s concern was riven by confusion and anger. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s not your place to understand,” Walker remarked gently. “Ours is not to reason why…” he began, remembering the old Tennyson poem that used to fill him with such patriotic fervor as a child.

“Not this time,” the Trill cut him off. “If this crew is to ‘do and die’, I want to know why, and I demand to know why I have been removed from the chain of command? Have I been demoted?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Walker replied hastily. He knew Leza wasn’t going to take this well, but who would? “For this mission, it was decided that Petrov’s expertise would serve to help make this a success.”

Astar shook her head, still disbelieving. “I’m sorry sir. But I must protest. And if need be I will make it official.”

“Do what you feel is necessary,” Walker said. If Section 31 had the reach that he believed they did, her protest would go nowhere. But hopefully it wouldn’t leave a black mark on her record. “And really this is not a reflection on you…this was not my decision.”

“Then who’s was it?”

“I…uh…” When the intercom came on, Walker almost sighed with relief.

“Captain, Liyange here.”

Walker cleared his throat. “Go ahead.”

“Sensors have just detected anomalous readings consistent with a cloaked vessel.” Walker shifted his jaw, a hard set coming over his face. Visala had informed them that a Romulan warbird was prowling near the border of the Inci System and that it had destroyed one of their vessels. His mission was to take that ship out and render assistance to the USS Baltimore, another ship with one of their operatives aboard.

He glanced up at Astar, “We’ll table this for later,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

“Yes we will,” Astar said with such fierceness that it made Walker want to flinch.
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[DarKush]

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USS Baltimore
Main Bridge

“Captain Glover,” Volok’s voice was cheery. Now that they had lost the main viewscreen, the Romulan could only reach them via audio. “Now, do you care to surrender?”

“You already know the answer to that question,” Terrence replied, trying to ignore the life flashing before his eyes.

“So, you would rather sacrifice the hundreds that remain alive aboard your vessel as a matter of foolish pride than to allow them a chance at life; even life as a prisoner is preferable to death, surely,” Volok made the offer sound almost like a humanitarian plea. The captain wanted to vomit.

“I don’t surrender…ever,” Glover replied.

“And you speak for your crew?”

Terrence paused. If this was the Cuffe or even the Aegis he felt confident that he knew those men and women well enough to answer in the affirmative. But he couldn’t say the same about the Baltimore. He was an accidental CO for this crew and he hadn’t earned that right to speak on their behalf on such a matter in his opinion. He glanced at Baird and then Basri, both the most senior officers still living among the crew. Their gazes were as steely as Terrence’s conviction. He turned back around, a renewed fire in his gut. “I do.”

“A pity,” Volok sniffed. “But I can’t let a prize like you go Terrence. Your crew means nothing.”

“Package deal asshole,” Baird grumbled.

“So be it,” Volok said. “Once I’ve disabled your shields, Captain Glover you’re mine and Erebus can have your crew, but take heart, after I’m done with you, I promise you will join them.”

“Big words, let’s see you back them up,” Glover ran a hand over his throat, and Basri cut communications.

“What do we do now sir?”

“Evasive maneuvers,” Glover ordered. He then checked with Lt. Doriss. He grinned. The tanks were in place. “That’s it, you bastard,” Glover watched through the void as the Gladius slowly matched his vessel. He parked his ship in front of the barely inoperative D’talla class vessel. Gladius moved in front of it. “Damn,” Glover remarked. “I had hoped to get them both.”

“Captain, what’s the plan?” Basri asked.

“Transfer all power, including life support, to whatever forward phaser arrays that are still operational.” Glover ordered, ignoring Basri’s question.

“Aye sir,” the woman said, without a hint of consternation. “But sir, what is this…”

“Mr. Baird, fire a narrow gauge spread from wing-to-wing of the Gladius,” Terrence said. He watched as the barrage pelted against the shields of the warbird. The shield protecting the warship lit up space, and even penetrating in a few spots, but nothing vital was hit. Baird cursed softly.

Volok came back on line, “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“What’s there shield strength?” Glover ignored the crowing Romulan.

“Sixty-five percent,” Basri said.

“Good enough,” he remarked before tapping his compin. “Transporter rooms, mark!” Space lit up again as the transporter rooms beamed the trilithium resin containers within the Gladius’s tattered shields. Glover had ordered the transporter crews to be ready to beam the cargo into the Romulan’s front weapons banks. His old friend Ben Sisko had once told him about the tactic that he had devised to stop a Breen marauder at Guldammur IV. Clogging up the weapons’ ports had prevented the Breen from firing.

But Glover had an even deadlier trick up his sleeve. “Transporter rooms, teleport the casings.” The beams sparkled again, removing the containers and allowing the corrosive resin to eat through the hull of warbird. Within seconds an infernal light filled the weapon’s banks. The combustible resin had made contact with the ordnance.

“Impossible,” Volok’s troubled voice came over the intercom before the link was severed abruptly.

“No, very possible,” Glover gloated as the crew cheered. “Mr. Baird, whatever we got left, I want you to aim it all at Gladius.”
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IRW Gladius
Command Deck

“How is this possible?” Commander Volok wailed, grabbing Centurion Aurel painfully by the shoulders. “How could he do this to me? How could the gods?”

“Sir,” the centurion said firmly as she peeled back his fingers. “The ship is lost.” Another deep rumble punctuated her assessment. “Once the resin makes contact with our stock of photon torpedoes, this ship will be destroyed. There’s no way to get cleanup detachments to all of the affected areas to prevent it.”

“No, no, I won’t allow another Glover to deny me my glory, to keep me from what is mine,” Volok declared. He turned from her and slammed his hand down on his armrest communicator.

“Chieftain Crixus, deploy the weapon now! Target the Baltimore. Kill everyone!”

“But sir,” Crixus replied. “Your ship is in the line of fire.”

“Do it, do it now!” He roared.

“I will begin the activation. It will take two minutes,” the Reman replied. Volok looked around wildly, Crixus already forgotten.

“Where are the Scorpions, we must keep them at bay, until then,” Volok said.

“We’ve got bigger problems than that,” Aurel replied. She pointed at the main screen. Improbably, the Baltimore was chugging toward them, its remaining weapons blazing. And Volok swore he could feel the eyes of Glover bearing down on him from its shattered bridge.

“Sir, we must evacuate,” Aurel suggested. The commander resumed his seat.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he declared. “I’ve come too far, given up so much. If I die with honor here and now, how could I not wake up with Turi in Vorta Vor?”

“I’m sorry, but our cause has continuing need for you yet sir,” Aurel declared. Volok looked up to demand what she meant, and only caught a glimpse of the disruptor butt slashing down toward him.
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[Dnoth]

It's interesting to see 31's moves immediately after the war and Astar before she was promoted.

 

[DarKush]

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USS Monarch
Main Bridge

“Mr. Torkill, fire on my mark,” Captain Walker commanded. Commander Astar, sitting uncomfortably beside him, patted her stomach. Her symbiont writhed, expressing several lifetimes’ worth of displeasure.

“Aye sir,” the Kobheerian’s voice sounded like a rockslide.

Astar leaned close to her CO and said, sotto voce, “Don’t you think we should at least attempt to get them to stand down first?”

Captain Walker turned to her, opened his mouth, grimaced, and then turned away again.

“Mr. Torkill?”

“Yes sir.”

“Mark.”

Leza reigned in her frustration as she watched the phaser fire root out the cloaked vessel, splashing harmlessly against its shields.

“That got their attention I bet,” Ensign Jonda, at flight control, couldn’t keep to herself. Astar frowned at the overeager violet haired Catullan.

“Ship decloaking,” Lt. Commander Liyange informed them. “It’s a Romulan warship, Griffin-class.” The warship was smaller than a warbird, but possessed a similar beaked prow jutting from its fixed-wing primary hull. From intelligence reports, Astar remembered that the Griffins usually supported the larger and more powerful D’deridex class. Hopefully this one was out here alone.

“Romulan ship is hailing us,” Liyange replied seconds later. Walker sat impassive, weighing his next move.

“Shouldn’t we respond to their hail?” Astar prodded quietly. The captain’s shoulders bunched up with tension, before he finally replied tightly:

“Liyange, put them onscreen.”

“What is the meaning of this outrage?” The Romulan female wore a Subcommander’s ranking on her black turtleneck collar. “You have fired without cause on an Imperial vessel! You’ve just committed an act of war!”

“No, what I just did was expose an illegal Romulan incursion in Alshain space,” Walker said. “What are you doing here? The Star Empire does not have an open transit policy with the Exarchate.”

“How did you detect our cloak?” The woman asked instead. “Who are you?”

“Romulan vessel is powering weapons,” Torkill said as quietly as he could. Astar motioned off camera for him to do the same.

“Perhaps I should escort you to the closet port of call,” Walker paused, though Leza knew it was just for effect, “that would be the Inci Shipyards correct? Ever been there before?”

“Romulan ship is firing,” the Kobheerian replied. The ship trembled slightly.

“Red alert,” Astar called. The lighting turned red and klaxons filled the air.

“Let them have it Mr. Torkill,” Walker replied. The Galaxy-class Monarch boasted a far heavier complement of weapons and many of them were unleashed on the Griffin. Astar knew the model possessed relatively strong shields for a vessel its size and that it could survive the first few engagements, if its commander was insane enough to attempt to slug it out with them. Fortunately for the Griffin’s crew, she was not. The warship turned and warped into the system.

“Jonda, give chase,” Walker ordered.
*******************************************************************

IRW Cuirass
Command Deck

“Shut down the weapon,” Chieftain Crixus came quickly to his decision.

“But milord, the Romulan gave us a direct order,” Sheshma couldn’t even speak Volok’s name. He hated most Romulans as a rule, but particularly those that first pretended to understand the Remans’ plight until a need arose to show their true colors. Volok was perfectly willing for them to destroy themselves, but not his own kind.

“Look out there,” Crixus jabbed a gnarled finger at the screen as if he were brandishing a sword. “The Romulans are abandoning their vessel in droves.” Escape pods were ejecting from the fracturing ship at a furious pace. “They are perfectly willing to sacrifice us, but not so willing to die with us. It is as Vkruk and his human often declare. There can be no true peace between our peoples; one must be under the whip, us or them.”

“Then what are we to do?” Sheshma asked, his expression rife with confusion.

“Isn’t the answer obvious,” Crixus remarked. “It is as if Tenakruvek himself has given us a new lease on life. The Federation, we will surrender to them, seek asylum, and with this weapon at our disposal, how can they refuse?”
********************************************************************

 

[DarKush]

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USS Baltimore
Main Bridge

“Sensors were detecting a polaric ion signature from the D’talla-class warbird a second ago, now it’s gone,” Basri replied, her eyes scouring her terminal.

“We’ve got more pressing concerns at the moment,” Lelex pointed out. “Sir, we’ve got to move or we’re going to get caught in the shockwave of the Gladius’s destruction.”

“Lt. Basri, redirect all power, everything, to ship’s engines. I want us as close to full impulse as you can get us,” Glover demanded.

“Do my best sir,” she said. The captain then contacted Engineering and told them what he wanted as well. Seconds later Lelex started inching the ship back from the Romulan vessel. Explosions were now moving through the ship from bow to stern. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the vessel’s singularity warp drive.

“Captain, the squadron’s reporting that the Romulan escape pods are ejecting from the ship. Requesting instructions on targeting them sir,” Baird asked. The Scorpions had broken off fighting and were buzzing around the smoldering Gladius, seeking to assist their compatriots. The Valkyries were hanging in space, awaiting orders. Only eleven of the original forty remained.

“That’s a negative,” Glover said after a fraction of thought. He pushed back his bloodthirstiness, a memory of the charred world of Loval stanching his desire for revenge. What he had done to Gladius was more a matter of survival than exacting vengeance, or so he told himself. He wouldn’t weigh down his soul with the wanton murder of the defenseless. “I want those fighters pulled back into our shuttle bays, stack them on top of each other if there isn’t room. And spend a message to those escape pods. We’ll offer assistance to anyone that wants it.”

“Aye captain,” Basri remarked.

“No response so far from the escape pods, but the D’talla-class is hailing us,” Basri said.

“Let’s hear what they have to say,” Glover remarked.

“Starfleet vessel I am Chieftain Crixus of Remus,” the gravelly voice intoned. Glover raised an eyebrow in shock. The slave caste Remans were a rare site away from their homeworld. And for one to be in charge of a starship, a warbird at that, was something that had to be rarer still.

“Greetings Chieftain Crixus, I am Captain Terrence Glover,” he began. “I am sure you are aware that the warbird between us is minutes, maybe seconds even, away from exploding. We know that your vessel incurred significant damage during the battle…”

“As a result of your actions,” the Reman pointed out, but Terrence noted a glimmer of respect in the statement, more than hostility.

“Be that as it may, we would like to extend the offer of assistance to you,” Glover pressed on.

“Our scans of your vessel reveal that your vessel is in worse shape; it is us who should be offering assistance,” Crixus replied.

“We will take any that you can provide,” Glover replied, forcing back his pride. He watched as the D’talla glided over the benighted Gladius and came to rest beside the Baltimore.

“We will extend our shielding around yours,” Crixus declared.

“My God, he’s really doing it,” Baird marveled. The ship jerked as tractor beams latched onto its side.

“What are you doing?” Glover asked suspiciously.

“Despite your valiant efforts, we are moving you away from the blast radius,” Crixus said. Terrence glanced at Basri to confirm that. Seconds later, the olive-skinned woman nodded.

“All right,” Glover said slowly, “proceed.” Terrence didn’t like the idea of being towed, particularly by subjects of the Romulan Empire. The Remans had a vicious reputation and it was conceivable that after they were finished saving the Baltimore, they might attempt to board it; and Glover wasn’t sure if he had the manpower to resist them.

He glanced up at Baird, and motioned for the man to head to the weapon’s locker nestled in an aft alcove. He also ordered Basri to inform the crew to arm themselves. He felt a little better when Baird placed the cool metal of a phaser into his hand. He also passed him a holster and the captain attached it to his leg while the ship moved slowly in time with the D’talla.

Many of the Romulan escape pods were apparently equipped with warp drives that the Romulans activated seconds before Gladius exploded. Glover’s breath caught in his throat as the ship bent in on itself, the trilithium resin finally unleashing the mini black hole that powered the Gladius’s engines. Terrence could only imagine the tortured scream of metal as the ship was consumed from within. But then suddenly, with a blinding flash, the singularity ejected the remains of the ship in a wide arc. Glover covered his eyes, with painful white spots piercing his closed eyelids. The shockwave crashed against Baltimore with such force that it made Terrence’s teeth rattle. A few consoles sparked and he heard the sick thud of a hurled body and the agonizing crunch of broken bones. But that ended relatively quickly as well.

When it was over, he stood up and took stock of his crew. Baird was hopping, and using the guard rail over the command well for support. Basri was crawling back to her seat. Lelex came to her aid, helping the shaken woman to her feet.

Glover went to check on the thud, and found another dead crewman. A young Grazerite with head painfully askew from her neck. He reached down and closed the woman’s eyelids. He prayed that this would be the last death on his watch.

“Mr. Baird, contact the Remans,” he quietly ordered.

“Aye.”

“Captain Glover I hope that you bore the demise of the Gladius well.” Terrence glanced down at the young woman, a crewman who he hadn’t even gotten the chance to learn her name. But other familiar names, and faces, flashed through his mind: Nyota Dryer. Dhalamanisha zh’Shakobheto. Pedro Rojas.

“Captain Glover?” Crixus asked, his voice clouded with concern.

“Captain?” Basri asked, now approaching him. She had almost reached him, when he shook his head, warding off the ghosts.

“Yes,” he muttered, before saying louder, “We bore it well enough.” Unsatisfied, he had to add, “Some of us did at least.”

“My condolences,” Crixus replied solemnly.

“I could extend the same for you and your honored dead,” Glover remarked.

“I thank you,” Crixus said.

“And how might I thank you,” Terrence replied. He stood up and tugged on the front of his uniform. He had to get his head back into the game.

Crixus didn’t waste time. “With a request for asylum.”
*****************************************************************

 

[BrotherBenny]

Let's hope that our people can get everything squared away before anything else goes wrong.

I like how you're using Astar, and you just helped me make something that I couldn't before. Emmanuelle thanks you.

 

[DarKush]

Let's hope that our people can get everything squared away before anything else goes wrong.

I like how you're using Astar, and you just helped me make something that I couldn't before. Emmanuelle thanks you.

Sorry, but its a good bet that more will go wrong before it goes right. I'm glad you're liking my usage of Astar. I'm trying to be real cautious about that. Does the symbiont have any past hosts who were in Starfleet or had military experience? Or any experience with the Romulans?

As for Emmanuelle, thank actress Emmanuelle Vaugier for that. After seeing her on Human Target a couple weeks back, it brought back an old crush. I had original intended to name Ben's wife Pamela. But then I thought that Ben wouldn't complain about having a beautiful French Canadian spouse.

 

[BrotherBenny]

Let's hope that our people can get everything squared away before anything else goes wrong.

I like how you're using Astar, and you just helped me make something that I couldn't before. Emmanuelle thanks you.

Sorry, but its a good bet that more will go wrong before it goes right. I'm glad you're liking my usage of Astar. I'm trying to be real cautious about that. Does the symbiont have any past hosts who were in Starfleet or had military experience? Or any experience with the Romulans?

As for Emmanuelle, thank actress Emmanuelle Vaugier for that. After seeing her on Human Target a couple weeks back, it brought back an old crush. I had original intended to name Ben's wife Pamela. But then I thought that Ben wouldn't complain about having a beautiful French Canadian spouse.

None of Astar's previous 4 (I think) hosts have been in Starfleet (that I can recall) but one probably had dealings with the Romulans. As for Emmanuelle, nice!!!

 

[CeJay]

Remans asking Starfleet for asylum? Now where have I heard that before?

Things are taking an interesting twist here, especially with the introduction of the Monarch and her compromised commanding officer. Something tells me he won't play nice with Terrence. Astar is the wild card.

Fascinating stuff.

 

[DarKush]

BB,

Thanks for letting me know the number of Astar's hosts, and the info about them. I don't want to miscount.

Cejay,

Where have you heard about Reman aslyum before? I hope I haven't taken something from one of the UT stories I haven't got around to reading yet. I remember a scene from Articles of the Federation where a group of Remans asked for aslyum and I think the Remans might have done something similar with the Klingons in the Titan novels.

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USS Aegis
Auxiliary Bridge
Secondary Hull

The blackness pushed against his oracular implants, the union of flesh and machine obscene to it. Lt. Commander Seb N’Saba plucked the blue orbs out of his eye sockets, no longer requiring them for sight. He dropped them on the floor, hearing them roll off into oblivion.

“We must secure the Locus,” Lt. Tai Donar was beside him. He felt the man’s presence, just like he felt the presence of all that had been united, in his mind. And Seb knew that Tai also struggled with the bonding. Something in their natures, something abhorrent, was keeping them from fully embracing Unity. And for that they were not being allowed to join the others in the blessed dark…just yet. They had been given a mission. To retrieve the Locus from its prison in the Pyxis Cluster so that they could replant it in fertile soil and bring others into the embrace of Unity.

As soon as they had slid between the shattered negasphere shield, N’Saba had sent a team via shuttle down to the planet to dissect the Locus from its moorings and transport it back to the ship. Just being near it was rapturous, though it couldn’t compare to what Ivan and the others must be experiencing. They were there…with Them.

An unwelcome spike of jealousy cut through his bond, and N’Saba tried to push it down, desperate to return to the unison.

“You are troubled,” Donar remarked, still beside him. N’Saba nodded; he couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. He was just as open to the Angosian as the super-soldier was to him.

Deep below them he felt the shuttle bay doors open and then the gentle clang of the small craft landing. He didn’t have to order the retrieval team to take the Locus to Sickbay and prepare a nutrient bath for it. They already knew. Now all that he wanted for was the command from the seed…or maybe from Them, for which planet to bless.

N’Saba didn’t have to wait long. He staggered as strong black fingers seized his mind, poking through the thin gauze of his pride and envy. “The Inci System,” They told him. It was Them! Them! “A great source of power is there, a power that can free us, a power that can bring Us to you, to all.”

The command, Their touch, made N’Saba tremble with delight. Before his anointing he had been skeptical of the Alshain deities, now he realized how wrong he had been to doubt the existence of higher beings, divine entities. They existed, and They had chosen him. He was their herald. And he would not fail them. He raised a finger, but the Aegis had already gotten underway for the Inci System.
********************************************************************

 

[BrotherBenny]

All roads lead to the Inci system.

Interesting.

 

[Dnoth]

I will be interesting to see what the Remans' role in this will be.

 

[DarKush]

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PART SEVEN:
COMING OUT OF THE DARK


Starfleet Headquarters

Admiral Glover couldn’t leave well enough alone. He knew he should’ve just followed T’Prell’s advice and allowed this Section 31 to pull Terrence out of the mess they had put him in, but he just couldn’t. Gazing at the holo-picture of his late wife, and her fiery, unyielding countenance, how could he ever look upon Dietra’s likeness again, if he didn’t do all that he could, risk everything, even his life for their only child?

Captain Shelby unfortunately was still taking heat on his behalf for the attempted border crossing and he had no more desire to have her stretch her neck out for him. Captain Donners was on long term assignment in the Beta Quadrant, and he knew that Amaya and her crew really needed the respite. Agamemnon had seen horrific action during the war. Awokou and Kojo were also similarly indisposed.

After running through the short list of friends and associates that he had that also commanded starships, he arrived at the only viable option available. He opened a line.

“Admiral Samson Glover, I can’t believe it,” The Tellarite rubbed his smallish eyes and leaned forward, squinting for effect.

“It’s been a long time Captain Gorik,” Samson replied. Terrence’s first assignment out of the Academy had been aboard Gorik’s ship the Kitty Hawk. The Tellarite had retired years ago, but had returned to serve in the Border Service during the breakout of the Dominion War.

“What do I owe the honor for this call,” Gorik’s sarcasm was palpable. Samson held his temper in check. Somewhat under duress Terrence had played a role in Gorik’s removal from the center seat, due to questionable actions involving the Alshain almost two decades ago. The details of which were still murky to him. Terrence had asked the admiral to intercede on the Tellarite’s behalf and Samson had used some of his chits that would allow Gorik to bypass the stockade for a nice retirement with a relatively clean record.

That expunging had made it possible for Gorik to get a posting in the Border Service, though the politics surrounding his resignation had prevented him from returning to active duty in the exploration division of the Fleet. Samson knew that Gorik would have an axe to grind and was definitely not the most ideal person to call on, but he had nowhere to turn.

“Captain…Gorik,” Samson leaned forward, a determined cast to his face, “I won’t mince words or fake niceties with you. I need assistance, Terrence needs help, and you’re the only one that I can call on to provide it.”

“What makes you think I want to help you?” Gorik snorted, and then added icily, “Sir.”

“I could order you to do it,” Samson replied, “But I’m not going to that…not unless I have to. I know that things ended on a sour note with Terrence and other members of your crew. But they were only following regulations. They were duty bound to report their actions, and yours.”

“Don’t you think I know that,” Gorik’s voice had become dangerously quiet, “But what I would’ve liked was a little consideration, a little understanding of how difficult command decisions can be. You’ve never sat in that center seat sir aboard a starship, and at that time Terrence hadn’t either. But he has now, and I wonder if he would’ve made the same decision he did all those years ago. Looking at what he did to Loval, I doubt it.”

Samson launched backwards as if Gorik had reached across subspace and through the desktop monitor screen to slug him. To open a clear pathway to Cardassia Prime as a run-up to the decisive battle in the war, Terrence had destroyed a powerful pulse cannon on the Cardassian planet Loval, and unfortunately he had had to destroy the entire planet to take out the weapon. Though Terrence had said little about it since the war had ended, Samson could see the haunted look in his son’s eyes, the hesitation, the doubt in his movements and thinking that had never been there before. He knew his son was plagued with guilt, he knew his son had been hollowed out as surely as his weapon’s array had hollowed out the core of that world. Samson had lost his son, and he had been denying that for so long that he almost believed it. Until bastards like Gorik brought back Loval.

“That was completely uncalled for Captain,” Samson replied, anger and disgust nearly choking him. “If it wasn’t for Terrence practically begging me to come to your aid, you would probably still be in a stockade.”

“So, I have you to thank for my excommunication,” Gorik shrugged his massive shoulders.

“Are you going to help or not,” Samson snapped.

Gorik’s grin broadened. “Your un-human bluntness is refreshing,” he replied, the corners of his mouth upturning. He shook his wooly head in contemplation a few seconds. “Yes, you won’t have to order me. As a matter of fact it would be good seeing Mr. Glover again.”
********************************************************************

 

[DarKush]

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

Dark Realm

Aquiel Uhnari held fast to the slivers of her personality left. The darkness was all around, suffusing her every pore; she was even inhaling and exhaling it. It felt comforting and warm at turns, then frigid and so empty. She had once had Ivan’s strength to draw of, but the darkness had produced a gulf between them and she was alone, forsaken in a way she had never been before…not even after the death of her parents.

Your parents, the darkness spoke, tell us about them. She shook her head strongly.

“No.”

Your parents, the gloom insisted. Were they not…murdered? Aquiel shook her head again, but the darkness was not so easily mollified. It began reaching for her, and she balled up in a fetal position, trying to defend herself as best she could.

Tell us, the abyss demanded. Tell us and we can set up free.

“No,” Aquiel said, even though there was a part of her that wanted to be free, that wanted to be clean, to be rid of her fear, of her nightmares, of the shame. But if she let herself go now, she would be leaving behind her sister Shianna, and she had promised to always be there for her. Shianna had been her rock, and Aquiel would never leave her, not even for the peace of the pit. Spidery fingers touched at her mind, but Aquiel bit down on her lip and imagined a tritanium curtain falling down around her memories. The fingers fell back, and her body was lashed with pain. Tell us, the voice grew louder, and the black grip begun squeezing her so hard that she could hardly breathe.

With her last ounce of breath, or maybe it was all in her mind, she screamed “Ivan!” before the dark blanketed her.
********************************************************************
Dark Realm

Ivan wanted them to take it all: the pain, the deceptions, the fear, the grime of his life. The dark feasted on it, and replaced it with the first true sense of serenity, of belonging he had ever known. All his life he had tried to fit in, had tried to contort himself to be part of something larger than himself. As a child, he had tried to please his father and brother by working with them in the Orion Syndicate, and then he had tried to find a new family among the Marines, Special Teams, and the Fleet’s exploration branch, but none of the attempts had been really successful.

There was something in him, something vile that would always emerge, that would always ruin his life. His father Vasily had often told him that he was no good like his net-girl mother Natalia, that he was corrupt just like his father. Ivan had spent a good chunk of his life fighting those words, and despite the surface appearance, he had never been able to escape their fundamental truth. He was cold, dark, and angry. He felt nothing for his enemies, and almost nothing for those he considered friends or allies. Sometimes he wanted to watch the galaxy burn, and that both shamed and excited him.

It was only his friendship with Tai, his loyalty to Captain Glover who gave him a chance when no one else did, and this recent stirring in his heart for Commander Uhnari that keep the beast at bay. But the darkness wanted him to unleash the beast, they wanted to devour that monster, that snapping dragon inside him, and replace it with clean, pure, total blackness. A great numbness that he could only imagine, but could never figure out a way to achieve. They were going to take him to a place where he could feel nothing, no pain, no disappointment, no sorrow, no guilt, or regret. There was just one problem…

“Aquiel,” he breathed, and the dark caress stopped. “Aquiel,” he reached out, searching for her hand. He didn’t feel it. He could barely feel her. Her agony, her fear had pierced the darkness, blinding him with its white hotness.

“Where is she?” He demanded.

He resists, a voice spoke around him, but not to him.

Just like her, another voice, this one distinctly female replied.

How is that possible, a third, deeper voice observed. He is not like Uhnari, Cole, or the mind speakers.

Uhnari? Ivan grasped, her name puncturing his confusion. “Aquiel,” he called. “Aquiel, what have you done with her?”

He is not a mind speaker, a mirthful voice spoke this time. He is something worse. A being in love.

Love? The female asked. What is that?

An inferior attempt at Unity, the basso voice replied again. It is incomplete, often messy, and is not as lasting, or fulfilling as the unison we offer.

“Who are you?” Ivan demanded. “And where is Aquiel?”

See, he thinks of her well being, before he thinks of his own, the merry man spoke again. The selflessness would be admirable if it wasn’t so wired to selfish ends, the desire to procreate, to possess, to dominate.

“Don’t talk about me,” Ivan could feel his rage bubbling like a cauldron. “Talk to me!”

Are you certain these are mature enough for what we can provide them? The female asked again, still ignoring him.

They have to be, Basso replied. We don’t have much of a choice in the matter regardless.

We must spread Unity, we must save creation from itself, the merry man had lost much of his mirth.

Ivan began twisting and punching in the darkness, his frustration getting the best of him. He wished he could grab something and wring the answers from it.

Perhaps we can yet make him see reason, the first voice entered the conversation again. Instantly Ivan was arrested in mid-punch. He blinked and tried to cover his eyes as the perfect darkness receding into a blinding gray. He was released from the grip and he rushed to cover his eyes.

“You can remove your hands now.” It was the first speaker. Ivan didn’t do as the man asked at first. He used his other senses to get some idea of his surroundings. He heard the familiar whirring of shipboard computers and he smelled the mild, yet acrid tang of burned circuits. He was on a starship bridge, he knew without opening his eyes. And he was pretty certain he was on the bridge of the Aegis. Thankfully he didn’t smell the stench of death.

“It is all right human,” the voice prodded. “Please lower your hands.” Ivan complied reluctantly. He gasped at the sight looming before him.

The giant gazed down at him, regarding him from a cyclopic eye. He stuck out a misshapen hooked appendage which Ivan took for a hand. “From our studies of your kind, is this not an appropriate greeting?” The appendage changed to a rougher approximation of a human hand. Ivan didn’t respond. He was too busy gazing at the creature before him. Its singular eye dominated its oblong head, and though it was clearly speaking, Ivan didn’t see a mouth, or nose or ears for that matter. It was bioluminescent, with its black form being lit from within by a swirl of muted blue and green light. The creature’s one eye shone the mostly brightly on its countenance. The alien’s form was shifting constantly as if it couldn’t hold itself together. The creature changed again, drawing down in size until it stood eye level with Ivan. The creature’s head morphed until it roughly resembled a human being, though its face remained dominated by one eye. “I am Heol,” the creature said.

“Ivan,” Cherenkov responded, his mouth dry and his throat raw. It felt like he hadn’t talked in a long time. He shifted his jaw.

“Are you well Ivan?” Heol asked.

“Where am I? And who are you?”

“I am Heol,” the creature charitably repeated.

“No,” Ivan shook his head, “What are you? What is your species?” Heol cocked his head, studying Ivan as if he was the strange one. And the Russian guessed to Heol, he was strange.

“We are…” Heol paused, struggling for the right words. “We are….nothing.”

“I don’t understand,” Ivan said. “You are clearly something.”

Heol shook his head. “No. We are everything.”

“How can you be everything and nothing?” Ivan asked, unable to take the challenging tone from his voice. If he had been more of an explorer he might’ve been able to tamp down his frustration with curiosity. But he was a soldier and he had to find out how much of a threat Heol and his kind presented to himself and his crew. Aegis…He glanced around and saw that the bridge was empty. “What happened to my crew?”

“They are in the embrace of Unity,” Heol was cheerful, “though some are not adjusting well to the bonding. We wished to know why.”

“So, you decided to speak to me?” Ivan asked.

Heol nodded tentatively, “Yes.”

“Is this your real form?” Ivan prodded.

“We have no form,” Heol said. “We are everything…”

“And nothing,” Ivan said, exasperated.

“Correct,” Heol nodded. “You now comprehend?”

“No,” Ivan shook his head. “Before, when you were speaking with the others…you mentioned mind speakers. What did you mean by that?”

Heol stood silently in front of him, tilting his head in the other direction. Ivan began to grow concerned. He asked again.

“Enough questions,” a voice whispered beside him. The female. He heard and then felt a soft wind on his cheek. And then there was a presence behind him. Ivan turned slowly, but the alien twisted their body to face him. One half remained behind him still. The shape of its face was more delicate. It also sported one eye. “You will come with us. Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ivan said, planting his feet. He marshaled his strength, preparing to defend himself, even though he had no clue how to fight these aliens.

“It was not a request,” the female said. Before Ivan could react, her hand lashed out, and painfully pried apart his lips. The hand entered his mouth. He staggered backward, gagging before the rest of her twisting form followed.
********************************************************************

 

[DarKush]

********************************************************************
USS Monarch
Main Engineering

“Take over from here Mr. Hiroko,” Commander Sofia Petrov said. The middle-aged assistant chief engineer looked at her askance.

“Sofia, you don’t want to stick around to hear this?” Just like everyone else, Jim was riveted by the tense situation on the bridge that was being piped all over the ship via intercom. Captain Walker was facing off with the master of the Romulan vessel. She knew Benjamin had it in him to chase down that Griffin-class starship and force it to fight. But alas she didn’t know if he had it in him to tie up the very loose string that ship might provide the section’s enemies. He was new to the organization after all.

“I’ve got some things to do in my office. You make sure everyone stays ready at their posts to keep giving one-hundred percent.”

Hiroko grinned. “Well do,” he said, giving off a snappy, old-Earth style military salute. Petrov smiled back. She was going to miss Jim; everyone really. She had really made a lot of friends here, and had started a new life. For a period of time she had almost convinced herself that she could be happy here, and had even found a lover.

But he was dead, and she had used her own latent feelings for Captain Walker to manipulate him. There was no place for her on Monarch now. From now on, Ben wouldn’t think on their times with a mixture of regret and fondness, now anger and disgust would be doled on top of the shame.

She rushed to her office and closed the door. She locked it, and headed to her desk. She activated her desktop computer. Petrov tapped into the sensor link that gave her the same view as Walker was gazing from the bridge. Nodding her head, she accessed the main frame via the secret code she had long established in the central computer. She hacked into the authorization for several quantum torpedoes and she bided her time.
********************************************************************

 

[CeJay]

It looks as if we're finally going to learn about the origins of Unity. It be interesting to see how Ivan will fare against them. I have to admit I really liked the way you wrote these aliens even if they are clearly ruthless and/or seriously misguided about their intentions.

And Glover having to go and ask for help from someone who isn't his number one fan was a nice touch, too.

 

[Dnoth]

I agree, this is an interesting foe. I hope Glover Sr.'s good intentions don't cause more harm than good in an already complex situation.

 

[DarKush]

Thanks again for your comments. Yes, it will be interesting to see how our heroes survive, if they survive....I'm still working that all out. I wanted to also welcome Galen and his Star Trek Intrepid series into our United Trek universe and to thank him for the use of Captain Zorek and the Starship Nagasaki for this story.
*************************************************************
USS Nagasaki
Captain’s Ready Room

“Humans can be so unpredictable,” T’Prell said, frustration evident on her face. To reinforce it, she blew through her teeth. “I told Sam that everything was under control.”

Captain Zorek stroked his gray beard, carefully considering a response. Coming up with nothing appropriate, he merely shrugged. He had no desire to stoke T’Prell’s unseemly display of emotion. T’Prell’s left eyebrow inched up her forehead.

“That’s it? No profound insight from the great Zorek?” She asked, only half mocking.

“The desire to protect one’s progeny is hard-wired into humanity, as it is with Vulcans and many other species. It is not logical to assume that Admiral Glover, despite his affinity for you, would not act to protect his son.”

“I know,” T’Prell replied with a pinched expression. “But throwing this wildcard into the mix might actually jeopardize Terrence even further.”

“How so?”

“As it stood, Section 31 could perhaps save the Baltimore and secure the polaric ion generator with little official fuss. Another Starfleet vessel arriving would complicate matters extremely, and make it harder for 31 to slid into the ether.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about that,” Zorek said. He was discomfited by how relieved he was to not have to engage in artifice with the long-time covert operative. He had first learned of Section 31 nearly a century ago, after their involvement in the assassination of the Klingon Chancellor Gorkon had nearly led to war with the Federation.

Valeris, a colleague of his, had become entangled in the sordid affair, and his investigations into her fall, had led to his recruitment into one of the counter groups that opposed Section 31. He had been a ‘Listener’ for decades, passing on pertinent information to them when necessary. “You already know about the counter agent aboard the Baltimore. That agent could’ve secured the data and purged it by the time the Section 31 reinforcements arrive.”

“Perhaps, or 31 might’ve neutralized that agent, or that counter agent might’ve been instructed just to retrieve the information and leave false or corrupted data,” T’Prell countered. “Corruption that might be detected by the extra S31 help.”

“The imminent arrival of the Section 31 ship might also force the counter and Section 31 agents already aboard Baltimore to act, and Captain Glover would be caught in the middle,” Zorek finished her thought for her.

“Exactly,” T’Prell frowned. “And the loyalty of this new ripple Sam has put into play can’t be determined.” If Zorek were human, or belonged to another species enslaved to their emotions, he would’ve shook his head and tsked about how the bonds of trust had eroded throughout the Federation. Everyone seemed to have an agenda these days and nothing could be accepted at face value. It seemed like such a despairing state of affairs, not at all like the bright optimism suffusing the Federation when he had begun his Fleet career. Even though the shadows had been there, hanging over them all, only a few could see them. Most were blithely ignorant, himself included. Sometimes, in weaker moments, he longed for that ignorance again.

“Is that a frown I see?” T’Prell asked, a cold smile forming. Zorek’s expression hardened in response. “Sorry old friend,” T’Prell’s smile warmed. “I couldn’t help but tease.”
“I see,” Zorek stroked his beard again.

“I think you know what I’m about to ask you,” T’Prell spoke without further preamble. Zorek had always appreciated her forthrightness.

“Where is the Baltimore?” He asked, wishing to accord her to the same respect.
*******************************************************************

 

[CeJay]

And another series makes a cameo. You keep this up and you'll have the full set.

At first glance T'Prell and Cpt. Zorek seem to make for an unlikely friendship. They're both Vulcans but from different ends of the spectrum.

Also interesting to get a glimpse at the history at S31. Didn't know they were behind the Gorkon assassination. That makes a lot of sense though.

 

[DarKush]

And another series makes a cameo. You keep this up and you'll have the full set.

At first glance T'Prell and Cpt. Zorek seem to make for an unlikely friendship. They're both Vulcans but from different ends of the spectrum.

Also interesting to get a glimpse at the history at S31. Didn't know they were behind the Gorkon assassination. That makes a lot of sense though.

It's implied in the Trek Lit. novel Cloak that Cartwright was a Section 31 agent. Plus, I read something about S31 being involved possibly in Gorkon's death on the Memory Beta website, so I decided to just go with it.

As for Zorek and T'Prell I thought it would be neat to give them some history because they are so different.