Dark Territory: Parasite Eve
- Thread starter DarKush
- Start date
Let's try this again 
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Okay this didn't work. How do I fix this?
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[FONT=Times New Roman]USS Renegade[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]Mekagh Triangle[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]2364[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]“Captain Scott, we have arrived in the Mekagh Triangle,” the voice over the intercom said. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What’s our ETA to the rendezvous point?” Captain Tryla Scott propped herself on her elbows, her voice ragged with sleep. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Thirteen hours.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Have sensors detected any other ships within the system?” The respondent paused a few seconds.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “No sir.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Scott nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be on the bridge shortly.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “You know we’ve got thirteen hours,” Lt. Terrence Glover said. He caressed her face, his fingers gently exploring her smooth, walnut brown skin. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I think we’ve wasted enough time Terrence,” the captain replied, with a semi-serious look.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “You can call it many things, but wasted is definitely not one of them,” he laughed. Tryla turned away from him and sat up. Glover placed a hand on her shoulder. She trembled.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Are you okay?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Why do you ask?” She glanced back at him.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What’s going on Tryla?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What do you mean?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Here we go with the evasive bit again,” he sighed. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Look Terrence, there are things that are need to know, and you don’t need to know,” she replied.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What’s up with all this secrecy? The encrypted communications, this strange rendezvous? You’ve even cut Commander Holmes out of the loop.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Tryla turned around to more fully pin him with a stare. “So, you and the XO bosom buddies now?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Hardly,” Glover said. “But the man does have some friends onboard this boat, surprisingly, and word does get around.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Fred’s a good man,” Scott chided. “And I’m one of those hard-to-believe friends of his. Be careful how you regard a superior officer Mr. Glover.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Terrence pulled his hand away. “Now, it’s ‘Mr. Glover’. What happened to Terrence?” It had long been a sore point with him, the messy dividing line between how or when he could engage Tryla as a lover as opposed to his commanding officer. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “You prefer Terry?” She teased, attempting to defuse the situation. Wishing not to rehash an old debate, he allowed that moment to pass. However, he just couldn’t not address Tryla’s new behavior.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I prefer some transparency,” he replied.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Her shoulders tensed, and she scowled. “What is that supposed to mean? What are you implying Terrence? That I haven’t been truthful with you? Don’t you know how much I’m sacrificing just to be with you? There are many on this vessel, and in the admiralty that would not approve of our relationship and punish us both career wise.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Like your friend Holmes,” Terrence couldn’t help himself from laying in the jab. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “That’s a low blow,” Scott replied. “Fred’s known about us for months now, and he hasn’t said a word about it.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “No, he just rips into me every chance he gets,” Glover replied. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Fred’s a stickler,” Tryla said, “I have no problem with that. He’s not going to let anyone cruise, even you.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “So that’s what you think I’ve been doing?” Terrence snapped. “You don’t think I’ve been carrying my load?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “No,” Scott said, placing a mollifying hand on his shoulder. Glover pulled away from her. “Of course not.” She turned back around, and reached for her nightstand. She pulled a small box out and showed it to him. “Go on, take it.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I don’t give a damn about trinkets,” he huffed. “You know that.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Open it,” she used her command voice. Terrence reluctantly complied. He forced himself not to gasp when he saw the single pip inside the box. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What’s going on?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Congratulations Lieutenant Commander,” she smiled. “I had been planning to do something a bit more formal, but I think the occasion warrants you knowing how much I think about the contributions you’ve made to this vessel.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I-I don’t know what to say,” Glover said.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “That’s a first,” she jibed. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Ha,” he replied, still marveling at the pip. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Go ahead and get dressed,” she said. “I can’t wait to pin it on you at the official ceremony.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Me either,” Glover grinned. “But let me go back to my cabin. I need a shower and fresh uniform.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I need to be on the bridge,” she said. “We’ll reconvene later.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “That’s fine,” Terrence said, not fully listening to her. He was still floored by his promotion and being one step closer to the captain’s chair. He put on his old uniform, smoothing out the ruffles as best he could before poking his head slowly out of the door, glancing both ways down the empty corridor. Satisfied that no one would see him exit the captain’s quarters, Glover quickly left. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]**********[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]USS Renegade[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]Main Bridge[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “So glad you could join us Mr. Glover,” Commander Frederick Holmes scowled. Glover returned the critique with a cocky smirk. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Sir, I jump at every opportunity to spend time with you,” he said as he quickly took over the operations terminal. Sitting at the adjacent helm console, Lt. Sarhana laughed, hastily placing a hand over her mouth for cover. Glover grinned at the comely lavender-skinned Phalkerian, now a deeper shade due to her embarrassment. Holmes grumbled. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Captain Scott sighed loudly. “Can it Terrence,” she said. “And check the sensors again.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Yes sir,” Terrence said crisply. He brought up the sensor readouts on the terminal, his eyes scouring the data, looking for something telling. “I’ve got nothing.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] The captain frowned. She leaned forward in her seat. “This doesn’t make sense,” she said quietly.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What doesn’t make sense?” Glover asked. Really, he wanted to state that this entire mission didn’t make sense. Usually Tryla was pretty open about mission specifics. She saw Terrence as a kindred spirit and a future captain and she wanted him to get as much of a view from the captain’s perch as possible, except for lately. For the last several weeks she had been taking secret communiqués in her ready room, and making decisions that didn’t seem all that logical. He wasn’t sure how much Holmes knew what was really going on, but if the large man had any doubts he wasn’t showing them. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Glover had tried to broach the subject of Tryla’s mysterious behavior, but she had shut him down quickly. Eventually he had decided to back off after she had asked him to trust her. Trust wasn’t something that came easy to him, but he felt he owed the captain the benefit of the doubt. She had placed a lot of trust in him after all. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Terrence pulled himself out of his reverie to the hard stares of both of his superior officers. “That’s none of your business Mr. Glover,” Holmes grated. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I’m Second Officer on this ship,” Terrence couldn’t help himself. “I think that entitles me to be in the loop.” He could feel the tension crackling in the air between himself and Holmes. He knew their latest testy exchange would fuel the shipboard rumor mill for the next few days, and Glover also recognized on some level how unprofessional the retort was, but Holmes pushed all the wrong buttons with him. The commander was a competent officer, but that was about it. He was a static person, a workhorse that liked taking orders more than giving them, Glover thought, and deep down he felt that man didn’t deserve to be XO. However, Tryla had thought differently. She had been extremely candid with him that she though Holmes had been looked over because of his bluntness, and she someone who wouldn’t hold their punches as her second in command. Terrence thought that such an arrangement did more harm than good. When he was captain, he wanted simpatico on his bridge. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “You’re ice skating on another charge of insubordination,” Holmes replied. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Cool it you two,” Scott snapped. She stood up. “I’m going to my ready room. Fred you have the conn.” A blinking light on Glover’s console caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned back around to gaze at the new information streaming down the screen’s flattened surface.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Captain, we’ve got a tachyon wave distortion, consistent with a cloaked vessel.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Red alert!” Holmes snapped. Tryla quickly retook her seat.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “On screen,” she commanded. The main viewer switched to a patch of undulating space, which slowly took the shape of a Klingon Bird-of-Prey. “Hail them,” Scott said, with noticeably less tension than a second before. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “The Klingons aren’t answering the hail,” Lt. Gart said. “They’re powering their weapons.” He paused a beat, “They’re firing!” A reddish rain of destruction poured from the Klingon warship, smashing into the Renegade. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] With the ship’s shields up, it made little impact, except to rattle the Renegade nearly to its ramparts. “What the hell is going on here?” Holmes asked. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Damage report,” Scott demanded, ignoring Holmes’s question. After each department quickly reported in, the captain said, “Hail them again, Mr. Gart.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “No response sir,” the Nausicaan Tactical Officer said, punctuating it with a snort. “They’re firing again.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “This is growing tiresome,” Scott said, after receiving a second damage assessment. Shields were down 15% and the engine room had incurred minor damage. Thankfully there had been no casualties to report. “Mr. Gart, target that ship’s weapons and engines. Fire when ready.” Twin golden beams stabbed into the Klingon ship, slicing through their shields. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Direct hits,” Gart said with glee. “The Klingons are hailing.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “You’ve come to finish the job of your brethren?” The battered Klingon roared at them. He was slumping in the command chair of a ruined bridge. “We’ll never surrender! We’ll never allow the Empire to be overtaken!” He declared.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I-I don’t understand,” Tryla said, with equal amounts of confusion and fear in her voice. “I’m Captain Tryla Scott, I came in search of the Federation Starship Bonaventure, have you encountered that ship?” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Today is a good day to die,” the Klingon brayed. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Captain, the Klingon vessel is overloading their warp engines,” Glover said. “They’re going to destroy themselves.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Not if I can help it,” Scott declared. “Gart, beam as many of those Klingons off that ship that you can. Place them in the brig, and have medical on standby.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Aye sir,” the Nausicaan remarked, with less enthusiasm than before. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Six Klingons have been transported to the brig,” Gart reported.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “That’s all?” Scott asked. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Those were the ones that had life signs,” Gart said.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Damn,” Scott cursed. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Those engines are critical,” Glover reported.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Get us out of here, maximum warp,” Scott snapped. She jumped out of her seat and nodded to Gart. “Gart you’re with me.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Glover wanted to go with the captain so bad that it was physically painful to remain in his seat, but his bit his tongue, and attended his station. “Like to come along Mr. Glover?” Scott asked from inside the turbolift.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] He was halfway to the lift before he responded. “Yes sir.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]***************[/FONT]
.Okay this didn't work. How do I fix this?
***********************
[FONT=Times New Roman]DARK TERRITORY:[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]PARASITE EVE[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]PARASITE EVE[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]USS Renegade[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]Mekagh Triangle[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]2364[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]“Captain Scott, we have arrived in the Mekagh Triangle,” the voice over the intercom said. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What’s our ETA to the rendezvous point?” Captain Tryla Scott propped herself on her elbows, her voice ragged with sleep. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Thirteen hours.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Have sensors detected any other ships within the system?” The respondent paused a few seconds.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “No sir.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Scott nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be on the bridge shortly.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “You know we’ve got thirteen hours,” Lt. Terrence Glover said. He caressed her face, his fingers gently exploring her smooth, walnut brown skin. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I think we’ve wasted enough time Terrence,” the captain replied, with a semi-serious look.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “You can call it many things, but wasted is definitely not one of them,” he laughed. Tryla turned away from him and sat up. Glover placed a hand on her shoulder. She trembled.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Are you okay?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Why do you ask?” She glanced back at him.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What’s going on Tryla?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What do you mean?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Here we go with the evasive bit again,” he sighed. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Look Terrence, there are things that are need to know, and you don’t need to know,” she replied.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What’s up with all this secrecy? The encrypted communications, this strange rendezvous? You’ve even cut Commander Holmes out of the loop.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Tryla turned around to more fully pin him with a stare. “So, you and the XO bosom buddies now?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Hardly,” Glover said. “But the man does have some friends onboard this boat, surprisingly, and word does get around.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Fred’s a good man,” Scott chided. “And I’m one of those hard-to-believe friends of his. Be careful how you regard a superior officer Mr. Glover.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Terrence pulled his hand away. “Now, it’s ‘Mr. Glover’. What happened to Terrence?” It had long been a sore point with him, the messy dividing line between how or when he could engage Tryla as a lover as opposed to his commanding officer. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “You prefer Terry?” She teased, attempting to defuse the situation. Wishing not to rehash an old debate, he allowed that moment to pass. However, he just couldn’t not address Tryla’s new behavior.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I prefer some transparency,” he replied.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Her shoulders tensed, and she scowled. “What is that supposed to mean? What are you implying Terrence? That I haven’t been truthful with you? Don’t you know how much I’m sacrificing just to be with you? There are many on this vessel, and in the admiralty that would not approve of our relationship and punish us both career wise.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Like your friend Holmes,” Terrence couldn’t help himself from laying in the jab. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “That’s a low blow,” Scott replied. “Fred’s known about us for months now, and he hasn’t said a word about it.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “No, he just rips into me every chance he gets,” Glover replied. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Fred’s a stickler,” Tryla said, “I have no problem with that. He’s not going to let anyone cruise, even you.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “So that’s what you think I’ve been doing?” Terrence snapped. “You don’t think I’ve been carrying my load?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “No,” Scott said, placing a mollifying hand on his shoulder. Glover pulled away from her. “Of course not.” She turned back around, and reached for her nightstand. She pulled a small box out and showed it to him. “Go on, take it.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I don’t give a damn about trinkets,” he huffed. “You know that.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Open it,” she used her command voice. Terrence reluctantly complied. He forced himself not to gasp when he saw the single pip inside the box. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What’s going on?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Congratulations Lieutenant Commander,” she smiled. “I had been planning to do something a bit more formal, but I think the occasion warrants you knowing how much I think about the contributions you’ve made to this vessel.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I-I don’t know what to say,” Glover said.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “That’s a first,” she jibed. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Ha,” he replied, still marveling at the pip. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Go ahead and get dressed,” she said. “I can’t wait to pin it on you at the official ceremony.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Me either,” Glover grinned. “But let me go back to my cabin. I need a shower and fresh uniform.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I need to be on the bridge,” she said. “We’ll reconvene later.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “That’s fine,” Terrence said, not fully listening to her. He was still floored by his promotion and being one step closer to the captain’s chair. He put on his old uniform, smoothing out the ruffles as best he could before poking his head slowly out of the door, glancing both ways down the empty corridor. Satisfied that no one would see him exit the captain’s quarters, Glover quickly left. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]**********[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]USS Renegade[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]Main Bridge[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “So glad you could join us Mr. Glover,” Commander Frederick Holmes scowled. Glover returned the critique with a cocky smirk. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Sir, I jump at every opportunity to spend time with you,” he said as he quickly took over the operations terminal. Sitting at the adjacent helm console, Lt. Sarhana laughed, hastily placing a hand over her mouth for cover. Glover grinned at the comely lavender-skinned Phalkerian, now a deeper shade due to her embarrassment. Holmes grumbled. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Captain Scott sighed loudly. “Can it Terrence,” she said. “And check the sensors again.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Yes sir,” Terrence said crisply. He brought up the sensor readouts on the terminal, his eyes scouring the data, looking for something telling. “I’ve got nothing.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] The captain frowned. She leaned forward in her seat. “This doesn’t make sense,” she said quietly.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “What doesn’t make sense?” Glover asked. Really, he wanted to state that this entire mission didn’t make sense. Usually Tryla was pretty open about mission specifics. She saw Terrence as a kindred spirit and a future captain and she wanted him to get as much of a view from the captain’s perch as possible, except for lately. For the last several weeks she had been taking secret communiqués in her ready room, and making decisions that didn’t seem all that logical. He wasn’t sure how much Holmes knew what was really going on, but if the large man had any doubts he wasn’t showing them. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Glover had tried to broach the subject of Tryla’s mysterious behavior, but she had shut him down quickly. Eventually he had decided to back off after she had asked him to trust her. Trust wasn’t something that came easy to him, but he felt he owed the captain the benefit of the doubt. She had placed a lot of trust in him after all. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Terrence pulled himself out of his reverie to the hard stares of both of his superior officers. “That’s none of your business Mr. Glover,” Holmes grated. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I’m Second Officer on this ship,” Terrence couldn’t help himself. “I think that entitles me to be in the loop.” He could feel the tension crackling in the air between himself and Holmes. He knew their latest testy exchange would fuel the shipboard rumor mill for the next few days, and Glover also recognized on some level how unprofessional the retort was, but Holmes pushed all the wrong buttons with him. The commander was a competent officer, but that was about it. He was a static person, a workhorse that liked taking orders more than giving them, Glover thought, and deep down he felt that man didn’t deserve to be XO. However, Tryla had thought differently. She had been extremely candid with him that she though Holmes had been looked over because of his bluntness, and she someone who wouldn’t hold their punches as her second in command. Terrence thought that such an arrangement did more harm than good. When he was captain, he wanted simpatico on his bridge. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “You’re ice skating on another charge of insubordination,” Holmes replied. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Cool it you two,” Scott snapped. She stood up. “I’m going to my ready room. Fred you have the conn.” A blinking light on Glover’s console caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned back around to gaze at the new information streaming down the screen’s flattened surface.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Captain, we’ve got a tachyon wave distortion, consistent with a cloaked vessel.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Red alert!” Holmes snapped. Tryla quickly retook her seat.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “On screen,” she commanded. The main viewer switched to a patch of undulating space, which slowly took the shape of a Klingon Bird-of-Prey. “Hail them,” Scott said, with noticeably less tension than a second before. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “The Klingons aren’t answering the hail,” Lt. Gart said. “They’re powering their weapons.” He paused a beat, “They’re firing!” A reddish rain of destruction poured from the Klingon warship, smashing into the Renegade. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] With the ship’s shields up, it made little impact, except to rattle the Renegade nearly to its ramparts. “What the hell is going on here?” Holmes asked. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Damage report,” Scott demanded, ignoring Holmes’s question. After each department quickly reported in, the captain said, “Hail them again, Mr. Gart.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “No response sir,” the Nausicaan Tactical Officer said, punctuating it with a snort. “They’re firing again.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “This is growing tiresome,” Scott said, after receiving a second damage assessment. Shields were down 15% and the engine room had incurred minor damage. Thankfully there had been no casualties to report. “Mr. Gart, target that ship’s weapons and engines. Fire when ready.” Twin golden beams stabbed into the Klingon ship, slicing through their shields. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Direct hits,” Gart said with glee. “The Klingons are hailing.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “You’ve come to finish the job of your brethren?” The battered Klingon roared at them. He was slumping in the command chair of a ruined bridge. “We’ll never surrender! We’ll never allow the Empire to be overtaken!” He declared.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “I-I don’t understand,” Tryla said, with equal amounts of confusion and fear in her voice. “I’m Captain Tryla Scott, I came in search of the Federation Starship Bonaventure, have you encountered that ship?” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Today is a good day to die,” the Klingon brayed. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Captain, the Klingon vessel is overloading their warp engines,” Glover said. “They’re going to destroy themselves.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Not if I can help it,” Scott declared. “Gart, beam as many of those Klingons off that ship that you can. Place them in the brig, and have medical on standby.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Aye sir,” the Nausicaan remarked, with less enthusiasm than before. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Six Klingons have been transported to the brig,” Gart reported.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “That’s all?” Scott asked. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Those were the ones that had life signs,” Gart said.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Damn,” Scott cursed. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Those engines are critical,” Glover reported.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Get us out of here, maximum warp,” Scott snapped. She jumped out of her seat and nodded to Gart. “Gart you’re with me.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Glover wanted to go with the captain so bad that it was physically painful to remain in his seat, but his bit his tongue, and attended his station. “Like to come along Mr. Glover?” Scott asked from inside the turbolift.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] He was halfway to the lift before he responded. “Yes sir.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman]***************[/FONT]
I use Notepad to strip the extra codes. A simple search and replace with a blank line.
-- ZC
-- ZC
Ow!! My eyes! I think they are bleeding.... seriously-I had the same issue. Try using Firefox when you log on and post while you are in Firefox instead of IE-earlier versions of IE don't like the new board format. I think the latest version of IE works-but when I upgraded mine Micro(monopoly on the world)Soft claimed my OS wouldn't validate and now my Media Player won't work-which is BS 'cause I have a paid-for version of XP! So stick with that nice, free, easy-to-use Firefox and you should be OK!
"Resistance is Futile! We are Microsoft! You will be assimilated!"(my favorite t-shirt!)
"Resistance is Futile! We are Microsoft! You will be assimilated!"(my favorite t-shirt!)
DARK TERRITORY:
PARASITE EVE
PARASITE EVE
USS Renegade
Mekagh Triangle
2364
“Captain Scott, we have arrived in the Mekagh Triangle,” the voice over the intercom said.
“What’s our ETA to the rendezvous point?” Captain Tryla Scott propped herself on her elbows, her voice ragged with sleep.
“Thirteen hours.”
“Have sensors detected any other ships within the system?” The respondent paused a few seconds.
“No sir.”
Scott nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be on the bridge shortly.”
“You know we’ve got thirteen hours,” Lt. Terrence Glover said. He caressed her face, his fingers gently exploring her smooth, walnut brown skin.
“I think we’ve wasted enough time Terrence,” the captain replied, with a semi-serious look.
“You can call it many things, but wasted is definitely not one of them,” he laughed. Tryla turned away from him and sat up. Glover placed a hand on her shoulder. She trembled.
“Are you okay?”
“Why do you ask?” She glanced back at him.
“What’s going on Tryla?”
“What do you mean?”
“Here we go with the evasive bit again,” he sighed.
“Look Terrence, there are things that are need to know, and you don’t need to know,” she replied.
“What’s up with all this secrecy? The encrypted communications, this strange rendezvous? You’ve even cut Commander Holmes out of the loop.”
Tryla turned around to more fully pin him with a stare. “So, you and the XO bosom buddies now?”
“Hardly,” Glover said. “But the man does have some friends onboard this boat, surprisingly, and word does get around.”
“Fred’s a good man,” Scott chided. “And I’m one of those hard-to-believe friends of his. Be careful how you regard a superior officer Mr. Glover.”
Terrence pulled his hand away. “Now, it’s ‘Mr. Glover’. What happened to Terrence?” It had long been a sore point with him, the messy dividing line between how or when he could engage Tryla as a lover as opposed to his commanding officer.
“You prefer Terry?” She teased, attempting to defuse the situation. Wishing not to rehash an old debate, he allowed that moment to pass. However, he just couldn’t not address Tryla’s new behavior.
“I prefer some transparency,” he replied.
Her shoulders tensed, and she scowled. “What is that supposed to mean? What are you implying Terrence? That I haven’t been truthful with you? Don’t you know how much I’m sacrificing just to be with you? There are many on this vessel, and in the admiralty that would not approve of our relationship and punish us both career wise.”
“Like your friend Holmes,” Terrence couldn’t help himself from laying in the jab.
“That’s a low blow,” Scott replied. “Fred’s known about us for months now, and he hasn’t said a word about it.”
“No, he just rips into me every chance he gets,” Glover replied.
“Fred’s a stickler,” Tryla said, “I have no problem with that. He’s not going to let anyone cruise, even you.”
“So that’s what you think I’ve been doing?” Terrence snapped. “You don’t think I’ve been carrying my load?”
“No,” Scott said, placing a mollifying hand on his shoulder. Glover pulled away from her. “Of course not.” She turned back around, and reached for her nightstand. She pulled a small box out and showed it to him. “Go on, take it.”
“I don’t give a damn about trinkets,” he huffed. “You know that.”
“Open it,” she used her command voice. Terrence reluctantly complied. He forced himself not to gasp when he saw the single pip inside the box.
“What’s going on?”
“Congratulations Lieutenant Commander,” she smiled. “I had been planning to do something a bit more formal, but I think the occasion warrants you knowing how much I think about the contributions you’ve made to this vessel.”
“I-I don’t know what to say,” Glover said.
“That’s a first,” she jibed.
“Ha,” he replied, still marveling at the pip.
“Go ahead and get dressed,” she said. “I can’t wait to pin it on you at the official ceremony.”
“Me either,” Glover grinned. “But let me go back to my cabin. I need a shower and fresh uniform.”
“I need to be on the bridge,” she said. “We’ll reconvene later.”
“That’s fine,” Terrence said, not fully listening to her. He was still floored by his promotion and being one step closer to the captain’s chair. He put on his old uniform, smoothing out the ruffles as best he could before poking his head slowly out of the door, glancing both ways down the empty corridor. Satisfied that no one would see him exit the captain’s quarters, Glover quickly left.
**********
USS Renegade
Main Bridge
“So glad you could join us Mr. Glover,” Commander Frederick Holmes scowled. Glover returned the critique with a cocky smirk.
“Sir, I jump at every opportunity to spend time with you,” he said as he quickly took over the operations terminal. Sitting at the adjacent helm console, Lt. Sarhana laughed, hastily placing a hand over her mouth for cover. Glover grinned at the comely lavender-skinned Phalkerian, now a deeper shade due to her embarrassment. Holmes grumbled.
Captain Scott sighed loudly. “Can it Terrence,” she said. “And check the sensors again.”
“Yes sir,” Terrence said crisply. He brought up the sensor readouts on the terminal, his eyes scouring the data, looking for something telling. “I’ve got nothing.”
The captain frowned. She leaned forward in her seat. “This doesn’t make sense,” she said quietly.
“What doesn’t make sense?” Glover asked. Really, he wanted to state that this entire mission didn’t make sense. Usually Tryla was pretty open about mission specifics. She saw Terrence as a kindred spirit and a future captain and she wanted him to get as much of a view from the captain’s perch as possible, except for lately. For the last several weeks she had been taking secret communiqués in her ready room, and making decisions that didn’t seem all that logical. He wasn’t sure how much Holmes knew what was really going on, but if the large man had any doubts he wasn’t showing them.
Glover had tried to broach the subject of Tryla’s mysterious behavior, but she had shut him down quickly. Eventually he had decided to back off after she had asked him to trust her. Trust wasn’t something that came easy to him, but he felt he owed the captain the benefit of the doubt. She had placed a lot of trust in him after all.
Terrence pulled himself out of his reverie to the hard stares of both of his superior officers. “That’s none of your business Mr. Glover,” Holmes grated.
“I’m Second Officer on this ship,” Terrence couldn’t help himself. “I think that entitles me to be in the loop.” He could feel the tension crackling in the air between himself and Holmes. He knew their latest testy exchange would fuel the shipboard rumor mill for the next few days, and Glover also recognized on some level how unprofessional the retort was, but Holmes pushed all the wrong buttons with him.
The commander was a competent officer, but that was about it. He was a static person, a workhorse that liked taking orders more than giving them, Glover thought, and deep down he felt that man didn’t deserve to be XO. However, Tryla had thought differently. She had been extremely candid with him that she though Holmes had been looked over because of his bluntness, and she someone who wouldn’t hold their punches as her second in command. Terrence thought that such an arrangement did more harm than good. When he was captain, he wanted simpatico on his bridge.
“You’re ice skating on another charge of insubordination,” Holmes replied.
“Cool it you two,” Scott snapped. She stood up. “I’m going to my ready room. Fred you have the conn.” A blinking light on Glover’s console caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned back around to gaze at the new information streaming down the screen’s flattened surface.
“Captain, we’ve got a tachyon wave distortion, consistent with a cloaked vessel.”
“Red alert!” Holmes snapped. Tryla quickly retook her seat.
“On screen,” she commanded. The main viewer switched to a patch of undulating space, which slowly took the shape of a Klingon Bird-of-Prey. “Hail them,” Scott said, with noticeably less tension than a second before.
“The Klingons aren’t answering the hail,” Lt. Gart said. “They’re powering their weapons.” He paused a beat, “They’re firing!” A reddish rain of destruction poured from the Klingon warship, smashing into the Renegade.
With the ship’s shields up, it made little impact, except to rattle the Renegade nearly to its ramparts. “What the hell is going on here?” Holmes asked.
“Damage report,” Scott demanded, ignoring Holmes’s question. After each department quickly reported in, the captain said, “Hail them again, Mr. Gart.”
“No response sir,” the Nausicaan Tactical Officer said, punctuating it with a snort. “They’re firing again.”
“This is growing tiresome,” Scott said, after receiving a second damage assessment. Shields were down 15% and the engine room had incurred minor damage. Thankfully there had been no casualties to report. “Mr. Gart, target that ship’s weapons and engines. Fire when ready.” Twin golden beams stabbed into the Klingon ship, slicing through their shields.
“Direct hits,” Gart said with glee. “The Klingons are hailing.”
“You’ve come to finish the job of your brethren?” The battered Klingon roared at them. He was slumping in the command chair of a ruined bridge. “We’ll never surrender! We’ll never allow the Empire to be overtaken!” He declared.
“I-I don’t understand,” Tryla said, with equal amounts of confusion and fear in her voice. “I’m Captain Tryla Scott, I came in search of the Federation Starship Bonaventure, have you encountered that ship?”
“Today is a good day to die,” the Klingon brayed.
“Captain, the Klingon vessel is overloading their warp engines,” Glover said. “They’re going to destroy themselves.”
“Not if I can help it,” Scott declared. “Gart, beam as many of those Klingons off that ship that you can. Place them in the brig, and have medical on standby.”
“Aye sir,” the Nausicaan remarked, with less enthusiasm than before.
“Six Klingons have been transported to the brig,” Gart reported.
“That’s all?” Scott asked.
“Those were the ones that had life signs,” Gart said.
“Damn,” Scott cursed.
“Those engines are critical,” Glover reported.
“Get us out of here, maximum warp,” Scott snapped. She jumped out of her seat and nodded to Gart. “Gart you’re with me.”
Glover wanted to go with the captain so bad that it was physically painful to remain in his seat, but his bit his tongue, and attended his station. “Like to come along Mr. Glover?” Scott asked from inside the turbolift.
He was halfway to the lift before he responded. “Yes sir.”
***************
This gonna be good. I can already tell.
It took me awhile to realize you used Fredrick Holmes…I just made up the name for Sintina’s bio. That’s awesome that you picked up on it!
IMO, the neural parasites didn't get explored nearly enough. It's great to see them back! ...well, not great...
It took me awhile to realize you used Fredrick Holmes…I just made up the name for Sintina’s bio. That’s awesome that you picked up on it!
IMO, the neural parasites didn't get explored nearly enough. It's great to see them back! ...well, not great...
This gonna be good. I can already tell.
It took me awhile to realize you used Fredrick Holmes…I just made up the name for Sintina’s bio. That’s awesome that you picked up on it!
IMO, the neural parasites didn't get explored nearly enough. It's great to see them back! ...well, not great...
I hope you continue liking the story Dnoth. I had been writing a story, based in 2377, that included Holmes, but I stopped writing it. I had always wanted to do a "Conspiracy" related story and once a good idea popped into my head I thought it would be nice to use Holmes. I'm glad you approve.
***************
USS Renegade
Detention Center
Three of the Klingons, in various stages of health, were circling their unconscious comrades, their daggers gleaming. They began stabbing the insensate three.
“Stop them!” Scott ordered. Gart nodded, and the skittish security guard at the terminal controlling the brig’s energy fields, jumped. Thick purple gas began pouring from vents in the cell’s ceiling. The Klingons began coughing, but they didn’t stop their murder. “Increase the dosage for God’s sake,” Tryla yelled.
The murderous Klingons began to stagger, but two of them were lucid enough to plunge their bloody blades into their chests. The third Klingon, the battered warrior that had screamed at them on the bridge, tried to do the same, but the dagger fell from his fingers. He glared at the Starfleet officers through the purple haze. He spat, “PetaQ!” He roared before he lunged at them, flinging himself into the forcefield containing them in the cell. His body twitched and jerked madly as it was caught in the energy web.
Terrence began to smell the rank odor of cooking flesh. “Shut it off!” Scott screamed. “Turn it off damnit!” She rushed to the console to do the job herself, but the field dropped. The badly burned Klingon slammed onto the deck. Tryla hit her combadge. “Emergency beam out to Sickbay,” she ordered. She placed it gently on the Klingon’s arm. “Now!” She stepped back as the beam took hold of the injured man. “Let’s go,” she said without looking back.
*****************
USS Renegade
Sickbay
“What’s the prognosis Doctor?” Tryla asked the thin Saurian standing over the charred Klingon. A level-three forcefield encapsulated the fallen warrior.
“Far from optimal I fear,” Dr. Eknath replied. “The patient had already received extensive internal injuries before the burns. Klingons are remarkably durable, but I’m not certain at this point if his recuperative system will yet rebound. I promise you I will do all I can.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Scott smiled. “Keep me informed the minute he wakes up.”
“If,” Eknath corrected. The captain nodded curtly.
“If,” she repeated. She turned to Glover and Gart. “Back to the bridge.”
“What’s going on?” Terrence asked. He lightly grabbed her arm, not worried about how the gesture might look to Gart or Eknath. He was more concerned that Tryla had gotten herself into something that she might not be able to handle.
“Later,” she said, gently prying his hand away. “Right now, we’ve to find the Bonaventure.”
*****************
USS Renegade
Sixteen Hours Later…..
“I’ve got debris and ion emissions,” Glover looked up from his viewscreen. He rubbed his aching eyes. “I’ve think we’ve found the Bonaventure, or at least part of it.” The viewer showed a trail of metal, bodies, and other materials spread along as if they were a pathway leading to hell.
“Let’s follow that trail,” Scott said. “Maintain red alert, shields and weapons ready.”
*******************
USS Renegade
Main Bridge
Gart’s low growl prickled the hairs of Terrence’s neck. He didn’t need to check his console’s readouts because the main viewer was filled with the image of a cleaved starship saucer, its darkened environs opened to the fatal vacuum of space.
“Nothing could’ve survived that,” Commander Holmes grumbled.
“Check anyway,” Captain Scott mumbled. She stood up from her seat, and walked absently past both Terrence and Sarhana. The captain pressed her face against the main screen as if in shock. “Is that the Bonaventure’s main saucer?” She asked, still facing the viewer.
“Yes sir,” Glover said after rechecking his terminal. “Scans do identify the vessel as the Starship Bonaventure, NCC-99502. Galaxy-class.”
“Damn,” Scott cursed.
“Where’s the rest of the ship?” Holmes asked.
“Good question,” the captain added. She turned to look at Terrence. “You’ve got an answer for the XO Mr. Glover?”
“Not…yet,” Terrence said, before getting to work. He didn’t like being put on the spot, particularly when he didn’t have a ready made answer. “I’m increasing the ship’s scanning radius.”
“Modulate our sensors to scan for the Bonaventure’s composite materials,” Holmes suggested. “Perhaps there’s another trail that will lead us to the secondary hull.”
“My thoughts exactly,” the captain smirked. “Reading my mind again Commander?” Holmes harrumphed. Scott laughed.
“I’ve detected a trail,” Glover said.
“Lay in a course,” the captain ordered.
************
USS Renegade
Detention Center
Three of the Klingons, in various stages of health, were circling their unconscious comrades, their daggers gleaming. They began stabbing the insensate three.
“Stop them!” Scott ordered. Gart nodded, and the skittish security guard at the terminal controlling the brig’s energy fields, jumped. Thick purple gas began pouring from vents in the cell’s ceiling. The Klingons began coughing, but they didn’t stop their murder. “Increase the dosage for God’s sake,” Tryla yelled.
The murderous Klingons began to stagger, but two of them were lucid enough to plunge their bloody blades into their chests. The third Klingon, the battered warrior that had screamed at them on the bridge, tried to do the same, but the dagger fell from his fingers. He glared at the Starfleet officers through the purple haze. He spat, “PetaQ!” He roared before he lunged at them, flinging himself into the forcefield containing them in the cell. His body twitched and jerked madly as it was caught in the energy web.
Terrence began to smell the rank odor of cooking flesh. “Shut it off!” Scott screamed. “Turn it off damnit!” She rushed to the console to do the job herself, but the field dropped. The badly burned Klingon slammed onto the deck. Tryla hit her combadge. “Emergency beam out to Sickbay,” she ordered. She placed it gently on the Klingon’s arm. “Now!” She stepped back as the beam took hold of the injured man. “Let’s go,” she said without looking back.
*****************
USS Renegade
Sickbay
“What’s the prognosis Doctor?” Tryla asked the thin Saurian standing over the charred Klingon. A level-three forcefield encapsulated the fallen warrior.
“Far from optimal I fear,” Dr. Eknath replied. “The patient had already received extensive internal injuries before the burns. Klingons are remarkably durable, but I’m not certain at this point if his recuperative system will yet rebound. I promise you I will do all I can.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Scott smiled. “Keep me informed the minute he wakes up.”
“If,” Eknath corrected. The captain nodded curtly.
“If,” she repeated. She turned to Glover and Gart. “Back to the bridge.”
“What’s going on?” Terrence asked. He lightly grabbed her arm, not worried about how the gesture might look to Gart or Eknath. He was more concerned that Tryla had gotten herself into something that she might not be able to handle.
“Later,” she said, gently prying his hand away. “Right now, we’ve to find the Bonaventure.”
*****************
USS Renegade
Sixteen Hours Later…..
“I’ve got debris and ion emissions,” Glover looked up from his viewscreen. He rubbed his aching eyes. “I’ve think we’ve found the Bonaventure, or at least part of it.” The viewer showed a trail of metal, bodies, and other materials spread along as if they were a pathway leading to hell.
“Let’s follow that trail,” Scott said. “Maintain red alert, shields and weapons ready.”
*******************
USS Renegade
Main Bridge
Gart’s low growl prickled the hairs of Terrence’s neck. He didn’t need to check his console’s readouts because the main viewer was filled with the image of a cleaved starship saucer, its darkened environs opened to the fatal vacuum of space.
“Nothing could’ve survived that,” Commander Holmes grumbled.
“Check anyway,” Captain Scott mumbled. She stood up from her seat, and walked absently past both Terrence and Sarhana. The captain pressed her face against the main screen as if in shock. “Is that the Bonaventure’s main saucer?” She asked, still facing the viewer.
“Yes sir,” Glover said after rechecking his terminal. “Scans do identify the vessel as the Starship Bonaventure, NCC-99502. Galaxy-class.”
“Damn,” Scott cursed.
“Where’s the rest of the ship?” Holmes asked.
“Good question,” the captain added. She turned to look at Terrence. “You’ve got an answer for the XO Mr. Glover?”
“Not…yet,” Terrence said, before getting to work. He didn’t like being put on the spot, particularly when he didn’t have a ready made answer. “I’m increasing the ship’s scanning radius.”
“Modulate our sensors to scan for the Bonaventure’s composite materials,” Holmes suggested. “Perhaps there’s another trail that will lead us to the secondary hull.”
“My thoughts exactly,” the captain smirked. “Reading my mind again Commander?” Holmes harrumphed. Scott laughed.
“I’ve detected a trail,” Glover said.
“Lay in a course,” the captain ordered.
************
************
USS Bonaventure
Battle Bridge
The away team materialized in a blaze of light on the dim battle bridge. A string of emergency lights spread throughout the bulkheads wanly fought against the murkiness. Everyone except the captain immediately whipped out their tricorders and began to scan. Captain Scott went straight to the man splayed over the command chair.
She gasped, “Captain Sipe.” There was a large, wet, ragged hole in the middle of his chest, surrounded by the familiar burn marks of a phaser set to kill.
“Who could’ve done this?” Dr. Eknath asked.
“The more important question is why did they even bother?” Glover said. “The baryonic radiation levels suffusing the bridge are almost off the scale. If not for our EVA suits we’d already be showing signs of sickness.” The captain glanced at Eknath for confirmation. The Saurian nodded in agreement, his frown noticeable even through his suit’s thick visor.
“It appears that radiation sickness killed the rest of the bridge crew,” Gart concluded. Scott nodded, oddly, inappropriately amazed that they actually had an environmental suit large enough for the Nausicaan. It was a stupid thing to be considering now, but much better than accepting the truth. The alien parasites had gotten to Ryan Sipe just like they had murdered Karapleedeez and McKinney.
Admiral Quinn had been right after all. Though she had thrown in her lot with him and a few other officers months ago, she still held out a crazy hope that it was all just the ramblings of a well meaning, but senile admiral. But if that had been the case Captains Keel and Rixx wouldn’t have joined this cabal, nor would Walker be actually considering bringing in Captain Picard from the Enterprise.
As much as she respected Picard, Tryla was doubtful that widening the circle was a good move; it just opened the door for an infiltrator to enter their ranks and destroy them from within. Then again, the parasites seemed to be doing that already. So far, the cabal’s numbers had been shorn in half, with three talented officers, and many of their crews dying under “mysterious” circumstances.
She was certain that Gart’s investigation would yield nothing exposing the true culprits of this tragedy. But she couldn’t let him know that, not yet. Right now, she wasn’t sure who she could fully trust, even among her own staff, and Tryla hated herself for feeling that way.
“Captain,” Glover’s concerned voice intruded on her brooding. “It’s Chief Doyle.”
The captain activated her combadge. “Go ahead Chief,” she instructed her chief engineer.
“Captain, you’re not going to believe this,” the typically brusque woman said with uncharacteristic restraint.
“Never know till you try me,” Scott tried to joke.
“We’ve got survivors, three in fact, but they’re not doing well.”
“Alright, prepare them for beam out,” the captain ordered. She contacted Renegade. “Prepare for emergency beam in to Sickbay. Set up three level three forcefields. Patients might be suffering from severe exposure to baryonic radiation.”
“May I take my leave?” Eknath asked.
“Of course,” Scott said. “I’ll join you. Terrence, I want you and Gart to pick this ship and its database apart. I want to know what happened here.” She said, as deadpan as possible.
Glover nodded tightly. “You’ll have an answer,” he promised. Scott resisted the weary, knowing smile threatening to break out on her face. She bit down on her lip and sharply nodded.
“Get on it,” she ordered, before beaming away from the dead ship.
****************
USS Renegade
Sickbay
Captain Scott beamed into chaos. Her bulky EVA suit absorbed much of the impact as a body slammed into her, knocking her against a wall. She slid to the floor, an unconscious body lying on top of her.
“You’ve killed us all!” She heard the Klingon roar, before another body landed beside her with a hard thud. Tryla saw that it was one of the medical staff. She struggled to push the insensate person off her and regain her footing, the suit restricting her movement.
By the time she had navigated back to her feet, a full security team had entered Sickbay, with Commander Holmes leading the charge. They circled the enraged Klingon. The fierce warrior wasn’t giving any ground. He waved a wicked looking dagger at the team. Though Tryla had no doubt that Holmes was more than capable of handling the wild-eyed Klingon, she wished she had brought Gart back with her. The Nausicaan could easily match this Klingon’s strength and ferocity.
“Commander Ch’ran!” Holmes rich baritone boomed. “Stand down!” Ch’ran snarled.
“Don’t you realize what you’ve done?” He asked, his voice bordering on hysteria. He pointed past Holmes to the three beds holding the Bonaventure survivors enshrouded by forcefields. “I overheard your medics; those three are from the Bonaventure. They are Jat’yln! They are possessed!”
“Stand down!” Holmes repeated, even more firmly than before.
“I will never be taken, used by them,” he spat, before charging the security team. It took several beams to bring the Klingon down. Tryla watched in horror as the warrior plunged his blade deep into Holmes’s shoulder before he staggered to the deck.
As the security team rushed to secure the fallen Klingon, Holmes waved away the medical staff and directed them to attend to the other wounded first. Scott went to him. She winced as she saw the injury up close. “It’s nothing,” Holmes replied with bravado. “A nick is what we would call it back home in Nashville,” he grinned, though the macho gesture didn’t fully disguise the pained expression on the man’s face nor his labored breath. The grin quickly morphed into a scowl. He lowered his head and his voice, and pulled her close to him. “What’s really going on here Tryla?” He rarely called her by name, even though she had given him license a long time ago. “I would really like to be let into this loop.”
The captain sighed. How could she justify keeping Fred out any longer? The hilt sticking out of his shoulder was proof enough that not only could he be trusted, but that he could handle himself, and she needed someone to confide in, someone to carry the burden of the secret. “As soon as you get that dagger out of you, meet me in my ready room.”
****************
USS Bonaventure
Battle Bridge
The away team materialized in a blaze of light on the dim battle bridge. A string of emergency lights spread throughout the bulkheads wanly fought against the murkiness. Everyone except the captain immediately whipped out their tricorders and began to scan. Captain Scott went straight to the man splayed over the command chair.
She gasped, “Captain Sipe.” There was a large, wet, ragged hole in the middle of his chest, surrounded by the familiar burn marks of a phaser set to kill.
“Who could’ve done this?” Dr. Eknath asked.
“The more important question is why did they even bother?” Glover said. “The baryonic radiation levels suffusing the bridge are almost off the scale. If not for our EVA suits we’d already be showing signs of sickness.” The captain glanced at Eknath for confirmation. The Saurian nodded in agreement, his frown noticeable even through his suit’s thick visor.
“It appears that radiation sickness killed the rest of the bridge crew,” Gart concluded. Scott nodded, oddly, inappropriately amazed that they actually had an environmental suit large enough for the Nausicaan. It was a stupid thing to be considering now, but much better than accepting the truth. The alien parasites had gotten to Ryan Sipe just like they had murdered Karapleedeez and McKinney.
Admiral Quinn had been right after all. Though she had thrown in her lot with him and a few other officers months ago, she still held out a crazy hope that it was all just the ramblings of a well meaning, but senile admiral. But if that had been the case Captains Keel and Rixx wouldn’t have joined this cabal, nor would Walker be actually considering bringing in Captain Picard from the Enterprise.
As much as she respected Picard, Tryla was doubtful that widening the circle was a good move; it just opened the door for an infiltrator to enter their ranks and destroy them from within. Then again, the parasites seemed to be doing that already. So far, the cabal’s numbers had been shorn in half, with three talented officers, and many of their crews dying under “mysterious” circumstances.
She was certain that Gart’s investigation would yield nothing exposing the true culprits of this tragedy. But she couldn’t let him know that, not yet. Right now, she wasn’t sure who she could fully trust, even among her own staff, and Tryla hated herself for feeling that way.
“Captain,” Glover’s concerned voice intruded on her brooding. “It’s Chief Doyle.”
The captain activated her combadge. “Go ahead Chief,” she instructed her chief engineer.
“Captain, you’re not going to believe this,” the typically brusque woman said with uncharacteristic restraint.
“Never know till you try me,” Scott tried to joke.
“We’ve got survivors, three in fact, but they’re not doing well.”
“Alright, prepare them for beam out,” the captain ordered. She contacted Renegade. “Prepare for emergency beam in to Sickbay. Set up three level three forcefields. Patients might be suffering from severe exposure to baryonic radiation.”
“May I take my leave?” Eknath asked.
“Of course,” Scott said. “I’ll join you. Terrence, I want you and Gart to pick this ship and its database apart. I want to know what happened here.” She said, as deadpan as possible.
Glover nodded tightly. “You’ll have an answer,” he promised. Scott resisted the weary, knowing smile threatening to break out on her face. She bit down on her lip and sharply nodded.
“Get on it,” she ordered, before beaming away from the dead ship.
****************
USS Renegade
Sickbay
Captain Scott beamed into chaos. Her bulky EVA suit absorbed much of the impact as a body slammed into her, knocking her against a wall. She slid to the floor, an unconscious body lying on top of her.
“You’ve killed us all!” She heard the Klingon roar, before another body landed beside her with a hard thud. Tryla saw that it was one of the medical staff. She struggled to push the insensate person off her and regain her footing, the suit restricting her movement.
By the time she had navigated back to her feet, a full security team had entered Sickbay, with Commander Holmes leading the charge. They circled the enraged Klingon. The fierce warrior wasn’t giving any ground. He waved a wicked looking dagger at the team. Though Tryla had no doubt that Holmes was more than capable of handling the wild-eyed Klingon, she wished she had brought Gart back with her. The Nausicaan could easily match this Klingon’s strength and ferocity.
“Commander Ch’ran!” Holmes rich baritone boomed. “Stand down!” Ch’ran snarled.
“Don’t you realize what you’ve done?” He asked, his voice bordering on hysteria. He pointed past Holmes to the three beds holding the Bonaventure survivors enshrouded by forcefields. “I overheard your medics; those three are from the Bonaventure. They are Jat’yln! They are possessed!”
“Stand down!” Holmes repeated, even more firmly than before.
“I will never be taken, used by them,” he spat, before charging the security team. It took several beams to bring the Klingon down. Tryla watched in horror as the warrior plunged his blade deep into Holmes’s shoulder before he staggered to the deck.
As the security team rushed to secure the fallen Klingon, Holmes waved away the medical staff and directed them to attend to the other wounded first. Scott went to him. She winced as she saw the injury up close. “It’s nothing,” Holmes replied with bravado. “A nick is what we would call it back home in Nashville,” he grinned, though the macho gesture didn’t fully disguise the pained expression on the man’s face nor his labored breath. The grin quickly morphed into a scowl. He lowered his head and his voice, and pulled her close to him. “What’s really going on here Tryla?” He rarely called her by name, even though she had given him license a long time ago. “I would really like to be let into this loop.”
The captain sighed. How could she justify keeping Fred out any longer? The hilt sticking out of his shoulder was proof enough that not only could he be trusted, but that he could handle himself, and she needed someone to confide in, someone to carry the burden of the secret. “As soon as you get that dagger out of you, meet me in my ready room.”
****************
****************
USS Renegade
Ready Room
Captain Scott listened half-heartedly as Terrence finished his report. “Summing it up,” he began, “it appears that the Bonaventure received multiple hull perforations during the battle with the Klingons, resulting in the influx of the baryon particles throughout the ship. This patch of space is ripe with the baryon particles. From the Bonaventure’s records, the ship was a month away from its scheduled baryon sweep, so the ship was coated with them. It appears that the Bonaventure separated to perhaps stem the flow of the particles or to increase their chances of survival, but obviously that strategy didn’t work.”
“Good job Mr. Glover,” Scott said, maintaining her silence about what she thought might’ve really caused the demise of the Bonaventure.
“What seems odd to me is how did a B’Rel-class scout ship best a Galaxy? With all respect to the dead, I can’t see a Galaxy crew, or any Starfleet crew being so incompetent as to allow that to happen….well maybe the Border Service,” The operations officer said with a brunt honesty that rankled Tryla.
“Show some respect Terrence,” she chided. The rebuke jolted him. His bearing became even more rigid.
“I’m sorry captain, it’s just…”
“Save it,” she snapped. “Did it occur to you that perhaps the Klingons had help?” She asked, regretting her words.
“Well, actually it did,” Glover replied. “I was thinking that maybe several Klingon warships had attacked the Bonaventure. Gart and I have already begun exploring that scenario.” He concluded smartly, pleased with himself.
“Nice show of initiative,” Scott praised a bit too lavishly, happy that Terrence hadn’t picked up on what she really had meant.
The door chimed. “Who is it?” The captain asked.
“It’s Commander Holmes sir,” Fred drawled.
“Enter.” The large man strolled in, in perfect health and a new uniform. He nodded stiffly at Lt. Glover. The younger man just as stiffly returned the acknowledgement. “You’re excused Mr. Glover.” Terrence glanced back at her, questions and resistance in his gaze, but Tryla wasn’t in the mood for entertaining any of that. “Dismissed,” she said sharply.
After Terrence left, taking a cold front with him, Fred settled down in one of the seats facing her desk. “What’s going on Tryla?” He asked.
She directed his gaze to the screen inset in a wall beside her aquarium. She activated the screen, and the golden Federation emblem gave way to a very old, yet spry man. “Captain Scott,” he acknowledged, before switching his gaze. “And Commander Holmes, I don’t think we’ve had the honor.”
“No sir, we have not,” Holmes said.
“Admiral Gregory Quinn,” he warmly replied.
“Bonaventure has been destroyed,” Scott said with preamble. Quinn grimaced.
“Damn, I hoped you could’ve gotten to them in time,” he said.
“Admiral what we’re they doing in the Mekagh Triangle?” She asked.
“There were rumors that the infestation had even reached the Klingon Empire,” Quinn said. “Captain Sipe had been dispatched to acquire data about the parasite infiltration from the So’taj, Klingon Imperial Intelligence. It appears that our enemies laid a trap for him. It’s a shame….all those lives lost.”
“Not all,” Scott said. “There were three survivors, and one from the Klingon vessel.”
Quinn’s expression switched from sadness to fright. “Captain, you’ve got to quarantine those people immediately.”
“The Bonaventure people are in Sickbay, and the Klingon, a Commander Ch’ran, is in the brig. I’ll go into details about that later.”
“I trust in your ability to handle the situation, but please be careful, and limit the contact of your crew with both the Klingon and the Bonaventure personnel, until you know for certain they aren’t infected.”
“Yes sir,” Scott said.
“Despite your misgivings, Captain Picard has agreed to meet with us at Dytallix B, in the Mira Antliae system. You are to proceed there at once. I suggest you maintain radio silence until you reach Dytallix B. Only take messages from one of us.”
“I understand,” Scott said. Quinn nodded and smiled before switching off the link.
“Well, I don’t understand,” Holmes replied. “What was that all about?”
***************
USS Renegade
Ready Room
Captain Scott listened half-heartedly as Terrence finished his report. “Summing it up,” he began, “it appears that the Bonaventure received multiple hull perforations during the battle with the Klingons, resulting in the influx of the baryon particles throughout the ship. This patch of space is ripe with the baryon particles. From the Bonaventure’s records, the ship was a month away from its scheduled baryon sweep, so the ship was coated with them. It appears that the Bonaventure separated to perhaps stem the flow of the particles or to increase their chances of survival, but obviously that strategy didn’t work.”
“Good job Mr. Glover,” Scott said, maintaining her silence about what she thought might’ve really caused the demise of the Bonaventure.
“What seems odd to me is how did a B’Rel-class scout ship best a Galaxy? With all respect to the dead, I can’t see a Galaxy crew, or any Starfleet crew being so incompetent as to allow that to happen….well maybe the Border Service,” The operations officer said with a brunt honesty that rankled Tryla.
“Show some respect Terrence,” she chided. The rebuke jolted him. His bearing became even more rigid.
“I’m sorry captain, it’s just…”
“Save it,” she snapped. “Did it occur to you that perhaps the Klingons had help?” She asked, regretting her words.
“Well, actually it did,” Glover replied. “I was thinking that maybe several Klingon warships had attacked the Bonaventure. Gart and I have already begun exploring that scenario.” He concluded smartly, pleased with himself.
“Nice show of initiative,” Scott praised a bit too lavishly, happy that Terrence hadn’t picked up on what she really had meant.
The door chimed. “Who is it?” The captain asked.
“It’s Commander Holmes sir,” Fred drawled.
“Enter.” The large man strolled in, in perfect health and a new uniform. He nodded stiffly at Lt. Glover. The younger man just as stiffly returned the acknowledgement. “You’re excused Mr. Glover.” Terrence glanced back at her, questions and resistance in his gaze, but Tryla wasn’t in the mood for entertaining any of that. “Dismissed,” she said sharply.
After Terrence left, taking a cold front with him, Fred settled down in one of the seats facing her desk. “What’s going on Tryla?” He asked.
She directed his gaze to the screen inset in a wall beside her aquarium. She activated the screen, and the golden Federation emblem gave way to a very old, yet spry man. “Captain Scott,” he acknowledged, before switching his gaze. “And Commander Holmes, I don’t think we’ve had the honor.”
“No sir, we have not,” Holmes said.
“Admiral Gregory Quinn,” he warmly replied.
“Bonaventure has been destroyed,” Scott said with preamble. Quinn grimaced.
“Damn, I hoped you could’ve gotten to them in time,” he said.
“Admiral what we’re they doing in the Mekagh Triangle?” She asked.
“There were rumors that the infestation had even reached the Klingon Empire,” Quinn said. “Captain Sipe had been dispatched to acquire data about the parasite infiltration from the So’taj, Klingon Imperial Intelligence. It appears that our enemies laid a trap for him. It’s a shame….all those lives lost.”
“Not all,” Scott said. “There were three survivors, and one from the Klingon vessel.”
Quinn’s expression switched from sadness to fright. “Captain, you’ve got to quarantine those people immediately.”
“The Bonaventure people are in Sickbay, and the Klingon, a Commander Ch’ran, is in the brig. I’ll go into details about that later.”
“I trust in your ability to handle the situation, but please be careful, and limit the contact of your crew with both the Klingon and the Bonaventure personnel, until you know for certain they aren’t infected.”
“Yes sir,” Scott said.
“Despite your misgivings, Captain Picard has agreed to meet with us at Dytallix B, in the Mira Antliae system. You are to proceed there at once. I suggest you maintain radio silence until you reach Dytallix B. Only take messages from one of us.”
“I understand,” Scott said. Quinn nodded and smiled before switching off the link.
“Well, I don’t understand,” Holmes replied. “What was that all about?”
***************
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***************
USS Renegade
Recreation Center
“Your form still needs work,” Sarhana replied. She swatted the air with her racket. “You’re movements have got to be more graceful.”
“I’m not in the mood for another hoverball lesson right now,” Terrence said, shoving his racket into his bag. He roughly wiped the sweat from his face.
“I don’t think you were much in the mood for a game at all,” Sarhana surmised. “So, why did you challenge me to a match?”
“I…don’t know,” Terrence admitted. “I just wanted to expend some energy I guess, work something out of my system.”
“And that would be?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he curtly replied. Sarhana whistled, a gesture expressing exasperation on her home planet.
“Humans are so transparent,” she concluded, prompting a smile from Glover.
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” she answered, before slipping her own racket into her bag. She slid the bag over her shoulder and came over to Terrence, invading his personal space, though he didn’t mind the intrusion. Her lips nearly touching his, she said softly, “Humans always say they don’t want to do the thing they want to do, so spill it.”
“All right,” he sighed. “I just feel that there is more going on with this Bonaventure situation and the captain knows, but isn’t sharing.”
Sarhana sagely nodded. “Perhaps.”
“And don’t you find that unsettling?” Glover asked.
“Not really, no,” Sarhana said, adding, “In the Phalkerian Domain authority figures are never questioned.”
“We aren’t in the Phalkerian Domain,” Terrence pointed out. Sarhana smiled.
“And you should be thankful for that, because if we were Commander Holmes would’ve disposed of you long ago.”
“Don’t think he hasn’t been trying,” Glover countered.
“Terrence, I don’t think Holmes’s criticism is that fatal,” Sarhana replied.
“Maybe, but it sure feels like I’m on his chopping block sometimes,” Terrence admitted.
“You make people uneasy, there’s nothing wrong with that,” the Phalkerian said. “You keep people on their toes, make them up their game.”
“Is that right?” Glover grinned. “You really think so?”
“Yes,” Sarhana said, leaning even closer. Her lips brushed against his. He turned away.
“Sarhana, we can’t do this.”
“Why not? You find me attractive do you not?” She stepped away from him. Unable to stop from looking, he took in her shapely, statuesque form, the skintight yellow leotard creating a nice clash with her lavender skin.
“I can’t,” he weakly replied.
“The rumors really are true, aren’t they?” She asked, her eyebrows knitting with concern.
“What rumors?”
“You and the captain,” Sarhana replied.
“What about me and the captain?” His voice filled with dread.
“It’s true,” Sarhana said, “Don’t deny it.”
“Sarhana…” Glover began.
“This was a mistake,” the Phalkerian said. “I apologize.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Terrence said. “Let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” Sarhana said. “You and the captain are both adults. You should be allowed to fraternize without fear of reprisal. It is to the detriment of Starfleet that many others do not share my view. Your secret is safe with me.”
“What secret?” Terrence asked, exasperated. “I haven’t ‘admitted’ to anything.”
“You don’t have to,” Sarhana revealed. “That fact that my question left you speechless is answer enough. It takes a lot to hold your tongue.”
“Good one,” Glover said, with a sigh.
“Just be careful,” Sarhana said. “I respect the captain, but realize that she worked very hard to achieve her position, the youngest captain in Starfleet. Her career means a great deal to her. Please don’t place yourself into a position where it will force her to choose between you or it, because you might not like the answer.”
“There’s nothing going on between the captain and me,” Glover lied. “She’s my superior officer, nothing more.”
“Good one,” Sarhana laughed. “Just remember what I said, okay?”
Terrence nodded. “You got it. After we freshen up, care to share a drink with me at the lounge?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Sarhana replied.
“A plan that will have to be placed on hold,” Commander Holmes’s voice boomed from the entrance of the recreation room. Terrence fought hard to hide his frown and his fear. He wondered how long the First Officer had been standing in the doorway, and how much he had heard and seen of his exchange with Sarhana. “I need you both on the bridge.”
“Yes sir,” both of the officers replied, almost in unison.
***************
USS Renegade
Detention Center
On Fred’s urging, Tryla had brought Gart into the cabal as well. Now the three of them stood outside the holding cell staring at Commander Ch’ran. The Klingon stared back at them. “Come to try to finish me off,” he challenged.
“No,” Captain Scott stepped forward. “We’re here for answers. We want to know why you attacked the Bonaventure.”
“Ha,” Ch’ran laughed. “The Bonaventure attacked us.”
“I don’t believe it,” Holmes replied.
“I don’t care what you believe human,” Ch’ran said. Gart growled in response. “Nor you Nausicaan targ,” the Klingon laughed.
“Insults will get us nowhere,” Scott said.
“There’s ‘nowhere’ for me to go,” Ch’ran said. “My crew is dead, my ship lost, and you denied me the honor of dying in combat, preventing me from reaching Sto’Vo’Kor, so there is nothing for me now.”
“What about the truth? Why did the Bonaventure attack you?”
“Because of those things, those creatures,” Ch’ran said, his nostrils twitching in disgust. “They had infiltrated the crew, and they were trying to stop us.”
“Stop you, from what?” Holmes asked.
“The So’taj had uncovered information about neural parasites attempting to subvert Starfleet. They also had attempted to do the same thing to the Defense Force.” Scott gasped, prompting Ch’ran to nod. “Yes, it’s true, but we stopped them, and Chancellor K’mpec wanted to share what we had learned in the interest of friendship. Admiral Quinn had told us that the captain of the Bonaventure could be trusted, but the parasites must have gotten to them.”
“So, you destroyed the Bonaventure?”
“No,” Ch’ran said. “If I had, my admission to Sto’Vo’Kor would not be in doubt. We engaged with the vessel and then sought to escape to warn the Empire, but the damage we had incurred had severely hindered our efforts.”
“And then we showed up, and you thought we had come to finish Bonaventure’s job?” Scott asked.
Ch’ran nodded. “As far as I knew, the parasites had succeeded in overtaking Starfleet and it was my duty to inform the Empire to prepare for possible hostilities.”
“That doesn’t explain the Bonaventure’s destruction,” Gart pointed out. Ch’ran grinned.
“We did inflict some damage on the vessel,” he boasted, “but not enough to destroy it. Mysteriously, but fortunately for us, the shields failed at an opportune moment erasing the Bonaventure’s tactical advantages. It is quite possible a mutiny broke out on the ship, and coupled with the strikes we made against it, doomed that crew.”
“That is plausible,” Gart grudgingly said after a few minutes thought.
“Yeah it is,” Scott admitted.
“So, do you still have the information?” Holmes asked.
“Yes,” Ch’ran said. He yanked a long strand of hair out of his head. He held it aloft. “This is a polymer strand with our information about the parasites. Lower the forcefield and I will give it to you.” Tryla nodded at Gart. The Nausicaan lumbered over to the control board and lowered the shield. Holmes reached for the phaser at his hip, but Scott stayed his hand.
She outstretched her palm and Ch’ran dropped the strand into it. He attempted to cross the threshold, but Tryla told him to stop. “Why?” the Klingon demanded.
“The crew might be unsettled by you walking freely about,” the captain said. “We are the only ones privy to this information and we don’t want to alarm them, so for the time being you will remain in the brig.”
“This is an outrage!” Ch’ran thundered.
“No, it’s a reality,” Scott shot back. “Raise the field.” The Klingon bellowed and jumped at the captain, smacking into the forcefield instead. The jolt sent him flying into the cell’s wall. He shakily got back on his feet. “You’ll pay for this insult.”
“That sounds like a walk in the park compared to what we’re up against now,” the captain rejoined. “But thanks for the data. We’ll make sure to put it to good use.”
[FONT='Times New Roman']****************[/FONT]
USS Renegade
Recreation Center
“Your form still needs work,” Sarhana replied. She swatted the air with her racket. “You’re movements have got to be more graceful.”
“I’m not in the mood for another hoverball lesson right now,” Terrence said, shoving his racket into his bag. He roughly wiped the sweat from his face.
“I don’t think you were much in the mood for a game at all,” Sarhana surmised. “So, why did you challenge me to a match?”
“I…don’t know,” Terrence admitted. “I just wanted to expend some energy I guess, work something out of my system.”
“And that would be?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he curtly replied. Sarhana whistled, a gesture expressing exasperation on her home planet.
“Humans are so transparent,” she concluded, prompting a smile from Glover.
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” she answered, before slipping her own racket into her bag. She slid the bag over her shoulder and came over to Terrence, invading his personal space, though he didn’t mind the intrusion. Her lips nearly touching his, she said softly, “Humans always say they don’t want to do the thing they want to do, so spill it.”
“All right,” he sighed. “I just feel that there is more going on with this Bonaventure situation and the captain knows, but isn’t sharing.”
Sarhana sagely nodded. “Perhaps.”
“And don’t you find that unsettling?” Glover asked.
“Not really, no,” Sarhana said, adding, “In the Phalkerian Domain authority figures are never questioned.”
“We aren’t in the Phalkerian Domain,” Terrence pointed out. Sarhana smiled.
“And you should be thankful for that, because if we were Commander Holmes would’ve disposed of you long ago.”
“Don’t think he hasn’t been trying,” Glover countered.
“Terrence, I don’t think Holmes’s criticism is that fatal,” Sarhana replied.
“Maybe, but it sure feels like I’m on his chopping block sometimes,” Terrence admitted.
“You make people uneasy, there’s nothing wrong with that,” the Phalkerian said. “You keep people on their toes, make them up their game.”
“Is that right?” Glover grinned. “You really think so?”
“Yes,” Sarhana said, leaning even closer. Her lips brushed against his. He turned away.
“Sarhana, we can’t do this.”
“Why not? You find me attractive do you not?” She stepped away from him. Unable to stop from looking, he took in her shapely, statuesque form, the skintight yellow leotard creating a nice clash with her lavender skin.
“I can’t,” he weakly replied.
“The rumors really are true, aren’t they?” She asked, her eyebrows knitting with concern.
“What rumors?”
“You and the captain,” Sarhana replied.
“What about me and the captain?” His voice filled with dread.
“It’s true,” Sarhana said, “Don’t deny it.”
“Sarhana…” Glover began.
“This was a mistake,” the Phalkerian said. “I apologize.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Terrence said. “Let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” Sarhana said. “You and the captain are both adults. You should be allowed to fraternize without fear of reprisal. It is to the detriment of Starfleet that many others do not share my view. Your secret is safe with me.”
“What secret?” Terrence asked, exasperated. “I haven’t ‘admitted’ to anything.”
“You don’t have to,” Sarhana revealed. “That fact that my question left you speechless is answer enough. It takes a lot to hold your tongue.”
“Good one,” Glover said, with a sigh.
“Just be careful,” Sarhana said. “I respect the captain, but realize that she worked very hard to achieve her position, the youngest captain in Starfleet. Her career means a great deal to her. Please don’t place yourself into a position where it will force her to choose between you or it, because you might not like the answer.”
“There’s nothing going on between the captain and me,” Glover lied. “She’s my superior officer, nothing more.”
“Good one,” Sarhana laughed. “Just remember what I said, okay?”
Terrence nodded. “You got it. After we freshen up, care to share a drink with me at the lounge?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Sarhana replied.
“A plan that will have to be placed on hold,” Commander Holmes’s voice boomed from the entrance of the recreation room. Terrence fought hard to hide his frown and his fear. He wondered how long the First Officer had been standing in the doorway, and how much he had heard and seen of his exchange with Sarhana. “I need you both on the bridge.”
“Yes sir,” both of the officers replied, almost in unison.
***************
USS Renegade
Detention Center
On Fred’s urging, Tryla had brought Gart into the cabal as well. Now the three of them stood outside the holding cell staring at Commander Ch’ran. The Klingon stared back at them. “Come to try to finish me off,” he challenged.
“No,” Captain Scott stepped forward. “We’re here for answers. We want to know why you attacked the Bonaventure.”
“Ha,” Ch’ran laughed. “The Bonaventure attacked us.”
“I don’t believe it,” Holmes replied.
“I don’t care what you believe human,” Ch’ran said. Gart growled in response. “Nor you Nausicaan targ,” the Klingon laughed.
“Insults will get us nowhere,” Scott said.
“There’s ‘nowhere’ for me to go,” Ch’ran said. “My crew is dead, my ship lost, and you denied me the honor of dying in combat, preventing me from reaching Sto’Vo’Kor, so there is nothing for me now.”
“What about the truth? Why did the Bonaventure attack you?”
“Because of those things, those creatures,” Ch’ran said, his nostrils twitching in disgust. “They had infiltrated the crew, and they were trying to stop us.”
“Stop you, from what?” Holmes asked.
“The So’taj had uncovered information about neural parasites attempting to subvert Starfleet. They also had attempted to do the same thing to the Defense Force.” Scott gasped, prompting Ch’ran to nod. “Yes, it’s true, but we stopped them, and Chancellor K’mpec wanted to share what we had learned in the interest of friendship. Admiral Quinn had told us that the captain of the Bonaventure could be trusted, but the parasites must have gotten to them.”
“So, you destroyed the Bonaventure?”
“No,” Ch’ran said. “If I had, my admission to Sto’Vo’Kor would not be in doubt. We engaged with the vessel and then sought to escape to warn the Empire, but the damage we had incurred had severely hindered our efforts.”
“And then we showed up, and you thought we had come to finish Bonaventure’s job?” Scott asked.
Ch’ran nodded. “As far as I knew, the parasites had succeeded in overtaking Starfleet and it was my duty to inform the Empire to prepare for possible hostilities.”
“That doesn’t explain the Bonaventure’s destruction,” Gart pointed out. Ch’ran grinned.
“We did inflict some damage on the vessel,” he boasted, “but not enough to destroy it. Mysteriously, but fortunately for us, the shields failed at an opportune moment erasing the Bonaventure’s tactical advantages. It is quite possible a mutiny broke out on the ship, and coupled with the strikes we made against it, doomed that crew.”
“That is plausible,” Gart grudgingly said after a few minutes thought.
“Yeah it is,” Scott admitted.
“So, do you still have the information?” Holmes asked.
“Yes,” Ch’ran said. He yanked a long strand of hair out of his head. He held it aloft. “This is a polymer strand with our information about the parasites. Lower the forcefield and I will give it to you.” Tryla nodded at Gart. The Nausicaan lumbered over to the control board and lowered the shield. Holmes reached for the phaser at his hip, but Scott stayed his hand.
She outstretched her palm and Ch’ran dropped the strand into it. He attempted to cross the threshold, but Tryla told him to stop. “Why?” the Klingon demanded.
“The crew might be unsettled by you walking freely about,” the captain said. “We are the only ones privy to this information and we don’t want to alarm them, so for the time being you will remain in the brig.”
“This is an outrage!” Ch’ran thundered.
“No, it’s a reality,” Scott shot back. “Raise the field.” The Klingon bellowed and jumped at the captain, smacking into the forcefield instead. The jolt sent him flying into the cell’s wall. He shakily got back on his feet. “You’ll pay for this insult.”
“That sounds like a walk in the park compared to what we’re up against now,” the captain rejoined. “But thanks for the data. We’ll make sure to put it to good use.”
[FONT='Times New Roman']****************[/FONT]
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I've always been curious about this story. I believe you alluded to it a couple of times in other stories. 'Conspiracy' had an awesome concept which I believe was ultimately to dark for the tone TNG wanted to strike. Perfectly at home then in Dark Territory.
I'm looking forward to see how this develops. I won't count on a happy ending.
I'm looking forward to see how this develops. I won't count on a happy ending.
I too am looking forward to how this story unfolds. The parasite storyline was one that I've always regretted that TNG never really followed up on--it had so much potential. I'm glad you're picking up the ball and running with it, DarKush.
Hey! HEY!
Yeah! What SHE said!
Seriously, this is a great story and I'm enjoying it immensely! Your character work is really well done! I echo the sentiments that this was a TNG story line that needed expanding. I'm glad you decided to carry the ball!
I always wondered why there was no follow-up. I suspect the producers felt it was outside of "normal" Trek stories. I like what you are doing even if I still find Glover..."distasteful".
There is a darkness here that almost reminds me of the Shadows in B5. Its a sense of menace that you convey very well.
There is a darkness here that almost reminds me of the Shadows in B5. Its a sense of menace that you convey very well.
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