Dark Territory: The Needs of the One (Redux)

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Eight

****

USS Cuffe
(Main Bridge)


Lt. Nyota Dryer’s attention was torn between the closed doors to the observation lounge, located aft, and the command well where Lt. Hardcastle manned the conn.

Nyota had been avoiding the Flight Control Officer for the entire shift. She could tell by his tense posture that her cold shouldering had upset him, but Dryer didn’t know what to do, or how to tell him that she and the captain was an item again.

Only a handful of the present crew knew about their previous relationship, and they were all discrete. That had been helpful when Terrence had first decided to end their dalliances. She hadn’t become the laughing stock of the ship, or totally felt like she had a red brand on her forehead.

But it had felt that way all the same. The captain’s desire to dissolve their relationship had hurt her deeply, and in her pain and desperation, in her need to feel wanted, she had reached out to Lt. Hardcastle, and he had responded.

In all honesty, she hadn’t led him on. She had never demanded a commitment from him, or even insinuated one like she had with the captain. When she needed not to be alone she called Shane, and he had been very nice to her, a thoughtful, caring friend. The problem was he wanted to be more than a friend to her.

But the pilot wasn’t who Dryer wanted. On one level she thought herself crazy for not taking up Shane on his offer. In addition to being a kind person, the lieutenant was very handsome. A lithe, but muscular man, with dark spiky hair, equally inky almond shaped eyes, and a smooth pale yellowish complexion.

Nyota just couldn’t shake her feelings for Captain Glover. Her gaze wandered from her station back to conference room. The captain was conducting a meeting with the department heads to check the ship’s readiness again.

Though she understood Terrence’s desire to make sure the crew would be ready for what awaited them, Nyota felt that he had been pushing everyone a bit too hard. What she thought the crew needed was less tension, not more. She hadn’t been able to secure some alone time with the captain since last night to voice her concerns unfortunately.

Thinking about Terrence unknotted memories of their time together last night. Nyota didn’t catch her smile before Shane did.

He was turned around in the captain’s chair, a questioning look on his face. “Care to share the thoughts behind that smile?” He asked.

Dryer’s expression immediately turned serious. She made a show of scouring the tactical console display. “Just happy we’re still in one piece sir.”

Hardcastle pursed his lips, his expression disbelieving, but before he could reply, Ensign Sophia Detmer at Ops said, “Sir, I’m picking up a subspace variance aft of the ship on ship’s sensor.” Dryer was relieved that Hardcastle, Detmer, and Hajar had seemed to have forgotten the incident a couple nights ago. The bridge operated with a chilled air of detached professionalism.

Hardcastle turned toward the young woman while Dryer attuned her tactical sensors to the Ops console. There was a small, winking ripple on the small inset screen.

“Can you identify it?” Hardcastle walked quickly over to the Ops terminal. He placed a hand firmly against Detmer’s headrest.

“No sir,” Detmer said, bending down to stare at the readings scrolling down the flat screen.

“Think it’s a cloaked vessel Lt. Dryer?” Hardcastle glanced in Dryer’s direction. Nyota stared again at the fuzzy image on her console. She shook her head, apprehension tightening her stomach.

“It could be,” was the best she could muster.

“Romulan cloaks have been known to radiate a minute subspace variance at warp speed,” Detmer said. “If a Romulan cloak is tracking us they would have to be at warp to keep up with Petty Officer Hajar,” the woman said with a tension-breaking smile at her roommate.

“Nice one Egghead,” The vivacious brunette sitting adjacent to Detmer, turned around enough so that Nyota could see her wink at Lt. Hardcastle, before laughing softly. Dryer was surprised that her face grew warm with an ember of jealousy. She had discouraged Hardcastle’s entreaties, so she couldn’t quite understand why she felt funny now, especially at such an important time, that another woman was flirting with him. Perhaps it was because Hajar’s gesture was as inappropriate as her arm wrapped around Shane’s shoulders in the hallway a couple days ago, she told herself, and damn near believed it.

Hardcastle wisely chose not to engage. Instead he tapped his compin. “Captain Glover, please come to bridge.”

“Acknowledged,” was the curt reply. Seconds later, Glover, bounded through the conference room door, followed by his father and the rest of the senior staff. Dryer reluctantly gave up her position at Tactical to her superior, Lt. Meldin, and the other auxiliary officers did the same.

Some of them went to other work stations on the bridge. Dryer tried to hang around a few seconds to see how Captain Glover would respond to Hardcastle’s news. But the anal Meldin would have none of that.

“Lt. Dryer,” the Benzite said crisply, “You need to resume your post in Security.” She nodded, grinding her teeth.

Walking as slowly as possible to the turbolift, Dryer had one foot placed across the threshold before she heard the klaxon.
*****

IRC K’Met
(Main Bridge)

Tactical Officer Vatia whipped around from her terminal. “Subcommander, the Cuffe has dropped out of warp, raised its shields, and powered up its weapon’s banks!”

“Full stop,” Subcommander Avita leaned forward in her seat as soon as the ship came to a complete stop. “Has the cloak been penetrated?”

The Sensor Officer, a wizened Centurion named Fentane, replied succinctly, “It’s possible.”

“That’s the best you can do?” Avita frowned.

“The cloak is operating within parameters,” Fentane remarked, “but it is a common occurrence for the cloak to emit a subspace variance at warp, and we have been overtaxing our engines to keep up with the Federation vessel. Perhaps this assignment should’ve been tasked to a warbird,” the old man added with a snort, “and not this old ranctor.”

“Don’t think I’m up to the task?” Avita asked sweetly, her eyes colder than space.

“You are more than capable,” Fentane said, “and you deserve a better posting than this battle cruiser.”

“There’ll be promotions all around if we can defeat a Federation starship,” Avita said confidently.

“But I thought our orders were not to engage?” Fentane asked. Before Avita answered, Vatia said:

“Federation vessel has turned around, and they have begun an intensive gravitic sweep of the immediate area.”

“On screen,” Avita said. The curved bow of the Nebula-class starship faced them, the module hanging over the main saucer staring at Avita like a great, accursed eye. “Have we been detected?”

“Not yet, but the scans will reach us in less than five minutes,” Vatia replied.

“We have a few seconds to attempt to back out of range,” Fentane suggested.

“Power up the forward weapon arrays,” Avita ignored the recommendation, a predatory smile inching across her face. “Let’s surprise them before they can do the same to us.”
****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Nine

****

CHAPTER NINE


Aranthka IX


Ousanas Dar couldn’t believe his eyes. A young unidentified Vulcanoid woman swam before his blurry vision, whispering words to him in an ancient tongue he hadn’t heard spoken since leaving T’Karath after a misguided attempt to attain kolinahr.

He could barely decipher the woman’s words, but felt her hands running gingerly across his bare torso. He winced as she patted his side. Dar craned his neck to see the side wound he had received during the melee was now matted with leaves, stuck together by some dark substance that burned slightly, but it was a pleasant, cleansing burn.

“Thank you,” he mumbled through cracked lips, repeating the phrase in Old High Vulcan after the woman looked at him in confusion. She nodded and smiled.

“Who?” He started raise up, but she gently held him down by grasping his shoulders.

“Now is not your time, and you will need your rest,” she said, her soft dark eyes radiating concern.

“Rest?” Dar asked, before a soul shivering scream robbed him of speech. He sat up quickly, his head immediately growing woozy. The woman eased him back down.

“No,” he protested weakly, “What? Who?”

“Ssssh,” she cooed. “It’s not your time.” Her touch was feather-light on his left temple. A soft mental push sent him back into the darkness.
****


Shanra didn’t know if she would ever stop crying. She wiped away fresh tears as she walked cautiously through the jungle, clutching the disruptor she had used against her own husband in a death grip.

She had been weak. Prison had broken her, the months of confinement, substandard food, the threat of imminent trial and execution. Even worse was the loss of her social standing, and the suspicion that would taint her parents for her ‘crimes’ against the state. They had gotten to her, and she had made a deal with them.

Assist Senator Telaan in escaping which would damn the popular woman in the public arena, but carry a subcutaneous beacon that could keep the Senator within tracking distance. They had promised her that both she and Narvek would be spared, their positions restored, and her husband would never learn of her role in condemning his mother.

Shanra had tried to assuage her guilt by convincing herself that she hadn’t made the deal with the Tal Shiar for her own selfish needs, but because she had a new life to provide for. As a mother she had to do everything possible to ensure her child’s health and survival and she couldn’t do that in prison or dead. She was certain Telaan would understand if Shanra had been brave enough to confront the woman.

But she hadn’t been afraid. Her husband had stood tall, prepared to give his life for her, and what had she done? She had shot him and ran off, leaving him to the twisted appetites of the monsters that had attacked them.

Shanra was disgusted with herself, but she saw no other reason than to press on. She had upheld her part of the bargain. She had activated the beacon, and if the Tal Shiar arrived too late to pick up their quarry, there was nothing she could do about that.

Stepping out of the foliage and onto a verdant ledge overlooking a steep valley, Shanra looked up into the sky. The beacon just beneath her left wrist trilled softly.

Seconds later a small dot appeared in the pale blue sky. It quickly grew larger, eventually taking on the spread-winged avian shape of a Romulan shuttlecraft. The small craft landed on the outcropping. Seconds later, a sibilant hissing filled the air, and the side door to the craft opened.

The young woman stepped to the side, lowering her weapon, and clutching her stomach, her baby kicking furiously inside her stomach. Perhaps he’s trying to tell me something, Shanra thought, before her attention became riveted to the tall, handsome Romulan striding through the open hatch. His attractiveness was marred only a long, wicked scar across his forehead.

He planted his feet onto the mushy ground as if he were declaring ownership of the planet.

“Commander Sarpan,” Shanra bowed clumsily, the pain in her stomach increasing. The man’s smile was reassuring.

“Where is Senator Telaan, or the others?” he asked, with concern. A small landing party slowly departed from the shuttle to join their commander.

Shanra pointed in the direction that she had left, her body trembling so much that she couldn’t point straight. “The-they-re-,” she stammered, “Bugs!” she wailed hysterically. The commander grunted and a burly soldier left his side. He quickly subdued the woman in a strong embrace.

“Mild sedative,” he said to a wispy female on his other flank. The woman dug into the black satchel hanging from the padded shoulder of her argent uniform. She pulled out a silver cylindrical object, and approached Shanra slowly. “I want her lucid and calm shortly.”

“What’s that?” Shanra asked suspiciously, bucking against the soldier’s solid grip.

“Just a sedative,” the woman said, before placing it against her arm. “You’re going to be…”

Shanra was unconscious before the woman finished her sentence.
****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Nine

*****

IRW Mellori
(Aranthka System)


“Withdraw from this system immediately or you will be destroyed,” the appealing woman warned. Commander Sarpan tugged on his pointed, gray Vandyke as he stood before the main viewer.

“Unfortunately that is a request I cannot acquiesce to. I have my orders,” he said, with a ping of regret at having to remove the winsome Subcommander Talveth from the mortal plane.

“And I have mine,” she riposted.

“It appears we have a standoff,” Sarpan said. Beyond the range of the viewer, he motioned for his Tactical Officer to bring weapons online. The ship rattled. His brow furrowed and he pursed his lips in displeasure. “It appears you’ve already made your decision,” he said to the woman.

“Minor damage to the primary hull,” Lt. Numa informed him. “No casualties.”

“You’ve drawn first blood,” the older Tal Shiar agent told his counterpart. “It’s only right that I return the favor.” He pointed at the tactical console, the deck beneath him shuddering as the forward disruptor batteries cut loose.

“Their shields are holding. Minimal damage,” Numa said.

“We are evenly matched,” Talveth replied. “I will not let you venture one inch further into this system.”

Sarpan was boiling with impatience. He assumed that the Invidious’s Commanding Officer, Domna, was already at Aranthka IX, and that Talveth’s stand was nothing more than a stalling tactic to allow Domna to get to Dar and Telaan first. Every second he wasted sparring, verbally or otherwise with Talveth, was less time for him to obtain absolution.

Despite his burning emotions, the Tal Shiar operative decided to play it cool. He returned to his seat, and regarded Talveth for a few more seconds. “Subcommander, don’t you know that this foolish gambit by General Volok to dismantle the Tal Shiar won’t work? We are too integral to Romulan society.”

“You mean that your tentacles are everywhere,” Talveth retorted.

“Our actions have saved the empire countless times,” Sarpan said.

“Tell that to the people lost at Tomed, Tarod IX, or in the Omarion Nebula,” the young woman shot back. “Or to all the people falsely accused, imprisoned, tortured, and disappeared by the Tal Shiar for decades.”

“This is about your father isn’t it?” Sarpan asked, his face and voice drawing tight with empathy. He had researched the Invidious’ crew’s profiles on the voyage to Aranthka IX looking for weak points. From the hesitant look now on Talveth’s face, he realized he had found one. “Do you know that it was Chairmanwoman Helanor who personally declassified the files of many of the abuses of the Tal Shiar regime under her predecessor, and that she has been working diligently with the Senate to compensate many of the unfortunate victims of the previous Chairman’s excesses?”

Talveth swallowed loudly before replying. “How can money replace the loss of a father, a husband?”

“It can’t,” Sarpan admitted. “But it’s a start. Helanor wants to work with the military, and the purges and loyalty tests have decreased since her ascendance.”

“If she truly sought amity with the Imperial Fleet, why did the Tal Shiar build their secret armada?” Talveth asked, her voice dripping with skepticism. “Or launch a preemptive strike at the Dominion without the authorization of the military or the Senate?”

“There was no time for endless debate,” Sarpan countered. “We wanted to spare both the Senate and military the responsibility of making the decision. The Fleet was needed to defend our borders if the Dominion chose to strike back, or if the Klingons or Breen sought to exploit the situation. Plus if it went badly, the government would not be held responsible and the Imperial Fleet would still be intact.”

Talveth nodded. “That is sensible,” she conceded.

Sensing an opening, Sarpan pressed forward. “The Tal Shiar will not quietly wither away, even if the Praetor supports Volok’s bid. This could lead to civil war, and that’s the last thing we need right now. The Tal Shiar isn’t perfect, we’ve made mistakes, but we’ve also kept Romulan society from splintering into a morass of greed, ambition, and chaos.”

“So has the military,” Talveth said.

“Yes, it has. But both the military and the Tal Shiar are needed to check one another, and to ensure that the Senate remains the conduit of the Romulan people,” Sarpan said.

“I’ll give you that,” Talveth conceded again. Sarpan smiled.

“Subcommander, I know that our representative aboard the Invidious has likely had a fatal accident. I’m willing to leave the details of his unfortunate end alone if you let me pass. You can’t believe that Commander Domna will share any of the spoils of victory with you. He is too vain for that.” When Talveth didn’t rush to defend her commander, Sarpan knew he had her.

“Go on,” Talveth said quietly.

“Disable your warp engine, and allow us to pass. Volok would not suspect you, and you will have earned the favor of the Chairman,” Sarpan offered.

“And what about Commander Domna?”

Sarpan shrugged. “Who knows?” He grinned.

Talveth nodded, a hungry smile on her face. “You Tal Shiar are no better than Ferengi. I would never dishonor my father’s memory by colluding with you.”

Sarpan’s grin faltered. He was stunned that he had misread the woman so badly. “But-but I thought…”

“A stalling tactic sir,” Talveth said, “While we used the information obtained from your operative, whom I gutted myself, to hack into your access codes.”

“Impossible,” Sarpan said, looking nervously at Lt. Numa. The stout officer returned his stare with a wild one of his own.

“Commander, the shields are deactivating,” he said, a helpless, frustrated expression on his face.

“Get them back,” Sarpan yelled. “Get them back!”

“Too late,” Talveth said, with obscene satisfaction. “On my mark…fire.”
*****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Nine

*****

Aranthka IX


“Grandfather,” Lt. Commander So’Dan Leva whispered weakly, the tentacles of an old nightmare holding on to him as he struggled to wake. He came to slowly, dream-memories of flames, spouts of green blood, and leering, demonic, sooty Klingon faces following him into the waking world.

“Are you okay?” It was a female voice, concerned. Matronly. Not unlike his mother Sonora. So’Dan looked around the dimly lit cave to see Senator Telaan, with her son Narvek’s head in her lap, on a bench of stone carved out of the rock wall.

“Where are we?” Leva’s throat was thick, and his mouth and throat felt as raw and dry at the Vulcan Forge. He slowly got to his feet, his legs wobbling as he made his way over to the stone bench. Telaan scooted over, giving him space to sit down.

So’Dan quickly took stock of his surroundings. A single sconce held a burning torch, which cast flickering light and shadow across the cave. A large boulder blocked their only exit. They were trapped. “What happened?”

“They just brought you back,” Telaan said, her voice weary. “You did better than either me or my son. It was quite some time before we came back to our senses.” She paused to look down at her quietly mewling son. She stroked his hair. “I’m not sure that Narvek has fully recovered yet, but then again Shanra’s inexplicable behavior might be more to blame.”

“Recover from what?” Leva asked, confused and frustrated. He hated being confined or not having options.

“You don’t remember what they did to you?” The Senator asked. “That thing they used to probe your mind?” The commander shook his head. He caught the hint of a smile on the woman’s lips. “Consider yourself lucky then.”

Leva wasn’t sure he wanted to remember. “Where is Dar? Or T’Prell?” Telaan leaned forward so that the half-Romulan could see her face more clearly.

“Dar’s injuries were greater than ours. They separated him quickly while they bandaged the rest of us. T’Prell…they separated her too, even though her injuries were minimal.”

“Do you have any idea why?” So’Dan asked with increasing dread.

“They seemed to make a great commotion about that pendant she was wearing,” Telaan remarked. “The Vulcan pin…the Kol-Ut-Shan,” she added.

“The IDIC,” So’Dan said, “Why would they be interested in that?”

“I’ve got a feeling we’re going to find out,” Telaan said, “and soon.”
*****


USS Cuffe


Captain Terrence Glover leaned back in his seat, ignoring the pain shooting through the deep gash in his right arm. “I bet you didn’t expect this turn of events,” he gloated.

Subcommander Avita, her face a crisscross of scratches, snarled. “We’ll never surrender! I’ll never yield!”

“This is your final warning,” Glover said, glancing in Lt. Meldin’s direction.

“Photon torpedoes primed and ready,” the Benzite said quietly. Avita cut the communication link, leaving the listing, scorch-marked Cormorant-class destroyer filling the Cuffe’s main viewer.

The ship was an updated version of the venerable D7-class which had served with distinction in both the Romulan and Klingon militaries in the last century. However, its firepower was no match for a Nebula-class starship, and once Avita had lost the element of surprise the chances for victory became nil. But Glover respected the Subcommander for her attempt at the near impossible. His desire to spare Avita and her ship clashed with his greater desire to speed to the Aranthka System.

“Sir, awaiting your orders to fire,” Meldin said.

Glover mulled over his options for a few seconds. Both his father and his Exec flanked him. Admiral Glover kindly and Commander Kojo wisely, allowed the captain to reach a decision in his own time. “Mr. Meldin, target the ship’s nacelles. Disable it, but leave it intact.”

“Are you certain we shouldn’t destroy that ship sir?” Commander Kojo piped. “She could send out a distress buoy alerting other warships of our presence here.”

“Good point,” Glover said. “Mr. Meldin also target their communications array. I want it permanently out of commission. With that out of the way, by the time the engineering crew restores power to the engines, we should be safely back across the Federation border.” Kojo frowned with displeasure.

“Good call son,” Admiral Glover said. “There’s never a need to shed blood unnecessarily.”

“Do it,” Glover said, covering his eyes seconds later as a blinding flash overwhelmed the main viewer’s sensors and slammed into the ship. Klaxons roared and a few more consoles sparked. The acrid odors of coolant leaks and flames filled the bride once more. Fortunately, Lt. Hardcastle was able to right the ship in a few seconds. Terrence immediately noticed his father struggling to get off the deck. He rushed to help the older man.

“Dad, are you okay?” Glover asked, worried about the blood pouring from the man’s broken nose.

“I’m fine,” the admiral’s words sounded muffled. “This isn’t anything to get all worried about. Check on your ship.”

“Status!” Glover called out while helping the admiral back to his seat.

“We took the brunt of the explosion pretty hard,” Kojo said from her station, her eyes glued to her console. “We’ve lost starboard shields, and at least four hull fractures have been reported, and one breach on Deck Eleven.”

“How many casualties?” He barked.

“That information hasn’t been collected yet,” Kojo said.

“The other systems, weapons, engines?” Glover asked, looking from the Kriosian to Lt. Meldin.

“Warp engines have been knocked offline, but weapons were unaffected by the blast.”

“Damn,” Glover said softly. “And I thought that Romulan petaQ had run out of ideas!” He pounded his armrest. “How badly will this set us back?”

Kojo glanced at her console. “Commander Rojas has just informed me that several of his key personnel were injured. He’s speculating that the damage and their loss will put us back four to six hours.”

“That’s too long,” Admiral Glover said. “Terrence, perhaps Jasmine can help. She’s a brilliant engineer.”

Without a word of protest, Glover contacted the woman and ordered her to Engineering immediately. He was annoyed at the tiny spark of joy he felt when the woman answered his hail, her voice clear and strong, with no sign of injury.

“Until we can get warp back on line, I want us underway at maximum impulse,” the captain ordered, ignoring the told-you-so look in his First Officer’s eyes. “That’s the last time I’m going to be merciful on this mission.”
*****

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Re: Chapter Eight

Well done--as I said earlier, this story is even better the second time around. The exchange between Talveth and Sarpan was very well done as Sarpan made actually made a very good philosophical argument for the existence of the Tal'Shiar. With that little exchange, you gave us good insight into the workings of Romulan politics.

Again, well done!

 

[Dnoth]

Re: Chapter Eight

^Agreed. I always liked the Romulans too. They have so much potential, which canon series never really delved into much.

Good thing your here to pick up their slack!

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Ten

*****

CHAPTER TEN


Aranthka IX


The Kestrel class shuttle screamed over the treetops. Commander Prius Domna left the co-pilot’s seat. He walked to the aft section of the shuttle, where Medic Ulleri kept vigil over the dozing Shanra. “Wake her,” Domna ordered.

Shanra’s eyes fluttered open. “Commander Sarpan,” she said sleepily.

“My name is not Sarpan,” the commander replied. “And if you wish to live you will assist us in capturing your husband, mother-in-law, and the other traitors.”

The young woman grimaced. “I-I can’t betray them again,” her eyes filled with tears. “I won’t.”

“Think of the child,” Domna pointed at her protruding belly. “Doesn’t it deserve a chance to live?”

“Live what kind of life without his father or his family?” Shanra said, her voice stronger now. “How could I even look at him knowing that I had condemned his father?”

“Your choice,” Domna pulled his honor blade from the scabbard on his hip. Both Shanra and Ulleri’s eyes grew wide. The doctor put herself in front of the blade.

“Sir, I can’t allow this,” the medic declared. “At the very least we need her alive to help us find the others.”

“I’ve got the shuttle’s sensors for that,” Domna sniffed, though he didn’t advance. “If the prisoner doesn’t cooperate I see no reason to allow her to live. She would be too much of a liability and a threat to this mission.”

“You’re right sir,” Ulleri nodded. She glanced back at the cowering Shanra. “For your own sake, help the commander. He’ll kill you if you don’t.”

“Actually I’ll kill you both,” Domna smiled. “Since you rushed to defend this poor excuse for a citizen, her life is your responsibility now.”

“Okay, okay,” Shanra wailed. “I’ll-I’ll tell you want I know. I’ll help.”

“Excellent,” the smile had never left Domna’s face.
*****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Ten

*****

Aranthka IX


T’Prell barely recognized the sound of her own voice. She had never known that such animalistic pain and fury dwelled inside her, even though she was more in tune with her emotions than most Vulcans.

She pulled on her restraints. The Vulcan was bound by tightly corded restraints hanging from the ceiling in the cold, dank room. She had been stripped of her robes, the draft caressing her with an icy finger.

The oldest woman she had ever seen stood patiently before her. The pointed ears and upswept, white eyebrows were a common Vulcanoid feature. The crimson, brown, and black paint covering the woman’s face weren’t. At least they hadn’t been for several millennia.

The woman clutched the T’Prell’s IDIC pendant in one hand, a polished onyx stone with a glittering green jewel in the other. The pendant had been a gift from Ambassador Spock, a good luck charm for her journey back to the Federation. T’Prell wished she had never laid eyes on it now.

“Tell us more, more about home,” the woman said, reaching toward T’Prell with the stone. The V’Shar agent did her best to avoid the older woman’s malignant touch.

“Why-why don’t you just ask?” She hated how tiny and weak her voice sounded. “Why this?”

“It’s not enough to know, we have to see it…again.” The jagged stone cut into the flesh of T’Prell’s temple again, and a powerful pulse ripped through her brain.
******


Lt. Doval had sat by Uhlan Joro’s corpse for hours. The young man had succumbed shortly after the last session. His mental training hadn’t been sufficient. If she survived this ordeal, she promised herself that she would find his Torture-Resistance instructor and execute them personally.

Sub-Lt. Sovar was huddled in a corner, clutching his knees, his body racked by sobs. Doval feared his mind was gone, but was more afraid that her breaking point was fast approaching.

She had heard stories about enclaves of wild, barbaric Sundered littering the long path from Vulcan to Romulus, but she had never put too much truck in them. Even the histories she had learned in school she had only half-believed. Much of Romulan history had been constructed around the erroneous belief in innate Romulan superiority.

But Doval had never quite bought that. If her people were so superior, how come they hadn’t defeated the Klingons or the Federation yet? Or been able to strike back at the Borg for their incursion along the Neutral Zone? Why now did the Senate ponder signing a peace agreement with the Dominion instead of standing against them?

Doval was a soldier not because she believed the Empire was superior, nor even because she felt an overwhelming desire to defend the system. She had learned quickly to spout such nonsense to appear like the rest of the throng, but deep down she knew that the military had been her best option to escape the urban underbelly of the Krocton Segment.

Dying in battle for the Empire would result in a large bereavement payment for her family. But if she died at the hands of savages on this backwater world, she doubted that her death would even get much notice at all, and there would be no way her family could benefit from it. That’s the part she detested the most. But she didn’t know what to do, and Sovar was no help.

Doval touched Joro’s cool cheek, and made a promise to both him and herself that she would try. If she could survive, her after-action report might help increase the boon to Joro’s family, and to those of the other felled members of the landing party. It was the least she could do, and something truly worth fighting for.
*****


“T’Prell, my gods,” Dar said as he rushed to catch the woman before she hit the ground. The guards that had brought her to the cell, and pulled back the heavy boulder that blocked it, watched the two prisoners silently.

Dar didn’t understand everything, but he knew enough to know that his captors were Vulcans, or better yet, offshoots. He was also certain that their presence on this planet was tied to the Sundering, the great exodus of the proto-Romulans from Vulcan. Many ships were lost along the way and others established colonies, before the majority made it to Romulus. He assumed that these feral creatures, decked in chitin armor, were either one or the other.

T’Prell babbled, drool spilling from the corner of her mouth. Her robes were torn, and crusted with dried green blood. “What did you do to her?” Dar demanded in the ancient Vulcan dialect the woman who had bandaged his injuries had used. The woman had also put back on his tunic Dar realized as soon as he had awakened.

“The Priest-Queen wishes to speak with you,” the older of the guards said, the chill cave draft blowing his long, white hair. “She wants to know how you know our tongue,” he paused, pointing a pincer-fashioned spear at T’Prell. “Even this one does not, though she carries the sign of the First Ones.”

“If you want know something try asking,” Dar said gruffly.

“Our healers will attend to that one shortly, come with us.” The elder guard motioned with his spear for Dar to step forward. He stood in front of T’Prell but planted his feet.

“I’m not going anywhere”, Dar said. “Not until you tell me more.” The old guard chuckled, before he toyed with his necklace, which held a large jade green gem inset inside a polished stone. The gem filled with an unholy energy that poured directly into Dar’s mind.

He stood helpless, unable to move as the guards grabbed him roughly by both arms and dragged him from the room.
*****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Ten

*****

IRW Invidious
(Aranthka IX)


Subcommander Talveth was prudently awaiting her commander. Domna stepped off the shuttle’s ramp, with a grim expression on his face. “This will be more difficult than we thought.”

Before Talveth could ask why, her attention was drawn to a pregnant woman shackled, and situated between two guards. “Who is she?”

“Shanra, a Tal Shiar operative,” Domna said. “We intercepted her comsignal. At first we thought she was one of the members of Murris’s team. Subsequently, she thought I was her contact…an agent named Sarpan.” The name brought a smirk to Talveth’s face. Domna noticed. “You know him?”

“Yes,” she said. “The report has already been downloaded into your personal file.”

Domna nodded. “Is it safe to assume that Sarpan was on that warbird that had entered the system?” The Subcommander nodded. “He’s been taken care of then?” She nodded again. “Excellent. He’s already cost us hours. After Shanra’s intel, I didn’t dare chance retrieving the prisoners without sufficient soldiers and weapons.”

“What’s down there that would merit such a response?” Talveth asked. “What happened to Sub-Centurion Murris and the first landing party?”

“I thought you were a student of history,” Domna admonished. “Read the file on Aranthka IX while you are preparing a strike team.”

“Commander Domna,” a metallic sounding voice piped through the bulkhead communicator in the ceiling.

“What is it Lieutenant Kakel?” He asked, peeved at the interruption.

“Sir, long-range sensors have detected another ship in the Aranthka System, moving at low warp toward Aranthka IX.”

“Another warbird?” Domna asked.

“No Commander,” there was a pause. “It’s a Federation starship.”

“Time of arrival?” Domna pressed.

“Five hours sir,” Kakel replied.

“More than enough time,” the commander concluded. “Thank you Lieutenant.”

“What are your orders sir?” Talveth asked excitedly. Her desire to confront the Starfleet ship was transparent.

“I want you to lead the strike team,” Domna said, enjoying the woman’s deflation. “The Federation starship is mine.”
****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Eleven

****

CHAPTER ELEVEN


USS Cuffe
(Approaching Aranthkan System)


“Pedro, how are those engines holding up?” Captain Glover asked as he crossed the threshold into Main Engineering.

Pedro looked up from the master display console he was hunching over. Lt. Mendes stood on the other side. “We’re up to Warp Five now. Lt. Mendes here is a godsend. I think I’m in love.” The woman couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“How about we get back to the Federation before you start planning the wedding,” Glover quipped. “When can we get the engines back to full power?”

“It’s a slow process,” Commander Rojas said. “I’ve got Lt. T’Shanir heading up the restoration of the power transfer grid. Lt. Mendes and I are working on the plasma intercooler.”

“Well just keep at it,” Glover said. “We’re going to need all the power we can muster.”

“Understood sir,” Rojas said. Glover turned to leave, but stopped suddenly.

“Something else on your mind sir?” Rojas asked, a note of concern in his voice.

“I…uh…just wanted to tell Lt. Mendes that I appreciate her assistance,” the captain said. Mendes bowed, a full smile flowering on her face.

“You don’t have to do that sir, it’s just my duty,” Mendes said.

“Well, it’s a damn fine job nonetheless,” Glover said.

“Gees, I liked it better when you two were at war with each other,” Rojas groaned.

“This is only a ceasefire,” Jasmine said, though there was laughter in her eyes.

“Yeah, a temporary cessation of hostilities until the Romulans are out of the way,” Glover couldn’t force down his grin. “After that I promise you it will be full on brutality again.”
****

Aranthka IX


Two shuttles departed the Invidious for the planet’s surface this time. Aboard the Ekhis, Subcommander Talveth felt like she was drowning in her armormesh outfit.

The large, grenade-studded bandolier strapped across her chest didn’t help her respiration problems. But she knew it would be foolish to express her concerns to her subordinates.

It would make her look weak, and if she intended to bring back as many survivors as possible they needed to trust her leadership, and whining would erode their confidence.

The Ekhis shuddered violently as it hit the atmosphere, a fiery red glow suffusing the cabin. Talveth ground her teeth as her ears popped.

An eternity of seconds later and the shuttle had landed in a disruptor-made clearing near the opening to the underground dwelling Domna had surmised was the location where the Aranthkans were holding Senator Telaan and the others.

The other shuttle, the Ngonga landed beside them. Sub-Centurion Pompil led his men out of the sister shuttle. The security specialist would serve as her second in command during the mission.

After the rest of the soldiers had piled out of the shuttles and began setting up a defensive perimeter, Talveth had ordered the pilots to remain onboard. She wanted the shuttles to cloak, in case the Federation starship somehow got past the Invidious. If that happened they would be the last line of defense, and she wanted to maintain the element of surprise.

Before she had the shuttles cloak, she ordered their sensors turned on the ground. She wanted to find confirm Domna’s readings of multiple Romulanoid life signs, and also to find an access point underground.

Once they had supplied her with the answers she needed, Talveth pulled her disruptor pistol from its holster, and ordered her soldiers to follow her into the bowels of the earth.
*****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Eleven

*****

USS Cuffe
(Main Bridge)


“Captain I’m picking up another spatial disturbance,” Lt. Hardcastle said. Glover leaned forward in his seat.

“What’s the nature of the disturbance Mister Hardcastle?”

“It’s an intermittent polarized distortion field, 600,000 kilometers fore.”

“Almost within firing range,” the captain slapped his armrest. “Red alert, raise shields!” After Glover silenced the alarm, he turned to his father. Dr. Nemato had quickly attended to the admiral’s broken nose, and Samson had returned to the bridge less than fifteen minutes after the captain had sent him to Sickbay. “Damn, how did they get so close?”

Samson turned toward the auxiliary aft Science station he was now sitting at. He began to speak, but Lt. N’Saba, at the main Science terminal, grabbed the question. The Alshain seemed oblivious to Admiral Glover’s scowl. Terrence held in a chuckle. “The long-range sensors are working fine. This portion of space is saturated with magnetic distortions for some reason.”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence,” Operations Officer Bheto said quietly, her antennae twitching nervously. “I think the Romulans are setting a trap.”

“I agree,” Samson said.

“So do I Captain,” Commander Kojo sourly concurred.

“But the K’Met didn’t have time to send a message,” Glover said. “If there are some Rommies out there waiting to ambush us, they couldn’t know that we might be able to see through their cloak?”

“Son, don’t presume that Cuffe is the only Starfleet ship that has detected a Romulan cloak before,” Samson chided gently.

Glover grinned sheepishly, his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment. “Of course I’m not assuming anything. Ben has a Romulan cloak on the Defiant after all.”

“And you can believe that the Romulans have developed countermeasures for that model of cloak to prevent Starfleet from gleaning too much information about that device they loaned us too,” Samson concluded with confidence.

“I’m aware of that too Dad,” Glover huffed, feeling a little like the situation was getting away from him, and he hated that. “But we don’t have a lot of time, and that field appears fairly expansive. I say we drive on. If any Romulans out there want a fight, we’ll give it to them.”

“You’re the captain,” Samson said with a grin.
*****

IRW Invidious
(Main Bridge)


The main viewer filled with the disk-shaped bow of the Federation starship. Commander Prius Domna slid to the edge of his perch, his eyes gleaming with a predacious hunger. “I like this Starfleet captain. Burrowing head-long into a certain trap, that’s courage.”

“Or stupidity,” Lt. Kakel, substituting for Talveth, said with scathing disdain. Domna glowered at him. He preferred Talveth’s gentle countering of his arguments rather than a rubber stamp. Oblivious to his displeasure, the woman continued. “It’s almost Klingon in a way,” she laughed harshly.

“Tend to your station lieutenant,” Domna icily snapped. The haughtiness evaporated quickly from the woman and she stood woodenly at her post, her eyes riveted to the terminal’s read out. “I would like to know who we are facing. Check our Starfleet ship registry.”

“It’s the United Starship Cuffe, NCC 73006, Nebula-class,” Kakel said seconds later.

“As I suspected, the father turning to his son for this mission,” Domna said absently. The Romulan scratched his temple as he tried to recall why Glover’s name was stuck in his craw. Eventually it came to him. “You might’ve been more astute in your observation than you realized Lt. Kakel. Glover did serve on a Klingon vessel, right before their civil war,” Domna said. The Tal Arcani had done extensive surveillance of Klingon captains and commanders to ascertain which might be swayed to join the Duras family.

The handful of Klingon commanders that had participated in the Joint Officer Exchange Program with Starfleet had been targeted for immediate termination. Captain Borte of the Dorna, the ship Glover had served on, had unfortunately escaped several of General Movar’s traps during the war. But Domna was certain that he wouldn’t allow her former subordinate a reprieve.

“Move to intercept,” Domna ordered.
*****

 

[CeJay]

Re: Chapter Eleven

Still re-reading this, still impressed. Even though I have to admit that the sheer number of players in this intrigue is still giving me a headache ... in a good way though.

Great stuff!

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Twelve

*****

CHAPTER TWELVE



Aranthka IX


Subcommander Talveth moved cautiously down the careworn stone path. The night-vision goggles she wore made her journey much easier, but she couldn’t help but suspect that Aranthkans were waiting around every corner, or in every crevice, to waylay them. She had ordered her soldiers to inspect each open branched-off corridor they encountered. The bloodthirsty reputation of the Aranthkans was well known by many Romulans, elite and common born.

Though the Empire had claimed the Aranthkan system in the great expansionary push before the war with Earth, Aranthka IX, the only habitable planet in the system, had been largely left alone while the other planets had been voraciously mined for minerals.

Several expeditions to Aranthka IX had been lost, until the venerable Commander Chulak was able to return with only a handful of his soldiers to inform the Senate about what was happening on the accursed planet.

His revelation of a lost colony of Sundered had stunned the Romulan citizenry all those years ago, and transfixed almost every generation since. Every few decades the Science Ministry would send an expedition to study the Aranthkans, most never returning.

The few that did regaled the Romulan populace with tales of a lost tribe of Sundered that had reverted to a savage state similar to that of prehistoric Vulcan, and had also formed a strange telepathic tie to the large insect species that had dominated the planet before their arrival.

Talveth had never put much faith in such fanciful stories, but her stomach tangled with fear the further she ventured underground, her ears picking up the soft scurrying and scraping inside the walls around them and somewhere in the murk ahead.

She hated not being able to simply beam out her quarries, but Commander Domna’s previous reconnaissance had revealed that the Aranthkans’ underground layer was laced with kelbonite which precluded transport.

Also, the Aranthkans’ bio-signs were still too similar to current Romulan and Vulcan signatures. The subcommander wouldn’t know what she had until they resolved on the transporter pad, and Talveth preferred to maintain the element of surprise as long as possible.

She knew her grace period had ended as soon as a claw swung around a corner and neatly speared Lt. Pompil. The man barely managed a scream before he was whisked away. “Subcommander!” A Decurion ahead of her pointed wildly in the direction of where Pompil had been yanked. Dozens of small red eyes gleamed along both sides of the corridor. “They are preparing to attack us! My gods, they are legion!”

Ignoring the hysterical Decurion, Talveth looked behind her, and realized that her rear guard was no longer present. Dozens more red eyes glared at her from behind. We’re trapped, she realized, though she wouldn’t voice such defeatist observations to her already shaken soldiers.

She still had a sizable contingent of well-armed and armored warriors. Talveth wasn’t about to succumb without a fight. She aimed her disruptor at the nearest set of eyes. She then ordered some of the front guard to the rear to cover her. “We’ll see how these creatures like the taste of disruptor fire,” she said through gritted teeth. “We’ll create a wheel of fire and push through to our objective. On my mark, attack!”
*****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Twelve

*****

Aranthka IX


The voices wouldn’t abate in the Priest-Queen’s mind. Each was hungry, clamoring for more. They never thought they would see home again, through her eyes or that of her successors.

But Divine Amonak had been benevolent to them, giving the spirits residing within her a chance to breathe the dry air, and feel the purifying heat of Minshara’s fierce sun again. At first the Priest-Queen had thought the hard-brows her servants had brought to her were similar to all the rest.

But while she had been preparing to harvest their neural energy to recharge the sacred psionic amulets that kept her people and their worker beasts in her thrall, she had discovered two among the intruders that had touched the sands of the hearth world.

And the souls of her predecessors had gorged on the memories of the smooth brow. It had only been the Priest-Queen’s force of will that kept them from draining her completely dry. The Queen had been able to reason with the pack of le-matya to save the smooth-brow, and satiate themselves on the memories of the hard-brow.

The hard-brow hung before her now. Despite his beaten and bruised body, his eyes glowed with a dull defiance. “You’ll never take my mind,” he said through cracked lips. “I…think I know what you are now.” She hadn’t first believed it when Sobi informed her First Guard that this one spoke in the old tongue. The colony hadn’t encountered a hard-brow in many moons that had could communicate with them, and it had intrigued her immediately.

Once Sobi had reported that her brief mental contact with the hard-brow called Dar had revealed that he had trod the sands of their home, the voices within the Priest-Queen had jealously demanded that Sobi be executed for her impertinence. She took a sip from a stew that should’ve been the preserve of the Priest-Queen alone, and all of those had come before her and whose katras she held.

The Priest-Queen smiled at Dar’s futile defiance while she languished on her chitin-covered throne. “And what are we, Ou-sahn-nus Dar?”

“S’leita,” he said with a harsh laugh. The Queen frowned. S’leita was an insect from the old world that had supped on the blood of the unfortunate spreading disease and despair in their wake. They were nothing like the tamed worker beasts that had helped the colony survive after they the first settlers had landed on this world.

“We are nothing like them,” she said coldly. “Do they still plague Minshara?”

“No, they were eradicated centuries ago,” Dar answered. The Priest-Queen breathed a sigh of relief, and said a silent prayer to Amonak.

“I can’t wait to see the changes to our world through your eyes, the eyes of an outsider,” she slid off of her throne. Her white-haired First Guard moved quickly to her side, his spear pointed warily at Dar. Bound, there was little the hard-brow could do to resist, and he had the sagacity to realize it. The Priest-Queen’s estimation of him increased mightily in comparison to the foolish ferocity of the other hard brows that the colony had consumed over the years.

“If you don’t resist, this won’t be as painful,” she said softly. The Priest-Queen gained little pleasure from causing pain to people that gave her and her predecessors such a gift as a window to the old world. “You’ve provided a great service, and your memory will be honored among our people,” she added as she lifted the stone hanging from her necklace up to Dar’s temple.

“That means a lot,” Dar mumbled loud enough for the Priest-Queen to hear.

“Thank you,” she said, with genuine warmth. “You are quite judicious Ou-sahn-nus Dar. Amonak will surely guide you to Sha Ka Ree.” She placed the stone gently against the man’s throbbing temple.

“I was being sarcas….” He started to say, before a soul-rattling scream ripped from his lips. The souls within her danced with macabre rhythm.
*****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Twelve

*****

USS Cuffe
(Main Bridge)


“Get that damn light out of my face!” Captain Glover swatted the penlight away, startling the young nurse. The frazzled, wrinkled face Edoan fell back toward the deck, its pratfall stopped by its conveniently placed third leg. Glover placed his hands on the rattling deck, and used all his strength to push himself back up into the seat he had been thrown from seconds before.

He closed his eyes, willing the spinning to go away, and ignored the crown of throbbing pain encircling his head. “Go help somebody that needs it.” He told the medic. The alien swooned in response, the pitching deck not helping his balance in the slightest.

The Edoan already forgotten, Glover glanced down at the cracked armrest before gazing again at the main viewer. At least that’s still working, he thought, as the screen filled with another of the warbird’s greenish discharges. Glover thought about informing to the bridge crew to brace for another assault, but decided against it.

The Invidious had hit them with enough blistering volleys that they shouldn’t expect a respite. And the damn Rommies weren’t about to give them one. He covered his eyes as the bridge filled with blinding light. The main viewer exploded, jagged shards stabbing and slicing through unfortunate crewmen.

The captain barely jumped from his seat in time, muscles moving on pure instinct. Using the chair as a makeshift aegis, Glover screamed as a fragment dug into his shoulder. Shouldn’t have opened my big mouth, he thought again, as he looked up from his seat, reaching awkwardly at the piece, a numbing pain flaring down his arm as he ripped the serrated tripolymer aluminum from his flesh. He ground his teeth to hold back another scream. It wouldn’t do for the crew to have their captain wailing like a Ferengi, he thought.

Standing up slowly, he looked to the Tactical station, and saw no one there. He blinked, shifting his eyes as he remembered that auxiliary tactical functions had been rerouted to the aft Mission Ops console after a powerful feedback loop had engulfed Lt. Meldin in flames up to his elbows.

He had called for Lt. Dryer to replace the anguished Benzite, but the woman hadn’t responded to his summons. Glover hoped that she was okay, but forced himself not to dwell on the woman’s fate. He had a ship to save. Admiral Samson Glover, thin beads of blood crowning his forehead like perspiration, now manned Mission Ops. “Tactical report.” Glover barked, more to mask his pain and fear than from any disappointment with the admirable performance of the crew.

“Photon torpedo bays are offline, Torpedo Bay 5 has ruptured, causing a hull breach and irradiating Deck Fifteen. Containment procedures have been implemented.” His father’s voice was modulated, calm, and completely too sane, Glover surmised. “Fore phaser banks have been exhausted. Aft phasers are still online.”

“How can the fore phasers be exhausted?” Glover exclaimed.

“Apparently, the phaser coils hadn’t completed recycling when the Invidious showed up son.”

“Great,” the captain huffed, turning slowly from the admiral to the Ops console. Foam covered the ruined, smoky console. Its occupant, face crisscrossed with scars, held a small extinguisher in hand. “Damage report?” He asked. The Romulans had hit them hard and fast. Glover had hoped a series of tachyon sweeps would reveal any lurking warbirds, but the Invidious’ Commander Domna had anticipated that. Flooding stretches of space with magnetized distortion fields had nullified their cloak detector.

Glover had tried to slug it out with the warbird like he had the Comorant, but ultimately it had been to no avail. The D’deridex-class was larger and more powerful than even the Galaxy-class which was the biggest ship or the Defiant-class, which was the toughest ship in Starfleet’s arsenal. Eventually, the Cuffe’s defenses had begun to crumble under the onslaught.

“We’re in serious trouble,” Lt. Bheto intoned grimly.

“That’s your expert assessment?” The Andorian looked mournfully at him, saying nothing. “Take the helm then Lieutenant.” Glover quickly gazed over the Flight Control Chair and the junior officer pinned to it, Lt. Hardcastle’s head lolling to the side.

Bheto followed the commander’s gaze, recoiling before silently moving over to helm control. Glover pushed down his gorge and approached the back of the seat with measured steps. Wrapping a hand around the piece sticking out of the back of the seat, ignoring the pain as the aluminum cut into his fingers and the sickening slickness of a dead man’s blood, the commander looked again at Bheto.

“Okay Amanisha, on the count of three.” She nodded, gingerly touching the man’s arm. One, two, three.” He ripped the shard through the man, out of the back of the seat, while Bheto simultaneously pushed the corpse from the seat. He fell with a muffled thud. “Turn the ship around, use the remaining sensors as best you can to lock on and nail that bastard with whatever aft phasers we’ve got left.”

“Aye captain.” He clapped the woman reassuringly, wincing as the blood from his cut hand trailed down her shoulder. The woman ignored it, her face becoming a mask of intensity as she concentrated on bringing the sluggish ship about.

Glover turned from her, staggering as another blast pummeled the ship. “Lateral shielding gone!” Admiral Glover called through the smoke and flames.

“Commander Kojo!” The captain yelled, grabbing the railing to help steady his balance as he stepped out of the command well and approached the auxiliary Engineering station. “Where’s our warp power?”

Kojo was hunched over the panel, her fingers flying furiously, forehead beading with sweat from the flames roaring at the console beside her, and from her own frenzied efforts. He cursed, slamming his fists into the console. The Executive Officer looked up at the commander, her dark eyes filled with lightning bolts. “Commander Rojas says they’re doing their best down there just to keep the warp core from breaching, much less getting it back on line.” Standing over Kojo, he ordered the woman to activate the comm. to Engineering.

“Lt. Mendes here,” a weary voice, almost unrecognizable due to its lack of bite, issued through the comm. speaker.

“This is Captain Glover,” Terrence said, wondering for a nanosecond how his voice might sound to Jasmine. “Where’s Commander Rojas?”

“He’s busy at the moment…attending to a rupture in the trilithium resin storage tanks. Lt. T’Shanir is with him. Right now, I’m all you’ve got.”

“Fine,” Glover said, “What’s the status of the warp engines?”

“There aren’t any,” was the sharp reply. “That last fusillade that caused the rupture also disabled the warp core.”

“Damn,” the captain said, punching an overhead display. “That D’deridex has a ton more weaponry than we have. We need to do something to try to even the odds.”
“I’m working miracles here to keep the impulse engines running,” Mendes said defensively. “Perhaps if you could try not to make the Cuffe simulate a punching bag I might be able to do that.”

“You’re out of line,” Samson admonished loudly enough to carry to the speaker.

“Sorry sir,” Jasmine said, not identifying which Glover she was referring to.

“Sorry is not good enough. I want you to squeeze every ounce of juice out of the engines that he can!” Captain Glover commanded. A coolant pipe ruptured above Terrence’s empty chair, melting the seat into slag. The lights blinked off, and the Cuffe groaned as the Invidious tore more chunks from its hide. Dim lighting returned seconds later, casting long shadows over the bridge.

“Emergency generators are on line.” Lt. N’Saba, now at the Ops console, called out. “Hull breaches on Decks 6-13. Shields down to 25%. Structural integrity is at 9%. Primary life support has failed. Another blast like that and it might tear us apart.”

Glover looked at the Alshain and then the remains of the bridge crew, the officers still alive and somewhat lucid fighting injury, grief, and fear to save themselves, but also him, and the dozens of civilians and families onboard.
“Dad, try hailing Commander Domna again.” Glover ordered. “Tell the smug bastard we’ll surrender.” The admiral looked through the smoke seconds later, his face grimmer than usual.

“No response Terrence. Should I try again?”

“No,” Glover swiped through the heavy air. “They haven’t responded to any of our hails thus far. Why continue to waste what little oxygen we have left on the bridge.” The captain hung his head trying to clear his mind of the cacophony of wailing and groaning, shield his nostrils from the smell of burnt circuits and flesh.

He had never run from anything or anyone in his life. It was not in his nature, and if it had been his parents would’ve driven it from him. Glover was an adventurer, a warrior who had modeled himself after the intrepid heroes of the Fleet’s yesteryears. Those men and women never run from a fight, they had always devised some brilliant or devious gambit to rescue themselves and preserve the honor of the Fleet.

He wracked his brain, his encyclopedic knowledge of battles past flowing like sheets in his mind, but he could come up with nothing save one option. “Lt. Bheto, get us out of here. Full impulse.”

“What?” croaked Admiral Glover. “Son, we’ve got a mission to complete! We’ve got people down on the planet and we can’t let the Romulans capture them!”

“I’m well aware of that Admiral!” Glover snapped, definitely not in the mood to be challenged or hear other suggestions, even from his father. He knew what he had to do, even if it galled him.

Of all times he remembered one of the things Captain Diaz had told him about command, that it was not always about the captain and that the universe didn’t revolve around them. He had to think of others, and the well being of his crew was his paramount concern. Glover turned from his father. “Full impulse, any direction away from here. On my mark.” The First Officer grabbed his arm. He glared down at the inappropriate contact, but the woman didn’t draw back her hand.

“The admiral is right,” Kojo spoke up as she stood up from her seat, to look at Glover eye to eye. “We can’t abandon our comrades. What about the promise you made to the crew of the Lacaille! It would be dishonorable to retreat now…it would be cowardly!”

“Are you calling me a coward Nandali?” Glover challenged, his face stinging as if he had been physically slapped by the charge. He flicked his arm, breaking the woman’s hold.
“No son,” Samson glowered at the fuming Kriosian, before continuing. “We can’t let the Romulans win that’s all the Commander is saying, and I know you can find a way to best this Commander Domna.”

“It would be foolish to stay and fight a battle you can’t win,” N’Saba added.

“Perhaps for scavengers like the Alshain,” Kojo said, an old bias, which Glover had thought the woman had mastered, boiled to the surface. She rounded on the ship’s resident Alshain sitting several consoles away from her station.

N’Saba chuckled haughtily. “If the Klingons hadn’t interrupted the Exarchate’s reign of your system we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. In fact you would probably be my servant!” The Kriosian advanced toward the leering canid Science Officer.

“That’s enough!” Glover said. “Both of you!” The woman froze, a short, curving Klingon blade tucked inside her left sleeve, was already in her hand. N’Saba snorted loudly before turning back around in his seat. “Now is not the time to fall apart. I need everyone focused on our survival!”

“There’s more to life than mere survival,” Kojo replied, unable to let it go. Glover forcefully plucked the blade from her grasp. The woman’s head snapped around, her lips twitching with anger. He had allowed the woman to carry the dagger because of its Klingon/Kriosian cultural significance. He had never expected Nandali to actually draw it on a fellow crewmember, even one as querulous as N’Saba.

“Perhaps,” Glover glared at the fierce warrior. The woman didn’t reply, but the tense set of her shoulders, and the fire raging in her gaze told him what she really thought, no matter how his father had tried to clean it up. But he would deal with that later. “Maybe we can find a way to get past the warbird, but not here and not now.”

“What are you thinking son?” Admiral Glover asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” he gave a rakish smile that plastered over his roiling doubts. “But I need a little time to think about it.” He repeated his order, and the Cuffe turned around and limped away from the Invidious.
*****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Twelve

*****


IRW Invidious
(Main Bridge)


“Look at him run,” Commander Domna sneered with displeasure. “And I would’ve thought the Klingons had taught Glover a lesson or two about fighting to the bitter end.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess a victory is a victory, even if I have to do it from behind the back.”

“The Breen way,” Kakel crowed, her face flush with battle lust. Domna decided to let the woman’s impertinence pass this time. She had performed ably as his second, perhaps even better than Talveth as she had carried out his orders to carve into the Federation starship. Invidious had taken damage, especially to its forward shields.

Though the Starfleet vessel’s weapons batteries weren’t as formidable as those of a D’deridex warbird, they still packed quite a wallop. The slugfest Captain Glover had unwisely engaged in had actually caused significant damage to the ship’s shields, particularly the forward shields, lowering them below twenty percent. However, the aft shields were moderately strong. Domna also had most of his phaser banks and engines at close to half power.

He stabbed his armrest. “Lieutenant Lukath here,” came the squeaky reply.

“Full power to engines,” Domna said, already relishing the thought of two victories against Starfleet vessels within as many weeks. “Give chase,” he ordered. “It’s time to finish this.”
*****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Twelve

*****

USS Cuffe
(Main Bridge)


Okay, so much for Plan A, Captain Glover gripped the guardrail separating himself from a nasty tumble into the command well as the Invidious scored the ship again. His head swam in a river of pain, each explosion reverberating inside his cranium.

“Status?” He called. He squinted through the film of smoky hazy permeating the bridge, his eyes brimming with tears. Normally he would rub them away immediately, unwilling to allow his subordinates to see any hint of weakness, but at the moment he didn’t care. All he cared about now was survival.

“Photon torpedoes are offline, all but the aft phasers are functional, but that bank is severely depleted. I recommend a one minute shut down to allow the regeneration of the bank’s power couplings.” Lt. Meldin, back at Tactical, replied.

His return, against Dr. Nemato’s recommendation, had been the one bright spot since Glover had chosen to leave the field of battle, the result of which had only amounted to being relentlessly pounded from the aft quarters instead of the front.

“And leave us defenseless?” He looked at the unruffled, bandaged Benzite. The man’s placid gaze unsettled him. “Can’t we take power from another system?”

“Captain, we’ve already done that to keep life support and structural integrity systems active. If we go to the well once again, it will overtax the ship’s systems.” Bheto answered him, her voice high strung with uncustomary frustration. The woman pounded the Helm console.

He returned to the auxiliary Engineering console. Commander Kojo’s previously spewing anger had been contained behind a steely professionalism. She slid over to allow the captain to look at her terminal’s readout.

“Where’s a nebula when you need one?” Glover griped as his eyes scanned the panel relaying information from the Cuffe’s remaining sensors. A large green blip represented the Romulan ship on the small screen’s black and gold grid. It was gaining on the Cuffe’s chevron. The commander pounded a button. “Lt. Mendes,” he barked into the open line. “What’s the condition of our warp engines?”

His chest tightened as the restored comlink filled with static after another hit from the Invidious. Prepared for another dejected response from the engineer, his head snapped back with surprise when Commander Rojas answered. His voice tired, but strong, the chief engineer said. “Warp engines back online.” The man paused, obviously waiting for Glover to give the order to initiate the warp drive and speed them away from the Invidious.

The captain turned from the console, leaving it on and Rojas and the rest of the crew waiting. He walked down to Flight Control. Tapping Lt. Bheto on the shoulder, he jerked his thumb in the direction of the upper ring. The woman reluctantly slid out of the seat. “What are you doing sir?” The Andorian looked at him askance.

“Something I haven’t had a chance to do since my days in Nova Squadron at the Academy.” He turned his back toward the open link. Raising his voice, he ordered the engineer, “Full power to warp engines. I’m going to do an Immelmann Turn.”

“That’s pretty standard stuff,” Rojas remarked over the comm. “I thought Nova Squadron was the haven of the flyboy elite.”

“You didn’t let me finish, an Immelmann Turn leading into a modified Kolvoord Starburst.” The captain smiled at the gasps and stunned expressions of his officers. Even the fearless Commander Kojo looked uneasy.

“But sir, the mechanics of navigating a single pilot shuttlecraft for such a maneuver is dangerous enough, but an entire starship? Our structural integrity is overwhelmed as it is. This could rip the duranium off of our skeletal frame,” Rojas said.

“We’re dead either way,” Glover replied. “The Romulans won’t accept our retreat or take prisoners, and I’m tired of running.”

“I agree.” Admiral Glover said with obvious reluctance. His father was sagging against the bulkhead, a fire extinguisher hanging loosely in one hand. Terrence couldn’t remember a time when he had seen his father look so tired, not even during his mother’s funeral.

“Me too,” he heard Jasmine chime in. Glover masked his shock at the vote of confidence coming through the intercom from Lt. Mendes. The woman added, “I don’t think we have nothing to lose.”

“The Romulans have shifted their shields fore, to deflect our aft phasers. Their aft quarters are lightly protected.” Meldin chimed in. “We only have aft weapons, and the phaser array in the upper module.” Perhaps the most unique feature of Nebula-class ships was the module built on a superstructure above engineering. The captain had reconfigured it to serve as an additional tactical platform for this mission. So far, it hadn’t affected the outcome of the battle, but Terrence was hoping to change that.

“I agree,” Glover nodded. “Most of our torpedo delivery systems are offline, but we should have enough. Mr. Meldin, I want you to coordinate with Commander Rojas and Transporter Chief Balk. As soon as we go to warp, I will start the turn. Reaching the dorsal mid-ships of the Invidious, I want three photon torpedoes transported to just behind the Romulan vessel.”

The Benzite nodded, the corners of his mouth almost turning upward in a smile. “I speculate that you intend to ignite the photon torpedoes with a combination of our upper tactical platform and the warbird’s own plasma exhaust.”

“You got it.”

“It’s bold, risky,” Commander Rojas said. “But I must admit its brilliant, and doable I think.” The captain was further emboldened by the silent nods given to the plan by both Commander Kojo and Lt. N’Saba.

“Let’s get it done,” Glover said.

“Aye sir.” Meldin said, and the remaining bridge officers responded. Glover opened a ship wide channel, or at least where communications had been established. The unfortunate others would have to figure it out. “This is Captain Glover, secure yourselves and any items that might cause injury. Secure all hazardous materials. We might experience an extreme loss of artificial gravity and structural integrity. Glover out.”

The captain gestured for Bheto to relieve her replacement at Ops. Terrence ran his fingers along the battered Helm, adjusting himself in the seat. He hadn’t steered a starship in far too long, and he looked forward to dusting off his skills. Of course he wished the opportunity was under less dangerous circumstances. But it was all part of the job, Glover guessed, his fingers running over the controls, pulling up navigational schematics, relaying calculations to the Cuffe’s central computer, preparing the ship for its precipitous climb.

Another console blew up behind him, reminding him that this wasn’t a simulation. Glover transmitted his final coordinates, and whispered a prayer. “Warp power. Now!” Instinctively he looked at the screen expecting the comforting morphing of stars into penciled streaks that accompanied a ship’s implementation of warp drive. The gutted viewer was another sobering reminder of how perfect he had to be in order to get everyone home. “Everybody hang on!”

Shutting off thought and emotion as best he could, his fingers flew across the console, his mind and body melding with the ship’s computer, calculations flying furiously from the depths of his consciousness. Glover imagined he could actually feel the ship as he begun the sharp turn upwards. The captain definitely knew he felt the groaning of struts as the ship rattled under the strain. The bridge lights blinked madly. Sweat ran into his eyes, but he kept his focus. It was almost over, almost…

“Photon torpedoes have been transported.” He heard Meldin’s voice somewhere in the distance. And suddenly he was behind the ship, passing right below it.

“Aft phasers!” He was sure he bellowed, but his voice felt as distant as Meldin’s. “Fire!” Once the ship had completed the turn, Glover ordered the Benzite to unleash a barrage from the ship’s upper tactical module. He wished he had a screen to witness their handy work, contenting himself as the Cuffe jerked sideways, tumbling frenetically in the grip of the shockwave.

“Did we destroy them?” Glover yelled out as soon as he had righted the ship and his teeth stopped clattering.

“The warbird has not been destroyed. However, it has lost aft shielding,” Meldin said, a bit dejected. “Forward shields had already been weakened in the previous exchange. Warp engines and aft weapons are presently offline.”

“The ship is moving,” Bheto said with alarm, “It’s trying to move to face us.”

“Where its shields are still holding,” Kojo darkly summarized. “And where its weapons batteries are still operational.”

“Whatever we have left in our weapons banks transfer it to the tactical platform and pour into the aft quarters of Invidious now!” The Cuffe trembled as phased energy charged from above the main bridge and speared the warbird.

Glover hated that the viewscreen had been destroyed because he would’ve loved more than anything to see Commander Domna’s face at the moment.
*****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Twelve

*****


IRW Invidious
(Main Bridge)


Commander Prius Domna held his face together with a gnarled, charred hand. He could feel the blood oozing between his fingers, the skin, viscous muscle and tissue underneath slippery. He was in a place far beyond pain.

“Commander Domna,” he heard a voice calling him far away.

“Hersilia,” he cried softly.

“Who?” A strong grip dragged-pulled him back onto his torn seat. Domna shook his head, the memory of the common woman he had once loved, but abandoned after forcing her to abort their child, slowly receded to the depths of his memory.

A scion of the elite, it wasn’t his choice whom he could love or marry he had been forced to learn the hard way. Hersilia’s ‘accidental’ pregnancy, which Domna’s father had convinced him, had been a scheme to escape her low station, had hammered the point home almost as ferociously as his ship was being battered now. “What?” Domna said, still caught between dream and reality.

“Our aft shields are gone!” Kakel screeched. Surprisingly, the woman bore little injury, except for a laughably tiny scratch running down the right corner of her mouth. “And our weapons are severely depowered.”

“What about forward shields?” Domna asked, his survival instinct cutting through his mental haze.

“Those are still operating,” wheezed the Uhlan at Tactical. The man’s uniform had a bright green stain in its chest. Domna was amazed, and inspired, by the young man’s commitment to duty.

“Then turn this bird around,” Domna ordered. “We won’t make it easy for them.” The Helm Officer had just typed in the new transmitting new coordinates, and the commander could feel the ship turning, and see it on the main viewer shift.

“It’s too late!” Kakel said morosely, standing up from her console. Domna could clearly see what had riled the lieutenant’s feathers. The tactical platform sitting atop the Cuffe like a great eye was turning red with energy build-up. “We’re not going to make it.”

Domna sought to allay the shrill woman’s fears. Talveth would’ve never displaye such rank pessimism on the bridge. Prius was the product of the finest tactical education the Star Empire could provide. He was superior to any Starfleet captain. He had already proven that with Captain Tsang of the Lacaille.

Captain Glover was to be commended for his deceptive stroke, but Domna wouldn’t be fooled again. His ship was still in better condition, and victory would be his, even if he had to snatch it from the fickle gods that had thrown this slight complication in his way. “It’s never over,” he said, right before it actually was.

*****


USS Cuffe
(Main Bridge)

“Hmmm,” Meldin frowned at his instrument panel.

“I don’t like the sound of that Mr. Meldin,” Captain Glover left the helm and strode over to the Tactical station. “What’s happened?”

“The Invidious’s structural integrity in the aft section was softer than our sensory data suggested,” he said, a sad expression on his face. “Our fire punched through the hull and pierced the ship’s quantum singularity engine. The warbird can’t be saved.”

“And neither can we if we don’t get out of here immediately,” N’Saba replied. Glover raced back to the helm and typed in coordinates. He sent the command to engage warp engines seconds before the blast hit, shrouding everything in a black embrace.
*****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Chapter Twelve

Dnoth, Dave, and CeJay,

Thank you for your comments. I'm glad you're enjoying the Redux.

 

[CeJay]

Re: Chapter Twelve

Allow me to be honest, I'm getting a bit saturated with complex space battles in stories (you might understand if you get a chance to read Cry Havoc) unless they are done right. And, wow, you certainly did.

This was tense, exciting and well written. Didn't look like Glover and Cuffe would pull out of this one but they did.

Very cool.