Geometries of Chance - ST: Gibraltar

[Gibraltar]

Whenever you hear, "All hands brace for impact," you know you're having a bad day.

Lots of small things really add to this segment. I liked this:

"Sandhurst fought the sudden urge to stand from the command chair and move about. He was gradually learning the importance of monitoring his own non-verbals in the presence of his crew."

A small thing, perhaps, but such details really bring out the depth of your characters. Sandhurst is still facing a steep learning curve as C.O. He's learning, though, and unfortunately he has some very hard lessons ahead.

More, please!

Thanks for noticing. This is Starship Command For Dummies as far as Sandhurst is concerned. He still actually has to think about how he carries himself in a crisis, not only what he says, but how he says it.

Having the captain pacing and biting his fingernails during a tense situation isn't going to instill a lot of confidence.

 

[Gibraltar]

This is (still) a terrific build-up to what's going to be a complex and intriguing story. I'm reading this and wondering if Sandhurst and crew could have approached this situation any differently but so far I can't really see how.

Terrific stuff and it's going to get even better.

Heh, no kidding.

What's that expression that Will Riker's so fond of? 'Sometimes you get the bear, and sometimes the bear ambushes you, mauls you into hamburger, jumps rope with your entrails, and plays soccer with your head.'

At least, I think that's what he says.

 

[Count Zero]

Seems like a bit of overkill on the part of the Orions... Are they already posessed by the imprisoned entity?

 

[Gibraltar]

Seems like a bit of overkill on the part of the Orions... Are they already posessed by the imprisoned entity?

Less possessed than strongly manipulated by... but yes, they were.

Thanks for commenting!

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Two of Gibraltar’s four torpedoes had struck Sethret amidships, which caused serious hull buckling despite the craft’s sturdy shields. Their own isolytic detonation finished the job as it crashed through their weakened deflectors and fried every multitronic component in the ship. The once graceful Orion blockade runner now drifted, defenseless, a victim of her own intrigues.

Ahmet Kutav sat helpless as he watched Vanei writhe spasmodically in his seat. It was not mere discomfort this time, but an exposed EPS relay in his console that caused the man’s charring corpse to thrash wildly.

He had inexplicably thrown caution to the wind, endangering and ultimately dooming his ship and crew, and for the life of him Kutav could not say why. The ahmet fumbled for the key dangling from the chain around his neck and forced it into the locking mechanism on his chair’s armrest. His shaking hand strained to turn the key as he opened a small compartment housing a single green button. I have failed my family, my crew, and the Syndicate, he reflected bitterly. At the very least I can die like an Orion. Kutav pressed the button that activated the explosive charges set at critical junctures throughout the ship. His last thought was of his younger cousin, who would never know the joys and privileges of his own command. Apologies, Vanei...

*****

If it could have, it would have screamed. It had grossly misjudged its ability to control the corporeals in this place. After it had provoked them into attacking the other vessel, they had launched some manner of weapon whose detonation had caused the rift back to its place of imprisonment to fluctuate. Despite lacking any physical substance, it was not immune to pain, and this disturbance wracked the creature with an agony that made its eons of confinement pale in comparison.

Weakened and hurt, it recoiled back into the planet’s gravity well. There it would lick its proverbial wounds until its strength returned. It reasoned that it must find a way to break itself free from this place. If not, it would be forever chained to this world, subject to the torture of being able to see its prey passing almost within reach, but forever prevented from feeding.

*****

The din grew louder until it intruded upon his peaceful solitude and became so distracting that he was forced to open his eyes. Blood red emergency lighting greeted Sandhurst’s swimming vision. Voices had awakened him, along with the sounds of computer systems restarting. He saw Ramirez as she moved purposefully from station to station on the intact bridge, rousing those crew still incapacitated by the shockwave.

Sandhurst cleared his throat, and then croaked, “Report… Commander.”

Ramirez leaned across the Ops board to toggle a control as she gently shook Ensign Browder awake with her other hand. “Trying to determine our status, Captain. We’re obviously still here, so I’m taking that as a positive sign.” She moved to the upper level of the bridge and eased past the duty engineer’s still unconscious form to check the ship’s status. “Looks like the computer core shut down automatically to prevent a complete systems collapse, sir. It’s rebooting now, and main systems are coming back online in sequence.”

Sandhurst rubbed his face dazedly. He felt as though he’d just awakened from a long slumber. “Any idea what that was, or how long we’ve been out?”

From the Science station, Plazzi answered. He sounded as groggy as Sandhurst. “Backup power remained on through the core shutdown, Captain, so the chronometers kept running. It’s been less than a minute since the detonation. As for what exactly hit us… I’ll have to review the sensor logs. Give me a few minutes.” The older man looked haggard, but turned to his console and set to work.

Sandhurst did a full rotation in his chair to assess the condition of the bridge and crew. He saw Ramirez kneeling next to where Lar’ragos lay sprawled at the base of the Tactical console. Ramirez shook the El Aurian gently, but he did not respond. She detected a strong pulse in his carotid artery and met the captain’s expectant stare evenly. “He’s fine sir, just out.” She tapped her compin with her other hand to order a medical team to the bridge.

Her triage complete, Ramirez stood and manned the Tactical console. She addressed the captain in a murmur quiet enough that only Sandhurst could hear, “I would remind you that the ship that attacked us is still out there, and we’re both blind and defenseless at the moment.”

Sandhurst directed a patient smile at his exec. “I haven’t forgotten. One thing at a time, Commander.” He turned back to face the viewscreen as he ordered, “Get me a position fix on the threat vessel as soon as sensors come back online. Tactical, status of shields and weapons?”

The XO replied from behind him, “Shields are still up, holding at sixteen percent. Weapons systems and targeting sensors still offline.”

Sandhurst resisted the urge to call down to Engineering. Doubtless, Ashok was working feverishly to restore primary systems, and having the captain nipping at his heels wouldn’t make his job any easier.

The wait for sensor capacity to be restored was agonizing. The captain sat quietly and tried not to fidget. He imagined that any second their opponent could deliver the killing strike. Now I understand the reasoning behind all the simulator time at Command School, he thought. Staying calm during an exercise is one thing, but no matter how ‘real’ your instructors make the scenarios, you’re always aware that you aren’t in any actual danger. They wanted me to be ready for this moment, where I have to sit here, otherwise useless, and still be the steady pillar of leadership for my crew. Sandhurst actually shook his head and smirked at the thought, which drew a curious look from Ramirez who had resumed her station in the well.

Finally, the chief petty officer at Engineering breathed a sigh of relief. “We have partial sensors, Captain.”

As he craned his head around to look behind him, Sandhurst inquired, “Tactical?”

Ensign Qawasimi had taken Lar’ragos’ place at the Tactical station, while the lieutenant lay off to one side being examined by a medical technician. Qawasimi checked his board. “Sir, I’m reading a debris field, approximately eight hundred-thousand kilometers from our position. Mass and constituents would appear consistent with the Orion vessel.”

The tightness in Sandhurst’s gut seemed to ease just a fraction at that news. “Status of the runabout?”

“Unchanged, sir. It appears to have been outside the range of the shockwave.”

Sandhurst swiveled in his chair to face the Science officer. In response to the captain’s gaze, Plazzi announced, “I believe I have some answers for you, sir.” Plazzi was beginning to look a bit better and the color had returned to his features. “I’m seeing residual byproducts of a localized subspace disturbance, Captain.” He drew his bearded face away from his display, his expression troubled. “I think they fired a subspace charge at us.”

“Then how are we still here?” Sandhurst tried to calculate the potential destructive force unleashed by such a hellish weapon.

“It appears to have been a relatively low yield weapon, sir. The rift it created lasted only a fraction of a second before it collapsed.” Plazzi called up some data on another display while he nodded distractedly to himself. “That might also explain why we blacked out, sir. Subspace disturbances have been known to interfere with the neural pathways of carbon-based lifeforms.”

“What would have been the result if the weapon had struck us directly?”

Plazzi replied dourly, “We’d have been completely annihilated, sir.”

The captain nodded somberly and intoned, “Very well.” Sandhurst turned to Ramirez. “Exec, take a rescue team by shuttle to Brahmaputra and recover the runabout’s crew. We’ll hold position, effect repairs, and screen you from any additional insurgent attacks.”

“Aye.” Ramirez stood from her station and gave Sandhurst a curious look. “So, you’re sure this is another insurgent operation, Captain?”

“No, but that’s the assumption I’m working under for the time being. It certainly looks like the mysterious energy emissions and the attack on the runabout were meant to lure us into an ambush.” He gestured to Browder at Ops. “Hail DS9 and update them on our status, then contact Trafalgar and warn them the convoy could be facing an imminent attack as well.”

“Aye, sir.”

As she moved for the turbolift, Ramirez tapped her compin, “Lieutenant Taiee, meet me in the shuttle bay for a rescue detail.” She stepped into the car. “Ensigns Qawasimi and Lightner, you’re with me.”

Lightner abandoned his station with a broad grin and joined the exec, excited at the chance to pilot the shuttle.

The captain fixed a serious look on Ramirez as the doors closed. “Bring them back to us, Commander.”

*****

Pierosh II

The dark figure stood alone, silhouetted against the lavender sunset of the local star as he cursed the fates. He drew his heavy cloak around him for warmth against the frigid wind that blustered across the barren, rocky landscape as he plotted his next move. On some level he could appreciate the irony of his situation. Decades of planning and effort had gone into this, and on the cusp of his greatest victory, he had been thwarted. Not by any man or army or nation, though. That he could have made allowances for. After all, he had been defeated by others in his long past, lessons that he considered as painful as they had been valuable. But this time… this time it seemed as if the very fabric of the universe had conspired against him.

From within the folds of his cloak he withdrew an amber colored, tear drop shaped crystal that filled the palm of his hand. He passed his other hand over it and watched the flickering lights and patterns play across its facets before they coalesced into a steady stream of information that only he could decipher. There were others nearby. Loath though he was to admit it, he would need the assistance of outsiders to complete this burdensome task.

He traced a design across the face of the crystal with one finger which caused a door to appear before him as though out of thin air. He stepped through this portal without hesitation, his mind filled with dark thoughts. He mused to himself as he crossed the threshold, the best laid plans of mice and men…

*****

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 4

And suddenly there's a new and much darker element in the mix.

Has this 'being' been released by the experiment on Pierosh II or is its appearance merely a byproduct?

If the being's powers are simply being tested at this stage then its full powers may be truly devastating.

I'm once again enjoying the detailed descriptions of shipboard life as well as the larger quadrant wide political machinations. Couldn't agree more with TLR when he talks about Sandhurst's little moment of self control. It's the detail, love it!

And you know the old saying - You can take the Orion out of the Syndicate, but you can't take the Syndicate out of the Orion. Some things remain constant it seems, though Kutav would never know just why it was he acted in such a reckless and ultimately fatal way.

Damn you Sam, I'm supposed to be writing not reading! Like I can get away from it now!

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 5

Proving once again that Starfleet knew how to build 'em back in the day, Gibraltar survives but barely. That sub-space weapon is bad mojo.

Though it would seem that's something that isn't in short supply in this system.

Another teasing glimpse at the 'being' tied inexplicably to the planet shows us its hunger and potential for harm while a mysterious figure with an agenda of his own is revealed.

You sure know how to build tension Sam! Where are the bloody publishing scouts when you need them?

 

[Gibraltar]

Chapter 4

And suddenly there's a new and much darker element in the mix.

Has this 'being' been released by the experiment on Pierosh II or is its appearance merely a byproduct?

If the being's powers are simply being tested at this stage then its full powers may be truly devastating.

I'm once again enjoying the detailed descriptions of shipboard life as well as the larger quadrant wide political machinations. Couldn't agree more with TLR when he talks about Sandhurst's little moment of self control. It's the detail, love it!

And you know the old saying - You can take the Orion out of the Syndicate, but you can't take the Syndicate out of the Orion. Some things remain constant it seems, though Kutav would never know just why it was he acted in such a reckless and ultimately fatal way.

Damn you Sam, I'm supposed to be writing not reading! Like I can get away from it now!

My apologies for being so damn distracting! Glad to hear you're liking the little details and the day-to-day goings-on aboard ship, I've tried to render the crew with as much 'realism' as possible.

 

[Gibraltar]

Chapter 5

Proving once again that Starfleet knew how to build 'em back in the day, Gibraltar survives but barely. That sub-space weapon is bad mojo.

Though it would seem that's something that isn't in short supply in this system.

Another teasing glimpse at the 'being' tied inexplicably to the planet shows us its hunger and potential for harm while a mysterious figure with an agenda of his own is revealed.

You sure know how to build tension Sam! Where are the bloody publishing scouts when you need them?

Indeed, strange things are afoot at the Circle-K... um... er... I mean, on Pierosh II.

 

[unusualsuspex]

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Her eyes fluttered open then snapped closed immediately at the bright lights overhead. A familiar voice called to her soothingly, “It’s alright, Lieutenant. You’re back aboard Gibraltar.” It was Lt. Taiee.

Olivia Juneau tried to sit up, only to find she was secured beneath a restraining field. She opened her eyes again cautiously against the glare and saw Taiee’s face appear above her, smiling warmly. “Don’t struggle, Olivia. Everything’s fine, you’re home.”

Her throat was dry, her mouth parched, but somehow Juneau managed to form the word, “Crew?”

A brief flicker of concern passed over Taiee’s face. “We can discuss that later. For right now all you need to be concerned with is that you’re alright and in good hands.”

Juneau nodded weakly, and ceased straining against the field. She couldn’t recall anything after the shockwave had struck Brahmaputra. She wanted to insist that Taiee tell her the fate of her crewmates, but she was so exhausted that it took every ounce of strength she could muster to even remain awake.

Just beneath the surface of her conscious mind, her alter ego lurked, watching and waiting. There was an opportunity here, something much more suited to her abilities than planting experimental devices in the ship’s engineering section, as she had been tasked to do prior to the Lakesh mission. Whatever was happening in the Pierosh system was clearly a threat to Federation security. When the opportunity arose, she would contact her handler and request instructions. Until then, she would play her part, and allow the angst-ridden Olivia to wrestle with the aftermath of her first, abortive command.

*****

Taiee injected Juneau with a mild sedative that sent the young woman to sleep. Her injuries were serious, but not life threatening. Smoke inhalation and some bruised organs were the worst of it, and she was in far better condition than her two surviving comrades from the runabout.

Fortunately Taiee was not only good at her job, she was practical enough to call for help when someone’s condition was beyond her capabilities. She had activated one of the ship’s two Emergency Medical Holograms, and assisted as the photonic doctor had repaired the more severe injuries sustained by Ensign Shanthi and CPO Osterlund. Every time she worked alongside the EMH she learned something new, and today had been no different. She pitied those physicians who were so insecure that they could not bring themselves to activate the holograms for fear of calling their own abilities into doubt.

She walked over to another biobed, this one containing the enigmatic Lar’ragos. He had collapsed along with ninety-five percent of the crew following the subspace shockwave that had engulfed Gibraltar. Despite the best efforts of the med-techs on the bridge as well as her own attempts, Lar’ragos had resisted being revived and was now under observation in Sickbay.

Taiee had checked the Starfleet medical database, the interlinked archive accessible by every ship and outpost in the Fleet. El Aurians were a mysterious people, and although the workings of their various internal organs were known to medical science, their special psionic abilities were still an unknown variable in their makeup. She found a single reference, from a Doctor Beverly Crusher of the Enterprise-D, that suggested the El Aurian civilian assigned to that ship may have been hypersensitive to changes or disruptions in the immediate time/space continuum. The notation had been flagged for future inquiry by Starfleet Medical, but it appeared that no further research into this area had ever been done.

Her scans of his brain indicated that his neurotransmitter levels had increased by twenty-percent, but she couldn’t localize the activity to any one section of his neural structure. The EMH had recommended a broad-spectrum anti-inflammatory and a mild neurotransmitter inhibitor. Taiee loaded a hypospray and injected Lar’ragos, then patted his shoulder gently. “Pava my dear, you are a mess.”

She hoped that some prolonged rest might give the El Aurian’s body a chance to decompress from its hyper-vigilant state. Whatever was tormenting him, Taiee surmised that it had surfaced recently after Gibraltar’s first mission.

As Lar’ragos slept, he dreamed.

*****

Vot’u-Shay City
Planet Dabroth, Ig’Vean Principalities
Delta Quadrant
Circa 1983 A.D., Terran Calendar

It was the textbook definition of a backwater planet, the fifth such world that the 507th Royal Fusiliers had been assigned to in the past three years. A technological mélange of the ancient and state-of-the-art, Vot’u-Shay City was the headquarters for Dabroth’s merchant warlords. These men trafficked in all manner of goods: narcotics, weapons, slaves, and even did a brisk business in the sale and transport of humanoid organs into the quarantined and blockaded Vidiian Sodality.

The subahdar leaned against the side of the crumbling tenement, shrouded in the suffocating multi-layered robes that were worn by the natives to protect against Dabroth’s glaring sun and churning sandstorms. He was hot, itchy, and irritable. His plasma pulse rifle was dangling from a shoulder harness beneath his robes, but even if the locals could have seen it, they’d have given him little notice. Everyone here was armed; it was a society whose only laws flowed from the gun barrels of the warlord elite.

The city stretched out to the horizon. It was a decaying, fetid mishmash of multistory mud-brick hovels interspersed with stark glass and metal towers which looked as though they had been intentionally misplaced here by some capricious deity. There were few straight avenues, and much of the city was a rabbit’s warren of interconnecting roads and alleyways. Some of the streets had been paved centuries earlier, but now they consisted of dirt and the ever-present blowing sand. Above the buildings was a crazed web of electrical power lines that crisscrossed the skyline and created a confusing buzz of electromagnetic interference that played hell with Hekosian scanners.

The people here, clad in the ubiquitous shaura robes moved with the slow deliberation of those without hope for the future. Chaos and squalor was all they knew, and for them there could be no other way.

The Empire had come to change all that.

“Unit One to Lead, we’re in position.” The message crackled in the earpiece of his comms headset.

The subahdar accessed the chronometer displayed across the special contact lens in his left eye. T + 1 minute. They were running late. He keyed his mic, “Copy, standby. Awaiting confirmation of target’s presence.”

“Boss, the skimmer’s idling. They can’t hang there much longer without attracting attention.”

His voice took on a stern edge. “Copy. I said standby.”

He sensed someone approaching and instinctively grasped the handle of his combat knife in the sheath on his leg as he turned to confront the new arrival. It was only Nellit. The man waggled his eyebrows expressively at the subahdar; the gesture spoke volumes even though only his eyes were visible through his layered shaura. “Greetings, boss. Aren’t we about due to start spreading hate and discontent?”

“We’re on hold,” the subahdar hissed.

Nellit’s impatience was evident in his stance. “He’s not in there, Pava. We’ve got hard intel that he’s spending the night in Lort, and you damn well know it. Wishing on all the stars in the night sky won’t make it otherwise.” Nellit reached out a hand encased in a thick tactical glove and grasped the subahdar’s arm. “I know you were hoping for a shot at the old man himself, but that’s not the Op.” His grip hardened, conveying conviction as well as mounting anger. “Either give the word or scrub the mission.”

After a moment, 1st Subahdar Pava Lar’ragos gave a terse, reluctant nod. In response, Nellit fumbled with something bulky beneath his robes and began moving towards the main entrance of the warlord Jebrosk’s multistory compound. He keyed the comms and Lar’ragos barked, “Sandstorm! Repeat, Sandstorm! All teams go!”

Instantly, a dozen of the shrouded, shuffling figures in the streets surrounding Jebrosk’s dilapidated palace surged into action. They cast aside their robes in favor of the desert patterned camouflage and ballistic armor hidden beneath. The soldiers charged the building as they freed their plasma rifles and laser carbines and scanned the vicinity for prospective targets.

A series of loud snapping noises overhead heralded the deaths of the warlord’s rooftop spotters on the surrounding buildings, eliminated by the 507th’s pre-positioned snipers. One of the spotters, felled from the roof above Lar’ragos, thudded into the dusty street just meters away from the subahdar.

Nellit dropped to one knee in the middle of the street, flinging his shaura away from him and hefting a menacing looking tetryon cannon to his shoulder. He took careful aim and fired. The weapon sent a white hot bolt of energy into the main entryway of the building, obliterating the massive and ornate wierwood doors, as well as the four bodyguards the team knew to be stationed on the other side.

The scream of the skimmer’s engines announced its arrival as the squat craft, bristling with weapons ports and studded with missiles, flared out to a hover above the target building. The aft hatch dropped open, and a squad of fusiliers jumped down onto the roof and engaged the few surviving roof sentries with short, controlled bursts of fire. Using shaped demolition charges, they blew their own entry points through the ceiling and stormed the top floor, catching the defenders who lurked near the stairwells to the roof by surprise.

The ground level assault team blasted through the building’s reinforced first story windows, then hurled concussion grenades inside that detonated with muffled thumps. The raiders lined up in entry team formation to one side of the now shattered main doorway, then rushed inside, covering pre-assigned quadrants of fire.

The fight for control of the compound was brief, and ridiculously one-sided. They took the structure floor by floor, exercising speed and violence to overcome the remaining guards. Within five minutes it was over. The sounds of battle from within the building began to wane, and moments later Lar’ragos observed a line of civilians, hands atop their heads, being marched out of the entryway and into the street.

The fusiliers had them kneel in the street, dropping reluctantly to the scorching sand and gravel. These were Jebrosk’s wives, children, cousins, courtesans, retainers, and a handful of his security detail who’d chosen the humiliation of capture over certain death at the hands of the 507th.

Lar’ragos motioned to one of his men, who lowered his rifle and raised a holocamera. He focused on the subahdar with the captured civilians arrayed behind him in the background. Pava pulled the hood of the shaura back to expose his face to the camera. “Iton-mai Jebrosk, the Hekosian Empire approached you with the hand of friendship. We offered you trade and the promise of greater influence for your clan with the offworld commerce guilds. In return for your fealty, the Empire would have awarded you the protection of our laws and the soldiers who enforce them.” Lar’ragos spat theatrically into the sand at his feet. “You dismissed our entreaties, and executed our envoy.”

He stepped aside to allow the camera to pan across the faces of the prisoners. “Now your family and loyal followers are in our hands. They shall remain safe and healthy, so long as you sign our treaty in good faith and abide by its provisions.” The camera zoomed in on the El Aurian’s severe expression. “If you refuse, we’ll send them back to you, a piece at a time.”

Lar’ragos made a cutting motion at his neck, and the soldier ceased recording. He activated his comms and the subahdar ordered, “Fusiliers, we are leaving!” He swung his arm in a circular motion above his head as a sign for his men to assemble for exfiltration; it was an anachronistic gesture, a throwback to the days when the Hekosian military used rotary aircraft for troop transport. The skimmer roared overhead and then settled slowly into the street to collect the platoon and their prisoners.

Taking the camera’s holodisk from his subordinate, Lar’ragos stalked across the road to the side of the building. He pulled a plasma flare from his tactical vest and ignited it. With swift, brutal strokes he carved a crude representation of the Hekosian Royal Crest into the wall, and then dropped the holodisk on the sand beneath the smoldering graffiti.

The departing platoon hustled the prisoners aboard the skimmer, pushing or dragging those who resisted. Lar’ragos lagged behind to cover their egress with a handful of troopers until he was the only one remaining. He took a last look around, then spat again into the shifting sands of Dabroth as he bid the miserable planet farewell. He stepped up onto the landing ramp as he shook his head. For honor… for Empire, he thought wryly as the whine of the powering engines drowned out the sounds of whimpering hostages.

*****

 

[unusualsuspex]

Ok, you caught me out with Juneau! I believed her 'insight' had been a possible contact from the captive being. FAIL! A whole new avenue of deception and intrigue has suddenly opened up!

Taiee seems to be the consumate professional. Those holo-docs ain't there for show and as well as their professional abilities, the knock on of Taiee learning is a bonus.

What can I say about Pava's flashback/dream? Stunning action narrative and description Sam. It painted a vivid picture for me of the operation and locale which is exactly what good literature SHOULD do! Kudos!

Of course it also gave us another insight into a troubled man's past. Wonder just how this shockwave is going to affect hin in the long run?

 

[Count Zero]

You're weaving a complex and intricate story here. Every time I think we know all the basics, you add another layer.
I loved the insight we got into Pava's past here. The Hekosian Empire - not bad. Are they your own invention or did they appear in a book?
I'm also very intrigued by Juneau's story line. Poor girl.

And who was the mysterious man at the end of the chapter before the last?

 

[Gibraltar]

You're weaving a complex and intricate story here. Every time I think we know all the basics, you add another layer.
I loved the insight we got into Pava's past here. The Hekosian Empire - not bad. Are they your own invention or did they appear in a book?
I'm also very intrigued by Juneau's story line. Poor girl.

And who was the mysterious man at the end of the chapter before the last?

The Hekosian Empire is my own creation, actually. Glad you're enjoying how the story is unfolding. Thanks for the feedback.

 

[Gibraltar]

Ok, you caught me out with Juneau! I believed her 'insight' had been a possible contact from the captive being. FAIL! A whole new avenue of deception and intrigue has suddenly opened up!

And we've only just scratched the surface.

Taiee seems to be the consumate professional. Those holo-docs ain't there for show and as well as their professional abilities, the knock on of Taiee learning is a bonus.

For Taiee, they're far too valuable a tool to pass up. And given the restrictions of her limited skill-set, they're quite simply a necessity.

What can I say about Pava's flashback/dream? Stunning action narrative and description Sam. It painted a vivid picture for me of the operation and locale which is exactly what good literature SHOULD do! Kudos!

Thank you for the kind words.

Of course it also gave us another insight into a troubled man's past. Wonder just how this shockwave is going to affect hin in the long run?

Pava's like an onion. He has lots of layers... and he generally makes people cry.

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

USS Gibraltar, Transporter Room 2
In geo-synchronous orbit of Pierosh II

Ramirez hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the bustle and camaraderie of away team prep. This was her first away mission in six weeks, and as she and the rest of the team geared up, she felt a momentary twinge of nostalgia for those bright, naïve days before the Dominion War. Exploration, diplomacy, science; such things had been given short shrift during the bloody conflict.

She regretted that Lar’ragos was still confined to Sickbay. Despite whatever recent issues he might be having, his tactical abilities in the field made him a welcome addition to any landing party. In his stead, Master Chief Tark would be leading the team’s security contingent, comprised of three additional security personnel. Taiee and a medical technician would render aid to any injured discovered on the surface. Plazzi and Ashok rounded out the team.

Loaded for bear with phaser sidearms, tricorders, field jackets, and various specialized equipment, the team stood ready. Ramirez briefly inspected them to make sure everyone had a full compliment of gear. “I’ll beam down first with the security team to ensure the landing zone is safe. Once we signal things are clear, we’ll bring the rest of you down.” She turned to Taiee. “Lieutenant, you’re sure about the radiation danger?”

“Yes, sir,” the nurse practitioner replied. “The hyronaline boosters I’ve given the away team members should suffice to offset any moderate elevation in radiation levels encountered on the surface.” Ramirez had wanted to avoid encasing the away team in the bulky, cumbersome radiation-hardened EVA suits. If an ambush awaited them on the planet, she didn’t want the team facing the threat with the added disadvantages of poor visibility and decreased mobility.

Ramirez directed an appraising look at Plazzi. “And we’re not going to get fried by some unexpected radiation surge, right Commander?”

The older scientist shrugged awkwardly as he struggled into his field jacket. “Latest sensor readings show that the ambient radiation levels have gone back down to near normal.” He fastened the jacket, made an irritated face, and busied himself rearranging the placement of his gear for the third time. “Since we don’t know what caused the radiation spike and the shockwave in the first place, I can’t tell you if or when it might recur.” He gave the XO a blasé smile. “But that’s okay. I’m in Starfleet. We live for danger.”

Tark snorted, Taiee chuckled, and Ramirez rolled her eyes. “And on that note…” Ramirez stepped onto the transporter dais, followed by the master chief and his security team. They assumed a tactical beam-in formation, all five facing outwards with phasers rifles at the ready. She nodded to the transporter operator. “Energize.”

*****

Pierosh II
Meteorological Research Station Aristotle

Wonderful. It’s Planet Shale. That was Ramirez’s first thought as she looked out across the featureless landscape surrounding the survey station. It appeared as if the entire surface of the world had been littered with the chipped away refuse from some gigantic rock quarry. No vegetation, no water, no distractions of any kind to break up the monotonous vista. The flat, loose stones stretched out in all directions and gave the planet a chillingly desolate feel; a world of crushed rock under steel gray skies.

"Charming," Ramirez quipped. “Now that I’ve seen it, I’ll have to cancel my next trip to Risa.” She glanced at the sensor window displayed on her rifle’s scope. “Clear on my side. Master Chief?”

“Same here,” Tark affirmed. The other three offered identical reports. They broke out their tricorders, which had greater range and sensitivity than their tactical scanners. The security team probed for hidden traps or devices, but found nothing.

Ramirez tapped the compin affixed to her survival jacket. “Ramirez to Gibraltar. All clear planetside. Send down the rest of the team.”

A moment later, Plazzi, Ashok, Taiee and Medical Specialist Yoichi materialized. Taiee frowned and zipped her jacket to the top in deference to the biting wind that whipped across the plain. Plazzi’s eyes lit up upon seeing the surrounding panorama, the geologist in him thrilled by the forces that created this environment.

The exec ordered the security team into a perimeter around the specialists, and headed off towards the survey station, some two kilometers distant. The station was nearly as dreary as its surroundings. It was comprised of a series of boxy, two story structures interconnected by elevated walkways; a cubist’s dream. Plated with drab green weather resistant tritanium sheeting, the buildings had long, narrow windows and nests of antennae and sensor arrays extruding from their roofs.

As they approached, Plazzi noted, “No power signatures, Commander. When the facility was operational, it was supposed to be run on four mega-wattage fusion reactors, one in each structure.”

“Radiation levels?” the exec inquired.

“Nominal for the moment. I am, however, reading slightly elevated gamma emissions from the southeastern most building.”

In response, Ramirez turned to Taiee. The nurse looked up from her own tricorder to meet Ramirez’s eyes. “Still within safety parameters, sir.”

“Then that’s where we’ll head first.”

*****

With half the security team taking point and the other half bringing up the rear, they cautiously entered the structure. Not only was the building without power, it appeared every electronic device in the structure had been violently disrupted. They had been forced to cut through the doors at the entrance with their phasers. Lighting fixtures dangled from the ceiling by charred optical cabling, and computer terminals were blackened or partially melted.

Ashok paused to shine his palm beacon onto a scorched door control panel as he scanned it with his tricorder. In response to Ramirez’s questioning look, he muttered, “Electromagnetic pulse, Commander. A big one. Would have corrupted every electronic component within kilometers of here.”

“Is that the result of a weapon used on the facility, or something that originated here?”

The massive Bolian snapped his tricorder shut with a flick of his wrist as he leveled a carefully neutral expression at his superior. “Don’t know yet.”

From up ahead, PO2 Dunleavy from the security detachment called out, “I’ve… got something.” There was a strained quality to her voice that spurred the others ahead double-time.

The sight was so remarkable that even Taiee involuntarily gasped. A man, human by the look of him, slouched awkwardly from where the chair that he had presumably been seated in had somehow joined with his torso. It appeared that the man had become momentarily incorporeal, and had begun to fall through the chair towards the floor, only to regain his solidity just in time for his abdominal cavity to fuse with the seat.

“Please take your seats,” Plazzi said, his voice barely above a whisper. Nobody laughed.

Taiee crouched next to the man and ran the sensor wand from her medical tricorder over him. “I’m reading massive cellular disruption. Fortunately, whatever did this killed him instantly.”

Ramirez forced herself to look away from the ghastly sight. “Yes. Fortunately,” she echoed, unable to mask the irony in her tone. “So, now we know that there were people home in our supposedly abandoned research outpost.” She snuck a peek at Taiee’s tricorder over the nurse's shoulder and asked, “What would you estimate the time of death was?”

“Somewhere between fifteen and twenty hours ago.”

Ramirez nodded. “Right about the time of the shockwave that crippled Brahmaputra, then.” She gestured to the lead security detail and the exec instructed, “Let’s keep going.”

They proceeded further into the building, passing laboratories that looked as if they had been struck by miniature tornados, and living quarters and office cubicles that appeared untouched aside from their now defunct electronic systems.

Finally they reached the main operations center. The team members swept their lights across the various shattered computer banks as their boots crunched on shards of polymers blown free from workstations and monitors.

Taiee’s frozen breath billowed in her searchlight’s beam as she probed the darkness with it. Something caught her attention, a computer console that didn’t look quite right. She approached, her brain having difficulty deciphering what her eyes were telling her. “Found another one. I think.”

A Tellarite female had collapsed onto her workstation, but her arm and part of her head had taken on the properties of the workstation itself. An older style console, it was studded with push buttons, toggles and switches, some of which now extruded from the metallic mass of the woman’s skull and arm.

Ramirez called Ashok over to where the woman lay. She gestured towards the body. “Could an EM pulse do that, Lieutenant?”

Ashok inspected the macabre scene, then delivered his succinct analysis. “No.”

She gave the Bolian an incredulous look as she pried further. “What could, Mister Ashok?”

“Something else we’ve yet to encounter, sir.”

Ramirez bit back a snide reply about Ashok’s grasp of the obvious, keenly aware that her own discomfort with this eerie place was agitating her. She admonished herself silently, Don’t take it out on your people, Liana. Instead, she hailed Gibraltar to give the ship a brief update on what they’d discovered so far while the rest of the team continued their examination of the operations center.

A few moments later, she noticed Tark squatting on his haunches near a bank of wrecked computer processors affixed to one wall. He was studying his tricorder intently as she approached. “Something of note, Master Chief?”

Tark wiped the face of his tricorder across one sleeve to remove the crystallized water vapor from his exhalations that had clouded the display. “Yes, sir. There are three sublevels beneath the power plant in the basement.”

Ramirez frowned. “And…?”

The grizzled Tellarite looked up at her. “And they’re not in the design specs for the station that we requested from the Federation Science Directorate.”

Her frown grew more severe as Ramirez postulated, “An unintentional omission?”

Tark stood, stifling a groan as his old soldier’s knees crackled in protest. “I don’t think so, Commander.” He held his tricorder up for her inspection. “Those levels aren’t accessible from the power plant, only through what appears to be a hidden stairwell located behind one of those processor towers.”

She looked past the tricorder at the bank of processors then muttered some choice phrases in Cardassian under her breath. Then, more loudly, “A secret compartment and a hidden stairwell leading to underground chambers? You have got to be kidding.”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

They approached the wall and Ramirez played her palm beacon’s beam into the seams between the processor towers. She handed the light to Tark, then squeezed her fingers into the gap between two towers and pulled. “Nothing. It won’t budge.”

“Scans show there’s a small motor mechanism in the wall. It was probably activated by a switch somewhere in this room.” Tark drew his phaser pistol; the weapon chirped as he increased the power setting. “Stand back, sir.”

She retreated quickly from the towers and looked on as Tark directed a brief yet surgical phaser beam that vaporized two of the processors and part of a third. Behind them, as promised, was a small doorway leading to a staircase.

She swept her light down the stairs, and looked back to the away team. “Plazzi, call the ship and let them know what that phaser fire was before we have a rescue team beaming into our midst.” She started down the stairs. “Oh, and tell the captain we found stairs.” Ramirez grinned nervously and paused for dramatic effect. “Tell him… they go down.”

*****

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 8

Chapter 8

USS Gibraltar
In geo-synchronous orbit of Pierosh II

Orbit was a bad thing. Ensign Lightner hated orbit. Having to park the ship around a planet and continue to stand watch at the Flight Control station was like someone’s sick idea of purgatory for a pilot. There isn’t enough coffee in the entire galaxy, he thought glumly. Lightner sat quietly and merely observed the ship’s automated systems as they made minute course corrections to hold their orbital position above the survey station.

Captain Sandhurst had been in the ready room for the past hour, fielding subspace inquiries as to the mission’s progress from multiple divisions of Starfleet Command and more than one delegate of the Federation Science Council. If the incoming comms signatures had been accurate, it seemed that the Pierosh system was suddenly the hottest spot on the border.

Repairs continued throughout the ship as engineering teams attended to the remaining damage caused by the enemy subspace charge. It appeared to Lightner that they were having difficulty reassembling the shield grid, which did not bode well if they were to be subject to further attacks.

With Lar’ragos out of commission and the rest of the senior staff on the surface, Ensign Qawasimi, the assistant chief of security, sat in the captain’s chair. Lightner fretted about not having been asked to take the conn by the captain. It was, he decided, just one more prize denied him since his graduation from the academy some three months earlier.

Though not as depressed as he had originally been, Lightner still bemoaned his assignment to Gibraltar. He had graduated in the top third of his academy class, and had even flown on the academy’s elite aerobatics team during his plebe year. As such he’d requested a posting to a combat fighter wing or one of Starfleet’s smaller, more maneuverable starships, such as the Saber-class. He was enough of a pragmatist to understand that not everyone got their preference of assignment, no matter their graduation standing. Nevertheless, he was convinced that in his case there was more to it.

He had been born and raised on Ronara Prime, a Federation colony along the Federation/Cardassian border that would eventually fall within the Demilitarized Zone. Lightner had grown up hating the provincial feel of the small settlement, certain he was living his life lightyears away from where anything of consequence was happening. In the face of the newly established DMZ and the rising tensions along the border, his family relocated to the Rudyard Colonies the same year Brett was accepted to Starfleet Academy. All except his older brother Kyle.

Flying in the face of reason, Kyle had run off and joined the Maquis. His brother, although rated at a genius level IQ as a child, hadn’t the common sense of a housefly in Brett’s opinion. Fortunately, he proved as incompetent a freedom fighter as he had at any of his other endeavors, and was quickly apprehended by Starfleet. Kyle had spent the last three years in a Federation penal settlement on Alpha Centauri, growing angrier and ever more embittered. Brett had tried to correspond with him, but Kyle froze both he and his parents out.

Brett believed it was his brother’s unsavory ties to the Maquis that had cost him a more noteworthy first assignment. It wasn’t officially sanctioned discrimination, of course, but the results were just the same. Someone up the chain of command had decided that Brett might hold Maquis sympathies too, despite all evidence to the contrary.

It wasn’t as if his posting to Gibraltar had been a total disaster; he had seen plenty of action on their first mission. The intervening weeks of drudge work had left him aching for greener pastures, however.

Seated next to Lightner at Operations, Ensign Browder sat forward slightly and made note of something as he examined the readout of a routine surface scan. Momentarily shaken from his funk, Lightner glanced over at Browder’s board. Browder looked behind him to Ensign Qawasimi. “I’m reading a phaser discharge on the surface, Ensign.”

Qawasimi stood and moved down into the well to take a look for himself. “I’d concur, Mister Browder.” He turned towards the closed ready room door as he reached for his compin, “Cap—“ The incoming hail cut him off.

“Plazzi to Gibraltar, we’ve just cut through a bank of computers with phasers to get at a hidden doorway. Be advised, we’ve apparently discovered some deliberately hidden levels beneath the facility. We’re moving to investigate.”

Qawasimi toggled the comms control at Browder’s station. “Gibraltar copies, Commander. Standing by for further updates.”

The security ensign looked somewhat disappointed as he ascended to the command chair and resumed his seat. Lightner turned in his chair to face him as he grinned and inclined his head towards the small replicator terminal at the back of the bridge. “More coffee, Ensign?”

Qawasimi’s reply was cut short as the doors to the ready room hissed open. A very tense looking Captain Sandhurst emerged, massaging the back of his neck with one hand. He looked at the ensign in the command chair. “If anyone else needs to talk to me, tell them I’m unavailable and will get back to them as soon as possible.” With that, the captain headed for the turbolift.

Conscientious of his responsibility as the duty watch officer, Qawasimi quickly recited, “Sir, the away team reports having located some hidden levels to the survey station. They’re checking them out now.”

Sandhurst nodded. “Very well. Keep me apprised of anything noteworthy, Mister Qawasimi.”

“Aye, sir. And… where will you be, sir?”

Sandhurst stepped into the lift car as a faint smile graced his lips. “In Engineering, getting my hands dirty.”

*****

Olivia Juneau lay atop the biobed, sleeping peacefully. Though cleared medically hours earlier to resume duty, her psychological state had Taiee worried enough that she’d ordered Juneau to remain for observation. Gibraltar was too small a ship to warrant a counselor, and with Taiee planet-side and the EMH in charge, the medical department’s psychiatric assets were nil.

So, Juneau had been sedated and left to rest until Taiee’s return. This proved utterly intolerable to the junior lieutenant’s alter ego, which refused to be incapacitated due to the inherent weaknesses of her host. Determined to take charge of the situation, she flooded Juneau’s system with the appropriate cocktail of endorphins and adrenaline to offset the sedative and clawed her way back to consciousness. She would be far from one-hundred percent and would remain lethargic and addled, but she would be able to function for long enough to free herself from Sickbay.

Her eyes slammed open, and she found herself once again beneath the damnable restraining field. “Doctor,” she croaked as she struggled to regain her voice and equilibrium.

The EMH approached, a perturbed expression on its photonic features. “Lieutenant? You shouldn’t be awake.” The hologram studied Juneau’s biometric readouts on the display at the head of the bed. “That’s very odd…”

Juneau fought to keep focus as she dumped more adrenaline into her system to correct for her swimming vision and impossibly heavy eyelids. “Doctor, I’m thinking of a number…”

The Mark I EMH, never known for its winning bedside manner, was having none of it. “I’m sure you are, Lieutenant.” It stepped away from the biobed and reached for a hypospray and another sedative ampoule.

Juneau wrestled with her leaden tongue as she forced the words out. “...it’s a prime number…”

The EMH charged the hypo as it nodded distractedly. “Mmm-hmm.” It approached, poised to inject her.

“…that number is thirty-one.” The EMH stopped in its tracks as if frozen. The expression on its face shifted from one of professional irritation to that of helpful anticipation.

“How may I be of assistance?” it inquired.

Juneau sighed and silently thanked the brilliant engineers centuries earlier who had subtly grafted emergency overrides not only into the operating programming of all Starfleet systems, but into the very hardware that supported them. They had remained there through successive generations of advances and upgrades, undetected. They were rarely used, so as to avoid exposure, but when absolutely necessary they proved invaluable.

“Release the restraining field and give me the appropriate stimulant to counteract the sedative.”

“Right away, Lieutenant.”

*****

Pierosh II
Meteorological Research Station Aristotle

Thirty minutes and several wrecked rooms later, Ramirez and company stood before a sealed pressure door situated one level above what their scans indicated was the actual lowest level of the building. Ashok and Tark examined the blast door carefully for a few minutes as they pointed to one another’s tricorders and muttered in terminologies that Ramirez would not pretend to understand.

Ashok finally gave his professional assessment. “The door is heavily reinforced, Commander.”

“We can’t cut through it with phasers?”

Tark spoke up, “I wouldn’t recommend it, sir. We’d have to put our phasers on a high enough setting that we’d risk destroying whatever’s on the other side, including any forensic evidence.”

Ramirez turned to Plazzi. “Can we have the ship beam us to the other side?”

The scientist referenced his tricorder. “Not with the levels of chroniton radiation in the vicinity, sir. Chronometric particles and transporters don’t play well together.”

“Okay, then. Suggestions?”

Ashok held up his engineering kit. “I have a battery pack, sir. I could attempt to power the locking mechanism and run a bypass.”

The exec nodded curtly. “Do it.”

She stepped aside to give the lieutenant room to work. Ramirez observed that whatever his failings in the area of interpersonal relations, the man attacked an engineering problem with the tenacity of a Caldorian eel. It took less than five minutes for Ashok to run a successful bypass and the door cycled open with a pneumatic sigh.

The room on the other side was illuminated by a wavering bluish light that emanated from a large transparent aluminum observation window that ran nearly the entire length of the room’s far wall. The now familiar sight of blown out control consoles and the scent of burning electronics were evident here, as well as a number of humanoid bodies strewn about the room.

Taiee started to move towards them, only to find herself restrained by Ramirez’s arm on her bicep. The exec nodded towards the security team and murmured, “Let them do their jobs, Doc.” Taiee blushed, rightly admonished. Tark and his people quickly swept the room to secure it from potential threats.

The Tellarite’s tricorder began to warble and he appeared to be following it towards something of interest. “I’ve got life signs,” he announced. Ramirez and Taiee moved to assist him as Plazzi wandered towards the viewing windows, tricorder in hand.

Tark found him beneath a mound of debris. An exploding computer processor had collapsed onto the man, who appeared to be a Caucasian human in his mid-to-late sixties. Dressed in a now torn and blackened lab coat, the man stared at the away team members wild eyed. His mouth moved soundlessly as his one free hand clawed at the air. Taiee began scanning him even as the others worked to remove the debris from atop him.

“I’m seeing erratic neural activity, weakened pulse, and signs of systemic shock.” Taiee focused on Ramirez. “We’ve got to get this man back to the ship, and fast.”

“Didn’t…” the man gurgled desperately, “didn’t mean…”

The exec stood and gestured to Dunleavy and Bostwick from the security detail. “Assist Taiee in getting him to the surface for emergency beam-out.” They quickly unfolded a collapsible litter from Dunleavy’s pack, and gently set the injured man onto it.

As Taiee led them out of the room, Ashok approached Ramirez and loomed over her uncomfortably until she turned to acknowledge him. “What have you got, Lieutenant?”

The Bolian waved a hand towards the surrounding equipment. “None of these systems have anything to do with meteorological studies, Commander. Much of it is non-Federation in nature. I’ve found Ferengi, Angosian, and Nyberrite systems components.”

Ramirez took a moment to look around the room. “Any idea what they were doing here?”

From his vantage point at the viewing gallery, Plazzi replied to Ramirez in a voice laden with tension, “I’ve got a pretty good idea, sir.” He cleared his throat nervously. “You’ll want to take a look at this.”

Ramirez approached the observation windows with the others in tow. She barely contained the sharp intake of breath that threatened to escape her lips as she got her first glimpse of the thing in all it’s horribly beauty.

Some fifteen meters below them, sandwiched between what appeared to be two ruined subspace field coils, was a bright, roiling mass of energy. It was in constant motion, expanding and contracting while it emitted crackling electrical discharges and sinuous ribbons of bluish plasma.

She pursed her lips in consternation and Ramirez inquired, “That what I think it is?”

Plazzi responded in complete deadpan. “If you mean ‘is that a spatial rift and the source of both the radiation anomalies and the shockwave?’" He blew out a shaky sounding breath. "Very likely, sir.”

*****

 

[KJ_A]

I am glad to see you posting this. I read it over at Ad Astra but it is fun to read it again. Geometries of Chance cemented Olivia Juneau a probably my favorite character on Star Trek: Gibraltar it just as Captain Sandhurst's actions in http://www.adastrafanfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=270Prophets and Loss made me look forward to his development as a captain who could rival Kirk in his ability to get into and out of situations.

 

[Gibraltar]

I am glad to see you posting this. I read it over at Ad Astra but it is fun to read it again. Geometries of Chance cemented Olivia Juneau a probably my favorite character on Star Trek: Gibraltar it just as Captain Sandhurst's actions in http://www.adastrafanfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=270Prophets and Loss made me look forward to his development as a captain who could rival Kirk in his ability to get into and out of situations.

Thanks for the kind words!

As for getting himself (and his ship) into trouble, I'd argue Sandhurst has already mastered that skill. Getting out of it, though... that he's still working on.

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Ahmet Kutav’s return to consciousness was as abrupt as if he had been doused with a bucket of ice water. He found himself suddenly and inexplicably awake, immobilized and suspended in a shaft of white light in black void whose dimensions eluded him. Kutav’s first thought was that he fervently hoped this was not the afterlife. His mortal existence had been a lavish parade of sensuality and excess. The thought that death might be an exercise in austerity terrified him.

Echoing footfalls presaged the arrival of a human male. Clad in dark, layered clothing under a flowing cloak of the same color, the man’s shock of white hair was incongruous. He was of average height, and appeared to be middle-aged, perhaps approaching seventy.

I hope I’ve not blown myself all the way into the wrong afterlife, Kutav was unable to prevent the mordant thought. Too much trilithium in the destruct charges, perhaps?

After studying Kutav for a long moment, the human was finally moved to speak. He had a deep, distinctive voice, and spoke in exotically accented Federation standard. “So, Orion, might I interest you in a second chance?”

Kutav found his voice right where he had left it, though he was briefly startled at the sound of his own words after believing himself deceased. “I took my own life because I have lost everything of value to me. Can you suggest a reason that I might choose otherwise?”

The man smiled in response, a peculiarly menacing gesture. “Why revenge, of course. You wouldn’t want an opportunity to strike back at those who cost you your reputation and livelihood?”

“I did that to myself.” Kutav was secretly grateful that he still lived, but it was not difficult for him to see where this conversation was heading. He would be puppet to no man.

The human looked momentarily perplexed, then increasingly irritated. “I have need of your help, Orion. If you were to do my bidding in this matter, I would see you repaid at several times the value of your lost ship.”

Kutav sneered. “You believe that’s all it would take to buy my loyalty? The promise of mere profit? You must have me mistaken for a Ferengi.”

The human feigned sadness. “Pity. Over half your crew still lives as well. I am sure at least some of them will agree to my terms. Profit is not all a contract with me entails, but it is a good beginning. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Kutav stalled to bide himself time to consider his dwindling options. He switched tacks and inquired, “Where am I?”

“Aboard my vessel.”

The ahmet pondered that. “And how did I get here?”

The human seemed to struggle with his own impatience, but finally deigned to answer Kutav’s questions though it was obvious he was not used to having to answer to another. “I rescued you and your surviving crew an instant before your ship self-destructed.”

Kutav closed his eyes and willingly let go the illusion of control. He would play this man’s game for a time. Doubtless, when his usefulness had been exhausted, this man would kill him. The trick was knowing when and where that blow would come, and preemptively striking his assailant just a moment sooner. “What must I do?”

The man’s disturbing smile appeared again. “A storm is coming. To prevent our being swept away by it, you and your merry little band of pirates must steal a starship for me.”

*****

Taniss Orbital Station
Demarcation Border, Vidiian Quarantine Zone
Delta Quadrant
Circa 1983 A.D., Terran Calendar

Nellit held the holocam with one hand, sure to keep the subjects in frame despite his vocal reservations with this assignment. He glanced at the man next to him and noted his furrowed brow and rigid posture. “You can still change your mind,” he offered hopefully.

“We’re not having this conversation again,” Lar’ragos growled. The El Aurian’s hands grasped the railing of the observation platform so tightly that they trembled.

Nellit persisted, determined to vent his anger at not only having to watch this travesty, but record it for posterity as well. “It isn’t right, and you know it. Better we had shot them down in the street and left their bodies for Jebrosk to find.”

Lar’ragos stood stiffly, eyes focused like laser beams on the tremulous line of prisoners as they were herded towards their destination. “Better for whom, Nellit? Each one of those people down there will save countless thousands through their sacrifice.”

Nellit barked out a sarcastic laugh, thankful the audio gain on the holocam had been deactivated. “I’m pleased you can justify this to yourself so poetically, boss.”

1st Subahdar Pava Lar’ragos turned to face him, eyes blazing. “Without this gesture, the 507th and all successive Hekosian units assigned to Dabroth would have to repeat this lesson time and again. How many would die, Nellit? Five thousand? Twenty?” He turned his gaze back to the straggling line, as containment-suited Vidiian guards prompted them onto the gangway leading to the waiting transport. Children clutched at their mothers, and the terrified men tried desperately to carry themselves with some degree of dignity.

Lar’ragos imagined that even at this distance he could see the avaricious look in the Vidiian’s eyes at the prospect of so many ‘recruits’ to their cause. The population of the Vidiian Sodality had been infected with a horrific degenerative disease some fifteen hundred years earlier. Known only as the Phage, the disease’s mutagenic nature made it invincible to medical treatments. The syndrome consumed the bodies of its victims by disrupting their genetic code and destroying them on the cellular level. Their decaying, gangrenous bodies were the greatest fear of the local stellar governments, and the Sodality had eventually been cut off and quarantined by their neighbors.

Now, the Sodality harvested the bodies of various humanoids to keep its own infected citizens alive. They had perfected anti-rejection medicines that allowed them to utilize the organs of other species. As luck would have it, the Vidiians’ needs were met illicitly by local governments and criminal syndicates who occasionally needed specific individuals or groups of people to disappear. In return, the Sodality provided their suppliers with a host of advanced medicines researched in their ongoing struggle against the Phage.

Nellit continued to record Warlord Jebrosk’s family and retainers marching reluctantly up the transparent gangway tube and into the hold of the Vidiian ship.

Lar’ragos said quietly, “Jebrosk and the other warlords regularly sell their captured enemies to the Vidiians. They gave us the idea. When the other leaders see this recording, they’ll know exactly how serious the Hekosian Empire is about annexing the Principalities. This one recording will keep us from having to conduct hundreds of raids, and will ultimately save lives, Nellit.”

Nellit switched the recorder off after the last of the prisoners, a woman and her adolescent daughter, were wrestled through the airlock after attempting an ill-fated last-second escape. He gave the subahdar an icy glare. “I’m going to have to take your word on that, boss.” He opened the casing on the holocam, then removed the recording disk and handed it to Lar’ragos. “Last I checked, I was a soldier, not a slaver and certainly not a murderer.” Nellit started back towards the Hekosian navy frigate moored on the opposite side of the station. “Tell me, Pava… which one are you?”

Lar’ragos remained silent and merely watched as the Vidiian transport departed the station and slowly navigated the outpost’s bustling traffic pattern.

“Tell me, Pava… which one are you?”

“Which one are you?”

Nellit’s voice carried across the centuries to echo in Pava’s mind as he slowly drifted back towards consciousness in Gibraltar’s Sickbay.

*****

Sickbay, USS Gibraltar
In geo-synchronous orbit of Pierosh II

By the time the captain had entered the surgical suite, the civilian rescued from the surface was already beneath the raised clamshell support frame on the diagnostic table. The EMH conducted a thorough examination of the patient as Taiee finished treating his injuries.

Sandhurst stood to the side quietly until Taiee approached to make her initial report. “His injuries weren't terribly severe when we got him aboard, Captain. A few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, some internal bleeding due to blunt force trauma, but nothing immediately life threatening. Over all, he should be in stable condition based strictly on the physical injuries he received.”

Sandhurst cocked his head thoughtfully. “I hear a ‘but’ coming…”

Taiee nodded. “Indeed, sir. His autonomic functions are all failing. Neural activity is decreasing, his blood pressure is dropping, and respiration is becoming labored. He seems to be heading towards a complete systemic collapse.” She pointed to what appeared to be a cross-section diagram of a human cell on the wall mounted viewer. “His body’s biochemistry is off. He’s producing hormones, neurotransmitters, and enzymes in the wrong quantities.” She stared at the cellular scan for a moment, then sighed. “Damned if I know what’s wrong with him.”

The captain quirked an eyebrow. “Educated guess?”

She shook her head in response and gestured in the direction of the EMH. “Off hand I’d say something to do with that vortex down there and whatever energies it unleashed. His symptoms aren’t consistent with radiation poisoning per se, but we’ll just have to wait until the doctor completes his examination.” She smiled apologetically. “This could take awhile, sir.”

“I see. Thanks for the update, Doc. Let me know when you have some more answers.” Sandhurst headed for the door and passed into the main Sickbay ward near where Lar’ragos lay atop a biobed. He paused to examine his unconscious friend, whose eyes moved rapidly back and forth beneath his eyelids as his fingers twitched slightly.

The medical staff hadn’t yet been able to explain why Lar’ragos remained comatose, but so far he showed no signs of any neurological damage. Their best assessment was that he would wake up when he was good and ready. Sandhurst desperately hoped they were correct.

He turned to see one of the nursing staff fetching newly awakened Ensign Shanthi a glass of water. He wandered over as he took note of the pain etched into the younger man’s face. “Welcome back, Ensign.” Shanthi, upon seeing him, did an admirable job of trying to sit up straighter in his bed. Sandhurst motioned for him to relax. “At ease, Mister Shanthi.” He pulled a stool over and took a seat. “I’m Donald Sandhurst, captain of the Gibraltar.”

Shanthi drank the water eagerly then set the empty glass aside. “This is Lieutenant Juneau’s ship, isn’t it, sir?”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for the timely rescue, Captain.” Shanthi craned his neck as he looked around Sickbay before he returned his attention to Sandhurst. “My crewmates?”

Sandhurst held his gaze, determined to deliver the bad news stolidly. “Juneau and Chief Osterlund also survived. I’m sorry to say that Petty Officer Shaver did not.”

Shanthi’s face crumbled and became mask of agony so palpable that it managed to evoke empathy from even Sandhurst’s worn heartstrings. It was immediately obvious to the captain that the men had been much more than mere shipmates. It dawned on the captain that as a recent academy graduate, this young man had not yet known the bitter taste of war, the loss of friends and lovers and comrades in the line of duty. For Shanthi, this was likely his first experience with such profound personal tragedy. At a loss for words, Sandhurst merely held Shanthi’s hand as the man wept.

*****

Pierosh II
Meteorological Research Station Aristotle

Liana Ramirez slipped past the cargo crates that now littered the underground lab, sidestepping a bank of analysis equipment manned by one of Lt. Commander Plazzi’s science technicians. She found the older man at the large bay windows, a padd in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee from the portable replicator they had brought down in the other. “How goes it, Elisto?” Ramirez knew the man practically recoiled at being addressed by his rank. He had been recalled to duty during the war after a sixteen year absence from the service, and now thought of himself as a civilian merely playing the part of a Starfleet officer.

Plazzi turned and gave her a wary smile. “Subspace physics isn’t really my forte, Commander, but I’m managing.” He tapped his finger on the transparent aluminum partition as he marveled at the oddity that lay before them. “What worries me is that, technically speaking, this shouldn’t still be here.”

Her gaze fixed on the flickering, churning rift as she asked, “How so?”

“The old aphorism that nature abhors a vacuum applies here, sir. This is an active, stable subspace portal. They simply don’t occur in nature very often, and when they do, they’re extremely short lived.”

“Meaning?”

Plazzi pointed to the two shattered subspace field coils that bracketed the rift’s open maw. “It appears to have been opened at this end. For what reasons, we still don’t have a clue. Regardless, the laws of the physical universe would naturally work to close such a wormhole immediately, especially in the absence of an energy source employed to hold it open.”

He waved an arm towards the wrecked laboratory surrounding them. “The initial pulse destroyed everything here, Commander.”

Ramirez digested that slowly. Her eyes widened after a moment as she concluded, “Something’s holding it open from the other end.”

He nodded somberly. “That’d be my guess.”

Their mutual discomfort with that idea was interrupted by an energetic voice from behind them. “Could you use another hand, Commander?”

Ramirez and Plazzi turned simultaneously to see Juneau in full away team regalia. She stood at attention with a broad smile on her face.

The exec frowned. “Juneau, I thought you were still under sedation in Sickbay?”

Juneau shook her head as her smile grew even wider. “Not any longer, sir. The EMH discharged me an hour ago and confirmed my readiness to return to duty.”

Ramirez didn’t look completely convinced, but relented under the day’s onslaught of unusual circumstances. “Very well. It’s good to have you back, Olivia. You gave us quite the scare when your runabout disappeared.”

Her smile evaporated and Juneau took on a more subdued manner. “I’m glad to be back, Commander. I’m just sorry my first time in the center seat ended the way it did.”

Memories of the smoldering, listing bridge of the Phoenix flashed through her mind and Ramirez muttered, “I know the feeling.” She glanced at Plazzi. “Elisto, any objections to some more help?”

He scratched his beard idly and the science officer grinned. “None whatsoever. Let me get you set up here, Lieutenant…”

Ramirez headed out and left the lab as she made her way towards the surface to check in with Master Chief Tark on the ongoing forensic examination of the facility.

*****

The weapons were unfamiliar to him, but they possessed all the necessary accoutrements: handle, trigger, emitter port. Point-and-shoot.

Ahmet Kutav hefted the bulky rifle as he admired the weight of the thing. So many advanced personal weapons systems had become so light that, from a psychological standpoint, it felt like carrying a child’s toy into battle. These guns were solid, with a density that suggested pure carnage at the receiving end of the weapon’s ire.

Kutav looked to his surviving men. They, too, were in the process of arming themselves for the coming battle. He took some comfort in the fact that if he should die today, in the company of his men and in the execution of such a bold plan, it would be a far better death than being blasted out of existence by his own hand.

The ahmet still had no idea who they were working for, or what the man’s ultimate goals were. He had not even given them a name, only a title. He instructed that if addressed, they should call him Baron. From what little Kutav had seen of the man’s ship, it was unlike any craft he’d ever been aboard. The various rooms and corridors were laid out in an irrational fashion, and he had not seen one airlock, or a single pressure door. The vessel’s interior was decorated in a plethora of eclectic antiquities, many of which Kutav was unable to identify despite more than a passing knowledge with the various riches of past ages. It felt more like being inside of an ancient castle than a spacecraft, but the strangeness of his surroundings was not Kutav’s greatest concern at the moment.

Within minutes he and the sixteen other survivors from Sethret would board and seize a Federation starship. Kutav’s arguments that such a small party could not hope to capture such a well defended vessel had fallen on deaf ears. The Baron had merely stated that he would follow them aboard, and could effortlessly gain access to their internal defenses and operating systems. Kutav hoped the man’s words were more than idle boasting, for they would soon be put to the test.

*****