Geometries of Chance - ST: Gibraltar

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 13

Ok round about this chapter, my head started hurting. I mean it started HURTING! I was convinced I might be getting a handle on events when suddenly you throw a curve ball like Pava recognising the Baron!! (Reading's a more accurate description I guess, but don't get picky!)

It explains why the TI team are on the way though and I'm starting to see Ixis' point now.

Like Sandhurst, I'm really not sure how much of what the Baron has said is true but at least some of it seems that way, and I'm guessing it's the bad bits!

Nicely mind twisting now Sam.

 

[Gibraltar]

Well, I also read ahead up to the end of chapter 15 because your story is such a (virtual) page-turner.

Why, thank you.

But my feeling when I read chapter 12 was a bad one regarding Plazzi. Only a few weeks away from retirement? You're dead meat.

Only time will tell.

Loved the sequence with Kuvat and Parlan and the apt description of the Baron's ship's interior.

Kutav's used to being the one calling the shots, and his demotion to ill-informed flunky makes him... well... cranky. Glad you enjoyed that scene.

The resolution to Pava's story was great, too. He did chose a bad moment to develop a conscience, didn't he? But I'm glad he did.

Unfortunately, the things he's done will continue to haunt him until the present day.

Thanks for the terrific feedback!

 

[Gibraltar]

Chapter 13

Ok round about this chapter, my head started hurting. I mean it started HURTING! I was convinced I might be getting a handle on events when suddenly you throw a curve ball like Pava recognising the Baron!! (Reading's a more accurate description I guess, but don't get picky!)

Yes, the strangeness factor indeed continues as the mystery deepens.

It explains why the TI team are on the way though and I'm starting to see Ixis' point now.

There's no denying the crew is in over their heads. This is the kind of scenario that should be handled by a larger class of ship with a more seasoned staff... but Gibraltar drew the short straw this time (as they so frequently do).

Like Sandhurst, I'm really not sure how much of what the Baron has said is true but at least some of it seems that way, and I'm guessing it's the bad bits!

Nicely mind twisting now Sam.

Thanks! Please take 2 asprin and proceed to the next chapter.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

"Away team to Gibraltar - we have an emergency . . ."
Is that the standard hail from Gibraltar landing parties? If not, it should be.

Lots to like in these last two segments. The Orions get owned (that always makes me smile. ) and Pava takes a dream-trip down memory lane. The man has led an interesting life - lots of story fodder there (hint! hint!)

More trouble planet-side as Tralk and Juneau face off against bloody rain and more.

And, of course, the Baron. He's fascinating, much in the way a cobra fascinates - right before he strikes.

 

[Gibraltar]

"Away team to Gibraltar - we have an emergency . . ."
Is that the standard hail from Gibraltar landing parties? If not, it should be.

Actually, the typical Gibraltar away team hail is, "Help us! Oh my God, there's so much blood! Ensign Blain, don't let the creature beat you with your own limbs like that! Yeeeeeaaaaargh!"

Lots to like in these last two segments. The Orions get owned (that always makes me smile. ) and Pava takes a dream-trip down memory lane. The man has led an interesting life - lots of story fodder there (hint! hint!)

Oh, yes, a person can collect quite a few stories in 400+ years, especially if he's a ramblin' man.

More trouble planet-side as Tralk and Juneau face off against bloody rain and more.

There's enough trouble in this scenario to go around, everyone can be assured of their fair share!

And, of course, the Baron. He's fascinating, much in the way a cobra fascinates - right before he strikes.

He is that, let there be no doubt.

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Death was rather different than Saihra Dunleavy would have imagined. Never having held fast to any particular spirituality, she had really not given the idea of an afterlife much consideration. In her present circumstances, she supposed that might have been a mistake.

She was relatively sure that she had no eyes, and yet she was able to perceive her surroundings in all directions simultaneously. She had no mouth, no lungs, no larynx that she could detect, yet strangely she felt no compulsion to speak. All around her was a dimension of violent color and motion

From the chaotic palate something took shape. The object was either approaching or growing in size, but without any reference points Dunleavy had no source to judge perspective. It took a moment for her to identify the thing. A human embryo. The magnified life-state increased in size and complexity with great speed. She watched it develop, the maturation of months taking place in mere seconds. As the embryo became a baby and continued to grow into a small child, Saihra recognized it as herself.

And then, with increasing swiftness, she witnessed her full life cycle, followed by successive generations of what she assumed to be offspring. The images came with escalating speed, as if some unknown force was mapping the potential of human evolution, the various forms that earth’s distant descendants might assume. Spindly multi-armed humanoids flashed past, followed by cybernetic neo-hominids with their organs encased in decorative neutronium shells, then beings of pure energy… she witnessed it all in the blink of an eye that she no longer possessed.

A spark of hope flared in what would have otherwise been Dunleavy’s heart. Perhaps this was not death after all. She surmised that maybe, just maybe, she… and by extension the rest of humanity… were being studied.

*****

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

Sandhurst directed Lar’ragos carefully to a nearby chair, the captain’s expression tinged both with concern and curiosity. He looked to his friend with a wry smile and Sandhurst said softly, “I think that’s a statement that bears elaboration.”

Lar’ragos sank gratefully into the chair. His hands trembled so much with the effort of moving that he had to clasp them tightly together to make them stop. “It’s… nothing specific, I’m afraid. I monitored your conversation with the Baron. When he speaks, there’s a sense of…” Lar’ragos groped for the right words, “…he’s on the cusp of achieving something very important to him.”

The exec cleared her throat. “You said he’s a time traveler?”

Lar’ragos sighed. “Yes. He’s old. Older than me.” He raised his eyes to meet Ramirez’s. “Many names, many faces, but his experiences are out of order. I see him in places and times that he couldn’t possibly occupy, unless he possessed the ability to move beyond normal space/time constraints.” Lar’ragos turned his gaze on Sandhurst. “He’s no agent come to save us. Whatever his role in all this, it’s for purely selfish ends.”

Ramirez knew from experience how prescient Lar’ragos’ intuition could be, but Taiee appeared skeptical. The CMO gave the El Aurian a dubious look and gently urged, “Lieutenant, you’ve just recovered from a serious neural fugue, one that I’m still unable to explain. Your senses, however they work, may not be firing on all thrusters at the moment.”

Lar’ragos, however, appeared not to hear her. Instead, he was focused like a laser on the captain. ”You know more about parallel realities than you let on.”

Sandhurst frowned. “How so?”

“Pell,” Lar’ragos replied, looking tired. “Tell them about Pell.”

The color drained from Sandhurst’s face. “Ojana? What about her?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Donald!” Lar’ragos snapped irritably. “I’m too damn exhausted for games.”

Sandhurst looked away uncertainly, then his shoulders set and his resolve firmed. He turned to the others and said, “Eight years ago, while serving aboard the Cuffe under Captain Diaz, we encountered a dimensional rift in the Tong Beak Nebula.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he often did when under stress. “We discovered a Bajoran national from an alternate reality, one who mirrored a Starfleet officer I’d known.” The captain sat heavily on a chair. “The entire mess was classified by Command.”

Ramirez watched Sandhurst with a guarded expression. “So, are we talking about another intrusion from the same dimension?”

“No.” Sandhurst stood. “I compared the quantum resonances of both incidents, they don’t match.” He looked to Taiee. “Doc, I need to speak with the commander and Lar’ragos in private.”

Taiee nodded obediently and left. Sandhurst toggled the door closed behind her. As soon as the portal was shut he rounded on Lar’ragos and seethed, “You don’t get to pull your parlor tricks on me, goddamn it, Pava!” Sandhurst clenched his fists, clearly holding himself in check, but just barely. “I’m the captain. There are going to be things only I know about, and I won’t have you playing twenty questions to fish for classified information, regardless of what it is you think you know.”

Lar’ragos’ face sagged and he looked genuinely repentant. “I’m sorry, Captain.” He swayed in his chair, then grabbed onto a nearby table to steady himself. “As the doc said, I’m not exactly at my best right now.”

Sandhurst turned to Ramirez. “I wasn’t holding anything back, Commander. I promise.” He worried about having alienated his first officer even more through perceived omissions of vital information, compounding his earlier sin of having shanghaied her into this post in the first place. “If there had been some correlation between the two dimensional ruptures, I’d have mentioned the Cuffe incident.”

She smiled wistfully and said, “No explanation necessary, Captain. It’s not your judgment I’m questioning.” She shot a sour look at the lieutenant to underscore her point.

“Bridge to Captain Sandhurst.”

As he still struggled to reign in his emotions, Sandhurst paused a beat to leach the tension from his voice before replying. “Go.”

“Sir, we’re getting multiple distress calls from the surface. The away team is reporting some kind of creature is attempting to gain access to the facility at the main entrance, and Lieutenant Juneau says that one crew member has either been killed or abducted by a probe sent through the portal.”

“Acknowledged.” Sandhurst tapped his compin to open a channel to the transporter room. “Can we beam the away team back?” he inquired, dreading what would almost certainly be the response.

“No sir,” the transporter chief said regretfully. “Some kind of energy field is masking the away team’s signatures. I can pinpoint their locations, but I’m unable to get a solid lock.”

“Would pattern enhancers help?” Sandhurst offered.

“They might, sir.”

“Commander, take a rescue team down by shuttle, and bring the transport pattern enhancers with you.”

Ramirez nodded curtly and activated the door as she tapped her own compin. “Ramirez to Commander Plazzi and Ensign Diamato, report to the shuttle bay for a surface mission immediately.” She isolated Diamato’s compin and added, “Ensign, I know you guys have taken a beating, but I want you to assemble whatever security team we can manage.”

As the exec stepped out into the main ward of Sickbay, she pointed to Lightner who was sitting idly atop one of the many biobeds as he awaited his discharge. “Quit lollygagging, mister. Rumor has it this planet has some of the worst weather ever recorded on a Class-M planet. And that means I need our best pilot.” She spared him a quick smile as she headed out the main doors leading to the corridor. “Move with purpose, Ensign.”

*****

Sandhurst directed Lar’ragos to replicate a uniform and make himself presentable. His anger at Pava’s impertinence had subsided, and the captain decided he’d still rather have Lar’ragos’ abilities working for him in the coming encounter.

As the two men entered the secured ward, the Baron remained restrained to the biobed. He looked at the Starfleet officers questioningly. “Back so soon, Captain?”

“The creature you spoke of… the ‘dragon’ as you call it. It’s attacking my people on the surface.” Sandhurst moved closer to the bed to project as much severity as he could manage.

“Then I pity your people, Captain.” The Baron appeared passably sincere.

Lar’ragos was still shaky but determined to help. He stood by and observed as he drank in every word, expression, and nuance of their prisoner.

“How do I stop it?”

The Baron looked troubled. “You can’t. Not without my help.”

“I don’t trust you.” Sandhurst had no time for niceties.

The Baron smiled, and despite his being arrested, contained, and confined, Sandhurst felt a nagging chill at the mysterious man’s expression. “Trust isn’t the issue. Necessity is.” He craned his neck to inspect Lar’ragos curiously. “Your people don’t have much time. The creature could consume them, that installation, and this ship in an instant if it chose. Fortunately, it was designed as a terror weapon. It will assault those men and women with horrors beyond their darkest imaginings, savoring every moment of their fear and agony.”

Sandhurst scowled. “It feeds on fear?”

The Baron chuckled. “It doesn’t feed on anything. It requires no nourishment, no rest, nothing aside from entertaining itself by torturing and killing every living sentient creature it can find.”

Lar’ragos’ eyes widened, and what little color he retained seemed to drain from him. He stepped forward and placed his hand against Sandhurst’s back to steady himself as he whispered in the captain’s ear. “It’s his, Donald.”

Sandhurst turned, clearly perplexed.

The El Aurian raised his voice. “He created the damn thing. It’s the way he talks about it, like some kind of twisted parental pride.”

The Baron’s face became a mask of deadly earnest, his voice heavy with menace. “This charade has gone on long enough. It is time for you to decide, Captain. Help me capture this creature of your own volition, or I’ll take your ship from you and cast you and your crew aside like so much refuse.”

He shook his head at the Baron’s audacity, and Sandhurst replied, “And how do you expect to do that?”

“You see, dear Captain, during our assault on your ship, I had one of my operatives sneak into your computer core and corrupt your protected backup files.” The Baron’s tone conveyed an assurance that froze Sandhurst’s marrow. “Bit of an insurance policy, you see. When my attack failed, and you uploaded the backups to repair the damage my computer virus had wrought on your systems, you inadvertently gave me complete control of the Gibraltar.”

Sandhurst slapped his compin so fiercely he nearly tore it from his uniform. “Sandhurst to bridge, shut down the prim—“

The Baron roared over him, “Computer, release the restraining field on my bed!”

It took both men, charged as they were, a moment to comprehend the computer’s response. “Unable to comply due to insufficient authorization.”

The Baron became apoplectic, screaming and thrashing against the restraining field. “Computer, release me this instant! Acknowledge my order!”

“Bridge to Captain Sandhurst, please repeat your message. You were cut off.”

Sandhurst appeared confused. “Bridge, this is the captain. Standby to initiate a complete shutdown of the main computer and all ancillary functions on my order.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “And get me a security team down here.”

“Aye, sir.”

Lar’ragos moved to the opposite side of the bed, prepared to help restrain the Baron should he suddenly break free. The adrenaline coursing through his veins helped to offset some of his fatigue and disorientation.

“Sandhurst to Lieutenant Ashok.”

“Ashok here, sir.”

Sandhurst briefly outlined the Baron’s threats for the chief engineer, followed by a question. “Lieutenant, did you restore the computer as I’d ordered?”

There was a pregnant pause. “Not entirely, sir.”

His jaw clenched as he idly watched the Baron’s antics, and Sandhurst replied icily, “How so, Mister Ashok?”

The Baron raged, “Parlan, you are needed!”

“Owing to the nature of the computer attack on the ship, I had reservations about rebooting our systems from the protected archives, Captain. Instead, I requested an upload of those files via compressed subspace transmission from DS9.” Ashok’s voice seemed brittle, as if he half-expected to be relieved of his post at this revelation. “It took a bit longer for full systems restoration, but I thought it would be safer.”

Sandhurst was stunned. He murmured absently, “You saved the ship.”

“I’m sorry, sir? I didn’t copy your last.”

Both Sandhurst and Lar’ragos slowly became aware of a new sound, something discernable over the Baron’s outburst and the captain’s conversation. A grinding, screeching, thumping sound emanated from the main Sickbay ward. Sandhurst stepped to the door and opened it to find a black cylinder approximately three meters tall and meter and a half in diameter materializing in the middle of Sickbay.

The security officer posted to the Baron’s door drew his sidearm and called out an intruder alert that set off a ship-wide red alert klaxon.

Sandhurst moved quickly to the Sickbay arms locker, a box protruding innocently from one wall amidst a host of medical displays. He took a phaser pistol for himself, and then moved to the doorway to the secure ward, throwing the other phaser to Lar’ragos. “Pava, we’ve got company. I’m locking you in!”

He located Taiee amid the busy crowd and ordered, “Doc, get everyone out of here!” Medical staff scrambled to evacuate patients into the corridor, which inadvertently clogged the ship’s arterials and delayed the arrival of the ship’s responding security staff.

A portal, even blacker than the outside of the pillar, appeared in the side of the structure. Out stepped a gargantuan humanoid, a hairless male clad in a tan, form-fitting jumpsuit that seemed designed to broadcast his inhumanly developed musculature. As he brought his phaser up, Sandhurst found himself musing that this individual made Ashok look small.

“Stop right where you are!” Sandhurst ordered, in what he hoped was a sufficiently authoritative voice. To his surprise, the mammoth actually stopped in his tracks and turned to face him. This prompted the captain to add, “Identify yourself and your intent.”

An incongruously unremarkable voice emerged from the giant’s mouth. “I am Parlan. I am here for the Baron. Assist me, and you will live. Interfere, and I will kill you.”

*****

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Out of his peripheral vision, Sandhurst saw someone else rushing to the arms locker. A moment later, he perceived Ensign Kuenre Shanthi of the late USS Brahmaputra with phaser in hand as he took up position beside him. Now three armed men stood opposed to the Baron’s would-be rescuer, with Lar’ragos locked inside the secured ward with the prisoner.

“Mr. Parlan, we have you at a disadvantage. I don’t want to see you or anyone else get hurt here; enough people have died already.” Sandhurst fought the urge to ramp the phaser’s power setting beyond heavy stun. “Stand down, and we can work to sort out this whole tangled mess.”

Parlan appeared unmoved by the captain’s words. He began walking towards the door to the secured ward. “You have been warned.”

The captain, Shanthi, and the security man opened fire simultaneously. Their beams, however, terminated at the threshold of Parlan’s defensive forcefield. The behemoth plowed on and reached out a hand to swat the security specialist across the ward, where he slammed into a computer workstation with a meaty thud. Sandhurst witnessed this, and had the presence of mind to duck as Parlan swung on him. The man’s massive hand carved through the air centimeters above the captain’s head as Sandhurst rolled beneath the nearest biobed.

Shanthi increased his phaser setting to maximum and fired again. The scream of his phaser competed with the shriek of rending metal as Parlan peeled the door to the secured ward apart as if it had been made of paper. From the other side, Lar’ragos added his beam to the maelstrom of energy that now surrounded the enormous man.

Parlan strode unhurriedly into the ward and casually slapped the phaser from Lar’ragos’ grip, breaking the El Aurian’s hand in the process. He then pushed Lar’ragos against the far wall where the lieutenant bounced off the bulkhead and slid to the floor unconscious. Using only the bladed edge of his hand, Parlan scythed through the base of the biobed and severed the EPS leads powering the restraining field. As the bed toppled over and the field collapsed, the giant scooped the Baron up in his arms and cradled him protectively

After he regained his feet, Sandhurst joined the fight and added his phaser’s maximum power discharge to the effort. The forcefield bubble around Parlan and the Baron started to shimmer and oscillate as it began to show the strain of dissipating such concentrated destructive energy.

In response, Parlan aimed a single hand palm-out towards his attackers. A purplish bolt of energy lashed out from that hand to strike the deck between Sandhurst and Shanthi. The resulting explosion threw both men off their feet and peppered them with searing metallic shrapnel from the savaged floor plating.

Parlan moved with greater alacrity now and made for the pillar. The Baron growled, “Put me down. I will walk out of captivity on my own two feet.” The enormous man complied instantly as his pale blue eyes darted in search of additional threats. As they passed the writhing, semi-conscious form of Sandhurst, the Baron smiled. “Bring him along, I simply must return the favor of my incarceration.”

The colossus knelt to gather up the broken form of the captain and followed the Baron through the dark membrane and into his mysterious craft. The portal closed soundlessly behind them.

In the wake of the division’s recent losses, a security non-com now led a makeshift response team cobbled together from various crew with prior combat experience. They had waded through the crowd of medical personnel and patients choking the corridor outside to finally execute a hurried tactical entry into the Sickbay. They rushed into the compartment just as the black pillar vanished, once again accompanied by its eerie pulsing screech.

*****

Shuttlecraft Kon-Tiki
En-route to Meteorological Research Station Aristotle from USS Gibraltar

Even with the shuttle’s inertial dampeners set to maximum, it was proving to be a rough ride down to the surface of Pierosh II. A storm front had inexplicably materialized over the plateau on which the survey station was located. Anomalous storm activity was nothing unusual on this planet, however, and Lightner had adjusted his course to try to minimize the amount of wind shear and turbulence the shuttle would encounter.

Despite Lightner’s efforts, the size of the storm had swelled, and it proved necessary to fly through it in order to reach their destination. The Kon-Tiki shuddered violently as the craft punched through a compact cloud formation and threw Ramirez against the restraint straps keeping her in the co-pilot’s seat. Her stomach was doing its level best to crawl up inside her esophagus, and by way of distraction she glanced over at the youthful pilot. The injuries Lightner had suffered at the hands of the Orions were fading, and only some light bruising around his right eye attested to his presence in the pitched battle for the bridge.

She mused that the ensign wasn’t a bad looking kid, and he had certainly handled himself well since his posting to Gibraltar. He still possessed that endearing fresh-from-the-Academy earnestness that all newly minted ensigns seemed to exude for their first year of service or so. Often they were simply thrilled just to be aboard a starship, no matter how routine or unimportant the tasks they were assigned to perform. Ramirez had noticed that it was only when he was piloting in stressful circumstances that the ‘real’ Brett Lightner appeared. The hesitation and uncertainty of a first-tour junior officer vanished, and in their place were the focus and composure of a superior pilot.

At twenty-one, he was a graduate of the academy’s accelerated wartime curricula with only three years of academics under his belt instead of four. Ramirez felt the young man had been cheated out of much more than just a year’s education. During the war, courses such as history, philosophy, and ethics had been discarded in exchange for those skill sets more apt to help a person survive in a combat environment.

In her opinion it was exactly those courses that differentiated a Starfleet officer from a Klingon warrior or a Romulan centurion. Any thug could hold and fire a weapon. Starfleet taught their people how to think, how to analyze a situation from multiple angles, and gave them the empathy to view a scenario from someone’s perspective other than their own. Most importantly, the academy taught its graduates the moral context within which they were allowed to operate.

As the executive officer, Ramirez was responsible for the continued training and education of the ship’s compliment of junior officers. She would help guide and groom them for greater responsibility as she gave them the tools they needed for eventual promotion. She had already lost two of them, Browder and Qawasimi, both promising young men who hadn’t lived to see even a tenth of the wonders she had witnessed in her career. Ramirez vowed that she would strive to do better by the others, Lightner included.

Another jolt washed away Ramirez’s reverie as the shuttle lurched through an air pocket. She craned her head around to glance back into the passenger compartment. Ramirez smirked at the sight of Plazzi’s death grip on the armrests of his chair. Ensign Diamato, the sole surviving commissioned officer from Gibraltar’s security division aside from Lar’ragos, appeared immune to their bumpy ride. Diamato studied a padd containing schematics of the surface installation. Two enlisted security personnel sat facing one-another against either wall, seated on the bulkhead mounted benches in the cargo area.

Ramirez called out to Plazzi, “Everything okay back there, Elisto?”

Plazzi gave her a forced smile and a half-hearted thumbs up that made her laugh despite her airsickness.

She turned back to address Lightner, “Please tell me this little ship is up to the task, Ensign.”

Lightner grinned, his concentration consumed with navigating the treacherous storm cell. “Oh yeah, Commander. No worries. These Type-8’s can take a pounding.”

I certainly hope so, she thought grimly, who knows what the Baron’s ‘dragon’ is capable of inflicting on us?

Something loomed suddenly in the cockpit windscreen, a dark, massive shape abruptly visible through the surrounding miasma. Ramirez and Lightner both caught the briefest glimpse of something with an enormous wingspan, and of vicious talons that raked across the shuttle’s forward shields.

To his credit, the ensign maintained their angle of descent. His face betrayed confusion, but his hands were steady on the controls. “I… was that… that couldn’t be…”

Ramirez reached out to the console at her station and charged the shuttle’s phasers. “I’m not sure what that was, Mister Lightner.” She suppressed the shiver that sought to arc down her spine and replied coolly, “Just keep flying, Ensign. I’ll worry about our hyper-thyroidal avian friend out there.” And then it hit her. She had been thinking about dragons. Oh, goody, she mused, perhaps it reads thoughts, too.

As she turned back to see Plazzi’s wide-eyed, ashen face, the first officer raised her hand sheepishly. “Sorry, my fault. That was me.”

*****

Pierosh II
Meteorological Research Station Aristotle

Juneau and her team scrambled to seal the doors leading to the secret laboratory. The entire Starfleet contingent had retreated to the reinforced lab to escape whatever nightmarish thing had breached the building’s defenses.

Tricorders had proved to be of only questionable use. The creature alternately registered on scans as being a field of energy, or a swarm of giant Plavian arachnids, or any number of equally unpleasant alternatives. Thus far, however, the attacks had amounted to mere harassment. For the time being, the thing seemed content to frighten them and drive them farther underground. Juneau had no intention of allowing it to take more lethal actions against them.

The lieutenant had moved to a secluded corner of the lab as crew busied themselves welding additional barriers in front of the doorway and setting up a secure perimeter. She opened her tricorder and tried again to make some sense of the jumbled readings their attacker was giving off. Juneau observed Tark walk up, padd in hand. As he stepped beside her, she felt a pressure in her side that she knew instantly to be a phaser. Tark whispered, “Now that you’ve led us down here to a dead end, I’m very interested to know just who you really are.”

As she lowered her tricorder, Juneau weighed her options. She could try to disarm him, but that would likely result in her being stunned or killed. Last time she had overwhelmed the master chief, she’d had the advantage of surprise. Now Tark had the upper hand. She decided that the circumstances warranted a novel approach, the truth.

Juneau kept her voice low as she replied, “I won’t insult your intelligence by trying to convince you what you’ve seen and heard isn’t true, Master Chief. There is, in fact, more than one person in here.” She touched a finger to her temple. “But I assure you, I’m no shape-shifter or enemy agent. I’m Starfleet too, and I’m far more qualified to help you here than Olivia would be.”

Tark still looked grimly skeptical. “How are you tied up in all this?”

“I wasn’t. Let’s just say that ninety-nine percent of the time I’m simply an observer in Olivia’s head. Only when I come across something which could be considered a serious threat to Federation security or our national interests do I take the reigns.” She gave Tark a hard look. “And our present circumstances definitely amount to a dire threat, wouldn’t you say?”

“And the lieutenant? Where is she right now?”

Juneau watched as the crew welded a metal table to the growing pile of debris in front of the pressure door; embers of molten metal rained down onto the floor. “Asleep, actually. When I take over, she goes into a kind of mental hibernation.”

Tark muttered, “I don’t understand. Why would Starfleet do such a thing?”

Juneau shook her head. “The Obsidian Order, the Tal Shiar, the Klingon So’Taj… you don’t think we have our own version of a ‘dirty tricks’ branch, too? You’re not so naive as to believe that we allow all those other powers to play by their own rules while we adhere to the strict letter of the law?”

The master chief sighed, “I suppose not.”

“I’m the dark underside of the Federation’s moral high road.” She smiled harshly. “So, what’s it to be? Do you want my help here, or shall I bring Olivia back? I’m sure she’d be a terrific asset to you. You could use her for cover when that thing starts beating down the door and she curls into the fetal position.”

As he lowered the phaser, Tark hissed, “Fine, for now. This isn’t over, though.”

Just then an unearthly yowl issued from behind the pressure door, accompanied by the sounds of manic scratching on metal. Juneau stepped out and prepared to take command of the situation. She glanced at Tark as she replied, “Not by a long shot, Master Chief.”

*****

<cont'd>

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 15

Chapter 15 <cont'd>

Donald Sandhurst floated in agony, suspended in a shaft of white light. His legs were badly mangled, and his wounds had received little in the way of treatment from his captors. He groggily recalled a small human man using a device to staunch the bleeding, but the wounds remained open to fester and he had been given nothing to dull the blazing pain.

He passed in and out of consciousness for a period, but he couldn’t say how long as he’d lost the ability to judge the passage of time.

The Baron’s face swam into focus, accompanied by a wave of misery as the older man gripped Sandhurst’s torn thigh tightly with one hand to bring him around. The captain coughed, sputtered, and finally rasped, “I’d like to lodge a complaint with the concierge.”

As he smiled wolfishly the Baron purred, “I’m sure.” He took a moment to appraise Sandhurst. “You’ve certainly looked better, Captain. I’d very much like to offer more medical treatment, but that will be dependant upon your level of cooperation.”

Sandhurst coughed again. “My command codes won’t do you any good. The moment I was abducted the crew would have locked those codes out of the system.”

“No, no, I’m done mucking about with your damned computers.” He crossed his arms impatiently. “I need your ship, Captain.”

“Wh—“ Sandhurst winced and drew in a sharp breath. “Why? You have this vessel, and we suspect the ability to travel through time and space. I can’t imagine what you’d need a mere starship for.”

The Baron glowered. “All my ship’s power is being utilized to keep the portal on the surface open. My reserves are dwindling, especially after expending additional resources to rescue myself from your captivity.”

“Why are you keeping it-- “ Sandhurst groaned suddenly and writhed in the clutches of the suspensor field. He took a steadying breath and continued. “Why hold it open?”

“Closing the wormhole will severe the creature’s connection to the prison dimension. Once free, the difficulty in capturing it increases exponentially.”

He fought off another wave of pain and Sandhurst asked, “You created it?”

“In a manner of speaking.” The Baron took the captain’s silence as a request for elaboration, and he began walking a slow circuit around Sandhurst. “There are beings in the multiverse that move about the cosmos as gods. I have had chance to encounter them on occasion, but I’ve found them to be selfish, arrogant, and capricious entities. They flit about, meddling in the affairs of lesser species for their own amusement, wielding their awesome powers like fickle children.”

Sandhurst cried out, then bit down on his lower lip until the wave of suffering passed. Something that felt broken shifted in his chest and burned like a hot knife twisting. “Yes, we have them here, too. We call them Q.”

The Baron continued without acknowledging Sandhurst’s statement, clearly indifferent to the man’s agony. “Centuries ago, while traveling the periphery of the Keng-Ceri Cloud, I discovered the remains of one of these beings, cocooned within a protostar. It must have been injured in some great cataclysm, though I shudder to think of what weapon or event could fell a god. Its energy matrix was intact, but its intellect had been rent asunder. It was essentially an animated corpse, a hollow shell of its former glory.”

Sandhurst struggled to remain conscious as he fought to grasp and retain everything the Baron was revealing to him. There was no telling what would be of use to him later.

“So I painstakingly rebuilt its neural state, giving it the semblance of consciousness, but leaving it very amenable to direction. My direction.”

As he strained to get his head around what he was hearing, Sandhurst asked, “That thing out there… it’s a Q?”

“It used to be a Q, as you call it,” the Baron corrected. “Now it’s the perfect weapon of terror.” He had now circumnavigated the suspensor field, and the Baron found himself facing Sandhurst again. His features beamed with haughty pride. “I used it to cut a swath of destruction across my dimension the likes of which had never been seen. Seventeen populated star systems obliterated.” His eyes took on a far-away cast. “Entire civilizations lay prostrate before me, and for a time, I commanded an empire of untold billions.”

“And then?” Sandhurst croaked.

“Then a supposedly ‘enlightened’ coalition of species conspired to overthrow me,” the Baron spat bitterly. “It was a horrific war, countless millions slaughtered in order to end my benevolent rule. The creature was captured, but even the combined intellects of these races could not design a method capable of destroying it.” The Baron paused to pull a crystal from the folds of his cloak. He touched its facets and beckoned a small pedestal to rise from an opening in the floor. Upon the pedestal were arrayed a gleaming assortment of metallic devices, blades, spikes, flails, and other accoutrements of torture. “The creature was locked away in a dimensional schism that I could not access from my quantum reality.”

“Ah,” remarked Sandhurst, his eyes glued to the instruments of pain. “That’s why you created Benghazi.”

The Baron nodded as he picked up a wicked looking scalpel-like implement and held it up to the light to admire its fine edge. “Yes, Benghazi, and a host of others. I littered them throughout several dimensions with a similar quantum variance to yours. Dozens of men, all in my image, all programmed to be obsessed with the idea of breaching the dimensional boundaries between universes along a very specific seam.”

“And our Dr. Benghazi was the first one to successfully tunnel into your creature’s prison.” Sandhurst coughed wetly and blood flecked his lips from a lung punctured by a fractured rib. “Lucky us.”

“Just so.” The Baron grinned cruelly. “Tell me, Captain, you’re not a hemophiliac by any chance?”

“And if I say yes?”

“Then I’ll administer a clotting agent prior to our conversation, Donald.” The Baron stepped closer and used the scalpel blade to slice away the captain’s uniform top. “Can I call you Donald?”

“Sure,” Sandhurst stammered as he tried desperately to think of something to dissuade his captor from what was to come. “I’d remind you that you were not mistreated as my prisoner, Baron. You were given medical aid, food… you were merely restrained.” A few precise cuts of the blade and Sandhurst’s remaining clothing fell away.

The suspensor field lowered Sandhurst to where his feet almost touched the floor. The Baron rose from the ground on similar energies and leaned in to whisper intimately to his victim as he made the first of many incisions. “Consider this payment with interest.”

*****

 

[Galen4]

I'm up to chapter 5 on this...subspace weapons, a strange entity, a mysterious figure, and a forbidden science experiment thrown in for good measure! Yow! Talk about layers of intrigue and mounting danger!

I'm also enjoying these early days of Sandhurst cutting his teeth. He continues to be one of the more three-dimensional captains I've ever seen.

Can't wait to dive into the rest! Great stuff as always
.

 

[Gibraltar]

I'm up to chapter 5 on this...subspace weapons, a strange entity, a mysterious figure, and a forbidden science experiment thrown in for good measure! Yow! Talk about layers of intrigue and mounting danger!

I'm also enjoying these early days of Sandhurst cutting his teeth. He continues to be one of the more three-dimensional captains I've ever seen.

Can't wait to dive into the rest! Great stuff as always
.

Much obliged for the kind words, Galen4. Glad you're enjoying it.

 

[Count Zero]

That's a very chilling end to a chapter. Poor Sandhurst.

I loved how the Baron's original plan was foiled. I wonder what Parlan is. And thanks for not killing Dunleavy (yet).

 

[Gibraltar]

That's a very chilling end to a chapter. Poor Sandhurst.

Yeah, Donald's in a bad spot.

I loved how the Baron's original plan was foiled. I wonder what Parlan is. And thanks for not killing Dunleavy (yet).

No plan ever survives contact with the enemy... I guess that applies to the bad guy's plans, too. Parlan's origins will be revealed as the story continues.

As for Dunleavy... her fate is yet to be determined.

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The colorful maelstrom surrounding her coalesced into a single shape that left her now in the midst of a black void. Saihra Dunleavy clung to the hope that this was some kind of psychotropic First Contact experience, and her emotions were buoyed by the aura of munificence being projected by the creature taking form before her

It appeared crystalline in nature, an amorphous construct that seemed all angles and hard edges, which expanded and contracted continuously as its shape changed. The spectrum of colors that had once enclosed her now washed across the facets of the entity.

"We are Sentinel." She heard the words in her head, or she would have, had she still possessed one. "We apologize for the necessity of your being detained, but it was imperative for us to determine your biology, your nature, and your intent. From your thoughts and memories we have concluded that you were not complicit in our prisoner's escape. Your people demonstrate a high-level codified ethical structure, and it has been decided that we may enlist your cooperation in returning our charge to its place of confinement."

{* I… um… thank you.*} Wonderful, she thought dourly, I'm sure my first words to these beings will be immortalized by the Federation Diplomatic Corps.

"One of our number will accompany you back through the conduit and will coordinate the efforts necessary to drive the creature back into captivity."

{* I'm being returned?*} She asked hopefully.

"Yes, both to your body as well as your native realm. We have also discerned that your people have made contact with the Betrayer. He is as intelligent as he is dangerous, and it is vitally important that we not allow him to escape captivity aboard your vessel. With permission, we will take custody of the Betrayer for the safety of all, as the danger he poses to your dimension is considerable."

{* I'm sure we can work something out. I can't speak directly for my people, though. Your representative will have to speak with my captain.*}

"We acknowledge and will abide by your hierarchical command structure."

Dunleavy felt herself being drawn backwards as her unique multi-perspective vision began to wane…

*****

Ensign Lightner's touchdown on the meteorological station's landing platform was not the most graceful of his career, but it got the job done. Both the buffeting winds as well as the monsters that had begun slashing at the craft from the veil of clouds had conspired to make the last few kilometers to the landing site especially harrowing.

Ramirez pulled off her arm sling and winced as she hefted her phaser rifle and moved to the rear exit ramp of the shuttle. "Okay, people, we're going to stay close together and provide mutual cover from whatever's out there."

She, Ensign Diamato, and the two security personnel were armed with rifles, while Plazzi was equipped with a hand phaser and science kit. Lightner would bring up the rear and haul along the transport pattern enhancers.

As Ramirez conferred with the security team, Plazzi moved into the cockpit. He took a moment to access sensor readings at the now abandoned pilot's console. After a moment he poked his head back into the main cabin as he called out to the XO, "Commander, might I have a moment?"

She was clearly perturbed at being distracted so near to their mission getting underway, but Ramirez spared the science officer a brief audience. "What is it, Elisto?"

Plazzi jerked a thumb towards the cockpit. "Sensors are going crazy with the activity outside, sir. I strongly suggest we use the shuttle's emergency transporter to put us inside the facility, deep as it can get us."

She frowned reflexively. "I thought the transporters were unable to get a positive beam-in lock due to the interference."

"Yes, sir. That was from orbit. Now that we're dirt-side, the shuttle's transporter sensors should have enough power to punch through this soup and put us at least a couple levels down into the structure."

Ramirez was skeptical. "They should or they do, Mister Plazzi?"

He smiled. "I'm about a month away from a well deserved second retirement, Commander. Rest assured I'm not going to start gambling with my life now."

She considered it for a moment and finally acceded. "Alright, let's do it." She cast a glance back at the rear hatch and confided, "I really wasn't all that anxious to go running out there anyway."

Ramirez's compin chirped, and she tapped it as Plazzi took a seat at the pilot's station to begin setting up the site-to-site transport. "Ramirez here, go ahead."

"Commander, this is Lieutenant Taiee. I'm afraid I have to report that the Baron has escaped from Sickbay an—"

"What?" Ramirez cut her off as her face colored with frustration. "How did that happen?"

"It gets worse, sir. They've taken the captain."

*****

Explosions sent concussive waves of force tearing through the lab that rained debris down upon Juneau and her team. Bursts of phaser fire, both in beam and pulse form scoured the area around the entrance to the lab to burn, blast, and vaporize the ravening beasts that fought and clawed their way atop one another to push through the doorway.

Juneau moved at a crouch to Tark's firing position behind a burned out computer workstation. She paused to squeeze a burst of phaser pulses into a particularly vicious looking Klingon jackal mastiff that had managed to force its way over the pile of smoldering animal corpses choking the doorway. "Master Chief," she yelled above the din of combat, "we're going to need to fall back!"

Tark swept the doorway with his phaser set on a high wide-beam setting that incinerated the bodies of the various nightmarish creatures and creating a cloud of putrid but concealing smoke. "Fall back? To where?"

She looked over her shoulder at the viewing gallery behind them.

"Oh, no. Hell no!" Tark's pugnacious face took on a savage mien. "You've seen the radiation readings from in there. There's no way we could survive down there for more than a few minutes."

Juneau shook her head. "We'd only be in there for a moment."

Tark's eyes widened. "You're crazy! You are trying to get us killed!"

"I'd rather take my chances with that wormhole than remain here and get torn apart."

One of the science technicians broke formation to retrieve a new power cell for his phaser, only to have an enormous Seltan carnosaur rush from out of the pall of smoke and pounce on him. The reptile's wicked teeth ended the man's cries quickly, and as it raised its head to swallow a mouthful of his flesh it was cut down by a fusillade of phaser energy.

Tark studied the man's twitching form for a brief moment before he turned back to Juneau. "Point taken, Lieutenant."

"Good. I think that we should…" A peculiar brightness from behind them caught her attention. She turned to see five orange orbs, each identical to the one that had vaporized Dunleavy, hovering just outside the viewing partition. Juneau nudged Tark with her elbow. "Chief, the neighbors are back."

He swore colorfully in Tellarite. "Now we're trapped in a vise."

All five orbs passed through the transparent aluminum. Before Tark could bring his phaser around, they began to lash out at the predatory animals fighting to get at the Starfleet contingent. They blasted their way through the hellish chokepoint of the doorway and into the corridor beyond as swaths of golden light vaporized everything in their path.

Tark looked on, clearly amazed. "That was—"

"Enormously helpful," Juneau finished for him.

They rushed forward to catch a glimpse of the orbs as they ascended the stairway, the death screams of sundry creatures heralding their passing. "They're clearing a way to the surface, people, let's move!" Juneau shouted to the assembled crew. People began rushing for the surface, but Juneau remained behind. Tark turned to see her drop to the floor and maneuver the dead science technician into a fireman's carry. She struggled to her feet, shifted her burden, and began plodding towards the door. "Quit gawking and move, Master Chief. That's an order."

From behind them a voice asked, "That include me, too, Lieutenant?"

Saihra Dunleavy smiled at them self-consciously, one hand held high. "Everyone here who's made a First Contact, raise your hand."

*****

They clambered up the stairwell until they finally reached the main level. The other personnel had fanned out to form a perimeter, but there was no longer any sign of the orbs. As Tark stepped into the room, he was surprised to see Lt. Commander Ramirez and her rescue team talking animatedly with the others. Lightner and the team's security personnel were setting up the pattern enhancers in a triangular formation.

Ramirez turned to see Tark, her relief tinged with a concern that the Tellarite couldn't place. "Good to see you, Master Chief. We thought you were in trouble."

"We were, sir." Tark assisted Juneau in lowering their fallen comrade to the floor. "According to Dunleavy here, we appear to have some new friends on the other side of the rift."

"Good, she can tell us all about it when we get topside." Ramirez raised her voice to get the attention of the others as she announced, "Get assembled for beam-out."

Tark glanced at Dunleavy. "Didn't you say one of those spheres would be coming aboard as a liaison?"

Dunleavy smiled wistfully. "Don't worry, Master Chief. When they're ready, they'll find us."

As Ramirez finalized transport protocol with the ship, Tark looked around the room and then sniffed loudly through his porcine nose. "Now I remember that smell. It's been awhile."

Juneau observed him curiously. "What smell is that, Master Chief?"

"Victory."

*****

He awoke shortly before their next scheduled session. Sandhurst couldn't say how he knew it, but he did nonetheless. Despite the grievous damage his body had suffered at the hands of the Baron, he was occasionally able to sleep from sheer exhaustion, regardless of how much pain he was in.

Sandhurst was given regular medical attention, though just enough to keep him from slipping into unconsciousness too quickly during their time together. He surmised that the Baron must have done this frequently to have become so talented a sadist. Torture as art, he mused darkly.

How long had he hung here, bloodied, battered, and caked in his own filth? Days certainly, perhaps weeks. Sandhurst couldn't tell. When the seconds between punches or cuts or the closing of an electrical circuit seemed to last an eternity, estimating the passage of time became impossible.

A full two weeks of his rigorous nine-month stint at the Starfleet's Command Officer's Training course had been dedicated to capture and interrogation by hostile forces. Fearsome questioning sessions at the hands of skilled instructors had given the students a taste of what the real thing might be like. For his graduation exercise from that class, Sandhurst had been pummeled ruthlessly by an enormous holographic Tzenkethi who demanded to know the Federation's defense plans for the region along their mutual border. Sandhurst had resisted admirably, and had congratulated himself afterwards for his fortitude.

Such was not the case now. As his physical and emotional strength was sapped by repeated meetings with the Baron, Sandhurst had eventually broken. Sleep deprivation, starvation, and constant pain had conspired to shatter his defenses. He had cried, he had pleaded and begged and howled. The Baron had used various cutting implements at first, and insinuated that these were a 'warm up.' He had subsequently moved on to more creative means: fire, water, suffocation, electrocution, and finally direct neural induction.

Sandhurst had not known such levels of agony were possible. Each session invariably ended with him drifting in and out of consciousness, having shrieked and wept himself to utter exhaustion. The only times when he felt anything like his real self was just before the sessions began. His short lived bravado was always stripped away, of course, but those brief moments of defiance were all he had to look forward to now.

The Baron emerged from out of the darkness, his boots clacking noisily on the floor. Sandhurst's head lolled, and he strained to raise it and look at his tormentor. "Howdy," he rasped.

"And a good day to you, Captain." The Baron replied jovially.

"I've been thinking," Sandhurst slurred past cracked and swollen lips, "I think you've got the wrong man."

The Baron busied himself setting up the day's mystery device; it was some kind of apparatus that Sandhurst hadn't seen before. "Oh, really?" The older man chuckled. "And how is that?"

"You want Jean-Luc Picard." Sandhurst coughed and his chest rattled ominously with the effort. "Or Captain DeSoto. Glover maybe. Those guys get abducted all the time." He laughed hoarsely, then gritted his teeth at the pain the effort elicited. "They're in the big leagues. It—" he was wracked by a spasm that contorted his entire body briefly. "It's part of the deal. Big ship, big name, big danger." He moaned softly as his musculature relaxed and released his weight once again to the suspensor field. "Me? I'm nobody."

The Baron smirked as he stepped up to place a small reddish tinted circular device on Sandhurst's temple. "I disagree, Donald. Right now, out of all those presumably important captains, you're the only one who can assist me."

Sandhurst's head bobbed. "Yeah. Definitely Glover. He'd eat this stuff up." Sandhurst giggled irrationally. "You'd like him, he's got a real dark streak."

"Sounds like a man after my own hearts," the Baron murmured distractedly as he fiddled with his ever present crystal device. Finished, he turned his gaze back on Sandhurst. "Well then, Donald. Shall we get started?"

"Already? And here I thought we were having a moment."

The Baron's wicked smile returned. "Moment's over." He touched the crystal and suddenly Donald was five years old again, sitting in the kitchen of his parent's house in Johannesburg. It was more perfect than any holo-program he'd ever experienced. Every sight, smell and sound exactly as he remembered. Sandhurst could still hear the Baron, whose voice echoed in his head. This is similar to the neural induction you experienced, only it taps directly into your memories. It allows me to manipulate your long term memory engrams, to shape your recollections however I please. I also have the ability to revert your emotional responses to the appropriate age. It's all rather ingenious, really, perverting your fondest childhood memories to torture you with your own past.

Donald's mother stepped back from the kitchen replicator station, startled by a loud noise in the next room. That's when the Nausicaans burst in. Donald screamed as one of them grabbed his mother roughly…

*****

 

[Count Zero]

Now, that's insidious torture. Wow. Hopefully, not all of the remaining chapters will end on such a dark note.

I loved Dunleavy's first contact and her reaction to it. Really funny. Well, at least the Gibraltar crew has some powerful allies now, it seems. They'll have quite the story once TIA arrives.

 

[Gibraltar]

Now, that's insidious torture. Wow. Hopefully, not all of the remaining chapters will end on such a dark note.

No promises.

I loved Dunleavy's first contact and her reaction to it. Really funny. Well, at least the Gibraltar crew has some powerful allies now, it seems. They'll have quite the story once TIA arrives.

Let's hope there's someone left to tell TIA anything at all...

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

It fled in a panic. It had been so engrossed with tormenting the corporeals on the planet's surface that it nearly hadn't registered the arrival of its former captors. It had foolishly believed that wherever it was, no matter that it remained linked to its prison, that it was somehow out of reach of those who had confined it for countless centuries.

It rocketed out of the gravity well with the Sentinels in pursuit. As it ran it turned its senses back on its hunters. It hoped to divine what their plans might be, and it was unprepared to find fear among its jailor's emotions. If they feared it, it must have the power to hurt them. It had never considered that possibility.

The creature slowed and gathered its strength as it marshaled its anger. As they approached, it turned suddenly to attack…

*****

Ramirez, Juneau, Tark and three others stayed behind as the last of the surface team to beam out. As they waited for the transporter cycle to initiate, Juneau surreptitiously moved a hand to activate a control on the interface bracelet attached to her wrist beneath her uniform sleeve. A cascading field of transporter energy descended over Ramirez and the other three to sweep them away, but Juneau and Tark remained.

Tark grimaced. "What now?" He moved to activate his compin, but instead slumped insensate to the floor, victim to Juneau's concealed stun field. She knelt beside him and unfolded a small device that had been housed in the bracelet that she then placed on the unconscious Tellarite's forehead. The engramatic purge took only seconds to completely erase the master chief's short term memory for the past two days.

Her compin chirped, "Ramirez to Juneau, report." The lieutenant did not reply.

She removed her interface bracelet and set it to self destruct while simultaneously emitting a thoron field that would serve as part of the real Olivia's unwitting cover story. As the bracelet vaporized, Juneau laid down next to Tark as she prepared to sublimate her consciousness and wake Olivia after a brief delay. The real Juneau would have no recollections of the past two days during which the operative had been in control of her body. Thus, both she and Tark would exhibit the same symptoms, apparent victims of some mysterious thoron-based energy discharge on the surface.

As she slipped into oblivion, Gibraltar's transporter sensors finally managed to cut through the localized thoron interference and the ship's two remaining personnel were whisked home.

*****

Ramirez stepped onto the bridge to find an invisible pall of melancholy hanging over the crew. People manned their stations dutifully, but the anguish and trials of their mission to this damnable planet had taken their toll. Nearly everyone aboard had a friend who'd been injured or killed in the past three days.

Before leaving the transporter room, she had watched tight-lipped as Tark and Juneau, both unconscious, had finally materialized on the transporter pad. It was as if the planet below just couldn't see fit to let them go without extracting another pound of flesh, this time in the form of the two inexplicably comatose crew.

A battered Pava Lar'ragos sat in the center seat, his left hand encased in an ostio-regenerator cuff. His shoulders sagged with exhaustion and defeat, and as he looked up to greet the exec she could read both the physical and emotional pain in his eyes.

"Status," she ordered crisply.

Lar'ragos slid out of the command chair and stood shakily. "Sir, long range scans haven't turned up any signs of the captain or the Baron. Repairs have been completed on all shipboard systems. Transporter room one reports that both Lieutenant Juneau and Master Chief Tark have been recovered, though both are unconscious and non-responsive. They're on their way to Sickbay, Commander."

Ramirez shook her head in dismay. "I was there." She gestured to the ready room, poised to ask Lar'ragos to join her, but the warble of the Ops panel cut her off.

The petty officer at the Operations board announced, "Incoming subspace transmission, Commander." The young man scrutinized his readouts and then added, "No identifier on the message, sir."

As she turned to face the viewer, Ramirez queried, "Type?"

"It's a request for visual communication, sir. Source is unknown and I'm unable to trace it." He engaged a series of subroutines, then finally concluded, "Wherever it's coming from, it's close. Definitely from within this star system, sir."

Ramirez set her shoulders. "Set our communications viral filters to maximum, and put it on screen."

It seemed everyone on the bridge jumped simultaneously as the bright crescent of Pierosh II on the viewer was replaced with the naked, bloodied, and screaming form of Captain Sandhurst. Lar'ragos stood transfixed as he struggled to integrate the image on the viewscreen with the man he knew so well. His blood turned to ice in his veins, and he fought back waves of intrusive memories of the atrocities he himself had inflicted on others in his youth. One small part of Lar'ragos wondered selfishly if his friend's ordeal was yet another penance for him to pay.

The only one who seemed largely unaffected was Ramirez, though her jaw set and her eyes grew hooded. On the screen, Sandhurst sobbed, begged for mercy, and implored his torturer to tell him what it would take to make the pain stop. Suddenly, the image was gone, replaced with the countenance of the Baron, a dark backdrop behind him. "Now that I have your attention, I would like to discuss terms for the release of your captain."

Ramirez's reply was brutally succinct. "We don't negotiate with terrorists and kidnappers."

The Baron smiled fearsomely. "Really? Shall I arrange for the transfer of your captain's body, then?"

Unable to stop himself, Lar'ragos spoke out of turn and earned a rebuking glare from Ramirez. "Wait! What is it you want in return for his safety?"

The Baron appeared to savor Lar'ragos' discomfort. "My time is growing short, and I must move to capture the entity within the next five hours. Loath as I am to admit it, I require your help in order to snare the beast."

She held up a hand and Ramirez interjected, "Just a moment, Baron. Anyone can fake an image of a man being tortured, and I have difficulty believing that you've broken Captain Sandhurst in the mere three hours you've had him captive."

The Baron laughed coarsely and his words dripped with disdain. "You forget, Leftenant Commander, I am in possession of a time machine. I can not only navigate the currents and eddies of all history; I can also control its flow aboard my own ship. The temporal chamber in which Donald is housed allows me to slow the passage of time to suit my whims." There was a delighted gleam in the man's eyes that convinced Ramirez that his assertion was absolutely true. "Though mere hours have passed for you, Donald and I have had weeks together."

That proved too much for Lar'ragos to bear, and the man became unhinged. "You monstrous son of a bitch," he raged. His hands clenched into claws with which it seemed he might tear the fabric of the universe apart to get at the Baron. "When I find you, I will kill you slowly with my own hands!"

Ramirez wheeled on the El Aurian. "Lieutenant, you're relieved. Get off the bridge now." She didn't raise her voice. She didn't have to.

He regained some small measure of control and Lar'ragos strode mutely into the turbolift. Ramirez turned back to the screen and acted as though the interruption hadn't occurred. "Let's say for the sake of argument that I'm prepared to entertain this idea. What would you need from us?"

The Baron acted as if Ramirez's grudging cooperation had been a forgone conclusion. "On my command, you will direct a power transfer beam of thirty megawatts per minute to these coordinates," the image was overlaid by numerical equations which quickly vanished. "Once completed, you will immediately initiate a static warp shell at a frequency of thirty-seven point one Cochranes and hold it for a period of two minutes."

"And these tasks would accomplish what, Baron?"

The man assumed an even more feral grin. "You do not need to know the reasons behind these actions. It is only necessary that you comply."

Ramirez stood firm. "And if we do as you require, and you manage to trap this creature, what then? What's to stop you from unleashing this thing on any number of unsuspecting worlds nearby?"

"I have no designs on anything or anyone in your reality, Leftenant Commander. My quarrel is with the denizens of my home dimension." He smirked, as if entertaining some amusing thought. "And if I do not gain control over the dragon, the portal will close and it will be loosed upon you and yours. Believe me when I say that no weapon or defense that you possess can affect the creature in the slightest. If by some chance you're fortunate to survive its initial rampage, you will have the dubious honor of witnessing the destruction of countless worlds across this quadrant of your galaxy."

Ramirez countered, "And we have only your good word to rely on, Baron? Why not return Sandhurst to us as a gesture of goodwill? I would be much more inclined to cooperate without the Sword of Damocles hanging over our heads."

"You will cooperate regardless. You simply have no other alternatives." And with that the transmission terminated.

Ramirez stood there, arms folded across her chest, deep in thought. The others on the bridge shifted uneasily in their seats, unsure of what was to come. Most among the crew had learned through the grapevine of Ramirez's objections to her current assignment. Would she leave Sandhurst to his fate, as Starfleet guidelines would seem to dictate? Or would she take the bolder road of those officers who threw the rulebook aside at such times to strike out and make their own plans? The XO could easily remedy her current circumstances, right here, right now, and do so within the bounds of official conduct.

Finally, Ramirez toggled her compin. "Commander Plazzi and Lieutenant Ashok, report to the briefing room. We're going to be making some modifications to the ship."

*****

Sandhurst awoke and bobbed to the surface of consciousness like a Terran pearl diver who had been submerged too long. He gasped and sputtered, then urinated on himself as he fought to focus his vision long enough to look the Baron in the eyes.

It took him a long moment to realize that the figure situated in his swimming vision was not the Baron, but a burly Orion clad in the trappings of a merchant prince and ship's captain. He struggled with a dim memory from his time at the academy… an ahmet was their culture's title for such a leader.

He took in a deep, rattling breath and willed his uncooperative mouth and larynx to form the semblance of words. "Good mor-- ning Ahmet. To what do… I owe…" he was wracked by a bought of coughing that subsided after a moment. "…the pleasure?" he finished.

The Orion merely studied him for a time as he drank in the man's broken body and tried to take some measure of the spirit still lodged within the casing of maltreated flesh. "It would appear, Captain, that we have both run afoul of a particularly malevolent force."

"B—Baron," Sandhurst wheezed.

"Yes." The Orion clasped his hands in front of him. "He has made you his prisoner, and he has transformed me into a destitute underling."

"Trade you," Sandhurst offered.

"I think I'll pass, thank you." The Orion stood quietly for another few minutes, clearly giving something a great deal of thought. Eventually, he broke his silence. "If I were to help you to escape this place, could you guarantee me safe passage out of Federation space?"

"Yes."

"Do not answer too quickly," the ahmet cautioned. "I led my ship in an attack on your vessel, then boarded it with the Baron's help and killed several members of your crew. I do not apologize for my actions, or seek to excuse them. I also do not want a simple change of scenery to lead you to alter your decision about this. If we can escape, have I your word that you won't turn and see me incarcerated like some common thief?"

"I'd k—" Sandhurst struggled to maneuver his thick tongue. "I'd kiss… your ass to leave… this place," he said simply.

Kutav bobbed his head back twice, the Orion variant of a nod. He turned wordlessly and left.

Sandhurst could not trust his own senses to tell him if the Orion had even been there. Perhaps this was his mind playing cruel tricks on him, or yet another of the Baron's sick torments. As he considered these options, he slipped once again beneath the waves and sank into the cool, painless abyss of unconsciousness.

*****

Executive Officer's Quarters, USS Gibraltar
In geo-synchronous orbit of Pierosh II

After meeting with Plazzi and Ashok to set the necessary systems modifications in motion, Ramirez had rewarded herself with twenty minutes dedicated solely to her before their common predicament came to a head. Just time enough for a quick sonic shower and something to eat, to buoy her ebbing strength.

Her spacious quarters were still Spartan and largely undecorated. She didn't intend for this to become a long term hitch; just a year's time aboard Gibraltar and she could get on with her career.

After she pulled on a fresh uniform, Ramirez grabbed a plate of Andorian taaftan bread, a bowl of Vulcan plomeek soup, and a New York cut sirloin steak from the delivery slot of the replicator. She had moved her computer terminal to sit atop her dining table, and sorted through her correspondence as she ate. Ramirez sought anything to free her mind from the portentous thoughts that plagued her.

The messages were a mix of subspace communiqués from friends and colleagues, and the typical variety of administrative busy work mandated by Command. She paused as she spotted a missive that had been sent both to Captain Sandhurst and herself, although she had received it on an intentional twenty-four hour delay. Apparently, the captain's inaction on this message had exhausted his window of opportunity, and the message had been activated on Ramirez's terminal. She toggled an audio version of the notification.

"To Lt. Commander Liana Ramirez, executive officer, USS Gibraltar. Effective this date you are hereby promoted to the rank of Commander, with all the duties and privileges thereto. Your dedication and professionalism have been in the finest tradition of Starfleet. Congratulations."

Signed,

Vice Admiral Lewton Westerly
Starfleet Bureau of Personnel
Starbase 27, Morab Sector

Ramirez stared numbly at the screen, a half-eaten piece of taaftan bread dipped in soup suspended in her hand. The terminal dispatched a signal to her replicator station, and the device hummed to life. It produced a full rank pip to replace her brevetted one.

Unbelievable, she thought. This promotion had been in the works since Ramirez had been scheduled to transfer from her post as XO on the starship Tempest, presumably to Admiral Covey's staff. Once she'd been shuffled off to Gibraltar, she had assumed the promotion would be delayed a year until she finished her commitment to Sandhurst's command.

Here, now, amidst all the chaos and heartbreak of this mission, even her long awaited promotion tasted like ashes. Considering their current circumstances, she wouldn't dare change her rank insignia until the captain had been recovered. It would be an affront to the crew, who would doubtless take it as an attempt to capitalize on Sandhurst's hostage status.

Ramirez's door chimed, but she was still so sidetracked by the unexpected announcement that it took a second chime for her to respond. "Who is it?"

"Lieutenant Lar'ragos, sir."

She sighed. "Do I really want to talk to you at this moment, Pava?"

He hesitated a beat. "I… would hope so, sir. I'd like to apologize for my earlier actions, if you're prepared to hear me out."

She closed her eyes briefly. "Enter." The doors parted and a regretful looking Lar'ragos walked into the cabin.

"This had better be good after the stunt you pulled, Lieutenant. And I'd remind you there's an airlock on this deck, so don't tempt me."

He nodded as he moved to the couch. Lar'ragos nearly sat, but turned instead to seek permission.

Ramirez motioned curtly for him to be seated.

Lar'ragos made himself comfortable. "I am sorry, Commander. Seeing the captain like that was…"

"Beyond horrible, I know."

"Yes." He frowned and lowered his head to look at his clasped hands. "I know I didn't help matters any, and I hope you can find it in yourself to trust me to help you resolve this situation."

Ramirez sat forward, suddenly overcome by an urge to be uncommonly candid. Part of her realized that was probably the result of one of Lar'ragos' special gifts, but she found that she didn't care. "Pava, you of all people should have realized where I was going with that line of questioning. If I'd had immediately capitulated to the Baron, he'd have smelled duplicity and would have either killed the captain straight away or attacked the ship again out of sheer desperation."

Admonished, Lar'ragos sat silent as he digested that.

"I want the captain back as badly as anyone," she continued, "but we're dealing with a megalomaniacal crazy with his finger on the trigger of a super-weapon. I will not, under any circumstances, help this man capture the creature. The Baron claims that the thing has destroyed entire star systems, and if he's telling the truth I'll bet it was done on his orders." Her eyes registered Lar'ragos' dour expression. "I won't trade Donald Sandhurst for the lives of billions, nor would he want me to. Not in this universe, or any other."

"We could get help," Lar'ragos offered. "The Sutherland is en route to Setlik III to help rebuild the colony. She could be here in less than fifty hours." He smiled and tried to turn on the charm. "I've served with Captain Shelby, Commander. If I tell her we need backup, no force in the universe would stop her from coming to our aid."

Ramirez refused to budge. "Pava, we lost a lot of good people at Lakesh because Command couldn't see what it was we were actually up against until it was too late. If this creature is as powerful as the Baron insists, it could destroy a fleet of starships effortlessly. I won't put another ship in its crosshairs unnecessarily."

Lar'ragos tensed. "So, what now? We simply do this by ourselves?"

"No. Command has ordered Sovereign here to assist, and she's reportedly carrying a team of experts in this sort of cross-dimensional incursion. We're going to wait for them."

"How long?"

Ramirez settled back in her chair and looked pained. "Four days until they arrive."

That would be too late, and they both knew it. Lar'ragos let it go unsaid.

"I can help you here, Commander. We have to save him."

She smiled without enthusiasm. "That's certainly my goal." She gave the Security chief an appraising look as she queried, "What can you bring to the table?"

His haunted eyes bore into hers. "The Baron's a monster, isn't he? Well, I've been one, too." With absolute sincerity he murmured, "Perhaps it takes one to catch one. Let me get inside his head."

*****

 

[Count Zero]

Well, that's an unlikely alliance, there. Whoever promoted Ramirez has a talent for bad timing. I liked that you had the Baron say Leftenant Commander.

 

[Gibraltar]

Well, that's an unlikely alliance, there.

Indeed.

Whoever promoted Ramirez has a talent for bad timing.

In all fairness, it's not like they knew Ramirez and her shipmates were going to be stepping into the *@$^ that week.

I liked that you had the Baron say Leftenant Commander.

Good Lord, sir! 'E's using the Queen's English, 'e is!

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 18

Chapter 18

There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ship’s smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re sayin’.
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone.
I cannot put my finger on it now.
The child is grown, the dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.


- Pink Floyd

Main Bridge, USS Gibraltar
In geo-synchronous orbit of Pierosh II

They were committed. More accurately, they were stranded.

To produce a power transfer beam of sufficient strength to meet the Baron’s requirements had necessitated that Ashok make substantial modifications to the ship’s main deflector. Thus, at present Gibraltar was limited to impulse speeds and was effectively anchored to the Pierosh star system until those alterations could be undone.

Although Commander Ramirez was hesitant to hamstring the ship so completely, it was a necessary ruse to convince the presumably watchful eye of the Baron that they were cooperating with his demands.

She sat in the center seat, fully in command and ever so mindful that the last time she had occupied such a position the starship in question had been shot out from under her. She promised herself that the fate of the Phoenix would not be repeated this day. Ramirez turned a slow circle in the captain’s chair as she inspected her people and their readiness.

Lar’ragos, bruised but unbowed, stood at the Tactical console directly behind her. Plazzi manned the Science station with quiet efficiency as he probed every conceivable nook and cranny within sensor range for a telltale sign of the Baron’s whereabouts. Ashok, who normally shunned the bridge, was seated at the Engineering console to monitor the final adjustments to the newly reinforced power waveguides that would convey the massive energies from the reactor core to the deflector dish.

Lightner sat at the Flight Control station while he ran a seemingly endless string of evasion simulations. Sadly, Juneau who had proved so unexpectedly formidable on the planet’s surface was still recovering in Sickbay, and her bridge station was filled by a senior NCO from the Operations department. Ramirez was encouraged that the young woman seemed so changed by her brief command experience aboard the runabout. Perhaps one positive thing had resulted from the Pierosh Incident after all.

Plazzi emitted a discontented grunt that caught Ramirez’s attention. She observed him for a moment and watched as he ran a series of multi-spectrum sensor scans that appeared to be directed at the system’s star. She resisted the urge to pry, trusting that he’d bring the issue to her when he had sufficient information.

A few moments later, he did just that. Plazzi stepped over to the command chair and leaned in to whisper discretely, “Sir, there’s something going on out there.” She gave him a patiently expectant look, and he elaborated. “I’m reading all sorts of unusual gravimetric and spatial anomalies throughout the system, with the highest concentration in the immediate vicinity of the sun.”

“Do you think it’s the creature, or something the Baron’s doing?”

Plazzi looked unsure. “This is just supposition on my part, but whatever’s happening out there is taking place in subspace, and it’s widespread. I’d be very surprised if the Baron’s vessel, however powerful, could generate enough energy to create all the chaos I’m seeing.”

Ramirez contemplated that. “If it’s the creature, what’s it up to?”

“If I had to guess, sir, I’d say its violence of some kind.”

The exec inclined her head. “Dunleavy’s orbs, maybe?”

“Perhaps. She was told that one of them would be contacting us, and that’s yet to happen. Maybe they’re slugging it out in the ether.”

She looked uncomfortable with that prospect as she queried, “So who’s winning?”

Plazzi offered an apologetic smile. “Couldn’t say, Commander. It’s a bit like trying to judge an undersea battle by the ripples it produces on the surface.” His demeanor grew more serious, and he added, “But if this continues to increase in magnitude, it could very well destabilize the star itself.”

Ramirez sat a little straighter in her chair. “Destabilize as in…?”

“Resulting in violent stellar behavior, to be certain. Exactly how bad is the question, sir. We could experience some especially nasty solar flare activity, or if the disruption is catastrophic enough, the star could go nova.”

She swore under her breath, then added, “And we just took the nav deflector offline.”

“It might not make any difference,” Plazzi said, sounding a pragmatic note. “With this much subspace chop, it’s doubtful we could generate and maintain a stable enough warp field to outrun a stellar nova in the first place.”

Ramirez gave the Science officer a severe look. “You’re really a glass-is-half-empty type of guy, aren’t you Elisto?”

Plazzi waggled an eyebrow and turned back towards the Science station. “Guilty as charged, sir.”

As Ramirez mulled over the scientist’s assessment, she inquired, “Will this prevent us from establishing the static warp shell the Baron’s demanded?”

Plazzi resumed his seat a the Science station. “No, sir. The planet’s gravity well is shielding us from much of the anomalous activity. A static warp field meeting the Baron’s parameters at this location shouldn’t prove too difficult.”

Ramirez sat back in the chair, suddenly feeling the weight of command sinking onto her shoulders. Dupe a highly dangerous interdimensional criminal while simultaneously trying to free the captain from his clutches. Simple, really. She mused darkly that this was one of those eventualities the academy training scenarios never seemed to cover. As creative as the instructors’ imaginations had been, none of them could have fashioned a simulation this bizarre.

*****

Cargo Bay 3, Deck 5, USS Gibraltar
In geo-synchronous orbit of Pierosh II

Ensign Kuenre Shanthi had been willing to undertake any task, no matter how menial, in order to get out of another day in Sickbay. The injuries he had suffered at the hands Parlan had been serious, but were easily mended by Taiee’s expertise. He had already spent more days that he’d care to remember atop a biobed, and so when the word had gone out that the crew were looking for volunteers to assist with the modifications to the ship’s navigational deflector, Shanthi had jumped at the chance.

Still numb from the death of his lover, Kuenre was nonetheless mindful of his name and the reputation of his family in Starfleet. This was no time to lay helpless in the medical ward plagued by feelings of loss and regret. Only work would free his mind from his troubles, however briefly.

He had been put to work supervising the move of five induction stabilizers from the deflector control room into storage, to make room for the additional power waveguides. As he directed the anti-grav pallets into the cargo bay, he noted their placement on a padd and made certain to double-check their serial numbers as well as those on the cargo containers they were placed next to.

Shanthi stared at a cargo identifier tag on a stack of three cargo crates as he tried for a moment to make sense of the jumbled script. It looked like a standard cargo ID label, but the text was a mishmash of random letters and numbers.

Always the science officer, he made a habit of carrying a tricorder with him at all times. He flipped the device open and scanned the unusual crate stack and the ones surrounding it. The scans showed identical contents within the target stack and the stack nearest it. However, just as Shanthi was staring at the readout, his team deposited the containers holding the induction stabilizers nearby. The readings from the unusual crate stack in question instantly changed, and now showed their contents to be induction stabilizers rather than the previously noted equipment.

The ensign stared incredulously at the tricorder and wondered if it were malfunctioning. Then it occurred to him. Something was amiss in Cargo Bay 3. The young man tapped his compin. “Shanthi to security, I need some assistance…”

*****

The heavens howled with the brutal exchange of energy that rent the very fabric of space and time asunder. The creature battled the Sentinels ferociously as it fought like the cornered animal it was. The Sentinels, conversely, tried to lure the monster back towards the rift on the surface. They baited it, taunted it, and pricked its substance with weapons that could shatter entire continents.

In the midst of this maelstrom, a lone Sentinel broke ranks and moved off to tunnel its way up through successive layers of subspace towards the humanoids’ starship.

*****

Sandhurst reacted to the injection almost instantly. The cobwebs that clouded his head reduced fractionally, but his pain level abated significantly. He willed his eyes open to see Ahmet Kutav standing before him, a stylized syringe of some sort engulfed in his large hand.

The Orion’s words came to him as if from across a great chasm. “You are fortunate that much of my squandered youth was spent formulating and peddling illicit narcotics. Our friend the Baron has quite the laboratory onboard his ship.”

Sandhurst began to feel something akin to human once again. It was the first time in a long while.

“What you’re experiencing right now is a psycho-pharmaceutical illusion, Captain. I’ve mixed a powerful narcotic painkiller with a potent amphetamine. The physical damage you’ve suffered remains, and I’d warn you not to overextend yourself.”

“What… mean by… overextend?” Sandhurst managed to gurgle.

The ahmet growled, “Continue breathing and focus your energy on trying not to die of your injuries. Clear enough?”

Sandhurst grunted his understanding.

Kutav pulled a small padd-like device from a pocket in his vest. “I believe the Baron’s crystal, for all its sophistication, utilizes some very simple radio frequencies for much of its control of shipboard systems.” He squinted at the display and plugged away at the device with fingers that were decidedly too large. “Let’s see if we can find the frequency that controls your suspensor field.”

*****

Gibraltar jolted from another subspace shear that jostled Ramirez in the command chair. In the last thirty minutes the spatial disruptions had increased considerably and the strain on their shields was beginning to tell. The exec glanced up at Dunleavy as the younger woman stumbled onto the bridge from the turbolift. The security non-com grasped at the safety railing to regain her balance.

“Dunleavy, where are my spheres?” Ramirez groused. “I was promised happy, shiny, presumably helpful alien spheres.” The XO gestured theatrically at the surrounding bridge. “I am witnessing a decided lack of spheres here.”

Dunleavy blanched. “I’m sorry, sir. I was told they would be in contact with us; that they required our help, but I wasn’t given any specific timetable.”

Ramirez’s frown deepened as the vessel was buffeted again. She spun around in the chair and looked to Lar’ragos. “Okay, Lieutenant, I need options. We have a deteriorating situation in system, a ticking countdown to our expected moment of cooperation, and no idea whatsoever where our enemy is hiding.”

Lar’ragos looked grim, and appeared just about to reply when something on his status board caught his attention. His eyes lit up as he focused a serious look on the first officer. “We might have something, sir. An unidentified object disguised as a stack of cargo crates in one of our cargo bays.” He tensed expectantly.

“Go,” she replied.

The Security/Tactical chief sprinted for the lift with Dunleavy in tow as the crewman at the Ops board announced an incoming message. “Sovereign is hailing us, Commander.”

As much as she dreaded the choices she would have to make in the coming minutes, Ramirez harbored a deeper fear of having her options restricted by someone up the chain of command with little understanding of their situation and no personal investment in the outcome. She prayed the officer on the other end of the conversation would grant her some leeway. Reluctantly, Ramirez ordered, “On screen.”

An Efrosian female stood in center frame of the viewer, the spacious bridge of a Sovereign-class starship arrayed behind her. “Commander Ramirez, I am Special Agent Ixis of Temporal Investigations. We’ve received the latest updates on your circumstances.”

Ramirez swayed in the seat as a shear slammed into their aft quarter. She managed to hold Ixis’ gaze but remained silent.

Undaunted by Ramirez’s lack of response, Ixis continued. “I want to make myself absolutely clear here, Commander. Under no circumstances are you to give the Baron any assistance. Not even marginal help in the context of a ruse to secure Sandhurst’s return.”

Ramirez replied coldly but calmly. “You’re three days away at best speed, Ms. Ixis.” She had deliberately omitted the woman’s title. “I would remind you that I am the ranking officer on-scene, and as such I retain control of this situation.”

Ixis’ expression could have frozen plasma. “Really, Commander? I’ve seen no indication of a workable plan from you or any of your officers. I believe you’re trying to wing this, making it up as you go along. That’s unacceptable.” The Efrosian’s voice was saturated with derision. “You can’t play fast and loose against odds like these, not with the lives of billions potentially hanging in the balance.”

Ramirez noted, “Our lives are riding on this as well.” She allowed the merest hint of a sarcastic smirk to grace her lips as she said dourly, “I’ve no intention of helping the Baron to achieve his plans, whatever they may be. However, if I can keep him dangling long enough to affect a rescue of our captain, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Ixis countered, “We don’t share your priorities, Commander. The capture of this Baron and his vessel are of paramount importance. That takes precedence over all other considerations, including the recovery of Sandhurst.”

Ramirez’s retort was succinct. “Go to hell.”

Ixis grimaced. “We don’t have a hell in Efrosian mythology, Commander, but if we did you wouldn’t stand a chance there.” From off screen a bluish hand descended and came to rest atop the special agent’s shoulder.

“That will be sufficient, Agent Ixis.” Captain Rixx’s resonant voice and firm hand conspired to make the woman stiffen noticeably.

“Captain, do not interfere,” she hissed. “TI has taken the lead on this assignment, and I’ll thank you to—“

Rixx was unfazed by the woman’s venom. “You will stand down or I will have you removed from my bridge. Sit and be silent or you’ll find yourself restricted to quarters.” The Bolian’s hand tightened fractionally on her shoulder to underscore his statement. Ixis’ mouth snapped shut as two security officers stepped forward from their posts near the turbolifts. She retreated mutely to her chair at the mission specialist’s station.

The captain leveled his stoic gaze on Ramirez. “Commander, I regret that we won’t arrive in time to offer any substantive help. Regardless, however you see fit to proceed, rest assured that I’ll support whatever decisions you make. Your duty here is clear; how you achieve it in the coming hours is your business.” He offered a perfunctory nod of his head. “Upon our arrival we stand ready to either congratulate you… or avenge you. Sovereign, out.”

Ramirez stood, momentarily transfixed with the now empty view screen. She was unsure what to make of the power play she’d just witnessed, but was relieved that for the time being the blundering tentacles of Federation bureaucracy would leave her in peace. Another tremor in the deck plates snapped her back to the here and now. “Status?” she inquired as she looked to Plazzi.

The scientist’s assessment was bleak. “Subspace fluctuations continue to increase, sir, and we’re at four minutes, eighteen seconds until the Baron’s deadline.”

She nodded grimly, then glanced over her shoulder at the chief engineer she asked, “Mister Ashok, how’s my siphon coming?”

*****

<cont'd>

 

[Gibraltar]

Geometries of Chance - Chapter 18

Chapter 18 <cont'd>

Cargo Bay 3, Deck 5, USS Gibraltar
In geo-synchronous orbit of Pierosh II

Lar’ragos watched impatiently as the engineers moved the last of the portable shield generators into place around the faux cargo stack. Every scan of the object had returned the same falsified reading and this lead the El Aurian to surmise that this was either a retaliatory explosive device of some kind, or more hopefully, the Baron’s timeship itself. A maintenance drone hovered overhead to support a generator suspended directly above the target to provide three-dimensional coverage.

He conferred with Ensigns Diamato and Shanthi to sketch out his plan for a multi-tiered defensive grid designed to deplete the strength of the Baron’s gargantuan assistant’s personal forcefield, while minimizing the danger to Gibraltar’s remaining security staff.

Reinforcing the portable shield grid was the starship’s own internal containment fields. These would be erected in a cascade progression designed to slow the progress of any intruders who managed to fight their way clear of Cargo Bay 3. Ringed outside the generators were a series of automated phaser emplacements typically used for perimeter security during the war. These would focus massive firepower on any enemy combatants that exited the presumed craft.

He tapped his compin and briefly outlined his plan of attack for Ramirez on the bridge.

“Acknowledged, Lieutenant. Be advised, our deadline is up in forty-five seconds, so you can expect some activity soon.”

“Understood, sir.” Lar’ragos severed the comlink and gestured to his team. “Alright folks, everybody out. We’ll monitor the device from out in the corridor.” As they exited, Lar’ragos activated the shield grid and powered up the phaser emplacements.

They moved into the hallway, which was filled with various monitoring and power generation equipment, as well as littered with makeshift tactical barriers designed to allow security personnel to fire from cover in close quarters combat. Lar’ragos activated the viewer set into the corridor wall and waited.

*****

The Baron stood at the central control dais of his timeship as he flipped switches, turned knobs, and monitored Gibraltar’s power build up. He was flanked by Parlan, his diminutive human assistant. Looking to the smaller man, he effused, “I am on the cusp of a great victory. Soon, I can return triumphantly to our universe and resume my rightful station.”

Parlan nodded obediently. “As you say, Master.”

“I am inputting the coordinates of the focal point of the starship’s transfer beam. Prepare the baffles to stem the energy influx and route it into the oculus.” He then gave the other man a vindictive sneer. “And send your cousin out onto the starship to ensure their compliance. There is no margin for error here.”

Parlan toggled a control on the dais. “Immediately, Master.”

The Baron’s manservant observed on a tiny display screen as the hulking form of his larger namesake stepped out of the craft.

The timeship lurched as the dematerialization sequence began that sent the craft away from its hiding place within the starship towards its meeting place with destiny.

*****

Cargo Bay 3 was filled with an eerie pulsing screech that echoed off the walls as the object disguised as a stack of crates slowly vanished. In its place stood the giant humanoid that had wrought so much havoc in Sickbay half a day earlier.

Lar’ragos closed his eyes briefly as he mourned the lost opportunity to rescue his friend. After a second’s hesitation, he found his focus and pressed the firing button on the padd that controlled the phaser emplacements.

The giant found himself at the center of six intersecting beams of phaser energy, and surrounded by layered forcefields established to bar his progress.

The fight was on.

*****

“Initiate power transfer beam.” She had almost choked on the words.

A quietly voiced affirmative response was the only sound on the bridge as the view screen shifted to show a white-hot beam of energy that reached from Gibraltar’s deflector dish to an otherwise unremarkable point in space above Pierosh II.

Ramirez directed a hopeful half smile at Plazzi and raised her hand to display her crossed fingers. The older man acknowledged the gesture with an identical one. “Standby…” she ordered.

The overhead speakers crackled with interference as Lar’ragos’ voice washed over the bridge. “We’ve got company down here, sir. I’ll keep you updated.”

*****

The Baron struggled to keep his sense of barely contained glee from overwhelming him as he announced, “Transfer beam on time and precisely where I’d instructed.” He moved around the control table like a man possessed as he checked readings, threw levers, and multi-tasked at inhuman speeds. “Parlan, lock out the circuit breakers, I don’t want the ship to panic and cut the power feed prematurely.”

The bespectacled man blinked, the confusion evident on his face as he studied the controls. “I’m… not certain I remember how to do that, Master.”

The Baron glowered at him. “What’s the matter with you? All this excitement have you locked into a diagnostic cycle again?” The ship’s master moved around the dais to shove Parlan none-too-gently aside as he carried out the procedure himself. “Remind me to crack you open and have a look when all this is over,” he growled.

*****

Ramirez watched the seconds tick down in the corner of the viewer as the power beam reached maximum output. She turned in her seat and inclined her head towards the Bolian lieutenant manning the Engineering station. “Now, Mister Ashok.”

Ashok replied in his basso rumble and announced, “Inverting power field and activating energy siphon, Commander.”

As she swiveled around to face the view screen, Ramirez murmured, “Let’s see how you like the taste of that, Baron.”

*****

The timeship shuddered violently and threw the Baron and Parlan against the control station. As he squinted to read an oscillating display screen, the older man howled, “No! They’ve reversed the power stream!” His face collapsed into a mask of utter fury as his hands flew across the controls and he strove desperately to keep the starship from draining his vessel’s power reserves. “I have been betrayed,” he seethed. “I will kill Sandhurst slowly while his crew watches, and then I’ll tear that ship apart piece by misbegotten piece!”

Parlan watched the Baron’s efforts while he grasped the console for support as the vessel bucked and jerked like a frenzied animal. “Yes, Master.”

From the shadowy entrance to the corridor outside, Ahmet Kutav emerged. He supported the naked and badly abused form of Donald Sandhurst who shuffled painfully beside the larger Orion.

Amidst the chaos of his predicament, the Baron looked up at their arrival, and immediately flew into a rage. “What is this? I gave no instructions for him to be freed from the time chamber!”

Kutav put some effort into appearing perplexed as he braced both himself and Sandhurst against the ship’s unpredictable movement. “Forgive me, Baron. I’d assumed that you would want him present to witness your triumph, as well as the destruction of his vessel.”

The Baron drew his crystal from within the folds of his dark cloak. “Nothing happens aboard my vessel that I have not ordered to be so! I knew allowing alien refuse like you onto my ship was a mistake.”

Kutav smiled savagely. “More than you know, Baron.”

As he raised the crystal in his hand and prepared to cut down the insolent Orion, the Baron was unprepared for the knife that Parlan slid between his ribs. Aghast at this unexpected betrayal, the older man turned to look at his android servant as his legs gave out. He slid slowly towards the floor and the Baron croaked in disbelief, “How can this be?”

The Chameloid shape-shifter Mutwen had been in the employ of Kutav’s family for generations. The ahmet found the man’s changeling abilities useful on occasion, and Mutwen had been responsible for the demise of more than one of Kutav’s sworn enemies over the decades. Very few among Sethret’s crew had known that he was anything other than the average Orion privateer that he appeared.

Kutav assisted Sandhurst to the control pedestal. He scowled at the mortally wounded man as he did so. “You make a habit of underestimating your opponents, Baron. Your arrogance blinds you, and I have made a life thriving in the blind spots of men and governments.” The merchant prince looked quizzically at Sandhurst as the frail human gestured to a control display with a shaking hand. “What is it, Captain?”

“Help… help me access… a schematic,” Sandhurst panted as he hoped against hope that he could decipher the peculiarities of the sophisticated craft in time.

*****