Olympus Mons: The Hounds of Sirius

[pio1776]

SEVEN


Temporary worksite
Between Shuttlepod Kilo and unidentified vessel
0845 hours SST--Wednesday, 20 November 2154

“I hate reporters,” said Furry as he ducked his head, pushed the side of the tent aside and stepped in.
“But the Prime Minister said--” Marquette started as he followed him into the temporary tent, which doubled as a makeshift morgue and sickbay in one.

“I have no idea what the prime Minister said,” replied Furry as he stopped and eyed her. “Lieutenant--”

Marquette nearly bumped into him.

“--can I call you Ciara?” Furry demanded.

Flustered, the lieutenant nodded dumbly.

“Good.” he flashed a quick smile, and started towards Barb and the closest of the bodies the away teams uncovered after the display of firepower from the two pods earlier in the day. “As you said, reporters were inbound any minute now. Yes?”

“Well . . .” started Marquette, unsure how to respond. Finally she resorted to a quick nod.

“And you’re specialty is what exactly?” From the blue lining across her uniform, Furry figured her to be a science type of some description.

“My specialty?”

“Yeah, you know,” agreed Furry, “your division, department. That sort of thing.”

“Oh, ummm . . .” Marquette frowned slightly. “It’s linguistics.”

“Oh really?”

Marquette nodded.

“How many languages you know?” he asked. Despite continued improvements to universal translators, Starfleet stubbornly insisted that every cadet pick one human language and an alien one as part of their studies--unless one chose Communications as a career. He himself had chosen Farsi and Tellarite, figuring that the former would help him deal with the ECS and the later because . . . well, arguing with a Tellarites in their native language was a lot of fun.

“All the major ones,” she said.

“Then you’re definitely better qualified at handling reporters than I am.” Furry grinned at Marquette.

“But, the Admiral said--”

“--that I report to him directly,” Furry finished, and nodded. “Yeah, I know, Ciara, I know.”

As he said that, he turned Marquette around and nudged her out the tent.

 

[pio1776]

Indeed, I like Jamal...
As for young Ambler? I can't decide if I want to promote him and give him back Olympus Mons or demote him to LT and give him a special ops team...

That was a tense skirmish, but the Romulans successfully broke contact and lived to cause more chaos at a later time. Bashir strikes me as a mana who knows war, and in guessing we haven't seen the last of him.

Furry's going to have to explain why it was so damn important to engage the intruders before backup got there. His decision got people killed and wounded. Here's hoping he can back it up.

Great stuff so far!

 

[pio1776]

*
With the lieutenant out of sight and the chief warrant officer, whose name Furry learned to be Jamal Bashir, and his handpicked team of security experts keeping watch over the campsite, Ambler took a moment to let out a long breath out. This was not what he expected when contact was lost with Thalassa. What was to be a simple digital handshake of a patrol handover turned to the loss of 65 crewmen and women, amongst them being Captain Paula Chapman, and countless Andorian and other alien passengers aboard the Kanuuk passenger-liner.

He leaned against a table, one that contained a rather mangled corpse thanks to a direct hit by Ensign Rowe’s vengeful retaliation. For a moment, he studied in what Corpsman Petty Officer 3rd Class Barb Caffrey confidently identified as a vulcanoid female. He closed his eyes, trying to justify the last few hours. Ezra and Sean were also killed, struck mere seconds after stepping out. Vera had survived, as had Pierre and Duvell, and were resting comfortably in the petitioned area of the tent Barb designated as her sickbay.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The familiar voice of Vera Hernandez made him look up at her, appraising the nurse practitioner as he did. She was bruised and her left shoulder was in a splinter, kept in place close to the Mexican woman’s chest.

Despite her injuries, Vera was definitely on her feet.

Eyeing her Furry considered multiple responses. As it was, he settled on the truth. “Can’t decide if I royally screwed up or stumbled upon a Vulcan plot of some kind?” he told her.

“You could settle for both,” Vera replied quietly, but the forgiving look belied her words.

“That doesn’t make things any better, now does it?” countered Furry, sighed and shook his head. “Ensign Rowe managed to check out what remained of that cargo hold with a couple of the engineers, or what was left of it anyway. Did you know that there was room for a dozen people in there, and there were three of the ships.”

“Yes, but we got some at the end,” she nodded to the corpse in front of Furry.

“Not all of them though,” replied Furry as he straightened.

“It’s a start,” she said earnestly.

“Yeah but there are still Vulcans, Rigelians--whoever they are--running about,” he told her.

“And you’re what,” she ventured, “going to catch them all?”

Furry snorted bemusement. “I’m expecting to be relieved.”

“Doubt that’ll happen in a hurry.”

“Oh yah?”

Vera nodded.

“And what makes you think that, Vera?” Furry asked.

“They’ll need to get someone to examine your head,” she told him matter of fact.

“You volunteering?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. After all, she had called him out on his command style more than one, even calling him “a bloody pirate” once. No doubt, she would happily sign his discharge papers.

However, Marquette reappeared. “Ah . . . sir . . .”

Furry just rolled his eyes as he turned onto the lieutenant. “What?” he snapped.

“Ah, the reporter wants to talk to someone of higher rank,” said Marquette.

Furry just threw up his hands in annoyance.

 

[pio1776]

6.7 meters from landed Squirrel-class hopper
Temporary worksite, formerly scene of firefight
New Scotland Desert, Dunedin
0845 hours SST--Wednesday, 20 November 2154

They had been dispatched from Helensburgh a few minutes after the two ’pods took off from the domed Starfleet outpost just outside of town. Not that they knew what they were getting themselves into, as the outpost’s commander was as tight lipped as an insectoid Xindi with a chip on his shoulder.

The lieutenant that met them on site was no different.

Thankfully for June Watt, she had insider knowledge of who was in command here.

“Ah,” Watt smiled as the lieutenant returned with another officer.

Watt appraised the newcomer, noting the rolled up sleeves, undone anti-plasma vest and uniform caked in sand. A brown cap sat on his head.

She smiled and offered her hand. “Commander Ambler Furry.”

“That’s Lieutenant Commander, Miss Watt,” replied Furry and shook her hand, and smiling while Marquette hung back.

“But you do captain the Olympus Mons.”

“Last I checked, yes I am.” Furry grinned as he let go of her hand.

“But she is nowhere to be seen, Commander.” she did not need to turn around to know her cameraman, an Andorian expat, was already rolling.

Furry looked past Watt’s shoulder, grimaced slightly and refocused on the reporter. “That’s because she is still on patrol,” he said.

“On patrol?” she asked.

Furry nodded, but otherwise said nothing.

“It is our understanding that Thalassa and Kanuuk were lost with all hands just on the system’s periphery, can you confirm this?”

Furry straightened and the air of tolerance vanished.

“Unfortunately that is correct,” he said.

“Can you please tell how that happened, Commander?” prompted Watt. “Starships don’t just self destruct by themselves.”

“Meteors.”

Watt cocked her head. “Meteors?”

“Meteors,” Furry confirmed.

“Surely, Commander,” intoned Watt, and frowned. “Meteors don’t just pop out of thin air and in the direct path of ships, not in this day and age.”

“You are absolutely correct, especially as there is no atmosphere in space,” replied Furry, and raised a forestalling hand. “The fact remains is that, yes--two ships were destroyed and countless dead, many of whom innocent civilians on their way to Procyon. My ship, along with Vietnam and the Sazami, are recovering bodies from the wreckage. I in turn, am here.”

“To?”

“Lead the team investigating the meteor and its impact on the local environment,” replied Furry.

That made Watt skeptical.

“And what if I told you that a reliable source informed me that MACO divers uncovered eight bodies from another such ‘meteor’, as you put it?” challenged Watt.

Furry smiled. “Then I would ask you to have your source prove it.” he then stepped aside, and gestured to where Starfleet were working out on a tarp.

He then smiled at Watt. “Would you like a tour?”

Watt smiled back. “Of course.”

 

[pio1776]

EIGHT


Flight Director’s office
Moana Rua Fleet Station
Dunedin, Sirius A
1212 hours SST--Wednesday, 20 November 2154

Stellingatti visage appeared on the top right hand corner of the screen, and looking intent.

Then again, so did Jo Preston as she watched the news report.

“As you can see,” Commander Furry was saying as he guided the reporter and cameraman towards a half dozen Starfleet personnel. On closer inspection, the group were chiseling away at a rough looking boulder. “Meteor. Our astronomers are still trying to pinpoint their point of origin, and knowing the meteor’s composition will help.”

“In what way?” Watt’s voice demanded off-screen.

“We have a pretty good idea about our local space, thanks by in large to our Tellarite, Andorian and Vulcan allies,” said Furry, “between identifying the meteor’s makeup and trajectory, we should then be able identify its point of origin.”

“For what purpose?” Once more, Watt demanded.

“For quite a few as a matter of fact, simple scientific curiosity being top of that list,” replied Furry. “If the meteor’s point of origin is an uninhabited star system, it may be yet another source of mining opportunities for us and our allies. If the system has a Minshara or two, double the bonus.”

“At the expense of human lives?”

“Sentient lives, Miss Watt, over thirty Andorian and a hundred other alien souls were killed aboard the Kanuuk too.” Furry gave her a hard look. “Captain Chapman were friends, so let’s acknowledge that we all lost someone in this tragedy. Just as equally for their sake, let us see some silver lining in what transpired here.”

Stellingatti grunted from his corner of his screen, but otherwise said nothing as he continued watching the same footage as Preston. For her part, the captain continued watching as Furry showed the reporter around the impromptu site.

“At least he’s convincing,” Preston finally managed as the report ended.

Now fully enlarged to fit the screen, Admiral Stellingatti’s image arched an eyebrow as he sat back. “You disapprove of him I take it, Captain?” he asked, and watched as she nodded. Stellingatti grunted. “Furry is command material, that goes without saying. All he needs is a bit of seasoning.”

“Is that why you want him as my first officer?” Preston demanded with an accompanying frown.

“He’s a natural leader and handy in a fight,” said Stellingatti with a shrug.

“And I find him reckless, Admiral,” she said in response.

Stellingatti sighed. With the Gagarin-class now days away from finishing her trails, enough so that he had instructed the Gagarin to participate in the patrols, she would be handed over to serve as flagship of Sirius Command--much like Enterprise functioned as Exploration Command’s flagship.

“Fine,” the admiral then said, “I will forward your request for Commander Tucker.”

“And Commander Furry?” she wanted to know. “The Olympus Mons has been without her captain for half a day, and while I am pleased with how Lieutenant Patterson has been handling himself, I would be happier if we had someone more senior in charge.”

She did not need to remind him that with one third of the ships assigned to him were on a joint exercise with the Andorians.

On the screen, Stellingatti shook his head. “Olympus Mons will remain under the command of Commander Furry for the foreseeable future, Captain; especially now that he’ll be needing a base of operation to work from,” he said, steeple his fingers and cocked his head. “To be honest with you, I don’t fully understand what you have against the lieutenant commander, and frankly don’t care.. What I care about is the prospect of aliens masquerading as Vulcans on this planet, especially now with the Andorians and Tellarites almost dissolving this so-called federation of planets.” Preston was not going to correct Stellingatti that it was a Coalition, not a Federation. “You’re right about Furry tending to find trouble, almost as if he is drawn to it by some invisible force,” Stellingatti pressed on, “but under the circumstances, I think it’ll be an asset if we are to find the remainder of these infiltrators. No. Olympus Mons remains his, and make sure that Chief Bashir and his troop are assigned to Furry as well.”

Preston nodded, disappointed. Still, Stellingatti was the one with the bordered two solid pips of a Rear Admiral.

“And while you’re at, I think it’s time Furry briefs us of his progress.”

Here, at least Preston smiled. Not there was much mirth. “In person?”

“Damn straight, Captain.” Stellingatti gave her a sharp nod. “Let’s make it oh-eight-thirty tomorrow.”

And with that, Stellingatti signed off, and leaving Preston with her thoughts.

As the computer switched automatically to the local news channel, she sat back and considered her options. Not that there were many. Soon she would be in command of Starfleet’s next-generation of starship, without the usual fanfare that went with Enterprise. The fact she would get Tucker was a bonus. She knew him and respected him as a fellow engineer. The only sad thing being was that she actually enjoyed being Flight Director, which ensured she get her flag rank soon enough. And when she did . . .

Preston smiled despite herself.

 

[Gibraltar]

Well, Furry's survived the backlash from their initial skirmish with the Romulans. I can't believe the press will be fooled for long, as they'd know the sensors of Earth spacecraft are advanced enough to detect things like meteors and other navigational hazards from great distances.

And now the Romulan commandos will begin striking targets of opportunity and spreading mayhem. Starfleet is going to have to put them down and exercise media spin-control at the same time... after all, there can't be that many rogue meteors out there!

 

[pio1776]

Between the crash site and Helensburgh
Dunedin, Sirius A
1500 hours SST--Wednesday, 20 November 2154

She had discarded her fatigues, helmet and battle harness some time ago, and put on the loose fitting shirt, matching pants and a light grey hooded cloak that Vulcans preferred. The only thing the communications specialist kept, other than a dagger and pistol, were the boots. They were comfortable, and ideal for hiking. Somewhere up ahead was a roadway that connected Helensburgh with three other settlements, and the specialist calculated another three hours before making contact with the road.

Three hours walking with herself for company. If she were Vulcan, or one of those Terran buddhists that she learned about prior to her mission, than keeping one’s council shouldn’t be a problem. But she was neither, she was a Rhihannsu and a member of the Teth Koros. She frowned.

She was part of an elite, on par with whatever the Tal Shiar could muster.

And yet, for all she knew, she was the only member of the taskforce alive.

“Ain’t that something,” she muttered and caught herself upon realising she spoke in her native dialect, and quickly looked about. Not that there was anyone but her, and the specialist’s cheeks burned a slight greenish hue of embarrassment.

“Let us try that again,” she said once more, this time in the tongue of her cousins. “I am T’hai of T’khut, and am on a pilgrimage to explore logic via the interpretation of art.”

The communications specialist stopped and sniggered.

“Guess my time at the Academy will finally pay off,” she said, once more in Rhihansu and chuckled despite herself as she kept on walking.

 

[pio1776]

NINE


Shuttlepod Omaha
On final approach to Moana Rua Fleet Station
Dunedin, Sirius A
0845 hours SST--Thursday, 21 November 2154

Seated in the left seat, Furry barely noticed the first arced bastions of Moana Rua Fleet Station. He was too preoccupied with the padd in his hand. In the right seat next to him sat Bashir, who flew the ’pod adequately enough.
“Didn’t take you for a spook, Chief,” Vera said from between them, hands resting on the backs of the two headrests.

“Wasn’t always one, ma’am,” Bashir said in a soft and quiet voice.

“Oh, yeah.” Vera looked on. “Do tell?”

“I was a MACO,” Bashir said simply while Furry tuned the two out.

Still, at least he knew who Bashir was, even if it took some gauding on his part. Jamal Bashir, the medic Barb and the bushy bearded engineer were in fact members of an elite unit within Starfleet Intelligence, known as Rangers. Who they were and what they did was never known, but rumours hinted that they were used to help with pre-first contact operations and other clandestine activities. The fact that they were in Helensburgh was no coincidence as the Starfleet outpost there was part of a deep space sensor array.

Suddenly, Vera’s fingers snapped in front of his nose.

“Hey!” she snapped.

He looked up at her. “What?”

Vera smiled and nodded out the cockpit. “We’re here.”

“Oh,” said Furry as he followed her gaze.

 

[Gibraltar]

Whaaaaa? Perhaps the Romulans have had Earth under surveillance for longer than I expected!

And these Rangers sound like a pretty badass outfit. Surely the type of people you want around while hunting alien saboteurs.

 

[pio1776]

*
With padd in hand, Furry was the first to step off the ’pod and was met by a lieutenant.
“I’m to take you directly to the Admiral,” the attache announced.

The lieutenant commander merely nodded in response, and hurried after the fast moving officer. The two made their way into the building proper, and Furry noticed the increase in armed guards at every possible juncture he could see.

“By Presidential decree,” announced the lieutenant.

“The President authorised this?” asked Furry as they passed another guard.

“The Prime Minister has been on the comm since this morning,” the lieutenant stated matter of fact, and Furry raised an eyebrow of intrigue. Finally, they entered a set of offices. “We’re here.”

Furry blinked as he looked about the otherwise utilitarian office, only to jump when the lieutenant tapped him on the shoulder. “Might want to take that off, Commander,” the lieutenant gestured at the cap.

“Oh yeah,” replied Furry, blushing as he took the brown cap off and snuck it at the small of his back, just as Admiral Stellingatti walked in.

“At ease, Lieutenant Commander,” the admiral said in greeting and Furry did as ordered.


EPILOGUE


On final approach to Moana Rua Fleet Station
Dunedin, Sirius A
0850 hours--Thursday, 21 November 2154

“I’ve read your report, very thorough,” Stellingatti said next as he took a seat behind a desk, “and very unnerving to say the least. Have you read the other reports from Somfield Island and Tellar?”

Furry nodded.

“I’ve talked with their chief of police and instructed that the corpses they found be ready to transfer over to you.”

Furry blinked. “Me, sir?”

“As per General Order Twenty-six, I’m putting you in charge of hunting down the survivors of--whoever it was--that hit us,” said Stellingatti earnestly. “Commander, I do not need to tell you that the Sirius Binary is critical to Earth’s technological innovations, interstellar commerce, nor as a launching platform for further colonisation efforts into Sixty-one Ursae Majoris.”

Furry stared at the admiral, trying to recall General Order 26. When he did, Furry’s eyes went wide at the discretionary powers he had been given. The order simply stated that if a commanding officer deemed an individual or group as a clear and present danger, he had the necessary authority to neutralise the threat by any means necessary.

“As a result, I am promoting you to full Commander.”

Furry’s mouth dropped. “Commander?”

“Did you expect a slap on the wrist for your actions yesterday?” Stellingatti inquired, a little surprised with the response. Still, inwardly he was happy to see it. “I can do that, but I think you’ll be beating yourself up for the loss of Lieutenant Gamble and Master Chief Hackett regardless, so it’s punishment enough.”

Uncertain what to say to that, and not necessarily trusting himself in the process, Furry found himself merely nodding.

“Speaking of which, you’ll need a new first officer.”

“Ah . . . understood.”

Stellingatti looked up at him. “Recommendations?”

“Ah,” Furry’s mind was spinning as he blurted out, “Vera, sir--umm--Lieutenant Vera Hernandez, sir.”

“Hernandez, huh?”

Furry nodded.

“Any relations to Captain Erika Hernandez?” asked Stellingatti.

“Not that I know of, sir.”

“Not that it matters,” replied Stellingatti, and nodded. “Done, as well as bump up to Lieutenant Commander. I’ll forward you a list of candidates to replace her as CMO.”

Furry nodded. Besides, it was too late now.

“I’ll be assigning Lieutenant Marquette, Chief Bashir and his team to your command as well, in addition to ensure that the Olympus Mons will be up to its full complement of forty,” announced Stellingatti and frowned. “I know that General Schimpff may argue the case, considering MACOs serve on Enterprise, but this is too important.”

Furry only nodded, and glanced over to where the attache cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, Admiral,” the lieutenant interrupted, “but I think Commander Furry’s presence is required along the C-1.”
“Looks like duty calls, Commander.” Stellingatti grunted as he stood to offer his hand across the desk. “Good luck and Godspeed.”

The story continues in
Olympus Mons:
Cat and Mouse . . .
Coming in early 2017​

Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on this story.

 

[pio1776]

Whaaaaa? Perhaps the Romulans have had Earth under surveillance for longer than I expected!

And these Rangers sound like a pretty badass outfit. Surely the type of people you want around while hunting alien saboteurs.

If I were a conquering power, I'd like to know everything about my opponent. We'll learn more in "Cat and Mouse . . ."