Star Trek: Kongo
A Member of Tales of the Eleventh Fleet
“The Haunted Ground”
By Brydon J. Sinclair
Orbiting Cardassia Prime
He took a deep breath and then got to his feet. Lieutenant Commander Neal Redfield, Logistics Officer to the Eleventh Fleet, was used to attending and giving briefings but when faced with a whole new room of people he was always a little nervous, as he didn’t know how they would react. As the Fleet Logistics Officer, his role was to look after and organise all the nitty-gritty details of the Eleventh Fleets operations—though Commodore J’Nai was in command of the Fleet, it was her job to look at the big picture; it was his to see to the fine details.
Redfield took a moment and looked around the long table and the assortment of officers, non-coms and civilians who occupied the seats. Before beaming up, he had made sure to read up on the senior staff, so he wasn’t going in cold. He sat at one end of the table, directly opposite the oldest officer in attendance, Captain Makus Drii. The elderly Bolian was well known throughout the fleet, some of his tactics were required reading at the Academy, though often it were the mission logs that were far more interesting—mainly as some of them were so fantastic and unbelievable, they would put many holonovels to shame. Going down the left side of the table (from his own perspective) seated closest to Drii, on the Captain’s right, was Commander Kingsley Shan, the ship’s XO had retired from Starfleet several years ago to start a family—only to be drafted back in when the war began; next to him was Master Chief Petty Officer Roland Okonedo, the Chief Engineer, who had served for many years under Captain Drii, though was about twenty years younger than the Bolian; next was Doctor Ezekiel Fiske, a provisional Lieutenant who was one of many who had signed up for service to do their patriotic duty during the war; the last Starfleeter was Lieutenant JG Jerg galesh Targon, the ship’s Counsellor, linguist and xenologist, an oddity on a supply ship, but necessary as per Starfleet regulations; the last one seated, on Redfield’s immediate left, was their Cardassian Liaison Officer, Envoy Benal Akeer, who sat there with a sneer on his face and an air of self-importance. The opposite side of the table was also full, with Security Chief Lieutenant Fiona Starling seated on Drii’s left, scowling at Akeer—no doubt there was some shipboard issue that needed to be resolved; next to her was Lieutenant JG Constance de Souza, the ship’s Operations Manager, a former Lieutenant Commander who quit Starfleet, joined the Maquis and had been one of the lucky few to survive the Jem’Hadar eradication of the terrorist group, before being granted parole in return for her service; then there was Ensign Dayna Mazi, their Betazoid Flight Control Officer, who sat attentively and eagerly awaiting him to begin; the last member of the crew was the towering, hairy Chief Petty Officer Khaadarga, the ship’s Dopchee Supply Chief; the last chair, on Redfield’s right, was filled with the officer who had accompanied him from the Starfleet Field Office of Cardassia, Commander Torami, a teal-skinned Benzenite who was a salvage and recovery specialist with the Starfleet Corps of Engineers.
They all watched him for the few moments it had taken him to survey the table, then picked up the PADD he had brought with him. He linked it with the
Kongo’s LCARS system and transferred the briefing to the monitor behind him.
Clearing his throat, he began. “Minos Korva. Even before the war, the Cardassians had their eyes on it. But it was only with the weight of the Dominion behind them that they managed to take the system. From there they attacked and occupied Betazed and posed a threat to numerous other member worlds.”
He paused and let the information sink in, both for dramatic effect and to let them all remember the dark day that word spread about the fall of Betazed—he noted that Ensign Mazi looked at the tabletop for a moment, then towards Captain Drii, before returning her full attention back to him. He was surprised by her maturity and noted that Drii was keeping a grandfatherly eye on her.
He continued on with the briefing. “Intelligence showed that they planned to set up a supply depot in Minos Korva which, if they had managed to get it operational, would have strengthened that front and been a launching pad into the heart of the Federation. This led to the Minos Korva System being one of the most fought for systems of the entire war, more important that our strike at Chin’toka. As a result of this, it was also one of the most costly targets of the entire war. The Allied Forces lost almost six hundred ships over the eighteen months they held the system for, but their sacrifices kept the Dominion off balance so that they couldn’t complete their plans for Minos Korva.”
Pausing again, he knew that the losses of the war was a hard thing for everyone in Starfleet to come to terms with—even now, months later, people still grieved for lost family and friends, or for the sheer loss of life. He himself had lost two cousins and an aunt in the fighting, as well as more friends than he cared to think about, but now was not the time to dwell on the losses, but to try and rebuild and strengthen what they had managed to save.
“As I’m sure you are all well aware,” Redfield continued after several moments of silence, “Starfleet is running low on just about everything right now; ships, hull plating, equipment, hardware, supplies. We’re short on everything we need to keep the entirety of the fleet going. The problem is, all these things take time to construct, test and install, which has lead Starfleet to begin reclaiming some of what we lost at Minos Korva.”
“So we’re going to be playing vulture, sir?” Master Chief Okonedo asked matter-of-factly.
He looked at the senior non-com. “Yes,” he started simply, Redfield never believed in sugar-coating the facts. “Going by our last scans of the system, there is a considerable amount of salvageable material just drifting out there—all things that could be used to help construct, repair or refit countless ships.”
“What about the dead?” Doctor Fiske spoke up.
Everyone looked at the provisional officer, it was obviously a question they had all been thinking of—it was one the first he’d asked when the orders had come through. After a moment, everyone turned back to face Redfield.
“Unfortunately it is one of the systems where the bodies haven’t been recovered yet. Starfleet Command has stressed that this is not an assignment to recover them, but whatever usable technology can be salvaged—a medical ship will be assigned to retrieve them as soon as one is available.
“Now,” he quickly tried to refocus on their mission objectives, “I’ll turn over to Commander Torami, whose team will be leading the salvage op.” He looked down at the Benzenite. “Commander.”
“Thank you, Commander Redfield,” Torami began, focusing on the crew around the table. He took this as his cue to sit down. “My team and I are specialists for salvage and recovery operations from the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. Up until now, we’ve been helping out with some of the work that needs to be done on Cardassia—regions that were targeted by the Dominion, though lack humanoid remains,” her head tilted slightly towards Akeer and Redfield noticed a slight scowl on her forehead. “Due to religious beliefs, however, we haven’t been permitted to work in the more densely populated areas.”
Akeer didn’t reply, but rather turned his nose up and sneered at her. Everyone watched the exchange with baited breath, but when the Benzenite turned back to them, they relaxed a little.
“We’ve handled numerous operations like this during the Dominion War and also the brief Federation-Klingon War, but nothing on this scale with only one ship at our disposal—so this will be a lot of intense, hard work.”
“Well you’ve come to the right place, Commander,” Shan stated, which was met with nods and determined looks from the crew. Redfield couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie and confidence the crew displayed, even the deadpan Lieutenant de Souza.
“I never doubted that, Commander Shan,” Torami replied, a hint of mirth in her tone, “which was part of the reason we chose the
Kongo for this assignment, as well as the huge cargo capacity you have.
“Though since there is only one ship being used, we are going to need to split our resources to cover as much ground as possible,” she continued. “To this end, we have managed to secure two Danube-Class runabouts, with cargo modules, to help scour the debris and get into some of the tighter spots. The
Kongo is rated to carry three, but we could only get two. However this does mean we can retain all four shuttles, which can also increase our operational area.”
Drii leaned forward a little, his hands clasped on the tabletop. “Chief,” he looked at the Dopchee non-com, “this won’t cause any problems, will it?”
The enormous, hairy alien shook his shaggy head. “All our holds are empty, so we could easily carry both runabouts in the saucer bays.”
The Constitution-Class was originally designed with a single large hanger at the back of the drive section, but the refit the
Kongo had undergone to turn her into a supply ship had seen almost half the saucer section cleared and converted into cargo bays, including adding two space doors on either side of the impulse engines. These doors were the entire height of the saucers rim and equipped with the same forcefields used in shuttlebays, which made them more than suitable for holding a runabout each.
“Good to hear,” Drii told Khaadarga, then looked back at Torami. “Please continue, Commander.”
Torami bowed her bulbous head slightly towards the Captain. “I can’t really give you much in the way of specifics as each salvage op is different; we will only know how best to proceed once we get there and see the situation for ourselves. However, we won’t do anything to jeopardise the
Kongo or her crew—if something is unstable or too dangerous to get to, then we will leave it be. The last thing we want is to add to the debris at Minor Korva.”
“Commander,” Drii spoke up again, “how many are there on your team?”
“Ten, including myself—that’s not a problem is it?”
“Not at all,” Drii assured her. “The supply refit gives the
Kongo a maximum crew capacity of one hundred and eighty, so we’ve got a few free rooms. All of our sections and facilities will be made available to you and your team.”
“That is appreciated Captain. My team is ready with the runabouts, so as soon as we are done here they will be en route, then we can get underway.”
Drii nodded. “Agreed, Commander.” He then turned back to Redfield, who had watched the easy interaction between Torami and the crew quietly. “Is there anything else we need to know for this assignment, Lieutenant Commander?”
He shook his head. “Nothing more, Captain, other than just be careful out there.”
“Very well. Lee,” he said, looking at Shan, “escort Mr Redfield to the transporter room. Commander Torami, get your team onboard. I want all sections ready to depart by sixteen hundred. Any other business?” No one spoke up. “Very well, let’s get to work. Commander Redfield, thank you for your time.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
Drii gave him a small smile, then got to his feet, as did the rest of the assembled personnel and headed for one of the two exits, some chatting between themselves about what would need to be done before they shipped out. Torami was already on the comm and calling in her team on the two runabouts. Commander Shan was the only officer who approached Redfield, a friendly smile on him face. Redfield stood and picked up his PADD.
“If you’ll follow me, Lieutenant Commander,” he said, gesturing towards an exit.
Redfield followed the First Officer, ready to return to the Starfleet Field Office and address whatever pile of work had mounted in the hour he’d been away from his terminal, and leave the
Kongo and her crew to their task—safe in the knowledge that it would be done quickly and competently.
