ST: Gibraltar - Prophets and Loss
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Prophets and Loss - Chapter 13
Chapter 13
USS Gibraltar
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Sandhurst triggered his phaser before the Bajoran in his sights had fully materialized. As the man regained cohesion, the beam-in-progress caught him in his armored breastplate and launched him into the bridge’s safety railing with a loud crack of high-impact ceramic on metal.
From his crouched position behind his workstation’s chair, Plazzi directed a stun beam at another of the intruders, the discharge refracting harmlessly off the soldier’s armor. Another of the Bajorans leveled his rifle, sending a series of rapid energy pulses into the older scientist, who collapsed in a tangle of limbs beneath his console.
Phaser beams and disruptor bolts crisscrossed the bridge in a brief yet telling tempest of violence. The default setting for Starfleet phasers was low-yield stun. Most of the valiant crew who attempted to forestall the attack were given no opportunity to raise their power settings, and the few shots they managed to land on the enemy proved ineffective.
At Ops, Olivia Juneau fought with unexpected tenacity, blasting one of the attackers off his feet with a heavy-stun beam from her phaser while simultaneously tripping another of them with an unusual scissors leg-lock. Her efforts were for naught, however, as the intruder who’d eliminated Plazzi as a threat turned his disruptor on Juneau.
Sandhurst was felled by a grazing disruptor pulse to his shoulder, followed by a savage kick to his sternum by a heavily booted foot. He fell backwards, coming to rest in an awkward sitting position against the base of a console, his head lolling as he witnessed his crew being overwhelmed by this unexpected enemy. In less than thirty seconds, it was over.
Pell watched the attack unfold from within the containment field, helpless to assist her comrades. She called out, trying to order the computer to establish containment fields around the boarding party, but the ship stubbornly refused to acknowledge her commands from inside the barrier.
The Bajora-Tava moved quickly to secure the turbolifts and prevent additional personnel from reaching the bridge. As two scions spot-welded the lift doors with their rifles, the lead soldier took aim at the overhead emitter in the center of the ceiling. Increasing his disruptor to maximum, he blasted the device, causing the forcefield surrounding Pell to vanish. She resisted briefly, kicking at the first of the intruders to approach her, but her boot connected harmlessly with his armored thigh and the man cuffed her across the face with the back of a hand sheathed in a weighted tactical glove.
Picking up the female Starfleet officer in his arms, the Bajoran nodded to the team leader, who initiated the transport cycle for the entire team. Purple columns of energy enveloped them.
Struggling to rise, Sandhurst clutched at his aching chest as the responding security team in the turbo-car fought to force the welded doors open. Raising an outstretched hand towards the vanishing figure of Pell Ojana in the clutches of her erstwhile countrymen, Sandhurst added another name to the list of people he had sworn to recover from the events of this dark day.
*****
USS Sutherland
Starfleet Covert Monitoring Outpost Zed-74
5 Lightyears from the Federation/Alshain border
Captain Elizabeth Shelby’s desk wasn’t big enough for the job, so the tabletop in the Sutherland’s observation lounge was now littered with padds of various sizes. Unexpectedly, Shelby had been tapped by Command to lead the relief mission into the Briar Patch, in order to discover what had happened between Picard’s Task Force Peacekeeper and the Alshain Exarchate that had brought the two powers to the brink of war.
‘Either my stock’s gone up with the brass or they’re looking for a fall guy.’ She paused on the cusp of taking another swig of lukewarm coffee, frowned at the cup, and set it back on the table.
The door behind her swooshed open to admit her new first officer, Commander Sam Lavelle. Like her, Lavelle had also served with Picard aboard the Enterprise-D and both officers shared a deep affinity for the senior captain. Sam’s time under Jean-Luc’s command had come as a junior officer fresh from the academy. Lavelle had assumed the post of executive officer aboard Sutherland six months earlier, following the promotion and transfer of Christopher Hobson to his own commission, captain of the starship Perseus.
“The Azetbur and Djibouti have just dropped out of warp, Captain. Once the Gral arrives on station, we’ll be ready to depart.”
Rubbing the back of her neck absently to work out a stress-related kink, Shelby noted dourly, “Nine starships and four runabouts do not a fleet make.”
Lavelle smirked, moving to lean against the edge of the table, facing Shelby. “So what are we calling this little party?”
Shelby glanced up from the padd she was studying, “Task Force Fulcrum.”
Looking disappointed, Lavelle inquired, “They didn’t like my idea?”
Giving her exec a wry smile, Shelby replied, “No, Sam, strangely enough they passed on ‘Operation Rescue Frenchy.’”
He sighed, “No sense of adventure, those admirals.”
Shelby leaned back in her chair, stretching tiredly as she tossed the padd onto the table. “Oh, their sense of adventure is intact, believe me. The punch-line is that once we leave with the task force there’ll be no one left to defend this sector against Alshain reprisals.”
Raising an eyebrow, Lavelle looked surprised. “You think the Exarchate is that serious? A tussle with a handful of starships inside a concealing nebula is one thing. Charging across the border into Federation space is something else entirely. They’d have to know they couldn’t possibly win; they couldn’t ever hold on to any territory they managed to grab.”
Taking a deep breath, Shelby tried to will some of the angst from her weary body. “That wouldn’t be the point, Sam. Clobber a few Federation colonies and rattle a couple of member planets, and they’ll have more than made their point. For the Alshain, this is more about saving face than challenging the Federation. We did go mucking about in their business uninvited, you know.”
“You don’t think we had cause, Betts? Those bastards were butchering their neighbors and wiping the blood from their hands all over the Federation’s good name.” Lavelle moved to stand behind her, kneading her shoulders with practiced hands, eliciting an appreciative groan.
“Listen, Sammy,” she said, returning the nickname. “I’d have been delighted to watch the Alshain/Son’a war unfold on a tactical plot map with a bowl of popcorn at my side. I don’t believe Federation lives need to be expended to blunt their mutual animosity, however.”
“Hey,” Lavelle chided gently, “Captain Picard went in there to talk and to save lives. If someone started shooting, you can be certain he wasn’t the first one to pull the trigger.”
She reached up, placing her hand over one of his. “Tell that to the families of the dead, Sam.”
Taking her hand in his he gave it a little squeeze. “You’re worried about Denise, aren’t you?”
Shelby nodded slowly, “She’s right in the thick of it.”
The voice of Sito Jaxa, Sutherland’s newly appointed Chief Tactical officer, intruded upon their quiet moment. “Sito to Shelby. Intel’s got an update on the Alshain blockade forming up at the Nedric Strait, Captain.”
Tapping her compin, Shelby said, “Let’s have it, Jaxa.”
“Apparently, we’re expected and they’re laying out their finest dinner service for us.”
“Meaning?”
“A minefield, sir.”
*****
Planet Ba’ku
Dorian Mountains
Bajora-Tavan Attack Ship Drosov
Surgery of this sort would be difficult under ideal circumstances, but Issara Taiee’s present situation was anything but. The medical bay of the Bajora-Tavan attack ship was small and under equipped, and her counterpart from the ship’s crew was unfamiliar with anything other than Bajoran physiology.
Nevertheless, Taiee endeavored to treat Lar’ragos’ potentially terminal wounds, using every piece of equipment she could find in her medical kit, as well as a few of the less primitive looking instruments on the Bajoran’s surgical trays. Fortunately, this was not the first time she’d treated the El Aurian, a man whose body seemed a roadmap of old scars and injuries spanning multiple centuries.
With the Bajoran medic laboring as her assistant, Taiee set to work, her hands wrist deep in Lar’ragos’ innards as she fought to stem the bleeding that would kill him in minutes if not stopped.
*****
Just outside the medical bay, Ramirez coaxed a dizzy and irritable Brett Lightner to his feet, following a brief exam by the crew’s assistant medic. Touching the sizeable knot on the back of his head, Lightner groused, “Why is it I always get hit in the head?”
Ramirez gave the ensign a condescending smirk, “You’d rather they aim for something vital?” Turning to face Prylar-Captain Bral, Ramirez moved to the Bajora-Tavan leader’s side. “So, where do we go from here?”
Appearing uncomfortable with the idea, Bral nonetheless replied, “That is up to you, Commander. We are, after all, your prisoners.” Bral’s entire crew was arrayed in the corridor, stripped of their weapons by Ramirez’s reconstituted away team. She had to admit that she was not entirely comfortable allowing her people, who’d just been the Bajorans’ prisoners, to now be placed in charge of those very same captors. Ensign Shanthi, in particular, seemed a bit too pleased to be leveling a rifle at the Soldiers of Light. Ramirez hadn’t the time as yet to assess the psychological state of her people.
Sizing up the man across from her, Ramirez came to a difficult decision. Reluctant prisoners were of little use to her. If they were to survive this mission and return to Federation space intact, they’d need something more substantive.
Reaching in to her tactical vest to withdraw Bral’s sidearm, she turned the weapon around so that it was pointing at her and offered it back to the man. “Prisoners aren’t what I need, Prylar-Captain. Allies are. Will you stand with us to rescue the Ba’ku and Son’a from the Alshain?”
Bral eyed the weapon suspiciously, trying to divine the woman’s true intent. Was this a trap; would taking the disruptor constitute provocation for Ramirez to execute him and his crew? Everything he had learned of these people through his observation and interrogations of their landing party led him to believe that their intentions were not only honorable, but their goals were especially compatible with his own.
The prylar-captain began to extend his hand, only to have it stayed by a sharp cry of, “No!” Bral’s head whipped around to find Kuenre Shanthi, the young Starfleet ensign, aiming a Bajoran rifle at Bral’s head.
“Ensign, stand down!” Ramirez ordered, a sense of dread knifing into her gut.
“No, Commander!” Shanthi’s eyes were open wide, and filled with a mix of fear and righteous anger. “You can’t ally us with these people. You don’t know what he did to us… to me!”
Ramirez turned to scrutinize the Bajora-Tavan, “What’s he talking about, Prylar-Captain?” The commander shifted her gaze slightly to the left, making brief eye contact with Saihra Dunleavy, punctuating the gesture with a barely perceptible nod.
For his part, Bral met Ramirez’s eyes unflinchingly. “To determine your origin and intentions, I interrogated five members of your crew utilizing the Most Holy Hand of the Prophets, an apportioned shard of the Celestial Orb of Transcendence.”
Her features tightening with controlled rage, Ramirez whispered dangerously, “I’m not familiar with that technique. Would you care to explain?”
Bral elaborated without a hint of shame. “The Orb gave me access to their thoughts, their innermost hopes and fears. Through them I was able to determine that your people were indeed not a threat to the Bajora-Tava or our goals. It had been my intention to release your crew, and I would have done so had your attack on my ship not intervened.”
On the verge of chastising Bral for his actions, Ramirez suddenly remembered the isolinear chip she carried in the pocket of her tactical vest. The chip contained the location of the young man Lar’ragos had visited agonies upon to learn the purpose and whereabouts of the Bajorans. She sighed inwardly, ‘Both sides have suffered at the hands of one another. Both are equally guilty of committing sentient rights violations.’
Ramirez looked again to Shanthi. “I’m sorry for what you were forced to endure, Ensign. This isn’t the academy anymore, this is the real universe. Out here, no matter how hard we try to avoid it, people get hurt. This time it was you.” She kept her eyes focused on Shanthi as Dunleavy slowly brought her phaser up, muting the weapon’s interface and setting it for stun.
“However,” the exec continued, “I am not willing to throw away a chance at peace with these people because of what happened to you.” She fixed his agonized gaze with her own, which radiated strength and assuredness. “I’ll see to it that you get whatever help you need to get past this, Kuenre, but if you don’t drop that weapon I can’t help you.”
Dunleavy leveled her phaser at the ensign’s back, prepared to fire if the young man sought to continue the cycle of violence. Fortunately, the weapon fell from his grasp as his face crumbled, and he turned and bolted out the airlock hatch to the outside, Dunleavy hot on his heels at Ramirez’s urging.
Turning back to Bral, Ramirez frowned. “I won’t apologize for the ensign’s actions, Prylar-Captain. You brought this on yourself.” She stopped his reply with the upheld iso-chip. “If we are to cement this alliance, you should know that we have behaved no better. You and I need to go and collect one of your men.”
*****
Alshain Heavy Cruiser Venska
Running cloaked within the Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Captain Yejokk of Qo'noS spoke softly, a tone with which he was unaccustomed, most especially when aboard a ship preparing for battle. “Is this wise?”
The deep braying of Alshain alert klaxons drown out the Klingon’s words to all but their intended recipient, Sutahr R’Voss. The lupanoid shipmaster looked askance at his guest, “A Klingon is asking me if attack is the proper course of action? Two of our enemies lay prostrate before us, their ships helpless and without power. Their one-time allies, the same Bajoran mercenaries who attacked and wrecked the battlecruiser of my cousin R’Vor, also sit before us, completely unaware of our presence.” The sutahr’s disbelieve radiated clearly, even through his non-humanoid features. “If I attack now, I will slay Son’a, Federation, and Bajoran alike. Normally, I would need a squadron of ships to achieve such a marked victory, but today I can accomplish the same feat with but one vessel.”
Yejokk, ever the swordsman, parried the Alshain’s verbal thrust easily. “You have collected valuable intelligence on your enemies this day, Sutahr. As you say, they are unaware of your presence. They are also unaware that the Alshain possess a cloaked warship. Should just one of those Bajoran ships escape following our attack, Klingon complicity in this endeavor will be evident. Like you, the warrior in me screams to attack, but the soldier in me urges caution.”
R’Voss snarled, “Is your people’s empire the result of your caution, or your daring?”
Refusing to be baited, Yejokk replied evenly, “An empire over ten times the size of the Exarchate, Sutahr. An empire that took the Klach D'Kel Brakt from your people in battle when your Starforce outnumbered our early navies three-to-one. The warriors of Qo’noS know well the difference between daring and recklessness.” To underscore his point, Yejokk quoted an aphorism once uttered by Kahless himself, “Only a fool sacrifices the chance to win a war for the opportunity to claim victory in but a single battle.”
His eyes narrowing and his ears pinned back in annoyance, R’Voss grumbled, “You have had your say, Klingon. Your words are well spoken, but I choose to taste victory in the here and now.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Yejokk made peace with that fact, noting, “Unsheathe your blade and let the contest begin. Qapla'!”
Seating himself in his command chair, R’Voss ordered, “Ready disruptors and exciser cannons, standby swarm-missiles and torpedoes. Prepare to drop the cloaking field.”
*****
USS Enterprise
Federation Task Force Peacekeeper
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
The sneak attack on the Alshain supply convoy had been a success, netting four warships destroyed along with eight cargo carriers heavily laden with war materiel. More troubling was the inexplicable disappearance of the starship Zhukov, which had been assigned to scout for Alshain reconnaissance units moving in advance of the convoy.
Picard had divided the remaining starships into groups of three, dispatching them on overlapping search patterns in an effort to locate the wayward vessel.
N’Saba had been busy studying some irregularities he’d discovered in the manifests of the stricken Alshain cargo ships. The science officer had identified a substantial number of previously unknown components of Alshain manufacture that did not appear to be related to that species’ known technology. Loath as he was to admit it, N’Saba would require assistance to solve this mystery. He could let it go, of course, simply not mention this irregularity to his superiors in order to avoid having to confess his ignorance. But whatever else Seb N’Saba was, he was a Starfleet officer. The same Alshain genetics and upbringing that often made him insufferably haughty also instilled in him a sense of duty to his cohort, his Sept, his crew.
Turning in his seat, N’Saba addressed Data at Ops. “Commander, may I have a moment’s consultation with you?”
Data stood from his workstation and approached, leaning in to examine the lupanoid officer’s console. “How may I be of assistance, Mr. N’Saba?”
N’Saba quickly outlined his conundrum, not sure if the android would dismiss his concerns out of hand. He still had little experience with this particular ship and crew, and as close-knit as they appeared, he’d feared he would not be accepted as anything but an interloper for the duration of this assignment. To his surprise, however, Data immediately understood the nature of the science officer’s apprehension.
Taking a seat at the auxiliary station beside the Sciences console, Data set about scanning through a series of technical schematics with such speed that N’Saba had to briefly look away from the display. “Computer,” Data instructed, “Display technological artifact D723-44N and graphically separate into individual components.” The computer completed the requested function, and a spherical object on the screen divided into pieces. Data then rotated the highlighted segment until it matched the configuration of the component N’Saba had detected aboard the Alshain cargo ships.
The android’s brow furrowed with worry lines, “I have identified the device in question, Commander N’Saba. Having done so, I am now experiencing the unique emotional state of wishing I had not.”
Seb frowned, his ears twitching with restrained curiosity.
“Captain Picard,” Data spoke into his combadge, “Your presence is requested on the bridge.”
*****
They found her six hours later, adrift in an eddy of nebular gases, surrounded by the asteroidal debris of a long-ago shattered moon. It appeared that the Zhukov had fled here, presumably trying to hide from pursuers. The scorch marks on her superstructure attested to a fight, but there were no hull breaches, no internal damage to explain the absence of life signs aboard.
A more detailed analysis showed much higher radiation levels than normal on the Ambassador-class vessel. The ship’s structure had absorbed a mega-dose of radiation from an unknown source, killing all aboard. It took the senior staff of the Enterprise only a few minutes to piece together the puzzle.
The fully assembled devices, whose components N’Saba had scanned aboard the Alshain cargo ships, were littered throughout the planetary rubble in this quiet corner of the Briar Patch. The acetone assimilators hidden among the asteroids had drained the Zhukov’s power and used the ship’s own energy to bombard the vessel with fatal amounts of radiation. Data estimated the ship’s already depleted shields had held out for a little over an hour before falling to the assimilators’ onslaught. Lethal exposure occurred within minutes.
Picard stood, staring at the sight of the dead ship on the viewer. Turning to examine the tall, lupine science officer, he held tight the reigns of his emotional control as he asked, “How is this possible, Commander? Prior to today, only a single space vessel in the last thousand years has fallen victim to this Menthar tactic… mine.”
N’Saba was calm, despite the inflammatory nature of the accusation. “If you are implying, sir, that I leaked information regarding this kind of booby trap to the Alshain Starforce, that is not the case.”
Riker rose to his feet, fists clenched, and moved to stand beside Picard. “Then explain this, Mr. N’Saba.”
Seb looked at both men in near disbelief. “I’m rather shocked that you don’t know, sirs. The Alshain Exarchate fought three separate conflicts with the Menthar Ascendancy over a span of four centuries. Dozens of Starforce vessels were lost to similar circumstances during that period.” The scientist rose to his full, formidable height, his countenance proud and defiant. “But if it is easier to blame me for the results of your hubris, so be it.”
A glowering Riker moved toward N’Saba, but was stopped by a firm hand from Picard on his arm. “Mr. Data, can you verify this historical account?”
After a brief pause as Data accessed his neural net, the android replied, “I can, sir. Millennia before mutually annihilating both themselves and the Promellians at Orelius IX, the Menthars did in fact engage the Exarchate in a number of prolonged territorial conflicts, Captain. It is quite possible the Alshain learned this tactic from their experiences with the Menthars.”
Picard’s jaw worked furiously, “You have my sincerest apologies, Commander. It was inappropriate for me to have jumped to an unwarranted conclusion.” Abruptly turning to look at Data, the captain inquired, “Our encounter with these devices and our escape technique were on file in Zhukov’s database. Why didn’t they simply duplicate our maneuver?”
Data consulted his readouts. “The design of the trap has been modified with the addition of tractor field emitters, sir. It appears the Zhukov was forcibly held in place to prevent escape using the ship’s maneuvering thrusters.”
Setting his shoulders, Picard drank in the image of the stricken starship, committing every line and curve of the vessel to memory, and issuing a silent prayer in honor of the over six-hundred dead contained within her hull. “May I assume that there is no viable way of salvaging her?”
“No, sir,” Data replied, sounding suitably regretful. “Any vessel entering the assimilators’ perimeter would suffer an identical fate.”
“Very well,” Picard replied. “Arm photon torpedoes, and lock target on the Zhukov.” The captain moved to the Tactical station, gesturing for the lieutenant manning the console to step aside. “This is my responsibility.” Pausing before launching the missiles towards their sister ship, Picard inclined his head towards Riker. “Once we’ve finished here, set course for the Ba’ku system, Commander. Gibraltar is overdue.”
*****
Chapter 13
USS Gibraltar
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Sandhurst triggered his phaser before the Bajoran in his sights had fully materialized. As the man regained cohesion, the beam-in-progress caught him in his armored breastplate and launched him into the bridge’s safety railing with a loud crack of high-impact ceramic on metal.
From his crouched position behind his workstation’s chair, Plazzi directed a stun beam at another of the intruders, the discharge refracting harmlessly off the soldier’s armor. Another of the Bajorans leveled his rifle, sending a series of rapid energy pulses into the older scientist, who collapsed in a tangle of limbs beneath his console.
Phaser beams and disruptor bolts crisscrossed the bridge in a brief yet telling tempest of violence. The default setting for Starfleet phasers was low-yield stun. Most of the valiant crew who attempted to forestall the attack were given no opportunity to raise their power settings, and the few shots they managed to land on the enemy proved ineffective.
At Ops, Olivia Juneau fought with unexpected tenacity, blasting one of the attackers off his feet with a heavy-stun beam from her phaser while simultaneously tripping another of them with an unusual scissors leg-lock. Her efforts were for naught, however, as the intruder who’d eliminated Plazzi as a threat turned his disruptor on Juneau.
Sandhurst was felled by a grazing disruptor pulse to his shoulder, followed by a savage kick to his sternum by a heavily booted foot. He fell backwards, coming to rest in an awkward sitting position against the base of a console, his head lolling as he witnessed his crew being overwhelmed by this unexpected enemy. In less than thirty seconds, it was over.
Pell watched the attack unfold from within the containment field, helpless to assist her comrades. She called out, trying to order the computer to establish containment fields around the boarding party, but the ship stubbornly refused to acknowledge her commands from inside the barrier.
The Bajora-Tava moved quickly to secure the turbolifts and prevent additional personnel from reaching the bridge. As two scions spot-welded the lift doors with their rifles, the lead soldier took aim at the overhead emitter in the center of the ceiling. Increasing his disruptor to maximum, he blasted the device, causing the forcefield surrounding Pell to vanish. She resisted briefly, kicking at the first of the intruders to approach her, but her boot connected harmlessly with his armored thigh and the man cuffed her across the face with the back of a hand sheathed in a weighted tactical glove.
Picking up the female Starfleet officer in his arms, the Bajoran nodded to the team leader, who initiated the transport cycle for the entire team. Purple columns of energy enveloped them.
Struggling to rise, Sandhurst clutched at his aching chest as the responding security team in the turbo-car fought to force the welded doors open. Raising an outstretched hand towards the vanishing figure of Pell Ojana in the clutches of her erstwhile countrymen, Sandhurst added another name to the list of people he had sworn to recover from the events of this dark day.
*****
USS Sutherland
Starfleet Covert Monitoring Outpost Zed-74
5 Lightyears from the Federation/Alshain border
Captain Elizabeth Shelby’s desk wasn’t big enough for the job, so the tabletop in the Sutherland’s observation lounge was now littered with padds of various sizes. Unexpectedly, Shelby had been tapped by Command to lead the relief mission into the Briar Patch, in order to discover what had happened between Picard’s Task Force Peacekeeper and the Alshain Exarchate that had brought the two powers to the brink of war.
‘Either my stock’s gone up with the brass or they’re looking for a fall guy.’ She paused on the cusp of taking another swig of lukewarm coffee, frowned at the cup, and set it back on the table.
The door behind her swooshed open to admit her new first officer, Commander Sam Lavelle. Like her, Lavelle had also served with Picard aboard the Enterprise-D and both officers shared a deep affinity for the senior captain. Sam’s time under Jean-Luc’s command had come as a junior officer fresh from the academy. Lavelle had assumed the post of executive officer aboard Sutherland six months earlier, following the promotion and transfer of Christopher Hobson to his own commission, captain of the starship Perseus.
“The Azetbur and Djibouti have just dropped out of warp, Captain. Once the Gral arrives on station, we’ll be ready to depart.”
Rubbing the back of her neck absently to work out a stress-related kink, Shelby noted dourly, “Nine starships and four runabouts do not a fleet make.”
Lavelle smirked, moving to lean against the edge of the table, facing Shelby. “So what are we calling this little party?”
Shelby glanced up from the padd she was studying, “Task Force Fulcrum.”
Looking disappointed, Lavelle inquired, “They didn’t like my idea?”
Giving her exec a wry smile, Shelby replied, “No, Sam, strangely enough they passed on ‘Operation Rescue Frenchy.’”
He sighed, “No sense of adventure, those admirals.”
Shelby leaned back in her chair, stretching tiredly as she tossed the padd onto the table. “Oh, their sense of adventure is intact, believe me. The punch-line is that once we leave with the task force there’ll be no one left to defend this sector against Alshain reprisals.”
Raising an eyebrow, Lavelle looked surprised. “You think the Exarchate is that serious? A tussle with a handful of starships inside a concealing nebula is one thing. Charging across the border into Federation space is something else entirely. They’d have to know they couldn’t possibly win; they couldn’t ever hold on to any territory they managed to grab.”
Taking a deep breath, Shelby tried to will some of the angst from her weary body. “That wouldn’t be the point, Sam. Clobber a few Federation colonies and rattle a couple of member planets, and they’ll have more than made their point. For the Alshain, this is more about saving face than challenging the Federation. We did go mucking about in their business uninvited, you know.”
“You don’t think we had cause, Betts? Those bastards were butchering their neighbors and wiping the blood from their hands all over the Federation’s good name.” Lavelle moved to stand behind her, kneading her shoulders with practiced hands, eliciting an appreciative groan.
“Listen, Sammy,” she said, returning the nickname. “I’d have been delighted to watch the Alshain/Son’a war unfold on a tactical plot map with a bowl of popcorn at my side. I don’t believe Federation lives need to be expended to blunt their mutual animosity, however.”
“Hey,” Lavelle chided gently, “Captain Picard went in there to talk and to save lives. If someone started shooting, you can be certain he wasn’t the first one to pull the trigger.”
She reached up, placing her hand over one of his. “Tell that to the families of the dead, Sam.”
Taking her hand in his he gave it a little squeeze. “You’re worried about Denise, aren’t you?”
Shelby nodded slowly, “She’s right in the thick of it.”
The voice of Sito Jaxa, Sutherland’s newly appointed Chief Tactical officer, intruded upon their quiet moment. “Sito to Shelby. Intel’s got an update on the Alshain blockade forming up at the Nedric Strait, Captain.”
Tapping her compin, Shelby said, “Let’s have it, Jaxa.”
“Apparently, we’re expected and they’re laying out their finest dinner service for us.”
“Meaning?”
“A minefield, sir.”
*****
Planet Ba’ku
Dorian Mountains
Bajora-Tavan Attack Ship Drosov
Surgery of this sort would be difficult under ideal circumstances, but Issara Taiee’s present situation was anything but. The medical bay of the Bajora-Tavan attack ship was small and under equipped, and her counterpart from the ship’s crew was unfamiliar with anything other than Bajoran physiology.
Nevertheless, Taiee endeavored to treat Lar’ragos’ potentially terminal wounds, using every piece of equipment she could find in her medical kit, as well as a few of the less primitive looking instruments on the Bajoran’s surgical trays. Fortunately, this was not the first time she’d treated the El Aurian, a man whose body seemed a roadmap of old scars and injuries spanning multiple centuries.
With the Bajoran medic laboring as her assistant, Taiee set to work, her hands wrist deep in Lar’ragos’ innards as she fought to stem the bleeding that would kill him in minutes if not stopped.
*****
Just outside the medical bay, Ramirez coaxed a dizzy and irritable Brett Lightner to his feet, following a brief exam by the crew’s assistant medic. Touching the sizeable knot on the back of his head, Lightner groused, “Why is it I always get hit in the head?”
Ramirez gave the ensign a condescending smirk, “You’d rather they aim for something vital?” Turning to face Prylar-Captain Bral, Ramirez moved to the Bajora-Tavan leader’s side. “So, where do we go from here?”
Appearing uncomfortable with the idea, Bral nonetheless replied, “That is up to you, Commander. We are, after all, your prisoners.” Bral’s entire crew was arrayed in the corridor, stripped of their weapons by Ramirez’s reconstituted away team. She had to admit that she was not entirely comfortable allowing her people, who’d just been the Bajorans’ prisoners, to now be placed in charge of those very same captors. Ensign Shanthi, in particular, seemed a bit too pleased to be leveling a rifle at the Soldiers of Light. Ramirez hadn’t the time as yet to assess the psychological state of her people.
Sizing up the man across from her, Ramirez came to a difficult decision. Reluctant prisoners were of little use to her. If they were to survive this mission and return to Federation space intact, they’d need something more substantive.
Reaching in to her tactical vest to withdraw Bral’s sidearm, she turned the weapon around so that it was pointing at her and offered it back to the man. “Prisoners aren’t what I need, Prylar-Captain. Allies are. Will you stand with us to rescue the Ba’ku and Son’a from the Alshain?”
Bral eyed the weapon suspiciously, trying to divine the woman’s true intent. Was this a trap; would taking the disruptor constitute provocation for Ramirez to execute him and his crew? Everything he had learned of these people through his observation and interrogations of their landing party led him to believe that their intentions were not only honorable, but their goals were especially compatible with his own.
The prylar-captain began to extend his hand, only to have it stayed by a sharp cry of, “No!” Bral’s head whipped around to find Kuenre Shanthi, the young Starfleet ensign, aiming a Bajoran rifle at Bral’s head.
“Ensign, stand down!” Ramirez ordered, a sense of dread knifing into her gut.
“No, Commander!” Shanthi’s eyes were open wide, and filled with a mix of fear and righteous anger. “You can’t ally us with these people. You don’t know what he did to us… to me!”
Ramirez turned to scrutinize the Bajora-Tavan, “What’s he talking about, Prylar-Captain?” The commander shifted her gaze slightly to the left, making brief eye contact with Saihra Dunleavy, punctuating the gesture with a barely perceptible nod.
For his part, Bral met Ramirez’s eyes unflinchingly. “To determine your origin and intentions, I interrogated five members of your crew utilizing the Most Holy Hand of the Prophets, an apportioned shard of the Celestial Orb of Transcendence.”
Her features tightening with controlled rage, Ramirez whispered dangerously, “I’m not familiar with that technique. Would you care to explain?”
Bral elaborated without a hint of shame. “The Orb gave me access to their thoughts, their innermost hopes and fears. Through them I was able to determine that your people were indeed not a threat to the Bajora-Tava or our goals. It had been my intention to release your crew, and I would have done so had your attack on my ship not intervened.”
On the verge of chastising Bral for his actions, Ramirez suddenly remembered the isolinear chip she carried in the pocket of her tactical vest. The chip contained the location of the young man Lar’ragos had visited agonies upon to learn the purpose and whereabouts of the Bajorans. She sighed inwardly, ‘Both sides have suffered at the hands of one another. Both are equally guilty of committing sentient rights violations.’
Ramirez looked again to Shanthi. “I’m sorry for what you were forced to endure, Ensign. This isn’t the academy anymore, this is the real universe. Out here, no matter how hard we try to avoid it, people get hurt. This time it was you.” She kept her eyes focused on Shanthi as Dunleavy slowly brought her phaser up, muting the weapon’s interface and setting it for stun.
“However,” the exec continued, “I am not willing to throw away a chance at peace with these people because of what happened to you.” She fixed his agonized gaze with her own, which radiated strength and assuredness. “I’ll see to it that you get whatever help you need to get past this, Kuenre, but if you don’t drop that weapon I can’t help you.”
Dunleavy leveled her phaser at the ensign’s back, prepared to fire if the young man sought to continue the cycle of violence. Fortunately, the weapon fell from his grasp as his face crumbled, and he turned and bolted out the airlock hatch to the outside, Dunleavy hot on his heels at Ramirez’s urging.
Turning back to Bral, Ramirez frowned. “I won’t apologize for the ensign’s actions, Prylar-Captain. You brought this on yourself.” She stopped his reply with the upheld iso-chip. “If we are to cement this alliance, you should know that we have behaved no better. You and I need to go and collect one of your men.”
*****
Alshain Heavy Cruiser Venska
Running cloaked within the Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Captain Yejokk of Qo'noS spoke softly, a tone with which he was unaccustomed, most especially when aboard a ship preparing for battle. “Is this wise?”
The deep braying of Alshain alert klaxons drown out the Klingon’s words to all but their intended recipient, Sutahr R’Voss. The lupanoid shipmaster looked askance at his guest, “A Klingon is asking me if attack is the proper course of action? Two of our enemies lay prostrate before us, their ships helpless and without power. Their one-time allies, the same Bajoran mercenaries who attacked and wrecked the battlecruiser of my cousin R’Vor, also sit before us, completely unaware of our presence.” The sutahr’s disbelieve radiated clearly, even through his non-humanoid features. “If I attack now, I will slay Son’a, Federation, and Bajoran alike. Normally, I would need a squadron of ships to achieve such a marked victory, but today I can accomplish the same feat with but one vessel.”
Yejokk, ever the swordsman, parried the Alshain’s verbal thrust easily. “You have collected valuable intelligence on your enemies this day, Sutahr. As you say, they are unaware of your presence. They are also unaware that the Alshain possess a cloaked warship. Should just one of those Bajoran ships escape following our attack, Klingon complicity in this endeavor will be evident. Like you, the warrior in me screams to attack, but the soldier in me urges caution.”
R’Voss snarled, “Is your people’s empire the result of your caution, or your daring?”
Refusing to be baited, Yejokk replied evenly, “An empire over ten times the size of the Exarchate, Sutahr. An empire that took the Klach D'Kel Brakt from your people in battle when your Starforce outnumbered our early navies three-to-one. The warriors of Qo’noS know well the difference between daring and recklessness.” To underscore his point, Yejokk quoted an aphorism once uttered by Kahless himself, “Only a fool sacrifices the chance to win a war for the opportunity to claim victory in but a single battle.”
His eyes narrowing and his ears pinned back in annoyance, R’Voss grumbled, “You have had your say, Klingon. Your words are well spoken, but I choose to taste victory in the here and now.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Yejokk made peace with that fact, noting, “Unsheathe your blade and let the contest begin. Qapla'!”
Seating himself in his command chair, R’Voss ordered, “Ready disruptors and exciser cannons, standby swarm-missiles and torpedoes. Prepare to drop the cloaking field.”
*****
USS Enterprise
Federation Task Force Peacekeeper
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
The sneak attack on the Alshain supply convoy had been a success, netting four warships destroyed along with eight cargo carriers heavily laden with war materiel. More troubling was the inexplicable disappearance of the starship Zhukov, which had been assigned to scout for Alshain reconnaissance units moving in advance of the convoy.
Picard had divided the remaining starships into groups of three, dispatching them on overlapping search patterns in an effort to locate the wayward vessel.
N’Saba had been busy studying some irregularities he’d discovered in the manifests of the stricken Alshain cargo ships. The science officer had identified a substantial number of previously unknown components of Alshain manufacture that did not appear to be related to that species’ known technology. Loath as he was to admit it, N’Saba would require assistance to solve this mystery. He could let it go, of course, simply not mention this irregularity to his superiors in order to avoid having to confess his ignorance. But whatever else Seb N’Saba was, he was a Starfleet officer. The same Alshain genetics and upbringing that often made him insufferably haughty also instilled in him a sense of duty to his cohort, his Sept, his crew.
Turning in his seat, N’Saba addressed Data at Ops. “Commander, may I have a moment’s consultation with you?”
Data stood from his workstation and approached, leaning in to examine the lupanoid officer’s console. “How may I be of assistance, Mr. N’Saba?”
N’Saba quickly outlined his conundrum, not sure if the android would dismiss his concerns out of hand. He still had little experience with this particular ship and crew, and as close-knit as they appeared, he’d feared he would not be accepted as anything but an interloper for the duration of this assignment. To his surprise, however, Data immediately understood the nature of the science officer’s apprehension.
Taking a seat at the auxiliary station beside the Sciences console, Data set about scanning through a series of technical schematics with such speed that N’Saba had to briefly look away from the display. “Computer,” Data instructed, “Display technological artifact D723-44N and graphically separate into individual components.” The computer completed the requested function, and a spherical object on the screen divided into pieces. Data then rotated the highlighted segment until it matched the configuration of the component N’Saba had detected aboard the Alshain cargo ships.
The android’s brow furrowed with worry lines, “I have identified the device in question, Commander N’Saba. Having done so, I am now experiencing the unique emotional state of wishing I had not.”
Seb frowned, his ears twitching with restrained curiosity.
“Captain Picard,” Data spoke into his combadge, “Your presence is requested on the bridge.”
*****
They found her six hours later, adrift in an eddy of nebular gases, surrounded by the asteroidal debris of a long-ago shattered moon. It appeared that the Zhukov had fled here, presumably trying to hide from pursuers. The scorch marks on her superstructure attested to a fight, but there were no hull breaches, no internal damage to explain the absence of life signs aboard.
A more detailed analysis showed much higher radiation levels than normal on the Ambassador-class vessel. The ship’s structure had absorbed a mega-dose of radiation from an unknown source, killing all aboard. It took the senior staff of the Enterprise only a few minutes to piece together the puzzle.
The fully assembled devices, whose components N’Saba had scanned aboard the Alshain cargo ships, were littered throughout the planetary rubble in this quiet corner of the Briar Patch. The acetone assimilators hidden among the asteroids had drained the Zhukov’s power and used the ship’s own energy to bombard the vessel with fatal amounts of radiation. Data estimated the ship’s already depleted shields had held out for a little over an hour before falling to the assimilators’ onslaught. Lethal exposure occurred within minutes.
Picard stood, staring at the sight of the dead ship on the viewer. Turning to examine the tall, lupine science officer, he held tight the reigns of his emotional control as he asked, “How is this possible, Commander? Prior to today, only a single space vessel in the last thousand years has fallen victim to this Menthar tactic… mine.”
N’Saba was calm, despite the inflammatory nature of the accusation. “If you are implying, sir, that I leaked information regarding this kind of booby trap to the Alshain Starforce, that is not the case.”
Riker rose to his feet, fists clenched, and moved to stand beside Picard. “Then explain this, Mr. N’Saba.”
Seb looked at both men in near disbelief. “I’m rather shocked that you don’t know, sirs. The Alshain Exarchate fought three separate conflicts with the Menthar Ascendancy over a span of four centuries. Dozens of Starforce vessels were lost to similar circumstances during that period.” The scientist rose to his full, formidable height, his countenance proud and defiant. “But if it is easier to blame me for the results of your hubris, so be it.”
A glowering Riker moved toward N’Saba, but was stopped by a firm hand from Picard on his arm. “Mr. Data, can you verify this historical account?”
After a brief pause as Data accessed his neural net, the android replied, “I can, sir. Millennia before mutually annihilating both themselves and the Promellians at Orelius IX, the Menthars did in fact engage the Exarchate in a number of prolonged territorial conflicts, Captain. It is quite possible the Alshain learned this tactic from their experiences with the Menthars.”
Picard’s jaw worked furiously, “You have my sincerest apologies, Commander. It was inappropriate for me to have jumped to an unwarranted conclusion.” Abruptly turning to look at Data, the captain inquired, “Our encounter with these devices and our escape technique were on file in Zhukov’s database. Why didn’t they simply duplicate our maneuver?”
Data consulted his readouts. “The design of the trap has been modified with the addition of tractor field emitters, sir. It appears the Zhukov was forcibly held in place to prevent escape using the ship’s maneuvering thrusters.”
Setting his shoulders, Picard drank in the image of the stricken starship, committing every line and curve of the vessel to memory, and issuing a silent prayer in honor of the over six-hundred dead contained within her hull. “May I assume that there is no viable way of salvaging her?”
“No, sir,” Data replied, sounding suitably regretful. “Any vessel entering the assimilators’ perimeter would suffer an identical fate.”
“Very well,” Picard replied. “Arm photon torpedoes, and lock target on the Zhukov.” The captain moved to the Tactical station, gesturing for the lieutenant manning the console to step aside. “This is my responsibility.” Pausing before launching the missiles towards their sister ship, Picard inclined his head towards Riker. “Once we’ve finished here, set course for the Ba’ku system, Commander. Gibraltar is overdue.”
*****
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 13
Nicely done. It's most definitely hitting the fan now. You're doing a good job transitioning scenes and keeping the pace flowing--no easy task. You also did a good job with Shelby and Lavelle keeping them in character. Mistakes are being made by all parties in this affair--I have a feeling the scars from this are going to be a long time healing.
Nicely done. It's most definitely hitting the fan now. You're doing a good job transitioning scenes and keeping the pace flowing--no easy task. You also did a good job with Shelby and Lavelle keeping them in character. Mistakes are being made by all parties in this affair--I have a feeling the scars from this are going to be a long time healing.
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 13
The Bajora-Tavan remain one of my favorite elements of this adventure and I can't wait for them to team-up with Ramirez / and see what happens when they come face-to-face with Pell.
I continue to worry that you present the Next Generation crew rather unfavorable with N'Saba, the outsider continously winning moral victories. I am not trying to play the company guy who is watching out for the intersts of canon properties, I just think that it be a shame to use the characters we have grown to love (Admiral2 excluded) in order to make the orignal characters looks smarter/wiser/better. I don't think you have gone down that route yet but I think you're getting very close.
While I really enjoyed seeing cameos from other series here (It's always cool if you recognize somebody you know) I'm also concerned at the same time about cameos just for cameos sake which only make an already intricate story longer.
I thought the inclusion of the cloaked Ashlain ship was a stroke of genious ever since it first appeared. Now can everyone finally unite against the common enemy? And what will happen to our Son'a friends and foes? The tension is still killing me ...
The Bajora-Tavan remain one of my favorite elements of this adventure and I can't wait for them to team-up with Ramirez / and see what happens when they come face-to-face with Pell.
I continue to worry that you present the Next Generation crew rather unfavorable with N'Saba, the outsider continously winning moral victories. I am not trying to play the company guy who is watching out for the intersts of canon properties, I just think that it be a shame to use the characters we have grown to love (Admiral2 excluded) in order to make the orignal characters looks smarter/wiser/better. I don't think you have gone down that route yet but I think you're getting very close.
While I really enjoyed seeing cameos from other series here (It's always cool if you recognize somebody you know) I'm also concerned at the same time about cameos just for cameos sake which only make an already intricate story longer.
I thought the inclusion of the cloaked Ashlain ship was a stroke of genious ever since it first appeared. Now can everyone finally unite against the common enemy? And what will happen to our Son'a friends and foes? The tension is still killing me ...
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 13
I realize I’m walking a very thin line with the canon characters, pushing them into morally ambiguous territory, but these are the heroes we’ve come to know and love placed in the darkness, uncertainty, and instability of the postwar period. There are choices to be made, actions to be taken, and few of the answers to be had are either clear or satisfying.
Just like we see in the news nearly every day now, there are all manner of ideas and theories as to who constitutes a real ‘clear and present danger’ to the nations of the world. Those that take a leadership role upon themselves are often judged harshly by others, and must strive to prove that the course of action they’ve established is the correct one.
That’s the situation Picard and his crew are in now. They went to the Briar Patch ostensibly to talk and to help save lives, and now find themselves in a shooting war not of their own making. Many of those ‘along for the ride’ or armchair quarterbacking feel free to criticize Picard and question his motivations. As for whether or not they’re correct in doing so, we’ll have to wait and see.
N’Saba is the embodiment of that critical voice in the Enterprise crew’s midst. He’s the outsider, the one most likely to question Picard’s judgment as he’s served only briefly with the man. And the fact that he’s the same species as the crew now finds themselves in conflict with doesn’t help matters any.
The inclusion of the other crews serves a purpose other than simply cameos for cameos sake. They help to demonstrate how wide this conflict is becoming, and what it could potentially erupt into. The events within the Briar Patch are not occurring in a political vacuum, and they are (and will continue to have) real and telling consequences for the Federation as a whole.
I hope this serves to clarify somewhat the course I’m taking, and the rationale behind it.
I thank you for your commentary and input, CeJay. Again, it isn’t my intention to portray Picard and company in an unfavorable light. Quite the contrary, as the crew of the flagship, it falls to them to lead the way into dangerous waters against new enemies in defense of the Federation.
I realize I’m walking a very thin line with the canon characters, pushing them into morally ambiguous territory, but these are the heroes we’ve come to know and love placed in the darkness, uncertainty, and instability of the postwar period. There are choices to be made, actions to be taken, and few of the answers to be had are either clear or satisfying.
Just like we see in the news nearly every day now, there are all manner of ideas and theories as to who constitutes a real ‘clear and present danger’ to the nations of the world. Those that take a leadership role upon themselves are often judged harshly by others, and must strive to prove that the course of action they’ve established is the correct one.
That’s the situation Picard and his crew are in now. They went to the Briar Patch ostensibly to talk and to help save lives, and now find themselves in a shooting war not of their own making. Many of those ‘along for the ride’ or armchair quarterbacking feel free to criticize Picard and question his motivations. As for whether or not they’re correct in doing so, we’ll have to wait and see.
N’Saba is the embodiment of that critical voice in the Enterprise crew’s midst. He’s the outsider, the one most likely to question Picard’s judgment as he’s served only briefly with the man. And the fact that he’s the same species as the crew now finds themselves in conflict with doesn’t help matters any.
The inclusion of the other crews serves a purpose other than simply cameos for cameos sake. They help to demonstrate how wide this conflict is becoming, and what it could potentially erupt into. The events within the Briar Patch are not occurring in a political vacuum, and they are (and will continue to have) real and telling consequences for the Federation as a whole.
I hope this serves to clarify somewhat the course I’m taking, and the rationale behind it.
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 13
Great chapter as usual, Gibraltar! :thumbsup:
And, Ceej, this constant worry you keep expressing about his OC showing up canon characters is odd coming from someone who created an OC so perfect that her people are reportedly worshipped by lesser peoples as gods! (That's straight from one of your stories. I remember it plain as day.)
Gibraltar has given a good literary defense of his treatment of the canon characters. Now I'll give you a practical one: The story may be set in the TNG universe, but it is not a TNG story! The characters from TNG are the guest stars here. There's no law that says that the spinoff characters have to defer to the guest stars in the spinoff series, even if the guests are from the parent series. So if OC's from this series get a couple of dings on Baldy, fine. Baldy already got seven years on TV and four movies. He won't suffer all that much damage.
Great chapter as usual, Gibraltar! :thumbsup:
And, Ceej, this constant worry you keep expressing about his OC showing up canon characters is odd coming from someone who created an OC so perfect that her people are reportedly worshipped by lesser peoples as gods! (That's straight from one of your stories. I remember it plain as day.)
Gibraltar has given a good literary defense of his treatment of the canon characters. Now I'll give you a practical one: The story may be set in the TNG universe, but it is not a TNG story! The characters from TNG are the guest stars here. There's no law that says that the spinoff characters have to defer to the guest stars in the spinoff series, even if the guests are from the parent series. So if OC's from this series get a couple of dings on Baldy, fine. Baldy already got seven years on TV and four movies. He won't suffer all that much damage.
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 13
I'm kinda neutral on the canon v. non-canon characters debate.
However, I did like the Shanthi/Ramirez confrontation.
The question going through my mind is: will the Enterprise play a part in helping the Gibraltar or will Sandhurst have to deal with the (soon not to be) cloaked ship without them? (I'm personally hoping the Enterprise gets there just in time to recover the escape pods from the Venska.)
I'm kinda neutral on the canon v. non-canon characters debate.
However, I did like the Shanthi/Ramirez confrontation.
The question going through my mind is: will the Enterprise play a part in helping the Gibraltar or will Sandhurst have to deal with the (soon not to be) cloaked ship without them? (I'm personally hoping the Enterprise gets there just in time to recover the escape pods from the Venska.)
Prophets and Loss - Chapter 14
Chapter 14
The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone
In the ranks of death you will find him;
His father's sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;"
Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,
"Tho' all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"
The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
They shall never sound in slavery!"
-The Minstrel Boy by Thomas Moore
USS Gibraltar
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
“Ashok,” Sandhurst practically gasped from the captain’s chair as the med-tech attended to his cracked sternum. “What’s our status?”
The Bolian’s report from Engineering was typically succinct. “It’s bad, sir, but it could be worse. The mains are offline, but we’ll have restored warp power in the next forty-five minutes. The impulse manifolds are another matter, however. We’re going to have to swap out some major components in the impulse drive before we can push the ship any faster than one-eighth impulse speed, Captain.”
Sandhurst glanced over his shoulder at the master systems board at the back of the bridge with its cutaway cross-section of the ship. Taking account of the multiple zones of flashing crimson, he inquired, “And the structural integrity grid, Lieutenant?”
“With respect, sir, we can worry about shoring up the hull after we’ve re-established main power and our defenses.”
Pushing down the urge to chide the engineer for his bluntness, Sandhurst realized the man’s assessment and candor were both correct and appropriate. “Acknowledged, Mr. Ashok. Bridge, out.”
“Captain…” Juneau looked up from her sensor display at Ops. “I’m reading a tetryon-surge at 278 mark 244.”
The med-tech finished mending Sandhurst’s sternum with a portable ostio-knitter. Tilting his head to one side as the medic injected him with a pain-abating analgesic. Donald queried, “Source?”
Juneau eyed her readings, then shot him a disbelieving look. “Vessel decloaking, Captain. Alshain by configuration, a heavy cruiser!”
Brushing past the medic, Sandhurst made for the unoccupied Helm station.
*****
As her cloaking field dissipated, the Venska opened fire on the hapless quarry in her sights. First to fall was one of the Bajoran attack ships, whose shields were already depleted from her brief skirmish with the Son’a battleship. The stout little craft erupted in a blaze of escaping gas and debris as the warship’s exciser cannons and disruptors tore into its superstructure.
The remaining Bajora-Tavan craft reacted with surprising speed, scattering outward and reforming into two-ship hunter/killer pairs. Dozens of torpedoes and plasma bolts, followed by strobing pulses of golden phaser fire crashed against the Venska’s shields, as the Army of Light sought to avenge their fallen brethren.
*****
Bajora-Tavan Attack Ship Meressa
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
“Emissary, the recovery team is aboard. They report they have the Bajoran female.”
The Emissary nodded with the vadark’s head, “Excellent.”
An alarm wailed at the weapon’s console as the Alshain warship decloaked and opened fire. “Emissary, we have been engaged by the Alshain. Moving to evade.”
“Have the other ships screen us, Prylar-Captain. Make whatever sacrifices are necessary to ensure our survival and that of our ‘guest.’”
“It shall be done, Emissary.”
The lead ship wheeled around and fled as its fellows ran interference, peppering the heavy cruiser with fire. Unprepared for the ferocity of the Bajorans' defense, the Venska was forced to break off from her attack run on the Ru’afo and Gibraltar to fend off the squadron of doggedly persistent attack ships.
*****
USS Gibraltar
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Taking the Helm, Sandhurst used the only means of propulsion left to them, the chemical reaction control thrusters. Firing thrusters on full, he commanded the sluggishly responding starship to dip beneath the larger Son’a battlecruiser, shielding Gibraltar from the guns of the oncoming Alshain warship. He knew the tactic would not work for long. Without shields, the destruction of the Son’a battlewagon in such close proximity would spell doom for the starship as well.
Turning to look behind him, Sandhurst took stock of his remaining crew. Plazzi was unconscious and being attended to by medics, and with the exception of Juneau his other senior staff were either trapped down on the planet or otherwise incapacitated. He checked the sensors, running a quick scan of the Son’a vessel. The battlecruiser was still intact, and whatever had knocked out power aboard the ship was now abating. The captain surmised the Son’a would restore full power in only a matter of minutes.
Inclining his head towards Juneau, Sandhurst said, “Lieutenant, you have the Conn.” He stooped to pick up a pair of phasers from the deck, then tapped his compin. “Captain to Security, I want a heavily armed detachment in transporter room one in two minutes, prepared for boarding action.” Another tap, “Sandhurst to transporter room one, beam three stun grenades onto the bridge of the Son’a vessel immediately. Five seconds after they detonate, initiate a site-to-site transport and put me on the bridge of that ship.” As an afterthought, he added, “And put proximity-fuse stun grenades into the lift cars and adjoining corridors of the Son’a ship, I don’t want anyone interrupting us over there.”
Juneau remained at the Ops console as a senior enlisted crewman took over at Helm. She gave Sandhurst an incredulous look, clearly mystified as to his reasoning. He directed a fatalistic smile at the young woman. “Gibraltar’s out of commission for the moment, so I’m borrowing a bigger ship for a little while. Be prepared to leave at best speed when Ashok gets the impulse engines back online. If you lose contact with me over there, you are to assume I am dead or captured and you are to fall back to the task force, and do not attempt a rescue. Your first responsibility is to the crew and the ship. Am I understood?”
She nodded numbly, still processing the unusual order.
Sandhurst’s combadge chirped, “Chief Towsend to the Captain, make ready for transport.” Extending a phaser in each hand, Sandhurst stood in front of the main viewer and prepared himself. The transporter field engulfed him…
*****
…Only a single crewman was still moving on the bridge of the Ru’afo when Sandhurst materialized. A heavy stun discharge solved that problem. Donald approached the command chair, taking measure of the gruesomely disfigured Son’a adhar in charge, now slumped insensate in his chair.
“Thanks for being so accommodating on such short notice, Adhar.” Holstering one of his phasers, Sandhurst used his free hand to pull Wuuten out of the chair, dumping him unceremoniously onto the deck. Taking the seat, he pulled a console interface to him and began familiarizing himself with Son’a systems layout.
The hum of an incoming transporter field presaged the arrival of Gibraltar’s security team.
Sandhurst greeted the assembled crew without looking up. “Welcome aboard the newly rechristened SS Bitter Irony, gentlemen. Please see to our privacy as I attempt to access their intruder control systems.”
*****
Son’a Battlecruiser Ru’afo
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Anij sank to the deck, the effort of having generated such a large and prolonged temporal inversion had drained her considerably. The cabin lights flickered on as the field-effect withered away, and Gallatin’s first thought was of the armed security contingent just outside their quarters, doubtless with orders to kill the both of them.
He struggled past the shuddering pneumatic door as the entrance’s circuitry struggled to reassert it’s control over the hatch. Pounding down the corridor, he turned just in time to see the security team still moving at a sluggish pace, obviously disoriented by the experience. As Gallatin approached the first of them and reached for the man’s holstered sidearm, neurozine gas began to pour into the passageway.
*****
Bajora-Tavan Attack Ship Meressa
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Having fled into the surrounding miasma, the Emissary’s ship made good its escape. Now, no longer imperiled by the Son’a or the Alshain, the Emissary had the time and opportunity to thoroughly interrogate the Bajoran Federation officer.
Wielding the energies of the Orb of Transcendence, he probed her thoughts, combing through her memories, mining everything he could regarding the last fifty years of Bajoran history.
What he found dashed eons of hope and decades of careful planning. He withdrew slowly from her mind, easing back the tendrils of his consciousness that had slithered along her neural pathways.
She regained awareness slowly, her eyes finally fluttering open to find him staring at her. “Wha—“ Pell sputtered as recently occluded synapses resumed old relationships. “Who are you?”
The Emissary raised a trembling hand, studying it. “At the moment I reside within Vadark Jobrin Adnai of the Bajora-Tava. As for a name of my own, my true designation is beyond the vadark’s vocal capabilities.” His eyes glowed amber briefly as he reasserted control over Jobrin’s body. The man was a willing vessel, but the physiology of the possessed would on occasion try to expel the Emissary’s consciousness of their own accord, like an organism trying to overcome a viral pathogen.
Pell’s eyes narrowed. “I know you, demon” she hissed. “Kosst Amojan! Deceiver, betrayer, false Prophet, and enemy to the true gods of the Celestial Temple.”
He smiled in response, “Yes and no, my child. I did once dwell with the others in the Temple, but I was not cast out like my wicked cousins. I left of my own volition.”
Looking unconvinced, Pell replied, “More lies from the king of deceit.”
“I have no reason to lie to you, child. Indeed, you and the rest of the Bajoran people are the ones who’ve been betrayed and abused by your so-called Prophets. It was my attempts to help the Bajoran people that resulted in the denizens of the Temple turning their backs on me.”
Pell studied him in sullen silence.
The Emissary sighed, “I see your indoctrination in the liturgy has left you unable to consider alternative avenues, Ojana.” He leaned forward, tapping a finger to his temple. “Stop reacting like a devout Bajoran for a moment, and put to use the keen mind that Starfleet trained you to think objectively with. The species that inhabits the Celestial Temple is both powerful and wise, but we are not gods. The Prophets flatter themselves by encouraging your worship, and all the while they toy with your people’s culture, bending your beliefs to fit their whims.”
“The Prophets are the protectors of the Bajoran people!” she spat defiantly.
“Oh, really?” he chortled. “Then how do you explain the Cardassian Occupation? The Prophets could have cast the Cardassians out at any time with almost no effort at all. Don’t forget, Ojana, when in the Celestial Temple we exist outside the confines of linear time. The fact the occupation would occur was known by the Prophets long before your people were walking upright, but they never warned you, did they? Oh, they alluded to it in vague prophecies, but nowhere did they set a date or instruct you to raise up armies to defend yourselves against their eventual incursion.”
Pell shook her head, “Lies! I won’t hear this!”
“Deny the truth all you want, child. It won’t change the simple facts. The Bajorans have been lied to and manipulated for countless generations. It is the destiny of the Bajora-Tava to end that crime, to correct the sacrilege that has festered among your people for far too long.”
“You can’t be one of the Prophets, you don’t even sound like one of them.”
He smiled wistfully. “That’s because I’ve lived among the Bajorans for millennia, Ojana. I was sent from the Temple to walk as a man, to gain a greater understanding of your people and to convey that understanding to the others. At times I jumped from person to person, often simply observing your ways and not interfering. When I finally felt I understood you enough to actually live as one of you, I found a succession of men and women, many of them unrepentant criminals, whose only contribution to your society was inflicting pain and misery on others.
“These people’s bodies I used for my own. I married, raised families, and worked as everything from a share-cropper in Rakantha Province to the Most Solemn Kai of the Vedek Assembly. Eventually, the others felt I had become too enamored of the Bajoran people, and my desire to protect your people from harm was seen as being blasphemous to their ideology. The gates to the Celestial Temple were forever barred against me, and I have wandered as a disembodied specter ever since.”
Pell stared at him, the weight of his words sinking into her soul. “This goes against everything I was ever taught” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
“I know, child, and I’m sorry. When I led the first of the Bajora-Tava away from Bajor only months after the Cardassians’ arrival, it had been my intent to forge a holy army capable of wresting Bajor back from Cardassian hands. Now I come to find that the occupation is long over, and the faith of my misguided brothers and sisters has infected every facet of Bajoran society.”
“What will you do?” Pell asked fearfully.
“The only thing I can do, child. I will lead the Army of Light back to Bajor and drive out the evil that now resides there.”
Tears flowed down Pell’s cheeks at the thought of Bajor once again engulfed in turmoil and bloodshed. “Please, don’t do this,” she begged. “We’ve only just begun to recover from the depredations of the occupation. Bajor needs peace and stability, not a holy war.”
“Bajor needs truth, child” he said heavily. “And if that truth is to be accompanied by fire, then it must come to pass.”
*****
Planet Ba’ku
Dorian Mountains
Bajora-Tavan Attack Ship Drosov
Issara Taiee sat in the corner of the attack ship’s tiny operating theater and wept. She was emotionally and physically spent. Three hours of intensive surgery following her capture and interrogation by the Bajora-Tava had tasked her almost beyond imagining.
It had been a near thing. Lar’ragos’ injuries had come frighteningly close to overwhelming her capabilities. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d paused during the procedure, prepared to ask the non-existent EMH it’s opinion of her handiwork, or to assist at a particularly dicey moment.
Dr. Murakawa had been right. She was far too dependant upon the hologram’s abilities and advice, and that dependence had almost cost Pava his life.
She glanced up at the bio-monitors, which showed the El Aurian’s biometrics reading steady and stable. He would survive long enough for more comprehensive follow-on care aboard the starship.
*****
Shuttle Heyerdahl
Planet Ba’ku
Dorian Mountains
High mountain peaks loomed over them as Ensign Lightner maneuvered the shuttle towards the mouth of the cave. Crouched near the open rear hatch, Prylar-Captain Bral shook his head in disbelief. “This other Emissary is a Human? How can that be? How could the Prophets allow such a thing?”
Squatting next to him, Liana Ramirez chuckled softly. “You’d have to ask them, Bral. The Prophets apparently selected him, and Kai Opaka sanctified his arrival on Bajor seven years ago. It is said that Sisko now dwells with the Prophets in the Celestial Temple.”
“Heresy” was Bral’s only comeback.
Now in position, the shuttle turned slowly to allow the joint-Bajoran/Starfleet search and rescue team to offload at the mouth of the same cavern complex that had sheltered the Ba’ku months earlier during the standoff with the Son’a. Other teams were proceeding on foot back up the mountain trail, checking other potential hiding places along that route.
They jumped down off the back of the shuttle, moving in covering fire-teams to the cave mouth. Shining her beacon-light into the blackness, Ramirez shouted, “I’m Commander Ramirez of the Federation Starfleet! We’ve come to rescue survivors of the Alshain attack. We have food and medicine.”
At first there was no response. Then, ever so slowly, figures began to move in the darkness. Shuffling into the light of Ramirez’s beam, a Ba’ku male clutching a small child blinked against the harsh glare as his face registered the onset of the recently unfamiliar emotion of hope.
*****
Alshain Heavy Cruiser Venska
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
R’Voss was jostled in his seat as the cruiser was buffeted by another Bajoran salvo. The attack ships were proving formidable and elusive; large enough to pack a serious punch, yet small enough to make targeting them difficult at close range.
“Shields holding at sixty-three percent, Sutahr” announced the young oyan manning the secondary tactical post.
Three more of the Bajoran ships had fallen before the Venska’s torpedoes and exciser cannons, but that still left five to contend with.
Captain Yejokk looked on with frustration as the inexperienced gunners sought to obtain weapons locks on their cagey opponents. Grabbing two handfuls of thick fur, Yejokk yarded one of the gunners out of his seat, taking the Alshain’s place at the weapons console. “You must use manual targeting,” he snarled, “And allow the reticule to float until you are prepared to target and fire simultaneously.” By way of demonstration, Yejokk locked on to one of the attack ships and sent a flurry of merculite rockets at the nimble vessel, which was rocked by multiple impacts.
As the stricken attack ship tumbled through space out of control, her sister ships broke formation and scattered, following the Emissary’s retreating craft.
The bridge of the Venska trembled unexpectedly as a volley of five photon torpedoes and a brace of disruptors hammered her starboard-aft quarter. A sputtering console ignited the fur of one young officer, who was quickly engulfed in flames and began to flail wildly, one of his blazing arms nearly hitting Yejokk at his gunner’s station. In response, the Klingon drew his sidearm and vaporized the howling oyan, announcing “Starboard-aft shields have failed, Sutahr. That strike came from the Son’a vessel.”
R’Voss let out a low growl from the captain’s chair. “Not so incapacitated as they let on.”
Son’a disruptors lanced into Venska’s hull through the gap in her shields, blasting the ship’s forcefield generators all along the port side. The bleating alarms became almost deafening on the bridge, where R’Voss tried to sort out this suddenly catastrophic turn of events.
“Sutahr, all shielding along the port side is gone… and we are being hailed by the Son’a.”
“Ignore them and cloak!” the Sutahr ordered.
“Damage to the shield grid has overloaded the cloaking device, sir.”
R’Voss’ heart sank at this latest news. Hoping to bide some time, he instructed, “On screen.” Yejokk barked out a curse and ducked behind his console as the viewer flickered to life.
It took R’Voss a moment to decipher the image on the viewscreen. Rather than a ghoulish Son’a officer, a Human male in a Starfleet uniform sat staring at him from the adhar’s seat.
“Good day to you, sir,” Sandhurst offered with mock joviality. “I’ve already accepted the Son’a’s surrender, and I’m prepared to hear yours as well.”
“I’d sooner die, as would my crew” R’Voss answered fiercely.
Sandhurst shrugged indifferently. “This ends now, or I’ll transport your entire crew into vacuum and take your pretty ship.” He leaned forward, smiling confidently. “I’m gathering quite the collection today as you can see, and I need yours to complete the set.”
R’Voss stalled, “You’re Starfleet, and Starfleet follows guidelines, even in a time of war. Your threats are empty ones.” Without looking, R’Voss used one hand to quickly type a text message to the weapons stations as he maintained eye contact with the Human, Wait until they lower shields to transport and then obliterate them.
In response, Sandhurst murmured, “Now, Mr. Juneau.”
Roughly half the members of Venska’s bridge crew vanished in humming transporter fields. Sandhurst cautioned, “You forget, Sutahr, I have two ships. I needn’t lower Ru’afo’s shields to fulfill my obligations. And I’d urge you to take a good look around. There’s an entire nebula between myself and the rest of Starfleet. What happens in the Briar Patch stays in the Briar Patch.” He sat back in his chair, his body visibly knotted with tension. “Oh, and tell that cowering petaQ hiding behind the console to stand and show himself.”
At that, Yejokk rose from behind the tactical station, mustering as much dignity as he could under the circumstances. The Klingon’s eyes shot daggers at Sandhurst.
“There now, doesn’t everyone feel better now that everything’s out in the open?” The condescension in Sandhurst’s voice was unmistakable. “Speak, Sutahr. Do I leave your people bouncing around inside my transporter buffers, or do I materialize them in the cold of space?” He added, “You’ll be the one who has to tell their septs the circumstances under which they died.”
R’Voss stood as unmoving as a statue, his mind racing with calculations of his potential loss in Alshain social standings should he surrender, versus his family’s accrual of prestige should he die honorably in battle. With his cousin R’Vor’s recent defeat, R’Voss’ sept could absorb no more blemishes.
Clasping his hands behind him, the sutahr bared his menacing teeth. “I will die with my crew, Human.”
Yejokk gave the Alshain an approving look as he moved to fire one last fusillade against the Son’a warship.
Sandhurst sighed, “We do this the hard way, then. Juneau, do it!”
Multiple stun grenades took shape upon the Venska’s bridge, deposited by transporter. The pulsing flashes of energy permeated every centimeter of the command center, sending its remaining occupants sprawling across seats, consoles, and the deck. Simultaneously, the Alshain that had been beamed off the bridge were transported into one of Gibraltar’s cargo holds that had been preemptively filled with anesthezine gas.
Within moments, it was over. As his security teams, bolstered by regular Gibraltar crew, fanned out aboard the Son’a and Alshain warships to secure both vessels, Sandhurst could scarcely believe their outrageous luck. He’d kept expecting the proverbial bottom to fall out from under the audacious plan, but there had been sufficient distractions present that the combatants had virtually ignored the small Federation ship and its crew.
As his adrenaline ebbed, Sandhurst remained in the chair, forcing himself to relax. There was still the matter of Ramirez’s away team, which had been out of contact for over a day, not to mention Pell Ojana’s abduction at the hands of the mysterious Bajoran sect. There was still much to be done.
*****
Chapter 14
The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone
In the ranks of death you will find him;
His father's sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;"
Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,
"Tho' all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"
The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
They shall never sound in slavery!"
-The Minstrel Boy by Thomas Moore
USS Gibraltar
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
“Ashok,” Sandhurst practically gasped from the captain’s chair as the med-tech attended to his cracked sternum. “What’s our status?”
The Bolian’s report from Engineering was typically succinct. “It’s bad, sir, but it could be worse. The mains are offline, but we’ll have restored warp power in the next forty-five minutes. The impulse manifolds are another matter, however. We’re going to have to swap out some major components in the impulse drive before we can push the ship any faster than one-eighth impulse speed, Captain.”
Sandhurst glanced over his shoulder at the master systems board at the back of the bridge with its cutaway cross-section of the ship. Taking account of the multiple zones of flashing crimson, he inquired, “And the structural integrity grid, Lieutenant?”
“With respect, sir, we can worry about shoring up the hull after we’ve re-established main power and our defenses.”
Pushing down the urge to chide the engineer for his bluntness, Sandhurst realized the man’s assessment and candor were both correct and appropriate. “Acknowledged, Mr. Ashok. Bridge, out.”
“Captain…” Juneau looked up from her sensor display at Ops. “I’m reading a tetryon-surge at 278 mark 244.”
The med-tech finished mending Sandhurst’s sternum with a portable ostio-knitter. Tilting his head to one side as the medic injected him with a pain-abating analgesic. Donald queried, “Source?”
Juneau eyed her readings, then shot him a disbelieving look. “Vessel decloaking, Captain. Alshain by configuration, a heavy cruiser!”
Brushing past the medic, Sandhurst made for the unoccupied Helm station.
*****
As her cloaking field dissipated, the Venska opened fire on the hapless quarry in her sights. First to fall was one of the Bajoran attack ships, whose shields were already depleted from her brief skirmish with the Son’a battleship. The stout little craft erupted in a blaze of escaping gas and debris as the warship’s exciser cannons and disruptors tore into its superstructure.
The remaining Bajora-Tavan craft reacted with surprising speed, scattering outward and reforming into two-ship hunter/killer pairs. Dozens of torpedoes and plasma bolts, followed by strobing pulses of golden phaser fire crashed against the Venska’s shields, as the Army of Light sought to avenge their fallen brethren.
*****
Bajora-Tavan Attack Ship Meressa
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
“Emissary, the recovery team is aboard. They report they have the Bajoran female.”
The Emissary nodded with the vadark’s head, “Excellent.”
An alarm wailed at the weapon’s console as the Alshain warship decloaked and opened fire. “Emissary, we have been engaged by the Alshain. Moving to evade.”
“Have the other ships screen us, Prylar-Captain. Make whatever sacrifices are necessary to ensure our survival and that of our ‘guest.’”
“It shall be done, Emissary.”
The lead ship wheeled around and fled as its fellows ran interference, peppering the heavy cruiser with fire. Unprepared for the ferocity of the Bajorans' defense, the Venska was forced to break off from her attack run on the Ru’afo and Gibraltar to fend off the squadron of doggedly persistent attack ships.
*****
USS Gibraltar
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Taking the Helm, Sandhurst used the only means of propulsion left to them, the chemical reaction control thrusters. Firing thrusters on full, he commanded the sluggishly responding starship to dip beneath the larger Son’a battlecruiser, shielding Gibraltar from the guns of the oncoming Alshain warship. He knew the tactic would not work for long. Without shields, the destruction of the Son’a battlewagon in such close proximity would spell doom for the starship as well.
Turning to look behind him, Sandhurst took stock of his remaining crew. Plazzi was unconscious and being attended to by medics, and with the exception of Juneau his other senior staff were either trapped down on the planet or otherwise incapacitated. He checked the sensors, running a quick scan of the Son’a vessel. The battlecruiser was still intact, and whatever had knocked out power aboard the ship was now abating. The captain surmised the Son’a would restore full power in only a matter of minutes.
Inclining his head towards Juneau, Sandhurst said, “Lieutenant, you have the Conn.” He stooped to pick up a pair of phasers from the deck, then tapped his compin. “Captain to Security, I want a heavily armed detachment in transporter room one in two minutes, prepared for boarding action.” Another tap, “Sandhurst to transporter room one, beam three stun grenades onto the bridge of the Son’a vessel immediately. Five seconds after they detonate, initiate a site-to-site transport and put me on the bridge of that ship.” As an afterthought, he added, “And put proximity-fuse stun grenades into the lift cars and adjoining corridors of the Son’a ship, I don’t want anyone interrupting us over there.”
Juneau remained at the Ops console as a senior enlisted crewman took over at Helm. She gave Sandhurst an incredulous look, clearly mystified as to his reasoning. He directed a fatalistic smile at the young woman. “Gibraltar’s out of commission for the moment, so I’m borrowing a bigger ship for a little while. Be prepared to leave at best speed when Ashok gets the impulse engines back online. If you lose contact with me over there, you are to assume I am dead or captured and you are to fall back to the task force, and do not attempt a rescue. Your first responsibility is to the crew and the ship. Am I understood?”
She nodded numbly, still processing the unusual order.
Sandhurst’s combadge chirped, “Chief Towsend to the Captain, make ready for transport.” Extending a phaser in each hand, Sandhurst stood in front of the main viewer and prepared himself. The transporter field engulfed him…
*****
…Only a single crewman was still moving on the bridge of the Ru’afo when Sandhurst materialized. A heavy stun discharge solved that problem. Donald approached the command chair, taking measure of the gruesomely disfigured Son’a adhar in charge, now slumped insensate in his chair.
“Thanks for being so accommodating on such short notice, Adhar.” Holstering one of his phasers, Sandhurst used his free hand to pull Wuuten out of the chair, dumping him unceremoniously onto the deck. Taking the seat, he pulled a console interface to him and began familiarizing himself with Son’a systems layout.
The hum of an incoming transporter field presaged the arrival of Gibraltar’s security team.
Sandhurst greeted the assembled crew without looking up. “Welcome aboard the newly rechristened SS Bitter Irony, gentlemen. Please see to our privacy as I attempt to access their intruder control systems.”
*****
Son’a Battlecruiser Ru’afo
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Anij sank to the deck, the effort of having generated such a large and prolonged temporal inversion had drained her considerably. The cabin lights flickered on as the field-effect withered away, and Gallatin’s first thought was of the armed security contingent just outside their quarters, doubtless with orders to kill the both of them.
He struggled past the shuddering pneumatic door as the entrance’s circuitry struggled to reassert it’s control over the hatch. Pounding down the corridor, he turned just in time to see the security team still moving at a sluggish pace, obviously disoriented by the experience. As Gallatin approached the first of them and reached for the man’s holstered sidearm, neurozine gas began to pour into the passageway.
*****
Bajora-Tavan Attack Ship Meressa
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Having fled into the surrounding miasma, the Emissary’s ship made good its escape. Now, no longer imperiled by the Son’a or the Alshain, the Emissary had the time and opportunity to thoroughly interrogate the Bajoran Federation officer.
Wielding the energies of the Orb of Transcendence, he probed her thoughts, combing through her memories, mining everything he could regarding the last fifty years of Bajoran history.
What he found dashed eons of hope and decades of careful planning. He withdrew slowly from her mind, easing back the tendrils of his consciousness that had slithered along her neural pathways.
She regained awareness slowly, her eyes finally fluttering open to find him staring at her. “Wha—“ Pell sputtered as recently occluded synapses resumed old relationships. “Who are you?”
The Emissary raised a trembling hand, studying it. “At the moment I reside within Vadark Jobrin Adnai of the Bajora-Tava. As for a name of my own, my true designation is beyond the vadark’s vocal capabilities.” His eyes glowed amber briefly as he reasserted control over Jobrin’s body. The man was a willing vessel, but the physiology of the possessed would on occasion try to expel the Emissary’s consciousness of their own accord, like an organism trying to overcome a viral pathogen.
Pell’s eyes narrowed. “I know you, demon” she hissed. “Kosst Amojan! Deceiver, betrayer, false Prophet, and enemy to the true gods of the Celestial Temple.”
He smiled in response, “Yes and no, my child. I did once dwell with the others in the Temple, but I was not cast out like my wicked cousins. I left of my own volition.”
Looking unconvinced, Pell replied, “More lies from the king of deceit.”
“I have no reason to lie to you, child. Indeed, you and the rest of the Bajoran people are the ones who’ve been betrayed and abused by your so-called Prophets. It was my attempts to help the Bajoran people that resulted in the denizens of the Temple turning their backs on me.”
Pell studied him in sullen silence.
The Emissary sighed, “I see your indoctrination in the liturgy has left you unable to consider alternative avenues, Ojana.” He leaned forward, tapping a finger to his temple. “Stop reacting like a devout Bajoran for a moment, and put to use the keen mind that Starfleet trained you to think objectively with. The species that inhabits the Celestial Temple is both powerful and wise, but we are not gods. The Prophets flatter themselves by encouraging your worship, and all the while they toy with your people’s culture, bending your beliefs to fit their whims.”
“The Prophets are the protectors of the Bajoran people!” she spat defiantly.
“Oh, really?” he chortled. “Then how do you explain the Cardassian Occupation? The Prophets could have cast the Cardassians out at any time with almost no effort at all. Don’t forget, Ojana, when in the Celestial Temple we exist outside the confines of linear time. The fact the occupation would occur was known by the Prophets long before your people were walking upright, but they never warned you, did they? Oh, they alluded to it in vague prophecies, but nowhere did they set a date or instruct you to raise up armies to defend yourselves against their eventual incursion.”
Pell shook her head, “Lies! I won’t hear this!”
“Deny the truth all you want, child. It won’t change the simple facts. The Bajorans have been lied to and manipulated for countless generations. It is the destiny of the Bajora-Tava to end that crime, to correct the sacrilege that has festered among your people for far too long.”
“You can’t be one of the Prophets, you don’t even sound like one of them.”
He smiled wistfully. “That’s because I’ve lived among the Bajorans for millennia, Ojana. I was sent from the Temple to walk as a man, to gain a greater understanding of your people and to convey that understanding to the others. At times I jumped from person to person, often simply observing your ways and not interfering. When I finally felt I understood you enough to actually live as one of you, I found a succession of men and women, many of them unrepentant criminals, whose only contribution to your society was inflicting pain and misery on others.
“These people’s bodies I used for my own. I married, raised families, and worked as everything from a share-cropper in Rakantha Province to the Most Solemn Kai of the Vedek Assembly. Eventually, the others felt I had become too enamored of the Bajoran people, and my desire to protect your people from harm was seen as being blasphemous to their ideology. The gates to the Celestial Temple were forever barred against me, and I have wandered as a disembodied specter ever since.”
Pell stared at him, the weight of his words sinking into her soul. “This goes against everything I was ever taught” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
“I know, child, and I’m sorry. When I led the first of the Bajora-Tava away from Bajor only months after the Cardassians’ arrival, it had been my intent to forge a holy army capable of wresting Bajor back from Cardassian hands. Now I come to find that the occupation is long over, and the faith of my misguided brothers and sisters has infected every facet of Bajoran society.”
“What will you do?” Pell asked fearfully.
“The only thing I can do, child. I will lead the Army of Light back to Bajor and drive out the evil that now resides there.”
Tears flowed down Pell’s cheeks at the thought of Bajor once again engulfed in turmoil and bloodshed. “Please, don’t do this,” she begged. “We’ve only just begun to recover from the depredations of the occupation. Bajor needs peace and stability, not a holy war.”
“Bajor needs truth, child” he said heavily. “And if that truth is to be accompanied by fire, then it must come to pass.”
*****
Planet Ba’ku
Dorian Mountains
Bajora-Tavan Attack Ship Drosov
Issara Taiee sat in the corner of the attack ship’s tiny operating theater and wept. She was emotionally and physically spent. Three hours of intensive surgery following her capture and interrogation by the Bajora-Tava had tasked her almost beyond imagining.
It had been a near thing. Lar’ragos’ injuries had come frighteningly close to overwhelming her capabilities. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d paused during the procedure, prepared to ask the non-existent EMH it’s opinion of her handiwork, or to assist at a particularly dicey moment.
Dr. Murakawa had been right. She was far too dependant upon the hologram’s abilities and advice, and that dependence had almost cost Pava his life.
She glanced up at the bio-monitors, which showed the El Aurian’s biometrics reading steady and stable. He would survive long enough for more comprehensive follow-on care aboard the starship.
*****
Shuttle Heyerdahl
Planet Ba’ku
Dorian Mountains
High mountain peaks loomed over them as Ensign Lightner maneuvered the shuttle towards the mouth of the cave. Crouched near the open rear hatch, Prylar-Captain Bral shook his head in disbelief. “This other Emissary is a Human? How can that be? How could the Prophets allow such a thing?”
Squatting next to him, Liana Ramirez chuckled softly. “You’d have to ask them, Bral. The Prophets apparently selected him, and Kai Opaka sanctified his arrival on Bajor seven years ago. It is said that Sisko now dwells with the Prophets in the Celestial Temple.”
“Heresy” was Bral’s only comeback.
Now in position, the shuttle turned slowly to allow the joint-Bajoran/Starfleet search and rescue team to offload at the mouth of the same cavern complex that had sheltered the Ba’ku months earlier during the standoff with the Son’a. Other teams were proceeding on foot back up the mountain trail, checking other potential hiding places along that route.
They jumped down off the back of the shuttle, moving in covering fire-teams to the cave mouth. Shining her beacon-light into the blackness, Ramirez shouted, “I’m Commander Ramirez of the Federation Starfleet! We’ve come to rescue survivors of the Alshain attack. We have food and medicine.”
At first there was no response. Then, ever so slowly, figures began to move in the darkness. Shuffling into the light of Ramirez’s beam, a Ba’ku male clutching a small child blinked against the harsh glare as his face registered the onset of the recently unfamiliar emotion of hope.
*****
Alshain Heavy Cruiser Venska
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
R’Voss was jostled in his seat as the cruiser was buffeted by another Bajoran salvo. The attack ships were proving formidable and elusive; large enough to pack a serious punch, yet small enough to make targeting them difficult at close range.
“Shields holding at sixty-three percent, Sutahr” announced the young oyan manning the secondary tactical post.
Three more of the Bajoran ships had fallen before the Venska’s torpedoes and exciser cannons, but that still left five to contend with.
Captain Yejokk looked on with frustration as the inexperienced gunners sought to obtain weapons locks on their cagey opponents. Grabbing two handfuls of thick fur, Yejokk yarded one of the gunners out of his seat, taking the Alshain’s place at the weapons console. “You must use manual targeting,” he snarled, “And allow the reticule to float until you are prepared to target and fire simultaneously.” By way of demonstration, Yejokk locked on to one of the attack ships and sent a flurry of merculite rockets at the nimble vessel, which was rocked by multiple impacts.
As the stricken attack ship tumbled through space out of control, her sister ships broke formation and scattered, following the Emissary’s retreating craft.
The bridge of the Venska trembled unexpectedly as a volley of five photon torpedoes and a brace of disruptors hammered her starboard-aft quarter. A sputtering console ignited the fur of one young officer, who was quickly engulfed in flames and began to flail wildly, one of his blazing arms nearly hitting Yejokk at his gunner’s station. In response, the Klingon drew his sidearm and vaporized the howling oyan, announcing “Starboard-aft shields have failed, Sutahr. That strike came from the Son’a vessel.”
R’Voss let out a low growl from the captain’s chair. “Not so incapacitated as they let on.”
Son’a disruptors lanced into Venska’s hull through the gap in her shields, blasting the ship’s forcefield generators all along the port side. The bleating alarms became almost deafening on the bridge, where R’Voss tried to sort out this suddenly catastrophic turn of events.
“Sutahr, all shielding along the port side is gone… and we are being hailed by the Son’a.”
“Ignore them and cloak!” the Sutahr ordered.
“Damage to the shield grid has overloaded the cloaking device, sir.”
R’Voss’ heart sank at this latest news. Hoping to bide some time, he instructed, “On screen.” Yejokk barked out a curse and ducked behind his console as the viewer flickered to life.
It took R’Voss a moment to decipher the image on the viewscreen. Rather than a ghoulish Son’a officer, a Human male in a Starfleet uniform sat staring at him from the adhar’s seat.
“Good day to you, sir,” Sandhurst offered with mock joviality. “I’ve already accepted the Son’a’s surrender, and I’m prepared to hear yours as well.”
“I’d sooner die, as would my crew” R’Voss answered fiercely.
Sandhurst shrugged indifferently. “This ends now, or I’ll transport your entire crew into vacuum and take your pretty ship.” He leaned forward, smiling confidently. “I’m gathering quite the collection today as you can see, and I need yours to complete the set.”
R’Voss stalled, “You’re Starfleet, and Starfleet follows guidelines, even in a time of war. Your threats are empty ones.” Without looking, R’Voss used one hand to quickly type a text message to the weapons stations as he maintained eye contact with the Human, Wait until they lower shields to transport and then obliterate them.
In response, Sandhurst murmured, “Now, Mr. Juneau.”
Roughly half the members of Venska’s bridge crew vanished in humming transporter fields. Sandhurst cautioned, “You forget, Sutahr, I have two ships. I needn’t lower Ru’afo’s shields to fulfill my obligations. And I’d urge you to take a good look around. There’s an entire nebula between myself and the rest of Starfleet. What happens in the Briar Patch stays in the Briar Patch.” He sat back in his chair, his body visibly knotted with tension. “Oh, and tell that cowering petaQ hiding behind the console to stand and show himself.”
At that, Yejokk rose from behind the tactical station, mustering as much dignity as he could under the circumstances. The Klingon’s eyes shot daggers at Sandhurst.
“There now, doesn’t everyone feel better now that everything’s out in the open?” The condescension in Sandhurst’s voice was unmistakable. “Speak, Sutahr. Do I leave your people bouncing around inside my transporter buffers, or do I materialize them in the cold of space?” He added, “You’ll be the one who has to tell their septs the circumstances under which they died.”
R’Voss stood as unmoving as a statue, his mind racing with calculations of his potential loss in Alshain social standings should he surrender, versus his family’s accrual of prestige should he die honorably in battle. With his cousin R’Vor’s recent defeat, R’Voss’ sept could absorb no more blemishes.
Clasping his hands behind him, the sutahr bared his menacing teeth. “I will die with my crew, Human.”
Yejokk gave the Alshain an approving look as he moved to fire one last fusillade against the Son’a warship.
Sandhurst sighed, “We do this the hard way, then. Juneau, do it!”
Multiple stun grenades took shape upon the Venska’s bridge, deposited by transporter. The pulsing flashes of energy permeated every centimeter of the command center, sending its remaining occupants sprawling across seats, consoles, and the deck. Simultaneously, the Alshain that had been beamed off the bridge were transported into one of Gibraltar’s cargo holds that had been preemptively filled with anesthezine gas.
Within moments, it was over. As his security teams, bolstered by regular Gibraltar crew, fanned out aboard the Son’a and Alshain warships to secure both vessels, Sandhurst could scarcely believe their outrageous luck. He’d kept expecting the proverbial bottom to fall out from under the audacious plan, but there had been sufficient distractions present that the combatants had virtually ignored the small Federation ship and its crew.
As his adrenaline ebbed, Sandhurst remained in the chair, forcing himself to relax. There was still the matter of Ramirez’s away team, which had been out of contact for over a day, not to mention Pell Ojana’s abduction at the hands of the mysterious Bajoran sect. There was still much to be done.
*****
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 14
Very...very...well done!
Sandhurst's strategy was bold and innovative and the identity of the 'Emissary' was also a nice plot twist. A 10 out of 10 here!
Very...very...well done!
Sandhurst's strategy was bold and innovative and the identity of the 'Emissary' was also a nice plot twist. A 10 out of 10 here! Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 14
I agree - excellent work! I was also happy to see that the Bajora-Tava plot is not a one trick pony (What? Bajor has already been liberated? Super! Lets all turn our swords into plows and live happily ever after). The Emissary has a long-term plan to turn the Bajorans against their gods. This should be intesting. I'm looking forward to the next chapter. ~ DC
I agree - excellent work! I was also happy to see that the Bajora-Tava plot is not a one trick pony (What? Bajor has already been liberated? Super! Lets all turn our swords into plows and live happily ever after). The Emissary has a long-term plan to turn the Bajorans against their gods. This should be intesting. I'm looking forward to the next chapter. ~ DC
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 14
I'm loving the tactics used in your stories. I also think it's great you insert canon dialog in a new situation:
That's nearly a direct quote from TNG: "Lower Decks"
I know it's not the first time you've done that, but it's a detail that adds to the already great quality of your stories!
I'm loving the tactics used in your stories. I also think it's great you insert canon dialog in a new situation:
That's nearly a direct quote from TNG: "Lower Decks"
I know it's not the first time you've done that, but it's a detail that adds to the already great quality of your stories!
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 14
Thank you DavidFalkayn, Demijon, Admiral2, and Dnoth! I appreciate the kind feedback, especially after such a long hiatus between chapters.
I figured good manual target control would be a trait the Klingons shared with Starfleet.
Thank you DavidFalkayn, Demijon, Admiral2, and Dnoth! I appreciate the kind feedback, especially after such a long hiatus between chapters.
Heh, I was wondering if anyone was going to catch that.
I figured good manual target control would be a trait the Klingons shared with Starfleet.
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 14
Not so sure about the Minstrel Boy opening here (no doubt is a great, moody song though) but this chapter is probably one of the best in this story. And that is saying something.
There is nothing not to like here.
Sandhurst’s sudden flare of ingenuity to check-mate his more favorable and much stronger enemy was simply delightful (no wonder this guy beat Owens and Eagle). For a moment I actually thought he was going to kill them all, after all this man has changed significantly over the past. I was much relieved to find he was merely bluffing. But he had me going.
I also admire his sense of humor and irony. It provides definite laugh out loud funny moments and comic relief. (SS Bitter Irony …)
The Bajora-Tava also do not disappoint. The sudden revelation of the wormhole alien in disguise was incredibly well done and took me at complete surprise. Way to keep the tension in place. Kudos.
I also admire how you keep smaller subplots in play such as Taiee’s uncertainty over her medical skills.
Well worth the long wait! :thumbsup: way up.
Not so sure about the Minstrel Boy opening here (no doubt is a great, moody song though) but this chapter is probably one of the best in this story. And that is saying something.
There is nothing not to like here.
Sandhurst’s sudden flare of ingenuity to check-mate his more favorable and much stronger enemy was simply delightful (no wonder this guy beat Owens and Eagle). For a moment I actually thought he was going to kill them all, after all this man has changed significantly over the past. I was much relieved to find he was merely bluffing. But he had me going.
I also admire his sense of humor and irony. It provides definite laugh out loud funny moments and comic relief. (SS Bitter Irony …
)The Bajora-Tava also do not disappoint. The sudden revelation of the wormhole alien in disguise was incredibly well done and took me at complete surprise. Way to keep the tension in place. Kudos.
I also admire how you keep smaller subplots in play such as Taiee’s uncertainty over her medical skills.
Well worth the long wait! :thumbsup: way up.
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 14
Thanks for the kudos CeJay and DarKush.
In retrospect, the lyrics to The Minstrel Boy might not have been totally apropos to this chapter. However, I’ll occasionally have a piece of music running through my head as I write a scene or more of a particular chapter. For this one, I was listening to the soundtrack for Black Hawk Down, which contains a fantastic rendition of that old Irish song. For some reason, it was resonating with me as I penned Sandhurst’s desperate gambit to turn the tide in Starfleet’s favor. That’s why I included it.
Thanks for the kudos CeJay and DarKush.
In retrospect, the lyrics to The Minstrel Boy might not have been totally apropos to this chapter. However, I’ll occasionally have a piece of music running through my head as I write a scene or more of a particular chapter. For this one, I was listening to the soundtrack for Black Hawk Down, which contains a fantastic rendition of that old Irish song. For some reason, it was resonating with me as I penned Sandhurst’s desperate gambit to turn the tide in Starfleet’s favor. That’s why I included it.
Prophets and Loss - Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Shuttle Heyerdahl
Outbound from Planet Ba’ku
Ba’ku System
The Starfleet shuttle and the Bajora-Tavan attack ship Drosov raced upwards and away from Ba’ku in tandem. Ramirez glanced back from the cockpit into the passenger compartment, where between the two rows of seated crew Lar’ragos lay atop a litter, his vitals being closely monitored by Taiee.
The rescued Ba’ku villagers were safely ensconced aboard the Drosov and the two ships were now venturing into orbit to discover the fate of their comrades, both Bajoran and Starfleet. While Ramirez’s landing party had been completely cut off from the Gibraltar, Bral’s ship had received a garbled transmission from his squadron that suggested a multi-party battle had broken out within the star system.
Ramirez had briefly flirted with the idea of a short reconnaissance hop into orbit to take a look around. She had finally decided with Bral’s input that if the system was occupied by enemy forces, it was better to know sooner than later, and that the two craft together might help one another to evade pursuit if they rose to meet a worst-case scenario.
Though skeptical of Gibraltar’s chances in a major tactical engagement with either the Son’a or Alshain, she’d learned the hard way never to bet against the plucky little ship and her valiant crew.
Opening a channel to the Bajoran craft, Ramirez contacted Bral. “Prylar-Captain, our sensors aren’t detecting any signs of your ships.”
“We confirm your readings, Commander” Bral replied. “However, we are detecting a Bajoran comms buoy in orbit. Give me a few moments to decode its message.”
“Acknowledged, Drosov.”
“Damn,” hissed Lightner as he eyed his sensor readouts. “There’s two warships holding position approximately ten au’s out from the planet, one Alshain, the other Son’a. They’ve got Gibraltar bracketed, sir.”
Ramirez observed the ships with similar dread, but her alarm was short-lived. It became apparent after just a moment’s study that none of the ships were maneuvering, let alone firing. A more detailed scan indicated the presence of Federation species aboard both the enemy craft. She barely repressed the uncharacteristic giggle of pure relief that threatened to escape her as she muttered, “I see it, but I don’t quite believe it.”
Lightner looked over at her display, blinking confusedly at the sensor returns. “We… won?”
Shaking her head in disbelief, Ramirez assessed, “So it would appear, Ensign.”
Her comm-link came to life once again, “Drosov to Heyerdahl, we have received new orders and must depart immediately. I regret we will have to load the villagers into our escape capsules and jettison them. Please standby to carry out recovery operations.”
Looking utterly perplexed, Ramirez stammered, “Bral, wait… I don’t understand—“
“I am truly sorry, Ramirez, but apparently your people and mine have fought during our absence.” Bral sounded genuinely regretful, “I must take evasive action to avoid pursuit by your ship.”
“Damn it, Bral, can’t we talk about this? Gibraltar’s in no shape to be pursuing anyo—“
“I have my orders, Commander. I know you understand.” The Drosov veered sharply away, ejecting life pods as she maneuvered hard. The attack ship arced back towards the planet, undoubtedly intending to use its mass to shield their departure from the starship’s battered sensors.
Ramirez pounded her fists against her console in sheer frustration, uttering the most obscene Cardassian invective she could summon.
“Orders, sir?” Lightner asked meekly, clearly not wanting to incur the XO’s ire.
She sighed heavily. “Come about and start collecting those escape craft.” Shaking her head angrily, she ordered tersely, “And get me Gibraltar on subspace…”
*****
Forty-five minutes later, Ramirez stepped out of the crowded shuttle into a landing bay filled with frenetic activity. Upon making their making contact with the ship, Gibraltar had scrambled her remaining auxiliary craft, which were helping to tractor in the Bajoran life pods packed with Ba’ku survivors.
Life capsules, work-bee pods, and shuttlecraft littered the deck as crew members scrambled to attend to the disoriented and frightened refugees. Ramirez drank in the sight, thankful despite her disappointment with Bral’s flight from the system that they had finally accomplished the mission they’d set out on two and a half days earlier.
Med-techs moved to assist Taiee and the security team with Lar’ragos, transferring him from the collapsible litter onto an anti-grav gurney and spiriting him away to Sickbay.
Ramirez turned to acknowledge her away team members individually as they disembarked the shuttle, clapping them on the shoulder and offering words of praise and encouragement. Last off was a sullen looking Kuenre Shanthi, who’d said almost nothing to anyone since his outburst onboard the Drosov the day before. Dunleavy had tried to get the young man to talk, but he stubbornly refused to engage anyone about what he’d experienced at the hands of the Bajora-Tava.
Stopping him with a gentle hand around his bicep, Ramirez pulled the much taller man aside, leading him across the bustling shuttlebay deck to a relatively quiet maintenance alcove. Turning to face him, she studied the young man’s dark features. “Talk to me, Ensign.”
“I have nothing to say, sir” he replied, voice barely above a whisper.
“Kuenre, I promised I’d get you help, and I will. You don’t have to go this alone. It was my mission, and I’m responsible for everyone who participated in it. If you want to blame someone, blame me.”
He met her gaze with listless eyes, “That ship’s already gone to warp, sir.”
“Damn it, Ensign, if you won’t talk to me then at least speak with someone.”
He just stared, not blinking, not responding. Ramirez knew she should order him to Sickbay, see to it that he got a full psychological workup. She was at a loss to explain precisely why, but at the moment she couldn’t bring herself to push the issue.
On some level Liana acknowledged that she’d pulled the away team’s fat from the proverbial fire with guile and determination, but in the process this young man had been crushed underfoot. His trauma was as much due to her inattention as it was Bral’s mind probe.
“Permission to be dismissed, sir?” he croaked lethargically.
She closed her eyes, releasing her grip on his arm. “Granted.”
*****
USS Gibraltar
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Sandhurst strode into the brig, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the reduced lighting levels. He spied their Klingon prisoner sitting defiantly atop a bunk in one holding cell, while the Alshain sutahr occupied another nearby unit. In yet another cell stood Adhar Wuuten, glowering at his captors from behind an invisible containment field.
The captain approached the Son’a leader first. “Adhar, I realize I’ve no reason to expect your cooperation, but for the moment you and I have a common antagonist. This Bajoran sect abducted a member of my crew at the same time as they were betraying your alliance.” He gave Wuuten his most earnestly reasonable expression. “I’m interested in knowing where their base of operations is located.”
Wuuten’s venomous stare was accompanied by silence.
Sandhurst shook his head. “Whether you choose to believe it or not, I wasn’t lying about the reason behind our mission here. We came to rescue Son’a and Ba’ku survivors of the Alshain invasion. I understand you harbor animosity towards the Federation over the attempted Ba’ku relocation, but none of that changes the fact that your empire is gone, destroyed. You need our help, and we’re offering it. We can relocate all of you to any number of uninhabited Federation planets, and give your people a chance to rebuild.”
“Live as beggars and refugees at Federation expense?” Wuuten spat. “Never.”
Sandhurst held his gaze. “What other options are there, Adhar? Your military has been routed, your planets occupied, your colonial holdings laid waste. The Son’a Imperium now exists only as historical fact, and if the Alshain have any say in it, perhaps not even as that.”
“We will take back what is rightfully ours. A mere handful of us forged an empire out of nothing once before, and we shall do so again.”
Nodding with resignation, Sandhurst allowed, “Then I wish you well, Adhar. Once you’ve made reparations for the deaths of seven of my crew, and spent some time weighing your options in a Federation penal settlement, perhaps our offer will appear more attractive.”
Sandhurst moved on, taking up station in front of the Klingon’s cell. As he was pondering what he might say to the recalcitrant warrior, Tark approached. The flesh on the backs of the grizzled old Tellarite’s hands retained the artificial sheen of synthiskin grafts which would soon be replaced by his own healing dermis. “Progress report, Captain.”
Gesturing to the specialist manning the security console, Sandhurst had her engage the cells’ audio filters, thereby leaving their occupants effectively deaf to outside sounds. “Go ahead, Master Chief.”
“We’ve finished beaming the last of the Alshain prisoners to the surface.”
“I take it you found a suitable place for them?”
Tark grinned toothily. “Aye, sir. A remote island, hundreds of kilometers from any other land masses."
“Sounds perfect. They have ample supplies?”
“Yes, sir. Standard Starfleet survival shelters, minus the communications and replicator equipment. They won’t be comfortable, but they will be protected from the elements.”
“And food?” the captain inquired.
Holding up a foil packet, Tark snuffled with dark humor. “Starfleet emergency rations, sir. Dr. Murakawa confirmed they should prove nutritionally adequate for our furry friends.”
Sandhurst shared in the noncom’s wicked grin. “My compliments, Master Chief. You’ve constructed a living hell for our Alshain guests that nonetheless adheres to all the stipulations of the Seldonis IV Convention.”
“Yes, sir.” Tark confirmed proudly.
Inclining his head towards Yejokk, Sandhurst asked, “Anything on our Klingon friend?”
“Quite a bit, actually, sir. Our database identifies him as Yejokk, son of Drast, formerly of the House of Kett. He currently holds the rank of captain in the Defense Forces.”
“Formerly?”
“The House of Kett was dissolved following the Klingon Civil War nine years ago. Apparently, they’d sided with the Duras sisters, and had earned themselves Gowron’s wrath.” Tark paused to glance over at Yejokk, who still managed to retain some of his martial dignity, even while clad in a bland form fitting one-piece jumpsuit. “Now he’s one of General K’Vada’s cronies, sir.”
“K’Vada?” Sandhurst uttered the name like a curse. “There’s someone whose name I could go awhile without hearing again.”
“Aye, sir.” Tark agreed wholeheartedly. “We had to strip search the bastard, run a half-dozen security scans on him, and then have him checked over by Dr. Murakawa before I’d let him walk around unrestrained, even behind a forcefield.”
Sandhurst raised an eyebrow.
“Weapons, captain” Tark elaborated. “He had a pulse-bomb secreted in a fake fingertip, and his incisor teeth were loaded with injection ampoules of neurotoxin. And that’s after we found all the obvious stuff. The Tellarite bobbed his head admiringly, “I’m still not convinced we’ve found everything.”
Smirking, Sandhurst deadpanned, “So, what I hear you saying is he might be dangerous?”
“Just a bit, sir.”
Sandhurst turned to examine the Klingon, who made a show of ignoring the both of them. “Any point in my talking to him?”
“None, sir.”
“Didn’t think so. Anything else, Master Chief?”
“That’s it, sir.”
“Thank you,” Sandhurst said, dismissing the man to return to his duties. Pausing thoughtfully, Sandhurst examined the three threats currently on display in the holding cells. After a few moments, he tapped his combadge. “Lieutenant Ashok, I know you’re shorthanded as it is, but I’m going to need two of your deflector-shield specialists to join me aboard the Alshain ship in ten minutes. Have them meet me in engineering.”
“Aye, sir” the Bolian replied sullenly.
*****
Sandhurst pressed the door chime for the third time, reminding himself that his friend had just undergone reconstructive surgery in Sickbay only fifteen hour earlier. In deference to the dozen or so Ba’ku refugees, compounded by injured Gibraltar crew as well as wounded Son’a, Tarlac, Ellora and Alshain prisoners, Dr. Murakawa had granted Lar’ragos permission to recuperate in his own quarters.
Lar’ragos’ voice, sounding weak but still recognizably his own issued forth from the panel. “Come in.”
Stepping into the sizeable compartment, Sandhurst was surprised to find Lar’ragos awake, lying back in a reclining chair, a hardbound book resting in his lap. Looking curiously at his friend, Sandhurst remarked, “You didn’t hear the door?”
Clad in a loose-fitting sleep tunic and resting under a blanket, Pava shook his head. “I heard it, Donald. I just wasn’t up for company.”
Taken aback by the El Aurian’s demeanor, the captain turned towards to the door. “My apologies, I’ll come back another time.”
“No, it’s fine.” Lar’ragos said tiredly.
Sandhurst shrugged, turning back around to examine the cabin and its contents. Senior officer’s quarters, on the leading edge of the saucer, offered a rectangular viewport that now presented a view of the surrounding nebula. Upon first seeing it days earlier, the captain had thought the Briar Patch to be spectacularly beautiful. Now, though, he saw only an occluding mass, capable of hiding endless numbers of enemy craft from his sensors. There was no beauty here, just death and desolation.
“You’re looking better than I expected, considering your injuries,” Sandhurst said vacantly, still transfixed by the nebula’s intoxicating view.
“Higher metabolism,” Lar’ragos remarked, “Faster recovery time than you puny Humans.”
Tearing himself away from the viewport, Sandhurst walked a slow circuit around the cabin, inspecting the various baubles and artifacts that represented cultures from across the galaxy collected by Pava over the centuries. Among the memorabilia was an old-style framed photograph, showing an even younger looking Lar’ragos shoulder-to-shoulder with a group of burly men, all dressed in some sort of military fatigues. The inscription on the plaque read: 507th Royal Fusiliers, and was followed by a quote from the 20th century Terran writer, George Orwell – ‘People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.’
Behind another, much larger frame on the inside bulkhead was a tattered and singed Federation flag. Gesturing to the shabby yet still-noble standard, Sandhurst asked, “What does this represent to you, Pava?”
“Stupidity and big cats,” Lar’ragos answered cryptically.
“The Federation,” Sandhurst clarified, “What does it represent to you?”
An exasperated Lar’ragos snapped closed his worn copy of Koloth’s Bloodwine in a Time of Honor, and threw the dog-eared edition onto an end table with a loud clap. “I think we covered this subject about fifteen minutes after we met at the academy, Donald.”
“Humor me.”
“Fine,” Lar’ragos muttered, collecting his thoughts. “The Federation represents hope. The hope of peace, of enlightenment, of cooperation between species… rather than the chaos, bloodshed, and imperialism that stains much of the rest of our galaxy.”
“And where does torture fall into the Federation’s credo?”
Lar’ragos sighed, finally intuiting where the conversation was inevitably headed. “I didn’t torture anyone. I immobilized the boy, and convinced him that I was certainly capable of torturing him. He offered up his information freely.”
Sandhurst merely offered a cynical smirk, calling Lar’ragos’ attention to his own statement’s hypocrisy.
“I didn’t have a lot of options, Donald” Lar’ragos said defensively. “Believe me, it wasn’t my first choice. And lest you forget, they ambushed us.”
“Irrelevant,” Sandhurst countered. “That kind of behavior is absolutely unacceptable, and I won’t have someone who practices it aboard my ship.”
“You’d rather I’d have done nothing and allowed our people to remain prisoners of the Bajorans?” Lar’ragos struggled out of the chair with a concerted effort, his face pinched with pain at the exertion. “I saved the damn away team… I saved the mission!”
“You crippled a young man during his people’s First Contact with the Federation, Pava. You dishonored your uniform, this ship, and you spit in my face while doing it.”
“You?” Lar’ragos snarled, “What the hell does any of this have to do with you?”
Sandhurst turned so quickly that Lar’ragos hadn’t quite processed what was happening before the captain had him pinned to the viewport, Donald’s face only inches away from his own. “You don’t know what the Baron did to me, Pava! You don’t know the half of it. He turned me inside out, crushed my mind and my spirit… and the thought… the thought that my friend, my oldest and dearest friend is capable of that same kind of inhuman savagery makes me sick beyond words!”
Wheeling around, Sandhurst turned his back on Lar’ragos, unable to look at him any longer. “This is your last warning, Lieutenant. If anything even remotely similar to this happens again, I’ll see that you spend the next century of your extended lifespan cooling your heels in the stockade on Jaros II.”
A pale and trembling Lar’ragos watched his captain and friend stalk out of his quarters before the El Aurian’s legs gave out and he slid down the wall to his haunches. He fought back tears as his friend’s anguished words washed over him, his mind pulling images of Donald’s ordeal at the hands of the Baron from the ether and displaying them vividly for him to savor. In moments like these, his species’ gifts were a curse.
*****
USS Enterprise
Federation Task Force Peacekeeper
Entering the Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Jean-Luc Picard sat ramrod straight in his command chair as the task force pushed through the diaphanous veil into the Ba’ku system. He had already steeled himself against what he was certain to find. Another starship destroyed, and his friend and lover Anij killed along with the last of her people.
‘The village,’ he thought mournfully. The beautiful, tranquil hamlet was the antithesis of everything else in his life. The idea that someone, even the Alshain, could obliterate such a peaceful and non-threatening place was almost beyond imagining. Picard noted that Troi was doing her level best not to look over at him as he wrestled with the twin demons of doubt and regret.
The other ships were spread out, maintaining visual contact with one another yet remaining far enough apart not to endanger the entire formation from a single weapons burst.
Data announced, “Sensors clearing, Captain.”
It took enormous self-discipline for Picard not to stand and pace; nothing would be served by making his agitation apparent to the crew.
With cool efficiency, the android lieutenant commander noted, “Detecting one Son’a Shrike-class battlecruiser and one Alshain Hunter-class cruiser, sir.”
“Any sign of the Gibraltar?” Riker queried.
“Not as yet, Commander. However, both the identified vessels are in close proximity and yet neither have shields raised or active weapons systems.” Data leaned forward, glancing over his shoulder at Picard and Riker. “This is somewhat atypical, considering the state of hostilities between their peoples.”
“Indeed,” Picard remarked distractedly. “Status of the Ba’ku village?”
“Indeterminate, sir. The village is on the far side of the planet from us at present.”
N’Saba looked up from his Science station, fixing the captain with his lupanoid stare. “Sir, I’m reading a complete absence of Alshain lifesigns from their vessel.”
Quirking a curious eyebrow, Picard asked, “The ship is empty?”
“No, sir. I am detecting over two dozen bio-signatures, most of them Human.”
As his console’s subspace transceiver began warble, Data said, “The Son’a ship is hailing us, Captain.”
Picard stood, “On screen, Mr. Data.”
The image coalesced into that of Captain Sandhurst sitting in the regal command chair atop it’s dais on the bridge of the Son’a warship. “Welcome to Ba’ku, Captain Picard.”
Picard was momentarily at a loss for words, but recovered gracefully after a brief pause, “Captain Sandhurst, I’m relieved to find you unharmed. Gibraltar was overdue with its regular check-in.”
Sandhurst inclined his head, “My apologies, Captain. During our reconnaissance of the system, a flotilla of Son’a and unidentified craft entered the system. When we announced our presence, the ships attacked, and were then joined by an Alshain vessel that had been lurking in-system under cloak. It turned into a bit of a free-for-all. We were ultimately able to turn the tables and successfully board and secure both warships.”
Picard’s eyes narrowed, “And where is your ship, Captain?”
Sandhurst tapped his compin. “Lt. Juneau, you can bring her out.”
“Vessel decloaking at coordinates 04-mark-118, sir.” Data said with the merest hint of surprise in his voice. “It appears to be a Federation starship, Constitution-class.”
Gibraltar emerged from behind her borrowed cloaking field in-between the captured Alshain and Son’a craft.
Looking perplexed, Picard said, “I’m more than a bit surprised, Captain. You realize, of course, that a Federation starship operating a cloaking device is a violation of the Treaty of Algeron.”
Sandhurst nodded in reply, “I do. However, under the circumstances, I felt abrogating that treaty in this limited circumstance was preferable to my battle damaged ship being destroyed by the next Alshain or Son’a craft to wander into the system.”
Picard inclined his head. “I await your report then, Captain.” Changing the subject abruptly, the senior captain pressed, “Any news as to the status of the Ba’ku village?”
His expression growing appropriately somber, Sandhurst replied, “I regret that the village was destroyed by Alshain orbital bombardment. Our away mission did manage to locate a handful of survivors, however.”
Picard’s face became a stolid mask to hide his roiling emotions as he inquired icily, “The vessel you captured is responsible for this?” Troi sat forward in her chair, her captain’s visceral response triggering a wave of anxiety in her.
“No, Captain. From what we’ve been able to determine from the Venska’s data banks, the attack on Ba’ku was carried out by a different ship. I would note that their computers do contain a wealth of information regarding the Exarchate’s battle plans for the conquest of the Briar Patch. This, of course, is in addition to a cloaking device of Klingon manufacture and the presence of a Klingon national.”
“I’d wager that data will prove most valuable, Captain. We should meet as soon as possible.”
Sandhurst offered, “I’m at your disposal.”
“My ready room in thirty minutes, then” Picard instructed, then terminated the link.
He turned to Riker, who was giving him a concerned look. The younger man wanted to say something consoling in regards to the loss of the Ba’ku village, but mere words seemed trite. Instead, he noted, “A ninety year old escort captures two heavily armed warships? That ought to be some report, Captain.”
Heading for his ready room Picard mused absently, “I suspect you’re right, Number One.”
*****
Sandhurst turned to Lar’ragos, who was giving him hesitant expression from the Son’a Tactical station. “He looked surprised,” the El Aurian stated, “And by reputation he’s one that doesn’t surprise easily.”
Giving his friend an uneasy glance, Sandhurst replied, “I only hope he finds my explanations suitably compelling.”
“If you’re going over to stand tall before the man, I’m going with you” Lar’ragos declared.
Sandhurst climbed down from the elevated chair and headed for the lift. “Why not? Misery loves company.”
Lar’ragos’ fell into step behind him. “I think we can put a sugar-coating on this bitter pill, captain-my-captain.”
“Do tell, Pava.”
*****
Will Riker and Deanna Troi were waiting when the trio from the Ru’afo materialized on Enterprises’ transporter pad. Both their eyes widened as they recognized Anij of Ba’ku standing between the two Starfleet officers.
“Captain Sandhurst, reporting as ordered,” Donald announced.
“Welcome aboard, Captain” Riker said before looking over the man clad in a Security gold undershirt who accompanied the captain. After a moment he recognized him as the officer who'd turned down the Enterprise's Security/Tactical billet less than a year before.
As Sandhurst and his party stepped down off the pad, the captain paused to look up into the larger man’s face. “Don’t worry, Commander, I left Ramirez behind this time.”
Repressing a frown, Riker remarked, “So noted, sir.” Shifting his gaze, Riker’s eyes fell on the Ba’ku woman and his face lit up. “It’s good to see you, Anij. I know the captain will be especially pleased to know that you’re well.”
She received his welcome coolly. “Very few of my people are, Commander Riker.”
Troi stepped forward, placing a hand on Anij’s shoulder, the Betazoid’s eyes radiating sympathy. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Anij.”
Replying in kind, Anij grasped Deanna’s shoulders. “Thank you, my friend. Nearly everything has been lost, or it would have been, if not for Captain Sandhurst and his crew. Once again, we have Starfleet to thank for our lives.”
Troi turned to the captain and Lar’ragos, and she seemed just about to address Sandhurst when her eyes darted towards the El Aurian man beside him, her countenance hardening. Lar’ragos responded to the accusatory glare with a broad smile. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Counselor. The captain speaks very highly of you.”
Troi extended a hand reluctantly, her dark eyes probing Pava’s face. “High praise, Mister..?”
“Lar’ragos, sir” he responded, shaking her hand lightly. “Lieutenant Pava Lar’ragos.”
Tearing her gaze away from the lieutenant, she looked to Sandhurst. “Donald, how are you?”
Smiling at his former therapist, Sandhurst answered genially, “I’m well enough, Deanna, given the circumstances. This mission has turned out to be more… complicated than I’d anticipated.”
Sparing a glance at Riker, Troi bobbed her head in acknowledgment. “Perhaps, Captain. However, you and your crew have survived the storm. That speaks to your abilities.”
“Or our luck,” Sandhurst countered.
Riker gestured towards the exit, following the group as they stepped into the corridor. Will gave Deanna a pointed look, inquiring through their mutual telepathic link, ‘What was that about? Do you know Lar’ragos from somewhere?’
‘No, it’s not that Imzadi,’ she replied. ‘What bothers me is that I can’t read him; I get nothing at all from him. Psionically, he’s a void, as if he were an android or a hologram.’
‘He’s El Aurian, Deanna. I interviewed him for our security post just six months ago.’
‘So? Guinan’s El Aurian, and I can read her just fine.’
‘Interesting…’
*****
Chapter 15
Shuttle Heyerdahl
Outbound from Planet Ba’ku
Ba’ku System
The Starfleet shuttle and the Bajora-Tavan attack ship Drosov raced upwards and away from Ba’ku in tandem. Ramirez glanced back from the cockpit into the passenger compartment, where between the two rows of seated crew Lar’ragos lay atop a litter, his vitals being closely monitored by Taiee.
The rescued Ba’ku villagers were safely ensconced aboard the Drosov and the two ships were now venturing into orbit to discover the fate of their comrades, both Bajoran and Starfleet. While Ramirez’s landing party had been completely cut off from the Gibraltar, Bral’s ship had received a garbled transmission from his squadron that suggested a multi-party battle had broken out within the star system.
Ramirez had briefly flirted with the idea of a short reconnaissance hop into orbit to take a look around. She had finally decided with Bral’s input that if the system was occupied by enemy forces, it was better to know sooner than later, and that the two craft together might help one another to evade pursuit if they rose to meet a worst-case scenario.
Though skeptical of Gibraltar’s chances in a major tactical engagement with either the Son’a or Alshain, she’d learned the hard way never to bet against the plucky little ship and her valiant crew.
Opening a channel to the Bajoran craft, Ramirez contacted Bral. “Prylar-Captain, our sensors aren’t detecting any signs of your ships.”
“We confirm your readings, Commander” Bral replied. “However, we are detecting a Bajoran comms buoy in orbit. Give me a few moments to decode its message.”
“Acknowledged, Drosov.”
“Damn,” hissed Lightner as he eyed his sensor readouts. “There’s two warships holding position approximately ten au’s out from the planet, one Alshain, the other Son’a. They’ve got Gibraltar bracketed, sir.”
Ramirez observed the ships with similar dread, but her alarm was short-lived. It became apparent after just a moment’s study that none of the ships were maneuvering, let alone firing. A more detailed scan indicated the presence of Federation species aboard both the enemy craft. She barely repressed the uncharacteristic giggle of pure relief that threatened to escape her as she muttered, “I see it, but I don’t quite believe it.”
Lightner looked over at her display, blinking confusedly at the sensor returns. “We… won?”
Shaking her head in disbelief, Ramirez assessed, “So it would appear, Ensign.”
Her comm-link came to life once again, “Drosov to Heyerdahl, we have received new orders and must depart immediately. I regret we will have to load the villagers into our escape capsules and jettison them. Please standby to carry out recovery operations.”
Looking utterly perplexed, Ramirez stammered, “Bral, wait… I don’t understand—“
“I am truly sorry, Ramirez, but apparently your people and mine have fought during our absence.” Bral sounded genuinely regretful, “I must take evasive action to avoid pursuit by your ship.”
“Damn it, Bral, can’t we talk about this? Gibraltar’s in no shape to be pursuing anyo—“
“I have my orders, Commander. I know you understand.” The Drosov veered sharply away, ejecting life pods as she maneuvered hard. The attack ship arced back towards the planet, undoubtedly intending to use its mass to shield their departure from the starship’s battered sensors.
Ramirez pounded her fists against her console in sheer frustration, uttering the most obscene Cardassian invective she could summon.
“Orders, sir?” Lightner asked meekly, clearly not wanting to incur the XO’s ire.
She sighed heavily. “Come about and start collecting those escape craft.” Shaking her head angrily, she ordered tersely, “And get me Gibraltar on subspace…”
*****
Forty-five minutes later, Ramirez stepped out of the crowded shuttle into a landing bay filled with frenetic activity. Upon making their making contact with the ship, Gibraltar had scrambled her remaining auxiliary craft, which were helping to tractor in the Bajoran life pods packed with Ba’ku survivors.
Life capsules, work-bee pods, and shuttlecraft littered the deck as crew members scrambled to attend to the disoriented and frightened refugees. Ramirez drank in the sight, thankful despite her disappointment with Bral’s flight from the system that they had finally accomplished the mission they’d set out on two and a half days earlier.
Med-techs moved to assist Taiee and the security team with Lar’ragos, transferring him from the collapsible litter onto an anti-grav gurney and spiriting him away to Sickbay.
Ramirez turned to acknowledge her away team members individually as they disembarked the shuttle, clapping them on the shoulder and offering words of praise and encouragement. Last off was a sullen looking Kuenre Shanthi, who’d said almost nothing to anyone since his outburst onboard the Drosov the day before. Dunleavy had tried to get the young man to talk, but he stubbornly refused to engage anyone about what he’d experienced at the hands of the Bajora-Tava.
Stopping him with a gentle hand around his bicep, Ramirez pulled the much taller man aside, leading him across the bustling shuttlebay deck to a relatively quiet maintenance alcove. Turning to face him, she studied the young man’s dark features. “Talk to me, Ensign.”
“I have nothing to say, sir” he replied, voice barely above a whisper.
“Kuenre, I promised I’d get you help, and I will. You don’t have to go this alone. It was my mission, and I’m responsible for everyone who participated in it. If you want to blame someone, blame me.”
He met her gaze with listless eyes, “That ship’s already gone to warp, sir.”
“Damn it, Ensign, if you won’t talk to me then at least speak with someone.”
He just stared, not blinking, not responding. Ramirez knew she should order him to Sickbay, see to it that he got a full psychological workup. She was at a loss to explain precisely why, but at the moment she couldn’t bring herself to push the issue.
On some level Liana acknowledged that she’d pulled the away team’s fat from the proverbial fire with guile and determination, but in the process this young man had been crushed underfoot. His trauma was as much due to her inattention as it was Bral’s mind probe.
“Permission to be dismissed, sir?” he croaked lethargically.
She closed her eyes, releasing her grip on his arm. “Granted.”
*****
USS Gibraltar
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Sandhurst strode into the brig, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the reduced lighting levels. He spied their Klingon prisoner sitting defiantly atop a bunk in one holding cell, while the Alshain sutahr occupied another nearby unit. In yet another cell stood Adhar Wuuten, glowering at his captors from behind an invisible containment field.
The captain approached the Son’a leader first. “Adhar, I realize I’ve no reason to expect your cooperation, but for the moment you and I have a common antagonist. This Bajoran sect abducted a member of my crew at the same time as they were betraying your alliance.” He gave Wuuten his most earnestly reasonable expression. “I’m interested in knowing where their base of operations is located.”
Wuuten’s venomous stare was accompanied by silence.
Sandhurst shook his head. “Whether you choose to believe it or not, I wasn’t lying about the reason behind our mission here. We came to rescue Son’a and Ba’ku survivors of the Alshain invasion. I understand you harbor animosity towards the Federation over the attempted Ba’ku relocation, but none of that changes the fact that your empire is gone, destroyed. You need our help, and we’re offering it. We can relocate all of you to any number of uninhabited Federation planets, and give your people a chance to rebuild.”
“Live as beggars and refugees at Federation expense?” Wuuten spat. “Never.”
Sandhurst held his gaze. “What other options are there, Adhar? Your military has been routed, your planets occupied, your colonial holdings laid waste. The Son’a Imperium now exists only as historical fact, and if the Alshain have any say in it, perhaps not even as that.”
“We will take back what is rightfully ours. A mere handful of us forged an empire out of nothing once before, and we shall do so again.”
Nodding with resignation, Sandhurst allowed, “Then I wish you well, Adhar. Once you’ve made reparations for the deaths of seven of my crew, and spent some time weighing your options in a Federation penal settlement, perhaps our offer will appear more attractive.”
Sandhurst moved on, taking up station in front of the Klingon’s cell. As he was pondering what he might say to the recalcitrant warrior, Tark approached. The flesh on the backs of the grizzled old Tellarite’s hands retained the artificial sheen of synthiskin grafts which would soon be replaced by his own healing dermis. “Progress report, Captain.”
Gesturing to the specialist manning the security console, Sandhurst had her engage the cells’ audio filters, thereby leaving their occupants effectively deaf to outside sounds. “Go ahead, Master Chief.”
“We’ve finished beaming the last of the Alshain prisoners to the surface.”
“I take it you found a suitable place for them?”
Tark grinned toothily. “Aye, sir. A remote island, hundreds of kilometers from any other land masses."
“Sounds perfect. They have ample supplies?”
“Yes, sir. Standard Starfleet survival shelters, minus the communications and replicator equipment. They won’t be comfortable, but they will be protected from the elements.”
“And food?” the captain inquired.
Holding up a foil packet, Tark snuffled with dark humor. “Starfleet emergency rations, sir. Dr. Murakawa confirmed they should prove nutritionally adequate for our furry friends.”
Sandhurst shared in the noncom’s wicked grin. “My compliments, Master Chief. You’ve constructed a living hell for our Alshain guests that nonetheless adheres to all the stipulations of the Seldonis IV Convention.”
“Yes, sir.” Tark confirmed proudly.
Inclining his head towards Yejokk, Sandhurst asked, “Anything on our Klingon friend?”
“Quite a bit, actually, sir. Our database identifies him as Yejokk, son of Drast, formerly of the House of Kett. He currently holds the rank of captain in the Defense Forces.”
“Formerly?”
“The House of Kett was dissolved following the Klingon Civil War nine years ago. Apparently, they’d sided with the Duras sisters, and had earned themselves Gowron’s wrath.” Tark paused to glance over at Yejokk, who still managed to retain some of his martial dignity, even while clad in a bland form fitting one-piece jumpsuit. “Now he’s one of General K’Vada’s cronies, sir.”
“K’Vada?” Sandhurst uttered the name like a curse. “There’s someone whose name I could go awhile without hearing again.”
“Aye, sir.” Tark agreed wholeheartedly. “We had to strip search the bastard, run a half-dozen security scans on him, and then have him checked over by Dr. Murakawa before I’d let him walk around unrestrained, even behind a forcefield.”
Sandhurst raised an eyebrow.
“Weapons, captain” Tark elaborated. “He had a pulse-bomb secreted in a fake fingertip, and his incisor teeth were loaded with injection ampoules of neurotoxin. And that’s after we found all the obvious stuff. The Tellarite bobbed his head admiringly, “I’m still not convinced we’ve found everything.”
Smirking, Sandhurst deadpanned, “So, what I hear you saying is he might be dangerous?”
“Just a bit, sir.”
Sandhurst turned to examine the Klingon, who made a show of ignoring the both of them. “Any point in my talking to him?”
“None, sir.”
“Didn’t think so. Anything else, Master Chief?”
“That’s it, sir.”
“Thank you,” Sandhurst said, dismissing the man to return to his duties. Pausing thoughtfully, Sandhurst examined the three threats currently on display in the holding cells. After a few moments, he tapped his combadge. “Lieutenant Ashok, I know you’re shorthanded as it is, but I’m going to need two of your deflector-shield specialists to join me aboard the Alshain ship in ten minutes. Have them meet me in engineering.”
“Aye, sir” the Bolian replied sullenly.
*****
Sandhurst pressed the door chime for the third time, reminding himself that his friend had just undergone reconstructive surgery in Sickbay only fifteen hour earlier. In deference to the dozen or so Ba’ku refugees, compounded by injured Gibraltar crew as well as wounded Son’a, Tarlac, Ellora and Alshain prisoners, Dr. Murakawa had granted Lar’ragos permission to recuperate in his own quarters.
Lar’ragos’ voice, sounding weak but still recognizably his own issued forth from the panel. “Come in.”
Stepping into the sizeable compartment, Sandhurst was surprised to find Lar’ragos awake, lying back in a reclining chair, a hardbound book resting in his lap. Looking curiously at his friend, Sandhurst remarked, “You didn’t hear the door?”
Clad in a loose-fitting sleep tunic and resting under a blanket, Pava shook his head. “I heard it, Donald. I just wasn’t up for company.”
Taken aback by the El Aurian’s demeanor, the captain turned towards to the door. “My apologies, I’ll come back another time.”
“No, it’s fine.” Lar’ragos said tiredly.
Sandhurst shrugged, turning back around to examine the cabin and its contents. Senior officer’s quarters, on the leading edge of the saucer, offered a rectangular viewport that now presented a view of the surrounding nebula. Upon first seeing it days earlier, the captain had thought the Briar Patch to be spectacularly beautiful. Now, though, he saw only an occluding mass, capable of hiding endless numbers of enemy craft from his sensors. There was no beauty here, just death and desolation.
“You’re looking better than I expected, considering your injuries,” Sandhurst said vacantly, still transfixed by the nebula’s intoxicating view.
“Higher metabolism,” Lar’ragos remarked, “Faster recovery time than you puny Humans.”
Tearing himself away from the viewport, Sandhurst walked a slow circuit around the cabin, inspecting the various baubles and artifacts that represented cultures from across the galaxy collected by Pava over the centuries. Among the memorabilia was an old-style framed photograph, showing an even younger looking Lar’ragos shoulder-to-shoulder with a group of burly men, all dressed in some sort of military fatigues. The inscription on the plaque read: 507th Royal Fusiliers, and was followed by a quote from the 20th century Terran writer, George Orwell – ‘People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.’
Behind another, much larger frame on the inside bulkhead was a tattered and singed Federation flag. Gesturing to the shabby yet still-noble standard, Sandhurst asked, “What does this represent to you, Pava?”
“Stupidity and big cats,” Lar’ragos answered cryptically.
“The Federation,” Sandhurst clarified, “What does it represent to you?”
An exasperated Lar’ragos snapped closed his worn copy of Koloth’s Bloodwine in a Time of Honor, and threw the dog-eared edition onto an end table with a loud clap. “I think we covered this subject about fifteen minutes after we met at the academy, Donald.”
“Humor me.”
“Fine,” Lar’ragos muttered, collecting his thoughts. “The Federation represents hope. The hope of peace, of enlightenment, of cooperation between species… rather than the chaos, bloodshed, and imperialism that stains much of the rest of our galaxy.”
“And where does torture fall into the Federation’s credo?”
Lar’ragos sighed, finally intuiting where the conversation was inevitably headed. “I didn’t torture anyone. I immobilized the boy, and convinced him that I was certainly capable of torturing him. He offered up his information freely.”
Sandhurst merely offered a cynical smirk, calling Lar’ragos’ attention to his own statement’s hypocrisy.
“I didn’t have a lot of options, Donald” Lar’ragos said defensively. “Believe me, it wasn’t my first choice. And lest you forget, they ambushed us.”
“Irrelevant,” Sandhurst countered. “That kind of behavior is absolutely unacceptable, and I won’t have someone who practices it aboard my ship.”
“You’d rather I’d have done nothing and allowed our people to remain prisoners of the Bajorans?” Lar’ragos struggled out of the chair with a concerted effort, his face pinched with pain at the exertion. “I saved the damn away team… I saved the mission!”
“You crippled a young man during his people’s First Contact with the Federation, Pava. You dishonored your uniform, this ship, and you spit in my face while doing it.”
“You?” Lar’ragos snarled, “What the hell does any of this have to do with you?”
Sandhurst turned so quickly that Lar’ragos hadn’t quite processed what was happening before the captain had him pinned to the viewport, Donald’s face only inches away from his own. “You don’t know what the Baron did to me, Pava! You don’t know the half of it. He turned me inside out, crushed my mind and my spirit… and the thought… the thought that my friend, my oldest and dearest friend is capable of that same kind of inhuman savagery makes me sick beyond words!”
Wheeling around, Sandhurst turned his back on Lar’ragos, unable to look at him any longer. “This is your last warning, Lieutenant. If anything even remotely similar to this happens again, I’ll see that you spend the next century of your extended lifespan cooling your heels in the stockade on Jaros II.”
A pale and trembling Lar’ragos watched his captain and friend stalk out of his quarters before the El Aurian’s legs gave out and he slid down the wall to his haunches. He fought back tears as his friend’s anguished words washed over him, his mind pulling images of Donald’s ordeal at the hands of the Baron from the ether and displaying them vividly for him to savor. In moments like these, his species’ gifts were a curse.
*****
USS Enterprise
Federation Task Force Peacekeeper
Entering the Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Jean-Luc Picard sat ramrod straight in his command chair as the task force pushed through the diaphanous veil into the Ba’ku system. He had already steeled himself against what he was certain to find. Another starship destroyed, and his friend and lover Anij killed along with the last of her people.
‘The village,’ he thought mournfully. The beautiful, tranquil hamlet was the antithesis of everything else in his life. The idea that someone, even the Alshain, could obliterate such a peaceful and non-threatening place was almost beyond imagining. Picard noted that Troi was doing her level best not to look over at him as he wrestled with the twin demons of doubt and regret.
The other ships were spread out, maintaining visual contact with one another yet remaining far enough apart not to endanger the entire formation from a single weapons burst.
Data announced, “Sensors clearing, Captain.”
It took enormous self-discipline for Picard not to stand and pace; nothing would be served by making his agitation apparent to the crew.
With cool efficiency, the android lieutenant commander noted, “Detecting one Son’a Shrike-class battlecruiser and one Alshain Hunter-class cruiser, sir.”
“Any sign of the Gibraltar?” Riker queried.
“Not as yet, Commander. However, both the identified vessels are in close proximity and yet neither have shields raised or active weapons systems.” Data leaned forward, glancing over his shoulder at Picard and Riker. “This is somewhat atypical, considering the state of hostilities between their peoples.”
“Indeed,” Picard remarked distractedly. “Status of the Ba’ku village?”
“Indeterminate, sir. The village is on the far side of the planet from us at present.”
N’Saba looked up from his Science station, fixing the captain with his lupanoid stare. “Sir, I’m reading a complete absence of Alshain lifesigns from their vessel.”
Quirking a curious eyebrow, Picard asked, “The ship is empty?”
“No, sir. I am detecting over two dozen bio-signatures, most of them Human.”
As his console’s subspace transceiver began warble, Data said, “The Son’a ship is hailing us, Captain.”
Picard stood, “On screen, Mr. Data.”
The image coalesced into that of Captain Sandhurst sitting in the regal command chair atop it’s dais on the bridge of the Son’a warship. “Welcome to Ba’ku, Captain Picard.”
Picard was momentarily at a loss for words, but recovered gracefully after a brief pause, “Captain Sandhurst, I’m relieved to find you unharmed. Gibraltar was overdue with its regular check-in.”
Sandhurst inclined his head, “My apologies, Captain. During our reconnaissance of the system, a flotilla of Son’a and unidentified craft entered the system. When we announced our presence, the ships attacked, and were then joined by an Alshain vessel that had been lurking in-system under cloak. It turned into a bit of a free-for-all. We were ultimately able to turn the tables and successfully board and secure both warships.”
Picard’s eyes narrowed, “And where is your ship, Captain?”
Sandhurst tapped his compin. “Lt. Juneau, you can bring her out.”
“Vessel decloaking at coordinates 04-mark-118, sir.” Data said with the merest hint of surprise in his voice. “It appears to be a Federation starship, Constitution-class.”
Gibraltar emerged from behind her borrowed cloaking field in-between the captured Alshain and Son’a craft.
Looking perplexed, Picard said, “I’m more than a bit surprised, Captain. You realize, of course, that a Federation starship operating a cloaking device is a violation of the Treaty of Algeron.”
Sandhurst nodded in reply, “I do. However, under the circumstances, I felt abrogating that treaty in this limited circumstance was preferable to my battle damaged ship being destroyed by the next Alshain or Son’a craft to wander into the system.”
Picard inclined his head. “I await your report then, Captain.” Changing the subject abruptly, the senior captain pressed, “Any news as to the status of the Ba’ku village?”
His expression growing appropriately somber, Sandhurst replied, “I regret that the village was destroyed by Alshain orbital bombardment. Our away mission did manage to locate a handful of survivors, however.”
Picard’s face became a stolid mask to hide his roiling emotions as he inquired icily, “The vessel you captured is responsible for this?” Troi sat forward in her chair, her captain’s visceral response triggering a wave of anxiety in her.
“No, Captain. From what we’ve been able to determine from the Venska’s data banks, the attack on Ba’ku was carried out by a different ship. I would note that their computers do contain a wealth of information regarding the Exarchate’s battle plans for the conquest of the Briar Patch. This, of course, is in addition to a cloaking device of Klingon manufacture and the presence of a Klingon national.”
“I’d wager that data will prove most valuable, Captain. We should meet as soon as possible.”
Sandhurst offered, “I’m at your disposal.”
“My ready room in thirty minutes, then” Picard instructed, then terminated the link.
He turned to Riker, who was giving him a concerned look. The younger man wanted to say something consoling in regards to the loss of the Ba’ku village, but mere words seemed trite. Instead, he noted, “A ninety year old escort captures two heavily armed warships? That ought to be some report, Captain.”
Heading for his ready room Picard mused absently, “I suspect you’re right, Number One.”
*****
Sandhurst turned to Lar’ragos, who was giving him hesitant expression from the Son’a Tactical station. “He looked surprised,” the El Aurian stated, “And by reputation he’s one that doesn’t surprise easily.”
Giving his friend an uneasy glance, Sandhurst replied, “I only hope he finds my explanations suitably compelling.”
“If you’re going over to stand tall before the man, I’m going with you” Lar’ragos declared.
Sandhurst climbed down from the elevated chair and headed for the lift. “Why not? Misery loves company.”
Lar’ragos’ fell into step behind him. “I think we can put a sugar-coating on this bitter pill, captain-my-captain.”
“Do tell, Pava.”
*****
Will Riker and Deanna Troi were waiting when the trio from the Ru’afo materialized on Enterprises’ transporter pad. Both their eyes widened as they recognized Anij of Ba’ku standing between the two Starfleet officers.
“Captain Sandhurst, reporting as ordered,” Donald announced.
“Welcome aboard, Captain” Riker said before looking over the man clad in a Security gold undershirt who accompanied the captain. After a moment he recognized him as the officer who'd turned down the Enterprise's Security/Tactical billet less than a year before.
As Sandhurst and his party stepped down off the pad, the captain paused to look up into the larger man’s face. “Don’t worry, Commander, I left Ramirez behind this time.”
Repressing a frown, Riker remarked, “So noted, sir.” Shifting his gaze, Riker’s eyes fell on the Ba’ku woman and his face lit up. “It’s good to see you, Anij. I know the captain will be especially pleased to know that you’re well.”
She received his welcome coolly. “Very few of my people are, Commander Riker.”
Troi stepped forward, placing a hand on Anij’s shoulder, the Betazoid’s eyes radiating sympathy. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Anij.”
Replying in kind, Anij grasped Deanna’s shoulders. “Thank you, my friend. Nearly everything has been lost, or it would have been, if not for Captain Sandhurst and his crew. Once again, we have Starfleet to thank for our lives.”
Troi turned to the captain and Lar’ragos, and she seemed just about to address Sandhurst when her eyes darted towards the El Aurian man beside him, her countenance hardening. Lar’ragos responded to the accusatory glare with a broad smile. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Counselor. The captain speaks very highly of you.”
Troi extended a hand reluctantly, her dark eyes probing Pava’s face. “High praise, Mister..?”
“Lar’ragos, sir” he responded, shaking her hand lightly. “Lieutenant Pava Lar’ragos.”
Tearing her gaze away from the lieutenant, she looked to Sandhurst. “Donald, how are you?”
Smiling at his former therapist, Sandhurst answered genially, “I’m well enough, Deanna, given the circumstances. This mission has turned out to be more… complicated than I’d anticipated.”
Sparing a glance at Riker, Troi bobbed her head in acknowledgment. “Perhaps, Captain. However, you and your crew have survived the storm. That speaks to your abilities.”
“Or our luck,” Sandhurst countered.
Riker gestured towards the exit, following the group as they stepped into the corridor. Will gave Deanna a pointed look, inquiring through their mutual telepathic link, ‘What was that about? Do you know Lar’ragos from somewhere?’
‘No, it’s not that Imzadi,’ she replied. ‘What bothers me is that I can’t read him; I get nothing at all from him. Psionically, he’s a void, as if he were an android or a hologram.’
‘He’s El Aurian, Deanna. I interviewed him for our security post just six months ago.’
‘So? Guinan’s El Aurian, and I can read her just fine.’
‘Interesting…’
*****
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 15
Sandhurst's torture issues definitely rear their head here. To be honest, Lar'rago's actions, while harsh, I think were understandable. It is also interesting that Deanna cannot 'read' Pava--that would definitely disconcert her somewhat--she doesn't like not having that particular edge in her conversations.
Sandhurst's torture issues definitely rear their head here. To be honest, Lar'rago's actions, while harsh, I think were understandable. It is also interesting that Deanna cannot 'read' Pava--that would definitely disconcert her somewhat--she doesn't like not having that particular edge in her conversations.
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 15
I too loved the scene between Sandhurst and Pava. It was powerful and I thought he reacted very unpredictable yet believeable. But what a great job to maintain the history of these characters.
Also believe it or not I had no problems whatsoever with your use of the Next Generation characters here. I actually liked them this time around. And Troi's revelation is obviously going to raise a whole lot of questions.
I know it's not like me to be so positive but I really couldn't find anything to criticize on this occacsion ... maybe next time
I too loved the scene between Sandhurst and Pava. It was powerful and I thought he reacted very unpredictable yet believeable. But what a great job to maintain the history of these characters.
Also believe it or not I had no problems whatsoever with your use of the Next Generation characters here. I actually liked them this time around. And Troi's revelation is obviously going to raise a whole lot of questions.
I know it's not like me to be so positive but I really couldn't find anything to criticize on this occacsion ... maybe next time
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