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ST: Gibraltar - Prophets and Loss

Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 16

Just finished reading this story today and it's a beauty. I loved the escape pod gambit early on and the action only got better from there. I'd also like to echo what other people have pointed out about the captain's argument with Picard. It's good to see characters willing to speak their mind to captains with a pedigree like Picard, and you've really shown us why Sandhurst inspires such loyalty in his crew.

My favorite section was, without a doubt, when Sandhurst confronted Pava about his torture of the boy -- a powerful moment that really laid bare the motivations driving both men. Most Trek fiction has cool battles, interesting aliens, and awesome technology, but not a lot of Trek fic deals with such pressing, visceral issues with the depth that you do.

Wherever you take this story -- and I don't doubt that you've got plenty of ideas in mind -- you can count me in for the ride.
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 16

Thanks, tigerstyle. I very much appreciate the kind words, and I'm glad you've taken the time to read Prophets, as well as the other Gibraltar stories.
 
Prophets and Loss - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

USS Gibraltar
Federation Task Force Peacekeeper
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)


Ramirez found him on Deck 14, leading a repair team in the engineering access shafts that ran parallel to the starboard nacelle’s plasma transfer conduits. She squatted down, calling into the Jefferies tube, “Captain, a moment of your time?”

Sandhurst acknowledged the request, carefully backing out of the conduit and squeezing past the other engineers. He had forsaken his duty uniform for a bright yellow non-conductive engineering jumpsuit. Clambering awkwardly out of the hatch, Sandhurst directed a questioning expression at his exec.

“Ashok reports nearly all necessary repairs have been completed, sir. Everything that remains is largely cosmetic, and can wait for our next starbase layover. We’ll be ready to get underway within the hour.”

“But to where?” Sandhurst asked sourly.

Smiling in response, Ramirez held up an isolinear chip. “The Son’a computers proved more forthcoming than our prisoners, sir. We found coordinates to a single Bajora-Tavan asteroid base. The Son’a surmised the Bajorans had numerous outposts scattered throughout the Briar Patch, but this was the only one the Bajorans let them know about.”

Sandhurst took the chip in hand, “Do we have Plazzi to thank for this?”

She chuckled, “Mr. Geology? No, sir, this comes courtesy of young Ensign Shanthi and the Son’a defector, Gallatin. Apparently, computer science is one of Shanthi’s specialties.”

Nodding appreciatively, Sandhurst mused, “Kid’s paying off already.” Raising his eyes to meet his first officer’s, he asked, “And how is Kuenre doing?”

Ramirez’s smile faded, “Not so well, sir. I’ve tried to talk to him, Plazzi’s tried, and I even ordered him over to Enterprise to meet with Commander Troi. The counselor couldn’t be too specific without violating confidentiality, but she says he’s fit for duty, despite having some lingering emotional trauma from his experience with the Bajoran mind probe.”

Pursing his lips, Sandhurst looked thoughtful. “That’s unfortunate. I hope he can get past this. From what I’ve observed so far, he’s got a promising career ahead of him.”

“I’d agree with that assessment, Captain.” Ramirez gave Sandhurst a lingering, meaningful look. “But in the past two months he’s suffered the loss of the first ship he was assigned to, the death of his lover, and now this. I wondered if someone else speaking with Shanthi might be more effective. Someone who’s been through something similar and survived…” She let the idea hang there in silence, having baited the hook nicely.

“I’ll… consider it, Commander” was all she could get from Sandhurst on the subject. The captain glanced at the padd in his hand, then knelt down at the mouth of the hatchway. He called inside, “Chief, here’s the rest of the specs on the plasma induction rig. I think we’re over the hump with the damned thing. You shouldn’t have any more problems.” He tossed the padd inside the Jefferies tube to the crew.

“Did you have a talk with Lar’ragos, sir?”

He nodded slowly, rising to his feet. “Of a sorts. I think we’re clear on the subject.”

“In his defense, sir, he got the job done. Only later we’d found out that Bral had one of his teams staking out the shuttle. If Lightner and I had tried to get aboard, we’d have been captured as well.”

“Your reasoning is noted, understood, and dismissed as immaterial, Exec.”

She looked surprised by the rebuke. “Sir?”

“He’s a Starfleet officer, Commander. There are two hundred years of rules, regulations, and ethics behind this organization, and they exist for a reason. Lar’ragos thinks he can cherry-pick those that suit him and discard the rest.”

Ramirez raised an eyebrow. “Like my taking hostages, or like you threatening to kill members of Sutahr R’Voss’ crew after you beamed them off his bridge, Captain?”

Sandhurst didn’t have an answer for that, but his eyes flamed.

“All three of us have compromised our values and ethics on this mission, but for some reason you’re holding Lar’ragos to a higher standard." The iron behind her eyes softened somewhat, “I know you’ve put him on a pedestal since your academy days, Captain, but those days are long past. You’re not cadets anymore, and despite his age and his experience, he’s your subordinate now. He’s not Human, but Pava is most definitely fallible. Don’t crucify him for failing to live up to your unrealistic expectations.”

The anger in Sandhurst’s expression flickered and died, leaving him looking gloomily thoughtful. He turned, heading for the nearest turbolift. Calling back over his shoulder, he announced, “I’ll be on the bridge in thirty minutes. Have all hands prepare for departure.”

*****

USS Sutherland
Federation Task Force Fulcrum
Approaching the Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)


Sam Lavelle leaned in towards Elizabeth Shelby, observing a low tone to keep their conversation confined to the command well. “You sure about this?”

She nodded wordlessly, reviewing the latest status reports from the other task force vessels on a padd.

“There’s still time to call this off,” he pressed.

She turned slowly to look at him, her expression guarded. “Sam, there are Starfleet officers in there who are fighting for their lives against the Alshain. I won’t abandon them.”

“I wasn’t suggesting turning our backs on our comrades, Captain. I was asking if the tactic you’ve chosen to employ here isn’t more than is warranted… more than is justified by the circumstances?”

Averting her gaze to stare at the orange/crimson cloud on the main viewer, she murmured. “Give me another option, Sam.”

He dipped his head, then raised it to examine the image of the approaching nebula for himself. “I… don’t have one.”

“Exactly, Commander,” she said, sounding oddly distant. “This constitutes one of those ‘hard choices’ they always told us about at the academy in those neat, clean little prepackaged scenarios. Only this one isn’t neat or clean, it’s dirty as hell.” Her jaw set stubbornly, and her concentration seemed to bore a hole through the viewscreen. “And if I can’t make the big decisions, than I have no right to sit in this chair.”

From behind them at the Tactical station, Sito announced, “Sensors now picking up an additional five threat vessels lurking in the periphery of the nebula, Captain. That makes a total of thirty-four ships, in addition to five automated weapons platforms, and one-hundred seventy-one antimatter mines.”

“Open a channel to the Alshain, Sito.”

“Channel open, sir.”

Shelby suppressed the urge to stand, as Picard might have under similar circumstances. She wanted the enemy to see her ensconced among her crew, seated and ready for what was to come.

“Alshain Starforce, this is Captain Elizabeth Shelby of the Federation starship Sutherland. We have been dispatched to locate and retrieve the Federation task force that entered the Briar Patch a week ago. I would respectfully request that you to stand down and allow us safe passage so that we may accomplish our mission and leave you in peace.”

As she awaited a reply, Shelby hoped against reason that the response would be favorable, that the commander on the other end of the transmission would value the lives of his or her people more than the Exarchate’s stance on the ongoing conflict. That, she knew in her bones, was asking for too much.

Sito announced stoically, “We’re receiving a reply, Captain.”

“On screen, Lieutenant.”

The image of a tall, regally fearsome looking Alshain appeared on the viewer. His dark military uniform seemed to accentuate his thick black fur, streaked with grey. Shelby recognized his rank insignia as that of nauarch, an admiral in the Starforce. However, his uniform was noticeably devoid of the typical ancestral medals and awards that were encouraged by the sept familial systems.

“I am Nauarch Edim S’Elani, leader of the 5th Squadron, 3rd Fleet of the Alshain Starforce. I too would rather avoid unnecessary bloodshed here today, Captain. Be warned, however, that my orders are to prohibit the entry of any more Starfleet vessels into the Klach D'Kel Brakt.” S’Elani inclined his head fractionally, his predator’s eyes focused intently on Shelby, “I intend to follow my orders, into the grave if necessary.”

Shelby swallowed hard, her gorge rising as the moment of truth quickly approached. She stood, bracing her legs and maintaining eye contact with S’Elani. “Nauarch, I am certain your vessels are crewed by many fine people, people who deserve to go on living past this day. Please do not misunderstand, I am not attempting to threaten you, and I am not blustering for the sake of hubris. You simply cannot win here today. Events have been set in motion that will ensure our victory, but that victory will come at a terrible price.”

S’Elani’s mouth drew into the Alshain approximation of a smile, a discomforting sight for other species who perceived only the rows of canid teeth on display. “I’d much rather you were raging and slinging idle threats, Captain. Under those circumstances, I’d probably believe you were just trying to frighten us with your words. The fact that you seem so terribly uncomfortable with all this leads me to think that you are speaking truth.” S’Elani drew himself up to his full height, “Regardless, I am charged with maintaining this blockade, and my orders care nothing for my personal feelings towards this mission or the welfare of the crews under my command.”

The officer at the Helm console noted, “Captain, we will be within Alshain weapons range in twenty seconds.”

“Notify all task force ships in the first wave to drop out of warp, Mr. Lavelle.”

“Aye, Captain.”

As Sutherland and her escorts dropped to impulse speed, Shelby tried one last time to avert tragedy. “Nauarch, please… just turn around and take your ships home. I don’t want this, not for us, and certainly not for you.”

“We both have duty to answer to, Captain,” S’Elani answered firmly. “Our paths here would seem clear. It will be an honor to do battle with you, Captain Shelby. As the Klingons are so fond of saying, may you die well.”

“And you…” Shelby replied, almost choking on the words as the communication terminated.

She had killed before, both face-to-face and in ship-to-ship combat. But never like this. Never with so much calculated forethought and preparation. It seemed like cheating, in a way. Stubborn and arrogant as the Alshain could be, they were not the soulless Jem’Hadar or the oily, atavistic Cardassians.

Looking back at Lavelle, Shelby said quietly. “Remove the safety interlocks, Commander. Second wave will continue as planned.”

Lavelle took some measure of pride in the fact that his voice remained even as he replied in the affirmative, and his hands did not shake when he moved to input the appropriate commands.

*****

Alshain Predator-class Battlecruiser Ancestral Fury
Blockading the Nedric Strait
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)


“Nauarch, the Federation squadron has dropped to impulse just outside our weapons range. Sensors indicate nine starships, and five smaller craft. Their second formation is still on approach at Warp 6.7, and appears to be comprised of two dozen vessels.”

S’Elani absorbed this, his mind racing with tactical permutations on Shelby’s opening gambit. “They’re trying to draw us out. They want us to break defensive formation and engage their first wave so that their follow on ships can punch through the gaps in our line. Inform all vessels to hold position and await further orders.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

The admiral watched with keen interest while counter to his expectations, the Starfleet task force vessels bunched together tightly, rather than spreading out to tempt his ships into breaking formation and making an ill-advised attack run.

Suddenly, the Alshain sensor net began to fray, assaulted by the combined interference of Shelby’s first wave of ships. A volley of torpedoes from the Starfleet task force that erupted in a magnificent electro-magnetic storm between the two battle fleets only made matters worse. “Nauarch, our scanning capacity has been reduced by 3/5’s.”

Moving around his bridge to examine the readings for himself, S’Elani fumed, “They’re trying to blind us to hide the strength and intentions of their second wave of ships. Have all vessels and the weapons platforms standby to open fire. They may try to send a formation of drones or decoys against us first, so make sure our gunners exercise strict discretion.”

As his crew scurried to carry out his orders, S’Elani was torn between the excitement of impending battle and the nagging doubt instilled in him by Captain Shelby’s words. Having clawed his way up the ranks of the Starforce, despite his having come from a lower-middle ranked sept, S’Elani had been denied leadership of one of the battle fleets that had shattered the Son’a defensive lines, finding himself instead commanding a motley assortment of ships originally tasked as a ready reserve force. Now, finally, he was leading men in battle against a worthy opponent, an action that he hoped would accrue both he and his sept many honors.

“Sir…” the sensor-operator’s voice was tinged with alarm, “The second formation of Federation ships is not dropping out of warp. They are still on an intercept course. If they continue, they will converge with our formation in fifteen seconds.”

S’Elani stared at the unlikely tactic as the oncoming element of Federation craft became visible through the surrounding sensor interference. “Are they mad?” he wondered aloud. “Unless they’ve become inexplicably suicidal, I think…” then, remembering Shelby’s prescient admonition, the nauarch was torn by sudden dread, “Fire! All ships and platforms, fire every weapon and brace for impact. Shields to full!”

Twenty-five asteroids, measuring between Class-2 and Class-4 in mass, had been accelerated to warp speed through the ingenious use of warp-sustainer engines and the warp-tugs provided by the expansive asteroid mining operation located in the Deltived system. Once brought up to speed, the sustainer engines implanted on their surfaces kept the giant rocks at warp and on course for the Briar Patch. Sensor decoys placed on them gave off erroneous sensor returns, making each look like a certain class of known Starfleet vessel.

Now, as the enormous chunks of planetary debris bore down on the tight-knit Alshain formation at the mouth of the Nedric Strait, the quantum warheads buried deep within each of them detonated. The result was that the blockaded area was suddenly awash in tens of thousands of hurtling pieces of rock traveling at hyper-relativistic speeds. Even if the Alshain had activated their navigational deflectors in concert, such a massive onslaught of destructive mass would have easily overwhelmed them. With all power dedicated to their weapons and shields, the Alshain formation was essentially naked before the force of the oncoming storm.

The Starforce vessels opened up with everything they had, for all the good it did them. It was like firing a shotgun into a descending avalanche of rock, a desperately empty gesture. The warp velocity shards sliced effortlessly through their shields, rending ships apart with unbelievable ease and engulfing the minefield in a fratricidal spasm of mutual annihilation. In less than one one-hundredth of a second, thirty one Alshain warships, all five weapons platforms, and ninety-six percent of the minefield had been completely destroyed. The three remaining ships were holed-through, spilling atmosphere and radiation into the void as they hung uselessly in space, defenseless.

*****

“Send to all ships,” Shelby said as she surveyed the carnage on the main viewer. “Approach with caution to collect survivors and deactivate the remainder of the minefield. Inform Admiral Jellico that we’ve broken the blockade.”

*****

USS Enterprise
Federation Task Force Peacekeeper
Ba’ku System
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)


Picard’s finger hovered mere centimeters from the door chime, his heart thudding so loudly in his chest he feared it would be audible to the crew members passing by in the corridor.

He wanted desperately to see her, to hold and comfort her. Despite those yearnings, another part of him dreaded their reunion. Anij’s home had been wiped out, her species very nearly rendered extinct, and Jean-Luc Picard had as much as allowed it to happen.

Had he wanted to badly enough, Picard knew he could have broken with his orders and proceeded to the Ba’ku system weeks ago. It would have cost him his captaincy, to be sure, but he was certain the Enterprise and her exceptional crew could have held the Alshain at bay long enough to rescue the planet’s inhabitants. And now, in light of his actions as task force commander, Picard would likely still lose command of his beloved ship, and that failure would burn alongside the destruction of the Ba’ku on the pyre of his indecision.

It was, perhaps, his own gnawing sense of regret over this tragedy that had convinced him to allow Sandhurst to go in search of Pell Ojana. As much as he himself had wanted to come to Anij’s rescue, he felt he could not in good conscience hold the Gibraltar’s captain in check. Damn the cloaking device. Damn protocol and precedent. If he could help Sandhurst rescue a Starfleet officer who was coincidently Donald’s former lover, then perhaps at least one positive thing might yet emerge from this calamity.

Gathering his nerve, Picard pressed the button. Anij’s voice issued forth a moment later, bidding him to enter.

He stepped inside, finding her standing silhouetted against the viewport, every bit as radiantly beautiful as he remembered. At a loss for anything else to say, Picard said, “I hope the accommodations are to your liking.”

She moved toward him suddenly, hugging him tightly in an urgent embrace that was more visceral need than passion. “Oh, Jean-Luc” she murmured. “They’re gone. All of them, dead.” The brave façade she’d worn for the others collapsed in the heat of Picard’s presence. “I waited for you, but you never came…”

He closed his eyes, willing himself to be strong for her. He owed her that much, at least.

*****

USS Gibraltar

Responding to Dr. Murakawa’s summons, Taiee walked into Sickbay, experiencing a momentary flutter in her stomach as she reminded herself that this was no longer her domain. The fact that Murakawa had been proven right in regards to Taiee’s dependence upon the medical holograms only salted the wound to the lieutenant’s pride.

Murakawa was waiting for her at the door to the CMO’s office. Gesturing for Taiee to enter first, Murakawa followed the nurse practitioner inside, unexpectedly taking a seat in a chair on the guests’ side of the desk. Hesitating, Taiee gave the doctor a confused look. Murakawa merely smiled patiently at her, “It’s your office, Lieutenant.”

Taiee sat gingerly in her chair, looking almost as if she expected some kind of booby-trap. None was forthcoming, and Taiee gestured to the padd in Murakawa’s hand. “Something you needed me to see, Doctor?”

Nodding, Murakawa elaborated, “It’s your department’s personnel files, Lieutenant. I was trying to chase down the details behind some glaring discrepancies that I’ve discovered in your Sickbay staffing.”

‘So there it is,’ Taiee thought sourly, ‘The sound of the other shoe dropping.’ Carefully reigning in her response, she replied as evenly as she could manage, “And what are those, Doctor?”

Murakawa shook her head in evident disbelief. Setting the padd on the table top between them, she pushed it across to Taiee. “These aren’t the people I’ve been working with the past two days while you’ve been planetside.”

Taiee’s confusion only deepened, and her irritation percolated to the surface. “Explain yourself, Doctor” she snapped tiredly.

Turning to face the transparent partition, Murakawa gestured to the staff in the main Sickbay ward that were presently caring for Elloran, Tarlac, Son’a, Ba’ku, and Alshain patients under the watchful eye of the security division. “From their service jackets, your staff appears to be made up of some very unremarkable personnel, some of whom appeared to be on their last legs in Starfleet Medical.”

Leaning forward, Taiee was about to launch into a vehement defense of her people, but Murakawa’s curious smile brought her up short.

The physician gave Taiee a strangely approving look. “Your people are good, Lieutenant, quite good. Their triage work and mass casualty typing are outstanding. However, according to their performance evaluations from their most recent assignments prior to Gibraltar, most of them were listed as merely meeting their basic service requirements. I’m trying to figure out how such people have unexpectedly gelled into a first rate medical team.”

“We train hard, Doctor, and this ship has seen it’s fair share of action.”

”No doubt,” Murakawa responded. “That being said, the only common denominator I’m able to come up with in this equation… is you.”

“Me?” Taiee frowned, uncertain as to where this was headed.

“Look, I still think I’m right about your over-reliance on the EMH, but I’ve found out that in all other respects, I’ve underestimated you, Lieutenant, and I’m sorry. I’d become so wrapped up in trying to mold you into my idea of the perfect Chief Medical Officer that I didn’t take the time to appreciate the effect you’ve had on this ship as a whole, and your department in particular. I’ve discovered that to this crew, you’re quite a bit more than just the CMO. In fact, I’ve heard more than one person describe you as being the emotional center to the ship, something like a combination of den mother and counselor.”

“I… uh... thank you” stammered Taiee, thrown by conversation’s sudden shift in direction.

“Of course,” Murakawa amended, “I’m still of the opinion that as good as you are, you could be better.”

Taiee reddened slightly, “I’d come to the uncomfortable realization that you were correct about the EMH, Doctor. Down on the planet, I had almost none of the proper equipment to conduct surgery on wounds as severe as Lar’ragos’, and I kept having to remind myself that I couldn’t have the hologram advise me, or step in to take over.”

Murakawa nodded, “Listen, I apologize for inflicting the 24/QPS on you and your staff so suddenly. I still believe you and they are more than capable of completing that evaluation scenario, if you put your minds to it. That being said, it’s not a requirement. As it appears this mission is coming to a end soon, I’m turning control of the ship’s medical department back over to you. Until I leave, I’ll remain in an advisory capacity, assisting where needed.”

Generating her first genuine smile since before the away mission to Ba’ku, Taiee said, “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate the kind words, as well as the firm kick in my complacency.”

*****

Ministry of War
Central Ministries Complex, Governance Archology
Alshain Proper


Nauarch Yol A’Yaud paused for the briefest of moments before delivering the report. He knew it would spell the end to his illustrious military career, and perhaps his life as well. Girding himself for the exarch’s reaction, A’Yaud announced, “I have… unfortunate news from the Nedric Strait, Sire.”

Jedalla, now dressed in the traditional robes of his august station, held very still in his seat at the head of the massive briefing table, his ears twitching ever so slightly as the hair on his muzzle bristled. “What news is this, Nauarch?”

“Apparently, the 5th of the 3rd has been completely wiped out by the follow-on Starfleet task force. We’re still not certain precisely how.”

“Wiped out,” Jedalla echoed with disbelief. “Over thirty warships, supported by five heavy-yield weapons platforms and backed by your precious minefield. All gone, you say?”

A’Yaud blanched beneath his fur, “Yes, Sire. Unfortunately so.”

Jedalla’s calm only set A’Yaud more on edge. “How could this happen, Nauarch? How could you let this happen?”

“Until I have more information, Eminence, I cannot answer that.” A’Yaud approached the exarch, kneeling next to his seat and extending his head forward, bearing his open throat to Jedalla. It was the ultimate sign of submission in their culture. “I beg of you, Sire, to make it a swift death.”

Jedalla gestured for his senior-most admiral to rise. “Spilling your blood won’t bring back our fleet, A’Yaud. The Federation will be made to pay for this crime, as well as their other transgressions against Greater Alshain.” With a note of weariness, the exarch settled slowly back in his chair. “Prepare the strike package we discussed earlier, Nauarch. I wish to see Federation worlds burning by nightfall tomorrow.”

*****
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 17

Woo-hoo! Space claymores! Take that, space-wolves!

I see now that I was mistaken when I suggested that the story had come to its natural conclusion. Looking forward to more. :thumbsup:
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 17

Despite myself, I find myself sympathizing with the Alshain commander, who really has no choice but to see his mission through to the end. And what an end. Exploding asteroids? Wicked sick. :)
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 17

That's my Lizzy...Boom and BOOM! :) You've done an excellent job with both Liz and Dr. Murakawa here--that's exactly how I would have had Denise handle that scene with Taiee. The scene with Picard and Anij was also nicely done--very poignant.
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 17

tigerstyle said:
Despite myself, I find myself sympathizing with the Alshain commander, who really has no choice but to see his mission through to the end.

And that was one of my very favorite scenes in this chapter, for that very reason. I loved how subtlely and succinctly you were able to juxtpose the very best of the Alshain honor and integrity -- and I loved the irony of this being embodied in this commander who was from a relatively "low class" -- with the excesses of the current state of that very same society.

And, overall, again a wonderful chapter. I was absolutely rapt. I especially enjoyed and appreciated Ramirez's "observations" about Sandhurst and Lar'ragos and the scene between Taiee and Murakawa, as well as the scenes on the Sutherland and that entire confrontation. I was just about to add my comments on how much I liked the closing scene between Jedalla and A'Yaud (especially the whole thing with A'Yaud extending his neck) ..., and then realized I'm essentiall saying -- yet again -- that I loved the whole damn thing! :lol: Big surprise.

Very nicely done, once again.

And we havne't even gotten to the attack of the Son'a weapons or the rescue of Pell Ojana! :eek:

What a ride! :thumbsup:
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 16

Nice job taking out the Alshain blockading force. an overall good chapter.
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 16

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: You're use of battle tactics is inspired.

Shelby: "And if I can't make the big decisions, then I have no right to sit in this chair." < nice touch :)
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 16

Thanks for the kind words, folks.

Chapter 18 is in the works, but is coming along very slowly as I attempt to tie up the remaining loose threads to this story. I can’t promise it’ll be up by the time I go on vacation next week. If not, you’ll have to wait awhile for the conclusion and epilogue.

Following the end of Prophets and Loss I’m aiming to pen a number of shorter stories and vignettes about Gibraltar’s crew.

Thanks again for keeping up with my work. :)
 
Prophets and Loss - Chapter 18

Chapter 18

USS Gibraltar
Federation Task Force Peacekeeper
Near Bajora-Tava Forward Observation Post B'hala
Aulerg Moon
The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)


The bridge lights were cut to one-quarter illumination, the blue-tinged glow a visual cue that the starship was running under cloak. On the main viewscreen was the image of a small moon, more a rogue asteroid as Plazzi had pointed out, surrounded by over forty vessels of various configurations.

“Looks like someone is packing up to leave,” remarked Sandhurst from the command chair.

“Or assembling a battle fleet,” Ramirez posited from the well.

Lar’ragos zoomed the viewer image to enlarge two ships that were quite obviously transports of some kind, their exteriors dotted with cargo pods.

“Can we tell what’s inside those, Lieutenant?” Sandhurst asked.

“No, sir. While cloaked we’re restricted to passive sensor readings only.”

Turning to his senior officers, Sandhurst solicited input.

“I’d suggest decloaking and taking out the engines of those transports. That should be sufficient to get their attention, as well as underscore the vulnerability of their situation,” Ramirez offered.

Lar’ragos countered, “True, sir, but if we open fire first thing, we’ll have completely discounted the possibility of dialogue.”

Sandhurst put on a look of mock surprise, “Dialogue, Pava? You?”

Lar’ragos bore a mysterious smirk. “You know what they say about El Aurians, Captain. No better listeners, no worse enemies.”

“Right.” Sandhurst managed a tight smile. Turning to Ramirez, he ordered, “Back us off into the nebula. We’ll decloak under cover, and appear to have just stumbled upon their position. If they won’t talk, we’ll keep our cloaking advantage a secret until it’s needed.”

The crew moved to carry out their orders, and moments later, Gibraltar decloaked and nosed through the miasma, coming into full view of the Bajora-Tavan flotilla. The lozenge-shaped corsairs threw up a hasty picket defense between the starship and their vulnerable transports.

“Shield status, sir?” This from Ramirez, who watched with growing unease as multiple target locks centered on Gibraltar from the Bajora-Tavan vessels.

“Keep the shields down and our weapons systems cold, Commander. I don’t want to give them any more provocation than we already have.” To Ops, Sandhurst ordered, “Hail them, Mr. Juneau.”

There was a brief pause as the young woman had to force her eyes down to her console from where they’d been glued to the Bajoran formation on screen. Clearing her throat, she announced, “Channel open, sir.”

“This is the Federation starship Gibraltar to the Bajora-Tava. We respectfully request the return of our officer, Pell Ojana.” He gestured for Juneau to mute the audio pickups.

From behind Sandhurst at Tactical, Lar’ragos said quietly, “And now what?”

Without looking back, the captain replied, “Now… we wait.”

Tense moments crept past, until finally there was a terse audio reply. “Federation starship, you will withdraw immediately or be destroyed.”

Sandhurst sighed, “Great. More posturing.” He stood from the command chair, walking to the front of the bridge as he gestured for Juneau to reopen the channel. “Bajora-Tava, I have approached you peacefully because there has been enough fighting and death in recent days. I know you have our officer, and I am prepared to withdraw immediately upon her return.”

Another minute of excruciating silence ticked by, then the image of a Bajoran male in what appeared to be a strange combination of religious vestments and military uniform appeared on screen. “I am Vadark Jobrin Adnai, leader of this grouping. To whom am I speaking?”

“Captain Donald Sandhurst.”

“Very well then, Captain Sandhurst. We have you at a disadvantage. Although I can appreciate your peaceful intent, we are involved in a complex operation at this time. Due to our relative vulnerability at this moment, I’m sure you can understand the necessity of your departing this area immediately.”

Sandhurst inclined his head toward the viewer, “And we shall, as soon as Commander Pell has been handed over.”

“And why do you believe your Commander Pell is among us?”

The captain paused briefly to close his eyes and rub his temples tiredly. “Vadark, your people ambushed our away team to the surface of the Ba’ku planet and then attacked my ship and abducted a member of my crew while seriously injuring several others in the process. In short, you’ve given me more than sufficient provocation to employ more active means to secure her release.” Looking up, he directed a serious expression towards the man on the other end of the transmission. “I’d rather avoid that scenario if at all possible.”

“Are you making threats, Captain?”

Sidestepping Jobrin’s pointed question, Sandhurst replied, “You are dealing with one of two possible situations, Vadark. The first possibility is that I have more than the one ship you see before you, and that the others are awaiting my word to determine whether to approach as friends, or to attack.”

Jobrin’s expression darkened, “And the other possibility, Captain?”

“The other is that you are facing an extremely determined man who is either angry or unstable enough to take a single ship into the midst of your fleet. A man who might harbor deep feelings for Pell Ojana, and would do almost anything imaginable to see her safely returned to her ship and crew.” Sandhurst took a step closer to the screen, “Imagine what such a man might do if he thought Ojana was either dead or beyond his capacity to recover?” Sandhurst’s red-rimmed eyes shimmered brightly, hinting at the roiling sea of emotion contained within him. “Personally, if I were you, I’d hope the man I was facing merely had a hidden fleet of ships at his disposal. Safer for everyone, I’d think.”

The vadark took stock of the situation, weighing what he knew of Sandhurst through the Emissary’s exploration of Pell’s mind via the Orb of Transcendence. Ultimately, he decided that the man might be capable of just about anything. The vulnerability of the Bajoran fleet was too great. The presence of thousands of women and children meant the very essence of the next generation of their culture was at risk. Besides, he mused, his people might yet require some leniency on behalf of the Federation in the struggle yet to be waged for the hearts and minds of the Bajoran people.

Ramirez’s gaze was directed at Lar’ragos, who held it steadily, his finger hovering over the control that would raise shields and bring the ship’s weapons systems to life.

“I agree to your terms, Captain. Pell Ojana will be returned to you in one hour. Remain exactly where you are, and make no changes to your present posture. Any signs of shields or weapons going online will be assumed to be gestures of hostile intent and we will act accordingly.”

“Very well,” Sandhurst replied. “One hour.” He gestured behind his back for Juneau to cut the transmission, and the screen went dark. Sandhurst turned to look at his senior staff, most of who were staring at him in disbelief. Lar’ragos directed a relieved smile at Ramirez who merely shook her head bemusedly. A wry grin flitted across Sandhurst’s features as he admonished the crew, “Oh, ye of little faith…”

*****

This time the Emissary inhabited the body of a low ranking technician. Only the soft red glow of his eyes and the presence of the Little Orb in his hands gave his true identity away to the guards assigned to watch Pell’s cell.

She awoke slowly after he entered the modest yet comfortable living space. Pell blinked, stretching as she sat up and stared at the man in confusion. “Can I help you?” Then she noticed the eyes, “Oh… it’s you.”

“Hello again, Pell Ojana.”

Pell rubbed the sleep from her eyes, muttering icily, “What do you want?”

“It is nearly time for you to go home,” the Emissary said, opening the small case to expose the shimmering hourglass that Pell had come to fear.

“Yes, you’d mentioned your designs on Bajor earlier,” she said, frowning at what normally would have been a religious icon to her.

“You misunderstand, Ojana,” the Emissary explained patiently. “Though the Bajora-Tava will go to Bajor in due time, you are being returned to your ship.”

Aegis?” she asked, still throwing off the last vestiges of her torpor. “No… of course not, you must mean Gibraltar.”

“Precisely so, Ojana. You friend Sandhurst is apparently quite persistent.”

She sat up, “If I’m being released, why put me through this again?”

The Emissary conveyed passable regret through the technician’s features. “I’m afraid you cannot be allowed to upset our plans, Ojana. Your knowledge of my intent… of our intent… is too great.”

“You think you can move your whole society fifty lightyears across Federation space to Bajor without being detected and intercepted? That’s ludicrous.” Pell shook her head.

“I have planned for just such an eventuality since first transporting the Bajora-Tava to the Prophets’ Veil, child. We will move slowly, biding our time, but we will eventually cast out the false gods and see a day when Bajor is truly liberated.”

“You’re mad,” she hissed.

“Perhaps, child, to see beyond time and to exist without physical limitations is a form of madness. If so, I will accept your diagnosis. It changes nothing.” He moved the shimmering orb shard toward her.

Pell recoiled, pressing herself against the wall on the other side of her bunk, trying to steel her mind against the intrusive assault. It was to no avail, and as the Emissary slipped into the substance of her consciousness, he began his work.

*****

USS Gibraltar

Pell Ojana materialized on the transporter pad, looking disoriented. She took a hesitant step forward, only to collapse, falling into Sandhurst’s arms as he rushed the platform. Taiee helped the captain place Pell upon the waiting a-grav gurney, then she and a medical technician spirited the Bajoran out into the corridor.

The captain stood there, clearly struggling against nearly overwhelming emotions as Pell was whisked out of the room. He felt a hand alight atop his shoulder, and looked back to find Lar’ragos behind him, offering silent comfort. Taking his friend’s strength as his own, Sandhurst steeled himself, set his shoulders, and followed the medical team in the direction of Sickbay.

*****

USS Enterprise
Federation Combined Task Force Iron Fulcrum
Departing The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt) at Warp 7


“…and we have avoided any further encounters with the Alshain Starforce as our newly combined task force exits the Briar Patch, sans the Gibraltar. Captain Shelby is to be commended for her creative and effective tactics in overwhelming the Alshain blockading force, and thereby affecting a rescue of Task Force Peacekeeper. I have ordered a complete withdrawal from former Son’a territory, leaving behind many fine men and women from the Argonaut, Bellerophon, and Zhukov. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten.”

Picard ended his log entry, turning to stare out his ready room’s viewport at one of the retreating tendrils of the Briar Patch. Drawing his gaze away from the maudlin sight, he picked up a padd and once again read its contents, shocked at the implications of the document.

His door chimed and he bid the person to enter. Riker stepped through, wearing an incredulous but clearly upbeat expression. “I take it you’ve read it, sir?”

Picard nodded slowly, setting the padd down gently, as if to do otherwise might jostle the enclosed data and alter the significance of the vital message. “Indeed, Number One. I don’t mind saying this comes a something of a surprise. I hadn’t even dispatched my complete after-action report.”

“Maybe that’s as intended, Captain.” Riker stood before Picard’s desk, hands resting atop one of the chairs opposing the workstation. “Perhaps if the president knew the full details of what went on in the Briar Patch, he’d have been less likely to issue a blanket pardon of all Starfleet personnel involved in the mission?”

Blowing an irritated breath through his nose, Picard reflected, “That sounds damned cynical, Will, especially as this action will undoubtedly prove the last nail in Santiago’s political coffin.”

“Cynical but correct,” Riker countered.

“Probably,” Picard conceded dourly. “I came here to forge a lasting peace between these peoples, and instead started a shooting war that’s left thousands dead and created tens-of-thousands of refugees. I feel like I failed the man in every respect.”

“The president knew it was a gamble, Captain. In the end, if we’d sat by and done nothing, we’d have become morally complicit in the Alshain atrocities, and most of those people we’ve rescued would have died as a result.” Riker bowed his head slightly, “We’ve done good works here, sir, and saved a great many people from certain annihilation. If nothing else, I’d hope you’d take some solace in that fact.”

Picard offered his exec a wan, distracted smile. “I do, Will, I do. I simply don’t like the fact of not only failing the original mission, but being given what amounts to a free pass in regards to some of our more questionable actions.”

Riker quirked an eyebrow. “Would your conscience feel better if we’d been ordered to fall on our swords instead, Captain?”

“In fact it would, Number One, no matter how illogical that sounds.” Picard shook his head. “Cheating death I can live with. Cheating responsibility, that’s another matter entirely.”

Seeking to change the subject and hopefully lighten his captain’s mood, Riker asked, “And where to now, sir?”

Gesturing to his desktop computer terminal, Picard revealed, “We’ve been ordered to rendezvous with Admiral Jellico aboard the Challenger and transfer over our Son’a and Klingon prisoners to Starfleet Security.”

“Well,” Riker remarked dryly, “There goes my day.” He gave Picard a self-deprecating grin, “It’s bad enough having to call Shelby ‘sir’ now… do I really have to play host to Edward Jellico too?”

It was the first genuine laugh Picard had mustered all day. “I’ll tell him you were unavoidably detained, Commander.”

*****

Ministry of War
Central Ministries Complex, Governance Archology
Alshain Proper


Exarch Jedalla, flanked by his security detail and trailed by his entourage moved briskly through the crowded concourses of the bustling Ministry of War. The exarch had, as he’d so delicately put it earlier that morning, a ‘date with destiny.’ On this day the Federation would howl in agony, suffering the consequences of their arrogant interference in Alshain affairs.

As he approached the heavily guarded entrance to the Strategic Operations Center, Jedalla caught sight of a syndic, a member of the elusive priesthood. Those of that arcane order typically eschewed such mundane matters of governance as the waging of wars, so the presence of the old priest, clad in competing folds of gold and crimson was clearly anomalous.

Jedalla slowed to observe the man, who turned suddenly and lunged towards the exarch with something in his hand. Jedalla and his retinue were sprinkled with a red, viscous substance before members of his security detail tackled the priest to the floor. In the man’s hand he clutched the skull of a juvenile Itrob, its eyes and mouth leaking the same red fluid. “May your sept die with you,” hissed the old man, “Weakness, indolence and idiocy I curse upon your children as I revoke the heavens’ mandate!”

Jedalla’s paladin bodyguards quickly disarmed the priest of his consecrated yet otherwise harmless decanter. The exarch experienced a cold chill of recognition as his mind finally grasped the significance of what had just occurred. He looked down, seeing splashes of red upon his regal cloak, and bile rose in his throat as he saw it for what it was… the mingled blood of the lowliest tier of Alshain society, the Outcasts. By spraying Jedalla with the stinking, cloying blood of the unwashed and invoking his curse, the syndic had symbolically neutralized Jedalla’s exarchal powers, leaving him vulnerable to…

“Weapons down!” The cry was echoed from multiple directions at once. From within the great, milling crowd of officers and enlisted personnel, a heavily armed strike team emerged, their aimed weapons several orders of magnitude more formidable than the largely ceremonial pistols and blades carried by his paladin escorts.

A polemarch, a general in the Exarchal Guards Army, stepped forward with his teeth bared and his ears pinned back with aggressive intent. “Jedalla, tell your men to stand down! I have no desire to see more blood spilled, most especially noble blood.”

‘Jedalla,’ the exarch noted bitterly, “Not Sire.’ Working to keep his voice steady, he ordered his men to disarm. The sullen paladins looked as though they would still fight, with or without weapons, but they dutifully obeyed Jedalla’s command.

The soldiers enveloped the paladins, marching them away as another group of officers encircled Jedalla. “You’ll come with us,” growled the polemarch as he moved to the head of the procession.

The walk was a short one, leading to a modest sized meeting room off the operations center. As Jedalla entered, the soldiers in front of him parted to reveal a group of Alshain nobles seated around the table. They represented some, though clearly not all of the Peerage, the quasi-representative body that served to advise the exarch.

“What is this?” Jedalla snarled. “Betrayal of your oaths of fealty? Each of you will see your septs stricken from history for this affront!”

War Minister Orthlin C'Oemnm appeared to speak for the group. “Exarch, I deeply apologize for this unprecedented act, but you left us little choice. Your planned attack on the Federation cannot be allowed to take place.”

Spittle flecked Jedalla’s bristling muzzle as his eyes widened with disbelief. “You would see us cower before the Federation? Will you be the first to prostrate yourself before their ambassador, C’Oemnm?”

C’Oemnm appeared decidedly uncomfortable in the face of his sovereign’s anger, but he continued in the same patient cadence. “Such a brazen assault on Federation citizens would give their government little choice but to retaliate, and despite the recent cooperation of the Klingon dissidents, the Empire would be obligated by treaty to join the Federation in a retaliatory attack. The end result would find the Exarchate in similar circumstances to the Cardassian Union, our infrastructure utterly destroyed and what remains of our grand cities occupied by enemy soldiers.”

“They would not dare!” Jedalla roared. “After their nearest colonies along the border were obliterated, the Federation would fear that we had more of these Son’a weapons and would sue for peace while holding their Klingon allies in check.”

C’Oemnm sighed in exasperation, “We cannot take that chance, Exarch.” Looking beseechingly at the man, the war ministered offered, “Each of us here has the greatest respect for what you have accomplished. The Exarchate is once again an ascending power in the quadrant. We have crushed the Son’a and their slave races, annexed their territory and resources, and in so doing our people have experienced a rebirth of their collective pride and national identity.”

“Then trust me now, Orthlin! Release me and I will lead us to even greater heights. In time, even the Klingons will kneel before the might of our armed forces.”

“Perhaps someday,” C’Oemnm replied sourly, “But not today.” Turning to look at the polemarch, the war minister gestured for Jedalla to be removed. Looking back at his now imprisoned monarch, C’Oemnm said quietly, “You will not be harmed, Exarch. Merely… detained, until such time as we have regained our footing. Then we will re-examine your place in the Exarchate.”

Jedalla’s defiant screams could be heard echoing throughout the halls of the Ministry of War as he was dragged away to begin his long term of banishment.

*****

Camp Khitomer Compound
Khitomer Colony, Klingon Empire


Vice Admiral Jellico materialized alongside Captain Yejokk, preparing to surrender his prisoner to the custody of the Klingon authorities. Strangely, the reception committee had no weapons or restraints in evidence, and the two Defense Force officers present acknowledged Yejokk’s arrival with respectful nods.

Touching his compin, Jellico relayed an order to the orbiting starship to release Yejokk’s restraint manacles, and seconds later, the large cuffs snapped open and clattered to the stone floor.

Jellico turned to face the rogue Klingon officer. “You’ve performed a great service for both our peoples, Captain. You have my personal gratitude, though unofficially, of course. My only regret is that your participation in this affair was discovered.”

Yejokk smiled grimly in response. “My capture was unfortunate, but it was a calculated risk, Admiral. In the end, our task was accomplished. The Alshain hunger for territory has been sated, and they will be hard pressed to maintain their grip on the Klach D'Kel Brakt. I doubt the Exarchate will prove a viable threat to either the Federation or the Empire in the coming decade.”

Jellico nodded cautiously, “The deception was unpalatable, but necessary.”

“Such clashes are inevitable after a conflict as destabilizing as the Dominion War has been, Admiral” Yejokk offered. “Think of this as a cleansing brush fire, burning away the detritus and preventing a larger, more destructive confrontation at some later time. The subterfuge may not have been honorable in the strictest sense, but it was essential.”

Generating a half-hearted smile, Jellico noted, “Well put, Captain. With the exception of your capture, the remainder of the operation proceeded as planned. Neither President Santiago nor Captain Picard appear aware that they’ve been maneuvered into playing unwitting parts in our little production.” He spared a quick glance around the premises, noting the Klingon banners hanging from the vaulted ceilings overhead, each one emblazoned with the name of a family touched by the Romulan attack on Khitomer a generation earlier. The names of Ra’Skan, Kathul, Mogh, and a procession of others; each a stark reminder of the price of allowing one’s enemies to pursue aggression unchecked. Jellico looked back to Yejokk, “And how will you fare?”

“K’Vada is not unreasonable, nor unmerciful. I will continue to play the role of the renegade provocateur for public consumption, no matter what the personal cost. If I must die for my failure, at least it will be a quick death.”

“I hope,” Jellico said, tapping his compin, “That when I meet my end that it will be for as noble a purpose.” Just before the transporter beam engulfed him, the admiral said, “Die well, Yejokk, son of Drast.”

*****
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 18

Pausing to catch my breath...Nice...real nice. Webs inside webs inside webs with Jellico pulling the strings. The ramifications for the future though: The Bajora-Tava are definitely a potential destabilizing influence and confrontation with the Alshain has only been postponed. And Pell--I have a feeling that the Emissary did far more than just rearrange her memories...

Sandhurst has truly matured as a captain--I have a feeling that he's going to be offered something larger than the Gibraltar soon--with what he's done, I'm sure he's attracted more than a little notice.

And poor Riker--having to call Liz 'sir'. You can bet she took pleasure in him having to do it too. ;)

A memorable epic, Gibraltar. This easily takes its place as one of the best Star Trek tales I've ever read.

Very...very...well done.
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 18

Quite a few unexpected turns in this chapter: the coup d’etat on Alshain Proper, getting Pell back with pure guile, and Jellico’s hand in orchestrating this entire conflict.

…the final point also explains why the captains of the task force got off scot-free. Why punish people for doing exactly what they were manipulated to do?

My only question is who does Jellico answer to? (Yes, that’s rhetorical at this point. :) )

Great chapter, unexpected is always good!
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 18

Thanks for the terrific comments, guys. I’ve still got to tag an epilogue onto this bad boy before it’s completely finished, but then this tale will be over and done with.
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 18

Quite an epic tale - I thoroughly enjoyed this!

I have to admit, though, my favorite part was the bit with the warp-powered, quantum warhead-equipped asteroids. It still boils down to throwing rocks - a tactic I heartily endorse! :D

Looking forward to more stories about the captain and crew of the good ship Gibraltar ! :)
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 18

Another great effort! You keep topping yourself. I really like the web of intrigue you've spun. Not only have you did a great job by your fan fic series, I think you've given the rest of your colleagues some stuff to play with as well. Thank you kindly sir.
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 18

Very interesting direction you have chosen to take here. You wrapped up both ultra-tension filled plot-lines by last minute interventions, having cooler heads prevail instead of opting for an explosive showdown. A bit anti-climatic perhaps but very intruiging at the same time. And you left us with plenty of fascinating stuff that you hopefully will pick up in future stories (What will happen to the Bajora Tava's ambitous plans? How is Pell going to deal with her encoutner? And will they ever find out about Jellico's shadow operation?)

A lot of little details here were a lot of fun. I liked for example how Pell thought of Aegis as "her ship" before remembering Gibraltar. Very believable and it gave me a touch of nostalgia as well.

Looking forward to read the conclusion. And then to settle in for that time in-between Gibraltar stories. A sad sad time.
 
Re: Prophets and Loss - Chapter 18

Well, here I am late to the party, once again. :o I guess I don't have a lot to add to what's been said above. But, that never stopped me before. :p

I don't know that I'd call this chapter anticlimactic, but it was definitely very far from what I was expecting. Instead of an all out knock down drag out between the Alshain and Picard, et al, not to mention an anticipated brawl between Gibraltar and the Bajora Tava, you gave us an unexpectedly reasoned resolution to these storylines. I very much liked how you handled the Pell storyline. In fact, my favorite part of this chapter was Sandhurst's "explanation" of the Bajroa's "options". And, at first, I had a bit of trouble reconciling the very conciliatory approach taken by the Alshain leaders, in light of the plethora of frothing-at-the-mouth Alshain you gave us in this story. Then I realized, there has to be some segment of their population that acts on reason rather than pure instinct, or they wouldn't ever have become advanced enough to achieve space flight in the first place, much less the creation of an interstellar empire. And finally, I loved the little twist with Jellico and Yejokk. Perhaps this leaves open the possibility of more intrigue in the future? ;)

As always, quite enjoyable. Looking forward to the wrap-up, though not to the "in between time" to follow. :(

Going to my happy place now ..., going to my happy place. :angel:
 
Prophets and Loss - Epilogue

Epilogue – Tidying Up

There was a moment’s hesitation between Sandhurst pressing the door’s enunciator, and Plazzi’s reluctant sounding invitation to enter. Stepping into the stateroom, Sandhurst found Plazzi busy packing up his belongings; an assortment of cargo boxes and suitcases littered the cabin.

“You don’t waste time, do you, Elisto?”

The older man smiled mirthlessly as he folded a shirt and placed it into a carryall. “I’ve got to do this before I lose my nerve, Captain. That’s what kept me in Starfleet so long my first time around; I’m a sentimental fool who gets too attached to his shipmates.”

Sandhurst nodded wordlessly, looking past the science officer and out the viewport where white stars shone against an obsidian backdrop, all signs of the accursed Briar Patch now far behind them. Sandhurst glanced at a framed picture of Plazzi and a woman Donald presumed to be his wife. The two were smiling broadly and were surrounded by children and grandchildren. “The feeling is mutual, you know” the captain said finally.

Pausing from his task, Plazzi looked up. “I know, and I’m sorry I’m leaving on a sour note.”

Sandhurst frowned, “How so?”

“Popping off at you like that on the bridge, it was inexcusable.” Plazzi shook his head, his cheeks coloring as he recalled the incident. “That was the big clue that it’s time for me to get a nice, cushy planetside assignment until Starfleet ends the stop-loss order and I can muster out again. When you wanted to try that stunt with the engines to get around the Son’a, all I could think of was my family. I’m ashamed to admit that at that moment nothing else mattered, not you, not the away team, nothing..”

“You didn’t fail in your duty, if that’s what you’re afraid of, Elisto. If anything, you, Pell, and Ashok may have talked me out of a suicidal plan that would have resulted in disaster.”

Plazzi grimaced, “That’s not the point, sir, and you know it. A captain’s orders must be followed, most especially in a crisis, or lives can be lost. I… I just can’t do that anymore.”

“Fair enough,” Sandhurst conceded. “I told you before that the moment you gave me the word, I’d have you to the nearest starbase as fast as possible.” He met Plazzi’s trouble gaze, “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Captain,” Elisto said softly, “The word is given.”

Sandhurst extended his hand, “So it is. We’re heading for Starfleet’s new shipyard at Pacifica to make repairs. You can catch a transport from there back to Earth.”

Plazzi shook the captain’s hand firmly, “Thank you, sir. It’s been a pleasure serving with you these last six months.”

“Likewise, Elisto. Likewise.”

*****

Sandhurst’s next stop was two decks down, a smaller interior cabin whose door tag still shown blank, it’s occupant as yet undecided if Gibraltar would be his new assignment.

Ensign Kuenre Shanthi stood awkwardly from his dining table as Sandhurst entered the cabin at the younger man’s prompting. He smiled, “Relax, Mr. Shanthi. Might I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course, sir.” Shanthi moved to the sitting area, gesturing for Sandhurst to have a seat across from him.

Settling into a chair, Sandhurst spared no time in getting to the meat of the matter. “Commander Plazzi’s leaving at our next layover. I need a new chief science officer. The job is yours if you want it, Ensign.”

Shanthi looked painfully uncertain. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, Captain, and I’d previously decided to accept the post if you offered… but now…”

Sandhurst leaned forward, “Ensign, I’m truly sorry for what happened to you on Ba’ku. With time, and the proper medical intervention, you will get better. Take it from someone who knows. But, in the words of a famous starship captain, risk is our business. I can’t promise you that nothing bad will ever happen to you again. No one can.”

Looking distant, Shanthi stared off into the void. “I realize that, sir, but I’m having trouble shaking this off and getting past it.”

Sounding an empathetic note, Sandhurst countered, “Something that awful, that invasive, will be with you for a long time to come. Regardless, you have to decide where your career goes from here. You’re in a unique position, as I’m sure you’re well aware. At a word, you could have nearly any science posting in the fleet…”

“Captain, I’d never—“

Sandhurst waved him off, “I’m not suggesting that you would, Kuenre, merely noting that you have an option available to you that few others have. The pressure of having that ‘out’ only adds to your burden, am I right?”

Shanthi nodded grudgingly.

“So, what’s it to be? Do you spend the rest of your career safe behind a desk or in a laboratory someplace, or do you spend it out here, where your strength, courage, and knowledge will be put to the test on a regular basis?”

The young man looked torn.

“Kuenre, I know that you want to make your own way in Starfleet, to chart a course different from that of your mother. Gibraltar’s as good a place to start as any. You can be sure that serving on this ship, nobody will be able to accuse you of currying favoritism with Admiral Shanthi, or anyone else.”

The young man’s resolve seemed to firm before Sandhurst’s eyes. The look of consternation on his face was replaced by one of cautious optimism. “I accept, Captain.”

*****

Sittin' on the beach
The island king of love
Deep in Fijian Seas
Deep in some blissful dream
Where the goddess finally sleeps
In the lap of her lover
Subdued in all her rage
And I'm aglow with the taste of the demons driven out
And happily replaced with the presence of real love
The only one who saves


-Live, Dance with You

Somewhere in the Cerulean Sea…

The outgoing tide lapped at the white, crystalline beaches of Isla del Cristal, a resort island in Pacifica’s Crescent de la Luz chain. Sundancer palms waved in the warm breeze under a blazing yellow sun, making the setting the personification of many humans’ ideal of paradise.

Donald Sandhurst, clad only in a pair of Bermuda shorts, lay comfortably atop a lounge chair, a tall sweating glass of some tropical drink concoction grasped lightly in one hand. “Sorry I had to drag you back here,” he noted languidly to his friend. “I know it’s hell, but this was the closest shipyard available”

“Mmmm,” Pell Ojana replied noncommittally from beneath her shaded eyewear, “Marooned on Pacifica twice in as many weeks. If this is part of Starfleet’s post-prison supervision plan, I’ve got to say, I approve wholeheartedly.”

Sandhurst marshaled his strength, committing fully to the arduous task of having to raising his glass to his mouth and taking a long drink from the straw. “Speaking of plans, Commander, do you have any thoughts on your next posting?”

A pregnant pause followed, and Pell finally replied just as Sandhurst was mustering the energy to turn his head to look at her. “I know a delightful little escort ship in desperate need of a diplomatic officer. I’m good friends with the captain. I don’t think getting assigned there will be much of a problem.”

“I can’t imagine it would be,” Sandhurst agreed. “In fact I can think of one admiral right off the top of my head who’d be tickled to sign the transfer orders.” He turned his head, squinting in the direct sunlight. “Increase sunscreen another ten percent,” he instructed the silently hovering servitor drone. The small floating sphere ionized the air over the pair, reducing the glare accordingly. “What about Glover?” he asked cautiously. “I’m sure he’ll be getting another ship soon.”

She sighed, as if the very question was an intrusion upon her present blissful state. “I can’t be around Terrence and Jasmine right now. Too much angst there, and if I’m near either of them I’m going to end up in the middle of it.”

The sudden tension that had set in Donald’s shoulders when he posed the question ebbed quickly. “You know,” he teased, “Most ships our size aren’t assigned a diplomatic officer.”

“Now you’re complaining?” she asked, her voice laced with mock consternation. “Remember, I’ve read your ship’s logs, Sandy. Believe me, you need a diplomatic officer. You and your crew operate with all the subtly of a brick through a glass window.”

Sandhurst chuckled at that, fishing around in his glass for a piece of ice which he drew up Pell’s exposed stomach beside him. Rather than the indignant howl he’d been aiming for, instead his efforts elicited a low moan. “Naughty captain. You’ll have to wait for that, sir. Dinner first, then aerobic activity. I’m not that easy after all.”

“That’s my girl,” he replied lazily.

The combadge in his pocket vibrated, and the tiny comms earpiece he’d inserted came to life. “Captain, have you got a minute?” It was Ramirez.

“Mm-hmmm,” he sub-vocalized in response.

Just then, as luck would have it, Pell sat up. “Okay, I’ve reached maximum thermal absorbance. Time for a swim. Care to join me?”

“I’ll sit this one out, thanks.”

“Your loss,” Pell leaned forward and kissed him. It was a passionate, lingering kiss full of promise. Then she turned and ran down and into the breaking surf.

A shadow fell across Sandhurst, who looked up to find a winsome female standing over him, wearing a revealing bikini top with a sarong wrapped around her waist. The captain blinked as the woman stepped through the lensing sunblock field, disrupting it. Squinting around a raised hand, Sandhurst held up his drink, “Thanks, but I’m only half finished with this one, ma’am.”

“I guess it’s a damn good thing that I won’t be waiting on you, then, sir” Ramirez noted with a wry smile.

Sandhurst jerked forward, sloshing his drink onto his lap, “Oh, frinx!” Ramirez couldn’t be sure if he was merely sunburned or blushing as he contritely offered, “Apologies, exec, I didn’t recognize you.”

“So I gathered,” Ramirez said distractedly, her eyes on the figure now swimming out beyond the breakers. “Anything from the experts?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, dabbing at his lap with a towel. “Nothing the Vulcans or Betazoids can detect, anyway.”

Ramirez asked pointedly, “What do you think?”

Following her gaze out to where Pell cut through the water with sure strokes, Sandhurst’s voice tightened. “I honestly don’t know. She seems fine. Better than fine, actually, more content than I’ve seen her in years. As for whether she’s a ticking time bomb for the Bajora-Tava… only time will tell.” Forgoing the straw, he took a long draught of his drink, finishing it. “Needless to say, Starfleet wants us to steer clear of Bajor for awhile.”

“That makes sense.”

Seeking to shift topics, Sandhurst asked, “Everything ready to go for Plazzi’s farewell party tonight?”

“Yes, sir. We’ve reserved the community hall and all four of the resort’s holodecks, room enough for about four hundred people. With the SCE puttering around on Gibraltar for the next four days the entire crew’s freed up to attend. Taiee and her people are putting up the decorations right now. Should be a smashing get together.”

“And Plazzi?”

Ramirez glanced up at the sun, then turned, pointing out to the horizon using dead reckoning. “He’s out deep sea fishing with Pava, about two-hundred kilometers that way. They’ll be back before nightfall, though.”

“Sounds like you’ve covered all the bases, Commander. Nicely done.”

“Thank you, sir.”

His brain crunching numbers a bit more slowly due to the heavily lubricated state of his synapses, Sandhurst frowned. “Wait, did you say four-hundred? Isn’t that overkill? Our entire compliment is only one-hundred forty-three.”

“We’re expecting company, sir.”

Quirking an eyebrow, he looked puzzled, “Odd, I thought we were the only Starfleet ship in orbit right now.”

Smirking, Ramirez explained, “Captain Shelby wants her chief medical officer back ASAP, and arranged to pick her up here. Sutherland’s due to warp in at nineteen-hundred hours.”

“Wait… you don’t mean…”

His XO nodded, grinning, “Oh, yes sir. Once I’d explained we were having a party, well… you know.”

Sutherland,” Sandhurst echoed numbly. “Heaven help us.”

“Just so, sir.”

*****

Three weeks later…

The transporter deposited them on a cobblestone pathway leading to a charming two-story country cottage, surrounded by meticulously trimmed foliage and blooming flowers. Anij looked around, drinking in the gently rolling hills in the distance, acres of land covered in some kind of harvestable vegetation. “What are those, Jean-Luc?”

He smiled, “Those are vineyards, my dear. The people of this region grow a fruit called grapes that’s made into wine.”

She turned back to the house, “And the home?”

“It belongs to my family. This is La Barre, my home.”

*****
 
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