ST: Gibraltar - Sumpta Vulnera
- Thread starter Gibraltar
- Start date
* * *
Lightner strode onto the bridge at the tail end of Gamma-shift, padd in hand and moving with purpose.
He stood in front of the captain’s chair, raising up the padd. “I’m transmitting a new shield modulation and very specific helm instructions, in addition to some modifications to the main deflector and our structural integrity fields. Engineering and Tactical will be constructing and deploying stealth mines and low-visibility weapons platforms in Gibraltar’s immediate vicinity. We have three hours to get this done.”
He toggled the device’s transmit function and then moved about the bridge, ensuring that his orders were being carried out to his satisfaction.
Lt. 1971, the acting duty officer, leveled his unnerving gaze on Lightner, a look that managed to be both vacant and all-knowing simultaneously. “What is happening, Captain?”
“The Romulans are coming,” Lightner answered simply before turning away and striding towards his ready room, leaving the bridge officers scrambling to comply with these unexpected new orders.
It took nearly twenty minutes for the news to reach Pokrol, who entered the ready room at Lightner’s summons.
“Captain, what’s going on? I heard something about a host of operational changes you just instituted?”
Lightner looked up from his computer’s holographic desktop display. “Yes. In approximately three hours, the Revisionists are going to attempt an attack on Gibraltar. They’ll try to seize the crystals and abduct Dr. Kemet. I’m putting safeguards in place to thwart that attack.”
Pokrol appeared to study Lightner for a moment before stepping farther into the compartment and approaching the desk. “And you know this… how?”
“I was approached by one of the Revisionist leaders, a man named Salmis. He appears to disagree with his comrades as to the efficacy of that course of action, and gave me specific instructions to aid in our defense.”
The DTI agent slid into one of the chairs facing Lightner’s desk without invitation, his expression radiating skepticism.
“Forgive me, Captain, but that sounds highly implausible.”
“Undoubtedly,” Lightner affirmed, “but true, nonetheless. As a DTI operative, you’ll be interested to know that Salmis gave me this information fourteen years from now.”
Pokrol was visibly startled by this revelation, coming halfway out of his chair. “Captain, did you touch one of the crystals?”
“I did not,” Lightner replied calmly.
“Then… how—”
“He showed up at my house, or rather what will be my house fourteen years in the future. We talked, and he insinuated that he had some way of allowing me to access my future memories so that we could have a discussion that he desperately needed to have with me in the here and now.”
Pokrol seated himself back in his chair. “A dream? You’re doing all this as the result of a dream you had?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. In the dream Salmis gave me a subspace frequency and encryption key, which I tried when I woke up. He was on the other end of the channel.”
He shook his head and Pokrol said, “Telepathic manipulation, then. Certainly not any kind of genuine temporal phenomena.”
Lightner threw up his hands. “Maybe? But then how do I remember the events of the attack? How do I know that in a few hours we’ll be facing off against two Romulans ships, one of which will be armed with temporal weaponry?”
“I don’t know, Captain, but what you’re describing isn’t any kind of time-tech I’ve ever heard of. If someone’s manipulated you telepathically, they could conceivably place whatever memories they wanted into your mind.”
Lightner shook his head definitively. “I’ve been the victim of telepathic assault before, and it wasn’t anything like this.”
Pokrol produced a small, thin stylus-like device from a pocket inside his jacket. He held it up for Lightner’s inspection. “Temporal sensory device, roughly analogous to a medical tricorder’s hand scanner. May I?”
Lightner sat back in his chair, holding his arms out to his sides in a gesture of invitation.
Pokrol stood and moved around the desk, sweeping the sensor wand around Lightner’s head and upper torso while studying the results on a compact padd. After a few moments he retreated back to his chair and resumed his seat, inspecting the padd closely.
“So?” Lightner prompted.
“You have detectible traces of chroniton energy in your hippocampus and your brain’s distributed memory cortex, which would be indicative of cross-temporal activity.”
It had been a grudging admission.
“So, do you believe me now?”
Pokrol sighed. “Let’s say your version of events is gaining traction.”
“Let’s hope so,” Lightner countered, “because my memories of the forthcoming attack tell me you were one of the casualties. Fortunately for you, I’m not willing to incur the loss of thirty-four killed and twice that many wounded to rid myself of you.”
The agent scrutinized the captain from under raised eyebrows. “You’re a real charmer, Lightner. You know that?”
“I learned from the best.”
* * *
They arrived right on schedule.
There were two warbirds, one an older Valdore-class and the other a rare, ultra-modern Quarl-class, a crown jewel of the Romulan Diaspora.
As soon as the vessels began to shimmer into visibility, the swarm of pre-positioned stealth weapons satellites opened fire in concert with Gibraltar. Phaser beams and micro-torpedoes from these shuttle-pod-sized devices supplemented the starship’s fusillade of photon and quantum torpedoes and a scintillating flurry of phaser fire from multiple emitters.
As it was engulfed in destructive energies, the Quarl unleashed its temporal effectors against Gibraltar. They crashed ineffectively against the starship’s newly modulated shields which stubbornly refused to collapse.
Both warbirds attempted evasive maneuvers as their shields struggled to deflect the enormous amounts of incoming ordinance and columnated energy. Their efforts only served to doom them, as both craft ran afoul of the low-visibility mines littered around them. Spherical explosions blossomed in the void as the mines detonated, overwhelming the warbird’s traumatized shields.
Great wounds were opened in the vessels’ superstructures, venting gasses, debris and bodies into space.
As their shields failed, transporter beams scoured the command centers of the warbirds, dematerializing dozens of centurions and storing their patterns in the buffered substrates of additional loitering stealth-probes.
On Gibraltar’s bridge, Lightner sat forward in his chair, grimly observing the rapid destruction of their would-be attackers.
Pokrol sat to Lightner’s left in the seat commonly reserved for the second officer or mission specialist. He stared, dumbfounded at the spectacle on display, the vivid images of the Romulans’ annihilation. Both craft, now blasted apart, scattered wreckage in all directions.
“Dear God,” the DTI agent murmured, “what have we done?”
Lightner grunted sourly in response. “We’ve done as I was taught. Always cheat, always win. The only unfair fight is the one you lose.”
The captain stood and moved to a position just behind Wójcik’s Operations station. He called back to 1971 at the Tactical board. “Good shooting, Seventy-One.” He glanced down at Wójcik. “Once we’ve confirmed there are no other warbirds lurking in the vicinity, bring the transporter probes back aboard and shunt the Romulan prisoners’ patterns into our shipboard buffers. We’ll rematerialize them in the brig with medical personnel standing by with security.”
“Aye, sir.”
“What’s the point of taking prisoners, Captain?” Pokrol asked. “We already know what they want.”
“I doubt they are all zealots, and owing to the destruction of their ships, we’re still in the dark about their chronometric weapons. If these temporal effectors can be modified, our new shield settings might prove useless in any future encounters.”
Pokrol nodded numbly, glancing up to see Lightner standing tall in the center of his bridge. Gone was the indecision and self-doubt that had plagued the man earlier. To Pokrol’s consternation, it appeared Lightner had elected to channel some of his own former commanding officers, men whose reputations were a stain upon the credibility of the Federation.
As though he could read Pokrol’s thoughts, Lightner fixed his dour stare on the smaller man. “We’ve altered history, Agent. The battle’s won, and you’re still breathing. We’re in uncharted waters now.”
* * *
Lightner strode onto the bridge at the tail end of Gamma-shift, padd in hand and moving with purpose.
He stood in front of the captain’s chair, raising up the padd. “I’m transmitting a new shield modulation and very specific helm instructions, in addition to some modifications to the main deflector and our structural integrity fields. Engineering and Tactical will be constructing and deploying stealth mines and low-visibility weapons platforms in Gibraltar’s immediate vicinity. We have three hours to get this done.”
He toggled the device’s transmit function and then moved about the bridge, ensuring that his orders were being carried out to his satisfaction.
Lt. 1971, the acting duty officer, leveled his unnerving gaze on Lightner, a look that managed to be both vacant and all-knowing simultaneously. “What is happening, Captain?”
“The Romulans are coming,” Lightner answered simply before turning away and striding towards his ready room, leaving the bridge officers scrambling to comply with these unexpected new orders.
It took nearly twenty minutes for the news to reach Pokrol, who entered the ready room at Lightner’s summons.
“Captain, what’s going on? I heard something about a host of operational changes you just instituted?”
Lightner looked up from his computer’s holographic desktop display. “Yes. In approximately three hours, the Revisionists are going to attempt an attack on Gibraltar. They’ll try to seize the crystals and abduct Dr. Kemet. I’m putting safeguards in place to thwart that attack.”
Pokrol appeared to study Lightner for a moment before stepping farther into the compartment and approaching the desk. “And you know this… how?”
“I was approached by one of the Revisionist leaders, a man named Salmis. He appears to disagree with his comrades as to the efficacy of that course of action, and gave me specific instructions to aid in our defense.”
The DTI agent slid into one of the chairs facing Lightner’s desk without invitation, his expression radiating skepticism.
“Forgive me, Captain, but that sounds highly implausible.”
“Undoubtedly,” Lightner affirmed, “but true, nonetheless. As a DTI operative, you’ll be interested to know that Salmis gave me this information fourteen years from now.”
Pokrol was visibly startled by this revelation, coming halfway out of his chair. “Captain, did you touch one of the crystals?”
“I did not,” Lightner replied calmly.
“Then… how—”
“He showed up at my house, or rather what will be my house fourteen years in the future. We talked, and he insinuated that he had some way of allowing me to access my future memories so that we could have a discussion that he desperately needed to have with me in the here and now.”
Pokrol seated himself back in his chair. “A dream? You’re doing all this as the result of a dream you had?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. In the dream Salmis gave me a subspace frequency and encryption key, which I tried when I woke up. He was on the other end of the channel.”
He shook his head and Pokrol said, “Telepathic manipulation, then. Certainly not any kind of genuine temporal phenomena.”
Lightner threw up his hands. “Maybe? But then how do I remember the events of the attack? How do I know that in a few hours we’ll be facing off against two Romulans ships, one of which will be armed with temporal weaponry?”
“I don’t know, Captain, but what you’re describing isn’t any kind of time-tech I’ve ever heard of. If someone’s manipulated you telepathically, they could conceivably place whatever memories they wanted into your mind.”
Lightner shook his head definitively. “I’ve been the victim of telepathic assault before, and it wasn’t anything like this.”
Pokrol produced a small, thin stylus-like device from a pocket inside his jacket. He held it up for Lightner’s inspection. “Temporal sensory device, roughly analogous to a medical tricorder’s hand scanner. May I?”
Lightner sat back in his chair, holding his arms out to his sides in a gesture of invitation.
Pokrol stood and moved around the desk, sweeping the sensor wand around Lightner’s head and upper torso while studying the results on a compact padd. After a few moments he retreated back to his chair and resumed his seat, inspecting the padd closely.
“So?” Lightner prompted.
“You have detectible traces of chroniton energy in your hippocampus and your brain’s distributed memory cortex, which would be indicative of cross-temporal activity.”
It had been a grudging admission.
“So, do you believe me now?”
Pokrol sighed. “Let’s say your version of events is gaining traction.”
“Let’s hope so,” Lightner countered, “because my memories of the forthcoming attack tell me you were one of the casualties. Fortunately for you, I’m not willing to incur the loss of thirty-four killed and twice that many wounded to rid myself of you.”
The agent scrutinized the captain from under raised eyebrows. “You’re a real charmer, Lightner. You know that?”
“I learned from the best.”
* * *
They arrived right on schedule.
There were two warbirds, one an older Valdore-class and the other a rare, ultra-modern Quarl-class, a crown jewel of the Romulan Diaspora.
As soon as the vessels began to shimmer into visibility, the swarm of pre-positioned stealth weapons satellites opened fire in concert with Gibraltar. Phaser beams and micro-torpedoes from these shuttle-pod-sized devices supplemented the starship’s fusillade of photon and quantum torpedoes and a scintillating flurry of phaser fire from multiple emitters.
As it was engulfed in destructive energies, the Quarl unleashed its temporal effectors against Gibraltar. They crashed ineffectively against the starship’s newly modulated shields which stubbornly refused to collapse.
Both warbirds attempted evasive maneuvers as their shields struggled to deflect the enormous amounts of incoming ordinance and columnated energy. Their efforts only served to doom them, as both craft ran afoul of the low-visibility mines littered around them. Spherical explosions blossomed in the void as the mines detonated, overwhelming the warbird’s traumatized shields.
Great wounds were opened in the vessels’ superstructures, venting gasses, debris and bodies into space.
As their shields failed, transporter beams scoured the command centers of the warbirds, dematerializing dozens of centurions and storing their patterns in the buffered substrates of additional loitering stealth-probes.
On Gibraltar’s bridge, Lightner sat forward in his chair, grimly observing the rapid destruction of their would-be attackers.
Pokrol sat to Lightner’s left in the seat commonly reserved for the second officer or mission specialist. He stared, dumbfounded at the spectacle on display, the vivid images of the Romulans’ annihilation. Both craft, now blasted apart, scattered wreckage in all directions.
“Dear God,” the DTI agent murmured, “what have we done?”
Lightner grunted sourly in response. “We’ve done as I was taught. Always cheat, always win. The only unfair fight is the one you lose.”
The captain stood and moved to a position just behind Wójcik’s Operations station. He called back to 1971 at the Tactical board. “Good shooting, Seventy-One.” He glanced down at Wójcik. “Once we’ve confirmed there are no other warbirds lurking in the vicinity, bring the transporter probes back aboard and shunt the Romulan prisoners’ patterns into our shipboard buffers. We’ll rematerialize them in the brig with medical personnel standing by with security.”
“Aye, sir.”
“What’s the point of taking prisoners, Captain?” Pokrol asked. “We already know what they want.”
“I doubt they are all zealots, and owing to the destruction of their ships, we’re still in the dark about their chronometric weapons. If these temporal effectors can be modified, our new shield settings might prove useless in any future encounters.”
Pokrol nodded numbly, glancing up to see Lightner standing tall in the center of his bridge. Gone was the indecision and self-doubt that had plagued the man earlier. To Pokrol’s consternation, it appeared Lightner had elected to channel some of his own former commanding officers, men whose reputations were a stain upon the credibility of the Federation.
As though he could read Pokrol’s thoughts, Lightner fixed his dour stare on the smaller man. “We’ve altered history, Agent. The battle’s won, and you’re still breathing. We’re in uncharted waters now.”
* * *
Last edited:
I remain in awe of your ability to produce two stories at once. Now this one is really getting to the good stuff and we're seeing Lightner starting to come into his own. And spitting out a few pithy quotes worthy of his various mentors...
Maybe it's the 14 years of the path of failure that has turned him around so suddenly - makes sense.
Thanks!! rbs
Maybe it's the 14 years of the path of failure that has turned him around so suddenly - makes sense.
Thanks!! rbs
Hot dog!
A quote for every self-defence dojo across the quadrant.
Excellent, as expected from you.
-Will
What a great, twisty and whacky yarn you’re spinning here. Time travel is an old hat in Trek, but boy have you given it some new life.
The future message to Lightner was particularly inspired. And now that history is altered, all bets are off. Kinda wish Enterprise had done something like this with their disappointing Temporal Cold War storyline back in the day.
Also enjoying the Lightner plot line. Could this be the beginning of his rebirth? Definitely liked seeing his foil Pokrol taken down a peg.
The future message to Lightner was particularly inspired. And now that history is altered, all bets are off. Kinda wish Enterprise had done something like this with their disappointing Temporal Cold War storyline back in the day.
Also enjoying the Lightner plot line. Could this be the beginning of his rebirth? Definitely liked seeing his foil Pokrol taken down a peg.
* * *
The two men sat in silence for a few moments, as Lightner’s brooding smothered the compartment like vacuum.
“You’re angry,” Counselor Rendro noted. “Why is that?”
“We’re still sitting here. We have the time crystals, we have Dr. Kemet, and we just slaughtered two ships full of Romulan radicals, and yet DTI won’t let us leave. The goddamn mission’s over,” Lightner seethed.
“Perhaps DTI’s just making sure they’ve covered all their bases?” Rendro posited. “Aren’t we still waiting on their research team to arrive?”
“Yes,” Lightner allowed grudgingly. “More arrogant bureaucrats underfoot.”
“DTI’s an annoyance, to be sure, but that’s not why you’re angry,” Rendro said.
“It’s not?” Lightner snapped.
“No,” Rendro replied calmly. “You’ve voluntarily signed all the waivers and you know full well I’m a telepath who reads your thoughts as part of our therapeutic work, so if you’re comfortable trying to bullshit me while wasting both our time, you go right ahead. It’s not my captaincy on the line here.”
Lightner expelled an irritated sigh. “Fine. I’m angry at having to massacre those Romulans.”
“The Romulans who staged an attack on our ship and would have killed all of us without hesitation if they’d been able to get their hands on Dr. Kemet and those crystals? Those Romulans?”
“I realize it doesn’t make rational sense, Counselor. But, yes, I’m angry about it.”
“Why?” Rendro pressed.
“It feels… it feels like I’m the bad guy here. It feels like something— like the kind of thing I’ve tried to avoid since becoming a commanding officer.”
“How so?”
“The cheating in this circumstance, my overwhelming advantage. I had information I shouldn’t have, and the Romulans didn’t stand a chance with the ambush I laid out for them. I didn’t even try to talk them down, I just pulled the trigger as soon as they decloaked.”
“They didn’t come to talk,” Rendro countered. “You didn’t violate any Starfleet protocols, and you successfully defended your ship against what was supposed to have been their ambush.”
“I know all that,” Lightner protested.
“So why are you angry?”
“Because it’s what he would have done!” Lightner blurted.
Rendro allowed the outburst to hang in the air for a long moment before observing, “For every Christopher Pike, Jean-Luc Picard and Katheryn Janeway there’s a Ronald Tracey, Rudy Ransom, or a Donald Sandhurst.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lightner shot back.
“Sandhurst got his crew through a lot of scrapes before he joined the Amon. Taking a page from his book of tactics doesn’t make you him, Captain. Tracey and Ransom were also good captains, right up until they encountered circumstances they couldn’t overcome that broke them. Each of them, in their own twisted way, thought they were doing the right thing.”
“You’re justifying their actions?”
“Not at all. I’m simply observing humanoid nature. Each of us has a breaking point, and often we’re not entirely sure what we’re capable of until we’re pushed beyond that point. Just because some of the captains you served under early in your career made poor decisions when pushed beyond that line doesn’t invalidate the lessons you learned from them up to that time.”
Lightner thought on that for a while. “Then why do I feel so conflicted about it?”
“Because you’re painting yourself with the same judgmental brush as the captain you’re taking inspiration from. Just because Sandhurst might have done what you did with the Romulans, you’re allowing all the anger and shame you’ve directed at him over the years to flow back onto you.”
“Bridge to Captain Lightner.”
“Go ahead.”
“The Romulan prisoners are regaining consciousness in the brig, sir. You wanted to be notified.”
“Yes, thank you. I’m on my way.”
Lightner stood, pausing to consider Rendro. “Thank you, Counselor.”
“Any time, Captain.”
* * *
The two men sat in silence for a few moments, as Lightner’s brooding smothered the compartment like vacuum.
“You’re angry,” Counselor Rendro noted. “Why is that?”
“We’re still sitting here. We have the time crystals, we have Dr. Kemet, and we just slaughtered two ships full of Romulan radicals, and yet DTI won’t let us leave. The goddamn mission’s over,” Lightner seethed.
“Perhaps DTI’s just making sure they’ve covered all their bases?” Rendro posited. “Aren’t we still waiting on their research team to arrive?”
“Yes,” Lightner allowed grudgingly. “More arrogant bureaucrats underfoot.”
“DTI’s an annoyance, to be sure, but that’s not why you’re angry,” Rendro said.
“It’s not?” Lightner snapped.
“No,” Rendro replied calmly. “You’ve voluntarily signed all the waivers and you know full well I’m a telepath who reads your thoughts as part of our therapeutic work, so if you’re comfortable trying to bullshit me while wasting both our time, you go right ahead. It’s not my captaincy on the line here.”
Lightner expelled an irritated sigh. “Fine. I’m angry at having to massacre those Romulans.”
“The Romulans who staged an attack on our ship and would have killed all of us without hesitation if they’d been able to get their hands on Dr. Kemet and those crystals? Those Romulans?”
“I realize it doesn’t make rational sense, Counselor. But, yes, I’m angry about it.”
“Why?” Rendro pressed.
“It feels… it feels like I’m the bad guy here. It feels like something— like the kind of thing I’ve tried to avoid since becoming a commanding officer.”
“How so?”
“The cheating in this circumstance, my overwhelming advantage. I had information I shouldn’t have, and the Romulans didn’t stand a chance with the ambush I laid out for them. I didn’t even try to talk them down, I just pulled the trigger as soon as they decloaked.”
“They didn’t come to talk,” Rendro countered. “You didn’t violate any Starfleet protocols, and you successfully defended your ship against what was supposed to have been their ambush.”
“I know all that,” Lightner protested.
“So why are you angry?”
“Because it’s what he would have done!” Lightner blurted.
Rendro allowed the outburst to hang in the air for a long moment before observing, “For every Christopher Pike, Jean-Luc Picard and Katheryn Janeway there’s a Ronald Tracey, Rudy Ransom, or a Donald Sandhurst.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lightner shot back.
“Sandhurst got his crew through a lot of scrapes before he joined the Amon. Taking a page from his book of tactics doesn’t make you him, Captain. Tracey and Ransom were also good captains, right up until they encountered circumstances they couldn’t overcome that broke them. Each of them, in their own twisted way, thought they were doing the right thing.”
“You’re justifying their actions?”
“Not at all. I’m simply observing humanoid nature. Each of us has a breaking point, and often we’re not entirely sure what we’re capable of until we’re pushed beyond that point. Just because some of the captains you served under early in your career made poor decisions when pushed beyond that line doesn’t invalidate the lessons you learned from them up to that time.”
Lightner thought on that for a while. “Then why do I feel so conflicted about it?”
“Because you’re painting yourself with the same judgmental brush as the captain you’re taking inspiration from. Just because Sandhurst might have done what you did with the Romulans, you’re allowing all the anger and shame you’ve directed at him over the years to flow back onto you.”
“Bridge to Captain Lightner.”
“Go ahead.”
“The Romulan prisoners are regaining consciousness in the brig, sir. You wanted to be notified.”
“Yes, thank you. I’m on my way.”
Lightner stood, pausing to consider Rendro. “Thank you, Counselor.”
“Any time, Captain.”
* * *
Last edited:
Great counseling scene. Reminds me of Jed's counseling scene in West Wing. Nice callbacks to STO and STV. In the case of Ransom, it was suggested that his go-to move was a sign and outgrowth or expression of his weakness. I'm wondering if Lightner is keying in on that.
I get the idea that hanging around waiting for more DTI is a bad idea - as I have suspicions about the lone DTI agent...
Thanks!! rbs
**Author's note: My apologies for dropping this story, as I found myself with a nearly insurmountable bout of writer's block with it. So, after a 9-month delay, I've decided to finish this beast.
_____________________________________________________
* * *
Lightner entered the security bay to discover Agent Pokrol already interrogating a Romulan officer in an adjoining interview room.
“How is it that Agent Pokrol’s interviewing prisoners?” Lightner inquired of the junior lieutenant manning the security workstation.
“Sir?” the younger woman appeared confused. “Our standing orders from you are to give DTI full cooperation. Did I miss an update, Captain?”
Lightner hesitated a moment before shaking his head. “No, Lieutenant, no update. I’m just surprised he’s jumped on this so quickly. Is this his first interview?”
“No, sir. His second.”
He utilized his command override code to access the interview room’s audio system as he inserted a small earpiece from the security console.
“…nd the temporal variances involved?” Pokrol was saying.
“I know nothing of such things,” the man replied heatedly. “I fly the ship, that’s all. All the time-wizardry, all that is the others’ affair. I’ve never believed half of the idiocy they’ve spewed about restoring Romulus and the empire. They’re chasing after childish fantasies.”
“You must know something,” Pokrol insisted. “Your ships are equipped with temporal weaponry.”
“Weaponry designed and maintained by the scientists,” the centurion rebutted. “I need not know the scientific theory behind a weapon to aim the thing. It is enough that I pull the trigger and it fires.”
Pokrol stared at the centurion for a long moment, then stood abruptly and made his way to the exit.
The door slid aside to reveal Lightner on the other side.
“Captain,” Pokrol said dismissively, moving past him. He had begun to gesture towards another of the prisoners when his wrist-communicator chimed.
“Bridge to Agent Pokrol.”
“Go ahead.”
“Your team’s runabout is on approach. They’ll be touching down in the main shuttlebay in fifteen minutes.”
“Understood,” he said, closing the channel.
As Pokrol exited the compartment, Lightner turned and stepped into the interview room, closing the door behind him, and taking a seat across from the stone-faced Romulan centurion.
“Salmis. Where is he? Was he on one of your ships or is he at some other location?”
The Romulan’s expression shifted just enough that it might as well as been a flinch or a full-fledged gasp of surprise.
“Where is Salmis?” Lightner repeated.
“I don’t—”
“Spare me the lies, Sub-Lieutenant,” Lightner said reasonably. “How do you think we knew you were coming? He betrayed you, and now hundreds of your comrades are dead and you’re here, my prisoner.”
A green flush crept up the Romulan’s neck.
“Where is Salmis?” Lightner asked again.
* * *
Pokrol was standing by as the DTI team disembarked the runabout, dressed in nondescript civilian garb and carrying assorted bags with them.
The Deltan team leader, Afnaran, inclined his head to Pokrol as he passed. “Have you been behaving yourself? I trust I won’t have to be smoothing over any damaged relationships with Starfleet again?”
Pokrol glowered. “Just establishing an effective chain-of-command. I would remind you that I have been assigned to lead this mission.”
Afnaran, his bald head encircled by a stylized headband, stared down at his shorter subordinate. “We’re investigators, not the secret police. Cooperation isn’t elicited by antagonistic posturing. You have a habit of making our assignments more complicated than they need to be.”
Pokrol fell in beside him, casting a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the team, who pretended not to be listening. “We can discuss this later.”
“If you insist,” Afnaran conceded. “I’ve been reading up on the ship’s captain. He doesn’t strike me as someone we want to anger.”
“Lightner? He’s an indecisive burnout, one whose already learned the importance of cooperating with our priorities,” Pokrol announced, the hint of pride in his tone unmistakable.
“And just how did this supposed ‘burnout’ land a choice command like Gibraltar?” Afnaran asked acidly.
“The last ship Lightner commanded was on its way home from a deep-space exploration assignment and just missed the Frontier Day Borg fiasco by a matter of weeks. Starfleet lost hundreds of command-level officers in a single day. He was basically awarded the ship by default.”
Afnaran shook his head. “How you can study a person’s service record so thoroughly, yet misunderstand it so completely is beyond me.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that man has been tested, repeatedly throughout his career. He may appear broken and easily swayed, but you’re just the kind of pain in the ass to remind him what he’s made of.”
Pokrol shook his head. “I don’t see it. I’ve met the man up close, and he doesn’t have it in him to put a fight.”
“Suit yourself,” Afnaran replied with just a hint of fatalism.
* * *
Lighter waited patiently for the door to Dr. Kemet’s guest cabin to open. The security specialist standing next to the hatch stared straight ahead after having briefly acknowledged the captain’s arrival.
Kemet finally toggled the doors open, her expression yielding mild surprise and some relief that he was not one of the DTI detachment. “Captain Lightner. Please, come in.”
She invited him to sit on the couch in front of the viewports, taking a chair across the low coffee table from him. “What can I do for you?”
“Doctor, I’ve been contacted by one of the researchers from the Revisionist faction. He… well, he contacted me decades in the future, events that I’m able to remember now due to some manner of inter-temporal memory engram activity.”
Kemet’s face registered curiosity. “How extraordinary. You’ve confirmed this contact?”
“As best we’re able, yes. In fact, Temporal Investigations verified it.”
“And what did this person say?” she asked.
“He’s continued trying to recruit me to assist him with his plan to recover Romulus from before its destruction.” Lightner sat forward, exuding an energy and enthusiasm Kemet had yet to see from him. “Could they really do it, Doctor? Could they actually go back in time and shift Romulus elsewhere before the supernova?”
She was silent for a moment before hesitantly offering, “Theoretically, yes. Nothing that I’ve seen would preclude them from making the attempt. The size of the crystals involved appear to have little or no impact on their temporal potential.”
“And if we were to assist them,” Lightner pressed. “How many billions of lives could we save?”
“To what end, Captain?” Kemet shot back with a spark of genuine anger. She stood, her frame rigid with indignation as she vented her truth, a truth kept far too long in check. “All those people are long dead. Their families have mourned and moved on. Widowers have taken new spouses; orphans have grown to adulthood. Even if they could be saved, what kinds of lives would they come back to?
“The empire was teetering on the brink long before our star went nova. The fact that a dying human clone backed by Reman separatists could have so easily overthrown the senate was proof enough of that. Rampant corruption polluted all levels of government and industry while the people at the bottom eked out a meager living hand-to-mouth. The Tal Shiar and the military stamped out all political and social opposition, while we squeezed our imperial holdings for every scrap of ore we could get our hands on. As far as economic neocolonialism goes, we Romulans put pre-war Cardassia to shame!”
Lightner was struck speechless by the venom and anguish Kemet had directed at him, finding himself without words with which to respond.
“Despite the horrific loss of life, the destruction of Romulus is the best thing to happen to the Romulan people in a thousand years, Captain. The social and political upheaval, the fracturing of the state and the weakening of the Tal Shiar, all have freed our society in ways which may never have been possible otherwise.
“The Revisionists seek a return to the old ways, to the graft and repression that kept our people from achieving their true potential. Even if I thought it feasible, I would not help them.” She turned her back on Lightner, staring out the viewport at unfamiliar constellations. “And even if it could be done, Romulus would be torn apart in the process. The planet would be wracked by massive tidal forces as Remus vanishes from its orbit, shaken to its core by tectonic spasms that would lay waste every major population center. Millions would die, and it would take the combined might of our entire culture decades to rebuild it.”
Lightner stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. “So, this was all a fantasy? Despite their acquiring the time crystals, it was never a real possibility?”
She looked back at him and then turned to face him fully. “They only want what Romulus represents. The people, the infrastructure, all that is secondary. If the planet itself is recovered, they believe they can use that symbolism to reforge a new Romulan Empire.”
“I see.”
“Do you, Captain?” Kemet’s face darkened, her eyes glistening. “We spent a decade cursing the Federation for refusing to help us any further after their rescue fleet was destroyed at Mars. But it turns out that we did that to ourselves, too. The attack ended up being the work of a core cadre of the Tal Shiar, a cult of anti-AI extremists. Every step of the way we Romulans have seen fit to turn emergencies into tragedies, cutting off our collective nose to spite our face, as you humans say.”
Lightner shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I thought I saw some hope in all this… a chance to undo a great catastrophe that robbed your people of so much. I was obviously being naïve.”
Kemet touched her side, offering a sad smile. “Your heart was in the right place…” she moved her hand to her chest, the location of the human heart. “Almost.”
Lighter actually smiled at that.
“I’d always considered myself a patriot, right up until The Fall,” Kemet continued. “Only after was I able to see how flawed, corrupt, and fragile Romulan society had become. My exposure to the Federation, even with all its many issues, has shown me what we might someday strive to become. Many supposed experts refer to The Fall and the Diaspora as a fixed historical event. It’s not. It’s still happening, all around us. The Revisionists, the New Rihann Separatists, the Free State, all the other factions, all the scheming and infighting, it's all part of the continuing collapse and reformation of our society.”
Lightner dipped his head. “Again, please forgive my gullibility, Dr. Kemet. I realize now that the Revisionist agenda is unrealistic. I would, however, ask for your help in utilizing the time crystals in achieving something far less drastic.”
Kemet quirked an eyebrow in an unconsciously Vulcan-like gesture. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”
“My crewmembers that died during the Revisionist attack on Chedrova VI, I’m going back for them. I know DTI will object, and that they’re obligated to try and stop me. I don’t care.”
Kemet’s chin lifted slightly, her eyes narrowing. “I’m listening, Captain.”
* * *
_____________________________________________________
* * *
Lightner entered the security bay to discover Agent Pokrol already interrogating a Romulan officer in an adjoining interview room.
“How is it that Agent Pokrol’s interviewing prisoners?” Lightner inquired of the junior lieutenant manning the security workstation.
“Sir?” the younger woman appeared confused. “Our standing orders from you are to give DTI full cooperation. Did I miss an update, Captain?”
Lightner hesitated a moment before shaking his head. “No, Lieutenant, no update. I’m just surprised he’s jumped on this so quickly. Is this his first interview?”
“No, sir. His second.”
He utilized his command override code to access the interview room’s audio system as he inserted a small earpiece from the security console.
“…nd the temporal variances involved?” Pokrol was saying.
“I know nothing of such things,” the man replied heatedly. “I fly the ship, that’s all. All the time-wizardry, all that is the others’ affair. I’ve never believed half of the idiocy they’ve spewed about restoring Romulus and the empire. They’re chasing after childish fantasies.”
“You must know something,” Pokrol insisted. “Your ships are equipped with temporal weaponry.”
“Weaponry designed and maintained by the scientists,” the centurion rebutted. “I need not know the scientific theory behind a weapon to aim the thing. It is enough that I pull the trigger and it fires.”
Pokrol stared at the centurion for a long moment, then stood abruptly and made his way to the exit.
The door slid aside to reveal Lightner on the other side.
“Captain,” Pokrol said dismissively, moving past him. He had begun to gesture towards another of the prisoners when his wrist-communicator chimed.
“Bridge to Agent Pokrol.”
“Go ahead.”
“Your team’s runabout is on approach. They’ll be touching down in the main shuttlebay in fifteen minutes.”
“Understood,” he said, closing the channel.
As Pokrol exited the compartment, Lightner turned and stepped into the interview room, closing the door behind him, and taking a seat across from the stone-faced Romulan centurion.
“Salmis. Where is he? Was he on one of your ships or is he at some other location?”
The Romulan’s expression shifted just enough that it might as well as been a flinch or a full-fledged gasp of surprise.
“Where is Salmis?” Lightner repeated.
“I don’t—”
“Spare me the lies, Sub-Lieutenant,” Lightner said reasonably. “How do you think we knew you were coming? He betrayed you, and now hundreds of your comrades are dead and you’re here, my prisoner.”
A green flush crept up the Romulan’s neck.
“Where is Salmis?” Lightner asked again.
* * *
Pokrol was standing by as the DTI team disembarked the runabout, dressed in nondescript civilian garb and carrying assorted bags with them.
The Deltan team leader, Afnaran, inclined his head to Pokrol as he passed. “Have you been behaving yourself? I trust I won’t have to be smoothing over any damaged relationships with Starfleet again?”
Pokrol glowered. “Just establishing an effective chain-of-command. I would remind you that I have been assigned to lead this mission.”
Afnaran, his bald head encircled by a stylized headband, stared down at his shorter subordinate. “We’re investigators, not the secret police. Cooperation isn’t elicited by antagonistic posturing. You have a habit of making our assignments more complicated than they need to be.”
Pokrol fell in beside him, casting a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the team, who pretended not to be listening. “We can discuss this later.”
“If you insist,” Afnaran conceded. “I’ve been reading up on the ship’s captain. He doesn’t strike me as someone we want to anger.”
“Lightner? He’s an indecisive burnout, one whose already learned the importance of cooperating with our priorities,” Pokrol announced, the hint of pride in his tone unmistakable.
“And just how did this supposed ‘burnout’ land a choice command like Gibraltar?” Afnaran asked acidly.
“The last ship Lightner commanded was on its way home from a deep-space exploration assignment and just missed the Frontier Day Borg fiasco by a matter of weeks. Starfleet lost hundreds of command-level officers in a single day. He was basically awarded the ship by default.”
Afnaran shook his head. “How you can study a person’s service record so thoroughly, yet misunderstand it so completely is beyond me.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that man has been tested, repeatedly throughout his career. He may appear broken and easily swayed, but you’re just the kind of pain in the ass to remind him what he’s made of.”
Pokrol shook his head. “I don’t see it. I’ve met the man up close, and he doesn’t have it in him to put a fight.”
“Suit yourself,” Afnaran replied with just a hint of fatalism.
* * *
Lighter waited patiently for the door to Dr. Kemet’s guest cabin to open. The security specialist standing next to the hatch stared straight ahead after having briefly acknowledged the captain’s arrival.
Kemet finally toggled the doors open, her expression yielding mild surprise and some relief that he was not one of the DTI detachment. “Captain Lightner. Please, come in.”
She invited him to sit on the couch in front of the viewports, taking a chair across the low coffee table from him. “What can I do for you?”
“Doctor, I’ve been contacted by one of the researchers from the Revisionist faction. He… well, he contacted me decades in the future, events that I’m able to remember now due to some manner of inter-temporal memory engram activity.”
Kemet’s face registered curiosity. “How extraordinary. You’ve confirmed this contact?”
“As best we’re able, yes. In fact, Temporal Investigations verified it.”
“And what did this person say?” she asked.
“He’s continued trying to recruit me to assist him with his plan to recover Romulus from before its destruction.” Lightner sat forward, exuding an energy and enthusiasm Kemet had yet to see from him. “Could they really do it, Doctor? Could they actually go back in time and shift Romulus elsewhere before the supernova?”
She was silent for a moment before hesitantly offering, “Theoretically, yes. Nothing that I’ve seen would preclude them from making the attempt. The size of the crystals involved appear to have little or no impact on their temporal potential.”
“And if we were to assist them,” Lightner pressed. “How many billions of lives could we save?”
“To what end, Captain?” Kemet shot back with a spark of genuine anger. She stood, her frame rigid with indignation as she vented her truth, a truth kept far too long in check. “All those people are long dead. Their families have mourned and moved on. Widowers have taken new spouses; orphans have grown to adulthood. Even if they could be saved, what kinds of lives would they come back to?
“The empire was teetering on the brink long before our star went nova. The fact that a dying human clone backed by Reman separatists could have so easily overthrown the senate was proof enough of that. Rampant corruption polluted all levels of government and industry while the people at the bottom eked out a meager living hand-to-mouth. The Tal Shiar and the military stamped out all political and social opposition, while we squeezed our imperial holdings for every scrap of ore we could get our hands on. As far as economic neocolonialism goes, we Romulans put pre-war Cardassia to shame!”
Lightner was struck speechless by the venom and anguish Kemet had directed at him, finding himself without words with which to respond.
“Despite the horrific loss of life, the destruction of Romulus is the best thing to happen to the Romulan people in a thousand years, Captain. The social and political upheaval, the fracturing of the state and the weakening of the Tal Shiar, all have freed our society in ways which may never have been possible otherwise.
“The Revisionists seek a return to the old ways, to the graft and repression that kept our people from achieving their true potential. Even if I thought it feasible, I would not help them.” She turned her back on Lightner, staring out the viewport at unfamiliar constellations. “And even if it could be done, Romulus would be torn apart in the process. The planet would be wracked by massive tidal forces as Remus vanishes from its orbit, shaken to its core by tectonic spasms that would lay waste every major population center. Millions would die, and it would take the combined might of our entire culture decades to rebuild it.”
Lightner stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. “So, this was all a fantasy? Despite their acquiring the time crystals, it was never a real possibility?”
She looked back at him and then turned to face him fully. “They only want what Romulus represents. The people, the infrastructure, all that is secondary. If the planet itself is recovered, they believe they can use that symbolism to reforge a new Romulan Empire.”
“I see.”
“Do you, Captain?” Kemet’s face darkened, her eyes glistening. “We spent a decade cursing the Federation for refusing to help us any further after their rescue fleet was destroyed at Mars. But it turns out that we did that to ourselves, too. The attack ended up being the work of a core cadre of the Tal Shiar, a cult of anti-AI extremists. Every step of the way we Romulans have seen fit to turn emergencies into tragedies, cutting off our collective nose to spite our face, as you humans say.”
Lightner shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I thought I saw some hope in all this… a chance to undo a great catastrophe that robbed your people of so much. I was obviously being naïve.”
Kemet touched her side, offering a sad smile. “Your heart was in the right place…” she moved her hand to her chest, the location of the human heart. “Almost.”
Lighter actually smiled at that.
“I’d always considered myself a patriot, right up until The Fall,” Kemet continued. “Only after was I able to see how flawed, corrupt, and fragile Romulan society had become. My exposure to the Federation, even with all its many issues, has shown me what we might someday strive to become. Many supposed experts refer to The Fall and the Diaspora as a fixed historical event. It’s not. It’s still happening, all around us. The Revisionists, the New Rihann Separatists, the Free State, all the other factions, all the scheming and infighting, it's all part of the continuing collapse and reformation of our society.”
Lightner dipped his head. “Again, please forgive my gullibility, Dr. Kemet. I realize now that the Revisionist agenda is unrealistic. I would, however, ask for your help in utilizing the time crystals in achieving something far less drastic.”
Kemet quirked an eyebrow in an unconsciously Vulcan-like gesture. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”
“My crewmembers that died during the Revisionist attack on Chedrova VI, I’m going back for them. I know DTI will object, and that they’re obligated to try and stop me. I don’t care.”
Kemet’s chin lifted slightly, her eyes narrowing. “I’m listening, Captain.”
* * *
Last edited:
I am ready for more, please. I could see this as a new series. Gibraltar: The Next Generation.
Welcome back after a long absence - glad you're picking this story back up! Time is a very dangerous thing to mess around with, so this could turn out to be a really seriously interesting story...
I've been suffering more than a little writer's block myself. I've been stuck in the middle of Episode 9 of Star Beagle Adventures for at least a month and I'm just now beginning to see how to move forward with it. Sometimes you have to take the writing offline and just daydream about where the story might go.
Thanks!!! rbs
I've been suffering more than a little writer's block myself. I've been stuck in the middle of Episode 9 of Star Beagle Adventures for at least a month and I'm just now beginning to see how to move forward with it. Sometimes you have to take the writing offline and just daydream about where the story might go.
Thanks!!! rbs
Oh boy. Very excited, but I think I need to go back and re-read this from the beginning. Not that that's a bad thing. 
Well, it was genuinely fun re-reading the installments to date. Interesting pivot here. Even more intriguing, in that we don't truly know whether Salmis' influence has been completely undermined. I also find it interesting that, as much as he may resent and rue much of Sandhurst's actions and their imprint on him, Lightner continues to follow in his former Captain's "unorthodox" footsteps in no small measure. No doubt, DTI will be none too pleased with the next steps that are hinted at here. I can't wait to see where this goes.
As per usual, a very nicely tuned conversational chapter, particularly the parts between Lightner (who would have ever expected that guy to make something of himself?) and Kemet. I particulalry enjoyed her insight into the plans of bringing Romulus back. I was porbalby with Lightner, great idea when you first hear about it. Bringing everyone who died back. But Kemet has a far more convincing argument. It's history now. People have dealt with it and moved on. Let it be history. Those who want it back, just want it back for the sake of reclaiming lost power and glory.
Similar threads
