ST: Independence 06 "Crimes and Shadows"
- Thread starter Dnoth
- Start date
PROLOGE
Stardate 53181.4 (7 March 2376)
Starbase 17 (Althos IV)
In a darkened room, there were whispers. The room was lit only with a small monitor. Admiral Alynna Nechayev’s short golden hair reflected what little light was being sent from the screen. Only a Federation logo and a security protocol were displayed.
“What’s your recommendation on the Independence and her crew?” The voice from the speakers was one of an elderly woman. It was interrupted sporadically by static.
Nechayev thought before she spoke, “I think we need to make contact.”
“Why?”
“Well, the security officer is already in contact with Bashir,” elaborated Nechayev.
The elderly woman came back, “If we know that, so do our adversaries. They watch Bashir constantly now.”
“Agreed,” replied Nechayev.
“What about the captain?”
Nechayev looked down, “I’m more concerned about her. Her psych profile indicates she’s not much of an independent thinker. She follows the rules and stays within the system.” Alynna shrugged, “On the other hand, she certainly thwarted one of their plans. But that’s simply because she stumbled upon it.”
The voice began again, “That’s how most of our officers came to our attention. Just look at the Pegasus incident.”
“True,” accepted the admiral. She continued, “The captain also sent in a report alleging one of her academy friends was complicit in a massacre. That says something of her character, doesn’t it?”
“Yes it does. The question is: did she do that out of her sense of integrity or because she was just following procedure?”
Admiral Nechayev nodded in agreement. The old woman knew her enough to know what the silence meant.
“Who put her in charge of that warship?”
Nechayev didn’t need to pick up the padd next to her to reveal the answer. “Ross signed off on the order.”
A faint groan of acknowledgement was heard before she began to speak again. “He obviously thought she could be an asset. No doubt, he read the same psych profile you did.”
“We still need to identify her as friend or foe,” reasoned the admiral.
“Agreed. Attempt to evaluate her when she gets there. Determine her character. We can proceed from there.”
Nechayev concluded, “Yes, ma’am.” She touched her console. All the light in the room was removed.
Stardate 53181.4 (7 March 2376)
Starbase 17 (Althos IV)
In a darkened room, there were whispers. The room was lit only with a small monitor. Admiral Alynna Nechayev’s short golden hair reflected what little light was being sent from the screen. Only a Federation logo and a security protocol were displayed.
“What’s your recommendation on the Independence and her crew?” The voice from the speakers was one of an elderly woman. It was interrupted sporadically by static.
Nechayev thought before she spoke, “I think we need to make contact.”
“Why?”
“Well, the security officer is already in contact with Bashir,” elaborated Nechayev.
The elderly woman came back, “If we know that, so do our adversaries. They watch Bashir constantly now.”
“Agreed,” replied Nechayev.
“What about the captain?”
Nechayev looked down, “I’m more concerned about her. Her psych profile indicates she’s not much of an independent thinker. She follows the rules and stays within the system.” Alynna shrugged, “On the other hand, she certainly thwarted one of their plans. But that’s simply because she stumbled upon it.”
The voice began again, “That’s how most of our officers came to our attention. Just look at the Pegasus incident.”
“True,” accepted the admiral. She continued, “The captain also sent in a report alleging one of her academy friends was complicit in a massacre. That says something of her character, doesn’t it?”
“Yes it does. The question is: did she do that out of her sense of integrity or because she was just following procedure?”
Admiral Nechayev nodded in agreement. The old woman knew her enough to know what the silence meant.
“Who put her in charge of that warship?”
Nechayev didn’t need to pick up the padd next to her to reveal the answer. “Ross signed off on the order.”
A faint groan of acknowledgement was heard before she began to speak again. “He obviously thought she could be an asset. No doubt, he read the same psych profile you did.”
“We still need to identify her as friend or foe,” reasoned the admiral.
“Agreed. Attempt to evaluate her when she gets there. Determine her character. We can proceed from there.”
Nechayev concluded, “Yes, ma’am.” She touched her console. All the light in the room was removed.
Probably. "You're re-examining your core beliefs, something most people never do."
- Dr. Phlox to T'Pol (ST: ENT “Daedalus”)
CHAPTER 1
USS Thunderchild
Stardate: 53190.8 (10 March 2376)
Current Location: CLASSIFIED
The water felt cool and clean. Admiral William Ross breast stroked about a meter under the surface. Beneath him was a recreation of the Great Barrier Reef; though, he had the salt in the water removed. He went there as a teenager once. The corals and fish were at the same time a visual onslaught and the most serene sight he had ever observed.
He often swam after a stressful day. Today qualified. A few hours ago, Ross sent a communiqué to his contact… handler, more accurately. The admiral had been dealing with these people off and on since he was a commander on the Leonov. But had only started working with this “Morgan” after the death of “Sloan.” At any one time he only knew one person inside Section 31. It served not only to protect them, but him as well. Morgan would no doubt give new instructions to him now.
Morgan made contact just after the war ended. Section 31 had grown much, more bold from only a few years ago. Morgan instructed Ross to start transferring “controllable” officers to a new Soverigen class starship. Ross never asked why. He didn’t have to. The organization wanted a ship to use without interference from a self-righteous, or honorable, captain and crew. Ross would be the link between the shadow and the light. It was not a position he felt comfortable with. He only hoped Section 31 hadn’t realized that fact.
An unexpected event had come up regarding Windslow; whom was to captain the ship. Hiding a command code was one thing. But would he really have to silence two officers? If asked, he had little choice in the matter. One does not say “no” to 31.
He heard a voice muffled by the water. He began to tread.
“…Ross,” it was the bridge.
“Computer end program.” The admiral was instantly dry. The water, fish, and tranquility dematerialized; revealing the hard reality of the hologrid. “Yes commander, what is it?”
“Sir,” the duty officer continued, “You have a priority code gamma transmission.”
“Pipe it down here,” said Ross. He ordered a robe, which he put on, as he made his way to the arch. He tapped in his security code and activated the display. As expected, it was Morgan. Morgan was a dark skinned human male. He looked to be rather muscular with short hair and a fine mustache. He had a casual, almost jovial, façade. Ross wondered if that was just another deception.
“Catch you at a bad time?” mused Morgan.
Ross’ expression was deadpan, “Would it matter?”
A laugh came from the Section 31 operative, “No, not a bit.” He then recovered himself and came to the point. “So, it appears we have a snag with the Runner.”
The admiral similarly didn’t beat around the bush, “Do you want the two witnesses suppressed?” He dreaded the answer, but he’d rather know it now.
Morgan smiled silently for a moment; no doubt assessing Ross. He shook his head, “No, the Runner isn’t worth the effort. We’ll have to find someone else to captain the Philidelphia.”
“What do you want done with him?” questioned Ross.
The operative shrugged as if Ross had just asked him what he wanted for dinner. “He’s tainted goods. I don’t care what you do with him now.”
The weight of the world was lifted right then and there for the admiral. He pushed aside any guilt for giving Windslow false hope.
*****
Stardate 53241.5 (29 March 2376)
USS Independence
Althos Star System
The stars around the USS Independence seemed to become points of light again, from the lines they were a moment ago, as the ship returned to normal space.
The quiet in the ready room ended abruptly. “Computer begin log,” commanded Captain Sintina Aurelia as she put down a report of mundane ship functions. She just finished skimming them. She sat and twisted in her chair. The computer chirped in response.
“Captain’s Log, stardate 53241.5,” began Sintina with a large sigh, “I doubt the next few days will be good ones.” The captain sat back in her chair and closes her eyes. “We’ll be docking at Starbase 17 in about an hour. We were ordered here for two reasons; both bad.” She swiveled gently. “Given the circumstances of my promotion, I have never been through Starfleet’s Captain’s Course. An over sight that Admiral Nechayev wants to correct.” She smiled, “And here I thought I could get through the cracks.” Her smirk evaporated. “The second reason would have been cause for celebration a few months ago, but now…” She sat up and opened her eyes. Sintina was annoyed at herself for having lowered her guard and allowing Windslow to become, well tolerable. “Computer, erase last sentence.”
*****
Ethan Windslow’s head went down in shame. His wife, Susan, noticed a minor scar that ran from just above his right ear into his very short hair. It left a trail as if a barber cut his hair too deep. She noticed it before but never thought to ask where it came from. She had always assumed he got from some wound he received in the war. Though, now she wondered why he hadn’t had the scar removed. How could such a trivial thought be going through my head now? Now that Ethan’s going to be court-martialed?
Ethan saw his legs and the tan carpet beneath his feet. He looked through the glass table his arms were resting on. He knew Susan asked him something. He knew the question and was grateful his children were at a field trip in astrometrics. Finally, he looked up at her shoulder length blonde hair, pale skin and hazel eyes. This secret could be kept no longer. He uttered the words he never wanted to tell her, “I’m accused of conduct unbecoming an officer, among other things.”
In disbelief Susan nearly shouted, “What do they think you did?”
Ethan grimly stated, “My council will tell me the details once we reach the Starbase.”
Obviously not satisfied with the answer, Susan retorted, “But you can tell me what you know. Surely, you must have some idea…”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ethan lashed.
The Windslow family had been separated since the outbreak of the war and Ethan’s promotion to captain. Susan took the two boys, Jeff and Paul, back to Earth. Prior to that, the family had never been apart for more than a week or two. Ethan always managed to stay close to them. He even considered declining his promotion to captain because he knew how much of a toll it would take on all of them. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle the pressure of command, but his family was the priority; it always had been. At least it was.
The messages from Ethan came religiously every night. That lasted for quite awhile, then it became once every two weeks, then once a month. Susan had to hear the cries of Paul asking, “When is daddy going to call?” It was a dagger each time she heard it. Jeff, the older son, was nearly a teenager. He began to assume his father had abandoned them. Susan desperately tried to explain the situation to them both. Actions, however, speak louder than words; especially to children. Her faith in her husband was unshakable on the surface. But she rarely slept well.
After the Battle of Cardassia, she immediately booked passage to Deep Space Nine; where Ethan would be waiting for them. The instant she saw him at the airlock, she knew something had changed. The war had aged him; gray hairs and wrinkles now dominated his features. The joy in his eyes had died. He didn’t even seem happy to see the boys.
Susan immediately blamed the war. Despite his new disposition, they had been together for twelve years. It wasn’t the first time a bump was found in the road. They could fix it. She could take care of him again. Everything would be fine eventually.
At first, he was hostile. Ethan was a gentle man. A stranger had taken over her husband. He yelled at Paul once. He raised his voice before, but never like that. Afterwards, he spent all his time on the bridge or in his office. He saw Counselor Kimula a few times. It seemed to help a little, but he stopped seeing her after only two visits. Part of him was recovered, but he was still a hollow shell of what he had been.
As the weeks past, she attempted to ask questions. He refused, however, to speak of the war. She had been so patient, so accepting, so hopeful. His deception finally sank in.
Susan stood up, “I can’t believe you’ve kept me in the dark about this!” She paced a bit. After all her efforts to help him; he had been lying to her for months! She swooshed around, “We used to talk to each other! I know the war was tough on you.” The time for gently nudging him was over. She besieged him, “What happened?”
Commander Windslow remained seated. He spoke with an amazingly civil tone, “It’s better you not know.”
She crossed her arms in defiance. “Oh I’ll find out. I’m going to be there at your court-martial and there is nothing you can do about that.”
Ethan rose from his chair. He bit his lip as he struggled with the emotions of fear, embarrassment, and anger.
For a split second, Susan entertained the idea that Ethan might strike her. He never had before; but that didn’t stop her mind from thinking it. She even flinched. When she did, Susan saw a deep hurt in his face. Ethan backed away in response. Then he walked out the door. Susan couldn’t be sure, but she thought his eyes were watering.
END OF CHAPTER 1
- Dr. Phlox to T'Pol (ST: ENT “Daedalus”)
CHAPTER 1
USS Thunderchild
Stardate: 53190.8 (10 March 2376)
Current Location: CLASSIFIED
The water felt cool and clean. Admiral William Ross breast stroked about a meter under the surface. Beneath him was a recreation of the Great Barrier Reef; though, he had the salt in the water removed. He went there as a teenager once. The corals and fish were at the same time a visual onslaught and the most serene sight he had ever observed.
He often swam after a stressful day. Today qualified. A few hours ago, Ross sent a communiqué to his contact… handler, more accurately. The admiral had been dealing with these people off and on since he was a commander on the Leonov. But had only started working with this “Morgan” after the death of “Sloan.” At any one time he only knew one person inside Section 31. It served not only to protect them, but him as well. Morgan would no doubt give new instructions to him now.
Morgan made contact just after the war ended. Section 31 had grown much, more bold from only a few years ago. Morgan instructed Ross to start transferring “controllable” officers to a new Soverigen class starship. Ross never asked why. He didn’t have to. The organization wanted a ship to use without interference from a self-righteous, or honorable, captain and crew. Ross would be the link between the shadow and the light. It was not a position he felt comfortable with. He only hoped Section 31 hadn’t realized that fact.
An unexpected event had come up regarding Windslow; whom was to captain the ship. Hiding a command code was one thing. But would he really have to silence two officers? If asked, he had little choice in the matter. One does not say “no” to 31.
He heard a voice muffled by the water. He began to tread.
“…Ross,” it was the bridge.
“Computer end program.” The admiral was instantly dry. The water, fish, and tranquility dematerialized; revealing the hard reality of the hologrid. “Yes commander, what is it?”
“Sir,” the duty officer continued, “You have a priority code gamma transmission.”
“Pipe it down here,” said Ross. He ordered a robe, which he put on, as he made his way to the arch. He tapped in his security code and activated the display. As expected, it was Morgan. Morgan was a dark skinned human male. He looked to be rather muscular with short hair and a fine mustache. He had a casual, almost jovial, façade. Ross wondered if that was just another deception.
“Catch you at a bad time?” mused Morgan.
Ross’ expression was deadpan, “Would it matter?”
A laugh came from the Section 31 operative, “No, not a bit.” He then recovered himself and came to the point. “So, it appears we have a snag with the Runner.”
The admiral similarly didn’t beat around the bush, “Do you want the two witnesses suppressed?” He dreaded the answer, but he’d rather know it now.
Morgan smiled silently for a moment; no doubt assessing Ross. He shook his head, “No, the Runner isn’t worth the effort. We’ll have to find someone else to captain the Philidelphia.”
“What do you want done with him?” questioned Ross.
The operative shrugged as if Ross had just asked him what he wanted for dinner. “He’s tainted goods. I don’t care what you do with him now.”
The weight of the world was lifted right then and there for the admiral. He pushed aside any guilt for giving Windslow false hope.
*****
Stardate 53241.5 (29 March 2376)
USS Independence
Althos Star System
The stars around the USS Independence seemed to become points of light again, from the lines they were a moment ago, as the ship returned to normal space.
The quiet in the ready room ended abruptly. “Computer begin log,” commanded Captain Sintina Aurelia as she put down a report of mundane ship functions. She just finished skimming them. She sat and twisted in her chair. The computer chirped in response.
“Captain’s Log, stardate 53241.5,” began Sintina with a large sigh, “I doubt the next few days will be good ones.” The captain sat back in her chair and closes her eyes. “We’ll be docking at Starbase 17 in about an hour. We were ordered here for two reasons; both bad.” She swiveled gently. “Given the circumstances of my promotion, I have never been through Starfleet’s Captain’s Course. An over sight that Admiral Nechayev wants to correct.” She smiled, “And here I thought I could get through the cracks.” Her smirk evaporated. “The second reason would have been cause for celebration a few months ago, but now…” She sat up and opened her eyes. Sintina was annoyed at herself for having lowered her guard and allowing Windslow to become, well tolerable. “Computer, erase last sentence.”
*****
Ethan Windslow’s head went down in shame. His wife, Susan, noticed a minor scar that ran from just above his right ear into his very short hair. It left a trail as if a barber cut his hair too deep. She noticed it before but never thought to ask where it came from. She had always assumed he got from some wound he received in the war. Though, now she wondered why he hadn’t had the scar removed. How could such a trivial thought be going through my head now? Now that Ethan’s going to be court-martialed?
Ethan saw his legs and the tan carpet beneath his feet. He looked through the glass table his arms were resting on. He knew Susan asked him something. He knew the question and was grateful his children were at a field trip in astrometrics. Finally, he looked up at her shoulder length blonde hair, pale skin and hazel eyes. This secret could be kept no longer. He uttered the words he never wanted to tell her, “I’m accused of conduct unbecoming an officer, among other things.”
In disbelief Susan nearly shouted, “What do they think you did?”
Ethan grimly stated, “My council will tell me the details once we reach the Starbase.”
Obviously not satisfied with the answer, Susan retorted, “But you can tell me what you know. Surely, you must have some idea…”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ethan lashed.
The Windslow family had been separated since the outbreak of the war and Ethan’s promotion to captain. Susan took the two boys, Jeff and Paul, back to Earth. Prior to that, the family had never been apart for more than a week or two. Ethan always managed to stay close to them. He even considered declining his promotion to captain because he knew how much of a toll it would take on all of them. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle the pressure of command, but his family was the priority; it always had been. At least it was.
The messages from Ethan came religiously every night. That lasted for quite awhile, then it became once every two weeks, then once a month. Susan had to hear the cries of Paul asking, “When is daddy going to call?” It was a dagger each time she heard it. Jeff, the older son, was nearly a teenager. He began to assume his father had abandoned them. Susan desperately tried to explain the situation to them both. Actions, however, speak louder than words; especially to children. Her faith in her husband was unshakable on the surface. But she rarely slept well.
After the Battle of Cardassia, she immediately booked passage to Deep Space Nine; where Ethan would be waiting for them. The instant she saw him at the airlock, she knew something had changed. The war had aged him; gray hairs and wrinkles now dominated his features. The joy in his eyes had died. He didn’t even seem happy to see the boys.
Susan immediately blamed the war. Despite his new disposition, they had been together for twelve years. It wasn’t the first time a bump was found in the road. They could fix it. She could take care of him again. Everything would be fine eventually.
At first, he was hostile. Ethan was a gentle man. A stranger had taken over her husband. He yelled at Paul once. He raised his voice before, but never like that. Afterwards, he spent all his time on the bridge or in his office. He saw Counselor Kimula a few times. It seemed to help a little, but he stopped seeing her after only two visits. Part of him was recovered, but he was still a hollow shell of what he had been.
As the weeks past, she attempted to ask questions. He refused, however, to speak of the war. She had been so patient, so accepting, so hopeful. His deception finally sank in.
Susan stood up, “I can’t believe you’ve kept me in the dark about this!” She paced a bit. After all her efforts to help him; he had been lying to her for months! She swooshed around, “We used to talk to each other! I know the war was tough on you.” The time for gently nudging him was over. She besieged him, “What happened?”
Commander Windslow remained seated. He spoke with an amazingly civil tone, “It’s better you not know.”
She crossed her arms in defiance. “Oh I’ll find out. I’m going to be there at your court-martial and there is nothing you can do about that.”
Ethan rose from his chair. He bit his lip as he struggled with the emotions of fear, embarrassment, and anger.
For a split second, Susan entertained the idea that Ethan might strike her. He never had before; but that didn’t stop her mind from thinking it. She even flinched. When she did, Susan saw a deep hurt in his face. Ethan backed away in response. Then he walked out the door. Susan couldn’t be sure, but she thought his eyes were watering.
END OF CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
Supplemental
USS Independence
Docked with Starbase 17
Exchange officer, D’nas, hung over Chief Science Officer Tang Zian at his station in the aft section of the bridge. About a month ago, Zian invited the Tamarian to join him at Betazed’s famed beaches while they were there. Tang was refreshed by the demeanor of the exchange officer. Starfleet officers, especially the lower ranks, are notorious for large egos. Not so with D’nas. He was there to enjoy himself, which didn’t involve impressing or cheat-thumping for the locals.
Since then, they’ve been spending more off-time together. More times than not, they played pool in the Game Room. The unused crew quarters on deck 4 was turned into a recreation center by some of the senior officers. Apparently a tradition started on their former ship during the war. The relatively small room slowly became more and more congested as word spread of the existence of the place. There had been talk of moving the Game Room to the main lounge, but it hadn’t happened yet.
To be honest, D’nas had become slightly annoying to Tang. The Tamarian was always nice and pleasant to be around. But he talked too much and D’nas’ ignorance in some social matters got on Zian’s nerves. Then again, Zian probably embarrassed too easily.
Now the young provisional ensign was trying to entice him into another excursion. This time on Althos IV. Zian was hesitant, Althos IV was no Betazed.
The Althos system was home to a Federation race called the Bzzit Khaht. He had only seen a handful of Bzzit Khaht. They were generally humanoid, small in stature, and larger than ‘normal’ eyes, ears, and mouth. Their eyes resembled cat’s eyes.
The planet itself was … well, Zian really didn’t know what the planet was like. But the fact he hadn’t heard anything about their planet made him suspect it wasn’t worth the trip.
The Tamarian continued to plead. It was only when D’nas said he was going regardless if he was coming or not, did Zian relent. Tang developed a sense of obligation to watch over the exchange officer. Reluctantly, the science officer agreed.
D’nas added, "I'd like Jinal to come with us this time."
Tang began to grumble, "I don't know, he seems to like his privacy."
"I work with him all the time,” said D’nas, “He'd never admit it but, he needs a respite."
"D’nas, if he didn't want to spend time on Betazed, what makes you think he'd want to spend time on Althos IV?"
The Tamarian cocked his head and smirked, "We have a saying on Tamar, 'Na'thon at his quarry without a hammer.'"
A look of confusion washed over Tang. Instead of asking the obvious question, he just shook his head and said, "Oh … well, since you put it that way."
*****
The door to the Game Room slid open with a hiss. The trio of Counselor/com officer Kimula sh'Somachanar, Tactical/Security Officer Karim Bin Nadal, and Captain Aurelia entered.
Aurelia immediately looked around. Amazingly, no one was there. “Good.”
“Good, what?” asked Kimula.
Karim interjected, “I think Sintina preferred it when this place was our little secret.”
Kimula blushed, turning her cheeks a darker shade of blue. “I only told a few people.”
The captain rolled her eyes, “Uh-uh.”
“Besides,” continued the counselor, “The Game Room on the Midas was open to everyone.”
Aurelia glared, “I know, but I’m annoyed today. I’ve been told it’s not a good thing for the crew to see their captain annoyed.”
“Oh look at me,” mocked Kimula, “I’m mad because I have to go to a briefing.”
Aurelia sat on one side of a miniature landscape. “It’s not just that, smartass.” She looked over the table, “Where is it?”
Bin Nadal sat opposite of Sintina, “You mean Windslow?”
“No, I mean my Ranger figure. I swear if one of the crew moved it on me…”
“He’s being court-martialed, you must have some sympathy for the man,” said the Andorian as she sat at the dungeon master chair.
Sintina looked under the table, “Ah, there it is.” She picked up the small statue and put it near a miniature tree. She then, directed her eyes at Kimula, “Not if he’s guilty.”
“So are you finally going to share with us, what he did?” questioned Bin Nadal.
“I suggest you go to the court-martial and find out for yourself,” offered the captain.
“Fine be that way,” said Karim, “So if it’s not Windslow that’s bothering you, what is?”
There was a dark sarcasm in Sintina’s voice, “Well let’s see, there is a full blown insurgency going on in the Crolsa system where two ships were lost last month, and the Romulan military governor on Cardassia Prime was assassinated just last week. What’s to be bothered about?”
Kimula nodded, “So that’s what this is really about.”
“Damn right.” Aurelia’s voice grew louder, “There are shortages everywhere. The Founder will be on her way to Nimbus III soon. We could be escorting her; but no, where is the fleet’s most powerful warship? … At a Starbase!”
Bin Nadal chimed in, “I still don’t understand why we took the Founder to 375 last December.”
Sintina waved it off, “Not everything needs to be on the news. See the media craze her movements are making now?”
Bin Nadal reached into a small pouch he had brought with him, revealing his own elf sorcerer figure. His organization skills earned him a scowl from Sintina.
Karim was tempted to continue the conversation about the Founder. He still hadn’t informed his captain and friend about what she told him while he guarded her during that trip. He knew Sintina well enough to know she wouldn’t believe it anyway. He took another route instead, “I heard about the Crolsa system. Did you know an old Constitution class actually won a battle with a Galor? The captain had to ram a derelict Nova class to do it, but…”
Aurelia interrupted, “Down goes another ship.”
“It worked, didn't it?” countered the Persian tactical officer.
The captain ignored him, “We should be on the front lines; it was what this ship was built for. But yet again, some almighty admiral can’t see past their own desk.”
Karim finally decided to start nudging the conversation, “Speaking of such things, whatever came of those inquiries to Starfleet about who issued the orders for us to go to that prison camp in January?”
Aurelia looked up, obviously annoyed. “I got the run around. Obviously, Ross gave them to me but I haven't been able to find out who originally issued them.”
“It must be Admiral Whatley,” ventured Bin Nadal, “You said he acted strange when you told him we found the Klingon equipment on a Starfleet ship.”
Kimula shook her head, “I still think the both of you are too inclined to believe that Garak person. I mean for all we know he could have made all that stuff up about you ticking someone off while we were at Cardassia Prime.” She got the quest book out, “Besides that, I can’t believe someone in Starfleet would send us on a rescue mission just to set you up. It seems awfully elaborate.”
Captain Aurelia cracked a small smile, “You implying I’m not worth the effort?”
“Implying? Was I not direct enough?” joked the Andorian.
Sintina shrugged after she lost her smile, “I haven't been able to prove it either way." She sighed, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve worked myself up over nothing.”
Bin Nadal wasn’t so dismissive, “I haven’t heard anything new on any investigation as to how those items ended up the Starfleet ship, have you?”
“No,” admitted Aurelia, “No, I haven’t. I was told Admiral Boral of Starfleet Security was going to handle it.”
The mention of the Andorian admiral brought back disturbing memories for Karim. It was three and a half months ago when the Midas took her last cruise to Starbase 375. It was there that Bin Nadal witnessed Boral supervising the torture of the Founder using a device that inhibited her shape shifting. Boral claimed it was only restraining her, but one only had to look at the Founder to know it was doing more than that.
Bin Nadal had to tell Sintina but he was afraid of losing credibility with her. If there was even a chance of it being true, she had to know. He worked up his courage, “Captain, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. But I didn’t want to bring it up, since I don’t have any real proof, and I didn’t want to upset you any more than you…”
She rolled her head, “Just tell me, Karim.”
The security chief had already confided in Kimula. She had been encouraging him to tell Sintina for weeks. He looked at her as if to ask approval for what he was about to say. The Andorian nodded, her antenna slightly waving.
Karim began explaining, “I’ve been corresponding with a Dr. Bashir from Deep Space Nine…”
Aurelia jumped in, “The one who cured the Founders?”
“The same.”
“I don’t know how much I’d trust him,” said Aurelia, “But go on.”
The attack right off the bat took some wind out of Karim’s sails, but he pressed on. There was no going back now, “Well, he claims there is some sort of clandestine group within the Federation and Starfleet. He calls them ‘Section 31.’”
For several minutes, Bin Nadal relayed everything he had learned in the last few months; to the Founder’s claim of the Breen fleet being detected in the Sol system, to the encounter with Admiral Boral, to the attempted genocide of the changelings, everything. She had an odd expression on her face as he explained it all, but she didn’t interrupt him. That, in itself, surprised him. Her reaction wasn’t what he hoped for, but it was what he expected.
“I can believe a group of vindictive admirals are out there,” began Aurelia, “But I refuse to believe there is some organized conspiracy spanning since before the Federation.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” said Karim.
The captain continued, “The Federation wasn’t responsible for the Founder’s disease, it was the Tal’Shiar. I know you’ve read the classified findings too.” Her voice rose slightly, “It's difficult for me to imagine that Starfleet officers were torturing anyone. Maybe they were just restraining her.” Anger now ran through her tone, “And I refuse to believe the Federation had prior knowledge of the attack on Starfleet Academy and frankly, I’m annoyed and disappointed that you would buy into such a thing.” She pointed an accusing finger, “Have you no faith in the Federation? If not, what the hell are you doing in that uniform? What are you defending?”
Karim initially withdrew at her onslaught. A tense moment of silence followed. Not even Kimula was comfortable to interrupt it. Bin Nadal finally found Aurelia’s eyes. “There’s a difference between the ideal of the Federation and the reality of it. Which is more important to be loyal to?”
Sintina tightly shifted her jaw. She glared at Karim.
Kimula remembered her role, “Let’s just get this game started.”
The room was still for another several long seconds. Aurelia broke the deadlock, “Where’s the dice?”
END OF CHAPTER 2
Supplemental
USS Independence
Docked with Starbase 17
Exchange officer, D’nas, hung over Chief Science Officer Tang Zian at his station in the aft section of the bridge. About a month ago, Zian invited the Tamarian to join him at Betazed’s famed beaches while they were there. Tang was refreshed by the demeanor of the exchange officer. Starfleet officers, especially the lower ranks, are notorious for large egos. Not so with D’nas. He was there to enjoy himself, which didn’t involve impressing or cheat-thumping for the locals.
Since then, they’ve been spending more off-time together. More times than not, they played pool in the Game Room. The unused crew quarters on deck 4 was turned into a recreation center by some of the senior officers. Apparently a tradition started on their former ship during the war. The relatively small room slowly became more and more congested as word spread of the existence of the place. There had been talk of moving the Game Room to the main lounge, but it hadn’t happened yet.
To be honest, D’nas had become slightly annoying to Tang. The Tamarian was always nice and pleasant to be around. But he talked too much and D’nas’ ignorance in some social matters got on Zian’s nerves. Then again, Zian probably embarrassed too easily.
Now the young provisional ensign was trying to entice him into another excursion. This time on Althos IV. Zian was hesitant, Althos IV was no Betazed.
The Althos system was home to a Federation race called the Bzzit Khaht. He had only seen a handful of Bzzit Khaht. They were generally humanoid, small in stature, and larger than ‘normal’ eyes, ears, and mouth. Their eyes resembled cat’s eyes.
The planet itself was … well, Zian really didn’t know what the planet was like. But the fact he hadn’t heard anything about their planet made him suspect it wasn’t worth the trip.
The Tamarian continued to plead. It was only when D’nas said he was going regardless if he was coming or not, did Zian relent. Tang developed a sense of obligation to watch over the exchange officer. Reluctantly, the science officer agreed.
D’nas added, "I'd like Jinal to come with us this time."
Tang began to grumble, "I don't know, he seems to like his privacy."
"I work with him all the time,” said D’nas, “He'd never admit it but, he needs a respite."
"D’nas, if he didn't want to spend time on Betazed, what makes you think he'd want to spend time on Althos IV?"
The Tamarian cocked his head and smirked, "We have a saying on Tamar, 'Na'thon at his quarry without a hammer.'"
A look of confusion washed over Tang. Instead of asking the obvious question, he just shook his head and said, "Oh … well, since you put it that way."
*****
The door to the Game Room slid open with a hiss. The trio of Counselor/com officer Kimula sh'Somachanar, Tactical/Security Officer Karim Bin Nadal, and Captain Aurelia entered.
Aurelia immediately looked around. Amazingly, no one was there. “Good.”
“Good, what?” asked Kimula.
Karim interjected, “I think Sintina preferred it when this place was our little secret.”
Kimula blushed, turning her cheeks a darker shade of blue. “I only told a few people.”
The captain rolled her eyes, “Uh-uh.”
“Besides,” continued the counselor, “The Game Room on the Midas was open to everyone.”
Aurelia glared, “I know, but I’m annoyed today. I’ve been told it’s not a good thing for the crew to see their captain annoyed.”
“Oh look at me,” mocked Kimula, “I’m mad because I have to go to a briefing.”
Aurelia sat on one side of a miniature landscape. “It’s not just that, smartass.” She looked over the table, “Where is it?”
Bin Nadal sat opposite of Sintina, “You mean Windslow?”
“No, I mean my Ranger figure. I swear if one of the crew moved it on me…”
“He’s being court-martialed, you must have some sympathy for the man,” said the Andorian as she sat at the dungeon master chair.
Sintina looked under the table, “Ah, there it is.” She picked up the small statue and put it near a miniature tree. She then, directed her eyes at Kimula, “Not if he’s guilty.”
“So are you finally going to share with us, what he did?” questioned Bin Nadal.
“I suggest you go to the court-martial and find out for yourself,” offered the captain.
“Fine be that way,” said Karim, “So if it’s not Windslow that’s bothering you, what is?”
There was a dark sarcasm in Sintina’s voice, “Well let’s see, there is a full blown insurgency going on in the Crolsa system where two ships were lost last month, and the Romulan military governor on Cardassia Prime was assassinated just last week. What’s to be bothered about?”
Kimula nodded, “So that’s what this is really about.”
“Damn right.” Aurelia’s voice grew louder, “There are shortages everywhere. The Founder will be on her way to Nimbus III soon. We could be escorting her; but no, where is the fleet’s most powerful warship? … At a Starbase!”
Bin Nadal chimed in, “I still don’t understand why we took the Founder to 375 last December.”
Sintina waved it off, “Not everything needs to be on the news. See the media craze her movements are making now?”
Bin Nadal reached into a small pouch he had brought with him, revealing his own elf sorcerer figure. His organization skills earned him a scowl from Sintina.
Karim was tempted to continue the conversation about the Founder. He still hadn’t informed his captain and friend about what she told him while he guarded her during that trip. He knew Sintina well enough to know she wouldn’t believe it anyway. He took another route instead, “I heard about the Crolsa system. Did you know an old Constitution class actually won a battle with a Galor? The captain had to ram a derelict Nova class to do it, but…”
Aurelia interrupted, “Down goes another ship.”
“It worked, didn't it?” countered the Persian tactical officer.
The captain ignored him, “We should be on the front lines; it was what this ship was built for. But yet again, some almighty admiral can’t see past their own desk.”
Karim finally decided to start nudging the conversation, “Speaking of such things, whatever came of those inquiries to Starfleet about who issued the orders for us to go to that prison camp in January?”
Aurelia looked up, obviously annoyed. “I got the run around. Obviously, Ross gave them to me but I haven't been able to find out who originally issued them.”
“It must be Admiral Whatley,” ventured Bin Nadal, “You said he acted strange when you told him we found the Klingon equipment on a Starfleet ship.”
Kimula shook her head, “I still think the both of you are too inclined to believe that Garak person. I mean for all we know he could have made all that stuff up about you ticking someone off while we were at Cardassia Prime.” She got the quest book out, “Besides that, I can’t believe someone in Starfleet would send us on a rescue mission just to set you up. It seems awfully elaborate.”
Captain Aurelia cracked a small smile, “You implying I’m not worth the effort?”
“Implying? Was I not direct enough?” joked the Andorian.
Sintina shrugged after she lost her smile, “I haven't been able to prove it either way." She sighed, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve worked myself up over nothing.”
Bin Nadal wasn’t so dismissive, “I haven’t heard anything new on any investigation as to how those items ended up the Starfleet ship, have you?”
“No,” admitted Aurelia, “No, I haven’t. I was told Admiral Boral of Starfleet Security was going to handle it.”
The mention of the Andorian admiral brought back disturbing memories for Karim. It was three and a half months ago when the Midas took her last cruise to Starbase 375. It was there that Bin Nadal witnessed Boral supervising the torture of the Founder using a device that inhibited her shape shifting. Boral claimed it was only restraining her, but one only had to look at the Founder to know it was doing more than that.
Bin Nadal had to tell Sintina but he was afraid of losing credibility with her. If there was even a chance of it being true, she had to know. He worked up his courage, “Captain, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. But I didn’t want to bring it up, since I don’t have any real proof, and I didn’t want to upset you any more than you…”
She rolled her head, “Just tell me, Karim.”
The security chief had already confided in Kimula. She had been encouraging him to tell Sintina for weeks. He looked at her as if to ask approval for what he was about to say. The Andorian nodded, her antenna slightly waving.
Karim began explaining, “I’ve been corresponding with a Dr. Bashir from Deep Space Nine…”
Aurelia jumped in, “The one who cured the Founders?”
“The same.”
“I don’t know how much I’d trust him,” said Aurelia, “But go on.”
The attack right off the bat took some wind out of Karim’s sails, but he pressed on. There was no going back now, “Well, he claims there is some sort of clandestine group within the Federation and Starfleet. He calls them ‘Section 31.’”
For several minutes, Bin Nadal relayed everything he had learned in the last few months; to the Founder’s claim of the Breen fleet being detected in the Sol system, to the encounter with Admiral Boral, to the attempted genocide of the changelings, everything. She had an odd expression on her face as he explained it all, but she didn’t interrupt him. That, in itself, surprised him. Her reaction wasn’t what he hoped for, but it was what he expected.
“I can believe a group of vindictive admirals are out there,” began Aurelia, “But I refuse to believe there is some organized conspiracy spanning since before the Federation.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” said Karim.
The captain continued, “The Federation wasn’t responsible for the Founder’s disease, it was the Tal’Shiar. I know you’ve read the classified findings too.” Her voice rose slightly, “It's difficult for me to imagine that Starfleet officers were torturing anyone. Maybe they were just restraining her.” Anger now ran through her tone, “And I refuse to believe the Federation had prior knowledge of the attack on Starfleet Academy and frankly, I’m annoyed and disappointed that you would buy into such a thing.” She pointed an accusing finger, “Have you no faith in the Federation? If not, what the hell are you doing in that uniform? What are you defending?”
Karim initially withdrew at her onslaught. A tense moment of silence followed. Not even Kimula was comfortable to interrupt it. Bin Nadal finally found Aurelia’s eyes. “There’s a difference between the ideal of the Federation and the reality of it. Which is more important to be loyal to?”
Sintina tightly shifted her jaw. She glared at Karim.
Kimula remembered her role, “Let’s just get this game started.”
The room was still for another several long seconds. Aurelia broke the deadlock, “Where’s the dice?”
END OF CHAPTER 2
I very much enjoyed the senior officers conversation here. Sintina is moody and sceptical person and that makes her very human, I believe.
It does make sense that all the strange occurances over the last weeks are beginning to show a toll on this crew.
The only thing is, I can't see Starfleet officers playing a role-playing game with dice. If it was in the holo-deck it be a different matter. Maybe its because I associate these kinda games with young adolescents and not adults. But then again O'Brian liked to build models in DS9 ...
It does make sense that all the strange occurances over the last weeks are beginning to show a toll on this crew.
The only thing is, I can't see Starfleet officers playing a role-playing game with dice. If it was in the holo-deck it be a different matter. Maybe its because I associate these kinda games with young adolescents and not adults. But then again O'Brian liked to build models in DS9 ...
I liked how Aurelia reacted to Bin Nadal's story, and how Karim stood up to her assessment. You're drawing sharply defined characters here, and are confident enough in wielding them that a little intra-crew tension only serves to heighten the drama.
Oh, and thanks for the shout-out to the Gibraltar and her ordeal in the Crolsa system!
Oh, and thanks for the shout-out to the Gibraltar and her ordeal in the Crolsa system!
CHAPTER 3
Supplemental
USS Independence, Chief Medical Officer’s Quarters
Docked at Starbase 17
A bead of sweat ran down the temple of young Paul Windslow. He quickly wiped it away as his wide eyes were fixed on the looming reptilian in the room.
The humidity was thick when Susan entered. It hit her like a stepping into a spider’s web. The living area of the Arkonians was filled with very foreign looking plants from deck to the overhead. Most were a deep purple or plum in color. There were even several insects flying about.
She noticed how terrified Paul, her youngest of only 6 years old, looked. Jeff, 12, remained quiet, which had been his default setting for the last year; at least around her.
Since Susan was the ship’s teacher, all the other children had to find other things to do for the next few days. It was a last minute arrangement. She defiantly didn’t want to bring her sons with her to the court-martial. Her first, second, and third choices were all going to be too busy tweaking the ship since it was docked. Zo’Kama, on the other hand, would be ‘on-call only’ for the duration of the stay at Starbase.
“I’m sorry for imposing on you, Doctor,” began Susan.
“Nonsense,” offered Zo’Kama, “We enjoy visitors.” She noticed the perspiration on the humans. “Oh, it must be hot in here for you.” She turned to address her daughter in the next room, “Are you warmed up yet, Zo’Kala?”
A smaller version of the doctor poked her head around the corner, saw the aliens in the room, sighed, and said, “I guess.”
Zo’Kama looked up slightly, “Computer, lower temperature to 23 degrees.” The computer chirped in response. She looked again at her trio of visitors, “Sorry, we raise the temperature sometimes.”
Susan didn’t mean to blurt it out quite so bluntly, “Do you have any experience with mammalian children?”
Without missing a beat, “I have treated several of them for various medical problems,” said the doctor.
“Ah,” came from Susan as she looked down at her two sons. Both were pleading her with their eyes.
The dull-green scaled Arkonian stepped forward, “I do have one question. Have they been weaned yet?”
It was then that Susan considered her fifth option. She could only stand there, a blank expression on her face.
Then a noise started coming from Zo’Kama. It was a series of hisses. There was a smile on her face.
Susan slowly realized the hisses were laughter, or the Arkonian version of it.
“You should have seen your face!” cackled Zo’Kama.
After several seconds of exchanging glances with her children, Susan managed a forced laugh.
Paul grabbed her wrist. Apparently he thought it a good time to voice his concerns, “They scare me, mom.”
At that, the doctors’ hissing stopped. She hunched down to come eye ball to eye ball with the boy. Susan resisted the urge pull Paul back.
Zo’Kama hissed, “Don’t worry, we’ve already ate today. We shouldn’t have to eat again for several days.” She smiled wide when she was done talking, exposing her teeth. She got up quickly and laughed once again.
The boy looked up at his mother. She offered reassurance, not only to him but to herself as well, “You’ll be fine, really. She’s only joking.”
Zo’Kama called out to her daughter, who was still hiding in her room. “Remember, don’t let the human’s drink any ta’rat’ush this time.”
Susan recalled how Arkonians are not water based, but a thick brown liquid they call ta’rat’ush. Zo’Kala, the daughter, once gave it to Jeff to drink. The results were not pleasant.
The mother of the two boys repeated, “You’ll be fine …really.”
*****
Ethan Windslow was in his office on deck 2. Admiral Ross had given him a specific frequency to use when contacting him. The conversation would be their last covert communiqué.
“You said there would be no court-martial!” blasted Windslow.
“There wasn’t going to be,” began Ross, “But the situation is now out of my hands.”
The harsh tone in Ethan’s voice was now replaced by meekness, “But … you said, you needed me for some type of assignment.”
Ross wanted to end this association quickly. It had taken much of his time and spirit. He actually felt good that he wouldn’t be covering for Windslow anymore. He looked up at the scared and confused man before him, only having a distant sympathy for him. “It doesn’t matter anymore. All bets are off.”
“What does that mean?” begged the commander.
The admiral’s hand moved below the screen. “Good luck with your court martial.”
The image of Ross blinked away.
END OF CHAPTER 3
Supplemental
USS Independence, Chief Medical Officer’s Quarters
Docked at Starbase 17
A bead of sweat ran down the temple of young Paul Windslow. He quickly wiped it away as his wide eyes were fixed on the looming reptilian in the room.
The humidity was thick when Susan entered. It hit her like a stepping into a spider’s web. The living area of the Arkonians was filled with very foreign looking plants from deck to the overhead. Most were a deep purple or plum in color. There were even several insects flying about.
She noticed how terrified Paul, her youngest of only 6 years old, looked. Jeff, 12, remained quiet, which had been his default setting for the last year; at least around her.
Since Susan was the ship’s teacher, all the other children had to find other things to do for the next few days. It was a last minute arrangement. She defiantly didn’t want to bring her sons with her to the court-martial. Her first, second, and third choices were all going to be too busy tweaking the ship since it was docked. Zo’Kama, on the other hand, would be ‘on-call only’ for the duration of the stay at Starbase.
“I’m sorry for imposing on you, Doctor,” began Susan.
“Nonsense,” offered Zo’Kama, “We enjoy visitors.” She noticed the perspiration on the humans. “Oh, it must be hot in here for you.” She turned to address her daughter in the next room, “Are you warmed up yet, Zo’Kala?”
A smaller version of the doctor poked her head around the corner, saw the aliens in the room, sighed, and said, “I guess.”
Zo’Kama looked up slightly, “Computer, lower temperature to 23 degrees.” The computer chirped in response. She looked again at her trio of visitors, “Sorry, we raise the temperature sometimes.”
Susan didn’t mean to blurt it out quite so bluntly, “Do you have any experience with mammalian children?”
Without missing a beat, “I have treated several of them for various medical problems,” said the doctor.
“Ah,” came from Susan as she looked down at her two sons. Both were pleading her with their eyes.
The dull-green scaled Arkonian stepped forward, “I do have one question. Have they been weaned yet?”
It was then that Susan considered her fifth option. She could only stand there, a blank expression on her face.
Then a noise started coming from Zo’Kama. It was a series of hisses. There was a smile on her face.
Susan slowly realized the hisses were laughter, or the Arkonian version of it.
“You should have seen your face!” cackled Zo’Kama.
After several seconds of exchanging glances with her children, Susan managed a forced laugh.
Paul grabbed her wrist. Apparently he thought it a good time to voice his concerns, “They scare me, mom.”
At that, the doctors’ hissing stopped. She hunched down to come eye ball to eye ball with the boy. Susan resisted the urge pull Paul back.
Zo’Kama hissed, “Don’t worry, we’ve already ate today. We shouldn’t have to eat again for several days.” She smiled wide when she was done talking, exposing her teeth. She got up quickly and laughed once again.
The boy looked up at his mother. She offered reassurance, not only to him but to herself as well, “You’ll be fine, really. She’s only joking.”
Zo’Kama called out to her daughter, who was still hiding in her room. “Remember, don’t let the human’s drink any ta’rat’ush this time.”
Susan recalled how Arkonians are not water based, but a thick brown liquid they call ta’rat’ush. Zo’Kala, the daughter, once gave it to Jeff to drink. The results were not pleasant.
The mother of the two boys repeated, “You’ll be fine …really.”
*****
Ethan Windslow was in his office on deck 2. Admiral Ross had given him a specific frequency to use when contacting him. The conversation would be their last covert communiqué.
“You said there would be no court-martial!” blasted Windslow.
“There wasn’t going to be,” began Ross, “But the situation is now out of my hands.”
The harsh tone in Ethan’s voice was now replaced by meekness, “But … you said, you needed me for some type of assignment.”
Ross wanted to end this association quickly. It had taken much of his time and spirit. He actually felt good that he wouldn’t be covering for Windslow anymore. He looked up at the scared and confused man before him, only having a distant sympathy for him. “It doesn’t matter anymore. All bets are off.”
“What does that mean?” begged the commander.
The admiral’s hand moved below the screen. “Good luck with your court martial.”
The image of Ross blinked away.
END OF CHAPTER 3
Well, it looks like Windslow's being hung out to dry. And so it goes...
I must say your reptilian race is one of the coolest Federation races I've come across. Are they your creation?
You handle that scene with an impeccable sense of humor.
I'm looking forward to discover what Winslow's fate will be. And for that matter what he did in the first place to get him there.
You handle that scene with an impeccable sense of humor.
I'm looking forward to discover what Winslow's fate will be. And for that matter what he did in the first place to get him there.
The bit with Zo’Kama’s family and the Windslow boys was a hoot!
And now, just when he thought his fat was out of the fire, Windslow’s squarely in the crosshairs again. Whatever changed in the equation, its source is obviously one helluva lot higher up the food chain than Bill Ross.
I guess we’ll finally find out exactly what happened on that ill-fated away mission during the course of this court-martial.
And now, just when he thought his fat was out of the fire, Windslow’s squarely in the crosshairs again. Whatever changed in the equation, its source is obviously one helluva lot higher up the food chain than Bill Ross.
I guess we’ll finally find out exactly what happened on that ill-fated away mission during the course of this court-martial.
Thank you guys for the comments! I wasn't sure if the scene in Zo'Kama's quarters would bomb or not. 
The Arkonians are a canon species. They were in one Enterprise episode; "Dawn." That episode, however, was an obvious nod to the film Enemy Mine. So I've taken a lot of inspiration from the Drac species in that movie.
The Arkonians are a canon species. They were in one Enterprise episode; "Dawn." That episode, however, was an obvious nod to the film Enemy Mine. So I've taken a lot of inspiration from the Drac species in that movie.
CHAPTER 4
Supplemental
Althos IV
Homeworld of the Federation race Bzzit Khaht
It seemed to be dusk. The stone streets were poorly maintained. The structures nearby didn’t appear to be in any better shape. Most of the buildings were cylindrical in shape with domed roofs. Most had a thick layer of rust along the joints. A smattering of people trudged along to wherever they thought they needed to go.
Surprisingly, very few had the unmistakable characteristics of the Bzzit Khaht. The natives of this planet were, on average, little more than a meter in height. They were generally humanoid but with oversized eyes, ears, and lips. Their eyes had vertical pupils. Most of the residences here, however, were foreign aliens.
Three formations of light began to materialize in the street. Moments later, the luminous effect faded to reveal the Indy’s chief engineer, Lieutenant Jinal; science officer, Tang; and helm officer, D’nas. D’nas wore his earth-toned, Tamarian military uniform, as he usually did. Jinal had refused to change his attire from his duty uniform. Only the junior lieutenant had civilian clothing on.
Tang Zian was the first to voice the group’s concerns. “Are you sure we were transported to the right spot?”
Jinal, the Vulcan pretender, conjectured, “Perhaps the transporter operator on the Starbase misunderstood us.”
“Stupid protocols,” said Tang, referring to a policy that Starbase 17 sent to the Independence requiring the Starbase to handle all transports to the surface. “We should’ve just transported straight from the Indy.
Jinal offered, almost nervously, “Maybe we should contact the Starbase and beam back.”
D’nas opened his arms as he pleaded, “We should at least look around since we’re here.”
“I’m beginning to regret agreeing to this venture,” said the engineer.
Zian nodded, “I with you Jinal.” He turned to D’nas, “This place doesn’t hold a candle to Betazed.”
The Tamarian placed his hands on his hips. “I’m surprised. The Federation is known for its spirit of exploration and you two don’t even explore your own worlds.”
“I can barely see to explore,” countered Tang.
“The Althos asteroid belt is so dense,” explained Jinal, “that little of the star’s light reaches the planet.”
D’nas attempted to perk the group up, “Which explains why the Bzzit Khaht have unusually large eyes. See we have already discovered something!”
The science officer was not amused, “Great. I’d still rather be lying on the beach of the Opal Sea.”
The exchange officer desperately searched the area for something to keep his shipmates’ interest. He found it down the block. "That looks like an interesting place," D’nas offered as he pointed out a place of business. Odd music could be heard from the establishment.
"It appears to a lounge area," observed the Romulan, using his near constant Vulcan impersonation.
Zian looked. He rolled his head in submission and shrugged his shoulders.
The Tamarian began walking enthusiastically as he spoke, "Come on, a drink would be refreshing."
The remaining two looked at each other and fell into step with D’nas.
*****
The place resembled something out of Earth’s 18th or 19th centuries; wood floors and walls. It was an interesting contrast to the metal façade. Though, the interior looked as run down as the exterior.
The major distinction between this place and an old Irish tavern was the crowd: several Xyrillians, Trill, a couple of Chalnoth, even two Tzenketh.
Tang could hardly hear over the loud music and talking. He was relieved, however, as he looked over the people. There were about a dozen Starfleet officers in uniform scattered about; the vast majority of patrons, however, where obviously not Starfleet. Most were seated at several wooden tables. There was a dom-jot table … one dom-jot table.
Despite a few comrades in the room, Tang was still hesitant. "I think we beamed into the slum part of the planet."
"I concur," simply stated, Jinal.
D’nas wasted no time ordering a Makara fizz. The bartender had just handed the clear, bubbling beverage to him. He observed his two crewmates. Neither one appeared to be enjoying themselves. The Tamarian reluctantly bobbed his head, “Fine, we can leave, but at least allow me to finish my drink."
There didn’t appear to be a table with three empty chairs, so the trio loitered at the bar. D’nas drank on a stool. Zian began to tap his foot to the music as he leaned his elbows on the partition. Jinal, on the other hand, stood ridged; doing a fair impression of an uncomfortable Vulcan.
The peculiar looking group was silent for several seconds.
Two Chalnoth sat a few meters away. The Indy crewmembers didn’t notice one of them pointing in their direction. The two hairy, leather-clad aliens talked amongst themselves for a moment. One spoke up, addressing D’nas, “Warrior.”
The exchange officer and the Starfleet were oblivious to the call.
Louder, the Chalnoth yelled, “Warrior!”
Again the large alien received no satisfaction. He stood and bellowed, “Hey, you!”
This time, not only did he get D’nas’ attention, but half the tavern’s patrons.
The Tamarian made eye contact as the rest of the room returned to their own diversions. D’nas looked around, and then returned to the Chalnoth. "Are you requesting me?"
A healthy belly laugh came from both the aliens. One of them responded, “Yes, I wish to exchange tales with a fellow dagger wielder."
D’nas looked down to his uniform and touched his sheathed blade. All Tamarian military bore a blade on their torso, attached by two leather strips going from the belt over the left shoulder. He responded cordially, “Ah, very well.” D’nas began to move to the Chalnoth’s table.
Before the exchange officer could take two steps, Tang grabbed his upper arm. D’nas turned; a bewildered look on his face.
The science officer said, “I'll excuse your ignorance, but those are Chalnoth."
"And?" questioned the young ensign.
Zian rotated his head in a mix of astonishment and annoyance, “And they’re the thugs of the galaxy."
Jinal chimed in, “Not to mention, they appear to be intoxicated."
“I am truly disappointed,” began D’nas. He shook his head, “I see I have given you too much credit. Stereotypes are still quite common in the Federation.” He removed Zian’s hand, “I will socialize with whomever I choose."
The Tamarian defiantly walked up to the Chalnoth and sat in one of the open seats.
Tang slapped Jinal lightly in the back. "Why did you let him go like that?"
“I didn’t,” said Jinal. "I agreed with you."
"Yeah, but couldn't you have given him a Vulcan neck pinch or something?"
"Vulcan nerve pinch,” corrected Jinal. He sighed, “And D'nas is right. Stereotypes are common. Not all Vulcans know the technique."
The Asian returned to his position of leaning on the bar, "Oh.” He looked over at D’nas. “Well, should we join them?"
The engineer’s fear got the better of him, "Perhaps merely observing would be sufficient."
Zian’s courage apparently faltered as well, "Good idea, we can always jump in if we need to. Once a Starfleet officer gets involved all these other officers will help too."
END OF CHAPTER 4
Supplemental
Althos IV
Homeworld of the Federation race Bzzit Khaht
It seemed to be dusk. The stone streets were poorly maintained. The structures nearby didn’t appear to be in any better shape. Most of the buildings were cylindrical in shape with domed roofs. Most had a thick layer of rust along the joints. A smattering of people trudged along to wherever they thought they needed to go.
Surprisingly, very few had the unmistakable characteristics of the Bzzit Khaht. The natives of this planet were, on average, little more than a meter in height. They were generally humanoid but with oversized eyes, ears, and lips. Their eyes had vertical pupils. Most of the residences here, however, were foreign aliens.
Three formations of light began to materialize in the street. Moments later, the luminous effect faded to reveal the Indy’s chief engineer, Lieutenant Jinal; science officer, Tang; and helm officer, D’nas. D’nas wore his earth-toned, Tamarian military uniform, as he usually did. Jinal had refused to change his attire from his duty uniform. Only the junior lieutenant had civilian clothing on.
Tang Zian was the first to voice the group’s concerns. “Are you sure we were transported to the right spot?”
Jinal, the Vulcan pretender, conjectured, “Perhaps the transporter operator on the Starbase misunderstood us.”
“Stupid protocols,” said Tang, referring to a policy that Starbase 17 sent to the Independence requiring the Starbase to handle all transports to the surface. “We should’ve just transported straight from the Indy.
Jinal offered, almost nervously, “Maybe we should contact the Starbase and beam back.”
D’nas opened his arms as he pleaded, “We should at least look around since we’re here.”
“I’m beginning to regret agreeing to this venture,” said the engineer.
Zian nodded, “I with you Jinal.” He turned to D’nas, “This place doesn’t hold a candle to Betazed.”
The Tamarian placed his hands on his hips. “I’m surprised. The Federation is known for its spirit of exploration and you two don’t even explore your own worlds.”
“I can barely see to explore,” countered Tang.
“The Althos asteroid belt is so dense,” explained Jinal, “that little of the star’s light reaches the planet.”
D’nas attempted to perk the group up, “Which explains why the Bzzit Khaht have unusually large eyes. See we have already discovered something!”
The science officer was not amused, “Great. I’d still rather be lying on the beach of the Opal Sea.”
The exchange officer desperately searched the area for something to keep his shipmates’ interest. He found it down the block. "That looks like an interesting place," D’nas offered as he pointed out a place of business. Odd music could be heard from the establishment.
"It appears to a lounge area," observed the Romulan, using his near constant Vulcan impersonation.
Zian looked. He rolled his head in submission and shrugged his shoulders.
The Tamarian began walking enthusiastically as he spoke, "Come on, a drink would be refreshing."
The remaining two looked at each other and fell into step with D’nas.
*****
The place resembled something out of Earth’s 18th or 19th centuries; wood floors and walls. It was an interesting contrast to the metal façade. Though, the interior looked as run down as the exterior.
The major distinction between this place and an old Irish tavern was the crowd: several Xyrillians, Trill, a couple of Chalnoth, even two Tzenketh.
Tang could hardly hear over the loud music and talking. He was relieved, however, as he looked over the people. There were about a dozen Starfleet officers in uniform scattered about; the vast majority of patrons, however, where obviously not Starfleet. Most were seated at several wooden tables. There was a dom-jot table … one dom-jot table.
Despite a few comrades in the room, Tang was still hesitant. "I think we beamed into the slum part of the planet."
"I concur," simply stated, Jinal.
D’nas wasted no time ordering a Makara fizz. The bartender had just handed the clear, bubbling beverage to him. He observed his two crewmates. Neither one appeared to be enjoying themselves. The Tamarian reluctantly bobbed his head, “Fine, we can leave, but at least allow me to finish my drink."
There didn’t appear to be a table with three empty chairs, so the trio loitered at the bar. D’nas drank on a stool. Zian began to tap his foot to the music as he leaned his elbows on the partition. Jinal, on the other hand, stood ridged; doing a fair impression of an uncomfortable Vulcan.
The peculiar looking group was silent for several seconds.
Two Chalnoth sat a few meters away. The Indy crewmembers didn’t notice one of them pointing in their direction. The two hairy, leather-clad aliens talked amongst themselves for a moment. One spoke up, addressing D’nas, “Warrior.”
The exchange officer and the Starfleet were oblivious to the call.
Louder, the Chalnoth yelled, “Warrior!”
Again the large alien received no satisfaction. He stood and bellowed, “Hey, you!”
This time, not only did he get D’nas’ attention, but half the tavern’s patrons.
The Tamarian made eye contact as the rest of the room returned to their own diversions. D’nas looked around, and then returned to the Chalnoth. "Are you requesting me?"
A healthy belly laugh came from both the aliens. One of them responded, “Yes, I wish to exchange tales with a fellow dagger wielder."
D’nas looked down to his uniform and touched his sheathed blade. All Tamarian military bore a blade on their torso, attached by two leather strips going from the belt over the left shoulder. He responded cordially, “Ah, very well.” D’nas began to move to the Chalnoth’s table.
Before the exchange officer could take two steps, Tang grabbed his upper arm. D’nas turned; a bewildered look on his face.
The science officer said, “I'll excuse your ignorance, but those are Chalnoth."
"And?" questioned the young ensign.
Zian rotated his head in a mix of astonishment and annoyance, “And they’re the thugs of the galaxy."
Jinal chimed in, “Not to mention, they appear to be intoxicated."
“I am truly disappointed,” began D’nas. He shook his head, “I see I have given you too much credit. Stereotypes are still quite common in the Federation.” He removed Zian’s hand, “I will socialize with whomever I choose."
The Tamarian defiantly walked up to the Chalnoth and sat in one of the open seats.
Tang slapped Jinal lightly in the back. "Why did you let him go like that?"
“I didn’t,” said Jinal. "I agreed with you."
"Yeah, but couldn't you have given him a Vulcan neck pinch or something?"
"Vulcan nerve pinch,” corrected Jinal. He sighed, “And D'nas is right. Stereotypes are common. Not all Vulcans know the technique."
The Asian returned to his position of leaning on the bar, "Oh.” He looked over at D’nas. “Well, should we join them?"
The engineer’s fear got the better of him, "Perhaps merely observing would be sufficient."
Zian’s courage apparently faltered as well, "Good idea, we can always jump in if we need to. Once a Starfleet officer gets involved all these other officers will help too."
END OF CHAPTER 4
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