Chapter 5
Starbase 323
Tactical Command Section—Lounge A-15
It was hardly a state secret that Vice Admiral Edward Jellico had always hated the tedium of meetings. Official gatherings were even less fun when they were a series of debriefings by a special review board, which had included the new Commander of Starfleet. So…he had the joy of defending his command decisions in the field, coupled with the drudgery of an After Action Report.
He regarded it as penance. Part of him actually needed the punishment. While he had no regrets concerning the course of action he had taken, the review process provided a sort of closure…loss, death, anguish, it could all be summarized neatly into columns of numbers which in turn were attached to cause and effect trees. “A” had led to “B” and eventually we ended up here at “G”. Any more questions?
Jellico’s Tango Fleet had stumbled across the impending attack on Betazed. Given Betazed’s strategic importance, he had decided to engage the Dominion. But the operation was hampered by three perilous obstacles: the Dominion had seized control of the communication array in the sector and was jamming all COMM traffic. Then there was the inexplicable absence of the Tenth Fleet, charged with guarding Betazed. Perhaps most significant of all was that Jellico had been outnumbered three to one. Without the Tenth to balance their numbers, his fleet had been decimated, losing a full two-thirds of his forces. Was it a noble sacrifice? Or poor decision making, born of desperation? The matter was still under review.
Incredibly, the fall of Betazed was currently being eclipsed by a new crisis, one that had appeared during Tango Fleet’s ill-fated campaign. So here he sat at yet another meeting, sleep deprived, anxious and staring wistfully at his glass of ice tea, thinking that he’d give his left arm to exchange the contents for Kentucky Whiskey.
He was joined at the large conference table by admirals William J. Ross, Owen Paris, Alyanna Nechayev, Margaret Blackwell and Jon Owens. It was a power squad to be sure. This group was one of those inner circles among the top brass whose influence went beyond their individual jurisdictions and areas of expertise. (Although Owens seemed to be a last minute attendee. Jellico wasn’t certain what area of Fleet Command he was assigned to.)
Like Jellico, they all looked like hell. Ross was unshaven, Blackwell had bags under her eyes and the elderly Paris could have passed for a man ten years his senior. Even the normally unflappable Admiral Nechayev seemed oddly restless, as though already waiting for the briefing to end so she could get on with more important matters. The only member who appeared alert and rested was Owens.
They climbed wearily to their feet as Gabriel Quetzalxochitl entered the room. The newly appointed Commander of Starfleet was a stately woman in her early eighties whose lineage could be traced back to the Aztecs of South America. Although small in stature, her body moved with smart, clockwork precision. It was clear that she was fueled by a self confidence that was authentic rather than rehearsed. Her pronounced features and braided gray hair completed a courtly package. All together, she had the bearing of a classical oil painting.
"Please be seated." She ordered, while drawing up behind a podium at the other end of the conference room. “Most of you know one another or know of one another, so we’ll skip the introductions. As you can see, your order jackets indicate a suspension of your current assignments. That’s because you’ve been selected as our crisis management team. This base will serve as our strategic command center. All Starfleet efforts will be coordinated through us. I will remain on site and report directly to the President. The Federation Council has convened an emergency session and will be updated as the situation unfolds.”
Blackwell and Paris connected through a mutual look of concern.
“Before we begin, I have a communications directive for all of you…and it is absolutely critical that you adhere it.” She leaned intently over the podium. “Once we leave this room, you are not to use the word ‘Inth’. It is not to be written in any communications, spoken out loud amongst yourselves, your subordinates or even family members. Violation of this order will result in the most severe of consequences. Make sure you enforce this rule to all below you, as well. Officially, we’d like to avoid confirming the presence of new alien invaders. But if pressed, you’ll refer to them only as the ‘Yolak’.”
“Who are the ‘Yolak’?” Blackwell asked.
“The term was fabricated. It’s better that we name these creatures, rather than letting the public label them as ‘Inth’.” Nechayev supplied. Jellico noted that she seemed to have an inside track. It was likely, he decided. Her connections within Starfleet stretched wide and ran deep.
“I don’t recall that we’ve ever gone to these lengths just to hide the identity of an alien species.” Owens commented.
“Correct. We have not. But this threat is unprecedented.” Quetzalxochitl’s hard gaze drifted over the group. “Remember, to us the Inth are merely a campfire story. But to many Federation worlds, they’re a dark belief system that’s woven into their cultures—their existence has always been accepted as a fact that millions still live in fear of. They are considered to be the very definition of ‘monster’, the ultimate ‘boogymen’. When you consider that our citizens are already on edge because of the war, publicly acknowledging that the Inth are real and have returned, would set off a mass panic. Projections indicate that some of our members would even secede from the Federation and flee the Alpha Quadrant in terror. I’m sure I don’t have to explain what a refugee crisis of that magnitude would do to the war effort.”
“End it.” Ross said flatly.
“But I’m sure word has already leaked out…” Blackwell objected.
“We’ve launched a disinformation campaign to discredit the idea.” Nechayev interjected cooly.
Dubious frowns traveled around the table.
Quetzalxochitl continued. “You all know Vice Admiral Edward Jellico as the Composite Warfare Commander for Taskforce Tango during the Battle of Betazed. He was, of course, directly involved in events leading up to the current crisis. I’ve asked him to brief you all on some related developments. Admiral?”
“Thank you.” Jellico’s voice crackled authoritatively through the air as though he were lecturing a class of first-year cadets. “After the incident in Gorn space, their new Imperator seems eager to make a name for himself. He’s already lodged a formal complaint with the Council, accusing us of violating the Cestus Accords. He just followed that up by ordering all Federation citizens from their territories and recalling their diplomates—and they’re demanding Aubrey’s extradition as a proviso for any potential talks.”
“Months of diplomacy aimed at bringing the Gorn into the war…all lost.” Ross grumbled caustically.
Jellico endorsed the sentiment with a small nod. “With that in mind, we’ve decided to classify the Intrepid as a rogue vessel. Starfleet is officially disavowing any and all actions by the Intrepid while under Aubrey’s control—in case there are further transgressions against our allies. Also, in consideration of our own forces, a Priority One directive has been issued to all Starfleet assets within Intrepid’s immediate travel sphere that they avoid contact.”
He cleared his throat. “Initially, I ordered Captain Caroline Hiroko of the Sentry to shadow Intrepid, report INTEL but to avoid contact. However, she broke radio silence in an attempt to mitigate the Gorn incursion. I’ve gone on record as supporting that decision. I trust her judgement.”
You also trusted Aubrey’s judgement. No one actually said that, but it was all over their faces.
Ignoring the mute disapproval, he marched on; “She was under orders to come about before Aubrey entered Dominion space, but that’s no longer an option. The battlefront has recently shifted behind her. Hiroko and her crew are now trapped behind enemy lines.”
Ross scratched his stubbled chin. “It was because I had the Third Fleet fall back to Salvete Domum…”
“In light of this, I ordered her to stay with Intrepid. Ironically, it represents the most secure tactical position at the moment.”
“What’s their current location?” Paris asked.
“My last update from Hiroko puts Intrepid and Sentry less than three hours from the Archer system’s outer boundary. But due to enemy fleet movements in the sector, we’re pretty sure they’re already in the line of fire.”
“Strange. You relieved Aubrey of command. Even though he refused the order, I’m surprised his crew didn’t act on it…” Blackwell mused.
Jellico responded with a lengthy, if not incredulous look before sharing that same expression with the other admirals. “Respectfully, I think you’ve all been out of the center seat too long. You may have forgotten how fiercely loyal a crew can be to their CO.”
“That’s one theory,” Nechayev said icily. “A more likely one is that his crew has been compromised.”
“Thank you, Admiral Jellico.” Quetzalxochitl interrupted. “Before getting under way, Sentry launched two Class-Three probes outside the Betazed system; Whisper One, which is stationary, and Whisper Two which is doing a superlight RECON within the system. The telemetry we received is the main subject of this briefing.”
Quetzalxochitl tapped the PADD in her hand. A holographic image spread through the air and hung over the conference table like a cloud of luminescent smoke. “This was the Kokala Nebula as it appeared ten hours ago. Computer, show Kokala Nebula time index 1421.02.”
The nebula dissolved into a spiky blur that was half its former size.
"Computer, show Kokala Nebula time index 1605.08.” She instructed.
Now it was a iridescent clump. A spiral pattern was visible in the gas, as though it were watercolors that a child had drawn circles over with his finger.
"What's happening to it?" Ross asked.
“The nebula is imploding, apparently because of a singularity located at its center. More critically, this singularity is emitting gravimetric waves that are somehow propagating through subspace." The image drew back to a greater distance. Beyond Kokala lay a ring of cookie crumbs. "The initial event was a shockwave powerful enough that it shattered all planetary bodies in the Kalandra System. Gravimetric shearing forces were so extreme at the height of the event, that they exceeded our probe’s ability to measure them.”
The reactions around the room were a blend of shock and concern.
“My God. Betazed…” Ross exclaimed tightly.
“Fortunately, the gravimetric burst phased out of our universe immediately afterward. However, Whisper Two picked up indications that three planetary bodies in the Betazed system have shifted their orbits by two degrees—likely because of the disaster.”
Kokala drew close again, fully rendered as a computer graphic. From its center, overlapping rings were expanding, blinking in and out as they traveled.
“It’s spreading beyond Kokala.” Blackwell noted bleakly.
Owens was studying the hologram intently. “It’s sending out displacement waves at irregular intervals.” He pointed up at the outermost rings as they raced over his head. “But according to this, they’re encompassing the entire Federation.” He looked at his colleagues in confusion. “But there’s been no reports of mass destruction…”
“That’s because most of what you’re seeing is hypothetical, based on projections by the Daystrom Institute. Keep in mind that these distortion waves do exist, but luckily for us, they’re out of phase with normal space-time. However, that’s now beginning to change. The waves are starting to shift into our universe more and more frequently. And as you can imagine, even a few seconds is all it takes for devastation to occur.”
“What’s causing this thing? What is it exactly?” Paris demanded.
“We don’t know. This monster doesn’t fit any established behavioral models. Oh, our people have all kinds of theories. If we had a few hours I could run through them all. Some say it’s an ‘inverted trans-spatial rift’, while others thinks it’s ‘energetic space fold’, joining higher dimensional planes. Then we have speculation that the distortion waves are being fed by ‘harmonic amplification effects while interacting with dark matter’…” She dropped her PADD on the podium and shook her head. “There’s so much jargon here I can barely make sense of it all. But despite the dueling theories, there’s one fact everyone agrees upon…”
The weary group straightened in their chairs, almost wincing in anticipation, like people bracing themselves for a slap across the face.
“The anomaly’s energy is growing exponentially. As that happens, frequency and duration continue to increase. In other words, the gravimetric waves are coming more often and staying longer in our universe. If current projections hold, the Federation will be in ruins within eight days.”
The group of flag officers could only gape at her, their voices strangled by the weight of her statement.
“And I’m afraid there’s been another development. Evidently, the distortion waves aren’t the only visitors to our universe.” The hologram winked off as she picked up her PADD and began referencing data. “Nine hours ago, a Klingon task force under Captain Laska was traveling through the Velda Corridor when they encountered the trailing edge of a distortion wave that appeared without warning. Half of her ships were disabled, so she was forced to abort the mission. Soon after that, we received a message saying that her ships were under attack by unidentified aliens—someone or something other than the Dominion. They haven’t been heard from since…and her task force failed to return to base.”
The room remained deathly quiet.
Sighing heavily, she thumbed her PADD again before continuing. “Four hours ago, a transmission came in from the orbital refinery at Delta Vega. They also reported a sudden distortion wave. Their last message was a distress call, indicating contact with ‘life forms of an undetermined nature’. Since then, we’ve lost all contact with the colony.”
“Those locations are at opposite ends of the Federation.” Paris observed. “These waves apparently don’t weaken with distance…”
“It’s an invasion. It’s already started!” Ross erupted. His nerves frayed, he turned accusingly to Jellico. “I thought these so-called ‘Inth’ were all divided among the Intrepid and Archer IV. Why the hell are they manifesting in other places?”
Jellico’s gumption ramped up a level. He sneered at Ross. “Let’s all remember that that information came from a rogue captain who had suffered aggressive mental contact with this species.”
Ross turned beseechingly to Quetzalxochitl. “How do we stop this?”
“We can’t.” She replied simply. “We couldn’t even under the best of circumstances—which a war definitely isn’t.”
Paris shook his head, as if hoping he could jolt himself out of what had to be a macabre day dream. “I don’t…” He stammered. Then: “Maybe we should start thinking about evacuations…”
Jellico nearly choked on the tea he had just sipped. “‘Evacuations’?” He sputtered. “Weren’t you listening? We’d lose everything!”
Paris held up his palms in appeasement as he addressed the stunned faces around him. “I’m only suggesting contingency plans. Look, we have to consider the possibility that Federation territory may soon become uninhabitable…”
“Billions of people!” Blackwell objected. “And where would they go?”
“Owen, they’d be easy targets in open space!” Incredibly, Nechayev’s voice wavered unsteadily. “Starfleet doesn’t have nearly the resources—“
“I’m just saying all possibilities have to be—“
“We can’t even think about giving up!” Ross barked.
“You want us to just roll over and show our bellies?” Jellico growled. “Don’t let this thing turn you into a coward!”
Paris bristled. “That kind of thinking didn’t help you at Betazed, did it?”
“What the hell does that mean?” Jellico snapped.
“I’ll spell it out.” Paris snapped back. “It means you threw away valuable resources and hundreds of lives on a hopeless campaign because you don’t know when to cut your losses! Sometimes I wonder whose side you’re on!”
Jellico bolted out of his chair and hurled his glass of ice tea against the wall, where it exploded with a tinkling crash. “Don’t you EVER question my loyalty, you son of a bitch!”
Nechayev came to her feet. “Shut up Edward!” She snarled in a sudden gush of fury. “In fact, why don’t you ALL SHUT UP!” Her lower lip was trembling.
Blackwell rose from her chair. “Why don’t you shut up, Nechayev?”
“Go to hell, Margaret!”
“After you, Alyanna!”
Everyone flinched as a PADD clattered across the middle of the conference table.
Quetzalxochitl smiled into the electrified silence that followed. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But if enough slapping and hair-pulling has ensued, I’d like to get back to business…if that’s all right with everyone.”
Blackwell and Nechayev suddenly appeared mortified and could no longer meet each other’s eyes. The assembly sank back into their chairs again. Paris and Ross stared vacantly at the tabletop while Jellico had come down on the edge of his seat, nostrils flaring like a boxer waiting for the next round.
For his part, Vice Admiral Jon Owens was nothing short of thunderstruck. He held many of these officers in near reverence. It was a disconcerting reminder that they were all mortal…just like himself.
It took a while, but eventually their eyes drifted back to Quetzalxochitl.
“This is the part where I’m supposed to scold you all for conduct unbecoming.” She exhaled a broken gust of air. “Truth be told, I’m just too exhausted to give a damn. Oh, and if you want a rousing speech you won’t get one of those, either.” Her tone took a softer edge. “Unlike the war, we can’t control this situation. Maybe the Inth will leave our universe and take their chaos with them. Or maybe they won’t, in which case the Federation will soon go the way of the Iconians.” She spread her arms over the group. “I have no words of comfort for you. No hope to offer. We may not be able to cure this disease. If not, let’s do our best to manage the symptoms.” She allowed a few extra moments for the group to gather whatever composer they could find. “Now, if someone would kindly retrieve my PADD, we’ll review your assignments…”
____
An hour later, the group shuffled out, stoically keeping each other at arm’s length—more out of lingering embarrassment than animosity.
“Admiral Jellico. A moment, please.”
Jellico had been seconds from escape. He turned away from the closing doors as Quetzalxochitl left her podium. Slowly, she made her way to him, padding by the long conference table. In contrast to her dynamic entrance, her steps now were slow and deliberate. He had time to consider how heavily current events were weighing on her shoulders.
She looked up him, her brow heavy with castigation.
He waited, fully resigned to what might come next. His future was already in doubt because of his performance at Betazed. Now he’d blown up in front of Quetzalxochitl—an unwise performance that if nothing else, might only secure his reputation as a reckless hothead.
Be that is may, Jellico decided long ago that self-reproach was a luxury he couldn’t afford. If Quetzalxochitl were about to rip the braids from his tunic, so be it.
After a moment, her steely attention moved from him to the broken glass and puddled remains of his ice tea. “So…you going to clean that up?”
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