Chapter 9 (cont)
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.
Chapter 9 (cont)
GOVERNMENT COMPLEX
NEW TEHERAN
IRAN
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 1639 IRST (1309 UTC)
Shaheen had returned with Major General Reza Habibi to the badly damaged government building in New Teheran. While the front of the building had received damage from both the missile launch and the Israeli bombing, the annexes to the rear had emerged relatively unscathed.
It was here that the governmental communications and studio facilities had been located and where Habibi was about to take a step into a dangerous unknown. His script had been carefully autocued by Shaheen of course, but the delivery would be the important part.
“Five minutes to broadcast!” The call had come from the floor manager who was even now ushering cameras and floor crew into place. This may well be one of the most important broadcasts ever made from the studio with the very future of Iran hanging on its outcome. He didn’t intend for it to become his last job.
Shaheen studied Habibi closely. “Are you prepared?”
Whether it was the steadying influence of the mind control, the events of the past few days or the broadcast he was about to make to the world, Shaheen didn’t know but a satisfying change had settled over the Commander of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps transforming him from the preening and unctuous figure head he had previously been into a man who seemed born to take the role of leadership.
“If I am not prepared now Shaheen, then I never will be.”
Shaheen allowed Habibi to enter the small studio while he quickly made his way to the gallery to oversee the broadcast. Though he shouldn’t need to make changes to the autocue, it was available nonetheless and Habibi was prepared to change tack at Shaheen’s direction.
“All parties are standing by for transmission. United States, ECoN, Europe, African Confederation, Islamic Bloc, seven minors. One minute to air.”
As the gallery and studio descended into silence, Shaheen watched Habibi settle into the seat backed by the Iranian flag. He straightened his tie and shooed away the makeup girl then faced the camera with a grim expression.
“In three, two…” The floor manager dropped his hand and as the Iranian national anthem, Sorood-e Melli-ye Jomhoori-ye Eslami-ye Iran, began to play Habibi’s eyes took on a sad look. With the dying chords, he looked directly into the camera.
“World leaders, for those who do not know me, I am Major General Reza Habibi, Commander of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and I address you today in shame. Our country has long been punished for the actions of its leaders yet at heart, its people are no different to your own. They looked to their leaders for wisdom and protection in an ever changing world, and seldom received that which they deserved.”
The camera began a slow zoom in.
“Now, the people of Iran have suffered the ultimate betrayal in the actions of a man corrupted by power. Ayatollah Hoseyn Ali Jannati, a man entrusted with the welfare of Iran and its people, acted unilaterally with a secretly inducted corps of military specialists to launch this unprovoked attack upon Israel.”
He gazed at his hands for a moment then held them up to the camera.
“Though I knew nothing of his plans, my hands are still stained by the blood of innocents because I did not in my capacity prevent this atrocity. And so I say again, I address you today in shame. While nothing I can say will remove that shame, I believe that the actions we take from today forward can at least absolve the people of Iran from the catastrophic actions of its leaders.”
The scene cut to images of the destroyed government bunker and the ruined face of the new government building as Habibi continued.
“Today, I step into the vacuum left following the deaths of the majority of Iran’s government. I do this merely on a pro tem basis to allow some form of continuity and wish the world to be aware that my continued service is dependent on the people of Iran, because the time has come for change.”
Shaheen knew that that simple statement would have eyebrows rising across the world.
“For too long the iron fist that has controlled this country has made the lives of its citizens intolerable. It is time for democracy because only democracy can prevent this kind of horror from happening again.”
Once again, the camera cut back to Habibi’s earnest face.
“I am only too well aware that many of you will hear the words I speak and find it difficult to believe them, and I understand this. In the weeks to come, as I oversee the rebuilding of this country, I will speak to each one of you personally. But I say to you all, here and now, that Iran today has no intention to commit further attacks on the world. The process of bringing democracy to my country will not be an easy one. It will have its opponents, but it must succeed. Therefore my first request is for the United Nations Security Council to reconsider the sanctions currently levied against Iran and allow us to prove that this nation is ready to take its place in the free world.”
Habibi sat up straight in the chair looking every inch a man in control.
“Thank you for your patience and restraint under what must have been unbearable pressure to act. Now I must request that patience to extend a little longer while I try and piece together my country. Thank you.”
The image of Habibi faded on the screen to be replaced by an image of a tattered Iranian flag still flying proudly atop the new government building.
“Transmission is terminated.”
The studio erupted in a spontaneous chorus of cheers and applause and Shaheen smiled. He knew though, that the hardliners remaining in Iran would not be so jubilant and Iran would now face its severest test from within.
USS ANGEL
EN-ROUTE TO ARGOLIS SECTOR
UFP SPACE
September 17th 2371 – 0516 FST
When it happened, it happened quickly. In the dying hours of the Gamma shift, Metcalfe was sat in the centre seat updating his handover brief with the latest intel reports from Starfleet when his concentration was interrupted by a stifled curse from Ottesen at Tactical.
He was turning in his seat to ask what the problem was when the sudden hiss of released gas caused him to look to the overhead.
“Computer override and lockout initiated. Command codes accepted.”
The computer’s calmly stated warning was the last thing Metcalfe heard before the anesthezine overwhelmed him and he tumbled to the deck.
Across the huge starship, the scene was repeated as the gas was released on each deck simultaneously, in some cases with fatal consequences. In the starboard nacelle pylon, an engineer beginning a scheduled maintenance task in a Jefferies tube fell twenty metres to his death. In the cargo hold, a stores crewman was crushed when the palette he had been supervising crushed him against a wall and in the aquatherapy department of the vast sickbay, a pregnant mother slipped unconscious below the surface.
Others were luckier, simply falling where they had stood to suffer nothing more than bruises for now. Only one person aboard the ship was immune to the effects of the anesthezine and she had been chatting to Ensign Vonny Dixon on deck eight when the gas was released.
Chariscarpia, like many others, had immediately looked to the overhead in confusion. With a single inhalation, her positronic net analyzed and identified the gas which only served to increase her sense of puzzlement. She knew it was designed as a fail safe against intruders boarding the ship, but there had been no audible warning and as far as she could see no intruders.
She tapped her commbadge but received the nil connection buzz so attempted to access the computer from a wall panel.
“Computer override and lockout initiated. Access denied.”
Something was terribly wrong and without communication to the bridge she would have to assume the worst for now. Slipping the control panel of the alien artefact into her shoulder bag, she swiftly hoisted Vonny into a shoulder lift before popping the holdfast connectors on a wall panel and placing her in the Jefferies tube that lay inside. Climbing in herself, she pulled the wall panel in behind until she heard the hiss and click of the fasteners re-engaging.
Because of her essentially cybernetic nature, a scan of the ship would have difficulty detecting her life sign against the background electronics but Vonny was not so lucky. Chariscarpia knew they had to move quickly to an area where a scan would prove difficult before she could make further plans. Rapidly deactivating their commbadges, she once again picked Vonny up without effort and began heading down into the bowels of the ship.
She knew that just above the deuterium tanks and antimatter storage was a pump control station that would serve her purposes perfectly. The action of the deuterium pumps combined with the magnetic constrictors on the antimatter storage often caused false or erratic sensor readings in the area.
It was fortunate that her enhanced strength and speed made the descent rapid because at strategic locations around Angel, black clad figures began to materialize.
JUPITER
SOL SYSTEM
23rd January 2026 – 1335 UTC
Deep within the tempestuous Jovian atmosphere, the Sentinel spoke. In a concentrated spike of communication that mankind couldn’t hope to intercept it broadcast a request for information to its siblings amongst the stars. Light years distant, other Sentinels opened their eyes and ears to the universe, co-ordinating their network of observations to precisely locate and plot the future route of the rogue asteroid.
The Sentinel had no sentience of course. It was merely an eons old automaton whose creators were long gone but doubtless if it could have smiled then the data it received back from the ether would have made it do so.
The projected course of the rogue asteroid would indeed bring it into the solar system of mankind with an expected crossing of Earth’s orbital plane. Following a rapid series of calculations however, the Sentinel saw that a window of opportunity existed in which it might possibly alter the asteroid’s course or speed in concert with some of its nearer siblings. Either of these alterations might prove the deciding factor in Earth’s survival.
And so it began its wait.
SUBURBS OF REHOVOT
NEGEV
ISRAEL
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 1232 IST (1032 UTC)
In the Negev Desert region of southern Israel, some 22 kilometres from Tel Aviv, lay the mid-sized Israeli city of Rehovot. It was here, in the abandoned cellar of a derelict house that the battered and traumatized form of Lieutenant Phillip Green shivered to wakefulness.
Around him, rats scattered warily at his sudden movement before continuing to forage for food. Green barely noticed them or the mini Uzi he clutched in his trembling hands. All he could see in his mind’s eye was that terrible flash of light that had sent him into mental breakdown.
The events after that played out in stroboscopic fashion as he had grabbed the mini Uzi from the guard sat in the front seat loosing a spray of 9mm rounds into the cab of the van. He had leapt from the stalled vehicle and run uncaring into the night as his mind screamed for release.
Now, in the dusty light of morning, his mind was quiet despite the gruesome images it refused to hide. He remembered everything from the night in Shreveport when he’d been set up by the team serving Raven until the fateful moment just hours ago when he had been freed from their grasp.
Freed. The thought brought a grim smile to his face. Free to go where? Do what? If he returned to Tel Nof and eventually the USAF, who would believe that everything he had done was because he had been blackmailed? Where was the proof? No, his life as an air force officer was definitely in the past. Which left him where?
The paranoia that was starting to fester in his mind gave him the hint of an answer. Find those who had done this to him. Find them and make them pay. He had no idea how to find them or how to get to them if he knew where they were but it made little impact on his decision. He just simply would.
The rats finally scattered for cover as Green began laughing uncontrollably.
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.
Chapter 9 (cont)
GOVERNMENT COMPLEX
NEW TEHERAN
IRAN
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 1639 IRST (1309 UTC)
Shaheen had returned with Major General Reza Habibi to the badly damaged government building in New Teheran. While the front of the building had received damage from both the missile launch and the Israeli bombing, the annexes to the rear had emerged relatively unscathed.
It was here that the governmental communications and studio facilities had been located and where Habibi was about to take a step into a dangerous unknown. His script had been carefully autocued by Shaheen of course, but the delivery would be the important part.
“Five minutes to broadcast!” The call had come from the floor manager who was even now ushering cameras and floor crew into place. This may well be one of the most important broadcasts ever made from the studio with the very future of Iran hanging on its outcome. He didn’t intend for it to become his last job.
Shaheen studied Habibi closely. “Are you prepared?”
Whether it was the steadying influence of the mind control, the events of the past few days or the broadcast he was about to make to the world, Shaheen didn’t know but a satisfying change had settled over the Commander of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps transforming him from the preening and unctuous figure head he had previously been into a man who seemed born to take the role of leadership.
“If I am not prepared now Shaheen, then I never will be.”
Shaheen allowed Habibi to enter the small studio while he quickly made his way to the gallery to oversee the broadcast. Though he shouldn’t need to make changes to the autocue, it was available nonetheless and Habibi was prepared to change tack at Shaheen’s direction.
“All parties are standing by for transmission. United States, ECoN, Europe, African Confederation, Islamic Bloc, seven minors. One minute to air.”
As the gallery and studio descended into silence, Shaheen watched Habibi settle into the seat backed by the Iranian flag. He straightened his tie and shooed away the makeup girl then faced the camera with a grim expression.
“In three, two…” The floor manager dropped his hand and as the Iranian national anthem, Sorood-e Melli-ye Jomhoori-ye Eslami-ye Iran, began to play Habibi’s eyes took on a sad look. With the dying chords, he looked directly into the camera.
“World leaders, for those who do not know me, I am Major General Reza Habibi, Commander of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and I address you today in shame. Our country has long been punished for the actions of its leaders yet at heart, its people are no different to your own. They looked to their leaders for wisdom and protection in an ever changing world, and seldom received that which they deserved.”
The camera began a slow zoom in.
“Now, the people of Iran have suffered the ultimate betrayal in the actions of a man corrupted by power. Ayatollah Hoseyn Ali Jannati, a man entrusted with the welfare of Iran and its people, acted unilaterally with a secretly inducted corps of military specialists to launch this unprovoked attack upon Israel.”
He gazed at his hands for a moment then held them up to the camera.
“Though I knew nothing of his plans, my hands are still stained by the blood of innocents because I did not in my capacity prevent this atrocity. And so I say again, I address you today in shame. While nothing I can say will remove that shame, I believe that the actions we take from today forward can at least absolve the people of Iran from the catastrophic actions of its leaders.”
The scene cut to images of the destroyed government bunker and the ruined face of the new government building as Habibi continued.
“Today, I step into the vacuum left following the deaths of the majority of Iran’s government. I do this merely on a pro tem basis to allow some form of continuity and wish the world to be aware that my continued service is dependent on the people of Iran, because the time has come for change.”
Shaheen knew that that simple statement would have eyebrows rising across the world.
“For too long the iron fist that has controlled this country has made the lives of its citizens intolerable. It is time for democracy because only democracy can prevent this kind of horror from happening again.”
Once again, the camera cut back to Habibi’s earnest face.
“I am only too well aware that many of you will hear the words I speak and find it difficult to believe them, and I understand this. In the weeks to come, as I oversee the rebuilding of this country, I will speak to each one of you personally. But I say to you all, here and now, that Iran today has no intention to commit further attacks on the world. The process of bringing democracy to my country will not be an easy one. It will have its opponents, but it must succeed. Therefore my first request is for the United Nations Security Council to reconsider the sanctions currently levied against Iran and allow us to prove that this nation is ready to take its place in the free world.”
Habibi sat up straight in the chair looking every inch a man in control.
“Thank you for your patience and restraint under what must have been unbearable pressure to act. Now I must request that patience to extend a little longer while I try and piece together my country. Thank you.”
The image of Habibi faded on the screen to be replaced by an image of a tattered Iranian flag still flying proudly atop the new government building.
“Transmission is terminated.”
The studio erupted in a spontaneous chorus of cheers and applause and Shaheen smiled. He knew though, that the hardliners remaining in Iran would not be so jubilant and Iran would now face its severest test from within.
USS ANGEL
EN-ROUTE TO ARGOLIS SECTOR
UFP SPACE
September 17th 2371 – 0516 FST
When it happened, it happened quickly. In the dying hours of the Gamma shift, Metcalfe was sat in the centre seat updating his handover brief with the latest intel reports from Starfleet when his concentration was interrupted by a stifled curse from Ottesen at Tactical.
He was turning in his seat to ask what the problem was when the sudden hiss of released gas caused him to look to the overhead.
“Computer override and lockout initiated. Command codes accepted.”
The computer’s calmly stated warning was the last thing Metcalfe heard before the anesthezine overwhelmed him and he tumbled to the deck.
Across the huge starship, the scene was repeated as the gas was released on each deck simultaneously, in some cases with fatal consequences. In the starboard nacelle pylon, an engineer beginning a scheduled maintenance task in a Jefferies tube fell twenty metres to his death. In the cargo hold, a stores crewman was crushed when the palette he had been supervising crushed him against a wall and in the aquatherapy department of the vast sickbay, a pregnant mother slipped unconscious below the surface.
Others were luckier, simply falling where they had stood to suffer nothing more than bruises for now. Only one person aboard the ship was immune to the effects of the anesthezine and she had been chatting to Ensign Vonny Dixon on deck eight when the gas was released.
Chariscarpia, like many others, had immediately looked to the overhead in confusion. With a single inhalation, her positronic net analyzed and identified the gas which only served to increase her sense of puzzlement. She knew it was designed as a fail safe against intruders boarding the ship, but there had been no audible warning and as far as she could see no intruders.
She tapped her commbadge but received the nil connection buzz so attempted to access the computer from a wall panel.
“Computer override and lockout initiated. Access denied.”
Something was terribly wrong and without communication to the bridge she would have to assume the worst for now. Slipping the control panel of the alien artefact into her shoulder bag, she swiftly hoisted Vonny into a shoulder lift before popping the holdfast connectors on a wall panel and placing her in the Jefferies tube that lay inside. Climbing in herself, she pulled the wall panel in behind until she heard the hiss and click of the fasteners re-engaging.
Because of her essentially cybernetic nature, a scan of the ship would have difficulty detecting her life sign against the background electronics but Vonny was not so lucky. Chariscarpia knew they had to move quickly to an area where a scan would prove difficult before she could make further plans. Rapidly deactivating their commbadges, she once again picked Vonny up without effort and began heading down into the bowels of the ship.
She knew that just above the deuterium tanks and antimatter storage was a pump control station that would serve her purposes perfectly. The action of the deuterium pumps combined with the magnetic constrictors on the antimatter storage often caused false or erratic sensor readings in the area.
It was fortunate that her enhanced strength and speed made the descent rapid because at strategic locations around Angel, black clad figures began to materialize.
JUPITER
SOL SYSTEM
23rd January 2026 – 1335 UTC
Deep within the tempestuous Jovian atmosphere, the Sentinel spoke. In a concentrated spike of communication that mankind couldn’t hope to intercept it broadcast a request for information to its siblings amongst the stars. Light years distant, other Sentinels opened their eyes and ears to the universe, co-ordinating their network of observations to precisely locate and plot the future route of the rogue asteroid.
The Sentinel had no sentience of course. It was merely an eons old automaton whose creators were long gone but doubtless if it could have smiled then the data it received back from the ether would have made it do so.
The projected course of the rogue asteroid would indeed bring it into the solar system of mankind with an expected crossing of Earth’s orbital plane. Following a rapid series of calculations however, the Sentinel saw that a window of opportunity existed in which it might possibly alter the asteroid’s course or speed in concert with some of its nearer siblings. Either of these alterations might prove the deciding factor in Earth’s survival.
And so it began its wait.
SUBURBS OF REHOVOT
NEGEV
ISRAEL
EARTH
23rd January 2026 – 1232 IST (1032 UTC)
In the Negev Desert region of southern Israel, some 22 kilometres from Tel Aviv, lay the mid-sized Israeli city of Rehovot. It was here, in the abandoned cellar of a derelict house that the battered and traumatized form of Lieutenant Phillip Green shivered to wakefulness.
Around him, rats scattered warily at his sudden movement before continuing to forage for food. Green barely noticed them or the mini Uzi he clutched in his trembling hands. All he could see in his mind’s eye was that terrible flash of light that had sent him into mental breakdown.
The events after that played out in stroboscopic fashion as he had grabbed the mini Uzi from the guard sat in the front seat loosing a spray of 9mm rounds into the cab of the van. He had leapt from the stalled vehicle and run uncaring into the night as his mind screamed for release.
Now, in the dusty light of morning, his mind was quiet despite the gruesome images it refused to hide. He remembered everything from the night in Shreveport when he’d been set up by the team serving Raven until the fateful moment just hours ago when he had been freed from their grasp.
Freed. The thought brought a grim smile to his face. Free to go where? Do what? If he returned to Tel Nof and eventually the USAF, who would believe that everything he had done was because he had been blackmailed? Where was the proof? No, his life as an air force officer was definitely in the past. Which left him where?
The paranoia that was starting to fester in his mind gave him the hint of an answer. Find those who had done this to him. Find them and make them pay. He had no idea how to find them or how to get to them if he knew where they were but it made little impact on his decision. He just simply would.
The rats finally scattered for cover as Green began laughing uncontrollably.
