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Star Trek : Angel - Book IV - Saving History II

Chapter 23

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter 23


USS ANGEL
EN-ROUTE TO ARGOLIS SECTOR
UFP SPACE
September 17th 2371 – 0711 FST


Muresh had barely turned away from the monitors when she heard Kellman’s shout.

“Muresh, this is Kellman on the medical deck. We have a situation.”

She stopped mid-stride, her eyes screwing shut and an Orion curse resting on her lips.

“Deal with it Kellman!”

“Er…Muresh?”

She span about to unleash a torrent of abuse at the total inability of her crew to accomplish the simplest of tasks when she saw Conran pointing at the screen. Blaster bolts were criss-crossing the monitor screen apparently at random in the darkened confines of the medical deck. This time she spat the curse out and Conran blanched.

“Kellman report!” There was no reply and similarly with her call to Tazat. About to order a party of the bridge boarders to attend the scene, she heard the sputter of a force field activating behind her and turned to find that the bridge had been neatly bisected. On one side of the screen were the Orion party, on the other the Angel’s bridge officers.

For a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, all was silence and stillness on the bridge. Breaking the spell, Muresh strode to within a hair’s breadth of the force field, the static making her short red hair wave as if in a breeze.

“I don’t know how you did this Gray but it was a mistake!” Muresh’s teeth were bared in a feral grimace of anger, but Kat didn’t flinch. Instead she too approached the fizzling force field and stared directly into the Orion’s angry eyes.

“The only mistake is yours Muresh. I didn’t do this; one of my crew did and believe me when I find out who it was they’ll be recommended for a citataion.”

Muresh drew back a fist before realising the folly of such an action and instead turned to the remaining members of her crew.

“Get down to the medical deck and finish this!”

Preferring the risk of phaser fire to that of facing his angered leader, the senior crew member sprinted towards the bridge’s rear exit only to rebound off the door which solidly refused to open. By the time he’d regained his feet, a second crew member had anticipated the order to use the Jefferies tubes to descend.

When she too was thrown across the deck by a strong electrical charge, Muresh seemed to sag. When she finally returned her gaze to Kat, the fight seemed to have leeched from her eyes, yet the defiance in her stance was apparent.

“So Captain Gray, what now?”

Kat smiled smugly and shook her head. “I have no idea but I suspect we’ll know soon enough.”
**********

On the medical deck, Kellman had found herself crouched in a corner as phantom shadows flitted across her peripheral vision seeming to appear and disappear at random. She had attempted shots at these spectres, but only succeeded in stunning one of her own team and so had pulled back into the shadows to wait.

Soon enough a temporary silence engulfed her section and she quietly stepped forward towards the door, blaster raised and senses screaming that somebody was waiting for her. When she quickly risked a glance into the broad central corridor, she saw nobody. No bodies, no sign of her team.

“Tazat, this is Kellman, respond.” Only silence greeted her calls and eventually, she silently slipped out to head for the room Tazat had first entered.

Like the area she had just vacated, this one was in semi-darkness, the only light coming from the medical equipment and monitor panels, but it was enough to see the unmistakable form of Tazat stretched out on the deck.

Easing cautiously forward, she swept the room with the muzzle of the blaster but saw no movement. By the time she had reached Tazat’s still body her heart was beating like a trip hammer.

“Tazat!” she hissed. She nudged him with her foot as she continued to scan around the room but there was no response. Leaning down slowly she rapidly scanned his body but saw no phaser burns or other wounds. Placing her fingers against his neck, she breathed a sigh of relief to feel a strong pulse.

It was then that she felt the cold of steel against her neck in the slight gap between suit and helmet. Strangely, as her eyes began to close, she was sure she heard a male voice say “There, don’t worry, the nurse will be with you shortly…”
**********

“Move it up Jenningsss!” The hiss in Ress’s voice was far more effective than any shout could have been and the Ensign bringing up the rear of the freed security party accelerated his climb up the Jefferies tube.

“Torbin, Galeth, hold here.” Ress pointed a curved talon at the deck then gestured forward. “Gupta, Evansss, you have the fore accesss, Carmen and Ture the aft. Jenkinsss,” his claw swung to indicate the out of breath ensign. “You’re with me.” Bestowing a baleful glare on the unfortunate man was enough to make him straighten up and nod.

“Remember, nobody movesss until we get the go from Charlie, underssstood?”

With nods all around, the details headed out to their allocated locations to await the final go signal from Chariscarpia. Around the main medical deck, similar parties had made their way to strategic locations close to the segregated boarders. Others had headed down to engineering and back to the hangar deck which although reported clear were still being treated as hostile until proven otherwise.

In a matter of minutes, the combined security teams had checked in after liberating more weapons en route and they stood silently behind the engineering access panels as Chariscarpia counted down.

“On my mark, three…two…one…Mark!”

A second after the security teams had burst into the corridors on either side of the trapped boarders she dropped the screens, effectively allowing a barrage of phaser fire to stun them into submission.

One of the boarders, more resilient to the stun setting than his comrades, surreptitiously edged his hand towards his dropped blaster. When a giant, taloned foot slammed down on the weapon, he snatched his hand back quickly wondering if he’d actually lost any fingers. A final phaser blast took away the nightmare vision.

Ress tapped his communicator delicately. “Sssierra one reportsss sssection 8-12 Alpha sssecure.”

The chime of a transporter beam accompanied the dissolution of the twelve boarders in his section, beamed now to the secure area on the cargo deck that had previously held the Starfleet crew.

“Niccce work Jenkinsss,” he hissed bestowing what the ensign hoped was a smile upon him. “Might need to work on thossse fitnesss levelsss though.”

**********

Back on the bridge, Muresh had witnessed the effective ruin of her plan with growing despondency. She at last turned to sit in the centre seat, still separated from the Starfleet crew by the force field.

Resting her elbows on her knees, she eventually looked up at Kat.

“It would seem Captain that whoever masterminded this is a skilful and swift operative.” She gave a tired grin. “I don’t suppose you’d allow me to offer them alternative employment?”

“I suspect that even if I did they would turn down the offer.” She stepped once more towards the force field that segregated them. “Now, it seems to me that…”

Kat was interrupted by the squawk of Muresh’s communicator. The sound transformed the Orion from dejected to active in a flash as a voice broke through the static.

“Muresh, this is Valens. What is your status?”

Much as Muresh personally felt that Valens would stab her in the back to gain control of the cartel, she had never been so glad to hear his voice.

“Mission is scrubbed Valens. The artefact is not here. Request immediate beam out protocol Shagar.”

“Better make it fast then. I have two Federation vessels in pursuit. Valens out.”

There was a definite hint of disgust in the man’s voice which Muresh silently vowed to take him to account for when she returned to the ship. She stood from the centre seat, now obviously back in command.

“I have to say Captain that while my mission here seems to have been a wasted one it has made me more appreciative of the calibre of officer that Starfleet seems to be turning out these days.”

“So what now Muresh?” Kat was genuinely curious. As a Starfleet officer she would have happily watched Muresh being sent for rehab, but as a human she needed to understand the woman’s drive for revenge.

“My word was given Captain. Your vessel and its crew were merely the bearers of the artefact and your crew’s actions are to be applauded. I would have expected nothing less from my own crew.” She turned an unexpectedly warm smile on Kat. “You should be proud of their ingenuity Captain.”

Somewhat surprised at the turn in Muresh’s manner she nodded.

“Pride in my crew comes with the job Muresh.” She paused fleetingly. “Just a suggestion but instead of doing this the hard way, wouldn’t it make sense to swallow your pride and approach the Klingons directly?”

The Orion tilted her head on one side. “Perhaps the chase has become more important than the quarry Captain.” She turned to stand at the rear of the bridge grouped with her remaining boarders, but just before she shimmered out of existence she smiled again. “I’ll consider it Captain.”

**********

Chariscarpia had detected the inbound Orion vessel moments before it dropped out of high warp. She had no access to the shields which had been initially bypassed by the Orion’s override codes and for a moment felt that the fight to regain control of Angel might have been to no avail. It was as the boarders began to disappear from the cargo bay and the bridge that she also detected two incoming Starfleet vessels and realised that this was a rapid retreat by the Orions and not reinforcement.

It was at that moment she felt the full weight of something she had taken for granted until now. Her emotions, following the transfer into this android body, had remained intact evidenced by the feeling of sheer relief as the large Orion vessel rapidly departed under full warp with the Galaxy class USS Chesapeake Bay in hot pursuit. It had been a matter of debate between herself and Data in the days prior to her transfer whether she would maintain the capacity for emotions and she luxuriated in the feeling for just a moment.

The second ship, the USS Von Braun, reverted to real space in close proximity to Angel and hailed them. Somewhat embarrassed, Chariscarpia suddenly realised that she had yet to drop the security screen on the bridge and quickly did so. With the SCE vessel now in attendance, she felt now might be a prudent time to report to the Captain.
 
Chapter 23 (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 23 (cont)


6TH FLOOR
CIA NEW HEADQUARTERS BUILDING
LANGLEY VA, USA
EARTH
3rd February 2026 – 1003 EST (1503 UTC)


For the better part of two hours, Keller went over every piece of information that the two teams had collected. While she had naturally read the briefing document, she told them that hearing the information directly from those involved with its collation sharpened her understanding of it and helped to frame it in her mind.

As the agents had spoken Keller had relaxed into the persona of a field agent, rarely taking notes but often asking questions. Every so often she would close her eyes and hold up her hand for the agent to pause as if she were constructing a scene in her mind.

Following the debrief, Keller requested to speak to each agent individually. Martinez had already been interviewed and had returned to her desk to collect documentation that Keller required. Harrison was currently speaking to the NCS Director, and subsequently Baxter and Collins now found themselves alone in the corridor outside the conference room.

“If nothing else, she’s damned thorough,” said Baxter in a low voice.

“What do you think the individual interviews are all about?” Collins was more curious than worried, but this investigation had snowballed into a monster and was certainly the most complex she had been attached to in her short time with the FBI. She wanted to make sure, on both a personal and professional level, that she got this one right.

“Perhaps it’s just Keller being thorough.” Baxter turned to his partner and smiled as he looked beyond her. “Don’t worry, whatever it is I think you’re about to find out.”

As Harrison left Keller’s office, he nodded and smiled to the two FBI agents as Keller herself poked her head out into the corridor.

“Ms Collins?”

“Welcome to the world of spookery partner,” grinned Baxter.

**********

Closing the door behind her, Collins took the proffered seat and faced Keller who was paging through documents on her data slate.

“Firstly Agent Collins, I’d like to compliment you and Agent Baxter on the work you’ve done here. Neat, concise and secure. I like that in an investigation.”

“Thank you ma’am, though I have to say it’s been Agent Baxter’s lead on this one.”

Keller smiled as she placed the data slate on her desktop and Collins was sure she saw her FBI sheet briefly displayed before the screen saver kicked in.

“It’s usually been my experience that a partnership is exactly that; one person balancing and complementing the qualities of the other. That aside, I’d just like to discuss your service record for a moment.”

Collins had no idea where this was going and suddenly recalled the last time she been stopped by a police officer. She knew she’d committed no highway indiscretions and yet still felt guilty of something as the officer checked her documents. She calmly reminded herself that it had been nothing more than a spot check and hoped that this would prove to be equally routine.

“Ok let’s see. Languages…Russian, Arabic, German...” Keller scanned down through the record sheet nodding to herself and stopped at a section roughly halfway down. “Ah, here we go. I see that you applied for the advanced field operations course but didn’t complete it?”

Collins remembered the incident only too well. She’d been offered the chance to take the course after qualifying top of her class in the FBI’s Officer Survival Skills training course. Although it had been an ad hoc opportunity, Collins had been keen to avail herself of every training opportunity she could at Quantico and while advanced field operations training was not high on the FBI’s agenda, it appealed to her sense of adventure.

Jointly run by the Marines in conjunction with the CIA, for two weeks it tested the physical and mental tenacity of candidates in an escape and evasion scenario and Collins had thought herself completely prepared for the rigours it presented. Sadly things went wrong before her boots even hit dirt.

Insertion into the exercise area had been via fast-rope from a USMC helicopter, a thrilling but dangerous experience. Collins paused in her recollections of the day.

“So what happened?” queried Keller.

Sighing deeply, she replied “The knucklehead Marine behind me left the chopper too soon and I broke his fall.” Keller winced at the mental image. “Eight weeks in traction and I never got a second shot at it.”

At last, Keller nodded and closed the screen on her data slate.

“Alright Agent Collins, that’ll be all for now thank you. Would you mind sending Agent Baxter in please?”

Collins stood, still totally in the dark about the reason for the interview. She nodded and left the room to find Baxter precisely where she’d left him, looking bored and tired.

“Don’t tell me,” he said with a hint of a smile, “they’re trying to recruit us as insiders and they’ve offered you a condo in Miami plus your own office?”

She slumped in the chair next to him and stage whispered “The walls have ears.” When he gave her an exasperated look, she shrugged. “I have no idea what it’s about but you’re next. Go get ‘em cowboy.”


USS BLACKWELL
LAKE KHOVSGOL
NORTHERN MONGOLIA
EARTH
26th April 2053 – 2314 UBT (1514 UTC)

When Gabe eventually returned to the cockpit, Dan noticed that he seemed to have fresh colour in his cheeks which was a significant improvement over the ashen expression he’d worn previously.

“Feeling better?”

Gabe’s smile seemed filled with melancholy to Dan, but then he wondered whether he might not be projecting some of his own emotions on to his friend.

“Better is a pretty subjective term my comrade Captain, though I can’t deny it’s pepped me up a little.”

Dan considered asking about the underlying symptoms but eventually decided he’d speak to Misaki in private about it.

“Well just five more days and we’re gone. Think you can hack it?”

“You know I remember you saying exactly the same thing on Holek. Remember that? The garrison was being shut down and we ended up as the caretakers because the local loonies had signed a cease fire agreement?”

Dan nodded, recalling the incident some years before.

“The local government didn’t want Federation troops interfering any more, yea I remember that too well.”

A day before the final transport was due to arrive, the proverbial hit the fan and suddenly Holek’s leaders were demanding that the remaining Starfleet SpecOps troops do something to stop the threatened coup. Unable to leave but under orders not to support either faction, the troops had to watch as rioting turned to bloodshed. As usual it was the innocents that had suffered because of the machinations of politics.

“I’m just getting tired of it all Dan. Politicians create the mess, we get sent in to clean it up. If things go right the politicians get the praise, if things go wrong the troops get stuck with the blame.” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s time for me to get out of Starfleet.”

Dan looked at Gabe askance. “Is this the same Gabe Martello who swore the only way out of SpecOps was with a posthumous citation?”

“Did I say that?” Gabe chuckled, perhaps the first real laugh Dan had heard from him in a while. “Y’know I’m sure you make these things up.”

“Well it’s the kinda thing you’d say.” Dan stood and stretched. “Sleep on it Gabe. This whole situation has got me pretty restless too.”

When Gabe stood, he took Dan’s hand in a tight clasp. “Listen I just wanna say thanks, for everything ya know?”

Dan was touched by the gesture and grinned lopsidedly at Gabe. “If you’re gonna start going all mushy on me, I’m going to get Misaki to sedate you again.”

“Whatever,” he replied. “As long as you know. G’night Dan.”

He watched the big man amble aft towards the mid-ship cabins and smiled. They’d shared as many bad times as good times but always, they’d come through them. He just hoped this time would prove the same.

Dimming the cockpit lights, he made sure that Homer’s recorders were still collecting data before heading to his own cabin.

**********

It was just over two hours later when he awoke in a cold sweat from dreams of blinding lights and horrific screams. Instinctively, he knew that it wasn’t the dream that had woken him but couldn’t actively pin down what had. As he stood to draw a fresh glass of cool water from the replicator, his ears picked up the muted beep of a computer alarm forward.

The only active alarms they had set were proximity alarms for the area surrounding the lake. If one of those had tripped, all four bunks would have received a piercing wake up call.

Quietly slipping out into the narrow corridor, he made his way forward and the source of the alarm became clear. The two man transporter pad had recently been activated outbound and the co-ordinates left on the console indicated that San Francisco had been the destination.

Hurrying back to the mid-ship area his suspicions were confirmed when he entered Gabe’s bunk. The bed had not been slept in and on it rested Gabe's comm badge and a hand written note which read simply;

Thanks Dan. You’re a joker, but thanks.

Hope you understand.

Gabe


Dan closed his eyes and only just managed to bite back a curse.
 
Chapter 24

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter 24



JOHNSON SPACE CENTRE
NASA FORWARD OPERATING LOCATION
EL PASO
TEXAS, USA
EARTH
3rd February 2026 – 0833 MST (1533 UTC)


The three MACO pilots and their respective commanders had joined the crew of Ares to fly west to NASA’s forward operating location in El Paso, Texas. It was here that NASA kept their fleet of four training aircraft. Originally designed to train the shuttle pilots, the Shuttle Training Aircraft had been switched to the newer Gulfstream G650, refitted for Swift operations but still retained their STA acronym.

The four aircraft's exteriors had been modified to withstand the high aerodynamic forces incurred during training sorties. A redesigned cockpit provided a high-fidelity simulation of the Swift RLV’s controls and pilot vantage point; even the seats were fitted in the same position as those in the Swift.

For the MACO team members, today was an introduction to the Gulfstream. The Ares crew had flown out with them to conduct an exercise on the edge of the White Sands Missile Range.

On the way in to Biggs Army Air Field at El Paso, Mitch had been puzzled by a comment he’d overheard from John Kelly, Ares’ commander, sat two rows back.

“Hey Rose, check it out.”

Rose Kumagawa, the pretty Ares Mission Specialist, had stirred in her seat to grunt something unintelligible at Kelly before closing her eyes again.

“No seriously Rose, look.”

“This better not be a joke John.” Grumpily, she pulled herself across the narrow aisle to look out of the small window.

Kelly shook his head and pointed out of the starboard cabin window.

“See it? Over there?”

Kumagawa squinted against the glare from the desert and shook her head.

“Give me a clue what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

Unseen by Kumagawa, Kelly stifled a huge grin.

“See way off in the distance there? That’s Roswell.”

Mitch saw Kumagawa screw her face up in exasperation and wondered just what Kelly was getting at.

“Ok John, ha ha. I am so amused.” She gave Kelly a withering stare that was tempered by a half smile then flopped back down in her own seat again.

Noticing Mitch’s puzzled expression, Kelly winked. “I’ll explain later.”

After landing, the MACO AsCans bid farewell to the Ares crew and were escorted off to a cool briefing room on the east side of the airfield. Waiting inside was the now familiar face of Adam Bell, the Swift instructor.

“Well I’m glad to see the red-eye flight out here hasn’t dampened your enthusiasm ladies and gentlemen.” He grinned at the somewhat tired faces of the six AsCans. “Don’t worry, we’ll ply you with coffee and pastries before we begin. So how’s the learning curve?”

“Steep, steep, steep,” laughed Marker. “I gotta admit though, that RSFR is pretty cool.”

Bell nodded as he took a seat with the AsCans. “Thought you’d be impressed,” he replied, “but remember it’s an aid to learning, not a replacement. Oh and don’t forget that the propeller heads want you to fill in the questionnaire about it on a weekly basis.”

The Rapid Subliminal Fact Retention that the AsCans were using as an aid to their learning was still in its infancy and the medics at NASA were taking no chances despite the fact that, so far, there had been no issues with it.

“Any headaches, dizziness, nausea…”

“Zombie tendencies,” quipped Marker, earning him a world weary glance from Bell.

“Those too Colonel.” Bell returned his attention to the group in general. “If you feel it’s out of place, report to the medics and fill it in on the form ok?”

Seeing that everybody understood, he rubbed his hands together and stood. “Ok, time to sample the delights of the Fort Biggs PX and then we’ll prepare to venture into the wide blue yonder”, he looked at Marker. “Even the zombies amongst us.”

Mitch slapped his friend on the shoulder as they made their way outside to the waiting bus.

“Well, well, well. After all these years you get a proper nickname we can use in public!”

“Yea, but Zombie?”

Mitch was still laughing at his friend’s stricken expression when they reached the PX.


NATIONAL NAVAL MEDICAL CENTRE
BETHESDA
MARYLAND, USA
EARTH
3rd February 2026 – 0933 EST (1533 UTC)


Abigail March had faced death before in her life and when she had previously visited Madeline Everett, she had felt compelled to confide in her.

There had been the time when she’d had to deadstick one of NASA’s T38 Talons on to the ground at Edwards Air Force Base following a bird strike. She had no idea where the flock of birds had come from but the twin engines had flamed out immediately after ingesting them. Restarts had failed and the ejection seat mechanism had been damaged; not a good day for any fast jet pilot.

March had been forced to stick with the aircraft eventually bringing it in for an almost perfect landing though she remembered little of it apart from the stench of fish in the cockpit.

Then there had been the time aboard the International Space Station when she had made an EVA with fellow astronaut Alan Cameron. One of the two cooling units for the station’s systems had to be replaced due to an ongoing fault, something that was termed in NASA-speak as a ‘Big 14 failure’.

The work was actually quite routine in itself and was only prolonged when one of the unit's four hoses was found to be stubbornly jammed. Had the work gone as planned then they would have been back inside when the piece of space debris made its appearance.

If the average person on the street was ever asked to define space debris, the odds are that they would think of expired satellites, expended rocket stages or something of that ilk. The truth was that while there were indeed objects of that size to cause problems, much of the space debris was much smaller. The real problem was the speed it travelled at; below 2,000km altitude it was calculated that the average relative impact speed from these small pieces could be as high as 36,000kmph.

NASA had found that it had to frequently replace windows on the space shuttle that had been damaged by objects as small as a flake of paint. To put it into perspective, a pea-sized ball moving that fast was as dangerous as a 180kg safe travelling at almost 100kmph.

It was thought that the debris that hit March’s Personal Manoeuvring Unit was smaller than that, but the effect was both dramatic and instantaneous. As it punched through a nitrogen feed line, she was thrown sideways into Cameron and had it not been for the tether that connected her to the station she would have spun off into space without a chance of recovery.

Acting quickly, March had slapped the quick release toggles for the PMU allowing it to pirouette down and away under the force of the escaping nitrogen before clawing her way back up the tether to where a dazed Cameron clung to the station’s S1 truss.

On each of those occasions, however, she had ultimately been in control of her own destiny, unlike the crash of Air Force One. There she had merely been a passenger with her life in the hands of others and never had she felt so terrified or so helpless.

As she had sat relating all this to Madeline Everett in her private hospital suite, March had felt a gamut of emotions from embarrassment to weakness and finally to relief that she might have at last exorcised the terror that had plagued her dreams.

Her catharsis became complete, however, when Madeline had quietly spoken of her own terror and the still lingering sense of dread. She had taken March’s hand and said, almost too quietly to hear, “You’re not alone Abbie.”

That had been the day before and when March returned she felt a renewed strength of spirit. So, it seemed, did the President because today she was out of bed and in her wheelchair waiting for March when she arrived.

With no mention of their previous conversation, Maddy held up the data slate she’d been studying and smiled. “This makes exciting reading Abbie.”

March had flashed the B.I.T proposition to Maddy the previous evening including the request by Brack to utilise the asteroid for commercial purposes once it had been arrested.

“Can it be done?”

March took the proffered chair and Maddy thought that she had never seen the striking woman seem so enthused.

“Well Mr Brack obviously believes it can Ma’am, and to be honest he’s never missed yet.” She thumbed on her own data slate and paged to the report proffered by Brack International Technologies. “Its new technology obviously, but it has its basis in tried and tested equipment. Add to that the fact that B.I.T. was heavily involved in the Magellan mission and I would say its reason enough to be excited.”

“Has NASA confirmed the status of the ISS?”

The space station’s operational status had been the one question mark so far because it had been on the horizon line when Iran had detonated their nuclear weapon.

“All the systems are back online, mainly tripped electrical buses from residual discharge. They’re reporting 89% functionality and that’s only because the remaining systems are still getting the once over.”

B.I.T.’s plan involved launching the elements of their craft into Earth orbit where they would be assembled prior to their jourmey out to rendezvous with the asteroid. All of the assembly co-ordination would take place on the ISS but there would be an added element launched into orbit as well; an inflatable habitat.

Maddy turned her data slate towards March to display the melon shaped modules. “Inflatable?”

March smiled at Maddy’s expression. “I know, it sounds mad but it works trust me.”

She explained that NASA had worked on an inflatable space habitat, known as Transhab, years before. The design was tested at the agency's Johnson Space Centre and was mooted as an alternative to the "hard" habitation modules used for the International Space station. Following budget cuts by the US Congress, the Transhab programme ended in 2001, and an entrepreneur by the name of Robert Bigelow acquired the patents and rights to the design soon after.

The secret behind the durability of the modules rested in its construction. Built around a rigid central core and two solid bulkheads, the inflatable walls were composed of a range of materials including Kevlar, often used in bullet-proof vests, and a fibrous textile called Vectran. With the walls being 40cm thick, the design had proved both durable and safe.

“Even better,” she continued, “is the fact that it folds up neatly for launch. We don’t need the heavy lift technology that solid modules would require.”

Maddy shook her head admiringly. “This has come together so much quicker than I expected and with a damn sight less aggravation.”

“I get the feeling that impending destruction tends to focus the political mindset which has helped.” She chuckled. “As for the scientific mind, who knows what goes on in there.”

After a few moments humour at the expense of the world scientific community, Maddy levelled her gaze at the NASA administrator.

“Bottom line Abbie, will it be in time?”

March became serious when she answered. “Ma’am if you’re asking for a cast iron guarantee, then I’m sorry I can’t give you one.” She leaned forward in her chair earnestly. “What I can say is that all the ducks are lined up. If it fails it won’t be for the lack of effort or planning.”

“That’s all I needed to hear Abbie thank you.” Shutting down her data slate, she smiled grimly. “Time, I think, to take it to the policy makers.”
 
Chapter 24 (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 24 (cont)



KREMLIN
SOBORNAYA PLOSHAD
MOSCOW
RUSSIA
EARTH
3rd February 2026 – 1901 MSK (1601 UTC)


Yevgenii Sagalevich stood silently as he watched the now gentle but persistent snow fall on Red Square. Muscovites had largely heeded calls to avoid driving in the near blizzard conditions that had persisted throughout most of the day but still the tourists braved the elements.

Sagalevich recalled a time early in his political career, before the breakup of the Soviet Union, when he had been charged with escorting the American ambassador on a visit to the Kremlin. The snow had lain thick on Moscow’s streets and the driver had lost control, fortunately at a ridiculously slow speed. A small dent in the wing of the car and a slightly shaken Ambassador were the only consequences of that night over 40 years ago and he smiled as he recalled it.

At the age of 65, Sagalevich had seen Russia emerge from a decade of post-Soviet economic and political turmoil to reassert itself as a world power. Income from vast natural resources, above all oil and gas, had finally helped Russia overcome the economic collapse of 1998.

Economic strength allowed succeeding governments to enhance state control over political institutions and the media, buoyed by extensive public support for their policies. Yet, thought Sagalevich, Russia is no longer seen as the power she used to be.

Spanning nine time zones, Russia was still the largest country on earth in terms of surface area, although large tracts in the north and east were still inhospitable and sparsely populated. Despite its size and its still formidable armed forces, people no longer spoke of it as a superpower though. America and China were the public image of superpowers now, especially since the forming of the Eastern Coalition of Nations.

“Tell me Anatoly,” he said quietly, “what do you love about Russia?”

General Anatoly Kosachev, who had served as the pro tem leader of Russia during the in-fighting that followed the death of Premier Sergey Altukhov, shifted restlessly in his seat.

He knew that tomorrow, he would resume his previous role as First Deputy Defense Minister and Chief of General Staff when Sagalevich was officially sworn in as Premier and was not comfortable with the situation.

Be honest, he thought as he considered the odd question, it’s not the situation you’re uncomfortable with, it’s the man.

Sagalevich had always been the kingmaker, never the king. The world outside saw him as somebody who drifted with the political tide and yet Kosachev knew that to be false. Sagalevich drifted nowhere because he was the one who directed the current.

“Russia is my homeland Sir,” he answered at last realising that Sagalevich had turned to look at him. “My whole adult life has been dedicated to its defence and wellbeing. How could I not love it?”

The Premier-to-be nodded sagely, his shock of white hair and beard making him appear as gentle and benevolent as Ded Moroz or Grandfather Frost, the Russian version of Santa Claus. The illusion was shattered by the piercing blue eyes that were as hard as diamonds and as cold as the frigid air outside the warm confines of the Kremlin.

“For me, Anatoly, it is nights such as this.” He turned back to look through the window. “Nights where the snow lays thick on the ground and the fire burns brightly.”

Kosachev dearly wanted to point out that not all Russians enjoyed the warmth of a fire on winter nights. Despite the economic growth of Russia, there were still those living in abject poverty. Wisdom dictated that he stay silent however.

For now, Kosachev would hand the reins of the Russian Federation to this man but he would watch him carefully. He had spoken the truth when he had said that his life had been dedicated to Russia’s defence and wellbeing and whoever took charge of it now should also hold that responsibility dear.

At the back of his mind, as he recalled those cold eyes, he had the uneasy feeling that the only thing that Sagalevich held dear was power.


USS ANGEL
EN-ROUTE TO ARGOLIS SECTOR
UFP SPACE
September 17th 2371 – 0830 FST


Along with Commander Ahaila Mazan from the USS Von Braun, Chariscarpia waited patiently for Kat to complete her initial report to Starfleet. Mazan was the not only the first officer of the Von Braun, but head of the SCE team that served aboard her. Her team were already at work undoing the mess that Muresh’s override codes had caused aboard Angel, with Chariscarpia having already briefed them on the changes that she hadn’t had time to rectify.

Finally terminating her connection to Starfleet, Kat turned her attention once more to the pair of women before her who in appearance were polar opposites. Chariscarpia was tall, her luxurious brunette hair currently tied back in a comfortable pony tale where Mazan stood no more than 5ft 3in with a full figure and the traditional Deltan bald head. Both women, however, exuded confidence, authority and beauty.

“Commander Mazan, I understand your team are ahead of schedule with the computer purge?”

Mazan straightened as she replied which only served to define her curvaceous figure even more. Following the stimulating effects of Muresh’s pheromones on the bridge, Kat was well aware that the Deltan’s presence was only exacerbating the effect.

“Yes Captain, though we owe thanks to Chariscarpia for pointing us in the direction of one or two more exotic alterations that the Orions threw in.”

“Excellent Commander. Do you have an estimate for the completion of the work?”

By now, Kat was heartily sick and tired of the delays and diversions that Angel had been subject to and simply wanted to return to her task of escorting the refugees to Cestus III.

“Unless we hit any unexpected snags, Angel should be free for space by 1100 Captain.”

Kat nodded and shook the Deltan’s hand. “My thanks to you and your team Commander. Advise me when we’re up and running.”

The Deltan smiled and withdrew from the ready room when Kat noticed a slightly worried expression on Chariscarpia’s face.

“Something wrong Chariscarpia?”

“I was about to ask the same question Captain. I noticed that your body temperature and pulse were elevated and…”

Kat raised her hand with a smile. “Whoa. I know where this is heading. Reference the Starfleet database on Orion and Deltan pheromone effects when you get the chance.” She took her seat behind the desk once more and smiled as she saw Chariscarpia’s eyebrows rise. “Oh right, of course, I forgot you have direct access,” she said tapping her temple.

“I understand now Captain. My apologies.”

Kat waved away the embarrassed apology and invited Chariscarpia to take a seat.

“That was quite some job you did there Chariscarpia. I want to thank you on behalf of myself and the whole crew.”

Chariscarpia smiled self deprecatingly. “I believe that any crew member would have acted likewise Captain and of course I had help.”

“Oh I’ll be speaking to the Ensigns later,” she said having already noted their actions for citations. “So are you going to tell me the whole story now?”

“Captain?” Kat was slightly amused at Chariscarpia’s innocent expression of confusion.

“Well, for instance why did you send out a Valkyrie rather than a runabout for example?”

“Ah…” Kat thought she briefly detected a moment of embarrassment from the android. “That was more a decision based on an error Captain. When I first discovered that there were intruders on the ship, I took the precaution of enabling the runabout override codes to prevent their use. By the time I had arrived at the final option of using a diversion, the Valkyries were the only warp capable craft available for immediate dispatch.”

“Well it paid off,” she replied. “Where did you send it out of interest?”

“I knew that at its top speed of Warp 4 it would not be able to outrun the Orion vessel for long, even using evasive tactics, so I programmed it to head for the nearest Starfleet exercise area broadcasting an automated distress message.”

Kat nodded in acknowledgment of Chariscarpia’s quick thinking. “Well the only other mystery is the true location of the artefact.”

“That,” she replied, “was another case of a fortuitous decision. I had conferred with Commander Winston about the possibility of storing the artefact in one of the stasis chambers in an attempt to prevent another accidental activation. I understand that a by-product of the chamber was that it effectively masked the artefact’s chroniton emissions. It was while I was on my way to the bridge to inform you of the relocation that the Orions arrived.”

Kat laughed out loud, briefly startling Chariscarpia. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised that Starfleet hasn’t relieved me of command and given you a field promotion to Captain.” Regaining her composure she looked Chariscarpia squarely in the eyes. “I have a proposition for you and I don’t expect an immediate answer ok?”

The android returned the Captain’s look expectantly.

“I would like to request that you become an auxiliary member of Angel’s staff. I could think of a dozen different positions that would suit your skills, but most importantly I’ve come to highly value your friendship.” Kat stood and held her hands open. “Would you at least consider it?”

Stunned and elated, Chariscarpia rose from her seat with a broad smile on her beautiful face.

“I am honoured at your request Captain. I believe at this moment there is little that requires consideration, but what of Starfleet?”

“I think after your actions today, Starfleet would be foolish to decline.”
 
Oh no! Another power hungry string-puller getting the keys to a nation (and its nuclear arsenal). I wonder how long it will be before Sagalevich gets Russia involved in WW3? Or will he? Is he an augment too? Whatever the case I think bad times lay ahead for Russia. Guess I'll have to wait for more.
 
Good ol' Yevgenii has yet to show his true colours, but then so has his Chief of General Staff!:evil: I shall say no more!

Thanks for the continued custom! :lol:
 
Chapter 25

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter 25


THE PRESIDIO
SAN FRANCISCO,
CALIFORNIA, USA
EARTH
26th April 2053 – 0747 PST (1547 UTC)


When Dan finally rematerialised and was released from the transporter effect, it was with a deep sense of misgiving. The whole idea of remaining where they had been in Mongolia was that they had an almost zero chance of changing the timeline in any way. Gabe’s inexplicable departure had changed all that.

Dan had been forced to weigh the consequences of allowing Gabe to disappear into the 21st century, whatever his reasons, against the disruption any inadvertent act he committed could cause. The bottom line was that he had no choice but to follow.

Leaving orders to keep a permanent transporter lock on him, he had quickly changed into clothing that wouldn’t go amiss in this century and stepped into the world of the past.

As the transporter effect cleared, Dan found himself alone in the park land of the Presidio. From his left and slightly above came the noise of early morning traffic streaming north on to the Golden Gate Bridge, a sound which by the 24th century was non-existent. By his era, the bridge carried the maglev that ran in both directions in tunnels.

Misaki had programmed a medical tricorder to scan specifically for Gabe’s bio-signature which, out of time as it was, differed enough to make it traceable if he was lucky. Ducking behind a low wall, he opened the tricorder and set it to scan praying that Gabe hadn’t taken some from of transportation away from the area.

Around him, a damp and cold fog blew in from across the Bay spotting his clothing with fine droplets of water and chilling him to the bone. While the tricorder scanned, Dan had time to marvel at the eerie feeling of witnessing history first hand. While they had spent some short while in the forests around the lake, it was easy to believe they were simply in their own time. Here, with the huge span of the Golden Gate Bridge disappearing north into the fog and the land that would one day house Starfleet Academy remaining empty around him, he at last felt the full impact of when he was.

His thoughts were interrupted by the double bleep of the tricorder advising him that it had discovered readings matching those of the programmed search parameters. Studying the small screen he saw that the target, if it was Gabe, was stationary just about 1000 metres north of his position. He looked up towards the towering edifice that was the Golden Gate Bridge and a chill ran down his spine.

Heading up on to the 10 foot wide walkway that ran the length of the eastern side of the bridge, Dan set off at a brisk jog discretely checking the tricorder each time he got the chance. Whether it was because it was early morning, or perhaps the inclement weather he didn’t know but there was a distinct lack of foot traffic. Every so often he passed a CCTV camera mounted on a pole and attempted to keep his face turned away from it without looking suspicious in his actions.

Damn it Gabe, just what the hell are you up to? The thought ran around in his mind as he slowed his jog some 15 minutes later. He was about to make one more sweep with the tricorder when he saw a figure standing by the barrier. There was no mistaking Gabe even from this distance. Dan quietly but openly strode towards him.

Leaning on the barrier, he said “I don’t recall authorising any sight seeing trips Gabe.”

In a voice devoid of emotion, the big man replied “If you had, the weather would have been better.”

“For God’s sake this is not a joke Gabe. What the hell’s got into you?”

Looking about him as casually as possible, Dan saw a CCTV camera some twenty metres away but it was mainly shrouded by the curling tendrils of fog. Other pedestrians, few as they were, seemed in no mind to take notice of them.

“Does it matter?”

“What?” For a moment Dan had been distracted as he attempted to find a way to defuse the situation without attracting undue attention.

“Does it really matter?”

“You really need to ask that after all these years man?” Dan was starting to feel angry and had to hold himself back from shaking some sense into Gabe.

“Let me ask you something Dan, you ever had a secret? A really dark, personal secret?”

Dan felt a sense of foreboding when he heard those words. He’d believed that in all their years of service and friendship, there was nothing that Gabe would have kept hidden from him. It seemed he might have been wrong.

“Look, let’s discuss this back at the runabout Gabe. We’re on thin ice here.”

When Gabe at last turned to face him, Dan saw the tears in his eyes and the bleak, desperate expression on his face.

“Seriously Dan. Something you never told me about?”

“Honestly Gabe there’s nothing so…”

“Because I have.” It was as if his friend was asking questions to which he didn’t expect answers. “Something that I should have told you of all people.”

“And we have to discuss it here?”

“To be honest I was hoping that you’d have used common sense and not followed me. Here’s as good a place as anywhere though.” He looked out to the East where San Francisco lay wrapped and muffled in the shrouds of fog. “Actually here’s the best place funnily enough.”

Dan faced a real dilemma. If they stayed here long enough to discuss whatever it was that had so disturbed Gabe, there was the chance that they would be approached or questioned, especially under the wartime climate. On the other hand, it might be the only way he could get Gabe back to the runabout without making a public transportation.

“If we discuss this now, will you come back with me?”

For a moment Gabe seemed unsteady on his feet. “Back? What to the runabout or to the 24th?”

Dan was about to answer but Gabe cut him off. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s walk.”

Without waiting Gabe turned away, his hands buried deep in the pockets of the long dark overcoat he wore. Taking a deep breath, Dan followed.


CHOOBAR
CASPIAN SEA COAST
NORTHERN IRAN
EARTH
3rd February 2026 – 1952 IRST (1622 UTC)


The mercenary group had entered Iran by way of the Caspian Sea, although naturally they hadn’t arrived legally. Whilst the Caspian was landlocked, it had been easy enough to hire one of the hundreds of fishing boats that plied the choppy waters of the Caspian in search of kilka, small fish the size of anchovies.

With a safe contact in country, they had legitimately purchased a farmhouse on the coast of Iran where the contact and his family now lived. The fact that it also had enough outbuildings to serve as a base of operations for seven foreign mercenaries was obviously a closely guarded secret.

The mercenaries knew that their sponsor was a man with money and few scruples but then that was all they needed to know. Their job was to foment unrest by supplying weapons and explosives to the anti-government militants in this northern part of Iran and up until now there had been no issue in finding willing freedom fighters in the oppressed population. Then something odd had occurred which was the reason for the group leader’s satellite phone call to his sponsor this cool February evening.

He let the phone ring three times before hanging up and dialling again exactly five minutes later. It seemed a strange game to Mackenzie but as long as he was getting paid as handsomely as he was, he was quite happy to indulge his sponsor in any way he wished.

This time the phone was answered on the third ring and a quiet voice said “Speak.”

“Boss, we’ve got something odd going on at the site.”

There was a brief silence before the man said “Define odd.”

Mackenzie marshalled his thoughts and wondered belatedly if he might be over-reacting.

“Seems like there’s somebody else in exactly the same business as us in the area. It’s an external company but it’s not affecting trade.” If anything its making life much easier he thought wryly.

“Presumably we don’t know the identity of our competitor?”

“Not yet but we’re working on it.”

Again there was a short silence before his sponsor answered. “Let them take the strain for now and marshal our resources. We’ll say thank you if we get the chance. Keep me updated.”

Before Mackenzie had a chance to reply, the disconnect tone sounded. The sponsor had always been a man of few words so he didn’t take it personally. As long as his account was credited, he didn’t care too much.

Walking back inside the barn he grinned at the other six who were gathered playing cards in the corner.

“Good news boys, looks like we get a night off courtesy of the boss. New game plan starts tomorrow.”

Mackenzie knew they’d be pleased because this was a dangerous game they were playing. He just hoped the new client on the block didn’t make it even more so.
 
Chapter 25 (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 25 (cont)


JOHNSON SPACE CENTRE
NASA FORWARD OPERATING LOCATION
EL PASO
TEXAS, USA
EARTH
3rd February 2026 – 0930 MST (1630 UTC)

After a hot coffee and fresh pastries as promised, the AsCans had been driven back to one of the large hangars. Ushered inside they found the usual spotless NASA work environment that they had become used to, despite the fact that the air smelt of lubricants and jet fuel.

In one corner sat a T-55 undergoing what appeared to be a major overhaul and to its left was one of the NASA Eurocopter SA 365 Dauphins that were used as personnel transports.

Pride of place in the brightly lit cavernous hangar went, however, to the four modified Gulfstream G650s, pristine and obviously pampered in their NASA livery.

“So, ladies and gentlemen, there they are. Beauties even when they’re sitting still.” Bell was effusive over the aircraft and obviously had a soft spot for them. “While your mission specialists are tucked away in the VR suite learning how to manoeuvre themselves around space, you lucky boys and girls will be splitting your time between textbooks and cockpits.”

He led them over to the nearest aircraft and lovingly ran a hand down the blue cheat line on the fuselage side. “Every Swift Commander will practice at least 1000 landings in this aircraft, as will each mission's Swift Pilot. Think you’re up to it?”

Even Marker seemed impressed by the sleek business jet and reached up to touch the wing leading edge.

“Ah ah Zombie, she’s not yours yet,” Bell admonished with a smile and Marker snatched his hand back like a naughty schoolboy. “Today you’ll get a half hour flight just to demonstrate what we’ll be expecting of you but trust me, before you get your hands on these ladies you’ll be putting in some serious simulator time. Follow me please.”

Mitch shook his head as he followed Marker towards the briefing room.

“You sure know how to win friends and influence people don’t you?”

“Hey it’s a talent y’know?”

Bell directed the AsCans to seats paired in their MACO team groupings. Mitch sat beside Colonel Valentina Kornukov, MACO 1’s designated pilot. Marker was paired with Squadron Leader Sarah Halley and finally Gretchen Schmidt sat alongside Major Thomas Trip.

“From now on AsCans, I want you to report to briefings in these pairs when possible. Your aim from here on in is to get to know your pilot or commander…” Bell paused and grinned. “I was going to use the term intimately before I remembered Colonel Zombie.”

“Oh he doesn’t seem such a dog when you get to know him Adam,” replied Sarah Halley with a wide smile. “Still needs to be kept on a leash from time to time though.”

“Oh ha ha people.” Marker held his hands up in mock surrender. “You wait till the next one gets a nickname, its payback time.”

Bell allowed the room to settle before he continued, realising that these people were on the verge of forming professional relationships that would last a lifetime. He was pleased to see how easily they seemed to gel.

“Speaking of nicknames, in a sense, from hereon your allocated callsigns are as follows: Colonel Mitchell, Alpha Charlie One. Colonel Kornukov, you’re Alpha Two. Colonel Marker, Bravo Charlie One. Squadron Leader Halley is Bravo Two. Colonel Schmidt is Charlie Charlie One and finally Major Trip, you are hereby Charlie Two.”

Bell passed out cloth patches to each team member. As Mitch picked it up he smiled at the imagery. Inside a red bordered black triangle was a cartoon representation of a shark bearing its teeth; MACO was emblazoned boldly below it and attached to the bottom were their embroidered callsigns.

“Now just before I hit the brief, I need you to understand something.” Bell sat astride a chair and faced the group. “I’ve worked with the military before but only with individuals, not units. It’s a whole new world to me people just as this is to you.” He indicated the hangar around them. “We’re going to have to help each other on that score ok?”

“Does that mean we get to give you a nickname too?” asked Marker, the picture of innocence.

“Too late Zombie, I got mine a few years ago.” He didn’t reveal what the nickname was however, only piquing Marker’s interest. “If we ever get to make a pilot of you, I might divulge it.”

Bestowing a wicked grin on Marker, he stood and turned on the main screen.

“Time then to find out what the STA is all about people. Right after this, we’ll do lunch and get you airborne for a demonstration flight.”

Bell could see by the approving nods that he’d got a keen set of candidates and felt that as his final class, they’d work out just fine.



EXTRACTS FROM TRAINING BRIEF NASA/STA 1-AA2



“The Swift Training Aircraft’ or STA, is a NASA training vehicle that duplicates the Swift RLV's approach profile and handling qualities, allowing Swift pilots to simulate landings under controlled conditions before attempting the task on board the RLV itself.”

“The aircraft's exterior has been modified to withstand the high aerodynamic forces incurred during training sorties. A redesigned cockpit provides a high-fidelity simulation of the Swift's controls and pilot vantage point; even the seats are fitted in the same position as those in the Swift.”

“The STA is particularly critical for Swift pilots in training because although the RLV is fitted with aerospike engines, these are only used at launch. During the return and landing phase, these engines are not available to provide the power that would allow the craft to "go around" after a poor approach. After re-entry, the Swift becomes a very heavy glider (it is sometimes referred to as a 'flying brick'), and as such has only one chance to land.”

“In order to match the descent rate and drag profile of the real Swift at 37,000 feet, the main landing gear is lowered (the nose gear stays retracted due to wind load constraints) and engine thrust is reversed. Its flaps may deflect upwards to decrease lift as well as downwards to increase lift.”

“Covers are placed on the left hand cockpit windows to provide the same view as from a Swift cockpit, and the left-hand pilot's seat is fitted with the same controls as a Swift. The STA's normal flight controls are moved to the right, where the instructor sits. Both seat positions have a Heads Up Display, or HUD.”

“During normal mission operations the commander's side of the cockpit would be on the left, but due to the specialist nature of the MACO missions the commander now occupies the right hand seat and the mission pilot the left. In the STA, the trainee pilot's side of the cockpit features a Swift-type HUD, a rotational hand controller, or RHC which is used to fly the vehicle, and multi-function displays. The instructor pilot, who occupies the right-hand side of the STA cockpit, has access to a similar heads-up display, as well as conventional aircraft controls and instruments.”

“A sophisticated computer system installed on board the STA simulates the flight dynamics of the RLV with nearly perfect accuracy. The STA's highly realistic simulation of the Swift is not limited to handling characteristics, but also implements the shuttle control interfaces for the pilot.”



THE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE
SAN FRANCISCO,
CALIFORNIA, USA
EARTH
26th April 2053 – 0809 PST (11609 UTC)

“I wish I’d told you before Dan but…it…” Gabe shrugged in the chill of the wind blowing in from the Bay and Dan was sure there had been a suppressed sob in his voice before it trailed off to silence.

“C’mon Gabe. Whatever it is, we’ve been through enough together for you to trust me.”

The big man shook his head. “It’s not about my trust in you Dan. It’s about shame, my shame.”

Placing a hand on Gabe’s arm, Dan stopped him. “So tell me.”

Suddenly, the man that Dan had called his friend for twenty years seemed to physically shrink as if the weight of this secret was compressing him.

“It’s about Marina’s death Dan.”

Seeing how much this was taking out of Gabe, Dan guided him by the arm to the four foot barrier at the edge of the pedestrian walkway. Out in the distance, the forlorn sound of a foghorn seemed to add to the melancholy.

Gabe had barely spoken about his wife’s death 15 years previously and Dan had never pried. He only knew that she had been killed in a vehicle accident with their two daughters and beyond that, nothing.

For several moments, Gabe remained silent and motionless, his back leaning against the barrier but at last he drew himself up straight and faced Dan.

“She’s not dead. Not in the physical sense Dan.”

“What?” Of all the things that Gabe might have told him, Dan hadn’t expected that. “But…you…”

“I know, I know.” Tears were clearly running down Gabe’s stricken face and he made no move to wipe them away. “The twins died at the scene but Marina had been thrown clear. Nothing but scratches and bruises.”

Dan was dumbfounded. “I…I don’t understand.”

“Neither did I. By the time I got to speak to her in the hospital, the doctor told me it was too late.”

“Whoa, slow down. Too late?” Dan wasn’t following this at all and was becoming seriously worried about his friend’s state of mind. “You said she was unhurt.”

Gabe stared unseeing over the barrier at the invisible waters of the Golden Gate Straight over 200 feet below. “Her mind was gone Dan. Totally gone.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but each word was so filled with bitterness and resentment, Dan heard them as if he’d shouted them. “Remember that year we spent in Cardassian space?”

In fact Dan remembered it all too clearly. As part of a covert SpecOps mission they had been inserted into Cardassian territory to monitor build-ups of Cardassian ships and bases around Trelka. That had been the year leading up to Marina’s accident; in fact Gabe had barely returned back from the mission when it happened.

“While we were away, Marina apparently was invited several times to Admiral Minshall’s house by his wife.” There was an edge of anger in Gabe’s voice now. “She used to hold exclusive dinner parties. Well it turns out that Marina acquired a habit at these parties.”

Dan’s concern turned to shock. “Drugs?”

“Only the best Dan.” Gabe laughed humourlessly at the thought. “She was an Admiral’s wife after all. Trouble is that Marina couldn’t handle it and ended up looking for it on the street.” He gripped the top of the barrier with such force, it seemed to Dan that he was in danger of bending it. “But the street level stuff…”

And suddenly Dan understood. It was obvious that Minshall’s wife had the money and the contacts to buy the pure stuff, but out in the side streets of Detroit God only knew what it was cut with.

“They say she was so slammed she probably didn’t even know the kids were in the car. She was still alive Dan but she was gone. So were my kids. And you know what? I never went back to visit her. Never. I just couldn’t forgive her.”

Gabe slammed his fist down hard on the steel barrier and Dan was certain he heard bones break but his friend didn’t even notice.

“It was only after the whole parasite mind control thing that I realised just what kind of hell she’d been through." As he spoke he unconciously rubbed at the back of his neck where the parasite had lived and, eventually, died. "A tiny, sane remnant of your mind screaming out for help but nobody hearing.” Gabe shuddered and Dan knew it wasn’t because of the Bay chill. “How could I have turned my back on her Dan?”

Dan was lost for words. For 15 years, his best friend had harboured this and not once had he suspected.

“Did you know,” he said, finally wiping away the tears, “Minshall was posted to a desk job in the boondocks to protect his precious wife and his career? She underwent voluntary rehab for her sins.”

Dan’s attention was suddenly drawn to the carriageway as an SFPD cruiser drew to the kerb, its lights strobing and its driver eyeing them suspiciously. As the window slid down, Dan shook Gabe but his friend wasn’t responding.

“Everything alright there Sir?”

Dan approached the cruiser thinking furiously and a memory from just before he’d beamed out of the Blackwell flashed into his mind.

“I’m sorry officer. My friend and I were both home on shore leave when he heard about Diego Garcia.” Dan recalled Homer whistling in disbelief when he’d heard the broadcast about the cruise missile attack on the base just before his departure. “His sister was there officer.”

“Tough break son,” the police officer said with feeling. “Take care of him; we’re all losing somebody close these days.” When he removed his cap again, Dan breathed a silent sigh of relief. He nodded to the officer who slid the vehicle into drive and pulled back out into the traffic. Hurrying back to Gabe’s side, he took his arm gently and guided him towards the south end of the bridge. He felt no resistance now.

“We’ll deal with this Gabe, I promise. Let’s just get home ok?”

Gabe said nothing, his face blank and his eyes appearing to see little. Arriving back at the quiet spot where he’d initially arrived in the Presidio, he tapped the concealed comm badge and requested two to be beamed back to the Blackwell. Dan held Gabe close waiting for the transporter to take them and he wondered if there really could be a good end to this. As the sparkles of dematerialisation obscured his last view of the Golden Gate Bridge, he found himself doubting it.
 
Chapter 26

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter 26


TANGO CONTROL
KARNI BORDER CROSSING
SOUTH EAST OF GAZA CITY
GAZA
EARTH
3rd February 2026 – 1845 IST (1645 UTC)

Askwith’s brief on Gaza when he took on the responsibility of ground commander for the convoys had been an eye opener. While he’d known that the situation in Gaza was not good, the facts and figures provided by the UN were depressing. Approximately 80% of Gazans were dependent on some kind of humanitarian aid and the economy was at a virtual standstill. Water and electricity cuts were frequent, and sporadic petrol and diesel shortages caused major problems across the strip.

As well as the militants of the ruling Hamas party, Islamic Jihad and the Popular Resistance Committee had a strong presence in Gaza with rumours that splinter factions formed and fell apart at regular intervals making the security situation on the ground difficult to follow. The UN had continually warned that Gaza's hospitals were short of equipment and medicines and people were dying as they waited for permission to be treated elsewhere; and all this had been before the Iranian strike.

It was understandable then that the situation would reach a head at some stage. Askwith was surprised that it had taken this long to be honest, though from what he had gleaned from his latest brief, the population had been manipulated and lied to by the militant factions for a long time.

His orders now were to remain in the fortified staging area by the Karni crossing point and arrange secure distribution of the aid at that point. Under no circumstances was he to enter any of the refugee camps or towns. Buses were being provided for parties of refugees to travel out to the staging area for the distribution.

“Fat lot of good it’s likely to do.” The voice that had broken his chain of thought belonged to Jansen DeVos, a big bluff Dutch man who worked for UNWRA. Beside him at the dinner table sat Riya Kapoor, another UNWRA member and Lieutenant Henri Benoit, part of Askwith’s UN force.

“So what do you suggest?” replied Kapoor hotly. “We push into the refugee camps armed to the teeth and then wait for a suicide bomber to finish the job?”

DeVos looked at her without hostility, but obviously wasn’t about to be swayed. “Riya, what’s to stop them doing that here? We have nobody at the departure point to check individuals getting on the buses.” He sighed, obviously depressed at the thought that they were in a catch 22 situation.

Kapoor looked to Askwith for support, and he had to admit he thought that their current operational plan was the better of the two.

“Look Fox, I know this slows things down but at least here we’re pretty much protected from rocket propelled grenades and snipers.” DeVos shrugged accepting Askwith’s point. “If we can get a secure checkpoint away from the stockade where the refugees can be sniffed for explosives…”

“Then the bomber will likely set their package off on the bus.”

Askwith didn’t have a counter argument to that because history had shown that suicide bombers weren’t the sanest of people.

“The people we’re trying to help will be processed and recorded here Fox. If nothing else, we’ll be getting a picture of whom and what we’re dealing with.”

DeVos lowered his voice slightly as he leaned in towards Askwith.

“Have the authorities made any decision yet as to how you will respond to the news brought by the Doctor?”

Askwith pushed away the curry he’d been eating feeling his appetite wane.

“Not yet, though the decision to remain out of the camps and towns must be at least partly based on it. Unless we receive further reinforcements, there’s no way we could conduct safe urban operations.”

Kapoor nodded, feeling her earlier point to DeVos had been made.

“Well it seems there’s little point debating ifs and buts while the ground situation is so precarious.” She collected the empty plates and stood. “For now, it seems, we will just have to do the best we can.”

As Kapoor left, DeVos looked at Askwith. “Might be an idea to sort out that secure point sooner rather than later though Colonel.”

DeVos excused himself and Benoit and Askwith were the only two people left at the table. The young lieutenant turned to his commanding officer with a serious expression. “What if things turn hot before the reinforcements arrive Colonel?”

Askwith stood, a troubled expression on his face.

“Let’s hope they don’t because in that case I suspect we’re in for a world full of hurt Lieutenant.”


USS ANGEL
EN-ROUTE TO ARGOLIS SECTOR
UFP SPACE
September 17th 2371 – 1243 FST

It had taken Angel an hour and a half to arrive back at the temporal anomaly following the departure of the SCE team and, in that time, Kat had updated Starfleet on their status. Given a clean bill of health by the Von Braun detachment of engineers, Angel was ready to resume the convoy escort to Cestus III that had almost ended in disaster.

Following the compromising of ship codes, Starfleet had distributed a Code Red Alpha to all ships stating that override codes were to be changed immediately to war time settings. These were codes that nobody had access to other than the upper echelon of the Admiralty and would serve as a stopgap measure to prevent a repeat instance of the Orion affair. Naturally, Starfleet were still investigating how much and what type of other information the deceased Senator may have passed on. As a Federation Defence Minister, the latter seemed more important than the former.

It had also been confirmed that Starfleet required Chariscarpia to remain at the anomaly with the artefact aboard the USS Bearcat. Mudd would stay there as well, remaining sedated until his passage back to his own time.

“Are you satisfied that the artefact is…” Kat waved her hands in confusion, trying to find the right words.

“The artefact,” replied Chariscarpia, ending Kat’s embarrassment, “is aware of the situation as much as an AI can be. It knows that as soon as the time stream has been repaired, it will be returned to its place of origin. That is its only real concern.”

As the two women made their way down towards Angel’s cargo transporter room, Kat still had one question that she had been pondering over almost since the Blackwell had been drawn into the anomaly.

“Has the artefact specified how it will know when to make the exchange?”

Chariscarpia shook her head. “It doesn’t really communicate things in that fashion Captain. Much of its terminology is quite arcane based around temporal principles I could never hope to understand.”

They entered the open cargo transporter area and saw that the artefact was already waiting on the staging area accompanied by Emil Vaslovik as Chariscarpia continued speaking.

“Its reply has always been that the time will be evident and it will know when to act.”

Kat faced the android and placed her hands on Chariscarpia’s shoulders.

“It’ll be strange not having you around, but good luck. Have you decided what you’ll do when your task is complete here?”

Kat knew that Starfleet wished to speak with Chariscarpia on a first contact basis. The fact that the remains of her vessel contained a complete DNA library from her now perished homeworld was a major element of that discussion.

“I do not know Captain, but I suddenly find that inhabiting this new body, time is not quite so pressing as it once was.” She smiled serenely. “I believe that I would like to rejoin your ship sooner rather than later however. I have made many friends here.”

Kat took her in a farewell hug. “Well there’ll always be a berth for you Chariscarpia. Stay in touch.”

Kat remained to watch as Chariscarpia joined Emil Vaslovik and the artefact before shimmering out of existence with a small wave on their way to the Bearcat. Mudd had already been transferred and his ship was being safely cared for on the Bearcat’s main hangar deck. All Kat could do now was pray that Dan’s return was a safe one.

As she left the cargo area, her commbadge chirped and she tapped it abstractedly.

“Gray, go ahead.”

“Captain, the replacement crew have arrived and I have Governor Bacco requesting to beam aboard for a meeting.”

Kat smiled feeling that the return to routine would provide a relief to her crew and began making her way to the bridge.

“Thank you T’Sell. Please arrange for the Governor to be escorted to the main briefing room and notify heads of departments please.”

“Aye Captain.”

Hurry home Dan, she thought. There’s a ship here waiting for its Captain.


USS BLACKWELL
LAKE KHOVSGOL
NORTHERN MONGOLIA
EARTH
27th April 2053 – 0142 UBT (26th April 2053 - 1742 UTC)


At that particular moment, (at least in a manner of speaking), the Angel’s real Captain was sitting beside a biobed in the medical compartment of the Blackwell. Misaki busied herself tidying away medical equipment and tricorders as Gabe relaxed under her ministrations.

“I’ve been a royal pain in the ass haven’t I?”

Despite the circumstances Dan couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t sell yourself short big man. You’ve been much worse than that.”

Gabe grinned as the sedation began to take effect. “You need to work on that bedside manner a little.”

Dan placed a hand on Gabe’s arm then quietly spoke to Misaki before retaking his seat. As the young medical ensign discretely left the sickbay, Dan turned his attention back to Gabe Martello.

“I’m assuming that Starfleet knew the exact circumstances of Marina’s death.”

Gabe nodded slowly. “As much as could be known. It was only circumstantial evidence against the Admiral’s wife but the way I see it his voluntary re-assignment damned her just as easily as a courtroom.”

In the silence of the sickbay, Dan’s heart went out to his friend. He had no idea how he would have reacted if their situation had been reversed, but he knew that bearing such a secret and the dark guilt of turning his back on his wife must have eaten away at Gabe’s soul. Add to that the stress and horror of the parasite infestation followed by the depression of impotently watching humanity tear its self apart, and Dan could begin to understand how Gabe had at last began to unravel.

“So why the Golden Gate Bridge?”

A bittersweet smile came to Gabe’s lips as he closed his eyes in remembrance. “It was where I first met her Dan. It…” The sigh he let out seemed to have been dredged from the depth of his darkness. “It just seemed like the only place I could go.” He opened his eyes again to look at Dan as fifteen years of pain weighed him down. “I’m so sorry.”

Dan’s four years at Starfleet’s training campus had broadened both his world view and his appreciation of the written word and provided him now with perhaps the perfect window to Gabe’s misery. His mind travelled back twenty odd years to the first time he had read Dostoyevsky’s ‘Crime and Punishment’ at the Academy.

"If he has a conscience he will suffer for his mistake. That will be punishment - as well as the prison."

Noticing that Gabe’s eyes had at last closed in sleep, Dan stood quietly. “It’s me that should be sorry Gabe. I’m supposed to be your friend.”

As he dimmed the lights and left the sickbay, his heart was heavier than he could ever recall it being before. Sadness for Gabe’s suffering clashed with the guilt of letting his friend down and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. He almost bumped into Misaki as she was making her way back towards sickbay from the cockpit.

“How is Captain Martello Sir?” she asked quietly.

“Sleeping, for now thank you. Did you discover any resurgence of neural damage when you examined him?”

“From the infestation?” She shook her head. “No Sir. However he has serious chemical imbalances that would have contributed to his current mental state. Prolonged periods of stress can deplete serotonin levels, which Captain Martello is suffering from, and I also noticed that, amongst others, his levels of tryptophan and melatonin were also excessively low.”

“In English, that would mean…?” He smiled to remove any sense of rebuke from the question.

“My apologies Sir. In brief, Captain Martello would likely have been suffering from severe insomnia and deep depression which would have been exacerbated by our current circumstances.” Misaki looked crestfallen. “Under the circumstances Captain, I should have noticed the signs.”

“Under the circumstances Ensign,” Dan injected a little authority into his voice, “you have acted with immense professionalism under the circumstances we’ve found ourselves in.” His tone softened. “Don’t beat yourself up Misaki.” I’ll be doing enough of that for the both of us he added to himself.

“Thank you Sir,” she smiled tiredly. “I’ll make sure that Captain Martello is comfortable.”

He nodded his thanks and once she was out of sight leaned resignedly against the bulkhead. He suddenly felt as old as Methuselah without any of the associated wisdom age should bring. He felt wretched at the thought, but suddenly found himself wishing that World War III would just hurry up and start.
 
Chapter 26 (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 26 (cont)


YANGLIUQING SECURITY BUNKER
XIQING DISTRICT
TIANJIN
CHINA
EARTH
4th February 2026 – 0809 China Standard Time (0009 UTC)


“I still cannot believe that my brother, of all people, would contemplate the mere presence of Chabalowski much less revive his work.”

Burke looked at Chimera’s decidedly tired face with concern. As his personal physician, she knew that now was a crucial time in his treatment and to overextend himself like this did not bode well for their success.

“Chimera, I’m only going to say this once because I know it’s something you don’t want to hear but the gene sequencing we’re doing will require you to rest extensively for at least a week after each session.” She held her hands up as she saw his face become heated. “Gnash your teeth all you like, but it was you that told me that my number one priority was making sure you were healthy enough to see this through to the end.”

His posture relaxed and he rubbed at his face distractedly. “I apologise Charlotte. I know how seriously you take your work and I fully appreciate all that you have done for me.” He slumped back in his chair. “I find myself caught on the horns of a dilemma. Long term plans to raise China to its former glory require my health which, by default, requires treatment, patience and solitude.” He pointed to the screen which held data on Chabalowski and his ‘work’. “This…abomination, however…if he is not dealt with in time it makes my long term goals irrelevant.”

The anger was back in his voice now, directed this time at the image on the screen. It showed a non-descript middle aged man, balding and tending towards corpulence. One could pass him on the street and never realise that he was one of the most reviled medical practitioners of Khan’s reign. He had masterminded experiments on humans that defied description, all in the name of genetic supremacy and as Chimera had pointed out, he had to be dealt with.

Burke sat down across the table from Chimera and gently took his hand.

“There is a whole nation, perhaps even a whole world, that depends on you Chimera. Without you, Juan would become an easy target for the next would be Huo or Khan. China would crumble, the ECoN would implode without your hand at the wheel, and I’m not saying this to inflate your ego.”

He waited silently, knowing that she had a point to make and trusting in her honesty.

“You have around you a team of people equally committed to your goals. They’re not charlatans or sycophants, they genuinely believe in your dreams. Now if you were the sort of person who would employ this Chabalowski, I’d say to hell with it and let you rot because I would want no part of it.” She looked at him sincerely, hoping to break through the stubborn walls of isolation he was building around himself. “You’re not though. You’re neither self serving nor flawless. Trust the people you have gathered to do the work you employed them for.”

With a small smile on her face, she stood and watched as he considered her words. At last he sighed and gave a small, if weary, smile of his own.

“There are times, Charlotte, when I wish I was an evil dictator with powers of voodoo because I would most certainly stick pins in your effigy.”

“So am I to take that as ‘Yes you’re right as usual doctor and I will delegate as I have been told’?”

He folded his arms and gave a mock subservient bow. “Let’s not get carried away. I will speak with both Juan and Mingli and then I will make a decision.”

“Then my work here is done.” The smile left her face as she studied him intently. “Just remember that we need to commence your treatment soon, very soon.”

He nodded in acceptance and she turned to leave.

“Charlotte?”

Looking back over her shoulder, for a moment she saw a look of gratitude on his face.

“Thank you.”


TANGO CONTROL
KARNI BORDER CROSSING
SOUTH EAST OF GAZA CITY
GAZA
EARTH
4th February 2026 – 1112 IST (0912 UTC)

The encrypted digital link was crystal clear now that the US had repositioned one of their military communication satellites over the region, but Askwith wasn’t at all happy with what he was hearing.

Major General Hervé Lefèvre had been in contact with the United Nations most of the morning trying to ascertain what the UN forces on the ground were now expected to do with the unexpected threat of civil war on the horizon. Naturally, as had been the case for some time now, the UN were unhappy to authorize anything without a full meeting of the Security Council and Askwith was left with the ambiguous instruction to “work with the UNWRA staff to distribute the supplies in as safe a manner as possible until such time as the Security Council can agree a fresh mandate.”

“It means nothing Sir. All they’re saying is carry on as usual, and we simply can’t do that.”

Lefèvre sighed, his own frustration evident over the link. “Trust me Colonel, you are preaching to the converted, but I must stress that we cannot proceed any further into Gaza without implicit instructions.”

“Then can you confirm my rules of engagement Sir?”

“They remain unchanged Colonel. If your troops or the UN staff under your protection comes under fire, then you are sanctioned to return fire without giving pursuit.”

Askwith considered the situation carefully before asking the next question. “I assume that defence of Tango Control and the immediate area is still at my discretion?”

He heard a slight pause as Lefèvre thought about the disposition of forces in the area. “The exact wording of my orders states that no troops or UN personnel are to proceed any further into Gaza. As long as your operations do not transgress those orders Colonel, I believe there will be no problems.”

Convinced he heard the semblance of a smile in Lefèvre’s voice, Askwith deduced that his commander had interpreted the question correctly.

“Understood Sir. Askwith out.”

He turned to his subordinate, Captain Angela Bowman, and beckoned her to join him in a quiet corner of the operations room.

“Angela, I want you to do me a favour,” he said quietly. “How many Mayflys do we have with the convoy?”

Bowman totted up the numbers in her head before replying “Sixteen altogether Sir.”

“Right,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “You know the four that we’ve been having trouble with?”

“Sir?” When Bowman saw his look, she suddenly realised where the conversation was going. “Oh, those four, yes Sir. Real problem they’ve been. I was going to ask supply when we could get a fresh set of four to replace them.”

“Good, because I happen to know that there are eight crated up and awaiting use at Ben Gurion International Airport and they’re doing sod all good there.”

Bowman entered a series of shorthand notes on her data slate and nodded.

“Oh and ask Sergeant Carlisle to come in and see me at his earliest convenience please.”

“On it Sir.”

Alright, let’s see how we can stack the deck in our favour for a change he thought to himself as he studied the map of Gaza City.


CIA HEADQUARTERS
LANGLEY VA, USA
EARTH
4th February 2026 – 0730 EST (1230 UTC)


“You know I really hate you sometimes.”

Collins turned, slightly surprised at the whispered comment from Baxter.

“Why? What have I done now?”

He pointed at the bottle of spring water that sat on the table in front of her.

“It’s stupid o’clock, not a drop of caffeine has passed your lips and you still look fresh enough to run a marathon,” he grinned. “You’re making me look bad. So I really hate you.”

Collins chuckled as she studied his somewhat bloodshot eyes. “If you’re looking for sympathy you asked the wrong agent. Next time, don’t get into a tequila slinging match with a psycho CIA agent.”

“Martinez isn’t psycho.” Collins raised her eyebrows and Baxter surrendered. “Ok, maybe slightly.”

Their conversation ceased as the door opened and the subject of their conversation entered with her CIA partner Marty Harrison.

“Oh John,” she laughed, “You look like crap!”

Harrison shook his head as he took a seat at the table. It seemed to be an expression of long-suffering. “You’ll have to forgive my partner John. She suckers everybody with that “Oh my, tequila’s so strong” act.”

Baxter chuckled at Harrison’s impression which had earned him an elbow from Martinez. “So, any idea what all this might be about?” He looked inquiringly at both CIA agents but received shrugs in response.

“Could be though,” said Harrison at last, “they’ve bought some first class tickets to a warm and slightly sandy part of the world for…”

As one, all eyes swivelled to the door when Janet Keller, the head of NCS, entered.

“Don’t stop on my account Agent Harrison.” She stood and watched him, arms folded, as the door slowly closed behind her.

Harrison wisely didn’t say any more and was rewarded with a nod from Keller.

“Good. First smarty point goes to Agent Harrison.”

Laying a data slate on the table, she slipped off her jacket and hung it on the back of one of the swivel chairs.

“Actually, first two smarty points, because as it happens he’s partially correct. The powers that be have decided that this is a priority situation that has the potential to threaten not just national security but global security.”

She turned when she heard a barely audible comment from Baxter.

“A little louder please Agent Baxter?”

He sat up straight in the chair, not even realising he’d spoken out loud.

“They believe that there are more of them out there don’t they?”

Keller appraised him for just a moment. “What do you think John?”

It was the first time she’d addressed him by his first name and it threw him slightly. “I…well to be honest an operation of this magnitude would be a waste with just one subject.”

“Good answer.” She flicked on the wall screen where the CCTV images taken at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport were displayed. Of the five faces, three had red crosses through them. “The five terrorists who killed and replaced the baggage handlers at the airport. Sadly, three of them decided to go out like Bonnie and Clyde and one is still loose.” She zoomed in on the fifth face. Caucasian with a shaved head, he looked like a typical street thug but Baxter recognised him immediately.

“The guy with the tattoo?”

“The one and only,” Keller nodded with what Baxter thought was a feral grin, “And we have him!”
 
Chapter 27

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.



Chapter 27


BRACK INTERNATIONAL TECHNOLOGIES
CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS
HOUSTON
TEXAS, USA
EARTH
4th February 2026 – 0647 CST (1247 UTC)

The large office looked like a bomb had exploded in a stationery retail outlet. Data slates were being inelegantly used as hi-tech paperweights holding down broad sheets of blueprints. Styrofoam coffee cups stood precariously on table edges and a quiet air of determination suffused the room.

Staff at B.I.T. had worked around the clock both here and in the R&D department after Micah Brack had dropped the technological equivalent of a depth charge.

He had quietly suggested that the tweaking of certain equations accompanied by slight adjustments to the technology they were working on for the Ares mission could possibly increase the overall output of the ion drive.

Micah Brack’s suggestions were never taken lightly and almost overnight, the staff realised that their second generation ion drive had likely just become third generation. The computer simulations with the initial adjustment figures showed that output was increased by a minimum of 50% but it was likely to be even higher once the data had been refined further.

More thrust meant higher achievable speeds and payloads, exactly what they required for the time-critical asteroid mission. It seemed highly likely, according to inside sources, that the B.I.T. submission would be accepted on Capitol Hill. That being the case, it would be a worldwide effort based on their technology.

Ion engines for interplanetary robotic flights had become commonplace because of their unique and efficient operation. Instead of burning chemical fuels, ion engines were electrically charged and worked by ejecting positive ions from the back of the spacecraft, propelling it forward. Though the thrust was tiny, the ion engine proved its worth, allowing the fuel to last far longer than in conventional rockets. First generation ion powered spacecraft could gradually accelerate to extremely high speeds of 35,000 km per hour or more.
Brack’s ‘tweak’ had just upped the ante.

The project had also gained a name through the most unlikely of events. A brief break for more coffee had eventually evolved into a conversation about the asteroid’s name, Mjölnir. When it had at last been disseminated to all those present that this was the name of Thor’s hammer, somebody had spotted the flaw in naming the asteroid.

“I thought Thor’s hammer was supposed to be unstoppable?”

“Boy, you don’t read comics do you?” a second voice laughed. “Juggernaut stopped it!”

There was a general round of chuckles from those in the know.

“Besides,” quipped a third voice “we don’t wanna stop it, we wanna drive that sucker round the sky!”

There was a brief silence as the assembled engineers, designers and technicians digested this. Finally, the first voice spoke again.

“Well boys, if that's what we're aiming for, looks like we’re just gonna have to reinvent Thor.”


UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
EARTH
4th February 2026 – (1300 UTC)

As Flint waited for the secure link to Rayna, he wondered whether there might not be an easier way to establish contact with the computer. Technologically speaking, if it could be achieved then Flint was the man who could do it.

He smiled as he remembered his design for a helicopter in the 15th century. As Leonardo Da Vinci, he had committed the design to paper more on a whim than to physically construct it. Rather than the rotor blades or ducted fans of modern designs, his was based on what he called the helical air screw. It was certainly elegant in appearance though functionally it wasn’t quite as practical.

Good job I invented the parachute as well he smiled to himself.

A slight change in audio tone brought him back to the present as Rayna greeted him.

“Good morning Rayna. I know I’m slightly early but I have a busy schedule today and wanted an update before I begin.”

There was an infinitesimal pause before Rayna replied, “The file has been transmitted. Only two items stand out as noteworthy at this time.”

Taking a seat in front of his monitor, he felt the buzz of his favourite Kenya coffee begin to work its magic.

“Number one is the new Russian Premier, Yevgenii Sagalevich.”

Flint knew of him as he knew of the other front runners in the Russian Premier battle but as yet hadn’t researched him as deeply as he would have liked. He was aware that the man’s political career stretched back as far as the 20th century’s cold war but knew little of any consequence beyond that.

“Are there concerns?”

“Possibly. I have several deep scan worm programs that have uncovered what appear to be discrepancies in the official files. I have to stress they are not indicators of any concrete concern but I am conducting further investigations.”

Flint mentally evaluated that piece of information. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union it was feasible that records may have become fragmentary as governmental departments amalgamated or disappeared altogether. Besides, it seemed to him that most politicians invariably had at least one skeleton in their closet and that came from several lifetimes of personal experience.

However, with a country as large and as powerful as Russia, it would not be wise to ignore any indication of a problem at that level.

“Keep me advised on that please Rayna. What’s number two?”

“The Mjölnir mission. Again, at the moment this is simply flagged as unusual as opposed to critical. I have collated data from several sources which indicates a slight but detectable change in both speed and trajectory for the asteroid which I cannot currently attribute to any natural source.”

That’s definitely odd he thought, though he knew that his understanding of the universe was far from encyclopaedic.

“How does that affect the mission itself?” With a personal stake in it, he didn’t need to be blindsided when the timetable was already tight.

“If the information is correct, then it actually aids the mission as the asteroid appears to have decelerated. Again, I am still monitoring the situation.”

“Alright, thank you Rayna. I’ll hopefully check in again later but flag both of those items as priorities and advise me of any updates via the usual channels.”

He signed off with Rayna and began to prepare for his own busy schedule but felt that both of those items would nag at his subconscious throughout the day. He knew that either one of them could prove to be a complication that the world simply did not need right now.


YANGLIUQING SECURITY BUNKER
XIQING DISTRICT
TIANJIN
CHINA
EARTH
4th February 2026 – 2131 China Standard Time (1331 UTC)


“I feel I have to disagree father.”

Juan had not usually been one to hide her thoughts but until now she had capitulated with her father’s insistence that the mind control experimentation they had uncovered be kept secret from other world governments. It was a decision that had weighed heavily on her mind yet she had hoped her father would realise that it was now time to share their findings.

What concerned her most was that it appeared this would no longer be a viable option for her father. Since his discovery that his genetic brother was still alive and quite likely responsible for the work, he had become single minded about dealing with it unilaterally.

“And why does this doubt surface now Zhen?”

She sighed, feeling that honesty was better than dissembling at this point. She loved her father dearly and had trusted him implicitly in all their political dealings, both within the newly formed ECoN and with the world at large. Defusing the threat of nuclear war with the United States had been perhaps their greatest test after the previous Chinese leader, Huo Zhou, had masterminded the simultaneous attacks on 25 American cities. His death following the American’s reprisals had been a blessing to world peace.

It had also thrown her into the limelight of world politics much sooner than had been intended, not that she had been totally unprepared thanks to her father’s tutelage.

“The doubt father has been there from the very beginning, but now I am concerned that other events are shaping your decision making.” She bowed her head, not in subservience but in respect.

Chimera didn’t reply immediately but took the time to consider her statement.

“In a sense, you are not the first person to tell me that I am being blinkered today, and if two of the people I trust implicitly tell me this then I have to accept that there is an element of truth in it.” When he looked at Juan, it was as a father to his daughter, not as a teacher to a gifted child. “Can I suggest a compromise?”

She smiled, slightly taken aback not only by his admission that he may have been in error, but by his willingness to discuss the matter rather than maintaining his previous course of action.

“It was pointed out to me today that I have around me a team of people who not only rank as some of the most professional in their fields, but who trust in me to allow them to do the job I gathered them together to do.”

Juan inclined her head slightly, her almond eyes studying her father closely.

“My suggestion is that Mingli investigate the Iranian connection. Whether it proves that our information is correct or not, then we take it to the world leaders.” He took her hands and held them tenderly. “I have to know Zhen.”

“May I ask you the same question that you asked me? Why a change of heart now father?”

He smiled and it was one of both pride and tenderness. “Perhaps because I have watched you become a consummate leader in your own right. That would be enough of a reason to trust in your judgement, but as your father I find it difficult to say no.” He laughed quietly at the thought. “I believe fathers have had that problem with daughters for centuries.”

“It seems that it would be wrong of me to buck the trend of history then,” she replied feeling a corner had been turned.

He took her in a fatherly embrace and whispered thank you, and then the moment was past.

“Now, I suggest we return to other pressing matters. Tell me about our role in the forthcoming asteroid mission.”

For an instant, Juan thought she had seen a flicker of pain cross her father’s face but just as quickly it was gone and she pushed the thought from her mind as she began to outline the co-operative elements of the forthcoming mission.
 
Chapter 27 (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 27 (cont)
TANGO CONTROL
KARNI BORDER CROSSING
SOUTH EAST OF GAZA CITY
GAZA
EARTH
4th February 2026 – 1552 IST (1352 UTC)

Staff Sergeant Jack Carlisle was a big, bluff Yorkshire man who had made the Army his life. He had served in many of the world’s hotspots from Iraq to Somalia, Afghanistan to North Korea and had the wealth of experience that combat service bestowed on those lucky enough to return home.

Askwith had worked with Carlisle for almost five years in their own UK regiment and when tasked with leading a UN contingent here in Gaza had specifically requested that Carlisle serve with him for the duration of the mission.

“Take a seat please Jack,” Askwith said indicating one of the ubiquitous plastic chairs that barely qualified as a chair. “I’ve got a task I need you to head up for me.”

“So have the powers that be at the UN stopped buggerin’ about an’ come up with a plan then Sir?”

Askwith smiled knowing that Carlisle had little time for politicians and bureaucrats who were too busy covering their own backs to worry about those of the men and women in the field. It wasn’t an attitude the Sergeant showed or encouraged amongst the troops under him however, and when laced with his own broad Yorkshire accent in the privacy of Askwith’s office it never came across as facetious or disloyal. Irritated maybe he thought, but never malicious.

“I’m sure you won’t be too surprised to hear they’re still debating Jack.” Carlisle rolled his eyes in a world weary manner. “But that doesn’t prevent us from working within the rules to prepare ourselves does it?”

That caught Carlisle’s attention.

“True enough Sir, true enough,” he replied with a slight twinkle in his eye that meant he knew they were treading the grey borders of authority.

Askwith turned on a data slate and passed it to Carlisle who studied it intently, now all business. It displayed a map of Gaza city with four red circles at strategic points that intersected and overlapped neatly encompassing the whole area.

“I’ve just spoken to supply who’ve told me that we have four replacement Mayflys being dropped in to replace the ones that are down for servicing.”

A quizzical expression briefly passed across Carlisle’s rugged features. “I didn’t realise we’d got any down…” The dawning light of understanding finally appeared as he associated the four newly requisitioned Mayfly drones to the red circles on the map and nodded slowly.

“I need constant real-time surveillance across that area,” said Askwith pointing at the map. “In particular I want to try and pick up any regular movement of militia.”

He passed a memo marked with a bold, red EYES ONLY to Carlisle and waited. The Staff Sergeant’s face slowly darkened as he read the details before looking at Askwith in disbelief.

“Well if you’ll pardon me French Sir, what a load of bollocks!” Carlisle passed the flimsy back to his commanding officer in disgust. “They’re expectin’ a bloody civil war to break out in our laps but could we just hang on a minute because they haven’t finished bloody debatin’ it yet?”

Much as he wanted to, Askwith couldn’t suppress the grin at Carlisle’s righteous indignation. “Well the memo took more words to express that sentiment but that’s it in a nutshell.”

He placed the memo in the secure locker and sealed it before returning his attention to Carlisle.

“And that’s why we’re not going to get caught flat-footed on this one. I want four drones airborne 24/7 in the planned orbits so that we can monitor all movements of the militia. If there’s a pattern there I want to know about it and even if there isn’t we’re at least prepared with real time recon.”

“An’ all without one soldier settin’ foot in the place! Like it Sir, like it!”

Askwith stood, preparing to action the plan when a rapid knock at the door interrupted him.

“Come in.”

A UN trooper in the familiar blue helmet of their operations entered with a worried look on his face and a small scrap of paper in his hand that he quickly passed to Askwith.

“Trouble Sir. One of the boys out at the refugee control area was palmed this by an old lady a few minutes ago before she left.”

Askwith studied the hurriedly written note and his heart sank.

Soldier be careful. Killing bomb will be on next bus. You must stop it.

“When’s the next convoy of refugees due in?”

The soldier checked his watch. “About two hours Sir.”

Askwith hurriedly turned to Carlisle. “Sergeant, delay that last order for a while. There’s something I need you to do and we don’t have much time to do it.”


THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON DC, USA
EARTH
4th February 2026 – 0900 EST (1400 UTC)

Maddy stared into the camera intently as a hush fell over the Oval Office. In her concealed earpiece she heard the words “The President of the United States of America” and drew a breath, settling her mind.

“It is with a sense of relief that I address you today because without the skill and dedication of many people the situation may well have been very different. Despite the fact that I am still partially confined to my wheelchair, I resume today the duties of the office to which I was elected.”

The camera slowly zoomed in to frame Maddy between the Presidential flag and the US Flag behind her.

“My thanks go to Vice President Stephen Stearman who took the helm of this nation at a time when both national and global security were facing their severest tests. He proved his statesmanship in maintaining your security as his priority yet dealt with events on a global scale with equal tenacity.”

Her mien became grave as she continued, but there was steel in her voice.

“Once again liberty prevailed but around the world but at a cost of innocent lives. At a time when we are all now looking outwards to a threat that affects every person on this planet, there are still those who need to define the world in their image; who believe that terrorism has a place in politics. I am here today to tell you that this shall not be.”

Placing her hands palm down on the table to physically prevent herself from clenching her fists in anger, she continued.

“I want the citizens of this nation to understand that terrorism is not measured by the colour of a person’s skin or the religious beliefs they hold dear. In my service with the United States armed forces I served alongside Muslims, Christians, Jews and Catholics who all held the same values of liberty as I did. Some went on to die to preserve that liberty.”

She picked up a sheet of parchment from her desk, an unusual move away from the autocue.

“William O Douglas was an Associate Justice of the United States Supreme Court whose term lasted 36 years. He once said, and I quote; “As nightfall does not come at once, neither does oppression. In both instances there’s a twilight where everything remains seemingly unchanged and it is in such twilight that we all must be most aware of change in the air - however slight - lest we become unwitting victims of the darkness.” Words that are resonant today as we face an increase in terrorism around the world.”

Placing the parchment back on the desk, she returned her gaze to the camera.

“We all must now play our part in the security of liberty. I do not advocate vigilantism; indeed I denounce it as both illegal and counter-productive. Remember that the liberties of none are safe unless the liberties of all are protected. I simply ask that you remain watchful, alert and attentive because I do not intend this fine nation to become one of those unwitting victims of the darkness.”

The camera had zoomed out slowly as Maddy finished her speech.

“Not on my watch. God bless you, and may God bless America.”


EASTERN MEDITERRANEAN
SOUTH OF CYPRUS
EARTH
4th February 2026 – 1509 ZULU (1509 UTC)


The shores that surrounded the sparkling blue Mediterranean Sea were some of the most densely populated in the world, although it had not yet reached the time of the year where that population was swollen by the influx of tourists. As the USS Harry S Truman continued to co-ordinate the safe delivery of supplies from continually arriving merchant vessels, they were unaware of the danger that approached them.

Having slipped over the side of an innocent appearing fishing vessel, well outside the exclusion zone surrounding the fleet, five divers were now approaching carefully from the north. Their initial journey had been aboard electric powered sleds which now lay carefully weighted on the sea bed awaiting the divers should they return from their mission. None of the equipment was traceable, as the sponsor had stipulated, even down to labels being removed from the wet suits the divers wore.

Now, within 500 metres of the mighty vessel, they carefully and silently swam forward. The semi-buoyant, watertight cases each diver towed with them contained enough explosive in the form of shaped charges to penetrate the keel of a ship in carefully selected areas. Even a small 440 gram shaped-charge explosive was extremely destructive, and could penetrate more than 14 inches of armour. While they were aware it might not be enough to sink the Harry S Truman, the blow to American morale would be devastating.

They waited patiently until Air Cushion Landing Craft from the nearby Wasp class amphibious assault ship USS Makin Island began exiting the well deck and creating enough disturbance to cover the divers’ final approach.

Swimming deep below the gargantuan hull of the Harry S Truman, the watertight weapons were primed and quietly attached to areas surrounding critical systems. As soon as their weapon was attached, each diver immediately departed and only one would not return to the fishing vessel.

Eight minutes later, almost 100,000 tons of vessel was lifted in the water as five powerful explosions ripped through her keel. Water began flooding into the ship immediately despite the watertight doors slamming shut to compartmentalise the damage. With all the explosions tearing down the starboard side of the ship, the unequal ballast began to give the mighty carrier an immediate list.

Her turbine shafts were shredded and bent by the aft most explosion so even had the crew had time to raise the thirty ton anchors, the Truman wasn’t moving.

83 crew were killed immediately and many more would die from injuries sustained from over pressure in the spaces close to the explosions or wounds from shrapnel and burst high pressure pipes.

Despite the attacks on China, America and Israel being cited as the most obvious precursors of World War III, many future historians would point out that the crippling of the USS Harry S Truman was the real trigger; and only a handful of people would ever know who committed the attack.
TO BE CONTINUED
 
And so, dear readers, ends Book II!:eek:

I'll be taking a hiatus for a week or so to catch up on reading stuff that is long overdue (eh Gib? ;)) but Book III of what is now a quadrilogy is already in research and draft stages.

Comments as always more than welcome.
 
So the attack on the Truman is what ignites WW III? Interesting, considering only a handful of people know who did it. Perhaps this event will ignite the Gaza civil war? Speaking of that, I hope they stop the bomb in time! How will events in Iran unfold with two third party factions trying to destabilize the country? I hope we see Green in action. Also, its pretty cool to learn that Brack is actually Flint. I was wondering about the introduction of this mysterious Brack guy. Maybe his improved Ion drive will be a step towards the invention of impulse drive!

You've left me on the edge of my seat with anticipation and wanting more! But alas, I must wait. I hope your next, and final, book will be just as epic as the last three!
 
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