Star Trek : Angel - Book Two

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 12

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.

Chapter 12

CARAMAR FREIGHT HAULER SS PICADOR – MISSION OPS
UNNAMED PLANETOID
UFP SPACE
September 14th 2371 – 1739 FST

The planetoid they’d landed on was hardly a hospitable place, but its meagre atmosphere at least allowed them to spend some short while outside the ship without having to don EVA suits.

“Abe, whatever caused this came from outside the ship. It wasn’t a component failure.” Paul prodded at the small tear in the nacelle’s skin. “I don’t think it was a blast effect weapon either. Looks more like a planted charge.”

As the weapons specialist on Team Six, it seemed likely to Anderson that Paul would be able to tell the difference.

“You saying we were sabotaged?”

“Could be but it’s difficult to tell. When the manifold ruptured it removed any trace of whatever caused the damage.”

Anderson cursed under his breath. “Ok get back inside, we’ll need to re-evaluate.”

Closing the commlink to Paul he turned to Dan. “Think this is connected to that black shuttle?”

Alice had managed to refine the image enough to make out the basic form of hull and nacelles and it seemed to indicate a Federation designed ship similar to Starfleet’s latest type of shuttle.

“In situations like this, I tend not to think in terms of coincidences Abe. I’m more concerned about the mission being compromised though.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Since we left DS9, we haven’t advertised our whereabouts to anybody back at Starfleet. We were the only one’s who knew where we were.”

Anderson paused, realising that Dan was right. “So you’re saying somebody on the ship sold us out right?”

Dan nodded, unable to think of any other explanation. “The problem is that nobody is above suspicion including me. Think about it Abe, we’ve all had a chance to plant something like that at some point. Just enough to take us out of the race without destroying us.”

Anderson leaned his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands. “Great, just frakking great.”

Dan could only agree with the sentiment, and if whoever it was that had sabotaged the ship was actually connected to the mystery group in the black shuttle, it seemed likely that they’d just handed them a genocidal weapon.



USS HILDR
USS ANGEL – FLIGHT DECK
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 14th 2371 – 1824 FST

Vonny Dixon had left the science lab at shift change with plans well under way for the construction of the new android body. She’d promised to show Chariscarpia her planned new appearance when she’d refined it in the morning.

Right now, Chariscarpia was conversing with Commander Data. He too had made progress and was enthused that the theoretical information she had provided him with was showing great promise.

“Naturally, I do not wish to offer hope that may not be justified.”

“Thank you Data, I understand.”

And indeed she did. Her own people had worked on artificial sentience for many years but despite theoretical advances, the failures had sadly outweighed the successes.

“Have you considered the implications of this new existence Chariscarpia?”

Unsure what Data was alluding to, she told him so. There was an uncharacteristic pause from Data and she wondered if perhaps the commlink had been terminated, but he eventually replied.

“The properties of your new body and positronic net will offer you virtual immortality.” He paused again. “The subject is one that has weighed on my own mind of late.”

It was obvious to her that Data was trying to come to terms with something but she was still unsure what that might be.

“What is it that worries you so Data? It would seem that an extended lifespan would be a thing of great value.”

“I had considered it so as well until the loss of the Enterprise at Veridian III. When I found that my emotions were now a permanent state it set me to considering my relationships with those people I had previously considered comrades. Suddenly they were friends for whom I held a great deal of affection. To realise that I will quite possibly outlive all of them is now not something I feel quite so sanguine about.”

Chariscarpia considered this briefly. She could understand why Data felt this way, his recent acquisition of emotions still in their raw form.

“You said earlier that we were approaching the same point in life from different directions,” she said. “Perhaps that is why I can look on my impending change of mortality in a slightly different way.” Choosing her words carefully she continued. “I have already spent almost two hundred years believing that I am perhaps the last of my people Data, the only one that can remember first hand who we were and what we did. Immortality gives me the chance to perhaps give my people that same quality; they may be gone but they are remembered. In the same way, you have the ability to give your friends that same gift by remembering them when they too are gone. You will never be without them Data.”

She waited for his response knowing that this was something he perhaps felt he could never have discussed with one of his crewmates. The subject of immortality was difficult to contemplate for somebody that did not have it.

“I…thank you Chariscarpia.”

“You are offering me the hope of life Data. It seems a small thing to thank you with counsel and friendship.”

“Then you underestimate its value.” The uncertainty that had pervaded his voice was now gone. “I should return to my work now Chariscarpia, there is much to do.”

“Good night Data,” she said and for the first time since leaving her own ship, felt a sense of optimism she feared she had lost.



USS ANGEL – JUNIOR OFFICER’S QUARTERS
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 14th 2371 – 1933 FST

“Oh you are looking smart J.D. even if I say so myself.” Dorian admired his appearance in the full length mirror. He’d barely had time to get himself ready having spent an extra hour in MedCentre One checking on Gabby Escher.

Tomorrow morning, he knew they would be reducing her sedation so that her neurological responses could be checked before work on her spinal cord commenced. He knew they had done all that it was humanly possible to do for the time being, but hoped once she regained consciousness in the morning that it would prove to have been enough.

Checking himself one final time, he looked at the chrono and realised he was running late, not for the first time in his life. Still, he knew he’d prefer to be fashionably late than boringly early.

“Besides, you’ll knock ‘em dead boy.”

Dimming the lights he slipped out of the door and headed for the Phoenix Lounge. Within minutes he was back, realising he’d forgotten to clean his teeth.

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 12 (cont)

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.


Chapter 12 (cont)

USS ANGEL – PHOENIX LOUNGE
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 14th 2371 – 1945 FST

Helena Russell was quietly disappointed. She’d been certain that Anthony had worked up the nerve to attend tonight and she’d been patiently nursing her wine awaiting his arrival.

The command staff from the Mainstay had arrived a short while ago and she’d been pleasantly surprised to see an old friend in the shape of Commander Selena Thomas, the ship’s recently promoted CMO. She’d promised that once the entertainment was properly under way, she’d break free from her party and catch up. It was at that moment that the most bizarre thing happened and Russell nearly choked on her wine.

With a loudly shouted “Ta-dah!” John Dorian burst through the Phoenix Lounge doors and stopped dead in his tracks. Despite the round of applause he received, it was outweighed by his embarrassment at being the only guest to be present in fancy dress although it had to be said that his attention to detail in recreating Zefram Cochrane’s appearance was commendable.

“This wasn’t exactly the entrance I wanted to make ladies and gentlemen,” he grinned in mortification. “I’ll be right back.” At that, he exited much faster than he’d entered and the lounge broke into laughter and cheers again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please.”

On stage, Melista waited for the general hubbub to die down.

“When I tell you it’s a pleasure to be standing here tonight, it’s not an exaggeration. Trying to get this place into shape while the ship was being thrown around wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

There were laughs around the lounge at that. Melista and her mother Guinan had only just begun to work on the lounge when the crisis over Zethander had erupted. Rather than postpone their work though, they’d stayed at it throughout knowing that by the time the crisis was over the crew would need this place more than ever.

“But done it was,” she smiled, “and it’s good to see so many faces in here tonight including our esteemed guests from the Mainstay. Big round of applause please ladies and gentlemen!” A spotlight fell on the slightly forced grins of the visitors though it seemed that Captain Johnson was having a whale of a time as he hammed it up for the crowd.

Well, you’ve missed it now Anthony thought Russell. Boy are you in trouble in the morning.

Melista stepped down from the stage and stood in the middle of the darkened dance floor highlighted by a single spotlight.

“For a while I honestly thought we were going to have to rely on the jukebox in the corner there until tonight’s star guests persuaded me otherwise, so I’d like you to give a huge welcome to somebody most of you already know.”

The lights around the edge of the dance floor came up and a second spotlight fell on a piano to the right. Russell nearly choked for a second time.

“On piano tonight, Anthony ‘Doc’ Winston!”

Smiling broadly, he waved cheekily at Russell before launching into a stomping version of Honky Tonk Train Blues, a favourite of his from the early twentieth century. The atmosphere in the club became electric as Anthony pounded out the tune and within moments people were migrating to the dance floor.

Melista smiled as she paused by Russell’s side. “Kinda undignified to stand with your mouth open Helena.”

Russell’s thoughts had log jammed and she turned to Melista with a vaguely stunned expression.

“Truth be told though, even I didn’t know he was this good,” she said moving on to circulate.

******

Anthony Winston was having the time of his life. As he ran his fingers over the keys in one final honky tonk tremolo, the crowd whooped and cheered, even those who hadn’t yet made it to the dance floor.

Looking across at the bar area, he saw Helena with a thoroughly stunned expression on her face and waved. She raised her hand half-heartedly and waggled her fingers.

Gotcha! He thought.

Melista leaned over the piano, and noting Anthony’s wicked grin said “I’m guessing that the reaction from Dr Russell is what you were hoping for?”

“Absolutely!” His face was flushed as he sipped from a glass of chilled water. “That’ll teach her to underestimate me.”

Melista placed her fists on her hips and raised her eyebrows in an admonishing manner. “Don’t be too hard on her Anthony; she was using the hard sell to get you down here, I used deception.”

“Fair point.” Anthony had the grace to appear at least slightly contrite. “Could you provide her with something exotic on my behalf?”

“You, Dr Winston are a push over,” Melista chuckled, turning and heading for the bar. Before she’d taken more than a couple of steps though, she stopped and turned back. “By the way, did you notice the little control pad there?”

She pointed at the small glowing red light that had caught his attention when he’d taken his place at the piano earlier.

“Call it my present to you.” She nodded and continued on to the bar before he could ask exactly what sort of present it might be.

His finger hovered over the contact for a moment before he decided that Melista wouldn’t – well probably wouldn’t – do anything to embarrass him.

He closed his eyes and pressed the pad. When nothing overtly disastrous happened, he opened his eyes again and on the small screen was a line of text with a flashing cursor;

“PROGRAMME ACTIVE – ENTER REQUESTED SONG.”

Looking back at the bar, he saw Melista grin and wave her hand for him to continue.

What on earth is this all about? He wondered.

Shrugging, he thought for a moment then tapped in “That Ole Devil Called Love.” It was the song he’d played before Melista twisted his arm into playing here tonight, an old classic that had been sung by some of the greats; Billie Holliday, Ella Fitzgerald, Carmy Ch’kanth. More importantly to Anthony however, it was the song that he’d shared with Philippe.

He hesitated once again before hitting ENTER but decided nothing ventured, nothing gained and tapped in the command. The lights dimmed once more with the exception of the single spotlight on Anthony at the piano and then soft lights illuminated the stage area as the deep red curtains slowly drew back to reveal…

My god, it’s a complete big band!

Resplendent in white suits and dickey bows, the band stood and bowed as the crowd cheered appreciatively and the band leader stepped to the front of the stage.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, fellow beings, welcome to the Phoenix Club!” He raised his hand and as it fell, the band launched into the seductive opening chords of “That Ole Devil Called Love” and the band leader continued. “Bringing you live tonight, and for one night only, the big band sound of the Doc Winston Band and don’t let the snazzy suits fool ya, it’s all mirrors and smoke folks.”

The crowd laughed realising that the whole ensemble was a holographic recreation, though their sound was beautifully authentic.

“Doc! Don’t miss ya cue!”

The gathered throngs cheered both for the band and Anthony who, despite a lump in his throat, nodded and began to play in time with the band.

He’d just reached the phrase where he knew that Billie would slide in with the vocals and was on the point of humming it to himself when a crystal clear voice rang over the band.

“It's that ole devil called love again,
Gets behind me and keeps giving me that shove again,”

Anthony looked up in delight to see a beautiful young woman centre stage, the spotlight pinning her like an exotic butterfly.

“Putting rain in my eyes,
Tears in my dreams,
And rocks in my heart.”

Then he recognised her as the young ensign from sciences, Kara Asheen.

“It's that sly old son of a gun again,
He keeps telling me I'm the lucky one again,
But I still have that rain,
Still have those tears
And those rocks in my heart.”

Her voice washed over him and he softened his playing in counterpoint to her smoky delivery. Anthony felt alive again.

******

“This is some show you’ve put on here Kat.” Bill Johnson was loving every minute of it and even his command staff had at last relaxed.

“You have the hostess to thank for that Bill. Dan signed the paperwork then delegated it to me but Melista and Guinan did all the hard work. Voila, new lounge!”

His laugh was tinged with a little sadness. “Sounds like Dan’s style of delegation. Just a shame he’s not here for the premiere.”

Kat could only agree, but knowing now that he’d be back to see it soon gave her at least some small measure of comfort.

******

“I thought she was good in the club on Zethander, but this is something else,” said Vonny as she swayed to the sultry sounds.

Misaki nodded as she watched the patrons of the crew lounge carefully. Some were dancing, others tapping their feet; all were seemingly lost in the music.

“You would not think that she was terrified just a couple of hours ago.”

“Really?” Vonny looked at Kara in a new light and whispered “Go Kara” to herself.

******

As the night began to wind down and crew members reluctantly began to leave, Melista and Helena joined Anthony at the piano.

“You, Anthony Winston, are in deep trouble.” The fact that Russell delivered the line with a grin took the edge off it but Anthony apologised nonetheless.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to leave you standing at the bar all night but things…well…” He paused just long enough to deliver the line he’d been waiting to use all night. “My audience needed me.”

Russell rolled here eyes at Melista. “May the Gods save us from divas.”

“Will you excuse me for just a moment?” Anthony stood and hustled off into the crowd.

Turning back to Melista, Russell smiled. “Well we both came at it from different directions but I think we can call it mission accomplished. I haven’t seen him this happy in quite some time.”

“Kinda nice when you get things right isn’t it?” Melista looked around the club at the smiling faces and knew that tonight, they really had.

******

“Excuse me? Ms Asheen?”

Kara turned to see the CMO bearing down on her like a rampaging teddy bear wearing a grin a mile wide.

“Sir?”

“Oh please none of that while we’re in here. It’s Anthony and if you can’t manage that, Doc will do according to the band leader. What did he call himself?”

“Jacky, I think,” she grinned. Kara was still buzzing from the whole experience and was finding it hard to believe that before she stepped onstage she was so nervous her legs had been like jelly.

“Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. That was some performance up there.”

The small group gathered around her cheered and whistled their agreement.

“I just wanted you to know that’s all.”

She blushed furiously. “Thank you Si…” Kara bit her lip and grinned. “Doc.”

“You’re welcome.” As he turned and ambled back towards the piano, Misaki tapped her on the shoulder.

“Kara? We thought your family would like this?” She placed a small isolinear chip into her hand and Kara studied it in confusion.

“It’s a complete recording of the performance!” Vonny grinned.

Kara’s hand went to her mouth. “Really? With the band and everything?” She took both of her friends in a tight hug. “Oh thank you, thank you so much.”

Good times thought Vonny, good times.



USS ANGEL – TRANSPORTER ROOM 1
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 0015 FST

“You do realise that the crew of the Brunel are gonna hound you for a repeat performance of tonight don’t you?” Bill Johnson fully intended to return for that show as well.

Kat grinned. “The invitation’s already been made. I couldn’t be seen to be playing favourites could I?”

In reality, the Brunel had been delayed and hadn’t made orbit until an hour ago but Melista had already suggested they offer a repeat for the Brunel’s senior staff as well, “Just so they can see how a real crew lounge should be!”

Johnson ineffectively stifled a yawn. “Y’know I think I’m starting to get too old for this cavorting around.”

“I’m sure your pipe and slippers will be laid out for you when you get back don’t worry.” She hugged him briefly and said quietly, “Thank you for the support Bill. It’s appreciated more than you know.”

He squeezed her arm and winked. “Like you needed it, but you’re welcome.” Stepping up on to the transporter platform, he said “I’ll contact you in the morning and we’ll get together with Ellahar from the Brunel. Her teams should be starting first thing.”

He nodded to the transporter chief, and just as he dematerialized he began to yawn again, the effect becoming contagious as Kat barely managed to hide her own yawn.

Thanking the chief on duty, she headed back towards senior officer’s territory and reflected on the evening. While she’d spent much of it entertaining the Mainstay party, she’d occasionally excused herself to mix and chat with her own crew. Listening more than she actually spoke – a lesson she’d learned from Dan – she found that while the crew were tired, their morale was surprisingly unbowed.

Her last thought as she finally laid her head on her pillow was that Dan would be proud of the crew he’d assembled.

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 13

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.

Chapter 13


CARAMAR FREIGHT HAULER SS PICADOR – TRANSPORTER ROOM
UNNAMED PLANETOID
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 0023 FST

“Picador, this is the USS Chamberlain now making orbit. Transporter room is standing by.”

With repairs to the Picador’s warp drive not viable without dock facilities, Anderson had put out a subspace call requesting assistance from the nearest available Starfleet vessel. With their cover seemingly now blown, there seemed little point in continuing the subterfuge.

“Chamberlain, thanks for the ride. Standby.” Anderson turned to the young lieutenant who would nominally be in charge of the Picador while she awaited recovery. “Ok Steadman, keep her locked down. Starfleet has a Corps of Engineers ship on its way out here so all you need to do is house sit for a day or so.”

Steadman nodded then withdrew from the transporter platform. “I’ll make sure they treat her right Sir.”

“They’d better,” Anderson grimaced. “Chief?”

The transporter chief opened a channel to the border cutter in orbit.

“Chamberlain, five to transport.”

The battered (if only on the surface) transporter room of the Picador dissolved to be replaced by an equally snug but obviously Starfleet designed equivalent, and as the transporter effect released them a tall, grey haired Vulcan captain stepped forward.

“Colonel Anderson, I’m Captain Sannat, welcome aboard the USS Chamberlain. My orders are to offer whatever assistance you require.”

“Thank you Captain. If we could speak privately please?”

Sannat dismissed the chief and the two security officers before turning his attention back to Anderson, a typically neutral Vulcan expression on his face.

“Captain, you should be aware that we are a SpecOps team operating under the BROKEN SWORD protocol and that is naturally close hold information. I believe Commander Burgess has already transmitted a data package on the trail we’re following?”

Sannat inclined his head. “Yes Sir. Sensors already detected the plasma trail on the way into the system. I ordered the helm to lay in a course to intercept it as soon as you were aboard.”

“Excellent, we’re on a tight schedule Captain. I assume you’re also aware of the unknown vessel that was probably involved in our grounding?” With or without the help of a traitor he silently cursed, though that was a matter already in hand.

Again Sannat nodded. “With the information that the Commander sent, we’ve adjusted sensors to enable a search for the ship though so far neither are within sensor range.”

It was the one thing that worried Anderson above all else now; their enforced delay not only allowed Martello’s ship to widen the gap but it also enabled the unknown vessel to gain ground on Martello. It seemed obvious to Anderson that they were both in the same chase and he could only hope now that the border cutter’s superior speed would count in their favour.

The only consolation he had right now was that the noose was slowly tightening around the traitor’s neck. He hoped the next half hour would see them revealed but until that time nobody on Team Six was above suspicion, and that was something he disliked intensely.

“Captain Sannat, with your permission I’d like to check out the equipment we beamed aboard and brief my team if you have a corner we could borrow?”

Sannat turned to the transporter room door and indicated they should follow him. “I have secured an annexe on the hangar deck for your use Sir.”

Heading aft, Anderson spoke quietly to Sannat. “Captain, one last thing. I’m expecting to receive a secure communication shortly. When it arrives I would appreciate it being piped directly to the hangar deck annexe please.”

Sannat raised an inquisitive eyebrow but said nothing other than “Yes Sir.”



IMPERIAL LINES STARLINER I.S.C.S.OLYMPIC
EN-ROUTE TO STARBASE 310 (CARDASSIAN BORDER REGION)
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 0127 FST

Nan had become so engrossed in her reading that she hadn’t realised just how late it was. Her love of baseball, the intriguing story of times past and a need to escape the present had colluded to rob her of her sense of time.

She placed the hand written note from Kal between the pages as a bookmark and then placed the gift on her bedside cabinet before heading into the fresher. As she looked in the mirror she noted how quickly the colour was now fading from her hair and indeed it was as white as she’d expected.

She shook her head wondering just where all the years had gone to leave her where she was now but for all that, she knew she was in the place she wanted to be. The lows of her life were equally balanced by the highs it seemed. A failed marriage to a con-man had gifted her with a beautiful and intelligent daughter while the sadness of witnessing the influx of displaced refugees had turned into satisfaction as Cestus III had benefited from their arrival to become a thriving and ever growing colony, one she was immensely proud to be Governor of.

She thought back to Kal Balak’s parting request. “I want you to think long and hard about running for the presidency.” As a career politician, it was of course something she had thought about once or twice though not with any great sense of determination. She’d always told herself that if the day ever came when she could devote herself to more than her planet of birth, then she might just run, but so far that day hadn’t arrived.

Returning to the bedroom, she settled into bed and checked her PADD one last time for tomorrow’s schedule. Top of the list was contacting Piers Renault back on Cestus III. As her press liaison she wanted to make sure that any enquiries about Kal Balak’s involvement in the transportation of the refugees was subtly rerouted to his own PR people.

She scrolled through the list of other issues she needed to attend to which wasn’t as long as she’d feared with many of the minor details being handled by her own team back on Cestus III. Finally placing the PADD aside with the alarm set for 0700 hours, she dimmed the lights and drew the duvet up around her. Federation President? She thought. Not just yet Kal.

As the stars streaked by outside the panoramic window of her bedroom, Nan Bacco slipped into a comfortable sleep.



USS CHAMBERLAIN – HANGAR BAY ANNEXE
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 0247 FST

It seemed to Anderson that he’d barely finished checking the gear and laid his head down when his communicator chimed with an incoming message from the Picador routed via the Chamberlain’s bridge. Quietly removing himself to a separate office, he spoke to Steadman who had, as per Anderson’s orders, completed the search of all five personal quarters of the Team Six members. He frowned as Steadman reported that they had recovered a keypad and connecting equipment hidden beneath the bed of Dan Fishlock. Whatever he had expected them to discover, that wasn’t it. He thanked Steadman and with a heavy heart terminated the transmission before heading back to his recently vacated bunk.

He was tempted to speak to Dan immediately, but decided that morning would be here soon enough and it was a conversation he wasn’t at all looking forward to.

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 13 (cont)

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.

Chapter 13 (cont)


USS ANGEL – MEDCENTRE ONE
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 0733 FST

As the Gamma shift handed over their duties to the oncoming Alpha shift, the MedCentre’s were buzzing with conversation about the previous night’s events in the Phoenix Club, in particular the appearance of one ‘Doc’ Winston.

For his part, Anthony took it all in his stride with a mile wide grin and much grace.

“So when does the Gamma shift get to see you in action Sir?”

Anthony smiled at the young offgoing combat medic. “Well as your shift changes over to Alpha tonight, you’ll be glad to know that there’s a repeat performance starting at 19.30 hours.” He pointed at the slightly embarrassed Dorian and stage whispered “No fancy dress though.”

It seemed that that piece of information had also been doing the rounds and Dorian slumped into a seat dejectedly as the combat medic left chuckling.

“For the record Sir that costume took me a long time to get just right.”

“And stunning you looked young Dorian, if slightly over dressed. Still, no time for chit chat about your sartorial elegance, we have a patient to attend.”

As they headed through the connecting doors to the critical care unit, Dorian couldn’t help but notice the continuing change in Winston. While the CMO had never exactly been maudlin, he’d rarely struck Dorian as the outgoing and thoroughly entertaining man he’d seen last night and it was a change that suited him.

“You seemed to be enjoying the limelight last night Sir?”

Anthony glanced sideways at Dorian with a half smile. “Would that be your ill concealed attempt to ask why I’m not mooching around?”

Caught flat footed by Anthony’s question, Dorian floundered. “Oh no, not at all Sir, I mean it’s good to see you…that is, not that you were…”

“John you’re babbling.”

Dorian had the sense to close his mouth before his foot became lodged in it.

“The answer to your unasked question is that thanks to the kind heartedness of a couple of good friends, I discovered I’d got a life I wasn’t living. If you want a more in depth answer, pop over to the piano tonight and I’ll explain.”

Stopping at the bedside of Gabby Escher, Anthony scanned the display of her vital signs and nodded in satisfaction.

“I think it’s time for sleeping beauty to awaken.” He tapped in several commands on the support frame and the automated sedatives were replaced by a mild stimulant. Within moments Gabby Escher’s eyelids flickered and she squinted against the light in the room.

Ordering the lights to 50%, Anthony smiled at Gabby. “Hello Gabby. My name’s Doctor Anthony Winston.” Anthony saw her face relax slightly as she became aware of her surroundings though immediately tense again as she realised she couldn’t feel anything below her neck. “Now I don’t want you to worry about not being able to move because we’ve done that to help in your treatment alright?” He watched as she slowly became aware of the artificially induced paralysis and nodded slightly. “Do you know where you are?”

She swivelled her eyes around the room then back to Anthony. “I’m guessing by the fact you’re a doctor, I’m in a bio-bed and you’re wearing a commbadge that I’m in a Starfleet medical facility?”

“Well your deductive skills are certainly not impaired,” he smiled. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Gabby closed her eyes again in an attempt to recall the events leading to her being here.

“I remember being at breakfast, then the exercise briefing, then walking out to the flight line with the rest of the cadets from my class and after that…no nothing.”

“Not to worry, it’ll come back to you.” He tapped the controls once more on the vital signs monitor and studied several neurological readings as he spoke. “And do you know what the date is?”

Again, Gabby struggled to remember. “I’m not sure how long I’ve been here Doctor. The exercise was scheduled for the…12th? Yes the 12th of July.”

Anthony readjusted the flow of analgesics and sedatives to Gabby before placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

“Alright, well I want you to get as much rest as possible for me. There’s some way to go yet, but right now things are looking positive ok?”

Gabby blinked drowsily as the sedatives began to take effect. “Thank you Doctor. Was…there an…accident?”

Anthony hoped the sudden concern he felt wasn’t evident on his face. “All in good time my dear. For now, just rest.”

Gabby’s eyes gently closed and Anthony stared at her for a while before turning to Dorian and indicating they should return to the office. They walked in silence and Dorian wisely said nothing to disturb Anthony’s train of thought. When they finally arrived back in the CMO’s office though, Anthony looked gravely at Dorian.

“So what’s the prognosis Sir?”

Anthony was silent for a moment before answering and his worry was clear.

“I’m concerned John. Her memory of the date might just have been confusion, but she mentioned walking out with the other cadets.” Seeing that Dorian didn’t seem to be following his reasoning, he continued. “If she’d simply said with the cadets, I might have accepted it but when she said with the rest of the cadets from my class it indicates to me that she included herself amongst them.” He sat heavily in his chair. “I’m fairly certain that Commander Escher hasn’t been a cadet for some years.”

“So if the last thing she remembers is a flight as a cadet…” Dorian’s voice trailed off.

“Exactly.”



SS LEECH
IN FLIGHT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 0750 FST

In the days since they had left the Repository, Gabriel had been allowed to sleep only in short spells with the exception of his time on New France. Right now, despite the driving force of the parasite, he felt close to collapse.

The trembling in his hands had worsened and he found that quite often now, that small segmented portion of his mind that was his one refuge seemed almost beyond reach. It was only with effort that he was able to draw himself back to it. What concerned Gabriel most was that if he was having to exert an effort to remain at least partly free, then the parasite may well notice.

After a fitful night of intermittent sleep, Gabriel had looked in the mirror and seen a gaunt and bloodshot reflection that barely resembled a human let alone the man he used to be. Fatalistically, he wondered just how much longer he would be of use to the parasites.

Strangely, when he had a specific piloting task to perform, he felt slightly more in control. The parasite had selected apparently random navigation points making their route a zigzag of short hops rather than a straight line course to a destination. At each stop he would scan local space detecting the occasional distant trace of another vessel or some minor interstellar body, but the parasite would then order a new course and the journey would continue. If they were searching for something, he wasn’t privy to the details.

After their initial departure from the Repository, he’d been ordered to set course for Capella though when the parasite had discovered the transponder and ordered Gabriel to land on Capella to have it removed, he’d been forced to point out that humans in general and Starfleet officers in particular weren’t at all welcome on the planet. He’d checked the charts and finally suggested New France, the idea of leaving a trail now forming.

Since then however, they hadn’t made planetfall at all so other than the plasma trail, which he surreptitiously attempted to keep thick, he’d had no chance to add further clues.

From New France he’d flight planned out to Kressari although he was well aware that they wouldn’t be landing there. After maintaining a course towards the planet for a short while he’d then been forced to re-route, his heading now taking them out past the Hanolan Colony where once again he’d been told to drop out of warp, and once again found they were in the middle of empty space.

He performed the scan as before to the requirements defined by the parasite and while he noted nothing extraordinary in the readings, he suddenly became aware of a change in the parasite. It was far too mild to be classed as excitement and yet it carried the same emotional overtones, something Gabriel had not felt from the invader before. Without preamble, he felt himself wearily entering a new heading into the helm, his trembling hands struggling now to comply with the forced orders. He completed the plot and as he wearily sat back in the seat, he once again wondered how much longer he would be of use to the parasite.



USS BRUNEL
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 0754 FST

The Nova class USS Brunel was in no way a large ship. 165 metres in length, eight decks and a standard crew of around 80 made her somewhat tight on space but she was an ideal mount for the SCE. Replacing the older Oberth Class, she had better range, sensors and defensive capabilities but the confined enclosure that was the Captain’s ready room would have been crowded with just three people in it. Captain Ellahar Pathan smiled as she escorted her guests into the observation lounge and indicated seats at the diminutive table.

“I guess compared to those luxury liners you lucky people float around in it’s a little spartan, but we love her to bits. Drinks?”

The Canopian crossed to the replicator and drew herself a frothy beverage of indeterminate origin, a Java for Kat and a black mug of spiced Arrak for Bill Johnson. As Pathan joined them at the table, she held Bill’s mug at arm’s length.

“That is one potent brew!”

“Uh huh, but it gives me the kick I need to start the day.” He took a sip and grimaced.

“Nothing wrong with it I hope?” Pathan looked slightly embarrassed as she prayed that the replicators weren’t playing up again.

“Nope,” he said breathing deeply, “first sip always gets me that way.”

All three Captain’s laughed at that and eventually settled down to the business at hand, Bill Johnson taking the lead.

“Alright, all your palettes of equipment are in situ Ella and the seismic struts are awaiting your call for a beam down.” The seismic struts were the specialised pieces of equipment that would be embedded into the rapid expansion ferrocrete that was even now being injected into the ground below Coral City’s ruined streets.

“That should be sometime this afternoon if all goes well Bill. Actually gaining access to a safe fill point for the REF was bad enough so I don’t want to rush things there. Oh and thanks to both of you for the loan of extra hands, it’s made the task of releasing some of my specialists to other tasks much easier.” With the rush out to the emergency zone, the Brunel hadn’t had time to pick up further teams and was now relying on extras from both the Mainstay and the Angel for the none specialist work. “I understand you’re after a favour in return Kat?”

Kat placed her mug on the table and nodded. “If we get the chance anyway. When the Scorpion was dragged into the anomaly by the Borg, her bow was severed when the rift closed. It’s still out there but we’ve been waiting for the spatial disturbance to die down before going after it.”

In fact the whole area around what had once been a tear in space had been a maelstrom of spatial activity and they were lucky indeed that the two remnants of Scorpion were still relatively unscathed by the asteroids that had been set in motion. With a specialist SCE team available, the hope was that a recovery attempt could now be made.

“We did try tractors, but my Science officer tells me there are gravitic anomalies aplenty in there that are playing havoc with that idea. Any advice?”

Ella was contemplative for a short while as she considered the alternatives at her disposal. Finally, she leaned forward on the table and said, “Ok leave it with me. We might just have a trick or two up our sleeves.”

“That’s appreciated Ella thank you.”

Ella pointed out of the observation room window at the deceptively calm looking planet.

“It sure went to hell pretty fast out there.”

“And then some,” agreed Kat. Looking at the seemingly benevolent blue and white globe turning below them, Kat’s mind turned to the root cause of their problems. “I assume your teams were all briefed about the possibility of surviving Borg still being down there?”

“Absolutely. We’re still having trouble getting decent sensor scans around some of that sub-strata material but they’re all as prepared as they can be.”

Which isn’t very when it comes to the Borg thought Kat.

“Bearing the bogey men in mind Ella,” chimed in Bill, “I’d recommend, when you get the chance, a deep scan of the Borg cube impact site.”

Ella was instantly alert. “You think there may be more down there?”

Bill held up his hands to forestall her concerns. “I very much doubt it. We’ve been monitoring the site from here, but as a science vessel I suspect you’ve got better equipment to penetrate to the depth the wreckage is at and just confirm what we’ve already seen.”

Making a note on her PADD, Ella nodded. “Well, if that’s all there is?” She stood, obviously eager to throw herself into the task at hand.

“Don’t forget,” said Kat, “19.30 aboard the Angel.”

Bill laughed. “Trust me it’s an invite you don’t want to pass up!”

“The rumours are rife already believe me,” smiled the Brunel’s CO. “We’ll be there. Thanks for coming over and the gifts are very much appreciated.”

As they took their leave and headed towards the transporter on deck 3, Kat smiled at Bill. “I hate to say this but I think I’m getting used to this fourth pip.”

“Well I hate to say I told you so.” He tapped the pad to call the turbolift. “Not afraid of the centre seat any more then?”

Kat thought seriously about the question despite the fact that Bill had meant it light heartedly. As the ‘lift arrived and the doors hissed open, she paused a moment.

“Let’s just say I have a healthy amount of respect for the person who occupies it regularly.”

 

[Gibraltar]

Commentary on Chapter 12

That was a wonderful exchange between Data and Chariscarpia, as they both ponder their significant longevity.

Winston surprising Helena in the lounge was simply priceless! The whole scene with the Phoenix’s opening was a warm and welcome distraction from the tragedies occurring elsewhere.

Loved the holographic band, they really add to the already exotic flavor of the lounge.

 

[Gibraltar]

Commentary on Chapter 13

Hopefully Anderson will guess that anyone clever enough to sabotage Team Six’s efforts from the inside wouldn’t be so careless as to leave incriminating evidence under their bunk. Dan’s being set up, and this distraction will only complicate the ongoing mission.

Dorian flailing at his gaffe with Winston was laugh-worthy, but now you’ve got me worried with Escher’s troubling prognosis. Potentially years of her life erased by the trauma of the crash... almost more merciful if she’d perished.

It’s beginning to look like Gabriel’s days may be numbered as his parasite guest is burning his body’s candle at both ends. Here’s hoping Team Six can find him in time.

Again, great stuff, and welcome back...

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 14

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.


Chapter 14


USS ANGEL – SCIENCE LAB 4
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 0912 FST

“So how does it look?” Vonny indicated her handiwork proudly.

“Are you sure you have not…how you say…too much endowed her?”

Vonny giggled at Anya Vischenko’s assessment of the prosthetic body she’d prepared for Chariscarpia. True, it was voluptuous for want of a better word, but it was based on Chariscarpia’s own measurements. The only difference was the multi-jointed knee which Chariscarpia had told her would now be more of a hindrance than a help.

“I think over-endowed is the phrase you’re looking for Anya.”

Anya shrugged but pushed on anyway. “Whatever, there is still great deal of front.”

Anya’s Russian accent was becoming slightly less pronounced these days unless she happened to be involved in an engineering discussion. Or one about boobs thought Vonny, deciding to change the subject.

“How are things in the world of mass destruction then?”

Anya was a weapons specialist aboard the Angel and, like Vonny, a Brevet-Ensign. They had both come from the same quad at the Academy for this extended ship assignment and so far had gained more from their short time here than a semester full of classes.

“Is not mass destruction thank you. You only say that because I insulted your work!” Anya grinned and picked up a PADD from the table. “If you mean how is my work in the weapons division, it is good. They have me detailed for torpedo pod.”

The Angel was far from toothless either in defence or offence and one of her prime assets was the multi tube torpedo pod located atop the over-arcing roll bar at the rear of the ship. Anya had already confided that she was looking at a way to increase the weapons automated load rate.

“Well that should take care of your aerobics workout then.”

Anya nodded ruefully. “Is long climb, just ask my legs.” She stood and waved the PADD. “I must get this to Chief Dawkins. Will you be at the Phoenix again tonight?”

“If I get the chance, absolutely. You?”

“Da, if I don’t get extra duty for delivering report late!” As she headed for the science lab door, she called over her shoulder. “I still say she will overbalance with chest like that,” and disappeared before Vonny could think up a suitable retort.

“Everyone’s a critic” she said, shaking her head, and then set back to work.


USS CHAMBERLAIN – HANGAR BAY ANNEXE
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 0925 FST

After breakfast was finished and their equipment check was underway, Anderson asked Dan to join him in the small office. As the door closed Anderson wasted no time in small talk.

“Our saboteur is either an amateur or pushed for time Dan.”

Dan shook his head trying to catch up with a conversation that he felt he’d missed the first part of. “Sorry, I assume something has come up?”

Anderson nodded and indicated that Dan should take a seat. “Steadman contacted me in the early hours. They swept all five of the team quarters in pairs.”

“And they found?”

“A comm keyboard, wiped of all serials and a formatted backup buffer. It was under your bed Dan.”

Dan was silent for a moment and then shook his head. “I see what you mean about amateur or rushed. Why didn’t they just recycle it?”

In their wait for the arrival of the Chamberlain, Anderson and Dan had ensured that their rooms were thoroughly swept by two crewmen. They’d spent the least time alone during the mission, with much of their work being together on the bridge. Logically, they were least likely to be the saboteurs. The sweep had proven clean and after that point neither Anderson nor Dan had returned to their rooms nor been out of each others sight.

Somebody had planted the keyboard unaware that a preliminary sweep had already been done. With the fact that only the members of Team Six were aware of their agenda and Anderson and Dan having effectively been ruled out, that left Paul, Alexander and Burgess.

“I suspect that if this were to become public knowledge, somebody somewhere would play the line that you were too personally involved what with Martello being your friend and decided to take matters into your own hands.”

Dan was feeling angry and frustrated on so many levels right now. The fact that there was a traitor amongst people he had trusted, or the fact that he didn’t know why there was a traitor or indeed who they were working for all took second place to the worst irritant. It endangered the safety of not just his closest friend, but untold thousands…no millions, if this thing were activated.

Biting back the string of profanities that had log jammed in his throat, he looked at Anderson. “So what now?”

Anderson sighed and dry washed his face. “Well, I have an idea but I don’t like it.”

As Anderson explained, Dan had to agree with his sentiments.


DEEP SPACE

Looking at a star chart of the galaxy, anybody unfamiliar with the layout of the United Federation of Planets and the surrounding Empires and Coalitions (and of course not noting the chart scale) would be forgiven for thinking how crowded it seems. Planetary systems appear a mere stones throw from each other, Starbases within easy call and minimal travelling time between civilized worlds.

The truth of course is far different. Vast oceans of vacuum separate those tiny oases of sentient warmth and comfort and while charted star routes are safer now than they’ve ever been, like the old oceans of earth things can change rapidly and phenomena can develop out of sight and strike without warning.

Making matters worse is the fact that many interstellar phenomena are still barely understood, their true nature masked by roiling clouds of plasma or fractures in subspace or any one of a dozen other destructive forces. Understanding and therefore preparing for something that can’t be examined is a no win scenario.

So it is that in the depths of space, a small mote of light coalesces, seemingly innocent in its multi-hued twinkle but with nobody to witness its formation and no automated station near enough to register the outpouring of radiation from its epicentre, it grows and waits.


IMPERIAL LINES STARLINER I.S.C.S.OLYMPIC
APPROACHING STARBASE 310 (CARDASSIAN BORDER REGION)
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1024 FST

Standing on the bridge of the Olympic Nan reflected just how far her mission had come as they approached Starbase 310. The Alpha Trianguli system in which Starbase 310 was located was a binary star system near the former Cardassian Demilitarized Zone and, amazingly to Nan’s mind, visible from Earth 63 light-years distant.

For all its size, Nan thought, it seems space seems to contract every day.

“Governor?” Captain Nereth Dubois turned from her position close to the conn. “Starbase 310 has cleared us into orbit. They say they are ready to beam aboard the immigration and customs teams whenever we’re ready.”

“That’s wonderful news Captain,” she beamed, truly grateful that they could expedite the process of giving the displaced hope for a new start. “At your discretion.”

Dubois turned to her communications officer and cleared the transport of the initial teams as Nan looked at the apparently serene stellar scene on the monitor. In reality, not far beyond what she could see now was a redrawn line that encompassed former UFP worlds now under Cardassian control and some of the stories she’d been hearing from resettled refugees confirmed that it was a brutal control.

She hadn’t been in any way surprised at the formation of the Maquis; impinge on a person’s liberty and they’ll eventually rebel. As a planetary Governor and therefore a representative of the UFP’s ruling body, she couldn’t openly sympathize with the Maquis operation but on a personal level, she could certainly understand it. Still, as long as she could continue to do her part in removing men, women and children from the heart of the dispute she knew she was saving innocent lives.

“The teams are aboard Governor. A Mr Petrie is requesting your attendance in the transporter room.”

“Thank you Captain. Please advise Mr Petrie I’ll be with him shortly and thank you for all the hard work your crew has put in.”

Dubois offered a salute, something Nan hadn’t seen in a long time, and said “Actually Governor, members of my crew wished me to make the same expression of thanks to you. Many still have family over the border.”

“Then let’s make sure we do it right Captain, for all of them.”

As Nan left the bridge a thought occurred to her. Would she, in the position of President of the Federation, actually have either the time or ability to achieve what she had here? She doubted it, and for now was glad of her lowly rating in the scheme of things political.


SS LEECH
IN FLIGHT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1053 FST

Gabriel sat in the pilot’s seat and waited as once more a scan was run on local space. He had attempted to sub-consciously transmit his fatigue and need for rest to the parasite but it either hadn’t noticed or simply didn’t care. Either way, he now felt on the verge of collapse. Even with the driving force of the parasite controlling him, there was only so much a relatively frail human body was likely to stand and Gabriel knew his limit was close at hand.

In the midst of the spatial sensor scan, a red light began flashing rapidly in the corner of the screen and the sensors switched immediately to a sector of space close to the Leech. Gabriel’s heart leapt when he saw that an unknown vessel was rapidly closing on their position, its stealth characteristics having so far kept it hidden.

With a blaring scream in his mind, the parasite ordered “ESCAPE! SHIELDS! NOW!” It was almost as if a diamond tipped drill had penetrated his brain and he threw his hands up convulsively to his temples at exactly the same moment the parasite was attempting to make him do otherwise. The result was that not only were the shields not raised but Gabriel’s hands struck the controls in a panicked swipe causing the Leech to rear upwards and to port.

The speed of the approaching craft gave it no chance to avoid its suddenly corkscrewing target and it ploughed directly into the aft cargo bay seconds after Gabriel heard the tinkling sound of a transporter. For the briefest of moments he felt the sudden release of pressure that had clamped his mind since before leaving the Repository, a susurration of background noise and commands he had become so used to that he’d relegated them to the back of his consciousness. In their place was the one plaintive scream of the parasite in his body, now seemingly cut off from the artefact.

When the Section 31 craft impacted the Leech it came close to tearing the vessel in two and Gabriel was thrown twenty feet across the bridge to land against one of the side auxiliary consoles. There was a sickening snap as his head and neck connected with the edge of the console, but just before blissful velvet darkness claimed Captain Gabriel Martello, his final thought was I’m free.

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 14 (cont)

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.


Chapter 14 (cont)

USS CHAMBERLAIN – HANGAR BAY ANNEXE
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1057 FST

Burgess, Paul and Alexander watched silently as Dan Fishlock was taken from the annexe by a pair of Chamberlain’s security officers despite his bitter protestations of innocence. As the doors slid closed, Anderson turned to the Vulcan captain, his tone low and tired.

“Captain Sannat, can you please ensure that Captain Fishlock is treated well on his way back to DS9? I have no idea what caused his betrayal, but I do know that he has been under tremendous emotional stress during this mission.”

Sannat acknowledged the request gravely. “The matter is in hand Colonel.”

“Thank you Captain, that’s all.” Sannat’s measured tread was the only sound in the annex and as the doors finally closed, Anderson slumped into one of the folding chairs that had been supplied.

“This just isn’t right Abe.” Burgess’ face was a picture of shock. “I didn’t know Dan that well personally, but his record alone speaks volumes.”

Anderson turned to Burgess and shrugged. “Alice, all our records are pristine come to that, but it could only have been one of us that betrayed the mission. The keyboard found in Dan’s room was the clincher.”

Alexander sighed. “I guess hard evidence is pretty difficult to argue with, but even I feel like there’s something more to this.”

Paul turned a chair around and sat down facing the group. “Is it at all possible that one of the Picador’s crew could have found a way into the mission brief files?”

Alice shook her head dismissively. “Not a chance Adrian. You know all the systems in mission ops are firewalled way beyond what any of the crew would be capable of accessing.”

Anderson followed the conversation realising that everything that had been said had already gone through his own mind. The fact remained that one of the three people he was now sat with was not only a traitor but a damned good actor because as far as he could tell, they were all genuine in their disbelief of Dan’s guilt.

He stood to face them. “I would say that right now we have other things to consider. Dan was our ace in the hole with Martello and now he’s gone we need to replan our tactics.”

“Let’s just hope it’s not too late,” replied Paul.

Amen to that was all Anderson could think.

******

As Dan and his escort approached the secondary shuttle bay doors, they were met by Captain Sannat. His Vulcan demeanour gave away little but Dan almost caught a sense of amusement at the part he was playing. Dismissing the two security guards, Sannat removed the cuffs that had been put on Dan and nodded.

“Captain Fishlock, I have no idea what is going on only that your mission is apparently more important than ever.” He led Dan into the small bay on the port side of the Chamberlain and indicated the shuttle sitting there. “Colonel Anderson asked me to inform you that we will cover your trail and delay any response from here as long as possible, which knowing the deviousness of some of my crew should give you an excellent start.”

“Thank you Captain, I deeply appreciate your trust in this despite how bizarre the situation appears.”

Sannat inclined his head, and with his hands behind his back stepped away from the shuttle.

“Whatever the situation may or may not be Captain, good luck.”

Dan moved up to the shuttles cockpit and seeing that the small vessel had already had its pre-flight completed ran up the impulse and warp drives. He watched as the auxiliary bay doors parted to reveal the diamond scattered vista of space and silently edged the shuttle forward through the atmospheric force field.

As he cleared the border cutter, he brought up the sensor array and noted that the plasma trail they had been following was now quite a way off to port of the Chamberlain’s course and diverging rapidly.

Nice one Sannat he smiled to himself, and entered the co-ordinates that would bring him back on track. With every second now vital he opened the shuttles engines wide and prayed that whoever had been tracking Gabriel hadn’t made their move yet.

Hang in there Gabe.


USS ANGEL – MEDCENTRE ONE
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1112 FST

When JD entered Anthony’s office, the CMO was trawling through a stack of PADDs. He held up the one he was carrying with a half smile.

“It was exactly as you thought Sir. Her memory of the date wasn’t confusion.”

In their discussions after visiting Gabby, Anthony had postulated that perhaps her recollection of the date wasn’t down to the sedation fogging her memory.

“12th of July, 2367.” He handed the PADD to Anthony. “Just as she told us, a training flight at the Zethander Flight School. Gabby was a cadet and during the exercise there was a mid-air collision between two of her flight. The wreckage struck her trainer and she ejected.”

Anthony nodded as he skipped several pages that listed the details of the accident and found the medical report filed some two days later.

“No physical injuries other than cuts, bruises and spinal compression from the ejection, but…” Anthony whistled softly and looked up at Dorian. “Amnesia and an extended period of treatment for mental trauma.”

“In the pages you skipped there, you missed the crucial factor Sir.” Anthony quickly paged back, and there it was. Of the two fatalities in the accident, one was named as Bereth Escher. It had been her younger sister.

“Damn, that complicates things.” Anthony laid aside the PADD and sat back disconsolately in his seat. “I can’t carry out the spinal work under constant sedation, and I can’t risk the possible trauma of her new situation affecting her chances of recovery from the spinal work.”

“Catch 22.”

“That it is young Dorian, that it is.”


USS KOCH
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1123 FST

Spider zeroed the controls and looked across at Dingbat who sat in the left hand seat of the USS Koch. The recently recovered runabout had survived much of the battering on Zethander with only cosmetic damage, and after reattaching the warp nacelle she was now in the initial stages of flight testing prior to returning to service.

Normally the flight testing would have been handled by duty personnel but with their workloads clear and many of the flight crews aiding recovery operations on the planet, Spider and Dingbat had decided to get a little stick time themselves.

“OK, primary interlinks check, redundant links check and RCS modules all check.”

Spider leaned forward and tapped a small screen between the seats. “I’m not happy with the port thrusters there Dingbat. Look.”

Bringing the schematic up on a larger screen, they studied the output ratings and indeed the port forward thrusters were a little under 6% below the others.

“Is that the one they pulled out of stores?”

Checking through the overhaul listings, Dingbat eventually nodded. “Yep. Think it’s the wrapping?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Spider tabbed both fore thrusters to their highest setting then set the remainder to station keeping. As he entered the execute command the Koch slewed gently to port as the weaker thruster lost its fight with the starboard thruster. For a few seconds, the gentle rotation continued before an audible pop heralded the port thruster running up to full power. Outside the cockpit, the scattered remains of factory sealant blew past the window.

Dingbat made a note on the PADD to check all spare thruster modules in stores for the recalcitrant packing, a problem that had been plaguing them for some time now. The packing wasn’t physically accessible and only became apparent either when the thruster was in use or if it was scanned before fitting.

Fortunately, it was thought only one batch had been affected by the factory error. Unfortunately, Angel appeared to have received that batch.

Spider was busy zeroing the controls again when he heard Dingbat snort.

“What the hell is that?”

He was pointing out in the direction of the Brunel and Spider took a moment to spot what exactly had prompted the outburst, and then he saw it. Like Spider, Dingbat was essentially a purist when it came to the craft he serviced and aesthetic sensibilities were often at the top of his list of requirements for any space going vehicle.

The one that appeared before them now bore no connection to that requirement at all. It was still possible to tell that it had once been a Starfleet shuttle, but only just. Struts and strengthening plates covered much of the surface with what appeared to be an industrial tractor unit securely attached where the rear access hatch would normally have been.

“Looks like a Borg reject if ya ask me,” grunted Spider as the shuttle came to a halt abeam Angel.

“Angel to Koch.”

Dingbat answered the hail while still staring in dismay at the…whatever it was that had just appeared.

“Go ahead Angel.”

“Chiefs, the Captain requests that you both return if you’ve completed the tests? Mission update in the observation lounge ASAP.”

“Understood Angel, Koch is recovering at this time, Koch out.”

Spider pointed at the ungainly visitor and looked at Dingbat.
“10-1 this update just has to be something to do with that.”

The look they shared was ample comment on their thoughts as the Koch turned to return to Angel.

 

[Gibraltar]

I was sorry to see that Gabe Martello lost his struggle to come through his ordeal with the parasite alive, though if nothing else he is free from it’s clutches. Oh, and taking out some Section 31 types in the process doesn’t hurt matters any.

Nice staged performance from Dan and the others to keep the traitor in their midst in the dark as to his current detached operational capacity.

Gabby’s medical predicament is now complicated by the fact that they’ll have to break the news of her sister’s death to her, again, four years after the fact. However, it appears that it might be a psychological issue effecting her memory rather than physical damage, which could bode well for her eventual recovery.

A great chapter all the way around.

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 15

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.


Chapter 15

IMPERIAL LINES STARLINER I.S.C.S.OLYMPIC – TRANSPORTER ROOM 2
APPROACHING STARBASE 310 (CARDASSIAN BORDER REGION)
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1124 FST

As soon as Nan had stepped into the transporter room, she had detected an air of unrest that she really didn’t like. Petrie’s greeting certainly hadn’t helped.

“Ah Governor, glad you were able to join us. Perhaps now we can get some work done.”

Nan was on the verge of reminding Petrie about his place in the food chain, but before she had a chance, he turned away from her and began organising removal of their equipment to the processing area that had been set up in what had formerly been a casino on deck 5.

“Mr Petrie?” Nan attempted a civil tone despite her own immediate shock at being treated like an underling, but as he failed to even notice her call she raised her voice. “Mr Petrie, a moment of your time please, now.”

As he approached, she guided him to a quiet corner of the transporter room as the team continued to unpack their equipment.

“Governor, I hope this…”

Nan held her hand up and Petrie was silenced.
In a low voice that dripped ice, she said. “I rarely, very rarely Mr Petrie, play the seniority card in my discussions but then I even more rarely meet somebody who needs to be reminded.” Petrie made the mistake of opening his mouth to reply but Nan silenced him again. “I’m also not in the mood to be ignored or interrupted Mr Petrie, so listen carefully. You will treat me with the respect my position accords, you will use a civil tone when addressing anybody aboard this ship especially the refugees and you will, above all other things remember that you are working for the Federation in this matter. Do I make myself clear?”

Petrie’s face had turned ashen at the tongue lashing, and like many before him, he realised he had totally underestimated this woman.

“Yes Governor, I apologise. I’ve just had a rather harried…”

“I don’t want to hear it Mr Petrie.” Nan hadn’t raised her voice but the bite in it was perhaps more severe than even she had intended. “We’re about to process thousands of refugees who I can guarantee have had a damn sight worse time than you have. Do your job.”

She turned away from him without waiting for a reply and strode over to one of the auxiliary consoles to contact the bridge. For a moment he faltered, then quickly returned to his team to issue whispered instructions.

“Captain Dubois? Could you advise Starbase 310 that we’ll be ready to begin processing the refugees within the hour please?” Nan tried to calm herself, but it was obvious from her tone of voice that something was wrong.

“Certainly Governor. Is everything alright?”

Sighing heavily, she nodded. “I believe it is now Captain. My apologies, Bacco out.”

When she returned to the group, Petrie was conspicuous by his absence much to her relief. His attitude was one she had encountered many times in her career in politics and was one that she had never tolerated, and that applied to superiors as much as juniors. A young woman dressed in the formal uniform of customs and immigration interrupted her musings by offering her a PADD.

“Governor, I apologise on behalf of the team for any offence Mr Petrie may have caused.” Nant took the PADD and then the proffered hand of the young woman. “Jeanette Derring, I’m Mr Petrie’s assistant.”

“Then you have my sincere condolences and whatever you’re getting paid it’s not enough,” grinned Nan. “I don’t suppose you’d like to be my interface to Mr Petrie would you? I get the feeling that even as a planetary governor, the penalty for homicide is still the same.”

Derring unsuccessfully tried to hide a grin at her superior’s expense but failed. “Not a problem Ma’am. He can be a martinet, but he get’s the job done.”

Nan nodded. “I’m sure he does, though I personally believe there are more professional ways to do it.”

She looked over the PADD that had been given her carrying a complete schedule for the process. The refugees would be arriving via shuttle and transporter from both the planet and several transports in orbit. The fact that open conference areas aboard the Olympic and the Majestic had been set aside as beam in points would move things along so that they didn’t have to rely solely on the cruise liners transporters.

“This looks excellent thank you Jeanette. If you could contact me in my quarters when they’re all aboard I’d appreciate it.”

“Not a problem Ma’am.”

Nan headed back to her quarters hoping that her future contact with the abrasive Mr Petrie would be as limited as possible, though she somehow felt that was unlikely.


USS ANGEL – SCIENCE LAB 4
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1145 FST

“It would appear Ensign that you have done extremely well in such a short time. Congratulations.” T’Sell circled the platform where Chariscarpia’s body now stood. Vonny had wondered whether to clothe what was essentially an automaton at this point, but had eventually decided that there was little point.

“Thank you Ma’am, but it wasn’t all my work. Commander Data helped a great deal and there have been lots of people from other departments giving advice,” though she decided not to mention Anya’s offering.

“Commander Data advises me that he believes between Chariscarpia and himself they may have developed an answer to our neural net requirements.”

It was the one thing that had preyed on Vonny’s mind as she had worked on the body. Would it all be in vain if they couldn’t house Chariscarpia’s mind?

Fido bobbed around from behind one of the consoles, lights glowing a pale blue, and Vonny smiled. He had been a constant companion during the construction process and she had wondered more than once what he made of it all.

“Do we know when the neural net will be ready Ma’am?”

“Not yet Ensign, though I suspect that it will not be long. Time is the one thing that is not on our side at the moment.” T’Sell placed her hands behind her back and inclined her head to Vonny. “Good work Ensign.”

As T’Sell left the laboratory, Vonny turned to the little sphere.

“Almost there now Fido, almost there.” She closed down the interface panels and silently prayed that she was right.


USS ANGEL – OBSERVATION LOUNGE
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1151 FST

“Gentlemen I’d like to introduce you to 117 and 125 from the Brunel. 117, 125, these are my senior flight engineers.”

Spider and Dingbat shook hands with the diminutive Bynar pair that Kat had just introduced to them.

“It is an honour…”
“…to meet you both.”

Kat was hard pushed not to release one of her trademark guffaws at the look on her Chief’s faces. No matter how many of the delicate race one met, it still took a little while to adjust to their ability to finish each others sentences.

“They’ve brought the Rube Goldberg over from the Brunel and hopefully it’ll be of use in recovering the prow sections of Scorpion.”

Kat couldn’t help but notice the look that passed between the two Chiefs. They’d obviously seen the transformed shuttle outside.

“So who has the sense of humour in naming shuttles?” asked Spider. A Rube Goldberg was historically a machine that accomplished simple tasks in a very complicated way and it certainly looked as if the shuttle they’d just seen could fall into that category.

The Bynar pair turned to each other with a small smile and said “That…” “…would be us.”

“117 is a keen study of Human humour. He felt that the name was appropriate.”

“So what exactly is the, er, Rube supposed to do?”

Kat listened as the Bynar explained how the Rube Goldberg had been hastily thrown together on their last mission. The Brunel had been required to anchor a powerless starship with its tractors to prevent it slipping further into the gravity well of gas giant, but to actually free the stranded ship would require another tractor lock to swing it in orbit.
While the Brunel could maintain the stranded ship’s orbit for a short while, it couldn’t wait long enough for the arrival of a support vessel and so the Bynar had masterminded the hastily refashioned shuttle to carry a large tractor installation. However, the shuttles power reserves were too low to effectively energise and stabilise the tractor and so a temporary relay of power transmitters had been strung between the Brunel and the Rube allowing the remotely controlled shuttle to dip perilously low into the gravity well and swing the starship.

Kat had heard the story already from the Brunel’s captain, but she still marvelled at the ingenuity that abided in the SCE. Even Spider and Dingbat, despite their reservations about the shuttle’s appearance, were impressed.

“So you’re thinking we can pilot the Rube in close to the prow sections and tow them out?”

“That is correct…”
“…and there will be no risk to life in the shifting gravitic anomalies.”

Spider rubbed his chin and nodded thoughtfully. “Well apart from the awful aesthetics of the Rube, it sounds like a plan.” He looked at Dingbat who smiled enthusiastically.

“Will we need to set up the power relay again?”

Kat stood, smoothing her tunic. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got one or two things I need to deal with but it sounds like we at least have a working solution.”

“Seems that way Ma’am. We’ll let you know when we’ve ironed out the wrinkles.”

“I’d appreciate that Chief. Look after our guests here?”

“Wouldn’t want the ship’s hospitality ratings to drop Ma’am,” Spider grinned and immediately dived back into the technical discussion with the Bynars.

As she left the room, Kat tapped her commbadge and asked T’Sell to meet her in the ready room. Let’s hope the news is as good concerning Chariscarpia she thought.


DEEP SPACE

At its birth, the phenomena had been tiny but in just a short period of time it has grown rapidly to encompass a volume of space roughly equal to that of Earth. Visually however, it remains a pearlescent spot of wavering light, its surrounding field of effect invisible to the naked eye.

Even now, pseudo pods of energy are working their way into subspace distorting the order of its fabric infinitesimally. Around their rupture points, chroniton particles swirl and eddy and the temporal anomaly pulses with an energy feeding from somewhere beyond its interface with real space.

Right now it is this invisible field that is the most dangerous. With its disruption of local subspace and its ability to trap starships almost like amber, vessels transiting the area are in severe jeopardy.

And it continues to expand.


USS CHAMBERLAIN – HANGAR BAY ANNEXE
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1206 FST

Anderson looked up the ceiling of the hangar bay as the lights flickered once again, the third time in perhaps fifteen minutes. He walked over to a wall panel, opening a comm link to the bridge.

“Bridge, Lieutenant Brightling.”

“Lieutenant, this is Colonel Anderson in the main hangar bay. We seem to be having some problems down here power wise, were you aware?”

“Standby Sir.”

The young lieutenant’s voice was shortly replaced by that of the Chamberlain’s captain.

“Colonel, my apologies, we’re getting fluctuations in the power grid centred around the hangar bay. I think for safety’s sake it might be prudent to move you to another location.”

Anderson looked through the open door at the atmospheric shield. Naturally it had built in safeguards in the event of power failure but why take the risk?

“If you have somewhere in mind Captain, we’ll need a little while to move our gear.”

“Actually Colonel, as long as you have no equipment that is transporter sensitive, we can transport you site to site.”

Anderson looked at each member of the team who nodded to confirm that the gear in their charge was safe.

“Thank you Captain Sannat, that’s appreciated, I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”

The Chamberlain wasn’t a large vessel, but any chance to avoid dragging their gear around the ship was welcome.

“Acknowledged Colonel, bridge out.”

“Alright people, time to move home again. Let’s stack the gear.”

Alexander looked at Anderson with a wry grin. “Not really our week is it?”

“Well let’s hope that things start to change,” he replied. In more ways than one.


USS ANGEL – MEDCENTRE ONE
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1212 FST

Despite Anthony’s own training in the field, he’d called in the Angel’s senior counsellor, Lieutenant Commander Geri Hamble, to discuss the situation of Gabby Escher.

“What slightly worries me here is the type of amnesia we’re talking about.”

“That’s really why I wanted your opinion Geri. There are elements of both hysterical and retrograde amnesia here.”

Hysterical amnesia was usually triggered by a traumatic event with which the mind found it difficult to deal. In this case it could either be the accident that killed Gabby’s sister, or the crash that had almost taken her own life.

Usually in cases of hysterical amnesia, the memory slowly or suddenly returned a few days later, although memory of the trauma could remain incomplete forever.

Retrograde amnesia, however, was usually brought on by the head injuries themselves rather than the psychological aspect of the accident and involved loss of memory prior to the incident.

Hamble pursed her lips. “I suspect the former rather than the latter doctor. Retrograde might give us the memory loss but I don’t recall it ever extending back four or so years except in very rare cases. I think that’s where the second clue lays, the fact that the amnesia links back to a previous event of much the same nature.”

Anthony stood and paced the room, distractedly straightening pictures or souvenirs on the shelves. “Geri, I’d like your advice.”

“It’s yours for what its worth.”

Anthony smiled at the counsellor. He admired her total lack of pretension and her ability to cut through the often confusing meanderings of the human mind to work at the root of a patient’s psychological problem.

“I really don’t want to delay work on her spine Geri, not if I can avoid it. The problem is that I’ll need her conscious for much of the time and it’s obvious that questions are going to arise about the accident.”

She returned his smile. “I suspect doctor slash counsellor, you’ve already reached the answer you need but in my humble opinion, it might be beneficial to have both physical and mental work progress simultaneously.” Studying the PADD with Gabby’s records on it she pointed out several pages. “She’s young, physically in her prime and being an aerospace pilot demands a certain fortitude of mind Anthony so I’d say she’s a prime candidate for recovery.”

“Always nice to have somebody second your plan of treatment though.” He sat down behind his desk once more resting his elbows on its immaculately polished surface. “You don’t think that one treatment will affect the other?”

“Actually, I believe they may reinforce each other. Her drive to recover mobility will be as strong as her need to recover her memory, because only when she has both will she be able to get back in the cockpit of a fighter.”

“Then I believe,” he grinned rubbing his hands together, “we have a plan of action. When would you be able to start counselling?”

She stood and placed the PADD on Anthony’s desk. “If you need to get her spinal work underway as soon as possible, I guess there’s no time like the present.”

“Thank you Geri, I appreciate this.” Now all he needed to do was talk to Lieutenant Richmond.


SHUTTLE BERWICK
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1304 FST

Dan had halted the shuttle and was scanning the immediate vicinity. The plasma trail which had already switch backed unpredictably had ended in a cloud of debris and gases.

Some of the debris was easily identifiable as coming from the type of freighter that Gabriel had been aboard, but there were other more exotic fragments in the mix as well. He’d beamed aboard a panel composed of reinforced duranium, not uncommon in itself, but it was coated with a sensor refractive layer the likes of which he hadn’t seen before.

There were no sensor readings indicating weapons discharge yet there was definitely evidence of a hull breach here which hadn’t yet dissipated. Whatever had taken place here hadn’t happened long ago.

Adjusting the sensors further out along the projected course of the Leech, he was frustrated to find that they were being distorted, by what he didn’t yet know. All he had now were his own instincts.

“Time for a leap of faith then,” he mused and slowly opened up impulse power to follow what he hoped was the course of Gabriel’s ship.


USS ANGEL – SCIENCE LAB 4
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1309 FST

Kat was amazed to find just how much work had been done since her last visit to the lab. Chariscarpia’s body now lay on a diagnostic bed. A web of fibre optic cables connected it to surrounding monitoring equipment and if it hadn’t have been for the top of its skull being eerily open, it would have been easy to imagine that Chariscarpia was there, merely sleeping.

It was all the more strange to hear the alien woman’s voice issue from a comm panel on the opposite side of the lab as she joined the conference circuit that now included Commander Data from the Academy.

“Well now that we’re all here, in spirit at least, what’s the news Commander Data?” Kat folded her arms and self-consciously crossed her fingers out of sight.

“I believe Captain that we are close to a break through. Chariscarpia has provided me with some interesting insights into work that her people had already begun over two hundred years ago.”

“The problem is Captain,” interjected Chariscarpia, “I’m not a quantum physicist. My expertise in scientific matters lies along somewhat different avenues so my information is anecdotal at best.”

Kat asked the one question that she knew was the driving factor behind their work here. “How’s our schedule?”

“We are still on a very tight timetable Captain but I have been able to advise Chariscarpia about measures she can take to limit the chance of degradation.” He paused momentarily. “Even so Captain, it would be preferable to begin work sooner rather than later.”

Kat nodded and turned unconsciously to face the comm panel. “Chariscarpia, the choice in this matter has to be yours.”

“Thank you Captain, I understand. While we have the luxury of time to perfect our technique then we would be wise to use it, but whatever the case, if time runs out then I am ready to submit to the procedure.”

Kat uncrossed her fingers. “In that case ladies and gentlemen, good luck.”

It seemed such a trivial thing to say, Kat reflected as she headed back to the bridge, but she knew that there really was nothing more she could add.

 

[unusualsuspex]

A drabble/teaser!

As you may or may not know, there are several vignettes on my website that look at the back stories for some of my characters and there are several stories still to tell.

However, one story that is more a "Flashforward" (brilliant TV series BTW!) to the forthcoming Dominion War than a flashback to the peace before, has been floating around in my head for a while.

Herewith, a teaser for that story, TOOTH & CLAW


"WE WISH TO FIGHT BESIDE YOU"

The tall Tzenkethi, his tail twitching dangerously, looked deeply into the eyes of Admiral Leonard James Akaar, defying him to deny the warrior the chance to defend his new home.

Akaar stood and without flinching said "And should I tell you that is not possible?"

"Then we shall fight anyway. This is our home now Admiral and we will protect all that we have sacrificed to build here."

Gods but I wish I had a hundred thousand more of you thought Akaar. Carefully avoiding baring his teeth in the Tzenkrthi sign of challenge, he smiled at the warrior.

"Then defend it you will Kazzan. There are conditions, and you should know that I have had to lay my own honour on the line to provide you this chance. Fight well."

 

[Gibraltar]

Fishlock closes in on the parasite as something mysterious takes shape elsewhere. You’re sustaining multiple plot threads very well here, and holding the readers’ interest across all vectors. Great stuff!

 

[unusualsuspex]

ERRATA! Sorry, I totally missed the fact that the Bynars names (intended as place holders) weren't changed!

They should read 1100 and 1101.

Well, I was tired

 

[unusualsuspex]

To all who've PM'd me, thank you!

New chapters as we head towards the climax will be up this week!!

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 16

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.


Chapter 16

USS ANGEL – FLIGHT DECK OPERATIONS OFFICE
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1340 FST

“And the whole show can be run from here?” Dingbat was incredulous.

“It could be run…”

“…from your quarters if you desired.”

Spider held up his hand to forestall Dingbat’s obvious ‘desire’ for that idea.

“So what are its limitations…er…?” Spider knew that the Bynars were sexless due to genetic clone engineering so the term lady or gentleman would be a total misnomer. Fortunately 1100 stepped in to save his embarrassment.

“Range possibly…”

“…and power consumption…” continued 1101.

“…though we are refining both as we work.”

He was starting to feel as if he was watching a table tennis game every time the diminutive pair spoke and decided to push on quickly with the work before he became giddy.

“Alright, well this terminal is all yours. Let’s see how she works.”

The pair stepped forward to the console and at Spider’s encouraging nod began programming it for the Rube. As a race, the Bynars were heavily integrated into their planetary computer network and as a consequence their native language was as much computer code as speech. The advantage was that as a pair they could communicate much more quickly with a great deal less ambiguity than almost any other computer specialists in the quadrant. It had become a matter of course that any major computer requisition was now being handled by Bynars.

Starfleet had naturally shown an interest in utilising Bynar expertise though so far that had only been in the form of civilian specialists and advisors. As of yet, there were no Bynars in Starfleet.

T’Sell arrived in the ops office just as the programming of the terminal was being completed and stood silently as the final parameters and equations were entered.

“Commander,” nodded Spider. “Our guests are just finishing up here before we send the Rube out for a test flight.”

“Remarkably fast work,” she mused almost distractedly. “I actually came down to speak with Ensign Dixon, but I see that she is not here.”

Dingbat shook his head and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s down in Hildr speaking with Chariscarpia.”

The Bynar pair stepped back from the console, their computerised chatter falling silent.

“The reprogramming of the terminal…”

“…is now complete. We are…”

“…ready to begin.”

Making a decision that she would claim was based on logic, but which she knew was part hunch, T’Sell stepped forward and the Bynar looked at her with guileless eyes.

“My name is Commander T’Sell. I am the Angel’s Chief Science Officer.”

1100 inclined its head. “A pleasure Commander. I am 1100…”

“…and I am 1101.”

T’Sell wasn’t especially tall, but even she looked down to talk to the small specialists and had the unnerving feeling that she was discussing quantum physics with small children.

“Would it be possible to speak with you before you return to the Brunel? I have an important project which I feel you may be able to offer some help with.”

“Of course Commander…”

“…it would be our pleasure.”

T’Sell thanked them and the Chiefs before heading out of the office to find Vonny.

Spider looked at Dingbat and shrugged then turned his attention to the terminal. “Ok, time for pilot school. Let’s see what the Rube’s got.”


IMPERIAL LINES STARLINER I.S.C.S.OLYMPIC – TRANSPORTER ROOM 2
STARBASE 310 (CARDASSIAN BORDER REGION)
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1347 FST

In a matter of a few hours refugees had inundated the cruise liners, each being immediately fast tracked through the immigration process. The Hercules, having a smaller capacity, had already been filled to its limits and her occupants were settling in for the long haul out to Cestus III and a new life.

Nan had watched the process while trying to stay out of the way as the refugees first checked in with documents and ID, were signed on to the roster and detailed accommodation for the journey. Many had little more than the baggage they carried, an often pitiful collection of items that represented the sum of their lives.

It was also apparent that many of them, even the children, were sporting bandages and casts, remnants of injuries acquired while fleeing Cardassian space and recently treated aboard Starbase 310. Nan knew that once they had arrived on Cestus III, their lot would be much better but she realised that wouldn’t alleviate the misery and suffering that was so evident right now.

“Heart breaking isn’t it?” Jeanette had quietly appeared at her side carrying the latest PADD full of updates which she handed to Nan.

“Even when you’ve seen it more than once Jeanette.” As Nan scanned the list, she stopped and scrolled back in disbelief. “What’s this?”

“Ah, yes. The team felt that perhaps that was something you could deal with at, shall we say, an ‘executive’ level?”

It appeared that despite instructions, Petrie had assigned unaltered luxury suites to the whole team and Nan was furious.

“Just so you’re aware Ma’am, the majority of the team have ignored the listings to give up eight of the berths for conversion.”

Nan took a moment to try and calm herself before replying.

“Jeanette, could you pass on my thanks to those people who have kindly complied with the request. I’d also appreciate it if you could ask Mr Petrie to attend my office promptly please.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, not trusting her own ability to control her temper. That wasn’t something she would trouble herself with at the forthcoming meeting with Petrie however.


SHUTTLE BERWICK
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1418 FST

Dan at last had a confirmed sensor lock on the Leech, now stationary some 5000 metres away, but sensor readings were almost totally useless in a maelstrom of false echoes and unreliable returns that the computer was not readily able to identify.

There was an abundance of chroniton particles flooding the area which was cause for concern. Not on a personal level, at least not yet. Chroniton particles were more likely to be harmful to the shuttle than they were to him, but even so the less time he spent here the better.

He pulsed the thrusters to move him out to starboard and closer to the Leech and what looked like the shuttle that had been caught on the Picador’s sensors. Neither ship appeared to be in a safe condition, twisted and interlocked as they were. When he returned his attention back to the controls, he noted that the Berwick was reacting very sluggishly to his inputs.

“Computer, is there a problem with the thrusters?”

“Negative. Thrusters are operating at 103% efficiency.”

“Scan surrounding area for any other possible causes of manoeuvring problems.”

“Working.”

Whilst the Berwick was still moving, it was almost as if it were through some thick, viscous liquid.

“Scan complete. Sensors indicate that the temporal anomaly at 001/074, range 5000km, is projecting a field of unknown quantum effect. Combined with the chroniton particle concentration, it appears to be affecting both space and subspace with temporal distortions of varying degrees.”

That didn’t sound good. Dan hurriedly activated the controls and began a slow withdrawal from what he hoped was a limited area of space. Again the response was sluggish but at least he was moving. He turned his attention back to the computer.

“Computer, why wasn’t this field detected before we ran into it?” Dan was more than a little worried that the field could have been something far worse and he’d have been into it without warning. When there was no response, he asked the question again. After several seconds of silence though, he began to become concerned.

“Computer?”

“Error in sublogic, there is no holodeck aboard this shuttle.”

What? “Computer, run self diagnostic.”

“Unable to comply. System is at maximum capacity. Please wait.”

Dan pulled up a diagnostic screen and saw that indeed the computer was running at maximum capacity, but what it was doing was a mystery. He switched to sensors and performed a manual scan of surrounding space. The chroniton levels were falling and the Berwick appeared to be picking up speed so he monitored the system for several minutes without making any further inputs.

Eventually, having withdrawn almost 500km from his previous position, the chroniton particle field dissipated completely and the Berwick’s helm once again answered positively. He halted the shuttle’s retreat and sat silently for a moment, the event having shaken him more than he’d realised.

“Computer, confirm status.” He mentally crossed his fingers as he awaited the reply.

“Computer is standing by for input.”

“Scan for temporal anomalies.”

After a few seconds in which the computer scanned local space, it replied with, “There are no temporal anomalies within scanning range. Intermediate chroniton particle field detected at 000 mark 002, range 1500 metres.”

First there was a temporal anomaly, now there wasn’t. He looked up to the shuttles overhead and spoke again.

“Computer, scan co-ordinates 001/074 out to maximum range.”

Again there was the briefest of pauses. “Sensors detect a temporal anomaly at 001/074, range 5500km.It is projecting a field of unknown quantum effect. Combined with the chroniton particle concentration, it appears to be affecting both space and subspace with temporal distortions of varying degrees.”

Dan placed his head in his hands. This really was not good, he decided. So many operations aboard any ship were handled by the computer that to have it malfunction was a disaster waiting to happen. Setting the thrusters to station keeping, he considered his options.

By the book, he would need to perform a system reboot before the problem became worse. Of course he then ran the risk that the system simply wouldn’t come back up. In reality, he knew that he didn’t dare move until he was certain that he could rely on the computer once more.

“Damn it I don’t have time for this!” he shouted.

“Please restate the question.”

His decision made, Dan brought up the system diagnostic screen and tapped in the commands for a complete system reboot. He paused momentarily before hitting the execute pad but knew he had no alternative.

“Computer emergency reboot commencing. System offline for approximately three hours. Life support will be maintained.”

“WAIT! Computer stop previous command!” Three hours? Dan knew a complete cold reboot should take less than 30 minutes, but it was too late. The system was now out of his control and he wondered belatedly whether it would ever be back.


USS ANGEL – FLIGHT DECK OPERATIONS OFFICE
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1420 FST

Spider and Dingbat had found that the interface prepared by the Bynars had simply been the recreation of a shuttle flight control panel with one or two minor additions. Even so, remote control of the shuttle had taken a little mastering.

For a start, the mass of the shuttle with its additional tractor emplacement had affected its handling characteristics to a certain extent. Then there was the toggling of views around the vessel that would normally be accomplished by the pilot simply turning his head. It all added up to a slightly higher workload and a different work ethic.

It was eventually decided that Dingbat would handle the tractor operations while Spider flew the mission. A small line of power transfer remotes were stretched between the Angel and the shuttle to supply the extra power that might be needed to boost the tractor and haul out the sections of Scorpion’s prow, and the mission commenced.

The flight out to the tumbling asteroid field was relatively uneventful with Spider becoming more confident with Rube’s characteristics all the time. The former site of the spatial rift was a different matter though. The advent of the rift had caused local sub-space fractures which, even now that the rift was closed, were still healing. Gravitic variations in real space were shifting the asteroids in random, rapidly changing patterns while the volatile layers of fractured sub-space were having their own effect. Spider halted the Rube and turned to the Bynars.

“I'll be honest, I think I’ve reached my limits looking at that mess so it’s probably best if the experts take over. Dingbat?”

Much as Dingbat relished the challenge presented by recovering the sections of ship, he too saw that he was probably out of his depth.

“Yea, that’s fine by me. A little more practice though and we coulda had them.”

Spider rolled his eyes. “Your optimism knows no bounds does it?” He shook his head and stood to allow the Bynars access. “It’s all yours.”

“Thank you Chief…”

“…this hopefully won’t take long.”

Spider watched in amazement as the pair communicated in the high pitched squeal of the Bynar language, interfacing directly with the terminal. The movements of the Rube became smooth and almost delicate and Spider raised his eyebrows at Dingbat.

“Ok,” he replied quietly. “A lot more practice.”


IMPERIAL LINES STARLINER I.S.C.S.OLYMPIC – REFUGEE CO-ORDINATION OFFICE
STARBASE 310 (CARDASSIAN BORDER REGION)
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1437 FST

Petrie had arrived at the office completely unaware of what the problem may be. It seemed to him that everything so far was going as smoothly as could be expected considering how awkward some of the refugees had been.

“Governor, you wished to see me?”

Nan looked up from her desk with a smile. Perhaps it’s a congratulations and not a reprimand after all he thought.

Nan made a show of checking the chrono on the wall before speaking.

“Mr Petrie, thank you for attending so…promptly. Do we have an updated departure time?” Her tone was civil and her face gave nothing away as Petrie scanned his ever present PADD.

“Ah, yes Governor. Things have progressed quite quickly. We should be ready for departure in about an hour.”

Nan stood and walked slowly around to the front of her desk before leaning back on it, arms folded.

“Excellent, which means you have about that amount of time to get your things together and leave the ship.”

Petrie’s smile froze on his face as his mind frantically attempted to shift gear.

“Leave? I…but I don’t…”

Nan gave him little time to begin his usual round of bluster and standing up straight released the anger and frustration that had built up in her since first meeting him.

“Mr Petrie, I’ve only known you for a matter of hours and in that time I have seen you abuse your staff, the refugees and myself apparently content that your position allows, even justifies, that kind of attitude. I’m here to tell you it doesn’t.” Despite being a head shorter than Petrie she walked towards him as the tirade continued. “Now I find out that you believe your position allows you to claim a full berth as your right! Well no longer Mr Petrie.”

Petrie’s face had become ashen under the verbal onslaught and as Nan placed a finger on his chest, she honestly believed he was about to faint.

“As of this moment, your duties are delegated to Miss Derring who, with my authority, is promoted to Director of Operations.”

“You can’t do…”

“I can and I have! If you choose to stay you will work as her assistant but don’t feel obliged. You know where the exit is.”

Nan turned around and sat back at her desk, quickly becoming engrossed in a PADD detailing routing and journey schedule. For some time there was no sound, though eventually she heard the doors hissing open then closed again signalling Petrie’s departure. It was only after he left that Nan sat back in the chair massaging her temples where a headache the size of Starbase 310 had taken up residence.

She had no idea whether Petrie would stay or not and frankly, right now she didn’t care. The priority was the smooth and dignified transfer of people who had gone through quite enough and Petrie had so far been an obstacle to that.

At least he has the choice she thought. Stay and work for his pension or get out.


USS ANGEL – MEDCENTRE ONE
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 14th 2371 – 1449 FST

Anthony Winston spoke quietly to Homer and hoped that Geri Hamble had got it right when she suggested that Homer be allowed to visit Gabby. Anthony was well aware that the two young people had recently become an item and it seemed that, despite a brave front, the young lieutenant was finding it difficult to face this first meeting.

For him it would be a reunion with the young woman he knew and had begun to fall in love with. Gabby would only see a stranger.

“Is there anything I should…I don’t know…avoid saying?”

“Gabby is aware that she has memory loss and she’s also aware of how much. Remember that she’s still coming to terms with that, but she’s still the same person Homer.”

He sighed but nodded then made his way into the private bay. His smile on seeing Gabby was sheepish but genuine.

“Hey. I’d ask how you were but you’re in sick bay.”

Oh, nice opening pitch Homer.

Gabby’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled, Homer glad to see that the burns to her face only showed now as rapidly fading pink.

“You must be the handsome Lieutenant Richmond the counsellor warned me about.” She eyed a nearby chair, the spinal stasis preventing any further movement. “Excuse me if I don’t get up.”

Homer grabbed the chair and straddled it backwards beside the biobed. How the hell do I pry open that memory Gabby? “So other than the obvious, how are you feeling?”

Gabby gave a somewhat mirthless chuckle. “Perhaps I should be asking you that question.”

He leaned his elbow on the back of the chair and placed his chin on his hand. The Doc had told him to speak honestly with Gabby, and with a slight smile he said “I gotta confess I’m generally the king of weird but this is a whole new ball game for me.”

“Yep, weird does kind of cover it. The bizarre thing is I’ve apparently had amnesia before and now I can’t remember it.”

The line was so unexpected that Homer suddenly burst out laughing. “Well at least the dodgy docs round here didn’t amputate your sense of humour!”

******

Anthony stepped quietly away from the door to the bay as the young couple’s conversation became more relaxed and less fraught with the unknown. It seemed that Geri’s decision had been the right one after all as he heard a snort of laughter from the ward.

His hope now was that the young pilot might just prove to be the key to unlocking her lost years and that her spirit, so far resolute, would maintain her the rest of the way.

Perhaps not out of the woods yet, but at least it looked as if they’d found the path again.

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 17

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.


Chapter 17

SCORPION PROW SECTION ONE
ZETHANDER – FAR ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1505 FST

The recovery of the first prow section had been almost flawless in its execution, the two Bynars working with the kind of synchronicity that a human team could never match.
The connection to the shuttle had been lost twice during the operation but quickly re-established and the power chain had worked perfectly drawing a stream of transmitted energy from the Angel’s mighty reserves, down the chain of repeaters to the Rube.

Now clear of the threat of asteroids, away teams led by Angel’s Chief of Security Lieutenant Commander Vin DeSalle had been beamed aboard the first surviving section of Chariscarpia’s once pristine and immense vessel. Amazingly they had found that despite the traumatic separation of the prow by the closing spatial rift, pressure tight bulkheads had sealed perfectly and maintained an atmosphere which, although slightly stale without recycling, was breathable.

“Away team to Angel, location secure. You can send in the remaining teams.”

“Acknowledged Commander. Chariscarpia will be online shortly but she’s told us that as far as she can recall there should be no hazardous materials stored in either section.”

He nodded for the security teams to fan out and await the engineers and scientists who were about to arrive. As they sparkled into existence at the centre of the atrium they were standing in, he waited for Chariscarpia to join the commlink. Having been here once before, he was fairly certain that he wouldn’t recognise something genuinely useful even if he tripped over it so Chariscarpia’s guidance was essential.

His thoughts were interrupted as a small beep announced that Chariscarpia had now joined the link.

“Commander DeSalle, this is Chariscarpia.”

DeSalle could almost imagine the graceful alien woman standing nearby as she had often done before the Borg incident, so clear was her voice.

“Good afternoon Ma’am. We’re currently aboard what appears to be the starboard prow of Scorpion. Is there anything we should specifically be looking for here?”

There was the slightest tinkle of laughter from Chariscarpia drawing a small smile from DeSalle.

“You’ll hate me for saying this Commander but I’m not entirely certain. There are laboratories and several storage areas in that section along with several decks of accommodation. I believe we will have to take this a step, or rather a deck, at a time.”

He nodded as if she were present and asked where she thought they should begin.

“I believe you are in one of the central junctions that are located on each deck. Can you see a large central corridor leading forward?”

He turned around to face what would have been the front of the ship seeing a wide avenue lined with slightly dehydrated looking greenery.

“Yes Ma’am, there’s a bright red marker line broader than those that lead to the smaller corridors. Stand by please.”

Turning back to the security officers behind him, he pointed at the big Remvellian brevet-ensign whose epithet of LJ was a lot easier on the larynx than his given name of ElJayxan Xantharik.

“LJ, you’re point. Link the head cam into the comm and we’ll give Chariscarpia a feed.”

“Aye Sir,” he rumbled and switched on the head mounted holocam before moving up to the head of the exploration team.

“Do you have that Ma’am?”

“Indeed Commander, thank you.” There was a moments silence before Chariscarpia said, “The first door on the left is a storage area Commander. It would be worth tagging it for further inspection after our primary exploration.”

DeSalle nodded, his shadow exaggerated in the wavering cross beams of palm lights. Stepping forward he placed a marker tag against the door then fell in behind LJ once more.

The process continued for some 30 minutes with random doors being tagged worthy of further investigation while others were ignored being utility rooms or simple monitoring sections. Eventually they reached the forward end of the prow, entering an atrium very similar to the one they had started in.

This one differed by having a huge transparisteel analogue window giving a sweeping view of the asteroid field, the distant Zethander and the continuing recovery work on the second prow section.

“Without power Commander, you will need to access the service shafts located on the wall opposite the viewport. They are the panels outlined in red.”

It was only now, despite having been here once before when the ship was whole, that DeSalle began to get some idea of how immense the ship had once been.

“Got them Ma’am.” Placing his fists on his hips he studied the area and considered his next move. “Actually before we proceed further, I think I’d like to get another engineering team over and rig up some portable power. I get the feeling we’ll be here for a while.”

“Angel copies that Commander, rustling a team up now.” Kat Gray had responded that time, obviously monitoring the link. “Is there anything else you might need?”

“Another twenty teams might be useful Ma’am, but other than that I don’t think so.”

Kat chuckled. “Not gonna happen Commander but we’ll bear you in mind if we get any spare bodies. Engineering team should be arriving shortly.”

“Appreciated Ma’am. Chariscarpia?”

“Go ahead Commander.”

“While we’re setting up a decent power supply I’ll get the teams to start investigating the rooms we’ve already tagged. At least it’ll be a start.”

“I shall be here if you require me Commander, and thank you for your efforts.”

“No problem Ma’am, DeSalle out.”

He turned just in time to catch the dying sparkle of the transporter and immediately set about organising the teams at his disposal. Once they had light and a second recharge source for tools and air recirculation, he was hoping that the task wouldn’t be quite as Herculean as it appeared at the moment, though he had serious doubts.


IMPERIAL LINES STARLINER I.S.C.S.OLYMPIC – BRIDGE
DEPARTING CARDASSIAN BORDER REGION
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1535 FST

Nan had watched as first the Hercules and then the Majestic had departed at five minute intervals as per their flight plans and now observed the bridge crew swing into action for their own departure.

“Sector control reports our clearance valid for departure Ma’am.”

“Thank you Mr Edison. Conn, all ahead one half impulse to the marker buoys. Report ready for warp. XO, please advise our guests that we’re breaking orbit.”

Captain Dubois turned to Nan and smiled. “I suspect there may be one or two smiles downstairs right now.”

On the forward viewscreen, the stars wheeled before Nan as the mighty liner turned on to her outbound heading.

“Perhaps,” she replied quietly, “though I suspect many of those smiles may be bitter sweet. They all accept they’re moving to a good home Captain, but given better circumstances I think many would have been happier to stay put.”

Dubois inclined her head in acknowledgement but wasn’t perturbed. “We both know, Governor, that life doesn’t always give us the things we ask for. As long as it gives us what we need then complaints will be few.”

“Stop philosophising and start captaining Captain,” laughed Nan. “There’s only so much wisdom a politician can take in one day.”

Dubois laughed in response and with a jaunty salute turned back to the task of seeing her vessel out of orbit. Nan meanwhile had duties of her own to carry out with an inter ship broadcast to the convoy of almost 14,000 refugees spread among the three ships. With the two liners from Trans Quadrant Shipping due to arrive at Starbase 310 within two hours, a total of 25,000 refugees would be en route to Cestus III to begin a new life.

With Petrie having stayed aboard – a surprise provoking mixed emotions for Nan – and taken a very low profile, the day was getting better by the minute.

Long may it last she thought.

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 17 (cont)

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.


Chapter 17


USS CHAMBERLAIN – CARGO DECK
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1540 FST

On the cargo deck of the Chamberlain, a semblance of routine had returned to the remaining members of Team Six.
Captain Sannat had provided a team of engineers to connect the SpecOps team’s equipment into the ships net and since then it had been a case of monitoring their progress in trailing the Leech.

Anderson was midway through compiling a mission update when Burgess called him excitedly.Striding across to the makeshift suite, he looked at the displays. “What have we got?”

“It’s the Leech and she’s dead in space! We’ve got him!”

Simultaneously, his commbadge beeped for attention. Tapping it, he responded “Anderson.”

“Colonel, Captain Sannat. I believe you will already have seen your target, what are your orders.”

Anderson paused for a moment. “Stand off Captain if you would, keep him at the limit of sensor range please.”

He heard Sannat order a full stop and the helm’s response in the background.

“Alice, any sign at all of that other shuttle?”

Working her controls, she performed a sensor sweep utilising the information they’d managed to garner from the brief encounter with the mystery ship. Eventually she shook her head.

“If he’s out there, I can’t see him. It might be he’s beaten us to it?”

Turning his attention back to the open commlink, he looked to the overhead. “Captain Sannat, hold position please. One of my team will feed a set of readings to your ops console. It contains information on a vessel we’ve encountered before so I’d appreciate it if you could monitor for any signs of it?”

“Acknowledged Colonel. Advise me of any further requirements, Sannat out.”

Anderson was all action again after the quiet of the past few hours. Like any professional service person, sitting and waiting wasn’t the easiest thing to do.

“Alright, he’s out there and unless we find out otherwise I’m going to operate on the assumption that the artefact is still aboard. Suggestions people?”

“His shields are up Sir so…” Burgess never got to finish her sentence as her console beeped with a contact warning, the red alert lights started flashing around the bay and Anderson’s commbadge trilled, all simultaneously.

“Anderson”.

“Colonel your unidentified vessel has just been partially detected bearing 133 mark 47. He is obviously using some type of stealth technology to avoid sensor coverage but he is there.”

Anderson hurried over to the team console and studied the readouts. “Got him Captain. I assume his sensor dodging precludes a weapons lock?”

“Affirmative Colonel, at least for now.”

“Standby Captain.” Anderson quickly turned to Burgess. “Liaise with the bridge, get some jamming of our own going, see if we can’t confuse him.”

“On it.”

“Nathan, get the EVA…” Anderson turned to see Paul with his arm around Alexander’s throat and a phaser to his temple.

“What the hell are you doing Adrian?”

Paul smiled thinly at his former commander. “Endgame Colonel, or at least it will be shortly.”

“Abe!” It was Burgess, the sound of disbelief evident in her voice. “Chamberlain’s shields are dropping!”

“Ah, yes, that’ll be me. Colonel, Alice step away from the console please.”

Paul, his grip still tight around Alexander’s neck and the phaser unwavering, followed them as they moved. “I would advise calm and careful consideration Colonel before you attempt whatever you’re currently considering. I assure you, the phaser isn’t set to stun.”

Paul’s whole demeanour had changed from the professional non-comm to something completely unpleasant.

“For the satisfaction of my own curiosity, I’ll repeat my earlier question Adrian. What the hell are you doing?”

Paul ushered them into a corner of the cargo bay before answering, forcing Burgess to apply plastic tie wraps around Anderson’s wrists and ankles before binding her own ankles.

“Forgive me if I don’t supply you with complete satisfaction Colonel. Suffice to say the people I work for…”

“Presumably the ones in our mystery ship?” Anderson gritted his teeth in frustration but tried to remain calm, not willing to let Paul have the satisfaction of seeing him discomfited.

“The same.” He pushed Alexander into the corner and had Burgess apply the wraps to him as well. Never once did the phaser point anywhere other than at one of his former team mates. “They’re people who are willing, and I might add eminently capable, of using that artefact against the Dominion. Satisfied?”

Alexander looked at Paul in disbelief. “The Dominion? We’re not even at war with them yet!”

“Trust me Nathan, if that artefact is used correctly, we never will be.” He pulled his commbadge from his chest and thumbed a small contact on the back before activating it. “Tango 1, Tango 0, standing by for extraction.”

When there was no immediate reply he thumbed the commbadge again.

“Tango 1, Tango 0, standing by for extraction.”

Anderson smiled, relishing the moment. “Looks like your friends are more interested in the artefact than they are in you Adrian.”

Paul swung the phaser to point directly at Anderson, but he didn’t flinch.

“If you’re going to use that thing I suggest you do it before you piss me off any more.”

Alexander and Burgess stared at Anderson in disbelief. The look on Paul’s face was not a great deal different.

“I’d like to say it was a pleasure working with you Colonel, but to be honest you couldn’t think your way out of a Ferengi amusement arcade.” He thumbed the trigger and the look of anger on his face froze as precisely nothing happened.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that Adrian. Captain Sannat, if you wouldn’t mind?”

The room around them - cargo pallets, equipment and all - fizzled before melting out of existence to reveal the yellow grid of a holodeck. Paul’s face became livid as the phaser he’d been holding similarly dissipated. Anderson’s smiling face was probably the last thing he saw before he was taken down by the first security officer through the holodeck entrance.

It took every ounce of Anderson’s control not to give Paul’s still form a kick where it lay on the deck. Conscientious objectors he could understand and even cowards could be pardoned but in the world of Colonel Abe Anderson, traitors were the bottom feeders who didn’t deserve the skin they’d been born in.

Sannat appeared at the door of the holodeck, an eyebrow raised in question. “I assume then that the deception was sufficient Colonel?”

“Unfortunately so Captain. Thank you for your patience.” He pointed at Paul’s still form. “I suggest you get your CMO to check him for concealed suicide items before he’s allowed to regain consciousness.”

Burgess and Alexander had been following, or attempting to follow, the ongoing conversation with mouths open. When Anderson turned to help them to their feet, the plastic ties having disappeared with the rest of the ersatz equipment, he had the grace to appear contrite.

“So all this, the transport from the hangar deck to here, was in aid of uncovering him?” Alexander was unsuccessfully trying to piece together the subterfuge that had led to Paul revealing himself as the traitor.

Anderson sighed as medtechs arrived to carry Paul out to sickbay. “To uncover the traitor at least. I’m sorry to both of you; we had no idea of the identity of the person who had betrayed us so naturally you all had to be included.”

“And Dan?” It was Burgess who had finally caught a glimmer of the somewhat convoluted plan.

The question had a galvanising effect on Anderson. “He’s out there right now doing the job that Paul was preventing us from doing. Captain Sannat, I believe its time we got back on the trail. I’ll deal with Paul later.”

Sannat had remained quiet until now but when he spoke, his deep voice was tinged with regret. “Unfortunately Colonel, the situation is more complicated than that.”

“In what way complicated Captain?” Anderson’s voice had taken on a dangerous edge which in no way fazed the stoic Vulcan.

“Captain Fishlock’s shuttle cannot be detected on sensors Colonel and we are unable to contact him. Furthermore, the trail which could have led us to him has dissipated to the extent that it is useless as a guide. To all intents and purposes Colonel, Captain Fishlock has disappeared.”


SHUTTLE BERWICK
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1635 FST

If the computer was to be believed in its final communication before beginning its system reboot, Dan still had close to an hour before it would be back online. It was concerning him deeply that the reboot should take so long, but for now there was little he could do to change matters so instead he took the time to examine the phenomena in any way he could.

Basic functions that did not require computer assistance were still available which fortunately included standard optical scans but unfortunately didn’t include the replicator. It was why he now sat chewing somewhat disconsolately on a ration bar, (nutritious but composed of pre-chewed cardboard), and attempting to examine the latest odd occurrence from within the temporal anomaly.

In the past half hour he had noticed two bright flashes which had closely resembled the flash of Cherenkov radiation produced when a vessel entered or exited warp. In an effort to discover whether it was ship activity or simply a by-product of whatever was happening at the centre of the phenomena, he had been manually scanning those areas of space but so far with no tangible result.

He’d also studied the Leech where it hung suspended in space with the black shuttle buried in its flank. Much of the damage to the Leech seemed to be restricted to the rear three quarters of the ship leaving the bridge and accommodation area in the bow intact. Of course that didn’t mean it had left it pressurised. If you’re in there Gabe, hang tight.

He sat back in the pilot’s seat and winced as he tried to work the kinks from his neck where he’d been poring over the optical scan screen. As he checked across the panel he decided that he would make yet another attempt to send out a distress call, though he held out little hope of being any more successful this time than he had on the previous three attempts.

The equipment itself appeared to be sound, but neither the shipboard transmitter nor his commbadge seemed to be able to penetrate the bizarre field being generated by the temporal phenomena. Either that or it was preventing him receiving a reply. In either case, rescue had yet to arrive so reluctantly taking another bite of the ration bar he began again.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is the Starfleet shuttlecraft USS Berwick transmitting blind with an all points emergency navigation warning…”


DEEP SPACE

Having ceased expanding, the phenomena is now beginning to become agitated as the chroniton field and several differing types of exotic radiation interact creating a veritable cosmic soup of interference. The phenomenon has now become an interface between temporal realities and worse still a starship trap.

Like water finding the fault lines in rock, the phenomena has worked into the fractures of subspace, widening and distorting them, the effect being that vessels travelling through them will be forced back into normal space involuntarily.

Vessels on all sides of the interface.


USS ANGEL – SCIENCE LAB 4
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15h 2371 – 1640

“It is certainly…”

“…an interesting problem.”

1100 and 1101 turned towards T’Sell in unison much as they performed every other action.

“If you would allow us…”

“…a few moments Commander, we…”

“…would like to contact Captain Pathan.”

“By all means.” T’Sell left the Bynars and crossed back to the assembly area where the neural net lay semi-completed. The presence of the Bynars had been a fortuitous accident that T’Sell had pounced on in her desperate need to beat the deadline facing Chariscarpia.

Having studied the schematics and partially completed work, the Bynars admitted that they had no immediate answer to the complicated task but felt that there was enough basic ground work completed to apply some of their own theoretical work to. They seemed positively enthused by the problem and their excitement was contagious despite T’Sell’s ability to mask it in herself.

“Commander?”

The Bynars had obviously finished speaking to the Captain of the Brunel and were almost on the verge of hopping from foot to foot in their eagerness.

“Captain Pathan has granted us permission…”

“…to remain aboard the Angel indefinitely!”

T’Sell mentally applied the brakes to her own excitement at the news. Her dual heritage was not public knowledge simply because it didn’t need to be, but by her own personal preference she only allowed the Vulcan half to be her interface with the world in general.

“That is excellent news. Perhaps your first task should be to introduce yourselves to Chariscarpia. I feel she may have some interesting theories of her own to share.”

“That would be an excellent place to start Commander…”

“…and thank you for this opportunity.”

“I think that it should be you that deserves the thanks, but nonetheless you are welcome.”

Showing them the connections to directly contact Chariscarpia, T’Sell stepped back and allowed herself a rare public smile. The battle against time to save Chariscarpia continued but now they had acquired another ally.

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 18

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.


Chapter 18


IMPERIAL LINES STARLINER I.S.C.S.OLYMPIC – ARBORETUM
EN ROUTE TO CESTUS III
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1703 FST

Nan was stood on a raised platform in the largest open area aboard the Olympic; behind her were hastily erected screens so those further back could see and her voice and image were simultaneously being transmitted both around the Olympic to those who could not fit into the arboretum and to the Majestic and Hercules via sub-space link.

She stood for a moment, looking out over the sea of faces as they quietened for her address. Framing them at the front of the luxury cruise liner become refugee ship was the vast transparisteel viewing port that opened on to space ahead of the ship.

When the only sound was the gentle susurration of the arboretum's fountains, Nan stepped forward to the audio pickup and smiled.

“I had a whole speech prepared for this moment, and like always the words simply didn’t match the moment. I’m not in a position to understand how you all must feel right now despite having witnessed this all many times before, but I want you to know that I do understand you will have many questions to ask.”

Nan noted several nods in the crowd nearest to the podium.

“I’m sure you’ll understand that to answer them all will take some time, but certainly if you have any now I’ll do my best to answer them.”

The hesitant silence was broken, much to both the crowd and Nan’s amusement, by a small voice from the front.

“Who’s the lady mommy?”

Smiling Nan stepped forward followed by the holocams, one of which focussed on the small family group whose mother was worriedly trying to shush the little girl in her arms.

“Now that, young lady, is an excellent question. What’s your name?”

Before her mother could answer for her, the little girl said in a firm, no-nonsense voice, “My mommy says I’m not allowed to talk to strangers Ma’am.”

If ever there was a needed ice breaker that was it. Nan joined in the peal of laughter that spread through the assembled refugees and, no doubt across sub-space as well.

“Most sensible advice, I can see your mommy should be very proud of you.”

Nan lowered herself as close as she could to eye level and held out her hand.

“My name is Governor Nanietta Bacco and it’s my job to look after you all until you arrive at your new home.”

The little girl looked first at Nan, then at the proffered hand and finally at her mother who nodded encouragingly. Reaching out she took Nan’s hand in her own small one and said in a loud voice, “I’m Rihanna Tamar and I’m seven years old.”

The crowd cheered and applauded the bold youngster and Nan squeezed her hand gently, silently thanking her for the opening she’d provided in speaking to the assembled mass as equals, not subjects.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Rihanna, and it’s an honour to meet all of you. Believe me when I say that isn’t an empty greeting.” The crowd quietened once more as Nan spoke, her voice warm and honest. “It’s the fortitude and courage that people such as you have shown that provides the whole Federation with an example of what we stand for. I want you to know that you are not forgotten, you are not on your own and you will never be so.” Standing once again, she stepped back into full view of the refugees. “Cestus III has already become the new home of over a quarter of a million extraordinary people just like you, and right now it’s those people who are preparing the way for your new life.”

As the crowd cheered once more, the Olympic rocked slightly and the lights flickered causing a ripple of unease to pass through the throng.

Nan held up her hands, about to reassure them when the ship lurched violently and in a slow motion moment, she found herself airborne above the heads of the people she had been about to comfort as the Olympic was dragged out of warp.

The moment ended as Nan crashed into them, her face contacting the floor despite the mass of bodies struggling to stay upright and break her fall. As her vision tunnelled, her last coherent thought was that she’d promised to look after them.


SHUTTLE BERWICK
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1705 FST

Dan had continued monitoring the space around the Berwick and in the past fifteen minutes there had been a further two flashes out to starboard. This time though, there was no doubt that they were ships as they were both visible with the naked eye.

The first ship had been what appeared to be a cargo vessel and five minutes later a much larger ship (which could only have been a cruise liner) had erupted from warp, trailing streamers of Cherenkov radiation. Both ships had been carried forward on momentum alone and come to rest beyond his sight.

It was now obvious that his distress call and warning had not been received and he wondered just how many other vessels would fall victim to the phenomena before it dissipated, assuming it did. Dan had so little reliable information on the anomaly that he couldn’t even begin to predict what it was likely to do.

He hurried to try and focus the optical scanner in an attempt to find out if the ships had survived their ordeal intact. So intent was he in his task that when he was thrown head first into the forward screen, he never realised how close he had come to being instantly destroyed as the huge mass of the ISCS Olympic passed less than 200 metres above him.

The violent transition from warp to real space drew severed filaments of transient sub-space after the huge vessel, much as an oceangoing ship would leave a turbulent wake, and the Berwick was dragged along behind like a toy. As the Olympic slowed in the quagmire of the anomaly, the Berwick bounced across its hull and came to rest against the prominent sail of its command tower with a solid jolt.

Dan wasn’t conscious to witness the impact or to hear the hiss of slowly escaping atmosphere from the ruptured seals of the forward port.


SCORPION PROW SECTION ONE
ZETHANDER – FAR ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1720 FST

In the past two hours the away teams had managed to cover almost two decks of the prow section they had boarded. The engineering team had now set up a power supply that had been linked into one of the closed circuits that ran around the salvaged prow providing lighting and releasing the locks on the doors.

Right now, DeSalle was completing his update to Angel.

“If it’s alright with you Sir, I’d like to stay a little while longer with the away team. Once we’ve completed the second deck I’ll hand over to Janowski.”

“At your discretion Commander,” replied Sendok dryly. “Just remember you’re not being paid overtime.”

“Understood Sir, DeSalle out.”

DeSalle was finding it difficult to believe that the ship, or at least the surviving parts of it, were well over three hundred years old. Surfaces still gleamed and there wasn’t that ‘lived in’ smell that came with age. Instead there was the lingering fragrance they had first noticed when beaming aboard before the incident that destroyed Scorpion. While not at the top of his priorities list, he made a mental note to follow it up.

“Commander? You might want to see this.”

He looked over to see the Beta shift chief of engineering waving.

“What have you got Mr Carter?”

The fair haired Australian guided him into a large airy room divided by rows of compartmented units. It was uncluttered and pristine, the lights at just the right level to be comfortable.

“So is it storage or lab?”

“Quite possibly both Sir. From what we can decipher from the labelling, this is part of the life sciences department and it connects with the next four compartments.” He led DeSalle to the first of the units. “This is the exciting part.”

He tapped an inset pad at the edge of the compartment and a slim drawer opened. Condensing vapour escaped in a slight mist before dissipating, and DeSalle felt the cold that emanated from within the unit.

In the drawer itself were disk after frosted disk of some kind of cryogenically preserved material.

“All five compartments have these cryounits Sir and I’m fairly certain Chariscarpia isn’t even aware they’re here.”

“So are you going to put me out of my misery Lieutenant?”
DeSalle assumed if it was life sciences and it was cryogenically frozen, the samples were probably of living tissue.

“Well unless the scientists here have totally missed the mark, you’re looking at a complete genetic library of Chariscarpia’s home planet.” DeSalle’s eyes went wide at the implications of the discovery and Carter confirmed his suspicions.

“I’d say with the material contained in these storage units, you could seed a complete planet with new life, all based on DNA models from a planet that no longer exists. It’s an ark commander! A bloody ark!”


ARGOLIS SECTOR TRAFFIC CONTROL
MERAK II
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1721 FST

Around the Federation were sited several Sector Traffic Control units, civilian organised control centres that performed essentially the same task as Earth’s Air Traffic Control units had during the 20th and 21st centuries. Star routes were monitored, space lanes policed, traffic kept at safe distances and so on across the majority of explored space.

As the boundaries of the Federation expanded, monitoring stations were arrayed along the major routes either at Starbases or on planets and, as with many things, the task had long ago been delegated to computers. Sentient beings only became involved when things went wrong.

Such was the situation now as Hareth Gahaan studied the pulsing red marker on his screen.

“That’s confirmed Sir, automated distress beacon logged as the ISCS Olympic, Balak Pan-Quadrant Transportation based on New France. She’s flight planned out of Starbase 310 via New France and Aldebaran Prime onwards to Cestus III.” Gahaan scrolled through the flight plan details. “Part of a convoy of three vessels Sir. I’ve sent out hails to all three and received no response at this time.”

The duty supervisor, Dal Gleaney, studied the screen carefully. Starbases 310 and 211 were closest to the distress beacon, but when he toggled up information on vessel availability, neither had anything larger than runabout class in dock. Several smaller civilian vessels were travelling routes to the galactic north of the site but the closest vessels of any size were currently located at Zethander.

“Hareth, I’m putting in a call to Starfleet. They have three ships within around four hours of the scene and possibly a border cutter within two. Keep me updated.”

“Yes Sir, I’ll continue with hails.”

From the information that had scrolled up on the auto beacon, little could be gleaned other than the ship had been pulled out of warp involuntarily and suffered hull stress warnings and power drains on all systems. The beacon had been launched before any further information could be uploaded which left too many questions unanswerable without a ship on scene.

Gleaney forwarded the information he had to Starbase 310 with a request that Starfleet dispatch a ship to investigate as soon as possible.

Let’s just hope it’s soon enough Gleaney prayed.

 

[unusualsuspex]

Chapter 18 (cont)

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is trademarked and copyrighted by CBS Studios.
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2009.


Chapter 18 (cont)


IMPERIAL LINES STARLINER I.S.C.S.OLYMPIC – MEDICAL CENTRE
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1728 FST

“Captain, the Governor is waking.”

Nan’s eyes slowly drifted into focus and she sat up sharply which was a major mistake. The room span around her before tilting precariously. It was only the fact that Captain Dubois caught her that prevented her from landing on the deck a second time.

“Not so fast Governor. You’ve taken a nasty knock there.”

“Damn well feels like it too.” It actually felt more like the morning after her University graduation party combined with a warp core breach in her head and she wisely took the advice to remain still.

“I do hope you’re going to tell me that everything is alright Nereth?”

The shadow that crossed Dubois’ face was answer enough even before she spoke.

“For the moment the ship is sound Governor though the situation is more complex than that I’m afraid.” She took a seat at the foot of Nan’s bed and passed a hand over her face. “I won’t bother you with the science right now because even my astrophysics degree is getting bent out of shape on it. Suffice to say we’re mired in what appears to be a temporal anomaly though it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard of before.”

Nan’s mind flashed back to the moments before she lost consciousness and the image of little Rihanna Tamar passing below her feet.

“Casualties?”

“I’m sorry Governor, two dead and four critical, all from falls from the upper gallery. It seems the fact that the majority of the refugees had gathered on the floor of the arboretum may have saved them more serious injuries but the medical staff have still got their hands full.”

Feeling slightly more stable, Nan asked Dubois to help her stand and after a momentary dizziness passed she looked around the crowded medical centre. In the Olympic’s normal role as a cruise liner, there would generally be little for the medical staff to attend to beyond dispensing the normal space sickness remedies and other minor ailments. Right now though the staff members were overrun with casualties ranging from cuts and bruises to broken limbs and blunt traumas.

“Is there anything else I should know?” As if this isn’t enough she thought darkly.

Nan’s heart sank as Dubois nodded. “Plenty I’m afraid. Comms appear to be blocked, sensors are next to useless and the ship refuses to move no matter how much power we give her. There’s a little lateral movement but not much else.”

Nan sat back on the bed, the enormity of the situation now becoming apparent.

“On the plus side,” continued Dubois, “we still have power and full life support. Oh and the ship auto-launched a distress beacon as we were pulled out of warp. Without comms and sensors though, I can only guess if it’s working.”

Nan sighed deeply. While the plus side was a bonus, it definitely seemed to be outweighed by the minus at the moment.

“You’ll be glad to know that I’m not the kind of Governor who likes to micromanage things she doesn’t understand, but I’d like to get out among the refugees and offer some kind of comfort if that meets with your approval.”

Dubois nodded in gratitude. “That would be much appreciated Ma’am, thank you.” As Nan made to stand up again, Dubois held her arm briefly and pointed to an adjoining bed. “There is one other thing Governor.”

Lying with a thin sheet drawn up to his chest and cortical stimulators attached to his forehead was a dark skinned man wearing the four pips of a captain in Starfleet. Nan looked to Dubois for some kind of explanation.

“We’re not sure if the shuttle he was in was here already or drawn out of warp when we were, but his ship was losing atmosphere rapidly. It was only the fact that his shuttle was resting against an observation port at the base of the command tower that we knew he was there at all.”

“A lucky young man then.”

“I guess in the circumstances, lucky is a fairly subjective term.” Dubois made to leave and called back over her shoulder. “As soon as we get an update I’ll let you know Governor.”

Nan managed a wan smile as Dubois hurried off to tend to the ailing ship. Well I’ve had better days she thought to herself. Her priority right now was reassuring and organising the refugees, but before that she needed to find a little girl among the crowd who she’d assured she would take care of. Breaking promises was not Nan Bacco’s style.


STARFLEET COMMAND HEADQUARTERS - OPERATIONS
SAN FRANCISCO
EARTH
UFP SPACE
September 15th 2371 – 1739 FST

Some 200 metres below Starfleet Command Headquarters lay the subterranean bunker housing the hushed environs of Starfleet Command Operations. If the vessels of Starfleet were seen as the outstretching hands of the Federation, then this was its mind. Every ship movement, fleet detachment and operation undertaken by Starfleet was routed through this one vast operations room. In the event of war, this is where it would be won or lost from.

Such was the strategic importance of Operations that each duty shift was overseen by an officer of no lower rank than admiral. Their authority was finite but only just so; if they made a decision then they had better have the facts to back it with because admiral or not, they’d be hung out to dry if they got it wrong. Perhaps that was why the Command Bridge overlooking the ops floor was known as the sweatbox.

Admiral James “Fox” Reynard was the current occupier of the sweatbox’s hot seat whose shift was only into its first hour. In fact his first coffee had barely had chance to start cooling when the priority line buzzed from the ops floor. He eyed the coffee disconsolately before opening the link.

“Reynard and it better be good Lieutenant cos there’s a coffee wasting here.”

Reynard was a popular commander having worked his way through the ranks and becoming highly decorated in the process. He prided himself on knowing each and every controller on his shift as well as many of the support staff. For their part, they all knew that disturbing that first cup of coffee required a damn good reason.

“Way above my pay grade Sir.” Reynard recognised the voice of the newest addition to his shift, Lieutenant Teddra Ormetz, a dark haired Betazoid with a wicked sense of humour. “I’ve just received a request for vessel support from the Argolis Sector Traffic Control Centre.”

Reynard nodded absently wondering why Ormetz was bothering him with something she could handle herself. “So can we offer it?”

“That’s the problem Sir. I have a designated CSAR vessel, USS Angel, currently completing a mission at Zethander some four hours away. I also have a second vessel much closer but routing away from the incident but she’s Red Flagged Sir.”

That explains it mused Reynard as he brought up the details himself. Any ship Red Flagged on the boards was on a priority mission that very little should be able to divert, although a distress signal was usually up there. Information on Red Flagged ships was only accessible by the rank of Admiral and up, and even then they didn’t get all the information.

Reynard checked the data he had access to which stated that the USS Chamberlain was presently attached to a BROKEN SWORD mission. There were no other details but then he didn’t need any with that prefix.

“Forget it Lieutenant. Scramble the Angel and we’ll back up with any other available ship as we can. If either the Brunel or Mainstay at Zethander can respond use them. Failing that try the Cormorant out of Starbase G-6 or preferably the Merit at Betazed.”

“Will do Sir, Ormetz out.”

As she closed the connection, Reynard perused his board. As a former starship captain himself and now one of the tactical planners for Starfleet, Reynard saw how painfully thin Starfleet was spread across Federation space. At least with the ship production surge at the major yards it should be a situation that would soon improve, but that supposition was based on the Dominion backing down from their belligerent position.

Like many in Starfleet, he believed that it wasn’t a situation that provoked a great deal of hope.


USS ANGEL – BRIDGE
ZETHANDER – GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT
UFP SPACE
September 15h 2371 – 1745

Sendok had just taken an update from the away teams aboard the first prow section and was fascinated by the discovery they had made. As it turned out, Chariscarpia had indeed been unaware of the vast genetic library although she admitted that it had generally been outside her field of reference.

He’d only just filed it for study by Captain Gray when she returned to duty in the morning when Ensign el-Akouri called for his attention at Tactical.

“Sir, incoming priority message from Starfleet Command Operations.”

Sitting up straight in the command seat, Sendok requested it be placed on the main screen.

“Starfleet Operations, this is Commander Sendok of the USS Angel, go ahead.”

The young dark haired Betazoid woman that appeared on screen tapped several commands into her console before replying.

“Commander, I’m relaying the co-ordinates of a reported vessel incident recorded by Argolis Traffic Control. At the moment they only have an automated distress beacon, but they are also out of contact with the other two vessels travelling in convoy with it.”

Sendok checked back over his right shoulder and el-Akouri nodded to indicate he’d received the data.

“That’s received Lieutenant. Is this a priority scramble?”

“Captain’s discretion, Commander, but sooner rather than later is requested depending on the status of your mission at Zethander.”

“Understood Lieutenant, we’ll contact you shortly, Angel out.” He stood from the chair and tapped his commbadge. “Sendok to Gray.”

Kat’s response was almost immediate. “Go ahead Commander.”

“Captain, we have a new mission tasking in from Starfleet Operations. Depending on our current status and at your discretion they are requesting an urgent response.”

“On my way Commander. All department heads to the briefing room ASAP. Gray out.”

Sendok checked to confirm that the department heads were being notified and receiving an affirmative from bal Chag at ops, he turned his attention back to el-Akouri.

“Ensign, pipe that package through to the briefing room and prepare an all hands recall pending the Captain’s decision.”

As the bridge came alive around him, Sendok considered just how far Kat Gray had come in the brief time that the Captaincy had been dropped in her lap. While the circumstances behind it were still somewhat beyond his comprehension, in a strange way it had proved an invaluable experience for the former XO and he was convinced that Kat would not be long waiting for her own command.

Right now, however, she needed to concentrate on this one and having rapidly scanned through the mission brief Sendok felt that she would have more than enough waiting for her at the site of the Olympic incident.

 

[Gibraltar]

Commentary on Chapter 17

You’ve completely mastered the Bynars here, and they’re used to great effect!

Petrie is just a dick, and I was very pleased that Nan put him in his place as coldly and effectively as she did. His kind of passive-aggressive obstructionism in the midst of a humanitarian rescue mission is unforgivable, and he more than deserved the humiliation of demotion.

Adrian’s a right backstabbing bastard, and as with Petrie, I thoroughly enjoyed watching him get his comeuppance. Only now it appears Anderson’s job just got a lot harder as Fishlock’s gone ‘off the grid.’

Whatever the true nature of the phenomena that’s engulfed the Leech and Fishlock’s shuttle, it now seems as though it’s dangerously close to becoming a conduit for someone else to encroach upon our galaxy.

And yay, Bynars joining the crew. That should prove as interesting as it doubtless will entertaining.

Glad you’re back to posting, and thanks for hooking me up with my Angel fix!