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Star Trek: Atlas - Third vs First

Bry_Sinclair

Vice Admiral
Admiral
Captain’s Quarters, U.S.S. Atlas
Stardate: 38363.8


The flame flickered gentle as the wick took light, the candle in the middle of the table adding a touch more ambiance to Bruce Keller’s darkened quarters. After weeks spent debating with himself over the ramifications he was still no closer to a decision, after all there was a lot of weight on that one question—regardless of what the answer was. But after trawling through the regulations and reading countless papers written on the ethics and/or appropriateness of the matter and not coming up with any sort of answer, he’d finally decided to hell with it.

The enunciator sounded making him jump. He’d been a bundle of nervous energy all day waiting for that moment. His stomach tight and palms a little sweaty, Keller straightened up and turned to the doorway.

“Enter.”

The doors parted to reveal Lieutenant Commander Htennak standing there, sporting a snug maroon jumpsuit with a deep V-neck that showed off his dark copper chest hair. As soon as the Ktarian saw him standing beside the candlelit dining table a wide smile spread across his face as he stepped inside, the door closed allowing them to be alone.

“Hi there,” Htennak began.

“Evening,” he replied, his mouth suddenly dry.

For a moment, they stood there in the captain’s dimly lit quarters. Htennak broke the tension with a chuckle. “Is it weird that I’m at a loss for words?”

Keller smiled. “You’re not the only one, this feels pretty far out my comfort zone for some reason.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

“True,” he admitted, before gesturing to one of the two chairs. “But let’s just start with dinner and not have any further expectations.”

Htennak took the seat and nodded his agreement. “That sounds like a good place to start.”

Keller moved over to his desk and retrieved the bottle he’d found in the ship’s lounge, before pouring them both a glass of the azure blue liquid. Htennak’s eyes went wide.

“Is that Ktarian chardonnay?”

“Unreplicated. I’m going to have to thank whoever stocked the drinks cabinet, they’ve got some impeccable taste.”

“I’ll drink to that!”

They tapped their glasses together before each taking a sip. The crisp cool blending of fruits washed over his tongue, leaving a lingering hint of creamy vanilla. He was by no means an expert when it came to wine, he just knew what he liked and after just one taste he already had a new favourite—though that could’ve been more to do with the company he was keeping in that moment than the wine itself.

“I hope you’re hungry, I’ve been slaving away all afternoon.”

“Famished.”

Keller tapped a command into the replicator and it hummed to life. Truthfully, he had been wracking his brains on just what to serve, not wanting anything overly complicated but also didn’t want it to feel like just any ordinary meal in the mess hall. After he’d found the wine he’d been struck with inspiration, as Ktarians rarely had one large dish and typically opted for a number of different combinations he’d gone for a tapas option, blending together foods from numerous worlds across the Alpha Quadrant to create something he hoped would be memorable for a first date.

He picked up the tray and carried it to the table, each dish looked more inviting than the one next to it, with breads, vegetables, seafood, meats, and sauces from at least ten different planets. Htennak’s smile just widened as he looked at the selection and Keller slipped into the seat opposite him.

“You weren’t kidding, Cap…Bruce,” he quickly corrected himself, blushing.

“As they saying goes, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Htennak raised an eyebrow. “So, it’s my heart you’re after, is it?”

“Bridge to Captain Keller,” the intercom interrupted.

He sighed. There it was. As the captain of a starship his life would never be a quiet one, he would forever have the weight of her mission and her crew on his shoulders. No matter what he may have wanted for himself, his duty would always be there just beneath the surface.

“Go ahead.”

“Sir, we’re picking up a distress call from an unknown alien ship approximately point-one light-years away,” stated Lieutenant sh’Thallas.

“Set a course and take us to maximum warp. Sound yellow alert. I’m on my way,” he replied already getting to his feet. The quiet evening he had envisioned, where he had the opportunity to get to know his guest a little better in a private setting with good wine and a smorgasbord of food evaporated.

Htennak was also standing up, ready to join him—that was a benefit of dating one of his officers he hadn’t considered, they were bound by the same sense of duty that he was. Keller led the way out onto the deck one corridor, following the curve until a junction led up to the raised bridge. Taking the ramp, the pair of them stepped onto the bridge, which was already a flurry of activity.

“Report.”

“We’re underway, sir,” the Andorian watch officer began as she rose from the command chair, “ETA in thirty-eight minutes.”

“Did the message say what the emergency was?”

Ensign Axlan at ops shook his head. “Negative, Captain. The message was badly distorted, all I could make out was the need for immediate assistance.”

“Any other ships on sensors?”

“None in range,” the Betazoid replied. “The vessels power readings are fluctuating wildly, so it looks more like a technical malfunction than a hostile attack.”

Keller nodded in silent agreement. “Alert sickbay to prepare for possible casualties and have damage control teams stand ready.” He glanced at his civvies. “I’ll get changed. Have the senior officers report to their stations.”

“Aye sir.”

* * * * *

Bridge, U.S.S. Atlas

“We’re approaching the ship, sir.”

“Drop us out of warp, Ensign,” Commander Celan instructed as she stood beside the captain’s chair.

“Aye Commander.”

Keller sat forward. “Full scan. Mr Tathar, any response to our hails?”

“Negative, sir.”

The captain shot her a look, his concern obvious as she felt it too. For a ship to call for help and not respond to any further communications was always worrying and meant one of two things, either the situation had deteriorated to the point where no one was able to make contact, or they were flying into a trap.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Na-Gharii began, “the ship is of unknown origin. No signs of battle damage but her main power is out, emergency backup is failing. I’ve got seventy-four lifes—” he paused for a second. “No, seventy-three. Seventy-two.” Another alert sounded on his console, drawing Celan closer to get a better look. “I’m picking up a lot of weapons fire aboard, sir.”

“Are the lifesigns all of the same species?” she asked.

“Yes sir.”

A frown deepened on her brow. “Some kind of mutiny?”

Keller stood and stepped down to the ops station. “Ensign, open a channel.” A quick nod followed. “Unknown vessel, this is Captain Keller of the starship Atlas. We picked up your distress call and are here to assist.”

There was a moment of silence before the speakers screeched to life. “Help! They’re killing us!”

“What’s going on? Who is attacking you?”

The open channel was silent.

She looked back at Keller, whose jaw was clenched tight. He wasn’t someone to ignore a call for help, even if it meant putting Starfleet personnel at risk though up until now he had always been one of those people who was risking it all, he’d never sent others into a situation he himself wouldn’t take the lead on. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but that was what that fourth pip meant.

He looked at her. “Commander, take a security detail over there.”

“Aye sir. Ydaris, Tathar with me. Have Doctor Yuen meet us in the transporter room.”

In seconds they were heading down to deck four. The situation was far from ideal, they were heading into first contact situation where the conditions were hostile, beaming in with no intelligence and no idea what they would be facing.

By the time they reached room one, security guards Parker and Riza were already there ready to issue each of them type-two phasers. They bridge crew had just accepted their sidearms when Yuen entered and took her weapon, offering no protest.

“Phasers on stun. Don’t fire unless fired upon. We need to get the situation under control and then work out what the hell is going on over there. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” the five officers and crewmen replied in unison.

She quickly took up a firing stance on the platform, phaser ready. Phillips was working the controls, a look on concern on her face.

“Commander, there is weapons fire in almost every section. No matter where I beam you to you might find yourselves under attack.”

“Do your best, Chief, I’ve got every faith in you.”

“Aye sir.” After a moment more she nodded to herself. “I’ve got co-ordinates.”

“Energise.”

* * * * *
 
Cargo Bay, Unknown Alien Vessel

As soon as the away team materialised the sound of weapons fire echoed through the cargo bay, immediately making them all duck and take cover behind crates and barrels. Tathar’s ears twitched as he homed in on the sounds, they were loud but they weren’t in the hold but rather just outside in the corridor.

Doctor Yuen’s tricorder confirmed it moments later. “Four lifesigns are in that direction,” she said pointing to the portside.

“Let’s go,” Celan ordered, immediately taking point and hurrying towards the exit. Tathar sprinted after her, surprised at just how agile the Deltan was.

The doors parted as they approached, and the commander glanced out into the corridor. He quickly sniffed the unfamiliar air, taking note of the strong metallic tang of blood, scorched metal, melting plastics, and burning fabric, whatever was happening on this ship was absolute carnage.

His ears flicked as he heard pained whimpers and panicked breathing not far from them, just down the hallway. Celan spotted them as well.

“I’m Commander Celan of the starship Atlas. We picked up your distress call and are here to assist. What’s going on here?”

Before anyone could reply he heard the steady thunk of metal on metal, followed almost immediately from intense weapons fire from the opposite direction of the cowering survivors. Celan ducked back further behind the cover of the door alcove, the away team was pinned inside the cargo bay with no way to get themselves into a better defensive position.

“Commander, I’m not picking up any new lifesigns,” stated Yuen.

“Then who’s shooting at us?” Lieutenant Maq’on asked.

“One way to find out,” said Celan. “Hold your fire! We are here to render aid and assist in establishing a ceasefire.”

The unrelenting curtain of disruptor blasts continued. From the direction of the survivors a pained scream filled the air for a second before falling silent.

Celan stuck her head out to get a better look but pulled back almost instantly, just as a pulse of jade energy cut through where her head had been a moment ago. Maq’on scowled at her, clearly angered at her superiors reckless behaviour, but she held her tongue.

“Did you see anything?”

The first officer frowned. “Robots. Armed robots, at least three of them.”

“Seeing as how they almost decapitated you, do we have permission to return fire?”

“I’ll go high, you go low, Lieutenant.”

The two women got in position, Maq’on crouched down low, before quickly swinging their phasers out into the hallway and firing. Tathar heard the hits, but he also heard the footsteps continuing as they ducked back behind cover once more though now their alcove was coming under increasing fire.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It had no effect on them, increase to full stun,” said Maq’on as she reset her weapon.

He followed her instruction and increased his power setting. Glancing across the hallway, he noticed another doorway similar to the one they currently sheltered in, most likely an identical cargo bay, though it would give them another vantage point to attack from.

“Sir,” he spoke up and pointed at it.

“I saw it, Ensign, but we can’t reach it—not with this barrage.”

“I could, Commander.”

Celan shot him a look. “This is no time to be a hero, Ensign.”

“Commander, my reflexes are faster than yours and my strength is at least three times greater, I could pounce over there and draw their fire, long enough for you and the Lieutenant to take them out. I’m not looking to be a hero, just providing a tactical use of my physiology.”

“Commander,” Yuen interjected, “we have to do something soon, my scans show just sixty-one lifesigns onboard.”

The Deltan looked from the CMO to him, her mind going a parsec a second as she weighed up their options. She looked back at the gauntlet he would have to cross, then back towards where the survivors sobbed.

“Do it. Ydaris, stand ready.”

He nodded and holstered his weapon, crouching down and readying himself for the leap of faith; muscles coiled, hackles raised as he psyched himself up for the utterly crazy plan he’d come up with.

“Ready,” he growled.

“Now!”

Pushing off with every ounce of strength he could muster, Tathar leapt. Everything seemed to slow down in that moment as he quickly crossed the corridor, feeling the heat of the disruptor blasts singe his fur. Behind him he was aware of movement as Celan and Maq’on attacked once more, their ruby red phaser beams once again finding their targets but this time the hits saw the robotic hostiles drop to the deck. By the time he tucked and rolled into the back of the opposite alcove it was all over, the corridor was quiet.

Yuen shot out into the hallway and headed straight for the ship’s crewmembers, tricorder in hand. Parker and Riza following, covering her.

As Celan and Maq’on approached, he stood up and patted a smouldering tuft of fur on his leg. The first officer flashed him a smile.

“Nicely done, Ensign.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“The pair of you check out those robots, make sure they’re disabled.”

“You got it,” the Bolian replied and led the way.

They parted company, Celan going to speak with the new alien race they’d just met as he and Maq’on approached the three fallen hostiles, their weapons drawn. As soon as they reached them, he crouched down and flipped open his tricorder as she stood guard. As the device scanned and analysed the data, he took a moment to look over the robots. Their torsos were bulky and angular, no doubt housing its power source and other vital components, whilst the four limbs were all thin giving the impression of being skeletonised, and the head was rectangular with a VISOR-like protuberance near the top of its cranium.

The tricorder chirped, its sweep complete. “It looks as though heavy stun has overloaded several key circuits, without repairs they won’t be active anymore.”

“Good. Let’s get back to the others.”

He was about to confirm when he noticed something odd, readings he remembered from the scans he took of the ship as they approached. Turning to the nearest bulkhead he aimed his tricorder at it. Maq’on watched him, though stayed quiet for a moment.

“Ensign?”

“Sir, these robots are made of the same material as the ship.”

She crouched beside him and looked at the results. “So, either these robots are building more of themselves from parts of the ship, or these people were the ones who create them.”

“It would seem so.”

“Come on, lets report back to the Commander.”

As they trotted back up the corridor, there was the familiar whine of the transporter and he saw the three survivors dematerialise. The away team quickly regrouped, and he filled them in on what he’d found.

“That would explain why our sensors didn’t identify them,” Maq’on added.

“We proceed with caution then. Doctor, are there any large clusters of survivors?”

Yuen glanced at her scans and nodded. “I’ve got thirteen lifesigns grouped together, thirty meters forward and five decks up.”

“Alright, we’ll head there first, try to save as many lives as we can. Hopefully, someone there can shed some light on what’s going on.”

The team headed out again, Celan at the front and Maq’on covering their rear. All of them were quiet, the only sounds were the soft hums of their tricorders. Thankfully they heard no more shooting on this deck.

It didn’t take them long to find a turbolift and head upwards, all of them standing clear of the door. As soon as it opened a hail of disruptor pulses poured inside, scorching the rear wall of the carriage. After twenty full seconds of fire, it stopped and he once again heard the approach of metal feet. Commander Celan and the security team took their positions, leant out from their cover and took out anything that moved.

Their immediate path clear, they stepped out into the corridor and proceeded forward. Just like the cargo deck, it looked as though a brutal war had been fought in the hallways, though here there were more bodies strewn across the deck—the biological outnumber the mechanical four-to-one.

As they neared the location of the lifesigns, Tathar was relieved to find no more hostiles lurking around. That just left the problem of hain access to the room the survivors were cowering in. He immediately set about trying to override the lockout on the door controls, but the alien system wasn’t very intuitive so he didn’t have much luck. Removing a panel next to the door controls he found the manual release, though even with his considerable strength he couldn’t get it to budge.

After failing twice, he looked back at Celan his tail literally between his legs. “I’m sorry, sir, they’ve barricaded themselves in there.”

She gave him a supportive smile. “Can you patch into their intercom? If we can’t open the door then maybe I can convince them to do it for us.”

He quickly looked back at the controls and found the communications system. It took a few moments, but soon he had a work around that would give them access. “Got it!”

“Put me through.” He opened the link and nodded at her. “To those inside, my name is Celan, first officer of the starship Atlas. We picked up your distress call and are here to assist. We have a doctor with us to treat any injured, and we can beam you back to our ship for your safety. If you can hear me, please open the door so we can help.”

“Y…you are not Mejarian, how can we trust you?” came the terrified response.

“We represent the United Federation of Planets and mean you no harm. We’ve already recovered three survivors from a few decks below, please let us in.”

There was a hesitation from the other side of the door, no doubt those inside were debating with one another if they should put their faith in a strangers voice after all they had no doubt endured. As the away team waited, they all looked around nervously, checking and rechecking every corridor, every alcove, every nook and cranny one of those robots might spring from and attack once more.

After what felt like an eternity, there was a chirp from the door panel as the lockout was lifted and the panels groaned open slowly. Celan holstered her weapon, but as soon as the doors slid into the bulkhead a pair of muzzles aimed at her and she raised her hands to show she meant no harm. Tathar stayed stone still beside the door, he could easily have disarmed them, but all it took was one anxious trigger finger and they wouldn’t have an XO anymore. Maq’on likewise held very still, though kept her weapon pointed at those threatening her superior officer.

The Mejarian were pale skinned and sported various hair colours, though they lacked eyebrows and instead had heavy bony ridges going from the bridge of their nose to their cheekbones, making their eyes looked recessed and small.

“Please, lower your weapons. We’re not going to hurt you.”

The two guards at the door looked further back into the room, which appeared to be a mess hall, where a once well-groomed man gave them a nod. The weapons were lowered and they stepped aside, allowing them to enter. Inside, the place was a mess with tables and chairs knocked over or used to hastily assemble barriers behind which the survivors cowered, all of it covered in smeared blood.

“I am Taloj Odajon, deputy director of colony operations.”

“Commander Celan of the U.S.S. Atlas. Do any of your people need urgent medical care?”

Odajon hesitated for a moment and nodded, gesturing towards the far side of the room. Before Celan could even say a word, Yuen was on her way tricorder in hand.

“Deputy director, as I said over the intercom, we can evacuate your people and try to reclaim control of your ship, but can you tell us what happened here?”

“The automata have gone crazy, they attacked us without warning!”

“Automata? You mean the robots?” inquired Tathar, who quickly went quiet as he’d likely overstepped the mark.

Celan however didn’t reprimand him, even the sideways glance she gave him showed no irritation. Odajon on the other hand looked bewildered, then quickly looked at the away team and seemed even more shocked.

“You’re all biologicals? Do you have no automata to handle security for you?”

The first officer shook her head. “We don’t use robots for such things in Starfleet.”

“You Federations are clearly not very advanced then, relying on flesh and blood for such laborious work.”

“You were saying they malfunctioned,” Celan said through gritted teeth.

“Yes, I’ve never heard of such a thing before. They’ve always been the most dependable of workers.”

“Do you have any way of shutting them down?”

The deputy director looked horrified at such a notion. “Why would we need that?”

Celan looked dumbstruck for a second but recovered quickly. “Perhaps for a situation like this?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea. An automata technician would know of such a thing.”

“Are there any technicians here?”

“I…I don’t know.”

She was doing a masterful job of keeping her cool. Tathar was about ready to pick the man up and shake the information out of him, but the Deltan took a breath and let it out slowly. She moved passed the administrator, flipped a chair back onto its legs and stepped up onto it so everyone in the room could see her.

“Is there an automata technician in here?”

Other than Doctor Yuen working away in the far corner, everyone else was still for a moment. Very slowly, a hand appeared from behind one of the overturned tables, it was visibly trembling. Celan hopped down off the seat and gestured for him to follow her. They headed over to the table, where a young woman was now pushing herself up onto her feet. Her face was white and there were the encrusted remains of vomit at the corners of her mouth, her hooded eyes quickly flicked between the two strangers that approached her.

In a soft voice, the XO began, “My name is Celan and this is Tathar. What’s yours?”

“Eh…Ehin…Ehinna.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ehinna. You are an automata technician, right?” The traumatised young woman nodded. “Is there any sort of command that will switch them all off?”

“I…I…they…” she began, looking down at her bloodstained hands and coveralls.

Celan took a step forward and, in a surprising move, cupped the face of the other woman with both her hands and locked eyes. “Ehinna, just breath. Deep breathes. I know you’ll have been through a lot, and we have someone on our ship who you can talk to about it, but we have to try and help the rest of your crew. Can we shut down all the automata?”

For a moment, the Mejarian was silent, unable to look away from the dark eyes that held her own. A moment later, she blinked and the haze that she seemed to have been lost in cleared. She nodded her head and so Celan released her hold.

“There is a power down command. The sequence can be initiated from automata control or the bridge. Once the command is issued they will return to their charging points.”

“Do you have the code?” The technician nodded again. Celan looked at Tathar. “Tricorder.”

He pulled it from his hip and handed it to Ehinna. Slowly, she input the command into the device, double checked her work, then handed it back. He gave her a smirk, not wanting to distress her further by exposing his sharpened teeth.

“Thank you,” Celan said as softly as she’d begun.

With the next leg of their mission clear, they headed back to Odajon, who stood with his hands on his hips and scowling at her. “Deputy director, prepare you people for evacuation. We’ll secure your ship and make it safe for you to return.”

Without letting him answer she turned away and tapped her combadge. “Celan to Atlas.”

“Go ahead, Commander.”

“Sir, we have a workable plan to get this ship back under control. But you need to beam out all active Mejarian lifesigns, now.”

“You’re sure none of them are hostile?”

“This looks to be a conflict between man and machine, Captain.”

Crewman Parker hurried over to them from the injured. “Sorry to interrupt, sir,” he began, “Doctor Yuen has two patients that will need immediate surgery.”

“Did you catch that, sir?”

“We’ve locked in on her combadge and will beam them all directly to sickbay, then start working on the rest of the survivors. Be careful, Commander. Atlas out.”

As the transporter whined to life, the XO turned back to the deputy director. “Where is the bridge?”

* * * * *

Command Deck, Mejarian Colony Ship

Retracing their steps back to the turbolift, they took it up another four decks to reach the command level. As they travelled through the ship there was no longer the sound of weapons fire. Once again, they stayed back as the carriage stopped and the doors opened. No shots were fired.

Maq’on glanced at Tathar, who had set his tricorder to scan for movement, and he gave the all clear. The scene was much the same as every other corridor, the evidence of a brutal battle and the bodies of the fallen were everywhere. From the fact that there was someone involved with colony operations onboard, she had quickly surmised this ship was a transport, taking these people to a new home, which meant there had to have been a few hundred at least onboard originally so there would be a lot of bodies to recover once the ship was secured.

That would be an issue to deal with later, right now they needed to focus on getting to the bridge and issuing the command to the hostile robots. The corridor was only ten meters long, but it had a crossroads halfway along, which could well be used as the site for an ambush. The team of five split up and stayed close to both sides of the corridor as they pressed forward until they reached the intersection.

Maq’on and Celan both glanced down their respective sides. She quickly counted five hostiles, all standing still with their rifles tightly held. Ducking back, she gestured to the first officer how many she’d seen. Celan had six on her side, giving them eleven total to take out as quickly as possible without alerting however many others would be close enough to hear the exchange of fire. There was no way anyone could make it to the other side without being noticed, and going by their previous engagements it was clear their reaction speed was far greater.

Using non-verbal hand signals, so as to not alert the machines just a short distance away, they got themselves set up for the attack. As soon as they made their move it would have to be fast, they had no way of knowing is the automata communicated through any sort of collective network that spread information in a matter of milliseconds which could alert every other unit on the ship to their presence, so they needed to hit them hard, get to the bridge and secure it as quickly as possible.

When the away team was in place, all of them poised and tensed, ready to move, Celan gave them a silent countdown. The two ranking officers would be taking the biggest risk, they needed to get as far into the intersection as they could to get a better angle of fire.

As soon as the countdown hit zero they moved. She and Celan darted into the opening facing down their respective sides of the corridor, phasers raised and firing as soon as they had a target, which the other three used the corner for cover and took out all the machines they could. In the blink of an eye, the quiet deck was turned into a scene of chaos, first filled with the whines of phasers before disruptors growled in response.

As Maq’on took her last shot a scream from behind her filled the hallway. She turned to see the first officer spin and slam into the deck. One last automata remained in the opposite direction. She dropped to her knee as the air around her filled with sizzling bolts of energy and fired. A hit square to the chest took out the last hostile.

Even as it collapsed to the deck Tathar was moving towards the fallen Deltan, who was already pushing herself up though with just one arm. Maq’on darted over to them as Parker and Riza took up defensive positions.

Celan’s left shoulder had been hit. The blast has scorched away her uniform and torn into the skin, muscle and bone, blood was soaking her sleeve and dripping off her limp hand. Given the sheer agony she must’ve been in, the older woman barely seemed to grimace as she tried to get back to her feet.

“Commander don’t try to move,” she said as Tathar scanned the injury.

“We need to take the bridge, now.”

“Sir, your shoulder has been destroyed,” the Rigellian-Dervan stated, looking up from his scans.

Maq’on placed a hand on the older woman’s undamaged shoulder. “You’re in no condition to carry on, sir.”

Celan tried to object but as she turned to look at her, she winced and tried to blink back the pained tears. Her body was most likely screaming at her to stop, even though her brain was trying to push forward and complete the mission they’d taken on. It took only a second for the two warring sides to battle it out, before her brain lost out—she was in no fit state to continue which might put the rest of them at greater risk.

She conceded with a nod. “You’re in charge, Lieutenant. Secure the bridge and alert the Atlas when you’ve succeeded.”

“I will, sir,” she assured her superior and tapped her combadge. “Maq’on to Phillips. Lock onto Comamnder Celan’s signal and beam her directly to sickbay.”

“Acknowledged.”

A moment later, the transporter beam enveloped the XO and she disappeared from the deck. Maq’on took a breath before getting standing once again. It was all on her now.

“Let’s go.”

The away team complied, following her lead to the bridge entrance. Herself and Parker on one side, Tathar and Riza on the other, phasers raised and ready as the operations manager worked on the door controls. It took him a moment before he gave her nod.

She flexed her fingers around the phaser, loosened her shoulders, then gave him the sign to open it. A second later the panels parted and she stuck her head in to survey the command centre. It was rectangular, with a situation table between the entrance and the captain’s chair, as well as a number of consoles lining the bulkheads with a viewport at the front. Eight robots stood at the different stations, working the controls with mechanical efficiency.

As they turned to face the doors the away team opened fire, each of them targeting two of the hostiles, with all eight hitting the deck before they could get a single shot off. She paused long enough to make sure none of them got up again and motioned them to enter.

“Ensign, get that command issued. Riza, watch the entrance. Parker, see if you can find a system status report.”

The team spread out and set to their tasks. She slowly swept the room with her weapon, waiting for a counterattack or some other surprise. A flash of light from one of the automata grabbed her attention and she aimed at it. The machines visual sensor blinked on once more, but it didn’t move.

She pulled out her tricorder and approached, scanning for any sort of booby trap but found nothing. The robots head tilted to the side as it looked up at her. Her phaser was at point-blank range now, a shot from there would definitely shut it down.

“Th…they wooould…not fr…free usssssss,” it uttered before the light went out.

“Sir, command has been issued and confirmation from all active units has been received.”

“Nice work, Tathar,” she said before tapping her combadge. “Maq’on to Atlas.”

“Go ahead.”

“Captain, we’ve taken the bridge and secured the ship with no further casualties.”

“Understood. Nice work, Lieutenant. Maintain your position, we’ll begin sending over repair crews and a diagnostics team.”

“Acknowledged. Maq’on out.”

Once the channel closed she looked down at the robot that had spoken to her, questioning exactly what they had stumbled onto aboard the alien ship.

* * * * *
 
Captain’s log, stardate: 38368.5.

Repairs to the Mejarian colony ship have been completed and many of the survivors have begun to return to their ship, though two remain in critical condition in sickbay. Out of four-hundred and seventeen originally onboard only fifty-eight survived. Our analysis hasn’t found any sort of technical malfunction with the ‘automata’, though what Lieutenant Maq’on included in her report might shine some light on that—I will be meeting with the remaining senior officials and officers from the colony ship later today, so I will try to find out more from them.

Commander Celan has made a full recovery from her injuries and been released from sickbay, though Doctor Yuen has signed her off for a couple of days to give her time to get acquainted with newly reconstructed shoulder. The away teams performance was exemplary, I will be including a citation in their records for what they managed to accomplish.


* * * * *

Briefing Room, U.S.S. Atlas

Keller and Htennak rose as Maq’on led deputy director Odajon, second officer Veng, and senior automata operator Undrad into the briefing room. As the three Mejarians took their seats on one side of the table, Maq’on joined her shipmates—given what she had heard on the bridge of the alien ship, Keller had thought it wise to include her.

“Thank you all for coming.”

“We should be thanking you, Captain,” Veng began, “what you and your crew have done for us is nothing short of remarkable. We will need to ensure you are properly compensated.”

He waved it off. “One of Starfleet’s mandates is to respond to distress calls and provide humanitarian aid wherever it is needed.”

“Be that as it may, we have to give you something in return for all you’ve done for us.”

Veng didn’t know it, but she’d just provided a route into the heart of the discussion he’d wanted to have. “I did have a few questions, if I may.”

“Of course.”

“How long have your people had the automata?”

Undrad sat forward. “Mejarus has had them in one form or another for the last fifty years. The current line if the nineth generation and came into operation two months ago.”

“Fifty years? Wow, that’s impressive,” Htennak commented. “In all that time there have never been any issues like this?”

“None, Commander. Not even among those programmed for security functions.”

“So, they’re used for a variety of purposes,” asked Keller.

“Oh yes, we’ve transferred almost all elements of manual labour or services to the automata, they’ve made our daily lives so much better,” Undrad stated, sounding like a corporate advertisement.

“I’m surprised you don’t have anything similar onboard your ship, Captain,” Odajon interjected, his sunken eyes looking down his upturned nose at them.

Keller gave him a diplomatic smile (something he was getting better at). “I guess we just like the more personable touch, deputy director.”

“I’m curious, how are they regarded?” Htennak asked.

“Regarded? We don’t regard them as anything, they’re tools to be used,” proclaimed Odajon.

The counsellor looked at the other two people representing their people, clearly hoping for some sign that Odajon’s was an outlying opinion. Keller was hoping for the same, though it wasn’t right to judge an entire species based on only a few opinions, before something like this robotic revolt happened then it must’ve been brewing for some time.

Veng nodded slightly. “Can’t say I’ve really thought about it, they’ve always been a part of life to make things easier for Mejarians.”

He looked at Undrad, who he hoped had a somewhat differing opinion, given the time he would undoubtedly have to spend with them on a day-to-day basis. “They’re an integral part of our society, they do the work we programme them to do that keeps our cities and ships functioning.”

“So, they’re not self-aware at all? They’ve never asked for better treatment?”

Odajon scoffed at Htennak. “Do your machines asked for ‘better treatment’?”

“The automata have never shown signs of developing self-awareness,” Undrad quickly stepped in.

Keller caught Maq’on’s eye and gave her the subtlest of nods. She clasped her hands on top of the table and sat forward. “If that’s the case, why did one tell me that you didn’t free them?”

“What?” Veng asked, clearly surprised.

He was watching them closely, so caught a fleeting glance between Odajon and Undrad, though neither said anything for a moment. It was the uniformed operator who stepped out onto that ledge. “Maybe you misheard it, Lieutenant.”

Maq’on smiled at him and then tapped the control panel beside her. Her tricorder had been opened and recording everything within the scanning radius, including audio. “Th…they wooould…not fr…free usssssss.”

“It’s clearly a malfunction, an overload to its CPU caused by your weapons,” proclaimed Odajon.

“That’s a pretty specific malfunction,” the security chief commented.

Keller leaned closer, hoping that he could try and make some sort of impact though wasn’t holding out much hope. “It’s not our place to dictate policy to you, or any other species, but this could be the signs of something happening to the automata—whether a malfunction or the emergence of sentience. What has happened on your ship may happen again, if nothing else you should thoroughly investigate why and how to keep it from occurring somewhere else.”

Odajon snorted out a single humourless laugh. “You want us to grant them the same status as a Mejarian?”

“If they have managed to evolve in some way, then you’ll have to weigh up all your options.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t get to make our laws for us, Captain,” he sneered before abruptly rising to his feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we had better return to our ship for the journey home.”

He bit his tongue, knowing that to say anything more would fall on deaf ears. Standing, he gave them his diplomatic smile once more. “Of course. Lieutenant, will you show them to the transporter room.”

“Aye sir,” she said gesturing to the exit. “If you’d like to come with me.”

Keller watched all three of them leave, the deputy director with his nose in the air, Undrad averted his gaze and stared intently at the deck, whilst Veng looked from her peers to the Starfleeters and back before giving him a polite nod and heading out the door. He let out a heavy sigh and sat back, slouching down into a very un-captain-like posture.

“That could’ve gone better,” he admitted.

Htennak turned his chair towards him. “I’m afraid the odds were high it was always going to go like that, how would you feel if someone told you your tricorder was actually alive?”

“Maybe it’s because the automata are humanoid I just sympathise with them, I can’t help but project a sense of sentience and the possibilities that might bring.”

The Ktarian smiled then leant over and rested a hand on his arm. “You know, Bruce, you’re a man of principle and boundless compassion—I think those might be your best features.”

“So it’s not how I look in a skant?”

“Oh, that’s definitely the next thing on the list.”

Keller chuckled and rested his hand on top of Htennak’s. “Thank you.”

“What do you say about attempting our dinner again tonight? With all that hard work you put in it would be a shame to waste it.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

A wicked smile spread across Htennak’s face. “You’ll love what I have in mind for breakfast.”

* * * * *

END
 
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An excellent tale that leaves the possible sentience of the Mejarian automata unresolved. Gripping action sequences and wonderful character moments throughout. I'm also enjoying the budding romance between Captain Keller and Counselor Htennak.
 
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