Star Trek: Cayuga

While I'm cooped up at home under lockdown because of COVID-19, I've been writing.

Here's the link. Enjoy.

https://jackelmlinger.wordpress.com/2020/03/26/01-to-infinity-and-beyond/

 

Very nice, tightly written story with a number of intriguing characters. Wouldn't mind at all seeing more stories about this little ship and her captain with a seemingly dark past.

Good stuff!

 

I'm working on more stories about the Cayuga and her crew.

 

A very enjoyable tale about a small ship and her hard-pressed crew under dire circumstances. It's never easy for a crew to lose their captain, but it's even worse in this situation. I enjoyed the interplay between your well defined characters. Nicely done!

 

Thank you. Here is Star Trek: Cayuga - 02 'Cry of Deities'.
Enjoy!

https://jackelmlinger.wordpress.com/2020/03/27/star-trek-cayuya-02-cry-of-deities/

 

Star Trek: Cayuga - 03 - 'Fathers and Sons' is up for review. Enjoy.

https://jackelmlinger.wordpress.com/2020/03/28/03-fathers-and-sons/

 

Boy, you are really churning these things out now. Awesome. I've put them on my reading list. I'm sure I'll have plenty of opportunity to read these stories in the coming days.

 

I seem to have nothing but time to fill and my hands have to keep busy.

 

Star Trek: Cayuga


‘00:00’


By Jack Elmlinger



An ancient collection of dusty walls, the doors shattered almost instantly after a kick. Starfleet officers clad in black, gray, and gold uniforms stormed inside. The lights attached to their rifles cut through the gloom. One team rushed towards the cluster of cargo containers at the far end of the room.


The Lieutenant Commander in the lead motioned for the other teams to clear the rest of the rooms of the old book warehouse before she knelt down to examine the containers.


“Pavlova to Atlantis.”


A disembodied voice answered her. “Wintamba here. Go ahead.”


“The area is secure, and we found the supply containers,” Lieutenant Commander T’Phera Pavlova said as she rubbed at the grime on the container’s surface, clearing the identification stencil. “From the Warrior.”


The other security teams returned, shaking their heads in disappointment.


“Sorry, Captain, but there’s nobody here. The black market closed up shop here well before we showed up here.”


The line was silent for a few moments and the half-Vulcan woman thought she could feel her commanding officer’s irritation. “All right, Commander. Collect the containers and see if you can find any witnesses to how they got from the distribution center to here.”


“Yes, ma’am,” Pavlova said to the air before tapping her combadge. It had been another useless search. “Well, you heard the woman,” she told her security teams. “I don’t want to have to do this again. So let’s get it right this time.” she ignored their grumbling as her team shouldered their weapons.


The small gathering of Cardassians that had formed outside began to drift away as the Starfleet officer filed back outside. More than anyone, they hoped that the black marketeers would be caught that the food that they needed to live would be returned.


In a fair world, that would have been the case.


In the worlds of the former Cardassian Union, ‘fair’ was a forgotten concept.




* * * * * * * * * * * *


Without holodecks or any recreation facilities of any kind, the crew of the Cayuga was forced to create their own entertainment. One of those forms of entertainment that had become popular was the monthly play staged by the ship’s various departments. The Mess Hall’s tables had been pushed together into a makeshift stage and Sayvok and Aaron Connelly stood upon it.


“Not long after First Contact between Vulcans and Humans did both races begin to explore the other’s culture,” Aaron began to say.


Sayvok continued from his colleague’s cue. “This play is an example of such exploration. Written by T’Cam, it is based on late-twentieth-century ‘postmodern’ plays. It is titled,” And the Vulcan Walked in the Bar.”


Behind them, the stars abruptly shifted from blurs to points. From overhead on the shipwide intercom, Lieutenant Kietsev said,” All hands, if you’d care to look out the forward or port windows, I think you’ll be very impressed.”


Aaron and Sayvok lost their audience immediately. The room buzzed with anticipation as the first ship appeared, then the second, and then a hundred more ships.


Over the intercom, Keitsev announced,” Ladies and gentlemen, the Thirteenth Fleet.”


The viewports were clogged by crew members crowding around and straining to see Starfleet’s finest. As the crew pointed and shouted, the ships soared past them like great silver birds.


“Is that… is that…!”


“The Featherwind! My wife’s on that ship!”


“Look at that, a Prometheus class starship! It’s magnificent…”


The last of the ships finally flew past them, twisting into a graceful barrel-roll salute as it slipped by the viewport. A few officers waved back and then the crowd drifted back to their seats, chatting excitedly.


“I’ve never been upstaged by an entire fleet before,” Aaron sighed grudgingly as he glanced at Sayvok,” but I have to say that it’s nice knowing that we’ve got them looking out for us.”



* * * * * * * * * * * *



“... and I hope that you are fulfilled by ferrying supplies to murderers and tyrants. We’ll try not to miss you while we defend the Federation Goodbye.” This random transmission from the Wildcat, the flagship of the Thirteenth Fleet, cut abruptly, leaving the Bridge in silence.


“No need to be rude about it,” Keitsev said quietly. “I don’t like him at all.”


There was a moment of quiet before Commander zh’Tali, enthroned on the command chair, intoned,” Indeed.”


Keitsev checked his scanners. “The Thirteenth Fleet has gone to warp.”


“Return us to our previous course and speed, Helm.”


At the back of the Bridge, the turbolift door opened and Aimee Maguire walked out. She stormed over to the Captain’s Ready Room and let herself in, somehow making the automatic doors slam shut behind her.”


“Somebody is upset,” Keitsev observed.


“Lieutenant,” zh’Tali said, dryly,” your command over the obvious is captivating.”


* * * * * * * * * * * *


Jeanne Pozach had been raised to be a considerate person and to heed to the opinions of others. She had been told that these very attributes made her suited for command. However, as she sat in her Ready Room and listened to the tirade of her Chief Engineer, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and scream.


“I don’t see how any decent person could keep that woman in her current position,” Maguire snarled at her. Both of her palms were pressed against Pozach’s desk and she leaned in, even closer as she raged on. A tangle of her hair fell out of place and Jeanne buried the compulsion to brush it behind her ear. “She killed a man! Her report said so!”


From his seat opposite Captain Pozach, Lieutenant Brandon Hobbes said,” No one is denying that Commander zh’Tali killed that Cardassian, Lieutenant.” His hard face looked exhausted because he was just as tired of this argument as the captain war. “But can you deny that he was dangerous? A threat to others?”


Maguire twisted to one side to glare at the science officer but he held her gaze. “Aimee,” he said as evenly as he could,” we’ve been other this matter, four times in the past week alone. Commander zh’Tali did not act inappropriately.``


Maguire fumed a bit longer, trying to think of an untried approach to get her argument across. Finding none, she gave up, turned around, and stalked her way out of the ready room.


Pozach let out a breath. “Thanks,” she told Hobbes.


The science officer stood from his chair and he began to pace in front of her desk. “Maguire is acting… abrasively, but she does have a point.”


“What is that exactly?,” Pozach asked him, mildly.


Hobbes stopped pacing and looked at her. “zh’Tali is a frightening woman, Jeanne. She's entirely amoral. She was trained to kill, and she is very, very good at it.”


Pozach shifted in her chair so that she could keep one eye on the stars streaking past her window. “Most people would say that it’s not a bad thing to be good at what you’re trained for.”


“Yes,” he agreed with her,” but do we want a woman in command whose first trained instinct is to kill the problem? How the hell did she get into a position of command, anyways?”


“I don’t like it either,” the captain said, slowly while she still gazed out the window. Focusing her eyes, she turned towards Hobbes. “But she is still the First Officer of this ship.”


“There are better.”


“There are worse.”


Pozach’s combadge chirped and the voice of Ensign Polcheny announced over the intercom,” Captain, we’ve entered the Morock system. Sensors are showing the Starsong and Atlantis in-system in approximately twenty minutes.”


“I’ll be right out,” Jeanne replied to the summons. To Hobbes, she simply said,” We’ll have to finish this conversation later.” He nodded but he didn’t seem to be any more pleased than she was.


The doors to the Bridge opened as Polcheny was saying,” I really wouldn’t mind having Sean back.”


There was a snort from Keitsev at the Ops station. “Why? It took him four months to be able to walk onto the Bridge without looking like he stepped into something unpleasant.”


zh’Tali nodded to Pozach as she gave up the center seat. “You don’t like flying the ship, Ensign?,” the captain asked the young woman lightly as she sat down.


Polcheny’s eyes went wide with fear. “Oh, no, sir!” Her hand flew to the single pip shining on her maroon collar and in a quieter voice, she said,” It would just be nice to have him and Doctor Moru back, is all.”


Suppressing a smirk, Keitsev broke into the conversation. “Incoming message from the Starsong, sir. It’s Captain Weynik.”


The main viewscreen switched from a starfield to the view of a Bridge much like the one that Pozach was sitting on. Albeit, the Starsong’s bridge was larger with rounder curves colored dark blue and gunmetal gray which was usually seen in Excelsior-class starships. From the center seat, the miniature Roylan said,” Captain Pozach, we’re hosting the meeting aboard the Starsong. Please make your way aboard in half an hour.”


Pozach nodded at her fellow captain’s request. “Understood.” The viewscreen shifted back to the stars. This time with the silver hulls of the Starsong and the Atlantis in sight. “Commander, you have the Bridge. I’m going to prepare for the meeting.”


The door closed behind her as she left the Bridge. This caused Keitsev to smile. “A discrete rendezvous … a secret meeting between Captains… how exciting. How romantic.” He shot a look over at Polcheny. “It’s too bad that Sean couldn’t be here.”


She blushed and turned away.


* * * * * * * * * * * *


“Where was the Gorn Hegemony during the Dominion War?!,” demanded Councilor Addeh. Being seen on a monitor, Weynik reflected, did nothing to dampen his intensity. While good officers of our Starfleet fought for our lives and theirs, what was the Gorn doing? Attempting to make peace with the Dominion!” Addeh spread his arms before him, his face a mask of incredulity. “Could there be a greater crime than not standing to fight an evil as foul as the Dominion of the Founders?!”


Weynik sat silently in the Starsong’s conference room, watching the debate coming from the floor of the Federation Council Chambers. The room felt cold and the Roylan decided that it had nothing to do with the temperature controls.


“On this day, the first anniversary of the end of the Dominion War,” the Rigellian councilor said, continuing with his bitter speech. “I propose that sanctions be drafted against those races that didn’t see fit to join the Federation Alliance in defeating the Dominion. The Gorn, the Tzenkethi, the Talarians, and the Tholians -- they have all proven themselves not to be allies of the Federation. Why should we continue trading with them or supporting their scientific and political endeavors? They didn’t support us in our war to live.”


Weynik’s eyestalks grew into slits at the Rigellian's last words. While it was true that the Gorn, the Tzenkethi, the Talarians, the Tholians, and many more races had signed nonaggression pacts with the Dominion, one thought nagged at him, late at night.


They have been smart to keep themselves out of the killing and the slaughter. He had commanded the Ajax and the Starsong in more than three dozen major engagements during the war. While he certainly would have been grateful to have seen a squadron of Gorn destroyers flying to his rescue, he couldn’t blame them for not risking the wrath of the Dominion.


Heedless in his devotion, the Councilor from Rigel VIII continued to speak,” Furthermore, we must take measures to ensure that the people of the Federation are never again threatened by the Dominion or any of their allies. We already have a strong beginning with the crippling of the military and economic capabilities of the Cardassians and the Son’a as well as restrictions placed on the Breen and their military. But there needs to be more than that! I suggest the military occupations of Cardassia Prime and the Breen homeworld! The rest of the Galaxy will take their fates as examples of what evil will bring!”


The Rigellian councilor’s speech set the Council into an uproar, although it wasn’t as much of an uproar as Weynik would have liked. In the years before the war, punitive sanctions such as the likes of what Addeh was proposing, would have been unconscionable. Now it seemed that the movement to punish those had lost or remained neutral during the Dominion War was gaining dangerous power.


*They seem bloodthirsty.*


The voice echoed in his mind and Weynik turned to see Wintamba standing at the open door, watching him with her eyestalks. The Roylan woman stepped across the room and sat down on the table next to him.


“They… we’re still scared,” Weynik said, aloud. “How many millions died? And in the end, we couldn’t even bear the Dominion, just force them back to the Gamma Quadrant.” He reached out and took her hand. She smiled and he could feel her warmth through the telepathy that bound them together. “I think that people want vengeance. I know that there are enough strong captains out there who do --”


Wintamba brushed against his mind. *Shh… do you remember what you said to me, two years ago? When the war seemed to be at its worst?*


Weynik remembered her darkened quarters where she had held her and told her that Starfleet existed for more than killing and that it existed to explore and to protect. “I’m afraid that I might have lied,” he admitted to her.


Wintamba looked towards the door, slipping off of the table, and out of his grasp. An instant later, the doors parted aside and Captain Pozach stepped inside. “Captains,” she said. “Hello.” She took a seat across from Weynik.


Wintamba leaned forward and offered her hand. “You must be Jeanne Pozach,” she said without using her telepathy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Wintamba of the Atlantis.”


Relieved, Jeanne took her hand. “Thank you. I admit that I was surprised when we were pulled off our mission to meet here.”


Weynik took that as his cue to speak and nodded at her. “Unfortunately, delivering supplies has become a secondary concern,” the Roylan told her. “As Commander zh’Tali and Captain Wintamba have discovered, a black market for relief supplies has popped up. Admiral sh’Diaar has ordered that the marketeers be arrested so that the supplies that we bring into Cardassian space will get to the people who need them.”


Pozach frowned at this. “It’s not as if we haven’t been trying to catch the privateers ourselves. There’s simply too much ground for us to cover.” She glanced at the other captains, trying to express her opinion without seeming contrary because technically, she was the junior captain in the room. “Cayuga dropped off supplies at eleven Cardassian planets between Starbases Five-Seventy-Three and Two-One-Nine and that many again on the trip back. My ship simply doesn’t have the crew to spare, defending storage depots on nearly two dozen planets, including the colonies aided by civilian relief organizations.”


Weynik watched her coldly for a moment, then shrugged. “That’s a fair point, Captain. I was told that Admiral sh’Diaar requested vessels from the Thirteenth Fleet to aid us and Admiral Trenagen refused. It seems that the Thirteenth Fleet is needed where it is, reminding the Cardassians who is in charge. As it stands right now, the resources available to us are our three ships and the Warrior.” He smiled because he knew Captain Ghran of the Warrior would love the chance to chase down some black marketeers.


“Fortunately for us, I think I know how we can do it with less than that.” Wintamba looked at him but he continued,” And I think I know just the role for the Cayuga to play…”



* * * * * * * * * * * *



When the silvery glow of the transporter faded from around them, Wintamba and Hank Kimble stood on a darkened lawn. Several hundred feet away from them loomed a large mansion, lit only by a few lights.


“I thought that they had repaired the power systems on Cardassia Prime,” the Roylan woman said.


Kimble shook his head. “The damage done by the Jem’hadar at the end of the war is going to take years to fully repair. Even richer neighborhoods like this one don’t have the resources to make much headway.” Atlantis’ Chief Engineer shrugged his shoulders, continuing with his explanation. “The Starfleet Corps of Engineers is here and on other Cardassian worlds doing what they can but -- “


Wintamba held up a hand, interrupting him. “We’re about to be addressed.”


The massive front doors of the mansion swung open and an elderly Cardassian slowly walked towards them. “Are you the representatives from Starfleet that we were asked to admit?,” the butler asked them.


“Yes,” Wintamba said, advancing towards him and bowing her head slightly. “I’m Captain Wintamba of the Atlantis. My companion is Lieutenant Kimble and we would like to speak with your master, please.”


The Cardassian nodded at the Roylan woman’s request. “Right this way, My Lady.”


When compared to the desolate rubble that made up most of the capital city of the Cardassian homeworld, the interior of the mansion seemed to be made up of another world entirely. Torches had been placed to excellent effect, giving it an almost rustic feel rather than one of the primitive conditions. In front of a large stone fireplace sat a Cardassian aristocrat who dismissed the butler with a wave of his hand.


“I am Toret, formerly a Legate of the Cardassian Central Command. I agreed to this meeting out of a sense of gratitude towards the Federation after all that you have done for us.” His gaze lowered and met Wintamba’s and held it. “How may I help you?”


Wintamba seated herself next to him. Kimble positioned himself behind her massively overstuffed armchair, giving no indication that he noticed the lack of a seat for him. “I’m thankful for this audience, Legate. Please understand that we have only the Cardassian people’s best interests in mind.”


“Of course,” Toret said dryly.


“The matter that concerns us is the black market that has appeared on Cardassia Prime and many other worlds across your space. It seems that there are vagabonds who would steal the supplies intended for starving civilians. Honestly, I find the concept disturbing.”


Toret snorted at this. “A response is to be expected from a telepathic race such as the Roylans.”


Wintamba plastered a smile on her face. “Very true,” she said, even though it was only one percent of Roylan females that showed any tendency towards telepathy,” but the simple fact of the matter is that we don’t have the resources to stop these marketeers. We have only four starships charged with covering more than five dozen worlds. My vessel, Atlantis, as well as the Starsong and the Warrior are attempting to track down and capture the marketeers but we’re stretched out pretty thin.”


“You said four ships,” the former Legate interrupted her. “What was the last one?”


Wintamba paused, thinking,” Hank, what is that other ship? The little one?”


The engineer looked down at her in surprise. “The Cayuga? She’s picking up the slack in delivering supplies. She’s fully loaded and heading to the Sorrot system from Averral IV, I think.”


Atlantis’ captain smiled. “What he said.” She leaned forward and added,” I hope that you understand the difficulties that we face.”


“I do,” Toret said, eyeing her. “I suspect that you have a request to make of me?”


“Yes,” the Roylan said, smiling with relief that she didn’t feel at all. “I came to you because I’ve been told that you still wield much power among the civil and military authorities here on Cardassia Prime. I hope that you can be convinced to extend some of your influence to aid us.”


Toret opened his hands to her. “How so, Captain Wintamba?”


“Perhaps by increasing patrols around the supply depots or by enlisting some sort of civilian watch. Anything that could help us bring these brigands to justice.”


“I will speak to my associates.” Toret rose from his chair and Wintamba stood to match him. “Until later, then?”


Wintamba took his hand and shook it gratefully. “Yes, until later. Good evening.”


The elderly Cardassian butler led them outside again and the captain took a moment to enjoy the cool air. It almost reminded her of her home planet of Royla.


“So much for him as a suspect,” Kimble said from beside her. “He didn’t give up a thing.”


“No,” the captain said,” but we did.” She smiled at his confusion and tapped her combadge. “Wintamba to Atlantis, two to beam up.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * *


“I heard that they have chefs aboard the Starsong,” Sam Dixon said, glancing across the long table before looking down at his plate of replicated food with a sigh.


Next to him, Aimee Maguire twisted a strand of her blond hair around and around. “I doubt it. There hasn’t been a chief aboard a Starfleet ship in seventy years.”


“So what do you think we’re going to do now?,” Keitsev asked them. Dixon followed his gaze out the front window to what the Starsong majestically dominated the view. “I heard that the captain’s not saying anything,” he continued slyly, turning towards Maguire.


“You’re right,” she said coldly. “She’s not saying anything. So leave it.”


Keitsev shot a look at Dixon. “Did I catch you at a bad time, sir?,” he asked the Chief Engineer.


“You want to know why I’m angry? I’m angry because Pozach refused to put that psychopath zh’Tali in the Brig!”


Keitsev frowned at her outburst. “Why would she do that?”


For a few moments, Maguire simply stared at him, dumbfounded. Dixon slowly shifted away from her, attempting to intervene with a hesitant,” Sweetie?”


“She should do it,” she interrupted him,” because that woman is insane. She isn’t what a Starfleet officer is supposed to be.”


“I think you’re looking at her in the wrong way,” the ops officer said, leaned back in his chair easily. “She killed a Cardassian. So what? It’s because of Commander zh’Tali and people like her that the Federation made it through the war.” He paused contemplatively before adding,” If you ask me, she’s a hero.”


Maguire buried her face in her hands before fixing him with a disgusted look. “Think about what they taught us at the Academy. We explore strange, new worlds. We seek out new lifeforms and new civilizations. None of that includes killing people!”


“See, that’s where you and I differ,” Vasily told her,” about the role of Starfleet. I mean, yes, it’s great for us to find new species, explore new worlds, and all of that. While we’re off becoming enlightened, what about the rest of the Federation? Do you know what I was taught at the Academy? That those of us in these uniforms are the only line of defense between the citizens of the Federation and whoever would harm them. Whether they’re Jem’hadar, Borg, or whatever else is out there in this Galaxy. This is our job.”


He rose from his seat and dropped his napkin onto his plate. “Davi zh’Tali has done more to defend the Federation than anyone else on this ship.”


With that said, he turned and stalked his way out of the Mess Hall, leaving Maguire and Dixon to sit there in silence.


* * * * * * * * * * * *



“Captain,” I’m reading them again,” Lieutenant Keitsev announced, breaking the uncomfortable silence on the Bridge. “Sensors are detecting disturbances on the edge of our sensor range.”


zh’Tali’s eyes slid over to Pozach as the captain let out a measured sigh. “Have Lieutenant Maguire run another diagnostic on the sensors.”


Keitsev paused for a minute before saying,” Captain, this is the second time in the last forty minutes that sensors have picked up these things. I don’t think that they’re sensor ghosts.”


“What would they be, Lieutenant?,” zh’Tali asked him, standing on the right side of the command chair.


“Cloaked ship,” the operations officer said, raising his chin at her challenge,” or vessels at the extreme edge of our sensor range, following us and attempting not to be seen.”


“Maybe they’re ghost ships,” Polcheny said before she blinked. “Do ghost ships have treasure?”


Pozach turned to face Keitsev. “Personally I doubt that cloaked ships would randomly follow us halfway across the sector. Don’t worry about it, Lieutenant.”


“Sir,” he began to say.


“Don’t,” the captain repeated herself,” worry.”


Ensign Polcheny frowned at Keitsev who fidgeted with his console. Captain Pozach went back to drumming her fingers on her chair’s armrests, and even zh’Tali seemed to be restless.


“Captain,” the Andorian zhen began to say,” we’ve been on this course for a week now with nothing … out of the ordinary. Perhaps we should…”


Pozach stood up from her command chair and began walking circuits around the Bridge. She swiped the helm console for dust and poked her fingers through the holographic image of the viewscreen. “Commander, I was once told that all things come to those who wait.” She paced around a little more before she murmured,” and we will wait.”


She wandered over to the dedication plaque mounted on the starboard bulkhead. “Did anyone know that this ship was built at the Antares Shipyards?”


“Fascinating,” Keitsev said drolly.


“And the man who designed her security systems now commands the Surefoot?” She traced a finger along the bottom-most line of text on the plaque. “‘There’s the known and the unknown; in between there are doors,’” she read.


“New sensor readings,” Keitsev interrupted her.


“More ghost ships?,” Polcheny asked him.


Keitsev shook his head. “No, it’s a Cardassian freighter and it’s putting out a general distress signal.”


zh’Tali caught Pozach’s eye. The captain walked back to her seat with more vigor than she had shown in the past several days. “On screen.”


“Audio only. I’m patching it in.”


The speakers crackled with static. “To any ship that can hear us, we are the Cardassian merchant freighter Bokmal, out of Cardassia Prime. We have been attacked by Maquis raiders and our drive systems are off-line. Please assist.”


“Bokmal, this is the Federation starship Cayuga. We will arrive at your location shortly. Hold on.” “Pozach tapped her armrest as she sat down in her chair. “Put the ship on screen.”


The cargo ship appeared on screen, spinning end over end and spilling plasma from its warp drive into space. “Negligible damage to the outer hull,” zh’Tali observed with a suspicious glare.


“Too bad,” Keitsev said coldly before he remembered himself,” but that is real plasma that they’re venting into space.”


“Dropping out of warp…,” Polcheny announced,” now.”


Pozach sat up in her seat. “Helm, bring us within thirty thousand kilometers of them. Mister Keitsev, steady them with the tractor beam.”


“Captain, energy readings aboard the Bokmal just shot through the roof.” Keitsev’s voice was tight with stress. “The Cardies have their warp drives back on-line and I’m reading a serious buildup--”


“Red alert,” zh’Tali said, interrupting him. “Raise shields.”


The deck buckled under a weapons strike. Pozach gritted her teeth but she held on.


“They fired on us,” Keitsev yelled after checking his board,” before we got our shields up! They’ve damaged the shield generators!”


“Bridge to Security,” Pozach said, quietly after tapping her combadge. “Prepare to be boarded.”


“Boarded?,” Polcheny asked her. “Why would they --”


“Reading transporter signatures!,” Keitsev interrupted her. “Intruders have been detected on Decks Four, Nine, and Eleven!”


“Captain,” her Andorian first officer said, turning to face her captain,” I believe now would be an appropriate time.”


Pozach nodded and she rushed off of the Bridge.


Keitsev looked angrily when he turned from his board to face Pozach. “Captain, aren’t we going to return fire on the Cardies?!,” he demanded to know because the heat of battle was upon the young operations officer and in his blood.


The Red Alert klaxon sounded twice before she spoke. “I would thank you not to use racial slurs on my Bridge.” She turned to face the lieutenant and continued with,” And no.”


“But,” sputtered the lieutenant,” they’re Cardassians! Why the hell not?!”


A faint smile spread across her lips. “Because, Mister Keitsev, there are better ways to resolve conflicts than fighting.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *



Sam Dixon flattened himself against the bulkhead as another disruptor erupted near him. The Cardassians were laying down a barrage that was thick enough to keep anyone from getting near the cargo bay that they were holed up in. The security officer swore to himself as he failed to line up another shot with his hand phaser. Over the scream of phaser fire, he could hear the whine of a transporter as the Cardassians stole more of the relief supplies.


A Cardassian leaned past the carbon-scorched doors. The barrel of his disruptor was questing for a target, only for its owner to fall to Dixon’s expert marksmanship.


Taking advantage of the break in the weapons fire, he yelled,” Ntannu! Cover me!” He charged into the cargo bay, rolling through the door and coming up with his phaser ready.


There was a moment when the Cardassians did nothing but smirk. Because at that moment, they and the last of the supply containers disappeared into the golden mist of a transporter effect.


The security officer swore and slammed his fist into the wall. He grimaced in pain for a moment before he tapped his combadge. “Dixon to Bridge. The intruders got away, Captain.”


He expected anger from her, perhaps yelling of some sort. Instead, Captain Pozach simply asked him,” Did they capture all of the cargo containers?”


Dixon surveyed the empty room. “Yes, sir,” he said, quietly.


“Good.”


He looked up in surprise. “Sir?”


The line clicked off.


* * * * * * * * * * * *



When there was no one there to greet them as they stepped off of the shuttlecraft, Sean Pasko began to realize just how bad things were. Shouldering his travel carryall, he left the shuttle bay while Doctor Moru headed for Sickbay. He joined the press of the ship’s crew streaming through the corridors darkened for the ship's night.


Engineering was in better shape than he would have expected, given the air of general panic throughout the ship. Chief Engineer Maguire was standing, waist-deep, in an access panel in front of the warp core. She was tugging out isolinear chips and bio-neural gel packs, tossing them aside. She didn’t notice him approaching until he plunked down next to her with a grin.


“I see that you all had some fun without me,” he said, lightly.


Maguire was startled at first by his presence. But then she glared at him as she shifted a strand of hair out of her face. “While you were out, having fun, the rest of us were being ambushed.”


“Ambushed?”


“Yes, by the Cardassians and it wasn’t fun either. They boarded us and stole all of the supplies that we were carrying,” she said as she began to separate the piles of isolinear chips and gel packs. “They took out our shield generators and one of their boarding teams hooked up a device to the power distribution system that kicked a lot of systems out of whack, including the warp drive. That, I can tell you, certainly kept us from chasing after them.”


“Well,” Pasko said as he stood up from where he was sitting,” look at it this way. Now you’ve got plenty of opportunities to use your fancy techno-babble.”


“I would appreciate it,” Maguire shot back at him, grimly,” if you didn’t refer to what I do as ‘techno-babble’” An alarm began beeping from the access panel. “Oh, for… Zehna, I told you! Ramp up the magnetic constrictors to shut off the matter and antimatter flows, then run alignments checks on the dilithium crystal articulation frame. You’re never going to get a clear reading on it if you’ve got deuterium and anti-deuterium flying around!”


Grinning to himself, Pasko left Engineering. Shadows failed to hide the carbon scoring around the cargo bays. He whistled quietly and tapped his combadge,” Commander, locate Commander zh’Tali.”


The computer beeped for attention before saying,” Commander zh’Tali is not aboard the Cayuga.”


He frowned at this information. “Okay, locate Captain Pozach.”


“Captain Pozach is in the Mess Hall,” replied the calm voice of the ship’s computer.


Pasko turned away to find a turbolift but he paused to say,” Thanks,” before heading off.


The Mess Hall was deserted. Its tables cast long shadows over the piano where Pozach sat. her fingers danced across the keys and the pilot cleared his throat. She stopped playing, only to turn to face him.


“Sean, welcome back.”


The lieutenant straightened to attention. “Permission to come aboard, sir.”


“Granted. How was your trip home?” She straddled the piano beach and Pasko turned a chair around to sit across from her.


“It was… enlightening… especially after listening to Doc Moru tell me about his father. But it was good to be with my family for a bit.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Ran into Aimee on the way here. She was pretty angry about all of the extra work that you seem to have picked up.”


“I would imagine so.” Her tone wasn’t sharp but he still shifted uncomfortably in his seat.


Pozach sighed. “We got tricked by a fake distress call from a Cardassian freighter. They jumped us and stole the relief supplies.”


“I tried to report in to Commander zh’Tali, but the computer said that she wasn't aboard. Do you know where she is?”


The ship’s chimes quietly declared the midnight hour and Pozach chuckled to herself before she turned back to the piano. She searched its top for a moment before she pulled down a sheet of music. “Sean,” she said, placing the music in front of her and running her finger across the title,” I know exactly where Commander zh’Tali is…”



* * * * * * * * * * * *



The base’s cargo bay was Cardassian in design. It was colored brown and gold with arches that stretched up to the ceiling. Federation cargo containers were spread across the floor with the top off of one of them popped open. Silently, a figure dressed in black climbed out, carrying an ax.


Down the hallway, a voice drifted in from the operations center. “The starship has crippled the Bokmal! Their shields are down to seventy-six percent from one hit. One hit!”


“Did the distress signal get through to Toret?”


“Yes, but…”


“What?!”


“He says we’re on our own.”


“That’s an Excelsior-class starship! What does he think we’re going to do?”


There was much swearing and the black-clad figure strode into the operations room to say in a harsh Cardassian dialect,” You are all under arrest. Lower your weapons and put your hands in the air.”


A dozen Cardassian soldiers looked up from their monitors in surprise.


“Who the hell are you?,” one of them asked, the rank markers of a Glinn on his uniform.


“My name is Davi zh’Tali, and you’re all under arrest. Lower your weapons and put your hands in the air.” The Andorian stepped forward, her kar’takin held loosely in front of her.


The Cardassians traded incredulous looks with each other and a few smirks appeared. “Yes, of course,” the Glinn said with a sinister smile. “Harrek, Duni, would you kill her?”


“Thank you,” zh’Tali whispered and with a slight pop of her neck, she began to move.


* * * * * * * * * * * *



“Excellent,” Wintamba said before she deactivated her combadge. She turned towards T’Phera Pavlova and the squad of security officers that waited with her on the front lawn of the mansion. “Starsong tracked the ship that attacked the Cayuga back to its base and they’re capturing both now. The distress signal from the base was directed to this house.” She gestured towards the mansion. “Go.”


Pavlova led her squad to the front door and rapped on it sharply. The aged butler opened it and looked at her with surprise. “You are not expected.”


“I should hope not,” Atlantis’ security chief said, pushing the door open to allow her and her security officers inside. “We’re here for your master. Where is he?”


“What is the meaning of this?!,” Toret’s voice boomed down from the staircase.


Wintamba stepped forward, framing herself in front of the lit fireplace. “Sir, I have reason to believe that you are somehow involved in the theft of Federation relief supplies.” She motioned towards Pavlova. “I’m sure that if you don’t mind chatting with my Security Chief about it, then all of this can be cleared up in no time. After all… we’re all civilized individuals.”


* * * * * * * * * * * *



To say that there was blood everywhere was something less of either an understatement or an exaggeration. There were portions of the ceiling that still retained their original color. Along the walls lay the Cardassians, dead, maimed, or otherwise pacified.


zh’Tali looked up at the three Starfleet officers who had beamed into the operations center. They looked at the carnage around them and then at the woman who knelt untouched at the center of it all.


Hideo Namachi took in the corpses stoically and asked,” Is the base secure?”


“Yes, Commander,” replied the zhen.


“I see,” the Starsong’s first officer said,” and the stolen cargo?”


zh’Tali nodded towards the door. “Down that hallway.”


Namachi sent the security officers to secure the containers before regarding the Andorian. “Impressive work. I thought that only Klingons and the Jem’hadar were this… savage.”


zh’Tali stared at him before she rose to her feet. “Beam me aboard. I wish to return to my ship.”


* * * * * * * * * * * *



It seemed that even on the decimated world of Sorrot Minor, there could be a celebration. From her perch atop a container, Captain Pozach watched the Cardassians’ first moment of joy since the black market had come with a smile on her face.


“Captain Weynik is looking for you,” said a voice from behind her. “There is a celebration among the command staffs of the successful completion of the operation. He was surprised that you didn’t attend.”


Pozach turned and watched zh’Tali for a long moment. “I am celebrating. Here.” She motioned at the crowd of Cardassians. “I helped distribute the supplies. It seemed like a better use of my time.”


“True,” the Andorian said evenly.


Neither woman said anything for a very long time. zh’Tali, because she had nothing to say, and Pozach, because she had to find the words inside herself. Finally she opted for the simple approach after considering and dismissing numerous rants and speeches.


“You killed.”


zh’Tali nodded sheepishly. “Seven fatalities. The remaining Cardassians are expected to make full recoveries within the next three weeks, according to Doctor Moru.”


Pozach closed her eyes and a hint of steel worked its way into her voice. “I asked you not to kill, Davi.”


“An unreasonable request that you shouldn’t have made, Captain.”


“All right,” the captain said, sliding off of the container,” let me ask you this, Commander. What makes us, as Starfleet officers and citizens of the Federation, morally superior to the Jem’hadar?”


zh’Tali’s eyes lowered into slits as she rose to the bait. “The predisposition to act in a manner consistent with the morals of the Federation, presumably.”


“Virtues like mercy apply. You didn’t have to kill any of them but you did. How can you claim to defend the virtues of the Federation when you refuse to exercise them?”


“A good question. Allow me to pose a similar question to you. Was it the Federation’s morality or its mercy that allowed us to defeat the Dominion and their Jem’hadar?”


“I…,” Pozach began before pausing,” I suppose not. War tests our virtues not supports them.”


“Exactly,” zh’Tali said with a hiss, surprising the captain with her sudden intensity,” the Federation’s lofty ideals cannot survive their encounters with the Galaxy around them. That’s why there will always be people who stand aside from those ideals, ready to protect them.”


“We can resolve our conflicts before they result in death.”


“Spoken like someone who has never fought before,” the First Officer said, icily. “Will mercy towards a Jem’hadar convince it that peace is the proper path? No.” She cut the air with her hand. “It will give it another opportunity to kill you and it will take it.”


zh’Tali stepped closer to her and the captain could feel the other woman’s body vibrating with repressed rage. “The society that you’re so proud of would not be possible,” she continued,” if not for individuals willing to damn themselves to ensure that you can keep your… virtues.”


Pozach tried to lock states with zh’Tali and failed miserably. She looked down at the ground and listened to her start to walk away and then pause in her stance.


“Although,” the commander said,” without those virtues, the Federation wouldn’t be worth damning oneself for.”


Pozach looked up in surprise at this admission but zh’Tali was gone.



The End...

 

Still making my way through these. Finished Cry of Deities.

Man, zh'Tali is a trip. I'm not sure yet if she is sociopath or if she is suffering from PTSD. But I like her. Not her actions of course, but the way her mere existence causes such Maguire such anguish even in this post-Dominion War galaxy where Starfleet officers are obviously not used for one of their own to take such drastic measures. I'm curious to see what kind of repercussions this episode will have for all involved.

Also enjoyed the main story line although I had an inkling where that was going once we met the inhabitants. Still a gut-punch of an ending, especially for Jeanne who gets nothing but bad news in this story. And considering the new XO's tendencies, things aren't going to get better soon.

Great story, made me eager to read more. Also, amazing job with the series cover.

 

Thank you. The cover was done by JonBromie01 at Deviant Art so I can't take credit for it.

 

@admiralelm11 I haven't had a chance to read this yet, but I did notice the double-spacing between paragraphs. Assuming you didn't mean to do that, I suspect you copy/paste form Word, no? Use Shift-Ctrl-V when you paste to get plain text. That will single-space it, but you might also lose any bold/italic/underline formats.

 

I'm using Google Word and I'm not double-spacing between paragraphs. It's just how it comes out in the final draft.
Anyways, enjoy this next installment.


Star Trek: Cayuga


‘The Jeanne Pozach Story”



By Jack Elmlinger




Jim Morrison’s unblinking stare was beginning to disturb her.


Jeanne blearily considered the poster from the center of her bed. Sleep eluded her and even the threat of duty in four hours couldn’t force herself to find it. “Fine,” she mumbled, struggling out of bed. She stood up, pulled some clothes on and measured herself in the mirror. Vaguely satisfied by what she saw, she left her quarters.


Why Aimee?


Of all people, why Aimee?


The question chased itself around her mind for over the last three months. It was only now when she was too tired to ignore it that she allowed herself to attempt answering it. Aimee was certainly attractive enough. The way that she twisted her blonde hair around those hair pins was obviously enticing enough. And her body…


Jeanne clamped down on that thought. Their relationship couldn’t have been solely based on the physical. They were both mature, modern women, and mature, modern women didn’t undermine their own command for simple lust. It was unconscionable.


She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she almost missed the oddity. She stopped and turned, frowning. On the wall was a door that shouldn’t have been there. The Captain was sure that it shouldn’t have been there because she made it a point to walk every meter of the Cayuga when she first came aboard and she liked to think that she knew her ship quite well.


With that said, the door looked like it belonged because it was the same size, the same metallic gray as every other door on this deck. Jeanne squinted to read the name on the door panel.


“The Captain’s Table?,” she murmured, confused. “I have a table. It’s in my quarters.” She pondered, sleepily, for a few moments before curiosity got the better of her. She keyed in her access code on the keypad and the door opened.


The room was made entirely out of wood, from the rafters, to the window frames, to the bar, and to the tables. It was filled with aliens from all over the Federation and some that Jeanne hadn’t ever seen before. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, sharing conversations and alcohol freely. They were generally having the sort of time that someone should have in a bar.


She just stood there inside the threshold of the doorway, considering her options. The Cayuga had no holodecks which ruled them out so she decided that the mysterious room could have been the work of an advanced alien intelligence or perhaps some kind of space-time anomaly. Both ways around it, there was a bar and Jeanne thought that it was a good place to sit.


“Hello, Jeanne Pozach.”


Next to her sat a man dressed in black so dark that his skin seemed to glow while against it. His eyes were black to match, voids into where she could see stars.


“Hello,” she said. “You have me at a disadvantage. Do you have a name?”


“Several,” replied the mystery man. Jeanne waited for me to elaborate but she was left in silence.


“Well, maybe you could explain this to me?”


“It’s a bar.”


Irritation began to bubble in the Cayuga’s captain. “Yes, I know that it’s a bar, but why is it here? What’s it doing on my ship?”


“This place has always been here. It’s available to every individual who leads others, to share the burden of responsibility,” he said, motioning to the bar in front of her where a tall glute of Bajoran spring wine had inexplicably appeared before her. “Drink as much as you like, but bear in mind that each drink must be paid for with a story. That is the rule of this place.”


“Oh,” Jeanne said, with the earnestness of someone realizing that the Earth was round,” of course, I’m dreaming.”


The man looked at her sternly. “Isn’t that not where all great stories come from?””


“I guess you’d know,” she said. “After all, you’re the dream.” She lifted the glass and stood. “Thanks for the drink.”


She wandered between the tables, looking for a place to sit. Across the room, she spied a piano that was far more impressive than the one in the Cayuga’s Mess Hall. The man who sat upon its bench wore an anachronistic tuxedo and Jeanne had to admit, was stunningly handsome. With him sat an Orion in a uniform that she didn’t recognize.


“I don’t think that I’ve had a dream that’s this lucid before,” she said to them as she sat down on the end of the piano bench,” but as they do, this one’s pretty nice.”


The well-dressed man smiled at her. “The commander was just telling me about a battle he once had with a group of… I’m sorry, who were they?”


“Klingons,” the Orion said slowly, his gaze piercing Jeanne. “You are Human.”


“As a matter of fact, I am,” she replied lightly,” but I was born on Intooine. Have you heard of it? It’s near the Neutral Zone.” The Orion nodded and Jeanne smiled. Turning to the other man, she asked him,” So, what about your story?”


“Unlike you and Raloch, I’m not here to tell stories. I just play the piano.”


“Well, sing me a song!,” Jeanne laughed before she took a sip of her wine. “I’m in the mood for a melody.”


The man raised a finger. “You must remember the rule. Then I’ll play a song for you.”


She frowned at him. “You want a story,” she hedged, shaking her head,” but I don’t really have any.”


“Nonsense,” the well-dressed man said. “You’re a captain. You must have some story, somewhere inside of you.”


A wry smile spread across Jeanne’s face. “I never wanted to be a Captain.”


“And yet here you are. And that sounds like a story in itself.” He leaned forward and asked,” What did you want to be?”


“Anything but what I was…”


* * * * * * * * * * * *


The shuttlecraft punched through San Francisco’s thick early morning fog and through her window, Jeanne could see the extensive gardens of Starfleet Academy. Quiet gasps went up from the other cadets-to-be but her face remained carefully impassive. The shuttle’s door opened majestically and the cadets stepped out into San Francisco’s cool, slick air. She followed slowly, her bag clutched to her chest.


“Cadets!,” a voice boomed across the landing ground. To Starfleet Academy, I do welcome you.”


In unison, the cadets turned to see a short, child-sized, green-sized alien with large ears and a cranial ridge, wearing a red and black uniform. Looking at his easy smile, they were visibly relaxed. Beside Jeanne, a cadet whispered,” I hope he’s my quad advisor.” With a forced smile, she nodded, fumbling with her bag before she finally settled on holding it at her side.


“Passed, you have, some of the most rigorous entrance exams of any institution,” the alien officer continued with his speech. “Represent, you do, the one hundred and forty-six worlds of the United Federation of Planets. The best, you are, and the brightest.”


Jeanne was startled at the polite clapping that the pronouncement inspired.


“Gotten here, you have. The hard part, now, it comes. Your orientation leaders, behind me, they are. Take you to your registration centers, they will, for your quads.”


The crowd bustled around her and her gaze darted anxiously, searching and debating. In less than it took to tell, she stood alone on the landing ground.


* * * * * * * * * * * *



“You know, Earth isn’t really that bad. I mean, it’s a little that the oceans aren’t purple or anything but I’m trying to get beyond what I know, you know?”


Savirri Nol had entered the Academy at the earliest opportunity. Possibly because his family couldn’t stand to have him around anymore. He was talkative for a Zakdorn and he seemed to be desperately energetic. She had never met a Catullan before and she wondered if they were all this rambunctious.


“Does anyone else have any questions about Earth?,” their orientation leader asked them. “Only a small percentage of cadets originate from Earth or Earth colonies so it’s expected that the majority of you will need time to get used to the environment here.”


The small sea of cadets looked at each other with uncertainty and slowly Jeanne raised her hand. The orientation leader, who had early introduced himself as Craig Burns, smiled at her encouragingly.


“Does it always rain down here?,” she asked him.


The other cadets shot each other with confused looks. “As opposed to raining up?,” one of them asked her, sarcastically.


Jeanne shook her head, feeling a burn in her cheeks. “N-never mind.”


“No, it’s all right,” Burns said, casting an irritated look at the cadet who had spoken. “On Earth, precipitation always falls with gravity.”


“Oh,” Jeanne said. “It’s just that on Intooine, we have these cliffs in the Citan Province. I-in the morning, when the sun comes up, its heat reacts with the cold air from the night before and the rain,” -- she glanced around --,” goes up. It’s very pretty.”


Burns nodded thoughtfully. “There’s nothing quite like that here on Earth. When you get a free evening, you might want to beam over to Niagara Falls. It’s one of the most impressive waterfalls on the planet.”


Jeanne accepted the information with a smile. She settled back and tried to make herself as small as possible. The rest of the meeting flowed over her.



* * * * * * * * * * * *



Jeanne sat on the edge of her bed, contemplating the black and red uniform that lay across her lap. She toyed with her year pip and combadge, passing them between her hands. The door swooshed open and she hid the pins in the palm of her hand. A woman with blue skin, long-braided white hair and antennae strode in.


“Hello,” the Andorian whispered brightly at her.


“H-hello. I’m Jeanne.”


The Andorian held out a hand and she awkwardly unfolded her free hand to shake Jeanne’s hand. “I am sh’Vhani,” the shen said. “We will be living together.”


Jeanne nodded and her mouth worked. “Are you a first year?”


“Oh, no, I’m in my third year,” sh’Vhani said, fingering her third year pips. “HAve you had an opportunity to view your welcoming communique?”


“Communique?”


sh’Vhani smiled indulgently and led Jeanne over to her computer. “Yes, here you are,” she said, calling up Jeanne’s inbox. “This is your class schedule. This is your welcome to the quad,” -- sh’Vhani’s antennae perked up in surprise- ,”and here is a letter from the Academy superintendent.” She glanced at her. “Were you expecting that?”


Jeanne frowned at her question and gestured haltingly towards the screen. “Could you… bring that up?”


The screen flashed to black and two lines of text appeared before them.


“Cadet Pozach, report to Admiral Tohan immediately,” sh’Vhani said, checking for any attachments or further explanations for the summons. She found none. “I’ve never seen that before -- “


“The news is out.”


At the panicked hiss, sh’Vhani turned to her roommate with a startled look on her face. Jeanne had backed completely against the wall and her eyes were wide with fear.


“They’ve finally found me!”


“What?”


The flame of terror in her eyes subsided as Jeanne swallowed deeply and shuddered. “I-I-I-I’d better go see the Commandant.” She turned around and fled their room.


“Aren’t you going to unpack first?,” her roommate called after her.


* * * * * * * * * * * *



There were stars in the sky. They seemed to be obscured by the lights of the Academy and those of San Francisco. Jeanne lay on her back and she tried to count them, but the thoughts that she was trying to distract away from kept interrupting her. She couldn’t run any farther. On Intooine, it had been easy enough to quietly buy passage on a starliner and slip away. However, this was Earth, the heart of the Federation. The only consolation that she had was that she had yet to be arrested.


Jeanne clenched at the grass underneath her and pulled, tossing it up into the air. The kindness of the Starfleet commander who had found her on Ven’shalliy IV and his willingness to sponsor her applications for admission to the Academy had given her direction to her life. It had also given her the idea that the Academy could be a place where she might learn to live with herself again.


The stars winked down as she sat up, slowly, she stood and began the walk to the Superintendent's building.


* * * * * * * * * * * *



Jeanne stood, while feeling small, in front of the large double doors of the Superintendent’s building. The rounded curves and soothing blues suggested that the decor had been imbued with a deliberately calming tone.


It failed to calm her at all.


“Cadet Pozach,” said the lieutenant sitting behind the secretary’s desk,” you may enter now.”


Timidly, Jeanne opened the doors a crack and slipped through them. Three people were staring at her, all of them admirals. Admiral Tohan was seated behind an opulent desk with the other two admirals sitting in flanking armchairs. None of them offered her a place to sit.


“C-cadet Pozach reporting,” she stuttered,” sirs.” She was suddenly very aware of the admirals’ uniforms and her lack of one of her own.


Tohan watched her through steady and experienced eyes. “Jeanne Pozach, know why you are here, do you?,” he asked her.


Jeanne opened her mouth to answer him but she couldn’t force sound from her throat. Instead, she nodded her response to him.


The Horrusi admiral tapped a PADD on his desk, which was mounted on a high platform, because of his small statue. “Given what, learned we have, a reason, can you give us? Deported back to Intooine, why should you not be?”


Jeanne’s eyes searched the carpet below her feet. She frowned before she slowly looked up at him, if only for a minute. “Here, on Earth.” She glanced at Tohan’s eyes, and then just as quickly, darted her gaze away from him. “I thought I could -- I came here because I want to -- to be different. Better. Because that couldn’t happen on Intooine.”


The admirals exchanged long and thoughtful glances between themselves. Tohan examined the PADD at length before returning it to his desktop. “My belief, it is, Cadet, a crime of passion, still a crime, it is. Unlikely, I understand, for you to act again. Decided, the Intooine government had, not, to press charges against you.”


Jeanne blinked at his words. “Th-th-they have?”


Tohan nodded, smiling as he stood. “To Starfleet Academy, I welcome you, Cadet. Survive the experience, I hope you do.”


* * * * * * * * * * * *



sh’Vhani was waiting for her when Jeanne returned to their room. “What did the Admiral want?,” she asked her.


Jeanne blinked and answered slowly. “They, uh, got in some of my documentation late. And he wanted to talk about it.”


The Andorian shen smiled, nodding. “The quad is going to the Launching Pad tonight. It’s an off-campus social club. Would you like to come?”


The corners of Jeanne’s eyes crinkled into a faint smile. “I would.”


* * * * * * * * * * * *



The well-dressed man raised an eyebrow. “Well, it seems that you’ve succeeded. You’re hardly the woman now that you were then.”


Jeanne smiled down at the little liquor that remained of her drink. “I grew up. I changed,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I couldn’t just stay timid.”


“Changing oneself can be the most difficult thing,” Raloch observed.


“I did promise you a song,” the well-dressed man said,” and I think I know which one you’ll like.”


“Oh, that’s all right,” she said as she stood up. “I have to go wake up. I’m sure that it’s almost time for me to be on-duty.”


“If you get home before daylight, you might just get some sleep tonight,” the well-dressed man told her. “Never mind the darkness of space.” He smiled and Jeanne was gone.



The End...

 

If anyone asks, I used the physical characteristics of Yoda for the Horrusi race.

 

Fathers and Sons was a nice little, change-of-pace, character vignette which helps further flesh out your characters as father and son clash over their philosophical differences which, although not a new argument, seems more timely than ever for these characters.

 

Thank you!

 

Star Trek: Cayuga

‘Patriotic Chorus - Part One’

By Jack Elmlinger



“See in the skies, flutt’ring before us
What the bright bird of peace is bringing!”

-Stephen Oliver, ‘Patriotic Chorus’




“I’m sick. I’m just so sick of it.” Aimee threw all but her last card onto the table. “Yahtzee.”

Sean eyed his companion wearily. “Uno, Aimee. We’re playing Uno.” He checked her cards and he was forced to admit that she had won. “Sick of what?”

“Sam!,” she spat back at him. She flopped back onto Sean’s bed and traced the seams in the bulkhead beside it. “He’s so… him!”

Pasko glanced at the clock on the nightstand and he considered reminding Aimee that it was close to 0:300 hours in the morning. He suspected that she wouldn’t hear him. Instead, he slumped back on the floor and waited for the engineer to explain herself.

“It’s his quirks, you know?,” she said, sitting up abruptly. “He’s got all of these endearments for me. Like honey-pie, snookums, and pookie. It’s weird! Why can’t he just call me Aimee?”

“Maybe he thinks that having his own nickname for you makes his connection to you special.”

“I mean, look at the man,” she continued with her tirade. “Sure he’s nice and strong, but he isn’t that bright.” A sad expression covered her face. “Do I really want to be washing his underwear for the rest of my life? He has some really big underwear.” She held out her hands to indicate the distance.

“Wait -- when did we start talking about life-long commitment?”

“Exactly!”

“Did you do this with Pozach too?,” Sean asked her.

“What?”

“When you decided that you were done with her, did you do this? Sit back and list everything that you didn’t like about her?”

Aimee sniffed at him. “I don’t think that’s fair. I haven’t ditched him.” Her tone became haughty. “I’m only trying to candidly examine the possibilities of our relationship.”

Sean shrugged at this statement, unimpressed with it. “This just seemed… familiar.”


* * * * * * * * * * * *



“You want me to do what?,” Vasily Keitsev asked incredulously.

Alice Polcheny ducked her face down against the table and groaned. “Can you, please, be a little quieter, Vasily?,” she whispered. “I’m being quiet. Why do you think I’m being quiet?”

“You’re afraid that someone else might hear your ridiculous idea?”

Polcheny waved her hands frantically. “Yes!,” she hissed at him, her eyes darting around the Mess Hall. Keitsev gasped as she grabbed his ears and dragged him down to her face. “Listen, I like Sean.”

“He’s a sweetie,” he agreed. “Could you, ah… ?”

Polcheny continued,” And it would make me happy if I could get to know him a little better.”

Keitsev tried to squirm free but her grip was too strong. “You could just talk to him -- urk.”

“I’ve tried talking to him but it always turns into a discussion about work,” she said plaintively. “I want to talk to him socially.”

“How old are you?,” Keitsev demanded to know, breaking away from her.

She blinked at his question. “Twenty-two. Why?”

“Because you’re acting like a schoolgirl, Alice!” Keitsev threw up his hands in anger. “If you want to talk to the man or date him or have his babies or whatever, you have to go do it yourself. I’m not setting you two up on a date!”

Keitsev stood up from the table and left. Polcheny sulked for a few minutes before a smile grew on her face and she bolted from the Mess Hall.





* * * * * * * * * * * *



“We have a problem,” Doctor Moru said.

Captain Pozach looked up from her PADD in surprise. “A plaque of Tribbles got loose aboard the ship?,” she asked, mildly. “I could use a pet.”

“Sayvok’s starting writing again,” the Bolian doctor groaned at her,” and he’s got Ensign Polcheny helping him.”

Pozach dropped her PADD down on her desk and sat back in her chair. “I thought that he had gotten that out of his system when he wrote that opera in the style of a Klingon love ballad?”

Moru slumped down in the chair opposite from the captain. “I’ve never heard a Klingon sing before. That was impressive but…”

“It was the throwing things that got me.”

“Jeanne, it took three hours to clean up afterwards.” Moru sighed and added. “And you haven’t heard the best part.”

“It gets better?,” she asked timidly.

“Apparently, he’s taken up the style of a late-twentieth Terran rock show.”

Jeanne spun around in her chair and let out a long groan. “Oh, no! No, no, no…” She stopped and stared, dumbfounded out of the window. “I never should have lent him my Queen albums!”

Moru smiled at this revelation. “I’m sure that the crew will thank you.”



* * * * * * * * * * * *



Davi zh’Tali was slowly coming to appreciate the necessity of command and perhaps even her role in it. She wasn’t coming to appreciate the paperwork though. Sometimes it felt like the forms and regulations were designed solely to keep her trapped in her quarters.

The door chime sounded. “Enter,” she said, hiding both her irritation and her gratitude.

Lieutenant Keitsev marched inside, standing at strict attention. “Sir. On your time, I wish to speak with you, sir.”

zh’Tali felt a tug on her lip but she stifled it. “Very well. Speak.”

The chair that he had expected to be there wasn’t offered since the zhen kept none on the opposite side of her desk. “Sir, as you know, I’m due to begin my supplementary Academy classes.”

zh’Tali called up his service record on her monitor. “Because you are a product of the accelerated program utilized by the Academy during the war.”

“Yes, sir. Despite my current rank of Lieutenant, my commission isn’t complete until I finish my last year at the Academy or the equivalent courses elsewhere.”

zh’Tali noticed that he hadn’t shifted his eyes from some point over her short white hair and she felt herself gain a modicum of respect for him. “You and a dozen other members of the crew.” She glanced at him. “What’s your point, Lieutenant?”

Somehow Keitsev stood straighter. “Sir, I would be honored if you would procter my proxy classes in Tactical History, sir.”

“Why?” The word flew past her lips before she could stop it. The question remained there and it surprised him into moving.

“I…” He shook his head and returned to attention. “Because you are the senior-most officer with the necessary experience, and if our requirements can’t be fulfilled with lessons from you, then a great many of us will have to return to Earth. “He gathered his strength and continued with his explanation,” and… because it would be a great honor to be taught by someone such as yourself.”

“Lieutenant,” the commander said, coldly, her eyes and antennae staring flatly at him,” I am immune to flattery.”

Keitsev’s attention broke entirely. “Sir! No flattery intended. Uh, I don’t mean to falsely inflate your ego... “ He raised his chin after taking a breath. “Only that you are undoubtedly one of the greatest heroes of the Dominion War, sir. That you are--”

“Stop,” she snarled at him.

Startled, Keitsev lapsed into silence. The Andorian woman slowly stood up and circled around her desk to stare into the side of his face. She waited and watched sweat form on his brow. “You wish,” she said slowly,” to emulate me.”

“Ah…,” Keitsev swallowed. “Yes. Yes, sir.”

zh’Tali leaned in closer to him. “You wish for me to teach you the art of killing and the glory of war.”

“... sir,” he choked out.

Abruptly, the commander turned away and returned to her seat behind her desk. “Request denied. Please inform the others with similar … aspirations… that their requests are preemptively denied.” She pulled up a file on her monitor screen, ready to return to her paperwork. “Furthermore, you will return to Earth for your classes where you will be taught that war is not something to be celebrated.” Her ice-blue eyes pierced through Keitsev. “Dismissed. Now.”

On later reflection, Keitsev realized that not stumbling over his own feet on the way out was the best part of his conference with the First Officer.


* * * * * * * * * * * *



“Thank you for your attendance,” Sayvok said. “It is my sincere hope that all of you will appreciate the production.”

Captain Pozach rose from her chair and cleared her throat. “It was certainly… it was quite the effort, Sayvok.”

The crew left their seats, either in search of food or to flee the scene of the crime against modern theater entirely.

“Personally, I like the,” -- Pasko paused to search for a word --,” the flow. It was very natural. I’ve never segue from ‘Tommy’ to ‘Fame’ in such a … unique manner.”

Polcheny beamed at him. “I helped with that part. Sayvok wasn’t even going to use ‘Fame’ but I convinced him.”

“Lucky us,” Maguire said, lightly.

“I saw ‘Fame’ during my first year at the Academy,” Polcheny continued speaking. “I went with a group of friends and the music just blew my mind!”

Pasko nodded. “I remember going to musicals at the Academy. Back then, I had the biggest crush on Jamie Kent.”

“Grk,” Polcheny choked out with wide eyes on Lieutenant Maguire.

“Jamie Kent,” he continued, not noticing her discomfort. “She had the most expressive eyes and the prettiest smile.” He sighed at the memory. “But she got together with Sekara Leyn and I heard that they’re pretty happy now.”

“Too bad,” Alice said, relaxing a little as her heart started back up again.


* * * * * * * * * * * *



Captain Pozach could tell that there was something wrong when zh’Tali stiffened at her station. From across the Bridge at the engineer’s station, Lieutenant Maguire glanced over at the flicker of motion. The captain rotated her chair and waited while the zhen frowned at her display.

“We’ve received orders from the Wildcat, flagship of the Seventh Fleet,” Commander zh’Tali announced from the Ops console. “We have been ordered to make our best speed and join the fleet at Starbase Three-Five-Nine to prepare for combat operations.”

The Bridge was silent for a moment before Pozach asked,” Excuse me?”

“The orders are confirmed.”

“All right,” the Captain said. “Sean, set a course for Starbase Three-Five-Nine, and get us there at Warp Eight.”

Pasko shook his head as he plotted the course for the Starbase. “Who is there left to fight?,” he asked.



* * * * * * * * * * * *



“My money is on the Klingons,” Sam Dixon said. “I heard that they weren’t too satisfied with what they got in the Treaty of Bajor.” He nodded confidently. “Assembling the Seventh Fleet is probably just a show of force by the Federation to make them back down.”

“It’s the Jem’Hadar.” Aimee Maguire’s words silenced the table and she glanced around uncomfortably. “That’s got to be it, doesn’t it? Why else would Starfleet have assembled an entire combat fleet? The Dominion is coming back through the wormhole and --”

“Aimee, shut up,” Aaron Connelly said, interrupting her. “The Dominion War is over. There’s got to be some other reason.”

Polcheny glanced around worriedly. “What if --”

“‘If’, Alice, the Dominion is back, then we’ll fight them again.”

“And we’ll die,” Maguire told them. “Remember how I got my job as Chief Engineer? Because everyone else was dead!”

“Snookums!,” Dixon hissed at her.

“Look,” Polcheny said simply. The other people at their table followed her gaze to the window and a hush fell over the Mess Hall. Like sharks, the gleaming hulls of a hundred starships hung in space.

“You know,” Connelly said,” the last time that we saw the Seventh Fleet, I was much happier about it.”

“Or maybe it’s the Breen,” Maguire whispered, still guessing at who their enemy could be. “Starfleet didn’t make much of an effort to disarm them and the Romulans say that you should never turn your back on one. If the Romulans think that they’re untrustworthy…”

The Chief Engineer’s topic gave Keitsev pause. “You know that nobody’s ever seen one of them outside of its encounter suit. We don’t even know what they like on the inside”

“Maybe they’re angels!,” Ensign Polcheny exclaimed with forced enthusiasm. She looked around uncertainty from her companions’ harsh looks and then down at the tabletop. “Sorry.”



* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Lieutenant Maguire dashed into the Situation Room, trying to look casual and failing utterly. Seated around the table were Commander zh’Tali, Doctor Moru, Science Officer Hobbes, Lieutenant Pasko, and Lieutenant Ntannu, the Ktarian security chief. Captain Pozach sat at the head of the table and behind her stood a dour-looking man with the rank pips of a Captain on his maroon collar. Embarrassed, the chief engineer sat down quickly.

Pozach’s gaze swam over her officers before she spoke to them, “There have been a lot of rumors and idle speculation flying around this ship since news of the fleet assembly was made public. I have received word from Admiral Falconer aboard the Wildcat that the threat that we’re facing is not the Dominion.”

Moru, Hobbes, Pasko, Ntannu, and Maguire deflated slightly at the news while zh’Tali remained impassive.

“I’m more than a little relieved myself,” Pozach admitted to her officers. “We won’t be facing the Jem’hadar. Not today, and hopefully not ever again.” She lowered her eyes briefly before she continued,” I’d like to introduce you all to Captain Daimousen of the starship Fafnir.”

Daimousen nodded his thanks to her and announced,” This briefing is being given to every command staff in the Seventh Fleet. At zero-three hundred hours yesterday, while on patrol near Morok, the USS Albatross picked up an automated distress signal from the USS Buckingham.” He gazed levelly at each of the Cayuga’s officers. “By the time that Albatross arrived at the scene, the Buckingham had been destroyed. There were no survivors.”

“My God,” Pasko whispered underneath his breath.

Daimousen continued with his summation. “The Warrior was called in to take detailed scans of the wreckage and one thing is clear. The Buckingham’s attackers… were Cardassian.”

“Not to contradict the fine crew of the Warrior, Captain Daimousen,” Moru said,” but we’ve seen the state of the Cardassian people, first hand. There’s no will left to fight in them.”

“I understand your concern, Doctor, but the evidence is fairly conclusive,” Daimousen replied. “Throughout that day, eight Cardassian vessels which we theoretically believe to be cargo ships, were in the area that the Buckingham was destroyed. We consider each of them to be suspect.”

“Which is where we come in,” Pozach added to the conversation. “Admiral Falconer doesn’t want any of our ships to be searching out there alone. So we’ve been paired up with the Fafnir in the hunt.”

“Eight ships in the whole of Cardassian space?,” Ntannu asked her. “They’ve had plenty of time. They could be anywhere by now.”

“Which is why the entirety of the Seventh Fleet is here now,” explained the Fafnir’s commanding officer. “That many ships spread out on the hunt will make our job that much more easier.”

“Now they realize it,” Pasko muttered underneath his breath.

Pozach shot him a look before she cleared her throat. “We’ll be underway within two hours. Aimee, I’ll want the sensors to be at top efficiency. Sean, and Commander zh’Tali, I want both of you to work through tactical simulations of how to disable and capture whatever type of vessel that the Cardassians could be using. Mister Ntannu, I want your people in Security ready to secure the vessel and subdue the crew. Got it?” There were nods of acknowledgement from all around the table. “Good. Go.”

As everyone filed out of the Situation Room. Doctor Moru took a moment to look at Pozach with a scowl on his face. “Doctor,” she said to the Bolian,” I certainly hope that your services won’t be required.”

“I hope so too, Jeanne. I hope so too.”


* * * * * * * * * * * *


Lieutenant Pasko drummed his fingers on the helm console and eyed the viewscreen warily. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to fly in formation.”

“What’s our time?,” Pozach asked from behind him.

zh’Tali checked her board. “We will intercept the Rokar in seven minutes, Captain. The Fafnir has hailed Gul Ocett and ordered her to stand down.”

Pozach stood up from the captain’s chair and walked around the helm console to get a closer look at the Galor class warship. “Commander,” she said, with her back to zh’Tali,” I want you to beam over to the Fafnir and join the conversation with Gul Ocett. You’ve spoken with her before. Sean, accompany her.”

zh’Tali nodded sharply at her. She turned on her heel to leave the Bridge with Pasko hurrying up to catch her.

“Fafnir reports that Gul Ocett had beamed aboard and that they’re ready for you, Commander,” Petty Officer Mbanu told the First Officer as she and Pasko entered the transporter room. They stepped onto the transporter platform and their surroundings disappeared into silver-blue molecules. Once they could see again, they stood in a room much like the one that they had left aboard the Cayuga.

A man with Commander’s pips on his maroon collar smiled at them and held out a hand. “Welcome aboard the Fafnir. I’m Commander Lassiter.”

zh’Tali stepped off of the platform and shook his hand. “Captain wishes for us to assist you with interrogating Gul Ocett.”

“Ah,” Lassiter said, beginning to feel his fingers chill from a lack of circulation. “Well, Captain Pozach must run a tight ship.” The first officer extracted his hand from the zhen’s grip and rubbing his fingers against his hip, led them out of the transporter room. “We’ve got the Cardassian in the conference room. Follow me.”

The first thing that Pasko noticed aboard the Fafnir was the corridors. They were wider than the Cayuga’s and the ceilings seemed a tiny bit higher too. Even the turbolifts were bigger.

Lassiter brought them to the Bridge and stopped them outside the conference room. “Of course, we’ll respect Captain Pozach’s wishes,” he told them,” but Captain Daimousen has been adamant about conducting the interrogation himself. It would be a poor idea to interrupt him.”

“We are only here to aid and observe,” zh’Tali told him. He nodded at her statement and opened the door.

“I want your crew manifest. I want your inventory, and I want your logs for the last two weeks,” Daimousen said, towering over Gul Ocett who was seated. “And I want an explanation about why your government ordered the destruction of the Buckingham!”

Ocett’s eyes slid to her left and she let out a sigh. “You want quite a bit, Captain.”

“And I get what I want,” he added with a sneer.

Pasko and zh’Tali seated themselves at the conference table silently. Ocett noticed the Andorian zhen and turned to face her. “Well, isn’t this delightful? You’re the charming captain from that little vessel, aren’t you?”

“First Officer,” the Andorian corrected her, her voice even. “Though I am interested in the answers that you might give us to Captain Daimousen’s questions.”

Ocett leaned forward in her face with her own face, a study in annoyance. “As you seem so fond of listening to repetition, I shall say it again. I cannot tell you why my government ordered for this ship of yours to be destroyed because it did not. The Cardassian people have neither the capability, not the willingness to go to war again.”

Noticing a smudge on her ebony armor, she wiped at it distractedly.

“Although if the captain and the crew of this ‘Buckingham’ were as engaging individuals as you are, I could see how one might wish to have them killed.”

Pasko stiffened with repressed anger but Daimousen showed less restraint, leaving Ocett to touch the spot of blood over her right eye. She raised her chin and suggested,” Or perhaps they provoked their own deaths.”

Daimousen’s next blow knocked Ocett off her chair and to the ground. He wanted until she had struggled to her knees before he kicked her in the face. “Funny that you should say that,” he growled at her.

“Commander?,” Pasko asked his superior officer.

zh’Tali sat in stony silence, her arms folded across her chest.

Pasko stood up from his seat. “Captain Daimousen, I think -- “

“Shut up, Lieutenant!,” Daimousen snarled at him. He reached down and grasped at Ocett’s hair, pulling her head back up. “I’m going to let you go, just this once because I'm a nice person.”

“I can tell,” the Cardassian woman whispered hoarsely.

Daimousen dropped the Cardassian to the ground. “If I hear -- or I think that I’ll hear -- that you or any member of your species had anything to do with the loss of the Buckingham, then death will be your only mercy when I get done with you.”

Lassiter came forward, dragging Ocett to her feet and pulling her from the room.

“What the hell was that?!,” Pasko demanded to know. Daimousen glared across the table at him and the helmsman held his gaze, waiting for an answer.

“Interrogating the prisoner,” zh’Tali replied simply. Ignoring the lieutenant’s angry sputtering, she turned towards Daimousen. “Do you have any other leads?”

“Not at the moment,” he said, rubbing his knuckles idly,” but it’s only a matter of time. Cardassians are brash and stupid. Sooner or later, one of them will start bragging. Then it’ll be all over.”

Daimousen dismissed the Andorian and Pasko. Commander Lassiter returned to escort them back to the Fafnir’s transporter room. The pilot was muttering things like,” I cannot believe…” and “What happened to…” even as they dematerialized.

“Perhaps, Mister Pasko, if you explained your opinion in a structured manner, I would be able to understand and empathize.” zh’Tali decided that he would never realize just how difficult those words were for her to say or how appealing the idea of beating him into submission was.

“Commander,” he began finally,” were you and I in the same room over there?”

“Of course.”

“He was assaulting a prisoner! Starfleet has procedures detailing the handling and interrogating of prisoners. They say that torture is not allowed We don’t treat people like that!” His face was turning beet-red and zh’Tali was battling her temper.

She took a steadying breath and spoke with forced calm. “Lieutenant, you seem to have developed this idea that all Cardassians are soft-eyed, pitiable creatures who are in need of our care and defense.

“However, you should bear in mind that these are the same people, the same government, that sactioned the creation of metagenic weapons, and particupated in a program to capture, torture, and terrorize citizens of the Federation. They have committed massacres against civilians on worlds like Setlik II, Bajor, and many, many others. All of these have been done without a formal declaration of war. Would you like me to list their atrocities during the Dominion War?”

Pasko shook his head. “Those actions don’t make every Cardassian guilty.”

“Of course not, but it does make them a suspect. If Gul Ocett has information regarding the terrorists, then we need to have it now before they strike again. And yes, it is… wrong… of us to violate our own protocols. In my judgement, it was a necessary action to ensure the safety of our fellow Starfleet officers.”

“So the ends justify the means?”

“Mister Pasko,” zh’Tali said slowly,” this is the principle upon which I have sacrificed my life continuously for.”


* * * * * * * * * * * *


“Yahtzee.”

“Now you’re just doing it on purpose.”

Aimee just smirked at Sean’s statement.

“So she just let Daimousen beat up the Cardassian?,” she asked him, standing up and stretching her arms while her hand brushed the crucifix mounted opposite his bed. Sean checked the cards before she trampled them.

“Yeah, and she didn’t seem to be… to overly disturbed.”

Aimee shrugged at his response. “I’ve been saying that the woman is a psychopath. It’s the sort of thing that happens when you think that violence is the answer to everything. Especially for an Andorian…”

“It’s just disturbing. I talked to Captain Pozach about it.”

Aimee glanced over irritably at him. “Is she going to do anything about it?” Sean looked up at her with surprise and she spoke quickly to cover up the venom in her voice. “Nobody can control zh’Tali because she’s insane.”

“Why are you so angry? Is this about Captain Pozach?”

Aimee looked at him. “Sean, this was never about Captain Pozach.”


* * * * * * * * * * * *



“The Fafnir is hailing us. They’ve received orders from the Wildcat to investigate rumors of unknown vessels entering the Norgo system,” zh’Tali said from her place at Ops. Pasko turned in his chair, irritated at the sound of her voice.

“Mister Pasko,” Pozach told him,” match the Fafnir’s course and speed.”

“Coming out of warp… now.”

zh’Tali’s fingers moved across her board. “There is a colony on Norgo IX, a Class-P world. The atmosphere is inhospitable to humanoid life. Eighty percent of the surface is covered in frozen oceans -- “

From across the Bridge, Maguire yelped in surprise. “It’s… it must be very cold down there.”

zh’Tali shook her head and continued with her report,” The colony is located inside of an enclosed environment, supporting over three thousand Cardassians.” Her board beeped with a new development. “Fafnir has hailed the colony.”

“Patch us in,” Pozach said, leaning forward in her chair.

Overhead, the voice of Captain Daimousen snarled,” -- order you to give up the terrorists. If you do not comply, we will be forced to take action.”

“I assure you, Captain, that we don’t harbor any criminals here.” The speaker sounded old and tired. “We hardly have enough resources for ourselves, let alone for any offworlders.”

Daimousen’s voice grew colder as Pozach shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Cardassian… I offer you one last chance to come clean.”

“We do not -- “

“Of course not. Tactical, target the colony’s life-support systems and fire.”

“Daimousen!,” Pozach yelled at him, leaping forward from her chair. zh’Tali’s mouth opened in shock but that was quickly replaced by rage. On the main viewscreen, a quantum torpedo fell down on the planet and even from space, geysers of gaseous ammonia were visible from the impact point. “Captain, you cannot fire on civilians! Stand down!”

“Pozach,” Daimousen said, slowly, his voice filled with anger and malice,” I don’t really care if you’re too pathetic to do what needs to be done, but don’t condemn me for not being as weak.” The channel between the ships was cut off afterwards.

zh’Tali said quietly,” Fafnir is continuing to fire on the surface.”

Pozach leaned over Pasko’s shoulder. “Sean,” she said, gathering up her strength,” I want you to disable the Fafnir’s weapons array and disable it.”

“Are you out of your mind?!,” Maguire demanded from behind her. “We can’t fire on another Federation starship!”

From the Ops position, zh’Tali sought out the captain’s gaze. Her eyes were angry and she spoke in a hushed voice,” Stop them.”

“Jeanne,” the pilot said, breaking protocol between them,” this is a hell of a time to grow a backbone about fighting. That’s an Akira class starship and we’re outgunned, big time by her.” He looked up at the view of the Fafnir still firing on the planet. “Let’s get on with it,” he whispered to himself.

“Sound General Quarters,” the Captain said, turning back to sit down in her command chair. “Red Alert. All hands to Battle Stations. This is not a drill.”

“Attempting to match our weapons to Fafnir’s shield modulations,” the Andorian first officer said,” and sending out a distress signal on all frequencies.”

“I’m targeting the launchers between their nacelles,” Pasko said, his hands busy moving over his panel,” and I’m plotting an attack pattern that will keep us out of the majority of their phasers.”

Maguire checked over the ship’s status on the situation board. “All decks are secured and Connelly reports that Engineering is ready.”

Pozach took a heavy sigh before saying,” Mister Pasko… fire.”

The Fafnir’s shields flared as the Cayuga swept in close, hammering away at her torpedo launchers. With the first pass finished, the pilot pulled the ship around tight and returned towards the other ship’s launchers.

“Incoming hail from the Fafnir,” zh’Tali reported.

The viewer shifted from a winding of stars to Daimousen’s furious visage. What the hell is wrong with you, Pozach?!”

“Stand down from your attack on the colony, Captain, and I’ll be delighted to discuss it with you,” the Cayuga’s captain said with a humor that she didn’t feel.

The channel cut off and the Cayuga shook violently. Maguire gasped and she began to make her report but she was interrupted by a sudden lurch in the ship’s artificial gravity. “Engineering’s been hit, Captain! We’re losing power from all across the ship!”

“Any response to our distress signal?”

“Plenty,” zh’Tali replied,” from the Seventh Fleet.”

“I can’t get through their shields!,” Pasko yelled.

“Our forward shields have collapsed,” the Andorian reported. “Fafnir has captured us in a tractor beam. I’m reading transport signatures all over the ship -- “

Six pillars of silver-blue energy appeared around the Bridge and materialized into security officers. zh’Tali tensed at their sudden appearance but the captain motioned for her to sit still. Commander Lassiter, the Fafnir’s First Officer, trained his weapon on Jeanne with a hard look on his face.

“Captain Jeanne Pozach,” he said,” by the order of Captain Ryan Daimousen, I place you under arrest.”


To be continued…

 

Thank you for reformatting and posting your stories here! I was having a devil of a time with the font and layout on your site. This will make for a far easier and much more enjoyable read for me.