Star Trek: Elysia

[Captain2395]

I would be interested to get some thoughts on my new little project, Star Trek: Elysia. I had a story on these boards two or three years ago and while I was happy with the characters, I don't feel that the setting or the concept was original enough. It was also quickly dated by the events of the last Star Trek movie in which Romulus was destroyed.

Inspired by the success of TV series like Lost, Terra Nova, Battlestar Galactica and of course DS9, I've decided to reuse some of my original characters but develop a better setting and a more interesting premise. Hopefully, the mystery, the characters, the setting and the concept is of some interest to readers and the various ideas that are swirling around in my head can gel into a good story.

A historian's note - Elysia is set soon after the destruction of Romulus in 2387.

The first chapter is about to go up but first here is my "These are the Voyages..." blurb for Elysia.

Star Trek: Elysia​

Out there on the distant edge of known space, through the Bajoran wormhole, over 70,000 light-years from Earth, the planet Elysia is colonized for the first time.

Settlers go from across the galaxy. From Earth, from Vulcan, from Bajor. Refugees from Romulus and mysterious new allies from the Dominion. Some go in search of a new and promising future. Others go to escape the past.

Under the watch of their Starfleet protectors, all the people of Elysia build a new community, a gateway to the unknown wonders of the Gamma Quadrant and a beacon for peace and hope in a galaxy still haunted by war.

More awaits them on their new home than they expect and more depends on them than they can possibly imagine.

Out there...on the farthest of frontiers...on the strangest of new worlds...on Elysia.

 

[Captain2395]

“Intruder alert!”

Klaxons howled overhead and torpedoes rocked the space station as Commander Letina Iyal stumbled towards the MSD table in the centre of Ops. Sweeping her long auburn hair across her spotted temple and behind her ear, she took a moment to compose herself before tapping on her touchscreen interface.

She scanned the flickering displays with her finger, picking out gaps in the station’s defences, and pointed to the Ferengi working on the opposite console.

“Security teams to Levels 5 and 6...and divert more power to the ventral shields.”

Nog nodded to the Trill commander and dutifully punched commands into the table.

The station rocked again as another torpedo burst through the deflector shields and ploughed the massive metal structure in space. A fountain of sparks erupted from the floor in Ops with such force that a Grazerite technician was blasted in the face and hurled across the room.

A crewman set about tackling the fires with a plasma extinguisher as another helped guide the Grazerite back onto his feet under the red glow of the emergency lighting.

“Commander,” began Nog, his voice grave, “that last hit took out shields on this level.”

“They’re coming!” Iyal announced. In one movement she drew her phaser from her holster and turned to look out on the entire Operations Centre.

Within seconds a Jem’hadar boarding party materialised on the upper level of Ops. Iyal was the first to fire, catching one of the intruders with a phaser blast to the chest, but moved swiftly to take cover as the rest of the party showered the station’s nerve centre with a hail of rifle fire.

Lieutenant Commander Nog ducked behind the MSD table. He grabbed his phaser with his right hand and tried to shelter himself from the piercing shrieks of phaser fire with his left. From the corner of his peripheral vision, he could see Iyal crouched in an alcove, trying to take aim with her phaser. The room was symmetrical and on the other side an officer from Starfleet Security had adopted a similar position. The guard’s rifle was strapped over his shoulder. He used his sidearm to return fire. Nog remembered from the Dominion War how clumsy phaser rifles could be in enclosed spaces.

The main workstations on Ops were elevated – Science, Tactical, Environment, Operations Management – but Nog had diverted most functions to the MSD table at the request of Iyal when the first of the warships arrived. Nog could see the injured Grazerite technician slumped behind one of the workstations, clutching the charred and broken skin on his crimson bleeding face.

“Help me,” Nog could hear the Grazerite plead through the phaser fire. He tried to filter out the clamour of the battle and focus on the whimpering. “I can’t see...help me.”

The Jem’hadar barrage continued as more soldiers materialised. Nog closed his eyes and willed his injured crewmate to play dead. The Grazerite would be safer if he avoided drawing attention to himself. Twelve years after the Dominion War and the memories were still raw. Nog had no recollection of the Jem’hadar showing mercy.

“Take this,” the security guard called to Nog, kicking his phaser rifle across the floor towards the MSD table. “You’ll get a better shot with that than me.”

Nog tried to snatch the phaser rifle without exposing himself to gunfire. His fingers just grazed the butt of the rifle but no more. He repositioned himself against the MSD table and peaked over long enough to see a Jem’hadar downed with a lashing orange beam from an unseen Starfleet phaser, which he took to be Iyal’s.

This is your chance, Nog thought to himself. He reached to the phaser with his leg – his prosthetic leg surgically installed after a previous battle with the Jem’hadar. He hooked the rifle with his foot and dragged it back towards him.

“Go for it, sir,” urged the guard from the alcove. “I’ll cover you.”

Nog holstered his Type-2 phaser took hold of the rifle. He turned to the other side of the room to make eye contact with Commander Iyal.

“Commander!” called Nog through the rage of the battle. “Cover me!”

Letina Iyal looked to her Chief of Operations, gave him the useful ‘thumbs up’ gesture she had learned from human classmates at the Academy and then nodded at the armed guard on the other side of the room.

On three, she mouthed to them.

On the count of three they sprang into action. Iyal fired at the Jem’hadar on one side of the room as her security guard fired at the other. Nog perched the rifle over the MSD table and mowed down the advancing Jem’hadar warriors.

The frenzy of phaser fire ended. The room was still.

All Iyal could see was stirring from her crew behind smoke and flames, under the red glow of the emergency lighting. All Nog could hear was the roar of flames from weapons damage and the drone of the emergency klaxons.

The Starfleet officers slowly moved towards the MSD table in the centre of the room, scanning the upper level with their weapons, looking for signs of movement – hidden Jem’hadar, another transporter beam, more injured crewmen.

“Is that it?” asked Iyal as she neared the MSD table. “Are there any more?”

Nog placed the rifle on the table and returned to his interface.

“Security teams appear to have contained incursions on Levels Five and Six,” reported Nog. “The Jem’hadar could be shrouding themselves from our internal sensors.”

Nog continued to manipulate the glimmering MSD table until a Jem’hadar warrior emerged from the darkness, firing a plasma rifle. The Ferengi screeched as he collapsed to the floor, eliminated as he scrambled desperately for his own phaser rifle on the table.

“Nog!” came the primal roar from Iyal. She jabbed her thumb into the trigger of her phaser and shot the Jem’hadar, firing a second time to make sure he was dead.

Before she could collect her thoughts another Jem’hadar assailant emerged from his camouflaged state and seized her from behind.

Turbolift doors slid open and Starfleet reinforcements marched into the room. One was cut off by a shrouded Jem’hadar, wielding kar’takan blade. Another shot in the face with a plasma rifle.

A single lone Vulcan woman followed the advancing guards through the doorway.

“Surrender, Vulcan!” she heard the blade-wielding Jem’hadar roar.

The Vulcan stood upright at the main entrance to Ops with her hands clasped behind her back, calmly surveying the close quarters combat before her.

“How curious,” she remarked to herself as she scrutinised the warrior’s glistening kar’takan blade. She raised her eyebrow faster than the Jem’hadar could raise his weapon. “Computer, delete this...character.”

The Jem’hadar soldier disappeared. But the carnage continued.

Admiral Sitak of Vulcan strode through the fire fight towards Letina Iyal, stepping over fallen bodies of servicemen and women and downed Jem’hadar invaders. She inspected her surroundings, rolling her eyes at the sight of the besieged Operations Centre.

Iyal was still locked in a struggle with a Jem’hadar, trying to wrest a plasma pistol from his vicelike grip of his big reptilian hands. Sitak cut the struggle short, casually incapacitating the invader with the Vulcan neck pinch.

“Really, Commander?” said Sitak as she dropped the Jem’hadar warrior to the ground. “Do you think this simulation is in the best of taste?”

Commander Letina Iyal stuck the plasma pistol into her belt and breathing heavily she placed her hands on her hips.

“Computer,” she said, “freeze programme!”

The fighting stopped. The klaxons stopped. Screens stopped flickering and the fires stopped raging. Balls of plasma from Jem’hadar rifles and orange beams from phasers were frozen in midair. The contorted faces of injured crew were fixed stiff as if the men of women of the tactical simulation were part of a cruel waxwork.

“That’s enough for today,” said Iyal as she waved to her security team – the only real, living participants in the simulated battle. The guards filed out of the holodeck.

Admiral Sitak strode through the snapshot of the battle, her hands still clasped behind her back. Stepping over the frozen, fallen holographic representation of Lieutenant Commander Nog, she approached the large reinforced windows which ran the length of Ops. The Vulcan observed the pink hue of Elysia, a view that even the most cold and logical of beings could tell was enchanting.

“Commander,” began Sitak, still transfixed on the artificial projection of the planet beneath the station. “Starfleet Command attaches a great deal of importance to the success of this project. So does the President. And so do I.”

“I understand, Admiral,” said Iyal as she tried to predict the Admiral’s line of thought. “I do appreciate the diplomatic sensitivities associated with our mission here and I will forego further simulations if that is your wish.”

Sitak raised her eyebrow again but did not take her eyes off of Elysia. She spoke over shoulder without moving her head. “I am not here to talk about your tactical simulations. It is logical to plan for all eventualities, although I would urge some discretion with this particular programme.”

“Then what are you trying to say, Admiral?”

Sitak turned away from the window and looked at her Executive Officer. “I have decided to retire from Starfleet later this week.”

It was Iyal’s turn to cock her eyebrow. She had come to expect sudden decisions from hard Vulcan logicians but on this occasion she was genuinely surprised.

“I have been presented with a unique opportunity to ensure the success of the Elysian Project,” Sitak explained. “Next week I will officially become the Federation’s Ambassador to Elysia...by special order of the President.”

Letina Iyal had learned that Vulcans strictly regulated their own feelings and emotions but she doubted that they were completely impervious to pride or conceit.

“Congratulations,” said Iyal, easily managing a smile. “What does this mean for the Starfleet presence here?”

Admiral Sitak turned back towards the window, again with her hands clasped behind her, and spoke over her shoulder again. “Starfleet Command will announce my successor in the next few days. I will make sure that you are one of the first to know.”

A chirping sound from the station’s computer interrupted their conversation.

The authentic voice of Lieutenant Commander Nog echoed throughout the simulated Operations Centre. “Ops to Admiral Sitak. The Dominion vessel has arrived.”

 

[Sandoval]

The Gamma Quadrant end of the Bajoran wormhole would be more like 70,000 light-years from Earth, not 30,000.

 

[Sandoval]

Also the exciting, fight to the death opener that turns out to be a holographic simulation is such a cliché.

 

[Captain2395]

The Gamma Quadrant end of the Bajoran wormhole would be more like 70,000 light-years from Earth, not 30,000.

Fixed after checking Memory Alpha.

The opener is a bit of a cliché but I think important for setting the tone of the whole story.

I was originally looking at ways to start the story in the Alpha Quadrant but they were all too tangential.

Thanks for feedback.

 

[Gibraltar]

Well, you certainly caught my attention with that opener. Far be it from me to contradict Sandoval, but I thought the holodeck scenario was a terrific way to whet the reader’s appetite as well as demonstrate your mastery of action sequences.

I think the plot of your series is intriguing, your writing is crisp and clear, and you’ve got a knack for strong dialogue from your characters.

I’ll be checking in for more…

 

[CeJay]

Has the holodeck been overused in Trek? Sure. Does it remain a viable and fun story telling device? Absolutely.

I liked the way you used it here and I'm certainly curious to see where this story may be heading.

 

[Sandoval]

Has the holodeck been overused in Trek? Sure. Does it remain a viable and fun story telling device? Absolutely.

Why do people ask questions and answer them themselves? I'm not sure.

Did anyone imply that the holodeck was not a viable and fun storytelling device? No.

Did someone opine that beginning scenes with an explosive shoot-out that ends with 'computer freeze program' was an overused cliché? Yes.

 

[Sandoval]

Far be it from me to contradict Sandoval...

Just don't make a habit of it...

 

[Captain2395]

Thanks everyone for the feedback. I'm working my way through other stories and gradually catching up. For now, here's the next installment of Elysia.





Dining al fresco at the height of a glorious European summer was a rare luxury for a Starfleet captain. Bane Mather acquired a taste for Earth’s Italian cuisine many years ago when he married Cassandra and he promised to take her and Freddie to their favourite restaurant one more time before they left for the Gamma Quadrant.

Luigi’s sat on a promenade overlooking golden, sandy beaches and the Tyrrhenian stretch of the Mediterranean Sea, glistening in the sun. Tables spilled out of the restaurant onto a courtyard and the smell of stonebaked pizza and simmering seafood followed. Luigi’s promised the finest of classic Italian cuisine and had never failed to deliver for Bane on his treasured trips to Earth.

Luigi himself, a stout old Italian with young eyes and a warm smile, welcomed the family to the courtyard as if they were his own. A pat on the back for Bane, a kiss on the cheek for Cassie and a playful ruffling of Freddie’s straw-like blonde hair. He guided them to a table, handed them traditional card menus and retreated indoors to collect their drinks.

“It could be a while until we get the chance to do this again,” remarked Bane, his eyes crinkling with his nose as he peered through the rays and admired one of Earth’s brightest bluest seas.

“It will be a while until we get the chance to do this again on Earth,” replied Cassandra, squeezing Bane’s hand over the table. “We won’t have to wait for shore leave to spend time together on Elysia.”

Bane still felt guilty that he had spent most of the first five years of his child’s life and almost six years of his marriage traipsing across the galaxy on the Malinche. He returned to Earth as often as he could and often arranged to meet his wife and son on planets and space stations dotted around Federation space. When the last of Excelsior-class ships were decommissioned he chose not to accept a CO’s post on their Sovereign-class replacements. He made the most of his temporary secondment to Starfleet Command to be with his family on Earth. The opportunity to command the Lexington, a Nebula-class vessel, arose – a vessel that accommodated the families and children – but there were no real opportunities for Cassie to explore her interests. They both agreed that the mission on Elysia would let them live together, work together and raise their child together.

“A choice for you,” came the almost lyrical tones of Luigi, “a traditional Italian wine to go with your meal or something special?”

The jovial restaurateur produced a bottle of Bajoran springwine and passed it into Bane Mather’s hands. It was a good deed. Any other Bajoran visitor to Luigi’s would have been delighted.

Bane forced a smile.

“I appreciate it, Luigi, I really do,” he said, calling the Italian in close as if to tell him a secret. “But to tell you the truth, I prefer the wine your cousin sends down from Lombardia.”

Bane tapped his ridged rose with his forefinger knowingly.

“A man with good taste,” beamed Luigi, but he made no effort to take back the bottle of springwine. “But please keep the springwine. Consider it a gift from everyone at Luigi’s. It’s our going away present to you and your family.”

Not wanting to offend, Bane accepted the gift and handed it over the table to Cassie. Luigi retreated again indoors, singing pleasantries to patrons.

“You used to drink springwine,” Bane’s wife teased.

“I used to...” he trailed off, his gaze returning to the sea and drifting to the distant horizon.

Freddie piped from behind his menu, “When will Ra-Mhenes get here, daddy?”

The glow of a transporter beam on the promenade answered the question.

A tall Efrosian scientist in a Starfleet uniform materialised. His grey hair was swept back into a sensible ponytail, revealing the pips on his turquoise collar and accentuating the sharpness of his skull.

They waved, beckoning the Efrosian to their table.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Ra-Mhenes apologised as he pulled up a chair. “I received more interest in my guest lecture at the Academy than I thought I would.”

“No need to apologise,” said Cassie, tilting the bottle of springwine on the table. “Are you fond of Bajoran springwine?”
“It goes through me, if you don’t mind me saying.” He ruffled Freddie’s hair and greeted Bane and Cassie with a bow of the head, as was his tradition.

“Well I might just have to keep this bottle for myself then.” Cassie smiled and put the gift into a satchel under her seat.

Bane clasped his hands on the table, leaning into his old friend.

“I don’t want to talk about work tonight...”

“Good,” Ra-Mhenes interjected with a grin and then brought a menu to his weak eyes to inspect.

“...but I do want to know if you’ve thought about my offer.”

The Efrosian kept scanning the menu.

“Come now, Mather,” Cassie cooed. “Let him at least decide what he wants to order first.”

Ra-Mhenes put the menu back down on the table. He turned to Cassandra and asked, “This is the place that has been making pizzas the same way for five hundred years, isn’t it?”

Cassie nodded. Bane waited, knowing that Ra-Mhenes was playing with him.

The Efrosian put his hands down flat on the table. “Then I know what I’m having.”

“My offer, Ra-Mhenes?” Bane persisted.

“Chief Science Officer of a Deep Space Station,” he murmured, pretending to mull over the offer. “And not just any Deep Space Station...but G-1, the first Federation outpost in the Gamma Quadrant.”

“You know I want you on this mission. I need people I’ve worked with before and I need people I can trust.”

Ra-Mhenes feigned a sigh and then smiled. “Of course, I’ll do it.”

Luigi returned with a bottle of his cousin’s wine from Lombardia and poured three generous glasses plus an orange juice for young Freddie as a waiter took the table’s order.

Bane Mather raised his glass for a toast.

“To G-1, to Elysia and to the future.”

To the future, Cassie repeated to herself but the bottle of Bajoran springwine jutting out of her satchel under the table reminded her just for a moment about her husband’s past.

 

[Gibraltar]

The imagery on display in that segment was amazing, from the description of the locale to the smells permeating the restaurant, you put the reader squarely in Luigi’s right along with you characters. Kudos!

So, now we’ve met our intrepid captain, his family, and the mission’s soon-to-be science officer, as well as learned that Mather has some dark history that seems related to Bajor or Bajorans.

I have only one thing to say…

Type faster!!

 

[CeJay]

Well, you may have started with a cliche but you clearly went into an entirely different direction to introduce your captain, his family and the newly minted science officer.

A well written, warm family moment in a beautiful setting. I concur with Gibraltar. I want to see more.

 

[Captain2395]

At least they haven’t requested to dock, Commander Letina Iyal thought. She chastised herself for allowing the thought to cross her mind. Although she still wondered what kind of hosts the station’s staff would be to Jem’hadar guests, especially officers who experienced her tactical simulations.

“We are being hailed by the Dominion ship,” reported Lieutenant Commander Nog from his console, unaware that he was shot to death in a holographic simulation earlier.

Admiral Sitak stood in the middle of Ops and straightened her back.

The emblem of the United Federation of Planets disappeared from the main viewer, replaced in a bleep with the image of a small, familiar Vorta smiling from behind his headset and eyepiece.

“Ambassador Weyoun,” Sitak began, “welcome to Elysia.”

The Vorta bowed his head gratefully.

“It is a pleasure to meet you at last Admiral Sitak...or should I say Ambassador,” Weyoun said from his ship. “I am looking forward to working with you on Elysia and I can assure you of the Founders’ fullest support for this Project. Who would have thought that the Federation and the Dominion would one day come together in the Gamma Quadrant?”

Letina Iyal had never met any of the Weyoun clones before but in the Alpha Quadrant his arrogant smirk and casual tyranny was well known and well remembered by those who survived the Dominion War.

“Thank you, Ambassador, but it will be several more days until I assume my new position. However, I will be attending a reception this evening on the surface. I hope you will be able to join me on Elysia.”

Weyoun smiled and bowed his head again, slightly.

“The Governor has already transmitted an invitation to our ship. A Dipomatic Reception in the Centralplex this evening, I believe. I would be more than happy to join you.”

The pleasantries continued for another minute or so. When the conversation was over, the comm-link ended with a bleep. Admiral Sitak turned away from the viewscreen and headed for a turbolift.

“I trust you will be joining me, Commander,” said Sitak as she stepped through the doorway and into the carriage. “I expect to see you in the Centralplex this evening in full dress uniform.”

The doors swished shut before the station’s Executive Officer could respond.

“Of course,” Iyal murmured to herself.

She walked over to Nog at his workstation.

“I’m going to prepare for this Reception on the surface. Keep an eye on things until I get back. And pay attention to that Dominion ship. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, let me know right away.”

Commander Letina Iyal headed for the exit. She wondered when she last wore her dress uniform and hoped it would still fit but as she headed for her quarters alone in the turbolift her thoughts turned again to the Dominion warship orbiting Elysia.

=/\=​

“What we are building on Elysia is not just a home for settlers from across the galaxy. We are building a home for ideas. Strong ideas. Progressive ideas. Ideas born of our shared desire for a more peaceful future. Ideas about reconciliation and co-operation among even the most diverse species.”

Dignitaries and reporters were packed into the stateroom on the Centralplex, a massive tritanium structure at the heart of the Elysian settlement. They watched the speech intently, holding glasses in their hands. Waiting staff stood on the perimeter with trays of refreshments, ready to pounce when the centrepiece of the reception was over and the organised mingling was to begin.

There was a warm round of applause for Governor Jead’s speech and then the waiting staff bounced into action, hovering around the stateroom, offering a selection of drinks and polite bitesize foods to guests.

Letina Iyal judged the Governor to be a typical of most Deltan men, handsome yet tender, warm and approachable even in traditional dress. His character was unique, though. The softness of his speech barely matched the strength of his personality or the force of his conviction.

Journalists crowded round Governor Jead. Iyal took them to be mainly freelancers, recording images and excerpts from the speech to transmit back to Earth, Vulcan, Betazed or the civilisations across both the Alpha Quadrant and the Gamma Quadrant, which were watching events on Elysia.

Admiral Sitak, the Federation’s soon-to-be ambassador to Elysia, was mingling as best as Vulcans can with the Governor’s entourage, Weyoun and a tall man who appeared to be the Karemman ambassador. Jead worked the room alone, although Iyal was aware of the two Jem’hadar bodyguards who maintained a silent watch over their Vorta from a quiet corner.

“I thought those pataQs were all dead,” came a low drunken growl from behind Iyal.

She turned to find the white-haired Klingon, Khleg, slumped in a chair, scrutinising a glass of clear rust-coloured liquid.

“And what is this drink they are serving?” he grumbled.

“Would you prefer some blood wine?” Iyal asked, a smile crossing her face at the sight of the familiar Klingon.

“This is no occasion for blood wine. I killed over a hundred Jem’hadar during the war and now we are expected to socialize with them and that Vorta.”

“Isn’t that what the Elysian Project is all about?” Iyal folded her arms, the smile remained. She found these exchanges with her new friend from Qu’nos to be most entertaining.

“I was born to be a warrior, not an ambassador...but I am loyal to the Empire and I will do as they ask.”

“Are you ready for next week? The first of the Elysian Conferences?”

Ambassador Khleg grunted, downed the glass and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“Conferences mean more talking. This whole colony is built on the idea that talking gets things done. Talking might have built your Federation but it certainly didn’t build the Klingon Empire...or the Dominion for that matter.”

Governor Jead started working the room with Sitak, Weyoun and another dignitary, who Iyal presumed to be the final ambassador from Karemma – the fourth civilisation represented on Elysia. The entourage was coming closer to the drunken Khleg, who showed no interest in rising from his seat or civility.

“The Dominion certainly seem to be committed to the Conferences,” Iyal remarked, watching Khleg’s reaction carefully. “I can’t imagine that they are comfortable with a Starfleet presence in the Gamma Quadrant but they haven’t protested to the construction of G-1. They have been more than accommodating.”

Khleg chortled as he summoned another drink. “That’s what worries me, Commander. I once learned a human expression on Earth. A leopard, they said, never changes its spots.”

The waiter arrived with a tray of drinks. The graceful Governor Jead was slowly drawing nearer, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries as he moved from one side of the room to the other. Iyal glanced from the Governor and then to the drinks offered on the tray. She took her time picking a glass for herself and another for Khleg.

“You might find this more to your taste,” Letina Iyal suggested, sipping from her glass with a grimace and passing another to Khleg.

The Klingon peered into the glass with suspicion. He sniffed the drink and then downed it in one go. The Trill’s choice of drink made his eyes grow wide and he laughed again through his sharp teeth.

“Now that is much more satisfying,” Khleg slurred, snatching another glass from the tray. “What is it?”

“Andorian spicewater with a human twist. Vodka if I’m not mistaken. It’s genuine alcohol from Earth. Totally authentic and unreplicated.”

Khleg’s face lit up and he clinked his glass together with the commander’s.

As the Klingon poured the drink into his mouth the Governor and his entourage finally arrived – Sitak, Weyoun and the Karemman.

“Ambassador Khleg,” Governor Jead smiled warmly and greeted him with a handshake. “I see you have been enjoying my staff’s hospitality.”

Iyal studied the Deltan more closely. His traditional dress of tight fabric garments under a flowing cloak and silver head-dress was grant and impressive but his voice and demeanour was gentler, softer, even seductive.

The Governor continued, “You already know Admiral Sitak and our Karemman ambassador, Hanok but I would like you to meet our Dominion representative, who just arrived earlier this evening, Weyoun.”

The Klingon lifted himself from his seat and deliberately stretched to tower over the Vorta. He suppressed the violent urges that would endanger the mission with a snarl.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Weyoun said with a bow. “Can I stress to you the importance the Founders’ attach to this mission? I know I speak for the entire Dominion when I say how pleased we are that the Klingon Empire has decided to be part of this venture here on Elysia.”

Khleg grinned, bearing his teeth. He was more menacing than pleasant. Iyal supposed that was his intention. Weyoun must have too. The little Vorta took a step back from the Klingon.

The Karemman, Hanok, laughed pleasantly, nervously.

Sitak deliberately broke the awkward silence in her usual neutral tone.

“I found the Governor’s speech to be most thoughtful,” the Vulcan said.

“Very much so,” Hanok added. “It was a very cogent explanation of the significance behind our conferences on Elysia.”

A merciful bleep from Iyal’s comm-badge interrupted the conversation as Nog’s voice was transmitted into the stateroom. “G-1 to Commander Iyal. An unidentified ship has entered the system. It is approaching Elysia. It appears to be Karemman but they are not responding to our hails.”

Iyal’s eyes met Sitak’s. She knew it was time to return to the station and sought approval from the Admiral.

Sitak nodded.

Letina Iyal took a step away from the group and slapped her comm-badge.

“How long until they get here, Mr Nog?” she asked.

A pause.

“Six minutes.”

Admiral Sitak and the Karemman ambassador Hanok stepped away from the group to join the Commander. Sitak’s measured poise was a picture of Vulcan calm. Hanok hunched over his clasped hands, a much more nervous character.

“Ambassador Hanok and I will be monitoring the situation from the Governor’s office,” said Sitak. “I expect to be kept informed.”

Hanok interrupted, “There must have been some kind of accident. This is highly irregular behaviour from a Karemman starship.”

Iyal raised her spotted hand in a calming motion.

“I’ll do my best to get to the bottom of this,” Iyal said. She tapped her comm-badge again. “Mr Nog, beam me up.”

Commander Letina Iyal stood upright in the Centralplex stateroom on Elysia and disappeared in a shimmer of light as Governor Jead and the ambassadors watched on.

 

[Gibraltar]

Heh, the diplomatic niceties aren’t even over and the outpost is facing its first mystery! Methinks DS9 will soon have to surrender it’s well deserved ‘Galactic Shit Magnet’ title to Elysia.


You’ve given us a host of fascinating characters in this installment, from the Deltan governor to the Klingon Ambassador… and to include the insufferable Wayoun into the mix is a stroke of genius. Unfortunately, as this takes place in the Gamma Quadrant, there will be a ready supply of Weyoun copies to replace all those that Ambassador Khleg’s is sure to dispatch

Again, this is terrific stuff. Keep it coming!

 

[CeJay]

Call me a weirdo but I actually always kinda liked Wayoun. What I like about this premise are the still, understandably raw feelings after the Dominion War, especially amongst Starfleet and the Klingons. It's going to be interesting to see how emotions are going to play a role in this brave new future with the Dominion as an ally.

 

[Captain2395]

Freddie Bane had always wanted to see the bridge of a starship. He did not mind that the USS Artemis was still in drydock, he just wanted the chance to see the top deck for himself and to sit in daddy’s chair.

Bane Mather kept an eye on his son as he talked over launch preparations with Lieutenant Ray Nagata, the engineer who oversaw the extensive refit of the Sabre-class vessel.

“Obviously we don’t envisage that the ship will have to carry many passengers with any great frequency,” the engineer explained, running his finger over his PADD, “so the changes in the deckplan are temporary. They’re designed to get us to Elysia safely with all the supplies and extra bodies we’re carrying. All of the other new features are permanent in case we need them in the Gamma Quadrant.”

“Good work,” Bane said, patting the engineer on the back. “Once the cargo has been secured, I want you to prepare the launch sequence.”

The engineer retreated to a console at the back of the bridge to continue his work while Captain Bane Mather turned his attention to his son and his chair.

“I’m afraid it’s time to go, buster,” Bane said with a smile. He picked up the name from his wife. Bajorans did not have the same tendency to assign their children pet names that came so naturally to humans. But ‘Buster’ stuck and Bane Mather was a rare kind of Bajoran, one uninterested in tradition.

Freddie stopped climbing on the command chair and his mother, Cassandra, helped him down onto the deck.

“I’ll see you for dinner tonight. We’ll be on our way to Elysia by then.”

Bane Mather gave his son a hug and kissed his wife on the cheek. They left the bridge, Bane smiling as he watched the turbolift doors close behind them and then the captain took the chance to sit in his own chair.

The Sabre-class line was small but the upgrade the Artemis had undergone introduced some of the most advanced technology in Starfleet to the tough little ship.

Bane Mather had insisted that a spacestation in the Gamma Quadrant needed proper support craft if it was to function properly. Three runabouts and some workbees would not suffice on the farthest of frontiers. He was assured the Artemis would be at his disposal when he accepted the CO’s position on G-1.

His thoughts were interrupted with the swoosh of the turbolift again. Ra-Mhenes strode onto the bridge, smiling at the sight of his old friend back in the captain’s chair and took his seat at the Science Officer’s workstation.

“I’m just back from the Cargo Bay,” Ra-Mhenes reported, swivelling in chair. “I checked hazardous materials myself. All secure.”

Bane nodded.

“All sections report ready, sir,” Lieutenant Nagata called from the Engineering console. “I have entered our launch sequence.”

The hum of engines in the background rose a pitch and the chirping and bleeping of computers on the bridge became more frequent.

“Ready to disembark, sir,” came a voice from the helm.

Bane Mather tensed in his chair, resting his elbow on the arm. He leaned forward intently watching the viewscreen. The blue hue of Earth. The crimson glow of Mars. The silver patchwork of stars across the dark sheet of space.

“Take us out,” he said. There was no need for specific instructions unless there was a glitch in Nagata’s launch sequence.

The echoes of clunking of metal could be heard on the bridge as the spider-like arms of drydock disengaged, releasing the Artemis into the Solar System. The ship seemed to glide effortlessly through the Utopia Planetia passing bigger, grander vessels under construction and undergoing refit, cruising easily between yellow workbees and white shuttles as they ferried staff and supplies around the shipyards.

Captain Bane Mather rose from his chair, still watching the screen.

“Set a course for the Bajoran wormhole. Warp seven.”

In an instant the Artemis blasted off towards the wormhole. Stars darted past the ship as it soared faster than light towards Bajor and the gateway to the Gamma Quadrant.

“Better let the station know we’re coming,” Bane said, nodding towards the Science station.

“Aye, sir,” said Ra-Mhenes tapping his console. His commands were met with a dull drone from the workstation.

“Is something wrong?” asked Bane, watching over the shoulder of his Science Officer.

“It could be nothing. Our last few subspace transmissions to G-1 and Elysia were unsuccessful. It isn’t uncommon to have problems like this when transmitting a signal over such a long range.”

“What’s causing the problem?” Bane asked. He felt unsettled.

Ra-Mhenes offered some reassurance. “All subspace communication with the Gamma Quadrant goes through the Culkis Array on the edge of Federation space. It’s new technology based on Hirogen technology Voyager studied in the Delta Quadrant. It is prone to interference from a nearby nebula.”

Bane stroked the ridges of his brow. “And there could be any number of factors affecting the strength of the signal in the Gamma Quadrant that we don’t know about.”

“Yes, and we won’t find out what those are until...or unless...we chart those star systems which the wormhole bypasses.”

“I see.” Bane realised he was stroking his brow again and brought his hands to his side. “Keep trying to contact the station. There’s nothing worse than guests who show up uninvited.”

Ra-Mhenes set to work on his console as Bane Mather took his seat again.

 

[Captain2395]

Thanks for the feedback guys. Have been away past couple of days so got a bit of catching up to do but thanks for your interest.

 

[CeJay]

Lost contact with G-1? Technical difficulties? Not bloody likely.