NO NO NO NO NO!!!
You simply CANNOT get the boys back together only for it to end like this?!?!
You simply CANNOT get the boys back together only for it to end like this?!?!
Star Trek: Fortitude - Season Five
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Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Five, Episode Twelve - “Behind Closed Doors”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
“Transporter Room… Transporter Room, come in!”
Valerie Archer ignored the yelling over the intercom system. She was far too busy to answer her Captain, even if it pained her to block his voice under any circumstance, but today, it was necessary. Standing alongside the transporter chief, the First Officer was focused on doing her job. There had only been a split-second during the horrific process of events in which to act, and now she was determined not to have that split-second wasted by anything.
“Diverting power to the confinement beam,” she called out.
“I’m getting a cohesion trace,” the transporter chief nodded in reply.
“Do we have them?”
Slowly the answer formed before her eyes. The swirling blue energy matrix of the beam-in came to a satisfying conclusion, depositing two hunched-over forms safely aboard the USS Fortitude and causing Valerie to break out in a wide grin.
They got them!
It had seemed impossible with the dampening field around the Iblan Trading vessel going offline, thanks to the auto-destruct sequence and leaving no time at all to rescue the pair of them from a blazing end… but they had them! Stepping forward eagerly, she watched as two familiar faces emerged from the bundle of limbs and clothing. She took delight in registering their reaction to being safe.
“Oh my God!,” Jason Armstrong gasped.
“You’re kidding me!,” James Morgan chuckled.
Valerie paused, a frown descending across her visage. Jim sounded different, and not like the empty-minded gremlin that had been kidnapped by Skarta Iblan. As she walked closer to the transport pad, Jim noticed her confusion and gave her a little wink. It only served to broaden her grin.
“Transporter room,” repeated the Captain’s voice,” report, please!”
“Archer here, sir,” the First Officer finally answered him. “They’re back, Ewan!”
ACT ONE
Watching the streaking stars from the Observation Lounge window, Ewan Llewellyn was taking a much-needed minute to simply comprehend the past several days. If anybody had told him in advance about James Morgan being the gremlin or that Skarta Iblan would kidnap him or that Jason Armstrong would affect an eleventh-hour rescue attempt only to be faced with an auto-destruct sequence…
Well, he wouldn’t have laughed but he would have had a tough time believing it. The most incredible part, the part where Jim’s repressed memories were unlocked by goodness-only-knows-what in the dying seconds, was the icing on an already inconceivable cake.
Ewan was so lost in his internal analysis that he failed to hear the door slide open behind him. He also failed to hear the approaching footsteps. It was only when a certain pair of gray shoulders loomed into the corner of his vision that he turned with a mixture of surprise and acceptance.
“Hey, Boxer,” the Welshman smiled.
“Trying to grasp it all, eh?,” Rear Admiral Blackmore grunted.
“How did you guess?”
“I know you too well. Besides, everybody aboard is doing the same, myself included.”
“Care for some coffee?,” Ewan offered, pointing towards the replicator.
“No, no thanks,” Ed declined, his eyes not shifting from the warp-distorted starfield beyond the Observation Lounge window. “We’ll be back at Starbase 499 in a few minutes and I’ve got a desk to return to. I just wanted to check up on you. I mean… all of us mourned the loss of Jim Morgan back in seventy-three but he was your crewman and I know the difference that it makes.”
“Bloody hell, Boxer, you’re just as bad as Valerie!”
“So you’re fine then?”
“Doctor Pulaski gave both Jim and Jason the once-over. They’re both alive and healthy and I couldn’t ask for anything further. It is fantastic news, it really is, and whatever emotional roller coasters have been traveled are over now.”
Blackmore hated to bring it up but as a member of Starfleet’s top brass, he felt that he had no other choice. Nevertheless, he broached the subject as carefully as he could. It was the part that Valerie had failed to mention. The part he knew that Ewan had already thought about and perhaps the most awkward part of the whole aftermath.
“Will you be pressing charges?”
“Against Jason, you mean?,” the Captain stated rather than asked him.
“He instigated an illegal transport and broke half a dozen regulations with that stunt.”
“And he didn’t even save Jim. We did, along with him. Look, I know the rulebooks say to ‘throw this document at this officer’ but can I really blame him for his actions? You and I both know that love is a tricky thing, Boxer. Damn it, he probably wasn’t even in proper control of his senses at the time… and I don’t want to bring all of that up in some kind of painful inquest. My reckoning is to ignore it. Do you object?”
“Object?,” said Blackmore immediately. “I was going to suggest the same!”
Ewan laughed, shaking his head gently.
There were times when he was the luckiest officer in Starfleet.
* * * *
Captain’s Log, Stardate 53776.2;
We have returned to the Santrag system and delivered Rear Admiral Blackmore back aboard Starbase 499. With the incident with Skarta Iblan being over, there is no reason why my ship and crew shouldn’t restart our mission of exploration. While we stock up on supplies, a newfound sense of calm has descended over my senior staff. I can only hope that we get the all-clear to depart from the Rear Admiral. As soon as his meeting with Veth Ka’Gerran is finished, I’ll be heading over with my request.
He found him waiting inside his office.
It instantly made the Rear Admiral furrow his brow with concern. Veth Ka’Gerran was one of the most polite people that he had ever met. Thanks to the unique situation that the exiled Santragan found himself in, he was also one of the timidest. To preempt the scheduled meeting by turning up and making such a blatant display of his frustration was rare. No, scratch that, unheard of.
“Veth,” Blackmore said in a low tone,” what’s the matter?”
“Ah, Boxer, it’s about time!”
The exclamation actually provoked recoil from his host. His frown only intensified as he walked around his desk and sat down behind it. Veth barely moved in response, his wiry arms crossed in irritation, his legs matching. His countenance was dominated by narrow eyes that bore straight into Blackmore’s bearded features. He was certainly more unkempt than usual, his wild hairstyle matted and twisted around the gnarled ring of horns that it crowned. For the first time in a long time, the Rear Admiral detected genuine fright, clear of the general malaise into which the former Prime Minister and Ambassador had sunk. Whatever this was, it was going to be huge.
“Why didn't you answer my calls earlier?”
“My apologies, old friend,” Ed calmed him,” but we’ve been somewhat busy.”
“None of that matters,” Veth immediately snapped at him,” not when compared to what I’ve got to tell you. I told you that my messages were urgent! I’m acting on intelligence that has a very strict time frame, you know!”
“Intelligence? What are you talking about?”
“My exile has not been complete over the past year, Boxer. After all, Starbase 499 is home to a handful of Santragan nationals, and rightly so. Some of them are aware of my presence here. Don’t worry, they won’t cause trouble. Like me, they are opposed to the Santragan People’s Freedom Democracy and that pointless People’s Council that they’ve set up down there. They keep me updated on bits and pieces of news, especially important information considering that communications between your office and the People’s Council have all but frozen over recently.”
“So basically you have spies working for you? Blackmore felt a headache coming on.
“I’ve taken steps to distance the Federation from my actions. I wouldn’t want anybody to be dragged down, should my illegal activity be uncovered. However, that might not be a worry for either of us in the near future.”
“What do you mean?”
Veth Ka’Gerran placed his hands flat on the desk’s surface. It was done to emphasize the severity of his next point. “Are you aware of the Santragan mining operation on Santrag IV?”
“Vaguely,” Blackmore recalled. “It was set up after the revolution to help productivity and it continues to be a strong source of materials for the industrial sector. In fact, we’ve noticed an increase in shipping lately. Times must be good.”
“The mining operation on Santrag IV is a front, Boxer, and it had been for quite some time. The People’s Council is secretly constructing additional cruisers to add to the Santragan fleet… heavily armed cruisers. It is the belief of my contact that this increase in weaponry expansion is to ensure that you have no alternative when it comes to bowing to the forthcoming demands.”
The Rear Admiral didn’t really want to know but he asked anyway. “Forthcoming demands?”
“Santrag II is preparing to leave the United Federation of Planets.”
ACT TWO
“That’s crazy! That's totally crazy!”
“Well, Valerie, we’ll soon find out,” Blackmore told the Fortitude’s First Officer as he brought her up-to-speed on the information that Veth Ka’Gerran had divulged to him. “Ewan’s up on the Bridge now with Sollik. They’re using the sensors to scan the mining colony and see if they can detect this new fleet.”
Commander Archer couldn’t help the wave of resentment from washing over her. She paused to almost punch the turbolift controls, blanking the disapproving glare from her superior officer. It was her anger and she could do what she wanted with it… and it was certainly justified after all. The situation on Santrag II had gone from bad to worse to almost catastrophic over the years. The images playing most predominantly in her mind were the images of the injured men, women, and children that she had helped during the aftermath of that terrible storm, eighteen months ago. Helped illegally, one might add. She had seen, first hand, the arrogance of the People’s Council.
“We should have kicked them out during the damn revolution!”
“Such judgments are not ours to make,” Ed reminded her calmly.
“Maybe they should be!,” Valerie objected, barely keeping a respectable tone. “We’re the one out here, sir. The ones with experience in dealing with them! The Federation Council might be eager to keep every single ally that we have at the moment, and maybe they’re right to do so. Santrag II is an exception… and now look where we are! A gigantic fleet is being assembled in secret so that they can come off as all heroic when they threaten us at gunpoint! That can’t be doing the Federation any good, can it?”
“I don’t like it either, Valerie,” Blackmore had to admit to her.
“It’s not about who likes what, sir. Now it’s become about who survives what…”
* * * *
He was looking at a personnel record.
Jason Armstrong stepped closer, his arrival as-yet unnoticed, to peer quietly over the shoulder of James Morgan and see just which personnel record that it was. The operations officer slowly closed his eyes in understanding when he saw a young female face, fresh and eager, smiling back out of the PADD.
“I keep forgetting just how much you’ve missed,” he sighed.
Jim turned without shock, welcoming the warmth of Jason’s hand on his neck.
“I’d like to think that she gave the Borg a run for their money,” he noted weakly, placing the picture of Doctor Lynn Boswell on the table and pushing it away. To return and find that so much was different. So much change and so much loss. It was challenging for the healthiest of minds, let alone one that had been ravaged by trauma and chaos. “First Lynn, then that Shurvun business that I read about. The loss of the first Fortitude and Arden Vuro is gone too. I even gathered that the Rear Admiral was in and out of a coma! Is there anything else?”
“Aside from the Captain and his mechanical arm,” Jason began.
“Damn, Jay!,” Jim blurted out.
It was a reaction beyond his control. There were still some primal instincts rising to the surface every now and then. The miracle of his recovery wouldn’t be completely perfect. A tiny recoil on Jason’s part was quickly countered by a sympathetic embrace and the Kentuckian was kneeling down beside his boyfriend, holding him tightly. He was immediately calmed, almost as if the hug had healing properties.
“It’s just going to take a while, okay? Getting everything in order, everything that I’ve missed… considering that there are three years of it…”
“I know, I know,” Jason whispered, not letting go. “I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” came the indisputable gratitude.
Gently they separated their entangled arms and shared a graceful, unhurried kiss. For all of the trouble ahead and all of the struggle behind them, the fact that they would be together again made everything seem small and insignificant in comparison. Together, they felt indestructible. It had only been when Jim left Jason’s side that he had fallen to the apparent specter of death. It was a mistake that neither man wanted to repeat. Their lips parted tenderly and a smile was shared to rebel against the weight of their circumstances.
“I do have one other question,” Jim had to ask. “In three years, did you…?”
“No,” Jason interrupted him firmly, shaking his head with emphasis.
“Not once?”
“Jim, do you trust me?”
“More than anybody in the Galaxy, Jay. You know that.”
“Then trust me when I say that there was never, ever anybody else. There never would have been and there never will be. You were the first and the only man that I have ever loved, and you’ll forever remain that. Even the ship must have realized since it took us quite a while to fill the vacancy at tactical. A vacancy that I occupied for some time. I wasn’t going to let anybody replace you professionally and I never would personally.”
There were tears welling up in Jim’s dark eyes. He desperately blinked them away but it was too late. Jason had seen them. Reaching out, the operations officer placed a hand on his boyfriend’s cheek and encouraged them to flow freely. As they did, leaving their long stains down to Jim’s trembling mouth, both men touched foreheads and let the silence do the talking.
Together, they sat and cried.
Together, they healed.
* * * *
“Activate the holographic viewscreen, intrusive mode.”
The three-dimensional representation of Santrag IV was perhaps the most detailed image ever rendered by Fortitude’s advanced Bridge display. Ewan Llewellyn gave a short hum of interest as he focused on the minuscule aspects of the projection. The mining operation set up on the surface of the otherwise-lifeless moon was certainly complex, to say the least. Tiny loading vehicles cut threads into the surface dust as they hauled crates of rock and slag from structure to structure. Even the odd mine worker was visible through the luminescent windows that pin-pricked the facility.
After two laps of the image, Ewan could find nothing out of the ordinary. “Is there anything beyond this, Sollik?”
The Suliban chief engineer was about to answer him in the negative before something caught his beady yellow eyes. The pause that followed was enough to grab the Captain’s attention. He turned to his right, glaring at the engineering console. If there was anything beyond the projection’s scope, he needed to know.
“Sollik?,” he repeated, his Welsh accent tinted by trepidation.
“There’s a slight phase variance at bearing two-six-two, mark eight,” came the reply from behind a green-scaled frown. “It could be nothing, but then again, it is somewhat precise for random interference.”
“Is there any way to compensate for the variance?”
“I’m trying… I think so. I’ll bring it up on the projection.”
The glowing orb of Santrag VI flickered and vanished at Sollik’s command, instead of being replaced by a seemingly-empty spatial grid. Ewan watched in horror as the sensors compensated for the phase variance. Suddenly, the spatial grid wasn’t very empty. It was quite the opposite in fact. Feeling his jaw drop involuntarily, the Welshman stepped forward to better comprehend what he was seeing.
Eight of them hung together in a deadly formation, hidden from view.
Veth Ka’Gerran was right.
The Santragan Fleet was being upgraded… severely.
Season Five, Episode Twelve - “Behind Closed Doors”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
“Transporter Room… Transporter Room, come in!”
Valerie Archer ignored the yelling over the intercom system. She was far too busy to answer her Captain, even if it pained her to block his voice under any circumstance, but today, it was necessary. Standing alongside the transporter chief, the First Officer was focused on doing her job. There had only been a split-second during the horrific process of events in which to act, and now she was determined not to have that split-second wasted by anything.
“Diverting power to the confinement beam,” she called out.
“I’m getting a cohesion trace,” the transporter chief nodded in reply.
“Do we have them?”
Slowly the answer formed before her eyes. The swirling blue energy matrix of the beam-in came to a satisfying conclusion, depositing two hunched-over forms safely aboard the USS Fortitude and causing Valerie to break out in a wide grin.
They got them!
It had seemed impossible with the dampening field around the Iblan Trading vessel going offline, thanks to the auto-destruct sequence and leaving no time at all to rescue the pair of them from a blazing end… but they had them! Stepping forward eagerly, she watched as two familiar faces emerged from the bundle of limbs and clothing. She took delight in registering their reaction to being safe.
“Oh my God!,” Jason Armstrong gasped.
“You’re kidding me!,” James Morgan chuckled.
Valerie paused, a frown descending across her visage. Jim sounded different, and not like the empty-minded gremlin that had been kidnapped by Skarta Iblan. As she walked closer to the transport pad, Jim noticed her confusion and gave her a little wink. It only served to broaden her grin.
“Transporter room,” repeated the Captain’s voice,” report, please!”
“Archer here, sir,” the First Officer finally answered him. “They’re back, Ewan!”
ACT ONE
Watching the streaking stars from the Observation Lounge window, Ewan Llewellyn was taking a much-needed minute to simply comprehend the past several days. If anybody had told him in advance about James Morgan being the gremlin or that Skarta Iblan would kidnap him or that Jason Armstrong would affect an eleventh-hour rescue attempt only to be faced with an auto-destruct sequence…
Well, he wouldn’t have laughed but he would have had a tough time believing it. The most incredible part, the part where Jim’s repressed memories were unlocked by goodness-only-knows-what in the dying seconds, was the icing on an already inconceivable cake.
Ewan was so lost in his internal analysis that he failed to hear the door slide open behind him. He also failed to hear the approaching footsteps. It was only when a certain pair of gray shoulders loomed into the corner of his vision that he turned with a mixture of surprise and acceptance.
“Hey, Boxer,” the Welshman smiled.
“Trying to grasp it all, eh?,” Rear Admiral Blackmore grunted.
“How did you guess?”
“I know you too well. Besides, everybody aboard is doing the same, myself included.”
“Care for some coffee?,” Ewan offered, pointing towards the replicator.
“No, no thanks,” Ed declined, his eyes not shifting from the warp-distorted starfield beyond the Observation Lounge window. “We’ll be back at Starbase 499 in a few minutes and I’ve got a desk to return to. I just wanted to check up on you. I mean… all of us mourned the loss of Jim Morgan back in seventy-three but he was your crewman and I know the difference that it makes.”
“Bloody hell, Boxer, you’re just as bad as Valerie!”
“So you’re fine then?”
“Doctor Pulaski gave both Jim and Jason the once-over. They’re both alive and healthy and I couldn’t ask for anything further. It is fantastic news, it really is, and whatever emotional roller coasters have been traveled are over now.”
Blackmore hated to bring it up but as a member of Starfleet’s top brass, he felt that he had no other choice. Nevertheless, he broached the subject as carefully as he could. It was the part that Valerie had failed to mention. The part he knew that Ewan had already thought about and perhaps the most awkward part of the whole aftermath.
“Will you be pressing charges?”
“Against Jason, you mean?,” the Captain stated rather than asked him.
“He instigated an illegal transport and broke half a dozen regulations with that stunt.”
“And he didn’t even save Jim. We did, along with him. Look, I know the rulebooks say to ‘throw this document at this officer’ but can I really blame him for his actions? You and I both know that love is a tricky thing, Boxer. Damn it, he probably wasn’t even in proper control of his senses at the time… and I don’t want to bring all of that up in some kind of painful inquest. My reckoning is to ignore it. Do you object?”
“Object?,” said Blackmore immediately. “I was going to suggest the same!”
Ewan laughed, shaking his head gently.
There were times when he was the luckiest officer in Starfleet.
* * * *
Captain’s Log, Stardate 53776.2;
We have returned to the Santrag system and delivered Rear Admiral Blackmore back aboard Starbase 499. With the incident with Skarta Iblan being over, there is no reason why my ship and crew shouldn’t restart our mission of exploration. While we stock up on supplies, a newfound sense of calm has descended over my senior staff. I can only hope that we get the all-clear to depart from the Rear Admiral. As soon as his meeting with Veth Ka’Gerran is finished, I’ll be heading over with my request.
He found him waiting inside his office.
It instantly made the Rear Admiral furrow his brow with concern. Veth Ka’Gerran was one of the most polite people that he had ever met. Thanks to the unique situation that the exiled Santragan found himself in, he was also one of the timidest. To preempt the scheduled meeting by turning up and making such a blatant display of his frustration was rare. No, scratch that, unheard of.
“Veth,” Blackmore said in a low tone,” what’s the matter?”
“Ah, Boxer, it’s about time!”
The exclamation actually provoked recoil from his host. His frown only intensified as he walked around his desk and sat down behind it. Veth barely moved in response, his wiry arms crossed in irritation, his legs matching. His countenance was dominated by narrow eyes that bore straight into Blackmore’s bearded features. He was certainly more unkempt than usual, his wild hairstyle matted and twisted around the gnarled ring of horns that it crowned. For the first time in a long time, the Rear Admiral detected genuine fright, clear of the general malaise into which the former Prime Minister and Ambassador had sunk. Whatever this was, it was going to be huge.
“Why didn't you answer my calls earlier?”
“My apologies, old friend,” Ed calmed him,” but we’ve been somewhat busy.”
“None of that matters,” Veth immediately snapped at him,” not when compared to what I’ve got to tell you. I told you that my messages were urgent! I’m acting on intelligence that has a very strict time frame, you know!”
“Intelligence? What are you talking about?”
“My exile has not been complete over the past year, Boxer. After all, Starbase 499 is home to a handful of Santragan nationals, and rightly so. Some of them are aware of my presence here. Don’t worry, they won’t cause trouble. Like me, they are opposed to the Santragan People’s Freedom Democracy and that pointless People’s Council that they’ve set up down there. They keep me updated on bits and pieces of news, especially important information considering that communications between your office and the People’s Council have all but frozen over recently.”
“So basically you have spies working for you? Blackmore felt a headache coming on.
“I’ve taken steps to distance the Federation from my actions. I wouldn’t want anybody to be dragged down, should my illegal activity be uncovered. However, that might not be a worry for either of us in the near future.”
“What do you mean?”
Veth Ka’Gerran placed his hands flat on the desk’s surface. It was done to emphasize the severity of his next point. “Are you aware of the Santragan mining operation on Santrag IV?”
“Vaguely,” Blackmore recalled. “It was set up after the revolution to help productivity and it continues to be a strong source of materials for the industrial sector. In fact, we’ve noticed an increase in shipping lately. Times must be good.”
“The mining operation on Santrag IV is a front, Boxer, and it had been for quite some time. The People’s Council is secretly constructing additional cruisers to add to the Santragan fleet… heavily armed cruisers. It is the belief of my contact that this increase in weaponry expansion is to ensure that you have no alternative when it comes to bowing to the forthcoming demands.”
The Rear Admiral didn’t really want to know but he asked anyway. “Forthcoming demands?”
“Santrag II is preparing to leave the United Federation of Planets.”
ACT TWO
“That’s crazy! That's totally crazy!”
“Well, Valerie, we’ll soon find out,” Blackmore told the Fortitude’s First Officer as he brought her up-to-speed on the information that Veth Ka’Gerran had divulged to him. “Ewan’s up on the Bridge now with Sollik. They’re using the sensors to scan the mining colony and see if they can detect this new fleet.”
Commander Archer couldn’t help the wave of resentment from washing over her. She paused to almost punch the turbolift controls, blanking the disapproving glare from her superior officer. It was her anger and she could do what she wanted with it… and it was certainly justified after all. The situation on Santrag II had gone from bad to worse to almost catastrophic over the years. The images playing most predominantly in her mind were the images of the injured men, women, and children that she had helped during the aftermath of that terrible storm, eighteen months ago. Helped illegally, one might add. She had seen, first hand, the arrogance of the People’s Council.
“We should have kicked them out during the damn revolution!”
“Such judgments are not ours to make,” Ed reminded her calmly.
“Maybe they should be!,” Valerie objected, barely keeping a respectable tone. “We’re the one out here, sir. The ones with experience in dealing with them! The Federation Council might be eager to keep every single ally that we have at the moment, and maybe they’re right to do so. Santrag II is an exception… and now look where we are! A gigantic fleet is being assembled in secret so that they can come off as all heroic when they threaten us at gunpoint! That can’t be doing the Federation any good, can it?”
“I don’t like it either, Valerie,” Blackmore had to admit to her.
“It’s not about who likes what, sir. Now it’s become about who survives what…”
* * * *
He was looking at a personnel record.
Jason Armstrong stepped closer, his arrival as-yet unnoticed, to peer quietly over the shoulder of James Morgan and see just which personnel record that it was. The operations officer slowly closed his eyes in understanding when he saw a young female face, fresh and eager, smiling back out of the PADD.
“I keep forgetting just how much you’ve missed,” he sighed.
Jim turned without shock, welcoming the warmth of Jason’s hand on his neck.
“I’d like to think that she gave the Borg a run for their money,” he noted weakly, placing the picture of Doctor Lynn Boswell on the table and pushing it away. To return and find that so much was different. So much change and so much loss. It was challenging for the healthiest of minds, let alone one that had been ravaged by trauma and chaos. “First Lynn, then that Shurvun business that I read about. The loss of the first Fortitude and Arden Vuro is gone too. I even gathered that the Rear Admiral was in and out of a coma! Is there anything else?”
“Aside from the Captain and his mechanical arm,” Jason began.
“Damn, Jay!,” Jim blurted out.
It was a reaction beyond his control. There were still some primal instincts rising to the surface every now and then. The miracle of his recovery wouldn’t be completely perfect. A tiny recoil on Jason’s part was quickly countered by a sympathetic embrace and the Kentuckian was kneeling down beside his boyfriend, holding him tightly. He was immediately calmed, almost as if the hug had healing properties.
“It’s just going to take a while, okay? Getting everything in order, everything that I’ve missed… considering that there are three years of it…”
“I know, I know,” Jason whispered, not letting go. “I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” came the indisputable gratitude.
Gently they separated their entangled arms and shared a graceful, unhurried kiss. For all of the trouble ahead and all of the struggle behind them, the fact that they would be together again made everything seem small and insignificant in comparison. Together, they felt indestructible. It had only been when Jim left Jason’s side that he had fallen to the apparent specter of death. It was a mistake that neither man wanted to repeat. Their lips parted tenderly and a smile was shared to rebel against the weight of their circumstances.
“I do have one other question,” Jim had to ask. “In three years, did you…?”
“No,” Jason interrupted him firmly, shaking his head with emphasis.
“Not once?”
“Jim, do you trust me?”
“More than anybody in the Galaxy, Jay. You know that.”
“Then trust me when I say that there was never, ever anybody else. There never would have been and there never will be. You were the first and the only man that I have ever loved, and you’ll forever remain that. Even the ship must have realized since it took us quite a while to fill the vacancy at tactical. A vacancy that I occupied for some time. I wasn’t going to let anybody replace you professionally and I never would personally.”
There were tears welling up in Jim’s dark eyes. He desperately blinked them away but it was too late. Jason had seen them. Reaching out, the operations officer placed a hand on his boyfriend’s cheek and encouraged them to flow freely. As they did, leaving their long stains down to Jim’s trembling mouth, both men touched foreheads and let the silence do the talking.
Together, they sat and cried.
Together, they healed.
* * * *
“Activate the holographic viewscreen, intrusive mode.”
The three-dimensional representation of Santrag IV was perhaps the most detailed image ever rendered by Fortitude’s advanced Bridge display. Ewan Llewellyn gave a short hum of interest as he focused on the minuscule aspects of the projection. The mining operation set up on the surface of the otherwise-lifeless moon was certainly complex, to say the least. Tiny loading vehicles cut threads into the surface dust as they hauled crates of rock and slag from structure to structure. Even the odd mine worker was visible through the luminescent windows that pin-pricked the facility.
After two laps of the image, Ewan could find nothing out of the ordinary. “Is there anything beyond this, Sollik?”
The Suliban chief engineer was about to answer him in the negative before something caught his beady yellow eyes. The pause that followed was enough to grab the Captain’s attention. He turned to his right, glaring at the engineering console. If there was anything beyond the projection’s scope, he needed to know.
“Sollik?,” he repeated, his Welsh accent tinted by trepidation.
“There’s a slight phase variance at bearing two-six-two, mark eight,” came the reply from behind a green-scaled frown. “It could be nothing, but then again, it is somewhat precise for random interference.”
“Is there any way to compensate for the variance?”
“I’m trying… I think so. I’ll bring it up on the projection.”
The glowing orb of Santrag VI flickered and vanished at Sollik’s command, instead of being replaced by a seemingly-empty spatial grid. Ewan watched in horror as the sensors compensated for the phase variance. Suddenly, the spatial grid wasn’t very empty. It was quite the opposite in fact. Feeling his jaw drop involuntarily, the Welshman stepped forward to better comprehend what he was seeing.
Eight of them hung together in a deadly formation, hidden from view.
Veth Ka’Gerran was right.
The Santragan Fleet was being upgraded… severely.
ACT THREE
“Captain Llewellyn, what a pleasant surprise.”
The visage that filled the viewscreen was not a pleasing one. Ewan Llewellyn had only seen it once before and, as such, had forgotten just how repulsive it was. There was no polite way of putting it. To any culture or any race, Tret Bra’Kala was simply ugly. His rotund scalp was home to a layer of grease rather than hair, the Santragan vestigial horns being all the more noticeable because of it. Despite the wide dimensions of the image in which he appeared, there was a good deal of his hefty frame cut away. It was probably for the better, he thought, suppressing a wince of disgust.
“Mister President,” the Captain greeted him as best as he could. “With all due respect, I was under the impression that the People’s Council of the Santragan People’s Freedom Democracy benefited from a rotating presidency. I wasn’t expecting to find you still holding the reins of power.”
It was a lie, of course. Ewan knew full well that Tret Bra’Kala wouldn’t be removed from his presidential position by something as inconsequential as a constitutional rule. Of all of the politicians that he had encountered over his years as a Starfleet officer, this man was the most ruthlessly ambitious of them all… and according to Veth Ka’Gerran, the most morally corrupt, too. He knew his type all too well.
“The people weren’t prepared to have their leader step down,” Bra’Kala chuckled, the joke that he made being lost on Llewellyn. “It would seem that my public service calling has me in conversation with you once more. What can I do for you?”
“Okay, well, I’ll come straight to the point. I have reason to believe that you might be undertaking some seriously illegal activity at your mining colony on Santrag IV, Mister President. I apologize for this blunt accusation but I’m sure that there’s some reasonable explanation. In the interest of our continued unity, I thought that it was best to bring my concerns directly to your government.”
The lack of mentioning the actual detection of the new fleet was deliberate. Llewellyn wanted to read Bra’Kala’s reactions.
It was odd to be confronted with the echo of laughter.
“That’s quite a theory, Captain. I would only be too happy to set your mind at rest. Why don’t you and Rear Admiral Blackmore beam down to my location? I’m currently touring the historical township, several miles outside the capital. You can join me for a banquet and we’ll discuss these accusations.”
That was it. No anger? No denial? No yelling?
“Agreed,” Ewan heard himself say. Was it really this easy?
“Excellent! I’m sure that you’ll enjoy your visit, Captain. This place is like a little slice of the past. What better place is there to debate our future? I await your arrival.”
The connection went dead.
Ewan slumped back into his command chair, mulling over the facts.
“Sir, if I may venture an observation?”
“Go ahead, Sollik.”
“That sounds like a trap to me.”
The Welshman turned to his Suliban colleague with a wry smile. It was just what he had been thinking. Tret Bra’Kala must have known that the secret fleet additions would be found out, sooner or later, and he must have had a contingency plan in place. But what of this historical town, preserving the past? Why there and not the capital, especially given the tiny distance of several miles. Nevertheless, he had no alternative.
“I agree,” he said, rising to his feet,” so we’ll form a Plan B.”
* * * *
The portly politician was having a very good day.
President Tret Bra’Kala had always known that the moment would arrive when those meddling Starfleet fools would learn about, or indeed, discover for themselves, the new Santragan cruisers being constructed over Santrag IV. The refractive shield technology developed to mask the subterfuge was the perfect cover, but not all covers were entirely water-tight. This one had leaked through other sources and through other, less loyal lips than his. Soon he would take great pleasure in tracking down just who had tipped Captain Llewellyn and Rear Admiral Blackmore off. Then the pleasure of killing that traitor would be just as rewarding.
As the whine of two transporter beams filled the ancient marble walls, Tret snapped his oily fingers. Before the materialization process could be completed, four Santragan guards had their weapons raised and loaded. A fifth guard tapped a small control pad, activating a sensory interference field that would seal the effectiveness of the plan. Everything flowed smoothly towards the conclusion. Their two Starfleet guests were surrounded by armed guards, cut off from their starship and starbase.
The expression of mistrust and apprehension on the Human faces was justified.
“What the hell is going on?,” Edward Blackmore barked.
“President Bra’Kala,” Ewan Llewellyn demanded,” what is the meaning of this?”
“Isn’t it obvious, Captain?,” the corrupt leader hissed with glee. “I just couldn’t let you remain in orbit, out of my reach, knowing what you know. Your theory about the illegal activity at the mining colony is correct. I feel much safer with you two officious annoyances where I can keep my eyes on you!”
As he wheezed towards them, Tret’s breathing sounded like steam venting from an old piston engine. The analogy suited their surroundings, Ewan thought as his combadge was snatched from his chest. Gas-powered torches lined the walls, casting an eerie flickering glow over the gathering. It was like traveling backward in time. He almost found himself wishing that it were so. At least then, there would be no repugnant Tret Bra’Kala to deal with.
“Listen to me, you bastard,” Blackmore growled as his combadge was also taken away. “You are the designated ruler of a Federation member world! You cannot go around kidnapping Starfleet officers! This act alone threatens to violate your member status, damn it!”
“But that’s the idea, Rear Admiral,” Bra’Kala chuckled.
“You’re leaving the Federation,” Ewan questioned,” and you’re doing it like this?”
“I’m doing it in a way that best suits my people! For too long, you’ve hung over this planet and looked down upon us with your lofty values and precious morality! At first, my people were confused. They thought that such a lifestyle was beneficial and that led to the revolution. Believe me when I tell you that my resulting leadership is the only positive aspect of that whole experience!”
Throwing the pair of combadges to the stone floor, Tret stamped on them with blatant relish. Ewan and Ed were watching a madman with control over their very lives. It sent chills down their spines in unison as if they were telepathically linked.
“And what of our Federation membership status?,” Bra’Kala continued, spewing his rhetoric as if he was practicing it for a larger event. “All that you’ve done is continually stick your self-righteous noses into our affairs! I know all about your unlawful away team, Captain, last year, during the storms. Your latest nefarious project too, the Human biosign that you placed in our capital city. No doubt here to spy on me…”
“Wait, Human biosign?,” Llewellyn protested. “I know nothing of this!”
“Please… Your objection seals your guilt!”
“If we’re guilty of anything,” Rear Admiral Blackmore snapped at Bra’Kala,” it is of caring too much about the Santragan people and being concerned when their President turns out to be a stuck-up son of a bitch!”
The satisfied smirk on Bra’Kala’s face disappeared.
“Your trial will determine that. Guards… take them away.”
EPILOGUE
“Human biosign,” Ewan thought aloud. “What is he talking about?”
“I have no idea,” Ed had to admit. “I’m sure that it’ll come out in this blasted show-trial.”
“You would tell me if you did know, right?”
“Of course, I would!,” the older man yelled, thumping the cold wall of the murky, dank cell that he and his best friend stood in. a single gas-powered torch provided scant illumination, casting long shadows that made every word and movement seem sinister and portentous. Feeling his uncontrolled action draw blood between his knuckles, he recoiled, seething at the discomfort. “For God’s sake, Ewan, we can’t be used in such a twisted game! Our faces cannot be on anti-Federation posters!”
“There’s always Plan B,” the Captain said, trying to comfort him.
“It’ll never work. It doesn’t guarantee our escape.”
Ewan succumbed to his own self-doubt, pushed that little extra distance by Ed’s vocal concerns. Plan D had been cobbled together in a hurry and it was laden with a serious risk of detection. It was the truth, he had to admit. It hardly guaranteed their escape. They simply weren’t expecting Tret Bra’Kala to act so ruthlessly and so quickly.
“What are you saying, Boxer?”
“I’m saying that we have to do whatever we can to stop their show-trial from taking place.”
Allowing his mind to be assaulted with possible answers, Llewellyn started staring at a wall, letting his eyes shut down. When he finally returned his focus to them, they were looking directly at the gas-powered torch as they were drawn to the flickering light. He dared to not point it out. Turning around, however, he saw that the Rear Admiral had settled down on the same conclusion. They dwelled in the foreboding, agonizing silence for what seemed like an eternity before.
Ed just nodded. “You have to,” he growled.
Not quite able to fully comprehend the brutal finality of his actions, Ewan flexed the mechanical gears within his left arm. Reaching out, his synthetic fingers wrapped themselves around the pipe leading into the base of the torch. It was rusty, degraded, and weathered with age. An easy thing to break. The natural and highly-toxic gas inside would do the job slowly, quietly, and painlessly.
The Welshman gave his commanding officer one final, regretful look. “It has been an honor to serve with you, sir.”
“Likewise, buddy… likewise…”
The End.
ORBING MASTER - I wouldn't kill off the boys like that. That would make me some kind of monster, wouldn't it?
“Captain Llewellyn, what a pleasant surprise.”
The visage that filled the viewscreen was not a pleasing one. Ewan Llewellyn had only seen it once before and, as such, had forgotten just how repulsive it was. There was no polite way of putting it. To any culture or any race, Tret Bra’Kala was simply ugly. His rotund scalp was home to a layer of grease rather than hair, the Santragan vestigial horns being all the more noticeable because of it. Despite the wide dimensions of the image in which he appeared, there was a good deal of his hefty frame cut away. It was probably for the better, he thought, suppressing a wince of disgust.
“Mister President,” the Captain greeted him as best as he could. “With all due respect, I was under the impression that the People’s Council of the Santragan People’s Freedom Democracy benefited from a rotating presidency. I wasn’t expecting to find you still holding the reins of power.”
It was a lie, of course. Ewan knew full well that Tret Bra’Kala wouldn’t be removed from his presidential position by something as inconsequential as a constitutional rule. Of all of the politicians that he had encountered over his years as a Starfleet officer, this man was the most ruthlessly ambitious of them all… and according to Veth Ka’Gerran, the most morally corrupt, too. He knew his type all too well.
“The people weren’t prepared to have their leader step down,” Bra’Kala chuckled, the joke that he made being lost on Llewellyn. “It would seem that my public service calling has me in conversation with you once more. What can I do for you?”
“Okay, well, I’ll come straight to the point. I have reason to believe that you might be undertaking some seriously illegal activity at your mining colony on Santrag IV, Mister President. I apologize for this blunt accusation but I’m sure that there’s some reasonable explanation. In the interest of our continued unity, I thought that it was best to bring my concerns directly to your government.”
The lack of mentioning the actual detection of the new fleet was deliberate. Llewellyn wanted to read Bra’Kala’s reactions.
It was odd to be confronted with the echo of laughter.
“That’s quite a theory, Captain. I would only be too happy to set your mind at rest. Why don’t you and Rear Admiral Blackmore beam down to my location? I’m currently touring the historical township, several miles outside the capital. You can join me for a banquet and we’ll discuss these accusations.”
That was it. No anger? No denial? No yelling?
“Agreed,” Ewan heard himself say. Was it really this easy?
“Excellent! I’m sure that you’ll enjoy your visit, Captain. This place is like a little slice of the past. What better place is there to debate our future? I await your arrival.”
The connection went dead.
Ewan slumped back into his command chair, mulling over the facts.
“Sir, if I may venture an observation?”
“Go ahead, Sollik.”
“That sounds like a trap to me.”
The Welshman turned to his Suliban colleague with a wry smile. It was just what he had been thinking. Tret Bra’Kala must have known that the secret fleet additions would be found out, sooner or later, and he must have had a contingency plan in place. But what of this historical town, preserving the past? Why there and not the capital, especially given the tiny distance of several miles. Nevertheless, he had no alternative.
“I agree,” he said, rising to his feet,” so we’ll form a Plan B.”
* * * *
The portly politician was having a very good day.
President Tret Bra’Kala had always known that the moment would arrive when those meddling Starfleet fools would learn about, or indeed, discover for themselves, the new Santragan cruisers being constructed over Santrag IV. The refractive shield technology developed to mask the subterfuge was the perfect cover, but not all covers were entirely water-tight. This one had leaked through other sources and through other, less loyal lips than his. Soon he would take great pleasure in tracking down just who had tipped Captain Llewellyn and Rear Admiral Blackmore off. Then the pleasure of killing that traitor would be just as rewarding.
As the whine of two transporter beams filled the ancient marble walls, Tret snapped his oily fingers. Before the materialization process could be completed, four Santragan guards had their weapons raised and loaded. A fifth guard tapped a small control pad, activating a sensory interference field that would seal the effectiveness of the plan. Everything flowed smoothly towards the conclusion. Their two Starfleet guests were surrounded by armed guards, cut off from their starship and starbase.
The expression of mistrust and apprehension on the Human faces was justified.
“What the hell is going on?,” Edward Blackmore barked.
“President Bra’Kala,” Ewan Llewellyn demanded,” what is the meaning of this?”
“Isn’t it obvious, Captain?,” the corrupt leader hissed with glee. “I just couldn’t let you remain in orbit, out of my reach, knowing what you know. Your theory about the illegal activity at the mining colony is correct. I feel much safer with you two officious annoyances where I can keep my eyes on you!”
As he wheezed towards them, Tret’s breathing sounded like steam venting from an old piston engine. The analogy suited their surroundings, Ewan thought as his combadge was snatched from his chest. Gas-powered torches lined the walls, casting an eerie flickering glow over the gathering. It was like traveling backward in time. He almost found himself wishing that it were so. At least then, there would be no repugnant Tret Bra’Kala to deal with.
“Listen to me, you bastard,” Blackmore growled as his combadge was also taken away. “You are the designated ruler of a Federation member world! You cannot go around kidnapping Starfleet officers! This act alone threatens to violate your member status, damn it!”
“But that’s the idea, Rear Admiral,” Bra’Kala chuckled.
“You’re leaving the Federation,” Ewan questioned,” and you’re doing it like this?”
“I’m doing it in a way that best suits my people! For too long, you’ve hung over this planet and looked down upon us with your lofty values and precious morality! At first, my people were confused. They thought that such a lifestyle was beneficial and that led to the revolution. Believe me when I tell you that my resulting leadership is the only positive aspect of that whole experience!”
Throwing the pair of combadges to the stone floor, Tret stamped on them with blatant relish. Ewan and Ed were watching a madman with control over their very lives. It sent chills down their spines in unison as if they were telepathically linked.
“And what of our Federation membership status?,” Bra’Kala continued, spewing his rhetoric as if he was practicing it for a larger event. “All that you’ve done is continually stick your self-righteous noses into our affairs! I know all about your unlawful away team, Captain, last year, during the storms. Your latest nefarious project too, the Human biosign that you placed in our capital city. No doubt here to spy on me…”
“Wait, Human biosign?,” Llewellyn protested. “I know nothing of this!”
“Please… Your objection seals your guilt!”
“If we’re guilty of anything,” Rear Admiral Blackmore snapped at Bra’Kala,” it is of caring too much about the Santragan people and being concerned when their President turns out to be a stuck-up son of a bitch!”
The satisfied smirk on Bra’Kala’s face disappeared.
“Your trial will determine that. Guards… take them away.”
EPILOGUE
“Human biosign,” Ewan thought aloud. “What is he talking about?”
“I have no idea,” Ed had to admit. “I’m sure that it’ll come out in this blasted show-trial.”
“You would tell me if you did know, right?”
“Of course, I would!,” the older man yelled, thumping the cold wall of the murky, dank cell that he and his best friend stood in. a single gas-powered torch provided scant illumination, casting long shadows that made every word and movement seem sinister and portentous. Feeling his uncontrolled action draw blood between his knuckles, he recoiled, seething at the discomfort. “For God’s sake, Ewan, we can’t be used in such a twisted game! Our faces cannot be on anti-Federation posters!”
“There’s always Plan B,” the Captain said, trying to comfort him.
“It’ll never work. It doesn’t guarantee our escape.”
Ewan succumbed to his own self-doubt, pushed that little extra distance by Ed’s vocal concerns. Plan D had been cobbled together in a hurry and it was laden with a serious risk of detection. It was the truth, he had to admit. It hardly guaranteed their escape. They simply weren’t expecting Tret Bra’Kala to act so ruthlessly and so quickly.
“What are you saying, Boxer?”
“I’m saying that we have to do whatever we can to stop their show-trial from taking place.”
Allowing his mind to be assaulted with possible answers, Llewellyn started staring at a wall, letting his eyes shut down. When he finally returned his focus to them, they were looking directly at the gas-powered torch as they were drawn to the flickering light. He dared to not point it out. Turning around, however, he saw that the Rear Admiral had settled down on the same conclusion. They dwelled in the foreboding, agonizing silence for what seemed like an eternity before.
Ed just nodded. “You have to,” he growled.
Not quite able to fully comprehend the brutal finality of his actions, Ewan flexed the mechanical gears within his left arm. Reaching out, his synthetic fingers wrapped themselves around the pipe leading into the base of the torch. It was rusty, degraded, and weathered with age. An easy thing to break. The natural and highly-toxic gas inside would do the job slowly, quietly, and painlessly.
The Welshman gave his commanding officer one final, regretful look. “It has been an honor to serve with you, sir.”
“Likewise, buddy… likewise…”
The End.
ORBING MASTER - I wouldn't kill off the boys like that. That would make me some kind of monster, wouldn't it?
@admiralelm11 my faith in you has been restored... 
Good old transporter - the ultimate deus ex-machina..
Thanks!! rbs
Appropriately Orwellian...
Thanks!! rbs
My next episode is the Series Finale. Then I'll be writing the 'movie' story that ends everything.
Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Five, Episode Thirteen - “Cancelled”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
Tired… So very… tired…
At least… At least, the gas is working…
Bra’Kala … won’t be… be able to use us… in his show-trial…
This way, the… Federation… will… save face…
This way… maybe the Santragan people … will… know the truth…
Boxer… How is… Boxer?
Got to… find… strength! I’m… not… ready yet!
Got to… check on… Boxer…
Boxer…
Oh… oh my…
He almost… looks… peaceful…
Last time… I saw him this… this peaceful was when… when he was in that… coma…
Poor guy… Noble… guy..
Very … noble...guy…
Won’t be… be… long now, mate…
I’ll… be… joining you… joining… you… soon…
Damn this… gas! What’s taking you so… long… to finish me?!
Why?
Why did… I breach… that… pipe?
Why did I… beam into… this blatant… blatant trap?
Why did…
Hold on a… minute…
Why… am I… seeing… blue?
ACT ONE
“Captain? Captain, can you hear me?”
Ewan Llewellyn found his gas-induced stupor to be lifting at a surprising rate. The headache that clouded his thoughts was dissipating, energy flowing back into his limbs, and light pouring back across his piercing eyes. A hypospray was lowered from his neck as he realized that the dark Santragan cell walls had been replaced by the familiar interior of the Shuttlecraft Bromley. The hallucinatory voice inside his head was gone with a very real tone now ringing in his ears.
Valerie!
“Ewan, oh please! Be all right!”
“I’m here,” his scratchy throat gasped. “I’m here!”
Suddenly, a pair of relieved arms wrapped around his shoulders. Despite the groggy feelings from his near-death experience, the Welshman was awake and aware enough to recognize the loving embrace of Commander Valerie Archer. Using what strength that he could muster, he returned the hug. He had been fully prepared to accept the sacrifice of his own life… but he was only Human and therefore, he was relieved as hell to be able to see his beloved once more. Upon parting, he took in more of his surroundings. The Bromley’s interior was bathed in warm sunlight. Plan B must have worked!
It was only then that he noticed Rear Admiral Blackmore’s lifeless body. Doctor Pulaski was hunched over it, working fast.
“Tell me he’s going to make it.” Ewan had to know, lurching forward.
The Chief Medical Officer turned towards him as she collapsed her tricorder. “He’s going to be fine,” she reported. “Probably a little bit tired but otherwise fine. The gas that you both inhaled was highly toxic. If you had been left in there any longer, I wouldn’t have been able to reverse the corrosion in your lungs. It’s lucky for you that I decided to tag along on this rescue mission.”
“What the hell happened down there, Ewan?,” Valerie asked him.
“Tret Bra’Kala,” the Captain snarled. “He had whipped up some gaudy show trial and he was planning on making Ed and I the star attractions. Veth was right. He’s planning to force Santrag II to leave the Federation. I guess he just wanted to put the boot in while doing it. We both decided that we couldn’t let him use us so…”
Valerie was torn. She wanted to cry for the bravery of her lover, and for the bravery of the Rear Admiral too. However, her other side wanted to slap Llewellyn clean across the face for attempting something so reckless and stupid. He knew that they would be trying to get Plan B into motion, and even if it hadn’t succeeded, that wasn’t any excuse to go committing suicide, was it? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was overjoyed to see both men alive and safely back aboard a Federation vessel.
“Doctor, stay here and tend to Ed,” Ewan ordered. “I need an update.”
He found his feet once more. The first few steps were akin to those of an infant. By the time that he reached the Bromley’s cockpit, however, with Valerie’s guiding hands as backup support, he was standing tall and back in captaincy mode. Seated before him, Sollik and Gabriel Brodie navigated the Type-11 shuttlecraft through the atmosphere of Santrag II, speeding away from the historical township behind them. Both Lieutenant Commanders turned and acknowledged their superior officers with polite nods.
“Status, gentlemen?,” asked the Welshman.
“Plan B took some tweaking,” Sollik had to admit to him. “Sensors were scrambled as soon as you beamed down. We had to come in low to find your biosigns. You were right about the refractive shields, sir. The Santragans failed to detect the Bromley. Their own stealth technology is equally as effective against their own sensors.”
“We’re just leaving the stratosphere,” Gabe added quickly.
“This is where we can relax, Captain. There’s less chance of being seen from the surface.”
Ewan was far from relaxed. Nothing fit anymore. Tret Bra’Kala and his wild accusations still echoed at the back of his mind. Well, admittedly, some weren’t so wild. There had always been an edge in the President’s voice when discussing that natural disaster and the relief efforts. This Human biosign, though… What was that all about? Was Bra’Kala grasping at straws, trying to boost the credibility of this anti-Federation tirade that he was on at the moment?
Screwing his face into a complex maze of frown lines, he could barely think anymore. Rage was overriding all logical and analytical processes. It was a powerful rage that he had struggled with before… and it was all directed at the unsightly features of President Tret Bra’Kala.
“Valerie,” he began to dictate, his voice low,” I want you to return to Fortitude. Start putting in the emergency evacuation procedures for Starbase 499. If those new Santragan cruisers make any aggressive moves, I want to be ready. As soon as the Rear Admiral wakes up, brief him and defer to his judgment.”
“And just where are you going?”
“Back to the surface,” Ewan replied, taking his First Officer’s combadge and transferring it to his own chest. “Don’t try to track me and don’t try to stop me. I’ll signal for emergency transport when I’m finished. I’ll see you then.”
Turning, he moved into the shuttle’s transporter. Along the way, he opened up a locker and pulled out a Type-III phaser rifle.
“Even if this wasn’t a violation of all kinds of rules,” Valerie started to object.
“I love you too,” he interrupted firmly, cutting her short.
“Why do you have to do this?”
“Unfinished business.” He loaded the rifle with a click. “Energize.”
Upon returning to the frozen black depths of space, the Shuttlecraft Bromley was faced with a dangerously spectacular sight. At the controls, the collective gasp of Sollik and Gabriel Brodie dragged the attention of Valerie Archer over to the window. She saw it in seconds, the sheer size of the operation hard to miss.
“Oh my God,” she breathed,” it’s starting…”
They were arranged in a particularly aggressive formation. All eight of them emerged from their hiding place over the Santrag IV mining colony, now clearly operational and flexing their technological muscles. Energy radiated from their powerful tri-winged structures, their tapered blue noses were like daggers… Eight shining daggers that were fervently hovering over a victim’s heart. In this case, that heart was Starbase 499. Today, faced with such a threat, it looked significantly smaller than before.
“I’m getting a message,” Gabe noted, reading it aloud. “It’s from Jason aboard Fortitude. He says that all Starfleet vessels have been ordered to begin evacuation procedures immediately by the order of President Tret Bra’Kala. He also mentions a forthcoming trial which will solidify the independence of Santrag II.”
“Like hell, it will,” Valerie said, complete witha satisfying smirk.
“The refractive shields are still holding, Commander,” Sollik reported.
“Keep us low and slow, guys… and take us home. We’ve got to start sorting this out.”
* * * *
Polished Starfleet-issue footwear was hardly designed for stealth, especially in marble corridors and up rough-hewn stone staircases. Each reverberating footstep made Ewan Llewellyn wince. Darting from cover to cover, his phaser rifle seemingly led the way through the historical township’s largest building as he desperately didn’t want his spur-of-the-moment mission being ended with some Santragan guard with good hearing skills simply shooting him in the back. His goal was too important, the unanswered questions too weighty as his desire for justice was too strong.
That desire leaped into action upon turning around a corridor and spotting two guards.
They pointed and opened their mouths to yell. Before a single word could escape either one of them, two powerful discharges from the phaser rifle ensured their silence. Watching them fall off their feet, Ewan felt nothing.
No remorse.
No regret.
Nothing.
It was only on stun but, even then, for a pacifist, he was being surprisingly cold about the whole thing. Lowering his weapon and moving on, he only made it a few more steps before something unexpected shattered his icy demeanor.
From nowhere, a set of arms wrapped tightly around his torso. He was being tackled! Ewan had no time to react. He slammed into the wall, hard. The phaser rifle clattered away, wrenched from his grip by the attack.
Wasting not a second more, the Captain grabbed his assailant by the throat and heaved him to a standing position. His spare hand balled up into a powerful fist, drawing back in preparation to deal a hefty blow to the bastard’s jaw. Upon seeing that very jaw and the fact that it belonged to, everything had changed. The aggression melted away, replaced by an equally dangerous spark of total and utter bemusement.
The Human biosign… Suddenly Ewan knew who had been sneaking around on Santrag II.
Yet it made absolutely no sense.
“But,” he stammered,” you’re… but you’re…”
“That’s right,” the attacker grinned a familiar lopsided grin. “I’m you!”
ACT TWO
It was like looking into the Galaxy’s most unflattering mirror.
Ewan Llewellyn was staring in disbelief at his attacker… at his own face. He could feel his own hands pushing him against the marble. He was struggling against his own strength. And yet, there were differences… vast differences between them.
This version of Ewan Llewellyn was older, more weathered, and more ravaged by time than the Captain could ever remember having been. Gray was creeping from his temples, threatening the rest of the matted black hair. Several nasty-looking scars adorned his neck and forehead while others were covered by disorderly stubble. The lack of a Starfleet uniform helped sell the image of a broken and desolate Ewan Llewellyn… Of an Ewan Llewellyn at the end of his tether.
“What the hell are you?!,” Ewan spat back in defiance of the image before him.
“As I said, I’m you,” the elder Llewellyn sneered back. “More precisely, I’m you, ten years from now. Ironically enough, I’m also running out of time so shut your mouth and come with me. There’s an empty chamber down here that we can use.”
“Use for what?,” Ewan protested, suddenly rather scared of his future self.
"You want answers, don’t you?”
“I’m not quite sure that I’m going to like them, am I?”
“Probably not, but you’re getting them all the same,” the elder Llewellyn determined, yanking at his younger version’s shoulder and pulling him towards a small room. Leading him inside with an unceremonious shove, he bolted the old wooden door just as the thundering footsteps of several Santragan guards rose from the silence. Allowing them to pass, the confused Ewan reeled from the abrupt twist in events. His older version turned on him in short order. “Besides, you’re probably wondering if I really am you or if I’m some kind of dodgy copy, right?”
“It had crossed my mind,” his counterpart had to admit to him.
There was only one blunt way to prove it. Both of them knew what it was.
“You’re here to kill President Tret Bra’Kala.”
“How did you know?”
“Because I’ve been here before. I beamed away from the Bromley, ten years ago, starting on the very same revenge mission that you’re on! I pulled that trigger. I killed that fast bastard… and I’m here to stop you from making the same mistake!”
* * * *
Crewmen hurried back and forth…
Systems were being purged and files being transferred…
She could barely watch it.
Feeling as though she was losing a part of herself, Station Master Erica Martinez couldn’t restrain her tears any longer. Watching the evacuation of Starbase 499 in full swing, standing at the center of the Station Master’s Office as it was stripped of character, of life, of its essence… It was crippling. It didn’t help matters that, every so often, somebody in passing would give her a sympathetic pat on the back or make some misjudged attempt to cheer her up. None of it worked. She was losing her home.
There was only one voice that made her turn away from the horror.
“Hey,” Gabriel Brodie called out to her.
“Oh, Gabe,” she cried, burying herself in his embrace,” I can’t… I just can’t…!”
“I know, I know… It won’t be long now, though. It’ll be over soon.”
“And then what?,” came the unwelcome question. The Fortitude tactical officer hadn’t thought that far ahead in his comforting visit. Erica was asking him something that was so loaded with variables. Was he supposed to offer her shared quarters, or even beyond that perhaps? What was he supposed to tell her? He had to give some kind of answer. He couldn’t bear to see his beautiful Latina girlfriend in such a state. Squeezing her even harder as she sobbed, he gently kissed her trembling forehead.
“Then we’ll survive,” he whispered to her. “We should be thankful for that much.”
* * * *
“You’re not going to stop me,” Ewan said.
“I’ve got no other choice,” the future version of the Captain barked back. “I sank all that I had left in coming here, strapping myself into some rickety old crate that barely made the slingshot velocity for the trip back in time… but all of the risks are worth it if it means preventing you from killing Tret Bra’Kala!”
“This is a direct breach of the Temporal Prime Directive!”
“I have no Prime Directive!”
“You swore a lifelong oath to uphold certain values!”
“Oh, like your planned assassination isn’t breaching those values too!”
Ewan couldn’t believe the conversation that he was having, the debate that he was undertaking… with himself! It was as though his morality had been given a separate body and was lecturing him. Unfortunately, in his current state of pent-up aggression, logic and reason was the last thing that the younger incarnation of the Welshman wanted to hear. He was on an adrenaline high, barrelling towards the hideous Tret Bra’Kala to make him pay for what he had done, what he had caused, and for what he had yet to cause. Coming within inches of the elder Llewellyn, Ewan lowered his tone to beyond sinister.
“Get out of my way,” he growled at him.
“You can’t see what’s happening to you,” his future self stated calmly. “Thanks to retrospect, I can, and believe me when I tell you that killing that Santragan bastard will be the biggest error of your life! Look at me for crying out loud! Don’t you want to know where my uniform has gone or why I’ve got all of these scars?”
“Your mistakes, not mine. My future isn’t written yet.”
“That’s bollocks and you know it. After I shot Bra’Kala and returned to Fortitude, things seemed to settle down for a while… but when the Santragans found their murdered president, he became a martyr. The separation of Santrag II from the Federation still happened but rather than quietly bowing to the demands of an arrogant prig, we stayed and fought. Hundreds died in the split, Captain. You… me… I became fuelled by my anger and my hatred of the situation, and what did it get me?”
“I don’t know. What did it get you?”
“Another lost starship… and too many lost friends to count,” was the somber reply.
That made the Ewan of the present freeze.
“Valerie?,” he asked slowly.
“Dead.”
“Boxer?”
“Gone, along with Jason, Jim, and Sollik. Kate Pulaski went back for them during the battle and was killed too. Fortitude was destroyed. If there’s one thing that I can make you believe, then let it be this. You will never, ever forgive yourself for the suffering that you cause and it all stems from this moment!”
The most tremendous migraine surged through Ewan’s skull. Deep inside, two halves of the same consciousness were at war. The logical analysis of his actions, so far beaten down into repression by his primal savagery, was reasserting itself. It was listening to the visitor from the future, listening to itself made wise by ten additional years… Ten years were spent in affliction and in eternal anguish. It wasn’t going to let the rage win, not in a mind that used to pride itself in pacifism, regardless of all of the emotional damage that it had taken. Naketha, Agent Hawkins, Charles Cooper, Tano Jmara, the End, the Borg, and the Shemosi had all done their best to expose the raw power of fury.
“Do you remember what you told Valerie?,” the potential Llewellyn asked him.
Ewan simply shook his head, letting him continue.
“You said, ‘the day I lament the chance to commit murder is the day that I stop being Human’. You said it right to her face. Are you going to break that promise to her? Are you going to lament turning away from this madness? Listen to me! You’ve got a beautiful woman who loves you and a superior officer who considers you to be the son that he never had… and you’re just going to throw it all away to slake your anger’s lust?”
Silence hung in the air, the tension almost palpable.
The older one grew impatient.
“Well, the decision isn’t yours to make anymore,” he finally snapped at him, reaching out and punching the combadge resting on his counterpart’s chest. It was his last resort, the final base that he had covered after giving everything to this desperate attempt to save the past… and save himself. “Fortitude, this is Captain Llewellyn. One to beam up!”
Ewan couldn’t have stopped him, even if he wanted to. The transporter beam enveloped his mournful gaze in seconds.
With history altered, the future Ewan Llewellyn simply faded away from the timeline.
Season Five, Episode Thirteen - “Cancelled”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
Tired… So very… tired…
At least… At least, the gas is working…
Bra’Kala … won’t be… be able to use us… in his show-trial…
This way, the… Federation… will… save face…
This way… maybe the Santragan people … will… know the truth…
Boxer… How is… Boxer?
Got to… find… strength! I’m… not… ready yet!
Got to… check on… Boxer…
Boxer…
Oh… oh my…
He almost… looks… peaceful…
Last time… I saw him this… this peaceful was when… when he was in that… coma…
Poor guy… Noble… guy..
Very … noble...guy…
Won’t be… be… long now, mate…
I’ll… be… joining you… joining… you… soon…
Damn this… gas! What’s taking you so… long… to finish me?!
Why?
Why did… I breach… that… pipe?
Why did I… beam into… this blatant… blatant trap?
Why did…
Hold on a… minute…
Why… am I… seeing… blue?
ACT ONE
“Captain? Captain, can you hear me?”
Ewan Llewellyn found his gas-induced stupor to be lifting at a surprising rate. The headache that clouded his thoughts was dissipating, energy flowing back into his limbs, and light pouring back across his piercing eyes. A hypospray was lowered from his neck as he realized that the dark Santragan cell walls had been replaced by the familiar interior of the Shuttlecraft Bromley. The hallucinatory voice inside his head was gone with a very real tone now ringing in his ears.
Valerie!
“Ewan, oh please! Be all right!”
“I’m here,” his scratchy throat gasped. “I’m here!”
Suddenly, a pair of relieved arms wrapped around his shoulders. Despite the groggy feelings from his near-death experience, the Welshman was awake and aware enough to recognize the loving embrace of Commander Valerie Archer. Using what strength that he could muster, he returned the hug. He had been fully prepared to accept the sacrifice of his own life… but he was only Human and therefore, he was relieved as hell to be able to see his beloved once more. Upon parting, he took in more of his surroundings. The Bromley’s interior was bathed in warm sunlight. Plan B must have worked!
It was only then that he noticed Rear Admiral Blackmore’s lifeless body. Doctor Pulaski was hunched over it, working fast.
“Tell me he’s going to make it.” Ewan had to know, lurching forward.
The Chief Medical Officer turned towards him as she collapsed her tricorder. “He’s going to be fine,” she reported. “Probably a little bit tired but otherwise fine. The gas that you both inhaled was highly toxic. If you had been left in there any longer, I wouldn’t have been able to reverse the corrosion in your lungs. It’s lucky for you that I decided to tag along on this rescue mission.”
“What the hell happened down there, Ewan?,” Valerie asked him.
“Tret Bra’Kala,” the Captain snarled. “He had whipped up some gaudy show trial and he was planning on making Ed and I the star attractions. Veth was right. He’s planning to force Santrag II to leave the Federation. I guess he just wanted to put the boot in while doing it. We both decided that we couldn’t let him use us so…”
Valerie was torn. She wanted to cry for the bravery of her lover, and for the bravery of the Rear Admiral too. However, her other side wanted to slap Llewellyn clean across the face for attempting something so reckless and stupid. He knew that they would be trying to get Plan B into motion, and even if it hadn’t succeeded, that wasn’t any excuse to go committing suicide, was it? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was overjoyed to see both men alive and safely back aboard a Federation vessel.
“Doctor, stay here and tend to Ed,” Ewan ordered. “I need an update.”
He found his feet once more. The first few steps were akin to those of an infant. By the time that he reached the Bromley’s cockpit, however, with Valerie’s guiding hands as backup support, he was standing tall and back in captaincy mode. Seated before him, Sollik and Gabriel Brodie navigated the Type-11 shuttlecraft through the atmosphere of Santrag II, speeding away from the historical township behind them. Both Lieutenant Commanders turned and acknowledged their superior officers with polite nods.
“Status, gentlemen?,” asked the Welshman.
“Plan B took some tweaking,” Sollik had to admit to him. “Sensors were scrambled as soon as you beamed down. We had to come in low to find your biosigns. You were right about the refractive shields, sir. The Santragans failed to detect the Bromley. Their own stealth technology is equally as effective against their own sensors.”
“We’re just leaving the stratosphere,” Gabe added quickly.
“This is where we can relax, Captain. There’s less chance of being seen from the surface.”
Ewan was far from relaxed. Nothing fit anymore. Tret Bra’Kala and his wild accusations still echoed at the back of his mind. Well, admittedly, some weren’t so wild. There had always been an edge in the President’s voice when discussing that natural disaster and the relief efforts. This Human biosign, though… What was that all about? Was Bra’Kala grasping at straws, trying to boost the credibility of this anti-Federation tirade that he was on at the moment?
Screwing his face into a complex maze of frown lines, he could barely think anymore. Rage was overriding all logical and analytical processes. It was a powerful rage that he had struggled with before… and it was all directed at the unsightly features of President Tret Bra’Kala.
“Valerie,” he began to dictate, his voice low,” I want you to return to Fortitude. Start putting in the emergency evacuation procedures for Starbase 499. If those new Santragan cruisers make any aggressive moves, I want to be ready. As soon as the Rear Admiral wakes up, brief him and defer to his judgment.”
“And just where are you going?”
“Back to the surface,” Ewan replied, taking his First Officer’s combadge and transferring it to his own chest. “Don’t try to track me and don’t try to stop me. I’ll signal for emergency transport when I’m finished. I’ll see you then.”
Turning, he moved into the shuttle’s transporter. Along the way, he opened up a locker and pulled out a Type-III phaser rifle.
“Even if this wasn’t a violation of all kinds of rules,” Valerie started to object.
“I love you too,” he interrupted firmly, cutting her short.
“Why do you have to do this?”
“Unfinished business.” He loaded the rifle with a click. “Energize.”
Upon returning to the frozen black depths of space, the Shuttlecraft Bromley was faced with a dangerously spectacular sight. At the controls, the collective gasp of Sollik and Gabriel Brodie dragged the attention of Valerie Archer over to the window. She saw it in seconds, the sheer size of the operation hard to miss.
“Oh my God,” she breathed,” it’s starting…”
They were arranged in a particularly aggressive formation. All eight of them emerged from their hiding place over the Santrag IV mining colony, now clearly operational and flexing their technological muscles. Energy radiated from their powerful tri-winged structures, their tapered blue noses were like daggers… Eight shining daggers that were fervently hovering over a victim’s heart. In this case, that heart was Starbase 499. Today, faced with such a threat, it looked significantly smaller than before.
“I’m getting a message,” Gabe noted, reading it aloud. “It’s from Jason aboard Fortitude. He says that all Starfleet vessels have been ordered to begin evacuation procedures immediately by the order of President Tret Bra’Kala. He also mentions a forthcoming trial which will solidify the independence of Santrag II.”
“Like hell, it will,” Valerie said, complete witha satisfying smirk.
“The refractive shields are still holding, Commander,” Sollik reported.
“Keep us low and slow, guys… and take us home. We’ve got to start sorting this out.”
* * * *
Polished Starfleet-issue footwear was hardly designed for stealth, especially in marble corridors and up rough-hewn stone staircases. Each reverberating footstep made Ewan Llewellyn wince. Darting from cover to cover, his phaser rifle seemingly led the way through the historical township’s largest building as he desperately didn’t want his spur-of-the-moment mission being ended with some Santragan guard with good hearing skills simply shooting him in the back. His goal was too important, the unanswered questions too weighty as his desire for justice was too strong.
That desire leaped into action upon turning around a corridor and spotting two guards.
They pointed and opened their mouths to yell. Before a single word could escape either one of them, two powerful discharges from the phaser rifle ensured their silence. Watching them fall off their feet, Ewan felt nothing.
No remorse.
No regret.
Nothing.
It was only on stun but, even then, for a pacifist, he was being surprisingly cold about the whole thing. Lowering his weapon and moving on, he only made it a few more steps before something unexpected shattered his icy demeanor.
From nowhere, a set of arms wrapped tightly around his torso. He was being tackled! Ewan had no time to react. He slammed into the wall, hard. The phaser rifle clattered away, wrenched from his grip by the attack.
Wasting not a second more, the Captain grabbed his assailant by the throat and heaved him to a standing position. His spare hand balled up into a powerful fist, drawing back in preparation to deal a hefty blow to the bastard’s jaw. Upon seeing that very jaw and the fact that it belonged to, everything had changed. The aggression melted away, replaced by an equally dangerous spark of total and utter bemusement.
The Human biosign… Suddenly Ewan knew who had been sneaking around on Santrag II.
Yet it made absolutely no sense.
“But,” he stammered,” you’re… but you’re…”
“That’s right,” the attacker grinned a familiar lopsided grin. “I’m you!”
ACT TWO
It was like looking into the Galaxy’s most unflattering mirror.
Ewan Llewellyn was staring in disbelief at his attacker… at his own face. He could feel his own hands pushing him against the marble. He was struggling against his own strength. And yet, there were differences… vast differences between them.
This version of Ewan Llewellyn was older, more weathered, and more ravaged by time than the Captain could ever remember having been. Gray was creeping from his temples, threatening the rest of the matted black hair. Several nasty-looking scars adorned his neck and forehead while others were covered by disorderly stubble. The lack of a Starfleet uniform helped sell the image of a broken and desolate Ewan Llewellyn… Of an Ewan Llewellyn at the end of his tether.
“What the hell are you?!,” Ewan spat back in defiance of the image before him.
“As I said, I’m you,” the elder Llewellyn sneered back. “More precisely, I’m you, ten years from now. Ironically enough, I’m also running out of time so shut your mouth and come with me. There’s an empty chamber down here that we can use.”
“Use for what?,” Ewan protested, suddenly rather scared of his future self.
"You want answers, don’t you?”
“I’m not quite sure that I’m going to like them, am I?”
“Probably not, but you’re getting them all the same,” the elder Llewellyn determined, yanking at his younger version’s shoulder and pulling him towards a small room. Leading him inside with an unceremonious shove, he bolted the old wooden door just as the thundering footsteps of several Santragan guards rose from the silence. Allowing them to pass, the confused Ewan reeled from the abrupt twist in events. His older version turned on him in short order. “Besides, you’re probably wondering if I really am you or if I’m some kind of dodgy copy, right?”
“It had crossed my mind,” his counterpart had to admit to him.
There was only one blunt way to prove it. Both of them knew what it was.
“You’re here to kill President Tret Bra’Kala.”
“How did you know?”
“Because I’ve been here before. I beamed away from the Bromley, ten years ago, starting on the very same revenge mission that you’re on! I pulled that trigger. I killed that fast bastard… and I’m here to stop you from making the same mistake!”
* * * *
Crewmen hurried back and forth…
Systems were being purged and files being transferred…
She could barely watch it.
Feeling as though she was losing a part of herself, Station Master Erica Martinez couldn’t restrain her tears any longer. Watching the evacuation of Starbase 499 in full swing, standing at the center of the Station Master’s Office as it was stripped of character, of life, of its essence… It was crippling. It didn’t help matters that, every so often, somebody in passing would give her a sympathetic pat on the back or make some misjudged attempt to cheer her up. None of it worked. She was losing her home.
There was only one voice that made her turn away from the horror.
“Hey,” Gabriel Brodie called out to her.
“Oh, Gabe,” she cried, burying herself in his embrace,” I can’t… I just can’t…!”
“I know, I know… It won’t be long now, though. It’ll be over soon.”
“And then what?,” came the unwelcome question. The Fortitude tactical officer hadn’t thought that far ahead in his comforting visit. Erica was asking him something that was so loaded with variables. Was he supposed to offer her shared quarters, or even beyond that perhaps? What was he supposed to tell her? He had to give some kind of answer. He couldn’t bear to see his beautiful Latina girlfriend in such a state. Squeezing her even harder as she sobbed, he gently kissed her trembling forehead.
“Then we’ll survive,” he whispered to her. “We should be thankful for that much.”
* * * *
“You’re not going to stop me,” Ewan said.
“I’ve got no other choice,” the future version of the Captain barked back. “I sank all that I had left in coming here, strapping myself into some rickety old crate that barely made the slingshot velocity for the trip back in time… but all of the risks are worth it if it means preventing you from killing Tret Bra’Kala!”
“This is a direct breach of the Temporal Prime Directive!”
“I have no Prime Directive!”
“You swore a lifelong oath to uphold certain values!”
“Oh, like your planned assassination isn’t breaching those values too!”
Ewan couldn’t believe the conversation that he was having, the debate that he was undertaking… with himself! It was as though his morality had been given a separate body and was lecturing him. Unfortunately, in his current state of pent-up aggression, logic and reason was the last thing that the younger incarnation of the Welshman wanted to hear. He was on an adrenaline high, barrelling towards the hideous Tret Bra’Kala to make him pay for what he had done, what he had caused, and for what he had yet to cause. Coming within inches of the elder Llewellyn, Ewan lowered his tone to beyond sinister.
“Get out of my way,” he growled at him.
“You can’t see what’s happening to you,” his future self stated calmly. “Thanks to retrospect, I can, and believe me when I tell you that killing that Santragan bastard will be the biggest error of your life! Look at me for crying out loud! Don’t you want to know where my uniform has gone or why I’ve got all of these scars?”
“Your mistakes, not mine. My future isn’t written yet.”
“That’s bollocks and you know it. After I shot Bra’Kala and returned to Fortitude, things seemed to settle down for a while… but when the Santragans found their murdered president, he became a martyr. The separation of Santrag II from the Federation still happened but rather than quietly bowing to the demands of an arrogant prig, we stayed and fought. Hundreds died in the split, Captain. You… me… I became fuelled by my anger and my hatred of the situation, and what did it get me?”
“I don’t know. What did it get you?”
“Another lost starship… and too many lost friends to count,” was the somber reply.
That made the Ewan of the present freeze.
“Valerie?,” he asked slowly.
“Dead.”
“Boxer?”
“Gone, along with Jason, Jim, and Sollik. Kate Pulaski went back for them during the battle and was killed too. Fortitude was destroyed. If there’s one thing that I can make you believe, then let it be this. You will never, ever forgive yourself for the suffering that you cause and it all stems from this moment!”
The most tremendous migraine surged through Ewan’s skull. Deep inside, two halves of the same consciousness were at war. The logical analysis of his actions, so far beaten down into repression by his primal savagery, was reasserting itself. It was listening to the visitor from the future, listening to itself made wise by ten additional years… Ten years were spent in affliction and in eternal anguish. It wasn’t going to let the rage win, not in a mind that used to pride itself in pacifism, regardless of all of the emotional damage that it had taken. Naketha, Agent Hawkins, Charles Cooper, Tano Jmara, the End, the Borg, and the Shemosi had all done their best to expose the raw power of fury.
“Do you remember what you told Valerie?,” the potential Llewellyn asked him.
Ewan simply shook his head, letting him continue.
“You said, ‘the day I lament the chance to commit murder is the day that I stop being Human’. You said it right to her face. Are you going to break that promise to her? Are you going to lament turning away from this madness? Listen to me! You’ve got a beautiful woman who loves you and a superior officer who considers you to be the son that he never had… and you’re just going to throw it all away to slake your anger’s lust?”
Silence hung in the air, the tension almost palpable.
The older one grew impatient.
“Well, the decision isn’t yours to make anymore,” he finally snapped at him, reaching out and punching the combadge resting on his counterpart’s chest. It was his last resort, the final base that he had covered after giving everything to this desperate attempt to save the past… and save himself. “Fortitude, this is Captain Llewellyn. One to beam up!”
Ewan couldn’t have stopped him, even if he wanted to. The transporter beam enveloped his mournful gaze in seconds.
With history altered, the future Ewan Llewellyn simply faded away from the timeline.
ACT THREE
Captain’s Personal Log, Stardate 53777.4;
The return to Fortitude and my crew has had a calming effect on my mood. While a lesser man would be tempted to place blame on the noxious content of the gas that I inhaled or perhaps even to try to plead temporary insanity, the jolt of having a future version of myself appear and deliver a sermon on a few personal home truths had forced me to accept that I was simply, inexcusably, in error. My attempts to atone for my actions, however, have been slapped down by Rear Admiral Blackmore. His advice is to forget the whole thing. It won’t be easy advice to follow, but he’s my best friend and so I’ll have to try. Besides, there are more important things to address.
“How are they, Doctor?”
The concern in Veth Ka’Gerran’s tone was formidable. Rushing to catch up with Katherine Pulaski in the crowded corridor aboard Fortitude, the exiled Santragan was desperate to know anything beyond the snippets of information that he had been able to find out since the return of the Bromley. Upon hearing about the capture of his two friends, he had become wracked with guilt. Getting the full score was his only preoccupation.
With her voice deliberately low, thanks to the multitude of civilian and Starfleet personnel bustling through the cramped interior of the Norway-class starship, Pulaski quickly brought Veth up to speed on all that she knew. It included a rather tall tale about Captain Llewellyn meeting a future version of himself. A tale that Ka’Gerran instantly had difficulty swallowing, but then many recent events had required a slight leap beyond the usual levels of comprehension, hadn’t they? Passing by a window, he noted the continued presence of the eight Santragan cruisers keeping their threatening vigil over the evacuation of Starbase 499 and the impending withdrawal of the Federation.
He snorted with deliberate insolence.
“I would have loved to have seen the look on Tret’s face when he realized that he had lost them!”
“From what I’m told,” Pulaski corrected him,” the future version of the Captain was incredibly passionate about his plan. I doubt that he would have left anything to chance, especially with the possible repercussions of an obvious prison break. I doubt that Bra’Kala is even aware of their safe return to us. I think that’s for the best.”
“Gah… a shame…”
“So what will you do with yourself now?,” Pulaski asked him.
Before he could answer, a piercing whistle cut through the crowds. It came from a nearby turbolift, the door being held open by Rear Admiral Blackmore. He beckoned the pair over to him. They had somewhere to be, after all. In passing by her superior officer, Kate was given a reminder of the excellent hearing that he still possessed in spite of his age.
“Veth’s coming home with us,” he told the Chief Medical Officer.
The former Prime Minister gushed with his appreciation. “Despite this mess, the arms of the Federation are still open, it would seem.”
“For you, my friend,” Blackmore grinned,” they’ll always be open!”
* * * *
At another turbolift door, Ensign Jason Armstrong pressed the summons button and kept himself close to the bulkhead, thankful to be away from the main flow of Starbase 499 evacuees. Several steps behind him, the mass of bodies was simply too great to ensure that he remained beside his boyfriend, James Morgan, who was trying to catch up. Technically, he should have been in civilian clothing with his inactivity as a Starfleet officer being far too long and his permanent record still listing his status as Missing in Action. However, today, the rules were bent in his favor. A brand-new uniform hugged his muscles, complete with a glistening single rank pip. Today, he was an Ensign again.
Jim turned around as a green-scaled hand landed on his shoulder.
“You’re looking well, Ensign,” Lieutenant Commander Sollik hissed at him.
“Thank you, sir,” Jim accepted with a smile.
“Are you heading up to the Bridge?”
It was a pointless question. Where else would the senior staff be heading right now?
“Jason and I are, yes,” he replied nevertheless, nodding towards his partner. “It would appear that he’s got a turbolift too if you fancy joining us?”
“Thank you,” the Suliban chief engineer said, bowing his head. “Before we proceed, though, I was wondering if I could have a moment. You see, during your absence, I faced several revelations. I don’t wish to overinflate them with such grandiose terms, but suffice to say, I owe you an apology. It’s an apology that I never thought that I would get to give.”
“Say no more, sir,” Jim waved away. “Jason told me everything.”
“Everything?”
“Your genetic abilities, the letter, the apology that you gave him… everything, yes.”
Sollik’s yellow eyes met Jim’s dark stare. It was a stare filled with an understanding that went above and beyond what the chief engineer thought that he deserved. In particular, Jim had been the target of his prejudice in those first two years. There was no way that it was simply that easy to flick a switch and forgive it all, was it? He didn't know if it was or not. All that he knew was that Humans had an amazing capacity for emotional generosity and this Human, in particular, should have his thanks.
The handshake was awkward, not a Suliban custom, but it was welcomed all the same.
“Now,” Jim grinned,” to the Bridge?”
“To the Bridge…”
* * * *
“Our mission in this corner of the Galaxy has been cancelled.”
They were words that Captain Ewan Llewellyn had never wanted to say. They were words that nobody listening had ever wanted to hear. Defying the collective sentiment and resisting the small tear building in his eye, the Welshman pressed on with the final speech that he would ever give in the Santrag system.
Every single station of the Bridge of the USS Fortitude, NCC-76240-A was manned by a member of the senior staff. Along the back wall, framed by the pulsing master systems display, Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Veth Ka’Gerran, Doctor Katherine Pulaski, and Station Master Erica Martinez. While the Bridge had no places for them, they were no less welcome than anybody else. There was additional compassion directed towards Erica, of course. It was her starbase being lost and being honored in this ceremony.
“I have here,” Ewan presented, holding a PADD aloft,” an emergency communique from Admiral Owen Paris at Starfleet Command. It reads that we are to comply with President Tret Bra’Kala and withdraw from the Santrag system. It is with great regret that, for this moment on, I can officially announce that Santrag II is no longer a member of the United Federation of Planets.”
The viewscreen blinked into life. It showed a small convoy of starships moving away, back towards the deeper heart of Federation territory. The USS Steamrunner, NX-52126 led the way, followed closely by the USS Katherine Johnson, NCC-1224. Both of them were fully laden, just like the Fortitude, with equipment and personnel from Starbase 499. Behind them soared a collection of non-Starfleet ships of allies, trading craft, and those who stayed to lend a hand. Together, distorting subspace in a single bright flash, they all jumped to warp. That only left Fortitude herself.
The viewscreen switched to an angle that pointed astern. Starbase 499 hung behind the two radiant nacelles. She was lifeless, empty, and a shell with nobody to protect. No light came from her windows. No energy flowed through her circuits.
With delicacy at the helm, Commander Valerie Archer turned slowly away. The new angle showed, for a brief moment, the eight Santragan cruisers that had helped tow Starbase 499 the safe distance away from their homeworld. It had been their last joint venture. Now they were flying back, their sharp noses in retreat, as though they were snubbing the last remaining Starfleet ship and the vacant space station she grieved.
“The five years spent alongside Starbase 499,” Ewan closed,” have been filled with honor and courage. The men, women, and transgendered species who have shared in our adventures, our misfortunes, and our exploration are among the bravest and the best that Starfleet has to offer. You should all, all of you, be deeply proud of yourselves. Structures can be replaced. Crew members cannot. While our ships may have been named Fortitude in order to explore strange, new worlds, they have also helped us make the most important discoveries of our lives… the discoveries within ourselves.”
The Captain moved, looking over his command chair. “Station Master Martinez,” he asked,” would you do the honors?”
Nodding weakly, the Latina woman moved over to tactical. Feeling Gabriel Brodie wrap a comforting arm around her waist, she leaned over and entered the commands that everybody was waiting for. With the aft torpedo tube loaded and target locked, she shared one final glance with the Welshman in charge of the ceremony.
He replied with an order. “Fire.”
Of course, the torpedo wasn’t enough to do the whole job. It was merely symbolic, striking the hull of Starbase 499 as a trigger. Hundreds of antimatter storage pods across the superstructure were detonated in concert, uniting in a Goliath-sized fireball that served to decimate every last tiny fragment of debris. The Bridge became awash with the blaze, but nobody dared flinch to protect their eyes. They had to watch. They had to say goodbye. They had to remember.
Only when nothing remained did Fortitude leave at maximum warp.
The crew was heading back to Earth with their heads held high.
EPILOGUE
The view from his quarters was spectacular.
They were passing by a stellar nursery. Even faster-than-light, the phenomenon was visible for a good hour so all-encompassing was its scope. Losing himself in the swirling colors and twinkling new stars, Ewan felt his old lopsided grin return. It was rebelling against his mood. The departure ceremony had been rough and the following night’s sleep was uncomfortable for many… but waking early and seeing this sight… Somehow it had brought the grin back.
He heard the padding of bare feet behind him.
Valerie Archer’s arms wrapped themselves around his heaving chest.
Feeling her warm breath on his neck broadened his smile. It always had, and he suspected that it always would. He closed his eyes to better indulge at the moment. It was one of the things that he enjoyed knowing about what was to come, the same, pleasing moments that everybody hoped and wished for. Beyond those moments, he didn’t want to know. Such knowledge would destroy anticipation, excitement, and that wonderful feeling of potential that came with each new morning. It had come this morning too, for the first time in a long time and he didn’t want to lose it.
Besides, Ewan had seen one of his futures… and it had terrified him. Now that future was gone, replaced by a blank slate that he swore never to tarnish. He owed it to Valerie, to Boxer too, but above all, he owed it to himself.
“What are you thinking about?,” she asked softly in his ear.
“Tomorrow,” he simply replied.
The End.
And with that, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of the Star Trek: Fortitude series.
Next will be a novella to completely finish it all.
Captain’s Personal Log, Stardate 53777.4;
The return to Fortitude and my crew has had a calming effect on my mood. While a lesser man would be tempted to place blame on the noxious content of the gas that I inhaled or perhaps even to try to plead temporary insanity, the jolt of having a future version of myself appear and deliver a sermon on a few personal home truths had forced me to accept that I was simply, inexcusably, in error. My attempts to atone for my actions, however, have been slapped down by Rear Admiral Blackmore. His advice is to forget the whole thing. It won’t be easy advice to follow, but he’s my best friend and so I’ll have to try. Besides, there are more important things to address.
“How are they, Doctor?”
The concern in Veth Ka’Gerran’s tone was formidable. Rushing to catch up with Katherine Pulaski in the crowded corridor aboard Fortitude, the exiled Santragan was desperate to know anything beyond the snippets of information that he had been able to find out since the return of the Bromley. Upon hearing about the capture of his two friends, he had become wracked with guilt. Getting the full score was his only preoccupation.
With her voice deliberately low, thanks to the multitude of civilian and Starfleet personnel bustling through the cramped interior of the Norway-class starship, Pulaski quickly brought Veth up to speed on all that she knew. It included a rather tall tale about Captain Llewellyn meeting a future version of himself. A tale that Ka’Gerran instantly had difficulty swallowing, but then many recent events had required a slight leap beyond the usual levels of comprehension, hadn’t they? Passing by a window, he noted the continued presence of the eight Santragan cruisers keeping their threatening vigil over the evacuation of Starbase 499 and the impending withdrawal of the Federation.
He snorted with deliberate insolence.
“I would have loved to have seen the look on Tret’s face when he realized that he had lost them!”
“From what I’m told,” Pulaski corrected him,” the future version of the Captain was incredibly passionate about his plan. I doubt that he would have left anything to chance, especially with the possible repercussions of an obvious prison break. I doubt that Bra’Kala is even aware of their safe return to us. I think that’s for the best.”
“Gah… a shame…”
“So what will you do with yourself now?,” Pulaski asked him.
Before he could answer, a piercing whistle cut through the crowds. It came from a nearby turbolift, the door being held open by Rear Admiral Blackmore. He beckoned the pair over to him. They had somewhere to be, after all. In passing by her superior officer, Kate was given a reminder of the excellent hearing that he still possessed in spite of his age.
“Veth’s coming home with us,” he told the Chief Medical Officer.
The former Prime Minister gushed with his appreciation. “Despite this mess, the arms of the Federation are still open, it would seem.”
“For you, my friend,” Blackmore grinned,” they’ll always be open!”
* * * *
At another turbolift door, Ensign Jason Armstrong pressed the summons button and kept himself close to the bulkhead, thankful to be away from the main flow of Starbase 499 evacuees. Several steps behind him, the mass of bodies was simply too great to ensure that he remained beside his boyfriend, James Morgan, who was trying to catch up. Technically, he should have been in civilian clothing with his inactivity as a Starfleet officer being far too long and his permanent record still listing his status as Missing in Action. However, today, the rules were bent in his favor. A brand-new uniform hugged his muscles, complete with a glistening single rank pip. Today, he was an Ensign again.
Jim turned around as a green-scaled hand landed on his shoulder.
“You’re looking well, Ensign,” Lieutenant Commander Sollik hissed at him.
“Thank you, sir,” Jim accepted with a smile.
“Are you heading up to the Bridge?”
It was a pointless question. Where else would the senior staff be heading right now?
“Jason and I are, yes,” he replied nevertheless, nodding towards his partner. “It would appear that he’s got a turbolift too if you fancy joining us?”
“Thank you,” the Suliban chief engineer said, bowing his head. “Before we proceed, though, I was wondering if I could have a moment. You see, during your absence, I faced several revelations. I don’t wish to overinflate them with such grandiose terms, but suffice to say, I owe you an apology. It’s an apology that I never thought that I would get to give.”
“Say no more, sir,” Jim waved away. “Jason told me everything.”
“Everything?”
“Your genetic abilities, the letter, the apology that you gave him… everything, yes.”
Sollik’s yellow eyes met Jim’s dark stare. It was a stare filled with an understanding that went above and beyond what the chief engineer thought that he deserved. In particular, Jim had been the target of his prejudice in those first two years. There was no way that it was simply that easy to flick a switch and forgive it all, was it? He didn't know if it was or not. All that he knew was that Humans had an amazing capacity for emotional generosity and this Human, in particular, should have his thanks.
The handshake was awkward, not a Suliban custom, but it was welcomed all the same.
“Now,” Jim grinned,” to the Bridge?”
“To the Bridge…”
* * * *
“Our mission in this corner of the Galaxy has been cancelled.”
They were words that Captain Ewan Llewellyn had never wanted to say. They were words that nobody listening had ever wanted to hear. Defying the collective sentiment and resisting the small tear building in his eye, the Welshman pressed on with the final speech that he would ever give in the Santrag system.
Every single station of the Bridge of the USS Fortitude, NCC-76240-A was manned by a member of the senior staff. Along the back wall, framed by the pulsing master systems display, Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Veth Ka’Gerran, Doctor Katherine Pulaski, and Station Master Erica Martinez. While the Bridge had no places for them, they were no less welcome than anybody else. There was additional compassion directed towards Erica, of course. It was her starbase being lost and being honored in this ceremony.
“I have here,” Ewan presented, holding a PADD aloft,” an emergency communique from Admiral Owen Paris at Starfleet Command. It reads that we are to comply with President Tret Bra’Kala and withdraw from the Santrag system. It is with great regret that, for this moment on, I can officially announce that Santrag II is no longer a member of the United Federation of Planets.”
The viewscreen blinked into life. It showed a small convoy of starships moving away, back towards the deeper heart of Federation territory. The USS Steamrunner, NX-52126 led the way, followed closely by the USS Katherine Johnson, NCC-1224. Both of them were fully laden, just like the Fortitude, with equipment and personnel from Starbase 499. Behind them soared a collection of non-Starfleet ships of allies, trading craft, and those who stayed to lend a hand. Together, distorting subspace in a single bright flash, they all jumped to warp. That only left Fortitude herself.
The viewscreen switched to an angle that pointed astern. Starbase 499 hung behind the two radiant nacelles. She was lifeless, empty, and a shell with nobody to protect. No light came from her windows. No energy flowed through her circuits.
With delicacy at the helm, Commander Valerie Archer turned slowly away. The new angle showed, for a brief moment, the eight Santragan cruisers that had helped tow Starbase 499 the safe distance away from their homeworld. It had been their last joint venture. Now they were flying back, their sharp noses in retreat, as though they were snubbing the last remaining Starfleet ship and the vacant space station she grieved.
“The five years spent alongside Starbase 499,” Ewan closed,” have been filled with honor and courage. The men, women, and transgendered species who have shared in our adventures, our misfortunes, and our exploration are among the bravest and the best that Starfleet has to offer. You should all, all of you, be deeply proud of yourselves. Structures can be replaced. Crew members cannot. While our ships may have been named Fortitude in order to explore strange, new worlds, they have also helped us make the most important discoveries of our lives… the discoveries within ourselves.”
The Captain moved, looking over his command chair. “Station Master Martinez,” he asked,” would you do the honors?”
Nodding weakly, the Latina woman moved over to tactical. Feeling Gabriel Brodie wrap a comforting arm around her waist, she leaned over and entered the commands that everybody was waiting for. With the aft torpedo tube loaded and target locked, she shared one final glance with the Welshman in charge of the ceremony.
He replied with an order. “Fire.”
Of course, the torpedo wasn’t enough to do the whole job. It was merely symbolic, striking the hull of Starbase 499 as a trigger. Hundreds of antimatter storage pods across the superstructure were detonated in concert, uniting in a Goliath-sized fireball that served to decimate every last tiny fragment of debris. The Bridge became awash with the blaze, but nobody dared flinch to protect their eyes. They had to watch. They had to say goodbye. They had to remember.
Only when nothing remained did Fortitude leave at maximum warp.
The crew was heading back to Earth with their heads held high.
EPILOGUE
The view from his quarters was spectacular.
They were passing by a stellar nursery. Even faster-than-light, the phenomenon was visible for a good hour so all-encompassing was its scope. Losing himself in the swirling colors and twinkling new stars, Ewan felt his old lopsided grin return. It was rebelling against his mood. The departure ceremony had been rough and the following night’s sleep was uncomfortable for many… but waking early and seeing this sight… Somehow it had brought the grin back.
He heard the padding of bare feet behind him.
Valerie Archer’s arms wrapped themselves around his heaving chest.
Feeling her warm breath on his neck broadened his smile. It always had, and he suspected that it always would. He closed his eyes to better indulge at the moment. It was one of the things that he enjoyed knowing about what was to come, the same, pleasing moments that everybody hoped and wished for. Beyond those moments, he didn’t want to know. Such knowledge would destroy anticipation, excitement, and that wonderful feeling of potential that came with each new morning. It had come this morning too, for the first time in a long time and he didn’t want to lose it.
Besides, Ewan had seen one of his futures… and it had terrified him. Now that future was gone, replaced by a blank slate that he swore never to tarnish. He owed it to Valerie, to Boxer too, but above all, he owed it to himself.
“What are you thinking about?,” she asked softly in his ear.
“Tomorrow,” he simply replied.
The End.
And with that, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of the Star Trek: Fortitude series.
Next will be a novella to completely finish it all.
The ultimate undo-over... That's quite creative. Talk about the road not taken... Literally, when you come to a fork in the road, take it. Quite the series-ending fireball as well..
Thanks!! rbs
Absolutely superb!
Nobody expects the Starfleet Inquisition! Enjoyed the dedication plaque and quote. Wonder who was supposed to officiate the wedding. And a fitting way to end the series with a bang. Nice work.
Thank you, all.
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