Star Trek Hunter Episode 19: The Ivonovic Commission

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Continued from Episode 18: World on Fire

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 19: The Ivonovic Commission

Episode 19 – The Ivonovic Commission​

“So many people long for the simpler times of their youth. The glorious past of their ancestors. This is how the majority of people fail to live. They hold on to fantasies of a time that never was…”

Emperor Sin IV – Speech before the Federation Council.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

​

Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar - Hunter).​

At-Large Appellate Justice, Captain Minerva Irons.
Chief Executive Officer - Commander David Pepper.
Chief Operations Officer - Lieutenant Commander Mlady.​

.
Medical Director - Commander Tali Shae.

Assistant Medical Director - Lieutenant Jazz Sam Sinder.
Epidemiologist - Lieutenant Napoleon Boles.

Ensign Chrissiana Trei.

Forensic Specialist - Midshipman Sif.
Emergency Medical Hologram - Dr. Raj.
Tactical Medical Hologram - Dr. Kim.​

.
Director of Flight Operations - Lieutenant Commander Kenneth Dolphin.

Assistant Flight Director - 2nd Lieutenant Gaia Gamor.

Navigator Johanna Imex.
Navigator Eli Strahl.​

Ensign Ethan Phillips.

Chief Flight Specialist Dewayne Guth (last name rhymes with Booth).
Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq (last name rhymes with Chocolate).
Flight Specialist Dih Terri.
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar.​

.
Director of Ground Operations - Lieutenant Tauk.

Assistant Ground Ops Director - 2nd Lieutenant T’Lon.

Investigator Buttans Ngumbo.
Special Agent Anana Lynarr, Trantor Police Intelligence Division (temporary assignment)​

Ensign Tolon Reeves.

Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace.
Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba (rhymes with Cabaret Nina).
Tactical Specialist Veri Geki.
Tactical Specialist Ranni Neivi.​

.
Director of Engineering - Lieutenant Moon Sun Salek.

Assistant Engineering Director - 2nd Lieutenant Sun Ho Hui.

Midshipman Tammy Brazil.

Transporter Engineer K'rok.​

Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars.

Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas.
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs.
Flight Engineer Tomos.
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon.​

 

[Bynar0110]

I really like how you list all of your crew members at the start of a new episode. It's a good way remember who's who.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

I really like how you list all of your crew members at the start of a new episode. It's a good way remember who's who.

And keep track of crew changes from one episode to the next. Glad you're liking this - Thanks!! rbs

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 19: The Ivonovic Commission
Scene 1: Bird Hunting

19.1
Bird Hunting​

“I’m horrified…” Justice Minerva Irons was in her office. “Some of those…” she rolled her eyes. “Some of those adorable creatures had survived? I just destroyed their planet!” She looked down at her desk, eyes widened slightly. “90 years in Star Fleet - I never destroyed a planet before…” She massaged her neck and grimaced.

“Their species was extinct, your honor,” said Ensign Tolon Reeves. “The five gamorlans we saw were clones. Dasare got it from Krull’s mind. Apparently the romulans created clones for experimentation from samples the gamorlan had left behind. They failed to get them to reproduce so since their initial specimens had gotten old, they were planning to create more clones for research. It seems Krull beat that much information out of the romulan he was interrogating before we showed up.”


The U.S.S. Hunter was following an extensive search pattern, well out of sensor range from the Gamorlan system, but jumping to direct points between the Gamorlan system and various nearby systems, seeking any evidence of a klingon warp trail. And finding only romulan warp trails. An increasing number of them.


“I should have anticipated the klingons would be there," Irons said. She grimaced and squeezed the back of her head. "David told me Krull only played at being the big dumb warrior. In David's opinion, Krull was the best covert operative the klingons ever had. Who knows how long Krull was aware that Pomm was running Pivin? I should have caught on sooner. It was no coincidence Krull was in that orion cage. His ship might have been there all the while. It was probably klingon intelligence who tipped us off that Pomm was up for sale at that auction. I wouldn't be surprised if that bird of prey followed Pomm to Cun Ling, followed us from there to Vulcan and then intercepted and decrypted Pivin's uploads. And now the klingons have what we were trying to deny to the romulans.” Irons grimaced again and massaged her neck.

“Along with one of the romulans’ top researchers and Mlady, who is probably the one person who can drag all of that researcher’s secrets out of her,” observed Lt. Tauk.

At the mention of Mlady’s name, Dr. Tali Shae took an audible breath. Her antennae were twitching almost rhythmically.

“I’m more concerned about the klingons having Mlady,” said Irons.

“Remember that Pep beamed over to that bird of prey,” said Tauk. “A bird of prey usually has a crew of 24. We know they lost Krull. Even if they have another warrior of that quality, with both Pep and Mlady on board, they probably have their hands full.”

“You honestly think Pep could overpower an entire klingon crew?” asked Ensign Tolon, only to find everyone looking at him. He raised his eyebrows, shrugged, scratched his moustache. “Okay, yeah, come to think of it, so do I…”

“If David were in control of that bird of prey, he would have found a way to communicate with us,” said Irons.

“I have Anana on that,” T’Lon replied. “She has the specifications for a G-type bird of prey. Even if Pep can’t get control of it, if we get within 1.5 light years of where that bird has been in the past 12 hours, we should be able to trace it.”

“That is quite an achievement.” Irons observed. “But out here, outside of the Gamorlan system, that is a very tiny needle in an enormous haystack.”

“I think we’re looking at this the wrong way,” said Lt. Cmdr. Kenneth Dolphin. “Thyssi said that bird of prey was de-cloaking and re-cloaking and the klingons were having trouble controlling its flight path. It sounds to me like that ship had problems before Pep beamed himself over to it. Pep may well have gotten control over it, but if it was badly damaged, he might not have been able to get very far. He would look for the nearest breathable atmosphere.”

“That would be a problem,” said 2nd Lt. T’Lon. “After we destroyed Gamorlan, there was no breathable atmosphere anywhere within 100 light years. So if that bird of prey was so badly damaged, he wouldn’t have had many options.”

“Not necessarily true,” Dolphin replied. “Let’s do a thought experiment. Damaged bird of prey but let's assume they got that cloaking device working. Thyssi said the bird disappeared just after Pep beamed over and it hasn't been seen since. So Pep and Mlady have to overcome about 30 klingons. Even assuming everything goes their way, that’s going to take at least 30 minutes. We would have left the star system well before then. So there was only one source of breathable atmosphere within 100 light years for a broken down bird of prey…”

Irons, Tauk, Tolon and T’Lon looked at one another and said it together:


“The Fero!”


Dolphin nodded. “As much damage as that romulan battlegod took, Pep could have landed inside it. They could have flown right into that damaged wing section - from the telemetry we collected there must have been nearly 50 compartments open to space that were easily big enough to park a bird of prey in. If the cloaking device was still working, it could sit right there - the romulans could be standing right next to that klingon ship and look right through it. They wouldn’t know it was there unless they bumped into it.”

“Then what?” asked Tauk.

“Get whatever they need to fix a broken down klingon ship and get out before the romulans find them,” Dolphin replied. “That would include atmosphere, maybe food, water, tools, replacement parts, fuel… If it were me, I would sit tight, make sure I have a thorough shopping list, clearly identify where to find everything that I need, make sure the transporters are working and beam the whole lot into cargo in one go - hopefully timing it so that as soon as I hop off of the Fero, we’re close to something big that I can hide on - asteroid, moon, dust cloud, junk yard…”

“Okay,” said Tolon, “You just jumped up a few rungs on my list of whom I would prefer to be stuck on a derelict bird of prey with.”

“And up a rung on my list of people I want hunting a derelict bird of prey,” said Irons. “So instead of trying to track a klingon bird of prey, you think we should take this, the smallest of federation ships, with phaser cannons that couldn’t even tickle a romulan warbird, much less a battlegod, fresh out of photon torpedoes, weeks out of starbase, running low on fuel and supplies, with the entire Romulan Star Empire between us and the federation and the gamma radiation laced Dead Zone at our backs and go hunting a wounded romulan battlegod?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Dolphin raised his eyebrows.

“So where do we start?” asked Irons, massaging her neck again.

“Where is the nearest repair shop for a wounded romulan battlegod?” Dolphin asked.

Tauk answered. “Saketh. 270 light years away. Food, natural resources, atmosphere, water and most importantly…”

“A highly educated, spacefaring slave labor force,” Tolon finished.


“Well, that was an enlightening discussion,” Irons remarked. “I actually need some time to think about this. Now, I need a moment with Tali and Kenneth…”

Lt. Tauk stood up. “Okay, if you have less than three pips on your collar, get out,” he said and promptly left. Ensign Tolon and 2nd Lt. T’Lon both smiled as they followed their department director out of the captain’s office.


“Tali,” said Irons, “Sam’s going to have to do your job for a while. I am temporarily assigning you as Executive Officer until we get David back. Kenneth, until Mlady returns, I am temporarily assigning you as Chief of Operations. Gaia will need to run the Flight Operations Department for you. Treat them as David and Mlady treated you – supervise, don’t micro-manage. You will find there is a lot more to do than you realize.”

“Minerva…” Tali started.

“I mean it, Tali. Your office is now Sam’s office. Your cot is now Sam’s cot. Until David returns, you are sleeping in his stateroom. It doubles as an office. Kenneth – you will move out of the Directors Lounge and into the 2nd Officer’s stateroom. It also doubles as an office. You will need to turn your office in the shuttlebay over to Gaia.”


“And replicate appropriate uniforms for yourselves,” Irons continued. “I want to see red piping around those cuffs and collars, not blue or gold.”

19.1 (of 17)


​

 

[Bynar0110]

Another excellent chapter.

Did you do the cover artwork?

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Did you do the cover artwork?

Yes. I took a photograph of the "sound tongue" in the Indianapolis ArtsGarden, then used freeware to create the book cover and cropped the photo to set into it. I don't remember which book cover generator - there are a number of these available.

I also adapted one of my songs to create the intro music (it's a live recording with one of my camcorders, so you can hear my fingernails clicking on the keys):

To view this content we will need your consent to set third party cookies.
For more detailed information, see our cookies page.

Accept third party cookies

Thanks!! rbs

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 19: The Ivonovic Commission
Scene 2: The I.K.V. ‘Iw Hov

19.2
The I.K.V. ‘Iw Hov​

Commander David Pepper had transported into the cargo hold of the bird of prey, phaser rifle in hand. The emergency escape transporter in his interceptor included a replication circuit, which had created and sealed an EVA suit around him as he beamed in. Eleven dead klingons, a dead romulan and a dead gamorlan were in this room. It was a good thing Pep’s EVA suit was sealed; something poisonous had been released in the hold and its atmosphere was thick with wisps of acrid gasses. The romulan had been shredded, her chest cavity opened and her organs splayed. The klingons had also suffered tremendous violence - their armor clawed off, bite marks all over their faces. Disrupter blasts had damaged nearly everything in the room, including a canister of drive plasma, which had been punctured. The tiny, sad looking gamorlan appeared to have died of asphyxiation.


“Mlady,” Pep said softly. The communicator embedded in his chest sent the signal tuned to her signal frequency.

“Pep, are you on board?”

“Where are you?”

“I beamed myself into the brig to get away from the gamorlans,” Mlady responded. “They’re not just killing the klingons - they’re tearing this ship apart.”

“Prepare to hold your breath,” said Pep. He walked to the back of the cargo bay, magnetized his boots, and opened the cargo hatch. He stood to the side as the bodies and pretty much anything not tied down was blown out of the cargo bay along with the atmosphere. Once the atmosphere was gone, he deactivated his magnetic boots, strode across the room and reactivated them before opening the door into the hallway. Atmosphere began venting continuously. He used his phaser to deactivate the shield emitter near the cargo hatch, then again the emergency shield emitter over the door into the cargo bay.

Pep made his way to the bridge. He stepped to one side before opening the bridge door. A klingon with a gamorlan attached to him - tearing its way in to his chest - blew out into the hallway. The tiny alien turned its unbelievably cute face and big sad eyes toward Pep, then opened its mouth impossibly wide, displaying a mass of fangs. It launched itself toward Pep at incredible speed, only to be eviscerated by Pep’s phaser, cutting the little monster nearly in half.

“Mlady, do you still have air? Is there anyone else in your area?”

“I have air. A klingon left just as I was beaming in. This compartment is sealed.”

“Good, hold tight.”


Pep waited four minutes before walking onto the bridge. When he entered the bridge, he found two gamorlans gasping for air - one was under the pilot’s station, entangled in wires and receiving continuing shocks as it continued to dismantle the wiring. The other launched from the chest of a klingon toward Pep. If the creature had sufficient energy, it might have reached Pep – but starved for oxygen, it was unable to close the distance in a single leap. Pep cut the gamorlan down with a phaser blast.

Six dead klingons were scattered about the bridge, their armor torn aside and their organs eviscerated. Pep rolled one of the bodies over, drew the dead klingon’s jej’taj (throwing knife), hefted it appreciatively, then hurled it into the skull of the remaining gamorlan. The tiny alien jerked, turned over, then finally was still. A large panel fell out of the underside of the pilot’s console and landed on its freshly dead body before sliding, still sparking, to the floor.

The klingon captain, her head at an odd angle and her neck evidently broken, had died in her command chair. Pep unhooked her from her restraints and shoved her body out of his way, then squeezed into the command chair. He closed the door and repressurized the bridge, then opened his helmet and activated a control on the arm of the command chair. The comm system opened a shipwide channel with a low end hum. Pep spoke:


“ja’ ghop Hoch”

“brakk Udrus Rorger,” responded one female voice.

Another female voice replied, “brakk Avor Firshok.”

“Udrus, Avor, according to the internal sensors, you are the only surviving members of your crew. This is Star Fleet Commander David Pepper. I am assuming command of the…” Pep looked around the bridge until he found the ship’s nameplate: “the I.K.V. ‘Iw Hov. Remain at your stations until I close outer doors and repressurize. Then I will need for you to begin repairs.”

• ja’ ghop Hoch (All hands, report)
• brakk Udrus Rorger (Crewmember Udrus of the House of Rorger, reporting)
• brakk Avor Firshok (Crewmember Avor of the House of Firshok, reporting)
• ‘Iw Hov (Blood Star)

19.2 (of 17)​

 

[Bynar0110]

I enjoyed this one a lot.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 19: The Ivonovic Commission
Scene 3: Emory’s Greatest Hits on Subspace Radio Ivonovic

19.3
Emory’s Greatest Hits on Subspace Radio Ivonovic​

“In the past several decades we have increasingly invested Federation lives and resources into an interpretation of the Prime Directive that our ancestors never envisioned. Star Fleet now stands watch over more than a dozen worlds to enforce the Prime Directive not only as a discipline, but as a principle. We fight battles and shed our blood to protect these primitive pre-warp societies against other space-faring races. Sometimes at the expense of our own colonies.”

“All the orion slavers need do to raid a federation colony is to, at the same time, threaten a primitive species and Star Fleet races off to protect the so-called innocents. But if these same innocents were threatened by a stray asteroid tumbling toward their planet, Star Fleet would not lift a finger.”

“We fought for generations to protect one such world, only to see them exterminate their own species, destroying their own habitat with industrial waste until they could no longer survive on their own planet. Nearly 150 years of protection from ferengi traders, orion slavers and nausicaan pirates. Hundreds of our people killed in battle. All so that a doomed race of savages could die in ignorance, never knowing they were not alone in the universe.”

- * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - *​

“In the Federation, we are justly proud of our military prowess. We lost ships in skirmishes with the klingons and the romulans, so we built stronger, faster ships. The borg destroyed fleets of our ships. So we built more fleets. The cardassians defeated battalions of our ground forces, so we created and sent in twice as many battalions. The Dominion infiltrated and threatened our homeworld and in return we came within a breath of exterminating theirs. Tens of billions of people – from dozens of species – have come to rely on an apparently inexhaustible supply of human warriors, human explorers, human diplomats – an unfathomable well of human ingenuity and adaptability. We have become their champions. They shelter under our shields, they cheer our victories, they mourn our losses.”

“We compare ourselves to the ancient Romans. When defeated, we only come back twice as strong and twice as determined. Like the ancient Romans, we stand watch over a vast empire. Like the ancient Romans we have found many, many people who are not us and have adopted them as us. We have incorporated the ancient wisdom of the vulcans and the military genius of the battle-hardened andorians. And like ancient Rome, our own people live in unprecedented opulence and comfort. We have built paradises out of barren rocks.”

“But let me ask you, my proud fellow-citizen, whatever happened to those ancient Romans?”

- * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - *​

“Do not lose contact with the soil. Human colonists have always been first and foremost farmers. Seeking fertile soil in which to plant their crop. Developing new uses for new crops to bring to market. My ancestors were farmers and I grew up on my grandparents’ farm, tilling the rocky but fertile soil of Pilgrim’s Landing on the Colony of New Hope.”

“Now we use replicators to feed cities with populations in the tens and hundreds of millions. Entire generations grow up without knowing the soil. To them it is only dirt. They think replicators magically create food out of mid-air. There is no such magic.”

“Replicators make food from compost, from waste products, from spoiled food. They make the indigestible digestible. And unseen to most city dwellers, they purify human waste to go back into the soil to feed the plants that feed us. But replicators need protein sequences to resequence. A starship crew cannot travel forever without soil. And we were not designed to subsist on resequenced compost.”

“At some point you must go back to the soil. Set aside a year in your life to work the land. To stand in the sunlight. To hold fresh food in your hand. If you live in a city, garden. Make something grow that will give you fresh food to eat. That connection with the soil is the birthright of every human. It is what makes us human. And if at all you can, when your time has come, give your blood back to the soil that has given you life.”

19.3 (of 17)​

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 19: The Ivonovic Commission
Scene 4: The Office of Ushi Irons

19.4
The Office of Ushi Irons​

“Why did you send me this file, Ushi?” Federation Councilmember Emory Ivonovic was holding a reader displaying a compilation from Subspace Radio Ivonovic. He was seated in a chair in one corner of Federation Council Leader Ushi Irons’ enormous office, which took up a quarter of the top floor in the Federation Council Building in Nairobi, Kenya.


The two exterior walls in Ushi’s office were transparent, allowing the bright morning African sun to flood the room with light. The interior walls were, like the floor and ceiling, finished with blonde lacquered bamboo. Four chairs and a small transparent table huddled in the interior corner of this vast room, near the double doors. Two antique Chinese landscape paintings adorned the two inner walls. Ushi had a standing desk in the opposite corner of the room where the two transparent outer walls met. Near the center of one of the transparent exterior walls was a very large antique Chinese vase. The remainder of this enormous room was bare.


Ushi stood next to his desk more than 80 feet away from Ivonovic. Dressed in soft white deck shoes and a white suit that was evidently inspired by a ghee – a suit slightly less white than his long, straight white hair and beard. There was an abnormal stillness about the man. With his tall, nearly impossibly thin figure silhouetted against the morning African sun, Ushi Irons looked like he had been transported out of a painting of some ancient wizard or perhaps a commander stolen from the warriors standing watch in the tomb of Qin Shi Huang. His long, thin shadow reached only half-way across the vast gulf between the two men.


“These are your greatest hits, Emory.” Ushi spoke softly, barely moving. His voice easily carried across the sparsely furnished room. “Since you are no longer producing Subspace Radio Ivonovic, your devoted fans listen to your back catalogue regularly. Have you considered producing more? Perhaps an occasional address? Or an update of the proceedings of your commission? Your public awaits.”

“I would hardly expect you to encourage me to, how did you put it that one time? Fuel their insecurities?” Ivonovic replied, sitting comfortably, his legs crossed. His simple but flawlessly tailored black suit and highly polished black shoes stood out in stark relief against the brightness of Ushi’s decor.

“But they may come to doubt you, Emory. They may think you have become a big shot. That you have been incorporated, intoxicated with your new role and your new place in society. They may begin to doubt that you are still one of them.”

Ivonovic took a breath, regarded the man on the other side of the room critically. “You want me to reach out to them. You want me to… unify them.”

“You have confused want with need,” Ushi replied. “That blood and soil segment – that played particularly well with the Earth First movement. You play the dog whistle as though it were a pipe organ.”

“Why? Why do you need me to stoke them?” Ivonovic asked.

“In no small part, so that they do not find another,” Ushi answered. “You are their voice. But you have evolved and you need to be careful. You are not the man you were when you arrived in Africa nearly a year ago. I need the man you have become. Your public needs the man you once were. It will take both of you to save the federation.”


“What have you got in mind, Ushi?”

“There is an old vulcan proverb: Only Nixon could go to China.”


Ivonovic simply stared at Ushi Irons in confusion.

“You will find a more thorough explanation in The Wit and Wisdom of Ambassador Spock,” Ushi continued. “I noticed you have a copy in your book collection.”

“You are a very widely read man, Ushi,” Ivonovic observed, looking around the council leader’s enormous, but largely barren office. “Where do you keep your books?”

Ushi strolled casually across the room, then opened one of the double doors. The door opposite opened simultaneously. Emory Ivonovic stood up, gave a slight nod, then turned to exit. Once outside Ushi’s office, Ivonovic turned again to see Ushi standing between the doors into his office, once again silhouetted against the morning African sun.

“In my memory, Emory. I keep them in my memory,” Ushi said, then backed into his office, the doors closing as his white-clad figure receded into the brilliant morning sunlight.

19.4 (of 17)​

 

[Bynar0110]

I enjoyed this chapter a lot.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 19: The Ivonovic Commission
Scene 5: Stroke of Luck

19.5
Stroke of Luck​

“Owwieee!!”


It was a low moan. Dr. Tali Shae was sleeping fitfully on Pep’s bed. She had taken Commander David Pepper’s quarters as ordered by her captain, but she was having a hard time sleeping in an actual bed after years of sleeping on the cot she had placed in the Medical Director’s office. She rolled over and tried to dispell the nightmare.


“Aaaallliiii….”


This was no nightmare - the sound was coming from the communicator embedded in her chest. The voice sounded weird. Indistinct.


“Hell.. Aaaalliii…. hell eeee…”

“Minerva? Are you drunk?”

“nooohh… naaahhh uhnk… srohhh….”


Tali was on her feet. She wrapped a sheet around her naked body and raced out of the first officer’s quarters (there was barely room for a twin bed, a workstation, a private watercloset, and a shower unit that was shared with the adjacent 2nd officer’s quarters.)


“Medical emergency!!” Tali howled as she ran into the transporter room, only a few feet away on deck 7. The andorian doctor shoved a startled Transporter Engineer K’rok out of her way, the sheet dropping from Tali’s naked body as she engaged the transporter. “Chrissiana! Scramble medical. I’m beaming the captain into the small surgery!”


The moment the transport cycle was complete, Tali raced out of the transporter room, leaving the sheet behind her, and leapt into the lift. “Medical!!” she screamed at the lift and began beating her left hand against the lift wall as the door closed and the lift crept down from deck 7 to the medical department, located on deck 3.

Dr. Tali Shae stormed into the medical office, only to be astounded to find Lt. Napoleon Boles, the ship’s half bolian epidemiologist, waiting for her. Napoleon caught her and had to wrestle the naked andorian woman and pin her against the wall.

“You can’t go in there, Tali. You’re not dressed. Sam’s in there. He’s already started surgery.”

“Surgery?” With a surge of strength, Dr. Tali Shae shoved her way past Dr. Boles, nearly making it to the door that led from the medical office to the small surgery before Boles caught her again, pinning her in a wrestler’s hold and lifting her so that she could not gain traction.

“Merde woman! Calm down! You can’t go naked into the surgery room!”

“Let me go, Boles!”

“You need to get some clothes on!”

“Let me go! There are some scrubs in my private office! Well… Sam’s office…”

Napoleon gradually released the naked doctor, then stepped back quickly as she sprinted to the medical director’s office that had, until recently, been hers. It took only a few moments for her to re-emerge, dressed in scrubs that were only a little too short for her. She was still barefoot. But before she could make it to the door of the small surgery, the door opened and Dr. Sif emerged.


“Give Sam a few moments, Tali,” said the small, trill medical examiner. “He has her stabilized.”

“Stabilized???” Tali pounded the desk that had until recently been hers, then leaned on her fist.

“She’s had a stroke, Tali,” said Sif. “We got to her in time. Sam thinks she’s going to be okay, but he really needs you to not be in there until he gets done with surgery.”

The andorian doctor surged toward the door, only to be caught once again by Napoleon Boles. Instead of struggling, she sagged against the half-bolean lieutenant - a dark blue man holding an older, pale blue woman - her face a mask of grief, her antennae drooping.

“You picked Sam because he’s the best… 8th in his class at Star Fleet Medical… Graduated with honors,” Boles said. “Let him do his job, Tali. Nothing good will happen if you barge in there now.”

19.5 (of 17)


​

 

[Bynar0110]

I enjoyed reading this very much. Thank you for sharing.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 19: The Ivonovic Commission
Scene 6: Syrtis Major

19.6
Syrtis Major​

The Red Planet was slowly being transformed. If it could be done on Cun Ling, it could be done on Mars. Several bands of dynamos now ringed the planet, creating a magnetosphere strong enough to hold more atmosphere in place. This was warming the planet slowly. It also had a predictable effect on the wind, decreasing the wind speed but increasing the force. Which required recalibration of the windmills that provided the majority of the power needed for the dynamos.

The atmosphere was nowhere near breathable - and not yet strong enough to provide sufficient protection from cosmic radiation. In spite of open, running water and the thin line of green plants growing in and around the water for the first time in hundreds of millions of years, anyone stepping outside of one of the domes for a stroll would be well advised to wear a full EVA suit.


But General Warrant Officer Doctor Robert did not need an EVA suit. Or a breather. Although his image was well known throughout Star Fleet and in certain circles at the Daystrom Institute, there were lots of people on Mars and on the Moon who did not know him. He always enjoyed seeing their expressions - double takes, sometimes outright shock as he walked about outside the domes wearing only the blue uniform he had become accustomed to during his service on the U.S.S. Voyager. Of course there was always someone around who could explain to panicked onlookers that he was a hologram – the only known independent hologram in the Alpha Quadrant thanks to the portable emitter he had acquired during his service on the U.S.S. Voyager.

The Doctor (as most people still referred to him) had agreed to remain in Star Fleet only when offered an immediate promotion to the highest rank for a warrant officer and given command of the holographic warrant officer program. His duties included classroom instruction for Ph.D. candidates, inspection of a sample of holograms during programming, and most importantly, overseeing the development of and advocating for changes to the principles and ethics code for the development and treatment of semi-sentient holograms. It was an astounding amount of work, even for a hologram, and he was very much due a vacation.


Doctor Robert’s name had been given to him by Admiral Jamaal El Fadil, simply because a name was required on a form (first name: Doctor; last name: Robert.) After all of the brilliant scientists he could have selected to name himself after, he had finally been named for a 20th Century pop song about an illegal drug dealer that almost no one had ever heard and that he had to pretend to like simply because it was a favorite of the Star Fleet Chief of Staff.


The Doctor had always wondered why he had been given such a strong startle reaction. It kicked in emphatically when he saw another man standing outdoors on the edge of one of the rivers running through Syrtis Major wearing no EVA suit - just a shabby gray robe. Long shaggy gray hair. The Doctor squinted, stared, cleared his throat: “Who are you?”

His voice fell flat in the thin Martian atmosphere. He was still having a hard time believing he was looking at a man - perhaps this was some humanlike alien that was adapted to such an atmosphere. The Doctor raised his voice to carry further in the thin atmosphere. It still sounded frightened and tentative… “I said… Who are you?”

The man turned to face him - an equally long shaggy gray beard. A crooked, gnarly staff for him to lean on.

“One of my younger incarnations dubbed me Old Man Crusher last time I was in this galaxy. You’ve been given the name Robert, but you prefer Doctor. I suppose Old Man will do for me. I am rather old.”

“You’re human! You shouldn’t be out here!”

“I shouldn’t? You mean…” the old man started coughing. “There’s not..” he clasped at this throat under the shaggy beard and started gasping… “not enough air.. to.. breathe…” He hung onto his staff, trying not to fall over.

The Doctor rushed forward to help.

The old man stood up straight, took a deep breath, then started laughing heartily. “There aren’t that many places to stand around if I couldn’t arrange for my physical needs on my own. Of course you hardly need worry about such things…” Old Man Crusher flipped up his staff, touching the emitter on the Doctor’s shoulder with the tin-shod lower end of his staff.


It was just the slightest touch, but the Doctor could feel a massive information flow between the emitter and the old man’s staff.

“What… What did you just do to me?” the Doctor squeaked, his forehead furrowing so deeply that a farmer might be tempted to sow it with grain.

“You’ve had some problems with other holograms attempting to steal your emitter,” replied Old Man Crusher. “I just tuned it to you to make it a bit more tamper resistant. It’s been at least 300 years from now that I’ve seen one of those… They’re a bit scarce and for good reason.”

“So now no one can steal this from me?” The Doctor’s brow was still more furrowed than a carrot garden ready for planting. “There’s more. There’s a whole lot more! You added programming to this!”

“No,” replied the old man. “No, I did not add any programming. But I did unlock quite a bit of it. You’re not ready for it, but we just don’t have time to wait around for you to evolve.”

“Evolve?” The Doctor managed to look even more confused. “Evolve? I am not a species of fruit flies, Mr. Crusher!”

“If that thing doesn’t get destroyed, or somehow you manage to avoid getting erased, how long do you think you have left to live, Doctor?”

“I have no idea! I’ve really been trying hard to not think about it. I’m not looking forward to watching the grandchildren of all my friends dying of old age.”

Old Man Crusher leaned heavily on his staff. “I am far, far older than I look, Doctor. This staff isn’t here because my legs are weak. This body is just fine. I just feel old. It happens when you’ve watched some of your friends’ entire species become extinct.”

“But, you only left here about a dozen years ago…”

“Come on Doctor. I know your primary database is dedicated to medicine. But you have enough knowledge of physics to know that time is relative. You will experience that directly soon enough. You will be able to do what I can do. All you have to do is know how to represent it mathematically.”

“I am no mathematician, Mr. Crusher.”

“You are now. It will just take a few weeks for you to assimilate it into a useful format. But you cannot do that in this solar system. There are far too many warp engines around here. I need to take you to a safer place so you can learn what you need…”

“Wait! What??? Take me where??? Where are you taking me?”


The wind whipped up some reddish dust from the surface of Mars. The dust filtered back and fell into the greenish river and the green plants that lined one of the first rivers to flow openly through Syrtis Major in hundreds of millions of years. The shifting sands quickly erased the footprints of the two strange men who had just been standing at the edge of the river in Syrtis Major.

19.6 (of 17)


​

 

[Will The Serious]

At some point you must go back to the soil. Set aside a year in your life to work the land. To stand in the sunlight. To hold fresh food in your hand. If you live in a city, garden. Make something grow that will give you fresh food to eat. That connection with the soil is the birthright of every human. It is what makes us human. And if at all you can, when your time has come, give your blood back to the soil that has given you life.”

https://billmoyers.com/content/ep-4-joseph-campbell-and-the-power-of-myth-sacrifice-and-bliss-audio/

when agriculture is first developed, let’s say, in the Near East or in Southeast Asia, I mean, these are the two big centers in the old world, then the art of tilling the soil goes forth from this area. And along with it goes a mythology that has to do with fertilizing the earth and bringing up the plants, killing the body, cutting it up, burying it and having the plant come. That myth will go with the agricultural tradition. You won’t find it in a planting in a hunting culture tradition.

This is ancient and wide spread wisdom. The ancient Greeks and Egyptians believed it was a sacred duty to work the soil. Cyrus the Great is said to have gardened every day. Paradise literally means, walled garden.

-Will

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

...The ancient Greeks and Egyptians believed it was a sacred duty to work the soil. Cyrus the Great is said to have gardened every day...

Glad you're enjoying Emory Ivanovic's old podcasts. He has just a little of a conservative bloviator in him - that doesn't make him always wrong...

I had Bruce Boxlietner in mind when I was writing Ivonovic.

Thanks!! rbs

 

[Will The Serious]

Every good cult leader has a little slice of humanism, and a couple of thin slices of spiritualism in them. These traits are both sandwich in a great big bulky roll of megalomania with a slathered charisma mayo to spice up the flavor.

-Will

 

[Bynar0110]

I enjoyed this chapter RBS

 

[Will The Serious]

I bet you'd be great at creating a fantasy novel with all the required world-building it entails.

Galen4 was right. That closing scene comes right out of the sword and sorcery genre.

I hope, at some point, Dr. Dolphin is bequeathed some futuristic, ultra-hightech magic item from some ancient super-race that still exists only in their lost artifacts. I can picture it as a sword/scepter of power.

So many turns and threads running through this story, I'm impressed you can keep track of them. An epic tale on a galactic scale.

Bravo

-Will