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Star Trek Hunter Episode 22: Sacrifice

STH%2BY3%2Bicon.jpeg

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 22: Sacrifice
Scene 6: The Balcony


22.6
The Balcony


As instructed, Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper brought the tiny shuttle craft down directly into the atrium of the newly constructed Imperial Administration Center on Vulcan, located a few hundred meters from the Regar Sea - the largest ocean on Vulcan. The building had 40 stories and was constructed from transparent plascrete. It wrapped around a large central garden in a rough horseshoe shape that was open to a beach leading down to the sea.


“No heroics, Hopper,” said Justice Minerva Irons. “There is nothing you can do for me – if you try, it will ruin my plans. The only way you make it out of here without becoming a slave is to assume all is lost and just play it straight.”

“That is almost exactly what Commander Dolphin told me,” Hopper replied. “That and to be very respectful toward Supreme Commander Sela – never use her name or anyone’s name – only their titles.” She went through the shutdown sequence, secured the engine, then keyed the door. “I should exit first, your honor.”

“Yes, you should.” Irons remained seated as Hopper stepped around her, having to bend over slightly because the shuttle was not large enough to stand up in. She turned and stepped out of the craft. “Leave the door open and hand the remote to the centurion, Flight Specialist,” Irons said.


Hopper held her hand out, the remote key to the shuttle in her hand. A number of romulan guards, led by a centurion surrounded the craft and the two women. The centurion looked at one of the guards. The guard stepped forward and held out her hand. Hopper tilted her hand, dropping the key into the guard’s hand.


“I know you speak Romulan,” said the centurion.

“We both do,” Irons responded.

The centurion registered only the slightest surprise, glancing at Hopper, then said, “You are to go to the balcony on the 14th floor. Please make your way directly there.”

“Thank you, Centurion,” said Irons.


“No escort?” Hopper asked as they stepped away from the guards ringing the shuttle.

“A show of strength on Sela’s part,” Irons responded. “Can you imagine a high level romulan operative being invited to walk, unescorted into the Federation Council building to meet with President Rodriguez on a balcony?”

Hopper shook her head.

“Supreme Commander Sela will be standing by the balcony rail when we arrive and she will be alone,” said Irons. “She will be wearing civilian clothing – probably a long gown. Do not make any false moves. She is quite capable of protecting herself.”

“Commander Dolphin told me to resist temptation at every turn.”

“I did not promote him twice for being reckless.”

While the two women were not escorted into the building, there was no shortage of observers. It was evident that the romulans had been ordered to leave the two women alone to move at their own pace and at will. It was equally evident they were uncomfortable with those orders.


The entire ground floor served as a lobby. Although the large, open ground floor was filled with people – mostly romulan, but several vulcans and humans as well – the two women were afforded a wide berth. When they chose an elevator, no one joined them. Their ride to the 14th floor was a solitary one.

The 14th floor was apparently one large office and apartment suite and was entirely vacant. It was only a few meters from the elevator to the balcony. Just as Irons had predicted, Supreme Commander Sela was dressed in an emerald green gown - but of a different cut from the one Irons had seen her wearing on the I.R.W. Bestia. She was leaning on the rail of the balcony, looking out to sea.



“Vulcan is a dying planet,” Sela said, still looking out to sea as Irons joined her at the rail. “This is not my first time to look at this ocean. Even with all the passion the humans have poured into saving this planet, it is still dying.”

Hopper hung back near the door.

“Step up to the rail and look at it, young human,” said Sela. “So little life along the shore. So little life in that ocean.” Sela turned and looked at her (mostly) human visitors. “In your stupidity and your immorality, you nearly destroyed Earth in your 21st Century. But even the most egregious of human neglect and greed was nothing compared to the barbarity and hatred of the vulcans for one another. Earth was able to recover.”


Sela looked back out to sea as Jennifer Hopper walked up to the rail – put her hands on it – looked out to sea. There were no ships. No one was swimming or surfing. No signs of life. “Vulcan has been slowly dying for a thousand years. This planet will eventually become uninhabitable. The human passion and contrition that saved Earth cannot save Vulcan. The poisons the vulcans used in their last world war were too potent. They have tried for a thousand years to extract them, but those poisons got spread everywhere by the water and have caused a deadly ongoing chain reaction in the soil. It just keeps getting worse. Their weapons worked better than they were designed to. As much hate as you humans could manage to throw at one another, it never even began to compare to how much hate the vulcans had for each other. How much hatred they had for themselves. You know the story of Surak, who finally led the vulcan people to peace and logic, teaching them to rigorously suppress their emotions. It’s part of what you humans love about vulcans. Their cold dispassionate logic.”

Sela turned to look at Irons. “You are part vulcan, but you don’t suppress your emotions. There are more and more of you – you have taken the poison of the vulcans into your species. You have taken their poison into your very blood, and left the antidote on the table.”

“Without their emotional self-control, vulcans are monsters. You are a quarter vulcan, but you do not discipline yourself. Is that how you came to be such a monster, Justice Irons?”

Sela paused, then focused on Jennifer Hopper, looking at her closely. “Come here, child.”

Hopper walked around Irons, stepped in front of the romulan supreme commander. She managed a relaxed humility. “You were very well chosen for this assignment,” Sela said. “Just the right combination of humility and self-possession. Do you speak?”

“To tell the truth, I am frightened out of my wits, Supreme Commander. I don’t know whether to stand at attention or curtsey,” said Hopper.

Sela laughed lightly. “You are also part vulcan?”

“No, Supreme Commander. My grandfather is romulan.”

“One of my admirals?”

“A commander, I believe,” said Hopper.

“I thought romulans were prohibited from service in Star Fleet,” Sela observed.

“Star Fleet had only allowed romulans and people of romulan descent to serve in Star Fleet Intelligence,” Hopper replied. “Then, 10 years ago when Admiral El Fadil became Chief of Staff, he pushed through a policy change. Romulans are now allowed to serve in every command within Star Fleet as long as we are Federation citizens or receive a recommendation from a command level officer.”

“Very interesting. Return to where you were, child,” said Sela.


Sela turned toward Irons again. “You will be tried. Your trial will be broadcast. You will implicate Star Fleet in the destruction of Gamorlan and the death of thousands of romulans.”

“I will do all those things, Supreme Commander. And I will give you far more. I will give with both hands,” said Irons. “But there is a price.”

“You will not go free,” said Sela.

“No,” Irons replied. She took a deep breath. “No, I have recently realized that I have not been free for a very long time. But I will escape. Probably immediately after the trial. And after I escape, you will send our pilot back to us, unmolested.”

“That is what you selected her for. To test me?” Sela was clearly holding an icy fury very carefully in check.

Irons was simply exhausted. “No, Supreme Commander. We selected her to be a coin. A coin with which you will purchase the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems. Al D. 3, Al D. 4 and Al J. 4 are all suitable for the transplantation of Saketh. You are aware of the U.S.S. Ark?”

“A weapon beyond imagination,” said Sela. “We are prepared to destroy it.”

“You would be destroying your future,” Irons replied. “The Ark was created to remove all life, all the soil, all the water, all of the atmosphere from Saketh and transplant them to Al D. 3, Al D. 4 and Al J. 4. Saketh is the only superplanet left in romulan space. It could live, except for the wave of gamma radiation headed toward it. In less than 300 years, Saketh will be sterilized.”

“And you know,” rejoined Sela, “that the star systems you call Al Donovos and Al Jenova will be sterilized in just over 3,000 years by gamma waves from the same source.”

“Not if we can repair the machine,” said Irons.

“You don’t think we have considered that?” asked Sela - her icy fury just a little closer to the surface. “The only people who could repair that machine are the people who built it.”

“The borg,” said Irons.

“And you don’t think we had considered using them?” Sela was no longer concealing her anger.

“It turns out that we may have some resources that you might not have been able to include in your consideration. Not technology,” Irons added, anticipating Sela’s response, “Personnel. We have a few people who are immune to the borg nanites. And who have some very unusual abilities.”

“You would need an emancipated borg to be able to rework their base code…” Sela started.

“We have one of those,” Irons replied.


Sela closed her eyes, rolled her head back, sighed, letting her anger drain from her. “Even with all of that, your plan might have worked if you could make a bargain with their queen. But she is dead. The borg have not fared well since the destruction of their transwarp conduit. They are not the power they once were. You saw their ships - those are among the best they have to offer. There just are not enough of them left to get this job done.”

“You have a long term plan. Romulan nomads.” Irons looked at Sela. “How many of your people would be left behind to starve or die from gamma radiation?”

“What are you driving at?” Sela asked.

“You said it yourself, a few moments ago,” Irons replied. “I have become a monster. Not just for your people, but for mine as well.”

Sela took a long breath, looked at Irons closely, evaluating her. “I will not allow you to escape.”

“I would not expect you to, Supreme Commander,” Irons replied levelly. “But when I do escape, remember: Flight Specialist Hopper is the coin. She is your innocent witness to these events. Your unimpeachable emissary. And the key to the future of your people.”

“I was not looking forward to putting you on trial, given your age. You are old and tired, Minerva Irons. But listening to your bluster, I am beginning to have more of an appetite for this trial,” said Sela.

“Oh, I will give you a memorable trial,” Irons replied. “Together, you and I will create a legend. A terror that your people will never forget.”


22.6 (of 15)​
 
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It seems Sela's resources are not all reaching if she didn't realize the Federation had a relationship with emancipated Borg.

Looking forward to Selas surprise when she realizes she doesn't get to keep Justice Irons. :beer:

-Will

Excellent story telling, by the way.
 
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oking forward to Selas surprise when she realizes she doesn't get to keep Justice Irons.

Seems like Sela can never catch a break. I enjoyed it reading it RBS.

Irons just confirmed Dolphin's hypothesis: Sela's only strategy to preserve the Romulan Empire is to transform her people into nomads who conquer their way across the Alpha Quadrant ahead of the disaster and outrun it. This would mean sacrificing their planet-bound populations - billions of romulans left to die.

Now Irons just gave Sela a glimmer of hope that she might be able to save those people. She has Sela's undivided attention.

Thanks!! rbs
 
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Star Trek Hunter
Episode 22: Sacrifice
Scene 7: Sweet Madam Blue


22.7
Sweet Madam Blue


Penelope was an extraordinarily kind hearted soul, which made her very, very good at her job. She could read each client and know exactly what they needed. Her clients were male, female and a few were rather indeterminate or were in transition. Most of them could only afford a weekend of her attentions – and that only a few times a year. Some took a 2- or 3- week vacation to spend in her care. Many of her clients were married and some of them came as couples for the therapy she provided.

It was very useful that a few powerful U.S. and Ohio State Treasury officials as well as a talented accountant or two were among her clients as she was invariably audited every year. Another of her clients served on the medical review board that certified her business model every year. Penelope was a medical doctor and had doctorates in psychology, psychiatry and sex therapy. Her services were quite expensive and her client list rather exclusive. She did have a few particularly desperate clients who were unable to pay to whom she provided her services in return for keeping her rather magnificent home and gardens clean and in good order. She cared deeply for each of her clients, whether rich or impecunious. Giving meaning to their lives gave meaning to hers.

Considering the rather puritanical nature of Middle America in the late 20th Century, Penelope might have had serious problems with the local religious establishments, or the police, or various arms of local, state and federal government, but discounts for well-placed clients and a little bit of extra attention provided to key clients kept all of these various forces at bay.


But Penelope was living a double life.


She was a lucid dreamer – she remembered her waking life in detail while dreaming and remembered every detail of her dreams while awake. These exceptionally lucid dreams had begun when she was a little girl. At first all she remembered was a vague blue haze. Gradually, she began to identify with the blue haze and after a year or so she was able to turn her dreaming awareness outward. She had thought at first she had been dreaming that she was swimming. But there was nothing to swim through. Nothing to push against.

Her dreaming self had companions. And none of them were blue. Their skin was dark brown and they were enormous - each the size of a fair-sized house. Larger than the house that Penelope had grown up in. As she grew up, she had realized she could communicate with them and hear their communication with one another. Well – it didn’t exactly involve hearing... They didn’t think small, human thoughts. They thought gigantic, whale thoughts. She finally decided to call them whales. Space whales.

Penelope quickly learned to keep these dreams to herself. They seemed innocent enough at first, but they were too different from the way that other people dreamed. She never felt like she was sleeping. It felt more like she was waking to another life. Every nap, every moment she was asleep, her friends were there, swimming with her. Not swimming – flying through the stars. There was a baby. And they were depending on Penelope to help raise her. A baby whale.


It was an odd double life – the most complicated and involved life a human could live juxtaposed with an alternate life of pure freedom and complete innocence. Each life was the perfect counterpart to the other. Her job as nanny for the baby whale – to help shape its morality – came naturally to her – a simple, nurturing, life-giving ethos. The whales lived simple lives, grazing on asteroids to collect water, molten, inner planets to collect minerals and basking in the coronas of stars, to store up energy for their next interstellar journey.

Penelope was not human during these times. She could be dispersed over more than a thousand square meters or condensed into a tight blue field. As a human, she had a fair idea what she was - flesh and blood. Her incarnation as an indistinct blue haze was a complete mystery to her.


She first became aware of the presence of a human interloper because the baby became unsettled. It was nearly 20 years old now, so baby was no longer really fair, but Penelope still felt very protective. Somehow, she felt it had been her purpose to raise this child emotionally and while it was no longer a baby, it was not yet an adult. It had never occurred to her to actually go inside her charge, but that was clearly what it was now wanting her to do.

Moving her presence into the baby was very much like going anywhere else in space. She was astounded to find an environment inside the baby that was created for human habitation. What on the outside appeared to be a supple whale, flexing with each change of direction, on the inside looked like a mid-20th Century coochi-lounge – all dark reds and golds – a warm, seductive place. A large, dark orange, semi-circular couch more or less faced a curved, ovular viewscreen – or perhaps window – Penelope was not quite certain. Through this window, the stars and other members of the whale herd could be seen.

She had a strong feeling that the small, bald, dark-skinned man wearing khakis, Wellingtons and a leather jacket belonged there – as much as she did – perhaps more. This feeling bothered her greatly. He looked South American to her. He was relaxing on the couch as if he had been there forever. Penelope found herself molding her appearance to resemble her human form, complete with the clothing she most often wore, but skin, clothing, shoes and all remained a consistent shade of light blue.


“Hello Lavardorn Avatar,” said her South American interloper, relieving her of her concern about needing to dig up Spanish that she had last used more than a decade ago. He sat up and looked at her as her form solidified. “Do you know just what you are?”

Penelope had never spoken while in her non-corporeal hazy blue incarnation, but now, having assumed a human-like form, she found that she could speak. “No.” It was a timid squeak, not her usual, low, carefully cultivated sultry tones. She had grown used to being in control of every situation. She was used to people being naked to her – completely vulnerable and exposed. For the first time in more than a decade, she felt naked and exposed. She could craft her form to resemble a human wearing clothing, but the reality was there could be no clothing for this blue form. This odd sense of vulnerability was increased by an instinct that, although she had no clue what she actually was, it was clear her interlocutor did.

“I am human,” Penelope managed, still learning how to control this voice – a voice she had never used because she had never even been aware that she had it.

“And so am I. To all appearances. But I am somewhat more than human. You are much, much more than human. The creature we currently inhabit has many names. Most of them are far too long for convenient conversational use. Call her a lavardorn. It is close enough to the first few syllables of the name her race’s creators used for their creation. And you are her avatar. Do you know where we are?”

“I have no idea,” Penelope replied.

“We call this galaxy NGC 55,” her South American interlocutor responded. “It is the home galaxy for lavardorn, although they have spread to several neighboring galaxies over the past 5,000 years. You seem to think of these creatures as space whales – entirely coincidentally, NGC 55 is also known as the Whale Galaxy. This species is about 7.5 million years old. Recently – meaning in the past 15,000 years – some of them have developed a method of travel so fast that we do not have any adequate means of measuring it. This creature is one of the fastest and she is just now coming into her own. Her pod has selected her to be the first to populate the Milky Way. Soon, you and she will leave this pod and make your way across the vast gulf of intergalactic space – about 6.5 million light years to our home galaxy – your home galaxy. This is why the pod chose to embed an avatar in a human – you are Minerva’s beacon – her true north.”

“Minerva?” Penelope asked.

“Well, we should name her, and Minerva is the goddess of wisdom. The protector of life. It would be a fitting name, don’t you think, Penelope?”


“You know my name, and you propose to name my, well, my child. Who are you?”


“Ah, my apologies, we first met a long time from now. It is so easy to be neglectful when an old friend is meeting you for the first time. I am Doctor Sarekson Carrera and I have a very difficult job ahead of me. I will need your help – yours and Minerva’s. Unfortunately, I will never get to meet your human incarnation – at least not your current one. You will carry the memories of each humanoid incarnation from one lifetime into the next. Your job will be to keep Minerva sane on her very long voyage to the Milky Way. That is the reason for your double life. Your human life will ground you so that you can, in turn, keep Minerva grounded. You are the first incarnation of Minerva’s avatar.”

“So, I will be, um, reincarnated?” asked Penelope.

“In a way,” Carrera mused. “The human Penelope will die like any human. But you will carry her memories as you are reborn into another inhabitant of the Milky Way. Reborn several times among several different species on several different worlds. I have noticed two things in common among Minerva’s avatars – you are invariably female and invariably extraordinarily kind, compassionate souls. Which makes me curious about your human self. I have known you to be a nurse, a psychiatrist, a lawyer – always someone who takes care of others and cares deeply for them. But I do not know what your first incarnation was… is… sorry – the English language was never designed to manage non-linear temporal phenomena. So what does the human Penelope do?”


“Actually, it is Mistress Penelope, Doctor Carrera. I am a professional dominatrix…”


22.7 (of 15)


 
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Now there's an imaginative concept. So many questions, so little time. But then, if we are to have a prayer of traveling fast enough to move between galaxies, time and distance need to become something less, or other, than what we think.

I can not wait to learn more about Penelope, the kind dominatrix. What a setup.

-Will
 
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Okay, Penelope's lucid dream sounds like a mix of Buddhism and Star Trek IV:Voyage Home.

Is avatars is another way of saying past lives?

Is the whale galaxy the one that sent the probe to Earth in the late 23rd Century?

I listened to White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane and Whip It by Devo while reading this.
 
Now there's an imaginative concept. So many questions, so little time... I can not wait to lean more about Penelope, the kind dominatrix. What a setup.

Thanks for the kind words - glad you're enjoying. Kindness is the difference between a dom and a sadist. All of these themes are kind of presaged by Mlady's preamble to this episode.

Okay, Penelope's lucid dream sounds like a mix of Buddhism and Star Trek IV:Voyage Home...

Is avatars is another way of saying past lives?

Is the whale galaxy the one that sent the probe to Earth in the late 23rd Century?

I listened to White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane and Whip It by Devo while reading this.

No clue where the STIV whale ship came from - but it would be poetic if it came from the Whale Galaxy...

An avatar is a representation where the actual being can not exist. The concept is Hindu. Gods who do not live on Earth, descend as avatars, physical spirits of aspects of themselves, to interact.

Will nailed it on the avatar. In this case, Minerva's avatar allows her to communicate with humanoids and is keeping her sane on her long voyage to the Milky Way. There's a fun little time travel trope with the avatar meeting Dr. Carrera for the first time - but he's known her for hundreds of years. Eventually you'll get to see the other side of that paradox - Carrera will meet the avatar for the first time - but she will have known him for hundreds of years...

Sci-fi/Fantasy goes down well with rock. I remember reading the story of Helm's Deep (in The Two Towers) the first time with Bachman-Turner Overdrive. Canadian metal mixed really well with the Battle of Helm's Deep...

Thanks!! rbs
 
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Star Trek Hunter
Episode 22: Sacrifice
Scene 8: The Shadowhounds of Avradega


22.8
The Shadowhounds of Avradega


Like many species native to Andoria, the shadowhounds of Avradega had antennae that served a variety of purposes from fine perception of temperature variances to chemical sampling beyond the olfactory senses, an exceptional sense of balance, registry of atmospheric vibrations too subtle to be heard and a keen sense of light and shadow that affected the fine muscles along their backs, sides and tails which in turn raised fur of different colors that gave these animals superb, flowing camouflage. Unlike andorians, the shadowhounds’ antennae were long and whiplike, laying back across their bodies. Shadowhounds looked somewhat like a cross between a hyena and a cheetah with a 1970’s era muscle car. As fast as andorians could run (considerably faster than humans), the shadowhounds were much, much faster and nearly invisible, even when running in the open.


In the great forest of Avradega, the shadowhounds ran silently and unseen across a light dusting of snow beneath snow-covered trees. What natural selection had gifted them with, centuries of breeding had refined. The ragtag group of andorians running from the shadowpack – although running much faster than humanly possible – had no chance against such pursuers. When they came to a ravine, the four youngest hesitated and were quickly pinned down by pursuing shadowhounds. The others – about 20 andorians – leapt into the ravine without hesitation.

Had this been a terrestrial ravine, none of the runners would have survived. But Avradega was a moon that was only ¾ the mass of Earth. Even so, few humans could have made such a leap and continued running. But these were andorians – lighter, tougher, and gifted with superhuman balance due to their antennae. All but two who made the leap landed on their feet and, taking the enormous leap in stride, kept running. The two who stumbled did not get a chance to get back up – shadowhounds landed on them and kept them pinned. The remainder of the shadowpack followed seamlessly after the runners with even less interruption in their stride – as if they had simply hopped over a fallen log.

Had these been wild shadowhounds, the runners (mostly children) who were pinned would have been ripped apart. But this shadowpack was a highly trained SAR (Search and Retrieval) pack. Utterly silent in pursuit, once an SAR shadowhound had its prey firmly pinned, it would utter a low-pitched, powerful vibration, not unlike the purr of a large, terrestrial cat. This powerful vibration activated a beacon embedded in the animal’s chest which alerted its handlers to beam the shadowhound into a handling area and its quarry into a holding cell. The handler calmed the animal, reset its beacon, then sent it immediately back to the location from which it had been beamed out, there to rejoin the hunt.


From the beginning of this SAR operation, it took less than 20 minutes to round up the last known members of Andoria First in the Andor star system and the captives were quickly transported to a prison in Laibok (the capital of the forest moon of Avradega) to await trial.


22.8 (of 15)​
 
Thanks for the kind words - glad you're enjoying. Kindness is the difference between a dom and a sadist. All of these themes are kind of presaged by Mlady's preamble to this episode.



No clue where the STIV whale ship came from - but it would be poetic if it came from the Whale Galaxy...



Will nailed it on the avatar. In this case, Minerva's avatar allows her to communicate with humanoids and is keeping her sane on her long voyage to the Milky Way. There's a fun little time travel trope with the avatar meeting Dr. Carrera for the first time - but he's known her for hundreds of years. Eventually you'll get to see the other side of that paradox - Carrera will meet the avatar for the first time - but she will have known him for hundreds of years...

Sci-fi/Fantasy goes down well with rock. I remember reading the story of Helm's Deep (in The Two Towers) the first time with Bachman-Turner Overdrive. Canadian metal mixed really well with the Battle of Helm's Deep...

Thanks!! rbs

Taking Care of Business would be a perfect song to play during a space battle. I'm a huge fan of Rock and Roll and Heavy Metal.
 
STH%2BY3%2Bicon.jpeg

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 22: Sacrifice
Scene 8: The Shadowhounds of Avradega


22.8
The Shadowhounds of Avradega


Like many species native to Andoria, the shadowhounds of Avradega had antennae that served a variety of purposes from fine perception of temperature variances to chemical sampling beyond the olfactory senses, an exceptional sense of balance, registry of atmospheric vibrations too subtle to be heard and a keen sense of light and shadow that affected the fine muscles along their backs, sides and tails which in turn raised fur of different colors that gave these animals superb, flowing camouflage. Unlike andorians, the shadowhounds’ antennae were long and whiplike, laying back across their bodies. Shadowhounds looked somewhat like a cross between a hyena and a cheetah with a 1970’s era muscle car. As fast as andorians could run (considerably faster than humans), the shadowhounds were much, much faster and nearly invisible, even when running in the open.


In the great forest of Avradega, the shadowhounds ran silently and unseen across a light dusting of snow beneath snow-covered trees. What natural selection had gifted them with, centuries of breeding had refined. The ragtag group of andorians running from the shadowpack – although running much faster than humanly possible – had no chance against such pursuers. When they came to a ravine, the four youngest hesitated and were quickly pinned down by pursuing shadowhounds. The others – about 20 andorians – leapt into the ravine without hesitation.

Had this been a terrestrial ravine, none of the runners would have survived. But Avradega was a moon that was only ¾ the mass of Earth. Even so, few humans could have made such a leap and continued running. But these were andorians – lighter, tougher, and gifted with superhuman balance due to their antennae. All but two who made the leap landed on their feet and, taking the enormous leap in stride, kept running. The two who stumbled did not get a chance to get back up – shadowhounds landed on them and kept them pinned. The remainder of the shadowpack followed seamlessly after the runners with even less interruption in their stride – as if they had simply hopped over a fallen log.

Had these been wild shadowhounds, the runners (mostly children) who were pinned would have been ripped apart. But this shadowpack was a highly trained SAR (Search and Retrieval) pack. Utterly silent in pursuit, once an SAR shadowhound had its prey firmly pinned, it would utter a low-pitched, powerful vibration, not unlike the purr of a large, terrestrial cat. This powerful vibration activated a beacon embedded in the animal’s chest which alerted its handlers to beam the shadowhound into a handling area and its quarry into a holding cell. The handler calmed the animal, reset its beacon, then sent it immediately back to the location from which it had been beamed out, there to rejoin the hunt.


From the beginning of this SAR operation, it took less than 20 minutes to round up the last known members of Andoria First in the Andor star system and the captives were quickly transported to a prison in Laibok (the capital of the forest moon of Avradega) to await trial.


22.8 (of 15)​
This has stench of Sela written all over it.
 
Taking Care of Business would be a perfect song to play during a space battle...

I never expected to become a fan of the Beastie Boys... Until 2009.

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This has stench of Sela written all over it.

Different tyrant...
 
STH%2BY3%2Bicon.jpeg

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 22: Sacrifice
Scene 9: An Imperial Request


22.9
An Imperial Request


“It seems you have rolled up the Andoria First movement across most of your empire.”

Federation Councilmember Emory Ivonovic was in his new office near the top of the Federation Council Building. He easily had enough support to take the leadership position for the Homeworld Coalition - now the largest coalition in the council - but he did not want it. He had become a reliable vote wrangler for Council Leader Chelna Yaalleiysei.

Unlike Ushi Irons’ enormous, sparsely furnished, sun-drenched office, Ivonovic’s office had the warm, classic look of a 19th Century manor. There was a sofa set near an artificial fire, a conference table with a number of chairs, his desk dominated another quarter of the room and a small group of plush chairs organized near several bookcases that were filled with books. Ivonovic and Emperor Sin IV were seated in two of these chairs - clearly Ivonovic’s favorite corner of this large, comfortable office. “What kind of assistance are you looking for from Star Fleet?” Ivonovic asked.


The blind emperor was dressed in a hand-crafted, dark blue 3-piece suit with gold pinstripes - which looked weird on a pale, blind andorian - his antennae moving sharply, deliberately - he looked like a strange white bug in a suit. “We are looking for Star Fleet to aggressively enforce the Gagarin Treaty. The only significant Andoria First group remaining within the Andorian Empire is on Weythan, which, as you know, is also a vulcan colony and a stronghold for the rebel Vulcan Nativist movement. This, along with the system’s proximity to Vulcan, makes Weythan a prime target for romulan aggression. Weythan must be kept in the Andorian Empire, in the Vulcan High Command in Exile, and within the Federation. When we move to re-take Weythan, we will be vulnerable to the Praetorian Guard. We need Star Fleet to watch our back.”

“I am concerned about Star Fleet’s ability to face any of the romulan war birds with their current fleet,” said Ivonovic. “The Ark would make short work of one - probably five or more. And the Milky Way. Three more of the Ark class and five more of the Milky Way are under construction, but what we have now is about 40 of those Prowler class.”

“A bug in a suit…” Emperor Sin IV laughed. “You underestimate bugs. You should talk to your friend. He has been flying one of those bugs.” The emperor stood up. “I am quite pleased with this suit. A human fashion, but reinvented for my build. It is the most comfortable clothing I have ever worn. Andorians are built differently from humans. I have engaged Gillano and Sons to re-design my imperial robes. If they could do so well making a human suit fit me, maybe they can make my robes fit properly as well. I would never have expected such excellence from the Colony of New Hope. I think you fail to adequately appreciate the resources at your disposal, Esteemed Councilmember.”


“I meant no disrespect, Emperor…” Ivonovic rose.


“I do not hold you responsible for your passing thoughts,” said the emperor. “I will go so far as to admit you would find mine no more flattering. If we do not allow ourselves this indulgence, we would take out the hate we have been taught to lavish upon ourselves on others who are different from us – so different that all we can see is reflections of ourselves.”

“The selves we have been taught to hate?” Ivonovic smiled. The emperor was well known to speak in riddles – a part of the charisma that held his people in such sway.

“If we loved ourselves too well, we could not function as social animals,” Sin IV mused.

“And so we are taught to hate ourselves?” Ivonovic asked.

“When have you ever known something that must be done not to be done to extreme excess?” the blind emperor responded. “I remember your thoughts when I had Premiere Saoron arrested to save his life from the Romulan Senate. It was your plan, including all the embellishments. And it was a brilliant plan. But you were sickened by it. Sickened by my people – by our antennae – but that was only a reflection of how you felt about yourself. It was a devious plan and you are a devious man. Now I have one for you.”

Ivonovic smiled. “A devious plan?”

“Alas, the plan is not mine,” Emperor Sin IV replied. “I am not so devious a creature as advertised. This plan comes from the master of secrets, Ushi Irons. It appears Minerva Irons is convinced that we must provide the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems to the Romulan Star Empire to prevent the sack of Trillus Prime and Betazed. More importantly, her children believe her. And so do I.”

“We cannot do that!” Ivonovic nearly exploded. “Never again! We cannot retreat before the romulans - we would be ceding half of the Neutral Zone!”

“Your response was accurately predicted by our great friend, Ushi, the puppet master.” The emperor laughed. “I will provide the votes to make it happen from the Federal coalition. Your job will be to fire up the Homeworld coalition against it. Rise to great heights. Ride the wave. This is the moment created for you.”

“This will destroy Ushi. I will see to that,” said Ivonovic.

“He expects nothing less,” said Sin. “Did you know that he considers you the greatest internal threat to the future of the Federation? You are not a hereditary tyrant, like I am. You are a demagogue. A rabble rouser. A common man who has risen to create a cult of personality. The greatest threat any democracy faces. And this will be Ushi’s legacy. He considers it quite the irony.”

“He’s wheeling and dealing behind the scenes to give Federation space to the Romulan Star Empire and he considers me the threat to the Federation?” Ivonovic was nearly apoplectic.

“I will leave you with this, Emory,” said Sin. “You stand within a breath of realizing your greatest ambition. And you are angry with the man who is handing it to you on a silver platter. Along with his own head. Ushi asked me if you can handle this. If you are smart enough… If you are humble enough…” Emperor Sin IV’s antennae were focused intently on Ivonovic. Ivonovic could almost feel the emperor rooting about in his head. “Are you?”





The Andorian Emperor exited Ivonovic’s office, leaving the councilmember seething inside. He stopped at Joanna’s desk. Ivonovic’s personal secretary looked up with apprehension. She had seen the emperor a few times and was terrified of him. She had never spoken to him. She was used to Ivonovic having many dangerous and increasingly strange friends, but the newly legendary tyrant of the Andorian Empire was by far the strangest and most terrifying to her. The blind emperor leaned in close to her. His odd, blind eyes looked directly into hers - the irises and pupils of his eyes only partially formed. She felt a chill run up her spine. A nightmare creature in a blue pinstriped three-piece suit.


“Emory is in a bad mood,” the emperor said to Joanna. “But he knows that I speak the truth. Thank him for me for this suit. It is quite an amusing gift. Your idea, if I am not mistaken?”

Sin IV paused as Joanna nodded - then smiled as an expression of confusion crossed her face as she remembered that he was blind.

“Um, I mean…” she started.

“Thank you. It has provided me a valuable lesson,” Sin interrupted. He briefly touched her forehead as if giving a blessing. Considering how thin, pale and… well… bug-like he was, she was surprised at how smooth and warm his hand was. “Good night, Joanna.”


22.9 (of 15)


 
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...Where's the Tellarites representative?

I mentioned that there are 360 seats in the Federation Council, and that membership follows population, which means a majority of the council is human and there are a lot of bolians as they are the second most populous FTL member species. But I only named three council members - Chelna Yaalleiysei, Ushi Irons and Emory Ivonovic. There would be a few vulcans, tellarites, andorians, and others.

The only tellarite character I highlight is Justice Irons' direct superior in the Federation Tribunal, Appellate Justice Mreek. She will make an extended appearance in Ep. 25.

Thanks!! rbs
 
STH%2BY3%2Bicon.jpeg

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 22: Sacrifice
Scene 10: The Witness


22.10
The Witness


There was no lock on the door – as was the case with most houses on Vulcan. This was a very small house in a very large garden. The windows were open, but the sea air, while not rancid, was not refreshing either. For nearly a thousand years, the dying biosphere of Vulcan had relied increasingly on enormous machines to maintain the balance of oxygen, carbon dioxide and other gasses in the atmosphere and the waters because there just wasn’t enough life left to do the job. The last great planetary war had poisoned the planet’s lungs. Vulcan was a dying planet on life support and the air smelled like it.

Under the leadership of the great philosopher Surak, the vulcan people had finally come to their senses. Too late.


“There is an enormous… I think it’s some sort of ant,” said Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper. She was looking at a greenish, vaguely ant-like creature about twice the size of her thumb on the open windowsill of a small room that served as a kitchen-dinette.

Justice Minerva Irons was in the other room – a sparsely furnished bedroom with two small beds. “How many legs does it have?”

“Four.”

“If it’s kind of a greenish black, it is a garden ant. They are very poisonous, but not aggressive. Just make sure you don’t sit on any,” Irons responded.

“That isn’t very comforting,” said Hopper. She carefully investigated the room, checking for any others. The ant on the windowsill retreated outside.

Irons walked into the room to find the young pilot pointing at the windowsill. “It just went back outside…”

Irons smiled and retrieved a glass of water. She sat at the table. “They were bred for docility. They’re hunters – they prefer the outdoors. And their primary prey are sand ants, which are just as poisonous, but far more aggressive. They’re also the principle pollinators. They were bred to provide that function as well after the nail bats became extinct.”


“Is it true? What Sela said about this planet being a dying planet?” Hopper asked.

“Most vulcans seem to have given up on their home planet,” Irons mused. “But there are tens of millions of human biologists living here now, trying to save the planet. They have worked miracles in the past few hundred years, but they haven’t been able to keep up with the chain reactions from the poisons used in the last war. Now there are more than a billion romulans here and they have brought biological resources from Romulus with them. Romulans are a passionate people – possibly even more passionate than humans. If they can work together, and if they have a lot of luck, and if the biological resources from dead Romulus are close enough to what is left of living Vulcan, maybe they can save this planet. Oddly, it is entirely possible that the fall of Vulcan to the Romulan Senate might be the only thing that possibly could save this planet. Did you notice our honor guard?”

“Honor guard?” asked Hopper.

“The guards outside that door are not Romulan Star Navy – they’re Praetorian Guard,” Irons replied. “They aren’t stationed there to keep us. Their job is to keep us from harm. You might not have noticed because of the helmets, but one of them was vulcan and at least three more were some blend of human and vulcan. It seems the Senate is serious about reunification. I saw it in the propaganda posters at the entrance to the Romulan Star Navy headquarters. This installation feels less like a military headquarters and more like an embassy. The romulans have already become two people – the republic on Vulcan and the remainder of the old empire.”


There was a moment of silence, then Jennifer Hopper looked up. “I was expecting we would be put in a prison. Why are we being treated so well?”


“Propaganda for Federation consumption,” said Irons. “There will be video of us being held here. And you will be released to return to the Federation with stories of Supreme Commander Sela’s power, courage and magnanimity. And I want you to faithfully report those things. They will facilitate better relations which both our people will need. If the romulans must be our antagonists – and I am certain they will be for quite some time – it is better that they be an enemy we can respect and admire, just as the klingons were a hundred years ago.”

“But it is just a show…”

“Of course it is just a show, Jennifer. But what a show! Can you imagine any federation leader who would dare to treat a suspected terrorist this way? I can’t imagine Chancellor Martok getting away with it in front of the Klingon Council. The fact that Sela can do this and not risk a coup tells you just how powerful she is. She isn’t just doing this for our benefit. She is letting her own people know how powerful she is.”



* Special thanks to ProxiCentauri (PC) from An Archive Of Our Own (AO3) for allowing me to use the insects PC invented for PC’s story “Insects”, published on AO3. I will add notation when other PC romulan insects show up.


22.10


 
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I mentioned that there are 360 seats in the Federation Council, and that membership follows population, which means a majority of the council is human and there are a lot of bolians as they are the second most populous FTL member species. But I only named three council members - Chelna Yaalleiysei, Ushi Irons and Emory Ivonovic. There would be a few vulcans, tellarites, andorians, and others.

The only tellarite character I highlight is Justice Irons' direct superior in the Federation Tribunal, Appellate Justice Mreek. She will make an extended appearance in Ep. 25.

Thanks!! rbs

I tend to forget things easily, especially minor details. Sorry.
 
I tend to forget things easily, especially minor details. Sorry.

STH is really heavy with details. Especially political details. Which is why I appreciate your questions - gives me an excuse to go over all that information as it always comes back into the story at some point.

Thanks!! rbs
 
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