Star Trek Hunter Episode 23: JAG Wars

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 7: The Hudson River Massacre

23.7
The Hudson River Massacre​

Vuk Smith and his brother Surrol had spent months in a sailboat along with a number of other Hawaiians and one New Yorker - River Dolphin. These muscular half-vulcan body-builders had sailed from Hawaii to Indonesia, from there across the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea to the Gulf of Aden, up the Red Sea to the Suez Canal, into the Mediterranean, along the coast of North Africa and through the Straits of Gibraltar into the Atlantic. They picked up Starlight Dolphin in Lisbon, Portugal for a journey across the Atlantic to take the Dolphin sisters back to their home in New York City. It had been a long, and for Vuk and River, a rather romantic journey.


A late August fog had rolled in over the Hudson River, obscuring all but the tops of the mighty skyscrapers of New York City, a few of them dating all the way back to the 20th Century. Vuk and Surrol had grown silent, watching the boat’s proximity sensors. The shipmaster, Captain Makoa Moi, was at the wheel. The sails were furled, the mast was bare to the rigging and the boat’s anchor was dropped for station keeping against the river current. The boat’s searchlights were on full and focused on the water. No other boats could be seen in the fog, except for their running lights - and that only when the harbor patrol had drifted close and had to veer away.

The fog was too dense to allow movement by harbor rules. Only boats belonging to the New York Port Authority were allowed to operate in fog this dense.



Starlight Dolphin and River Dolphin were seated toward the stern. The rear canopy was down even though there was a bit of a cold spray to the air. The fog was so thick they could not even see the top of the ship’s mast. The sisters had their pea coats drawn tightly and were wearing ball caps that bore the ship’s name - ‘Ane Moku.


“So there were Earth First protesters in Lisbon?” River was asking. She shivered just a little as a wave slapped the side of the ‘Ane Moku and sent a spray of cold water across the deck.

“It’s getting dangerous, especially for hybrids,” Starlight replied. “There were a few people with firearms, some of them were shooting into the air. There was a torchlight parade with people shouting, ‘End Human Replacement,’ and, ‘We will not be replaced!’ The local police wouldn’t stop them. Apparently there were quite a few local police among the protesters. They finally brought in the Lisbon Port Authority with construction machines to stop the protest when the fighting started.”

“I’ve heard it’s been that way in New York,” River replied. “I don’t think I’m coming back to stay. The Smiths have invited me to stay with them in Hawaii. I think I’m going to give up my apartment and move there.”

“And just what are you going to do with yourself?” Starlight asked, the beginnings of a wicked smile on her face.

“Nothing at all,” River replied. “I’m going to be a beach bum. I don’t even think I’m going to bring anything with me. I’m going to give everything away - maybe bring a nice gown and some shoes for formal parties, but that’s it. You remember what Dad said about owning nothing but the suit he was wearing? I like that idea. Especially since I’ve been living that way for almost a year now.”

Starlight smiled. “I’m having a hard time imagining being such a free spirit. I want my easels, my pens and brushes. And all the paint - I have a fortune tied up in it. But it is so hard to even give a painting away. No one seems to want anything so permanent.”

River shivered a bit, then said. “Have you considered holo-painting? There is a big… Did something just hit the boat?”


Both sisters got up and hurried to the starboard hull where they had heard a definite thump. Something was bobbing in the water and lightly bumping the side of the boat.


“Vuk!! Surrol!!” River called as Starlight unlimbered a 3-meter life-hook from under the gunwale. She fished carefully in the water and was able to partially lift a body from the water.

Seconds later, Surrol took the life-hook from her hands and expertly lifted the body of a young girl from the water. She was limp and quite clearly dead. The fog was starting to roll back a little.

River screamed and pointed - several more bodies were floating in the water. The current was bringing them toward the starboard side of the ‘Ane Moku.

“Captain Makoa!” Vuk called.

“I see them,” the captain called back from the wheelhouse. “I am weighing anchor!” The stocky Hawaiian started the boat’s small inboard electric motor. “I’m going to steer toward them. It looks like some of them might be alive!”

“Scott, Lilinoe,” Vuk called to their other two fellow travelers - a couple from Honolulu. “Can you get one of the lifeboats down into the water?”

“We’re on it,” came the reply from Lilinoe Santos.

Vuk Smith strode across the deck gathering buoys and life preservers into a large net. Starlight Dolphin, catching on to what he was doing, helped him throw the net overboard, where it landed in the water before Scott and Lilinoe Santos could get the lifeboat down into the river.

“The water’s red!” Scott called up as his wife launched the lifeboat.

“See if you can tow that bag of buoys,” Vuk called. “Fasten the dead to the buoys so they don’t sink. Focus on rescuing the living!” He strode over to the port side and unlimbered the other life-hook, then joined Surrol in pulling more bodies out of the Hudson River.


Both Vuk and Surrol were far stronger than any vulcan - they combined the native strength of vulcans with the ability of humans (especially Hawaiians) to put on a large amount of muscle mass in response to exercise. This enormous strength became vital, allowing them to gently lift one body after another from the water into the ‘Ane Moku. Starlight and River helped bring the bodies over the side and arranged them on the deck.

“This one is part chelna,” said Starlight - then: “…and he’s still alive!” She began CPR.

River - her face streaked with tears: “They’re all hybrids…” Her face screwed up into a grimace of grief and despair as she tried to find more room on the deck to keep the bodies from being piled on top of one another. “And they’re all children…”


“Oh great Kanaloa…” came Captain Makoa Moi’s voice from the wheelhouse, “There are hundreds of them…”




*’Ane Moku - Hawaiian: “It’s a Ship.”

*Kanaloa - In Hawaiian mythology, the ruler of the underworld.

23.7 (of 15)​

 

[Bynar0110]

Thanks for the kind words!! The Traveller is easily a fan favorite of all STNG aliens.



And now we have a name for the Saloon... Thanks!! rbs

. The Lionheart Saloon is for those who run away.

 

[Will The Serious]

What an episode. Very sad. Unfortunately, as history has taught us, not beyond the realm of human capacity.

-Will

 

[Bynar0110]

Very sad episode.

Does Alien Bob have a friend named Alien Chuck?

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

What an episode. Very sad. Unfortunately, as history has taught us, not beyond the realm of human capacity.

Very sad episode...

A good moment for me to call back something that Julian Bashir said:

Bashir paused, his back to Irons, his voice much softer. “There is much worse to come, Minerva. Section 31 has protected the Federation from its greatest threat - humanity - for generations. I am withdrawing that protection. I will stand by and let human nature take its course.”

Every word Julian says is dripping with foreshadowing...

...Does Alien Bob have a friend named Alien Chuck?

...Um, no... Thanks!! rbs

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 8: Mercenaries

23.8
Mercenaries​

Four Star Fleet officers were gathered in Rear Admiral Chekov’s office, situated directly below the bridge of the U.S.S. Milky Way. Captain Kenneth Dolphin was introducing them to a friendly looking man with a light brown beard whose image was displayed on the viewer.


“Johnny - this is Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov, now commanding the 6th Fleet, Captain Sagittarius Hunter of the U.S.S. Prowler and Captain Red of the U.S.S. Intrepid.”

“Thanks Kenny,” Johnny replied. “You can tell them about me after we end transmission. I prefer to limit access to my details. So, as I was telling Kenny, and I previously told Star Fleet Intelligence, our information tells us that there are 10,000 well trained cardassian mercenaries on Weythan - either there or on their way. We also know the cardassians have at least two more Keldon class cruisers and a new line of relatively small but powerful and versatile destroyers. You can bet there will be some cardassian shipping near Weythan. And they’re using old Horo class cloaking devices - no doubt hand-me-downs from the romulans. They’ve also put those same cloaks on the orbital defense platforms.”

“Why the hell doesn’t Star Fleet Intelligence know this?” asked Chekov, immediately furious.

“I personally know that Star Fleet Intelligence does know this information,” Johnny said with a somewhat rueful smile. “I told them. But what makes you think they’re going to tell you about it?”


“What???” Chekov was apoplectic.


“I’m sorry Serge, but if I made you mad it’s because you should be,” Johnny retorted calmly. “Over the past two years SFI has become a black hole. Information goes in. Nothing gets out. Information is dispensed on a need to know basis - whoever doesn’t need the information doesn’t get it. The people who do need to know, are also never told.”

“And your authority in all of this?” Chekov asked.

“Kenny will explain - but not on a subspace channel. I am just Johnny. And better if you lot weren’t in uniform and were just Serge, Red, Kenny and… Sagittarius?”

“Sage,” replied Captain Hunter.

“Sage,” Jonny repeated. “I like that. That’s a great name. I have to admit I’m a bit envious. Kenny, you know that knowing they’re using Horo class cloaks gives you a tremendous advantage, right?”

“Vulcan Science Academy…” Dolphin replied. Captains Red and Hunter looked at him quizzically.

“Yes…” Chekov mused.

“I heard good things about you, Serge,” Johnny said. “Maybe if you can find your way into SFI, things will get better for the Federation. It would be a loss for Space Command. But I’d really like to have someone high up in Star Fleet Intelligence that I can trust. Kenny, you’re not going to leave the front door open while you’re working the garden gate…”

“We have a backup plan, Johnny,” Dolphin said. “But given recent history, I need a confirmation from you. You should have twice what we have. I need you to send me a message - just two words. ‘They’re here.’ If I don’t get your message, we’ll know something’s gone wrong.”

“When?” asked Johnny.

“Ten hours. No more,” Dolphin replied. “Four and Seven.”

Chekov looked sharply at Dolphin. Dolphin held up the first finger of his right hand.

“Speed is of the essence for you as well, Serge,” said Johnny. “Cardassians are tough out in the open. When they go to ground and dig in, it will become very expensive to dig them out.”

“Thank you, Johnny, this has been a very enlightening discussion,” Chekov said. “Hopefully the follow-on discussion will be equally enlightening,” he added, looking at Dolphin.

“Kenny, you know how to reach me,” Johnny said.

“Blue,” Dolphin responded.

With that, Johnny closed his end of the subspace communication.


All eyes turned toward Captain Dolphin.

“Okay, Kenny,” said Chekov, “What did we just see? Who were we just talking to?”

“Whom,” whispered Captain Hunter, under his breath, earning a snort from Captain Red and a dirty look from Chekov.

“One of the things JAG does is develop confidential sources,” said Kenny. “Usually for probative purposes, but sometimes we stumble into a major intelligence resource. Our former civilian investigator, the late Lynhart Shran, developed a relationship with a Special Agent for the Trantor Police Department, Intelligence Division. That was him, Johnny Canada. He’s now their Deputy Director for Offworld Operations. Which makes him, I think, the third ranking officer in TPDID. He tries to keep that as quiet as possible to give him room to operate, so he’s just Johnny to us, especially on a subspace channel.”

“So that’s why you told him the fourth and seventh fleets would be at Cun Ling, Yes?” Chekov mused.

“Considering what happened to the sixth fleet during the Fall of Vulcan…” Dolphin added.

“We need independent confirmation Cun Ling is protected or we need to split the sixth fleet,” Chekov concluded.

“We got a lot more than that,” Dolphin observed. “Star Fleet cannot get involved in internal affairs for the vulcans or the andorians, but we have a mandate to eject cardassian military forces. The cardassians use interceptors - which Star Fleet will need to remove from Weythan. Anyone who shoots at us while we’re doing that is fair game. And we need to deal with those cardassian war ships. We’re going to need a vulcan science ship – one with the best available subspace sensor array. Can you get us one of those?”

“I can arrange for that,” Chekov responded.

“We will also need a ferengi merchant ship to resupply our photon torpedoes and provide protection for that vulcan ship – and I know just where to get one of those,” Dolphin added. “Sage, I suggest we leave the Prowler group here in case we need to re-route you to defend Cun Ling. Once we get confirmation that the fourth and seventh fleets are on station in the A Boo system, we’ll call you in.”

“We’ll leave the Galaxy, the Scorpion and the Vigilant with you so you have some eyes, ears and teeth in case you need them,” said Chekov.


Captain Red was fuming. “If there are cloaked cardassian vessels in Federation space, then they’re setting up an ambush.”


“Treaty violation,” Captain Saggitarius Hunter added. “And according to both the Khitomer Accords and the Treaty of Cardassia Prime, cloaked cardassian military vessels in Federation space are to be treated as actively engaged in hostilities.”

“Meaning turnabout is fair play,” Dolphin concluded.


Rear Admiral Chekov shook his head slowly, smiled grimly. “Yes it is. Red, get with Suparman about a Vulcan Science Academy ship with capabilities for seeing through those old Horo class cloaking devices. Kenny, Sage - get with your people about what to do with that information. I want a detailed attack plan on my desk within the hour.” Chekov got up, brought his hands together with a clap. “Now people - move!”


“Why a ferengi merchant ship?” asked Captain Red as the three captains were exiting Chekov’s office.

“The cardassians won’t shoot at a ferengi ship,” Captain Sagittarius Hunter replied. “That’s where they get their weapons from.”

23.8 (of 15)​

 

[Will The Serious]

Intense planning room action. It is hard to picture Chekov moving to SFI, but if he could move SFI to him.

Love this type of action. The story is told with ideas shooting across the planning board. Energy and focus is given to what comes next, and intelligence clarifies the past events all in one scene.

-Will

 

[Bynar0110]

Spoonheads with cloaking abilities.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Intense...Love this type of action...

Thanks for the kind words - glad you're enjoying! Thanks! rbs

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 9: The Trillian Ultimatum

23.9
The Trillian Ultimatum​

Siev th’Stavin had the burden of bringing both the good news and the bad news to his friend and mentor.

Federation Councilmember Emory Ivonovic was already pretty much aware of the good news. Ivonovic stood up from behind his desk and ushered th’Stavin to the library area of his office. He retrieved a bottle of andorian ale from the shelf and poured some for the ambitious andorian bureaucrat.


“I can tell from your antennae that something is wrong. Very wrong,” Ivonovic said. Siev’s antennae were so agitated they appeared to be wrestling with each other.

“First, you deserve to know that you won by a wide margin,” said th’Stavin. “You will need to move to Caracas by November 1.”

“Out with it, Siev,” said Ivonovic. “What is it that has you so upset?”

“I think it’s better that I show you…” th’Stavin activated a large viewscreen.

“I don’t recognize the city,” said Ivonovic.

“Leran Manev on Trillus Prime. That’s the United Federation of Planets building on the left and then the Trill Senate Tower…” th’Stavin said. There was a bright light as both buildings were repeatedly bombed from above, testing their shielding systems. Explosions inside both buildings just moments later brought down their shielding systems and a second round of bombing reduced both buildings to rubble.

Ivonovic closed his eyes, grimaced and took a deep breath. “How many?”

“Estimates are just over 7,000,” th’Stavin replied. “The Trill Senate was in session - an address by the primary administrator…”

“Which means all of the ambassadors, most of the Trill government, probably at least a dozen symbionts…” Ivonovic sank slowly into a chair.

“That’s just the start,” said th’Stavin.

The image of an older male trill, clad in some rather garish sort of military uniform, appeared on the screen. “I am General Hialal Mulaax. The illegal body purporting to be the legitimate government of the trill people has been obliterated, as have the representatives of our terran oppressors and many of their allies. Trillus Prime is now free. The Federation must withdraw all Federation assets and personnel within three days or forfeit them to the Trillian Master Forces. My people are disciplined, but we have grown weary of alien domination of our world and Federation greed for our resources. You do not want to leave your people here on Trillus. Three days. And the traitors who claim to represent Trillus for their Federation masters must be returned to us to stand trial. They will want to return if they care about their families.”


Ivonovic was on his feet and clearly furious. He strode to his desk and hit the intercom switch. “Joanna, please get me President Rodriguez.” He walked back to the library area where Siev th’Stavin was standing. Ivonovic put a hand on the andorian bureaucrat’s shoulder. “Siev, I want you to come to Caracas with me.”

“As your liaison to the Andorian Empire?”

“As my chief of staff.”

Joanna Trevor’s voice came over the intercom: “Sir, President Maria Rodriguez for you…”

“On screen,” said Ivonovic. The image of a plump, middle-aged Mexican woman appeared on the screen.

“I was anticipating your call, Mr. President-Elect,” said Rodriguez. “I only wish my term were already over. Four hundred children floating in the Hudson River, race riots on Rising Sun, sections of Lower Trantor under martial law, cardassian mercenaries on Weythan, bombings on New Hope, and now a military coup on Trillus Prime…”

“Unfortunately, Madam President, we can’t wait until November to act.”

“Emory, can you come to Caracas now? We need to coordinate so that there is an orderly handover. I don’t mind telling you - war with the Romulan Empire, I was prepared for. But open rebellions within the Federation… How did it come to this?”

“We weren’t prepared for it,” Ivonovic responded. “We don’t have the tools to deal with it at the Federation level. If it was just one local issue or another… But it isn’t. I have a feeling this is just the tip of the iceberg. Maria, it’s 17 hours 21 here in Nairobi - that makes it 10:21 there in Caracas? I can be there by noon your time, can you have an office ready for me? Nothing fancy - three desks and a communication system. I will bring two people with me.” Ivonovic looked at th’Stavin - “Siev, you will come?”

“Of course,” the andorian bureaucrat responded.

“Tell Joanna she’s coming too. I need to gather a few things…”

“And General Mulaax?” asked President Rodriguez.

Ivonovic turned to the viewscreen. “Eh… He’s been plotting his little takeover for years. He can wait a few hours to hear from us. Let him sweat a little.”

“I will look forward to your arrival, Emory.” Maria Rodriguez signed out.

Siev th’Stavin had already left.

Ivonovic stuck his head out of the door that led to his outer office and reception area. Joanna Trevor had already gotten up from her desk.

“Joanna - I need you to put in one more call for me before you grab your go-bag…”

23.9 (of 15)​

 

[Bynar0110]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 9: The Trillian Ultimatum

23.9
The Trillian Ultimatum​

Siev th’Stavin had the burden of bringing both the good news and the bad news to his friend and mentor.

Federation Councilmember Emory Ivonovic was already pretty much aware of the good news. Ivonovic stood up from behind his desk and ushered th’Stavin to the library area of his office. He retrieved a bottle of andorian ale from the shelf and poured some for the ambitious andorian bureaucrat.


“I can tell from your antennae that something is wrong. Very wrong,” Ivonovic said. Siev’s antennae were so agitated they appeared to be wrestling with each other.

“First, you deserve to know that you won by a wide margin,” said th’Stavin. “You will need to move to Caracas by November 1.”

“Out with it, Siev,” said Ivonovic. “What is it that has you so upset?”

“I think it’s better that I show you…” th’Stavin activated a large viewscreen.

“I don’t recognize the city,” said Ivonovic.

“Leran Manev on Trillus Prime. That’s the United Federation of Planets building on the left and then the Trill Senate Tower…” th’Stavin said. There was a bright light as both buildings were repeatedly bombed from above, testing their shielding systems. Explosions inside both buildings just moments later brought down their shielding systems and a second round of bombing reduced both buildings to rubble.

Ivonovic closed his eyes, grimaced and took a deep breath. “How many?”

“Estimates are just over 7,000,” th’Stavin replied. “The Trill Senate was in session - an address by the primary administrator…”

“Which means all of the ambassadors, most of the Trill government, probably at least a dozen symbionts…” Ivonovic sank slowly into a chair.

“That’s just the start,” said th’Stavin.

The image of an older male trill, clad in some rather garish sort of military uniform, appeared on the screen. “I am General Hialal Mulaax. The illegal body purporting to be the legitimate government of the trill people has been obliterated, as have the representatives of our terran oppressors and many of their allies. Trillus Prime is now free. The Federation must withdraw all Federation assets and personnel within three days or forfeit them to the Trillian Master Forces. My people are disciplined, but we have grown weary of alien domination of our world and Federation greed for our resources. You do not want to leave your people here on Trillus. Three days. And the traitors who claim to represent Trillus for their Federation masters must be returned to us to stand trial. They will want to return if they care about their families.”


Ivonovic was on his feet and clearly furious. He strode to his desk and hit the intercom switch. “Joanna, please get me President Rodriguez.” He walked back to the library area where Siev th’Stavin was standing. Ivonovic put a hand on the andorian bureaucrat’s shoulder. “Siev, I want you to come to Caracas with me.”

“As your liaison to the Andorian Empire?”

“As my chief of staff.”

Joanna Trevor’s voice came over the intercom: “Sir, President Maria Rodriguez for you…”

“On screen,” said Ivonovic. The image of a plump, middle-aged Mexican woman appeared on the screen.

“I was anticipating your call, Mr. President-Elect,” said Rodriguez. “I only wish my term were already over. Four hundred children floating in the Hudson River, race riots on Rising Sun, sections of Lower Trantor under martial law, cardassian mercenaries on Weythan, bombings on New Hope, and now a military coup on Trillus Prime…”

“Unfortunately, Madam President, we can’t wait until November to act.”

“Emory, can you come to Caracas now? We need to coordinate so that there is an orderly handover. I don’t mind telling you - war with the Romulan Empire, I was prepared for. But open rebellions within the Federation… How did it come to this?”

“We weren’t prepared for it,” Ivonovic responded. “We don’t have the tools to deal with it at the Federation level. If it was just one local issue or another… But it isn’t. I have a feeling this is just the tip of the iceberg. Maria, it’s 17 hours 21 here in Nairobi - that makes it 10:21 there in Caracas? I can be there by noon your time, can you have an office ready for me? Nothing fancy - three desks and a communication system. I will bring two people with me.” Ivonovic looked at th’Stavin - “Siev, you will come?”

“Of course,” the andorian bureaucrat responded.

“Tell Joanna she’s coming too. I need to gather a few things…”

“And General Mulaax?” asked President Rodriguez.

Ivonovic turned to the viewscreen. “Eh… He’s been plotting his little takeover for years. He can wait a few hours to hear from us. Let him sweat a little.”

“I will look forward to your arrival, Emory.” Maria Rodriguez signed out.

Siev th’Stavin had already left.

Ivonovic stuck his head out of the door that led to his outer office and reception area. Joanna Trevor had already gotten up from her desk.

“Joanna - I need you to put in one more call for me before you grab your go-bag…”

23.9 (of 15)​

Sounds like the start of the clone wars.

 

[Will The Serious]

Sounds like the start of the clone wars.

Or the end of an era.

-Will

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Sounds like the start of the clone wars.

I probably liked Clone Wars and the SW Prequels more than most viewers. One of the frustrations in that story (and also in Babylon 5) was the yawning lack of moral depth to the overarching stories. Clone Wars was far better than the movies in its story writing, but it was still essentially good vs. evil. I'm really trying to tell a story with much more moral complexity. There are few, if any absolute monsters. I prefer each villain to be in pursuit of some overriding moral objective that (for them) justifies the evil they think they must do. Every hero is a monster and every monster a hero.

Or the end of an era.

As you can tell with the fall of Vulcan to the Romulan Senate, I'm not afraid to shake things up in my Trekverse. Kingdom Come is very much an "end of an era" and a passing of the torch. Symbolized by the old leadership of Irons/Pepper/Mlady handing the leadership of the U.S.S. Hunter over to the new guy, Dolphin. But far more sweeping changes are on the way...

Thanks!! rbs

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 10: Space Superiority

23.10
Space Superiority​

“Change of plan: We hit the cardassians at Weythan and then run - all the way to Trillus Prime…” Captain Kenneth Dolphin was meeting with his executive and senior staff in the executive conference room.

“I take it that you have not yet taken this up with Rear Admiral Chekov?” asked Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles, the half-bolian first officer.

“He will hear about this assignment first from Admiral Yasutake,” Dolphin replied. “I prefer to present the admiral solutions instead of problems. I need all of you to provide me those solutions. We need to make short work of the cardassians at Weythan to clear the way for the andorians and vulcans to re-take their respective colonies. There will be plenty of Star Fleet vessels around Weythan, but we need to get there first. I want us to get the party started, establish space superiority, give the joint andorian and vulcan forces a head start on establishing air superiority and then move on to Trillus Prime.” Dolphin looked about at his executive officers and department directors.

Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor shook her head. “With JAG protecting Weythan from the romulans and Space Command tied down protecting worlds all along the romulan border, I can’t imagine how we could put together enough of a fleet to re-take Trillus - even if that were legal. Trillus Prime was not one of the 19 founding worlds, so sections 2 and 29 of the Federation Charter, protecting democratic governments, do not apply.”

“Thank you Gaia, but that is not our problem to solve,” Captain Dolphin replied. “We have been tasked to protect the symbionts, as required by treaty. Their environment is under siege. T’Lon, I need you to come up with a ground game. We will take five other Prowler class ships with us. Select the ships you want based on their crews, particularly their ground operations departments. Dr. Marks,” Dolphin turned toward the new assistant director of flight operations. “We do not yet have a director of flight operations, so you are acting in that role. We need a plan to provide air support for the symbionts.” He turned to look at his director of engineering. “Dr. Moon, I need your team working on how to harden the symbionts’ defenses. We need some staying power to this plan - it will probably be a few weeks before we can expect significant relief.”


Dolphin returned his gaze to his acting flight operations director. 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks had thin, sharp features that betrayed a mixture of human, klingon and romulan heritage. There was a belligerence to her dark eyes that matched her clipped, precise accent, but was at odds with her non-stop, nervous, twitchy movements.

“Lieutenant Marks,” said Dolphin. “Is your department ready for a fight? Because you’re about to get two fights in one day.”

“I am ready,” Marks responded.

“We, Marks. We,” Dolphin corrected. “Your pilots are about to see action. A lot of it. Gamor, you’re in the chair. Marks, you’re flying the tactical unit. Gaia – you make the rest of the assignments, but I need T’Lon working on the Trillus plan. Napoleon and I will coordinate the attack from my office. T’Lon – you have fifteen minutes to tell me which ships you want for the Trillus mission.”

Without missing a beat, the vulcan director of ground operations replied. “I want the Tracker, the Trapper, the Fowler, the Birder and the Inspector.”

“Excellent,” Dolphin replied. “Napoleon, ring them up and give them the good news. I need to talk to Serge.” Dolphin thumped the table with two fingers and stood up. “Let’s go!”

23.10 (of 15)​

 

[Bynar0110]

Excellent chapter RBS

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 11: The Venus Incident

23.11
The Venus Incident​

Even before First Contact, Earth scientists had realized that Venus could be terraformed with less effort and far more sustainability than Mars.


The first step in terraforming Venus would be to introduce chemical agents that would explosively cool and quickly transform the atmosphere from a poisonous soup (from the standpoint of terrestrial life) into an environment that could, over the amazingly short period of a hundred years, be tamed and transformed by terrestrial plant life into a breathable atmosphere. The first few moments of such a transformation would release a tremendous amount of energy that would obliterate any native life on Venus. Residue from the initial explosion would remain in the upper atmosphere, reflecting a portion of the sun’s energy back into space, to make the planet habitable for terrestrial life.


The problem with terraforming Venus was primarily an ethical one: Mars was dead. Native life had little or no future because of the lack of a planetary magnetosphere. Venus, on the other hand, was very much alive and if there was already life there, a preponderance of ethicists held that the human race had no right to the planet and should allow its biosphere to evolve unmolested.


Terraforming Mars presented the scant native Martian life with a future and potential for growth in symbiosis with transplants from Earth. When simple, single-celled lifeforms were discovered in the boiling hell of the Venusian atmosphere, it was immediately clear that terraforming Venus would be an act of genocide against a unique biosphere rich with potential for rapid development.

Further research by Star Fleet into the native life on Venus revealed a rich diversity of interrelated and symbiotic macroscopic lifeforms, some living and breeding in the middle atmosphere and never touching the ground. Amazing flora of some sort rapidly grew to thousands of kilograms on the edges of rivers of magma. This science was changing assumptions about the beginnings of life not only on Earth but in general.

Research into how to transform Venus into a world that could be colonized by terrestrial life – via an irreversible cascade effect – received continued support from Earth First groups long after the Federation Council and United Earth Governments had passed a joint resolution declaring Venus to be a protected world. Following the requirements of the joint resolution, no life forms were to be introduced to Venus. But sterilized robots were sent in to learn more. Recent robotic expeditions found that some Venusian life forms had consumed earlier robots, incorporated their components and were even beginning to trade some of these refined products. This discovery kicked off a fierce debate within the exobiology community and in philosophical circles whether this behavior constituted evidence of intelligent life.





Federation President-Elect Emory Ivonovic, his newly appointed Chief of Staff, Siev th’Stavin, and his longtime personal secretary and now paralegal, Joanna Trevor, had been crowded into a corner office in the basement of the United Federation of Planets Administration Building #1 in Caracas, Venezuela. The presidential suite was on the 5th floor. The top three floors were filled with security. The UFP Administrative Park held 51 buildings that comprised the bulk of Federation administrative functions – although many of these functions were duplicated in smaller facilities on many federation worlds.

Ivonovic and his loyal staff of two spent almost as much time in the presidential suite with President Maria Rodriguez and her staff as they did in their tiny, hastily converted office. They were meeting with a rather alarmed delegation from the colony on Rising Sun about race riots and lynchings that had claimed well over a hundred lives when the building’s security system went to red alert.

The alert klaxon was extremely loud and clearly designed to make conversation impossible. Security personnel flooded into the room to crash both the president and the president-elect. Their lunch party was brought to the T’Plana-Hath room – the primary office of the president.


“This is no drill,” President Maria Rodriguez said to Ivonovic as she took her place behind her desk. “I am always alerted to scheduled drills…”

A young vulcan, one of many presidential aides, was admitted to the room. He dashed over to the president and whispered in her ear. Rodriguez’s eyes widened. “Ceiling viewer, sky, protected mode,” she said.

The entire ceiling of the president’s office was a viewer and the late afternoon sky was suddenly projected. The sun was muted so that it could be looked at safely. A few degrees from the sun, a very bright point was vacillating, growing brighter, then gradually dimming. A visual chart beside it displayed a brightness meter, indicating it was briefly glowing much brighter than the sun itself.

“What is that?” th’Stavin asked.

“A starship – a warp core breach?” asked Ivonovic. “Are we under attack?”

Maria Rodriguez was leaned back in her chair, staring at it. Then she sat forward and put her head in her hands. The room was silent.


President Rodriguez took a deep breath, looked up at Ivonovic, her expression equal parts shock and grief.


“It’s Venus…”

23.11 (of 15)

​

Author's Note: I took some liberties with Venus. Venus is, as far as we can tell, a very dead world, bereft of the molten core that powers and protects our own planet. There are no rivers of magma. Of course, I found these things out some time after writing this scene.​

 

[Bynar0110]

The planet of love just went praxis.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 12: First Strike at Weythan

23.12
First Strike at Weythan​

A ferengi marauder, the F.M.S. Usotro, arrived in the Weythan system. A few minutes later it was joined by a science vessel from the Vulcan High Command in Exile. The two ships docked. About ten minutes later, three bolian freighters entered orbit of Weythan. Almost at the same moment, sixteen Prowler class starships, including the U.S.S. Hunter, came out of high warp near Weythan, each unleashing a barrage of phaser fire and photon torpedoes at, apparently, nothing, while at the same time launching two long-range interceptors. As their interceptors headed toward the atmosphere, phaser fire and torpedoes from the ships struck cloaked orbital weapons platforms, causing them to explode even as they were coming online.

The individual compartments on the three bolian freighters opened, disgorging two andorian or vulcan heavy interceptors per compartment. Each freighter carried 18 compartments; within five minutes, more than a hundred andorian and vulcan heavy interceptors were following their 32 lighter Star Fleet counterparts into the cold, cloudy atmosphere of Weythan.


At the same moment that the 16 Prowler class ships were offloading their interceptors near Weythan, the tactical units for 8 of those starships came out of high warp in a loose configuration just below the orbital plane of Weythan about 200,000 kilometers from the planet. Another 8 came out of warp just above the orbital plane and, bizarrely, each group of these small, heavily armed attack units fired toward the other. For a brief moment, it appeared these Star Fleet JAG units were attacking each other…

Then a series of explosions in between revealed the unprotected hulls of cloaked cardassian vessels, causing each of the seven cardassian ships to immediately de-cloak and heralding cascades of secondary explosions. The JAG task force’s phasers had been targeted with tremendous accuracy, finding cardassian shield emitters and primary weapons arrays as well as the collector scoops of their nacelles…


Inside the atmosphere of Weythan, Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper was flying an interceptor into live fire for the first time. Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq was riding second seat, targeting the interceptor’s weapons, reviewing telemetry and providing support for the freshman pilot.

“Flack ahead,” said zh’Qaoleq. “Let’s stop short, drop to 15 meters above the deck, then up and forward at 12 degrees, full throttle.”

“Port or starboard?” asked Hopper as she brought the interceptor to a sudden stop. Both pilots grunted as the inertial dampeners were not able to fully compensate for the sudden change in velocity and they were thrown forward against their seat restraints. This was a soft, springy webbing. Even with all these systems to reduce the shock of inertial changes, flying a Star Fleet interceptor to its full potential required peak physical strength and endurance.

“You choose,” zh’Qaoleq replied. “Zig, then zag.”

“You’re not firing on the weapon emplacements?” asked Hopper as she accelerated Interceptor 1.A upward and to port to stay beyond the targeting of those emplacements.

“Just recording their location. They’re not going anywhere,” zh’Qaoleq responded.

At that moment, Flight Specialist Winnifried Salazaar’s voice came through the comm system: “Yellowbird on your tail. Two of them!”

“Give us another dead stop, Hopper,” said zh’Qaoleq. The white Star Fleet interceptor stopped again and two yellow cardassian heavy interceptors flashed by. Thyssi zh’Qaoleq had one of them dialed in and sent a series of phaser blasts after the interceptor she had targeted. Salazaar took off after the other. Hopper brought the Star Fleet interceptor up to full speed in three seconds, again pushing the inertial dampener to its limit, pushing herself and her andorian co-pilot into their seats, rapidly catching up to the cardassian interceptor. At a range of less than 800 meters, zh’Qaoleq scored several successive hits and shredded the yellow cardassian interceptor, sending shards of it all over the barren, cold, forbidding landscape below. “Take us home, Hopper,” said zh’Qaoleq. “Winnie, back to the barn!” she added. “Dock check on arrival then four hours sack time. We go again in nine,” concluded the andorian master pilot as both of the Hunter’s interceptors headed directly skyward.


“All interceptor pilots be aware, you have three minutes to get out of the way,” came Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles’ voice over the comm systems of all Star Fleet, Andorian Imperial Guard, and Vulcan High Command interceptors. “Begin countdown…”

“Not enough time to get back into the barn,” said Thyssi. “Let’s go high, keep an eye to the sky and watch the show.”

Well over a hundred interceptors fled Weythan’s atmosphere and flew out beyond the platforms of the 16 Prowler class ships. As the silent countdown, reflected in the control panels of each ship, reached zero, each ship opened up with simultaneous phaser fire, pinpointing the gun emplacements that had fired on the interceptors just moments previously.

“And there go those ground gun emplacements,” said zh’Qaoleq. “That’s why we just recorded where those were and passed that data back to our home ships. Our job was to knock down anything the cardassians were flying. Okay, they’re done and coming back,” she added as the Hunter (sans its tactical unit) cleared Weythan’s atmosphere. “Now we can dock.”

Napoleon Boles’ voice came back over the comm system of selected interceptors. “Interceptors for the U.S.S. Hunter task force sub-group T, please dock immediately. Sub-group T, rendezvous at the F.M.S. Usotro as soon as your birds are in their nests. The sixth fleet has just arrived and we have achieved space superiority. Sub-group T will depart for secondary target in twenty minutes.”


About ten minutes later, 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks was met by Lt. Cmdr. Gaia Gamor as she was working with Flight Engineers Thomas Hobbs and Tomos to load replacement photon torpedoes from the F.M.S. Usotro onto the U.S.S. Hunter.

“We got superb telemetry from that vulcan science ship,” said Marks. “They must have seen right through those antique romulan cloaking devices the cardassians were using - both on their ships and the orbital weapons platforms. But why didn’t the cardassians destroy that vulcan ship? They must have known there was a chance the vulcan sensors could see them.”

“That’s our captain’s influence at work,” Gamor replied. “Damon Trock of the Ferengi Merchant Ship Usotro does a lot of jobs for the Irons family. Captain Dolphin reached out to Ushi Irons and arranged for Trock to be here to resupply our photon torpedoes but also to serve as protection for the vulcans. With that vulcan ship docked to a ferengi merchant vessel, the cardassians couldn’t attack without making enemies of the ferengi - and thereby cutting off their supply of weapons.”

“And we get a double value from taking out that many cardassian ships,” Gamor continued. “Those were military vessels. Mercenary actions like this is how they are paying for their civil war against the DeTappa Council. We just put a big hole in their ability to pay for that war. It may have tilted the scales in favor of the civilian authority on Cardassia. We couldn’t get directly involved in their civil war, but if the rump military command wants to send cloaked ships into Federation space, we are well within our rights to shoot first and ask questions later.”

“What do you think they’re going to do with those ships?” asked Marks.

“Fix them up and return them to the legitimate government of the Cardassian Union,” Gamor replied. “At least that’s what I would do. Two were destroyed in the initial attack?”

“Those new destroyers,” Marks replied. “I know how to disable those aging cruisers in an ambush, but I were just guessing with those newer, smaller ships. They weren’t as tough or as advanced as we had projected. Apparently cardassian military technology hasn’t fared well since the Dominion war. Or their doctrine and training. They should have dropped their cloaks and raised their shields the moment they saw that Vulcan Science Academy ship enter the system… since they weren’t willing to shoot it down.” Marks shook her head. “We came in loaded for bear and ended up knocking over a bunch of tomato cans.”

23.12 (of 15)​

 

[Bynar0110]

I really enjoyed the dogfighting scenes.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 13: Sanctuary

23.13
Sanctuary​

Jeene Boel and her children were on the run. Facial surgery had removed the evidence of bajoran ancestry from their faces. But records of their nose jobs had been kept and this information had now fallen into the hands of the newly minted Trillian Master Forces – renegade elements of the Trill military that had staged a coup under the leadership of General Hialal Mulaax. Jeene’s husband, Rumor Boel, was a trill intern with the Vulcan High Command, most of whom had been killed in the hours after the destruction of the planetary government district in western Laren Manev. A vulcan science ship had evacuated all surviving personnel, including Rumor, but had been unable to locate the remainder of the Boel family due to interference from Trillian military vessels.

It was astounding how quickly a bureaucracy had been put in place to check documents and control the trill population. While light skin was common among all trills, those with strong spotting along their necks were considered somehow to be the epitome of trill evolution. Those whose spots were very light were thought of as some sort of bastard race while those whose spots covered most of their bodies were thought to be little more than animals. This racial prejudice had been suppressed for generations and had only returned to the surface during a few short-lived periods of military domination.

Despite the best efforts of the trill government, the military still relegated trills with less than preferred spotting characteristics to support roles with the rationalization that restricting membership in fighting units to preferred trills fostered unit cohesion and morale on the battlefield. While never called on to actually fight, the military had used the Cardassian War, the Borg Incursions and the War with the Dominion to increase its resourcing and recruitment.



The Vulcan High Command in Exile had provided the Boel family with false documents showing them to be from an undiluted preferred bloodline, despite their bajoran heritage. But the sporthogs would know better. The Trillian Master Force had sporthogs that were trained to sniff out hybrid trills - and were being used to round up hybrids and send them to internment camps.

Jeene and her son and daughters were waiting in line at a checkpoint when the sporthogs were brought out. Simple possession of the false documents would mean a death sentence for her and her children. She gathered her children, broke out of line and ran. They were so close to the Cave of the Symbionts – one of very few safe places and the one she had trained herself and her children to run to in case of danger.

It took only a few moments for her young family to dodge among the houses of this small village into a broad field of siplar grasses – the most common and versatile agricultural product on Trillus Prime. While tall enough to conceal their presence, the grasses also betrayed the Boels’ location as they ran. Not that it mattered to the sporthogs. They were following a scent and bellowing their love for the hunt. Trillian Master Force soldiers, riding individual hover-scooters, followed the sporthogs. These vehicles were dangerous to ride cross-country at high speeds, but low speeds were sufficient to catch runners.


Jeene and her children made it to the edge of the field, which was bounded on this side by a ravine and a shallow creek. No longer hindered by the tall grasses, they could finally run with all their effort, but the sporthogs broke free shortly after and would catch the family before they made it across the creek.

Just as she was despairing for her children, Jeene saw a strange creature in a red uniform stand up from the ravine, pointing a massive rifle at her. The gun barrel lit up like a star and made a nasty, spitting, belching sound. She could smell the charred air as a plasma burst from this gun passed close to her face. A few yards in front of her, a fat, powerful sporthog had caught up with her oldest daughter, Jet, and was about to leap onto her – its head lowered to skewer her with its tusks. A second plasma burst from the strange man’s rifle picked the hog off its feet and threw it backward while simultaneously roasting much of the loud, smelly beast.

Jeene rushed past the strange man and was helping her children across the creek before it registered with her that he had not been shooting at her, but had instead quickly and expertly gunned down the four sporthogs that had been chasing her family and was now involved in a gun battle with surprised trill soldiers. While the five pursuing trill soldiers thought of themselves as an elite unit, they had never actually fought anyone who shot back at them before. Now they found themselves engaged with a battle-hardened veteran armed with what was essentially a cannon. He made short work of them.


The Boel family had run a few dozen yards beyond the creek, but stopped there to catch their breath. The odd looking soldier effortlessly hopped the creek and walked toward them. His red uniform was dirty and torn. Jeene was now able to recognize it as a Star Fleet uniform, but she had no idea what kind of man was in it. His face was covered with dark blonde fur and he had more of a snout with pronounced incisors instead of a mouth and nose. Large, dark sunglasses obscured his eyes. Bushels of dark blonde hair cascaded from the top of his head almost to his knees. The setting sun picked out red highlights in his hair and fur. Where his uniform was torn, more tawny fur instead of skin was revealed. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he was broad and carried the massive plasma rifle – a gun that looked like it belonged on a stand – casually slung over his shoulder as if it were a toy. He walked with the casual swagger of someone who only rarely spent time indoors. He seemed half man, half beast.


Jeene had never seen anything so heroic in her life.


“You are already on sanctified ground,” said the furry soldier – his voice a low rumble. “If my readings were right, we are not far from the rear entrance to the sanctuary.”

“Where did you come from?” Jeene asked.

“Deep Space 9. My interceptor was shot down. I destroyed it, but I kept this plasma cannon.” He patted the gun on his shoulder.

“I am Jeene Boel. My husband is with the Vulcan High Command. My daughters, Jet, Tana and Illa. My son, Car,” said Jeene.

“You are part bajoran. You’ve had surgery to disguise the nose ridges – your children too,” said the soldier. “If you are ready, you should follow me to the sanctuary.”

“How did you know?” asked Jeene, gathering her children and following.

“I could smell it. And I could see the slightly different skin tone around the surgeries.”

“Would you tell me who you are?”

“Lieutenant Grorher. I was assigned to help design the new bajoran interceptors and train their pilots. The bajorans are smart. They’re using the lighter, Star Fleet design. But they get a little extra staying power in a dogfight with a backup pair of rear-facing plasma cannons.” He patted the gun on his shoulder again. “This is pretty much the only part of my interceptor that wasn’t destroyed. But I brought down 14 trill interceptors in one day. Still, I’m not happy about losing my entire wing. They were good people – all twelve of them. None of them survived. We needed orbital support.”


Grorher fell silent as twilight turned to night. He led the small family into the tree line, pausing occasionally to look carefully around the trees. They had been walking for well over an hour when he stooped suddenly beside a tree and carefully pulled ivy aside, revealing a door. “This is it. Stay behind me. There are guards. We will be challenged several times.”

“How did you see that?” asked Jet, the oldest daughter. She was taller than her mother, but very much a gangling teenager.

Grorher turned toward her. His sunglasses were hanging around his neck by a lanyard. Moonlight briefly glinted in his eyes, making them glow, giving him a demonic appearance. “My people hunt by night. Sleep by day. Or we used to.” He opened the door. “Stop just inside. You will want me to go in front.”

23.13 (of 15)

​

Author's Note: This scene was inspired by the song "Silent Running" by Mike and the Mechanics.​