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Star Trek Hunter - Episode 3: Breakfast Serial

Review: Scenes 8 & 9 - Well, Ivonovic appears far from defeated and it seems he has powerful allies who will attempt to intervene on his behalf. I don't envy Admiral Burton her task.

Excellent attention to detail and a quick, correct response by all parties looks to have defeated the governor's first escape attempt. My guess is that this was but the first probing attack by his mysterious benefactors.

I'm enjoying the continuity of the story with the callbacks to previous incidents as the tale moves forward into the investigation of the serial killer.
 
Review: Scene 10 - What a wonderful gift T'Lon has given Dolphin. He's been embraced by this crew of largely hybrids, despite having authored a paper commonly believed to demonize their very existence (although that appears to be a mistaken interpretation).

I love this very genuine and gracious moment between two well-drawn characters.
 
Review: Scenes 8 & 9 - ...I'm enjoying the continuity of the story with the callbacks to previous incidents as the tale moves forward into the investigation of the serial killer.

Review: Scene 10 - ...I love this very genuine and gracious moment between two well-drawn characters.

Thanks for the insightful reviews and the kind words!!

Emory Ivonovic is a series regular with (what I hope you'll find to be) a thoroughly counter-intuitive through-line...

Thanks!! rbs
 
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Star Trek Hunter

Episode 3: Breakfast Serial
Scene 11: Assassins

3.11
Assassins

“Lieutenant Dolphin - good first ride - a fifteen meter wave,” came a voice inside Dolphin’s chest. It was Justice Minerva Irons, coming through the communicator embedded in his chest. Dolphin had not gotten used to this device - it was not in general use by Star Fleet - only by some special forces units. Justice Irons had insisted on using it for her entire crew.

“Come to the investigations office, Mr. Dolphin. I’m afraid I’m about to spoil the rest of your day...”

Dolphin looked and could see Justice Irons standing on the balcony. He patted Pep on the chest. “Got to run,” he said and took off toward the main building at a jog, stopping only briefly to put up his board.

It wasn’t until he reached the resort that Dolphin thought it might be a good idea for him to get a shower and exchange his swim trunks for a uniform. Fortunately, someone else had thought about that too and an appropriate uniform was waiting for him.


Justice Irons, Lt. T’Lok Smith, 2nd Lt. Tauk and Investigator Lynhart Shran were waiting for him in the investigations room. Tauk gave a full briefing and brought everyone up to speed.

Irons was the first to comment. “Great work Tauk.” Irons turned toward her director of flight operations. “Dr. Dolphin, I wanted you to hear this from me first. Look at the date stamp of the incident in the initial group listed as incident #1.”

Dolphin had been paying attention throughout the briefing, but his blood was still singing from riding a 50’ wave. He looked at the date stamp, then looked at it again, and felt all the exultation draining out of him. “Six months to the day after my dissertation was republished by the Harvard press.” Dolphin let out a slow sigh and rolled his head to release tension in his neck. “Another of my intellectual step-children,” he continued grimly.

Tauk spoke up. “It isn’t like that, sir. You didn’t make anyone do these awful things. And I’ve done the math - and I’m not the only one. You’re right by the numbers.”

Justice Irons interrupted. “Be that as it may, this is no longer just philosophy. We have a killer to catch. Tauk, I want you to sit on the initial set and focus on the Challenger. They have been under quarantine for nearly three full days now. I am also concerned that our current killer might use news of the initial set of killings to sow confusion. Enough confusion to cover an escape.”

Tauk looked at his captain, perplexed. “You don’t want to notify Star Fleet about them?”

“Not just yet,” Irons responded. “Leave that to me. It is to our advantage to not tip our hand. I will notify the top of the chain - they need to keep that investigation top secret. To that end, I want you to curtail your inquiries into it. Let’s leave killer #1 up to Star Fleet Intelligence and focus on killer #2.”

Dolphin looked up from his dark thoughts: “Killer… No, we’re not dealing with killers.”

Everyone looked at him blankly. Lynhart Shran’s antennae twitched and went up. T’Lok opened her mouth. She couldn’t read Kenny’s mind, but she could tell he was convinced he was on to something. Irons winked at her.


“Not killers,” Dolphin said. “Assassins.”


“What’s the difference?” Tauk asked.

Shran let his fist fall to the table with a thump. “Motive.”

“Right,” Dolphin continued. “When it was just one, we could posit a sociopath. But two, using the same signature and the first one secret for all this time… #2 is not a copycat. They’re not doing this for political reasons or because they have something against trills in particular. They’re getting paid or they’re getting extorted.”

“And just where did you get your investigative chops, Director?” T’Lok asked lightly.

Shran spoke up. “You didn’t know that Mr. Dolphin’s first career was with the District Attorney’s office in New York?”


Everyone looked at Shran.

“Tiny universe,” he continued with his gravelly voice. “I was a detective for the New York City police department for six years. I worked for Lieutenant Dolphin… Lieutenant Linda Dolphin - this fellow’s ex-wife.” Shran turned toward Dolphin. “She said you were the worst assistant district attorney in the history of the office. Low conviction rate. Too damn interested in the truth,” Shran concluded.

“They fired me,” Dolphin said. “So I went back to school and got my Ph.D. in philosophy.”

“And wrote yourself into the history books,” Shran continued, “They should have left well enough alone and put up with your conviction rate.”

“No,” Dolphin replied, “I was miserable in the job. I was about to quit anyway. Anyway - there is a political motive to these killings. But it isn’t the killers - it’s the person, or persons, paying them or extorting them.”

“Which means you can throw out a bundle of assumptions about these killers,” Shran concluded. “Like the idea they have to be trills, or psychopaths - they might be, but they don’t have to be.”

“And the breakfast signature…” T’Lok followed. “A way to communicate to their employer? To let them know who did the deed so they get paid, or rewarded, or the threat held at bay?”

“So how does all this help us with killer #2?” Tauk asked.

“Killer #2 has to be a powerful telepath,” Irons concluded. “Either a vulcan or a betazoid of unusual ability. A vulcan could use a series of mind-melds to implant instructions - but it would have to be someone with far greater ability than I have ever encountered. And they’re attacking the human partner. Humans have far greater resistance to telepathy than trills. Even T’Lon wouldn’t be able to make a human murder their spouse. Or commit suicide. Unless they already wanted to.”

Irons continued, “A betazoid of sufficient power and training could manipulate someone’s mind from long distance in real time - they could be in a cloaked ship or even posted on a nearby planet or asteroid. But the same problem applies. It would take someone of far greater ability than I have ever encountered.”


Dolphin took a sudden breath - hissing between his teeth. “Your honor, we’re not looking for a vulcan. Or a betazoid… We’re looking for a hybrid.”

Tauk picked up on the thought. “A genetically enhanced hybrid - vulcan and betazoid - with all of the telepathic abilities of both species genetically enhanced - the dials turned up as far as they can go. It would take all of those things - multiple mind melds, contact from a distance. Behaviors implanted and then triggered. The victim tries to fight against the implanted behaviors, but there is the telepath, working from afar. Let’s say they’re on Deep Space 9 or Bajor - right in the middle of this pattern. Able to reach to both ends,” the little ferengi continued, “Your honor, I think the Challenger can come out of quarantine. Our killer is not on board. And now we have someone to look for - and a place to start looking.”

3.11 (of 13)​
 
Whoa, a lot to unpack here. It's awful that this ties back to Dolphin's dissertation, but as has been pointed out, he's not personally responsible for the murders.

We have a lot of brilliant minds in one room working on this problem, so I think we can expect a workable plan soon enough. I almost hope they're wrong about their theoretical killer, because such an enhanced hybrid would truly be a nightmare scenario.
 
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Star Trek Hunter
Episode 3: Breakfast Serial
Scene 12: Life is a Beach… (Part 1 of 2)

3.12
Life is a Beach… (Part 1 of 2)

“Thank you for helping out, Chief. You may go back to Ocean if you wish.” The communications system carried Dr. Carrera’s voice from the main bridge to the even more cramped bridge of the tactical unit. Chief Guth was reclined in the pilot’s seat - nothing to do now that the tactical unit was attached to the platform and the re-combined Hunter docked inside Star Base Eleven. But he had enjoyed providing brief guided tours of the cramped tactical bridge to Rear Admiral Burton and several members of her staff.

“Oh I definitely wish, but I’m glad to help, sir,” Dewayne Guth replied. He made his way from the tactical unit to one of the ports and onto SB11. Before heading to a transporter room, he took the opportunity to get a shower and a shave. Guth shaved his head in part to show his spots. He was defiantly proud of his trill heritage even though the spots barely showed up against his dark skin - a legacy of his African American heritage. Most trills were light skinned - those with ancestry from sunnier climes simply had more spots and some were entirely spotted. This was Guth’s mother’s heritage and his spots also covered his entire body.

Within moments of a much needed grooming, Chief Guth was able to find a transporter room and was soon returned to the beam-in booth at the resort on Ocean. Just in time for breakfast.

The Irons family was accustomed to welcoming the Hunter’s crew and had chosen to wait until the morning of their third day on planet. This allowed the crew to work out a lot of their excitement and hit the waves so they wouldn’t be restless. While the ceremony was designed by vulcans, it was designed with Star Fleet crews in mind.


Chief Flight Specialist Dewayne Guth walked out onto the beach in the pre-dawn hour awash in the sound of a collection of well-tuned vulcans chanting solemnly by torch light. He smiled to himself and remembered when Commander David Pepper had treated him and a few other friends to one of the giant first officer’s favorite collections of klingon chants - celebrating the defining moment in klingon mythology - the day the klingons had killed their gods for being petty and troublesome. Which made klingons the most eminently sensible people Guth had ever heard of. Then there were the symbiote birthday celebrations his mother had taken him to, replete with trills chanting stentoriously. And a bajoran religious festival he had witnessed while on Deep Space 9 - complete with chanting bajorans.

“The whole universe is Roman Catholic,” Guth mused to himself. He had heard nearly a dozen different species chanting - for various ceremonial reasons - always in languages that sounded suspiciously like Latin. Even the tiny binars, who communicated in a computer language at tremendous speed that could only be maintained because of the computer implants in their heads, had their own ceremonial chants. Their chanting was very high-pitched and sounded somewhat like Gregorian chants being hummed at a very high speed by a swarm of angry bees. It was an astoundingly irritating sound, but, like most binar communications, mercifully brief - the entire religious ceremony lasting no more than eight seconds.


Chief Guth picked up a glass and sniffed its contents. Whatever it was, it smelled fruity, delicious and extremely alcoholic. The alcohol content must have been enough to loosen a vulcan’s tongue - Guth was getting a contact high just from sniffing it. There weren’t that many people present - maybe forty. The chanting came to an end at the very moment of sunrise and in the growing light, Tamar Irons, Justice Irons’ oldest daughter and Ocean’s planetary administrator, raised her glass.

“My family has farmed these islands for nearly four hundred years. Like my ancestors, I have welcomed many, many Star Fleet crews to this beach and this resort. For nearly three hundred years, only Star Fleet and allied services crews have been allowed to visit this place. But you are not just any crew. You are my mother’s crew and many of you have become great friends. We consider you family and I will say to you what I have never said to any other Star Fleet crew: When your service with Star Fleet is over, you may return to this place and we will find homes for you. Or build them. So again I welcome you, not as the crew of a visiting Star Fleet vessel, but as family. Welcome Home!”

Vulcan speeches rarely elicited cheers, but this one elicited serious cheering, cut short only by the desire of the crew to consume the sparkling, fruity and evidently quite powerful beverages they had been supplied with. Guth drained his glass and headed toward the breakfast table. A great buffet had been spread out, offering foods grown on these islands along with some enormous fish that had been smoked for days.


“Welcome back, Chief,” Lt. Kenneth Dolphin said, on spotting his senior pilot strolling toward the buffet table. Dolphin started to raise his glass, but suddenly looked down at his hand - something was wrong. He wasn’t holding a glass - he was holding a phaser. He had no idea where it came from. Dolphin suddenly found himself at war with his own right hand. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but no sound emerged.

But his scream did not go unheard. Ensign T’Lon dropped her glass, dodged around a few people, leapt over a table and landed in the sand behind Dolphin. Her hands went to his temples - she was already in telepathic contact with him.

Dewayne Guth was frozen where he stood - not with fear. He was a pilot and was trained to evade phaser fire. Something kept him rooted, screaming silently with terror, unable to move or to make a sound. Lt. T’Lok Smith tackled him at tremendous speed, slamming the pilot to the ground and landing on top of him.

As soon as Guth was no longer available as a target, Dolphin, assisted by T’Lon, finally managed to drop the phaser. He was finally able to scream - he fell to his knees, letting out a short, ragged howl of anguish. Behind him, T’Lon, her fingers still on his temples, had also fallen to her knees, gasping with effort.

Lt. Cmdr. Mlady, who had been largely absent from the beach, raced toward them at lightning speed and retrieved the phaser from the ground, then stepped back, a strange look of frustration on her face.

Aware that the danger was over, T’Lok helped Guth to his feet, then hugged him. Guth was badly shaken and hugged back, still shuddering as the adrenaline that had flooded his system started to go sour.

Dolphin lost consciousness and collapsed back into T’Lon’s arms, his head lolling on her shoulder, eyes wide open, staring at the sky, seeing nothing. T’Lon kept one hand on his face, maintaining telepathic contact, a grimace of pain on her face. Another vulcan knelt in front of them, placing one hand on Dolphin’s face and one hand on T’Lon’s face, helping to stabilize them with her own mind. T’Lon’s expression of pain relaxed and she allowed the other vulcan to support her and the unconscious Lt. Dolphin.

3.12 (of 13)​
 
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Star Trek Hunter
Episode 3: Breakfast Serial
Scene 13: Life is a Beach… (Part 2 of 2)

3.13
Life is a Beach… (Part 2 of 2)

Investigator Buttans Ngumbo drained his glass slowly - any attempt to drink it too quickly would have made him choke. His partner and mentor, Investigator Lynhart Shran stood next to him, his arm around the shoulders of his latest girlfriend, Tactical Specialist Belo Cantys. Buttans had no idea why the old man was so popular with the ladies. In the four years Buttans had worked with Shran he had seen the old man in many relationships - all of which ended either quickly or badly - sometimes both. But this time seemed different. Not so much because of Shran as because of Cantys. Shran had saved her life more than once and she clearly had no intention of letting him slip away at this point. Buttans was rather impressed.

His chain of thought was interrupted by a commotion near the buffet table. He saw Ensign T’Lon leaping over a table, but it still took a few moments for him to put together what was happening. Shran figured it out first. Cantys leapt forward to help her commanding officer, but Shran caught her by the shoulder, delaying her. She turned and gave him an aggressive look.

“Kid,” Shran said, “Don’t let anyone break that mind-meld. Stop anyone who tries - you got that?”

Cantys boggled at him, then turned and raced off, clambering around or over anyone who got in her way.

“Kid,” Shran said. Buttans could tell by the old man’s tone of voice that he was now the one being addressed. “Go get the judge. I need to talk to her. Fast!”

Buttans had come to trust Shran’s instincts. The old man had served as a sniper for the Andorian Imperial Guard for more than thirty years - his instincts had been honed on the battlefields of a dozen worlds. Buttans ran toward Justice Minerva Irons, sprinting across the sand at a speed that would give a gazelle an inferiority complex.


“Your honor,” Buttans said as he got close. It was enough to make Irons stop and turn. Shran caught up a few seconds later.

“Boss,” he managed, his voice ragged with the effort of running at full tilt only a few dozen yards. Shran stopped and bent over, catching his breath. “Boss,” he managed again, wheezing.

Justice Irons stepped up to Shran and put her hand on his back. “Investigator…” she said.

“It’s Dolphin. And Tauk. You have to get them to Earth. All of us, you have to get all of us to Earth,” Shran’s voice was far more gravelly than usual. He stopped to cough and wheeze.

Irons had not spent much time with the Investigator, but he was widely liked and even more widely respected. Her youngest daughter by Mavar was standing next to her. “China,” Irons said, “Go check on Tamar and T’Lon.”

“Don’t let anyone break that mind-meld,” Shran managed.

“And don’t let anyone break that mind-meld,” Justice Irons repeated, placing her hand briefly on her daughter’s chest.

Irons smiled at the old investigator who was still catching his breath. “Conference mode, Shran, Buttans, Pepper, Gamor. Lieutenant Carrera…” The communicator embedded in her chest linked with the people she named.

“Lieutenant Carrera,” she repeated. “How long before the Hunter can be ready to break orbit for Earth?”

“Give me a moment, your Honor,” Dr. Carrera responded, then went silent for a moment. About a minute later, he responded again: “About two hours, probably less. But we will have to complete upgrades when we get to Earth. Some of the work can be done along the way.”

“Make it ready, Lieutenant,” Irons said, “End conference mode.” She turned toward Shran, who had finally caught his breath, more or less. “Okay Investigator, what is this about, why do we have to go to Earth?”

Shran’s unusually large antennae were twitching. Buttans realized they had started twitching this way about the same time all the commotion had begun. “You can’t feel it, boss?” Shran asked.

Irons lifted an eyebrow, “Let’s avoid pronouns for a moment, Mr. Shran. Feel what?”

“We’re being scanned,” the old man responded. “I guess you don’t have much telepathic ability. I’m only half andorian, I don’t have that much either. But we can tell when we’re being scanned and defend our minds against it. You need to summon whatever defenses you can. T’Lok too. For the moment we don’t have to worry about Dolphin - we do have to worry about Tauk. I don’t know how much resistance ferengi have to being scanned.”

Irons looked around, seeking someone, then said “Conference mode, Shae, Tauk, Shran, Smith. Hunter transporter room 1, who is on duty up there?”

“This is Ensign Sun, your Honor.”

“Locate Dr. Shae, Lieutenant Smith and Lieutenant Tauk and transport them to my location.”

“Aye, Captain,” Sun responded.

“What??” came Tauk’s voice over the link.

“End conference mode,” Irons said.


A moment later 2nd Lt. Tauk, Lt. T’Lok Smith and Dr. Tali Shae were each beamed in to join Justice Irons on the beach.

“I could have walked…” Dr. Tali Shae started, then noticed how serious Irons and Shran were looking.

“Tauk,” Irons said. “I hate to do this. We are going to sedate you. You will wake up on the Hunter.”

“What???” Tauk stammered again as Dr. Shae stepped up behind him, hypospray in hand, already dialing in the appropriate chemical. She placed the delivery end to Tauk’s neck and with a sharp hissing sound, it delivered a powerful sedative that caused the little ferengi to crumple into Dr. Shae’s arms. She lowered him gently to the sand.

“T’Lok, get your telepathic defenses up. Shran says we’re being scanned,” Irons said.

The young lieutenant’s eyes unfocused briefly, then she looked at Irons. “Yes. It’s a light scan, but I suspect she’ll start digging when she starts bouncing off our defenses.”

“She??” Irons and Shran said at the same moment.

“It’s a woman,” T’Lok said. “Definitely a female mind. Powerful. I don’t think she’s noticed yet that I’m blocking her.”




Commander David Pepper had joined the number of people around the fallen Kenneth Dolphin and T’Lon. “David,” came Irons’ voice from the communicator embedded in his chest.

“Go ahead Min.”

“You have 90 minutes to get everyone up to the Hunter. Have Lieutenant Gamor take Dolphin and T’Lon up in the wagon - using the transporter might interrupt their mind-meld. Make sure that doesn’t happen - both their lives depend on it,” Irons said.

“Aye, Captain,” Pep responded, then immediately set to ordering the crew’s evacuation from Ocean. He made certain to evacuate the breakfast buffet, complete with sparkling beverages and smoked fish, up to the Hunter as well.

3 - Breakfast Serial



This is the final scene for Episode 3.

The story continues in Episode 4 - Run To Earth

 
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Yeesh, a powerful and unexpected attack right in the middle of the crew's R&R. Either the foe knows Hunter's been assigned to run her down, or Hunter was already on her radar due to the ship's high percentage of hybrid crew. Here's hoping they can keep her at arm's distance until they've formulated a plan of defense. Dolphin's near-homicide was far too close for comfort. :(
 
Irons continued, “A betazoid of sufficient power and training could manipulate someone’s mind from long distance in real time - they could be in a cloaked ship or even posted on a nearby planet or asteroid. But the same problem applies. It would take someone of far greater ability than I have ever encountered.”


Dolphin took a sudden breath - hissing between his teeth. “Your honor, we’re not looking for a vulcan. Or a betazoid… We’re looking for a hybrid.”

Tauk picked up on the thought. “A genetically enhanced hybrid - vulcan and betazoid - with all of the telepathic abilities of both species genetically enhanced - the dials turned up as far as they can go. It would take all of those things - multiple mind melds, contact from a distance. Behaviors implanted and then triggered. The victim tries to fight against the implanted behaviors, but there is the telepath, working from afar. Let’s say they’re on Deep Space 9 or Bajor
Or... Talos IV.

If the Federation was concerned enough about interactions with the Talosians that visiting the planet remained one of the only offenses left on the books that carried a capital sentence, what would the sentence be for committing murder with psychic powers?

Anyone desperate enough to face such a sentence must consider their position as dire as total extinction, such as a planet that has lost its physical infrastructure with no ability to rebuild.

Great plot. I'm caught.

-Will
 
Or... Talos IV... ...visiting the planet remained one of the only offenses left on the books that carried a capital sentence, what would the sentence be for committing murder with psychic powers?...

I'm going to go with hushing the whole thing up and pretending it couldn't get a whole lot worse in a big hurry... considering there are a few planets full of powerful telepaths conveniently located nearby in the Alpha Quadrant...

Glad you're enjoying - Thanks!! rbs
 
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