Ooohh - an evil, maniacal, psychopathic vulcan! I like...
Thanks!! rbs
Thanks!! rbs
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Star Trek: Into the Void - Season One
- Thread starter admiralelm11
- Start date
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It’s Gibraltar! He’s gone mad! Lol! Just kidding.
Chapter Two
The flight deck section of the Starfleet runabout lay scorched and blackened on the baked surface of Merix. A twisted line was etched in the sand behind it, meandering off into the distance. Evidence of a less than perfect landing.
Huntington and Tilmoore stood alongside it, both of them shielding their eyes from the sun’s glare.
“What do we do now, sir?”
He looked away from the glare and down at her. “The warp core explosion should have blinded their sensors but it won’t last for long.” He held a tricorder in his hands and began scanning in a wide circle. “A large town is that,” he said, gesturing off into the distance. “It’s three kilometers away.”
“What is that?,” she asked him, pointing at the irregularly-shaped tricorder in his hands.
“Ferengi tricorder,” he said with a smile. “It’s modified, of course.”
“Why not use one of ours?,” she queried him, tapping the Federation-issue tricorder on her hip.
“Merix isn’t a Federation world. The Merixians depend on trade with some of the less savory races. They don’t mind Humans but to them, the Federation is an annoyance at best and an enemy at the worst.”
“Smugglers?,” she asked.
“And worse,” Huntington said. Diving back into the runabout, he returned a moment later, carrying his bags. Dumping them on the ground, he immediately crouched down and began rifling through them. “I don’t suppose you have some non-regulation clothes, do you?”
“Just my uniform. Why?” She regretted asked, a moment after she did. “Oh, my uniform. I’m sorry. I’m not with it today.”
Huntington looked up. “On the contrary, Ensign, considering what you’ve been through in the last hour, I think you’re doing fine.” He pulled a dark blue shirt out of the bag. “Here, strip down to your vest and put this on over it,” he said. “Then tie it off with this.” He handed her a belt. “And start dusting up your boots and trousers. Anything to disguise their origin.”
While Tilmoore ducked inside the flight deck, Huntington pulled out some clothes for himself, a pair of loose-fitting black trousers and a lightweight khaki shirt. With no concern for modesty, he stripped out of his uniform and put on his civilian clothes before he pulled on a pair of dark boots. Tilmoore reappeared now and for the first time, he realized that she was actually quite pretty.
This disturbed him.
He knew where they would be going and what kind of people they were likely to meet. The shirt hung down to midway between her waist and her knees, cinched in at the waist by his belt. She had dirtied up her trousers and she had also pulled her hair out of its hairband, letting it hang freely. She carried two silver cases that she now proceeded to place on the deck. Both cases were marked with the Starfleet seal.
“I don’t know if we wanted any of this.”
Huntington opened both cases. In one of them were four Type-II phasers. The second case carried ration packs and two canteens of water.
“Take some ration packs and the canteens. Once we’re within range of the town, we can ditch what we haven’t eaten,” he said, taking the four phasers out and laying them on the ground.
“And the phasers?”
“Too obviously Federation. Here, take this.” And he handed her one of the items that he had replicated, earlier. It was a small pistol with a blocky square barrel. “A Vulcan stun pistol,” he added. “It’s non-lethal but very powerful all the same.”
Tilmoore stuffed it into her belt. “What else did you replicate?”
“Just that, the tricorder, and this,” he said, hefting his old-style Type-II phaser.
“Nothing else?”
The lie tripped easily off his tongue. “No, nothing else.”
Keeping one of his bags, he tossed the other bag onto the flight deck along with his clothes and the two silver cases. Tilmoore watched in fascination as he proceeded to set two of the phasers up against the pilot’s seat with her tricorder open and sitting between them. Then he walked twenty meters away from the crash site and rested the other two phasers against a small pile of rocks. Another tricorder sat next to them.
As he walked back, she asked him. “What are you doing?”
“Insurance,” was his only reply. “Are you ready to go?”
“I guess.”
“Good,” he said, hefting his bag over his shoulder. They set off into the sun.
* * * *
On the Bridge of his ship, the Vulcan was getting restless. “Anything?,” he asked, his voice edged with frustration.
“Not a thing,” answered Ingrid.
“It’s been well over an hour. The sensors should be working.”
“They are,” she answered him,” but it’s a big planet and there are a lot of lifesigns down there. I’m scanning every ship leaving the surface too but so far, there’s been no sign of them.”
The Vulcan was pacing up and down now, making his new Helm Officer - a rough-looking Bolian - nervous. Finally, he stopped and took a deep breath before sitting down in his chair. “There is no need to panic,” he said, belying his demeanor, seconds before. “They cannot leave without us spotting them. We’ll get them.”
“Got them,” said Ingrid.
The Vulcan smiled. “After we kill them, I shall see that Tamor’s share of the bounty is distributed amongst the crew. Now, what have you found?”
“A Starfleet distress beacon. They came down in the desert here.” She indicated a spot on the screen in front of her.
“Lifesigns?” The Vulcan was leaning forward now.
“None. However, the crash site is obscured somewhat by thermal radiation.”
“What about the surrounding area?”
Ingrid examined the sensor data. “Plenty. There’s a town that lies three kilometers from the crash site.”
The Vulcan sat for a moment, pondering. “It would be logical to check out both locations,” he said suddenly to no one in particular. Tapping the communicator on his armrest, he barked out orders. “Prepare two shuttles. Klaah, prepare your men.” He stood up and walked over to Ingrid, placing his hands on her shoulders. She shuddered at the cold of his touch. “Ingrid, I have a task for you too.”
* * * *
Adam Huntington and Pamela Tilmoore were on the outskirts of the town when he stopped and began working on his tricorder. When he finished and slipped it back into his bag, the young woman asked,” What are you doing?”
“I just activated the runabout’s distress beacon by remote,” he said matter-of-factly.
“What?!,” she asked in a raised voice.
“Shh, quiet,” he said, his eyes darting from left to right. The area that they were in was a shantytown of huts and shelters made out of the flimsiest materials. Its inhabitants were weak and starving but that didn’t make them any less dangerous.
Remembering that she was talking to a superior officer, she lowered her voice. “Why did you do that?,” she asked him. “They’ll find us now.” Her voice was lower but her eyes were full of fear.
Huntington reminded himself that he was dealing with a very green and young junior officer. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “I should have warned you. They would find the runabout anyways. All that I’ve done is insure that they’ll find it on my terms.”
“Oh.”
“Trust me, Ensign,” he began.
Tilmoore kicked up dust with her boots. “I know,” she said. “You’ve been doing this for a long time.”
Huntington laughed.
“So why are they after us?”
“I presume they’re actually after me.”
“Oh,” Tilmoore said, once more, with almost a note of disappointment in her voice. “Why?”
Huntington considered her question for a moment. “I worked with Federation Security, a few years ago. It was nothing earth-shattering. Just a few smuggling cases, but it’s possible that I annoyed the wrong people.” He looked at her now with concern etched out on his face. “I’m sorry that I got you in the middle of this.”
Tilmoore lowered her eyes. “That’s okay, sir. It makes a change from shuttle runs,” she said, smiling.
“Let’s see if we can’t get off of this rock,” he said, turning and leading her into the town properly.
* * * *
The Vulcan piloted one of the mercenary shuttles down himself, sweeping in low over the remains of the Federation runabout. “Anything?,” he asked.
“No,” said the aged Klingon beside him. Klaah was old for a warrior. His face bore the scars of a hundred battles and his white hair was sparse, clumped together in patches, leaving the rest of his head smooth. In the cargo area behind them were two young and eager Klingon warriors. Neither of them were even twenty-years old yet.
“Nothing at all?,” inquired the Vulcan.
“No. The radiation is obscuring everything.” Klaah peered out of the window while he took them in for another pass. “I can’t even see tracks. The ground is so dry.”
“Then we must land,” the Vulcan said, pulling the shuttle around in a near-impossible turn and landing it for the first time, just a few dozen meters from the crashed runabout. The turn was so fierce that both of the young Klingons went green – or whatever the equivalent of a Klingon going green was. Even Klaah visibly paled. The Vulcan was unchanged. Opening the shuttle’s door, the four men climbed out and stood together in a group.
“I see nothing,” Kllah said, straining with his ancient eyes to see inside the flight deck of the runabout. “B’rull, Tresk, search it,” he commanded them.
Both of the younger Klingons moved without any hesitation. Klaah was no coward but he hadn’t gotten this old without taking any precautions. A Klingon of his age and wisdom had little trouble in acquiring a seemingly endless line of eager young warriors, all willing to die for him.
The two Klingons moved stealthily, sneaking up onto the flight deck as if it was a targ, their disruptors held like spears, ready to strike when they saw an enemy.
They never did.
As they moved into the specified range, the tricorder that Huntington had set up away from the runabout’s flight deck detected them and sent a signal to the twin phasers. In turn, the phasers began firing short rapid-fire bursts. As the ground around them began exploding, the two inexperienced Klingons sought the nearest cover that they could find. At this moment, the runabout. Scrambling inside, they activated the second booby trap. This time, that pair of phasers didn’t fire. They overloaded.
As the phaser fire started, the Vulcan and Klaah had ducked behind their ship. Over the sound of phasers, they now heard a distinctive hum. “Phaser on overload!,” Klaah shouted as both men flattened themselves against the side of their shuttle.
B’rull and Tresk had no such luxury. The whine of the phasers was unbearable inside the flight deck but they couldn’t escape because of the phaser fire from outside. The dilemma was solved, a moment later, when the phasers exploded. As the dust settled, the Vulcan and Klaah moved behind Huntington’s makeshift booby trap. The elderly Klingon vaporized both phasers and the tricorder. Now both men looked over at the smoking hulk of the runabout, clouds of black smoke hanging over the wreckage.
Klaah spat at the ground. “Ah, well. There’s plenty more where they came from.”
“Indeed. However, this endeavor is becoming more expensive by the moment. I might have to re-evaluate our fee,” the Vulcan said as they returned to their shuttle.
The flight deck section of the Starfleet runabout lay scorched and blackened on the baked surface of Merix. A twisted line was etched in the sand behind it, meandering off into the distance. Evidence of a less than perfect landing.
Huntington and Tilmoore stood alongside it, both of them shielding their eyes from the sun’s glare.
“What do we do now, sir?”
He looked away from the glare and down at her. “The warp core explosion should have blinded their sensors but it won’t last for long.” He held a tricorder in his hands and began scanning in a wide circle. “A large town is that,” he said, gesturing off into the distance. “It’s three kilometers away.”
“What is that?,” she asked him, pointing at the irregularly-shaped tricorder in his hands.
“Ferengi tricorder,” he said with a smile. “It’s modified, of course.”
“Why not use one of ours?,” she queried him, tapping the Federation-issue tricorder on her hip.
“Merix isn’t a Federation world. The Merixians depend on trade with some of the less savory races. They don’t mind Humans but to them, the Federation is an annoyance at best and an enemy at the worst.”
“Smugglers?,” she asked.
“And worse,” Huntington said. Diving back into the runabout, he returned a moment later, carrying his bags. Dumping them on the ground, he immediately crouched down and began rifling through them. “I don’t suppose you have some non-regulation clothes, do you?”
“Just my uniform. Why?” She regretted asked, a moment after she did. “Oh, my uniform. I’m sorry. I’m not with it today.”
Huntington looked up. “On the contrary, Ensign, considering what you’ve been through in the last hour, I think you’re doing fine.” He pulled a dark blue shirt out of the bag. “Here, strip down to your vest and put this on over it,” he said. “Then tie it off with this.” He handed her a belt. “And start dusting up your boots and trousers. Anything to disguise their origin.”
While Tilmoore ducked inside the flight deck, Huntington pulled out some clothes for himself, a pair of loose-fitting black trousers and a lightweight khaki shirt. With no concern for modesty, he stripped out of his uniform and put on his civilian clothes before he pulled on a pair of dark boots. Tilmoore reappeared now and for the first time, he realized that she was actually quite pretty.
This disturbed him.
He knew where they would be going and what kind of people they were likely to meet. The shirt hung down to midway between her waist and her knees, cinched in at the waist by his belt. She had dirtied up her trousers and she had also pulled her hair out of its hairband, letting it hang freely. She carried two silver cases that she now proceeded to place on the deck. Both cases were marked with the Starfleet seal.
“I don’t know if we wanted any of this.”
Huntington opened both cases. In one of them were four Type-II phasers. The second case carried ration packs and two canteens of water.
“Take some ration packs and the canteens. Once we’re within range of the town, we can ditch what we haven’t eaten,” he said, taking the four phasers out and laying them on the ground.
“And the phasers?”
“Too obviously Federation. Here, take this.” And he handed her one of the items that he had replicated, earlier. It was a small pistol with a blocky square barrel. “A Vulcan stun pistol,” he added. “It’s non-lethal but very powerful all the same.”
Tilmoore stuffed it into her belt. “What else did you replicate?”
“Just that, the tricorder, and this,” he said, hefting his old-style Type-II phaser.
“Nothing else?”
The lie tripped easily off his tongue. “No, nothing else.”
Keeping one of his bags, he tossed the other bag onto the flight deck along with his clothes and the two silver cases. Tilmoore watched in fascination as he proceeded to set two of the phasers up against the pilot’s seat with her tricorder open and sitting between them. Then he walked twenty meters away from the crash site and rested the other two phasers against a small pile of rocks. Another tricorder sat next to them.
As he walked back, she asked him. “What are you doing?”
“Insurance,” was his only reply. “Are you ready to go?”
“I guess.”
“Good,” he said, hefting his bag over his shoulder. They set off into the sun.
* * * *
On the Bridge of his ship, the Vulcan was getting restless. “Anything?,” he asked, his voice edged with frustration.
“Not a thing,” answered Ingrid.
“It’s been well over an hour. The sensors should be working.”
“They are,” she answered him,” but it’s a big planet and there are a lot of lifesigns down there. I’m scanning every ship leaving the surface too but so far, there’s been no sign of them.”
The Vulcan was pacing up and down now, making his new Helm Officer - a rough-looking Bolian - nervous. Finally, he stopped and took a deep breath before sitting down in his chair. “There is no need to panic,” he said, belying his demeanor, seconds before. “They cannot leave without us spotting them. We’ll get them.”
“Got them,” said Ingrid.
The Vulcan smiled. “After we kill them, I shall see that Tamor’s share of the bounty is distributed amongst the crew. Now, what have you found?”
“A Starfleet distress beacon. They came down in the desert here.” She indicated a spot on the screen in front of her.
“Lifesigns?” The Vulcan was leaning forward now.
“None. However, the crash site is obscured somewhat by thermal radiation.”
“What about the surrounding area?”
Ingrid examined the sensor data. “Plenty. There’s a town that lies three kilometers from the crash site.”
The Vulcan sat for a moment, pondering. “It would be logical to check out both locations,” he said suddenly to no one in particular. Tapping the communicator on his armrest, he barked out orders. “Prepare two shuttles. Klaah, prepare your men.” He stood up and walked over to Ingrid, placing his hands on her shoulders. She shuddered at the cold of his touch. “Ingrid, I have a task for you too.”
* * * *
Adam Huntington and Pamela Tilmoore were on the outskirts of the town when he stopped and began working on his tricorder. When he finished and slipped it back into his bag, the young woman asked,” What are you doing?”
“I just activated the runabout’s distress beacon by remote,” he said matter-of-factly.
“What?!,” she asked in a raised voice.
“Shh, quiet,” he said, his eyes darting from left to right. The area that they were in was a shantytown of huts and shelters made out of the flimsiest materials. Its inhabitants were weak and starving but that didn’t make them any less dangerous.
Remembering that she was talking to a superior officer, she lowered her voice. “Why did you do that?,” she asked him. “They’ll find us now.” Her voice was lower but her eyes were full of fear.
Huntington reminded himself that he was dealing with a very green and young junior officer. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “I should have warned you. They would find the runabout anyways. All that I’ve done is insure that they’ll find it on my terms.”
“Oh.”
“Trust me, Ensign,” he began.
Tilmoore kicked up dust with her boots. “I know,” she said. “You’ve been doing this for a long time.”
Huntington laughed.
“So why are they after us?”
“I presume they’re actually after me.”
“Oh,” Tilmoore said, once more, with almost a note of disappointment in her voice. “Why?”
Huntington considered her question for a moment. “I worked with Federation Security, a few years ago. It was nothing earth-shattering. Just a few smuggling cases, but it’s possible that I annoyed the wrong people.” He looked at her now with concern etched out on his face. “I’m sorry that I got you in the middle of this.”
Tilmoore lowered her eyes. “That’s okay, sir. It makes a change from shuttle runs,” she said, smiling.
“Let’s see if we can’t get off of this rock,” he said, turning and leading her into the town properly.
* * * *
The Vulcan piloted one of the mercenary shuttles down himself, sweeping in low over the remains of the Federation runabout. “Anything?,” he asked.
“No,” said the aged Klingon beside him. Klaah was old for a warrior. His face bore the scars of a hundred battles and his white hair was sparse, clumped together in patches, leaving the rest of his head smooth. In the cargo area behind them were two young and eager Klingon warriors. Neither of them were even twenty-years old yet.
“Nothing at all?,” inquired the Vulcan.
“No. The radiation is obscuring everything.” Klaah peered out of the window while he took them in for another pass. “I can’t even see tracks. The ground is so dry.”
“Then we must land,” the Vulcan said, pulling the shuttle around in a near-impossible turn and landing it for the first time, just a few dozen meters from the crashed runabout. The turn was so fierce that both of the young Klingons went green – or whatever the equivalent of a Klingon going green was. Even Klaah visibly paled. The Vulcan was unchanged. Opening the shuttle’s door, the four men climbed out and stood together in a group.
“I see nothing,” Kllah said, straining with his ancient eyes to see inside the flight deck of the runabout. “B’rull, Tresk, search it,” he commanded them.
Both of the younger Klingons moved without any hesitation. Klaah was no coward but he hadn’t gotten this old without taking any precautions. A Klingon of his age and wisdom had little trouble in acquiring a seemingly endless line of eager young warriors, all willing to die for him.
The two Klingons moved stealthily, sneaking up onto the flight deck as if it was a targ, their disruptors held like spears, ready to strike when they saw an enemy.
They never did.
As they moved into the specified range, the tricorder that Huntington had set up away from the runabout’s flight deck detected them and sent a signal to the twin phasers. In turn, the phasers began firing short rapid-fire bursts. As the ground around them began exploding, the two inexperienced Klingons sought the nearest cover that they could find. At this moment, the runabout. Scrambling inside, they activated the second booby trap. This time, that pair of phasers didn’t fire. They overloaded.
As the phaser fire started, the Vulcan and Klaah had ducked behind their ship. Over the sound of phasers, they now heard a distinctive hum. “Phaser on overload!,” Klaah shouted as both men flattened themselves against the side of their shuttle.
B’rull and Tresk had no such luxury. The whine of the phasers was unbearable inside the flight deck but they couldn’t escape because of the phaser fire from outside. The dilemma was solved, a moment later, when the phasers exploded. As the dust settled, the Vulcan and Klaah moved behind Huntington’s makeshift booby trap. The elderly Klingon vaporized both phasers and the tricorder. Now both men looked over at the smoking hulk of the runabout, clouds of black smoke hanging over the wreckage.
Klaah spat at the ground. “Ah, well. There’s plenty more where they came from.”
“Indeed. However, this endeavor is becoming more expensive by the moment. I might have to re-evaluate our fee,” the Vulcan said as they returned to their shuttle.
Okay - so the .007 metaphor fits even better now. Spy vs. Spy. And we've yet to find out why...
Keep it coming! Thanks!! rbs
Keep it coming! Thanks!! rbs
Chapter Three
They discovered that the name of the town was Illerix. They also learned that it was Merixian for ‘Place where the Sky Giver Live’. Huntington took this to imply that it was the main spaceport on the planet since the majority of people that they saw were not Merixians. He hadn’t seen such a diverse bunch in many years. Ferengi, Klingons, Andorians, Humans, Gallamites, Tellarites, Talarians, Lissepians… He even saw a Gorn as they passed through the streets. There were a few Merixians as well. They were short, blue creatures who skitted around on four legs and talked in a mixture of whistles and clicks.
The town itself wasn’t too much different from the shantytown that they had passed through earlier. Most of the buildings were built out of scraps which were a variety of materials and colors making each structure look like a patchwork quilt. In addition, most of the buildings seemed to be either a hotel or a bar of some description. Gaudy neon lights promised everything from a comfortable bed for the night to a comfortable bed with a comfortable companion by the hour.
For Huntington, it was like a dozen other backwater towns that he had visited over the years. However, Tilmoore was having a hard time, taking the shocked look off of her face.
After inquiring with a few of the locals, they had been pointed in the direction of a bar called ‘The Laughing Vulcan’. They found it easily enough and discovered that it was quite near the spaceport which the town had been built around. Ships roared into the sky as they stood outside.
“Nice place,” Tilmoore said.
The bar was a single story structure that was painted a fading blue. It appeared like it was made out of a pitted metal of some kind. There were two large windows on either side of a pair of rusted double doors. One of the windows was smashed and the other one was boarded up. Over the top of the doorway hung a neon sign that proclaimed, in bright pink, that it was ‘T e Laug ing Vu ca ‘.
“Isn’t it just?,” he said, his hand dropping down to the phaser holstered on his hip. “Stay close to me and don’t say anything. Keep your gun handy but stay calm.”
“Okay.”
They stepped inside, and as soon as they passed through the doors, their senses were assaulted on every front. Loud music – Human rock-and-roll circa the last twenty-first century, Huntington decided – blared out from every corner of the room and the air was thick with warm smoke. Tilmoore coughed fiercely. Bright red lights flashed from above the slender bar in time to the music.
“What is that?”
“Tobacco smoke,” he replied. “I hope.”
Tilmoore’s eyes were watering as they walked over to the bar. This wasn’t an easy task since tables and chairs were scattered throughout the room. They were all occupied. Huntington counted more than a dozed seated creatures and there were twice as many creatures standing, drinks in their hands, while they engaged in animated conversations with each other .
They were halfway to the bar when it happened. Tilmoore was just a step behind Huntington when a tall, young Ferengi reached out and grabbed her by the hair. As she yelled out in pain, he turned around, his hand dancing near his phaser but he resisted the urge to draw it. The young woman twisted and turned in the Ferengi’s grasp, much to the amusement of him and his two friends, both of them Human.
“I like them with a bit of spirit,” he laughed.
“Let me go!,” screamed Tilmoore. No one else in the bar so much as raised an eyebrow at what was happening. Huntington figured that it probably happened all the time.
“Let her go,” he said simply, his voice being steady and calm.
“Or what, old man?,” laughed the Ferengi. “You’re too old for her. It’s time that she had a younger man.” He twisted her around and tried to kiss her. At this point was when Tilmoore remembered her Academy self-defense classes and went limp. This act caught the Ferengi off-guard and she used his indecision to grasp his jacket and flip him over her shoulder to the ground. Finally the crowd noticed what was going on and a chorus of jeers erupted that were aimed at the Ferengi.
His two friends began to move to grab Tilmoore and they found themselves facing Huntington’s weapons. “Why don’t we let the lady finish teaching our large-lobed friend a lesson? Yes?”
The two thugs nodded.
Behind him, Tilmoore backed away when the Ferengi rose up.
“A female!,” he spat. “A Hoo-man female! You’ll pay for that!” As he ran at her, Tilmoore was more confident when she sidestepped his charge, allowing her left foot to stick out as he passed her, tripping him. As he fell forward, she grasped the tip of his ear and yanked on it. His squeal of agony was so high-pitched that it rose high above the rock-and-roll music.
Huntington saw several men in the crowd wince in imagined agony. As the Ferengi fell forward, he clattered into a table where two Yridians had been talking, knocking their drinks all over himself. As he landed, he let out a scream of rage and drew a small phaser out from underneath his jacket.
“Bitch!,” he screamed.
Adam moved like lightning. A stun blast knocked the Ferengi out cold, just as he was about to fire. As soon as his pistol had moved away from them, the two Humans made their move. The braver of the two drew a wicked-looking knife and lunged at him. The Starfleet officer saw movement from the corner of his eye and jerked sideways, his phaser dropping from his hand as the knife missed his face. He caught his arm as the Human barrelled past him and swung him down on top of his Ferengi friend.
The less brave of the Human trio had pulled out an ugly-looking gun and he now had a bead on Huntington. Before he could fire though, he was lifted off of his feet by a large ball of crackling blue energy. As he fell backwards, he demolished a table surrounded by Klingons. He was unconscious and so he didn’t feel the beating that they soon began to dish out to him.
The Human with the knife had scrambled to his feet and ran from the building. To Huntington’s left stood Tilmoore with the Vulcan stun gun clasped tightly in both of her hands. She swallowed hard and said in a trembling voice,” Nice gun.”
Huntington smiled as he reached down for his own weapon. “I told you it was powerful.”
As he stood up, a large alien woman, he couldn’t easily identify her species, walked their way, shoving everyone gawking out of the way. “Oi! The show’s over! Get back to your drinking!,” she shouted to everyone. As the tables were correctly returned to their original positions and conversations started up again, she sidled up to Adam.
“That’s one heck of a show that you and your lady put on,” she said through a broken-toothed grin. Huntington estimated that her age was anywhere from thirty to seventy. Her skin was gray and wrinkled. Her eyes – all three of them – were a dull reddish color. Acres of blue hair sprouted from her head in all directions.
“I’m sorry for the damage.”
She snorted and waved his apology away. “Damage? Come back in a few hours and it’ll be a lot worse. Now what can I get you? First drinks are on the house. There’s nothing like a brawl to generate business,” she said, rubbing her hands together in glee.
“I’m sorry. We didn’t come for a drink. We’re looking for passage off of Merix. I was informed that this is where a lot of freighter pilots hang out.”
Looking disappointed, the woman pointed off towards a distant corner. “There. She’s the best of a bad bunch. Just tell her that I recommended you.” She was off, walking back towards the bar.
Tilmoore was still standing, holding the outstretched pistol. Huntington holstered his own phaser and took the stun pistol from her. “Come on. We’re okay,” he said, leading her off towards the direction that the alien woman had pointed in.
The pilot was seated in a darkened booth. Huntington could tell that she was probably Human but nothing more. She sat, leaned back in the shadows with her arms draped over the back of her seat. A glass of blue liquid sat on the table in front of her.
“Can I help you?,” she asked them, lazily as they sat down.
“I was informed that you’re a trustworthy freighter captain. My companion and I are looking for passage to Callak III.”
The freighter pilot laughed. “And how are you proposing to pay for passage?”
“I have money and I can get you more upon arrival.”
“I’m expensive,” she replied.
“I can assure you that we can pay whatever your price is,” Huntington told her.
“Oh, I doubt you have enough to hire me,” Ingrid said, leaning forward out of the gloom. “The Doctor is being paid a lot to kill you.”
Huntington’s hand strayed to his phaser. “Oh, I wouldn’t,” Ingrid said, gesturing behind him.
As they turned to glance over their shoulders, Tilmoore screamed while he merely raised an eyebrow. “You don’t see that every day,” he said as the Jem’Hadar warrior reached over and took their weapons.
“Shall we?,” the woman said, gesturing towards the door with her disruptor.
A small shuttlecraft awaited them at the spaceport. It was empty and Ingrid slipped into the pilot’s seat. The massive Jem’Hadar sat silently, facing them, his rifle clutched to his chest.
“Nice day, isn’t it?,” asked Huntington. The Jem’Hadar remained still. “So how are things with the Dominion? Pay all right? Lots of on-the-job benefits?”
Still nothing.
Huntington turned towards Tilmoore. “That’s the trouble, nowadays. No one uses Nausicaans as muscle anymore. Say what you like about Nausicaans. You can always have a conversation with them. Even while they’re beating you.”
As the shuttle breached through the atmosphere, Ingrid glanced back at them. “You’re a funny guy, Commander. I’m sure that the Doctor will die laughing when he meets you.”
Huntington smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Well, I don’t mind if he doesn’t laugh but I do hope that he dies.”
Ingrid’s face darkened. “Seventeen, hit him.”
Before he could react, the Jem’Hadar reached forward and slapped Adam hard across the face with his left hand. His face snapped hard to the right, and when it turned back, there was blood dripping from his nose. He reached up and dapped at his nose, his fingers coming away bloody.
“You hit like a girl,” he said, staring straight at Seventeen. Unsurprisingly, he remained stoic.
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?,” Tilmoore asked quietly.
Huntington turned to face her. She looked younger and more terrified than ever. “Yes,” he replied honestly. “We probably are. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s kinda funny. I think we all know that it’s a dangerous career but we never really face that fact until it actually happens. Just one thing, Commander. Did I do okay? On the runabout? In the bar?”
He smiled at her. “You did just fine. It was a pleasure serving with you.”
“Oh, please,” said Ingrid. “Spare me that righteous Starfleet bullshit.”
Huntington’s smile slipped into a frown. He looked up at Seventeen. “Pay attention. You might need to hit me again in a minute,” he said before turning his attention to the pilot. “Young lady, I don’t know where your ‘Doctor’ found you but I can only imagine that it was some fleapit that makes Merix look respectable. I’ve met a dozen women like you and I can assure you that they all ended up back in the scum hole that they came from. You’ll be no different.”
Ingrid’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, he expected her to order Seventeen to strike him again. Instead she turned back to her controls. No one spoke for the rest of the short flight.
* * * *
The small shuttlecraft soon docked in the Hanger Bay of the Vulcan’s ship. Huntington noticed that there was another shuttle already there. As the rear doors opened, he saw that there were two figures waiting outside. One of them was an elderly Klingon with a disruptor in his hand. The second was a long-haired Vulcan, dressed all in white and he was grinning broadly.
There was something about the Vulcan that sent off alarm bells in Huntington’s head but he couldn’t put his finger on what.
“Greetings,” the Vulcan said as Adam and Tilmoore stood before him. His smile was cold and reptilian. “My name is Shatterhand,” he said. “Doctor Shatterhand.”
They discovered that the name of the town was Illerix. They also learned that it was Merixian for ‘Place where the Sky Giver Live’. Huntington took this to imply that it was the main spaceport on the planet since the majority of people that they saw were not Merixians. He hadn’t seen such a diverse bunch in many years. Ferengi, Klingons, Andorians, Humans, Gallamites, Tellarites, Talarians, Lissepians… He even saw a Gorn as they passed through the streets. There were a few Merixians as well. They were short, blue creatures who skitted around on four legs and talked in a mixture of whistles and clicks.
The town itself wasn’t too much different from the shantytown that they had passed through earlier. Most of the buildings were built out of scraps which were a variety of materials and colors making each structure look like a patchwork quilt. In addition, most of the buildings seemed to be either a hotel or a bar of some description. Gaudy neon lights promised everything from a comfortable bed for the night to a comfortable bed with a comfortable companion by the hour.
For Huntington, it was like a dozen other backwater towns that he had visited over the years. However, Tilmoore was having a hard time, taking the shocked look off of her face.
After inquiring with a few of the locals, they had been pointed in the direction of a bar called ‘The Laughing Vulcan’. They found it easily enough and discovered that it was quite near the spaceport which the town had been built around. Ships roared into the sky as they stood outside.
“Nice place,” Tilmoore said.
The bar was a single story structure that was painted a fading blue. It appeared like it was made out of a pitted metal of some kind. There were two large windows on either side of a pair of rusted double doors. One of the windows was smashed and the other one was boarded up. Over the top of the doorway hung a neon sign that proclaimed, in bright pink, that it was ‘T e Laug ing Vu ca ‘.
“Isn’t it just?,” he said, his hand dropping down to the phaser holstered on his hip. “Stay close to me and don’t say anything. Keep your gun handy but stay calm.”
“Okay.”
They stepped inside, and as soon as they passed through the doors, their senses were assaulted on every front. Loud music – Human rock-and-roll circa the last twenty-first century, Huntington decided – blared out from every corner of the room and the air was thick with warm smoke. Tilmoore coughed fiercely. Bright red lights flashed from above the slender bar in time to the music.
“What is that?”
“Tobacco smoke,” he replied. “I hope.”
Tilmoore’s eyes were watering as they walked over to the bar. This wasn’t an easy task since tables and chairs were scattered throughout the room. They were all occupied. Huntington counted more than a dozed seated creatures and there were twice as many creatures standing, drinks in their hands, while they engaged in animated conversations with each other .
They were halfway to the bar when it happened. Tilmoore was just a step behind Huntington when a tall, young Ferengi reached out and grabbed her by the hair. As she yelled out in pain, he turned around, his hand dancing near his phaser but he resisted the urge to draw it. The young woman twisted and turned in the Ferengi’s grasp, much to the amusement of him and his two friends, both of them Human.
“I like them with a bit of spirit,” he laughed.
“Let me go!,” screamed Tilmoore. No one else in the bar so much as raised an eyebrow at what was happening. Huntington figured that it probably happened all the time.
“Let her go,” he said simply, his voice being steady and calm.
“Or what, old man?,” laughed the Ferengi. “You’re too old for her. It’s time that she had a younger man.” He twisted her around and tried to kiss her. At this point was when Tilmoore remembered her Academy self-defense classes and went limp. This act caught the Ferengi off-guard and she used his indecision to grasp his jacket and flip him over her shoulder to the ground. Finally the crowd noticed what was going on and a chorus of jeers erupted that were aimed at the Ferengi.
His two friends began to move to grab Tilmoore and they found themselves facing Huntington’s weapons. “Why don’t we let the lady finish teaching our large-lobed friend a lesson? Yes?”
The two thugs nodded.
Behind him, Tilmoore backed away when the Ferengi rose up.
“A female!,” he spat. “A Hoo-man female! You’ll pay for that!” As he ran at her, Tilmoore was more confident when she sidestepped his charge, allowing her left foot to stick out as he passed her, tripping him. As he fell forward, she grasped the tip of his ear and yanked on it. His squeal of agony was so high-pitched that it rose high above the rock-and-roll music.
Huntington saw several men in the crowd wince in imagined agony. As the Ferengi fell forward, he clattered into a table where two Yridians had been talking, knocking their drinks all over himself. As he landed, he let out a scream of rage and drew a small phaser out from underneath his jacket.
“Bitch!,” he screamed.
Adam moved like lightning. A stun blast knocked the Ferengi out cold, just as he was about to fire. As soon as his pistol had moved away from them, the two Humans made their move. The braver of the two drew a wicked-looking knife and lunged at him. The Starfleet officer saw movement from the corner of his eye and jerked sideways, his phaser dropping from his hand as the knife missed his face. He caught his arm as the Human barrelled past him and swung him down on top of his Ferengi friend.
The less brave of the Human trio had pulled out an ugly-looking gun and he now had a bead on Huntington. Before he could fire though, he was lifted off of his feet by a large ball of crackling blue energy. As he fell backwards, he demolished a table surrounded by Klingons. He was unconscious and so he didn’t feel the beating that they soon began to dish out to him.
The Human with the knife had scrambled to his feet and ran from the building. To Huntington’s left stood Tilmoore with the Vulcan stun gun clasped tightly in both of her hands. She swallowed hard and said in a trembling voice,” Nice gun.”
Huntington smiled as he reached down for his own weapon. “I told you it was powerful.”
As he stood up, a large alien woman, he couldn’t easily identify her species, walked their way, shoving everyone gawking out of the way. “Oi! The show’s over! Get back to your drinking!,” she shouted to everyone. As the tables were correctly returned to their original positions and conversations started up again, she sidled up to Adam.
“That’s one heck of a show that you and your lady put on,” she said through a broken-toothed grin. Huntington estimated that her age was anywhere from thirty to seventy. Her skin was gray and wrinkled. Her eyes – all three of them – were a dull reddish color. Acres of blue hair sprouted from her head in all directions.
“I’m sorry for the damage.”
She snorted and waved his apology away. “Damage? Come back in a few hours and it’ll be a lot worse. Now what can I get you? First drinks are on the house. There’s nothing like a brawl to generate business,” she said, rubbing her hands together in glee.
“I’m sorry. We didn’t come for a drink. We’re looking for passage off of Merix. I was informed that this is where a lot of freighter pilots hang out.”
Looking disappointed, the woman pointed off towards a distant corner. “There. She’s the best of a bad bunch. Just tell her that I recommended you.” She was off, walking back towards the bar.
Tilmoore was still standing, holding the outstretched pistol. Huntington holstered his own phaser and took the stun pistol from her. “Come on. We’re okay,” he said, leading her off towards the direction that the alien woman had pointed in.
The pilot was seated in a darkened booth. Huntington could tell that she was probably Human but nothing more. She sat, leaned back in the shadows with her arms draped over the back of her seat. A glass of blue liquid sat on the table in front of her.
“Can I help you?,” she asked them, lazily as they sat down.
“I was informed that you’re a trustworthy freighter captain. My companion and I are looking for passage to Callak III.”
The freighter pilot laughed. “And how are you proposing to pay for passage?”
“I have money and I can get you more upon arrival.”
“I’m expensive,” she replied.
“I can assure you that we can pay whatever your price is,” Huntington told her.
“Oh, I doubt you have enough to hire me,” Ingrid said, leaning forward out of the gloom. “The Doctor is being paid a lot to kill you.”
Huntington’s hand strayed to his phaser. “Oh, I wouldn’t,” Ingrid said, gesturing behind him.
As they turned to glance over their shoulders, Tilmoore screamed while he merely raised an eyebrow. “You don’t see that every day,” he said as the Jem’Hadar warrior reached over and took their weapons.
“Shall we?,” the woman said, gesturing towards the door with her disruptor.
A small shuttlecraft awaited them at the spaceport. It was empty and Ingrid slipped into the pilot’s seat. The massive Jem’Hadar sat silently, facing them, his rifle clutched to his chest.
“Nice day, isn’t it?,” asked Huntington. The Jem’Hadar remained still. “So how are things with the Dominion? Pay all right? Lots of on-the-job benefits?”
Still nothing.
Huntington turned towards Tilmoore. “That’s the trouble, nowadays. No one uses Nausicaans as muscle anymore. Say what you like about Nausicaans. You can always have a conversation with them. Even while they’re beating you.”
As the shuttle breached through the atmosphere, Ingrid glanced back at them. “You’re a funny guy, Commander. I’m sure that the Doctor will die laughing when he meets you.”
Huntington smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Well, I don’t mind if he doesn’t laugh but I do hope that he dies.”
Ingrid’s face darkened. “Seventeen, hit him.”
Before he could react, the Jem’Hadar reached forward and slapped Adam hard across the face with his left hand. His face snapped hard to the right, and when it turned back, there was blood dripping from his nose. He reached up and dapped at his nose, his fingers coming away bloody.
“You hit like a girl,” he said, staring straight at Seventeen. Unsurprisingly, he remained stoic.
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?,” Tilmoore asked quietly.
Huntington turned to face her. She looked younger and more terrified than ever. “Yes,” he replied honestly. “We probably are. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s kinda funny. I think we all know that it’s a dangerous career but we never really face that fact until it actually happens. Just one thing, Commander. Did I do okay? On the runabout? In the bar?”
He smiled at her. “You did just fine. It was a pleasure serving with you.”
“Oh, please,” said Ingrid. “Spare me that righteous Starfleet bullshit.”
Huntington’s smile slipped into a frown. He looked up at Seventeen. “Pay attention. You might need to hit me again in a minute,” he said before turning his attention to the pilot. “Young lady, I don’t know where your ‘Doctor’ found you but I can only imagine that it was some fleapit that makes Merix look respectable. I’ve met a dozen women like you and I can assure you that they all ended up back in the scum hole that they came from. You’ll be no different.”
Ingrid’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, he expected her to order Seventeen to strike him again. Instead she turned back to her controls. No one spoke for the rest of the short flight.
* * * *
The small shuttlecraft soon docked in the Hanger Bay of the Vulcan’s ship. Huntington noticed that there was another shuttle already there. As the rear doors opened, he saw that there were two figures waiting outside. One of them was an elderly Klingon with a disruptor in his hand. The second was a long-haired Vulcan, dressed all in white and he was grinning broadly.
There was something about the Vulcan that sent off alarm bells in Huntington’s head but he couldn’t put his finger on what.
“Greetings,” the Vulcan said as Adam and Tilmoore stood before him. His smile was cold and reptilian. “My name is Shatterhand,” he said. “Doctor Shatterhand.”
Chapter Four
“Now I know who you are,” Adam said
“Really?,” asked Shatterhand. “Please enlighten us.”
Huntington gave a tiny laugh. “I’ve read the file. Doctor Shatterhand, formerly a Vulcan surgeon. I’m sorry that I can’t recall your real name right now. Anyways, a very talented surgeon but with a very cosmopolitan attitude. He could have worked at the prestigious Sha’leah Institute but he chose to practice away from Vulcan instead. He spent several decades practicing on a variety of different worlds. Then, about ten years ago, you were asked to save the life of a very important Klingon. M’Rashk, the head of a very powerful House.”
“You’re good,” said Shatterhand.
“Good memory. Anyways, you failed to save M’Rashk and in a fit of rage, his son had your hands smashed.” Huntington leaded forward, his tone dropped to a whisper. “I take it that’s where Shatterhand comes from?”
When Shatterhand nodded, a surreal smile grew on his face. Huntington leaned back and resumed in his normal voice. “After that, you dropped out of sight for a year. When you returned, it was as an assassin for hire. A very good one, apparently. Presumably since you couldn’t save lives anymore, you decided on the polar opposite, taking them.”
“Something like that.”
“Since then, several confirmed hits in a year. You’re on the Federation’s Most Wanted List but very clever. We’ve never come close to catching you. That’s it, really. Apart from one quite obvious point.”
“Which is?”
“Your obvious insanity,” said Huntington, deadpan.
Shatterhand shook his head. “There is a fine line…”
“Between genius and insanity.” Huntington shook his own head. “You would be amazed how often I've heard that.”
Shatterhand lanced forward, his right hand grabbing him by the throat. His face was a mask of anger as he leaned in close. “You think that you’re so clever, don’t you? So clever that you walked right into my bar on Merix. MY BAR!,” he screamed. “And I’ll tell you something else that you don’t know.”
“What?,” gasped Huntington.
Shatterhand let him drop to the floor. Adam gasped for breath as Tilmoore dropped beside him. “Are you okay?,” she asked him.
“I’m fine,” he answered croakily, rubbing his neck. “What else don’t I know, Shatterhand?”
Shatterhand was calm now. “Do you know that during the Dominion War, I worked for Starfleet Intelligence? I can tell by the shocked expression on your face that you didn’t. No mind. I carried out numerous assignments for them and helped them win the war for the Alpha Quadrant. And my reward? Back on the Most Wanted List, the moment that the surrender was signed.”
“You expected a medal?,” Huntington asked him as he let Tilmoore help him to his feet.
“I expected some consideration. I expected to keep working for you.”
Huntington shook his head. “That would never happen. We might have been desperate enough to use you once but never again.”
“You would be surprised. Why I’m sure if the Dominion invaded again, I would be right back at the top of Starfleet’s recruitment list.”
Something in the way that Shatterhand spoke made Huntington uneasy. “What do you mean ‘if the Dominion invaded again’? That isn’t going to happen.”
“Isn’t it?,” asked Shatterhand, his eyes flashing with deranged madness. “I had intended to kill you now but I think that I’d like your opinion on a little plan of mine first. Give me his weapons.”
Ingrid walked forward, handing Huntington’s phaser, stun gun, and tricorder over. Shatterhand turned them over in his hands. “Ah, very clever.” He proceeded to crush them to dust, eliciting a gasp from Tilmoore. “That could have proven to be very tricky if Velik hadn’t warned us.”
“Velik…”
“Oh, my! Hadn’t you guessed who hired me? Seventeen, bring them.”
The Jem’Hadar prodded them onwards while the group set off behind Shatterhand. He led them to the end of the Hanger Bay where a cargo lift waited. As it rose creakily upwards, Huntington questioned Shatterhand.
“I take it that Velik survived the explosion?”
“Oh, yes. He managed to make it off of Ferenginar with a modest amount of latinum. It’s taken him years to accumulate enough wealth to hire me but he wanted the best.”
“Where is he?”
Shatterhand laughed, genuinely amused. “Why? Are you going to track him down? My dear Commander Huntington, within the hour, you’ll be dead.”
“Humor me,” Adam said with a lopsided grin,” if you would?”
Shatterhand paused for a moment before laughing. “Why not? He’s on Argelius II. He owns a Bolian theme pub.”
“Thanks. Now then, what’s this plan of yours?”
“Ah, yes,” Shatterhand said as the lift stopped, revealing a narrow walkway that hung over the Hangar Deck before disappearing off into the distance. As they walked onto it, Shatterhand first, followed by Huntington, then Seventeen, then Tilmoore, then Ingrid, and with Klaah bringing up the rear. As they passed beyond the space above the Hangar Bay and into another chamber, Huntington looked down upon a scene that caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise.
“Good God,” he muttered.
“Impressive, isn’t it?,” Shatterhand asked as he drew to a stop.
Twenty meters below them was a Cargo Bay and its cargo was alive. He wasn’t sure how many Jem’Hadar were down there but there were a lot of them.
“There are sixty-two of them,” Shatterhand said, almost as if he had read Huntington’s thoughts. Below them, the Jem’Hadar paced up and down, their armor and rifles gleaming in the semi-darkness like caged animals waiting to be released.
“Where did you find them?”
“After the war, you would be amazed how many ting Dominion outposts there were that Starfleet missed in the initial sweeps. I believe that they were stationed on Delta Vega.”
“How do you control them?”
“I have a large supply of Ketracel White on hand. Plus I’ve promised them glorious battle in defense of the Founders.”
“Just what is your plan?”
“I’m planning a little war. Shortly, I’ll be leaving this ship in the hands of Seventeen here. He’s the First. After which, this freighter will be traveling to Vulcan.” Shatterhand let the implications settle into Huntington’s mind before he continued. “Imagine how much death and destruction that they’ll cause when they disembark.”
Huntington shook his head. “No one will believe that it was a Dominion attack.”
“Ohm they will. Especially since this ship was seen emerging from the wormhole just a month or so ago. I’ve also got a few dozen Klingon troops in the Gamma Quadrant in a surplus Bird of Prey, eager to engage the Dominion in a few hit-and-run attacks once I give the order. I’m not expecting war right away but certainly heightened tensions will follow. A few more incidents and I’ll be back on the side of the Good Guys.”
“All of that death and destruction because Starfleet hurt your feelings?,” Huntington asked him, keeping his gaze downwards. “What if they don’t get the signal?”
“Why wouldn’t I send the signal?,” asked Shatterhand.
He looked up and smiled. “Humor me again?”
Shatterhand sighed. “They will return home after a specified period but that’s all academic. So, what do you think?,” he asked loudly, his arms outstretched as if he was trying to grasp the enormity of his plan.
“It could work. Except for one thing.”
“What’s that?,” came Klaah’s voice from the rear.
“The Wizard of Oz.”
“Huh?,” asked Klaah.
“What are you talking about?,” demanded Shatterhand.
Adam said nothing. Instead he merely clicked his heels three times and vanished.
“What?!,” Shatterhand roared. “Where is he?!” He swept his arms through the air where the Security Officer had just been standing.
Seventeen’s nostrils flared, trying to acquire the scent of his target. He was close. He knew that, but how close? So intent on using his senses, he was completely unprepared and off-balance when he was shoved hard in the back, tumbling over the guard rail and dropping into the morass of Jem’Hadar below. As he watched Seventeen go over the edge, Shatterhand raised his right hand, his palm flat out and pointed it back along the walkway. Suddenly a series of narrow blue phaser beams shot out from the top of his middle finger, laying down a curtain of fire along the walkway.
The first few shots were so off-target that Tilmoore and Ingrid had a moment to duck below his weapons fire. Klaah was too slow and took a hit to the shoulder that threw him onto his back with force. As the spray of phaser blasts continued unabated above them, the ensign took her change and lunged out at the other woman, rolling on top of her. She grabbed at her wrists, stopping her from bringing her disruptor to bear.
Shatterhand was oblivious to the struggle of the two women, his eyes wild with rage and his face flushed while he fired wildly. At this point, Huntington reappeared just behind the Vulcan, tapping him on the shoulder.
“Looking for me?,” he asked as the Vulcan turned towards him.
Adam swung a right hook that connected with the right side of Shatterhand’s face, knocking him sideways against the guard rail. As the Vulcan caught his breath, he began to bring his hand-phaser to bear but the other man was too quick. Striding quickly across the walkway with his left arm outstretched parallel to him, he caught Shatterhand in a vicious strike across his neck that catapulted him over the edge and downward. He clutched at the handrail and looking down, he watched as Shatterhand bounded onto a group of Jem’Hadar. They immediately began to claw at him, a chorus of animalistic roars rising up from the depths below. He had probably kept them hungry for Ketracel White, all the better to cause havoc on Vulcan. As he watched, he saw a few blue energy surges as Shatterhand fired into the morass of hellspawned creatures around him. The energy surges became less and less until they were finally over.
Turning back to the walkway, his shoulders dropped at what he saw.
Tilmoore had the initial advantage from being on top of Ingrid. This gave her the added leverage to wrestle the Romulan disruptor from her hands. She had been unable to hold onto it with Ingrid struggling beneath her. So she had taken the only other logical step and managed to throw it over the side. At this point, the redhead had managed to build up enough momentum to roll them over and take the upper position. As her hands closed around her throat, she began to squeeze, tighter and tighter, eager to drain the life out of the young Starfleet officer.
Tilmoore was gasping for breath but she was unable to get any. Her lungs began to burn with the emptiness and she began to see spots before her eyes. She had her hands grasped around Ingrid’s wrists but to no avail, the other woman was stronger and she wondered if the last sight that she would ever see would be Ingrid’s face twisted into a hideous mask of rage. She was on the verge of giving up the struggle and allowing herself to die when a tiny spark flared in her mind. She and Commander Huntington had cheated death numerous times in the past twenty-four hours and she would be damned if she was going to die like this.
She grimaced, rage building on her own face now and she managed to gasp out the word “No!” defiantly as she brought her knee up between Ingrid’s legs with all of the force that she could muster. It wasn’t enough to stop the other woman but it did cause her a moment of pain. That was all the distraction that she needed.
Tilmoore tightened her grip on Ingrid’s wrists, digging her nails into the other woman’s flesh until she drew blood. With her literally last ounce of strength, she managed to pull Ingrid’s hands away from her throat. Gulping in a huge breath of air, she raised up on her elbows and headbutted Ingrid square in the face. The burst of pain hurt like Hell but it was worth it when she saw blood and a look of pain on the other woman’s face.
Using her newfound freedom of movement, she sat up, pushing her further away. Before the redhead could get her bearings, Tilmoore followed up with a vicious karate chop to the side of Ingrid’s neck. The other woman went limp and fell away.
The ensign began filling her lungs with all of the air that she could. Looking along the walkway, she saw Huntington standing and looking over the railing. There was no sign of Shatterhand. As he turned towards her, she smiled at him but his face was furrowed and focused behind her. She was still wondering why when someone grasped the collar of her shirt and dragged her to her feet.
His shoulder blackened and smoking, Klaah pulled Tilmoore up and held her rigidly, his left hand tight on her neck. In his right hand, held limply, was a disruptor.
“Nice try, Starfleet,” he grunted,” but the game isn’t over yet.”
Huntington looked around him. On the floor was Seventeen’s rifle. There were no other weapons in sight.
“It’s over, Klaah. Shatterhand is dead.”
“Yes, but I’m still very much alive,” the Klingon said, jerking Tilmoore around like a ragdoll. “And if you want to see this girl alive again, you’ll let me get away.”
“I thought that the Klingons didn’t take hostages,” Huntington asked him. “It’s not very honorable to hide behind a defenseless girl, is it?”
Klaah snorted. “As my grandfather used to say, ‘There’s nothing that brings more honor than victory’.”
“Come on, Klaah. I’m just a puny Human. You don’t need the girl.”
Klaah took a step back, dragging Tilmoore with him. Huntington watched his eyes and he could see that he was considering something. He knew that if he let Klaah go, the girl was as good as dead.
“What’s the matter, Klaah? Have you been a Vulcan’s lapdog for so long that you’ve forgotten how to make your own decisions?”
“Shut up!,” shouted Klaah.
“Come on! You don’t need the girl or the gun. You’re a Klingon warrior. Or maybe you’re so old that you have to rely on the tactics of a Romulan.”
That did it. Klaah tossed Tilmoore behind him. Switching the disruptor to his left hand, he aimed at Huntington.
He smiled. “Would it help you if I turned around so you can shoot me in the back, Romulan?,” he asked, spitting out the word Romulan with as much disdain as he could manage.
Klaah’s blood lust was rising. He had hidden behind young eager men for years but in his heart, he was a warrior. He tossed the disruptor aside and drew his d’k’tahg blade. Emitting an animalistic roar, he charged and Huntington charged back. Both men ran at each other, the meters between them vanished within seconds. Just before they were about to collide, the Human dropped into a baseball slide, taking Klaah’s legs out from under him. The old Klingon flew over the top of him, landing face-first on the metal walkway and knocking himself out.
Adam stood up, kicking the dagger over the side. He picked up the Jem’Hadar rifle and Klaah’s disruptor. Walking over to Tilmoore, he found her standing in awe. “I can’t believe that you did that!”
He handed her the disruptor before casting a look back over Klaah’s prone body. “Klingons are so damned predictable.”
“Where the hell do you go?”
Huntington tapped his boots on the floor. “Holo-emitters in the boots. Once activated, they produce a holographic cloak for twenty seconds. They’re actually based on Jem’Hadar technology. I’m surprised that Seventeen couldn’t spot me.”
“You wear those all the time?”
“No. I replicated them earlier.”
“But you said…,” Tilmoore started to say.
“I’m sorry. I like to have, at least, one trick up my sleeve. For all that I knew, you could have been working for them,” he said with a smile.
Tilmoore smiled back. “Now what?”
“Now we take over this ship and head for Callak III to drop our cargo off with Starfleet and warn them about Shatterhand’s Bird of Prey in the Gamma Quadrant.”
“Then you’ll be off to Earth and I’ll be back on a shuttle run.”
“Well, I’ll be off to Earth, but let’s talk about that shuttle run,” Adam said as they headed back along the walkway. “Tell me. Have you ever considered a career change? Maybe something in Security?”
“Now I know who you are,” Adam said
“Really?,” asked Shatterhand. “Please enlighten us.”
Huntington gave a tiny laugh. “I’ve read the file. Doctor Shatterhand, formerly a Vulcan surgeon. I’m sorry that I can’t recall your real name right now. Anyways, a very talented surgeon but with a very cosmopolitan attitude. He could have worked at the prestigious Sha’leah Institute but he chose to practice away from Vulcan instead. He spent several decades practicing on a variety of different worlds. Then, about ten years ago, you were asked to save the life of a very important Klingon. M’Rashk, the head of a very powerful House.”
“You’re good,” said Shatterhand.
“Good memory. Anyways, you failed to save M’Rashk and in a fit of rage, his son had your hands smashed.” Huntington leaded forward, his tone dropped to a whisper. “I take it that’s where Shatterhand comes from?”
When Shatterhand nodded, a surreal smile grew on his face. Huntington leaned back and resumed in his normal voice. “After that, you dropped out of sight for a year. When you returned, it was as an assassin for hire. A very good one, apparently. Presumably since you couldn’t save lives anymore, you decided on the polar opposite, taking them.”
“Something like that.”
“Since then, several confirmed hits in a year. You’re on the Federation’s Most Wanted List but very clever. We’ve never come close to catching you. That’s it, really. Apart from one quite obvious point.”
“Which is?”
“Your obvious insanity,” said Huntington, deadpan.
Shatterhand shook his head. “There is a fine line…”
“Between genius and insanity.” Huntington shook his own head. “You would be amazed how often I've heard that.”
Shatterhand lanced forward, his right hand grabbing him by the throat. His face was a mask of anger as he leaned in close. “You think that you’re so clever, don’t you? So clever that you walked right into my bar on Merix. MY BAR!,” he screamed. “And I’ll tell you something else that you don’t know.”
“What?,” gasped Huntington.
Shatterhand let him drop to the floor. Adam gasped for breath as Tilmoore dropped beside him. “Are you okay?,” she asked him.
“I’m fine,” he answered croakily, rubbing his neck. “What else don’t I know, Shatterhand?”
Shatterhand was calm now. “Do you know that during the Dominion War, I worked for Starfleet Intelligence? I can tell by the shocked expression on your face that you didn’t. No mind. I carried out numerous assignments for them and helped them win the war for the Alpha Quadrant. And my reward? Back on the Most Wanted List, the moment that the surrender was signed.”
“You expected a medal?,” Huntington asked him as he let Tilmoore help him to his feet.
“I expected some consideration. I expected to keep working for you.”
Huntington shook his head. “That would never happen. We might have been desperate enough to use you once but never again.”
“You would be surprised. Why I’m sure if the Dominion invaded again, I would be right back at the top of Starfleet’s recruitment list.”
Something in the way that Shatterhand spoke made Huntington uneasy. “What do you mean ‘if the Dominion invaded again’? That isn’t going to happen.”
“Isn’t it?,” asked Shatterhand, his eyes flashing with deranged madness. “I had intended to kill you now but I think that I’d like your opinion on a little plan of mine first. Give me his weapons.”
Ingrid walked forward, handing Huntington’s phaser, stun gun, and tricorder over. Shatterhand turned them over in his hands. “Ah, very clever.” He proceeded to crush them to dust, eliciting a gasp from Tilmoore. “That could have proven to be very tricky if Velik hadn’t warned us.”
“Velik…”
“Oh, my! Hadn’t you guessed who hired me? Seventeen, bring them.”
The Jem’Hadar prodded them onwards while the group set off behind Shatterhand. He led them to the end of the Hanger Bay where a cargo lift waited. As it rose creakily upwards, Huntington questioned Shatterhand.
“I take it that Velik survived the explosion?”
“Oh, yes. He managed to make it off of Ferenginar with a modest amount of latinum. It’s taken him years to accumulate enough wealth to hire me but he wanted the best.”
“Where is he?”
Shatterhand laughed, genuinely amused. “Why? Are you going to track him down? My dear Commander Huntington, within the hour, you’ll be dead.”
“Humor me,” Adam said with a lopsided grin,” if you would?”
Shatterhand paused for a moment before laughing. “Why not? He’s on Argelius II. He owns a Bolian theme pub.”
“Thanks. Now then, what’s this plan of yours?”
“Ah, yes,” Shatterhand said as the lift stopped, revealing a narrow walkway that hung over the Hangar Deck before disappearing off into the distance. As they walked onto it, Shatterhand first, followed by Huntington, then Seventeen, then Tilmoore, then Ingrid, and with Klaah bringing up the rear. As they passed beyond the space above the Hangar Bay and into another chamber, Huntington looked down upon a scene that caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise.
“Good God,” he muttered.
“Impressive, isn’t it?,” Shatterhand asked as he drew to a stop.
Twenty meters below them was a Cargo Bay and its cargo was alive. He wasn’t sure how many Jem’Hadar were down there but there were a lot of them.
“There are sixty-two of them,” Shatterhand said, almost as if he had read Huntington’s thoughts. Below them, the Jem’Hadar paced up and down, their armor and rifles gleaming in the semi-darkness like caged animals waiting to be released.
“Where did you find them?”
“After the war, you would be amazed how many ting Dominion outposts there were that Starfleet missed in the initial sweeps. I believe that they were stationed on Delta Vega.”
“How do you control them?”
“I have a large supply of Ketracel White on hand. Plus I’ve promised them glorious battle in defense of the Founders.”
“Just what is your plan?”
“I’m planning a little war. Shortly, I’ll be leaving this ship in the hands of Seventeen here. He’s the First. After which, this freighter will be traveling to Vulcan.” Shatterhand let the implications settle into Huntington’s mind before he continued. “Imagine how much death and destruction that they’ll cause when they disembark.”
Huntington shook his head. “No one will believe that it was a Dominion attack.”
“Ohm they will. Especially since this ship was seen emerging from the wormhole just a month or so ago. I’ve also got a few dozen Klingon troops in the Gamma Quadrant in a surplus Bird of Prey, eager to engage the Dominion in a few hit-and-run attacks once I give the order. I’m not expecting war right away but certainly heightened tensions will follow. A few more incidents and I’ll be back on the side of the Good Guys.”
“All of that death and destruction because Starfleet hurt your feelings?,” Huntington asked him, keeping his gaze downwards. “What if they don’t get the signal?”
“Why wouldn’t I send the signal?,” asked Shatterhand.
He looked up and smiled. “Humor me again?”
Shatterhand sighed. “They will return home after a specified period but that’s all academic. So, what do you think?,” he asked loudly, his arms outstretched as if he was trying to grasp the enormity of his plan.
“It could work. Except for one thing.”
“What’s that?,” came Klaah’s voice from the rear.
“The Wizard of Oz.”
“Huh?,” asked Klaah.
“What are you talking about?,” demanded Shatterhand.
Adam said nothing. Instead he merely clicked his heels three times and vanished.
“What?!,” Shatterhand roared. “Where is he?!” He swept his arms through the air where the Security Officer had just been standing.
Seventeen’s nostrils flared, trying to acquire the scent of his target. He was close. He knew that, but how close? So intent on using his senses, he was completely unprepared and off-balance when he was shoved hard in the back, tumbling over the guard rail and dropping into the morass of Jem’Hadar below. As he watched Seventeen go over the edge, Shatterhand raised his right hand, his palm flat out and pointed it back along the walkway. Suddenly a series of narrow blue phaser beams shot out from the top of his middle finger, laying down a curtain of fire along the walkway.
The first few shots were so off-target that Tilmoore and Ingrid had a moment to duck below his weapons fire. Klaah was too slow and took a hit to the shoulder that threw him onto his back with force. As the spray of phaser blasts continued unabated above them, the ensign took her change and lunged out at the other woman, rolling on top of her. She grabbed at her wrists, stopping her from bringing her disruptor to bear.
Shatterhand was oblivious to the struggle of the two women, his eyes wild with rage and his face flushed while he fired wildly. At this point, Huntington reappeared just behind the Vulcan, tapping him on the shoulder.
“Looking for me?,” he asked as the Vulcan turned towards him.
Adam swung a right hook that connected with the right side of Shatterhand’s face, knocking him sideways against the guard rail. As the Vulcan caught his breath, he began to bring his hand-phaser to bear but the other man was too quick. Striding quickly across the walkway with his left arm outstretched parallel to him, he caught Shatterhand in a vicious strike across his neck that catapulted him over the edge and downward. He clutched at the handrail and looking down, he watched as Shatterhand bounded onto a group of Jem’Hadar. They immediately began to claw at him, a chorus of animalistic roars rising up from the depths below. He had probably kept them hungry for Ketracel White, all the better to cause havoc on Vulcan. As he watched, he saw a few blue energy surges as Shatterhand fired into the morass of hellspawned creatures around him. The energy surges became less and less until they were finally over.
Turning back to the walkway, his shoulders dropped at what he saw.
Tilmoore had the initial advantage from being on top of Ingrid. This gave her the added leverage to wrestle the Romulan disruptor from her hands. She had been unable to hold onto it with Ingrid struggling beneath her. So she had taken the only other logical step and managed to throw it over the side. At this point, the redhead had managed to build up enough momentum to roll them over and take the upper position. As her hands closed around her throat, she began to squeeze, tighter and tighter, eager to drain the life out of the young Starfleet officer.
Tilmoore was gasping for breath but she was unable to get any. Her lungs began to burn with the emptiness and she began to see spots before her eyes. She had her hands grasped around Ingrid’s wrists but to no avail, the other woman was stronger and she wondered if the last sight that she would ever see would be Ingrid’s face twisted into a hideous mask of rage. She was on the verge of giving up the struggle and allowing herself to die when a tiny spark flared in her mind. She and Commander Huntington had cheated death numerous times in the past twenty-four hours and she would be damned if she was going to die like this.
She grimaced, rage building on her own face now and she managed to gasp out the word “No!” defiantly as she brought her knee up between Ingrid’s legs with all of the force that she could muster. It wasn’t enough to stop the other woman but it did cause her a moment of pain. That was all the distraction that she needed.
Tilmoore tightened her grip on Ingrid’s wrists, digging her nails into the other woman’s flesh until she drew blood. With her literally last ounce of strength, she managed to pull Ingrid’s hands away from her throat. Gulping in a huge breath of air, she raised up on her elbows and headbutted Ingrid square in the face. The burst of pain hurt like Hell but it was worth it when she saw blood and a look of pain on the other woman’s face.
Using her newfound freedom of movement, she sat up, pushing her further away. Before the redhead could get her bearings, Tilmoore followed up with a vicious karate chop to the side of Ingrid’s neck. The other woman went limp and fell away.
The ensign began filling her lungs with all of the air that she could. Looking along the walkway, she saw Huntington standing and looking over the railing. There was no sign of Shatterhand. As he turned towards her, she smiled at him but his face was furrowed and focused behind her. She was still wondering why when someone grasped the collar of her shirt and dragged her to her feet.
His shoulder blackened and smoking, Klaah pulled Tilmoore up and held her rigidly, his left hand tight on her neck. In his right hand, held limply, was a disruptor.
“Nice try, Starfleet,” he grunted,” but the game isn’t over yet.”
Huntington looked around him. On the floor was Seventeen’s rifle. There were no other weapons in sight.
“It’s over, Klaah. Shatterhand is dead.”
“Yes, but I’m still very much alive,” the Klingon said, jerking Tilmoore around like a ragdoll. “And if you want to see this girl alive again, you’ll let me get away.”
“I thought that the Klingons didn’t take hostages,” Huntington asked him. “It’s not very honorable to hide behind a defenseless girl, is it?”
Klaah snorted. “As my grandfather used to say, ‘There’s nothing that brings more honor than victory’.”
“Come on, Klaah. I’m just a puny Human. You don’t need the girl.”
Klaah took a step back, dragging Tilmoore with him. Huntington watched his eyes and he could see that he was considering something. He knew that if he let Klaah go, the girl was as good as dead.
“What’s the matter, Klaah? Have you been a Vulcan’s lapdog for so long that you’ve forgotten how to make your own decisions?”
“Shut up!,” shouted Klaah.
“Come on! You don’t need the girl or the gun. You’re a Klingon warrior. Or maybe you’re so old that you have to rely on the tactics of a Romulan.”
That did it. Klaah tossed Tilmoore behind him. Switching the disruptor to his left hand, he aimed at Huntington.
He smiled. “Would it help you if I turned around so you can shoot me in the back, Romulan?,” he asked, spitting out the word Romulan with as much disdain as he could manage.
Klaah’s blood lust was rising. He had hidden behind young eager men for years but in his heart, he was a warrior. He tossed the disruptor aside and drew his d’k’tahg blade. Emitting an animalistic roar, he charged and Huntington charged back. Both men ran at each other, the meters between them vanished within seconds. Just before they were about to collide, the Human dropped into a baseball slide, taking Klaah’s legs out from under him. The old Klingon flew over the top of him, landing face-first on the metal walkway and knocking himself out.
Adam stood up, kicking the dagger over the side. He picked up the Jem’Hadar rifle and Klaah’s disruptor. Walking over to Tilmoore, he found her standing in awe. “I can’t believe that you did that!”
He handed her the disruptor before casting a look back over Klaah’s prone body. “Klingons are so damned predictable.”
“Where the hell do you go?”
Huntington tapped his boots on the floor. “Holo-emitters in the boots. Once activated, they produce a holographic cloak for twenty seconds. They’re actually based on Jem’Hadar technology. I’m surprised that Seventeen couldn’t spot me.”
“You wear those all the time?”
“No. I replicated them earlier.”
“But you said…,” Tilmoore started to say.
“I’m sorry. I like to have, at least, one trick up my sleeve. For all that I knew, you could have been working for them,” he said with a smile.
Tilmoore smiled back. “Now what?”
“Now we take over this ship and head for Callak III to drop our cargo off with Starfleet and warn them about Shatterhand’s Bird of Prey in the Gamma Quadrant.”
“Then you’ll be off to Earth and I’ll be back on a shuttle run.”
“Well, I’ll be off to Earth, but let’s talk about that shuttle run,” Adam said as they headed back along the walkway. “Tell me. Have you ever considered a career change? Maybe something in Security?”
Epilogue
Several days later…
It was nighttime on Argelius II. The narrow streets were darkened and a light mist hung close to the ground. The streets were empty.
The pub was called ‘The Blue Bar’. A picture of a smiling Bolian was painted on the windows and there were signs that promised authentic Bolian food and drink. The bar was closed now as its staff and customers had long since left for the night.
Upstairs in a large bedroom, Velik slept soundly, snoring loudly and dreaming of Bajoran women. He didn’t hear as the door to his bedroom opened and a figure dressed head-to-toe in black entered, carrying a large box. The figure paused, looking at the sleeping Ferengi, mesmerized by the gross large-eared being’s chest rising and falling.
Finally the dark figure dropped the box on the floor. It hit with a loud crash and Velik awoke with a start.
“What?! What?! Who’s there?!,” he shouted as he activated the lights and grabbed a phaser from underneath his pillow. The figure in black stood still. A Federation Type-II phaser was holstered at his hip but he made no attempt to get it.
“Who are you?,” Velik asked. “I won’t ask again.” There was a pause and then he said,” Okay, you asked for it,” before he pointed his weapon and pressed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
The figure in black pulled his hood off. “I deactivated every weapon in the building, an hour ago,” Adam Huntington said before he drew his phaser. “Except for this one, of course.”
Velik squealed when he recognized him. “You!,” she shouted. “But you… you should be…”
“Dead? I’m afraid that you should have hired better. Shatterhand was too engrossed in his own plans to concentrate too much on killing me.”
Velik had dropped his phaser and pulled his sheet up to his chin, hiding behind a thin layer of material as if it would protect him.
“Now, hiring someone to kill me isn’t very nice.”
“You ruined me.”
Huntington shook his head. “Not so. Look at you, alive, healthy, and quite well off. You’re certainly a damn sight better than the girls that you used to peddle. That wasn’t enough for you, was it? You should have been sitting in a penal colony right now but you got clean away. We assumed that you were dead. You were free and clear. But now you’re back on the Federation’s radar. Twenty-seven outstanding warrants within the Federation and on Ferenginar have been reactivated. If I was you, I’d start running.”
“You’re not taking me in?”
“Too much paperwork.”
Velik was terrified now. “You’re… you’re going to kill me!,” he squealed again and hid underneath the sheet.
“If I was going to kill you, I would have done it by now. Anyways, I’ll be leaving now so you should get packing.” Huntington turned around and walked towards the door. As he opened it, he turned back towards Velik. “Oh, and thank you, by the way.”
“What for?,” the Ferengi asked nervously.
“For the generous donation that you made to the Cardassian Relief Fund.”
“I haven’t made any donations.”
“Yes, you did. In fact, you emptied both of your bank accounts on Risa and Orion.”
Velik was whining now, a constant low hum escaping from his lips. “All of it?,” he asked.
“Every last strip. Oh, but you have this,” he said, kicking the box on the floor.
Velik nervously edged forward, the sheet still clutched to his chin. “What’s in the box?,” he asked nervously.
“Every strip, slip, or bar of gold-pressed latinum in the building. Even the bars that you hid underneath the floorboards.”
“Why?”
“Answer me a question,” Huntington said. “What’s the Eighteenth Rule of Acquisition?”
Velik racked his brains for a moment. “A Ferengi without profit…,” he began.
“... is no Ferengi at all,” Adam finished before he vaporized the box.
“Nooo!,” screamed Velik.
Huntington opened the door and walked through it. “Next time, I won’t be so merciful,” he said before he closed the door on the now penniless and hunted Ferengi.
The End.
Several days later…
It was nighttime on Argelius II. The narrow streets were darkened and a light mist hung close to the ground. The streets were empty.
The pub was called ‘The Blue Bar’. A picture of a smiling Bolian was painted on the windows and there were signs that promised authentic Bolian food and drink. The bar was closed now as its staff and customers had long since left for the night.
Upstairs in a large bedroom, Velik slept soundly, snoring loudly and dreaming of Bajoran women. He didn’t hear as the door to his bedroom opened and a figure dressed head-to-toe in black entered, carrying a large box. The figure paused, looking at the sleeping Ferengi, mesmerized by the gross large-eared being’s chest rising and falling.
Finally the dark figure dropped the box on the floor. It hit with a loud crash and Velik awoke with a start.
“What?! What?! Who’s there?!,” he shouted as he activated the lights and grabbed a phaser from underneath his pillow. The figure in black stood still. A Federation Type-II phaser was holstered at his hip but he made no attempt to get it.
“Who are you?,” Velik asked. “I won’t ask again.” There was a pause and then he said,” Okay, you asked for it,” before he pointed his weapon and pressed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
The figure in black pulled his hood off. “I deactivated every weapon in the building, an hour ago,” Adam Huntington said before he drew his phaser. “Except for this one, of course.”
Velik squealed when he recognized him. “You!,” she shouted. “But you… you should be…”
“Dead? I’m afraid that you should have hired better. Shatterhand was too engrossed in his own plans to concentrate too much on killing me.”
Velik had dropped his phaser and pulled his sheet up to his chin, hiding behind a thin layer of material as if it would protect him.
“Now, hiring someone to kill me isn’t very nice.”
“You ruined me.”
Huntington shook his head. “Not so. Look at you, alive, healthy, and quite well off. You’re certainly a damn sight better than the girls that you used to peddle. That wasn’t enough for you, was it? You should have been sitting in a penal colony right now but you got clean away. We assumed that you were dead. You were free and clear. But now you’re back on the Federation’s radar. Twenty-seven outstanding warrants within the Federation and on Ferenginar have been reactivated. If I was you, I’d start running.”
“You’re not taking me in?”
“Too much paperwork.”
Velik was terrified now. “You’re… you’re going to kill me!,” he squealed again and hid underneath the sheet.
“If I was going to kill you, I would have done it by now. Anyways, I’ll be leaving now so you should get packing.” Huntington turned around and walked towards the door. As he opened it, he turned back towards Velik. “Oh, and thank you, by the way.”
“What for?,” the Ferengi asked nervously.
“For the generous donation that you made to the Cardassian Relief Fund.”
“I haven’t made any donations.”
“Yes, you did. In fact, you emptied both of your bank accounts on Risa and Orion.”
Velik was whining now, a constant low hum escaping from his lips. “All of it?,” he asked.
“Every last strip. Oh, but you have this,” he said, kicking the box on the floor.
Velik nervously edged forward, the sheet still clutched to his chin. “What’s in the box?,” he asked nervously.
“Every strip, slip, or bar of gold-pressed latinum in the building. Even the bars that you hid underneath the floorboards.”
“Why?”
“Answer me a question,” Huntington said. “What’s the Eighteenth Rule of Acquisition?”
Velik racked his brains for a moment. “A Ferengi without profit…,” he began.
“... is no Ferengi at all,” Adam finished before he vaporized the box.
“Nooo!,” screamed Velik.
Huntington opened the door and walked through it. “Next time, I won’t be so merciful,” he said before he closed the door on the now penniless and hunted Ferengi.
The End.
Quite the unexpected and delightful little story. Totally .007. Bond meets Star Trek. Love it! rbs
Star Trek: Into the Void
06 - ‘Tabula Rasa’
By Jack D. Elmlinger
Prologue
Captain’s Log, Stardate 54548.0;
We’ve cut our mission short to the Zekkry Nebula in response to a distress signal from the Federation science team on Malthea II. Their message was brief but it indicated that they were under attack. I have an awful suspicion as to who their attackers might be.
The starship Testudo hurtled through the void of space at high warp. Its structure was shaking with the effort as its crew worked every last punch of power from its warp core, driving it to higher than usual speeds.
On the Bridge, Isabel Cardonez clung grimly to her command chair, her hands digging deep into the armrests. Her face was a mask of determination. Mentally, she was preparing herself for the combat that she knew was sure to come. It never got any easier. She had been in more firefights than she could remember. Even if she chose to, and it never got any easier. The knot in her stomach was as tight as it had ever been. It was tighter now, probably because she had greater responsibilities than she ever had during the war. Just over one hundred-and-eighty lives rather than the forty or so that her own command had carried.
Next to her sat Commander Yashiro Masafumi, a grave look on his face. He didn’t think of himself as a combat officer. Certainly he had managed to miss the war entirely by luck rather than judgment but he had seen his fair share of action. Although they hadn’t discussed the situation between them, he harbored the same fears as his captain about what they would find in the Malthea system and it filled him with dread. He had been up against them twice and survived both encounters. Very few Starfleet officers could say the same. He silently wondered when his luck would run out.
At the helm console, it was all that Lieutenant Zia Kehen could do to keep the ship on course. They were redlining the warp engines to a point where the automatics were lagging behind and she had to keep manually adjusting their trajectory to stop them veering wildly off-course.
“Speed?,” asked Cardonez.
“Warp Nine-Point-Five-Three and holding,” replied the Yulani helm officer.
Cardonez activated the intercon on her armrest. “Bridge to Engineering. Liz, I need more speed.”
The response was soon coming. It was almost as if Lieutenant Tennyson had been expecting the request. “I’m sorry, Captain, but we’re going as fast as we can. If you want, I can override the safeties but that will only buy us point-zero-four of an increase and it will probably overload the core. This isn’t a new ship, sir. We can’t keep pace with the Intrepids or the Sovereigns. Frankly, I’m amazed that I got us past Warp Nine-Point-Five.”
There wasn’t a trace of arrogance in her voice and Cardonez knew it. If her Chief Engineer said that she was doing the best that she could, then she was.
“Acknowledged, Liz. Try to exceed expectations for a few minutes longer. Bridge out.”
At the Operations station, Lieutenant Valian Kandro was also feeling a twinge of apprehension. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his own. As a Betazoid, he was picking up the feelings of everyone else on the Bridge. And nearly everyone had the same fear. It didn’t frighten him though but it was starting to annoy him.
“Enough already!,” he suddenly cried out.
“Lieutenant?,” asked Masafumi.
Kandro twisted around in his seat until he was facing his commanding officers. “For the love of Rixx, it’s not the Borg!”
If either officer were fazed by his outburst, they didn’t show it.
“Really, Lieutenant? I wasn’t aware that Betazoid telepathy stretched quite that far,” the First Officer said. “On what do you base that assumption?”
“The Borg on Malthea II lost contact with the Collective, a hundred and fifty years ago. Why would the Collective come for them now?”
“That’s a good point. Maybe they’re bothering now because we’ve discovered them. They don’t want us learning their secrets.”
Kandro cocked an eyebrow. “That’s pretty thin, Captain. Their secrets are centuries out of date. It would be like us mounting a mission into Romulan space, just because they uncovered the wreckage of a Constitution-class starship.”
“The Borg don’t exactly think like us, Mister Kandro,” said Masafumi.
“I hate to interrupt such a heartwarming debate,” said Kehen,” but we’re coming up on Malthea II.”
“I guess we’ll know soon enough who’s right, Valian. Take us out of warp, Zia,” Cardonez said before turning slightly so she could glance at the officer manning the Tactical station. “Lieutenant Mason, Red Alert.”
“Aye, sir,” said the dark-skinned Security Officer. “Shields are at maximum power. Phasers and torpedoes are online.” He had accomplished this task with just his right hand. His left hand hung loosely by his side, his fingers crossed. He had one encounter with the Borg. The pain and anguish had been so great that he still had weekly sessions with the Ship’s Counselor. He silently prayed that it wasn’t a Borg attack.
As the ship slowed down, they could finally make out the planet before them. Malthea II was a lush green and white world and it shone brightly against the darkness of space. Tiny flashes of green light were currently descending onto the planet from orbit.
Kandro swung his seat back around to face his console and he was now scanning the immediate area.
“Report!,” barked Cardonez. “Who’s firing on the planet?”
Kandro shot a smug smile over his shoulder. “It isn’t the Borg. That’s for sure.”
The tension level on the Bridge dropped several notches and it was like a huge weight had been lifted from the Betazoid officer’s shoulders.
“Tell me who it is. Not who it isn’t.”
“Aye, sir,” he said. “I’m reading one vessel in low orbit. It appears to be a Mercury-class yacht.”
“On screen,” said Masafumi.
The view was magnified to show a small vessel silhouetted against the planet. The Mercury-class ship was only forty meters in length and it was a flattened ovoid in shape. Its hull was a gleaming silver in color. Twin warp engines hung below the main body of the ship and on the top was a brightly lit compartment that Cardonez assumed was its Bridge. Every few seconds, a bolt of green energy discharged from the ship’s underside and fell towards the planetary surface.
“What are they firing on?,” asked the Captain.
It was Mason who answered her. “They appear to have a Mark-III phase cannon. They’re directing their fire at the Cube on the surface but the shield is holding.”
“Lifesigns?”
“I’m reading six lifesigns aboard,” said Kandro.
“Hail them.”
“No response,” said Mason.
“Mister Mason, fire a warning shot across her bow. Let’s see if that can’t get their attention.”
Mason deftly activated the targeting system and aimed directly ahead of the other ship. A moment later and a single beam of crimson energy lanced out from the Testudo’s saucer section and blazed past the yacht, missing it by a mere few meters. The yacht was oblivious and kept firing.
“Try hailing them again,” said Masafumi.
Mason shook his head. “There’s still no response.”
Cardonez let out a sigh. “Target that ship with one short burst only. We want to disable, not destroy them.”
Mason responded to the order and another phaser beam lanced out. This time, it didn’t miss the yacht. Instead, it flared against their shields.
“Their shields are down to forty percent,” said Kandro. “One more shot and they’re at our mercy.”
“It’s lucky for them that we have some,” said Cardonez. “Try hailing them again.”
“I think we got their attention,” Mason said before the viewscreen changed images to reveal an angry-looking woman. Cardonez estimated that her age was somewhere in the late thirties to early forties bracket. Her hair was short, raven black and despite her gray skin and shoulder ridges, the wrinkled nose testified to the fact that she wasn’t a hundred percent Cardassian.
“I won’t let you stop us!,” she cried out, her eyes wide and her nostrils were flaring.
Cardonez stood up and walked towards the viewscreen until she was standing between the Helm and Operations consoles. “I am Captain Isabel Cardonez of the Federation starship Testudo. You are attacking a Federation outpost. I demand that you cease fire immediately.”
The woman on the viewer shook her head violently. “No! Never! I can’t let you stop us now. Not when we’re so close.”
Cardonez held her hands, palms down in a gesture of peace. “Listen to me. I appreciate that you obviously have issues with the Borg but I cannot allow you to destroy that Cube.”
The woman suddenly emitted a short sound that seemed to be half-way between a grunt and a laugh. “Destroy the Borg?,” she asked as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “We don’t want to destroy the Borg. We want to join them.”
06 - ‘Tabula Rasa’
By Jack D. Elmlinger
Prologue
Captain’s Log, Stardate 54548.0;
We’ve cut our mission short to the Zekkry Nebula in response to a distress signal from the Federation science team on Malthea II. Their message was brief but it indicated that they were under attack. I have an awful suspicion as to who their attackers might be.
The starship Testudo hurtled through the void of space at high warp. Its structure was shaking with the effort as its crew worked every last punch of power from its warp core, driving it to higher than usual speeds.
On the Bridge, Isabel Cardonez clung grimly to her command chair, her hands digging deep into the armrests. Her face was a mask of determination. Mentally, she was preparing herself for the combat that she knew was sure to come. It never got any easier. She had been in more firefights than she could remember. Even if she chose to, and it never got any easier. The knot in her stomach was as tight as it had ever been. It was tighter now, probably because she had greater responsibilities than she ever had during the war. Just over one hundred-and-eighty lives rather than the forty or so that her own command had carried.
Next to her sat Commander Yashiro Masafumi, a grave look on his face. He didn’t think of himself as a combat officer. Certainly he had managed to miss the war entirely by luck rather than judgment but he had seen his fair share of action. Although they hadn’t discussed the situation between them, he harbored the same fears as his captain about what they would find in the Malthea system and it filled him with dread. He had been up against them twice and survived both encounters. Very few Starfleet officers could say the same. He silently wondered when his luck would run out.
At the helm console, it was all that Lieutenant Zia Kehen could do to keep the ship on course. They were redlining the warp engines to a point where the automatics were lagging behind and she had to keep manually adjusting their trajectory to stop them veering wildly off-course.
“Speed?,” asked Cardonez.
“Warp Nine-Point-Five-Three and holding,” replied the Yulani helm officer.
Cardonez activated the intercon on her armrest. “Bridge to Engineering. Liz, I need more speed.”
The response was soon coming. It was almost as if Lieutenant Tennyson had been expecting the request. “I’m sorry, Captain, but we’re going as fast as we can. If you want, I can override the safeties but that will only buy us point-zero-four of an increase and it will probably overload the core. This isn’t a new ship, sir. We can’t keep pace with the Intrepids or the Sovereigns. Frankly, I’m amazed that I got us past Warp Nine-Point-Five.”
There wasn’t a trace of arrogance in her voice and Cardonez knew it. If her Chief Engineer said that she was doing the best that she could, then she was.
“Acknowledged, Liz. Try to exceed expectations for a few minutes longer. Bridge out.”
At the Operations station, Lieutenant Valian Kandro was also feeling a twinge of apprehension. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his own. As a Betazoid, he was picking up the feelings of everyone else on the Bridge. And nearly everyone had the same fear. It didn’t frighten him though but it was starting to annoy him.
“Enough already!,” he suddenly cried out.
“Lieutenant?,” asked Masafumi.
Kandro twisted around in his seat until he was facing his commanding officers. “For the love of Rixx, it’s not the Borg!”
If either officer were fazed by his outburst, they didn’t show it.
“Really, Lieutenant? I wasn’t aware that Betazoid telepathy stretched quite that far,” the First Officer said. “On what do you base that assumption?”
“The Borg on Malthea II lost contact with the Collective, a hundred and fifty years ago. Why would the Collective come for them now?”
“That’s a good point. Maybe they’re bothering now because we’ve discovered them. They don’t want us learning their secrets.”
Kandro cocked an eyebrow. “That’s pretty thin, Captain. Their secrets are centuries out of date. It would be like us mounting a mission into Romulan space, just because they uncovered the wreckage of a Constitution-class starship.”
“The Borg don’t exactly think like us, Mister Kandro,” said Masafumi.
“I hate to interrupt such a heartwarming debate,” said Kehen,” but we’re coming up on Malthea II.”
“I guess we’ll know soon enough who’s right, Valian. Take us out of warp, Zia,” Cardonez said before turning slightly so she could glance at the officer manning the Tactical station. “Lieutenant Mason, Red Alert.”
“Aye, sir,” said the dark-skinned Security Officer. “Shields are at maximum power. Phasers and torpedoes are online.” He had accomplished this task with just his right hand. His left hand hung loosely by his side, his fingers crossed. He had one encounter with the Borg. The pain and anguish had been so great that he still had weekly sessions with the Ship’s Counselor. He silently prayed that it wasn’t a Borg attack.
As the ship slowed down, they could finally make out the planet before them. Malthea II was a lush green and white world and it shone brightly against the darkness of space. Tiny flashes of green light were currently descending onto the planet from orbit.
Kandro swung his seat back around to face his console and he was now scanning the immediate area.
“Report!,” barked Cardonez. “Who’s firing on the planet?”
Kandro shot a smug smile over his shoulder. “It isn’t the Borg. That’s for sure.”
The tension level on the Bridge dropped several notches and it was like a huge weight had been lifted from the Betazoid officer’s shoulders.
“Tell me who it is. Not who it isn’t.”
“Aye, sir,” he said. “I’m reading one vessel in low orbit. It appears to be a Mercury-class yacht.”
“On screen,” said Masafumi.
The view was magnified to show a small vessel silhouetted against the planet. The Mercury-class ship was only forty meters in length and it was a flattened ovoid in shape. Its hull was a gleaming silver in color. Twin warp engines hung below the main body of the ship and on the top was a brightly lit compartment that Cardonez assumed was its Bridge. Every few seconds, a bolt of green energy discharged from the ship’s underside and fell towards the planetary surface.
“What are they firing on?,” asked the Captain.
It was Mason who answered her. “They appear to have a Mark-III phase cannon. They’re directing their fire at the Cube on the surface but the shield is holding.”
“Lifesigns?”
“I’m reading six lifesigns aboard,” said Kandro.
“Hail them.”
“No response,” said Mason.
“Mister Mason, fire a warning shot across her bow. Let’s see if that can’t get their attention.”
Mason deftly activated the targeting system and aimed directly ahead of the other ship. A moment later and a single beam of crimson energy lanced out from the Testudo’s saucer section and blazed past the yacht, missing it by a mere few meters. The yacht was oblivious and kept firing.
“Try hailing them again,” said Masafumi.
Mason shook his head. “There’s still no response.”
Cardonez let out a sigh. “Target that ship with one short burst only. We want to disable, not destroy them.”
Mason responded to the order and another phaser beam lanced out. This time, it didn’t miss the yacht. Instead, it flared against their shields.
“Their shields are down to forty percent,” said Kandro. “One more shot and they’re at our mercy.”
“It’s lucky for them that we have some,” said Cardonez. “Try hailing them again.”
“I think we got their attention,” Mason said before the viewscreen changed images to reveal an angry-looking woman. Cardonez estimated that her age was somewhere in the late thirties to early forties bracket. Her hair was short, raven black and despite her gray skin and shoulder ridges, the wrinkled nose testified to the fact that she wasn’t a hundred percent Cardassian.
“I won’t let you stop us!,” she cried out, her eyes wide and her nostrils were flaring.
Cardonez stood up and walked towards the viewscreen until she was standing between the Helm and Operations consoles. “I am Captain Isabel Cardonez of the Federation starship Testudo. You are attacking a Federation outpost. I demand that you cease fire immediately.”
The woman on the viewer shook her head violently. “No! Never! I can’t let you stop us now. Not when we’re so close.”
Cardonez held her hands, palms down in a gesture of peace. “Listen to me. I appreciate that you obviously have issues with the Borg but I cannot allow you to destroy that Cube.”
The woman suddenly emitted a short sound that seemed to be half-way between a grunt and a laugh. “Destroy the Borg?,” she asked as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “We don’t want to destroy the Borg. We want to join them.”
Shoot at them because you want to join them? Looks like we have one rather confused bajoridassian...
Thanks!! rbs
Thanks!! rbs
Chapter One
Captain Cardonez didn’t bat an eyelid. “It doesn’t matter to me what your reasons are. You are firing on a Federation outpost. If you don’t stop firing, I’ll have no alternative than to use force to stop you.”
For a moment, the Cardassian/Bajoran woman locked eyes with her. The Testudo’s Captain stared straight back at her, unflinching. Then the viewscreen went dark for a moment until an image of the yacht reappeared. A few tense seconds passed by and the other ship appeared to have stopped firing but it made no other moves.
“Status of that ship?,” barked Masafumi.
“They’ve stopped firing but their weapons and shields are still charged,” replied Mason.
“I guess they’re thinking about it,” said Kehen.
Cardonez turned away from the viewscreen. “Mister Mason, keep a lock on them. Be ready to fire phasers if they resume any signs of an aggressive act.”
He nodded. “Aye, Captain.”
Cardonez returned to her seat. “Valian, what’s the status of the science team?”
“I’m not sure. The outpost appears to be intact but I’m reading substantial wreckage on the landing pad. It looks like their ship was destroyed. I am reading eight lifesigns though.”
“That was the team’s complement,” said Masafumi.
“Yes, it looks like our friends out there aren’t killers. Lieutenant Mason, hail them. It’s taking too long.”
“Patience is a virtue, you know,” muttered Masafumi.
“Yeah, but I’m tired,” she said with a smile. “I don’t want this dragging on any longer than it has to.”
“I have a signal,” reported Mason.
“On screen.”
The image on the viewscreen changed again to show the woman who, Cardonez assumed, was in command of the other ship.
“Hello again,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder where you were.”
“We were talking amongst ourselves and deciding what to do.”
“And?”
“And we realize that we won’t attain our goal if we continue to attack the surface,” she replied.
“That’s correct,” said Masafumi. “Given the power of your weapon, I would estimate that it would have taken twenty more minutes worth of firing to weaken the shield to a point where you could beam through it. We would be able to disable your ship long before then.”
The woman on the viewscreen scowled at him. “We might not have a powerful ship like yourselves but I think that you’ll find that if we had crashed our ship into the shields, the resultant explosion would have been powerful enough to collapse it!”
Masafumi entered commands into the panel beside him. “Correct,” he said with a raised eyebrow.
“So why didn’t you?,” asked Cardonez.
“We decided that it had little hope of success. We would have to beam down to the surface or use the escape pods before the crash, and then walk to the Cube. We also couldn’t be sure that we wouldn’t damage the Borg with our ship. We have waited a long time for this, Captain Cardonez. We would rather wait a while longer than fail when we are this close to what we want.”
“You realize, of course, that your attack on a Federation outpost gives me more than enough reason to arrest and imprison you?,” said Cardonez.
The woman smiled with an ugly humorless expression. “Yes, but I would hope that you might hear us out. And don’t forget that we would rather take our chances with crashing the ship on top of the Cube than go to prison.”
“Give me a moment.” Cardonez gestured towards Mason and the transmission was cut. “Opinions?”
“Her threat is empty,” said Kandro. “If they made a move towards the planet, we could grab them in a tractor beam. They would never make it.”
“They might still detonate their ship,” suggested Kehen,” and try to take us along with them.”
“No chance,” said Mason. “Our shields would hold.”
“They have no option but to surrender,” said Masafumi.
“No options but to kill themselves.”
Masafumi looked shocked. “You’re not seriously thinking about acceding to their demand, are you? What they’re proposing would be the equivalent of death. You cannot allow it.”
“At the moment, we’re in the superior position. That won’t change and if I can end this without bloodshed, I will. To that end, I see no problem with talking to them.”
“Captain, I strongly protest – “
“I’ll note that in my log, Commander. Lieutenant, put them back on.”
As the woman reappeared before her, her smile broadened. “I was beginning to wonder where you had gone.”
“I’m just conversing with my fellow officers. Now then if you wish to talk, I’m amenable to that. We can beam you over to the Testudo whenever you’re ready.”
“Excellent. Give us ten minutes. Three of us will then cross over.”
Cardonez nodded. “Very well but I must warn you. The chances of us being able to allow what you are proposing are practically nonexistent.”
“All we ask is that you hear us out.”
“One more thing. I would like to know the name of the person that I’m dealing with before we meet face-to-face.”
“Aurelia. My name is Aurelia,” the woman said before the screen switched to show the planet again.
“Captain,” Commander Masafumi said, softly,” I apologize for my outburst. However, my opinion stands. We cannot let them do this.”
Cardonez stared back at him. “I know that, Yashiro, but aren’t you the least bit curious as to why someone would want to become Borg? Anyways, it’s not my only opinion.” She stood up. “Lieutenant Mason, I want you to begin a full scan of that ship. Keep it passive but try and ascertain how easy it would be to assume command of its systems remotely.”
“Aye, sir.”
“You’re going to seize their vessel?,” the Commander asked.
Cardonez looked down. “If they won’t surrender voluntarily, then yes. Like I said, I want to end this without bloodshed.” She moved over to Kandro’s station. “Valian, see if you raise the Science team. I think we should have a representative from their team.” She tapped her combadge. “Cardonez to Medical. Doctor Hollem, I need you in the Conference Room in ten minutes.”
“Can it wait?,” came his response. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“No, it can’t, Doctor. Ten minutes and can you inform Lieutenant Dayle that I’ll require his services in the meeting as well?”
“Very well,” came the disgruntled reply.
“I raised the Science team. They’re fine and Commander T’Vel is beaming up.”
“Excellent,” said Cardonez. “Commander, Lieutenant Kandro, you’re both with me.” As the three of them moved toward the turbolift, she called out over her shoulder. “Lieutenant Kehen, you have the Bridge.”
“Me?,” she asked incredulously.
“Yes, you!,” Isabel said, playfully. As they reached the turbolift and its doors opened, Kehen was still sitting at her station.
“Lieutenant, it is customary to take the command chair when left in command,” said Masafumi.
What? I mean, yeah… I mean, yes, sir,” she said, stumbling up and over to the Captain’s chair that she nearly fell over into.
The three officers were grinning when they entered the lift. “Just try not to crash the ship,” Kandro said, good-naturedly as the doors closed.
“First time in the big chair?,” asked Mason.
“Not really,” Kehen said. “Never in the middle of a situation though.”
“Don’t worry. If they so much as blink and we can take them out in a second.”
“That’s what worries me,” Kehen said, quietly. She took a deep breath and squirmed in the chair, getting comfortable. After a moment or two, she scowled at the turbolift doors. “Try not to crash the ship… The nerve of that man.”
* * * *
Twelve minutes have passed by and everyone has arrived in the Conference Room. Captain Cardonez sat at the head of the table with Kandro on her left side and Masafumi on her right side. Hollem sat next to the Betazoid officer and next to the First Officer sat Commander T’Vel, the head of the Science team. She was a young Vulcan with delicate porcelain-like skin and its paleness was made all the more prominent by her shoulder-length raven-black hair. Next to her sat Lieutenant Dayle, the Ship’s Counselor. He was in his early thirties and a Lareyan. His skin was pale and his eyes were a burnt yellow in color. His felinoid-like pupils shined brightly against his skin. His pale red hair was short and barely perceptible against his scalp. Like all of the Lareyans that Cardonez has ever met, he was a good listener and a person capable of seeing things from different perspectives that was hardly surprising, given Lareyan physiology.
She didn’t particularly like counselors, preferring to deal with her own issues. This meant that she hadn’t spoken a lot with him since she had assumed command. Of course, she was avoiding him anyway if only because of the fluttering in her stomach, every time that she passed by him in a corridor. He wasn’t overly handsome but there was something undeniably cute about him. She cast a worried glance at Kandro knowing that he was probably the only person aboard the Testudo who knew that she found Dayle attractive. Luckily, he was working on the library computer and seemed to be oblivious.
There were several empty seats before the three members of the yacht’s crew. Aurelia sat on the left side of the table. Her companions sat on the right side and Cardonez didn’t know what she was expecting but it wasn’t this. Both of them were Human. One of them was a young girl that she guessed was barely out of her teen years. Her skin tone spoke of Arabian blood in her ancestry. It was a deep brown matched with long black hair and wide almond-colored eyes. The last member of the three people was an old man that the Captain put in his eighties of not older. He looked frail but his posture spoke of inner strength. His hair was ragged, gray, and his face bore dozens of wrinkles but his blue eyes shined with intelligence. Aurelia briefly introduced the girl as simply Amara and the old man as Edward Lambert.
“Well, we’re all here. I suppose the first word should go to you, Aurelia. I can’t speak for anyone else but I am curious to hear your rationale for wanting to join the Collective.”
Aurelia smiled. “Does it really matter? All that you need to know is that my comrades and I wish to become Borg. It’s a straight-forward request.”
“Pardon my impudence,” said Masafumi,” but I’m afraid that’s not good enough. There is no good reason why anyone would willingly become Borg. That is, anyone of sound mind.”
The Bajoran-Cardassian woman frowned. “Ah, the typical answer of those who are fearful of our desire. Why must there be a defect in our heads to make us want this? Why can’t people accept that it’s what we want? What we need to fulfill ourselves? It’s not like we’re hurting anyone.”
“I would disagree,” the Commander said. “I was aboard the USS Bonestell at Wolf 359 and in Earth orbit during the second Borg incursion of 2373. The Borg delight in hurting people.”
“Delight?,” Lambert said impassively. “I think you’ll find that delight is irrelevant to the Borg.”
“An unfortunate choice of words,” replied Masafumi without hesitation. “However, I can testify to the fact that delight or not, the Borg are very adept at hurting people.”
“Only because people resist what the Borg are offering,” said Aurelia.
Masafumi actually laughed, surprising his Commanding Officer. “What? Now it’s our fault?”
“I’m merely indicating that the Borg don’t hurt people unless they’re forced to.”
For a moment, Cardonez feared a tirade of anger from Masafumi. Luckily, Kandro had already detected his superior officer’s rising anger and interjected on his behalf. “Speaking purely from the personal experience of having assimilation tubules injected into my neck, I can testify that it’s damned painful.”
The girl named Amara leaned forward and her eyes met Kandro’s “Birth is a painful experience,” she said softly. “Why should our birth into the Collective be any different?” The Betazoid was too captivated by her eyes to reply.
“Captain Cardonez, we could sit here for hours while your officers insult us and try to convince us of the horrors of the Borg,” Aurelia said. “It won’t make any difference. We know what the Borg are and what joining their Collective would mean. Do you think that we came to this decision lightly? You invited us here to talk. So let’s talk. Do you know what Section One Hundred and Eighteen, Sub-Section Four-A of the Federation Charter is?”
“I must admit that I don’t, but if you give me a moment, I can look it – “
“It says,” Aurelia said, loudly, cutting Cardonez off in mid-sentence,” that any Federation citizen who, for whatever reason, feels that they have been born in the wrong gender has the right to gender reassignment treatment.”
Cardonez shook her head gently. “I’m afraid I don’t see the relevance.”
Aurelia continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “On Xarcus V, there are seven different varieties of sentient life. A complicated culture has developed where an individual can choose to move between races via genetic manipulation. On Bolarus, there is the custom of assisted suicide where an individual can ask for help in ending their life if they choose to do so.”
“Aurelia, at the moment, you’re just spouting off a series of unrelated laws and customs. I think that it would be in everyone’s best interests if you came to the point.”
“I’m about to, Captain. What I’m saying is that the Federation has no right to stop us from joining the Collective.”
“I don’t follow,” said Hollem.
Aurelia sighed. “Please excuse me. I’ve had to go through this little speech a hundred times. It grows tiresome.”
“Look on the bright side,” Masafumi said,” if you get assimilated, the longest speech that you’ll have to remember is ‘Resistance is futile’.”
“Commander!” Cardonez threw him a curt ‘Shut the hell up’ look.
“Sorry,” he said with little feeling.
Cardonez looked back at Aurelia. “Please continue.”
“Thank you. The examples that I have given you relate to our situation. First of all, gender reassignment has been practiced not only on Earth but also on several other worlds, correct?”
Dayle answered her, his voice was soothing and Cardonez felt another little flip in her stomach. “That is correct. There have always been individuals who have felt that they were born in the wrong body.”
“Exactly!,” Aurelia said, latching onto Dayle’s words. “Born in the wrong body. That takes us neatly onto Xarcus V. A Federation world where they use genetic manipulation to alter a person’s species.”
“The only such world within the Federation,” T’Vel said, suddenly. “Genetic manipulation is tolerated on that world because it has been practiced for over a thousand years. I believe you find that genetic tampering is forbidden through the reminder of the Federation.”
“If you allow it on one member world, sooner or later, another one will dictate the right to do likewise. Anyways, onto the Bolians. Again, members of the Federation and yet you allow them to help a person commit suicide. Something that very few other member worlds do.”
“I’m sure that you have a point,” Masafumi said, sarcastically.
“Indeed, we do. There are several ways of looking at this. One of them is that we are insane.”
Cardonez shot another look at Masafumi but he stayed quiet.
Aurelia continued. “If that is so, then why is our desire to join the Borg any different than any person who wants to change their gender or race?”
“Gender and racial dislocation are prevalent as both mental and physical disorders,” said Counselor Dayle. “However, it could be argued that only a person’s physical body is being altered, not their mind as well.”
“Good point.” Aurelia nodded. “I will change my perspective. We’re not mad. We’re suicidal. Why, then, is our desire to join the Borg any different than a Bolian who wishes to die?”
“You’re dancing around the realities of the situation, Aurelia. You’ve obviously had a long time to rationalize this but we’re not about to let you do this without an explanation.”
There was a momentary pause while both women stared at each other.
Finally, Aurelia gave in. “Very well. I’ll bare my soul to you. I’ve had to do much worse. Anything that I have to do to try and convince you that our desire is the only route open to us. Look at me. What do you see? Tell me about my heritage?”
“Well, you’ve obviously descended from both Cardassian and Bajoran parents.”
“And what does that tell you, Captain?”
Cardonez felt like she was walking into a trap but she kept going anyway. “That you were conceived during the Occupation. Given your heritage and your current goals, I would surmise that you consider yourself to be trapped between worlds, searching for somewhere to belong.”
“My mother was raped,” Aurelia said abruptly.
Cardonez closed her eyes for a moment. “The Occupation was a dark time. Many heinous actions were perpetrated by the Cardassians – “ That was as far as she got.
“Enough!,” Aurelia shouted, standing up while banging her hand on the tabletop. “I’m tired of it. It’s always the same assumption!” She pointed a finger at Doctor Hollem and asked,” Do you think that they were all innocent? My mother was a Cardassian soldier, and a patriot sent to fight on a far away world. Her platoon was ambushed by Bajoran Resistance fighters and wiped out. All of them except for my mother. The Bajoran scum had other plans for her.” She sat back down, allowing every member of the group’s imagination to fill in the blanks.
“I’m sorry,” the Captain said. It felt totally hollow but she couldn’t just say nothing.
“That’s all right. Everyone else in the Universe sees Cardassians as unredeemable and Bajorans as sweet innocent freedom fighters. Why should you be any different?” She paused, seemingly composing herself. “As you surmised, I don’t really belong anywhere. My mother died on Cardassia, shunned by her family. After that, I was sent to live on Bajor. They didn’t treat me any differently and I didn’t want them to. Even when I was young, whenever I saw a Bajoran, all I saw was a monster.”
Hollem shuffled uneasily in his seat upon hearing this.
“When I was old enough, I ran away on a freighter, thinking that if I searched long and hard enough, I could find people who wouldn’t judge me,” she continued. “I was wrong. You Federation types go on, long and hard, about loving everyone but it’s all lies. People look at me and see a Cardassian first and a half-breed second. They don’t particularly like either one.”
“Where as the Borg find race irrelevant?,” asked Dayle. “A drone is a drone. No matter its origin.”
“Exactly,” said Aurelia.
“Look, Heaven knows that I appreciate your situation better than anyone else in this room,” Cardonez said.
“How could you?”
“Because I –” She didn’t get any further when the Red Alert klaxon sounded.
Masafumi was the first person to tap his combadge. “Bridge, Masafumi here. What’s going on?”
The startled voice of Kehen soon replied. “The yacht has begun to descend towards the surface and our tractor beam is offline. I don’t think we can stop it!”
Captain Cardonez didn’t bat an eyelid. “It doesn’t matter to me what your reasons are. You are firing on a Federation outpost. If you don’t stop firing, I’ll have no alternative than to use force to stop you.”
For a moment, the Cardassian/Bajoran woman locked eyes with her. The Testudo’s Captain stared straight back at her, unflinching. Then the viewscreen went dark for a moment until an image of the yacht reappeared. A few tense seconds passed by and the other ship appeared to have stopped firing but it made no other moves.
“Status of that ship?,” barked Masafumi.
“They’ve stopped firing but their weapons and shields are still charged,” replied Mason.
“I guess they’re thinking about it,” said Kehen.
Cardonez turned away from the viewscreen. “Mister Mason, keep a lock on them. Be ready to fire phasers if they resume any signs of an aggressive act.”
He nodded. “Aye, Captain.”
Cardonez returned to her seat. “Valian, what’s the status of the science team?”
“I’m not sure. The outpost appears to be intact but I’m reading substantial wreckage on the landing pad. It looks like their ship was destroyed. I am reading eight lifesigns though.”
“That was the team’s complement,” said Masafumi.
“Yes, it looks like our friends out there aren’t killers. Lieutenant Mason, hail them. It’s taking too long.”
“Patience is a virtue, you know,” muttered Masafumi.
“Yeah, but I’m tired,” she said with a smile. “I don’t want this dragging on any longer than it has to.”
“I have a signal,” reported Mason.
“On screen.”
The image on the viewscreen changed again to show the woman who, Cardonez assumed, was in command of the other ship.
“Hello again,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder where you were.”
“We were talking amongst ourselves and deciding what to do.”
“And?”
“And we realize that we won’t attain our goal if we continue to attack the surface,” she replied.
“That’s correct,” said Masafumi. “Given the power of your weapon, I would estimate that it would have taken twenty more minutes worth of firing to weaken the shield to a point where you could beam through it. We would be able to disable your ship long before then.”
The woman on the viewscreen scowled at him. “We might not have a powerful ship like yourselves but I think that you’ll find that if we had crashed our ship into the shields, the resultant explosion would have been powerful enough to collapse it!”
Masafumi entered commands into the panel beside him. “Correct,” he said with a raised eyebrow.
“So why didn’t you?,” asked Cardonez.
“We decided that it had little hope of success. We would have to beam down to the surface or use the escape pods before the crash, and then walk to the Cube. We also couldn’t be sure that we wouldn’t damage the Borg with our ship. We have waited a long time for this, Captain Cardonez. We would rather wait a while longer than fail when we are this close to what we want.”
“You realize, of course, that your attack on a Federation outpost gives me more than enough reason to arrest and imprison you?,” said Cardonez.
The woman smiled with an ugly humorless expression. “Yes, but I would hope that you might hear us out. And don’t forget that we would rather take our chances with crashing the ship on top of the Cube than go to prison.”
“Give me a moment.” Cardonez gestured towards Mason and the transmission was cut. “Opinions?”
“Her threat is empty,” said Kandro. “If they made a move towards the planet, we could grab them in a tractor beam. They would never make it.”
“They might still detonate their ship,” suggested Kehen,” and try to take us along with them.”
“No chance,” said Mason. “Our shields would hold.”
“They have no option but to surrender,” said Masafumi.
“No options but to kill themselves.”
Masafumi looked shocked. “You’re not seriously thinking about acceding to their demand, are you? What they’re proposing would be the equivalent of death. You cannot allow it.”
“At the moment, we’re in the superior position. That won’t change and if I can end this without bloodshed, I will. To that end, I see no problem with talking to them.”
“Captain, I strongly protest – “
“I’ll note that in my log, Commander. Lieutenant, put them back on.”
As the woman reappeared before her, her smile broadened. “I was beginning to wonder where you had gone.”
“I’m just conversing with my fellow officers. Now then if you wish to talk, I’m amenable to that. We can beam you over to the Testudo whenever you’re ready.”
“Excellent. Give us ten minutes. Three of us will then cross over.”
Cardonez nodded. “Very well but I must warn you. The chances of us being able to allow what you are proposing are practically nonexistent.”
“All we ask is that you hear us out.”
“One more thing. I would like to know the name of the person that I’m dealing with before we meet face-to-face.”
“Aurelia. My name is Aurelia,” the woman said before the screen switched to show the planet again.
“Captain,” Commander Masafumi said, softly,” I apologize for my outburst. However, my opinion stands. We cannot let them do this.”
Cardonez stared back at him. “I know that, Yashiro, but aren’t you the least bit curious as to why someone would want to become Borg? Anyways, it’s not my only opinion.” She stood up. “Lieutenant Mason, I want you to begin a full scan of that ship. Keep it passive but try and ascertain how easy it would be to assume command of its systems remotely.”
“Aye, sir.”
“You’re going to seize their vessel?,” the Commander asked.
Cardonez looked down. “If they won’t surrender voluntarily, then yes. Like I said, I want to end this without bloodshed.” She moved over to Kandro’s station. “Valian, see if you raise the Science team. I think we should have a representative from their team.” She tapped her combadge. “Cardonez to Medical. Doctor Hollem, I need you in the Conference Room in ten minutes.”
“Can it wait?,” came his response. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“No, it can’t, Doctor. Ten minutes and can you inform Lieutenant Dayle that I’ll require his services in the meeting as well?”
“Very well,” came the disgruntled reply.
“I raised the Science team. They’re fine and Commander T’Vel is beaming up.”
“Excellent,” said Cardonez. “Commander, Lieutenant Kandro, you’re both with me.” As the three of them moved toward the turbolift, she called out over her shoulder. “Lieutenant Kehen, you have the Bridge.”
“Me?,” she asked incredulously.
“Yes, you!,” Isabel said, playfully. As they reached the turbolift and its doors opened, Kehen was still sitting at her station.
“Lieutenant, it is customary to take the command chair when left in command,” said Masafumi.
What? I mean, yeah… I mean, yes, sir,” she said, stumbling up and over to the Captain’s chair that she nearly fell over into.
The three officers were grinning when they entered the lift. “Just try not to crash the ship,” Kandro said, good-naturedly as the doors closed.
“First time in the big chair?,” asked Mason.
“Not really,” Kehen said. “Never in the middle of a situation though.”
“Don’t worry. If they so much as blink and we can take them out in a second.”
“That’s what worries me,” Kehen said, quietly. She took a deep breath and squirmed in the chair, getting comfortable. After a moment or two, she scowled at the turbolift doors. “Try not to crash the ship… The nerve of that man.”
* * * *
Twelve minutes have passed by and everyone has arrived in the Conference Room. Captain Cardonez sat at the head of the table with Kandro on her left side and Masafumi on her right side. Hollem sat next to the Betazoid officer and next to the First Officer sat Commander T’Vel, the head of the Science team. She was a young Vulcan with delicate porcelain-like skin and its paleness was made all the more prominent by her shoulder-length raven-black hair. Next to her sat Lieutenant Dayle, the Ship’s Counselor. He was in his early thirties and a Lareyan. His skin was pale and his eyes were a burnt yellow in color. His felinoid-like pupils shined brightly against his skin. His pale red hair was short and barely perceptible against his scalp. Like all of the Lareyans that Cardonez has ever met, he was a good listener and a person capable of seeing things from different perspectives that was hardly surprising, given Lareyan physiology.
She didn’t particularly like counselors, preferring to deal with her own issues. This meant that she hadn’t spoken a lot with him since she had assumed command. Of course, she was avoiding him anyway if only because of the fluttering in her stomach, every time that she passed by him in a corridor. He wasn’t overly handsome but there was something undeniably cute about him. She cast a worried glance at Kandro knowing that he was probably the only person aboard the Testudo who knew that she found Dayle attractive. Luckily, he was working on the library computer and seemed to be oblivious.
There were several empty seats before the three members of the yacht’s crew. Aurelia sat on the left side of the table. Her companions sat on the right side and Cardonez didn’t know what she was expecting but it wasn’t this. Both of them were Human. One of them was a young girl that she guessed was barely out of her teen years. Her skin tone spoke of Arabian blood in her ancestry. It was a deep brown matched with long black hair and wide almond-colored eyes. The last member of the three people was an old man that the Captain put in his eighties of not older. He looked frail but his posture spoke of inner strength. His hair was ragged, gray, and his face bore dozens of wrinkles but his blue eyes shined with intelligence. Aurelia briefly introduced the girl as simply Amara and the old man as Edward Lambert.
“Well, we’re all here. I suppose the first word should go to you, Aurelia. I can’t speak for anyone else but I am curious to hear your rationale for wanting to join the Collective.”
Aurelia smiled. “Does it really matter? All that you need to know is that my comrades and I wish to become Borg. It’s a straight-forward request.”
“Pardon my impudence,” said Masafumi,” but I’m afraid that’s not good enough. There is no good reason why anyone would willingly become Borg. That is, anyone of sound mind.”
The Bajoran-Cardassian woman frowned. “Ah, the typical answer of those who are fearful of our desire. Why must there be a defect in our heads to make us want this? Why can’t people accept that it’s what we want? What we need to fulfill ourselves? It’s not like we’re hurting anyone.”
“I would disagree,” the Commander said. “I was aboard the USS Bonestell at Wolf 359 and in Earth orbit during the second Borg incursion of 2373. The Borg delight in hurting people.”
“Delight?,” Lambert said impassively. “I think you’ll find that delight is irrelevant to the Borg.”
“An unfortunate choice of words,” replied Masafumi without hesitation. “However, I can testify to the fact that delight or not, the Borg are very adept at hurting people.”
“Only because people resist what the Borg are offering,” said Aurelia.
Masafumi actually laughed, surprising his Commanding Officer. “What? Now it’s our fault?”
“I’m merely indicating that the Borg don’t hurt people unless they’re forced to.”
For a moment, Cardonez feared a tirade of anger from Masafumi. Luckily, Kandro had already detected his superior officer’s rising anger and interjected on his behalf. “Speaking purely from the personal experience of having assimilation tubules injected into my neck, I can testify that it’s damned painful.”
The girl named Amara leaned forward and her eyes met Kandro’s “Birth is a painful experience,” she said softly. “Why should our birth into the Collective be any different?” The Betazoid was too captivated by her eyes to reply.
“Captain Cardonez, we could sit here for hours while your officers insult us and try to convince us of the horrors of the Borg,” Aurelia said. “It won’t make any difference. We know what the Borg are and what joining their Collective would mean. Do you think that we came to this decision lightly? You invited us here to talk. So let’s talk. Do you know what Section One Hundred and Eighteen, Sub-Section Four-A of the Federation Charter is?”
“I must admit that I don’t, but if you give me a moment, I can look it – “
“It says,” Aurelia said, loudly, cutting Cardonez off in mid-sentence,” that any Federation citizen who, for whatever reason, feels that they have been born in the wrong gender has the right to gender reassignment treatment.”
Cardonez shook her head gently. “I’m afraid I don’t see the relevance.”
Aurelia continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “On Xarcus V, there are seven different varieties of sentient life. A complicated culture has developed where an individual can choose to move between races via genetic manipulation. On Bolarus, there is the custom of assisted suicide where an individual can ask for help in ending their life if they choose to do so.”
“Aurelia, at the moment, you’re just spouting off a series of unrelated laws and customs. I think that it would be in everyone’s best interests if you came to the point.”
“I’m about to, Captain. What I’m saying is that the Federation has no right to stop us from joining the Collective.”
“I don’t follow,” said Hollem.
Aurelia sighed. “Please excuse me. I’ve had to go through this little speech a hundred times. It grows tiresome.”
“Look on the bright side,” Masafumi said,” if you get assimilated, the longest speech that you’ll have to remember is ‘Resistance is futile’.”
“Commander!” Cardonez threw him a curt ‘Shut the hell up’ look.
“Sorry,” he said with little feeling.
Cardonez looked back at Aurelia. “Please continue.”
“Thank you. The examples that I have given you relate to our situation. First of all, gender reassignment has been practiced not only on Earth but also on several other worlds, correct?”
Dayle answered her, his voice was soothing and Cardonez felt another little flip in her stomach. “That is correct. There have always been individuals who have felt that they were born in the wrong body.”
“Exactly!,” Aurelia said, latching onto Dayle’s words. “Born in the wrong body. That takes us neatly onto Xarcus V. A Federation world where they use genetic manipulation to alter a person’s species.”
“The only such world within the Federation,” T’Vel said, suddenly. “Genetic manipulation is tolerated on that world because it has been practiced for over a thousand years. I believe you find that genetic tampering is forbidden through the reminder of the Federation.”
“If you allow it on one member world, sooner or later, another one will dictate the right to do likewise. Anyways, onto the Bolians. Again, members of the Federation and yet you allow them to help a person commit suicide. Something that very few other member worlds do.”
“I’m sure that you have a point,” Masafumi said, sarcastically.
“Indeed, we do. There are several ways of looking at this. One of them is that we are insane.”
Cardonez shot another look at Masafumi but he stayed quiet.
Aurelia continued. “If that is so, then why is our desire to join the Borg any different than any person who wants to change their gender or race?”
“Gender and racial dislocation are prevalent as both mental and physical disorders,” said Counselor Dayle. “However, it could be argued that only a person’s physical body is being altered, not their mind as well.”
“Good point.” Aurelia nodded. “I will change my perspective. We’re not mad. We’re suicidal. Why, then, is our desire to join the Borg any different than a Bolian who wishes to die?”
“You’re dancing around the realities of the situation, Aurelia. You’ve obviously had a long time to rationalize this but we’re not about to let you do this without an explanation.”
There was a momentary pause while both women stared at each other.
Finally, Aurelia gave in. “Very well. I’ll bare my soul to you. I’ve had to do much worse. Anything that I have to do to try and convince you that our desire is the only route open to us. Look at me. What do you see? Tell me about my heritage?”
“Well, you’ve obviously descended from both Cardassian and Bajoran parents.”
“And what does that tell you, Captain?”
Cardonez felt like she was walking into a trap but she kept going anyway. “That you were conceived during the Occupation. Given your heritage and your current goals, I would surmise that you consider yourself to be trapped between worlds, searching for somewhere to belong.”
“My mother was raped,” Aurelia said abruptly.
Cardonez closed her eyes for a moment. “The Occupation was a dark time. Many heinous actions were perpetrated by the Cardassians – “ That was as far as she got.
“Enough!,” Aurelia shouted, standing up while banging her hand on the tabletop. “I’m tired of it. It’s always the same assumption!” She pointed a finger at Doctor Hollem and asked,” Do you think that they were all innocent? My mother was a Cardassian soldier, and a patriot sent to fight on a far away world. Her platoon was ambushed by Bajoran Resistance fighters and wiped out. All of them except for my mother. The Bajoran scum had other plans for her.” She sat back down, allowing every member of the group’s imagination to fill in the blanks.
“I’m sorry,” the Captain said. It felt totally hollow but she couldn’t just say nothing.
“That’s all right. Everyone else in the Universe sees Cardassians as unredeemable and Bajorans as sweet innocent freedom fighters. Why should you be any different?” She paused, seemingly composing herself. “As you surmised, I don’t really belong anywhere. My mother died on Cardassia, shunned by her family. After that, I was sent to live on Bajor. They didn’t treat me any differently and I didn’t want them to. Even when I was young, whenever I saw a Bajoran, all I saw was a monster.”
Hollem shuffled uneasily in his seat upon hearing this.
“When I was old enough, I ran away on a freighter, thinking that if I searched long and hard enough, I could find people who wouldn’t judge me,” she continued. “I was wrong. You Federation types go on, long and hard, about loving everyone but it’s all lies. People look at me and see a Cardassian first and a half-breed second. They don’t particularly like either one.”
“Where as the Borg find race irrelevant?,” asked Dayle. “A drone is a drone. No matter its origin.”
“Exactly,” said Aurelia.
“Look, Heaven knows that I appreciate your situation better than anyone else in this room,” Cardonez said.
“How could you?”
“Because I –” She didn’t get any further when the Red Alert klaxon sounded.
Masafumi was the first person to tap his combadge. “Bridge, Masafumi here. What’s going on?”
The startled voice of Kehen soon replied. “The yacht has begun to descend towards the surface and our tractor beam is offline. I don’t think we can stop it!”
Once again, a really interesting story premise. Very much liking unique origin story and the odd goal of wanting to subsume their consciousness into the borg. Also far from irrelevant to bring in modern hot topics such as gender reassignment and euthanasia. That is the best thing about sci-fi - get out far enough, the turn the reverse angle on our culture. Thanks!! rbs
Chapter Two
Zia Kehen knew that something was going to happen today when she woke up. She didn’t expect this, however. The Captain was on her way back to the Bridge but in the meantime, she was still in command.
“Can we shoot their engines?,” she asked. “Stop them that way?”
“Negative,” replied Mason. “They’re within the planet’s gravitational pull now. They’re going to fall on the Cube, with or without engines.”
“Have you got anywhere with gaining control of their systems?”
“Negative.”
Kehen whacked her brains while she watched the small craft drift towards the planet. She couldn’t fire at them and the tractor beam was still offline. Cardonez was seconds away and those seconds were vital. “Sundby?,” she said, addressing the tall blonde Ensign sitting at the helm. “Maneuver us below them.”
“Below them?,” he asked her.
“Do it!,” she barked and the New Orleans-class frigate began to move, powerfully outpacing the small vessel as she dove beneath it.
“We’re brushing the atmosphere,” Mason reported from Tactical. “Shields are holding.”
Kehen smiled. In spite of the fact that she was shaking, she appreciated the irony of the situation. A month or so before, she had been sitting at the helm, following the Captain’s orders to drop the ship closer to the planet.
“We’re under them,” Sundby reported.
“They aren’t stopping,” said Mason. “They’ll hit us in seven seconds.”
Kehen was acting on instinct now and pure adrenaline. “Reinforce shields. Ensign, take us straight up!”
“Up?,” quizzed Sundby.
“Just do it!”
The Testudo began to rise as the yacht continued to lower. There was only one possible conclusion. There was a flash when the two shields impacted and the ship shuddered slightly but the yacht stopped before rising upwards, balanced on Testudo’s shields.
“Their shields are going to fail in twenty seconds,” said Mason, just as Captain Cardonez and a large crowd bundled out of the turbolift.
Kehen ignored them. She was still in command until someone told her otherwise. “Sundby, thrusters ahead. Get us out from under them.”
This time, Sundby didn’t argue with her and the Testudo slid out from under the still-rising yacht.
“We made it,” Mason reported.
Kehen was enthused by the surprise in his voice. She let out the breath that she had been holding when she finally noticed her Captain who was standing by the horseshoe around the command area. She was smiling.
“If I knew that you had everything under control, I wouldn’t have hurried.” She turned towards Aurelia. “I thought that we had your word?”
“You did. I… I don’t know what happened.” She could have been lying but Cardonez detected truthfulness in her eyes.
“Sir, the yacht is hailing us. Their warp core is overheating and they can’t stop it,” said Mason.
“Tell them to drop their shields.” Isabel tapped her combadge. “Cardonez to Transporter Room. Beam the yacht’s remaining crew away.” She turned to Ensign Sundby. “Helm, put some distance between us once they’re aboard.”
“Transporter Room here. We’ve got them.” By then, Sundby had maneuvered the ship away. As they watched, the yacht was engulfed in a huge explosion.
“Transporter Room,” Cardonez asked,” did we get them?”
“Aye, sir. All three of them are safe and sound,” came the reply.
Cardonez was relieved. “Send them to Sickbay for examination.” She turned towards Aurelia. “It looks like you’ll be our guests. At least, for the moment.”
“And our request?,” she asked.
“We didn’t get a lot accomplished. We need to discuss it further. Until then, Lieutenant Mason can show you all to guest quarters.”
“Captain, I assume that we won’t be giving our ‘guests’ free run of the ship,” said Masafumi.
Aurelia turned and glared at the First Officer with a withering look that might have turned lesser men to stone. “We pose no threat.”
“Really? A short while ago, you were firing on a Federation outpost.”
“We only wanted to disable its shields.”
“You also destroyed our runabout,” pointed out T’Vel.
“Calm down, everyone,” Cardonez said, sharply. “I won’t be posting guards to watch over our guests at all times.” As she spoke, she saw Masafumi’s face begin to flush. “However, I will be asking Lieutenant Mason to insure that your people don’t inadvertently enter any restricted areas.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“No need. However, I must also give you fair warning. If one of your people steps out of line, I will lock every single one of you in the Brig. Understood?”
Aurelia nodded.
“Good. Mister Mason, please see these guests to guest quarters.”
As the Security Officcer moved to intercept the group, T’Vel spoke up. “One moment, Captain. I have a question that I would very much like answered before our guests leave the Bridge.”
“And that is?”
T’Vel walked up to Aurelia. “How exactly did you discover that the Cube was located here? It was a classified subject and only a select number of people knew about it.”
“I don’t remember,” the hybrid woman said with a slight smile. Cardonez cast a quick glance at Lieutenant Kandro who subtly shook his head. She was lying.
“Very well,” Cardonez said, deciding not to push the issue. Instead, she allowed Mason to usher the three people away. After they had left the Bridge, she herded the remaining members of the meeting into her Ready Room. Before walking inside, she paused for a moment on the Bridge. “Lieutenant Kehen, any problem with holding the fort for a little while longer?”
“No, sir,” came the Yulani’s reply. She tried to sound confident but it didn’t quite succeed.
Cardonez ignored her lack of confidence. “Excellent. Carry on. And by the way… nice job.” She threw the young woman and smile and ducked inside her Ready Room.
“So,” she addressed the ground,” any ideas about how they found out?”
“There are always similar minds in an organization as large as Starfleet,” Masafumi told her. “I remember on the fifth anniversary of Wolf 359, five starships visited the battlefield to lay wreaths and remember those that we lost. We discovered that there was a small ship already there, occupied by thirteen people just like Aurelia.”
“Really?,” asked Hollem.
“Yes. Four of them were even Starfleet officers. At first, we thought that they were mourners who had lost family at Wolf 359.”
“I take it that they weren’t,” said Counselor Dayle.
“No, they were… I can’t really find a polite way of putting it so I’ll just call them ‘acolytes’. They wanted to visit a place touched by the Borg. They envied the Borg’s perfection. Fools.” The Japanese officer shook his head sadly.
“Perhaps,” Dayle said, tactfully. “However, it isn’t uncommon for people to empathize with a particular race. If you searched through the database on most inhabited Federation worlds, you’ll find cliques whose greatest desire is to be Klingon warriors. I’ve even encountered some people who have aspired to be like Ferengi.”
Cardonez sat down behind her desk. “The meeting was short but I think we have the gist of it. Opinions?”
The rest of the group remained standing but it was Dayle who spoke first. “I cannot speak for the other five but it would appear that Aurelia is quite set in her desire to join with the Borg.”
Kandro nodded. “He’s right. I sensed no hesitation on her part. Her desire to become Borg is all-consuming.”
“Her conviction does not make it right,” said T’Vel, arching an eyebrow.
“No, but it does imply that if she is thwarted in her quest, she will take action,” said Dayle.
“So you’re saying that she’s a threat to the ship?,” Cardonez asked, noticing that Masafumi was bristling.
“No, I think she’s a danger to herself,” said the Lareyan. “She’s obviously been planning this for a long time. A person who is so obviously unhappy with herself might prefer to end her existence if she can’t improve it.”
“How the hell is becoming a Borg drone improving it?,” asked Commander Masafumi.
“She won’t be a freak anymore,” said Cardonez. “Probably for the first time in her life, she would just be another person.”
“Drone,” T’Vel corrected her.
“That’s not how she sees it,” said the counselor
“Okay, thank you all,” Cardonez said. “I’m going to contact Starfleet Command and see what their take on this is.”
“Surely, their take would be obvious?,” asked Masafumi. “We do not allow Federation citizens to be assimilated.”
“Don’t we? You heard what she said. Shesounded quite convincing to me. How do you think the Federation Council would react? Honestly?”
Masafumi pondered his answer for a moment. “I believe they might be led to believe that she has the right. That doesn’t make it the correct decision.”
“Maybe not, but it’s certainly a decision that has to be made above a Captain’s pay grade.”
Suddenly the door chimes rang and she beckoned whomever it was to enter. A moment later and Lieutenant Liz Tennyson had joined them. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Captain, but there’s something that I need to discuss with you.”
“I think we’re finished here for the moment. Commander T’Vel, we’ll keep in communication with you over any decision that we make.” One by one, each of her officers left. For a moment, the Captain thought that Masafumi was planning to remain but he eventually left as well.
“Liz, whatever it is, I hope that it isn’t too serious. I have a major situation to discuss with Starfleet.”
“Then I’m sorry in advance,” said the Chief Engineer. “The malfunction on the tractor beam? It was deliberate.”
“What?!”
“Someone tampered with the system. They placed it on a Level-Two diagnostic but inserted a command instruction, preventing the diagnostic from being ended prematurely.”
“Who?,” asked the Captain.
“The security codes indicate that it was Lieutenant Louise Ramblin from my Engineering department but…”
“... but whoever this was isn’t likely to have used their own codes,” finished Cardonez. “Is it likely that whoever did this might have also tapped into the yacht’s systems and caused it to malfunction?”
“Tennyson nodded. “I’ve already checked it. A tight carrier beam was directed at the yacht, five minutes before it began to malfunction. I believe it was timed.”
“Can you narrow it down, Liz? What station was used?”
“It’s impossible to say. Whoever did it, ran the command on a loop through fifteen different workstations from the Bridge, through Engineering and the Conference Lounge.”
“Conference Lounge?,” Cardonez asked suspiciously.
Tennyson nodded. “The signal could have been input from any of those locations.”
“Who has the knowledge to do this?”
“Any one of a dozen or so people. Mainly those in the Engineering or Science departments. We have some clever people aboard. It would be fairly easy to set up. Even the signal to the yacht. It looks like an invasive program. It wasn’t designed to be stealthy just to override the computer long enough to crash the ship.”
Cardonez was silent for a moment with a dozen thoughts running through her head. When she finally spoke, it was with a heavy heart. “I’m not always fully up to date on the ship’s gossip but isn’t Valian seeing Lieutenant Ramblin?”
Liz sighed. “You know Valian. To be honest, I get the impression that it’s run its course.” Suddenly the implication of Cardonez’s question hit home. “You suspect him?”
“Maybe. I’ve had five officers who were attacked by the Borg on Malthea II, and it was only six weeks ago. Maybe… someone hasn’t quite recovered.”
“You realize that using that same logic, your list of suspects would include your First Officer and your Chief of Security? If he were here…”
“Yes, I do. It also included Huntington’s deputy. Normally with him on leave, I would put Mason in charge but it could be him.”
“So what are you going to do? Investigate yourself?”
Cardonez smiled. “No. I think I can come up with a better option.”
Zia Kehen knew that something was going to happen today when she woke up. She didn’t expect this, however. The Captain was on her way back to the Bridge but in the meantime, she was still in command.
“Can we shoot their engines?,” she asked. “Stop them that way?”
“Negative,” replied Mason. “They’re within the planet’s gravitational pull now. They’re going to fall on the Cube, with or without engines.”
“Have you got anywhere with gaining control of their systems?”
“Negative.”
Kehen whacked her brains while she watched the small craft drift towards the planet. She couldn’t fire at them and the tractor beam was still offline. Cardonez was seconds away and those seconds were vital. “Sundby?,” she said, addressing the tall blonde Ensign sitting at the helm. “Maneuver us below them.”
“Below them?,” he asked her.
“Do it!,” she barked and the New Orleans-class frigate began to move, powerfully outpacing the small vessel as she dove beneath it.
“We’re brushing the atmosphere,” Mason reported from Tactical. “Shields are holding.”
Kehen smiled. In spite of the fact that she was shaking, she appreciated the irony of the situation. A month or so before, she had been sitting at the helm, following the Captain’s orders to drop the ship closer to the planet.
“We’re under them,” Sundby reported.
“They aren’t stopping,” said Mason. “They’ll hit us in seven seconds.”
Kehen was acting on instinct now and pure adrenaline. “Reinforce shields. Ensign, take us straight up!”
“Up?,” quizzed Sundby.
“Just do it!”
The Testudo began to rise as the yacht continued to lower. There was only one possible conclusion. There was a flash when the two shields impacted and the ship shuddered slightly but the yacht stopped before rising upwards, balanced on Testudo’s shields.
“Their shields are going to fail in twenty seconds,” said Mason, just as Captain Cardonez and a large crowd bundled out of the turbolift.
Kehen ignored them. She was still in command until someone told her otherwise. “Sundby, thrusters ahead. Get us out from under them.”
This time, Sundby didn’t argue with her and the Testudo slid out from under the still-rising yacht.
“We made it,” Mason reported.
Kehen was enthused by the surprise in his voice. She let out the breath that she had been holding when she finally noticed her Captain who was standing by the horseshoe around the command area. She was smiling.
“If I knew that you had everything under control, I wouldn’t have hurried.” She turned towards Aurelia. “I thought that we had your word?”
“You did. I… I don’t know what happened.” She could have been lying but Cardonez detected truthfulness in her eyes.
“Sir, the yacht is hailing us. Their warp core is overheating and they can’t stop it,” said Mason.
“Tell them to drop their shields.” Isabel tapped her combadge. “Cardonez to Transporter Room. Beam the yacht’s remaining crew away.” She turned to Ensign Sundby. “Helm, put some distance between us once they’re aboard.”
“Transporter Room here. We’ve got them.” By then, Sundby had maneuvered the ship away. As they watched, the yacht was engulfed in a huge explosion.
“Transporter Room,” Cardonez asked,” did we get them?”
“Aye, sir. All three of them are safe and sound,” came the reply.
Cardonez was relieved. “Send them to Sickbay for examination.” She turned towards Aurelia. “It looks like you’ll be our guests. At least, for the moment.”
“And our request?,” she asked.
“We didn’t get a lot accomplished. We need to discuss it further. Until then, Lieutenant Mason can show you all to guest quarters.”
“Captain, I assume that we won’t be giving our ‘guests’ free run of the ship,” said Masafumi.
Aurelia turned and glared at the First Officer with a withering look that might have turned lesser men to stone. “We pose no threat.”
“Really? A short while ago, you were firing on a Federation outpost.”
“We only wanted to disable its shields.”
“You also destroyed our runabout,” pointed out T’Vel.
“Calm down, everyone,” Cardonez said, sharply. “I won’t be posting guards to watch over our guests at all times.” As she spoke, she saw Masafumi’s face begin to flush. “However, I will be asking Lieutenant Mason to insure that your people don’t inadvertently enter any restricted areas.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“No need. However, I must also give you fair warning. If one of your people steps out of line, I will lock every single one of you in the Brig. Understood?”
Aurelia nodded.
“Good. Mister Mason, please see these guests to guest quarters.”
As the Security Officcer moved to intercept the group, T’Vel spoke up. “One moment, Captain. I have a question that I would very much like answered before our guests leave the Bridge.”
“And that is?”
T’Vel walked up to Aurelia. “How exactly did you discover that the Cube was located here? It was a classified subject and only a select number of people knew about it.”
“I don’t remember,” the hybrid woman said with a slight smile. Cardonez cast a quick glance at Lieutenant Kandro who subtly shook his head. She was lying.
“Very well,” Cardonez said, deciding not to push the issue. Instead, she allowed Mason to usher the three people away. After they had left the Bridge, she herded the remaining members of the meeting into her Ready Room. Before walking inside, she paused for a moment on the Bridge. “Lieutenant Kehen, any problem with holding the fort for a little while longer?”
“No, sir,” came the Yulani’s reply. She tried to sound confident but it didn’t quite succeed.
Cardonez ignored her lack of confidence. “Excellent. Carry on. And by the way… nice job.” She threw the young woman and smile and ducked inside her Ready Room.
“So,” she addressed the ground,” any ideas about how they found out?”
“There are always similar minds in an organization as large as Starfleet,” Masafumi told her. “I remember on the fifth anniversary of Wolf 359, five starships visited the battlefield to lay wreaths and remember those that we lost. We discovered that there was a small ship already there, occupied by thirteen people just like Aurelia.”
“Really?,” asked Hollem.
“Yes. Four of them were even Starfleet officers. At first, we thought that they were mourners who had lost family at Wolf 359.”
“I take it that they weren’t,” said Counselor Dayle.
“No, they were… I can’t really find a polite way of putting it so I’ll just call them ‘acolytes’. They wanted to visit a place touched by the Borg. They envied the Borg’s perfection. Fools.” The Japanese officer shook his head sadly.
“Perhaps,” Dayle said, tactfully. “However, it isn’t uncommon for people to empathize with a particular race. If you searched through the database on most inhabited Federation worlds, you’ll find cliques whose greatest desire is to be Klingon warriors. I’ve even encountered some people who have aspired to be like Ferengi.”
Cardonez sat down behind her desk. “The meeting was short but I think we have the gist of it. Opinions?”
The rest of the group remained standing but it was Dayle who spoke first. “I cannot speak for the other five but it would appear that Aurelia is quite set in her desire to join with the Borg.”
Kandro nodded. “He’s right. I sensed no hesitation on her part. Her desire to become Borg is all-consuming.”
“Her conviction does not make it right,” said T’Vel, arching an eyebrow.
“No, but it does imply that if she is thwarted in her quest, she will take action,” said Dayle.
“So you’re saying that she’s a threat to the ship?,” Cardonez asked, noticing that Masafumi was bristling.
“No, I think she’s a danger to herself,” said the Lareyan. “She’s obviously been planning this for a long time. A person who is so obviously unhappy with herself might prefer to end her existence if she can’t improve it.”
“How the hell is becoming a Borg drone improving it?,” asked Commander Masafumi.
“She won’t be a freak anymore,” said Cardonez. “Probably for the first time in her life, she would just be another person.”
“Drone,” T’Vel corrected her.
“That’s not how she sees it,” said the counselor
“Okay, thank you all,” Cardonez said. “I’m going to contact Starfleet Command and see what their take on this is.”
“Surely, their take would be obvious?,” asked Masafumi. “We do not allow Federation citizens to be assimilated.”
“Don’t we? You heard what she said. Shesounded quite convincing to me. How do you think the Federation Council would react? Honestly?”
Masafumi pondered his answer for a moment. “I believe they might be led to believe that she has the right. That doesn’t make it the correct decision.”
“Maybe not, but it’s certainly a decision that has to be made above a Captain’s pay grade.”
Suddenly the door chimes rang and she beckoned whomever it was to enter. A moment later and Lieutenant Liz Tennyson had joined them. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Captain, but there’s something that I need to discuss with you.”
“I think we’re finished here for the moment. Commander T’Vel, we’ll keep in communication with you over any decision that we make.” One by one, each of her officers left. For a moment, the Captain thought that Masafumi was planning to remain but he eventually left as well.
“Liz, whatever it is, I hope that it isn’t too serious. I have a major situation to discuss with Starfleet.”
“Then I’m sorry in advance,” said the Chief Engineer. “The malfunction on the tractor beam? It was deliberate.”
“What?!”
“Someone tampered with the system. They placed it on a Level-Two diagnostic but inserted a command instruction, preventing the diagnostic from being ended prematurely.”
“Who?,” asked the Captain.
“The security codes indicate that it was Lieutenant Louise Ramblin from my Engineering department but…”
“... but whoever this was isn’t likely to have used their own codes,” finished Cardonez. “Is it likely that whoever did this might have also tapped into the yacht’s systems and caused it to malfunction?”
“Tennyson nodded. “I’ve already checked it. A tight carrier beam was directed at the yacht, five minutes before it began to malfunction. I believe it was timed.”
“Can you narrow it down, Liz? What station was used?”
“It’s impossible to say. Whoever did it, ran the command on a loop through fifteen different workstations from the Bridge, through Engineering and the Conference Lounge.”
“Conference Lounge?,” Cardonez asked suspiciously.
Tennyson nodded. “The signal could have been input from any of those locations.”
“Who has the knowledge to do this?”
“Any one of a dozen or so people. Mainly those in the Engineering or Science departments. We have some clever people aboard. It would be fairly easy to set up. Even the signal to the yacht. It looks like an invasive program. It wasn’t designed to be stealthy just to override the computer long enough to crash the ship.”
Cardonez was silent for a moment with a dozen thoughts running through her head. When she finally spoke, it was with a heavy heart. “I’m not always fully up to date on the ship’s gossip but isn’t Valian seeing Lieutenant Ramblin?”
Liz sighed. “You know Valian. To be honest, I get the impression that it’s run its course.” Suddenly the implication of Cardonez’s question hit home. “You suspect him?”
“Maybe. I’ve had five officers who were attacked by the Borg on Malthea II, and it was only six weeks ago. Maybe… someone hasn’t quite recovered.”
“You realize that using that same logic, your list of suspects would include your First Officer and your Chief of Security? If he were here…”
“Yes, I do. It also included Huntington’s deputy. Normally with him on leave, I would put Mason in charge but it could be him.”
“So what are you going to do? Investigate yourself?”
Cardonez smiled. “No. I think I can come up with a better option.”
Tasty little mystery going here... And a not-inconsequential ethical question.
Thanks!! rbs
Thanks!! rbs
Chapter Three
“Me?,” Doctor Hollem Azahn asked, incredulously.
“Yes, you,” Captain Cardonez said.
They were sitting in Hollem’s office in Sickbay and now he leaned forward in his seat, cupping his hands together on the desktop. “But why me? I’m no investigator.”
“That’s not completely true. Your background indicates strong research and analytical skills. You also have some background in pathology. You’re bright and quick-thinking. At the end of the day, I need one of my senior officers on this matter and I’ve chosen you.”
“Well, my initial suspects would be Mason and Grady.”
“Why?,” asked Cardonez with a smile. “Because they aren’t members of the command staff?”
“No, but they were the ones who were assimilated for the longest time. Mason was in a lot of pain and Grady was actually a drone for a considerable time. Do we have any officers on board who were at Wolf 359 or on Earth when the Borg attacked?”
“Only one. He was at both.”
“Masafumi,” said Hollem. “He did seem to be quite angry in the meeting. What about Ramblin? Did she have any friends or relations that have a history with the Borg?”
Cardonez stood from her chair. Hollem’s mind was already firing off questions in a dozen directions at once. He might be absent-minded but he’s the right choice, she mused. “That’s for you to find out. Keep the investigation low-key and let me know if you find anything.”
With that said and done, she left.
Hollem didn’t actually notice that she was gone. He was gazing off into the distance. “So Kandro was seeing Grady and now he’s seeing Ramblin,” he asked the empty chair. It took several more seconds before he realized that he hadn’t been given a reply and he looked across the desk to see that he was alone. A confused look came across his face before he settled down, spinning his computer monitor towards him, and began to access it.
* * * *
Valian Kandro discovered that every member of Aurelia’s crew was currently grouped together in the cabin assigned to her. She seemed to be quite surprised when she opened the door to him.
“Hi. I’m Lieutenant Kandro. We met earlier in the Conference Lounge.” He smiled winningly.
“Yes, Lieutenant. I remember. How can I help you?”
Kandro looked over her shoulder. The rest of the group were sitting cross-legged in a circle on the floor. He noticed Lambert and the three crew members who had been rescued from the doomed yacht. All of them were male, a Human, a Trill, and what he thought was a Zakdorn. It was on the girl Amara that he focused his gaze on. She smiled when she saw him.
“I was just wondering if anyone wanted a quick tour of the ship?,” he asked, shakily, reverting his gaze back to Aurelia.
“No, thank you,” she began. “We have no interest– “
“I’ll go!,” shouted Amara.
Aurelia looked back at her. “Very well, but if he tries to dissuade you from your destiny…” She let that sentence hang in the air.
“Look, I just want to be friendly,” Kandro said, secretly glad that only Amara was coming. He had been right in the Conference Lounge. Her attraction for him was obvious… At least, to a Betazoid…
As Aurelia reluctantly eased aside to let Amara out, Kandro pondered that he had, perhaps, misjudged the older woman. His natural assumption had been that her group was akin to a cult with her as its leader but while now that he sensed that Aurelia didn’t want Amara going off with him, he also sensed a desire to allow the young woman to make her own decisions. The guilt didn’t remain in his mind for long. Soon he was alone in the corridor with Amara and all thoughts, other than those about her beauty, escaped him.
“So where are we going?,” she asked him with a smile, slipping her arm through his and caused a definite spark to fizz between them.
“The Backyard,” he said and when she looked bemused, he smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll understand.”
* * * *
Hollem Azahn found Lieutenant J.G. Louise Ramblin exactly where the computer had indicated that she would be. Running a diagnostic in the port nacelle control room, she was a young officer in her late twenties. Like her superior, Lieutenant Tennyson, she was taller than it was average for a Human woman and her hair was shoulder-length blonde. The Bajoran knew instinctively that he had found her at a bad time. Maybe it was her body language or the fact that the computer console in front of her was beeping steadily in an unnatural way. He decided that it was probably the fact that she was hitting the console repeatedly with some kind of tool that looked unremarkably like a small spanner.
“Stupid… piece… of… jury-rigged… sh…”
“Ahem!,” he said.
Ramblin turned around to face him. Her face was flushed with anger and for a moment, Hollem half-expected her to use the spanner on him.
“Doctor? I didn’t know that you made house calls,” she said. Realizing that she was still holding the spanner, she gently placed it on the floor.
He evaded her question. “Does that help?”
“Oh, absolutely. I once got a malfunction impulse reactor to work by firing a phaser at it,” she said, deadpan.
“You’re joking?”
“Maybe,” she replied before she suddenly and quite viciously back-heeled the console. The beeping stopped and a healthy-sounding him began to sound. “That’s better.” She picked up her spanner and loaded it into a case filled with similar tools that lay open nearby.
“Do machines always make you that angry?,” he asked her.
“Only when they don’t do what I tell them.”
“Hmm… If I get that angry, it’s usually because… because…” Hollem paused when he noticed a crack in the wall. Realizing that it was just a crack in the paintwork, rather than in the hull, he shook his head. “What was I saying?”
“Something about being angry?”
“Oh, yes. So anything else making you angry at the moment?,” he asked her, oblivious to the fact that he hadn’t completed his earlier sentence.
Ramblin closed her case and eyed the Doctor. “Has Linda put you up to this?”
“Up to what?,” the Doctor asked, genuinely.
“Look, so Valian Kandro treated me like dirt. He wasn’t the first and God knows that he probably won’t be the last. It’s nothing that I can’t handle and there’s certainly nothing that I need a physician’s help with.”
“Linda didn’t say anything to me?,” he said, befuddled. “You do mean Ensign Linda Grady, right?” She nodded. “I didn’t know that you were friends.”
“We aren’t,” she said. When Hollem looked befuddled again, she clarified her statement. “Ex-boyfriends make strange bedfellows.”
“Ah, I see. No, uh, Ensign Grady hasn’t said anything to me. Lieutenant Kandro appears to be fast developing a certain reputation on board. I take it that he isn’t Linda… I mean, Ensign Grady’s favorite person?”
“Well, she’s conflicted. He used her but he also risked his life to pull her out of that Borg hellhole. He can be very charming when he wants to be but–”
“But?”
“Nothing,” she replied.
“It must be something or you wouldn’t have said it?”
“Well…,” she started to say, elongating the word as if to prolong the wait until she said her next sentence. “He comes off as very charming but the longer that you spend with him, the more that it seems like there’s a lot going on in that head of his that you know nothing about. You know what I mean?”
“Sort of,” Hollem said. “I think his condition has an influence on him sometimes.”
“Really? I think his condition is an excuse to let the real Valian out, sometimes,” she said, darkly. Then she smiled. “Then again, I’m biased. Look, Doc, I really have places to go and stuff. What exactly did you want with me anyways?”
“Me? Nothing. I was just…” Hollem looked around the small room, perched high in the warp nacelle. “Passing by.” He concluded the encounter with a satisfied nod before turning around and leaving behind a very bemused Ramblin.
* * * *
Valian Kandro decided that he loved Amara’s laugh. They were sitting in the Backyard bar, nursing drinks. She seemed to find, even the most mundane things about his life, to be interesting.
“My God, it must have been pretty hard, growing up in a Betazoid family. I must have lied to my parents, a hundred times, about things when I was a kid.”
“Tell me about it. On Betazed, you learn very early on to hide certain feelings unless someone picks them up. It’s not very different from keeping a straight face when you really want to laugh.”
“I envy you. You’re so connected to other people.”
Kandro smiled. “We seem to have talked a lot about me. What about you? Why are you here?”
“What? Why is a vivacious, beautiful, intelligent twenty-one year old woman wanting to become assimilated?”
“Something like that. And you’re just vivacious, beautiful and intelligent? Nothing else?”
“Well, I’m also modest.” Valian picked up his drink. “Did I also mention the fact that I’m incredible in bed as well?,” she added sweetly, causing him to swallow down hard to prevent spitting synthehol everywhere.
“No. You never mentioned that.”
She stood up. “I’m bored here. What’s next on the tour?”
Kandro stood up as well. “How about my quarters?,” he asked her, already knowing the answer.
* * * *
“You’re not that much help, Admiral,” said Cardonez.
“I’m sorry, Captain. Given the situation that you’ve described, I think that it’s better if you make a judgment call here as the senior officer,” said the image of Admiral James Gavin from the screen of her Ready Room computer. “By the time that the Federation Council gets around to looking into this matter, it might be weeks or months from now.”
Isabel sat with her arms folded in front of her, a scowl on her face. “This decision is beyond my ability to make it.”
“If that’s true, you have no right to sit in the Captain’s chair,” he said. “You’re a Starfleet Captain. By its very nature, that job puts you in all kinds of situations that could be considered beyond your ability. That’s why they say that a Starship Captain has a learning curve that’s steeper than Mount Everest.”
In spite of herself, she returned his smile. “It’s a big decision to make.”
“It’s no bigger than the sort of life and death decisions that you’ve been making in combat for years. I can appreciate both sides of the argument and I will back up whatever decision that you make, one hundred percent.”
“Why do I expect a ‘but’?”
Gavin was still smiling. “I don’t want you to be making this decision alone. Utilize your First Officer and your senior staff. This isn’t a combat situation and your decision doesn’t have to be a snap judgment. You know where I am if you need me. Gavin out.”
As the screen darkened with the Admiral’s disappearance, she leaned back in her chair. After a moment, she hit her combadge. “Cardonez to Masafumi.”
“Masafumi here.”
“Can I see you in my Ready Room, Commander?”
“Very well. It will be a few minutes since I am currently on the surface, visiting the science team.”
Cardonez signed. He hadn’t mentioned that to her. “Very well, Commander. Cardonez out.”
* * * *
“She did not sound pleased,” said T’Vel.
“No, she didn’t,” said Yashiro Masafumi. They were standing in the middle of a modular science lab on the surface, some three kilometers from the half-buried Cube. On the screen in front of them were ghosty images of Borg drones moving eerily through the corridors of the Borg ship.
“Have you displeased her?”
“A lot of what I do displeases her. However, in this instance, I suspect that she isn’t happy because I didn’t clear my visit with her.”
T’Vel considered this for a moment. “It seems that the two of you do not form a particularly stable command team. I would say that it is illogical to remain in such a position if it is detrimental to your ability to function. My original offer of a position on my team still stands.”
Masafumi laughed. “Thank you, Commander, but I’m happy where I am for the moment.”
T’Vel raised an eyebrow quizzically. “I do not understand?”
“I would not expect you to. My reasons for staying aboard the Testudo would not seem logical. Anyways, I probably have a few minutes of grace and I don’t want to waste them. How many are there?,” he asked, pointing at the monitor screen.
“We have identified and tagged two hundred and three drones.”
“What about the failed assimilations?”
“They are no longer functioning,” T’Vel said coldly.
“You mean, they’re dead?”
“Yes. Mainly they were crew from the USS Aora. I believe that the last one expired twenty-three hours after we set up our base.”
“You didn’t try to help them?,” he asked incredulously.
“There was nothing that we could do. As your own Chief Medical Officer had ascertained, they were beyond our help. Besides, it would have further contaminated the environment.”
Masafumi fought back the desire to argue with her. Reminding himself that she wasn’t going out of her way to upset him, she was simply presenting him logically with the facts. As a scientist, this would normally assuage him. However, right now, it didn’t. Maybe it was because it involved the Borg.
“I should be going,” he said simply before he tapped his combadge. “Masafumi to Testudo. One to beam up.”
* * * *
When her door chimes rang, Captain Cardonez automatically assumed that it was Commander Masafumi and she was surprised when Lieutenant Dayle entered the room.
“Counselor, how can I help you?,” she asked him.
For a man who exuded calm, he seemed to be quite put out. “I want to make a formal complaint against Doctor Hollem.”
Uh-oh, she thought. “What’s he done now?”
“He has demanded that I reveal confidential information about my patients.”
“Ah, I take it that those patients are the five officers who had a close encounter with the Borg?”
“Why, yes,” Dayle said, somewhat surprised.
“I asked him to investigate the possibility that one of those officers might have sabotaged Aurelia’s ship.”
“And you suggested that he pump me for information?”
“Something like that, yes. I thought that it might be easier than coming to you myself. Especially with him being another health care professional.”
“It’s hardly the same thing.”
“Lieutenant, the safety of this ship might be at stake and while I appreciate your devotion to your principles, I have to override them. Did you tell him what he needed to know?”
Dayle was quiet for a moment, staring at Cardonez with what she could only describe as disappointment. For some reason, that saddened her. “Yes. This time, I did,” he finally said. “I’m willing to compromise my integrity this time. I cannot promise to do the same again. I also didn’t give him specific information. Just generalizations about the individuals in question and their reaction to the incident with the Borg.”
“And?,” she probed.
“Mason took it hard. He was in a lot of pain and the trauma that it caused him isn’t going to go away any time soon. He has, however, made a conscious effort to help himself. Ensign Grady was initially very upset but she has readjusted quite quickly. If anything, she seems more hung up on talking about Lieutenant Kandro than anything else. Lieutenant Kandro worries me, most of all precisely, because he shows no signs of any trauma at all. It’s as if anything, the entire affair fascinates him on some level. I refused to say anything about Lieutenant Commander Huntington simply because he isn’t here and that has no bearing on the case.”
“And Commander Masafumi?,” she asked as her door chimes rang again. “Come.” She knew that it would probably be her First Officer this time. It was.
“I’m sorry, Captain. Should I come back if this is a bad time?”
“No. Come in, Commander.” Dayle looked curiously at Cardonez. “Go on, Lieutenant. It’s time that I brought my First Officer in on this.”
Masafumi looked perplexed but the counselor continued, nervously. “Commander Masafumi feels very angry towards the Borg. However, he has externalized that anger rather than letting it fester away.”
“And as to whether any of these officers are capable of sabotage?”
“I do not believe that any of them are capable of such an act.”
“Very well. Dismissed.” As Dayle left the Ready Room, Masafumi stayed motionless, staring at his Commanding Officer
As the door slid shut, he finally spoke up. “You were investigating me?”
“Actually, Hollem was, but at my instruction. Sit down,” she said, gesturing towards a chair. “What I should have done was trust my First Officer. I know, damned well, that it wasn’t you. I’m just second-guessing myself since I got this promotion.”
He was surprised that she was revealing that fact to him. However, he was also secretly proud that she trusted him. “And what are you going to do about that?,” he asked her.
She smiled. “I’m going to stop right now. Ever since this situation started, I’ve been accommodating because that’s what I thought that a captain should me. Well, no more. I know what my gut told me about this situation from the first moment that Aurelia revealed her intentions and my feelings haven’t changed. I spoke to Admiral Gavin earlier and he told me that if I couldn’t handle the big decisions, then I have no right being in the Captain’s chair.” When Masafumi tilted his head in a silent question, she continued with a smile,” I like that seat. It’s comfy. I have no desire to give it up.”
“And Aurelia? You heard Dayle’s comments earlier…”
“Playing the Devil’s Advocate doesn’t suit you, but I like it anyway. Yes, I know what Dayle said. That’s why I wanted to talk to you first before I do what I’m planning to do..”
“Are you hoping that I’ll agree with you?”
“Actually, I’m kind of hoping that you’ll talk me out of it,” Cardonez said before she began to illustrate her idea.
“Me?,” Doctor Hollem Azahn asked, incredulously.
“Yes, you,” Captain Cardonez said.
They were sitting in Hollem’s office in Sickbay and now he leaned forward in his seat, cupping his hands together on the desktop. “But why me? I’m no investigator.”
“That’s not completely true. Your background indicates strong research and analytical skills. You also have some background in pathology. You’re bright and quick-thinking. At the end of the day, I need one of my senior officers on this matter and I’ve chosen you.”
“Well, my initial suspects would be Mason and Grady.”
“Why?,” asked Cardonez with a smile. “Because they aren’t members of the command staff?”
“No, but they were the ones who were assimilated for the longest time. Mason was in a lot of pain and Grady was actually a drone for a considerable time. Do we have any officers on board who were at Wolf 359 or on Earth when the Borg attacked?”
“Only one. He was at both.”
“Masafumi,” said Hollem. “He did seem to be quite angry in the meeting. What about Ramblin? Did she have any friends or relations that have a history with the Borg?”
Cardonez stood from her chair. Hollem’s mind was already firing off questions in a dozen directions at once. He might be absent-minded but he’s the right choice, she mused. “That’s for you to find out. Keep the investigation low-key and let me know if you find anything.”
With that said and done, she left.
Hollem didn’t actually notice that she was gone. He was gazing off into the distance. “So Kandro was seeing Grady and now he’s seeing Ramblin,” he asked the empty chair. It took several more seconds before he realized that he hadn’t been given a reply and he looked across the desk to see that he was alone. A confused look came across his face before he settled down, spinning his computer monitor towards him, and began to access it.
* * * *
Valian Kandro discovered that every member of Aurelia’s crew was currently grouped together in the cabin assigned to her. She seemed to be quite surprised when she opened the door to him.
“Hi. I’m Lieutenant Kandro. We met earlier in the Conference Lounge.” He smiled winningly.
“Yes, Lieutenant. I remember. How can I help you?”
Kandro looked over her shoulder. The rest of the group were sitting cross-legged in a circle on the floor. He noticed Lambert and the three crew members who had been rescued from the doomed yacht. All of them were male, a Human, a Trill, and what he thought was a Zakdorn. It was on the girl Amara that he focused his gaze on. She smiled when she saw him.
“I was just wondering if anyone wanted a quick tour of the ship?,” he asked, shakily, reverting his gaze back to Aurelia.
“No, thank you,” she began. “We have no interest– “
“I’ll go!,” shouted Amara.
Aurelia looked back at her. “Very well, but if he tries to dissuade you from your destiny…” She let that sentence hang in the air.
“Look, I just want to be friendly,” Kandro said, secretly glad that only Amara was coming. He had been right in the Conference Lounge. Her attraction for him was obvious… At least, to a Betazoid…
As Aurelia reluctantly eased aside to let Amara out, Kandro pondered that he had, perhaps, misjudged the older woman. His natural assumption had been that her group was akin to a cult with her as its leader but while now that he sensed that Aurelia didn’t want Amara going off with him, he also sensed a desire to allow the young woman to make her own decisions. The guilt didn’t remain in his mind for long. Soon he was alone in the corridor with Amara and all thoughts, other than those about her beauty, escaped him.
“So where are we going?,” she asked him with a smile, slipping her arm through his and caused a definite spark to fizz between them.
“The Backyard,” he said and when she looked bemused, he smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll understand.”
* * * *
Hollem Azahn found Lieutenant J.G. Louise Ramblin exactly where the computer had indicated that she would be. Running a diagnostic in the port nacelle control room, she was a young officer in her late twenties. Like her superior, Lieutenant Tennyson, she was taller than it was average for a Human woman and her hair was shoulder-length blonde. The Bajoran knew instinctively that he had found her at a bad time. Maybe it was her body language or the fact that the computer console in front of her was beeping steadily in an unnatural way. He decided that it was probably the fact that she was hitting the console repeatedly with some kind of tool that looked unremarkably like a small spanner.
“Stupid… piece… of… jury-rigged… sh…”
“Ahem!,” he said.
Ramblin turned around to face him. Her face was flushed with anger and for a moment, Hollem half-expected her to use the spanner on him.
“Doctor? I didn’t know that you made house calls,” she said. Realizing that she was still holding the spanner, she gently placed it on the floor.
He evaded her question. “Does that help?”
“Oh, absolutely. I once got a malfunction impulse reactor to work by firing a phaser at it,” she said, deadpan.
“You’re joking?”
“Maybe,” she replied before she suddenly and quite viciously back-heeled the console. The beeping stopped and a healthy-sounding him began to sound. “That’s better.” She picked up her spanner and loaded it into a case filled with similar tools that lay open nearby.
“Do machines always make you that angry?,” he asked her.
“Only when they don’t do what I tell them.”
“Hmm… If I get that angry, it’s usually because… because…” Hollem paused when he noticed a crack in the wall. Realizing that it was just a crack in the paintwork, rather than in the hull, he shook his head. “What was I saying?”
“Something about being angry?”
“Oh, yes. So anything else making you angry at the moment?,” he asked her, oblivious to the fact that he hadn’t completed his earlier sentence.
Ramblin closed her case and eyed the Doctor. “Has Linda put you up to this?”
“Up to what?,” the Doctor asked, genuinely.
“Look, so Valian Kandro treated me like dirt. He wasn’t the first and God knows that he probably won’t be the last. It’s nothing that I can’t handle and there’s certainly nothing that I need a physician’s help with.”
“Linda didn’t say anything to me?,” he said, befuddled. “You do mean Ensign Linda Grady, right?” She nodded. “I didn’t know that you were friends.”
“We aren’t,” she said. When Hollem looked befuddled again, she clarified her statement. “Ex-boyfriends make strange bedfellows.”
“Ah, I see. No, uh, Ensign Grady hasn’t said anything to me. Lieutenant Kandro appears to be fast developing a certain reputation on board. I take it that he isn’t Linda… I mean, Ensign Grady’s favorite person?”
“Well, she’s conflicted. He used her but he also risked his life to pull her out of that Borg hellhole. He can be very charming when he wants to be but–”
“But?”
“Nothing,” she replied.
“It must be something or you wouldn’t have said it?”
“Well…,” she started to say, elongating the word as if to prolong the wait until she said her next sentence. “He comes off as very charming but the longer that you spend with him, the more that it seems like there’s a lot going on in that head of his that you know nothing about. You know what I mean?”
“Sort of,” Hollem said. “I think his condition has an influence on him sometimes.”
“Really? I think his condition is an excuse to let the real Valian out, sometimes,” she said, darkly. Then she smiled. “Then again, I’m biased. Look, Doc, I really have places to go and stuff. What exactly did you want with me anyways?”
“Me? Nothing. I was just…” Hollem looked around the small room, perched high in the warp nacelle. “Passing by.” He concluded the encounter with a satisfied nod before turning around and leaving behind a very bemused Ramblin.
* * * *
Valian Kandro decided that he loved Amara’s laugh. They were sitting in the Backyard bar, nursing drinks. She seemed to find, even the most mundane things about his life, to be interesting.
“My God, it must have been pretty hard, growing up in a Betazoid family. I must have lied to my parents, a hundred times, about things when I was a kid.”
“Tell me about it. On Betazed, you learn very early on to hide certain feelings unless someone picks them up. It’s not very different from keeping a straight face when you really want to laugh.”
“I envy you. You’re so connected to other people.”
Kandro smiled. “We seem to have talked a lot about me. What about you? Why are you here?”
“What? Why is a vivacious, beautiful, intelligent twenty-one year old woman wanting to become assimilated?”
“Something like that. And you’re just vivacious, beautiful and intelligent? Nothing else?”
“Well, I’m also modest.” Valian picked up his drink. “Did I also mention the fact that I’m incredible in bed as well?,” she added sweetly, causing him to swallow down hard to prevent spitting synthehol everywhere.
“No. You never mentioned that.”
She stood up. “I’m bored here. What’s next on the tour?”
Kandro stood up as well. “How about my quarters?,” he asked her, already knowing the answer.
* * * *
“You’re not that much help, Admiral,” said Cardonez.
“I’m sorry, Captain. Given the situation that you’ve described, I think that it’s better if you make a judgment call here as the senior officer,” said the image of Admiral James Gavin from the screen of her Ready Room computer. “By the time that the Federation Council gets around to looking into this matter, it might be weeks or months from now.”
Isabel sat with her arms folded in front of her, a scowl on her face. “This decision is beyond my ability to make it.”
“If that’s true, you have no right to sit in the Captain’s chair,” he said. “You’re a Starfleet Captain. By its very nature, that job puts you in all kinds of situations that could be considered beyond your ability. That’s why they say that a Starship Captain has a learning curve that’s steeper than Mount Everest.”
In spite of herself, she returned his smile. “It’s a big decision to make.”
“It’s no bigger than the sort of life and death decisions that you’ve been making in combat for years. I can appreciate both sides of the argument and I will back up whatever decision that you make, one hundred percent.”
“Why do I expect a ‘but’?”
Gavin was still smiling. “I don’t want you to be making this decision alone. Utilize your First Officer and your senior staff. This isn’t a combat situation and your decision doesn’t have to be a snap judgment. You know where I am if you need me. Gavin out.”
As the screen darkened with the Admiral’s disappearance, she leaned back in her chair. After a moment, she hit her combadge. “Cardonez to Masafumi.”
“Masafumi here.”
“Can I see you in my Ready Room, Commander?”
“Very well. It will be a few minutes since I am currently on the surface, visiting the science team.”
Cardonez signed. He hadn’t mentioned that to her. “Very well, Commander. Cardonez out.”
* * * *
“She did not sound pleased,” said T’Vel.
“No, she didn’t,” said Yashiro Masafumi. They were standing in the middle of a modular science lab on the surface, some three kilometers from the half-buried Cube. On the screen in front of them were ghosty images of Borg drones moving eerily through the corridors of the Borg ship.
“Have you displeased her?”
“A lot of what I do displeases her. However, in this instance, I suspect that she isn’t happy because I didn’t clear my visit with her.”
T’Vel considered this for a moment. “It seems that the two of you do not form a particularly stable command team. I would say that it is illogical to remain in such a position if it is detrimental to your ability to function. My original offer of a position on my team still stands.”
Masafumi laughed. “Thank you, Commander, but I’m happy where I am for the moment.”
T’Vel raised an eyebrow quizzically. “I do not understand?”
“I would not expect you to. My reasons for staying aboard the Testudo would not seem logical. Anyways, I probably have a few minutes of grace and I don’t want to waste them. How many are there?,” he asked, pointing at the monitor screen.
“We have identified and tagged two hundred and three drones.”
“What about the failed assimilations?”
“They are no longer functioning,” T’Vel said coldly.
“You mean, they’re dead?”
“Yes. Mainly they were crew from the USS Aora. I believe that the last one expired twenty-three hours after we set up our base.”
“You didn’t try to help them?,” he asked incredulously.
“There was nothing that we could do. As your own Chief Medical Officer had ascertained, they were beyond our help. Besides, it would have further contaminated the environment.”
Masafumi fought back the desire to argue with her. Reminding himself that she wasn’t going out of her way to upset him, she was simply presenting him logically with the facts. As a scientist, this would normally assuage him. However, right now, it didn’t. Maybe it was because it involved the Borg.
“I should be going,” he said simply before he tapped his combadge. “Masafumi to Testudo. One to beam up.”
* * * *
When her door chimes rang, Captain Cardonez automatically assumed that it was Commander Masafumi and she was surprised when Lieutenant Dayle entered the room.
“Counselor, how can I help you?,” she asked him.
For a man who exuded calm, he seemed to be quite put out. “I want to make a formal complaint against Doctor Hollem.”
Uh-oh, she thought. “What’s he done now?”
“He has demanded that I reveal confidential information about my patients.”
“Ah, I take it that those patients are the five officers who had a close encounter with the Borg?”
“Why, yes,” Dayle said, somewhat surprised.
“I asked him to investigate the possibility that one of those officers might have sabotaged Aurelia’s ship.”
“And you suggested that he pump me for information?”
“Something like that, yes. I thought that it might be easier than coming to you myself. Especially with him being another health care professional.”
“It’s hardly the same thing.”
“Lieutenant, the safety of this ship might be at stake and while I appreciate your devotion to your principles, I have to override them. Did you tell him what he needed to know?”
Dayle was quiet for a moment, staring at Cardonez with what she could only describe as disappointment. For some reason, that saddened her. “Yes. This time, I did,” he finally said. “I’m willing to compromise my integrity this time. I cannot promise to do the same again. I also didn’t give him specific information. Just generalizations about the individuals in question and their reaction to the incident with the Borg.”
“And?,” she probed.
“Mason took it hard. He was in a lot of pain and the trauma that it caused him isn’t going to go away any time soon. He has, however, made a conscious effort to help himself. Ensign Grady was initially very upset but she has readjusted quite quickly. If anything, she seems more hung up on talking about Lieutenant Kandro than anything else. Lieutenant Kandro worries me, most of all precisely, because he shows no signs of any trauma at all. It’s as if anything, the entire affair fascinates him on some level. I refused to say anything about Lieutenant Commander Huntington simply because he isn’t here and that has no bearing on the case.”
“And Commander Masafumi?,” she asked as her door chimes rang again. “Come.” She knew that it would probably be her First Officer this time. It was.
“I’m sorry, Captain. Should I come back if this is a bad time?”
“No. Come in, Commander.” Dayle looked curiously at Cardonez. “Go on, Lieutenant. It’s time that I brought my First Officer in on this.”
Masafumi looked perplexed but the counselor continued, nervously. “Commander Masafumi feels very angry towards the Borg. However, he has externalized that anger rather than letting it fester away.”
“And as to whether any of these officers are capable of sabotage?”
“I do not believe that any of them are capable of such an act.”
“Very well. Dismissed.” As Dayle left the Ready Room, Masafumi stayed motionless, staring at his Commanding Officer
As the door slid shut, he finally spoke up. “You were investigating me?”
“Actually, Hollem was, but at my instruction. Sit down,” she said, gesturing towards a chair. “What I should have done was trust my First Officer. I know, damned well, that it wasn’t you. I’m just second-guessing myself since I got this promotion.”
He was surprised that she was revealing that fact to him. However, he was also secretly proud that she trusted him. “And what are you going to do about that?,” he asked her.
She smiled. “I’m going to stop right now. Ever since this situation started, I’ve been accommodating because that’s what I thought that a captain should me. Well, no more. I know what my gut told me about this situation from the first moment that Aurelia revealed her intentions and my feelings haven’t changed. I spoke to Admiral Gavin earlier and he told me that if I couldn’t handle the big decisions, then I have no right being in the Captain’s chair.” When Masafumi tilted his head in a silent question, she continued with a smile,” I like that seat. It’s comfy. I have no desire to give it up.”
“And Aurelia? You heard Dayle’s comments earlier…”
“Playing the Devil’s Advocate doesn’t suit you, but I like it anyway. Yes, I know what Dayle said. That’s why I wanted to talk to you first before I do what I’m planning to do..”
“Are you hoping that I’ll agree with you?”
“Actually, I’m kind of hoping that you’ll talk me out of it,” Cardonez said before she began to illustrate her idea.
Chapter Four
Valian Kandro rolled over in bed so he could stare into Amara’s eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he told her for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“You keep saying that!,” she said with a smile. “You’ve better be careful or I might soon start to think that you’re lying.”
“Never!,” he said playfully. Suddenly he closed his eyes tight as pain lanced through his head.
“Valian!,” she shouted with concern in her voice, and in spite of the pain, he was pleased to hear it. “What’s wrong?” She reached her hands out to try and soothe him.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, pulling himself away from her outstretched hands and turned over so he could grab the hypospray beside his bed. As he placed it against his neck and hit the injector button, the pain lessened and he let out a contented sigh. He dropped the hypospray and let himself fall back onto the bed.
“That’s better,” he mumbled.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?,” Amara asked him.
Kandro yawned, stretching his arms above his head before he dropped them down again so he was lying there, facing her. “It’s called Silena. It’s a Betazoid condition that affects my empathic and telepathic abilities. Right now, I can’t sense a thing from you. That’ll last for a few hours before the attack fades and my abilities return.”
His other senses were working just fine though and he saw the look of concern on her face. She reached over and gently stroked his forehead. “And the pain?”
“That’s where the injections come in. A nifty little substance called Pylium. It suppresses the headaches.” When the concerned look on her face didn’t go away, he smiled. “It’s okay. I’m fine now. Just be glad that I wasn’t born three hundred years ago before someone discovered Pylium. Back then, Betazoids with Silena tended to go mad from the pain.”
“It must be terrible to be so connected to people most of the time and then lose that ability.”
“You get used to it,” he replied but his voice was flat and he failed to be convincing.
“Really? I envy you anyway. I would love to be that connected.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Maybe. I’ve always liked the fact that I feel closer to people during sex. It doesn’t last though, no matter how much you look at it. They always claim that everyone has a soulmate.” She smiled. “Believe me. I’ve looked long and hard for mine.”
Kandro shifted uncomfortably, his ego deflating by the moment. “Actually, what I mean was, is that why you’ve come to Malthea II?”
“Ah, sorry. Yes, I suppose it is. I’ve always felt disconnected from others ever since I was a little girl. I ran away from home when I was thirteen and I’ve been running around, searching for something indefatigable ever since. I ran into Aurelia and her group, about seven months ago. I was amazed to find people who felt the same way and for a short time, I didn’t feel lonely anymore. It didn’t last though and Aurelia knew it. I began to understand what the others meant about the Borg being our saviors. They are never alone and never disconnected from each other. All we want to do is hear the song in our heads and be surrounded by the voices all the time.” Kandro shivered at the prospect. “Do you think that your Captain will allow us?”
“I don’t know,” he answered her. In truth, he didn’t. His captain seemed to be confused over the issue. Conflicted, perhaps, because of how Aurelia’s situation mirrored her own; a woman born of two vastly different worlds. Wanting to steer the subject away from Cardonez, he asked her,” So why are the others here?”
“Well, you know why Aurelia’s here. Lambert lost his entire family in the war. I guess he wants to ensure that his memories of them don’t die. Weir is like me, searching for something to remind him that he’s alive. Keransen, the Zakdorn, lost his twin brother a few years ago and as you can imagine, his life has been pretty empty since.” Kandro did, knowing about the special link that Zakdorn twins shared. “And Rylus Selon, the Trill… Well, he lost a brother too, several years ago. I believe he was a Starfleet officer. They were both in line to receive symbionts but after his brother was declared missing and presumed dead, Rylus went a little off the rails and ended up being dropped by the Symbiosis Commission. We’re never sure if he’s looking for a replacement brother or a chance to experience something like symbiosis.” She smiled playfully. “Those are our stories. What’s yours? Why are you here?”
“Here in this bed or here on this ship?,” he laughed.
Amara gently poked him in the ribs. “You know what I mean!”
“Well, it’s not much of a story. I served with Captain Cardonez on the USS Galaxy. When she got her own command, I followed her to the Osprey and then she dragged me along here.”
“It must be nice to belong somewhere.”
“A lot of the time, it is,” Kandro said. “Look, I have to be on duty in a few minutes. Maybe we could meet up again later?”
Amara swung out of bed. “Would there be a point?,” she asked him coldly. For the first time in several years, Valian Kandro was on the receiving end of a cold stab of pain through the heart.
* * * *
Hollem Azahn was getting on Lieutenant Tennyson’s nerves. She had told him that she would speak to him later but he insisted on following her around Main Engineering. She was now trying to realign the antimatter injectors when he jabbered on in her ears.
“So you’re telling me that there’s no one who can determine other people’s authorization codes?”
“No. That’s not what I said at all. There are a few people. Senior officers and Security but that’s it. Anyone else who wanted to get Ramblin’s authorization code would have to be a…” She paused, wary about what she was going to say next but knowing that Hollem wouldn’t let up. “Would have to be a mind reader.”
“Ah, I see,” Hollem said, nodding. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll let you back to, well, whatever it is that you’re doing.” He was soon gone.
As he left Main Engineering, he almost ran straight into Lieutenant Ramblin and Ensign Grady who were standing nearby and talking. As he excused himself past them, he couldn’t help noticing that they had stopped talking as soon as he appeared. They were also giving him suspicious looks as he passed by.
“Curious,” he muttered to himself as he walked around the corner and heard the echo of a conversation start up again. Although the voices were low and the actual words were inaudible, he caught the tone of the conversation and it appeared that one of the two women was quite angry about something.
* * * *
Two hours had passed by when Aurelia and her group were called up to the Bridge. They stood together now by the door to Cardonez’s Ready Room. Commander Masafumi was sitting in the command chair and he had said very little to the group, other than to assure them that the Captain would be out shortly. Up the ramp from the group stood the Security Officer who had escorted them here. Crewman Drul’sk was hulking enough if you were on ground level. Standing up the ramp towards the turbolift, however, the Klingon looked like he was eight feet tall. He appeared to be bored but he kept his rigid gaze on the group with a phaser holstered on his hip.
Everyone else was at their stations, including Mason at Tactical and Ensign Grady who was working at one of the Science stations at the rear of the Bridge.
Drul’sk didn’t blink as the turbolift doors opened behind him, allowing Lieutenant Dayle and Commander T’Vel to enter. Upon seeing the cluttered Bridge, the Vulcan woman looked over at Masafumi.
“Commander, why are we all here?”
“The Captain will answer that,” he replied before tapping his combadge. “Masafumi to Cardonez. Everyone is here now.”
A moment later, the doors to the Ready Room opened and the Captain came out. Doctor Hollem walked out, two steps behind her. She quickly took her seat, allowing the Bajoran to take the empty third seat in the command area.
“Well, will the Admiral back us up?,” Masafumi asked her.
“He will,” Cardonez said. “Aurelia, I want you to know that I’ve made my decision. In a few moments, if you wish, I will beam you and your party down to the surface of Malthea II.”
The tiny group came alive, hugging each other and laughing as if they had won some grand prize.
“First though, Commander T’Vel, I’ll need you to deactivate the shield around the Cube.”
“So long as my objection is noted for the log,” she replied before she turned towards Aurelia. “You realize that there is only a sixty-five percent chance of successful assimilation?”
“Of course, we do. What other option do we have?”
T’Vel moved over to the Ops console. “Lieutenant, if you do not mind,” she said, gesturing for the Betazoid operations officer to stand from his chair.
“Be my guest,” he replied.
As T’Vel sat down and began entering commands into the console, all eyes on the Bridge were on her. All except for the eyes of Crewman Drul’sk. He stealthily moved across the back of the Bridge until he was standing immediately next to Ensign Grady. His hand was gripping the handle of his phaser.
“The command has been implemented,” T’Vel said, standing.
“Acknowledged,” Masafumi said, checking the console monitor by his side. “The shield is down. Captain, our tactical systems have just come online!”
“Drul’sk!,” Cardonez shouted and at that moment, the Klingon Security Officer sprang forward and grabbed Mason in a tight bear hug, pulling him away from the Tactical console.
“I’m sorry but you shouldn’t have done it,” he snarled.
Masafumi rose quickly and made his way up to the Tactical station. “We made it. I have four torpedoes armed and targeted but we got him in time to prevent a launch.”
“Why?! Why did you stop me? We have to destroy them! We have to!,” screamed Mason, pleading.before he broke down, sobbing while Drul’sk held him. A moment later, two more Security officers entered the Bridge.
“Take him below. Drul’sk, you stay here,” Cardonez said before she turned towards Hollem. “How did you know?”
“It was simple. Lieutenant Tennyson told me that only Security would have access to the authorization codes. I discounted Lieutenant Kandro as it would be doubtful that his telepathic abilities would have been strong enough to pick up that kind of information. Taking this into account with Lieutenant Dayle’s assessment that he was worried about Mason because he wasn’t showing any obvious signs of trauma.”
Cardonez leaned forward. “Uh, Doctor, that was Valian. Dayle told me that he had no concerns over Lieutenant Mason.”
“Oh,” was all that Hollem could say.
Dayle and Masafumi were suppressing smiles but she beamed brightly. “That’s Okay, Doctor. Every good detective needs a healthy dose of luck. Maybe next time, I’ll leave it to Commander Huntington though.”
“Excuse me,” broke in Aurelia,” but did you just use us as a way to trap one of your officers’ betrayal?”
“I won’t lie. It was a good opportunity to smoke him out but my proposal still stands. I will beam you down. First things first, however.” She turned in her chair to look at Masafumi who was still standing at the Tactical station. “Commander, I can do it if you’d like.”
“That’s okay, Captain. I think it’ll be quite cathartic.”
“What are you talking about?,” asked Aurelia. “What’s going on?”
Cardonez allowed her gaze to meet Aurelia’s. If the other woman detected anything in her eyes, she didn’t show it. Slowly, the Captain turned back to the main viewscreen. She gazed at the planet for a moment and when she finally spoke, all that she uttered was a single word and she said it so quietly that Masafumi barely heard her.
“Fire.”
Valian Kandro rolled over in bed so he could stare into Amara’s eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he told her for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“You keep saying that!,” she said with a smile. “You’ve better be careful or I might soon start to think that you’re lying.”
“Never!,” he said playfully. Suddenly he closed his eyes tight as pain lanced through his head.
“Valian!,” she shouted with concern in her voice, and in spite of the pain, he was pleased to hear it. “What’s wrong?” She reached her hands out to try and soothe him.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, pulling himself away from her outstretched hands and turned over so he could grab the hypospray beside his bed. As he placed it against his neck and hit the injector button, the pain lessened and he let out a contented sigh. He dropped the hypospray and let himself fall back onto the bed.
“That’s better,” he mumbled.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?,” Amara asked him.
Kandro yawned, stretching his arms above his head before he dropped them down again so he was lying there, facing her. “It’s called Silena. It’s a Betazoid condition that affects my empathic and telepathic abilities. Right now, I can’t sense a thing from you. That’ll last for a few hours before the attack fades and my abilities return.”
His other senses were working just fine though and he saw the look of concern on her face. She reached over and gently stroked his forehead. “And the pain?”
“That’s where the injections come in. A nifty little substance called Pylium. It suppresses the headaches.” When the concerned look on her face didn’t go away, he smiled. “It’s okay. I’m fine now. Just be glad that I wasn’t born three hundred years ago before someone discovered Pylium. Back then, Betazoids with Silena tended to go mad from the pain.”
“It must be terrible to be so connected to people most of the time and then lose that ability.”
“You get used to it,” he replied but his voice was flat and he failed to be convincing.
“Really? I envy you anyway. I would love to be that connected.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Maybe. I’ve always liked the fact that I feel closer to people during sex. It doesn’t last though, no matter how much you look at it. They always claim that everyone has a soulmate.” She smiled. “Believe me. I’ve looked long and hard for mine.”
Kandro shifted uncomfortably, his ego deflating by the moment. “Actually, what I mean was, is that why you’ve come to Malthea II?”
“Ah, sorry. Yes, I suppose it is. I’ve always felt disconnected from others ever since I was a little girl. I ran away from home when I was thirteen and I’ve been running around, searching for something indefatigable ever since. I ran into Aurelia and her group, about seven months ago. I was amazed to find people who felt the same way and for a short time, I didn’t feel lonely anymore. It didn’t last though and Aurelia knew it. I began to understand what the others meant about the Borg being our saviors. They are never alone and never disconnected from each other. All we want to do is hear the song in our heads and be surrounded by the voices all the time.” Kandro shivered at the prospect. “Do you think that your Captain will allow us?”
“I don’t know,” he answered her. In truth, he didn’t. His captain seemed to be confused over the issue. Conflicted, perhaps, because of how Aurelia’s situation mirrored her own; a woman born of two vastly different worlds. Wanting to steer the subject away from Cardonez, he asked her,” So why are the others here?”
“Well, you know why Aurelia’s here. Lambert lost his entire family in the war. I guess he wants to ensure that his memories of them don’t die. Weir is like me, searching for something to remind him that he’s alive. Keransen, the Zakdorn, lost his twin brother a few years ago and as you can imagine, his life has been pretty empty since.” Kandro did, knowing about the special link that Zakdorn twins shared. “And Rylus Selon, the Trill… Well, he lost a brother too, several years ago. I believe he was a Starfleet officer. They were both in line to receive symbionts but after his brother was declared missing and presumed dead, Rylus went a little off the rails and ended up being dropped by the Symbiosis Commission. We’re never sure if he’s looking for a replacement brother or a chance to experience something like symbiosis.” She smiled playfully. “Those are our stories. What’s yours? Why are you here?”
“Here in this bed or here on this ship?,” he laughed.
Amara gently poked him in the ribs. “You know what I mean!”
“Well, it’s not much of a story. I served with Captain Cardonez on the USS Galaxy. When she got her own command, I followed her to the Osprey and then she dragged me along here.”
“It must be nice to belong somewhere.”
“A lot of the time, it is,” Kandro said. “Look, I have to be on duty in a few minutes. Maybe we could meet up again later?”
Amara swung out of bed. “Would there be a point?,” she asked him coldly. For the first time in several years, Valian Kandro was on the receiving end of a cold stab of pain through the heart.
* * * *
Hollem Azahn was getting on Lieutenant Tennyson’s nerves. She had told him that she would speak to him later but he insisted on following her around Main Engineering. She was now trying to realign the antimatter injectors when he jabbered on in her ears.
“So you’re telling me that there’s no one who can determine other people’s authorization codes?”
“No. That’s not what I said at all. There are a few people. Senior officers and Security but that’s it. Anyone else who wanted to get Ramblin’s authorization code would have to be a…” She paused, wary about what she was going to say next but knowing that Hollem wouldn’t let up. “Would have to be a mind reader.”
“Ah, I see,” Hollem said, nodding. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll let you back to, well, whatever it is that you’re doing.” He was soon gone.
As he left Main Engineering, he almost ran straight into Lieutenant Ramblin and Ensign Grady who were standing nearby and talking. As he excused himself past them, he couldn’t help noticing that they had stopped talking as soon as he appeared. They were also giving him suspicious looks as he passed by.
“Curious,” he muttered to himself as he walked around the corner and heard the echo of a conversation start up again. Although the voices were low and the actual words were inaudible, he caught the tone of the conversation and it appeared that one of the two women was quite angry about something.
* * * *
Two hours had passed by when Aurelia and her group were called up to the Bridge. They stood together now by the door to Cardonez’s Ready Room. Commander Masafumi was sitting in the command chair and he had said very little to the group, other than to assure them that the Captain would be out shortly. Up the ramp from the group stood the Security Officer who had escorted them here. Crewman Drul’sk was hulking enough if you were on ground level. Standing up the ramp towards the turbolift, however, the Klingon looked like he was eight feet tall. He appeared to be bored but he kept his rigid gaze on the group with a phaser holstered on his hip.
Everyone else was at their stations, including Mason at Tactical and Ensign Grady who was working at one of the Science stations at the rear of the Bridge.
Drul’sk didn’t blink as the turbolift doors opened behind him, allowing Lieutenant Dayle and Commander T’Vel to enter. Upon seeing the cluttered Bridge, the Vulcan woman looked over at Masafumi.
“Commander, why are we all here?”
“The Captain will answer that,” he replied before tapping his combadge. “Masafumi to Cardonez. Everyone is here now.”
A moment later, the doors to the Ready Room opened and the Captain came out. Doctor Hollem walked out, two steps behind her. She quickly took her seat, allowing the Bajoran to take the empty third seat in the command area.
“Well, will the Admiral back us up?,” Masafumi asked her.
“He will,” Cardonez said. “Aurelia, I want you to know that I’ve made my decision. In a few moments, if you wish, I will beam you and your party down to the surface of Malthea II.”
The tiny group came alive, hugging each other and laughing as if they had won some grand prize.
“First though, Commander T’Vel, I’ll need you to deactivate the shield around the Cube.”
“So long as my objection is noted for the log,” she replied before she turned towards Aurelia. “You realize that there is only a sixty-five percent chance of successful assimilation?”
“Of course, we do. What other option do we have?”
T’Vel moved over to the Ops console. “Lieutenant, if you do not mind,” she said, gesturing for the Betazoid operations officer to stand from his chair.
“Be my guest,” he replied.
As T’Vel sat down and began entering commands into the console, all eyes on the Bridge were on her. All except for the eyes of Crewman Drul’sk. He stealthily moved across the back of the Bridge until he was standing immediately next to Ensign Grady. His hand was gripping the handle of his phaser.
“The command has been implemented,” T’Vel said, standing.
“Acknowledged,” Masafumi said, checking the console monitor by his side. “The shield is down. Captain, our tactical systems have just come online!”
“Drul’sk!,” Cardonez shouted and at that moment, the Klingon Security Officer sprang forward and grabbed Mason in a tight bear hug, pulling him away from the Tactical console.
“I’m sorry but you shouldn’t have done it,” he snarled.
Masafumi rose quickly and made his way up to the Tactical station. “We made it. I have four torpedoes armed and targeted but we got him in time to prevent a launch.”
“Why?! Why did you stop me? We have to destroy them! We have to!,” screamed Mason, pleading.before he broke down, sobbing while Drul’sk held him. A moment later, two more Security officers entered the Bridge.
“Take him below. Drul’sk, you stay here,” Cardonez said before she turned towards Hollem. “How did you know?”
“It was simple. Lieutenant Tennyson told me that only Security would have access to the authorization codes. I discounted Lieutenant Kandro as it would be doubtful that his telepathic abilities would have been strong enough to pick up that kind of information. Taking this into account with Lieutenant Dayle’s assessment that he was worried about Mason because he wasn’t showing any obvious signs of trauma.”
Cardonez leaned forward. “Uh, Doctor, that was Valian. Dayle told me that he had no concerns over Lieutenant Mason.”
“Oh,” was all that Hollem could say.
Dayle and Masafumi were suppressing smiles but she beamed brightly. “That’s Okay, Doctor. Every good detective needs a healthy dose of luck. Maybe next time, I’ll leave it to Commander Huntington though.”
“Excuse me,” broke in Aurelia,” but did you just use us as a way to trap one of your officers’ betrayal?”
“I won’t lie. It was a good opportunity to smoke him out but my proposal still stands. I will beam you down. First things first, however.” She turned in her chair to look at Masafumi who was still standing at the Tactical station. “Commander, I can do it if you’d like.”
“That’s okay, Captain. I think it’ll be quite cathartic.”
“What are you talking about?,” asked Aurelia. “What’s going on?”
Cardonez allowed her gaze to meet Aurelia’s. If the other woman detected anything in her eyes, she didn’t show it. Slowly, the Captain turned back to the main viewscreen. She gazed at the planet for a moment and when she finally spoke, all that she uttered was a single word and she said it so quietly that Masafumi barely heard her.
“Fire.”
Epilogue
“No!,” Aurelia cried out but it was too late. Masafumi jabbed his finger down on the tactical panel and four crimson objects that shone like miniature stars shot forth from the ship’s torpedo launchers as one. When they struck the Borg Cube below, seconds later, they did so as one again.
The explosion seems so small from up here, Cardonez thought when the thing burst of light briefly flared on the planet’s surface.
“Direct hit, Captain,” Masafumi said with less enthusiasm than she would have expected from him. “The target appears to have been destroyed.”
“Thank you, Commander. Fire another volley though, just to be sure.”
As the second explosion flashed on the surface, the eerie silence that hung over the Bridge and which had only been punctuated by Cardonez, Masafumi, and Aurelia’s negative scream, was shattered and people began to talk.
“Captain Cardonez, I cannot believe that you have done this,” T’Vel said, coldly. Her voice was betraying just a subtle hint of emotion and Cardonez took a perverse pleasure in that. “You have destroyed years of valuable research work that my team and I could have undertaken.”
“You… you… you’ve destroyed our future,” stammered Aurelia before she asked, pleadingly,” Did you fear it that much?”
Isabel stood up, remaining near her seat though and faced Aurelia, T’Vel, and the others. If looks could kill, she decided that she would already be dead. Even her own crew seemed to be wary. Well, Admiral Gavin had said it best. If she couldn’t deal with situations like this, she didn’t belong in the Captain’s chair.
“Aurelia, you’re very adept at quoting law and policy to us earlier. That got me thinking. Do you know what General Order Alpha-Nine Is?” Aurelia looked blankly back at her so she continued,” General Order Alpha-Nine was created specifically after the Battle of Wolf 359. I won’t bore you with all of the specifics but it’s intended to serve as a guide to Starfleet officers in dealing with the Borg. It’s long-winded but it has two salient points that impact upon my decision. One - A Federation citizen assimilated by the Borg is to be considered a hostage and every effort is to be made to rescue the individual if possible. And I emphasize that point ‘if possible’. Two - A Federation ship is allowed to use any and all force to defend itself and any other Federation vessel, colony or outpost that is threatened by the Borg.”
“Intriguing,” said T’Vel,” but it is hardly the justification for genocide.”
“No?,” asked Cardonez. “We couldn’t rescue the individuals down there. The mutation that keeps the Borg disconnected from the hive also mutates their bodies to a point where we cannot reverse the assimilation process. Correct, Doctor?”
“Yes,” answered Hollem. “After a few days, the mutated nanoprobes bond irrevocably with the host cells.”
“Thank you, Doctor. As to the second point, I’m well within my authority to destroy a Borg threat. I saw the Cube down there as a threat.”
“That argument holds no water,” said the old man, Lambert. “It can’t affect anyone. It crashed and was marooned here.”
“I would have to disagree with you. That Cube has been having a profound impact on this sector of space for a long time. For years, the Pakleds, in league with former Administrator Blake, attacked and plundered ships in this area. Trading lives to the Borg in exchange for technology. You’ve been here for just a few days and managed to destroy a Federation runabout and have your own ship destroyed. I don’t know how you learned about the Borg and I don’t care but I would be willing to bet that you passed that information along to similarly-minded individuals before you came here.”
Aurelia and her people were silent.
“I thought so. Even if I let you go and become Borg, how long will it be before the next group comes along? How long before someone else decides to use what was down there to their own advantage? Who’s next? The Ferengi? The Breen? The Romulans? I’m not willing to gamble with the lives of my crew or the colonists down there.” She pointed at the planet on the main viewer. “That Cube has done enough damage. That ends now.”
The Bridge was silent again. After a moment, T’Vel stepped forward. “I should go and prepare my team. I trust that you can transport us to the nearest Starbase?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” The Vulcan gave her a small nod. “Logical, Captain. Quite logical.” Then she turned and left the Bridge.
Aurelia and her group were still standing together with shocked expressions on their faces. “You won’t get away with this. “I’ll take this to the Federation Council. You just killed innocent people.”
“No. I just rescued innocent people in the only way that I could. If the Federation wants to sanction me for my actions, then they can, but I will defend my actions to the hilt. Now then, you have a choice. We can drop you off at the nearest Starbase or we can leave you here. The Malthea colony is always happy to accept new citizens and it’s a nice planet.”
Aurelia didn’t consult with her people. “We will leave. There’s nothing down on that planet for us now.”
“Very well. Mister Drul’sk, please escort our guests back to their quarters.”
As the group began to move towards the turbolift, Isabel noticed that Kandro was desperately trying to make eye contact with the girl named Amara, failing miserably.
Aurelia wasn’t moving though. She was staring right at Cardonez. “It must be so easy to be the perfect Starfleet Captain, isn’t it? I hope you never have to know what it’s like to be different.”
Under different circumstances, Cardonez would have engaged her in a reasoned debate. Unfortunately, she was tired, pissed off and this woman was getting on her nerves. She sat down and pushed her hands through her hair, drawing it back to reveal her pointed ears. She let her drop behind her ears now, enjoying the look of shock on Aurelia’s face.
“We all have our crosses to bear, Aurelia. Why not try doing what the rest of us do? Live with it.” She stood up and walked past her towards her Ready Room. As she did, she passed by Lieutenant Dayle who had an angry look on his face.
“I can’t believe that you did that,” he said, seething underneath his breath. “I told you about the possible damage that it could do to those people.”
Cardonez stopped, relieved that, for once, her stomach wasn’t flipping around in his presence. “Counselor, let’s talk about this tomorrow.”
“No! I want to talk about it now!”
Cardonez gave him a thin, cold smile. “Lieutenant, we’ll talk tomorrow,” she said, emphasizing the word Lieutenant before she walked into the Ready Room. As the door closed behind her, she slumped slightly. Walking over to the replicator, she ordered a glass of eliberry juice. Then she sat down behind her desk and closed her eyes.
Her rest lasted all of two seconds before the door chimes rang. While she was tempted to tell whoever it was to go to Hell, she bade them to enter instead.
Commander Masafumi walked in. “Captain, I’m sorry to bother you but –”
“But what?” Her tone was sharp. “I’m sorry, Yashiro,” she added softly. “What is it?”
He smiled. “I wondered if we might leave Lieutenant Kandro in charge of the ship and retire to the holodeck for a while. I have an interesting new program that might help alleviate the stress that we’ve both been under.”
“What is it? Some kind of meditative Zen garden-type thing? Because I’ve got to tell you that they don’t work too well on me.”
His smile broadened. “Actually, it’s an authentic twenty-first century professional wrestling card. Including the classic battle of 2014 between Akira Takomori and the American Devil, Steve Vega.”
Cardonez smiled back at him now. “Is it violent?”
“Quite. Although the first bout of the evening is more so. An exploding piranha match between the Green Dragon and his archenemy Cheng.”
“It sounds relaxing as well,” Isabel said, standing up from her seat. “Let’s go.”
The End.
Tab-u-la ra-sa
“No!,” Aurelia cried out but it was too late. Masafumi jabbed his finger down on the tactical panel and four crimson objects that shone like miniature stars shot forth from the ship’s torpedo launchers as one. When they struck the Borg Cube below, seconds later, they did so as one again.
The explosion seems so small from up here, Cardonez thought when the thing burst of light briefly flared on the planet’s surface.
“Direct hit, Captain,” Masafumi said with less enthusiasm than she would have expected from him. “The target appears to have been destroyed.”
“Thank you, Commander. Fire another volley though, just to be sure.”
As the second explosion flashed on the surface, the eerie silence that hung over the Bridge and which had only been punctuated by Cardonez, Masafumi, and Aurelia’s negative scream, was shattered and people began to talk.
“Captain Cardonez, I cannot believe that you have done this,” T’Vel said, coldly. Her voice was betraying just a subtle hint of emotion and Cardonez took a perverse pleasure in that. “You have destroyed years of valuable research work that my team and I could have undertaken.”
“You… you… you’ve destroyed our future,” stammered Aurelia before she asked, pleadingly,” Did you fear it that much?”
Isabel stood up, remaining near her seat though and faced Aurelia, T’Vel, and the others. If looks could kill, she decided that she would already be dead. Even her own crew seemed to be wary. Well, Admiral Gavin had said it best. If she couldn’t deal with situations like this, she didn’t belong in the Captain’s chair.
“Aurelia, you’re very adept at quoting law and policy to us earlier. That got me thinking. Do you know what General Order Alpha-Nine Is?” Aurelia looked blankly back at her so she continued,” General Order Alpha-Nine was created specifically after the Battle of Wolf 359. I won’t bore you with all of the specifics but it’s intended to serve as a guide to Starfleet officers in dealing with the Borg. It’s long-winded but it has two salient points that impact upon my decision. One - A Federation citizen assimilated by the Borg is to be considered a hostage and every effort is to be made to rescue the individual if possible. And I emphasize that point ‘if possible’. Two - A Federation ship is allowed to use any and all force to defend itself and any other Federation vessel, colony or outpost that is threatened by the Borg.”
“Intriguing,” said T’Vel,” but it is hardly the justification for genocide.”
“No?,” asked Cardonez. “We couldn’t rescue the individuals down there. The mutation that keeps the Borg disconnected from the hive also mutates their bodies to a point where we cannot reverse the assimilation process. Correct, Doctor?”
“Yes,” answered Hollem. “After a few days, the mutated nanoprobes bond irrevocably with the host cells.”
“Thank you, Doctor. As to the second point, I’m well within my authority to destroy a Borg threat. I saw the Cube down there as a threat.”
“That argument holds no water,” said the old man, Lambert. “It can’t affect anyone. It crashed and was marooned here.”
“I would have to disagree with you. That Cube has been having a profound impact on this sector of space for a long time. For years, the Pakleds, in league with former Administrator Blake, attacked and plundered ships in this area. Trading lives to the Borg in exchange for technology. You’ve been here for just a few days and managed to destroy a Federation runabout and have your own ship destroyed. I don’t know how you learned about the Borg and I don’t care but I would be willing to bet that you passed that information along to similarly-minded individuals before you came here.”
Aurelia and her people were silent.
“I thought so. Even if I let you go and become Borg, how long will it be before the next group comes along? How long before someone else decides to use what was down there to their own advantage? Who’s next? The Ferengi? The Breen? The Romulans? I’m not willing to gamble with the lives of my crew or the colonists down there.” She pointed at the planet on the main viewer. “That Cube has done enough damage. That ends now.”
The Bridge was silent again. After a moment, T’Vel stepped forward. “I should go and prepare my team. I trust that you can transport us to the nearest Starbase?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” The Vulcan gave her a small nod. “Logical, Captain. Quite logical.” Then she turned and left the Bridge.
Aurelia and her group were still standing together with shocked expressions on their faces. “You won’t get away with this. “I’ll take this to the Federation Council. You just killed innocent people.”
“No. I just rescued innocent people in the only way that I could. If the Federation wants to sanction me for my actions, then they can, but I will defend my actions to the hilt. Now then, you have a choice. We can drop you off at the nearest Starbase or we can leave you here. The Malthea colony is always happy to accept new citizens and it’s a nice planet.”
Aurelia didn’t consult with her people. “We will leave. There’s nothing down on that planet for us now.”
“Very well. Mister Drul’sk, please escort our guests back to their quarters.”
As the group began to move towards the turbolift, Isabel noticed that Kandro was desperately trying to make eye contact with the girl named Amara, failing miserably.
Aurelia wasn’t moving though. She was staring right at Cardonez. “It must be so easy to be the perfect Starfleet Captain, isn’t it? I hope you never have to know what it’s like to be different.”
Under different circumstances, Cardonez would have engaged her in a reasoned debate. Unfortunately, she was tired, pissed off and this woman was getting on her nerves. She sat down and pushed her hands through her hair, drawing it back to reveal her pointed ears. She let her drop behind her ears now, enjoying the look of shock on Aurelia’s face.
“We all have our crosses to bear, Aurelia. Why not try doing what the rest of us do? Live with it.” She stood up and walked past her towards her Ready Room. As she did, she passed by Lieutenant Dayle who had an angry look on his face.
“I can’t believe that you did that,” he said, seething underneath his breath. “I told you about the possible damage that it could do to those people.”
Cardonez stopped, relieved that, for once, her stomach wasn’t flipping around in his presence. “Counselor, let’s talk about this tomorrow.”
“No! I want to talk about it now!”
Cardonez gave him a thin, cold smile. “Lieutenant, we’ll talk tomorrow,” she said, emphasizing the word Lieutenant before she walked into the Ready Room. As the door closed behind her, she slumped slightly. Walking over to the replicator, she ordered a glass of eliberry juice. Then she sat down behind her desk and closed her eyes.
Her rest lasted all of two seconds before the door chimes rang. While she was tempted to tell whoever it was to go to Hell, she bade them to enter instead.
Commander Masafumi walked in. “Captain, I’m sorry to bother you but –”
“But what?” Her tone was sharp. “I’m sorry, Yashiro,” she added softly. “What is it?”
He smiled. “I wondered if we might leave Lieutenant Kandro in charge of the ship and retire to the holodeck for a while. I have an interesting new program that might help alleviate the stress that we’ve both been under.”
“What is it? Some kind of meditative Zen garden-type thing? Because I’ve got to tell you that they don’t work too well on me.”
His smile broadened. “Actually, it’s an authentic twenty-first century professional wrestling card. Including the classic battle of 2014 between Akira Takomori and the American Devil, Steve Vega.”
Cardonez smiled back at him now. “Is it violent?”
“Quite. Although the first bout of the evening is more so. An exploding piranha match between the Green Dragon and his archenemy Cheng.”
“It sounds relaxing as well,” Isabel said, standing up from her seat. “Let’s go.”
The End.
Tab-u-la ra-sa
- The mind before it received the impressions gained from experience.
- The unformed, featureless mind in the philosophy of John Locke.
- A need or an opportunity to start from the beginning.
I'm just busy, busy, busy... LOL!
Star Trek: Into the Void
Episode 07 - ‘Here Be Dragons’
By Jack D. Elmlinger
Prologue
Captain’s Log, Stardate 54583.6;
We are currently in orbit of Cassius V, conducting an in-depth study of the planet’s unique weather patterns. I have left Commander Masafumi to run the study and I have allowed myself a few hours off to visit the holodeck.
Isabel Cardonez closed her eyes, allowing the sea spray to blow against her voice. It was invigorating, smelling the salt in the air. The holodeck never ceased to amaze her. Neither did historical fashions. The Edwardian dress that she was wearing was possibly the most uncomfortable thing that she had ever worn. Especially the girdle that she had somehow squeezed herself into.
She opened her eyes and looked back at where Adam Huntington was standing, resplendent in a gray suit and black bowler hat. He was the very model of an English gentleman. “That look suits you,” she said.
“Thank you, Isabel,” he replied with a polite nod of his head, touching the brim of his hat.
“What happened to Captain?,” she asked with a smile.
“The early twentieth century wasn’t ready for female ship captains.”
“I’m not surprised, given the outfits,” she said, gesturing to her long red dress that seemed to have a hundred petticoats underneath it. A sudden gust of wind made him reach for her hat, a muddled affair of taffeta and feathers. She needn’t have worried since there were enough hatpins stuck in it to hold it firm in a hurricane. “I can’t believe that I spent more time dressing than I’ll be actually spending here.”
“Stop complaining and enjoy the time that you’ve got. Now then, would you care to take a walk around the ship?”
“Sure.” They strode off, arm in arm. “So there’s no other ships out there?,” she asked him, pointing out at the empty expanse of the Atlantic Ocean that surrounded them.
“No, there are some other ships out there. Luckily, for some of the passengers, anyway.”
Cardonez stopped to inspect the ring-shaped life preserver fastened to one of the walls. “How long has she got?,” she asked, running her hand over the crude surface and tracing the letters.
“Not for long. By this time tomorrow, she’ll be sitting two miles down on the seabed,” replied Huntington.
“RMS Titanic,” she read aloud before looking at the people milling about around them. They had no idea of the fate that awaited them. “How many of them make it?”
“About fifteen hundred people died. The rest are saved. Around nine hundred or so.”
“And you really play this program to the end?”
“Not always. The Titanic has always fascinated me and mostly, I just enjoy being on the ship. Every once in a while though, I play the program all the way through. It was a terrible disaster but it was also a wonderful example of Humans at their best and their worst. Heroism running side-by-side with cowardice.”
“Well, it is a fine ship,” she acknowledged. “I’m not sure if I want to take authenticity as far as going for a swim in icy water though,” she added with a smile.
“Isabel, with the limited amount of time that you’ve allocated yourself for R-and-R, you’ll be long gone before we hit the iceberg.”
“Iceberg?,” asked a voice from behind Huntington. Cardonez looked over his shoulder to see a tall, aloof young man. In a cruel way, he was quite handsome. “Have there been more infernal ice warnings?”
“Yes, there have been,” Adam said. “Mister Hockley, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Cal Hockley,” he replied, sticking out a hand and shaking Huntington’s hand forcefully. “And you are?”
“Lord Huntington. And this is Isabel Cardonez, on her way back to the New World after a visit to London.”
Hockley nodded a greeting with a smile on his lips. “A Mexican. How utterly cosmopolitan.”
“Actually I’m from Venezuela. So the ice warnings don’t worry you?”
“Not at all. All of the icebergs in this damned ocean couldn’t sink this ship.”
“So where are you heading to this afternoon, Mister Hockley?,” asked Huntington.
“I’m looking for my fiance. The damn silly girl has run off somewhere.”
Cardonez bristled but Huntington intervened before she could react. “Well, good luck in finding her. She can’t have gone far,” he said with a smile. “It’s a big ship but not that big.”
Hockley laughed. “That’s true. Good day to you, sir, ma’am,” he said before he walked off.
“Asshole,” she muttered and Huntington laughed. “Was he really a passenger?”
“Oh, yes, and he survived as well. It’s all authentic. I used every historical work that I could lay my hands on. I found out about Hockley from some American historian in the twentieth century named James Cameron.”
“I’ve never heard of him.” her combadge chirped and all around them, the holographic passengers were drawn to the sound. “Computer, freeze program,” Cardonez ordered and the world stopped around her when he tapped her combadge.
“Cardonez here.”
The voice of Valian Kandro came over the intercom. “Captain, we’ve received a Priority One Signal from Starfleet Command. It’s for your eyes only.”
“So much for the little pleasure cruise,” she muttered.
“Sir?,” came the Betazoid’s perplexed and disembodied voice.
“Never mind. I’ll be along in five minutes.” She paused, glancing down at her dress while Huntington suppressed a laugh. “On second thought, you’d better make that twenty minutes! Cardonez out.”
“Oh, well, you got a good five minutes of rest, at least.”
“Commander, watch it! Well, I’ll leave you to it. Maybe I can try it again sometime?”
“Certainly.”
“Great. Just one thing though.”
“Which is?”
“Can I play Hockley’s fiance?,” she asked with a wicked grin.
“You know, I’ve never felt sorry for Cal Hockley before,” he answered her with a grin.
Star Trek: Into the Void
Episode 07 - ‘Here Be Dragons’
By Jack D. Elmlinger
Prologue
Captain’s Log, Stardate 54583.6;
We are currently in orbit of Cassius V, conducting an in-depth study of the planet’s unique weather patterns. I have left Commander Masafumi to run the study and I have allowed myself a few hours off to visit the holodeck.
Isabel Cardonez closed her eyes, allowing the sea spray to blow against her voice. It was invigorating, smelling the salt in the air. The holodeck never ceased to amaze her. Neither did historical fashions. The Edwardian dress that she was wearing was possibly the most uncomfortable thing that she had ever worn. Especially the girdle that she had somehow squeezed herself into.
She opened her eyes and looked back at where Adam Huntington was standing, resplendent in a gray suit and black bowler hat. He was the very model of an English gentleman. “That look suits you,” she said.
“Thank you, Isabel,” he replied with a polite nod of his head, touching the brim of his hat.
“What happened to Captain?,” she asked with a smile.
“The early twentieth century wasn’t ready for female ship captains.”
“I’m not surprised, given the outfits,” she said, gesturing to her long red dress that seemed to have a hundred petticoats underneath it. A sudden gust of wind made him reach for her hat, a muddled affair of taffeta and feathers. She needn’t have worried since there were enough hatpins stuck in it to hold it firm in a hurricane. “I can’t believe that I spent more time dressing than I’ll be actually spending here.”
“Stop complaining and enjoy the time that you’ve got. Now then, would you care to take a walk around the ship?”
“Sure.” They strode off, arm in arm. “So there’s no other ships out there?,” she asked him, pointing out at the empty expanse of the Atlantic Ocean that surrounded them.
“No, there are some other ships out there. Luckily, for some of the passengers, anyway.”
Cardonez stopped to inspect the ring-shaped life preserver fastened to one of the walls. “How long has she got?,” she asked, running her hand over the crude surface and tracing the letters.
“Not for long. By this time tomorrow, she’ll be sitting two miles down on the seabed,” replied Huntington.
“RMS Titanic,” she read aloud before looking at the people milling about around them. They had no idea of the fate that awaited them. “How many of them make it?”
“About fifteen hundred people died. The rest are saved. Around nine hundred or so.”
“And you really play this program to the end?”
“Not always. The Titanic has always fascinated me and mostly, I just enjoy being on the ship. Every once in a while though, I play the program all the way through. It was a terrible disaster but it was also a wonderful example of Humans at their best and their worst. Heroism running side-by-side with cowardice.”
“Well, it is a fine ship,” she acknowledged. “I’m not sure if I want to take authenticity as far as going for a swim in icy water though,” she added with a smile.
“Isabel, with the limited amount of time that you’ve allocated yourself for R-and-R, you’ll be long gone before we hit the iceberg.”
“Iceberg?,” asked a voice from behind Huntington. Cardonez looked over his shoulder to see a tall, aloof young man. In a cruel way, he was quite handsome. “Have there been more infernal ice warnings?”
“Yes, there have been,” Adam said. “Mister Hockley, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Cal Hockley,” he replied, sticking out a hand and shaking Huntington’s hand forcefully. “And you are?”
“Lord Huntington. And this is Isabel Cardonez, on her way back to the New World after a visit to London.”
Hockley nodded a greeting with a smile on his lips. “A Mexican. How utterly cosmopolitan.”
“Actually I’m from Venezuela. So the ice warnings don’t worry you?”
“Not at all. All of the icebergs in this damned ocean couldn’t sink this ship.”
“So where are you heading to this afternoon, Mister Hockley?,” asked Huntington.
“I’m looking for my fiance. The damn silly girl has run off somewhere.”
Cardonez bristled but Huntington intervened before she could react. “Well, good luck in finding her. She can’t have gone far,” he said with a smile. “It’s a big ship but not that big.”
Hockley laughed. “That’s true. Good day to you, sir, ma’am,” he said before he walked off.
“Asshole,” she muttered and Huntington laughed. “Was he really a passenger?”
“Oh, yes, and he survived as well. It’s all authentic. I used every historical work that I could lay my hands on. I found out about Hockley from some American historian in the twentieth century named James Cameron.”
“I’ve never heard of him.” her combadge chirped and all around them, the holographic passengers were drawn to the sound. “Computer, freeze program,” Cardonez ordered and the world stopped around her when he tapped her combadge.
“Cardonez here.”
The voice of Valian Kandro came over the intercom. “Captain, we’ve received a Priority One Signal from Starfleet Command. It’s for your eyes only.”
“So much for the little pleasure cruise,” she muttered.
“Sir?,” came the Betazoid’s perplexed and disembodied voice.
“Never mind. I’ll be along in five minutes.” She paused, glancing down at her dress while Huntington suppressed a laugh. “On second thought, you’d better make that twenty minutes! Cardonez out.”
“Oh, well, you got a good five minutes of rest, at least.”
“Commander, watch it! Well, I’ll leave you to it. Maybe I can try it again sometime?”
“Certainly.”
“Great. Just one thing though.”
“Which is?”
“Can I play Hockley’s fiance?,” she asked with a wicked grin.
“You know, I’ve never felt sorry for Cal Hockley before,” he answered her with a grin.
Chapter One
Commander Yashiro Masafumi walked tentatively down the side of the mountain. Not only was he naturally being careful not to fall but the environmental suit that he was wearing was an added encumbrance. The incline wasn’t too steep but the ground was covered in loose reddish soil that had already caused Ensign Grady to slip.
He looked upwards and behind him. The other two members of the away team, similarly garbed as him, stood near the peak. Silhouetted by the pale green sky, twin moons rode high above them. Waving at them, he turned back to his task and he started to move downwards once more. Below him, the mountain abruptly ended in, at first glance, looked like liquid but it was actually dense clouds that rolled up to the side of the mountain, lapping up against the soil like a tide. The mountain was the highest point on the planet, estimated at over fifteen thousand meters high and yet all but the tip of it was below the impenetrable cloud cover. This area was the only part of the planet that they could use as a beam-down point.
He stopped just shy of the clouds, gasping at the view. As far as the eye could see, it was like an ocean of whiteness. He thought he saw waves in the distance and he reminded himself that it was only turbulence from the fierce wind storms that were rumored to occur kilometers below the surface. He had once read about mountaineers who become so enamored by clouds that they became convinced that they were solid and actually stepped out onto them, plummeting to their deaths. He had always taken such stories with a pinch of salt and yet now, standing here at the edge of the abyss, he could almost believe it.
He took a tiny step forward.
Then another.
And another.
Until he was standing toe-to-toe with the ‘tide’. He took another two steps, gingerly using his toes to determine that the incline kept going rather than dropping off into nothingness. Now he was standing ankle-deep in the clouds, noticing for the first time that its whiteness was misleading. He kneeled down on one knee and gently brushed his hand through it, stirring up wisps of vapor that were a myriad of colors, white, yellow, and blue.
“Going for a paddle, Commander?,” came a good-natured voice in his ear and he looked up to see Ensign Linda Grady standing a few meters away on the ‘shore’.
“Come on in, Ensign. The water’s lovely.”
She laughed. “It is beautiful though, isn’t it?”
Masafumi stepped back onto dry land and looked back out across the ocean of clouds once more. “Yes, and scientifically quite rare. The clouds contain traces of delenite which is found on only a handful of other planets and on no other world in such abundance as this world.”
“Point-zero-four percent doesn’t seem to be very abundant. What can it be used for anyway?”
Inside his suit, Masafumi shrugged. “Nothing as yet, but it does seem to interfere with sensors despite being quite inert. Once we take some samples, we’ll have a better idea than anyone else. As I said, it exists here in much larger quantities than elsewhere. I may be able to determine more about it. I still can’t believe that the Wellington didn’t do a more thorough check when they came through here twenty-odd years ago.”
“Look on the bright side, Commander. It gives you another chance to win the Ai’Banul Prize.”
“Well, of course, I would share any credit with the entire Science team on board,” Masafumi stammered like a man caught out.
“What about the rest of the crew?,” came another voice as Chief Petty Officer Audrey Leong joined the fray.
Masafumi had recovered his composure by now. If serving aboard the Testudo had taught him one thing, it was to be quick-witted. “The rest of the crew will do as they’re told. Especially if they wish to continue being allowed on away missions rather than sitting in a transporter room all day long.”
“Point taken,” said the Testudo’s Chief Transporter Operator.
“How about we circle around to the other side? The initial sensor scans indicated a plateau,” said Grady. “It should be easier to get samples.”
“Excellent idea,” the Commander said and the three of them began trudging off, struggling in the slightly above Earth normal gravity.
They hadn’t walked very far when an incoming signal stopped them in their tracks. “Testudo to Away Team. This is Captain Cardonez.”
“We read you,” replied Masafumi.
“I’m sorry to break up the party but I need to see you urgently, Commander.”
“Can’t it wait for another forty-five minutes? We wish to check out the other side of the mountain.”
“I’m sorry, Commander. I got dragged out of the holodeck by a Priority One communique and I need to confer with Commander Huntington and yourself. Adam isn’t too happy either. He was just about to sit down for dinner at the Captain’s table.”
“At your table?,” asked a bemused Masafumi.
“No, Captain Smith’s. Look, it’s a long story. I need to see you immediately. The rest of the away team can stay as planned.”
“Very well. I will return now. Masafumi out.” He turned towards Grady and Leong. “Well, ladies, you’ll have to finish this mission without me,” he said before reactivating his combadge. “Masafumi to Testudo. One to beam up.”
* * * *
Five minutes passed by and the Testudo’s three senior-most officers were sitting in the Captain’s Ready Room. Yashiro Masafumi had caused a stir by turning up, still in his environmental suit, although he had removed the helmet and gauntlets. Cardonez was glad that she and Huntington had managed to change back into their uniforms or else it would have been a very bizarre meeting indeed.
“A short while ago, I received a Priority One transmission from Starfleet Command. Approximately two days ago, Talarian forces entered the Yeilara system and landed troops on Yeilara II.”
“That’s a Federation colony!,” barked Huntington. “When are our ships moving in to shift them off?”
“They’re not,” replied the Captain.
“What?!,” said Masafumi. “We can’t let a minor race like the Talarians get away with it.”
“We can and apparently we have. The Federation Council is of the opinion that the cost of retaking Yeilara II would be too high.”
“But the Talarians are centuries behind us, technologically. They would be no match for a few starships,” said Huntington.”
“Starfleet would disagree with that tactical assessment. To be fair, it appears that the Talarians have gained improved weaponry and ships within the last few years. They kept their heads down during the Dominion War and built up their forces. By all accounts, the attack on Yeilara II was well-planned and they have landed a substantial number of troops.”
“I wonder who could have been supplying them with their weapons upgrades”
“Starfleet Intelligence believes that it was acquired on the black market. The Talarians recently discovered a substantial vein of dilithium in their territory. Coupled with this, the last year or so has seen a substantial amount of Cardassian military equipment beginning to appear on certain arms dealers’ manifests. Most of the stuff that they used to take Yeilara was former Cardassian.”
Huntington sighed. “Well, that was inevitable. So inevitable that we should have anticipated it. So what is Starfleet going to do?”
“They have signed a treaty with the Talarians, ceding the Yeilara system to them in exchange for the return of three thousand colonists and an agreement that the Talarians won’t expand any further.”
“Damn it!, of course they will,” said Masafumi, angrily. “Yeilara’s only real value is as a staging area. It’s strategically placed close to three other Federation colonies, Tylus, Adrianis, and Archer IV.”
“You sound like you know that area well,” said Huntington.
“My son and ex-wife live on Adrianis,” he replied simply.
“Look, Starfleet was caught flat footed in this instance but it’s putting ships on a high level of alert now. The Carpathia, the Akira, and the Odessa have all been ordered into that region. If the Talarians try to make a move against any other colony, we’ll be more than ready for them. In addition, ships have been ordered to the Romulan and Tzenkethi borders. And to the Bajoran system, in case, anyone else sees this as a good time to attack.”
“Which begs the questions, who are we expecting to attack Sector 29004?,” asked Huntington.
“Well, anticipated, Commander, but it’s just outside the sector actually. Starfleet Intelligence believes that the Throndrix are casting envious glances at the planet Kargenta as a potential new home world.”
“The Throndrix?,” asked Masafumi. “I think I’ve heard the name but I don’t believe that I know much about them.”
“I did a little bit of research when I was assigned to the Testudo,” said Huntington. “The Throndrix was one of the races that I got tactical information about. They’re a nomadic race that abandoned their home planet about two hundred years ago. Since then, they’ve developed a pattern where they spend a few years traveling, then descend on a planet and colonize it. They never stay more than fifty years and they usually end up strip-mining the planet bare. For the most part, they target uninhabited worlds but their last target was, I believe, Treblanix?” Cardonez nodded. “A planet with a preindustrial society that exists outside of Federation space.”
“They apparently left Treblanix seven months ago. Starfleet Intelligence was lax with providing us with that information, especially as they operate on our doorstep,” said Cardonez.
“Do we have a colony on Kargenta?,” asked Masafumi.
“Yes, but only a small one. It’s less than two hundred people but it’s Federation territory.”
“So we’re to warn them off?”
“Exactly. Which means unless Starfleet Intelligence has really lost the plot, it should be relatively simple. They aren’t exactly the Romulans.”
“I would have said the same about the Talarians before today,” Masafumi said, ominously.
“Don’t worry. The Throndrix are way behind us technologically and they have no great desire to improve from what I can gather,” said Huntington. “By all accounts, they’re still using the warp technology that they had when they abandoned their home planet. Warp Three is about as fast as they can travel.”
“It’s a religious thing,” said Cardonez. “Apparently, they world was suffering from environmental collapse when one of their ‘Gods’ descended from Heaven and provided them with warp technology. He told them to search out for a new home and they have been ever since. I think they find the idea of advanced technology to be blasphemous.”
“So we’re going to intercept them before we get to Kargenta and warn them away?”
“Exactly.”
“When do we leave?,” asked Masafumi.
“Within the next hour or so.”
“Captain, I’d like to take that time to conduct another few tests on the surface. Lieutenant Tennyson and myself have expended considerable time and energy, customizing one of our shuttlecraft. It would be a shame to waste the effort.”
“Is this the sonar?,” asked Cardonez.
“Yes. We’ve outfitted a Type-II shuttle with a workable sonar system. As you know, the selenite within the clouds precludes us being able to use conventional sensors. By using old-style sonar, we will be able to get a better picture of what it’s like beneath the surface.”
“We will be coming back, you know,” replied Isabel.
Masafumi smiled. “I know that,” he conceded,” but the shuttle is prepped for a flight and if we have a test run now, it will give us time on the voyage to iron out any flaws that we discover in the system.”
Cardonez smiled. “Okay, logical argument. Take a short flight but be back here in an hour or we’ll leave here without you.”
Masafumi laughed before standing up. “I’m already on my way. I’m glad that I didn’t change out of my suit!”
Commander Yashiro Masafumi walked tentatively down the side of the mountain. Not only was he naturally being careful not to fall but the environmental suit that he was wearing was an added encumbrance. The incline wasn’t too steep but the ground was covered in loose reddish soil that had already caused Ensign Grady to slip.
He looked upwards and behind him. The other two members of the away team, similarly garbed as him, stood near the peak. Silhouetted by the pale green sky, twin moons rode high above them. Waving at them, he turned back to his task and he started to move downwards once more. Below him, the mountain abruptly ended in, at first glance, looked like liquid but it was actually dense clouds that rolled up to the side of the mountain, lapping up against the soil like a tide. The mountain was the highest point on the planet, estimated at over fifteen thousand meters high and yet all but the tip of it was below the impenetrable cloud cover. This area was the only part of the planet that they could use as a beam-down point.
He stopped just shy of the clouds, gasping at the view. As far as the eye could see, it was like an ocean of whiteness. He thought he saw waves in the distance and he reminded himself that it was only turbulence from the fierce wind storms that were rumored to occur kilometers below the surface. He had once read about mountaineers who become so enamored by clouds that they became convinced that they were solid and actually stepped out onto them, plummeting to their deaths. He had always taken such stories with a pinch of salt and yet now, standing here at the edge of the abyss, he could almost believe it.
He took a tiny step forward.
Then another.
And another.
Until he was standing toe-to-toe with the ‘tide’. He took another two steps, gingerly using his toes to determine that the incline kept going rather than dropping off into nothingness. Now he was standing ankle-deep in the clouds, noticing for the first time that its whiteness was misleading. He kneeled down on one knee and gently brushed his hand through it, stirring up wisps of vapor that were a myriad of colors, white, yellow, and blue.
“Going for a paddle, Commander?,” came a good-natured voice in his ear and he looked up to see Ensign Linda Grady standing a few meters away on the ‘shore’.
“Come on in, Ensign. The water’s lovely.”
She laughed. “It is beautiful though, isn’t it?”
Masafumi stepped back onto dry land and looked back out across the ocean of clouds once more. “Yes, and scientifically quite rare. The clouds contain traces of delenite which is found on only a handful of other planets and on no other world in such abundance as this world.”
“Point-zero-four percent doesn’t seem to be very abundant. What can it be used for anyway?”
Inside his suit, Masafumi shrugged. “Nothing as yet, but it does seem to interfere with sensors despite being quite inert. Once we take some samples, we’ll have a better idea than anyone else. As I said, it exists here in much larger quantities than elsewhere. I may be able to determine more about it. I still can’t believe that the Wellington didn’t do a more thorough check when they came through here twenty-odd years ago.”
“Look on the bright side, Commander. It gives you another chance to win the Ai’Banul Prize.”
“Well, of course, I would share any credit with the entire Science team on board,” Masafumi stammered like a man caught out.
“What about the rest of the crew?,” came another voice as Chief Petty Officer Audrey Leong joined the fray.
Masafumi had recovered his composure by now. If serving aboard the Testudo had taught him one thing, it was to be quick-witted. “The rest of the crew will do as they’re told. Especially if they wish to continue being allowed on away missions rather than sitting in a transporter room all day long.”
“Point taken,” said the Testudo’s Chief Transporter Operator.
“How about we circle around to the other side? The initial sensor scans indicated a plateau,” said Grady. “It should be easier to get samples.”
“Excellent idea,” the Commander said and the three of them began trudging off, struggling in the slightly above Earth normal gravity.
They hadn’t walked very far when an incoming signal stopped them in their tracks. “Testudo to Away Team. This is Captain Cardonez.”
“We read you,” replied Masafumi.
“I’m sorry to break up the party but I need to see you urgently, Commander.”
“Can’t it wait for another forty-five minutes? We wish to check out the other side of the mountain.”
“I’m sorry, Commander. I got dragged out of the holodeck by a Priority One communique and I need to confer with Commander Huntington and yourself. Adam isn’t too happy either. He was just about to sit down for dinner at the Captain’s table.”
“At your table?,” asked a bemused Masafumi.
“No, Captain Smith’s. Look, it’s a long story. I need to see you immediately. The rest of the away team can stay as planned.”
“Very well. I will return now. Masafumi out.” He turned towards Grady and Leong. “Well, ladies, you’ll have to finish this mission without me,” he said before reactivating his combadge. “Masafumi to Testudo. One to beam up.”
* * * *
Five minutes passed by and the Testudo’s three senior-most officers were sitting in the Captain’s Ready Room. Yashiro Masafumi had caused a stir by turning up, still in his environmental suit, although he had removed the helmet and gauntlets. Cardonez was glad that she and Huntington had managed to change back into their uniforms or else it would have been a very bizarre meeting indeed.
“A short while ago, I received a Priority One transmission from Starfleet Command. Approximately two days ago, Talarian forces entered the Yeilara system and landed troops on Yeilara II.”
“That’s a Federation colony!,” barked Huntington. “When are our ships moving in to shift them off?”
“They’re not,” replied the Captain.
“What?!,” said Masafumi. “We can’t let a minor race like the Talarians get away with it.”
“We can and apparently we have. The Federation Council is of the opinion that the cost of retaking Yeilara II would be too high.”
“But the Talarians are centuries behind us, technologically. They would be no match for a few starships,” said Huntington.”
“Starfleet would disagree with that tactical assessment. To be fair, it appears that the Talarians have gained improved weaponry and ships within the last few years. They kept their heads down during the Dominion War and built up their forces. By all accounts, the attack on Yeilara II was well-planned and they have landed a substantial number of troops.”
“I wonder who could have been supplying them with their weapons upgrades”
“Starfleet Intelligence believes that it was acquired on the black market. The Talarians recently discovered a substantial vein of dilithium in their territory. Coupled with this, the last year or so has seen a substantial amount of Cardassian military equipment beginning to appear on certain arms dealers’ manifests. Most of the stuff that they used to take Yeilara was former Cardassian.”
Huntington sighed. “Well, that was inevitable. So inevitable that we should have anticipated it. So what is Starfleet going to do?”
“They have signed a treaty with the Talarians, ceding the Yeilara system to them in exchange for the return of three thousand colonists and an agreement that the Talarians won’t expand any further.”
“Damn it!, of course they will,” said Masafumi, angrily. “Yeilara’s only real value is as a staging area. It’s strategically placed close to three other Federation colonies, Tylus, Adrianis, and Archer IV.”
“You sound like you know that area well,” said Huntington.
“My son and ex-wife live on Adrianis,” he replied simply.
“Look, Starfleet was caught flat footed in this instance but it’s putting ships on a high level of alert now. The Carpathia, the Akira, and the Odessa have all been ordered into that region. If the Talarians try to make a move against any other colony, we’ll be more than ready for them. In addition, ships have been ordered to the Romulan and Tzenkethi borders. And to the Bajoran system, in case, anyone else sees this as a good time to attack.”
“Which begs the questions, who are we expecting to attack Sector 29004?,” asked Huntington.
“Well, anticipated, Commander, but it’s just outside the sector actually. Starfleet Intelligence believes that the Throndrix are casting envious glances at the planet Kargenta as a potential new home world.”
“The Throndrix?,” asked Masafumi. “I think I’ve heard the name but I don’t believe that I know much about them.”
“I did a little bit of research when I was assigned to the Testudo,” said Huntington. “The Throndrix was one of the races that I got tactical information about. They’re a nomadic race that abandoned their home planet about two hundred years ago. Since then, they’ve developed a pattern where they spend a few years traveling, then descend on a planet and colonize it. They never stay more than fifty years and they usually end up strip-mining the planet bare. For the most part, they target uninhabited worlds but their last target was, I believe, Treblanix?” Cardonez nodded. “A planet with a preindustrial society that exists outside of Federation space.”
“They apparently left Treblanix seven months ago. Starfleet Intelligence was lax with providing us with that information, especially as they operate on our doorstep,” said Cardonez.
“Do we have a colony on Kargenta?,” asked Masafumi.
“Yes, but only a small one. It’s less than two hundred people but it’s Federation territory.”
“So we’re to warn them off?”
“Exactly. Which means unless Starfleet Intelligence has really lost the plot, it should be relatively simple. They aren’t exactly the Romulans.”
“I would have said the same about the Talarians before today,” Masafumi said, ominously.
“Don’t worry. The Throndrix are way behind us technologically and they have no great desire to improve from what I can gather,” said Huntington. “By all accounts, they’re still using the warp technology that they had when they abandoned their home planet. Warp Three is about as fast as they can travel.”
“It’s a religious thing,” said Cardonez. “Apparently, they world was suffering from environmental collapse when one of their ‘Gods’ descended from Heaven and provided them with warp technology. He told them to search out for a new home and they have been ever since. I think they find the idea of advanced technology to be blasphemous.”
“So we’re going to intercept them before we get to Kargenta and warn them away?”
“Exactly.”
“When do we leave?,” asked Masafumi.
“Within the next hour or so.”
“Captain, I’d like to take that time to conduct another few tests on the surface. Lieutenant Tennyson and myself have expended considerable time and energy, customizing one of our shuttlecraft. It would be a shame to waste the effort.”
“Is this the sonar?,” asked Cardonez.
“Yes. We’ve outfitted a Type-II shuttle with a workable sonar system. As you know, the selenite within the clouds precludes us being able to use conventional sensors. By using old-style sonar, we will be able to get a better picture of what it’s like beneath the surface.”
“We will be coming back, you know,” replied Isabel.
Masafumi smiled. “I know that,” he conceded,” but the shuttle is prepped for a flight and if we have a test run now, it will give us time on the voyage to iron out any flaws that we discover in the system.”
Cardonez smiled. “Okay, logical argument. Take a short flight but be back here in an hour or we’ll leave here without you.”
Masafumi laughed before standing up. “I’m already on my way. I’m glad that I didn’t change out of my suit!”
Yes, you are busy!! I'm going to stop at the end of Episode 6. Really liking the way this one wrapped - very unexpected but, to borrow a phrase, quite logical. Also really liking the way the relationship between Cardonez and Masafumi has developed.
I understand about being on fire. I've been averaging writing a scene a day for my Star Beagle Adventures series currently on the new Ad Astra site. After Star Trek Hunter finishes its run here, I'll start migrating SBA across.
I'll be back to look at the beginning of Ep. 7 later - great work with #6! Thanks!! rbs
I understand about being on fire. I've been averaging writing a scene a day for my Star Beagle Adventures series currently on the new Ad Astra site. After Star Trek Hunter finishes its run here, I'll start migrating SBA across.
I'll be back to look at the beginning of Ep. 7 later - great work with #6! Thanks!! rbs
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