Star Trek: Into the Void
Episode 09 - ‘Difficult Mission’
By Jack D. Elmlinger
Prologue
When Commander Yashiro Masafumi entered the Conference Lounge, the heads of everyone turned towards him. “Good day, everyone. Thank you for coming,” he said as he sat down at the head of the table.
He looked in turn at the five people seated around the ovoid conference table. On his immediate left side was Lieutenant Commander Adam Huntington, the ship’s Tactical Officer and Chief of Security. Aside from Masafumi, he was the only other person in the room who knew what was happening.
Next to Huntington was the Betazoid Operations Officer, Lieutenant Valian Kandro. Beside him sat Doctor Hollem Azahn, the ship’s Bajoran Chief Medical Officer. On the First Officer’s immediate right side was Lieutenant Junior Grade Louise Ramblin. She had been part of the Testudo’s Engineering Department but now she was the relief Operations Officer. Sitting next to her was Lieutenant Junior Grade Paul Carson. He was a well-built black Security Officer who was in his mid-fifties with short iron-gray hair. He had appeared to be incredibly intimidating the first time that the Commander had met him. Shortly after spending time with him, he had learned that Carson was a big softy at heart.
He was a rarity.
A man who had enlisted in Starfleet as an Ordinary Crewman and worked his way up to Chief Petty Officer before he had been given a field promotion to Ensign during the early days of the war. That commission had been made permanent shortly afterwards and he had recent;y been promoted again. He had been aboard Testudo for just a few weeks as Huntington’s new deputy.
The five officers were looking at him, expectantly. There was evident confusion on all of their faces, except for Huntington, of course. “Well, I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here today,” the Commander began with a weak smile. It was intended to break the ice but he knew as soon as he had said it that it would come off as patronizing. Captain Cardonez would have done it so much better, he mused, and for the millionth time in the last four months, he reflected that the crew of the Testudo had much more innate respect for the laidback Captain than for their uptight First Officer.
Well, if this doesn’t work, they may have to get used to me being in command, he ruminated, surprising himself with the clinical assessment.
He would have guessed that Lieutenant Kandro would have made a smartass response but in fact, it was Lieutenant Ramblin. In truth, he wasn’t too surprised. She had been the second on his list.
“Yes, I think we are. Especially since some of us were off-duty at the time,” she said with a more than sarcastic tone.
“Sorry.”
“I assume that this has something to do with the Captain?,” asked the Betazoid.
“You’re correct. How did you know?”
“Come on, Commander. One minute, we’re in orbit of Lekree. Next, we’re hightailing it away. Then you and Commander Huntington spend an hour in the Captain’s Ready Room and she’s nowhere to be seen. Where is she?”
Masafumi looked over at Huntington. He got the message. “The Captain is on Lekree,” the cultured Englishman said.
“How?,” asked Doctor Hollem. “I didn’t think that we had any away teams scheduled.”
“We didn’t. Not officially anyway. What I’m about to tell you is classified information. It does not leave this room. Understood?”
They nodded.
“Very well. The Captain and Lieutenant Dayle are undertaking a covert mission to examine Lekreeian society.”
“Why is that classified?,” asked Ramblin. “And why did she take the ship’s counselor along with her?”
Masafumi and Huntington looked nervously at one another as if they were hoping that the other would be the one to speak. Finally Masafumi did. “We were under special orders from Starfleet Command to investigate Lekree for cultural contamination. I’ve just spoken with Admiral Gavin who has cleared me to tell you this.”
“He approved the plan?,” asked Huntington.
“Yes.”
“What plan?,” asked Carson.
“First things first, Lieutenant,” Huntington said. “Commander?”
“Very well. Since we arrived in Sector 29004, we have had long-range probes examining each star system, especially those that are inhabited. Several reports that we’ve received from Lekree were quite worrying. When the Wellington visited the planet twenty-six years ago, they reported a thriving culture that, although comparable to the early twentieth century in terms of technology, was too far advanced in its philosophy. Its inhabitants had known peace for generations and they had never suffered a global conflict. It was the belief of Captain Stanislav that they would develop warp drive within a hundred years and become potential Federation members.”
“Just a hunch,” said Ramblin,” but I’m guessing our probes detected a change.”
“Indeed,” said Masafumi. “The few fragments that we detected from the planet’s communications indicated something wildly different than what Stanislav reported. For a start, there were indications of several small-scale conflicts between different nations. The planet’s differing states were all part of a Global Union. However, some of those nations seem to have broken away. It’s them who are in conflict with the rest of the planet.”
“Do we know what they’re fighting about?,” asked Hollem.
Huntington leaned forward in his seat. “It appears to revolve around this man,” he said, activating the viewscreen mounted on the wall and a tall, gaunt Lekreesian appeared. He looked old. His skin was chalk-white and mottled with liver spots. He had no hair and he looked like nothing less than a walking skeleton. Like all Lekreesians, he looked Human with the exception of the typical Lekressian nose which was bulbous and ridged with an additional nostril pointing upwards between the eyes.
“This is Coryphaeus Frinn. For the last twenty-five years, he had been the leader of the Global Union. He was an unimportant mayor but after a particular incident, that we’ll come back to shortly. He rose up to high office on the back of a paranoid and xenophobic new attitude amongst the Lekreesians. Those few nations that have broken away from the Global Union are more open and democratic.”
“So you’re implying that the Lekreesian changed a few decades ago, and I assume that the Captain is investigating for cultural contamination that the Federation could be responsible?,” asked Kandro.
“Correct,” said Masafumi. “Twenty-six years ago, the population of Lekree were shocked by the publication of a single image. Commander?”
Huntington tapped in another command and the face of Frinn was replaced by a grainy black-and-white image. “Ladies and gentlemen, the catalyst for Leeressian paranoia is proof of extraterrestrials.” The image was of a young dark-skinned Vulcan. His pointed ears were made more prominent by his close-cropped hair. He was clad in an old-style Starfleet uniform and he was walking near a copse of trees. Although he was standing straight at the camera, there was no sign of recognition on his face.
“Oops,” said Ramblin.
“‘Oops’ is putting it mildly, Lieutenant,” the Security Chief said. “Not only did this image provide proof of alien lien but it also suggested that they might be hostile. After all, they were skulking around the countryside, rather than walking up to the Powers-That-Be and say hello.”
“Who was he?,” asked the relief Operations officer.
“A member of the Wellington’s crew, an Ensign Rylek,” Huntington said. “It was hardly his fault. What was Stanislav doing, sending away teams down to the surface is anyone’s guess.”
“We sent four covert missions to the surface. Only the Captain, Commander Huntington, Lieutenant Dayle and myself were involved. On the fourth trip down there, the Captain and Mister Dayle were captured. As near as we can tell from monitoring their communications, there was an accident and someone spotted the Captain’s ears. Needless to say, the planet is in an uproar now.”
“So we go in and rescue her… them… Right?”
“It isn’t that simple, Lieutenant Kandro. Any action that we take is only going to exacerbate the damage done to the planet’s culture.”
“So we sit here and let them be killed or dissected or whatever the Lekreessians have planned?,” the Betazoid asked, his anger rising as he half-stood from his seat.
“Sit down, Valian!,” Masafumi said forcefully. He was slightly surprised when he did. “Under normal conditions, we would call for a Horizon team to try and clear up this mess.”
“Horizon team?” The Bajoran doctor looked confused.
“It’s not something that gets used very often. They are specially-trained individuals who try to solve crises like these. They’re named after the USS Horizon that was responsible for causing profound damage on the population of Sigma Iotia II. So much damage that Captain James T. Kirk was forced to take…” Masafumi paused for a moment, weighing up the best way to say it. “Unconventional means in order to try and repair the harm done.”
“Unconventional is one way of putting it,” Huntington said, smiling.
“The point is that thirty or so years ago, Starfleet set up these special teams to act in similar situations. If the Captain hadn’t been captured, we would have likely reported our findings and left them to it… but…”
“But the nearest Horizon team is over forty lightyears away. They’re on their way but they won’t be here for a week,” added Huntington,” and we’ve seen a planet-wide communication from Frinn, stating that the aliens will be executed in two days.”
“Can’t we just beam them aboard?,” Hollem asked, stating the obvious.
“That would do more harm than good,” Masafumi said. “Presently, Frinn has the populace whipped up into a frenzy and if those two ‘aliens’ were to suddenly vanish, it will only add to the planet’s paranoia.”
“What are we going to do then, sir?,” asked Carson.
“In the absence of a Horizon team, Commander Huntington has put one together. Congratulations.”
“Me? I mean us?,” said Ramblin.
“I don’t have time to check through the whole ship for candidates. I need officers that I already know. The four of you sprang to mind,” Huntington told them. “You have the option to refuse and no one will think any less of you if you do.”
The four officers remained seated. They looked nervously at each other and the Security Chief knew that if one of them said no, they would likely all follow. Fortunately, the herd instinct was at work in his favor because no one had the nerve to say no. All of them remained silent.
“Excellent. I assume that you’re all in, then?”
“In on what exactly?,” asked Kandro.
“Our mission is twofold. First, we have to rescue Captain Cardonez and Lieutenant Dayle in such a way that we don’t damage Lekreesian society any further. Second, we have to convince them that they have been wrong these last twenty-six years and that, in fact, aliens do not exist. Thereby, robbing Frinn of his hold over the planet and hopefully restoring it to something like its former self.”
“What?!,” Hollem balked at them. “You’re talking about deposing a planet’s government! That can’t be right! The Prime Directive – “
“Does not apply in this instance,” Masafumi cut in the middle of the Bajoran’s tantrum. “The only reason that Frinn is in power is because the Federation made an error, a quarter of a century ago.”
“Shouldn’t we do more harm than good?,” asked Kandro.
“Perhaps but every indication is that Lekree will boil over into global war soon,” said Huntington. “The paranoia has them looking over their shoulders and distrusting each other.”
“So what are we going to do?,” asked Ramblin.
Huntington hit another command and another picture appeared on the screen. It was of a younger, portly Lekreesian, his hair was wild and red. “This is Master Dau Reeve. He is the Head of Security for the Global Union. He’s also a staunch supporter of Frinn and incredibly paranoid. We’re going to convince Reeve that Frinn fabricated the whole alien conspiracy, twenty-six years ago. We’re going to retrieve the Captain and Lieutenant Dayle, giving Reeve the distinct impression that they never existed in the first place.”
“Hasn’t he seen them?,” asked Hollem.
“No,” Huntington said, bringing up another picture. This time, it was of an imposing fortress. Its brown walls reached several stories into the sky. What windows that were visible were little more than tiny slits, glowing dimly. Large metal doors stood at the base of the structure. “This is Glakow Prison where our officers are being held. Our people are being held in maximum security on the top floor. Frinn is so paranoid that he has only let his bodyguards and his personal medical staff have access to them. Although he has promised to show them to Reeve before they die. They have been paraded on camera but very few people have seen them in person.”
“That paranoia will work to our advantage,” said Masafumi. “From what we can tell, Reeve is actually a patriot who believes that he’s doing what’s best for his people. If we can persuade him, it should lead to Frinn’s downfall.”
“Glakow Prison is protected by a primitive electromagnetic field that is designed to prevent electronic surveillance. We can scan through it easily but it had the unfortunate side-effect of preventing us from getting a firm transporter lock. So we’ll have to smuggle pattern enhancers in so Testudo can beam us out.”
“When do we go?,” asked Carson.
“I’ll brief you fully in five hours. I recommend that you get some rest. The next twenty-four hours are likely to be quite tiring. Are there any questions?”
Ramblin was smiling. “Why do I get the feeling that if we’re caught or killed, Starfleet will just disavow any knowledge of our existence?”
“Not at all,” Adam said with a wry grin on his face. “It just means that the real Horizon team will have its work cut out for them when it gets here.”
Episode 09 - ‘Difficult Mission’
By Jack D. Elmlinger
Prologue
When Commander Yashiro Masafumi entered the Conference Lounge, the heads of everyone turned towards him. “Good day, everyone. Thank you for coming,” he said as he sat down at the head of the table.
He looked in turn at the five people seated around the ovoid conference table. On his immediate left side was Lieutenant Commander Adam Huntington, the ship’s Tactical Officer and Chief of Security. Aside from Masafumi, he was the only other person in the room who knew what was happening.
Next to Huntington was the Betazoid Operations Officer, Lieutenant Valian Kandro. Beside him sat Doctor Hollem Azahn, the ship’s Bajoran Chief Medical Officer. On the First Officer’s immediate right side was Lieutenant Junior Grade Louise Ramblin. She had been part of the Testudo’s Engineering Department but now she was the relief Operations Officer. Sitting next to her was Lieutenant Junior Grade Paul Carson. He was a well-built black Security Officer who was in his mid-fifties with short iron-gray hair. He had appeared to be incredibly intimidating the first time that the Commander had met him. Shortly after spending time with him, he had learned that Carson was a big softy at heart.
He was a rarity.
A man who had enlisted in Starfleet as an Ordinary Crewman and worked his way up to Chief Petty Officer before he had been given a field promotion to Ensign during the early days of the war. That commission had been made permanent shortly afterwards and he had recent;y been promoted again. He had been aboard Testudo for just a few weeks as Huntington’s new deputy.
The five officers were looking at him, expectantly. There was evident confusion on all of their faces, except for Huntington, of course. “Well, I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here today,” the Commander began with a weak smile. It was intended to break the ice but he knew as soon as he had said it that it would come off as patronizing. Captain Cardonez would have done it so much better, he mused, and for the millionth time in the last four months, he reflected that the crew of the Testudo had much more innate respect for the laidback Captain than for their uptight First Officer.
Well, if this doesn’t work, they may have to get used to me being in command, he ruminated, surprising himself with the clinical assessment.
He would have guessed that Lieutenant Kandro would have made a smartass response but in fact, it was Lieutenant Ramblin. In truth, he wasn’t too surprised. She had been the second on his list.
“Yes, I think we are. Especially since some of us were off-duty at the time,” she said with a more than sarcastic tone.
“Sorry.”
“I assume that this has something to do with the Captain?,” asked the Betazoid.
“You’re correct. How did you know?”
“Come on, Commander. One minute, we’re in orbit of Lekree. Next, we’re hightailing it away. Then you and Commander Huntington spend an hour in the Captain’s Ready Room and she’s nowhere to be seen. Where is she?”
Masafumi looked over at Huntington. He got the message. “The Captain is on Lekree,” the cultured Englishman said.
“How?,” asked Doctor Hollem. “I didn’t think that we had any away teams scheduled.”
“We didn’t. Not officially anyway. What I’m about to tell you is classified information. It does not leave this room. Understood?”
They nodded.
“Very well. The Captain and Lieutenant Dayle are undertaking a covert mission to examine Lekreeian society.”
“Why is that classified?,” asked Ramblin. “And why did she take the ship’s counselor along with her?”
Masafumi and Huntington looked nervously at one another as if they were hoping that the other would be the one to speak. Finally Masafumi did. “We were under special orders from Starfleet Command to investigate Lekree for cultural contamination. I’ve just spoken with Admiral Gavin who has cleared me to tell you this.”
“He approved the plan?,” asked Huntington.
“Yes.”
“What plan?,” asked Carson.
“First things first, Lieutenant,” Huntington said. “Commander?”
“Very well. Since we arrived in Sector 29004, we have had long-range probes examining each star system, especially those that are inhabited. Several reports that we’ve received from Lekree were quite worrying. When the Wellington visited the planet twenty-six years ago, they reported a thriving culture that, although comparable to the early twentieth century in terms of technology, was too far advanced in its philosophy. Its inhabitants had known peace for generations and they had never suffered a global conflict. It was the belief of Captain Stanislav that they would develop warp drive within a hundred years and become potential Federation members.”
“Just a hunch,” said Ramblin,” but I’m guessing our probes detected a change.”
“Indeed,” said Masafumi. “The few fragments that we detected from the planet’s communications indicated something wildly different than what Stanislav reported. For a start, there were indications of several small-scale conflicts between different nations. The planet’s differing states were all part of a Global Union. However, some of those nations seem to have broken away. It’s them who are in conflict with the rest of the planet.”
“Do we know what they’re fighting about?,” asked Hollem.
Huntington leaned forward in his seat. “It appears to revolve around this man,” he said, activating the viewscreen mounted on the wall and a tall, gaunt Lekreesian appeared. He looked old. His skin was chalk-white and mottled with liver spots. He had no hair and he looked like nothing less than a walking skeleton. Like all Lekreesians, he looked Human with the exception of the typical Lekressian nose which was bulbous and ridged with an additional nostril pointing upwards between the eyes.
“This is Coryphaeus Frinn. For the last twenty-five years, he had been the leader of the Global Union. He was an unimportant mayor but after a particular incident, that we’ll come back to shortly. He rose up to high office on the back of a paranoid and xenophobic new attitude amongst the Lekreesians. Those few nations that have broken away from the Global Union are more open and democratic.”
“So you’re implying that the Lekreesian changed a few decades ago, and I assume that the Captain is investigating for cultural contamination that the Federation could be responsible?,” asked Kandro.
“Correct,” said Masafumi. “Twenty-six years ago, the population of Lekree were shocked by the publication of a single image. Commander?”
Huntington tapped in another command and the face of Frinn was replaced by a grainy black-and-white image. “Ladies and gentlemen, the catalyst for Leeressian paranoia is proof of extraterrestrials.” The image was of a young dark-skinned Vulcan. His pointed ears were made more prominent by his close-cropped hair. He was clad in an old-style Starfleet uniform and he was walking near a copse of trees. Although he was standing straight at the camera, there was no sign of recognition on his face.
“Oops,” said Ramblin.
“‘Oops’ is putting it mildly, Lieutenant,” the Security Chief said. “Not only did this image provide proof of alien lien but it also suggested that they might be hostile. After all, they were skulking around the countryside, rather than walking up to the Powers-That-Be and say hello.”
“Who was he?,” asked the relief Operations officer.
“A member of the Wellington’s crew, an Ensign Rylek,” Huntington said. “It was hardly his fault. What was Stanislav doing, sending away teams down to the surface is anyone’s guess.”
“We sent four covert missions to the surface. Only the Captain, Commander Huntington, Lieutenant Dayle and myself were involved. On the fourth trip down there, the Captain and Mister Dayle were captured. As near as we can tell from monitoring their communications, there was an accident and someone spotted the Captain’s ears. Needless to say, the planet is in an uproar now.”
“So we go in and rescue her… them… Right?”
“It isn’t that simple, Lieutenant Kandro. Any action that we take is only going to exacerbate the damage done to the planet’s culture.”
“So we sit here and let them be killed or dissected or whatever the Lekreessians have planned?,” the Betazoid asked, his anger rising as he half-stood from his seat.
“Sit down, Valian!,” Masafumi said forcefully. He was slightly surprised when he did. “Under normal conditions, we would call for a Horizon team to try and clear up this mess.”
“Horizon team?” The Bajoran doctor looked confused.
“It’s not something that gets used very often. They are specially-trained individuals who try to solve crises like these. They’re named after the USS Horizon that was responsible for causing profound damage on the population of Sigma Iotia II. So much damage that Captain James T. Kirk was forced to take…” Masafumi paused for a moment, weighing up the best way to say it. “Unconventional means in order to try and repair the harm done.”
“Unconventional is one way of putting it,” Huntington said, smiling.
“The point is that thirty or so years ago, Starfleet set up these special teams to act in similar situations. If the Captain hadn’t been captured, we would have likely reported our findings and left them to it… but…”
“But the nearest Horizon team is over forty lightyears away. They’re on their way but they won’t be here for a week,” added Huntington,” and we’ve seen a planet-wide communication from Frinn, stating that the aliens will be executed in two days.”
“Can’t we just beam them aboard?,” Hollem asked, stating the obvious.
“That would do more harm than good,” Masafumi said. “Presently, Frinn has the populace whipped up into a frenzy and if those two ‘aliens’ were to suddenly vanish, it will only add to the planet’s paranoia.”
“What are we going to do then, sir?,” asked Carson.
“In the absence of a Horizon team, Commander Huntington has put one together. Congratulations.”
“Me? I mean us?,” said Ramblin.
“I don’t have time to check through the whole ship for candidates. I need officers that I already know. The four of you sprang to mind,” Huntington told them. “You have the option to refuse and no one will think any less of you if you do.”
The four officers remained seated. They looked nervously at each other and the Security Chief knew that if one of them said no, they would likely all follow. Fortunately, the herd instinct was at work in his favor because no one had the nerve to say no. All of them remained silent.
“Excellent. I assume that you’re all in, then?”
“In on what exactly?,” asked Kandro.
“Our mission is twofold. First, we have to rescue Captain Cardonez and Lieutenant Dayle in such a way that we don’t damage Lekreesian society any further. Second, we have to convince them that they have been wrong these last twenty-six years and that, in fact, aliens do not exist. Thereby, robbing Frinn of his hold over the planet and hopefully restoring it to something like its former self.”
“What?!,” Hollem balked at them. “You’re talking about deposing a planet’s government! That can’t be right! The Prime Directive – “
“Does not apply in this instance,” Masafumi cut in the middle of the Bajoran’s tantrum. “The only reason that Frinn is in power is because the Federation made an error, a quarter of a century ago.”
“Shouldn’t we do more harm than good?,” asked Kandro.
“Perhaps but every indication is that Lekree will boil over into global war soon,” said Huntington. “The paranoia has them looking over their shoulders and distrusting each other.”
“So what are we going to do?,” asked Ramblin.
Huntington hit another command and another picture appeared on the screen. It was of a younger, portly Lekreesian, his hair was wild and red. “This is Master Dau Reeve. He is the Head of Security for the Global Union. He’s also a staunch supporter of Frinn and incredibly paranoid. We’re going to convince Reeve that Frinn fabricated the whole alien conspiracy, twenty-six years ago. We’re going to retrieve the Captain and Lieutenant Dayle, giving Reeve the distinct impression that they never existed in the first place.”
“Hasn’t he seen them?,” asked Hollem.
“No,” Huntington said, bringing up another picture. This time, it was of an imposing fortress. Its brown walls reached several stories into the sky. What windows that were visible were little more than tiny slits, glowing dimly. Large metal doors stood at the base of the structure. “This is Glakow Prison where our officers are being held. Our people are being held in maximum security on the top floor. Frinn is so paranoid that he has only let his bodyguards and his personal medical staff have access to them. Although he has promised to show them to Reeve before they die. They have been paraded on camera but very few people have seen them in person.”
“That paranoia will work to our advantage,” said Masafumi. “From what we can tell, Reeve is actually a patriot who believes that he’s doing what’s best for his people. If we can persuade him, it should lead to Frinn’s downfall.”
“Glakow Prison is protected by a primitive electromagnetic field that is designed to prevent electronic surveillance. We can scan through it easily but it had the unfortunate side-effect of preventing us from getting a firm transporter lock. So we’ll have to smuggle pattern enhancers in so Testudo can beam us out.”
“When do we go?,” asked Carson.
“I’ll brief you fully in five hours. I recommend that you get some rest. The next twenty-four hours are likely to be quite tiring. Are there any questions?”
Ramblin was smiling. “Why do I get the feeling that if we’re caught or killed, Starfleet will just disavow any knowledge of our existence?”
“Not at all,” Adam said with a wry grin on his face. “It just means that the real Horizon team will have its work cut out for them when it gets here.”
