"Ferengi Alliance for Sale! Slightly used! Great to a good home! It's the Empire of your dreams..." 
Do I hear bid for five strips of Gold-Pressed Latinum?
Do I hear bid for five strips of Gold-Pressed Latinum?
Star Trek: Into the Void - Season One
- Thread starter admiralelm11
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Chapter Two
The walk was relatively short and Isabel wondered if the entire villa was decorated in the same way with pure white walls everywhere as if they were accentuating the frozen surroundings of Relatrix. At the end of the corridor, there was a winding staircase that led downward. Following Sirni, she found herself descending into a large open space that seemed to be carved out of the ice itself and it was reminiscent of the first room that she had woken up in after being knocked out in her hotel room.
Unlike that bare chamber, this room was filled with furniture and objet d’art. Several large sofas, seemingly made out of black leather, were positioned to form a U-shape around a large coffee table. Several oaken bookcases lined the icy walls interwoven with bare space where ceiling-mounted lighting illuminated frozen scenes that were encased in the ice. A fake log fire illuminated the sofas and Offenhouse was sitting in one of them. Music was playing in the background.
“‘Paperback Writer’,” Cardonez said when she approached him.
Offenhouse looked up at her with a look of surprise in his eyes. “You know the Beatles?,” he asked her.
“May I sit?”
“Certainly,” he said and she sat down. He looked up at the Ferengi who were standing with uncertainty by the base of the stairs. “Gleg, Glag, I think that I’ll be safe in Captain Cardonez’s company. You’re dismissed.” The two Ferengi headed back up the stairs and Offenhouse turned back towards Isabel. She saw that he was wearing a dark blue suit which was quite a retro affair with a white and blue striped shirt and a deep blue tie beneath it. “Now then, where were we?”
“The Beatles.”
“Ah, yes. I’m a little surprised really. I have met too few people who appreciate the good old days. What’s your favorite song?”
“‘Hey Jude’, usually. Though ‘Eleanor Rigby’ means a lot to me too.”
“Ah,” he said. “You know I met Paul McCartney once.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right.”
He surprised her by laughing. “I’m sorry. I tend to drop things like that into the conversation without thinking. You don’t know who I am, do you? Why should you after all? I was born in the twentieth century.”
“Let me guess. You fell into a time vortex or a subspace anomaly and woke up here?,” she smiled sarcastically.
“Actually no,” said Offenhouse. “I died.” It wasn’t quite the answer that Cardonez was expecting. “Heart problems. Fortunately, I was quite a wealthy man. Wealthy enough to have invested in one of several highly classified cryogenics services that were available at the time.” He reached over and plucked up a crystal tumbler from the table. “Scotch. Can I offer you one?”
Isabel shook her head. “You were explaining your death.”
Offenhouse nodded and took a drink. Pausing only to replace the glass on the table, he continued. “I was cryogenically frozen and placed in an orbiting satellite along with quite a few other lucky souls. Then there was nothingness. When I was awakened, it felt like only an instant after my attack but, in fact, it was over three hundred and sixty years later. In the end, I was lucky. A starship named the Enterprise found our satellite in space and revived us. You can’t imagine how shocked I was to find myself here.”
“I can imagine. It was quite a violent age. It must have been refreshing to see mankind so unified. No poverty, no money, no — “
“Are you kidding?,” Offenhouse suddenly snapped. “I woke up to be informed by Picard that everything that men strived for centuries before didn’t matter. That money and power were worthless. Can you imagine how depressing that was for a self-made millionaire? A man who worked his way up from running a hot dog stand to heading up a multinational company?”
“I can see that it must have been disconcerting but surely the improvement of the Human condition – “
“Bullshit!,” Offenhouse swore. “Don’t pander to me the same sanctimonious crap that Picard did. What was I supposed to do? Spend my life reading? Work on a colony world just for the fun of it. In the first three months, I almost committed suicide. For a man who had gambled everything to survive death, that was a large concept to come to terms with but what choice did I have? I was an anachronism in a world of dull gray automatons!”
“The twenty-fourth century isn’t that boring,” Cardonez said with a smile.
“It was to me,” he said. “There’s no fun in listening to a piece of music or owning a work of art if you didn’t have to fight to possess it.” He calmed down slightly now. “When all seemed to be lost, I discovered a wonderful thing.” He smiled.
“The Ferengi.”
“Exactly. I came almost four centuries into the future, only to discover that I had more in common with a race of aliens than I did with my own kind.” He took another drink, draining the glass. “I traveled to Ferenginar with nothing but my drive and business knowledge. It took a while but finally, certain businessmen began to see how useful I could be. I started work as a simple salesman but in less than two years, I had amassed enough gold-pressed latinum and influence to start my own company.”
“And now you plan to purchase the Ferengi Alliance,” said Cardonez. “No offense intended but you can’t be that wealthy.”
“In a few days, I will be,” said Offenhouse. “Certain plans are coming to fruition. Plans that I would like to share with you.”
“Me?”
“Didn’t you wonder why you were still alive?”
“It had crossed my mind,” said Cardonez.
“A man in my position surrounds himself with useful people who share his vision. The downside to this is that often enough, those subordinates will tell you what you want to hear. I would like an objective opinion from you.”
“Then you kill me, right?”
Offenhouse laughed. “I’m not a murderer,” he said before adding cryptically. “Well, not directly anyway.”
“Okay. So tell me.”
Offenhouse stood up. “All good things…,” he began, walking away from her,” come to those who wait. I’m tired. Feel free to drink or read whatever. There are guards all around this villa. You can’t do any damage.”
Cardonez watched while the old man reached the base of the staircase before he turned to look at her. “Oh, there was one other point. I’ve received word from some associates of mine on Trixiet that a Starfleet officer might be on his way here. A man named Huntington. Have you heard of him?”
Cardonez stayed quiet.
“Very well then. Well, let’s just say that he’ll receive a very warm reception when he arrives here in this system.” He laughed.
Isabel had been coiled like a spring for too long. Grabbing the empty glass from the table, she smashed it on the table edge, creating a jagged weapon. Leaping to her feet, she ran at Offenhouse. The stun blast came from above and it was too late when she realized that the two Ferengi had been waiting out of sight near the top of the staircase.
Offenhouse walked over to the unconscious woman on the floor.
“We should kill her,” Glag said, walking up behind him.
“Yes, kill her,” Gleg agreed, joining his brother. “There is no profit in letting her live.”
Offenhouse smiled. “Oh, but there is,” he said. “Oh, but there is.”
****
It was at the same exact moment that Huntington brought the runabout out of warp, just a few million kilometers from Relatrix. He was sitting in the pilot’s seat but he was content to let the computer fly. A cup of tea was in his right hand while he held a PADD that listed all of Wall Street Enterprises’ holdings on Relatrix. Of which there were many and he had managed to narrow it down to three villas in the southern hemisphere.
“Warning. Vessel approaching.” suddenly said the computer.
“On screen,” he ordered.
He recognized the three ships that were currently on an intercept course immediately. There were Miradorn raiders. Small but powerful little ships that were often used by pirates and outlaws. He scanned the sensor readings and saw that all three ships had their shields up and weapons armed.
Huntington did the same before he took back helm control from the computer.
“Attention,” intoned the computer. “We are being hailed.”
“Patch it through.”
Suddenly the face of a Ferengi male appeared on the screen. He was fat, even by Ferengi standards and his orange jumpsuit strained to keep all of him in. “Commander Huntington, I presume?,” he asked.
“Me and my reputation,” Adam muttered.
“You will heave to and prepare to surrender,” said the Ferengi with a smug smile on his face.
Huntington seemed to consider this for a moment. “Hmmm… no,” he replied firmly before adding with a friendly grin. “However, I will totally understand if you wish to surrender to me.”
“What?!,” said the fat Ferengi. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Yes, it is. Here’s the punchline.” He hit a control in front of him. As fire soared forth from the forward rapid-fire phasers, the two ships on each wing peeled off. The pilot of the center ship hesitated over which way to turn and it caught the full brunt of the phaser barrage.
As he watched the energy crackle on the other ship’s forward shields, Huntington kicked in his impulse engines and aimed the bow of the runabout, dead center on the other ship. As the runabout shot ahead, its phasers were still blazing while the other two Miradorn ships completed elegant loops and fell into the small ship’s wake. They opened up with their disruptor cannons.
The flight deck around Adam shook violently. “Warning. Aft shields are at fifty percent,” said the computer. The warning was soon followed by,” Warning. Collision in five seconds”, as the ship before them grew large in the forward windows.
Huntington smiled and hauled back on the controls and the runabout jerked upwards. Or downwards or sideways. It depended on your perspective in space. The move was over so fast that it took several seconds for the weapons officers on the two pursuing ships to realize what he had done. In those few seconds, their disruptors continued to fire, striking the raider in front of them and finishing the job that he had started. The ship’s shields failed and the remainder of their weapons fire slammed through the hull, causing explosive decompression that shattered the ship into a million pieces.
“Oops,” Huntington said wryly when he deftly maneuvered the ship upside down over the two pursuers. “You should always watch where you’re aiming.”
For the crews of the remaining ships, the shock of killing their comrades lasted for only a moment before it was replaced by the shock of discovering that Huntington had completed a loop and he was now right behind them. He didn’t hesitate and pressed the firing control once more. This time, micro torpedoes soared from the twin launchers under the bow of the ship. The small torpedoes bounced off of the rear shields of the two ships in front of the runabout and in reply, he was soon shaken once more when disruptors fire erupted from the twin ships’ aft cannons.
“Warning. Forward shields are at thirty percent,” said the computer.
Adam frowned. “Don’t you ever give good news?”
“Unable to reply,” the computer answered his response. “Please be more specific.”
He was about to throw an insult at the computer when the ship shuddered again.
“Warning. Shields are at twenty percent.”
“Okay, enough is enough,” Huntington said and he opened up the throttle once more, thrusting the ship to full impulse. The two raiders saw him coming and, at the last moment, performed their prior trick of peeling away in opposite directions to let him pass, content to be behind him once more. As he shot between them, the two ships quickly swung back in again and began firing.
“Warning. Aft shields are at ten percent,” the computer said as the engineering console behind Huntington exploded in a shower of sparks.
He checked the range of the two ships before activating his aft phasers while also preparing to use the last weapons that were available to him. As the runabout bucked from side-to-side and phaser fire came out from its rear emitters, it was all that the two raiders could do to hit their target with every third shot. They had little time to spot the small spherical objects that tumbled from the rear of the runabout’s hull.
“Warning. Aft shields have failed,” the computer said when another blast struck the rear section and there was the sound of tearing metal behind them. “Hull breach in the aft cargo section.”
“Stop making everything sound so important!,” Huntington shouted through gritted teeth while he watched the aft tactical display and saw the two large blips catch up to the scattering of smaller blips in their path. A dozen small explosions lit up the space behind the runabout when both raiders ran straight into the photon mines that he had laid in their path. The mines weren’t overly destructive by themselves but they clustered together against the small, poorly-shielded ships that they were devastating.
“Phew,” Adam said, watching the explosion blossom and grow on the aft viewscreen. “I’m glad that’s over. Now, maybe we can get on with finding…” He didn’t finish his sentence as a single raider powered through the explosions behind him. He looked wistfully at the screen for a moment before sighing. “Ah, bollocks!”
“Unable to comply. Please restate the question.”
Huntington raised an eyebrow. “Why couldn’t they hit the computer core?,” he mused aloud and he was surprised when the computer chose to remain silent. Ignoring the computer, he focused back on the last remaining raider. Its shields were almost gone but then so were his. Its weapons were offline like his were. He had the lead but he knew that he couldn’t maintain it. Already the runabout’s power levels were draining. Quickly activating his scanners, he targeted them on the last raider and he nodded when the information scrolled across the monitor screen.
“Okay, then,” he said to himself,” there’s no time like the present.” He hauled the runabout around in a tight circle and headed straight at the other ship.
Setting the autopilot, Huntington leapt out of his seat just when a bright flare burst against the window. The other ship had reactivated its weapons and that flare had been the last gasp of the runabout’s forward shields. As the two ships hurtled towards each other, the Commander unholstered his phaser and walked unsteadily towards the transporter.
The two ships were only a few thousand meters apart when the nerve of the raider’s pilot broke and he began turning his craft away from collision. The runabout kept on moving in a straight line and it quickly shot past. Aboard the raider, the three Ferengi crewmembers breathed sighs of relief at having avoided their own destruction.
“Turn around and let’s finish him off!,” said the ship’s captain, a young skinny Ferengi whose skin hung loosely over his face as if he had recently lost a lot of weight. He was already calculating how much of their bounty for killing Huntington had gone up now that they only have to divide it among three people instead of nine.
“Knock, knock,” a sudden voice came from the rear section of their Bridge. Even as he turned around in his chair, the Captain knew that it was too late. He reached for his disruptor anyway.
Huntington stood nonchalantly, leaning against a wall and with a phaser pointed in their direction. His smile was the last thing that the Ferengi saw before a bright red flash … and then darkness.
Huntington immediately regretted the wide-angle stun blast that had incapacitated all three of the Ferengi. In truth, only the Captain had been going for his gun and he could have done with interrogating them. Still, he mused while he strode over to the helm controls that he hadn’t gotten this old and ugly by taking chances.
Holstering his weapon once more, he began pushing commands into the navigational computer and within seconds, the raider was heading away from Relatrix at half-impulse speed. Tapping his combadge, he said,” Huntington to runabout. Set an intercept course and beam me aboard once in range. Once I’m aboard, set a course for Relatrix at maximum impulse.” He surveyed the Bridge once more. The Ferengi would be out cold for the next half-hour. It was plenty of time to get a head start in searching for Patek.
Seconds later, the raider’s Bridge was emptier as the Starfleet commander disappeared in a haze of transporter energy.
The walk was relatively short and Isabel wondered if the entire villa was decorated in the same way with pure white walls everywhere as if they were accentuating the frozen surroundings of Relatrix. At the end of the corridor, there was a winding staircase that led downward. Following Sirni, she found herself descending into a large open space that seemed to be carved out of the ice itself and it was reminiscent of the first room that she had woken up in after being knocked out in her hotel room.
Unlike that bare chamber, this room was filled with furniture and objet d’art. Several large sofas, seemingly made out of black leather, were positioned to form a U-shape around a large coffee table. Several oaken bookcases lined the icy walls interwoven with bare space where ceiling-mounted lighting illuminated frozen scenes that were encased in the ice. A fake log fire illuminated the sofas and Offenhouse was sitting in one of them. Music was playing in the background.
“‘Paperback Writer’,” Cardonez said when she approached him.
Offenhouse looked up at her with a look of surprise in his eyes. “You know the Beatles?,” he asked her.
“May I sit?”
“Certainly,” he said and she sat down. He looked up at the Ferengi who were standing with uncertainty by the base of the stairs. “Gleg, Glag, I think that I’ll be safe in Captain Cardonez’s company. You’re dismissed.” The two Ferengi headed back up the stairs and Offenhouse turned back towards Isabel. She saw that he was wearing a dark blue suit which was quite a retro affair with a white and blue striped shirt and a deep blue tie beneath it. “Now then, where were we?”
“The Beatles.”
“Ah, yes. I’m a little surprised really. I have met too few people who appreciate the good old days. What’s your favorite song?”
“‘Hey Jude’, usually. Though ‘Eleanor Rigby’ means a lot to me too.”
“Ah,” he said. “You know I met Paul McCartney once.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right.”
He surprised her by laughing. “I’m sorry. I tend to drop things like that into the conversation without thinking. You don’t know who I am, do you? Why should you after all? I was born in the twentieth century.”
“Let me guess. You fell into a time vortex or a subspace anomaly and woke up here?,” she smiled sarcastically.
“Actually no,” said Offenhouse. “I died.” It wasn’t quite the answer that Cardonez was expecting. “Heart problems. Fortunately, I was quite a wealthy man. Wealthy enough to have invested in one of several highly classified cryogenics services that were available at the time.” He reached over and plucked up a crystal tumbler from the table. “Scotch. Can I offer you one?”
Isabel shook her head. “You were explaining your death.”
Offenhouse nodded and took a drink. Pausing only to replace the glass on the table, he continued. “I was cryogenically frozen and placed in an orbiting satellite along with quite a few other lucky souls. Then there was nothingness. When I was awakened, it felt like only an instant after my attack but, in fact, it was over three hundred and sixty years later. In the end, I was lucky. A starship named the Enterprise found our satellite in space and revived us. You can’t imagine how shocked I was to find myself here.”
“I can imagine. It was quite a violent age. It must have been refreshing to see mankind so unified. No poverty, no money, no — “
“Are you kidding?,” Offenhouse suddenly snapped. “I woke up to be informed by Picard that everything that men strived for centuries before didn’t matter. That money and power were worthless. Can you imagine how depressing that was for a self-made millionaire? A man who worked his way up from running a hot dog stand to heading up a multinational company?”
“I can see that it must have been disconcerting but surely the improvement of the Human condition – “
“Bullshit!,” Offenhouse swore. “Don’t pander to me the same sanctimonious crap that Picard did. What was I supposed to do? Spend my life reading? Work on a colony world just for the fun of it. In the first three months, I almost committed suicide. For a man who had gambled everything to survive death, that was a large concept to come to terms with but what choice did I have? I was an anachronism in a world of dull gray automatons!”
“The twenty-fourth century isn’t that boring,” Cardonez said with a smile.
“It was to me,” he said. “There’s no fun in listening to a piece of music or owning a work of art if you didn’t have to fight to possess it.” He calmed down slightly now. “When all seemed to be lost, I discovered a wonderful thing.” He smiled.
“The Ferengi.”
“Exactly. I came almost four centuries into the future, only to discover that I had more in common with a race of aliens than I did with my own kind.” He took another drink, draining the glass. “I traveled to Ferenginar with nothing but my drive and business knowledge. It took a while but finally, certain businessmen began to see how useful I could be. I started work as a simple salesman but in less than two years, I had amassed enough gold-pressed latinum and influence to start my own company.”
“And now you plan to purchase the Ferengi Alliance,” said Cardonez. “No offense intended but you can’t be that wealthy.”
“In a few days, I will be,” said Offenhouse. “Certain plans are coming to fruition. Plans that I would like to share with you.”
“Me?”
“Didn’t you wonder why you were still alive?”
“It had crossed my mind,” said Cardonez.
“A man in my position surrounds himself with useful people who share his vision. The downside to this is that often enough, those subordinates will tell you what you want to hear. I would like an objective opinion from you.”
“Then you kill me, right?”
Offenhouse laughed. “I’m not a murderer,” he said before adding cryptically. “Well, not directly anyway.”
“Okay. So tell me.”
Offenhouse stood up. “All good things…,” he began, walking away from her,” come to those who wait. I’m tired. Feel free to drink or read whatever. There are guards all around this villa. You can’t do any damage.”
Cardonez watched while the old man reached the base of the staircase before he turned to look at her. “Oh, there was one other point. I’ve received word from some associates of mine on Trixiet that a Starfleet officer might be on his way here. A man named Huntington. Have you heard of him?”
Cardonez stayed quiet.
“Very well then. Well, let’s just say that he’ll receive a very warm reception when he arrives here in this system.” He laughed.
Isabel had been coiled like a spring for too long. Grabbing the empty glass from the table, she smashed it on the table edge, creating a jagged weapon. Leaping to her feet, she ran at Offenhouse. The stun blast came from above and it was too late when she realized that the two Ferengi had been waiting out of sight near the top of the staircase.
Offenhouse walked over to the unconscious woman on the floor.
“We should kill her,” Glag said, walking up behind him.
“Yes, kill her,” Gleg agreed, joining his brother. “There is no profit in letting her live.”
Offenhouse smiled. “Oh, but there is,” he said. “Oh, but there is.”
****
It was at the same exact moment that Huntington brought the runabout out of warp, just a few million kilometers from Relatrix. He was sitting in the pilot’s seat but he was content to let the computer fly. A cup of tea was in his right hand while he held a PADD that listed all of Wall Street Enterprises’ holdings on Relatrix. Of which there were many and he had managed to narrow it down to three villas in the southern hemisphere.
“Warning. Vessel approaching.” suddenly said the computer.
“On screen,” he ordered.
He recognized the three ships that were currently on an intercept course immediately. There were Miradorn raiders. Small but powerful little ships that were often used by pirates and outlaws. He scanned the sensor readings and saw that all three ships had their shields up and weapons armed.
Huntington did the same before he took back helm control from the computer.
“Attention,” intoned the computer. “We are being hailed.”
“Patch it through.”
Suddenly the face of a Ferengi male appeared on the screen. He was fat, even by Ferengi standards and his orange jumpsuit strained to keep all of him in. “Commander Huntington, I presume?,” he asked.
“Me and my reputation,” Adam muttered.
“You will heave to and prepare to surrender,” said the Ferengi with a smug smile on his face.
Huntington seemed to consider this for a moment. “Hmmm… no,” he replied firmly before adding with a friendly grin. “However, I will totally understand if you wish to surrender to me.”
“What?!,” said the fat Ferengi. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Yes, it is. Here’s the punchline.” He hit a control in front of him. As fire soared forth from the forward rapid-fire phasers, the two ships on each wing peeled off. The pilot of the center ship hesitated over which way to turn and it caught the full brunt of the phaser barrage.
As he watched the energy crackle on the other ship’s forward shields, Huntington kicked in his impulse engines and aimed the bow of the runabout, dead center on the other ship. As the runabout shot ahead, its phasers were still blazing while the other two Miradorn ships completed elegant loops and fell into the small ship’s wake. They opened up with their disruptor cannons.
The flight deck around Adam shook violently. “Warning. Aft shields are at fifty percent,” said the computer. The warning was soon followed by,” Warning. Collision in five seconds”, as the ship before them grew large in the forward windows.
Huntington smiled and hauled back on the controls and the runabout jerked upwards. Or downwards or sideways. It depended on your perspective in space. The move was over so fast that it took several seconds for the weapons officers on the two pursuing ships to realize what he had done. In those few seconds, their disruptors continued to fire, striking the raider in front of them and finishing the job that he had started. The ship’s shields failed and the remainder of their weapons fire slammed through the hull, causing explosive decompression that shattered the ship into a million pieces.
“Oops,” Huntington said wryly when he deftly maneuvered the ship upside down over the two pursuers. “You should always watch where you’re aiming.”
For the crews of the remaining ships, the shock of killing their comrades lasted for only a moment before it was replaced by the shock of discovering that Huntington had completed a loop and he was now right behind them. He didn’t hesitate and pressed the firing control once more. This time, micro torpedoes soared from the twin launchers under the bow of the ship. The small torpedoes bounced off of the rear shields of the two ships in front of the runabout and in reply, he was soon shaken once more when disruptors fire erupted from the twin ships’ aft cannons.
“Warning. Forward shields are at thirty percent,” said the computer.
Adam frowned. “Don’t you ever give good news?”
“Unable to reply,” the computer answered his response. “Please be more specific.”
He was about to throw an insult at the computer when the ship shuddered again.
“Warning. Shields are at twenty percent.”
“Okay, enough is enough,” Huntington said and he opened up the throttle once more, thrusting the ship to full impulse. The two raiders saw him coming and, at the last moment, performed their prior trick of peeling away in opposite directions to let him pass, content to be behind him once more. As he shot between them, the two ships quickly swung back in again and began firing.
“Warning. Aft shields are at ten percent,” the computer said as the engineering console behind Huntington exploded in a shower of sparks.
He checked the range of the two ships before activating his aft phasers while also preparing to use the last weapons that were available to him. As the runabout bucked from side-to-side and phaser fire came out from its rear emitters, it was all that the two raiders could do to hit their target with every third shot. They had little time to spot the small spherical objects that tumbled from the rear of the runabout’s hull.
“Warning. Aft shields have failed,” the computer said when another blast struck the rear section and there was the sound of tearing metal behind them. “Hull breach in the aft cargo section.”
“Stop making everything sound so important!,” Huntington shouted through gritted teeth while he watched the aft tactical display and saw the two large blips catch up to the scattering of smaller blips in their path. A dozen small explosions lit up the space behind the runabout when both raiders ran straight into the photon mines that he had laid in their path. The mines weren’t overly destructive by themselves but they clustered together against the small, poorly-shielded ships that they were devastating.
“Phew,” Adam said, watching the explosion blossom and grow on the aft viewscreen. “I’m glad that’s over. Now, maybe we can get on with finding…” He didn’t finish his sentence as a single raider powered through the explosions behind him. He looked wistfully at the screen for a moment before sighing. “Ah, bollocks!”
“Unable to comply. Please restate the question.”
Huntington raised an eyebrow. “Why couldn’t they hit the computer core?,” he mused aloud and he was surprised when the computer chose to remain silent. Ignoring the computer, he focused back on the last remaining raider. Its shields were almost gone but then so were his. Its weapons were offline like his were. He had the lead but he knew that he couldn’t maintain it. Already the runabout’s power levels were draining. Quickly activating his scanners, he targeted them on the last raider and he nodded when the information scrolled across the monitor screen.
“Okay, then,” he said to himself,” there’s no time like the present.” He hauled the runabout around in a tight circle and headed straight at the other ship.
Setting the autopilot, Huntington leapt out of his seat just when a bright flare burst against the window. The other ship had reactivated its weapons and that flare had been the last gasp of the runabout’s forward shields. As the two ships hurtled towards each other, the Commander unholstered his phaser and walked unsteadily towards the transporter.
The two ships were only a few thousand meters apart when the nerve of the raider’s pilot broke and he began turning his craft away from collision. The runabout kept on moving in a straight line and it quickly shot past. Aboard the raider, the three Ferengi crewmembers breathed sighs of relief at having avoided their own destruction.
“Turn around and let’s finish him off!,” said the ship’s captain, a young skinny Ferengi whose skin hung loosely over his face as if he had recently lost a lot of weight. He was already calculating how much of their bounty for killing Huntington had gone up now that they only have to divide it among three people instead of nine.
“Knock, knock,” a sudden voice came from the rear section of their Bridge. Even as he turned around in his chair, the Captain knew that it was too late. He reached for his disruptor anyway.
Huntington stood nonchalantly, leaning against a wall and with a phaser pointed in their direction. His smile was the last thing that the Ferengi saw before a bright red flash … and then darkness.
Huntington immediately regretted the wide-angle stun blast that had incapacitated all three of the Ferengi. In truth, only the Captain had been going for his gun and he could have done with interrogating them. Still, he mused while he strode over to the helm controls that he hadn’t gotten this old and ugly by taking chances.
Holstering his weapon once more, he began pushing commands into the navigational computer and within seconds, the raider was heading away from Relatrix at half-impulse speed. Tapping his combadge, he said,” Huntington to runabout. Set an intercept course and beam me aboard once in range. Once I’m aboard, set a course for Relatrix at maximum impulse.” He surveyed the Bridge once more. The Ferengi would be out cold for the next half-hour. It was plenty of time to get a head start in searching for Patek.
Seconds later, the raider’s Bridge was emptier as the Starfleet commander disappeared in a haze of transporter energy.
A ferengi female wearing clothes? Doesn't work for a ferengi... And the guards are sufficiently well paid to not grumble about it - publicly.
Fun decryption sequence. And a great little fight in orbit - great tactics.
Thanks!! rbs
Fun decryption sequence. And a great little fight in orbit - great tactics.
Thanks!! rbs
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Chapter Three
“Good luck, Commander, and good hunting,” said the voice of the man who identified himself as James Tyrell.
“Why do we keep listening to that?,” asked Valian Kandro.
Yashiro Masafumi sank down low into his seat. They were grouped around the conference table and, after finally cracking the audio track, they had listened to the message five times in a row. “Because we might have missed something, Mister Kandro,” he said.
“Like what? The bit where Tyrell tells us exactly where Huntington and Cardonez are,” Louise Ramblin said before adding,” I must have missed it. All of that work for nothing.”
Masafumi let her insubordination slide. All of them had been awake for far too long in the last few days and they were all irritable.
“So we have a man who runs a company that owns three planets outright and fifty other enterprises on a dozen other worlds,” Zia Kehen said before adding,” It’s a start.” She was trying to inject some hope into the proceedings.
Masafumi shook his head. “We could never hope to check all of them and we have no way of knowing where the trail led after Cardonez left Trixiet.”
“What about this Tyrell character?,” asked Kandro.
“No good,” Masafumi said. “There are three James Tyrells in Starfleet. All of them are under thirty and none of them are above the rank of Lieutenant.”
“Then it’s over,” said Ramblin. “We might as well go find the Chikuma and give up on finding our people.”
“I hate to agree with our Chief Engineer,” said Kandro. “Really, I do, but I think Lulu is right.”
Ramblin glared at the Betazoid. “I told you never to call me that again.”
“Sue me,” said Kandro while Kehen stifled a giggle.
“People, please calm down,” said Masafumi. “I don’t want to give up just yet either but we have to face facts. We have no idea where Captain Cardonez is and consequently no idea where Huntington is. Our last sighting was Trixiet and that was as far as the message told us anyway. Unless anyone has any further suggestions, I’m going to present what I know to Admiral Gavin and let Starfleet Intelligence take it from here.”
“So that’s it then?,” asked Zia.
“As I said, unless there are any other suggestions, yes, we give up.”
“I know where she is,” said the only other occupant in the room. It was the first time that Doctor Hollem Azahn had spoken in an hour. The gangly Bajoran with the ruffled black hair that refused to stay tidy and a bushy beard to match was sitting at the end of the table, looking down at a sketchbook into which he continued to draw.
“Doctor, joining the discussion at last, I see,” said Masafumi. “We could have used your help earlier.”
“No, you couldn’t,” he said, putting the book down and finally looking up. “It’s a puzzle and the longer that you stare at it, the more complicated it can appear. Someone had to stay objective long enough to figure out the obvious. I decided that it should be me.”
“The obvious?,” asked Kandro.
“Yes,” said the doctor. “Haven’t you ever had a problem that you just couldn’t figure out after hours of work that you went back to it the next day and spotted the solution to it right away?”
“Yes,” said Ramblin,” we all get the analogy, Doctor. So tell us?”
“Tell you what?,” Hollem asked with a sudden note of confusion before he remembered what he had been talking about. “Oh, where Cardonez and Huntington are.” Reaching down to the console on the table in front of him, he accessed the main computer. “Computer, access the passenger manifests of all ships leaving the planet Trixiet in the last month. Find a match with the name Isabel Cardonez.”
After a moment, the computer said,” No match.”
“Well, that would have been too easy,” he said. “What was her mother’s name?”
“Tessel,” said Masafumi.
Hollem repeated his last question, substituting Tessel for Isabel Cardonez.
“No match found.”
“This could take a while,” said Louise. “There must be a hundred aliases that she could be using and not necessarily one that has any meaning to us.”
“Nice try, Doc,” said Kehen.
Hollem looked sullen and defeated. “I was sure…,” he began to say.
“Lieutenant Kehen is correct,” Masafumi interrupted him. “It was a noble effort but – “
“Wait!,” shouted Kandro, interrupting the Captain. “One last try. Computer, run another search on the passenger manifests leaving Trixiet in the last month but this time, look for the name Elizabeth Tennyson.”
There was a perceptible pause while the computer worked and Kehen found that she was holding her breath.
“Match found,” said the computer. “Elizabeth Tennyson boarded the Andorian passenger liner Lokune on Stardate 55367.4.”
“Destination?,” asked Masafumi.
“Destination was for the planet Relatrix.”
Masafumi grabbed one of several PADDs on the table in front of him. “Relatrix! Yes! Patek owns the whole damned planet.” Without a moment of hesitation, he tapped his combadge. “Masafumi to Bridge.”
“Lieutenant Carson here, sir,” came the reply.
“Lieutenant, we have a lead. Lay in a course for the planet Relatrix and get us moving at maximum warp.” He stood now and addressed his officers. “All of you have done fantastic work. If this was a few hundred years ago, you would all be getting a pay raise for this.” That elicited a few laughs. “As it is though, I can’t even give you a mention in our dispatches because what we’re doing isn’t exactly kosher. I just wanted you to know that I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Ramblin said and the others nodded,” but I think that I speak for all of us that finding Captain Cardonez and Commander Huntington will be all of the thanks that we need.”
Outside the windows, the stars, that had been stationary moments before, suddenly went into streaks of light when the Testudo surged forward to warp.
****
Cardonez was conscious again and sitting in one of the far too comfortable sofas. However, this time, Offenhouse wasn’t taking any chances. Her wrists were shackled and a Ferengi guard in an ubiquitous orange jumpsuit was standing behind her with a disruptor leveled with the back of her head. The two squat Ferengi brothers stood off to one side as well and Ralph was having an animated conversation with a young Ferengi on a viewscreen that hung above the fake fire.
“What do you mean he escaped?!,” he snapped. “You have three ships!”
“I’m… I’m sorry, sir,” the young captain replied. “He had a superior ship of the likes of which we had never encountered before. He destroyed two of our ships before we realized what was going on. “
“And yet you survived?,” asked Offenhouse with evident distaste in his voice.
“Barely,” said the Captain. “Huntington was like a demon. He beamed aboard and – “
“Enough!,” Offenhouse said, punctuating his comment with a curt chop through thin air. “You have failed me for the last time. You’re fired!”
“Fired? But… but…”
“I said you’re fired! If you return to Relatrix, I’ll have you shot down.”
The young Captain was still trying to protest but he raised a squat black box, a remote control of some kind Cardonez theorized, pointed it at the screen and pressed a button. The screen went instantly dark.
“It must be hard getting decent staff nowadays,” she said with a smirk.
Offenhouse twisted his head around sharply and glared at her before raising his arm once more and activating another channel. This time, the face of a nondescript Andorian woman appeared on the viewscreen.
“Traffic Control. How may I…,” she began to say before she realized who was on the other end of the transmission. “Oh, Mister Offenhouse! How can I help you?”
“The visitor that I was expecting… Where is he?”
“Ah, yes. We’ve been watching him closely. He landed next to the Empire Mine but he didn’t stay for too long. Then he took off and flew a few kilometers north to the Pinto Ranch. He left there a few minutes ago and our best estimate is that he’ll be landing next to your villa, sir. Did you want us to alert Customs?”
Offenhouse shook his head. “No, no. He’s expected. I’ll greet him.” He clicked the screen off before he turned back towards Isabel. “This Commander of yours is a troublesome fellow.”
“More trouble than you know,” she said. “If I were you, I would surrender now.”
Offenhouse laughed. “Who is he supposed to be? Rambo?,” he asked her. Cardonez responded with a blank stare and he didn’t offer any explanation. “Glag, Gleg, arrange a reception committee for Mister Huntington. Capture him if possible but if he continues to lead a charmed life, you know which direction that I want you to herd him in.”
Both Ferengi nodded and left.
“Make it easy on yourself, Offenhouse. Even if you do get him, chances are that people know that Huntington’s here. Your plan is going to fail.”
“No, it isn’t,” he replied. “If Huntington had told anyone else, well then why is he alone? Why doesn’t he have a fleet of ships, hmm? No, my plan goes ahead. Within a few days, I will own the Ferengi Alliance. Then it won’t matter who knows.”
“You’re mad,” said Cardonez. “Someone will stop you.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. I can’t be stopped. I’ve died once already.” With that said, he laughed.
“Good luck, Commander, and good hunting,” said the voice of the man who identified himself as James Tyrell.
“Why do we keep listening to that?,” asked Valian Kandro.
Yashiro Masafumi sank down low into his seat. They were grouped around the conference table and, after finally cracking the audio track, they had listened to the message five times in a row. “Because we might have missed something, Mister Kandro,” he said.
“Like what? The bit where Tyrell tells us exactly where Huntington and Cardonez are,” Louise Ramblin said before adding,” I must have missed it. All of that work for nothing.”
Masafumi let her insubordination slide. All of them had been awake for far too long in the last few days and they were all irritable.
“So we have a man who runs a company that owns three planets outright and fifty other enterprises on a dozen other worlds,” Zia Kehen said before adding,” It’s a start.” She was trying to inject some hope into the proceedings.
Masafumi shook his head. “We could never hope to check all of them and we have no way of knowing where the trail led after Cardonez left Trixiet.”
“What about this Tyrell character?,” asked Kandro.
“No good,” Masafumi said. “There are three James Tyrells in Starfleet. All of them are under thirty and none of them are above the rank of Lieutenant.”
“Then it’s over,” said Ramblin. “We might as well go find the Chikuma and give up on finding our people.”
“I hate to agree with our Chief Engineer,” said Kandro. “Really, I do, but I think Lulu is right.”
Ramblin glared at the Betazoid. “I told you never to call me that again.”
“Sue me,” said Kandro while Kehen stifled a giggle.
“People, please calm down,” said Masafumi. “I don’t want to give up just yet either but we have to face facts. We have no idea where Captain Cardonez is and consequently no idea where Huntington is. Our last sighting was Trixiet and that was as far as the message told us anyway. Unless anyone has any further suggestions, I’m going to present what I know to Admiral Gavin and let Starfleet Intelligence take it from here.”
“So that’s it then?,” asked Zia.
“As I said, unless there are any other suggestions, yes, we give up.”
“I know where she is,” said the only other occupant in the room. It was the first time that Doctor Hollem Azahn had spoken in an hour. The gangly Bajoran with the ruffled black hair that refused to stay tidy and a bushy beard to match was sitting at the end of the table, looking down at a sketchbook into which he continued to draw.
“Doctor, joining the discussion at last, I see,” said Masafumi. “We could have used your help earlier.”
“No, you couldn’t,” he said, putting the book down and finally looking up. “It’s a puzzle and the longer that you stare at it, the more complicated it can appear. Someone had to stay objective long enough to figure out the obvious. I decided that it should be me.”
“The obvious?,” asked Kandro.
“Yes,” said the doctor. “Haven’t you ever had a problem that you just couldn’t figure out after hours of work that you went back to it the next day and spotted the solution to it right away?”
“Yes,” said Ramblin,” we all get the analogy, Doctor. So tell us?”
“Tell you what?,” Hollem asked with a sudden note of confusion before he remembered what he had been talking about. “Oh, where Cardonez and Huntington are.” Reaching down to the console on the table in front of him, he accessed the main computer. “Computer, access the passenger manifests of all ships leaving the planet Trixiet in the last month. Find a match with the name Isabel Cardonez.”
After a moment, the computer said,” No match.”
“Well, that would have been too easy,” he said. “What was her mother’s name?”
“Tessel,” said Masafumi.
Hollem repeated his last question, substituting Tessel for Isabel Cardonez.
“No match found.”
“This could take a while,” said Louise. “There must be a hundred aliases that she could be using and not necessarily one that has any meaning to us.”
“Nice try, Doc,” said Kehen.
Hollem looked sullen and defeated. “I was sure…,” he began to say.
“Lieutenant Kehen is correct,” Masafumi interrupted him. “It was a noble effort but – “
“Wait!,” shouted Kandro, interrupting the Captain. “One last try. Computer, run another search on the passenger manifests leaving Trixiet in the last month but this time, look for the name Elizabeth Tennyson.”
There was a perceptible pause while the computer worked and Kehen found that she was holding her breath.
“Match found,” said the computer. “Elizabeth Tennyson boarded the Andorian passenger liner Lokune on Stardate 55367.4.”
“Destination?,” asked Masafumi.
“Destination was for the planet Relatrix.”
Masafumi grabbed one of several PADDs on the table in front of him. “Relatrix! Yes! Patek owns the whole damned planet.” Without a moment of hesitation, he tapped his combadge. “Masafumi to Bridge.”
“Lieutenant Carson here, sir,” came the reply.
“Lieutenant, we have a lead. Lay in a course for the planet Relatrix and get us moving at maximum warp.” He stood now and addressed his officers. “All of you have done fantastic work. If this was a few hundred years ago, you would all be getting a pay raise for this.” That elicited a few laughs. “As it is though, I can’t even give you a mention in our dispatches because what we’re doing isn’t exactly kosher. I just wanted you to know that I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Ramblin said and the others nodded,” but I think that I speak for all of us that finding Captain Cardonez and Commander Huntington will be all of the thanks that we need.”
Outside the windows, the stars, that had been stationary moments before, suddenly went into streaks of light when the Testudo surged forward to warp.
****
Cardonez was conscious again and sitting in one of the far too comfortable sofas. However, this time, Offenhouse wasn’t taking any chances. Her wrists were shackled and a Ferengi guard in an ubiquitous orange jumpsuit was standing behind her with a disruptor leveled with the back of her head. The two squat Ferengi brothers stood off to one side as well and Ralph was having an animated conversation with a young Ferengi on a viewscreen that hung above the fake fire.
“What do you mean he escaped?!,” he snapped. “You have three ships!”
“I’m… I’m sorry, sir,” the young captain replied. “He had a superior ship of the likes of which we had never encountered before. He destroyed two of our ships before we realized what was going on. “
“And yet you survived?,” asked Offenhouse with evident distaste in his voice.
“Barely,” said the Captain. “Huntington was like a demon. He beamed aboard and – “
“Enough!,” Offenhouse said, punctuating his comment with a curt chop through thin air. “You have failed me for the last time. You’re fired!”
“Fired? But… but…”
“I said you’re fired! If you return to Relatrix, I’ll have you shot down.”
The young Captain was still trying to protest but he raised a squat black box, a remote control of some kind Cardonez theorized, pointed it at the screen and pressed a button. The screen went instantly dark.
“It must be hard getting decent staff nowadays,” she said with a smirk.
Offenhouse twisted his head around sharply and glared at her before raising his arm once more and activating another channel. This time, the face of a nondescript Andorian woman appeared on the viewscreen.
“Traffic Control. How may I…,” she began to say before she realized who was on the other end of the transmission. “Oh, Mister Offenhouse! How can I help you?”
“The visitor that I was expecting… Where is he?”
“Ah, yes. We’ve been watching him closely. He landed next to the Empire Mine but he didn’t stay for too long. Then he took off and flew a few kilometers north to the Pinto Ranch. He left there a few minutes ago and our best estimate is that he’ll be landing next to your villa, sir. Did you want us to alert Customs?”
Offenhouse shook his head. “No, no. He’s expected. I’ll greet him.” He clicked the screen off before he turned back towards Isabel. “This Commander of yours is a troublesome fellow.”
“More trouble than you know,” she said. “If I were you, I would surrender now.”
Offenhouse laughed. “Who is he supposed to be? Rambo?,” he asked her. Cardonez responded with a blank stare and he didn’t offer any explanation. “Glag, Gleg, arrange a reception committee for Mister Huntington. Capture him if possible but if he continues to lead a charmed life, you know which direction that I want you to herd him in.”
Both Ferengi nodded and left.
“Make it easy on yourself, Offenhouse. Even if you do get him, chances are that people know that Huntington’s here. Your plan is going to fail.”
“No, it isn’t,” he replied. “If Huntington had told anyone else, well then why is he alone? Why doesn’t he have a fleet of ships, hmm? No, my plan goes ahead. Within a few days, I will own the Ferengi Alliance. Then it won’t matter who knows.”
“You’re mad,” said Cardonez. “Someone will stop you.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. I can’t be stopped. I’ve died once already.” With that said, he laughed.
****
Adam Huntington always felt claustrophobic in an extravehicular activity suit but they were an unfortunate necessity. Never more so than being on a planet with no atmosphere. He had left the runabout a few meters behind him and he marched to the edge of the plateau that he had landed on. He had reviewed the files on Relatrix after he left Trixiet. It was a world where its very atmosphere was frozen, causing hills and mountains to be made out of frozen gas.
He had to be careful moving to the edge. The ice was as smooth as glass and he had almost lost his footing twice, despite the fact that the edge gave way to a slope. Rather than a sheer drop, it was still perilously steep. Now he crouched at the edge and clumsily raised binoculars to the faceplate of his helmet. He breathed deeply of recycled air while he scanned from left to right. There was the villa but there was nothing to indicate that it was the lair of a criminal mastermind. It was very much like the last villa. There were three pale domes of varying sizes interlinked by connecting tunnels. The only thing that looked different was another set of structures that were several hundred meters off to the side of the three domes. It looked like a mining operation with several small shacks by the entrance to a shaft that led diagonally downward into the planet.
Huntington clipped the binoculars to his suit and stood up. He was going to have to get closer in order to eliminate the villa as a target. He sighed and started back towards the runabout.
It soon became apparent that he had turned around and not a moment too soon.
There were five of them. Nebulous spacesuited figures sat astride ice bicycles. Huntington grabbed for his binoculars again and he got a closer look. Each of them wore an orange spacesuit with a bubble-style helmet that allowed him to see that they were all Ferengi. Each man carried a disruptor pistol in one hand while he controlled his bike with the other hand. The bikes were simple affairs with a saddle mounted onto a cylindrical body that rested on a single thin blade like a giant ice skate. They moved fast and they looked like they were very maneuverable.
Huntington began to walk back to the runabout which was currently sitting between them and him when the shooting started. Green-tinged disruptor blasts began to impact against the runabout as well as throwing up tiny clouds of vapor when those energy blasts struck the ground near him, melting the ice and releasing gas that had been frozen for centuries. He had only one choice now and he started to run. Luck, rather than skill, saw him reach for cover behind the runabout without falling and he now drew his phaser and scrambled inside.
Getting to the pilot’s seat while still wearing his EVA suit was a struggle and by the time that he had done it, several disruptor blasts had begun to impact against the small ship. He tried to activate the shields but he was too late and the transparent aluminum windows shattered. Huntington had to grab a hold of his seat to avoid being sucked out along with all of the atmosphere in the runabout. After a few seconds, the small windstorm around him ceased and he was able to confirm his worst fears. According to the engineering readouts before him, the ship was crippled. Several hull breaches and damage to the structural integrity field meant that it would never take off again.
“Lieutenant Ramblin is going to kill me,” he muttered.
Glancing out of the hole in front of the ship, he saw the pack of hunters who were far ahead of Louise Rambin in the queue to kill him getting perilously close. Blinking quickly to clear his head, he climbed out of the pilot’s seat.
“Computer, set auto-destruct. Authorization: Huntington-Zulu-Thirteen.”
“Auto-destruct set. Please specify delay,” the computer said, oblivious to the fact that it would be destroyed soon.
“Sixty seconds.”
He barely registered the computer’s confirmation, acting on autopilot. Letting his instincts dictate his actions before his mind could catch up and overrule them. He reached down to the floor of the runabout and pulled up two tabs that lay inside grooves in the deck plating. Slipping a finger inside each handle, he heaved the inspection hatch up. It was almost as long as he was tall and it was only half a meter wide but it would do. As quickly as he was able, he rocked the hatch over to the transporter and punched in a command, praying that there was enough energy left to do what he was asking.
A moment later and he was back outside with the runabout once more interposed between him and his attackers. Ignoring the disruptor fire that began exploding the ground around him, Huntington forgot his earlier trepidation and ran towards the cliff edge, the lightweight but awkward hatch held above his head.
Although the enemy fire was getting even closer, it wasn’t the fear of being shot that prompted his next action. It was the silent countdown in his head telling him that it was almost sixty seconds. Throwing the hatch down, he leaped, belly first onto it, slipping his fingers into the tabs once more while his momentum carried him and the hatch over the edge. A moment before, the runabout vaporized in an explosion of its own making that engulfed the nearest two bikes.
Adam couldn’t help it. He screamed, the sound echoing loudly within the confines of his suit. His makeshift toboggan hurtled down the slope with gravity increasing its speed with each passing second. The slope wasn’t completely even and the trip shook, jarring every bone in his body. His feet reached over the edge of the hatch and, although he tried to keep them up, they kept trailing on the ground and he was terrified of his suit ripping.
The nightmarish ride took mere seconds but to the Starfleet officer, it felt like hours and when the slope finally gave way to flat ground, Huntington barely had the energy to heave the hatch into a skid, bringing it to a halt. For two previous seconds, he rolled over onto his back and allowed himself to relax. Then he suddenly saw a bike leap over the edge of the cliff and begin its journey straight down and at him. Its rider was already bringing his weapon to bear.
With no time to grab his phaser, Huntington used the only weapon that he had at his disposal. He stood up and grabbed the hatch, its underside pitted and scarred almost through to the other side in places. As the first disruptor blast narrowly flew past his head, he half-turned around and, using the suit’s auxiliary exoskeleton to add power, hurled the hatch in the direction of the rapidly closing biker.
The hapless Ferengi was committed, traveling so fast that, although he tried to steer away, he didn’t have enough time to do so.
Huntington threw himself to the ground while the hatch smashed, edge-first, into the front of the bike. It cracked the leading edge of the blade, the bike cartwheeling over to the bottom of the slope, its jockey crushed beneath its weight.
Huntington picked himself up and drew his phaser. He had no idea how many bikes remained and he scanned the peak, nervously.
When the last two bikes soared over the rise, he knew that they had waited up top, planning the best approach. They were twenty meters apart and already halfway down the slope when Huntington managed a shot that hit the rider on the left with such force that it knocked him clear off of his bike which continued on almost to the base of the slope before it lost its balance and fell clumsily to its side.
One down and one to go, he thought to himself. Unfortunately, their tactics had given the last rider ample time to get to the bottom and he was now coming up fast on Huntington’s right.
He tried to get a clear shot but the biker was weaving from side-to-side so nimbly that his shots struck thin air. On the plus side, it meant that the biker’s shots were equally inaccurate but he had an additional weapon, his bike. In seconds, he would run the Englishman down, slicing his suit open with the wicked blade beneath him.
In desperation, Huntington did the only thing that he could. He aimed at a target that wasn’t moving. His concentrated fire on the ice before him melted it and sent clouds of whatever atmosphere that Relatrix had once possessed into the air. Of course, the heat that energized the gas molecules back into vapor soon faded in the cold vacuum of space and froze up again almost instantly. By the time that it froze up, the biker was already driving through it.
As the ice-encrusted bike weaved past Huntington, the Commander could only imagine the horror that the Ferengi was going through as the gas around him solidified, cracking his suit open and freezing him alive. It was only one more frozen exhibit for a planet that was full of them.
As the ball of ice tumbled to a halt, Huntington scanned the rise once more. That must have been the end of them. The destruction of the runabout must have taken care of the other two, he thought. He let himself breathe and began to consider his next options. With the runabout destroyed and finite oxygen in his tank, they were limited. His best bet would be to get to the villa, somehow get inside and take it from there.
“Simple,” he grunted and turned to start the long walk to the villa.
He barely took a step. “Oh, come on! Give me a break!,” he whined when he saw another seven bikes heading away from the villa and towards him. Warily, he contemplated surrender but he quickly discounted that. He wasn’t the type of man to give up and besides, men whose friends had been blown up, crushed and frozen alive tended not to think too straight. Looking around, Huntington saw the bike lying at the base of the slope. Its rider, the one that he had shot, lay near it after having rolled down the hill after it. He approached the bike with trepidation, expecting the fallen biker to leap up at any second like the monster in a horror movie.
As he got closer, he realized that wasn’t going to happen. The Ferengi lay on his back, staring upwards with dead, empty eyes. His mouth was open in a final, silent scream. The crack down the side of his helmet confirmed the method of his demise. Huntington holstered his phaser and he reached down to pick up the bike. Checking it over, it looked serviceable and he swung his leg over, sitting on the saddle. Hitting the ignition switch, he was relieved when the engine started for the first time. He took a last look at the dead Ferengi and considered the terrible irony of his life. That a man who detested killing should be so damned good at it.
He glanced at the approaching bikers and opened up the throttle, sending the bike away from the oncoming bikers, away from the dead Ferengi and away from his maudlin thoughts. With the bikers between him and the villa, there was only one place to head for.
The mine.
The bike was fast and the onboard stabilization systems made it easy to control and despite the pursuing bikers changing their course when they saw where he was heading, Huntington still made it to the mine well ahead of them. The mine was obviously deserted and when he slowed the bike to a crawl, he wondered how long it had been vacant. There were two small shacks and both of them looked like they were on the verge of collapse. Neither of them had a door and they were holed in several places.
Probably from meteorite strikes.
That left the mineshaft as the only viable place to hide.
Huntington skidded the bike to a halt before the mouth of the mine. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that his pursuers were still several minutes behind him. He grabbed for his tricorder, planning to see where the mineshaft led to but his hand grasped at thin air. He cursed, thinking that it must have fallen off during his escape from the Ferengi. He had no choice. The bike wasn’t designed for long-range operation and he had no idea where the nearest settlement was.
Stepping up to the entrance, his helmet-mounted lights illuminated a single rough circular tunnel that was approximately three meters in diameter that led downwards into darkness. He looked back at the approaching bikes. He had little or no choice. He started walking into the tunnel, hoping that it might lead underneath the villa. Although slanted, the gradient wasn’t too steep and handrails were dug into the ice at regular intervals. In addition, he could see where he was going since the white walls were reflecting and magnifying his helmet lights. Even so, he didn’t feel like he was making good enough progress and he had to keep shaking away visions of armed men charging down the tunnel after him with their guns blazing.
He knew that the bikers had probably made it this far now and it wouldn’t take them too long to figure out where he had gone. They would be cautious. Especially after what had happened to their comrades at the runabout but they would eventually start down after him. He glanced back up the tunnel and although he couldn;t see the mine entrance, he still felt exposed. The tunnel was straight and it wouldn’t take many men armed with disruptors to lay down a barrage of fire that he had no place to hide from. Or perhaps they would simply cause a cave-in, knowing that the tunnel went nowhere.
“That’s it, Adam,” he muttered between heavy breaths. “Always looking on the bright side.”
Then, suddenly, he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Literally.
The tunnel leveled off and turned around a corner. There was a dim light coming fr0m around the bend.
Huntington held his phaser ready while he crept up to the bed. Dropping to his knees, he peeked around the corner, knowing that people only ever expected to see something come around a bend at chest height. Another corridor led away into the distance once more. It was level and at irregular intervals, dim lights pointed downwards, illuminating parts of the wall. Hurriedly ducking down around the corner properly, he felt safer than he had since he entered the tunnels. At least, if they fired down now, he had some cover.
Switching his phaser to the heavy stun setting, he leaned around the bend and fired four quick shots up and into the darkness before ducking back again. He waited but there was no return fire and that somewhat unnerved him. They must have known that he was down here. There had been nowhere else for him to go. It meant that they knew something that he didn’t.
Steeling himself once more, Huntington started walking along the second tunnel. He could move quicker now that it was level ground but there were no hand rails so he still took care. When he reached the first area of illumination, he paused.
So this was Relatrix’s great tourist attraction. There, in the ice, frozen for centuries was a small flock of five tiny birds, each of them no bigger than a sparrow. They seemed to be flying away from Huntingtin, even though he knew that they were immobile.
It was fascinating but he didn’t have time to sightsee so he began walking again. The next exhibit was a long bird that was much larger and flying at right angles to him while he kept walking. The next exhibit almost made him stop but he got over his curiosity. A nebulous white form, the size of a large Human but quite obviously covered in fur, stared out with dead eyes from behind the ice.
Huntington shivered and it wasn’t down to the cold. It was only when he passed by the next dimly lit tableau that he realized something. It was another bird. That made sense. After all, this area had probably been Relatrix’s upper atmosphere. So what was a ground-based creature doing at this attitude?
The Commander spun around fast, his finger ready on the trigger but it was too late. If he hadn’t been walking through a vacuum, he might have heard the fake ice door slide open. He would have definitely heard the creature growling when it ran up behind him.
However, he hadn’t and when he turned around, it was straight into the creature. Huntington had never seen anything like it. It was a huge apelike creature with white fur and huge yellowish horns sprouting from its head and back. The Mugato roared silently and reached down, grasping the arm that held his phaser and biting down on it. He screamed when he felt sharp fangs pierce his skin, brutally aware that if not for his suit, the creature might have bitten his arm clean off.
As the Mugato released its grip, Huntington fell backwards to the icy ground, his phaser long since fallen from his grasp. He lay on the ground with his left hand clasped over the holes in his suit, frantically trying to keep the oxygen in. the Mugato stood above him, roaring with slobber hanging from its jaws. Already he felt feverish. His vision was blurring and he wasn’t sure if it was shock or some kind of toxin in the creature’s fangs. Not that it mattered as the creature reached down.
This was the end and all that Adam Huntington could think about was that he would probably never be found. Nat would spend the rest of her life, never knowing what had happened to her husband. His last sight was of the creature’s mouth which was opened wide in readiness to clamp down hard…
Adam Huntington always felt claustrophobic in an extravehicular activity suit but they were an unfortunate necessity. Never more so than being on a planet with no atmosphere. He had left the runabout a few meters behind him and he marched to the edge of the plateau that he had landed on. He had reviewed the files on Relatrix after he left Trixiet. It was a world where its very atmosphere was frozen, causing hills and mountains to be made out of frozen gas.
He had to be careful moving to the edge. The ice was as smooth as glass and he had almost lost his footing twice, despite the fact that the edge gave way to a slope. Rather than a sheer drop, it was still perilously steep. Now he crouched at the edge and clumsily raised binoculars to the faceplate of his helmet. He breathed deeply of recycled air while he scanned from left to right. There was the villa but there was nothing to indicate that it was the lair of a criminal mastermind. It was very much like the last villa. There were three pale domes of varying sizes interlinked by connecting tunnels. The only thing that looked different was another set of structures that were several hundred meters off to the side of the three domes. It looked like a mining operation with several small shacks by the entrance to a shaft that led diagonally downward into the planet.
Huntington clipped the binoculars to his suit and stood up. He was going to have to get closer in order to eliminate the villa as a target. He sighed and started back towards the runabout.
It soon became apparent that he had turned around and not a moment too soon.
There were five of them. Nebulous spacesuited figures sat astride ice bicycles. Huntington grabbed for his binoculars again and he got a closer look. Each of them wore an orange spacesuit with a bubble-style helmet that allowed him to see that they were all Ferengi. Each man carried a disruptor pistol in one hand while he controlled his bike with the other hand. The bikes were simple affairs with a saddle mounted onto a cylindrical body that rested on a single thin blade like a giant ice skate. They moved fast and they looked like they were very maneuverable.
Huntington began to walk back to the runabout which was currently sitting between them and him when the shooting started. Green-tinged disruptor blasts began to impact against the runabout as well as throwing up tiny clouds of vapor when those energy blasts struck the ground near him, melting the ice and releasing gas that had been frozen for centuries. He had only one choice now and he started to run. Luck, rather than skill, saw him reach for cover behind the runabout without falling and he now drew his phaser and scrambled inside.
Getting to the pilot’s seat while still wearing his EVA suit was a struggle and by the time that he had done it, several disruptor blasts had begun to impact against the small ship. He tried to activate the shields but he was too late and the transparent aluminum windows shattered. Huntington had to grab a hold of his seat to avoid being sucked out along with all of the atmosphere in the runabout. After a few seconds, the small windstorm around him ceased and he was able to confirm his worst fears. According to the engineering readouts before him, the ship was crippled. Several hull breaches and damage to the structural integrity field meant that it would never take off again.
“Lieutenant Ramblin is going to kill me,” he muttered.
Glancing out of the hole in front of the ship, he saw the pack of hunters who were far ahead of Louise Rambin in the queue to kill him getting perilously close. Blinking quickly to clear his head, he climbed out of the pilot’s seat.
“Computer, set auto-destruct. Authorization: Huntington-Zulu-Thirteen.”
“Auto-destruct set. Please specify delay,” the computer said, oblivious to the fact that it would be destroyed soon.
“Sixty seconds.”
He barely registered the computer’s confirmation, acting on autopilot. Letting his instincts dictate his actions before his mind could catch up and overrule them. He reached down to the floor of the runabout and pulled up two tabs that lay inside grooves in the deck plating. Slipping a finger inside each handle, he heaved the inspection hatch up. It was almost as long as he was tall and it was only half a meter wide but it would do. As quickly as he was able, he rocked the hatch over to the transporter and punched in a command, praying that there was enough energy left to do what he was asking.
A moment later and he was back outside with the runabout once more interposed between him and his attackers. Ignoring the disruptor fire that began exploding the ground around him, Huntington forgot his earlier trepidation and ran towards the cliff edge, the lightweight but awkward hatch held above his head.
Although the enemy fire was getting even closer, it wasn’t the fear of being shot that prompted his next action. It was the silent countdown in his head telling him that it was almost sixty seconds. Throwing the hatch down, he leaped, belly first onto it, slipping his fingers into the tabs once more while his momentum carried him and the hatch over the edge. A moment before, the runabout vaporized in an explosion of its own making that engulfed the nearest two bikes.
Adam couldn’t help it. He screamed, the sound echoing loudly within the confines of his suit. His makeshift toboggan hurtled down the slope with gravity increasing its speed with each passing second. The slope wasn’t completely even and the trip shook, jarring every bone in his body. His feet reached over the edge of the hatch and, although he tried to keep them up, they kept trailing on the ground and he was terrified of his suit ripping.
The nightmarish ride took mere seconds but to the Starfleet officer, it felt like hours and when the slope finally gave way to flat ground, Huntington barely had the energy to heave the hatch into a skid, bringing it to a halt. For two previous seconds, he rolled over onto his back and allowed himself to relax. Then he suddenly saw a bike leap over the edge of the cliff and begin its journey straight down and at him. Its rider was already bringing his weapon to bear.
With no time to grab his phaser, Huntington used the only weapon that he had at his disposal. He stood up and grabbed the hatch, its underside pitted and scarred almost through to the other side in places. As the first disruptor blast narrowly flew past his head, he half-turned around and, using the suit’s auxiliary exoskeleton to add power, hurled the hatch in the direction of the rapidly closing biker.
The hapless Ferengi was committed, traveling so fast that, although he tried to steer away, he didn’t have enough time to do so.
Huntington threw himself to the ground while the hatch smashed, edge-first, into the front of the bike. It cracked the leading edge of the blade, the bike cartwheeling over to the bottom of the slope, its jockey crushed beneath its weight.
Huntington picked himself up and drew his phaser. He had no idea how many bikes remained and he scanned the peak, nervously.
When the last two bikes soared over the rise, he knew that they had waited up top, planning the best approach. They were twenty meters apart and already halfway down the slope when Huntington managed a shot that hit the rider on the left with such force that it knocked him clear off of his bike which continued on almost to the base of the slope before it lost its balance and fell clumsily to its side.
One down and one to go, he thought to himself. Unfortunately, their tactics had given the last rider ample time to get to the bottom and he was now coming up fast on Huntington’s right.
He tried to get a clear shot but the biker was weaving from side-to-side so nimbly that his shots struck thin air. On the plus side, it meant that the biker’s shots were equally inaccurate but he had an additional weapon, his bike. In seconds, he would run the Englishman down, slicing his suit open with the wicked blade beneath him.
In desperation, Huntington did the only thing that he could. He aimed at a target that wasn’t moving. His concentrated fire on the ice before him melted it and sent clouds of whatever atmosphere that Relatrix had once possessed into the air. Of course, the heat that energized the gas molecules back into vapor soon faded in the cold vacuum of space and froze up again almost instantly. By the time that it froze up, the biker was already driving through it.
As the ice-encrusted bike weaved past Huntington, the Commander could only imagine the horror that the Ferengi was going through as the gas around him solidified, cracking his suit open and freezing him alive. It was only one more frozen exhibit for a planet that was full of them.
As the ball of ice tumbled to a halt, Huntington scanned the rise once more. That must have been the end of them. The destruction of the runabout must have taken care of the other two, he thought. He let himself breathe and began to consider his next options. With the runabout destroyed and finite oxygen in his tank, they were limited. His best bet would be to get to the villa, somehow get inside and take it from there.
“Simple,” he grunted and turned to start the long walk to the villa.
He barely took a step. “Oh, come on! Give me a break!,” he whined when he saw another seven bikes heading away from the villa and towards him. Warily, he contemplated surrender but he quickly discounted that. He wasn’t the type of man to give up and besides, men whose friends had been blown up, crushed and frozen alive tended not to think too straight. Looking around, Huntington saw the bike lying at the base of the slope. Its rider, the one that he had shot, lay near it after having rolled down the hill after it. He approached the bike with trepidation, expecting the fallen biker to leap up at any second like the monster in a horror movie.
As he got closer, he realized that wasn’t going to happen. The Ferengi lay on his back, staring upwards with dead, empty eyes. His mouth was open in a final, silent scream. The crack down the side of his helmet confirmed the method of his demise. Huntington holstered his phaser and he reached down to pick up the bike. Checking it over, it looked serviceable and he swung his leg over, sitting on the saddle. Hitting the ignition switch, he was relieved when the engine started for the first time. He took a last look at the dead Ferengi and considered the terrible irony of his life. That a man who detested killing should be so damned good at it.
He glanced at the approaching bikers and opened up the throttle, sending the bike away from the oncoming bikers, away from the dead Ferengi and away from his maudlin thoughts. With the bikers between him and the villa, there was only one place to head for.
The mine.
The bike was fast and the onboard stabilization systems made it easy to control and despite the pursuing bikers changing their course when they saw where he was heading, Huntington still made it to the mine well ahead of them. The mine was obviously deserted and when he slowed the bike to a crawl, he wondered how long it had been vacant. There were two small shacks and both of them looked like they were on the verge of collapse. Neither of them had a door and they were holed in several places.
Probably from meteorite strikes.
That left the mineshaft as the only viable place to hide.
Huntington skidded the bike to a halt before the mouth of the mine. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that his pursuers were still several minutes behind him. He grabbed for his tricorder, planning to see where the mineshaft led to but his hand grasped at thin air. He cursed, thinking that it must have fallen off during his escape from the Ferengi. He had no choice. The bike wasn’t designed for long-range operation and he had no idea where the nearest settlement was.
Stepping up to the entrance, his helmet-mounted lights illuminated a single rough circular tunnel that was approximately three meters in diameter that led downwards into darkness. He looked back at the approaching bikes. He had little or no choice. He started walking into the tunnel, hoping that it might lead underneath the villa. Although slanted, the gradient wasn’t too steep and handrails were dug into the ice at regular intervals. In addition, he could see where he was going since the white walls were reflecting and magnifying his helmet lights. Even so, he didn’t feel like he was making good enough progress and he had to keep shaking away visions of armed men charging down the tunnel after him with their guns blazing.
He knew that the bikers had probably made it this far now and it wouldn’t take them too long to figure out where he had gone. They would be cautious. Especially after what had happened to their comrades at the runabout but they would eventually start down after him. He glanced back up the tunnel and although he couldn;t see the mine entrance, he still felt exposed. The tunnel was straight and it wouldn’t take many men armed with disruptors to lay down a barrage of fire that he had no place to hide from. Or perhaps they would simply cause a cave-in, knowing that the tunnel went nowhere.
“That’s it, Adam,” he muttered between heavy breaths. “Always looking on the bright side.”
Then, suddenly, he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Literally.
The tunnel leveled off and turned around a corner. There was a dim light coming fr0m around the bend.
Huntington held his phaser ready while he crept up to the bed. Dropping to his knees, he peeked around the corner, knowing that people only ever expected to see something come around a bend at chest height. Another corridor led away into the distance once more. It was level and at irregular intervals, dim lights pointed downwards, illuminating parts of the wall. Hurriedly ducking down around the corner properly, he felt safer than he had since he entered the tunnels. At least, if they fired down now, he had some cover.
Switching his phaser to the heavy stun setting, he leaned around the bend and fired four quick shots up and into the darkness before ducking back again. He waited but there was no return fire and that somewhat unnerved him. They must have known that he was down here. There had been nowhere else for him to go. It meant that they knew something that he didn’t.
Steeling himself once more, Huntington started walking along the second tunnel. He could move quicker now that it was level ground but there were no hand rails so he still took care. When he reached the first area of illumination, he paused.
So this was Relatrix’s great tourist attraction. There, in the ice, frozen for centuries was a small flock of five tiny birds, each of them no bigger than a sparrow. They seemed to be flying away from Huntingtin, even though he knew that they were immobile.
It was fascinating but he didn’t have time to sightsee so he began walking again. The next exhibit was a long bird that was much larger and flying at right angles to him while he kept walking. The next exhibit almost made him stop but he got over his curiosity. A nebulous white form, the size of a large Human but quite obviously covered in fur, stared out with dead eyes from behind the ice.
Huntington shivered and it wasn’t down to the cold. It was only when he passed by the next dimly lit tableau that he realized something. It was another bird. That made sense. After all, this area had probably been Relatrix’s upper atmosphere. So what was a ground-based creature doing at this attitude?
The Commander spun around fast, his finger ready on the trigger but it was too late. If he hadn’t been walking through a vacuum, he might have heard the fake ice door slide open. He would have definitely heard the creature growling when it ran up behind him.
However, he hadn’t and when he turned around, it was straight into the creature. Huntington had never seen anything like it. It was a huge apelike creature with white fur and huge yellowish horns sprouting from its head and back. The Mugato roared silently and reached down, grasping the arm that held his phaser and biting down on it. He screamed when he felt sharp fangs pierce his skin, brutally aware that if not for his suit, the creature might have bitten his arm clean off.
As the Mugato released its grip, Huntington fell backwards to the icy ground, his phaser long since fallen from his grasp. He lay on the ground with his left hand clasped over the holes in his suit, frantically trying to keep the oxygen in. the Mugato stood above him, roaring with slobber hanging from its jaws. Already he felt feverish. His vision was blurring and he wasn’t sure if it was shock or some kind of toxin in the creature’s fangs. Not that it mattered as the creature reached down.
This was the end and all that Adam Huntington could think about was that he would probably never be found. Nat would spend the rest of her life, never knowing what had happened to her husband. His last sight was of the creature’s mouth which was opened wide in readiness to clamp down hard…
Great action sequences and a toothy cliffhanger.... Really enjoying the world-building here.
Thanks!! rbs
Thanks!! rbs
Then I hope you enjoy this next bit.
Chapter Four
On one level, Adam Huntington knew that he was dreaming and yet, on another level, he knew that somehow this was quite real. He saw blue sparks and a white creature was shying away from him. Then he felt himself being lifted up and carried a stretcher. He saw a bubble-headed monster by his side who was affixing something to his arm.
Darkness…
In another dream, he sat naked in a chair. Two creatures with large heads and ears stood on both sides of him, clad in orange suits and they looked like they were identical twins. He saw their mouths move but he couldn’t hear a word. One struck him across the face but he didn’t feel anything. The other one leaned in and again spoke silently. Huntington didn’t understand and he tried to speak but he couldn’t. The creature looked angry. Reaching down, it showed him something that looked like a tennis racket. Then he used it like a weapon, bringing it up between Huntington’s legs. He tensed in anticipation but there was no pain.
Darkness…
He was sitting outside. It was a cold day but the sun was shining. Beside him was Natalia. She was dressed in a floral red dress. Her hair was still blonde and she looked so young. She was smiling at him and pointing off into the distance. He turned his head around and looked at where she was pointing. The children were running through long pink grass, chasing a football. He knew that this was Primus Four. His daughter Elizabeth was in the lead, gleefully kicking the ball away from her brother Yuri, much to his frustration. She was two years older and two years faster than him. Trailing behind them but happy to do was little Peter, two years old and toddling unsteadily on tiny legs.
Darkness…
He was back in the chair. One of the large headed creatures, a Ferengi, he realized, was using a hypospray to inject something into his neck. The Ferengi’s twin stood off to one side. Suddenly, a third person appeared. A man, a Human. He stared deeply into Huntington’s eyes, his mouth moving animatedly and asking questions that he couldn’t hear.
Darkness…
He was kneeling in a dark street with a woman held in his arms. She was dead, staring upwards with lifeless eyes speckled with blood from the deep cut across her throat. Huntington was crying. His eyes stung with loss, frustration, and anger. The woman was young, no more than twenty years old. She had bright red hair framed in a heavily-made up fact that couldn’t disguise what had once been porcelain skin.
Suddenly the woman’s face morphed into that of Liz Tennyson. Too late again.
Darkness…
A graveyard and a cold, bright day. He saw Natalia, dressed in black, holding a single red rose in her hand while she stood by an open grave. His children stood close by. Elizabeth was comforting Yuri while he cried on her shoulder. Peter was standing straight, trying hard not to cry. Huntington began to run towards them, trying to figure out that he wasn't dead. However, before he could reach them, he saw a huge white monster move up behind them, its claws were ready to cleave their heads from their bodies.
“Nooo!,” he screamed, jerking himself up in bed.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” a familiar voice said from his side.
Huntington was awake now. The dreams were gone but he was drenched in sweat. He glanced around and he saw that he was sitting up in a white-colored bed, naked from the waist up. There was a bandage wrapped around his right forearm. Isabel Cardonez was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a white dress.
Huntington smiled at her. “My name is Adam Huntington,” he said,” and I’m here to rescue you.”
“Some rescue.”
They both laughed. Huntington grabbed his side in pain when he did.
“Easy, Adam,” said Cardonez. “You busted a couple of ribs and they haven’t quite healed yet.”
He coughed suddenly and Cardonez realized how dry his throat must be. Reaching over to a bedside table, she picked up a plastic tumbler. “Here, drink this.”
He gratefully took it from her and drank deeply. “How long have I been out?,” he asked her between gulps.
“They brought you in four days ago and they’ve taken you out a few times since then. Interrogation, I think.”
Huntington nodded and passed her back the empty glass. “Yes, I remember some of it. What the hell was it that took a chunk out of me?”
“Something called a Mugato. Offenhouse imported it from some backwater planet as a guard dog. He even had it surgically altered so that it could live in a vacuum for short periods of time.”
“Effective guard dog,” he said, glancing under the sheet and frowning slightly.
“It’s okay. I didn’t peek,” Cardonez said, smiling. “There are some clothes in the dresser for you.”
“My boots?”
“Gone. Offenhouse delighted in telling me about all of the little toys that he discovered in the heels of your boots. And the ones that he found in the lining of your clothes too.”
Huntington ran his fingers through his hair. “So they got everything. Typical,” he said. Suddenly he frowned and glanced at Cardonez. “Who the hell is Offenhouse?”
Cardonez smiled. “Well, I assumed that you came here looking for me and I was looking for him. It’s the real person behind a man named Patek.”
“The Ferengi businessman. Yeah, Tyrell put me onto him.”
“Well, he’s not a Ferengi. Would you believe that he’s a megalomaniac Human from the Twentieth Century with a plot to buy the Ferengi Alliance?”
Huntington sighed. “It seems like I have a lot of catching up to do.”
Cardonez fetched another two glasses of water and then she began to fill in the blanks. After she had explained everything, including the fact that she had barely been allowed out of the room since he had been captured. Huntington decided that a shower might be in order. Wrapping a sheet around his waist, he grabbed clothes from the dresser, blue trousers, a sweater, and matching plimsolls before he headed into the shower.
The hot water felt good against his aching body and the only thing that he missed was a razor. The stubble would have to stay on his face for now. His sides ached and the bite mark beneath the waterproof bandage itched. Why they hadn’t used a dermal regenerator on it, he didn’t know. Then again, he still found it curious that he and Cardonez were still alive.
After a long shower, he got dressed and he stepped outside, just in time to see one of the Ferengi twins clasping binders onto Cardonez’s wrists. His brother stood off to one side with two other Ferengi. All of them were armed and they all wore those ludicrous orange jumpsuits.
“Are we going on a day out?,” he asked.
“Shut up and put your hands out,” said the brother that was closer to Cardonez.
Huntington smiled while he did what he was told and let the Ferengi place the binders on him. “So, are you a tennis fan? Or is it your brother?,” he asked him.
For an instant, the Ferengi was taken aback by his question and Huntington knew that they hadn’t expected him to remember that. A sly grin crept across his face. “Oh, that was me,” he said proudly.
“Nice backhand,” he said as pleasantly as if he was really talking about tennis. The Ferengi laughed. “Just bear in mind that the game isn’t over,” Huntington added, injecting as much menace as he could into his words for a man with his hands bound.
“Just try something, please?,” asked the other brother, fingering the butt of his gun.
“Nah,” said Huntington. “Not just yet.”
This caused the Ferengi to laugh even harder before they ushered both Starfleet officers out of the doorn and down to Offenhouse’s lair. It was no different to the last time that Cardonez was there. The only change was in Offenhouse who was wearing a darker suit. His hair was slicked back somehow in a perverse mirror image of Huntington.
“Please sit down,” he said affably.
Cardonez and Huntington were prodded towards one of the sofas and sat down, side-by-side. “So this is the part where you explain your plan no doubt?,” he asked. The twin with the tennis fixation stood to his right side.
Offenhouse regarded him with a look of distaste. “You know, I’ve never cared much for Brits,” he said. “Too pompous by half. Take Picard, for example.”
“Picard’s ancestry is actually Ferengi,” said Cardonez.
“Well, he sounds English,” said Offenhouse, his usual prop of a glass of scotch in his hand,” and so do you.”
“Well, actually, I was born on the Moon, but I understand that you’re a little behind the times.”
“Try a lot behind the times. He’s an anachronism. Mankind gave up lusting after profit, centuries ago,” Cardonez said.
“Perhaps, but it will soon be time to reawaken Mankind’s lust. Or did you really think that I would stop at the Ferengi Alliance?,” he asked them.
“I would tell you that you’re mad but I usually get beaten up if I say that,” said Huntington. “So I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Wise move,” said Offenhouse. “You killed a lot of my best men. It was difficult to keep you alive.”
Huntington cast a glance sideways before sneering. “If they were your best men, then I don’t see you taking over a corner shop. Let alone an Empire.”
The Ferengi standing near him cuffed him across the back of the head. “Shut up!”
Offenhouse merely laughed. “As I’ve explained to Captain Cardonez here countless times, I don’t intend to overthrow the current Ferengi government. I intend to buy it out.”
“And I’ve told you that you can’t have the latinum for that,” Isabel said. She knew that Huntington was up to something. He was far too chipper for a man that was facing death or worse. She was ready to move when he did. If she was going to die, it would be on her feet, struggling to survive.
“Ah, but in a few hours, I’ll have more than enough. You see, I’m going to make my own.”
Cardonez and Huntington laughed together. “Latinum can’t be replicated,” said Isabel.
“Actually, it can but it takes an awful expenditure of time and energy that makes the process worthless. I’ve invested heavily in an alternative.”
“You know those beans aren’t really magic,” said Huntington. “You should have kept the cow.”
Offenhouse ignored him. Instead, he placed his glass down, out of the reach of his prisoners and picked up his remote. He didn’t point it at the blank viewscreen. He pointed it at the ceiling. With a loud groan, a section of the ceiling split apart and, seconds later, a metal cradle was lowered to an inch above the floor. Sitting in the cradle was a simple, metallic torpedo-shaped object. Attached to it was a blocky device with a display and a control panel.
“A bomb?,” asked Cardonez. “You’re going to make money with a bomb?”
“Oh, this isn’t a bomb. In fact, this is more of a myth, a legend. A discarded piece of history, just like me.” Offenhouse smiled.
“The suspense is killing me,” said Adam.
Offenhouse walked up to the device and paused. After a second, he punched a command into the keypad and the display lit up. Now it showed numbers and an obvious countdown sequence that was set to start at sixty minutes. He turned towards the Starfleet officers. “You’ve never heard of the Genesis Device?,” he asked with a flourish.
That question got their attention. Before they had seen Offenhouse as a grubby little industrialist with a nebulous money-making scheme. Now he was potentially a very dangerous foe.
“Genesis doesn’t exist,” Cardonez said,” and even if it did, no power would use it. Not even the Romulans.”
“Oh, it does exist,” Offenhouse said, patting the device gently. “I know that all of the Genesis research was banned after the Khitomer Accords were established, but it’s amazing what you can do if the mood takes you and you have the cash. Carol Marcus’ unfinished autobiography, for example, or the computer core of a Klingon Bird-of-Prey that was fished out of San Francisco Bay. throw in a few embittered scientists stymied in their research by Khitomer and voila!”
Finally the true nature of Offenhouse’s plan became clear. “Relatrix,” Huntington said. “You’re going to use Genesis on Relatrix.”
“Give that man a cigar,” Offenhouse said. He pointed the control at the floor and another section split apart, leaving a hole more than wide enough for the cradle to descend into “I’ll shortly be activating the timer and sixty minutes later, Relatrix will be reborn as a planet awash with rivers of latinum.”
Cardonez stood. “You can’t do it,” she said. “The people. There are thousands of people on this planet.” The Ferengi twin that was closest to her pushed her back down into her seat.
“Forty-seven thousand, six hundred, and thirty-one, the last time that we checked,” Offenhouse said. “It’s regrettable but this is no other way.”
“You know that people will figure it out,” said Huntington. “The planet that you own just happens to miraculously transform into a pot of gold. I don’t think so.”
“Anyways, Genesis doesn’t work. It uses protomatter and it’s unstable. Your latinum will be useless to you,” said Cardonez, annoyed that she had descended to the level of trying to reason with a madman.
“You’re both correct and wrong at the same time. Yes, protomatter is a problem but times change. One of the scientists that I’ve employed has discovered a way to stabilize the protomatter and my latinum will last for a lifetime. This does leave the problem that Mister Huntington so accurately painted thought and so, in the heart of the new Relatrix, will be an unstable core awash with uncontrolled protomatter. I have three converted D’Kora-class ships nearby that are just waiting to swoop in and load up their cargo bays with enough latinum to fulfill all of my needs. Within a few hours, the protomatter in the planet’s core will destroy the planet.”
“Leaving no trace of what really happened. Just the residue of a failed Genesis experiment.”
“But why Relatrix?,” asked Cardonez. “Why kill all of these people when you could use an uninhabited world?”
“Because every Hitler needs a Reichstag Fire,” said Huntington.
“Yes, very perspective,” said Offenhouse. “You see, I won’t just rise to Nagus-hood on wealth alone. I’ll also ride in on a wave of paranoia and fear. The Ferengi Alliance has been attacked after all and by whom? Why, the very people that it was closest to, the Federation.” He smiled again with the cold smile of an alligator.
“And you’ll prove this how?,” asked Huntington.
“Oh, it’s much easier than I originally hoped. You see, originally, I was planning to plant evidence indicating that a Federation ship was nearby… and then you two bumbled into my hands.”
“Uh-oh,” said Isabel.
“Quite. Already the remains of your novel little runabout has been collected. They will be scattered near the edge of this star system, along with the remains of your bodies. Two renegade Starfleet officers, each of them acting without any official sanction, and killed while escaping after their cowardly attack on a Ferengi world.”
Huntington knew that he was running out of time. He needed a distraction and soon. Because whether this man’s plan succeeded or not, he and Cardonez would be just as dead. As it was though, none of the Ferengi were relaxing their guard at all.
“Insanity doesn’t do you any justice,” said Cardonez. “Someone will find out the truth.”
“Who?,” asked Offenhouse. “The only man who knows what kind of mission that you’re on is, by your own accounts under interrogation, a spy. The Machiavelian head of a secret organization. He’ll be a very convincing witness.” He yawned. “Face it. We used every drug on you so we know everything that you know. No one else knows where you are. John Wayne isn’t about to ride over the hill, guns a-blazing to rescue you.”
The viewscreen activated out of the blue and the face of a crumpled old Ferengi appeared. “Offenhouse, we’re in trouble,” he told the older Human.
Offenhouse frowned. “Fetta, what do you mean, trouble?”
“A Federation starship is entering orbit.”
Cardonez and Huntington exchanged looks.
“It’s of no relevance,” he said. “Destroy it. It will merely add to the illusion.”
“Yes, sir,” said the Ferengi named Feta and the screen went dark.
When it went dark, Huntington made his move. The guard was as distracted as they were ever likely to get. The small laser cutter dropped out of his sleeve and into his right palm. It was no wider than a strand of hair. The tiny black device had been secreted within the hair on the back of his head and it had been completely missed when they stripped him of his other toys. The laser cutter was limited since its housing only had just enough energy for a single short-range blast of energy. It was quite enough to snap the linking plate between each of his wrists.
He moved like lightning, swinging to his right. He punched hard with his left first, right into the tenderest part of the Ferengi standing next to him. As the man squealed, Huntington grabbed his disruptor. “New balls, please,” he quipped and rammed the weapon up hard into the Ferengi’s face.
Simultaneously, Captain Cardonez rolled sideways off of the soda, clumsily knocking the second brother to the ground.
“Get them!,” shouted Offenhouse and the two other guards suddenly ran towards the melee going on near the sofas.
Huntington was ready for them. He had the disruptor in a two-handed grip now while the Ferengi twin fell to the floor. The two oncoming guards hesitated for a fraction of a second. The Starfleet Commander didn’t and two shots lanced outward, downing both of the guards. He spun around fast on his heels to help Cardonez but he found out that she was doing quite all right on her own. Her momentum had enabled her to get astride the Ferengi and now she hit him hard across the face. Both of her fists were clenched together into one powerful swing. He was unconscious but she followed it up with a second blow.
“Stop!,” called out a sudden voice.
Isabel froze before she could strike the Ferengi again. Huntington half-turned around but he knew that he would never bring his gun to bear in time.
Offenhouse was standing by the Genesis device and he was holding Huntington’s phaser in his hand. “Well-played, Commander, but I have the upper hand once again,” he said. “Now drop the gun.”
Huntington sighed. “You know, this used to be a lot more fun when I was younger,” he said. “Why don’t you drop your gun? Or rather, drop my gun.”
“You’re in no position to threaten me, Commander. If you so much as lift your weapon, I’ll fire. That goes for you too, Cardonez.”
Cardonez stopped reaching for the unconscious Ferengi’s gun. “Give it up, Offenhouse. There’s a ship in orbit.”
“A ship that’s outnumbered three-to-one,” Offenhouse said through gritted teeth. “Commander, I told you to drop your gun.”
“I know,” said the Commander,” but I really can’t do that.”
“Adam?,” asked Isabel.
“Don’t be a fool,” said Offenhouse.
Huntington smiled wanly. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he joked and then he started to bring his gun to bear.
Offenhouse smiled and pulled the trigger.
The flash was bright and for a moment, Cardonez was blinded but she still dived for the gun. As her vision returned, she rolled awkwardly on the floor and came up, ready to shoot.
Huntungton stood in the same spot, still smiling. Offenhouse lay in a crumpled heap by the side of his pride and joy.
“What the…,” she muttered.
The Security Chief walked over to Offenhouse’s body, kneeled down and picked up his weapon. “Fingerprint scanner in the trigger housing sends an electrical charge through the pistol grip if the fingerprint isn’t authorized,” he said, absently. “No one uses my gun but me.”
He walked over to Cardonez, helping her up before he used his phaser to snap her bonds as well.
“Now what?,” she asked him.
“Now we get their guns before any of them wake up,” he said and the two of them quickly gathered up the other guard’s weapons, Cardonez took one for herself and they disposed of the other three.
“A Federation ship? It must be Tyrell’s people. How did they find us?”
“Who knows?,” said Huntington with a shrug. We had better find a way to contact…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as the sound of the cradle moving again cut through the air.
They turned around just in time to see Ralph Offenhouse, clinging to the cradle while it descended. Huntington managed to get his head in his sights but before he could fire, disruptor beams fired into the sofa closest to them, destroying it. The two Starfleet officers swung to their left, targeting the lone Ferengin who was standing in the nearby doorway. They both fired at once, dropping him where he stood.
Dashing over to the hole in the ground, they looked down and saw a small pinprick of light in the darkness. Cardonez was about to shoot when Huntington stopped her. “Don’t fire. I have no idea who unstable a Genesis Device is but we can’t take the chance of it detonating.”
“So what do we do?”
“You go find a communicator and contact that starship. I’m going after Offenhouse.”
“You give orders far too easily,” she said. “Just remember who the Captain is here.”
“You’re on a leave of absence. That means I have operational control.” He smiled.
“Okay, good luck,” she said before running off towards a nearby staircase.
Huntington jabbed his phaser into the waistband of his trousers before tearing his jumper off. Ripping it in half, he wrapped one half around each hand before he reached for the single cable and began his climb downward.
Chapter Four
On one level, Adam Huntington knew that he was dreaming and yet, on another level, he knew that somehow this was quite real. He saw blue sparks and a white creature was shying away from him. Then he felt himself being lifted up and carried a stretcher. He saw a bubble-headed monster by his side who was affixing something to his arm.
Darkness…
In another dream, he sat naked in a chair. Two creatures with large heads and ears stood on both sides of him, clad in orange suits and they looked like they were identical twins. He saw their mouths move but he couldn’t hear a word. One struck him across the face but he didn’t feel anything. The other one leaned in and again spoke silently. Huntington didn’t understand and he tried to speak but he couldn’t. The creature looked angry. Reaching down, it showed him something that looked like a tennis racket. Then he used it like a weapon, bringing it up between Huntington’s legs. He tensed in anticipation but there was no pain.
Darkness…
He was sitting outside. It was a cold day but the sun was shining. Beside him was Natalia. She was dressed in a floral red dress. Her hair was still blonde and she looked so young. She was smiling at him and pointing off into the distance. He turned his head around and looked at where she was pointing. The children were running through long pink grass, chasing a football. He knew that this was Primus Four. His daughter Elizabeth was in the lead, gleefully kicking the ball away from her brother Yuri, much to his frustration. She was two years older and two years faster than him. Trailing behind them but happy to do was little Peter, two years old and toddling unsteadily on tiny legs.
Darkness…
He was back in the chair. One of the large headed creatures, a Ferengi, he realized, was using a hypospray to inject something into his neck. The Ferengi’s twin stood off to one side. Suddenly, a third person appeared. A man, a Human. He stared deeply into Huntington’s eyes, his mouth moving animatedly and asking questions that he couldn’t hear.
Darkness…
He was kneeling in a dark street with a woman held in his arms. She was dead, staring upwards with lifeless eyes speckled with blood from the deep cut across her throat. Huntington was crying. His eyes stung with loss, frustration, and anger. The woman was young, no more than twenty years old. She had bright red hair framed in a heavily-made up fact that couldn’t disguise what had once been porcelain skin.
Suddenly the woman’s face morphed into that of Liz Tennyson. Too late again.
Darkness…
A graveyard and a cold, bright day. He saw Natalia, dressed in black, holding a single red rose in her hand while she stood by an open grave. His children stood close by. Elizabeth was comforting Yuri while he cried on her shoulder. Peter was standing straight, trying hard not to cry. Huntington began to run towards them, trying to figure out that he wasn't dead. However, before he could reach them, he saw a huge white monster move up behind them, its claws were ready to cleave their heads from their bodies.
“Nooo!,” he screamed, jerking himself up in bed.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” a familiar voice said from his side.
Huntington was awake now. The dreams were gone but he was drenched in sweat. He glanced around and he saw that he was sitting up in a white-colored bed, naked from the waist up. There was a bandage wrapped around his right forearm. Isabel Cardonez was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a white dress.
Huntington smiled at her. “My name is Adam Huntington,” he said,” and I’m here to rescue you.”
“Some rescue.”
They both laughed. Huntington grabbed his side in pain when he did.
“Easy, Adam,” said Cardonez. “You busted a couple of ribs and they haven’t quite healed yet.”
He coughed suddenly and Cardonez realized how dry his throat must be. Reaching over to a bedside table, she picked up a plastic tumbler. “Here, drink this.”
He gratefully took it from her and drank deeply. “How long have I been out?,” he asked her between gulps.
“They brought you in four days ago and they’ve taken you out a few times since then. Interrogation, I think.”
Huntington nodded and passed her back the empty glass. “Yes, I remember some of it. What the hell was it that took a chunk out of me?”
“Something called a Mugato. Offenhouse imported it from some backwater planet as a guard dog. He even had it surgically altered so that it could live in a vacuum for short periods of time.”
“Effective guard dog,” he said, glancing under the sheet and frowning slightly.
“It’s okay. I didn’t peek,” Cardonez said, smiling. “There are some clothes in the dresser for you.”
“My boots?”
“Gone. Offenhouse delighted in telling me about all of the little toys that he discovered in the heels of your boots. And the ones that he found in the lining of your clothes too.”
Huntington ran his fingers through his hair. “So they got everything. Typical,” he said. Suddenly he frowned and glanced at Cardonez. “Who the hell is Offenhouse?”
Cardonez smiled. “Well, I assumed that you came here looking for me and I was looking for him. It’s the real person behind a man named Patek.”
“The Ferengi businessman. Yeah, Tyrell put me onto him.”
“Well, he’s not a Ferengi. Would you believe that he’s a megalomaniac Human from the Twentieth Century with a plot to buy the Ferengi Alliance?”
Huntington sighed. “It seems like I have a lot of catching up to do.”
Cardonez fetched another two glasses of water and then she began to fill in the blanks. After she had explained everything, including the fact that she had barely been allowed out of the room since he had been captured. Huntington decided that a shower might be in order. Wrapping a sheet around his waist, he grabbed clothes from the dresser, blue trousers, a sweater, and matching plimsolls before he headed into the shower.
The hot water felt good against his aching body and the only thing that he missed was a razor. The stubble would have to stay on his face for now. His sides ached and the bite mark beneath the waterproof bandage itched. Why they hadn’t used a dermal regenerator on it, he didn’t know. Then again, he still found it curious that he and Cardonez were still alive.
After a long shower, he got dressed and he stepped outside, just in time to see one of the Ferengi twins clasping binders onto Cardonez’s wrists. His brother stood off to one side with two other Ferengi. All of them were armed and they all wore those ludicrous orange jumpsuits.
“Are we going on a day out?,” he asked.
“Shut up and put your hands out,” said the brother that was closer to Cardonez.
Huntington smiled while he did what he was told and let the Ferengi place the binders on him. “So, are you a tennis fan? Or is it your brother?,” he asked him.
For an instant, the Ferengi was taken aback by his question and Huntington knew that they hadn’t expected him to remember that. A sly grin crept across his face. “Oh, that was me,” he said proudly.
“Nice backhand,” he said as pleasantly as if he was really talking about tennis. The Ferengi laughed. “Just bear in mind that the game isn’t over,” Huntington added, injecting as much menace as he could into his words for a man with his hands bound.
“Just try something, please?,” asked the other brother, fingering the butt of his gun.
“Nah,” said Huntington. “Not just yet.”
This caused the Ferengi to laugh even harder before they ushered both Starfleet officers out of the doorn and down to Offenhouse’s lair. It was no different to the last time that Cardonez was there. The only change was in Offenhouse who was wearing a darker suit. His hair was slicked back somehow in a perverse mirror image of Huntington.
“Please sit down,” he said affably.
Cardonez and Huntington were prodded towards one of the sofas and sat down, side-by-side. “So this is the part where you explain your plan no doubt?,” he asked. The twin with the tennis fixation stood to his right side.
Offenhouse regarded him with a look of distaste. “You know, I’ve never cared much for Brits,” he said. “Too pompous by half. Take Picard, for example.”
“Picard’s ancestry is actually Ferengi,” said Cardonez.
“Well, he sounds English,” said Offenhouse, his usual prop of a glass of scotch in his hand,” and so do you.”
“Well, actually, I was born on the Moon, but I understand that you’re a little behind the times.”
“Try a lot behind the times. He’s an anachronism. Mankind gave up lusting after profit, centuries ago,” Cardonez said.
“Perhaps, but it will soon be time to reawaken Mankind’s lust. Or did you really think that I would stop at the Ferengi Alliance?,” he asked them.
“I would tell you that you’re mad but I usually get beaten up if I say that,” said Huntington. “So I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Wise move,” said Offenhouse. “You killed a lot of my best men. It was difficult to keep you alive.”
Huntington cast a glance sideways before sneering. “If they were your best men, then I don’t see you taking over a corner shop. Let alone an Empire.”
The Ferengi standing near him cuffed him across the back of the head. “Shut up!”
Offenhouse merely laughed. “As I’ve explained to Captain Cardonez here countless times, I don’t intend to overthrow the current Ferengi government. I intend to buy it out.”
“And I’ve told you that you can’t have the latinum for that,” Isabel said. She knew that Huntington was up to something. He was far too chipper for a man that was facing death or worse. She was ready to move when he did. If she was going to die, it would be on her feet, struggling to survive.
“Ah, but in a few hours, I’ll have more than enough. You see, I’m going to make my own.”
Cardonez and Huntington laughed together. “Latinum can’t be replicated,” said Isabel.
“Actually, it can but it takes an awful expenditure of time and energy that makes the process worthless. I’ve invested heavily in an alternative.”
“You know those beans aren’t really magic,” said Huntington. “You should have kept the cow.”
Offenhouse ignored him. Instead, he placed his glass down, out of the reach of his prisoners and picked up his remote. He didn’t point it at the blank viewscreen. He pointed it at the ceiling. With a loud groan, a section of the ceiling split apart and, seconds later, a metal cradle was lowered to an inch above the floor. Sitting in the cradle was a simple, metallic torpedo-shaped object. Attached to it was a blocky device with a display and a control panel.
“A bomb?,” asked Cardonez. “You’re going to make money with a bomb?”
“Oh, this isn’t a bomb. In fact, this is more of a myth, a legend. A discarded piece of history, just like me.” Offenhouse smiled.
“The suspense is killing me,” said Adam.
Offenhouse walked up to the device and paused. After a second, he punched a command into the keypad and the display lit up. Now it showed numbers and an obvious countdown sequence that was set to start at sixty minutes. He turned towards the Starfleet officers. “You’ve never heard of the Genesis Device?,” he asked with a flourish.
That question got their attention. Before they had seen Offenhouse as a grubby little industrialist with a nebulous money-making scheme. Now he was potentially a very dangerous foe.
“Genesis doesn’t exist,” Cardonez said,” and even if it did, no power would use it. Not even the Romulans.”
“Oh, it does exist,” Offenhouse said, patting the device gently. “I know that all of the Genesis research was banned after the Khitomer Accords were established, but it’s amazing what you can do if the mood takes you and you have the cash. Carol Marcus’ unfinished autobiography, for example, or the computer core of a Klingon Bird-of-Prey that was fished out of San Francisco Bay. throw in a few embittered scientists stymied in their research by Khitomer and voila!”
Finally the true nature of Offenhouse’s plan became clear. “Relatrix,” Huntington said. “You’re going to use Genesis on Relatrix.”
“Give that man a cigar,” Offenhouse said. He pointed the control at the floor and another section split apart, leaving a hole more than wide enough for the cradle to descend into “I’ll shortly be activating the timer and sixty minutes later, Relatrix will be reborn as a planet awash with rivers of latinum.”
Cardonez stood. “You can’t do it,” she said. “The people. There are thousands of people on this planet.” The Ferengi twin that was closest to her pushed her back down into her seat.
“Forty-seven thousand, six hundred, and thirty-one, the last time that we checked,” Offenhouse said. “It’s regrettable but this is no other way.”
“You know that people will figure it out,” said Huntington. “The planet that you own just happens to miraculously transform into a pot of gold. I don’t think so.”
“Anyways, Genesis doesn’t work. It uses protomatter and it’s unstable. Your latinum will be useless to you,” said Cardonez, annoyed that she had descended to the level of trying to reason with a madman.
“You’re both correct and wrong at the same time. Yes, protomatter is a problem but times change. One of the scientists that I’ve employed has discovered a way to stabilize the protomatter and my latinum will last for a lifetime. This does leave the problem that Mister Huntington so accurately painted thought and so, in the heart of the new Relatrix, will be an unstable core awash with uncontrolled protomatter. I have three converted D’Kora-class ships nearby that are just waiting to swoop in and load up their cargo bays with enough latinum to fulfill all of my needs. Within a few hours, the protomatter in the planet’s core will destroy the planet.”
“Leaving no trace of what really happened. Just the residue of a failed Genesis experiment.”
“But why Relatrix?,” asked Cardonez. “Why kill all of these people when you could use an uninhabited world?”
“Because every Hitler needs a Reichstag Fire,” said Huntington.
“Yes, very perspective,” said Offenhouse. “You see, I won’t just rise to Nagus-hood on wealth alone. I’ll also ride in on a wave of paranoia and fear. The Ferengi Alliance has been attacked after all and by whom? Why, the very people that it was closest to, the Federation.” He smiled again with the cold smile of an alligator.
“And you’ll prove this how?,” asked Huntington.
“Oh, it’s much easier than I originally hoped. You see, originally, I was planning to plant evidence indicating that a Federation ship was nearby… and then you two bumbled into my hands.”
“Uh-oh,” said Isabel.
“Quite. Already the remains of your novel little runabout has been collected. They will be scattered near the edge of this star system, along with the remains of your bodies. Two renegade Starfleet officers, each of them acting without any official sanction, and killed while escaping after their cowardly attack on a Ferengi world.”
Huntington knew that he was running out of time. He needed a distraction and soon. Because whether this man’s plan succeeded or not, he and Cardonez would be just as dead. As it was though, none of the Ferengi were relaxing their guard at all.
“Insanity doesn’t do you any justice,” said Cardonez. “Someone will find out the truth.”
“Who?,” asked Offenhouse. “The only man who knows what kind of mission that you’re on is, by your own accounts under interrogation, a spy. The Machiavelian head of a secret organization. He’ll be a very convincing witness.” He yawned. “Face it. We used every drug on you so we know everything that you know. No one else knows where you are. John Wayne isn’t about to ride over the hill, guns a-blazing to rescue you.”
The viewscreen activated out of the blue and the face of a crumpled old Ferengi appeared. “Offenhouse, we’re in trouble,” he told the older Human.
Offenhouse frowned. “Fetta, what do you mean, trouble?”
“A Federation starship is entering orbit.”
Cardonez and Huntington exchanged looks.
“It’s of no relevance,” he said. “Destroy it. It will merely add to the illusion.”
“Yes, sir,” said the Ferengi named Feta and the screen went dark.
When it went dark, Huntington made his move. The guard was as distracted as they were ever likely to get. The small laser cutter dropped out of his sleeve and into his right palm. It was no wider than a strand of hair. The tiny black device had been secreted within the hair on the back of his head and it had been completely missed when they stripped him of his other toys. The laser cutter was limited since its housing only had just enough energy for a single short-range blast of energy. It was quite enough to snap the linking plate between each of his wrists.
He moved like lightning, swinging to his right. He punched hard with his left first, right into the tenderest part of the Ferengi standing next to him. As the man squealed, Huntington grabbed his disruptor. “New balls, please,” he quipped and rammed the weapon up hard into the Ferengi’s face.
Simultaneously, Captain Cardonez rolled sideways off of the soda, clumsily knocking the second brother to the ground.
“Get them!,” shouted Offenhouse and the two other guards suddenly ran towards the melee going on near the sofas.
Huntington was ready for them. He had the disruptor in a two-handed grip now while the Ferengi twin fell to the floor. The two oncoming guards hesitated for a fraction of a second. The Starfleet Commander didn’t and two shots lanced outward, downing both of the guards. He spun around fast on his heels to help Cardonez but he found out that she was doing quite all right on her own. Her momentum had enabled her to get astride the Ferengi and now she hit him hard across the face. Both of her fists were clenched together into one powerful swing. He was unconscious but she followed it up with a second blow.
“Stop!,” called out a sudden voice.
Isabel froze before she could strike the Ferengi again. Huntington half-turned around but he knew that he would never bring his gun to bear in time.
Offenhouse was standing by the Genesis device and he was holding Huntington’s phaser in his hand. “Well-played, Commander, but I have the upper hand once again,” he said. “Now drop the gun.”
Huntington sighed. “You know, this used to be a lot more fun when I was younger,” he said. “Why don’t you drop your gun? Or rather, drop my gun.”
“You’re in no position to threaten me, Commander. If you so much as lift your weapon, I’ll fire. That goes for you too, Cardonez.”
Cardonez stopped reaching for the unconscious Ferengi’s gun. “Give it up, Offenhouse. There’s a ship in orbit.”
“A ship that’s outnumbered three-to-one,” Offenhouse said through gritted teeth. “Commander, I told you to drop your gun.”
“I know,” said the Commander,” but I really can’t do that.”
“Adam?,” asked Isabel.
“Don’t be a fool,” said Offenhouse.
Huntington smiled wanly. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he joked and then he started to bring his gun to bear.
Offenhouse smiled and pulled the trigger.
The flash was bright and for a moment, Cardonez was blinded but she still dived for the gun. As her vision returned, she rolled awkwardly on the floor and came up, ready to shoot.
Huntungton stood in the same spot, still smiling. Offenhouse lay in a crumpled heap by the side of his pride and joy.
“What the…,” she muttered.
The Security Chief walked over to Offenhouse’s body, kneeled down and picked up his weapon. “Fingerprint scanner in the trigger housing sends an electrical charge through the pistol grip if the fingerprint isn’t authorized,” he said, absently. “No one uses my gun but me.”
He walked over to Cardonez, helping her up before he used his phaser to snap her bonds as well.
“Now what?,” she asked him.
“Now we get their guns before any of them wake up,” he said and the two of them quickly gathered up the other guard’s weapons, Cardonez took one for herself and they disposed of the other three.
“A Federation ship? It must be Tyrell’s people. How did they find us?”
“Who knows?,” said Huntington with a shrug. We had better find a way to contact…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as the sound of the cradle moving again cut through the air.
They turned around just in time to see Ralph Offenhouse, clinging to the cradle while it descended. Huntington managed to get his head in his sights but before he could fire, disruptor beams fired into the sofa closest to them, destroying it. The two Starfleet officers swung to their left, targeting the lone Ferengin who was standing in the nearby doorway. They both fired at once, dropping him where he stood.
Dashing over to the hole in the ground, they looked down and saw a small pinprick of light in the darkness. Cardonez was about to shoot when Huntington stopped her. “Don’t fire. I have no idea who unstable a Genesis Device is but we can’t take the chance of it detonating.”
“So what do we do?”
“You go find a communicator and contact that starship. I’m going after Offenhouse.”
“You give orders far too easily,” she said. “Just remember who the Captain is here.”
“You’re on a leave of absence. That means I have operational control.” He smiled.
“Okay, good luck,” she said before running off towards a nearby staircase.
Huntington jabbed his phaser into the waistband of his trousers before tearing his jumper off. Ripping it in half, he wrapped one half around each hand before he reached for the single cable and began his climb downward.
More great action adventure. And Offenhouse is proving to be a spry old villain...
Thanks!! rbs
Thanks!! rbs
Epilogue
“Captain Masafumi, this is the last warning that we will give,” said the Ferengi Captain, Fetta, whose face was looming large on the viewscreen. “You are violating Ferengi territory. Turn around and go back the way that you came or we will be forced to open fire.”
Yashiro Masafumi shifted uncomfortably in the command chair. Jabbing down hard on the control panel on his armrest, Fetta disappeared from the main viewscreen and was replaced by the sight of three Ferengi D’Kora-class marauders sitting between them and the darkened world that was Relatrix.
“Tactical assessment,” he ordered.
Above him at Tactical, the Acting Chief of Security, Lieutenant (JG) Paul Carson clasped both hands to the wooden horseshoe-shaped railing and sighed. “Not good. Individually, those ships are the equal of us in terms of weapons and shields. Together, they can rip us apart.”
“Anything to add, Mister Kandro?,” asked Masafumi.
The Betazoid didn;t answer him straight away. He continued to scan the information that his sensors were displaying before him.
“Any time, Lieutenant.”
“One second, Captain,” he replied.
“We’re being hailed again,” said Carson.
“Lieutenant Kehen, prepare a new course out of this system. It looks like we might have to get some breathing room.”
“Maybe not,” said Kandro. “I think I’ve got something.”
“Go ahead,” said Masafumi.
Testudo’s Operations Officer swung around his seat to face his Captain. “Lieutenant Carson is correct. We’re just about a match for one ordinary D’Kora. However, they aren’t ordinary.”
“Go on.”
“D’Kora-class ships are like any other Ferengi vessel where large portions of the ship are given over to cargo holds, making the ship a heavily-armed freighter. However, these ships have almost double the cargo-carrying capacity of their brethren.”
“How does the help us?,” asked Kehen from the helm console. “You want them to deliver something for us?”
“Very funny,” Kandro said. “It’s not just the cargo space that’s interesting. It’s what they took out to provide for the extra room.”
“They’re powering weapons,” reported Carson.
“Skip to the point, Mister Kandro,” said Masafumi. He was moments away from telling Zia to get them the hell out of here.
Kandro smiled. “Their port lateral sensor array,” he said proudly.
Masafumi laughed. “I hope that whatever they were planning on carrying was worth it. Lieutenant Carson, confirm Mister Kandro’s findings.”
“Confirmed. The stupid…” He paused before saying,” Yeah, all three of them are the same. Each of them has a substantial blind spot in their aft port quarters.”
“Transmit tactical data to the helm. Zia, this will be tricky and it’ll depend greatly on you. Do you understand what you have to do?”
“Yeah, I get it,” she said. On the console in front of her, a tactical display showed a green dot, Testudo, and she was surrounded by three red dots. Each of the red dots had blue-shaped wedges radiating out from them. “I have to try and keep us inside the blind spots of three ships at once.” She cracked her knuckles. “No problem!”
“Shall I hail the Ferengi?,” asked Carson.
“What, and spoil the surprise?,” asked Masafumi. “Zia, get us moving. Mister Carson, prepare to fire.”
****
Isabel Cardonez had taken the stairs, two at a time, and she now stood in the corridor that her room had branched off from. There were several other doors and she suspected that she would have to check them all in order to find any communications equipment. As she had climbed the stairs, she had remembered Offenhouse’s viewscreen in the room below but she had dismissed it. He had no doubt taken the controller with him.
Checking the first door, she found nothing but a copy of her room. The next door was even less interesting, being just a closet. When she stepped into the third room, she hit pay dirt. There were several desks loaded with computer equipment and she quickly recognized a communications array.
Grabbing one of the two swivel chairs in front of the desks, she laid her disruptor down on the desk and began to try and access the system. Moments later, she was so engrossed in her task that she barely heard the door slide open behind her. It was only when she heard deep breathing behind her that she realized that someone was three. Quick as a flash, she reached for her weapon but she was too late. The blade of a bat’leth slammed down hard, shattering the disruptor’s casing before ripping it from the desktop and hurling it into a distant corner of the room.
Cardonez leaped out of the chair and turned around, prepared to face her attacker with nothing but her unarmed combat training left to defend herself with.
When she saw her attacker, she had to fight the urge to giggle.
It was Sirni, Offenhouse’s maid.
A small old Ferengi woman, her gray maid’s outfit was seemingly incongruous with the Klingon sword in her hands. Cardonez was about to try and reason with the woman to tell her to put the sword down before she hurt herself when she spun it deftly between her hands before striking a classic fighting pose, the tip of the blade touching the floor.
“I see that Offenhouse had an extra bodyguard the whole time,” she said. “Whatever he’s paying you, it can’t be that much…”
“The money is irrelevant,” she said and seeing Isabel’s shocked expression, she continued,” I am a Ferengi woman. Profit doesn’t concern me. I was happy with my life on Ferenginar until Rom came along and spoiled it. Do you have any idea how degrading it is to have to wear clothes?!” She screamed when she hefted the bat’leth up and charged forward.
Cardonez grabbed the only weapon that was available to her, the chair that she had been sitting in. Luckily, it wasn’t fitted to the floor, nor was it very heavy. The shock from when the bat’leth impacted on the chair sent jarring shudders up both of her arms and forced her back against the desk. She could already see the plastic-molded chair beginning to crack. So, when Sirni pulled the weapon back in order to strike again, Cardonez threw the chair at her and ducked out of the way.
Sirni was already mid-swing and her attack shattered the chair into several pieces that fell to the ground.
Cardonez was now on the ground, frantically backtracking towards the desk when Sirni rose up over her. “You’ve interfered with Mister Offenhouse’s affairs for the last time!,” she cried out and raised her bat’leth once again.
Isabel looked left and right and the only thing that was easy to reach was the second swivel chair. Scrambling across the floor, she reached for it just as Sirni began her downward swing. With time running out, she grasped the central shaft at the base and heaved the chair across the floor and into Sirni. The old Ferengi woman screamed when it struck her leg and it did just enough to put her off of her aim. The point of the bat’leth impacted just a few centimeters from the Captain’s head. Sirni began to pull it out but she didn’t give her the chance. She punched upwards hard, knocking the old woman backwards and away from her weapon. Jumping to her feet, Cardonez swiveled on the ball of her right foot and it connected with a vicious roundhouse kick to the other woman’s head.
Sirni staggered backwards into the door but she sprang back quickly, surprising the Starfleet officer. Reaching behind her, the old woman drew a small dagger and charged once more.
Cardonez ducked down and grabbed the bat’leth. Jerking it out of the ground, she swung hard while the other woman ran into range. The knife was suddenly airborne, along with two of Sirni’s fingers. As the old woman screamed, she sidestepped her and brought the blunt end of the Klingon sword down to strike Sirni hard across the back of her skull. The other woman went down like a sack of potatoes.
Cardonez waited for several seconds, ready to defend herself once more but it was obvious that the old woman was out for the count. Keeping the bat’leth by her side, she grabbed the intact chair and made for the communications array.
****
The most dangerous part had been dropping down beside the Genesis Device. If Offenhouse was lying in wait, that would be when he would strike. Adam Huntingtoin had no choice when he dropped into the small cave, his phaser at the ready.
Nothing.
Offenhouse was obviously long gone.
The only exit from the cave was another tunnel that was well-lit with roof lights. There was no sign of his quarry.
Turning his attention back to the Genesis Device, he was horrified to discover that not only was the counter active. It was counting down from thirteen minutes instead of sixty. Running his eyes over the device, he spotted a gap in the mechanism that showed that something had been removed. It had to be some sort of key that operated the device and without it, he couldn’t stop the countdown and save forty-seven thousand people.
As he started off down the tunnel, Huntington adjusted several settings on his phaser and mused that he really should go back to the quiet life of Starfleet Academy after this.
****
“Shields are holding,” said Carson while the Testudo shook from a weapons impact.
“Zia,” said Masafumi.
“Hey, I’m trying,” she replied. “There are three of them and they’re starting to wise up.”
“Lieutenant, target the lead vessel with all weapons.”
“Ready.”
“Fire.”
While the starship ducked and weaved low to evade incoming fire and stay within the blindspots of the attacking vessels, she paused momentarily and unleashed a barrage of firepower at one of the Ferengi ships. Bracketed by phaser fire, quantum torpedoes impacted hard against the other ship’s shields.
“Direct hit,” reported Carson.
“They’re showing heavy damage to their shields,” said Kandro. “The other two ships are flanking us though.”
Testudo shuddered once more.
“Shields are failing,” Carson informed them.
“Zia, get ready to get us out of here,” Masafumi said. On the main viewscreen ahead of them, the lead ship was turning to face them.
“Captain, we’re getting a transmission being beamed from the planet by those three ships,” reported Kandro, his dark eyes on his display.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Aye, sir. It’s audio only.”
The Bridge fell silent when a familiar voice echoed across it. “I say again. This is Captain Isabel Cardonez. Federation forces have seized control of Ralph Offenhouse’s villa. We have him and his doomsday weapon. An alert had already gone out to all Ferengi ships in the vicinity to apprehend the three renegade ships in orbit. Stand down and prepare to be boarded.”
“Lieutenant?,” asked Masafumi.
“I’ve got them, sir. Sensors show two more Ferengi ships on course for this system and they indicate that they’re Ferengi military vessels,” the Operations Officer said,” and I think that our friends out there have noticed them as well.” On the viewscreen, the Ferengi ships turned tail and jumped to warp.
Yashiro Masafumi let out a sigh. “Stand down from Red Alert,” he ordered before adding a smile,” and get me Captain Cardonez.”
****
Lieutenant Commander Adam Huntington was shivering. The cold in the tunnel was prickling at his bare chest. At least, there was air down here and he surmised that this tunnel was fed by the same life-support system as the villa. As he jogged alone, he occasionally passed by nebulous shapes that were encased in the ice. He was wary but he couldn’t afford to slow down with so much at stake.
There was a sudden bend up ahead and he dashed around it. Twenty meters ahead of him, Offenhouse stood next to a small escape rocket pointed towards another tunnel carved into the roof.
“Hold it, Offenhouse!,” he shouted, walking calmly towards him and ignoring the nebulous form on his left side. Offenhouse did as he requested and raised his hands in surrender. The smile on his face worried Huntington though.
“Where’s the control key for the bomb?,” he asked him.
“I’m sorry,” Offenhouse said before dipping his hand into his pocket.
“Slowly,” the Security Chief said, gesturing with his gun.
Offenhouse gave a small nod and slowed his movements. When his hand reappeared, it was holding the elusive element. “You mean this?”
“Yes, that,” said Huntington. “Now we’re going to go back and shut off the Genesis Device.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Offenhouse.
“Don’t be stupid. You have no more cards to play…”
Then the sound of a door sliding open behind him told Huntington that the old man still had a joker left in his pack. He turned around, fast, even before he heard the low growl. The Mugato was two strides away from him and closing fast and he didn’t hesitate. He opened fire, vaporizing the creature in its tracks. He knew that it had been a distraction and nothing more when he began to turn back towards Offenhouse. That was when he was suddenly struck by a large force, knocking him off of his feet and to the cold ground below. He felt the impact a moment before he heard the defending roar that echoed through the tunnel.
As he flipped over onto his back, Huntington was shivering even more but it wasn’t from the cold. The single bullet had torn through his right shoulder, shattering his collarbone on its way. Offenhouse stood triumphantly against an ice wall with a silver handgun in his right hand.
“Colt 45,” he said, hefting the weapon. “Sometimes, the old ways are the best.”
Huntington knew that he was going into shock. His vision was already starting to blur and his body was going numb. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his phaser lying on the ground, a few meters away and agonizingly out of reach.
“Offenhouse, there’s still time to stop it,” he spluttered. “The people…”
“My dear Commander, if I was going to let guilt sway me, I would have done so, months ago. I am resigned to their deaths, but rest assured, I will make the Federation pay.” Then he laughed.
“Won’t… You won’t get away with it. Some… someone will find out.”
“Last words of a dying man?,” Offenhouse asked him. “I told Cardonez that I can’t be stopped. Even death can’t stop me. Now, then talking of death.” He pointed his pistol at Huntington’s head.
“Offenhouse…”
“Very well. Final words if you must.”
Huntington smiled. “You only die twice,” he said before screaming a single word into the ether. “Amazon!”
If Offenhouse heard the tiny click that came from Huntington’s downed phaser, it wasn’t apparent. He cocked back the hammer and tightened his finger on the trigger. Just as the fallen phaser with its barrel pointed almost his way, it acknowledged the verbal code word that was given and fired. The energy beam lanced out past Offenhouse’s ankle and burrowed into the wall behind him. It lasted for only a second but it was enough to boil the solid matter back into gas which soared out over Offenhouse. Blinded, he fired anyway, missing Huntington’s head by a wide margin and blasting a chuck out of the wall instead.
Choking, Offenhouse fell to the ground, his pistol falling from his outstretched fingers. He had breathed too deeply of the concentrated noxious gasses that had been released after centuries of frozen captivity and the damage was irreparable. Huntington listened to his death rattle until the body became suddenly still.
Shaking his head to try and stay conscious, Adam managed to crawl over to the fallen man. The gas had dissipated now and he reached out, grabbing the control element from Offenhouse’s hand. Summoning his strength, he wasn’t aware that he still had it. He grabbed at the wall with his other hand and managed to haul himself to his feet. His shoulder screamed out in pain when he leaned against the wall but it actually helped. The pain focused his mind and he began to move, slowly at first before gaining momentum. Soon he was around the corner and staggering along, he allowed his shoulder to lean against the wall, every so often. Partly it was to keep his balance but it was also to induce another shot of pain.
He knew that he wasn’t going to make it though. There wasn’t enough time. Still, he moved. Forced on by duty, his love for his family, and in the end, by sheer bloody mindedness.
The Genesis Device lurched up in front of him. Falling heavily onto the cold metal of the cradle, he blinked to clear his vision and to look at the counter. There were thirty seconds left.
His arm felt like lead but he moved it anyway, slamming the control element into place before reaching over to the control panel. If there was any kind of code, he was done for but as soon as he hit the deactivation circuit, he saw the counter stop at ten seconds.
Smiling, Huntington let the darkness claim him at last. As he tumbled to the ground, his last thought was one of disappointment. In the movies, the hero always stopped the clock with far less time to spare.
When he opened his eyes, the last face that he expected to see was that of Doctor Hollem Azahn.
“Doctor?,” he muttered, his throat dry and croaky.
“Just relax, Commander. You’re safe aboard Testudo and healing well.”
“Testudo?,” he asked befuddled.
“Believe it or not, yes,” Isabel Cardonez said, coming into view. She was no longer wearing the white dress that she had been wearing earlier, but she was now dressed in a dark blue blouse and black trousers. “It seems that they found out where we were. It’s lucky that they did. They helped me to convince Offenhouse’s ships that Federation troops had seized the villa. Then when we found you, Doctor Hollem was able to save your life.”
“Well, the gunshot wound was quite severe but I’m sure that a Ferengi doctor could have done equally as well,” said Hollem. “Still, you’re okay now. Another couple of days and you’ll be back on duty.”
“How… How the hell did the Testudo find us?,” asked Huntington.
“That didn’t come easy,” came another voice when Yashiro Masafumi stepped into view. “However, certain parties severely underestimated the ingenuity and skill of this ship’s crew.”
Cardonez frowned. Maybe it was her imagination but she swore that she had heard a hint of… something in Masafumi’s voice.
“I suppose you expect a thank you?,” Huntington asked her and this time, she knew that she wasn’t imagining it.
Masafumi shook his head. “No, I didn’t expect that,” he said before he turned towards the door. “I’ll be on the Bridge if anyone should want me.” He strode out of Sickbay without another look.
Cardonez glanced down at Huntington and she was shocked to see that his face was a mask of rage.
“Adam?”
“Don’t ask,” he replied curtly. “Just don’t ask.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be in my…” She stopped herself and added before she reached down and clasped Huntington’s hand. “I’ll be in guest quarters if anyone needs me. Thanks for coming after me.”
He grinned in reply. “Anytime, Captain.”
“It’s just Isabel,” she said with a sad smile. “We’ll talk later.” She left Sickbay.
“Well, it’s nice to have the Captain back,” the Bajoran Chief Medical Officer said with a smile. “Maybe things can get back to normal around here now.”
“I doubt that things will ever get back to normal,” Huntington said. “Doctor, can you set up a subspace link for me?”
“Sure. Contacting home?,” Hollem asked with another smile.
“Yes, and I need to talk with someone at Starfleet Academy as well.”
The End.
“Captain Masafumi, this is the last warning that we will give,” said the Ferengi Captain, Fetta, whose face was looming large on the viewscreen. “You are violating Ferengi territory. Turn around and go back the way that you came or we will be forced to open fire.”
Yashiro Masafumi shifted uncomfortably in the command chair. Jabbing down hard on the control panel on his armrest, Fetta disappeared from the main viewscreen and was replaced by the sight of three Ferengi D’Kora-class marauders sitting between them and the darkened world that was Relatrix.
“Tactical assessment,” he ordered.
Above him at Tactical, the Acting Chief of Security, Lieutenant (JG) Paul Carson clasped both hands to the wooden horseshoe-shaped railing and sighed. “Not good. Individually, those ships are the equal of us in terms of weapons and shields. Together, they can rip us apart.”
“Anything to add, Mister Kandro?,” asked Masafumi.
The Betazoid didn;t answer him straight away. He continued to scan the information that his sensors were displaying before him.
“Any time, Lieutenant.”
“One second, Captain,” he replied.
“We’re being hailed again,” said Carson.
“Lieutenant Kehen, prepare a new course out of this system. It looks like we might have to get some breathing room.”
“Maybe not,” said Kandro. “I think I’ve got something.”
“Go ahead,” said Masafumi.
Testudo’s Operations Officer swung around his seat to face his Captain. “Lieutenant Carson is correct. We’re just about a match for one ordinary D’Kora. However, they aren’t ordinary.”
“Go on.”
“D’Kora-class ships are like any other Ferengi vessel where large portions of the ship are given over to cargo holds, making the ship a heavily-armed freighter. However, these ships have almost double the cargo-carrying capacity of their brethren.”
“How does the help us?,” asked Kehen from the helm console. “You want them to deliver something for us?”
“Very funny,” Kandro said. “It’s not just the cargo space that’s interesting. It’s what they took out to provide for the extra room.”
“They’re powering weapons,” reported Carson.
“Skip to the point, Mister Kandro,” said Masafumi. He was moments away from telling Zia to get them the hell out of here.
Kandro smiled. “Their port lateral sensor array,” he said proudly.
Masafumi laughed. “I hope that whatever they were planning on carrying was worth it. Lieutenant Carson, confirm Mister Kandro’s findings.”
“Confirmed. The stupid…” He paused before saying,” Yeah, all three of them are the same. Each of them has a substantial blind spot in their aft port quarters.”
“Transmit tactical data to the helm. Zia, this will be tricky and it’ll depend greatly on you. Do you understand what you have to do?”
“Yeah, I get it,” she said. On the console in front of her, a tactical display showed a green dot, Testudo, and she was surrounded by three red dots. Each of the red dots had blue-shaped wedges radiating out from them. “I have to try and keep us inside the blind spots of three ships at once.” She cracked her knuckles. “No problem!”
“Shall I hail the Ferengi?,” asked Carson.
“What, and spoil the surprise?,” asked Masafumi. “Zia, get us moving. Mister Carson, prepare to fire.”
****
Isabel Cardonez had taken the stairs, two at a time, and she now stood in the corridor that her room had branched off from. There were several other doors and she suspected that she would have to check them all in order to find any communications equipment. As she had climbed the stairs, she had remembered Offenhouse’s viewscreen in the room below but she had dismissed it. He had no doubt taken the controller with him.
Checking the first door, she found nothing but a copy of her room. The next door was even less interesting, being just a closet. When she stepped into the third room, she hit pay dirt. There were several desks loaded with computer equipment and she quickly recognized a communications array.
Grabbing one of the two swivel chairs in front of the desks, she laid her disruptor down on the desk and began to try and access the system. Moments later, she was so engrossed in her task that she barely heard the door slide open behind her. It was only when she heard deep breathing behind her that she realized that someone was three. Quick as a flash, she reached for her weapon but she was too late. The blade of a bat’leth slammed down hard, shattering the disruptor’s casing before ripping it from the desktop and hurling it into a distant corner of the room.
Cardonez leaped out of the chair and turned around, prepared to face her attacker with nothing but her unarmed combat training left to defend herself with.
When she saw her attacker, she had to fight the urge to giggle.
It was Sirni, Offenhouse’s maid.
A small old Ferengi woman, her gray maid’s outfit was seemingly incongruous with the Klingon sword in her hands. Cardonez was about to try and reason with the woman to tell her to put the sword down before she hurt herself when she spun it deftly between her hands before striking a classic fighting pose, the tip of the blade touching the floor.
“I see that Offenhouse had an extra bodyguard the whole time,” she said. “Whatever he’s paying you, it can’t be that much…”
“The money is irrelevant,” she said and seeing Isabel’s shocked expression, she continued,” I am a Ferengi woman. Profit doesn’t concern me. I was happy with my life on Ferenginar until Rom came along and spoiled it. Do you have any idea how degrading it is to have to wear clothes?!” She screamed when she hefted the bat’leth up and charged forward.
Cardonez grabbed the only weapon that was available to her, the chair that she had been sitting in. Luckily, it wasn’t fitted to the floor, nor was it very heavy. The shock from when the bat’leth impacted on the chair sent jarring shudders up both of her arms and forced her back against the desk. She could already see the plastic-molded chair beginning to crack. So, when Sirni pulled the weapon back in order to strike again, Cardonez threw the chair at her and ducked out of the way.
Sirni was already mid-swing and her attack shattered the chair into several pieces that fell to the ground.
Cardonez was now on the ground, frantically backtracking towards the desk when Sirni rose up over her. “You’ve interfered with Mister Offenhouse’s affairs for the last time!,” she cried out and raised her bat’leth once again.
Isabel looked left and right and the only thing that was easy to reach was the second swivel chair. Scrambling across the floor, she reached for it just as Sirni began her downward swing. With time running out, she grasped the central shaft at the base and heaved the chair across the floor and into Sirni. The old Ferengi woman screamed when it struck her leg and it did just enough to put her off of her aim. The point of the bat’leth impacted just a few centimeters from the Captain’s head. Sirni began to pull it out but she didn’t give her the chance. She punched upwards hard, knocking the old woman backwards and away from her weapon. Jumping to her feet, Cardonez swiveled on the ball of her right foot and it connected with a vicious roundhouse kick to the other woman’s head.
Sirni staggered backwards into the door but she sprang back quickly, surprising the Starfleet officer. Reaching behind her, the old woman drew a small dagger and charged once more.
Cardonez ducked down and grabbed the bat’leth. Jerking it out of the ground, she swung hard while the other woman ran into range. The knife was suddenly airborne, along with two of Sirni’s fingers. As the old woman screamed, she sidestepped her and brought the blunt end of the Klingon sword down to strike Sirni hard across the back of her skull. The other woman went down like a sack of potatoes.
Cardonez waited for several seconds, ready to defend herself once more but it was obvious that the old woman was out for the count. Keeping the bat’leth by her side, she grabbed the intact chair and made for the communications array.
****
The most dangerous part had been dropping down beside the Genesis Device. If Offenhouse was lying in wait, that would be when he would strike. Adam Huntingtoin had no choice when he dropped into the small cave, his phaser at the ready.
Nothing.
Offenhouse was obviously long gone.
The only exit from the cave was another tunnel that was well-lit with roof lights. There was no sign of his quarry.
Turning his attention back to the Genesis Device, he was horrified to discover that not only was the counter active. It was counting down from thirteen minutes instead of sixty. Running his eyes over the device, he spotted a gap in the mechanism that showed that something had been removed. It had to be some sort of key that operated the device and without it, he couldn’t stop the countdown and save forty-seven thousand people.
As he started off down the tunnel, Huntington adjusted several settings on his phaser and mused that he really should go back to the quiet life of Starfleet Academy after this.
****
“Shields are holding,” said Carson while the Testudo shook from a weapons impact.
“Zia,” said Masafumi.
“Hey, I’m trying,” she replied. “There are three of them and they’re starting to wise up.”
“Lieutenant, target the lead vessel with all weapons.”
“Ready.”
“Fire.”
While the starship ducked and weaved low to evade incoming fire and stay within the blindspots of the attacking vessels, she paused momentarily and unleashed a barrage of firepower at one of the Ferengi ships. Bracketed by phaser fire, quantum torpedoes impacted hard against the other ship’s shields.
“Direct hit,” reported Carson.
“They’re showing heavy damage to their shields,” said Kandro. “The other two ships are flanking us though.”
Testudo shuddered once more.
“Shields are failing,” Carson informed them.
“Zia, get ready to get us out of here,” Masafumi said. On the main viewscreen ahead of them, the lead ship was turning to face them.
“Captain, we’re getting a transmission being beamed from the planet by those three ships,” reported Kandro, his dark eyes on his display.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Aye, sir. It’s audio only.”
The Bridge fell silent when a familiar voice echoed across it. “I say again. This is Captain Isabel Cardonez. Federation forces have seized control of Ralph Offenhouse’s villa. We have him and his doomsday weapon. An alert had already gone out to all Ferengi ships in the vicinity to apprehend the three renegade ships in orbit. Stand down and prepare to be boarded.”
“Lieutenant?,” asked Masafumi.
“I’ve got them, sir. Sensors show two more Ferengi ships on course for this system and they indicate that they’re Ferengi military vessels,” the Operations Officer said,” and I think that our friends out there have noticed them as well.” On the viewscreen, the Ferengi ships turned tail and jumped to warp.
Yashiro Masafumi let out a sigh. “Stand down from Red Alert,” he ordered before adding a smile,” and get me Captain Cardonez.”
****
Lieutenant Commander Adam Huntington was shivering. The cold in the tunnel was prickling at his bare chest. At least, there was air down here and he surmised that this tunnel was fed by the same life-support system as the villa. As he jogged alone, he occasionally passed by nebulous shapes that were encased in the ice. He was wary but he couldn’t afford to slow down with so much at stake.
There was a sudden bend up ahead and he dashed around it. Twenty meters ahead of him, Offenhouse stood next to a small escape rocket pointed towards another tunnel carved into the roof.
“Hold it, Offenhouse!,” he shouted, walking calmly towards him and ignoring the nebulous form on his left side. Offenhouse did as he requested and raised his hands in surrender. The smile on his face worried Huntington though.
“Where’s the control key for the bomb?,” he asked him.
“I’m sorry,” Offenhouse said before dipping his hand into his pocket.
“Slowly,” the Security Chief said, gesturing with his gun.
Offenhouse gave a small nod and slowed his movements. When his hand reappeared, it was holding the elusive element. “You mean this?”
“Yes, that,” said Huntington. “Now we’re going to go back and shut off the Genesis Device.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Offenhouse.
“Don’t be stupid. You have no more cards to play…”
Then the sound of a door sliding open behind him told Huntington that the old man still had a joker left in his pack. He turned around, fast, even before he heard the low growl. The Mugato was two strides away from him and closing fast and he didn’t hesitate. He opened fire, vaporizing the creature in its tracks. He knew that it had been a distraction and nothing more when he began to turn back towards Offenhouse. That was when he was suddenly struck by a large force, knocking him off of his feet and to the cold ground below. He felt the impact a moment before he heard the defending roar that echoed through the tunnel.
As he flipped over onto his back, Huntington was shivering even more but it wasn’t from the cold. The single bullet had torn through his right shoulder, shattering his collarbone on its way. Offenhouse stood triumphantly against an ice wall with a silver handgun in his right hand.
“Colt 45,” he said, hefting the weapon. “Sometimes, the old ways are the best.”
Huntington knew that he was going into shock. His vision was already starting to blur and his body was going numb. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his phaser lying on the ground, a few meters away and agonizingly out of reach.
“Offenhouse, there’s still time to stop it,” he spluttered. “The people…”
“My dear Commander, if I was going to let guilt sway me, I would have done so, months ago. I am resigned to their deaths, but rest assured, I will make the Federation pay.” Then he laughed.
“Won’t… You won’t get away with it. Some… someone will find out.”
“Last words of a dying man?,” Offenhouse asked him. “I told Cardonez that I can’t be stopped. Even death can’t stop me. Now, then talking of death.” He pointed his pistol at Huntington’s head.
“Offenhouse…”
“Very well. Final words if you must.”
Huntington smiled. “You only die twice,” he said before screaming a single word into the ether. “Amazon!”
If Offenhouse heard the tiny click that came from Huntington’s downed phaser, it wasn’t apparent. He cocked back the hammer and tightened his finger on the trigger. Just as the fallen phaser with its barrel pointed almost his way, it acknowledged the verbal code word that was given and fired. The energy beam lanced out past Offenhouse’s ankle and burrowed into the wall behind him. It lasted for only a second but it was enough to boil the solid matter back into gas which soared out over Offenhouse. Blinded, he fired anyway, missing Huntington’s head by a wide margin and blasting a chuck out of the wall instead.
Choking, Offenhouse fell to the ground, his pistol falling from his outstretched fingers. He had breathed too deeply of the concentrated noxious gasses that had been released after centuries of frozen captivity and the damage was irreparable. Huntington listened to his death rattle until the body became suddenly still.
Shaking his head to try and stay conscious, Adam managed to crawl over to the fallen man. The gas had dissipated now and he reached out, grabbing the control element from Offenhouse’s hand. Summoning his strength, he wasn’t aware that he still had it. He grabbed at the wall with his other hand and managed to haul himself to his feet. His shoulder screamed out in pain when he leaned against the wall but it actually helped. The pain focused his mind and he began to move, slowly at first before gaining momentum. Soon he was around the corner and staggering along, he allowed his shoulder to lean against the wall, every so often. Partly it was to keep his balance but it was also to induce another shot of pain.
He knew that he wasn’t going to make it though. There wasn’t enough time. Still, he moved. Forced on by duty, his love for his family, and in the end, by sheer bloody mindedness.
The Genesis Device lurched up in front of him. Falling heavily onto the cold metal of the cradle, he blinked to clear his vision and to look at the counter. There were thirty seconds left.
His arm felt like lead but he moved it anyway, slamming the control element into place before reaching over to the control panel. If there was any kind of code, he was done for but as soon as he hit the deactivation circuit, he saw the counter stop at ten seconds.
Smiling, Huntington let the darkness claim him at last. As he tumbled to the ground, his last thought was one of disappointment. In the movies, the hero always stopped the clock with far less time to spare.
When he opened his eyes, the last face that he expected to see was that of Doctor Hollem Azahn.
“Doctor?,” he muttered, his throat dry and croaky.
“Just relax, Commander. You’re safe aboard Testudo and healing well.”
“Testudo?,” he asked befuddled.
“Believe it or not, yes,” Isabel Cardonez said, coming into view. She was no longer wearing the white dress that she had been wearing earlier, but she was now dressed in a dark blue blouse and black trousers. “It seems that they found out where we were. It’s lucky that they did. They helped me to convince Offenhouse’s ships that Federation troops had seized the villa. Then when we found you, Doctor Hollem was able to save your life.”
“Well, the gunshot wound was quite severe but I’m sure that a Ferengi doctor could have done equally as well,” said Hollem. “Still, you’re okay now. Another couple of days and you’ll be back on duty.”
“How… How the hell did the Testudo find us?,” asked Huntington.
“That didn’t come easy,” came another voice when Yashiro Masafumi stepped into view. “However, certain parties severely underestimated the ingenuity and skill of this ship’s crew.”
Cardonez frowned. Maybe it was her imagination but she swore that she had heard a hint of… something in Masafumi’s voice.
“I suppose you expect a thank you?,” Huntington asked her and this time, she knew that she wasn’t imagining it.
Masafumi shook his head. “No, I didn’t expect that,” he said before he turned towards the door. “I’ll be on the Bridge if anyone should want me.” He strode out of Sickbay without another look.
Cardonez glanced down at Huntington and she was shocked to see that his face was a mask of rage.
“Adam?”
“Don’t ask,” he replied curtly. “Just don’t ask.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be in my…” She stopped herself and added before she reached down and clasped Huntington’s hand. “I’ll be in guest quarters if anyone needs me. Thanks for coming after me.”
He grinned in reply. “Anytime, Captain.”
“It’s just Isabel,” she said with a sad smile. “We’ll talk later.” She left Sickbay.
“Well, it’s nice to have the Captain back,” the Bajoran Chief Medical Officer said with a smile. “Maybe things can get back to normal around here now.”
“I doubt that things will ever get back to normal,” Huntington said. “Doctor, can you set up a subspace link for me?”
“Sure. Contacting home?,” Hollem asked with another smile.
“Yes, and I need to talk with someone at Starfleet Academy as well.”
The End.
Star Trek: Into the Void
Episode Seventeen - ‘Pack Up Your Troubles’
By Jack D. Elmlinger
Prologue
13;47 Ship Time.
Valian Kandro slept deeply in spite of the fact that for the last forty-seven minutes, the ship’s computer had been supplying wakeup calls every five minutes.
He wasn’t usually someone who overslept. In fact, he only did it when there was something that he didn’t want to do the next day. His mother had to physically shake him awake on the morning of his Starfleet Entrance Examination. Four years later, and he had been fifteen minutes late for his final examination in Temporal Mechanics, only just getting in before the proctors shut the doors on late entrants. That day had greatly amused his friends. After all, who on Earth was late for a temporal exam?”
He had tried many things over the years but nothing seemed guaranteed to rouse him if he didn’t want to be roused awake. Over the last two or three years, he had finally arrived at a foolproof solution, albeit an unpleasant one.
Strangely enough, it was the blight of his life that provided the answer.
The Betazoid word for it was Silena which translated as Silence of Thought. A poetic name for a vile condition affecting roughly one in every hundred and twenty thousand Betazoids, Silena first struck during puberty. It was around the same time that a Betazoid first developed their empathic and telepathic abilities. Silena short circuited the portions of the brain associated with telepathy, causing telepathic blackouts which were combined with blisteringly painful headaches. At first, the blackouts were short and occurred infrequently but as time passed on, they increased in severity and frequency. By the age of forty, a sufferer typically experienced a final blackout that lasted for the rest of their life. They lost all of their telepathic abilities and all that remained were the headaches.
Kandro had been more unfortunate than most. He had a rare version of Silena called Albrem that had lain dormant until a few months earlier when it became active, accelerating the Silena to the point of total blackout, ten years early.
Since then, he had lost all of his abilities. At least, the Pylium controlled the pain. He used it as a reliable wakeup call.
He had been taking it long enough to know exactly how long a dose worked for. Usually he timed an injection before he slept to ensure that it didn’t wear off while he was sleeping. On this occasion, he had done the reverse.
One moment, he was blissfully asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around his pillow as if it was a beautiful woman. In the next moment, he screamed and he was shocked awake as a marching band began to play loudly inside his skull. Sitting up in bed, he pressed his left hand to his forehead while his right hand darted to the bedside cabinet where a hypospray lay. He missed it with his first attempt but he grabbed it tightly with his second attempt. Jabbing it against his neck, he sighed in time with the hiss of the hypo as he activated it. It was a sigh of relief and a sigh of contentment.
Dropping the empty hypo onto the bed, Kandro closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall to enjoy the relaxing sensation. He stayed exactly like that until he was rudely interrupted by the ship’s computer.
“Attention. The time is now thirteen-fifty. Repeat, the time is now thirteen-fifty.”
The computer’s voice wasn’t overly loud but it did just enough to set his head to thumping again and wipe the smile of contentment from his lips. “Computer, discontinue alarm!,” he snapped before opening his eyes. He glanced at the chronometer by his bedside, hoping against hope that the computer had been wrong. He groaned when he saw that it was really just ten minutes until he had to be there.
“I really don’t want to do this,” he groaned, banging his head on the wall behind him, twice, and regretting it.
Clad in only a pair of shorts, Kandro slid out of bed and padded his way into the bathroom. He pulled off his shorts and discarded them on the floor before he stepped inside the sonic shower. Tempting as it was, he didn’t have the time to take a leisurely shower. So he ratcheted the volume up high that served to not only get him clean in record time but it also shook the last vestiges of sleep from him.
Stepping out of the shower, he pulled his shorts on once more and moved over to the bathroom mirror. As he had done countless times in the last few months, he leaned forwards and gently pulled down the skin beneath his eyes. First, the left eye and then the right eye. As he did this, he swiveled his eyes. First to the left and to the right before up and down. His eyes looked the same as they always had. People often had the misconception that all Betazoid eyes were the same dark orbs with no discernable differences. Looking closer, however, he knew this to be a fallacy. He could see the tiny flecks of green that lit up the darkness of his large pupils. His eyes looked exactly the same as they always had, which was unnerving to see. He had only owned them for about three months. His real eyes had either been jettisoned into space or they still resided in some Borg laboratory.
He shivered at the thought.
He didn’t know why he kept checking his eyes. Maybe he expected Borg nanoprobes to pop out at any moment, despite Doctor Hollem’s assurances that his system had been purged of them. Or perhaps, as the ship’s counselor, Lieutenant Dayle had informed him, it was natural to take time to adjust to a replacement body part and to be a touch paranoid over whether it would still be there in the morning.
He hadn’t bothered telling her about how he felt about his arm.
Content now that his eyes still looked the same as always, Kandro moved back into the living area of his quarters and got dressed. He didn’t wear his uniform. He didn’t need it today. Instead he pulled on a pair of dark trousers and a dark green wrap over top. He procrastinated over which pair of boots to wear but this was merely an attempt to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.
Finally, at just after fourteen hundred hours, he left his quarters and headed towards his fate.
Despite the fact that his destination was on Deck Five, the same as his quarters, he still dawdled, saying polite greetings to people when he passed by them.
When he passed by Lieutenant Zia Kehen, she wasn’t about to be put off with just a hello. “Aren’t you late?,” she asked him with a knowing smile. Everyone knew how Kandro felt about today.
“Probably,” he replied as he continued past her without slowing.
She wasn’t put off and despite the fact that she had clearly been heading in the other direction, she turned around and fell into step beside him.
“Weren’t you going somewhere else?,” he asked her.
“Nah,” Kehen said, the white of her hair contrasting against the blue-green of her skin and with the black, gray and red of her uniform in a clash of colors that should have seemed confusing but they actually combined surprisingly well. “I was only on my way to see Yashiro. Anyway, he can wait,” she added with a smile. “I’d rather watch you walk into the lion’s den.”
Kandro forced back a smile. “You’re a true friend. Do you know that?”
She ignored the sarcasm in his voice. “I know,” she said, nodding furiously. “People are always saying that.”
“Well, it’ll be your turn soon and then I’ll laugh at you.”
“Ah, but I don’t mind it. Only you do, so it won’t be nearly as much fun,” she replied as they came to the double doors. “Here we are.”
Kandro took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to do this but he really didn’t have a choice. With Kehen still in tow, he walked towards the doors, passing through them when they slid open in anticipation.
“Finally!,” a voice came from inside. “You’re late, Kandro. My shift ended five minutes ago.” The speaker was Crewman al-Nazar, a young man of Arabic descent and he was also out of uniform. “It’s just my luck to get lumbered with you, following on from my shift.”
“Hey! Show some respect, Crewman,” the Betazoid said. “I outrank you.”
The young lab assistant smiled broadly and shook his head. “Not for the next eight hours, you don’t. You’re now the lowest rank on the ship.” The young Crewman threw a towel at Kandro. “Bartender.”
Kandro threw the towel over his shoulder and waited for al-Nazar to get out from behind the bar before he took his place.
“Have fun,” al-Nazar said, playfully before he left.
As the doors slid shut, Kehen bounced onto a bar and placed her hands on the polished surface of the bar. “A glass of T’kera, please!,” she shouted while trying and failing to keep the smile off of her face.
Kandro turned around and grabbed an elaborate bottle that was half-filled with pink liquid. “I hate my life,” he muttered.
Episode Seventeen - ‘Pack Up Your Troubles’
By Jack D. Elmlinger
Prologue
13;47 Ship Time.
Valian Kandro slept deeply in spite of the fact that for the last forty-seven minutes, the ship’s computer had been supplying wakeup calls every five minutes.
He wasn’t usually someone who overslept. In fact, he only did it when there was something that he didn’t want to do the next day. His mother had to physically shake him awake on the morning of his Starfleet Entrance Examination. Four years later, and he had been fifteen minutes late for his final examination in Temporal Mechanics, only just getting in before the proctors shut the doors on late entrants. That day had greatly amused his friends. After all, who on Earth was late for a temporal exam?”
He had tried many things over the years but nothing seemed guaranteed to rouse him if he didn’t want to be roused awake. Over the last two or three years, he had finally arrived at a foolproof solution, albeit an unpleasant one.
Strangely enough, it was the blight of his life that provided the answer.
The Betazoid word for it was Silena which translated as Silence of Thought. A poetic name for a vile condition affecting roughly one in every hundred and twenty thousand Betazoids, Silena first struck during puberty. It was around the same time that a Betazoid first developed their empathic and telepathic abilities. Silena short circuited the portions of the brain associated with telepathy, causing telepathic blackouts which were combined with blisteringly painful headaches. At first, the blackouts were short and occurred infrequently but as time passed on, they increased in severity and frequency. By the age of forty, a sufferer typically experienced a final blackout that lasted for the rest of their life. They lost all of their telepathic abilities and all that remained were the headaches.
Kandro had been more unfortunate than most. He had a rare version of Silena called Albrem that had lain dormant until a few months earlier when it became active, accelerating the Silena to the point of total blackout, ten years early.
Since then, he had lost all of his abilities. At least, the Pylium controlled the pain. He used it as a reliable wakeup call.
He had been taking it long enough to know exactly how long a dose worked for. Usually he timed an injection before he slept to ensure that it didn’t wear off while he was sleeping. On this occasion, he had done the reverse.
One moment, he was blissfully asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around his pillow as if it was a beautiful woman. In the next moment, he screamed and he was shocked awake as a marching band began to play loudly inside his skull. Sitting up in bed, he pressed his left hand to his forehead while his right hand darted to the bedside cabinet where a hypospray lay. He missed it with his first attempt but he grabbed it tightly with his second attempt. Jabbing it against his neck, he sighed in time with the hiss of the hypo as he activated it. It was a sigh of relief and a sigh of contentment.
Dropping the empty hypo onto the bed, Kandro closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall to enjoy the relaxing sensation. He stayed exactly like that until he was rudely interrupted by the ship’s computer.
“Attention. The time is now thirteen-fifty. Repeat, the time is now thirteen-fifty.”
The computer’s voice wasn’t overly loud but it did just enough to set his head to thumping again and wipe the smile of contentment from his lips. “Computer, discontinue alarm!,” he snapped before opening his eyes. He glanced at the chronometer by his bedside, hoping against hope that the computer had been wrong. He groaned when he saw that it was really just ten minutes until he had to be there.
“I really don’t want to do this,” he groaned, banging his head on the wall behind him, twice, and regretting it.
Clad in only a pair of shorts, Kandro slid out of bed and padded his way into the bathroom. He pulled off his shorts and discarded them on the floor before he stepped inside the sonic shower. Tempting as it was, he didn’t have the time to take a leisurely shower. So he ratcheted the volume up high that served to not only get him clean in record time but it also shook the last vestiges of sleep from him.
Stepping out of the shower, he pulled his shorts on once more and moved over to the bathroom mirror. As he had done countless times in the last few months, he leaned forwards and gently pulled down the skin beneath his eyes. First, the left eye and then the right eye. As he did this, he swiveled his eyes. First to the left and to the right before up and down. His eyes looked the same as they always had. People often had the misconception that all Betazoid eyes were the same dark orbs with no discernable differences. Looking closer, however, he knew this to be a fallacy. He could see the tiny flecks of green that lit up the darkness of his large pupils. His eyes looked exactly the same as they always had, which was unnerving to see. He had only owned them for about three months. His real eyes had either been jettisoned into space or they still resided in some Borg laboratory.
He shivered at the thought.
He didn’t know why he kept checking his eyes. Maybe he expected Borg nanoprobes to pop out at any moment, despite Doctor Hollem’s assurances that his system had been purged of them. Or perhaps, as the ship’s counselor, Lieutenant Dayle had informed him, it was natural to take time to adjust to a replacement body part and to be a touch paranoid over whether it would still be there in the morning.
He hadn’t bothered telling her about how he felt about his arm.
Content now that his eyes still looked the same as always, Kandro moved back into the living area of his quarters and got dressed. He didn’t wear his uniform. He didn’t need it today. Instead he pulled on a pair of dark trousers and a dark green wrap over top. He procrastinated over which pair of boots to wear but this was merely an attempt to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.
Finally, at just after fourteen hundred hours, he left his quarters and headed towards his fate.
Despite the fact that his destination was on Deck Five, the same as his quarters, he still dawdled, saying polite greetings to people when he passed by them.
When he passed by Lieutenant Zia Kehen, she wasn’t about to be put off with just a hello. “Aren’t you late?,” she asked him with a knowing smile. Everyone knew how Kandro felt about today.
“Probably,” he replied as he continued past her without slowing.
She wasn’t put off and despite the fact that she had clearly been heading in the other direction, she turned around and fell into step beside him.
“Weren’t you going somewhere else?,” he asked her.
“Nah,” Kehen said, the white of her hair contrasting against the blue-green of her skin and with the black, gray and red of her uniform in a clash of colors that should have seemed confusing but they actually combined surprisingly well. “I was only on my way to see Yashiro. Anyway, he can wait,” she added with a smile. “I’d rather watch you walk into the lion’s den.”
Kandro forced back a smile. “You’re a true friend. Do you know that?”
She ignored the sarcasm in his voice. “I know,” she said, nodding furiously. “People are always saying that.”
“Well, it’ll be your turn soon and then I’ll laugh at you.”
“Ah, but I don’t mind it. Only you do, so it won’t be nearly as much fun,” she replied as they came to the double doors. “Here we are.”
Kandro took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to do this but he really didn’t have a choice. With Kehen still in tow, he walked towards the doors, passing through them when they slid open in anticipation.
“Finally!,” a voice came from inside. “You’re late, Kandro. My shift ended five minutes ago.” The speaker was Crewman al-Nazar, a young man of Arabic descent and he was also out of uniform. “It’s just my luck to get lumbered with you, following on from my shift.”
“Hey! Show some respect, Crewman,” the Betazoid said. “I outrank you.”
The young lab assistant smiled broadly and shook his head. “Not for the next eight hours, you don’t. You’re now the lowest rank on the ship.” The young Crewman threw a towel at Kandro. “Bartender.”
Kandro threw the towel over his shoulder and waited for al-Nazar to get out from behind the bar before he took his place.
“Have fun,” al-Nazar said, playfully before he left.
As the doors slid shut, Kehen bounced onto a bar and placed her hands on the polished surface of the bar. “A glass of T’kera, please!,” she shouted while trying and failing to keep the smile off of her face.
Kandro turned around and grabbed an elaborate bottle that was half-filled with pink liquid. “I hate my life,” he muttered.
Okie Dokie then... That's quite the fast wrap and no love lost between Huntington and Masafumi. Congrats on one hell of a writing spree. Thanks!! rbs
You're welcome, RBS, and sold! You are now the owner of a slightly-used Ferengi Alliance. Enjoy!
Chapter One
14:30 Ship’s Time.
Captain’s Log, Stardate 55444;
I’m not sure why I keep updating this log. There isn’t much in the way of new information to report. I suppose that I want to ensure that everything is up to date when my successor gets here.
It has now been three days since we rescued Captain Cardonez and Lieutenant Commander Huntington from the planet Relatrix, along with an unusual cargo, the only functional Genesis Device in existence.
In less than twenty-four hours, the USS Chikuma will rendezvous with us to pick up the device and deliver it back to Earth. I was surprised when Admiral Gavin informed me that only one ship would be delivering Genesis. Given its nature, I would have expected a fleet or, at least, a task force. I don’t see the logic, however, that one ship on a route trip home raises no suspicions while a small convoy implies that something is going on.
Not that it matters very much to me, whether it’s one ship or five. In truth, I’ll be glad when it is away from the Testudo. There’s something very disconcerting about having the power of creation sitting in Cargo Bay Two.
The Chikuma’s arrival also gives us the chance to offload some personnel whose tours of duty have ended or who are going on leave. We will also be taking on some new crew members including one Commander… sorry, I mean, Captain Lucas Taylor, my replacement.
I don’t suppose I am alone in the fact that I hoped this day wouldn’t arrive. When Captain Cardonez came back, I believed that she would naturally assume her rightful place as Captain of this vessel. However, it is not to be. Despite initially seeming pleased to be back, she quickly slipped into a routine of avoiding all mention of her role and, in fact, avoiding everyone. She spends long hours in her cabin. Ignoring her old quarters, she insisted on staying in the cabin that once belonged to Lieutenant Tennyson instead. I fear she still hasn’t come to terms with what happened all of those months ago and until she does, she won’t resume her life.
As for Commander Huntington, he is being professional as always but that’s all. He has made it clear that he still despises me for what he imagines that I did. Still, by all accounts, he is taking up a position at Starfleet Academy which will likely be the best thing for both of us. Bridge officers don’t necessarily have to be friends to function effectively but having two senior officers dislike each other so much is not healthy. We have enough of that with Mister Kandro and Lieutenant Ramblin.
As for me, I await the arrival of Captain Taylor until I make a decision., Both Zia and I want to stay aboard the Testudo but it will depend if the new Captain accepts my request to stay on as First Officer.
Yashiro Masafumi stood recording. He had rambled on long enough and he really had nothing else left to say. Besides, all that he was doing was avoiding tackling his work. His desk - at least it was his for the next twenty-four hours - was cluttered with almost a dozen PADDs. He wanted to get as much of the ship’s business in order as possible before Captain Taylor arrived.
I might as well start with the hardest one, he thought when he selected a PADD from amongst the jumble.
The PADD contained a list of officers that he was recommending for promotion. He would have left it for Taylor but he felt that he owed his people something. Besides, he had been meaning to submit it for the last month. Most of the names on the promotion list were straightforward enough. Confirmation of Louise Ramblin’s promotion to full Lieutenant. Ensigns Parr, T’Vell, and Meyer would be promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade and Petty Officer First Class Schroeder would be promoted to Chief Petty Officer. However, there are two names that he had to remove.
The first was Kehen. As far as the crew was concerned, she deserved her promotion to full Lieutenant. Unfortunately, after her actions a few weeks ago, Masafumi couldn’t, in all conscience, promote her. He loved Zia but she had acted far outside of her duty as a Starfleet officer and he couldn’t reward her for it, even if he was the only one who knew what she had done. He deleted her name. They had already talked about it and she understood.
The second name was Adam Huntington. Masafumi had wanted Testudo’s Chief of Security to serve as his First Officer and after having placed the offer on the table for him, he had slotted in a promotion to full Commander in anticipation. Well, Huntington wouldn’t be acting as Masafumi’s First Officer now, not after he had coerced him into declining the Captaincy permanently. As he deleted the name, he felt guilty but he shook it off. There was no point in promoting him now. Maybe Taylor would want Adam as First Officer but in that case, he could promote him himself. Besides, if what he had heard from the grapevine was true, Huntington would be gone soon.
With two names eliminated from the list, he put the PADD down. After a moment, he picked it up and added a name. If Huntington was leaving, then that would leave a place open for a new Tactical Officer. Lieutenant (JG) Paul Carson was the obvious choice but a promotion to full Lieutenant would help that along.
As he placed the PADD down on the desk for a second time, the door chimes rang. “Come,” he said, already anticipating who it was.
The guilt and sadness that Masafumi had been feeling evaporated once Kehen came into the room like a small dynamo of energy. “Hiya!,” she said, immediately skirting around the desk and placing herself square in his lap.
“Zia!,” he shouted with mock consternation. “I hardly think that this is a dignified way to greet a superior officer.”
“Shut up,” she replied and she proceeded to kiss him.
Masafumi wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her back. He was only slightly concerned that someone might come in.
Breaking away from his embrace, Kehen leaped up and went back the way that she had come before sitting down on one of the seats on the other side of the desk.
“What? That’s it?”
“Uh-huh,” she said with a smile. “We’ll have to save it for later. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Really?,” asked Masafumi, a sly grin on his face now.
“Yeah. we have the holodeck booked for a whole two hours starting at sixteen hundred.”
Masafumi’s shoulders slumped and his smile faded to be replaced by a look of mingled disappointment and annoyance. “Zia, I’m on duty. I can’t just go running off to the holodeck.”
“But I arranged it especially,” said Kehen. “Can’t you get Huntington to cover for you?”
“I don’t think that Adam is in any kind of mood to do me any favors.”
“You know you could just tell him…”
“No!,” Masafumi said forcefully. “No,” he repeated, quieter this time. “It would serve no purpose except to maybe see you court-martialed for breaking the Prime Directive.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Really? I think you’ll find that our Tactical Officer can be quite strict over the regulations. Look at what he did to me and he was only that merciful because of the shame that it would bring onto the Captaincy of the Testudo. He wouldn’t be so accommodating for a lowly Lieutenant.”
“Thanks.”
“You know what I mean.”
Kehen pouted. “Okay, so don’t tell him, but let me ask if he’ll cover for you. I’ve been planning this for ages and I want to ravish you while you’re still a Captain.”
“Oh, I see,” said Masafumi, the playful smile back now. “Does that mean that our relationship is over once Captain Taylor takes over?”
“Not unless you want it to be?”
“Nice try,” he said,” but you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He leaned back in his chair. “Okay, then, ask him. What have you got planned anyway?”
“Duh! It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”
Masafumi raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. A romantic cruise across the Northern Polar Deserts of Yulan?”
“I’m not telling,” the Yulanian said, standing up as she spoke. “Look, I’m going to go find Huntington and ask him.” She spun around and headed for the door. She got up all of the three steps before pausing and casting a glance back at him. “Oh, and we have to go to the Backyard later.”
“Why?”
“Because Valian is working behind the bar today!,” she replied with a grin.
Masafumi laughed and said,” I’m sure that he’s having a blast.”
****
14:49 Ship’s Time
Valian Kandro wasn’t having a blast.
It was all very well and good, having a bar aboard a Galaxy-class starship. After all, with a crew complement of over a thousand, you could afford to include a few civilians. Testudo wasn’t anywhere near the size of a Galaxy-class though. The New Orleans-class frigate boasted a significant;y smaller crew of around one-hundred and eighty and there was no room for civilians or even family members.
The obvious answer would have been not to have a bar but Starfleet had nixed that idea. Recreational facilities helped make life bearable on long haul missions and, although a series of replicators could have done it more efficiently, people still preferred the personal touch.
Hence the rule was born.
Every member of the crew, from the lowest Crewman to the Captain, had to serve behind the bar for, at least, three shifts a year. Of course, some people had to do it more often, either because they were unlucky or because they enjoyed it and found it to be a relaxing diversion from their usual workload.
Now as he surveyed the bar, just as a smattering of people sat nursing drinks, he mused that he had been one of those people who enjoyed a stint as bartender. Being surrounded by Testudo’s crew was an intoxicating feeling. The Backyard was where everyone went to relax and it meant that he could relax his defenses a bit as well, letting peoples’ emotions wash over him, sensing their joy and heartaches.
It made him feel like he was a part of something.
Since the Silena had kicked in permanently, he had found that he hated being around people now. It wasn’t that he hated the people as much as they now seemed to be like empty vessels to him. Commander Huntington had once shown him an old Earth movie called The Wizard of Oz and it seemed very appropriate. Whereas Dorothy had begun in a monochrome world before visiting Oz, it was the other way around for Kandro. He had started life in a dazzling work, full to the brim with the color of other peoples’ emotions. Now he existed in a place where everything was black and white.
That wasn’t the only reason why he disliked being around people. He was terrified that they might realize the truth about him.
When he had first been diagnosed with Silena, shortly after his fifteenth birthday, it had been a shock but the brashness of youth had soon overcome it. After all, he was just exploring the wondrous new abilities that his mind possessed. What did he care for what would happen twenty-five years down the line? Besides, in the early years of the Silena, attacks happened infrequently and when they did strike, they were usually over in a manner of minutes.
By the time that he went to Starfleet Academy at the age of eighteen, he had almost convinced himself that it was never going to get any worse.
To suggest that Kandro had a whale of a time during his four years there was an understatement. If there was a party on campus, you could count on Valian Kandro being there. His naturally quirky sense of humor and unconventional good looks made him popular with almost everyone, especially the female students. No matter how many times the Academy instructors drilled it into those cadets who possessed telepathic abilities not to abuse them, most cadets did what came naturally to them. As such, while a Human male might use his sense of vision to help determine whether a girl liked him or not, he used his empathic abilities.
Several instructors took him to one side and advised him to be more discreet. However, as much as he tried, he couldn’t stop relying on his empathic nature, and in truth, what was the harm? He never used his abilities to coerce girls, just to determine if they liked him or not.
Midway through his third year at the Academy, the attacks started to increase in intensity and they began to happen more often. Valian wasn’t unduly alarmed. After all, he had his Pylium. The trouble was that he tended to act out of character while on the Pylium. He was surlier, less perceptive of others’ feelings and generally less fun to be around.
It took him a few weeks to figure out why people were avoiding him but once he did, he acted out almost immediately. He found that he didn’t like not being the center of attention. He liked to surround himself with others and their emotions.
So he began to pretend.
He began to pretend that everything was okay during an attack and that he was still ‘Happy Go-Lucky’ Valian. And it worked. Even though he felt empty inside and even though the people who he talked to seemed to be more like ghosts than real people.
Soon, the word got around that Valian Kandro was a party animal once more and the minor blip on his successful Academy social life was soon forgotten.
Kandro told himself that it didn’t matter. He was only pretending some of the time and the attacks weren’t still that regular. The trouble was that as the years passed, the attacks did become more frequent and they would last for hours. Suddenly, he found out that he was pretending every few days… Then it was every other day.
All the while that he craved the attention, the closeness, at the same time, he was pushing it away. How many women had there been? On the Galaxy, the Osprey, the Testudo? The truth was that he could never tell. After a time, they all tended to merge into a year’s long one nightstand.
There had been a few people over the years who he had let in. Isabel Cardonez for one of them. Hollem Azahn and Zia Kehen caught a glimpse now and again. And there had been Linda Grady. Linda, who he had loved and left like all of the others… but then she had died and suddenly he had felt a tangible sense of loss. Often he wondered if she hadn’t been ‘The One’ but he had been too blind to see her as anything other than another fling. He thought about her all the time, wondering at the paths not taken.
There had been Amira, the young woman who had used him to satisfy her own longing in the same way that he had used all of those other women.
There was Liz Tennyson, his best friend, his confidant, and his soulmate. The only person, even above Cardonez, who he could be himself with. Liz, raped and almost murdered while the Testudo had been rescuing him from the Borg.
So he was still pretending. Only now he was pretending all of the time. He didn’t know who the real Valian Kandro was anymore and that’s why being around people frightened him. On the Bridge, there was always something to do, some distraction, but here, for the next few hours, he could be the center of attention for the dozens of crew members who would file in. All of them were expecting a flash of the Kandro smile and perhaps a hint of the Kandro hint.
He didn’t know if he could do it. He didn’t know if he could keep up the pretense for that long. Sooner or later, they would see through the facade to the real Kandro. Except he wasn’t sure if there was a real Kandro anymore.
As he surveyed the bar once more, he soon saw that he didn’t appear to be the only one with problems. He moved from around the bar and walked over to that individual.
Chief Petty Officer Michelle Leong stood, facing the back window of the bar, staring off at the view of the ship’s rear superstructure that was illuminated by both of the ship’s nacelles and the stars streaking back into infinity. The sight was reflecting back from the hull onto her doll-like face.
“Bored much?,” he asked her as lightheartedly as he could when he stood beside her.
Leong turned her head and smiled at him. “Just contemplating the infinite,” she said.
“And there was me about to offer to get you another drink,” Kandro replied. “So what’s on your mind?”
She sighed and he saw for the first time that she was looking tired. A petite woman, Leong had been born on Alpha Centauri and descended from ancestors who had worked in the rice fields of China, centuries before. A handsome rather than pretty woman, her skin had always seemed taut and fresh but now he noticed lines that hadn’t been there two years ago when she had first come aboard the USS Osprey. Her raven-black hair descended down her back in a large plait and he saw that there were a few specks of gray in there now. She was only a few years older than him but then Humans tended to age more noticeably than Betazoids did.
When she didn’t follow up the sigh with anything else, he prompted her. “Come on, Michelle. Something’s bothering you. What is it?”
She glanced around, confirming that the few other people in the room, sitting and drinking, were out of earshot. “I guess I’m wondering if this is it,” she said. “Whether this is the sum total of my life. I’m thirty-three, single, and I spend most of my day in a Transporter Room on the off chance that we need to beam something up or down.”
“I see.”
“Do you?,” she asked, looking him square in the eyes. “You get to work on the Bridge. Operations is hard work but as far as I can gather, it’s rarely dull.”
“True enough,” he conceded.
“Transporter Chief, on the other hand, is ninety percent boredom, nine percent mildly interesting, and one percent exciting. Sometimes I go through my entire shift without seeing another living being.”
Kandro bit his tongue. While the thought of not seeing anyone when he worked was appealing as hell. He understood what she meant. The Transporter Room was a bare box and the Transporter Chief had a vital job to perform, not just all of the time.
“Have you thought about switching back to Engineering?”
“Yeah, I was planning to ask Lieutenant Tennyson but events took a hand over that.”
“So you haven’t spoken to Ramblin?”
Leong shook her head. “No, I’m not sure that she likes me.”
Kandro laughed. “I’m not sure that she likes anyone.”
For the first time since he had joined her, Leong smiled. “You could be right there. She can be intimidating. Especially since she got promoted.”
Kandro leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t tell her that I said this but she’s just still getting broken in. The first time that you’re in charge of people can be a daunting experience. It’s hard to know if you’re being too hard or too soft on them and some people tend to overcompensate either way. Give her a few more months and she’ll be fine.”
“You really think so?,” she asked him.
“Really,” he said. “Now why not go and find her now? I’ve got customers.” The doors slid open and three men walked in. as he turned to leave, she reached out and grabbed his arm.
“What?,” he enquired.
She looked up at him with her eyes meeting his eyes. “That still doesn’t solve the problem of my being single,” she said softly.
Kandro placed a hand on top of hers. He paused for a moment before he responded. “Look, Michelle, I know that there were a few times on the Osprey when he had fun but… “ He stopped to find the words that he needed to say.
Leong didn’t prolong his agony. Covering her other hand with his, she smiled. It was a sad smile but it was a smile nonetheless. “Well, I didn’t think I would see the day when Valian Kandro would turn down a woman throwing herself at him.” He winced at that. “You’re a good friend,” she added. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
Her hands released their grip and she turned away from him. Kandro watched her go, his mind a little confused. She was right. What was he doing turning down no strings-attached sex? It really wasn’t like him. Then again, the last liaison that he had with a woman had been before his assimilation by the Borg. Maybe he was just a little nervous about getting back into the saddle again.
Yes, he assured himself with a smile, that was it.
He was still staring into space, moments later, when a sudden shout echoed from across the bar. “Hey, barkeep! We’d like a drink if you aren’t too busy, of course.”
14:30 Ship’s Time.
Captain’s Log, Stardate 55444;
I’m not sure why I keep updating this log. There isn’t much in the way of new information to report. I suppose that I want to ensure that everything is up to date when my successor gets here.
It has now been three days since we rescued Captain Cardonez and Lieutenant Commander Huntington from the planet Relatrix, along with an unusual cargo, the only functional Genesis Device in existence.
In less than twenty-four hours, the USS Chikuma will rendezvous with us to pick up the device and deliver it back to Earth. I was surprised when Admiral Gavin informed me that only one ship would be delivering Genesis. Given its nature, I would have expected a fleet or, at least, a task force. I don’t see the logic, however, that one ship on a route trip home raises no suspicions while a small convoy implies that something is going on.
Not that it matters very much to me, whether it’s one ship or five. In truth, I’ll be glad when it is away from the Testudo. There’s something very disconcerting about having the power of creation sitting in Cargo Bay Two.
The Chikuma’s arrival also gives us the chance to offload some personnel whose tours of duty have ended or who are going on leave. We will also be taking on some new crew members including one Commander… sorry, I mean, Captain Lucas Taylor, my replacement.
I don’t suppose I am alone in the fact that I hoped this day wouldn’t arrive. When Captain Cardonez came back, I believed that she would naturally assume her rightful place as Captain of this vessel. However, it is not to be. Despite initially seeming pleased to be back, she quickly slipped into a routine of avoiding all mention of her role and, in fact, avoiding everyone. She spends long hours in her cabin. Ignoring her old quarters, she insisted on staying in the cabin that once belonged to Lieutenant Tennyson instead. I fear she still hasn’t come to terms with what happened all of those months ago and until she does, she won’t resume her life.
As for Commander Huntington, he is being professional as always but that’s all. He has made it clear that he still despises me for what he imagines that I did. Still, by all accounts, he is taking up a position at Starfleet Academy which will likely be the best thing for both of us. Bridge officers don’t necessarily have to be friends to function effectively but having two senior officers dislike each other so much is not healthy. We have enough of that with Mister Kandro and Lieutenant Ramblin.
As for me, I await the arrival of Captain Taylor until I make a decision., Both Zia and I want to stay aboard the Testudo but it will depend if the new Captain accepts my request to stay on as First Officer.
Yashiro Masafumi stood recording. He had rambled on long enough and he really had nothing else left to say. Besides, all that he was doing was avoiding tackling his work. His desk - at least it was his for the next twenty-four hours - was cluttered with almost a dozen PADDs. He wanted to get as much of the ship’s business in order as possible before Captain Taylor arrived.
I might as well start with the hardest one, he thought when he selected a PADD from amongst the jumble.
The PADD contained a list of officers that he was recommending for promotion. He would have left it for Taylor but he felt that he owed his people something. Besides, he had been meaning to submit it for the last month. Most of the names on the promotion list were straightforward enough. Confirmation of Louise Ramblin’s promotion to full Lieutenant. Ensigns Parr, T’Vell, and Meyer would be promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade and Petty Officer First Class Schroeder would be promoted to Chief Petty Officer. However, there are two names that he had to remove.
The first was Kehen. As far as the crew was concerned, she deserved her promotion to full Lieutenant. Unfortunately, after her actions a few weeks ago, Masafumi couldn’t, in all conscience, promote her. He loved Zia but she had acted far outside of her duty as a Starfleet officer and he couldn’t reward her for it, even if he was the only one who knew what she had done. He deleted her name. They had already talked about it and she understood.
The second name was Adam Huntington. Masafumi had wanted Testudo’s Chief of Security to serve as his First Officer and after having placed the offer on the table for him, he had slotted in a promotion to full Commander in anticipation. Well, Huntington wouldn’t be acting as Masafumi’s First Officer now, not after he had coerced him into declining the Captaincy permanently. As he deleted the name, he felt guilty but he shook it off. There was no point in promoting him now. Maybe Taylor would want Adam as First Officer but in that case, he could promote him himself. Besides, if what he had heard from the grapevine was true, Huntington would be gone soon.
With two names eliminated from the list, he put the PADD down. After a moment, he picked it up and added a name. If Huntington was leaving, then that would leave a place open for a new Tactical Officer. Lieutenant (JG) Paul Carson was the obvious choice but a promotion to full Lieutenant would help that along.
As he placed the PADD down on the desk for a second time, the door chimes rang. “Come,” he said, already anticipating who it was.
The guilt and sadness that Masafumi had been feeling evaporated once Kehen came into the room like a small dynamo of energy. “Hiya!,” she said, immediately skirting around the desk and placing herself square in his lap.
“Zia!,” he shouted with mock consternation. “I hardly think that this is a dignified way to greet a superior officer.”
“Shut up,” she replied and she proceeded to kiss him.
Masafumi wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her back. He was only slightly concerned that someone might come in.
Breaking away from his embrace, Kehen leaped up and went back the way that she had come before sitting down on one of the seats on the other side of the desk.
“What? That’s it?”
“Uh-huh,” she said with a smile. “We’ll have to save it for later. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Really?,” asked Masafumi, a sly grin on his face now.
“Yeah. we have the holodeck booked for a whole two hours starting at sixteen hundred.”
Masafumi’s shoulders slumped and his smile faded to be replaced by a look of mingled disappointment and annoyance. “Zia, I’m on duty. I can’t just go running off to the holodeck.”
“But I arranged it especially,” said Kehen. “Can’t you get Huntington to cover for you?”
“I don’t think that Adam is in any kind of mood to do me any favors.”
“You know you could just tell him…”
“No!,” Masafumi said forcefully. “No,” he repeated, quieter this time. “It would serve no purpose except to maybe see you court-martialed for breaking the Prime Directive.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Really? I think you’ll find that our Tactical Officer can be quite strict over the regulations. Look at what he did to me and he was only that merciful because of the shame that it would bring onto the Captaincy of the Testudo. He wouldn’t be so accommodating for a lowly Lieutenant.”
“Thanks.”
“You know what I mean.”
Kehen pouted. “Okay, so don’t tell him, but let me ask if he’ll cover for you. I’ve been planning this for ages and I want to ravish you while you’re still a Captain.”
“Oh, I see,” said Masafumi, the playful smile back now. “Does that mean that our relationship is over once Captain Taylor takes over?”
“Not unless you want it to be?”
“Nice try,” he said,” but you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He leaned back in his chair. “Okay, then, ask him. What have you got planned anyway?”
“Duh! It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”
Masafumi raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. A romantic cruise across the Northern Polar Deserts of Yulan?”
“I’m not telling,” the Yulanian said, standing up as she spoke. “Look, I’m going to go find Huntington and ask him.” She spun around and headed for the door. She got up all of the three steps before pausing and casting a glance back at him. “Oh, and we have to go to the Backyard later.”
“Why?”
“Because Valian is working behind the bar today!,” she replied with a grin.
Masafumi laughed and said,” I’m sure that he’s having a blast.”
****
14:49 Ship’s Time
Valian Kandro wasn’t having a blast.
It was all very well and good, having a bar aboard a Galaxy-class starship. After all, with a crew complement of over a thousand, you could afford to include a few civilians. Testudo wasn’t anywhere near the size of a Galaxy-class though. The New Orleans-class frigate boasted a significant;y smaller crew of around one-hundred and eighty and there was no room for civilians or even family members.
The obvious answer would have been not to have a bar but Starfleet had nixed that idea. Recreational facilities helped make life bearable on long haul missions and, although a series of replicators could have done it more efficiently, people still preferred the personal touch.
Hence the rule was born.
Every member of the crew, from the lowest Crewman to the Captain, had to serve behind the bar for, at least, three shifts a year. Of course, some people had to do it more often, either because they were unlucky or because they enjoyed it and found it to be a relaxing diversion from their usual workload.
Now as he surveyed the bar, just as a smattering of people sat nursing drinks, he mused that he had been one of those people who enjoyed a stint as bartender. Being surrounded by Testudo’s crew was an intoxicating feeling. The Backyard was where everyone went to relax and it meant that he could relax his defenses a bit as well, letting peoples’ emotions wash over him, sensing their joy and heartaches.
It made him feel like he was a part of something.
Since the Silena had kicked in permanently, he had found that he hated being around people now. It wasn’t that he hated the people as much as they now seemed to be like empty vessels to him. Commander Huntington had once shown him an old Earth movie called The Wizard of Oz and it seemed very appropriate. Whereas Dorothy had begun in a monochrome world before visiting Oz, it was the other way around for Kandro. He had started life in a dazzling work, full to the brim with the color of other peoples’ emotions. Now he existed in a place where everything was black and white.
That wasn’t the only reason why he disliked being around people. He was terrified that they might realize the truth about him.
When he had first been diagnosed with Silena, shortly after his fifteenth birthday, it had been a shock but the brashness of youth had soon overcome it. After all, he was just exploring the wondrous new abilities that his mind possessed. What did he care for what would happen twenty-five years down the line? Besides, in the early years of the Silena, attacks happened infrequently and when they did strike, they were usually over in a manner of minutes.
By the time that he went to Starfleet Academy at the age of eighteen, he had almost convinced himself that it was never going to get any worse.
To suggest that Kandro had a whale of a time during his four years there was an understatement. If there was a party on campus, you could count on Valian Kandro being there. His naturally quirky sense of humor and unconventional good looks made him popular with almost everyone, especially the female students. No matter how many times the Academy instructors drilled it into those cadets who possessed telepathic abilities not to abuse them, most cadets did what came naturally to them. As such, while a Human male might use his sense of vision to help determine whether a girl liked him or not, he used his empathic abilities.
Several instructors took him to one side and advised him to be more discreet. However, as much as he tried, he couldn’t stop relying on his empathic nature, and in truth, what was the harm? He never used his abilities to coerce girls, just to determine if they liked him or not.
Midway through his third year at the Academy, the attacks started to increase in intensity and they began to happen more often. Valian wasn’t unduly alarmed. After all, he had his Pylium. The trouble was that he tended to act out of character while on the Pylium. He was surlier, less perceptive of others’ feelings and generally less fun to be around.
It took him a few weeks to figure out why people were avoiding him but once he did, he acted out almost immediately. He found that he didn’t like not being the center of attention. He liked to surround himself with others and their emotions.
So he began to pretend.
He began to pretend that everything was okay during an attack and that he was still ‘Happy Go-Lucky’ Valian. And it worked. Even though he felt empty inside and even though the people who he talked to seemed to be more like ghosts than real people.
Soon, the word got around that Valian Kandro was a party animal once more and the minor blip on his successful Academy social life was soon forgotten.
Kandro told himself that it didn’t matter. He was only pretending some of the time and the attacks weren’t still that regular. The trouble was that as the years passed, the attacks did become more frequent and they would last for hours. Suddenly, he found out that he was pretending every few days… Then it was every other day.
All the while that he craved the attention, the closeness, at the same time, he was pushing it away. How many women had there been? On the Galaxy, the Osprey, the Testudo? The truth was that he could never tell. After a time, they all tended to merge into a year’s long one nightstand.
There had been a few people over the years who he had let in. Isabel Cardonez for one of them. Hollem Azahn and Zia Kehen caught a glimpse now and again. And there had been Linda Grady. Linda, who he had loved and left like all of the others… but then she had died and suddenly he had felt a tangible sense of loss. Often he wondered if she hadn’t been ‘The One’ but he had been too blind to see her as anything other than another fling. He thought about her all the time, wondering at the paths not taken.
There had been Amira, the young woman who had used him to satisfy her own longing in the same way that he had used all of those other women.
There was Liz Tennyson, his best friend, his confidant, and his soulmate. The only person, even above Cardonez, who he could be himself with. Liz, raped and almost murdered while the Testudo had been rescuing him from the Borg.
So he was still pretending. Only now he was pretending all of the time. He didn’t know who the real Valian Kandro was anymore and that’s why being around people frightened him. On the Bridge, there was always something to do, some distraction, but here, for the next few hours, he could be the center of attention for the dozens of crew members who would file in. All of them were expecting a flash of the Kandro smile and perhaps a hint of the Kandro hint.
He didn’t know if he could do it. He didn’t know if he could keep up the pretense for that long. Sooner or later, they would see through the facade to the real Kandro. Except he wasn’t sure if there was a real Kandro anymore.
As he surveyed the bar once more, he soon saw that he didn’t appear to be the only one with problems. He moved from around the bar and walked over to that individual.
Chief Petty Officer Michelle Leong stood, facing the back window of the bar, staring off at the view of the ship’s rear superstructure that was illuminated by both of the ship’s nacelles and the stars streaking back into infinity. The sight was reflecting back from the hull onto her doll-like face.
“Bored much?,” he asked her as lightheartedly as he could when he stood beside her.
Leong turned her head and smiled at him. “Just contemplating the infinite,” she said.
“And there was me about to offer to get you another drink,” Kandro replied. “So what’s on your mind?”
She sighed and he saw for the first time that she was looking tired. A petite woman, Leong had been born on Alpha Centauri and descended from ancestors who had worked in the rice fields of China, centuries before. A handsome rather than pretty woman, her skin had always seemed taut and fresh but now he noticed lines that hadn’t been there two years ago when she had first come aboard the USS Osprey. Her raven-black hair descended down her back in a large plait and he saw that there were a few specks of gray in there now. She was only a few years older than him but then Humans tended to age more noticeably than Betazoids did.
When she didn’t follow up the sigh with anything else, he prompted her. “Come on, Michelle. Something’s bothering you. What is it?”
She glanced around, confirming that the few other people in the room, sitting and drinking, were out of earshot. “I guess I’m wondering if this is it,” she said. “Whether this is the sum total of my life. I’m thirty-three, single, and I spend most of my day in a Transporter Room on the off chance that we need to beam something up or down.”
“I see.”
“Do you?,” she asked, looking him square in the eyes. “You get to work on the Bridge. Operations is hard work but as far as I can gather, it’s rarely dull.”
“True enough,” he conceded.
“Transporter Chief, on the other hand, is ninety percent boredom, nine percent mildly interesting, and one percent exciting. Sometimes I go through my entire shift without seeing another living being.”
Kandro bit his tongue. While the thought of not seeing anyone when he worked was appealing as hell. He understood what she meant. The Transporter Room was a bare box and the Transporter Chief had a vital job to perform, not just all of the time.
“Have you thought about switching back to Engineering?”
“Yeah, I was planning to ask Lieutenant Tennyson but events took a hand over that.”
“So you haven’t spoken to Ramblin?”
Leong shook her head. “No, I’m not sure that she likes me.”
Kandro laughed. “I’m not sure that she likes anyone.”
For the first time since he had joined her, Leong smiled. “You could be right there. She can be intimidating. Especially since she got promoted.”
Kandro leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t tell her that I said this but she’s just still getting broken in. The first time that you’re in charge of people can be a daunting experience. It’s hard to know if you’re being too hard or too soft on them and some people tend to overcompensate either way. Give her a few more months and she’ll be fine.”
“You really think so?,” she asked him.
“Really,” he said. “Now why not go and find her now? I’ve got customers.” The doors slid open and three men walked in. as he turned to leave, she reached out and grabbed his arm.
“What?,” he enquired.
She looked up at him with her eyes meeting his eyes. “That still doesn’t solve the problem of my being single,” she said softly.
Kandro placed a hand on top of hers. He paused for a moment before he responded. “Look, Michelle, I know that there were a few times on the Osprey when he had fun but… “ He stopped to find the words that he needed to say.
Leong didn’t prolong his agony. Covering her other hand with his, she smiled. It was a sad smile but it was a smile nonetheless. “Well, I didn’t think I would see the day when Valian Kandro would turn down a woman throwing herself at him.” He winced at that. “You’re a good friend,” she added. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
Her hands released their grip and she turned away from him. Kandro watched her go, his mind a little confused. She was right. What was he doing turning down no strings-attached sex? It really wasn’t like him. Then again, the last liaison that he had with a woman had been before his assimilation by the Borg. Maybe he was just a little nervous about getting back into the saddle again.
Yes, he assured himself with a smile, that was it.
He was still staring into space, moments later, when a sudden shout echoed from across the bar. “Hey, barkeep! We’d like a drink if you aren’t too busy, of course.”
Evidently in your SF, there isn't a prohibition against officers and enlisted commingling (not a problem for SF in the STH series either although it is strictly forbidden for my marines.) Nice character development on Kandro. Also enjoying how far Masafumi has come. Thanks!! rbs
I've always tried to write Star Trek as I imagined that it happened on the television shows and the movies. Besides, Testudo doesn't have Marines or MACOs.
Anyways, thank you for your kind words, RBS. I do enjoy your commentaries.
Anyways, thank you for your kind words, RBS. I do enjoy your commentaries.
I have spent the last two days catching up on 5 pages worth of stories, and WOW! You certainly have a gift. I could see this working as a new Trek show easily. I'm looking forward to more, and to see how you shake up the crew with some new faces...or not?
Chapter Two
15:13 Ship’s Time
Isabel Cardonez dragged a brush through her hair with enough force to untangle the knots that had formed there. She winced in pain but she didn’t cry out. Her hair had never been easy to deal with ever since she was a little girl and it was no harder now.
The reflection in the mirror had changed though.
Even as a child, she had never been truly happy and carefree. When your mother dies at an early age, it leaves a scar. And when you grow up, marooned on a barren planet, you grow up fast.
Still, she thought that she detected a hardness around her eyes that hadn’t been there, a few months ago. A coldness.
She threw the brush down into the empty sink where it clattered noisily. Turning away from the bathroom, she stalked back into the main living area and almost tripped over a half-drunk bottle of tequila. Bending down to pick it up, she sat down on a nearby sofa couch and proceeded to tip the bottle this way and that, watching the liquid slosh from side to side.
She knew that she wasn’t an alcoholic. She had known that type before and she wasn’t the sort to lie to herself. No, she wasn’t an alcoholic but she was getting there.
Her head still hurt from the previous evening when she had downed the other half of the bottle. Part of her craved a drink now but she resisted it. Putting the bottle back down on the floor, she yawned, arching her spine like a cat with her arms stretched above her head. As she ran her hands through her recently un-knotted hair, she glanced around the room. There was nothing to indicate that these had been Liz’s quarters. Tennyson’s possessions were either in storage aboard the ship or they had been transferred to her mother’s house on Earth.
And yet, Cardonez thought that she could still feel a presence in the room. The ghost of Liz. even though she wasn’t dead. Maybe it was just a psychic imprint of the terrible event that had happened here.
“Or maybe I just drink too much,” she muttered under her breath. “Computer,” she said, louder now, “ are there any messages for me?”
“Negative,” came the reply.
Cardonez huffed.
No messages. Well, on the one hand, that was good. She had gotten tired of ignoring the requests from Admiral Gavin for her to confirm her active status.
Let him wait.
She had also gotten tired of making up excuses for members of the crew who had invited her to dinner, or to the holodeck, or to the Backyard. On a more negative note, it meant that there was still no word from Tyrell, the shadowy figure that she had been working for when she had become embroiled in the machinations on Relatrix. Both she and Huntington had been very careful in their reports to skirt around the issue of what put them into Offenhouse. Working for an illegal Federation agency wasn’t likely to help her promotion prospects.
She snorted.
Funny that. Because she should have been bothered at all. She could procrastinate all that she wanted but eventually, she would have to tell the Admiral where he could stuff her four pips.
Then what? A voice inside of her enquired. You’ll drink yourself to death?
She ignored it and concentrated on Tyrell. He hadn’t replied to any of the messages that she was sent on the secret frequency. Maybe he had been caught by Starfleet or maybe he had just written her off as a potential agent once Offenhouse was stopped. Either way, it likely meant that her career as a spy had ended as quickly as it had begun.
She continued to evade the question of what she did next with her life by getting up and grabbing a towel and gym bag from the bedroom. She didn’t want to venture out but if she stayed in this room any longer, she was going to go mad. Maybe a few hours of kicking the hell out of a punching bag would help.
Leaving the cabin, she quickly made her way down to the gym on Deck Nine. She was fortunate to only pass a few members of the crew, nodding her greetings but not stopping to chat. When she reached the gym, however, she discovered that it was full of people. As the doors slid open when she walked in, she saw that the general chatter and sounds of exertion quickly halted when people saw her.
As the crowd of expectant faces turned her way, she knew that this was a bad idea. She had been avoiding the crew for days. Now she wanted to lock herself in a small space with a dozen or so of them. She spun around on her heel, muttering a quiet ‘sorry’ under her breath.
Back in the corridor, she was two steps away before the doors slid shut. Almost immediately, she heard them slide open again. As a voice said,” Captain?”, she considered ignoring it.
Instead she stopped and took a second to compose herself before she turned around.
It was Doctor Marcinowski, looking slightly ridiculous in shorts and a sweat-stained vest. He was wiping his face on a small towel while he drew near. “Doctor,” she said with a tiny nod of her head.
He paused nervously in front of her. Switching his weight from foot to foot while he thought of something to say. She didn’t offer him any help. Finally after wiping most of the sweat from his hairless brow, he spoke. “It’s a bit busy in there,” he said, gesturing back towards the gym.
“Yes, it was,” she conceded. “Was there something that you wanted specifically?”
“Oh, yes, there was. You probably know that the Chikuma will be arriving soon.”
“I know,” she replied, biting her tongue to stop from adding, “I’ll be leaving on it.”
“Yes, of course. Well, the thing is that Nurse Ivek will be leaving and we were having a bit of a bash in the Backyard tonight. Nineteen hundred hours. It would be great if you joined us.”
Cardonez forced a smile. “I’ll see what I can do. For now though, I’ll let you get back to your workout.” She turned around on her heels and carried on down the corridor.
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later then,” Marcinowski called after her.
Cardonez didn’t respond. She just kept walking. The trouble was that she had no idea where she was going. Acting on autopilot, she entered the first turbolift that she could find and ordered,” Deck Nineteen.” As the lift started to descend, she relaxed a little. Maybe she could find a little peace and quiet down there.
****
15:43 Ship’s Time.
The Backyard was empty. The fact should have made Kandro happy but it didn’t. It was merely the calm before the storm. After sixteen hundred hours, when their shift ended, Rixx alone knew how many crewmembers would be on their way to the bar. He was sitting behind the bar, nursing a Coke-Cola, a cold drink that Liz have introduced him to. He was considering trying to feign injury to escape the rest of the shift. The thought of working until twenty-two hundred hours was daunting.
He was so engrossed in his own problems that he barely heard the doors slide open.
“Two T’kera teas,” a gruff voice said from the other side of the bar.
Kandro recognized Crewman Dru’sk, the young Klingon Security Officer. He was taken aback by who his drinking partner was.
Ensign T’Vell was a young Vulcan woman who worked very studiously in the ship’s Exobiology Department. She was only around forty years old and quite attractive as Vulcans went, especially with her long dark hair pulled back taut with her smooth yellowish-tinged face revealing the delicate points of her ears. Kandro always had a thing about pointed ears but he had no idea why. He found it hard to believe that the two of them would have ever said hello to one another. Let alone be friendly enough to have a drink together.
“We require two T’kera teas, please, Lieutenant,” she said when the Betazoid didn’t immediately respond.
“What? Oh, sorry. Two teas, gotcha,” he replied and moved back towards the replicators. “You know, they take a few minutes to prepare. Why don’t you grab a seat and I’ll bring them over.”
“That is acceptable,” said T’Vell.
“Thanks,” said Dru’sk. He was never more than monosyllabic if he could help it.
Kandro prepared two cups and he poured the first ingredient in. Before he added the second ingredient, he cast a glance over his shoulder and watched the two mismatched crew members walk towards a table. He saw that it was a table with one of the best views of the Testudo’s ‘backyard’. It was notoriously the place that one went to on a date.
A date?, he wondered to himself. A less than talkative Klingon and a logical Vulcan scientist?
Damn, he hated not having his empathic abilities anymore. This would have been so easy, a few months ago. Now though, his curiosity went unanswered.
Slipping the second ingredient into each cup, he gently stirred both of them. Each ingredient of T’kera tea was ice-cold but when mixed together, they bonded at the molecular level, forming a steaming hot white liquid. Sprinkling a pinch of brown sugar on top of each drink, Kandro placed them on a tray and prepared to take them over.
Then he almost dropped the tray. Dru’sk was laughing, and it wasn’t a polite laugh either. This was a rip-roaring Klingon belly laugh. Kandro composed himself and walked over. He saw a slight smile on T’Vell’s face.
Could it be that she had just told him a joke?, he wondered. Damn, this was really annoying him.
“Here you go,” he said, setting each drink down before them.
“Thanks,” said Dru’sk.
“Yes,” said T’Vell,” thank you, Lieutenant.”
Kandro remained where he was standing, smiling and clasping the now empty tray to his chest. The Klingon and the Vulcan looked at each other before they looked at the Betazoid’s expectant face.
“We do not require anything else,” said T’Vell.
“I know,” Kandro said. “I was just a little bored and I wondered what you two were up to?” Years of feeling other peoples’ emotions had left him a little lacking in subtlety.
“Ah, I see,” said T’Vell. “It is quite simple.” He leaned in, just a touch. “We are having a cup of T’kera tea in Testudo’s bar.”
Dru’sk laughed again.
Kandro nodded and said,” Funny lady.”
“Funny?,” T’Vell asked, straight-faced. “I was merely stating the obvious.” Her face was a blank wall to Valian but he swore that he saw something almost imperceptible in her eyes.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll leave you to your drinks.” He went back to the bar and he was actually beginning to look forward to the rush now. It might silence the sound of Dru’sk’s laughter ringing in his ears.
****
15:59 Ship’s Time
Yashiro Masafumi was early and the holodeck was empty.
It was merely a black-walled room with the familiar yellow checkered effect on the walls. He was pacing up and down, wondering where Kehen had gotten to when the doors opened. He turned around, a smile already forming on his lips in anticipation of seeing his love.
The smile vanished before it had finished forming. “Commander?”
Lieutenant Commander Adam Huntington stood in the doorway as if he was unwilling to enter any further and have the door close behind him. “Captain?” He almost spat out the word. “What’s going on? I got a message from Doctor Hollem, telling me to be here at sixteen hundred hours. He said that he had found a new holo-novel that he wanted to show me. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m here to meet Zia,” said Masafumi. “We have this holodeck booked for the next two hours.”
“Well, there must have been some mix-up. Doctor Hollem has been known to be a little forgetful, sometimes. He probably didn’t book the room,” Huntington said and he began to turn away.
“”He didn’t book the holodeck but not because he forgot,” said a voice coming from behind Huntington. Masafumi couldn’t see who it was but he recognized the voice instantly.
Huntington stood off to one side to let Kehen enter the holodeck. “Please come in, Commander,” she said. “The whole ship doesn’t need to hear this conversation.”
Huntington looked like he was slightly bemused. However, Masafumi felt his blood beginning to boil. “Zia! I don’t know what you’re planning but stop it now and return to your duties,” he said with force.
“No,” she simply said before she turned towards Huntington. “Just give me five minutes, Commander. That’s all that I ask.”
Huntington appeared to consider this a moment before he stepped further inside. The doors slid shit, sealing the three of them inside.
“Commander, this is a personal matter,” Masafumi said, his eyes burning into Kehen’s. “I would like you to leave.”
“What on Earth is going on?,” demanded the Security Chief.
“Go now, Commander! That’s a direct order,” Masafumi barked. “Lieutenant Kehen, if you don’t return to your duties right now, I’ll see you up on charges.”
Kehen remained unbowed, staring back at her Captain and lover. “No,” she repeated softly.
“Look, this is clearly a domestic matter,” Huntington said, turning back towards the doors. “I’ll be getting back to the Bridge.”
“Thank you, Commander. Your assistance is most – “
“I altered the sensor logs, not the Captain!,” Zia shouted, out of the blue, her words echoing off of the walls. It seemed to hang in the air for several seconds.
Huntington paused and turned back around. For a moment, the three of them merely looked at each other.
It was the Captain who broke the silence. “Zia, what foolishness is this? The Commander is well aware that it was I who altered the sensor logs in order to save the Melokians.” He looked at Huntington and forced a smile. “I apologize, Commander. She’s trying to save my career, even though I’ve told her that it’s futile. Love is a powerful thing but… I accepted losing my Captaincy as my punishment. Please, just ignore her.”
“You won’t ignore me,” the Yulanian said. “I can prove that it was me.”
“Zia!,” Masafumi cut in. “The Commander knows quite well that it was me. Isn’t that right, Huntington?”
Huntington had one arm across his abdomen. The elbow of his other arm rested on it while he stroked his chin in the classic thinking pose. Suddenly, he smiled and nodded sagely. “Now all of the pieces begin to fall into place.”
“What pieces? What are you talking about? You know perfectly well that it was me. You’re not taking the word of a junior officer over a captain, are you?”
“The pieces of the puzzle that bugged me after Melokia. I wondered why you had been so lax in erasing the evidence. It was you.”
“I…I wasn’t thinking straight… I was rushing… I …”
“You’re far too meticulous of a scientist to make such an error,” said Huntington. “And you.” He turned towards Kehen. “It was staring at me in the face. The rare element that might make Melokia so valuable enough for someone to wipe out the population is that metal just happened to exist only on Yulan.” Huntington shook his head sadly. “I must be getting old. I would have figured it out a lot quicker, ten years ago.”
“You have no proof,” Masafumi said, his voice sounding lame, even to him.
Huntington looked at him. “There was never any reason for me to dig deeper before but if I needed to… I could take the sensor logs apart, piece by piece until I discovered what your footprint was hiding. Plus I have Lieutenant Kehen’s confession.”
“Okay, so you know the truth now,” Masafumi said, casting a worried look at Kehen. “Now, what happens?”
“When did you find out what she had done?”
“I was suspicious, right away but I suppose my subconsciousness overruled my fears. I had been looking for an excuse to save the Melokians anyway. It was a few hours later when it clicked into place. The Yulani metal was the clincher.”
“Hey,” said Kehen,” I had to come up with something quick!”
Masafumi smiled at her. His earlier rage had subsided now, only to be replaced by concern. “Once I suspected it, it was easy to find the evidence. A fine pilot you may be, Zia, but a computer whiz, you’re not. I knew if anyone looked closely enough, they would spot the evidence.”
“So you covered it up, the only way that you could was by using your own codes,” said Huntington.
Masafumi nodded. “Yes, it was my hope that my tampering would be less obvious and also that no one would look.” He paused for a moment. “You didn’t answer my question. Now what?”
“Now you get your command back,” said Kehen.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? The Commander knows the truth now…”
“It changes nothing,” said Masafumi. “The only way to retract my letter to Admiral Gavin would be to explain the whole story. Not only would that implicate you. It would probably cost you your career, but it wouldn’t achieve the desired effect. What use is a Captain who covers up a major violation? No, things are better left alone.”
“You’re forgetting,” said Huntington,” that I know the truth now.”
“Yes, you do,” said Masafumi. “The question is what will you do with it?”
Adam looked at Zia. “I noticed that a new promotions list was published earlier. I had expected Kehen to be on it.”
“I didn’t deserve it,” she said.
“A sorry punishment,” said Masafumi,” but a punishment nonetheless.”
Huntington nodded. “There would appear to be little to be gained by exposing the truth. Besides, if I did that, I would have to explain why I didn’t turn you in at the time.” He smiled at Masafumi.
Masafumi smiled back. “Yes, that would be unfortunate, wouldn’t it?”
Kehen sighed. Oh, well, I might have not helped you stay Captain but, at least, you two are friends again now… right?”
The Asian shook his head. “No, I don’t believe we are.”
“Agreed,” said the Englishman. “You should have told me the truth. Do you really think that I would have thrown her in the Brig?”
“I couldn’t take the chance. Besides, you could have trusted me.”
“I don’t believe this macho pride bullshit!,” Kehen shouted. “Do you, at least, hate each other less than you did, half an hour ago?”
“Probably,” said Huntington.
Perhaps,” said Masafumi.
“Then talk it through. Work it out. Hell, have a fist fight if it needs to be. But get your friendship back. We had some good memories on this ship. Don’t spoil them.”
Masafumi walked over and took her into his arms. “You know, Zia, just occasionally, you actually do talk sense.” He kissed her forehead.
Kehen hugged him back. “And what about you?,” she asked Huntington.
“Well, with Mister Carson running the Bridge, I don’t see what the harm would be in talking,” he replied.
Kehen untangled herself from Masafumi’s arms. “Good,” she said,” because this holodeck is still booked for the next two hours and I have a special holographic program that’s perfect for you guys to bond over.” She winked at them. “It took me ages to find.”
“What kind of program?,” asked Yashiro.
“You’ll see. Just run the program but wait until I’m gone. It’s really not my thing.” She began walking towards the doors which slid open silently when she walked near them. “See you in the bar later!”
Then she was gone.
As the doors closed shut, Masafumi and Huntington looked at one another.
“I wonder what it is?,” said the Captain.
“There’s only one way to find out,” said Huntington. “Computer, run program.”
15:13 Ship’s Time
Isabel Cardonez dragged a brush through her hair with enough force to untangle the knots that had formed there. She winced in pain but she didn’t cry out. Her hair had never been easy to deal with ever since she was a little girl and it was no harder now.
The reflection in the mirror had changed though.
Even as a child, she had never been truly happy and carefree. When your mother dies at an early age, it leaves a scar. And when you grow up, marooned on a barren planet, you grow up fast.
Still, she thought that she detected a hardness around her eyes that hadn’t been there, a few months ago. A coldness.
She threw the brush down into the empty sink where it clattered noisily. Turning away from the bathroom, she stalked back into the main living area and almost tripped over a half-drunk bottle of tequila. Bending down to pick it up, she sat down on a nearby sofa couch and proceeded to tip the bottle this way and that, watching the liquid slosh from side to side.
She knew that she wasn’t an alcoholic. She had known that type before and she wasn’t the sort to lie to herself. No, she wasn’t an alcoholic but she was getting there.
Her head still hurt from the previous evening when she had downed the other half of the bottle. Part of her craved a drink now but she resisted it. Putting the bottle back down on the floor, she yawned, arching her spine like a cat with her arms stretched above her head. As she ran her hands through her recently un-knotted hair, she glanced around the room. There was nothing to indicate that these had been Liz’s quarters. Tennyson’s possessions were either in storage aboard the ship or they had been transferred to her mother’s house on Earth.
And yet, Cardonez thought that she could still feel a presence in the room. The ghost of Liz. even though she wasn’t dead. Maybe it was just a psychic imprint of the terrible event that had happened here.
“Or maybe I just drink too much,” she muttered under her breath. “Computer,” she said, louder now, “ are there any messages for me?”
“Negative,” came the reply.
Cardonez huffed.
No messages. Well, on the one hand, that was good. She had gotten tired of ignoring the requests from Admiral Gavin for her to confirm her active status.
Let him wait.
She had also gotten tired of making up excuses for members of the crew who had invited her to dinner, or to the holodeck, or to the Backyard. On a more negative note, it meant that there was still no word from Tyrell, the shadowy figure that she had been working for when she had become embroiled in the machinations on Relatrix. Both she and Huntington had been very careful in their reports to skirt around the issue of what put them into Offenhouse. Working for an illegal Federation agency wasn’t likely to help her promotion prospects.
She snorted.
Funny that. Because she should have been bothered at all. She could procrastinate all that she wanted but eventually, she would have to tell the Admiral where he could stuff her four pips.
Then what? A voice inside of her enquired. You’ll drink yourself to death?
She ignored it and concentrated on Tyrell. He hadn’t replied to any of the messages that she was sent on the secret frequency. Maybe he had been caught by Starfleet or maybe he had just written her off as a potential agent once Offenhouse was stopped. Either way, it likely meant that her career as a spy had ended as quickly as it had begun.
She continued to evade the question of what she did next with her life by getting up and grabbing a towel and gym bag from the bedroom. She didn’t want to venture out but if she stayed in this room any longer, she was going to go mad. Maybe a few hours of kicking the hell out of a punching bag would help.
Leaving the cabin, she quickly made her way down to the gym on Deck Nine. She was fortunate to only pass a few members of the crew, nodding her greetings but not stopping to chat. When she reached the gym, however, she discovered that it was full of people. As the doors slid open when she walked in, she saw that the general chatter and sounds of exertion quickly halted when people saw her.
As the crowd of expectant faces turned her way, she knew that this was a bad idea. She had been avoiding the crew for days. Now she wanted to lock herself in a small space with a dozen or so of them. She spun around on her heel, muttering a quiet ‘sorry’ under her breath.
Back in the corridor, she was two steps away before the doors slid shut. Almost immediately, she heard them slide open again. As a voice said,” Captain?”, she considered ignoring it.
Instead she stopped and took a second to compose herself before she turned around.
It was Doctor Marcinowski, looking slightly ridiculous in shorts and a sweat-stained vest. He was wiping his face on a small towel while he drew near. “Doctor,” she said with a tiny nod of her head.
He paused nervously in front of her. Switching his weight from foot to foot while he thought of something to say. She didn’t offer him any help. Finally after wiping most of the sweat from his hairless brow, he spoke. “It’s a bit busy in there,” he said, gesturing back towards the gym.
“Yes, it was,” she conceded. “Was there something that you wanted specifically?”
“Oh, yes, there was. You probably know that the Chikuma will be arriving soon.”
“I know,” she replied, biting her tongue to stop from adding, “I’ll be leaving on it.”
“Yes, of course. Well, the thing is that Nurse Ivek will be leaving and we were having a bit of a bash in the Backyard tonight. Nineteen hundred hours. It would be great if you joined us.”
Cardonez forced a smile. “I’ll see what I can do. For now though, I’ll let you get back to your workout.” She turned around on her heels and carried on down the corridor.
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later then,” Marcinowski called after her.
Cardonez didn’t respond. She just kept walking. The trouble was that she had no idea where she was going. Acting on autopilot, she entered the first turbolift that she could find and ordered,” Deck Nineteen.” As the lift started to descend, she relaxed a little. Maybe she could find a little peace and quiet down there.
****
15:43 Ship’s Time.
The Backyard was empty. The fact should have made Kandro happy but it didn’t. It was merely the calm before the storm. After sixteen hundred hours, when their shift ended, Rixx alone knew how many crewmembers would be on their way to the bar. He was sitting behind the bar, nursing a Coke-Cola, a cold drink that Liz have introduced him to. He was considering trying to feign injury to escape the rest of the shift. The thought of working until twenty-two hundred hours was daunting.
He was so engrossed in his own problems that he barely heard the doors slide open.
“Two T’kera teas,” a gruff voice said from the other side of the bar.
Kandro recognized Crewman Dru’sk, the young Klingon Security Officer. He was taken aback by who his drinking partner was.
Ensign T’Vell was a young Vulcan woman who worked very studiously in the ship’s Exobiology Department. She was only around forty years old and quite attractive as Vulcans went, especially with her long dark hair pulled back taut with her smooth yellowish-tinged face revealing the delicate points of her ears. Kandro always had a thing about pointed ears but he had no idea why. He found it hard to believe that the two of them would have ever said hello to one another. Let alone be friendly enough to have a drink together.
“We require two T’kera teas, please, Lieutenant,” she said when the Betazoid didn’t immediately respond.
“What? Oh, sorry. Two teas, gotcha,” he replied and moved back towards the replicators. “You know, they take a few minutes to prepare. Why don’t you grab a seat and I’ll bring them over.”
“That is acceptable,” said T’Vell.
“Thanks,” said Dru’sk. He was never more than monosyllabic if he could help it.
Kandro prepared two cups and he poured the first ingredient in. Before he added the second ingredient, he cast a glance over his shoulder and watched the two mismatched crew members walk towards a table. He saw that it was a table with one of the best views of the Testudo’s ‘backyard’. It was notoriously the place that one went to on a date.
A date?, he wondered to himself. A less than talkative Klingon and a logical Vulcan scientist?
Damn, he hated not having his empathic abilities anymore. This would have been so easy, a few months ago. Now though, his curiosity went unanswered.
Slipping the second ingredient into each cup, he gently stirred both of them. Each ingredient of T’kera tea was ice-cold but when mixed together, they bonded at the molecular level, forming a steaming hot white liquid. Sprinkling a pinch of brown sugar on top of each drink, Kandro placed them on a tray and prepared to take them over.
Then he almost dropped the tray. Dru’sk was laughing, and it wasn’t a polite laugh either. This was a rip-roaring Klingon belly laugh. Kandro composed himself and walked over. He saw a slight smile on T’Vell’s face.
Could it be that she had just told him a joke?, he wondered. Damn, this was really annoying him.
“Here you go,” he said, setting each drink down before them.
“Thanks,” said Dru’sk.
“Yes,” said T’Vell,” thank you, Lieutenant.”
Kandro remained where he was standing, smiling and clasping the now empty tray to his chest. The Klingon and the Vulcan looked at each other before they looked at the Betazoid’s expectant face.
“We do not require anything else,” said T’Vell.
“I know,” Kandro said. “I was just a little bored and I wondered what you two were up to?” Years of feeling other peoples’ emotions had left him a little lacking in subtlety.
“Ah, I see,” said T’Vell. “It is quite simple.” He leaned in, just a touch. “We are having a cup of T’kera tea in Testudo’s bar.”
Dru’sk laughed again.
Kandro nodded and said,” Funny lady.”
“Funny?,” T’Vell asked, straight-faced. “I was merely stating the obvious.” Her face was a blank wall to Valian but he swore that he saw something almost imperceptible in her eyes.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll leave you to your drinks.” He went back to the bar and he was actually beginning to look forward to the rush now. It might silence the sound of Dru’sk’s laughter ringing in his ears.
****
15:59 Ship’s Time
Yashiro Masafumi was early and the holodeck was empty.
It was merely a black-walled room with the familiar yellow checkered effect on the walls. He was pacing up and down, wondering where Kehen had gotten to when the doors opened. He turned around, a smile already forming on his lips in anticipation of seeing his love.
The smile vanished before it had finished forming. “Commander?”
Lieutenant Commander Adam Huntington stood in the doorway as if he was unwilling to enter any further and have the door close behind him. “Captain?” He almost spat out the word. “What’s going on? I got a message from Doctor Hollem, telling me to be here at sixteen hundred hours. He said that he had found a new holo-novel that he wanted to show me. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m here to meet Zia,” said Masafumi. “We have this holodeck booked for the next two hours.”
“Well, there must have been some mix-up. Doctor Hollem has been known to be a little forgetful, sometimes. He probably didn’t book the room,” Huntington said and he began to turn away.
“”He didn’t book the holodeck but not because he forgot,” said a voice coming from behind Huntington. Masafumi couldn’t see who it was but he recognized the voice instantly.
Huntington stood off to one side to let Kehen enter the holodeck. “Please come in, Commander,” she said. “The whole ship doesn’t need to hear this conversation.”
Huntington looked like he was slightly bemused. However, Masafumi felt his blood beginning to boil. “Zia! I don’t know what you’re planning but stop it now and return to your duties,” he said with force.
“No,” she simply said before she turned towards Huntington. “Just give me five minutes, Commander. That’s all that I ask.”
Huntington appeared to consider this a moment before he stepped further inside. The doors slid shit, sealing the three of them inside.
“Commander, this is a personal matter,” Masafumi said, his eyes burning into Kehen’s. “I would like you to leave.”
“What on Earth is going on?,” demanded the Security Chief.
“Go now, Commander! That’s a direct order,” Masafumi barked. “Lieutenant Kehen, if you don’t return to your duties right now, I’ll see you up on charges.”
Kehen remained unbowed, staring back at her Captain and lover. “No,” she repeated softly.
“Look, this is clearly a domestic matter,” Huntington said, turning back towards the doors. “I’ll be getting back to the Bridge.”
“Thank you, Commander. Your assistance is most – “
“I altered the sensor logs, not the Captain!,” Zia shouted, out of the blue, her words echoing off of the walls. It seemed to hang in the air for several seconds.
Huntington paused and turned back around. For a moment, the three of them merely looked at each other.
It was the Captain who broke the silence. “Zia, what foolishness is this? The Commander is well aware that it was I who altered the sensor logs in order to save the Melokians.” He looked at Huntington and forced a smile. “I apologize, Commander. She’s trying to save my career, even though I’ve told her that it’s futile. Love is a powerful thing but… I accepted losing my Captaincy as my punishment. Please, just ignore her.”
“You won’t ignore me,” the Yulanian said. “I can prove that it was me.”
“Zia!,” Masafumi cut in. “The Commander knows quite well that it was me. Isn’t that right, Huntington?”
Huntington had one arm across his abdomen. The elbow of his other arm rested on it while he stroked his chin in the classic thinking pose. Suddenly, he smiled and nodded sagely. “Now all of the pieces begin to fall into place.”
“What pieces? What are you talking about? You know perfectly well that it was me. You’re not taking the word of a junior officer over a captain, are you?”
“The pieces of the puzzle that bugged me after Melokia. I wondered why you had been so lax in erasing the evidence. It was you.”
“I…I wasn’t thinking straight… I was rushing… I …”
“You’re far too meticulous of a scientist to make such an error,” said Huntington. “And you.” He turned towards Kehen. “It was staring at me in the face. The rare element that might make Melokia so valuable enough for someone to wipe out the population is that metal just happened to exist only on Yulan.” Huntington shook his head sadly. “I must be getting old. I would have figured it out a lot quicker, ten years ago.”
“You have no proof,” Masafumi said, his voice sounding lame, even to him.
Huntington looked at him. “There was never any reason for me to dig deeper before but if I needed to… I could take the sensor logs apart, piece by piece until I discovered what your footprint was hiding. Plus I have Lieutenant Kehen’s confession.”
“Okay, so you know the truth now,” Masafumi said, casting a worried look at Kehen. “Now, what happens?”
“When did you find out what she had done?”
“I was suspicious, right away but I suppose my subconsciousness overruled my fears. I had been looking for an excuse to save the Melokians anyway. It was a few hours later when it clicked into place. The Yulani metal was the clincher.”
“Hey,” said Kehen,” I had to come up with something quick!”
Masafumi smiled at her. His earlier rage had subsided now, only to be replaced by concern. “Once I suspected it, it was easy to find the evidence. A fine pilot you may be, Zia, but a computer whiz, you’re not. I knew if anyone looked closely enough, they would spot the evidence.”
“So you covered it up, the only way that you could was by using your own codes,” said Huntington.
Masafumi nodded. “Yes, it was my hope that my tampering would be less obvious and also that no one would look.” He paused for a moment. “You didn’t answer my question. Now what?”
“Now you get your command back,” said Kehen.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? The Commander knows the truth now…”
“It changes nothing,” said Masafumi. “The only way to retract my letter to Admiral Gavin would be to explain the whole story. Not only would that implicate you. It would probably cost you your career, but it wouldn’t achieve the desired effect. What use is a Captain who covers up a major violation? No, things are better left alone.”
“You’re forgetting,” said Huntington,” that I know the truth now.”
“Yes, you do,” said Masafumi. “The question is what will you do with it?”
Adam looked at Zia. “I noticed that a new promotions list was published earlier. I had expected Kehen to be on it.”
“I didn’t deserve it,” she said.
“A sorry punishment,” said Masafumi,” but a punishment nonetheless.”
Huntington nodded. “There would appear to be little to be gained by exposing the truth. Besides, if I did that, I would have to explain why I didn’t turn you in at the time.” He smiled at Masafumi.
Masafumi smiled back. “Yes, that would be unfortunate, wouldn’t it?”
Kehen sighed. Oh, well, I might have not helped you stay Captain but, at least, you two are friends again now… right?”
The Asian shook his head. “No, I don’t believe we are.”
“Agreed,” said the Englishman. “You should have told me the truth. Do you really think that I would have thrown her in the Brig?”
“I couldn’t take the chance. Besides, you could have trusted me.”
“I don’t believe this macho pride bullshit!,” Kehen shouted. “Do you, at least, hate each other less than you did, half an hour ago?”
“Probably,” said Huntington.
Perhaps,” said Masafumi.
“Then talk it through. Work it out. Hell, have a fist fight if it needs to be. But get your friendship back. We had some good memories on this ship. Don’t spoil them.”
Masafumi walked over and took her into his arms. “You know, Zia, just occasionally, you actually do talk sense.” He kissed her forehead.
Kehen hugged him back. “And what about you?,” she asked Huntington.
“Well, with Mister Carson running the Bridge, I don’t see what the harm would be in talking,” he replied.
Kehen untangled herself from Masafumi’s arms. “Good,” she said,” because this holodeck is still booked for the next two hours and I have a special holographic program that’s perfect for you guys to bond over.” She winked at them. “It took me ages to find.”
“What kind of program?,” asked Yashiro.
“You’ll see. Just run the program but wait until I’m gone. It’s really not my thing.” She began walking towards the doors which slid open silently when she walked near them. “See you in the bar later!”
Then she was gone.
As the doors closed shut, Masafumi and Huntington looked at one another.
“I wonder what it is?,” said the Captain.
“There’s only one way to find out,” said Huntington. “Computer, run program.”
I got a chuckle out of that last scene. Very much straight from the franchise. Thanks! rbs
Chapter Three
16:42 Ship’s Time.
“Come on, Valian. You’ll love it,” said Ensign Alec Carter, his stool propping up against the bar with a half-empty glass of ale in front of him.
Kandro shook his head. “I really won’t have the time, Alec. The performance starts at ten and that’s when I finish my shift.”
The blonde Australian wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “So?,” he asked. “I’ll have a word with Lieutenant Carson. I’m sure that he won’t mind delaying the start by a few minutes. It’s the second performance of the night so they’ll probably appreciate the extra time.”
Kandro shook his head once more. “Really, thanks for asking but no.”
Carter was about to speak again but someone else got in first. “Two ales, please,” said Ensign Thaelan, the Andorian’s antennae wiggling in the air when he spoke.
Kandro nodded and began to pour the first ale.
“Pam Tilmoore’s playing Cecily,” Carter said, raising his eyebrows at Kandro. “I hear that she looks cute in period costume.”
Kandro looked up momentarily before starting on pouring the second glass of ale.
“It’s a fine play,” Thaelan said, adding his thoughts to the conversation whether they were welcomed or not. “I saw the opening performance last night. I haven’t really heard of this Oscar Wilde person before but he writes an amusing play. And Lieutenant Hammerschmidt made an imposing Lady Blacknell.”
“I’ll bet she did,” the Betazoid said, imagining the middle-aged biologist whose ego was as ample as her frame.
“It’s Bracknell,” corrected Carter.
Thaelan failed to notice. “A handbag?,” he quoted suddenly before laughing. “Hilarious.”
Carter giggled. An Andorian approximation of an upper-class English accent was something to behold.
“Two ales,” Kandro said, placing the drinks on the bar in front of Thaelan.
The Andorian’s antennae wiggled again in thanks and he picked up his drinks before walking away. After a few steps, Kandro and Carter heard, “A handbag?” once more followed by more laughter.
Carter looked at Kandro and laughed.
Kandro wanted to laugh too but it wouldn’t come. For a Betazoid, half of the humor arose from feeling another person laughing. Instead, he simply said,” He always was easily amused.”
“This is nothing,” said Carter. “I hear that Carson wants to do Rocky Horror in a few months. That should really weird Thaelan out.”
“Really? The Importance of Being Earnest to the Rocky Horror Picture Show? Eclectic producer, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. I think he wants to do the Kretek trilogy after that.”
“Oh, joy,” said Kandro. “Epic Klingon tragedy. That’ll be a barrel of laughs.”
“All the more reason to catch the funny plays while you can,” pressed Carter.
Kandro sidestepped that statement. “How come you know that Rocky Horror is coming?”
The Ensign stood a little straighter and puffed his chest out with pride. “Simple. He’s cast me as Rocky.”
“You? Playing the ultimate man?” This time, the laughter came out in a wave and Kandro found that he was laughing so hard that his stomach began to hurt.
“What’s so funny?” Carter was genuinely nonplussed.
“The… thought of… you… running around… in gold pants…,” Valian said between painful gasps. His eyes were watering but he managed to compose himself. “The ultimate man!” His composure disintegrated when he laughed again. “Oh, well, I suppose it’s inspired casting. Rocky only has half a brain after all.”
“Laugh it up, fur ball,” Carter said with mock indignation.
Kandro did. In fact, he was laughing so hard that when two crew members came up to the bar, they had to wait over a minute for him to stop laughing enough to take their orders.
****
16:55 Ship’s Time
“Goal!!,” Adam Huntington and Yashiro Masafumi shouted together. Both of them leapt up from their seats, punching their hands in the air in unison with fifty thousand holographic supporters around them. On the pitch below, the goal scorer, a sandy-haired young man in an all-white strip, wheeled around and began to run along the touchline with his arm raised high in the air. His teammates ran after him, whooping with delight. Opposition players in red and blue stood around, looking bemused. Or, at least, the Vulcan equivalent of being bemused.
After a few minutes, the crowd settled down as the ball was replaced on the center circle. Masafumi and Huntington sat down with them. “Fantastic goal,” the Asian said. “Stok never even saw it coming.”
“He didn’t see it until he was kicking it out of the nest,” agreed the Englishman sitting by his side. “Where on Earth do you think Kehen dug this up from?”
“Who knows? All I’ve ever seen are stills from the game.”
The game in question was the first annual Earth versus Vulcan Charity Cup. The year was 2099 and the venue was the Gandhi Stadium in Calcutta. The idea of the match was to foster Human-Vulcan relations and it was the first sporting event ever to be shown simultaneously on Earth and Vulcan. It was famous as well because against the odds, the Human team actually won. Partially, this win was down to the Vulcans’ unfamiliarity with the game but it didn’t matter. That Humans had defeated physically superior opponents through sheer determination and superior tactics.
Critics claimed that rather than foster relations, it actually harmed them with xenophobic Humans seizing on the game as a repudiation of Human superiority. It was also argued that the game was the main reason that the Vulcans spent the next century, looking down on Humans. They had been embarrassed and proceeded to take it out on Humanity for decades to come. Of course, those who knew better argued that the Vulcans’ logical nature would never allow them to have such an emotive response.
Of course, the next year, the Vulcans came better prepared, having spent a year of learning and practicing all that they could about football. After the fifteen-nil defeat, Earth decided that an annual game wasn’t a really good idea after all and it was never repeated.
“Well, that’s halftime,” said Huntington when the referee blew his whistle and both sides began to trudge off of the pitch. The crowd around them were on their feet, applauding, and the two Starfleet officers did likewise.
“No goals to come in the second half, unfortunately,” said Masafumi.
“Ah, but some very resolute defending on Earth’s part.”
An uncomfortable silence descended on the two men after that as they scanned the ground.
“This isn’t working, is it?,” Huntington asked him.
Masafumi looked sadly over at him. “No, it isn’t. We’ve hardly talked about anything but the match?”
“So, what do we do?”
Masafumi pondered the question for a moment. “Well, there is one thing that we could do.”
Huntington smiled. “If it’s a fist fight, I have to warn you. You’re out of your league.”
“Really? That wasn’t my assertion but perhaps we should test that theory of yours someday. No, my idea is a lot less violent.” Masafumi paused before asking,” May I?” He was gesturing to the holographic world around them. Huntington nodded. “Computer, delete the crowd and the players.”
The stadium full of bustle and the noise of thousands of people disappeared, rendering it empty and eerily silent.
“Okay, I wasn’t expecting that,” said Huntington. “Now what?”
“Now you follow me,” Masafumi said and he began the long walk down the stadium steps towards the pitch.
A moment later, the Security Chief shrugged his shoulders and followed.
****
17:00 Ship’s Time
“I said, get me a drink,” said the young Ensign in Command Red from across the bar.
“I said I’d get you a drink when I’ve served these two,” said Kandro, gesturing towards the two female crewmen sitting at the other end of the bar.
“I was here first.”
“Yeah, but they’re prettier,” the Betazoid said, honestly. “Now, stop complaining, Wenden, or I won’t serve you next.” He turned towards the two girls, smiling broadly. “Now then, what can I get you two?”
The girl on the right, a pretty redhead from Engineering, opened her mouth to speak but she never got the chance.
“He’s more concerned with what he can give you!,” shouted Wenden from across the bar.
Kandro smiled tightly. “You know what? He was here first. So I’d better get him a drink now. I’ll be back in a few seconds.” As he turned away, the smile faded to be replaced by a frown when he walked over to Wenden. “What do you want?,” he asked angrily.
“Altair Water,” replied Wenden, one of the Testudo’s shuttle pilots who occasionally manned the helm.
Kandro ducked under the bar and returned with a bottle which he proceeded to bang down hard on the bar. Grabbing a glass, he thumped it down hard on the bartop. “I don’t like you,” he said while he poured a glass of water, filling it right up to the top spitefully.
“That’s good because I dislike you greatly as well,” Wenden said with a smile. He reached out with a webbed hand and took his water before he turned away to find a seat.
Kandro shrugged. He might not have liked Wenden but there was an honesty about him such as there was with all Zaldans. Zaldan’s didn’t believe in Human courtesy and so there was never any sense of pretense with them. He might now perceive most people as ghosts of their former slaves but strangely enough, Wenden wasn’t one of them.
Shaking his head sagely, he turned back towards the two pretty girls, a smile already composing itself on his face. However, they were nowhere to be seen. In their place stood Maxine Herman, a dour-faced woman in her fifties who was Testudo’s Senior Nurse.
Herman was taken by surprise with Kandro’s smile. Few people actually smiled at her anymore. They usually looked scared or worried. It wasn’t for nothing since she was known as Nurse Battleaxe behind her back. The look on her face was all the incentive that Kandro needed to keep smiling. Unnerving Nurse Battleaxe wasn’t something that someone did everyday. In fact, a few months ago, he would have known that she was behind him and never would have smiled.
I’ve missed this!, he thought.
“Hi, Nurse Herman. What can I get you?,” he asked her, his smile widening.
****
17:05 Ship’s Time
Isabel Cardonez was still aimlessly wandering the corridors of the ship. I’m like a ghost in one of those old movies, she thought. All I need is a white sheet and some chains. Perhaps some wailing…
Deck Nineteen had been far too busy. How was she to know that Engineering was upgrading the internal sensors on that deck?
And so her wandering led her here. Cargo Bay Two.
“Hi, Captain,” Ensign Pamela Tilmoore said, the diminutive Security Officer who was standing by the doors. “You look lost.”
Cardonez smiled. “I think I know my way around the ship, Ensign.”
Tilmoore quickly bowed her head and looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean to – “
“It’s Isabel, not Captain,” she corrected her before smiling,” and I might just hit the next person who calls me Captain.”
“I’m sorry,” Tilmoore said again. “You know, it takes a bit of getting used to.”
“What? Not calling me Captain? Come on, Pamela. It’s not like I was your first ever Captain or anything.”
Tilmoore smiled. “Actually you were,” she said. “After the Academy, I went straight to work on the shuttle run. The most senior officer at the Shuttle Bay was a Lieutenant Commander. Then Commander Huntington brought me here.” She shrugged. “And the rest is history.”
Cardonez gave a short laugh. “Well, there you go. I was a lousy Captain. I didn’t even know that.”
“Well, to be honest, there are still people that I pass in the corridor whose names that I can’t remember. I think it’s great that you always remember who’s who.”
“Nothing supernatural there. I’m sure that Masafumi knows everyone too.”
“Yes, he does, and he’s been a great Captain but…”
“But?,” asked Cardonez.
“Permission to speak freely?,” asked Tilmoore, drawing herself to stand at attention.
“Don’t be silly. Just tell me what it is.” Tilmoore didn’t move. Her eyes remained focused ahead of her with his shoulders rigid. For a moment, Cardonez didn’t know what to say and then she remembered that she was still a Starfleet Captain, if only for a brief time together and the Security Officer deserved to be treated with respect.
“Permission granted,” she added.
Tilmoore relaxed, just slightly. “Captain Masafumi has been wonderful and then I think he had a great teacher and most of the crew is a little pissed off that they have to lose two great captains tomorrow.”
“Really?,” asked Cardonez.
Tilmoore looked up at her now, a defiant tilt to her head. “Yes, really,” she said. “Most of the crew is too afraid to say it but there are going to be a lot of transfer requests flooding through in the next few days.”
“That’s life on a Starship. Get used to it.” For some reason, she was getting angry. Was it at Tilmoore or herself?
“We shouldn’t have to,” said Tilmoore. “You’re a great Captain and I don’t think that there’s a single member of this crew who would disagree with me on that statement.”
Isabel stared into the young girl’s eyes for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was as cold as ice. “I think that Elizabeth Tennyson might disagree with you on that front, Ensign,” she said. “If I don’t see you again before tomorrow, best wishes to you for the future. You’re a good officer.”
She smiled sadly, turned around, and walked away.
****
17:10 Ship’s Time
“And I still say that you should have trusted me!,” growled Adam Huntington when he ran up and aimed a vicious kick at Yashiro Masafumi.
To his credit, Testudo’s current Captain didn’t dodge out of the way. Instead, he dived left and palmed the ball away from the goalline.
“Nice save.”
“Thank you,” said Masafumi, dusting himself off while he rose to his feet.” And I couldn’t trust you. I couldn’t trust anyone. Your turn.”
Huntington exchanged places with Masafumi between the goalposts. They had stripped down to their undershirts but they still looked incongruous having a penalty shootout in a cavernous empty stadium while wearing Starfleet uniforms.
Masafumi placed the ball on the penalty spot. “Besides, you didn’t trust me. You were all too eager to believe the worst.”
“Can you blame me?” Huntington had just managed to get the sentence out before Masafumi drove the ball at him. Adam was caught flatfooted. He had started to go left when he saw the ball head right. By the time that he countered his move to the left, the ball was in the net with him left foolishly standing in pretty much the same place that he had been standing when the ball had been struck.
“Four-three to Japan. If you don’t score the next one, we win,” the Asian said as they passed each other again. “And no, I don’t suppose I can blame you. But you are a little better.”
“How so?”
“Running off to save the Captain all on your own and letting your anger blind you. You should have told us, not run off like Austin Powers.”
“I always preferred Harry Palmer myself,” said Huntington, catching his opponent on the hop by not taking a run up. He struck the ball hard and to Masafumi’s left.
Masafumi dived the wrong way and the ball was in the back of the net.
“Four-All,” the Security Chief said,” and I explained already. I didn’t want any more of the Testudo’s crew hurt on another rescue mission.”
“We’re Starfleet officers. Our lives are dangerous. If we can’t handle it, we might as well go hide under our beds.”
“That’s easy to say. I had to hold Liz’s battered body until the Doc arrived. Take your shot.”
“In a moment. I’m tired of the whole crew feeling guilty over what happened to Lieutenant Tennyson. It was terrible but life moves on. You’re a Security Officer with decades worth of experience. Are you telling me that you had never seen something like that happen before?”
Huntington hesitated just long enough for Yashiro to guess that he was lying. “Never,” he said, seething. “Now take the goddamned shot.”
Masafumi ran up and sent the ball straight at Adam. The older man was already half-diving left though.
“Five-Four, Japan is victorious.”
“There must be an easier way to replay the England-Japan World Cup Final,” said Huntington who was now sitting on the ground, his uniform trousers caked in dirt.
“We didn’t have enough time to play the whole match.”
“Okay, okay, I know.” Adam nodded while he stood up. “I would point out that you’re younger and fitter than me. By the look of things, you’re good at this.”
“I was goalkeeper for my high school football team,” he said,” and I captained the San Francisco Warlords during my final year at the Academy. You must have played football growing up?”
“Oh, yeah, against other kids with jumpers for goalposts, of course.”
“Are you making your excuses now?,” Masafumi asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You know, that fistfight idea is sounding better all the time,” Huntington said but he was smiling.
****
17:39 Ship’s Time
Cardonez had been standing outside the door for over a minute. She knew that it was make it or break it for her. She had never been a big believer in getting help, always thinking that you should be able to help yourself. She couldn’t help herself now though and she knew it. After her talk with Tilmoore, she had felt so angry that she had punched the wall hard, splitting open her knuckles and scaring a passing crewman half to death. Part of her wanted to cry while another part of her wanted nothing more than to pummel the wall some more. Then there was the other part, the part of her that wanted to retire to her quarters and finish the bottle of tequila.
She raised her hand to the doorbell. She had to do this because if she didn’t, she would probably lose herself in a bottle. She rang the door chimes and it was only a matter of seconds before the door slid open.
“Oh, hi,” said the woman inside when she saw Cardonez. Surprise was more evident on her face. She was Lieutenant Dayle, Isabel’s former lover, and the Ship’s Counselor.
16:42 Ship’s Time.
“Come on, Valian. You’ll love it,” said Ensign Alec Carter, his stool propping up against the bar with a half-empty glass of ale in front of him.
Kandro shook his head. “I really won’t have the time, Alec. The performance starts at ten and that’s when I finish my shift.”
The blonde Australian wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “So?,” he asked. “I’ll have a word with Lieutenant Carson. I’m sure that he won’t mind delaying the start by a few minutes. It’s the second performance of the night so they’ll probably appreciate the extra time.”
Kandro shook his head once more. “Really, thanks for asking but no.”
Carter was about to speak again but someone else got in first. “Two ales, please,” said Ensign Thaelan, the Andorian’s antennae wiggling in the air when he spoke.
Kandro nodded and began to pour the first ale.
“Pam Tilmoore’s playing Cecily,” Carter said, raising his eyebrows at Kandro. “I hear that she looks cute in period costume.”
Kandro looked up momentarily before starting on pouring the second glass of ale.
“It’s a fine play,” Thaelan said, adding his thoughts to the conversation whether they were welcomed or not. “I saw the opening performance last night. I haven’t really heard of this Oscar Wilde person before but he writes an amusing play. And Lieutenant Hammerschmidt made an imposing Lady Blacknell.”
“I’ll bet she did,” the Betazoid said, imagining the middle-aged biologist whose ego was as ample as her frame.
“It’s Bracknell,” corrected Carter.
Thaelan failed to notice. “A handbag?,” he quoted suddenly before laughing. “Hilarious.”
Carter giggled. An Andorian approximation of an upper-class English accent was something to behold.
“Two ales,” Kandro said, placing the drinks on the bar in front of Thaelan.
The Andorian’s antennae wiggled again in thanks and he picked up his drinks before walking away. After a few steps, Kandro and Carter heard, “A handbag?” once more followed by more laughter.
Carter looked at Kandro and laughed.
Kandro wanted to laugh too but it wouldn’t come. For a Betazoid, half of the humor arose from feeling another person laughing. Instead, he simply said,” He always was easily amused.”
“This is nothing,” said Carter. “I hear that Carson wants to do Rocky Horror in a few months. That should really weird Thaelan out.”
“Really? The Importance of Being Earnest to the Rocky Horror Picture Show? Eclectic producer, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. I think he wants to do the Kretek trilogy after that.”
“Oh, joy,” said Kandro. “Epic Klingon tragedy. That’ll be a barrel of laughs.”
“All the more reason to catch the funny plays while you can,” pressed Carter.
Kandro sidestepped that statement. “How come you know that Rocky Horror is coming?”
The Ensign stood a little straighter and puffed his chest out with pride. “Simple. He’s cast me as Rocky.”
“You? Playing the ultimate man?” This time, the laughter came out in a wave and Kandro found that he was laughing so hard that his stomach began to hurt.
“What’s so funny?” Carter was genuinely nonplussed.
“The… thought of… you… running around… in gold pants…,” Valian said between painful gasps. His eyes were watering but he managed to compose himself. “The ultimate man!” His composure disintegrated when he laughed again. “Oh, well, I suppose it’s inspired casting. Rocky only has half a brain after all.”
“Laugh it up, fur ball,” Carter said with mock indignation.
Kandro did. In fact, he was laughing so hard that when two crew members came up to the bar, they had to wait over a minute for him to stop laughing enough to take their orders.
****
16:55 Ship’s Time
“Goal!!,” Adam Huntington and Yashiro Masafumi shouted together. Both of them leapt up from their seats, punching their hands in the air in unison with fifty thousand holographic supporters around them. On the pitch below, the goal scorer, a sandy-haired young man in an all-white strip, wheeled around and began to run along the touchline with his arm raised high in the air. His teammates ran after him, whooping with delight. Opposition players in red and blue stood around, looking bemused. Or, at least, the Vulcan equivalent of being bemused.
After a few minutes, the crowd settled down as the ball was replaced on the center circle. Masafumi and Huntington sat down with them. “Fantastic goal,” the Asian said. “Stok never even saw it coming.”
“He didn’t see it until he was kicking it out of the nest,” agreed the Englishman sitting by his side. “Where on Earth do you think Kehen dug this up from?”
“Who knows? All I’ve ever seen are stills from the game.”
The game in question was the first annual Earth versus Vulcan Charity Cup. The year was 2099 and the venue was the Gandhi Stadium in Calcutta. The idea of the match was to foster Human-Vulcan relations and it was the first sporting event ever to be shown simultaneously on Earth and Vulcan. It was famous as well because against the odds, the Human team actually won. Partially, this win was down to the Vulcans’ unfamiliarity with the game but it didn’t matter. That Humans had defeated physically superior opponents through sheer determination and superior tactics.
Critics claimed that rather than foster relations, it actually harmed them with xenophobic Humans seizing on the game as a repudiation of Human superiority. It was also argued that the game was the main reason that the Vulcans spent the next century, looking down on Humans. They had been embarrassed and proceeded to take it out on Humanity for decades to come. Of course, those who knew better argued that the Vulcans’ logical nature would never allow them to have such an emotive response.
Of course, the next year, the Vulcans came better prepared, having spent a year of learning and practicing all that they could about football. After the fifteen-nil defeat, Earth decided that an annual game wasn’t a really good idea after all and it was never repeated.
“Well, that’s halftime,” said Huntington when the referee blew his whistle and both sides began to trudge off of the pitch. The crowd around them were on their feet, applauding, and the two Starfleet officers did likewise.
“No goals to come in the second half, unfortunately,” said Masafumi.
“Ah, but some very resolute defending on Earth’s part.”
An uncomfortable silence descended on the two men after that as they scanned the ground.
“This isn’t working, is it?,” Huntington asked him.
Masafumi looked sadly over at him. “No, it isn’t. We’ve hardly talked about anything but the match?”
“So, what do we do?”
Masafumi pondered the question for a moment. “Well, there is one thing that we could do.”
Huntington smiled. “If it’s a fist fight, I have to warn you. You’re out of your league.”
“Really? That wasn’t my assertion but perhaps we should test that theory of yours someday. No, my idea is a lot less violent.” Masafumi paused before asking,” May I?” He was gesturing to the holographic world around them. Huntington nodded. “Computer, delete the crowd and the players.”
The stadium full of bustle and the noise of thousands of people disappeared, rendering it empty and eerily silent.
“Okay, I wasn’t expecting that,” said Huntington. “Now what?”
“Now you follow me,” Masafumi said and he began the long walk down the stadium steps towards the pitch.
A moment later, the Security Chief shrugged his shoulders and followed.
****
17:00 Ship’s Time
“I said, get me a drink,” said the young Ensign in Command Red from across the bar.
“I said I’d get you a drink when I’ve served these two,” said Kandro, gesturing towards the two female crewmen sitting at the other end of the bar.
“I was here first.”
“Yeah, but they’re prettier,” the Betazoid said, honestly. “Now, stop complaining, Wenden, or I won’t serve you next.” He turned towards the two girls, smiling broadly. “Now then, what can I get you two?”
The girl on the right, a pretty redhead from Engineering, opened her mouth to speak but she never got the chance.
“He’s more concerned with what he can give you!,” shouted Wenden from across the bar.
Kandro smiled tightly. “You know what? He was here first. So I’d better get him a drink now. I’ll be back in a few seconds.” As he turned away, the smile faded to be replaced by a frown when he walked over to Wenden. “What do you want?,” he asked angrily.
“Altair Water,” replied Wenden, one of the Testudo’s shuttle pilots who occasionally manned the helm.
Kandro ducked under the bar and returned with a bottle which he proceeded to bang down hard on the bar. Grabbing a glass, he thumped it down hard on the bartop. “I don’t like you,” he said while he poured a glass of water, filling it right up to the top spitefully.
“That’s good because I dislike you greatly as well,” Wenden said with a smile. He reached out with a webbed hand and took his water before he turned away to find a seat.
Kandro shrugged. He might not have liked Wenden but there was an honesty about him such as there was with all Zaldans. Zaldan’s didn’t believe in Human courtesy and so there was never any sense of pretense with them. He might now perceive most people as ghosts of their former slaves but strangely enough, Wenden wasn’t one of them.
Shaking his head sagely, he turned back towards the two pretty girls, a smile already composing itself on his face. However, they were nowhere to be seen. In their place stood Maxine Herman, a dour-faced woman in her fifties who was Testudo’s Senior Nurse.
Herman was taken by surprise with Kandro’s smile. Few people actually smiled at her anymore. They usually looked scared or worried. It wasn’t for nothing since she was known as Nurse Battleaxe behind her back. The look on her face was all the incentive that Kandro needed to keep smiling. Unnerving Nurse Battleaxe wasn’t something that someone did everyday. In fact, a few months ago, he would have known that she was behind him and never would have smiled.
I’ve missed this!, he thought.
“Hi, Nurse Herman. What can I get you?,” he asked her, his smile widening.
****
17:05 Ship’s Time
Isabel Cardonez was still aimlessly wandering the corridors of the ship. I’m like a ghost in one of those old movies, she thought. All I need is a white sheet and some chains. Perhaps some wailing…
Deck Nineteen had been far too busy. How was she to know that Engineering was upgrading the internal sensors on that deck?
And so her wandering led her here. Cargo Bay Two.
“Hi, Captain,” Ensign Pamela Tilmoore said, the diminutive Security Officer who was standing by the doors. “You look lost.”
Cardonez smiled. “I think I know my way around the ship, Ensign.”
Tilmoore quickly bowed her head and looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean to – “
“It’s Isabel, not Captain,” she corrected her before smiling,” and I might just hit the next person who calls me Captain.”
“I’m sorry,” Tilmoore said again. “You know, it takes a bit of getting used to.”
“What? Not calling me Captain? Come on, Pamela. It’s not like I was your first ever Captain or anything.”
Tilmoore smiled. “Actually you were,” she said. “After the Academy, I went straight to work on the shuttle run. The most senior officer at the Shuttle Bay was a Lieutenant Commander. Then Commander Huntington brought me here.” She shrugged. “And the rest is history.”
Cardonez gave a short laugh. “Well, there you go. I was a lousy Captain. I didn’t even know that.”
“Well, to be honest, there are still people that I pass in the corridor whose names that I can’t remember. I think it’s great that you always remember who’s who.”
“Nothing supernatural there. I’m sure that Masafumi knows everyone too.”
“Yes, he does, and he’s been a great Captain but…”
“But?,” asked Cardonez.
“Permission to speak freely?,” asked Tilmoore, drawing herself to stand at attention.
“Don’t be silly. Just tell me what it is.” Tilmoore didn’t move. Her eyes remained focused ahead of her with his shoulders rigid. For a moment, Cardonez didn’t know what to say and then she remembered that she was still a Starfleet Captain, if only for a brief time together and the Security Officer deserved to be treated with respect.
“Permission granted,” she added.
Tilmoore relaxed, just slightly. “Captain Masafumi has been wonderful and then I think he had a great teacher and most of the crew is a little pissed off that they have to lose two great captains tomorrow.”
“Really?,” asked Cardonez.
Tilmoore looked up at her now, a defiant tilt to her head. “Yes, really,” she said. “Most of the crew is too afraid to say it but there are going to be a lot of transfer requests flooding through in the next few days.”
“That’s life on a Starship. Get used to it.” For some reason, she was getting angry. Was it at Tilmoore or herself?
“We shouldn’t have to,” said Tilmoore. “You’re a great Captain and I don’t think that there’s a single member of this crew who would disagree with me on that statement.”
Isabel stared into the young girl’s eyes for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was as cold as ice. “I think that Elizabeth Tennyson might disagree with you on that front, Ensign,” she said. “If I don’t see you again before tomorrow, best wishes to you for the future. You’re a good officer.”
She smiled sadly, turned around, and walked away.
****
17:10 Ship’s Time
“And I still say that you should have trusted me!,” growled Adam Huntington when he ran up and aimed a vicious kick at Yashiro Masafumi.
To his credit, Testudo’s current Captain didn’t dodge out of the way. Instead, he dived left and palmed the ball away from the goalline.
“Nice save.”
“Thank you,” said Masafumi, dusting himself off while he rose to his feet.” And I couldn’t trust you. I couldn’t trust anyone. Your turn.”
Huntington exchanged places with Masafumi between the goalposts. They had stripped down to their undershirts but they still looked incongruous having a penalty shootout in a cavernous empty stadium while wearing Starfleet uniforms.
Masafumi placed the ball on the penalty spot. “Besides, you didn’t trust me. You were all too eager to believe the worst.”
“Can you blame me?” Huntington had just managed to get the sentence out before Masafumi drove the ball at him. Adam was caught flatfooted. He had started to go left when he saw the ball head right. By the time that he countered his move to the left, the ball was in the net with him left foolishly standing in pretty much the same place that he had been standing when the ball had been struck.
“Four-three to Japan. If you don’t score the next one, we win,” the Asian said as they passed each other again. “And no, I don’t suppose I can blame you. But you are a little better.”
“How so?”
“Running off to save the Captain all on your own and letting your anger blind you. You should have told us, not run off like Austin Powers.”
“I always preferred Harry Palmer myself,” said Huntington, catching his opponent on the hop by not taking a run up. He struck the ball hard and to Masafumi’s left.
Masafumi dived the wrong way and the ball was in the back of the net.
“Four-All,” the Security Chief said,” and I explained already. I didn’t want any more of the Testudo’s crew hurt on another rescue mission.”
“We’re Starfleet officers. Our lives are dangerous. If we can’t handle it, we might as well go hide under our beds.”
“That’s easy to say. I had to hold Liz’s battered body until the Doc arrived. Take your shot.”
“In a moment. I’m tired of the whole crew feeling guilty over what happened to Lieutenant Tennyson. It was terrible but life moves on. You’re a Security Officer with decades worth of experience. Are you telling me that you had never seen something like that happen before?”
Huntington hesitated just long enough for Yashiro to guess that he was lying. “Never,” he said, seething. “Now take the goddamned shot.”
Masafumi ran up and sent the ball straight at Adam. The older man was already half-diving left though.
“Five-Four, Japan is victorious.”
“There must be an easier way to replay the England-Japan World Cup Final,” said Huntington who was now sitting on the ground, his uniform trousers caked in dirt.
“We didn’t have enough time to play the whole match.”
“Okay, okay, I know.” Adam nodded while he stood up. “I would point out that you’re younger and fitter than me. By the look of things, you’re good at this.”
“I was goalkeeper for my high school football team,” he said,” and I captained the San Francisco Warlords during my final year at the Academy. You must have played football growing up?”
“Oh, yeah, against other kids with jumpers for goalposts, of course.”
“Are you making your excuses now?,” Masafumi asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You know, that fistfight idea is sounding better all the time,” Huntington said but he was smiling.
****
17:39 Ship’s Time
Cardonez had been standing outside the door for over a minute. She knew that it was make it or break it for her. She had never been a big believer in getting help, always thinking that you should be able to help yourself. She couldn’t help herself now though and she knew it. After her talk with Tilmoore, she had felt so angry that she had punched the wall hard, splitting open her knuckles and scaring a passing crewman half to death. Part of her wanted to cry while another part of her wanted nothing more than to pummel the wall some more. Then there was the other part, the part of her that wanted to retire to her quarters and finish the bottle of tequila.
She raised her hand to the doorbell. She had to do this because if she didn’t, she would probably lose herself in a bottle. She rang the door chimes and it was only a matter of seconds before the door slid open.
“Oh, hi,” said the woman inside when she saw Cardonez. Surprise was more evident on her face. She was Lieutenant Dayle, Isabel’s former lover, and the Ship’s Counselor.
I'm snowed in here because of the weather. I'm getting a lot of writing done.
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