Star Trek: Pathfinder #2 - The Prodigal Captain

[Gibraltar]

I’m glad Beaumont surrendered when she did. Having done all she could already, her death would have been a meaningless gesture.

Proudfoot’s a complicated man. He obviously feels strongly enough about his course of action that he’s willing to kill a former comrade-in-arms in cold blood… well, cold vacuum, anyway.

Teague’s played the only card available to him by running and hiding in the gas giant. Somehow, though, I don’t think he’s going to do anything safe or predictable, considering the odds stacked against him.

Terrific installment!

 

[CeJay]

Well truth be told I was hoping for more butt kicking from Beaumont. Maybe ... maybe her surrender is just an elaborate ruse to lull Proudfoot into a false sense of victory. Or maybe not.

But yeah, surrender, in that situation, I suppose, was the sensible thing to do.

 

[jerriecan]

I’m glad Beaumont surrendered when she did. Having done all she could already, her death would have been a meaningless gesture.

Proudfoot’s a complicated man. He obviously feels strongly enough about his course of action that he’s willing to kill a former comrade-in-arms in cold blood… well, cold vacuum, anyway.

Teague’s played the only card available to him by running and hiding in the gas giant. Somehow, though, I don’t think he’s going to do anything safe or predictable, considering the odds stacked against him.

Terrific installment!

Thanks, Gibraltar! It's hard to write for Proudfoot but fun - he still believes he's a good man doing what needs to be done, but sometimes what needs done is horrible.

Well truth be told I was hoping for more butt kicking from Beaumont. Maybe ... maybe her surrender is just an elaborate ruse to lull Proudfoot into a false sense of victory. Or maybe not.

But yeah, surrender, in that situation, I suppose, was the sensible thing to do.

The butt-kicking is far from over, I assure you. But who's going to be doing the kicking? Glad you're still enjoying the story!

 

[jerriecan]

Star Trek: Pathfinder
The Prodigal Captain - Part Nine​

UESN Vanguard
Tau Delta system, Sector Nineteen
May 13, 2163

"We've lost them, sir."

Isaac Proudfoot nodded slowly, watching the blue-tinged clouds of Tau Delta VI roll beneath them. The Vanguard was in low orbit, barely a hundred kilometers above the cloudtops, and the ship's scanners were bombarding the planet. But Proudfoot knew that trying to scan through these clouds was a fool's game. "Let them hide," he said quietly. "They'll come back up soon enough."

Slowly he turned to face Beaumont. She had been seated at the communication station, with a trio of crewman surrounding her in case she became unruly. That was unlikely, given that her wrists were secured with magnetic shackles, remnants of an earlier, more barbaric age that , even on Starfleet ships, still found the occasional use. "Isobel, I..."

"What?" she replied. "You're sorry for trying to kill me? Didn't stop you."

"You left me no choice," Proudfoot said.

Beaumont chuckled. "Do you think that if you say it enough you'll actually believe it someday?"

Instead of responding, Proudfoot pressed the conversation another direction. "What is your captain planning?"

Her voice filled with bile, Beaumont said, "I don't know. You didn't leave us much time to discuss tactics."

"Too much time, as it turns out," Proudfoot said. "Pathfinder's transporter was undamaged, wasn't it? That line about needing to travel by shuttlepod - you were just buying time. And ten minutes was all you needed to throw a major wrench into my plans." He shook his head. "I underestimated you, Isobel."

"Then you should believe me when I say that you can't succeed," Beaumont said. "It's not too late to give up your war."

"I told you, it's not my war," Proudfoot said. "And it's been too late for a long time now." He turned to study a nearby readout - a countdown timer was clearly visible, with just over two hours and seven minutes remaining. "I know your captain won't surrender - he's not that type. He'll go down fighting if he must."

He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "But he'll listen to you. Talk to him, Isobel. Ask him to surrender the Pathfinder and I guarantee there will be no further bloodshed this day."

"So you can dump us with the rest, prisoners of your own private war?" Beaumont spat. "Go to hell. If you want the Pathfinder, you're going to have to fight for it. And I promise you it won't be easy."

"I don't doubt that. I had to try," Proudfoot sighed. He turned to a crewman. "Arm a dozen plasma charges, maximum yield." His calm gaze returned to Beaumont. "If I can't have the Pathfinder for my prize, then I'll settle for her destruction. I'll bury Starfleet's flagship right here if I must."

"The you'd better get digging," Beaumont said. "You're going to be filling a lot of graves."

* * * * *​

Deep in the atmosphere of Tau Delta VI, the Pathfinder shook as it passed through one of the many storms that riddled the clouds of the gas giant. This one was a hurricane the size of a small moon. The ship was a thousand kilometers deep, buried in a blue-white haze of methane, water and a few more exotic compounds, and so far that seemed to be concealing her from the Vanguard's scanners. Just beyond the hull, the tremendous atmospheric pressure threatened to buckle the plates and force its way inside, flooding the ship with toxic gas. In that respect, thus far they had been lucky.

But luck could never be counted on for long.

Teague stepped through the hatch into Main Engineering and was greeted by a wall of noise, along with the sharp tang of burnt circuitry mixed with vaporized coolant. Repair teams of twos and threes worked at open panels, replacing damaged components before moving on to where they were needed next. Since the start of the attack, there had been little time for them to take a breather, and it seemed unlikely that would change anytime soon. At the center of the chamber, standing near the matter/antimatter reactor that powered the warp engines, Amara orchestrated his crews like a symphony conductor.

Teague muscled his way over. "Rik, what's our status?"

Amara let loose a stream of profanities under his breath. "Bad," was all he said clearly. He didn't bother to turn and look - there was too much work to be done in keeping the ship from getting any worse. "We lost the starboard impulse reactor on the final approach. Coolants feeds blew out and flooded the whole compartment. I've got four crewmen in Sickbay, one who probably won't make it."

Without both impulse engines, the Pathfinder was having a difficult time maintaining her position. "Can it be repaired?"

"I've got everyone I can spare replacing the feed lines. Give me an hour and I'll have an answer."

Teague nodded. "What else?"

"The hull plating has taken a major beating. We have replacement stock, but there's no way I'm sending out my teams in this storm. We need calm space to perform that kind of work, preferably a nice high orbit. I doubt we'll get it."

"Hull integrity?"

"She's holding - just. We're getting a few leaks, mainly around viewport and hatch seals, but they're pretty steady. I've got a team out reinforcing the seals just in case." For the first time, Amara looked at Teague. "We cut this way too close."

"Didn't have a choice, Rik." Teague looked up at the massive warp core. "Other damage?"

"The rest is fairly minor, mainly blown relays or power fluctuations. Warp drive is intact - all we need is the chance to run."

"Can't run this time," Teague said. "Not while Proudfoot has that weapon. God only knows the kind of damage he could do if we let him get away. He leaned in close and lowered his voice. "Be prepared to divert all available power at a moment's notice."

"To where?"

"I'm working on it. Just be ready." Teague left Amara to his work, making his way across Engineering to the nearest wall communicator. He punched the switch and said, "Teague to bridge. Commander T'Vril and Lieutenant Webb, report to the hangar deck immediately. I'll meet you there."

To Be Continued...

 

[Gibraltar]

Teague’s made his choice, and Proudfoot’s going to force the issue. The odds against Pathfinder haven’t improved much, and the resulting clash will doubtless prove costly for everyone. Let’s hope the good captain has something appropriately clever up his sleeve.

 

[CeJay]

Proudfoot's clearly lost it. Perhaps there was a tiny chance to justifying one killing to achieve his overall objective but destroying an entire ship and crew shows that the man has clearly lost perspective and must be stopped.

Teague and Pathfinder better be up to the task.

 

[The Badger]

^Agreed. Proudfoot's commitment and dedication, usually worthy traits, have led him to a quiet fanaticism where the ends justify the means. I've said it before CeJay, you have written this character superbly. Even though we can see he is wrong, we can also understand why he believes he is right.

And I'm still wondering about Kassin's 'slip of the tongue'. (Strokes chin thoughtfully, goes 'Hmmm....').

 

[CeJay]

Pretty sure you meant to say jerriecan here but I'll choose to believe that you also enjoy the way I write my characters.

 

[jerriecan]

Star Trek: Pathfinder
The Prodigal Captain - Part Ten​

USS Pathfinder
in the atmosphere of Tau Delta VI
May 13, 2163

"It's crazy," Webb blurted.

Standing in the hangar bay, Teague was unmoved. "Can you make it work?"

Nearby, T'Vril was studying a monitor that was currently displaying a rough schematic that was... unorthodox, to say the least. "It is theoretically possible, though I am unaware of such a device ever being conceived. There would be no guarantee it would function correctly, or even at all."

"There's no time for guarantees. Can you do it?"

Webb looked around. "We can put the pieces together. We'll need an engineering crew to do the heavy lifting and to actually get it assembled."

"Then get moving. Whatever you need, you're cleared to take."

Teague walked away, leaving Webb shaking her head. "Commander Amara isn't going to like this one bit," she said. "Brand new ship and everything - it's a shame what we're about to do."

"What the chief engineer likes is irrelevant," T'Vril replied. "We have a great deal of work to do."

* * * * *​

Beaumont could barely keep still as the clock counted down, inexorably dropping toward zero. With each passing moment Achilles was building its charge, awaiting only the right moment to unleash its power against the Pathfinder.

And there was nothing more she could do to stop it.

She looked over at Proudfoot as he sat in the command chair, looking like some ancient statue that was crumbling beneath the ravages of time and stress. His dark skin had taken on a gray tinge, and Beaumont wondered how long it had been since he had last slept. "When did it happen, Isaac?"

"What?" he said absently.

"When did you decide you had to restart the war?"

Proudfoot shook his head and sighed. "I'm not playing this game with you anymore, Isobel. You can't talk me out of this."

"We were friends for a long time, Isaac. I think I deserve the truth."

Proudfoot stood and walked toward the main screen and murky clouds of Tau Delta VI it showed. "It was eight months after the treaty. I was captaining a T-class freighter, out on the tail end of the Sigma Draconis run. Last stop was this tiny mining colony - six hundred people who had scrimped and saved every scrap of profit for two years, just to buy a simple auto-doc unit. Can you imagine it? Trying to carve out a life inside an airless rock with just basic first aid. They were so happy when we unloaded it - the party lasted for two days. It was almost a shame we had to leave."

He looked down, his voice quieter as he resumed. "We were four days out when we picked up their distress call. We reversed course at once, drove the engines as hard as we dared... but by the time we got back, it was too late. Every last colonist was dead. Whoever attacked the colony stripped everything of value, right to the bare rock, then purged the atmosphere on their way out. The few who survived, who hid deep in the mines during the attack, ran out of air while we were still half a day out."

He paused, his hands trembling, and then he looked up at Beaumont, his eyes cold as space. "I saw enough Romulan weapon damage during the war to recognize it when I saw it. I started asking questions, listening to the stories that spacers told when they got together, and they were always the same - out on the fringes, someone was killing people. I tracked down the few who survived, heard their stories, saw their wounds. I went to the colonies and saw what little remained, picked up the ash and let it fall from my hands."

Proudfoot gestured at the bridge of the Vanguard. "Finding this ship was pure luck... or perhaps it was fate. I was trying to track down Starfleet ships that had gone missing during the war, maybe to try and build a fleet that could defend the fringe colonies. But when we recovered the Vanguard, when we found Achilles and realized what it could do... that's when I knew what had to be done."

Beaumont looked again at the countdown - seventeen minutes and change. 'What happened was tragic. Criminal. But vengeance won't work, Isaac - it will just spill more blood."

"What else can I do?" Proudfoot whispered.

"Take your claims to Starfleet. Let them see what you've seen. Let them decide for themselves if what you claim could be true. If there's event he slightest chance you're right, they would have no choice but to act."

For a moment Proudfoot's gaze wavered, and Beaumont through he might be listening, that he might actually turn away from this path toward destruction. Then he turned away. "No, Isobel. I've made my choice. If Starfleet decides to follow my lead, I won't refuse them... but I won't turn back now. Even if I could."

Beaumont licked her dry lips as the countdown clicked over to sixteen minutes. "Isaac - "

"Please," he said, holding up his hand. "No more. Just... just be quiet." Proudfoot returned to the command chair and fixed his eyes on the screen, turning his back on Beaumont. "This will all be over soon."

To Be Continued...

 

[jerriecan]

Star Trek: Pathfinder
The Prodigal Captain - Part Eleven​

USS Vanguard
in low orbit around Tau Delta VI
May 13, 2163

"Achilles is fully charged, sir."

Proudfoot leaned forward in the command chair. "Then let's not keep the Pathfinder waiting any longer. Begin active scanning, maximum power. Contact the Roosevelt - if their sensors are operational, have them assist, even if they can't maneuver. Bombard the planet with scans, as deep as you can."

Beaumont knew what Proudfoot was doing - trying to flush the Pathfinder out like the hunters of old did with game birds. If the Pathfinder was deep enough, the sensor waves would be scattered by the thick atmosphere long before they could be of any use in detecting the ship. But so much activity might make Teague panic and run - which was just what Proudfoot wanted. "It won't work," she said.

Proudfoot ignored her as a crewman confirmed his order. A moment later, invisible waves of energy lashed out over the planet, penetrating deep into the murk before being scattered to the point of incoherence.

On the screen a computer-generated grid appeared over the planet, and after several minutes one sector lit up. "Contact, sir. Approximately six thousand kilometers deep."

"Take us in," said Proudfoot. Although Achilles could work out to a million kilometers in open space, the closer they got to the quarry, the more effective the pulse would be. "Skim the cloudtops."

The Vanguard lumbered closer, adjusting her course until it was leaving a wake along the very tops of the clouds. "Ready the plasma charges," Proudfoot ordered. "Wide spread. just enough to give them a good rattle."

"Charges armed, sir," a crewman said.

Proudfoot hesitated only a moment. "Fire!"

Fierce blue bursts of energy dropped away from the Vanguard's remaining launchers, plunging into the atmosphere until they reached their pre-programmed depth of six thousand kilometers. Then they dropped their magnetic containment, allowing the star-hot plasma they contained to burst outward, creating massive shockwaves in the thick atmosphere which combined and grew more powerful with each successive blast.

High above, Beaumont watched in horror as the clouds rippled and tore apart. This was exactly the type of attack that had injured her, that had robbed her of three years of her life, that had destroyed the Fearless and most of her crew. And this was just the beginning.

But while the eyes of the crew were fixed on their stations, or the main viewscreen, Beaumont's were fixed on the nearest chronometer. Any minute now, she thought.

Five minutes was not much time - but as she had already shown Proudfoot, it was more than enough to throw a wrench ion the most carefully laid plans. After Proudfoot had issued his ultimatum to purge the Vanguard's atmosphere, Beaumont had almost flown into a blind panic until; she realized where she was - a hundred meters from the starboard landing bay. At first she thought she might be able to steal one of the warp fighters and blast her way out, but that would only leave her vulnerable to the remaining fighters and Vanguard's surviving weaponry.

But she could use one of the fighters in another way.

As the Vanguard plowed across the cloudtops, Proudfoot ordered another salvo of plasma charges to be loaded. He was halfway through issuing the order when a shudder ran through the ship, followed by a harsh klaxon. "What is that?" Proudfoot shouted above the noise.

"Explosion in the starboard hangar!" one of the crew shouted. "Major damage to the bay, the whole section has been vented to space."

Proudfoot whirled on Beaumont. "You promised - "

"I promised no more resistance after I set the fighter's reactor to overload," Beaumont replied, a sly smile curling the corner of her mouth.

Proudfoot raised a fist, fury rising within him as the Vanguard began to list to starboard... then he let it fall to his side. "Status of Achilles?" he called out, his eyes fixed on Beaumont.

"No damage, sir," said the crewman. "Ready to fire at your command."

"And the Pathfinder?"

"Still - wait, they're moving!" the scanner operator said. "They're running - must have detected the detonation."

"Running while they think they can," Proudfoot said, turning back to the screen. "But it's too late."

* * * * *​

The Pathfinder shook and rolled as the shockwaves raged all around her. This was worse than taking fire from the warp fighters - this was nature itself being turned against the tiny ship. "Status?" Teague called out.

"Minor damage across the ship," Marakis said. "Hull is holding - just."

"Webb, are we ready?"

The helm officer nodded. "As we'll ever be."

"Captain, detonation at the edge of the atmosphere!" Kassin said, his eyes glued to the sensor hood. "Not a plasma charge - looks like a fusion detonation, maybe a reactor overload - "

"Like a warp fighter," finished Teague. This was their chance. "Webb, go!"

Webb leaned forward on the controls, hoping that the captain's plan would work - for if it didn't, they were all dead.

* * * * *​

The scanner operator watched as the Pathfinder accelerated, leaving a wake in the atmosphere as it passed through. The ship was moving fast - any faster and the atmosphere would generate so much friction it could burn up. The ship rose through the clouds, barreling toward space as fast as they could. "Range?" Proudfoot snapped.

"Three thousand kilometers."

"Target Achilles. Fire when ready!"

The crewman pressed a toggle, and Beaumont's heart sank as the bridge lights dimmed and an invisible beam sliced through the clouds like they weren't even there. "I'm sorry, sir," she whispered.

"Direct hit!" the crewman said. He followed the scanner contact, waiting for the Pathfinder to come to a halt. But after several seconds he turned to Proudfoot and said, "Sir, the Pathfinder is still underway."

"What?" Achilles worked fast - its effects should have kicked in within moments, and the instruction to surrender and bring the Pathfinder to the surface was unable to be resisted. He shoved the crewman aside, studied the scanner readings - and his blood went cold.

Isobel had been wrong - it was too late after all. Just not in the way he had imagined.

* * * * *​

Webb gripped the controls,tight, trying to maintain course through the storm. More than once the ship was almost carried away, which wasn't surprising given its current condition.

Of course, trying to pilot it from ten thousand kilometers away didn't help, either.

Teague's idea had seemed crazy - outfit a shuttlepod with an overcharged fusion reactor and a gravity generator set on overload, enough to make it look like it had the mass of a starship. Never in a thousand years would she have considered it - even her uncle Rhys wasn't quite that crazy. But here she was, struggling to keep the decoy on a straight path.

And the Vanguard was falling for it. They were following the energy and mass readings of the decoy and ignoring the Pathfinder itself. It was doubtful they could pick her up at all - Teague had ordered Amara to create a low-level warp field around the ship, not enough to provide any thrust but more than sufficient to neutralize the ship's mass, effectively making the ship weightless. As the Vanguard went lower, the Pathfinder drifted up behind her, until...

Teague leaned forward. "Now! Full impulse!"

Webb released control of the pod,. letting it be carried away by the storms, and immediately grabbed the helm controls, sending the Pathfinder rocketing upward. Ten thousand meters behind and below the Vanguard, the clouds parted and to reveal the streamlined yet scarred shape of the Pathfinder. Teague looked at the screen, quickly studying the damage Beaumont had caused with her sabotage. "What's their status?"

"Significant damage to most systems, including their engines" T'Vril replied. "Starboard weapons are disabled."

"Let's finish the job," Teague said. "Close in and declaw them."

The Pathfinder leapt forward, her phase cannons slicing through the Vanguard's remaining weapon turrets and launchers as she sailed past. One or two of the turrets had a chance to return fire before being destroyed, but not enough to inflict any real damage.

T'Vril checked her console. "All weapons have been disabled, sir," she said, with a unmistakable hint of smugness in her tone.

"Open a channel," he told Sarria. "Vanguard, this is Captain Teague. Your weapons are useless. Your engines are failing. Surrender immediately or I will be forced to destroy you. You have two minutes to comply."

* * * * *​

Proudfoot looked around the bridge as Teague's crackling voice echoed from the speakers. One glance at a status monitor told him all he needed to know. The Vanguard had no way to fight back, not now - even Achilles was out of action until it could recharge. And Teague would never give him the chance to use it again. He pressed a switch on his armrest. "Proudfoot to all crew. Abandon ship. Repeat, abandon ship."

The few crewmen on the bridge ran to the turbolift, holding the door for Proudfoot, but he waved them away. "I'll catch up. One last thing to do."

The door slid closed, leaving Proudfoot facing Beaumont alone. He leaned in and unlocked her restraints, letting then drop to the deck. "Better contact your ship," he said as he crossed to the engineering console. "I imagine they'll be waiting to hear from you."

Rubbing her chafed wrists, Beaumont followed him, watching as he adjusted the controls for the impulse fusion reactors. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was about to do. "Isaac, you can't! Not like this - "

"I knew where my path would lead," he said as he dropped the magnetic containment on the fusion bottles. Immediately the Vanguard shook as her engines exploded in nuclear fire, the power of the stars tearing them apart. "I just didn't believe it would be so soon."

As the Vanguard began its plunge toward destruction, Beaumont ran to the comm station, opened a channel and shouted, "Beaumont to Pathfinder! I need emergency transport for two people!"

"Only one, came Proudfoot's voice. Beaumont turned to face him as he sat in the command chair, a plasma pistol in his left hand. "Just you."

"Isaac - "

"I won't go back," he warned, raising the pistol and aiming at Beaumont's chest. "Not like this."

Beaumont looked on, opened her mouth to plead, to beg for him to come with her... then said, "Belay that. Only one to transport."

A moment later Beaumont vanished in a shimmer of blue-gold light, leaving Proudfoot alone as the Vanguard plunged into the depths of Tau Delta VI.

But he wasn't alone - they were waiting for him, had been waiting all along, he realized. The crew of the Fearless were all around him, here to welcome him into their midst at last.

* * * * *​

"Captain, we've got her!"

Beaumont fell back against the wall of the transporter chamber, her legs wobbly from the transition from matter to energy and then back to matter. Amara was standing at the console, breathless from running through the ship to get here and handle the delicate process himself. "Are you all right, Commander?"

She nodded, still dizzy, but the disorientation was passing quickly. They might claim the transporter was safe for life forms, but she hoped it would never become the preferred method of travel.

"Nice work, Rik," came Teague's voice over the speakers. "Commander, what about Proudfoot?"

Beaumont shook her head wearily. "He... didn't make it, sir."

"I see," Teague replied. "Report to Sickbay. I'm sure you've had a trying day."

"Aye, sir," Beaumont said, slowly making her way toward the door. And all she could think was, I'm so sorry, Isaac... but you left me no choice.

To Be Concluded...

 

[jerriecan]

Star Trek: Pathfinder
The Prodigal Captain - Epilogue​

USS Pathfinder
in orbit around Tau Delta IV
May 19, 2163

"What's that?"

Webb moved the duffel a bit further back. "What's what?"

"That." Sarria gestured toward the duffel that Webb had been trying to conceal with her body.

"Nothing."

"You're not acting like it's nothing." Sarria leaned over to get a better look.

"And you're really nosy. Trust me, it's important, okay?"

Sarria's antennae quivered in confusion. Nosy? she thought. Humans have such odd sayings. But she closed her mouth and the pair finished their journey in silence.

The briefing room was already almost full by the time they arrived. A few of the officers spared the duffel a glance - bringing luggage to a briefing was not exactly standard - but as soon as Teague began to speak, it fell away from their thoughts.

"Now that we're all present - " He spared Webb a stern look. " - we can get started. Mister Amara, state of the ship?"

"All systems are fully operational," Amara replied tiredly. "She might not look pretty right now, but everything works."

Amara was understating things just a touch - large patches of scorched and pitted hull plating had been replaced, leaving obvious signs that the ship had recently survived a major battle. But we did survive, Teague thought. That's what matters.

But not everyone had. Shortly after Beaumont's rescue, the Pathfinder's sensors had recorded an explosion deep in the atmosphere of Tau Delta VI as the Vanguard's warp core lost containment, destroying the ship - and the Achilles weapon. Proudfoot's war was over at last.

It had taken the better part of a day to recover the two hundred crewmen that had escaped the Vanguard, including those marooned aboard the disabled Roosevelt. These crewmen - including the injured Jakobs and Allenby - were now secure on the surface of Tau Delta IV, where their captured freighter crews had been kept until just a few days ago. Now those crews, restless after weeks or months of isolation, were gladly assisting with the repairs to both Starfleet ships. The stripped freighters were beyond field repairs, but the various crews were already talking about throwing in their lot together on a few brand-new ships to make the deep=space cargo runs, traveling like the caravans of ancient Earth. Teague wished them the best of luck.

"That's good to hear," Teague said, coming back to the moment. He looked over at Beaumont. She had been quiet since her return and the reactivation of her implant. "And what about you, Commander? Any lasting effects?"

"No, sir," she replied. Her thoughts were once again as ordered and precise as she liked them. Her time without the implant had left no scars it seemed, at least none she could identify. But something was different now - the world seemed just a bit duller, the sounds a touch muted. And part of her wanted to be freed from that dullness.

"I'd still like to keep a close eye on you, Commander," said Dr. Ranik. "Now that I've finally freed up a little room in Sickbay, I want to get some detailed neural scans and send them along to Earth along with a complete diagnostic. I want to be sure the mechanical parts are working as well as the organic ones." He sniffed disdainfully. "I'm a surgeon, not an... engineer. No offense, Commander," he said to Amara, who waved the comment away.

"Your diligence is most appreciated, Doctor," Teague said. "One last piece of business - Starfleet is concerned that someone determined enough might be able to salvage something of Proudfoot's weapon from the wreckage. Is that remotely possible?"

Beaumont shook her head. "between the battle damage, the reactor explosions and the planet's gravity, there won't be enough left of Achilles to fit in a cargo pod."

Beaumont's description of Achilles and its effects had raised the hairs on Teague's neck, especially when he learned that it was a Starfleet project. Teague had been unable to learn anything more about it from Starfleet Command - they had not even wanted to confirm its name when he contacted them. Which left him wondering just why Kassin had uttered the word 'Achilles' on the bridge long before Beaumont had even returned to the ship. The science officer might have regained his outer calm - he had even stopped chewing his thumbnail for the moment - but Teague knew that wouldn't last, not once he had an opportunity to speak with his science officer at greater length.

"That's very reassuring," Teague said. "In that case, there's no need for us to remain here any longer." He rubbed his hands together, looking at his crew who had endured the first of many trials and come out victorious. "The Roosevelt has things well in hand, and will remain on station until Starfleet can collect both the prisoners and the freighter crews. I think it's past time we began our mission properly. Now, if there are no other matters - "

Teague was halfway out of his chair when Webb's voice made him pause. "We can't leave yet, sir."

He slowly lowered back into his seat. "And why is that, Lieutenant?" he said coolly.

"It's bad luck for a ship to leave port without being properly christened." Webb reached down, retrieved the duffel and unzipped it, revealing a dark green glass bottle with a faded label that read Chateau Picard, 2056.

Beaumont picked up the bottle and looked at it. "I hesitate to even think where you got hold of this," she said - examples of wine from before the Third World War were exceedingly difficult to find.

Webb grinned. "Just a keepsake, ma'am," she said. "Figured it might come in handy someday."

Teague looked over at Amara. "What do you say, Rik? Can the hull take one more hit?"

Amara smiled. "Absolutely, sir."

"Then let's get me suited up," Teague said, standing and taking the bottle. "It's not every day a captain gets to christen his own ship."

As they left the briefing room, headed for the nearest airlock, T'Vril turned the opposite direction. "Lieutenant Commander?" Beaumont said. "Aren't you joining us?"

T'Vril turned back and said coolly, "This... tradition... is not logical," was all she said before turning away again.

And without another word she walked away. She found the nearest turbolift, commanded it to go to D Deck, and went to her quarters. Checking to make sure the door was locked, she opened a drawer beneath her bed and pulled out a wide case and sat down at the desk. Turning it upside down, she pressed at one specific area on the case, and a concealed compartment sprang open, virtually impossible to find unless you knew what you were looking for.

Two items were nestled inside. T'Vril gave one of them, a folded flexible case, a long look before she removed the other, a thin portable computer. She set it on the desk and tapped the screen, making a keyboard with strange symbols appear.

Strange symbols to anyone aboard the Pathfinder but her, of course.

She rapidly typed out a message in a language no Federation race would recognize: The objective has been lost. The weapon was destroyed.

After a few moments, a response came. The weapon was never essential. The true objective remains. You will remain in place until you are called upon to act.

A moment later the Romulan letters vanished from the screen, leaving T'Vril all alone... and farther from her home than anyone aboard the Pathfinder could imagine.

The End

Coming Soon:

Star Trek: Pathfinder #3 - The Revenant Star
​

 

[The Badger]

An excellent conclusion to an excellent story! Superbly written battle sequence, and Teague's idea was inspired. There were a couple of real 'Hell yeah!' moments in there as well.

And now we have two crew members we should be keeping an eye on...

Pretty sure you meant to say jerriecan here but I'll choose to believe that you also enjoy the way I write my characters.

Quite right CeJay, I did mean jerriecan, and apologise for the mix up. Though in my defence I must say you both write convincing characters. Hence my confusion.

 

[CeJay]

Great conclusion with at least a couple clever surprises which managed to turn the the tide of the battle just in time to ensure Pathfinder's eventual victory. And Proudfoot got the ending herdeserved, going down with his ill-fated ship.

The Romulan spy on board was a nice touch. Now the question is, what are her masters truly after if it wasn't Achilles?

Well done.

 

[jerriecan]

Thank you both for your kind words! I'm glad you stayed with the story to the end. As for what the greater goal of the spy is... well, let's just say it's big. Very big.

Stay tuned for more in the series to find out!

 

[Count Zero]

Wow, what an ending! Very well written and well plotted story. I'm looking forward to the next one.