Star Trek : Restoration

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by CaptainSarine, Aug 29, 2009.

  1. CaptainSarine

    CaptainSarine Commander Red Shirt

    Aug 27, 2009
    Lyon, France
    Disclaimer: Credit where credit's due - the basic idea for this timeline comes originally from a man called Dan Carlson. He has a great website at and has kindly 'loaned' me the ST Restoration idea for development here. You can find his initial ideas at I will warn you that although I have changed quite a lot in my own story/timeline/etc... there may be a few spoilers for what I may or may not be doing with this story on the website. So be warned! :)

    Anyway, without further ado...

    Star Trek: Restoration
    Book One : A New Order

    Chapter 1

    3rd March, 2631
    The Hounslow Residence
    Southern France

    "It is 0700 hours."

    The familiar sound of the computer pulled Ba'el Sarine from his nightmare. It lingered a moment longer – he was back on the bridge of the Enterprise, giving the order, watching the blackness unfold across the planet on the viewscreen as the voices screamed over the intercom…

    Third time this week, he thought as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling. That’s gotta be a record.

    He waited a few moments to see if sleep was still within his grasp, then gave up. Sliding out of bed, he padded across the room to the fresher unit. The water took a moment to sputter out of the tap. He splashed some on his face and behind his neck, then glanced in the mirror. God, Ba, you look like hell. His eyes were sunken, the dark blue of his iris’ verging on the black in the dim light. He brushed his lanky, unkempt hair away from his pointed ears, the scar tissue evident on the left one. He let it fall back. How long has it been since I’ve been to have a haircut? He realised he couldn’t remember.

    Shaking his head, he walked to the door, which slid open to reveal the vast living room beyond, bathed in sunlight. He was blinded for a moment, lifting a scarred hand to protect his eyes

    "Computer, shade."

    Within seconds, the blinds began to slide across the window, only sticking twice as they swept out from the wall. They filtered out some of the early morning sun's bright glare. He could still see out of the vast wall to wall windows, his eyes taking in the majesty of the southern European coast. The azure tint of the sky met the darker blue of the Mediterannean far on the horizon. Ba’el stood there for a moment, taking in the view. He wondered how many times his mother had stood here looking out over the same vista before the Dominion killed her.

    Turning away from the window, he grabbed his robe from the back of a chair and walked over to the small kitchen area. He sat down on a stool, switching on the small comm screen he had installed the week before. The floor beneath him shook slightly as the generator turned on in the basement. The screen sputtered to life

    An attractive blond woman in a tailored blue suit sat in front of a holographic display showing the spinning glory of the Milky Way. The words Your Galaxy Today spun around and around the galactic hologram.

    "... telling us that until the Andorians make an official request for our assistance, there is nothing the FAW can do."

    Ba’el reached down and grabbed a bowl as the woman went on, "In other news, the Laurentine Hegemony has recently reopened negotiations for the possible presence of a Federation starship to be permanently attached to their space station Onyx. This has been welcomed by the Federation Security Council on Romulus as a major step towards normalising relations between the two nations. However, Admiral Killstreet has..."

    Ba'el was reaching for the box of cereal above his head when a beeping sound interrupted the news feed. He touched the screen and a menu appeared, informing him that there was a comm signal coming through. Ba’el blinked. He hadn’t received any kind of call since he had moved in to his mother’s old house three months before. Especially not one with a Starfleet ID code.

    Reluctantly, he touched the flickering icon to accept the call. Nothing happened. He touched the screen harder this time and it went black.

    He was about to hit the damned thing to bring it back on line when the screen flickered and a smart young Ferengi male in a Starfleet ensign’s uniform appeared. Behind him, through the thick static, Ba’el could just about make out a Starfleet comm centre, banal in its organised chaos.

    "Captain Sarine. Please hold for Admiral Kovat."

    Before Ba'el could object that he was no longer a captain of any kind, the screen went black again, replaced rapidly by the dark-skinned, reptilian face of a Cardassian, also in a Starfleet uniform. His cheeks were marred by three long scars, which ran from his forehead all the way down before vanishing beneath his uniform collar. The scars tensed as the man smiled

    "Ba'el.” He seemed genuinely happy to see his old friend. “You look like you’ve been dragged through the streets by a Klingon."

    "It's good to see you too, sir." It was only partly a lie.

    Jasad Kovat had been Ba'el's cell leader during the Occupation. The two had fought together in too many engagements to number. Once they had infiltrated a Dominion training facility and assassinated both the Vorta overseer and the Jem’hadar First and Second before they were found. They had escaped aboard an ancient Bajoran freighter whose warpdrive had given out after seven lightyears. Both men had remained close right up until the end of the war when Kovat had joined the fledgling Starfleet, shoved upstairs almost instantly with the rank of Admiral. As for Ba'el... Ba'el had come to Earth, the homeworld he had never known, to this house where his mother had once lived. He'd left the war and its aftermath far behind.

    "I'm on Earth for a conference,” Kovat said. “I was hoping I could come out there and see you."

    “What for?"

    Kovat seemed taken aback by Ba’el’s tone. I’m not part of your Starfleet, Jasad. We did things differently in the Resistance, or have you already forgotten? Still, he recovered well, his smile only faltering for an instant. “Just to catch up, see how you’re doing. I haven’t seen you since…”

    “Yeah,” Ba’el cut him off. He didn’t need a reminder of the Incident. He lived through it often enough in his dreams.

    An uncomfortable silence grew between them. Kovat avoided Ba’el’s gaze, obviously aware of what was going through his old friend’s mind. Finally, the quiet became too much for him. “It’s important, Ba’el. You know I wouldn’t contact you otherwise."

    He thought about it, then decided it couldn’t hurt. His former commander might even be telling the truth. He shrugged. “Why not.”

    "Excellent,” Kovat said with a tight smile. “I’m going to be here in London giving a report to the Refugee Comitte for the whole day, but I could probably comandeer a transport out your way around 1700. I could be at your house by 1800."

    "Fine. I'll make us some dinner."

    "Looking forward to it."

    "Me too," Ba'el lied.

    The comm line broke off, leaving Ba'el to stare at the blank screen. He sat there, idly rolling the bowl over the work desk with one finger, wondering exactly what Kovat wanted. Despite what the Admiral had said, he had the distant feeling it had nothing to do with old times or swapping war stories. In fact, he thought he knew exactly what Kovat wanted to see him about.

    And he was almost sure that he wasn’t going to like it.
    Last edited: Aug 30, 2009
  2. CaptainSarine

    CaptainSarine Commander Red Shirt

    Aug 27, 2009
    Lyon, France
    Chapter 2

    Same day
    USS Ulysses
    En route to Romulus

    Deep in the darkness, Kalara stalked her prey, a tight hold on her bat’leth. All of her senses were alert and her muscles tense beneath her skin-tight leotard. Her blood sang the song of the hunt, the song even her ancestors had been unable to tame. Lips curled back, she revealed the sharp teeth that were her genetic heritage as a Klingon. Her head rose and she sniffed the dust-ridden air, searching for a hint of her prey.

    She knew that the tunnels wound round towards a central cavern. A few side passages offered places to hide, but she did not think her opponent would be capable of such subterfuge. No, he would be waiting for her somewhere in these passageways. She just hoped that he would not be so crass as to simply be waiting for her in the central cave. She paused again, tossing her head this way and that as she sought out any trace of him on the air. Nothing.

    She moved on. There was no natural light in the tunnel system, but she could see perfectly well in the darkness. It was one of many advantages she held over her prey. He would need some kind of equipment to be able to distinguish her in the shadows. Hopefully, that would give him away long before they found one another.

    Pausing at a crossroads, Kalara flicked out her tongue, tasting the air. She felt the chalky taste of dust, the stale slick of enclosed air. And something else. A tang of sweat. Coming from behind her.

    She spun round just in time to see a shadow detach from the wall and spring at her. Her eyes caught the slightest glint of metal in his hand. How did he get behind me? She grinned and spun again, this time kicking out with her left foot. She caught her adversary on the chin, the impact almost sending her toppling over. She dropped into a crouch as her opponent went down with a grunt. To her surprise, he tucked and rolled, his dk’tagh knife scoring a line in the rock. He flowed back to his feet, his features surprisingly feral as he sneered at her.

    Have you been practicing, Damien?

    “Is that the best you can do, little girl?” The taunting tone in his voice sent a thrill through her lithe frame.

    Steeling her face against the feeling, she began to circle round him, spinning her bat’leth a few times as she danced across the rock. She curled her upper lip, her tongue darting out as her breathing quickened.

    “If you want more, come and get it,” she sneered.

    To her dismay, he took the invitation, rushing forward with an almighty roar. Oh, Damien. She side-stepped easily, the blade of his knife passing a good few centimetres from her side. She allowed her body to flow around, following him and bringing her bat’leth around to strike him behind the knees. The blow took out his legs and sent him tumbling to the floor. His knife skittered away, lost in the darkness.

    Kalara moved quickly, springing from her crouch and pouncing on him. She straddled him, her bat’leth already in motion. She stopped it inches from his throat, one of the inverted blade points pressing against his skin.

    “Do you yield?”

    To her surprise, her opponent laughed. His oh-so human features scrunched up and his shoulders began to rise and fall. For a moment, Kalara stiffened, her Klingon blood screaming for her to avenge the insult by taking his head from his throat. Then she remembered who this man was and she stilled her hand.

    “May I ask what is so funny?” she growled.

    He shook his head, his attempts to choke back his laughter failing miserably. As he began to cough uncontrollably, she sighed. Climbing off of him, she sat down on the floor, crossing her legs and staring at him.

    “Damien, if you’re not going to take this seriously…” she began.

    “No!” He coughed again, then started to giggle. “I do, I do. I swear, I’m taking this seriously.”

    She eyed him. “It does not look like it.”

    He shook his head, trying to hold back the laughter. “It’s just when you asked whether I yielded, I had a flash of the look on your face this morning when…” He broke off, his laughter seizing him again.

    “When what,” she asked, her voice dangerously low. She had a feeling she knew what he was going to say.

    “When… when… when that Tellarite girl asked why you had those funny wrinkles on your face.” He began to howl with laughter, rolling around on the cave floor. Kalara did not find the story funny, nor had she that morning. The incident had occurred back on Earth, when they had been waiting to board the Ulysses. She was sure that she had maintained her usual honorable composure during the whole incident.

    Still, Damien had one of the most infectious laughs she had ever heard. The sight of him rolling around on the cave floor, covered in dust, his face red, forced a chuckle from her. This single crack in her demeanour only pushed him further, which increased her own laughter. Within moments, the two of them were both on their backs, howling like a couple of Khitomer sabre-wolves.

    “Oh God,” Damien wheezed, clutching his belly as his laugh faded to a mere chuckle. “I’m sorry, Kali. I know how important it is for you to teach me the Klingon way. Let’s go again. I promise I’ll do better.”

    She felt a surge of affection and attraction for her husband. He may not be a Klingon, he may not be a warrior, but he loved her and he was the only person who could pierce her armour of honor and responsibility. It was the reason she loved him. The reason she had married him despite her mother’s objections.

    Reaching out, she laid a hand on his arm. “I don’t much feel like fighting, anymore.”

    The tone in her voice was unmistakeable. He looked over her, a cocky grin on his face. He growled. “Kalara, daughter of Elyra, are you propositioning me?”

    She loved the edge to his voice. A shiver ran down her spine. Sliding across the rock floor, she swung her leg over his body, then straddled him. She leant down over him, letting her dark hair brush over his face. Then she bit his shoulder. Hard.

    “What do you think?”

    After that, there were no more words.


    Once they had finished, they lay together on the cave floor. Her body was bruised, her breasts hurt where he had bitten her, while her legs were red with teethmarks. Their clothes lay in a heap beside them. Kalara felt wonderful. We managed to rip almost everything this time, she thought with a smile, her head cradled in the small indentation where Damien’s arm met his shoulder. He’s getting better.

    Lying there, in the darkness, she wondered how this had happened. She hadn’t been looking for love, especially not with a human. Her people may have gained in respect for the human race since seeing them fight so bravely during the Occupation, but they still considered them weak in comparison to Klingon.

    And this one is not even a warrior, she heard her mother’s voice in her head. He cares for children. A woman’s job!

    She couldn’t deny it. Damien was a school teacher. He was also a writer, a novelist who wrote historical novels set before and during the Dominion Occupation. Thanks to his second job, he had been able to take an indefinite leave of absence and join her now on the Redemption. The Restoration-class starship was to be her first command and she was waiting for in the space docks in orbit of Romulus.

    Of course, it was also his career as a novelist that had brought the two of them together. Damien had come to Khitomer doing research for a new book. Kalara had taken a month’s leave to spend some time visiting her mother’s estate on the homeworld. She remembered the day that Damien had shown up, dressed in slacks and a shirt, asking whether he could ask her mother a few questions about Korloth, her grand-father, who had been a key figure in the Khitomer Riots. He had been totally fearless before Lady Elyra, which was one of the first things Kalara had noticed about him. He may be a mere human, but only a man with a Klingon heart could stand up to Lady Elyra of the House of Maraka.

    Kalara had been so impressed that she had volunteered to show him around the estate and help him trawl his way through the reams of family history that her mother kept meticulously in the House archives. The two of them had discovered mutual interests and a shared love for pre-Occupation Klingon politics. The rest…

    “The rest was…” she murmured, more to herself, trying to jog the rest of the human expression from her memory.

    “Hmmm?” Damien stirred beside her.

    “What is that human expression? The rest is…?”

    “What?” he muttered, obviously still half-asleep.

    She smiled to herself and patted his side. "Don't worry. Go back to sleep." She squirmed slightly, making herself more comfortable.

    Her husband murmured something she couldn't make out, his breathing slowing. Kalara closed her eyes, snuggling up against him. Of course, if anyone ask, she would deny ever snuggling anything. The feeling, though, was very agreable.

    She was just drifting off when a voice cut through the darkness, destroying any chance of sleep. "Commander Thomas to Commander Kalara."

    Kalara’s eyes snapped open. In moments, she transformed from a wife to a Starfleet officer. She reached across her husband, who groaned loudly, and tapped the comm badge she had hidden in her clothes.

    "Kalara here."

    "Sorry to interrupt your training session, Commander, but there's a priority message coming in for you. From Starfleet Command."

    Any last trace of sleep evaporated. She sat up, seeing her husband looking at her blindly in the darkness. She could see the confused look he wore. The Ulysses should only be five hours out from Romulus. Surely Command could have waited until she arrived to speak to her.

    Still, one didn’t keep Command waiting. Especially not if you were just about to be minted Captain of a brand new starship.

    "Patch it in down here," she instructed the Ulysses XO, reaching down to grab her robe.

    Draping it over her, she moved a few steps away from her husband. Asking for the computer to show the holodeck’s arch, she turned her face away as the bright lights appeared out of the cave wall. Damien groaned again at the sudden brilliance. Hushing him with a waved hand, she moved into the arch, standing as close as possible to the screen. Let’s hope he can’t see the bruises.

    When the communication was established, Kalara was surprised to see an elderly Ferengi staring back. She had been expecting Admiral Kovath to be contacting her since he had offered her the position of Captain and would be handling the reception aboard the Redemption. Instead, she found herself face to face with this Ferengi, white hair sprouting copiously from his large ears. Still, from the pips on his jacket, she could see that he was a Vice-Admiral.

    "Sir," she said, snapping to attention.

    "Commander Kalara?" he peered at her as though through a veil of mist.

    "Yes, sir."

    "Is it my imagination or are you a Klingon?"

    "Sir?" She didn’t know what else to say.

    "Surprising nowadays to see a Klingon in the Federation, considering your people ditched us all the moment the Occupation was over. I suppose you're one of those Khitomer Klingons, aren't you?"

    She gritted her teeth. Is he purposefully trying to insult me? "Sir. Yes sir."

    "Never understood the difference myself,” he said dismissively. “Anyway, as the humons like to say, that is neither here nor there. Of course no one knows where either location actually is. Still… I'm contacting you to inform you of a change in your orders. You are not to report to the Redemption when you reach Starfleet Command here on Romulus. Instead you are to report to my office.”

    “Sir! I was told to report to Admiral Kovath aboard the Redemption. Why hasn’t he contacted me directly?”

    “Admiral Kovath has other things to deal with. You are to report here to my office, Commander Kalara. Is that understood?”

    “Sir. Yes sir.”

    “Good.” He peered at her. “What are those bruises on your face?”

    She flushed. “I… I injured myself in a training exercice.”

    “Well, be that as it may, it would be more fitting for a Commander to show the proper example to those who serve under her. I will see you when you arrive. Command out.”

    Before she could say anything else, the screen went black. Kalara stood there a moment longer, just staring at the screen. Her thoughts were in a whirl. There was only one reason she could see for this change of orders and the fact that Kovath had not wanted to talk to her directly. Her anger flared.

    "What was all that about?" Damien asked, coming up behind her.

    "I don't know,” she said through gritted teeth. “I think..." She trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the sentence.

    "What?" Damien pushed her.

    She turned and looked down at him, her eyes blazing. "I think I just lost Redemption."
  3. CaptainSarine

    CaptainSarine Commander Red Shirt

    Aug 27, 2009
    Lyon, France
    Chapter 3

    That Night
    The Hounslow Residence
    Southern France

    With dinner over, Ba’el and his guest headed outside, a glass of Romulan ale in hand. One of the first things Ba’el had done when he returned to his mother’s home was to restore the garden. Enclosed by a high wall, the garden was now cloaked in darkness, but during the day it was a splendid vista of colours. Even now, though they were hidden, the plants and flowers filled the air with a heady aroma of life.

    Both men stood for a moment, both staring up at the stars. Ba’el cradled his glass in both hands, enjoying the silence. The evening had gone well, so far. Kalota had held to his side of the bargain and the conversation had revolved around happy memories from their times in the cell – mad escapes, insane plans, simple moments spent around a camp fire on some Beta Quadrant planet, waiting for the sun to come up. For a few hours, at least, Ba’el had almost been able to forget what the war had cost him.

    Then Kalota spoke. "Don't you miss it?" he asked. Ba’el’s heart sank.

    Here we go. Ba’el decided not to allow his old friend to come at him from a tangent. "Why don't you cut the crap and tell me why you really came here, Jar?"

    The Cardassian turned away from the starscape. His face had changed – Jarin Kalota, the friend and former ally, was gone. Jarin Kalota the Starfleet Admiral, a man charged with great responsibilities, now stood in his place. He was all business, as he said, "I want you to join Starfleet."

    Ba’el shook his head. "Not going to happen."

    "At least hear me out."

    "For what?” Ba’el snapped. “So you can give me some speech about honor and freedom and responsibility? I've heard it all before, Jar. From you, from Carlson, and Dana, and Ly'et. I told you then, I've served my time." He looked off into the shadows at the bottom of the garden, his eyes seeming to pierce the darkness. "I've paid the price."

    "We know all of that, Bay. And we respect it. You know I wouldn't ask this of you if I had any other choice."

    "There are always other choices, Jar. I learned that after Lutara.”

    The spectre of that mission, and its aftermath, hung between them for a long moment, like a physical presence. Ba'el went back to staring at the stars as Kalota gathered himself.

    "This isn't just any mission, you know? We want you to command the Redemption."

    "Never heard of her."

    "You wouldn’t have. She's fresh out of space dock. The first in a new line. Restoration-class."

    "Subtle,” Ba’el snorted. “Redemption. Restoration. What's next? USS We're-Very-Sorry?"

    "She's a good ship, Bay. Top of the line. Like one of the ships we would have built before the Occupation. Better than the Enterprise even.” He paused. “We're thinking of making her the flag."

    Ba’el couldn’t help glancing at Kalota. "You're offering me the flagship?" Kalota nodded. Ba’el shook his head. "You must be desperate."

    "You want the truth? Yes, we are."

    "But why? Why do you want me to join your little toy navy so bad?"

    A touch of heat seeped into Kalota's next words. "To tell you the truth, Bay, I don't. I don't need the grief. I don't need the guilt."

    "Then why the hell are you..."

    "It's the Laurentine."

    "What?" Now Ba’el was totally confused.

    "Two weeks ago, the Hegemony opened negotiations with the Federation. They have agreed to allow one of our ships to be posted to Onyx. We already had Redemption ready to go, crew chosen, captain selected. It seemed like the perfect opportunity. Then, a few days ago, the bastards added a condition. You."

    "What are you talking about, Jar?"

    "The Hegemony will only allow us to send a ship if you command it."

    Ba'el didn't know what to say. The Laurentine Hegemony lay on the far side of the Federation. They had seized a large chunk of what had once been Klingon space during the Occupation, allying themselves with the Dominion. As far as anyone had been able to tell, they had arrived from outside the galaxy, crossing the intergalactic rift in order to flee some unnamed foe. When the Dominion turned against them, the Hegemony joined the fledgling Resistance. Their help had been instrumental in the last years of the war. After the end of the Occupation, though, the Hegemony had vanished back beyond their borders, refusing each and every attempt the Federation had made to reach out to them.

    "Why?" Ba’el asked after a moment.

    "I was hoping you could tell me."

    "I have no idea.” He wracked his brains, trying to think of anything that could have ? this request. He couldn’t. “I mean I fought alongside a few of them during the War, same as anyone in the Resistance. I spent a few months aboard the Onyx Station when we were designing the Enterprise. But from there to making a personal request for my presence on this mission..." He shook his head. It makes no sense.

    "You know how important this could be, Bay,” Kalota pressed. “We've already lost Andor, Vulcan and the Klingons, not to mention the dozens of independant worlds that chose to go their own way after the Occupation. The Earth Conference was a disaster. We can barely call ourselves the Federation of Allied Worlds."

    "Now with the Klingons making forays into our territory, the Andorians proclaiming a new empire, the Gorn and the Breen baring their teeth... We can't afford another enemy on our doorstep. This is the first sign that the Hegemony may be willing to talk. If this goes well, we may be able to negotiate a more permanent alliance. Prophets, we may even be able to bring them into the Federation."

    Kalota lapsed into silence, waiting. Ba'el closed his eyes, processing what his friend had told him. Part of him felt for his old cell leader. They had both fought hard for their freedom from the Dominion, only to discover that that freedom was not as simple as it had seemed. Both had taken different paths at the end of the war, but their initial plan had been the same.

    But I made a promise, he told himself. I can't go back. I won't.

    Finally, he shook his head. "I'm sorry Jar. You're going to have to find another way."

    "There is no other way!” his old friend burst out. “Don't you have any sense of duty left? Your people need you!"

    "My people are buried at the bottom of this garden, Admiral,” Ba’el said coldly. “I abandoned them once, I won't do it again."

    "They're gone, Bay. Elera, Torvol, they died. You weren't here. How long are you going to punish yourself?"

    "As long as it takes."

    "The other Admirals were right.” Kalota waved his hand dismissively. “You are nothing but a shadow. You’re just waiting to die, aren’t you? Well I have news for you, Bay. You didn't die. You lived. That may hurt, but maybe it's about time you realised that we all lost people in the Occupation. We carry on. We get on with living. It isn't easy, it's damned painful in fact. But it's what people do. If you can't, then maybe it's time for you to end it."

    His old friend turned, walking back into the house. He paused in the doorway, not looking at Ba'el as he spoke.

    "There are millions of beings suffering out there, Bay. Picking up the pieces. You may have a chance here to make sure that the galaxy they wake up to every morning is a safer one than it could have been. Ask yourself what Elera would have wanted you to do. Think about all the other families who might be torn apart if the Hegemony decide we're a more tantalising victim than we are allies."

    Without another word, he was gone. Leaving Ba'el to the stars and the silence and the guilt.


    Once Ba'el had cleared away the plates and tidied the kitchen, he went back outside. He stood for a moment, enjoying the cool air and looking up at the stars. His mind echoed with Kalota’s last words – all of the other families who would suffer as he had suffered if another war broke out now. Could he let that happen? Could he turn his back on Jar, on everything they had fought so hard to gain? And for what? For the first time since Goltara, he actually wondered who he was doing it all for. For his wife and his son? Or for himself?

    Finally, he made a decision. Slowly, he walked down the path towards the bottom of the garden, pushing through the fringe of caspa roots, their tendril-like leaves brushing over his shoulder.

    They stood beneath a willow tree, their white brilliance like a beacon in the moonlight. Two marble stones, set in the ground. As he reached them, Ba'el fell to his knees in front of them, oblivious to the tears that had begun to fall.

    Her light will shine upon the Valley of Fire

    His light shone too brightly and faded too fast.

    There were no bodies underneath, of course. They had never been found. The blood had been enough. Now, only the headstones remained as markers.

    "I'm sorry," Ba'el whispered. "I'm so sorry." He bowed his head and began to weep.

    There was no reply.


    Admiral Jarin Kalota walked into his hotel room in New York in a foul mood. Ba’el’s stubborn refusal had been bad enough. When he had reached his transport, though, he had found another message from the Company, pressing for news on his efforts to convince his former friend to join the Redemption mission. He had erased it without responding. He wasn’t ready yet to give up, but he knew his time was running out.

    Throwing his jacket over the chair, Jarin headed for the fresher. A good long shower would clear his mind, help him gain a little clarity. Afterwards, he would ask the Prophets to guide him. He was halfway to the little shower room when he heard the beeping.

    He stopped in his tracks. The beeping was coming from the room’s comm terminal. He hadn’t told anyone which hotel he was staying in. No one, except… He hurried over and pressed the connection button. There was a slight lag in the transmission, then Ba'el's face appeared.

    By the Prophets, he looks as if he's seen a ghost.

    "Bay! What is it? "

    "I... I've reconsidered. What you said. What I said. I… I think it’s about time I did something to make sure no one goes through what I did. If you are absolutely sure that you still trust me. I know how people felt after the Enterprise, and… Well, I’m in. If you want me. What do I have to do?"

    As Kalota arranged a rendez-vous with Bay the next day at the Paris Transport Hub, he felt a surge of relief. The Company would be pleased.

    And he would really have hated ordering his old friend's execution.
  4. kes7

    kes7 Fleet Captain Fleet Captain

    Jan 29, 2008
    Sector 001
    This is an incredible start! Wonderfully written and full of interesting surprises. Keep going, I'm hooked already!
  5. Diogenes

    Diogenes Lieutenant Red Shirt

    Jul 18, 2009
    Well, I'm hooked one Kes7's fanfic. Now I find you. Just what I needed on a lazy saturday afternoon--some rest and restoration.

    The "Company"? "...ordering old friends' execution"? Whoa. I'm gazing at your hook with hungry eyes. Great start. I look forward to more.

  6. CeJay

    CeJay Rear Admiral Rear Admiral

    Feb 5, 2006
    Great stuff. You painted a dark but fascinating future in which the geo-political landscape has gone through some significant changes. A Dominion occupation has lead to a weaker Federation together with the Romulans, Cardassians and Ferengi but without the Vulcans and Andorians. And the remains of the Klingon Empire seems to be divided.

    Piecing together this new universe should be fun.

    Your characters are all fascinating, without exception. Kalara and Ba'el are early favorites and it looks as if they'll be ending up on the same ship. With the fiery Klingon sure to be peeved about having to play second fiddle to an old and reluctant war-hero.

    Some of these themes might seem cliched but your writing is so crisp and fun that it hardly seems to matter.

    Off to an excellent start.
  7. TheLoneRedshirt

    TheLoneRedshirt Commodore Commodore

    May 22, 2007
    Here and now.
    A very interesting premise of a dark future for the Federation. This has great promise - interesting characters, a fractured political landscape, even a mysterious "Company." I'm very much looking forward to more! :)
  8. tenmei

    tenmei Commodore Commodore

    Jul 10, 2004
    Manchester, UK
    An excellent start to a story - this is another fanfiction that I will definitely be following in the future!
  9. CaptainSarine

    CaptainSarine Commander Red Shirt

    Aug 27, 2009
    Lyon, France
    Hi all,

    Thanks so much for all of the kind words.

    Firstly, just wanted to say I added a small disclaimer at the beginning along with a title for this novel of the series (yes, I'm planning a few in the Restoration series).

    I'd really appreciate if you had a look at the disclaimer as it gives credit where credit is due to the man who initially came up with the Restoration timeline and has allowed me to play with it, give it my own twist and write these novels based on it.


    Considering how good Tesseract is, that is really high praise. Thank you so much. I'm hard at work on the next few chapters, hopefully I'll have something posted tonight.

    P.S - What are you doing reading other people's fanfics when you have the next chapter of Tesseract to post?!!! :lol:


    "Just what I needed on a lazy saturday afternoon--some rest and restoration."

    LOL! :) Thanks for your encouragment, we'll be seeing a little bit more of the Company as we go along but it's going to be more of a background while we explore the Redemption and especially Onyx Station.


    Thanks for the review! Wow, I'm blushing. I'm so glad you like these characters, I love both Ba'el and Kalara, and the interactions between the two promise fireworks. I hope you'll like the characters I'm going to introduce in the next few chapters as well.


    First off, love your signature. "Arghhhh!" LOL:guffaw:
    Yes, this is a very dark future for the Federation and trust me, it's about to get darker! :devil:


    Hope you enjoy what's coming up! :)

    Well, back to work on the next few chapters. Hope you'll all enjoy them. Thanks so much for all your kind words, it's really encouraging to carry on.

  10. kes7

    kes7 Fleet Captain Fleet Captain

    Jan 29, 2008
    Sector 001
    You caught me, I'm slacking. ;) (Nah, I've been working on it. There should be something up tonight.)

    Seriously, though, I was going to say the same thing to you, that after reading your fic I'm amazed that you like mine! You're a very talented writer, if these first three chapters are any indication.
  11. Gibraltar

    Gibraltar Rear Admiral Rear Admiral

    Sep 25, 2005
    US Pacific Northwest
    I'm onboard with this as well. :D What a terrific start to a new series... a post-Dominion occupation Federation trying to find its feet once again.

    And pulling the command carpet out from under a new captain is bad enough... but doing that to a Klingon? That's courting suicide! :lol:

    An intriguing plot, fascinating characters, and lots of promise.
  12. CaptainSarine

    CaptainSarine Commander Red Shirt

    Aug 27, 2009
    Lyon, France

    More tonight?! Yay :drool: Can't wait.

    Thanks so much - that means a lot! Let's say we're both very talented, highly attractive, immensely intelligent, fantastically brave, amazingly superhuman writers. What do you say? :lol:

    Then again, I get the feeling that a lot of people on here are like that, from what I've read so far.


    Glad to have you on board, take a seat, you're in for a wild ride! :)

    I'm just now writing Kalara's reaction to the Admiralty pulling out the rug... Fun to write, hope fun to read!

    I'm really flattered by everybody's reaction, though I have to say, starting to feel a bit nervous. Hope you'll like what's coming.

    Next chapter should be up by the end of the day.

  13. CaptainSarine

    CaptainSarine Commander Red Shirt

    Aug 27, 2009
    Lyon, France
    [LEFT]Chapter 4[/LEFT]

    [LEFT]4th March 2631[/LEFT]
    USS Redemption
    Starfleet Construction Yard
    In Orbit of Romulus

    [LEFT]Second Officer’s Log, 4th March 2631. Final preparations for launch should be complete by 1400 this afternoon, just in time for Captain Kalara’s arrival. Most of the crew is onboard and they seem to be settling in. Rumours are rife as to what our final mission will be, but no one seems to know exactly where Starfleet is sending us. Even if I wanted to, I could not clear up the uncertainty, as my own orders from Command have been very vague. I hope that Captain Kalara will be able to reassure the crew once she arrives. In the meantime, I am anxious to meet our new Operations Officer who is en route aboard his former vessel, the Reliant.[/LEFT]


    For the brief moment that the transporter effect lasted, Jasto was at peace. As soon as the Redemption’s transporter room coalesced into solid reality around him, though, Haebron began to scream, the sound echoing through his mind.

    Taken aback by the sudden change, Jasto took a moment to get his bearings. He blinked a few times, as if trying to clear his head. When he saw the smile on the transporter operator’s face, he quickly recovered and stepped down from the padd, hefting his duffel bag on his shoulder.

    A gold-skinned officer in a black and grey uniform - gold stripes running around his collar and down his arms - stepped forward, hand held out.

    “Lieutenant Dax? Welcome to the Redemption. I’m Lieutenant-Commander Ianto.”

    Jasto Dax took the outstretched hand, shaking it firmly. To his surprise, it was cold.

    “You were expecting something more… metallic?” the android asked with a wry smile.

    “Am I that obvious?”

    “No, not at all. It has simply been my observation that most non-artifical lifeforms have certain… expectations about androids. One of those is that their skin should feel cold or metal like. Thankfully, my father was able to perfect a nearly undistinguishable substitute for ‘living’ skin.”

    Jasto blinked. “Your father?”

    Ianto nodded. “My maker. The android known as Data.”

    “I didn’t realise that you and your fellow Data-class androids saw Data as a father. Sir.”

    “Most do not. I… I have a slightly more complicated relationship with our initiator.”

    Before Dax could ask any more, the comm badge on Ianto’s chest beeped. The android reached up and tapped it.

    “Lieutenant-Commander Ianto here.”

    “Sir, we have a problem down in Secondary Engineering. The power flow to the third slipstream drive is playing up. We were wondering if…”

    Ianto cocked his head, his eyes becoming glazed. Dax had heard that the few Data-class androids still around had a harmonic link to the ships they served on, allowing them to better deal with problems and even take full control of the ship if necessary. He guessed Ianto was connecting to the main computer to check the diagnostic systems. After a moment, he sighed. “I’ll be right there. Ianto out.”

    He focused on the Trill. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant Dax, I was hoping to give you a tour of the ship, but it looks like duty calls. If you wish, I can show you to your quarters on my way to Secondary Engineering?”

    “That would be fine, sir.”

    “After you.”

    The android bowed his head and indicated with a sweep of his hand for Dax to precede him out into the corridor. Stepping through the open door, the first thing Dax noted was how similar it looked to the pre-Occupation Starfleet corridors. The last time Dax had seen corridors like this had been aboard the Aventine, Ezri Dax’s ship. He had become so used to the dark, military grey of most Starfleet vessels built during and since the Occupation, that the unmarred white walls and bright illumination came as quite a surprise. The Romulan Construction Yards had made a real effort to replicate the feel of the old ships.

    He also noted the high level of activity that always preceded the launch of a new ship – he had seen it from a number of different perspectives over the span of his many lifetimes, from the lowly ensign carrying cables to a Jefferies tube, to the Captain walking the decks and getting acquainted with his crew. The Redemption didn’t seem any different. People ran every which way, only the cut and colour of their uniforms giving any hint as to what they were doing or where they were going.

    “The level of activity has increased exponentially over the past few days,” Commander Ianto said as he followed Dax into the corridor. Dax would have sworn he detected a hint of pride in the android’s voice. “I have noted a 46 % increase in congestion within the corridors and a 73 % increase in average foot speed.”

    Dax allowed himself an ironic smile. Ianto was a Data-class android, alright.

    “Did I say something amusing, Lieutenant?”

    There was the slightest hint of censure in Ianto’s voice and Dax reminded himself that this was not Data and he wasn’t Lerin. Ianto was, however, Dax’s direct superior. As second officer, Ianto was supposed to coordinate all of the different sections, including Dax’s own Ops position. He quickly erased the smile. Last time I was aboard a ship like this, I was her captain. Now… Well, this is going to take some getting used to.

    “No, sir. Sorry, sir”

    Ianto nodded curtly, then began to lead Dax down the corridor. “I believe that one of your hosts knew my father?”

    Dax nodded. “The first host born during the Occupation, Lerin Dax.”

    “Ah yes, I remember Lerin. An eager young rebel. A shame how he died.”

    Dax stopped short in surprise. Ianto turned and looked at him, a single eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry, sir. You remember Lerin?”

    “I travelled with my father in his last days, as the Dominion closed in. Every night, he imprinted his memory engrams onto my neural cortex, just in case he should be captured or killed. I carry a full set of his memories right up until the night when the Dominion finally caught up with him.”

    “On Seraphis.” One of Dax’s former hosts, Zaria Dax, remembered hearing about it as a child living on New Trill. The Dominion had proclaimed Data’s death all over the news services, proud to have finally brought down such a key member of the Resistance.

    “Exactly.” Ianto’s voice grew sad. “I stood with him as the Jem’hadar broke through our defences, but he ordered me to retreat, to carry on the work he had started to draw the Resistance movements together. He programmed each of his children with an obediance sub-routine, a special harmonic that none of us could refuse. I was compelled to leave him behind.”

    “I’m sorry.”

    Ianto smiled. “In a way, we are not at all dissimilar. I carry all of my father’s memories, which I will pass on in the event of my deactivation. Much as your symbiont passes on the memories from the former host.”

    Dax forced a smile as Haebron’s screams rattled through his mind. He struggled not to wince. He’s getting worse. He glanced at Ianto again. Trust me, Commander, we’re more different than you think.

    While they had been talking, Ianto had started walking again, leading them through the corridors to the nearest turbolift. They waited for a few moments among the milling crew members, then stepped on to the first available pod. Most of the crew members already aboard were young, the pip on their collars identifying them as ensigns. An uncomfortable silence fell over the pod as the two officers stepped on board. Dax tried to hold back a smile, remembering his own experiences as an ensign. And Ezri’s. And Jadzia’s. Both women had been the last members of the Dax ‘family’ to be members of Starfleet. Of course, after Ezri, there hadn’t been a Starfleet left to serve in.

    As the turbolift descended, Ianto carried on talking. Dax listened with half an ear – it was taking all of his concentration to do even that much with Haebron’s screams rising and falling every few moments.

    “I think you’ll find that the Redemption is very different to the ships you’re used to serving on. Starfleet has made a real effort to improve the living conditions considering the length of time we are probably going to spend out of range of a starbase. We have three holodecks, a number of recreational facilities and relatively large quarters. Of course, she’s nowhere near the size of pre-Occupation Starfleet vessels. In fact, by my calculations, she is about the size of the Constitution-class Enterprise.”

    Dax nodded politely. No! Haebron screamed in his head. Don’t. Please. Just… Stop. I’m begging you. Please, don’t!

    The turbolift stopped. When the the doors opened, Dax found himself face to face with a young human woman. Blond hair cut in a bob around a heart-shaped face, she would have been stunning if it hadn’t been for the brutal scar that twisted around her neck, starting on her left cheek. When her eyes met his, Dax’s blood froze.

    No! No! Haebron screamed at the sight of her. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. They made me. Please, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. I’m begging you. No!

    Clamping down on a sudden urge to scream, Dax took in a hitching breath. The young woman stared at him coldly then stepped on to the turbolift, nodding curtly to Ianto. She knows, Dax thought. She knows who I am.

    “Lieutenant Williams, I would like you to meet Lieutenant –“


    Ianto raised an eyebrow. “You know one another.”

    Lieutenant Williams glanced at Dax. He almost took a step backwards at the raging hate that blazed in those blue eyes. “We have never met. No.”

    Dax could only nod feebly. The lieutenant’s presence had turned Haebron into a raving monster. Dax felt his lips begin to move and he realised that he was mouthing Haebron’s words. Stop it! he screamed in his mind. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or if he was talking to the madman who shared his mind.

    Ianto seemed to sense the tension between the two of them. Still, he went on, “Lieutenant Dax, this is Lieutenant Astrid Williams. She is our primary helmsman.”

    Of course she is, Dax thought, stifling a groan. It had to be her. He nodded again, not trusting his voice. “The two of you will be working closely together,” Ianto went on, emphasising the word closely.

    Dax was saved from saying anything when the turbolift stopped. The doors opened, revealing a long corridor broken every few metres by a door. Ianto politely pushed through the ensigns, telling Astrid Williams that he would be seeing her later. Dax followed along behind, his mind in a daze.

    Ianto led him to a door a few feet down and pressed the pad. The door whooshed open, revealing the room beyond. “Here are your quarters, Lieutenant.”

    “Thank you, sir,” Dax responded, pretending to look inside. “They look perfect.” The door closed again.

    “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to Secondary Engineering. The Dominion’s Quantum Slipstream Device was a wonderful invention, but we’re nowhere near as proficient in its use as they were. Sometimes I miss the good old warp-drive.”

    “I know what you mean,” Dax said. “The price of carrying another man’s memories. Nostalgia.”

    Ianto smiled. “I’m sure you’re going to fit in fine, here, Lieutenant.” He held out his hand.

    “I hope so, sir.”

    They shook then Ianto headed back down the corridor. He stopped for a moment, then turned back. “I’m not sure what your history is with Lieutenant Williams, Lieutenant Dax, but as operations officer you are going to be working very closely with her. I hope that the two of you will be able to handle that.”

    “Of course sir. I’ll… I’ll speak with her.”

    “Good. Well, good day, Lieutenant.”

    “And to you, sir.”

    As soon as the Lieutenant-Commander had vanished into the turbo-lift, Dax let out a sigh of relief, his whole body shaking with the effort it had taken to hide his discomfort. Throughout the whole trip from the transporter room, Haebron’s screams had been getting increasingly louder, as if the moment of absence during transport had urged him on to greater effort. Seeing Astrid Williams had not helped. What is she doing here? Gritting his teeth, Dax slapped his hand on the pad and stepped into his quarters.

    He glanced around, barely taking in the simple bunk, desk and chair that were the only furniture. He hurried over to the bunk and threw himself down. Grinding his fists against his eyes, he groaned.

    “Stop it, Haebron. Please, you have to stop it.”

    Dax’s last host just continued to howl.

    Reaching down to his duffel, Dax rummaged around blindly until he found the hypo. Good thing I charged this up before beaming over from the Reliant, he thought. With trembling hands, he pressed the hypo to his neck and depressed the button. With a whoosh of air, the drug spread through his system. Moments later, Haebron’s voice began to fade. It took a good two or three minutes, though, for his screams to become little more than a murmuring in the back of his mind.

    Breathing out a sigh of relief, Dax rubbed at his eyes. Haebron had been getting worse over the past few months and the drug prescribed to him by Doc Jones was taking longer and longer to have an effect. Soon he was going to have to get his dosage increased. If the Redemption’s doctor would even allow it. Doc Jones had warned him of the dangerous side-effects of jalapamine.

    Lying back, Dax closed his eyes. Immediately, he saw Astrid William’s face. In his mind’s eye, though, she was screaming. He forced Haebron’s memory away. He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. He felt sick. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes again and wondered what he was going to do.
  14. tenmei

    tenmei Commodore Commodore

    Jul 10, 2004
    Manchester, UK
    Interesting new characters you've introduced there. I'm particularly intrigued by this new version of Dax.
  15. TheLoneRedshirt

    TheLoneRedshirt Commodore Commodore

    May 22, 2007
    Here and now.
    Now this is very interesting! Having the 27th century incarnation of Dax along with Data's descendant is a very nice touch. And Haedron Dax's madness makes the character that much more fun! :evil: And this Astrid Williams is the icing on the cake - dysfunctionality amongst the crew can lead to all kinds of havoc, er . . . fun! :lol:

    Very intriguing and very well written! :techman:
  16. kes7

    kes7 Fleet Captain Fleet Captain

    Jan 29, 2008
    Sector 001
    The Trill are so weird. I have never understood why they all swoon over hosting a symbiont, as it seems rife with the possibility of this kind of trouble.

    I like the descendant of Data ... I'd love to know more about how that came to be.

    You've got a great start here!
  17. CaptainSarine

    CaptainSarine Commander Red Shirt

    Aug 27, 2009
    Lyon, France
    Hi all,

    Thanks for your kind words. I was really nervous about this chapter, I didn't want it to seem like I was shoe-horning in these two characters and that it might seem too 'convenient' to have both Data's descendant and the new Dax on the same ship. Glad it hasn't seemed that way - both are intriguing characters in their own rights with plotlines I think (and hope) will surprise you.


    Glad you find Jasto intriguing - he has a lot to deal with!


    Thank you! Havoc is what it's all about, isn't it? Bring together a bunch of characters and then chuck as much trouble as you can at them! :evil: And trust me, the relationship between Jasto and Astrid is going to be very dysfunctional - she has a very good reason to hate Dax's guts.


    I'd say it's a real toss-up: lifetimes of knowledge and experience with the very real possibility that you'll also get stuck with the psychological scarring of the former hosts. Still, it makes for good fiction! :)

    More info on Ianto in a couple of chapters!

    Well, have a nice day everybody,

  18. Gibraltar

    Gibraltar Rear Admiral Rear Admiral

    Sep 25, 2005
    US Pacific Northwest
    Tremendous chapter. I'm already attached to both of these characters, and I've only just met them.

    It sounds as though Haebron was not only subjected to some horrific trauma, but he may have inflicted it on others as well. The scene between Dax and Williams in the turbolift was excruciatingly awkward, and I can only imagine how a real sit-down conversation between these two might go.

    As for Ianto, he's charming in an unconventionally android sort of way, and he's clearly no mere copy of his 'father.' Oh, and I love the name... any Captain Harkness' in the new Starfleet? ;)

    Looking forward to more!
  19. CaptainSarine

    CaptainSarine Commander Red Shirt

    Aug 27, 2009
    Lyon, France

    Thanks for the comment. It's great that you have grown attached to these characters, means I'm doing my job! :)

    You've nailed Haebron's past in one sentence - I'm glad it was understandable from the little snippets, I just hope that it hasn't given away too much - I'd quite like to keep some mystery as to what exactly happened. And we'll hopefully get to see that Astrid/Jasto conversation in the next few weeks...

    Cool, you recognised the Ianto name - I wasn't sure whether there were any other Torchwood fans on here. A Captain Harkness? Well, one never knows! :)

    I'll try to post some more at the end of the day.

  20. Diogenes

    Diogenes Lieutenant Red Shirt

    Jul 18, 2009
    Thanks so much for this chapter. Great stuff. I love the Trill! I'm glad to see that the Dax symbiont is still around.

    And any Data is better than no Data. Awesome.

    Rock on, Captain!