Seriously, you've got me totally Jonesing for the next episode(s)!! Question tho, did I miss it, or was the runabout not defending herself? That Temporal Prime Directive is a tricky widget after all...
Star Trek: USS Fortitude - Season Three
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Seriously, you've got me totally Jonesing for the next episode(s)!! Question tho, did I miss it, or was the runabout not defending herself? That Temporal Prime Directive is a tricky widget after all...
The runabout was defending itself. I'm already in the middle of Part Two. I hope to have it done either late tonight or early tomorrow.
Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Three, Episode Eight - “The Way Things Were, Part 2”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
Last time on Star Trek: Fortitude…
Thanks to the recent troubles caused by a mysterious Tah’Heen operative, Captain Ewan Llewellyn of the USS Fortitude, undertakes a journey back to Earth in order to gather intelligence related to the possible threat. Taking his First Officer, Commander Valerie Archer along with him aboard the Danube-class runabout USS Snohomish, NCC-59876, he is en route when a powerful energy vortex appears directly in their path and throws them into chaos.
Awakening in a daze, Captain Llewellyn and Commander Archer find themselves face-to-face with the infamous Enterprise, NX-01, and realize that they have been thrown back in time to May 5th 2152. With a gap of over two hundred and fifty years in both technology and historical knowledge, a tentative meeting takes place between the 24th-century Starfleet officers and Captain Jonathan Archer aboard the NX-01 where it is confirmed that Commander Archer is the legendary hero’s descendant. Before the timeline can be altered dramatically by exposing secrets of the future, Temporal Agent Daniels appears and explains the entire incident as an accidental side effect of the ongoing Temporal Cold War.
When the Suliban Cabal, led by the sinister Silik, appears and demands the Snohomish for their own nefarious purposes, a gigantic dogfight in space results in a hull breach aboard the runabout. Finding Commander Archer lying beside him fatally wounded by a shard of debris, Captain Llewellyn admits to his deep personal feelings for his First Officer and shares a tender kiss in her final moments…
… and now the conclusion.
ACT ONE
“Captain, one of the life signs aboard the runabout has faded,” a concerned T’Pol reported from the science station aboard the Enterprise, NX-01, her icy Vulcan demeanor not allowing that concern to be revealed. “My readings show only one surviving crew member after the hull breach.”
Jonathan Archer could have sworn an obscenity. It was his call to use Enterprise as a shield to protect the smaller future vessel, and now look at what had happened. The infuriated Suliban had circumvented him entirely and killed one of the 24th-century Starfleet officers… perhaps they had even killed the one who claimed to be his direct descendant. Despite being told not to by Daniels and by the future Captain himself, he wanted to ask her a few more questions. Perhaps, now with that chance gone. He felt his blood pressure rise in the increasing anger that he had difficulty keeping in check.
“Keep firing,” he ordered, single-minded as to not lose the second and final lifesign. “Target the lead Cell Ship! Phase cannons to full power!”
Malcolm Reed confirmed his orders, unleashing two relentless beams of orange-red energy from the ventral hull of Enterprise and blowing up a Suliban vessel. More of them swung around and returned the devastating attack in kind, but Malcolm’s precision combined with the fine piloting skills of Travis Mayweather made them easy targets.
“We’ve destroyed six targets,” Reed noted for a moment, his focus locked into the targeting sensors on his console. “That leaves fourteen Cell Ships still out there!”
“Captain,” Ensign Hoshi Sato piped in,” we’re being hailed.”
“Put it up,” Archer nodded.
“You’re losing, Captain,” Silik hissed at him. “Why not stand down?”
“That’s funny,” Archer retorted, though his temper was short. “It looks like we’re doing okay from here.”
“Give us the future vessel!”
“How about we keep knocking out your Cell Ships?”
Suddenly T’Pol caught her Captain’s attention. Jerking his thumb across his neck, Archer signaled to Hoshi to cut communications with Silik as he moved quickly to the science station. Once there, he saw what had the Vulcan woman so animated, even for her. The readings were both alarming and satisfying.
“It doesn’t appear that we’ll have to destroy any more of the Cell Ships,” the Vulcan observed drylu. “Providing, that is, you allow this to continue.”
Captain Archer was torn.
On T’Pol’s screen, there was an image of the runabout. It was barrelling through the battlefield, relentlessly targeting Cell Ships and blasting them into tiny spinning pieces of twisted alloy. One enemy vessel tried to counterattack but it was rammed… rammed! Whoever was at the controls of the Snohomish had presumably gone insane! Three more Cell Ships fell before another and another. Soon only four of them remained, including the one keeping the most distance from the fray. Archer deduced that was the one containing the slimy, cowardly Silik.
“The remaining Cell Ships are retreating, Captain,” Malcolm reported.
“Should I follow?,” asked Travis from the helm.
“No, stand down and come alongside the runabout,” Archer mused, returning to his command chair and perching on the edge. “Hoshi, hail them. I want to know just what that little moment of madness was all about.”
Ensign Sato made the call. “No response, Captain…
* * * *
Like all Denobulans, Doctor Phlox was a being of great compassion.
Still, there were times when he recognized the need to assert his authority over Sickbay and generally be cruel to be kind. This was one such time when materializing in a strange blue transporter beam directly in the center of his floor, the visitors from the future appeared, bloody and bruised. The male, Ewan Llewellyn, was carrying the female, Valerie Archer, and it looked as though the latter was a casualty of the recent battle.
“Doctor, help her!,” Ewan barked at him.
Taken somewhat by surprise, Phlox did his best to leap into action. For Ewan, it simply wasn’t good enough. The woman that he loved, the woman that he had never told, had died in his arms. If this were indeed the 24th century, reanimation within minutes of death wasn’t entirely impossible but here in the 22nd century, it was a false hope. As Phlox ran his medical scanner over the ghastly wound in Valerie’s abdomen, his face gave the diagnosis before his mouth could.
“Damn it!,” yelled the Welshman, crippled by his emotional agony. “You… you can’t do anything? I don’t know… dermal regenerator? Operate? Anything?”
“I’m sorry, but the wound is too extensive,” Phlox calmly stated, trying to bring the room down a notch and hopefully bring Captain Llewellyn down with it. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“Listen to me, Doctor,” snarled Llewellyn, his pain becoming manifest in unbridled anger as he launched across the biobed which Valerie rested upon and seized the Denobulan by his shirt collar. “I don’t care what you do. I don’t care what crazy primitive method that you use. Leeches, scalpels, your bare hands… you bring her back! You bring her back right now, you son of a bitch! It’s your job. You’re the bloody Doctor! You fix things. You heal people. Well, heal her! Bring her back!”
Phlox stared, entirely without fear, into the trembling visage of Ewan Llewellyn. It was time to assert his authority. He had seen the sweat mix with the dirt and the blood before. Not this particular sweat and blood, of course, on this particular tanned forehead under this particular dark hair… but he had seen it.
Fighting, the end result was always the same. Everybody was somebody’s child, many were somebody’s parent, and there were those who were somebody’s partner. It destroyed those who were left behind, doing the kind of damage that he was helpless to repair.
Inches away from Ewan’s face, ignoring the hands clasped around his throat, he kept his tone steady. “Unhand me, Captain. There is nothing that can be done. She is gone.”
“I don’t believe you!,” Ewan screamed, tears now joining that sweat, that blood.
“This is a Sickbay and I’m the Doctor. I’m the only person that you should believe. I am deeply sorry but the wound is too extensive. Now, kindly release me before I call Security and you can grieve while under guard.”
Was it harsh? Unfortunately, yes, but he stood by it nonetheless.
It worked.
Ewan let the Denobulan go, collapsing backwards and crashing to the floor as the tears flowed more freely and his body retreated inward. When Jonathan Archer entered Sickbay at that moment, seeing the scene that had just unfolded and suppressed his own violent reaction.
ACT TWO
Captain’s Star Log, May 6th, 2152;
After chasing the Suliban attack away from Enterprise and the future Starfleet runabout, I’ve ordered my crew to begin repairs. As Daniels works to find a way of returning Captain Ewan Llewellyn to the 24th century, I’m doing the best that I can to comfort my opposite number after the tragic loss of his First Officer… who just also might be my great, great-granddaughter. To say this is one of the more unusual log entries that I’ve made over the past year on Enterprise is perhaps the biggest understatement of my career.
The coffee tasted strange.
As Ewan's lips found the rim of the small cup and tilted the beverage into his quivering mouth, he realized that it wouldn’t be replicated coffee. No, this was the real thing with real side effects. On that note, he gulped the entire drink down, welcoming whatever relief that he could find from his present condition. Handing the empty cup and saucer back to his host, he beckoned for another.
Jonathan Archer was only too happy to oblige. While he had never gone through a situation as nightmarish as what happened aboard the runabout, never having faced the loss of a loved one, he could barely imagine the suffering that Ewan was going through. It was a torment beyond words, made all the more bitter by the fact that the mutual attraction between them had never been explored. Valerie liked Ewan and Ewan liked Valerie… loved each other, even, but in secret.
“A few more cups of this should sort that tremor that you’ve got going,” Archer noted with an attempt at a smile. “Or, at the very least, replace your tremor with a caffeine-related one.”
“Thanks,” Ewan replied weakly, swallowing another mouthful.
“I know that this probably breaks every regulation in your Temporal Prime Directive,” his host asked his misplaced, heartbroken guest,” but tell me about her. I promise that I won’t write down anything about the future.”
The Welshman looked at him and across the cramped Ready Room of the NX-class starship. For a fraction of a second, the overriding thought of Valerie subsided in his mind, allowing him to size up this heroic legend. This was the man who had several planets named after him. He had put the first signature on the Federation Charter. The man who had an entire semester at the Academy devoted to his ten-year mission, and he was the son of Henry Archer, perhaps the biggest name in warp drive history behind that of Zefram Cochrane. Here he was, pouring a simple thirty-seven-year-old officer from Swansea, Wales, another cup of coffee and trying his best to comfort his loss. Perhaps it was the fact that all of the circumstances surrounding those events were just so unreal. Perhaps it was the caffeine, but Ewan felt an incredible numb all of a sudden.
“What would you like to know?,” he finally asked him, lifting his head slightly.
“Well, for starters, how did she get to be your First Officer?,” Archer suggested, right off the bat.
Setting aside the quickly-emptied cup, Ewan cleared his throat and sifted through his memory. Images, sensations, and sounds… all from the early 2370s and all centuries away from where and when he saw now.
“My career wasn’t overly dramatic to begin with,” he slowly started to recall. “I was assigned to Stellar Cartography aboard the USS Hood and I returned to the Sol System to work on starship design. When I was promoted to Captain, given my own ship, and asked to select my own crew… I knew that I needed someone sitting beside me who had been out there, and who had seen the things that I could only imagine. I needed a strong right hand who could win a good fight. You see… I was somewhat of a pacifist.”
Archer gave a half-hearted laugh. Ewan frowned, silently asking for a reason.
“Sorry,” came the awkward apology. “It’s just, in principle, I wholeheartedly agree. However, in practice, I’ve found out that being the Captain doesn’t allow for pacifism.”
“That’s something that I’ve learned the hard way,” Ewan admitted to him. “Valerie helped me learn that lesson, along with a few others. She should have really been in command from the start, not me. Our first mission was to rescue a Starbase from an alien attack. We now call that Starbase home. When it came to the fight, I had the gusto to wade in but with a total lack of tactical know-how. Valerie was there. All I had to do was give her a look and she would leap right in, and win us the fight. She was incredible.”
“I can imagine. We Archers are made of strong stuff. We always have been.”
Llewellyn once again showed a frown out from underneath his dark fringe. This time, he wasn’t seeking an answer but a retraction. Archer got the message, knowing that he shouldn’t have been addressing the issue of his future family. One tiny change was all that it would take and there might not be a future family to speak off. Which would mean no Valerie and Ewan couldn’t stomach that thought. It was the thought that he was left with now.
“I can’t believe she’s gone, Captain,” he whispered in defeat.
* * * *
Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker III was absolutely baffled, once again.
Hovering in Engineering like a protective parent defending his beloved daughter, Trip was watching Daniels fiddle and tinker with technology that was beyond his comprehension and he was doing it dangerously close to the Warp Five engine that he had nursed and cared for in his position as Chief Engineer of Enterprise. Of course, Daniels himself was somewhat beyond Trip’s comprehension. Last year, he had watched as he had been vaporized at the merciless hands of Silik and yet in another twist thrown up by the headache-inducing Temporal Cold War, he was back, risen from beyond the grave.
“You do know what you’re doin’, right?”
“Commander Tucker,” the younger man sighed,” for the fifth time, yes!”
“I’m sorry. What does this thing do exactly, anyway?”
Pointing to the strange, smooth device in Daniels’ grasp, Trip frowned, trying to get a clearer line of sight inside the internal workings. Not that it would have done him any good to see inside of it as the technology inside of it was no less complicated than seeing the effect that it produced. Daniels was too busy analyzing the holographic display that floated before his eyes to stop Trip’s advances, too busy, bathed in the clinical blue glow of his work to bat his hands away.
“It coalesces various timestreams together,” the Temporal Agent murmured,” and I don't mind telling you that because you wouldn’t understand how it does so or what it should, or even what to do with… ah-ha!”
“Ah-ha,” Trip noted eagerly,” ah-ha sounds good. Say, while you’re makin’ progress, I’ve got a question for you. How come you’re so determined to protect the Capt’n from danger, but you allowed that future Starfleet officer to die?”
Daniels paused for a moment, wondering if he should act offended or otherwise. “Commander Valerie Archer, not to mention, Captain Ewan Llewellyn, is a wonderful person and a successful Starfleet officer,” he finally replied, opting for honesty in a rare break from his usual cryptic deportment. “Your Captain is a little more fundamental to the fabric of history. He had a destiny that I believe should be protected, even at the expense of wonderful people like her.”
“I’m getting a little tired of having my fortune told without my asking,” a familiar voice snapped at them from behind. Jonathan Archer had joined them, letting his annoyance subside in favor of a progress report. “What’s the latest?”
“I believe I’ve found a way to return the timeline to moral, Captain,” Daniels stated with some caution as he deactivated his holographic display.”
“But…?”
“There's a degree of risk involved. We should speak with Captain Llewellyn.”
Season Three, Episode Eight - “The Way Things Were, Part 2”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
Last time on Star Trek: Fortitude…
Thanks to the recent troubles caused by a mysterious Tah’Heen operative, Captain Ewan Llewellyn of the USS Fortitude, undertakes a journey back to Earth in order to gather intelligence related to the possible threat. Taking his First Officer, Commander Valerie Archer along with him aboard the Danube-class runabout USS Snohomish, NCC-59876, he is en route when a powerful energy vortex appears directly in their path and throws them into chaos.
Awakening in a daze, Captain Llewellyn and Commander Archer find themselves face-to-face with the infamous Enterprise, NX-01, and realize that they have been thrown back in time to May 5th 2152. With a gap of over two hundred and fifty years in both technology and historical knowledge, a tentative meeting takes place between the 24th-century Starfleet officers and Captain Jonathan Archer aboard the NX-01 where it is confirmed that Commander Archer is the legendary hero’s descendant. Before the timeline can be altered dramatically by exposing secrets of the future, Temporal Agent Daniels appears and explains the entire incident as an accidental side effect of the ongoing Temporal Cold War.
When the Suliban Cabal, led by the sinister Silik, appears and demands the Snohomish for their own nefarious purposes, a gigantic dogfight in space results in a hull breach aboard the runabout. Finding Commander Archer lying beside him fatally wounded by a shard of debris, Captain Llewellyn admits to his deep personal feelings for his First Officer and shares a tender kiss in her final moments…
… and now the conclusion.
ACT ONE
“Captain, one of the life signs aboard the runabout has faded,” a concerned T’Pol reported from the science station aboard the Enterprise, NX-01, her icy Vulcan demeanor not allowing that concern to be revealed. “My readings show only one surviving crew member after the hull breach.”
Jonathan Archer could have sworn an obscenity. It was his call to use Enterprise as a shield to protect the smaller future vessel, and now look at what had happened. The infuriated Suliban had circumvented him entirely and killed one of the 24th-century Starfleet officers… perhaps they had even killed the one who claimed to be his direct descendant. Despite being told not to by Daniels and by the future Captain himself, he wanted to ask her a few more questions. Perhaps, now with that chance gone. He felt his blood pressure rise in the increasing anger that he had difficulty keeping in check.
“Keep firing,” he ordered, single-minded as to not lose the second and final lifesign. “Target the lead Cell Ship! Phase cannons to full power!”
Malcolm Reed confirmed his orders, unleashing two relentless beams of orange-red energy from the ventral hull of Enterprise and blowing up a Suliban vessel. More of them swung around and returned the devastating attack in kind, but Malcolm’s precision combined with the fine piloting skills of Travis Mayweather made them easy targets.
“We’ve destroyed six targets,” Reed noted for a moment, his focus locked into the targeting sensors on his console. “That leaves fourteen Cell Ships still out there!”
“Captain,” Ensign Hoshi Sato piped in,” we’re being hailed.”
“Put it up,” Archer nodded.
“You’re losing, Captain,” Silik hissed at him. “Why not stand down?”
“That’s funny,” Archer retorted, though his temper was short. “It looks like we’re doing okay from here.”
“Give us the future vessel!”
“How about we keep knocking out your Cell Ships?”
Suddenly T’Pol caught her Captain’s attention. Jerking his thumb across his neck, Archer signaled to Hoshi to cut communications with Silik as he moved quickly to the science station. Once there, he saw what had the Vulcan woman so animated, even for her. The readings were both alarming and satisfying.
“It doesn’t appear that we’ll have to destroy any more of the Cell Ships,” the Vulcan observed drylu. “Providing, that is, you allow this to continue.”
Captain Archer was torn.
On T’Pol’s screen, there was an image of the runabout. It was barrelling through the battlefield, relentlessly targeting Cell Ships and blasting them into tiny spinning pieces of twisted alloy. One enemy vessel tried to counterattack but it was rammed… rammed! Whoever was at the controls of the Snohomish had presumably gone insane! Three more Cell Ships fell before another and another. Soon only four of them remained, including the one keeping the most distance from the fray. Archer deduced that was the one containing the slimy, cowardly Silik.
“The remaining Cell Ships are retreating, Captain,” Malcolm reported.
“Should I follow?,” asked Travis from the helm.
“No, stand down and come alongside the runabout,” Archer mused, returning to his command chair and perching on the edge. “Hoshi, hail them. I want to know just what that little moment of madness was all about.”
Ensign Sato made the call. “No response, Captain…
* * * *
Like all Denobulans, Doctor Phlox was a being of great compassion.
Still, there were times when he recognized the need to assert his authority over Sickbay and generally be cruel to be kind. This was one such time when materializing in a strange blue transporter beam directly in the center of his floor, the visitors from the future appeared, bloody and bruised. The male, Ewan Llewellyn, was carrying the female, Valerie Archer, and it looked as though the latter was a casualty of the recent battle.
“Doctor, help her!,” Ewan barked at him.
Taken somewhat by surprise, Phlox did his best to leap into action. For Ewan, it simply wasn’t good enough. The woman that he loved, the woman that he had never told, had died in his arms. If this were indeed the 24th century, reanimation within minutes of death wasn’t entirely impossible but here in the 22nd century, it was a false hope. As Phlox ran his medical scanner over the ghastly wound in Valerie’s abdomen, his face gave the diagnosis before his mouth could.
“Damn it!,” yelled the Welshman, crippled by his emotional agony. “You… you can’t do anything? I don’t know… dermal regenerator? Operate? Anything?”
“I’m sorry, but the wound is too extensive,” Phlox calmly stated, trying to bring the room down a notch and hopefully bring Captain Llewellyn down with it. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“Listen to me, Doctor,” snarled Llewellyn, his pain becoming manifest in unbridled anger as he launched across the biobed which Valerie rested upon and seized the Denobulan by his shirt collar. “I don’t care what you do. I don’t care what crazy primitive method that you use. Leeches, scalpels, your bare hands… you bring her back! You bring her back right now, you son of a bitch! It’s your job. You’re the bloody Doctor! You fix things. You heal people. Well, heal her! Bring her back!”
Phlox stared, entirely without fear, into the trembling visage of Ewan Llewellyn. It was time to assert his authority. He had seen the sweat mix with the dirt and the blood before. Not this particular sweat and blood, of course, on this particular tanned forehead under this particular dark hair… but he had seen it.
Fighting, the end result was always the same. Everybody was somebody’s child, many were somebody’s parent, and there were those who were somebody’s partner. It destroyed those who were left behind, doing the kind of damage that he was helpless to repair.
Inches away from Ewan’s face, ignoring the hands clasped around his throat, he kept his tone steady. “Unhand me, Captain. There is nothing that can be done. She is gone.”
“I don’t believe you!,” Ewan screamed, tears now joining that sweat, that blood.
“This is a Sickbay and I’m the Doctor. I’m the only person that you should believe. I am deeply sorry but the wound is too extensive. Now, kindly release me before I call Security and you can grieve while under guard.”
Was it harsh? Unfortunately, yes, but he stood by it nonetheless.
It worked.
Ewan let the Denobulan go, collapsing backwards and crashing to the floor as the tears flowed more freely and his body retreated inward. When Jonathan Archer entered Sickbay at that moment, seeing the scene that had just unfolded and suppressed his own violent reaction.
ACT TWO
Captain’s Star Log, May 6th, 2152;
After chasing the Suliban attack away from Enterprise and the future Starfleet runabout, I’ve ordered my crew to begin repairs. As Daniels works to find a way of returning Captain Ewan Llewellyn to the 24th century, I’m doing the best that I can to comfort my opposite number after the tragic loss of his First Officer… who just also might be my great, great-granddaughter. To say this is one of the more unusual log entries that I’ve made over the past year on Enterprise is perhaps the biggest understatement of my career.
The coffee tasted strange.
As Ewan's lips found the rim of the small cup and tilted the beverage into his quivering mouth, he realized that it wouldn’t be replicated coffee. No, this was the real thing with real side effects. On that note, he gulped the entire drink down, welcoming whatever relief that he could find from his present condition. Handing the empty cup and saucer back to his host, he beckoned for another.
Jonathan Archer was only too happy to oblige. While he had never gone through a situation as nightmarish as what happened aboard the runabout, never having faced the loss of a loved one, he could barely imagine the suffering that Ewan was going through. It was a torment beyond words, made all the more bitter by the fact that the mutual attraction between them had never been explored. Valerie liked Ewan and Ewan liked Valerie… loved each other, even, but in secret.
“A few more cups of this should sort that tremor that you’ve got going,” Archer noted with an attempt at a smile. “Or, at the very least, replace your tremor with a caffeine-related one.”
“Thanks,” Ewan replied weakly, swallowing another mouthful.
“I know that this probably breaks every regulation in your Temporal Prime Directive,” his host asked his misplaced, heartbroken guest,” but tell me about her. I promise that I won’t write down anything about the future.”
The Welshman looked at him and across the cramped Ready Room of the NX-class starship. For a fraction of a second, the overriding thought of Valerie subsided in his mind, allowing him to size up this heroic legend. This was the man who had several planets named after him. He had put the first signature on the Federation Charter. The man who had an entire semester at the Academy devoted to his ten-year mission, and he was the son of Henry Archer, perhaps the biggest name in warp drive history behind that of Zefram Cochrane. Here he was, pouring a simple thirty-seven-year-old officer from Swansea, Wales, another cup of coffee and trying his best to comfort his loss. Perhaps it was the fact that all of the circumstances surrounding those events were just so unreal. Perhaps it was the caffeine, but Ewan felt an incredible numb all of a sudden.
“What would you like to know?,” he finally asked him, lifting his head slightly.
“Well, for starters, how did she get to be your First Officer?,” Archer suggested, right off the bat.
Setting aside the quickly-emptied cup, Ewan cleared his throat and sifted through his memory. Images, sensations, and sounds… all from the early 2370s and all centuries away from where and when he saw now.
“My career wasn’t overly dramatic to begin with,” he slowly started to recall. “I was assigned to Stellar Cartography aboard the USS Hood and I returned to the Sol System to work on starship design. When I was promoted to Captain, given my own ship, and asked to select my own crew… I knew that I needed someone sitting beside me who had been out there, and who had seen the things that I could only imagine. I needed a strong right hand who could win a good fight. You see… I was somewhat of a pacifist.”
Archer gave a half-hearted laugh. Ewan frowned, silently asking for a reason.
“Sorry,” came the awkward apology. “It’s just, in principle, I wholeheartedly agree. However, in practice, I’ve found out that being the Captain doesn’t allow for pacifism.”
“That’s something that I’ve learned the hard way,” Ewan admitted to him. “Valerie helped me learn that lesson, along with a few others. She should have really been in command from the start, not me. Our first mission was to rescue a Starbase from an alien attack. We now call that Starbase home. When it came to the fight, I had the gusto to wade in but with a total lack of tactical know-how. Valerie was there. All I had to do was give her a look and she would leap right in, and win us the fight. She was incredible.”
“I can imagine. We Archers are made of strong stuff. We always have been.”
Llewellyn once again showed a frown out from underneath his dark fringe. This time, he wasn’t seeking an answer but a retraction. Archer got the message, knowing that he shouldn’t have been addressing the issue of his future family. One tiny change was all that it would take and there might not be a future family to speak off. Which would mean no Valerie and Ewan couldn’t stomach that thought. It was the thought that he was left with now.
“I can’t believe she’s gone, Captain,” he whispered in defeat.
* * * *
Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker III was absolutely baffled, once again.
Hovering in Engineering like a protective parent defending his beloved daughter, Trip was watching Daniels fiddle and tinker with technology that was beyond his comprehension and he was doing it dangerously close to the Warp Five engine that he had nursed and cared for in his position as Chief Engineer of Enterprise. Of course, Daniels himself was somewhat beyond Trip’s comprehension. Last year, he had watched as he had been vaporized at the merciless hands of Silik and yet in another twist thrown up by the headache-inducing Temporal Cold War, he was back, risen from beyond the grave.
“You do know what you’re doin’, right?”
“Commander Tucker,” the younger man sighed,” for the fifth time, yes!”
“I’m sorry. What does this thing do exactly, anyway?”
Pointing to the strange, smooth device in Daniels’ grasp, Trip frowned, trying to get a clearer line of sight inside the internal workings. Not that it would have done him any good to see inside of it as the technology inside of it was no less complicated than seeing the effect that it produced. Daniels was too busy analyzing the holographic display that floated before his eyes to stop Trip’s advances, too busy, bathed in the clinical blue glow of his work to bat his hands away.
“It coalesces various timestreams together,” the Temporal Agent murmured,” and I don't mind telling you that because you wouldn’t understand how it does so or what it should, or even what to do with… ah-ha!”
“Ah-ha,” Trip noted eagerly,” ah-ha sounds good. Say, while you’re makin’ progress, I’ve got a question for you. How come you’re so determined to protect the Capt’n from danger, but you allowed that future Starfleet officer to die?”
Daniels paused for a moment, wondering if he should act offended or otherwise. “Commander Valerie Archer, not to mention, Captain Ewan Llewellyn, is a wonderful person and a successful Starfleet officer,” he finally replied, opting for honesty in a rare break from his usual cryptic deportment. “Your Captain is a little more fundamental to the fabric of history. He had a destiny that I believe should be protected, even at the expense of wonderful people like her.”
“I’m getting a little tired of having my fortune told without my asking,” a familiar voice snapped at them from behind. Jonathan Archer had joined them, letting his annoyance subside in favor of a progress report. “What’s the latest?”
“I believe I’ve found a way to return the timeline to moral, Captain,” Daniels stated with some caution as he deactivated his holographic display.”
“But…?”
“There's a degree of risk involved. We should speak with Captain Llewellyn.”
ACT THREE
Ewan Llewellyn could be found in the Mess Hall of the NX-01. It was empty at this time of day with the lights turned down low, allowing for a better view of the stars outside the ship.
The strange stars…
The younger stars looked so much different than the stars that he was used to looking at. So much about this time period was unsettling and so much about this place was too far removed from the 24th century. Violence seemed to be an everyday occurence for Jonathan Archer, with fighting being a regular activity. It was a miracle that, until now, nobody from Enterprise had been lost in battle and it was a savage injustice that the one person to be lost was an innocent visitor who was out of her own place and her own time.
Ewan bowed his head. He was thinking about Jason Armstrong, understanding how he must have felt and how he feels now after losing Jim Morgan to the Klingons. There was a youngster on the first rung of the promotion ladder, coping with such devastation from day to day and yet coping nevertheless. Here was a Captain, supposedly stronger, a leader of men and women, who was doubting his ability to cope. In that moment of reflection, his respect for his Kentuckian operations officer tripled.
The door opened behind him, the sound barely registering in his mind.
“Captain Llewellyn?,” a voice called out. “Captain Llewellyn?”
“Yes… yes, sorry,” Ewan finally responded, turning to see Jonathan Archer and Daniels standing together. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually,” Archer smiled, as it was obvious that he had come, bearing good news,” I was thinking that we could do something for you. We have a way of sending you home to the 24th century. It’s risky but Daniels tells me that it should work.”
“The temporal anomaly that your runabout fell through,” Daniels explained to him, stepping forward past the empty tables,” was the side effect of a massive temporal incursion that I’ve managed to trace through the time streams. By identifying which incursion caused your particular anomaly, I can prevent it, thus preventing all of the collateral damage… including your unfortunate journey back here.”
“You mean,” Llewellyn asked carefully as he barely understood him,” if the anomaly never occurred, the runabout would have never encountered it?”
The Welshman from the future gave a big sigh, wrapping his mind around this new information slowly, absorbing all of the facets that he could manage. As he analyzed Daniels’ words, he suddenly remembered the mention of a risk. Indeed, he thought that it sounded a little too good to be true.
With a frown, he posed the question,” What’s the risk?”
“The nature of the incursion that I’ll be dealing with is delicate,” Daniels imparted under the steady gaze of Captain Archer. “We Temporal Agents had our own set of rules, much like your Temporal Prime Directive. If I fail to stop the incursions, I won’t be able to keep traveling back and forth through time infinitely. I’ll have one chance, and only one chance before I have to stand down and the incursion becomes part of what we call Solid Time or an Irreversible Historical Fact.”
“Making my presence in the 22nd century…”
“... permanent, and your hopes for returning home futile,” Daniels confirmed.
Before anybody could speak again, Ewan blinked hard. Something had snapped in his mind. A lightbulb had been turned on, clearing away the muddle of confusion surrounding this plan and the darkest shadows of his depression. If everything was erased from history and if none of it had ever happened…
For some reason, he felt a smile form on his face, a smile that grew as he put words to the lightbulb. “Valerie,” he gasped. “She would still be alive, wouldn’t she?”
“If none of this ever happened,” Jonathan Archer stated clearly,” then yes.”
There was no more discussion and no more weighing of the risks.
“Mister Daniels,” Llewellyn said, suddenly becoming very animated,” are you prepared to undertake this course of action?”
“Absolutely,” Daniels agreed, his own mind made up.
“Then, with all due respect to the 22nd century, get me the hell out of here!”
* * * *
Stepping into the Ready Room of the Enterprise for what he hoped would be the last time and before history was returned to normal for him, Ewan did his best to appreciate the significance of his action. It was a dire shame that his time with this ship of legendary status, with this crew of heroes, was such a roller coaster of emotions and struggle. Taking the seat that was offered to him by Captain Archer, he realized that it was also a dire shame for another reason, a reason imparted to him by Daniels as the Temporal Agent made ready his departure.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Archer said.
“I don’t think I need to point out the bits that I want to forget,” Ewan agreed in part with him,” but there are some facets of this experience that have opened my eyes a little more. You, for example, Captain, history remembers you as a pioneer and a hero. However, when all of that is said and done, you’re still Human underneath it all.”
“Weren’t you supposed to keep quiet about my future?,” Archer joked.
“None of this will ever have been said… which is a shame.”
“Anything else you feel like spilling before Daniels makes his exit?”
Ewan took a deep contemplative breath. Ever since arriving in the 22nd century, he had, niggling away in the back of his mind, the knowledge that with a few well-placed warnings, he could save millions of lives. Soon the Xindi would attack Earth, killing seven million innocent lives. Soon after that event, the first rumblings of the Earth/Romulan War would be heard across the sector. With the option of changing history now removed from his hands, he came close to telling Archer everything.
He paused just before he opened his mouth.
“No,” he said instead. “Daniels could fail. I could end up stuck here. I… wouldn’t want to alter history. You see, Captain, for all of the hardships that you will endure, for all of the suffering bestowed upon Humanity, the end result is worth it. Peace doesn’t come automatically. Utopia isn’t built in a day. Even in my time, Starfleet is leading the fight in a battle against yet another alien aggressor… but the fight is worth it, if only to protect what Humanity builds in your time.”
“You say that you were a pacifist,” Archer noted. “Boy, Valerie must have done quite a number on you. While you won’t remember this either, you should tell her how you feel sooner rather than later, Captain. With jobs like ours, tomorrow is never a guarantee.”
“It’s the way things were,” Ewan agreed with him.
“And it’s the way things are.”
The comms panel on Archer’s desk chirped. The Captain of Enterprise pressed the button, knowing what the call would be about and sharing a ‘this is it’ look with his guest from the future. Together, they listened to the call from Main Engineering.
“Capt’n, Daniels is underway,” Trip told them. “He says that if we’re all still here after he’s gone, then he’s failed and things are kinda stuck like this.”
Jonathan Archer blinked as he listened.
Within the space of that blink, Ewan Llewellyn had vanished.
Out alongside Enterprise, the runabout Snohomish was nowhere to be seen.
In Sickbay, Valerie Archer’s corpse disappeared.
EPILOGUE
“... so why contact the government?”
Valerie Archer flexed her tired muscles, realizing that she had been sitting in the co-pilot’s chair of the Starfleet Danube-class runabout USS Snohomish, NCC-59876 for almost three solid hours.
Beside her, Ewan Llewellyn survived a mini-war with a powerful yawn in order to reply to her question. They were discussing, as everybody was these days, the Tah’Heen. Who had hired a Tah’Heen to attack and damage Starfleet vessels? What known Tah’Heen operatives were near the Santrag system? What was the motive behind such actions? Even now, the runabout shared by Fortitude’s Captain and First Officer was undertaking the long journey back to Earth to try and answer some of those questions, meeting with several intelligence experts on the way.
“Everybody knows that they make perfect spies,” Ewan answered, remembering the briefing that he had gotten from Erica Martinez the first time that the name Tah’Heen had been used in conjunction with the virus outbreak on Starbase 499 and aboard Fortitude. “While the actual government never endorses their actions, the simple matter is that their natural lack of fingerprints or residual DNA samples make them excellent agents of subterfuge.”
“The question stands, Ewan,” Valerie pressed him, reaching for her coffee cup and finding it empty with a disappointed frown. “Why contact the government?”
“If they can help us identify which Tah’Heen has been following us around and messing with our ship, it can narrow down the search. Bloody hell, we’ve got to start somewhere. Otherwise, we’re just pissing off into the wind with a whole bunch of theories.”
“You know, sometimes you’ve got a wonderful way with words,” Valerie said, laughing.
“Benefits of a classical education, m’dear,” Ewan retorted in his best overblown Welsh accent, smiling through the confusion that had clouded his days. Suddenly an alert on his console added to that confusion, making him lurch forward. “Oh… for a moment there, I was worried.”
“What is it?,” asked his traveling companion with vague concern.
“Minor chronometric fluctuations to starboard that are barely worth anything. I’m surprised that the sensors even picked them up. So, anyways, what were we talking about? Oh, yes... “
The End.
Ewan Llewellyn could be found in the Mess Hall of the NX-01. It was empty at this time of day with the lights turned down low, allowing for a better view of the stars outside the ship.
The strange stars…
The younger stars looked so much different than the stars that he was used to looking at. So much about this time period was unsettling and so much about this place was too far removed from the 24th century. Violence seemed to be an everyday occurence for Jonathan Archer, with fighting being a regular activity. It was a miracle that, until now, nobody from Enterprise had been lost in battle and it was a savage injustice that the one person to be lost was an innocent visitor who was out of her own place and her own time.
Ewan bowed his head. He was thinking about Jason Armstrong, understanding how he must have felt and how he feels now after losing Jim Morgan to the Klingons. There was a youngster on the first rung of the promotion ladder, coping with such devastation from day to day and yet coping nevertheless. Here was a Captain, supposedly stronger, a leader of men and women, who was doubting his ability to cope. In that moment of reflection, his respect for his Kentuckian operations officer tripled.
The door opened behind him, the sound barely registering in his mind.
“Captain Llewellyn?,” a voice called out. “Captain Llewellyn?”
“Yes… yes, sorry,” Ewan finally responded, turning to see Jonathan Archer and Daniels standing together. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually,” Archer smiled, as it was obvious that he had come, bearing good news,” I was thinking that we could do something for you. We have a way of sending you home to the 24th century. It’s risky but Daniels tells me that it should work.”
“The temporal anomaly that your runabout fell through,” Daniels explained to him, stepping forward past the empty tables,” was the side effect of a massive temporal incursion that I’ve managed to trace through the time streams. By identifying which incursion caused your particular anomaly, I can prevent it, thus preventing all of the collateral damage… including your unfortunate journey back here.”
“You mean,” Llewellyn asked carefully as he barely understood him,” if the anomaly never occurred, the runabout would have never encountered it?”
The Welshman from the future gave a big sigh, wrapping his mind around this new information slowly, absorbing all of the facets that he could manage. As he analyzed Daniels’ words, he suddenly remembered the mention of a risk. Indeed, he thought that it sounded a little too good to be true.
With a frown, he posed the question,” What’s the risk?”
“The nature of the incursion that I’ll be dealing with is delicate,” Daniels imparted under the steady gaze of Captain Archer. “We Temporal Agents had our own set of rules, much like your Temporal Prime Directive. If I fail to stop the incursions, I won’t be able to keep traveling back and forth through time infinitely. I’ll have one chance, and only one chance before I have to stand down and the incursion becomes part of what we call Solid Time or an Irreversible Historical Fact.”
“Making my presence in the 22nd century…”
“... permanent, and your hopes for returning home futile,” Daniels confirmed.
Before anybody could speak again, Ewan blinked hard. Something had snapped in his mind. A lightbulb had been turned on, clearing away the muddle of confusion surrounding this plan and the darkest shadows of his depression. If everything was erased from history and if none of it had ever happened…
For some reason, he felt a smile form on his face, a smile that grew as he put words to the lightbulb. “Valerie,” he gasped. “She would still be alive, wouldn’t she?”
“If none of this ever happened,” Jonathan Archer stated clearly,” then yes.”
There was no more discussion and no more weighing of the risks.
“Mister Daniels,” Llewellyn said, suddenly becoming very animated,” are you prepared to undertake this course of action?”
“Absolutely,” Daniels agreed, his own mind made up.
“Then, with all due respect to the 22nd century, get me the hell out of here!”
* * * *
Stepping into the Ready Room of the Enterprise for what he hoped would be the last time and before history was returned to normal for him, Ewan did his best to appreciate the significance of his action. It was a dire shame that his time with this ship of legendary status, with this crew of heroes, was such a roller coaster of emotions and struggle. Taking the seat that was offered to him by Captain Archer, he realized that it was also a dire shame for another reason, a reason imparted to him by Daniels as the Temporal Agent made ready his departure.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Archer said.
“I don’t think I need to point out the bits that I want to forget,” Ewan agreed in part with him,” but there are some facets of this experience that have opened my eyes a little more. You, for example, Captain, history remembers you as a pioneer and a hero. However, when all of that is said and done, you’re still Human underneath it all.”
“Weren’t you supposed to keep quiet about my future?,” Archer joked.
“None of this will ever have been said… which is a shame.”
“Anything else you feel like spilling before Daniels makes his exit?”
Ewan took a deep contemplative breath. Ever since arriving in the 22nd century, he had, niggling away in the back of his mind, the knowledge that with a few well-placed warnings, he could save millions of lives. Soon the Xindi would attack Earth, killing seven million innocent lives. Soon after that event, the first rumblings of the Earth/Romulan War would be heard across the sector. With the option of changing history now removed from his hands, he came close to telling Archer everything.
He paused just before he opened his mouth.
“No,” he said instead. “Daniels could fail. I could end up stuck here. I… wouldn’t want to alter history. You see, Captain, for all of the hardships that you will endure, for all of the suffering bestowed upon Humanity, the end result is worth it. Peace doesn’t come automatically. Utopia isn’t built in a day. Even in my time, Starfleet is leading the fight in a battle against yet another alien aggressor… but the fight is worth it, if only to protect what Humanity builds in your time.”
“You say that you were a pacifist,” Archer noted. “Boy, Valerie must have done quite a number on you. While you won’t remember this either, you should tell her how you feel sooner rather than later, Captain. With jobs like ours, tomorrow is never a guarantee.”
“It’s the way things were,” Ewan agreed with him.
“And it’s the way things are.”
The comms panel on Archer’s desk chirped. The Captain of Enterprise pressed the button, knowing what the call would be about and sharing a ‘this is it’ look with his guest from the future. Together, they listened to the call from Main Engineering.
“Capt’n, Daniels is underway,” Trip told them. “He says that if we’re all still here after he’s gone, then he’s failed and things are kinda stuck like this.”
Jonathan Archer blinked as he listened.
Within the space of that blink, Ewan Llewellyn had vanished.
Out alongside Enterprise, the runabout Snohomish was nowhere to be seen.
In Sickbay, Valerie Archer’s corpse disappeared.
EPILOGUE
“... so why contact the government?”
Valerie Archer flexed her tired muscles, realizing that she had been sitting in the co-pilot’s chair of the Starfleet Danube-class runabout USS Snohomish, NCC-59876 for almost three solid hours.
Beside her, Ewan Llewellyn survived a mini-war with a powerful yawn in order to reply to her question. They were discussing, as everybody was these days, the Tah’Heen. Who had hired a Tah’Heen to attack and damage Starfleet vessels? What known Tah’Heen operatives were near the Santrag system? What was the motive behind such actions? Even now, the runabout shared by Fortitude’s Captain and First Officer was undertaking the long journey back to Earth to try and answer some of those questions, meeting with several intelligence experts on the way.
“Everybody knows that they make perfect spies,” Ewan answered, remembering the briefing that he had gotten from Erica Martinez the first time that the name Tah’Heen had been used in conjunction with the virus outbreak on Starbase 499 and aboard Fortitude. “While the actual government never endorses their actions, the simple matter is that their natural lack of fingerprints or residual DNA samples make them excellent agents of subterfuge.”
“The question stands, Ewan,” Valerie pressed him, reaching for her coffee cup and finding it empty with a disappointed frown. “Why contact the government?”
“If they can help us identify which Tah’Heen has been following us around and messing with our ship, it can narrow down the search. Bloody hell, we’ve got to start somewhere. Otherwise, we’re just pissing off into the wind with a whole bunch of theories.”
“You know, sometimes you’ve got a wonderful way with words,” Valerie said, laughing.
“Benefits of a classical education, m’dear,” Ewan retorted in his best overblown Welsh accent, smiling through the confusion that had clouded his days. Suddenly an alert on his console added to that confusion, making him lurch forward. “Oh… for a moment there, I was worried.”
“What is it?,” asked his traveling companion with vague concern.
“Minor chronometric fluctuations to starboard that are barely worth anything. I’m surprised that the sensors even picked them up. So, anyways, what were we talking about? Oh, yes... “
The End.
I'm sorry for any delays. Real-life has been using me as a target practice.
Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Three, Episode Nine - “The Computer”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
“Unbelievable! The nerve of some people!”
The Rose Garden, Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco, Earth… At that precise moment, Captain Ewan Llewellyn didn’t care where he was standing. The frustration within him was monumental and the irritation was overbearing. He didn’t want to vent it all towards Valerie Archer. She was the only one waiting outside for him.
“I take it that the meeting went well?,” she noted, her words dripping with sarcasm.
“Apparently, we’re not of fundamental importance,” Llewellyn ranted, the gray shoulders of his uniform shaking as he paced back and forth, not quite knowing what to do with himself in his current state. “The pressing matters with the Dominion has Starfleet wound up so tight that our Tah’Heen business is not a primary resource concern!”
“And that’s what had you wound up as tight as them?”
“No, it’s the carpet that they’ve got in there. Yes, of course, it is!”
Valerie was about to interject and use some choice words to stop her commanding officer from hitting warp speed without a starship when she became aware of two figures approaching them. Thanks to the sunlight, their shadows arrived before they did, giving the Fortitude’s First Officer time enough to warn Ewan. together, they turned to see a middle-aged married Human civilian couple.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man apologized,” but are you Captain Llewellyn?”
“Yes, I’m Ewan Llewellyn of the Federation starship Fortitude,” Ewan nodded, extending his hand in greeting. “This is my First Officer, Commander Valerie Archer.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet both of you,” the woman in the couple smiled sweetly, also shaking hands once her husband had finished. “I didn’t think it would be you, I mean, given the distance between here and the Santrag system.”
“It’s a rare trip,” Valerie acknowledged. “And you might be?”
“I’m Barbara Armstrong and this is my husband Dietrich. We’re Jason’s parents.”
ACT ONE
Captain’s Log, Stardate 51274.9;
After seemingly undertaking the trip back to Earth for nothing, Commander Archer and I are returning to the Santrag system to continue working on the Tah’Heen problem alone, with none of the assistance from Starfleet that I had hoped for. While this complicates matters somewhat, it will also slow our exploration down, giving Fortitude and her crew some time at Starbase 499 to relax.
Returning with us are Dietrich and Barbara Armstrong, the parents of my operations, who I am pleased to note, are just as charming and personable as their son.
“We’ll be arriving in the Santrag system is just over an hour,” Ewan reported to his civilian passengers, stepping into the aft compartment of the Snohomish with an open, if not exhausted, grin. “I trust that the long journey hasn’t been too uncomfortable for you?”
Both of the Armstrongs stood in acknowledgement. As non-Starfleet personnel, they weren’t entirely sure how to approach the Captain. Opting for a polite, quiet tone of voice, Dietrich pulled aside a chair at the central table and headed to the replicator to order up three fresh beverages. Handing them around, all of them resumed sitting so they could have their first proper conversation with their son’s commanding officer.
“It’s been fine,” Barbara said, starting the conversation, her long blonde hair obviously being the source of Jason’s genes in that department. “We rarely leave home, Captain Llewellyn. This is quite the adventure for us!”
“Please call me Ewan,” the Welshman said, smiling. “Rarely being…?”
“We took a holiday to Risa once,” Dietrich said, picking up his side of the conversation. He was a tall, striking man who was accustomed to physical labor. He had short brown hair receding from his sharp facial features. “We also visited Jason during his Lunar One training. The farming business doesn’t usually allow for much time off.”
“You operate a farm?,” Ewan asked him, his eyebrows arching.
“It’s been in the family for almost six generations,” Dietrich nodded.
“We’re a modern couple who run a modern farm,” Barbara instantly stepped in with a note of concern in her voice. “So many people often misrepresent the agricultural trades these days, assuming the farmers and those like us are stuck in the past… but we’re doing an essential job. That coffee that you’re enjoying… where do you think that the computer got the biochemical molecular breakdown of a coffee bean?”
“I’ve never given it much thought,” Ewan honestly replied with a chuckle. “So you never had a problem with Jason applying to Starfleet Academy?”
“I encouraged it,” Dietrich recalled, his thick Kentucky drawl almost syllable for syllable, a deeper version of Jason’s own accent, right down to the tiny personal inflections in the sentence structures. “I’m never one for stereotypes, Ewan. we get so much stick for being ‘old-fashioned’ in the 24th century. When our boy expressed interest in the stars, I went down into town and purchased every book and isolinear rod that I could find dealing with astronomy.”
“Well, I, for one, am glad that you did,” the Captain told them. “Jason is a fine young man and a fine officer. He has literally saved my life on several occasions. I’m only sorry that events haven’t been kinder to him recently.”
Barbara turned towards her husband, her worried brow on prominent display. “I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered,” but what do you mean?”
“Last year,” Ewan continued before having a chance to stop and think. “Jim Morgan?”
“Your tactical officer,” Dietrich nodded, sharing his wife’s worry. “What about him?”
“Jason didn’t tell you?”
Both of them shook their heads in negative responses. Ewan gasped, realizing what he had done and knowing full well that there was no turning back, nor was there no erasing the path that they had already started down. Slowly, embarrassed beyond comprehension, he had to tell the truth.
“Oh, my… I apologize. I thought you knew. He’s dead.”
* * * *
Emerging from the USS Snohomish with an uplifting sense of being truly home, Ewan Llewellyn stepped aboard Starbase 499 and warmly shook hands with Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore who had been waiting for them. Following him in short order, Valerie Archer embarked in the same way before Jason’s parents made their presence known. Introductions were made with the Rear Admiral being the perfect gentleman as he always was, genuine manners on display rather than the often-false ones that he wore as a diplomat and a representative of the United Federation of Planets.
Handing her bags to the duty officer on deck, she guided the Armstrongs away from the airlock, taking them to some accommodations before reuniting them with their son. Ewan’s bombshell aboard the runabout regarding Jim Morgan’s demise had left them shaken.
As soon as they had left, Blackmore’s smile disappeared. “Nice couple,” he growled, other matter preoccupying his thoughts.
“I just waded in with as much grace as a Nausicaan,” Ewan said with a sigh as they walked towards the Station Master’s Office. “Why the long face, Boxer? You’re not happy to have your poker buddy back?”
“Far from it,” Blackmore corrected him,” but I got your message. Starfleet won’t help us with the Tah’Heen case that we’re building? What absolute bullshit, Ewan! I mean that, honestly! I hope you gave them a piece of your mind because I certainly want to! Okay, fine, the Dominion threat, etcetera… but giving us nothing?!”
“I tried but they made up some crap to get me out of there quickly.”
“I suppose that's what we’re going to get with being this far out.”
“Didn’t you warn me of this at the very beginning, though?,” Llewellyn reminded his superior officer as they walked, rubbing his tired face while he talked. “I mean, this was the first time that an officer from the Santrag system or Starbase 499 had been back to Earth in, what? Well, longer than I can remember. You told me on the day that I arrived that you hadn’t spoken with Starfleet Command in years!”
“We’re a self-sufficient limb of the Federation, for sure,” Blackmore agreed with him,” but I mean that we’re not a sedition movement! We answer to Starfleet Command. We take down the rules that they pass down, and accept the starships that they send out to help us!”
Ewan got the reference and ignored it.
“Now, here we are,” the Rear Admiral continued as they entered a turbolift together and headed up through the superstructure of the starbase,” faced with an enemy putting us through the works, Ewan. They cut off your ship for nearly two months, infected our new uniforms with a virus, and crippled our technology. Who knows what will happen next? We have enough evidence to point the finger at the Tah’Heen and when we ask for intelligence and a few extra resources? No! Not right now! Come back later!”
“Well then,” the Captain stated clearly, wanting to move on from his less-than-stellar trip back to San Francisco,” I guess it’s up to us.”
“Uh-huh. Well, we’re not doing so peachy on our own,” Blackmore revealed to him. “The Tah’Heen government were unavailable for comment themselves, something about the unfair image of Tah’Heen nationals all being seen as duplicitous agents…”
“Stereotypes,” Ewan mused, repeating the current buzzword in his life.
“Yeah,” Blackmore reminded him,” except this one, in our case, is true.”
ACT TWO
He found them in Fortitude’s Mess Hall at the end of his duty shift. His parents… How long had it been? They looked well… and worried…
“Mom, Dad,” Ensign Jason Armstrong exclaimed as he caught their attention and gathered them both up into a warm embrace. “How awesome it is to see you! I can’t believe that you came all the way out here! This is incredible!”
For several seconds, Barbara and Dietrich just enjoyed the hug. Here was their son who was alive and well. As parents, that was all that mattered in the first few moments of their visit, their latest update. Then came the analysis. Barbara squeezed him just a little bit tighter, feeling to make sure that his body wasn’t wasting away and to see that he was keeping in shape while making sure to eat enough. Upon finding only toned muscle underneath his gray shoulders and gold Operations undergarment, she sighed a mother’s relief.
Dietrich finished his hug with a hearty slap on the back, watching to see if it knocked his son off-balance which it didn’t. “You’re looking well, son,” he noted with pride.
“How have you been?,” Barbara asked him. “We haven’t heard from you in over six months, Jason. I know that you’re a long way from home but…”
“Your Captain,” his father said, instantly, wanting to lay all of his cards on the table,” told us what happened last year. Why didn’t you call us?”
Jason took a step back, feeling a wave of emotion coalescing inside of him. It felt like eating bad food with a knot growing tighter in his stomach as tingling sensations of sorrow crept higher and higher, threatening to expose themselves as tears if they ever went past his neck. Fighting to keep them and himself in check, the young Ensign realized that it wasn’t ever going to stay silent. One day, he knew that he would be telling his parents about what happened to Jim… and it seemed that day was today. With his guidance, all of them moved over to a table near the panoramic window, their conversation to be dramatically framed by the radiant Class-M orb of Santrag II and the imposing industrial marvel of Starbase 499.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” he began to say slowly. “I knew if you got a letter or even a subspace call, you would think that I was cracking under the pressure or struggling emotionally and you would drop your work and come out here. The farm is a full-time job and I didn’t want anything to be ruined by you having to check up on your son. Speaking of which…”
“The farm is in safe hands,” Barbara fussed with a dismissive wave. “We were on a weekend break to San Francisco anyways and heard that your Captain was visiting. We wondered if we might bump into him. We’ve made arrangements… Oh, Jason, I’m so sorry about Jim. Really… I know how much that he meant to you.”
“How do you cope?,” his father asked him.
Jason took a deep and calming breath. The presence of his parents was supportive. He loved them, nor would he have wished for a better influence on his formative years or for better friends as he was growing up in a somewhat lonely corner of Kentucky. The emotion of remembering Jim died away, only to be quickly replaced by guilt. Why hadn’t he called them? Why hadn’t he told them about Jim’s death?
“It was tough,” he finally said, diplomatically, not wanting to go into details that would make his parents feel sad for him. “Very tough, but I… I needed to continue… to stay aboard Fortitude and to keep doing my job. I had help. Commander Archer, our First Officer… I guess you met her aboard the runabout, right? She was right there from the beginning to the end. I served at tactical for a couple of weeks afterwards as a sign of request of honoring him. I did my grieving. By the time that things calmed down enough inside of me, other events had happened. We had to protect a Senator from a pirate attack, and then the Borg came through…”
“Okay, son, okay,” Barbara said, stammering. “It’s bad enough to worry about your personal life. I don’t want to have to worry about your career too!”
“We know you’re doing good work,” Dietrich nodded. It’s been a while and we’re your parents. Being concerned is a big part of our life.”
“I understand,” Jason sympathized with them,” and I’m sorry.”
* * * *
Gabriel Brodie could be found aboard Starbase 499.
The simmering feud that was still withstanding between him and Lieutenant Arden Vuro made working on the Bridge of Fortitude distracting at best. Every time that the Bolian helmsman walked past Tactical or every time that they had to interact for duty’s sake, it slowed things down and the black man had things to be doing. While the Captain had been visiting Earth, he had been driven to the point of obsession over the schematics of the Tah’Heen vessel that they had encountered. Knowing that a confrontation would be coming their way, one day, and hoping for that day to be soon, he had devoted himself to learning all that he could learn so that the confrontation would be short and victorious.
To that end, when Ewan Llewellyn sought him out, Brodie could be found aboard Starbase 499. Hunched over a collection of PADDs in a corner of the Starbase Database library and research facility, he wasn’t expecting his commanding officer to come looking for him. It almost made him jump.
“At ease, Lieutenant Commander,” Ewan said, calming him down.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Gabe apologized to him. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Station Master Martinez tells me that you’ve been working on the Tah’Henn vessel and have been trying to find a tactical edge,” the Welshman asked of his subordinate, taking the empty seat beside him. “As you've probably heard with no doubt that my trip to Earth came up dry. So I wasn wonder how you’ve been doing?”
“Limited is the word I’d choose.”
“It’s that bad, huh?”
“Given the biological nature of the Tah’Heen who leave no trace of their existence behind, I gathered information would be scarce… but, Captain, this ship… I’m surprised that we were even able to identify it as Tah’Heen in origin. As I explored further, it turns out that the only way that we were able to make that identification was the fact that the engines were configured in a particular way. Honestly, if it wasn;t for these records here, we would be in the dark… and that scares me. It really does.”
Ewan picked up the PADD that Brodie had indicated, giving it a scan. Apparently, a Ferengi trader had filed a report after some goods were stolen in transit during a supply run in 2368 in the Denorios Belt. When the goods were recovered, there was no trace of Tah’Heen DNA, save for the same corrosive agent that Erica had found on the new uniform containers. A biological corrosive agent that made the Tah’Heen perfect for thievery and espionage. The fuzzy image that the Ferengi trader had taken matched the fuzzy image that Fortitude had taken while flying blind.
It was all a little lucky, all based on chance and fluke.
No wonder Gabriel Brodie was scared.
ACT THREE
“There we go. It’s as good as new.”
Deactivating the dermal regenerator and admiring the now-smooth skin on the back of Ensign Armstrong’s hand, Doctor Katherine Pulaski had one final tricorder scan to run, just to double-check that no infection had occurred. The young operations officer was grateful for the quick fix, not even bothering to sit down on one of the empty biobeds in Sickbay. He wasn’t planning on stopping.
“How did this happen again?,” Pulaski asked him.
“Jefferies Tube Seven-Gamma,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. “Small spaces have it in for me.”
“So it would seem,” the Chief Medical Officer noted with a friendly smile as she worked. “I noticed that your parents are visiting us and that they came back from Earth with the Captain. You shouldn’t rush your work, Ensign. If you do, all of the time that you save will be spent here with me, healing scratches, instead of with your mother and father.”
“Lesson learned,” Jason said, nodding as he returned the smile. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. How are they? Your parents?”
“Fine… well, maybe not…”
“Oh? Why the doubt, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I haven’t spoken to them in a long time, Doctor. They didn’t know about Jim, and now I’m feeling guilty. They’re probably thinking that I didn’t want to talk to them, which makes them feel redundant, I guess. We’re just a whole mess of emotions”
Pulaski completed her scan, closing her tricorder. “Why didn’t you tell them?”
“I didn’t want to worry them,” he answered sheepishly.
“No, no… not the answer that you gave them, Ensign,” the doctor denied, wagging her finger dismissively at him. “I’m asking this time. Why didn’t you tell them?”
Jason felt his head bow down, his blonde fringe falling across his forehead as he truly considered the question’s honest response. His mind went back to a collection of images from his childhood, watching them displayed like they were pages from an old photograph album. There was his first day of school and his first sporting victory, hitting the ball right out of the park. There was the first time that he had left the house for a sleepover down the road and there was the last time that he had left the house to enter Starfleet Academy. In every imager, ever-present and ever-supportive, was his parents. A tear rolled down his cheek, hitting his lips and tasting salty.
Pulaski saw it and wondered if she had pushed him too far.
“When I was ten,” Jason finally told her,” I entered into a spelling competition at my local school. I beat everybody by a mile, winning the trophy. It was the first in what would prove to be many trophies that I won for academic achievement. My mom called me her little computer, joking that I had unbeatable knowledge. When I played sports, my teams always managed to win. I graduated at the top of my class at the Academy. My exam results were always top flight, and my folks would always call me their little computer, saying how unbeatable I was, and saying how proud they were of me.”
Compassionately, Pulaski felt herself wrap an arm around Jason’s shoulders.
“Last year,” he continued, the floodgates well and truly opened now,” when Jim died, I felt vulnerable, broken… beaten. For the first time in my life, things didn’t go my way and I suddenly realized just how Human I was. I had lost… lost so much…”
“It happens to all of us,” Pulaski said in a soothing voice. “It’s part of growing up.”
“I know… but for some reason, I didn’t want my parents to know,” Jason revealed to her, finally admitting the truth that he had tried to hide from Dietrich and Barbara in the Mess Hall, admitting it to himself and to Doctor Pulaski. “Why is that, Doctor?”
She knew why.
“Because you wanted to protect them.”
* * * *
The visit was never going to last forever. Thanks to his conversation with Doctor Pulaski, Jason Armstrong found himself wishing that it would. Nevertheless, he found himself standing in Transporter Room One, before the loving gaze of his parents who were about to beam over to a waiting runabout. It was the first step for them in what would prove to be a lengthy and complicated journey home. Without a Starfleet Captain to tag along with them, the civilian routes from this extreme corner of Federation space all the way back to Earth were intertwined with a handful of different systems and outports. Neither Dietrich or Barbara Armstrong minded. They had relished the few days that they had spent with their son, despite the somber tone of the events that they had been caught up on.
“Now you be careful out there,” Barbara said, acting true to her motherly role as she brushed Jason’s hair away from his face. “We hear all sorts on the news about the Dominion and about what’s going on these days.”
“Please, Mom,” Jason squirmed, grinning all the same,” that’s the Alpha Quadrant!”
“Still, I know that there’s something hanging over all of you,” she pointed out, accurately tuned in to the mood of Fortitude and Starbase 499. “I don’t have to have a security clearance to work that one out! Promise me, Jason. Promise that you’ll keep us updated, whatever happens?”
Dietrich stepped forward, going for a handshake. Jason moved to hug his father before correcting himself but the older man had already spread his arms to return the incoming embrace. Ignoring the awkward little chase and just laughing at the moment, the two Armstrong men ended up wrapped up in each other’s arms. Separating, they kept a tight grip as they said goodbye.
“Your mother’s right, son,” noted the older Armstrong. “The unknown… it’s funny how we’re terrified of it, yet we seek it out nevertheless.”
“Contradiction is part of being Human, Dad.”
In that instance, hearing Jason speak those wise words, pride swamped Barbara’s senses. “My, how you’ve grown,” she observed with a smile.
How right she was.
Jason Armstrong made the promise asked of him, promising to tell his parents everything that happened, whether it was good news or bad. The guilt would still be there, the guilt over keeping quiet over the last year, but maybe he could change that. Silently, as he made that promise to himself, he energized the transporter and watched his folks disappear
He had grown up. It was just a shame that, in order to do so, he had to suffer.
EPILOGUE
“Jason’s parents just left,” the Captain sighed.
Taking his seat at the poker table in Rear Admiral Blackmore’s office aboard Starbase 499, Ewan stacked his chips neatly as he always did and settled himself down for an evening of the usual friendly competitive gaming. To his right, Erica Martinez and Boxer were sorting themselves out, taking twice as long as usual, thanks to the multitude of factors whizzing about their minds… or rather one factor. To his left, Katherine Pulaski handed him the deck of cards and therefore the duty of dealer.
“Were they okay?,”
“They seemed so,” Ewan told her,” and Jason was rather upbeat.”
“The good doctor worked some of her magic on the young ensign,” Blackmore revealed to him with a raised eyebrow, forcing a grin through his salt-and-pepper beard. “I’d watch it, Ewan. She could use that same black magic to take all of those chips of yours.”
“I only use it for medicinal purposes,” Pulaski swore, with her hands raised up in mock surrender.
It only took two hands of Texas Hold’Em. Both of which were ruthlessly bluffed to victory by Rear Admiral Blackmore, for the conversation began to turn severely back around to the subject that had everyone worried.
The Tah’Heen.
Was he or she planning to strike again?
That was a popular preoccupation, as was the question of when. Relaxing over a game of poker seemed to be somewhat ill-disciplined, especially with the cycle of events that had occurred so far. A virus, cutting Fortitude off from home… then what? What was coming next?
The game was cut short that evening.
All four players returned to their respective quarters early and went to bed.
Tomorrow was another day… another unknown day…
The End.
Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Three, Episode Nine - “The Computer”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
“Unbelievable! The nerve of some people!”
The Rose Garden, Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco, Earth… At that precise moment, Captain Ewan Llewellyn didn’t care where he was standing. The frustration within him was monumental and the irritation was overbearing. He didn’t want to vent it all towards Valerie Archer. She was the only one waiting outside for him.
“I take it that the meeting went well?,” she noted, her words dripping with sarcasm.
“Apparently, we’re not of fundamental importance,” Llewellyn ranted, the gray shoulders of his uniform shaking as he paced back and forth, not quite knowing what to do with himself in his current state. “The pressing matters with the Dominion has Starfleet wound up so tight that our Tah’Heen business is not a primary resource concern!”
“And that’s what had you wound up as tight as them?”
“No, it’s the carpet that they’ve got in there. Yes, of course, it is!”
Valerie was about to interject and use some choice words to stop her commanding officer from hitting warp speed without a starship when she became aware of two figures approaching them. Thanks to the sunlight, their shadows arrived before they did, giving the Fortitude’s First Officer time enough to warn Ewan. together, they turned to see a middle-aged married Human civilian couple.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man apologized,” but are you Captain Llewellyn?”
“Yes, I’m Ewan Llewellyn of the Federation starship Fortitude,” Ewan nodded, extending his hand in greeting. “This is my First Officer, Commander Valerie Archer.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet both of you,” the woman in the couple smiled sweetly, also shaking hands once her husband had finished. “I didn’t think it would be you, I mean, given the distance between here and the Santrag system.”
“It’s a rare trip,” Valerie acknowledged. “And you might be?”
“I’m Barbara Armstrong and this is my husband Dietrich. We’re Jason’s parents.”
ACT ONE
Captain’s Log, Stardate 51274.9;
After seemingly undertaking the trip back to Earth for nothing, Commander Archer and I are returning to the Santrag system to continue working on the Tah’Heen problem alone, with none of the assistance from Starfleet that I had hoped for. While this complicates matters somewhat, it will also slow our exploration down, giving Fortitude and her crew some time at Starbase 499 to relax.
Returning with us are Dietrich and Barbara Armstrong, the parents of my operations, who I am pleased to note, are just as charming and personable as their son.
“We’ll be arriving in the Santrag system is just over an hour,” Ewan reported to his civilian passengers, stepping into the aft compartment of the Snohomish with an open, if not exhausted, grin. “I trust that the long journey hasn’t been too uncomfortable for you?”
Both of the Armstrongs stood in acknowledgement. As non-Starfleet personnel, they weren’t entirely sure how to approach the Captain. Opting for a polite, quiet tone of voice, Dietrich pulled aside a chair at the central table and headed to the replicator to order up three fresh beverages. Handing them around, all of them resumed sitting so they could have their first proper conversation with their son’s commanding officer.
“It’s been fine,” Barbara said, starting the conversation, her long blonde hair obviously being the source of Jason’s genes in that department. “We rarely leave home, Captain Llewellyn. This is quite the adventure for us!”
“Please call me Ewan,” the Welshman said, smiling. “Rarely being…?”
“We took a holiday to Risa once,” Dietrich said, picking up his side of the conversation. He was a tall, striking man who was accustomed to physical labor. He had short brown hair receding from his sharp facial features. “We also visited Jason during his Lunar One training. The farming business doesn’t usually allow for much time off.”
“You operate a farm?,” Ewan asked him, his eyebrows arching.
“It’s been in the family for almost six generations,” Dietrich nodded.
“We’re a modern couple who run a modern farm,” Barbara instantly stepped in with a note of concern in her voice. “So many people often misrepresent the agricultural trades these days, assuming the farmers and those like us are stuck in the past… but we’re doing an essential job. That coffee that you’re enjoying… where do you think that the computer got the biochemical molecular breakdown of a coffee bean?”
“I’ve never given it much thought,” Ewan honestly replied with a chuckle. “So you never had a problem with Jason applying to Starfleet Academy?”
“I encouraged it,” Dietrich recalled, his thick Kentucky drawl almost syllable for syllable, a deeper version of Jason’s own accent, right down to the tiny personal inflections in the sentence structures. “I’m never one for stereotypes, Ewan. we get so much stick for being ‘old-fashioned’ in the 24th century. When our boy expressed interest in the stars, I went down into town and purchased every book and isolinear rod that I could find dealing with astronomy.”
“Well, I, for one, am glad that you did,” the Captain told them. “Jason is a fine young man and a fine officer. He has literally saved my life on several occasions. I’m only sorry that events haven’t been kinder to him recently.”
Barbara turned towards her husband, her worried brow on prominent display. “I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered,” but what do you mean?”
“Last year,” Ewan continued before having a chance to stop and think. “Jim Morgan?”
“Your tactical officer,” Dietrich nodded, sharing his wife’s worry. “What about him?”
“Jason didn’t tell you?”
Both of them shook their heads in negative responses. Ewan gasped, realizing what he had done and knowing full well that there was no turning back, nor was there no erasing the path that they had already started down. Slowly, embarrassed beyond comprehension, he had to tell the truth.
“Oh, my… I apologize. I thought you knew. He’s dead.”
* * * *
Emerging from the USS Snohomish with an uplifting sense of being truly home, Ewan Llewellyn stepped aboard Starbase 499 and warmly shook hands with Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore who had been waiting for them. Following him in short order, Valerie Archer embarked in the same way before Jason’s parents made their presence known. Introductions were made with the Rear Admiral being the perfect gentleman as he always was, genuine manners on display rather than the often-false ones that he wore as a diplomat and a representative of the United Federation of Planets.
Handing her bags to the duty officer on deck, she guided the Armstrongs away from the airlock, taking them to some accommodations before reuniting them with their son. Ewan’s bombshell aboard the runabout regarding Jim Morgan’s demise had left them shaken.
As soon as they had left, Blackmore’s smile disappeared. “Nice couple,” he growled, other matter preoccupying his thoughts.
“I just waded in with as much grace as a Nausicaan,” Ewan said with a sigh as they walked towards the Station Master’s Office. “Why the long face, Boxer? You’re not happy to have your poker buddy back?”
“Far from it,” Blackmore corrected him,” but I got your message. Starfleet won’t help us with the Tah’Heen case that we’re building? What absolute bullshit, Ewan! I mean that, honestly! I hope you gave them a piece of your mind because I certainly want to! Okay, fine, the Dominion threat, etcetera… but giving us nothing?!”
“I tried but they made up some crap to get me out of there quickly.”
“I suppose that's what we’re going to get with being this far out.”
“Didn’t you warn me of this at the very beginning, though?,” Llewellyn reminded his superior officer as they walked, rubbing his tired face while he talked. “I mean, this was the first time that an officer from the Santrag system or Starbase 499 had been back to Earth in, what? Well, longer than I can remember. You told me on the day that I arrived that you hadn’t spoken with Starfleet Command in years!”
“We’re a self-sufficient limb of the Federation, for sure,” Blackmore agreed with him,” but I mean that we’re not a sedition movement! We answer to Starfleet Command. We take down the rules that they pass down, and accept the starships that they send out to help us!”
Ewan got the reference and ignored it.
“Now, here we are,” the Rear Admiral continued as they entered a turbolift together and headed up through the superstructure of the starbase,” faced with an enemy putting us through the works, Ewan. They cut off your ship for nearly two months, infected our new uniforms with a virus, and crippled our technology. Who knows what will happen next? We have enough evidence to point the finger at the Tah’Heen and when we ask for intelligence and a few extra resources? No! Not right now! Come back later!”
“Well then,” the Captain stated clearly, wanting to move on from his less-than-stellar trip back to San Francisco,” I guess it’s up to us.”
“Uh-huh. Well, we’re not doing so peachy on our own,” Blackmore revealed to him. “The Tah’Heen government were unavailable for comment themselves, something about the unfair image of Tah’Heen nationals all being seen as duplicitous agents…”
“Stereotypes,” Ewan mused, repeating the current buzzword in his life.
“Yeah,” Blackmore reminded him,” except this one, in our case, is true.”
ACT TWO
He found them in Fortitude’s Mess Hall at the end of his duty shift. His parents… How long had it been? They looked well… and worried…
“Mom, Dad,” Ensign Jason Armstrong exclaimed as he caught their attention and gathered them both up into a warm embrace. “How awesome it is to see you! I can’t believe that you came all the way out here! This is incredible!”
For several seconds, Barbara and Dietrich just enjoyed the hug. Here was their son who was alive and well. As parents, that was all that mattered in the first few moments of their visit, their latest update. Then came the analysis. Barbara squeezed him just a little bit tighter, feeling to make sure that his body wasn’t wasting away and to see that he was keeping in shape while making sure to eat enough. Upon finding only toned muscle underneath his gray shoulders and gold Operations undergarment, she sighed a mother’s relief.
Dietrich finished his hug with a hearty slap on the back, watching to see if it knocked his son off-balance which it didn’t. “You’re looking well, son,” he noted with pride.
“How have you been?,” Barbara asked him. “We haven’t heard from you in over six months, Jason. I know that you’re a long way from home but…”
“Your Captain,” his father said, instantly, wanting to lay all of his cards on the table,” told us what happened last year. Why didn’t you call us?”
Jason took a step back, feeling a wave of emotion coalescing inside of him. It felt like eating bad food with a knot growing tighter in his stomach as tingling sensations of sorrow crept higher and higher, threatening to expose themselves as tears if they ever went past his neck. Fighting to keep them and himself in check, the young Ensign realized that it wasn’t ever going to stay silent. One day, he knew that he would be telling his parents about what happened to Jim… and it seemed that day was today. With his guidance, all of them moved over to a table near the panoramic window, their conversation to be dramatically framed by the radiant Class-M orb of Santrag II and the imposing industrial marvel of Starbase 499.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” he began to say slowly. “I knew if you got a letter or even a subspace call, you would think that I was cracking under the pressure or struggling emotionally and you would drop your work and come out here. The farm is a full-time job and I didn’t want anything to be ruined by you having to check up on your son. Speaking of which…”
“The farm is in safe hands,” Barbara fussed with a dismissive wave. “We were on a weekend break to San Francisco anyways and heard that your Captain was visiting. We wondered if we might bump into him. We’ve made arrangements… Oh, Jason, I’m so sorry about Jim. Really… I know how much that he meant to you.”
“How do you cope?,” his father asked him.
Jason took a deep and calming breath. The presence of his parents was supportive. He loved them, nor would he have wished for a better influence on his formative years or for better friends as he was growing up in a somewhat lonely corner of Kentucky. The emotion of remembering Jim died away, only to be quickly replaced by guilt. Why hadn’t he called them? Why hadn’t he told them about Jim’s death?
“It was tough,” he finally said, diplomatically, not wanting to go into details that would make his parents feel sad for him. “Very tough, but I… I needed to continue… to stay aboard Fortitude and to keep doing my job. I had help. Commander Archer, our First Officer… I guess you met her aboard the runabout, right? She was right there from the beginning to the end. I served at tactical for a couple of weeks afterwards as a sign of request of honoring him. I did my grieving. By the time that things calmed down enough inside of me, other events had happened. We had to protect a Senator from a pirate attack, and then the Borg came through…”
“Okay, son, okay,” Barbara said, stammering. “It’s bad enough to worry about your personal life. I don’t want to have to worry about your career too!”
“We know you’re doing good work,” Dietrich nodded. It’s been a while and we’re your parents. Being concerned is a big part of our life.”
“I understand,” Jason sympathized with them,” and I’m sorry.”
* * * *
Gabriel Brodie could be found aboard Starbase 499.
The simmering feud that was still withstanding between him and Lieutenant Arden Vuro made working on the Bridge of Fortitude distracting at best. Every time that the Bolian helmsman walked past Tactical or every time that they had to interact for duty’s sake, it slowed things down and the black man had things to be doing. While the Captain had been visiting Earth, he had been driven to the point of obsession over the schematics of the Tah’Heen vessel that they had encountered. Knowing that a confrontation would be coming their way, one day, and hoping for that day to be soon, he had devoted himself to learning all that he could learn so that the confrontation would be short and victorious.
To that end, when Ewan Llewellyn sought him out, Brodie could be found aboard Starbase 499. Hunched over a collection of PADDs in a corner of the Starbase Database library and research facility, he wasn’t expecting his commanding officer to come looking for him. It almost made him jump.
“At ease, Lieutenant Commander,” Ewan said, calming him down.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Gabe apologized to him. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Station Master Martinez tells me that you’ve been working on the Tah’Henn vessel and have been trying to find a tactical edge,” the Welshman asked of his subordinate, taking the empty seat beside him. “As you've probably heard with no doubt that my trip to Earth came up dry. So I wasn wonder how you’ve been doing?”
“Limited is the word I’d choose.”
“It’s that bad, huh?”
“Given the biological nature of the Tah’Heen who leave no trace of their existence behind, I gathered information would be scarce… but, Captain, this ship… I’m surprised that we were even able to identify it as Tah’Heen in origin. As I explored further, it turns out that the only way that we were able to make that identification was the fact that the engines were configured in a particular way. Honestly, if it wasn;t for these records here, we would be in the dark… and that scares me. It really does.”
Ewan picked up the PADD that Brodie had indicated, giving it a scan. Apparently, a Ferengi trader had filed a report after some goods were stolen in transit during a supply run in 2368 in the Denorios Belt. When the goods were recovered, there was no trace of Tah’Heen DNA, save for the same corrosive agent that Erica had found on the new uniform containers. A biological corrosive agent that made the Tah’Heen perfect for thievery and espionage. The fuzzy image that the Ferengi trader had taken matched the fuzzy image that Fortitude had taken while flying blind.
It was all a little lucky, all based on chance and fluke.
No wonder Gabriel Brodie was scared.
ACT THREE
“There we go. It’s as good as new.”
Deactivating the dermal regenerator and admiring the now-smooth skin on the back of Ensign Armstrong’s hand, Doctor Katherine Pulaski had one final tricorder scan to run, just to double-check that no infection had occurred. The young operations officer was grateful for the quick fix, not even bothering to sit down on one of the empty biobeds in Sickbay. He wasn’t planning on stopping.
“How did this happen again?,” Pulaski asked him.
“Jefferies Tube Seven-Gamma,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. “Small spaces have it in for me.”
“So it would seem,” the Chief Medical Officer noted with a friendly smile as she worked. “I noticed that your parents are visiting us and that they came back from Earth with the Captain. You shouldn’t rush your work, Ensign. If you do, all of the time that you save will be spent here with me, healing scratches, instead of with your mother and father.”
“Lesson learned,” Jason said, nodding as he returned the smile. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. How are they? Your parents?”
“Fine… well, maybe not…”
“Oh? Why the doubt, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I haven’t spoken to them in a long time, Doctor. They didn’t know about Jim, and now I’m feeling guilty. They’re probably thinking that I didn’t want to talk to them, which makes them feel redundant, I guess. We’re just a whole mess of emotions”
Pulaski completed her scan, closing her tricorder. “Why didn’t you tell them?”
“I didn’t want to worry them,” he answered sheepishly.
“No, no… not the answer that you gave them, Ensign,” the doctor denied, wagging her finger dismissively at him. “I’m asking this time. Why didn’t you tell them?”
Jason felt his head bow down, his blonde fringe falling across his forehead as he truly considered the question’s honest response. His mind went back to a collection of images from his childhood, watching them displayed like they were pages from an old photograph album. There was his first day of school and his first sporting victory, hitting the ball right out of the park. There was the first time that he had left the house for a sleepover down the road and there was the last time that he had left the house to enter Starfleet Academy. In every imager, ever-present and ever-supportive, was his parents. A tear rolled down his cheek, hitting his lips and tasting salty.
Pulaski saw it and wondered if she had pushed him too far.
“When I was ten,” Jason finally told her,” I entered into a spelling competition at my local school. I beat everybody by a mile, winning the trophy. It was the first in what would prove to be many trophies that I won for academic achievement. My mom called me her little computer, joking that I had unbeatable knowledge. When I played sports, my teams always managed to win. I graduated at the top of my class at the Academy. My exam results were always top flight, and my folks would always call me their little computer, saying how unbeatable I was, and saying how proud they were of me.”
Compassionately, Pulaski felt herself wrap an arm around Jason’s shoulders.
“Last year,” he continued, the floodgates well and truly opened now,” when Jim died, I felt vulnerable, broken… beaten. For the first time in my life, things didn’t go my way and I suddenly realized just how Human I was. I had lost… lost so much…”
“It happens to all of us,” Pulaski said in a soothing voice. “It’s part of growing up.”
“I know… but for some reason, I didn’t want my parents to know,” Jason revealed to her, finally admitting the truth that he had tried to hide from Dietrich and Barbara in the Mess Hall, admitting it to himself and to Doctor Pulaski. “Why is that, Doctor?”
She knew why.
“Because you wanted to protect them.”
* * * *
The visit was never going to last forever. Thanks to his conversation with Doctor Pulaski, Jason Armstrong found himself wishing that it would. Nevertheless, he found himself standing in Transporter Room One, before the loving gaze of his parents who were about to beam over to a waiting runabout. It was the first step for them in what would prove to be a lengthy and complicated journey home. Without a Starfleet Captain to tag along with them, the civilian routes from this extreme corner of Federation space all the way back to Earth were intertwined with a handful of different systems and outports. Neither Dietrich or Barbara Armstrong minded. They had relished the few days that they had spent with their son, despite the somber tone of the events that they had been caught up on.
“Now you be careful out there,” Barbara said, acting true to her motherly role as she brushed Jason’s hair away from his face. “We hear all sorts on the news about the Dominion and about what’s going on these days.”
“Please, Mom,” Jason squirmed, grinning all the same,” that’s the Alpha Quadrant!”
“Still, I know that there’s something hanging over all of you,” she pointed out, accurately tuned in to the mood of Fortitude and Starbase 499. “I don’t have to have a security clearance to work that one out! Promise me, Jason. Promise that you’ll keep us updated, whatever happens?”
Dietrich stepped forward, going for a handshake. Jason moved to hug his father before correcting himself but the older man had already spread his arms to return the incoming embrace. Ignoring the awkward little chase and just laughing at the moment, the two Armstrong men ended up wrapped up in each other’s arms. Separating, they kept a tight grip as they said goodbye.
“Your mother’s right, son,” noted the older Armstrong. “The unknown… it’s funny how we’re terrified of it, yet we seek it out nevertheless.”
“Contradiction is part of being Human, Dad.”
In that instance, hearing Jason speak those wise words, pride swamped Barbara’s senses. “My, how you’ve grown,” she observed with a smile.
How right she was.
Jason Armstrong made the promise asked of him, promising to tell his parents everything that happened, whether it was good news or bad. The guilt would still be there, the guilt over keeping quiet over the last year, but maybe he could change that. Silently, as he made that promise to himself, he energized the transporter and watched his folks disappear
He had grown up. It was just a shame that, in order to do so, he had to suffer.
EPILOGUE
“Jason’s parents just left,” the Captain sighed.
Taking his seat at the poker table in Rear Admiral Blackmore’s office aboard Starbase 499, Ewan stacked his chips neatly as he always did and settled himself down for an evening of the usual friendly competitive gaming. To his right, Erica Martinez and Boxer were sorting themselves out, taking twice as long as usual, thanks to the multitude of factors whizzing about their minds… or rather one factor. To his left, Katherine Pulaski handed him the deck of cards and therefore the duty of dealer.
“Were they okay?,”
“They seemed so,” Ewan told her,” and Jason was rather upbeat.”
“The good doctor worked some of her magic on the young ensign,” Blackmore revealed to him with a raised eyebrow, forcing a grin through his salt-and-pepper beard. “I’d watch it, Ewan. She could use that same black magic to take all of those chips of yours.”
“I only use it for medicinal purposes,” Pulaski swore, with her hands raised up in mock surrender.
It only took two hands of Texas Hold’Em. Both of which were ruthlessly bluffed to victory by Rear Admiral Blackmore, for the conversation began to turn severely back around to the subject that had everyone worried.
The Tah’Heen.
Was he or she planning to strike again?
That was a popular preoccupation, as was the question of when. Relaxing over a game of poker seemed to be somewhat ill-disciplined, especially with the cycle of events that had occurred so far. A virus, cutting Fortitude off from home… then what? What was coming next?
The game was cut short that evening.
All four players returned to their respective quarters early and went to bed.
Tomorrow was another day… another unknown day…
The End.
Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Three, Episode Ten - “Rules and Regulations”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
Something wasn’t right.
Ewan Llewellyn was stuck. It was that horrible moment, the first thing in the morning, when the mind became aware and alert, yet the body had yet to follow suit. Eyes snapping open, the Welshman saw the ceiling of his quarters bathed in the dull warm hue of the lowered lighting scheme.
Something wasn’t right. Something has woken him early as if he couldn’t hear the familiar annoyance of the computer telling him the time. That made it before 0600. Damn, what had awakened him?
Mentally cursing his limbs, Ewan tried to lift his head. It ached like it was trying to complain about the unforeseen activity, trying to protest and get his mind to shut back down again and return to the realm of peaceful sleep. He wasn’t having any of it. Instead, he focused on his right arm. Slowly and gradually, it started to move. It found the top of the sheet, pulling it away from his bare chest.
The rest of the Captain’s body followed suit. Soon he was on his feet.
Only then did he see what had awoken him.
She was standing in the living area of Ewan’s quarters, in between the coffee table and the soda. Intermittently, her outline would fluctuate. There was static in her silhouette, sparks of degrading signal strength identifying her as some kind of projection. As he grew closer, rubbing his eyes in belief at the idea of a hologram in his living room, he watched the person turn to face him. His jaw instantly dropped in shock.
This was no dream. If anything, it was a nightmare.
Ewan recognized the face of the hologram.
It was a face that had once belonged to his former Vulcan Chief Medical Officer. It was a face that he now comprehended differently as it was now assigned to the idea of corruption, espionage, and complete distrust. It belonged to a Romulan woman.
“Good morning, Captain,” Naketha’s hologram grinned at him. “Surprised to see me?”
ACT ONE
Captain’s Log, Stardate 51362.8;
Using some kind of experimental holographic communications technology, the Romulan spy known as Naketha appeared in my quarters, last night, with a proposal that I find to be both enticing and disturbing. Claiming to know valuable information about the Tah’Heen operative that we’ve been trying to uncover, she suggests a trade, the terms of which I could see myself accepting if, of course, she’s telling the truth…
“She wants what?”
“Me,” Ewan answered calmly. “She wants me.”
A stunned silence fell across the Briefing Room that was far too morbid for 0800 hours. Several members of the senior staff had been woken up before their duty shifts began. Jason Armstrong was, in particular, rubbing his tired eyes as he contemplated the rather unexpected twist in the ongoing plot of their lives. Valerie Archer simply failed to find any words to express her feelings and that was Ewan was suddenly in extreme personal danger with a target on his back. The other senior officers knew that too, realizing that their interest in a Romulan Tal Shiar agent in their Captain was hardly flattering.
Lieutenant Arden Vuro was the first person to break the tension, coming to a conclusion that he had been pondering over ever since the Tah’Heen hunt had begun. “Well,” I guess this clears her.”
“What do you mean?,” Sollik asked his friend, frowning.
“Somebody’s pulling the strings of this Tah’Heen,” the Bolian explained to him,” as we all know that they make perfect spies and agents. So somebody must be pulling the strings. I hardly think that Naketha would take such drastic action if it were her.”
“I never suspected Naketha,” Ewan admitted, nodding along with his helmsman anyways in appreciation of the logical approach, rather than getting caught up in the personal problem of the peril bestowed upon him. “The Romulan Star Empire doesn’t concern itself with third parties anyway. There is somebody behind all of them … but I can’t see how we can uncover them ourselves. If Naketha does have information…”
“You’re going to go through with it, aren’t you?,” interjected Valerie.
Llewellyn tilted his head compassionately towards his First Officer with a fixed determination, a no-nonsense stare that answered her question without the need for words. All eyes were on him with everybody getting the message just as much as Valerie did. At the other end of the Briefing Room table, Doctor Pulaski sighed, shaking her head at the impossible insanity of the situation, Jason felt himself grow slightly emotional. The Fortitude crew were beyond simple friendship at this stage. Each and every hardship had drawn them together into a family, and now the head of that family was facing dire stakes… and he was prepared to do so for the good of the others.
“Captain, you can’t hand yourself over to the Tal Shiar,” Gabriel Brodie blurted out, gesticulating wildly. “Now I know that I’m the new guy here, and I’ve never met this Naketha deep-cover agent before… but I know that there’s a personal history there, and in my experience, that always leads to complications. You won’t be coming back from this one, sir and for what? Some intelligence on the Tah’Heen?”
“What am I supposed to do, Mister Brodie?,” Ewan asked him, defending his decision. “We have no leads! Of all people, you should understand that after working all of those long hours in the Starbase 499 library! There’s nothing to go one!”
“Our search may not be succeeding,” Valerie pointed out, making a deliberate effort to keep herself calm and dispassionate despite the overwhelming swarm of butterflies in her stomach,” but at least, it had a leader. What happens when that leader sacrifices himself before the final fight? How will Fortitude be able to continue?”
“You’ll manage,” Llewellyn answered, telling it to himself more than anybody else. “I know that this is a messed-up situation, but it’s the only situation that we’ve got. I have no intention of throwing myself into the fire, just for laughs. I’ll adhere to Naketha’s rules, but at the first sign of trouble, you’re to beam me out of there and we’ll hit the road. The Romulans aren’t going to risk shooting a Starfleet Captain dead, and if there’s one thing that we know about Naketha, it’s that she likes to keep the balance of terror intact. I think… I think the risk is worth it, everyone.”
While they didn’t like it, the senior staff went along with it.
There was one thing that overrode all of their apprehension and that was trust.
They trusted the Captain and this was his call.
“Arden, there should be an uninhabited Class-M moon approximately five lightyears away on a bearing of zero-six-three, mark two-four-seven,” Ewan concluded. “Set a course and engage at Warp Five. That’s a wrap, everybody. Dismissed.”
* * * *
It was a small planetoid, insignificant and barely Class-M.
Nobody had given it a name beyond the usual interstellar classification of seemingly-random letters and numbers. It hung over a gas giant which spun itself slowly around a dying G-type system. Thanks to the twilight years of the system, the gas giant nursing it offered little sustainable help. Temperatures on the Class-M moon had dropped to readings hovering over zero. With harsh blizzards, ice caps without end, gigantic weather-worn caverns filled with snow… it was desolate.
It was also the perfect place for a secret rendezvous.
Cutting through space with the blunted spearhead of her saucer section, Fortitude lowered her warp nacelles as she dropped to impulse speeds and assumed a standard orbit over the ball of rock and ice.
On the Bridge, the mood was equally frosty.
“Naketha promised that this meeting is to be entirely amicable,” Llewellyn said, repeating facts from his conversation with the Romulan’s hologram in his quarters. “Although I don’t believe that for a second, blasting in with a security team isn’t an option. Scan for a large cave near the northern pole, Ensign.”
Jason Armstrong did as he was told and he soon found the cave. “Sensors show an empty cavern almost one mile in height and two miles in width,” he reported, impressed by the scale of the chosen space. “It’s as she said, Captain. I’m not reading any shields, dampening fields… nothing sinister. All I’m detecting is a small bio-reading. It’s Romulan.”
“My host awaits, “Ewan mused, ignoring the worry hanging over Valerie’s head.
“I’ll be keeping a lock on your combadge at all times,” Brodie spoke up from Tactical with a reassuring expression. “Tap once for regular communications with the ship, but tap it twice and you’ll initiate an emergency evacuation transport.”
“The engines will be running hot,” Vuro added, not out of the simmering hostile competition that he had with Gabriel Brodie but out of genuine concern for his Captain’s life. “We’re ready to get out of here as soon as you want, whenever you want.”
“Thank you,” the Welshman said, standing at the center of the Bridge.
He had one last look around, one last glance at his crew.
The glance towards Valerie lasted the longest.
“Time to dance with the devil…”
ACT TWO
His paymaster was anxious. It was a new experience to watch.
“Somehow, the Romulan intelligence service known as the Tal Shiar had become aware of our plans for the Santrag system and the Federation,” he was shouting through the holographic communications array, towering over the subservient Tah’Heen spy in his usual flickering, distorted silhouetted appearance. “An operative called Naketha had learned of my identity and plans to reveal this to Captain Llewellyn and his crew. She is currently undertaking a meeting with the Captain. The Romulans cannot be trusted and our plans cannot be altered. I have a new assignment for you.”
The Tah’Heen bowed his head respectfully, his frown belying his confusion. “How do you know of this?,” he asked carefully.
“I have my sources, spy,” the hologram growled in anger. “The important aspect is that we have tested and planned for an invasion of the Santrag system which incorporates the factor of Ewan Llewellyn in command of Fortitude. We must not allow the Romulans to change that by either harming him or telling him the truth.”
“What are my orders,” the Tah’Heen hissed,” and my payment?”
“Triple your usual fee to intervene in Naketha’s meeting with Captain Llewellyn.”
“Intervene?”
“There is a great risk. You may be exposed, but that is acceptable at this stage of our timetable. We have only a small number of assignments remaining before we undertake the final strike against the Federation.”
The spy knew this already, comprehending how it didn’t matter whether or not he was spotted by the Starfleet crew. Besides, according to his upcoming schedule, his vessel wouldn’t be particularly useful to him. Yes, he could manage a quick foray into space alongside Fortitude, couldn’t he? Piloting, tactical… it could all be tested and all be stretched to the limit. The Tah’Heen grinned a wicked, delicious grin. What was the point of having skills if one didn’t test them from time to time?
“Captain Llewellyn will survive his meeting,” he assured his paymaster. “Naketha will not succeed… whatever her goals may be.”
“I will contact you once I have confirmation of her failure.”
A spy versus a spy… how interesting…
* * * *
The sudden change in temperature hit him like a shuttlecraft in the face.
Stepping out of the transporter beam as the final few molecules slotted into place and rematerialized his athletic figure, Captain Llewellyn surveyed the impressive scale of his surroundings. Jason’s report hadn’t done the cavern any justice. Above the Welshman’s head, darkness consumed the immense walls of rock and ice that were looming over him from over a mile away. The only thing more breathtaking than the natural awe of the meeting’s backdrop was the cold. It was a hard, biting cold that was only made tolerable by the lack of surface wind. Ewan gazed upward once more, thankful not to see the sky, blessing his host for not choosing to meet on the surface.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Ewan turned around, recognizing the voice.
There she stood, emerging from behind a stalagmite as tall as the Eiffel Tower. She was clad entirely in black, a suspiciously wicked-looking variant of the standard Romulan dress code. Black leather gloves matched the knee-high boots… were those heels made of steel spikes? He didn't want to dwell on it. She was more important than her clothes, the reason for this meeting was more vital to the Federation.
“Naketha,” the Captain acknowledged, squaring off against her.
“Ewan,” the Tal Shiar deep-cover operative replied. “How do you like my haunt? I’ve often come here in the past two years. I did my survival training on the surface of this moon, long, long ago. It allows me to reflect, this cavern. I find solace in the endless shadows with nobody here to judge me. Do you see it, Captain?”
“Let’s get down to business,” urged Llewellyn.
“Oh, very well,” Naketha sighed, her Romulan appearance still odd to perceive for the man who thought of her as a Vulcan physician for six months. “I’m glad that you settled on my terms, Ewan. You’ll find Romulus especially impressive this time of year.”
“Not until you give me the data, I won’t.”
“How will this work, then? How do you suggest that we proceed?”
“Fortitude is in orbit. You give me the information regarding the Tah’Heen that you agreed to supply and I’ll transmit it to them. Afterward, they’re under the strictest orders to return to Starbase 499 and leave me in your capable hands. If you don’t supply that information and my crew doesn’t hear from me in then minutes, I’ve got my tactical officer on standby with a photon torpedo airstrike. So I suggest we hurry this along.”
Naketha laughed.
“Oh, Ewan,” she finally responded, her icy demeanor matching their surroundings,” you don’t seriously believe that I’ll fall for that trick? I know your crew, served with them, and I know you too. You’ll never have given that order and they’ll never follow it. No, we are quite safe here. No photon torpedoes will fall down and I’ll get what I want. After all, I always have. I managed to stop you from following me into Romulan space. I managed to arm the Santragan rebels last year, despite your best efforts... And now I’ll be taking you back to my people, victorious. You are far too trusting.”
“Given the circumstances,” Llewellyn growled, hearing a hint of Rear Admiral Blackmore in his voice and wondering if he hadn’t picked up a bad habit or two,” it wasn’t trust that brought me here but rather desperation. We need that intelligence, Naketha.”
“You need me, Ewan,” the Romulan spat back in reply. “You have no idea who is behind the Tah’Heen or who is plotting against you. You’re going to be so surprised when it happens. So shocked… betrayed… I’m almost envious of it, the mastery of their little scheme, whether it fails or not. The best part will be watching the expression on your face when you realize who it is.”
“If that’s how you want to play this, then fine. Here I am, as agreed, ready to be taken into your custody, unharmed. The information or I tap this combadge and that ceiling falls in, a second later.”
“I don’t think you’ll be tapping anything, Ewan.”
All of it happened too quickly. Footsteps approached from the gloom behind Ewan. there were heavy, loud echoes bouncing around the cavern as two burly Romulan Centurions lunged forth and seized the Captain in their muscular arms. Struggling against them, he attempted to tap his combadge in resistance to the surprise attack, missing his opportunity by a fraction of a second.
With a glee approaching madness, Naketha closed the gap in triumph. “A few biosigns suppressed,” she revealed, nodding to her Centurions. “How simple it was to ensnare you, Captain. I’ll take this if you don’t mind.”
Helpless, Ewan watched as his combadge was ripped from his chest. “Kudos, Naketha,” he retorted defiantly. “You’ve set quite the trap.”
Magnetic restraints were produced and clamped firmly around the Welshman’s wrists with the horrible sound of permanence. One of the Centurions kept a hold of his arm, leaving the other Centurion free to join Naketha as they hunched over a small device. Unbeknownst to Llewellyn, they were guiding a cloaking shuttlecraft in for a landing. It would ferry him into the heart of the Romulan Star Empire.
Ewan sighed, feeling his heart sink.
His ballsy attitude had landed him into one hell of a mess. He just hoped that Valerie would use the same bravery to clean it up.
Season Three, Episode Ten - “Rules and Regulations”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
Something wasn’t right.
Ewan Llewellyn was stuck. It was that horrible moment, the first thing in the morning, when the mind became aware and alert, yet the body had yet to follow suit. Eyes snapping open, the Welshman saw the ceiling of his quarters bathed in the dull warm hue of the lowered lighting scheme.
Something wasn’t right. Something has woken him early as if he couldn’t hear the familiar annoyance of the computer telling him the time. That made it before 0600. Damn, what had awakened him?
Mentally cursing his limbs, Ewan tried to lift his head. It ached like it was trying to complain about the unforeseen activity, trying to protest and get his mind to shut back down again and return to the realm of peaceful sleep. He wasn’t having any of it. Instead, he focused on his right arm. Slowly and gradually, it started to move. It found the top of the sheet, pulling it away from his bare chest.
The rest of the Captain’s body followed suit. Soon he was on his feet.
Only then did he see what had awoken him.
She was standing in the living area of Ewan’s quarters, in between the coffee table and the soda. Intermittently, her outline would fluctuate. There was static in her silhouette, sparks of degrading signal strength identifying her as some kind of projection. As he grew closer, rubbing his eyes in belief at the idea of a hologram in his living room, he watched the person turn to face him. His jaw instantly dropped in shock.
This was no dream. If anything, it was a nightmare.
Ewan recognized the face of the hologram.
It was a face that had once belonged to his former Vulcan Chief Medical Officer. It was a face that he now comprehended differently as it was now assigned to the idea of corruption, espionage, and complete distrust. It belonged to a Romulan woman.
“Good morning, Captain,” Naketha’s hologram grinned at him. “Surprised to see me?”
ACT ONE
Captain’s Log, Stardate 51362.8;
Using some kind of experimental holographic communications technology, the Romulan spy known as Naketha appeared in my quarters, last night, with a proposal that I find to be both enticing and disturbing. Claiming to know valuable information about the Tah’Heen operative that we’ve been trying to uncover, she suggests a trade, the terms of which I could see myself accepting if, of course, she’s telling the truth…
“She wants what?”
“Me,” Ewan answered calmly. “She wants me.”
A stunned silence fell across the Briefing Room that was far too morbid for 0800 hours. Several members of the senior staff had been woken up before their duty shifts began. Jason Armstrong was, in particular, rubbing his tired eyes as he contemplated the rather unexpected twist in the ongoing plot of their lives. Valerie Archer simply failed to find any words to express her feelings and that was Ewan was suddenly in extreme personal danger with a target on his back. The other senior officers knew that too, realizing that their interest in a Romulan Tal Shiar agent in their Captain was hardly flattering.
Lieutenant Arden Vuro was the first person to break the tension, coming to a conclusion that he had been pondering over ever since the Tah’Heen hunt had begun. “Well,” I guess this clears her.”
“What do you mean?,” Sollik asked his friend, frowning.
“Somebody’s pulling the strings of this Tah’Heen,” the Bolian explained to him,” as we all know that they make perfect spies and agents. So somebody must be pulling the strings. I hardly think that Naketha would take such drastic action if it were her.”
“I never suspected Naketha,” Ewan admitted, nodding along with his helmsman anyways in appreciation of the logical approach, rather than getting caught up in the personal problem of the peril bestowed upon him. “The Romulan Star Empire doesn’t concern itself with third parties anyway. There is somebody behind all of them … but I can’t see how we can uncover them ourselves. If Naketha does have information…”
“You’re going to go through with it, aren’t you?,” interjected Valerie.
Llewellyn tilted his head compassionately towards his First Officer with a fixed determination, a no-nonsense stare that answered her question without the need for words. All eyes were on him with everybody getting the message just as much as Valerie did. At the other end of the Briefing Room table, Doctor Pulaski sighed, shaking her head at the impossible insanity of the situation, Jason felt himself grow slightly emotional. The Fortitude crew were beyond simple friendship at this stage. Each and every hardship had drawn them together into a family, and now the head of that family was facing dire stakes… and he was prepared to do so for the good of the others.
“Captain, you can’t hand yourself over to the Tal Shiar,” Gabriel Brodie blurted out, gesticulating wildly. “Now I know that I’m the new guy here, and I’ve never met this Naketha deep-cover agent before… but I know that there’s a personal history there, and in my experience, that always leads to complications. You won’t be coming back from this one, sir and for what? Some intelligence on the Tah’Heen?”
“What am I supposed to do, Mister Brodie?,” Ewan asked him, defending his decision. “We have no leads! Of all people, you should understand that after working all of those long hours in the Starbase 499 library! There’s nothing to go one!”
“Our search may not be succeeding,” Valerie pointed out, making a deliberate effort to keep herself calm and dispassionate despite the overwhelming swarm of butterflies in her stomach,” but at least, it had a leader. What happens when that leader sacrifices himself before the final fight? How will Fortitude be able to continue?”
“You’ll manage,” Llewellyn answered, telling it to himself more than anybody else. “I know that this is a messed-up situation, but it’s the only situation that we’ve got. I have no intention of throwing myself into the fire, just for laughs. I’ll adhere to Naketha’s rules, but at the first sign of trouble, you’re to beam me out of there and we’ll hit the road. The Romulans aren’t going to risk shooting a Starfleet Captain dead, and if there’s one thing that we know about Naketha, it’s that she likes to keep the balance of terror intact. I think… I think the risk is worth it, everyone.”
While they didn’t like it, the senior staff went along with it.
There was one thing that overrode all of their apprehension and that was trust.
They trusted the Captain and this was his call.
“Arden, there should be an uninhabited Class-M moon approximately five lightyears away on a bearing of zero-six-three, mark two-four-seven,” Ewan concluded. “Set a course and engage at Warp Five. That’s a wrap, everybody. Dismissed.”
* * * *
It was a small planetoid, insignificant and barely Class-M.
Nobody had given it a name beyond the usual interstellar classification of seemingly-random letters and numbers. It hung over a gas giant which spun itself slowly around a dying G-type system. Thanks to the twilight years of the system, the gas giant nursing it offered little sustainable help. Temperatures on the Class-M moon had dropped to readings hovering over zero. With harsh blizzards, ice caps without end, gigantic weather-worn caverns filled with snow… it was desolate.
It was also the perfect place for a secret rendezvous.
Cutting through space with the blunted spearhead of her saucer section, Fortitude lowered her warp nacelles as she dropped to impulse speeds and assumed a standard orbit over the ball of rock and ice.
On the Bridge, the mood was equally frosty.
“Naketha promised that this meeting is to be entirely amicable,” Llewellyn said, repeating facts from his conversation with the Romulan’s hologram in his quarters. “Although I don’t believe that for a second, blasting in with a security team isn’t an option. Scan for a large cave near the northern pole, Ensign.”
Jason Armstrong did as he was told and he soon found the cave. “Sensors show an empty cavern almost one mile in height and two miles in width,” he reported, impressed by the scale of the chosen space. “It’s as she said, Captain. I’m not reading any shields, dampening fields… nothing sinister. All I’m detecting is a small bio-reading. It’s Romulan.”
“My host awaits, “Ewan mused, ignoring the worry hanging over Valerie’s head.
“I’ll be keeping a lock on your combadge at all times,” Brodie spoke up from Tactical with a reassuring expression. “Tap once for regular communications with the ship, but tap it twice and you’ll initiate an emergency evacuation transport.”
“The engines will be running hot,” Vuro added, not out of the simmering hostile competition that he had with Gabriel Brodie but out of genuine concern for his Captain’s life. “We’re ready to get out of here as soon as you want, whenever you want.”
“Thank you,” the Welshman said, standing at the center of the Bridge.
He had one last look around, one last glance at his crew.
The glance towards Valerie lasted the longest.
“Time to dance with the devil…”
ACT TWO
His paymaster was anxious. It was a new experience to watch.
“Somehow, the Romulan intelligence service known as the Tal Shiar had become aware of our plans for the Santrag system and the Federation,” he was shouting through the holographic communications array, towering over the subservient Tah’Heen spy in his usual flickering, distorted silhouetted appearance. “An operative called Naketha had learned of my identity and plans to reveal this to Captain Llewellyn and his crew. She is currently undertaking a meeting with the Captain. The Romulans cannot be trusted and our plans cannot be altered. I have a new assignment for you.”
The Tah’Heen bowed his head respectfully, his frown belying his confusion. “How do you know of this?,” he asked carefully.
“I have my sources, spy,” the hologram growled in anger. “The important aspect is that we have tested and planned for an invasion of the Santrag system which incorporates the factor of Ewan Llewellyn in command of Fortitude. We must not allow the Romulans to change that by either harming him or telling him the truth.”
“What are my orders,” the Tah’Heen hissed,” and my payment?”
“Triple your usual fee to intervene in Naketha’s meeting with Captain Llewellyn.”
“Intervene?”
“There is a great risk. You may be exposed, but that is acceptable at this stage of our timetable. We have only a small number of assignments remaining before we undertake the final strike against the Federation.”
The spy knew this already, comprehending how it didn’t matter whether or not he was spotted by the Starfleet crew. Besides, according to his upcoming schedule, his vessel wouldn’t be particularly useful to him. Yes, he could manage a quick foray into space alongside Fortitude, couldn’t he? Piloting, tactical… it could all be tested and all be stretched to the limit. The Tah’Heen grinned a wicked, delicious grin. What was the point of having skills if one didn’t test them from time to time?
“Captain Llewellyn will survive his meeting,” he assured his paymaster. “Naketha will not succeed… whatever her goals may be.”
“I will contact you once I have confirmation of her failure.”
A spy versus a spy… how interesting…
* * * *
The sudden change in temperature hit him like a shuttlecraft in the face.
Stepping out of the transporter beam as the final few molecules slotted into place and rematerialized his athletic figure, Captain Llewellyn surveyed the impressive scale of his surroundings. Jason’s report hadn’t done the cavern any justice. Above the Welshman’s head, darkness consumed the immense walls of rock and ice that were looming over him from over a mile away. The only thing more breathtaking than the natural awe of the meeting’s backdrop was the cold. It was a hard, biting cold that was only made tolerable by the lack of surface wind. Ewan gazed upward once more, thankful not to see the sky, blessing his host for not choosing to meet on the surface.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Ewan turned around, recognizing the voice.
There she stood, emerging from behind a stalagmite as tall as the Eiffel Tower. She was clad entirely in black, a suspiciously wicked-looking variant of the standard Romulan dress code. Black leather gloves matched the knee-high boots… were those heels made of steel spikes? He didn't want to dwell on it. She was more important than her clothes, the reason for this meeting was more vital to the Federation.
“Naketha,” the Captain acknowledged, squaring off against her.
“Ewan,” the Tal Shiar deep-cover operative replied. “How do you like my haunt? I’ve often come here in the past two years. I did my survival training on the surface of this moon, long, long ago. It allows me to reflect, this cavern. I find solace in the endless shadows with nobody here to judge me. Do you see it, Captain?”
“Let’s get down to business,” urged Llewellyn.
“Oh, very well,” Naketha sighed, her Romulan appearance still odd to perceive for the man who thought of her as a Vulcan physician for six months. “I’m glad that you settled on my terms, Ewan. You’ll find Romulus especially impressive this time of year.”
“Not until you give me the data, I won’t.”
“How will this work, then? How do you suggest that we proceed?”
“Fortitude is in orbit. You give me the information regarding the Tah’Heen that you agreed to supply and I’ll transmit it to them. Afterward, they’re under the strictest orders to return to Starbase 499 and leave me in your capable hands. If you don’t supply that information and my crew doesn’t hear from me in then minutes, I’ve got my tactical officer on standby with a photon torpedo airstrike. So I suggest we hurry this along.”
Naketha laughed.
“Oh, Ewan,” she finally responded, her icy demeanor matching their surroundings,” you don’t seriously believe that I’ll fall for that trick? I know your crew, served with them, and I know you too. You’ll never have given that order and they’ll never follow it. No, we are quite safe here. No photon torpedoes will fall down and I’ll get what I want. After all, I always have. I managed to stop you from following me into Romulan space. I managed to arm the Santragan rebels last year, despite your best efforts... And now I’ll be taking you back to my people, victorious. You are far too trusting.”
“Given the circumstances,” Llewellyn growled, hearing a hint of Rear Admiral Blackmore in his voice and wondering if he hadn’t picked up a bad habit or two,” it wasn’t trust that brought me here but rather desperation. We need that intelligence, Naketha.”
“You need me, Ewan,” the Romulan spat back in reply. “You have no idea who is behind the Tah’Heen or who is plotting against you. You’re going to be so surprised when it happens. So shocked… betrayed… I’m almost envious of it, the mastery of their little scheme, whether it fails or not. The best part will be watching the expression on your face when you realize who it is.”
“If that’s how you want to play this, then fine. Here I am, as agreed, ready to be taken into your custody, unharmed. The information or I tap this combadge and that ceiling falls in, a second later.”
“I don’t think you’ll be tapping anything, Ewan.”
All of it happened too quickly. Footsteps approached from the gloom behind Ewan. there were heavy, loud echoes bouncing around the cavern as two burly Romulan Centurions lunged forth and seized the Captain in their muscular arms. Struggling against them, he attempted to tap his combadge in resistance to the surprise attack, missing his opportunity by a fraction of a second.
With a glee approaching madness, Naketha closed the gap in triumph. “A few biosigns suppressed,” she revealed, nodding to her Centurions. “How simple it was to ensnare you, Captain. I’ll take this if you don’t mind.”
Helpless, Ewan watched as his combadge was ripped from his chest. “Kudos, Naketha,” he retorted defiantly. “You’ve set quite the trap.”
Magnetic restraints were produced and clamped firmly around the Welshman’s wrists with the horrible sound of permanence. One of the Centurions kept a hold of his arm, leaving the other Centurion free to join Naketha as they hunched over a small device. Unbeknownst to Llewellyn, they were guiding a cloaking shuttlecraft in for a landing. It would ferry him into the heart of the Romulan Star Empire.
Ewan sighed, feeling his heart sink.
His ballsy attitude had landed him into one hell of a mess. He just hoped that Valerie would use the same bravery to clean it up.
ACT THREE
“This is taking too long,” Gabriel Brodie lamented.
The Bridge was suffering from an atmosphere so rife with tension that the crew found it challenging to focus on anything but the act of waiting. Fingers drummed against consoles, eyes moved around bulkheads, and Valerie Archer threatened to wear a hole in the deck from her repeated pacing. She was the only person who had been told, in private, of course, about the Captain’s plan. It was the only time that she approved of Ewan breaking his policy of honesty with the senior staff as it was so incomprehensible was the idea of killing their own commanding officer. She knew that Brodie wouldn’t have a problem with executing the order to obliterate the cavern. He was an officer molded with an understanding of the stakes of such matters. The Romulan Star Empire could not simply be allowed to capture a Starfleet Captain for interrogation. Llewellyn knew this as well as knowing that this rendezvous was most likely a trap. Yet he still walked into it, his head held high for the good of his crew. He was trying to save his friends and to uncover a threat.
If it was at all possible, it made Valerie love him even more.
She kicked herself for not saying anything before. If he didn't return from this mission…
“Commander,” Lieutenant Vuro exclaimed from the helm,” I’m picking up a ship!”
“Romulan?,” she asked instantly.
“I’m not sure. Whoever they are, they’ve been hiding over the magnetic pole of the gas giant to mask their presence. I’m only getting intermittent readings on their position. Hold on. I’ll try and get a visual.”
When the image on the viewscreen finally changed, everybody felt their jaws drop.
It wasn’t a Romulan ship at all.
It was the Tah’Heen.
* * * *
“Our transportation awaits us,” Naketha hissed with delight.
The burly Centurion tugged at the Captain’s arm, pulling him uncooperatively through the dirt and ice on the cavern floor. Peering up from his captive position, Llewellyn could see a small path winding up one of the immense walls. It was a long and treacherous climb to the surface where Naketha obviously had a ship that she had called in on that device of hers. Maybe somewhere on that climb, the Welshman hoped, he could find a way of turning the tables on these Romulans.
Of course, none of it would do him any good without his combadge.
There it was, on the Tal Shiar agent’s belt.
If he could only…
Suddenly, Naketha froze. Holding up her gloved hand, she brought the small group to a stern halt as she tilted her lean head towards… something. Everybody looked, searching to see whatever had caught her attention. The Centurion accompanying her was quickly dispatched with a sharp flick of a finger, his disruptor unholstered from his belt and pointed out into the shadows of the stalagmites and stalactites.
What happened next shocked both Human and Romulan alike.
Ewan’s magnetic restraints deactivated.
Never someone to waste an opportunity, the Captain spun on his heel and landed a punch on the Centurion beside him. Vowing to ponder who had released him later, he continued his assault on his captor, clasping his hands together into a rudimentary club and forcing them down into the Romulan’s soldier’s stomach. Another strike to the back of the neck, exposed due to the doubled-over effect of the last attack, finished the fight. It was only then, in victory, that it dawned on him. Ewan Llewellyn, the pacifist, had beaten a Romulan.
The remaining Centurion turned, waving his disruptor towards the Captain, and threatened to fire on him. Before he could, an energy beam lashed forth from the darkness and claimed his life.
Naketha couldn’t believe it. Her plan lay in tatters. Her two bodyguards had fallen and her hands were annoyingly empty of any kind of weapon. Deciding that the unseen danger was more threatening than Ewan, she threw herself forward, lunging for the Centurion’s corpse and his discarded sidearm. Grabbing it, she fired wildly into the shadows, hoping to strike at whatever was destroying her chance to capture Ewan. After the third shot, she regretted her choice of target.
Llewellyn leaped into her with a yell, awkwardly attempting some kind of rugby tackle.
They fell to the ground together.
Naketha’s disruptor bounced from her clutches.
Quickly scrambling to his feet, the Welshman stood over the Romulan woman. He reached down, grabbing the black collar of her tunic, heaving her into a standing position so he could glare into her repugnant eyes. The sounds of an escape could be heard behind them, the angel of mercy responsible for freeing him from his restraints getting away but he didn’t seem to care. There was something more important to discover, something that he had come all of this way for… and that he was determined to get.
“The Tah’Heen,” he snapped at Naketha. “Who are they? Who is ordering them?”
“I’ll never tell you,” Naketha protested. “You know I won’t.”
“You’re putting me in an awful position,” Ewan sighed. “You see, I would hate to hit a lady.”
There was a pause and then the Captain did just that. The strike knocked her unconscious.
Picking up his combadge from her fallen form, Llewellyn stepped back. “Lucky for me, you’re no lady. Llewellyn to Fortitude, come in!”
“Archer here, Captain,” replied a welcome voice. “Are you all right?”
“Never better,” Ewan reported. “You were right. It was a trap all along. While I believe that Naketha knows about the information that we need, she won’t be taking any time soon. I’m going to leave her here. We don’t need any increased attention from Romulas, especially with our own battles to fight.”
“We may not need Naketha’s information anyways,” Valerie answered. “The Tah’Heen was here, Ewan, right here in the system. We just lost the ship but before it jumped to warp, Jason was able to take some scans of their ship. We have their shield harmonics.”
Ewan was speechless. So much overflowed in his mind, so much new information.
The cold bit into him once more, his adrenaline wearing thin. With a hand on his aching forehead, he surveyed the Romulans around him. One was shot dead, another one was beaten into submission by his own hands, and then there was Naketha. He doubted it would be the last time that he saw her… but he sincerely hoped so.
“Valerie,” he whispered into the combadge,” just get me out of here!”
EPILOGUE
Sorting through the mess of fallout from recent events, Fortitude's Captain and First Officer shared coffee late into the night. So late that it soon became early morning. The rest of the ship slept peacefully with the night shifts given nothing taxing to accomplish. Fifteen decks of slumber, dreaming of a hopeful resolution, thanks to the little morale boost delivered by a certain operations officer and a certain shield harmonic. While Valerie Archer, ever the optimist, was treating the entire incident as a victory, Ewan Llewellyn was more cautious. His feelings were mixed, his reaction conveyed with a frown and a steady tone, despite the synthetic caffeine in his veins.
“It had to have been the Tah’Heen,” Valerie pointed out to him. “I’d love to take credit for freeing you from your magnetic restraints and shooting that Centurion but we were too busy with falling over ourselves. The Tah’Heen saved your life.”
“Well, it adds another question to ask them when that day comes,” Ewan observed with a grimace. “It’s certainly a chance from trying to kiss us… but why?”
“Beats me…”
“Thanks to Jason, we’ve got their shield harmonics. They won’t stay hidden for long.”
Valerie stood up, picking up her Captain’s empty coffee cup on her way to the replicator and filling it back to the brim. Despite the hour, she had one more issue to address on her agenda. Handing the coffee cup back to him, she returned to her seat and fixed him with a quizzical stare.
“Ewan,” she began carefully,” why didn’t you capture Naketha?”
“I told you,” he replied without missing a beat. “I don’t want to endanger relations between the Romulans and the Federation right now. We’ve got our own battles to fight, not to mention that tricky Dominion business in the Alpha Quadrant.”
“Cut the bullshit.”
“Excuse me?,” the Welshman gasped, taken aback by her response.
“Come on, Ewan. I know you better than that. Yes, you’ve always been careful to stay diplomatic, but the last time that you left Naketha to go for the sake of interstellar relations, you confided in me that you thought that you had made a mistake. The rules and regulations state that you should have taken her prisoner and arrested her for her crimes. And yet, you didn’t. So I’ll ask you again, why?”
The Captain sighed deeply. Damn, she was good.
Slowly, for just a second, he opened up he wouldn’t have done so for anybody else.
“Had I gotten Naketha aboard Fortitude, away from that moon and into my custody… I feared what I might have done to her, Valerie. I really did. With all of the history between us, all of the rage inside of me… I could see it. What’s happened to me out here? What happened to the pacifist? Have I reached the stage where I could…?”
“Stop,” Valerie interjected,” that’s enough. The fact alone that you recognized this in yourself is positive proof that you’re no monster, Ewan. I understand.”
A single tear concluded the evening.
“I hope you’re right…”
The End.
“This is taking too long,” Gabriel Brodie lamented.
The Bridge was suffering from an atmosphere so rife with tension that the crew found it challenging to focus on anything but the act of waiting. Fingers drummed against consoles, eyes moved around bulkheads, and Valerie Archer threatened to wear a hole in the deck from her repeated pacing. She was the only person who had been told, in private, of course, about the Captain’s plan. It was the only time that she approved of Ewan breaking his policy of honesty with the senior staff as it was so incomprehensible was the idea of killing their own commanding officer. She knew that Brodie wouldn’t have a problem with executing the order to obliterate the cavern. He was an officer molded with an understanding of the stakes of such matters. The Romulan Star Empire could not simply be allowed to capture a Starfleet Captain for interrogation. Llewellyn knew this as well as knowing that this rendezvous was most likely a trap. Yet he still walked into it, his head held high for the good of his crew. He was trying to save his friends and to uncover a threat.
If it was at all possible, it made Valerie love him even more.
She kicked herself for not saying anything before. If he didn't return from this mission…
“Commander,” Lieutenant Vuro exclaimed from the helm,” I’m picking up a ship!”
“Romulan?,” she asked instantly.
“I’m not sure. Whoever they are, they’ve been hiding over the magnetic pole of the gas giant to mask their presence. I’m only getting intermittent readings on their position. Hold on. I’ll try and get a visual.”
When the image on the viewscreen finally changed, everybody felt their jaws drop.
It wasn’t a Romulan ship at all.
It was the Tah’Heen.
* * * *
“Our transportation awaits us,” Naketha hissed with delight.
The burly Centurion tugged at the Captain’s arm, pulling him uncooperatively through the dirt and ice on the cavern floor. Peering up from his captive position, Llewellyn could see a small path winding up one of the immense walls. It was a long and treacherous climb to the surface where Naketha obviously had a ship that she had called in on that device of hers. Maybe somewhere on that climb, the Welshman hoped, he could find a way of turning the tables on these Romulans.
Of course, none of it would do him any good without his combadge.
There it was, on the Tal Shiar agent’s belt.
If he could only…
Suddenly, Naketha froze. Holding up her gloved hand, she brought the small group to a stern halt as she tilted her lean head towards… something. Everybody looked, searching to see whatever had caught her attention. The Centurion accompanying her was quickly dispatched with a sharp flick of a finger, his disruptor unholstered from his belt and pointed out into the shadows of the stalagmites and stalactites.
What happened next shocked both Human and Romulan alike.
Ewan’s magnetic restraints deactivated.
Never someone to waste an opportunity, the Captain spun on his heel and landed a punch on the Centurion beside him. Vowing to ponder who had released him later, he continued his assault on his captor, clasping his hands together into a rudimentary club and forcing them down into the Romulan’s soldier’s stomach. Another strike to the back of the neck, exposed due to the doubled-over effect of the last attack, finished the fight. It was only then, in victory, that it dawned on him. Ewan Llewellyn, the pacifist, had beaten a Romulan.
The remaining Centurion turned, waving his disruptor towards the Captain, and threatened to fire on him. Before he could, an energy beam lashed forth from the darkness and claimed his life.
Naketha couldn’t believe it. Her plan lay in tatters. Her two bodyguards had fallen and her hands were annoyingly empty of any kind of weapon. Deciding that the unseen danger was more threatening than Ewan, she threw herself forward, lunging for the Centurion’s corpse and his discarded sidearm. Grabbing it, she fired wildly into the shadows, hoping to strike at whatever was destroying her chance to capture Ewan. After the third shot, she regretted her choice of target.
Llewellyn leaped into her with a yell, awkwardly attempting some kind of rugby tackle.
They fell to the ground together.
Naketha’s disruptor bounced from her clutches.
Quickly scrambling to his feet, the Welshman stood over the Romulan woman. He reached down, grabbing the black collar of her tunic, heaving her into a standing position so he could glare into her repugnant eyes. The sounds of an escape could be heard behind them, the angel of mercy responsible for freeing him from his restraints getting away but he didn’t seem to care. There was something more important to discover, something that he had come all of this way for… and that he was determined to get.
“The Tah’Heen,” he snapped at Naketha. “Who are they? Who is ordering them?”
“I’ll never tell you,” Naketha protested. “You know I won’t.”
“You’re putting me in an awful position,” Ewan sighed. “You see, I would hate to hit a lady.”
There was a pause and then the Captain did just that. The strike knocked her unconscious.
Picking up his combadge from her fallen form, Llewellyn stepped back. “Lucky for me, you’re no lady. Llewellyn to Fortitude, come in!”
“Archer here, Captain,” replied a welcome voice. “Are you all right?”
“Never better,” Ewan reported. “You were right. It was a trap all along. While I believe that Naketha knows about the information that we need, she won’t be taking any time soon. I’m going to leave her here. We don’t need any increased attention from Romulas, especially with our own battles to fight.”
“We may not need Naketha’s information anyways,” Valerie answered. “The Tah’Heen was here, Ewan, right here in the system. We just lost the ship but before it jumped to warp, Jason was able to take some scans of their ship. We have their shield harmonics.”
Ewan was speechless. So much overflowed in his mind, so much new information.
The cold bit into him once more, his adrenaline wearing thin. With a hand on his aching forehead, he surveyed the Romulans around him. One was shot dead, another one was beaten into submission by his own hands, and then there was Naketha. He doubted it would be the last time that he saw her… but he sincerely hoped so.
“Valerie,” he whispered into the combadge,” just get me out of here!”
EPILOGUE
Sorting through the mess of fallout from recent events, Fortitude's Captain and First Officer shared coffee late into the night. So late that it soon became early morning. The rest of the ship slept peacefully with the night shifts given nothing taxing to accomplish. Fifteen decks of slumber, dreaming of a hopeful resolution, thanks to the little morale boost delivered by a certain operations officer and a certain shield harmonic. While Valerie Archer, ever the optimist, was treating the entire incident as a victory, Ewan Llewellyn was more cautious. His feelings were mixed, his reaction conveyed with a frown and a steady tone, despite the synthetic caffeine in his veins.
“It had to have been the Tah’Heen,” Valerie pointed out to him. “I’d love to take credit for freeing you from your magnetic restraints and shooting that Centurion but we were too busy with falling over ourselves. The Tah’Heen saved your life.”
“Well, it adds another question to ask them when that day comes,” Ewan observed with a grimace. “It’s certainly a chance from trying to kiss us… but why?”
“Beats me…”
“Thanks to Jason, we’ve got their shield harmonics. They won’t stay hidden for long.”
Valerie stood up, picking up her Captain’s empty coffee cup on her way to the replicator and filling it back to the brim. Despite the hour, she had one more issue to address on her agenda. Handing the coffee cup back to him, she returned to her seat and fixed him with a quizzical stare.
“Ewan,” she began carefully,” why didn’t you capture Naketha?”
“I told you,” he replied without missing a beat. “I don’t want to endanger relations between the Romulans and the Federation right now. We’ve got our own battles to fight, not to mention that tricky Dominion business in the Alpha Quadrant.”
“Cut the bullshit.”
“Excuse me?,” the Welshman gasped, taken aback by her response.
“Come on, Ewan. I know you better than that. Yes, you’ve always been careful to stay diplomatic, but the last time that you left Naketha to go for the sake of interstellar relations, you confided in me that you thought that you had made a mistake. The rules and regulations state that you should have taken her prisoner and arrested her for her crimes. And yet, you didn’t. So I’ll ask you again, why?”
The Captain sighed deeply. Damn, she was good.
Slowly, for just a second, he opened up he wouldn’t have done so for anybody else.
“Had I gotten Naketha aboard Fortitude, away from that moon and into my custody… I feared what I might have done to her, Valerie. I really did. With all of the history between us, all of the rage inside of me… I could see it. What’s happened to me out here? What happened to the pacifist? Have I reached the stage where I could…?”
“Stop,” Valerie interjected,” that’s enough. The fact alone that you recognized this in yourself is positive proof that you’re no monster, Ewan. I understand.”
A single tear concluded the evening.
“I hope you’re right…”
The End.
Nice!
Strength, weakness, and acceptance were the orders of the day with that last story.
Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Three, Episode Eleven - “Shurvun”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
“You have done well…”
Bowing graciously before the towering silhouette of his anonymous paymaster, the diabolical grin of the Tah’Heen spy broadened. He wanted to appear grateful, for he was, especially since his last paycheck had been considerably larger. Exposing himself like that on the frozen moon had been an unusual request, a break from the tradition of causing chaos and danger for the Federation presence in the Santrag system. What made it all the most sweet was the fact that, technically, he had failed. Naketha was alive and only one Romulan Centurion had fallen. Nevertheless, here he stood, being congratulated by the hologram before him.
The Tah’Heen was dressed in a new uniform, something that he had wanted to purchase for quite some time. It was a luxury, but it was one that he could afford. It was the latest in tactical stealth body armor. His shoulders were twice as broad, passed with the lightest of duranium alloys. His chest was protected by a network of flashing devices, all of them which harmonized to create a small defensive energy shield around his precious torso. Two hip-mounted holsters now, not one, held a pair of customized energy weapons.
He felt invincible and to the untrained target, he was.
“Thank you, sir,” the spy hissed in acceptance of the praise being bestowed upon him.
“My sources confirm that Naketha had returned to Romulus in disgrace,” the paymaster went on in his usual deep tone. “There is the small matter of your appearance in such close proximity to the starship Fortitude. We cannot take the risk that your ship might have been scanned.”
“My thoughts exactly, sir,” agreed the Tah’Heen. It never hurt, to be honest.
“It was to be expected… but the next test that I have planned may very well cancel out that possible avenue of danger. Ready your ship and set a course for Starbase 499. This will be a test of their intelligence… and their ignorance.”
ACT ONE
Rear Admiral Blackmore was impressed.
Never before had he seen such a lavish banquet table. Of course, the occasion was of such importance, not just in the department of interstellar relations, but also in the terms of crew morale. So much running, rescuing… so many struggles… The latest exploits of the Federation Starfleet in this corner of space had been difficult in nature. Today was new, a fresh start, and the Rear Admiral was honored to be spearheading it.
The officers aboard the Fortitude were enjoying a well-deserved rest while the shield harmonics of the Tah’Heen vessel were being analyzed and processed by the super-powerful computers aboard Starbase 499.
Today, Blackmore was in charge.
Gazing out of the banquet room’s sweeping windows, he saw his visitors out there, hanging in the empty space between Santrag II and the bulkhead beneath where he was standing. Ewan hadn’t been lying about the impressive visuals. Blackmore sincerely believed that he had never seen a ship look so beautiful before, the highly-polished chrome of the hull plating was catching enough sunlight to make it sparkle like diamonds.
A proper First Contact… guests of honor…
The Shurvun seemed like such a nice people which made it a nice change.
Ewan had kept his word. Upon the return of Fortitude to the Santrag system after the ship’s horrid Tah’Heen-induced incapacity, he had taken great strides to make contact with another Shurvun exploratory vessel. One had been found and soon enough, the Captain was standing on their homeworld alongside Tano Jmara, the friend that he had made and the commander that he respected. The tour had been brief but not it was the Federation’s turn. Jmara was the guest of honor at this banquet.
Rear Admiral Blackmore looked forward to meeting him. A man of real principle, Ewan had called him, while at the time, it had meant a refusal of assistance for the stricken Intrepid-class starship. In retrospect, both men could only revere those principles and that strength of character. It had been hard for Tano Jmara to say no.
Yes… it was a nice chance to be true explorers, for once.
Blackmore couldn’t help but smile.
He knew that there was also more reason to celebrate. There were three chairs at the banquet table reserved for guests of honor. One of them belonged to him, the one at the head of the table. The other chair was for Jmara, and the third was for a very old friend.
It had been some time since he had seen anything by media-processed news feeds from the surface of Santrag II. The revolution from last year had changed things rather dramatically down there with the overthrow of the government and the formation of a new administration… but today, Blackmore would get to hear the truth behind all of it, and once again, embrace a colleague that he both respected and missed.
Former Prime Minister Veth Ka’Gerran was returning to Starbase 499.
The door opened with a swish, revealing Ewan’s beaming visage.
“You’re starting without us, Boxer?,” the Captain quipped, soaking in the detail of the banquet table with awe. “I thought that I would be the first one here. My, quite the spread that you’ve laid out. People might think that you were excited about this.”
“Damn straight,” Blackmore chuckled. “This is what being a Starfleet officer is all about, Ewan. “It’s not about chasing spies, not fighting for survival… Meeting new races, maintaining relationships… coming together in the name of peace… That’s why we all joined Starfleet, right? I know it’s why I did, so yeah, I’m excited.”
Ewan moved towards his seat alone under his superior officer’s watchful eye.
“No Valerie?,” the older man asked him after a pause.
“Fortitude doesn’t run itself, Boxer,” the younger man replied. “Besides, the last time that she saw a Shurvun robot, she was shooting at it. It might take her a while to get comfortable around them.”
“Well, she had better. It’s great to have a new ally out here.”
“You’re telling me,” Ewan sighed, a lopsided grin breaking out on his face. “You’re telling me…”
* * * *
Lieutenant Arden Vuro took a deep breath.
The door before him would open to reveal the Starbase 499 library suite and the access point to the Starbase Database. It would also reveal the one person that he could do without interacting with Lieutenant Commander Gabriel Brodie. Time hadn’t been kind to the hostile feelings that he harbored for the tactical officer. Over the past few months, they had shored themselves against any and all calming influences.
The Bolian had found himself waking up each morning and feeling a fraction less enthusiastic about his job. Piloting a starship was still as tremendous as always, and his friends were still pillars of support and diversion. Sollik would always listen. Jason would make him laugh daily. Even Doctor Pulaski had proven just as accomplished at healing personal injuries just as she was at healing physical ones. Yet, there was still one tiny problem so unique that it amplified itself beyond all reasonable levels and dominated his mentality.
Smug arrogance… hostility… disregard for morals… Gabriel Brodie was all of these.
At least, he was to Vuro.
Bolians had always been a passionate, and emotional people. Most of them focused that emotional energy into a single characteristic, so devoted and precise was the Bolian cerebral construct. This often led people to assume that Bolians were easy to categorize but that was the mistake. While many of them turned out to be pessimists, that was simply a reflection of their recent history. While many of them turned out to be anything but athletic, that was simply an indicator of genetics.
Vuro could point to himself as a Bolian who had smashed through both of those standard rules… and many more. He was no pessimist and he frequently outperformed his Human and Suliban friends in the Fortitude gymnasium, much to their jovial consternation. Yet, he was still a Bolian and that made him both passionate, emotional, and that meant that his previous relationship with Cadet Brodie all of those years ago was difficult to bury, hard to ignore… and impossible to overcome.
They were simply too different, and yet they still had to work alongside each other.
Duty was, after all, duty.
Entering the 499 library with determination spread across his blue visage, Vuro found the object of his unease hunched over a workstation almost immediately. At the sound of a throat being cleared, the tall black tactical officer rose to face off against the helmsman in typical macho fashion.
“Lieutenant,” Brodie acknowledged slowly, wondering what was coming.
“Sir,” Arden nodded politely through gritted teeth,” I’ve been ordered by Commander Archer to report. The Tah’Heen shield harmonics that you’ve been working on… I’m to input them into the Fortitude navigational array and to flag them as priority readings for the ease of future detection. If I could have them…?”
Silence reigned. Brown eyes narrowed and blue eyes reacted in kind.
“Okay,” Brodie finally answered. “Give me a second.”
Vuro felt his muscles tense underneath his uniform. He hoped this second wouldn’t drag the encounter out.
All he wanted to do was leave.
ACT TWO
“Oh, my… a revolution, you say?”
Tano Jmara felt his silvery jaw drop in astonishment as he listened to the dramatic tale unfold. It happened over the main course while the appetizers had been his chance to relay facts about his homeworld and the Shurvun people. Now, sitting across from him as he enjoyed what Rear Admiral Blackmore had called ‘salmon’, Veth Ka’Gerran was delving into the details of the recent political turmoil of Santrag II.
The former Prime Minister looked a good deal older than simply one year. Stress had attacked his feral hair, turning half of it gray and giving him an age appearance that was far beyond what a man of his actual mileage deserved. Weight had been lost, making his fingers slender to the point where Captain Llewelly had looked sincerely shocked when Veth had reached for a breadstick. The small ring of horns that crested his skull had become weathered and gnarled, apparently a sign of Santragan emotional distress. Nobody could react with any degree of surprise. Ka’Gerran was the last remaining echo of the old system of government in a new age for Santrag II. There were many who thought that his political life was over. Many lamented his continued public service, yet his role was essential. There was nobody else with the diplomatic savvy, or his charm, or the contacts in place. He was not the official Ambassador to the Santragan People’s Freedom Democracy, like it or not.
“Yes, I do,” Veth answered, nodding towards Tanos but sweeping his hands towards the two Starfleet officers at the table. “If it weren’t for these fine gentlemen, I doubt I would have survived it. My people are quite headstrong.”
“As are mine, Ambassador,” the Shurvun smiled knowingly. “We frequently leap before looking like the crew of Fortitude unfortunately learned.”
“That was something that I was meaning to ask you about,” Blackmore chimed in, addressing Jmara with a quick aside to his old friend first. “Apologies for interrupting, Veth, but I was fascinated by your use of robotic crew members aboard your ships, Tano. if you don’t mind, I would like to learn more about them.”
“What would you like to know?,” the Shurvun asked openly.
“Well, to what extent do you use them?”
“Put it this way, Rear Admiral,” the silver-skinned ally grinned at him. “Despite the size of my vessel out there, the Vunara, I am only one of ten Shurvun in the Santrag system. The others are my ship’s department heads. They operate their independent crews of mechanical men who aren’t opposed to, say, sealing a dangerous radiation leak or walking into an unknown situation with their eyes open.”
“It sounds like you’re describing a race of enslaved beings,” Ka’Gerran interjected with his best diplomatic tone, not a hint of offense in his observation.
Tano heard it, being used to the question from other outside observers, and he dismissed it with a short wave of his hand. “We considered that issue, Ambassador,” was his reply. “Believe me, I would be the first to object if our robots ever showed the slightest hint of sentience, but they’re not programmed for higher brain functions. They answer to the central computer cores aboard our exploratory vessels. They are not independent units and they know nothing but the simple commands that we input. The firefight instigated aboard Fortitude is proof of that.”
“How so?,” Blackmore asked with genuine fascination driving his inquiry.
“If our robots were capable of analytical thought,” Jmara went on,” then they would not have simply opened fire at the first sign of a threat. The simple algorithms that they feed off of, however, saw a weapon and pulled the trigger.”
“I see…”
* * * *
The main course was cleared away, offering the diners a breathing moment before the rich dessert promised by Rear Admiral Blackmore would be brought forward. It allowed everybody to stand, breaking off into groups for conversation.
Nursing his glass of war, Ewan slid into a comparative chat with Tano. They traded stories of exploration, both of them sharing a love of their jobs despite the darker quality of the Welshman’s current missions.
Meanwhile, Blackmore did some serious checking up on Veth Ka’Gerran. They kept a respectful distance from the other men. “Honestly,” the Rear Admiral asked the Ambassador,” are you all right?”
“I’m fine now,” Veth nodded slowly. “It was a challenge at first. We’re an entirely new race now, Boxer. Our government is a system devoid of figureheads and our people have been reborn into a society that listens to their grievances. In fact, next month sees the instigation of the major policy to finally do away with finance.”
“My God, that’s quick,” Blackmore noted. “Only a year to roll back the monetary system?”
“It was the change that they sought… and it’s no longer my problem.”
They shared a chuckle.
“Well, if you ever need anything, you let me know.”
“I shall, Boxer. As Santrag II’s official Ambassador, you’ll be dealing with me just as before. The only difference will be that decisions on my part will be brought to you within a reasonable delay. Think of me as… subspace interference.”
“Never, old friend,” Blackmore smiled from behind his beard. “Never..”
* * * *
“This is never going to end,” Brodie shouted,” until you learn to bury the past!”
“Why should I even have to bury anything?,” Arden retorted, his face glowing cobalt with visible rage. “You broke my ankle after a tirade of abuse! You make my Academy experience hell, damn you!”
The shouting match had erupted, several minutes ago. So vehement was the tension between Gabriel Brodie and his Bolian subordinate that they couldn’t even stand next to each other for more than a few moments before somebody or something snapped. On the Bridge, it was a different story with duty overriding their emotions… but here in the Starbase 499 library, there were no ranks to hide behind.
“It’s not my fault,” Brodie protested,” that I was ambitious.”
“Ambition doesn’t cause physical injury,” Vuro countered, gesturing wildly.
“In that case, it did, and I’m sorry, but that was years ago! How can you still be hung up on such an incident?! The injury wasn't lasting, and the encounter was brief… Such a small part of the Academy, the societies! How exactly did I turn the Academy into Hell?!”
Vuro paused, feeling his temperature lower. Contrary to a Human opponent, the Bolian was a creature of heat meaning calm. A dip in body warmth indicated anger, a biological warning system that told him to watch himself, remembering all of them, dragging it back up… it had been a challenge for him to relay it to his friends, but now that he was facing Gabriel Brodie, the object of his anxiety, was proving to be complicated. Balling his hands into fists, feeling his muscles tense up, he let the emotions fly.
“You ruined the one focus that I have to prove everybody wrong,” he revealed, jabbing a single finger into the chest of the black tactical officer with malice. “The Martial Arts Society had never had a Bolian member before. Right from the start, you never thought that I belonged there! You had your preconceptions! Preconceptions that I was out to shatter… and you couldn’t stand it!”
“Ah, it suddenly becomes all too clear,” Brodie rolled his eyes. “This isn’t about my ego at all. This is about yours!”
The Fortitude helmsman could have swung at him. How dare he turn this around on him!
“Fuck you, Brodie,” Vuro hissed through a locked jaw. “You cheated because you couldn’t handle the defeat. You couldn’t handle a Bolian being better than you at martial arts. Your thirst for action, your need for victory… it was all about you!”
“I’m hearing a lot of critical analysis directed at me,” Brodie responded, his own stance annoyingly relaxed in that smug way that Arden hated. “Why don’t you go look in the mirror, Lieutenant? I think your problems might be found in the reflection.”
The computer chimed for attention.
Turning around, Brodie picked up the PADD that he had been downloading to before he turned back around, hanging it in the thick atmosphere between his antagonist and himself. The move cut off any rebuttal that he had planned, it was clearly the unspoken dismissal of the tactical officer. There were a few seconds of silence before a seething Vuro snatched the PADD from his grasp, accepting defeat, but not accepting the Lieutenant Commander’s arguments.
Not a single one.
There was no way that this confrontation was about his own personal flaws. Not a chance.
“See you back on the Bridge,” Brodie concluded.
“Yes, sir,” the helmsman mumbled.
In his hands, the PADD rolled over to reveal what he had come for. The Tah’Heen shield harmonics were all here.
It was incredible timing, considering what happened next… before Arden could leave.
Lights flickered and a horrible moaning sound filled the library. It was like the sound of an injured creature recoiling in fear. It conjured up images of retreat, making both Starfleet officers dream up mental images of withering demise. Of course, they knew what it really meant. The computer terminals in the room were all losing power. Every last one of the LCARS displays faded away, the black transparent aluminum failing to show even the tiniest shred of artificial intelligence. Emergency lights took a moment to leap into action, bathing the Human and the Bolian in a red eerie glow.
In the half-light, Brodie passed his suspicious gaze over to the nearby console. It read a simple sentence that carried with it a complex meaning.
Starbase Database core memory - status: dumped. Computer memory wipe complete.
Season Three, Episode Eleven - “Shurvun”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
“You have done well…”
Bowing graciously before the towering silhouette of his anonymous paymaster, the diabolical grin of the Tah’Heen spy broadened. He wanted to appear grateful, for he was, especially since his last paycheck had been considerably larger. Exposing himself like that on the frozen moon had been an unusual request, a break from the tradition of causing chaos and danger for the Federation presence in the Santrag system. What made it all the most sweet was the fact that, technically, he had failed. Naketha was alive and only one Romulan Centurion had fallen. Nevertheless, here he stood, being congratulated by the hologram before him.
The Tah’Heen was dressed in a new uniform, something that he had wanted to purchase for quite some time. It was a luxury, but it was one that he could afford. It was the latest in tactical stealth body armor. His shoulders were twice as broad, passed with the lightest of duranium alloys. His chest was protected by a network of flashing devices, all of them which harmonized to create a small defensive energy shield around his precious torso. Two hip-mounted holsters now, not one, held a pair of customized energy weapons.
He felt invincible and to the untrained target, he was.
“Thank you, sir,” the spy hissed in acceptance of the praise being bestowed upon him.
“My sources confirm that Naketha had returned to Romulus in disgrace,” the paymaster went on in his usual deep tone. “There is the small matter of your appearance in such close proximity to the starship Fortitude. We cannot take the risk that your ship might have been scanned.”
“My thoughts exactly, sir,” agreed the Tah’Heen. It never hurt, to be honest.
“It was to be expected… but the next test that I have planned may very well cancel out that possible avenue of danger. Ready your ship and set a course for Starbase 499. This will be a test of their intelligence… and their ignorance.”
ACT ONE
Rear Admiral Blackmore was impressed.
Never before had he seen such a lavish banquet table. Of course, the occasion was of such importance, not just in the department of interstellar relations, but also in the terms of crew morale. So much running, rescuing… so many struggles… The latest exploits of the Federation Starfleet in this corner of space had been difficult in nature. Today was new, a fresh start, and the Rear Admiral was honored to be spearheading it.
The officers aboard the Fortitude were enjoying a well-deserved rest while the shield harmonics of the Tah’Heen vessel were being analyzed and processed by the super-powerful computers aboard Starbase 499.
Today, Blackmore was in charge.
Gazing out of the banquet room’s sweeping windows, he saw his visitors out there, hanging in the empty space between Santrag II and the bulkhead beneath where he was standing. Ewan hadn’t been lying about the impressive visuals. Blackmore sincerely believed that he had never seen a ship look so beautiful before, the highly-polished chrome of the hull plating was catching enough sunlight to make it sparkle like diamonds.
A proper First Contact… guests of honor…
The Shurvun seemed like such a nice people which made it a nice change.
Ewan had kept his word. Upon the return of Fortitude to the Santrag system after the ship’s horrid Tah’Heen-induced incapacity, he had taken great strides to make contact with another Shurvun exploratory vessel. One had been found and soon enough, the Captain was standing on their homeworld alongside Tano Jmara, the friend that he had made and the commander that he respected. The tour had been brief but not it was the Federation’s turn. Jmara was the guest of honor at this banquet.
Rear Admiral Blackmore looked forward to meeting him. A man of real principle, Ewan had called him, while at the time, it had meant a refusal of assistance for the stricken Intrepid-class starship. In retrospect, both men could only revere those principles and that strength of character. It had been hard for Tano Jmara to say no.
Yes… it was a nice chance to be true explorers, for once.
Blackmore couldn’t help but smile.
He knew that there was also more reason to celebrate. There were three chairs at the banquet table reserved for guests of honor. One of them belonged to him, the one at the head of the table. The other chair was for Jmara, and the third was for a very old friend.
It had been some time since he had seen anything by media-processed news feeds from the surface of Santrag II. The revolution from last year had changed things rather dramatically down there with the overthrow of the government and the formation of a new administration… but today, Blackmore would get to hear the truth behind all of it, and once again, embrace a colleague that he both respected and missed.
Former Prime Minister Veth Ka’Gerran was returning to Starbase 499.
The door opened with a swish, revealing Ewan’s beaming visage.
“You’re starting without us, Boxer?,” the Captain quipped, soaking in the detail of the banquet table with awe. “I thought that I would be the first one here. My, quite the spread that you’ve laid out. People might think that you were excited about this.”
“Damn straight,” Blackmore chuckled. “This is what being a Starfleet officer is all about, Ewan. “It’s not about chasing spies, not fighting for survival… Meeting new races, maintaining relationships… coming together in the name of peace… That’s why we all joined Starfleet, right? I know it’s why I did, so yeah, I’m excited.”
Ewan moved towards his seat alone under his superior officer’s watchful eye.
“No Valerie?,” the older man asked him after a pause.
“Fortitude doesn’t run itself, Boxer,” the younger man replied. “Besides, the last time that she saw a Shurvun robot, she was shooting at it. It might take her a while to get comfortable around them.”
“Well, she had better. It’s great to have a new ally out here.”
“You’re telling me,” Ewan sighed, a lopsided grin breaking out on his face. “You’re telling me…”
* * * *
Lieutenant Arden Vuro took a deep breath.
The door before him would open to reveal the Starbase 499 library suite and the access point to the Starbase Database. It would also reveal the one person that he could do without interacting with Lieutenant Commander Gabriel Brodie. Time hadn’t been kind to the hostile feelings that he harbored for the tactical officer. Over the past few months, they had shored themselves against any and all calming influences.
The Bolian had found himself waking up each morning and feeling a fraction less enthusiastic about his job. Piloting a starship was still as tremendous as always, and his friends were still pillars of support and diversion. Sollik would always listen. Jason would make him laugh daily. Even Doctor Pulaski had proven just as accomplished at healing personal injuries just as she was at healing physical ones. Yet, there was still one tiny problem so unique that it amplified itself beyond all reasonable levels and dominated his mentality.
Smug arrogance… hostility… disregard for morals… Gabriel Brodie was all of these.
At least, he was to Vuro.
Bolians had always been a passionate, and emotional people. Most of them focused that emotional energy into a single characteristic, so devoted and precise was the Bolian cerebral construct. This often led people to assume that Bolians were easy to categorize but that was the mistake. While many of them turned out to be pessimists, that was simply a reflection of their recent history. While many of them turned out to be anything but athletic, that was simply an indicator of genetics.
Vuro could point to himself as a Bolian who had smashed through both of those standard rules… and many more. He was no pessimist and he frequently outperformed his Human and Suliban friends in the Fortitude gymnasium, much to their jovial consternation. Yet, he was still a Bolian and that made him both passionate, emotional, and that meant that his previous relationship with Cadet Brodie all of those years ago was difficult to bury, hard to ignore… and impossible to overcome.
They were simply too different, and yet they still had to work alongside each other.
Duty was, after all, duty.
Entering the 499 library with determination spread across his blue visage, Vuro found the object of his unease hunched over a workstation almost immediately. At the sound of a throat being cleared, the tall black tactical officer rose to face off against the helmsman in typical macho fashion.
“Lieutenant,” Brodie acknowledged slowly, wondering what was coming.
“Sir,” Arden nodded politely through gritted teeth,” I’ve been ordered by Commander Archer to report. The Tah’Heen shield harmonics that you’ve been working on… I’m to input them into the Fortitude navigational array and to flag them as priority readings for the ease of future detection. If I could have them…?”
Silence reigned. Brown eyes narrowed and blue eyes reacted in kind.
“Okay,” Brodie finally answered. “Give me a second.”
Vuro felt his muscles tense underneath his uniform. He hoped this second wouldn’t drag the encounter out.
All he wanted to do was leave.
ACT TWO
“Oh, my… a revolution, you say?”
Tano Jmara felt his silvery jaw drop in astonishment as he listened to the dramatic tale unfold. It happened over the main course while the appetizers had been his chance to relay facts about his homeworld and the Shurvun people. Now, sitting across from him as he enjoyed what Rear Admiral Blackmore had called ‘salmon’, Veth Ka’Gerran was delving into the details of the recent political turmoil of Santrag II.
The former Prime Minister looked a good deal older than simply one year. Stress had attacked his feral hair, turning half of it gray and giving him an age appearance that was far beyond what a man of his actual mileage deserved. Weight had been lost, making his fingers slender to the point where Captain Llewelly had looked sincerely shocked when Veth had reached for a breadstick. The small ring of horns that crested his skull had become weathered and gnarled, apparently a sign of Santragan emotional distress. Nobody could react with any degree of surprise. Ka’Gerran was the last remaining echo of the old system of government in a new age for Santrag II. There were many who thought that his political life was over. Many lamented his continued public service, yet his role was essential. There was nobody else with the diplomatic savvy, or his charm, or the contacts in place. He was not the official Ambassador to the Santragan People’s Freedom Democracy, like it or not.
“Yes, I do,” Veth answered, nodding towards Tanos but sweeping his hands towards the two Starfleet officers at the table. “If it weren’t for these fine gentlemen, I doubt I would have survived it. My people are quite headstrong.”
“As are mine, Ambassador,” the Shurvun smiled knowingly. “We frequently leap before looking like the crew of Fortitude unfortunately learned.”
“That was something that I was meaning to ask you about,” Blackmore chimed in, addressing Jmara with a quick aside to his old friend first. “Apologies for interrupting, Veth, but I was fascinated by your use of robotic crew members aboard your ships, Tano. if you don’t mind, I would like to learn more about them.”
“What would you like to know?,” the Shurvun asked openly.
“Well, to what extent do you use them?”
“Put it this way, Rear Admiral,” the silver-skinned ally grinned at him. “Despite the size of my vessel out there, the Vunara, I am only one of ten Shurvun in the Santrag system. The others are my ship’s department heads. They operate their independent crews of mechanical men who aren’t opposed to, say, sealing a dangerous radiation leak or walking into an unknown situation with their eyes open.”
“It sounds like you’re describing a race of enslaved beings,” Ka’Gerran interjected with his best diplomatic tone, not a hint of offense in his observation.
Tano heard it, being used to the question from other outside observers, and he dismissed it with a short wave of his hand. “We considered that issue, Ambassador,” was his reply. “Believe me, I would be the first to object if our robots ever showed the slightest hint of sentience, but they’re not programmed for higher brain functions. They answer to the central computer cores aboard our exploratory vessels. They are not independent units and they know nothing but the simple commands that we input. The firefight instigated aboard Fortitude is proof of that.”
“How so?,” Blackmore asked with genuine fascination driving his inquiry.
“If our robots were capable of analytical thought,” Jmara went on,” then they would not have simply opened fire at the first sign of a threat. The simple algorithms that they feed off of, however, saw a weapon and pulled the trigger.”
“I see…”
* * * *
The main course was cleared away, offering the diners a breathing moment before the rich dessert promised by Rear Admiral Blackmore would be brought forward. It allowed everybody to stand, breaking off into groups for conversation.
Nursing his glass of war, Ewan slid into a comparative chat with Tano. They traded stories of exploration, both of them sharing a love of their jobs despite the darker quality of the Welshman’s current missions.
Meanwhile, Blackmore did some serious checking up on Veth Ka’Gerran. They kept a respectful distance from the other men. “Honestly,” the Rear Admiral asked the Ambassador,” are you all right?”
“I’m fine now,” Veth nodded slowly. “It was a challenge at first. We’re an entirely new race now, Boxer. Our government is a system devoid of figureheads and our people have been reborn into a society that listens to their grievances. In fact, next month sees the instigation of the major policy to finally do away with finance.”
“My God, that’s quick,” Blackmore noted. “Only a year to roll back the monetary system?”
“It was the change that they sought… and it’s no longer my problem.”
They shared a chuckle.
“Well, if you ever need anything, you let me know.”
“I shall, Boxer. As Santrag II’s official Ambassador, you’ll be dealing with me just as before. The only difference will be that decisions on my part will be brought to you within a reasonable delay. Think of me as… subspace interference.”
“Never, old friend,” Blackmore smiled from behind his beard. “Never..”
* * * *
“This is never going to end,” Brodie shouted,” until you learn to bury the past!”
“Why should I even have to bury anything?,” Arden retorted, his face glowing cobalt with visible rage. “You broke my ankle after a tirade of abuse! You make my Academy experience hell, damn you!”
The shouting match had erupted, several minutes ago. So vehement was the tension between Gabriel Brodie and his Bolian subordinate that they couldn’t even stand next to each other for more than a few moments before somebody or something snapped. On the Bridge, it was a different story with duty overriding their emotions… but here in the Starbase 499 library, there were no ranks to hide behind.
“It’s not my fault,” Brodie protested,” that I was ambitious.”
“Ambition doesn’t cause physical injury,” Vuro countered, gesturing wildly.
“In that case, it did, and I’m sorry, but that was years ago! How can you still be hung up on such an incident?! The injury wasn't lasting, and the encounter was brief… Such a small part of the Academy, the societies! How exactly did I turn the Academy into Hell?!”
Vuro paused, feeling his temperature lower. Contrary to a Human opponent, the Bolian was a creature of heat meaning calm. A dip in body warmth indicated anger, a biological warning system that told him to watch himself, remembering all of them, dragging it back up… it had been a challenge for him to relay it to his friends, but now that he was facing Gabriel Brodie, the object of his anxiety, was proving to be complicated. Balling his hands into fists, feeling his muscles tense up, he let the emotions fly.
“You ruined the one focus that I have to prove everybody wrong,” he revealed, jabbing a single finger into the chest of the black tactical officer with malice. “The Martial Arts Society had never had a Bolian member before. Right from the start, you never thought that I belonged there! You had your preconceptions! Preconceptions that I was out to shatter… and you couldn’t stand it!”
“Ah, it suddenly becomes all too clear,” Brodie rolled his eyes. “This isn’t about my ego at all. This is about yours!”
The Fortitude helmsman could have swung at him. How dare he turn this around on him!
“Fuck you, Brodie,” Vuro hissed through a locked jaw. “You cheated because you couldn’t handle the defeat. You couldn’t handle a Bolian being better than you at martial arts. Your thirst for action, your need for victory… it was all about you!”
“I’m hearing a lot of critical analysis directed at me,” Brodie responded, his own stance annoyingly relaxed in that smug way that Arden hated. “Why don’t you go look in the mirror, Lieutenant? I think your problems might be found in the reflection.”
The computer chimed for attention.
Turning around, Brodie picked up the PADD that he had been downloading to before he turned back around, hanging it in the thick atmosphere between his antagonist and himself. The move cut off any rebuttal that he had planned, it was clearly the unspoken dismissal of the tactical officer. There were a few seconds of silence before a seething Vuro snatched the PADD from his grasp, accepting defeat, but not accepting the Lieutenant Commander’s arguments.
Not a single one.
There was no way that this confrontation was about his own personal flaws. Not a chance.
“See you back on the Bridge,” Brodie concluded.
“Yes, sir,” the helmsman mumbled.
In his hands, the PADD rolled over to reveal what he had come for. The Tah’Heen shield harmonics were all here.
It was incredible timing, considering what happened next… before Arden could leave.
Lights flickered and a horrible moaning sound filled the library. It was like the sound of an injured creature recoiling in fear. It conjured up images of retreat, making both Starfleet officers dream up mental images of withering demise. Of course, they knew what it really meant. The computer terminals in the room were all losing power. Every last one of the LCARS displays faded away, the black transparent aluminum failing to show even the tiniest shred of artificial intelligence. Emergency lights took a moment to leap into action, bathing the Human and the Bolian in a red eerie glow.
In the half-light, Brodie passed his suspicious gaze over to the nearby console. It read a simple sentence that carried with it a complex meaning.
Starbase Database core memory - status: dumped. Computer memory wipe complete.
ACT THREE
Captain’s Log, Stardate 51384.7;
The pleasant banquet that was playing host to the beginning of a new diplomatic relationship with Tano Jmara and the Shurvun had been cut unceremoniously short by a worrying report from Lieutenant Commander Brodie. Catastrophically, the entire Starbase Database of Starbase 499 has been wiped clean. All of the residual backup memory cores have also been dumped. The entire system has reverted back to its factory settings and everything is simply… gone. For such a ruthless incident, I can only find one suspect in this crucial time… the Tah’Heen…
The Bridge was ablaze with activity.
Over on Starbase 499, the action was just as frantic. As Erica Martinez was rallying her troops and set to the task of trying to recover the last database, Llewellyn had returned to Fortitude to investigate the task of determining exactly what had happened. Gabriel Brodie and Arden Vuro were back at their stations, their verbal accounts swirling around in the Captain’s mind while he discussed possible outcomes with Valerie Archer. Behind them, Jason Armstrong was almost punching at his operations console before it yielded a small cry of success, moments later. All reactions turned on him.
“I’ve got it, Captain,” the young ensign told them, pointing towards the main viewscreen. “A high-level polaron beam focused to the frequency of 499’s main power grid. Whoever did this wanted it to look like an accidental power surge. I’m tracing the beam.”
The viewscreen morphed as Jason worked on the problem.
At first, the main viewer showed a tactical display of the local spatial grid. There was Fortitude, a yellow wire-frame representation floating alongside the much larger Starbase 499, and the impressive green wire-frame of the Shurvun exploratory vessel Vunara. Santrag II held all of them as the viewscreen zoomed out, a thin red line tracing away from the system and out into the empty grids of space.
Everybody knew that it was the polaron beam and they watched as it weaved in and out of the neighborhood’s features. Eventually, it came to rest, a pulsing red dot hanging over the gray wire-frame representation of Santrag IV. it was a dead moon, much like Earth’s only natural satellite, Luna. Hanging above it was a collection of numbers.
“Identify the source, Ensign,” Ewan ordered immediately.
“Checking… Whoever it was, they’re long gone, but I’ve got a residual sensor echo from their ship. If we only still had the Tah’Heen shield harmonics from the Starbase Database, I could put us all out of our misery.”
“But we do,” Vuro blurted out from the helm excitedly. “My PADD! Here, catch!”
Standing, the Bolian took a hold of the PADD given to him by Brodie in the 499 library and threw it across the Bridge, narrowing missing Archer’s head and shooting her an apologetic glance. Jason caught it perfectly, placing it alongside his monitor screen and accessing both sets of numbers simultaneously.
It only took a few seconds.
“Confirmed, Captain,” the Kentuckian nodded gravely. “It’s them.”
* * * *
“Another attack,” Tano sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“We’re getting used to it,” Rear Admiral Blackmore snarled without the pretense of diplomacy holding him back. The Shurvun before him understood completely, nodding along with the emotions that were on clear display. “This is the fourth incident of the Tah’Heen meddling in our affairs. You’ll forgive my frustration, Tano, but the more that this happens, the fewer answers that we seem to gain.”
“I understand entirely,” the silver-skinned guest dismissed. “No need for apologies, sir. The entire database, you say?”
“Gone forever,” Blackmore nodded. “Nothing left.”
“You will be spending a lot of time relearning what you have learned, I can imagine. Is there anything I can do to help, my new friend? Some star charts, perhaps? Or maybe the sensor data from the Vunara’s travels?”
Blackmore tilted his head sideways, inquisitive narrowing his eyes. “I thought you were prohibited from sharing such things?”
“We are,” Jmara pointed out, with kindness in every syllable,” from unknown species. Sir, I have spent a great deal of time with Captain Llewellyn and the crew of the USS Fortitude. Now I am leaving the company of their superior officer, and I find him to be just as generous, caring, and compassionate as those that he sends out to explore. My canon of laws prevented me from helping you before, and I don’t intend to let them do so again. It was your Santragan friend, Veth Ka’Gerran, who showed me your ability to bend the rules slights when it means the protection of the innocent and defending relationships. He is a lucky man to have you as an ally. So here I stand, offering you my hand in permanent friendship, willing to bend the rules slightly in order to give that friendship a good start.”
The Rear Admiral was taken aback by this outpouring of friendship and support.
It was rare for him to be surprised at his age and it was rare to discover something new that the Galaxy could show him, standing here in the form of Tano Jmara. The Shurvun with a vessel of such technical advancement, a crew of machines, and such empathy in his heart. He was a man who even surpassed Humanity’s generosity of spirit.
Blackmore looked down to see a silvery hand outstretched towards him. It was a hand that he gladly shook.
“Ewan was right about you,” he observed. “You are a true gentleman.”
“I’ll have our star charts transmitted to you as soon as I am back aboard the Vunara.”
“Thank you… oh, and one other thing.”
Tano paused, taking his turn to tilt his head inquisitive.
“Call me Boxer,” Blackmore smiled. “All of my friends do, and you certainly qualify.”
“If you insist,” the Shurvun said, returning the smile,” Boxer.”
EPILOGUE
Sollik caught up with the Captain in the corridors of Fortitude.
“You wanted to see me, sir?,” he called out to him.
“Ah, yes,” Llewellyn remembered with his mind stacked with so much information these days that it was an effort to even recall why he was powering through the ship at such an incredible pace. “Where have you just come from?”
“Starbase 499,” answered the Suliban. “We were uploading the Shurvun star charts and sensor logs into the empty computer core. They’ve seen some amazing things, sir. If we ever return to exploration, you’re going to be spoiling for a choice about where to go first… with all due respect, of course.”
“When we return to exploration, Sollik,” Ewan reminded him. “Not if.”
“Of course, Captain.”
They walked around a corner, arriving outside the transporter room just as Ewan remembered where he was going. He paused before entering the room, shaking his head slightly as he considered the breakneck velocity that events were moving at. Every new day brought a new challenge and a new facet to the ongoing crisis. Still, there were aspects to be grateful for…
“Thank goodness that Tano was here,” observed the Welshman.
“Indeed,” Sollik agreed with him. “It’s a nice change of pace to meet someone kind for once.”
“Be available over the next few days, Sollik,” Llewellyn warned his chief engineer. “I’ve got a few things floating around that I need to speak with you about. Some technical solutions that I need to put into place as quickly as possible.”
The chief engineer frowned at him. This was unusual, to say the least. Very unorthodox. “Care to divulge any specifics, Captain?”
“No, and keep it to yourself.”
“Aye, sir.”
On that cryptic note, the two men parted ways.
The End.
Captain’s Log, Stardate 51384.7;
The pleasant banquet that was playing host to the beginning of a new diplomatic relationship with Tano Jmara and the Shurvun had been cut unceremoniously short by a worrying report from Lieutenant Commander Brodie. Catastrophically, the entire Starbase Database of Starbase 499 has been wiped clean. All of the residual backup memory cores have also been dumped. The entire system has reverted back to its factory settings and everything is simply… gone. For such a ruthless incident, I can only find one suspect in this crucial time… the Tah’Heen…
The Bridge was ablaze with activity.
Over on Starbase 499, the action was just as frantic. As Erica Martinez was rallying her troops and set to the task of trying to recover the last database, Llewellyn had returned to Fortitude to investigate the task of determining exactly what had happened. Gabriel Brodie and Arden Vuro were back at their stations, their verbal accounts swirling around in the Captain’s mind while he discussed possible outcomes with Valerie Archer. Behind them, Jason Armstrong was almost punching at his operations console before it yielded a small cry of success, moments later. All reactions turned on him.
“I’ve got it, Captain,” the young ensign told them, pointing towards the main viewscreen. “A high-level polaron beam focused to the frequency of 499’s main power grid. Whoever did this wanted it to look like an accidental power surge. I’m tracing the beam.”
The viewscreen morphed as Jason worked on the problem.
At first, the main viewer showed a tactical display of the local spatial grid. There was Fortitude, a yellow wire-frame representation floating alongside the much larger Starbase 499, and the impressive green wire-frame of the Shurvun exploratory vessel Vunara. Santrag II held all of them as the viewscreen zoomed out, a thin red line tracing away from the system and out into the empty grids of space.
Everybody knew that it was the polaron beam and they watched as it weaved in and out of the neighborhood’s features. Eventually, it came to rest, a pulsing red dot hanging over the gray wire-frame representation of Santrag IV. it was a dead moon, much like Earth’s only natural satellite, Luna. Hanging above it was a collection of numbers.
“Identify the source, Ensign,” Ewan ordered immediately.
“Checking… Whoever it was, they’re long gone, but I’ve got a residual sensor echo from their ship. If we only still had the Tah’Heen shield harmonics from the Starbase Database, I could put us all out of our misery.”
“But we do,” Vuro blurted out from the helm excitedly. “My PADD! Here, catch!”
Standing, the Bolian took a hold of the PADD given to him by Brodie in the 499 library and threw it across the Bridge, narrowing missing Archer’s head and shooting her an apologetic glance. Jason caught it perfectly, placing it alongside his monitor screen and accessing both sets of numbers simultaneously.
It only took a few seconds.
“Confirmed, Captain,” the Kentuckian nodded gravely. “It’s them.”
* * * *
“Another attack,” Tano sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“We’re getting used to it,” Rear Admiral Blackmore snarled without the pretense of diplomacy holding him back. The Shurvun before him understood completely, nodding along with the emotions that were on clear display. “This is the fourth incident of the Tah’Heen meddling in our affairs. You’ll forgive my frustration, Tano, but the more that this happens, the fewer answers that we seem to gain.”
“I understand entirely,” the silver-skinned guest dismissed. “No need for apologies, sir. The entire database, you say?”
“Gone forever,” Blackmore nodded. “Nothing left.”
“You will be spending a lot of time relearning what you have learned, I can imagine. Is there anything I can do to help, my new friend? Some star charts, perhaps? Or maybe the sensor data from the Vunara’s travels?”
Blackmore tilted his head sideways, inquisitive narrowing his eyes. “I thought you were prohibited from sharing such things?”
“We are,” Jmara pointed out, with kindness in every syllable,” from unknown species. Sir, I have spent a great deal of time with Captain Llewellyn and the crew of the USS Fortitude. Now I am leaving the company of their superior officer, and I find him to be just as generous, caring, and compassionate as those that he sends out to explore. My canon of laws prevented me from helping you before, and I don’t intend to let them do so again. It was your Santragan friend, Veth Ka’Gerran, who showed me your ability to bend the rules slights when it means the protection of the innocent and defending relationships. He is a lucky man to have you as an ally. So here I stand, offering you my hand in permanent friendship, willing to bend the rules slightly in order to give that friendship a good start.”
The Rear Admiral was taken aback by this outpouring of friendship and support.
It was rare for him to be surprised at his age and it was rare to discover something new that the Galaxy could show him, standing here in the form of Tano Jmara. The Shurvun with a vessel of such technical advancement, a crew of machines, and such empathy in his heart. He was a man who even surpassed Humanity’s generosity of spirit.
Blackmore looked down to see a silvery hand outstretched towards him. It was a hand that he gladly shook.
“Ewan was right about you,” he observed. “You are a true gentleman.”
“I’ll have our star charts transmitted to you as soon as I am back aboard the Vunara.”
“Thank you… oh, and one other thing.”
Tano paused, taking his turn to tilt his head inquisitive.
“Call me Boxer,” Blackmore smiled. “All of my friends do, and you certainly qualify.”
“If you insist,” the Shurvun said, returning the smile,” Boxer.”
EPILOGUE
Sollik caught up with the Captain in the corridors of Fortitude.
“You wanted to see me, sir?,” he called out to him.
“Ah, yes,” Llewellyn remembered with his mind stacked with so much information these days that it was an effort to even recall why he was powering through the ship at such an incredible pace. “Where have you just come from?”
“Starbase 499,” answered the Suliban. “We were uploading the Shurvun star charts and sensor logs into the empty computer core. They’ve seen some amazing things, sir. If we ever return to exploration, you’re going to be spoiling for a choice about where to go first… with all due respect, of course.”
“When we return to exploration, Sollik,” Ewan reminded him. “Not if.”
“Of course, Captain.”
They walked around a corner, arriving outside the transporter room just as Ewan remembered where he was going. He paused before entering the room, shaking his head slightly as he considered the breakneck velocity that events were moving at. Every new day brought a new challenge and a new facet to the ongoing crisis. Still, there were aspects to be grateful for…
“Thank goodness that Tano was here,” observed the Welshman.
“Indeed,” Sollik agreed with him. “It’s a nice change of pace to meet someone kind for once.”
“Be available over the next few days, Sollik,” Llewellyn warned his chief engineer. “I’ve got a few things floating around that I need to speak with you about. Some technical solutions that I need to put into place as quickly as possible.”
The chief engineer frowned at him. This was unusual, to say the least. Very unorthodox. “Care to divulge any specifics, Captain?”
“No, and keep it to yourself.”
“Aye, sir.”
On that cryptic note, the two men parted ways.
The End.
I think I'm in the zone.
Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Three, Episode Twelve - “Directive”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
The morning had started like any other day.
Breakfast consisted of the usual buttered toast and coffee that was rushed through while he donned his red turtleneck undergarment. By the time that he was zipping up his gray-shouldered Starfleet uniform jacket, the plate and cup were empty. His medium-length dark hair only took a moment to fix, brushed away from his eyes as he simultaneously slid into his polished black boots. The standard morning routine was complete in less than ten minutes. Not his personal best, but it was still admirable.
“Captain to Sollik,” Ewan Llewellyn called out after tapping his combadge.
“Sollik here, sir,” replied the Chief Engineer.
“Drop what you’re doing and report to my quarters,” came the order, though it was said without the malice that the words implied. “See you in a moment.”
“Understood, Captain. I’m on my way.”
Sollik arrived quicker than he expected. Showing the Suliban in and offering him a politely-declined cup of coffee, Ewan sat down on his comfortable sofa and let out a small sigh, rubbing his temples with worry. He was about to ask for a favor that he didn’t enjoy contemplating, but there was something in his gut that told him that it was necessary.
The latest Tah’Heen attack kept playing over in his mind. The Starbase Database had been wiped clean while he and Rear Admiral Blackmore had been playing host at a peaceful banquet. The thoughts that he had been having were unsettling. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.
“Do you remember when I asked you to be available over the next couple of days?,” Llewellyn reminded his chief engineer in a low tone. “I have a few things to discuss with you, and a few orders that I wanted to be implemented on the quiet…?”
Sollik frowned with his green scales folding in confusion. “Captain?”
“You know,” the Welshman pressed on,” outside the transporter room.”
“No, sir,” came the honest reply. “I don’t.”
This was odd. Sollik wasn’t something who played games. Was the stress finally getting to Ewan?
“Come on, Commander,” he repeated. “You do remember, don’t you?”
“Like I just said, Captain, I really don’t.”
“Next, you’ll be telling me that the Tah’Heen wiped your memory too. Seriously, dig in here, Sollik, this is important. You trusted me with the secret of your genetic abilities so now I’m asking for your help in kind!”
The Suliban froze up. His yellow eyes went wide, ablaze with shock.
Ewan saw it. Something was seriously wrong here.
“How…,” Sollik stammered. “How… do you know… of my…?”
“Oh, boy…”
ACT ONE
Captain’s Log, Stardate … well, I’m not exactly sure…
After covering my tracks with a confused Lieutenant Commander Sollik, I’ve managed to establish that I’ve traveled backwards through time. To what stardate and to what end, I have no idea on the specifics. I presume that it’s sometime earlier this year, judging from the Starfleet uniform that I find myself wearing and the status of my crew. Gabriel Brodie is on the Bridge. Katherine Pulaski is in Sickbay… but why, or perhaps more importantly, how? My future is playing without me. I have to find a way back…”
“Computer, seal my quarters, authorization: Llewellyn-Alpha-Foxtrot-two-four-two-one.”
With a satisfying hiss, the doors to Ewan’s quarters locked themselves away from the highest security override, ensuring the confused Captain’s privacy in his moment of madness. Backwards in time… it was certainly a new one for him. Never before had he experienced temporal displacement. Oh, there were stories, classes at the Academy in Temporal Mechanics, and even a Temporal Prime Directive. Ewan had hoped above that he hadn’t just broken it with Sollik and just altered the future that he was currently fighting so hard to protect… or had been fighting so hard to protect.
First things first. A proper stardate.
“Computer, what’s today’s date and time?”
“Stardate 50914,” the familiar voice of the ship’s computer answered him. “Oh-eight-hundred thirty-two.”
“Five-oh-nine-one-four,” Ewan thought aloud. “Right, just after the Tah’Henn virus incident with our new uniforms, but before Sollik and I were captured by those aliens and I learned about his genetic enhancements. No wonder he flipped out! Stupid, Ewan! That’s going to make one hell of a mess in the future!”
“It’s not your fault.”
The Captain turned at the sound of another voice. Hadn’t he just sealed his quarters? Who was in here with him? His silent questions were answered as a figure emerged from the bathroom. Whoever it was, he wasn’t a Fortitude crew member, but he looked Human enough.
He was young with short brown hair, wearing some strange black suit that glistened with fibers that Ewan failed to recognize. Yet somehow, on some undetectable level, he felt a twinge of familiarity surround him. Nevertheless, the Captain’s reaction was one of trepidation, feeling his hands ball up into a pair of tight fists.
“Who are you?,” he barked at the unknown visitor.
“My name is Daniels, Captain,” he stated calmly. “I’m a Temporal Agent from what you would consider to be the thirty-first century… except I’m not really here. What you’re seeing is a holographic representation of me, beamed back through the timestream to this point.”
“Wait, hold on a minute. Hologram, fine, but… Temporal Agent?”
“My job is to protect the timeline from damage,” Daniels explained to the Welshman for the second time in his career.”You’ve fallen back through time and changed history, Captain. Your conversation with your Chief Engineer altered the future. I detected the alteration and traced it.”
“Why am I here?”
“You’re traveled through time before,” Daniels continued. “Recently, in fact, although you won’t remember it. It was a large temporal anomaly that was reversed, meaning that the events that you experienced before never happened. The entire incident left you with a residual temporal signature. It’s an unfortunate side effect of time travel. Rare, but all too common after inadvertent trips in the timestream.”
“So you’re saying,” Ewan frowned,” that I’m here because of something that I’ve never done?”
“It’s best not to think about it. What we need to do is get you home.”
Daniels flickered as the holographic image that he was transmitting became vague. It was obviously an unwelcome interruption with Daniels’ expression growing concerned as he stepped even closer towards the Captain. There was still information to impart and he was ironically running out of time.
“Listen carefully to me,” he emphasized as his face became see-through. “You are falling randomly backwards through time. I’m having trouble with tracing your movements. You’re going to need to make your temporal signature stronger before I can get a positive lock on you and restore you to your proper time.”
“How do I go about doing that?,” Llewellyn asked him, cutting through his bemusement for now.
“The Temporal Prime Directive,” Daniels told him. “Ignore it.”
“What?!”
“Change history. Alter the future and damage the timeline. I can restore everything to normal but I have to find you first. The only way that I can do that is if you make a lot of temporal noise. Changing history is the temporal equivalent of shooting… really loud.”
The Daniels hologram started to lose cohesion.
Ewan reached out to him, trying to keep him in his quarters for just a second longer. None of this made sense. He needed answers.
Daniels had no more for him. Within a second, he was gone.
Letting out a deep sigh of disbelief, Llewellyn collapsed back into his chair. This was absolute insanity with a ton of new information related to him faster than Rear Admiral Blackmore could clean him out at the poker table. There was plenty to distrust. Ignore the Temporal Prime Directive? Was this Daniels fellow mad? Then again… why did he seem so familiar? Was he telling the truth and had he experienced time travel before?
The timeline was already damaged.
There was only one way to find out if all of this was true.
* * * *
“Helm,” he ordered loudly,” reverse course!”
“Excuse me, Captain?”
The entire Bridge shared Arden Vuro’s confusion. Randomly, Ewan Llewellyn had marched in and canceled his previous excitement over the mapping excitement that Fortitude was currently undertaking. Acting as the voice for the crew, the go-between her role as First Officer that was bestowed upon her, Valerie Archer approached his side and showed her concern from underneath her cascading fringe.
“Change of plans, sir?”
“There are alien pirates on this present course,” Llewellyn stated with conviction. “They will kidnap Sollik and myself. Furthermore, beyond that incident, the Korleeanaq system is surrounded by a Tah’Heen dampening field that will strand us for months without sensors or communications with Starbase 499. Therefore, I am reversing course.”
The predictions were met with silence. Everybody was thinking the same thing and none of them dared to voice it. Ewan knew all of them too well and knew their thoughts.
“You think I’ve gone off of my rocker,” he added with a smile. “Don’t worry. Please… just trust me.”
The magic word… trust.
If there was one thing that this crew had in their Captain, it was trust.
“Reversing course,” Arden stated as his blue fingers danced across the helm.
“There,” Ewan whispered to himself,” that should change things considerably.”
ACT TWO
It happened in the blink of an eye.
One moment, he was on the Bridge, gray shoulders adorning the top of his uniform jacket. The next thing that he knew, he was aboard Starbase 499, standing outside a door that he only knew well, with red shoulders belonging to a black jumpsuit.
It had happened again, another trip backwards in time. The old Starfleet uniform was enough of a giveaway for Ewan to deduce that part of the puzzle in seconds.
“Oh, when am I now?,” he lamented. “Computer, what’s the date?”
“Stardate 50485,” was the reply.
“Lost your mind already?,” the husky tones of Edward Blackmore observed as the door to his office slid open. “It must be a sign of stress, Ewan. Don’t let it get to you.”
Thinking on his toes, the Captain flustered an answer. He would worry about the fact that he had now traveled over a year into the past later. Right now, he had to figure out whether damaging the timeline had been a good thing for his present situation… or if it had caused him to slip even further into the history of his life.
“You know how it is, Boxer,” he grinned sheepishly at his old friend.
“Well, this call sheet has all of us worried,” Blackmore growled. “Any news on your end?”
Call sheet… a year previous… of course! The Klingon War!
Ewan immediately felt his heart sink. What a horrid piece of history to relive.
“Uh, nothing new, no,” he answered him, wondering if that was a lie or not. “I’m sorry, Boxer. I thought I had time to stop by, but… uh, I’ve got a few more things to do over on Fortitude. You don’t mind catching up later?”
“Not at all. I’ve got a new Chief Medical Officer to settle in, remember?”
Llewellyn did remember.
He remembered all too well… and he wanted out of this time period.
* * * *
“Computer, seal my quarters, authorization Llewellyn-Alpha-Foxtrot-two-four-two-one.”
Once again, the door to the Captain’s quarters locked themselves down with a hiss. A small frown crossed the Welshman’s forehead as he wondered whether it was really a case of ‘once again’ since the last time that it had happened. It was an unwritten future that he could alter with a single word. Such an insignificant concern… His main focus was hoping for another visit from his Temporal Agent advisor.
It took a few minutes.
“Good start, Captain,” the hologram of Daniels said as it formed slowly with degradation in the signal and static in the voice again. “Your actions were a relatively small change in the scope of the timestream. It was difficult to find you again.”
“You want bigger changes?,” Ewan exclaimed, his arms flapping in amazement.
“Understand me when I tell you that all of the changes will be reversed as soon as you are returned to your normal timeframe,” Daniels reassured him. “You could instigate a full-scale galactic war but once I return you to the future, none of it will have ever happened because you will have never been here!”
“So I won’t remember any of it again? Hmm… nice reset button.” There was another question playing on his mind, a question that he voiced boldly. “How can I trust you?”
“You’re going to have to, Captain,” Daniels said, open-faced, motionless with his palms upturned in a symbolic gesture of proof being lacking. “It’s as simple as that.”
“Damn, you’re full of answers, aren’t you?”
“Will you…?”
“Don’t worry,” Ewan interrupted him. “Despite the Temporal Prime Direction, I’ll continue to shout as loud as I can manage. There’s something about you, Daniels. Something that I feel like I’ve seen before. It matches your story, and frankly, I’m limited in my options here. Besides, history is already screwed up anyways.”
It wasn't long before Daniels lost his holographic signature once again.
For a second time, Llewellyn was left alone in his quarters… but not for long.
* * * *
It was a shocking sensation, looking at a dead man.
“You wanted to see me, Captain?”
“Yes, Ensign Morgan,” Ewan stuttered after a few seconds of silence had passed by. “Do come in, please. Would you like some coffee?”
James Morgan shook his head, his dark hair falling across his dark eyes. The gold-shouldered officer simply waited to be offered a seat in the Captain’s quarters, polite and dedicated as always.
Llewellyn felt his chest contort in pain with emotion, not physical, pain. He hastily threw up a barricade against the feelings of confusion, joy, tragedy, and sadness. All of them surfaced at seeing Jim again. If it was this bad for him, the Welshman prayed to whatever higher power existed out there that Jason Armstrong never experience a fall through time like his.
“Am I in trouble, sir?,” Jim asked innocently, his face painted with a picture of worry.
“No, no… not at all, Ensign,” he calmed him down. “Do you have any thoughts about the call sheet that came through this morning?”
“Some,” Jim revealed truthfully. “Jason has been as supportive as possible but I don’t think he wants me to leave. No, scratch that. I know that he doesn’t want me to leave. Then again, there’s duty. Why do we wear these uniforms, Captain? I know why I’m wearing mine, and I’ve been called to serve. It’s tough… love versus duty.”
“Hopefully, I can make that choice irrelevant.”
“Captain?”
Llewellyn took a deep breath. If Daniels wanted bigger changes to the timeline, this one would be humongous.
“Jim, if you transfer to the McCaffrey as requested by the call sheet, you will be killed in battle near the Federation-Klingon border. Jason and the rest of the crew will be irrevocably affected by your loss. Therefore, I am ordering you to remain aboard this ship as my Tactical Officer, effective immediately.”
Jim’s stubble-covered jaw dropped in unbridled astonishment.
There… damage done.
ACT THREE
It happened again and just as quickly as before.
“Computer,” Llewellyn exhaled, now weary of this time business. “The date?”
“Stardate 48799.”
It took him a moment to exactly recall when he had landed. His surroundings hadn’t been altered. His uniform was still in the old style of pure crimson shoulders and a one-piece body-hugging jumpsuit. In fact, the only change was James Morgan. He had disappeared from the couch, the space that he had been occupying was forebodingly empty. The Captain shook his head clear of the emotional cobwebs clouding his judgment. Sitting there and talking to Jim had been taxing. It was a conversation that he wished he could have again. A warning that he wished was a permanent part of history and yet he knew that it would never be. Daniels had made that pretty clear that all damage would be repaired.
Obviously, saving the life of James Morgan hadn’t been enough.
Turning, Ewan gazed out of the window in his quarters. Outside, the event that matched the stardate was taking place. Starbase 488 hung over the peaceful Santrag II, the pre-revolution Santrag II that was still ruled by Veth Ka’Gerran. In between all of that and Fortitude was the indicator of the timeframe. No lights shone from the windows. No power ran through the nacelles. She was an empty shell, ready to be retrofitted by the ambition of Ewan Llewellyn.
The Steamrunner was arriving.
Damn, this was almost three years in the past! This was the start of it all. Ewan watched her for almost a full minute before he was distracted.
“My signal is stronger this time,” the holographic Daniels stated, pointing out the obvious as his solid shape moved to the window beside him. “Telling Ensign Morgan to remain aboard Fortitude had wide-reaching consequences. You’ve given me quite the mess to clean up, Captain.”
“Then why can’t you get me home?”
“With each temporal jump, you’re fading into history, becoming more and more integral to the events that you’ve been instigating. If you don’t make your next alteration to the timestream a catastrophic one, Captain, I’m afraid that I won’t be able to rescue you from your accidental state before…”
“Out with it,” Llewellyn barked, annoyed by the dramatic pause. “Before what, Daniels?”
“Before you fall back to a time before you were born,” the hologram answered him flatly, fear and terror showing in his simulated eyes. “You will have never existed.”
“Oh, great… motivation, wonderful…”
“Think carefully before choosing your next action, Captain. I hope to see you again soon. Good luck.”
As Daniels disappeared from the space before him, the Welshman returned his line of sight to the view. Steamrunner was a beauty in any time period or in any state of disrepair, that much was certain. Slowly, his focus shifted. He started to analyze the history that he was a part of, searching desperately for something incredible, something outrageous to change. Maybe destroy the Steamrunner? Would the End have overrun Starbase 499 then or even the Borg? Would Fortitude have ever been rescued from the Tah’Heen sensory interference?
The Tah’Heen…
Spy…
“Of course,” Llewellyn suddenly said, snapping his fingers as he dashed for the door.
* * * *
Despite his hatred of Sickbay, the Captain found himself looking forward to this visit.
As the entrance slid open to reveal the neatly-formed biobeds and glowing operating booth that dominated the medical heart of the Intrepid-class starship, Ewan’s attention snapped immediately to the left and towards the Chief Medical Officer’s office. Behind the curved glass and seated behind the desk inside, was the current Doctor. It was a face that he had come to loathe and associate with betrayal, danger, and corruption.
At the moment, it was the cool logical face of a Vulcan, but Llewellyn knew better.
“Doctor T’Verra,” he announced,” do you have a moment?”
“Captain,” T’Verra said, lifting her head in acknowledgment,” how may I be of assistance?”
“Just a general curiosity of mine,” the cutting Welsh accent, laden with sarcasm, dominated the room. “Tell me, does it take a great deal of time and effort to suppress cranial ridges? I mean, to make a Romulan look, oh, I don’t know… Vulcan?”
T’Verra showed a flicker of emotion. Her muscles tensed in reaction to the blatant attack. How did he know? “The process,” she went on regardless,” is a fairly simple one given today’s advances in cosmetic alteration and facial reconstruction. I can demonstrate…?”
“Drop it, Naketha,” Llewellyn snapped at her, done with his game.
The flicker of emotion returned, much stronger this time behind the spy’s eyes. “Captain, I…”
Ewan ended the conversation by raising a phaser.
Unmasked by the surprising clairvoyance of her commanding officer, Naketha stood to her full height behind her desk. Instinctively, she raised her hands in surrender, menace replacing the shock on her face. Like a cornered animal, she was preparing to fight but it was a fight that the Captain had no intention of undertaking.
He simply fired the phaser.
It struck her chest as Fortitude automatically went to Red Alert with the unauthorized weapons fire being detected within milliseconds. Slumping to the desk, Naketha’s body gave up on life, just as Llewellyn felt a tingling sensation blast through his veins. Around him, the bulkheads vanished and the phaser in his grasp dissolved before him. It felt as though a giant hand was scooping him from existence and ripping him from time.
The sensation was a new one. Oddly unsettling… and yet somehow reassuring.
Things were returning to normal.
EPILOGUE
“Well done, Captain. It’s over.”
Light almost blinded him, a torrent of hues from an impressive and beautiful vortex of energy that encircled his floating form. Absorbing all the details of it with an expression close to a schoolchild discovering the joy of fireworks, Ewan watched as events in history flew past him. They were all accelerating wildly, heading towards the moment where he belonged and to the moment that he was returning to. Slowly, he watched his uniform revert to what it had started as, the modern up-to-date design from his timeframe.
Daniels stood before him. It wasn’t the hologram but the real Daniels this time.
“It’s rare to see you smile,” Llewellyn noted with a grin of his own.
“The timeline is restoring itself. Every event that we pass by is an event repaired.
There went the premature unmasking of Naketha, and there went James Morgan… this time, leaving for the Federation-Klingon Border as he was tragically meant to. Suddenly all of the images became of recent events, all of them filled with the ambiguity that dominated Llewellyn’s current task of hunting the Tah’Heen.
“I won’t remember a single piece of all of this, will I?”
“Not a thing,” Daniels confirmed. “I’ll be returning you to five seconds before your first temporal jump. It won’t happen again. You’ll wake up in your quarters and be able to get on with your mission.”
“While this may sound silly,” the Captain pressed on,” since I can’t do anything with the answer that you give me… I have to ask. Since you’re from the future, do you know the identity of the people behind the Tah’Heen? Do you know who we’re fighting against?”
“Yes,” Daniels nodded, his smile fading.
“Will you tell me?”
“You’ll find out sooner than you expect, Captain,” was the only answer offered and the only answer given. “In the meantime, you’ll continue to lead your crew on your distinguished voyage.”
“What about afterwards? What about when I find out?”
“That’s the future, Captain. It isn’t written.”
It wasn’t the resounding prediction of triumph that was hoped for.
“Yes,” Ewan corrected him. “It isn’t written yet.”
The End.
Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Three, Episode Twelve - “Directive”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
The morning had started like any other day.
Breakfast consisted of the usual buttered toast and coffee that was rushed through while he donned his red turtleneck undergarment. By the time that he was zipping up his gray-shouldered Starfleet uniform jacket, the plate and cup were empty. His medium-length dark hair only took a moment to fix, brushed away from his eyes as he simultaneously slid into his polished black boots. The standard morning routine was complete in less than ten minutes. Not his personal best, but it was still admirable.
“Captain to Sollik,” Ewan Llewellyn called out after tapping his combadge.
“Sollik here, sir,” replied the Chief Engineer.
“Drop what you’re doing and report to my quarters,” came the order, though it was said without the malice that the words implied. “See you in a moment.”
“Understood, Captain. I’m on my way.”
Sollik arrived quicker than he expected. Showing the Suliban in and offering him a politely-declined cup of coffee, Ewan sat down on his comfortable sofa and let out a small sigh, rubbing his temples with worry. He was about to ask for a favor that he didn’t enjoy contemplating, but there was something in his gut that told him that it was necessary.
The latest Tah’Heen attack kept playing over in his mind. The Starbase Database had been wiped clean while he and Rear Admiral Blackmore had been playing host at a peaceful banquet. The thoughts that he had been having were unsettling. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.
“Do you remember when I asked you to be available over the next couple of days?,” Llewellyn reminded his chief engineer in a low tone. “I have a few things to discuss with you, and a few orders that I wanted to be implemented on the quiet…?”
Sollik frowned with his green scales folding in confusion. “Captain?”
“You know,” the Welshman pressed on,” outside the transporter room.”
“No, sir,” came the honest reply. “I don’t.”
This was odd. Sollik wasn’t something who played games. Was the stress finally getting to Ewan?
“Come on, Commander,” he repeated. “You do remember, don’t you?”
“Like I just said, Captain, I really don’t.”
“Next, you’ll be telling me that the Tah’Heen wiped your memory too. Seriously, dig in here, Sollik, this is important. You trusted me with the secret of your genetic abilities so now I’m asking for your help in kind!”
The Suliban froze up. His yellow eyes went wide, ablaze with shock.
Ewan saw it. Something was seriously wrong here.
“How…,” Sollik stammered. “How… do you know… of my…?”
“Oh, boy…”
ACT ONE
Captain’s Log, Stardate … well, I’m not exactly sure…
After covering my tracks with a confused Lieutenant Commander Sollik, I’ve managed to establish that I’ve traveled backwards through time. To what stardate and to what end, I have no idea on the specifics. I presume that it’s sometime earlier this year, judging from the Starfleet uniform that I find myself wearing and the status of my crew. Gabriel Brodie is on the Bridge. Katherine Pulaski is in Sickbay… but why, or perhaps more importantly, how? My future is playing without me. I have to find a way back…”
“Computer, seal my quarters, authorization: Llewellyn-Alpha-Foxtrot-two-four-two-one.”
With a satisfying hiss, the doors to Ewan’s quarters locked themselves away from the highest security override, ensuring the confused Captain’s privacy in his moment of madness. Backwards in time… it was certainly a new one for him. Never before had he experienced temporal displacement. Oh, there were stories, classes at the Academy in Temporal Mechanics, and even a Temporal Prime Directive. Ewan had hoped above that he hadn’t just broken it with Sollik and just altered the future that he was currently fighting so hard to protect… or had been fighting so hard to protect.
First things first. A proper stardate.
“Computer, what’s today’s date and time?”
“Stardate 50914,” the familiar voice of the ship’s computer answered him. “Oh-eight-hundred thirty-two.”
“Five-oh-nine-one-four,” Ewan thought aloud. “Right, just after the Tah’Henn virus incident with our new uniforms, but before Sollik and I were captured by those aliens and I learned about his genetic enhancements. No wonder he flipped out! Stupid, Ewan! That’s going to make one hell of a mess in the future!”
“It’s not your fault.”
The Captain turned at the sound of another voice. Hadn’t he just sealed his quarters? Who was in here with him? His silent questions were answered as a figure emerged from the bathroom. Whoever it was, he wasn’t a Fortitude crew member, but he looked Human enough.
He was young with short brown hair, wearing some strange black suit that glistened with fibers that Ewan failed to recognize. Yet somehow, on some undetectable level, he felt a twinge of familiarity surround him. Nevertheless, the Captain’s reaction was one of trepidation, feeling his hands ball up into a pair of tight fists.
“Who are you?,” he barked at the unknown visitor.
“My name is Daniels, Captain,” he stated calmly. “I’m a Temporal Agent from what you would consider to be the thirty-first century… except I’m not really here. What you’re seeing is a holographic representation of me, beamed back through the timestream to this point.”
“Wait, hold on a minute. Hologram, fine, but… Temporal Agent?”
“My job is to protect the timeline from damage,” Daniels explained to the Welshman for the second time in his career.”You’ve fallen back through time and changed history, Captain. Your conversation with your Chief Engineer altered the future. I detected the alteration and traced it.”
“Why am I here?”
“You’re traveled through time before,” Daniels continued. “Recently, in fact, although you won’t remember it. It was a large temporal anomaly that was reversed, meaning that the events that you experienced before never happened. The entire incident left you with a residual temporal signature. It’s an unfortunate side effect of time travel. Rare, but all too common after inadvertent trips in the timestream.”
“So you’re saying,” Ewan frowned,” that I’m here because of something that I’ve never done?”
“It’s best not to think about it. What we need to do is get you home.”
Daniels flickered as the holographic image that he was transmitting became vague. It was obviously an unwelcome interruption with Daniels’ expression growing concerned as he stepped even closer towards the Captain. There was still information to impart and he was ironically running out of time.
“Listen carefully to me,” he emphasized as his face became see-through. “You are falling randomly backwards through time. I’m having trouble with tracing your movements. You’re going to need to make your temporal signature stronger before I can get a positive lock on you and restore you to your proper time.”
“How do I go about doing that?,” Llewellyn asked him, cutting through his bemusement for now.
“The Temporal Prime Directive,” Daniels told him. “Ignore it.”
“What?!”
“Change history. Alter the future and damage the timeline. I can restore everything to normal but I have to find you first. The only way that I can do that is if you make a lot of temporal noise. Changing history is the temporal equivalent of shooting… really loud.”
The Daniels hologram started to lose cohesion.
Ewan reached out to him, trying to keep him in his quarters for just a second longer. None of this made sense. He needed answers.
Daniels had no more for him. Within a second, he was gone.
Letting out a deep sigh of disbelief, Llewellyn collapsed back into his chair. This was absolute insanity with a ton of new information related to him faster than Rear Admiral Blackmore could clean him out at the poker table. There was plenty to distrust. Ignore the Temporal Prime Directive? Was this Daniels fellow mad? Then again… why did he seem so familiar? Was he telling the truth and had he experienced time travel before?
The timeline was already damaged.
There was only one way to find out if all of this was true.
* * * *
“Helm,” he ordered loudly,” reverse course!”
“Excuse me, Captain?”
The entire Bridge shared Arden Vuro’s confusion. Randomly, Ewan Llewellyn had marched in and canceled his previous excitement over the mapping excitement that Fortitude was currently undertaking. Acting as the voice for the crew, the go-between her role as First Officer that was bestowed upon her, Valerie Archer approached his side and showed her concern from underneath her cascading fringe.
“Change of plans, sir?”
“There are alien pirates on this present course,” Llewellyn stated with conviction. “They will kidnap Sollik and myself. Furthermore, beyond that incident, the Korleeanaq system is surrounded by a Tah’Heen dampening field that will strand us for months without sensors or communications with Starbase 499. Therefore, I am reversing course.”
The predictions were met with silence. Everybody was thinking the same thing and none of them dared to voice it. Ewan knew all of them too well and knew their thoughts.
“You think I’ve gone off of my rocker,” he added with a smile. “Don’t worry. Please… just trust me.”
The magic word… trust.
If there was one thing that this crew had in their Captain, it was trust.
“Reversing course,” Arden stated as his blue fingers danced across the helm.
“There,” Ewan whispered to himself,” that should change things considerably.”
ACT TWO
It happened in the blink of an eye.
One moment, he was on the Bridge, gray shoulders adorning the top of his uniform jacket. The next thing that he knew, he was aboard Starbase 499, standing outside a door that he only knew well, with red shoulders belonging to a black jumpsuit.
It had happened again, another trip backwards in time. The old Starfleet uniform was enough of a giveaway for Ewan to deduce that part of the puzzle in seconds.
“Oh, when am I now?,” he lamented. “Computer, what’s the date?”
“Stardate 50485,” was the reply.
“Lost your mind already?,” the husky tones of Edward Blackmore observed as the door to his office slid open. “It must be a sign of stress, Ewan. Don’t let it get to you.”
Thinking on his toes, the Captain flustered an answer. He would worry about the fact that he had now traveled over a year into the past later. Right now, he had to figure out whether damaging the timeline had been a good thing for his present situation… or if it had caused him to slip even further into the history of his life.
“You know how it is, Boxer,” he grinned sheepishly at his old friend.
“Well, this call sheet has all of us worried,” Blackmore growled. “Any news on your end?”
Call sheet… a year previous… of course! The Klingon War!
Ewan immediately felt his heart sink. What a horrid piece of history to relive.
“Uh, nothing new, no,” he answered him, wondering if that was a lie or not. “I’m sorry, Boxer. I thought I had time to stop by, but… uh, I’ve got a few more things to do over on Fortitude. You don’t mind catching up later?”
“Not at all. I’ve got a new Chief Medical Officer to settle in, remember?”
Llewellyn did remember.
He remembered all too well… and he wanted out of this time period.
* * * *
“Computer, seal my quarters, authorization Llewellyn-Alpha-Foxtrot-two-four-two-one.”
Once again, the door to the Captain’s quarters locked themselves down with a hiss. A small frown crossed the Welshman’s forehead as he wondered whether it was really a case of ‘once again’ since the last time that it had happened. It was an unwritten future that he could alter with a single word. Such an insignificant concern… His main focus was hoping for another visit from his Temporal Agent advisor.
It took a few minutes.
“Good start, Captain,” the hologram of Daniels said as it formed slowly with degradation in the signal and static in the voice again. “Your actions were a relatively small change in the scope of the timestream. It was difficult to find you again.”
“You want bigger changes?,” Ewan exclaimed, his arms flapping in amazement.
“Understand me when I tell you that all of the changes will be reversed as soon as you are returned to your normal timeframe,” Daniels reassured him. “You could instigate a full-scale galactic war but once I return you to the future, none of it will have ever happened because you will have never been here!”
“So I won’t remember any of it again? Hmm… nice reset button.” There was another question playing on his mind, a question that he voiced boldly. “How can I trust you?”
“You’re going to have to, Captain,” Daniels said, open-faced, motionless with his palms upturned in a symbolic gesture of proof being lacking. “It’s as simple as that.”
“Damn, you’re full of answers, aren’t you?”
“Will you…?”
“Don’t worry,” Ewan interrupted him. “Despite the Temporal Prime Direction, I’ll continue to shout as loud as I can manage. There’s something about you, Daniels. Something that I feel like I’ve seen before. It matches your story, and frankly, I’m limited in my options here. Besides, history is already screwed up anyways.”
It wasn't long before Daniels lost his holographic signature once again.
For a second time, Llewellyn was left alone in his quarters… but not for long.
* * * *
It was a shocking sensation, looking at a dead man.
“You wanted to see me, Captain?”
“Yes, Ensign Morgan,” Ewan stuttered after a few seconds of silence had passed by. “Do come in, please. Would you like some coffee?”
James Morgan shook his head, his dark hair falling across his dark eyes. The gold-shouldered officer simply waited to be offered a seat in the Captain’s quarters, polite and dedicated as always.
Llewellyn felt his chest contort in pain with emotion, not physical, pain. He hastily threw up a barricade against the feelings of confusion, joy, tragedy, and sadness. All of them surfaced at seeing Jim again. If it was this bad for him, the Welshman prayed to whatever higher power existed out there that Jason Armstrong never experience a fall through time like his.
“Am I in trouble, sir?,” Jim asked innocently, his face painted with a picture of worry.
“No, no… not at all, Ensign,” he calmed him down. “Do you have any thoughts about the call sheet that came through this morning?”
“Some,” Jim revealed truthfully. “Jason has been as supportive as possible but I don’t think he wants me to leave. No, scratch that. I know that he doesn’t want me to leave. Then again, there’s duty. Why do we wear these uniforms, Captain? I know why I’m wearing mine, and I’ve been called to serve. It’s tough… love versus duty.”
“Hopefully, I can make that choice irrelevant.”
“Captain?”
Llewellyn took a deep breath. If Daniels wanted bigger changes to the timeline, this one would be humongous.
“Jim, if you transfer to the McCaffrey as requested by the call sheet, you will be killed in battle near the Federation-Klingon border. Jason and the rest of the crew will be irrevocably affected by your loss. Therefore, I am ordering you to remain aboard this ship as my Tactical Officer, effective immediately.”
Jim’s stubble-covered jaw dropped in unbridled astonishment.
There… damage done.
ACT THREE
It happened again and just as quickly as before.
“Computer,” Llewellyn exhaled, now weary of this time business. “The date?”
“Stardate 48799.”
It took him a moment to exactly recall when he had landed. His surroundings hadn’t been altered. His uniform was still in the old style of pure crimson shoulders and a one-piece body-hugging jumpsuit. In fact, the only change was James Morgan. He had disappeared from the couch, the space that he had been occupying was forebodingly empty. The Captain shook his head clear of the emotional cobwebs clouding his judgment. Sitting there and talking to Jim had been taxing. It was a conversation that he wished he could have again. A warning that he wished was a permanent part of history and yet he knew that it would never be. Daniels had made that pretty clear that all damage would be repaired.
Obviously, saving the life of James Morgan hadn’t been enough.
Turning, Ewan gazed out of the window in his quarters. Outside, the event that matched the stardate was taking place. Starbase 488 hung over the peaceful Santrag II, the pre-revolution Santrag II that was still ruled by Veth Ka’Gerran. In between all of that and Fortitude was the indicator of the timeframe. No lights shone from the windows. No power ran through the nacelles. She was an empty shell, ready to be retrofitted by the ambition of Ewan Llewellyn.
The Steamrunner was arriving.
Damn, this was almost three years in the past! This was the start of it all. Ewan watched her for almost a full minute before he was distracted.
“My signal is stronger this time,” the holographic Daniels stated, pointing out the obvious as his solid shape moved to the window beside him. “Telling Ensign Morgan to remain aboard Fortitude had wide-reaching consequences. You’ve given me quite the mess to clean up, Captain.”
“Then why can’t you get me home?”
“With each temporal jump, you’re fading into history, becoming more and more integral to the events that you’ve been instigating. If you don’t make your next alteration to the timestream a catastrophic one, Captain, I’m afraid that I won’t be able to rescue you from your accidental state before…”
“Out with it,” Llewellyn barked, annoyed by the dramatic pause. “Before what, Daniels?”
“Before you fall back to a time before you were born,” the hologram answered him flatly, fear and terror showing in his simulated eyes. “You will have never existed.”
“Oh, great… motivation, wonderful…”
“Think carefully before choosing your next action, Captain. I hope to see you again soon. Good luck.”
As Daniels disappeared from the space before him, the Welshman returned his line of sight to the view. Steamrunner was a beauty in any time period or in any state of disrepair, that much was certain. Slowly, his focus shifted. He started to analyze the history that he was a part of, searching desperately for something incredible, something outrageous to change. Maybe destroy the Steamrunner? Would the End have overrun Starbase 499 then or even the Borg? Would Fortitude have ever been rescued from the Tah’Heen sensory interference?
The Tah’Heen…
Spy…
“Of course,” Llewellyn suddenly said, snapping his fingers as he dashed for the door.
* * * *
Despite his hatred of Sickbay, the Captain found himself looking forward to this visit.
As the entrance slid open to reveal the neatly-formed biobeds and glowing operating booth that dominated the medical heart of the Intrepid-class starship, Ewan’s attention snapped immediately to the left and towards the Chief Medical Officer’s office. Behind the curved glass and seated behind the desk inside, was the current Doctor. It was a face that he had come to loathe and associate with betrayal, danger, and corruption.
At the moment, it was the cool logical face of a Vulcan, but Llewellyn knew better.
“Doctor T’Verra,” he announced,” do you have a moment?”
“Captain,” T’Verra said, lifting her head in acknowledgment,” how may I be of assistance?”
“Just a general curiosity of mine,” the cutting Welsh accent, laden with sarcasm, dominated the room. “Tell me, does it take a great deal of time and effort to suppress cranial ridges? I mean, to make a Romulan look, oh, I don’t know… Vulcan?”
T’Verra showed a flicker of emotion. Her muscles tensed in reaction to the blatant attack. How did he know? “The process,” she went on regardless,” is a fairly simple one given today’s advances in cosmetic alteration and facial reconstruction. I can demonstrate…?”
“Drop it, Naketha,” Llewellyn snapped at her, done with his game.
The flicker of emotion returned, much stronger this time behind the spy’s eyes. “Captain, I…”
Ewan ended the conversation by raising a phaser.
Unmasked by the surprising clairvoyance of her commanding officer, Naketha stood to her full height behind her desk. Instinctively, she raised her hands in surrender, menace replacing the shock on her face. Like a cornered animal, she was preparing to fight but it was a fight that the Captain had no intention of undertaking.
He simply fired the phaser.
It struck her chest as Fortitude automatically went to Red Alert with the unauthorized weapons fire being detected within milliseconds. Slumping to the desk, Naketha’s body gave up on life, just as Llewellyn felt a tingling sensation blast through his veins. Around him, the bulkheads vanished and the phaser in his grasp dissolved before him. It felt as though a giant hand was scooping him from existence and ripping him from time.
The sensation was a new one. Oddly unsettling… and yet somehow reassuring.
Things were returning to normal.
EPILOGUE
“Well done, Captain. It’s over.”
Light almost blinded him, a torrent of hues from an impressive and beautiful vortex of energy that encircled his floating form. Absorbing all the details of it with an expression close to a schoolchild discovering the joy of fireworks, Ewan watched as events in history flew past him. They were all accelerating wildly, heading towards the moment where he belonged and to the moment that he was returning to. Slowly, he watched his uniform revert to what it had started as, the modern up-to-date design from his timeframe.
Daniels stood before him. It wasn’t the hologram but the real Daniels this time.
“It’s rare to see you smile,” Llewellyn noted with a grin of his own.
“The timeline is restoring itself. Every event that we pass by is an event repaired.
There went the premature unmasking of Naketha, and there went James Morgan… this time, leaving for the Federation-Klingon Border as he was tragically meant to. Suddenly all of the images became of recent events, all of them filled with the ambiguity that dominated Llewellyn’s current task of hunting the Tah’Heen.
“I won’t remember a single piece of all of this, will I?”
“Not a thing,” Daniels confirmed. “I’ll be returning you to five seconds before your first temporal jump. It won’t happen again. You’ll wake up in your quarters and be able to get on with your mission.”
“While this may sound silly,” the Captain pressed on,” since I can’t do anything with the answer that you give me… I have to ask. Since you’re from the future, do you know the identity of the people behind the Tah’Heen? Do you know who we’re fighting against?”
“Yes,” Daniels nodded, his smile fading.
“Will you tell me?”
“You’ll find out sooner than you expect, Captain,” was the only answer offered and the only answer given. “In the meantime, you’ll continue to lead your crew on your distinguished voyage.”
“What about afterwards? What about when I find out?”
“That’s the future, Captain. It isn’t written.”
It wasn’t the resounding prediction of triumph that was hoped for.
“Yes,” Ewan corrected him. “It isn’t written yet.”
The End.
Hot damn again!!
I have to look it up, but if I can get my next two stories done by Saturday, I can claim that I wrote forty stories within the time frame of four months. It must be a Guinness record...
Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Three, Episode Thirteen - “Unleashed, Part One”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
This was it… the final assignment.
Slowly, he leaned back in his chair and watched the telemetry come in. it swamped his tiny viewport, overlaid by the sophisticated computer system humming beneath the deck plating of his cramped cockpit. He saw that there was danger on the horizon. Well, technically, he didn’t. All that his beady eyes could see were numbers and star charts with positions of vessels and planets. To his calculating mind, he could see the danger and the threats to his existence.
The first set of numbers was labeled Fortitude.
They showed the Intrepid-class starship holding position alongside another set of numbers, Starbase 499, which in turn rested over a third numeric table representing the Class-M world of Santrag II. Buzzing around them, a tiny cluster of digits pointed out the locations of numerous shuttlecraft and the Oberth-class science vessel Katherine Johnson.
That ship was of little tactical concern, he mused. It would fall easily in the coming battle. For the battle was now, hanging over this corner of space like a shadow, gathering pace like a violent storm. The beauty of the situation, he grinned, was that nobody could see this particular storm coming. Nobody… of course, except for him… and his paymaster.
The Tah’Heen recorded all of the tactical data that he could.
An alert sounded, drawing a frown from the nefarious spy. “Incoming vessel,” he observed aloud to himself. “The Shurvun… back again?”
How these Federation people valued their friends. How pathetic and naive they were.
Soon all of that would change.
Checking over his shoulder, the Tah’Heen took one final reassuring look at the large pile of crates stored behind him. They were filled with his payment of gold-pressed latinum and various currencies of friendly neighborhood star systems that would hide his guilty form during the aftermath of his actions. Tapping a small control on his console, he watched them beam to the safety of his surface hideout. He would be back for them soon… very soon.
“Computer,” he hissed with glee,” set course for Santrag II and engage.”
ACT ONE
Captain’s Log, Stardate 51424.7;
After a long tiring week of searching for the Tah’Heen, my crew and I have returned to Starbase 499 for an exciting occasion. Today, Rear Admiral Blackmore is going to send a subspace transmission to Earth, requisition formal documents to be drawn up, preparing to over Federation membership to the Shurvun. The party is already in full swing with Tano Jmara having already arrived aboard the Vunara. If only we had a success of our own to toast… although I suppose this qualifies…
Music echoed in between the gaps in conversation. Drinks were grasped in every hand, Human or otherwise.
Club 499 had never been busier.
Stepping through the chattering cross with a boyish grin transfixed to his handsome visage, Ewan Llewellyn made a beeline for the guest of honor. Tano Jmara, the Shurvun national who had made all of this possible with his charm and grace was the center of attention. Despite the lack of Starfleet uniforms on display, everybody noticed the presence of the Captain and moved aside, allowing the two friends to embrace warmly.
Tano kept his silvery hands clasped on Ewan’s shoulders as they parted. “I’m glad that you could make this!”
“I wouldn’t miss this,” Ewan said, beaming. “This is a great day, my friend. How long…”
“Not long, I’m afraid,” Tano replied to his question. “Tonight, we have to leave. My ship is charting a nearby protostar. Our official ambassadors will remain aboard the two other exploratory cruisers. The signing will go ahead without me. After all, I am merely a starship captain.”
“You’re more than that,” protested the Welshman. “You should be there!”
“Duty calls. I’m sure that you understand. “Please don’t be offended.”
“Of course, I do,” Ewan smiled,” and, of course, I’m not!”
“Good. Now let’s see about getting you a drink.”
They moved towards the bar, brushing past congratulatory Humans, Shurvuns, and even the odd handful of Santragans. It was great to have them back, adding to the communal atmosphere of the place.
With each passing smile, handshake or pat on the back, the Captain felt his mood lighten. No new Tah’Heen leads… That was annoying, to say the least, but this made it all seem like a minor problem. It was moments like these that made Ewan get up in the morning and put on his Starfleet uniform, not the battles or investigations into mysterious figures lurking in the shadows.
Besides, with such a strengthened camaraderie, the Tah’Heen could do their worst.
Today, the Santrag system and all within it were truly invincible.
“Ewan!”
Turning around, the Captain responded to the familiar voice shouting his name. “Erica,” he replied, watching a rather distressed and exhausted Station Master Martinez dash up to his side with a PADD in her hand. “What’s the matter? Why are you still wearing your uniform? It’s a party!”
“No time for that now,” objected the Latina woman. “Here, take a look at this.”
Llewellyn took the PADD and gave it a quick scan. His eyes widened. There was just a single message, typed to avoid disturbing the rest of the people in Club 499.
Tah’Heen ship spotted nearby. You are needed.
* * * *
“Report!”
Nobody stopped to point out the Captain’s lack of Starfleet uniform. His combadge was still there, attached to the brightly-colored shirt that was loosely covering his athletic frame. That was all that Starfleet regulations demanded in an emergency situation and that was all that mattered.
The Bridge was on Red Alert, along with the other fourteen decks of Fortitude, and the senior officers were all at their stations, ready to go.
With her own uniform securely in place, Valerie Archer joined her commanding officer. “Ensign Armstrong picked up the Tah’Heen vessel closing in on the Santrag system at low warp,” she quickly told Ewan. “Thanks to the shield harmonics that we still have, the identification was earlier than normal. Their estimated time of arrival is just over two hours from now.”
“Why come here?”
“No theories yet.”
“Well, we’ll just have to ask them, won’t we? Arden, plot an intercept course.”
“Already done, Captain,” acknowledged the Bolian at the helm.
“Good man. Maximum warp, engage!”
The journey was short. With Fortitude bolting along at Warp Nine-point-Nine and reaching the limits of her propulsion, despite the concerned brow of Lieutenant Commander Sollik at the engineering console, they were soon within visual range of the Tah’Heen. It was a hideous thing to behold. It was small, compact, and almost buried underneath various sensor-jamming equipment and weapons. Almost immediately, those weapons opened fire. Three bolts of pure plasma energy slammed into the shields of the Intrepid-class starship as their quarry reversed course, running from the larger and more powerful vessel.
“Stay with them, Arden,” Ewan demanded, tensely leaning forward in his command chair. “Mister Brodie, return fire!”
“Aye, sir,” Gabriel Brodie said, grinning at his place at Tactical. “Direct hit. Their shields are weakening.”
The Tah’Heen bobbed and weaved as if it was trying to avoid some invisible obstacle course laid out before it. The evasive maneuvers did nothing to shake the steady hands of Lieutenant Vuro or the pent-up aggression of Lieutenant Commander Brodie. Once more, phaser fire shot forth from the ventral saucer array of Fortitude, and it did some serious damage, lowering the Tah’Heen’s shields a significant amount.
“Punch through and finish the job,” Llewellyn snarled. “Target his engines.”
A single photon torpedo was all that it took.
“They’re slowing, Captain.”
“Tractor beam,” Archer suggested, gaining his nod of approval.
Within seconds, a blue energy beam reached out from the Federation starship and snatched the dead engine array of the Tah’Heen vessel. It found a solid hold and , in a move that every single crew member applauded, finally captured the spy.
On the Bridge, with victory replaced the tension thumping at his very soul, Ewan Llewellyn stood from his seat and stepped forward. “Ensign Armstrong,” he ordered,” open a channel.”
It was time to speak with their nemesis.
ACT TWO
Everybody on the Bridge knew what to expect. They had seen imagery and read reports detailing the appearance of the Tah’Heen. Nevertheless, when the face of the spy appeared on the main viewscreen, many of them recoiled with disgust. It wasn’t racism or xenophobia. It was just a simple fact that the Tah’Heen were an aesthetically repulsive race.
They had folds of skin overlapping one another, drooping over their facial features that were covered in sweat and ooze. It was the corrosive material that kept them from leaving any DNA trace behind on surfaces, but it was also destroying the skin that it touched. It was a wonder that evolution had created such a contradiction, but Katherine Pulaski had answered any and all questions on the matter… providing that she could find any answers. This was the first time that a real, live Tah’Heen had been viewed by anyone present.
It was of the male gender, thin, combat-green in skin tone, and deeply aggravated at being captured.
“What do you want?!,” he spat at the Starfleet officers. “Who are you?!”
“I’m Captain Ewan Llewellyn of the Federation starship Fortitude,” Ewan said asserting his will, his stance seen as deliberately aggressive,” but I would wager that you already knew that. You, sir, have been interfering with my ship, my crew, and my friends in the Santrag system for a very long time and we’ve finally had enough.”
“Lies,” the Tah’Heen objected. “I won’t capitulate.”
“The hell you won’t!”
This conversation wasn’t going anywhere fast. After a moment of silence, Commander Archer stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on her Captain’s shoulder. It calmed him down, instantly, and he allowed his First Officer to take over control of the situation.
“Jason,” she ordered,” beam him directly to the Brig.”
“I can’t get a lock, Commander,” Ensign Armstrong replied from Operations. “He’s using a transport inhibitor to prevent anyone from removing him from that ship.”
“Oh, screw this nonsense,” Llewellyn blurted out. “Listen to me, Tah’Heen. I’m giving you ten seconds to deactivate your inhibitor and hand yourself over into our custody.”
“Or you’ll do what, exactly?,” sniggered the spy on the viewscreen.
“You don’t want to play games with me,” the Welshman said, seething, as he moved down the Bridge to stand beside Vuro at the helm. “Turn yourself over or my ship’s tractor beam will hurl you into the Santragan sun.”
The Tah’Heen laughed, which made the Bridge officers gasp.
“Five seconds remaining.”
“You wouldn’t harm me, Federation,” the Tah’Heen blurted out, dropping his innocent plea in favor of a more direct approach. “Yes, I have been interfering with you… testing you, watching you, and all that means is that I know you, Captain. You would never harm life, just for the sake of doing it. It is not in your nature.”
“Thanks for your honesty,” Ewan threw back at him,” but your time is up.”
He faced Vuro and looked him directly in the eye, making sure that he was fully understood. The Bolian returned his stare, seeing the all-consuming fury and abhorrence building up within his commanding officer. It was a truly frightening thing to watch in a man who was ruled by peace and calm. This Tah’Heen had pushed him over the edge.
“Arden, set course for the Santragan sun,” came the order that nobody could believe was spoken.
“Sir?”
“You heard me, Lieutenant!”
“Captain, I don’t think I can follow that order--”
“Then you’re relieved,” Llewellyn barked at him, literally shoving Vuro away from his console as he took control of the helm and laid in the appropriate course. “I’ll do it myself. Tah’Heen spy, you have a minute before I disengage the tractor beam and throw you into the sun. I would wish you happy landings but… well, you know…”
The situation was insane.
Fortitude banked to port, dragging the ugly little Tah’Heen vessel towards the sun.
Nobody could comprehend it. Not Valerie, not Sollik, and certainly not the Tah’Heen.
Nobody could stop the Captain.
He was going to murder the Tah’Heen.
In that moment, for the first time in her career, Valerie Archer contemplated mutiny.
“The clock is ticking,” Ewan taunted.
The outer hull of the USS Fortitude was starting to glow. Ship’s personnel looking outside of windows outside the forward section were starting to panic, the brilliant orange light pouring over their stations and quarters, getting brighter with the Santragan sun blocking out more of the surrounding stars. Meanwhile, personnel stationed near windows facing aft could just make out the terrified thrashing of a Tah’Heen pilot in the cockpit of the ship trapped in the ever-present, all-powerful tractor beam.
“You’re… you’re bluffing, Captain!,” the spy shouted on the viewscreen. “You’re not a murderer! Besides, you would face a court-martial! You’re breaking your own laws!”
“It’s a small price to pay if it means capturing you,” the Welshman at the helm snarled, his body trembling with a volatile mixture of anger and fear. The anger was directed at the Tah’Heen in front of him. Oh, how he had longed for the moment when he finally uncovered all of the answers to this nearly year-long sage, and now it was here within his grasp and he feared how far he was willing to let this go.
In a strange out-of-body experience, Ewan saw himself sitting at the helm, piloting Fortitude towards the deadly swirling vortex of the sun’s energy. He was instigating a suicide run, taking the most deadly and brutal of actions.
This wasn’t him!
Still, despite that realization, he couldn’t stop himself. His heart pounded against his chest, beating out a symphony of wrath. He couldn’t even think about his crew around him.
“Hull temperature is rising!,” Jason Armstrong yelled, breaking that barrier in Ewan’s mind for a second. “Captain, radiation levels are dangerously high!”
“Thank you, Ensign,” Llewellyn snapped in reply.
“Sir, it’s it about time that we admit that this didn’t work?,” Valerie Archer whispered, trying to break through to the man that she loved, cared for… “Reverse course. We can try another method.”
“Not today, we can’t,” growled a reply.
Ewan slapped a single button that released the tractor beam. The Tah’Heen, helpless and crippled, started to fall into the Santragan sun.
“Damn it, Ewan!,” Archer cried in disbelief.
“Do you feel like disabling that inhibitor now?,” the Captain shouted at the viewscreen.
“I.. you…” the Tah’Heen stammered as he realized that this wasn’t part of the plan that was covered by his paycheck. This had gone on long enough. This part was supposed to be the simple part! With a sigh, his repugnant features collapsed in their defiance as he deactivated the transport inhibitor. “It’s offline! Fuck you, Captain!”
“Beam him out of there!,” Ewan yelled, jerking his finger towards Jason.
“I’ve got him,” the young Kentuckian reported, a second later.
It wasn’t a moment too soon.
Everyone watched on the main viewer as the Tah’Heen vessel broke apart. Flames engulfed the disparate sections of the hull, melting through the weapons and technology as the relentless heat consumed what remained.
Llewellyn collapsed with exhaustion, catching a glimpse of his command chair. He felt as though he didn’t belong in it.
Season Three, Episode Thirteen - “Unleashed, Part One”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
This was it… the final assignment.
Slowly, he leaned back in his chair and watched the telemetry come in. it swamped his tiny viewport, overlaid by the sophisticated computer system humming beneath the deck plating of his cramped cockpit. He saw that there was danger on the horizon. Well, technically, he didn’t. All that his beady eyes could see were numbers and star charts with positions of vessels and planets. To his calculating mind, he could see the danger and the threats to his existence.
The first set of numbers was labeled Fortitude.
They showed the Intrepid-class starship holding position alongside another set of numbers, Starbase 499, which in turn rested over a third numeric table representing the Class-M world of Santrag II. Buzzing around them, a tiny cluster of digits pointed out the locations of numerous shuttlecraft and the Oberth-class science vessel Katherine Johnson.
That ship was of little tactical concern, he mused. It would fall easily in the coming battle. For the battle was now, hanging over this corner of space like a shadow, gathering pace like a violent storm. The beauty of the situation, he grinned, was that nobody could see this particular storm coming. Nobody… of course, except for him… and his paymaster.
The Tah’Heen recorded all of the tactical data that he could.
An alert sounded, drawing a frown from the nefarious spy. “Incoming vessel,” he observed aloud to himself. “The Shurvun… back again?”
How these Federation people valued their friends. How pathetic and naive they were.
Soon all of that would change.
Checking over his shoulder, the Tah’Heen took one final reassuring look at the large pile of crates stored behind him. They were filled with his payment of gold-pressed latinum and various currencies of friendly neighborhood star systems that would hide his guilty form during the aftermath of his actions. Tapping a small control on his console, he watched them beam to the safety of his surface hideout. He would be back for them soon… very soon.
“Computer,” he hissed with glee,” set course for Santrag II and engage.”
ACT ONE
Captain’s Log, Stardate 51424.7;
After a long tiring week of searching for the Tah’Heen, my crew and I have returned to Starbase 499 for an exciting occasion. Today, Rear Admiral Blackmore is going to send a subspace transmission to Earth, requisition formal documents to be drawn up, preparing to over Federation membership to the Shurvun. The party is already in full swing with Tano Jmara having already arrived aboard the Vunara. If only we had a success of our own to toast… although I suppose this qualifies…
Music echoed in between the gaps in conversation. Drinks were grasped in every hand, Human or otherwise.
Club 499 had never been busier.
Stepping through the chattering cross with a boyish grin transfixed to his handsome visage, Ewan Llewellyn made a beeline for the guest of honor. Tano Jmara, the Shurvun national who had made all of this possible with his charm and grace was the center of attention. Despite the lack of Starfleet uniforms on display, everybody noticed the presence of the Captain and moved aside, allowing the two friends to embrace warmly.
Tano kept his silvery hands clasped on Ewan’s shoulders as they parted. “I’m glad that you could make this!”
“I wouldn’t miss this,” Ewan said, beaming. “This is a great day, my friend. How long…”
“Not long, I’m afraid,” Tano replied to his question. “Tonight, we have to leave. My ship is charting a nearby protostar. Our official ambassadors will remain aboard the two other exploratory cruisers. The signing will go ahead without me. After all, I am merely a starship captain.”
“You’re more than that,” protested the Welshman. “You should be there!”
“Duty calls. I’m sure that you understand. “Please don’t be offended.”
“Of course, I do,” Ewan smiled,” and, of course, I’m not!”
“Good. Now let’s see about getting you a drink.”
They moved towards the bar, brushing past congratulatory Humans, Shurvuns, and even the odd handful of Santragans. It was great to have them back, adding to the communal atmosphere of the place.
With each passing smile, handshake or pat on the back, the Captain felt his mood lighten. No new Tah’Heen leads… That was annoying, to say the least, but this made it all seem like a minor problem. It was moments like these that made Ewan get up in the morning and put on his Starfleet uniform, not the battles or investigations into mysterious figures lurking in the shadows.
Besides, with such a strengthened camaraderie, the Tah’Heen could do their worst.
Today, the Santrag system and all within it were truly invincible.
“Ewan!”
Turning around, the Captain responded to the familiar voice shouting his name. “Erica,” he replied, watching a rather distressed and exhausted Station Master Martinez dash up to his side with a PADD in her hand. “What’s the matter? Why are you still wearing your uniform? It’s a party!”
“No time for that now,” objected the Latina woman. “Here, take a look at this.”
Llewellyn took the PADD and gave it a quick scan. His eyes widened. There was just a single message, typed to avoid disturbing the rest of the people in Club 499.
Tah’Heen ship spotted nearby. You are needed.
* * * *
“Report!”
Nobody stopped to point out the Captain’s lack of Starfleet uniform. His combadge was still there, attached to the brightly-colored shirt that was loosely covering his athletic frame. That was all that Starfleet regulations demanded in an emergency situation and that was all that mattered.
The Bridge was on Red Alert, along with the other fourteen decks of Fortitude, and the senior officers were all at their stations, ready to go.
With her own uniform securely in place, Valerie Archer joined her commanding officer. “Ensign Armstrong picked up the Tah’Heen vessel closing in on the Santrag system at low warp,” she quickly told Ewan. “Thanks to the shield harmonics that we still have, the identification was earlier than normal. Their estimated time of arrival is just over two hours from now.”
“Why come here?”
“No theories yet.”
“Well, we’ll just have to ask them, won’t we? Arden, plot an intercept course.”
“Already done, Captain,” acknowledged the Bolian at the helm.
“Good man. Maximum warp, engage!”
The journey was short. With Fortitude bolting along at Warp Nine-point-Nine and reaching the limits of her propulsion, despite the concerned brow of Lieutenant Commander Sollik at the engineering console, they were soon within visual range of the Tah’Heen. It was a hideous thing to behold. It was small, compact, and almost buried underneath various sensor-jamming equipment and weapons. Almost immediately, those weapons opened fire. Three bolts of pure plasma energy slammed into the shields of the Intrepid-class starship as their quarry reversed course, running from the larger and more powerful vessel.
“Stay with them, Arden,” Ewan demanded, tensely leaning forward in his command chair. “Mister Brodie, return fire!”
“Aye, sir,” Gabriel Brodie said, grinning at his place at Tactical. “Direct hit. Their shields are weakening.”
The Tah’Heen bobbed and weaved as if it was trying to avoid some invisible obstacle course laid out before it. The evasive maneuvers did nothing to shake the steady hands of Lieutenant Vuro or the pent-up aggression of Lieutenant Commander Brodie. Once more, phaser fire shot forth from the ventral saucer array of Fortitude, and it did some serious damage, lowering the Tah’Heen’s shields a significant amount.
“Punch through and finish the job,” Llewellyn snarled. “Target his engines.”
A single photon torpedo was all that it took.
“They’re slowing, Captain.”
“Tractor beam,” Archer suggested, gaining his nod of approval.
Within seconds, a blue energy beam reached out from the Federation starship and snatched the dead engine array of the Tah’Heen vessel. It found a solid hold and , in a move that every single crew member applauded, finally captured the spy.
On the Bridge, with victory replaced the tension thumping at his very soul, Ewan Llewellyn stood from his seat and stepped forward. “Ensign Armstrong,” he ordered,” open a channel.”
It was time to speak with their nemesis.
ACT TWO
Everybody on the Bridge knew what to expect. They had seen imagery and read reports detailing the appearance of the Tah’Heen. Nevertheless, when the face of the spy appeared on the main viewscreen, many of them recoiled with disgust. It wasn’t racism or xenophobia. It was just a simple fact that the Tah’Heen were an aesthetically repulsive race.
They had folds of skin overlapping one another, drooping over their facial features that were covered in sweat and ooze. It was the corrosive material that kept them from leaving any DNA trace behind on surfaces, but it was also destroying the skin that it touched. It was a wonder that evolution had created such a contradiction, but Katherine Pulaski had answered any and all questions on the matter… providing that she could find any answers. This was the first time that a real, live Tah’Heen had been viewed by anyone present.
It was of the male gender, thin, combat-green in skin tone, and deeply aggravated at being captured.
“What do you want?!,” he spat at the Starfleet officers. “Who are you?!”
“I’m Captain Ewan Llewellyn of the Federation starship Fortitude,” Ewan said asserting his will, his stance seen as deliberately aggressive,” but I would wager that you already knew that. You, sir, have been interfering with my ship, my crew, and my friends in the Santrag system for a very long time and we’ve finally had enough.”
“Lies,” the Tah’Heen objected. “I won’t capitulate.”
“The hell you won’t!”
This conversation wasn’t going anywhere fast. After a moment of silence, Commander Archer stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on her Captain’s shoulder. It calmed him down, instantly, and he allowed his First Officer to take over control of the situation.
“Jason,” she ordered,” beam him directly to the Brig.”
“I can’t get a lock, Commander,” Ensign Armstrong replied from Operations. “He’s using a transport inhibitor to prevent anyone from removing him from that ship.”
“Oh, screw this nonsense,” Llewellyn blurted out. “Listen to me, Tah’Heen. I’m giving you ten seconds to deactivate your inhibitor and hand yourself over into our custody.”
“Or you’ll do what, exactly?,” sniggered the spy on the viewscreen.
“You don’t want to play games with me,” the Welshman said, seething, as he moved down the Bridge to stand beside Vuro at the helm. “Turn yourself over or my ship’s tractor beam will hurl you into the Santragan sun.”
The Tah’Heen laughed, which made the Bridge officers gasp.
“Five seconds remaining.”
“You wouldn’t harm me, Federation,” the Tah’Heen blurted out, dropping his innocent plea in favor of a more direct approach. “Yes, I have been interfering with you… testing you, watching you, and all that means is that I know you, Captain. You would never harm life, just for the sake of doing it. It is not in your nature.”
“Thanks for your honesty,” Ewan threw back at him,” but your time is up.”
He faced Vuro and looked him directly in the eye, making sure that he was fully understood. The Bolian returned his stare, seeing the all-consuming fury and abhorrence building up within his commanding officer. It was a truly frightening thing to watch in a man who was ruled by peace and calm. This Tah’Heen had pushed him over the edge.
“Arden, set course for the Santragan sun,” came the order that nobody could believe was spoken.
“Sir?”
“You heard me, Lieutenant!”
“Captain, I don’t think I can follow that order--”
“Then you’re relieved,” Llewellyn barked at him, literally shoving Vuro away from his console as he took control of the helm and laid in the appropriate course. “I’ll do it myself. Tah’Heen spy, you have a minute before I disengage the tractor beam and throw you into the sun. I would wish you happy landings but… well, you know…”
The situation was insane.
Fortitude banked to port, dragging the ugly little Tah’Heen vessel towards the sun.
Nobody could comprehend it. Not Valerie, not Sollik, and certainly not the Tah’Heen.
Nobody could stop the Captain.
He was going to murder the Tah’Heen.
In that moment, for the first time in her career, Valerie Archer contemplated mutiny.
“The clock is ticking,” Ewan taunted.
The outer hull of the USS Fortitude was starting to glow. Ship’s personnel looking outside of windows outside the forward section were starting to panic, the brilliant orange light pouring over their stations and quarters, getting brighter with the Santragan sun blocking out more of the surrounding stars. Meanwhile, personnel stationed near windows facing aft could just make out the terrified thrashing of a Tah’Heen pilot in the cockpit of the ship trapped in the ever-present, all-powerful tractor beam.
“You’re… you’re bluffing, Captain!,” the spy shouted on the viewscreen. “You’re not a murderer! Besides, you would face a court-martial! You’re breaking your own laws!”
“It’s a small price to pay if it means capturing you,” the Welshman at the helm snarled, his body trembling with a volatile mixture of anger and fear. The anger was directed at the Tah’Heen in front of him. Oh, how he had longed for the moment when he finally uncovered all of the answers to this nearly year-long sage, and now it was here within his grasp and he feared how far he was willing to let this go.
In a strange out-of-body experience, Ewan saw himself sitting at the helm, piloting Fortitude towards the deadly swirling vortex of the sun’s energy. He was instigating a suicide run, taking the most deadly and brutal of actions.
This wasn’t him!
Still, despite that realization, he couldn’t stop himself. His heart pounded against his chest, beating out a symphony of wrath. He couldn’t even think about his crew around him.
“Hull temperature is rising!,” Jason Armstrong yelled, breaking that barrier in Ewan’s mind for a second. “Captain, radiation levels are dangerously high!”
“Thank you, Ensign,” Llewellyn snapped in reply.
“Sir, it’s it about time that we admit that this didn’t work?,” Valerie Archer whispered, trying to break through to the man that she loved, cared for… “Reverse course. We can try another method.”
“Not today, we can’t,” growled a reply.
Ewan slapped a single button that released the tractor beam. The Tah’Heen, helpless and crippled, started to fall into the Santragan sun.
“Damn it, Ewan!,” Archer cried in disbelief.
“Do you feel like disabling that inhibitor now?,” the Captain shouted at the viewscreen.
“I.. you…” the Tah’Heen stammered as he realized that this wasn’t part of the plan that was covered by his paycheck. This had gone on long enough. This part was supposed to be the simple part! With a sigh, his repugnant features collapsed in their defiance as he deactivated the transport inhibitor. “It’s offline! Fuck you, Captain!”
“Beam him out of there!,” Ewan yelled, jerking his finger towards Jason.
“I’ve got him,” the young Kentuckian reported, a second later.
It wasn’t a moment too soon.
Everyone watched on the main viewer as the Tah’Heen vessel broke apart. Flames engulfed the disparate sections of the hull, melting through the weapons and technology as the relentless heat consumed what remained.
Llewellyn collapsed with exhaustion, catching a glimpse of his command chair. He felt as though he didn’t belong in it.
ACT THREE
Captain’s Log, supplemental;
We have returned to Starbase 499, giving the Tah’Heen time to sweat in our Brig while we prepare for our interrogation. It has also given me some time to consider my recent actions. The crew seems to be afraid of me now with a thick silence descending on the Bridge. To be honest, I’m probably most afraid… of what became of me at that moment as it was something that I could never be proud of. Despite our success in capturing the Tah’Heen, I am recording this log entry with a powerful sense of shame and an unreserved apology to my crew.
Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore couldn’t believe his ears.
As his friend finished relaying his tale, he shook his head to show his disbelief. He had known Ewan Llewellyn for almost three years now. While he was the first to recognize the young Captain’s ballsy nature and strength of character, he also respected and understood the peaceful, calm demeanor that he carried himself with… and it was the abandonment of that demeanor that worried him. Scratching his salt-and-pepper beard, he leaned forward and poured fresh coffee into two coffee cups as he tried to find the right answer. After all, Ewan had come to him as a friend and not as a Starfleet officer. While, as a Starfleet Rear Admiral and the highest-ranking Starfleet officer in the sector, it was his role to discipline the Captain.
Well… that wasn’t how it was done out in this corner of the Federation. Out here, things were done differently.
“Okay,” he slowly began to say,” first things first. This is nothing new, Ewan. We’ve all seen how passionate you can be. Remember the destruction of the Pekeni? You were a little mad there too. Beat an End soldier to the floor on your own Bridge if I recall the reports correctly. I’ll be honest. It scared me then and this latest incident scares me now, but if there’s a pattern to diagnose--”
“This was different, Boxer,” Ewan said, interrupting him. “I wasn’t just prepared to kill. I wanted to kill. That Tah’Heen spy has caused us so much suffering and danger… and I wanted him gone, Boxer. I wanted him dead.”
“What makes this so terrifying is that you placed your ship and crew in danger to carry out your plan,” Blackmore pointed out, making the Welshman sigh deeply. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear but emotions are running high around here, even more now that we’ve got the bastard behind a force field. Whatever happens, Ewan, you’ve got people around you who care. Valerie was there.”
“Yeah, Valerie was there,” Llewellyn repeated with a heavy heart. “I ignored her.”
“Because you knew she could stop you, right?”
“I guess so.”
“Well, look,” Boxer offered sympathetically,” whatever happens next, whatever we get from that Tah’Heen spy, what do you say to me coming with you?”
“You mean…?”
“I mean we’re going to find out who’s behind all of this soon enough,” Blackmore pressed on, eager to have his head heard and accepted. “Fortitude will, naturally, be the ship that I send to investigate. If you’re having doubts, and one friend isn’t enough to make you feel better, then how about two?”
Llewellyn didn’t know what to say. He simply smiled at his best friend, giving him a small nod.
* * * *
Valerie Archer was pacing with her hands clasped behind her back. She was mostly pacing because of impatience. Captain Llewellyn was supposed to be here, outside the Fortitude Brig, ten minutes ago.
Beyond the door was the Tah’Heen, the spy that they had waited for months to capture and interrogate. Delays were now what the First Officer wanted to do battle with now. Still, there was a degree of her pacing that was consumed by anxiety.
Ewan… what happened to him? What had he become?
The young, inexperienced pacifist, the cute look-before-you-leap innocence in his sparkling eyes… She loved that about him. Yet on the Bridge, he had transformed. He had become something more dangerous and sinister. He had practically tortured the Tah’Heen.
Not only that, but he seemed to be enjoying it.
Valerie’s worries were pushed aside when she saw the handsome features of her Captain come around the corner. She wasn’t going to mention any of it.
Ewan had other ideas.
“Valerie,” he said softly,” I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I ignored you. I’m sorry that I went a little crazy and I’m sorry for the danger that I brought upon the ship and the crew. Believe me, please, when I say that the person at the helm back there wasn’t me. I don't know what happened but it won’t happen again. Will you accept my apology?”
“Am I responding as your First Officer or as your friend?”
“You’re both,” Llewellyn said, smiling. “Always have been and always will be.”
“In that case,” she smiled in return,” of course, I accept. There’s still the matter of this interrogation. Once more unto the breach?”
“Not for me. I don’t want to see that slimy little shit ever again if I can help it. Besides, if I’m honest, I’m afraid of what I might do to him. No, being alone in a room with him right now could be dangerous for both of us. If you don’t mind, Valerie, would you conduct the interrogation?”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll report back soon.”
“I’ll be on the Bridge. Good luck… and thank you.”
* * * *
Gabriel Brodie nearly burst several blood vessels in his neck as he snapped to attention, his dark eyes weren’t even watching as Rear Admiral Blackmore walked past the tactical console and headed for the center of Fortitude’s Bridge. With his usual military perfection, the dark-skinned tactical officer snapped his heels together and barked the usual protocol.
“Admiral on the Bridge!”
“At ease, everyone,” Boxer chuckled, waving off the show of appreciation. Arden Vuro, Jason Armstrong, Sollik, and Gabriel Brodie slowly returned to their duties.
The Ready Room doors opened, a second later, with all of the attention having been well-and-truly grabbed by Brodie’s introduction.
“Ah, there you are, Ewan!”
“It’s nice to have you aboard, Boxer,” the Captain said, welcoming him. “Valerie’s on her way up from the Brig. she says she’s finished with the Tah’Heen.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Blackmore acknowledged with a wink,” ready to go.”
The turbolift doors hissed open, letting Valerie Archer walk towards her two superior officers who were standing ahead of her. She nodded to the Rear Admiral respectfully before she delivered her report directly to Captain Llewellyn.
Her surprise and concern were obvious in every word.
“No name, and no permanent address. We destroyed his ship so there’s nothing to be gained from there,” she dealt with quickly. “All that he would give me was a route to a nearby star system and said that all of our answers would be revealed on the fifth planet. Nothing more, and no psychological read that I could get from him. Just this planet’s location. This smells like a trap to me, Captain. It’s a little too perfect for my taste.”
As usual, she was right on the money. Carefully, the Captain weighed in all of the variables in his now-calm mind. He had been taking events far too personally. Well, not anymore, he had vowed. This was now a problem that needed a solution. Like it or not, the solution would be difficult to reach. The Tah’Heen was an unknown variable in the overall equation, but he was a variable nonetheless.
“Trap or no trap,” Ewan noted,” it’s all that we have right now.”
“I agree,” Blackmore chipped in.
“Have Doctor Pulaski get down to the Brig and run a few tests on the Tah’Heen,” Llewellyn ordered, his mind made up. “See if she can ascertain the validity of his statement and find out if he’s hiding anything. In the meantime, we’ll investigate this planet. Valerie, give Arden the coordinates and engage at Warp Eight.”
EPILOGUE
The fifth planet of the nearby star system turned out to be mostly covered in thick jungle vegetation. It had yet to be charted by the Federation simply for a lack of interest. Not a single lifeform reading was detected from any of the six worlds orbiting this fading star. It was odd to find a jungle that was devoid of life whatsoever. Still, Vuro had frowned, that was what the sensors said and so that was the case. End of discussion.
The Tah’Heen materialized first followed by the Starfleet away team that surrounded him. With his wrists bound in magnetic restraints, the spy had no choice in the matter of accompanying his enemy to the planet’s surface.
Behind him, Captain Llewellyn and Rear Admiral Blackmore stepped out of the transporter beam, armed with phasers. As they looked around at the alien landscape, Lieutenant Commander Brodie and Ensign Armstrong cajoled the Tah’Heen into compliance. With Ewan being careful around the spy, he had absolutely no reservations about jabbing his sidearms into his thin, wiry figure.
“There’s a structure,” Blackmore noted from his tricorder.
“What’s inside?,” Brodie asked the Tah’Heen forcefully with a scowl.
“The answers that you seek,” was his cryptic reply.
There was no choice.
The away team advanced towards the structure.
Inside, it was pitch black. The four Starfleet officers activated their palm beacons, casting powerful white beams of light across the rough stone walls. Not a single sound was made, nor was a single movement detected. It was a menacing, cold place.
Jason let his shoulders tremble slightly at the foreboding atmosphere, not afraid to admit that he was slightly afraid. No one berated him for it except for the Tah’Heen.
“Okay, there’s nothing here,” Ewan finally barked, turning on the Tah’Heen.
“On the contrary…”
The voice wasn’t the Tah’Heen’s. It wasn’t Human either. It echoed from the shadows.
“Who said that?,” Gabriel Brodie demanded, raising his phaser.
“My paymaster,” hissed the Tah’Heen with deranged glee in his high-pitched tone.
“I know that voice,” Blackmore realized in horror.
Beacons whirled towards the source of the voice. When the light struck the being, all of the Starfleet officers present felt their jaws drop in gut-wrenching shock. The Rear Admiral lunged forward, his eyes ablaze with the bitter sting of betrayal.
“Oh my God,” he gasped.
To be Continued...
Captain’s Log, supplemental;
We have returned to Starbase 499, giving the Tah’Heen time to sweat in our Brig while we prepare for our interrogation. It has also given me some time to consider my recent actions. The crew seems to be afraid of me now with a thick silence descending on the Bridge. To be honest, I’m probably most afraid… of what became of me at that moment as it was something that I could never be proud of. Despite our success in capturing the Tah’Heen, I am recording this log entry with a powerful sense of shame and an unreserved apology to my crew.
Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore couldn’t believe his ears.
As his friend finished relaying his tale, he shook his head to show his disbelief. He had known Ewan Llewellyn for almost three years now. While he was the first to recognize the young Captain’s ballsy nature and strength of character, he also respected and understood the peaceful, calm demeanor that he carried himself with… and it was the abandonment of that demeanor that worried him. Scratching his salt-and-pepper beard, he leaned forward and poured fresh coffee into two coffee cups as he tried to find the right answer. After all, Ewan had come to him as a friend and not as a Starfleet officer. While, as a Starfleet Rear Admiral and the highest-ranking Starfleet officer in the sector, it was his role to discipline the Captain.
Well… that wasn’t how it was done out in this corner of the Federation. Out here, things were done differently.
“Okay,” he slowly began to say,” first things first. This is nothing new, Ewan. We’ve all seen how passionate you can be. Remember the destruction of the Pekeni? You were a little mad there too. Beat an End soldier to the floor on your own Bridge if I recall the reports correctly. I’ll be honest. It scared me then and this latest incident scares me now, but if there’s a pattern to diagnose--”
“This was different, Boxer,” Ewan said, interrupting him. “I wasn’t just prepared to kill. I wanted to kill. That Tah’Heen spy has caused us so much suffering and danger… and I wanted him gone, Boxer. I wanted him dead.”
“What makes this so terrifying is that you placed your ship and crew in danger to carry out your plan,” Blackmore pointed out, making the Welshman sigh deeply. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear but emotions are running high around here, even more now that we’ve got the bastard behind a force field. Whatever happens, Ewan, you’ve got people around you who care. Valerie was there.”
“Yeah, Valerie was there,” Llewellyn repeated with a heavy heart. “I ignored her.”
“Because you knew she could stop you, right?”
“I guess so.”
“Well, look,” Boxer offered sympathetically,” whatever happens next, whatever we get from that Tah’Heen spy, what do you say to me coming with you?”
“You mean…?”
“I mean we’re going to find out who’s behind all of this soon enough,” Blackmore pressed on, eager to have his head heard and accepted. “Fortitude will, naturally, be the ship that I send to investigate. If you’re having doubts, and one friend isn’t enough to make you feel better, then how about two?”
Llewellyn didn’t know what to say. He simply smiled at his best friend, giving him a small nod.
* * * *
Valerie Archer was pacing with her hands clasped behind her back. She was mostly pacing because of impatience. Captain Llewellyn was supposed to be here, outside the Fortitude Brig, ten minutes ago.
Beyond the door was the Tah’Heen, the spy that they had waited for months to capture and interrogate. Delays were now what the First Officer wanted to do battle with now. Still, there was a degree of her pacing that was consumed by anxiety.
Ewan… what happened to him? What had he become?
The young, inexperienced pacifist, the cute look-before-you-leap innocence in his sparkling eyes… She loved that about him. Yet on the Bridge, he had transformed. He had become something more dangerous and sinister. He had practically tortured the Tah’Heen.
Not only that, but he seemed to be enjoying it.
Valerie’s worries were pushed aside when she saw the handsome features of her Captain come around the corner. She wasn’t going to mention any of it.
Ewan had other ideas.
“Valerie,” he said softly,” I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I ignored you. I’m sorry that I went a little crazy and I’m sorry for the danger that I brought upon the ship and the crew. Believe me, please, when I say that the person at the helm back there wasn’t me. I don't know what happened but it won’t happen again. Will you accept my apology?”
“Am I responding as your First Officer or as your friend?”
“You’re both,” Llewellyn said, smiling. “Always have been and always will be.”
“In that case,” she smiled in return,” of course, I accept. There’s still the matter of this interrogation. Once more unto the breach?”
“Not for me. I don’t want to see that slimy little shit ever again if I can help it. Besides, if I’m honest, I’m afraid of what I might do to him. No, being alone in a room with him right now could be dangerous for both of us. If you don’t mind, Valerie, would you conduct the interrogation?”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll report back soon.”
“I’ll be on the Bridge. Good luck… and thank you.”
* * * *
Gabriel Brodie nearly burst several blood vessels in his neck as he snapped to attention, his dark eyes weren’t even watching as Rear Admiral Blackmore walked past the tactical console and headed for the center of Fortitude’s Bridge. With his usual military perfection, the dark-skinned tactical officer snapped his heels together and barked the usual protocol.
“Admiral on the Bridge!”
“At ease, everyone,” Boxer chuckled, waving off the show of appreciation. Arden Vuro, Jason Armstrong, Sollik, and Gabriel Brodie slowly returned to their duties.
The Ready Room doors opened, a second later, with all of the attention having been well-and-truly grabbed by Brodie’s introduction.
“Ah, there you are, Ewan!”
“It’s nice to have you aboard, Boxer,” the Captain said, welcoming him. “Valerie’s on her way up from the Brig. she says she’s finished with the Tah’Heen.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Blackmore acknowledged with a wink,” ready to go.”
The turbolift doors hissed open, letting Valerie Archer walk towards her two superior officers who were standing ahead of her. She nodded to the Rear Admiral respectfully before she delivered her report directly to Captain Llewellyn.
Her surprise and concern were obvious in every word.
“No name, and no permanent address. We destroyed his ship so there’s nothing to be gained from there,” she dealt with quickly. “All that he would give me was a route to a nearby star system and said that all of our answers would be revealed on the fifth planet. Nothing more, and no psychological read that I could get from him. Just this planet’s location. This smells like a trap to me, Captain. It’s a little too perfect for my taste.”
As usual, she was right on the money. Carefully, the Captain weighed in all of the variables in his now-calm mind. He had been taking events far too personally. Well, not anymore, he had vowed. This was now a problem that needed a solution. Like it or not, the solution would be difficult to reach. The Tah’Heen was an unknown variable in the overall equation, but he was a variable nonetheless.
“Trap or no trap,” Ewan noted,” it’s all that we have right now.”
“I agree,” Blackmore chipped in.
“Have Doctor Pulaski get down to the Brig and run a few tests on the Tah’Heen,” Llewellyn ordered, his mind made up. “See if she can ascertain the validity of his statement and find out if he’s hiding anything. In the meantime, we’ll investigate this planet. Valerie, give Arden the coordinates and engage at Warp Eight.”
EPILOGUE
The fifth planet of the nearby star system turned out to be mostly covered in thick jungle vegetation. It had yet to be charted by the Federation simply for a lack of interest. Not a single lifeform reading was detected from any of the six worlds orbiting this fading star. It was odd to find a jungle that was devoid of life whatsoever. Still, Vuro had frowned, that was what the sensors said and so that was the case. End of discussion.
The Tah’Heen materialized first followed by the Starfleet away team that surrounded him. With his wrists bound in magnetic restraints, the spy had no choice in the matter of accompanying his enemy to the planet’s surface.
Behind him, Captain Llewellyn and Rear Admiral Blackmore stepped out of the transporter beam, armed with phasers. As they looked around at the alien landscape, Lieutenant Commander Brodie and Ensign Armstrong cajoled the Tah’Heen into compliance. With Ewan being careful around the spy, he had absolutely no reservations about jabbing his sidearms into his thin, wiry figure.
“There’s a structure,” Blackmore noted from his tricorder.
“What’s inside?,” Brodie asked the Tah’Heen forcefully with a scowl.
“The answers that you seek,” was his cryptic reply.
There was no choice.
The away team advanced towards the structure.
Inside, it was pitch black. The four Starfleet officers activated their palm beacons, casting powerful white beams of light across the rough stone walls. Not a single sound was made, nor was a single movement detected. It was a menacing, cold place.
Jason let his shoulders tremble slightly at the foreboding atmosphere, not afraid to admit that he was slightly afraid. No one berated him for it except for the Tah’Heen.
“Okay, there’s nothing here,” Ewan finally barked, turning on the Tah’Heen.
“On the contrary…”
The voice wasn’t the Tah’Heen’s. It wasn’t Human either. It echoed from the shadows.
“Who said that?,” Gabriel Brodie demanded, raising his phaser.
“My paymaster,” hissed the Tah’Heen with deranged glee in his high-pitched tone.
“I know that voice,” Blackmore realized in horror.
Beacons whirled towards the source of the voice. When the light struck the being, all of the Starfleet officers present felt their jaws drop in gut-wrenching shock. The Rear Admiral lunged forward, his eyes ablaze with the bitter sting of betrayal.
“Oh my God,” he gasped.
To be Continued...
Yowza!!!
I'm working on the beginning of Season Four now.
Another good action-packed season. New species, new friends, a new adversary, time travel. Always interesting to see Naketha appear. Nice job.
I am the first person to appreciate a good cliffhanger, and this one certainly is a doozy.
This entire season has clearly been building up to this point, and as per usual, on the way there, you've put your characters though multiple wringers and gauntlets. Practically noone was spared.
Off I go to the next season.
This entire season has clearly been building up to this point, and as per usual, on the way there, you've put your characters though multiple wringers and gauntlets. Practically noone was spared.
Off I go to the next season.
- Status
