Tales of the USS Bluefin - 10: "No Honor Among Thieves"
- Thread starter TheLoneRedshirt
- Start date
Would you believe a Targ ate chapter nine? How about a dyspeptic Dachshund?
Actually, my computer kakked my latest installment.
So, I'm having to re-do chapter nine from scratch (more or less). Hopefully v.2.0 will be better that the late and lamented original.Thank you for your patience. We now return you to your regularly scheduled life.
That sucks!!! Did you just not hit save, or did a virus get it? 
Ooh, that's bad. I'll save the speech about always saving important data regularly and instead recommend watching the movie "Wonder Boys", where the loss of a written work is an issue, too. It's also a very enjoyable movie.
I'm not really sure what happened. I added the chapter and saved it. When I came back to reopen the file and edit, the previous chapters were there but chapter nine was gone. 
Virus scan showed all clear - not sure what could have caused it not to save the update.
No use crying over it, but I hate that it happened. I don't work from notes (I'm more of a stream-of-consciousness writer), so I'll have to recreate it best I can from memory.
Virus scan showed all clear - not sure what could have caused it not to save the update. No use crying over it, but I hate that it happened. I don't work from notes (I'm more of a stream-of-consciousness writer), so I'll have to recreate it best I can from memory.
Neither do I. I tend to start writing and see what happens. That's where the curve balls come from.I don't work from notes (I'm more of a stream-of-consciousness writer), so I'll have to recreate it best I can from memory.
I'm lucky that hasn't happened to me. I just get my laptops going "blue screen" on me.
Neither do I. I tend to start writing and see what happens. That's where the curve balls come from.I don't work from notes (I'm more of a stream-of-consciousness writer), so I'll have to recreate it best I can from memory.
I'm lucky that hasn't happened to me. I just get my laptops going "blue screen" on me.
I work the same way. Chapter seven of Seleya: Corkscrewed went the same way-took me 2 weeks to recreate it.
Chapter Nine
Stardate 54334.9 (5 May 2377)
Star Station Echo
Office of Admiral Morgan Bateson, Commander - 7th Border Service Squadron
Morgan Bateson stifled a yawn as he affixed his thumbprint to yet another PADD, approving a resupply requisition for the USS Avondale, a Soyuz - class cutter in his squadron. He flexed his hand gingerly and placed the data device on the tall stack of PADDS which leaned precariously on his desk, finally finished with his "paper" work for the day.
He stood and stretched his large frame, eliciting a pop from his spine. He grunted in pleasure, relieved to be through sitting at his desk. Days like these tended to make him long for the time when he commanded a ship. Alas, his days in the center seat of a Border Service cutter were behind him.
"Computer, dim lights," he ordered. The overhead panels in his office faded out, leaving only a small desk lamp for illumination. He was about to exit his office and head to his apartment, when his terminal chimed for attention.
With a sigh, Bateson wearily lowered himself into his chair and tapped the reply stud. "Yes, Lieutenant?"
The image of the Admiral's Andorian aide appeared on the screen, wearing an apologetic look.
"Sorry to bother you sir, but I have Admiral Bouvier standing by. The signal is coded priority one."
Bateson's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Put her through." Priority one indicated something serious, indeed.
The tight, narrow face of Admiral Bouvier appeared on Bateson's terminal. She did not look happy.
"Bateson - I need an update on the investigation of that weaponized plague virus. Do you have any leads?"
"Nothing new to report, Admiral. The Pompano is on station with the derelict Syndicate vessel, but we haven't learned anything more than what Captain Akinola's crew initially discovered." Bateson knew that he was taking a dig at Bouvier, but he really didn't give a damn.
Bouvier's eyes narrowed. "Let me make this clear, Bateson. You are to keep me apprised of any new information regarding the attack on the Syndicate ship, regardless of how significant it may seem to you. I expect updates every twelve hours . . . and more than that, I expect some significant progress!"
Bateson's face flushed with indignation. "Admiral, with all due respect, reassigning Bluefin cost us valuable time in making progress on this investigation. We will get more done if you'll give us some room to do our jobs."
"I don't see the job getting done, Admiral Bateson. But I promise you this - if I feel this way the same time tomorrow, I'll have you replaced with someone who can! Bouvier, out."
Before Bateson could reply, the channel was cut and the Admiral found himself staring at a blank screen.
"Damn that insufferable woman!" he muttered.
* * *
Stardate 54335.1 (6 May 2377)
USS Bluefin
Transiting the Molari Badlands
Bridge
Lt. Commander Delta Simms watched the kaleidoscope of energy on the main viewscreen as the Bluefin doggedly followed the faint ion trail left by the pirate vessel. She glanced over at Lt. (j.g.) K'lira Rune, the gamma shift operations officer. The Green Orion officer was peering intently into the sensor hood.
"How're we doing, K'lira?" asked Delta.
"I'm going to have a permanent crick in my neck by the time we chase down those pirates," replied Rune as she maintained her gaze into the sensor hood. "But at the current rate of ion decay and all of this background fuzz, I'll lose the trail in less than an hour."
Simms nodded and let out a breath. "Just hang in there, Lieutenant - maybe we'll get lucky."
"Commander?" Ensign Drii An'Shill, the Andorian helmsman spoke up softly.
"Yes Ensign?"
"Ma'am, even with the zig-zag course changes made by the pirate ship, we've been moving steadily toward the Doldrums."
Commander Simms stood and walked over to the helm and peered at An'Shill's board.
"Hmmm. I agree - that looks to be where they're headed alright."
"The Doldrums?" queried Lt. Shelton, puzzled.
Delta turned and smiled at the tactical officer. "Yes, the Doldrums, Mr. Shelton. It's an area of open space roughly in the center of the Molari Badlands. It's free of ion storms and gravitic disturbances - sort of like being in the eye of a hurricane."
"So - it's an area of 'smooth sailing,' then?"
"Not quite. Navigation is still tricky and it's impossible to send out a subspace signal. It's a bad place to get lost in. There are only a few star systems and no inhabitable planets. Still . . ." she turned back to the viewscreen and folded her arms. "It might make a good hidin' place for pirates."
"You don't sound entirely sure," continued Shelton.
"I'm not. Like I said, navigating the Doldrums is tricky business. It can give you a false sense of security 'cause the ride is much smoother, but you also get false sensor and navigational readings. Too many ships have blundered in there never be seen again - including a few Border Service cutters."
Shelton hesitated. "And . . .that's where we're going?"
"If that's where the pirates went, then yes, that's where we're going."
* * *
Captain's quarters
Joseph Akinola tossed in his bunk as a bizarre dream plagued his sleep.
He was once more on the Eku - alone, or so he thought. His footfalls rang dully on the metal grate-work of the engineering section, the only illumination provided by the harsh yellow glow of emergency lights.
"Hello? Is anyone on board?" His voice echoed through the ship, ringing slightly off the bulkheads.
Stepping around the cold and lifeless warp core, he was confronted by a strange, yet familiar alien creature.
The alien stood on four slender legs. It was covered with silky cream colored fur and wore what appeared to be a vest patched together with brightly-colored material. at the end of a long, slender neck was a head reminiscent of a Terran marsupial. Large, brown eyes regarded him with intelligent interest while a small, pink tongue darted furtively from its slender muzzle as if tasting the air. It rared up on its hind legs, balancing easily as it now stood nearly two meters tall. At the end of each fore-leg (fore-arm?) were small three-fingered hands that moved daintily, as if the creature were waving shyly at him.
Thought it did not speak, Akinola heard the alien's words clearly in his head.
"Once more we meet, child of Akinola-et. Feesh of the V'Griid I was and am."
Akinola regarded the creature with fascination. "You're the one who sent us back from . . . from wherever the Hell we were. But what happened to the Eku? Why am I the only one who remembers what happened."
"There was a bend in the circle, child of Akinola-et. Time flows not in a line but as ripples in a pond. Your now-circle remains open and re-folding, my young kith. Until this circle closes, all is not as it should be."
"I don't understand! What do you mean, 'all is not as it should be?' What am I supposed to do?" he demanded, feeling helpless and frustrated.
The creature bobbed its head. "There is now one who should not be. And one is not who should be. Attend well! You must complete that which is yet un-held, that you may be released from the here and the not-now. Only then will the now-circle unfold as it should."
You . . . do you mean the time-line? There's something wrong with this time-line - is that what you're trying to tell me?"
"Not a line, but a circle is warped, Akinola-et, a circle which opens and refolds. The not-circle must close so that the proper now-circle may open."
"But what am I supposed to do, dammit? Stop speaking in riddles!"
Feesh of the V'Griid merely regarded Akinola somberly, before fading from view.
"No! Wait!" He reached out, trying to grab the creature . . .
. . . and sat upright in his bunk, beads of perspiration covering his face.
* * *
Stardate 54335.2 (6 May 2377)
Pirate Ship G’laaq Toj’ma (Shade of Despair)
Star system NGC38819
Nora Cambiet, Master of the G'laaq Toj'ma sat in the dim light of her quarters wearing a self-satisfied smile. Vice-Governor Takeda had reacted to her demands in a laughably predictable manner. First, he made threats, then protests, followed by pleas for reason and more time. She had found the entire conversation amusing.
"I swear to you, if you harm my son, there's no corner of the galaxy dark enough or distant enough for you to hide!" he had blustered. But she had seen the fear in his eye, the sweat over his lips and had heard the tremor in his voice.
He would pay - of that, there was no doubt.
Of more concern to Cambiet were the owners of the Syndicate vessel whose crew she had murdered. While she feared no being, she was smart enough to know that the Syndicate was nothing if not relentless when it came to vengeance. In truth, she wondered why her own boss had ordered the massacre of the Orion crew. It would have been equally effective to test the plague virus on a passing freighter.
Perhaps her boss was sending a message.
Cambiet was not sure how she felt about that. Her's was the more direct approach - she preferred straight on confrontation and combat to skulking about and "sending messages." Hiding in this gods-forsaken star system galled her, but she was willing to acquiesce to the desires of her superior.
She smiled at the thought of that. Her boss was the only being in the quadrant that she even vaguely considered as "superior," and only because he was the one who bestowed on her the gift of augmented strength, intelligence and endurance. Though gratitude was a foreign concept to her, she was pragmatist enough to accept that he could remove her gift as easily as he had given it to her. And she had no intention of returning to her former life shrouded in fear and weakness.
Her comm terminal buzzed, interrupting her reverie. She stabbed the control and the face of her benefactor and boss appeared, a strong face framed with white hair. The man radiated quiet confidence and strength.
"Report," he ordered.
"I contacted Takeda. He'll pay the ransom."
The white-haired man nodded. "I had no doubt. But do not underestimate the Vice-Governor, Nora. Cornered men like cornered animals can be dangerous. He is resourceful, if nothing else."
She inclined her head in acknowledgment, though she doubted the Vice-Governor was a serious threat. "I will take precautions."
"See that you do. Oh, I should tell you, the Border Service has discovered your handiwork."
She smiled. "Not that there's much for them to go on."
"Perhaps not. Still, it is reasonable to assume they will pick up your trail soon enough."
"Yes - as you directed, I made it 'hard, but not impossible.'"
The white-haired man smiled. "Good. Send one of the Nausicans to make the pick-up. Use the shuttle I provided."
"What of the hostages? Shall I kill them?"
"No, I think I may find some use for them. However, feel free to dispose of the Vice-Governor. I dislike the man."
* * *
Stardate 54334.9 (5 May 2377)
Star Station Echo
Office of Admiral Morgan Bateson, Commander - 7th Border Service Squadron
Morgan Bateson stifled a yawn as he affixed his thumbprint to yet another PADD, approving a resupply requisition for the USS Avondale, a Soyuz - class cutter in his squadron. He flexed his hand gingerly and placed the data device on the tall stack of PADDS which leaned precariously on his desk, finally finished with his "paper" work for the day.
He stood and stretched his large frame, eliciting a pop from his spine. He grunted in pleasure, relieved to be through sitting at his desk. Days like these tended to make him long for the time when he commanded a ship. Alas, his days in the center seat of a Border Service cutter were behind him.
"Computer, dim lights," he ordered. The overhead panels in his office faded out, leaving only a small desk lamp for illumination. He was about to exit his office and head to his apartment, when his terminal chimed for attention.
With a sigh, Bateson wearily lowered himself into his chair and tapped the reply stud. "Yes, Lieutenant?"
The image of the Admiral's Andorian aide appeared on the screen, wearing an apologetic look.
"Sorry to bother you sir, but I have Admiral Bouvier standing by. The signal is coded priority one."
Bateson's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Put her through." Priority one indicated something serious, indeed.
The tight, narrow face of Admiral Bouvier appeared on Bateson's terminal. She did not look happy.
"Bateson - I need an update on the investigation of that weaponized plague virus. Do you have any leads?"
"Nothing new to report, Admiral. The Pompano is on station with the derelict Syndicate vessel, but we haven't learned anything more than what Captain Akinola's crew initially discovered." Bateson knew that he was taking a dig at Bouvier, but he really didn't give a damn.
Bouvier's eyes narrowed. "Let me make this clear, Bateson. You are to keep me apprised of any new information regarding the attack on the Syndicate ship, regardless of how significant it may seem to you. I expect updates every twelve hours . . . and more than that, I expect some significant progress!"
Bateson's face flushed with indignation. "Admiral, with all due respect, reassigning Bluefin cost us valuable time in making progress on this investigation. We will get more done if you'll give us some room to do our jobs."
"I don't see the job getting done, Admiral Bateson. But I promise you this - if I feel this way the same time tomorrow, I'll have you replaced with someone who can! Bouvier, out."
Before Bateson could reply, the channel was cut and the Admiral found himself staring at a blank screen.
"Damn that insufferable woman!" he muttered.
* * *
Stardate 54335.1 (6 May 2377)
USS Bluefin
Transiting the Molari Badlands
Bridge
Lt. Commander Delta Simms watched the kaleidoscope of energy on the main viewscreen as the Bluefin doggedly followed the faint ion trail left by the pirate vessel. She glanced over at Lt. (j.g.) K'lira Rune, the gamma shift operations officer. The Green Orion officer was peering intently into the sensor hood.
"How're we doing, K'lira?" asked Delta.
"I'm going to have a permanent crick in my neck by the time we chase down those pirates," replied Rune as she maintained her gaze into the sensor hood. "But at the current rate of ion decay and all of this background fuzz, I'll lose the trail in less than an hour."
Simms nodded and let out a breath. "Just hang in there, Lieutenant - maybe we'll get lucky."
"Commander?" Ensign Drii An'Shill, the Andorian helmsman spoke up softly.
"Yes Ensign?"
"Ma'am, even with the zig-zag course changes made by the pirate ship, we've been moving steadily toward the Doldrums."
Commander Simms stood and walked over to the helm and peered at An'Shill's board.
"Hmmm. I agree - that looks to be where they're headed alright."
"The Doldrums?" queried Lt. Shelton, puzzled.
Delta turned and smiled at the tactical officer. "Yes, the Doldrums, Mr. Shelton. It's an area of open space roughly in the center of the Molari Badlands. It's free of ion storms and gravitic disturbances - sort of like being in the eye of a hurricane."
"So - it's an area of 'smooth sailing,' then?"
"Not quite. Navigation is still tricky and it's impossible to send out a subspace signal. It's a bad place to get lost in. There are only a few star systems and no inhabitable planets. Still . . ." she turned back to the viewscreen and folded her arms. "It might make a good hidin' place for pirates."
"You don't sound entirely sure," continued Shelton.
"I'm not. Like I said, navigating the Doldrums is tricky business. It can give you a false sense of security 'cause the ride is much smoother, but you also get false sensor and navigational readings. Too many ships have blundered in there never be seen again - including a few Border Service cutters."
Shelton hesitated. "And . . .that's where we're going?"
"If that's where the pirates went, then yes, that's where we're going."
* * *
Captain's quarters
Joseph Akinola tossed in his bunk as a bizarre dream plagued his sleep.
He was once more on the Eku - alone, or so he thought. His footfalls rang dully on the metal grate-work of the engineering section, the only illumination provided by the harsh yellow glow of emergency lights.
"Hello? Is anyone on board?" His voice echoed through the ship, ringing slightly off the bulkheads.
Stepping around the cold and lifeless warp core, he was confronted by a strange, yet familiar alien creature.
The alien stood on four slender legs. It was covered with silky cream colored fur and wore what appeared to be a vest patched together with brightly-colored material. at the end of a long, slender neck was a head reminiscent of a Terran marsupial. Large, brown eyes regarded him with intelligent interest while a small, pink tongue darted furtively from its slender muzzle as if tasting the air. It rared up on its hind legs, balancing easily as it now stood nearly two meters tall. At the end of each fore-leg (fore-arm?) were small three-fingered hands that moved daintily, as if the creature were waving shyly at him.
Thought it did not speak, Akinola heard the alien's words clearly in his head.
"Once more we meet, child of Akinola-et. Feesh of the V'Griid I was and am."
Akinola regarded the creature with fascination. "You're the one who sent us back from . . . from wherever the Hell we were. But what happened to the Eku? Why am I the only one who remembers what happened."
"There was a bend in the circle, child of Akinola-et. Time flows not in a line but as ripples in a pond. Your now-circle remains open and re-folding, my young kith. Until this circle closes, all is not as it should be."
"I don't understand! What do you mean, 'all is not as it should be?' What am I supposed to do?" he demanded, feeling helpless and frustrated.
The creature bobbed its head. "There is now one who should not be. And one is not who should be. Attend well! You must complete that which is yet un-held, that you may be released from the here and the not-now. Only then will the now-circle unfold as it should."
You . . . do you mean the time-line? There's something wrong with this time-line - is that what you're trying to tell me?"
"Not a line, but a circle is warped, Akinola-et, a circle which opens and refolds. The not-circle must close so that the proper now-circle may open."
"But what am I supposed to do, dammit? Stop speaking in riddles!"
Feesh of the V'Griid merely regarded Akinola somberly, before fading from view.
"No! Wait!" He reached out, trying to grab the creature . . .
. . . and sat upright in his bunk, beads of perspiration covering his face.
* * *
Stardate 54335.2 (6 May 2377)
Pirate Ship G’laaq Toj’ma (Shade of Despair)
Star system NGC38819
Nora Cambiet, Master of the G'laaq Toj'ma sat in the dim light of her quarters wearing a self-satisfied smile. Vice-Governor Takeda had reacted to her demands in a laughably predictable manner. First, he made threats, then protests, followed by pleas for reason and more time. She had found the entire conversation amusing.
"I swear to you, if you harm my son, there's no corner of the galaxy dark enough or distant enough for you to hide!" he had blustered. But she had seen the fear in his eye, the sweat over his lips and had heard the tremor in his voice.
He would pay - of that, there was no doubt.
Of more concern to Cambiet were the owners of the Syndicate vessel whose crew she had murdered. While she feared no being, she was smart enough to know that the Syndicate was nothing if not relentless when it came to vengeance. In truth, she wondered why her own boss had ordered the massacre of the Orion crew. It would have been equally effective to test the plague virus on a passing freighter.
Perhaps her boss was sending a message.
Cambiet was not sure how she felt about that. Her's was the more direct approach - she preferred straight on confrontation and combat to skulking about and "sending messages." Hiding in this gods-forsaken star system galled her, but she was willing to acquiesce to the desires of her superior.
She smiled at the thought of that. Her boss was the only being in the quadrant that she even vaguely considered as "superior," and only because he was the one who bestowed on her the gift of augmented strength, intelligence and endurance. Though gratitude was a foreign concept to her, she was pragmatist enough to accept that he could remove her gift as easily as he had given it to her. And she had no intention of returning to her former life shrouded in fear and weakness.
Her comm terminal buzzed, interrupting her reverie. She stabbed the control and the face of her benefactor and boss appeared, a strong face framed with white hair. The man radiated quiet confidence and strength.
"Report," he ordered.
"I contacted Takeda. He'll pay the ransom."
The white-haired man nodded. "I had no doubt. But do not underestimate the Vice-Governor, Nora. Cornered men like cornered animals can be dangerous. He is resourceful, if nothing else."
She inclined her head in acknowledgment, though she doubted the Vice-Governor was a serious threat. "I will take precautions."
"See that you do. Oh, I should tell you, the Border Service has discovered your handiwork."
She smiled. "Not that there's much for them to go on."
"Perhaps not. Still, it is reasonable to assume they will pick up your trail soon enough."
"Yes - as you directed, I made it 'hard, but not impossible.'"
The white-haired man smiled. "Good. Send one of the Nausicans to make the pick-up. Use the shuttle I provided."
"What of the hostages? Shall I kill them?"
"No, I think I may find some use for them. However, feel free to dispose of the Vice-Governor. I dislike the man."
* * *
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Well, well, well.
Shades of the past are revisited, and do we have our mysterious former Starfleet officer in the mix too?
This should be very interesting.
Shades of the past are revisited, and do we have our mysterious former Starfleet officer in the mix too?
This should be very interesting.
Intriguing. Can't wait for the next installment.
Top notch stuff. As per usual. great to see references to the mystery surrounding Eku. But very ominous too ... wonder where this is headed.
And concur with BrotherBenny if a certain former Starfleet Officer in the person I'm thinking robed in white this could become very interesting as his games and machinations are never too clear cut and have caused trouble before. But heck, it's interesting already!
With Akinola getting these visions I wonder will his game be off as he might be distracted. Also, Bateson getting short shrift is disconcerting. It seems even Bouvier can be a little worried and is pushing the issue. But love how bateson gets a few pointed jabs in before she cuts the comm. Oh I'd love to see her get her come-uppance but that would probably come at the cost of some poor unfortunates like the Bluefin.
Crew doing fairly well with new positions and persons. Already we're seeing Delta gaining props as she gains more experience and I am liking, but the Doldrums sound like a place to plan a trap and with the dubious mental state of Shelton also to consider, I wonder how things will pan out.
And concur with BrotherBenny if a certain former Starfleet Officer in the person I'm thinking robed in white this could become very interesting as his games and machinations are never too clear cut and have caused trouble before. But heck, it's interesting already!
With Akinola getting these visions I wonder will his game be off as he might be distracted. Also, Bateson getting short shrift is disconcerting. It seems even Bouvier can be a little worried and is pushing the issue. But love how bateson gets a few pointed jabs in before she cuts the comm. Oh I'd love to see her get her come-uppance but that would probably come at the cost of some poor unfortunates like the Bluefin.
Crew doing fairly well with new positions and persons. Already we're seeing Delta gaining props as she gains more experience and I am liking, but the Doldrums sound like a place to plan a trap and with the dubious mental state of Shelton also to consider, I wonder how things will pan out.
It seems everything is going according to plan. Unfortunately for Akinola and Bluefin it's the wrong plan.
A great segment with a number of fascinating developments. Akinola gets another lesson on why time travel is so damn frustrating. Now he'll have to deal with a broken time line/circle and the only person who can help him talks in riddles. No problems there, then.
And the augmented pirates and their mysterious (maybe even time displaced?) leader might turn out to be Bluefin's toughest antagonists yet.
All very cool stuff.
A great segment with a number of fascinating developments. Akinola gets another lesson on why time travel is so damn frustrating. Now he'll have to deal with a broken time line/circle and the only person who can help him talks in riddles. No problems there, then.
And the augmented pirates and their mysterious (maybe even time displaced?) leader might turn out to be Bluefin's toughest antagonists yet.
All very cool stuff.
This chapter was well worth the wait. 
As the others have commented already, there's plenty of goodies here to sift through. And if our mysterious new antagonist is who many of us appear to suspect, there's no telling how dangerous Cambiet might be, or what abilities she may have been endowed with.
I tried to savor this like fine wine, but ended up gulping it like a parched man whose just come upon an oasis.
Great stuff!
As the others have commented already, there's plenty of goodies here to sift through. And if our mysterious new antagonist is who many of us appear to suspect, there's no telling how dangerous Cambiet might be, or what abilities she may have been endowed with.I tried to savor this like fine wine, but ended up gulping it like a parched man whose just come upon an oasis.
Great stuff!
Chapter Ten
Stardate 54335.2 (6 May 2377)
USS Bluefin
Transiting the Molari Badlands
Lt. Commander Simms was not particularly surprised when Captain Akinola stepped onto the bridge from the turbolift. She had become accustomed to his nocturnal ramblings, the byproduct of his frequent bouts of insomnia.
"What's our status, Delta?" queried the Captain.
"Still following the ion trail of the pirate ship. It seems they headed into the Doldrums," she replied.
Akinola grunted. "Figures. It's a great place to disappear." He stifled a yawn. "I better send an update back to Echo before we lose communications. I'll be in my ready room if you need me."
"Yes sir."
Akinola entered his office and settled heavily into his chair. He was still troubled by the strange dream of the enigmatic alien, but it was just a dream after all, wasn't it?
He tapped his combadge. "Akinola to Lt. Rune."
"Rune - go ahead."
"Lieutenant, open a channel to the station and contact Admiral Bateson's office," he glanced at the chronometer and winced, "The Admiral is probably in his quarters, but see if one of his aides is on duty. Let me know when you have someone standing by."
"Aye sir."
Akinola supposed he should have sent an update earlier, but he was somewhat fearful that he and Bluefin might once more be pulled off the trail and replaced by another cutter. He figured that Admiral Bouvier had something to do with their earlier reassignment and that Morgan Bateson was not at fault. Still, easier to get forgiveness than permission to proceed, he mused.
His combadge chirped. "Captain, I have Lt. Varnosh standing by," announced Rune.
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Please patch him through to my terminal."
Momentarily, the image of Admiral Bateson's aide appeared on Akinola's computer screen. Lt. Varnosh had a high forehead and his antennae moved slightly, as if stirred by a breeze.
"Captain Akinola - how may I be of assistance?"
"I don't suppose your boss is still in the office?"
Varnosh smiled. "No sir - he left about an hour ago. Do you wish me to patch you through to him?"
Akinola considered the offer a moment before shaking his head. "No, I suppose not. Just leave a message that we located the missing yacht and it appears that the four teenagers were taken by pirates and they headed into the Doldrums. We're currently following their ion trail. Oh - be sure to tell the Admiral that it looks like the pirates were likely involved in the deaths of the Syndicate crew. We found traces of the plague on the yacht."
"Understood, sir. I'll be sure to pass this along to the Admiral in the morning. Do you desire back-up?"
"No - by the time another cutter could catch up to us, we'd lose the trail. Besides, we'll be unable to communicate once we cross into the Doldrums. I'll transmit our coordinates. If you don't hear from us again in, say . . . 48 hours, you might want to send someone looking for us."
"Yes sir. Is there anything else, Captain?"
"No, I'm transmitting a more detailed report and our coordinates now. Hopefully, I'll be talking with you in a couple of days."
The Andorian nodded. "Good luck, Captain."
"Thanks, Varnosh. Bluefin, out." Akinola closed the channel and leaned back in his chair. He stared out the viewport at the colorful tendrils of energy that whirled around the cutter as they plowed ahead through the badlands. His eyelids grew heavy and soon he fell asleep.
And once more, he began to dream . . .
* * *
Stardate 54335.3 (6 May 2377)
Pirate Ship G’laaq Toj’ma (Shade of Despair)
Star system NGC38819
Kinjo Takeda feigned sleep as one of the pirates entered his cell and placed a tray of food near his mat. When the door clanged shut, Kinjo sat up and inspected the food. Whatever it was apparently came from an obsolete protein resequencer that was in bad need of repair.
He picked up a spongy gray piece of meat and sniffed it. Tentatively, he took a bite. It had little taste and was tough and chewy, but he forced it down anyway, figuring it was unlikely he would get anything better. There was a bowl of some sort of broth and a slice of brown bread. He drank down the tepid broth and tore off bits of the bread while taking stock of his surroundings.
His cell was littered with odd bits of machinery, data solids and broken furniture. Aside from a small waste 'cycler in the corner, there was nothing to provide for his comfort, save the thin mat on which he lay.
He got up and went to the door, hesitating before touching it. He took his last piece of bread and tossed it at the door. The bread hit the hatch and dropped to the deck. At least there was no force field present.
Kinjo inspected the door, which was made of some heavy metal. There were no obvious controls or release mechanisms apparent.
His eyes were drawn to a small panel near the door. He reached into his pocket for his multi-tool, but apparently the pirates had confiscated it. Frowning, he turned to the pile of debris and began to rummage through the leavings. While there were no pieces of metal or wire suitable to make a weapon, he found some thin duraplast wafers used for circuit boards. He sorted through several until he found a rather sturdy but thin piece.
The boy took the plastic and began to pry at the panel. His tongue worked over his lips as he concentrated on his work, finally managing to loosen a corner of the panel. He worked the duraplast under the panel, using it like a pry bar until he finally was able to remove the panel cover.
Under the panel, Kinjo found a jumble of conduits and couplings which hummed with power. He fished his hand through the wiring, aware that a wrong move might bring about a lethal jolt. Finally, he found a set of cables that brought a smile to his lips.
The young computer hacker moved back to the pile of discarded circuits and began to search with renewed energy and the first faint tendrils of hope.
* * *
Stardate 54335.4 (6 May 2377)
New Kyoto, Molari IV
Residence of Vice-Governor Hiru Takeda
"Mr. Takeda, I strongly urge you to reconsider - you are likely walking into a trap!"
Vice-Governor Hiru Takeda turned and glared at Chief Inspector Timothy McGrath of the Molari IV Constabulary.
"Would you have me ignore their demands, McGrath? Sit here and do nothing? These pirates have threatened my son! I will not stand by and do nothing."
The veteran cop and former intelligence officer kept his tone calm. He leaned forward in his chair and gazed intently at the politician. "I know you want your son back, Mr. Takeda. That's what we all want. But going into the badlands on your own to deliver the ransom is suicide! Those pirates will take your gold-pressed latinum, cut off your head and then kill your son . . . or worse."
Takeda threw up his hands in frustration. "Then what would you have me do, Chief Inspector? That damned woman plans to ship Kinjo home a piece at a time if I don't comply, and I got the distinct impression she would enjoy it!"
McGrath nodded sympathetically. "I don't propose that we sit idly by. The pirates expect you to rendezvous with them in just under 24 hours. You'll make that appointment . . . but not alone."
The Vice-Governor shook his head vigorously. "No - they demanded I come alone or they would kill Kinjo and the others. I took a risk merely contacting you."
"They will believe you're alone, Mr. Takeda - that I promise. I have a plan - it will be dangerous, but it has a good chance of success. Here's what I propose we do . . ."
* * *
Stardate 54335.3 (6 May 2377)
USS Bluefin
Transiting the Molari Badlands
Captain's Ready Room
In his dream, Akinola was again on the Eku. He found himself in the main corridor near his old quarters, the space was dark, save for the glow of the emergency lamps.
Two eyes glowed from the darkness of his old cabin. Momentarily, the V'griid stepped forward out of Akinola's quarters - this time remaining on all four limbs. To Akinola, the creature looked like a cross between a kangaroo and a gazelle, except for the almost human-like digits on its extremities.
Feesh of the V'griid wore a somber expression as it stood silently before Akinola.
"Well? Do you have nothing more to say to me? No more riddles?" challenged the Captain.
"Difficult to communicate with one so young," began Feesh. Akinola sensed, rather than heard the admonishment. "Too quickly you seek answers without knowing the questions."
"Look," began Akinola, now thoroughly annoyed, "I don't know why you're showing up in my dreams like this, but to be honest, I could use a good night's sleep. So if it's all the same to you . . ."
FLASH
Akinola blinked. He was back in his ready room on the Bluefin. The odd dream was already fading, like fog on a sunny morning.
He checked the chronometer and saw that it was just past 0300, ship's time. Still time to hit the rack, he thought wryly.
He exited the ready room, nodding at Lt. Commander Simms.
"I'm going back to my quarters, Delta, see you in a few hours."
"Rest well, sir," she replied.
The turbolift hummed as it descended to his deck. He yawned expansively as he walked around the curved corridor to his quarters and entered.
As the door slid shut behind him, Akinola came to an abrupt halt.
Feesh of the V'Griid stood in his cabin, regarding him with what appeared to be a bemused expression.
"Out of your dreams and into your circle, I have come," spoke the creature into Akinola's mind. "Now, hear me you can and hear me you must, young Akinola-et."
* * *
Stardate 54335.2 (6 May 2377)
USS Bluefin
Transiting the Molari Badlands
Lt. Commander Simms was not particularly surprised when Captain Akinola stepped onto the bridge from the turbolift. She had become accustomed to his nocturnal ramblings, the byproduct of his frequent bouts of insomnia.
"What's our status, Delta?" queried the Captain.
"Still following the ion trail of the pirate ship. It seems they headed into the Doldrums," she replied.
Akinola grunted. "Figures. It's a great place to disappear." He stifled a yawn. "I better send an update back to Echo before we lose communications. I'll be in my ready room if you need me."
"Yes sir."
Akinola entered his office and settled heavily into his chair. He was still troubled by the strange dream of the enigmatic alien, but it was just a dream after all, wasn't it?
He tapped his combadge. "Akinola to Lt. Rune."
"Rune - go ahead."
"Lieutenant, open a channel to the station and contact Admiral Bateson's office," he glanced at the chronometer and winced, "The Admiral is probably in his quarters, but see if one of his aides is on duty. Let me know when you have someone standing by."
"Aye sir."
Akinola supposed he should have sent an update earlier, but he was somewhat fearful that he and Bluefin might once more be pulled off the trail and replaced by another cutter. He figured that Admiral Bouvier had something to do with their earlier reassignment and that Morgan Bateson was not at fault. Still, easier to get forgiveness than permission to proceed, he mused.
His combadge chirped. "Captain, I have Lt. Varnosh standing by," announced Rune.
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Please patch him through to my terminal."
Momentarily, the image of Admiral Bateson's aide appeared on Akinola's computer screen. Lt. Varnosh had a high forehead and his antennae moved slightly, as if stirred by a breeze.
"Captain Akinola - how may I be of assistance?"
"I don't suppose your boss is still in the office?"
Varnosh smiled. "No sir - he left about an hour ago. Do you wish me to patch you through to him?"
Akinola considered the offer a moment before shaking his head. "No, I suppose not. Just leave a message that we located the missing yacht and it appears that the four teenagers were taken by pirates and they headed into the Doldrums. We're currently following their ion trail. Oh - be sure to tell the Admiral that it looks like the pirates were likely involved in the deaths of the Syndicate crew. We found traces of the plague on the yacht."
"Understood, sir. I'll be sure to pass this along to the Admiral in the morning. Do you desire back-up?"
"No - by the time another cutter could catch up to us, we'd lose the trail. Besides, we'll be unable to communicate once we cross into the Doldrums. I'll transmit our coordinates. If you don't hear from us again in, say . . . 48 hours, you might want to send someone looking for us."
"Yes sir. Is there anything else, Captain?"
"No, I'm transmitting a more detailed report and our coordinates now. Hopefully, I'll be talking with you in a couple of days."
The Andorian nodded. "Good luck, Captain."
"Thanks, Varnosh. Bluefin, out." Akinola closed the channel and leaned back in his chair. He stared out the viewport at the colorful tendrils of energy that whirled around the cutter as they plowed ahead through the badlands. His eyelids grew heavy and soon he fell asleep.
And once more, he began to dream . . .
* * *
Stardate 54335.3 (6 May 2377)
Pirate Ship G’laaq Toj’ma (Shade of Despair)
Star system NGC38819
Kinjo Takeda feigned sleep as one of the pirates entered his cell and placed a tray of food near his mat. When the door clanged shut, Kinjo sat up and inspected the food. Whatever it was apparently came from an obsolete protein resequencer that was in bad need of repair.
He picked up a spongy gray piece of meat and sniffed it. Tentatively, he took a bite. It had little taste and was tough and chewy, but he forced it down anyway, figuring it was unlikely he would get anything better. There was a bowl of some sort of broth and a slice of brown bread. He drank down the tepid broth and tore off bits of the bread while taking stock of his surroundings.
His cell was littered with odd bits of machinery, data solids and broken furniture. Aside from a small waste 'cycler in the corner, there was nothing to provide for his comfort, save the thin mat on which he lay.
He got up and went to the door, hesitating before touching it. He took his last piece of bread and tossed it at the door. The bread hit the hatch and dropped to the deck. At least there was no force field present.
Kinjo inspected the door, which was made of some heavy metal. There were no obvious controls or release mechanisms apparent.
His eyes were drawn to a small panel near the door. He reached into his pocket for his multi-tool, but apparently the pirates had confiscated it. Frowning, he turned to the pile of debris and began to rummage through the leavings. While there were no pieces of metal or wire suitable to make a weapon, he found some thin duraplast wafers used for circuit boards. He sorted through several until he found a rather sturdy but thin piece.
The boy took the plastic and began to pry at the panel. His tongue worked over his lips as he concentrated on his work, finally managing to loosen a corner of the panel. He worked the duraplast under the panel, using it like a pry bar until he finally was able to remove the panel cover.
Under the panel, Kinjo found a jumble of conduits and couplings which hummed with power. He fished his hand through the wiring, aware that a wrong move might bring about a lethal jolt. Finally, he found a set of cables that brought a smile to his lips.
The young computer hacker moved back to the pile of discarded circuits and began to search with renewed energy and the first faint tendrils of hope.
* * *
Stardate 54335.4 (6 May 2377)
New Kyoto, Molari IV
Residence of Vice-Governor Hiru Takeda
"Mr. Takeda, I strongly urge you to reconsider - you are likely walking into a trap!"
Vice-Governor Hiru Takeda turned and glared at Chief Inspector Timothy McGrath of the Molari IV Constabulary.
"Would you have me ignore their demands, McGrath? Sit here and do nothing? These pirates have threatened my son! I will not stand by and do nothing."
The veteran cop and former intelligence officer kept his tone calm. He leaned forward in his chair and gazed intently at the politician. "I know you want your son back, Mr. Takeda. That's what we all want. But going into the badlands on your own to deliver the ransom is suicide! Those pirates will take your gold-pressed latinum, cut off your head and then kill your son . . . or worse."
Takeda threw up his hands in frustration. "Then what would you have me do, Chief Inspector? That damned woman plans to ship Kinjo home a piece at a time if I don't comply, and I got the distinct impression she would enjoy it!"
McGrath nodded sympathetically. "I don't propose that we sit idly by. The pirates expect you to rendezvous with them in just under 24 hours. You'll make that appointment . . . but not alone."
The Vice-Governor shook his head vigorously. "No - they demanded I come alone or they would kill Kinjo and the others. I took a risk merely contacting you."
"They will believe you're alone, Mr. Takeda - that I promise. I have a plan - it will be dangerous, but it has a good chance of success. Here's what I propose we do . . ."
* * *
Stardate 54335.3 (6 May 2377)
USS Bluefin
Transiting the Molari Badlands
Captain's Ready Room
In his dream, Akinola was again on the Eku. He found himself in the main corridor near his old quarters, the space was dark, save for the glow of the emergency lamps.
Two eyes glowed from the darkness of his old cabin. Momentarily, the V'griid stepped forward out of Akinola's quarters - this time remaining on all four limbs. To Akinola, the creature looked like a cross between a kangaroo and a gazelle, except for the almost human-like digits on its extremities.
Feesh of the V'griid wore a somber expression as it stood silently before Akinola.
"Well? Do you have nothing more to say to me? No more riddles?" challenged the Captain.
"Difficult to communicate with one so young," began Feesh. Akinola sensed, rather than heard the admonishment. "Too quickly you seek answers without knowing the questions."
"Look," began Akinola, now thoroughly annoyed, "I don't know why you're showing up in my dreams like this, but to be honest, I could use a good night's sleep. So if it's all the same to you . . ."
FLASH
Akinola blinked. He was back in his ready room on the Bluefin. The odd dream was already fading, like fog on a sunny morning.
He checked the chronometer and saw that it was just past 0300, ship's time. Still time to hit the rack, he thought wryly.
He exited the ready room, nodding at Lt. Commander Simms.
"I'm going back to my quarters, Delta, see you in a few hours."
"Rest well, sir," she replied.
The turbolift hummed as it descended to his deck. He yawned expansively as he walked around the curved corridor to his quarters and entered.
As the door slid shut behind him, Akinola came to an abrupt halt.
Feesh of the V'Griid stood in his cabin, regarding him with what appeared to be a bemused expression.
"Out of your dreams and into your circle, I have come," spoke the creature into Akinola's mind. "Now, hear me you can and hear me you must, young Akinola-et."
* * *
Wow... more and more complex, circles within circles as all these independent actors move closer towards what will most likely prove an explosive convergence.
This could be interesting!
Now, I know I HAVE had dreams-within-dreams like that. To me, the telling thing was that the clock seemed to have reset. I know at least when I get into that state, I tend to notice weird things with clocks. Don't know if that happens to anyone else...
Reminds me of THIS: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqHaxG0ByTQ
Interesting, too, to see Kinjo trying to save himself. That could either go really well, or REALLY backfire.
Now, I know I HAVE had dreams-within-dreams like that. To me, the telling thing was that the clock seemed to have reset. I know at least when I get into that state, I tend to notice weird things with clocks. Don't know if that happens to anyone else...
Reminds me of THIS: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqHaxG0ByTQ
Interesting, too, to see Kinjo trying to save himself. That could either go really well, or REALLY backfire.
The Chief Inspector has a plan, has he? General Custer had a plan, too. And that didn't work out so well.
Fortunately Bluefin will be around to hopefully bail them out. Of course Akinola has his own minor problems ... like the corruption of the time line.
All fun stuff.
Fortunately Bluefin will be around to hopefully bail them out. Of course Akinola has his own minor problems ... like the corruption of the time line.
All fun stuff.
By the way, I love the fact that there's a Chief Inspector in your story. In know it's a real rank but I know it best from a parody of the old German Edgar Wallace movies, in which my favourite comedian plays the Chief Inspector, so when I read that I couldn't help but smile.
Got 2 chapters at once-missed a post, it seems. Very juicy. haven't a clue who the others think the white-haired man is, though. Guess I'm dense. Great pair of chapters-and i like that the Eku incident still resonates in you stories. Funny, I remember you referring to it at one point as a "one-off" tale but it's proving vital to the future of Bluefin stories. Interesting.
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