Tales of the USS Bluefin - 2: Storms and Shadows

[TheLoneRedshirt]

If you have not read "Semper Paratus: Tales of the USS Bluefin," I would encourage you to read it first, or at least the introduction, to get a feel for the characters.

In a nutshell, the USS Bluefin is a small Border Services Cutter serving in the Borderlands between Klingon, Federation and Orion space. The time period is the immediate post-Dominion War era, when much of the Alpha Quadrant is in disarray. Captain Joseph B. Akinola is CO of the 70 year old ship with his crew of 120. I invite you to come along for the second story in the Bluefin saga.

And sorry, there's no holodeck or replicators on this ship, so you better pack a lunch or make friends with Cookie, the ship's cook.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Storms and Shadows

The Border Services Cutter, USS Bluefin , glided silently through the darkness of sector 324 on routine patrol. Fresh from a recent stint in space dock at Star Station Echo, the crew of the Bluefin was looking forward to more routine duties such as search & rescue and tending to subspace relay buoys. Their recent encounter with a renegade Klingon ship with its plasma cannon had cost them the lives of many friends and colleagues aboard the USS Kilimanjaro . Their physical scars were healing nicely, but the same was not true for all of the emotional scars.

Commander Inga Strauss, the young, very petite executive officer of the Bluefin finished her workout in the ship's gym with some stretching exercises. She glanced at the wall-mounted chronometer and saw that she still had over an hour before her duty shift began. She decided she had enough time for breakfast in the wardroom before showering and heading to the bridge.

As she entered the wardroom, carrying a tray with coffee, orange juice, wheat toast (no butter) and Rigellian blue-melon slices, she saw that Lt. Commander T'Ser, the "emotional" Vulcan OPS officer was already seated, a data PADD in her hand. Strauss sat down across from T'Ser and marvelled at the large plate of food in front of the Vulcan woman.

"T'Ser - how on Earth can you eat so much and stay so slim?" Strauss indicated a plate filled with eggs, Belgian waffles, bacon, fruit and hash brown potatoes.

T'Ser, engrossed in the PADD she was reading, stabbed a piece of waffle with a fork and said simply, "Vulcan metabolism."

Strauss sat down and surveyed her own, meager breakfast. She was a very pretty, blond Human, barely 30 years of age. Her short stature had been as asset when she was an Olympic caliber gymnast almost 15 years earlier. Now, she wished she were taller and constantly fretted over her diet, afraid of getting fat. "Well, I have to deal with my short, Human metabolism."

T'Ser looked up, an eyebrow raised. "How can your metabolism be 'short'?"

"Never mind." Strauss took a bite of toast. At that moment, Lt. Nigel Bane entered the wardroom carrying a tray also loaded down with food. He was a tall, trim man of Australian descent with handsome features and sandy blond hair. Strauss wondered how he managed to have such a nice tan, serving on a star ship.

"G'day commanders!" he said brightly. Strauss returned the greeting while T'Ser merely grunted and kept reading her PADD.

"Anything interesting happen on Alpha shift?" Strauss asked T'Ser.

The Vulcan continued reading the PADD, but answered, "We replaced two Type 16 Subspace Relay Buoys, and Commander Gralt submitted a report complaining that the ship yard did, and I quote, a 'Yariq-assed job of installing the new warp coils.' Besides that, it was pretty dull."

Strauss smiled at that. Gralt, their crusty Tellarite chief engineer often used colorful language. He was something of a tyrant in engineering but he was still well-liked by the officers and crew of the Bluefin . As she continued to nibble at her breakfast, she occasionally glanced at the Aussie lieutenant down the table. Bane seemed to be in a hurry as he wolfed down his food quickly. He placed his tray in the disposal slot and sauntered out of the room.

"He is nice looking, isn't he?" said T'Ser.

Strauss blushed. "What? Lt. Bane? Why, I hadn't really noticed."

T'Ser smiled. "You noticed. I saw you stir your coffee with a piece of melon while you were staring at him."

"I wasn't staring!" Strauss protested. She paused, a worried expression on her face. "Did I really stir my coffee with a piece of fruit?" she asked, plaintively.

"You did. But don't worry, I don't think Nigel noticed. He's almost always in a hurry like that. If you want to talk to him, I think you're going to have to trip him or something."

Strauss looked back at T'Ser. "Do you think it would be appropriate? I mean, I'm his superior officer."

T'Ser shrugged. "Why not? You're both officers, you're about the same age, you're obviously horny."

" T'Ser! I am NOT . . . well, you know, THAT! "

T'Ser regarded her with a deadpan expression. "Okay, if you say so." She returned her attention to her PADD.

Strauss regarded her friend. "T'Ser, what kind of man do you like?"

T'Ser continued reading her PADD. "Oh, you know, one with a pulse."

*****************************

Captain Joseph B. Akinola, a 59 year old human of African descent, was reading a report when the buzzer to his ready room door sounded.

"Come!" he said.

Commander Strauss, now showered and dressed in uniform, entered with a PADD under her arm. Akinola smiled at his young XO.

"Good morning, commander," he said.

"Morning, sir. I was wondering if I could go over some duty roster adjustments I've made to Beta shift."

"Fine, fine. But first, I just learned something interesting about our Klingon renegade that you sent off to Sto'Vo'Kor last month. Want to hear it?"

The captain's cavalier reference to the Klingon ship she helped destroy caught her off-guard. She still had bad dreams about the battle that day. Strauss forced a smile and said, "Certainly, sir."

"I had learned that Krell, our renegade commander, was from the disenfranchised house of K'Tinga. The name rang a bell, but I did not make a connection until I read the report from the Klingon command. It seems this was the house of Thought Admiral K'Tinga, one of the most famous Klingon warriors of the past 500 years."

"Really?" asked Strauss, genuinely interested. "So how did the house fall out of favor? I understand that's a pretty big deal in Klingon culture."

Akinola gave Strauss a meaningful look. "Oh yes, it's a
huge deal! It's the ultimate shame to have one's house disenfranchised. Most Klingons would prefer death before dishonor." he paused, looking at his computer screen. "It seems that Krell's father, Pralq, was part of the group that tried to overthrow the chancellor a few years back, causing the Klingon civil war. As you know, the loyalists shut that rebellion down. Many of the rebels were killed, including Pralq. His son, Krell, was spared for some reason, but the house was dissolved. I guess the shame was too much for Krell. He became a privateer for a while, attacking Klingon merchant vessels and living on the run, until, well . . ."

Akinola left unspoken what they both knew too well. Krell's ship had attacked and destroyed the USS Kilimanjaro killing Akinola's close friend, Captain Vress.

Strauss frowned, both at the memory and a thought that had troubled her. "Sir, I still don't understand the reason for Krell's actions in the Molari Belt. I mean, I know he was trying to frame the Orion Syndicate for the attack, but why do that?"

Akinola gave a tight smile. "You've asked the million credit question, commander."

*********************************

Although Strauss did not exactly miss the stress and abject terror that she had experienced the previous month when they battled the renegade Klingon, she was beginning to realize that serving on a cutter also entailed periods of tedium.

Seated in the command chair of the compact bridge, she was beginning to hope for something, anything out of the ordinary, to break the monotony. She soon had her wish granted.

"Commander?" Ensign Vashtee spoke up from the communications station, a frown on her dark features. "We're being hailed by an Orion Raider."

Strauss was surprised, as was the rest of the bridge crew. Generally, any Orion Syndicate ship would take special pains to avoid the notice of a Border Service vessel. To be hailed by a Raider was almost unheard of.

"Are they in distress, Ensign?" Strauss asked.

"Negative, commander, although they are asking specifically to speak to Captain Akinola." said Vashtee.

"Well then, page the captain. Mr. Ryan, raise shields. Are their weapons on line?"

"No ma'am," replied Ryan, "Their weapons are off-line and their shields are lowered."

Strauss frowned "Ensign Vashtee, put them on-screen."

The star field on the main view screen was quickly replaced by the view of another ship's bridge. The lighting was dim and it was difficult to make out much detail, but there were three figures in view. Seated in a garishly ornate command chair, was a burly Red-Orion male, dressed in a flamboyant robe. He wore the traditional face scars identifying his clan and status. By the intricacies of the scar patterns, he was advanced in rank. He wore a smile on his face and he seemed perfectly at ease.

Strauss spoke first, deciding to take an aggressive posture. "This is Commander Inga Strauss, executive officer of the Border Service Cutter, USS Bluefin . Identify yourselves and your business."

The Orion appeared unperturbed. "Ah, Commander! I am Lortho Elix, Supreme of the vessel Troshmaran . I was hoping to speak to Captain Akinola - he is an old friend and I desired to pass along some helpful information."

"Why don't you save us both some time and pass the information on to me?" she asked, a hint of challenge in her voice.

"We are in no hurry, commander," he said reasonably. "We will wait until the captain is available." The screen flickered and was once again a star field.

"This is damned odd," she said to herself. "Helm, what's their position?"

"Holding steady, bearing 118 mark 34. They're maintaining position off of our starbord bow."

Momentarily, Captain Akinola came onto the bridge. Strauss appraised him of the situation. Akinola did not look pleased.

"Lortho Elix! We've had several unpleasant run-ins with him and his crew. Wonder what he wants?"

"He was very calm but insistent on speaking to you," said Strauss.

Akinola remained standing and indicated for Ensign Vashtee to hail the Troshmaran . Momentarily, the smiling face of Elix was on the sreen.

"Ah, Captain! So good of you to answer my summons!"

Akinola ignored the condesension in the Orion's tone. "State your business, Elix, before I decide to inspect your cargo holds."

Elix was unfazed. "Now captain, we have nothing to hide on our vessel. But if you'd like to conduct an inspection, feel free to do so. But . . ." a pained expression came over the Orion's face. "I'm afraid it would put you late in coming to the aid of the transport vessel from which we received a distress call."

Akinola tensed. "What distress call? What vessel? Don't play games with me, Elix!"

"Why, the distress call we received from the Sun Dancer . They reported that their engines had failed and they were drifting into the Molari Badlands - right into the path of a category 4 ion storm!"

"And you did nothing to help?" Akinola asked, angrily.

"Now captain, we're but a simple merchant ship, ill-equipped for such undertakings. We simply wanted to be neighborly by contacting the Border Service, which we have now done." Another insincere smile. "We'll take our leave of you now - I'm transmitting the coordinates of the ship, but best you hurry - they seemed rather desperate." Elix paused, then said, "Please say hello to my cousin, Solly, for me." Then the signal was cut.

Akinola barked orders. "Navigator, lay in the heading that Elix transmitted. Helm, ahead warp 9." He tapped his comm badge. "Akinola to engineering."

"Engineering, Gralt here - go ahead."

"Commander, we're heading for the Molari Badlands. We're going to need to rig for a cat 4 ion storm to conduct a SAR mission."

"Deities!" groused Gralt. "We just got out of space dock - I'll never get these warp coils adjusted correctly."

Akinola was not in the mood for banter. "Get on it, Gralt! Akinoal out." He turned to Strauss and asked, "Did you have a big breakfast this morning?"

Strauss, puzzled, shook her head.

Akinola nodded. "That's probably a good thing, commander. This ride is about to get very rough!"

 

[Gibraltar]

Another great opener. Your exchange between Strauss and T’Ser in the mess hall made me laugh out loud.

Interesting background on Krell, as well as the deepening mystery behind his actions. And what are these other Oreo’s up to now? A trap seems too obvious after the Bluefin’s last mission, so something else strange must be afoot.

Pray continue, fine sir.

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Good start. And that was a nice little bit of character development with Strauss and T'Ser. Strauss has the hots for the Aussie...Crikey...

You're setting up a good long-term mystery. I'm curious as to where it's going to lead...

 

[CeJay]

You're not giving us much time to catch our breath, do ya? Good. This series is still absolutely fascinaing me.

A love the dose of humor here in the beginning ... hillarious.

And I guess we're about to see where all this business with the Orion's is gonna lead is.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Captain Valentina Kiranov listened to the creaking and popping of the Sun Dancer's hull with growing concern. She knew that it had been foolish to divert into the Molari Badlands, but she had feared the Orion Raider that had headed toward them even more. At first, it seemed that her decision had paid off as the Raider broke off its pursuit once she had entered the Badlands. Now, though, it was beginning to look like a fatal mistake.

The Sun Dancer was a converted CargoMaster freighter, now used for transporting refuges from the devastated former war zone to new homes. Kiranov was of the rare breed that did it more out of a compassionate heart than for profit. She had been making these runs for over a year. It broke her heart to see the refugees from several devastated worlds - most of them with only the clothes on their backs and a few, meager possessions. Many were malnourished and sick. Still others were damaged in other, terrible ways with emotional scars that would not heal.

With the ion storm raging around the ship, the engines dead and the reactor failing, it seemed that all of them were destined to perish together in this radioactive maelstrom. The old ship's back-up systems struggled to keep the life support system operative, but the instruments told Kiranov that carbon dioxide levels were rising as the temperature on board dropped. Even more ominous were the radiation readings which were creeping up at to alarming levels. She keyed the intercom panel to contact Rom Garvin, her first mate and engineer. "Rom? Any luck with the reactor?"

There was a pause and the crackle of static before she heard a reply. "It's no good, Val. The coolant pumps are over-stressed and the internal temperature is reaching critical levels. I figure we've got 20 minutes before it goes into auto-shutdown. With the batteries, we have maybe another hour before we lose all power," replied Rom.

Captain Kiranov took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Okay. Thank you for trying Rom. I'm sorry I got us into this."

"Hey, Val! None of that! You made the right call. I'd rather die here than face what those Orion bastards would do," said Rom.

"Sure, Rom. Sure. No argument there. Kiranov, out." She cut the connection and sat down at the communications station on the cramped flight deck, placing her head in her hands. She knew all too well that Rom was right. Her brother, Alexei had served on a ship that was taken by Orion pirates. All of the women were taken and all the men, well . . . she would never get the image of his mutilated corpse out of her head.

Kiranov was about to get up and go back once more to lie to her passengers, to give them false hope, when a burst of static over the communications channel stopped her.

Had she heard a voice? She had stopped calling for help but had left the auto-distress signal going. She strained her ears.

For several moments there was only silence. Kiranov turned again to go aft when she heard:

". . . ancer, this . . . .cutter Bluefin . . . you read?"

Kiranov nearly dove for the communications console. She keyed the transmit switch. "Any vessel, any vessel, this is the transport Sun Dancer . We are in desperate need of assistance. Engines have failed, power is fading as is life support. Please respond!"

There was another momentary delay, then another, stronger reply. " Sun Dancer , we read you. This is the Border Service Cutter, USS Bluefin . We understand your situation. We are currently 150 thousand kilometers from your position. We will be alongside shortly. Please stand by for instructions."

"Understood, Bluefin , we're standing by awaiting instructions. Be advised we have less than one hour until we lose power completely."

************************************

When Captain Akinola heard Captain Kiranov's last message he winced. "Damn!" he muttered, "That doesn't give us much time." He spoke louder, "Helm, bring us in close. We're going to have to extend our shields around them if we're going to have a chance with transporters." He tapped his com badge, "Bridge to engineering."

"Gralt here, Captain."

"Commander, we're going to need to extend our shields around the Sun Dancer. How are things holding up down there?"

"Pretty good considering what you've been taking us through. I've got two crewmen who've already decorated themselves with breakfast." Gralt paused. "Systems are all normal, Impulse engines are running beautifully, we'll keep the shields at full power but remember, we lose shield efficiency if we extend them too long."

"Understood, commander. Time is not a luxury we have today. Bridge out."

Akinola looked at the maelstrom on the viewscreen as the ship lurched for the hundredth time in the last hour. He tapped his com badge again. "Chief Brin - have your SAR team ready to beam over in five minutes. Do a VERY quick assessment. If we can't get their power going, we'll have to evacuate them to our ship."

"Understood, sir. We're ready to go on your order," said Brin.

"Standby, chief. Akinola, out."

The cutter plowed ahead against a barage of charged ions driven by fluctuating gravity fields. The visual effect was spectacular, but it made navigation difficult. Fralk, the Denobulan helmsman, deftly maneuvered the veteran starship in closer to the floundering transport. The hull of the Sun Dancer flashed as charged particles collided, creating a St. Elmo's fire that swirled and snaked along the ship.

"Sir, I have us parallel and stationary relative to the Sun Dancer ," said Ensign Fralk.

"Nicely done, ensign!" said the captain, a proud smile on his face. "There will be an extra ration of ice cream for you tonight!" Akinola tapped his com badge. "Akinola to SAR team - we have rendezvoused with the Sun Dancer and are extending shields now. Transport over and see what you can do. You have 15 minutes. After that, we'll have to begin evacuation, understood?"

Chief Brin responded almost immediately,"Understood, sir.Preparing to transport."

Senior Chief Solly Brin, the Red-Orion Chief of the Boat and senior non-commissioned officer on the Bluefin , materialized on the Sun Dancer with his detail of five crewmen. The cold and the smell hit him immediately. Obviously, the sanitation systems had been overloaded along with the other problems on the transport ship. He turned to survey the scene. His search and rescue team were in a mess hall crowded with people of various races. The people showed little reaction to the arrival of the SAR team. Most of them were exhausted, some already unconscious from the foul air and lack of oxygen. Chief Brin began to give orders.

"Sanders, you and Taggart begin checking the passengers - see who is in the worst shape so we can get them transported to sickbay. D'Tyr and Epstein, head back to engineering. See what you can do. I'm heading to the bridge."

Chief Brin hurried to the forward section of the ship. He came to a hatch marked, "Flight Deck - Authorized Personnel Only," and he opened it. Inside, he found a very cramped control center with archaic instrumentation. Seated at a console was a dark-haired woman in gray coveralls. Brin spoke. "Captain Kiranov?"

The woman started as she stared at Brin. Suspicion mingled with fear gripped her features. She said simply, "You are Orion."

"Yes ma'am. I'm Chief Solly Brin from the Bluefin . I'm leading the rescue team."

Kiranov continued to stare at Brin. She said simply, "My brother was murdered by Orion pirates."

Chief Brin nodded and spoke in a gentle tone. "Yes ma'am, I am sorry. My father was also killed by Orion pirates."

Kiranov's eyes widened. She searched his face and found truth. "How terrible for you!"

Brin nodded. "Yes, it was. And I know your loss was terrible. But ma'am, right now we've got more than 50 people on this ship that need help. Right now, I need your help. I need to run a diagnostic program on your ship's systems. If we can't get your power back, we're going to have to evacuate to the Bluefin. Do you understand, ma'am?"

Captain Kiranov seemed to come back to herself. "Da! Yes! I will help you." She showed Brin the computer access and he went to work.

***********************************

The cloaked Romulan scout ship maintained station 500 thousand kilometers from the Bluefin and the Sun Dancer . The crew of three watched with interest the unfolding rescue operation.

"It seems to be an inordinate risk to attempt to rescue such an old ship and these refugees," said T'Vash.

"It is their way. Do not mistake their compassion for weakness," said Voladek.

"The Border Service ship - it seems well-suited for navigating these ion storms. It has extremely powerful impulse engines and is very strong structurally," said Tor'dex.

"Should we scan the Federation ship?" asked T'Vash.

"No, we must not risk detection. Even in this ion storm, they might detect an active scan. Besides, we already have sufficient data on this class ship. Maintain passive sensors only," said Voladek.

"Has the sleeper agent been activated?" asked T'Vash.

"Soon, young one. Very soon," said Voladek.

*********************************

 

[Gibraltar]

The plot thickens! Now we’ve got Romulans inside Federation space, playing a bit of voyeur tomfoolery. I loved the freighter captain’s reaction to Chief Brin, that moment of terror when she wonders if the Orions faked a Starfleet comms ident.

You’re off to another great start.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Chief Brin looked at the diagnostic readouts of the Sun Dancer's systems and swore softly to himself. He turned to Captain Kiranov who was watching, anxiously.

"Ma'am? There's no way we can get power and life support back up in the next few minutes. We must evacuate your crew and passengers to the Bluefin ," said Brin in a gentle tone.

Kiranov smiled thinly and nodded. "It is as I thought, Chief Brin. She looked around the spartan control center. " Sun Dancer has been a good ship. But ship's can be replaced. People cannot." She returned her gaze to him. "What do you need me to do?"

"The most important thing is to get everyone together for transport. Do you have a ship's manifest?" Kironov nodded. "Then get everyone into the mess hall - make sure everyone on the manifest is present and accounted for. Let me know if anyone is missing." Brin tapped his com badge.

"Brin to Bluefin ."

Akinola's voice responded. "Go ahead chief."

"Captain, we need to begin evacuation. We're too late to get the reactor running. Captain Kiranov and I will see that all passengers get to the mess hall for transport," said Brin.

"Acknowledged. Chief, be advised that the ion storm is increasing in intensity. Shield integrity may be compromised, and if that happens, well, you know what that means," said Akinola.

Brin nodded, grimly. "Yeah, no transporters. Okay, skipper, we're going to move our butts. Brin, out." He looked at Captain Kiranov. "You heard?" She nodded. "Okay, then. Let's get moving."

Aboard the Bluefin , Commander Strauss and Lt. Commander T'Ser were preparing the shuttle hangar to receive guests. Crewman set portable bulkeads in place and began setting up cots. Strauss followed T'Ser's lead as Strauss had never been involved in an actual ship rescue operation before. She was still recovering from a case of space sickness due to the rough transit through the Molari Badlands and the ion storm.

"We can handle as many as 150 evacuees in a pinch," said T'Ser, "but not with any degree of comfort. In this situation, with only 54 people, we can handle them quite easily."

Commander Strauss had been impressed with how quickly the crew prepared the ship to receive evacuees. Even now, crewmen were manning both personnel transporters and the large cargo transporter to begin the process of bringing over the evacuees. "T'Ser - what happens to these people once we bring them on board?"

T'Ser received a PADD from a crewman, nodded, handing back the PADD before answering. "Usually, we take them to the nearest Star Station or Starbase. There, they can receive needed attention and, hopefully, a ship to take them on to their destination. In this case, I don't know. These people aren't your typical colonists. They've been displaced by the war and really don't have very bright prospects wherever they go. It's sad, but there's not a lot we can do to help them."

Strauss remained silent, pondering this. A door from the corridor opened and Dr. Calvin Baxter appeared with several medics, loaded with medical equipment. "Hello commanders!" he said, cheerfully. "Where do you want us to set up triage?"

T'Ser indicated an open area on the opposite side of the hangar deck. "Splendid!" said Baxter, "That will do nicely." He turned to his entourage, "Come along, people. We've work to do!" He headed off, like the Pied Piper.

Strauss smiled in spite of herself. "He's a character, I must say!"

T'Ser also smiled. "He is a bit eccentric. Don't let that English accent fool you, though. He was born and raised in Oklahoma."

Strauss laughed at that, but her laughter was cut short as she saw the first group of evacuees as they were brought in. They were as haggard and pitiful a group as she had ever seen.

T'Ser spoke. "I suppose you got used to seeing this during the war."

Strauss shook her head. "We were always on our ship, or on a station. We seldom ever saw civilians. Only enemy ships at a distance on our viewscreen." she paused. "It was kind of impersonal. We didn't see the real face of the war. Not like this."

On the bridge, Captain Akinola monitored the intensifying ion storm. "Mr. Bane, status of shields?"

Bane replied, "Still holding steady capt'n, but much more and they will begin to degrade. We've boosted the output with auxiliary power to maintain our extended shield
envelope."

"We've got to keep them up until we complete the evacuation, Nigel. It's far too rouch to send shuttles over," said the captain.

"We'll keep the shields goin' Cap'n. No worries about that!"

Akinola smiled. "I know I can count on you, Mr. Bane." He tapped his com badge. "Akinola to Chief Brin. What's the status of the SAR-Op?"

Brin's deep voice responded. "Almost done here, sir. We're down to the last two groups of evacuees, then my team and Captain Kiranov will beam over." Brin paused, "Sir, Captain Kiranov was wondering if it was possible to tow the Sun Dancer out of the Badlands." Brin paused again, then spoke in a heartfelt manner, "Sir, this ship is all she's got."

Akinola rubbed his face and sighed. He looked up at the static-ridden view screen at the battered transport vessel. "No promises, chief, but I'll see what I can do. Akinola out." He tapped his com badge again. "Bridge to Engineering."

"Engineering, Ensign Brooks here."

Akinola frowned slightly. "Brooks? Where's Commander Gralt?"

There was a slight pause. "He's ah, discussing something with a crewman, sir." In the background, Akinola could hear Gralt berating some poor crewman with some colorful Tellarite curses. "Here he comes sir."

Gralt came on the com. "By the diseased second deity's pustulent eye! Save us from these incompetent whelps! Now, what do you want?"

" Commander Gralt, this is Captain Akinola. Sorry to interupt your butt chewing, but I need to ask a question . . ."

*******************************

The cloaked Romulan scout ship was still positioned a half a million klicks from the rescue scene. The Tal Shiar crew powered up the engines and began to move away from the Bluefin , its movement shielded by the interference of the ion storm. It moved carefully and deliberately through the maelstrom, finally coming to its destination in the very heart of the Molari Badlands. It held postion for a few minutes until, in the midst of the storm, a vortex suddenly appeared, opening like an iris. Energy and plasma swirled around this sudden door in the heavens. The scout ship applied power and swiftly entered the vorted, quickly disappearing. A minute more and the wormhole vanished as suddenly as it appeared.

******************************

"What the bloody hell?" exclaimed Lt. Bane from the sensor station.

Akinola looked at him sharply, "What's wrong, lieutenant?"

"Sir, I just read a massive energy spike. It was there a minute ago, now it's gone!"

Akinola frowned. "Nigel, we are in the middle of an ion storm. What's unusual about an energy spike?"

Bane shook his head. "Wrong type energy readings, sir. We get energy fluctuations in here all the time. This was sudden, and it almost went off the scale. It held for about a minute, then just blinked out. Too long for an explosion, not long enough for a plasma surge." He continued to fiddle with his instruments, then stared at a screen for a moment. He turned back to the captain. "Sir? It read more like a quantum singularity."

"A wormhole?" said Akinola in disbelief. "In the Badlands?
That shouldn't be possible. And how come we've never come across it before."

Bane looked puzzled. "I don't know sir, but I know what I saw."

"I believe you, son, I believe you." said Akinola. He stared again at the viewscreen. "What the hell is going on?"

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Interesting...the Rommies seem to have found a wormhole...or worse, are able to create one artificially. Either way--bad news.

It's also interesting seeing the Bluefin crew in SAR mode.

 

[CeJay]

Oh, this is exciting ... what oh what are these Romulans up to and who could be the sleeper? I need answers to these questions and fast ...

SAR was cool but - to be honest - nothing we haven't seen before. I would have liked to see some more distinct tricks only the Border Service knows how to pull off. But of course this aint over yet.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

To be honest, I wasn't real happy with the SAR scene, myself. It came off too much as a device to advance the plot (which it is ) but as I re-read it, it's pretty mundane. I'll have to come up with a better (more original) SAR effort in the future.

Time to get on with the sleeper agent and some new crew members for the Bluefin! Oh, and Commander Strauss gets to kick some butt!

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

The powerful impulse engines of the Bluefin thundered soundlessly in the vacuum of space as the border cutter towed the crippled transport vessel through the treacherous ion storm to the open void of the relatively normal space of the Borderlands. On the bridge, Captain Akinola kept a small smile of pride on his face. When he suggested to Gralt that the challenge of towing a 150 thousand metric ton transport through a category 4 ion storm might be "too much for the engines," Gralt had taken the bait. "By the deities, we could tow a Galaxy class ship through a category 5 plasma storm on one engine, let alone two!" Gralt had worked his magic with the tractor beams and now they were nearly in the clear. They would head on to Star Station Echo to drop off the refugees and the Sun Dancer and pick up some new crew members who were waiting at the station. Akinola decided to go pay his respects to their temporary guest.

"You have the con, Mr. Bane. I'm going to check on our passengers," said Akinola.

"Aye, sir!" said Lt. Bane, moving to the command chair as Akinola entered the lift.

***************************

Commander Strauss was pleased to see that the refugees had been cared for in such a quick and efficient manner. Dr. Baxter's triage team had checked out all 54 of their guests for radiation exposure. Thankfully, their exposure had not been harmful. Cookie and his kitchen crew had put together a nice, hot meal and most of the refugees were now quiet and on cots, fatigued from their ordeal. She was about to head to the bridge, when she saw one of the refugees, a rather large, slovenly looking Bajoran, making his way rather unsteadily toward her. Strauss turned to face him.

"May I help you?" she asked, politely.

The man, obviously inebriated, spoke in an aggressive manner. "What's this crap I'm hearing 'bout you takin' us to some star station?"

Strauss did not back up, even though the man moved far too close to her and was better than a foot taller. "That is correct, sir. We are heading to Star Station Echo where you can make arrangements for transport to your final destination."

"Well that's just frikkin great!" he said, his breath causing her eyes to water. "Just pick us up and drop us off like so much cargo. Why not take us on the Verix now?"

"As I said, sir, you can get transport from the station on the Verix or wherever you're heading. Now if you'll excuse me, I have duties on the bridge."

She turned to go, but the Bajoran suddenly grabbed her roughly by the arm. "By the prophets, don't think you can walk away when I'm talkin' to you!"

Strauss faced the drunk man. "Let go of my arm - now!" she said quietly but firmly.

Instead, he tightened his grip and pulled her closer, his rank smell making her nauseous again. "And what if I don't, little girl?" he said, leering at her.

In an instant, Strauss had slammed the big man down on the deck, very hard. His arm was bent up behind his back in a very painful manner, Strauss' knee planted squarely in the small of his back.

Two security crewman were trotting toward them, having seen the brief struggle. Strauss bent forward and whispered fiercely to the now thoroughly cowed man, "Do not EVER put your hands on me or any member of this crew. If you do, I will personally break your arm. Understood? "

The drunk bully was almost sobbing in pain and anger. As the security crewmen arrived to take him to the brig, he bawled. "She assaulted me! I wanna press charges."

The first crewman, a massive Tenarian, said, "Better shut up, little man, or the XO will kick your ass again!" He gave a smile of approval to Strauss. "Nicely done, commander!" The two men then lifted the whining Bajoran onto his feet and half walked, half drug him off of the hangar deck.

Strauss tugged at her tunic and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. She turned to head off toward the bridge when she say Captain Akinola casually leaning against the bulkhead, arms folded and grinning at her.

"Well commander," he said, "It seems that you've had your workout for this morning."

"Not much of one," she said as she headed out the doorway.
"Captain." she said with a respectful nod of the head.

Akinola shook his head and chuckled, then went in search of Captain Kiranov.

************************************

"Captain Akinola, I am very grateful for all that you have done for us," said the Russian woman, "But I must apologize for Greb Jorla. We've had previous problems with him, although he's not too bad when he's sober."

Captain Akinola waved aside the apology. "Not your fault, captain. All of these folks have been through a lot. Unfortunately, stress sometimes brings out the worst in people."

Kiranov gave Akinola a meaningful look. "But sometimes it brings out the best." She paused, "I am most grateful for your efforts in salvaging my ship. That was beyond what I had hoped for. You and your crew have been very kind to us."

Akinola gave a sardonic smile and took a sip of his coffee. "Ma'am, that's our job."

"Well then, you're very good at your job!" said Kiranov.

Akinola smiled. "That we are, ma'am. That we are."

"All the same, we had about given up hope. I know it was foolish to enter the Badlands, but I've . . well, had some very bad experiences with Orion pirates. When that Raider showed up on our scanners I thought we could lose them." She looked down. "Instead, I nearly lost my ship and the lives of everyone on board. Especially after that other ship in the Badlands did not answer our hails."

Akinola's hand stopped midway with his coffee mug. "Ship? We didn't detect any other vessels out there," said Akinola.

Kiranov sighed. "It may have been a sensor glitch from the ion storm, but right before our engines failed, we briefly picked up another ship in the Badlands. Things began to go badly rather quickly and we sent a distress call. The other vessel did not respond." She frowned. "It seemed to just . . . disappear. But, as I said, our sensors are not very good and the storm . . ."

Akinola interuppted. "Can you tell me anything at all about this other ship?"

*******************************

The USS Bluefin arrived at Star Station Echo with no further incidents. The Sun Dancer was towed to a civilian space dock berth and the refugees transferred to the station. The cutter prepared to take on new personnel. Most of the evacuees expressed gratitude to the officers and crew of the Bluefin for their rescue, although Greb Jorla (now sober) was careful to avoid Commander Strauss.

Akinola gave instructions to his senior officers. "I'm going to meet with Admiral Bateson. See that our new crew members get settled in. Commander Strauss, get them on the duty rotation after they're squared away. We should be good on supplies since we just left here a few days ago, but check with the department heads to be on the safe side. I want to be underway in three hours."

"Understood, sir." said Strauss.

***********************************

"Joseph! Good to see you, come in and have a seat."

Admiral Morgan Bateson, the former CO of the USS Bozeman and Commander, Border Services, extended a large hand to greet Captain Akinola. He was taller than Akinola, with thinning brown hair and a rakish beard. He was one of the very few flag officers for whom Akinola had much regard.

"Admiral, thanks for seeing me on short notice."

Bateson sat down, gesturing to a pile of PADDS on his desk. "Driving a desk gets pretty tedious. Always glad to hear from someone who's actually doing something! I hear an 'atta-boy' is in order for that little SAR-OPs you just completed." A wistful look came over the admiral's face. "God, how I miss those days." He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out two heavy glasses and a bottle containing a blue liquid that seemed to glow. "A shame that they outlawed Romulan Ale again. Fortunately, I managed to acquire a fair supply before the imports stopped." He poured a finger's worth into each class and shoved one to Akinola. "Semper Paratus!" Bateson said, in way of a toast.

"To fast cutters and fair sailing," returned Akinola. He drained his glass, the firey liquid burning down his throat. Akinola caught his breath, then spoke. "Sir, the SAR was successful, but there were some odd aspects to it." He related their encounter with the Orion Raider, the wormhole reading and the mysterious ship in the Badlands.

"I'll be damned," Bateson said, a thoughtful look on his face. "Captain, just last week Captain Hauck of the Everest reported a similar mysterious vessel contact, also in the Badlands. Do you know Hauck? A bright young man on TDY from the Corps of Engineers. Anyway, they picked up a contact but it disappeared before they could get a bearing."

"Admiral, since our recent encounter with that Klingon ship, I'm a bit paranoid about cloaked ships." confessed Akinola. "But more puzzling to me is why Lortho Elix would warn us about a ship in distress. Especially since it is likely he was the one originally pursuing the Sun Dancer. "

Bateson leaned back in his chair, "Joseph, in my 'former life' before my crew and I had our time in the temporal loop, we had several run-ins with Lortho's father and grandfather. I can never recall them or any Orion volunteering any helpful information," he paused, "unless it suited their purpose." He looked at Akinola. "What's Chief Brin's take on this?"

Akinola shook his head. "Solly thinks his cousin is just playing mind games with us. I suppose that's possible, especially with Elix's tendency to goad Solly at any opportunity."

"Maybe he's trying to return a favor. After all, you did break up Krell's little scheme to get the Federation and the Syndicate into a shooting war," suggested Bateson.

"Maybe," said Akinola, doubtfully. "But that whole situation still bothers me, Morgan. How was a war between us and the Oreos going to help Krell? My understanding was he wanted to regain honor for his house. There's something missing."

Bateson grunted, then stroked his beard in thought. "Captain, I'm going to kick this up-hill, see if we can get some more assets in the sector. Right now, I'm more concerned about the possibility of cloaked ships lurking about. It might be another Klingon privateer snooping about, or worse, the Orions may have bought or stolen cloaking technology. Why don't you and the Bluefin head toward the coordinates of that wormhole you think you found?"

"Admiral, if Lt. Bane said he saw it, then it's there." said Akinola.

Bateson nodded. "Then, hopefully, your Lt. Bane can find it again."

"And what if we come upon one of these mystery ships? What are our rules of engagement?" asked Akinola

Bateson looked at him intently. "Do what you have to, captain. Try to establish contact, but be ready to defend yourself, if necessary. God knows we don't want to start another war, especially considering we don't know who the hell we're dealing with. But I will not allow any of my squadron to have their hands tied."

"Thank you, sir. That's what I wanted to hear!"

*****************************

Lt. Commander T'Ser was on the bridge, serving as duty officer when a yeoman handed her a PADD. "Ma'am? These are the new crew members who just beamed aboard. We've logged them in and have assigned them quarters."

T'Ser took the PADD, scanning the names - a couple of crewmen for engineering, a new medic, Ah good! - Ensign Li, one of the survivors from the Kilimanjaro was staying on, and . . .

T'Ser stared at the final name in disbelief. No! Not him! Not on this ship!

Commander Strauss entered the bridge for her duty shift and walked over to T'Ser to relieve her. Strauss' smile quickly faded as she saw the troubled look on the Vulcan's face.

"T'Ser? What's wrong?" Strauss asked quietly,with concern.

T'Ser looked up, startled. She attempted to compose herself and indicated the PADD. "Did you do this . . . as a joke?" her whispered words trembled with emotion.

Strauss frowned as she also whispered, "Joke? What are you talking about?" She took the PADD from T'Ser. "It's just the list of new officers and crew. What about it?"

T'Ser stood and gestured for Strauss to follow her to the empty ready room. There, T'Ser indicated the last name on the list. "Lt. Sarnek. He's coming on as helm officer."

Strauss eyed her friend. "So? Do you have a problem with another Vulcan on board?"

T'Ser looked Strauss directly in the eye. "You do not know, then. Lt. Sarnek is not just any Vulcan. He is the brother of my former betrothed."

Strauss looked at T'Ser incredulously. "WHAT?" She caught herself and spoke in a low voice. "Betrothed? I thought you and your parents didn't believe in that stuff."

"We don't. But my maternal grandmother does. Very strongly! As family matriarch, she decided that she had to do what my parents would not do. Needless to say, mother and father were upset and broke off the betrothal. It caused a pretty nasty stink for both families. Strevel, the one who to whom I was betrothed, and his family, considered my parents and I to have committed a serious breach of tradition and ethics. That's a huge deal in Vulcan culture! The last time a betrothal was broken off was over a hundred years ago and involved Ambassador Spock."

Strauss tried to reassure T'Ser. "Look, Lt. Sarnek is a trained Starfleet officer. Surely, he can put this aside. I mean, aren't Vulcans supposed to be above emotional reactions?"

T'Ser looked doubtful. "Don't believe everything you hear about Vulcans and their ability to be dispassionate. Vulcans can suppress emotions very well. But, it does not mean they forgive . . .or forget." She paused, then shook her head in a resigned manner. "This is going to be awkward."

 

[CeJay]

Plenty of stuff happening here. I like the internal conflict that will undoubtedly ensue once Sarnek will join the crew. T'Ser is one of my favorite characters here and I'm looking forward to see more of her.

And then of course the guessing game has begun. Who's that sleeper agent and what's he or she up to? Some ideas have already started forming in my mind ...

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Nice character work here. I liked seeing Morgan Bateson--that name kept on ringing bells, but I couldn't place it until now (Kicking myself in the tush here). I also liked T'Ser's comment about Vulcans and emotions--something we've seen frequently in the series--that it's not that Vulcans don't have emotions, they most definitely do, it's that they are very good at suppressing them. But, as we've seen in both DS9 and Enterprise, Vulcans are more than capable of being petty and holding grudges. I'm definitely looking forward to seeing the exchange between these two Vulcans. And, to echo CeJay, I'm looking forward to seeing if I can guess who the sleeper is...

 

[BrotherBenny]

I'm enjoying this immensely. There's good plot and character development and a good mystery picking up. I really like the idea of the wormhole and the dangerous way it can be used by an unscrupulous crew/race.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

The text message on his computer screen seemed inoccuous enough. He began to read it, puzzled at first, until a certain key word grabbed his attention. As he continued to read, it was as if he woke from a long slumber. His purpose, long buried in the deep recesses of his mind, now came forth. Part of him, the part that represented his life for so many decades, rebelled. You must not! You will betray those you know and love! But the deeply in-grained mental conditioning from decades earlier quickly put down that brief mental rebellion. The sleeper agent, kidnapped and brainwashed by the Tal Shiar many years ago, was now very much awake. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply before continuing to read the coded message. His time to act was at hand.

********************************

"You were detected?" The question was more of a statement.

"Commander, the new cloaking device, though highly effective, cannot be sustained for long periods. While it was unfortunate that the transport vessel was in the vicinity, it is unlikely they learned anything of importance regarding our ship." said Voladek.

"I am less concerned about your ship than I am the possible detection of the artificial wormhole," said the commander.

Voladek shrugged, "And how do you suggest we cloak a wormhole?"

The commander waved a hand, conceding the point. "Again, a necessary risk. The sleeper agent has been activated to help prevent further detection."

"And if he is discovered?" challenged Voladek. The commander did not respond, but merely gave the old agent a knowing look.

"Commander?" interrupted T'Vash. "Would it not be simpler to enlist the assistance of the Federation, rather than operate covertly? Our risk of detection rises every time we use the artificial wormhole."

The Tal Shiar commander sighed. "That is precisely what I have told the director, and he has in turn told the Praetor. Nonetheless, the Praetor is adamant that the treachery of the Orion Syndicate remain a secret. Even the Senate does not know what has happened."

Tor'dex frowned. "Does the Praetor not trust the Federation to help? They proved to be effective and capable allies in the war with the Dominion."

"Tor'dex, this is not about trust. It is about pride. The Praetor does not want the Federation to know what the Orions have done." The commander staightened in his chair. "This line of questioning is not productive. Now, what have you discovered?"

********************************

"Commander Strauss? I'd like you to meet Lt. Sarnek, our new helm officer," said Captain Akinola.

Strauss rose from the command chair to greet the young Vulcan officer. At least he looks young , thought Strauss, Although he could be anywhere from 30 to 70. Aloud she said, "Lieutenant, welcome aboard. You'll find the Bluefin a challenge. She's got quite a power to mass ratio with her impulse engines. It takes a bit of getting used to."

The Vulcan lieutenant's expression did not change. "I served on the USS Ardent , a Defiant class vessel with a 7.2% higher power to mass ratio. I should be well able to adjust to the power curve on this ship."

Before Strauss could respond, Akinola interrupted. "Lt. Sarnek, if you would, please relieve Mr. Fralk at the helm. Commander, could you meet with me a few moments in my ready room?"

Akinola led Strauss into the ready room and indicated for her to be seated. He took his place behind his desk.

"I heard that there might be some tension between T'Ser and our new helm officer," said Akinola.

"She spoke to you, then?" asked Strauss.

"No, not directly, but I knew of her broken betrothal, and it was pretty easy to check the family connections once I saw Sarnek's name on the transfer list."

Strauss shook her head. "Do the people at the bureau of personnel check into these things before making assignments?"

Akinola laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back. "They do, but ability and availability trumps personal considerations. We needed a new helm officer - one who was experienced with high-powered impulse drives. Sarnek was able and available. It's as simple as that."

Strauss shrugged. "His personnel file shows he's very capable, but his supervisors say he tends to be a loner, even by Vulcan standards."

Akinola smiled. "Well, XO. Part of YOUR job is to make sure he fits in. We're a small ship with a close-knit crew. I don't expect T'Ser and Sarnek to kiss and make-up, but I do expect them both to act in a professional manner, particularly toward each other. Clear?"

"As crystal, sir."

"Good," Akinola leaned forward. "I'm glad we had this little chat."

***********************************

"Captain? Message coming in from Admiral Bateson," said Lt. Bane.

"On view-screen, Mr. Bane," said Akinola.

The starfield on the bridge view-screen shifted to an image of Admiral Morgan Bateson. He did not look pleased. "Captain Akinola, I wanted you to know that Starfleet Command declined my request for additional ships in the sector. They seemed unimpressed with the possibility of a new wormhole in the Molari Badlands or of phantom ships." He clasped his hands in front of him, obviously frustrated. "I'm sorry, Joseph, right now, you're on your own. I've talked to the captains of the Everest, Scamp and Matterhorn about the situation, but we're already spread too thin for them to be much help. They're on standby if something unforseen comes up."

Akinola smiled sardonically. "Admiral, this whole situation could be categorized as 'unforseen'".

Bateson snorted. "No argument there, Captain. But right now, you are the most experienced CO I've got, so the job is yours - begin patrolling the Badlands and try to locate the wormhole or any vessels that are attempting to transit through it."

"Understood, sir."

"Good luck, captain. Bateson, out."

The view-screen returned to the stars against the blackness of space. Akinola spoke, "Navigator, plot a course for the Badlands. Helm, make our speed warp 6."

*******************************

The now-active "sleeper" agent began to use skills he had not previously known he had. He quickly hacked into the computer system of the ship, bypassing passwords and security protocols. He found the file for which he had searched. He deleted the file - a sensor log indicating the detection of an artificial singularity, substituting a new file in its place. He exited the routine, leaving no apparent trace of his tampering. Returning to his quarters, he sat in the darkness. A tear trickled down his face.

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Putting on my Columbo raincoat and sticking a stale cigar in my mouth... Our agent's a male through your use of the masculine pronoun which knocks out all the females on the ship. He's also been in service for a while and is fighting his/her programming and prior to this had no serious hacking abilities. He has also been on the Bluefin for a long time--long enough to develop very tight bonds. That knocks out Sarnek. If your going where I think you're going...this is good...I like it...

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

DavidFalkayn said:
Putting on my Columbo raincoat and sticking a stale cigar in my mouth... Our agent's a male through your use of the masculine pronoun which knocks out all the females on the ship. He's also been in service for a while and is fighting his/her programming and prior to this had no serious hacking abilities. He has also been on the Bluefin for a long time--long enough to develop very tight bonds. That knocks out Sarnek. If your going where I think you're going...this is good...I like it...

The man with the smelly, cheap cigar wearing the grungy trenchcoat is correct - the mole is not Sarnek. I had considered making him a likely suspect but decided that would be too easy a set-up. Better to dislike Sarnek for other reasons.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

The Bluefin dropped out of warp as it approached the Molari Badlands. Captain Akinola took a moment to appreciate the violent beauty of this maelstrom - a portion of space in the Borderlands between Klingon, Orion and Federation space that had resulted in the loss of many ships and their crews over the centuries. Part of the job of the Border Service was to go into this area to rescue the crews of ships that became disabled by ion storms, plasma surges, gravitic shear and temporal anomalies. This time, though, the Bluefin had a different reason to venture into the Badlands - to locate a previously unknown wormhole.

"Mr. Sarnek, full power to the shields and to the inertial dampeners." Akinola turned to Lt. Bane at the sensor station. "Mr. Bane, do you have a bearing on where the wormhole appeared?"

Lt. Nigel Bane stared at a computer screen, a slight frown on his face. He hesitated a moment before replying, "Yes sir, transferring coordinates to navigation."

Akinola noticed the hesitation. "Something wrong, lieutenant?"

Bane turned, a sheepish grin on his face. "No sir, I just thought I remembered a different set of coordinates than the computer is showing, but I've double-checked the sensor log. I Must be gettin' bleary-eyed from starin' in the sensor hood all shift."

Akinola chuckled, "You can get some rack time soon, Mr. Bane." He turned his attention back forward. "Mr. Sarnek, ahead full impulse. Mind the gravity shear!"

"Acknowledged," said Sarnek.

The border cutter surged ahead, its inertial dampeners challenged by the constantly changing gravity fields and intense ion eddies.

******************************

Captain Akinola strode into sickbay at the end of his duty shift in search of Dr. Baxter. The white-haired physician showed surprise at the captain's appearance. "Joseph? What brings you to my humble infirmary?"

Akinola rubbed his forehead, "Doc, I've been fighting a headache all day. Didn't sleep well last night either - wierd dreams."

Baxter picked up a Feinberger scanner from a tray and moved the humming device around Akinola's head. He tipped it in his hand to get the reading. "Well, no vascular problems and your sinuses seem clear enough. I do read a bit of cranio-muscular tension, though." He sat on a stool and crossed his arms. "How long have you had problems sleeping?"

Akinola snorted. "You know me, Calvin. I seldom sleep more than five hours on any given night - haven't for years."

"Yes, and I've offered to give you something for that," retorted Baxter. "Your wood-carving hobby may be partly responsible for your headache , with all of that close, detail work."

"It helps me relax, Doc. Besides, the headache's something new. And I don't want any sleep aides - I need to be alert at a moment's notice."

It was Baxter's turn to snort. "Welcome to the 24th century, captain. I can give you a patch to wear that will help you sleep that works like synthehol - you'll get a pleasant buzz that you can shake off at will."

Akinola still looked doubtful. "Just something for the headache now. If I still have problems sleeping, I'll come back."

Baxter rolled his eyes but did not press the issue. He went to a cabinet, filled a hypo-spray and walked back to the captain. "This is a mild analgesic with B-12. You'll feel much better by the time you get to your quarters."

"I'm not going to my quarters, I'm going to the gym," teased Akinola.

"I don't know why I bother," muttered Baxter as he administered the hypo-spray.

***********************

Akinola had to admit that he was feeling better as he neared the gym. As he entered, he saw Chief Solly Brin already leading the Shodokan class through their warm-up routines. He noticed that Ensign Li, the young officer that had survived the destruction of the USS Kilimanjaro and was now part of their crew was with them, sporting a black belt and a bandaged hand. He approached Li, who quickly straightened to attention when he say Akinola.

"As you were, ensign. We're pretty informal in the gym. I see you're wearing a black belt - Shodokan?" asked Akinola.

"Actually, Aikido and Shodokan, sir. But I'm rusty and need to start working out again."

Akinola indicated the bandage on Li's hand. "How did you get that, ensign?"

Li at first looked at the bandage as if he had never seen it before. He blinked, then smiled, "I was careless, sir. Nicked myself with a micro-torch replacing some circuits."

Akinola nodded. "Best to be careful with those things." He changed the subject, "Ensign, I'd like to start using you to lead some of the classes. Ol' Senior Chief Brin is starting to get slow in his old age," Akinola said, teasing.

"I heard that!" said Brin. "And I can still whip your butt."

"That's, I can whip your butt - sir! ," said Akinola.

***************************

Lt. Commander T'Ser was finishing her meal in the wardroom when she sensed a presence in the doorway. She looked up to see Lt. Sarnek, holding a tray, standing still. His face was expressionless.

"Well, lieutenant, are you going to block the doorway or are you going to sit down and eat," asked T'Ser.

For a moment, T'Ser thought that Sarnek might turn and leave, but he finally sat at the wardroom table at the opposite end from her.

At first, he did not speak to her, instead carefully unwrapping his utensils from a napkin. T'Ser was about to leave when Sarnek finally spoke. "I did not know that you were assigned to this ship," he said simply.

"Well, imagine my surprise when I saw your name listed with the new transfers," she said neutrally. "How have you been, Sarnek?"

"I am well." He began to eat his salad, slowly, avoiding eye contact with T'Ser.

"And your family?" she pressed.

Sarnek carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin, set his utensils precisely on his plate and turned to face her. "Commander, the status of my family is not your concern. I have no wish to make 'small talk' with you, nor have any more contact with you than is absolutely necessary to carry out my duties."

T'Ser's face began to flush emerald. " Lieutenant, I was attempting to be polite. Of course, I should have realized that you would consider that 'illogical' and a waste of time. Fine. But get this straight, mister, you will show me respect! I am the second officer of this ship and I goddam out-rank you!" She paused a second to let that sink in.

Sarnek merely stared impassively at her for several moments, then spoke. "Will that be all, commander?" he asked, calmly.

T'Ser held his stare for a few seconds before responding. "Yes, Mr. Sarnek. That is very much all."

He stood wordlessly with easy grace, took his tray to the disposal slot and left the wardroom. T'Ser continued to stare at the doorway for a few moments, then put her head down on her arms. "Well, T'Ser," she said sarcasticly to herself, "You handled that well."

**********************************

Ensign Vashtee looked up from the sensor hood and spoke to Commander Strauss. "Ma'am? We are at the coordinates for the wormhole."

"Very good, Ms. Vashtee. Begin active sensor scan of the area. Mr. Fralk, hold our position here."

"Aye, holding position," said the Denobulan helmsman.

For several minutes, the bridge was quiet save for the constant background beeps and hums of equipment. Strauss was working on crew schedules on her PADD when Ensign Vashtee spoke again, puzzlement in her voice. "Commander? I don't understand, but there are no residual traces that indicate a wormhole appeared anywhere in this area."

Strauss frowned. "That's odd. Did you verify that we are at the correct coordinates?"

The young Indian officer nodded. "Yes ma'am, and re-checked. We are at the precise location indicated by our sensor logs. But my scans show absolutely no sign of a massive singularity event having occured within range of our sensors."

Strauss asked, "Could the sensor logs be incorrect?"

Vashtee looked as if Strauss had asked her to french-kiss a Horta. "No . . . ma'am. I don't see how that could be."

Strauss pressed, "Yet those sensor logs show the wormhole we encountered a few days ago to be at this very location?"

"Yes ma'am."

Strauss was beginning to get irritated. "Ensign, either that sensor log is wrong, our sensors are wrong, or we're in the wrong place. Which is it?"

"I . . . I"m not sure, ma'am."

Strauss looked at her PADD, verifying what she already knew. She tapped her com badge. "Lieutenant Bane, this is Commander Strauss, report to the bridge, immediately."

"Bane here, on my way."

Ensign Vashtee looked stricken. Strauss attempted to cheer her up. "Mr. Bane logged the wormhole the first time, maybe he can tell us where it went." She looked back at the viewscreen and the colorful, whirling vortex."Somebody damn well better find it," she said to herself.

 

[CeJay]

Nice stuff here. I particularly liked the interaction between T'Ser and Sarnek. Clearly they're off to a bad start and I forsee plenty of problems for the future.

And I wonder when the crew is going to catch on that somebody in their midst is not who he claims to be. As to who that maybe I really can't be certain yet ...