Tales of the USS Bluefin - 5: "Fatal Distraction"

[TheLoneRedshirt]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter in the Tales of the USS Bluefin saga takes place after the events of "Cascade Effect" and before the events of "Semper Paratus." Commander Dale McBride is the XO during this story, so Commander Inga Strauss will not appear. Likewise, Dr. Calvin Baxter is CMO, so Dr. Octavius Castille will not appear.

Confused? Sorry about that! Hopefully, future stories will have a more logical order. But then, to quote a certain emotionally-inclined Vulcan, "Sometimes you just gotta say, 'screw logic!'"

If you have not read any of the previous Bluefin stories, the setting is the immediate post Dominion war period, circa Earth year 2376. We are following the lives, loves and adventures of the crew of the USS Bluefin, a 70 year old Albacore - class Border Service cutter, commanded by Captain Joseph B. Akinola, a 59 year old human of African descent.

Thanks for stopping by to read the tale. I welcome and appreciate your comments!

And now, on with the story . . .

* * *

Star Station Echo
Level 16 - Merchants' Alley

Commander Dale McBride, executive officer of the USS Bluefin, was on a mission. The tall Texan worked his way through the throngs of beings crowding Merchants' Alley, the retail and trade district of the station. McBride glanced furtively around, making sure he was not followed. Following a circuitous route, he finally came to his destination. With another quick glance over his shoulder, he entered the establishment.

The shop was full of merchandise from various worlds. Exotic smells and colors offered a hint of tantalizing treasures from across the quadrant. Yet, none of these things interested Commander McBride. He saw the Bolian proprieter and their eyes met. The hefty Bolian smiled broadly and gestured for McBride to come over.

"Ah, commander. You have returned, no doubt to complete our transaction?" asked the Bolian.

"I have," said McBride. "But I hope you want be offended if I check out th' merchandise with a tricorder."

The Bolian spread his hands in an expansive gesture. "Not at all. I stand behind all of my merchandise. Of course, a tricorder cannot quantify the sheer ecstacy that such a thing can provide."

"For 3,000 credits, it sure better provide somethin'" McBride groused.

"Ah, but remember, if you pay in gold-pressed latinum, the item is only 2,500." said the Bolian, his eyes glittering.

"Seems I'm a bit short on the latinum," said McBride.

The Bolian made a dismissive gesture. "Not a problem. Your Federation Credits are welcome!"

"Uh-huh. How 'bout I take another gander at the merchandise."

The Bolian took a key from his robes and opened a case. He withdrew a tray covered with a cloth, then retrieved the requested item. "Exquisite, isn't it?" remarked the merchant.

McBride produced a tricorder and opened it, making a few adjustments. He scanned the item for a moment, then checked the display, grunting with satisfaction. "Yep, that's the real deal, alright!"

"You'll take it, then?" asked the Bolian, fairly rubbing his hands in anticipation.

McBride proffered a small disc. "Yep. Here's my credit disc. And don't bother wrappin' it. I'll take care of that m'self."

Mission accomplished, the commander retraced his steps and headed back to the ship.

* * *
USS Bluefin
Star Station Echo, Berth 10

Captain Joseph B. Akinola stripped out of his sweat-soaked karate ghi and into the sonic shower. He enjoyed teaching the Shotokan class in the ship's gym, but he sometimes felt every one of his 59 years after the intense workout. The deep, ultrasonic pulses relaxed his sore muscles while cleaning his body and refreshing his spirit. He stepped out and put on the standard black jumpsuit with red turtleneck. He stepped in front of the mirror to rub beard suppressor lotion on his face. The face that stared back was dignified if not handsome. The years and harsh experiences had added lines to his brown face and a generous sprinkling of gray to his curly black hair. His eyes conveyed a mix of confidence, strength and depth of character. These were eyes that had seen death and danger on numerous occasions without blinking. He straightened, wiped his hands on a towel, and stode out of quarters on his way to engineering.

Main engineering on the Bluefin was located on deck 7 in the secondary hull. It was more cramped than was typical for larger ships, but it had an efficient layout and Chief Gralt kept it clean and in peak operating shape. As Akinola neared engineering, he could hear Lt. Commander Gralt, the Tellarite chief engineer in full cry. Gralt was a crusty veteran who, next to his beloved engines, enjoyed nothing more than berating crewmen and arguing with senior officers. Oddly enough, these annoying traits endeared him to the officers and crew of the cutter.

"By the whore-loving second deity's dripping snout! Harding! How many times have I told you not to shut off the coolant pump like that. You could shear the impellers clean off the shaft! Even my grand-aunt's pet Yariq knows that! Now, do it right!" boomed Gralt. He turned to see Captain Akinola leaning against a bulkhead, smiling at him. "And what the frak do you want? We're busy, you know."

"I just had a need to be around your happy self, commander."

Gralt came over and shook Akinola's hand. "Up yours, sir. Seriously, we're pretty busy, captain. If you want to conduct an inspection . . ."

Akinola shook his head. "No, nothing like that. I just wanted to check with you about a couple of things." he paused, "Intel says the Orions have a new class of raider with type X phasers."

Gralt raised two bushy eyebrows. "Fraaak me," he said softly. He crossed his arms. "Where do you think they got those?"

Akinola shook his head. "That, I don't know. What I care about is whether our shields are going to be up to it if we run into one of these super raiders."

Gralt blew out a breath and rubbed his snout in thought. "Yes, but not for long. Type X phasers will wear down our shields fast. 'Course, we can always adjust shield harmonics, overlap over critical areas like the bridge and nacelles . . ."

"What about that idea you had a while back - generating a second layer of shields?"

"Well - yeah, it's possible, in theory, that is. We'd need to modify the backup shield generators, beef up the grid to handle the extra power . . ."

"Yes or no, Gralt. Can you do it?"

He nodded. "Yes sir. We can get it done."

"How long?"

"Two - three days if we can get into spacedock."

"Let me handle that," said Akinola.

* * *

Star Station Echo
Level 3, Starside Restaurant

Commander McBride and Lt. Commander T'Ser sat at a booth by a viewport with a spectacular view of space. T'Ser had enjoyed her Alaskan King Crab legs, rice pilaf and vegetable medley. She frowned at McBride's plate - a very nice looking steak that he had barely touched.

"Dale? Is something wrong with your food?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh, no, no. It's fine."

She took a sip of wine. "You've barely touched your steak. And, you've barely said two words since we got here. What's wrong?"

McBride rubbed sweaty palms on the legs of his trousers. "T'Ser, we've been together now, what - a year?"

"One year, one month, two weeks, three days, twelve hours, six minutes and 49 seconds," she said, deadpan.

McBride just stared at her.

T'Ser smiled and reached across the table, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Dale! I'm kidding! Now come on, spill it. What's wrong?"

He took a deep breath and put his large hand over hers. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, T'Ser. I know we said we didn't want to press the issue about our future, what with our kinda dangerous line of work and all . . ."

T'Ser raised an eyebrow. "But? . . ."

"But, I want you to know that whatever future I have, I want you to be part of it." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small box. "T'Ser, I hope that you will accept this . . . as a promise from me that we will have a future together."

Now T'Ser was the one who felt nervous. "Dale, I . . ."

"Open it," he said.

She took the small box with trepidation. Squeezing it slightly to release the magnetic clasp, it opened to reveal a sparkling diamond mounted on a gold ring. She simply stared at the radiant stone, momentarily speechless.

"T'Ser, I want you to be my wife. I'm not asking to set a date or even to announce it yet. But I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

T'Ser's vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. "Dale, I love you too. And the ring is beautiful. But I don't know if I'm ready for this. I'm still afraid . . ."

McBride's smile wavered. "Honey, that's okay. The idea kinda scares me too."

T'Ser wiped her eyes. "Dale, I . . . I can't accept this right now. Please understand, I'm not saying I don't want to marry you. But I'm just . . . not ready for this." She looked at him with pleading eyes, "Please try to understand!" She moved the ring box back to McBride's hand.

McBride forced a smile. "Hey! Sure I do. No problem." He took the box with the ring and put it back in his jacket. He glanced up at a wall-mounted chronometer. "Wow, look at the time. I guess we better get back to the ship."

"Dale . . ."

He looked at T'Ser with sadness in his eyes. "Thanks for bein' straight with me." He stood, seeming unsure what to do, then walked toward the exit.

T'Ser sat still for a moment. She took a shaky breath then another swallow of wine. Shaking her head, she stood. "Damn," she said softly.

* * *

Star Station Echo
Level 8, Office of Rear Admiral Morgan Bateson, Commander, 7th Border Service Squadron

Admiral Bateson stood and came around his desk to greet Akinola. "Joseph! Come in, have a seat." he indicated a comfortable looking wing-back chair by a low table. Bateson pulled up the chair's twin and sat across from Akinola. "What can I do for you, captain?"

"Sir, I'm sure you've read the intel on the Orion's new raider."

Bateson's smile faded. "Unfortunately, yes. Beastly thing, from what I've read. It's still a kludge of a design, but it makes up for that with firepower."

"And that's what concerns me, sir. You know as well as I do that our old cutters won't last long under a type X phaser barrage. My engineer, Gralt, has an idea to up-rate the shields on the Alabcores and the Soyuz cutters. The problem is that it violates about five Fleet-Ops directives."

Bateson stroked his beard pensively. "And you want me to grease the skids and get the modifications approved."

Akinola smiled. "I see why they made you an admiral - you know exactly what I'm thinking."

Bateson snorted but had a pleased look on his face. "I know what you're thinking because I was driving a cutter before you were born." He paused, considering. "Have your engineer send me his proposal. I'll get my aide to add enough bureaucratic techno-babble in the request that it will get approved. Fleet Ops loves that kind of stuff! In the mean-time, proceed with your modifications."

"Thank you, admiral."

"Don't thank me until you find out the modifications work! Now, you're not leaving until you share this bottle of Saurian Brandy that the captain of the Snapper gave me . . ."

* * *

 

[DavidFalkayn]

A very promising start. Dale's proposing taking T'Ser by surprise combined with her perfectly understandable cold feet making for a very poignant scene--especially as we know what McBride's fate will be.

Ingenious solution to the problem of the upgunned Orion raiders and Bateson once again shows us that he's a working admiral and not just a paper-pusher.

As regards telling stories out of order: I'm finding that there's a lot of storytelling potential in doing it that way. Yes, it's a bit harder to keep characters straight and all, but it can make for even harder hitting scenes and more poignant scenes such as those between T'Ser and McBride, because you know, in the end, that those lovers are star-crossed. In a way, it's like watching Columbo--you know who commits the murder, the fun is in watching as Columbo puts everything together.

 

[BrotherBenny]

DavidFalkayn said:
A very promising start. Dale's proposing taking T'Ser by surprise combined with her perfectly understandable cold feet making for a very poignant scene--especially as we know what McBride's fate will be.

I've enjoyed the Bluefin stories, just that scene just jolted me. It was well done, don't get me wrong, but I find it cliched to have a proposal or pregnancy revelation just before one or other partner gets killed. The only saving grace about how it's been done by so many people is how the character is affected afterward, and I know that you've done that brilliantly, Redshirt, so no worries. Just my two cents.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Xeris, point well-taken regarding the proposal scene. The clichéd aspect bothers me somewhat as well. But trust me - it's important to the story line. Thanks for the kind words and I do appreciate your two cents!

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

USS Bluefin
Star Station Echo, Spacedock Berth 2

Captain Akinola strode into the crowded wardroom to conduct the staff meeting. The assembled officers rose as he entered.

"Be seated," he said, briskly. He scanned the long table, noting the presence of Commander McBride, Dr. Baxter, Lt. Bane, Lt.(j.g.) Bralus, Lt. Commander T'Ser, and Senior Chief Brin. He also noted that McBride and T'Ser were sitting apart, but he did not comment on that. "Commander Gralt is on the hull with his engineering team working on the shield upgrades, so he's excused." He stood beside the large viewscreen at the end of the wardroom. "Computer, display the image of the Orion up-rated raider."

The viewscreen came to life portraying the image of a rather sinister and ugly vessel. As was typical for Orion ships, it was a hodge-podge of purchased, stolen or replicated technologies from a myriad of races. The wedge shaped hull was considerably larger than the typical raider. Two warp nacelles that looked to be of Klingon design rode on stubby angled struts and the impulse unit on the stern appeared to be from a Federation vessel.

"Highlight weapons systems," said Akinola.

The image of the vessel began to alternately rotate between its X and Y axis. Red boxes appeared around multiple ports while an oblong red rectangle surrounded type X phaser strips on the dorsal and ventral aspects.

Akinola crossed his arms and regarded his officers. "Fleet intel has learned that the Orions now have at least two of these super raiders. There's much we don't know about them, but what we do know is cause for concern." He turned his attention back to the viewscreen. "As you can see, the ship is very well-armed with point-defense phasers as well as two type-x arrays. You can also see what appear to be torpedo tubes located fore and aft. Based on the engine design and hull geometry, estimated top speed is at least warp 9."

There was a whistle and low murmurs at that. The Orions now had a ship that could keep pace with and even outrun some of Starfleet's capitol ships. The weaponry was roughly equivalent to an Intrepid - class starship.

Akinola continued. "Of course, there's much we don't know about these ships - shield strength, counter-measures, sensor efficiency and range, not to mention number or types of torpedoes it may carry. One thing is obvious. This ship is designed to make our lives much harder." He let that settle in a moment. "Questions or comments?"

Lt. Bane raised his hand. "Any idea where they're based, cap'n? Could we take them out with a pre-emptive strike?"

"That's been considered, Mr. Bane. However, we do not have firm intel on their base, but its almost a certainty that it will be deep in Orion space. In addition, Starfleet command cannot spare any capitol ships for a deep strike mission. Computer, display slide two."

The viewscreen changed to show a list of ships under the heading, "Task-force Vole Trap." Lt. Bralus whispered to Bane, "Who comes up with these names?"

"Do you have an insight to share, Mr. Bralus," asked Akinola with a piercing stare.

"Uh, no sir. Sorry."

Akinola called their attention to the screen. "Our mission is basically picket duty. We have seven ships assigned - the Albacore cutters, Bluefin, Scamp, Snapper and Growler, two Soyuz - class cutters, the Bozeman and Ventura, plus the warp tug, Kilimanjaro. We are to seek out and intercept these super raiders if they come into Federation space. At that time, we will either board or engage them. Under no circumstances are these ships to be allowed to freely transit Federation space. They are to be considered hostile warships."

"I would doubt the Orions put the time and effort into building these ships just to allow us to take them away peaceably," noted Dr. Baxter, dryly.

"You're probably right, doctor. Thus the upgrades to our shields. If we do run into one, we can count on a fight. I want each one of you to prepare your departments for this mission. Lt. Bane, if you need to tweak the sensors, now is the time to do so. Any questions? Alright, dismissed."

The officers and chief Brin picked up their PADDS and filed out. As Commander McBride was about to exit, Akinola stopped him. "Just a moment, XO. I need a moment of your time."

* * *

In the corridor as the senior officers went their separate ways, T'Ser tugged on Dr. Baxter's lab coat. "Doctor, may I speak to you - in private?"

Baxter smiled, "Certainly, my dear. Let's go to my office."

Baxter and T'Ser made their way down to deck 7 and sickbay. The white-haired CMO led T'Ser into his office cubicle and offered her a chair while he sat in his own seat. "I can tell something's troubling you, T'Ser. What's wrong."

The Vulcan second officer did not meet his gaze at first. She hesitated before beginning. "Two nights ago, Commander McBride proposed marriage to me," she said.

"And? . . ." prodded Baxter.

"And, I said no. At least 'no' right now." She looked up at Baxter with a look of sadness. "Things have been great between us, Doc. About a year ago, I thought we had come to an agreement that we wouldn't press the future. Things are just so . . . uncertain right now."

"What things are uncertain?" Baxter asked, gently.

T'Ser gestured around her. "All this, . . . life . . . the future. You were in the briefing, Doc. You know what dangerous times we live in!"

Baxter was quiet a moment as he peered at the young woman. "That's not all of it though, is it, T'Ser?"

She broke off eye contact again and shrugged slightly. "No."

Baxter reached over and squeezed her hand. "T'Ser, you know that anything you say to me will be held in strict confidence."

T'Ser smiled weakly as she brushed a tear from her eye. "I'm afraid, doctor. Every relationship I've ever had has ended badly. Not to mention my broken betrothal that has caused an entire planet to be pissed off at me!" The last she said with a tinge of bitterness.

"T'Ser. It sounds to me that your problem is not with the future. Your problem is with the past. Do you love Commander McBride?"

She looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears. "With all my heart! I just don't want to hurt him by failing . . ."

"Stop!" Baxter said with sudden intensity. "Look at me, T'Ser. I understand you've got some emotional baggage and that must be extra hard for a Vulcan. But you cannot go through life fearing failure. I would venture to say that you give yourself too much credit for your past broken relationships. As the very old saying goes, 'it takes two to Tango."

T'Ser cocked an eyebrow at Baxter. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that you need to ask yourself a different question, T'Ser. You've answered the question about whether you love Mr. McBride and you've answered well. Now the important question is this: do you trust him?"

* * *

"Have a seat, Mr. McBride," said Akinola as he closed the wardroom door and took a seat himself. McBride complied and folded his tall frame back into a chair.

"XO, I don't know where your mind was this morning, but it certainly wasn't on the briefing. What the hell is wrong with you?"

McBride shifted uneasily in his seat. "Nothin's wrong, skipper. I was just distracted, that's all."

Akinola's tone softened. "I noticed that you and Commander T'Ser weren't exactly holding hands this morning. Is there a problem there?"

McBride sighed and shared the events of two nights earlier at the restaurant. Akinola listened with a sympathetic ear.

"Dale, I'm sorry that didn't work out. It must hurt like hell. God knows I'm no counselor - I screwed up one marriage thirty years ago and I've blown a half-dozen relationships since then, so I'm not the one to give you relationship advice. But listen - you've got to get your head straight and back in the game. I need you, Dale, and I need you focused! This is a dangerous mission we're facing."

Akinola leaned back in his chair. "Am I coming through, commander."

McBride produced a counterfeit smile, "Loud and clear, sir."

"Good! Do what you have to do in the next 36 hours to get yourself straight. Talk to T'Ser or not - that's your call. But when we pull out of here, I expect 100% from you. I need to know now if you can't produce and I'll leave you on the shore - no hard feelings. You've got plenty of accumulated leave time."

McBride bristled at the suggestion. "I said I'll be ready, sir! I will do my job."

Akinola's gaze never wavered. "See that you do, XO. See that you do."

* * *

 

[Gibraltar]

This is so not going to end well. I wholeheartedly approve of Akinola's candor with McBride... if you can't get your head in the game, get off the ship and we'll come and pick you up later. That's good stuff.

 

[DavidFalkayn]

^
Yeah, this is going to be a gutwrencher--no two ways about it. The conversations between Baxter and T'Ser on one hand and Akinola and McBride were both very well done--very much like having their fathers talking to them. To echo Gibraltar--this is very good stuff.

 

[CeJay]

See I don't appreciate this whole thing about messing with the continuity. It's just so darn depressing to know that things will end very very badly for these guys.

Then again it does make for a very compelling story which has me completely hooked. All of a sudden the enemy, the Orion super-raider, they're nothing but the scenery for a much greater drama to unfold. I still expect plenty of action to come out of this.

I was wondering if you were going to provide some history/background on your interpretation of the Orions. It strikes me that they are an extremely interesting race which hasn't really been explored much. There appear to be many different interpretations and I'm really curious about yours. E.g. are your Orions the same thing as the syndicate? Or are those two different entities? Is there a central government or just roaming families? So many questions.

I'll be following this very closely with answers or not.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

CeJay, it's funny you should ask about the Orions. Dulak and I have been communicating about that very question. There's not a lot of "canon" info on the Orions. My take, based on stuff I've gleaned from Memory Alpha and some ST novels, is that there are at least two races of Orions - greens and reds being predominant. The Syndicate is analogous to the Mafia - family based, close knit and ruthless. Not all Orions are in the Syndicate and many are honest merchants, traders, etc, but almost all Orions fear the Syndicate to some degree. In my universe, the green females and red males produce pheromones that attract the opposite sex. Green males and red females lack these pheromones. Dulak had the interesting idea that the Syndicate uses a drug to boost the pheromone level on the green slave girls, but there are harmful side afffects. Chief Solly Brin (a red Orion) uses an inhibitor (a once a month hypospray) to keep his pheromones under control. Chief Brin's father, an honest merchant, was killed by his brother (Solly's uncle) who is a "Grand Supreme" in the Syndicate (kind of like a Sicilian Mafia "Don"). The Syndicate pretty much IS the government. There are probably some figurehead political types, but the Syndicate pulls the strings. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking with it!

Regarding continuity, when I started on this venture I had no intention of introducing the Commander McBride character. McBride started as a passing mention in the opening story. I became intrigued with the character's background, however, so I decided to go back in time and introduce him in "Cascade Effect." Then, I've had a couple of requests to tell the story of his death (something I wanted to do, also). So now, my continuity line is a mess. Sorry 'bout that!

Glad you're enjoying it, regardless of the hash I've made of the continuity.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

USS Bluefin
Star Station Echo, Spacedock Berth 2

Captain Akinola walked through the Bluefin, taking in the sights and sounds as the crew prepared the cutter for departure. Crewmen moved quickly through corridors, orders were shouted, and there was a sense of anticipation in the air. Their ship was about to take to the void of space, once more.

Akinola liked to practice the art of "leadership by walking around," whenever possible. He felt that it was important to be around the crew so that they could see him and he in turn could greet, encourage and occasionally joke with his crew. He tool a secret pride in knowing the names of all 122 officers and crew on the ship. There might be bigger, faster and more famous ships, but in Akinola's mind there was no better crew or ship in the fleet to command. The crew, in return, had a deep, abiding respect and affection for the "old man."

The captain finished his "walk-about" and took the ladder back to deck one and the bridge.

* * *

"Captain on the Bridge!" said Lt. Bralus, the Bolian watch officer. Bralus reqlinquished the command chair and took his place at the helm.

Akinola took his place in the center seat. "Lt. Bane, sound departure stations and request clearance from spacedock control."

"Aye sir!" said the Assistant OPs officer, who turned to carry out his orders.

Akinola could sense the changes in the ship as they disconnected from the spacedock connections and shifted to internal power. There were subtle hums and vibrations from air handlers and gravity coils, the thump of air-tight bulkheads and hatches, and even a miniscule change in the air pressure that made him swallow to equalize his ears. He allowed himself a faint smile at the pleasure these sounds gave him.

"Captain? Spacedock has cleared us for departure, route Beta until we clear the yard limits. He advises we have incoming traffic on route Alpha."

"Very well, Mr. Bane. Please acknowledge and convey my compliments to Commander D'Riskaal." Akinola tapped his comm badge. "Bridge to Engineering."

"Engineering, Gralt here."

"Commander, we're cleared for departure. What's your status?"

"Ready for departure, captain. All impulse speeds available. Warp speed available to factor 9.2"

"Acknowledged, commander, and thank you. Bridge out." Akinola turned his attention back to the bridge. "Navigator, plot course . . ." he double-checked his PADD, "233 mark 48. Helm, ahead slow on thrusters until we clear the yard, then one half impulse to the outer markers."

Both the navigator and helmsman acknowledged and began to implement their orders. There was a muffled 'clank' and rumble as the docking clamps withdrew from the cutter. "I have a green board, captain. We're clear to maneuver," said Bralus.

"Take us out, lieutenant, forward angle on in-coming traffic, please."

Slowly, the cutter eased out of spacedock and into the "yard." As they moved passed other docks, they passed the incoming Miranda - class starship, the USS Halifax, coming in for maintenance work. The Halifax signaled a salute with its proximity comm-lasers, which the Bluefin returned. It struck Akinola how many old vessels were still active and serving decades past their projected service life, Bluefin and her seven Alabcore- class sisters included.

Momentarily, Lt. Bralus brought Akinola out of his reverie. "Coming up on yard limit, sir."

"Very well. Bring impulse engines on-line and take us to one-half impulse."

Bralus smoothly advanced the controls of the twin Consolidated Starfire impulse engines to Run 5. The hum of the ion-mass drivers caused a slight vibration in the deck plates as their power was translated into thrust. The cutter quickly picked up speed, approaching 40% of the speed of light.

"Once more, into the breech," Akinola said, sotto voce.

* * *
Orion Syndicate Vessel Salturias
Standard orbit, Verex III.

Supreme Deven Marak-Sar, commander of the up-rated Orion raider Salturias and heir-apparent to the Marak-Sar Syndicate family, was growing more impatient with each passing second. He chose to vent his frustration on his second in command, a one-eyed green orion male, named Rash. "Explain to me why the slaves haven't been properly loaded and secured, Rash! We should have departed orbit ten minutes ago!"

Rash was not perturbed by the supreme's outburst. To him, it was the just Deven's normal way of communicating. "The compound can only beam up five at a time, supreme. Then the shields have to close for five minutes before the next group can transport. It's standard protocol."

Deven fumed, "I should flog the mis-begotten idiot that implemented that protocol."

Wisely, Rash decided not to point out that Deven's father, Grand Supreme Frel Marak-Sar, was the "idiot" that had ordered the security measure. Instead, he said, "It should not take much longer, supreme. And with our speed, we will still arive at the Vega colony ahead of schedule."

At this, Deven's mood improved. "Ha! Well-said, Rash!" He grinned broadly, revealing bejeweled teeth. "And this time, on a direct path through Federation space. No more slinking along the border, making furtive dashes in and out of their precious domain!" He whirled and settled in the command throne with exagerated drama. "I actually hope we encounter one of their border vessels - we will carve it up like a roast kaminga!"

Rash turned back to his station. "Be careful what you wish for," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

USS Bluefin
Sector 10145

Perspiration glistened on Commander McBride's brow and arms as he pummeled the heavy bag hanging in the ship's gymnasium. His arms and shoulders burned and his breathing was labored, but he continued to bore into the body bag, venting his frustration and pent-up energy.

"So . . . what did the bag do to tick you off?"

McBride grabbed the bag to steady it and turned to face T'Ser who was already dressed for her duty shift. "I'm not ticked off," he panted, "Just . . . getting in some exercise."

T'Ser raised an eyebrow. "Looked pretty intense to me. I've been standing here two minutes."

McBride unlaced his gloves with his teeth and pulled them off. "What do you want, T'Ser?"

T'Ser was taken back by the flatness in McBride's tone, but she chose to overlook it. "I thought we should talk, Dale. Especially in light of what happened."

McBride snatched a towel off of a stack and wiped his face and neck. "Don't you mean over what didn't happen? I think that spoke volumes, don't you?"

T'Ser spread her hands in frustration. "What do you want me to do, Dale? Apologize? I thought we had an understanding that we wouldn't make any rash promises about the future!"

"Rash promises?" McBride looked incredulous. "There was nothing rash in what I did, T'Ser. I've thought about this long and hard. I decided to take the risk and lay it on the line - I want to spend the rest of my life with you!"

T'Ser shook her head. "So you think that a compressed piece of carbon shoved on my finger will make it happen? Get real, Dale! You think some ritual, some ceremony will make our lives more secure somehow - our relationship permanent? Let me tell you - I've got a bad track record with rituals. One nearly ruined my life once and I'm not in a big hurry to repeat that mistake!"

McBride looked stunned. "That was different T'Ser. You didn't have a choice in your betrothal . . ."

T'Ser interuppted, hotly, "Like you're giving me a choice now? By the Other, Dale - you're putting me in the same situation! Either I go alone with your engagement and wedding or that's it? What kind of choice do I have in that? How dare you make our relationship into some kind of a bargaining chip!" She stood closer, her face flushed emerald. "I love you, Dale, but I will NOT choose marriage as the only way of keeping you!" She spun on her heel and stormed out of the gym.

McBride watched her storm off. Part of him longed to stop her, but he stood his ground. Frustrated and confused, he turned and punched the bag, scraping the knuckles of his unprotected fist. He held his bleeding knuckles to his mouth for a moment, then he began to walk slowly out of the gym to his quarters.

* * *

 

[DavidFalkayn]

The stage is set..the characters on the stage...the tragedy is about to commence.

A very powerful scene between T'Ser and McBride. As is almost always the case, both parties have legitimate positions. T'Ser does have cold feet and Dale is putting her in nearly the same position that she had escaped from.

You don't know what you have until it's gone...

 

[Gibraltar]

There was a great deal of raw emotion in that scene between T’Ser and McBride. The irony being, of course, that both of them love each other fiercely, only each clings so desperately to their own ideas of how that love should or must be expressed. And that makes the loss to come just that much more goddamn tragic.

You’ve done a masterful way of setting up this story, and in so doing giving us a glimpse into where this crew has been prior to our coming aboard with them in your pilot story. Far from being predictable, you’re delivering a tale that’s deeply poignant and shows us your existing characters in greater detail. Very, very well done.

 

[TrekkieMonster]

Well, there's not much more I can say that hasn't already been said above. And I agree with all of it. It's amazing how you've already made us care about these characters, so much so that the angst over McBride's future is almost palpable (in a good way.) Also, regarding that very last scene, I have to say -- I wish I could explain exactly why this is the case, but that very last big about him hitting the bag and then putting his knuckle in his mouth ..., somehow that just made him all the more real and 3 dimensional to me. Maybe it's because it's such a "normal" and typical thing for someone to do in that situation; something I've done; something a lot of writers might have overlooked. Nicely done. I'm looking foward (albeit, with some trepidation) to the continuation of this story.)

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Thanks for the comments! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

I have to admit that this is a difficult tale to write. I've grown to like the McBride character - odd, since he was initially just a prop, a "throw-away" character, like a red-shirt in a TOS episode.

I'm going to miss the tall Texan when this is over.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

USS Bluefin
On patrol in Sector 10145

The four non-coms settled around the make-shift table in the armory for a game of poker. Senior Chief Solly Brin pulled up an ancient swivel chair, while CPO Deryx and Corpsman Sanders sat on stun grenade crates. Chief Brundy, their new comrade who recently transferred from Deep Space 5, settled his massive frame on a foot locker, which creaked ominously under his weight.

"Almost forgot something!" said Deryx, the Denobulan chief, speaking around a strongly fragrant Ferengi cigar. He walked to a corner and picked up what seemed to be a photon mortar shell. It turned out to be a hollow casing which concealed several bottles of a glowing, blue liquid. He grabbed a bottle and began to splash a small amount into the four mugs of coffee.

A slight look of concern formed on Brundy's dark, broad features. "What is that stuff?" he asked with suspicion.

"Orion Nectar," replied Chief Deryx. "It'll add a jolt to your java."

"And take a few brain cells hostage," added Sanders who held out his mug for a bigger shot.

"Who's dealing?" asked Brin. "Sanders? You start."

"Gentlemen, the game is five-card stud. One-eyed Jacks are wild," the Corpsman said as he shuffled the deck.

"So, Brundy," asked Brin, "How do you like working with Commander Gralt in engineering."

Brundy grinned and shook his head. "I thought I was back in boot camp! I haven't heard language like that since my D.I. ran us through drills. He knows his stuff, though."

Deryx snorted. "I think he makes up most of that stuff he spouts just to impress the crew. What the frak is a Yariq anyway?"

Sanders began dealing the cards. "A Yariq? It's an animal native to Tellar - kind of a cross between a mule and an alligator. Stubborn with a lot of teeth."

Brundy's eyes suddenly got wide. He bolted off the foot locker and stood ramrod straight. "Attention on the deck!" he bellowed. To Chief Brundy's consternation, his three comrades merely remained seated with bemused expressions on their faces.

Captain Akinola stood by the doorway with a mug of coffee. "Stand easy, Chief Brundy. I couldn't sleep and was just out for a stroll and wanted to see what you pirates were up to."

Brundy had a puzzled expression on his face and retook his seat.

"The Captain spent most of his career as a working man, Chief Brundy," explained Senior Chief Brin. "When I was a new CPO like you, the captain was the senior chief sitting in this very chair."

"You want in the game, skipper?" asked Sanders, who began to rise from his crate.

Akinola shook his head. "Keep your seat, Sandy. I just wanted a bit of that deuterium tank cleaner you've got hidden in the corner. Besides, Solly cheats."

Brin rolled his eyes and shook his head. Brundy again seemed agitated that the captain knew of the booze stash.

Akinola smiled at Brundy's consternation. "Chief Brundy, who the hell do you think came up with that hidey hole in the first place?"

Deryx retrieved the glowing bottle and poured a bit into Akinola's steaming mug. The captain took a swallow and winced. "God, that's awful. Where did you get this, Solly?"

Brin feigned a hurt look. "That's some of the finest Orion Nectar in the quadrant captain! It was lovingly aged on Verex IV in a mold-wood cask with a mix of Denebian-slug spleens, Ferengi ear wax, Targ piss, and filtered through the hair of a green skinned slave girl, then buried in a peat bog for a century."

"You could've saved a lot of time and effort by just bottling the Targ piss, senior chief."

Brin looked at the three non-coms. "See, that's what happens when you become an officer. You start drinking Earl Green tea and holding your pinky out from your china cup."

"That's Earl Grey tea, senior," corrected Akinola.

Brin winked at his poker buddies. "I rest my case, skipper."

* * *

Orion Syndicate Vessel Salturias
Departing the Verex system

Deven Marak-Sar strolled through the hold of his vessel, admiring the confined slaves of various races that he would soon sell on the Vega colony. He paused by one cell and leered at a stunningly beautiful green-skinned Orion woman.

"Teeva, you look ravishing. It's a shame I can't provide the accomodations to which you are accustomed, but then, that's the price for infidelity."

Teeva lunged at the doorway but was stopped by the forcefield. The energy barrier flashed with blue sparks and the Orion woman was hurled to the squalid deck. She recovered quickly and glared at him with fire in her eyes. "I should have killed you when I had the chance, you Hosh'lorm."

Deven's smile faltered slightly at the insult. He pressed a stud on a control device he held. Instantly, Teeva's head snapped back convulsivley as the agonizer collar activated the pain receptors in her body. She gasped from the pain and the paralyzing effect of the agonizer. Momentarily, Deven released the control and Teeva's rigid body went limp.

"I'm sorry, my dear, did you say something?" Deven asked, a taunting note to his voice. "I'm sure I'll get a fine price from the Nausicaans for you. Sadly, you probably won't last long in their care. The Nausicaans tend to play a bit . . . rough with their play things. But I'm sure you will provide them with excellent entertainment value. That is, while you last." He placed the agonizer control back in a pocket of his tunic. "Perhaps we can chat again before we reach the Vega system. I do enjoy our conversations!" He strode away, leaving the Orion woman curled in a fetal position, trembling with pain and rage.

"I will kill you, . . . Deven Marak-Sar," she gasped through clenched teeth, "with my bare hands if necessary!"

* * *

Lt. Commander T'Ser pretended to study a PADD as she sat in the command chair on the bridge, but her mind was on Dale McBride. Why do I bother with all of this? she thought to herself, better to make a clean break and both of us move on. She shook her head, realizing she was kidding herself. She was deeply in love with McBride, as infuriatingly stubborn and closed-minded as he could be. But she was at a loss as to how to resolve their impasse.

She took a deep breath to clear her thoughts and to relieve the accumulated stress. T'Ser looked around the quiet bridge. Lt. Fralk manned the helm and Ensign Vashtee sat at navigation. Most other stations were vacant, although Lt. Bane had partially disappeared under the sensor station, still attempting to tweak more range and sensitivity out of the long-range system. She walked over to his station.

"Mr. Bane, have you ever considered marriage?" she asked.

There was a muffled thonk, followed by a shower of sparks and a series of profane Australian colloquialisms. Bane backed out from under the console, rubbing his head and regarding T'Ser with a raised eyebrow. "Crikey, commander, you gave me a start! Did you ask what I think you asked?"

"I was just wondering if you had ever considered marriage with anyone?" she asked in a reasonable tone.

Fralk and Vashtee exchanged glances and smiles. This was going to be good!

"Ah, well, no. Not specifically, that is. Why do you ask?"

It dawned on T'Ser that she had an expectant audience. Her cheeks began to take on a greenish blush. "No reason, lieutenant. Just . . . making conversation."

"Yes ma'am." Bane said, confused. "And yourself?"

T'Ser blinked. "What about myself?"

"Have you considered marriage?"

T'Ser's eyes flashed. "I hardly think that's any of your business, Mr. Bane!" she returned to the center seat and focused her attention studiously on the viewscreen.

"Ah, right. Sorry." Bane turned his gaze helplessly toward Fralk and Vashtee, both who had become fascinated with their control boards. "I'll just . . . get back to work." He disappeared under the console once more, wishing he knew what the bloody hell had just happened.

* * *

McBride sat in the dim light of his quarters, the velvet box containing the source of all his troubles in his hand. He opened it and regarded the gleaming diamond. Such a small thing to create so much heartache. He closed the box and placed it on the dresser.

He walked to the sink and splashed some water on his face to help him wake up. Sleep had evaded his this night, but his duty shift would begin in an hour, so he had to wake up.

He considered going to the wardroom for breakfast, perhaps meet T'Ser and talk for a few minutes. But the thought of another confrontation created a gnawing sensation in his gut.

Instead, he took his mug to the cabin's servitor and filled it with coffee. Mixing in an ample portion of sugar and cream, he sat again in his desk chair and stared out the viewport as the stars and time streaked by.

* * *

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Ah, CPO's they'll never change--God bless 'em! Even though Akinola's got the four pips, he's a CPO at heart--he just got demoted was all.

And yet again, we get to see just how star-crossed T'Ser and McBride are--time is streaking by and before they know it, it'll be gone.

Good stuff.

 

[Gibraltar]

[shakes fist] Post, damn you sir! POST! [/shakes fist]

Seriously, though, great stuff. I very much enjoyed the banter between Akinola and his chiefs. And McBride... damn... I'm guessing he won't be returning to his cabin. You've nailed this story in every aching detail, and I'm torn between wanting to continue it and wishing for a different ending that I know must be denied me.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

USS Bluefin
On patrol in Sector 10145

McBride made his way down the narrow, curving corridor toward the turbo-life, squeezing past crewmen in the midst of the shift change. He leaned against the wall, waiting on the lift so he could continue on to the bridge. When the lift arrived and the doors opened, T'Ser stepped out and stopped when she saw McBride.

"Commander," she said, neutrally.

"T'Ser . . ." he began, then stopped, a knot suddenly forming in his throat.

The beautiful Vulcan held his gaze for a moment, then averted her eyes and began to move in the direction of her quarters. McBride hesitated a moment, then called after her. "T'Ser, wait!" He caught up with her and gently grabbed her arm. She turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised in question.

"What is it, commander?"

He swallowed. "I just . . . I want to apologize for my behavior yesterday. You didn't deserve that."

T'Ser's expression softened a degree. "Thank you," she said, simply. "I'm sorry, too, Dale. But we've hit an impasse and I don't see a way around it."

Dale nodded. "I know. But I was up most of the night - thinking about us, about what you said . . ." He winced as he realized the time. "Look, could we have dinner this evening and just . . . talk? I promise - no ultimatums."

T'Ser allowed a small smile. "Okay, Dale. But you better get on to the bridge. The captain's already there and I don't think he's in a great mood." She touched his face gently. "I'll see you later."

McBride smiled back at her. "You can count on it!" He turned and trotted back to the lift.

* * *

McBride made it to the bridge before Alpha shift began with less than a minute to spare. The captain raised a questioning eyebrow at him but said nothing. The XO made his way to the tactical station, replacing Senior Chief Brin, and logged into his control board. After allowing the Alpha shift bridge crew to get settled in, Akinola called, "Status?"

Each station reported in. The ship was patrolling at a leisurely warp 2, long-range scanners were active with no contacts, and all ship's systems were operating normally.

"Very well," said the captain. "XO, have the phaser crew run drills and have the torpedo crews load two Mark 22s in the forward launcher with Mark VI torpedoes loaded aft and on standby forward."

McBride turned to Akinola in surprise. "Mark 22s, sir?" The Mark 22 "rat trap" torpedoes utilized an electro-magnetic pulse to disable a ship's warp drive and other systems. They were effective against small ships but usually did not work against larger, better shielded vessels.

Akinola nodded. "I know, XO. It's a long-shot, but I'd rather stop one of those super-raiders quickly rather than slug it out. If they don't work, we've got the Mark VI fish to do the job."

"Aye, sir," said McBride as he turned to carry out his orders.

* * *

Orion Syndicate Vessel Salturias
Sector 10146, running at warp 8.9

Two small, Red Orion children occupied a cell in the hold of the super-raider. 10 year old Rani and his sister, 6 year old Stori, huddled together on the lumpy, dirty mattress in the corner of their cell. It had been a few weeks, months? Rani did not know the amount of time since he and his little sister were taken by the men with the knives and guns. He remembered the shouting, the screams of their mother, the harsh laughs of the men and . . .

He could not, would not think of the rest. Part of him wished he had died with their mother, but Rani felt a strong protective instinct to take care of little Stori, who had not spoken since that night.

Rani had decided that none of the bad men would touch him or Stori again, not without a fight, anyway. Though small for his age, Rani was tough and smart. When they had been led on board the ship, a scuffle had broken out between another prisoner and a guard. In the brief melee, Rani had picked up a small piece of plastic and palmed it. Fortunately, the guards had not noticed, nor searched him again and he had secreted it in their shared mattress. He had spent hours working the end of the plastic against the rough metal of the toilet hole in the deck, until he had created a small, sharp dagger. He was smart enough to know that any of the bad men could overpower him should he brandish it, but it made him feel better anyway.

Rani's thoughts were interrupted as one of the keepers, Rani thought of him as the "Fat man," came to the door of the cell with a bucket and a leering grin.

"Hello, my pretty lad," said the fat green Orion. His face was marked with scars of rank and conquest as well as a sheen of perspiration. His ample green belly hung out of an open vest and over leather breeches. A wicked looking pistol hung from his belt as did a long-bladed knife. Rani could smell the man's rank body odor across the cell. He curled up closer to Stori in a protective embrace.

Fat man lurched into the cell and dropped the food bucket before the mattress. Rani didn't like the gleam in the man's yellow eyes.

"The Supreme doesn't like us samplin' the merchandise," began the pirate, "but then, what he don't know won't hurt him, will it?" He grinned a wicked grin, displaying crooked, brown teeth. "Maybe I'll just come back later for a taste, eh?"

Fat man laughed, an unpleasant, low rumbling sound that ended in a coughing spasm. He spat a wad of dark phlegm into the bucket. "Enjoy your meal, pretty ones." He hitched up his belt and waddled out of the cell, reactivating the force field.

Rani scurried over to the bucket of food, his hunger over-riding his feelings of revulsion. He brought it back to the mattress and offered a piece of grisly meat to Stori.

"Stori, you've got to eat something!" he said, plaintively. The little girl shook her head and buried her face in the mattress. Rani sighed and took a bite of the tasteless, fatty meat, trying to forget the not-so-veiled threats of Fat man.

* * *

USS Bluefin
On patrol in Sector 10145

"Sir!" said Lt. Bane, "We're receiving a message from the Growler. Unidentified transient vessel in sector 10146 on a heading toward the Vega system at high warp. It's beyond their pursuit range, though. Bearing 178 mark 110." Bane paused, readjusting his sensors. "That's confirmed sir, sector 10146." He looked up, "Definitely in our intercept range, cap'n."

Akinola straightened in his chair, "Navigator, lay in an intercept course on that bearing. Helm, ahead maximum warp!"

Both officers acknowledged their orders as the cutter banked onto a new course as the warp engines propelled the small ship through subspace. "Time to intercept?" asked Akinola.

Ensign Lexrel, the Edosian navigator responded. "On current course and speed, one hour, seventeen minutes."

"Thank you, ensign. Yellow alert, people. Let's get everyone awake and ready for battle stations in one hour," Akinola ordered. He leaned back in his chair, absently rubbing his chin as his mind raced with possible scenarios.

* * *

 

[Gibraltar]

Well, you’ve certainly given me cause to hate these particular Orions in just a few paragraphs. Very descriptive, and only alluding to their heinous crimes actually allows the reader’s mind to conjure up all manner of ghastliness. I hope, in the fracas to come, Solly Brin has a chance to break the Fat Man into many, many little pieces. In fact, I think I’ve got a terrific EMH program that could help him with that cough…

 

[DavidFalkayn]

I agree with Gibraltar as regards the Orions, in that, by taking a page out of Hitchcock's book, you've made these Orions come across as far more menacing than if you had been more graphic. These clods are going to deserve everything that's coming to them.

And again, the tragedy of T'Ser and McBride--we always think that we have tomorrow--or this evening...