Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"

Tales of the USS Bluefin – 7: “The More Things Change”

Chapter One

Stardate 54068.2 (25 January 2377)
USS Bluefin
Star Station Echo – Berth 14

Captain’s log – Stardate 54068.2. The past few weeks have been blessedly uneventful. Outside of one routine rescue mission and two supply runs, we’ve enjoyed a bit of down-time following the Bluefin’s encounter with a rogue Starfleet vessel and my own journey to Verex III. I think Admiral Bateson has calmed down a bit too. He seemed his old, friendly self when he called with the news this morning – Starfleet’s stop-loss order has been rescinded. I guess we can now say that the war is truly over. There is a down-side, however. Many good, experienced people will be resigning from Starfleet and also from the Border Service over the next few months. I fear we may lose some good people from the Bluefin. If so, I wish them all the best.

This morning we head out on routine patrol near the Klingon border and the Molari Badlands. At present, there are no reports of unusual pirate activity but we are entering a period of more intense ion storms. I hope both the freighter captains and the smugglers have the good sense to avoid the badlands for a while.

Captain Joseph Akinola took a sip of coffee, and spoke again. “Computer, save log entry and close.”

Acknowledged, replied the computer.

Akinola reached forward to set the coffee mug on his desk and winced as pain shot through his left side. He sat back in the chair with a wry expression on his face. Obviously, his ribs and chest muscles were not quite healed, despite the ministrations of the Eschaton’s fine medic, and the follow-up treatment by Dr. Castille. Akinola had received a brutal beating at the hands of Lortho Elix and three of his henchmen the previous month. Lortho was a prince in the Orion Syndicate – heir apparent to the Elix cartel. Akinola smiled as he recalled how he had meted out more punishment than he received. Still, at 60 years of age, the old cutter skipper didn’t heal as quickly as when he was a young man. With a grunt, he stood from the chair and reluctantly headed toward sick bay.

* * *

Commander Inga Strauss, the young executive officer of the Bluefin, sat in the ward room, finishing her breakfast of mixed fruit and a cup of Raktajino. The door slid open and Lt. Nigel Bane entered, carrying a tray of food. He hesitated when he saw Inga, then proceeded around the long table and placed the tray down.

“D’you mind if I sit here, Commander?” he asked in a hesitant tone.

Inga nodded and offered a nervous smile. “Not at all, Nigel. Please - have a seat.”

Nigel did so, and began spreading Vegemite on toast before digging into his sausage and eggs. The two maintained an uneasy silence for several minutes.

Inga decided to break the silence. “How is Jack doing?”

Nigel shrugged. “Better, I guess. He’s still in the station’s infirmary. As soon as he’s well enough, he’ll be transferred back to Earth to face charges.”

“Oh.” There didn’t seem to be much else Inga could say without venturing into painful areas. She decided to change the subject.

“The stop-loss order has been rescinded,” remarked Inga in a conversational tone.

“Has it?” replied Bane between bites. “That’s interesting.” More silence.

Strauss decided to go out on a limb. “The Captain told me that you offered your resignation.”

Bane didn’t say anything for a moment. He took a sip of tea, and then nodded. “That’s true.”

“Why would you do that?” she asked.

Nigel didn’t say anything for a moment as he chewed his food thoughtfully. Finally, he placed his fork and knife on his plate and slid the tray aside. He leaned forward to speak.

“Inga, I violated my oath as an officer by withholding information about Jack’s Syndicate connection. That’s no small matter.” His voice was quiet, tinged with guilt and frustration.

“Nigel, there were extenuating circumstances! He’s your brother, for God’s sake! And you did reveal his connection and helped capture a rogue ship – that’s no small thing.”

“And almost got you killed in the process!” he said sharply, the emotion breaking through.

Gott im Himmel! She thought. That’s what this is all about. “Nigel – look at me! I’m a big girl! I survived a tour during the Dominion war and nearly having the Thunderchild blown up under me. Our first officer was killed and suddenly I’m an XO at age 28!” She reached across the narrow table and gently placed her hand on his face. “I do appreciate your concern for me – it’s very sweet but it’s misplaced. I’m a Starfleet officer and capable of making my own decisions regarding my safety. I was in command of this ship when we went after the Greeley. It was my decision that we go on board.”

He shook his head. “I should never have let you.”

She rose and looked at him with a mix of affection and irritation. “Do us both a favor, Nigel. Get over this and get your head straight! I know you care for me . . . and I have deep feelings for you also. But we can’t let our feelings interfere with our duty. If you can’t understand that, well . . . we may not have a future.” She picked up her tray to leave. “My shift’s about to start. Think about what I said.”

Nigel watched her leave the wardroom. He picked up a piece of toast, looked at it, and tossed it back on the tray, his appetite gone.

* * *

“Your ribs have healed nicely, Captain, but you’re going to experience some residual pain and stiffness for some time to come. I hate to break it to you, but you’re not a young man any more,” said Dr. Castille as he folded the medical scanner.

“What an astute observation,” said Akinola, dryly. “When can I start working out again?”

Castille pulled a large analgesic patch out of a cabinet and applied it to Akinola’s side. “You can start back with stretching and maybe some katas, but no contact sparring! I‘m serious, Captain – you let Brin or some young buck poke you in the side and you’ll be right back in a bio-bed! Take it slow and easy. If you get a little sore, that’s okay. If your side starts to throb, you’ve over-done it. Understood?”

Akinola nodded and pulled his under shirt back on. “Got it. Thanks, Doc.”

“Don’t mention it.” Castille jammed his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. He frowned and stared at the deck in obvious thought. He directed his gaze back up at Akinola “I hear the stop-loss order has expired.”

“Rescinded,” corrected Akinola. “You heard right.”

Castille sighed and shook his head. “I was afraid of that. It looks like we’re going to lose Rice, then.”

“Oh?”

Castille nodded. “Yeah. She wants to go to medical school. Part of me is very pleased – she’s got what it takes to make a fine physician, but I hate to lose her – she’s a damn good corpsman.”

“That she is, Doc.” And so it begins, Akinola thought.

* * *

Akinola left the gym, heading for his quarters and a shower. Rank hath its privileges, he mused, anticipating a steaming-hot shower. His quarters had a combination water/sonic shower. He seldom used the water feature, and only when they were in port, but there were fewer things that felt better than steaming-hot water to relieve sore muscles.

After a quick but restorative shower, he dressed in his uniform and headed out of his quarters to begin his duty shift. He hoped to have the Bluefin under way within the hour.

He stepped onto the turbo-lift which was already occupied by Lt. Delta Simms, decked out in an engineering jumpsuit with the sleeves pushed up. Her curly hair was askew and a steak of grease hid some of the freckles that traversed her nose. Simms was a cute red-head from Alabama who had started on the Bluefin as the beta-shift helm officer, but her knack for all things mechanical caught the eye of Chief Engineer Gralt and she found herself transferred to engineering.

“Mornin’ Captain,” she said in her pleasant drawl.

Akinola smiled and nodded. “Lieutenant. Been busy this morning, have you?”

Simms smiled in return, “Yes sir. We’ve been upgradin’ the engines on the Stallions. Kind of a messy job, but all four Stallions are good to go now.” The Star Stallions were auxiliary spacecraft larger than Type-10 shuttles, but smaller than runabouts. They were the work horses of the Border Service, often used in rescue operations when transporters were not practical. What the Stallions lacked in creature comforts, they made up for with powerful impulse engines, tractor beams and torpedo launchers.

“Good! Glad to hear it,” replied Akinola as the lift stopped. The two officers stepped out of the lift car and onto the bridge. Simms walked to the aft engineering station and logged in. Akinola settled into the center seat. He noted with satisfaction that the alpha-shift bridge crew was in place and busy.

* * *

25 January 2377
Seattle, North America, Earth
The home of T’Ser’s parents – Sarnok and T’San
0745 local time

T’Ser held the steaming mug of tea in her hands, savoring the warmth as she stood on the upper deck of her parent’s houseboat. The sweat shirt and jeans she wore provided scant protection from the wintry mix of snow and sleet that fell on her. But the cold, while biting, helped her focus her thoughts.

She had been home on leave for nearly a month. Captain Akinola had granted her three months to return to Earth to “mull things over.” In truth, she was still undecided as to her future and wondered if three months or three years would be enough to give her clarity. Her recent past, in her estimation, was still a confusing jumble of events and emotions that she found difficult to untangle. The death of Dale McBride, the Bluefin’s former XO and the love of her life had been hard enough. But then, her mentor and friend, Dr. Calvin Baxter had also died under mysterious circumstances. And most recently, Sarnek, her one-time antagonist had wanted to enter into a relationship with her! It dawned on her that while on the Bluefin she might never get her head straight. Captain Akinola had been kind enough to give her time away, even suggesting that she consider a transfer to another ship.

T’Ser took a sip of the hot tea, enjoying the warmth of the sweet liquid as it went down her throat. The idea of leaving the Bluefin had not occurred to her before. She had served on the elderly cutter for more than seven years. It had been “home” to her – even more so than here in Seattle where she had grown up. Now, though . . .

The sound of the door opening interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see her father, Sarnok, step out onto the snow covered deck. He was wearing a parka with the hood pulled up over his head and his hands jammed into deep pockets. He walked over to T’Ser, a kind expression on his face.

“So daughter, have you forgotten how to dress for winter?”

She regarded him with an affectionate smile. “No, Dad. I’ve just been enjoying the snow and the solitude.” She looked out over the other houseboats and the moored boats and sailing vessels covered in a thin veil of white. “It’s very peaceful here.”

He nodded, “Yes, it is. Your mother and I are fortunate to have found this place. It is so very different from Vulcan.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, you and Mom are very different from most Vulcans,” she said, playfully.

He smiled. “True, true.” His expression became more serious. “Have you found what you’re seeking, T’Ser?”

She sighed and looked back out over the water. “Not yet,” she admitted, “But I think to find my future, I’ll have to move on from my past.”

* * *

After T’Ser’s parents left for work, T’Ser sat on the bed of the tiny guest room, PADD in hand. After staring at it for several minutes, she accessed the Star Fleet net and searched until she found a particular e-form. Before her, on the softly glowing screen, was the heading: “REQUEST FOR DUTY REASSIGNMENT.”

* * *

 

noooooooooooooo! If you move T'Ser away then you'll have to start a new series-I don't want to lose track of her! Her, Brin and Akinola are your best characters! Inga's ok...but T'Ser is great! Say it aint so!

 

Off to a terrific start. It's obvious the last mission took a lot out of the crew as a whole, and it'll take them some time to find their bearings again. T'Ser is especially worrisome, though it might do her some good to get out and stretch her legs on another ship or two.

 

Life is all about change, but I'm sure there'll still be some constants such as Captain Akinola and Commander Gralt. As for T'Ser, I'm sure she'll find a ship worthy of her talents and abilities where she can get her bearings and find herself once again.

 

Chapter Two

Stardate 54068.4 (25 January 2377)
USS Bluefin
en route to the Klingon border, warp 4

Departure from Star Station Echo had been routine and uneventful. The Bluefin moved through the void at a leisurely warp 4, en route to their patrol area. With everything running smoothly, Commander Strauss approached Akinola.

"Sir, May I have a few minutes to discuss some personnel matters?"

"Certainly, XO. My ready room. Lt. Sarnek? You have the bridge."

The Vulcan helmsman acknowledged the Captain as Strauss followed Akinola into his office.

Akinola filled a heavy mug with coffee from the wall servitor. "Coffee, Commander?"

Strauss settled into one of the comfortable chairs opposite Akinola's desk. "No, thank you, I had two cups of Raktajino with breakfast. Any more caffeine and you'll have to peel me off the ceiling!"

Akinola took his seat behind the antique oak desk. "I don't know how you drink that Klingon sludge. I tried some once - tasted like rancid mud."

She smiled. "It's an acquired taste."

"I'll take your word for it. What have you got for me, XO?"

She handed a PADD across the desk to him. "The new promotion list just came in. I thought you'd like to see it. Also," she hesitated, "we should begin to consider how the end of the stop-loss order is going to affect us."

Akinola scrolled down the promotion list. "I see that Delta Simms made Lt. Commander. Good! She's certainly due." He continued to scroll. "And Bralus finally made jay-gee."

Inga smiled. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled!"

Akinola returned the smile. "No doubt." Bralus was a good helmsman but suffered from poor self-esteem. Maybe this would buck him up a notch. He continued down the list to the end. He let out a slight sigh.

"Solly didn't make Master Chief," he observed. The disappointment was evident in his voice. Akinola had gone to bat for his old friend, apparently for naught. He suspected their recent escapade on Verex III may have torpedoed Solly's chance for promotion.

Inga nodded sympathetically. "No sir. I also couldn't help notice that Ni . . . Lt. Bane wasn't promoted either."

Akinola tossed the PADD on his desk. "No, but in all honesty, he wasn't on the short list, Inga."

"You don't think the business with his brother had anything to do with it?"

Akinola shrugged. "It certainly didn't help, but he's only been a full lieutenant for four years. He's got time yet." He noticed the look on Inga's face. "It's not your fault he didn't get promoted, Inga!" Although I probably did cost Solly that stripe, he didn't say aloud.

Strauss smiled weakly. "Yes sir, if you say so. Any guess to how many we'll lose from the crew?"

Akinola laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "Good question. Dr. Castille told me that Corpsman Rice wants to go to medical school, so that's one."

"I believe Lt. Fralk may resign. He's told me that he misses his four wives and wants to return home." Strauss referred to their Denobulan helmsman who piloted the cutter on gamma shift."

Akinola nodded. He wasn't surprised by that. He gave Inga an appraising look. "Commander, there's a fair chance that we may lose Commander T'Ser."

Inga blinked in surprise. "I . . . didn't know! Has she told you why?"

Akinola held up his hand. "I'm not saying it's definite, Inga. But you know she's had a difficult time over the past two years. There are a lot of painful memories for her on this ship. I've admired how she's kept her chin up through it all, but I think it's gotten to the point where she needs a change."

"I hope you're wrong, sir," said Inga, a note of sadness in her voice.

"Me too. In the mean-time, we do need a second officer, at least until T'Ser rejoins us. I want to give Delta Simms a shot at it - any objections?"

Inga shook her head. "None. But what about Commander Gralt? He's way more senior."

Akinola chuckled. "If I tried to make Gralt second officer, he'd either quit, try to kill me, or both! He's a great engineer but he doesn't have the - how shall I say it? - 'people skills' to handle it."

Strauss smiled in agreement. "No argument there, sir."

"Alright then. Do me a favor and ask Delta to step in so I can break the news to her."

* * *

Stardate 54068.4 (25 January 2377)
SS Backroad
crossing into Federation space from Klingon territory

Carmine Telestro lived his life in the shadows. He wasn't a bad person, per se', but neither did he mind bending the rules when it suited him. His goal was to make enough money to get by, mind his own business, and avoid notice.

Telestro was the owner and Captain of the merchant vessel, Backroad, a small, nondescript ship of Terran registry. Most of his business ventures were legitimate. Sometimes, though, he crossed the line into smuggling. This was one of those times.

He kept glancing at his sensor panel, expecting either a Klingon Bird of Prey or Border Service Cutter to suddenly appear, demanding he stop to be boarded. He was far from normal shipping lanes but he couldn't afford to pass through a regular border check-point. Thus, the Backroad was entering the Molari Badlands. He hoped he could skirt the edge of the Badlands and avoid the ion storms while still taking advantage of the sensor-crippling background radiation.

Telestro was so focused on his instruments that he jumped with fright when a voice spoke from behind him.

"So, Carmine - have we crossed the border yet?"

Telestro turned to stare at a teenage boy, maybe 17 years of age. The boy was slender with shaggy brown hair, a pimple-infested face, dark eyes, and a shirt that read, I'm not picking my nose - I'm scratching my brain! He was looking at Telestro with a bored expression.

Heart hammering, Telestro answered angrily, "Geez, Bug! You damn near gave me a heart attack! Next time, make some noise when you come on the flight deck!"

"Sorry," said Bug, though his voice indicated otherwise. Billy "Bug" Crump was the youngest of Telestro's crew. A war orphan, Bug had learned to survive by stealing and had stowed away on various ships - moving from planet to planet, station to station. Telestro had discovered him stowed away on the Backroad almost a year earlier. He had intended to turn him in to the Feddies, but Bug had proved to be very adept with computers and the ship's glitchy control systems. Telestro decided to allow him to stay on in return for Bug's services.

"Never mind," huffed Telestro. "Make sure everything is squared away below. Tell Shonda and Max to close all the hatches, then all of you need to get strapped in. It's gonna be rough for the next few hours."

"So I guess the answer is yes."

Telestro blinked, confused and frustrated. "What?"

"We've crossed the border," said Bug, languidly.

"Of course we've crossed the frakkin' border. Now, hurry up and do what I told ya!"

Bug blinked slowly. "You don't have to shout."

Telestro very much needed to shout, to scream, to shake this mis-begotten adolescent, but he didn't have the time. "Just . . . go!" he said, tightly. Thankfully, Bug descended the ladder and Telestro turned his attention back to the controls, just as the ship was rocked by the first gravimetric wave.

* * *

Stardate 54068.5 (25 January 2377)
USS Bluefin
en route to the Klingon border, warp 4[/b]

"Me? Second officer?" Delta Simms' head was spinning. She had entered Akinola's office with a bit of trepidition, only to be happily relieved to discover she had been promoted to Lt. Commander. Akinola had handed her the black pip trimmed in gold before dropping the other shoe.

"It's provisional," said Akinola, "until Commander T'Ser returns to duty. That will be at least two months of good experience for you. I'm confident you can handle it!"

"Yes sir, thank you," Simms still sounded doubtful. "What of my duties in engineering?"

Akinola smiled. "Let me handle Commander Gralt. I will need you on the bridge as gamma shift watch officer, but you can do that from the engineering station on the bridge. That should sooth Gralt a little."

"May I ask - why me, sir?"

"You're smart, you're a fine officer, you've been to command school and you work well with people. Plus, that new hardware on your collar means it's time for you to take on more responsibility." He stood to refill his coffee mug. "Delta, this is a good opportunity for you. If you do well, it's possible you might get the job on a more permanent basis."

She frowned. "But what about Commander T'Ser?"

Akinola took a sip of coffee. His face was neutral. "Things change, Commander."

* * *

Stardate 54068.7 (25 January 2377)
IKS Jhar'toq
crossing into Federation space from Klingon territory (cloaked)

Commander Choq drummed his fingers on the worn metal armrest of his command chair. His cloaked B'rel-class Bird-of-Prey rocked slightly as they entered the region known as Dak'go'leth or "Shining Death," what the Federation referred to as the Molari Badlands.

"Status!" He barked.

The helmsman, an aging Klingon with one eye, replied, "All systems functioning. However, our cloak may fail as we encounter ionic disturbances."

"Pah!" Choq spat, "We won't need it when we catch the pa'tok Humans that have the Req'ti." His face broke into a feral grin. "Perhaps they will attempt to resist!"

* * *

 

I got a 5 that says both off those ships are headed straight for the Bluefin! And what's a Req'ti?

 

Oh, goodie, Bluefin's back. And you start it with a big shocker. You can't possibly be serious about getting rid of the most charming Vulcan officer in the fleet? What a loss for Bluefin that would be.

In the meantime another officer is getting their shot at the top, that should prove interesting.

And again with the Klingons. That's not going to end well, I say.

 

I'm curious as to what the Backroad--love that name!--is carrying. And Delta Simms gets her time in the sun. The big question is--is she for Auburn or 'Bama when the big game comes up?

Ol' Joe and the Bluefin will get the job done somehow though...

 

Thanks for the comments, everyone!

Change is definitely in the air. But I can promise you this, T'Ser is not going to disappear from the United Trek universe.

Delta Simms attended the University of Alabama before attending Starfleet Academy. Roll Tide!

And just what is the Backroad carrying? Hmmm! A very good question!

 

I really do feel the change in the tone of this story. Wounds (recent and distant) are catching up to several people. As a paradoxical fortune cookie once said, "The only constant is change."

 

Chapter Three

Stardate 54068.8 (25 January 2377)
USS Bluefin
Patrolling the Klingon border near the Molari Badlands

Dr. Castille sat at the wardroom table with a Reuben sandwich and a glass of milk, perusing a PADD with the latest issue of The New England Journal of Medicine. He was looking forward to some downtime after spending his shift conducting crew physicals and working with Corpsman Sanders on updating their triage protocols.

Castille looked up at the sound of the door sliding open. Delta Simms entered, carrying her dinner on a tray. The Doctor swallowed and felt his pulse quicken. He was attracted to Delta, but had been previously too shy to strike up a conversation with her. Truth be told, he had never been much of a lady’s man – much of his young adulthood had been consumed by the study of medicine. Now, in his early 30’s, he found that he was often lonely as he had cultivated few friends of either sex.

Delta saw Castille and, with a smile, approached him.

“May I sit here, Doctor?”

Delta had a soft lilt to her voice that Castille found captivating. He realized that he was gaping at her and quickly recovered. “Certainly Lieutenant! Please do.” He gestured to the chair across from him.

“Thanks!” she said, easing her tray containing a bowl of soup and a small salad onto the table. For the first time, Castille noticed the new pip on her collar.

“I see congratulations are in order,” he observed.

For a moment, Simms looked puzzled, before realization struck. Her face flushed slightly. “Oh, that.” She offered an embarrassed smile. “My promotion came through today. The Captain has moved me back to the bridge, at least temporarily. I imagine Gralt is having kittens, but . . .” her voice trailed off and she shrugged.

“You don’t seem too happy about it,” observed Castille.

Simms took a packet of crackers and broke them up over her tomato soup, stirring them in absently. She crinkled her nose. “Oh, I’m happy over the promotion. I’m just not sure I’m ready to be second officer.”

Castille smiled. “Even more cause for congratulations! I think you’re an excellent choice.”

Simms face lit up. “Really?”

“Absolutely! You have a great rapport with the crew and you’re obviously a very capable officer. I’ve no doubt that the Captain made the right decision.”

She smiled at that. Castille was captivated by her. Her wide-set hazel eyes, beautiful smile and wavy red hair were enchanting.

“Thanks for saying so, Doc. I hope you’re right!”

“I know I’m right – and please, call me O.C.”

She tilted her head slightly, as if appraising him. “Alright – O.C. And please call me Delta.”

Castille smiled in return, his fatigue and medical journal forgotten.

* * *

Commander Strauss stifled a yawn as she watched the star field streak by from the command chair. She had worked through much of her “down time” and was paying the price now as conn officer for beta shift. You should have spent more time sleeping and less time working on crew schedules, she thought morosely.

Inga stood and stretched her back and rolled her neck. She considered getting coffee, but she had overdone the caffeine earlier and didn’t want to make that mistake again.

“You okay, Commander?”

Inga stopped stretching, suddenly very self-conscious. Senior Chief Solly Brin was looking at her, an amused expression on his face as he sat at the tactical station. She dropped her arms and gave him what she hoped was a dignified expression.

“Just getting the blood circulating, Senior Chief. Mind your station.”

Solly grinned. “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

“Commander?” Ensign Vashtee spoke up from Ops. “We’re receiving an in-coming message from the USS Hiryu.”

Happy for the interruption, Strauss replied, “On screen, Ensign.”

The main viewscreen shifted from the passing starfield to the interior of a Nova-class science vessel. A Vulcan male with Captain’s pips sat in the center seat. Strauss automatically stood straighter.

“Bluefin, this is Captain Slenar, in command of the USS Hiryu.”

Strauss nodded her head in greeting. “I’m Commander Inga Strauss, Executive Officer. How may we be of assistance Captain?”

Slenar elevated an eyebrow slightly. “It is I who hope to assist you, Commander. We are conducting a scanning survey of the Molari Badlands with our upgraded sensors. We have picked up a transient contact that appears to have come from Klingon space. I am sending you the coordinates of the contact.”

Strauss nodded. “Thank you, sir. We will check it out.”

Slenar inclined his head. “A logical course of action. Hiryu out.”

“Chatty fellow, that,” murmured Vashtee.

Strauss resumed her seat. “Do you have the coordinates, helm?”

Lt. Fralk scanned his panel. “Yes ma’am. Bearing 122 degrees mark 17. Speed of contact is point two-five cee.”

“Tryin’ to sneak past us,” observed Solly.

“And they probably would have, if the Hiryu didn’t have those fancy sensors,” said Strauss. “Mr. Fralk, if you’d be so kind, lay in an intercept course, warp eight until we reach the Badlands.”

“Aye, ma’am,” replied the Denobulan. The cutters warp engines emitted a low-pitched whine that increased in intensity, then faded to a muted background hum. “ETA to badlands, twenty two minutes.”

“Maya, are you able to get any reading on the contact?” asked Strauss.

Ensign Vashtee adjusted her sensors and shook her head apologetically. “No ma’am, not at this range. We’ll have to take Captain Slenar’s word for it.”

Strauss smiled. “I think that’s a fairly safe course of action. Vulcans aren’t known for practical jokes.” Her smile faded as she thought of her friend, T’Ser. “Well, most aren’t anyway,” she finished, softly.

* * *

Akinola awoke with a start, his pulse hammering and beads of perspiration on his brow. He sat in the darkness of his cabin for several seconds, trying to calm his racing heart and also to recall the fading fragments of his nightmare.

It had been weeks, maybe months since he’d last suffered any nightmares. Akinola had almost forgotten the terror that gripped him in these night fugues. He closed his eyes again, not to sleep, but to concentrate on the wispy tendrils of the fading dream. He remembered . . .

Joey! Take Melody and get in the escape hatch!

But Mom! I don’t want to leave . . .

No arguments! Get in – hurry! There’s not much time!

The old cargo ship shuddered. Joey’s father and uncle trotted past – they carried pulse rifles – His mother kissed Joey and Melody fiercely – there were tears in her eyes – the hatch closed – an explosion and jolt – so dark, so very dark and so cold . . .

. . . and that was all. The dream faded like mist in sunshine. Akinola rubbed his face and stared out the viewport of his cabin. His memories of being launched off of the Eku when his family’s ship had been attacked by pirates had always been cloudy – mere fragments, really.

He frowned. Why was that? He had been 12 years old, for Pete’s sake! He remembered many things from his life before that – why couldn’t he remember that day clearly? And why did he always feel so cold after these dreams?

A subtle vibration in the deckplates brought him out of his reverie. His well-honed senses told him they had just increased speed.

With a sigh, he moved away from his bed and over to his desk terminal. He tapped the communicator stud.

“Captain to bridge, why have we increased speed?”

Strauss’ face appeared on the terminal. She smiled. “Sorry if we woke you sir. The Hiryu reported a transient contact in the Badlands. We’ve altered course and speed to check it out.” She looked at Akinola’s face over the viewscreen and her smile faded. “Why not go back to sleep, sir? It’s likely just a smuggler trying to sneak past us. We’ll call if anything interesting turns up.”

Akinola considered this briefly, then shook his head. “I’m afraid sleep is over for me. But I’ll stay out of your way, Commander. I’ll be in the wardroom if you need me.”

Strauss smirked, “Enjoy your ice cream, Captain.”

Akinola snorted. “I didn’t know I’d become so damned predictable - Akinola, out.” He turned off the terminal and stepped into the head for a quick sonic shower.

* * *

Stardate 54069.0 (26 January 2377)
SS Backroad
transiting the Molari Badlands

So far, the trip through the Badlands had been rough but manageable. Carmine rubbed his eyes. He was tired, bone-tired, but he needed to keep all of his attention on guiding the Backroad safely through the Badlands and to their rendezvous with their client in the Klaamet system.

The smell of coffee and the soft sound of shoes on the metal ladder caused him to smile. Sure enough, Shonda, his first mate appeared on the flight deck and took a seat in the right-hand chair. She handed a mug of coffee to Telestro, who accepted it gratefully. She leaned back and took a sip of her own coffee.

“How are things below?” asked Carmine.

The dusky-skinned Deltan smiled. “Bug is sound asleep. Max is – well, being Max.”

Carmine shook his head, incredulous. “That kid can sleep through anything!”

“He sleeps the sleep of the innocent,” she said in her melodic voice.

“HA! Innocent my ass!” Telestro brayed. “That kid has probably been involved in more trouble than you and me put together!”

“He’s also got that navigational computer working properly – without which, may I remind you, we wouldn’t have dared coming through the Badlands. Not to mention getting Max working again.”

“If you can call it working,” groused Carmine. “Max” was their loader robot, his actual designation being MX 114. Max had come with the ship when Carmine bought it five years earlier. At the time, Max had simply taken up cargo space in the hold, unmoving, unresponsive and seemingly ready for recycling. Bug was able to get the old MX series ‘bot rewired, re-motored and rebooted. Max might be old and battered, but Bug’s efforts had renewed the old safety-yellow automaton, making Max actually better than new.

Shonda smiled and shook her head. “You know very well that Max more than pulls his own weight.” She turned her head to look at the control displays. “So, how much longer do we have to crawl through this soup?”

Telestro grimaced. “To be honest, I’m not sure. Two, maybe three days at this speed.”

“Couldn’t we go ahead and get clear? Surely if any Klingons followed . . .”

Carmine shook his head. “Too risky. If we clear the Badlands too soon, a Border Cutter might pick us up.”

“But Carmine, even if they did, we don’t have anything on board that would rouse their suspicions. I mean, it’s not like the Req'ti is Corellan Acid or Brain Blast. I doubt many Border Dogs would even know what it is!”

Carmine frowned. “With our luck, we’d find the one Border Dog that did!”

* * *

 

cool. Don't forget to re-post after changeover!

 

Oh, I think things are going to get a great deal more complex when our turtle-headed friends arrive! Man, there's nothing I like better than settling into a Bluefin story with a glass of wine and a crackling fire. Of course, tonight I'm sans wine and fire, but damn it, I'm still enjoying the hell out of this story. You know you're doing a terrific job writing when the simple character moments between your crewmembers are completely engaging and absorbing. Damn fine stuff.

 

Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"

Keep it coming, LoneRedshirt

 

Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"

I agree, even the 'mundane' stuff is interesting. Of course, I'm looking forward to the s**t hitting the fan, too.

 

Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"

I actually like the more routine stuff the most here. Castille and Delta sound like an interesting combination, Akinola has apparently never quite dealt with some serious childhood trauma, and then there is the trader carrying a mysterious ... 'something'. Oh yeah and Klingons are involved.

Don't get much more intriguing then this.

 

Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"

I agree. It's like the crew of the Bluefin is a family that is allowing us to catch a glimpse of their lives. There's a warmth and intimacy to the crew that Joseph fosters. That also tells me a lot about the character of Akinola.

And then there's that mysterious something and the Klingons...

 

Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"

I think the "mysterious something" (Wow, we make it sound so ominous!) is actually a sexual aid used in certain ceremonial mating rituals and the Klingons want it back because they consider it a private matter. But I might be wrong about that.

 

Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"

Chapter Four

Stardate 54069.1 (26 January 2377)
IKS Jhar'toq
transiting the Molari Badlands

The cloaked Klingon Bird of Prey maintained a discreet distance behind the Backroad as both ships moved through the Molari Badlands. Fortune had favored Commander Choq and the crew of the Jhar'toq as their cloaking device continued to function in spite of the constant ion bombardment and intense radiation.

Their luck was about to change, however.

Lt. Largon, Choq's first officer, looked up from his sensor station. "Commander! I'm picking up an incoming vessel moving at high warp speed, approaching our quarry!"

Choq growled in obvious frustration. "Identify that contact!" he barked.

Largon, studied the sensors for several moments, running the returns through the ship's database. He looked up, a concerned expression on his face. "It's an Albacore-class border cutter. They've dropped to sub-light and are on an intercept course with the freighter."

Choq's eyes narrowed, but he kept his temper in check. While aggressive, he was also a realist. Though he was loathe to admit it, their ship was no match for the cutter. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to get into a fire-fight with the Federation Border Service. His superiors would be most displeased with him. Not to mention, his current mission was unauthorized.

"Have they scanned in our direction?"

Largon shook his head. "Negative. It would seem we have not been detected."

"Good," grunted Choq. "Maintain course and speed, but be prepared to stop. Chances are, the cutter will intercept and board it our quarry, inspect it, and send it on its way. It's unlikely they will find the Req'ti, and even if they do, I doubt they will consider it as more than a curiosity. The Federation is much more lenient with smugglers than are we."

* * *

Stardate 54069.1 (26 January 2377)
USS Bluefin
Entering the Molari Badlands

"Bring us out of warp, Mr. Fralk. Continue pursuit at three quarter impulse. Shields up."

"Aye, aye," replied the Denobulan helmsman.

"Commander? I have a positive lock and ID on the transient," reported Ensign Vashtee.

"Let's have it, Ensign."

"Contact is the SS Backroad, an Antonov TJ-77 cargo ship of Terran registry ."

"Huh!" exclaimed Chief Brin, "An old 'thunder jug!' Haven't run into one of those in a few years."

Inga smiled at the nickname for the small freighter. "As you were saying, Ensign?"

"The ship's owner and operator is listed as one Carmine Telestro of Toronto, North American Union. There are no outstanding warrants on the ship or crew, however . . ." Vashtee paused, "their safety validation certificate has expired."

Strauss placed her hands on her hips. "Reason enough to stop and board that ship, wouldn't you agree, Senior Chief?"

A look of anticipation formed on the Orion's face. "Oh, yes ma'am! Absolutely!"

"Good. You and Fralk get your replacements up here and get ready to lead the boarding party. Maya, open hailing frequencies."

* * *

Captain Akinola made his way to the bridge and his ready room, carrying a bowl of cherry-vanilla ice cream. He had intended to eat in the wardroom, but he had found Doctor Castille and Commander Simms carrying on a lively conversation and had decided not to interrupt. He was pleased to see the two hitting it off. Simms had become something of a workaholic after her brief relationship with Dale McBride had ended a few years ago. And Castille had developed a reputation as a recluse since joining the crew last year. Maybe both of them would come out of their respective shells, he hoped.

As he stepped onto the bridge, he noticed the buzz of activity. His first instinct was to take charge, but he reminded himself that Strauss was in the center seat, so he merely inquired of the situation.

"Anything going on, XO?"

She turned toward him. "That contact turned out to be the freighter, Backroad. We're going to check them out." Her eyebrow was lifted, as if she expected him to take over.

"Very well. Carry on, Commander. I'll be in my ready room finishing my ice cream and catching up on some wood carving."

Inga's expression softened and she smiled. "Yes sir. I'll keep you posted."

* * *

Stardate 54069.2 (26 January 2377)
SS Backroad
transiting the Molari Badlands

The proximity alarm caused Carmine to jump in his seat. Shonda immediately checked the sensor panel, then stared at Telestro with a look of concern.

"Contact dead astern! It's closing fast!"

"Can you I.D. it?"

Before she could answer, the subspace receiver came to life and a female voice came over the speaker.

Backroad, this is the USS Bluefin, please respond.

Telestro cursed. "A Border Service cutter! How the hell did they find us?"

"Does it matter?" asked Shonda. "What do we do?"

"Get below and wake up the kid. Make sure any of the questionable cargo is hidden. I'll try to stall them before they board us."

Backroad, this is the Bluefin. Heave to, and prepare to be boarded. Please respond! The voice was becoming more insistent.
Carmine fumbled for the subspace transmitter controls. "Ah, Bluefin, say again please - you're breaking up. . ."

* * *

Stardate 54069.2 (26 January 2377)
USS Bluefin
transiting the Molari Badlands

Inga was beginning to get perturbed. She knew full well that the captain of the Backroad was stalling for time. She turned toward Ensign Mahaley, who had relieved Chief Brin at tactical.

"Mr. Mahaley, stand by with forward tractor beams. It seems we may have to stop that ship the hard way." Inga turned toward Ensign Vashtee at Ops. "Maya, is it still safe to use the transporter?"

Vashtee had been carefully monitoring the ion levels and was ready with her answer. "Yes ma'am. We're still well within safety limits."

"Good. Notify the boarding party to stand by in transporter room one." Strauss thought for a moment, then added, "Boost the gain on the transmitter and hail them again."

Vashtee's slender hands moved quickly over the comm board. "Gain increased by 10% - channel open."

Strauss mouth twisted into a mischievous grin. "Backroad, this is the Bluefin - do you read me now?"

* * *

Stardate 54069.2 (26 January 2377)
SS Backroad
transiting the Molari Badlands

"GEEZ!" howled Telestro as the transmission from the Bluefin thundered through the speakers, causing his ears to ring. He quickly adjusted the volume to protect his ears. "You don't have to shout, lady! I read you, I read you, already!"

Very well Backroad. Carmine thought he detected a smug tone in that voice. Throttle back your engines, heave to, and prepare to be boarded. If you do not comply, we will be forced to use our tractor beams to stop you.

"Uh, is there a problem, Bluefin? We were just taking a short cut to the Klaamet system." Carmine used his best "innocent" tone.

It seems that your safety certificate has expired. We need to make a quick inspection to make sure your systems are operating properly. And I'm afraid we'll have to issue a citation for operating your ship with an expired certificate.

Carmine slapped his forehead in frustration. He'd been meaning to get the ship inspected, but had kept putting it off. Shonda would never let him hear the end of this!

"Um, okay Bluefin. I'm throttling back now - but can we make this quick? I've got a schedule to keep?"

I apologize for the delay. We'll make this as quick as possible. Bluefin out.

Carmine didn't think she sounded sorry at all.

* * *

 

Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"

Ah, the humdrum life of a Border Service crew. Expired safety certificate indeed!