Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
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Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Looks like things are about to get ratcheted up a few notches now that the Admiral's taking a personal interest in this...
Looks like things are about to get ratcheted up a few notches now that the Admiral's taking a personal interest in this...
Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Yeah, taking Bateson along for the ride adds another dimension to this whole thing. And I did forget about the mole on Bluefin or should I say ... the other mole. It didn't turn out to well with the last one.
Fascinating developments here and it promises to get even better. Almost hard to believe.
Yeah, taking Bateson along for the ride adds another dimension to this whole thing. And I did forget about the mole on Bluefin or should I say ... the other mole. It didn't turn out to well with the last one.
Fascinating developments here and it promises to get even better. Almost hard to believe.
Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Chapter Twenty
Stardate 54075.2 (1 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
En route to the Sulistus system, warp 8
Captain's Log - Stardate 54075.2. The Bluefin is en route to Sulistus, a remote, sparsely populated system that was once part of the Klingon Empire prior to the Four-Years War of the last century. According to Captain Lhar'Shon's "sources," Garth has set up a hiding place on one of the moons of the fourth planet.
Such information would barely be useful, except her "sources" have managed to track Garth's right-hand man, former Marine Major Wayne Tilos, to this moon and we now have his ship's description and warp signature. With a little luck, we may be able to find Garth. I hope so - my faith in our intelligence services is not very strong.
And, true to his word, Admiral Bateson has joined us on this mission. He's assured me that he simply wants to help us out when we confront Garth. After all, as a former student the Admiral does know the man. Other than that, he plans to be, in his words,"as quiet as a church mouse." That would be a large, opinionated and high-ranking church mouse, of course.
Captain Akinola saved his log and exited his ready room for the bridge. Lt. Commander Simms was in the center seat, looking somewhat nervous. Small wonder, with Admiral Bateson prowling the bridge like a caged animal. Currently, the Admiral was intently studying the Bluefin's dedication plaque by the turbo lift. He straightened when he saw Akinola and smiled.
"Did you know my former C.O. from the Merlin was on the design team for this ship?" asked Bateson. Akinola walked over and looked at the plaque. Bateson pointed to one name - Silas Parker.
"I know every name on that plaque but I never knew you served under Parker," remarked Akinola.
"Yes, the Merlin was my first assignment right out of the academy." Bateson pointed to another name on the plaque. "And Sharlon B. Erdon was our XO. As I recall, she hated the name 'Sharlon' for some reason. Captain Parker always called her 'Brooks.'"
"I've always wished I could thank the Albacore-class design team," said Akinola. "Best designed and toughest ships in the Border Service!"
"Better than the new Sequoias?" asked Bateson with a mischievous grin.
Akinola snorted. "Don't get me started, Admiral. The Sequoias were designed by bean-counters, not engineers. Taking an anemic Nova-class space-frame and slapping an upgraded warp drive and a few more weapons on it doesn't make it a cutter!"
"Don't let Admiral Bondurant hear you say that, Joseph. This is her pet project. I'm hearing rumors that she wants to retire the Albacores within five years and replace them with the Sequoias." Bateson referred to Admiral Bridgette Bondurant, the current Commander, Border Services.
"When that happens, I'll turn in my pips and retire myself," said Akinola, gruffly.
"Now, don't start filing your retirement papers just yet! With President Satie's cost-cutting measures in effect, I imagine the Bluefin will be in service for many years to come. And Admiral Bondurant won't be receiving near the number of Sequoias that she wants."
"I hope you're right, sir. Have you had breakfast yet?"
Bateson shook his head. "Just a cup of coffee in my cabin."
Akinola smiled. "Come on then. I'll have Cookie fix you a real breakfast!"
* * *
1 February 2377
Seattle, Earth
The recent snow had given way to cold rain this week. T'Ser gamely jogged through the park, occasionally wiping droplets of cold water from her face. After all the food she had eaten during her visit with the McBrides, she was determined to resume her running regimen. Even with her high metabolism, she had been dismayed to discover she had gained two pounds!
After 10 kilometers, she headed back toward the marina and her parents' houseboat. She was actually looking forward to some of her mother's Plomeek soup, just to have something warm in her stomach. Normally, she didn't care much for the bland broth (in truth, she didn't like much of any Vulcan cuisine) but her mother's was actually pretty good.
She slowed as she entered the parking area of the marina, stopping by her father's blue Honda Lift skimmer to stretch out her muscles. Only a few other house boat tenants were out just now. A middle-aged man in jogging shorts, rain jacket and floppy hat trotted by led by a red dachshund whose short legs were a blur of motion. He nodded in greeting as he and the wiener dog moved by. An elderly woman hurried along one of the docks, her umbrella up in a futile gesture to ward off the incessant moisture.
T'Ser moved carefully along the rain-slick dock, not fully trusting the anti-skid surface. She had once watched a young man trot along the dock in similar weather, stumble and slip right off into the cold water. He had come up sputtering, then quickly climbed back onto the dock, trying to act casual. As soon as he had passed from sight, T'Ser and her mother had erupted in a gale of laughter.
The house boat was warm and dry. Her parents were at work, so she decided to get a shower then warm up some of the Plomeek soup for breakfast. As she passed the computer terminal, she noticed the message light blinking. She hesitated, then said, "Computer - are there any saved messages for me?"
"Affirmative. You have one new message. Do you wish to review it now?"
"First, identify source of message."
"You have a personal message from Commander Inga Strauss, received at 0817 hours, 1 February 2377. Do you wish to play, save or delete the message?"
T'Ser considered for a moment, deciding the shower could wait. She pulled out the desk chair and sat down. "Play message."
The screen, which had shown an image of T'Ser's parents at Yellowstone Park, shifted to a very familiar face as the image of Inga Strauss appeared.
"Hey, T'Ser! I'm sorry I missed you. We've had an eventful couple of weeks . . ."
T'Ser listened with rapt fascination as Inga shared most of the events of the past days. A sense of sadness came over her as she learned of Chief Brundy's death, but also relief to learn that Strauss and Vashtee were recovering from their injuries. Now, the Bluefin was off on another mission.
"I can't go into details, of course, since this isn't a secure channel. But I can say the mission looks to be 'interesting!'" Strauss hesitated a moment before proceeding. "Look, T'Ser . . . I know you've been through a lot over the past year and that you're trying to decide your next step. I would hate to see you leave the Bluefin - I'm sure that goes for the rest of the crew as well. But, well, if that's your decision, I just wanted you to know that won't affect our friendship." Inga glanced at something off-screen for a moment and grimaced. "I'm going to be late for my shift if I don't hurry. Take care of yourself, T'Ser! Nigel says 'Hello!' I'll talk to you soon - Strauss, out."
The screen returned to the view of T'Ser's parents, looking like typical tourists, standing in front of one of the geysers at Yellowstone. She sighed and rubbed her neck. It seemed that every time she came close to making a firm decision about her future, she was reminded of how dear the past and present were to her.
* * *
Stardate 54077.4 (3 February 2377)
Thurilin's Moon - Sulistus Prime
Xerok, the Vulcan geneticist, approached Garth with a Padd in hand. He inclined his head in greeting.
"I trust you're making progress, Dr. Xerok?" asked Garth, pleasantly.
The silver-haired scientist nodded. "Indeed, the replicants have nearly reached maturity. At their current rate of growth, we should be able to begin neural mapping in the next 14 point 42 hours. That, of course, will be the most critical phase. If all goes well, we should produce twenty four viable replicants."
Garth smiled. "Excellent, Doctor! Please convey my appreciation to your team."
"Certainly," Xerok hesitated for a moment.
"What is it, Xerok?"
"There are . . . ethical issues with which I'm still struggling."
Garth fixed the Vulcan with an unreadable gaze. "I thought I had addressed those concerns for you, Doctor. Perhaps you have forgotten one of Surak's principles - 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.'"
Xerok shook his head. "Not at all, Commodore. That principle is precisely the cause of my concern - are we not dooming many Klingons to suffering and death if we implement your strategem?"
"My friend, you are standing too close to the problem. You must step back to see the big picture - the grand scheme that will ultimately bring lasting peace and stability to billions on both sides of the border. If sacrifices are made along the way, well . . ." Garth spread his arms expansively, "those sacrifices will be for the greater good!"
The Vulcan's dark eyes stayed fixed on Garth, but his expression betrayed no emotion. "If you will excuse me, Commodore Garth, I must return to the chambers." Xerok turned and moved back toward the laboratory.
Garth's smile faded. He heard soft footfalls approaching from the hallway.
"What is it, Wayne?" asked Garth.
The former marine's face was grim. "Another vessel has entered the system. It is the cutter you encountered in the badlands - the Bluefin."
The Izarian's face remained impassive, but his steel grey eyes narrowed. "You were followed."
"Impossible! Not with the route I took, nor the countermeasures I employed!"
"Nonetheless, they are here, Wayne. It would seem that Starfleet Intelligence has improved their spy network considerably." Garth put a hand on Major Tilos' shoulder. "Activate the energy dampening field. We can't be interrupted yet. Xerok and his team need about 15 more hours to finish." His eyes lost their focus as his mind processed and rejected multiple scenarios.
"Wayne, I may need you to provide a diversion for us. It is imperative that we are not discovered by the Border Service or SFI or whoever the devil is on that ship. If at all possible, avoid any direct conflict with them. I don't want them hurt - they're our people, but . . ." Garth placed his other hand on Wayne's opposite shoulder and peered into his eyes. "Our mission takes absolute priority over all other considerations - understood?"
Major Tilos returned Garth's stare with equal intensity. "Understood, sir!"
* * *
Chapter Twenty
Stardate 54075.2 (1 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
En route to the Sulistus system, warp 8
Captain's Log - Stardate 54075.2. The Bluefin is en route to Sulistus, a remote, sparsely populated system that was once part of the Klingon Empire prior to the Four-Years War of the last century. According to Captain Lhar'Shon's "sources," Garth has set up a hiding place on one of the moons of the fourth planet.
Such information would barely be useful, except her "sources" have managed to track Garth's right-hand man, former Marine Major Wayne Tilos, to this moon and we now have his ship's description and warp signature. With a little luck, we may be able to find Garth. I hope so - my faith in our intelligence services is not very strong.
And, true to his word, Admiral Bateson has joined us on this mission. He's assured me that he simply wants to help us out when we confront Garth. After all, as a former student the Admiral does know the man. Other than that, he plans to be, in his words,"as quiet as a church mouse." That would be a large, opinionated and high-ranking church mouse, of course.
Captain Akinola saved his log and exited his ready room for the bridge. Lt. Commander Simms was in the center seat, looking somewhat nervous. Small wonder, with Admiral Bateson prowling the bridge like a caged animal. Currently, the Admiral was intently studying the Bluefin's dedication plaque by the turbo lift. He straightened when he saw Akinola and smiled.
"Did you know my former C.O. from the Merlin was on the design team for this ship?" asked Bateson. Akinola walked over and looked at the plaque. Bateson pointed to one name - Silas Parker.
"I know every name on that plaque but I never knew you served under Parker," remarked Akinola.
"Yes, the Merlin was my first assignment right out of the academy." Bateson pointed to another name on the plaque. "And Sharlon B. Erdon was our XO. As I recall, she hated the name 'Sharlon' for some reason. Captain Parker always called her 'Brooks.'"
"I've always wished I could thank the Albacore-class design team," said Akinola. "Best designed and toughest ships in the Border Service!"
"Better than the new Sequoias?" asked Bateson with a mischievous grin.
Akinola snorted. "Don't get me started, Admiral. The Sequoias were designed by bean-counters, not engineers. Taking an anemic Nova-class space-frame and slapping an upgraded warp drive and a few more weapons on it doesn't make it a cutter!"
"Don't let Admiral Bondurant hear you say that, Joseph. This is her pet project. I'm hearing rumors that she wants to retire the Albacores within five years and replace them with the Sequoias." Bateson referred to Admiral Bridgette Bondurant, the current Commander, Border Services.
"When that happens, I'll turn in my pips and retire myself," said Akinola, gruffly.
"Now, don't start filing your retirement papers just yet! With President Satie's cost-cutting measures in effect, I imagine the Bluefin will be in service for many years to come. And Admiral Bondurant won't be receiving near the number of Sequoias that she wants."
"I hope you're right, sir. Have you had breakfast yet?"
Bateson shook his head. "Just a cup of coffee in my cabin."
Akinola smiled. "Come on then. I'll have Cookie fix you a real breakfast!"
* * *
1 February 2377
Seattle, Earth
The recent snow had given way to cold rain this week. T'Ser gamely jogged through the park, occasionally wiping droplets of cold water from her face. After all the food she had eaten during her visit with the McBrides, she was determined to resume her running regimen. Even with her high metabolism, she had been dismayed to discover she had gained two pounds!
After 10 kilometers, she headed back toward the marina and her parents' houseboat. She was actually looking forward to some of her mother's Plomeek soup, just to have something warm in her stomach. Normally, she didn't care much for the bland broth (in truth, she didn't like much of any Vulcan cuisine) but her mother's was actually pretty good.
She slowed as she entered the parking area of the marina, stopping by her father's blue Honda Lift skimmer to stretch out her muscles. Only a few other house boat tenants were out just now. A middle-aged man in jogging shorts, rain jacket and floppy hat trotted by led by a red dachshund whose short legs were a blur of motion. He nodded in greeting as he and the wiener dog moved by. An elderly woman hurried along one of the docks, her umbrella up in a futile gesture to ward off the incessant moisture.
T'Ser moved carefully along the rain-slick dock, not fully trusting the anti-skid surface. She had once watched a young man trot along the dock in similar weather, stumble and slip right off into the cold water. He had come up sputtering, then quickly climbed back onto the dock, trying to act casual. As soon as he had passed from sight, T'Ser and her mother had erupted in a gale of laughter.
The house boat was warm and dry. Her parents were at work, so she decided to get a shower then warm up some of the Plomeek soup for breakfast. As she passed the computer terminal, she noticed the message light blinking. She hesitated, then said, "Computer - are there any saved messages for me?"
"Affirmative. You have one new message. Do you wish to review it now?"
"First, identify source of message."
"You have a personal message from Commander Inga Strauss, received at 0817 hours, 1 February 2377. Do you wish to play, save or delete the message?"
T'Ser considered for a moment, deciding the shower could wait. She pulled out the desk chair and sat down. "Play message."
The screen, which had shown an image of T'Ser's parents at Yellowstone Park, shifted to a very familiar face as the image of Inga Strauss appeared.
"Hey, T'Ser! I'm sorry I missed you. We've had an eventful couple of weeks . . ."
T'Ser listened with rapt fascination as Inga shared most of the events of the past days. A sense of sadness came over her as she learned of Chief Brundy's death, but also relief to learn that Strauss and Vashtee were recovering from their injuries. Now, the Bluefin was off on another mission.
"I can't go into details, of course, since this isn't a secure channel. But I can say the mission looks to be 'interesting!'" Strauss hesitated a moment before proceeding. "Look, T'Ser . . . I know you've been through a lot over the past year and that you're trying to decide your next step. I would hate to see you leave the Bluefin - I'm sure that goes for the rest of the crew as well. But, well, if that's your decision, I just wanted you to know that won't affect our friendship." Inga glanced at something off-screen for a moment and grimaced. "I'm going to be late for my shift if I don't hurry. Take care of yourself, T'Ser! Nigel says 'Hello!' I'll talk to you soon - Strauss, out."
The screen returned to the view of T'Ser's parents, looking like typical tourists, standing in front of one of the geysers at Yellowstone. She sighed and rubbed her neck. It seemed that every time she came close to making a firm decision about her future, she was reminded of how dear the past and present were to her.
* * *
Stardate 54077.4 (3 February 2377)
Thurilin's Moon - Sulistus Prime
Xerok, the Vulcan geneticist, approached Garth with a Padd in hand. He inclined his head in greeting.
"I trust you're making progress, Dr. Xerok?" asked Garth, pleasantly.
The silver-haired scientist nodded. "Indeed, the replicants have nearly reached maturity. At their current rate of growth, we should be able to begin neural mapping in the next 14 point 42 hours. That, of course, will be the most critical phase. If all goes well, we should produce twenty four viable replicants."
Garth smiled. "Excellent, Doctor! Please convey my appreciation to your team."
"Certainly," Xerok hesitated for a moment.
"What is it, Xerok?"
"There are . . . ethical issues with which I'm still struggling."
Garth fixed the Vulcan with an unreadable gaze. "I thought I had addressed those concerns for you, Doctor. Perhaps you have forgotten one of Surak's principles - 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.'"
Xerok shook his head. "Not at all, Commodore. That principle is precisely the cause of my concern - are we not dooming many Klingons to suffering and death if we implement your strategem?"
"My friend, you are standing too close to the problem. You must step back to see the big picture - the grand scheme that will ultimately bring lasting peace and stability to billions on both sides of the border. If sacrifices are made along the way, well . . ." Garth spread his arms expansively, "those sacrifices will be for the greater good!"
The Vulcan's dark eyes stayed fixed on Garth, but his expression betrayed no emotion. "If you will excuse me, Commodore Garth, I must return to the chambers." Xerok turned and moved back toward the laboratory.
Garth's smile faded. He heard soft footfalls approaching from the hallway.
"What is it, Wayne?" asked Garth.
The former marine's face was grim. "Another vessel has entered the system. It is the cutter you encountered in the badlands - the Bluefin."
The Izarian's face remained impassive, but his steel grey eyes narrowed. "You were followed."
"Impossible! Not with the route I took, nor the countermeasures I employed!"
"Nonetheless, they are here, Wayne. It would seem that Starfleet Intelligence has improved their spy network considerably." Garth put a hand on Major Tilos' shoulder. "Activate the energy dampening field. We can't be interrupted yet. Xerok and his team need about 15 more hours to finish." His eyes lost their focus as his mind processed and rejected multiple scenarios.
"Wayne, I may need you to provide a diversion for us. It is imperative that we are not discovered by the Border Service or SFI or whoever the devil is on that ship. If at all possible, avoid any direct conflict with them. I don't want them hurt - they're our people, but . . ." Garth placed his other hand on Wayne's opposite shoulder and peered into his eyes. "Our mission takes absolute priority over all other considerations - understood?"
Major Tilos returned Garth's stare with equal intensity. "Understood, sir!"
* * *
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Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Almost feel sorry for Garth, a kick in the backside really hurts.
Almost feel sorry for Garth, a kick in the backside really hurts.
Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Good character work here and a nice shout out to Sonny Parker and Brooks!
You can tell that Bateson is not happy about having to go up against his old instructor--a man he probably idolized who is also a living connection to his prior life. But, he's also a man who understands that a man has to be willing to 'shoot his own dog'.
Also, a good view of T'Ser here as she's come to a crossroads of her own.
Good character work here and a nice shout out to Sonny Parker and Brooks!
You can tell that Bateson is not happy about having to go up against his old instructor--a man he probably idolized who is also a living connection to his prior life. But, he's also a man who understands that a man has to be willing to 'shoot his own dog'.
Also, a good view of T'Ser here as she's come to a crossroads of her own.
Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Chapter Twenty one
Stardate 54077.4 (3 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
Entering the Sulistus system
"Ahead one-quarter impulse, Mr. Bralus. Mr. Bane - what are you picking up?" queried the Captain.
Bane perused sensor data from his station. "A lot of debris floating around in-system, Captain. Sizable amounts of tritanium, endurium and other inorganic materials. Most likely the wreckage of multiple space vessels."
"Don't they still teach history at the academy?" asked Admiral Bateson, not unkindly.
"Sir?" replied Bane, puzzled.
"The Battle of Silustus, Lieutenant" interjected Akinola. "One of the last battles of the Four Years War with the Klingons. Federation forces destroyed over 100 enemy vessels in less than two days. The Battle of Axanar was the turning point in the war. Silustus was the stake in their heart."
"Not bad for an old mustang," observed Bateson with a wink.
"I can read," said Akinola dryly, "contrary to what some of you ring-knockers think."
Bateson chuckled, then sobered as the ravaged form of Silustus Prime appeared on the screen. His voice was more subdued as he spoke again. "This was the last stand for the Klingon Empire, and the first time we took the war to their territory. Silustus Prime was once a class-M planet with over 400 million inhabitants - citizens of the Empire. Of course, there's no Klingonese word for 'civilian.' Or for 'surrender' for that matter."
Bateson stroked his beard thoughtfully as the planet grew on the screen. Silustus Prime was dark and foreboding. a gray, craggy moon hung in orbit. There were no clouds surrounding the planet, no signs of water or of any kind of life. It was a dead world.
Bateson's eyes had a distant look as he resumed speaking. "Fleet Captain Garth led a task force including the Yorktown, Exeter, Constellation and Enterprise. My brother, Trevor, was navigator on the Enterprise during the battle, serving under Captain Robert April. I was still in high school, but Trevor told me about the battle later." He paused, emitting a sigh.
"It was like shooting fish in a barrel. The Klingons' front-line ships had been nearly wiped out at Axanar. Garth brought overwhelming firepower against a few aging D-4 and D-5 cruisers and a decrepit fleet of ancient scout ships. The outcome was never in doubt."
The bridge was very quiet. Everyone, Akinola included, listened with rapt attention.
"Captain April tried to slow down the slaughter when it was apparent the battle was won. But Garth's reply was, 'Send them all to Hell!' Not one Klingon ship escaped. Finally, when the battle was done, Garth contacted the Klingon Governor, Thurilin, demanding the surrender of Sulistus Prime. Thurilin laughed, congratulated Garth for winning the battle, then he released a bio-genic weapon on his own planet, killing every single Klingon - male, female, young and old."
This time the silence was prolonged, broken only by the sound of the instruments and soft hum of the environmental system
Bateson's jaw worked for a moment. "My brother said Captain April was never the same after that. He used to be a very personable commander, if a bit eccentric. After the battle though, April became reclusive and morose. Garth, of course, made the 'correct' strategic decision in the battle. He showed the Klingons that we could match them in sheer brutalality. Less than a month later, the war ended and the neutral zone was established. Garth was hailed as a hero. April led one more five-year mission before turning the Enterprise over to Captain Pike."
"Admiral," asked Akinola quietly. "Why do you think Garth returned here?"
Bateson shrugged. "I'm no shrink, Joseph. I don't pretend to know what's going on in his head. But my guess is that this place reminds him that Klingons don't surrender, but they can be beaten." The Admiral frowned. "One tidbit that didn't make it into the history books - Garth was a proponent of continuing the war and wiping out the Klingons altogether. His was the lone voice in that camp, but I believe he had sympathizers. He once said, "If your neighbor has a mad dog in his yard, sooner or later it will bite your children."
"And now, Garth wants to kill the dog," said Akinola, flatly.
Bateson merely nodded. "But instead of taking it on directly, he apparently intends to feed it poison."
* * *
Major Tilos guided his small ship away from the moon, using the moon's mass to shield him from the sensors of the cutter. He then activated the ship's cloaking device, obtained from the same foolish Klingon operatives that had helped the crew of the Backroad obtain the Req'ti of K'tinga.
Tilos shook his head at the irony. The stupid lobster heads had helped provide the Commodore with the seed of their own destruction. Part of him wondered how the first war with the Klingons had lasted four years. If everything went according to plan, this war would be over in four months - and without a single Federation casualty!
Focusing on the task at hand, he activated the tactical systems of his strike-craft and began a long, arcing turn that would bring him behind the Bluefin. The Commodore had said he didn't want anyone hurt on the cutter, but then, he hadn't exactly forbade him, had he?
He scrolled through the tactical screen, selecting and arming two micro-torpedoes with quantum warheads. His lips curled back in anticipation as he accelerated to full impulse.
* * *
Dr. Xerok impassively regarded the two dozen cylinders that occupied the large laboratory. His colleagues, seven highly respected scientists from a variety of disciplines, checked read-outs and moved busily among the cylinders.
The Vulcan geneticist noted Dr. Essch' a' Kliss, approaching him. His antennae were moving in a sign of agitation. He angrily shoved a Padd at Xerok.
"Look at this! Did you realize what we're doing by introducing this mutagenic catalyst to the matrix?"
Xerok held the Andorian's gaze. "Certainly, Dr. Kliss. Why are you surprised?"
"These replicants will be walking bio-genic weapons!" he hissed. "I didn't sign on to be a part of a biological weapons project!"
Xerok raised an eyebrow slightly, but through discipline he did not sigh. "You have knowingly been a part of work that is technically against Federation law, using experimental genetic manipulation techniques on cloned beings. Are you being obtuse, Doctor, or are you really that naive?"
"I wanted to engage in work that has been banned by ignorant moralists and politicians! I never wanted to be a part of mass murder!"
Xerok stared at the Andorian coldly. "While I too have struggled with some of the ethical considerations, it is entirely logical to treat a disease with extreme measures. There is a 71.835% probability that the Federation and the Klingon Empire will again be at war within the next 20 years unless something happens to intervene." He paused, taking in the laboratory and the 24 cylinders. "The Klingons are the disease, Doctor. We are providing the cure."
* * *
Chapter Twenty one
Stardate 54077.4 (3 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
Entering the Sulistus system
"Ahead one-quarter impulse, Mr. Bralus. Mr. Bane - what are you picking up?" queried the Captain.
Bane perused sensor data from his station. "A lot of debris floating around in-system, Captain. Sizable amounts of tritanium, endurium and other inorganic materials. Most likely the wreckage of multiple space vessels."
"Don't they still teach history at the academy?" asked Admiral Bateson, not unkindly.
"Sir?" replied Bane, puzzled.
"The Battle of Silustus, Lieutenant" interjected Akinola. "One of the last battles of the Four Years War with the Klingons. Federation forces destroyed over 100 enemy vessels in less than two days. The Battle of Axanar was the turning point in the war. Silustus was the stake in their heart."
"Not bad for an old mustang," observed Bateson with a wink.
"I can read," said Akinola dryly, "contrary to what some of you ring-knockers think."
Bateson chuckled, then sobered as the ravaged form of Silustus Prime appeared on the screen. His voice was more subdued as he spoke again. "This was the last stand for the Klingon Empire, and the first time we took the war to their territory. Silustus Prime was once a class-M planet with over 400 million inhabitants - citizens of the Empire. Of course, there's no Klingonese word for 'civilian.' Or for 'surrender' for that matter."
Bateson stroked his beard thoughtfully as the planet grew on the screen. Silustus Prime was dark and foreboding. a gray, craggy moon hung in orbit. There were no clouds surrounding the planet, no signs of water or of any kind of life. It was a dead world.
Bateson's eyes had a distant look as he resumed speaking. "Fleet Captain Garth led a task force including the Yorktown, Exeter, Constellation and Enterprise. My brother, Trevor, was navigator on the Enterprise during the battle, serving under Captain Robert April. I was still in high school, but Trevor told me about the battle later." He paused, emitting a sigh.
"It was like shooting fish in a barrel. The Klingons' front-line ships had been nearly wiped out at Axanar. Garth brought overwhelming firepower against a few aging D-4 and D-5 cruisers and a decrepit fleet of ancient scout ships. The outcome was never in doubt."
The bridge was very quiet. Everyone, Akinola included, listened with rapt attention.
"Captain April tried to slow down the slaughter when it was apparent the battle was won. But Garth's reply was, 'Send them all to Hell!' Not one Klingon ship escaped. Finally, when the battle was done, Garth contacted the Klingon Governor, Thurilin, demanding the surrender of Sulistus Prime. Thurilin laughed, congratulated Garth for winning the battle, then he released a bio-genic weapon on his own planet, killing every single Klingon - male, female, young and old."
This time the silence was prolonged, broken only by the sound of the instruments and soft hum of the environmental system
Bateson's jaw worked for a moment. "My brother said Captain April was never the same after that. He used to be a very personable commander, if a bit eccentric. After the battle though, April became reclusive and morose. Garth, of course, made the 'correct' strategic decision in the battle. He showed the Klingons that we could match them in sheer brutalality. Less than a month later, the war ended and the neutral zone was established. Garth was hailed as a hero. April led one more five-year mission before turning the Enterprise over to Captain Pike."
"Admiral," asked Akinola quietly. "Why do you think Garth returned here?"
Bateson shrugged. "I'm no shrink, Joseph. I don't pretend to know what's going on in his head. But my guess is that this place reminds him that Klingons don't surrender, but they can be beaten." The Admiral frowned. "One tidbit that didn't make it into the history books - Garth was a proponent of continuing the war and wiping out the Klingons altogether. His was the lone voice in that camp, but I believe he had sympathizers. He once said, "If your neighbor has a mad dog in his yard, sooner or later it will bite your children."
"And now, Garth wants to kill the dog," said Akinola, flatly.
Bateson merely nodded. "But instead of taking it on directly, he apparently intends to feed it poison."
* * *
Major Tilos guided his small ship away from the moon, using the moon's mass to shield him from the sensors of the cutter. He then activated the ship's cloaking device, obtained from the same foolish Klingon operatives that had helped the crew of the Backroad obtain the Req'ti of K'tinga.
Tilos shook his head at the irony. The stupid lobster heads had helped provide the Commodore with the seed of their own destruction. Part of him wondered how the first war with the Klingons had lasted four years. If everything went according to plan, this war would be over in four months - and without a single Federation casualty!
Focusing on the task at hand, he activated the tactical systems of his strike-craft and began a long, arcing turn that would bring him behind the Bluefin. The Commodore had said he didn't want anyone hurt on the cutter, but then, he hadn't exactly forbade him, had he?
He scrolled through the tactical screen, selecting and arming two micro-torpedoes with quantum warheads. His lips curled back in anticipation as he accelerated to full impulse.
* * *
Dr. Xerok impassively regarded the two dozen cylinders that occupied the large laboratory. His colleagues, seven highly respected scientists from a variety of disciplines, checked read-outs and moved busily among the cylinders.
The Vulcan geneticist noted Dr. Essch' a' Kliss, approaching him. His antennae were moving in a sign of agitation. He angrily shoved a Padd at Xerok.
"Look at this! Did you realize what we're doing by introducing this mutagenic catalyst to the matrix?"
Xerok held the Andorian's gaze. "Certainly, Dr. Kliss. Why are you surprised?"
"These replicants will be walking bio-genic weapons!" he hissed. "I didn't sign on to be a part of a biological weapons project!"
Xerok raised an eyebrow slightly, but through discipline he did not sigh. "You have knowingly been a part of work that is technically against Federation law, using experimental genetic manipulation techniques on cloned beings. Are you being obtuse, Doctor, or are you really that naive?"
"I wanted to engage in work that has been banned by ignorant moralists and politicians! I never wanted to be a part of mass murder!"
Xerok stared at the Andorian coldly. "While I too have struggled with some of the ethical considerations, it is entirely logical to treat a disease with extreme measures. There is a 71.835% probability that the Federation and the Klingon Empire will again be at war within the next 20 years unless something happens to intervene." He paused, taking in the laboratory and the 24 cylinders. "The Klingons are the disease, Doctor. We are providing the cure."
* * *
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Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
I knew Vulcans were a little short on feelings but Sweet Jesus that guy is cold! And going back to a much earlier post-I was right.(pats self on back). I didn't guess bio-genic weapons but I knew Garth was using clones to screw the Klingons over.
Nice History lesson too.
I knew Vulcans were a little short on feelings but Sweet Jesus that guy is cold! And going back to a much earlier post-I was right.(pats self on back). I didn't guess bio-genic weapons but I knew Garth was using clones to screw the Klingons over.
Nice History lesson too.
Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
A very nice job with Bateson relating the story of the Battle of Silustus--you could almost hear the weight in his voice. And Garth's scheme now fully unfolds--genocide. The man's now not just insane, but fanatical--and his aide is bloodthirsty. As for the Vulcan doctor--as that DS9 episode showed, Vulcans can be the most dangerous of murderers because they're so incredibly logical about it.
A very nice job with Bateson relating the story of the Battle of Silustus--you could almost hear the weight in his voice. And Garth's scheme now fully unfolds--genocide. The man's now not just insane, but fanatical--and his aide is bloodthirsty. As for the Vulcan doctor--as that DS9 episode showed, Vulcans can be the most dangerous of murderers because they're so incredibly logical about it.
Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Excellent development here.
Looks like we're going to have our own version of Attack of the Clones in this one. I also liked the history lesson and the background on Garth and even April. That's very interesting stuff.
Garth and even the Vulcan scientists have clearly lost perspective here. It is a bit disconcerting to see these guys have such feelings over the Klingons 70 or so years after Khitomer. I guess it makes more sense for Garth as he is a man from a different generation. And Vulcans do live quite some time.
Very good work here and looking forward to the approaching showdown.
Excellent development here.
Looks like we're going to have our own version of Attack of the Clones in this one. I also liked the history lesson and the background on Garth and even April. That's very interesting stuff.
Garth and even the Vulcan scientists have clearly lost perspective here. It is a bit disconcerting to see these guys have such feelings over the Klingons 70 or so years after Khitomer. I guess it makes more sense for Garth as he is a man from a different generation. And Vulcans do live quite some time.
Very good work here and looking forward to the approaching showdown.
Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
A great segment that really sends the excreta toward the fan. I'm looking forward to seeing how Bateson and Akinola deal with this, and just how much more of a pounding the Bluefin can take.
A great segment that really sends the excreta toward the fan. I'm looking forward to seeing how Bateson and Akinola deal with this, and just how much more of a pounding the Bluefin can take.
Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Chapter Twenty two
Stardate 54077.5 (3 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
Approaching Thurilin's Moon
"Mr. Bane, initiate active scanning. I want to know if there are any other ships in-system," ordered Akinola.
"Aye, sir, I'm on it - initial scans are negative. However, there is a lot of debris floating around that might conceal a small craft."
As Bane spoke, the wing section of an old Klingon destroyer tumbled across their field of view. The green hull plating was buckled and scored from multiple phaser strikes. The Imperial Klingon trefoil was still discernable, though pitted and faded. Lt. Bralus adjusted their course slightly, keeping the Bluefin well clear of the dense debris field.
A thought tickled the back of Akinola's mind as he watched the remains of the Klingon D-5 drift by. He frowned in thought . . . he had missed something, but what? He rubbed his chin in frustration.
"Orbital insertion in five minutes," announced Bralus from the helm.
Akinola was about to respond when Lt. Bane suddenly stiffened at his post. "I'm reading a surge in tachyon emissions, 2000 klicks dead astern!" His voice was tight with apprehension.
Realization dawned on Akinola. "Helm, evasive maneuvers - shields up! Aft view on screen!"
The deck lurched underfoot as the Bluefin increased power and speed, momentarily over-loading the inertial dampeners. Bralus' fingers danced over the helm controls as the cutter accelerated in a series of twists and sharp turns.
On the main viewscreen, a section of space seemed to shimmer, then the form of an Anaconda - class strike fighter coalesced. Two orbs of red light shot from the fighter and began to close the distance to the Bluefin.
Strauss activated the countermeasures, and a swarm of tiny projectiles erupted from below the hangar deck. One of the torpedoes flew directly into the swarm, detonating in a blinding flash of light. The viewscreen automatically dimmed, but Akinola still had to shield his eyes from the brilliance.
"Second torpedo is still locked and tracking us!" exlaimed Bane. "I'm reading it as a quantum warhead."
Akinola and Bateson exchanged brief glances. The Bluefin's shields would not be sufficient protection against a quantum yield.
"Mr. Bralus! Take us into that debris field!" said Akinola, sharply. "XO, I want our weapons hot - load Mark 22's in forward and aft tubes and warm up the phasers."
"Rat-traps and phasers, aye! Standing by, sir." Commander Strauss was calm and focussed. Despite the tension, Akinola smiled slightly at her calm demeanor.
The Bluefin's hull began to creak and pop under the strain of the wild maneuvers, but the cutter hung together. Bralus piled on even more speed. Now, they were in nearly as much peril from collision with a chunk of derelict starship as from the closing torpedo.
"Impact in ten seconds!" announced Bane.
"Mr. Bralus, head for that big wing section, then turn hard to port in seven seconds."
Bralus grunted an acknowledgment, all his concentration focused on the helm controls. A sheen of sweat formed on his blue, bald head. He held his finger over the key that would hurl the cutter ninety degrees to port.
"Now, Bralus!"
The Bluefin suddenly broke to the left. Alarms blared on the bridge as structural integrity fields were over-loaded.
The quantum torpedo tracked in and detonated.
* * *
Major Tilos held up a fist in triumph as he watched the torpedo close on the Bluefin then detonate. The ship's canopy went opaque, protecting his eyes from the sudden sun-like burst of light, then cleared as the blast effect faded.
"Gotcha!" he said, smugly. He moved the fighter in closer to check the debris field and to pick off any life pods, though he doubted any could have survived.
The area was a jumble of debris; bits and pieces of metal sparked as they struck the shields of his fighter.
"Completely annihilated," he murmured, somewhat in awe of the destructive power of the quantum warhead.
Tilos was so intent on gloating over the debris field, he almost failed to notice the two torpedoes that were racing towards him.
* * *
"Torpedoes locked and tracking, sir," announced Strauss.
"Keep closing in, helm. By the way, nice flying, son!" said Akinola, approvingly.
Bralus nodded and exhaled a shuddering breath. "Thank you sir - I had to improvise a little."
Akinola smiled, "Yeah, that quick jump to warp probably saved our hides. It may have been a violation of procedure, but - Hell! It worked!" He looked over at Admiral Bateson. "I believe we can overlook that slight violation of protocol, can't we sir?"
The color was just coming back into Bateson's face, but he managed a wan smile. "Captain, at this point I'm pleased that I didn't soil my pants. You have no complaints from me!"
Akinola settled back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the fighter and the two torpedoes streaking toward it. "Mr. Bane, start compiling damage reports and have a security detail hustle to transporter room one. We're gonna yank that son-of-a-bitch right out of his cockpit!"
* * *
The warble of the missile-lock alarm shocked Tilos out of his reverie.
"What the hell? . . ." he breathed, stunned by the sudden attack. He jammed the throttles into full-impulse, but he was already too late.
The two Mark 22 torpedoes detonated soundlessly within 500 meters of the fighter. The massive electro-magnetic pulse of the two torpedoes easily breached his shields and overwhelmed the small-craft's systems. Tilos looked on in helpless rage as all of his displays went dark and the fighter began to tumble slowly, without power or defenses.
Cursing, he drew his phaser just as he felt the familiar tingle of a transporter engulf him.
* * *
"Okay, Solly, I've got him held up in the pattern buffer," said Chief Deryx from the transporter console. "Looks like he came to play - I'm reading an active phaser."
Solly leveled his phaser carbine at the transporter dais, his yellow eyes narrow and menacing. "I'm not in the mood to play, today. Deactivate his pea-shooter and bring him on board."
Energy coalesced quickly into the form of a well-built human male. Tilos brought up his phaser and pressed the firing stud. Nothing happened.
Senior Chief Brin looked at Tilos with contempt. "Welcome aboard, asshole!" he said, and fired a heavy stun round into the major. Tilos was hurled against the back wall of the transporter chamber, then he slid to the deck. Solly walked over to the prone form. "That's for spilling my coffee!"
Brin turned to the two security ratings. "Haul his sorry carcass down to the brig. I imagine the Skipper will have some questions for him."
The two men drug Tilos out of the transporter room. Brin reached down and picked up the Major's phaser, inspecting it. He grunted. "Looks like Marine issue." He tossed it to Deryx who also inspected it and nodded in agreement.
"You're right," said Deryx, who tossed the phaser back to Solly. "These things are nearly impossible to find on the black market, so . . ."
"So we may have us a genuine Jar-head on our hands, Chief Deryx. And if he's not talkative, I bet the Corps can I.D. him for us!"
* * *
Chapter Twenty two
Stardate 54077.5 (3 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
Approaching Thurilin's Moon
"Mr. Bane, initiate active scanning. I want to know if there are any other ships in-system," ordered Akinola.
"Aye, sir, I'm on it - initial scans are negative. However, there is a lot of debris floating around that might conceal a small craft."
As Bane spoke, the wing section of an old Klingon destroyer tumbled across their field of view. The green hull plating was buckled and scored from multiple phaser strikes. The Imperial Klingon trefoil was still discernable, though pitted and faded. Lt. Bralus adjusted their course slightly, keeping the Bluefin well clear of the dense debris field.
A thought tickled the back of Akinola's mind as he watched the remains of the Klingon D-5 drift by. He frowned in thought . . . he had missed something, but what? He rubbed his chin in frustration.
"Orbital insertion in five minutes," announced Bralus from the helm.
Akinola was about to respond when Lt. Bane suddenly stiffened at his post. "I'm reading a surge in tachyon emissions, 2000 klicks dead astern!" His voice was tight with apprehension.
Realization dawned on Akinola. "Helm, evasive maneuvers - shields up! Aft view on screen!"
The deck lurched underfoot as the Bluefin increased power and speed, momentarily over-loading the inertial dampeners. Bralus' fingers danced over the helm controls as the cutter accelerated in a series of twists and sharp turns.
On the main viewscreen, a section of space seemed to shimmer, then the form of an Anaconda - class strike fighter coalesced. Two orbs of red light shot from the fighter and began to close the distance to the Bluefin.
Strauss activated the countermeasures, and a swarm of tiny projectiles erupted from below the hangar deck. One of the torpedoes flew directly into the swarm, detonating in a blinding flash of light. The viewscreen automatically dimmed, but Akinola still had to shield his eyes from the brilliance.
"Second torpedo is still locked and tracking us!" exlaimed Bane. "I'm reading it as a quantum warhead."
Akinola and Bateson exchanged brief glances. The Bluefin's shields would not be sufficient protection against a quantum yield.
"Mr. Bralus! Take us into that debris field!" said Akinola, sharply. "XO, I want our weapons hot - load Mark 22's in forward and aft tubes and warm up the phasers."
"Rat-traps and phasers, aye! Standing by, sir." Commander Strauss was calm and focussed. Despite the tension, Akinola smiled slightly at her calm demeanor.
The Bluefin's hull began to creak and pop under the strain of the wild maneuvers, but the cutter hung together. Bralus piled on even more speed. Now, they were in nearly as much peril from collision with a chunk of derelict starship as from the closing torpedo.
"Impact in ten seconds!" announced Bane.
"Mr. Bralus, head for that big wing section, then turn hard to port in seven seconds."
Bralus grunted an acknowledgment, all his concentration focused on the helm controls. A sheen of sweat formed on his blue, bald head. He held his finger over the key that would hurl the cutter ninety degrees to port.
"Now, Bralus!"
The Bluefin suddenly broke to the left. Alarms blared on the bridge as structural integrity fields were over-loaded.
The quantum torpedo tracked in and detonated.
* * *
Major Tilos held up a fist in triumph as he watched the torpedo close on the Bluefin then detonate. The ship's canopy went opaque, protecting his eyes from the sudden sun-like burst of light, then cleared as the blast effect faded.
"Gotcha!" he said, smugly. He moved the fighter in closer to check the debris field and to pick off any life pods, though he doubted any could have survived.
The area was a jumble of debris; bits and pieces of metal sparked as they struck the shields of his fighter.
"Completely annihilated," he murmured, somewhat in awe of the destructive power of the quantum warhead.
Tilos was so intent on gloating over the debris field, he almost failed to notice the two torpedoes that were racing towards him.
* * *
"Torpedoes locked and tracking, sir," announced Strauss.
"Keep closing in, helm. By the way, nice flying, son!" said Akinola, approvingly.
Bralus nodded and exhaled a shuddering breath. "Thank you sir - I had to improvise a little."
Akinola smiled, "Yeah, that quick jump to warp probably saved our hides. It may have been a violation of procedure, but - Hell! It worked!" He looked over at Admiral Bateson. "I believe we can overlook that slight violation of protocol, can't we sir?"
The color was just coming back into Bateson's face, but he managed a wan smile. "Captain, at this point I'm pleased that I didn't soil my pants. You have no complaints from me!"
Akinola settled back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the fighter and the two torpedoes streaking toward it. "Mr. Bane, start compiling damage reports and have a security detail hustle to transporter room one. We're gonna yank that son-of-a-bitch right out of his cockpit!"
* * *
The warble of the missile-lock alarm shocked Tilos out of his reverie.
"What the hell? . . ." he breathed, stunned by the sudden attack. He jammed the throttles into full-impulse, but he was already too late.
The two Mark 22 torpedoes detonated soundlessly within 500 meters of the fighter. The massive electro-magnetic pulse of the two torpedoes easily breached his shields and overwhelmed the small-craft's systems. Tilos looked on in helpless rage as all of his displays went dark and the fighter began to tumble slowly, without power or defenses.
Cursing, he drew his phaser just as he felt the familiar tingle of a transporter engulf him.
* * *
"Okay, Solly, I've got him held up in the pattern buffer," said Chief Deryx from the transporter console. "Looks like he came to play - I'm reading an active phaser."
Solly leveled his phaser carbine at the transporter dais, his yellow eyes narrow and menacing. "I'm not in the mood to play, today. Deactivate his pea-shooter and bring him on board."
Energy coalesced quickly into the form of a well-built human male. Tilos brought up his phaser and pressed the firing stud. Nothing happened.
Senior Chief Brin looked at Tilos with contempt. "Welcome aboard, asshole!" he said, and fired a heavy stun round into the major. Tilos was hurled against the back wall of the transporter chamber, then he slid to the deck. Solly walked over to the prone form. "That's for spilling my coffee!"
Brin turned to the two security ratings. "Haul his sorry carcass down to the brig. I imagine the Skipper will have some questions for him."
The two men drug Tilos out of the transporter room. Brin reached down and picked up the Major's phaser, inspecting it. He grunted. "Looks like Marine issue." He tossed it to Deryx who also inspected it and nodded in agreement.
"You're right," said Deryx, who tossed the phaser back to Solly. "These things are nearly impossible to find on the black market, so . . ."
"So we may have us a genuine Jar-head on our hands, Chief Deryx. And if he's not talkative, I bet the Corps can I.D. him for us!"
* * *
Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Ah, a typical warm Bluefin welcome: "Welcome aboard, a-hole."
Gotta love it.
Nice action packed segment that perfectly outlines why Akinola and his crew are among the best in the Border Service.
And now let's have a nice Bluefin style interrogation to round things off. Can't be much more painful ... or can it?
Great stuff!
Ah, a typical warm Bluefin welcome: "Welcome aboard, a-hole."
Gotta love it.Nice action packed segment that perfectly outlines why Akinola and his crew are among the best in the Border Service.
And now let's have a nice Bluefin style interrogation to round things off. Can't be much more painful ... or can it?
Great stuff!
Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Bad cop, worse cop.
He picked the wrong cutter to mess with.
Oh well, plenty more idiots where he came from.
Bad cop, worse cop.
He picked the wrong cutter to mess with.
Oh well, plenty more idiots where he came from.
Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Quick thinking on the part of all concerned: Akinola, Bane, and especially Bralus. And the good major received a proper Bluefin welcome.
Nicely done!
Quick thinking on the part of all concerned: Akinola, Bane, and especially Bralus. And the good major received a proper Bluefin welcome.
Nicely done!
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