Tales of the USS Bluefin - 8: "Stand-off!"
- Thread starter TheLoneRedshirt
- Start date
The Akinola / Bateson segment was a delightful passage. And certainly did reveal some interesting facts about D'Angelo.
It looks like Akinola and D'Angelo will team up to face a hard-core terrorist organization. Nothing about that sounds like it's going to be a smooth operation.
It looks like Akinola and D'Angelo will team up to face a hard-core terrorist organization. Nothing about that sounds like it's going to be a smooth operation.
Chapter Five
Stardate 54244.4 (31 March 2377)
USS Sequoia
Star Station Echo - Berth Five
Commander Galvani exited the turbo lift onto the bridge of the cutter, Sequoia. Lt. Phillip Lamonica quickly stood from the center seat as the XO rounded the railing of the control pit.
"'Morning, Phil," said Galvani, cheerfully. She glanced around the bridge. "I take it no one broke anything while I was off-duty?"
The young-looking tactical officer snapped off a smart salute. "No, sir! The Lieutenant has refrained from frakking up while sitting on his ass, sir!"
She shook her head and gave him a tolerant look. "Stow the sarcasm, Mister Lamonica - it's not becoming and you're not good at it. Anything unusual to report?"
Lamonica favored her with a crooked grin. "Not much excitement, sir, seeing as we're tied up to the station." His smile faded slightly. "The Captain said he wanted to see you as soon as you arrived on the bridge." He nodded his head in the direction of the ready room.
Galvani refrained from rolling her eyes. Now what? she thought. Aloud, she said, "Thanks, Phil. Keep the seat warm for me."
His smile returned. "You got it, Commander."
Commander Galvani turned and stepped back up onto the outer ring of the bridge, heading aft toward the Captain's ready room. Taking a breath, she affixed a neutral expression on her face and pressed the enunciator. Her sharp ears picked up the melodic chime, followed by a crisp, "Enter!"
The XO entered to find Captain D'Angelo leaned back in his desk chair, staring out the viewport. She was slightly surprised as he usually tended to sit ramrod straight when anyone entered his presence. His normal, emotionless mask had slipped also, revealing a look of consternation - almost anger.
She approached within one meter of his desk, drew herself up straight and fixed her gaze twenty centimeters over D'Angelo's head.
"Commander Galvani, reporting as ordered," she said, crisply. D'Angelo was a stickler for protocol, so she made sure she did everything by the book. Well, at least when the Captain was around.
The Captain absently waved a hand. "Have a seat, XO."
Galvani's own neutral expression slipped a bit in surprise. D'Angelo had never invited her to sit in his presence. She hesitated a brief moment, then sat in one of the comfortable guest chairs, waiting.
D'Angelo remained silent for a long moment. Galvani wasn't sure whether he was about to read her the riot act or tell her a dirty joke, his behavior was so out of character.
WIthout turning to face her directly, he finally spoke.
"I just received our orders from Admiral Bateson," he began in his typical, quiet voice. Galvani thought that she detected a hint of barely restrained sarcasm beneath his carefully controlled voice.
"Yes sir?"
"It would seem, Commander, that the Admiral does not trust us . . . no - strike that - does not trust me enough to allow us an assignment on our own. For the next three weeks, we are to accompany the Bluefin on her patrol to 'observe and learn' from Captain Akinola."
"Captain - that's not altogether unusual. The squadron often dispatches cutters in groups . . ."
"In special circumstances," interrupted D'Angelo. "Yes, yes, I'm aware of that XO. But there are currently no alerts, no special directives or anything of that nature. I have the distinct impression that Admiral Bateson has doubts about the capabilities of this ship and doubts about my abilities to command."
Galvani did not respond. She wasn't sure how to respond to that.
D'Angleo emitted a snorting sound that Galvani suddenly realized was muted laughter. "It would seem, Commander, that we're caught between the proverbial 'rock and a hard place' - the rock being Admiral Bouvier and the hard place being Admiral Bateson."
Galvani decided to venture out on a limb. "Sir," she began carefully, "I don't know much about Admiral Bouvier, but I know Admiral Bateson pretty well. He knows as much as anyone about Border Service operations and he tends to be protective of his squadron. If he believes we're here because Admiral Bouvier has some sort of agenda . . ."
"Admiral Bouvier does have an agenda, XO. I'm just not entirely sure what it is." He paused again and Galvani remained quiet, not wanting to shut down this tendril of openness from her normally taciturn Captain.
As if reading her mind, D'Angelo changed the subject. "Since we're going to be working with Captain Akinola these next few weeks, I'd like your take on the man. After all, you served under him."
Did she note a tone of sarcasm? Jealousy, perhaps? D'Angelo was still such an enigma to her that she couldn't say for sure.
She allowed a small smile to form on her face. "What would you like to know?"
* * *
Stardate 54244.5 (31 March 2377)
SS Queen Elizabeth VII
Sector 04339
Captain Lumford absently noted the arrival of the white-jacketed steward on the bridge. His arrival was hardly note-worthy. It was common for the galley to send up tea, coffee and sandwiches for the bridge crew.
A sharp expletive from the first officer quickly dispelled any routineness about the steward's presence.
Lumford turned and was shocked to see the steward holding a nasty-looking disruptor pistol. It was aimed squarely at the first officer's chest. Even more shocking was the sight of the second officer holding a similar weapon which was currently leveled at the comm officer.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Lumford.
"Just have a seat, Captain, and no one gets hurt," replied the Bajoran steward. "A Neo-Maquis strike force is currently taking operational control of this vessel. If you cooperate, the passengers and crew will survive this operation. However, any interference by anyone, whether intentional or not, will be met by deadly force!"
The Captain blanched with indignant outrage. "Are you telling me you intend to hijack this ship? Are you mad?!"
"The hijacking is a fait accompli, Captain. Already, my team has secured the bridge, engineering, communications and enviornmental control."
"To what end?" retorted Lumford. "Ransom? Some fool political stunt? Surely you know the Federation doesn't deal with terrorists!"
Kenda Byress shrugged slightly. "Oh, I believe that they will 'deal' with us, when the time is right. That's not your concern, anyway, is it?"
Suddenly, the first officer lunged toward the steward, making a desperate attempt to grab the disruptor. Before he managed two steps, the shrill whine of Kenda's disruptor filled the bridge, along with a sickly, green light.
First officer Byron Griggs, age 42, father of three, dissolved before their eyes. As the glow faded, their nostrils were assaulted with the stench of charred flesh and ozone.
Kenda trained his disruptor on a white-faced Lumford. The Captain was visibly trembling, but not from fear.
"You bloody butcher!" Lumford hissed. "You murdered him in cold blood."
"Only a fool attacks someone holding a charged disruptor," replied Kenda, calmly. "Now - take your seat and mind your manners, Captain. Mr. Warren?" he addressed his comrade, the erstwhile second officer. "Please bring us about to a new heading - 226 mark 33. What is our current speed?"
Warren bruskly shoved the helmsman from his post and inputted the course change. "Current speed is warp 8," he replied.
Kendra nodded as he slipped off the white steward's jacket, tossing it over an auxiliary console. "Increase speed to warp 9."
Lumford shook his head. "You'll overstress the warp core! She's not designed to cruise at that speed!"
The Bajoran smiled thinly. "Captain - please. I know full well the QE VII holds the speed record for starliners. She can run at warp 9 for weeks without a hiccup. Do us both a favor - don't try any little games of deception. It won't help you and may cause me to become annoyed. Understand?"
The Captain glowered but remained silent.
"Secure these others," said Kendra to Warren. "Then check on the engineering team." He looked at the large chronometer on the bulkhead. "Three days until we reach our destination," he murmured. "Then the fun really begins!"
* * *
Stardate 54244.5 (30 March 2377)
USS Bluefin
Star Station Echo - Berth Six
"Okay, that takes care of the environmental upgrades," said Captain Akinola. "Are we finished with re-load and re-supply?"
Commander Strauss sat across from the Captain in his ready room. She glanced at the PADD on her lap. "Yes sir - we're loaded out with Mark 22's and Mark IX's. And here's a little added bonus," she said with an enigmatic smile.
"What?" asked Akinola as he hoisted a mug of coffee.
"Six quantum torpedoes," she replied smugly.
Akinola's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No kidding! How did you manage that?"
"The armory had extras that had been designated for the Magellan. Apparently they weren't needed, so . . ." She gave a little shrug and looked upwards, expressing total innocence.
The Captain grinned. "Why Inga! I didn't know you had it in you. Nice work!"
"I do have to admit, Senior Chief Brin helped."
"He did? How . . . Wait!" he held up a hand in warning. "I don't want to know."
They were interrupted by the chime of Akinola's comm terminal. He tapped the reply stud. "Go ahead."
"Lt. Bane, sir. Captain D'Angelo of the Sequoia is signaling and wishes to speak to you."
Akinola glanced up at Strauss. "XO, do you mind?"
Inga smiled as she rose from the chair. "Not at all, sir. I'll be on the bridge if you need me."
The Captain turned back to the terminal. "Patch him through, Nigel."
"Aye sir. One moment."
The screen shifted from the image of the Australian Ops officer to the C.O. of the Sequoia. Captain D'Angelo wore his typical impassive expression.
Akinola nodded. "Good morning, Captain. What can I do for you?"
"I understand that we will be going out on patrol together," said D'Angelo.
Akinola nodded. "That's right. I hope to head out in 24 hours - will that work for you?"
"24 hours is fine. We'll be ready."
"Captain D'Angelo, why don't you join me for dinner this evening? We can talk a bit about the patrol area and get better acquainted. Not to mention, I've got one of the few chefs serving in the fleet if you'd like something that doesn't come out of replicator."
D'Angelo hesitated, a look of indecision briefly flickering across his face.
"Very well. What time should I come aboard?"
"Make it 1900 hours. I guarantee you won't be disappointed in the meal!"
D'Angelo nodded curtly. "Acknowledged. D'Angelo, out."
Akinola regarded the terminal, now displaying the Border Service insignia, and let out a sigh.
"Loosen up, son," he said quietly.
* * *
Stardate 54244.4 (31 March 2377)
USS Sequoia
Star Station Echo - Berth Five
Commander Galvani exited the turbo lift onto the bridge of the cutter, Sequoia. Lt. Phillip Lamonica quickly stood from the center seat as the XO rounded the railing of the control pit.
"'Morning, Phil," said Galvani, cheerfully. She glanced around the bridge. "I take it no one broke anything while I was off-duty?"
The young-looking tactical officer snapped off a smart salute. "No, sir! The Lieutenant has refrained from frakking up while sitting on his ass, sir!"
She shook her head and gave him a tolerant look. "Stow the sarcasm, Mister Lamonica - it's not becoming and you're not good at it. Anything unusual to report?"
Lamonica favored her with a crooked grin. "Not much excitement, sir, seeing as we're tied up to the station." His smile faded slightly. "The Captain said he wanted to see you as soon as you arrived on the bridge." He nodded his head in the direction of the ready room.
Galvani refrained from rolling her eyes. Now what? she thought. Aloud, she said, "Thanks, Phil. Keep the seat warm for me."
His smile returned. "You got it, Commander."
Commander Galvani turned and stepped back up onto the outer ring of the bridge, heading aft toward the Captain's ready room. Taking a breath, she affixed a neutral expression on her face and pressed the enunciator. Her sharp ears picked up the melodic chime, followed by a crisp, "Enter!"
The XO entered to find Captain D'Angelo leaned back in his desk chair, staring out the viewport. She was slightly surprised as he usually tended to sit ramrod straight when anyone entered his presence. His normal, emotionless mask had slipped also, revealing a look of consternation - almost anger.
She approached within one meter of his desk, drew herself up straight and fixed her gaze twenty centimeters over D'Angelo's head.
"Commander Galvani, reporting as ordered," she said, crisply. D'Angelo was a stickler for protocol, so she made sure she did everything by the book. Well, at least when the Captain was around.
The Captain absently waved a hand. "Have a seat, XO."
Galvani's own neutral expression slipped a bit in surprise. D'Angelo had never invited her to sit in his presence. She hesitated a brief moment, then sat in one of the comfortable guest chairs, waiting.
D'Angelo remained silent for a long moment. Galvani wasn't sure whether he was about to read her the riot act or tell her a dirty joke, his behavior was so out of character.
WIthout turning to face her directly, he finally spoke.
"I just received our orders from Admiral Bateson," he began in his typical, quiet voice. Galvani thought that she detected a hint of barely restrained sarcasm beneath his carefully controlled voice.
"Yes sir?"
"It would seem, Commander, that the Admiral does not trust us . . . no - strike that - does not trust me enough to allow us an assignment on our own. For the next three weeks, we are to accompany the Bluefin on her patrol to 'observe and learn' from Captain Akinola."
"Captain - that's not altogether unusual. The squadron often dispatches cutters in groups . . ."
"In special circumstances," interrupted D'Angelo. "Yes, yes, I'm aware of that XO. But there are currently no alerts, no special directives or anything of that nature. I have the distinct impression that Admiral Bateson has doubts about the capabilities of this ship and doubts about my abilities to command."
Galvani did not respond. She wasn't sure how to respond to that.
D'Angleo emitted a snorting sound that Galvani suddenly realized was muted laughter. "It would seem, Commander, that we're caught between the proverbial 'rock and a hard place' - the rock being Admiral Bouvier and the hard place being Admiral Bateson."
Galvani decided to venture out on a limb. "Sir," she began carefully, "I don't know much about Admiral Bouvier, but I know Admiral Bateson pretty well. He knows as much as anyone about Border Service operations and he tends to be protective of his squadron. If he believes we're here because Admiral Bouvier has some sort of agenda . . ."
"Admiral Bouvier does have an agenda, XO. I'm just not entirely sure what it is." He paused again and Galvani remained quiet, not wanting to shut down this tendril of openness from her normally taciturn Captain.
As if reading her mind, D'Angelo changed the subject. "Since we're going to be working with Captain Akinola these next few weeks, I'd like your take on the man. After all, you served under him."
Did she note a tone of sarcasm? Jealousy, perhaps? D'Angelo was still such an enigma to her that she couldn't say for sure.
She allowed a small smile to form on her face. "What would you like to know?"
* * *
Stardate 54244.5 (31 March 2377)
SS Queen Elizabeth VII
Sector 04339
Captain Lumford absently noted the arrival of the white-jacketed steward on the bridge. His arrival was hardly note-worthy. It was common for the galley to send up tea, coffee and sandwiches for the bridge crew.
A sharp expletive from the first officer quickly dispelled any routineness about the steward's presence.
Lumford turned and was shocked to see the steward holding a nasty-looking disruptor pistol. It was aimed squarely at the first officer's chest. Even more shocking was the sight of the second officer holding a similar weapon which was currently leveled at the comm officer.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Lumford.
"Just have a seat, Captain, and no one gets hurt," replied the Bajoran steward. "A Neo-Maquis strike force is currently taking operational control of this vessel. If you cooperate, the passengers and crew will survive this operation. However, any interference by anyone, whether intentional or not, will be met by deadly force!"
The Captain blanched with indignant outrage. "Are you telling me you intend to hijack this ship? Are you mad?!"
"The hijacking is a fait accompli, Captain. Already, my team has secured the bridge, engineering, communications and enviornmental control."
"To what end?" retorted Lumford. "Ransom? Some fool political stunt? Surely you know the Federation doesn't deal with terrorists!"
Kenda Byress shrugged slightly. "Oh, I believe that they will 'deal' with us, when the time is right. That's not your concern, anyway, is it?"
Suddenly, the first officer lunged toward the steward, making a desperate attempt to grab the disruptor. Before he managed two steps, the shrill whine of Kenda's disruptor filled the bridge, along with a sickly, green light.
First officer Byron Griggs, age 42, father of three, dissolved before their eyes. As the glow faded, their nostrils were assaulted with the stench of charred flesh and ozone.
Kenda trained his disruptor on a white-faced Lumford. The Captain was visibly trembling, but not from fear.
"You bloody butcher!" Lumford hissed. "You murdered him in cold blood."
"Only a fool attacks someone holding a charged disruptor," replied Kenda, calmly. "Now - take your seat and mind your manners, Captain. Mr. Warren?" he addressed his comrade, the erstwhile second officer. "Please bring us about to a new heading - 226 mark 33. What is our current speed?"
Warren bruskly shoved the helmsman from his post and inputted the course change. "Current speed is warp 8," he replied.
Kendra nodded as he slipped off the white steward's jacket, tossing it over an auxiliary console. "Increase speed to warp 9."
Lumford shook his head. "You'll overstress the warp core! She's not designed to cruise at that speed!"
The Bajoran smiled thinly. "Captain - please. I know full well the QE VII holds the speed record for starliners. She can run at warp 9 for weeks without a hiccup. Do us both a favor - don't try any little games of deception. It won't help you and may cause me to become annoyed. Understand?"
The Captain glowered but remained silent.
"Secure these others," said Kendra to Warren. "Then check on the engineering team." He looked at the large chronometer on the bulkhead. "Three days until we reach our destination," he murmured. "Then the fun really begins!"
* * *
Stardate 54244.5 (30 March 2377)
USS Bluefin
Star Station Echo - Berth Six
"Okay, that takes care of the environmental upgrades," said Captain Akinola. "Are we finished with re-load and re-supply?"
Commander Strauss sat across from the Captain in his ready room. She glanced at the PADD on her lap. "Yes sir - we're loaded out with Mark 22's and Mark IX's. And here's a little added bonus," she said with an enigmatic smile.
"What?" asked Akinola as he hoisted a mug of coffee.
"Six quantum torpedoes," she replied smugly.
Akinola's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No kidding! How did you manage that?"
"The armory had extras that had been designated for the Magellan. Apparently they weren't needed, so . . ." She gave a little shrug and looked upwards, expressing total innocence.
The Captain grinned. "Why Inga! I didn't know you had it in you. Nice work!"
"I do have to admit, Senior Chief Brin helped."
"He did? How . . . Wait!" he held up a hand in warning. "I don't want to know."
They were interrupted by the chime of Akinola's comm terminal. He tapped the reply stud. "Go ahead."
"Lt. Bane, sir. Captain D'Angelo of the Sequoia is signaling and wishes to speak to you."
Akinola glanced up at Strauss. "XO, do you mind?"
Inga smiled as she rose from the chair. "Not at all, sir. I'll be on the bridge if you need me."
The Captain turned back to the terminal. "Patch him through, Nigel."
"Aye sir. One moment."
The screen shifted from the image of the Australian Ops officer to the C.O. of the Sequoia. Captain D'Angelo wore his typical impassive expression.
Akinola nodded. "Good morning, Captain. What can I do for you?"
"I understand that we will be going out on patrol together," said D'Angelo.
Akinola nodded. "That's right. I hope to head out in 24 hours - will that work for you?"
"24 hours is fine. We'll be ready."
"Captain D'Angelo, why don't you join me for dinner this evening? We can talk a bit about the patrol area and get better acquainted. Not to mention, I've got one of the few chefs serving in the fleet if you'd like something that doesn't come out of replicator."
D'Angelo hesitated, a look of indecision briefly flickering across his face.
"Very well. What time should I come aboard?"
"Make it 1900 hours. I guarantee you won't be disappointed in the meal!"
D'Angelo nodded curtly. "Acknowledged. D'Angelo, out."
Akinola regarded the terminal, now displaying the Border Service insignia, and let out a sigh.
"Loosen up, son," he said quietly.
* * *
The Neo-Maquis definitely mean business. D'Angelo realized that he's in a tough spot and that Beauvoir has her own agenda and that he is a pawn; the question is--is he wise enough to know when a lifeline is offered and then to take it.
D'Angelo is in a hard spot. He's got a lot to prove to the rest of the Fleet (or he thinks he does) based on his father's reputation. He's being used as a pawn in Beauvoir's machinations, and is perhaps too stubborn to realize the value of learning from Akinola's vast reservoir of experience.
Let's hope his crew doesn't end up paying the price for his obstinacy.
Let's hope his crew doesn't end up paying the price for his obstinacy.
Chapter Six
Stardate 54245.1 (1 April 2377)
Buoy Tender USS Pamlico
Sector 04340
Lt. Commander Kelesdi Nor Huren, C.O. of the buoy tender Pamlico, tried but failed to ignore the incessant chime of her comm terminal. Emitting a sigh of resignation, the Rigellian rolled out of her bunk and padded toward the desk, stabbing the reply button a fraction harder than necessary.
"What is it, Tien? I was enjoying a very nice dream," Nor Huren said with a touch of reproach in her voice.
"Sorry to wake you," replied Lt. (j.g.) Li Zao Tien, the tender's XO. "We've just picked up a transient contact."
Nor Huren rubbed the scales on the bridge of her nose in a very human gesture. "Are they sending a distress signal?"
The image of the dimunitive Asian XO blinked on the screen. "Well, no . . ."
"Are they venting plasma?"
"No."
"Have they fired a spread of torpedoes our way?"
"Um, no."
The skipper took a deep breath and sighed. "Tien?"
"Yes, skipper?"
"Why in the name of the seven swamp demons did you wake me?"
"It's the Queen Elizabeth VII, ma'am. It's way off course and running at warp 9."
Nor Huren's eyes widened at this new piece of information. "I'm on my way to the bridge. Have you tried hailing them?"
"Yes ma'am, no response."
"Keep at it. I'll be there in three minutes."
* * *
Two minutes and forty three seconds later, Commander Nor Huren stepped onto the bridge of the converted Oberth-class tender.
"Anything?" she queried.
Tien shook her head. "No ma'am. Joryk has plotted an intercept course, but if they change heading again we'll never catch them."
Nor Huren stared at the viewscreen. "Maximum magnification, Joryk."
The Edosian helmsman tapped a control with his third hand and the viewscreen shimmered, then sharpened into focus. Sure enough, there was the unmistakeable outline of a large starliner.
"You checked with the Cunnard office?"
"First thing I did, Skipper," replied Tien. "They're supposed to be on their way to Vega."
The Rigellian C.O. eased into the command chair. "Where will their current course take them?"
"They are on a direct heading to the Brez-krill system."
"Frak me sideways with a photon grenade!" she practically shouted. "Tien - open a priority channel to Echo and patch me through to Admiral Bateson - and I don't care who you have to wake up to do it!"
* * *
Stardate 54245.1 (1 April 2377)
SS Queen Elizabeth VII
Sector 04340
"Mr. Kendra!"
"What is it, Mr. Warren?"
"I'm picking up a ship pursuing us." The Neo-Maquis terrorist adjusted the gain on the starliner's external sensors. "Oberth-class," he continued with a note of surprise in his voice. "I thought they had all been retired or scrapped."
Kendra's brow furrowed. "As I recall, the Border Service converted a few into buoy tenders. They're no threat to us though - I doubt if it's even armed."
"Yes, but they can communicate! It won't take a genius for them to figure this ship is a long way off course!"
The Bajoran shrugged. "So? They'll just pass along the news ahead of schedule - that's all. Starfleet won't dare try to stop us, not with all of these civilian sheep on board. They'll follow us, I'm sure, but they'll wait on us to make the first move."
Warren snorted. "I thought we'd already made the first move."
"Not completely, Mr. Warren. You're familiar with the Terran game, chess?"
"Sure."
"Well, we've selected and picked up the first piece. We have yet to set it down to complete the move."
* * *
Stardate 54245.2 (1 April 2377)
USS Bluefin
Star Station Echo - Berth Six
Captain Akinola washed down the last bite of his waffle with coffee and picked up his depleted breakfast tray, taking it to the disposal slot. Lt. Commander T'Ser was entering the wardroom with her breakfast and nodded at Akinola.
"Good morning, Captain," she said.
"Commander," he replied in way of greeting. "Ready to get under way?"
She placed the tray on the long table and made her way to the coffee urn. "More than ready! Even a routine milk run seems like an adventure after being planet-side so long."
Akinola was about to reply, when his combadge chirped.
"Bridge to Captain," came the voice of Ensign Vashtee.
Akinola tapped the combadge. "Go ahead Ensign."
"Priority one message from Admiral Bateson, sir."
Akinola frowned and T'Ser's eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"Patch it to the wardroom, Ensign."
"Aye sir."
Akinola and T'Ser walked over to a wall mounted terminal at the end of the room. Admiral Bateson's image appeared momentarily. His expression was serious.
"Captain, I need you and Sequoia to sortee as soon as possible. How quickly can you get under way?"
Captain Akinola frowned in thought. "If we go to alert, fifteen minutes. What's going on, sir?"
"We just got word from the Pamlico that the starliner, Queen Elizabeth VII, was way off course and running wide open. They would not answer Pamlico's hails."
"Any idea why?"
"None yet. However, that's not the worst of it. The liner is on a direct course for the Brez-krill system."
Akinola felt a chill of apprehension tingle his neck. T'Ser's eyes widened at the news.
"Understood, sir. What are your instructions?"
"Make every effort to intercept the QE before she gets to that system! And find out what the hell is going on!"
"Do we have any other assets in that region?"
"Negative. The Pamlico just happened to be setting out a replacement warning buoy. They're pursuing but can't keep up. I've contacted the Amberjack and the Scamp, but it will take them longer to intercept than you. Starfleet is also aware of the situation and they've dispatched the Resolute, but it could take a day or more to arrive on station." Bateson paused, "Joseph, I don't need to remind you of how badly this could go."
"No sir," replied Akinola, grimly. "I get the picture. Any idea how many souls are on board?"
"Over 2800," replied Bateson, quietly.
Akinola nodded, "Any guesses about this, Admiral?"
"All we've got are guesses at this point. Could be a systems failure of some sort. But to head on this particular course with no communications? Sounds intentional to me."
"Yeah, but why? And this is much bigger than anything the Orion pirates have ever attempted," Akinola said thoughtfully. He looked sharply at the Admiral's image. "What if they refuse to stop? Or can't?"
Bateson hesitated, "Joseph - obviously we want the safe recovery of the passengers and crew of the QE, but that ship must not violate the Brez-krill system boundary. That is your top priority - is that understood?"
Akinola grimaced. "Yes sir, understood. I'll signal Captain D'Angelo and get them ready to launch. I'll brief him when we're underway. How long until the QE reaches Brez-krill?"
"At their current speed, about two days.Good luck, Joseph! I'll keep you apprised of any new information."
"Thanks," the Captain replied, though his mind was already at work tackling the problem. "We'll handle it, sir."
"I know you will. Bateson, out."
Akinola turned to look at T'Ser who wore an expression of grave concern.
"It looks like that milk run will have to wait for another time, Commander," he said, then tapped his combadge.
"Akinola to Commander Simms."
"Simms here, sir."
"Delta, sound general quarters and prepare for emergency departure stations. Have Vashtee signal the Sequoia to do likewise and to form up on us. We've got a runaway starliner to catch!"
"Aye, sir," came Simms startled reply. "How shall we set our course?"
Akinola thought for a moment. "Make it 240 mark 22, and take us to maximum warp once we clear the outer markers. I'm on my way to the bridge right now."
Akinola and T'Ser hurried from the wardroom. T'Ser's breakfast tray remained on the table, untouched and forgotten. The sound of Delta Simms' voice suddenly filled the ship and red lights began to pulse rythmically.
"All hands, all hands, general quarters, general quarters. Report to your duty stations for immediate departure. This is not a drill. Repeat - this is not a drill. All hands, all hands . . ."
Akinola and T'Ser entered the turbo-lift which began its quick ascent to the bridge.
"Captain," began T'Ser, "If we can't stop the Queen Elizabeth in time . . .?"
"Then," replied Akinola in a heavy tone, "the moment the QE enters the Brez-krill system, we will be at war with the Tzen-Kethi."
* * *
Stardate 54245.1 (1 April 2377)
Buoy Tender USS Pamlico
Sector 04340
Lt. Commander Kelesdi Nor Huren, C.O. of the buoy tender Pamlico, tried but failed to ignore the incessant chime of her comm terminal. Emitting a sigh of resignation, the Rigellian rolled out of her bunk and padded toward the desk, stabbing the reply button a fraction harder than necessary.
"What is it, Tien? I was enjoying a very nice dream," Nor Huren said with a touch of reproach in her voice.
"Sorry to wake you," replied Lt. (j.g.) Li Zao Tien, the tender's XO. "We've just picked up a transient contact."
Nor Huren rubbed the scales on the bridge of her nose in a very human gesture. "Are they sending a distress signal?"
The image of the dimunitive Asian XO blinked on the screen. "Well, no . . ."
"Are they venting plasma?"
"No."
"Have they fired a spread of torpedoes our way?"
"Um, no."
The skipper took a deep breath and sighed. "Tien?"
"Yes, skipper?"
"Why in the name of the seven swamp demons did you wake me?"
"It's the Queen Elizabeth VII, ma'am. It's way off course and running at warp 9."
Nor Huren's eyes widened at this new piece of information. "I'm on my way to the bridge. Have you tried hailing them?"
"Yes ma'am, no response."
"Keep at it. I'll be there in three minutes."
* * *
Two minutes and forty three seconds later, Commander Nor Huren stepped onto the bridge of the converted Oberth-class tender.
"Anything?" she queried.
Tien shook her head. "No ma'am. Joryk has plotted an intercept course, but if they change heading again we'll never catch them."
Nor Huren stared at the viewscreen. "Maximum magnification, Joryk."
The Edosian helmsman tapped a control with his third hand and the viewscreen shimmered, then sharpened into focus. Sure enough, there was the unmistakeable outline of a large starliner.
"You checked with the Cunnard office?"
"First thing I did, Skipper," replied Tien. "They're supposed to be on their way to Vega."
The Rigellian C.O. eased into the command chair. "Where will their current course take them?"
"They are on a direct heading to the Brez-krill system."
"Frak me sideways with a photon grenade!" she practically shouted. "Tien - open a priority channel to Echo and patch me through to Admiral Bateson - and I don't care who you have to wake up to do it!"
* * *
Stardate 54245.1 (1 April 2377)
SS Queen Elizabeth VII
Sector 04340
"Mr. Kendra!"
"What is it, Mr. Warren?"
"I'm picking up a ship pursuing us." The Neo-Maquis terrorist adjusted the gain on the starliner's external sensors. "Oberth-class," he continued with a note of surprise in his voice. "I thought they had all been retired or scrapped."
Kendra's brow furrowed. "As I recall, the Border Service converted a few into buoy tenders. They're no threat to us though - I doubt if it's even armed."
"Yes, but they can communicate! It won't take a genius for them to figure this ship is a long way off course!"
The Bajoran shrugged. "So? They'll just pass along the news ahead of schedule - that's all. Starfleet won't dare try to stop us, not with all of these civilian sheep on board. They'll follow us, I'm sure, but they'll wait on us to make the first move."
Warren snorted. "I thought we'd already made the first move."
"Not completely, Mr. Warren. You're familiar with the Terran game, chess?"
"Sure."
"Well, we've selected and picked up the first piece. We have yet to set it down to complete the move."
* * *
Stardate 54245.2 (1 April 2377)
USS Bluefin
Star Station Echo - Berth Six
Captain Akinola washed down the last bite of his waffle with coffee and picked up his depleted breakfast tray, taking it to the disposal slot. Lt. Commander T'Ser was entering the wardroom with her breakfast and nodded at Akinola.
"Good morning, Captain," she said.
"Commander," he replied in way of greeting. "Ready to get under way?"
She placed the tray on the long table and made her way to the coffee urn. "More than ready! Even a routine milk run seems like an adventure after being planet-side so long."
Akinola was about to reply, when his combadge chirped.
"Bridge to Captain," came the voice of Ensign Vashtee.
Akinola tapped the combadge. "Go ahead Ensign."
"Priority one message from Admiral Bateson, sir."
Akinola frowned and T'Ser's eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"Patch it to the wardroom, Ensign."
"Aye sir."
Akinola and T'Ser walked over to a wall mounted terminal at the end of the room. Admiral Bateson's image appeared momentarily. His expression was serious.
"Captain, I need you and Sequoia to sortee as soon as possible. How quickly can you get under way?"
Captain Akinola frowned in thought. "If we go to alert, fifteen minutes. What's going on, sir?"
"We just got word from the Pamlico that the starliner, Queen Elizabeth VII, was way off course and running wide open. They would not answer Pamlico's hails."
"Any idea why?"
"None yet. However, that's not the worst of it. The liner is on a direct course for the Brez-krill system."
Akinola felt a chill of apprehension tingle his neck. T'Ser's eyes widened at the news.
"Understood, sir. What are your instructions?"
"Make every effort to intercept the QE before she gets to that system! And find out what the hell is going on!"
"Do we have any other assets in that region?"
"Negative. The Pamlico just happened to be setting out a replacement warning buoy. They're pursuing but can't keep up. I've contacted the Amberjack and the Scamp, but it will take them longer to intercept than you. Starfleet is also aware of the situation and they've dispatched the Resolute, but it could take a day or more to arrive on station." Bateson paused, "Joseph, I don't need to remind you of how badly this could go."
"No sir," replied Akinola, grimly. "I get the picture. Any idea how many souls are on board?"
"Over 2800," replied Bateson, quietly.
Akinola nodded, "Any guesses about this, Admiral?"
"All we've got are guesses at this point. Could be a systems failure of some sort. But to head on this particular course with no communications? Sounds intentional to me."
"Yeah, but why? And this is much bigger than anything the Orion pirates have ever attempted," Akinola said thoughtfully. He looked sharply at the Admiral's image. "What if they refuse to stop? Or can't?"
Bateson hesitated, "Joseph - obviously we want the safe recovery of the passengers and crew of the QE, but that ship must not violate the Brez-krill system boundary. That is your top priority - is that understood?"
Akinola grimaced. "Yes sir, understood. I'll signal Captain D'Angelo and get them ready to launch. I'll brief him when we're underway. How long until the QE reaches Brez-krill?"
"At their current speed, about two days.Good luck, Joseph! I'll keep you apprised of any new information."
"Thanks," the Captain replied, though his mind was already at work tackling the problem. "We'll handle it, sir."
"I know you will. Bateson, out."
Akinola turned to look at T'Ser who wore an expression of grave concern.
"It looks like that milk run will have to wait for another time, Commander," he said, then tapped his combadge.
"Akinola to Commander Simms."
"Simms here, sir."
"Delta, sound general quarters and prepare for emergency departure stations. Have Vashtee signal the Sequoia to do likewise and to form up on us. We've got a runaway starliner to catch!"
"Aye, sir," came Simms startled reply. "How shall we set our course?"
Akinola thought for a moment. "Make it 240 mark 22, and take us to maximum warp once we clear the outer markers. I'm on my way to the bridge right now."
Akinola and T'Ser hurried from the wardroom. T'Ser's breakfast tray remained on the table, untouched and forgotten. The sound of Delta Simms' voice suddenly filled the ship and red lights began to pulse rythmically.
"All hands, all hands, general quarters, general quarters. Report to your duty stations for immediate departure. This is not a drill. Repeat - this is not a drill. All hands, all hands . . ."
Akinola and T'Ser entered the turbo-lift which began its quick ascent to the bridge.
"Captain," began T'Ser, "If we can't stop the Queen Elizabeth in time . . .?"
"Then," replied Akinola in a heavy tone, "the moment the QE enters the Brez-krill system, we will be at war with the Tzen-Kethi."
* * *
Oh hell no!!
I'll bet every ship in the region just went to red alert.
Frak!!!
Nice work. I can't wait for crap to hit the fan on this one.
And a bad situation is about to get worse...
I'm wondering if the Neo-Maquis are going to present Starfleet with what amounts to be a rather nasty Hobson's Choice here...
I'm wondering if the Neo-Maquis are going to present Starfleet with what amounts to be a rather nasty Hobson's Choice here...
Chapter Seven
Stardate 54245.2 (1 April 2377)
USS Sequoia
Star Station Echo - Berth Five
Captain D'Angelo affixed his thumbprint to the final PADD on his desk and set it aside, pleased to have completed the last of the requisition forms for the station quartermaster.
He turned to his computer terminal, preparing to begin a log entry, but paused before speaking. He turned in his desk chair and looked out the ready room's starboard viewport, which afforded him a view of the Bluefin.
The young Captain reflected on his dinner meeting with Captain Akinola the previous evening. He was surprised to admit to himself that he had enjoyed the visit. Akinola had proved to be a gracious host, giving him a tour of the vintage cutter. D'Angelo had been surprised at how cramped the Albacore-class cutter had seemed, compared to the Sequoia. Though the Bluefin was a larger vessel, it seemed that every square inch was utilized.
"They didn't build in much space for recreation or gathering," Akinola had remarked when D'Angelo had asked about Bluefin's design. "We have to learn to work together in close quarters. Good relationships are crucial."
D'Angelo had puzzled over that remark, and over Akinola's easy rapport with his crew. Tyre had been surprised that Akinola seemed to know everyone on the cutter by first name, often pausing to ask a seemingly pointless question about personal matters or to laugh at a joke. The old Captain even mingled well with the enlisted crew!
The Sequoia's C.O. shook his head in consternation. Akinola's command style was 180 degrees different from his own, yet Akinola's ship and crew were practically legendary in the Border Service. He had initially thought that Commander Galvani's glowing praise of "The Old Man" as she called him, had been exagerated. Now, he wasn't so sure.
His own philosophy of command had been one of maintaining rigid discipline, tight regimens, and a distrust of close relationships with the crew. It had worked well for him as a junior officer, department head, even as a first officer. Now as a commanding officer . . .
His reverie was interrupted by the chime from his terminal. He tapped the reply stud.
"Go ahead," he said.
"Lt. Lamonica, sir. We've just received a priority message from Captain Akinola requesting our immediate departure. Apparently a starliner is off-course and incommunicado."
D'Angelo frowned. "Anything else?"
"That's all for now. He said he'd pass along the details to you once we're underway."
The Captain stood. "Sound general quarters, Lieutenant. I want us underway in ten minutes!"
* * *
Stardate 54245.3 (1 April 2377)
USS Sequoia
Sector 04339 - Warp 9.9
"So, Captain - what's this all about?" asked D'Angelo as he stared at the image of Captain Akinola on his terminal.
The white-haired Nigerian Captain's expression was grim. "The Queen Elizabeth VII has deviated from her charted course to Vega and is heading toward the Brez-krill system at warp 9. At her current speed, she'll get there within two days."
D'Angelo was still puzzled. "Forgive me, but I still don't understand the extreme urgency. That liner is obviously operational to travel at that speed. It seems like a simple enough matter to intercept them and find out why they're off course."
"Sorry, D'Angelo, I keep forgetting you're new to this region of space. The major issue is where they're headed. The Brez-krill system is part of the Tzen-Kethi Autarchy. While the system is not technically in Tzen-Kethi space, it was granted to them as part of the armistice agreement over two decades ago."
D'Angelo grimaced. "And the Tzen-Kethi view any violation of their sovereign territory as an act of war - regardless of the circumstances."
Akinola nodded. "Exactly. This is complicated by the fact we don't know why the QE is headed that way. Best guess is that it's intentional, but the who or why is unknown. There are over 2800 beings on that ship, D'Angelo. Our job is to make sure they're safe, but . . ." The older Captain hesitated, "we cannot allow the QE to violate Tzen-Kethi space."
D'Angelo's mouth went dry as he considered the ramifications of Akinola's words. "How do we stop them, Captain?"
"Short answer? I have no idea yet. The best case scenario is they change course or stop of their own accord."
"And the worst-case scenario?"
Akinola's face seemed to visibly age on the viewscreen. "I don't think I have to explain that to you, Captain. I do need you to do something now, though."
"What's that?"
"Your ship is faster than Bluefin. You can catch up with them in twelve hours. It will take us more than fourteen. Continue ahead at maximum warp - when you get within range, try to communicate with them - find out what the hell is going on. You'll be on your own until we arrive."
"You can count on us, Captain," said D'Angelo.
Akinola gave the young Captain a piercing look. "I am counting on you. Bluefin, out."
* * *
Stardate 54245.3 (1 April 2377)
Tzen-Kethi Patrol Frigate Blood Claw
Coreward perimeter, Brez-Krill System
The Blood Claw moved silently through the darkness of the Brez-Krill perimeter, far from the warmth and light of the central star. The dark red ship was a surreal study in angles and curves, mixed with solemn shadows. Only a few glowing viewports gave evidence to the living, breathing crew of aggressive Felinoids that inhabited the vessel. The sublight engines glowed a brilliant orange, adding an almost cheerful splash of light and color to the otherwise sinister vessel.
Chuft-Captain Gravaz g'Rivenn strode through the dimly lit corridors toward the control den. His green eyes glowed in the semi-darkness and his robe swished in rythm with his steps.
Underlings scurried out of his way, lest they incur his notice (usually sufficient for a hard cuff to the ears) or his wrath (which generally meant death to the unfortunate one.)
At nearly three meters in height, Gravas g'Rivenn was what Humans would call an "alpha-male." His size, strength, and cunning were greater than the norm, even for the war-like Tzen-Kethi. He was a handsome specimen for his species - his thick fur was burnt orange, highlighted by occassional stripes of black and silver. His long fangs were bejeweled as fitting his rank and his left ear was notched in the manner of his sire-clan.
Upon entering the control den, the crew averted their eyes, with the exception of the Chuft-Captain's first officer and mate, Hras-Commander Klinjah kurr Gravas. Her ears flattened to her head and she greeted him with a ritual hiss.
g'Rivenn responded with a low growl, then took his seat. No one rose to vacate the command chair. For anyone other than the Chuft-Captain to sit there would invite death by disembowelment.
"Why have you summoned me, Hras-Commander?" he asked in his rumbling voice. His tone was neutral but there always existed a hint of violence when he spoke.
His mate/ first officer bowed her head slightly. "I apologize for disturbing the Chuft-Captain, but we have picked up a ship on long-range scanners. On it's current heading and speed, it will enter our space within two demi-cycles."
g'Rivenn's eyes narrowed and his snout drew up in a feral snarl. "A warship?"
The Hras-Commander looked left in a negative gesture. "No, honored one. It appears to be a transport of some kind. Very large and moving at high warp speed. It does not fit the design of any known warships of Federation or Klingon design."
The Chuft-Captain extended a razor-sharp claw and absently pulled at a whisker. "Regardless, we will be ready when it arrives. Klinja - notify Central Command - as soon as this vessel crosses into our space, we will engage and destroy it."
* * *
Stardate 54245.3 (1 April 2377)
SS Queen Elizabeth VII
Sector 04340 - Warp 9
Captain Lumford chuckled quietly to himself and shook his head as he sat helplessly on the bridge.
"Do you find the situation amusing?" asked Kendra.
Lumford turned his gaze upon the Bajoran. "Amusing? No. Ridiculous? Most certainly!"
Kendra's lips turned up in a slight smile. "How so, Captain?"
The Captain snorted derisively. "For God's sake, man! There are over 2800 people on this ship - a thousand in the crew alone. Do you really expect to keep all of those people contained with your little group of pirates? Sooner or later, you people will be overwhelmed by sheer numbers!"
Kenrdra's smile broadened and he turned to face his cohort, Mr. Warren. "Why don't you tell our dear Captain about our contingency plan, Mr. Warren?"
"Certainly!" replied the Neo-Maquis operative with enthusiasm. He walked over to his former Captain and leaned in with a menacing leer.
"You might be surprised to know, Captain, that we considered many factors in planning this operation - including how to manage nearly 3000 people." He produced a small PADD from his coat pocket. "It's quite simple, really. We over-rode the controls to the emergency bulkheads. Even now, the passengers and crew are confined within small, manageable sections of the ship - no more than 100 per group. They have access to replicators and waste facilities and, of course, breathable atmosphere. However . . ." He held the PADD before the Captain's now sweating face, "any sort of rebellion can be handled quite easily. All I have to do is tap this control twice and . . . pffftt!" Any one of those areas can be decompressed in thirty seconds."
Captain Lumford glared at his former second officer with a look of sheer hatred. "You cold bastards! What kind of people are you!" he demanded, his voice dripping with contempt. "Why are you doing this to innocent people?"
"We are determined people, Captain," replied Kendra, coldly, as Warren pocketed the PADD. "And innocence is a relative term, isn't it. Perhaps if the Federation had given more attention to the innocent people who were butchered by the Cardassians, we wouldn't be in this quandary right now!" The Bajoran's words built in volume and intensity as raw emotion threatened to overwhelm him. Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on Lumford's cheek.
Kendra rose suddenly and took a calming breath.
"Don't speak again of innocent people, Captain Lumford." He shook his head bitterly. "There are no innocents - not any more."
* * *
Stardate 54245.2 (1 April 2377)
USS Sequoia
Star Station Echo - Berth Five
Captain D'Angelo affixed his thumbprint to the final PADD on his desk and set it aside, pleased to have completed the last of the requisition forms for the station quartermaster.
He turned to his computer terminal, preparing to begin a log entry, but paused before speaking. He turned in his desk chair and looked out the ready room's starboard viewport, which afforded him a view of the Bluefin.
The young Captain reflected on his dinner meeting with Captain Akinola the previous evening. He was surprised to admit to himself that he had enjoyed the visit. Akinola had proved to be a gracious host, giving him a tour of the vintage cutter. D'Angelo had been surprised at how cramped the Albacore-class cutter had seemed, compared to the Sequoia. Though the Bluefin was a larger vessel, it seemed that every square inch was utilized.
"They didn't build in much space for recreation or gathering," Akinola had remarked when D'Angelo had asked about Bluefin's design. "We have to learn to work together in close quarters. Good relationships are crucial."
D'Angelo had puzzled over that remark, and over Akinola's easy rapport with his crew. Tyre had been surprised that Akinola seemed to know everyone on the cutter by first name, often pausing to ask a seemingly pointless question about personal matters or to laugh at a joke. The old Captain even mingled well with the enlisted crew!
The Sequoia's C.O. shook his head in consternation. Akinola's command style was 180 degrees different from his own, yet Akinola's ship and crew were practically legendary in the Border Service. He had initially thought that Commander Galvani's glowing praise of "The Old Man" as she called him, had been exagerated. Now, he wasn't so sure.
His own philosophy of command had been one of maintaining rigid discipline, tight regimens, and a distrust of close relationships with the crew. It had worked well for him as a junior officer, department head, even as a first officer. Now as a commanding officer . . .
His reverie was interrupted by the chime from his terminal. He tapped the reply stud.
"Go ahead," he said.
"Lt. Lamonica, sir. We've just received a priority message from Captain Akinola requesting our immediate departure. Apparently a starliner is off-course and incommunicado."
D'Angelo frowned. "Anything else?"
"That's all for now. He said he'd pass along the details to you once we're underway."
The Captain stood. "Sound general quarters, Lieutenant. I want us underway in ten minutes!"
* * *
Stardate 54245.3 (1 April 2377)
USS Sequoia
Sector 04339 - Warp 9.9
"So, Captain - what's this all about?" asked D'Angelo as he stared at the image of Captain Akinola on his terminal.
The white-haired Nigerian Captain's expression was grim. "The Queen Elizabeth VII has deviated from her charted course to Vega and is heading toward the Brez-krill system at warp 9. At her current speed, she'll get there within two days."
D'Angelo was still puzzled. "Forgive me, but I still don't understand the extreme urgency. That liner is obviously operational to travel at that speed. It seems like a simple enough matter to intercept them and find out why they're off course."
"Sorry, D'Angelo, I keep forgetting you're new to this region of space. The major issue is where they're headed. The Brez-krill system is part of the Tzen-Kethi Autarchy. While the system is not technically in Tzen-Kethi space, it was granted to them as part of the armistice agreement over two decades ago."
D'Angelo grimaced. "And the Tzen-Kethi view any violation of their sovereign territory as an act of war - regardless of the circumstances."
Akinola nodded. "Exactly. This is complicated by the fact we don't know why the QE is headed that way. Best guess is that it's intentional, but the who or why is unknown. There are over 2800 beings on that ship, D'Angelo. Our job is to make sure they're safe, but . . ." The older Captain hesitated, "we cannot allow the QE to violate Tzen-Kethi space."
D'Angelo's mouth went dry as he considered the ramifications of Akinola's words. "How do we stop them, Captain?"
"Short answer? I have no idea yet. The best case scenario is they change course or stop of their own accord."
"And the worst-case scenario?"
Akinola's face seemed to visibly age on the viewscreen. "I don't think I have to explain that to you, Captain. I do need you to do something now, though."
"What's that?"
"Your ship is faster than Bluefin. You can catch up with them in twelve hours. It will take us more than fourteen. Continue ahead at maximum warp - when you get within range, try to communicate with them - find out what the hell is going on. You'll be on your own until we arrive."
"You can count on us, Captain," said D'Angelo.
Akinola gave the young Captain a piercing look. "I am counting on you. Bluefin, out."
* * *
Stardate 54245.3 (1 April 2377)
Tzen-Kethi Patrol Frigate Blood Claw
Coreward perimeter, Brez-Krill System
The Blood Claw moved silently through the darkness of the Brez-Krill perimeter, far from the warmth and light of the central star. The dark red ship was a surreal study in angles and curves, mixed with solemn shadows. Only a few glowing viewports gave evidence to the living, breathing crew of aggressive Felinoids that inhabited the vessel. The sublight engines glowed a brilliant orange, adding an almost cheerful splash of light and color to the otherwise sinister vessel.
Chuft-Captain Gravaz g'Rivenn strode through the dimly lit corridors toward the control den. His green eyes glowed in the semi-darkness and his robe swished in rythm with his steps.
Underlings scurried out of his way, lest they incur his notice (usually sufficient for a hard cuff to the ears) or his wrath (which generally meant death to the unfortunate one.)
At nearly three meters in height, Gravas g'Rivenn was what Humans would call an "alpha-male." His size, strength, and cunning were greater than the norm, even for the war-like Tzen-Kethi. He was a handsome specimen for his species - his thick fur was burnt orange, highlighted by occassional stripes of black and silver. His long fangs were bejeweled as fitting his rank and his left ear was notched in the manner of his sire-clan.
Upon entering the control den, the crew averted their eyes, with the exception of the Chuft-Captain's first officer and mate, Hras-Commander Klinjah kurr Gravas. Her ears flattened to her head and she greeted him with a ritual hiss.
g'Rivenn responded with a low growl, then took his seat. No one rose to vacate the command chair. For anyone other than the Chuft-Captain to sit there would invite death by disembowelment.
"Why have you summoned me, Hras-Commander?" he asked in his rumbling voice. His tone was neutral but there always existed a hint of violence when he spoke.
His mate/ first officer bowed her head slightly. "I apologize for disturbing the Chuft-Captain, but we have picked up a ship on long-range scanners. On it's current heading and speed, it will enter our space within two demi-cycles."
g'Rivenn's eyes narrowed and his snout drew up in a feral snarl. "A warship?"
The Hras-Commander looked left in a negative gesture. "No, honored one. It appears to be a transport of some kind. Very large and moving at high warp speed. It does not fit the design of any known warships of Federation or Klingon design."
The Chuft-Captain extended a razor-sharp claw and absently pulled at a whisker. "Regardless, we will be ready when it arrives. Klinja - notify Central Command - as soon as this vessel crosses into our space, we will engage and destroy it."
* * *
Stardate 54245.3 (1 April 2377)
SS Queen Elizabeth VII
Sector 04340 - Warp 9
Captain Lumford chuckled quietly to himself and shook his head as he sat helplessly on the bridge.
"Do you find the situation amusing?" asked Kendra.
Lumford turned his gaze upon the Bajoran. "Amusing? No. Ridiculous? Most certainly!"
Kendra's lips turned up in a slight smile. "How so, Captain?"
The Captain snorted derisively. "For God's sake, man! There are over 2800 people on this ship - a thousand in the crew alone. Do you really expect to keep all of those people contained with your little group of pirates? Sooner or later, you people will be overwhelmed by sheer numbers!"
Kenrdra's smile broadened and he turned to face his cohort, Mr. Warren. "Why don't you tell our dear Captain about our contingency plan, Mr. Warren?"
"Certainly!" replied the Neo-Maquis operative with enthusiasm. He walked over to his former Captain and leaned in with a menacing leer.
"You might be surprised to know, Captain, that we considered many factors in planning this operation - including how to manage nearly 3000 people." He produced a small PADD from his coat pocket. "It's quite simple, really. We over-rode the controls to the emergency bulkheads. Even now, the passengers and crew are confined within small, manageable sections of the ship - no more than 100 per group. They have access to replicators and waste facilities and, of course, breathable atmosphere. However . . ." He held the PADD before the Captain's now sweating face, "any sort of rebellion can be handled quite easily. All I have to do is tap this control twice and . . . pffftt!" Any one of those areas can be decompressed in thirty seconds."
Captain Lumford glared at his former second officer with a look of sheer hatred. "You cold bastards! What kind of people are you!" he demanded, his voice dripping with contempt. "Why are you doing this to innocent people?"
"We are determined people, Captain," replied Kendra, coldly, as Warren pocketed the PADD. "And innocence is a relative term, isn't it. Perhaps if the Federation had given more attention to the innocent people who were butchered by the Cardassians, we wouldn't be in this quandary right now!" The Bajoran's words built in volume and intensity as raw emotion threatened to overwhelm him. Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on Lumford's cheek.
Kendra rose suddenly and took a calming breath.
"Don't speak again of innocent people, Captain Lumford." He shook his head bitterly. "There are no innocents - not any more."
* * *
There seems to be some hope for D'Angelo--he's not going to be Akinola Mk. 2.0, nor should he be, but at least he seems open to the notion that he might need to rethink some of his methods. And now, he's going to be thrown into the deep end--figuratively and literally.
sorry about my last post-stupid computer jumped 2 chapters and I didn't catch it. Anyway-like the tension you've got going. I could "hear" Akinola talking to Captain Prim and Prissy, your dialogue was that real. I'm still trying to figure the Maquis angle, though. War with the cats hurts everyone-so why force it?
Very nice, showing all angles.
Just a couple of minor points, rhythm is spelled with an "h" after the "r" and Tzenkethi is usually one word, what made you hyphenise it?
Just a couple of minor points, rhythm is spelled with an "h" after the "r" and Tzenkethi is usually one word, what made you hyphenise it?
It's a Border Service thing.
Actually, I don't really know why I added the hyphen. I guess I'll continue for this story to remain consistent.
Awesome development here. We all know that Akinola is going to keep his cool, but what about D'Angelo? And Starfleet will want to have a word on this situation too, I'm sure.
A lot can happen here which leads me to believe that a lot will happen.
Very fine writing and I'm looking forward to this powder keg explode.
A lot can happen here which leads me to believe that a lot will happen.
Very fine writing and I'm looking forward to this powder keg explode.
Similar threads
