Tales of the USS Bluefin - 9: "Ghost in the Machine"

[Nerys Ghemor]

RRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrr...

Oh well...I guess the fact that she's an ROTC grad (I'm assuming) and didn't feel like the Academy was the ONLY way to become an officer--and that she takes pride in her state--is as good as it's going to get. She gets credit for that at least.

 

[Mistral]

Once again, you weave an intricate story out of very "small" things. Well done, indeed.

 

[Maxillius]

a friendly bump and a request to get on with it

 

[mirandafave]

Getting caught up. Terrific stuff rally gut wrenching for all involved. Who are these mystery aliens and what danger did they / do they pose to the Borg andf perhaps others???

 

[Dnoth]

Getting caught up with other UT works, and this has prompted many questions in my head. If the 'spirits' of Akinola's family is trapped, how'd it happen?

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

First, my apologies for the delay in posting a new chapter. I have numerous excuses - busy time at work, the holidays, etc.

The truth is, I've hit a wall with this story.

I pretty much had the whole thing finished, at least in rough form. I could have polished it up and knocked it out in a week without too much trouble.

The problem was, I hated it.

So, I backed off, hoping a break would give me some fresh ideas. In fact, I did consider an entirely different ending to my original plan and began to work in that direction.

Unfortunately, I created so many implausibly tortured twists in the plot that I began to develop vertigo. So much for "Plan B."

Now, I'm out of excuses and out of ideas. The muse has left the building and didn't leave a forwarding address.

I am determined, however, not to let this story become a forgotten orphan. Somehow, I will finish it. I may not be overly happy with it, but this has become personal - me versus the "Ghost in the Machine."

I ain't 'fraid of no ghosts!

Oh, and if anyone happens to find my muse, please e-mail it back to me. I've really missed it.

To be continued . . .

 

[Nerys Ghemor]

I'm very sorry to hear that. You really had a great story going, and I'm sure there's got to be some way to bring it to a satisfying close.

Maybe it needs fresh blood? Maybe there's a UT author willing to work in some sort of crossover with you?

I would volunteer, except for the blatant continuity problems between my universe and yours, and the fact that I'm actually writing THREE stories simultaneously while working full time. (2 Sigils and Unions, and my perennial original novel. )

 

[Gibraltar]

Sorry to hear that. I know the wall well. It is unyielding and oh-so-very-not-fun.

Sometimes a story just has to sit until either it or you are ready to pick up the narrative thread again.

 

[DavidFalkayn]

I can so relate right now--I've had to junk about five pages of the next part I'd written because it just didn't work--so--it's back to square one. I hope otherwise the weekend is being good to you. We went over to my sister's house for the annual Thanksgiving family gorging this year--my other sister has Christmas and we have New Years this go round. This time of year always seems to be rough with writing and real life for a lot of us. Very often a break can do a world of good--it gives you time to recharge your batteries. So...spend some time with the family and enjoy the crisp air and I have a feeling your muse will show up soon enough.

 

[CeJay]

Yeah, I'm feeling you on this one too.

I've been having a bit of a problem myself recently and ironically it has all to do with the characters I've borrowed from you. In fact I was so anxious about writing an upcoming segment that I kept putting it off, worried that it was going to feel inappropriate. I thought long and hard about throwing the entire segment out and going into a different direction until I finally told myself: "What the hell. What's the worst TLR could do to me?"

Here's too your muse returning to you soon. You have a lot of fans out here eagerly anticipating the conclusion of the thrill ride.

 

[Mistral]

Could I offer you a beer?

Hope you get back on track soon-really like what you've got here.

 

[Dnoth]

I just hate it when you have what seems like a really good idea, but there is really no way to realistically get from A to C. I just might see that wall again real soon.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Chapter Sixteen

Stardate - Unknown
SS Eku
Sector - Unknown

Lt. Commander Simms looked through the steam from her coffee mug to see a dejected-looking SCPO Brin trudge into the Eku's galley. She felt an empathetic twinge of sadness for the big Orion non-com. Solly might be a fearsome physical specimen, but she knew well-enough he was out of his element when it came to matters of the heart.

"Coffee, Senior?" she asked and pulled out a chair for Brin. Solly shook his head.

"No ma'am, thanks. I just needed to stretch my legs a bit. I get restless when there's nothing to do."

In a pig's eye, she thought. "Does Lt. Rune still have a solid reading on the Skipper?" she asked aloud.

"Oh yes, the Lieutenant has everything under control." Solly almost covered the edge of bitterness in his voice. Almost.

Simms placed her coffee mug on the table and stood. "Walk with me, Senior Chief. Doc, why don't you see if there's some milk in the stasis box for the kitty?"

Castille looked at Mr. Fluff, who regarded him in turn with inscrutible green eyes. "Come on, cat. Look's like it's just you and me."

* * *

Simms walked with Solly a short distance down the corridor before stopping and facing him.

"Okay, Solly, what's wrong?"

He averted his gaze. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Bull," she said. Her voice was soft, but Solly winced slightly. She sighed.

"Look . . . Solly, I'm not going to pry into your personal life, but let me give you some advice . . . as a friend, okay?"

Solly nodded but kept his eyes averted.

"Give K'lira some time. She's carryin' more than her share of emotional baggage and a 50 kilo chip on her shoulder. I'm sure she'll loosen up once she feels accepted again."

Brin snorted. "I hope you're right, Commander."

"'Course, I'm right! Tell you what, I'll go talk to K'lira while we wait on the Skipper. Why don't you go keep Doc and the cat company."

A small smile formed on Solly's face. "I'm not much at small talk."

"Neither is Doc. 'Cept when he's talking to coffee makers."

Solly's brow knit in puzzlement. "Ma'am?"

Simms smiled. "Never mind, Senior. I'm gonna put on my counselor hat and head to the bridge. Oh, and be sure you don't hurt the cat!"

* * *

Akinola watched as the image of his mother morphed into the image of an Andorian woman, wearing an out-of-date Border Service uniform. The rank of captain adorned her shoulder flash.

"Captain Shartuurn, I presume?" Akinola asked, dryly. He was beginning to grow accustomed to the frequent twists and turns he was experiencing with these . . .

What? . . . Ghosts? Bio-electric manifestations? Non-corporeal entities? He didn't pretend to know or understand. Not that it really mattered. What mattered was they were somehow trying to help him and his crew get home. But he wanted some answers first.

The sharp featured Andorian nodded curtly. "We have little time, Captain Akinola, so I will be concise. We assimilated the V'Griid after a brief battle. Their technology did not prove to be of interest, but we readily assimilated 500 survivors. Our initial scans showed them to be carbon-based quadrapeds, similar to other species previously integrated into the collective. Our scans failed to reveal that the V'Griid were, in fact, hosts to symbiotic creatures."

"Like the Trill?" asked Akinola.

The image of Captain Shartuurn shook her head. "No. The symbiots did not have a physical form. They existed in a non-corporeal state, siphoning off miniscule amounts of bio-electric energy from the host V'Griid. Shortly after we assimilated the V'Griid, the symbiots . . . retaliated."

Akinola listened in fascination as the Andorian spectre described how these non-corporeal beings attacked the Borg systems, turning the local collective against itself. The symbiots acted much like a self-replicating computer virus, breaking down the Borg defenses and cutting them off from the greater collective.

"We once more became self-aware . . . as the symbiots continued their onslaught. We likely would all have perished, except the V'Griid drones were able to communicate with their former symbiots. But the damage to the cubes was irreparable. Although we were now free from the collective, we could no longer regenerate. Our physical bodies began to deteriorate as the cybernetic appliances began to fail. Yet our conscious selves continued on somehow, perhaps because of the symbiots. For us, it was a small price to regain our freedom and dignity."

Akinola frowned. "That doesn't explain why you sent the ships back to the Alpha quadrant. Or why you brought us here."

FLASH

Joseph Akinola was once more aboard the Eku, in his old quarters. The image of his father, Samuel, stood before him, a crooked smile on his face.

"There are worse things than death, son," said the spectre of the elder Akinola. "You can't imagine the relief we experienced to once more control our thoughts, our will. To know it would cost our lives was a small price to pay."

Samuel Akinola pulled up a chair and turned it around before sitting astride it. Joseph remembered how his father had always done so before having a "man-to-man" talk. The memory caused his heart to ache.

"But we also wanted our families to know our fate. There was a great sense of shared sadness among us. Even though the collective no longer held us, we still shared our thoughts and feelings. Because of that, we learned you were in the Border Service - because of our link with the crew members of the Finback. It was a long-shot, but we hoped that sending the Eku and the other ships back would pique someone's curiosity. We . . . that is, I am pleased that you are the one who came."

Joseph sat on the edge of his bunk, silently for several moments. "There's so much I want to say," he began, "so much I need to ask . . ."

The elder Akinola shook his head, sadly. "As much as I wish we could continue, there is simply not enough time. Even now, our energy is fading. We must regroup for a time and rest. Then, we will return a final time to you and tell you what must be done . . ."

Joseph reached out his hand, "Wait, Father . . ."

But Samuel Akinola was gone.

* * *
"How's it going, Lieutenant?"

K'lira Rune jerked her head up from her tricorder, startled by the arrival of Commander Simms on the bridge.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Commander - I didn't hear you come up the ladder. You must be part slinjaki."

Simms lifted an eyebrow. "Slin - what?"

Rune smiled and turned her attention back to the tricorder. "Slinjaki - they're out of Orion mythology. Kind of like your Terran demons . . . or ghosts."

"I'd say we have more than enough ghosts at the moment," Simms remarked as she glanced around the small flight deck. "Any change on the Captain's status?"

Rune shook her head. "His life signs are strong. I guess that means he's okay . . ."

Simms checked the bulkhead chronometer and frowned. "He's been gone nearly an hour . . ." she left the rest of her thought unspoken and forced a smile back on her face. "I guess you didn't expect to jump back in like this, did you?"

The Orion woman tucked a strand of green-black hair behind her ear and shrugged. "No ma'am, I suppose not."

"Can I ask you something?"

K'lira cut her eyes toward the auburn-haired commander. "You're my superior officer, you can ask what you want."

Simms ignored the dig, remembering how they once held equal rank. "Why did you come back to the Bluefin, K'lira?"

Rune's eyes flashed, but she refrained from lashing out with a sarcastic reply. She gazed at Simms for several moments. "What do you care?" she asked, guardedly.

Delta took the other vacant seat and leaned forward with her elbows resting on her thighs, hands steepled in front of her mouth as she gazed into the Orion's eyes.

"We were friends before," replied Simms, "and I'm hoping we can still be friends. So, I'm asking because I'm concerned about you."

Lt. Rune again averted her gaze. She was silent for a moment before nodding to herself.

"I guess I needed to prove to myself that I still have value - to the service, to my old crew . . ." she paused, hesitating.

"To your near-father?" Simms asked, gently.

Rune said nothing for a long moment. Then, "Yeah. To the old hard-hearted slis'pul, too."

"Hard-headed, yeah. But as to his heart, not so much," said Delta.

Before Lt. Rune could reply, Captain Akinola suddenly appeared out of thin air and collapsed onto the deck.

* * *

 

[Mistral]

Alright, now we're talking! That's just what we needed-and an interesting sort-of explanation for what's going on!

 

[mirandafave]

Back with a flash! Interesting segment with an explanation that seems to so far explain things. But what to do about it all?

 

[Nerys Ghemor]

Whoa! That is not the explanation I was expecting, but it was REALLY neat. I would've never thought to put noncorporeal creatures in that sort of relationship with corporeal beings without it being destructive. Very creative!

And poor Akinola--this just gets more and more heartwrenching for him! Somehow I think he's going to be the one to have to give his parents their final rest.

 

[CeJay]

This story could have been titled Family Reunions.

The V'Griid sound fascinating and not just because they bested the Borg.

And I love that in the midst of all this there is still time for a couple of chats to try and mend some broken hearts. You gotta love the Orion family drama here.

Well worth the wait, this was.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Chapter Seventeen

Stardate 54260.1 (16 April 2377)
USS Finback
Sector 04341 – Near the Lesser Riven nebula

The away team from the Scamp materialized on the bridge of the Finback without incident. Once again, Captain Rodenko experienced something akin to deja vous as he looked at the setting which was both familiar, yet profoundly disturbing.

"Commander Slevon, please take Chief Fujita with you to engineering and see if you can continue restoring the ship's systems. Lt. Bin Salaam, you will remain on the bridge with me. I want to access all of the ship's logs as quickly as possible."

As Slevon and Fujita headed to the turbo lift, Rodenko added: "I need not remind you that we may have to depart quickly. At the first indication of tri-quantum waves, you are to beam back to Scamp. You are not to wait for any order from me, understood?"

The Vulcan Chief Engineer inclined his head. "Perfectly, Captain. I shall keep you apprised of our progress."

Rodenko nodded, still caught between restlessness and distraction. "Da, good. Carry on, Commander."

The Russian cutter skipper joined Bin Salaam at the operations station. The Lieutenant's hands hovered over the old-style control configuration as he familiarized himself with the layout. Rodenko pointed to a small alpha-numeric keypad.

"I believe this is what you are seeking, Lieutenant," Rodenko said, concealing his impatience.

Bin Salaam nodded and smiled nervously. "Yes sir - thank you." With that, the young officer entered the command over-ride code they had received from Star Fleet Archives.

"Command over-ride accepted," said the Finback's computer. "Awaiting instructions."

Rodenko placed his hands on the console and leaned forward. "Computer, replay last log entry of Capatin Shartuurn."

"Acknowledged, commencing playback."

A round viewscreen at the Ops station came to life, revealing the severe features of Captain G'lil Shartuurn, C.O. of the Finback and Rodenko's former Skipper. The dour Andorian woman was seated primly in her ready room, her back ram-rod straight and her hands clasped loosely on the desk.

"Captain's log, Stardate 26450 point 6. Captain G'lil Shartuurn, recording.

I have ordered a course change to investigate an unsual energy surge near the Lesser Riven Nebula. I have enformed Echo base of our intentions and we are currently en route at warp factor six with an ETA of two hours, fifty minutes.

Lt. Bruenner reports that the energy readings are approaching 500 teracochranes in intensity, suggesting this is not a natural phenomenon. Though our sensor capabilities are limited compared to a science vessel, we will record the event and submit our report at a later time."

The recording ended, causing Rodenko to frown in consternation.

"She sounds more like a Vulcan that an Andorian," mused Bin Salaam, earning a sharp look from Rodenko.

"She was a fine Captain and ran a tight ship, Lieutenant. I would not have you mock her memory!"

Bin Salaam's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, sir - I meant no disrespect."

Rodenko sighed and clasped the young officer's shoulder. "Of course you didn't, Ali. Forgive my testiness . . . I'm frustrated that we have so few answers."

"Yes sir. Perhaps we would learn more by replaying the bridge recordings?"

Rodenko smiled. "Good thinking, Lieutenant! Begin with time index 26450 point six-oh. Put it on the main viewer on quick-scan mode."

Boris settled into the command chair as Bin Salaam set up the playback from the bridge scanners. Momentarily, they were seeing the bridge of the Scamp from a scanner located near the ceiling, on the aft port side. This afforded them a bird's eye view of the bridge crew and the main view screen. In the quick-scan mode, the crew scurried around with exaggerated speed. Suddenly, the contact indicator light on the helm console began to strobe.

"Stop there, Lieutenant. Back it up a couple of minutes and resume at normal speed," ordered Rodenko.

The view ran in reverse for a few moments, then resumed at normal speed. Captain Shartuurn was seated in the command chair. A Human female sat at the helm and a Deltan male was at Ops. Boris allowed a wistful smile to play across his face as he recognized the raven-haired woman at the helm.

"Lt. Annette Fourier," he said quietly to himself. "Such a crush I had on you those many years ago . . ."

"Helm, drop us out of warp - make our speed one half impulse. Ops, give me an update on that energy surge," ordered Captain Shartuurn.

A fair-skinned Human male with close-cropped russet hair turned from the Ops board. "Energy levels have dropped to 200 teracochranes and are holding steady."

"That's more output than a dozen Ambassador class ships!" exclaimed an Asian woman seated at tactical. Rodenko remembered her as Lt. Commander Sun Li, the Finback's second officer.

"Noted, Commander," replied Captain Shartuurn, calmly.

The contact indicator on the helm began to flash, instantly elevating the tension level among the bridge crew.

"Contact, bearing 117 mark 6, distance . . . 840 million kilometers and closing." reported the Operations officer.

"Identification, please, Mr. Bruenner," replied the Captain, her voice emanating serenity with a hint of rebuke.

Rodenko and Bin Salaam watched with rapt fascination as the Operations officer checked and re-checked his readings. Bruenner said something unintelligible, obviously profoundly disturbed by the sensor readings.

"Ma'am . . ." he began, "I'm not sure . . . it's definitely not in the database, but it's massive! We should be able to get a visual on it . . ."

"On-screen," ordered Shartuurn.

Rodenko felt a primal chill of goose-flesh rippling down his arms as the viewscreen revealed a cube-shaped object rapidly approaching the Finback.

"Now we know . . ." Rodenko muttered. On the screen, the Finback's bridge crew watched with amazement and awe. Fear and horror were still moments away.

"Open a channel to that vessel, Mr. Bruenner," ordered Captain Shartuurn as she stood from her chair and tugged at her burgundy jacket.

"Hailing frequencies are open, Captain."

"I am Captain G'lil Shartuurn, in command of the Federation vessel, Finback. Please identify yourself and state your intentions."

For a moment, there was no response, save the cube increased in size, filling the viewscreen as it closed on the cutter.

The Andorian Captain crossed her arms, clearly perturbed. She was about to repeat her hail when a harsh chorus of voices replied . . .

"We are the Borg. Resistance is futile . . ."

Rodenko and Bin Salaam watched helplessly for several more minutes as the cube caught the border cutter in a tractor beam. Captain Shartuurn ordered phasers to fire at the Borg cube, but the initial effectiveness of their resistance was soon quashed as the Borg adapted and adjusted to the Finback's limited arsenal. All too soon, they witnessed the horrific sight of Borg drones materializing on the bridge. Though the bridge crew fought valiantly, the struggle was over quickly.

As the viewscreen showed the Borg inserting nano-probes into their victims, Rodenko said quietly, "That's enough, Ali. We've seen all we need here."

* * *

Stardate - Unknown
SS Eku
Sector - Unknown

"Sir? Sir! Are you alright?" Delta Simms raced to Akinola's side as the Captain knelt on the deck, trying to regain his equilibrium.

He took a deep breath, then rose carefully to his feet. "I'm fine, Delta. I'm starting to get the hang of these weird side-trips."

"What happened, sir?"

The smell of coffee tickled the Captain's nose. He suddenly realized he was famished. "Let's go to the galley - I'm starving! I'll fill everyone in there."

* * *

A few minutes later, the three Humans, two Orions, and one overweight feline, gathered around the table in the Eku's galley. Akinola was tearing into a sandwich as he related his contact with the ex-Borg.

"So all of this was just a desperate attempt to share what happened to them?" asked Castille. He shook his head. "Sorry, but I just don't get it."

"Think about it, O.C." replied Delta, "These people have been lost from their loved ones for years - some for decades. They realize their time is short . . . what would you do in the same situtation?"

Castille frowned, "Well, I . . ." he hesitated, "I guess I've never really thought about it."

"That's all they've had time to do, since they regained their free will," pointed out Akinola. "They want to be . . . remembered."

Solly had listened quietly throughtout Akinola's account. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Beggin' your pardon, Skipper, but aren't there like thousands of them? How the frak do we 'remember' all those people? Hell, we don't even know who they are!"

Akinola gestured at the dark metal circle that sat in the center of the table - the Borg appliance.

"Scan that thing with your tri-corder, Delta," he ordered.

Simms raised her eyebrows in surprise, but complied. Her surprised expression turned to wonder.

"It's a data-chip!" she exclaimed. "It lists everyone who was captured by the Borg over the past two centuries, at least on these cubes."

Akinola took the dark metal object from Simms and gazed at it. "If nothing else, we're going to provide closure for a lot of people back home."

"Speaking of home," interrupted Castille, "have they left a chunk of metal anywhere telling us how to get back?"

"No," admitted the Captain. "My understanding is, they needed some time to rest. I think their energy levels are getting pretty low. They said they would communicate with me a final time to tell me what needs to be done to get us back home."

Castille snorted. "This is like some twisted version of Dickens' 'A Christmas Carol,' " he groused.

* * *

Stardate 54260.2 (16 April 2377)
USS Bluefin
Sector 04341 – Near the Lesser Riven nebula

Inga Strauss sat in the command chair, willing herself not to fidget. She watched the warp-tug, USS Scioto, drift languidly by on the main viewer. Captain Phralnis was anxious to tow the Vulcan and Orion ships back to Echo and get back to his normal routine. The fact that Scioto was still on station was probably due to Captain Rodenko exerting his seniority.

And if I'm any judge, I imagine Captain Rodenko was more than a little blunt in his conversation with Captain Phralnis. The thought made Inga smile a little. She had known that the Scamp's C.O. was a close friend of Captain Akinola's, but she had come to appreciate his loyalty and tenacity at finding their missing comrades.

Her smile faded as she considered how helpless they were in making a rescue. For all of their sensor sweeps, multi-spectrum scans, hypotheses and wild guesses, they had no real idea what to do.

At some point, Admiral Bateson will be forced to call off SAR-OPs and we'll have to give up, she thought, morosely. The idea that they might not recover the Captain, Delta, Doc, Solly, or Lt. Rune seemed surreal to her. She could not imagine such a loss. This wasn't like a combat situation where at least you knew people were dying for a cause . . . for all she knew (and hoped) they were alive and well - just out of reach.

Nervous energy forced her to bound to her feet. She walked forward and stood behind the helm station with her arms crossed, glaring at the viewscreen.

Lt. Bralus glanced up at her. He was going to make a comment, but upon seeing her expression, decided that silence was the wiser option.

* * *

 

[mirandafave]

Akinola and the Scamp's Captain are having major memory lane tours. Looks like it might all work out but we must wait until everyone is home and no nasty surprises jump up. The V'Griid do sound like an interesting species and one wonders if there's more to them or more about them in the future.

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Castille snorted. "This is like some twisted version of Dickens' 'A Christmas Carol,' " he groused.

I liked that line! I'm glad to see your muse came back to you--now, would you ask it to please search for mine? I seem to have misplaced it.

Very powerful and very gripping. All these people want is to be remembered--but then, in the end, isn't that all any of us could ask for?