And what a way to get your muse back.
Faaantastic!
now let's keep it coming.
Faaantastic!
now let's keep it coming.
Tales of the USS Bluefin - 9: "Ghost in the Machine"
- Thread starter TheLoneRedshirt
- Start date
Ah, don't you just love those Borg first contact scenarios? They always end the same way, don't they? It makes me wonder how many Borg/Federation first contacts there were before the Enterprise lived to tell about theirs.
We're all resting a little easier at the apparent explanation for Akinola & co's strange trip, knowing that it was not necessarily so much an abduction as a reunion. The same cannot be said for Strauss and Rodenko. Hopefully their torturous ingnorance will not last much longer.
We're all resting a little easier at the apparent explanation for Akinola & co's strange trip, knowing that it was not necessarily so much an abduction as a reunion. The same cannot be said for Strauss and Rodenko. Hopefully their torturous ingnorance will not last much longer.
Way to set the emotional underpinnings of the story! A melancholy reunion for Akinola who must now decide how to memorialize the memories of thousands of former drones, I'm sure that won't be gut wrenching at all. 
Strauss is suddenly thrust into the position of wondering what her life and career will be like in the increasingly likely scenario that Akinola and the others fail to return. I'm betting the big chair has never felt so lonely.
Damn fine work, and I'm happy that you managed to break through 'the wall.'
Strauss is suddenly thrust into the position of wondering what her life and career will be like in the increasingly likely scenario that Akinola and the others fail to return. I'm betting the big chair has never felt so lonely.
Damn fine work, and I'm happy that you managed to break through 'the wall.'
I'm not sure how all-encompassing a "megaditto" is but I'm gonna go with it, too.
Thank you for the kind remarks. I'm not sure that I broke through the wall as much as go around it. Still, it is good to regain some traction and, hopefully, allow me to see this tale through to completion.
On with the story . . .
Chapter Eighteen
Stardate 54260.2 (16 April 2377)
USS Finback
Sector 04341 – Near the Lesser Riven nebula
Captain Rodenko and Lt. Bin Salaam continued to pour over sensor logs, personal logs and other shreds of data. They learned little more, except that the Borg cube pulled the Finback through a warp conduit after the crew was assimilated, confirming what they already suspected about the fate of the ship.
"The power shut down roughly 12 hours after they first encountered the Borg," remarked the Lieutenant. "Apparently, the Borg shut down the core but left the ship intact. I wonder why?"
"Who can say, Mr. Bin Salaam? The Borg seem to have reasons for what they do, but they tend to keep their own counsel. I am more curious as to why the ship shows no passage of the decades since it was taken!"
"I may have an answer for you, Captain," came a familiar voice. Rodenko turned to see Lt. Commander Slevon step onto the bridge from the port ladder access.
"Your timing is impeccable," remarked Rodenko, dryly.
"Thank you. As I was saying, I believe I have an explanation for why the ship has not aged since its disappearance."
Rodenko made a rolling gesture with his hand. "And? . . ."
"I have discovered trace amounts of anti-chroniton particles in the warp core."
Lt. Bin Salaam turned, a puzzled look on his face. "Anti-chroniton particles? But sir, Thalos' corrolary states that such particles cannot exist in normal space!"
Slevon raised a withering eyebrow. "Lieutenant, I believe Dr. Thalos stated that such particles could not be created in normal space, not that they cannot exist."
Rodenko raised his hands. "Gentlemen, please, remember that I am a mere Captain. Could you explain this in layman's terms?"
Slevon inclined his head. "I shall endeavor to do so. You are familiar with chroniton particles?"
Rodenko nodded. "Da, yes, of course. The particles are the residue created from time-travel or by some cloaking devices."
By sheer will-power, Slevon did not wince. "A roughly accurate, if overly simplistic description. In a similar way, anti-chroniton particles give evidence to anomalies in time such as temporal loops or static bubbles."
The Captain nodded. "So you are saying that the Finback was caught in such a temporal loop as Admiral, rather, 'Captain' Bateson and the Bozeman were?"
"In my opinion, a static bubble better fits the hypothesis, Captain, but in essence - yes, the outcome is the same. Time passes in normal space but not within a static bubble."
Rodenko frowned. "I was not aware that the Borg had such capabilities."
"Nor was I, Captain. Certainly, it is not a capability they have revealed in our recent encounters. It is possible that it is related to their transwarp capability, but I cannot be certain without more data."
"Good work, Commander! Do you have anything else to report?"
"Yes sir. We have completed our inspection of engineering and are ready to restore full power at your order."
"Very well. Make it so, Commander." Rodenko stood. "Let's bring the Finback to life."
* * *
Stardate 54260.3 (16 April 2377)
USS Bluefin
Sector 04341 – Near the Lesser Riven nebula
"Hey you."
Strauss jerked upright from her somewhat relaxed position in the command chair. She glanced up to see Nigel Bane standing by her chair, holding a steaming mug of raktajino.
Smiling, she accepted the proffered mug. "Thanks. Since you were nice enough to bring this, I'll spare you the reaming out for startling me out of my daydream."
The Aussie grinned. "Sorry about that. It's time for shift-change. I'm here to relieve you."
She glanced at the chronometer, surprised by the passage of time. She stood and arched her back, trying to regain circulation to her legs.
"I stand relieved, then, Lieutenant. We're still running our grid pattern, but nothing much to report there. Captain Rodenko and some of his crew restored power to the Finback. He also confirmed what we suspected - the ship was originally taken by the Borg."
Bane's smile faltered. "So . . . do you think the Borg took the Captain and the others?" he spoke quietly as other crew members moved about the bridge for the shift change.
"We can't discount the possibility," Strauss grudgingly admitted.
"Inga . . . how much longer do we keep this up? The search, I mean?" asked Bane.
Strauss hesitated. Bane had verbalized the terrible question that nagged her thoughts.
"We'll keep at it Nigel. The answer to that is above our paygrade," she said evasively.
Bane gazed into her eyes. "That's no answer, Inga."
"It's the best I can offer for now," she said, and moved toward the turbo-lift.
* * *
Stardate - Unknown
SS Eku
Sector - Unknown
Akinola held the dark, alien circle of metal before him, as if he could read the data held within.
"Sir?" began Delta, hesitating.
The Captain glanced at the second officer. Delta was gazing at him with her wide-set hazel eyes, an expression of compassionate concern on her face.
"What is it, Commander?"
She glanced at Dr. Castille who cocked his head quizically back at her. Returning her gaze to the Captain, she continued.
"Sir, are you alright? I mean, this has to be difficult for you . . . to find out about your parents like this, I mean."
Akinola smiled wanly. "I appreciate your concern, Commander." He looked around at the others at the table. "To be honest, this hasn't really sunk in with me yet. My main concern is getting us back home, hopefully very soon." He leaned back in his chair, a pensive expression on his face.
"I suppose I should feel shock or horror, but . . ." he paused.
"But?" prodded Solly, who had been mostly silent througout the conversation.
"But," continued Akinola, "I mainly feel relief. For the first time in my life, I actually know what became of my family. Sure, I know that being assimilated by the Borg is a horrible fate - maybe that will sink in later. But now they're free of the collective. And I've had a chance to see my parents again - in a sense. How many people get a chance like that?"
The others were silent as they considered Akinola's words. Castille looked unconvinced, but held his tongue for the moment.
Near the doorway of the galley, a sudden light appeared - glowing softly at first, then coalescing into a more solid outline.
The group watched in fascination as the the glow faded to be replaced by a completely alien creature. The alien stood on four slender legs. It was covered with silky cream colored fur and wore what appeared to be a vest patched together with brightly-colored material. at the end of a long, slender neck was a head reminiscent of a Terran marsupial. Large, brown eyes regarded them with intelligent interest while a small, pink tongue darted occassionally from it's muzzle as if tasting the air. It rared up on its hind legs, balancing easily as it now stood nearly two meters tall. At the end of each fore-leg (fore-arm?) were small three-fingered hands that moved daintily, as if the creature were waving shyly at them.
The creature did not speak, but everyone heard its words projected into their minds.
"Greetings, child of Akinola-et and your kith. Feesh of the V'Griid I am. Our time has come to the closing of the circle, kith-et-sa. All we, V'Griid, Et-kith and Homm prepare now for the final unleashing of our naf-et. Your circle still unfolds Akinola-et, and we bid you fortune and fair season. Attend well! You must complete that which is yet un-held, that we may all be released from the here and the not-now."
Castille ran a hand over his balding pate. "Um, what did he just say?"
The image of the V'Griid suddenly morphed into the form of Sonari Akinola. She appeared as she had the day she placed Joseph and Melody in the escape pod - still young and vibrant.
"The V'Griid said, 'goodbye' and 'it's time to send you home, Doctor.'" she said, smiling. She looked meaningfully at Joseph and her expression became wistful.
"Son, I must ask you to do one final thing, and it will be very hard for you."
* * *
On with the story . . .
Chapter Eighteen
Stardate 54260.2 (16 April 2377)
USS Finback
Sector 04341 – Near the Lesser Riven nebula
Captain Rodenko and Lt. Bin Salaam continued to pour over sensor logs, personal logs and other shreds of data. They learned little more, except that the Borg cube pulled the Finback through a warp conduit after the crew was assimilated, confirming what they already suspected about the fate of the ship.
"The power shut down roughly 12 hours after they first encountered the Borg," remarked the Lieutenant. "Apparently, the Borg shut down the core but left the ship intact. I wonder why?"
"Who can say, Mr. Bin Salaam? The Borg seem to have reasons for what they do, but they tend to keep their own counsel. I am more curious as to why the ship shows no passage of the decades since it was taken!"
"I may have an answer for you, Captain," came a familiar voice. Rodenko turned to see Lt. Commander Slevon step onto the bridge from the port ladder access.
"Your timing is impeccable," remarked Rodenko, dryly.
"Thank you. As I was saying, I believe I have an explanation for why the ship has not aged since its disappearance."
Rodenko made a rolling gesture with his hand. "And? . . ."
"I have discovered trace amounts of anti-chroniton particles in the warp core."
Lt. Bin Salaam turned, a puzzled look on his face. "Anti-chroniton particles? But sir, Thalos' corrolary states that such particles cannot exist in normal space!"
Slevon raised a withering eyebrow. "Lieutenant, I believe Dr. Thalos stated that such particles could not be created in normal space, not that they cannot exist."
Rodenko raised his hands. "Gentlemen, please, remember that I am a mere Captain. Could you explain this in layman's terms?"
Slevon inclined his head. "I shall endeavor to do so. You are familiar with chroniton particles?"
Rodenko nodded. "Da, yes, of course. The particles are the residue created from time-travel or by some cloaking devices."
By sheer will-power, Slevon did not wince. "A roughly accurate, if overly simplistic description. In a similar way, anti-chroniton particles give evidence to anomalies in time such as temporal loops or static bubbles."
The Captain nodded. "So you are saying that the Finback was caught in such a temporal loop as Admiral, rather, 'Captain' Bateson and the Bozeman were?"
"In my opinion, a static bubble better fits the hypothesis, Captain, but in essence - yes, the outcome is the same. Time passes in normal space but not within a static bubble."
Rodenko frowned. "I was not aware that the Borg had such capabilities."
"Nor was I, Captain. Certainly, it is not a capability they have revealed in our recent encounters. It is possible that it is related to their transwarp capability, but I cannot be certain without more data."
"Good work, Commander! Do you have anything else to report?"
"Yes sir. We have completed our inspection of engineering and are ready to restore full power at your order."
"Very well. Make it so, Commander." Rodenko stood. "Let's bring the Finback to life."
* * *
Stardate 54260.3 (16 April 2377)
USS Bluefin
Sector 04341 – Near the Lesser Riven nebula
"Hey you."
Strauss jerked upright from her somewhat relaxed position in the command chair. She glanced up to see Nigel Bane standing by her chair, holding a steaming mug of raktajino.
Smiling, she accepted the proffered mug. "Thanks. Since you were nice enough to bring this, I'll spare you the reaming out for startling me out of my daydream."
The Aussie grinned. "Sorry about that. It's time for shift-change. I'm here to relieve you."
She glanced at the chronometer, surprised by the passage of time. She stood and arched her back, trying to regain circulation to her legs.
"I stand relieved, then, Lieutenant. We're still running our grid pattern, but nothing much to report there. Captain Rodenko and some of his crew restored power to the Finback. He also confirmed what we suspected - the ship was originally taken by the Borg."
Bane's smile faltered. "So . . . do you think the Borg took the Captain and the others?" he spoke quietly as other crew members moved about the bridge for the shift change.
"We can't discount the possibility," Strauss grudgingly admitted.
"Inga . . . how much longer do we keep this up? The search, I mean?" asked Bane.
Strauss hesitated. Bane had verbalized the terrible question that nagged her thoughts.
"We'll keep at it Nigel. The answer to that is above our paygrade," she said evasively.
Bane gazed into her eyes. "That's no answer, Inga."
"It's the best I can offer for now," she said, and moved toward the turbo-lift.
* * *
Stardate - Unknown
SS Eku
Sector - Unknown
Akinola held the dark, alien circle of metal before him, as if he could read the data held within.
"Sir?" began Delta, hesitating.
The Captain glanced at the second officer. Delta was gazing at him with her wide-set hazel eyes, an expression of compassionate concern on her face.
"What is it, Commander?"
She glanced at Dr. Castille who cocked his head quizically back at her. Returning her gaze to the Captain, she continued.
"Sir, are you alright? I mean, this has to be difficult for you . . . to find out about your parents like this, I mean."
Akinola smiled wanly. "I appreciate your concern, Commander." He looked around at the others at the table. "To be honest, this hasn't really sunk in with me yet. My main concern is getting us back home, hopefully very soon." He leaned back in his chair, a pensive expression on his face.
"I suppose I should feel shock or horror, but . . ." he paused.
"But?" prodded Solly, who had been mostly silent througout the conversation.
"But," continued Akinola, "I mainly feel relief. For the first time in my life, I actually know what became of my family. Sure, I know that being assimilated by the Borg is a horrible fate - maybe that will sink in later. But now they're free of the collective. And I've had a chance to see my parents again - in a sense. How many people get a chance like that?"
The others were silent as they considered Akinola's words. Castille looked unconvinced, but held his tongue for the moment.
Near the doorway of the galley, a sudden light appeared - glowing softly at first, then coalescing into a more solid outline.
The group watched in fascination as the the glow faded to be replaced by a completely alien creature. The alien stood on four slender legs. It was covered with silky cream colored fur and wore what appeared to be a vest patched together with brightly-colored material. at the end of a long, slender neck was a head reminiscent of a Terran marsupial. Large, brown eyes regarded them with intelligent interest while a small, pink tongue darted occassionally from it's muzzle as if tasting the air. It rared up on its hind legs, balancing easily as it now stood nearly two meters tall. At the end of each fore-leg (fore-arm?) were small three-fingered hands that moved daintily, as if the creature were waving shyly at them.
The creature did not speak, but everyone heard its words projected into their minds.
"Greetings, child of Akinola-et and your kith. Feesh of the V'Griid I am. Our time has come to the closing of the circle, kith-et-sa. All we, V'Griid, Et-kith and Homm prepare now for the final unleashing of our naf-et. Your circle still unfolds Akinola-et, and we bid you fortune and fair season. Attend well! You must complete that which is yet un-held, that we may all be released from the here and the not-now."
Castille ran a hand over his balding pate. "Um, what did he just say?"
The image of the V'Griid suddenly morphed into the form of Sonari Akinola. She appeared as she had the day she placed Joseph and Melody in the escape pod - still young and vibrant.
"The V'Griid said, 'goodbye' and 'it's time to send you home, Doctor.'" she said, smiling. She looked meaningfully at Joseph and her expression became wistful.
"Son, I must ask you to do one final thing, and it will be very hard for you."
* * *
Coming up with the physics for the story might have caused part of the block! 
Glad you got your degree and carried on.
Kudos on a great alien
and I'd really like to read more about them - whether in this story or future. Not sure if they are good as they appear or perhaps something shifty about them - certainly potential. Either way very interesting.
Interesting and ominious. Almost appears as if prophecising with:
Also ominious is the request about to be asked and as CeJay says when you leave us hanging on a chapter like that it usually ain't straightforward or good.
Me also wrecking the brain thinking what do the Borg do with static time bubbles - sounds like a very unconvential weapon they might make use of.
Glad you got your degree and carried on.Kudos on a great alien
and I'd really like to read more about them - whether in this story or future. Not sure if they are good as they appear or perhaps something shifty about them - certainly potential. Either way very interesting.Interesting and ominious. Almost appears as if prophecising with:
Also ominious is the request about to be asked and as CeJay says when you leave us hanging on a chapter like that it usually ain't straightforward or good.
Me also wrecking the brain thinking what do the Borg do with static time bubbles - sounds like a very unconvential weapon they might make use of.
VERY nice...I think my favorite part was the V'Griid's "speech"--it almost had the tone of a prophecy, and I like how it wasn't perfectly translated.
I have a feeling I know the general idea of what Akinola will be asked to do. Poor thing...
I have a feeling I know the general idea of what Akinola will be asked to do. Poor thing...
I think I have something of an idea too on what Joseph is going to have to do and yes, this is going to be hard--but, if it's what I think it is, it'll provide some closure for him as well.
I liked the V'Griid--nice bit of misdirection here as my first thought was V'Griid/V'ger...but I was wrong. And, I have a feeling Solly is going to get a message from this as well...
I liked the V'Griid--nice bit of misdirection here as my first thought was V'Griid/V'ger...but I was wrong. And, I have a feeling Solly is going to get a message from this as well...
Chapter Nineteen
Stardate 54260.3 (16 April 2377)
USS Scamp
Sector 04341 – Near the Lesser Riven nebula
Captain Boris Rodenko sat dejectedly in his ready room, an ignored cup of black tea growing cold on his desk. On his terminal screen, the image of Admiral Morgan Bateson appeared equally somber.
"And that's all I have to report, Admiral," sighed Rodenko. "It would seem that the Borg have somehow abducted Captain Akinola and his comrades, but we have no way of knowing where."
Bateson ran a hand through his beard and nodded. "I see." He gazed off-screen for several moments, apparently deep in thought. "Based on your report, Captain, I am calling an end to the search and rescue operation, effective 24 hours from now."
Rodenko's eyes widened in disbelief. "Calling it off? Bozhe moi! Admiral - you can't be serious! We've only been on-station 36 hours . . . it's much too soon to give up!"
"I understand how you feel, Boris, but this is no longer a search and rescue operation by any reasonable definition. You have no idea where the Eku went and have no way of conducting a rescue. I will order the Pamlico to your location to drop off sensor buoys, but I need your ship and the Bluefin back on patrol - we're short available cutters as it is."
"Joseph Akinola would not give up so easily if you were missing!" Rodenko snapped.
Bateson glared at the Russian Captain for several seconds before responding.
"Joseph Akinola is my friend, too, Captain. He is also a consummate professional! He would know when a situation required his presence and when it was time to move on," Bateson said, in a dangerously quiet tone. "I will overlook your outburst . . . this time . . . because I know how close you are to Captain Akinola. But I expect you to carry out my orders, is that understood?"
Rodenko returned Bateson's glare, but gave a curt nod. "Aye, aye," he replied, tightly.
Bateson held Rodenko's gaze across the subspace channel without flinching. "Good. Believe me, Captain, it gives me no pleasure to give this order. I hope to hell that somehow, Joseph can find their way back home."
"Da, as do I," replied Rodenko, his burst of anger spent he sagged morosely back into his chair.
Bateson offered a weak smile. "Then at least we agree on something. The Pamlico will arrive in about 18 hours to deploy the sensor buoys. If you come up with anything before then, let me know. Bateson, out."
Morgan Bateson's face disappeared, to be replaced by the Border Service logo. Rodenko continued to stare at the screen for several moments before picking up his tea cup. He grimaced as the tepid tea passed his lips and he set the cup down in disgust.
* * *
On Star Station Echo, Admiral Bateson sat brooding at his desk for several minutes. He finally stood and walked to the cabinet where he kept his collection of fine beverages. He pulled out a bottle that glowed an electric blue and poured a generous amount into a glass. Downing it swiftly, he placed his knuckles on the counter top, savoring the burning flow of the liquid as it coursed its way to his gut.
He looked up to see his reflection in the mirror over the cabinet. He glared at his image
"Who are you looking at, you disloyal son-of-a-bitch?" he growled.
* * *
Stardate 54260.3 (16 April 2377)
USS Bluefin
Sector 04341 – Near the Lesser Riven nebula
Inga Strauss sat at the desk in her quarters, a plate of food from the wardroom barely touched lay before her. She had not felt like socializing with the junior officers and had brought the tray to her cabin for some solitude. She found, though, that she had no appetite, even though the chicken casserole was one of her favorites from Cookie's galley.
She turned her attention to crew rotations to take her mind off the numbing sense of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her. Strauss found a degree of comfort in the routine of working out personnel assignments and the challenge of properly staffing the three shifts, week in and week out.
Strauss noted a comment from Cookie Marino, the ship's cook, requesting additional enlisted help in the galley.
I need to pass that along to Solly . . . the thought brought her up short. No Solly . . . no Chief of the Boat. No Captain, no Chief Medical Officer, no Second Officer and no Assistant Ops Officer either.
She felt ashamed that she was even considering the loss of key officers and crew related to their function. These were her shipmates! Friends, for the most part.
Angrily, she pushed the terminal screen away from her and stood. She had to do something!
The problem was, she had no idea what to do.
She was about to change into her work-out togs and head to the gym, when her commbadge chirped. She tapped it a bit harder than necessary.
"Strauss, go ahead."
"Ensign Vashtee, ma'am. I have Captain Rodenko standing by to speak to you."
Now what? Strauss thought. Aloud, she said. "Pipe it through to my quarters, Ensign."
Inga re-seated herself and turned the screen back to face her. Momentarily, the image of Boris Rodenko appeared on the terminal. He did not look happy.
"Commander," he began without preamble, "Admiral Bateson has ordered us to conclude SAR-OPs within 24 hours. The Pamlico is en-route to deploy sensor buoys, but we are to resume patrol duties after that time."
Strauss felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. "So soon?" she asked, weakly.
"It is the Admiral's opinion that we are not accomplishing anything useful by remaining on scene," he said, tersely.
"You . . . don't agree?" she asked, cautiously.
"I have already expressed my opinion to the Admiral, Commander Strauss. I will do my duty, as will you." His tone broached no argument.
"Yes sir." There really wasn't anything else to say.
Rodenko's expression softened slightly. "Commander, the Bluefin is yours, at least in the short run. I know Captain Akinola held . . . holds you in the highest regard. This cannot be easy for you, but you must carry on. It is what he would want."
The door annunciator to Inga's cabin began to chime. She frowned, trying to ignore it.
"I will do my best, sir," she said, though without enthusiasm.
Rodenko nodded. "I am sure of it. Dasvidanya, Commander Strauss. Rodenko, out."
The chiming of the annunciator continued incessantly. Inga swore softly and strode purposefully toward the door, ready to give whoever it was a royal ass-chewing.
To her surprise, when the door slid open, Lt. Commander Gralt pushed past her, his normally morose expression animated.
"Gralt?" she asked, perplexed, "What the hell do you . . ."
The Telarite Chief Engineer ignored her. "By the copulating leprous demons of Tragnur, I think I've got it!" he exclaimed.
She blinked. "Got what?"
He thrust a Data PADD at her. She held it, glanced at him, then back at the PADD, as if he'd handed her a dead fish. Gralt beamed triumphantly.
"I don't understand . . ." she began.
"The anti-chroniton particles!" he exclaimed, pointing at a complex series of equations on the PADD's screen. "Don't you see?"
She shook her head, somewhat dazed, "No . . . sorry . . . Gralt, what?"
He snatched the PADD back. "Frak a god-whoring Yaq-dul, Strauss!" he snorted, impatiently, "It's right there on the screen - I know where the Captain and the others are!"
Strauss' jaw hung open for a moment, before she recovered. "What? Where, Gralt? Where are they?"
He shook his head quickly, his dark black eyes wide with excitment. "They're still right in the area! They didn't really go anywhere. And the right question isn't where, it's when!"
* * *
Stardate 54260.3 (16 April 2377)
USS Scamp
Sector 04341 – Near the Lesser Riven nebula
Captain Boris Rodenko sat dejectedly in his ready room, an ignored cup of black tea growing cold on his desk. On his terminal screen, the image of Admiral Morgan Bateson appeared equally somber.
"And that's all I have to report, Admiral," sighed Rodenko. "It would seem that the Borg have somehow abducted Captain Akinola and his comrades, but we have no way of knowing where."
Bateson ran a hand through his beard and nodded. "I see." He gazed off-screen for several moments, apparently deep in thought. "Based on your report, Captain, I am calling an end to the search and rescue operation, effective 24 hours from now."
Rodenko's eyes widened in disbelief. "Calling it off? Bozhe moi! Admiral - you can't be serious! We've only been on-station 36 hours . . . it's much too soon to give up!"
"I understand how you feel, Boris, but this is no longer a search and rescue operation by any reasonable definition. You have no idea where the Eku went and have no way of conducting a rescue. I will order the Pamlico to your location to drop off sensor buoys, but I need your ship and the Bluefin back on patrol - we're short available cutters as it is."
"Joseph Akinola would not give up so easily if you were missing!" Rodenko snapped.
Bateson glared at the Russian Captain for several seconds before responding.
"Joseph Akinola is my friend, too, Captain. He is also a consummate professional! He would know when a situation required his presence and when it was time to move on," Bateson said, in a dangerously quiet tone. "I will overlook your outburst . . . this time . . . because I know how close you are to Captain Akinola. But I expect you to carry out my orders, is that understood?"
Rodenko returned Bateson's glare, but gave a curt nod. "Aye, aye," he replied, tightly.
Bateson held Rodenko's gaze across the subspace channel without flinching. "Good. Believe me, Captain, it gives me no pleasure to give this order. I hope to hell that somehow, Joseph can find their way back home."
"Da, as do I," replied Rodenko, his burst of anger spent he sagged morosely back into his chair.
Bateson offered a weak smile. "Then at least we agree on something. The Pamlico will arrive in about 18 hours to deploy the sensor buoys. If you come up with anything before then, let me know. Bateson, out."
Morgan Bateson's face disappeared, to be replaced by the Border Service logo. Rodenko continued to stare at the screen for several moments before picking up his tea cup. He grimaced as the tepid tea passed his lips and he set the cup down in disgust.
* * *
On Star Station Echo, Admiral Bateson sat brooding at his desk for several minutes. He finally stood and walked to the cabinet where he kept his collection of fine beverages. He pulled out a bottle that glowed an electric blue and poured a generous amount into a glass. Downing it swiftly, he placed his knuckles on the counter top, savoring the burning flow of the liquid as it coursed its way to his gut.
He looked up to see his reflection in the mirror over the cabinet. He glared at his image
"Who are you looking at, you disloyal son-of-a-bitch?" he growled.
* * *
Stardate 54260.3 (16 April 2377)
USS Bluefin
Sector 04341 – Near the Lesser Riven nebula
Inga Strauss sat at the desk in her quarters, a plate of food from the wardroom barely touched lay before her. She had not felt like socializing with the junior officers and had brought the tray to her cabin for some solitude. She found, though, that she had no appetite, even though the chicken casserole was one of her favorites from Cookie's galley.
She turned her attention to crew rotations to take her mind off the numbing sense of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her. Strauss found a degree of comfort in the routine of working out personnel assignments and the challenge of properly staffing the three shifts, week in and week out.
Strauss noted a comment from Cookie Marino, the ship's cook, requesting additional enlisted help in the galley.
I need to pass that along to Solly . . . the thought brought her up short. No Solly . . . no Chief of the Boat. No Captain, no Chief Medical Officer, no Second Officer and no Assistant Ops Officer either.
She felt ashamed that she was even considering the loss of key officers and crew related to their function. These were her shipmates! Friends, for the most part.
Angrily, she pushed the terminal screen away from her and stood. She had to do something!
The problem was, she had no idea what to do.
She was about to change into her work-out togs and head to the gym, when her commbadge chirped. She tapped it a bit harder than necessary.
"Strauss, go ahead."
"Ensign Vashtee, ma'am. I have Captain Rodenko standing by to speak to you."
Now what? Strauss thought. Aloud, she said. "Pipe it through to my quarters, Ensign."
Inga re-seated herself and turned the screen back to face her. Momentarily, the image of Boris Rodenko appeared on the terminal. He did not look happy.
"Commander," he began without preamble, "Admiral Bateson has ordered us to conclude SAR-OPs within 24 hours. The Pamlico is en-route to deploy sensor buoys, but we are to resume patrol duties after that time."
Strauss felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. "So soon?" she asked, weakly.
"It is the Admiral's opinion that we are not accomplishing anything useful by remaining on scene," he said, tersely.
"You . . . don't agree?" she asked, cautiously.
"I have already expressed my opinion to the Admiral, Commander Strauss. I will do my duty, as will you." His tone broached no argument.
"Yes sir." There really wasn't anything else to say.
Rodenko's expression softened slightly. "Commander, the Bluefin is yours, at least in the short run. I know Captain Akinola held . . . holds you in the highest regard. This cannot be easy for you, but you must carry on. It is what he would want."
The door annunciator to Inga's cabin began to chime. She frowned, trying to ignore it.
"I will do my best, sir," she said, though without enthusiasm.
Rodenko nodded. "I am sure of it. Dasvidanya, Commander Strauss. Rodenko, out."
The chiming of the annunciator continued incessantly. Inga swore softly and strode purposefully toward the door, ready to give whoever it was a royal ass-chewing.
To her surprise, when the door slid open, Lt. Commander Gralt pushed past her, his normally morose expression animated.
"Gralt?" she asked, perplexed, "What the hell do you . . ."
The Telarite Chief Engineer ignored her. "By the copulating leprous demons of Tragnur, I think I've got it!" he exclaimed.
She blinked. "Got what?"
He thrust a Data PADD at her. She held it, glanced at him, then back at the PADD, as if he'd handed her a dead fish. Gralt beamed triumphantly.
"I don't understand . . ." she began.
"The anti-chroniton particles!" he exclaimed, pointing at a complex series of equations on the PADD's screen. "Don't you see?"
She shook her head, somewhat dazed, "No . . . sorry . . . Gralt, what?"
He snatched the PADD back. "Frak a god-whoring Yaq-dul, Strauss!" he snorted, impatiently, "It's right there on the screen - I know where the Captain and the others are!"
Strauss' jaw hung open for a moment, before she recovered. "What? Where, Gralt? Where are they?"
He shook his head quickly, his dark black eyes wide with excitment. "They're still right in the area! They didn't really go anywhere. And the right question isn't where, it's when!"
* * *
Damn! I knew there was something about those time static bubbles! just in time too for Strauss was about to be put through the ringer if she had to abandon the search for the Captain.
Similarly, Bateson had to make a tough choice and this sums it up beautifully:
Similarly, Bateson had to make a tough choice and this sums it up beautifully:
Time travel always gives me headaches.
And I have a feeling Inga is gonna one hell of a headache now. Time to square the shoulders and get the Bluefin moving...
Destination...Eku.
And I have a feeling Inga is gonna one hell of a headache now. Time to square the shoulders and get the Bluefin moving...
Destination...Eku.
Good thing Gralt's figured it out! Let's just hope they're able to beat the clock!
Frak a god-whoring Yaq-dul, indeed. How could we have been so stupid as not to think of a complete time displacement ... ? Must have been all the distractions about Ghosts and the Borg and Solly's family troubles. 
Thank goodness for good ol' Gralt. The question of course is: Does he know how to get them back?
Liked the depressed mood in this chapter, especially Strass and Bateson. Well done.
Thank goodness for good ol' Gralt. The question of course is: Does he know how to get them back?
Liked the depressed mood in this chapter, especially Strass and Bateson. Well done.
I love the Bluefin stories, the grittier part of Starfleet that all the UT writers give us a peak to really appeals to me. Keep up the great work!
Btw, have you given any thought to what the Border Service insignia looks like? I have been curious what the difference is from the regular Fleet logo and combadges.
Btw, have you given any thought to what the Border Service insignia looks like? I have been curious what the difference is from the regular Fleet logo and combadges.
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