We're not done yet, but thank you all the same. 
-- ZC
-- ZC
The Chains of Error - Gibraltar/Full Speed Ahead Crossover
- Thread starter Gibraltar
- Start date
Man, this was tough. I feel real broken up for Leone. True, Ariel was never my favorite person but her unexpected death still feels like a punch in the gut, reminiscent of another prominent fatality during a Gibraltar mission.
You guys need to stop killing of great characters. They dont just grow on trees, you know?
You guys need to stop killing of great characters. They dont just grow on trees, you know?
Actually, I have a Great Character Tree in my backyard.
Hehe, jk. Thanks for the kind words, CeJay. As a reward, I'm working on finishing Fever Five for you.
-- ZC
Sam and I finished the raw writing for The Chains of Error last night, which is awesome. Some short edits and checks by Sam should result in it being published here, soon. But, I wanted to share some of my thoughts on writing collaboratively with Sam on my writing blog:
http://aafic.me/wSA0QV
-- ZC
http://aafic.me/wSA0QV
-- ZC
The Chains of Error - Chapter 11
NCC-74229 (USS Gallant)
Lieutenant Merrit Kelley nervously held the old-fashioned glass in her hands. The caramel-colored liquid remained untouched since the captain poured her a couple of fingers. By the time the captain was on her third glass, Kelley remained unsure if she should bother drinking it.
"Did I ever tell you the story of how Ariel and I met?" asked Kircheis. Kelley was amazed that after that much alcohol, the captain wasn't already drunk.
"No, sir, you didn't."
Kircheis smiled sadly. "I actually didn't want to be on Farragut when I got there. I had put in for an assignment on Enterprise for helm duty. When I got there, I had a little chip on my shoulder for being assigned to a ship with such a horrible reputation."
Kelley tilted her head at that. "How so?"
Kircheis knocked back the remained of her glass and then reached for the bottle, once more. "Krystine Leone was well-known in the fleet for being one of those fortunate daughters of an admiral. She didn't break any records for promotion or anything, but it was pretty unusual for a first-time four-pipper to obtain command of a Nebula-class starship. Usually, they'd try you out on an older construction, like an Excelsior or a Constellation. At the time, there were only eight Nebula-class starships in service, and even less Galaxy-class starships.
She replaced the bottle upon the table and leaned back against the bulkhead. "I mean, she was the daughter of the former deputy chief of Starfleet Operations. It wasn't hard to connect the dots. Her family is a legacy, going back to the days of the signing of the Starfleet charter. Her kid, Dominic? He's already a junior grade lieutenant. He has less than a year's service."
"Forgive me for saying this, sir..."
"Speak freely, Merrit," the captain reminded her.
Kelley leaned forward to rest her elbows upon the small table within the captain's cabin. "It's just that you're telling me these things like it's no big deal, but... I mean, it took me almost two years to reach lieutenant. It's hard not to feel a little resentment toward her son, right now."
Kircheis giggled a couple of time before tasting her newly refreshed glass with a tender sip. "Essentially, you're understanding why the whole Leone family can be somewhat off-putting before you even meet them. People gossip and sometimes embellish, and pretty soon the whole fleet is looking at you strangely. That was why I almost got booted off the ship my first week there."
Kelley showed her understanding with a single nod, remaining silent so her captain could continue.
"Like I said, I had a chip on my shoulder. I didn't want to be on a ship renown for its misfit crew and legacy captain. I reported aboard like I had been assigned to scrub plasma conduits on a merchant marine freighter, not as a helmsman aboard one of the fleet's most advanced heavy cruisers," Kircheis explained. "The first time I arrived on the bridge for my shift, I was sullen and sulking. And the officer manning the ops console to my left was none other than Lieutenant Commander Ariel Elannis."
"She was a lieutenant commander back then?"
"Yeah," Kircheis replied sadly. "Ariel had a tendency to act without thinking. It cost her a couple of reprimands. I don't think she would've even seen that third full pip unless it hadn't been for Admiral Leone. Ariel and the admiral are... were very close." She paused briefly and sighed heavily. Her gaze turned toward the bulkhead, as though she were looking in the admiral's direction. "The admiral must be going through hell right now. I should call her."
Kelley rose to leave, but the captain raised her hand to stop her.
"Not right now, Merrit. Let me finish drowning my sorrows, first," Kircheis lowered her hand, keeping her sad smile. "Anyway, that first shift on the bridge was my worst one. I responded to orders without any enthusiasm or desire to actually be there. It went noticed by Ariel and others, and so I got pulled aside by her when we took our breaks.
"She literally tapped my shoulder and pulled me into the captain's ready room. I remember her speech like it just happened. She spent five minutes asking me what my problem was, and when I told her, she showed me exactly how angry she can get. I got an earful that morning..."
The captain's eyes watered, and Kelley reached for a nearby cloth handkerchief and handed it to Kircheis.
"Thank you." Kircheis took the handkerchief and used it to dab at her eyes. "I'm sorry... I was just thinking about how devoted she was and the sound of her voice. I realized that I'm never going to get to hear that again."
"I'm sorry, sir," was all Kelley could say.
"After that wake-up call she gave me, I changed my attitude. I didn't want to get kicked of that ship; it was career suicide enough to be on Farragut, but to get forcibly transferred off would have been even worse," the captain blew her nose loudly. "Ugh, sorry."
"It's all right."
"I, uh... decided to serve out my tour. I got involved. I wanted to transfer off with high marks on my evaluation reports. But, what I didn't realize was that going all-out and participating in ship activities and getting to know my crew-mates... I made so many friends that I still keep in touch with, today. I ended up staying aboard Farragut for two tours of duty. When Leone got her promotion to rear admiral and left, a lot of us left that ship, because we realized that it wouldn't be the same."
"It was a good thing you did, sir. If you had put in for a third, you'd be dead right now." Kelley referred to the destruction of Farragut during the Klingon-Federation conflict right before the Dominion War. The ship was destroyed near the Lembatta Cluster on its way to reinforce Ajilon Prime.
Kircheis smiled. "True. But if Captain Leone had refused promotion and stayed with Farragut, I've no doubt that maybe that ship would still be around even today. In spite of all the ill-repute, there was one thing they could never take away from her years in command. She was one of the best COs I ever served under. All my future COs had to live up to that."
"But now you're the CO and you're reporting to her, again," Kelley pointed out. She finally took a testing sip from the glass and coughed slightly as the liquid traced a trail of fire down her gullet. "My god, what is this?"
"Scotch. I thought you'd had it before?"
"No, sir." She went to the replicator and ordered, "Water, ten degrees Celsius." Kelley grabbed the glass as soon as it finished materializing and consumed three-quarters of the glass before catching her breath. "That is some bitter-tasting booze, sir."
Kircheis laughed hard enough to fall into her bunk at the scene playing before her. It was an uncontrolled laughter, worrying Kelley a bit. Had her captain cracked under pressure?
"Sir?"
"I'm sorry, Merrit. It's just that..." the captain paused to wipe at her tears as her words were perforated by her more-restrained giggling. "Ariel gave me my first taste of scotch when I made lieutenant. And, uh... well, I had nearly the same reaction you did. Except, I didn't stop with one glass of water." In a far more calmer tone, "And eventually, we shared enough bottles together that I acquired the taste for it. Once you acquire that taste, well... you find it's the best thing you could ever hope for. I don't think I would drink anything else."
Kelley watched as Kircheis' mood swung back toward morose as more memories erupted. "I'm sure I'll get there, sir. I'm sorry for wasting it."
"Not at all. In fact, it's... kind of fitting, actually." Kircheis reached for the bottle one more and poured herself a little more of the scotch within her glass to replace what she had already drank. She rose from her seat with a raised glass.
Kelley moved to her own glass of scotch and raised hers.
"To Ariel Elannis," said Kircheis as she grinned. "An acquired taste."
*****
NCC-1859 (USS Gibraltar)
Sandhurst tracked Lar’ragos down in a quiet corner of the ship’s cavernous rec deck, seated far from the bustle and laughter of the gaming tables, holo-pits, and bar that frequently dominated the attention of the recreation area’s patrons.
Lar’ragos was wearing civilian clothes, but this time a more subdued wardrobe consisting of trousers, a loose v-neck shirt, and a tan leather-like jacket. Gone were the gaudy t-shirts emblazoned with sarcastic or ominous slogans. The skin across much of his face was pinkish, as though he were recovering from a sunburn rather than dermal regeneration treatments for second and third degree burns. His hair, another unfortunate casualty of his injuries, had been shaved off. Lar’ragos had elected to maintain the hairless pate as his new skin healed.
After waiting for Pava’s nod of approval, Sandhurst pulled out the chair across from the El Aurian and sat down. The captain looked across the table at his friend, who had appeared deep in thought upon his approach. “Admiral Wisstram requested I speak to you again about your leave of absence.”
Lar’ragos grunted sourly in response, pausing to take a sip of his synthale before replying. “And you told him… what?”
“That I’d certainly try, but once your mind was made up, not even a black hole was capable of changing your direction.”
“Truer words were never spoken.”
“So, if not back to duty, where are you off to?” Sandhurst inquired casually.
“I thought Vulcan would be a nice place to go and dry out.”
“Dry out?”
“Get my head straight again and detox from the morally ambiguous world of Special Ops. Maybe figure out where I want to go from here.”
Sandhurst nodded his understanding. “Why’s Wisstram so anxious to get you back?”
A smile tugged at the corner of Lar’ragos mouth. “He wants to send me to Romulus.”
Sandhurst raised an eyebrow. “Lead an SMT into the heart of the Romulan Empire? That’s pretty bold.”
“Not a team,” Lar’ragos corrected before taking another draught of his ale. “Just me.”
“You?” Sandhurst was incredulous. “You’re a special forces operator, not a secret agent.”
Lar’ragos snorted at that. “Of course I’m a spy, Donald. I’ve worked for Intel on and off for most of my career.”
“Wait…” Sandhurst’s expression soured. “After our first mission aboard I asked you if you were working for SI. You swore you weren’t, and said that you’d never worked for them in any capacity.”
Lar’ragos finished his drink in a single quaff. “I lied,” he said simply.
“You lied,” Sandhurst echoed, disbelief evident in his tone. “I thought I knew you.”
Lar’ragos fixed Sandhurst with a hard look. “After all we’ve seen… hell, after all we’ve done, you can’t really be that naïve, Captain.”
“Apparently I am, Pava,” Sandhurst replied heavily. He stared out the viewport for a moment as he struggled to reconcile this new data wth the complex equation that was their decades old friendship. Finally, he turned back to Lar’ragos. “Dare I ask what he wants you to do on Romulus?”
“If I had to guess, the good admiral desires an old-fashioned L-C-I-L black op.”
“Lickle?” Sandhurst asked with a skeptical frown.
“Locate, capture, interrogate, and liquidate. The Intel spooks want to know who Galmesh’s handler, Sataem, was taking her orders from. Once that person or persons have been identified, SI will want to send a not-so-subtle message to whoever was using rogue Klingons as proxies to kill Federation personnel. It’d be a complicated operation because the Rommies have so many competing spy agencies that even they don’t know what all they’re up to at any given moment.”
Lar’ragos looked up at Sandhurst from where he’d been examining his empty glass to find the captain staring at him. “What?”
“That Section 31 outfit that Captain Aurelia blamed for the destruction of her ship. Are you part of that, too?”
Lar’ragos actually laughed out loud at that. “Not that you’d have any reason to believe me, but no.”
“It seems that given what you’ve just told me, you’d be perfect for them.”
The El Aurian shook his head. “No. I’m an unabashed patriot, far too vocal about my loyalties for their tastes. I’d be too obvious.”
“And if they’d asked?” pressed Sandhurst.
“Oh, I’d have joined them in a heartbeat,” Lar’ragos confirmed. He gestured out the viewport with the hand holding his empty glass, the ice clinking merrily. “You haven’t been out there, Donald, deep in the black. It’s pure anarchy, savagery on a scale that would horrify any rational sentient. Might makes right and the powerful walk upon the backs of the weak.” Pava’s eyes narrowed, and Sandhurst felt an electric shiver race down his spine in response to the thousand lightyear stare in the smaller man’s gaze. “What we have here in the Federation must be preserved at all costs.”
“At the expense of the very morality that serves as the foundation for our union?”
“Our morality is a luxury we afford ourselves because our bellies are filled, our ambitions are sated, and because nobody’s standing on our necks.” Lar’ragos sat back in his chair, looking aghast. “Gods, man, it’s been less than two years since the war ended. Have you forgotten how close we came to losing everything?”
Sandhurst held Pava’s eyes with sudden intensity that gave Lar’ragos pause, despite his age and experince. “Right, because the last two years have been such a fucking picnic for us.”
Lar’ragos closed his eyes briefly and inclined his head towards Sandhurst. “And this is merely the aftermath, the echoes of that conflict. Look around us. The Klingons are close to falling apart because their warrior ethos was unprepared for the pure ferocity of the Dominion. The stagnation and corruption in their society is calling the very cultural underpinnings of Kahless' legacy into question. The Romulan state is nearly bankrupt. They were resource poor before the war, and now they’re barely hanging on by their fingernails. Even their servitor races are clamoring for freedom. Cardassia is a hollow shell of its former glory, a third of their population annihilated in the past decade, and the survivors are living off handouts from the Federation.”
“Your point,” Sandhurst prompted crossly.
“My point, Captain-my-Captain, is that the Federation is more vital, more necessary, more important than ever. That makes defending it through any and every means possible a moral imperative.”
Sandhurst stood, looking down at his friend with a pitying expression. “Then I was right the first time. There really is no place for you here, Pava. I’ve had just about everything else taken from me, I won’t surrender my hope.”
“I’m not a fatalist, Donald, I’m a realist. Things are going to get worse before they get better, I can feel it in my bones. It may not bode ill specifically for you or this ship, but for the Federation as a whole. And when that time comes, you’re going to wish like Hell that I was here.”
“Maybe so,” Sandhurst said as he turned his back. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
"And yet," Lar'ragos called out, causing Sandhurst to pause. "When you need me, I'll always be there."
Sandhurst elected not to respond, and instead strode out of the recreation deck without another word.
*****
USS Gallant
The form of Jesse Kincaid materialized within the cramped transporter bay of Gallant, along with the stragglers from the ship's crew that took part in the celebrations held on Gibraltar following the successful completion of the mission.
He stepped down from the pad with the three others and smiled at the welcome. "Lieutenant Kelley, I presume?"
Kelley snapped her fingers and the two security guards with her stepped forward. She intoned, "Commander Jesse Kincaid, by order of Starfleet, I am taking you into custody aboard Gallant for transfer to Earth. You will be remanded to the brig under guard for the duration of this flight."
With a pained expression, he frowned. "Is that really necessary, Lieutenant?"
"I'm afraid that with the number of guests we have aboard, sir, we are short on space," Kelley replied, although her tone lacked the respect with which a lieutenant would usually address a commander. "The captain has ordered that you be placed in the brig."
"I see," Kincaid said. He held up his hands together and offered them to Kelley. "I presume your captain is still Lieutenant Commander Carolyn Kircheis?"
Kelley did not hesitate. She slapped the binders on his wrists immediately. "Yes, Commander."
He winced slightly as she did so. "Any chance I could see her sometime before we reach Earth?"
"I'm sure something could be arranged," replied Kelley quickly. She turned to the guards and ordered, "Take him below."
*****
NCC-74229 (USS Gallant)
Lieutenant Merrit Kelley nervously held the old-fashioned glass in her hands. The caramel-colored liquid remained untouched since the captain poured her a couple of fingers. By the time the captain was on her third glass, Kelley remained unsure if she should bother drinking it.
"Did I ever tell you the story of how Ariel and I met?" asked Kircheis. Kelley was amazed that after that much alcohol, the captain wasn't already drunk.
"No, sir, you didn't."
Kircheis smiled sadly. "I actually didn't want to be on Farragut when I got there. I had put in for an assignment on Enterprise for helm duty. When I got there, I had a little chip on my shoulder for being assigned to a ship with such a horrible reputation."
Kelley tilted her head at that. "How so?"
Kircheis knocked back the remained of her glass and then reached for the bottle, once more. "Krystine Leone was well-known in the fleet for being one of those fortunate daughters of an admiral. She didn't break any records for promotion or anything, but it was pretty unusual for a first-time four-pipper to obtain command of a Nebula-class starship. Usually, they'd try you out on an older construction, like an Excelsior or a Constellation. At the time, there were only eight Nebula-class starships in service, and even less Galaxy-class starships.
She replaced the bottle upon the table and leaned back against the bulkhead. "I mean, she was the daughter of the former deputy chief of Starfleet Operations. It wasn't hard to connect the dots. Her family is a legacy, going back to the days of the signing of the Starfleet charter. Her kid, Dominic? He's already a junior grade lieutenant. He has less than a year's service."
"Forgive me for saying this, sir..."
"Speak freely, Merrit," the captain reminded her.
Kelley leaned forward to rest her elbows upon the small table within the captain's cabin. "It's just that you're telling me these things like it's no big deal, but... I mean, it took me almost two years to reach lieutenant. It's hard not to feel a little resentment toward her son, right now."
Kircheis giggled a couple of time before tasting her newly refreshed glass with a tender sip. "Essentially, you're understanding why the whole Leone family can be somewhat off-putting before you even meet them. People gossip and sometimes embellish, and pretty soon the whole fleet is looking at you strangely. That was why I almost got booted off the ship my first week there."
Kelley showed her understanding with a single nod, remaining silent so her captain could continue.
"Like I said, I had a chip on my shoulder. I didn't want to be on a ship renown for its misfit crew and legacy captain. I reported aboard like I had been assigned to scrub plasma conduits on a merchant marine freighter, not as a helmsman aboard one of the fleet's most advanced heavy cruisers," Kircheis explained. "The first time I arrived on the bridge for my shift, I was sullen and sulking. And the officer manning the ops console to my left was none other than Lieutenant Commander Ariel Elannis."
"She was a lieutenant commander back then?"
"Yeah," Kircheis replied sadly. "Ariel had a tendency to act without thinking. It cost her a couple of reprimands. I don't think she would've even seen that third full pip unless it hadn't been for Admiral Leone. Ariel and the admiral are... were very close." She paused briefly and sighed heavily. Her gaze turned toward the bulkhead, as though she were looking in the admiral's direction. "The admiral must be going through hell right now. I should call her."
Kelley rose to leave, but the captain raised her hand to stop her.
"Not right now, Merrit. Let me finish drowning my sorrows, first," Kircheis lowered her hand, keeping her sad smile. "Anyway, that first shift on the bridge was my worst one. I responded to orders without any enthusiasm or desire to actually be there. It went noticed by Ariel and others, and so I got pulled aside by her when we took our breaks.
"She literally tapped my shoulder and pulled me into the captain's ready room. I remember her speech like it just happened. She spent five minutes asking me what my problem was, and when I told her, she showed me exactly how angry she can get. I got an earful that morning..."
The captain's eyes watered, and Kelley reached for a nearby cloth handkerchief and handed it to Kircheis.
"Thank you." Kircheis took the handkerchief and used it to dab at her eyes. "I'm sorry... I was just thinking about how devoted she was and the sound of her voice. I realized that I'm never going to get to hear that again."
"I'm sorry, sir," was all Kelley could say.
"After that wake-up call she gave me, I changed my attitude. I didn't want to get kicked of that ship; it was career suicide enough to be on Farragut, but to get forcibly transferred off would have been even worse," the captain blew her nose loudly. "Ugh, sorry."
"It's all right."
"I, uh... decided to serve out my tour. I got involved. I wanted to transfer off with high marks on my evaluation reports. But, what I didn't realize was that going all-out and participating in ship activities and getting to know my crew-mates... I made so many friends that I still keep in touch with, today. I ended up staying aboard Farragut for two tours of duty. When Leone got her promotion to rear admiral and left, a lot of us left that ship, because we realized that it wouldn't be the same."
"It was a good thing you did, sir. If you had put in for a third, you'd be dead right now." Kelley referred to the destruction of Farragut during the Klingon-Federation conflict right before the Dominion War. The ship was destroyed near the Lembatta Cluster on its way to reinforce Ajilon Prime.
Kircheis smiled. "True. But if Captain Leone had refused promotion and stayed with Farragut, I've no doubt that maybe that ship would still be around even today. In spite of all the ill-repute, there was one thing they could never take away from her years in command. She was one of the best COs I ever served under. All my future COs had to live up to that."
"But now you're the CO and you're reporting to her, again," Kelley pointed out. She finally took a testing sip from the glass and coughed slightly as the liquid traced a trail of fire down her gullet. "My god, what is this?"
"Scotch. I thought you'd had it before?"
"No, sir." She went to the replicator and ordered, "Water, ten degrees Celsius." Kelley grabbed the glass as soon as it finished materializing and consumed three-quarters of the glass before catching her breath. "That is some bitter-tasting booze, sir."
Kircheis laughed hard enough to fall into her bunk at the scene playing before her. It was an uncontrolled laughter, worrying Kelley a bit. Had her captain cracked under pressure?
"Sir?"
"I'm sorry, Merrit. It's just that..." the captain paused to wipe at her tears as her words were perforated by her more-restrained giggling. "Ariel gave me my first taste of scotch when I made lieutenant. And, uh... well, I had nearly the same reaction you did. Except, I didn't stop with one glass of water." In a far more calmer tone, "And eventually, we shared enough bottles together that I acquired the taste for it. Once you acquire that taste, well... you find it's the best thing you could ever hope for. I don't think I would drink anything else."
Kelley watched as Kircheis' mood swung back toward morose as more memories erupted. "I'm sure I'll get there, sir. I'm sorry for wasting it."
"Not at all. In fact, it's... kind of fitting, actually." Kircheis reached for the bottle one more and poured herself a little more of the scotch within her glass to replace what she had already drank. She rose from her seat with a raised glass.
Kelley moved to her own glass of scotch and raised hers.
"To Ariel Elannis," said Kircheis as she grinned. "An acquired taste."
*****
NCC-1859 (USS Gibraltar)
Sandhurst tracked Lar’ragos down in a quiet corner of the ship’s cavernous rec deck, seated far from the bustle and laughter of the gaming tables, holo-pits, and bar that frequently dominated the attention of the recreation area’s patrons.
Lar’ragos was wearing civilian clothes, but this time a more subdued wardrobe consisting of trousers, a loose v-neck shirt, and a tan leather-like jacket. Gone were the gaudy t-shirts emblazoned with sarcastic or ominous slogans. The skin across much of his face was pinkish, as though he were recovering from a sunburn rather than dermal regeneration treatments for second and third degree burns. His hair, another unfortunate casualty of his injuries, had been shaved off. Lar’ragos had elected to maintain the hairless pate as his new skin healed.
After waiting for Pava’s nod of approval, Sandhurst pulled out the chair across from the El Aurian and sat down. The captain looked across the table at his friend, who had appeared deep in thought upon his approach. “Admiral Wisstram requested I speak to you again about your leave of absence.”
Lar’ragos grunted sourly in response, pausing to take a sip of his synthale before replying. “And you told him… what?”
“That I’d certainly try, but once your mind was made up, not even a black hole was capable of changing your direction.”
“Truer words were never spoken.”
“So, if not back to duty, where are you off to?” Sandhurst inquired casually.
“I thought Vulcan would be a nice place to go and dry out.”
“Dry out?”
“Get my head straight again and detox from the morally ambiguous world of Special Ops. Maybe figure out where I want to go from here.”
Sandhurst nodded his understanding. “Why’s Wisstram so anxious to get you back?”
A smile tugged at the corner of Lar’ragos mouth. “He wants to send me to Romulus.”
Sandhurst raised an eyebrow. “Lead an SMT into the heart of the Romulan Empire? That’s pretty bold.”
“Not a team,” Lar’ragos corrected before taking another draught of his ale. “Just me.”
“You?” Sandhurst was incredulous. “You’re a special forces operator, not a secret agent.”
Lar’ragos snorted at that. “Of course I’m a spy, Donald. I’ve worked for Intel on and off for most of my career.”
“Wait…” Sandhurst’s expression soured. “After our first mission aboard I asked you if you were working for SI. You swore you weren’t, and said that you’d never worked for them in any capacity.”
Lar’ragos finished his drink in a single quaff. “I lied,” he said simply.
“You lied,” Sandhurst echoed, disbelief evident in his tone. “I thought I knew you.”
Lar’ragos fixed Sandhurst with a hard look. “After all we’ve seen… hell, after all we’ve done, you can’t really be that naïve, Captain.”
“Apparently I am, Pava,” Sandhurst replied heavily. He stared out the viewport for a moment as he struggled to reconcile this new data wth the complex equation that was their decades old friendship. Finally, he turned back to Lar’ragos. “Dare I ask what he wants you to do on Romulus?”
“If I had to guess, the good admiral desires an old-fashioned L-C-I-L black op.”
“Lickle?” Sandhurst asked with a skeptical frown.
“Locate, capture, interrogate, and liquidate. The Intel spooks want to know who Galmesh’s handler, Sataem, was taking her orders from. Once that person or persons have been identified, SI will want to send a not-so-subtle message to whoever was using rogue Klingons as proxies to kill Federation personnel. It’d be a complicated operation because the Rommies have so many competing spy agencies that even they don’t know what all they’re up to at any given moment.”
Lar’ragos looked up at Sandhurst from where he’d been examining his empty glass to find the captain staring at him. “What?”
“That Section 31 outfit that Captain Aurelia blamed for the destruction of her ship. Are you part of that, too?”
Lar’ragos actually laughed out loud at that. “Not that you’d have any reason to believe me, but no.”
“It seems that given what you’ve just told me, you’d be perfect for them.”
The El Aurian shook his head. “No. I’m an unabashed patriot, far too vocal about my loyalties for their tastes. I’d be too obvious.”
“And if they’d asked?” pressed Sandhurst.
“Oh, I’d have joined them in a heartbeat,” Lar’ragos confirmed. He gestured out the viewport with the hand holding his empty glass, the ice clinking merrily. “You haven’t been out there, Donald, deep in the black. It’s pure anarchy, savagery on a scale that would horrify any rational sentient. Might makes right and the powerful walk upon the backs of the weak.” Pava’s eyes narrowed, and Sandhurst felt an electric shiver race down his spine in response to the thousand lightyear stare in the smaller man’s gaze. “What we have here in the Federation must be preserved at all costs.”
“At the expense of the very morality that serves as the foundation for our union?”
“Our morality is a luxury we afford ourselves because our bellies are filled, our ambitions are sated, and because nobody’s standing on our necks.” Lar’ragos sat back in his chair, looking aghast. “Gods, man, it’s been less than two years since the war ended. Have you forgotten how close we came to losing everything?”
Sandhurst held Pava’s eyes with sudden intensity that gave Lar’ragos pause, despite his age and experince. “Right, because the last two years have been such a fucking picnic for us.”
Lar’ragos closed his eyes briefly and inclined his head towards Sandhurst. “And this is merely the aftermath, the echoes of that conflict. Look around us. The Klingons are close to falling apart because their warrior ethos was unprepared for the pure ferocity of the Dominion. The stagnation and corruption in their society is calling the very cultural underpinnings of Kahless' legacy into question. The Romulan state is nearly bankrupt. They were resource poor before the war, and now they’re barely hanging on by their fingernails. Even their servitor races are clamoring for freedom. Cardassia is a hollow shell of its former glory, a third of their population annihilated in the past decade, and the survivors are living off handouts from the Federation.”
“Your point,” Sandhurst prompted crossly.
“My point, Captain-my-Captain, is that the Federation is more vital, more necessary, more important than ever. That makes defending it through any and every means possible a moral imperative.”
Sandhurst stood, looking down at his friend with a pitying expression. “Then I was right the first time. There really is no place for you here, Pava. I’ve had just about everything else taken from me, I won’t surrender my hope.”
“I’m not a fatalist, Donald, I’m a realist. Things are going to get worse before they get better, I can feel it in my bones. It may not bode ill specifically for you or this ship, but for the Federation as a whole. And when that time comes, you’re going to wish like Hell that I was here.”
“Maybe so,” Sandhurst said as he turned his back. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
"And yet," Lar'ragos called out, causing Sandhurst to pause. "When you need me, I'll always be there."
Sandhurst elected not to respond, and instead strode out of the recreation deck without another word.
*****
USS Gallant
The form of Jesse Kincaid materialized within the cramped transporter bay of Gallant, along with the stragglers from the ship's crew that took part in the celebrations held on Gibraltar following the successful completion of the mission.
He stepped down from the pad with the three others and smiled at the welcome. "Lieutenant Kelley, I presume?"
Kelley snapped her fingers and the two security guards with her stepped forward. She intoned, "Commander Jesse Kincaid, by order of Starfleet, I am taking you into custody aboard Gallant for transfer to Earth. You will be remanded to the brig under guard for the duration of this flight."
With a pained expression, he frowned. "Is that really necessary, Lieutenant?"
"I'm afraid that with the number of guests we have aboard, sir, we are short on space," Kelley replied, although her tone lacked the respect with which a lieutenant would usually address a commander. "The captain has ordered that you be placed in the brig."
"I see," Kincaid said. He held up his hands together and offered them to Kelley. "I presume your captain is still Lieutenant Commander Carolyn Kircheis?"
Kelley did not hesitate. She slapped the binders on his wrists immediately. "Yes, Commander."
He winced slightly as she did so. "Any chance I could see her sometime before we reach Earth?"
"I'm sure something could be arranged," replied Kelley quickly. She turned to the guards and ordered, "Take him below."
*****
The Chains of Error - Chapter 11 (part 2)
Colonial Defense Vessel (CDV) Shrike
The recently reflagged corvette Shrike hung in space along with the other now-recognized elements of the newly-formed Colonial Navy. Moments after the negotiated Treaty of Gibraltar was signed and took effect, all former members of the Maquis were given the opportunity to join the new defense force, including those aboard Kincaid's former flagship.
Captain Suran sat within the center seat on the command deck of Shrike, while Commander Madge Laramie monitored the ship's power outputs from the engineering console to her left. The departure from the assembled task force was bittersweet for everyone aboard, and while they felt like celebrating, the success came at a high cost for them all.
"It just isn't the same," said Lieutenant Bobby Easterbrook from the helm. His words shattered the deafening silence that gripped the bridge since they left. "We should be breaking the old man out of prison or something."
Suran's dry tone responded, "Need I remind you, Lieutenant, that we are no longer a band of criminals?"
"That's the problem with going respectable, I guess," he said softly. "I'm going to miss being able to reach out and slap someone when we have good reason to. And I think this is a really good reason."
"Nothing's stopping you from forming your own little group, there, Bobby," noted Laramie. "Feel free to resign your hard-earned commission and go buy your own ship."
Bobby sat quietly after hearing that. With the helm on an automatic course back toward their designated territory within the former demilitarized zone, he had no need to actually touch the console. Instead, he sat back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. "Just don't think it's right. He should be here to enjoy this."
"Captain Kincaid elected to do the right thing for everyone," Suran said, almost tonelessly. "He will have to take his enjoyment within Starfleet's custody."
Laramie added, "And our new government may just have to start petitioning the Federation to commute his sentence. After all, he is a former member of the Maquis."
"Unfortunately, the captain elected not to resign his commission at the time he left," Suran explained. She turned her chair toward he de facto executive officer and continued, "Therefore, he is still a serving member of Starfleet, though without any authority. He is their responsibility, right now."
Bobby's hands moved to the console once more. "We're now passing the outer marker to the new headquarters facility, sir." He smiled. "Haven't had to remember ranks in a long while. Somehow, it seems like old hat, doesn't it?"
As the rest of the bridge crew descended into their own conversations and speculations on the future they've carved out for themselves, Suran chose to turn her attention to her padd. Upon it, was her new orders to report to a different ship as its commanding officer, but when she flipped the screens to show a new document, it showed the beginnings of a plan to secure Kincaid's release from a Federation penal colony.
Colonial Defense Vessel (CDV) Shrike
The recently reflagged corvette Shrike hung in space along with the other now-recognized elements of the newly-formed Colonial Navy. Moments after the negotiated Treaty of Gibraltar was signed and took effect, all former members of the Maquis were given the opportunity to join the new defense force, including those aboard Kincaid's former flagship.
Captain Suran sat within the center seat on the command deck of Shrike, while Commander Madge Laramie monitored the ship's power outputs from the engineering console to her left. The departure from the assembled task force was bittersweet for everyone aboard, and while they felt like celebrating, the success came at a high cost for them all.
"It just isn't the same," said Lieutenant Bobby Easterbrook from the helm. His words shattered the deafening silence that gripped the bridge since they left. "We should be breaking the old man out of prison or something."
Suran's dry tone responded, "Need I remind you, Lieutenant, that we are no longer a band of criminals?"
"That's the problem with going respectable, I guess," he said softly. "I'm going to miss being able to reach out and slap someone when we have good reason to. And I think this is a really good reason."
"Nothing's stopping you from forming your own little group, there, Bobby," noted Laramie. "Feel free to resign your hard-earned commission and go buy your own ship."
Bobby sat quietly after hearing that. With the helm on an automatic course back toward their designated territory within the former demilitarized zone, he had no need to actually touch the console. Instead, he sat back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. "Just don't think it's right. He should be here to enjoy this."
"Captain Kincaid elected to do the right thing for everyone," Suran said, almost tonelessly. "He will have to take his enjoyment within Starfleet's custody."
Laramie added, "And our new government may just have to start petitioning the Federation to commute his sentence. After all, he is a former member of the Maquis."
"Unfortunately, the captain elected not to resign his commission at the time he left," Suran explained. She turned her chair toward he de facto executive officer and continued, "Therefore, he is still a serving member of Starfleet, though without any authority. He is their responsibility, right now."
Bobby's hands moved to the console once more. "We're now passing the outer marker to the new headquarters facility, sir." He smiled. "Haven't had to remember ranks in a long while. Somehow, it seems like old hat, doesn't it?"
As the rest of the bridge crew descended into their own conversations and speculations on the future they've carved out for themselves, Suran chose to turn her attention to her padd. Upon it, was her new orders to report to a different ship as its commanding officer, but when she flipped the screens to show a new document, it showed the beginnings of a plan to secure Kincaid's release from a Federation penal colony.
The Chains of Error - Epilogue
Epilogue
Office of the Deputy Chief of Starfleet Intelligence
Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco, Earth
Since the news of Ariel Elannis' death, Rear Admiral Krystine Leone cleared a majority of her working schedule at the recommendation of her superior officer. In spite of her reputation, those who knew Ariel well within the offices at Starfleet Headquarters knew her to be a vivacious officer and very friendly. The loss of their colleague had an immediate effect on the general mood of those serving the Deputy Chief of Starfleet Intelligence directly. And of course, the Deputy Chief, herself.
Ariel's family held a memorial service just outside of Lunaport City. Nearly every member of Leone's family attended, including her mother and father, her aunts and uncles. The only missing member was her son, Dominic, on assignment with the starship Indomitable near the Klingon border.
The Starfleet contingent appeared, including those officers who served with her in the past. From the officers such as Admiral T'Cirya (retired), Captain Petra Bartlet, Commanders Gregory Aspinall and Abigail Atheron, to the more senior enlisteds like Master Warrant Officer Andrew Reynolds and Master Chief Petty Officer Tallan. Gallant's crew made the service just int time; along with members of the SMT that fought alongside Ariel when she fell in battle. Pava Lar'ragos, Carolyn Kircheis, and Merrit Kelley attended. Even Jesse Kincaid, still under guard, paid his respects in full dress uniform.
With the service completed and the office slowly returning to normal, Leone had the duty of dealing with her former executive officer.
Kincaid stood before her desk without his hands bound. For this meeting, he was ordered to lose his dress uniform and wear a prisoner's jumpsuit. Being held within the headquarters detention center for the time being, she felt that the courtesy she extended on behalf of Ariel expired.
Leone's eyes gave him a lingering once-over. After, she dropped her gaze to her desktop terminal and with an outstretched finger, she activated it. With a resigned sigh, she gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk and asked, "Why don't you sit down?"
Surprised by the invitation, Kincaid blinked once, and did so. "Thank you, Admiral."
"I've been reviewing the reports from Captains Sandhurst and Kircheis. They cite that you voluntarily turned yourself in after the conclusion of the negotiations," Leone said matter-of-factly.
"With Galmesh running roughshot over Starfleet in the name of the Maquis," Kincaid replied in a respectful tone, "I had to do something to show that we were serious about peace. I had no idea about his Romulan handler, though. He held that card pretty close to his vest."
Leone felt a quick, angry retort float to the surface of her mind. She opened her mouth to let it escape, but closed it before it could. She brought her tired eyes to look at Kincaid once more and felt the anger melt away as she considered the whole story. "I'm sure had you known, you would've done something about it."
Again, Kincaid could not keep his expression from showing his surprise. He stammered out, "I... uh, yes, of course. Absolutely."
"In spite of what you've done, Jess," she said, reverting back to the nickname she used during their time together on Farragut, "I know you well enough to say that about you. But, even though you might've averted another ten years of war in the DMZ, you still have a lot to answer for and there's very little I can do about that."
Kincaid never broke eye contact with her. He stared directly into her eyes and nodded. "I know, sir. I'm ready to face the music, now that my job is done."
Leone looked down at the orders she had drawn up. They clearly indicated that he would be remanded to the Judge Advocate General's office for a general court-martial to face charges of theft, absent without leave, dereliction of duty, and acts of sedition against the Federation. She'd had them drawn up before Ariel left in that runabout to pick up Sabrina Diaz on Starbase 375. They were the same orders she had on her when she died, having carried them on her person since she accepted them from Leone right in that very office.
The memory of that conversation and its bitter parting between old friends stung Leone hard. She felt her throat constricting once more and the light stinging of tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. She turned away to face the bookshelves behind her desk chair, and passed it off as looking for something. The spit and bile of her long-held anger at Jesse Kincaid was no where to be found, and instead replaced with the remorse of never being able to say a proper goodbye to her oldest and best friend.
Leone cleared her throat and picked up a padd laying on the shelf. She quickly composed herself before turning back around to face Kincaid. With her right hand, she reached out and deleted the order from the system. "What would you do, Jess? If you didn't have all these charges to live down. Go back to the Maquis-, I mean, the League of Sovereign Colonies? Return to Starfleet? What?"
Kincaid's eyes looked upward as though she were talking about a fantasy. "Might as well ask me what I would do with a million bricks of gold-pressed latinum, Admiral. I don't know what I would do, to be honest. Starfleet sounds appealing, but where the hell could I go? No captain would want me serving under him after what I did, even if all the charges were dropped. I would be radioactive."
"So, I guess that leaves the League, then?"
"I suppose so. But I would probably resign my commission. Properly, this time. And then go home and visit my family on Solossus. Maybe talk to the League and see if they have a consulting gig available," Kincaid rambled on as he considered all his options. "But mostly, it would be great to just relax for a little while."
Leone found her attention wandering as Kincaid speculated. Her thoughts continued to drift toward Ariel and the fact that there existed a large hole not only in her roster, but also her life. She tried to shake off the need to mourn her loss more, because it wasn't the time to do so, but the edges of her state of mind were tinged with the dark, gripping pain of that loss. Once she sensed that Kincaid finished his thoughts, she lifted her eyes up once more toward him.
"Relaxing sounds good," she said absentmindedly.
"Admiral?"
"Hmm?"
"Forgive me for saying so, but would you rather table this discussion until you've had a chance to recover?" He softened his tone. "I mean to say... the last few days have been pretty emotional."
Leone shook her head. "Negative," she told him flatly. "I'd prefer to handle this right away."
Kincaid sighed. "Of course, sir."
She leaned forward and tapped at the terminal a few times. "There's been a bit of a mix-up with the paperwork filing charges against you. It appears that the original memo sent to Starfleet Headquarters and the Bureau of Personnel was lost in maintenance cycle of the records database."
"Oh?"
"Technically, there are no charges filed against you at this time. However, if you would prefer, I can hold an Article 15 session right now and issue a summary judgment. Technically, you are still under my command, as you were transferred along with others when I departed Farragut five years ago," explained Leone quickly.
"I'm not sure that would be a good idea, Admiral. I mean, no offense, but you're hardly an unbiased authority," Kincaid noted with a chuckle on the word 'unbiased.' "But holding a session for non-judicial punishment seems like it might be a better way to go."
Leone said nothing as Kincaid considered the option.
He inhaled deeply and released it. "Might I inquire as to the nature of your intended judgment?"
"You can, but I won't answer the inquiry."
"Yeah, why would you?" He asked with a playful smirk.
"As I said earlier, seeing as how we've lost the formal charges, I see no reason to hold you any further. For now, I'm ordering you to report to a member of Starfleet Medical for a full physical and psychological examination." Leone began to enter in the orders as she spoke.
Kincaid tilted his head. "Uh, sir? Wait, am I free to go?"
"No, because you're still in Starfleet and you're on duty, for now." Leone leaned forward and spoke into the audio pickup. "Leone to Szostak. I'm sending you operational orders, and when you get a chance, I want you to send over the evaluating officer specified, right away."
Charity's voice sounded over the comms. "Aye, sir. Right away."
"Thank you. Leone, out."
The pace at which decisions were being made apparently disconcerted Kincaid, as he tiltled his head to one side and rose from his seat. "Sir, with all due respect, if there are no charges against me, then I'd like to resign my commission and be done with all this. I don't need to be medically evaluated like you're considering me for another assignment. I think you and I both know that's a waste of time and effort."
"Commander Kincaid," Leone began, now wearing a wide smile on her lips, "just because there aren't current charges doesn't mean I don't know how to write up new ones. Sit down and wait for the evaluating officer to arrive."
Kincaid closed his open mouth and sat down. "Yes... sir."
"Starfleet regulations require any personnel, prior to reintegration, to undergo a full medical examination," Leone replied slowly. "Now, the regulation doesn't say, except for those facing charges. We're going to execute this by the book, understand?"
The door annunciation system activated and chimed to indicate someone requesting entry.
Leone called out, "Enter."
After parting, in stepped a female medical officer wearing the three solid pips of a full commander. She wore her jet black hair in a long braid, with bangs coming down to just above her large dark brown eyes. In her accented tone, she looked right at Kincaid, but spoke to Leone, "Reporting as ordered, Admiral."
Kincaid turned to look at the new entry and immediately got to his feet. "Oh, my God," he breathed.
Without waiting for permission to do so, he stood up and walked to the medical officer. He reached down for her right hand and with his left he snaked his around the officer's back and guided her toward him in a tight embrace. When their heads parted to look at each other, he leaned in and kissed her deeply.
Leone blushed at the sudden display of affection. She grabbed a padd and lifted herself out of her desk chair. "Counselor, please take charge of Commander Kincaid's evaluation, if you would. Will seven days be enough for a complete report?"
Neither of them broke off their kiss, but she heard the counselor make an affirmative noise in between the sounds of their passionate smacking.
The admiral grinned, and looked away. "Then, if you both will excuse me, I have other work to see to. I will see you back here in a week, Commanders." Leone departed her office but heard the last exchange between the two officers before the doors closed.
Kincaid finally broke off their kiss and could not help his grin. "I can't believe it's you."
Counselor Isira Otex looked up into Jesse Kincaid's eyes and smiled.
"Welcome back, Imzadi."
*****
Leone stepped in close to Charity's desk and waved off the lieutenant when she rose out of respect for the admiral. She chucked a thumb back toward her door and said, "Give them a few minutes to get reacquainted and then make sure they're on their way after that."
"Aye, sir."
"Do it gently, please."
"Of course, sir."
The admiral sighed. "Do you have the mission profile for Vanguard?"
Charity looked through a couple of padds before selecting the proper one. "Right here, sir."
She accepted the padd and scrolled through the lines of information. "They're still looking for a captain to join," Leone noted aloud to herself.
"Yes, sir."
Leone applied some information to the padd's data and then handed it back to Charity. "Inform Starfleet Command that I'm recommending Captain Donald Sandhurst."
Charity looked down at the small screen before she returned her gaze to Leone. "Uh, sir, you're adding him to-"
"Yes, I am. Make sure the Corps of Engineers is aware, right away. I made a promise to him and I intend to keep it," Rear Admiral Leone said as she pulled away from Charity's desk and exited her outer office to start walking the corridors of Starfleet.
Even though the admiral was already well out of earshot, Charity smiled and replied, "Aye, aye, sir." She turned to the desktop terminal and began to tap out two memos.
One memo was sent to the admiral in charge of Task Force Vanguard.
The other was to the engineer in charge of Project Europa.
*****
Epilogue
Office of the Deputy Chief of Starfleet Intelligence
Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco, Earth
Since the news of Ariel Elannis' death, Rear Admiral Krystine Leone cleared a majority of her working schedule at the recommendation of her superior officer. In spite of her reputation, those who knew Ariel well within the offices at Starfleet Headquarters knew her to be a vivacious officer and very friendly. The loss of their colleague had an immediate effect on the general mood of those serving the Deputy Chief of Starfleet Intelligence directly. And of course, the Deputy Chief, herself.
Ariel's family held a memorial service just outside of Lunaport City. Nearly every member of Leone's family attended, including her mother and father, her aunts and uncles. The only missing member was her son, Dominic, on assignment with the starship Indomitable near the Klingon border.
The Starfleet contingent appeared, including those officers who served with her in the past. From the officers such as Admiral T'Cirya (retired), Captain Petra Bartlet, Commanders Gregory Aspinall and Abigail Atheron, to the more senior enlisteds like Master Warrant Officer Andrew Reynolds and Master Chief Petty Officer Tallan. Gallant's crew made the service just int time; along with members of the SMT that fought alongside Ariel when she fell in battle. Pava Lar'ragos, Carolyn Kircheis, and Merrit Kelley attended. Even Jesse Kincaid, still under guard, paid his respects in full dress uniform.
With the service completed and the office slowly returning to normal, Leone had the duty of dealing with her former executive officer.
Kincaid stood before her desk without his hands bound. For this meeting, he was ordered to lose his dress uniform and wear a prisoner's jumpsuit. Being held within the headquarters detention center for the time being, she felt that the courtesy she extended on behalf of Ariel expired.
Leone's eyes gave him a lingering once-over. After, she dropped her gaze to her desktop terminal and with an outstretched finger, she activated it. With a resigned sigh, she gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk and asked, "Why don't you sit down?"
Surprised by the invitation, Kincaid blinked once, and did so. "Thank you, Admiral."
"I've been reviewing the reports from Captains Sandhurst and Kircheis. They cite that you voluntarily turned yourself in after the conclusion of the negotiations," Leone said matter-of-factly.
"With Galmesh running roughshot over Starfleet in the name of the Maquis," Kincaid replied in a respectful tone, "I had to do something to show that we were serious about peace. I had no idea about his Romulan handler, though. He held that card pretty close to his vest."
Leone felt a quick, angry retort float to the surface of her mind. She opened her mouth to let it escape, but closed it before it could. She brought her tired eyes to look at Kincaid once more and felt the anger melt away as she considered the whole story. "I'm sure had you known, you would've done something about it."
Again, Kincaid could not keep his expression from showing his surprise. He stammered out, "I... uh, yes, of course. Absolutely."
"In spite of what you've done, Jess," she said, reverting back to the nickname she used during their time together on Farragut, "I know you well enough to say that about you. But, even though you might've averted another ten years of war in the DMZ, you still have a lot to answer for and there's very little I can do about that."
Kincaid never broke eye contact with her. He stared directly into her eyes and nodded. "I know, sir. I'm ready to face the music, now that my job is done."
Leone looked down at the orders she had drawn up. They clearly indicated that he would be remanded to the Judge Advocate General's office for a general court-martial to face charges of theft, absent without leave, dereliction of duty, and acts of sedition against the Federation. She'd had them drawn up before Ariel left in that runabout to pick up Sabrina Diaz on Starbase 375. They were the same orders she had on her when she died, having carried them on her person since she accepted them from Leone right in that very office.
The memory of that conversation and its bitter parting between old friends stung Leone hard. She felt her throat constricting once more and the light stinging of tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. She turned away to face the bookshelves behind her desk chair, and passed it off as looking for something. The spit and bile of her long-held anger at Jesse Kincaid was no where to be found, and instead replaced with the remorse of never being able to say a proper goodbye to her oldest and best friend.
Leone cleared her throat and picked up a padd laying on the shelf. She quickly composed herself before turning back around to face Kincaid. With her right hand, she reached out and deleted the order from the system. "What would you do, Jess? If you didn't have all these charges to live down. Go back to the Maquis-, I mean, the League of Sovereign Colonies? Return to Starfleet? What?"
Kincaid's eyes looked upward as though she were talking about a fantasy. "Might as well ask me what I would do with a million bricks of gold-pressed latinum, Admiral. I don't know what I would do, to be honest. Starfleet sounds appealing, but where the hell could I go? No captain would want me serving under him after what I did, even if all the charges were dropped. I would be radioactive."
"So, I guess that leaves the League, then?"
"I suppose so. But I would probably resign my commission. Properly, this time. And then go home and visit my family on Solossus. Maybe talk to the League and see if they have a consulting gig available," Kincaid rambled on as he considered all his options. "But mostly, it would be great to just relax for a little while."
Leone found her attention wandering as Kincaid speculated. Her thoughts continued to drift toward Ariel and the fact that there existed a large hole not only in her roster, but also her life. She tried to shake off the need to mourn her loss more, because it wasn't the time to do so, but the edges of her state of mind were tinged with the dark, gripping pain of that loss. Once she sensed that Kincaid finished his thoughts, she lifted her eyes up once more toward him.
"Relaxing sounds good," she said absentmindedly.
"Admiral?"
"Hmm?"
"Forgive me for saying so, but would you rather table this discussion until you've had a chance to recover?" He softened his tone. "I mean to say... the last few days have been pretty emotional."
Leone shook her head. "Negative," she told him flatly. "I'd prefer to handle this right away."
Kincaid sighed. "Of course, sir."
She leaned forward and tapped at the terminal a few times. "There's been a bit of a mix-up with the paperwork filing charges against you. It appears that the original memo sent to Starfleet Headquarters and the Bureau of Personnel was lost in maintenance cycle of the records database."
"Oh?"
"Technically, there are no charges filed against you at this time. However, if you would prefer, I can hold an Article 15 session right now and issue a summary judgment. Technically, you are still under my command, as you were transferred along with others when I departed Farragut five years ago," explained Leone quickly.
"I'm not sure that would be a good idea, Admiral. I mean, no offense, but you're hardly an unbiased authority," Kincaid noted with a chuckle on the word 'unbiased.' "But holding a session for non-judicial punishment seems like it might be a better way to go."
Leone said nothing as Kincaid considered the option.
He inhaled deeply and released it. "Might I inquire as to the nature of your intended judgment?"
"You can, but I won't answer the inquiry."
"Yeah, why would you?" He asked with a playful smirk.
"As I said earlier, seeing as how we've lost the formal charges, I see no reason to hold you any further. For now, I'm ordering you to report to a member of Starfleet Medical for a full physical and psychological examination." Leone began to enter in the orders as she spoke.
Kincaid tilted his head. "Uh, sir? Wait, am I free to go?"
"No, because you're still in Starfleet and you're on duty, for now." Leone leaned forward and spoke into the audio pickup. "Leone to Szostak. I'm sending you operational orders, and when you get a chance, I want you to send over the evaluating officer specified, right away."
Charity's voice sounded over the comms. "Aye, sir. Right away."
"Thank you. Leone, out."
The pace at which decisions were being made apparently disconcerted Kincaid, as he tiltled his head to one side and rose from his seat. "Sir, with all due respect, if there are no charges against me, then I'd like to resign my commission and be done with all this. I don't need to be medically evaluated like you're considering me for another assignment. I think you and I both know that's a waste of time and effort."
"Commander Kincaid," Leone began, now wearing a wide smile on her lips, "just because there aren't current charges doesn't mean I don't know how to write up new ones. Sit down and wait for the evaluating officer to arrive."
Kincaid closed his open mouth and sat down. "Yes... sir."
"Starfleet regulations require any personnel, prior to reintegration, to undergo a full medical examination," Leone replied slowly. "Now, the regulation doesn't say, except for those facing charges. We're going to execute this by the book, understand?"
The door annunciation system activated and chimed to indicate someone requesting entry.
Leone called out, "Enter."
After parting, in stepped a female medical officer wearing the three solid pips of a full commander. She wore her jet black hair in a long braid, with bangs coming down to just above her large dark brown eyes. In her accented tone, she looked right at Kincaid, but spoke to Leone, "Reporting as ordered, Admiral."
Kincaid turned to look at the new entry and immediately got to his feet. "Oh, my God," he breathed.
Without waiting for permission to do so, he stood up and walked to the medical officer. He reached down for her right hand and with his left he snaked his around the officer's back and guided her toward him in a tight embrace. When their heads parted to look at each other, he leaned in and kissed her deeply.
Leone blushed at the sudden display of affection. She grabbed a padd and lifted herself out of her desk chair. "Counselor, please take charge of Commander Kincaid's evaluation, if you would. Will seven days be enough for a complete report?"
Neither of them broke off their kiss, but she heard the counselor make an affirmative noise in between the sounds of their passionate smacking.
The admiral grinned, and looked away. "Then, if you both will excuse me, I have other work to see to. I will see you back here in a week, Commanders." Leone departed her office but heard the last exchange between the two officers before the doors closed.
Kincaid finally broke off their kiss and could not help his grin. "I can't believe it's you."
Counselor Isira Otex looked up into Jesse Kincaid's eyes and smiled.
"Welcome back, Imzadi."
*****
Leone stepped in close to Charity's desk and waved off the lieutenant when she rose out of respect for the admiral. She chucked a thumb back toward her door and said, "Give them a few minutes to get reacquainted and then make sure they're on their way after that."
"Aye, sir."
"Do it gently, please."
"Of course, sir."
The admiral sighed. "Do you have the mission profile for Vanguard?"
Charity looked through a couple of padds before selecting the proper one. "Right here, sir."
She accepted the padd and scrolled through the lines of information. "They're still looking for a captain to join," Leone noted aloud to herself.
"Yes, sir."
Leone applied some information to the padd's data and then handed it back to Charity. "Inform Starfleet Command that I'm recommending Captain Donald Sandhurst."
Charity looked down at the small screen before she returned her gaze to Leone. "Uh, sir, you're adding him to-"
"Yes, I am. Make sure the Corps of Engineers is aware, right away. I made a promise to him and I intend to keep it," Rear Admiral Leone said as she pulled away from Charity's desk and exited her outer office to start walking the corridors of Starfleet.
Even though the admiral was already well out of earshot, Charity smiled and replied, "Aye, aye, sir." She turned to the desktop terminal and began to tap out two memos.
One memo was sent to the admiral in charge of Task Force Vanguard.
The other was to the engineer in charge of Project Europa.
*****
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And that's a wrap, folks!
-- ZC
-- ZC
*Thunderous applause*
Bravo! Bravo!
This has been a thoroughly enjoyable tale - well written and gripping from beginning to end. Aside from the wholesale slaughter of favorite characters
(to which CeJay has alluded) I count this as one of my all time favorite fan-fic tales. By the way, you guys owe me a Border Service cutter. I'll forward you the bill. 
Great job tying up the threads in the epilogue - there were some obvious surprises and ominous overtones and a not-so-subtle hint that we haven't seen the last of Pava.
This is all the more laudable considering this was a collaborative effort. As one who has tried (and failed) to complete a collaborative story, I tip my hat to you both. Superlatives fail me, suffice it to say - "you both done good."
Bravo! Bravo!
This has been a thoroughly enjoyable tale - well written and gripping from beginning to end. Aside from the wholesale slaughter of favorite characters
(to which CeJay has alluded) I count this as one of my all time favorite fan-fic tales. By the way, you guys owe me a Border Service cutter. I'll forward you the bill. Great job tying up the threads in the epilogue - there were some obvious surprises and ominous overtones and a not-so-subtle hint that we haven't seen the last of Pava.
This is all the more laudable considering this was a collaborative effort. As one who has tried (and failed) to complete a collaborative story, I tip my hat to you both. Superlatives fail me, suffice it to say - "you both done good."
Thank you, kind sir! I'm pleased you enjoyed it.*Thunderous applause*
Bravo! Bravo!
This has been a thoroughly enjoyable tale - well written and gripping from beginning to end. Aside from the wholesale slaughter of favorite characters
Great job tying up the threads in the epilogue - there were some obvious surprises and ominous overtones and a not-so-subtle hint that we haven't seen the last of Pava.
This is all the more laudable considering this was a collaborative effort. As one who has tried (and failed) to complete a collaborative story, I tip my hat to you both. Superlatives fail me, suffice it to say - "you both done good."
Re: The Chains of Error - Epilogue
And as they were originally established as Federation colonies, they've elected to maintain that designation as independant worlds in deference to the sacrifices made by those planets to free those worlds from Cardassian, Dominion, and Federation rule.
Thanks for the review!
Hey, we didn't name them, the Maquis did!
And as they were originally established as Federation colonies, they've elected to maintain that designation as independant worlds in deference to the sacrifices made by those planets to free those worlds from Cardassian, Dominion, and Federation rule.
Thanks for the review!
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Wow...Pava might be Section 31? Can't say I'm surprised. Even if he's not, he sure was spouting their party line. And it sounds like he's not going to get that redemption anymore if he's just going to be sent right back to Romulus after his time on Vulcan.
As cold as it is, Sandhurst did the right thing rejecting him again. I don't consider myself any sort of idealist, but there are lines "even" I wouldn't cross. (Hmm...that could be a good description of Sandhurst, too.)
What's scary is it really sounded like Pava was threatening him--like he may now hold a grudge and be Sandhurst's enemy. And as Captain Aurelia knows, having Section 31 as your personal enemy is NOT a good thing.
So overall, I don't know whether to be optimistic for Sandhurst's future, or very scared at the end of this.
Good work overall, though.
As cold as it is, Sandhurst did the right thing rejecting him again. I don't consider myself any sort of idealist, but there are lines "even" I wouldn't cross. (Hmm...that could be a good description of Sandhurst, too.)
What's scary is it really sounded like Pava was threatening him--like he may now hold a grudge and be Sandhurst's enemy. And as Captain Aurelia knows, having Section 31 as your personal enemy is NOT a good thing.
So overall, I don't know whether to be optimistic for Sandhurst's future, or very scared at the end of this.
Good work overall, though.
Pava's not Section 31, in fact he doesn't know any more about the organization than Sandhurst does... he just tends to hold similar beliefs about the sanctity of the Federation's security.
Lar'ragos was simply telling Sandhurst that no matter how many times Donald casts him out, that all he need do is ask and Lar'ragos will come running back.
Loyal as a puppy, that guy.
Thanks for reading and reviewing, Nerys!
I'm glad Sandhurst hasn't made an enemy out of Pava...that helps me feel better about the ending.
Awesome job, guys.
The epilogue here was very fitting and I appreciate that a Gibraltar story ends on a high-note for a change. Thanks to Michael I'm sure ...
The Pava/Donald story clearly isn't resolved and that is a good thing. But the way they left things gives me hope for the future of their friendship. Hey, even in a bromance you gotta take a break from time to time.
I liked the Kircheis scene on the Gallant and her reflection on Ariel. Even better, I thought, was the Leone/Kindcaid scene. Now I wonder what will be in store for the disgraced Starfleet officer.
And lastly, y'all did a great job at whetting our appetite for Task Force Vanguard which certainly has the feel of the Next Big Thing.
Of course I also now fully expect to get more FSA stories to fill the missing gap between the Farragut years and this story. Gotta soak up as much Ariel as I can before she's gone for good.
Oh yeah, and I recall a little Gibraltar story called Gravity I'd like to see again. What are the chances on that now that this and the equally excellent Treacherous Waters is wrapping up?
The epilogue here was very fitting and I appreciate that a Gibraltar story ends on a high-note for a change. Thanks to Michael I'm sure ...
The Pava/Donald story clearly isn't resolved and that is a good thing. But the way they left things gives me hope for the future of their friendship. Hey, even in a bromance you gotta take a break from time to time.
I liked the Kircheis scene on the Gallant and her reflection on Ariel. Even better, I thought, was the Leone/Kindcaid scene. Now I wonder what will be in store for the disgraced Starfleet officer.
And lastly, y'all did a great job at whetting our appetite for Task Force Vanguard which certainly has the feel of the Next Big Thing.
Of course I also now fully expect to get more FSA stories to fill the missing gap between the Farragut years and this story. Gotta soak up as much Ariel as I can before she's gone for good.
Oh yeah, and I recall a little Gibraltar story called Gravity I'd like to see again. What are the chances on that now that this and the equally excellent Treacherous Waters is wrapping up?
Oh, yeah, count me in on wanting to see more Gravity, too. 
Again (as noted in the "Treacherous Waters" thread), my apologies for the quasi-necro post, but I just finished re-reading "Chains of Error" from the beginning. I had forgotten how powerful this work was, as well. I've posted my thoughts on many earlier scenes, but did want to comment on the endings you devised. What can I say, except ... wow! The death of Elanis caught me completely off guard. I never expected it. And Pava's scenes with Donald outside the transporter room and then again in the lounge were incredibly affecting. I will confess, however, that after you were willing to take the very bold move of killing off a central character to the Full Speed Ahead series, I was a little surprised at the "storybook ending" you gave Kincaid. On the other hand, I can also see that his background could make for a very interesting character to work with going forward. That's not intended as "criticism" of your artistic choices, by the way; merely an observation as a reader. And I LOVED the set up for "Vanguard". Nicely done, gentlemen, and thanks for giving us a wonderful resolution to this story.
