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The Star Eagle Adventures: QD2 - State of Entanglement

Yeah, I'm not buying Garla's sudden change of heart, despite having just killed the nuGarla version of herself. Lif knows her better than that, or at least I hope he does. She strikes me as being just as cooperative (and dangerous) as Khan was to Kirk & Company in Into Darkness.

Michael's got his hands full trying to cope with his father and now whatever Jarik's up to over on the Ring. I'd hope he would have had his father secured involuntarily in Sickbay, but Michael continues to allow his father to run roughshod over him time and again. His professional judgment evaporates in his father's presence, but given all that his family has suffered that is at least understandable.

Wonderful stuff!
 
27


Garla had found a spare instigator uniform in her counterpart’s office after balking at the notion of undressing her doppelganger and putting on the dead woman’s clothing, and not just because it would have been difficult to hide the prominent tear in her jacket or the bloodstains.

Together they had stashed the other Garla in a closet and Lif thought, that after she had pulled on the black outfit and slightly adjusted her hair, she’d easily pass for her local alter ego, even if perhaps closer scrutiny would have revealed a few inconsistencies.

They were not significant enough, however, to raise suspicions with the guards manning the detention center in the basement of the building. Since Instigator Garla had apparently not shared any concern with her staff regarding a possible security breach, Lif and Garla managed to make their way to the detention center with relative ease, Garla only having to field a single question about her planned departure for the homeworld, which the trained spymaster had handled with confident aplomb, letting the assistant know that her departure plans were merely delayed rather than canceled outright which would have, no doubt, raised red flags.

After having gained access to the detention center, Lif was hardly surprised to find that it was mostly occupied by Outlanders of various races, predominantly with lupine T’aq, who apparently shared their more bellicose attributes with their counterparts in his universe. Judging by the sight of the many desperate and desolate faces of the prisoners, as well as their many physical scars, the Krellonians used torture and violence far more frequently, and perhaps even to better effect, than those of his Star Alliance. Or so he hoped for his own universe’s sake.

“We don’t treat Outlanders like this,” she said quietly after reading his facial expressions while they walked passed cell after cell packed with obviously mistreated prisoners.

“It isn’t that much better though,” he said, keeping his voice low as well to ensure they would not be overheard by the two guards who were escorting them through the complex.

“I was going to change all that.”

He remembered her plan of a stand-alone society in which Krellonians and the Outlanders were living entirely separately from each other. He hadn’t much cared for the idea when she had first proposed it to him. Ultimately, however, after seeing the direction their society was headed, he had started to believe that no matter how ugly of a solution it had seemed, perhaps it was better than none at all. It certainly was a preferred outcome to what they were witnessing here and a return to all-out slavery.

“Even if we find our way back,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s all over now.”

Lif had little time to ponder this further as the guards stopped in front of a cell that stood apart from all the others.

Inside he immediately spotted four familiar faces. He was relieved to find that the members of the away team were all seemingly unharmed, neither of them having been subjugated to Krellonian torturing efforts just yet.

Unfortunately, however, their holographic camouflage devices had been located and removed, revealing all four of them as obviously non-Krellonians.

Tazla Star stood nearest to the force field and must have heard the approaching footsteps. Sensy and the Vulcan Ivory were standing near the sidewall, with the red-bearded Niner looking almost casual with his large, muscular arms crossed in front of his broad chest and leaning against the partition. Violet was half sitting on a bare cot at the far end of the small cell, seemingly paying little attention to what was happening outside.

“You were correct, Instigator,” the guard captain said as he looked over his prisoners. “They are foreign spies. Considering their racial composition, they are most likely Federation agents. We were just about to commence interrogation to learn of their mission here.”

“That will not be necessary,” Lif said but then quickly regretted being so quick about it when he spotted the captain’s confused expression.

“I will deal with them personally,” said Garla. “I have my own methods to obtain information from uncooperative prisoners which are far more reliable than conventional means.”

She sounded so convincing, Lif wondered how much of this was an act and how much was in fact based on reality.

“As you wish.”

“Leave us.”

“Instigator, with all due respect, I don’t believe that would be a good idea. These people are clearly well-trained operatives. They would never have gotten this far otherwise.”

Garla turned on the man and looked him straight in the eye. “Forgive me, Chief Justicar, but it almost sounded as if you were implying that I am incapable of handling foreign spies and that they may possess skills superior to my own. Surely that could not have been your meaning, could it?”

He noticeably swallowed. As a sentinel operating for the Eye of Krellon in their universe, Garla was an imposing and powerful figure, no doubt in this reality Instigator Garla was not just respected but likely feared by her own people as well. “Of course not. We will be nearby should you require our assistance.”

“And deactivate all active and passive surveillance for this area. There shall be no permanent records of what is about to transpire here.”

He nodded and this time he followed her order without hesitation, contacting the control room via his communications device to instruct them to immediately cease all visual and other surveillance. Then he gestured to his fellow guard and they quickly walked back down towards the command post.

Garla waited until both men were out of earshot before she addressed Star. “I have to say, I am somewhat disappointed in the quality of Starfleet Intelligence operatives, seeing that you have managed to let yourself be imprisoned and have so far failed to overcome such a mundane obstacle without assistance.”

Star didn’t rise to the bait. “What makes you think I’m with Starfleet Intelligence?”

Garla stepped up closer to the force field until she stood almost exactly opposite the Trill. “Oh, but I can see it behind your eyes. The way you seem to constantly evaluate others, as well as your surroundings, speaks of a well-trained agent. If you aren’t active now, you were not too long ago.”

“I’ll get you out of this, Commander,” Lif said but then stopped short when he realized that there were no obvious controls to lower the force field nearby. “Just as soon as I figure out how.”

“There’s no need to hurry,” she said while keeping her eyes on Garla. “Sensy, the word is now.”

Lif looked back into the cell, slightly confused, only to see the SMT team leader step away from the wall to reveal that Ivory who had been standing directly behind him, had somehow managed to remove a panel on the wall and had her left hand buried deep inside it. She applied some pressure and the force field winked out.

Violet who had seemed mostly zoned-out just a moment before, sprang up into action, wielding a baton, ready to strike. Ivory had produced a tiny, matchbox-sized type-I phaser while Sensy revealed a hidden blade, glinting in the stark cell light. Lif had no idea how they had managed to conceal all that weaponry from the guards.

Star stepped out of the cell and right into Garla’s personal space, to her credit the Krellonian didn’t even flinch, hardly even showed surprise on her face. The Trill offered a little smile. “See, overcoming the obstacle isn’t the issue. It’s all about timing.”

“I guess I underestimated you, Commander,” Garla said, allowing a tiny bit of respect to seep into her tone.

She offered the Krellonian a nod and then stepped up to Lif. “It looks as if my confidence in you, however, has paid off, Lieutenant. I knew you’d come through for us and I didn’t want to complicate matters by an untimely escape attempt,” she said and then glanced back at Garla. “Can I assume you are with us and willing to return to Eagle now?”

“Don’t consider us allies,” she said. “But for now our goals are generally aligned. Chief amongst them is to get as far away as possible from this perverted version of my home.”

“First things first,” said Sensy who followed Star out of the cell along with his two fellow Niners. “We need to get out of this prison and back to the runabout.”

“We spotted a transporter station in the control room on our way here. But there are a lot of guards there. We won’t be able to just walk passed them with you,” Lif said.

“I hate to suggest this, but our only way out of here may be to create a diversion,” said the chief SMT operator and glanced towards the other cells.

Lif didn’t like the sound of this at all and shook his head. “Even if we managed to open those cells, in all likelihood it would end in slaughter. We can’t allow that.”

There was a moment of silence and Lif hoped that it was because they were trying to come up with an alternative plan, even if he was drawing nothing but blanks.

It was Garla who spoke up first. “I don’t see any other way. And let’s face it, these Outlanders would relish the chance to get some payback on their torturers. Their ultimate fate is most likely already sealed.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to speed it up for them,” Lif said and glanced at Star for support.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Lif, but if we want to get out of here alive, this is our best bet. And who knows, some of these prisoners might be able to escape as well.”

“And go where? The entire planet is a labor camp and we’ve already seen how the border force handles anyone who manages to get off-world.”

In the end, Lif lost the argument since both Star and Garla, for perhaps the first time ever, were on the same page. He knew he had no choice but to go along with it, no matter how much it pained him.

Ivory managed to gain access to the remaining force fields much the same way as she had gained access to the one to their cell, a design flaw Lif was sure the local security forces would address once all this was said and done.

“Get ready,” Sensy said, which was the signal for Lif and Garla to reach for their appropriated phasers, while the rest of the team relied on the weaponry they had managed to smuggle into the cell, including another telescopic baton which Violet had passed on to Star.

Sensy glanced at Ivory, giving her the wordless signal.

The force fields of the entire block shut down at the same time and a moment later so did the bright overhead lights in both the cells and the corridors outside. Nominal illumination was restored almost immediately via amber-colored emergency lighting which gave the entire prison an eerie, almost foreboding quality.

Star and the Niners marched down the corridor first, setting an example for the other prisoners which quickly got the idea as they began to flow out of their cells with newfound energy, anger and most of all, motivation. Garla had remained right, like penned up race hounds, the Outlanders had been straining for a start, and now that they were set free, they were like a rubber band released, shooting out of their pens with murder and hatred in their minds and hearts.

It didn’t take long at all for the Outlander prisoners to overtake Star and the Niners to barrel ahead like a crushing wave rolling over the totally surprised and unprepared guards.

Garla and Lif stayed mostly in the back, both of them understanding that they would likely make an incredibly inviting target to the enraged Outlanders.

With alarm sirens blasting, the guards quickly regrouped and now fully armed began to cut down the Outlanders en masse, but not without taking casualties themselves. Lif once again marveled at the quickness and athleticism of the T’aq, who used their strong hind legs to leap right into the middle of the guard formations and in lieu of weapons, used their sharp teeth to bite and rip at their jailers, causing horrific screams and vicious, bloody wounds, creating a scene which Lif was sure would provide fodder for weeks of disturbing dreams.

The Niners moved among the confusion and chaos like ghosts, which was remarkable considering how much they didn’t fit into this scene. Where the Outlanders were mostly a chaotic mob, the SMT assault was based on combat tactics, quickly identifying the lieutenants and senior officers who were giving the orders, and deftly taking them out of the picture first with a well-placed dagger to their side here, a baton strike to their kneecaps and heads there, or in Ivory’s case, using her superior physical strength and precision to twist a neck or two; no graceful nerve pinch for this Vulcan.

When Lif spotted an elder T’aq being caught dead to rights by a rifle-wielding guard, he didn’t even hesitate, and fired his phaser right at the Krellonian, causing his head to implode on itself. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he felt disgusted with himself, and yet, strangely, also relaxed about it all, as if this was a most natural cycle, which had begun when he had been forced to kill an Outlander in his universe, now having graduated to kill a fellow Krellonian in another as payback.

There was, of course, not much time to consider such philosophical concerns as he pushed forward, taking care to avoid being targeted by the prisoners as an enemy but also taking full advantage of any guard believing him to be an ally.

Garla moved as gracefully as he had witnessed her do the previous times they had been caught in combat. She was once more using her personal cloak to full effect, momentarily winking out of existence only to reappear behind a hapless guard to impale him with her blade or finish him with a phaser blast at point-blank range.

“Instigator, what is happening here?”

Lif could see that the chief justicar who ran the detention complex had managed to get behind her without her noticing his approach. Thankfully he was still too perplexed to realize that Garla was not on his side and killing his men indiscriminately.

“I’ve decided that I don’t much care for your attitude,” she said coolly and then pointed her phaser at his head and fired without delay, before stepping over his lifeless body, his eyes still wide open with a horrified and astonished expression on his face.

While the battle for the prison raged on behind them, Garla, Lif and the away team managed their way to the compact transporter alcove, likely designed for prisoner transfer. Lif immediately headed for the console, pushing the operator who had been efficiently disposed of by Star’s baton earlier aside. He shook his head when he realized that it wouldn’t help them escape the prison. “It’s been locked down.”

“I’m sure we can get around that,” said Garla and stepped up to the console. She activated the comm. unit and the face of a young officer appeared.

“Instigator,” he said, clearly surprised to see her face. “We have an emergency situation in the detention complex.”

“I would say so,” she shot back, wiping some of her victim’s blood off her face. “And things aren’t looking good down here. I need you to lift the transporter lockdown right now.”

This seemed to startle the young man. “Protocol dictates that in the case of a prison riot—“

“Don’t you dare lecture me on protocol,” she hissed. “If I were to come to harm because our incompetent security forces weren’t able to contain this situation, I will make sure you will be held personally accountable for your inactions. Perhaps protocol will come as a warm comfort to you on the day of your execution,” she said and then spat some more blood, including some of her own.

He nodded quickly, almost eagerly. “Lifting lockdown now.”

“Good, man,” she said and stabbed the comm. controls to turn them off. “It’s great to be loved,” she said to Lif. “But sometimes it’s far better to be feared.”

“Speak for yourself,” he said but was already focused on programming the transporter. “Done. I’ve set coordinates for the quarry. Ready to initialize.”

“Do it,” Star said and gestured for her people to step up on the transporter platform which they all did without delay, Star being the last to take her position, even waiting until Lif had entered the final command before leaping on the platform.

Moments later the prison and the chaos were gone, to be replaced by the frigid, blustery night in a quarry a few hundred kilometers away.

“There is a human saying that comes to mind right about now,” said Lif after he had materialized with the others not far from the runabout. “I think it goes something like this: From the frying pan into the fire.”

He thought it was an appropriate metaphor since they found themselves within the sights of at least a dozen heavily armed Krellonian soldiers who were seemingly investigating the shuttle Garla had used to get to Piqus. The team was led by a man with a face more than just familiar to him.

After all, it was his own.
 
Oh... shit. Awkward!

Those were some phenomenal action sequences which flowed flawlessly. I still don't trust Garla, but for the moment she seems to be headed in the away team's general direction, so to speak. That woman is still crazy dangerous, and dangerously crazy.

More, please, and soon!
 
Whoopsy-daisy. Awesome sequence! Loved how Star and co. already had an escape in progress. And now they've beamed into a new clustermug!

Yep, waiting for the rest, and soon!
 
28


Michael beamed back onto the Ring without any further delay, already mentally chastising himself for having lost sight of his priorities. Yes, he was concerned for his father’s wellbeing, but clearly bigger matters were afoot and he could no longer afford to be sidetracked. Not if there were people, like Jarik, waiting in the wings to take advantage while he was distracted.

Of course, his father’s warning which like everything else he ever did, had been rather cryptic, remained near the forefront of his thoughts as he materialized within the superstructure again.

DeMara was waiting for him there.

“What’s happening?”

She shook her head. “Things are getting tense,” she said. “I think you better get in there.”

He followed her back towards the invisible layer which separated their current surroundings with the control sphere located even deeper in subspace. The first thing he spotted as he was back within that enigmatic bubble that seemingly existed within an endlessly dark void was Jarik and Xylion, having an animated conversation. Or at least one of them seemed animated. While both men were of Vulcan heritage, Jarik did a much poorer job of hiding his emotions, likely due to his human side.

Perhaps even more concerning was the fact that Gene Edison stood next to Jarik, apparently agreeing with his logic as if battle lines had been drawn.

Nora Laas and the two SMTs watched on from the far edges of the sphere, with the security chief already having taken a few steps towards the arguing parties and considering them with increasing tension.

Bensu stood to the side, not getting involved. Being the first to spot his return, he made eye contact with Michael, silently imploring him to bring this conflict to an end.

Michael was determined to do exactly that. “Gentlemen, what seems to be the issue?”

Both Xylion and Jarik turned to look at him, Jarik spoke up first. “Good, you’re back. How is Jon?”

Michael thought he did an admirable job of not letting the irritation of Jarik using his father’s given name show. He wasn’t sure why it suddenly irked him so much. He knew the two of them had become close to each other over the years. Perhaps it was because he was beginning to wonder who was truly holding the power between those two men.

In the end, he resolved that it didn’t really matter who of them thought was in charge. He had already made it clear that for the remainder of this mission, he was the one calling the shots. “He’s better but weak. Doctor Katanga hasn’t been able to determine what has caused his recent illness.”

Jarik offered a grin. “Jon is a tough bastard. I’m certain he’ll be fine.”

“What is the situation here?” Michael said, eager to refocus everyone’s attention.

“Mister Jarik is insisting that we attempt to utilize the Prism artifact,” Xylion said.

“We have exhausted all other options,” Jarik quickly jumped in. “And I believe I have been more than patient with our cautious approach. But it is time to start taking some risks. The stakes are too high for us to simply sit here and do nothing while those aliens are drawing up plans to invade our universe.”

“I agree,” said Edison. “And we don’t even know for certain if your universe is truly the target. It could be mine.”

“Or any other of the infinite numbers out there,” said DeMara Deen.

Edison acknowledged this with a brief nod. “The point is, we are doing very little at present to find out. We are playing a reactive game when we should be proactive. Otherwise, by the time we get hit, it might already be too late.”

“It is also possible that by taking action, without having a full understanding of the situation, we may help aggravate and accelerate an already perilous condition,” said Xylion, clasping his hands calmly behind his back.

“Sometimes we have to take risks, I believe this is an acceptable one,” Jarik countered.

Michael turned to look at Xylion and then Bensu. “Have you been able to learn anything further?”

“Only what we already suspected. That this is a focal point of energy which may very well control the entire Ring,” said Bensu. “With Xylion’s help I could see the strands of pure energy and thought all around us but I have not been able to isolate and focus on any single one of them the way I was able to do before.”

“Because you are missing the tool to be able to do that,” said Jarik and then gave Michael another meaningful look.

“Let’s think this through,” Michael said. “The first time you activated the Prism in the vicinity of the Ring, it activated a gateway which threw us into another universe and caused significant damage to the ship and crew, we can’t risk that happening again without knowing how to prepare for it.”

It was Edison who shook his head. “The last time we activated it, we very nearly made contact with these subspace aliens. If we want more information, that’s the course we should be embarking on.”

“I agree we need to re-establish communications with them, but the cost of doing so, right here and now, is too high. Besides, my father is in no condition to come back over here to activate the Exhibitor. He’s the only one who can.”

Jarik offered a little sigh and then took a few steps away from Michael, making use of the space within the sphere. Then he turned back around, resolve now seemingly etched into his face. “Look, I hate to be the one saying this, but if you are not able to make these kinds of decisions than it is time that somebody else does.”

This caused Michael to tense and he could see Nora take another step closer to them. “What does that mean?”

“Gene and I spoke earlier,” he said, making brief eye contact with the other captain who offered a nod to underscore his support. “We believe we need to do this and we also agree that if you are not willing to pursue this action, I need to take operational command of this mission.”

Michael knew exactly what he was talking about. It had been something he had feared from the moment his father had come onto his ship. It had not been assuaged by his assurances that they had no intentions of overriding his decision or assuming overall command over his ship.

It was clear to him now that Jarik had never quite shared that mindset. In fact, in hindsight, he could see how he had attempted to take charge of the mission pretty much from the moment he had come aboard and now that he appeared to have found the backing of another starship commander, he was ready to make the move he had been itching to take ever since this had begun. “That is not going to happen.”

“Michael, please don’t make this difficult,” Jarik said, adopting a more soothing tone which almost reminded him of what he had sounded like back during their Academy days when they had been roommates and the closest of friends. It felt like a lifetime ago now.

“You can’t be serious? You are staging a mutiny and want me to simply acquiesce and step aside?”

He shook his head. “It’s not a mutiny when the decisions are made by a superior officer.”

“My father is your superior officer.”

“Not since he was declared dead.”

Michael glared at this former friend but said nothing.

Nora Laas very slowly stepped up next to her captain, her hand not quite on her phaser yet.

“Listen,” Jarik said, clearly noticing the Bajoran’s aggressive stance. “This doesn’t have to become ugly. But if you escalate this matter now, we may be going down a road we can’t come back from. The best thing for everyone is for you to agree to use the Prism. The alternative is that Gene and I will need to take action to do this with or without your help.”

“How exactly are you envisioning this will go?” Michael said trying very hard to keep his seething anger in check and not doing a great job at it. “I have my father who is the only one who can activate the Prism. I have Bensu and Xylion who are the only ones who can use it to communicate with these aliens. You have nothing.”

“I have this universe’s Eagle which is in far better shape than yours,” Jarik said, letting some emotion seep into his tone as well. “Captain Edison’s crew already has orders to take over your ship if necessary. Don’t let it come to that.”

Now Nora did pull her phaser and the two SMTs also brought up their weapons, taking aim at Jarik and Edison. Michael raised a hand to let them know to hold their fire. He wasn’t going to be the one to start shooting, no matter the threats being levied against him and his ship. “You’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you?”

“There is still a way to resolve this amicably,” he said. “But I am convinced that if we don’t take action now, billions of lives might be at risk. I’m ready to take whatever actions are necessary to safeguard these lives, even if you are not.”

“Gene, don’t do this,” Nora said with her phaser in hand, but for the moment resting against her leg. “We spoke about regrets. Don’t make this one of them.”

Surprisingly, Edison did seem torn by hearing her say this. But only for a moment. “It’s the right call, Lass. Sometimes we need to be strong enough to make the difficult calls no matter how ugly they may be. I wish I’d had that strength a few years ago. Things would have played out very differently if I had been more decisive. I will not repeat my mistakes.”

“This situation is completely different,” she said.

He shook his head. “I don’t think it is. But the stakes are so much higher which is why it so much more urgent that we act now.”

“We’re wasting time,” said Jarik. “You can shoot us if you want but it doesn’t change anything. The other Eagle will take action within the next few minutes unless we resolve our disagreements and you follow my lead.”

“This is coercion of the lowest form,” DeMara said and took a defiant step forward. “And not befitting a Starfleet officer.”

“What you call coercion, I call trying to save the universe the only way I see how.”

Michael found himself between a rock and a hard place with seemingly all good options suddenly off the table. Take decisive action now and force a potentially deadly confrontation with another ship which was equal to his own in all the metrics had it not been for the significant damage they had taken after traveling through the gateway, or, give into Jarik and Edison, let them have it their way, bring back his ailing father, risk his life and possibly creating another gateway which would not only cause further damage to his ship and crew but also, quite likely strand his away team in an unfamiliar universe.

All his instincts told him to go with option one and he certainly didn’t care for the idea of backing down. He also knew that if he took action now, he had to do so quickly to eliminate Jarik and Edison and then brace for the ensuing storm.

Somebody stepping into the sphere behind him caused Nora and the two SMTs to whip their weapons at a potentially new target.

Alendra stopped in her tracks, raising her hands in surprise. “Whoa, take it easy. It’s just me,” the Bolian woman said noticably taken aback by the hostile welcome.

Michael glanced at her for only a second before focusing on Jarik again who he considered the bigger threat for now. “Lieutenant, things are a little heated at the moment. What is it?”

It took her a moment to speak up and only after Nora and one of the Niners took their weapons off her to aim them at Jarik and Edison again. Charm, the Tellarite, kept his weapon on Alendra, apparently still considering her a potential target. The Bolian seemed to do her best to ignore this. “Our comms relay outside the subspace threshold just picked up a message from Agamemnon. Apparently, there is some concerning chatter coming from Krellonian territory and they are moving closer to investigate. Captain Donners is concerned this could escalate quickly.”

Michael considered the news for a moment and then addressed Jarik again. “This changes things, wouldn’t you say?”

But Jarik shook his head. “It changes nothing.”

“Are you sure?” He glanced towards Edison. “From my understanding of this universe, the border with Krellonian space has always been a hot spot. If things went badly with the mission, the away team, as well as Agamemnon could be in trouble.”

Jarik spoke up before Edison could. “That would be a shame, but remember that I cautioned against sending that away team. Any fallout will be on your head.”

But Michael kept his eyes on the other captain instead. “Are you really willing to risk Amaya over this as well? See, I’m not going to back down here, I guarantee you that. I think Jarik is wrong and I will stand by my decisions and convictions.” It was a calculated risk, Michael knew, to show his cards early, but differently to what Jarik seemed to think, he was not averse to taking risks, as long as they were justified.

“Gene, please,” Nora almost pleased. “Let’s do the right thing here. I don’t want this to escalate any further than it already has. I don’t want to have to fight you.”

Michael didn’t know if it had been him or Nora who had ultimately gotten through to Gene Edison, and in truth, it didn’t matter. The other man nodded. “I’m calling this off, at least for now,” he said, looking at Jarik.

“What? No.”

“I am not getting dragged into a battle here if Amaya may need our help out there,” he said and headed towards the edge of the sphere that would take him back to the Ring, Michael and Nora letting him pass. He stopped just before he had reached Alendra and turned around. “This conversation isn’t over, merely delayed. For now though, priorities have shifted.”

Michael nodded, agreeing to that compromise and suppressing the urge to utter a sigh of relief of just having avoided a painful conflict. “Let’s head out,” he said and then shot Jarik another glance. “You can stay here for all I care but you’re not coming back on my ship,” he said and then briefly glanced at the case Jarik still carried which contained the Prism, considering for just a moment to try and make a play for it. He decided against it. It was too powerful to keep it in the care of a man who had proven dangerous and unreliable, but he also had just narrowly avoided one crisis, no point in trying to force another one, he decided.
 
I totally forgot about Agamemnon! I'm glad that Amaya has unknowingly created a ceasefire between the respective captains for the time being.

Ah Jarik, Jarik, Jarik. You seedy, power-mad jackass. It's very apparent now more than ever that Michael got so wound up over his father that he dropped his guard. I suggest he start thinking like a soldier and come up with a way to deal with both Jarik and Captain Sunshine before they completely out maneuver him.

(Although it was nice to see Michael not caving into their threats.)

Standing by for more!
 
Yeesh, for a minute there I thought Michael was going to have to accede to Jarik's demands. Firing on Starfleet officers is a nightmare scenario, but battling your own dopplgangers would be infinitely worse.

Now that Jarik's played his card, though, Michael has some time to prepare for the inevitable confrontation. It appears alt-Edison has become the wild card in the equation.

Great stuff!
 
29


His counterparts reaction to seeing Lif materialize less than a hundred meters from where he stood with his men, investigating the abandoned Starfleet shuttles, was a fay cry from the way Instigator Garla had responded to coming across her double, leading him to believe that this universe’s Lif was much more volatile than he had ever been.

He could see the other man practically snarling at their sudden appearance. “Imposters,” he cried. “Federation spies,” he added and was the first one to bring up his weapons, even while his soldiers still appeared momentarily baffled at seeing him and Garla appear before them.

The transporter, unfortunately, had not deposited them immediately next to the runabout, instead, the away team found itself on the wrong side of a ravine, very much in the open and making them an easy target.

“Get to the runabout,” Star shouted even as she brought up a rifle she had appropriated from a prison guard earlier, fully realizing that considering the numbers they were up against, they stood little chance

Lif and the rest of the team set in motion, rushing towards the ravine.

“I want the imposters alive,” Lif heard his counterpart shout to his men, just before the firing started.

Ahead of him, the three Niners had already made it across the small plank bridging the gully and were returning fire. Lif didn’t turn around but from what he could hear, the SMT operatives had far better aim than the Krellonian security forces.

Star went across the makeshift bridge next but before Garla managed to get to it, she was struck and went down.

Lif quickly slid down in the dirt next to her. “Are you all right?”

Garla checked her shoulder where she had been hit but Lif could see no signs of a wound or blood. Instead, a small, circular tag seemed to have attached itself to her jacket.

She winced when she tried to pull it off. “It’s dug itself into my skin,” she said.

“What is it?”

“Looks like a transporter inhibitor,” she said. “Your counterpart seems serious about capturing us alive.”

Lif felt a sudden sting in his right arm and when he brought it up he realized that he had been tagged with a similar device.

He turned to look back. He could see that most of the soldiers had taken cover behind their own shuttle, three of their comrades had not made it behind cover in time.

The other Lif Culsten, either very bravely, or stupidly, was rushing towards them with three more soldiers. His escort kept their phaser fire focused on Star and the Niners on the other side of the ravine in order to attempt and suppress them, but his double was clearly zeroed in on him and Garla, seemingly desperate to capture them both now that he had ensured they could not beam away.

“Let’s go,” Garla said and pulled herself up. “Once we get to the runabout, these inhibitors won’t matter.

They reached the ravine shortly thereafter Garla rushed across the narrow plank first. But Lif hesitated, noticing that the simple board spanning the gap was beginning to show noticeable cracks.

“Lif, come on,” Garla urged him from the other side.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to hold,” he said after he tried to put just a single foot onto the wooden board and he could feel it give way under his weight. The gap was too wide to jump.

“No time, get down,” she yelled and brought up her weapon.

Lif looked around to see one of the soldiers close to reaching out to him. He immediately went low and not a moment later the solider was wiped off his feet by a well-aimed phaser blast from Garla’s rifle.

Too late did he realize that his counterpart had been just a step behind the felled soldier, close enough to see murderous anger in his eyes, the other him launched himself at Lif and both men tumbled backward and onto the plank.

It improvised bridge may have held one Lif but it had no chance against the combined weight of both of them crashing down on it. The wood tore apart with a loud crack and they tumbled down into the ravine.

The impact was softened only marginally by a shallow pool of dirty water at the bottom and was still forceful enough to expel any remaining air in his lungs, and painful enough to make him believe that he may have broken his back.

Lif had always liked to believe that his Krellonian bone structure was able to absorb a greater amount of damage than those of most of his humanoid colleagues and it seemed to him that he continuously found ways to put that theory to a test.

Far above him, he could see Garla looming down at them, yelling at him, but the hard landing had robbed him of his auditory senses.

She disappeared moments later since it was obvious from the blasts of phaser fire crisscrossing the rift above that the shootout hadn’t ceased just because he and his counterpart had tumbled down the ravine.

Fighting through the pain in his back, Lif managed to turn himself over on his stomach, his hands slipped on the wet and smooth ground. He found a way to drag himself out of the water and onto the drier shoulder. He spotted a Krellonina phaser where it had landed just a few meters away. When he heard a rustling sound, he turned his head to see that his counterpart had also come to, his eyes wide and still mirroring furious anger, likely only exacerbated after his fall. He had also spotted the phaser.

They both launched themselves at the weapon at what seemed like the exact same time. Lif’s entire body felt like it was on fire but adrenaline and survival instincts won out and his hand reached the handle of the weapon first.

It did him no good.

The other Lif was on him perhaps a nanosecond after, pulling him away from the phaser and causing it to slip from his fingers.

“You’re an imposter,” he shouted. “Are there no limits to the Federation’s audacity? Have you no shame?”

He shook his head. “This is not what this is,” he said but was cut off by the fist hitting his face.

Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, Lif thought of a joke about beating up on oneself and how painful of an experience that could be.

“Federation lies,” the enraged counterpart shouted, getting ready to keep pounding him.

Lif’s long honed reflexes as a pilot where split-second decisions were not uncommon, reasserted themselves and he pulled his head away, causing the other man to strike empty ground instead.

He tried to find the phaser again but couldn’t see it where he lay and decided he needed another way to turn the tables. Using the momentary distraction caused by the other Lif injuring his hand, he used his body as a weapon and launched himself at his opponent, sending them both rolling down the narrow shoulder and back into the water.

He quickly realized that while his piloting career had given him faster reflexes, his counterpart was a far more experienced fighter and stronger as well.

Using momentum gained from their roll and his superior strength, the other man lifted him back onto his feet and pushed him hard into the side of the ravine, causing Lif to scream out in pain as he felt the jagged rocks being driven into his back.

The other Lif hesitated, taking a moment to study his opponent more closely. He reached up to touch Lif’s bloodied face. “By the Creator, what are you?”

“I can explain,” Lif said in-between coughing fits. As the adrenaline was starting to subside, his body was beginning to shut down.

But his double had no such patience and his grip became like a vise, ripping at Lif’s face as if offended by its mere existence and causing him to scream in pain once more.

A shadow fell over both men and Lif thought he could hear a rushing sound approaching. They both looked up.

Somebody was coming down, seemingly gliding out of the sky.

He knew exactly what he was looking at, after all, he had seen this in action not too long ago in a very similar and yet entirely different place.

His counterpart was a far more surprised by seeing the purple-haired woman swooping down towards them wearing gravity boots.

Lif took the chance to head butt the other man which he was certain must have hurt him just as much as it had hurt Lif. But the surprise of the sudden impact had forced his counterpart to stumble backward.

He recovered quicker than Lif had anticipated and with his back in pain and his face bleeding from being torn at, he wasn’t in much of a shape to offer resistance.

“Mind if I cut in here,” Violet said from above and aimed her boot thrusters right into the other Culsten’s face, causing the man to howl and dive for the shallow stream to cool off his burned face.

She came to a hover less than a meter above Lif and reached out with a hand. “Need a ride?”

He nodded eagerly. His last experience of being a passenger on gravity boots hadn’t exactly been pleasant but he was more than ready to leave this place and never ever set foot on a planet called Piqus ever again.

He took her hand as she continued to descend towards him, placed one foot on her hovering boot and held on tightly. Remembering the last time he had done so, when Nora had been his savior, and she had complained about how tight he had pressed himself against her, he offered the Niner an apologetic look.

The Boslic woman just smirked at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not the squeamish type.”

But Lif’s concern quickly refocused when he realized that his counterpart had recovered again and had found the phaser, bringing it up to take a shot at them both. “Watch out.”

Violet must have seen the danger from the corner of her eye and yet was not quick enough to bring her own rifle up to fire first. Instead, she jerked sideways, trying to avoid the incoming blast. It still struck her shoulder and she was forced to let go of her weapon which fell out of her hand.

The impact pushed them both backward and Lif once more struck the rock wall painfully, along with his would-be rescuer.

“Hang on,” she shouted as the impact had caused her to momentarily lose control of the boots and they blasted forward and right into the surprised other Culsten, knocking him over in the process.

Violet regained her balance and they began to gain altitude.

But there ascend was arrested when Lif felt something holding him down.

“You’re not going anywhere, Imposter,” he screamed while he held on to Lif’s right boot with both hands, his weight enough to keep them both suspended in mid-air.

“Can’t shake him free,” she said.

“Give me some slack,” Lif responded.

She seemed to understand and reduced the thrust of the boots, causing them to slowly drop back towards the ground.

“I’m going to rip you apart and find out what you truly are,” the other Culsten roared angrily as he eagerly watched their descend towards him.

“There’s something that people have been saying about me lately,” Lif said to his enraged counterpart as he continued to draw nearer. “I think it’s doubly true for you. You have a real attitude problem,” he said just before he smashed his boot into the other man’s face with as much force as he could.

Culsten let go and dropped to the ground while Violet and Lif shot into the sky.

They were immediately greeted by phaser fire from the remaining soldiers who had taken cover behind the shuttle. It was promptly answered by a phaser blast from the runabout which was now hovering a good ten meters above the ground.

The blast ripped the shuttle to shreds, killing several soldiers instantly and causing others to scramble for additional cover.

Violet steered them towards the runabout’s open airlock where Garla was already waiting to pull them both inside.

“Are you all right?” she asked as she took a knee where he had collapsed against the bulkhead of the airlock. “You look terrible.”

“Pay no attention to that. Truth is, I feel so much worse.”

Garla and Violet helped him inside the cockpit of the Nebuchadnezzar to allow the outer door to close.

Star was sitting at the controls and through his blurred vision, he could already see the planet’s ubiquitous cloud cover approaching rapidly, Star having wasted little time to get them back towards space. She turned the pilot seat to look at him. “Is he okay?”

“Judging by the return of his insufferable wit, I’d say he’s fine,” Garla said.

Ivory had provided him with a towel and was using a medkit to treat his wounds while he looked up at Garla from the chair they had placed him in. “I always thought you liked my wit.”

“It was never your most endearing attribute,” she said but offered him a smile.

“I’d love to say the worst is behind us but I’m afraid that might not be strictly accurate,” Star said after she had turned back to the controls.

The runabout had already cleared the atmosphere and was racing away from Piqus VII’s gravity well to allow Star to activate the warp engines.

“I am already detecting signs of pursuit,” she said, studying her instruments. “A lot of it. Seems like we kicked the proverbial hornet’s nest.”

“My counterpart will not let us go without a fight. The man has some serious anger issues. It was written all over his face,” Lif said, nodding gratefully at the Vulcan operative who had finished using a dermal regenerator to heal his more obvious wounds and had also administered an analgesic via hypospray which had numbed him of the worst of the pain.

“In fairness, I don’t think I would be too happy if I was in his shoes right now either,” Garla said.

“Talk about déjà vu,” said Lif and then spotted his aunt’s quizzical look and realized that it was not a term that easily translated into Krellonian. “We’ve been through this already. Except for last time you actually were in his shoes while we were running for our lives from you. How does it feel to be on the other side of things?”

She shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t care for it at all.”

Lif felt the runabouts deck plates rumble slightly and then looked back towards the viewport to confirm that they had just jumped to warp speed.

He gingerly got up off his chair to join Star at the front. He needed Garla’s help to keep himself steady though. “Transfer controls to me, Commander. That’ll free you up to keep an eye on sensors.”

The Trill considered him for a moment as if to check if he was truly up to this after what he had just been through but apparently was convinced enough by his resolve and did as he had asked.

To Lif, few things came more easily to him than flying a starship and he didn’t need his still aching bones or back to do that.

“I’m reading multiple vessels in pursuit,” she said. “Long-range sensors have also picked up border patrols ships closing in on us.” She turned to look at him. “Can we make it to the Moebius Cluster?”

He shook his head. “Not if we want any chance of outrunning our pursuers. I think we go for a straight shot and try to get to the border before we get cut off,” he said as he reviewed the best course back into the Amargosa Diaspora and towards Federation space.

Star nodded in agreement. “Let’s do it. I don’t think we’re going to lose our pursuers at the border but with any luck, we might be able to get back to Agamemnon before they catch-up with us.”

Lif quickly entered the new course and throttled-up the engines.

“Don’t count on the Lif Culsten of this universe to be as easily deterred as I was,” said Garla as she had taken a seat at one of the aft stations to monitor the pursuing ships. She activated a few panels and after a moment Lif’s monitor displayed what she had already discovered, his eyes opening wide.

“They’re not just scrambling a few ships,” Garla said. “That’s an entire fleet, big enough for a serious incursion. Agamemnon will not be enough to turn back that tide.”
 
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Man, what a harrowing escape. And again, poor Lif! His home world just keeps kicking him in the ass, doesn't it?

Great action scenes and a well executed build up. I appreciate the layers of plot. It isn't just an AU travel story, which would have been the easier approach, it's also about Lif and Garla being forced to confront both their choices and their prejudices regarding the Alliance. Much of the stage was set for this in the previous tales.

On top of all that, we have an alien invasion and some cloak and dagger intrigue. I applaud all the thought and planning that went into this.

Awaiting more.
 
Oh, hell... now they've inadvertently started a war! :(

Good work by Lif fighting for his life against his doppleganger. I like how you acknowledged his alt-self was a better trained fighter, given his upbringing, but that Lif's reflexes were faster due to his own skill set.

As always, you've managed to ratchet the tension even higher. Kudos!
 
30


He had to restrain himself from pacing the length of the bridge as Eagle raced towards Krellonians space since the latest news from Amaya and long-range sensors were not painting a rosy picture.

At last count, eight Krellonian cruisers were hot on the heels of the Nebuchadrezzar which was making best speed out of Krellonian territory and to a rendezvous with Agamemnon within the Amargosa Diaspora.

Eagle, along with her sister ship from the local universe, was heading to the very same rendezvous from the opposite direction and all current estimates seemed to indicate that they would arrive almost concurrently with the runabout and her pursuers.

Michael understood that a conflict seemed near-inevitable and he would have preferred to try and level the playing field by arriving ahead of the Krellonians to get the lay of the land, as it were, and prepare their defenses. The uniquely challenging environment of the Diaspora, however, made it a physical impossibility to push their engines any faster, and even at their current speed, helmsman Srena noticeably required all her focus and concentration to keep them steady at warp nine point eight.

Edison’s Eagle either didn’t have a pilot quite as skilled as the young Andorian or had not received the same warp core overhaul his ship had recently been given and therefore remained a few minutes behind them. Michael was painfully cognizant that the other Eagle not being able to keep up would put them at a significant disadvantage should it come to a fight.

“We are sixty seconds out from Agamemnon,” said DeMara Deen from her station at operations, her body language much more tense than usual, clearly anticipating a confrontation as well.

Michael turned to look towards his second officer who recently had subbed more frequently as the ship’s de facto XO. “How about the runabout?”

Xylion glanced up from the aft science station. “The Nebuchadrezzar will arrive at the rendezvous point eight point seven seconds after we have dropped out of warp. The first Krellonian vessels are expected to arrive approximately twenty-two seconds thereafter.”

“What’s the count up to now?”

Leva took that one. “Eight vessels initially, all large-sized cruisers. A super-cruiser and additional support craft are less than two minutes behind.”

Michael nodded slowly, not letting his growing concern be mirrored on his face. According to what he had learned from Edison, Krellonian ships were mostly equal in tactical abilities to Starfleet vessels and while full-out conflicts had been rare in previous years, this universe’s Starfleet Intelligence did believe that they were building up their fleet for a possible incursion deeper into Amargosa and perhaps even into Federation-held territory. Those reports had been the primary reason for Agamemnon and the other Eagle’s presence in the sector and before they had stumbled across the unexpected, inter-dimensional arrival.

The latest numbers suggested that they were outnumbered at least three to one which were certainly not favorable odds.

Edison, Donners, and Michael didn’t have much time to hatch a plan which in the end had turned out to be rather simple: Recover the runabout and find a way to talk the Krellonians out of creating an incident which could very well lead to interstellar war. Michael could not help but be reminded about the oft-recited adage relating to well-laid plans. He wasn’t sure if there was a saying for hurriedly crafted plans but if so, he was positive it was even more discouraging.

“We’re approaching the Agamemnon, now,” said Deen, her steely gaze focused on her instruments.

“Dropping out of warp,” said Srena. Although she was Eagle’s number two helmsman behind Culsten, and younger than the Krellonian, she was every bit as good a pilot and didn’t need to be told what to do in a crisis situation.

On the viewscreen, the streaking starfield disappeared suddenly, to be replaced by the image of the Agamemnon. It was impossible to tell by sight but Michael got the sense that she was primed and ready for a fight.

Michael had long since learned that in outer space, where distances were vast, it was unusual for things to happened quickly and battles, in particular, were often slow-developing and long, drawn-out affairs. Fast, high energy confrontations between many different ships zooming around hither and thither were much more common in fictional accounts, like holo-novels, than something one came to expect in real-life situations.

There were expectations, of course, and on this occasion, things happened very quickly.

“The Nebuchadrezzar just jumped out of warp,” Deen said.

Michael could see the small runabout streaking onto the screen just between Eagle and Agamemnon. She immediately came about to head directly back towards her mothership.

“Three minutes to touchdown in the shuttle bay,” the Tenarian said.

That would take too long, Michael decided. “Expedite that any way you can. I don’t care if we violate a few safety protocols in the process. I’ll take it up with the air boss later.”

She offered a quick nod. “Srena, bring us about so that the shuttle bay doors are facing the runabout. Let’s give her the shortest possible approach.”

“Rotating now,” the Andorian ensign said as her fingers raced over the attitude controls.

While the ship twisted around its axis, thankfully somebody had remembered to keep the viewscreen focused in place, allowing a continued view of the approaching Nebuchadrezzar and the Agamemnon beyond.

“Hail her,” said Michael.

Moments later the main section of the viewer changed to show the cockpit of the runabout while the external view was relegated to a smaller inset in the upper left corner. On the runabout, Culsten sat at the helm and Star next to him. Michael could also spot Garla in one of the back seats. The fact that she was not restrained or under guard by any of the SMTs was encouraging and told him that she had likely returned with the away team voluntarily.

It wasn’t difficult to tell that Culsten seemed rather banged up, possibly even injured, considering the still bloody scratches on his face.

“Your mission was to return with Garla, Commander. We didn’t really plan for half the Krellonian fleet you’ve brought along for the ride,” he said with a deadpan.

She nodded to acknowledge the inconvenience. “Trust me, sir, these party crashers definitely didn’t get any invites from me. However, it seems they didn’t take too kindly to our little infiltration mission.”

“We’ll find a way to make do,” he said. “I take it you were otherwise successful.”

Star briefly glanced behind her and at Garla before she turned back. “I wouldn’t call it the smoothest operation I’ve ever executed but we got what we came for and besides a few scrapes and bruises we got out relatively unharmed.”

Leva interrupted the conversation. “Sir, we’ve got eight ships dropping out of warp.”

Michael could see it on the inset picture in the upper corner, the fleet quickly crowding the small image.

“Gotta cut this short, I’m afraid while I deal with those uninvited guests of yours,” Michael said. “Prepare for an expedited landing. It might get bumpy but I want you on board yesterday.”

Star offered a curt nod. “After this, a bumpy landing will be a walk in the park.”

“You may change your mind depending on how this plays out. Eagle out.”

As soon as the connection was terminated, the smaller screen expanded again to take up the entire viewer, fully revealing eight, menacing ships quickly approaching in a tight, combat formation.

Michael thought that they looked fairly similar to the Krellonina border vessels they had encountered in their universe, expect that these ships were far larger, each one almost the size of Agamemnon and just a bit smaller than Eagle herself. And while Starfleet ships in both universes had a white-gray finish, these vessels were gleaming in bright chrome colors which were even more impressive under the strong light of the many nearby stars within the Amargosa Diaspora. Similarly to the smaller ships he had encountered previously, these too were shaped like a double-u with nacelles arranged like upward swooping wings from the main body. Michael was sure he could see several visible weapon emplacements protruding forward form the main spaceframe, speaking to significant firepower.

“We’re being hailed,” Leva said from tactical.

Michael nodded to acknowledge. “As soon as the Nebuchadrezzar is onboard, stand-by to raise the transphasic shields, I fear we may need to finally put them to the test. Bring all weapons online as well.

“Understood,” the tactical officer said. “However, our weapons energy will be limited while the transphasic shield is active.”

Michael was well aware of this handicap but for the moment he decided that a strong defensive tactic was more valuable than offensive firepower. “Open the channel.”

The screen shifted again, once more using the inset feature to push the external view aside. On the main screen, the face of a man he had only seen just moments ago dominated the visual pick-up. This Lif Culsten seemed to be a little roughed up himself as if he too had been in a fight. The most noticeable difference between the two men who were otherwise mirror images of each other was the fact that this Culsten hardly seemed to be able to contain his seething anger playing out on his features. “Federation vessels, stand down at once and surrender to us the persons who have illegally entered Star Alliance territory and have assaulted and murdered Krellonian citizens or I promise you, none of you will survive the day.”

Michael had expected some hostility but this man felt more belligerent than a Klingon warrior on a bad day. “I am assuming you are Lif Culsten. My name is Michael Owens from the starship Eagle.”

“I have no interest in who you are,” he snapped.

“Fair enough. I deeply regret if any of your people were hurt but it was vital that we extracted Garla—our Garla—from your planet. She didn’t belong there and neither do any of us. We are not from this universe and are simply trying to find our way back home.”

He wasn’t sure if Culsten was too angry to care or if none of this seemed to interest him in general but his expression was anything but encouraging. “You have committed acts of war against the Krellonian Star Empire. Your reasoning is irrelevant.”

Michael took a step forward to show his resolve. He knew that morally speaking he was in a difficult position. He wasn’t sure what had transpired on Piqus and couldn’t say with certainty that his people or Garla had not committed crimes against the locals there but he was also not willing to just surrender any member of his away team or possibly the only person who might be able to facilitate their return to their own universe. “I cannot surrender my people. But perhaps there is a middle ground here, a compromise we could both live with. I’m sure neither one of us wants to escalate the situation to a full-out interstellar conflict.”

Culsten glared at him for a moment, a frightful look on a man Michael had come to regard as one of the friendliest and most accommodating persons he had ever known. “You have brought this conflict on yourselves by the crimes you have committed. If you do not surrender your people, I will be satisfied with taking possession of their corpses as well as any of those who get into our way.”

The connection was cut off at his end.

“Boy, I like our Lif a lot better,” said Srena.

Agamemnon is hailing, sir,” said Leva.

“Put her through.”

Amaya’s face appeared where Culsten’s had been a few moments ago. She was sitting in the center chair of her bridge, her body leaning forward slightly in anticipation of what was to come. “It was a good try, Michael but I had a feeling it wasn’t going to work. These guys have been spoiling for a fight for a long time. This is just the excuse they’ve been looking for.”

“I don’t want to drag your people into a war, Maya.”

She uttered a little, humorless laugh. “A bit too late for that, I think. Listen, war was coming one way or the other. We’ve known for years that they’ve ramped up starship production and the Federation is not entirely unprepared for this move. Now it seems the first battle will be fought right here,” she said and then considered her next words carefully. “Michael, if we don’t make it out of this I just want you to know that—“

He stopped her. “We’ll make it out.”

She grinned. “Oh, how I’ve missed that bravado,” she said and nodded. “All right, let’s slip the dogs of war, and all that.”

She ended the connection and Michael could see her ship starting to move towards the incoming Krellonian fleet.

“Where are we with the runabout?” he asked.

“Wheels down in thirty seconds,” Deen said.

“Bring weapons online now. Give me a targeting solution on their lead ship,” he said, hoping that the age-old tactic of going after the head of the snake would cripple the body. Perhaps if they could eliminate Culsten, the remaining Krellonians would reconsider his revenge-fueled quest and turn back.

“Lead ship targeted. All weapons on standby,” the half-Romulan at tactical confirmed.

Eagle shuddered slightly under Michael’s boots. Not enough to indicate incoming fire but more than he would have expected to bring in a runabout.

Nebuchadrezzar is onboard and secured,” Deen said. “It wasn’t the prettiest landing in the books but we got her.”

“Seal the shuttle bay and raise shields. Srena, get us in there, I don’t want Agamemnon to take the full brunt of their attack.”

Michael’s orders were quickly acknowledged and executed.

“Additional contacts dropping out of warp,” said Deen.

A much larger ship, easily three times the size of the other Krellonian cruisers zoomed onto the screen just behind the main fleet, along with six smaller ships that seemed to be support vessels. The behemoth was much bulkier than the other ships and looked more like a massive, beached whale than the elegantly shaped cruisers. It did have the same chrome-like paint job.
 
“By the Infinite, what the blazes is that monstrosity?” said Srena as she starred at the ship dwarfing all the others with wide-open eyes and antennae fully erect.

“Sensors are detecting a high volume of smaller ships within the vessel,” said Xylion from the science station.

“It’s a carrier,” said Leva.

Michael didn’t like the sound of that. “Just what we needed.”

“The main fleet is opening fire on the Agamemnon,” said Deen even though once again the viewscreen already made this plain as day as the cruisers fired powerful, blue-tinted energy beams at the other Starfleet ship which immediately responded in kind with a barrage of phaser fire and quantum torpedoes. It was obvious, even without sensors, that in this standoff, Agamemnon had drawn the far shorter straw.

“She is taking heavy damage to her shields,” said Leva. “She won’t last long.”

“Dammit, don’t try to be the hero, Maya,” Michael mumbled under his breath. “Srena, get us there, now.”

The Andorian nodded and operated her console accordingly.

Michael turned to tactical. “Open fire as soon as we are in range. I want to extend our transphasic shields around Agamemnon.”

“It will lessen their effectiveness.”

“So be it.”

The doors to the turbolift opened to disgorge Tazla Star, closely followed by Culsten and Garla.

“Nice of you to join us,” he said to his Trill first officer, her face and civilian attire still dirty and bloodied from her recent away mission, as were the other two.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she said and made a beeline for her chair, quickly using the computer console to catch herself up.

Culsten took one of the aft stations for now, allowing Srena to remain at the helm since it was too risky to replace the ship’s pilot in the middle of combat operations.

Garla just stood in the middle of the bridge, glaring at what she was seeing on the screen.

“We’re now in secondary weapons range,” said Leva. “Firing quantum torpedoes at the lead vessel.”

Not a second later half a dozen bright white missiles shot across the screen and towards their target, flying passed the Agamemnon and striking the Krellonian ship dead-on which didn’t even attempt to evade the incoming projectiles.

“Direct hit,” said Leva. “Their forward shields are seemingly reinforced. Shield strength remains at seventy percent, only minor hull damage.”

The response was quick and relentless as all eight ships now concentrated their fire on Eagle, causing the ship to tremble hard under the impact and Michael who was standing behind the flight control station had to grab hold of the back of Srena’s chair to remain upright.

A moment later the eight ships, which apparently had never slowed down, raced passed both Eagle and Agamemnon, still in their original formation.

“Shields holding at eighty-two percent but we won’t be able to absorb many more of those hits,” said the tactical officer. “The Krellonians are utilizing a tight attack formation that concentrates their firepower and will eventually overwhelm us.”

Garla nodded. “Those tactics aren’t all that different to our own,” she said. “They can be devastating.”

Star stood from her chair to consider the other woman. “If you have any suggestions as to how to fight them, now would be a good time to share.”

“I agreed to help you getting back to our universe but I have no intention of assisting you killing my own people,” she shot back.

“That’s funny,” said Culsten from where he stood at the raised back of the bridge. “You seemed to have fewer compunctions when you assassinated your counterpart.”

Garla glared at him. “That was different. She tried to kill me.”

The ship shuddered again.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” said Michael, once more holding on to the chair in front of him. “These guys are very much operating along similar lines.”

“Sir, the carrier is engaging its attack crafts,” Leva said.

Michael turned back towards the screen to see dozens of tiny little ships come shooting out of the massive carrier like bullets fired from a gun. They were too small to make out details at this distance but they quickly clustered together in groups before commencing their own run.

“Phasers,” Michael said. “Fire at will.”

The void of space lit up like a fireworks display on Federation Day with crisscrossing phaser blasts from both Eagle and Agamemnon, only very few of which seemed to strike the quick and agile attack ships and permanently removing them from the battlefield. Michael didn’t need to be told that this wasn’t going to be a viable defensive strategy.

Leva shook his head. “Phaser fire is having limited effect.”

Eagle shook again, this time it felt as if they were being struck from all sides at once as if they had been caught right in the middle of an angry swarm of bees. To Michael, it felt like death by a thousand cuts.

Star was moving towards the horseshoe-shaped tactical station to support Leva. “Switch to burst firing mode and relax the targeting computer’s tethering that might give us a bit more leeway against fast-moving objects.”

Leva nodded and adjusted the weapons as instructed with Star’s help. Michael could see the effects immediately. Instead of firing sustained, single burst of phased energy at their targets, the phaser arrays now fired in quick staccato burst, spreading out the blasts to fire in front, behind and right through the cluster of enemy attack ships. It didn’t take long for Agamemnon to apply the same modification to her phasers and the results were encouraging as more and more craft were disabled or destroyed. It still didn’t quite feel like enough.

“The main fleet is coming around for another pass,” Leva said.

The main viewscreen shifted to show the eight cruisers bearing down on them again.

“Continue to concentrate torpedoes on the lead vessel. Fire at your discretion.”

The Krellonian ships were once again greeted by a quantum barrage along with phaser fire, even if the burst mode proved less effective against the bigger targets. And once more, the Krellonians responded in kind, firing their weapons at both Starfleet ships as they completed another strafing run.

Michael could feel and hear his ship groaning painfully under the assault and was sure that the hull had taken damage, even through their newly enhanced, albeit overstretched shields. Agamemnon looked in even worse shape and he could see one of her warp nacelles starting to leak plasma.

“Shields down to sixty percent. Hull damage on deck eight, twelve, and seventeen. We’re starting to get causality reports,” Leva said.

Agamemnon’s structural integrity is beginning to buckle,” Deen added to the already bad news.

“What is the status of the Krellonian ships?” Michael said.

Star had the report while Leva was busy targeting and firing his weapons. “Not great but better than us. The lead ship’s shields are showing some fluctuation damage but nothing that’s really slowing her down yet,” she said and then looked up at him. “At this pace, we’re done for long before they are.”

Michael turned to Srena. “Can we get out of here? We got what we came for.”

“I wish we could,” she said, shaking her head. “But not while we are being swarmed by those attack fighters. They are sticking to us like glue and we can’t maintain a stable warp field while they’re on top of us.”

“Wouldn’t matter anyway. I’m getting the distinct feeling that he’ll chase us down before we can get anywhere near reinforcements,” said Garla.

Michael frowned at her. “Well, then perhaps it is time that you take a more proactive approach in keeping us from being blown to bits, don’t you think?”

She nodded slowly. “Hail them. Let me speak to him.”

“Sir, the other Eagle just dropped out of warp,” said Leva. “She’s joining the battle.”

“About time,” said Srena.

But Leva’s face quickly turned into a frown. “She is being intercepted by the support ships that arrived with the carrier. She’s not going to be much help in dealing with the cruisers for a while.”

Michael uttered a heavy sigh. “Of course not,” he said and then glanced back at Garla who seemed to be chomping at the bit to speak to the other Culsten. Michael was out of options and nodded. “Hail the lead vessel.”

Deen had taken over handling communications while Leva was busy working on their defensive strategy. “She’s not responding but they can hear you now.”

Garla took a few steps closer to the viewscreen as if this would make her sound more determined. “Lif, this is Garla. Listen to me.”

To Michael’s surprise, he did. Or at least he opened the channel, appearing once more on the viewscreen and pushing the ongoing battle aside for now, prove that it hadn’t been suspended came via the continued impacts against Eagle’s shields which Michael could feel with increased concern.

“This is pointless,” she said. “Let’s end all this now before any of us does things we truly regret.”

Culsten’s anger had not abated, if anything it was further fueled by seeing Garla. “You’re the imposter who killed the Instigator and caused a deadly riot in our detention center. I will enjoy seeing you pay for what you’ve done.”

“Stop acting like a child throwing a temper tantrum,” she shot back. “I’m assuming with my counterpart no longer with us, you are in charge. Which means you have to start making strategic decisions and committing your entire fleet to attack the Federation here and now isn’t a smart tactical move, surely you can see that.”

“How dare you presume to lecture me, Imposter,” he cried with rage causing spittle to fly from his mouth.

“Start thinking rationally. Yes, bad things happened and we’ll have to take responsibility for them but this mindless war footing you are engaging in is disproportionate to the injury you have sustained. I don’t want to see any more Krellonians die needlessly, even if they are not from my universe. Stop this now.”

Culsten leaned closer towards the screen until it was filled almost entirely by his face. “I won’t destroy your ship. Not completely. I want to make sure that I capture you and the other imposter alive. I want to hear your screams while I slowly torture you to death.”

Michael had tapped Deen on the shoulder even before he had finished his last sentence to cut off the transmission and his face once again disappeared.

“That didn’t go well,” said the other Lif Culsten once his alter ego was gone.

“It doesn’t help that your counterpart is a recalcitrant child having no business leading men,” said Garla.

“In which case insulting him was probably not the way to go,” said Michael, shooting Garla a brief scowl before refocusing on the battle which, as it stood, was nowhere close to coming to an early conclusion. “We need to find a way to get some distance to those attack craft in order to go to warp.”

“That will have to wait,” Star said and indicated towards the screen. “Here he comes again.”

Heavy weapons fire was exchanged once more and Michael was reminded of old-fashioned jousting matches where heavily armored knights would ride up on each other until one of them was unhorsed. Unfortunately, in this particular matchup, it was Eagle’s armor which was crumbling first.

This became indisputably clear when they took another brunt of incoming fire which Srena was not able to fully dodge. Michael immediately knew that the hit had been bad. Further proof of this came when one of the aft stations exploded in a shower of sparks and the same feedback surge struck the flight control station not a moment later, flinging Srena out of her chair and onto the deck.

Culsten reached her body first, checking her over with noticeable concern.

“They managed to get us right in-between the ribs this time,” said Star. “Damned lucky shot too. We’ve lost all starboard phaser control and the shield grid on that side if threatening to collapse.”

Culsten had called in the medical emergency after finding that Srena was apparently still alive, although unconscious for now, and then promptly climbed into her chair to try and take control of the ship by using the damaged console. “I’m attempting to keep our starboard side away from them.”

“Not sure if it’s going to be enough,” Leva said grimly from tactical. “Their lead vessel has taken damage to their engines but it has only slowed them down. They are preparing for another run.”

Star said what Michael was already thinking. “We’re not going to survive another hit.”

It was the moment every ship captain from the earliest days of naval warfare had dreaded more than anything else. Being faced with the very likely possibility of imminent defeat. Knowing that the ship which they had entrusted their very lives to was no longer able to sustain them and instead would take them all down with it. The remaining options were miserable and only one of them seemed even remotely feasible at this point. It was a call no starship captain ever wanted to make.

But before he could give the order to abandon ship, Deen spoke up again. “The Eagle—the other one—is breaking through the Krellonian blockade and heading straight for us.”

“Onscreen,” Michael said, hoping that this could signify the desperately needed turning point in this battle.

But Deen crushed those hopes as soon as she had raised them. “She’s in a poor state. Worse than us. Not sure she’s even going to reach us.”

“She’s not trying to get to us,” said Star which caused Michael to look back at the screen and realize that the other ship was not heading for them but for the Krellonian cruisers which had just executed another turn to finish them off.

“What is he doing?” Culsten said, clearly not understanding why he was running right at them in what seemed like an ill-conceived tactical move.

Michael could see the telltale sign of an evacuation in process as Edison had apparently had the same thought he’d had, except that he was also determined, it seemed, to ride it out all the way to the bitter end.

“They’re abandoning ship and launching escape pods,” said Deen and shook her head. “They’re going to be easy pickings for those attack craft.”

“Lif, change our heading, get us in range to recover the escape pods,” Michael said as his rising adrenaline forced him to move closer to the screen.

“That’ll get us right into the cruisers’ line of fire,” he said but to his credit, didn’t hesitate to carry out the order.

“Something tells me they’re going to have their hands full.”

And then Gene Edison appeared on the screen, looking haggard and bleeding from his forehead. He wasn’t sitting in the captain’s chair, instead, he was at the helm, steering his ship himself. Michael could see two other people with him on the bridge, everyone else was either dead or had already evacuated.

“What are you doing, Gene?”

The other captain smiled and for a brief moment, Michael was almost convinced he was looking into the eyes of the man who had once been his first officer and friend. “I thought that much was obvious. I’m giving you the chance you need to get out of this alive.”

He could only imagine how he must have felt about sacrificing his ship and possibly a large percentage of his crew in this last desperate effort. Michael was no stranger to sacrificing a starship in an attempt to save lives, he had felt that terrible anguish when he had helplessly watched his former command, the Columbia, destroyed by a weaponized meteor after he had given the order to use the ship to prevent it from annihilating an entire colony. Of course, he’d had the fortunate opportunity to watch that drama unfold from the safety of a nearby shuttle, secure in the knowledge that Columbia’s entire crew, save for one soul, had evacuated the ship before it found its doom.

Edison was still onboard and much of his crew wasn’t going to get off his ship in time.

“Gene, get to a lifeboat.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking over his navigation board, and when he looked back up he wore that same smile again. “You know, I don’t think I was ever cut out to sit in the captain’s chair. That was your job, Michael and I should have made sure that you were able to keep it.”

He took a step closer to the screen, shaking his head. “Don’t do this, Gene. Get out of there.”

“I failed you, Captain,” he said, his expression having grown more dejected now. “And I failed Laas. Tell her that I’m sorry. Tell her that I didn’t do enough to save her.”

“Gene.”

“Will you tell her that, Captain?”

He nodded. “Yes, yes, I will.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said. “And save as many of my people as you can.”

“I will, I promise.”

On the inset screen, Michael could see the cruisers beginning to tear into Eagle as she raced towards them on a collision course. Escape pods continued to shake free of the battered spaceframe but her hull was breaking up even faster, destroying many pods before they had a chance to launch.

The image of Edison on his bridge was starting to tear and shake, growing static making it difficult to see or hear him clearly. “I know this is a terrible cliché,” he said, his distorted face looking back at him. “But I mean it when I say that it was an honor to have served with you, Captain. Perhaps this makes up for all the—“

The connection terminated suddenly and the viewscreen was once again filled with Eagle’s final flight.

“The honor was mine, Gene,” Michael said quietly, feeling his heartbreaking at seeing what was essentially his ship, being torn apart by the Krellonian cruisers, and her crew losing their lives in the process.

The bridge around him fell into dead silence as everyone watched the tragedy unfold.

It felt like an eternity was passing even while in truth the entire episode lasted less than thirty seconds.

The cruisers failed to obliterate Eagle entirely before she was upon them. Michael had no idea how but Edison had managed to avoid striking the lead vessel head-on and instead she smashed into the other ship at an angle, causing a terrible rendering of metal on metal as the Starfleet ship tore through the other vessel, shedding hull plates by the dozens in the process and losing her portside nacelle.

There was a momentary and almost eerie serenity to the scene after Eagle had cleared the lead vessel and she just hung there, surrounded by the Krellonian ships and her own debris, deformed to such a degree it was difficult to even tell she had been a proud starship once.

Then the warp core exploded with a blinding flash.

The force of the matter/anti-matter explosion set off a chain reaction and the lead vessel, as damaged as it was, didn’t stand a chance, blowing itself to pieces in a spectacular display of destruction which was quickly followed by the obliteration of the closest ship to it and then continued one-by-one in a span of just a few seconds.

The brightness of the resulting explosions forced Michael and most others on the bridge to shield their eyes before the screen dimmed automatically but by the time Michael had lowered his hand, nothing but debris remained of the Krellonian attack fleet.

Their dangerous and devastatingly close-combat formation had also spelled their undoing.

“Infallible Creator,” Garla said quietly as the sight of the destruction and massive loss of life.

Michael didn’t allow himself too much time to morn the loss of the other Eagle, knowing that the battle was not necessarily over just yet. After all, they were still surrounded by a number of other enemy ships, including the carrier and its many attack crafts. “Recover every Starfleet escape pod you can. Do it now.”

He could now see that Agamemnon was also moving towards what had become a starship graveyard surrounded by a dense field of debris. She was too far out to secure escape pods but she did everything she could to keep the remaining Krellonians at bay.

“The attack crafts are beginning to back off,” said Leva. “We might have a window to retreat.”

“How many pods did we get?”

Deen checked her instruments. “We’ve recovered twenty-two so far,” she said, her voice sounding much more strained than usual. “I am detecting about forty additional pods but the majority of which are structurally compromised.”

“Any more life signs?” Michael asked.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she looked at him and simply shook her head.

“The Krellonian ships are regrouping,” said Star. “I think they’re going to try for a final push. This might be our only chance to get out of here.”

Michael allowed himself another look at the screen and the sight of destruction spread out ahead. Dee had confirmed there was nothing left alive out there. He resolved that it wasn’t worth two more starship crews to collect the remains of those who had given their lives so that they could carry on.

“Signal the Agamemnon. We’ll make best speed back towards the subspace threshold,” he said.

Agamemnon confirms. She’ll be limited to warp seven due to damage sustained to her engines,” Leva said.

Michael nodded. “It’ll have to do. Lif, get us out of here.”

He kept his eyes on what remained of Edison’s starship for as long as he could, it was the least he could do and even that felt far too little for their sacrifice. That final tribute lasted a couple of seconds before the floating tomb disappeared amidst a field of streaking stars.
 
A gut-wrenching sacrifice as Captain Edison gives the last true measure of dedication for his fellows. An excellent, breathtaking battle scene, all the more harrowing as it seemed all was lost until the alt-Eagle made her final run.

Talk about re-opening old wounds. Both Michael and Laas are losing Edison all over again. And the alt-Lif, wow, what a dick! :scream: Here's hoping he experiences some significant loss of face over the destruction of a large portion of his battle-fleet.

Wonderful segment!
 
31


The main shuttlebay looked as if it had been thrown into utter and total chaos and more closely resembled a junkyard than an orderly flight deck on a ship of the line.

The entire length and width of the massive space seemed to be occupied by escape pods in various state of disrepair, along with tons of other debris which had once belonged to the other starship Eagle. Mixed in with all of that were hull pieces and starship fragments from the Krellonian vessels which had suffered the same fate.

Clearly, in a rush to recover as many viable escape pods as possible, Deen and the transporter operators had thrown a wide net, beaming anything and everything that could possibly have contained life signs right into the shuttle bay to be sorted out later.

It had been an expedient tactic, probably the only one that ensured they could save as many souls as possible but it had left a junk heap of twisted and burned metal to be sifted through by the crew.

Nora Laas didn’t care as she joined an army of crewmembers trying to find survivors.

Since Eagle was still at red alert status, everybody who was not crucial to the defense of the ship had been drafted to the shuttlebay to help out. Mostly led by blue-collared medical personnel, members of the science, operations, and engineering divisions, as well as SMTs and even civilians had come together to pick through the rubble and to try and locate crewmembers of the doomed Eagle, either alive or dead.

Laas was leading the majority of her security team doing the same. This was hardly their first time performing this oftentimes grim task and she thought that over the years they had perfected a pretty good system of doing this, splitting up in groups, using tricorders and other tools to go through the rubble, starting with any lifeboats which seemed more likely to have kept people alive and going from there.

She had to admit, however, that this was one of the messiest operations of this kind she had ever been party to and braced herself that much of this was going to be more recovery work than actual search and rescue.

She also had a more personal stake in trying to locate survivors—one which on the surface didn’t make much sense, not even to her, and yet she felt her heart pounding in her chest as she rushed from one escape pod to the next, trying to find one specific survivor.

She kept asking the shell-shocked crewmembers she helped out of the lifeboats, many of which had to be carried, the same question over and over again, and the answers remained the same.

She thought she heard her name being called in the middle of interrogating a couple of young crewmen who had already sadly shaken their heads to her inquires and as she turned around, she half expected to see the man she had been looking for.

It was Elijah Katanga who had called out for her. “He’s not here, Lieutenant.”

She shook her head, pointing at several pods that had not yet been seen to in the far corner of the bay. “We don’t know that. We haven’t checked them all,” she said and turned towards them.

“Laas.”

She ignored him initially, determined to check all the pods as quickly as possible. He may have been in one of those that had taken significant damage, badly injured, and waiting to be rescued.

“I’ve had word from the bridge.”

She froze then, not immediately turning to face the doctor.

“He stayed on board until the very end,” Katanga said, for once displaying a softer bedside manner that usually eluded him when dealing with his patients. “He’s gone.”

Laas wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel about this. He hadn’t been her Gene Edison, she knew that on an intellectual level, of course. He had been so very different from the man she had loved and lost. But then again, he had been so similar as well. She did not doubt that, given time, he could have become like her Gene. He certainly had aspired to be.

She felt Katanga’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head and turned around. “I hardly knew that man.”

He nodded sympathetically as if he understood that there had been much more than that.

Laas took a deep breath and resolved that she wouldn’t mourn Captain Edison the way she had Gene. She wouldn’t allow herself to go through all that again. They were both gone now but she was still around. Things had to carry on.

Her inner monologue was interrupted by a banging sound that started faintly but quickly gained intensity.

Both she and Katanga turned to look at a nearby pod which was singed so badly, it was nearly pitch black with half its hull plates already having shed away, it didn’t look capable of sustaining life.

Katanga quickly referred to his medical tricorder. “There is a lot of interference from various exposed energy sources but there might be somebody alive in there.”

Laas quickly made it to the pod and began to clear the debris which was preventing access to the hatch, disposing of it haphazardly in an attempt to get to it as quickly as possible.

Katanga, belying his age, promptly joined her and together they managed to create a path to the hatch.

The small viewport was shattered and made it impossible to look inside. Laas grabbed the main handle but it wouldn’t budge even as she put her entire strength to it.

It wasn’t until the octogenarian physician began to help out that the hatch was beginning to give way.

A sudden rush of adrenaline augmented her strengths and effort just enough for the door to finally give up its resistance and it flew open so suddenly, both Laas and Katanga were very nearly flung to the ground.

She helped steady the doctor first and helped him sit down on a piece of debris after he had noticeably exhausted himself and then quickly made it back to the now open hatch, using her wrist beacon to illuminate the dark interior.

The pod appeared empty.

Then she felt it.

A sensation she had perceived before. It guided her to a far corner of the pod where she spotted the body. And it was moving.

She reached out into the pod. “Take my hand.”

The man did and once she had a firm grip she began to pull him out until the light revealed his face.

She recognized him immediately.

He was a Vulcan and she tried hard not to let her disappointment show on her face.

“Jarik,” she said, almost spitting the name.

He looked pretty awful, his usually meticulously kept hair was in total disarray, his face dirty and streaked with greenish blood.

“Are you injured?” she asked as she continued to pull him out.

He began to fight her. “Stop. Stop it.”

He was so insistent she had no choice but to cease her efforts. She guessed he was in shock which was not uncommon after surviving the destruction of a starship. “You are all right now. You are safe,” she said.

But he didn’t seem to listen, instead, he freed himself of her grasp and dove back into the pod.

She was just about to climb in after him when he reappeared, this time holding a case she had also seen before. The sensation she had felt earlier was undoubtedly emanating from within. She had a good idea what it contained.

Clutching it closely as if his very life depended on it, he finally reached out for her again and this time allowed her to pull him out of the pod. “Are you all right?” she asked again.

He nodded. “I am fine,” he said as he climbed out with her help.

“Anyone else in there with you?”

“Where are we?” he said once he had set foot onto the flight deck. “Where are we going?”

Laas exchanged a quick look with Katanga who was pulling himself back up now that he had another apparent patient. She was wondering if Jarik had suffered a concussion which again would not have been unusual in this situation.

“We’re on Eagle. The one from our universe. The other one was destroyed. Last I heard we’re heading back towards the Ring,” she said.

“Good,” he said. “I need to speak to the captain right away,” he added and then began to make his way towards the exit even if he was moving with some difficulties, noticeably wobbling and needing to steady himself.

Katanga shook his head. “I think I need to look you over first.”

“I don’t have time for that,” he said without slowing down and quickly finding his balance again, allowing him to pick up the pace.

It was Katanga, it seemed, who was too tired to chase after him. “Heaven’s preserve me, will I ever find a cooperative patient on this ship?”

Laas indicated towards her deputy, José Carlos, who was standing nearby and then pointed at Jarik who was making a beeline for the exit. Carlos understood immediately and began to follow the half-Vulcan. After her last encounter with the SAI administrator where he had threatened Owens to take over command even by force if necessary, Laas was determined to have the man closely guarded while he was on his ship.

Once she was satisfied that Jarik was being watched she glanced back into the pod realizing that there had been another person inside after all. She was in the corner opposite from where she had found Jarik. It was a Bolian science officer judging by the blue-collar of her uniform. Her empty and lifeless eyes were staring right back at her.

Laas turned away and climbed off the pod. “I’m afraid you won’t find another patient in that one,” she said as she walked passed Katanga to find the team tasked with recovering dead bodies before she’d continue to search the remaining pods, already fully aware that the chances of finding any more survivors were slim to none.
 
Ugh, grim. But of course Jarik survived, and is just as dickish as ever!

Poor Laas (in Scotty's voice). She may vow not to mourn this Edison in the same way, but I've a feeling her heart may not comply with her head's demands.

Here's hoping Carlos gets the chance to stun the $&!# before his next attempt to seize command of Eagle.
 
Sorry I'm late with my comments but, as you know, we're living in interesting times.

Last chapter was pretty amazing. The inevitable battle I was expecting was like a slow motion nightmare for Eagle Prime. While I'm still no fan of Edison, he did rise to the occasion at the end, finishing both his career and his life in the noble tradition of Starfleet's best heroes.

Now Jarik is back, thwarting poetic justice so he can continue to be a pain in Michael's ass. Damn.

Keep the presses rolling, my man!
 
32


Eagle and Agamemnon had found the threshold to in-between space exactly where they had left it, inside Cygni-98 and right alongside the signal buoy Eagle had deployed earlier to allow them to keep an eye on things while they were inside the subspace pocket.

The captain had called a meeting as soon as they were back within in-between space and within the immense shadow of the still awe-inspiringly massive ring structure.

To Lif, the observation lounge felt more packed than usual. The captain was there, of course, sitting in his usual chair at the head of the conference table with Tazla Star at his right.

The captain’s father who had miraculously returned from the dead not long ago was also present. Lif had heard that the admiral was suffering from serious health issues and had in fact collapsed on a recent away mission to the Ring. His condition had apparently improved sufficiently to attend the meeting although he seemed far paler than he remembered.

The half-Vulcan Jarik, who had been recovered from an escape pod from the other and now destroyed Eagle, was also present. He had looked like he had been to hell and back when he had suddenly appeared on the bridge after their devastating battle but had since cleaned himself up and replicated a fresh uniform. The man was still preoccupied with keeping his metallic case close. Lif hadn’t seen the Prism artifact that it was said to contain but he could certainly feel its powerful essence emanating from the slim container and permeating the entire room.

Captain Amaya Donners stood by one of the large windows and looking out at the swirling pink subspace mass outside instead of sitting at the table. She had seemed particularly glum and Lif didn’t blame her considering recent events.

Nora Laas had taken up position by the doors along with three additional security officers spread out to cover both entrances. They were here mostly for Garla even if Star had asked him to play her chaperone while she was on board, seeing that she seemed to respond to him far better than to any other Starfleet officer. He hadn’t liked the idea much, after all, last time they had run into each other on Eagle, she had taken him hostage and threatened to kill him in order to facilitate her escape.

He understood the first officer’s argument, however. Regardless of their differences, Garla was still family, something she had reaffirmed during their turbulent mission to Piqus. He still didn’t fully trust her and he had the feeling she remained equally guarded about him but for now, she had agreed to help them get back to their home universe.

Star’s confidence in his ability to keep her under control only went so far, as evidenced by the security detail which had shadowed Garla ever since she had stepped on board.

He and Garla hadn’t spoken much since the battle and she had seemed lost in her thoughts for the most part after their escape.

Bensu, Xylion, Deen, and Hopkins were also in the observation lounge, all sitting at the table, which had left him and Garla to remain standing, as seating room had grown scarce.

The captain considered Bensu and his science and engineering officers first. “What is the current status of the Ring?”

“It remains unchanged from its condition when we left it. We carried out a brief survey of the control sphere before this meeting but could not determine any changes since our last visit,” Xylion said.

“That’s good news, I suppose,” said Star and gave the captain a telling look before focusing on Jarik further down the table with a noticeable frown on her Trill features which Jarik seemed to ignore entirely.

Lif was vaguely aware that something had transpired on the Ring during their absence and while Star had clearly been updated, he had not. Deen had alluded to a potentially hostile escalation between the two ships when she had briefly spoken to him earlier but had not had the chance to elaborate on the details.

“Our top priority, for now, has to be finding a way back home,” said the captain. “We believe we have the means of achieving this with the Prism which may be even more effective if used directly on the Ring. Bensu’s unique talents and insights may help us focus the artifact in the right way. Having said all that, our last experience of traveling through a gateway was anything but pleasant and exerted a significant toll on both the ship and her crew. I want to make sure we do whatever we can to minimize the risks this time.” He turned to look at Garla even though she didn’t seem to pay him much attention. “I believe that’s where you come in, Sentinel.”

She looked up then, giving him a rather blank expression in response. “I wasn’t even aware of the structure’s existence until very recently. And I certainly didn’t know of its potential to facilitate travel to other universes.”

Star leaned forward in her chair. “But you did work with the people responsible for constructing it. With the subspace aliens.”

“Saying that I worked with them is somewhat generous,” she said.

Star and Owens exchanged glances before the captain focused back on her, his facial expressions hardening. “Call it what you wish but the fact remains that you had a mutual agreement with them. More importantly, you were in direct communications with the subspace aliens.”

Garla nodded slowly.

“We need to speak to them,” he said.

“What exactly do you think that will accomplish?” Jarik said, the first words he had spoken since the meeting had commenced.

“I thought that much was obvious,” Owens said, not entirely able to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“May I remind you that those are the same people intending to invade our universe? And we already tried communicating with them once before. That didn’t exactly work out, did it?”

Michael glanced towards his father, hoping perhaps that he would comment on Jarik’s obstructiveness but the admiral remained mum.

“That may have had something to do with the fact that you were torturing the creature,” Owens said.

“I did what was necessary.”

“And now we’re doing what I think is necessary,” he said sharply which seemed to have robbed Jarik of a response. He turned his focus on Garla again. “We need your help to establish a dialogue with them.”

But Garla didn’t speak.

Star uttered a little frustrated sigh of her own. “You do have the means to contact them?”

“Perhaps,” Garla said. “But I’m not so sure I want to do that.”

“How dare you?”

Everyone present glanced towards Amaya Donners who had finally turned around from staring out into the void of subspace to face the other woman.

“A good man just sacrificed his ship and most of his crew for a chance to get us back here alive and you have the audacity to stand there and say that you do not wish to do your part in this?” she said, her voice sharp as a razor blade and her eyes shimmering like burning stars. “That you just don’t feel up to doing the one thing we brought you back here for? We could have left you to rot on Piqus instead of trying to get you back home.”

“Tha man killed a lot of Krellonians,” Garla shot back.

“Krellonians intend on killing us. Killing you. So forgive me if I don’t shed any tears for their demise. When all this is over you may find your way back to your universe but I’ll still be here and no doubt will have to deal with the fallout of what happened today. A full-out war with the Krellonians has become pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. So how about you get over whatever the hell is eating you and you start pulling your weight?”

Garla just glared at Donners but said nothing at first.

Lif couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Agamemnon’s captain and it occurred to him that everything that had happened in her universe since they had arrived, from the people they had been forced to kill and the chaos they had created on Piqus, the battle with his counterpart and Captain Edison’s sacrifice, all of it had happened because of them. Because they had arrived in this universe and done everything they could to go back home, leaving death and destruction in their wake. And now Captain Donners was the only person left, at least in this room, who would have to deal with the consequences of it all.

Garla clearly didn’t see it that way and crossed her arms defiantly. “We could have found another way than massacring thousands of my people.”

“They weren’t your people,” Donners shot back.

“They were Krellonians.”

For a moment an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. It wasn’t until Lif spoke up that it was broken again. He turned to look at his aunt. “You said it yourself, these aliens, they didn’t hold up their end of the bargain in whatever deal you struck. In fact, they outright lied to you to gain your assistance in carrying out their plans that we have to assume are still fully in play. On the other hand, whatever you were hoping to accomplish for our people, your stand-alone society, it may no longer be viable because of their deceit. If nothing else, help us stop them from carrying out their designs and get your revenge in the process.”

Lif didn’t miss the frown forming on the captain’s face and he was certain that he didn’t entirely appreciate his tactic of using the promise of exacting vengeance as a motivation tool. It wasn’t exactly the Starfleet way. But then again, Garla wasn’t Starfleet and he knew that she was not a person you wanted as an enemy, had in fact painfully learned that lesson only just recently.

She considered him for a few seconds, her face an unreadable mask. For a moment he thought that perhaps he had overplayed his hand and overestimated her desire to settle a score.

Then she offered a smile. “Well, if you put it that way,” she said and reached into a hidden pocket of her outfit to retrieve an object, which immediately caused Nora and the security team to tense-up, with hands darting towards holstered phasers.

“Relax, everyone,” she said after noticing their reaction and then very slowly retrieved something which looked decidedly non-threatening. She took a few steps towards the dark glass and mahogany conference table and then placed the object on the smooth surface. It was nothing more than a flat, gray, octagon-shaped item half the size of her palm which to Lif looked more like a Fizzbin card than a piece of technology.

Star, upon seeing the unassuming card, looked up at her. “Are we playing a game?”

“You want to contact the subspace creatures. That’s how to do it,” she said in a deadpan.

“How does it work?” Deen asked, studying the card closer but avoided touching it for the moment.

“You tell me. I’ve thrown non-insignificant numbers of resources and scientists at this over the last few months and nobody has been able to tell me much about its functionality,” she said and looked at the captain. “But trust me, it's your best chance of making contact with those things. Just remember my condition, Captain. I fully expect to get a piece of them myself.”
 
Why do I have the feeling that things aren't going to end well for Garla? Her thirst for revenge is probably, how should I put it, overly optimistic? In fact, I bet the whole crew is underestimating these subspace aliens.

And why was Owens Sr. so quiet during the meeting?

Great plot detail about Donners having to live with the aftermath of the battle. Her Federation may be heading to war, and her frustration with that fact is obvious.

Now, time to git while the gitting's good! Here's hoping the journey home is successful!
 
33


Xylion, Hopkins, and Deen had gone to work straight away to try and determine how to use the curious device Garla had produced to open communications with the subspace aliens and which had left them mostly stumped initially.

Realizing that answers wouldn’t be forthcoming immediately and that he would do nobody any favors by impatiently hovering over the engineers and scientists trying to decipher the device, Michael had decided to let them get on with it in peace for now and had instead brought Amaya back to his quarters after she had requested a private conversation.

She hadn’t spoken much during their brief journey to his cabin and Michael was well aware that her mood had likely not improved significantly since her angry outburst in the observation lounge when she had confronted the stubborn Krellonian Sentinel who had developed second thoughts on assisting them in their mission.

Michael didn’t blame her one bit. After all, it was no easy thing to watch a fellow starship and her crew parish, and he had to admit that watching Edison’s sacrifice had effected him greatly as well, even if he hadn’t known that version of the man well, or the fact that he had threatened him and his ship with violence just a few hours before.

Once they had reached his quarters, Amaya visibly relaxed and took her time to take in her surroundings, studying the art hanging on the bulkheads, the photographs of friends and family, his extensive collection of old paper tomes, and other assorted knickknacks.

Michael watched her as she did so. He hadn’t really seen much of the Amaya Donners of this universe, at least not up-close and in a calm and private setting, since that surprisingly passionate kiss she had first greeted him with and which he had not been able to ban from his memory. He was struck once more how similar she looked to his Amaya, more so even than the two Edisons had resembled each other. Or perhaps it was so much more noticeable as it had been only days since he had last seen her counterpart, whereas it had been years since Gene Edison had been killed.

Amaya seemed amused by some of the things she found in his collection and Michael guessed that she recognized those pieces from her late husband, indicating to him that he had shared much with his counterpart including, it seemed, his romantic interests.

She picked up a frame containing an animated picture of his brother, smiling at something somewhere beyond the camera, his dark graduation gown softly rippling in the breeze. “Matthew,” she said and then turned to look at him.

Michael felt his throat tightening. His brother had died tragically in his universe many years ago and in a twisted turn of fate which had included an unlikely trip back into time, he had been forced to live through Matthew’s death twice, unable to prevent his demise a second time despite his best efforts. Now he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he was still alive in this reality, having been able to escape his cruel fate and carry on the Owens lineage in his brother’s absence. “Is he…?”

She shook her head sadly and then placed the frame back where she had found it.

Michael felt a little sigh escape his lips as he understood.

Amaya, realizing that this was a painful subject, quickly moved on. “I wanted to thank you for retrieving those escape pods,” she said. “We’ve started bringing them aboard Agamemnon.”

He nodded. “Of course. It was the least we could do.”

She headed towards his seating arrangements and put herself down in one of the chairs by the slanted windows and he followed suit. “Losing Eagle was a big blow to Starfleet.”

“Edison was a good captain,” he said, not so much because he believed it but because he felt it needed to be said.

Amaya looked right into his eyes. “We both know that’s not true.”

“I didn’t know him as well as you did.”

“I heard what happened while we were gone, Michael. Edison was out of line to threaten you the way he did. Something very dark happened to him after he took command of Eagle. Perhaps he was never ready for that level of responsibility in the first place. Perhaps it was losing his captain,” she said, sorrow noticeably creeping into her tone.

“I am truly sorry for what happened. If it hadn’t been for my plan to go and retrieve Garla, this would not have turned out this way,” he said.

She quickly shook her head. “Don’t apologize for making a command decision, Michael. It was the right call at the time and you know it. There is no way we could have foreseen how this would play out.”

He nodded, thankful for her wisdom which reminded him a great deal of his own Amaya. “But it does mean that you’ll be left with one huge mess with the Krellonians no doubt looking for blood.”

She glanced towards the windows for a moment. “Yeah. They’ve been on a war footing for a while so this will not come as a surprise to anyone,” she said and then looked back towards him. “With both Garla and her chief lieutenant gone, however, not to mention a substantial number of their ships, it will take them some time to regroup and attempt another incursion. Enough time for us to prepare.”

“I hope so.”

“Of course, having another ship around would help improve our odds,” she said with a playful smile. “Any chance I could convince you to abandon your plans of finding a way back home and instead stick around here for a while longer.”

She had made it sound like a joke but Michael could see through it. There was more than a kernel of seriousness underpinning her request and it wasn’t difficult to understand why. “It wouldn’t be fair to my crew. None of us belong here.”

“Of course,” she said quickly, perhaps too quickly before she looked back into his eyes. “Is there an Amaya Donners waiting for you on the other side?”

He nodded slowly.

“But she isn’t your wife, is she?” she said as she threw a furtive glance across the room, indicating the lack of any pictures or other mementos speaking to a married man.

“No she is not.”

She nodded. “Tell me about her. What is she like?”

He grinned. “She’s very much like you, I think. She’s the captain of the Agamemnon as well. She’s strong, smart, and beautiful. She’s among the most resourceful people I’ve ever known. She can be as stubborn as an ox and as supportive as a lifelong friend, sometimes both at the same time. I’ve known her since my early days at the Academy and we have been the closest friends ever since,” he said, purposefully leaving out the less than cordial relationship they had shared in an alternative timeline.

Amaya returned that smile. “I think I’d like that version of myself.”

“I think you would too,” he said, perhaps sounding a little more wistful than he had wanted to. He had described her best attributes and the reasons why he had fallen in love with her even though as of late those feelings had apparently not been reciprocated.

“But there’s more to it, isn’t there?” she said.

He shot her a surprised look at her ability to see through him so easily.

She offered a good-natured smile. “I’ve learned reading that face a long time ago.”

He nodded with understanding. “Things have been a little difficult as of late and I’m not entirely sure why. It may have something to do with this mission. Let’s just say things have cooled down between us rather suddenly,” he said, unable to shake the odd sensation of discussing his relationship with Amaya with her nearly exact duplicate.

This Amaya didn’t respond to this straight away, instead, she seemed lost in her thoughts for a moment.

“Star to Owens.”

Michael glanced towards the ceiling upon hearing his first officer’s voice. “Go ahead, Commander.”

“It looks as if we had a minor breakthrough with Garla’s device and we might be ready to try something. I thought you might want to be around for that.”

“Absolutely.”

“We’re assembling in holodeck two.”

Michael thought that to be an odd place to test unknown technology but then nodded. A habit he had never been able to shake, regardless of the fact that on an audio channel, Star couldn’t see him. “We’ll be right there, Commander. Owens out.”

With the channel closed once more, he glanced towards Amaya. “Time to go back to work,” he said and stood and a moment later she followed suit.

She reached out for him as he made his way towards the doors and Michael stopped and turned to look at her.

“If nothing else, find a way to make it work between the two of you,” she said, sounding deadly serious, as she looked straight into his eyes. “From everything you’ve said, your Amaya sounds a great deal like me. And if that’s true then I have no doubt in my mind that she loves you a great deal. Don’t make her lose you like I’ve lost my Michael. I need you to promise me that.”

He nodded slowly. And even though he had no idea how he could make that happen, how it was even in his power to change her mind, in that brief moment he knew he had to find a way. “I promise I won’t ever give up on her.”

That seemed to improve her mood again and she offered him that brilliant smile he had fallen in love with so long ago. “That’s all I needed to hear. Now let’s get out there and kick some subspace alien butt.”
 
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