The Untold Era - Theseus: Extraction
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*
“Ah, Captain?”Lieutenant Kylin Hajar stared at his commanding officer, not entirely sure he heard correctly.
They were to fly over C2247-A’s northern horizon, intercept the shuttle and neutralize its systems with an EMP burst. Okay, the gears in his brain worked slowly, I got that part.
What the Trill didn’t get was the next part. There was something missing. Or, more accurately, a part of him wondered if this was some sort of test. Hajar couldn’t tell.
“Kyle?”
“What about the pilot?”
The lieutenant watched as Furry considered him thoughtfully. “He’ll be fine,” the captain said and shrugged, before settling back in his seat. “Miss Oagga, stand by for my mark. Mister Sinclair, you got lock?”
“Locked and loaded, sir.”
Hajar swallowed, his attention still on the starship captain. Furry looked cool, calm, and collected, the optimal image of what one would expect of a person in a position of authority. Yet, Hajar felt that he detected uncertainty.
Not that I’m a telepath, a part of him countered. Still, something had to be said for having multiple life experiences to fall back on. The Kylin part of his personality mused and his attention on Furry.
“Mark!” said the captain.
Once more, the Theseus started to edge over C2247-A’s horizon. At first slowly, almost as if her helmsman was uncertain of herself. Then, just as Theseus’s nose poked through, her impulse engines lit up and she jumped over CSS47-A and turned onto the shuttle.
For its part, the Klingon shuttle veered hard to starboard. At least, it tried. As the Klingon turned, Theseus fired an EMP round. She missed.
Theseus fired again.
This time, the shot was true. The EMP round smacked into the side of the Klingon shuttle, discharging an electromagnetic pulse. The shuttle pilot swore as electricity danced across the flight control, just the small vessel started to spin.
A moment later, the shuttle pilot disappeared in a transporter beam.
“Ah, Captain?”Lieutenant Kylin Hajar stared at his commanding officer, not entirely sure he heard correctly.
They were to fly over C2247-A’s northern horizon, intercept the shuttle and neutralize its systems with an EMP burst. Okay, the gears in his brain worked slowly, I got that part.
What the Trill didn’t get was the next part. There was something missing. Or, more accurately, a part of him wondered if this was some sort of test. Hajar couldn’t tell.
“Kyle?”
“What about the pilot?”
The lieutenant watched as Furry considered him thoughtfully. “He’ll be fine,” the captain said and shrugged, before settling back in his seat. “Miss Oagga, stand by for my mark. Mister Sinclair, you got lock?”
“Locked and loaded, sir.”
Hajar swallowed, his attention still on the starship captain. Furry looked cool, calm, and collected, the optimal image of what one would expect of a person in a position of authority. Yet, Hajar felt that he detected uncertainty.
Not that I’m a telepath, a part of him countered. Still, something had to be said for having multiple life experiences to fall back on. The Kylin part of his personality mused and his attention on Furry.
“Mark!” said the captain.
Once more, the Theseus started to edge over C2247-A’s horizon. At first slowly, almost as if her helmsman was uncertain of herself. Then, just as Theseus’s nose poked through, her impulse engines lit up and she jumped over CSS47-A and turned onto the shuttle.
For its part, the Klingon shuttle veered hard to starboard. At least, it tried. As the Klingon turned, Theseus fired an EMP round. She missed.
Theseus fired again.
This time, the shot was true. The EMP round smacked into the side of the Klingon shuttle, discharging an electromagnetic pulse. The shuttle pilot swore as electricity danced across the flight control, just the small vessel started to spin.
A moment later, the shuttle pilot disappeared in a transporter beam.
CHAPTER SIX
The Klingon shuttle continued cartwheeling on the main screen, its matte green clear against the night sky of space.
Furry nodded as he sat back, satisfied with himself. As impromptu as things were, this mission was coming along nicely.
As nicely as one can get extracting a commodore, a part of him countered. What a Starfleet Border Service commodore was doing deep within enemy-held territory, had not been entirely explained to Furry. Other than that the man had been investigating the Nuv pagh Tuq, and that he liked to be hands on.
“Spin us about and target that shuttle with the grappling hook,” announced Furry.
Lt. Hajar blinked. “Sir?”
Furry frowned. The Trill had been doing a lot of that lately. Maybe I should just leave him as head of Supply, thought Furry. “Yes, Kyle?”
“Why do we need the shuttle?”
Furry eyed him. “For the same reason we need its pilot.”
“Which is?”
But it was not Furry who answered. “A good excuse for being here, Lieutenant,” provided PO2 Sinclair, nodding away in understanding.
*
Senior Chief Daviss took a step back, cat-like eyes narrowing as the Klingon shuttle pilot rematerialized inside the cargohold. As tactics went, this was a new one.
“Bridge, this is Daviss,” she started once reaching the intra-com.
“Go ahead, COB,” responded the captain.
“Shuttle pilot aboard,” she said.
“Very good, COB,” said the captain. “We’ll be in Beta Thoridar in the next couple hours. I want a full away team, make sure you and I are on it.”
For the briefest of seconds, Daviss considered telling the captain that away missions were for his second-in-command. Just as quickly, she dismissed the idea.
Looks like we’ve got another Lemed on our hands, she thought. Like one was enough!
“Understood,” she responded. “Suggest we go civilian.”
“Agreed,” said the captain.
At least he listens!
With that done, she killed the comms.
The Klingon shuttle continued cartwheeling on the main screen, its matte green clear against the night sky of space.
Furry nodded as he sat back, satisfied with himself. As impromptu as things were, this mission was coming along nicely.
As nicely as one can get extracting a commodore, a part of him countered. What a Starfleet Border Service commodore was doing deep within enemy-held territory, had not been entirely explained to Furry. Other than that the man had been investigating the Nuv pagh Tuq, and that he liked to be hands on.
“Spin us about and target that shuttle with the grappling hook,” announced Furry.
Lt. Hajar blinked. “Sir?”
Furry frowned. The Trill had been doing a lot of that lately. Maybe I should just leave him as head of Supply, thought Furry. “Yes, Kyle?”
“Why do we need the shuttle?”
Furry eyed him. “For the same reason we need its pilot.”
“Which is?”
But it was not Furry who answered. “A good excuse for being here, Lieutenant,” provided PO2 Sinclair, nodding away in understanding.
*
Senior Chief Daviss took a step back, cat-like eyes narrowing as the Klingon shuttle pilot rematerialized inside the cargohold. As tactics went, this was a new one.
“Bridge, this is Daviss,” she started once reaching the intra-com.
“Go ahead, COB,” responded the captain.
“Shuttle pilot aboard,” she said.
“Very good, COB,” said the captain. “We’ll be in Beta Thoridar in the next couple hours. I want a full away team, make sure you and I are on it.”
For the briefest of seconds, Daviss considered telling the captain that away missions were for his second-in-command. Just as quickly, she dismissed the idea.
Looks like we’ve got another Lemed on our hands, she thought. Like one was enough!
“Understood,” she responded. “Suggest we go civilian.”
“Agreed,” said the captain.
At least he listens!
With that done, she killed the comms.
*
With a slight of hand, the Theseus jumped into warp.
Ambler waited patiently, keeping his deamenour relaxed in front of the bridge crew. Inwardly, he was gnawing with uncertainty. Orders aside, did he do the right thing? Was appointing Hajar acting XO a good thing, or should he have gone with Sakik?
Questions, galore.
Furry eyed the back of the Saurian’s head. “ETA to Beta Thoridar?”
“A couple of hours.”
“Very good.” Furry grunted and rose to his feet. “Kyle, you have the bridge. I want to be alerted twenty minutes before we arrive.”
And with that, he was gone.
With a slight of hand, the Theseus jumped into warp.
Ambler waited patiently, keeping his deamenour relaxed in front of the bridge crew. Inwardly, he was gnawing with uncertainty. Orders aside, did he do the right thing? Was appointing Hajar acting XO a good thing, or should he have gone with Sakik?
Questions, galore.
Furry eyed the back of the Saurian’s head. “ETA to Beta Thoridar?”
“A couple of hours.”
“Very good.” Furry grunted and rose to his feet. “Kyle, you have the bridge. I want to be alerted twenty minutes before we arrive.”
And with that, he was gone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Orbit around Beta Thoridar was your usual cargo haulers of every type imaginable, from ore carriers to blockade runners. Many were from the minor races, the hangers on within Alpha and Beta Quadrants, but Furry could make out vessels flying the colors of Federation members.
“Surprised to see them here,” muttered Crewman Oassa from flight control.
“Not necessarily,” said Hajar.
Furry, who had arrived not long before and stood next to Sinclair, glanced sideways at Hajar. “How so?” he asked with curiousity, noting that the lieutenant’s bearing had become more confident with each kilometer closer to the planet.
“The requirement is that all Federation flagged merchants go directly to Qo’o’nos, unload and fly back. Nice and easy, right?” said Hajar. “Reality’s a little different though. Plus, it’s not as if Beta Thoridar off the beaten path.”
Furry grunted, he knew all that, of course. Despite the somewhat lukewarmness of the cold war between the Federation and the Empire, trade was vital. Federation member states dealt with individual Great Houses economically, with the Federation Council pushing to use economics and trade as a means to conduct diplomacy with their counterparts on Qo’o’nos.
Of course, not every Great House agreed with the current way of doing business, and neither did some of the lesser houses. Skirmishes were commonplace as was counterespionage.
“You sure you don’t want me along, boss?” asked Hajar.
Furry eyed him. “Under the circumstances I’d rather keep you here. Think of it as good practice.”
“Practice, for what?”
“We’re being hailed,” announced Sinclair, who too was in civilian attire.
“Command.” Furry smiled at the lieutenant, and indicated the front screen. “You may want to answer that.”
“Huh?” Hajar blinked, until he remembered where he was. “Oh, right.” The lieutenant quickly made his way to the command chair, just as Furry strode to the turbo-lift. “On screen.”
Just then, an older looking Klingon appeared on the screen. Well, Furry assumed it was a Klingon, as the man looked more human. Still, the guy looked annoyed, sported the usual Van Dyke and long hair that was common amongst Klingon males.
“This is Minister Eshath, state your business Starfleet,” grumbled the Klingon.
“This is Lie--err--Captain Kyle Hajar,” announced Hajar.
Furry raised an eyebrow. Did the lieutenant slip up his own name, or was that deliberate? He shrugged. Instead, he gestured to Sinclair while stepping into the turbo-lift.
*
“What do you want?” snapped Minister Eshath on the main screen.
Seeing the turbo-lift doors slide shut, Hajar shifted in his seat. “We have a prisoner,” he began.
A part of him wondered if it would work, knowing full well that the captain was winging it since CSS47-A. Mistakes could occur, especially since none of the crew were trained in this sort of operation.
Another part was warming up to it.
Hajar was born for this. At least the Kylin host was. Wheeling and dealing, outsmarting the other guy.
“As he is Klingon, my superiors thought it prudent to pass him over to the nearest Imperial registrar,” said Hajar.
Minister Eshath looked unconvinced.
Orbit around Beta Thoridar was your usual cargo haulers of every type imaginable, from ore carriers to blockade runners. Many were from the minor races, the hangers on within Alpha and Beta Quadrants, but Furry could make out vessels flying the colors of Federation members.
“Surprised to see them here,” muttered Crewman Oassa from flight control.
“Not necessarily,” said Hajar.
Furry, who had arrived not long before and stood next to Sinclair, glanced sideways at Hajar. “How so?” he asked with curiousity, noting that the lieutenant’s bearing had become more confident with each kilometer closer to the planet.
“The requirement is that all Federation flagged merchants go directly to Qo’o’nos, unload and fly back. Nice and easy, right?” said Hajar. “Reality’s a little different though. Plus, it’s not as if Beta Thoridar off the beaten path.”
Furry grunted, he knew all that, of course. Despite the somewhat lukewarmness of the cold war between the Federation and the Empire, trade was vital. Federation member states dealt with individual Great Houses economically, with the Federation Council pushing to use economics and trade as a means to conduct diplomacy with their counterparts on Qo’o’nos.
Of course, not every Great House agreed with the current way of doing business, and neither did some of the lesser houses. Skirmishes were commonplace as was counterespionage.
“You sure you don’t want me along, boss?” asked Hajar.
Furry eyed him. “Under the circumstances I’d rather keep you here. Think of it as good practice.”
“Practice, for what?”
“We’re being hailed,” announced Sinclair, who too was in civilian attire.
“Command.” Furry smiled at the lieutenant, and indicated the front screen. “You may want to answer that.”
“Huh?” Hajar blinked, until he remembered where he was. “Oh, right.” The lieutenant quickly made his way to the command chair, just as Furry strode to the turbo-lift. “On screen.”
Just then, an older looking Klingon appeared on the screen. Well, Furry assumed it was a Klingon, as the man looked more human. Still, the guy looked annoyed, sported the usual Van Dyke and long hair that was common amongst Klingon males.
“This is Minister Eshath, state your business Starfleet,” grumbled the Klingon.
“This is Lie--err--Captain Kyle Hajar,” announced Hajar.
Furry raised an eyebrow. Did the lieutenant slip up his own name, or was that deliberate? He shrugged. Instead, he gestured to Sinclair while stepping into the turbo-lift.
*
“What do you want?” snapped Minister Eshath on the main screen.
Seeing the turbo-lift doors slide shut, Hajar shifted in his seat. “We have a prisoner,” he began.
A part of him wondered if it would work, knowing full well that the captain was winging it since CSS47-A. Mistakes could occur, especially since none of the crew were trained in this sort of operation.
Another part was warming up to it.
Hajar was born for this. At least the Kylin host was. Wheeling and dealing, outsmarting the other guy.
“As he is Klingon, my superiors thought it prudent to pass him over to the nearest Imperial registrar,” said Hajar.
Minister Eshath looked unconvinced.
*
The plan was simple enough: convince the locals that the shuttle pilot they shot at was guilty of carrying contraband. What exactly that contraband was to be? Well, that was up to the imagination. Between himself, Daviss, Commander Thompson and replicator, something was made up.
Whether it stuck up to whatever examinations Beta Thoridar had to offer was anyone’s guess, but Furry was confident that they would be long gone by then. And dreams are free!
“All set,” announced Daviss the moment he stepped aboard the Star Stallion’s interior.
The vessel looked clean, almost as if it had never been used by the crew. That’s about to change in a hurry, thought Furry as he spotted the Klingon shuttle pilot.
Handcuffed and blindfolded, the pilot was slumped over next to a deceivingly young Vulcan crewman and Sakik.
Also present was the young Andorian, dressed in civilian attire like himself, Sinclair and Daviss.
“Time we were underway, Lieutenant,” announced Furry.
Sakik nodded and turned around to the pilot.
The plan was simple enough: convince the locals that the shuttle pilot they shot at was guilty of carrying contraband. What exactly that contraband was to be? Well, that was up to the imagination. Between himself, Daviss, Commander Thompson and replicator, something was made up.
Whether it stuck up to whatever examinations Beta Thoridar had to offer was anyone’s guess, but Furry was confident that they would be long gone by then. And dreams are free!
“All set,” announced Daviss the moment he stepped aboard the Star Stallion’s interior.
The vessel looked clean, almost as if it had never been used by the crew. That’s about to change in a hurry, thought Furry as he spotted the Klingon shuttle pilot.
Handcuffed and blindfolded, the pilot was slumped over next to a deceivingly young Vulcan crewman and Sakik.
Also present was the young Andorian, dressed in civilian attire like himself, Sinclair and Daviss.
“Time we were underway, Lieutenant,” announced Furry.
Sakik nodded and turned around to the pilot.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Star Stallion cleanly separated from Theseus, flying through the forcefield that kept the atmosphere from leaking out of the shuttlebay. The Stallion then arched gently toward the planet below.
Furry stood directly behind the pilot and navigator, which was Sakik and a crewman he hadn’t yet met, his attention on the view outside the cockpit windows.
He pursed his lower lip thoughtfully, studying the orangish-brown clouds tinged in yellowish white.
“Looks dirty,” said Sakik absently.
“Dilithium mining does that to a planet if left unchecked,” countered Furry with a slight nod. “Having a red star also adds to the color.”
“Been here before, sir?”
Furry shrugged, quietly remembering his time aboard the Leverno. “Once or twice.”
“I read somewhere that it has an indiginous population,” offered the young crewman from the pilot’s seat.
Furry grunted acknowledgment. Before the Klingons conquered the system a hundred years prior, Beta Thoridor sported a civilisation years from experiencing its own version of Earth’s Industrial Revolution, split into nation states. The natives never stood a chance against the Klingon warriors. Now, the system was then used as a dilithium mine, one of the most important in Klingon space.
The Star Stallion shot through the clouds, continuing to descend. The surface was no different, just one big scarred landscape.
“City just ahead,” the crewman announced.
“You know what to do,” Furry addressed Sakik.
The Rigelian bobbed his head in the affirmative.
Giving the lieutenant one last reassuring glance, Furry strode to the back of the cabin. Crewman Thonaoss Ch'valnik was on the singular transporter bay, with Daviss manning the controls.
“Sinclair’s already beamed down,” the Caitian woman announced.
Furry nodded. The plan had been simple. Each member of the away team had been given coordinates to Hajar’s safehouse, before being beamed into the city below. They were to converge there. All going well, Commodore Lemed was waiting for them.
Furry’s job was more challenging. While Hajar may have scrounged up a safehouse, Furry counted on the fact that his old teammates still used Beta Thoridor as a waypoint into Klingon space.
The Andorian disappeared.
Furry punched in a set of coordinates into the console.
“Meet you at the safehouse,” he said while stepping onto the pad. “Energise.”
*
From his seat, Lieutenant Sakik watched as the last of the away team disintegrated in the transporter beam. He wished them luck.
Saying an additional prayer to the gods, Sakik turned to face the front. The captain said that the away team will meet them back aboard Starbase 234, hopefully with the commodore in tow.
The Star Stallion cleanly separated from Theseus, flying through the forcefield that kept the atmosphere from leaking out of the shuttlebay. The Stallion then arched gently toward the planet below.
Furry stood directly behind the pilot and navigator, which was Sakik and a crewman he hadn’t yet met, his attention on the view outside the cockpit windows.
He pursed his lower lip thoughtfully, studying the orangish-brown clouds tinged in yellowish white.
“Looks dirty,” said Sakik absently.
“Dilithium mining does that to a planet if left unchecked,” countered Furry with a slight nod. “Having a red star also adds to the color.”
“Been here before, sir?”
Furry shrugged, quietly remembering his time aboard the Leverno. “Once or twice.”
“I read somewhere that it has an indiginous population,” offered the young crewman from the pilot’s seat.
Furry grunted acknowledgment. Before the Klingons conquered the system a hundred years prior, Beta Thoridor sported a civilisation years from experiencing its own version of Earth’s Industrial Revolution, split into nation states. The natives never stood a chance against the Klingon warriors. Now, the system was then used as a dilithium mine, one of the most important in Klingon space.
The Star Stallion shot through the clouds, continuing to descend. The surface was no different, just one big scarred landscape.
“City just ahead,” the crewman announced.
“You know what to do,” Furry addressed Sakik.
The Rigelian bobbed his head in the affirmative.
Giving the lieutenant one last reassuring glance, Furry strode to the back of the cabin. Crewman Thonaoss Ch'valnik was on the singular transporter bay, with Daviss manning the controls.
“Sinclair’s already beamed down,” the Caitian woman announced.
Furry nodded. The plan had been simple. Each member of the away team had been given coordinates to Hajar’s safehouse, before being beamed into the city below. They were to converge there. All going well, Commodore Lemed was waiting for them.
Furry’s job was more challenging. While Hajar may have scrounged up a safehouse, Furry counted on the fact that his old teammates still used Beta Thoridor as a waypoint into Klingon space.
The Andorian disappeared.
Furry punched in a set of coordinates into the console.
“Meet you at the safehouse,” he said while stepping onto the pad. “Energise.”
*
From his seat, Lieutenant Sakik watched as the last of the away team disintegrated in the transporter beam. He wished them luck.
Saying an additional prayer to the gods, Sakik turned to face the front. The captain said that the away team will meet them back aboard Starbase 234, hopefully with the commodore in tow.
*
The last of the transporter residue wore off and Ambler Furry blinked. The sky was rose pink, almost red.
He looked about.
The Star Stallion’s transporter deposited him in an alleyway, snuggly located between two four-story buildings. He was right where he needed to be.
Furry eyed the passing crowd. A mixed bag from what he could tell. Klingons, many of them being the smooth forehead-like QuchHa, native Betas and the occasional Orion and Nausicaan.
“Home sweet home,” muttered Furry, raising the collar of his beige jacket and stepped out into the crowd.
Of course, his actual home was Dublin in what was Ireland on Earth. This world was just an assignment, at least it had been when he had been aboard the Independence and Leverno. It had been one of those worlds that he nonetheless knew quite well. Furry kept on walking, until he found what he was looking for. It was a bakery, owned by a Beta family Captain Crowley had initially recruited all those years ago. The patriarch was a man codenamed Adam. Well, more tortuous than man, recalled Furry.
Pushing the front door open, he stepped into the bakery. It was empty, bar for an elderly Beta walking towards the door Furry had entered through. He held the door open for the Beta, and watched her go.
“Can I -” Adam started across the counter, only to stop and his eyes widened. “Ambler?”
“I thought you passed onto the Next Circle,” Adam announced, referrin to the local version of the afterlife.
Ambler shook his head. “I’m afraid the end of my demise has been exaggerated.” he said, wondering who had told Adam he was dead.
“So, you’re not dead?”
“Afraid not, Adam. Just reassigned.” Furry chuckled. “How are you doing?”
The Beta blinked, hard. “Fine, fine, just fine.”
“Business good?”
“Yes, of course, yes.”
“And your other business?” Ambler allowed himself a small smile. Supported by Captain Crowley, Starfleet Intelligence and the SMTs, Adam had carved out quite an impressive smuggling operation here and off-world.
“That, that depends,” Adam stemmered.
Furry cocked his head. “On?”
“On what you need.”
Commander Ambler Furry, captain of the border cutter Theseus, smiled.
The last of the transporter residue wore off and Ambler Furry blinked. The sky was rose pink, almost red.
He looked about.
The Star Stallion’s transporter deposited him in an alleyway, snuggly located between two four-story buildings. He was right where he needed to be.
Furry eyed the passing crowd. A mixed bag from what he could tell. Klingons, many of them being the smooth forehead-like QuchHa, native Betas and the occasional Orion and Nausicaan.
“Home sweet home,” muttered Furry, raising the collar of his beige jacket and stepped out into the crowd.
Of course, his actual home was Dublin in what was Ireland on Earth. This world was just an assignment, at least it had been when he had been aboard the Independence and Leverno. It had been one of those worlds that he nonetheless knew quite well. Furry kept on walking, until he found what he was looking for. It was a bakery, owned by a Beta family Captain Crowley had initially recruited all those years ago. The patriarch was a man codenamed Adam. Well, more tortuous than man, recalled Furry.
Pushing the front door open, he stepped into the bakery. It was empty, bar for an elderly Beta walking towards the door Furry had entered through. He held the door open for the Beta, and watched her go.
“Can I -” Adam started across the counter, only to stop and his eyes widened. “Ambler?”
“I thought you passed onto the Next Circle,” Adam announced, referrin to the local version of the afterlife.
Ambler shook his head. “I’m afraid the end of my demise has been exaggerated.” he said, wondering who had told Adam he was dead.
“So, you’re not dead?”
“Afraid not, Adam. Just reassigned.” Furry chuckled. “How are you doing?”
The Beta blinked, hard. “Fine, fine, just fine.”
“Business good?”
“Yes, of course, yes.”
“And your other business?” Ambler allowed himself a small smile. Supported by Captain Crowley, Starfleet Intelligence and the SMTs, Adam had carved out quite an impressive smuggling operation here and off-world.
“That, that depends,” Adam stemmered.
Furry cocked his head. “On?”
“On what you need.”
Commander Ambler Furry, captain of the border cutter Theseus, smiled.
