"Too Little, Too Late..." A Star Trek: Victory Vignette

[Orbing Master]

I don't normally post 'in-progress' pieces (with the exception of my ongoing collab "Contact Point" with @Gibraltar ). Thought I'd change things up a bit

"Star Trek: Victory" is a novella I'm planning and outlining, set in the year 2395, a few years off from the "Picard"-era. But I've had a story bouncing around my brain for past few weeks that needed to get written! It focuses on Andrus Darric, the man who will become the Commanding Officer of the Starship Victory.

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Victory Vignette #1: "Too Little, Too Late..."
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Mars had been set ablaze...

As Commander Andrus Darric rose from the command chair on the bridge of the Starship Meridian, bathed in the lurid light of Red Alert, it was all he could do not to let out a desperate cry of anguish. Anguish, that was only partly his own.

A Betazoid, his telepathic and empathic skills would be considering nominally average among his kind. But he was still psi-sensitive enough to pick up on the shock and horrified awe of the crew of the Nova-class science vessel, as they all watched the tragedy unfurling in front of them.

The attack had come from nowhere, as the Sol system was caught up in the festivities of First Contact Day. One minute, Darric had been enjoying a synthehol in the Quantum Cafe at Starfleet Command, enjoying his downtime, the next he'd been summoned back aboard the Meridian, with orders to proceed to Mars at top speed. When he'd read the dispatch, he couldn't quite believe it. This has got to be some kind of sick joke, right?

He only wished it were.

The forward viewscreen of the Meridian's circular bridge showed an image of utter and almost incomprehensible carnage. What had been home to a mighty fleet of ships was gone. The once grand and majestic sight of the Utopia Planitia Shipyards now just a collection of free-floating flotsam. Debris spinning through the void.

In the midst of it all, telltale flashes of red lightning indicated ongoing phaser strikes fired by an unknown and unseen enemy. Below all that, fires burned away at the Martian surface, the colonies and settlements caught in an unholy conflagration of destruction.

"What happened here?" He finally managed to choke the words out from numb lips. Pushing his own fears and concerns down as far as he could. Deal with the now. Not the what-ifs, he reminded himself, calling on every single lesson he'd learned in his time as a command-division officer.

When no-one answered him, he couldn't blame them. He understood there was no point getting angry with his shocked skeleton crew. With most of the crew on leave, while the Meridian had been in spacedock for a needed maintenance overhaul at the San Francisco Yards, they had to make do with what they had.

But Darric has served as the Meridian's Executive Officer for four years; he had faith they'd step up to the challenge. Still, he made a point to add a bit more steel to his voice as he spoke again, "Someone, give me a report. Now."

Ensign Hrannivan sh'Lanis, one of the junior science officers, finally snapped out of her own stupor, quickly pulling up sensor reports, "The orbital shipyards have been completely obliterated, Commander. There are also multiple ships firing on the surface of the planet." Darric didn't need his abilities to know how confused and utterly aghast she was, he could hear it in her voice. See it in the way her Andorian antennae lay straight against her shock of white hair, "It appears the weapons fire is igniting flammable vapours in the stratosphere!"

"Who are they?!" Darric wasn't actually expecting an answer to his outburst. The Federation, despite its openness and often-stated desire for peace, had its fair share of enemies. But when sh'Lanis answered him, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Sir, according to the sensors, they're our own ships! I'm reading dozens of Deimos-class and Phobos-class ships from the Mars defence network!"

Darric couldn't be more confused. Synth ships?! Had they been boarded by some kind of invading hostile force? The A500 androids that crewed them would not be able to put up any kind of resistance. They were simple mechanics and labourers, built and designed for that sole function.

"Commander!" Darric turned to look at Lieutenant Commander Pietro Rossi, the Meridian's chief of security. He was also Darric's acting first officer, while he himself was in command due to Captain Larkin being off the ship and not able to be reached before their abrupt launch.

The handsome Italian man's features were twisted by an ugly rage, "I'm getting confirmed reports that this isn't an alien attack..."

"It's the f**king 'Synths' doing this!"

The Betazoid felt his insides grow cold with shock. That's-- that shouldn't be possible...

This can't be happening!

"That's not all, sir!" Rossi continued, looking back at his tactical monitors, "The entire planetary defence system seems to be compromised! The deflectors are down and the orbital satellites are carpet-bombing the surface!"

A white-hot fury bloomed in Darric's chest, his fists clenching, as he began to issue orders to his crew, "Divert auxiliary power to shields. Lock phaser and quantum torpedoes on the nearest targets and fire as soon as we're in range!"

Rossi nodded briskly, tapping at his controls, glad to be finally acting, not reacting, "Aye, sir!"

Right now, he didn't care how they'd gotten here. All that mattered was stopping it before any more lives were lost. "Take us in!"

On the viewscreen, Darric watched as phaser fire lanced out from the saucer section's forward-mounted phaser arrays, soon joined by a volley of torpedoes that struck the closest frigate. They slammed into the hull, incinerating it within seconds. They don't even have their shields up? What in the name of the Holy Rings is going on here? It's like the universe has lost its damned mind...

Darric was forced back to the command chair as the Meridian was rocked by an impact of some kind. He could almost hear the hull ringing and groaning under protest. "Report! Was that a phaser strike?"

"No, Commander," answered sh'Lanis. "The entire region is littered with debris from the shipyards. That was a hull fragment from a Wallenberg-class transport tug hitting our shields."

Darric acknowledged the Andorian's report, quickly reminding the young Saurian at the conn to take more care with where she flew the ship. The Nova-class ship may have originally been a science vessel but had undergone significant tactical and flight-control upgrades since those early days. Still, it was never meant to take that kind of punishment.

But they would prevail. They had to.

Darric had never thought of himself as a soldier. He was a scientist. An explorer. But right now, that wasn't what was needed. What they needed now was for him to lead this crew into whatever lay ahead...

* * *

 

[Orbing Master]

The attack ended almost as quickly and abruptly as it began.

One moment, Darric was ordering evasive manoeuvres to bring the Meridian out of the path of two Deimos-class frigates laying into the remains of a drydock. The next, all the frigates had lost all power. Begun to drift among the carnage they had wrought only moments before.

"Full scan, Ensign," he ordered, wanting as much information as possible. Were they just playing possum? They had all gone off-line at exactly the same moment.

Through the debris, Darric could see other Starfleet vessels braving the remnants of what had once been the crowning example of Federation shipbuilding standards. The pale blue light of tractor-beams gently pushing away the rubble and fragments of destroyed ships and orbital stations, making a clear path for the fleet coming to Mar's aid.

"Commander," sh'Lanis finally answered, her voice wavering, "I'm not picking up any activity on all the remaining Synth ships." Her eyes wide and antenna straight up, "They're all just gone totally inert."

"Then I say we lock weapons and blow them all to Hell!"

Darric took a ragged breath as he faced Rossi. "Back off, Commander," he quietly warned the acting First Officer. "We have no idea what happened here. We need to--"

"Are you kidding me?!" Rossi was clearly having none of it. He leaned heavily on the railing that encircled the bridge. Glaring at Darric with eyes filled with mania. The hostility and overriding fury were coming off him in waves, strong enough to give the Betazoid the beginnings of a headache. "We should take those things down before they have a chance to come back on-line and kill any more people!"

"That won't bring anyone back, Pietro," Darric countered, trying to remain calm in contrast to the security officer's growing hysteria. "We need to figure out what happened here. The bio-neural matrices of the synths may be the only thing that--"

"Screw that!" Rossi pulled away from the railing, backing up to his console, looking to Darric with utter disgust, "They need to pay for what they did!"

Darric realized what the security chief was about to do a split-second before he did it, "Rossi, no!"

Too late. Rossi furiously tapped in a series of commands, before slapping his hand on the console with finality.

The distinctive sound of phaser discharge brought Darric's attention to the viewscreen, as weapons fire from the Meridian's fore struck the closest inert Phobos-class frigate, slicing it in two. Each section drifted in space for mere seconds before being consumed by the fire of a fusion core detonation.

"Phasers initiating automatic targetting, Commander!" It was sh'Lanis who cried out the warning. Thinking fast, Darric raced to the console between the two command chairs on the Meridian's bridge. Input his own authorization and shut down the phasers with an override code.

"What the Hell are you doing?!" Rossi cried out with indignation and disbelief.

Darric spun back around to face the man. "You are out of line, Commander Rossi. Do not make me relieve you of duty and confine you to quarters."

Rossi's eyes were wide with near-apoplectic rage, "Are you kidding me?" With surprising speed, he effortless leapt over the railing and lunged for Darric, "We have to destroy--"

Reacting on pure instinct, Darric lashed out with a solid right hook. His fist caught Rossi square in the face, knocking him back. He was unconscious before he even hit the deck.

Shaking his fist and flexing his fingers in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain, Darric looked down at the insensate Rossi with a mixture of pity and disappointment. "Consider yourself relieved."

* * *

 

[Gibraltar]

A fantastic start! I can't wait to read more.

 

[admiralelm11]

I like how Darric handled Rossi. There was no way that he was going to get away with disobeying orders from a superior officer. I'm sure that there's a nice bunk for him at the New Zealand Rehabilitation Center. You know... after his court-martial...

 

[Orbing Master]

More coming soon! Pretty much done the next scene, but just want to tighten it, cross my 'T's and dot my 'I's before I post it The following scene has hit a few roadblocks, but I'm getting there with it...

 

[CeJay]

Interesting look at the events from ST: Picard told from the perspective of a responding starship.

Clearly, though, not Starfleet's finest. Starfleet officers can't all be Vulcans, but Rossi's emotions are out of control. Darric should have relieved him the moment he disobeyed orders and started firing. Although, I somewhat doubt that would have changed the outcome by much.

 

[Orbing Master]

The headache was slowly becoming a migraine. But right now, Darric felt like he needed that pain to keep going.

In the seven hours since the Synth ships had gone off-line, a task force of aid vessels had arrived to lend assistance. Sector 001 may have been the heart of the Federation, but with the loss of the ships at Utopia Planitia, there were now only a handful of Starfleet ships in-system, including the Meridian. The crew had been given their orders by Commodore Alicia Niedermeyer, the Sector Chief for Starfleet Security, who had taken command of the fleet personally.

The news media all across the solar system was already blasting reports about the 'Synth Revolt' that had originally been estimated to have claimed the lives of around 3000 people. But now, at the current tally, that number had risen to over forty thousand. A number that was expected to grow even higher as the calamity that had befallen Mars was evaluated.

On the surface, fires raged from the stratospheric vapours the weapons fire had ignited. The domed cities lay broken and burned out. Ares City, Bradbury City, Fort Lincoln, New Venice, Robinson Township. So many others. All of them gone.

The thermal stations that had been slowly terraforming the 'red planet' into a class-M world were totally gutted by the flames. Their experienced and headstrong engineers gone in an instant. Ships at Bradbury Spaceport had exploded, adding their fuel to the raging fires. Endurance University, McKay University, two of the best academic campuses in the Sol system, were now just ash and ruin.

All anyone was talking about was the apparent culprits responsible. What had made a select group of A500 synthetic androids go 'rogue', as it was being labelled by the press. Had it been some kind of colossal malfunction in their neural nets? A programming error input during their construction and laying dormant upon activation until now? Some kind of outside source that had influenced their behaviour?

The Federation News Service was abuzz with wild speculation, reporting on demonstrations by pro-Synth rights groups degenerating into mass brawls with anti-Synth protestors. Dr Bruce Maddox, the noted cyberneticist responsible for the creation of the A500s, was so far refusing to comment on any of the theories and speculation regarding this aberrant behaviour.

But none of that mattered to Andrus Darric right now. At the moment, even with all the Meridian's crew's heightened emotions slowly chipping away at his mental defences, all Darric cared about now was one thing.

Is my family among the list of the dead?

He had been unable to find any rest in these last few hours. All his calls to Betazed, where his husband and daughter lived, had gone unanswered. Had they arrived on Mars on schedule? Neill had teased him about the possibility of getting an earlier transport, but if they had... If they'd been on Mars when the attack occurred--

No. Stop it. Do not go there. Not yet.

Darric forced himself to take a calming breath. He needed to centre himself. Reinforce his mental barriers to avoid being overwhelmed by the sheer level of emotion he was sensing. The Meridian's entire crew was on edge as they went about their task, helping with rescue and retrieval. Trying to find any kind of answer to explain just what had happened.

He stood, with the intent to go to the replicator and get another cup of needed coffee, but was halted when his door chime beeped for attention. "Come on in."

When Elias Larkin, the Starship Meridian's commanding officer, stepped into his quarters, Darric couldn't have been more surprised. He quickly stood straighter, feeling like a schoolboy caught out of class, "Captain..?!"

"At ease, Commander," Larkin quickly waved protocol out of the way. As the tall black man looked around the room, Darric was suddenly struck by the fact that in four years of serving as his X.O., he'd never had the captain drop by his quarters. They worked well together, but their relationship had always been strictly professional. Whereas Darric took time to socialize and mingle with the rest of the small ship's crew, Larkin had always kept him at a distance.

When the captain finally faced him, Darric realized his own confusion must have been apparent. "I came in with the Warspite," Larkin explained patiently. The Prometheus-class tactical cruiser was serving as Commodore Niedermeyer's flagship for the task force. "You did a commendable job, Mr Darric. But I'm here now, so let's try to get things back on track, hmm?"

Darric narrowed his eyes. What is that I'm sensing? Normally, he would never intrude deliberately on someone's mental privacy, but he was tired and emotionally wrung-out. He could feel the captain's anxiety and worry about something, but it was just tickling the outer edges of Darric's psionic perception.

For the sake of his already-strained relationship with Larkin, he pulled back, trying to ignore what he was picking up. "Of course, sir," he replied. "Do you need a status report?"

Larkin shook his head dismissively, "No, no. I'm already caught up." Darric nodded, frowning a little. If he was, as he said, 'caught up', he undoubtedly knew about the incident with Rossi. But as he opened his mouth to explain in more detail, Larkin cut him off, "I've also reinstated Commander Rossi, as well."

"Excuse me?" Darric couldn't believe what he was hearing. Rossi was a fine officer, but what he had done had been appalling. No matter how one felt about 'synths' and their status, what Rossi had done was unacceptable. "Captain, his actions were--"

"Mr Darric." Larkin's tone brokered no insolence. "Commander Rossi's behaviour was regrettable, but also understandable, given the situation and the devastation you were all witness to. So, I see no need to ruin a promising officer's career."

Darric bit off an angry retort. Just like his relationship with the captain, Darric and Rossi had worked well together for the past four years, but they were not friends. He was fully aware that Rossi was something of a protege of Larkin's. That, if Larkin had had his way, Rossi would have been made the Meridian's Executive Officer when the position became available. Instead, the decision had been out of his hands and so, Darric had been assigned to the vacant post.

He also understood that there was little point in arguing about it. "Is that your final decision on this matter, sir?"

"It is." Larkin pursed his lips. Darric could sense the man was struggling with his own emotions, but his calm and collected facade didn't waver in the slightest. "We - the entire Federation - have taken a hit today. We need to come together and support one another, not point fingers and cast aspersions."

Darric suppressed the urge to grimace in disgust. No matter how one felt about the Synths, about their level of self-awareness and right to exist, what Rossi had done went against everything Darric believed in.

Whatever their actions during the attack, the security chief had no right to fire on a defenceless ship and crew that had ceased hostilities. Would he have done the same if the crew had been sentient, organic, life-forms?

Darric hoped he would never learn the answer to that chilling question. But it didn't really matter.

He knew what he had to do.

* * *

 

[admiralelm11]

Powerful stuff, Orbing. Very powerful stuff. I like it.

 

[Orbing Master]

First Officer's Personal Log, stardate 62389.7:
I can finally breathe again. My family is alive. I got the confirmation call only an hour ago. Never have I been so thankful for the delay to civilian traffic that First Contact Day always brings. Both Neill and Esme are still at Eros Station, having missed their original booked transport by minutes.
But what relief I feel is tempered by the sheer scale of deaths we’re seeing. The casualty figures continue to rise. We now have almost 62,000 confirmed dead. The task force continues to do what it can, but it has become clear that this more about clean-up than rescue. The so-called 'Attack on Mars', as it is now becoming known as, is the single largest mass casualty event in an era of peace.
The Meridian is now seconded to work as part of a joint operation between Starfleet Security and the Corps of Engineers, taking the lead investigating the so-called 'synth problem'. As such, we have been sorting through the wreckage of Utopia Planitia for any intact bodies of A500s.
However, this has led me to become aware of a rather disturbing problem reported by division heads. One that I am taking it upon myself to deal with.

As the hours trickled slowly by, Darric had tried to go about his tasks as efficiently as possible, but it had been difficult to keep his attention on them. Although he now knew that the two people he loved most in the universe - his Imzadi and his beautiful baby girl - were safely away from the carnage, all he wanted to do was talk to them.

But comm-lines throughout the Sol System were jammed and overloaded. For now, he just had to settle for the knowledge that they had each other and that they knew that he was out of harm’s way. In truth, he'd been lucky to have received the all-too-short recorded message sent via data-burst on a secure frequency. A perk of Neill's work with the Federation Consulate on Betazed that Darric was now very grateful for.

He did what he could to go about the daily activities that made up his duties as Executive Officer of a small Nova-class starship. However, as he sat in his office going over some personnel issues, he felt a growing sense of shame and disappointment in the crew under his command. It was not a feeling he had been familiar with in his time aboard the Meridian.

As part of their new assignment, several intact androids had already been extricated from the remains of the shipyard, all inert with no hint of life, now being stored in the empty Shuttlebay. They had been recovered alongside a whole mess of 'parts' of others that had not survived the destruction intact, so these were collected for retrieval in the Cargo Bay.

A limb there. A torso here. The odd head. Stored for later examination by technicians that would be coming in from the Division of Advanced Synthetic Research of the Daystrom Institute campus in Okinawa. A rather ghoulish task in some respects, but nowhere near as thankless as the task of finding and locating the bodies of the dead. A task that three dedicated Olympic-class hospital ships were now seeing to.

Since then, he had witnessed behaviour among the crew that had dismayed him. It had seemed harmless at first, a way for tired and emotionally overwrought people to blow off some steam after what they had all bore witness to hours ago. A kind of 'gallows humour' that Darric might have been willing to let pass in another time and place if it had been an isolated incident. But it hadn't been.

The A500s had been a source of contention since their activation. There were those who felt that it wasn't right to create a race of beings just to use them as enhanced labourers. Dr Farallon's exocomps, and the Federation's recognition of their sentience, had been referenced. Others believed that they were nothing more than sophisticated tools and deserved no more respect or consideration than a replicator, a hyperspanner or a sonic screwdriver. Their humanoid appearance and ability to communicate with surprising eloquence but limited understanding notwithstanding.

The truth was, Darric did not share that latter belief. While he was not sure just how self-aware the A500s were, for him it was a simple matter of being uncomfortable with the idea of a race of barely-sentient automatons acting as a kind of slave race.

He understood the logistics of it; that they had been created exclusively to focus on building the Romulan Relocation Fleet and designed to lack the 'spark of life' that other Soong-type androids like the late Commander Data of the Enterprise had.

But that never sat right with Darric. The Federation outlaws and abhors slavery. How could they have ever signed off on it? Darric had been lucky enough to serve a few years aboard both the Galaxy-class iteration and its Sovereign-class successor, with the android as his immediate superior. He'd bore witness to how much the artificial life form had grown and evolved, especially after he'd begun using an 'emotion chip' shortly before the Enterprise-D had been destroyed above Veridian III.

It had been the strong belief from came from those experiences that had pushed Darric. That he felt obligated to remind the crew he overheard talking about the Synths in a derogatory fashion. They were Starfleet officers. They were held to a higher standard. That as explorers, they welcomed and accepted life in all its forms. Organic or not. To talk in that kind of way was unbecoming.

Especially those crew who were in positions of authority, such as being a member of the senior staff.

Since returning to duty, sporting a significant bruise from where Darric's fist had landed, Pietro Rossi had barely said two words beyond what the job required between X.O and Security Chief. Not that the Betazoid had anything particular he wanted to say to the other man, anyway. Whatever respect he had held for Rossi had evaporated when he had fired at an unshielded, powerless vessel.

But from the reports he had received from members of the crew who felt as he did, it seemed Rossi was leading the charge, stirring up any and all resentment and anger towards Synths he could, from officers and crew alike. When Darric had summoned him to a meeting, he had made no effort to deny it, either. In fact, he had seemed proud of it, which only increased Darric's ire and disappointment.

If he'd held any regrets about the decision he'd made several hours ago, they too had been eliminated by this latest behaviour. The sooner Rossi was brought to heel for his actions, the happier Darric would be. Which was why he had agreed with, endorsed and signed off on the few disciplinary actions that would be undertaken by the department heads and section chiefs. Most of it would only amount to the proverbial 'slap on the wrist', but he hoped that it would be enough to douse the embers of prejudice that had been enflamed.

[Larkin to Darric.]

Darric could hear the cold steel in the captain's voice. It gave him a moment's pause before he finally acknowledged the call. "Darric here."

[Report to my quarters. On the double.]

The channel closed without further ado. Darric left his office behind with a resigned sigh, making the short trip from Deck Two up to the Captain's Quarters one deck up. Here we go.

Moments later, he pressed the door chime, the doors opening a split second later, allowing him entry. He strode in, standing to attention in front of Larkin, who was currently facing away from Darric as he started out of the room's viewports.

"Reporting as ordered, sir," he offered briskly and formally. Darric again felt a niggling of something buried deep within his commanding officer's psyche on the outer edges of his telepathic reception. But Larkin was a man who very much kept his emotions under lock-and-key. Again, Darric pulled his senses back, choosing instead to brace himself for what he knew was coming.

After another moment, Larkin spun around with a look of outrage. He waved a PADD he held in the air for effect, "What the Devil is this, Commander?"

Darric kept his eyes on Larkin as the older man flung the PADD onto the coffee table, before he continued on with his diatribe, "I thought I specifically told you to leave well enough alone. But instead, I find you've not only put a formal reprimand in Commander Rossi's service record, without my approval, but you have also been pulling aside members of the crew and lecturing them on 'acceptable behaviour'?"

Larkin stepped forward, his glower intensifying, "What the Hell are you thinking?"

In counterpoint to his commanding officer's outburst, Darric remained cool and steady, refusing to rise to it. "I am doing only what I feel I have to, sir as Executive Officer. Commander Rossi's actions on the bridge cost useful intelligence, not to mention were amoral and unethical. Since his return to duty, his continuing behaviour and callous disregard for the A500s is unacceptable and is causing dissent among the crew."

"They were machines, Darric. They weren't really alive." Larkin's disdain was clear. "Most probably because of crossed wires or faulty programming, they slaughtered thousands. Mars may never be the same again." He turned away, shaking his head, "What does it matter if the crew make a few off-colour comments?"

"It goes deeper than that, Captain, and you know it," Darric finally responded, trying to appeal to whatever common ground he still had with his superior officer, "It also doesn't change the fact that Commander Rossi acted in a manner unbefitting someone of his rank, station and position. I could not let that go, despite your request."

Larkin glared at him for a long moment. The silence seemed to drag on before he finally spoke with a shockingly quiet voice. "If that is how you feel, Commander," he said coolly, "then I supposed there is nothing I can do to change your mind." He fixed him with a steely glare, "But rest assured, I will not be lending my support to this report."

To be honest, Darric had seen that coming and had expected it. He didn't need Betazoid senses to feel how disappointed Larkin was in him, either. It was a mutual feeling. He was also very aware that whatever rapport he and his captain had developed the past four years had been badly damaged by this difference of opinion.

However, Darric stood by his actions and decisions. He had known he might pay a price for going against Larkin in this way, and that it might cost him the trust he'd earned in his position aboard the Meridian.

But after all this, he wasn't sure this was where he wanted to be anymore, either.

* * *

Sleep had been elusive for Darric that night. He had spent several restless hours considering what his future might be. It felt that the Meridian may no longer be the place for him. He could put some calls into a few people, perhaps take a lateral move to a similar posting, or at a starbase or outpost that could use his diplomatic and scientific know-how. Maybe I could even take up Admiral Picard on his long-standing offer to join his staff on the Verity..?

He'd finally drifted off and managed to get a few hours relative rest, but that morning, the replicator was his best friend, providing much-needed caffeine. The transport ferrying the Daystrom people had finally rendezvoused with them two hours ago, having been delayed due to navigational hazards. The cybernetic team's equipment had been beamed directly to both the Meridian's science labs, on Deck 3, as the specialists took their time setting it up to conduct their detailed examinations.

But any and all thoughts about his career went out of his head when the call from Eros Spaceport Control came in. His heart skipped a beat, before buoying with pure joy as he broke into a wide and happy grin at the much-needed sight of his imzadi and daughter on his wall screen. "Oh, it is so good to see you two! But how--?"

[Let's just say that I think I cashed in every favour I'm owed, and I'm probably going to be paying people back up until I retire.] Neill's dazzling eyes were filled with worry. [But I really don't care about all that. We're just really happy to see you as well.]

Esme, as precocious and impatient as he remembered, leaned in close to the screen, [We miss you, Daddy. Why couldn't we come to Mars, like we were supposed to?]

Darric saw the briefest flash of guilty shame cross his husband's face. How do you explain the sheer loss of life to someone that young? He couldn't fault Neill his decision to avoid the subject for now. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but Mars isn't very safe right now." He then mustered his cheekiest smile, "Don't worry, though, because as soon as I can, I will come to you."

Esme's eyes widened with joy as she beamed with glee, [Promise?]

He nodded energetically, "Double-Promise, extra strong."

The grin faded as he saw the penetrating glare Neill was giving him before he snuggled with Esme, [Why don't you go finish your dinner while I talk to Daddy?]

After blowing a kiss goodbye, Esme dropped out of frame. Darric waited for the inevitable as Neill studied him dubiously before lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, [Okay, Andy, spill it. What the Hell is going on?]

Darric smiled softly. He knows me too damn well, so of course, he's gonna see through me. There was no point in even attempting to hide it. So, he let it all come out, taking a seat as he poured his heart out to his beloved, who listened quietly and patiently.

When the recounting was finally over, Neill actually growled in anger, [What a dick.]

Darric couldn't help but laugh. A Professor of Linguistics who moonlighted working with the Federation Diplomatic Corps, who could speak a dozen languages, yet who still tended to fall back into 20th century Earth slang when he was annoyed or upset. One of the many reasons I love him. "Pretty much, yeah."

Neill's eyes bore into him deeper still, [But there's something else, isn't there?]

It took Neill saying it out loud for Darric to finally admit it to himself, before nodding hesitantly, "When I've been around Larkin, I've sensed... I don't know, something, I guess. Like a tickling at my brain, that there's a ball of strong, turbulent emotion, buried deep inside. I don't know what it--"

[Ensign Kline to Commander Darric.]

Shooting an apologetic look to Neill, Darric tapped his combadge, "Go ahead, Ensign."

[Sorry to call you, sir,] Kline apologized. The young junior officer was the Hanger Chief, responsible for maintaining the Meridian's shuttle complement and embarked craft, [But we've got a problem.]

"What is it, Ensign?" Something about the nervous tremor in the green ensign's voice gave Darric pause. It unsettled him more than he'd like to admit.

[I'm outside the Shuttlebay with the rest of my shift team,] Kline replied, her anxiety growing. [We can't get in, sir. All the access points have been sealed and the computer won't let us in.]

Darric's unease grew worse. A shiver went down his spine. That would take high-level security overrides. He looked to the screen, saw the understanding in his husband's eyes. [Go do your job, babe. We'll see you soon. Remember your promise.]

Neill touched the screen with affection before his image vanished. God, I love that man. Taking a moment to centre himself, Darric stood from his seat, "Computer, under whose authorization is the Shuttlebay locked down?"

As he queried the computer, he suspected there was only one answer. The reply came almost instantly, devoid of inflexion, confirming his fear. [Captain Elias Larkin.]

"And where is Captain Larkin?"

Again, the computer's feminine and emotionless tone was near-instant, [Captain Larkin is in the Shuttlebay.]

* * *

 

[admiralelm11]

This aggression against the Synths is illogical. What are Larkin and Rossi thinking?

 

[Orbing Master]

This aggression against the Synths is illogical. What are Larkin and Rossi thinking?

I hope that means you're liking it, Jack Larkin's reasoning will hopefully become clear in the upcoming denouement ...

 

[admiralelm11]

Hopefully, it will. I would hate to see any ship erupt in mutiny.

 

[Gibraltar]

Outstanding exploration of the confusion, frustration and anger that follows a disaster of this magnitude.

I wonder what the enigmatic Captain Larkin is up to in there?

 

[Orbing Master]

thank you for the kind words, @Gibraltar Hoping to have the final few scenes done soon. RL is getting in the way once again...

 

[Sgt_G]

That was a pretty decent read. Or rather, listen, as I had MS-WORD read it aloud to me.