Treacherous Waters - Chapter 11
Chapter 11 <combined>
Once the crew’s identities had been confirmed and basic trust between the personnel established, the levee of mutual paranoia collapsed and the cooperative process leaped ahead. Sandhurst called over the rest of his senior staff, who met with Aubrey’s senior officers in the briefing room. As the crews sat across from one another, Ramirez’s barely bridled intensity set an obvious counterpoint to Shantok’s reserved demeanor, even in the face of such recent personal loss. Juneau fidgeted while shooting repeated glances at Cal Benjamin, and Lar’ragos looked on with passive equanimity, apparently heedless of Adol’s piercing scrutiny.
Sandhurst brought the Intrepid’s officers up to speed on everything that had transpired since the Gibraltar had arrived in the Gamma Quadrant, right up to their nearly fateful rendezvous hours earlier. Bringing his update to a close, the Gibraltar captain summarized bleakly, “So, all we have to show at present for nearly twenty-five hundred Starfleet dead is a brief snippet of footage of what appears to be Sharm being escorted by Jem’Hadar soldiers. Velkohn itself is on the precipice of descending into civil war, and parties unknown in our vicinity have access to a super-weapon that we know little to nothing about.”
Turning slightly in his chair to gauge the impact of his statement on the Intrepid’s officers, Sandhurst endeavored to confirm his place in the food chain, as well as that of his crew. “Per Starfleet regs, Captain Aubrey is clearly the final authority here, by virtue of his ship’s tactical superiority as well as his experience and time-at-grade as captain.” He locked eyes with his counterpart, “I accept your authority without qualification, but I would like to make an argument for taking Gibraltar back to the planet to try and help establish some kind of effective interim government.” Sandhurst realized the importance of publically acknowledging Aubrey’s status in front of his own senior staff, as it would immediately lay to rest any doubt as to who was ultimately in charge.
The other captain nodded graciously to Sandhurst. Aubrey was not a man who was driven to lead. He would have been just as comfortable taking orders were their situations reversed. But he accepted Starfleet regulations in this matter, just as Sandhurst did. He was grateful for the man’s professionalism. Aubrey had met his share of officers whose insecurities would have been a liability in this situation. Time was often squandered away with posturing, rather than resolving the crisis at hand.
“I’m certainly in favor of giving any humanitarian aid to the Velk.” He began carefully, feeling the weight of his command responsibilities double. “I’m less enthused about helping them create an interim government. As everyone here already knows, the Prime Directive forbids us from taking sides in a planet’s internal conflicts. Therefore, any aid we give will have to be nonpartisan.”
“Respectfully, Captain,” Pell spoke up, “things are so bad right now between the competing factions, that without a neutral voice guiding them in their negotiations, war will likely break out in less than a week. Captain Sandhurst and I have already managed to get the parties talking, and we’d like to pick up where we left off while Gibraltar assists with disaster relief efforts.” The Bajoran’s look was serious as she underscored her point, “Despite the fact that we’re a small escort ship, we’ve got good people, and this isn’t our first time to the rodeo, sir. We’ve been very careful not to take sides.”
“Granted.” He said to Pell. Turning back to Sandhurst, he continued. “Don’t misunderstand me; you and your crew’s abilities aren’t in question here. You’ve made admirable progress towards stabilizing the climate on Velkohn. And I think that it makes sense for you to continue your efforts.” Folding his hands in front of him, he addressed Gibraltar’s officers. “My advice, for whatever it’s worth, is to not underestimate your role. I’ve been down this road myself on more than one occasion. I know how easy it is to have your objectivity compromised.”
Shantok spoke next. “Sharm’s apparent survival may offer hope. If it were possible to retrieve him, his return to Velkohn could fortify the situation. As the only survivor of the former government, he could be regarded as their rightful leader.”
“Or it could make things worse. Sharm’s return could be seen as a threat by any interim government whose members opposed the previous administration.” Adol put forth with his usual pessimism.
Ramirez interjected, “Sharm’s status as the last living member of their provisional government might give him the status of de-facto leader of the otherwise decapitated administration. However, convincing the remaining factions of his legitimacy may take some doing.” She turned to look at her captain, “And it’s worth noting, sir, that if we’re headed back to Velkohn, we’re going to need additional personnel and resources.”
Sandhurst nodded in agreement. “True enough.” He glanced pointedly at Aubrey, “What are your plans for the Intrepid, Captain? If we’re splitting up and Gibraltar returns to the planet, I won’t send recovery teams to the surface without a sufficient security presence. Any medical and security personnel you can spare would be enormously helpful.”
In response, Aubrey let his gaze drift between Adol and Dr. Kella Lisern, Intrepid’s CMO. “Mr. Adol, Doctor: please determine who we can spare from your departments while still maintaining combat efficiency.” He indicated Shantok. “Commander, once you have their recommendations, you’ll coordinate with Gibraltar on personnel transfers. Mr. Benjamin…”
But Intrepid’s chief engineer wasn’t present.
At least, not mentally.
He was fidgeting with his PADD, casting nervous glances at the Gibraltar officer across the table from him. The person of interest was a young freckled woman who had a somewhat girl-like demeanor about her. Lt. Juneau, if Aubrey recalled her name correctly. For her part, she was doing a bad job of pretending that Benjamin didn’t exist. Her eyes were fixed rigidly towards the head of the table, as though she were memorizing every word the senior officers were saying.
His tone hardened. “Mr. Benjamin.” He repeated.
Benjamin snapped around with the embarrassment of a cadet who had dozed off during an academy lecture. ”Sir?” He cleared his throat. “Yes sir?”
“I’d like you to oversee the transfer of our relief supplies to Gibraltar.” Aubrey’s stare lingered; relaying unhappiness at Benjamin’s woolgathering-----particularly in front of visitors. Then he gave Sandhurst a respectful nod. “At your discretion of course.”
Sandhurst returned the gesture in kind, “We’re available at your convenience, Captain.”
“In regards to our plans; over twenty-five hundred Starfleet officers have died. We’re going to find out who’s responsible and why they did it. I think a good place to start our investigation is the last place Sharm was sighted. Therefore, we’ll be proceeding towards the Bog.”
He paused, and for the first time since the meeting began, Jason Aubrey’s expression darkened ominously. “I want to be candid with all of you. This new weapon is a direct threat to the Federation. It’s likely that I’ll be taxing Starfleet regulations to the breaking point before this is over.”
Sandhurst, Ramirez, and Lar’ragos appeared to share a wan smile as Pell looked decidedly uncomfortable. Donald noted, “That’s alright, Captain. We’ve developed a certain… flexibility where regulations are concerned. Tax away.” Casting a glance down the table at Juneau, Sandhurst added, “Seeing as we’re going to have a compliment of your personnel aboard our ship, I’d propose assigning one of my officers to Intrepid as a liaison,” he looked to Aubrey, “with your permission of course.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Aubrey agreed. “We’ll take aboard anyone you recommend.”
Juneau paled, realizing that she had just been nominated.
Ramirez confirmed it with a nod of her head as she examined the junior lieutenant from down the table, “Excellent plan, sir. I’ve the perfect person in mind.”
Benjamin caught on as well. He faced her squarely across the table for the first time since she had come aboard. She finally acknowledged him, but her expression was little more than a blank mask.
Moments later, the meeting was adjourned with the agreement that personnel and supplies would be exchanged between the vessels over the next two hours.
As they stepped out into the corridor, Ramirez gave Pell an amused look. “Our first time at the rodeo? Do they have rodeos on Bajor?”
Pell’s cheeks colored and she chuckled self-consciously, “Not as such, sir. However, I’m not beyond dipping into my cache of human idioms when the situation warrants.” The two women moved off, laughing, and headed for the transporter room.
Juneau stood in the passageway awaiting Benjamin, trying hard not to squirm. She glanced up as he approached, the young engineer clearly feeling as awkward as she did. “Cal,” Juneau said softly.
“Livvy,” he replied in an equally subdued tone. “It’s been awhile.”
“Since the inquest,” she clarified unnecessarily.
“Yeah…” Benjamin rubbed the back of his neck, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else in the universe. “So, you’re going to be our liaison?”
“Looks like,” Juneau said noncommittally.
Benjamin seemed to come to a decision, forcing himself to stare directly into the junior lieutenant’s face. “We’re obviously going to have to work together, Livvy. It’s not going to be comfortable for either of us.”
She scowled, “I’ll manage. Thanks for your concern, though.”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. “Oh, is that it? After three years suddenly it’s all my fault? If memory serves, the board of inquiry found us both equally culpable, Lieutenant.”
Juneau’s face darkened with anger, and her voice lowered an octave, “At least you’ve been able to move past it, Cal. You’re a chief engineer, one of the youngest in the Fleet. Me? I get bounced from assignment to assignment, someone who gets pawned off on one unsuspecting captain after another. If it weren’t for all the people killed in the war, I’d never have made JG!”
Benjamin recoiled from Juneau’s sudden outburst, taking a step back. “I… I’m…”
She moved forward, closing the distance, “Did I mention I’m one unsatisfactory fitness report away from being cashiered out of Starfleet completely? Ramirez has my number, Cal, and the really damning thing is I honestly can’t blame her!”
His mouth moved, but no words issued forth.
Sneering, Juneau turned her back and started off down the corridor. “Good comeback, Cal. You should save that one for the next time the two of us are in front of a review board, they love that kind of articulate defense.”
Standing alone in the hallway, Benjamin was left to ponder what exactly had just happened.
*****
Lar’ragos strode into Intrepid’s security office, giving a friendly nod to the duty officer behind the monitor station. “Afternoon, Ensign. Is Commander Adol about?” After a brief wait, Lar’ragos found himself ushered into Adol’s office, where the Andorian was busy shifting duty assignments in order to free up some of his personnel for transfer over to Gibraltar. The El Aurian brought himself to attention, announcing, “Lieutenant Lar’ragos, reporting as ordered, sir.”
Adol glanced up from his monitor, acknowledging the man’s presence with a bob of his head as his antennae cut thoughtful arcs through the air, “At ease, Lieutenant.” He gestured to a chair in front of the desk, “Please have a seat.” Lar’ragos obliged.
Adol inspected him over the top of his monitor for a moment before reaching out and pushing the data terminal aside. “I have to admit to a bit of idol worship where you’re concerned, Mr. Lar’ragos. I’ve been reading about your exploits since I was at the academy. Fighting the Cardassians at Tevrin IV during the border wars, the last man off Tzenketh when they attacked our embassy, serving with the Special Missions Teams behind Dominion lines… you’ve accumulated quite the record.”
Appearing immune to the accolades, Lar’ragos said simply, “It’s been my privilege to serve Starfleet in times of crisis.”
Adol shifted in his chair, part of him reluctant to begin the next line of questioning. “Do you mind if I inquire into what may be a personal matter, Lieutenant?”
“Not at all, sir.”
“Why did you pass on the Enterprise? It’s the most prestigious assignment in the Fleet.” Adol tried to make the query sound more like personal curiosity and less like an interrogation, but couldn’t quite pull it off.
Smiling wistfully, Lar’ragos replied, “An old friend of mine earned a captain’s commission at the end of the war and needed good officers. I felt that my experience and abilities would be of benefit to him.”
“And the reason you’ve remained a lieutenant for seventeen years?”
The El Aurian shrugged lightly, “I’m comfortable where I’m at, Commander. Besides, I’ve the rest of my career to promote, should I change my mind.”
“It must be nice,” Adol observed dryly, “to be effectively immortal.”
Lar’ragos chuckled, “I’m not phaser-proof, sir. I’m as vulnerable as anyone else when it comes to doing this job, and I’ve the scars to prove it.” His friendly smile evaporated as he deduced where Adol was going with this line of questioning. “My people aren’t ciphers to me, Commander. While it’s true that Gibraltar’s security division has taken more than its share of casualties this past year, those were due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control.” He leaned forward slightly, his expression deadly serious, “I won’t needlessly endanger your people. I’ll ask no more of them than I do of myself.”
Forcing himself to relax, Adol nodded wordlessly, absorbing the El Aurian’s statement and weighing it against what he knew of the man’s service record. “It’s difficult for me to trust someone else with the lives of the people under my command.” Adol tried to smile, but was only able to manage a morose looking smirk, “Even a living legend.”
Meeting the Andorian’s piercing gaze, Lar’ragos assessed, “I’m actually glad you’re concerned. If you accepted signing over your people without hesitation, I’d be worried.”
“Now,” Adol said, shifting topics, “what kind of equipment do you need? I’ve got Class-3 combat armor, isomagnetic disintegrators, photon mortars, and we’ve even got a couple of six-person hover sleds in storage.”
Lar’ragos looked impressed, “That’s quite the arsenal, Commander. Expecting a war?”
Smirking, Adol explained, “We’ve spent the balance of the last year on our own in the Gamma Quadrant. It pays to be prepared.”
Nodding approvingly, Lar’ragos said, “Since you’re offering, I’ll take a couple of the mortars and both the hover-sleds. I’ve got a dozen sets of Class-4 holomesh armor and five Special Warfare Interceptor/Fast Transports that can escort the sleds.”
Adol blinked, “SWIFTS? How’d you get your hands on Class-4 commando armor and special forces hovercycles?”
Grinning, Lar’ragos answered, “It’s all in who you know, sir.”
*****
Velkohn
The sounds of battle had grown louder in just the past half hour, the percussion of heavy artillery causing the building to tremor in sympathy with those unfortunate souls on the receiving end of the barrage. The city’s business district was being torn apart by armed factions trying to wrest control of the planet’s monetary and communications infrastructure, promising to leave this district’s once proud architecture a graveyard of burned-out, skeletal shells, as had been the fate of the governance district the previous day.
The three Velk sat around a circular table, their only source of illumination a weak hand-held lantern covered by a piece of red cloth to preserve their night vision. One of them monitored the display screen of a portable subspace transceiver, his eyes fixed to the ever changing data stream. “The localized interference is subsiding,” he noted with relief, “finally.”
“Too late,” answered another, a communications earpiece affixed to his auditory orifice. “Our forces have broken and are retreating towards the athletic complex near the river junction.”
“Where are they running to?” the third one asked bitterly. “The transport skiffs have already left. They’ll either be surrounded and slaughtered or pushed into the river and drowned.”
The one with the comms earpiece merely flexed his facial spines, the Velk variant of a head shake. “They’re panicking, there isn’t any order or plan to this retreat. It’s a rout.” His features registering disgust, he dislodged the earpiece and tucked it into a pocket. “They’re finished. We’re finished.”
“Perhaps not,” the first one offered, his voice tinged with the merest hint of hope. “I’ve just accessed a surveillance satellite, the Federation starship isn’t in orbit.”
“So? That, in and of itself means nothing.”
“It may suggest that our transmission was detected, and that they’ve gone to investigate Sharm’s sighting.”
“Sharm,” the second one spat, “That duplicitous little worm. I wonder how the Cartel got him away from the Federation squadron before they were annihilated?”
“How doesn’t matter,” the third one announced. “The Federation’s involvement was our last, best hope for stability. With Sharm’s help, the Cartel has us at each other’s throats. They needn’t lift a finger while our world tears itself apart. They’ll simply swoop in after the dust settles and establish control, no doubt with Sharm installed as a Prefect.”
The first one appeared skeptical, “Won’t the Federation intervene? Thousands of their military personnel have just been murdered.”
“No, their laws prohibit them from becoming involved in the internal affairs of other cultures.”
Adjusting the signal gain on the transceiver, the first Velk maintained his stance. “The Federation won’t simply walk away from this. The Cartel’s new weapon will be mistaken as a resumption of hostilities with the Dominion. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few days from now our skies are darkened by dozens of Starfleet ships.”
“I think that very unlikely,” said a disembodied voice from somewhere in the room.
The three Velk at the table froze, their facial spines quivering in alarm. The second one reached for the pistol at his hip, only to be sent flying from his chair as a Jem’Hadar soldier de-shrouded and bludgeoned him across the temple with his rifle.
The third Velk, moving with practiced swiftness, drew a knife from his chest harness and slashed at the Jem’Hadar’s Ketracil-white tubule. Shockingly, his blade glanced off nothing more than armored breastplate, no narcotic delivery system to be found. The soldier replied by swinging his rifle around and sending a stun discharge into the Velk’s midsection, leaving the smaller reptilian insensate on the floor.
The last of the Velk merely sat where he was, seeing no sense in offering further resistance.
“Not going to run? Not going to fight?” The voice echoed in the confined room.
The Velk sighed, moving to deactivate the subspace transceiver, “There would be no point.”
The voice’s owner began to laugh, a high-pitched, trilling giggle that would have set the Velk’s hair on end, had he possessed any. “I credit you with knowing when to bow to the inevitable. The Federation, however, doesn’t seem to have learned that lesson. If their ships dare return, I shall enjoy educating them about the fundamental truths of this quadrant. Slowly… ever so slowly…”
*****
)
Seriously, though, he didn’t want to wait for the blood screenings, for fear of being ambushed if the test proved positive, or worse, being tricked if potential Changelings had found a way to circumvent the test.
