UT:TFV – Part III – Infinities Unbound (Chapter 6 cont'd)
Chapter Six
<cont'd>
Amon Homeship Transcendent
In orbit of Planet Alanthal
Delta Quadrant
Zeischt’s introductions had begged explanation, so for the next ten minutes, the former Starfleet captain described A’lasha’s exotic origins. His tale, confusing and improbable as it was, was obviously designed to absolve Verrik of any complicity in their mutual escape from
Europa.
As he observed Zeischt’s recitation, Lar’ragos trained his specially attuned senses on his AWOL friend. He discovered, as before, that when Sandhurst was in the grip of the Amon life-essence, the man was immune to Pava’s El Aurian insights. There were no images to be culled from Donald’s subconscious, no epiphanies to be had from dissecting what he said or how he said it. Sandhurst had become a cipher, a phantom.
When Zeischt had finished his remarkable tale, he looked to Lar’ragos and then cast a questioning glance at those among the party he did not know.
Thus urged, Lar’ragos introduced the others and highlighted the presence of Dominic Leone as Verrik’s replacement, as well as Dr. Reskos.
Zeischt frowned, the first demonstration of genuine emotion Lar’ragos had seen register on his old friend’s features. The Amon glanced down the table at Reskos, who was blatantly scanning A’lasha with his tricorder, oblivious to the others’ attention. “I’d hoped Lieutenant Taiee could have remained the CMO,” Zeischt spoke with a hint of sadness.
Lar’ragos shared an awkward glance with Pell before turning to face Sandhurst. “Donald…” he began.
“Zeischt,” the former captain corrected. “That is my name now, Pava.”
“Zeischt, then,” Lar’ragos continued. “I’m sorry to inform you that both Issara Taiee and Olivia Juneau are dead, both killed in the line of duty.”
Zeischt’s features grew taut, conveying both shock and anguish.
“What? When—how?”
The El Aurian allowed the slightest of sighs to escape his lips. “We’ve talked before about how the Baron was plotting something…”
Zeischt’s face colored and he rose from his seat, bracing his arms atop the table with his hands clenched into tight fists. The mention of his nemesis, the being who had tortured him beyond endurance, breaking him spiritually and emotionally, had ignited something deep within whatever remained of Donald Sandhurst.
Lar’ragos continued. “His plan came to fruition while he was captive aboard
Europa, after your departure. He died and nearly took the entire ship with him when he expired. However, it appears that before his death he managed to exact vengeance upon you… upon us all, really.”
“He’s dead then?” Zeischt asked pointedly. “Why do you speak of his revenge as though it’s still taking place?”
Heedless of the question, Lar'ragos continued, “He somehow abducted Liana Ramirez prior to her death. He’s twisted her into a monster, a murderous sociopath who now commands a rogue
Defiant-class ship. Ramirez attacked and crippled
Europa, killing Juneau and several others in the process. She allowed the rest of us to live to serve as warning to you. Ramirez intends to find you and kill you face-to-face.”
Zeischt sat heavily, as though his legs had given out. The female Amon looked at him with a mixture of concern and sadness, an expression that turned many degrees colder when it shifted to Lar’ragos.
“Gods,” Zeischt breathed, “if there was one person who could wound us from beyond the grave, it would be him.” He raised his gaze to meet Pava’s eyes. “Ramirez, where is she now?”
“Unknown,” Lar’ragos replied. “Since our last encounter there haven’t been any reported sightings of her ship. We believe hers was the Starfleet vessel that was making hit-and-run attacks on incoming alien fleets. She likely sparked the confrontation with the Voranti that cost us so dearly.”
“If that’s the case,” Pell noted, “she’s responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands.”
Zeischt bowed his head, emitting a soft moan as he reached out to grasp Nestrala’s hand, a gesture that was not lost on Pell. “I should have seen this,” he practically gasped. “Why didn’t I see this?” Zeischt looked up at Nestrala, his eyes now shimmering with tears. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Nestrala had observed enough. Prompted by her lover’s distress, she stood. “This gathering is concluded. Zeischt must rest.”
Lar’ragos stood as well, prompting Leone to rise to his feet. "This is a delicate situation, Nestrala,” Lar’ragos said, holding up a hand to delay the Amon party’s departure. “You are surrounded by a Klingon battle fleet, a fleet whose actions I can only influence, not control. The longer our negotiations drag on, the greater the chance of the Klingons overreacting to something and escalating the situation.”
Nestrala’s expression was one of iron will. “That would be unfortunate… for them.” She turned and gestured to two of her party’s escorts, who moved to spirit Zeischt quickly away, the man still visibly overcome with grief and shock.
“They should not be underestimated, BattleLeader,” Lar’ragos urged. “We are aware of your recent losses to your fellow tribe. Surely you can’t wish to provoke further unnecessary conflict with the Klingons?”
The Amon warrior countered, “We’ve no quarrel with the Klingons, Captain, but should they wish to engage in battle with us, we will accommodate them.” Nestrala appeared about to turn away, but then seemed to think better of it and directed her heated gaze back on Lar’ragos. “You came here deliberately to undermine Zeischt’s fealty to the Amon.”
Counselor Liu stood and called out before Lar’ragos had a chance to reply, “That isn’t true. All we’ve done is inform him of what’s happened in his absence.”
Nestrala pointed to Pell. “The data chip you’re carrying, what does it contain?”
Pell looked surprised, moving her hand to a pocket of her uniform trousers to produce an isolinear chip. “It is no threat to you. It holds only messages from Donald’s parents and his sister.”
“Your intentions are all too transparent,” Nestrala seethed. Armored Amon warriors stepped from the dense tropical foliage surrounding the conference table, emerging like soundless wraiths with their battle-staffs gripped tightly. “Seize them and place them in the diplomatic complex under guard.”
Leone tensed, but he was held in check by a firm hand from Lar’ragos. He turned to see the captain shake his head fractionally, the El Aurian’s expression an unreadable mask. “No resistance,” Lar’ragos announced.
Addressing the female Amon, Lar'ragos said, “You’re making a mistake, Nestrala. We’re here to help bring your cousins under control, and we have no designs on testing Zeischt’s loyalties. However, we cannot and will not be prevented from acknowledging our ties to someone so dear to us.”
Nestrala held his gaze for a brief moment before turning her back on him, her decorative robes dancing with the speed of her departure.
* * *
USS Europa
Shanthi entered Sickbay’s cryo-stasis ward, joining Wu who was standing in front of an otherwise unremarkable stasis unit. Two security specialists stood by, armed with phaser rifles.
“The bridge says no further contact with our team and comms are still being jammed,” Shanthi updated the XO. “High powered shields snapped up around our mooring clamps, so we’re not going anywhere without a fight. No activity at the airlock, however, sir.”
“So, not an outright attack,” Wu muttered, manually inputting the last of a long string of digits into the stasis chamber’s interface. “I suppose that’s something.”
Shanthi looked on, obviously confused about their presence in Sickbay during a red alert. He was experienced enough, however, to keep his reservations to himself.
Sensing the science officer’s puzzlement, Wu explained, “Before he left for the Amon ship, the captain told me in case things went sour during the negotiations that the contents of this stasis unit should be the first Alpha Weapon I activated.”
The lanky African’s eyes widened in response. “Uh… what the hell is an Alpha Weapon doing in a stasis tank, sir? I thought they were all locked away in the torpedo magazines?”
“No idea, Lieutenant, but I wanted you here to help me assess whatever the device is.”
Shanthi studied the stasis unit’s status display suspiciously. “What kind of super-weapon needs to be kept in cryonic suspension?”
Wu met his gaze with a dark cast to her almond-shaped eyes. “My guess? A biological one.”
It almost seemed as if something died in Shanthi’s own eyes, as though the last faint glimmer of innocence was suddenly extinguished. He sighed heavily. “Right. Because we’re doing
that, now.”
Wu grunted in response as the unit hissed open, white vapor escaping as the long cabinet-like container slid out of its housing.
As the cryonic vapors dissipated, a shape became visible, that of a humanoid male dressed in some manner of dark attire. Given that persons coming out of cryogenic suspension took many minutes if not hours to come around, Wu and Shanthi were both startled when the figure sat bolt upright after just a few seconds.
He appeared vaguely human, but was completely hairless and possessed a sallow complexion and deeply set dark eyes. His clothing was reminiscent of a mid-22nd century business suit, made from a black form-fitting material that gave him a strangely formal appearance.
The man swung his long legs over the side of the shelf and stood abruptly. Wu moved to support him, expecting his legs to give out so soon after emerging from cryonic-fugue, but the man remained on his feet without any sign of discomfort or weakness.
“Good day,” he spoke in a deep, resonant voice. “Please indicate the target parameters and rules of engagement.”
Wu shot Shanthi an expression equal parts wonder and skepticism. The young scientist offered only a similarly quizzical look and a subtle shrug in response. The XO turned back to the man, only to discover to her dismay that she was now facing an entirely different person.
The tall, gaunt man Wu had been addressing was now a significantly shorter, darker-skinned male with neatly trimmed brown hair. Where his eyes should have been were empty, lidless sockets. He was clad in an anachronistic suit that appeared to hail from Earth’s 19th century, if not earlier.
Wu frowned and only barely restrained herself from drawing the phaser holstered at her hip. “Who or what are you?” she demanded.
“You may address us as Mister Oddfellow,” the smaller man replied. “It has grown to become our designation over time, one we’ve come to appreciate in an ironic sense,” said the larger man, who had not so much replaced his smaller counterpart as rather having somehow been there all along.
“We?” Wu asked, struggling to control the timber of her voice. Behind her the two security specialists had raised their phaser rifles to a low ready as both of them fought to comprehend the conflicting messages their eyes were sending to their brains.
“How many people do you see?” asked the shorter man, his face radiating a pleasant, relaxed smile.
“Two,” Wu blurted. “I mean… one?” She blinked, trying to clear her head. “I’m—I’m not sure.”
“Precisely,” the taller man answered. “You may verify our security credentials, authorization code ‘Enigma five-zero-eight-nine-three-echo-echo.’”
Shanthi plugged away furiously at his tricorder before offering Wu a helpless shrug. “The security code checks out, sir, but as for scans… aside from reading the displacement of air in this compartment, there’s no readings from him…
them, whatsoever.”
The sallow, towering Oddfellow looked down at Wu. “If we’ve been activated, we must assume the situation is serious and time is of the essence.” The shorter man, inhabiting the same space as his counterpart, lifted his sightless gaze and squinted at Wu. “Is that accurate?”
“Yes,” she answered numbly.
“Then please explain your predicament as quickly as possible,” they said in unison, though Wu could swear only one voice had spoken the words.
* * *
After all, his policy is based on his own personal principles which are alien to the Amon.
Can't wait to see your next installment(s). 
