In celebration of United Trek’s Tenth Anniversary, and to satiate all those who’ve been after a new fix of Star Trek: Orion, I give you “Reunions”.
This will be somewhat different, as the last time we saw these plucky characters was in 2375 after the loss of the Constellation-Class U.S.S. Orion. This story jumps forward ten years to late-2385 and looks at where the crew is and what they’ve been getting up to over the last decade.
I hope you enjoy.
* * * * *
Chapter One
Captain’s log, stardate: 62757.3.
Our charting and survey mission sectors 87099 and 87100 is now complete and has given us a substantial amount of data to analyse. From what my science section tell me, it is ripe with planets of considerable scientific interest—though they seem to say that about everything. I will admit though, the rare times my First Officer allowed me to lead away missions, it was nice to feel real sunlight on my skin again, so I wouldn’t have any problems going back to a few of those worlds for more in-depth study and analysis.
The crew has performed admirably, not that I’ve come to expect any less from them, though after a month of such intense and rapid work, they’re all looking forward to some R&R once we put into dock. On the crew front, I am happy to add that Lieutenant Texil’Vehn gave birth to his newest litter in the early hours, adding eight to out crew count and bringing his offspring up to twelve—fortunately, larger quarters have been adapted for the Lieutenant’s ever growing family, so I won’t lose such a valued member of my crew just yet.
On a personal note, I am looking forward to our arrival at DS10; it’s been too long since I caught up with her Captain—among others onboard the station.
End log.
* * * * *
Captain’s Ready Room, U.S.S. Pathfinder
Dozaria Sector
The bubbles of the Bolian tonic water popped on his tongue as he took a sip, while the twist of zhess (a citrus-like fruit native to Andoria) added a refreshing sharpness to the chilled liquid. Captain Reihyn smiled to himself as he enjoyed his morning beverage of choice, which, due to the pigmentation of the inhabitants of both planets, had become known as a “blue cocktail” to those onboard who’d served with him for a while—despite being crystal clear. He set the glass down and returned his attention to the report that had been submitted from the planetary science division. With every research mission he’d led, both on the Pathfinder and the Orion before her over the last ten years, it began with a comment about insufficient access to the primary senor array—even though they’d had more time allocated than most of the other science divisions, since planetary surveying had been a key part of their latest mission—before going into the full details of what they’d discovered and what it could mean for the region.
Reihyn had to admit that geology had never been that interesting to him, barely managing to get through the mandatory classes in the subject as a freshman at the Academy, but even he could see what had gotten so many of the planetary science experts onboard excited—seven different worlds with an abundance of natural resources, untouched and unclaimed by anyone. Had the Dominion discovered even one of them then the war would most likely still be waging today, fortunately for the Quadrant they hadn’t, nor had anyone else it seemed, and being in neutral space beyond what was once the Cardassian Union, then the Federation could easily claim mining rights. Something told him that there were a few onboard who would petition to have that mission assigned to the Pathfinder, only so they could play about in the dirt for a little longer.
Well no one said commanding a task force flagship would be glamorous, Reihyn quipped to himself. It was a billet he’d been offered two years ago, one that had torn him as it had meant leaving the U.S.S. Orion—not something he’d ever envisioned himself doing. But there weren’t many forty year olds who were given such an opportunity and the Nebula-Class ship offered a lot of potential—some even commented that a few years commanding her and he’d be in with a chance of a promotion to the admiralty, a prospect that held no interest for him.
The sounding of the enunciator snapped him from his thoughts. He looked up at the door directly opposite his desk and called, “It’s open.”
The parting doors revealed his First Officer, Commander Natalie Jurex, who strolled into his office. The half-Betazoid was ten years his junior, though looked as fresh-faced and youthful as when he’d first met her after the fateful mission onboard the U.S.S. DeVier, where she had been just one of three survivors and he’d had lost two good crewmembers himself. When he had assumed command of the Orion-II, after the loss of her predecessor, Jurex had been assigned as his new Operations Manager and, for a time, he found it difficult with her onboard due to the memory of what he’d been forced to do that day. But with time, and the patient ear of a good counsellor, he’d managed to work through his discomfort and come to appreciate the young woman for the bright and ambitious person she was.
She came to stand before his desk and produced a PADD from behind her back. “We’ve just receive the latest intelligence report from DS10, sir.”
He took the tablet and motioned to one of the chair opposite. Jurex sat as he glanced at the display. “Anything jump out at you, Nat?”
“There have been a few more ‘incidents’ the Crimson Shadow are either taking credit for or are believed to be behind: a riot and a few instances of civil disobedience, a bombing at an industrial replicator plant, contaminated botanical samples heading to an agricultural colony, all quite low-key if you ask me. Either their running out of steam or support, or else they’re trying to remain in the public eye whilst plotting something bigger.
“All is quiet from within the Keldon Empire, those energy spikes of recent months seemed to have dropped off. There looks to be some important meeting between a Federation Councillor and a representative of the Cardassian Alliance in the next few days on DS10, though Intel is being tight-lipped on the specifics—no surprise there. Whilst the Detapa Republic have stepped up their patrols along their border with the League of Sovereign Colonies, looks like the two have been having a few stand-offs over the last couple of weeks.”
“May you live in interesting times,” he muttered to himself as he listened to his XO and read over the initial report.
“We certainly do, Captain,” she said with a smirk.
That could well be the understatement of the decade. Since the end of the war, the former Cardassian Union was a hotbed of political upheaval and fallout, with power struggles, assassinations, corruption, and mismanagement happening on almost a daily basis. It wasn’t until late in 2379 when things seemed to stabilise, though even that didn’t last, as within two years the tentative progress they had made fell apart completely, which had led to a unified Cardassia being torn into three new entities: the Detapa Republic, the Cardassian Alliance, and the Keldon Empire. Over the last four years, the three new nations had made more progress individually than they had ever done so collectively, though they were far from being completely stable. The Federation had offered the hand of friendship and support, to which the Alliance clung on for dear life, the Republic accepted when it was of benefit to them, and the Empire batted away, which pretty much summed up what was to be expected from the three.
“What about the ship? Everything running smoothly, I take it.”
“Yes sir, latest system status reports have been logged for your review. We remain steady on course at warp six-point-five. ETA at DS10 is in six days, four hours and change. Sickbay also reports that the Lieutenant and his offspring are doing fine, if a little noisy.”
Reihyn chuckled to himself. “I can imagine it would. I’ll have to get down there and extend my congratulations in person. I’m sure Lieutenant Ngo can get by with one man short for the next few months.”
“Of that I have no doubt, sir.” She paused for a moment, seeming a little apprehensive, which always happened when she tried to switch from work to matters of a more personal nature—though she had done a stellar job of taking on the mantle as his new First Officer two years ago, she still had trouble speaking to him as a person rather than a superior.
After a moment she shrugged to herself and dove in. “You must be looking forward to getting back to the station. Love over light-years is never easy.”
No that is the understatement of the decade, he quipped to himself, grinning at the thought as he pictured his fiancés beautiful face. “Nothing worthwhile in life comes easy, Natalie, you’ve always got to work at it.”
“I’ll remember—”
She was cut off by the intercom filling the ready room. “Bridge to Reihyn,” came Lieutenant Commander Moq’s deep voice.
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, we’ve just picked up a faint distress call. It looks to be Krayan in origin.”
Reihyn’s eyes locked with his First Officer’s. Like Bajor, Kray had been a world that had been conquered decades ago by the Cardassian Union; strip mined for everything of value, the people had been a race of slaves, whose attempts to resist had been quashed time and time again. When the war ended, their world was liberated and given all the aid the Federation could manage, to the point they were finally starting to stand on their own four feet. Over the eight years he’d commanded the Orion, they’d made dozens of trips to the small backwater planet, given whatever aid and instruction they could, even ferried their First Speaker on a goodwill tour of other worlds in the same situation as themselves, to try and establish some solidarity between the victims of Cardassian oppression.
“We’re on our way,” he said, rising from his chair and heading for the exit, Jurex behind him.
Stepping onto the bridge, Reihyn headed straight for ops whilst Jurex stepped up to the upper level where Moq stood at tactical. Before he even opened his mouth the ops manager, the highly-efficient Lieutenant Ngo Tan Due, began.
“I have confirmed that the signal is Krayan in origin, attempting to lock down its exact origin but it looks to be coming from two-one-seven-mark-zero-four-five. Audio only but it’s heavily garbled, I’m trying to clear it up now.”
“Could you make out anything?”
“Just snippets of words, sir, not enough to discern anything of use,” Ngo said, finally looking up at him.
“As quick as you can, Lieutenant,” he instructed then turned to Lieutenant Essi Taua, the Lothran conn officer. “Drop us out of warp and hold position. Input the approximate heading into the navcomp, standby to correct and engage at maximum warp.”
“Confirmed Captain,” she stated with a nod of her envirosuit-clad head, being a hydrogen breather the standard M-Class atmosphere of the ship was toxic to her.
Reihyn turned to the back of the bridge, looking at Jurex and Moq, two officers he’d served with for at least ten years and proven themselves to be exemplary countless times in that period, he was lucky to have such steady presences onboard.
“No ships or warp trails in the immediate area, sir,” assured the Tellarite security chief.
“Intel had no reports of unusual activity out here either,” the Commander added.
He nodded at both of them, just as Ngo’s station chirped. “I’ve gotten the transmission cleared up, sir, putting on speakers.”
“...is Kray...sport Ol’dana Khes. Ther...ee...xplosi...our engine...lost main...ulsion and env...tems also...off...hear us, we nee...assist...”
“Can you clean it up anymore, Due?”
The Vietnamese officer shook his head as he continued to work. “Negative, sir. That’s as good as I can get it.”
“It sounded like an explosion onboard has crippled key systems.”
“I would have to concur, Commander. See if our records have anything on the Ol’dana Khes.”
“Aye sir.”
“Captain, I have confirmed their heading, co-ordinates routed to the conn. It looks like they’re in a small planetary system, two light-years away.”
“Conn,” he said, glancing at Taua.
“On our way, Captain,” she replied tapping the warp activation button.
“Mr Moq, see if you can raise them, let them know help is on the way.”
“Aye sir.”
* * * * *
Accommodation Section, Deep Space 10
Yaren System, Lazon Sector
Jil Sarat, diplomatic attaché to Envoy Marvek of the Cardassian Alliance, stood in quiet the turbolift well aware of the four pairs of eyes that watched her intently. Even though she had only been sixteen when the war ended, she knew that there were many in the quadrant who didn’t like Cardassians, nor would they ever, so she had come to expect suspicion whenever she was off planet. Her way of dealing with it was to keep as low a profile as possible, avoid eye contact and try to keep out of the way of others—after all she wasn’t the one with a security escort.
The lift slowed and she glanced at the display. It was her stop. The doors parted and she quickly slipped out, a Bolian mother pulled her young son closer to her as Sarat passed them. The corridor was empty so when the turbolfit doors closed, she was able to take a breath. She had hoped that over the last ten years things may have changed, but hate and fear weren’t so easy to recover from. It was the reason she had joined the diplomatic corps, hoping to try and ease some of the animosity, to build bridges and work on establishing better relations. Three years in, after gaining distinctions in political science and sociology, she was still little more than a secretary, running errands and taking minutes—not exactly the kind of thing that changed the galaxy.
With a sigh she headed towards the VIP section. Marvek was late for a conference call and hadn’t been responding to his comlink, nor was his bodyguard, Glinn Toren. It wasn’t the first time she’d been unable to get in touch with them; they were typically thick as thieves due to their family connections, Marvek having been good friends with the soldiers’ father, and both of them having an over-fondness for kanar. As such she didn’t want to involve station security and have the makings of a scandal on her hands, though the Envoy had assured her they wouldn’t celebrate until after the meeting with Councillor T’Vell—though this wouldn’t be the first time he’d made her such assurances either.
Maybe I could ask for a transfer, she mused as she walked through the well-lit corridors, which were an inoffensive shade of beige, as were most of the civilian or crew areas, whilst operational sections were typically grey—not that she’d gotten to see many of those areas of the station. She shook her head and cleared the thought, as menial as the work was, she was present when the Cardassian Alliance was making history, though as a witness rather than someone who could shape it, but still it was a beginning. A few years with Marvek and she’d be on course for doing great things herself, after all the man had to retire sometime soon.
Sarat rounded the last corner and saw that Toren wasn’t standing by the door, which meant the Envoy was either elsewhere in the station or, more likely, they were inside with an open bottle. She got a sinking feeling as she neared the door, wondering what excuse she could use this time for his tardiness—the Representatives back home had heard most of the plausible ones so far, which meant she’d need to get creative, even though they would all know the truth anyway.
She tapped the enunciator and waited. There wasn’t a sound from inside. She tried it again but was met with the same response. Gods, when did they start this morning? Did they even go to bed last night? The Federation Councillor would be here tomorrow morning, with talks due to start immediately. The Cardassian Alliance needed to strengthen its bonds with the UFP if they were to keep going, with a weak economy base and a limited infrastructure they needed a more robust treaty with the Federation. It would benefit both sides, as a more stable Alliance would help maintain the peace in the former Union’s space, which would give the UFP a stronger partner in regional affairs, as well as opening multiple bases and planets up for Starfleet to have full access to.
She tried one last time, then tapped in Marvek’s door code—she always made sure to memorise it, for times like this. The doors parted and she stepped into the lounge area, expecting to see them there, sitting, slouched or passed out, talking, singing or snoring, but it was empty. Everything was just as it had been the previous evening when she’d left.
Her brow creased as she looked around. There was a full bottle of kanar on a tray on top of the low table in the middle of the seating area, just as it had been last night, the four glasses right where she’d last seen them. On the desk, the terminal was off and the stack of datapads hadn’t been touched—particulars of the meeting with Councillor T’Vell that Marvek was ‘going to peruse’ when she’d left for her own bed. The sinking feeling she’d had outside deepened, her stomach tightening.
“Envoy?” she called out. “Envoy Marvek? Glinn Toren?”
The silence made her heart pound.
Slowly, she headed for the bedroom, the door to which was closed. As she got closer she noticed a change in the air, she could taste a metallic tang. The doors remained shut when she reached them. Hand shaking she tapped the panel.
As the whispered open, the smell intensified, like a smack to the face causing her to step back.
Don’t go in there! Call security! her mind screamed at her, but she stepped forward, into the bedroom.
Jil Sarat’s scream could be clearly heard in the corridor outside Envoy Marvek’s sepulchre.
* * * * *
This will be somewhat different, as the last time we saw these plucky characters was in 2375 after the loss of the Constellation-Class U.S.S. Orion. This story jumps forward ten years to late-2385 and looks at where the crew is and what they’ve been getting up to over the last decade.
I hope you enjoy.
* * * * *
Chapter One
Captain’s log, stardate: 62757.3.
Our charting and survey mission sectors 87099 and 87100 is now complete and has given us a substantial amount of data to analyse. From what my science section tell me, it is ripe with planets of considerable scientific interest—though they seem to say that about everything. I will admit though, the rare times my First Officer allowed me to lead away missions, it was nice to feel real sunlight on my skin again, so I wouldn’t have any problems going back to a few of those worlds for more in-depth study and analysis.
The crew has performed admirably, not that I’ve come to expect any less from them, though after a month of such intense and rapid work, they’re all looking forward to some R&R once we put into dock. On the crew front, I am happy to add that Lieutenant Texil’Vehn gave birth to his newest litter in the early hours, adding eight to out crew count and bringing his offspring up to twelve—fortunately, larger quarters have been adapted for the Lieutenant’s ever growing family, so I won’t lose such a valued member of my crew just yet.
On a personal note, I am looking forward to our arrival at DS10; it’s been too long since I caught up with her Captain—among others onboard the station.
End log.
* * * * *
Captain’s Ready Room, U.S.S. Pathfinder
Dozaria Sector
The bubbles of the Bolian tonic water popped on his tongue as he took a sip, while the twist of zhess (a citrus-like fruit native to Andoria) added a refreshing sharpness to the chilled liquid. Captain Reihyn smiled to himself as he enjoyed his morning beverage of choice, which, due to the pigmentation of the inhabitants of both planets, had become known as a “blue cocktail” to those onboard who’d served with him for a while—despite being crystal clear. He set the glass down and returned his attention to the report that had been submitted from the planetary science division. With every research mission he’d led, both on the Pathfinder and the Orion before her over the last ten years, it began with a comment about insufficient access to the primary senor array—even though they’d had more time allocated than most of the other science divisions, since planetary surveying had been a key part of their latest mission—before going into the full details of what they’d discovered and what it could mean for the region.
Reihyn had to admit that geology had never been that interesting to him, barely managing to get through the mandatory classes in the subject as a freshman at the Academy, but even he could see what had gotten so many of the planetary science experts onboard excited—seven different worlds with an abundance of natural resources, untouched and unclaimed by anyone. Had the Dominion discovered even one of them then the war would most likely still be waging today, fortunately for the Quadrant they hadn’t, nor had anyone else it seemed, and being in neutral space beyond what was once the Cardassian Union, then the Federation could easily claim mining rights. Something told him that there were a few onboard who would petition to have that mission assigned to the Pathfinder, only so they could play about in the dirt for a little longer.
Well no one said commanding a task force flagship would be glamorous, Reihyn quipped to himself. It was a billet he’d been offered two years ago, one that had torn him as it had meant leaving the U.S.S. Orion—not something he’d ever envisioned himself doing. But there weren’t many forty year olds who were given such an opportunity and the Nebula-Class ship offered a lot of potential—some even commented that a few years commanding her and he’d be in with a chance of a promotion to the admiralty, a prospect that held no interest for him.
The sounding of the enunciator snapped him from his thoughts. He looked up at the door directly opposite his desk and called, “It’s open.”
The parting doors revealed his First Officer, Commander Natalie Jurex, who strolled into his office. The half-Betazoid was ten years his junior, though looked as fresh-faced and youthful as when he’d first met her after the fateful mission onboard the U.S.S. DeVier, where she had been just one of three survivors and he’d had lost two good crewmembers himself. When he had assumed command of the Orion-II, after the loss of her predecessor, Jurex had been assigned as his new Operations Manager and, for a time, he found it difficult with her onboard due to the memory of what he’d been forced to do that day. But with time, and the patient ear of a good counsellor, he’d managed to work through his discomfort and come to appreciate the young woman for the bright and ambitious person she was.
She came to stand before his desk and produced a PADD from behind her back. “We’ve just receive the latest intelligence report from DS10, sir.”
He took the tablet and motioned to one of the chair opposite. Jurex sat as he glanced at the display. “Anything jump out at you, Nat?”
“There have been a few more ‘incidents’ the Crimson Shadow are either taking credit for or are believed to be behind: a riot and a few instances of civil disobedience, a bombing at an industrial replicator plant, contaminated botanical samples heading to an agricultural colony, all quite low-key if you ask me. Either their running out of steam or support, or else they’re trying to remain in the public eye whilst plotting something bigger.
“All is quiet from within the Keldon Empire, those energy spikes of recent months seemed to have dropped off. There looks to be some important meeting between a Federation Councillor and a representative of the Cardassian Alliance in the next few days on DS10, though Intel is being tight-lipped on the specifics—no surprise there. Whilst the Detapa Republic have stepped up their patrols along their border with the League of Sovereign Colonies, looks like the two have been having a few stand-offs over the last couple of weeks.”
“May you live in interesting times,” he muttered to himself as he listened to his XO and read over the initial report.
“We certainly do, Captain,” she said with a smirk.
That could well be the understatement of the decade. Since the end of the war, the former Cardassian Union was a hotbed of political upheaval and fallout, with power struggles, assassinations, corruption, and mismanagement happening on almost a daily basis. It wasn’t until late in 2379 when things seemed to stabilise, though even that didn’t last, as within two years the tentative progress they had made fell apart completely, which had led to a unified Cardassia being torn into three new entities: the Detapa Republic, the Cardassian Alliance, and the Keldon Empire. Over the last four years, the three new nations had made more progress individually than they had ever done so collectively, though they were far from being completely stable. The Federation had offered the hand of friendship and support, to which the Alliance clung on for dear life, the Republic accepted when it was of benefit to them, and the Empire batted away, which pretty much summed up what was to be expected from the three.
“What about the ship? Everything running smoothly, I take it.”
“Yes sir, latest system status reports have been logged for your review. We remain steady on course at warp six-point-five. ETA at DS10 is in six days, four hours and change. Sickbay also reports that the Lieutenant and his offspring are doing fine, if a little noisy.”
Reihyn chuckled to himself. “I can imagine it would. I’ll have to get down there and extend my congratulations in person. I’m sure Lieutenant Ngo can get by with one man short for the next few months.”
“Of that I have no doubt, sir.” She paused for a moment, seeming a little apprehensive, which always happened when she tried to switch from work to matters of a more personal nature—though she had done a stellar job of taking on the mantle as his new First Officer two years ago, she still had trouble speaking to him as a person rather than a superior.
After a moment she shrugged to herself and dove in. “You must be looking forward to getting back to the station. Love over light-years is never easy.”
No that is the understatement of the decade, he quipped to himself, grinning at the thought as he pictured his fiancés beautiful face. “Nothing worthwhile in life comes easy, Natalie, you’ve always got to work at it.”
“I’ll remember—”
She was cut off by the intercom filling the ready room. “Bridge to Reihyn,” came Lieutenant Commander Moq’s deep voice.
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, we’ve just picked up a faint distress call. It looks to be Krayan in origin.”
Reihyn’s eyes locked with his First Officer’s. Like Bajor, Kray had been a world that had been conquered decades ago by the Cardassian Union; strip mined for everything of value, the people had been a race of slaves, whose attempts to resist had been quashed time and time again. When the war ended, their world was liberated and given all the aid the Federation could manage, to the point they were finally starting to stand on their own four feet. Over the eight years he’d commanded the Orion, they’d made dozens of trips to the small backwater planet, given whatever aid and instruction they could, even ferried their First Speaker on a goodwill tour of other worlds in the same situation as themselves, to try and establish some solidarity between the victims of Cardassian oppression.
“We’re on our way,” he said, rising from his chair and heading for the exit, Jurex behind him.
Stepping onto the bridge, Reihyn headed straight for ops whilst Jurex stepped up to the upper level where Moq stood at tactical. Before he even opened his mouth the ops manager, the highly-efficient Lieutenant Ngo Tan Due, began.
“I have confirmed that the signal is Krayan in origin, attempting to lock down its exact origin but it looks to be coming from two-one-seven-mark-zero-four-five. Audio only but it’s heavily garbled, I’m trying to clear it up now.”
“Could you make out anything?”
“Just snippets of words, sir, not enough to discern anything of use,” Ngo said, finally looking up at him.
“As quick as you can, Lieutenant,” he instructed then turned to Lieutenant Essi Taua, the Lothran conn officer. “Drop us out of warp and hold position. Input the approximate heading into the navcomp, standby to correct and engage at maximum warp.”
“Confirmed Captain,” she stated with a nod of her envirosuit-clad head, being a hydrogen breather the standard M-Class atmosphere of the ship was toxic to her.
Reihyn turned to the back of the bridge, looking at Jurex and Moq, two officers he’d served with for at least ten years and proven themselves to be exemplary countless times in that period, he was lucky to have such steady presences onboard.
“No ships or warp trails in the immediate area, sir,” assured the Tellarite security chief.
“Intel had no reports of unusual activity out here either,” the Commander added.
He nodded at both of them, just as Ngo’s station chirped. “I’ve gotten the transmission cleared up, sir, putting on speakers.”
“...is Kray...sport Ol’dana Khes. Ther...ee...xplosi...our engine...lost main...ulsion and env...tems also...off...hear us, we nee...assist...”
“Can you clean it up anymore, Due?”
The Vietnamese officer shook his head as he continued to work. “Negative, sir. That’s as good as I can get it.”
“It sounded like an explosion onboard has crippled key systems.”
“I would have to concur, Commander. See if our records have anything on the Ol’dana Khes.”
“Aye sir.”
“Captain, I have confirmed their heading, co-ordinates routed to the conn. It looks like they’re in a small planetary system, two light-years away.”
“Conn,” he said, glancing at Taua.
“On our way, Captain,” she replied tapping the warp activation button.
“Mr Moq, see if you can raise them, let them know help is on the way.”
“Aye sir.”
* * * * *
Accommodation Section, Deep Space 10
Yaren System, Lazon Sector
Jil Sarat, diplomatic attaché to Envoy Marvek of the Cardassian Alliance, stood in quiet the turbolift well aware of the four pairs of eyes that watched her intently. Even though she had only been sixteen when the war ended, she knew that there were many in the quadrant who didn’t like Cardassians, nor would they ever, so she had come to expect suspicion whenever she was off planet. Her way of dealing with it was to keep as low a profile as possible, avoid eye contact and try to keep out of the way of others—after all she wasn’t the one with a security escort.
The lift slowed and she glanced at the display. It was her stop. The doors parted and she quickly slipped out, a Bolian mother pulled her young son closer to her as Sarat passed them. The corridor was empty so when the turbolfit doors closed, she was able to take a breath. She had hoped that over the last ten years things may have changed, but hate and fear weren’t so easy to recover from. It was the reason she had joined the diplomatic corps, hoping to try and ease some of the animosity, to build bridges and work on establishing better relations. Three years in, after gaining distinctions in political science and sociology, she was still little more than a secretary, running errands and taking minutes—not exactly the kind of thing that changed the galaxy.
With a sigh she headed towards the VIP section. Marvek was late for a conference call and hadn’t been responding to his comlink, nor was his bodyguard, Glinn Toren. It wasn’t the first time she’d been unable to get in touch with them; they were typically thick as thieves due to their family connections, Marvek having been good friends with the soldiers’ father, and both of them having an over-fondness for kanar. As such she didn’t want to involve station security and have the makings of a scandal on her hands, though the Envoy had assured her they wouldn’t celebrate until after the meeting with Councillor T’Vell—though this wouldn’t be the first time he’d made her such assurances either.
Maybe I could ask for a transfer, she mused as she walked through the well-lit corridors, which were an inoffensive shade of beige, as were most of the civilian or crew areas, whilst operational sections were typically grey—not that she’d gotten to see many of those areas of the station. She shook her head and cleared the thought, as menial as the work was, she was present when the Cardassian Alliance was making history, though as a witness rather than someone who could shape it, but still it was a beginning. A few years with Marvek and she’d be on course for doing great things herself, after all the man had to retire sometime soon.
Sarat rounded the last corner and saw that Toren wasn’t standing by the door, which meant the Envoy was either elsewhere in the station or, more likely, they were inside with an open bottle. She got a sinking feeling as she neared the door, wondering what excuse she could use this time for his tardiness—the Representatives back home had heard most of the plausible ones so far, which meant she’d need to get creative, even though they would all know the truth anyway.
She tapped the enunciator and waited. There wasn’t a sound from inside. She tried it again but was met with the same response. Gods, when did they start this morning? Did they even go to bed last night? The Federation Councillor would be here tomorrow morning, with talks due to start immediately. The Cardassian Alliance needed to strengthen its bonds with the UFP if they were to keep going, with a weak economy base and a limited infrastructure they needed a more robust treaty with the Federation. It would benefit both sides, as a more stable Alliance would help maintain the peace in the former Union’s space, which would give the UFP a stronger partner in regional affairs, as well as opening multiple bases and planets up for Starfleet to have full access to.
She tried one last time, then tapped in Marvek’s door code—she always made sure to memorise it, for times like this. The doors parted and she stepped into the lounge area, expecting to see them there, sitting, slouched or passed out, talking, singing or snoring, but it was empty. Everything was just as it had been the previous evening when she’d left.
Her brow creased as she looked around. There was a full bottle of kanar on a tray on top of the low table in the middle of the seating area, just as it had been last night, the four glasses right where she’d last seen them. On the desk, the terminal was off and the stack of datapads hadn’t been touched—particulars of the meeting with Councillor T’Vell that Marvek was ‘going to peruse’ when she’d left for her own bed. The sinking feeling she’d had outside deepened, her stomach tightening.
“Envoy?” she called out. “Envoy Marvek? Glinn Toren?”
The silence made her heart pound.
Slowly, she headed for the bedroom, the door to which was closed. As she got closer she noticed a change in the air, she could taste a metallic tang. The doors remained shut when she reached them. Hand shaking she tapped the panel.
As the whispered open, the smell intensified, like a smack to the face causing her to step back.
Don’t go in there! Call security! her mind screamed at her, but she stepped forward, into the bedroom.
Jil Sarat’s scream could be clearly heard in the corridor outside Envoy Marvek’s sepulchre.
* * * * *
