USS Galaxy: The Next Generation Sim Log
Stardate: 60901.18 - 60901.24 |
Logs |
| "Re-united with the Ex" Colonel Branwen London Commander Man'darr Maivia Lt. Jennifer Adams (NPC--Aaron) Captain Yushiro Nokumora (NPC--Betred)
Man'darr sat on the metal slab that was a bed. His wrists were bound in titanium shackles that could either lock the wrists together or allow limited movement with the press of a button. At present, they only allowed limited movement. Man'darr silently wondered when his ex-wife would visit him. He thought back to the battle in which her other Hydran child had been killed. She had hated him ever since--if hate was enough to describe her feelings towards him. He hadn't meant to cause her so much harm--but that was what happened during war. Even though he was a Capellan--a species who enjoyed war—he hated this war. It had ripped Starfleet and the Federation apart...now each person fought to merely survive. He then heard the sound of heavy doors opening and footsteps approaching his cell. Colonel London came in, flanked by her officers. Seeing him again for the first time in years brought so many mixed emotions. Most of it was hate for what he had done to her son. A tiny bit was regret for what they had had, a family and love. Man'darr was the one who threw it all away by murdering Daffydd. Man'darr looked up and saw his ex-wife. She was still beautiful--yet she was the enemy. They fought on opposite sides now. "How is my crew?" he asked simply. Crewman Second Class Maxel R'zarin stood at the picture perfect 'Parade Rest' on the other side of the door while the Colonel made her way to 'speak' with the Captain of the enemy vessel. The Andorian's antennae twitched just slightly at the sight of the large Capellan. A part of him felt bad... from one race of warriors to another, there was a sympathy to his predicament. Not wanting to give up... but not wanting to get those under your command killed either. Captain Yushiro Nokumora observed the meeting from the monitors in the observation and control room. He was unsure how an honorable warrior like the Capellan could also be the murderer of his own child. Biggs had asked him to keep an eye on things, and that he intended to do, his hand poised over t he 'kill' switch that would flood the room with sleepy gas should Lieutenant Jennifer Adams, the ship's Chief of Security, stood next to the colonel as she approached the cell door and the enemy commander spoke to her. The colonel had her complete support--and knew it. In her eyes, they were at war and needed all the useful information they could get. If getting information out of prisoners were an art, then the colonel was Leonardo de Vinci...or so the rumors had said. She wondered how the colonel would react with her ex-husband. "Your crew are treated fine." Bran was answering the prisoner her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "You do understand that I will not extend the same hospitality to you." "I would expect as much from you," Man'darr replied. He knew his ex-wife would want to handle him personally. "But do not think that I fear you." "No, I didn't think you would. Fearing me would be smart, that you are not." She was trying to bring his temper up, wanting him to give her an excuse to strike out. "Then Capellans are not known for their intelligence, are they?" The old Man'darr would have gotten angry and a bit of that anger began to rise but years of war and the experience of Command had tamed him in some ways. He wasn't the angry, hotheaded person he had once been. "Trying to anger me, Branwen?" Man'darr chuckled. "Lets see, considering I graduated from Vulcan Science Institute in Computer Science and you graduated from a backwards society in which you abuse children and don't allow them to breed outside of their race, who do you think is the smarter one here? And Capellans are known for their honor and fighting prowess...something you lack." The colonel just shook her head. "That is why I outrank you now, is it? And it is very honorable killing a fifteen year old." Her face held only contempt. "Your....son," a part of him still hated that sound when describing Branwen's deceased child. "Attacked me. I defended myself and he died as a result. He was a foolish child that learned the hard way to never attack a Capellan. As for you outranking me, your faction, the Doves, will promote anyone to captain a ship...you're desperate." With difficulty Bran kept herself under control. "Is that the way you punish a child, by killing it? I am glad I made sure that you will never see your own children again." That was bound to hurt. "Your...child knew very well what it was getting itself into," Man'darr was now angry as it had been a weak spot within him to not to be able to see his own children. "He was fifteen, a bloody cadet, a baby!" She shouted loosing her composure as well. "You were just looking for an excuse to kill him. Rest assured that your children hate you now, you piece of filth." She edged closer to him willing him to make the first move. "It is not my fault you do not teach your...children not to challenge those who are stronger, faster, and more experienced than they." With that, he let his anger get to him as he swung his shackled arms at Branwen. It was what she had been waiting for, shackled as he was she parried him easily and retaliated with a swift kick to the groan. "Bastard!" She hissed. "Bloody murderous bastard." In the observation booth, Nokumora flipped up the protective cover over the 'kill' switch and poised his finger over the button. He contemplated contacting Col. Duke, but decided there wasn't much the Marine Force CO could do that he had not already done. Lt. Adams drew her phaser as a precaution, yet was sure that the colonel knew what she was doing. Man'darr dropped instantly to the deck, taking in deep breaths as the pain in his groin throbbed. Being shackled had slowed him down enough and he had paid for it. "You never could fight with honor," Man'darr spoke through the pain. "And you do. Killing little kids." She went to him and removed the shackles. "I am not afraid of you, child killer." Nokumora's finger hovered closer to the button that would flood the room with anestatine gas, putting everyone that breathed it asleep almost instantly. With his other hand, he activated the comm. =/\=Duke, Nokumora -- priority, sir.=/\= =/\=This is Duke. Sendit.=/\= =/\=Colonel London has unshackled the prisoner.=/\= Biggs didn't need an explanation as to WHICH prisoner. He tried to convince Branwen of the folly of being personally involved with revenge. The Klingon's used to say, "Revenge is a dish best served cold." To this, Duke added, "As take-out." Maybe if she got her ass kicked, she would learn the lesson. =/\=Continue to observe. Put the RRT on hot stand-by. You know what to do. Duke, out.=/\= The anger within Man'darr had reached its point. Seeing the shackles fall off his wrists, he gathered his strength, his hand at Branwen's throat and pushed her, sending her flying across the cell and against the bulkhead. Nokumora's finger twitched above the kill switch, but Lt. Adams' quick action saved him from having to flood the room with gas. Lt. Adams stepped forward with her phaser leveled and fired, hitting Man'darr. She then rushed to Branwen's side, after Man'darr fell to the deck, stunned. "Are you alright, Colonel?" "Yes, yes." She gasped for breath. "I could have taken him, lieutenant." But Bran wasn't really angry with Adams. The colonel fingered her neck. "I didn't want to take that chance, colonel. You are a great captain and I would be failing in my job as Chief of Security if I allowed any harm to come to you. Getting into a hand-to-hand combat with a Capellan isn't the smartest of moves, Colonel. Leaving him restrained would be the best option due to his speed and strength. Then punish him however you'd like." She shook her head. "There is no honor in punishing him. I invited him to come at me. Put him back on the bed, Lieutenant. Maybe I should leave this interrogation to others." Bran came to her feet. Adams watched Branwen for a moment. "You still love him, don't you, colonel?" "Of course not." She snapped. Bran couldn't say more, maybe Adams was one of the few that did not know about her and Duke. "But he is the father of my children. I will not do to them what he did to Rowena." "Yet, you keep him from seeing the children...would that not be the same thing as him being dead to them? You said you wanted him punished.... and yet...a single knee to the groin is hardly punishment for killing your child." "That..." Man'darr breathed heavily as he slowly got to his feet as the effects of the stun began to wear off. "Lieutenant...is because she is a coward. She is too afraid to admit that she may still harbor feelings towards me so she lies to not only herself but everyone else." "For something like you?" She said with contempt. "Hell, I should have ended that marriage years ago. Best thing I ever did." "Another lie, Branwen? Thats all you ever did in our marriage, was lie. So now you are saying you wish our children were dead? Because they would never have had existed if we had separated." "What would you know about mourning children, you sick animal." She edged closer to him again. "It would have spared them a lot of grief. Yeah, your kids loved Daffydd, and they mourned him." "I mourn those I care about and serve with. Our children mourn only because you do not allow me to see them and because you most likely have not told them how your children were implanted into you as an experiment." "Oh Man'darr, they know everything and unlike you they accepted Daffydd and Rowena. They understood that what was done to me was not my fault. You should see Rowena; she is such a wonderful person. Someone to be proud off. And Daffydd…." She choked on the words. There was still a soft spot at seeing Branwen hurt...he was a much different man now than he used to be. "Your...son, was a fool, Branwen. If you would get past your hatred of me for killing him, you would see that. He challenged me, and he lost. He knew that he could die if he challenged me and he did. I gave him the option to go, but he was too stubborn and too hard headed. Remind you of anyone?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Was it difficult to win from a fifteen year old cadet? You could have said no, you could have let him live, and a honorable man would have." "Do not speak to me of honor," Man'darr snapped. "I gave him the chance to leave and he declined. "If it makes you any better, I am sorry for causing you so much pain and grief, but I know that will do little to ease your emotions and hatred towards me." "You think?" She raised an eyebrow. "It's better if I leave and turn you over to the tender mercies of Lt. Adams, before either of us does something we will regret, Maivia." "That implies that either you are a coward and cannot interrogate me yourself or you still harbor feelings towards me...or is it both?" Lt. Adams had moved closer towards Man'darr in case he tried to make a move. If the colonel was worried about what the others would think, she could have the area cleared of all personnel. Being the Chief of Security did have its benefits. She looked at the large Capellan and wondered what sort of body that uniform barely hid. She then placed those thoughts to the back of her mind as she wondered what decision the colonel would make. Branwen smiled. "No I am not a coward, commander. I am afraid that if I stay here I will kill you and you are not worth going to jail over. I will not deprive my children of their mother. And I will not be the killer of their father." "Hmmm...You did not deny the fact of harboring feelings towards me," Man'darr replied with a grin. "You know...its ironic...you have become the very person I once was...the person that you supposedly hate so much." "Why is it so important to you to know if I still have feelings for you. I don't, I am very happy with a new man in my life and I have moved on. So I have not become a monster like you. I still have friends and loved ones, unlike you." "Are you sure about that?" Man'darr questioned. "Do you not think I haven't moved on? I have." I do not care if you have moved on or not. You might as well as be dead to me." Saying that did cause him some hurt--they had learned to love each other unconditionally...and it all had ended so quickly. "Good for you. Because you are dead to me." It was not completely true. But to see him again and again hear him have no remorse at all for killing her son helped to kill those last feelings. "I somehow doubt that, seeing as you cannot even interrogate me yourself." "Do you want to die?" She snapped her patience wearing very thin. "Do you forget that I'm a Capellan? I do not fear death as you do!" Adams had had enough as her leg struck the Maivia's knee, in a swift kick as the dropped to the deck. "That's enough! You'll speak to Colonel London with more respect!" "Enough." Bran said. "Everybody out and see that the prisoner gets medical attention." She walked to the door. Seeing her ex-husband again affected Branwen more then she thought it would and right now she wanted time to think on how to deal with him. "Interrogation"
Lt. Commander Nina Litterest, USS Liberty (NPC written by Aaron) Lieutenant Jennifer Adams, COS, USS Trafalgar (NPC written by Aaron) Ensign Rowena London, USS Trafalgar (NPC written by Betred)
<Security Offices, USS Trafalgar>
Aboard the USS Trafalgar, Lieutenant Jennifer Adams was in her office, looking over the latest reports on materials, weapons, and equipment that had been seized from the USS Liberty. The engineers seems to be happy at having loads of spare Warp Coils and bio-neural gel packs, along with other spare parts and personal weapons. The door chimed and she looked up from the PADD. "Enter." Rowena London entered. "You wanted to see me ma'am?"
"Yes, have a seat, Ro," she gestured to the empty seat in front of her desk, smiling. She had liked the kid, despite her being part Hydran. She was very bright and eager to learn. "I understand you tried to visit the prisoner Man'darr Maivia, earlier today.
Ro ducked her eyes in embarrassment. "Yes, ma'am," she responded quietly.
"Its alright...to be honest, I couldn't blame you for wanting to do so. You're not in any trouble, Ro. It's just us, so no need for the ma'am stuff. I'd imagine your mother was pretty pissed at you.
Rowena was a bit puzzled by her superior's attitude. It was much more casual then she the officers at the academy. With a shy smile, she answered, "Was she ever! I thought she was going to pop a gasket!"
Jennifer chuckled. "I imagine she was only trying to protect you. You've been doing well in the assignments you've been given."
Ro brightened. "Gee, thanks Lieutenant. I try to do well."
Jennifer mulled over the information she learned and knew that Ro would want to know. "Ro, you should know that we have a Lieutenant Commander Nina Litterest in the brig. She was the Chief Intelligence Officer aboard the Liberty...and it seems that she and Man'darr have an interest in one another."
"Like, they're dating or something?"
"More like lovers, I believe. I thought that since you work with Security, you should know," she made the excuse for telling Ro the information, as she leaned back in her chair.
Rowena was having a hard time processing the information Adams had given her. Dar and another woman? "But I thought he loved my mother?" Ro felt betrayed on her mother's behalf. The fact that Branwen was also with another man was somehow -- different.
"I think the love between your mother and Commander Man'darr Maivia is over with and has been for quite some time, Ro."
"So what are you going to do to this Nina person?" asked Rowena.
"She has yet to be interrogated, but as she is an Intelligence Officer, she holds key information that we could use and there are very few rules regarding interrogating captured Intelligence Operatives due to their training and value as prisoners."
"Uh, does Ma -- I mean Col. London know about this?"
Jennifer chuckled. "You can call Colonel London by mom, as she is just that. But yes, she knows of the relationship."
Ro was surprised her mother hadn't let something slip about knowing. "So what happens now?" Jennifer sighed. "I'm scheduled to begin interrogating her in about thirty minutes...Ro, I know you feel denied justice for being unable to visit Commander Maivia, and I'm sorry you feel that way...so I'm going to make you an offer here...would you like to interrogate Lieutenant Commander Litterest?
Rowena gulped. She had never had the chance to conduct an interrogation. "You want me to question her? You meant help, right, uh, hand you the drugs, that sort of thing?"
Adams shook her head. "Nope. I am offering you the chance to conduct the interrogation. Look at it as a way to hurt Commander Maivia in a much different and painful way than killing him. Don't worry; I will be there to help if you need it. It will be just us two conducting the interrogation. You'll be safe, I promise.
Ro wasn't concerned for her safety; she was terrified of messing up the assignment. "But, I've never interrogated a prisoner before -- I mean, I know the theories and I've read the manuals –"Her voice faded as Ro saw the disapproving look in Adams' eye. Gathering her wits, Ro said, "Yes. Uh, thank you Lieutenant. I accept the assignment. When do you want to begin?"
Adams stood and placed a reassuring hand on Ro's shoulder, smiling down at her. "You will do fine, Ro. The only thing is to keep your emotions in check for the most part as I know it may be hard since she is the lover of your brother's killer."
Rowena gulped. "Ahh, before we begin, can I, umm, you know?"
Jennifer raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Can you what?"
"I have to go to the lavatory," said Ro, embarrassed at her lack of bladder control when nervous.
"Oh," Jennifer was embarrassed at having to ask such a stupid question. "Sure, go ahead." ***Brig Area; Cell Three*** Nina sat on the metal slab for a bed as she thought about her situation. Her blond hair which was usually worn up now hung just past her shoulders, against her torn and dirty uniform. She hoped Man'darr was ok. A part of her was afraid, as she knew there were little rules in regarding the treatment of Intel officers due to their knowledge. Often Intel Officers were taught to commit suicide before being captured by the enemy due to such occasions. She had failed and now she sat, only able to wait for whatever was to come. Rowena had done more than just pee during her visit to the lavatory -- she had barely made it into the stall when the contents of her stomach heaved and she vomited into the toilet bowl. She had never been so nervous. She wondered why. After vomiting, she did feel more calm, more in control. As she cleaned up at the sink, she spoke to her reflection in the mirror, "You can do this. It's just another test. You will pass this test. Null perspiration!"
Feeling better, Ro exited the lavatory and walked with Lt. Adams to the prisoner's cell.
Reaching the brig area, Jennifer stopped Ro. "Ro, if you don't feel up to this, just let me know. In this situation, I will be your assistant and follow your commands unless I feel you are doing something dangerous or wrong, ok...ma'am?" she teased with a wink and a smile.
Rowena gulped again, but forced the butterflies down. "I'm ready." Taking a deep breath, she keyed open the door to Litterest's cell.
Nina stood up as she watched the young woman and another enter the cell. "Who are you?" Staring at Litterest, Ro allowed herself to grow cold and cut off her emotions. This was the woman who was fucking the man who killed her brother. The enemy. Not a person, but the enemy.
"Computer, retract bunk," Ro ordered.
The bunk retracted into the bulkhead in the large, square cell that was also used as an interrogation room and not a simple Brig cell.
"So, not going to tell me who you are?" Nina asked with crossed arms and looking at the young woman in front of her.
Ro kept silent as she observed the woman, walking in a slow circle around her just outside of arm's reach. Once she had completed the circle, she asked, "You are Lieutenant Commander Nina Litterest, yes?"
"Yes, that's me."
Rowena made another silent circle around the captured commander. When it was again complete, she asked, "And your posting on the Liberty was as Chief Intelligence Officer, yes?"
"Again, yes. You keep stating the obvious."
Ro began to circle the prisoner yet again, but this time, halfway around, she lashed out with her left foot, striking Nina inside her right knee.
Nina dropped to one knee as she let out a scream. Her hands held the assaulted knee.
Rowena completed her circle and stood in front of Nina, again just out of arm's reach. "What was Liberty doing in Sector 001?" she asked, careful to keep her voice even and not react to the kneeling woman's obvious pain.
"Taking a scenic route to Risa," Nina replied with a chuckle as she slowly got to her feet again. Before Nina could stand straight, Ro snap kicked at her other knee. She repeated the question. Nina bit her lip to keep from screaming out in pain again as she again dropped to her knees on the deck. "I told you we were taking a scenic route to Risa," she managed through gritted teeth. "Very well, why were you going to Risa?" asked, Ro, playing along.
"To take a vacation," she chuckled. "War does intend to wear people out." Nina once again slowly began to get to her feet.
Rowena let Nina stand and watched her body language, gauging when to strike again, as she continued her circling around the prisoner. When Nina relaxed ever so slightly, Ro was once again in front of her. Rowena punched Nina in the stomach, and then as she double over, smashed her nose with her knee.
"What scenic sites do you visit on Earth?"
Nina spit out the blood on the deck and took a few breaths before answering. "I never visit Earth. Only fools visit that place...we only happened to fly by it when the battle started." Jennifer stood next to the exit. The cell had been soundproofed and the door locked. She was thus far impressed with Ro, as she seemed to be handling herself well.
"Fly by from where?" Ro asked. "Never Never Land...where do you think? Hawk Space, where else?"
Without warning, Ro slammed the heel of her boot right between Nina's legs. "Lieutenant, your assistance, please." Keying open a concealed locker, Rowena retrieved a set of wrist shackles and tossed them to Lt. Adams. While the lieutenant shackled Nina's wrists together, Ro activated a maglock in the ceiling of the interrogation room. Nina was almost ripped from Lt. Adams hands as her wrists were forced over her head and her entire body lifted off the floor by the force specifically programmed to lock on to the bracelets she now wore. A second set of shackles quickly applied to Nina's ankles and keyed to the floor kept the woman from kicking out at her tormentors.
Nina attempted to struggle as her limbs were being forced into their restraints.
Rowena grabbed Nina's uniform by one of the many tears provided and peel her free of her clothing until the prisoner hung naked from the ceiling by her wrists. Removing a hypospray from the locker, Ro chose a medication, and approached the woman who now dangled in front her, spread like a sacrificial lamb. Ro pressed the hypospray to Nina's thigh.
"The medication I have just given you has two primary effects. The first cause the heart rate to increase and stimulates the body to prevent someone from falling into unconsciousness. The second effect is subtler, working directly on the nerve endings in the dermis. You will soon feel a crawling sensation -- this is to be expected. The drug is to force a body to simulate the effect of being slowly covered in biting, stinging insects. When you tell me why the Liberty was sent to Sector 001, I will give you the antidote."
Nina could feel the crawling/tingling sensation begin as she attempted to remain calm. She felt exposed and vulnerable at being hung completely nude in the cell. She was thankful there were two women and not any men in the cell. "I...I told you...we were simply...on our way to Risa." "Computer, increase tension on shackles, 2 cm per minute." Ro ordered. Nina let out a small scream as her limbs were pulled and stretched as the restraints moved closer to the deck and ceiling. Part of her wanted to give the information while her training and the other half told her to deal with the pain.
Should she continue? Ro glanced over at Lt. Adams, but could find not guidance in her features. Rowena wasn't sure what to do next, but Lt. Adams had placed in her charge of the interrogation. 'Let's see what she'll do,' Ro thought.
"Lieutenant, do you have any experiments you'd like to try?" Ro asked. "We seem to have a willing subject." As she said this, the tension on the shackles increased again.
Adams stepped forward and placed a hand on Ro's shoulder. "You've done well so far...these Intel Officers are often hard to crack." She looked up at the nude lieutenant commander, with her limbs stretched tight. She delivered a fast, solid punch to Nina's stomach. "Talk!" "I...told you...what..we...were...doing," Nina gasped through her rapid and heavy breathing. Jennifer walked over to a nearby container and opened it, revealing a small device. Jennifer turned and placed the small device on Nina's right chest. In her palm, she held a small remote and pressed a button on the remote. The small device came to life, jolting Nina's body with electricity. Nina's body shook and withered as she screamed loudly. "Talk!" Jennifer said as she backhanded Nina hard across the face.
Nina's head hung down with her body breathing hard to suck in much needed oxygen. "We...we. ..were there to pick up someone...a...a female....I do...not...know her...name."
"Very good," Jennifer said with a grin as the restrained loosened and Jennifer gave Nina the antidote as was promised.
Rowena was impressed; she had not expected Nina to crack so quickly. Ro walked over to where Nina now lay on the floor and squatted down next to her. Brushing some hair out of the prisoner's eyes, she said gently, "You've done well, Commander. What you have told is a start -- if you continue to tell the truth, these techniques will not be necessary. Tell me, Nina, tell me who gave the order for you to come to Earth and pick up this female. Tell me all of what you know."
Nina swatted Ro's hand away. "I don't know," she replied angrily through heavy breathing. Her entire body seemed to pulse with pain. Rowena's anger, excitement, frustration and loneliness all exploded within her at once. She grabbed the hand Nina had swatted at he with and with a quick twist, snapped sever of her fingers. With a vise like grip, Ro fastened her other hand around Nina's throat and began to squeeze. She began to punch the older woman in the chest, in the ribs, in the stomach, in the face, venting her rage and humiliation. Ro hissed at the prisoner, "You want to know who I am. My name is Rowena London and you will (punch) tell (punch) me (punch) what (punch) I (punch) want (punch) to (punch) know!"
Nina did the best she could to try and cover and protect herself from the vicious attack while struggling to breathe. Jennifer calmly placed a hand on Ro's shoulder. "Not too rough, now." Ro stopped. She looked at the damage she had done to Nina's face. She looked at Jennifer and in so doing, caught her reflection in the one-way surface of the control and observation booth window.
Rowena wasn't sure who gazed back at her from that window.
She let go of Nina's throat.
"Its alright, Ro...You're doing good. You just need to try and keep your emotions in check during this. Don't worry, it's just us, here. Nobody else has access to this cell at this time except us. Only Colonel London can enter and I believe she is busy with ship affairs," she whispered into Ro's ear. "Do you wish to continue?"
Ro stepped away from Nina, still gazing at the unknown reflection of herself. "Umm, sure. Give me a minute, k?"
Jennifer nodded. "Ok." "What's the matter, don't have the stomach to interrogate people," Nina said, taking in several deep breaths. Jennifer immediately sent a swift kick to Nina's side. "Silence!" She then turned back to Ro, hoping the young woman was all right.
Ro reached for the remote in Jennifer's hand, grabbed it, pressed the button. Immediately, the device on Nina's chest sent agonizing jolts of electricity through her body.
Nina screamed in agony on the deck. She wanted the pain to stop but she could not betray those who had placed their trust in her--especially Man'darr.
Rowena marched over to the locker for another hypospray. Without bother to explain, she stopped jolting Nina only long enough to inject something into her buttocks, then ordered the computer to tighten the restraints once again so that the prisoner was again stretched out in the middle of the room. Ro shook her head at Jennifer, signaling her to remain silent. She wanted to see how long it would take Nina to ask what she had been given.
Nina let out a scream as her limbs were again pulled away from her body tightly. "Wh..what have...you...done?" Nina asked as the pain from her limbs subsided slightly.
"When you answer our questions, truthfully, I will answer yours," responded Rowena.
"I...I told you...that I don't know...who gave us...the order to...pick up the...girl."
"Nope. I said truthfully," tisked Ro. For emphasis, she gave Nina another jolt. "No more lies."
Nina again screamed from the electricity. Her body felt hot from the multiple shocks as her head hung. "I...don't...know..." Nina responded. "The person...never...gave us...his...name."
"What person?" asked Ro. "Where did you meet?" Ro held the remote up to Nina but did not use it to shock her this time. "I said...I don't know....he never...gave a...name." "She appears to be telling the truth," Adams responded as she pointed to her temple as Ro looked back at her, reminding her that she was part Betazoid. Ro nodded that she understood. "Where did this meeting take place?" "Over...secured...channels...."
"Where was your ship when you received this message?" asked Ro. "Tell me quickly, before the medication I gave you begins to take effect!" Nina could feel her insides begin to burn. She thought of Man'darr and her love for him. Fighting back tears, she broke. "We...we...were near...Vulcan." She hung her head in defeat.
Ro tried to keep the excitement out of her voice. "One last question, for now, Commander, and you can rest. Did you keep a log of the transmission and what are the access codes?" "No...logs and codes...were...deleted and changed...after the transmission...at the request...of the...other person.
Ro released the restraints, allowing Nina to collapse on the deck. "Commander, you may have a four hour rest period and we will begin again. I'm sure you understand that the lights will have to remain on. Water will be brought to you. You have not given us enough truthful information to earn a meal yet, or clothing."
Ro and Jennifer turned to leave. As if remembering, Rowena turned back to Nina. "Oh, and the second hypo you received was a shot of normal saline. There was nothing in it that could have harmed you. I hope your next shot is the same."
Nina lay curled up on the cool deck, fighting back tears. As the two exited the cell, Jennifer turned to Ro. "I'm proud of you. You did very well," she smiled.
Rowena drank in the younger woman's praise, but still felt a tad ashamed at what she had done to Nina. "Can I tell Mama about the girl they were there to pick-up?"
Jennifer nodded. "Of course. She will want to know about it."
Ro was glad she would be able to bring some good news to her mother, but was still embarrassed about losing her temper and punching Nina. "I'm sorry I lost my temper in there; she just made me so mad--" Jennifer placed a reassuring hand on Ro's Shoulders. "You did just fine, Ro. Especially for your first interrogation. Its something you need to know how to do if you are going to be in Security and often, Intel Officers are the hardest to break...that is behind Chief Security Officers," Jennifer said with a playful wink.
Rowena smiled back at her boss. "Thanks for the confidence; I'm sure I'll do better next time." Ro considered how they had left Nina naked, crying on the floor. "What's going to happen to her?" "Oh, a doctor will be sent to check on her and heal her injuries. She will then be given standard prison clothes and a meal afterwards."
Ro thought about Jennifer's answer, and was only a slight bit ashamed to ask, "Wouldn't it be better to just leave her to stew until the next session; you know, break down a bit more?" The young ensign wasn't watching where she was walking and stumbled on an uneven deck plate. "Giving her clothes and help will get her spirits up and then having her stripped again will do more to demoralize her--" she caught the young woman around the waist to keep her from falling. She enjoyed the closeness and athletic, toned body of Ro. Seeing that they were alone, Jennifer pushed Ro into the nearby bulkhead and kissed her.
It had happened so suddenly, Rowena's lips responded before her brain went into gear. Jennifer was kissing her! And, surprisingly, it wasn't completely terrible. Ro broke off the kiss, startled more than alarmed. "I, um, what--?" "Sorry for catching you off guard," Jennifer apologized. She and Ro had only recently begun their relationship.
"That's alright," said Ro, blushing. "I wasn't expecting it, I mean, out in public -- we could get caught." Rowena glanced up and down the corridor and finding it still empty of others, returned Jennifer's kiss with interest.
The two finally broke away from each other. "I have some reports to do, but maybe I'll see you later tonight?"
"I'll stop by when I'm done talking to Mama," answered Ro. “After Shocks”
Colonel Branwen London, commanding USS Trafalgar Lt. Colonel Wayne “Biggs” Duke, NPC (written by Betred) Ens. Rowena London, NPC (written by Betred and Mieke)
After comforting Rowena and finally sending her back to her quarters on her way back Bran stopped at Duke’s place and waited until he opened the door. “Am I welcome?”
Duke was wearing his olive drab green robe and was toweling his hair dry. It was obvious he had just stepped from the shower to answer the door. "Of course," he said, waving Branwen inside.
“I couldn’t stay mad at Ro.” She started to cry. “Ro is so confused. And I am afraid she is going to try again.” She delved into his arms and clung to him tightly.
Duke held the petite woman close, letting her cry on his already damp robe. He stroked her back and kissed the top of her head, but said nothing, knowing Bran would have to get this all out on her own.
She muttered something in Welsh. “Couldn’t he have just died in the battle? What do I do with Ro; tie her to the bed for weeks? Hell what do I do with myself?”
Duke assisted Bran to the couch and sat down with her, still holding her close. "What do you want to do with yourself?" He wasn't a counselor, but every time he had been made to go see one that seemed to be the type of questions they asked.
“I don’t know. Get rid of him. I can’t kill him, I really can’t because I am not like him. But having him here is hard. On the other hand I wouldn’t trust anybody else to deliver him to his judges.” She wiped her eyes. “I just wish it was all over.”
Duke gently pushed Branwen away from him and forced her to look into his face. "Damn it woman, you know better than that -- wish in one hand, shit in the other; see which one fills up first! I didn't ask what you wanted to do with Man’darr -- I asked what you wanted to do with yourself! You! Col. Branwen London."
She shrugged. “It is all mixed together. What do you want me to say? I love you; I want him gone from my life.”
Duke sighed. "It's not what I want you to say -- what do you WANT to say? What do YOU want to do?" He stood up and walked away, leaving Bran on the couch as he entered into his tiny bedroom.
“Yeah, be a man and walk away from a conversation,” she growled. “Maybe I don’t want to say anything. I just want you to hold me and tell me everything will be all right.”
Duke knew he shouldn't say anything -- that he should just let Bran stay or go, that he shouldn't really give a damn. But the ballsy little bitch had gotten under his skin; good god, he actually loved her.
He had planned on getting dressed and Bran's outburst caught him half in and half out of his robe. He didn't bother to tie it back in place but came to the doorway to yell back at her, "I'll hold you all damn night if you want, but I'm not going to start lying to you now -- it'll be a long while before anything is all fucking right!"
“Then lie!!! Just tell me it will be. Maybe I am just as frightened as my daughter and I need some cuddling as well!!!!”
Duke wasn't sure what the hell to do. At this point, he wanted to go blow something up -- he always felt better when he blew something up, but women? They always drove him crazy, and except for the inflatable ones, you couldn’t blow them up.
He strode towards Bran with his robe flapping behind him like a cape, his scarred body, still wet visible underneath. When he reached her, he wanted to both hit her and hug her.
Hugging won out.
"Want to spend the night?" asked Duke.
*Next morning*
Bran slowly woke up snuggled close to Duke. Instantly that brought a smile to her face. It was the first time that she had stayed over in his quarters and she liked this waking up together.
There was something warm and soft pushed up against his backside. Duke reached around with one hand, patting, and connected with the firm posterior of his lover. Unfortunately, his elbow connected with her nose.
Duke wasn’t used to Branwen spending the night either.
“Ouch!” She gulped. “That was my nose! Clodhopper marine!” She moved away from him and gingerly fingered her nose.
Duke rolled over. Not a good way to start the day. "Sorry," he mumbled. He decided to try and start over. Leaning towards Bran, he kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose. "Better?"
“Much.” It brought the smile back. “It’s going to take some practice, you know, sharing quarters.” Bran watched his reaction to that one.
Duke didn't quite catch was Bran had said. He had rolled back over and was getting out of the bed when her words actually permeated the morning fog of his before coffee brain. The sheet had tangled around one of his feet, and he hopped on the other leg trying to shake loose, exposing Branwen in the process.
"Wha..?" was all he could manage before gravity asserted itself and he landed on his ass.
“Are you deaf, sweetheart?” She smiled at him. “You are not one of these marines who actually is a bit thick in the head, now are you?”
"Are you asking if I want to live together, I mean, us, um with you?" This was not going well.
“No I was asking if you wanted to move in with my neighbor,” she said, deadpan.
Duke had finally gotten his foot loose from the bedclothes. Talking to a beautiful naked woman about living together is dangerous; blood needed by the brain for proper thought is being diverted elsewhere.
"What's she look like?" asked Duke.
“Let me see, she is 57, four foot one and a bit overweight and she has a nice big mole on her chin, oh and she is cross-eyed. You interested?”
"I don't know, turn around and let me see the rest of you," Duke answered, chuckling.
She stood and did a little twirl. “I thought you had seen enough of me by now. If you don’t know what I look like yet, shame on you, marine!”
Duke chuckled. "Would this mean I get to see more of you?"
“What do you think, smartass? That I would hide myself if we lived together?”
"Well," commented Duke. "You can be a bit selfish with your charms on occasion."
“Do I now.” She came back to the bed just out of his reach, clearly teasing him.
Duke shook his head. "Darlin, I have no time for games. Unless you want this perfectly good hard-on to go to waste, you'd best hop on it now--otherwise, I need a shower and some coffee. I've got simulations to run with Third Platoon today."
“I should be going to work.” She sighed. The world had gone to pieces damn fast now. “But we can’t let all that energy go to waist.” Quick as a cat she jumped on him.
"I could get used to this."
“Really now?” She grinned as her lips found his and her fingers teased his chest.
Duke kissed her deeply and then found a ticklish spot right above her hip.
Her tongue came out and explored his mouth while she opened her legs to give him access. Her hands trailed down to find his member and guide him into her. Duke took the hint and plunged in. Soon they were both moaning as the rug burns accumulated.
Just before Duke's magic moment, he heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and winced. Bran was in full gallop, riding hard, with her head flung back and her eyes closed; she noticed nothing but her own pleasure. Duke tried to slow her down, but Bran was too busy to listen.
"Uhhh, hang on a minute Ro," Duke managed to pant out.
"Eewww, that’s just GROSS!" exclaimed Rowena, standing in the doorway.
“Oh, shit!” Bran called out hurried off of him and covered herself with a sheet. “Ro, honey,”
"At least you could have finished," Duke muttered as he hobbled into the lavatory.
“Stay in there Duke, until I call you.” Bran took a deep breath. “I am sorry, Ro. Come here honey. Why did you come to find me?”
"Hell, these are my quarters! Maybe she came to find me!" yelled Duke from the shower.
Bran blinked. It had not crossed her mind yet that her daughter might want to talk to one of her officers and not to her. “Is that true, Rowena? Did you want to talk to the colonel? It is no problem, I can get dressed and leave you two together to talk.” She smiled at her eldest daughter.
"Geez, Mom," said Rowena. "I'm sorry I interrupted you. I did actually came to talk to Col. Duke -- there was no answer at the door but then I heard a woman scream, so I came into check -- I didn't know you were here." Ro blushed. "It looked like you were having a good time," she smiled.
“Uhm yes we did.” Bran blushed. She climbed off the bed and started to dress. “I will give the two of you some privacy.” She was glad that Ro liked Duke and even came to him to talk. That was a hell of a lot better then her previous stepfather.
"It's nothing major," Ro quickly assured her mother. "I just want his advice on some things, you know, a male viewpoint."
“It’s alright baby.” Her mum said. “I don’t mind. I am glad that you like Duke and you feel you can talk to him.” Bran had finished dressing. “If you want come and see me in my office later.”
“OK, Mom,” replied Ro, “Lt. Adams needs to see you about the interrogations.” Rowena kissed her mother on the cheek and Branwen left Duke’s quarters thinking that perhaps it would be better if he moved in with her – Duke’s rooms were a tad on the small side.
When her mum had left Ro hesitated only a moment. Her initial plan would still work. Quickly she shed her uniform and slipped into the still warm bed. Colonel Duke liked her mum and Ro and her mum looked alike except for the green tinge to her skin. She wanted to find out if despite that she was attractive to human males. If he turned her down it was due to her heritage. Full of anxiety she waited for him to return.
Duke listened at the door, wondering if it was safe to come out. He was running late for the exercise with third platoon. Hearing nothing on the other side of the door, Duke walked into his bedroom to get dressed.
“Hello there, handsome.” Ro lowered her voice to make it sound sexier and then slipped one slender leg on top of the sheets. “It is still warm in here.”
"Yeah? Right," responded Duke, thinking that Rowena was joking with him. "Ro, do you mind waiting in the living area? I've got to get dressed." Duke wasn't concerned that Rowena was seeing him nude -- not after she had walked in on him and her mother having sex.
“No need to get dressed, stud.” Ro smiled at him and hoped that it was seductive. “I can finish what my mother started. I am just a younger version of my mum.” She let the sheet drop a little lower so he could see that she was completely naked as well.
Duke turned to see the teenage girl lying naked in his bed. She was truly a younger version of Bran, perhaps a little leaner of hip and breast, a tad more toned. And tinged slightly green. Duke closed his eyes, hoping he was dreaming.
“Come here, marine.” She said huskily. “Let me give you a treat.” As she had seen in movies she stuck the tip of her tongue between her teeth and went for a sultry look in her eyes.
Duke hated himself for being tempted. "Ensign, you're out of uniform," he stated the obvious. "Get yourself dressed and I'll talk to you in the living room." When Ro made no movement towards getting out of bed, Duke reverted to a full-fledged Corps style bellow. "NOW, MISTER!"
Grabbing his own clothes, he exited the bedroom, wishing he could get the visual of his lover's daughter out of his head. “Councilor Duke?”
Lt. Colonel Wayne “Biggs” Duke, USS Trafalgar (NPC written by Betred) Ensign Rowena London, USS Trafalgar (NPC written by Mieke)
(Occurs immediately following “After Shocks”)
<Col. Duke’s Quarters>
When Rowena came into the living room five minutes later, it was clear that she had been crying. Her dark mascara was smeared all over her face. Trying to wipe her eyes the youngster had made an even bigger mess.
“I am sorry, sir.” She squeaked trying to catch her breath.
Duke had planned on a full out assault. Crying teens made him change his plans. Gently, but still with iron in his voice, he asked, "Just what in the hell did you think you were going to do in there, Ensign?"
“To see if I am desirable to human males.” She squeaked knowing she would need her breather soon. “You like my mum, you don’t like me. It’s because I am Hydran.”
Duke almost laughed, but seeing Rowena's distraught face led him to reassess the situation. "Ro, it has nothing to do with you being half Hydran. It has everything to do with the fact that I'm a superior officer in your chain of command. I'm also old enough to be your father. And," Duke took the plunge, "and, I'm in love with your mother -- and that means I can't be dipping my wick into every pretty young woman I take a fancy to."
Two things flashed through her mind, he really loved her mum and he did find fancy her. Her young face brightened a great deal. “Really, you would take me to bed if it wasn’t for mum and the fact that I am an ensign? You really mean that, sir?”
'This has moved from weird to strange,' thought Duke. "Well," he answered, "there is the age difference. In my culture, the way I was raised, a woman wasn't considered 'of age' until she was at least, umm, twenty-one." Duke gave himself some wiggle room, just in case. "You're attractive and intelligent; I'm sure you can make a young many happy just by batting you're eyes."
Ro looked at the ground. “Ehm…. “ She really didn’t know how to begin. “Do you think it is wrong to have feelings for women? I mean for me as a girl?” She blushed heavily.
Duke sat on the couch to pull on his boots. He paused to consider Rowena's question. He had never been attracted to another man, but had served with such couples and it had never caused any operational problems -- in his experience, Marines were Marines regardless of their sexual orientation. Hell, he'd even dated a lesbian once, before they both figured that out -- and they were still friends and joked about the experience. Wondering if Linda was still alive and what she might be doing, Duke answered, "Feelings are feelings. Feeling love for another woman may not be the so-called 'natural' way of things, but to me it's not unnatural either; it just is. As long as you keep the relationship from interfering with your duty to this ship, I see nothing wrong with it."
Duke finished tying his boots. "Why all of a sudden this concern?"
Another nervous blush. “I ehm…. Oh hell sir, I don’t know what I feel, I don’t know if what I did is something I really want to do, maybe I am not as strong as mum.”
Duke stood -- he was really late for the platoon exercise, but he knew they would start without him and this was important too. "Rowena, I know war makes kids grow up fast. But you're only 17 -- you're not expected to be as strong as your 'mum.' Stop trying to be older than you are and enjoy what you can of the age you are. Wanna walk me to the lift? I'm late for work."
“I am older in Hydran years. I am supposed to be an adult and all. Sometimes I don’t feel like one. I ehm… not really sir. I can’t talk about this in the open. It’s okay, it can wait.”
Duke sat back down on the couch and patted the seat next to him. "Ro, you're only supposed to be what you actually are. All that crap about where you fit in some growth chart or developmental study is bullshit. You are what you make for yourself, and in how you adapt to what the fraged up world hands you. So, why don't you just tell me what's really on your mind, eh?"
“I helped Lt. Adams interrogate the prisoner and I am not sure that I am really proud of what I did in there. And afterwards, I kissed her.” She did not look at the colonel while she told the story.
Duke paused to consider how these two items ran together. "Slow down, Ensign," he said with a kind chuckle. "I need a better SITREP than that -- which prisoner? And what was Lt. Adams reaction?"
“Maivia’s girlfriend. The intel officer.” She spat out. “She broke so easily. And Lt. Adams was proud of my work. Sir, does this mean my Hydran side will take over, that I am evil?”
"I'll bet she was," muttered Duke to himself. "Ro, interrogations are a tricky business. It's easy to cross a line -- hell, it's easy to cross all kinds of lines in wartime. The fact that you are asking yourself these questions stands you well -- if you had gone Hydran, you wouldn't be asking me about this."
Duke and Rowena's eyes met, and he held her gaze. "About evil -- evil is just live spelled backwards. What I mean by that is this -- I do believe that true evil exists, but I don't see it in you. What we often call evil when viewed objectively can be seen as simply another being acting on their own mores -- mores that we do not or cannot understand. True evil knows what it is and relishes it. If you truthfully don't know the answer, then you are not evil."
Duke stood, pulling Ro up off the couch with him. "Ro," he added quietly, but there was steel in his voice. "If I thought you were evil, one of us would be dead and bleeding all over this deck right now."
Duke turned away and gathered his gear. Turning back to the young woman, he smiled genuinely. "As for the kissing -- is Adams the woman that gets your panties wet?"
“I…I think so. I really like her and she likes me. She said I did a good job. You think mum will be proud or not? I now she does interrogations.”
Duke liked being able to respond as his old self -- playing the counselor's role was outside the job description for the grizzled war veteran. "Your mum is always proud of you -- I've heard more about your accomplishments on our, um -- dates, than anything else. As for Adams, I say go for it. Grabbing a little love -- or just a nice piece of ass between battles -- reminds us all of what we're fighting for. Go talk to your mother -- she'll be fret' in about what's up. Don't worry about flashin me -- that will be our secret. Then go get laid if you want to -- but if Adams forces you to do something you don't want, come see me and we'll set her straight. OK?"
Ro giggled “Thank you sir. Oh and I am totally okay with you being with my mum, you know. I think you are pretty great.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then headed out to go find her mum.
Duke watched her as she walked away, admiring how tight her ass was even in uniform. He shook his head in admiration, and was glad a very similar booty -- that of her mother's -- did swing his way. Glancing at his chronometer, he realized that the planned exercise with third platoon was just about over. Shit happens. He made his way to his office, wondering if he'd get the chance to see Branwen again soon -- they had some unfinished business. If not, maybe he'd at least get to go blow something up. "Old Aquaintenances" LtCmdr Janeen Jaxom Ensign Terrence Nemeth (npc) USS Cleveland ==Aboard The Captain's Yacht from the USS Cleveland== They wore plain clothes. No uniforms would do any good on this trip. "You know how pissed off the Captain Reynolds is going to be when he Janeen ignored the question. It was the fourteenth time Terrence had Finally deciding he might deserve an answer, if for nothing else, his Nemeth had to agree. "That 'was' a slight tactical error on his part." Janeen rolled her eyes and returned to concentrating on their mission. "Can we at least turn up the shields? I don't like the idea of facing "Yes," Janeen conceded. It wouldn't be a bad idea in case the Gorn They flew in silence for a bit when Nemeth decided to ask another Janeen let out a short, exasperated sounding sigh, "Because my brother Terrence nodded, "All right, but what about the other part? The part Janeen took on the tone of someone explaining something to a eight 'And,' Janeen thought silently to herself, 'Probably is the only one Janeen trusted her brother. She had all her life. But his latest quest So, she would do this simple task he asked of her. The console in front of them beeped several times. "Right on cue," Janeen said with fake cheeriness. "Unidentified vessel..." the message began with the universal Before the message ended Janeen had stopped the yacht dead in space "Friendly bunch aren't they?" Terrence commented. "Don't do anything stupid," Janeen told him in all seriousness, "We A curiously small Gorn craft came into visual, unlike anything Janeen Janeen had to repress her natural curiosity and not initiate a full The compartment was quickly bathed in the deep emerald glow of Gorn "You have.... hrssss.... tressspasssed Confederation ssspace without "Why?" "Of Dreams and Nightmares" Captain Chris Daniels (Ready Room- USS Hercules) It had taken quite a bit of effort. Late that night, or early that morning depending on how you looked at it, Amazing what some elbow grease, a lot of plasma injector purging, and some And if she knew Chris Daniels, at a moment like this there would be just As Jenna entered the combined Bridge/CIC, she caught the attention of Cdr Inside, Chris sat back quietly in his chair, intensly studying all the data "Enter." When Chris gave the clearance to enter and the titanium doors slid open, Chris glanced over the PADD data and then placed it down on his desk. He "A lot of things nowadays weren't 'intended' for this much war." Chris "The crew quarters on the lower decks are going to be a bit inhospitable He nodded. "Nice." He started some plugging some info into his computer, She gave a weary smile. "Thank you. Why is it I've got the distinct He looked up from his computer, a hardened look of quiet admission on his "Do you really want an answer to that question, Chris?" Chris' shoulders released their tension for a moment as he smirked in defeat. "I was waiting to "These ships don't fix themselves just yet, Captain." Despite the trauma Chris sat back in his chair, thinking for a moment and then looking back at "Jenna, I'm not sure a man who's only drive in life is to destroy his "And what after, hmm?" She turned away... her long-time friend, the man she It was hard to argue political ideology when yours wasn't exactly sound. The thought of just withdrawing to some backwater planet to live in peace after he had offed von Ernst had crossed mind on a few occasions. "You know I'll do anything you ask of me Chris, but please..." She turned "You think I don't think about that Jenna?" He snapped quickly back at her. Recomposing himself, Chris sat in silence for a long moment, staring at the far wall before he answered. Jenna had been nothing but faithful over the years, and often he found she was one of his best voices of reason. Unfortunately, sometimes that meant he lost her cool with her, even if but for a moment. He turned back to face her. "Sorry Jenna...I know they deserve more. But what can I offer them? Like you said, our galaxy is tearing itself apart at the seams...we're forced to kill in order to survive. My dad died because he didn't prescribe to that. So all I can offer our crew is the opportunity to prevent that psycho from killing off all the people who were like my father and still believe in the idea of the Federation." His body relaxed someday and little trace of a glint in his eye was visible. "And maybe someday we'll be lucky enough to survive to see the end of this, and we can sit down and you can cook some of your famous food, I can go build a cottage on Risa and T'Pei can do...whatever it is that entertains her...and all of us can sit back and try to start new lives and try to be happy again...but until then..." he paused and sighed, "all we can do is fight to keep that dream alive. And if part of that is chasing her down, then so be it." "Hearts and Minds" Captain Chris Daniels USS Hercules It had been 23 hours since the Hercules had switched its course to Vulcan. T'Pei had spent her waking hours since the meeting preparing for the most likely She had also endeavored to contact the USS Osler for assistance. They were often in the T'Pei strode onto the bridge, and without pausing in her journey towards the Captain's "No change, Commander." Satisfied, T'Pei nodded, and reaching her destination, knocked. The chime on Daniels' Inside the ready room, the ship's commander had fallen asleep, sitting up, on the couch. Nevertheless, the knock awoke him from his quiet slumber, and as his brain began to "Enter." The figure that entered allowed Chris' shoulders to relax and his breath to release. "What brings you around this late?" After all the years, they were way past formalities T'Pei raised an eyebrow, one corner of her mouth curling up as well. "Why were you He rubbed his eyes as he spoke. "Can I assume you thought it was logical to look for me "Not at all," the Vulcan countered. "This was my first destination." He shrugged. "One of these days I'll wise up..." he smirked as he spoke, then just as "The Osler is in Sector 001." Chris' face contorted slightly as he processed the information. "So it's just us then, "It would appear so." The slight smile disappeared. "Our facilities are insufficient for He sat back on the couch and exhaled a long breath before he spoke. "I know. Believe 'Don't worry, T'Pei.' How many times had she heard that from him over the past ten years? "Besides," he said, almost scoffing as he turned and started to stroll slowly towards the "You are not convinced that our current lives have value?" He pointed a playfully accusing finger at her and smirked. "Now I never said that." "I have found great value in my life in the past few years" the Vulcan said quietly, He cocked an eyebrow, a trait that did not need an explanation as to where he had picked 'You.' But she didn't say that. For long enough that neither of them could remember "This ship and crew have become important to me," she said instead. "However dark our Chris stood with his arms crossed and turned to look at T'Pei as she stared into space. "Yeah, I guess that's one way of looking at it." That was all he could muster. Kicking ===================================== T'Pei stared blankly out the window, wrapping the wool blanket around herself more She could have turned the temperature up, but she refused. Her quarters were the same as There seemed to be so little she could control these days. The door chimed, and T'Pei folded the blanket, shivering briefly as she placed it out of "Enter," she said flatly, returning her gaze to the stars. The door opened and the ensuing footsteps gave no vocal clues as to who they belonged to. She also failed to notice that the figure was a 32-year old, fairly newly minted "Never gets old, does it?" He spoke in his ever familiar boyish tone. "Commander Daniels." T'Pei finally turned her head, and now both physical and mental He got his first full look at T'Pei and was taken aback at how downtrodden she looked. "You look like you could use a nap." A surge of anger rose suddenly in T'Pei's chest and she bit back the urge to yell. What "What brings you to the Galaxy, Commander?" she asked as civilly as she could manage. "You." He smiled, trying not to deliver it with such gravity that it would knock her T'Pei raised her eyebrow, and the familiar gesture on a face turned so unfamiliar "And how have you come to this conclusion?" she said with no small trace of bitterness. "From a purely functional standpoint, your performance reports all indicate you're ready "I do not require your pity, Commander," she hissed, turning her body towards him so T'Pei's little outburst caught Chris off guard. It wasn't too often you saw a Vulcan "No." He delivered the simple word flatly. "Look, T'Pei, I can understand that what "I am not--" T'Pei began, but her voice caught, and she stopped, letting her hair fall in She was not so broken yet as to have lost her pride. So T'Pei stayed silent, her face still hidden by a curtain of hair, and hoped that that After a quiet moment, where he simply looked out at the surrounding space, he turned back "I'll be around for another week finishing up business here. The offer stands until ===================================== They had stood in comfortable silence for several minutes, lost in thought, when Chris "It never gets old, does it, T'Pei?" She looked back at him thoughtfully, wondering for the first time if that was really "The Island, Part 1" Captain Jaal Jaxom ==The Island== The Island, as it came to be known, was simply a hollowed out How it came to be hollowed out was still a mystery. One popular theory The saucer section of a long gone Olympia class hospital ship was Out of necessity and security, all EM emissions were kept to the The Island's only permanent occupants were a doctor, four nurses, a ==USS Panther, Captain's Quarters== beepbeep "…bridge to Jaxom…" There was no answer. "…bridge to Jaxom?" Jaal lazily rolled over after untangling his arm from Mesta's sleeping "Sir," Tupuk's stern tone came over the small speaker, "You wanted to Jaal nodded to no one in particular as he yawned deeply. "Who else is around?" "Stargazer, Thames, Chandra, and Trojan," the Vulcan answered. "Thank you, I'll be up in a minute," Jaal sat up and rubbed his eyes After a good, long session of 'stress relief' sex, they'd both fallen Before he could raise his hand to give her a love slap on the "Yep," replied Jaal rising to his full height and beginning to search "And the laundry…" Mesta added without hiding the distaste she felt. == On the Panther's bridge, the viewscreen was full of planetoids and The scientist on the Island, affectionately called 'Einstein', had That was just too much for the operations trained captain of the "Aye sir." The Insignia class vessel was too large to fit inside the cavern with "Sojor," Jaxom addressed his first officer, "Keep'er steady. Also, off With that, the trio headed to the turbolift and down the transporter room. "The Island, Part 2" Captain Jaal Jaxom & others ==The Island== The bridge of the hospital ship's saucer section was fashioned into a Instead, there was a round table in the center of the room but no It was around this table that four other starship captains waited for When the lift doors swished open, and they did so much slower than Jaal considered the other four captains before speaking. They were all "Ah! Our fearless leader 'has' made it after all," Captain White, of Jaal smiled easily. "I'm hardly the leader," he replied modestly, "You "But lately you seem to have the knack for getting us to consent," "If you say so," Jaal replied, again with modesty. "We were just discussing the latest developments," the Captain of the "That's pretty significant," White intoned. "Any idea what's being traded?" Captain Harris shrugged. "None at this time. I have a few feelers out Jaal nodded and then turned to the one captain who hadn't said "We still can't Vulcan to agree to anything other than they won't Jaal rubbed his chin in thought. That was better than he expected. The Trill captain didn't always give out everything he knew for The other four nodded silently while absorbing the news. "The Gorn?" Harris asked, "And Klingons? You've got some high hopes "I hope so too," Jaal replied coolly. During the conversation, Mesta had inconspicuously taken a few steps Her head bobbed ever so slightly to her left. He noticed it out of the corner of his eye but kept his poker face up. Jaal took a cursory look around the table for something that maybe Then he noticed it. Despite the Island running on minimal power, the life support system Only one person in the room had a coat on. Jaal's eyes narrowed as he folded his arms across his chest. Tupuk recognized the subtle signal and glanced at the man Jaal was scrutinizing. Brad Harris, the newest member of their little band of rebels suddenly "Brad," Jaal leaned on the table now with both hands not taking an eye Harris' eyes shifted left and right before he answered, "I'm… cold. A "The Island, Part 3" Captain Jaal Jaxom & others ==The Island== "Brad," Jaal leaned on the table now with both hands not taking an eye Harris' eyes shifted left and right before he answered, "I'm… cold. A "Well then, let's get McCoy up here to have a look at you then," Jaal The other three present knew Jaxom long enough to know there was "What's going on Jaxom?" Marinsic asked with a suddenly alarmed curiosity. The Trill pulled his side arm and pointed it directly at Harris' "Take off the coat Brad," he said in no uncertain terms. "Tell us "What the hell is going on Jaxom?" Marinsic nearly shouted now. "Settle down," Captain Stock rose his voice. His booming baritone So did Captain White, who already had his own phaser out. Marinsic pulled his clumsily out but held it pointed at the floor. "Well?" Jaal addressed Harris once again. Harris was sweating now. His forehead glistened with indecision. He "Bastard rebels!" He threw his coat down and reached for his belt. Tupuk's Vulcan reflexes were quicker, thank goodness, and before "You have to teach me that sometime," Jaxom told his tactical officer. "I've tried Captain," Tupuk replied with his usual Vulcan aplomb, "You Jaal lowered his phaser and, with everyone else, crowded around the Tupuk was the first to inspect the hardware. "It appears to be some Mesta helped remove the belt. Tupuk laid it on the table carefully and "Well this is a 'fine' how-de-do," Marinsic looked a shade paler now Jaal was silently watching Marinsic. Like himself, the red haired "Who wants us dead?" Jaal finally asked. Tupuk looked up at his captain and explained, "It's Starfleet standard Jaal pursed his lips angrily. Someone had gone through an awful lot of But for what? They all fought the Triad. The only combat they didn't engage in was But those fights were getting more frequent sooner than later. Mesta broke Jaal from his momentary revelry with a gesture. Marinsic had moved to stand next to Tupuk. The captain's hand was The other two captains were ahead of the game much to Jaal's Jaxom really liked having a Betazoid on his side. "Sean," Jaal let his emotions show now. He was angry and his face was
"Old Acquaintances" LtCmdr Janeen Jaxom Ensign Terrence Nemeth USS Cleveland ==Aboard The Captain's Yacht from the USS Cleveland== "You know how pissed off the Captain Reynolds is going to be when he Janeen ignored the question. It was the fourteenth time Terrence had Finally deciding he might deserve an answer, if for nothing else, his Nemeth had to agree. "That 'was' a slight tactical error on his part." Janeen rolled her eyes and returned to concentrating on their mission. "Can we at least turn up the shields? I don't like the idea of facing "Yes," Janeen conceded. They flew in silence for a bit when Nemeth decided to ask another Janeen let out a short, exasperated sounding sigh, "Because my brother Terrence nodded, "All right, but what about the other part? The part Janeen took on the tone of someone explaining something to a eight 'And,' Janeen thought silently to herself, 'Probably is the only one Janeen trusted her brother. She had all her life. But his latest quest So, she would do this simple task he asked of her. The console in front of them beeped several times. "Right on cue," Janeen said with fake cheeriness. "Unidentified vessel..." the message began with the universal Before the message ended Janeen had stopped the yacht dead in space "Friendly bunch aren't they?" Terrence commented. "Don't do anything stupid," Janeen told him in all seriousness, "We A curiously small Gorn craft came into visual, unlike anything Janeen Janeen had to repress her natural curiosity and not initiate a full The compartment was quickly bathed in the deep emerald glow of Gorn "You have.... hrssss.... tressspasssed Confederation ssspace without "Why?" Janeen swallowed once and began to speak. Despite the butterflies in "If you do not gave treaty with usss, then your livesss are forfeit", "Jaal Jaxom," Janeen answered simply. She wanted to ask the Gorn why The Gorn officer snorted, wrestling with whatever ethical conflict he "Thank you," Janeen replied with a small bow in deference. She folded Terrence was busy wondering why the hell he bothered to get involved. "Alsssso, we will..." the Gorn officer froze, moving only to raise a "It would sssseeem Lord K'aa seeksss your presssence immediately," he Janeen nodded in deference once again, "Thank you." "Deviate from that heading, and you and thisss.... hrssss... vesssel With her head still down, Janeen answered, "Of course." Again the large Gorn snorted loudly, then activated his own comm patch Terrence looked at Janeen in awe. "Wow," he said simply while patting "Yes," Janeen answered smiling warmly for a change, "We are..." she “Heaven's Tears” U’caanu Shipyards, S'Sgarnon Prime The Gorn, despite their reputation, are a practical and patient Spawned on a tectonically active home-world and becoming a space- The secret of their metallurgy was an austempering process wherein When Slessh’s vision adjusted from the transporter effect, he saw the The end of the hallway opened op to a large operations station which “What sssship isss thissss?”, Slesssh growled when they stopped at the “It isss not a sssship”, K’aa hissed cryptically. “It’sss a gun.” “A GUN??”, Slessh roared, wide-eyed with disbelief. “FOR WHAT?”” “A warcraft that doesss not yet exissst”, K’aa replied calmly. “But Slessh nodded. Sttarfleet called the weapon the “Mauler” and it was “The largessst ever built.” “And the range?” “Eight billion ‘tau, give or take a few hundred thousssand.” The last comment caused the Lord of the Black Crest to growl. “You K’aa growled back, exposing more fangs than usual and offered the “Accurate, of courssse.” The old warrior suddenly felt the full weight of his century and a “If I opposssed you in thisss K’aa…” “I would kill you”, the Lord of the Red Crest hissed quietly. “I have All eyes in the Ops Center - the Red Crest technicians, the Black “What… isss our target?” “Earthdeath”
(Occurs immediately after ‘Harbinger’ and concurrent with ‘Creation’)
****
It was Early on a Tuesday morning when the world came to an end.
Ostensibly created in a single week, the primary bombardment lasted a mere two hours until every last living thing had been scoured clean from the surface of the third rock from the sun.
It wasn’t difficult really.
Since the halcyon Days of=2 0Kirk, starships had always possessed the ability to wreck havoc on an epic scale across habitable worlds, but on very few occasions had the ability actually been put to use.
The simplest way was merely to use the superheated primary ships phasers to ignite the upper atmosphere into a worldwide firestorm of destruction that, circling the globe, would effectively burn off the every last bit of breathable air form the planet.
But Rebecca wanted more than that....she wanted them to suffer as she had suffered. Fear as she had feared.
She wanted the last denizens of a dying world to cry out with one eternal echo of pain that would match the cry of despair in her own dying soul.
Rebecca von Ernst didn’t just destroy the earth....she tortured it.
The west coast of America was the first to go...overpowered phasers designed to cut through starship shields had no problem stabbing deep into the earth crust, seeking out and triggering massive earthquakes along the tectonic fault lines.
Entire portions of the continental shelf tumbled off into the sea even as new volcanoes belched forth their unleashed fury, scouring the sky with their blackened hell.
Leaving behind the great Rockies as a melted wasteland of slag and magma, the great plains were next to go as wide angle phasers literally set ablaze whole states into firestorms of rage and destruction.
Rivers boiled and lakes evaporated sweeping aside all manner of life before them.
The Cities of Earth...not that there was much left of them were the easiest. Defensive shields had failed long ago, and it took merely a few well placed antimatter warheads to blast them into dust.
Half of earth was dead, and the rest dying and still her fury rained down.
Tri-Cobalt warheads to poison the air.....quantum torpedoes to flatten cities, and always the scorching touch of the phasers to wipe the continents clean.
It wasn’t until the whole earth was burning that she lit the match to the air itself.... the final survivors... if any found their breath literally sucked away in a hurricane of fire as the storm of heat circled the globe in moments.
DIE DIE DIE!! she screamed in her heart even as there was nothing left to kill.
You took my DAUGHTER now DIE!
The final move in the symphony of destruction, the final play, was almost anticlimactic in its beginning.
The STAM, or Subsurface Tectonic Agitation Munition, was a simple enough device in concept, but had taken decades planning and testing to perfect. It was a compact antimatter device designed to be fired into a planetary crust from a ship in orbit, where it would penetrate to the optimum depth by virtue of its own integral phaser bore and then detonate, using the structure of the planetary crust and data gathered by its internal geo-physical scanners to reflect and magnify the force of the explosion, cracking the planetary crust open as the pressure wave travelled from layer to layer of the planet’s internal structure building and building with each reflected pass until the pressure was too great to be contained.
The current model was the seventeenth in the design series, and the first that would have been fired in combat conditions, the others having been tested on remote, dead worlds.
The actual firing went unnoticed in the blaze of combat that filled the system. A single flare of light from a single launcher on the Shiva. A single streak of light falling to the much-abused surface of the Earth. Nothing significant, nothing threatening at all.
The Shiva, her instrument of destruction delivered and even then boring into the crust of the planet, wheeled over and began to move away without a word to enemy or ally, her weapons lashing out at Dove ship after Dove ship as she cut through the stellar melee on her way to open space.
There was nothing left for her on Earth.
Nothing to be gained by staying.
The Earth had taken everything from her.
Now she would take the last, the final thing from it.
It’s very existence.
Twenty-seven minutes after launching, the STAM reached its sensor-decided optimal detonation point, a single circuit tripped, and a small star was born inside the shell of the Earth.
Thirteen minutes passed as the blast waves were reflected back and forth between the layers of the mantle and the planetary core, the pressure building with each pass until the dead world, her atmosphere still burning, shuddered under the overpressure.
The molten core of the planet erupted from the ruptures that appeared across the globe, forcing them wider, straining to vent the vast pressure that pushed ever outward.
At 09:12:28 on a Tuesday morning, the shuddering stopped… and the Earth’s crust cracked like an egg.
In a single moment the planet broke apart, the sound of its death unheard by a living soul on its surface. The centrifugal force of the planet’s rotation provided the last bit of energy needed to complete its destruction. With a silent cry of pain and fear, the world that had given birth to man shattered, the unthinkably large pieces spinning off into space like lithic seeds sent out on a breezy afternoon across the meadow of the Solar System.
Earthdeath. “Licking Wounds…” Star Captain Le’on Khatowren, Commanding Officer, USS Righteous ========== Main Bridge. Le’on’s meager task force was now reduced to four ships; the ICS Days of Thunder, the ICS Cat’s Talon, the ICS Cat’s Claw, and the newly captured USS Righteous. They were limping out of the Sol System as fast as the impulse drives would allow them; each and every ship undergoing repairs and licking their wounds as fast as feline possible. Right at the moment, they were passing the outer Neptune orbit. Wounds wasn’t all that was being licked. Le’on was perched in the oversized captain’s chair licking a paw and then grooming himself. It was one of the things he was thankful of being with others of his own kind; he didn’t have to retreat to an obscure corner or shadow in order to keep his face clean. Likewise, he was also thankful that the Hawk Fleet, for the most part, was too busy occupying themselves on and around burning terra to be worried about four ships making a break for it. If anything, they were all taking great pleasure in watching the Dove Fleet scatter like their namesakes. The Hawks that were left on this ship, however, were not sharing in their comrades’ joy. In fact, once the surviving crew of the Righteous found out that their command crew had been slashed to ribbons (literally), they all surrendered en masse. Le’on’s good fortune was not to last however. He paused in his self-grooming when he heard the tactical board behind him start beeping like crazy. “Weapons Fire sir,” one of his tactical officers sitting on the massive railing above his head called out. “It’s from the Shiva. She’s bombarding the planet.” Le’on nearly gagged. “She’s doing what!?” he asked with disbelief. “Is she mad?” “Quite possibly…” the tactical officer admitted. “Wait… Oh dear Great Catmother…” he breathed. “What?” Le’on asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer. “Uh… well… I…” the tactical officer stammered. “I better just put it up on screen sir.” He said, pointing a paw forward. Everyone on the bridge turned to watch. The Shiva continued its relentless assault onto the hapless planet. Then, by using a weapon that none of them had ever seen before, the whole planet buckled, cracked, and then splintered apart, much to the horror of everyone watching. “Oh my God…” Le’on breathed, slowly standing up. It was the Cattusian at ops who turned around first and said something. “Shouldn’t we do something sir?” “We wouldn’t get back in time in order to do anything.” Le’on said, slumping back down in the chair. “Continue on present course. Go to warp five as soon as we’re clear of the system.” “Aye sir.” The now somber ops officer said. “I’ll be in the ready room…” Le’on said, stalking off of the bridge. He went right to the replicator and ordered the stiffest drink he could find on the menu. Despite being Caitian/Cattusian, he had been born on Earth. It was his first home. And now it was gone. Torn asunder by that bitch of a woman who couldn’t take frakking no for an answer. He took a nice long drink of Vodka and kept on downing shots until he was fast asleep on the couch. When he would eventually woke up it would be with a renewed sense of vengeance. If it was one thing this cat knew; it was how to hold a grudge. He swore that he would see Von Ernst burn just like she burned earth. (takes place directly after Dream A Little Dream of Me) “You’re only as good as the people you hire” Lieutenant Commander Rafael Dávila – Fleet Intelligence ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ‘Fronks Emporium’ – Neutral Space ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “Dad. I don’t like the look of this place!” Miranda announced confidently. “From the mouth of babes...” Rafael muttered as he swung the KittyKat into alignment with a docking bay. Though to be honest, he had to agree with his daughter, again. Fronk was a Ferengi, and his ship represented the budget he had spent on her. The massive structure was an amalgam of slapped together hulls and engines that could plod along at warp three if he was lucky. Salvaged, stolen, and maybe one or two legitimately purchased parts all held together with a mixture of luck and mediocre engineering talent. “Look, this pile of gos-se has one thing we need. I’m in, I trade, I’m out.” Powering the engines down to standby he stood, “I won’t be long, keep the engines hot! Full ship security Aurora while I’m out!” He warned. Leaving the co-pilots seat at the same time Miranda looked to Aurora, “You heard him Aurora.” Staring at her Father as he turned to face her she held up a hand. “I know, don’t say it. I’m coming with you so let’s not argue or keep our ‘host’ waiting.” She added with a grimace. Muttering under his breath Rafael descended to the aft lock quickly. All the way here she’d been insistent on coming along to the meeting, despite his concerns and misgivings. “Have it your way, but I’ve warned you.” He reminded her simply as the aft cargo ramp lowered. “I know, I know.” She replied in the tone of someone who really doesn’t give a frak. Getting onboard the ‘Emporium’ was fairly easy. The trick was getting close to it. Fronk had enough weaponry attached to the various hulls to dissuade the casual passer by or lone pirate. Taking this monstrosity down would need several fairly well armed ships, and right now he wasn’t enough of a problem for anyone to devote the resources to. So, after a cursory identity check Rafael and Miranda were taken to meet Daimon Fronk. Stepping into the ‘audience chamber’, a grandiose name for the incredibly tacky room Fronk had prepared for business meetings Rafael looked around with a shudder. Covered in tasteless artwork, Latinum fixtures and seats so encrusted with precious gems as to be a health hazard to whatever tried to sit on them it was a monument to Fronks bad taste. The author of this feng-shui nightmare sat against the far wall, though there were no obvious protective measures Rafael had learnt long ago about the field neutralisers, defence screens and guards that were unobtrusively hidden. Fronk was, for a Ferengi very short, yet still managed to weigh over four times what Rafael did. His massive bulk was bloated from years of over indulgence and excesses and his ever increasing waist line flowed over the edges of his solid Latinum ‘throne’ to hang around the chair, quivering with his every breath and twitch. Clustered around Fronks throne, sat on the floor or lounging against his massive legs were a group of naked girls of a variety of species, a few of them were a little older than Miranda, most weren’t though, and each one’s face wore a vacant drugged expression. “A clothed female... How enticing.” Fronk murmured with a sly grin as Rafael and Miranda entered the room. “We obey the Ferengi law here my friend, the ‘old’ Ferengi law. Unless you would have me call the arbiters...?” Leaving the statement hanging in the air Fronk eyed Miranda lasciviously, practically drooling as his eyes ran over her figure. “Take your clothes off girl.” Rafael ordered without turning to look at her. “Wha..!” Miranda started to say just as Rafael, without looking, backhanded her to the floor with a sudden and powerful swing. Sent sprawling to the floor, Miranda spat blood as she rolled to her knees firmly intent on bringing her Father down as painfully as possible, and then collapsed again as her entire body exploded in pain when Rafael triggered the slave collar she wore. Writhing as the shock collar sent pain impulses along her entire voluntary nervous system she found herself unable to do anything except scream in agony as the pain washed over her. Ignoring Miranda with some effort Rafael watched Fronk as his daughter was tortured by her collar at his feet. The Ferengi’s eyes had lit up when Rafael had triggered the collar, and the creature was now sat forward slightly on the absurd throne his bloated body filled, watching with glee at the spectacle before him. Flicking the collar off Rafael kept his eyes on Fronk as he none to gently kicked Miranda, “I said, take your clothes off!” he ordered quietly, still not looking at her. Ignoring her Rafael kept his gaze on Fronk, promising himself he’d apologise, hell, grovel for forgiveness most likely to his daughter later, but for now he needed this slug, and the information in his dense skull. Besides, he’d warned her repeatedly about coming aboard. Seeing Fronks expression change Rafael glanced at his daughter briefly as she undressed. Like her mother she was without a doubt beautiful, and for a second Kimberly’s face and voice flashed across his mind as he returned his gaze to Fronk. “Forget it Fronk, I’m not selling her!” He warned the Ferengi. If the fat frell even asked about buying her Rafael would regret only being able to kill the Ferengi once! Looking at Rafael Fronk grinned, “I can see why. A most excellent purchase on your part, your taste has improved since you were last here.” “Coming from you, that’s a real compliment.” Rafael said, doing his best, though failing miserably, to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “You said you had the name for me Fronk,” Rafael snapped suddenly, his patience vanishing, “that’s why I made the trip to this garbage scow you call home.” Dropping the PADD he was carrying he kicked it towards one of the naked girls at Fronks feet, “as agreed, as much as I could get on the Doves and Hawks movements and forward plans. Take it, leave it, your choice, but I want that name. Now!” Though the volume of his voice never changed the tone of Rafaels voice got darker and darker as he spoke. This little runt had what he’d been looking for now for over two years, and all he could do was leer at his daughter. Snapping his fingers Fronk held out a hand, ignoring completely the girl that passed the PADD to him. Scanning the data for a moment Fronk smiled, “Most satisfactory,” he admitted after several quiet moments reading, “Very useful.” Picking up a PADD from a small table beside him Fronk casually dropped it to the floor, kicking one of the girls who retrieved it and scuttled over to Rafael. “All the data I gathered, to prove I’m not lying to you.” He said with a smile. “The name!” Rafael snapped loudly, snatching the PADD from the girl. “The USS Templar.” Fronk replied calmly. Looking at the PADD Rafael skimmed the data it contained, times, dates, coordinates, a handful of log entries and a smattering of old Starfleet records. The USS Templar! Finally! “Who was her Captain at the time?” Rafael asked after a long silence. “That my friend I could not find out.” Spreading his hands Fronk shrugged, an action that set in motion the rolls of blubber on his body, reminding Rafael briefly of a fast action reply of continental drift he’d seen at the Academy, “With the dissolution of the Federation and the Hawks and Doves going at each other it’s a miracle that I got this at all. You’d be amazed at the sheer volume of records one side or the other deleted to keep information secret.” As much as he hated to agree with the mound of fat before him Rafael found himself nodding. That was the very reason he’d contacted people like Fronk. “We’re done then.” Rafael announced flatly. Picking up Miranda’s clothing he backed to the door, “I’ll be in touch.” “A pleasure as always Nish.” Fronk said with a truly insincere smile as he switched his gaze back to Miranda, “you know how to contact me if you ever want to sell her.” ~ ~ ~ KittyKat ~ ~ ~ Sealing the cargo ramp Rafael dropped the bundle of clothing and spun to face his daughter, expecting to see her fist approaching his head at warp three he raised his arms defensively. Instead though, she was stood there calmly running a finger over the bruise that was forming on the side of her face. “That hurt!” She announced quietly. More than a little unnerved at her apparent calm Rafael lowered his arms slightly and raised an eyebrow. “I did warn you what he was like.” He pointed out. “True, hence why I came along.” At the look on his face Miranda huffed in exasperation, “Oh for the love of... Come ‘on’ Father, think! He was so busy leering at me while I undressed he didn’t even think about trying to cross you.” Sometimes, she decided, it was like talking to a child. “I noticed.” Rafael admitted grudgingly, “and if he’d drooled any longer I’d have ripped his eye balls out and fed them to the grox!” “I noticed.” Miranda parroted with a grin. “Are you telling me you didn’t even think about why I came along? Or about using me to distract him?” “Drokk girl, I didn’t want you there. Remember.” He reminded her. Bending down he retrieved her clothes and wrapped her jacked around her shoulders, then handed the remaining items over slowly. “Why not?” She asked with a trace of confusion. Putting his arms around her shoulders Rafael pulled his daughter into a tight embrace, “You’re my daughter,” he reminded her gently and unnecessarily, “and I promised you and your mother I’d look after you.” “I love you to Dad.” "The Island, Part 4"
Captain Jaal Jaxom USS Panther
& others
==The Island==
"Sean," Jaal let his emotions show now. He was angry and his face was three shades redder than usual. He didn't even bother pointing his own weapon at the redheaded captain.
He leaned over the shorter man menacingly. "You have some explaining to do," he said with an eerie calm.
He straightened up to address Captains White and Stock, "I think we can safely draw a consensus here… that these two should be taken to the brig.
Stock and White nodded in agreement. They gave Marinsic a thorough pat down and then dragged him into the turbolift.
Tupuk, Mesta, and Jaxom would drag Harris down on the next ride.
==The Brig==
The Island didn't have a brig per se, it was simply one of the airlocks on deck twelve. Of course, all the controls for the inner door had been stripped out so the captured couldn't escape back into the saucer. The outer door controls, however, were in tact, giving the captured a choice. Sure. Go ahead and escape. See how far you get.
This small compartment was where Marinsic and Harris were kept. Stock, White, Jaxom, Tupuk, and Mesta were outside the airlock discussing what should be done with them.
"I'm open to suggestions people," Jaal told his compatriots. "Sooner or later they're ships will be calling down here to find out what the hell is going on."
"Not if they've seen the latest," a new voice told them.
The quintet looked to the Islands most senior doctor. He was a gray haired gentleman who looked much older than he was. He had keen eyes, sharp reflexes, and naturally, the hands of a surgeon. His name was Stanton but everyone that knew him simply called him 'Doctor'.
"What's up doc?" it was Jaal's favorite phrase to greet the doctor, its origins lost to antiquity.
Doctor shook his head gravely. "You all need to see this to believe it."
The two captains in the makeshift brig pounded on the door demanding to know what was going to happen but their pleas fell on deaf ears for the time being.
==Main Medical Ward==
Situated on deck five of the island was the main medical ward. This was where all the surgeries, both major and minor, were performed. It also housed a small command center with an elaborate communications console.
On the viewscreen was a planet in its death throes.
"That happened over an hour ago," Doctor informed them, "Thanks to the Shiva."
"That's… Earth," Mesta whispered loud enough for all to hear.
"I'm afraid it is," Doctor answered. "Olivaw was there first hand for the fireworks. He's on his way here with casualties. Shiva managed to poke a few holes in his ship on her way out. I'm sure he'll have a more details."
Captain's White and Stock looked in horror as their homeworld tore itself apart right before their very eyes. Mesta had tears in her eyes as Jaxom put a comforting arm around her shoulder. The Trill's face had gone absolutely pale.
Tupuk remained as impassive looking as usual but everyone knew on the inside, Vulcans felt emotions like everyone else. Inside, his heart burned hotter than the desert of his homeworld. No one had the right to cause such pain and destruction… not even during a war.
"God damn!" Captain White finally found his voice. "I can't believe it! It's… it's… GONE!"
Captain Stock stood and watched the Earth break apart with a pallid expression. "This…" he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. "Confessions, Part 1"
Colonel Branwen London, commanding USS Trafalgar Ens. Rowena London (NPC written by Betred)
<USS Trafalgar -- Occurs immediately after "Counselor Duke?">
Rowena could sense Duke watching her as she walked away from his door headed for her mother's quarters. A brief flash of Duke standing naked in front of her entered her mind, which led to the indelible image of Duke and her mother getting it on. Not normally a tease, on a whim she decided to experiment. Knowing Duke's eyes were still following her, she tightened her ass and added a bit more sway to her hips, hoping she was giving him something to think about.
She also hoped the conversation with Mum would go quickly -- what she really wanted was to see Jennifer, not her mother. Jennifer's kiss had ignited something in Ro; she wasn't sure what, but it felt really good and after the interrogation of Nina, Ro wanted to feel -- wanted. What was the phrase Duke has used? "Is she the one that makes your panties wet?" Yes, Jennifer did indeed make her panties wet.
Clearing her thoughts of these images -- which was difficult -- Ro soon arrived at the captain's quarters. Wondering idly if Duke would soon be moving in here, she decided she should get in the habit now of ringing before entering. Ro pressed the call chime and waited for a response before entering.
“Come in!” Branwen called out and smiled when she saw her daughter enter. She could see straight away that the girl seemed more relaxed so apparently the talk to Duke had done her a world of good. “Morning again, Ro.”
"Hi mum." Ro kissed her mother on the cheek. Playfully, she asked, "How's tricks?"
“You are cheerful all of a sudden. We have just survived a huge battle and the destruction of my home planet. Tricks are not too good.” She said honestly.
Rowena sobered. "I know, mum. This war's been hard on all of us. But at least you met Duke -- that's something good from all of this, right?"
Bran nodded. “Yes it is and I am very glad that you approve of him, darling. I gather you don’t mind if we make our arrangements more permanent?” She stopped thinking of all the aunt and uncles that Rowena would never get to meet now.
Ro sat down in her favorite chair. "Mum, I know this may not be the right time -- but, ah -- well, when I walked in on you an Duke, you were, umm, well you know. What's that like?" she stammered.
She groaned. “I do hope that Shanna covered sexual education in your upbringing. It… it was very nice, but not to be done too lightly.” She quickly added. Once a very religious person she still had her problems with casual sex. What Duke and she were doing was … well not in her nature really.
"Muuummmm," Ro sighed. "Of course I know the mechanics. I want to know how it feels?"
“Young lady, you are a little bit too young for that.” Bran blushed. This was not a subject she felt comfortable with not talking to one of her own children.
"Well, I'm old enough to have a gi -- um, friend," retorted Ro. "If I can't ask you about this stuff, I'll..." Ro trailed off, realizing that she couldn't talk to Aunt Shanna anymore. She burst into tears.
“Oh honey.” Bran came to her feet and put her arms around her daughter. “I am still learning how to be your fulltime mum. Sex has never been the easiest thing for me to discuss. I grew up in a home were it was not discussed period. I am sure Shanna told you about our parents.” She continued. “Ask what you like, okay? For you I will try.”
Ro sniffled. "I know the subject was taboo for you growing up Mum --- but after this morning, well, I thought you would be more comfortable now, umm, discussing things. Like, how did you know you wanted Duke in that way?"
Another deep blush came up. “Uhm… well I guess it just happened and we acted on it. He feels right; Duke is kind, yet strong. He is there for me when I need him and he knows I will support him. Sooo, any reason you are asking all these questions?”
Ro ignored her mother's inquiry to ask, "Was it the same way with Man’darr?"
She sighed. “Not as fast. But for many years we loved each other very much. We survived a lot together.”
Ro, in considering her mother's responses, realized that she was not going to get the answers she needed from Bran. She didn't want to have to dig into her mom's relationship with Dar -- it would hurt them both too much, and she could get more to the point answers from Duke.
Changing the subject yet again, Rowena asked, "Have you read Lt. Adams's report on the interrogation of Commander Litterest?"
‘It’s on my desk sweetheart. But it is okay, you can talk to me about sex.” She said bravely. “I want to be a good mother to you. Are you in love?” Gods this was awkward.
The question caught Ro off guard. "Um, I don't know -- that's what I've been trying to find out. I don't know what love feels like -- not the kind that makes you want to do what you were doing with Duke."
“Honey, trust me, if you find the right person you will know. You will want to be with that person as much as possible.” She chuckled. “And do what Duke and I were doing.”
Rowena tried to change the subject again. "What did you think about the tip about Vulcan?"
“I see you are not comfortable taking about sex with your mum either. I think it is worth investigating, Ro, good job. I have asked high command to allow us to pursue it.”
Ro felt tears come to her eyes again and wondered what was making her so emotional. "Mum, it's not that I'm not comfortable; I'm just scared you won't approve."
“Honey why wouldn't I? You know I just want you to be happy.” She just hoped it wasn’t someone much older, or an enlisted man or….. Stop it! Bran chided herself.
"Mum -- I'm umm, dating another woman." There! Her secret, one of them at least, was now out in the open. Ro cringed, uncertain of her mother's reaction.
“Right.” Not too long ago Bran’s reply would not have been friendly but she as changing as well, growing. “That is nice dear.” She managed to say and smile. “Someone on the ship?”
"Well, duh! With all these com blackouts I can't very well be chatting it up on the dating sites." Ro could tell her mother wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of her seeing a woman. She resolved not to mention Jennifer.
=/\=Col. London, this is the Bridge. Message for you from the High Command, audio only, recorded. Shall I send it to your quarters?=/\=
“Yes, I can take it here.” She said giving her daughter an apologetic smile.
=/\=Message reads "Mission Approved. Proceed to target at best possible speed." Orders, ma'am?=/\=
“Good. Set speed to Vulcan.” The colonel was very satisfied they got the job. “ETA?”
=/\= Four days at best speed, ma’am.=/\=
“Very well, engage,” ordered London. Turning to her daughter, Bran asked, “Ro, I would like to meet your… girlfriend. Why don’t you bring her over soon?”
"Uhhh, I can ask her, but she may be a little intimidated by you, Mum, you being the CO and all. It's really not that serious," Ro hastened to add.
Bran raised an eyebrow. “It sounded serious, and my staff are not afraid of me. I really would love to meet her and have a little chat.”
"Mum, I got news for you -- some of your crew are terrified of you. That's why they're so uptight about having Man'darr on board. They're hoping Duke can keep you from going psycho on his ass."
She blinked and then blinked some more. “Me? But…” I am not that hard on them, and I would never kill an unarmed man. That is just not me, why would they think that?”
Ro chuckled at her mother's cluelessness, and then gave her a big hug. "Mum, you're priceless. You can be so Semper Fi one moment and so naive the next. I love you, Mum -- but I've got to go. Work."
“Naïve? It’s been a long time someone has called me naïve.” It almost made her feel nostalgic. “Come by tonight?” Bran asked. “With or without your new girlfriend.”
Ro smiled coyly. "Only if you promise I'm not going to walk in on what I walked in on this morning!"
“Maybe you should learn to knock first.” Her mum grinned, not wanting to make a promise like that. Already she missed Duke. “Aphrodisiac”
Lt. Commander Nina Litterest, A Prisoner (NPC) Capt. “Sneeky” Nokumora, USS Trafalgar (NPC) Ens. Rowena London, USS Trafalgar (NPC) -- Betred Laigas
<USS Trafalgar Brig>
Sneeky Nokumora and Rowena London observed the prisoner from the control and observation booth next to her cell. Although the bunk was still retracted, a small table and two chairs had been brought into the room since Nina Litterest’s last interrogation session.
Nina had lost all sense of time. At times, the lights in her cell would go out, leaving her in total darkness. Most of the time, they stayed on, glaring brightly. In between torture sessions, there would sometimes be music, if you could call it that. Klingon Opera, Breen Ballads, Romulan Rasta, Tellarite Tangos – who knew, it all sucked.
Litterest had endured two – no, three sessions since the young green tinged ensign and her blond bimbo tutor had initiated her torture. Nina was ashamed that she had said anything of value during the first session, and hoped she had kept her vow not to give the Doves any additional information that could harm the cause.
After Bimbo and Greenie had left, Nina had been given a meal and a short tunic to cover her nakedness. At the next session, this had been removed, and she had been strung up with the shackles and beaten by two different women in security uniforms. Nina was certain she hadn’t told them anything.
Next, a man in a white lab coat administered some chemicals that made Nina feel like her insides were rotting out. The pain had become unbearable as she strained at her restraints until she felt her arms pop. After that, she had passed out. Nina may have talked this time; she couldn’t remember.
The last session had been the worst. Four very angry men had entered her cell, screaming at her and crying and beating her with batons, and she didn’t understand what they were saying. Earth destroyed? It made no sense. The lights had “accidentally” gone out – and Nina learned what real pain and shame and humiliation was all about as the men violated her one after the other.
When the lights came on again, a small oriental man in a marine uniform was standing in her cell holding a blanket. Her rapists were not present, but she thought she heard cries of pain that were not her own coming from outside her cell before the door closed. The oriental covered her with the blanket, said he was very sorry, and left her lying on the deck. Soon after, medics came in, dressed her wounds and set up the table and chairs so she could sit and eat the food they gave her.
Watching the monitors, Sneeky and Ro observed a haggard and brutalized woman wearing a short shift and wrist shackles, her hands in her lap, head down, hair hanging in her face, rocking back and forth and crying soundlessly.
“How did it happen?” Ro asked.
Nokumora explained that when some of the crew witnessed what Shiva had done to their home world, they went berserk. Three marines were severely wounded attempting to protect Nina from the worst of their wrath. Sneeky and Sgt. Simmons from the Rapid Response Team had ended the rape by cracking skulls. Col. Duke was at this very moment dispensing justice.
“What will happen to them?” Rowena’s eyes never left the prisoner.
“Unless your mother stops him, I believe he’ll space each one personally,” replied Nokumora.
Ro glanced at the small man at her side. “He could go to prison for that!”
Nokumora shrugged his shoulders. “Which prison? Where?”
Ro nodded, bringing her gaze back to Nina sitting at the table.
“Shit.”
---------------------------
The door opened and Greenie walked in. Nina stood as quickly as she could. She reached for the clasp of her tunic and with shaking hands and fumbling fingers, began to disrobe. A voice in her mind told her that if she didn’t take it off, Greenie would rip it off her and she would not be given anything else to cover her nakedness after Greenie was done.
The sight of Nina’s naked and bruised breasts stirred something in Rowena, and if it had not been for the time she had just spent with Jennifer, Ro was certain she would not have been able to control her lust. Ro forced her urges under control.
Greenie raised her hand and shook her head. “That won’t be necessary,” Nina heard her say. “Please sit down.” Certain this was yet another trick the prisoner did as she was told, buttoning the shift to cover herself.
Ro sat across from Nina. “I apologize for what has happened. The attack on you was---an accident.”
The spark of life left in the prisoner ignited into rage. “An accident!” shouted Nina. “You call what happened to me a fucking accident? Where’s your blonde bimbo girlfriend? Would she call it a god damned accident? I bet she was the one laughing when they shoved that rod up, up---” Nina’s outburst had exhausted her before she could finish.
Rowena’s fists clenched and she forced herself to relax and open her hands, placing them on the tabletop. “The attack was an accident in that it should not have happened,” she attempted to explain.
Nina’s tear streaked face looked up at Greenie and she shook her head. “I don’t believe you. You can shove your damn apologies right up your ass!”
Ro heard the slapping sound of flesh on flesh. She stared at her hand, and then looked over at the prisoner in time to see Nina wipe a trickle of blood from the corner of her lip. Ro fought the urge to hit Nina again, to force her onto the deck, to---
What the hell is happening to me, she thought.
The prisoner chuckled at Greenie’s confusion and spat some blood-tinged saliva on the deck. “You don’t understand what’s happening do you?” Nina’s chuckle expanded into near maniacal laughter. “You want me, don’t you? Hell, you’ll fuck anything that moves in another day or so!”
Ro watched as Nina cackled on, rocking in her chair like an old woman who had lost her mind. She wasn’t sure was surprised her more – Nina’s behavior, or the fact that what she had said was correct. Rowena was barely in control of her actions and there was an ache inside her that up till now only Jennifer had satisfied.
Thoughts of Jennifer, then of Duke, then Duke and her mother rutting on the floor entered her mind and she moaned with desire.
Nina’s two-fisted blow knocked Ro out of her chair. Landing on the hard deck cleared her thoughts as she prepared to defend herself against the prisoner. When no further attack came, she jumped to her feat to find Nina slumped in her chair once again rocking back and forth. Nina tossed her head to clear her hair from her face as she looked at Rowena defiantly. “I won’t let them do to you what you’ve done to me, I’m better than that.”
Ro raised her hand to the control booth signaling that she was all right. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
“It’s the virus,” Nina laughed. “Soon, your entire crew will be fucking their brains out; they won’t be able to stop!” "Tidings of Better Times " Th'Khiss K'aa LtCmdr Janeen Jaxom U'caanu Shipyards, S'sgarnon Prime The U'caanu Shipyards were vast, larger than what Janeen remembered of Janeen strode up to K'aa holding a single PADD in one hand. Terrence walked along side glancing about taking in the lay of the "Th'Khiss K'aa," Janeen greeted the Gorn she served with on the USS Standing to his full height, K'aa was even more massive than Janeen Janeen felt her face redden a shade with the compliment. "Thank you "Your brother - he livesss asss well?" Janeen nodded, "He is... and he's also the main reason we're here. I Gingerley, K'aa picked up the padd between two talons and relexiveley An older Trill flickered on the screen, with some grey hair where The image paused in thought, as if Jaal had known how the Miranda's For a while, K'aa remained silent as he thought of his old comrade's Janeen's stance shifted slightly. "You two were an item?" Terrence spoke up at last. The Trill woman glared at the younger officer. Janeen refocused on "Hmmmm... when your brother saysss 'more to the table', he'sss "Just before we left to come here," Janeen began to explain, "Hawks She paused a moment to let that sink in. Janeen finished with, "He They hadn't found out about Earth's destruction yet. Little did they The Gorn warlord folded his thick arms behind his back and looked at "We know the main problem with defeating the Hawks is Von Ernst," "Ah... Rebecca Von Ernsst", K'aa drawled, letting the name linger on "My mossst recent projection", K'aa hissed. "Until your arrival, it From the corner of his wide vision the Gorn could see the stunned look Janeen and Terrence were in awe of the long list of equations Janeen refocused her attention on the Gorn before her, "About a half She stopped when they both noticed the tactical ensign fooling with a "Terry?" Janeen asked her companion whose face wore an expression of Terry handed the communications device to Janeen with a gaunt look on Janeen now stared at the device with a pale expression. "That For a moment, K'aa looked down at Janeen with a sad look to his eyes "Thissss changesss everything." “Switching Tracks…” Star Captain Le’on Khatowren, Commanding Officer, USS Righteous ========== Somewhere in deep space – outbound from Sector 001 Main Bridge. “Star Captain, we’re finally getting communications back from Cattus.” The communications officer called out, looking over his shoulder from the Science 2 Station at the back of the bridge. “About damn time…” Le’on muttered. He’d sent out his initial communiqué to High Command hours ago requesting permission to pursue and gun down Captain Von Ernst, but he’d initially been met with static, and then he was met with a ‘hold on while we debate’ order. He was not a patient kitty and when he wanted answers, he wanted them right then and there and not hours after the fact. “Let’s see it…” he said as he faced the main viewscreen. Prime Minister Maureen Morris’ appeared. “Greetings Star Captain, I see that you have upgraded in your choice of starship since you have left us.” “Da, the last one was cramping my style Comrade Prime Minister.” Le’on said sarcastically. “I do hope that the trade off of seven starships for this one large one will not affect my next performance review in a negative way.” Morris chuckled. “Hardly.” She said, concealing her grin with her paw. “If anything, it will improve it. I’ve read your report and the reports of the surviving officers. Your fleet has destroyed three cutters and one capital ship, captured another capital ship, and severely damaged at least one or two more; all of which put together outmassed your fleet at least five to one. That is no mere feat.” She then waved a dismissive paw. “But I did not call do discuss the Battle of Terra. I called about your other request.” “And?” Le’on asked with anticipation. “Your request is denied.” She said flatly. Morris caught Le’on’s dejected look. “This is not a time for a personal vendetta Comrade Captain. This is a time to secure the future of our species and chasing after a deranged human captain.” “Then what better way to do that then to kill the woman who just destroyed a planet out of spite!?” Le’on shouted, shooting to his feet. “By keeping our heads low, gathering allies, and then taking her out if and only if she comes our way!” Morris shouted back at him. “IF she comes our way?” Le’on retorted. “How about WHEN?” he demanded. “I’ve served under her and she can meticulously pick a whole fleet apart using a single ship like a surgeon uses a scalpel!” “Which is why we need allies, Star Captain.” Morris growled, stressing his title. “She will be dealt with and I understand the need for vengeance. After all, many brave Cattusians gave their lives today because of her petty war. You will have your chance Comrade Captain, but we need you focused for now.” She explained. Her features then softened. “Now, has contact been made with the Dove Fleet?” “Contact? Da. Actual conversation? Nyet.” Le’on said. “They know that we’re siding with them, but that is about it and that is if the USS Pegasus survives long enough to make contact with Admiral Elaithin.” Morris nodded. “You did well considering the situation. Now, we need you to be our envoy to others nearby.” She said, tapping a screen nearby and uploading a list to the Righteous’ computers. “Continue on your roundabout course away from Cattus in case any Hawk Forces may be interested in following you. The Home Fleet will be standing ready to repel any who decide to come by for a visit on less than friendly terms. I’ll let you review the list and decide who would be best to talk to first. Cattus Out.” Le’on simmered for a minute. His ears had been pinned back on his head the entire argument. He sighed and relaxed before looking at the list on the command chair’s arm. “Aw hell…” he breathed as he looked at the list. He then motioned to the communications officer. “Notify the senior officers; Commanders, Executives, and Seconds. I need them all onboard the Righteous in the conference room in an hour.” "Adrift" Commander Fuentes, chief engineer of the Dreadnought SHIVA sighed and put down the half melted lump of metal that he had been showing the Admiral. "What this 'is' Ma'am is our primary plasma retention valve...or at least it used to be. What it means is that we took a lot more damage back there than we first thought and are going to have to drop out of warp to make better repairs." "Not an option." Rebecca von Ersnt shook her head decisively. Her floor length red hair swayed around her thin frame like a scarlet cloak. "The Doves are still a day and a half ahead of us, and I'm not letting those noodleheads get away with my daughter." Sighing almost impatiently, the engineer shrugged. "Look ma'am...this isn't a matter of ought to, or should...this is a matter of we fix it now or we don't make it another half light year before the whole system freezes up." He motioned with the molten lump again. "I've seen you push these ships to their limit and beyond ma'am....I'know you can make this big girl dance like mongoose, but I don't care how smart you are, you cant run hot plasma through a big lump of slag and expect the engines to keep working." He sighed. "We drop out now for 12 or 14 hours....or we drop out later for a week to do a complete overhaul....you choice boss." Rebecca hated technical details. Give her a multidimensional probability curve based on tactical starship maneuvering parameters and she could solve it inside of a minute. Give her a 'either-or' command decision and she just got all pink-faced and flustered. Crossing her thin arms across her chest, she scrunched her freckled nose in frustration. "Its my daughter." she reiterated, as if that would make up all the difference. "Aye ma'am." Fuentes nodded, already sensing her surrender. "And we'll get her back no doubt...just give me a good 12 hours and I'll hand SHIVA back to you all set for more ass-kicking on an epic scale. but until then we're adrift." Rebecca huffed in reply. Hating the feeling of being out of control. The big Dreadnought was barely 2 parsecs out from what was left of the Sol system, but for all her dread power and sturdy construction, she now tumbled helplessly end over end, as the wound sustained in Earth orbit finally had caught up with her. The engineer had one final question. "Ma'am...I don't mean to pry, but Earth...." his voice trailed off sadly. "Why did we need to....why did you?" Rebecca's brown eyes narrowed. "Don't ask stupid questions Commander," she hissed Turning away, and allowing the engineers to begin their work, the elfin woman retreated into a nearby turbolift, allowing it to whisk her away in solitude. "Noodlehead old fart." she berated herself, wrapping her red hair around her self. "You were in too much of hurry to get to low orbit...blasting your way in like that...taking too much damage." In truth she had calculated 13 different combat scenarios for the recent encounter with the Doves over Earth...all of them victorious to one degree or another, but her foolishness had her choosing the riskiest in her rush to save Allison. ~~My little Alli.~~ she sighed, leaning wearily against the turbolift wall. ~~Why did I ever let you go? Your father wasn't worth it...~~~ The tiny officer almost smiled however. The memory of her daughters fiestyness and insistence on going back had been undeniable. Heaven help you once a von Ernst woman had made up her mind. The door hissed open at last, disgorging its passenger on the huge Flag Bridge of the SHIVA. Technicians...evidently already alerted to the decision to drop out of warp were already tearing out burned panels and rewiring them into a semblance of usefulness. Rebecca sighed. Although nearly twice the size of her old bridge, the Dreadnought always felt more crowded due to the massive numbers of crew needed to run her. She missed the Zeus and the automation which allowed a bridge crew of three to run the whole operation. That kind of technology was quite lost however, and it was only in the last five years that Rebecca had reluctantly abandoned the old Battlecruiser for her bigger mount. She sighed at the memory. Picard had put up a good fight after all, but in the end both ships had been left burning in space, the red haired captain watching the flames from the porthole of her retreating lifepod. Yes...that had been a close one. Rebecca grit her teeth. "I'm told that point is not debatable Panic. We'll pursue in due course, but for the time being we're stuck." "I see....and the Earth? Did we really have to nuke the whole place?" For long moments Rebecca studied the fleeting image of the Dove ship on the monitor ~~That my daughter!~~ she fumed. ~~They took her!~~ "We're gonna need some help." she decided at last. "Open hailing frequencies to the Mercenary Network. If we cant keep an eye on Jii...maybe we can pay someone else to do it." FEDCOM MERCENARY NETWORK NEW CONTRACT LISTING Independent Hawk Dreadnought SHIVA is offering new contract for information and or material evidence as to the current whereabouts of the United Starship Miranda. Interested parties should contact SHIVA via encrypted subspace sequence as noted below. for the following. 1. Current location, speed and course of USS Miranda. 2. Current location and/or disposition of prisoner 'Allison von Ernst' currently believed to be held against her will aboard said ship. 3. Future plans and/or possible destinations of the above names ship and/or prisoner. HIGHEST REWARD will be offered for any rescue attempt of said prisoner upon her return to SHIVA. In any and all dealings with Dove military forces. ALL OFFERS NULL AND VOID if any harm comes to above stated prisoner This Cannot be stressed highly enough. All Mercenary, Privateer, and Pirate respondents are welcome. Subspace codes and transponder beacon as follows........ "We are tomorrow's past." Lieutenant Commander Rafael Dávila - Fleet Intelligence ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Warp Shuttle KittyKat ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "Can we use this?" Still reading the message that Aurora had picked up Rafael didn't respond to "True, but there are people who trust you, ask carefully enough and it might "von Ernst?" Rafael mused, sitting back as he thought. The big bitch, "Sorry Raf, I need Miranda for that." Aurora reminded him apologetically. Turning to face aft Rafael raised his voice, "Miranda!" he hollered, "Get up "What?" came the tired reply after a moment, "can't someone get a few hours "oh three twenty," Rafael and Aurora replied in unison. "This had better be good!" She warned. ~ So like her mother! ~ Rafael thought with a touch of amusement, ~ She just "Have a read." Rafael offered, transferring the recently received message "So?" Miranda asked casually after a moment, "what d'you need me for?" "I need you to go through your mothers logs." Rafael asked, "You're the Shrugging Miranda leant forward and started typing, "What's so special about "I have no idea, but if the Doves have kidnapped her and the big bitch wants "Dad," Miranda said suddenly, "hear me out please before you say anything, Facing his daughter Rafael looked at her face for a long moment, seeing the "We've been at this for so long now, it's all we know, and it's all we 'do'. Kneeling beside her seat Rafael put his arms around her and held on for a And it was going to kill them one day he realised. Returning the embrace Miranda sighed as she closed her eyes and rested her "I wish it were that simple squirt," leaning back a little he brushed her "Damn this war!" Miranda muttered, a string of unpleasant and very impolite "Agreed." Raf said tactfully, standing he headed to the replicator. "The "Please." Turning back to her screen as it flashed for her attention "Nothing in her duty logs?" Rafael muttered curiously as he returned with "Nope, but then there are gaps, classified stuff. Ah, let's see. Something Mulling the information over Rafael sat up straight after a moment, "Aurora, "Allison von Ernst," Aurora recited, her tone and inflections becoming flat "Hold it," Rafael muttered suddenly, "Mira, what's the date for Kim's log "Twenty three eighty five?" She replied, confusion creeping into her voice. "Hold on a second squirt." He said absently, holding up a hand as he "Copy those log entries to my screen," he ordered after a moment, "and "Which one?" Aurora asked with a grin. "Both!" Rafael snapped, his confusion and excitement growing at equal Hope. "Aurora, plot positions of every Hawk and Dove ship we know of, and get a What was going on? What's the fuss about Alison? How did Kimberly know And just what had Miranda done to the replicator to make the coffee taste so "Daaaad!" Miranda complained loudly, "what are you thinking?" "Not sure yet squirt," he admitted, "kinda making this up as I go along." "Oh shit!" "Seeing June, Part 1"
(Occurs Just before and concurrently with, ‘Earthdeath’)
Captain Daren M'Kantu Commander Cutter Kara'nin Dr. Karyn Dallas Commodore Artim Shivar
*****
USS Galaxy-E Deck 1 Bridge
The Galaxy lurched as another series of phaser impacts seared into her port shielding, sending sparks flying from panels around the Bridge, and one of the Engineering staff to the floor with a gasp of pain.
"Shields at 40%," Tactical announced after the impact. "Reinforcing them now."
Daren spared a moment's glance at the young Tellarite woman, her hands blackened and smoking, but was spared taking time from the plot to order medical assistance by his XO.
"Karyn," Cutter said aloud, as he stepped towards the crewman "Injury on the bridge. Would you take care of it please." He reached down and activated her combadge, signaling sickbay that she was the injured party.
"Tactical, I think we've taken enough of that – do something about the…" Daren checked the plot and matched the two ships they were dueling with against the rest of the system-wide melee and other vessels needing assistance "… Hephaestus, please. Something permanent if possible. Helm turn us to One Nine Three Nadir and use the Hephaestus as cover from the Geloth." Where the refitted Romulan D'deridex-class Geloth had come from, he didn't know, but it was there, flying with the Hawks, the normal green glow of her engines replaced with the blue of Federation drives. "As soon as we break contact, take us back towards Earth to assist the Menelaus and her sub-fleet against the Shiva."
Another blow slammed into the Galaxy, this time to starboard, as the Geloth let fly with a plasma torpedo at medium range, just missing crushing the Akira-class ship in an impact-vise of weapons fire.
"And leave the Geloth a parting gift," Daren added mildly as the Tellarite vanished in a swirl of transport energy, headed to Sickbay. "She's trying so hard to get our attention, I hate to disappoint her.
"Daren, you should be more efficient with your weapons fire," Cutter stated as the Galaxy fled the skirmish and head towards the bigger battle near Earth. "We're beginning to run low on torped...."
M'Kantu glanced over at the avian once he noticed Cutter had stopped talking mid sentence. Cutter was staring at the main viewscreen with his mouth agape, shocked by what he saw into a mesmerized stun. When Daren looked at the viewscreen as well, he saw nothing. Lights and phasers and fire, and the South American corner of Earth gleaming in the corner of the screen - nothing unusual for a battle. He searched the tactical display, but he found nothing there, either.
"What is she doing?" Cutter mumbled under his breath.
"Who?" Daren asked. "Von Ernst?"
"Stop her! Fire forward phasers!" Cutter shouted. Behind him, the tactical officer looked confused. They were still well out of range. "No, target her weapons. Her weapons!" the avian ordered as he ran to the back of the bridge. He practically slid into position behind the tactical controls, shoving the officer there out of the way roughly with his wing.
"Cutter!" Daren yelled, trying to rouse his first officer from his trance. This was a dangerous time for Cutter to be acting out of step with what was currently happening.
But, it was too late. The Hawks chasing them took advantage of the momentary odd behavior of the Galaxy, and succeeded in the maneuver they'd tried a minute earlier, sandwiching her between to simultaneous impacts. The sledgehammer impacts of phasers and plasma torpedoes on her starboard side and phasers and photon torpedoes on her port combined to strike the ship with seemingly disproportionate strength. Cutter was thrown backwards into the wall and slid down it, and the tactical officer took her opportunity to retake her station. "Engines are down!"
Lights around the Bridge flared warnings and klaxons blared as the ship listed to zenith and slowed to a stop, dead in space.
"Brace for incoming fire," Daren warned as the Geloth and the Hephaestus swung around for another pass on the helpless Galaxy. "All remaining power to the shields. Engineering, get us power back."
The impacts this time were like thunderbolts from the gods, sending Galaxy spinning to one side and then another helplessly as her enemies pounded her mercilessly, sensing blood.
On the plot, in the flickering light of the Bridge's emergency lighting, Daren watched in disbelief, and then anger, and finally sorrow as the Shiva swept in towards Earth and began planetary bombardment. "She's mad," he whispered. "Why? What reason could she have?"
Beside him, Shiarrael moved up and laid a hand on his shoulder, steadying him as he shook with each blow delivered to the world that had given him birth. "Be strong, Father," she said softly. "Be strong, and we can survive to fight her another day and make her pay for this."
"Strong… yes," he nodded. "We need…." The ship shook again under a pass from Geloth. "Feels like thunderbolts from Allah…" he whispered. "Thunderbolts…. Yes, that's it." He smiled at his daughter and said, "Thank you," before he started to call out orders again. "M'Kantu to Main Hangar. Prep as many shuttle as you have on the deck for a pre-programmed course we're sending you now and get them into space if you have to get out and push."
=/\= Aye, sir. =/\=
"Helm," Daren turned. "Prep a programmed course for the shuttles; get them away from us just far enough to go to warp…. And then send them to our two friends outside. Expensive, as missiles go, but not as much as this ship."
=/\= Aye, Captain, =/\= the Helm responded, baring teeth in anticipation of the results.
One more pass by their opponents, then another, as more and more warning klaxons sounded with each incoming blast, and then… =/\= Shuttles away, sir. =/\=
Outside, the shuttles burst from the back of the tumbling Akira-class ship, like quartet of rats evacuating a sinking ship, and made a run for open space. One succumbed to fire from the Hephaestus, but the rest reached room for warp, entered it… and then looped back around to reveal their true purpose as weapons of death and not hopes for life.
The Geloth turned her weapons on them at the last moment, but it was much, much too late. The pair of shuttles allocated for her bore in relentlessly, striking from the same side and shattering the ship like a soap bubble, the fragments scything through space in all directions. A fragment of the port wing spun over gracefully three times before slicing into the Galaxy's dorsal side, throwing everyone off their feet in the impact and sending her power systems into final shutdown as the tremendous impact warped the ship's hull. Off their feet, and mainly unconscious, the Bridge crew failed to see the Hephaestus take her warp-driven shuttle squarely amidships, blasting the ship into two main pieces that whirled off in opposite directions into space.
Long minutes passed before the Galaxy's grew began to move again.
"Get the power back on," Daren ordered as soon as he could make a sound that didn't resemble one made by a wheezing water buffalo.. "And see about getting the plot back up – we're blind out here."
It took close to an hour to restore any semblance of power, but less than half of that to restore the sensors and get the main screen active. Helpless, drifting, the crew could do nothing but watch and weep as Rebecca von Ernst murdered the world that had given her birth in a mad rampage of destruction, and then departed like a petulant child, done with her now-broken toy.
Suddenly, a moan crept up from the back of the bridge. Cutter was awake. "We have to get out of here! Daren, we need to leave the system right now!"
Daren turned away from the screen, glad for something to deal with besides the horror at watching his homeworld die. "We will," he nodded. "As soon as the engines are back on-line. There's nothing for us here now." He limped over to his XO and offered him a hand up, Shiarrael at his side, supporting him in turn. "What happened? You seemed to lose touch again, there, before the fight went south on us."
"We were destroyed. Every-- Everything is destroyed. Earth is-- was-- Earth will be destroyed," Cutter explained, or tried to explain. Daren knew it was hard for him to figure out when he was sometimes.
"It's already been destroyed, Cutter," Daren said sadly. "She's burning now."
"No. I think she launched a STAM. It's going to explode. We need to get out of here now," he said, climbing to his feet.
"STAM?" Daren frowned. "What's a STAM? What are you talking about?"
"It's a weapon," Cutter replied. The little sign of ignorance was enough to fully clear his head, and Cutter glared at his captain as if the man had just asked in which direction things fell. "Subsurface Tectonic Agitation Munition. It's a planet killer. It's similar to what the Hydrans used on Delta IV ten years ago. In a matter of minutes, there will be nothing left in a radius of three hundred thousand kilometers but five-thousand degree molten rock. We need to get out of here right now."
"Our engines are down," Daren said, withholding the fact that Cutter was to blame for their current predicament. "There’s a fragment of the Geloth’s hull embedded in us that’s caused critical engine damage. Last estimate from Engineering is that we're not going anywhere for at least an hour." He turned to look at the burning Earth and felt, oddly, no sense of panic, no fear, just an abiding sadness. "Even if we launch the escape pods we can't get far enough away in time." Shiarrael's hand tightened on his shoulder, and he took strength from that. "Unless Allah has a miracle for us, we die with the Earth."
He would be good, he thought, as he looked at the burning ruin of the world he'd been born on, to see June again. "Reigniting the flames" Colonel Branwen London Commander Man'darr Maivia Man'darr sat on the metal slab of a bed, nude, with his wrists shackled once more. His body marked a few bruises from the earlier interrogation of him. He hoped Nina was alright...yet seeing his ex-wife still brought up old memories and feelings that he would have had preferred not to remember, when he heard someone enter and looked up to see Branwen standing at the cell door. "You are trying to get me to kill you aren't you?" She said softly. "That is what you want, isn't it?" "I don't know." The colonel said honestly. "For the longest time I thought so. But now…. There are many years between us. Why the hell did you have to kill my son, Dar?" "As I've told you before...your son challenged me. He was a fool for doing so...but a challenge is a challenge. I told him to leave but he did not and instead came at me with a weapon. I really am sorry for causing you so much pain. All you see is rage and anger, but those feelings will not bring back your son, nor will killing me. But if you think revenge will somehow make you feel better then go ahead and kill me. I will not blame you," he said, standing. "No, I will not kill you. Do you think I could look our children in the eye if I did that. This is hard enough for them as it is. I just hoped that you could make me understand. You talk of challenge but a fifteen year old, come on, Dar, you knew he would be no match for you, that it would be little more then slaughter. Did you hold our love in so little regard? Why?" "What would you do if a child came at you with a weapon, Branwen? Yes, I knew killing the child would anger and hurt you. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't regret for causing you so much pain. Would you rather had the child have killed me? You would then likely be angry at him. Either way, you're angry, Branwen. But in a way, I have lost my children as well. You have denied them any contact whatsoever to me, so to them, I might as well be dead." "It is the first time I have heard you say you are sorry." She said softly. "I would have tried to stun him." "It was during the middle of an attack, Branwen. I didn't have the luxury of time. I had a ship and crew to think about as well." He thought back to the day the Liberty was ambushed by two Intrepid Class vessels and boarded--her son being one of the boarders. But what done is done...and nothing you, I, or anyone else can bring him back." "They should not have allowed a cadet in an assault like that." She said slowly. "And I do blame the captain of the ship for it." She looked at him.
"Would you kill Rowena if you could?" "No...because I know how much you would hurt as a result. I would only kill her if she attacked and attempted to kill me." "you wouldn't even contemplate just taking her out because she means so much to me and your other kids?" "No. Do you really think that I am some heartless monster who kills everyone who stands in my way? If you think that, then you have never known the real me, Branwen." "I thought I knew the real you, the last couple of years I have been too busy hating you." She smiled wryly. "I am sorry you hate me...but you do have that right. I wish things could have been different." "Dar, I am glad to hear you say that. It does make a little bit of a difference," Bran said honestly. It had been a long time since he had been called 'Dar.' "So, what happens to me?" "I will give you over to Starfleet command, and they will judge over your actions concerning my son. Before I thought I could kill you myself, but I can't. I am not even sure anymore if I want you to die. Guess I suck at revenge after all." "No, you don't suck at revenge...though you deny it, it is obvious you still have feelings towards me. Why else can you not kill me, interrogate me yourself, and now, you've come here to see me, alone."
"Of course they don't understand!" Man'darr snapped. "How can they love someone they have not seen since they were young? How could they even try to understand my actions when they do not even know who they are! Their people. Their heritage!" "You made your choice, Dar. I told you that I would keep the kids if you left for the Hawks. Don't blame me for that." "Starfleet's choices were not the best decisions. More action needed to be taken. I do blame you. You could have supported me. How could you ever put our children into the middle of that decision, Branwen? No, it is not that...it is your so-called hatred of me that you keep them from me. Someday they will find out the truth and then they will hate you for it." "Please we had this decision a long time ago and it ended in our divorce. You are the one that left. You were part of the enemy forces, how could I let them see you? If we had just divorced it would have been easier. I don't like this any better then you do." "Enemy forces? I sided with my own people--honorable people! At least the Hawks were willing to take action while Starfleet wanted to sit back and do nothing while planets were taken. While people died! You keep making excuses so you can feel better about yourself, but the fact is, that you have kept our children from me. They do not even know me! The last they saw of me were when they were small children. I am their father whether you or anyone else like it or not!" Man'darr was furious now. "I don't know how I could ever still have feelings for someone as cold and hateful as you." "They know you." She said softly. "And until what happened with Daffydd they loved you. I made sure of that. I showed them recordings and photo's and told them truthfully that you were an honorable man doing what you thought was right. But after… it was their choice to hate you, Dar." She got to her feet. "Maybe I should leave again, this is getting us nowhere." "Yes, leave...it was always your strongest asset. If they had known the truth about what happened, understood their people, the Capellans...they would have understood me, instead of hating me." "They know. I employed a private tutor, a capellan to tell them about that side of their history. "Catherine wants to go and visit as soon as possible. She is sixteen now. Such a beautiful girl." "I'd imagine she is," Man'darr replied slowly. A part of him wanted to reach out and rip Branwen's throat out, and the other part wanted to hold her close because that part still loved her. "So, am I to stay nude this entire time?" he asked. "You know I hate doctors," Man'darr snapped. "You appear confused....first you say that you don't care what happens to me, now you want to make sure I am ok by sending me a doctor." "I have made up my mind that I am not going to play judge, jury and executioner. So I will make sure you are in good shape when we hand you over to a prison. That is all, nothing personal." "That is your excuse," he said simply. "If there is nothing more, then you should go." "Yeah." She said strangely reluctant to go. "I will continue to check on you, Dar." Man'darr had begun feeling a bit strange and felt a sensation he had not had in a while as he looked at Branwen. He reached out, with both shackled hands, grabbing her wrist and pulled her back and against him. Looking down, he kissed her deeply. She gasped as he grabbed her. Her first instict was to pull away but something made her stay. It felt familiar to be back in his arms. As if she belonged there. Bran could not help herself and kissed him back. Man'darr could not help to feel warm and wanting Branwen more and more. Despite being shackled, he ripped Branwen's uniform shirt off. "If its so wrong...why are you still here?" he asked between kisses, as his hands moved to massage her bare breasts. "And why refer back to the nickname you gave me so long ago?" "Because I crave you." She whispered. "I have missed our love making. And you? Have you missed me?" Despite his love for Nina, he nodded. "Yes, I have." "I don't understand. I love another now and yet… your body." She ran her fingers over his chest. "I have missed you, I want you."
"Then I am yours," he simply answered. She loosened the manacles so he could have better access to her body. Her clothes went flying everywhere. Man'darr's hands explored Branwen's familiar body, her curves instantly recognizable as he grabbed her rear and lifted her off the deck with her legs wrapping around his body. "Oh yes baby!" She screamed. Much more enthusiastic then she had ever been in the past. "Take me, warrior. Show me how a real man makes love." Man'darr pressed her up against the bulkhead roughly as he kissed her passionately on the lips and neck, while entering her hard.. She only moved to give him better access and raked her fingernails over his back. "I love you." The colonel whispered all the while. The colonel came violently, putting her nails in his back deeper then ever and screaming in his ear. Back when they were married their lovemaking was always sedate, this was a completely different woman it seemed. Man'darr came with one final hard thrust as the two collapsed to the deck, breathing heavily. "I don't know...except that you admitted that you loved me." "I...do not know...I am with another...but...I am having feelings for you as well." "She is similar to you...I hope she is safe and well. She is a prisoner aboard this ship...like I am. She was the Chief Intelligence Officer aboard the Liberty." "I see," he said simply, as he watched Branwen stand. "You might want to be transported to your quarters, unless you normally walk about your ship nude." "Oh shit… they got ripped to pieces." She blushed now and held the shreds of her clothes in front of her breasts. "This is London, beam me to my quarters." She ordered. "Facing the Hound" (Occurs the morning following 'Creation') Victor Krieghoff Angelienia Krieghoff Elrin "Fox" Kit'ari **** Xellos IV Idrani City Krieghoff Residence
'May Alanna watch over me in the presence of the emissary of the Hound.'
To most it would seem somewhat crazy but Elrin always felt the need to mouth the same silent prayer he had been intoning for years whenever he went to see Vic. Then again, many people were superstitious when it came to him and it was said some mothers still used his image to scare children into behaving. Even though Elrin knew better, deep down he still felt the need to invoke the protection of the Mother Goddess. He might not be an emissary of the Black Hound but being around Vic was nonetheless unnerving. Lifting his head after completing his intonation Elrin pressed the entry chime and waited for an answer.
Rather than an electronic response, the door opened to reveal Angelienia Krieghoff dressed in a casual tunic and skirt, smiling at him, her skin grayish and her posture stiff, the picture of a walking dead woman greeting a guest for dinner from some old holo. "Elrin… come… in," she opened the door wider as she greeted him, each word pronounced distinctly and separately, as thought they required all her concentration to utter. "Victor's… out… on… the… terrace… taking… a… break… from… things,… but… he's… expecting… you."
"We could all use a break from things from time to time. Its good that he's unwinding a bit for a change.", Elrin responded as he stepped into the residence. His uniform was neatly pressed and clean as Mother M would have it no other way. Even his cap was on straight
Closing the door behind them, she led him through the house, her gait stiff and mechanical, more a shuffling shamble than anything. "There's… coffee… out there,… and some of… that Romulan tea… he likes so much," she explained, the words slowly losing their separation and starting to flow together normally as they moved through the house. With each step her skin color shifted like a color-changing lizard's, starting to approach its normal healthy tan. "Will one of those do… or would you like… something else?"
"Just some water please thanks. Coffee makes my fur stand on end. Oh, before I forget..." Elrin reached into his jacket and pulled out a small metal box, "Mother M is trying out a new cookie recipe and she says she needs a female opinion that doesn't come from a reptile. I think they're good but...well...you know her." "I do," the Ktarian woman nodded, taking the last step needed to make her again the woman that Elrin remembered from years before. "I'd love to try them." She took the box and made a shooing motion. "Go on and head out here, I'll get these on a tray and bring them out in a few minutes."
Elrin recognized the motion and simply nodded and turned to head out to the terrace. Truth be told he was more nervous around Angelina then Vic but he never let it show in the slightest. As he walked through the house he took a series of deep breaths in order to calm himself. It always seemed to help him be near Vic with only minimal consequences.
The terrace was cut and shaped out of the living rock of the granite cliffs that Victor had carved his residence from, and wrapped around two sides of the Krieghoff home. From here, one could look down on Idrani City from the west from a height of fifty meters, and past that to the rolling land that made its way down to the ocean bay to the south. The furnishings were, like the rest of the residence that Elrin had seen, minimalist but comfortable; a number of chairs and lounging chairs – including several designed for guests with tails, extra legs, and odder arrangements - two tables and a recessed pool with a multi-colored green tile mosaic lining that could hold as many as seven or eight in its heated waters.
Victor was seated in one of the chairs by the larger table, his bare feet in the seat of another, dressed as casually as Angelienia had been in a loose shirt, brocade vest, and back pants. A pair of boots, one toppled over on its side, sat next to the chair he was using as a footstool. He was drinking what Elrin's nose told him as the Romulan tea Angelienia had mentioned from the same mug that he always used, the Starfleet Marine insignia faded but recognizable. A tray with two thermal carafes and several other mugs was sitting beside him, and a discarded padd lay just past the tray, the light signaling unread messages flashing.
Spotting Victor, Elrin said, "Afternoon boss. Mom said you wanted to see me?"
Victor stood, setting his mug down and extended a hand. "Afternoon, yourself – or are you still on ship time? It could be 3 AM in that case."
"Helps to be evolved from a nocturnal creature sometimes, we adjust quickly." Elrin replied
"Good," Victor nodded back. "Have a seat," he waved to one of the chairs designed with one open side to the back so that tailed guests would find them more comfortable. "And tell me how things went – I'm under orders to not read any more reports this afternoon."
As he took a seat Elrin smiled a bit, "Went pretty well. Managed to get a nice full hold's worth of spare parts. Mother's still taking an inventory but at first glance it appeared to be a pretty good haul. Birds got shot up a little bit but the 225th is probably still reeling. Oh, and Slippy almost ate another male. All in all, a rather normal trip."
"She needs to cut back on that," Victor advised. "Knocking them around a bit is one thing, but the eating part is going to be too memorable… and being remembered is a bad thing given our line of work." He picked back up his tea and took a sip. "There was a battle while you were in warp – a big one. I don't have the details, I'm not sure where it was exactly, but judging from the number of fatalities there were more ships there than any battle I've felt in a decade." He frowned. "And someone did something… bad."
Even under his cap one could tell Elrin's ears popped straight up like soldiers jumping to attention "Really? Our long range sensors didn't see anything. And what sort of 'bad' are you talking about?"
"Someone destroyed a planet," Victor replied, his eyes momentarily on a different, distant horizon. "I don't know how or why, but… that's what it felt like, anyway."
"WHAT? How....how could you tell." Elrin seemed floored. Elrin knew Vic could feel death somehow. He'd somehow felt that Elrin was dying years ago...but this was different.
"Because I've destroyed one," Victor admitted quietly. "It was the day I was Created, the day I woke up and started to understand what I was. Jhorjah wasn't a big planet, it wasn't a major world… but it was a planet, and I killed it and everyone living on it. I've never forgotten the feeling of seeing it buckle and burst apart like a melon in a vacuum chamber… and I felt that again, after the battle."
"I see," was all Elrin could say. He'd made it a point not to pry into his employer's past because it seemed wiser to not know about it. Vic seemed to have more dark secrets then the entire clergy of the Hound put together and having them stay secret was probably in everyone's best interests.
"So, how are we going to proceed?"
"I don't know," Victor conceded. "Everyone seems to be blacking out the whole incident, which just reinforces the idea that something monstrous happened. I'm going to be making a call in a while to Bran London to see if she'll tell me what happened. If that doesn't work, then we hope our friend on the Miranda has something to say. If neither of them will tell me then we'll have to do it the hard way with sigint." He sighed and sipped at his tea again. "If it was an isolated incident committed by a rogue commander, that's one thing – we find out who did it and make an example of them. But if they've started destroying planets as a way to deny them to the other side – no matter which side that is – then things are so far out of control that I don't know what we'll do."
"I concur." Elrin answered after a deep breath, "Too many worlds have been devastated by this conflict. We'll keep our ears open and I'll have Falco go through our long range sensor data again. Doubt we picked anything up but you never know. So we gonna get some time at home, or do you have something to send us out on right away?"
"The latter, I'm afraid," Victor apologized. "We've gotten word of something happening on Skaintar VI that we're going to have go and step on – that piece of crap Dakano is back in business again, dealing weapons to Hawk-backed insurgent groups this time."
"That slaver piece of furry dirt? He survived the inferno we left his compound in?" Elrin asked clearly disgusted
"That's right – and this time we're shutting him down for good," Victor nodded. "Plus, there's always the chance that he's got some gear we can use." He set the tea down. "To make things like this a bit easier, I've gotten us a new base ship for us to use on missions where we're not wanting to be seen coming and going."
"Oh, when is she arriving?", Elrin asked, the prospect of a new ship clearly got him excited
"She's in orbit now," Victor nodded.
"Huh? I didn't see any new ships in orbit...unless I missed something."Elrin was very curious now. What had Vic whipped up for them this time
"Yes you did," Victor smiled. "You just didn't know it. She was that asteroid you passed by at Reference Point 7764."
"An...an asteroid? That's novel at the least. Why an asteroid and not some cloaking device? I'm sure your friends could get you one", Elrin cocked an eye at the notion. Not that it was a bad idea. It was just...different.
"Ease of maintenance in part; cloaking devices are hard to maintain these days," he explained. "Plus everyone is always scanning for them just in case someone's parked a starship in their backyard. So I did some thinking and went back to the old smuggler dodge of passive detection defense. The mineral composition of the asteroid diffuses scans, and with some baffles in place, she reads like just another rock in space… unless she's going warp speed, of course. We found the asteroid, towed it out of the belt she was born in, and then I contracted with the folks at Centrix to do the work. We smuggled it in as part of a big train of asteroids in a mineral resources shipment, and snuck her out under her own power as part of the oort belt in the system. She's got enough space for all your ships, an assault shuttle, and plenty of supplies and cargo, plus all the comforts of home: individual staterooms, a lounge, exercise facilities… and a full set of sensors, commo gear, engines, shields, and phaser banks scavenged off an Intrepid-Class that the Hawks lost a year or so back in the Briar Patch. We traded the rest of the ship, the raw materials, and some computer core copies, to the folks at Centrix for the work."
"Sounds nice. Slippy will be happy to know she doesn't have room with Falco anymore. I'll be happy to not have to hear about it every morning.", Elrin chuckled a little bit. "Well anyway we'll start getting things moving over to the new...rock. I assume you have a plan for getting us into wherever this scum is hiding out these days."
Victor nodded. "Yes. The Skaintar system has a lot of asteroids running through it – too many to keep track of regularly. They just scan for drive signatures, shields, and hull-metal concentrations for the most part. If we come in during one of the merchant caravans, when there are warp signatures all over the place, and then shut things down and coast in, we can get within distance for your ships and the shuttle before they know we're there." He smiled. "If we do it right, they may never even know how we managed it."
"Sounds good. We'll get the bastard for good this time." Though it seemed like there was nothing left to talk about it was abundantly clear there was something was still on his mind and it had nothing to do with moving to a hollowed out rock.
Victor leaned back and studied the pilot for a moment. "Something's on your mind," he observed after a moment. "You've got that 'serious thought wrinkle' on the top of your muzzle. Want to talk about it, or is this one of those things you need to work out yourself?"
Elrin closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "This isn't one I can work out myself. I've tried and the answer just hasn't come to me. Why am I still here? Why was I pulled from the jaws of the Hound...why didn't I die at the battle over Altair five years ago. Why...why did you save me? There were hundreds, thousands you could have pulled out...why me?" "Why… you?" Victor considered that. "There was more than one reason," he began slowly. "The first one that comes to mind is that you were mine, given to me by Starfleet years before, while I was aboard the Galaxy in your case. I carry all of you here," he touched the side of his head, "and I know when you are at the doorway. For each of you, I choose to let you stay or let it open and allow you to move on. I…" he paused and then continued, "…I felt you there, as I passed through the system. I knew you because you were one of mine… And I denied you permission to move on, because you were not one of the ones that has lost sight of the right path. You fight, you're a warrior… but you're not a killer, not making war for its own sake." He smiled sadly, meeting Elrin's eyes. "I should apologize for that, I suppose."
Elrin had to take all of it in for a moment before he could say anything. He turned his head away from Victor for a moment and looked out over the city. It was a sight his eyes never should have laid eyes on. He was seeing it. He was here and should make the best of it. The Hound would return for him in time. After a deep breath Elrin turned back meeting Victor's gaze again, "You're forgiven. I don't think I ever thanked you properly for it anyway. So...thanks."
Victor nodded. "You're welcome. It was selfish of me, I know, but…" He smiled sadly "…I'm selfish. Fact of life… and Death. Someday, I hope, it won't be necessary for me to choose any more, to decide that this man lives and that one doesn't… but right now it is. I save the good ones, and let the bad ones move on, fighting the war that way when I'm not fighting it another." He looked up at the sky for a moment, and then returned his gaze to Elrin. "And I liked you. We weren't friends, not in the sense that we spent time together drinking and whatnot… you were… alive… in a way that I'd always wanted to be, and I liked you. I don't have so many people that I can say that about that I wanted to lose one."
"It's a terrible burden to bear Vic but so far you've done a good job bearing it so far." Was all Elrin could say at the moment. His question was more or less answered and while he still had something to think about his mind was at ease. "And its good to know that I might still have friends I don't know about. Anyway, I'll get the crew moving things over from the Hawk. Though Mother will kill me for saying this we should be able to get everything transfered in 24 hours, 36 at most. Then we will be ready to get going after that bastard."
"Let's make it closer to 24, shall we?" Victor agreed. "I think that things are going to be heating up quickly now, and I don't want us left on the sidelines."
"All finished?" Angelienia interrupted brightly, sweeping out onto the terrace, a tray in hand. "Elrin's brought us some new cookies, and I know you're going to like them." She smiled warmly as she set the tray of carefully-arranged cookies down on the table and slipped into Victor's lap. "You'll stay for one, won't you, Elrin?" "Passages" Cmdr. Arel Smith **** She sits besides her father's corpse. "It is harsh in the world." Her father comments. The sound is rough, "Norse," Arel says immediately. "Völuspá" His eyes are blind, a white-blue film that shines like glass, but they She has to think for a moment. "Christian. Revelation." He scowls. "And the land shall be poisoned by a great evil. The poison "Bajoran. Talnot" "Gorram it, 'Rel," Allen explodes, sending snow and ice flying in his She dusts off some of the snow that has landed on her sleeve. "The "Then frelling do something about it," He snarls. "Listen to the voice "Klingon. Proverbs." He swears loudly, his breath heating the air, and runs an ice crusted "Even the best blade will rust and dull unless it is cared for," Allen Arel considers telling him the answer to that but looks instead at the He sighs. "Korvin's not coming back, 'Rel. He's with our fathers in StoVoKor." "No," Arel disagrees. "He's dead." **** She walks down a street. "I hate it here," Allen grumbles. He limps besides her, the nerves The streets are empty but they both see the bodies of dead and dying "To die like this," He starts before anger makes his teeth clamp "Intolerable," Arel finishes for him. She looks around and knows that "No metal will harm him, no wood will wound him," She whispers. "I've Allen frowns at her. "I don't know if the Death of Balder quite fits. "It was foolish of me to believe he'd be safe here. There is no safe." "No," He agrees. "But there is vengeance." She shakes her head. "I've killed enough of the enemy to line the "Duty," Allen says with a heavy scowl. "means nothing if you live like "There is no such quote." "Klingon. Allen of Ralok." "You're funny," She says. **** She watches the stars pass by. "You shouldn't have set Spengler free," Allen argues from her couch. She says nothing and her father looks incredulous. "You set him free Arel knows she does not have whims. She has orders and schedules and He changes his mind and tells her that releasing Spengler might be "I never thought otherwise." Allen snorts. "Jii and Jordan are going to be pissed." "They'll either say yes or they'll say no." "For one who is indifferent, life itself is a prison." "It keeps me around another day," Arel says but doesn't disagree. Allen looks sad. "Of all the things I wish, I hope you find yourself again." She simply nods. "Until we meet again." Her father sighs. "You need to find something else to hope for." **** She wakes reluctantly. The small conference room isn't warm but at least here Arel doesn't Arel wonders if he would kill her if she said that. She sighs. She rather doubts it. When the Captain of the chonnaQ comes to inform her about Earth, Arel "The nine worlds will burn and the gods will die," She quotes to his "It sounds like an ominous tale,' The Captain growls. "There's a happy ending," Arel replies. "But I can't remember how it goes." “Cheyenne” Cheyenne, Mercenary for Hire HAL 9000, Interceptor’s Computer AI Nobody can explain it… some say she's still alive… -“The Beaches of Cheyenne” by Garth Brooks ========== Delta Flyer “Interceptor”, Deep Space just outside of Sector 001 Cheyenne was relaxing in her pilot’s chair with her feet kicked up, smoking a cigar when her communications panel began to beep for attention. She gave it a cursory look before hitting it once with her fist. At once, the broad band communications came up on her holographic HUD before her. Her eyebrow arched with interest as she read the bulletin on the FMN. “Shiva’s putting out more work huh? Well it’s about damn time.” She muttered as she pulled up the details for the job. Cheyenne chuckled as she looked it over. “Oh man, looks like they’re finally coming to blows.” She said with glee. The Hawks and the Doves going at it meant lots of work for her. She was glad. This lull in the hostilities was downright dull and this contract offer was just the thing she needed. Hell, maybe with this payday would be just the score she needed to get her wreck of a ship fully operational once again. “Hal,” she said, addressing her computer. “Start a trace on the Miranda and open up a comm. channel to the Shiva.” She said, tossing the cigar aside and getting to work. When the computer didn’t answer, she looked up at the ceiling. “Hal?” she asked again before looking off to her left where his electronic red eye was mounted by the secondary station. “HAL!” she grabbed a nearby PADD and hurled it towards the eye. “WAKE UP YOU GORRAM PIECE OF SHIT!” “I’m sorry Cheyenne…” Hal replied, his eye now glowing a bright red, indicating that he was now out of sleep mode and fully functioning. “You did specify that you wanted privacy and I know how you humans are about your privacy…” “Ah can it… I shoulda left your sorry ass back on the Bainbridge…” she muttered under her breath. She’d salvaged the AI computer from what was left of her father’s ship, the USS Bainbridge. It was one of the few things left working and HAL somewhat was the only survivor of the ship. She’d turned her back on Starfleet and the Federation shortly after she’d found her parent’s lifeless bodies on the bridge, both casualties of this godforsaken civil war. The only thing that connected her now to her old life was the Bainbridge’s only Delta Flyer and her ship’s AI. Well, that and her little package in the back that made the name ‘Cheyenne’ feared throughout two quadrants. But she didn’t let the losses of war keep her down. After all, she was her father’s daughter and her parents did die in honorable combat. After observing both Klingon and Terran death rights, she turned in her resignation to Starfleet, faked her death, and turned to a life of freelancing; changing her name to that of the city she grew up in back on that worthless mud ball called earth. Her old life was long dead to her and now it was just a thrilling life of freelancing now. Bounty Hunter, Piracy, Mercenary, Freelancer, Privateer, Assassin; she wore all these titles and more. She’d even built up a nice rep over the past decade. No job too small and no pay too big. People asked and she delivered... Always... Soon she was in high demand and she had to change her ways just enough to bring in only the very best of contracts; ones that guaranteed payment. Now she was notoriously famous throughout the old Alpha and Beta quadrants. People tended to go into hiding once they found out that Cheyenne had been contracted out. Cheyenne knew Shiva well. She had done a number of assassination jobs on key Dove personnel for her in the past. Shiva always paid up and it was always fun jobs. “Independent Dreadnought Shiva, this is the Interceptor.” She said, keying in the proper identification and transponder codes that the bulletin had provided. “I got your message and think that I’ll be able to help you out here darling…” she purred. “You know where to meet at then. We’ll see you there.” The curt response from the Shiva came back. She expected as much. Short, sweet, and right to the point. Just how she liked it. She looked over the data that was starting to stream in over her various monitors as HAL dutifully went about his task. This job would definitely be the big one. Elaithin Jii was no pushover. He’d been kicking ass and taking names long before dirt was created. She’d done jobs for him in the past before and actually started her servitude in Starfleet as a cadet under his command, albeit briefly before her father arranged for her to be transferred under his command. Cheyenne reached over and took another long pull off of her cigar before extinguishing it. She put the Interceptor under HAL’s control so that he could take the ship to meet with the Shiva and left the pilot compartment. She went aft to check her equipment. If there would be a face-to-face meeting/briefing, there would be others there and she wanted to convey the proper sense of dread into others. In the aft compartment stood her pride and joy that was being test driven on the USS Bainbridge shortly before its destruction; The Templar Battlearmor. It stood an impressive three meters in height and had a single weapon at its disposal; an HK-920 Dual-barreled Assault Cannon. It was one of the crowning achievements of Federation Weapons Technology before the decline in science and technology due to war. The cannon was a hybrid of the Type III Pulse Phaser Rifle and the TR-116 Sniper Rifle and was to be the answer to the Marine’s problems of engaging T’Kith’Kin and Hydrans in ground engagements. Unfortunately, nearly all that were fielded after the initial test run have been destroyed. The Templar Battlearmor was never replaced. Whatever scraps that had been left on battlefields had been salvaged and the technology saved went on to make the bigger and badder Dragoons. To Cheyenne’s knowledge, this was probably the only functioning suit of Templar Battlearmor that was still in existence. She’d certainly never heard of anyone else using one, and if she did, she’d personally hunt the bastard down in order to raid them for parts. She began her meticulous checklist by grabbing the PADD that hung on the wall next to the Templar and checking things off as she looked them over. It was a small ritual that has ensured her and the suit’s survival over the years. The armor by no means made her invincible or indestructible. Far from it in fact; she’s had to replace the shield generators and ablative armoring on this thing more times than she cared to remember. Cheyenne had the tendency to get into some pretty intense firefights in order to complete her contracts. That’s probably why she’s regarded as one of the best. Cheyenne brushed a lock of her blonde hair out of her face as she finished up. This contract would certainly prove once and for all that she was indeed the best. She would either succeed and have her name immortalized forever, or she would die a glorious death in battle and meet her parents in Sto-vo-kor. A win either way as far as she was concerned… "Heaven Isn't on Our Side" *****
This was the last look he would have of his beloved Starfleet, days after his greatest victory. He would not be leaving the ship as a hero, but of a disgraced officer heaping his last unforgivable offense on his superior officer's shoulders. He had no regrets, but a sad longing to sit in his captain's chair and never leave. He settled for a final look at the people who served him, loyal Andorians whom regarded their human leader with a mix of reverence and a lingering sadness of his impending absence. The ship would miss him. Hell, the whole fleet would miss him. With the Federation crashing down on them, this captain was the last of an old guard that held the traditions of mercy and wraith in equal measure, whom held the weight of their decisions like Atlas, trying to preserve a universe and plumb into its depths for new mysteries. Only he didn't remember the last exploration Starfleet ever did. All he had known was war, war for decades, and war no longer. This was James Lionel Corgan, old but for greying light hair that showed a minimal widow's peak, martial for his standard red command uniform and embellished grey officer's trenchcoat, phaser sidearm, and sword, like the classic generals of old Earth's time. He was missing his communicator badge, the one sign to tell him from an officer to an ex-officer. He surveyed the last of a Spartan living quarters, bare but for some necessities, a decanter filled with turquoise blue fluid and one drinking glass, a rack to hold his pistol and his officer's sword, a single electric guitar he used to define himself beyond the battlefield, and an LCARS computer console to which he sat next to and recorded his last thoughts before departure. ***** This recording is to get some matters of the heart off my chest, to make sense or at least sort out all that's gone through my mind as of late. I may not get another chance after this. We've taken Vedek's landing but I went against Starfleet orders and have now killed my career. Before they drag me in chains to Admirals Brhode and Janeway, I feel like I owe it to the people I love and hurt at the same time just what exactly is going through my head. God knows I have a lot. Splintered, wailing, trying to make sense of so much, like putting together a broken glass mirror. But I'll try. It hasn't seemed that long ago, when I picked up my first phaser and froze in front of my first enemy, and I've been overcompensating ever since. I don't worry about the people I've killed or sent to die on my behalf anymore... that is between me and whoever meets me at St. Peter's gate. But what I worry about is this. Is there such thing as a moral choice where I don't bring harm to myself or anyone else? That is the theme of my life. All the 'good' I had to do in my life came at a high, exacting cost. To grow a set of balls, I had to sacrifice my empathy and shut out the pain of others. To save others I had to put myself at risk many times. To defend my beloved Federation I had to destroy my marriage to Rebecca Von Ernst and kill any chance of being a good father to both my daughters. Whenever I took pleasure for myself, such as the case was with Atole, Mikaiu or my beloved T'lan, someone else had to be screwed over for my selfishness. When I do have guiltless happiness I find myself sabotaging it. For what? I do not know anymore. All I know is a galaxy burns, a populace screams in anguish, and all I can do is rush to the next disaster and try to fix it. And here I am today. First human commander of the Andorian Blue Fleet, hero of the Federation, survivor of multiple decades of violence outside and in. The survivor, the war veteran, the hero, and the most hated Commodore in the fleet, the man who could not do right by his superiors but could not be ousted because he was irreplaceable. I became Starfleet's unofficial 'firefighter'. I saved the fleet from total destruction at The Battle of the Heavenly Gates at the cost of face in front of the enemy, showing our foes that we were a spent force. I racked lots of kills in The Dominion War and survived the suicide battalions. I snipered a goddamn Borg Queen. I fought the Borg fleet at a both Battles of the Typhon Expanse. I invented the freakin' Corgan Gambit for fuck sakes! I even prevented Starfleet from getting a hold of a bloody time machine before they could perma-fuck space and time forever! And my last accomplishment is that I was one of the very few, maybe even the only, Fleet Commander to fight Protocol 34 openly... it's a doctrine that allowed the use of weapons of mass destruction and mass annihilation tactics on the enemy. It's in its infancy, but I can sense what this kind of doctrine will bring. I can understand why it was so tempting. Hundreds of years of Federation superscience created, or at least heard of, thousands of ways to kill billions of people with the push of a button. It got worse when Voyager came back, the biggest and most important journey since Marco freakin' Polo and hundreds of times more dangerous to the galaxy... and all just in time to see the Federation surrounded by enemies, isolated by allies and so damn close to death that we'd be nuts not to open up our entire inventory of whup ass. I can understand. The Federation, Starfleet... they made the decision. For preservation they would pull out all the stops. But that's when I had to make the first moral stand that ever mattered to me. I was taught when I was young that the Federation was founded on principles of justice and fair dealings between its members and their populace, of peace, good will and brotherhood with its neighbors, of uninhibited fulfillment of want and happiness, and the never ending search for truth and knowledge. Then why did they want to sacrifice it all for an hour's preservation on the last days of empire? Did they not know to use Protocol 34 was to make a slippery slope inevitable? And what happened when the REAL weapons of mass destruction were released? What then? So, in Vedek's Landing they forced me to make the decision, told us that Protocol 34 was in effect. I would take planet cracker grade tri-cobalt devices and scour the place clean, and that I would be prosecuted if I did not enact it, and that I would be disgraced if I let the Hydrans win. I was put in an impossible situation, but never was my choice more clear cut. On top of that I STILL managed to halt Triad forces and help bring a cease fire into effect... without using Protocol 34... more or less... and scorch earthing their motherfucking asses. And the thanks I get? The Triad most certainly still hates me, and half of Starfleet wants to grill me, the other half wants to forget I existed. Some thanks. Because if I did what they asked I would be a hypocrite. They know it, that's why they put me here. I made my choice. I made a moral conviction and have stood by it for once, and it cost me everything. Can't regret it though. What I regret is how close I came to giving them what they wanted. ***** Pouring a glass of Romulan ale, Commodore Corgan swished the bright turquoise liquid in its crystal glass, savouring the aroma, allowing his idle mind to slip into recalling the tumultuous past. ***** "On screen." Corgan calmly commanded the computer, in contrary to the tense and frightened mood of his bridge staff in the face of the insanely obvious. The computer screen showed a visual representation of what the tactical officer was already reading out from his sensor scans. "Two... five... sixteen... twenty four... thirty eight in total SIR!" The Andorian officer at the tactical console read off his three dimensional strategic display with increasing alarm, illustrating strongly what Corgan could see from the viewscreen. "Fucking suicide..." Corgan grumbled to himself. He had a task force of twelve Andorian Blue Fleet Starfleet ships, an elite formation, but against thirty eight vessels of the Hydran Royal Guard, at over three to one odds and his tactical reserves engaged in ship to ship combat in other sectors, even James found it difficult to find a route to victory. That was exactly the point. The Hydran's base at Vedek's Landing was a springboard to the Federation coreworlds, and James was given explicit instructions to stop an advance that would be launching from that exact world in under twelve hours, or else it was Federation worlds and civilians that were going to die. And they didn't want to use Protocol 34 on Starfleet territory... yet. In the USS Kinjal's torpedo tube launchers were rocks. Big, multi megaton rocks. More than the Hydrans could match. And he was the one that agreed to do this. ~"Yeah, I'm a fucking idiot."~ He thought, but when could he refuse when there were billions of Federation lives between him and the hostile races that surrounded them? Not often. ~"I wish T'lan were here. She could cut through the crap for me. Even Commander Brekir..."~ James thought wistfully of the Andorian prince who served as the Kindjal's second officer. ~"If he wasn't back in the Andorian courts... I could use some help right now."~ But all he saw were Hydran vessels closing in on his small fleet like an engulfing amoeba, ~"Nope... on my own. I'll just have to trick my way through it. So be it."~ His Operations officer cut through the silence. "SIR! The Hydran flagship is hailing us." "On screen." Corgan commanded. The ugly face of the Hydran commander dominated his viewscreen, a sleek, armoured reptilian, double headed creature as festooned with military iconography as James was in his military honours. He spoke with a snarling impudence, confident in his stronger bargaining position. "You..." The Hydran drawled out his sentences, "...are outnumbered. You are foolish to stumble into the middle of our vanguard. If you were hoping to make a final sacrifice for your Federation you are seriously misguided. Surrender or die." ~"Make a choice, Broken Head."~ James raised his index finger, "One moment please. I have another call coming in." He said, addressing his ops officer with a slashing motion at his neck "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE....*blip*" ~"Jesus! I can't do it!"~ James fretted, the facade of his complete control breaking, on the verge of panic, ~"If I try to win this battle I'll have to use the WMDs. If I do it conventionally I'll frellin' well die, and I can't go back to Starfleet unless I do one or the other. Jesus fucking Christ!"~ Calmly, James sat in the captain's chair. Flipping on his chair's command console, he activated the unlock commands for the Protocol 34 weapons. He selected the trilithium missile. It was equipped with a phase cloak so it could covertly reach its target. It was best for destroying the entire star system, and any ships that did make it out would scatter and take hours to reconstitute, leaving a huge gap in the Hydran front. "Sir! The Hydrans are hailing again. It's urgent." Called his ops officer. James' console showed a bright red "Protocol 34" sign. One palm press on the console and he would unlock the weapons. He grumbled, "How many life forms on that planet. All of them." "Sir?" "Now Ensign!" "Scanning." The Ops officer's fingers danced on the console, "There are one hundred thousand sentient lifeforms sir, mostly Hydran. It's hard to make out though. There's a large number of other lifeforms. It looks like mostly animals, sir. Their density and proximity to settled areas indicate that they're livestock. The rest is several billion indigenous life forms, nothing sentient." James looked down at the brightly flashing button, ~"Shit. It's a colony. It could be a thousand or a hundred million. I could scorch earth billions and I could prove it now. Shit are the Hydrans gonna freak and call me a war criminal!"~ ~"Make a choice, hombre."~ ~"And if I don't I'm disgraced. If I do I'll send millions of innocent civilians to their deaths! I did not want this!"~ And his conscience rang like a clarion call, ~"Well you got it, so suck it up and make a decision! Stick by your principles or save your ass. Make a choice!"~ James finger hovered over the fire button. He had the weight of accumulated years of conflict, the burden of bad choices in a career that spanned decades and gave the Federation life during its dying times. He had tried to do it with some honour, but where was it? He too had killed civilians in his many raids on Hydran soil. He sent innocent officers to their death just to keep victory close. He sentenced others to die so that others would live. And he had done it all with the conviction that he was defending Federation principles. For what, did he reason? To watch them slowly die? To come to the point where he could commit his final act of hypocrisy by advocating mass slaughter on a race who's only fault was a slight moral misalignment towards the militaristic? What happened to the Starfleet of Kirk's era, who could fight their enemies and make friends with them decades later? Would this era have spared the Klingons and the Romulans? Would it have the patience? What happened to the Starfleet he loved? What was he defending all these years? He couldn't speak for the Federation that allowed these weapons, or the Starfleet of which he served, but he knew his history well, and knew that the founding fathers would have considered it all reprehensible. And so did he. His hand drifted away from the console. ~"I won't push the button. They'll have to find some other stooge to do it."~ And just as smartalecky, his own private jester of a conscience chided, ~"That's great broken head, but who the fuck's gonna save your fleet from a three to one starship assraping?"~ "Awwww.... son of a bitch..." He said, soberly, "Ensign, hail the Hydran fleet." "Aye sir." The Hydran flagship leader showed up again on his viewscreen, and more peeved than his last appearance. "You have my proposal. Surrender or die, Federation!" ~"Well... what's the bright idea, dumbfuck?"~ James reviewed it in his head. So Starfleet, sending one rather loyal but insubordinate officer whom just so happened to be Protocol 34's loudest detractor, was sent to Vedek's landing with the first generation of Protocol 34 weapons of mass destruction, with specific orders to destroy all Hydran Military targets, while not disguising the fact that he was deliberately ordered to take so few ships to encourage him to use the Protocol 34 weapons. If there was a more hamfisted and blatant attempt from the Admiralty to either discredit himself, disobey orders by leaving the battlefield in disgrace, look like a hypocrite by launching the weapons or get himself killed in a vain attempt to take the system without them, Commodore James Corgan couldn't think of it. And he obeyed, allowing himself into this political and very physical trap. But then the light turned on in his head. Their orders were specific. Demonstrate Starfleet's intent by using the weapons of mass destruction. Make sure the Hydrans are out of the Vedek sector. Don't come back afterwards until both are done. Use Protocol 34. Clear Vedek sector. Come back afterwards. James found a reason to smile. "Not quite." James Corgan rose out of the Captain's chair, waved an index finger at the screen, then pointed to his console, "I have orders to tell you that you are in our territory and we want you out. You have twelve hours and your fleet has enough ships to make it happen. Failure to comply will result in the utter destruction of the system, your fleet... and your pretty face. Are the terms acceptable?" As echoed by the entire Hydran fleet, Corgan's Hydran counterpart laughed a contemptuous grumbling hiss, "No wonder you have such a reputation. Slasher Corgan. Death's Head Corgan. Raider Corgan. Starfleet's Fire Marshall. Your reputation for audacity holds true, but not even you can fight these odds. I say it is you that should surrender." James unflinchingly said, "USS Blackwater... activate Protocol 34. Trilithium devices. Target their planet and do not fire unless ordered. Corgan out." The Hydran's ears started to curl as its heads looked apprehensively at his readouts. "What is this? That must be a sensor ghost. You're also known as Corgan the Liar." The Hydran was right. James was known to use alot of bluff, and he had to make the biggest bluff of his career. He couldn't go back, not when the lie was this big. ~"And if I don't..."~ James sighed, addressing the alien, "Never liked that nickname. It's so inaccurate. Listen, I assume your stomach dropped down to genitalia level because not only do your sensors see true blue Trilithium in one of my warheads, but you're also familiar with what Trilithium does on account that you have a couple of those yourselves. I take it it's for the new offensive?" The Hydran snarled, "SHUT UP!" "But that's not all!" James embellished with a little actor's flair, "You're also reading a huge unstable power spike in the weapons bays as well. That would be my tri-cobalt devices. I got enough to turn your planet into slag and your ships into scrap. Go ahead, scan away. My countermeasures are off." The Hydran's heads were not working in unison. James had the experience to know it was a tell sign. The Hydran commander was rattled. "And you figure... oh hell, we'll just send a Starbeast at ol' James and finish him off anyways. Well... I was going to save it for your planet... but my third option works well with Starbeasts. Have you ever heard of the Genesis Project?" The Hydran dimly remembered the words. "You lie." "I shit thee not, lizard, but I'll give you the refresher anyways. It was an old 23rd century attempt by my people to make an instant terraforming device. It even had ready made creatures and the whole ecosystem worked... until it burned out too quick and destroyed the affected planet in a matter of days. The Klingons tried to take it and make it a weapon. Us... we had the schematics and the basic principles, so why not rig it up with all sorts of Anti-Hydran hostile lifeforms to shake and bake on whatever planet we choose? And the wonderful thing about it too is that it could also virtually re-format the DNA of a Starbeast. Turn its own biology against it. Neat, eh? And if you don't believe me... scan for protomatter." The Hydran gave an unspoken command. James kept his smile back. The sensor ghost was working, but it was too good for the Hydran to believe. "It would make me a sucker for believing it." "Oh yeah? You saw my scans. My whole fleet's loaded with this stuff. We got enough mass drivers and tricobalt devices to turn your colony into a slag heap, but I figure what the hell... I have more than enough rocks to throw at your little dingbat colony and kick your fleet's ass too. But why should we put the poor civilian farmers in the line of fire? Why don't we pick a deserted starsystem and see if ol'James is bluffing. Say... how about Argosa? It's next door, has still burning but dead planetoid, and there's a deserted world a few parsecs away so nobody's gonna miss it. Just a day trip. Just you and me. What do you say?" The Hydran thought over James' proposal, "And if I do not?" "And if you do not I get to set the universe on fire, my friend, and your race will call me Corgan the Despoiler. Now, are you going to come with me and see what I'm really capable of... or are we going to have a demonstration inside an inhabited star system?" "And if I come with you?" "I'll be inclined to have mercy... as long as you vacate this star system." The Hydran paused. He was clearly in duress, but still skeptical. "Lets see your superweapons at work... in Argosa." Corgan smirked, "Then come with me. Oh, and no funny business. Just you and me. Our fleets stay behind. If they make any hostile actions towards my men and we play WMD tag. Do you understand." "Fine... I..." ***** "....ACCEPTED A GODDAMN SURRENDER?!?!" "Heaven Isn't on Our Side" Time - a few years before the events of 'Finem Respice'
It was no secret John Q. Brhode and James L. Corgan didn't see eye to eye. It was the same on the USS Galaxy, the same at Starfleet Headquarters, the same all these years. The dynamic of their hatred was almost as intimate as an actual love, both knowing each other so well from multiple visits that their meetings had become a tad bit predictable. Case in point was the events preceeding the meeting. James dragged out sending a report to Brhode about Vedek's landing, pretending to be busy in that unknown planet known as 'elsewhere'. Just when Brhode was about to have James' commission for dinner, Corgan would finally give Brhode the truth. It was always what Brhode asked for... more or less... and it always ended with no explanation. That was for the meeting at Starfleet Headquarters, under screaming orders to attend or else, to which James would show up in the middle of some paperwork or important VIP visit via transporting directly to his location, startling the hell out of anyone that came in, Brhode included (On the Galaxy, James let Brhode walk all over him on the false assumption that rank meant respect and he couldn't talk back. Never again.). There, Brhode would ask in a pissed off manner why James did what Brhode asked without actually doing it in the way he was asked to do, and there James would give a mocking description of the unfolded events. It was a practiced duel of will at this point, both men not wanting to concede or show weakness, playing their proper roles, both walking away with their manhoods attached. Not today. "Actually... it was a ceasefire." James corrected his superior officer, pacing, his sword slapping against his hip as his shoes clack-clacked on the floor. Brhode's palms slammed on the top of his desk, "A CEASE FIRE?!?!?! A GODDAMN CEASE FIRE?!?! THERE WAS NO FIRE FOR YOU TO CEASE! THEY LEFT WITHOUT YOU EVEN FIRING A SHOT! THE WHOLE VEDEKS LANDING OFFENSIVE!! THE WHOLE DAMN COLONY! YOU LET THEM HAVE A CEASEFIRE AND YOU LET THEM WALK AWAY UNSCATHED WITHOUT EVEN BOTHERING TO CONSULT STARFLEET!!!" "Well... yeah! That was a stipulation in our ceasefire agreement and the did let our colonists walk away whenever they took our colonies." James explained as if he was speaking the obvious to a dullard student, "And you did tell me that I had a very limited timetable to work with, one that would have evaporated had I consulted with the bureaucrats at home..." "DON'T GET CUTE ME WITH ME YOU GRAVEROBBING PSYCHOTIC!!!!" Brhode shot out of his chair, his whole body quivered as his face turned volcanic, "You had explicit orders to raze that colony to ashes and to turn their fleet into a debris field by any means necessary!!! If it walked upright or drew a breath, you were ordered to help them all assume room temperature. Men! Women! Children! Little old green skinned biddies and their little dogs too! EVERYONE! And correct me if I'm wrong, I also gave you the means and then some, and told you not to come back unless you USED THEM!!!!" "Oh...." James feigned forgetfulness, "Protocol 34.... yeah." "Yeah, Protocol 34. The one you milksops have been bitching and moaning about. Tell me, enlighten me, help me understand what misguided idea crawled into your brain and to override your orders, Mister Corgan. Why didn't you at least put the fear of God, and most importantly, the fear of ME into those three legged bastards by turning Vedek's Landing into a funeral pyre so strong, that I could feel the glow of its warmth on my face right this very moment?!?! Why didn't you kill every man, woman and child on that colony?!" James played serious with the next comment, "Oh come on sir! That's totally against our founding principles! We're not supposed to commit mass slaughter on civilians. If anything, what I did by letting that colony evacuate was pure old school. I got your objectives and I didn't have to go against any treaties, any moral or ethical exercises, we all got to walk away without shooting each other... that's a motherfucking victory! What the fuck is your problem?!" "My problem is that one of my men suddenly lost his balls and sprouted dove feathers out of his ass! You didn't act mercifully, you showed weakness! Because of that they'll come back, stronger than ever, and never take us seriously in a battle because we flake out at the last instant! If you had used Protocol 34..." "But sir... I did use Protocol 34." "What?" "I did... honest." James' smile was craven, "I took the Hydran commander aside and took him to a nearby dead planet. Bombed the fuck out of it too." "A dozen." "That was your fleet's compliment." "Yeah... but he didn't need to know that." Brhode's face turned pale, "So, you tossed the investment of our best and brightest minds not to mention billions of megacredits on the HOPE that the enemy would think you had a lot more destructive power... and you PISSED IT ALL AWAY PLAYING TARGET PRACTICE WITH A PLANETOID?!" "Yeah." James snorted mirthfully, "I even adjusted the yield to crack the mantle open. Neat, huh?" "You just tossed it away... just like that...without so much as a second thought..." "Shit boss... try timing the series of explosions to the tune of Megadeth's 'Symphony of Destruction'. THAT was difficult, and let me tell you it freaked the fuck out of the Hydran commander." Brhode was still suspended in disbelief, "And the dumb lizard bought that?" "Well...yeah! Don't you read the intelligence reports? I know they do. They know about Protocol 34. And my bluff played into their worst fears. So I told them I had the same weapons compliment in my fleet... lied outright about Genesis, and the poor sucker fell for it. I'd never seen a more orderly or more rapid evacuation of a colony. Maybe Starfleet Intelligence was right about the Triad getting weaker..." "ENOUGH!" Admiral Brhode slammed his fist, scattering PADD over his desk. Corgan didn't flinch like usual, and it was only making Brhode madder, "I'm glad you can look at this with such brevity and treat intergalactic war and politics like its your own personal amusement park. While you're enjoying your little warm and fuzzy feeling, let me let you in on a tiny little secret:Starfleet needed that goddamn fleet and that system DESTROYED!!! Not sent away with a kiss goodbye. We needed it destroyed so that we could have a stronger bargaining position at the Triad's Conference, and now thanks to your ceasefire..." "Which is no longer in effect since it only extended to the evacuation..." "...SHUT UP! Because of that the Hydran fleet was able to reconstitute its lines and we won't be able to punch through in a counterattack. On top of that... Hydrans left and right are trying to cut separate deals with other fleet commanders and the Diplomatic Corp is accusing us of Cowboy Diplomacy because they're left totally out of the loop!" "Yeah... bloody shame that. So they're rebuilding their lines... but they're ready to throw in the towel. Isn't that a little contradictory?" James said sarcastically. "James..."Brhode growled, "That doesn't matter. You went over MY head, over Admiral Janeway's head, and over every single head in Starfleet Headquarters! That's high treason you petulant little necrophiliac! Would you care to know how high treason is punished during wartime?" James eyebrow twitched. "I guess you're right. When do I get my medal?" Brhode leaned back from his desk. He was starting to laugh, a sound that unnerved James. ~"Don't fear the reaper..."~ James told himself. Brhode's jaw and lip quivered as he held back the urge to hit his subordinate, he sighed and let his temper cool, "Maybe you're right. You made the Hydrans blink. By public perception you should be a hero. Maybe even get yourself a little ticker tape parade or have a garden named after you somewhere. You might very well have put an end to the Triad War. But the funny thing about a post war restructuring is that a lot of wartime officers become redundant." "Is that a fact?" James said, crossing his arms. "Oh yes." Brhode grinned, "A realistic fact. Here's another one: We always start by taking out the insolent officers that were ONLY there because we needed asses in command chairs. That would be you, by the way. The ass in the command chair." "Uh huh." James acted bored, "Your point?" "The point is you may get your medal and your parade because there will be some nacelle hugging, treaty thumping Admirals that support your questionable methods. But it will also come with a golden retirement watch, because it doesn't erase the fact that you disobeyed direct orders, you constantly argued with your superiors and provided a disruptive command structure that had lasting repercussions all through Starfleet Command. The fact is... we can't depend on you to follow orders the way WE want them followed. That makes you expendable." James swallowed a lump in his throat, "You still need me on the Borg front." Brhode said, "No, we don't. We have plenty of loyal officers willing to use Protocol 34 on the Borg and if by chance we didn't, I am certain we could even train a Paklid to do what you can't. You've proven that we can't rely on you. Therefore we can't use you." Brhode started writing down on a PADD, "So congratulations, Mr. Corgan. You got your victory. Now get the fuck out of my office. Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out." But James didn't move. He didn't give the Admiral the dignity of understanding his feelings. Brhode was giving the final kiss of death to his career, one that had taken his life, his loves away, had turned him into a callous machine then a butcher of millions, and had attempted to do so again. But for all of Starfleet's faults and James' mistakes, he had loved Starfleet. He loved the Federation, despite all their faults and the enlarging rift between the here and now and its old fashioned values that encouraged him to join against his father's wishes at the age of 18. It was the hardest decision he had to make, but it was one he already made up days ago. Brhode growled, "Didn't you hear me?" James removed the communicator badge from his coat. Pressing it once with a chirp, he placed it on Brhode's desk. "Here you go sir. What you've always wanted. My commission. Your trophy. Take it." "Oh, you don't get to resign. I'm already writing the orders to fire you." Brhode called up the James Corgan dishonourable discharge template from his personal files then signed the PADD, "A shame really. If you'd played ball with us, you would have had a career. But you choose to think for yourself and that's never been your strong suit. Now you can go it alone. The Doves didn't like you. The Hawks didn't like you. Hell, I don't know anyone who likes you. Now you're on your own and you have nobody to defend you. Let that be a lesson. Sometimes you have to run with the pack to survive..." *Bleepbleep* Chimed Brhode's console. James held the biggest, unmitigated smile of his life. Brhode scowled, "What are you so happy about?" "Read the letter. Go on. You'll like it." Brhode read the message, then his face was red. "What the hell is this?!" "My fuck you letter. As in... fuck you I quit." James flicked the communicator badge to Brhode, "Postdated to before you shitcanned me." Brhode's growl was low and menacing, "You can't do that." "Sure I can!" Corgan said enthusiastically, giving Brhode a huge slap on the shoulder, "I already sent a copy to Admiral Janeway and to the bureaucrats at Starfleet Human Resources, so officially I quit. And since it was before you could send your orders... I get to keep my benefits and retirement package. It's been a hellish couple of decades, but I've decided that between the abuse, the compromising of our founding principles and the fact that you'll just find another stooge to launch your nukes... I can only do so much. So goodbye! I'm so fucking outta here, and Starfleet deserves whatever shit it gets into from here on in!" "You won't leave." Brhode didn't flinch either, he was steadfast in his belief like so many times before that James' rants were all bluster, "No matter what you do, you know we'll always find a man that can play ball. You know we'll show our enemies that we can shove a boot up their ass with or without you. Tell me.. are you going to walk away knowing you could stop the nukes from flying?" James shrugged, "Yup. I've done what I can. Now I'm almost wishing you guys would be dumb enough to unleash some Protocol 34. Heads will roll because of it... and I'll be lightyears away from the fallout... while making sure in my own independent manner that you shitheads don't fuck over my beloved Federation with it." James winked, "You know... like Hawksley Industries." Brhode went ballistic, "I knew it you little..." James left for the door, but turned around, cutting Brhode off, "Oh, and send my retirement watch to my sister on Earth, ok?" "GO TO HELL!" "Already there. And do yourself a favour... get rid of the Hirogen skin boots. Someone might think you have a hardon for the dead or something..." Turning his back, and raising his middle finger, James let the doors slide behind him, containing Brhode's bubbling, frothing wraith. As he left Starfleet Headquarters, into the sea breeze, the bright sun and the looming golden gate bridge overlooking San Francisco Bay, he was left to wonder what the future was going to possess for him. The war was not yet over, even if it was close. Starfleet was still very warlike. The Federation was in a mess, its member worlds arguing with each other, colonies in ruins or unusable, people either scattered, indecisive or just plain lazy wallowing in a socialist paradise. The universe wasn't as full of wonders and not nearly as safe as it was when he first joined Starfleet Academy. It wasn't nearly as safe even after the Dominion War. The Universe had become a dangerous place, full of marauding bandits, unreliable allies, dying worlds and a cynical, hard bitten race. There were very few people of conscience left. And James had his enemies. Triad commanders, private interests, his own freakin' family including his ex-wife (an armistice was in the works though), a daughter that barely knew him (make that two), a heartbroken playboy with an axe to grind (Hawksley btw), and one dead fiance in a box, and a very live girlfriend that was still in Starfleet and... thanks to him... would have the career equivalent of a crucifixion for being in near contact with him. And then there was Starfleet itself. James made a spectacle of burning his bridge with Brhode, and it might take Starfleet up with it. As usual, James had to shrug, because what the hell? He was free. Free to do whatever his heart wanted. It was a scary feeling. But one that would be rewarding. “All the Stars in Heaven Come Crashin' Down” Location: Space Boomer Fleet 7, on the Federation/Romulan Star Republic Border (formerly the Neutral Zone). Time: Dark Future Modern, Year 2402, 'Boomer Fleet 7, one of many roving, civilian run megafleets that made for the traditions of outgoing, freespirited space travellers from worlds close and wide, skirted the former Neutral Zone in its annual passover of the sector. Once a stellar year did they make the transit, since a majority of the ships in the convoy were originally based in Federation or former Federation coreworlds. Like a gunmetal cloud with blue and red fireflies, the Boomer fleet comprised of nearly a hundred and fifty seven starships of various sizes, ranging from space age Winnebagos the size of runabouts (some of them were indeed runabouts), to the medium vessels of such a bewildering variety as to be a veritable who's who of the galaxy's shipyards, to as large as the few rare capital ships, old starliners, freight haulers, and surplus explorer hulls from the Federation's golden age. Some were as new as twenty years old. Others were older than the legendary James T. Kirk, and one was so old as to be mistaken for a veteran of the first Earth/Romulan War. All were in gaudy appeal, like modern day gypsy wagons to reflect the freedom and gaiety the modern day Space Boomer sought, away from the strife of their homeworlds, thousands of light years away from homes torn apart by civil war. In the centre of the fleet was a well maintained ship, not as gaily decorated as her neighbors, but holding its dignity high as a queen of the spacelanes. No other ship class in the Federation had her beauty. Slender, tapered nacelles spoke of grace and speed. A sleek form fitting hull glided in the vacuum, a bright blue deflector array its one true, sparkling, beautiful eye, to her saucer, never more perfectly proportioned. She didn't need makeup. Her baby blue hull with darker blue and grey highlights enhanced her image as a queen of space, holding close to her an air of majesty and power. She had the look of a forgotten age, where the Federation felt and knew their destiny was written in the millions of twinkling stars, and had made a ship to express that power, to tell the universe that this was where they belonged. She was an Excelsior Class vessel, one of a few in the Boomer fleet, and one of the best maintained. She was the S.S. Stolen Heart. She was James' Corgan's ship. She was his means to do anything that needed doing with a big starship. VIP protection, heavy cargo hauling, unofficial leader of Boomer Fleet 7's militia, transit... skullduggery. The Stolen Heart had done it all. And the poor old girl was nearly a hundred years old! Warp fracture stresses were a plague so he kept it at warp 5 (new scale) as much as he could. There were more than a few patches in her hull. All the weapons were secondhand, salvaged from much better ships until she was as heavily armed as a Lakota variant (which was state of the art during The Dominion War, but behind the times now, and sans the fancy Quantum torpedoes). She might have been fast and strong, but like her captain she was a little scarred and pitted, and a little arthritic, and barely calling a few microwelds some hull plating, and it's old plaque (USS Tribute) as off the shipyard original. It was a chore to keep her in space. “Bugger!” James cursed in his captain's ready room, as he looked over the manifest of parts needed to keep the Stolen Heart in functioning order. “Duotronic motherboards for the control systems. New plasma conduits. And we still have to patch up the shuttlebay and gut out the port phaser array.” James had never been happier. His love for the Stolen Heart was such he could stand the privations of a lack of parts and the crew requirements for such a vessel. What the hell... it was his! When he saw her he fell in love. Hence the ship's name. James was getting older. His hair was turning dull blonde, wheat strands were turning ghostly. His face was more wrinkled and worn, like parched leather, and his face showed more scars thanks to flying debris from starship battles. Yet he still had that lean, dexterous figure, a cat's grace, the devilish blue eyes that told people he was up to something. He didn't have a uniform anymore, just a simple civilian dark blue jumpsuit, open at the chest to show a high necked white sweater, and a baseball cap with his former ship, the USS Kindjal and its designation, fleet number and his years of service, stitched on the front. What was new, and hadn't been discovered until he quit Starfleet, was that extra vitality in his body, that spring in his step, unburdened by an Atlas sized load of responsibility on his shoulders. He was unashamed to admit that he was still fast with a phaser, quick with a military sword, and probably the best guitar player in the Boomer fleet. He was older, aged prematurely, but never did he feel so young, not since the academy, before the First Battle of the Typhon Expanse. Like that time, the possibilities were opened and James happiness was unimpinged, The universe was going to pot but James was feeling just fine. Even if he couldn't always get his ship in proper functioning order. T'lan was a supporting influence, as always. “The conduits are a simple order, Sir. The fleet has plenty of spare conduits... for a price of course.” James grumbled, “And they always try to gouge anyone in the fleet when they do. Boomers... they'll rob you blind if you don't know what you're doing.” T'lan held a forgiving smile, “Be that as it may, those conduits need to be replaced and must be done so immediately. That is not difficult, and neither is the spare shuttle. We still have our runabout and that should be enough. What I'm worried about are the Duotronic circuitry. Since the Civil War, any ship circuitry has been hard to find. All of it's been manufactured for military purposes. We may have to go with the alternative.” James took a moment to behold T'lan, and wondered how lucky he was go deserve someone as good as her. She was a database of information, a leftover from what was left of her Vulcan mentality. While James had big ideas, she had sobering reality to help ground him. On the rare times that James had a brilliant plan, T'lan was there with the calculations to make it work. She was smart then, and now, even with emotions to make her thought processes more muddled and less stable, was a formidable mind, all used for support. But what was her strongest trait was her dedication. Years of She was the best first officer James could ask for. In the multiple decades he'd known her, T'lan had followed him through every hellhole the Federation had the privilege of dropping starships into. She'd put up with more bullshit from James than any woman deserved, Elizabeth Bathory or Lorena Bobbit included. That bullshit included a loveless marriage to some other woman, the loss of their quadmate, endless nights of worrying about his safety, and the most traumatic for any Vulcan... losing her emotional control and somehow existing as an emotional creature for over twenty years. No other Vulcan had done it. Then again, no other Vulcan had their personality spliced with another... twice, the second time giving her emotions. Yet through all the disasters, near misses, near deaths, personal dramas, mutual kinships and sexual tensions that clawed and tempted them, always she came back to James, ready to give him more statistics and suggestions. And yet she was still as beautiful as the day James meet her. It was not a cliché. Vulcans aged more slowly than humans, and T'lan would be just as young, vivacious, intelligent, cloying, witty, and breathtaking as she was twenty years ago, or twenty years from now. Timeless beauty, towering brains, and a dedication that still baffled him to this day. James couldn't think of a better combination. James felt the heat rise up in him, ~”Not to mention still as sexiliciously tempting, hard bodied, full booty'ed, long leggedly, flexibly limber like a snake and with a marathoner's endurance. Not to mention my favorite part of her, aside from those lovely eyes and that sharp as steel Vulcan brows and ears, is the universe's most luscious, perky, perfectly round and firm ti...”~ “James.” T'lan snapped James out of his dirty thoughts, “Are you ok? Your pupils were dilating and you seemed... distracted.” James shook his head, mumbling dreamily, “Oh... sorry love. My mind was... elsewhere.” T'lan smirked, not believing a word. “Right. Elsewhere. Perhaps we can get back to the ships needs before we attend to the needs of our own marriage.” “Needs of our marriage.” James crooned, catching T'lan in a dirty little secret, “So you admit that we need to get our freak on for the sake of our marriage.” T'lan looked at James narrowly, “You promised. Never in the ready room.” “Baby.” James winked, spinning in his chair, “I learned better than to let my work interfere with my love life. It took me twenty years to learn from that mistake.” He stopped his chair, leaning down on his desk and crossing his arms, looking as lovestruck as a cadet with his first crush, “Can't you help a guy break his own bad habits?” T'lan looked James straight in the eye. The foreplay was a fun diversion of their mundane problems, but T'lan knew when hint that Corgan needed to disengage. With a smile that could faint that same cadet, she disarmed James' advances, then tapped his head with her PADD. “Work first, James. Then we can play.” “Fooey!” James fake sulked, “You're no fun anymore.” “And for that you owe me dinner and a holoprogram.” “Awww crap. That'll cut into the power rations... then our real rations.” “You can afford it now, dear James.” “Yeah, but I can't buy a good supply of decent duotronic circuitry.” James went back to grousing, “I guess we'll have to contact the usual Romulan dealers again. Nobody makes knockoff Starfleet tech as good as they do... not even Starfleet these days.” “I'll get a hold of Nuhir.” T'lan said, in reference of James daughter from a past relationship. “Make it so.” Corgan imitated the stuffy, rich European accent of a Captain of the old school he admired, and rather poorly, “And fetch me some Earl Grey, will you? There's a good woman!” T'lan said flatly, “Only if you make me some Plo'meek broth.” “My turn to replicate again?” “Yes dear.” “Then replicate I shall. Say... when are we going to replicate?” “You mean children?” James ordered the replicator to integrate base replication matter into two steaming cups of hot liquid. He took both cups and handed one to T'lan, “Yeah, you know... children. I missed raising my two, and I really want to be there when we finally have kids of our own. I guess... I want to make up for the two I let down. Besides... I think being a little Boomer baby with a fleet of rogues barely tolerated by the law living in rickety old ships is the perfect environment for a little hellraiser to spawn in.” T'lan answered, crisply with a little bit of fun, “When my pon'farr cycle returns.” “Two years? Come on... you don't even pon'farr anymore.” “I still want it to be special, I want her to be made at a special time. There can be no better special time than the pon'farr cycle. And if you behave yourself you might be able to have sex with me before that time.” James sipped his tea, “Careful girl. I've had to wait that long before.” “Not with me.” “Ohhhh... game, set, match. You win.” “Do I not always win, James?” “Point taken.” “And I do not want, as you humans refer to, as a 'hellraiser'. Raising one hellraiser child with a 'rickety old starship' is enough for me. The next one will be a logician.” “Nuts. Waitasecond... I'm a hellraiser? When did that...” James paused. There was only so much of his puerile sense of humour that T'lan could take. “Fair enough. Dinner, date, and we can discuss our future. Shall we visit the bridge?” “We shall.” “Milady...” The bridge greeted James and T'lan in a warmer, less formal environment then they were used to on Starfleet ships. All the bridge officers weren't officers really, just ex-Starfleet, some from various ships looking for adventure outside the Federation, others Andorians from the Blue Fleet, fleeing from Andoria's draconian genetic preservation laws. No uniforms but well kept civilian clothes and communicator badges that showed the space boomer's unofficial logo; an old fashioned rocket ship circling a planet. These were people, whom in his short time running the Stolen Heart, that were closer to him than he had gotten with his old crew on the Kindjal. There was the added comradery, mixed with family, and bonded by the motivation of wanderlust and freedom. A short time made for a close crew. And how amazed James was when they took to the life so easily. James considered himself a 'Spacer', but he was a Starfleet brat first and foremost. To be a Space Boomer he had to live the life, unbound by military service. Yet how easily he was accepted, like they were waiting for him to come home. “Remember when I first got the ship?” James asked T'lan. Of course James didn't have to ask. T'lan still had a Vulcan's perfect memory. “I do, Sir. You were fired from Starfleet.” “Correction. I fired them.” “Ok..” T'lan giggled, “You fired them, and thanks to that I was about to 'fire' Starfleet too, when I received a communique from you, telling me to come to the Salzaar Shipyards.” “Gawd was I excited then.” “You were! And when I arrived you were looking outside the portholes of the civilian refitting yards, looking at this old derelict hull, and I asked you what was so important that you had to drag me all the way from Vulcan just to see what you called 'our future'.” “Can you blame a guy for being eager?” “I could blame you for making a poor purchase. I almost thought you suffered a delusional episode caused by the stress of losing your position in Starfleet.” “Until I showed you the Stolen Heart.” James said whistfully, “And I remembered. It was before the Civil War, before a worthless hulk like mine could fetch you its weight in gold pressed latinum. It was beaten up. It had more dents in it than a Klingon garbage scow. It had its old warp engines gutted, no weapon systems, navigational shields... and not a whole hell of a lot more.” “But then you told me our future.” “Yeah. I told you that I knew a friend in Taramor who had some capital ship grade phasers and some photon launchers. I told you I found some Romulan shield generators in one of the former Neutral Zone colonies. I also found some perfectly intact Excelsior nacelles in a junkyard planet in the Orion Triangle. If we could limp the ship over there we could piece everything together and have a first rate vessel.” “After the dozens of other modifications we had to make.” “Yeah, that's true. But you know... it was worth it. The days where we had to operate it ourselves. All the maintenance. I could have got the education for free at Starfleet Academy! But it was worth it. Hell... you were so impressed with the idea you joined me right on the spot.” T'lan snorted, “Your embellishments are laudable but misguided. You had to beg me to join you. You fell to your knees and confessed that without me to keep you grounded your... illogical and risky venture would fail.” “Hey, it worked... didn't it?” T'lan said after a long pause, “What worked was putting aside ego and admitting you needed me.” “You mean... the diamond ring and the marriage proposal had nothing to do with it?” T'lan coyly purred, “That was inevitable.” “Well I'm glad it was. Cal!” James called to his communications officer, breaking his trip down memory lane, “What's the comm. traffic like out there?” Calvin 'Cal' Machitty handled the older fashioned communications console like a professional. It wasn't as efficient as an integrated ops console, but the grey haired Cardassian War veteran handled it like a musical instrument in the hands of a maestro. “Lots of military traffic out there. Not much of a Federation presence, but with the Civil War going on that's no big surprise. The RSR's quiet... no big surprise there. They don't want to touch our Civil War with a ten foot pole.” “Anything on Fednet?” “Some news.” Calvin fine tuned the communications screens, “Betazed's suffering from an insurgency. Doves have taken Vulcan. Earth's finally getting some ground action...” “Christ.” James hissed, “My sister's still there.” The last time James saw his sister was on Earth, after he left Starfleet and before he bought the Stolen Heart. She was divorced, but she had two teenage sons. She had lost Corgan Media, her music and entertainment empire, to a hostile takeover from Hawksley Industries Media Division. She still had a settlement, made a rock and roll nightclub in Los Angeles, and was doing well providing a venue for Earth's rising heavy metal resurrection. Her kids listened to classical and jazz just to rebel. And they were on an Earth that was starting to feel the fires of war. “T'lan.” James said to his wife, “We gotta get them out of there. Soon.” T'lan reassuringly squeezed James' hand. “I know. But we can't take the Stolen Heart into Sector 001. We don't have the passports anymore.” “Damn the passports!” James hissed, his hand gripping the console, but gingerly keeping a tender caress on T'lan's fingers, “That's my family over there. Then there's 'Becca, and Nuhir, and who knows if the Mika Machine's still safe...” T'lan soothed, “It will be fine. The Mika Machine is well hidden. We were assured of that. Starfleet won't find it. And our family... and lets not forget that I still have my mother and father on Vulcan... they'll all be fine. Our arrangements will still hold. They'll get out of the warzone.” James sighed. “I hope so. Or help me god and spare the poor fucker hurts any one of them...” Calvin fiddled with his earpiece as something new came over his audio feed, “We have a new bulletin from Fednet. It's...” Calvin listened intensely, not missing a word, the more he heard the more distant his eyes became, the more his jaw stood agape. James looked, disquieted, as the old gentleman listened. “Talk to me, Cal. What's going on.” Calvin stepped away from his console, as if his work area was the source of some unknown plague. He fingered his earpiece, then plucking it out of his ear he dropped it in shock. “Cal?” T'lan addressed the older man with authority, “Tell us what is going on.” Cal's voice was raspy, choking back a tear. James had never seen the old man cry. He never broke his calm in a firefight, ion storm or a checkpoint while hauling questionable cargo. The old man had seen more action than James, seen it all. ~”What could rattle him.”~ James pondered. Cal gave one brief, solid answer, as he turned the screen onto the Federation News Net and saw the truth. “It's Earth. Boss... it's destroyed.” The Bridge turned silent and numb. Alien and human alike had paused, all consoles untouched, as the news sank in. Be it alien or human, they all had ties to Earth. For them, it was home. It was the anchor, the rock that never moved. It was Rome, the seat of the empire. It was where they trained, worked and decided their life path. It was the springboard of the rest of their lives. And for some, it was where family was. And for James, it was where his most intimate connections still stayed. Rebecca, Mika... the machine was moved to Earth! His last link to his daughter Allison was gone! Nuhir was with the machine! And what about Courtney and her family? Did they get off Earth on time? A quiver escaped James lips. “No... please no. It has to be a lie.” And he said no more, as his comm channels were overloaded with the demands of Boomer ships trying to gain an understanding of what was going on, as they were all seeing what he saw on the Newsnet, the video of the centre of Federation civilization cracking apart.
"Kit Chat" (Occurs twenty hours after 'Facing the Hound') Victor Krieghoff
**** Xellos System "Where am I calling from today?" Victor asked the trio of young technicians "I won the bet," Dara, the Ferengi woman, spoke up without looking up from "The Talos system?" Victor considered that. "I'm not even going to ask where "Afraid of the answer"" she returned with a smirk. "No," he shook his head. "No, that's not what I'm afraid of. Here's only "Coming online in ten," interjected Aiella, the Trill to the Ferengi's left. Victor stretched as the screens descended, cutting him off from the command When the count reached 'one' outside, a viewscreen opened up in empty space "Victor." She breathed a sigh of relief. Victor Kriefhoff was one of the few "We're doing fine," Victor nodded. "Tired, but who isn't? It's a tiring "And the kids? They are not with you right now are they?" Bran did not "They're fine," Victor assured her with a smile. "Growing like weeds, as "Oh great! I miss them so much, but it helps to know that you two are Victor nodded and regretfully let the smile slip away from his face. "I need She looked at the ground for a moment. "I have Maivia in custody. So far I Not exactly what Victor had called to talk about, but a topic he was willing "You know about my interrogations." It made her smile. "Of course you know, "I didn't say that *I* wouldn't kill him for personal satisfaction or "I intend to hand him over to the authorities so he gets his just "Not as limited as all that, Kit - you just don't want to utilize many of "I can't kill him." She said after a while. "And things are bungled, I don't Victor smiled. "Kit, Kit, all this time and you're still seeing regulations Branwen couldn't help but laugh. "Owwww, she is going to be so mad at me if "It's easier to get over being mad than it is to get over being a murderer, "You are right. Yes you are, as usually." She frowned at him. "I think that "I don't have all the answers, Kit, just some of them." His expression grew "Hell if I know. We were called here and all of a sudden there was a fight Victor started at her for a moment as the words worked themselves through It was then that the rest of the information processed and he realized why Even Branwen shivered a little hearing him speak like that. 'Uhm yeah, "She had no right," he whispered, as if he hadn't heard Bran's words. "No "Your name? Now Victor, nobody mentioned your name. It was the Shiva, you "Yes," he sighed, blinking. "Yes, of course you're right. The Shiva is to "It is NOT your fault, Victor." She said softly suddenly afraid for him. "Do?" he asked. "What am I going to do?" He considered that after repeating That sounded a little better, a little saner. "Just you know it, Vic. You He smiled at that. He was indeed those things now, which was so much better She laughed. "I do envy you your task sometimes. But I am not ready to lay "And for the Earth itself," he added quietly. "Is there anything else, Kit? "Yes tell the kids that I love them and will talk to them soon. Don't tell "I'll tell her," he nodded, smiling slightly. "I know she'll be looking "I will, I will tell them once I have figured out exactly what I want to "You're welcome," he nodded. "But it doesn't feel like you should be." "Hell, sure I should. You are keeping me kids safe and that is the most "They're my children, too, Kit," he replied. "In a way, they all are. you "It would be very nice." She agreed. "As long as you stay safe. Goodbye, "Goodbye," he nodded as the viewscreen closed in front of him, leaving him Only time would tell. With a <click> the starfield vanished and the pod started to open. "Thank The three women - girls really - laughed. "I knew you'd like it," Dara "I did," he assured her, wondering briefly what her father, a former The girls all laughed again, and passed around a 'high five' as Victor made "Chanel D," Dara prompted. "Chanel D," he repeated. "Thank you again. and I'm looking forward to seeing "We'll surprise you again," Aiella, assured him. "It's my turn to pick A chiming signal drew the girl's attention, and she frowned. "Angelienia's "Tell her I'm on my way," Victor called out as the door closed behind him. “Confessions, Part 2”
Col. Branwen London, commanding USS Trafalgar Lt. Col. Wayne “Biggs” Duke (NPC written by Betred) Ens. Rowena London (NPC written by Betred)
<USS Trafalgar, enroute to Vulcan>
Colonel London was in the small bathroom that leads off her ready room. She kept scrubbing her hands to get the smell of her ex-husband off her. Tears kept streaming down her face. She hated the man, had hated him for years and only this morning she had been sure that she loved Duke. Then hours later she had rutted on the floor with her ex as if they were a bunch of animals; and worse telling him that she still loved him. Bran felt dirty and guilty and she had no idea what had come over her.
Her door chimed, then opened. There were only two people on board who felt privileged enough to enter her ready room or her quarters without express permission; Rowena and Duke. Duke soon appeared at the doorway to the small lavatory. He was immediately concerned on finding his lover franticly scrubbing her hands and crying. "Branwen, what's wrong?"
Bran wiped her eyes. “I am fine, Duke. Just a bad day.” A fake smile was plastered on her face. Hell she was not going to lose this great man now.
He knew Bran better than that. A bad day would not cause tears. A bad day in Col. Branwen London's life caused heads to roll, paint to chip and marines to wish they were fighting the devil herself -- but not tears.
Taking her by her shoulders, Duke looked into Bran's eyes, concerned and confused. "Don't bullshit me Colonel. I'm the king of bullshit on this boat. What's wrong?"
“Something is wrong with me, Duke,” she said, her voice trembling. “Maybe maybe I should see the doc.” She choked down more tears.
"Tell me what happened." Based on his own close encounters this day with odd situations on the Trafalgar, Duke had a suspicion about what Bran might say next.
“I need you to know how much I love you.” she said first giving a hug. “You mean the world to me, Duke, and I want us to have a future together.” Bran took a deep breath. “I went to see my ex-husband again this morning, on my own.”
Duke returned the embrace and nodded his head towards the interior of Bran's ready room. He had a feeling this discussion would require some comfortable chairs, a drink, and a cigar. He walked over to a small cabinet where he knew Bran kept a bottle of scotch. It wasn't real scotch -- not many people had real scotch anymore, but it was alcohol and that was good enough for Duke.
"Seeing your ex on your own? Not one of your best ideas, Bran. What happened?"
“We screwed. Duke. I don’t know what came over me it was as if I felt somehow compelled and I could not break away. I hate the man! That is why I want to see the doctor, see if there is something wrong with me. I don’t love him any more, you have to believe me.”
Duke didn't react to Bran's confession. He simply walked over the couch with his drink, sat, and lit a cigar.
“Say something!” Bran said waiting for him to speak. She had expected much but not this calmness.
"Bran, darlin, you may want to rethink that part about not loving Man'darr anymore. And before you say anything else, remember, it's my man in the observation booth watching that cell -- not Lt. Adams." Duke's voice was cold and emotionless.
“He told you? You saw? Duke I don’t know what came over me. You know that is not me. I am not easy when it comes to sex and I do hate him.” She hoped that he could see in her eyes that she was sincere.
Duke cocked his head one way, then the other, looking at Bran from different angles. "You don't appear to have been forced. As a matter of fact, I'm told you rather enjoyed yourself."
Tears fell freely from her eyes. “While I was there, yes I did. I don’t know what came over me, I really don’t. What I do know is that you are so much more important to me.”
Duke knocked back his drink and stood. "Hell, Bran, I wish I could believe that. But ever since he's been on board, you've lost your sense -- you should have never been in there in the first place." He poured another drink, looked at it, sat it on the table. "I guess this kinda decides the question as to who is moving in with who, doesn’t it?"
“Duke please, give me another chance,” she said. “Let me prove my love to you.”
Duke paused at the door. "You know, everyone on this ship has been acting weird lately. Mac and I caught two crew humpin in the one of the lounges -- didn't even care that we were watching. I just don't know --"
He turned to leave, but when the doors opened, Rowena ran in and jumped into his arms.
Bran gasped, “Rowena! What are you doing?”
Ro jumped out of Duke's embrace and into her mother's.
“Girl, what is wrong with you today?” Bran said slightly amused. “You just saw me this morning, love.”
Ro let her mother go. "I'm so glad are both alright!" she exclaimed.
Duke shook his head; holding the young woman that close to him and clouded his thinking once again.
“Why are you so upset, love?” Bran asked her daughter, secretly happy that Duke had stopped leaving the room.
"I just finished a session with Nina -- Commander Litterest, the Liberty's intel officer. She admitted that there is a Hawk spy on Trafalgar who's spreading around a biological agent -- it's a sex virus!" explained Ro.
Duke was still leaning against the bulkhead, his eyes glazed and wearing a confused expression. He appeared to be close to passing out.
Rowena noticed Duke starting to fall to the deck and almost reached for him, but caught herself. "Mama, quick! You have to, um, well, maybe if you just kiss him that will work."
“A sex virus?” Bran asked while darting for Duke and catching him just before he could hit the deck hard. She cradled her lover in her arms. “Are you okay, love?” The colonel asked worried. Duke was tough; she had never seen him show any weakness before.
Duke appeared to be conscious, but did not respond to Bran. Ro, a victim of the dreaded neo-classical Disney revival of 2400, took her own advice and leaning over the fallen marine commander, kissed him gently on the lips. Duke moaned, but still did not awaken.
“Dear god, girl! What are you doing? This man is going to be your stepfather!”
“Mum, I told you! It’s some sort of weird aphrodisiac thing that makes people addicted to sex.” Still seeing the puzzled expression on Bran’s face, Ro grabbed her mother’s hand and placed on it on the bulge in Duke’s pants. “I think you need to do more than just kiss him. I’ll call sick-bay.”
The colonel blushed but her own desires were taking over again and feeling Duke erect like that made it very hard to concentrate. “I, uhm, I will work on it, dear.” For the second time that day her clothes went flying.
Duke came back to himself slowly, as if from a dream. He was dreaming of the first time Branwen had made her desires for him known. They had been friends and confidants since his posting on the Trafalgar, and while Duke found his commander to be an attractive woman, they were both marines, and she was his commander. That had all changed with the war. The news of the Bismarck attack by the Hawk faction, escalating the conflict to open war, had hit Bran hard. Duke and listened to her grief at what was lost, held her, comforted her, then when to his own quarters for sleep. A couple of hours later, Bran had entered his quarters and slid into his bed, and they had made love.
This, when he opened his eyes in full wakefulness, was exactly what he was doing now. The more rational part of his mind explained that this was not a good idea, while his body disregarded the advice in favor of increasing thrust, taking full advantage of what Bran was offering him.
Rowena ran from her mother's ready room, having contacted sick-bay. She knew if she stayed, she would be sorely tempted to join her mother and her lover as they thrashed about on the deck. Fortunately, she met the responding medical team coming onto the Bridge, and obtained what she desperately needed from their medical kits. After the injection, Ro felt weak kneed and jittery, but no longer suffered from the pangs of lust that threatened to over take her reason.
Unable to stop, Bran gave herself to the passion, her tongue in Duke's mouth and almost urgently guiding him to enter her once more. She was constantly wet the whole day through now and it was almost as if she needed something inside her to feel happy.
To say that the medical team that responded to the Colonel’s ready room was shocked would have been a gross understatement. On entering, they found their commanding officer naked astride their patient, her backside almost a blur as she hammered up and down on his erection. Both parties were screaming in ecstasy.
The medics moved forward to assist when Rowena intervened. "Let them finish on their own; they'll be alright when that happens. Please wait outside." She ushered the astonished medics back onto the bridge and took up a guardian position at the door to the ready room, keeping an ear out for her mother's explosive climax.
It came five minutes later when Bran finally sagged against Duke totally spent. Her body was aching all over, making love so many times in 48 hours; well, it was a bit like being a professional athlete.
Duke was confused. To be on the ready room floor getting the fucking of his life from Bran just didn't make sense. He also thought his dick was broken -- it was certainly chafed and pulling up his pants was torture.
"Bran," he gasped. "What the hell is going on?"
“Ro was in here a minute ago saying something about a sex virus.” She moaned when trying to get her trousers on. “That must be the reason I had sex with my ex.”
Duke hurt too much to comment. He felt like his penis was on fire -- and still, watching Bran bend over to pull up her panties, it grew.
Rowena came in with the medical team who had be sworn to secrecy -- a secret they would never actually keep, but at least they refrained from snickering at seeing the bruised copulators in an embrace. Ro quickly pressed a hypospray into both Duke and her mother's neck. Duke was grateful for the relief that ensued as his erection finally subsided.
Bran sagged against the wall; she was exhausted. “What the---, Rowena what is going on?” She managed to make it to a chair but sitting was not completely comfortable right now.
Ro covered her mother with a blanket. "Let's get you both to sick-bay -- the Doc can explain it better than I can."
“I hope he can.” She leaned heavily on her daughter’s arm while getting up. Boy, was she sore and chafed on top of worn out. “Duke, you okay?”
Duke was shuffling towards the door like he had a corn cob shoved up his ass. He just growled. Duke was definitely not "okay."
They were both moving like a couple of old people and very well aware of the medics who were valiantly refraining from laughing. It was not a position the colonel enjoyed very much. “Maybe a stretcher for Colonel Duke?” She suggested, hardly moving any better herself.
"Don't need no god damn stretcher!" Duke growled. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his posture to parade standards and marched out of the ready room. Once they were in the turbolift, he sagged against the car wall, holding onto his balls.
"Need ice."
Now Bran couldn’t keep a straight face. “Sorry, but this is funny.” She hissed immediately, her own nether regions were in too much pain.
Duke stuck his tongue out at Bran as Rowena and the medical team burst into fits of laughter. It broke the ice that everybody was laughing now. And Bran felt less embarrassed. The lift stopped and the small party struggled bravely on to sickbay. "Messenger Rescued" The Messenger ========== The Messenger pressed his lips together in a bit of a scowl at this news. But it was not his place to judge, just deliver. "Well... at least you're doing something for the people. That's more than what can be said of others in this pointless war." He sighed again. "My name is of no consequence. I've tossed off such worldly trappings long ago. But if you need something to call me; I'm known to people on Earth as The Messenger." "The Messenger? How did you come about that name if I may ask?" "I was renamed by the Holy Church to carry on the name of the Archangel Gabriel, the Messenger of the Lord." The Messenger said. "I personally feel that I am unworthy of such a prestigious name, so simply Messenger works for me." He explained. "So that then brings us to the question of who you might be Captain and how I ended up rating the visit of the "I am Captain Alexandra Lee. We intercepted your communications on Earth. You are a brave person, Messenger. Not too many of those kinds of people are left. And, you are right about there not being many people around nowadays to help others, but my crew and I still live by Starfleet's code to defend the weak and help those who are in need, even if many consider that code dead." "That depends. We managed to rescue those that we could by transporter and are currently being held in Cargo Bay Three." The Pegasus Class was nowhere as big as a Galaxy Class, being barely smaller than a Sovereign Class and similar in design. "But your destination should be left to you. I'll have my Medical Staff tend to those we rescued, and you as well." The Messenger nodded as he started noting the multiple abrasions on his face and hands from the flying debris planetside. "I'll be fine. I've had worse injuries in the past. I would like to go down to the Cargo Bay and see to the survivors. I don't suppose that you have a ship's chaplain or counselor on board by any chance that I could assist with this task by any chance?" Counselors and Chaplains nowadays seemed as rare as Latnium with all of the losses incurred over the years of war. "No, not a dedicated counselor, but our Chief Medical Officer has filled that roll quite nicely. I'll have him join you in the Cargo Bay." "Thank you Captain. Also, I was wondering. Is there any word on a ship lifting off from North America? If her transponder was working, she'd be marked neutral as the USS Astalder." "I'll have my Operations Officer look over the sensor logs, as at the time we were busy transporting you and the survivors, while plotting a course out of the system. We've sustained moderate damage to the ship...but nothing that can't be repaired in two day's time. Is there anything else that you require? What vacant quarters we have available, you and those rescued are welcome to use for showers and to clean themselves up if they wish." A part of the Messenger pined for a nice refreshing shower, but there was work to be done first. There was always work to be done first. "Thank you but no. My job is down in the Cargo Bay now. All I need at the moment is on my person." He said, indicating his utility belt and his backpack. "The vacant quarters should go to those who are in the most need; families and wounded. So then by your leave Captain…?" he then asked politely. Alex nodded, admiring the man for his dedication to those rescued. "Of course." "Return to Miranda" Admiral Elaithin Jii Director Jordan Elaithin Commander Dakota Harris Lieutenant Elaithin Aria w/Allison von Ernst -- SHUTTLE BAY -- "Elaithin to bridge," he said, slapping the comm. badge as he disembarked the shuttle. "We're on board. Get us out of here, high warp Dakota -- prearranged coordinates." ["Aye, sir."] "Da--dmiral!" Aria exclaimed, hazel eyes wide in surprised protest. "Did you--" "Not now, Lieutenant," Jii stated. "Commander, take Allison to the guest quarters so she can get cleaned up," he directed his son. "And find her some shoes. You two, stay at guard. No one beyond this room is to know who she is, understand?" The security officers nodded firmly and they hurried Allison out of the shuttle bay as fast as possible before the pint-sized teenager could protest too coherently. When the shuttle bay was all but empty, he turned toward his daughter. He gave her far too much leeway, he knew that. It was something for which he had always been guilty, and it had only gotten worse since Connor died. Aria put on a brave front, but losing a sibling was never easy, and losing a twin was all the more devastating. He couldn't begin to imagine her pain and how much it took to function on anything even close to the level she managed. He knew how difficult it was for him -- for his wife -- but he knew he could never begin to grasp the depths of his daughter's pain and anger. "We're leaving them to die," she said, her voice stony. "We're leaving all of those ships to the wolves and that Hawk Ice Bitch is going to destroy a whole frakin' planet!" "She already has, Aria!" Jii's voice wasn't quite at her level, more stern and firm than it was an elevated shout of any kind. "Earth is gone, even if it's still on the star charts. There is no direct action that we can take, right now, that will fix it. And there's nothing that sticking around and getting blown out of the sky is going to solve. Listen..." He set his hand on her shoulder. "We've been over this, kiddo. There will be a time for a final gambit, but now is not that time." "We're running away, Dad," she growled. "We're leaving those people, our ships -- our people! There was a time you never would have done this, not if there was any chance!" "I'm smarter now," he stated. "Sometimes you need to live to fight another day. If M'Kantu's intelligence is correct -- and we have no reason to doubt it, it brought us straight to her -- that girl may give us the chance to alter the timeline and prevent any of this from happening." She stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief. "You're gambling the fate of the fleet on a teenager's manipulation of TEMPORAL MECHANICS?!" she shouted. "Frak! Dad!" "I've risked more on less, Ari," he said, voice low. "I have to get to the bridge. Go brief your mother." "She's going to be even more pissed than I am." "No, kiddo -- she knows better." -- BRIDGE -- "Status." "No pursuit. Looked like the SHIVA was well occupied kicking her favorite beer can. I initiated jump orders immediately as we went to warp," Commander Dakota Harris said, turning to look at the admiral as he came onto the bridge. The communications officer had come to her place as XO four years earlier upon the death of Rena Starburst. "The planet was already nearing critical, Jii; I don't know how many were able to jump before the explosion." "We'll find out soon enough," he said with a heavy sigh as he dropped himself into the captain's chair and pulled the display around to page through the readouts. "So it's gone then?" "Finally out of its misery," Harris said, obviously attempting to keep the emotion from her voice. He scanned through the reports coming in from all departments in silence, and then nodded. "Alright. Deploy the long-range buoys, continue course to our rendezvous," he said, standing and moving toward the door from the bridge. "Keep tabs on the communications and let me know if anything comes through." "Going to check in sir?" "Mm -- I've waited long enough if I want to keep breathing, Commander." "Yes sir," Dakota said, then paused a moment. "Admiral?" "Commander?" "Should... I wonder if you shouldn't maybe address the crew?" He hesitated a long moment, then nodded. "Ye'up. I will. But they'll wait; she won't." "Aye sir." -- INTELLIGENCE CENTRE -- He expected to find her bent over work, buried in it the way she always was when the bigger-picture got too tough to handle. But instead, she stood in front of her office's usually closed window, looking out over the starscape as she sipped the Bajoran equivalent to brandy and smoked a spice cigarette. It was one of her on-again, off-again vices, something born from two years of temporal displacement in earth's roaring 20s, and he didn't let it bother him anymore. Jii tapped on the open door frame. "Hey," he said. "You heard?" She glanced over her shoulder at him and affirmed with a slow blink before returning her gaze to the window; her eyes, however, watched him through the reflection in the force-field reinforced transparent-aluminum pane. "The pain's stopped," she murmured, voice far away. He noticed, only then, the subtle blue glow of the Oracle's eye around her neck. "You've been pretty quiet of late," he said, slowly approaching, folding his arms as he came to her side. She looked up at him, the ethereal blue light playing stronger against the dark backdrop of her eyes than it had for a long time. "We've had little to say," Oracle replied. "And you've managed fine on your own." She sipped from her glass as she stubbed out the smoldering remains of the cigarette, a slight, sad smile playing across her mouth. "For the most part. You're venturing along a very interesting path, Knight." "Tell me something I don't know," he remarked. "Any special details you want to share?" "No." "Figures." She looked again at him, her eyes smiling along with her lips this time, their hazel coloring bleeding back save for the slight, everlasting trace of Oracle's electric-blue energy. "Haven't seen that for a while," he said. "Strange the timing..." "Earth's really gone?" his wife inquired. "I wasn't misreading anything? Hallucinating? She really did blow it to hell?" "I don't know about hallucinatin', but it's really gone," he said. "You okay?" "Yeah. I'm... fine. It's not surprising, really, and it's been a long time in coming," Jordan said. "I think I'd rather it be gone than for it to continue its suffering under her reign of terror." She cleared her throat. "Though, it's possible it just hasn't sunk in yet." "Let me know if anything changes." "I will." She moved behind her desk, setting the glass there before meeting his gaze again, the professional expression taking over her face. "I take it the mission was a success?" "Daren's info was right on," Jii said. "We'll see." "I'd like to speak to her before we meet up with Galaxy," Jordan said. "Get baseline information before she's too tainted by all the chaos and any inferred information." The admiral nodded firmly. "I figured you'd want to. Toryl's taking care of her now; we'll go down and talk to her after she's had a chance to get cleaned up and changed." "Good," Jordan said, then sighed. "You should know, Husband, your daughter is livid. And she stole a pair of my heels from the back of the closet." Jii snorted. "Why is she always *my* daughter when she's pissed or in trouble?" he asked. "Why can't I get her when she's sweet and happy and doing what she's s'posed to?" "What kind of mother would I be if I didn't claim the good parts?" she asked. "Besides. These days, you're the one who makes her pissed, which is what usually gets her into trouble." "Fair enough." "Toryl okay?" "Seems like." She nodded, relief flickering over her face. She didn't like it when any of them were off the ship, not that he could blame her -- he worried too. There was too much uncertainty, too much room for loss, and they'd lost too much as it was. The anxiety of having them on the ship was bad enough. Jordan sighed and crossed around the desk, wrapping her arms around him and hugging her husband tightly. He matched the pose, brushing a hand through her shoulder-length dark auburn hair with only traces of glimmering silver strands. Her muscles were tight, her body stiff in his embrace, but she was trying to relax. "I love you," she said. "But if you sneak off-ship without telling me again, so help me Jii, I will concoct the type of punishment you can't even begin to imagine." "I'll keep that in mine," he replied, biting back a laugh. "And it won't happen again. Too often." "Seeing June, Part 2"
(Occurs immediately after 'Seeing June, Part 1')
Captain Daren M'Kantu Commander Cutter Kara'nin Lieutenant Shiarrael M'Kantu Dr. Karyn Dallas Captain Artim Shivar
*****
USS Galaxy-E Deck 1 Bridge
"I am not going to die in orbit of this ground walker world," Cutter spat. He stomped over to the tactical display and shooed away the manning officer. "Initiate constant scanning of the planet," he called out as he deleted the tactical display. It was no longer needed. Even though there were plenty of able ships remaining on both sides, the battle was essentially over, and all the ships were slowly disengaging and leaving, as if there was nothing left to fight for. "I need one second temporal, one square meter spatial resolution on the gravimetric distortion mapping sensors, and at least ten cubic meter resolution EM field contour maps."
"What are you doing?" Shiarrael asked, glancing at her father, who was still standing there, eyes on the screen and the ruins of the Earth. That wasn't however, she suddenly understood, what he was seeing at all. His eyes were on a different time, and the face of the woman that had been his wife, not the here and now. He'd surrendered.
The thought panicked her. Her father? Surrendering? Giving up? That... couldn't be He was a rock, a pillar of wisdom and strength, a giant... he was all she had left in the universe.
Cutter ignored her, and instead, searched the computer for a series of files, typing away like a Bynar, hunched over the keypad with his large white wings stretched out behind him.
"Commander!" She tried again to get Cutter's attention. "We need to call for help! It's possible we can beam off some of the crew before the weapon detonates." It's possible that I can save my father, she pleaded with him silently, eyes on his back. Please, please let me do that much.
"If you would let me work, I'm trying to save us all!" the Frun'alin erupted. His wings behind him fanned out wide, increasing his apparent size to daunting proportions.
Shiarrael frowned. It wasn't the first time Cutter had yelled at her like that, but today, here, with her father's life on the line, it was going to be the last. Her hand was already on the phaser at her waist, starting to draw it, when another one reached out and covered it, stopping her. It was an old hand, weaker than hers by far, but still able to halt her in her tracks with but a touch.
Her father's hand.
"Let him try."
The words were quiet, soft, and weak... but they were from her father, and she nodded, releasing the phaser and turning her own hand over to clasp his for a moment, to feel that he was here, with her, and not lost in the past. If he wanted to let Cutter try, then they would try. If it succeeded, they all lived, and if they didn't... then at least they would be together.
During their interaction, the files on the large tactical display had turned to running programs. Lines of data were scrolling up to the ceiling as sensor data flooded in and calculation spit out their answers. "We need to get everyone up to the dorsal decks. We have five minutes," Cutter said, as he darted over to the conn and pushed the rotating console out of the officers hands. "Where are RCS thruster controls?" he demanded of the man.
Shiarrael cast a quick glance at her father - saw his eyes following the XO's movements with interest and life - and spoke up as he met hers, activating the all hands signal on the comm, "All hands, evacuate the lower and mid level decks. Move as quickly as you can to the upper decks. I repeat, this is not a drill. All hands evacuate to the upper decks."
Daren smiled, nodded in approval to his daughter, and moved to the former tactical display, now a large science output screen, and studied Cutter's programs. When he glanced over at his winged first officer, and saw him maneuvering the ship with the station-keeping thrusters, he realized what the avian was trying to do. "Tactical," he barked out, his voice still not back to normal, still tired - but audibly determined and no longer shaky. "Reroute all power to the ventral shields. Take it from weapons, engines, life support, whatever you have."
Shiarrael looked at him in confusion, and he added for her benefit, "We're going to ride the shockwave like a hang glider on a thermal updraft. Or one of those surfers you spent so much time watching when you were younger."
"Or a bird," she said, nodding towards the first officer.
"Brace for impact!" Cutter shouted from the conn as he continued to use the thrusters to slowly maneuver the ship, "In five... four... three..."
Shiarrael launched herself at her father, arms wrapping around him protectively.
"...two... one..."
******
<LNWV Resolved, Bridge>
When they'd gotten close enough to the Sol system to see the carnage going on there, Artim hastily ordered three of the escort ships to pull back with the transports to a safe rendezvous point. At that point the Resolved and the Erdan vessel Glittergold broke off and headed into the Sol system to render aid where possible. Not wanting to risk being fired upon the two small ships hid in the inner reaches of the Asteroid Belt waiting for a chance.
"Commodore, we're picking up strange tectonic readings from Earth. It looks like...oh my..."
"What is it E'kesh? Put them on my console.", Artim replied to the Antedean operations officer. A moment later a sensor display of the Earth's core appeared on the command console to Artim's right. It didn't take the one time science officer long to figure out what was going on. "That monster Von Ernst...she's deployed a tectonic weapon...she's literally trying to blow the Earth apart! E'kesh, any chance of stopping it?"
"No sir, it’s in the final phase. Not like we have the firepower to challenge Shiva anyway. Planetary detonation is imminent. Ten minutes...fifteen tops", the Antedean responded.
"Tactical, are there any ships in the blast zone that can't make it out." , Artim asked frantically
"Only one that we can reach...the Galaxy."
Artim blinked twice in rapid succession. It seemed almost ironic that it was going to come down to Artim to save his old ship. But they had to try.
"Ms. Kwan, signal the Glittergold, we're going after her. I need to know if we have enough tractor power between us to pull her out and then hail the Galaxy. Helm, set an intercept course and use those Erdan upgrades if you need to. We're going to get them. We HAVE to get them. "
But E'kesh's estimate was wrong. It was only two minutes until the planet exploded.
***
The blast wave arrived one ten thousandth of a second later than Cutter had predicted – a matter of some annoyance to the Frun'alin – but for practical purposes indistinguishable from the exact moment he'd predicted. The Galaxy, wounded and crippled as she was, lifted up like a bird as the wave reached them, throwing most of the crew to the deck as she was carried along.
Riding the crest of the blast as the Earth exploded, the ship was tossed from side to side violently, what systems remaining undamaged failing one after another, and the patched-together ones falling back into disrepair in the blink of an eye. Lights winked out, air stopped circulating, consoles simply died without even the power flow needed to explode. Hull plates that had withstood bombardment from the deadliest weapons of the starlanes failed under the stresses, spalling off the ship like leaves falling from a dying tree that had been uprooted by a hurricane and was rolling about like a giant tumbleweed.
The scream of the ship's hull as it twisted under the pressure, trying to find a point of equilibrium, was deafening, drowning out the smaller cries of the crew as they waited for the end, whatever form it might take.
****
"Sir, we don't have long enough to beam them all off. Even with the Glittergold we can't get within range in time to get everyone out. We should break off!", E'keth was a bit annoyed that his estimates were wrong. He hated to watch people die too but there wasn't anything they could do...or so they thought.
"I got an idea." Artim shouted. "Tractor beams. If we and the Glittergold get on either side we should be able to hold the Galaxy together. She might not survive the shockwave, but we can hold her together long enough to get the crew off at least. Will the EPM relays hold if we divert warp power to the tractor beams?"
"Yeah, and the Glittergold's are way better than ours. But...never mind." E'keth knew that Artim wasn't likely going to back off on this when he realized this was his old ship. "Diverting power now"
"Ms. Kwan, the Galaxy if you would please..." Artim replied
"She's coming through now. And the Glittergold is moving into position"
****
"Incoming message," sang out the Ops Officer, able to see the signal only because his console and the Helm console Cutter was using to try and keep the Galaxy on the crest of the pressure wave shared power. "I can't make it all out but…."
"Put it on speaker," Daren ordered, voice muffled by his daughter's body as she held him to the deck, cushioning his body with hers.
"Captain, wish I had time to catch up but I don't. I have two ships that are going to use tractor beams that are going to stabilize the Galaxy long enough for us to beam your crew off. We might be able to save your ship but my engineers doubt it." Artim spoke clearly and calmly while gesturing to his own crew.
Daren blinked. Artim? He hadn't spoken to the diminutive officer since… no, no time for that now. "Cutter – will it work?"
"Probably not," Cutter said immediately. Which meant, Daren had learned, that yes, indeed it might, but Cutter hadn't had time yet to check the calculations and find a way to take credit for it himself.
With a nod, Daren decided. Galaxy had been a good ship, but she wasn't worth all the lives aboard her. "We'll chance it anyway – the ship's not going to take much more of this. Get me Sickbay."
The call caught Karyn in the middle of surgery, the last of the immediately endangered crewmen awaiting treatment on her table. Even given the horrifying gyrations of the ship, she was determined not to lose anyone that could be saved, and had had herself literally strapped to the table with her patient to ensure that happened."Please tell me that we're not about to have more casualties. "Yes?" she asked, frowning down at her work.
"Karyn," Daren began without preamble. "We have friends that are going to beam the crew off…" the Galaxy shook again under the strain "…I want them to start there. Are you able to transfer at this time?"
"Definitely!" Karyn replied, without even looking up from the Bolian she was operating on. "Start with the outer wards and work in – I'll have the last of them stabilized when you're ready!"
As the ship shook again, Daren replied, "Good." Turning his attention to Ops, he nodded and was switched back on speaker to their rescuers. "Start in Sickbay if you please, Artim."
"Gotcha sir...", Artim couldn't help but call Darren sir even though he no longer served under him. "We'll be focusing on the upper saucer, the Erdans will focus on the ventral section. Starting beamouts...now. Tractor beams! Engage!"
A familiar series of blue beams of energy leapt forth from the much smaller Resolved and were joined soon after by a purple beam from the Glittergold. The Steamrunner started shaking a bit as the strain of holding the much larger ship together started taking its toll but they were holding together just fine. And frankly, if it all failed, it was only the Galaxy and her crew that would suffer for it.
Shuddering and wailing, the Galaxy held on as long as she could, and then, at the point where she should have broken up, where she should have surrendered… she didn't. At her limit, battered and beaten, the ship seemed to gather in on herself, drawing strength from the crew that waited patiently for their turn to transport, from the men and women and neither that stood at their posts, waiting on the off-chance that they could do something – anything – to help buy even one more minute for evacuation, from the crew that stood on the Bridge, waiting until the end, until the last transport to leave her.
The Galaxy would not fail them, would not allow them to fail, as her elder sisters had not failed, or allowed their crews to fail, stretching back over a century and more. She was proud, Galaxy was, of a proud line, and she would not fail. No Galaxy had ever failed, not even, she knew in her ship's soul, her most recently lost sister.
No Galaxy would ever fail.
Never.
Never.
Never.
So, as the crews of the Resolved and the Glittergold struggled to hold Galaxy together, as they beamed her crew off to safety, she held.
Never.
Never.
Until the last transporter beam was switched on, and the last handful of her crew was safely away.
Then, and only then did the Galaxy, fifth ship of her illustrious line, surrender and, with a cry that was as much joy as the tearing of structural metal and stanchions, let go and hurl herself outward into space in a million, million pieces to join her sisters among the stars.
The Galaxy never fails those who love her.
****
Resolved Bridge
Daren watched as his ship died, her hull caving in under the pressures as the Resolve and the Glittergold broke free and outran the wave of death that had been the Earth, her corridors and rooms failing and tearing apart, until she was a cloud of glittering white metal that was swept along in the blast like a cloud of fireflies.
Only when she was lost to sight among the stars that were now her home, did he turn and nod in thanks to the slight figure that had stood and watched in silence with him and his Bridge crew. "Captain Shivar… thank you," he said quietly.
"You're welcome sir...sorry, can't help but call you that.", Artim smiled slightly when he saw M'Kantu with his own eyes again. While Artim probably looked more or less the same as when they last met it was clear time and war had taken its toll. Same with his one-time intellectual rival Cutter whom he turned to address next his smile even wider to indicate there were no remaining hard feelings. "By the way Cutter, we're even now."
"Artim," the avian nodded curtly, and then wondered off to the back of the bridge.
There was a moment more silence, and then Daren took a breath, smiled at his daughter, and drew himself up, determined not to fail the ship that had not failed him. He would see June another day – now… now there were things to do, and places he needed to be. "Captain," he said with strength borrowed from the ship that he'd commanded, "Might I trouble you for a ride to the Miranda?" “Changes”
(Takes place a week after ‘Seeing June, part 2’)
Captain Daren M’Kantu Lieutenant Shiarrael M’Kantu Commander Cutter Kara’nin Admiral Elaithin Jii Lieutenant Elaithin Aria Jordan Elaithin Allison von Ernst
****
"They're this way, sir," the young woman said as she led them through the corridors of the mighty Miranda.
Jii's daughter.
Daren M'Kantu looked over at his own daughter as she walked next to him, making an effort to keep her pace slow so he wouldn't fall behind. Military starships today had become like the cargo freighters of the early warp days - family-run businesses.
He found himself wondering how much longer it would be before that idea spread, and the ships that flew the stars became microcosmic feudal kingdoms, with command passed down from generation to generation, always staying in the same family. Would he live to see that? Did he want to, considering that when it happened the Federation that he'd fought for, lived his life for, and was prepared to die for, would be gone and the long, dark night would have finally arrived.
That wasn't the future that he wanted for Shiarrael. It wasn't the future that her mother, or June, would have wanted for her either. For the seventy-second time that day, he wished that June was still here, that he could speak to her again. She'd know what to say to Shiarrael, how to explain to her that she needed to relax more, to not become the sleek, silent killing machine that she'd made herself into to protect him.
Or perhaps not, he admitted, eyes returning to the daughter of his old friend. Jordan certainly hadn't managed to find those words to change her daughter. Perhaps that was, indeed, the legacy that he and Jii and the rest were leaving to their children. An eternal war that made them into killing machines driven by an ideology that they followed more out of out of loyalty to their parents than any personal belief.
He looked over at his first officer, Cutter, the man who pretended to have no family of any sort at all. Daren wondered when was the last time the avian had talked to any of his friends back on his home world - Arkedi and Zan, if Daren recalled their names correctly. He wondered when the last time was Cutter had talked to his son.
"Have you," he spoke up quietly, "checked on your home world recently, Cutter?"
Cutter cast him a curious glance, trying to determine the meaning of the question. "They're fine," he shrugged, which meant no, he hadn't talked to them in some time.
"Through here," Elaithin Aria said suddenly, glancing back over her shoulder as she made a sharp right into an alcove where they paused at a small, inconspicuous door. She commanded it to open through quick, graceful strikes at the wall keypad and ushered M'Kantu and his officers inside. She sized herself up with M'Kantu's half Romulan daughter as she passed, her grey-blue eyes narrowed slightly.
"Admiral," Daren nodded to the far younger Bajoran.
Jii returned the slight, greeting nod. "Daren."
The Miranda's commanding officer didn't look like he'd had so much as a wink of sleep in the past two or three days. His age wore deep around the corners of his eyes and his broad shoulders were a little slumped. Still, the large Bajoran's expression shone with a glitter of guarded hope at the unspoken promise this girl proffered. If they played their cards right, they might be able to prevent this from ever happening. Literally, they could turn back the clock. Allison was the key: she not only had some method of returning to the past, she clearly was part of the bigger picture.
"It's good to see you in one piece, my friend," Jii said. "That was a tight one, back there."
"That's her?" Cutter asked, approaching the large viewscreen on the wall. It was displaying live video feed from the quarters next door.
"Seems like. Do you recognize her?" Jii asked.
"I didn't know her," Cutter answered matter-of-factly. Then, after a pause, "I don't see the resemblance."
Daren studied the girl in the viewscreen and searched his memories for a different, brighter day in the past.
"I recognize her," he decided carefully. "At least, I believe so. If it isn't her, it's someone that certainly matches my memories. I think she was... brighter then, though. More color to her hair and her nails."
"She's still moping about the clothes," Aria said. "Which are, apparently, even worse than, like, cotton-blend." She mocked the teenager's speech pattern in a stilted attempt.
"Ariane," Jii snapped, using the Bajoran formal of her name. The young lieutenant's jaw tensed, face dropping a moment, cheek s shining with a brief flush. "That girl's been through a special hell that she can't even begin to understand."
"So have we all," Aria said, recovering from her paternal dressing-down before then looking toward M'Kantu. "Picture her in a pink-glitter cocktail dress of Andorian silk, if that's useful," Aria said, casting a glance at her father. "I'm just trying to help his memory, Dad."
"Daren's exact recognition or not," the soft, even voice of Jordan Elaithin said form the back of the room, "as I was telling Jii before you all came in, I've finished resurrecting the Galaxy-D's intelligence records and temporal reports. While can't be a hundred percent confident, of course, the details all seem to add up. Whatever else might be said about Kreighoff, he kept very precise logs. Her story checks out, for whatever it's worth."
"I'd like to see those when we're done here," Jii said.
"I'll send a report around," Jordan stated; her eyes shifted toward her daughter, gaze communicating with her wordlessly. Aria turned her head away, looking back toward the monitor, though her expression remained tight. "Daren, I was wondering if you might be able to speak with her," Jordan said. "Neither of us have gotten very far. She finds me creepy," the Director said the word with a tinge of sardonic bemusement, "and she doesn't seem to trust Jii. I'm hoping that a friendly face, someone she may recognize could get her talking. I'd really like to see how much she knows and my kid-gloves are a little rusty."
“I’ll… try,” Daren agreed. “I don’t think that mine have totally rusted yet.
****
Daren stepped into the quarters, letting the doors shut behind him. They were nice quarters. As clean and beautiful as one could find nowadays. The furniture had a waxed polish, the fabrics were bright and their colors vivid. There were even plants, thriving quietly in the corners. It was almost painful, in a way, given the state of ships these days, for Daren to see this and feel the innate rightness of it, to know that this is what ships *should* be like, and to also know that the reality was that they weren’t, and might never be again.
And then there was her. She looked up at him as he entered.
"Hello Allison," Daren said. "Do you remember me?"
If the strangled cry of relief and the desperate bear hug wasn't an answer nothing would be.
"Oh Uncle Darren!" Alli sobbed into his shoulder, "At last a familiar face! These animals have been keeping me locked up like some sort of prisoner." she stuck her tongue out at the guards. "Now you guys are gonna get it."
Wiping away a tear, Alli struggled to explain everything that had happened to her since yesterday afternoon.
"…..and people were shooting at me, and the dust was all ickey, and hel-lo I ruined my new shoes….but most of all nobody will let me make a phone call." she glared at the guards again, "Please Uncle Daren, I really need to let Mom know I'm okay…she'll be worried when I don't come out of the time warp-thingy where I was supposed to. "
Daren looked at the girl hugging him, the tears in her eyes… and knew that this wasn’t a lie, wasn’t a scam of some kind by a Hawk intelligence group.
And because he knew, and knew what he was about to do, he cried with her.
==========================
"Well?" Cutter asked as the doors shut behind M'Kantu. He and the others were waiting to hear what had happened.
"It's her."
"And?"
"She was trying to return home.” Daren sighed and closed his eyes for a minute, as if that could wipe away the memory of the light dying in Allison’s eyes as he had explained that her world was… gone. “Home to here. To 2402. Her mother, Rebecca Von Ernst, had given her a shuttle and plotted a slingshot path around a black hole so that she could travel backwards in time to meet her father, James Corgan, and then return forward in time," Daren explained as Cutter's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the singularity. "She’d returned to the past, met her father, and found him to be… lacking… so she determined to return home and enlisted Victor Krieghoff’s help to do so. But, something went wrong and she woke up on Earth, in Hawksley Industries, instead of in orbit around the singularity she was using to travel forward. And she's certain that this is not the place she left."
"From where did she leave?" Shiarrael asked.
"A different Universe if her descriptions are accurate. Very different. There was no civil war. The Federation still existed, and was thriving. The war with the Triad had ended long ago. June was still alive. Rebecca was a farmer, in Iceland," Daren explained, making his way to a seat and settling into it. Cutter snorted loudly at the bit about Von Ernst, the mighty and fearsome red skeleton of death, a farmer in Iceland. "And, Cutter, you were one of her uncles, along with Victor Krieghoff."
Cutter's derisive snarl immediately faded. "What?" he asked, insulted.
“You were her uncle; part of her adopted extended family,” Daren clarified. “She described a Christmas where you seemed like an angel to her child’s eyes as you stood by the tree on her mother’s farm. And she remembers Victor Krieghoff saving her from drowning in an ice-covered lake as a child… and forbidding her to die. And he and his family visiting frequently; a different family than the one he has now, with children that were biologically his.” He sighed. “She remembers too much, I think, for it to be a lie. There’s too much detail, it’s too rich, too realized… I watched her die as I explained that this was not her home, watched her life bleed away until she was an empty shell. She was never an actress… no one is to that degree.” Shaking his head, he added, “Allah knows I’m not, because part of me died in there with her.”
No one said anything after that. Cutter folded his arms and fluttered his wings as he stomped off alone into a corner. Jii and Jordan shared a brief look before simultaneously casting their gaze to their daughter. Shiarrael stepped towards her father, but then stopped and gave the elder his moment alone. And Daren M'Kantu simply stared quietly down at his hands. There was an unofficial, but seemingly necessary moment of silence as they all thought about the world that once was and the world that could have been.
"So... What now?" Aria asked.
Daren took a long breath as he made up his mind. This future was a horror, a nightmare, and he’d had his fill of it. Friends, family… June… and now Earth itself? Any risk was better than living here, now. "We change it."
Cutter turned his head sharply. "Change it?" Cutter asked, "Change what?"
“Everything.” Daren said, his voice firmer, stronger, that of the man he’d been twenty years before when he’d stood on the decks of the Enterprise-D. The voice of a man that knew what he was doing and what he was going to do again. “We change everything. Somewhere, at some point, something happened – maybe more than one thing – to change things from the way they were supposed to be. So we research things, we find where all of this went wrong, where her future of light became our future of despair… and we fix it.” He looked up, his eyes no longer tired. “We change it and give her back her life… and give ourselves the one that should have been.”
"You want to go back in time?" Cutter asked, shocked.
"Yes," Daren stood. "And we're going to need help." "Old Aquaintances Part 2" Th'Khiss K'aa ==U'caanu Shipyards, S'sgarnon Prime== For a moment, K'aa looked down at Janeen with a sad look to his eyes "Thissss changesss everything." Janeen let out a sad, heavy sigh. "Now you know... just how bad it is. "Inssssufficient data for prime projection", the Gorn drawled, his "USS Cleveland," Janeen replied, "An Intrepid class. We've been on Slowly, K'aa opened his leathery eyelids and looked up at his myriad mathematics. "Hnnn... let'sss hope it containsss ssome of the more Janeen began to walk in small circles racking her brains for any piece The Lord of the Red Crest looked down from the large viewscreen to Janeen winced at the thought but it quickly faded and her expression "I concur," Terrence added with a grim, determined tone. "Very well", K'aa growled, and leaning over he took a small isolinnear Janeen took the chip and stared at it like it was the Holy Grail. "We "Math?!" Terrence nearly shouted, "That's it!" The outburst instantly had every Gorn in the area on his feet and Janeen regarded the younger man curiously, "Yes, it is. Terry? Are you Terrence shook his head to clear it. He pointed to K'aa's calculations Janeen nodded slowly, "Right." "We just have to give her a problem with no plottable answer," Janeen blinked in astonishment, "I think that's the smartest thing "Hmmm.... tricky", K'aaa rhumbled. "It would have to be an emotional Janeen's brow furrowed in thought. "All we know at this point is a Terrence continued, "There was speculation it was a weapon or some Janeen picked up again, "I'm betting it was something of a personal Terrence was quiet a moment in his own thoughts. Then, he dared speak, The question caused the Gorn to retract his upper lip slowly from his "Well, all I'm saying is, one of the few things throughout history "Not while she wasss on board the Galaxy", K'aa replied. "There were "Yes," Janeen agreed, "You would, 'but' if you knew they were on an "That 'would' be the logical course of action," Terrence added unnecessarily. K'aa nodded, and the drumming increassed in tempo and volume. "Logic "Perhaps... we should call Elaithin and ask him?" Janeen suggested. "Whoa, wait a minute," Terrence protested, "Your brother said we "Terry," Janeen spun to her companion, "With the Earth gone, I think Terrence folded his hands behind his back. "All right. Fine." Janeen turned back to K'aa. "Can your comm array put us in touch with "Urrchaad saii'coou 'Miranda' ecoooul 'Elaithin'", the Gorn barked in "Indeed it should," Janeen answered reminiscing about her posting K'aa nodded affirmative and Janeen started up the protocols for "The Raven Returns..." The dark hull of the Defiant Class vessel stalked its prey under cloak. The woman in the command chair watched the view screen as the Refitted Nebula Class USS Trafalgar made its course for Vulcan. She had been dead once...and this war was now her thirst quencher for that death so many years ago on Capella Four. Yet, her heart held a special place for one man--that was Commander Man'darr Maivia--her brother, who was now a prisoner aboard that ship. If Colonel London wanted to turn this war personal, she would happily oblige her. She and the all Capellan crew of the USS Capella had made a vicious name for themselves, killing any Doves that dared to cross their paths. Although Capellans were officially neutral, they supported the Hawk faction and in a special gift to show their appreciation, the Hawk Faction with approval from the High Teer, put together the only all Capellan crew of the USS Capella and had named Jill Maivia her captain. She thought back to the day she had been reborn into this universe. It was a cloning laboratory...they had initially refused to tell her the location after she had emerged from the cloning tube. She remembered the day she had died...she was cloned because she was Capellan...because the Hawk Faction, at first, wanted a clone army--a Capellan Army. The initial rejection by her brother had hurt her deeply--yet he had forgiven her and now embraced her fully as his sister. And she was damned if she was going to let that bitch, Colonel London take her brother from her. Family was everything to her--the only thing that mattered. Now, she was back...Raven was back and there would be hell to be paid this day. "Prepare to drop the cloak once we receive the signal from the operative aboard the Trafalgar." "Aye, captain," replied the large capellan male manning Tactical. “Jumping Tracks...” Star Captain Le’on Khatowren Commanding Officer, USS Righteous ========== Conference Room – Deck 1 Le’on stood at the far end of the conference table that was reserved for the captain of the ship. His tail swished back and forth off of the table edge as he looked at the oversized PADD in his paws. He got there first just so that he could review High Command’s plans for them and then figure out how he was going to lay it out for his commanders. Some of his men came in groups, others straggled in by themselves. But everyone was there more or less on time. He rapped a paw on the table to get the meeting started. “Sorry to drag you all away from your ships, but this needed everyone here. High Command has ordered us to attempt to get allies in this conflict now that we’ve shown our paws to the universe and we have a nice tall order to fill in such a short time.” “So how are we going to do that with four ships that are pretty banged up Comrade Captain?” Salem, who was now the acting Commander of the Days of Thunder asked first. “I’ve reviewed the orders that you sent out for us all to look at and we can’t even go home first to get repaired and refitted?” Right to the point, as usual, Le’on thought. “Then we find our first ally who will give us such repairs.” He stated plainly. “Then we can split off and acquire allies rapidly on our own. “You know Comrade,” Ramseys, Commander of the Cat’s Talon said. He was looking at the starmap on his PADD intently. “We are close to one possibility who has adequate repair facilities.” He said. “A people called Gorn...” “Nyet...” Le’on said flatly. “Gorn?” a black cat named Ocho, Executive Officer of the Cat’s Claw asked. “Where have I heard that name from?” “You know, that is the race of which Comrade Star Captain has a friend with.” His direct Commander, a calico by the name of Patches supplied. “If you could call that miserable lizard a friend...” Le’on grumbled. And that’s when the comments from the peanut gallery started. Le’on’s little prank war with the Gorn named K’aa was famous around Cattus. “Didn’t he drop you into an ocean before?” “Nah, I heard that it was a catapult...” “You both are wrong, I heard that it was quicksand...” “Heck, I’d like to meet this Gorn who can make him play with a ball of yarn...” ”ENOUGH!” Le’on howled, bringing the meeting back to order. “We are not here to discuss Th’Kiss K’aa and his little fetish of dropping me in various items designed to chuck cats long distances...” he said, glaring at his people. “Nor am I inclined to go within a parsec of his home just so that he can have opportunity to do it again.” “But Comrade Captain...” Ocho said, trying to conceal a grin. “Nyet.” “They are close.” Patches said. “Nyet.” “And they have the facilities large enough to supply this ship and all of our remaining ones.” Ramseys said. “Nyet.” “All at the same time.” Salem put in. “NYET!” he howled again. But then he caved at the various looks from around the table; all of which ranged from curious to disdainful. He sighed. “Alright Comrades...” he said. He hated caving but they all did have a point. “We will go to Gorn and try there first. Then we will split up from there depending on how things go. I’ll transfer the flag back to the Days of Thunder, we’ll send a prize crew back to Cattus with the Righteous, and we’ll agree on two other targets at that time. Is that satisfactory to you all?” he asked. There were nods all around. “Fine. And so help me, if I end up the butt end of one of his jokes while we are there, I will have all of your miserable hides mounted on my wall. Understood?” More nods “Good... Now get out.” "Guess who's coming to dinner..." Th'Kiss K'aa Le'on Khatowren ========== Inbound, Gorn System This was the moment that Le'on had been dreading for decades. He knew two things as the planet of Gorn came into view; one, he was under orders to be here. And two, he needed to be here if anything else to repair his remaining ships. He knew that lizard would be here somewhere. If he was very lucky (and if he was a good kitten in a past life), the bane of his existence would have been tossed into the nearest stellar object. However, Le'on knew that he wasn't that lucky... He motioned for his communications officer to open a channel as he cleared his throat. "This is Star Captain Le'on Khatowren, Commanding Officer of Cattusian Task Fleet Harpoon and diplomatic envoy to the Gorn." He said, knowing deep down that there was either a body of water or some other practical joke in his future. Needless to say, their little practical joke war had been going on for quite some time now. Le'on had no clue who was even winning between them anymore. The bridge crew collectively jumped when the main viewscreen was suddenly filled with rows of reptilian fangs, and two large golden eyes above a broad snout. [Khatowren], the large reptilian hisssed. [You're alive. Hmmm.. hadn't calculated that. I thought for certain Von Ernssst would have sssent you to the litter-box of the Caitian afterlife.] The reptilian didn't sound terrible pleased. [I wonder where I went wrong.] Le'on wasn't fazed in the least little bit, despite the jittery crew around him. "As usual you underestimate me in your calculations. Much like you did with that little quicksand box incident of yours." He said plainly. "And here I figured that your people would've tarred and feathered you by now and punted your sorry carcass toward the Sirian Homeworld. Makes me wonder where I went wrong myself." The scale-laden image's throat-bag inflated as Th"Khiss K'aa gave a throaty, croaking laugh. [Well... it wasssn't asss if they didn't try. Well met, Le'on. What bringssss you to the S'sgarnon ssyssstem?] "Repairs and diplomatic mission." Le'on said. He heard the audible sighs of relief around the bridge when they realized that their CO wasn't going to be Gorn Lunch. "As you pointed out Comrade, Von Ernst did try to send us to kitty heaven. My remaining ships could use what repairs we can obtain and I've been ordered to meet with your government, I.E you, and propose diplomatic relations." The large head nodded slowly, weighing the Caitian's words. [We may talk over sssome libation... White Russiansss, wasssn't it? Hrnnn.. yesss... there are a few thingsss we should sspeak of, and perhapsss we can come to an 'arrangement'. Alter your courssse to zero one five mark one ssseven zero and approach at one-eights lightssspeed. Prepare everything you can give me about the Shiva'sss recent activitiesss and the doingsss of Von Ernssst'ss fleet. My... asssociatesss would be interesssted in what they may reveal.] Le'on nodded his head to the acting XO of the Righteous to carry out the navigational orders. "Gladly." Le'on said. "We've obtained a lot of tactical data on Von Ernst's fleet and those weapons she was using." He said. "I also have my people crawling all over the computer core extracting all the information on the Hawk Fleet that they can get their claws on. I'll have a full report for you by the time we dock." [And and a favor, Le'on], K'aa added uncharacteristically. [Wheedle any favor you may have with any old contact passst or presssent that may have had dealingsss with Von Ernsst - professionally or persssonally. I want dirt - her likesss and dislikess, all the way down to the sspecies of mint usssed in her damned milkshakess. Any information you can dig up would be ussseful... especially the persssonal intel.] "Will do K'aa." Le'on said as he started racking his kitty brain for any possible contacts that he still knew. "I'll see you when we arrive. Khatowren out."
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