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Cptn d'Ka

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About Cptn d'Ka

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    Captain, USS Missouri
    Starfleet Border Patrol
  1. Truth and Danger Captain Chirakis Captain d’Ka According to medical and psychological research, the ordinary human brain is typically able to process and contain 7 bits of information at a time. According to Starfleet Medical, the mental capacity to absorb and process varies with the species. For instance, Vulcans are typically able to absorb and process more, whereas Pakleds typically absorb and process less. These estimates are based on the premise that most humanoid brains have some similarity. Most, but not all. Because of their reclusive nature, only one Sindarin has been examined. At the beginning of the Joint Treaty between Sindar and the United Federation of Planets, the Sindarin Council allowed one of their best and most qualified to join Starfleet. The result of his mandatory physical examination was astonishing, and was instantly classified TS-C, Top Secret, Compartmentalized. To say that the Sindar are highly intelligent would be an understatement. Physicians discovered that his brain capacity was literally incalculable. His thought patterns were so varied they were difficult to track, and his ability to project telepathically was initially cause for alarm. And yet, that one Starfleet officer, Je’rit d'Ka, Captain of USS Missouri, hardly compared to the beings presently in Aegis space. Captain d’Ka sat at the desk in security’s main office, his eyes closed and his hands relaxed on her desk. Kirel sat on the opposite side, keeping a close watch on her bondmate. As soon as the alien left, d’Ka allowed the flow of information to take semi-control of his thoughts. The amount of dumped information was unbelievably beyond the norm, so he allowed a few segments at a time to emerge and process. Occasionally, he spoke, giving Kirel snippets of information—for what reason, he did not know. “They call themselves ‘Dahlem’ in Federation standard,” he said eventually, and opened his eyes, now a deep blue, his interest shifting to her. “The transfer of information had several components, one of which was the triangle. The being was male. He needed telepaths to communicate, and decided to use Dr. Sandero and me. Why a triangle? I do not know, and he was not forthcoming. And….” His voice trailed off. He leaned back, brows slightly furrowed. “Kh’éile, he needed me to keep Dr. Sandero at a discreet distance. If she had been alone, or with another telepath with similar ability, those two could have created the triangle. However, at least one of them, if not both, would have died under the strain.” “And you furnished the proper receptacle,” she replied flatly. “Thankfully, yes.” They sat in a moment of silence before he glanced toward her private bar. “Enl’licdh ‘a, Kirel?” “I do,” she said simply as she stood to approach the bar. “How much?” “Enough to get through the next few hours,” he sighed, “and to formulate a report.” After tossing a look over her shoulder, she resealed the half-empty bottle and opened a larger one, retrieved two glasses, and set them on her desk, next to him. Enl’licdh ‘a, a Sindar brandy, is a derivative of a powerful aphrodisiac. It triggers the opposite of its original purpose, furnishing focus and clear thinking. D’Ka would need it for the next few hours, and possibly more.
  2. The Void USS Missouri, 1800 Hours Captain Je’rit D’Ka Commander Lei’ri “It is in the dark, not the light, that a candle shines the brightest.” ― Matshona Dhliwayo Executive Officer Lei'ri knew better than to disrupt his captain's thoughts, but he was bound in duty to watch his captain. Captain d’Ka called him “his watchdog” for various reasons. The commander’s Qr’var senses, though not telepathic, related to the captain’s in a way neither of them understood, but both recognized. So Lei’ri watched, and what he saw puzzled him. Captain d'Ka had been standing by OPS and staring at the main viewscreen for well over an hour. His eyes had slowly turned to a deep blue-black: a sign of concentration. When the alien ship appeared: massive, imposing, and dwarfing USS Missouri, perimeter alarms blared from the bridge to the fighter decks, accompanied by General Quarters. Bridge personnel initially froze, then scrambled to GQ. Captain d’Ka continued to stare at the viewscreen. Commander Lei’ri bolted from his chair to stand beside the captain. “Keann-aí?”* “No need to be alarmed, ‘Ri,” d’Ka replied, holding up a restraining hand as he moved toward his readyroom. “Mr. Sojek, do not arm weapons. Mr. Tan, stand down General Quarters. Commander Stevenson, you have the conn. Commander Lei’ri, with me.” Acknowledgements faded as the readyroom door closed behind them. “Stand to my left and slightly behind me, ‘Ri. Do not speak.” Less than a minute later, a humanoid, approximately 7 feet tall appeared. It was wrapped completely in thin athletic-type clothing. It stood there for a moment, then removed its hood and nodded, its hands spread palms-up. D’Ka mirrored the move. Lei’ri watched, curious, but unable to make sense of the situation. Eventually, the being reached into a pocket to retrieve a piece of metal, handed it to Captain d’Ka, replaced its hood, then vanished. Captain d’Ka stood in silence, inhaled deeply, then relaxed. “Apologies, Captain, but were you communicating telepathically?” Lei’ri asked. “Not entirely, ‘Ri. They are a very different species. Their telepathy is on a different level than mine—or any other for that matter. It is more a feeling than hearing.” He handed the piece of metal to Lei’ri. “A feeling?” he said, taking the piece in hand. “Difficult to explain. Like…. a sensation? What some humans call a ‘gut’ feeling, but more than that.” He pointed to the metal. The metal was fairly heavy as he hefted it in his hand. It was bent and tarnished, perhaps from an explosion. Then he turned it over. The inscription read, “USS Vladivostok NCC 605.” —————————————— *Keann-aí - the respectful Sindar word for Captain.
  3. After the Storm Je’rit D’Ka & Chirakis Kirel Je’rit d’Ka lifted his arm carefully away from his bondmate and slid easily from between the sheets, being careful not to wake her. He was glad that she slept well in the few hours of rest that they were given. He knew her need, but it had little to do with their bond. It didn't take a telepath to see the exhaustion of the entire crew. The rogue Vulcan, V’Mal, had managed to psychically dissect more than one brain in his effort to force Aegis into compliance. Given the amount of psychic venom the Vulcan spat out, everyone had to have been affected. Thankfully, no one was permanently damaged, but he doubted that they would ever forget. As Kirel’s bondmate, d’Ka had the luxury of helping her move past the pain and regain control of her thoughts. Knowing full well that he was going beyond normal bounds as they joined in the few hours allowed, he also knew that she was thankful. Of course she would have known even if they were parsecs away. Such was her power to him. Such was his power to all sentient beings. Sindar telepathy has no bounds. Their scientists call it preservation of the species. Their Elders call it a blessing and a curse. They believe that the Creator endowed the species with a connection that could not be broken, a code that bound them to both the Creator and to one another. Whether it was a blessing or a curse mattered little, except when one was caught between the two. Such was the situation ten years ago, on a small, barren planet deep within the Zengani System. ******** Starfleet Lieutenant Jer’it d’Ka was trapped in a wasteland of indecision as he stared into the darkness of a cave, his image silhouetted against a full moon. His uniform was worn thin. His silver hair, normally cropped to regulation, draped to his shoulders and covered delicately pointed ears that heard everything. Sometimes they heard too much. Inside the cave, almost a hundred meters below, a young Bajoran intelligence officer hunched over a hydration unit and awaited his arrival. He could not see her, but he could feel her, hear her every breath, sense her every mood. Did she know of his telepathy? He hoped not, but chances were that she did, given a starship crew’s ability to spread word of everything from the critical to the mundane. A swift, surgical strike against their small Starfleet reconnaissance force had separated her craft and his from the fleet and caused them to crash. They counted themselves fortunate to have lived, because many others did not. So far, he and this young Bajoran had survived two months, three days, seven hours, and…. It seemed an eternity. Emergency supplies salvaged from her disabled fighter and his runabout had kept them alive. Insects, reptiles, and a few other creatures that survived the planet’s savage nature hid during the day, but became fair game for any predator after sunset. Tonight, he was the predator. Several species of insect and arachnids squirmed in his satchel. They were high in protein and needed for survival. She would be glad to have them. Except for the insignia, the Bajoran’s distinctive black uniform of Starfleet Intelligence Division 5 blended perfectly with the cave’s darkness. He felt her. He also felt the darkness closing in, drawing her closer than propriety allowed. She was forthright and dynamic, a true warrior like the warrior women of Sindar. Her every movement was purposeful, and her eyes flashed in anger if he showed any sign of weakness. Yet, she could be quiet and contemplative, though not often. She shared little, but the little she shared was revealing enough. If she felt him, she did not reveal it. There was no reason that she should, and within her small world of SI-5, if there was no reason to share, one did not. Not sharing gave her an advantage over the enemy. “There is a bond forming between us,” d’Ka had warned after their first month of isolation. She did not understand, neither did she care. “If Starfleet does not find us soon, our extended proximity and this situation could become more than you or I intend.” She still did not understand, treating it more as an idle threat than reality. “If your telepathy is as powerful as you say it is,” she countered, “then why don’t you just call for help?” “Something, or someone, is blocking it,” he explained. “I suspect it is the species that attacked us, and I also suspect that they are hunting us. Therefore, I must guard my thoughts.” She remained indifferent. As the days passed, he explained everything in more detail: how they might become one entity, closer than what Terrans called husband and wife, that they might be bound to each other for life. But he did not explain the exact depth of their bond, reasoning that if she did not understand the simple, she would not understand the complex. Later on he would count his assumption a grave mistake. “You fear we might become close?” She had scoffed, eyes narrowed. “Fear is for the weak. Determination and purpose is for the strong.” At the mouth of the cave, his sharp rap—stone against stone—echoed from the cave’s entrance to their camp, far below. Soon, it elicited the prearranged response, and he proceeded down the pebbled cave floor, stepping carefully, easing himself along narrow paths that framed sudden drops of several thousand meters. Though dangerous, the paths served as protection from intruders, and they used them as such by pitching their camp beyond. “More creatures,” he said as he approached, “edible… spiders I believe you call them, a snake that appears venomous—proceed with caution—and,” he held up a bottle, “a bottle of wine I found buried in the debris of the runabout. Strange that it survived, but it did, and that is all that matters.” Several large red and black streaked arachnids clacked their mandibles and scampered up his arm when he drew them from the satchel, but a quick swipe tossed them into a killing jar before he sealed the lid. Their merciful death would come soon. That it was merciful was important to him. She was indifferent. Having been a slave for the first 12 years of her life, she was only concerned with their protein content. Beyond that, their death mattered little. “The hydration unit works well within the cave,” he continued, settling onto a rock next to her. “Humidity is higher,” Kirel replied listlessly, lifting the container, now full. “It’s even higher farther down. I haven’t found the source of the water yet. You might have to dig for it.” She nodded toward a white, lobster-like creature that thrashed against a container next to her. “They live down there. You won’t be able to eat it.” She coughed, then cleared her throat as she handed him a small cup of water. D’Ka’s hand shot to her wrist, overturning the cup. His eyes flashed red as he examined an area of torn flesh the size of the creature’s claw. It was swollen, purple, and oozed a heavy green, putrid pus that dripped down her arm. A bandage she had apparently applied could no longer contain the injury, and had begun to constrict the blood flow. “You have been poisoned.” “Yes,” she said, turning into the artificial light. “And the antivenin does not work.” “When did this happen?” “I’m not sure. About... ten minutes ago? Maybe longer?” Her words came slowly, forced with great effort as she struggled to breathe. Her hand lay limp in his. His free hand took hold of her jaw, turning her face to examine her eyes. The characteristic fire was gone, her pupils dilated. He tugged at her uniform collar to pull it away from her neck, then released the snap to check her chest and back. “Your eyes are bloodshot. There is a rash on your neck and back. Your tongue is swelling. Soon your throat will close.” She said nothing. Her chest heaved, and she sank against the cave wall. He fought against a growing panic. There was nothing in their medical supplies that would counter the poison, but he searched anyway. He knew that no lancing, no application, no medication could possibly help. There was only one solution, and he grasped it, willingly, reasoning that they could live on this planet for several more months before rescue, if they were rescued at all. “Bond with me,” he said, taking her head in his hands. “What?” she struggled to focus, then stared at him as though he were insane. “My blood produces its own antivenin. If I give you my blood, it will neutralize the poison, but... it will also bond us.” She stared at him a moment, then forced a maniacal laugh. “Bond? When I am dying?” “Allow me to do this. Please.” After a long moment, she nodded, and he began the process. Slowly, several pints flowed from his body to hers, and from her body to his. It strengthened hers and weakening his, which he expected. However, the onslaught of telepathy, of being so intimately connected with one another was intense, and sometimes excruciatingly painful for her, as her inability to cope was to him. He knew it would wane, but the time between then and now seemed to move much too slowly. ******** In the quiet of her quarters, d’Ka remembered his torment. Caught between the Sindar code of noninterference and the Starfleet code of rendering assistance, he had chosen the latter, and had wondered since then if he had made the right decision. She often called it an adventure—a strange word choice, in his estimation, but it made him smile, and she smiled when she used it. As with all bondmates, there had been misunderstandings, but the bonding had been essentially beneficial for both. She was an orphan who had shunned close attachments since the death of her parents that was closely followed by the death of her adoptive Klingon father. The bonding had given her purpose beyond revenge, and in that she had benefited. He had lost his wife and children when Sindar was attacked during their first and last war, the war that convinced the Elders that Sindar could no longer remain neutral, and that there were those outside their small system who would take advantage. There were those who did not understand peace and prosperity could coexist. Though he never forgot his family, his second bonding had brought him renewal and recovery from the pain. And of course they enjoyed their conjugal rights, especially now, when it was most needed. Kirel stirred in the bed, then rolled to face him. “Approaching 1700. You have one hour left,” he said offering her what looked like a small glass of Enl’licdh, an extremely potent Sindarin brandy. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the glass then looked up. “You want me to meet Captain Ramson after drinking that?” she snapped. D’Ka smiled, then burst into laughter as he placed the drink on the bedside table. “No… no, no, no Thytrin. This is Enl’licdh ‘a. A derivative. It’s used to clear your thoughts, not....” He tried not to smile, but it was difficult to contain. “Really.” She didn’t seem to have the trust she had an hour ago. “Yes.” He continued, chuckling as he moved toward the shower. “Really.”
  4. The Silence of the Spheres Je’rit d’Ka, Captain, USS Missouri "There are whispers in the emptiness between stars…, the meaning of which has all but vanished among the young." ~Ethan Neufeld The aliens had disappeared, most probably into subspace, and yet he sensed a presence. Yes, a presence, but no thoughts, nothing to indicate sentience. Only a presence, no different from the planets, the stars, or…. D’Ka straightened in the command chair of USS Missouri, his heart pounding a rhythm to the universe as he reached out in desperation for something… anything… that would tell him that life existed here… anywhere. But there was nothing. “Commander Lei’ri, you have the con,” he said with forced calm as he rose and walked in silence into his ready room. If Lei’ri replied, he did not hear it. If his executive officer was alive, he did not feel it. He could not tell, except that Lei’ri breathed, he moved, and he voiced concern—which the captain ignored. The same it was for the rest of the crew. They breathed, they moved, they tended to their labours, but he felt nothing. Except that one inexplicable presence. It is said that there are whispers in the emptiness between the stars. This he always knew. It had been part of his childhood, part of his initiation into the power of Sindar telepathy: the good it can do, and the evil it can wreak when unchecked. One thought, unguarded, can destroy thousands of innocents. It is also said that the Sindar have the most powerful telepathy in the universe. They do not. “Where are you?” he whispered as the door slid closed behind him with a soft, comfortable hiss. He heard that; why could he not hear the rest? “Please,” he begged as he wandered to the viewport and reached into the black void that was not void at all. “Where are you? Let me hear you.” Asteroids, planets, stars, nebulae, and galaxies vibrate a rhythm, known by some as the music of the spheres, hypothesized by others as the vibrations that compose the fabric of space and time. Yet he knew them as the very life and breath of creation, the fabric that would be formed into sentient beings by the hand of the One who ruled the universe. “Where are you?” he whispered. He waited, his hands grasping the viewport sill with a desperation he had not experienced since his bond-mate approached the threshold between life and death. Kirel! Thy-trin, he called. “Rest.” The voice came to him as soft, warm, soothing… and terrifying. “Who are you?” he said aloud, searching the ready room as though someone had entered unbidden. “Where are you? What do you want?” “Rest.” He stopped, stared, then returned to the viewport to gaze across the void, fighting panic, and hoping that something out there would give him insight and all would be well again. “Why?” he sighed. “Why rest, when I have lost half my being? The silence is disturbing. It is…. It is unbearable. I hear nothing!” “You hear me. Now listen. Rest.” “Why? Why should I rest?” “If you do not, you will die.” Only then did he remember. As far as he could envision, two ships vied for dominance between normal space and subspace, and yet there was only one: one ship above the planet and one entity deep beneath its crust. One attacking ship and one defending presence? It was possible, but how…? The searing pain from the battle that engulfed his body, so powerful that he could not endure; the anguish laid upon all telepaths here, on the planet, and on the station: the anguish that could have killed them, but did not: it all made sense. “What of the others?” “Rest.” Several hours later, security breached the door to the captain's ready room and burst through in panic, assuming the worst and ready to deal with it. They found him on the couch, sleeping peacefully.
  5. Inexplicable Failure It takes the humanoid brain o.5 seconds to register a threat, and another 1.5 seconds to initiate a defense against it. That, of course, applies to an ordinary threat under ordinary circumstances. In extraordinary circumstances, such as during a major tactical encounter such as a battle, it takes longer. When ships and fighters are involved, there could be a pause of several minutes before command can diagnose the threat, shift strategies, and then implement them. Such was the case for all parties when USS Missouri unleashed its D-7 on the heart of the Alliance and the Alliance countered successfully—a countermeasure for a weapon that did not respond to countermeasures. Silence reigned on Missouri’s bridge as the D-7 swerved off-course and exploded well short of its mark. However, that it missed its mark was not as puzzling was the blue glow that seemed to have caused it. In contrast to its miss, Aegean’s volleys struck true. Commander Lie’ri turned slowly toward USS Missouri’s tactical officer, his brows knit in alarm and confusion. The Vulcan seemed unfazed as he continued to monitor and direct tactical information to their forces and the main tactical screen. “Mr. Sojek.” “Yes, Commander?” He looked up to Lie’ri’s puzzled expression. “What happened to the D-7?” Sojek’s attention returned to his duties. “It appears that something drew it off target, Commander. The cause and the origin cannot be determined. However, damage report indicates five Alliance fleet were disabled, which is not the degree of damage expected, given its designated trajectory.” “Probable cause?” “That has yet to be determined, Commander.” “Mr. Sojek, your educated guess.” Sojek’s brow rose as he again regarded his commanding officer. “Commander, I am not in the habit of guessing, for guessing is presumption, theorizing, and speculation, none of which is founded on fact. May I suggest that Doctor Prescott analyze the glow that preceded the explosion. Whether the two are connected is unclear, but it is a place to begin.” Lie’ri’s mouth opened to respond, then closed it as the ship shook with another volley. “Mr. Tan,” he said as he swiveled back to the main viewscreen, “I want a full analysis of the blue glow that came from the Alliance fleet. Contact USS Iowa as soon as possible and relay information on the present situation and the problem they may encounter with the Alien Alliance.” “Aye, Commander,” she replied, swiftly entering the information on her operations console. “Call for backup, Commander?” “That would leave their sector unprotected, and that….” He inhaled deeply, weighing the consequences on both sides. “...that is not advisable,” he finished, not voicing what his Qr’var instincts were telling him.
  6. The Needs of the Many Captain Je’rit d’Ka Captain Chirakis Kirel Sky Harbor Aegis Stardate 2388.044 Sindar bonding knows no boundaries. The two become one, most prominently in their psionic connection, which is irrevocable and, at times, disturbing. Even distance cannot contain it. It knows no boundaries except those set by the bondmates themselves. Now, as Captain d’Ka consulted Chief Basser regarding Aegis’ remaining fighters, he felt Kirel’s thoughts creep into his consciousness. It was a plan taking shape, slowly forming in her mind, and he knew that the plan she was considering could easily be the station’s only option. Knowing full well that he could not do what she asked, she would demand it anyway. Such was her nature. He was forbidden by oath, and the consequences were unimaginable. And yet, he might have no choice. This same situation had happened before, and now the memory burst from his subconscious: a hungry, lingering presence, waiting for this, his most vulnerable moment. As her plan took shape, his internal conflict grew. D’Ka excused himself from his conversation with Chief Basser and moved to a secluded area of Aegis’ fighter bay to wait… and prepare. During Operation Mist Station 3, starships bearing many of Aegis’ crew had come under attack by a formidable enemy. Their ships were disabled and total annihilation was imminent. Missouri could have helped. It did not. And yet, they were saved—by a Sindar ship. By chance? By a quirk of fate? When she read the report, Kirel’s fury was overwhelming. It was something he would not… he could not forget. And now, in the face of imminent attack by perhaps a more formidable foe, d’Ka felt her wondering if he would help... or sacrifice them all. ______________ Sky Harbor Aegis After Mist Station 3 Stardate 2387.181 In the stillness of her office, Chirakis Kirel looked up from the mission report and stared at the man she thought she knew, the one she thought she understood. In actuality, what she knew was but a shadow, and in that instance of understanding she realized she would never know the fullness of the being known to her as Je’rit d’Ka. Forged in the fires of uncertainty and tempered on an anvil of war, their bond had endured thus far, and thus it would remain, and yet…. “You knew it would happen,” she whispered intensely, at a loss to explain her calm despite the roiling turmoil within, the anger that threatened to consume her. “You watched.” “I did.” “And you did… nothing!” D’Ka’s expression held a hidden torment, his eyes violet with anger, despair, or both. The usual psionic bond he shared with her had been withdrawn—absent throughout their conversation. Kirel had wondered why. Until now. “Missouri was not there,” he said after a long pause, his voice strained, “ordered by Starfleet to refrain from contact. I watched events unfold through a psionic connection to Captain d’Rin of the Sindar starship Athicus. For reasons of his own, he shadowed them into the system, and he did not guard his thoughts. Whether intentional or not, he projected his experiences to me. They were uncontrollably painful. In essence, I was there.” The Sindar captain paused, hesitant. “He should not have interfered. Despite the danger, despite their dire need… d’Rin should not have interfered.” Kirel’s gaze turned deadly, and her tone venomous. “Yet, had he not interfered, they would have died. To the last man.” “Possibly. And their vessels destroyed, leaving no trace.” His body sank wearily into the chair, and his gaze wandered through the observation window to the USS Missouri at her mooring, its presence dwarfing the other vessels in size, magnificence, and power. His voice dropped to a whisper. “As does Starfleet, the Sindar have a code of noninterference, the Sindar code taking precedence. As a Starfleet officer I am held to both codes. D’Rin abides only by the Sindar code; he has no conflict in his decisions. Therein lies the conundrum. I am both thankful for, and troubled by his actions. “The Sindar are a people of peace,” he sighed, “and yet we build starships of immense destructive power: irreconcilable opposites. Long ago we thought ourselves invincible. We were nearly destroyed by our hubris and were drawn unwillingly into war. “There is always someone more powerful, Thytrin. Always. Or someone more cunning. It was a lesson learned at great price. My wife... our children.” He sighed. “And so we built ships of war for protection. Ships of destruction that would guarantee our peace.” One hand waved listlessly at the ship that glowed against the dark void beyond. “I am a man of peace, and yet Missouri’s fighter bays are lined with swift, sure, accurate instruments of destruction manned by the most elite pilots. Its batteries are stocked with unimaginable munitions. We have weapons and devices aboard of which only I and Lie’ri are aware. Starfleet patrols its borders for protection, for peace, and yet the ship I command was built for one thing, and one thing only.” His gaze implored a response, perhaps an answer to the paradox. She had none to give. He turned away. “You know how psionically powerful we are, Thytrin,” he sighed. “One thought, unguarded, could destroy every being within this station, or at the very least it would drive them mad. Such power should never have been granted by the One that rules the universe. The Sindar guard it as a sacred trust and allow only the most reticent to leave the confines of our system. In saving those we both hold dear he violated that sacred trust; it will not go unpunished.” ⧫ _____________ Sky Harbor Aegis Stardate 2388.044 (Present Date) In the relative quiet of the fighter bay’s secluded corner, he felt it begin. She focused, resolute and determined. It both amazed and disturbed him that she, a non-telepathic Bajoran, when bonded, could project her thoughts so easily while still attending to a conversation with a diplomat in Command and Control. Apparently their bond was stronger than he imagined. That, in itself, was dangerous, especially to her. She had no idea…. Bracing himself against a bulkhead, he breathed deeply and summoned wisdom from the One who rules the universe. We have need of your talent, she finally projected. Explain, he replied, though he already knew. A diversion to stop the alien fleet for... a time. His jaw clenched in grief. I cannot. You know I cannot. Then the Federation will fall. The Joint Allied Powers will fall. This is but the aliens’ first attempt. There will be more. You swore an oath to Starfleet. His oath. His bond. He swallowed hard. It could kill you. Then so be it. I swore an oath to Starfleet, and to the Federation. She did not hesitate. He should have known. His forehead pressed into the cold metal frame of the bulkhead as he sank against it, devastated. Thytrin…. “Just DO it!” “Captain d’Ka? Sir, are you alright?” D’Ka’s distraction had been so complete that he had not heard Chief Brasser approach; he had not noticed his presence at all. Pushing to a stand, d’Ka turned slowly and wiped a hand down his face to mask his emotions, but his eyes remained a deep purple. “I am fine, thank you, Chief. Only weary.” He forced a smile. “As are we all. Carry on. Give me ten minutes, and I will return. In the meantime, configure that fighter to accept my commands.” “Aye, aye, Captain,” said Brasser, not quite convinced. “Do you need anything?” “Only a few moments of peace,” d’Ka replied more boldly. The chief nodded, then returned to the fighter. D’ka waited until the bay chief was well out of range for the task he was about to perform. ______________________________ ⧫ The Things We Carry
  7. The Stuff of Nightmares SubCommander Korjata and Captain d'Ka His eyes a deep purple, Captain d’Ka’s otherwise contemplative expression appeared brooding as he regarded SubCommander Korjata while Missouri’s command staff filed into the conference room. They had just received word that the USS Byron had exploded inside Aegis space. USS Warren, two squadrons of Aegis’ fighters, most of Aegis’ asteroid field and their defense grid had reportedly vanished, presumably from a chroniton bomb. Soon Missouri would approach the blast radius, garnering many uncertainties. Could they take Missouri and the frigate USS Tsinghua through the chroniton field safely, or would they have to circumvent it? Just how defenseless was Aegis, and who—or what—would they be defending against? Had Aegis no resources left, or were there certain rudimentary assets available? With half the Frontier Task Force occupied elsewhere, to whom could they look for assistance if needed? Question upon question plagued the captain’s thoughts, causing the purple to darken, bordering on deep black. He continued to stare, though the Romulan was not the subject of his musings; it was something beyond. To the captain’s right, Tactical Officer Sojek steepled his fingers in the customary Vulcan manner. He had calculated several tactical procedures and had determined the greatest probability of enabling a successful escape from the Alien Alliance. He had also calculated the approach that would most likely create disaster. Next to Sojek, Chief Science Officer Stevenson paged through digital information, comparing data and scans, and searching for answers to the exact nature of the chroniton bomb, how it could have been formulated, where it came from, and especially the absence its countermeasure, Anyons. Anyons occur only in two-dimensional systems, and that exchanging two identical particles may cause a global phase shift, which would solve the problem of the phased vessels. However, either finding or creating them was not exactly a project that could be undertaken on a ship of war. Given the prospect of future encounters with chroniton bombs, he knew it would soon have to be. The door slid open to admit Chief Engineer Adira Hynson, who relaxed into her customary position at the conference table. As calm as she was beautiful, she was also no one to reckon with, having come from a long line of warriors. How she became an engineer on a Starfleet ship of war is a long story, and best left to another time. Lt Col Anastis, still geared up for the infiltration that never came, sat opposite SubCommander Korjata. Still somewhat suspicious of the Romulan and the craft he piloted, his expression was grim as he regarded tr’Korjata with more than ordinary curiosity. “Colonel Anastis, status of the Nei’rrh?” D’Ka’s eyes seemed to study tr’Korjata as he spoke. “Clear, Captain,” Anastis replied. “We have found nothing out of order. They are working on the communication system now, to bring it to working order...” “Who... is working on the communication system?” His gaze diverted to the colonel. “Engineering is working on the communication system, sir.” After a glance at Commander Hynson for verification, the captain’s attention returned to the Romulan. “I understand that your craft is very different, SubCommander, and that its systems are delicate and possibly beyond our engineers’ grasp. Is it acceptable that they attempt to correct the problem, given the possibility of inadvertent damage?” The SubCommander nodded. "Best to bypass the built-in comm system all together." He shrugged. "Rihan engineering. I think a Starfleet module from a Runabout should get it going until a full rebuild can be performed." He stopped before this was all he talked about. “Very well.” D’Ka nodded. “Commander Hynson, inform your crew that SubCommander Korjata will direct all repairs on his craft, as a precaution against further damage.” She nodded with a “Yes, Captain,” and sent a message. She, too, seemed to be intrigued with the Romulan’s presence, though her focus returned immediately to the captain. A sound of hydraulics brought the crew’s attention to Commander Lie’ri. “The latest from Aegis, Captain,” he said upon entry. “ They are not sure how long the phased state will last, but at this point they are defenseless. Captain Ramson does have a few ships and fighters in the area, but nothing that could repel the full force of the Alien Alliance if they decide to attack while the other ships are out of phase.” He followed d’Ka’s gaze to tr’Korjata, then relaxed into a chair. After another pause, d’Ka leaned forward to rest his forearms on the table and regard the others. “SubCommander, have you any insight into this? Is it possible for Missouri to enter the chroniton field without compromising any of the ship’s systems?” "Into a field? In the research I've read, the particles will dissipate if a charge is not maintained on them. The time is rather long though, possibly months, so it would not be my first choice. The shields on the Nei'rrh are protected, for the most part. I'm guessing your ship does not have the modifications." “And you would be correct. If the the blast radius is large enough, it could delay our arrival long enough to allow an alien incursion. At this point, I will assume that because the Alien Alliance has a chroniton bomb, their craft are capable of guarding against it, so they could conceivably mount an attack through the field. “Captain Archeletta, have you anything to add?” All turned to the communications screen on the conference room wall where the young commanding officer of the USS Tsinghua had been listening patiently, her expression thoughtful and calculating, mirroring d’Ka’s, though she was definitely human. “Not at the moment, Captain. But I do have a question for the SubCommander.” Her gaze shifted toward him. “What would it take to modify our shields so we can negotiate the chroniton field?” "You have to install anyon generators at each shield pallet. Each one takes about an hour to do. That's not the hard part. That's making sure they are all aligned. If they are not, you merely magnify the problem and throw yourself even further out of phase if you are hit. If the shipyards are intact I think we can alter about a ship a day." Nijil felt a headache coming on bigger than the one he had now. “So we will go around the field.” D’Ka glanced sideways at the tactical officer. “Mr. Sojek, would that be your recommendation?” “There is no alternative, Captain.” “Commander Stevenson,” D’Ka continued, “we will rely on you and your science team to keep us well away from the chroniton field.” Stevenson nodded. The SubCommander interjected. "We should launch probes to see exactly what the field would do to a ship. We could even map out the area, providing the probe survives." “I appreciate the suggestion, SubCommander. However, that would take additional time away from travel, and that the probe survived would not necessarily give us certainty that the ships would. How long should it take us to travel around the field, Mr. Stevenson?” “To stay completely clear of the blast radius, approximately sixty standard minutes, Captain.” “Very well. Commander Lie’ri, notify helm to alter course immediately to circumvent the blast area. Captain Archeletta, anything else?” “No, Captain. We will maintain constant communication.” “Agreed.” D’Ka’s eyes swept the conference table. “If nothing else, carry on. Lieutenant Sojek, a security detail to stand by as an escort for SubCommander Korjata when he chooses to visit the bay. Inform the quartermaster that we will need accommodations for three. Put them on deck four.” After acknowledgements, the captain rose to tower over all but Commander Lie’ri. “Lieutenant Sojek will escort you to your quarters, SubCommander. We may need your expertise again, but for now, you and your crew need rest and nourishment. The diplomatic quarters are well stocked.” The Rihan spoke. "Before I rest, if I may contact Aegis I'll inform them of my recommendation given what I know. I should at least transmit our tricorder readings to them." “Of course. Lieutenant Tan will assist you. Commander Lei’ri, remain.” * * * * * Several minutes later, D’Ka secured the conference room and moved slowly to the observation window. An eerie glow shown in the distance, a grim reminder of the blast field, and within it, nothing. “Fickle particles, ‘Ri,” he began pensively. “The Byron is gone. And of her crew, not a sign.” His hands braced on the windowsill, head bowed and eyes closed. “You grow weary, Captain. You must rest.” D’Ka’s brows knit into deep furrows, as if in pain. “The fighter pilots and the crew of Warren are terrified, ‘Ri,” he whispered. “The command staff is terrified as well, hiding it as best they can. Captain Bithrai is the only stable one among them. Their emotions run high, ‘Ri. They are difficult to ignore… or repel.” “Captain Bithrai has faced worse situations and emerged unscathed, Keann-aí.* You, however, cannot endure much longer without rest.” A wan smile broke for a second. “And a warm Enl’licdh?* I will, my ever-present f’airre,* but only after I address your concerns.” “Yes. I have two concerns, Captain, the most prominent being the artificial intelligence that the SubCommander said was piloting the Byron. This is an exceptional level of technology, more than we anticipated in the Alien Alliance. The next concern is their probable ability to attack and destroy those who are trapped in the chroniton field.” The black of the captain’s iris faded as he considered Lie’ri’s thoughts and turned away from the starfield. “Valid concerns, ‘Ri,” he said casually, “however… I doubt that this was an actual artificial intelligence. If it were, it could have easily adjusted and countered the maneuvers of the pursuers. That said,” he paused, “it is also possible that the bomb was not meant so much for Aegis as for its defenses... “...which leads us to the Alien Alliance’s ability to enter the field and, as they say, finish the job.” He sighed and regarded the pulsing glow one last time. “Return to the bridge, contact Aegis, and inform them of our findings. Wake me when we are within visual range of the station.” _____________ Keann-aí - Sindar for "captain", reserved for the most respected. Enl’licdh - a heady Sindar brandy, similar to fine Cognac. F’airre - Sindar for "faithful watchdog".
  8. Beyond Strange It did not take Commander Lie’ri’s Qr’var instincts long to detect the malaise in Captain d’Ka as he stood mid-bridge, staring at the starfield created by USS Missouri’s flank speed shot through space to intercept the USS Byron. He had been in the same position for hours, without the slightest twitch or any sign that he was even breathing. In the decade they had served together, Lie’ri had never seen him like this. USS Byron, one of two Zumwalt class stealth destroyers, had been reported missing in Nebula 236A four days ago. Since then, she had suddenly emerged from the nebula unscathed, but headed for Aegis without reporting to the Task Force, nor had they replied to hails. “Status.” Startled by the captain’s sudden movement, his, “Status quo, Captain. Byron is still on course,” was late enough to draw d’Ka’s attention. “It makes no sense, ‘Ri,” he said, turning slowly to return to the command chair. “There are no lifeforms aboard, and yet something is in control. I know Captain Mitchell. If he is there, he is undetectable, which is more than disturbing.” “An enigma, Captain. I would say impossible, given your abilities. And yet…” “...and yet, the truth remains: I do not sense him at all, nor do I sense any others.” As he leaned toward his second, d’Ka inhaled deeply, as though it were his first breath in hours. He held it for a moment before a slow exhale. “Any response to our hails?” “None, Captain.” “Inform Iowa’s Captain Kelley of our situation. Contact the Warren and the Tsinghua. Tell them to continue shadow on our flanks. Bring Captains Bithrai and Archeletta up to speed on the situation. We are to consider Byron hostile until proven otherwise.” Commander Lie’ri nodded to Operations officer Tan. She had been watching the captain as well and seemed relieved that he had finally moved after… two hours? Three? He had lost count. When he looked back, the captain had resumed his previous disposition. Immobile, hardly breathing, his fingers steepled as he stared at the starfield. Or staring through the starfield? It was difficult to tell. * * * * * Captain Chirakis jerked up from her dream, not so much alarmed as perturbed. She didn’t often have a peaceful dream, and she had been enjoying it. “What?” she said irritably into the darkness. “Take your position in Command and Control. We are approaching Byron’s coordinates and we may go dark. You might be needed to relay messages.” “What?” “Must I repeat myself?” “Of course not,” she growled, massaging her forehead against a growing headache. “Why not Captain Ramson? She is in command, she is telepathic, and there would be no need to relay” “Captain Ramson is not my bondmate. I am forbidden.” “Well, that’s a new one,” she snapped. “Very well. I’m on my way.” At 0230, she casually stepped out into CnC. Heads turned in surprise, coffee cups disappeared, and a few stood. A wave of her hand and a, “Carry on,” put them back to work, their questioning expressions unanswered. After pausing to study the tactical display, Kirel turned toward the security console. “Officer of the watch, report.” “No word from USS Byron, Captain” Lt MaCheski replied. “They appear steady, on course to the designated coordinates. USS Missouri reported ninety minutes out. They are accompanied by USS Warren and USS Tsinghua. Missouri is considering Byron ‘hostile until proven otherwise’.” “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Kirel turned to face the young woman. “You have the conn.” After a brief look of surprise, she straightened up. “Aye, Captain. I have the conn.” “Report when Byron has arrived at the coordinates.”
  9. Stranger in a Strange Land Captain Chirakis & Captain d’Ka Smoke curled delicately from cigar to ceiling, its mesmerizing beauty vanishing reluctantly through a jealous vent that sucked its life into USS Missouri’s atmospheric scrubbing system. Gently rolling the cigar between her fingers, Kirel regarded the Sindar Sk’hldh, one of the most potent cigars in the galaxy, each one expertly rolled by Sindar craftsman, and each one containing a specific low-level aphrodisiac. Captain d’Ka, her bond-mate, sat in the chair opposite, drawing slowly on his, inhaling deeply, then slowly releasing its vapors, his eyes closed, content. As she inhaled, her thoughts drifted elsewhere. How long had it been since they had come together? Losing track of time was easy in the midst of turmoil, when the immediate took precedence over the future. And lately, turmoil had been synonymous with Aegis. “Since the devastation of ch’Rihan,” d’Ka answered her unspoken query as he studied his cigar. Her thoughts interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “You are my bond-mate. It is my right to invade your thoughts.” The slightest flick of amusement curled his lips. “Thytrin.” “Don’t.” “As you wish,” he replied casually, swirling his Cognac before taking a sip, his broadened smile appearing impish through the delicate crystal glass. “But now I wonder if I should answer your questions about the mysterious mist you have on the station, since I read those also.” “Please do,” she said, summoning restraint, then added, “You enjoy your little game of aggravation, don’t you?” “Oh, immensely,” he chuckled in mid-puff, his lips curling into a smirk. “You succumb so easily.” “Really.” She returned her focus to the Cognac. “Yes, really.” The smirk waned slowly as he flicked the cigar and relaxed further into the chair, cradling his glass in one hand. “But back to the point. This bundle of energy that forms into a shadow is very interesting. For reasons I cannot explain, it is trying to contact me.” He looked straight at her, his expression hinting caution. “Go on.” “Though I cannot literally communicate with it, I can sense its emotions, much as I sense yours.” He pointed his glass in her direction. “I feel its fear, its separation from entities like itself, and its general confusion. Whether it is confused about how it came here, where it is, how to communicate, or something else, I have no idea.” She nodded. “But what I find more interesting is that it is curious.” “Curious?” She flicked her cigar. “In what way?” “In the way that scientists, mathematicians, and engineers are curious. It wants to investigate. It wants to learn. That is why it probes the computer’s databases. That is how it is learning about sound, how to form sound waves, and how to manipulate some into words. "I find its curiosity both interesting and strange. Why would an entity that has been thrown out of its original environment and into one that is totally alien be curious enough to attempt to communicate? I can understand wanting to communicate so it can negotiate, but to learn out of curiosity?” He shrugged and set his glass aside. Kirel stared, rolling those thoughts around in her mind. “Do you sense any ill will?” “None at all.” “Do you believe its curiosity could be a prelude to…” she waved a hand, “...invasion by its species, or by another species, or simply taking over the station?” The captain thought a moment before responding, “I can only say that its curiosity, at this point, seems to be for its own edification. It makes no sense that it would feel trapped, frightened, and confused if it was gathering intelligence for an invasion.” “Hm,” she sighed. “How do you suggest we proceed?” “With caution. And learn as much about it as you can. But now….” he put everything aside, stood, and took her gently by the hand. “Come, Thytrin. It has been much too long.”
  10. Ricochet Cptn Je’rit d’Ka Captain d’Ka strode purposefully down the walkway on Missouri’s bridge, stopping abruptly at the door to the Ready Room. “Mr. Tan, alert the fleet to rendezvous and to await further orders. Commander Lei’ri, my ready room. Mr. Doland, rendezvous vector, best speed. Mr. Tan, you have the conn.” Scrambled action and acknowledgements from the bridge crew faded as the ready room door closed, and a slight vibration underfoot signaled departure. D’Ka released the door to his cooler, retrieved two glasses of a golden liquid, and handed one to Commander Lie’ri. “We are on the trail of the aliens,” he said, settling behind his desk while Lei’ri relaxed in the chair opposite. “Captain Ramson will command Aegean and the mission. Missouri will accompany Aegean and command Task Force Alpha. USS Toronto will remain in Aegis space. Captain Kirsch and Commander Standard will command Task Force Bravo with Orion, Hennessy, Gilbert, and Noble.” He paused to sip, then swiveled his chair to face a screen that activated at his Sindarin command. A dot indicated their destination, and various symbols indicated the Starfleet ships in their proximity. “That is our destination, well into hostile space. All craft will be set to full alert rotation to scramble at a moment’s notice. Banshees and Nightmares will go to full alert status. Questions?” Commander Lei’ri cradled his drink in one hand and studied the screen. Then he turned to regard his captain for a moment. “No questions, Captain, but a comment if I may?” “Of course.” “I understand that we must be aware. However,” he said cautiously, “we have not encountered these aliens before, and yet we prepare for all out war, which tells me that either you have encountered them before or you know more than you are willing to divulge.” D’Ka’s brow rose. “Or both, ‘Ri?” “Or both, Captain.” The captain nodded, then leaned forward to rest his forearms on the desk and put his drink aside. “I have not encountered these beings before,” he began soberly, his eyes a deep purple. “but I do know them. I sense them, and their intent is questionable. Reconnaissance reports from the edge of our operational sphere tell us that there are at least four species, and that they are allied, or at least they are working together. “They have powerful telepaths among them, ‘Ri. Not many, but, as you know, it does not take many. They probe deeply, and are difficult to block. Not impossible,” he said, raising a hand to the commander’s concerned expression, “but difficult. Therefore, you must watch me carefully, ‘Ri, and be prepared to take command whenever you see any sign that I am compromised, confused, or distracted enough that I cannot command. Is that understood?” “Yes, Captain.” Hands clasped, D’Ka bowed his head and sat for a while, then spoke in confidence. “‘Ri… they are so powerful, they probed me so deeply, that my thoughts projected. She was close. She could have died.” Lei’ri’s brow furrowed. “I almost killed her.” “Your bondmate, Captain?” D’Ka nodded, then spoke calmly and evenly. “It is imperative that you understand this, ‘Ri: the extent of their power, and what they might be capable of. If I cannot guard my thoughts when these aliens are close, my thoughts could affect and confuse the crew. If they disturb the crew, Commander Lei’ri, you must stop me... by any means possible. Do you understand?” “By any means, Captain?” “Yes, Commander. Any means. If necessary, you must kill me.” Lei’ri recoiled, stunned. “This is not a request, Commander, it is a direct order. As a sworn Starfleet officer, will you honor your oath to protect and defend your ship and your crew to the best of your ability?” The two regarded each other soberly: Lei’ri with dread, and d'Ka with determination until Lei’ri replied, “Yes, Captain.” “Are there any more questions, Commander?” “None at this time, Captain.” D’ka nodded. “Return to the bridge, ‘Ri. I will remain here until rendezvous.” Lei’ri withdrew, leaving d’Ka alone to contemplate. * * * * * “I and my bosom must debate awhile, And then I would no other company.” ~Henry V, Act 4, Scene 1 Sindar telepathy has no bounds. Their scientists call it preservation of the species. Their Elders call it a blessing and a curse. They believe that the Creator endowed the species with a connection that could not be broken, a code that bound them to both the Creator and to one another. Whether a blessing or a curse mattered little, except when caught between the two. Such was the situation ten years ago, on a small, barren planet deep within the Zengani System. Starfleet Lieutenant Jer’it d’Ka was trapped in a wasteland of indecision as he stared into the darkness of a cave, his image silhouetted by a full moon. His uniform was worn thin. His silver hair, normally cropped to regulation, draped to his shoulders and covered delicately pointed ears that heard everything. It sometimes heard too much. Inside the cave, almost a hundred meters below, a young Bajoran intelligence officer hunched over a hydration unit and awaited his arrival. He could not see her, but he could feel her, hear her every breath, sense her every mood. Did she know of his telepathy? He hoped not, but chances were that she did, given a starship crew’s ability to spread word of everything from the critical to the mundane. He sighed. A swift, surgical strike against their small Starfleet reconnaissance force had separated their craft from the fleet and caused them to crash. They counted themselves fortunate to have lived, as many others did not. So far they had survived two months, three days, seven hours, and…. D’Ka breathed deeply, forcing himself to remember, as painful as it was. Emergency supplies salvaged from her disabled fighter and his runabout had kept them alive. Insects, reptiles, and a few other creatures that survived the planet’s savage nature hid during the day, but became fair game for any predator after sunset. Tonight, he was the predator. Several species of insect and arachnids squirmed in his satchel. They were high in protein and needed for survival. She would be glad to have them. Except for the insignia, the Bajoran’s distinctive black uniform of Starfleet Intelligence Division 5 blended perfectly with the cave’s darkness. He felt her. He also felt the darkness closing in, drawing her closer than propriety allowed. She was forthright and dynamic, a true warrior like the warrior women of Sindar. Her every movement was purposeful, and her eyes flashed in anger if he showed any sign of weakness. Yet, she could be quiet and contemplative, though not often. She shared little, but the little she shared was revealing enough. If she felt him, she did not reveal it. There was no reason that she should, and within her small world of SI-5, if there was no reason to share, one did not. Not sharing gave her an advantage over the enemy. “There is a bond forming between us,” d’Ka had warned after their first month of isolation. She did not understand, neither did she care. “If Starfleet does not find us soon, our extended proximity and this situation could become more than you or I intend.” She still did not understand, treating it more as an idle threat than reality. “If your telepathy is as powerful as you say it is,” she countered, “then why don’t you just call for help?” “Something, or someone, is blocking it,” he explained. “I suspect it is the species that attacked us, and I also suspect that they are hunting us. Therefore, I must guard my thoughts.” She remained indifferent. As the days passed, he explained everything in more detail: how they might become one entity, closer than what Terrans called husband and wife, that they might be bound to each other for life. But he did not explain the exact depth of their bond, reasoning that if she did not understand the simple, she would not understand the complex. Now, as he pondered this in his ready room, he counted it as a regrettable mistake. “You fear we might become close?” She had scoffed, eyes narrowed. “Fear is for the weak. Determination and purpose is for the strong.” At the mouth of the cave, his sharp rap—stone against stone—echoed from the cave’s entrance to their camp, far below. Soon, it elicited the prearranged response, and he proceeded down the pebbled cave floor, stepping carefully, easing himself along narrow paths that framed sudden drops of several thousand meters. Though dangerous, they served as protection from intruders, and they used them as such by pitching their camp beyond. “More creatures,” he said as he approached, “edible… spiders I believe you call them, a snake that appears venomous—proceed with caution—and,” he held up a bottle, “a bottle of wine I found buried in the debris of the runabout. Strange that it survived, but it did, and that is all that matters.” Several large red and black streaked arachnids clacked their mandibles and scampered up his arm when he drew them from the satchel, but a quick swipe tossed them into a killing jar before he sealed the lid. Their merciful death would come soon. That it was merciful was important to him. She was indifferent. Having been a slave for the first 12 years of her life, she was only concerned with their protein content. Beyond that, their death mattered little. “The hydration unit works well within the cave,” he continued, settling onto a rock next to her. “Humidity is higher,” Kirel replied listlessly, lifting the container, now full. “It’s even higher farther down. I haven’t found the source of the water yet. You might have to dig for it.” She nodded toward a white, lobster-like creature that thrashed against a container next to her. “They live down there. You won’t be able to eat it.” She coughed, then cleared her throat as she handed him a small cup of water. D’Ka’s hand shot to her wrist, overturning the cup. His eyes flashed red as he examined an area of torn flesh the size of the creature’s claw. It was swollen, purple, and oozed a heavy green, putrid pus that dripped down her arm. A bandage she had apparently applied could no longer contain the injury, and had begun to constrict the blood flow. “You have been poisoned.” “Yes,” she said, turning into the artificial light. “And the antivenin does not work.” “When did this happen?” “I’m not sure. About... ten minutes ago? Maybe longer?” Her words came slowly, forced with great effort as she struggled to breathe. Her hand lay limp in his. His free hand took hold of her jaw, turning her face to examine her eyes. The characteristic fire was gone, her pupils dilated. He tugged at her uniform collar to pull it away from her neck, then released the snap to check her chest and back. “Your eyes are bloodshot. There is a rash on your neck and back. Your tongue is swelling. Soon your throat will close.” She said nothing. Her chest heaved, and she sank against the cave wall. He remembered his panic. Knowing there was nothing in their medical supplies that would counter the poison, he had searched frantically anyway. No lancing, no application, no medication could possibly help. But there was one solution, and he grasped it, willingly, reasoning that they could live on this planet for several more months before rescue, if they were rescued at all. “Bond with me,” he said taking her head in his hands. “What?” she said, as though he were insane. “My blood produces its own antivenin. If I give you my blood, it will neutralize the poison, but... it will also bond us.” She stared at him a moment, then forced a maniacal laugh. “Bond? When I am dying?” “Allow me to do this. Please.” After a long moment, she nodded, and he began the process. Slowly, several pints flowed from his body to hers, and from her body to his. It strengthened hers and weakening his, which he expected. However, the onslaught of telepathy, of being so intimately connected with one another was intense, and sometimes excruciatingly painful for her, as her inability to cope was to him. He knew it would wane, but the time between then and now seemed to move much too slowly. In the quiet of his ready room, Jer’it d’Ka remembered his torment. Caught between the Sindar code of noninterference and the Starfleet code of rendering assistance, he had chosen the latter, and had wondered since then if he had made the right decision. She often called it an adventure—a strange word choice, in his estimation, but it made him smile, as she was smiling when she used it. As with all bondmates, there had misunderstandings, but the bonding had been essentially beneficial for both. She was an orphan who had shunned close attachments since the death of her parents, closely followed by the death of her adoptive Klingon father. The bonding had given her purpose beyond revenge, and in that she had benefited. He had lost his wife and children when Sindar was attacked during their first and last war, the war that convinced the Elders that Sindar could no longer remain neutral, and that there were those outside their small system who would take advantage. There were those who did not understand peace and prosperity could coexist. Though he never forgot his family, his second bonding had brought him renewal and recovery from the pain. And they both had often enjoyed their conjugal rights. But now, he found himself again lost in a wasteland. Had he saved her life only to threaten it? Had he become a Starfleet officer, only to become more of a threat than an asset? “Thytrin.” Her call was so powerful and so insistent, it took him by surprise. “Yes?” he responded, concerned. “Your thoughts disturb my concentration.” D’Ka pressed back against his office chair. “Apologies, thytrin.” “You dwell on things you cannot change. Be concerned only with the present. You are a Starfleet officer. Act like one.” He sat there for a moment, stunned. Then he grinned. The grin turned slowly to a smile. Then he laughed.
  11. Homeward Bound Dr. Mimi Pavilion and Captain d’Ka Her polished hull gleaming in the light of Aegis’ fighter bay, USS Missouri’s VIP shuttle settled silently on the deck. A moment later, with a whisper of hydraulics, the shuttle’s ramp lowered before a sea of blue, red, white, gold, silver, and gray — officers of the Allied Powers shoulder to shoulder, rank upon rank in strict formation, dress uniforms studded with insignia. From the shuttle’s darkened interior, Captain d’Ka in Sindar formal and Commander Lei’ri in Qr’var formal, emerged, their eyes front, expressions stern. They paused, then stepped to the side and turned to face each other, waiting to flank those who would follow. A crisp command echoed from the bay’s entrance, triggering a sharp, collective attention, and the Honor Guard advanced in slow, strict step, their ceremonial boot heels clicking a cadence on the deck plates and cutting through the otherwise complete silence of the bay. At the bottom of the ramp, their boots slapped together before they executed a crisp about face and presented the flags of the Allied Powers in tribute before the assembly, ready to lead the deceased to a place of honor. In the first row, Lieutenant Commander Mimi Pavilion, Commander Brian Brown, RSE Commander Tylus Petrinius Jorahl, and Starfleet Surgeon General Admiral Gren DeJariov led the slow, respectful salute as the first flag-draped pod, flanked by pall bearers, exited the shuttle and moved slowly down the ramp. Eight more would follow in procession through the bay, into waiting turbolifts that would take them to the topmost observation lounge whose superior external view offered a quiet, contemplative space for them to lie in state until their families arrived. Several hours later, Drs Pavilion and DeJariov were aboard USS Missouri, speaking with Dr. Shazarim, the attending physician for the surviving crew of USS Vladivostok. Mimi, after spending the last few hours looking over the files of the survivors, looked between Drs DeJariov and Shazarim. “Alright, so how are the Vladivostok survivors doing as of now? Also, do we know of any contagion that could possibly infect the general population of this station, if and when we transfer them over to Aegis? I need to know what we’re dealing with.” “They are doing as well as can be expected, Doctor,” Shazarim replied, with a weariness that comes from too many late nights and the constant monitoring of critical patients. “Physically, they are recovering, but very slowly. Psychologically?” His lips pursed, and his arms crossed. “It will take a while, Doctor Pavilion. Their period of isolation was short, but it was brutal by human standards. The one Romulan and two Vulcans among them seemed to fare better, but I wouldn’t rule out any psychological damage across the board. “Contagion?” Here Dr. Shazarim addressed them both, especially keying in on Dr. DeJariov. “We’ve found no evidence that they’re contagious, but your medical facility is better equipped than ours. As a warship, we don’t often encounter contagious diseases, so we don’t have the extensive equipment that would rule out everything.” Shazarim nodded slightly in the direction of the Surgeon General, hinting that Missouri’s medical equipment could use an upgrade. Mimi nodded, as she jotted down what Dr. Shazarim was saying. “The autopsies on the nine fatalities, what did you determine on that, or do we need to do a full autopsy on them?” “I wouldn’t rule out a complete autopsy again, Doctor, though ours was quite thorough. For the sake of the families, maybe an intensive deep tissue scan? Only a suggestion. But here,” he handed her a PADD, “our results were pretty clear and straight-forward. As far as we could determine, the causes of death were environmental exposure, malnutrition, and allergic reaction. Which reminds me….” Shazarim reached for another PADD and handed it to her. “We couldn’t determine what this substance was. It was found in most of their systems, both living and deceased.” Mimi took the PADD and looked it over. “That’s interesting.” She handed the PADD over to Dr. DeJariov. “Were you able to determine what the substance is or not?” “Only that it’s alien to our area of space. It’s possible that it triggered the allergic reaction, but we’re not sure. And yes,” Shazarim nodded to DeJariov’s look of surprise as he reviewed the PADD, “it’s very strange. It’s hard to tell if it’s plant or animal, and even more puzzling when you realize that the Vulcans and Romulans also had a hard time dealing with it, though they did survive.” With a focused look on her face, Mimi found it hard to believe what was just mentioned. “That is odd. It’s possible that their bodies managed to digest it well enough to get the needed nutrients to survive.” Mimi looked between the two other doctors, then focused in on Doctor Shazarim. “Anything else we should be aware of?” “Not that comes to mind, Doctor. If we do find something else, of course we’ll inform you immediately. But,” he checked the chronometer on the wall, “we’re due to depart in about thirty minutes and our operations officer would like to know if you require site to site transport. I would suggest that, as a precaution.” “Agreed. Permission granted for site-to-site transport of the patients to the main medical facility. Once done, I suggest, Doctor, that you and your crew get some much needed rest,” Mimi replied. “Oh, yes,” the doctor said on a sigh, a slight grin creeping into his weary expression. “The captain promised some down time, but just when is in question. However,” here he raised a brow and his grin broadened, “you still owe me a tour of your new station, Doctor, the next time we pass through. Deal?” Mimi smiled, “Deal.”
  12. War, and Rumors of War USS Missouri, Stardate 2388.021 [2 days into the TBS] And ye shall hear of wars and rumors of wars: see that ye be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet. ~Matthew 24:6 Activity on the bridge of USS Missouri had settled to a normal pace, but an undercurrent of apprehension veiled the atmosphere. Heavy. Palpable. A curtain of suspicion and fear that was disturbing enough to distract Captain d’Ka from reading the After Action Report (AAR) he had just received from Colonel Anastis. In many ways, starships are like small rural towns that are far removed from civilization. The constant presence and close proximity of neighbors and the lack of outside contact often led to a sense of entitlement. Your neighbor’s business was your business; passing it on, whether truthful or not, was standard practice. In the case of USS Missouri, the ship had been on mission, isolated from any starbase and sequestered from all but internal communications for several months. The strain was beginning to show. It was common knowledge — whether for celebration or relief — that the remaining crew of USS Vladivostok had been rescued and were recovering in sick bay. Many had attended the ceremony for the nine who had been laid to temporary rest in the morgue. Whether or not the mission teams kept their oath of secrecy was immaterial; the cogs of the rumor mill were hungry. Feeding on observations and whispers, they eagerly ground them up and spit out enough fodder to fill the void for months. The minimal hiss and the vague scent of mocha that drifted through the opening lift doors went ignored by Captain d’Ka while he continued to read, his expression grim. “Captain,” said Commander Lei’ri as he secured the captain’s mug in the command chair’s holder, “the replicator is still not sure of the formula, but a few in science are familiar with the herbs. Hopefully they fashioned something closer to the original.” “Um…” mused d’Ka continuing to read, “thank you, ‘Ri.” After a moment he looked up. “Any progress on the rumors?” “Department Chiefs are working on it,” Lei’ri replied, settling into his chair, coffee mug in hand. The captain’s brow knit, his lips pursed. “My ready room, Commander,” he said. “Mr. Sojek, you have the bridge.” The tactical officer’s acknowledgment was barely heard before the ready room doors closed and d’Ka strode across the room. “Working on it, is not enough, Commander,” he snapped, tossing the PADD on his desk where it clattered to a stop just short of the opposite corner. He stopped, took a moment, then forced a slow exhale. “Apologies, ‘Ri,” he said quietly, then turned to wave his executive officer into an easy chair before settling wearily into the other. “I feel everything on this ship… see everything... hear everything. It is the price I pay for agreeing to command a predominantly human starship.” He sighed, sensing his counterpart’s scrutiny, the Qr’var sensitivity on which he depended so often: his watchdog. “The rumors must stop, ‘Ri, and they must stop now. Do whatever you must to accomplish that.” “Yes, Captain.” “These alien beings are formidable,” d’Ka continued, “and the crew’s suspicions threaten to make them even moreso. Contrary to their belief, these aliens are not ‘omniscient,’ they are not ‘ethereal,’ they have no ‘supernatural powers,’ they cannot ‘poof into thin air,’ and they are not... ‘cannibals.’” His eyes flashed dangerously close to violet as he stared across the room. They sat for several minutes, the silence disturbed only by the gentle hum of Missouri’s engines. “Keann-aí,”* said Lei’ri on a sigh, “your anger is more than I have seen since Grathor. But it is not against the crew or the aliens, is it. There is something more, something deeper." The heaving of his chest slowed, his fists relaxed, and D'Ka's gaze, now softened, fell on his Second. "Yes,” he said finally. “I rage against myself for waiting too long. Against Starfleet for not finding them sooner. Against the situation... against the universe... against creation itself.” A sadness crept into his expression, then a sardonic smile that vanished as quickly as it came. “I rage to control the grief." Missouri’s engines continued to hum as the ship cut a smooth, steady course toward Aegis, marking predictable progress in an unpredictable universe. Stability within the chaos. The concrete amid the abstract. “Theirs was a senseless death, ‘Ri," he continued. “They died out of their captor’s ignorance. Doctor Shazarim informed me that the crew did not lack the proper nutrition; they lacked the proper amount of nutrition. The beings tried to adjust both the substance and the quantity, but what they concocted was so revolting that most of the crew could not eat it without regurgitating. When Missouri entered the system the alien vessel left — for reasons that we may never know — but they left crates of Starfleet rations at the mouth of the cave.” The captain’s eyes searched the room. “Why, ‘Ri? Why did they wait? The food was there all along. The crew was starving. Why did they wait?” “I can think of several reasons, Captain,” Lei’ri offered cautiously. “If they were ignorant of the humanoids’ needs, they could have been ignorant of the crates’ contents, unable to read the label, unable to understand that the contents were edible, or, “ he spread his hands, “when they captured the crew they needed space in Vladivostok’s cargo bay, so they removed the crates without looking at the contents and simply left them behind.” “Um,” d’Ka replied, the pangs of anger, grief, and helplessness subsiding, if only a little. “You are wise beyond your years, ‘Ri,” he said on a sigh, then straightened up. “Doctor Shazarim also confirmed that the fermented leaves the beings fed to Captain Belton and the others who fell ill saved their lives. That, in itself, speaks well of the alien culture. Commander Worley gave him samples that will be passed on to Dr. Pavilion. Aegis’ advanced medical and science facilities should be able to analyze them. “But back to the rumors. We have no evidence that these particular beings are here for a hostile takeover of Allied space. In fact, we have evidence to the contrary. What the crew of Vladivostok endured is inexcusable, but the beings did not kill them, nor did they torture them for information, nor did they act as hostile invaders in any other way. “However, if these rumors continue, the crew will soon be convinced that they are up against an unconquerable foe. They will shrink in a crisis, jump to conclusions, or mistake an amiable gesture for a hostile one. And if they do that, these formerly friendly beings will retaliate and become hostile. "Deal with the rumors in any way you can, 'Ri, and do so quickly. You have free rein. However, I need a moment. I'll be here if I'm needed." ______________ Keann-aí - the Sindar word for captain, used when showing great respect.
  13. Seek and Hide Cptn Jerit d’Ka Lt Col Victor Anastis focused on the observation monitor in USS Missouri’s Special Operations holodeck, following the progress of his reconnaissance team as they navigated a starship boarding program. Standing next to him, Cdr Mark Grigori watched his extraction team expertly slip toward a target deep within the same starship. Using body language and quick, clear hand signals, both teams maneuvered silently toward their goals. USS Missouri had been tracking an alien ship as it slipped just as silently through a nebula, then stopped just shy of Aegis space. As the Joint Special Operations element attached to USS Missouri, the two officers' duty was to prepare for anything—including boarding that ship, which presented a problem. They lacked basic information. The alien ship was essentially unreadable, which meant that they had no intelligence on the internal specifications of the ship. Their training programs were no more than educated guesses, pieced together from external observation. With that in mind, the program constantly changed to reflect updates from the ship’s tactical assessment team that focused on targeting the most likely location of strategic areas: bridge, weapons control, engineering, and communications—not necessarily in that order. Still, if the teams came out with nothing else, they gained a lot of training in rapidly shifting scenarios. “Okay,” mused Anastis, his gaze dropping from the team progress monitor to the latest report from Missouri’s engineers. “I’m going with their suggestion to push the engineering section farther forward, amidships.” He gestured at the on-screen diagram. “It’s not common, but we’re not dealing with ‘common’ anymore. There’re signs of exhaust here...” his laser pointer circled an area, “...intake here. And the way they’re maneuvering, I’d say we should go with that.” “Um.” Gregori pursed his lips to chew on that while he watched one team approach the alien bridge and take a knee. “All teams, hold position,” he said over the team com, then turned to Anastis. “Okay, but I’m still not good with the communications area, especially if we move engineering there. What’s your take?” “Operations says that most of the signals they’ve picked up originate here,” again the laser, “making it their transmission site, not necessarily the point of origin. But if we take that out, we still have a leg up. Let’s move the bridge here.” A finger flick relocated the bridge. “That actually makes sense. We'll put the com area here, engineering control here...” he dropped them in, “...and leave weapons where it is.” Grigori thought for a moment, then nodded. “Reconfigure the bulkheads, ingress, egress, alarms, and security, and we’ll go with it. While you’re at it, throw in a few booby traps.” Anastis reset the program. Grigori engaged the com. “All teams, fall back to infil. Expect a reconfiguration. Report ready and stand by.” * * * * * Though USS Missouri’s stop at Aegis was brief, Captain d’Ka’s meeting with Lt Cdr Pavilion, Officer in Command, not only gave him the opportunity to calm her nerves, it gave him the opportunity to watch her work and sense her ease with command. He had no doubt she was capable; his only concern was her confidence. “Commander Lei’ri, take us out,” he said, striding smoothly from Missouri’s command lift onto the bridge. Has there been any change in the alien’s position?” “No, Captain; they’re still holding,” Lei’ri replied. “Very well. As soon as we are clear of Aegis, take a standard vector toward Valaria. Prepare for a course change beyond the nebula to reestablish our watch position.” “Mr. Doland,” Lei’ri said to the helmsman, “you know the drill.” After a crisp, “Aye, sir,” docking disengaged, station tenders backed off, and the Akira Class Battlecruiser eased away from Aegis, pivoted, and entered the standard corridor for departure, making it appear that it was resuming sector patrol. “Lt Cdr Pavilion is doing well, Captain?” said Lei’ri, as concerned about her as d’Ka. “Yes, ‘Ri,” he replied, settling into the command chair. “She knows that the Toronto will stay in the area, and that Iowa will arrive soon. She was glad to know that we were close, and monitoring the ship. She can definitely hold her own.” A satisfied nod to the Qr’var executive officer, and he moved on, tapping a small device on his belt. “My priority alert went off while on station.” “Yes, Captain,” Lei’ri replied. “It was not flagged, so I ordered it to your console.” Nodding, d’Ka pulled it close and scanned through, but within seconds he stopped abruptly and blanked the screen. “Commander, the conference room, now. Mr. Tan,” d’Ka stood, speaking to the operations officer, “call Colonel Anastis and Commander Grigori to the conference room immediately. Mr. Doland, wait for my order on the course change. Mr. Tan, you have the conn.” A series of “Aye, sir,” followed the officers as they left the bridge, the door to the conference room closing swiftly behind them. “They have found the crew of USS Vladivostok,” d’Ka began as he rounded the conference table and tapped its top to engage the wall screen. Lei’ri’s expression lit up; he joined d’Ka at the screen, arms crossed to listen. “One of their crew escaped and delivered a datacrystal to Rendezvous October.” “October?” Lei’ri raised a brow. “Who on Vladivostok has October clearance?” “No one,” d’Ka replied. “According to the report, Captain Belton gave the crystal to their operations officer, Lieutenant Madelyn Logan. She stole an alien craft, entered the coordinates the captain gave her, and left, not knowing where she was going or what was on the crystal. She was bound for Sky Harbor Aegis when her vessel lost all power, and…” he paused to consider the next few words, “...was rescued by Captain Chirakis, who was flying in the opposite direction.” Lei’ri’s arms dropped to his sides as he regarded his commanding officer. “Captain,” he began, eyes slightly narrowed, “what are the odds that Captain Chirakis would be in the exact same area of space at the exact same time?” A slight knowing smile broke into the Sindar’s expression. “You are my ever-vigilant watchdog, ‘Ri—as well you should be. I did not break the Sindar code, I just… bent it a little. It’s wasn’t exactly a connection; it was more of a nudge, and I am fully aware of the consequences.” “Colonel, Commander.” D’Ka and Lei’ri turned to the opening conference room door. “Join us. We are going to put aside our boarding plans for the moment; we have an urgent mission.” The captain’s swipe along the tabletop opened several screens to show a remote area of space, images of several spacecraft, small and large, some in flight and some berthed, and a closeup of a species no one recognized, not even the computer. “The crew of USS Vladivostok has been located on a remote nebular planetoid, here.” One screen zoomed in. "It is reported to be cold, but not uninhabitable, composed mostly of granite with little to no vegetation. We are presently en route to Valaria, but will change course within the hour and run silent at best speed for extraction. "The aliens..." another screen took precedence, "...are believed to be humanoid. Head and face are always covered, reason unknown. We have no idea who they are, and nothing of their capabilities or purpose, but we do know what they are technologically advanced and hostile. "Their ships..." images of various craft filled all screens, "...are similar to the one we have been watching. However, the presence of older Federation craft, Romulan warbirds, and customized small craft are noted here, and here. Where these images were taken is unknown, so we will expect at least some craft to be on planet unless we hear otherwise in the next few hours. “Colonel Anastis, your Nightmares will conduct planetary reconnaissance. Commander Grigori, your Banshees will move in to rescue. The nebula is dense and will not allow transporter use, so it will be a shuttle recovery. Missouri’s Crusaders will provide cover. Missouri will stay within weapons range. Questions so far?" The two officers studied the screens, then gave a collective, “No, sir.” “Vladivostok’s crew numbered 128. Some are known to be dead, and some are severely injured. Pull all your medical personnel into the operation. Missouri’s medical will assist—from Peacekeepers if need be—but your teams should be prepared to carry the injured out. Get with your teams, formulate your plan, and coordinate with the squadron commander. Questions?” “Yes, Captain,” said Grigori, manipulating the planetary screen. “Do we have any more information on the planet, itself? Gravity, tectonic stability?” “What information we have on the planet and the crew’s exact location has been uploaded to your personal slates, but we will not rely on it. When we are in range, Cdr Stevenson in science will give us a more comprehensive assessment.” “Armaments? Ships in orbit?” asked Anastis. “Do we know where these images came from?” “In answer to your first, we know of no ships in orbit, but we will know when we arrive. As for the images, Vladivostok’s commanding officer, Captain Belton, furnished them.” Belton's image appeared onscreen. “They were in a file delivered by an escapee. Starfleet Intelligence has examined them and determined them to be genuine. As for armaments and orbital protection, we will learn more when we arrive.” “How long have they been there, Captain?” Grigori’s frown deepened as he read through the information on his slate. “Vladivostok entered that nebula for exploration over three weeks ago. And no,” d’Ka interjected, anticipating his question, “we do not know if they are even alive, but until we have proof that they are dead, they are alive.” After a few moments of checking the screen and referring to their slates, the officers seemed satisfied. “ETA to the planetoid is five hours. You will be informed as soon as updates arrive. If there is nothing else, carry on.” A few minutes after the officers left found the Sindar captain and his Qr’var first officer staring at the closed conference room door. They remained there for several minutes more. Finally, Lei’ri broke the silence. “Are they alive, Captain?” “Yes, ‘Ri,” he replied, his eyes a deep purple. “They are. But they may not be for long.”
  14. Seek and Hide Cptn Jerit d’Ka Lt Col Victor Anastis focused on the observation monitor in USS Missouri’s Special Operations holodeck, following the progress of his reconnaissance team as they navigated a starship boarding program. Standing next to him, Cdr Mark Grigori watched his extraction team expertly slip toward a target deep within the same starship. Using body language and quick, clear hand signals, both teams maneuvered silently toward their goals. USS Missouri had been tracking an alien ship as it slipped just as silently through a nebula, then stopped just shy of Aegis space. As the Joint Special Operations element attached to USS Missouri, the two officers' duty was to prepare for anything—including boarding that ship. As they watched, they realized that what they were doing now would probably be useless in a few minutes because they lacked basic information. The alien ship was essentially unreadable, which meant that they had no intelligence on the internal specifications of the ship. Their training programs were no more than educated guesses, pieced together from external observation. With that in mind, the program constantly changed to reflect updates from the ship’s tactical assessment team that focused on targeting the most likely location of strategic areas: bridge, weapons control, engineering, and communications—not necessarily in that order. Still, if the teams came out with nothing else, they gained a lot of training in rapidly shifting scenarios. “Okay,” mused Anastis, his gaze dropping from the team progress monitor to the latest report from Missouri’s engineers. “I’m going with their suggestion to push the engineering section farther forward, amidships.” He gestured at the on-screen diagram. “It’s not common, but we’re not dealing with ‘common’ anymore. There’re signs of exhaust here...” his laser pointer circled an area, “...intake here. And the way they’re maneuvering, I’d say we should go with that.” “Um.” Gregori pursed his lips to chew on that while he watched one team approach the alien bridge and take a knee. “All teams, hold position,” he said over the team com, then turned to Anastis. “Okay, but I’m still not good with the communications area, especially if we move engineering there. What’s your take?” “Operations says that most of the signals they’ve picked up originate here,” again the laser, “making it their transmission site, not necessarily the point of origin. But if we take that out, we still have a leg up. Let’s move the bridge here.” A finger flick relocated the bridge. “That actually makes sense. We'll put the com area here, engineering control here...” he dropped them in, “...and leave weapons where it is.” Grigori thought for a moment, then nodded. “Reconfigure the bulkheads, ingress, egress, alarms, and security, and we’ll go with it. While you’re at it, throw in a few booby traps.” Anastis reset the program. Grigori engaged the com. “All teams, fall back to infil. Expect a reconfiguration. Report ready and stand by.” * * * * * Though USS Missouri’s stop at Aegis was brief, Captain d’Ka’s meeting with Lt Cdr Pavilion, Officer in Command, not only gave him the opportunity to calm her nerves, it gave him the opportunity to watch her work and sense her ease with command. He had no doubt she was capable; his only concern was her confidence. “Commander Lei’ri, take us out,” he said, striding smoothly from Missouri’s command lift onto the bridge. Has there been any change in the alien’s position?” “No, Captain; they’re still holding,” Lei’ri replied. “Very well. As soon as we are clear of Aegis, take a standard vector toward Valaria. Prepare for a course change beyond the nebula to reestablish our watch position.” “Mr. Doland,” Lei’ri said to the helmsman, “you know the drill.” After a crisp, “Aye, sir,” docking disengaged, station tenders backed off, and the Akira Class Battlecruiser eased away from Aegis, pivoted, and entered the standard corridor for departure, making it appear that it was resuming sector patrol. “Lt Cdr Pavilion is doing well, Captain?” said Lei’ri, as concerned about her as d’Ka. “Yes, ‘Ri,” he replied, settling into the command chair. “She knows that the Toronto will stay in the area, and that Iowa will arrive soon. She was glad to know that we were close, and monitoring the ship. She can definitely hold her own.” A satisfied nod to the Qr’var executive officer, and he moved on, tapping a small device on his belt. “My priority alert went off while on station.” “Yes, Captain,” Lei’ri replied. “It was not flagged, so I ordered it to your console.” Nodding, d’Ka pulled it close and scanned through, but within seconds he stopped abruptly and blanked the screen. “Commander, the conference room, now. Mr. Tan,” d’Ka stood, speaking to the operations officer, “call Colonel Anastis and Commander Grigori to the conference room immediately. Mr. Doland, wait for my order on the course change. Mr. Tan, you have the conn.” A series of “Aye, sir,” followed the officers as they left the bridge, the door to the conference room closing swiftly behind them. “They have found the crew of USS Vladivostok,” d’Ka began as he rounded the conference table and tapped its top to engage the wall screen. Lei’ri’s expression lit up; he joined d’Ka at the screen, arms crossed to listen. “One of their crew escaped and delivered a datacrystal to Rendezvous October.” “October?” Lei’ri raised a brow. “Who on Vladivostok has October clearance?” “No one,” d’Ka replied. “According to the report, Captain Belton gave the crystal to their operations officer, Lieutenant Madelyn Logan. She stole an alien craft, entered the coordinates the captain gave her, and left, not knowing where she was going or what was on the crystal. She was bound for Sky Harbor Aegis when her vessel lost all power, and…” he paused to consider the next few words, “...was rescued by Captain Chirakis, who was flying in the opposite direction.” Lei’ri’s arms dropped to his sides as he regarded his commanding officer. “Captain,” he began, eyes slightly narrowed, “what are the odds that Captain Chirakis would be in the exact same area of space at the exact same time?” A slight knowing smile broke into the Sindar’s expression. “You are my ever-vigilant watchdog, ‘Ri—as well you should be. I did not break the Sindar code, I just… bent it a little. It’s wasn’t exactly a connection; it was more of a nudge, and I am fully aware of the consequences.” “Colonel, Commander.” D’Ka and Lei’ri turned to the opening conference room door. “Join us. We are going to put aside our boarding plans for the moment; we have an urgent mission.” The captain’s swipe along the tabletop opened several screens to show a remote area of space, images of several spacecraft, small and large, some in flight and some berthed, and a closeup of a species no one recognized, not even the computer. “The crew of USS Vladivostok has been located on a remote nebular planetoid, here.” One screen zoomed in. "It is reported to be cold, but not uninhabitable, composed mostly of granite with little to no vegetation. We are presently en route to Valaria, but will change course within the hour and run silent at best speed for extraction. "The aliens..." another screen took precedence, "...are believed to be humanoid. Head and face are always covered, reason unknown. We have no idea who they are, and nothing of their capabilities or purpose, but we do know what they are technologically advanced and hostile. "Their ships..." images of various craft filled all screens, "...are similar to the one we have been watching. However, the presence of older Federation craft, Romulan warbirds, and customized small craft are noted here, and here. Where these images were taken is unknown, so we will expect at least some craft to be on planet unless we hear otherwise in the next few hours. “Colonel Anastis, your Nightmares will conduct planetary reconnaissance. Commander Grigori, your Banshees will move in to rescue. The nebula is dense and will not allow transporter use, so it will be a shuttle recovery. Missouri’s Crusaders will provide cover. Missouri will stay within weapons range. Questions so far?" The two officers studied the screens, then gave a collective, “No, sir.” “Vladivostok’s crew numbered 128. Some are known to be dead, and some are severely injured. Pull all your medical personnel into the operation. Missouri’s medical will assist—from Peacekeepers if need be—but your teams should be prepared to carry the injured out. Get with your teams, formulate your plan, and coordinate with the squadron commander. Questions?” “Yes, Captain,” said Grigori, manipulating the planetary screen. “Do we have any more information on the planet, itself? Gravity, tectonic stability?” “What information we have on the planet and the crew’s exact location has been uploaded to your personal slates, but we will not rely on it. When we are in range, Cdr Stevenson in science will give us a more comprehensive assessment.” “Armaments? Ships in orbit?” asked Anastis. “Do we know where these images came from?” “In answer to your first, we know of no ships in orbit, but we will know when we arrive. As for the images, Vladivostok’s commanding officer, Captain Belton, furnished them.” Belton's image appeared onscreen. “They were in a file delivered by an escapee. Starfleet Intelligence has examined them and determined them to be genuine. As for armaments and orbital protection, we will learn more when we arrive.” “How long have they been there, Captain?” Grigori’s frown deepened as he read through the information on his slate. “Vladivostok entered that nebula for exploration over three weeks ago. And no,” d’Ka interjected, anticipating his question, “we do not know if they are even alive, but until we have proof that they are dead, they are alive.” After a few moments of checking the screen and referring to their slates, the officers seemed satisfied. “ETA to the planetoid is five hours. You will be informed as soon as updates arrive. If there is nothing else, carry on.” A few minutes after the officers left found the Sindar captain and his Qr’var first officer staring at the closed conference room door. They remained there for several minutes more. Finally, Lei’ri broke the silence. “Are they alive, Captain?” “Yes, ‘Ri,” he replied, his eyes a deep purple. “They are. But they may not be for long.”
  15. The Vladivostok Maneuver USS Missouri Undisclosed Mission Sector 51, Grid Sigma Stardate 2388.012 “Commander Lei’ri?” Missouri’s Executive Officer turned from his conversation with their Chief Science Officer to face the tall Vulcan at tactical. “Yes, Mr. Sojek?” “I am detecting starship activity in the nearby nebula, very close to the area you are investigating. One ship that appears to be a Federation Oberth Class refit matching the description of USS Vladivostok.” “Onscreen.” Lei’ri returned to the command chair and pulled the master command console close. “Nebular interference is skewing the results, Commander,” continued Sojek. “With your permission, I will ask the Warren to use their advanced technology for penetration.” “Of course, and request a direct feed to Missouri. Mr. Tan,” Lei’ri turned to their operations officer, “call the captain to the bridge and inform the fleet. Mr. Doland, hold position.” “What do we have, Commander?” said the captain as the door to his ready room closed behind him. “We may have found the Vladivostok, sir,” he replied, vacating the command chair, “just inside the nebula that intrigued Lieutenant Commander Stevenson. He was investigating the nebular anomaly when Mr. Sojek reported ship contact. We should have… yes,” Lei’ri flicked a finger toward the main viewscreen, “USS Warren has cleaned up the image; it’s coming through now.” D’Ka remained standing as USS Warren’s images swept over the screen, resolution and detail slowly emerging to produce the light outline of a starship and eventually its full form, complete with Starfleet insignia, running lights and registration. Everything seemed completely normal, and that it was in a nebula was well suited to its primary purpose: nebular and stellar investigation. Lei’ri settled into his position, but his captain remained standing, his eyes a deep purple, focused well beyond the viewscreen. “Hail them, Captain?” “No, ‘Ri,” d’Ka replied pensively. “Sojek, request a full list of its life forms from USS Warren, and compare them to Vladivostok’s roster.” “Yes, Captain.” Within a few minutes, the tactical officer looked up. “The crew complement is several species, Captain, including Terran, Romulan, Klingon, Tellarite, and Andorian. It does not match the most recent roster of the Vladivostok.” “And its Starfleet transponder ID?” “Is active and correct, Captain.” “Well, ‘Ri,” said d’Ka on a sigh, “It seems we have solved a very small part of the ship’s disappearance.” “And the rest would be who has taken control, what they plan, and what they have done with the Starfleet crew...” “...and where they are going,” d’Ka finished, settling into the command chair. “Mr. Tan, inform Starfleet of our situation. Command the task force to maintain their present posture; they are not to show any indication whatsoever that the ship has been sighted. Request an analysis from USS Warren of Vladivostok’s present course, including possible origin and destination, and... alert Captain Wimsett of USS Ramius that his Marines may be very busy, very soon.” The captain glanced aside to Commander Lei’ri’s faint grin. “Have I forgotten anything?” “No, Captain. That should do it.”