Ricochet

[Cptn d'Ka 0]

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.