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Star Trek: Pioneer Rating: R (For language, sexual references, and Sci-Fi violence) USS
Diocletian did almost nothing on a small scale. When she engaged her massive impulse drive,
her wake had to be cleared for thousands of miles astern. When she dropped into warp, her subspace
bubble was large enough to carry away nearby asteroids and up to three Excelsior-class ships along for the
ride. When she let loose her weapons,
wide swaths of destruction were the rule.
When she engaged or disengaged her cloaking device, the perspective of
her backdrop changed dramatically. She
was not designed for subtlety, which made the secretive nature of her masters
all the more ironic. She was a
dreadnought, a super weapon, built for nothing less than the biggest of big
wars, but currently she was being used as an espionage hub and she was not well
suited for it. Nevertheless, her crew
had little choice in the matter, and so she conformed to the wishes of her crew
in her biggest of big ways. Although not built specifically for
speed, there was no question she had the power for it. Cruising along beyond the design limits of
her three warp cores, she managed a respectable (almost suicidal) warp 9.92 for
three weeks until she arrived at the last known location of Pioneer. Her arrival could
hardly have been missed had an observer been nearby. Despite her powerful cloaking device, her
subspace wake stirred up a rooster tail five times the size of Pioneer’s recent run. The slow fusion gasses played around the
cloaking bubble and displayed its revolutionary elliptical footprint for all to
see. The huge, oblong hole in the gasses
resembled a perfectly smooth and lustrous ball of oil rolling along the blue
surface of the Great Barrier. The ball
simultaneously reflected the light of the Barrier and allowed the light of it
pass through. The ball of oil tended to
lack a continuous outline and seemed to fade in blotchy patches into
nothingness. The eye of an observer
would have struggled to focus on the huge object playing in the dust. The inventors of the Starfleet
cloaking technology based their first generation of their model on captured
Romulan technology current in the 2320’s.
Over the next three updates, the device had evolved in almost every way
but one: it still ran on an artificial singularity kept separate from the main
power supply. The system could operate
under conditions that would overload the output of the largest Starbase
generators and was considered flawless even by defected, Romulan
engineers. Therefore, it was much to
Captain Semmes annoyance that her cloaked ship was so brazenly exposed. A further examination of the data informed
her that the singularity inside the device was drawing the dust from the Great
Barrier up into the ship’s path making the Diocletian’s
impulse engines and main deflector struggle against this artificial tide of
fusion dust. In disgust, she ordered the
cloak dropped and the sensor shrouds activated. The massive dreadnought seemed to
glide out of the oily bubble instead of shimmer into existence. Her proud lines exposed to the scrutiny of
the stars for the first time in six years, she eased into the light with a
majestic flourish as the Great Barrier backlit her belly like blue-white stage lights. Sources from inside the Klingon Empire spoke
of a cloaking device test bed that had been running for over eighty years
straight, but these six years represented the longest any Federation ship had
ever been continuously cloaked. That too
annoyed Semmes because she knew the USS
Trajin, having activated her cloak about a week after the Diocletian, would soon hold the record
for marathon cloaking runs. Semmes could
never hope to regain the title for at least a decade. That is not to say dropping the
cloak was not without its advantages.
Sensor range was cut in half by the cloak, and the detail they gleaned
was inhibited in direct proportion to the output of the device. With the cloak down, a thousand sensor
stations were active for the first time in years, and the crew scrambled to
make use of them. Semmes now had at her
disposal a near godlike vision of the space around her for light years in every
direction. She did not intend to
squander the opportunity. “I want all science duty shifts at
general quarters,” Captain Semmes ordered. King nodded, “Aye, sir. Should we include the tactical personnel as
well?” Semmes rolled her eyes
impatiently. “Yeesss!” she hissed
drawing out the word to imply that detail was childishly obvious. King nodded again. A man had to grow a thick skin around Angela
Semmes, and after seven years, his was thick bordering on obstinence. “Aye, sir,” he said again before he began
calling up duty rosters and department heads.
Within fifteen minutes, the ship bustled with all the fury of a pitched
battle. King thought the time a bit long
and wanted to trim it a bit, but he did not want to tell Semmes that yet. Better to wait and have drills organized
while the ship was cloaked or the Captain was otherwise preoccupied. “Report on the Hirogen net,” Semmes
ordered. Lieutenant Tevel answered her in his
flat, calm, voice, “The nodes in this area are active. The six we shut down are functioning again.” “Are
we locked out of the system?” Semmes asked. “No, sir,” Tevel replied, “our
access codes still work.” “Check to see if the shrouds are
sufficient to hide us,” Semmes ordered. Tevel returned to his station and
manipulated the nodes’ sensor grid for a moment or two before announcing, “We
are not detected.” “Good,” Semmes purred. “Now try to find the threshold where we will
be detected by the net, and be thorough about it. I want no surprises from
these things.” She turned to Lieutenant
Green, and raised a questioning eyebrow, “Do you have anything of interest
yet?” Green was grateful he did.
“Starfleet warp signature, badly garbled,” he said. “I’ve confirmed an intercept coarse with
navigation.” “Splendid!” Semmes said. “Commander Dar‘Moth, engage intercept course
on my mark.” Lieutenant Commander Dar’Moth tapped
a few keys on his panel. When he was
satisfied, the Cardassian informed Semmes he was ready. “Tactical,” Semmes barked
cheerfully, “Intercept time to target.” Lieutenant Lien was hesitant to
answer her. “I’m not sure, sir. The readings from the warp trail are too
garbled to estimate an accurate target velocity.” Semmes’ good mood evaporated. “Is that true, Green?” she asked angrily. Green shook his head, “We could know
within two points of actual warp, but I’ll agree with Tactical on this one,
that’s a wide margin of error.” “Then we must take steps to narrow
that margin,” Semmes snapped. “Launch a
full spread of shrouded probes along Pioneer’s
trajectory.” Lien obeyed, and half a dozen Mark
147S probes raced out of the forward torpedo launchers. Like hunting dogs, they traced the faint
scent left behind Pioneer then fanned
out around the trail to get the clearest possible picture. Spacing themselves 2,000 kilometers apart,
they shot data via coded lasers to each other for compilation and transmission
back to the Diocletian. Semmes did not order the ship to
follow the probes yet. The probes were
small, and their shrouds should be more effective against the snooping eyes of
the Hirogen Net than the field around the dreadnought. No vessel this large could call itself
invisible to the naked eye, but the Hirogen sensor net only activated sensor
eyes if other network tripwires were crossed.
She wanted to know what Tevel’s evaluation of the sensitivity of the net
was before she went charging after the probes. While the cloaking device was a high
power, full-spectrum blind to sensors, shrouding technology concentrated on
blunting long-range sensors, active sensor sweeps, passive emissions, and
non-optical detection. Every ship in the
Federation fleet had a shroud including Pioneer. It did not make the ship impossible to see,
but it did make it hard to find without impairing the abilities of the vessel
at all. Electronic Countermeasures were
the next step in the shroud, but that was an active system that could be
detected if not pinpointed. The shroud
by comparison was a device to use when, metaphorically, the lights were already
out, the enemy was blinded or not looking in a deliberate manner, or in a
scouting capacity where the full arsenal of the Diocletian’s sensors were needed.
The shroud aboard Diocletian
was top-shelf and state-of-the-art.
Under normal cruising conditions, it could obscure their warp trail, but
it could do nothing but fan out and disperse their impulse wake or a high-speed
warp run. “How badly is Pioneer damaged?” she asked. “I have a department working on that
right now,” King replied, “a full report should be forthcoming within the
hour. Estimates indicate port nacelle
damage and warp core breaching. No
estimates available on impulse drive yet.” Semmes splayed her perfect, white,
practically new teeth in the smile of a Cheshire cat. Her eyes glittered with satisfaction
bordering on sexual climax. “Peyter
limped away from the encounter here,” she purred, “That will make tracking him
easier for the Hirogen.” She rubbed her
hands lightly against each other with long sensual glides along her palms with
her fingertips. It was an unconscious
gesture, but her crew was familiar with it.
Rumor had it she could achieve climax in this manner, and there were
solid reports she was studded with gooseflesh beneath her uniform whenever she
did it. “Mr. Green, what is the status
of the Puppeteer project?” Green smiled, “Ready for its first
test, Captain.” “Wonderful,” Semmes said. “I’ll compile a treatment for a test by the
end of the day. Have the project heads
meet me in my ready room in two hours.”
She turned to Tevel, “Mr. Tevel, can we proceed through the net in this
mode?” Tevel was adamant in his response,
“Not without sufficient data from tactical.
We may be able to fool the net, but a Hirogen ship is another matter.” Semmes was not deterred from her
good mood. “Mr. Lien, do you have
positions and telemetry data of all the Hirogen ships in this sector?” “Forwarding that data to Mr. Tevel
now, sir,” Lien replied. Tevel studied the data for a moment
then nodded approvingly. “Space secure
for shroud running,” he announced. “Engage intercept course, Mr. Dar’Moth. Mr. Genghis, perform a system wide diagnostic
on the cloaking device and perform any maintenance it should require.” The Diocletian heaved its massive bulk away from the Great Barrier and
pointed her prow towards the dust cloud Koon’s people had dubbed “no man’s
land.” An instant later her mighty warp
drive, so large it required three nacelles just to displace the energy, flashed
to life and threw the ship into subspace.
Behind her, another rooster tail flattened and distorted the surface of
the Great Barrier like a foot slapping down on fine dust. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Far off in the distant cloud of
No-Man’s-Land, a Hirogen network node was looking at the Great Barrier. It was an old node and had floated serenely
at this point in space for 30,000 years.
It was manufactured and placed there during the expansion of the Hirogen
Empire and had blithely ignored (and been ignored by) history ever since. Its design was so solid, so rugged, and so
well thought out it still had a few millennia ahead of its useful life, but in
its entire long, lonely sojourn here, it had never seen a thing of interest to
its makers. Not to say that was uncommon
for a node. The vastness of space
changes at a pace so slow and incremental, the theologically minded observer
could be justified in thinking the Almighty afraid of the time He set in
motion, and these nodes could provide masses of data to argue the point. In hindsight, the effort to build, place, and
even ignore these nodes would seem a massive waste of time and energy since
they provided nothing in exchange for much. …Until now. Looking down on the surface of the
Great Barrier, the node finally saw something.
Something big. While it had missed the antics of Pioneer by a narrow margin, the Diocletian was an order of magnitude
harder to miss. Still, what the node saw
was not the outline of a Federation Dreadnought. It saw something far more useful. When the Diocletian
raced away from the Great Barrier, the node saw the footprint of a massive
ship and the energies it commanded outlined against the backdrop of the
blue-white surface of slow fusion gases. Looking up a subroutine in its
software, the node reviewed the transmission procedure for the first time in its
long life and transmitted the data to the rest of the network. The information was ominous though the node did
not have the processing power to realize it.
In plain terms: the disturbance in the dust told the Hirogen a predator
was on the loose. A big predator with the size and energy to justify a huge appetite. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Koon began
slowing the ship days before they arrived at the Cove system. This was good for a number of reasons, but
the first two on the list were the easiest to understand. First: the warp core would last longer and
run further before it had to be shut down.
Gordon had been telling Koon for a week to slow the ship down before a
catastrophic and unpredictable failure occurred, but the Captain wanted as much
distance between the hunters and themselves as he could before he risked even a
moment’s hesitation. Second: Koon wanted
the system scouted out in considerable detail before Pioneer arrived. Launching
shuttles at warp was a tricky process at any time, but Pioneer had the added complexity of having shuttles only capable of
warp 4. Koon had managed to keep the
ship at warp 8 since their initial dash from the Great Barrier, so dropping off
the shuttles to scout out the system made little sense if they arrived a week
or two after the ship did. Much to Gordon’s relief, Captain
Koon gradually brought the ship all the way down to warp one before he ordered
the shuttles launched. He kept four of
his surviving twenty-three shuttles aboard Pioneer
in the event that he somehow needed them, and sent Okuma out with the
rest. The shuttle mission served a dual
purpose. The first was to scout the
system out for a possible obit to rebuild the ship in. But
the next one reflected a more pressing concern in Peyter’s eyes. He was desperately short of pilots and
navigators after his time near the Great Barrier, and he needed all he could
train in short order. Fortunately, the
trip to Cove was not terribly complicated once the shuttles were launched. With some serious transporter time and some
fancy footwork, Lieutenant Forte managed to launch all the shuttles, and turn
them over to the trainee crews in under an hour before transporting over to
Okuma’s shuttle leading the pack on to the distant star. Each crew consisted of a pair of
prospective pilot/navigators since Okuma insisted on everyone involved with the
training get as thorough an education as possible on the subject. Koon and Gordon took over the training and
handling aboard Pioneer herself while
the gaggle of shuttles roamed ahead of the ship. Commander Okuma was in charge of the
flight schedule, and she had gone so far as to check with Koon before she
deliberately put Forte in her personal shuttle.
She managed to stay professional and cool while they had Pioneer in sight, but as the larger ship
fell behind them, she began to feel nervous.
Travel time to Cove would be a week at warp 4, and during that time she
would have Forte all to herself. It took
every speck of resolve she had in her to keep from blurting out her feelings
for the younger man once the shuttle dashed ahead of the ship. For his part, Forte kept a close eye
on the other shuttles. “The Pike’s Cutoff is lagging behind,” he
grumbled. “That Cabrillo kid better get
a clue before I let him loose at Cove.” Struggling to order her thoughts,
Okuma had to agree with Forte. “I thought
Kree could manage the ship.” Forte nodded and tapped the display
to emphasize his point. “She can. That’s why I’m griping about Cabrillo. She wouldn’t let that shuttle go so far
astray if she were at the controls.” The primary job of any First Officer
is looking after the people under them, and Samantha took this job very
seriously. She was not a gossip before
she had accepted Koon’s offer for the position, but the job had turned her into
one. Often as not, she spent hours
chasing down rumors and hearsay just to keep appraised of the mood of the
crew. One such rumor that had led to
some serious trouble in the past involved one of the scientists brewing
hallucinogenic drugs in his lab for his own use. That had been an ugly episode, but some good
things came from it. The addicted
scientist was now undergoing treatment, and was doing some useful work with Dr.
Totem. Stuff of this nature left a bad
taste in Sam’s mouth when she pried into folks lives, but there was no helping
it. Gossip was one of the tools she had,
and she had little choice but to use it.
If that meant she had to nosey from time-to-time, then she could console
herself with the knowledge that she would not go blabbing about the ship if the
information did not affect the majority of the crew. On the side, she cropped up all sorts of
sordid stories she wished she could forget.
One such story in the last week implied Cabrillo and Kree were lovers. The third watch officer had reported
complaints regarding the Planetarium three days ago. Apparently, someone was locking the door and
creating all kinds of racket between the second and first duty watch down
there. The obvious culprit would be
Cabrillo since he spent almost every waking moment in the room, but the
addition of Kree to the rumor beggared Sam’s credulity. The thought of the short, austere Andorian
and the tall, lanky, and painfully shy David Cabrillo together struck her as
nothing short of impossible. For one:
Andorians did not prefer humans as companions for some reason they could not
describe… …Much like she could not describe
why she found Forte so attractive. To be
sure Darin was a hansom man by any measure, but that wasn’t what kept her
attention coming back to him. The fact
of the matter was she found a new reason to dwell on him every day. The things he did and said and the manner in
which he composed himself added up to a muse she found both inviting and
engaging…. Dammit!
She raged to herself. Get your mind off him for two minutes,
girl! Get a grip! This trip isn’t for playtime. There’s work to be done. The trouble was that was patently
false. Aside from a few minor
adjustments to the shuttle’s systems, Samantha and Darin had nothing to do for
the next week. Thinking about all she
wanted to say to the man only made the time ahead more tedious a prospect. So what
do I do now? she asked herself, grab
him by the shoulders and smother him in kisses until he relents? The idea was not without its charms, but she
dismissed it with a miserable humph. “Something on your mind, Commander?”
Forte asked without looking up from his work.
When she did not answer for a long time, he turned to face her. His expression was one of personal concern
for her. “Commander?” he asked again. She gave up. There was no way she could think of to phrase
it without sounding… well… like a love struck teenager. With a dramatic sigh she began, “I have a
problem, Lieutenant.” Forte nodded. His eyes shifted up to hers and stared at her
innocently. “What would that be? I trust I’m not boring you already on this
trip.” He assumed an exaggerated mode of
speech and his eyes went wide with mock horror, “I’ve doomed the mission to
failure by not properly entertaining my superior officer! Regulation 88-dash-66-dash-110A clearly states:
‘ALL HELSMEN MUST AMUSE THE FIRST OFFICER FOR THE DURATION OF AWAY
MISSIONS.’” He threw up his hands in an
appeal to a higher power for justice. “Lieutenant,” Sam chided quietly. “YEARS OF TRAINING WASTED!” Darin bawled as if he had not heard her. “THE SHAME OF THIS STAIN ON THE FAMILY HONOR
WILL NEVER BE ERASED!” “Darin!” Sam said a bit louder. Forte fell out of his chair with a
heavy thud to the deck and kneeled in front of her, “I’M RUINED!” he moaned,
“ALL HISTORY WILL BLACKEN MY NAME FOR FAILING SAMANTHA OKUMA!” Sam began to giggle. Despite her best efforts, she could not keep
her voice even. “This isn’t behavior
becoming an officer, Darin Forte.” “NOW I’VE MADE AN ASS OF
MYSELF! Wait… you’ve already seen my
ass.” His voice turned quiet and
crafty. His eyes darted from side to
side as if he were looking for eavesdroppers.
“How do I make my superior officer forget I paraded my bum before her
discriminating eye? The instructors at
the Academy were rather lax on the subject of how to make amends for mooning Commanders. Ensigns, Lieutenants, and enlisted NCO’s were
covered but not Commanders. How foolish
of me to cut class the day they covered it!” Samantha laughed. It took a moment to realize how long it had
been since she had laughed. She had been
so wrapped up in the crisis back on Pioneer
she had lost all patience with jokes recently.
As the spasms racked her lungs and split her face into a careless grin,
she felt a vast relief wash over her like a warm shower. Forte smiled at her and returned to
his seat. He made a glance at the
monitor as her laughter subsided to giggles again then returned his attention
to Sam. In a confiding voice he asked,
“So what’s the problem, Commander?” “Ugh!” she groaned. When he called her “Commander” all the
tension came back to her as responsibilities came crashing down with it. “Let’s dispense with rank for now, Darin,
alright? I need a break from being the
First Officer.” Forte smiled, “Sounds good. In fact, would the Great and Terrible ‘Dragon
Sam’ care for some breakfast? I missed
out on mine this morning.” “Do they really call me that?” Okuma
asked. Forte shrugged, “Only means you’re
tough,” he said then added, “but still loved.” Sam slumped in her seat. “I certainly don’t feel loved anymore,” she
admitted miserably. Forte waved a dismissive hand, “A
short break will change your outlook. To
tell you the truth, I’m glad to be here with you.” Sam felt a nervous flutter of
hope. “Why?” Forte assumed a knowing smile and
told her in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “It’s a special bond a man shares
with a fellow officer he’s mooned. I
have it on good authority it’s an uncommon rare occurrence in the Fleet.” “You’re right,” Sam agreed wryly. “I should have run away from you the
instant you saw my butt,” he added. “I would have stood in line for the
sight,” Sam admitted. Darin laughed this time then made
his way back to the replicator.
Privately Sam thought this was going better than it had any right to
be. She had the long-standing habit of
keeping her guard firmly in place while Darin had a knack for getting her to
drop it. If things continued in this
vein without progressing to the degree of intimacy she desired, this would be a
refreshing trip for her just the same. Darin ordered a plate of eggs and
rice with a glass of juice to wash it down.
Sam knew he was either oblivious to her feelings or hiding his response
with remarkable finesse. “What do you
want…Samantha?” he asked a bit nervously.
Addressing her by her first name was new in his mouth and mind, and it
was clear it did not quite fit right. Still… Sam thought the sound of her name had a wonderful
ring to it when spoken in his clear, tenor voice. “It’s been so long since anyone has said my
name to me,” she said. “I thought the Captain did it all
the time,” Darin said. Sam shook her head, “Nah, when we’re
alone it comes down to ‘Pete’ and ‘Sam.’ I don’t think I’ve heard ‘Samantha’ in
years.” A shadow crossed Forte’s face for a
moment. “Are you two...?” he began to
ask but trailed off as he thought better of it. Sam grinned at him. “Intimate?” she challenged. Darin shrugged nervously. “It’s none of my business, but the rumor is
that you two…” he trailed off unable to muster the nerve to say his thoughts
aloud. Sam did not want him to suffer for
his interest, but he looked so adorable with that uncomfortable expression on his
handsome face. After a short pause she
told him, “No, Darin, Peyter and I are good friends, but he’s devoted to his
wife back home.” The shadow on Darin’s face appeared
again. “What about you?” he asked. “I’m interested in someone, but of
course everyone on the ship is one of my subordinates so I’m at a loss how to
begin things,” she told him truthfully enough. To her surprise Darin dropped the
glass of juice in his hand. A blank look
of shock crossed his face and his mouth opened and closed a number of
times. A bit belatedly he shifted his
attention to the spill on the floor then back to her, then back to the spill
again. He stooped to pick it up and put
the plate in his other hand down. She
could see his hands trembling slightly. Sam had to stare at the man. Ordinarily Darin’s nerves were solid
ice. To see him this badly rattled
struck her as downright alarming. “Did I
say something wrong?” she asked. For a long minute Darin said
nothing. Looking at the floor he finally
admitted, “I don’t know how to begin things either.” He looked up with hopeful blue eyes and
added, “But I want things to begin with you.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Far behind them, the Pike’s Cutoff was acting out something
very similar to the events with Okuma and Forte. The chief difference was there was no
pretense or hesitation on Kree or Cabrillo’s part. The blessed privacy of the shuttle allowed
them a marvelous opportunity to enjoy each other in ways they had to restrain
aboard Pioneer. Forte had been right about Cabrillo piloting
the shuttle, but he had missed the reason why the astronomer could not get the Pike’s Cutoff running with the rest of
the shuttles. The trouble was with Kree
whispering the instructions in his ear between nips and kisses while he
struggled to concentrate. She almost did
not allow him to drop into warp when she did something to his neck that sent a
violent chill down his spine. “I adore the way you respond to me,”
Kree whispered in his ear once he engaged the warp drive. “It makes me feel so wanted.” “Have no fear on that score,” David
said. “I can’t get enough of you.” She kissed him tenderly on the lips
and sat down in his lap. She stared
levelly into his eyes for a moment, and David had the chance to marvel at how
very blue her eyes were. Truly, no human
eyes could ever hope to be so icy, almost radiant, “I adore you, David,” she said
quietly. Her voice gained a strong
undertone that told him to trust this statement wholly and without
question. He might have replied to her,
but she was good at taking his breath away. Several hours later David untangled
himself from her sleeping body and sat down at the science station. The news from Cove was getting worse. No water.
NONE. Cabrillo could not
understand it. Stars pushed the chemical
makeup of their planets out with their light, and Cove had not even hinted at
this little bugbear when he had surveyed it originally. Furthermore, the data from the planets
themselves did not mesh with the models in his database. The models told him the second, third, and
fourth planets should all have a near M-class environment; something no one in
the history of planetary astronomy had ever dreamed possible. The second planet was small and buffeted by
the solar wind so badly, that much of its atmosphere had blown away leaving a
thin, warm layer of gases above a baked surface. The third planet mirrored the conditions
Earth enjoyed in a cosmic sense being almost an identical mass and distance
from Cove. The fourth planet was an
interesting case in and of itself even without water. For starters, it was almost exactly one and a
half times the size of Earth. That meant
that gravity became a stronger mechanism in the atmosphere than Cove’s radiance
at that distance. Scientists had
searched for years for just such a planet to discover how the weather of such a
world differed from the ones driven by sunlight. The biology of such a place was a close
second in the list of unknowns, but without water, such life had to be silicone
based and all too familiar for all concerned scientists. Fascinating as all the speculation
was about the prospects for these worlds; Dr. Spaulding and Dr. Totem were
growing more concerned with the solar wind of the system. Part of the reason David had miscalculated on
the presence of water in the system was that there was abundant hydrogen and
oxygen being blown off Cove’s corona.
Spaulding had measured the densities of these elements in the solar
wind, and Totem had calculated some fairly alarming predictions. According to Totem, the density of the oxygen
and hydrogen in the Cove system was dangerously close to a flash point. He predicted massive static energies unlike
any ever seen building up between the surface of Cove and the first of the ice
giants. The gist of his concern was
almost laughable. In lay terms: the
empty space between Cove and the ice giants was filled with combustible
hydrogen and oxygen at densities that could see a chain reaction and blow the
Cove system apart, right to the outer belts.
No one had ever heard of a chemical explosion so big, but Totem was
never wrong when his figures were tallied.
Faced with the prospect of flying blindly into a powder keg, Koon had
sent the shuttles ahead to study (and preferably dismiss) this notion. The thinking was that the shuttles could
approach Cove from a safe distance and maneuver out of the way. Pioneer
was so badly mauled that once she dropped out of warp, Chief Gordon
promised no power under creation would start the warp core again without a
total rebuild. With the impulse engines
still out of commission, the chances of them escaping Cove’s gravity once they
arrived was just about nil in the event of an emergency. A sleepy voice interrupted his
thoughts. “David?” Kree yawned from the pile of clothes, pillows,
and sheets they had made on the floor. “Just checking on Cove,” he replied
not looking around. Kree didn’t stir for so long he
thought she had gone back to sleep when she asked, “Anything new?” Cabrillo made a discouraged grunt
and scowled at the data. “I’ll take that as no,” Kree said
sounding more awake than before. “I might be missing something,”
Cabrillo allowed. Much to his surprise, the cabin
lights flashed to full intensity making him blink back the afterimage of blobby
colors and totally obscuring the data beneath them. He turned around and saw Kree standing stark
naked on the other side of the cabin with her hands on her hips. As familiar as he had become with her body,
they had always needed to turn the lights down in order to maintain privacy
before. He had never seen her body
before. In a scolding voice she said, “I
agree, Lieutenant Cabrillo, you are shamelessly missing something.” She spread her arms wide and twirled slowly
around on her toes so he could see every bit of her. Damn, but she could take his breath away! “D-dazzling,” he managed to stammer
out of a mouth gone suddenly dry. Kree walked over to him and made him stand
before her. She spun him about and drank
in the fresh sight of him. Her antennae
seemed to pulse and twitch as her eyes hungrily roamed over him. “I have to say the same for you,” she
said. She was a head and a half shorter
than he, and when she drew him close again, her head lay against his chest, and
her antennae seemed to sniff about his throat.
After a long pause she said, “We have a problem.” “What’s that?” he asked. “I don’t think we can hide this once
we get back to the ship.” Cabrillo had to agree with her. After a long minute holding her he said, “I
can be happy with that, love.” That started things all over again
and this time she wore him down to sleep. Over the next few days they did
little else but enjoy each other.
Neither found an excuse to get dressed during all that time. They talked, loved, and worried about the
future. What they discovered at Cove
kept coming up as the make-or-break linchpin to their plans. If Pioneer
could not find a safe orbit to repair herself, the crew might have to take the
shuttles to all the nearby stars and try to find help. The next step would be to tow Pioneer to a more suitable spot. Some, if not most, of the crew would be sent
home to ease the strain on supplies if things came to that. As ardent as Kree was to stay near
Cabrillo no matter what the consequences to her career, she had little faith in
her ability to keep him at her side if the crew scattered. She was the most senior navigator in the crew,
and no doubt Koon would want her available for his mission to Voyager.
By comparison, David’s fate almost certainly would be among the
homebound. Added to that was the threat of the
Hirogen. Lieutenant M’rath had managed
to wheedle some useful tidbits out of the captive Heartshock and what he
learned was not encouraging. To be
blunt, it was amazing they were all alive.
Heartshock told M’rath Pioneer
not only entered Hirogen space, but had been in Hirogen space for the better
part of two years. The reason why there
was a huge no-man’s-land in the 3KPC arm between the Great Barrier and the
outer Core dust cloud was that the Hirogen had hunted the area out over a
thousand years ago. Rumor had it that Dr. Totem flew
into a rage upon hearing this. Few would
blame him. Of all the people on the
ship, Totem had the highest hopes and the most at stake when First Contact
missions were involved. Half of his
department had languished in idle speculation and private research since their
last First Contact four years ago. Now
the reptilian scientist knew there would be no First Contact missions for the
better part of five more years before they flew out of this barren stretch. To Kree and David this meant that the
crew being sent home had over six years at warp 4 to reach the limits of
Hirogen hunting grounds and presumed safety.
Neither one of them thought shuttles stood a chance against the hunting
ships, and there was no telling what Koon would have to endure to reach a
rendezvous with Janeway in the Delta Quadrant. With the zeal peculiar to new
lovers, Kree and Cabrillo devised a plan to make David indispensable to
Koon. If Pioneer could not be salvaged, perhaps David could act as a scout
for Koon’s Voyager attempt. There was much merit in this line of
thinking. First and foremost, Cabrillo
was an astronomer and knew more about stars in a single glance than most would
ever know. Such a man on point patrol
could help the larger body of Koon’s crew to navigate through the great unknown
they were surrounded by. With Kree being
fed information David sent back to her, the possibility of trimming years off
the trip was very high they imagined. If
that meant they had to spend weeks and months apart while David scouted ahead,
it was far better than the decades they would have to endure for a reunion in
the Alfa Quadrant. With their bodies
thrumming with new passion, any span of time apart seemed an impossible feat of
endurance. Therefore, they schemed, worried,
and on occasion argued, but for the most part, they basked in the love between
them. They were well aware this could be
all too fleeting. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The flight of shuttles arrived at
Cove’s heliopause six days after leaving Pioneer. Once there, they fanned out and made a
careful study of the hydrogen/oxygen concentration inside that boundary. What they found was both encouraging and puzzling. Totem’s calculations had been right after
all. Massive static charges arched
across the system in fits and starts making the outer asteroid belt strobe like
moonlight on ocean waves. The static
only got worse as things got closer to the star. The inner asteroid belt was so bad it looked
like a roiling hoop of light around the star. “I can’t believe I missed that,”
Cabrillo said over the con. “It must
have been lost in the glare of the star.” “Or your search for all that water,
Lieutenant,” Okuma said with uncharacteristic cheer. Forte had been right after all. A little break from being in charge had
changed her outlook remarkably. Not to
mention the frequent romps they enjoyed together. Had the astronomer delivered the bad news
during the first meeting in Koon’s ready room, she might have dressed him down
to Ensign for a mistake of this magnitude, but after her time alone with Darin
she was willing to let this go. “I think
it’s safe to say we’ve never seen anything like it before, so why should you
have been looking for it?” Forte eyed the spectacle with
nothing short of awe. “Amazing!” he
declared. He keyed the com and said,
“Cabrillo, let me take this opportunity to thank you for the rare privilege to
see this. This is…” he searched for the
proper words, “…astonishing! If this is
the sort of thing your mistakes produce, I’m inclined to have you screw up more
often.” Sam laughed. Since the com was on audio only, she muted
the mic, and kissed Darin on the cheek.
He returned the favor with one on the lips before returning his
attention to the readings. One of the unfortunate shortages
Okuma had in her shuttles was a complete absence of engineers. Gordon had argued he needed them to keep Pioneer running and to keep the refit plans
moving along. Sam had agreed with him
the ship was in terrible shape, but the lack even a solitary engineer presented
its shortcomings now. Totem’s calculations
were correct, and they had to figure out how to move about the Cove system
without detonating the hydrogen/oxygen mix with their impulse drives. In addition, the cumulative friction between
the shuttles’ hulls and these gasses would be way off the scale of ordinary radiation
friction. Forte and Kree felt that
beefing up the deflector power in order to keep the ionized wind from arcing
and providing a catalyst for the chain reaction would be impossible, and a few
of the scientists she had brought along worked out the tedious quantum physics
and agreed after two hours of furious argument.
Negatively ionizing the hulls came to mind next, but that was dismissed
as far too risky. Shield modulation,
impulse mixtures, and going back to the ship to retrieve Gordon so that he
could solve the problem were all suggested and dismissed out of hand. Finally, Lieutenant Shin had an idea Okuma liked. “I can warp directly into orbit around Cove-3. Subspace doesn’t have ionized particles, so
we can travel freely about the system that way,” Sophia pointed out. “But you’ll be positively charged
once you drop back into real space,” Forte pointed out. “That won’t matter if I drop into
the atmosphere and gain a negative charge from the friction,” Shin reasoned. Forte turned to Okuma and eyed her
skeptically. “Risky,” he declared. Sam considered this carefully. “That short of a precision jump is possible
isn’t it?” she asked Forte. Darin looked unhappy, but
nodded. “I’d prefer to do it myself in
case something went wrong, and I’ll insist Kree calculate the jump.” Shin was irate, “I can calculate a
jump this short, Darin!” she barked. Forte was remarkably calm. In a soothing tone, he pointed out, “You’ll
be emerging less than a hundred kilometers away from a hard body. You can’t tell me that isn’t dangerous.” “We used to do this back at the
Academy all the time in simulations,” Shin protested. Sitting back and listening to even a
brief moment of bickering, Okuma understood Koon’s admonition to her two weeks
ago when she and Gordon had started arguing.
What had he said? “I’ll tolerate
disagreements, but mindless bickering I’ll not stand for,” or something like
that. From her point of view, she liked
to hear her people tinkering with the idea from all angles, but she had to
admit getting all hot and bothered only wasted time. Leadership was a bitch, but it was a set of
dilemmas she had trained for. Trouble
was the problem seemed to be an engineering problem rather than a command
problem. A leader made decisions and
acted on them, an engineer acted primarily as a technical problem solver, and a
scientist gathered data to draw conclusions.
Sam had two of the three classes of specialists with her, but what she
needed was a problem solver, not decision makers or data analysts. Samantha Okuma had joined Starfleet
at the tender age of sixteen for one reason alone: Command. She longed to be in charge, but she was
strangely content to play second fiddle to Captain Koon. The explanation for this was hard for her to
describe. Certainly, she was a very
young and ambitious officer, but she valued Peyter’s trust over her desire for
her own ship. He had a way of turning
her efforts into positive action she found energizing and inspiring. In many ways, he represented a paternal
figure in her life. At the root of his
appeal was what he offered her from the start: the chance for exploration. Okuma’s idols were from history; namely: the
great explorers from Columbus, Cook, and Perry, to Archer, Pike, and Kirk. Koon offered her a chance to place herself
among the pantheon of these great names and a crack at wonders they barely
dreamed of. So far, that promise had
been of the most prosaic quality only. …That is until now. Cove was a gold mine of wonders dazzling to
behold and fascinating to consider. Okuma
considered her options and noted all of them were efforts to reach the inner
planets on a conventional approach from this side of the system. Maybe exploring the system from the outside
inward would prove more constructive than sitting around arguing about how to
take the direct rout. After all, she had
all these shuttles, why not have them spread out and look around? “I think we’ll rule out the direct path to
Cove-3 for now, people. Split up into
pairs and work around the outer belts.
We have a week to figure this out; we might as well survey the site
before we start experimenting with ways to penetrate the system.” There were grumbles from Shin and a
young doctor named Turner who was with her in her shuttle, but the rest of the
flight saw the sense of this and started spreading out and scanning away. There were many ambitious, young Lieutenants
scattered about the crews (Koon had promoted the last Ensign aboard the ship to
a junior Lieutenant a year ago) and they were eager to do something now that
they were here. That left Okuma and Darin with
nothing more to do than watch the pairs of shuttles fly off in nine different
directions skirting Cove’s limit of influence.
For the better part of the day Sam stayed busy compiling data and
forwarding it to the half a dozen scientists she brought along. Forte resolved to get some sleep and
take over the job when Sam had to nod off later on. Much to the amusement and annoyance of
everyone trying to talk to Okuma, Forte began snoring so loud he could be heard
over the com traffic. She had to resort
to a trick she had learned during the past week to silence him, but she held
off as long as she could out of embarrassment.
When she could stand it no longer, she shut off the com gear, walked
back to the cot Darin and she had shared all week, and nibbled his ear until he
rolled over on his other side. The
snores stopped at once, and Sam felt a pang of amusement she knew this much
about the man. When she came back to the
com gear, it was to the tune of snide, knowing snickers and giggles. She managed to get things moving
along again, but she guessed the secret about Darin and her was out. It would have been nice to have a bit longer
alone with him without the threat of judgment from others, but there was no
real harm done. She noted everyone
seemed friendlier than before. While
Starfleet formalities were observed all day, the tone everyone used with her
was far more relaxed and more conversational than before. She discovered she liked things this
way. In the past she had to pry
information out of people with a series of directed questions; however,
everybody volunteered information freely all day. By the time Darin awoke, the com channel
sounded like a round-table discussion about Cove, Pioneer, approach vectors, ionization, and how much time they had
to scour the system. “You’ve been busy,” Forte said as he
plopped down in the seat next to hers.
“Anything I should know about?” “We can move to just inside the
orbit of the second gas giant so long as we give that planet a wide berth,” Sam
explained. “The ionization drops off a
great deal past that.” “Is it uniform?” Forte asked. Solar systems tended to scatter their
material in elliptical hoops around the star.
This meant that the orbits of planets were littered with detritus that
had settled into line with the planet’s path around the star. Consequently, all the laws of physics
dependant upon matter to operate, such as ionization and static discharges,
were localized into bands around the star not unlike a cross section of an
onion. The Sol system was a fairly
mature one and much of the distinction between the orbits had been broken down
to a few stray asteroids and dust clouds.
In less settled systems the various orbits around the star could be so
choked with debris as to make practical navigation impossible without a
circuitous, tortured rout through a minefield of rocks, dust and explosive
gasses. “It seems so. Cabrillo is rhapsodizing about the
‘dispersion curve’ or something like that, so don’t broach the subject with him
unless you want an earful,” Sam warned.
The astronomer had been animated for the majority of the day. The more he saw of Cove the more he wanted to
see, and he was burning up the short-range frequencies between the shuttles
trying to observe as much as he could.
The one time Sam had casually asked a question about Cove-6, the boy had
babbled on for ninety minutes before Kree managed to shut him up with a brisk
slap to the back of his head. “Nice to see the kid in his
element,” Forte yawned. Sam gave him a sidelong glance. “You don’t know the half of it.” Darin shook off the lingering sleep
in his eyes and focused on the controls.
He tapped a few keys, studied the data presented for a minute or two,
then seemed to freeze as his professional eye spotted something in the
data. “Who’s on the polar approaches?”
he asked. “Shin and Taylor on the south
magnetic pole of the star and Greer and T’Alio on the northern approach,” Sam
replied after a moment’s consideration. “Why?” Darin did not answer right
away. Instead, he ran a series of test
approaches through the navigation computer.
After a long pause he asked, “Is Kree awake?” “She nodded off about two hours
ago,” Sam answered. “Did you see
something out there?” “Maybe,” Forte said slowly as if the
idea in his head might get out of his skull if he pounced on it too quickly, “I
guess it’s time for Sophie to test her mettle.”
He keyed the com channel and told Sophia some specific vectors to fly in
towards the star. “May I ask what all that was about?”
Sam asked him. “We’ll know in a few hours,
Commander,” Forte replied reverting to his role as a helmsman as he applied his
mind to the problem. Sam almost flinched at being called
“Commander” again, but she was too tired to care much by now. Wearily she stood from her seat and stretched
her cramped limbs. She was so
preoccupied with getting back to the cot and collapsing; that she bent down and
kissed Darin without thinking while the com was on before shuffling back to the
cot. In a few minutes, she was snoring
quietly leaving Darin to explain to he fellow officers what had just happened. Shin was the first to comment on the
display. “Making points with the boss,
Forte?” she asked in a playful challenge. “I think he already scored his
points, Sophie,” Lieutenant Howard Greer chuckled from his shuttle on the other
side of the system. “Scandalous!” Shin giggled. “Old Dragon Sam has a thing for our dashing,
young helmsmen.” “Cut it out, Sophie,” Forte chided
gently, “Samantha and I…” “So it’s ‘Samantha’ now!” Shin
giggled triumphantly. “My, my but you’ve
been a naughty boy!” Forte sighed. The secret was out. He had been able to keep it for only a week
much to his disgust, but it appeared the feeling around the crew was one of amusement. Hardly a demoralizing effect. Sam had been worried the others would see
their relationship in terms of the favoritism it could generate, but that
appeared not to be the case. That suited Darin Forte just fine
because he was not about to stop his relationship with Samantha. If she had cared to ask, he’d had his eye on
her for years. He had noticed the lovely
woman the day he had come aboard, but compared to what came later, that first
meeting was very dim and diffuse. He had
managed to dismiss her from his mind with the ease any young man can substitute
one pretty face for another. However,
the more he found out about Okuma, the more she appealed to him. He liked getting her to drop her guard
because every part of the process was alluring.
Her guard tantalized him with what it held beneath the veneer of
self-control and self-denial. The actual
dropping of her guard revealed her bawdy sense of humor. Moreover, the unguarded version of Samantha
Okuma was kind, loving, achingly tender woman any man would cherish like cool
water in a dry and dusty land. He
gradually developed a desire to enfold her in his arms and bury his face in her
straight, black hair, and he had indulged this impulse for the better part of
the last week. That aside, Forte was the senior
Lieutenant on the scene and being called a “naughty boy” undermined his
authority. Not that he was thin-skinned,
Darin could take a jibe gracefully, but there was work to be done. “Sophia, what did you find out your way?” “Trying to derail the painful stabs,
Darin?” Shin asked. “Just trying to get things done,
Lieutenant,” he temporized. “I’ve got a
new heading for you if you’re ready.” That got her moving. Shin occasionally made a passing comment
about Okuma, but Forte kept her busy for the next two hours weaving around
particles densities towards the solar South Pole. Greer at the North Pole conducted an
identical survey and Darin’s input kept all the other shuttles busy with their
flying for hours until he was satisfied he had something. “Sophia, start in towards the third
planet between the density bands. Try to
find a gap in the solar wind and ride it to the Van Allen belts. Howard, you do the same from the North Pole,
only I want you to head towards the second planet.” Time to
start scouting the dangerous territory, Forte thought. He glanced back at Samantha. She had told him about her admiration for the
great explorers during their time alone.
It seemed a shame she was not giving the orders to penetrate the system,
but the data in front of him supported the timing. In addition, the possibility to explore the
system from the perspective the planets surveyed was a temptation not to be
denied. They needed to find a safe orbit
for the ship when it arrived, and he was willing to cut any corner within
reason to find it. The clock was
ticking. When Koon arrived, Gordon had
assured everyone the warp core would be completely spent. Darin judged that Cove had to offer a safe
place to repair Pioneer or they would
all die; consequently, that place had to be found. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Who are you?” the Hirogen chieftain
growled at the image. Standing inside an action-capture
chamber Captain Semmes couldn’t suppress a smile. “I am aboard Pioneer. You don’t need to
know more than that,” she said. The Hirogen man glared back at
her. “Your manners need immediate
improvement, blood-sack,” he snarled. “Your gratitude needs an overhaul!”
Semmes countered sharply. “Tapping into our net is a violation
of our privacy, blood-sack, don’t expect me to thank you for the intrusion into
my sacred institutions,” the Chieftain said. Semmes managed not to giggle. Baiting these so-called “master hunters” was
childsplay. Their pride was so
fragile. The Chieftain was in over his
head already, and Semmes had barely introduced herself. “You’re asking the wrong questions, my
friend,” Semmes said coolly. “Who you are and what you want are
basic courtesies in my culture, blood-sack,” the Chieftain snapped. “This intrusion into my communication net is
unforgivable I might add.” “What I want should be obvious,
Chieftain Gnan,” Semmes purred, “I want to live.” Gnan started as if stung when she
mentioned his name. Even through his
alien features, the question was clear on his face. How
does this stranger know who I am? He
recovered quickly but his manner shifted from offended to suspicious. “You have a strange way of looking out for
your life,” he said. “Just by intruding
into our net, you have lessened the days you will run from us.” “On the contrary, I offer something
you would cherish, Gnan. Hirogen are not
opposed to an exchange are they?” Semmes asked. Gnan was fully put off his guard by
this turn of the conversation. While he
was accustomed to prey trying to bargain for their lives, they had never sought
out Hirogen ships to address their pleas.
The Hirogen net was too adept at triangulating signals to make this kind
of ploy any more than suicidal and everyone the Hirogen was familiar with
understood that. “An exchange?” he
asked. “I offer you the hunt of your life,”
Semmes announced. “I’ll even offer the
perfect bait.” “Bait is for the unimaginative!”
Gnan scoffed. It was a long standing
tradition in Hirogen lore that bait was tool of second-rate or desperate hunters. A true Hirogen stalked and tracked his prey
with a plethora of skills learned over a lifetime. The art, and worth, of a hunt came by beating
the prey at their own game. Luring prey
was the realm of Trappers and unbecoming of a Hunter to indulge in. Hunter’s stalked, tracked, and struck at
prey, and any comparison to a Trapper was stab at Hirogen ego. Gnan surveyed the faces of his crew and
discovered they agreed with equal measure to his view. Some even looked disgusted at the very notion
of bait. Semmes was a little taken aback at
the rebuke. She was not a seasoned
hunter to be sure, but to carelessly cast away her offer on such a trivial
detail struck her as guiless nonsense.
Also she hadn’t been snapped at or so much as contradicted since she had
taken command of the Diocletian and
the words stung with surprising force.
She hated being scoffed at, and she felt an unwelcome sense of
humiliation swell in her chest. She
didn’t allow her emotions to surface, however, and proceeded coolly with her
presentation. “The Pioneer has 815 trained combatants skilled in escape and evasion,
Chieftain. I would imagine such a prize
would be worth your whole-hearted interest.” Gnan regarded the image on his
viewer with undisguised skepticism. “Yet
here you stand offering away your position,” he pointed out. “Your skill at hiding seems fatally flawed.” How
blessed I am to have such idiots to match myself against, Angela Semmes
gloated inwardly. Gnan had just given
away control of the dialog and he lacked the wit to know it. “Very well, Gnan, where am I?” she teased. Gnan turned to his com officer and
his master tracker. They glanced at
their stations to confirm what they had told Gnan before he answered the
mysterious hale, and promptly did double takes.
When they didn’t look back at Gnan for a full minute, the Chieftain knew
his rude caller had every right to feel secure facing him in such a fearless
way. “Having fun with your sensors,
Gnan?” Semmes laughed. “All Hirogen will hunt you down for
this offense, blood-sack!” Gnan barked.
“Disrupting our net is…” “…Unforgivable?” Semmes interrupted
cheerfully. She allowed a sliver of
anger to stab into her words as she announced, “I don’t care, Gnan. I am in control of our dealings, Hirogen, and
if you expect me to respect your customs you shall be sadly disappointed. We will deal, and it will be on terms I
dictate! IS THAT CLEAR?” Gnan laughed. “Why should I deal with you?” “Because there are 815 hunts you
haven’t indulged in being offered to you,” Semmes said patiently. “If my research is correct that is four times
the number of hunts your entire crew has been on. What would you offer for such a prize?” Gnan was quite understandably
suspicious and mulled over the offer for a while before answering. “In exchange for your life,” he said at last,
“You will give us the crew of the ship that destroyed Lord Heartshock’s
vessel?” He sounded both eager and
skeptical. Semmes managed not to giggle with
delight. The Hirogen wore their feelings
on their sleeve, as the old saying went, and by doing so could be easily led
about by someone like herself who had the skill to exploit it. “I have a plan that will grant you a prize to
savor for months and years to come,” she said. “Go on,” Gnan said. “And what is this so-called ‘perfect bait’
you speak of?” Inside the motion-capture chamber
Semmes motioned at her lithe figure.
“Why me of course,” she said cheerfully. What Gnan and his people saw was the
image of Lieutenant David Cabrillo offering himself up to the most dangerous
power in the 3KPC arm. Looking at his
innocent face and listening to his young voice filled Gnan with a desire to
hack the boy’s spine from his back. A
detailed approximation of the human’s anatomy was already being studied for the
most striking trophy by everyone on the ship. Still the offer was tempting; irresistible, if
Gnan were honest with himself. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Semmes gave the Hirogen Chieftain
what little data they had on Pioneer’s
trail and signed off. The plan was for
the Hirogen to lure Koon into a confrontation he couldn’t win. If that meant he and his crew were scattered
about dozens of planets to be hunted down like elk, so much the better. The evidence would be so effectively obscured,
Semmes would never be linked to the tragedy.
Angela knew Koon from a scant few assignments in the past along with her
years pursuing him to the Core. She knew
how proud he was of his people and he would agree to anything to preserve just
a single life. Her reasoning was to let
the Hirogen capture one or two of his officers, lure him into a squadron of
Hirogen ships and force him to give up Pioneer
to save their lives. Janeway had done as
much a time or two with Voyager, and
Semmes felt Koon could be made to fall into line. The puppeteer project had certainly
been successful as far as she was concerned.
The use of David Cabrillo’s image stemmed from the wealth of information
Cabrillo had provided over the years. Of
everyone aboard Koon’s command, young Cabrillo was the most diligent
correspondent with those in the Federation.
Semmes knew this because her people had captured and responded to all
his letters for five years. The “Cabrillo
department” had grown to a staff of ten overworked officers in Semmes’ signals
section. How the boy managed to produce
such an extravagant volume of mail by himself was nothing short of
extraordinary, but it also gave Semmes and her people the clearest picture of
any mind they knew under Koon’s command.
Why the boy was so voluble was pretty clear: he was an outcast. He never spoke of a friend, never referred,
never deferred, to a colleague, spoke longingly of home at every opportunity,
and was beginning to gripe about being underappreciated. Had Cabrillo been a part of Semmes’ crew he
might have been pushed to suicide by now, but somehow Peyter Koon fostered an
environment a shy boy like David Cabrillo could manage in without undue
agony. It was only a short leap of logic
to attach bitter resentment to his character.
In this way, Semmes planned that if the Hirogen somehow blabbed how they
found Pioneer to Koon; the finger
pointing would be directed inward rather than her way. Perfect planning from all angles, she
thought. “Are we ready to reengage the
cloak?” Semmes asked as she stepped out of the motion-capture chamber. King nodded. He was convinced this project would be the
undoing of Diocletian, but his
Captain was not the sort to listen to that just now. Semmes was the sort of officer who preferred
to have what she called “positive control” of her command. What it meant in practical terms was that she
built a pyramid command structure with her at the top. Any action her crew took while on duty was
under her close, if not always direct, scrutiny. That left King with a huge administrative
workload, and very little input in the doings of the ship. That irritated his sensibilities greatly
since all the other great Executive Officers, and indeed Captains, in Starfleet
history were the product of a successful collaboration between Captain and
First Officer. His role as a sounding
board was nil and his input regarded with contempt by Semmes. She would listen to his suggestions but only
if it represented a department and only if he forwarded it in executive
session. Instead of playing an active
part in the running of the ship, Commander King found himself in the dual role
of Executive assistant and amateur councilor to all the ill will Semmes generated
against her. He would present
information in an orderly way and insulate Semmes from the crew and the crew
from Semmes insofar as he could manage.
He took immense pride in how high the moral of the crew was since Semmes
had almost no role in promoting it. He
was convinced the crew would mutiny in short order without him, but King was a
true believer in the mission and a believer in Captain Semmes. She was a horrible, not to say cruel, woman,
but she was a fine ship’s Captain. King was blinded by his faith in
Section-31 to the larger issues at hand.
The reason why he would have to wear this millstone that was Angela
Semmes about his neck instead of commanding the Diocletian himself never occurred to him to consider. From the conversations he eavesdropped in on
with Admiral Forrestal and Semmes, his Captain was firmly footed in reality
while the rest of Section-31 was preoccupied with the larger objectives of this
mission: namely controlling the Dominion.
Admiral Forrestal and Admiral Richelieu felt the Dominion War was bound
to be lost in the Alpha Quadrant and had to be won in the Gamma Quadrant and
were thereby sending virtually all their heavy assets to the Gamma Quadrant by
the circuitous rout of the Galactic Core thus opening up a front the Dominion
was unable to defend against. Semmes
vehemently argued they had no way of knowing this to be true, but took the
assignment anyway since she figured she, as a skeptic, would prosecute the
campaign with more methodical care than the distant Admirals back on
Earth. King had to agree with his
Captain. He knew her to be an effective,
downright vicious tactician, and a far-thinking strategist, so if she was a
total bitch on the side, that was the least of his worries and had to be borne to
maintain civility. The trouble was this Pioneer tangent their mission couldn’t
seem to solve. Koon and his ship had to
die. Section-31 had to remain forever
blameless. It had to happen here in
Hirogen territory since they were the only ones ever to face down the Borg
effectively. Semmes had argued many
times that direct action against Koon by her command would net two of the three
conditions of a successful mission requirements, but Forrestal was adamant all
three had to be fulfilled in order to take action. Appeals to And so they remained sidetracked out
in the armpit of the Galaxy hunting and scheming to destroy one lousy Nebula-class ship six years from her
nearest port of call that was apparently oblivious to the forces arrayed
against her. Or so King and Semmes
thought. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- M’rath couldn’t credit Koon’s
trust. From his point of view, he
deserved summary execution, but for some reason Captain Koon had airily
dismissed that idea out of hand. Not only
was he still breathing, but also he was out of his cell. To add to his consternation, Koon was staring
at him over his desk in his office! The Romulan was forced to sink to new levels
of astonishment when he learned what this man wanted from him. “Lieutenant, Commander Speer and I
agree something is wrong with this mission,” Koon explained. “This trip has been too hard, too long, and
too costly on all points to grant adequate credit for. Your role in the difficulties we’ve
experienced has been shown to be marginal if not nonexistent after a careful
study of your effects and duties. I want you to discover why we are having such
a hard time of things.” “Meaning what?” M’rath asked
suspiciously. “We want you to take over the
counterintelligence branch of security,” Speer said standing next to Koon. “Signals, research, anything you can think of
to safeguard this ship and this crew.” “We would like you to start going
over the communications, private and otherwise we’ve been sending and receiving
from Starfleet,” Koon explained. “We
discovered the three levels of encryption you used to communicate with your
Romulan controllers, and we are impressed enough with your work we feel you
would be ideal to spot this sort of thing elsewhere in the system.” “Tylan and I used five levels of
encryption,” M’rath confessed. Speer heaved a great sigh, and
Koon’s careworn face split into a grin.
“Told you he’d fess up,” Koon chuckled. “I’m not trained to expect that,
Captain,” Speer protested. Koon turned back to M’rath and admitted,
“You just passed a mild test in flying colors, Lieutenant. Congratulations.” “There were a total of seven layers
of encryption possible, but the last two Tylan and I never used since it was
obvious we were undetected,” M’rath explained.
“There is also an alternate set in the event of discovery.” “Like now?” Speer almost spat. Clearly, he maintained the healthy degree of
suspicion so lacking in his Captain.
M’rath did not blame him for an instant. “Yes, like now,” M’rath allowed
calmly. “But I’m willing to explain the
codes to you an any degree of detail you may wish if that will secure your
trust, Captain, Commander,” he said with a differential nod to each man in
turn. “Trust will be a major issue here,”
Speer warned. “I am fully aware of that, sir, but
I must admit I’m a little confused what you want me to look for in the message
traffic,” M’rath said. “We’re not sure either, Lieutenant,”
Koon said unhappily. “Anything is
possible at this stage, but why don’t you start with the current mission
objectives. The message from Admiral
Forrestal sending us to find Voyager
is the last one we received from Starfleet.
From an operational standpoint it’s a staggering coincidence this news
should arrive right as our primary mission was supposed to begin.” “That’s thin,” M’rath said
skeptically, “but it is more than a little odd I suppose. Is there anything I’m not allowed to see?” “Just work closely with Commander
Speer, and I’m more than comfortable with you snooping about, Lieutenant. One ground rule I must insist upon is the
need for complete discretion where personal matters are concerned. Most likely, you’re going to see some things
best left private. Do you understand?”
Koon said. M’rath had no way of knowing it, but
Koon already had a fair idea of the sort of things M’rath was about to
find. Okuma, reluctant gossip that she
was, was a very proficient gossip just the same, and had filled Koon in on all
sorts of goings on around the ship in no small detail. Koon found much of this talk as distasteful
as Okuma did, but he saw the utility in it just as his First Officer did. Foremost in his mind was a number of affairs
circulating about the ship including a fairly bitter one that had ended only
recently with the demise of Lieutenant Commander Garrett and the Lassen’s Cutoff. He had gone through this sort of thing before
as a First Officer, but prying into the private lives of others went against
his nature even if he rarely, if ever, acted upon the information he
found. People told those they
corresponded with things they did not blurt to the person next to them and
vise-versa, and the impression one got from seeing both sides of this equations
was how duplicitous good manners and private opinions made everybody. For his part, the Romulan imagined
all sorts of political and military secrets displayed for his casual
perusal. A few weeks ago and a lifetime
gone by M’rath would have jumped at the opportunity. Now he could only imagine anything he would
rather do to sate his conscience instead of this chore. “How worried are you, Captain?” he asked
hoping this was merely an exercise he could duck. Koon assumed a grave expression that
added years to his appearance. For the
first time, M’rath noticed the man’s hair was graying at the temples ever so
slightly. The toll of his responsibility
was clearly displayed in the man etched in well-acquainted, bitterly earned,
lines of care and stress across his face.
M’rath could almost see the man slump down in his chair and hear the
wheezing breath of elderly lungs from across the desk. “My people are dead and dying, Mr. M’rath,”
Koon said with quiet gravity. “My ship
is broken, and I’ve been forced to run and hide from an enemy that wants the
skulls of my crew for trophies. I’m
frantic with worry, and you should be as well.
We have no resources but each other, and I’m wondering why Starfleet
would allow this to happen to us.” “You ordered the Lassen’s Cutoff into the Great Barrier,
Captain. Starfleet ordered us to abandon
the Core,” M’rath said. “They also ordered us deeper into
territory barren of resources,” Koon countered.
“Even after discussing it with Okuma at length, it strikes me as too
capricious an order to make any sense especially since no mention was made of a
fresh mission to meet us once we started on our way home.” “That’s all?” M’rath asked
incredulously. “That’s enough to warrant looking
into the matter with a skilled eye,” Koon said. The Romulan rubbed his chin
thoughtfully. For once, all that
nonsense he had been forced to soak up about logic and learning appealed to
him. If nothing else, Vulcan habits were
fantastic tools to order one’s thoughts.
Add to that, the Romulan flair for conspiracy and Koon’s concerns
bloomed into several possible operational designs in short order. In fact, the possibilities assaulted M’rath’s
mind with a blow not unlike one he had exchanged with Heartshock no so long
ago. Most of the operations his mind
envisioned were totally dependant upon the flow of information, and he knew he
had to shut that flow down if he expected to protect Pioneer. “We need to
dismantle the com system,” M’rath announced after a long moment. Koon and Speer exchanged a look of
surprise. “Dismantle it?” Speer asked as
if he had not heard M’rath correctly. “Call it a system overhaul, but take
it apart and keep it apart until I’ve completed my investigation,” M’rath
demanded. “Why?” Speer asked. M’rath understood Speer’s reluctance
for once. Dismantling the com system was
not advisable under any circumstances since there was no telling when they
would have to talk to someone. Patiently
M’rath outlined his plans. “If I have to conduct an investigation and actively
search for spies and saboteurs, much of my workload will be accomplished by
this method.” “Meaning?” Speer demanded. “Agents are all about information,
Commander. Shut down the flow and the
routines that formerly protected them begin to expose themselves. Personally, I think only Tylan and I were
aboard, but if an operation within Starfleet were in place the com system is
our only link to the controllers. Shut
the controllers off, and any system they have in place will either expose
itself or shut down if our encounter with the flare hasn’t accomplished that already,”
M’rath said. “Approved,” Koon said. “I’ll tell Eddie to start right away. Adam, guard our remaining shuttles with some
discreet guards and put our com officer in one of them to keep tabs on our away
mission. We already have a com silence
order in effect so that officer shouldn’t be very busy. Mr. M’rath, I need you to get started.” “Aye, sir,” M’rath replied accepting
his first order as a full member of the crew.
As he walked from Koon’s office, he was struck with how eager he was to
start this assignment. He wondered why,
and even went so far as to ask Speer who was taking him to his new post in the
security locker. Speer seemed puzzled by the
question. “Your motivation is a complete
mystery to me, Romulan,” he growled unhappily. M’rath found himself wanting this
man as a friend. His stubborn nature and
devotion to his Captain was admirable in Romulan society, and M’rath could
imagine himself taking his ease over drinks swapping stories with Speer without
much effort. M’rath’s own father would
have taken an instant liking to the man for these reasons and dubbed him, “a
worthy enemy,” to use his turn of phrase.
No doubt, it was not going to be an overnight process to earn Speer’s
trust, but if M’rath did his new job right, they would have time to sort this
out. “I won’t let you down, Commander,”
he announced. “I’ll earn your trust.” Speer stopped and spun about to thrust his face in M’rath’s. His expression was one of bitter anger, and the cryogenic patch over his eye only made the look more sinister, like a sightless orb shoved hastily in the man’s head to rot his mind with pain and evil thoughts. “You’ve earned my trust, M’rath,” Speer snarled, “but don’t you dare break it again.” He leaned back and added with a little less venom, “I tend to take a dim view of that transgression.” To Be Continued |
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