|
"The Secret of the Amethyst"
By Allycat
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc.
are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and
plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work.
No copyright infringement is intended.
Genre: Action/Adventure
Description: Tom discovers a hidden plot in a seemingly innocent
holonovel that puts his family in jeopardy.
Author's Notes: This story also contains spoilers from a whole
bunch of episodes: Pathfinder, Author Author, Ent: These are the Voyages,
TNG: Pegasus, Ent: Terra Prime - to name just a few. Codes: P/T, Trip/T'Pol,
Imzadi. Voy/TNG/Ent crossover. Takes place just a few months after "Nemesis"
and about a year after "Endgame" Feedback can be sent to coffeecat77 (at)
gmail.com. Beta readers: JadziaKathryn and Black&Blue
June 5, 2158 "They came in the middle of the night and took her as I slept," Shran frothed. He slammed the data PADD on the desk, hard; causing the General to point his antennae forward obstinately.
"I blame you," Shran pulsed with fury; all the years serving under General Thallek had finally come to this.
"You've become lax and insensate, Shran," Thallek castigated. "You'd jump into bed with any Vulcan who'd raise an eyebrow at you."
Shran shook with unkempt rage. He was tired and his head thrummed with all the unpleasant memories of the past fifteen hours. "What does this have to do with Vulcans?" His face contorted and his hands balled into fists.
"Everything and nothing."
At the tone of the General's voice, realization dawned.
"You took her." Shran was braced, ready to crawl over the General's desk to rip his antennae off.
So he did.
With one swift movement he tore one out by the root, causing Thallek to shriek at the stark horror - the dishonor - of being laid low by such a small amount of flesh. He writhed in agony; his eyes rolled back into their sockets.
Shran found himself kneeling on the desk, holding the disgusting, bloodied appendage in his fist. He opened his palm, watching repulsed as it twitched from being wrenched from its life source.
He spat on it; noting out of the corner of his eye that Thallek had lost consciousness. It didn't matter. Shran pitched the dead antennae at his old friend and jumped down from where he perched.
With arrant determination, he stormed out of Thallek's office to seek out all that was lost; for the love of the future; for his child.
It happened over a week ago; Shran recoiled at the memory, and I'm more bitter now than I was then.
"Commander," Lieutenant Shak turned from his console, bringing Shran back to the present. "We've picked up her trail."
Shran's mouth diminished into a thin line. "Adjust speed to overtake her. I want her now."
At his order, several of his bridge crew leered in his direction. It was suicide.
"Adjusting speed, Commander," Lieutenant Twil answered. "We'll overtake them in ten minutes."
"Then prepare for battle," Shran told them.
It was Shak who had the audacity to point out the obvious: "Even at our best we're no match for that kind of power."
Shran's glare burned Shak to his core. "It's worth it, Lieutenant. If it cripples them - if it stops them from what they're about to do - it's worth it."
"Commander," Silla snapped around from the tactical station, her urgent demeanor drawing in the attention of everyone. "The vessel has adjusted her course to intercept, full speed. Detecting a shockwave, bearing one five seven mark two five."
Shran stood as the screen filled with a light purple aura of destructive terror on a direct course.
"Raise shields!" Even as he bellowed, the ship lurched violently, throwing the crew haphazardly about the confined bridge. When they rode out the worst of it, Shran gained his footing and barked, "Damage Report!"
Silla scurried back to her console and read the display in front of her, "Aft shields are at fifty percent, hull breach in section four deck two. Three injured; one dead."
"Want to tell me what in Snella's name that was?"
"A subspace distortion, Commander." "From the ship?" "Affirmative."
Shran took in the information, eyeing the paragon shown on the screen while making a concentrated effort to anticipate her next move. "Twil, take us within four thousand kilometers of her. Silla, prepare the torpedo."
"Understood." With Silla, there was no effort to hide her concern as she left the bridge for the torpedo bay. They had one shot; one torpedo that had the capacity to render their enemy useless.
It was Shak who took her place. He was a good shot; an equal with Silla. After an ostensibly endless two minutes of watching the ship move dangerously close on screen, Shak finally reported, "Torpedo is loaded and locked."
"On my mark..." Shran held up his pointer finger to back up his verbal command; Shak had a tendency to be trigger happy. "Steady..."
As Shran's ship moved within range of the other vessel, all could see that she was powering up to do something; no one was sure what, and no console had the percipience to tell them; but she appeared to be in a very bad mood.
"Fire," was the last thing Shran remembered saying before the universe seemed to implode....
Continue to Chapter 1
|
