A Brief Note: These characters are based upon the ones I play as in-game. The following story begins some time between seasons six and seven of Star Trek Online. I started writing this in 2013, so it was current then, but I've been writing a bit of the story every now and then ever since. I'll be uploading this one piece at a time over the next little while, but I'd ask your forgiveness if it isn't *perfectly* in keeping with every detail from the game, the novels, the films, and so forth. Any errors in overall gameplay or story elements are solely for storytelling purposes, and I accept full responsibility for using them as I have. Furthermore, if I run afoul of any of the established story, as it appears in novels, films or episodes of Star Trek, I accept full responsibility for that, too. I tried to research all the details as best I could, but I doubtless slipped up on a few things. Thanks in advance for reading, hope you enjoy. :)
The interior of Research Station Theta-112 was a ghastly sight to the sergeant's eyes. Bulkheads burst from weapons fire, circuitry dangling like innards or sinews of a creature whose corridors were his job to secure. Just a few hours before, he'd been on duty, walking these halls and pretending to keep it safe. It seemed like years ago now. The KDF strike teams had hit hard, in force, with a series of their Gorn members' bulky frames visible just down the corridor, moving around in their fortified position near the computer core. They had been there, and he had been here, behind a hastily-arranged barricade of upturned tables and station components, for at least four or five hours.
Behind his position on the right of the barricade, three of his marines, and the lone ranking ensign left on this deck, were having their wounds tended by their medic, a pretty Trill female, while he and his corporal watched the line. The assault they had recently attempted had been repulsed, and he desperately hoped to be reinforced in time to finish the job right. Fighting their way into a heavily-shielded computer core, with its three-deck layout and its lack of easy exits, would result in a lot of casualties and no way to med-evac them with a quick beam-out. It would be next to impossible to stop the KDF force in time to keep them from achieving whatever objective they had in mind without an army of Starfleet marines at his back... and maybe not even then.
It was a surprise for them to strike here, this KDF force, at this particular station, located as it was in orbit around Argelius V, a gas giant orbiting a star closer to the former borders of the Romulan Star Empire than the Klingon Empire's. They must have been after something - what, it wasn't the sergeant's job to know. But the experience of this war had taught him that no place in the Federation was necessarily safe. Between Borg transwarp conduits, infiltrators shifting their shapes, and the shadowy presence of antagonists like the Tal Shiar and the Breen, this was just another firing line dividing those safe within the Federation's borders from those beyond who wanted to destroy it. But it was his to defend.
The familiar sound of a Starfleet transporter beam resonated in the corridor just behind the barricade, in the direction where the second platoon of his company had secured the researchers. The space station wasn't terribly big, and through one of the bulkhead windows down that corridor he could discern the orange curvature of Argelius V just beyond. To his surprise, the sergeant only saw five blue signatures coming into view, materializing to form a series of small humanoid figures clad in grey-and-red battle armour. Despite himself, he sighed audibly. These were clearly not the reinforcements he'd been expecting.
"Jenkins," he said to his corporal, "cover me while I see what's up." Jenkins nodded as she moved towards his position, and he quickly pushed off the line towards the corridor.
"Are you in charge here?" one of the figures beaming in down the corridor asked.
"That's right." The sergeant toggled the safety on his phaser rifle. "You our reinforcements?"
"Something like that." The speaker stepped forward, clearly visible. A slightly-built figure in silhouette, whom he quickly realized by her antennae was an Andorian, unholstered a rifle of a kind he'd never seen before. Her face and jaw were angular, but feminine, her stance anything but, clearly a combat veteran like himself. Her hair was not a typical Andorian shade, but appeared to be tinted slightly. He watched as she took a quick step beyond him, leaning her head towards the barricade. Behind her came a pair of human females, one of whom had some sort of glowing device tucked under her hair on one side of her face. The fourth was a Saurian, his form a dark purple, his eyes reflecting the light beyond. The last in the formation, his rifle already drawn, his eyes already taking in every angle of the surroundings, gave the sergeant a quick once-over as threat assessment, and then dissolved into shadows, having activated a stealth module.
The human officer, an engineer, stopped and smiled for a moment. She kept her blonde hair in a pair of tight pigtails, and carried a phaser compression pistol at her hip. "We're here from the Bonaventure. We received a distress signal and -"
"Aurora," the lead officer, the Andorian, called out to the blonde lieutenant. "That can wait. Right now I want you to get to the other side of this barricade and put down a quantum mortar, then a shield-gen just a few paces back from it." She turned to the other officer, whom the sergeant could now clearly see had once been assimilated into the Borg. "Same thing on this side if you would please."
"Immediately," she responded, conjuring some sort of Borg weapon that extended from the length of her right arm. She took up this prosthetic device with her other hand to control it, and nodded, ready to move out.
The Andorian officer stepped to the side of the other two. "Zed, I want you to be right behind me, ready with the exothermic, on my mark. And Shep, you know what to do."
The male tactical officer's bearded face spread into a broad grin as he re-appeared at her elbow. "How you want to handle 'em, boss?"
She unlocked the safety setting, and her rifle began to glow and make a high-pitched whirring noise. "Let's see how they handle us."
"Yes, sir." Once again, he vanished, his smile seeming to fade last, like a cat in a childhood tale the sergeant remembered.
The Andorian officer looked up towards the sergeant. "You're welcome to come along, but I don't want you and your people in our way."
"Wait," said the sergeant, raising a hand. "This is my position. What're you planning? I mean, who are you people, anyway?"
She turned away, kitting herself out for combat. The blonde engineer looked at him quickly, then her eyes fixated upon her intended position. "I told you. We're from the Bonaventure. We're here to re-take this position."
Astounded, the sergeant looked from the engineer back to her commanding officer, whose personal shield snapped online after a moment. "Just sit tight, watch our line of extraction... and don't let them get behind us." She glanced towards her engineer.
"Minefields and covering fire, I know, I know," she recited.
"Okay. Set?" The Andorian looked from one officer to the next, all nodding assent. "Then let's roll."
The two engineers fanned out, one across the way, the other into her designated position near the corridor exit. The Andorian and the officer she had called Shep moved towards, then over, the barricade, followed closely behind by the Saurian she'd called Zed. For his part, the sergeant fell in on the line, skeptical. Corporal Jenkins watched them go, almost rising for a moment to try and restrain them, before she looked to her sergeant, who simply shook his head. As the three officers moved forwards, the wounded marines and their medic leaned forwards over the barricade, watching as Shep once again faded from view, and the other two did their best to move into an ambush position against the wall.
From the edge of one of the blasted bulkheads, the Andorian officer's personal shield flickered for a moment, having brushed up against something sharp in the darkness. This seemed to gain the attention of a Nausicaan in the KDF position, who half-rose to become visible. As one, two bursts of quantum mortar fire leapt forth, blue fireballs rising down the corridor before plunging to burst and knock the Nausicaan back down again. Two, then four, then several figures then became visible, all clad in armour and brandishing varying types of heavy disruptor weapons. A few of them carried bat'leths and swords, but most had an energy weapon to hand. The Andorian officer raised a hand, signaling the Saurian, who initiated a sequence of hand motions over his tricorder. In a moment, the area that had once been densely packed with KDF troopers was aflame. The explosion caused the troopers in the pocket of fire to dash madly about, which led them into a kill zone between the Andorian officer's antiproton beams and the indistinct line of fire from the stealthy Shep. She moved forwards, now, no longer in ambush. The Saurian, for his part, had drawn some sort of compression pistol, firing a wide blue beam that seemed to be causing the KDF troopers' shields to overload. This had all happened in a matter of moments, and before long the Andorian officer stood atop the position, waving them towards her.
"Now you see," said the liberated Borg engineer. "Now you understand."
"Well, that's not very nice, Octavia," offered the other, blonde engineer. "They don't seem to know who we are."
"Who you are?" asked Corporal Jenkins. "I don't even know what just happened."
"Me either," said the sergeant, "but let's move out."
They crossed quickly to what had been the KDF position just outside the computer core entry area. The whole area was permeated with an awful stench, like he had always imagined a Klingon mess hall to smell. All around were KDF officers, Gorn, Klingon, Nausicaan, Orion, all dead. The Trill medic waved a tricorder quickly over the area, and her face took on a grim expression. Whoever this Andorian and her officers were, they weren't taking prisoners, at least not today.
They moved without use of cover down the entryway, past several more dead troopers, over and around a series of Federation-issue mines on the floor, into the computer core, the very heart of the station's structure. Three decks in depth, it required the use of lifts or ladders in order to traverse to the top deck, where the access point was located. Already the sergeant and his marines could hear fire from the deck above as they came into the room. The two engineers quickly fanned out, one placing a phaser turret at the very edge of the curve around the room, while the other traversed a ladder rapidly. The sergeant directed his marines into a defensive perimeter around the doorway, remembering well their orders, to hold the line of retreat.
As the second engineer moved towards the upper levels, the sergeant looked to Jenkins. "You hold here. I'm moving to support."
"Are you crazy?" Jenkins asked frantically. "She said-"
"I know." He stepped forward. "Hold here."
Up the ladder, down another rounded corridor, past another phaser turret, another shield generator, another group of dead KDF warriors. There were at least two Gorn who looked like they had taken the phaser turret dead-on, one of them to the head. Had they simply charged at the turret in desperation? One lay on his back, twisted in place, and had he not been dead he surely must have had the look of hysterical laughing. A grim thought, which the sergeant now quickly pushed aside as he moved on towards the next ladder. He felt himself being compelled onwards by a rush of instinct, a sense of attachment, an intimate understanding between himself and this Andorian officer. He felt a kinship, a warrior sibling, present in this computer core like he hadn't felt in what felt like centuries. It pressed him to go faster, to climb harder, and he nearly missed the rung of the ladder in his haste. Then he stood at the top, took a few paces further down, and saw her.
The Andorian was huddled behind the edge of a bulkhead, the computer access just beyond across a narrow causeway. One of her engineers, the former Borg, was down, being tended to by the Saurian. The other had her pistol drawn and crouched at her side. The fifth was nowhere to be seen. Beyond the causeway stood two massive Gorn firing big disruptors, on either side of a petite green-skinned woman in a brass bikini. "We're taking what we came for," he heard her declare. "And there's nothing you can do about it, Starfleet." Then the rifle fire began again.
"Don't do it, Shep," he heard the Andorian yell. "Get back here." He looked up, but could see nothing. Somehow, whether using instincts or the reading from her antennae, she could sense her tactical officer's position. But where? He peered from around the corner to try to see where he would appear. He then heard a blast, definitely an arcwave blast, and watched as one of the Gorn fell forwards, down into the space between the causeway and the bulkhead. He saw the Gorn's reflective eyes and in them a look of complete astonishment. The Orion female turned, drawing a curved dagger, and plunged it into the space from where the blast had originated. There was a shout, a clattering noise. The remaining Gorn, along with a Klingon technician who had been out of sight this entire time, turned to help the Orion in her grappling with Shep, and the Andorian and her remaining engineer sprang into action. Opening fire, they caught the Gorn in the flank, causing him to tumble onto the Orion female. Then a burst came forth from the pulsewave again, and fell silent.
In the confusion, the sergeant ran past the Saurian, around the Andorian's former hiding place, and across the causeway. When the melee finally cleared, the Gorn's unconscious form had rolled towards the edge of the computer access area, while the Klingon technician's body, along with one other, lay out around the associated work station.
"I told him not to do that," the Andorian said as she rose to her feet and slung her rifle over her shoulder. "Damn it, Shep."
On the ground, his face relaxed and at peace, his dead body clearly visible, lay Shep. He bore the mark of not one, but three savage lacerations made with a nanopulse-edged dagger, which the sergeant could see still rested within a fourth wound. At the Andorian's feet, her hands bound behind her back by the human engineer named Aurora, rested the Orion woman on her knees.
"This isn't over," said the Orion.
"Oh, I think you'll find it is," the Andorian replied.
"Should we take her back to the ship, Captain?" asked Aurora.
"Get ready to move out."
A sudden rush of impulse caused the sergeant's head to swim. He felt himself raising his rifle, in spite of himself. He looked down at the Orion woman, who was staring intently, longingly, into his eyes. He felt a rage, a rising need to act, to sacrifice himself, to do something... but how? This was clearly the legendary Orion seduction at work, which men were powerless to resist, or so the stories claimed. It was causing him to feel compelled to free her from her bondage and then together, they would reign the universe as one.
He felt something cold touch his neck, then heard the sound of a hypospray against him. "There you go." It was the Saurian medic, Zed, pressing a button and releasing medicine into his system. "Pheromone blocker. Should take effect shortly."
The rising tide of panic and impulse receded as rapidly as it had begun, and he felt himself to be in control once again. The Orion snarled at him as he did, and wrestled against her restraints.
"Aurora, you and Octavia walk her out. Let's see if we can't get her a blanket over her or something."
"Aye, ma'am," Aurora responded, shoving the Orion across the causeway.
Zed stepped forward, concerned. "What about Shep?"
The Andorian knelt beside her fallen comrade. "I'll have to get in touch with his wife. We'll have to leave him here for now, until the whole station is secure. Let me get in touch with the Bonaventure, see how we're doing."
The sergeant heard his commbadge beep. "Go ahead."
"-Jenkins here, sir. We're being asked to re-deploy to the south side of the station, looks like it's just stragglers left."
"I'll be right down, and I'll be bringing our friends with us." He tapped his badge to deactivated it, and asked Zed, "So how should I introduce all of you to my platoon?"
Zed looked at the sergeant and smiled. "We're from the Bonaventure. I'm Lieutenant Zolnaen Didaggo. You can call me Zed. Everyone does."
"Nice to meet you, Zed," the sergeant replied with a wave of his hand. "But who is she?"
"Her? She's my commanding officer. Captain Twaiheak Sh'abbas of the Bonaventure."
"Call me Tw'eak," the Andorian said with a twinkle in her eye as she turned. "Everyone else does." She knelt back down again to Shep's side. "Give me a hand with him, please?"
Captain's log, stardate 99104.6 - We were able to overcome the KDF strike team before they succeeded in stealing the classified research information they were seeking. While the damage to the station is considerable, they'll be able to effect repairs and resume their work. The impact of this mission upon my crew, however, will be significant. The death of Lieutenant Commander Shepard Clark, our tactical officer and ground warfare specialist, will be felt keenly across the ship. We are en route to Starbase 39 Sierra to deliver the station's crew, its researchers, and our prisoner.
In her ready room, Tw'eak took a moment after recording her log to lean back and think. There would be a memorial service for Shep Clark once they reached starbase, where his remains would be transferred to civilian control for the flight home. She found herself uncertain of what she should say. She and Shep had served together for almost a year, during which time they had never really been close. In fact, now that she thought about it, she wasn't even sure what she would say at his funeral. It was customary for her to address the assembly, and she had already begun the process of lionizing his performance in the raid with a commendation in her written report, but it wasn't what she felt. He got himself killed, she thought to herself. The United Federation of Planets regrets to inform you that your husband, LCdr Clark of the Bonaventure, died a pointless, avoidable, horrid death which allowed him neither the honour of glory nor sacrifice.
She stood and walked to the replicator to order herself a bowl of plomeek soup, a Vulcan dish which she had taken a liking to during her earlier, rebellious years, some of which she spent on that desert world learning the paths of logic and infinite diversity in infinite combinations. Shep had always been the more Andorian of the two of them on ground missions, one might say, led by a sense of what humans called gut instinct. This was never Tw'eak's way - she preferred to get a sense of the territory, analyze the threats, and then respond accordingly, with flanking tactics and overwhelming force.
The replicator whirred before her, and the bowl of soup materialized before her eyes, steaming hot. "No, no, computer," she said, "lower ambient heat of soup by thirty percent." She had forgotten to indicate her preferred temperature. There was more humming from the replicator, and the soup appeared to have cooled substantially. She carried the bowl and saucer to her desk, retrieved the spoon, and began to eat. After a few bites, there was a chime at the door. "Come in."
The door opened to admit the form of her assistant chief engineer, Lieutenant Aurora Doucette. "Ma'am, I'm sorry. Is this a bad time?" While Aurora typically seemed anxious and eager to please, her body language and the flushed look of her face indicated a greater anxiety than usual.
Tw'eak stood up. "Not at all. Please."
"Oh, I don't want to disturb you if you're eating."
"I may not get another chance. Would you like something?" Tw'eak took a quick look towards the replicator.
Aurora hesitantly stepped into the ready room, and the door whooshed shut behind her. "I'm not really hungry. I wanted to ask about today." She raised her hands. "I mean, I know you'd probably rather I went through Counselor T'uni, and I already have an appointment with her for tomorrow-"
"Relax, Aurora. What's on your mind?" Tw'eak took her seat. "Please." She gestured to another across the desk and slid the plomeek soup to one side.
Aurora moved towards the chair and sat down. "Well, it's just... I wanted to know..." She squirmed in her chair, as though the soft foam and carpeted surface were crawling with Klingon gagh.
"Commander Clark," Tw'eak inferred.
"Yes, ma'am. I just... you were so, I don't know... matter-of-fact about it."
Tw'eak smiled, putting her head back slightly. "A good commander always keeps her emotions in check, of course."
"No, I know... I guess that's why I'll never be a commander. At least not a good one, like you..." Once again, Aurora raised her hands. "I mean, all my commanders- oh, God..."
"No need to worry, this can be off the record if you'd like."
"Please? I'm really sorry. I just... that Orion woman. She really unsettled me. Bringing her back to the beam-out point, I could see the effect she was trying to have on everyone, and even with the shot Doc Zed gave me, I still felt... I don't know, scared of her?" Aurora looked down at the palms of her hands, facing up in her lap. "I just felt really ashamed, that's all."
"That's what she's counting on," Tw'eak offered. "She tries to use your impulses, your feelings, against you. It's her only strength. But they all do that, even the Borg." Tw'eak put her hand to her chin. "You've been on this ship for, what, six months now?"
"Five and a half, ma'am." Aurora's eyes lifted, looking at Tw'eak in a desperate way. "But it's been an honour, ma'am, and I-"
Tw'eak waved a hand in Aurora's direction. "Off the record. You don't have to keep doing that."
"Sorry, ma'am."
"I appreciate it, don't get me wrong, and I appreciate you doing your best today. But we all do the best we can in the face of our fears. It's what we have to do sometimes, especially in those moments when the situation seems darkest. You know how you feel, but you also know how you'd feel if you let anyone down who was standing with you in line." Aurora nodded. "That's what counts. That's what motivated Commander Clark. And it's what motivates me. And, I think, you too."
"Oh, absolutely. I always tell my sister, when I write to her, about how I am so afraid of letting anyone down. Way more than anything else, I just want to do a good job."
"And that's what makes a good officer." Tw'eak smiled at her nervous subordinate. She wondered for a moment, and asked, "How many sisters do you have?"
"Just one." Aurora smiled, anxiously. "Bianca, she's three years younger than I am, she's an astrometrics officer. She was just assigned to the Cavell last month. She's so excited to get to space. I hope she'll be okay."
"If she's anything like her sister, she'll be fine."
"Thank you, ma'am." Aurora stood, and Tw'eak did as well, following her towards the door. "Oh, I'm sorry- I meant to ask, do you have any sisters?"
"Two, well, one that's alive anyway."
"I'm so sorry." Aurora clutched her hands to her chest, accidentally tapping her commbadge in the process. "Oh, God, I'm sorry."
It occasionally concerned Tw'eak that someone as socially awkward as Aurora could make such a brilliant engineer, but she'd seen solid proof that the young lieutenant was better with machinery and equipment, even under enemy fire, than she was in contact with other people. "I came from a big family back on Andoria. There were nine of us, two zhen, two thaan, three chan, and me, the oldest, and the only shen." She closed her eyes and briefly remembered the faces of her brothers and sisters, and her mothers and fathers. "We were a big family, but while I was growin up that was sort of the way of things on Andoria. Anyway, I've lost three of my brothers, two of them in the war, one in a transporter accident. And one of my sisters, Sassil. There's just Thran and Ch'las, and my sister Dashii. And me, of course."
"Wow. Andorian families sound so complicated."
"I've been told that, yes. Two moms, two dads, and lots of little blue babies. We're complicated, almost uniquely so, but our children reap the benefits."
"Do you have any of your own, ma'am?"
"No, I..." She looked away for a moment. "I have a, well..." How to explain Sh'landas Syndrome without making this even more awkward? "I can't have any children. Medical reasons."
"I understand. I'm sorry."
The door chimed, and Aurora startled at the sound of it, so completely was she focused on Tw'eak and their conversation. As for Tw'eak, she was more unsettled by Aurora's rapt attention than she was by the door. "Come in, please."
Through the door stepped the sergeant, now in a standard Starfleet uniform. "I hope I'm not interrupting," he said quickly upon spotting Aurora.
"Not at all," Aurora replied. "I was just leaving." She nodded quickly to Tw'eak, then headed out.
Tw'eak stood, solemn, before the sergeant. He took a quick look down at his hands before he spoke. "I just wanted to say thanks. We'll be reassigned once we reach the starbase. We wouldn't have made it back without your help - at least, not in the shape we're in."
"And how are you holding up?"
"Well, now that's the thing..." He shifted from one side to another. "May I speak candidly, ma'am?"
"Of course." Tw'eak tried to hide a look of concern.
"You've heard the stories by now, I'd imagine, of 'redshirt' marines and other such personnel in the ranks."
Tw'eak smiled, broadly. "On many an occasion. I was one, remember."
"Were you now?"
"My first posting was as a 'redshirt' on the Venture - the old Galaxy-class Venture, not the current one. It was what provoked me to spec out as a space weapons specialist instead."
It was the sergeant's turn to smile. "I can well understand. A lot of my people... I mean, I know I'm not supposed to say anything, and I wouldn't want to mention any names - not officially, at least - but they were happy to get the posting at the research station, since it meant some time away from the action. And then it was 'redshirt' time again. They're wondering if any place in the Federation is safe anymore."
Tw'eak took a deep breath. It was a sentiment she'd been feeling for years. The threats always seemed to outnumber the strength Starfleet had to stop it. At least they weren't co-ordinating their efforts, seemingly working as much against each other as against the Federation. But the old soldier before didn't seem likely to be one for a wordy response, or an angry rebuke. For an instant, he reminded her a great deal of Shepard Clark.
"You tell your people... the Federation is only safe because of people like them. As long as there's someone who can hold a position, or shield a perimeter, or even just shoulder a rifle and stand in harm's way, then we'll always have a fighting chance." She smirked and added, "would we really want the scientists and engineers to have all the fun anyway?"
"No way in hell, ma'am," the sergeant replied, reassured. "Thank you, ma'am."
"Don't mention it." Tw'eak tilted her head slightly, and asked, "I never did catch your name anyway."
"Sergeant-Major Leo de Salaberry, ma'am. Second platoon, Delta company, 1296th Regiment."
The sergeant seemed to be standing at parade rest, so Tw'eak extended her hand. "Honour to have fought with you, Leo. "
Caught completely off-guard, the sergeant returned the handshake where he had been expecting to salute. While her grip was unexpectedly gentle, he could sense a strength which she wasn't using. He did his best to reciprocate, and relaxed considerably. "Likewise, ma'am." After a brief clench, he offered a salute, almost as much out of reflex as respect. Tw'eak returned the gesture, and he turned to make his way back to his platoon.
"You know, Sergeant, one of my fathers served in the two-oh-five. "
"Yes, ma'am , I know. I served with him for many years as one of his NCOs. He was a damn fine marine – and if I may be so bold, there's an old Earth saying… the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." He nodded and took his leave.
After he departed, Tw'eak made her way back to her desk, and her now-cold plomeek soup, which she carried to the replicator to warm up. Wondering for a moment about apples and trees, she considered the things she'd said, to the sergeant and to her engineer, and wondered if there was anything to them which would sound appropriate at the memorial service. And for a moment she started to wonder whether she believed herself what she'd shared with those under her command.