Chapter 01 – Burn It Down
The Combat Information Center of the Intrepid Class Super Carrier USS Voyager (CVN 75) was bustling as nearly thirty men and women, a mix of enlisted Starfleet Naval crewmen, commissioned officers and Marines darted back and forth between computer consoles as they conducted the day watch operations aboard the ship.
Captain Janeway and the XO were not currently in command, instead leaving the second officer and tactical coordinator in command, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, a dark skinned Vulcan. He peered at the foremost starboard station, that of the Air Boss, who was busy coordinating the operations of the Carrier's Flight Nacelles.
A young female human Ensign approached Tuvok with a data pad, which the Commander accepted. "What is this, Ensign?"
"It's an encrypted transmission from Helo two-niner, sir." She looked at him in anticipation.
"Do you mean the Captain's shuttle?" He stared at her in mock surprise, even though he was concealing his emotions, as is the norm for his species. "I thought she was meant to maintain radio silence."
"Yes, Hera," Hera was the Captain's callsign, "Informed us not to contact her for any reason, so this is strange."
"Lieutenant Wegener is acting as her ECO, correct?"
"Yes, sir. He placed a random key encryption code on their communications equipment. No one should be able to access it until the program's time limit has expired. That shouldn't happen for at least another six hours."
"The only way they could have contacted us is through their emergency distress signal equipment or by modifying the BRADIS system for signal output. Do you have any idea what this transmission consists of?"
"No, sir. The encryption key is your biometric data and command codes. It's obviously meant for your eyes only."
"Thank you, Ensign. I will go to the War Room, lock the hatch, and access this data. Dismissed." They saluted each other and began heading off in opposite directions. Tuvok stepped out of a hatch on the Port aft side of the CIC, while the Ensign stayed in the CIC and approached the Helm, which consisted of six crewmen each controlling their own individual impulse rocket.
Tuvok strode off down the hall, heading forward about twenty meters before turning to his right and pulling open the hatch. Two Marines stood by the door, saluting and then nodding in acknowledgment of the Commander's desire for them to guard the door.
After taking several seconds to undergo a retinal scan using the camera on the pad and then entering his codes, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok had managed to open the data directories of the device. There was only one file, and it was a text document with attached images.
As soon as he looked at the contents of the file, he could tell that it was a set of orders. The text was a cryptic explanation of the included image files, which were a combination of photos, scan results and schematics. After he'd committed the entire thing to memory, he performed as instructed and downloaded the image files onto the ship's main computer via wireless up-link before deleting the document and corrupting the programming on the pad's memory, making it unusable.
Immediately, the Commander headed back to the CIC and straight for the Helm. "Attention all hands!"
Instantly, everyone had ceased their busy work to face Tuvok and listen to his orders. "I have received a communique from the Captain. She has given me specific orders which I am not to divulge to anyone else. My orders to you are to cease patrol operations, recall all fighters and prepare for FTL travel. That is all."
The FTL Officer looked up at his CO with apprehension. "What are the coordinates, sir?"
"Access the Navigation server network, and look for a directory entitled 'Orders from Hera, Helm'. Input those and when we are ready, await my orders."
"Aye, sir."
VOYAGER STARBOARD FLIGHT NACELLE, HANGAR DECK – STARDATE 2355.360, 1450 HOURS
The Chief of the Deck was standing beside one of the K17 Mk IV fighter shuttles, badly damaged from an encounter with Romulans during a skirmish over Sparta Prime, a human controlled planet where the elite MACO forces are trained. He tugged at the collar of his dark green repair jumpsuit before pulling off one of the half melted ablative armor plates to examine the underlying damage.
The internal space frame was terribly damaged, along with many components and lines for fuel and electronic signals. He looked behind him to see the gigantic room he was in, filled with his team repairing other damaged craft or simply socializing. He spotted a female mechanic walk by, her orange jumpsuit and face covered in grease, and walked up to stop her.
"Oh, hey Chief."
"Amanda, do we have a spare D7 regulator anywhere?"
"Yeah, don't you wish?"
"I thought we had ten thousand stored down in Cargo Bay 6."
"Yeah, eight months ago. We're all out, Chief. Remember, this is war."
"Yeah, thanks anyway. Back to work." Suddenly, a large hatch to the Chief's left side opened and an intact K17 rolled through, being directed by kinetic motor railing in the floor plating. The Chief found a stepladder and rolled it up beside the craft.
After a few seconds, the cockpit opened up and a male pilot in his flight suit mounted the ladder, removed his helmet, and stood beside the Chief, who saluted. "At ease. Hey, Chief Hanlon, do you know why these orders were given?"
"No, sir. I was hoping you would have some idea. I mean, being the CAG, they've got to let you in on what's going on. You're a senior officer."
"No, Chief, I have no idea. But I'm gonna go demand that Tuvok tells me what's going on."
"Okay, any problems with your plane?"
"Uh, yeah, the port impulse gimbals seem a little sluggish with its reaction times. Cornering's not as tight as it should be. Needs to turn on a dime, Chief, on a dime. Can't do strafing runs without tight cornering."
"I'll work on it right away. Will you let me know if you hear anything?"
"Sure thing, Chief. Have fun." He walked toward the Port side of the hangar bay to a set of stairs which led to a balcony area above, and out of sight of Hanlon.
Hanlon wiped his hands on a rag before grabbing a plasma torch and whispering under his breath, "Wilco, sir."
VOYAGER MAIN HULL, WAR ROOM – STARDATE 2355.360, 1512 HOURS
"Sir, if you'd just call a staff meeting and tell the senior officers what's going on, then we could keep it between ourselves. Are the orders really so secretive?" The CAG, who had just come from the pilot's locker room after leaving the hangar and changed into his officer's duty uniform, was now meeting with Tuvok one on one in the War Room.
"Lieutenant Nellis, I am simply following orders. I am not to discuss my orders with anyone." Tuvok was not facing him, but was instead using a large computer terminal on the forward bulkhead of the room.
"Look, all I want to know is where we're going and what we're going to do there. We were supposed to be patrolling the Argos Delta system, and now we've left one of Starfleet's primary Anti-proton refineries defenseless! It'll be three hours before the Intrepid falls back into rotation."
"There are other ships in the system."
"Yeah, a Flotilla of three Frigates led by one Cruiser. What are they supposed to do if the Romulans show up with even one D'Deridex class Warship?"
"That will be all, Lieutenant."
Nellis sighed and ran his hand through his hair before chuckling. "You don't care. You're just acting like a typical Vulcan. You don't give a damn that you're leading us into this blind!"
"You should trust the Captain."
"I trust the Captain, I just don't trust you green blooded hobgoblin bastards!"
"I will not have racial slurs used aboard this ship while I am in command, Lieutenant. That is enough! I'm placing you under arrest; you will stay in the brig until the Captain is back. She can then decide what to do with you." He turned back around briefly to enter a command in the computer, and soon after two Marines walked in. "Escort this man to the brig, please. Use shackles if necessary."
Both Marines saluted and escorted Lieutenant Nellis out of the room. Tuvok then entered another command at the console and after several minutes, a female officer with fighter pilot wings on her uniform entered the room and saluted. "Sir?"
"Call all pilots to the Ready Room. I have an announcement to make."
"Yes, sir. Can you tell me anything about this?"
"No, I cannot. Just carry out your orders. Dismissed."
She saluted once again before leaving the room.
Tuvok followed behind her, heading in the opposite direction at a certain junction and ending up in the CIC. He walked over to the Helm section of the room where the six Helmsmen manned their impulse engines, along with their share of the RCS thrusters. "Is our heading locked in?"
The highest ranking officer and coordinator of the other five Helmsmen, controlling the center bottom engine tapped some keys before looking at Tuvok. "Yes, sir."
Tuvok turned toward the Port side of the CIC. "FTL?"
"Green." The FLT Officer at the Port Forward bulkhead looked up at Tuvok and nodded as he recited the status of his systems.
"Navigation?"
"Go." This time, it was an officer at the dead center Starboard bulkhead station.
"Air Wing?"
"All fighters are locked down. We're cleared to go." The Air Boss was at a station along the Starboard Forward bulkhead.
"Maximum Warp to coordinates 12 along heading Pitch 108 mark Yaw 033, Roll at station keeping relative to the orbital plane of our guide star. Engage."
The FTL officer pulled off his dog tag necklace and fumbled for a key that was among his dog tags, inserting it into a keyhole at the station and turning it clockwise. There was a sudden jerking as the ship entered Subspace and then the Internal Inertial Dampeners kicked in, smoothing out the ride. "ETA, 3 hours, seventeen minutes."
Tuvok nodded and headed for the hatch. "I will be in my quarters, and am not to be interrupted until we have arrived at the coordinates."
Tuvok did not actually go to his quarters. Instead, he rushed down to deck 45, where the Voyager's medical facilities were located. He stopped by the admission desk and talked to the nurse. "I must see an expert in Vulcan neurology now."
She scanned some files on the computer and found a doctor. "Doctor Richmond is in his office. You can go see him there."
Tuvok nodded and headed off toward the Doctor's office, knocking on the metal hatch before entering. He heard a man yell "Enter!" and so he did.
"Hello, Doctor."
"Tuvok! Hello, have a seat on the exam bed and I'll go ahead and do triage." He pulled over a cart with a blood pressure cuff and a monitor. "Here, put this probe under your tongue so we can get your temperature."
Tuvok did so, and in a split second, the results were back, and Tuvok checked it himself. "This is normal for me."
The blood pressure cuff was simply a small band which wrapped around his arm and did not inflate, but instead held advanced biometric sensors, including pulse-ox and live CT imaging of the arteries and veins, which the doctor observed. "Well, no emboli in this arm or DVT. That's good. Now, your date of birth is 2301.258, correct?"
"Yes."
"Any history of heart diseases, pain, Vulcan Bacterial Meningoencephalitis, or anything else?"
"No."
"Ah." Doctor Richmond adjusted his lapel, upon which was the Naval Lieutenant Commander insignia. "Allergies?"
"Earth foods generally tend to upset me, but not enough to be significant."
"Alright, so what are your symptoms?"
"I have been feeling extreme pain running down my spine, having sweats, and minor auditory hallucinations. I have needed to meditate more often to keep my emotions under control, but it becomes more and more difficult."
"This could possibly be an infection. I'll have a nurse draw blood, take saliva samples, and get you prepped for an MSI. If there are any lesions anywhere, especially in your brain, they could potentially be causing this."
"Thank you, doctor. Technically, I have already filed paperwork, but I want this done under an assumed name. If the crew finds out, they may lose even more faith in me."
"No problem. Someone invented the delete button for a reason. Your blood pressure is also a little low, so I'm recommending you eat foods high in sodium and for the pain, I'm prescribing a coated version of a mild narcotic called Hydrocodone with a modifier to make it work with your blood chemistry. Take 2 pills every eight hours, but no more than 8 a day. Go get the scans and your blood drawn, then you can get back to work."
Several minutes later, Tuvok was in an imaging chamber, while Doctor Richmond looked over the images. He clicked the microphone button. "On the MRI, I can see a soft spot on your temporal lobe. It could be an abscess. I'll need your consent to get a biopsy, but we have to go into your white matter, so it can be a dangerous surgery."
"Just do what you have to, doctor."
"Well, we should also wait for the results of your blood tests."
"Thank you, doctor. How long should I wait?"
"We will contact you within the next two hours."
Tuvok's emotional control began to break down, causing a feeling of apprehension to creep into the fringes of his thoughts.
*Author's notes:
So, I wanted to kind of do a story showing what the Voyager was doing leading up its assignment to go after the Normandy and provide assistance in the Delta Quadrant. This is the first chapter of the story, and the pacing wasn't that great, I know. But it's just the beginning. I'll try to make improvements.