Star Trek Hunter
Episode 17: Terms of Surrender
Scene 12: Yuri's Park
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17.12
Yuri's Park
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Yuri Gagarin Memorial Park, on board the U.S.S. Milky Way, was so spacious it felt like being outdoors in a small town. The park was ringed with storefronts. A bicycle path wound through a grove of trees – the tallest of these reaching up nearly 25' to the top of the dome. In addition to the trees, evergreen shrubbery and other temperate zone plants filled the park, along with well-tended grasses.

Day and night were synchronized with sunrise and sunset in Dubuque, Iowa, as was the weather to coincide with the weather at Star Fleet Headquarters. It was an unusually warm April in Dubuque, and light showers had passed through Yuri Gagarin Park in the middle of the Milky Way's saucer section, leaving a light mist on the large bronze statue of the first man launched into space.

Night was just falling in Dubuque and the lights in Yuri's park were dimming. More than 5,000 chairs had been set up facing a stage that had been erected in front of Yuri's statue. Viewscreens in the dome, covering the storefronts, and in the floor displayed space outside the U.S.S. Milky Way, including the five Praetorian Guard Warbirds, and, behind two of these, the bright ribbon and glowing center of the U.S.S. Milky Way's namesake.

Thousands of romulans, humans, vulcans and members of various other federation species were mingling and finding their way to the chairs along with a small number of klingons - official observers from the Klingon Empire. On the stage was a massive set of drums and gongs of various sizes and composition (many of them enormous) along with several stands containing hundreds of sticks, mallets and hammers. A monstrous gong was set up at the back of the audience.

The U.S.S. Hunter's giant first officer, Commander David Pepper, stepped in front of the stage and cleared his throat. There was an ambient breath as the communicator embedded in his chest connected with the comm system aboard not only the U.S.S. Milky Way, but all of the other vessels in the vicinity. This program was being broadcast and viewed throughout all of the ships gathered in the détente zone.

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"All of you must be exhausted," Pep said. "Two weeks of negotiations followed by cultural events every night celebrating different aspects of romulan and federation cultures. Speaking strictly for myself, and as a student of culture, I have learned more about romulan culture in the past two weeks than all my years before. I never realized what accomplished dancers romulans are, nor appreciated the subtly of your many dance forms. Watching romulans learning and mastering the Charleston in a single night and waltzing effortlessly with Star Fleet officers has to be one of the highlights of my existence."

"But tonight, on the eve of proposing the terms of a new relationship between our people, we have a special treat," Pep continued. "My young friend and shipmate, K'rok, has become an accomplished Thomborou drummer, an ancient klingon art form rarely witnessed on this side of the klingon border."

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Transporter Engineer K'rok, clad in traditional klingon armor, leapt onto the stage with a shout. Even in the bulky armor, he was an unusually small and slender man, built like a whip. His features were quite evidently a blend of klingon and human. His skin was almost black – a gift from his ancestors from southern India. A low growl began somewhere deep in the young man's throat, growing into a shout. The volume and power of the voice coming from his slight frame was astonishing.

Several of the romulan delegation had been quite offended that a klingon cultural event was not only part of the schedule, but was the final program on the eve of the announcement of the proposed terms. Their outrage was transformed first into fear, then wonder as K'rok lifted an enormous hammer with both hands and, counterbalancing with his entire body weight, spun in circles, building momentum before releasing the hammer with a shout to fly high over the audience and strike the gigantic gong behind them. The hammer dropped onto a collection of cymbals, adding their crashing to the deep resonance of the gong. This was the beginning of an extremely athletic routine that involved the young engineer leaping across the stage, striking various drums with sticks or mallets – hurling mallets at other drums and gongs and keeping up a thunderous, pounding rhythm…

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In a freezing andorian courtroom in Laikan, Vulcan Premiere Saoron was brought in, decked in chains and flanked by andorian guards, to hear formal charges recited by a white-robed andorian judge. His advocate, an andorian lawyer from House th'Ravonnette, formally and carefully contested each charge on legal grounds. The tiny, ancient vulcan, dwarfed by his guards, watched and listened alertly. Because he was bald, the subtle movements of his large, pointed ears could be seen as they twitched and turned slightly to catch different threads of conversation…

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K'rok bounced a dozen mallets off drums on various parts of the stage, catching each mallet as it returned to him and sending it toward a different drum in a pattern so long it was difficult to track – the rhythm changing with the distance between his hands and each drum and emphasized with shouts. Few in the audience were able to keep up with this enormously complex mallet-juggling rhythm, but a number of klingons, scattered throughout the audience could, and, along with Pep, added their shouts in unison with K'rok to emphasize the hypnotic, swirling rhythm…

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Near Vulcan, in the flight cabin and primary workroom of the cloaked Prodigal Sum, Pomm Irons took a deep breath as information suddenly flooded onto his screens – a massive upload from Pivin. His eyes widened. "Oh… oh no…"

"This is amazing," enthused Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba. "The names, commanders and crew complements of each Praetorian Guard Warbird, specifications for the Romulan Star Navy's new Battlegods – those ships are even bigger than the U.S.S. Milky Way! Regional Proconsuls, Senators, their aides, estimates of personal weaknesses for each by the Imperial Intelligence Control… she found the gold mine…" Dasare's excitement waned as she first felt, then saw the grief-stricken expressions on Pomm and Oarama Irons. "What is it?"

"That's a direct feed," said Pomm. "She's running out the clock..."

"She's been made…" Oarama caught her breath, tears starting in her eyes. Pomm took her hand in both of his as she said, "It's just a matter of time…"

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Hissing sounds had been growing as K'rok changed to a simple, driving rhythm, emphasized each time he landed at the largest drum at the back of the stage – he slammed this drum three times with giant mallets each time he landed near it. His leaps took him from one side of the stage to another, up one level to play tuned bells that could only be reached when he stood on the drums below them. He finally stopped at the giant back drum and repeated the simple three slam, pause, triple slam, pause…

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Alone in his office in Nairobi, Federation Councilmember Emory Ivonovic, wearing a pair of reading glasses, was surrounded by notebooks filled with actual paper, scrawling notes with an actual pen, using highlighters as he struggled through mountains of paperwork. His previously meticulously clean office was now awash in paper. The only space that wasn't covered with paper was an antique card catalogue with 16 drawers. Emory highlighted something in one of the notebooks, then made identical notes on three separate cards and filed them carefully in three different drawers of the antique, mahogany card catalogue.

Ivonovic leaned back in his executive chair, set his glasses aside, took a long drink of ice water, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, then sat back up, hunted around for his glasses, donned them and picked up and opened another notebook…

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It was only at this point in K'rok's performance that the audience realized the program included fireworks. Rockets whizzed above the heads of the audience, emitting bright balls of brilliant yellowish lights that somehow hovered in mid-air, well above the heads of the audience. K'rok's simple, pounding, thunderous rhythm grew more and more insistent as more and more drums and gongs on the stage resonated with his pounding on the big drum in back. He emphasized this rhythm with shouts that were taken up not only by Pep and the klingons, but by a growing number of audience members. Even vulcans and romulans were now adding their voices to the performance…

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Piven the Betrayer sat strapped to a chair, entirely immobilized. She could only moan in fear around the gag in her mouth. Her right arm was stretched out on a cold, steel table, strapped down in several places. A block held her fingers up so she could not clench her right hand. Bright lights burned down on her. She could barely see the masked figures hovering around her until one of them stepped into the light at her side and raised a massive butcher knife. The knife came down hard and fast and she screamed in terror and agony…

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BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The brilliant lights hovering above the audience in Yuri Gagarin Memorial Park on the U.S.S. Milky Way suddenly exploded – each with a deafening roar – startling most of the audience members out of their wits – but exploding in rhythm as K'rok slammed two enormous drums together – that same pounding 1, 2, 3, (silent 1, 2, 3,) over and over. More rockets launched more lights and they began exploding in groups – even louder – until there was a massive explosion and lights throughout the park suddenly flared brightly and went dark. Sudden, complete silence gripped the park. Only gradually, as their ears recovered from this assault and their eyes adjusted to the starlight all around them, the audience realized that every drum and every bell was still vibrating – at different frequencies, creating a shimmering sound that transcended their hearing range from top to bottom – keeping them hushed in awe as the sound gradually faded to true silence.

The eruption of applause and cheering in various forms was irrepressible. It was only at this point when the stage lights came back up that they could see how hard K'rok was breathing, his dark, nearly black skin coated with sweat.

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