=/\= Part III =/\=
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USS Ffestinog, En Route to Starbase 1039
Deck 3, Ready Room
2000 Hours
Every time Captain Beddoes looked at it, he couldn't help the thrill of wonder that ran down his back. "Play it again," he ordered. "Maybe this time the computer will figure out what it is."
"You are wasting your time, Captain," said Sarevok with just a hint of exasperation in his carefully controlled voice. "I think it is eminently obvious that this phenomenon has never before been recorded by the Federation. As far as the computer is concerned it is simply a...sensor anomaly."
Beddoes refrained from asking if the entire bridge crew had been subjected to hallucinogens. Instead, he simply stared at the twisting vortex of energy, captured forever by nothing more than a shipboard camera.
"So why did it appear when the captain hit the phase cloak?" the ship's science officer asked. "I didn't detect the thing when we first entered the area."
Sarevok thought for a moment. "I have a hypothesis," he said slowly. "Let me remind you that this is nothing more than a conjecture of mine, based on the scant facts we do have on the Kabrigati object. With access to classified Starfleet databases, I would probably be able to confirm it, but, as of now, it is just a--"
"Why don't you wake me up when you're ready to tell us?" asked the captain, putting just the right amount of sarcasm into his voice. The Vulcan glared at him but launched into his explanation.
"I assume all of you are familiar with the work of Albert Einstein. If we work under the restrictions of Einsteinian physics, warp drive would be impossible. As a ship the size of the Ffestinog approaches speed c, its mass increases proportionally. It would take an infinite amount of power to accelerate the ship."
"And yet we're moving at a few hundred times the speed of light."
"Exactly, Captain. That is because we are not using Einsteinian physics. Instead, we're applying Zefram Cochrane's theory of transdimensional travel." Sarevok gestured to the window, where faint warp lines were visible as the Ffestinog sped through space. "Warp engines blow a hole in normal spacetime and, in that millionth of a second, this ship and everything inside it is shifted to a different dimension. Where Einstein's laws simply don't apply."
"All of this is all well and good," said Beddoes, "but you still haven't explained why the phase cloak triggered the energy vortex. So far, everything you're telling us can be found in a history textbook."
"It was an analogy, Captain," replied Sarevok with a pained expression on his face. "I am merely using a rather well-known example to illustrate a point. May I continue?"
Beddoes tried to refrain from smacking the Vulcan in the face. "Go on, go on," he said impatiently.
"This ship's phase cloak operates under different conditions, of course, but the principle is the same. When we operate the cloak, we shift in and out of normal space or warp space, rendering us effectively invisible to sensors and the capabilities of the eye. The cloaking field is a miniature transdimensional device of sorts. And every time we use it, we disrupt the space-time continuum."
The concept was beginning to sink in now. "So when Captain Beddoes hit the phase cloak button--"
"--he triggered a rip in the cosmos--"
"--that created the energy vortex--"
"--because Nature abhors a vacuum--"
"Exactly," said Sarevok, looking as pleased as a Vulcan could be at the logical reasoning of his protégés.
Captain Beddoes didn't fail to see the implications of the "hypothesis." "That thing could have killed us, and if a careless captain engages his cloak, he'll get his ship ripped to pieces. Which could lead to serious consequences for Starfleet."
A glance at Sarevok served to confirm his worst expectations.
"Oh shit," he said to nobody in particular.
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USS Hyperion-C, En Route to System Vulcan
Holodeck
2022 Hours
In Kieran's opinion, the holodeck was one of the most degenerate pieces of equipment ever installed on board a starship precisely because the possibilities it offered were limitless. Aided by the wonders of modern holographic technology, any person with a simple knowledge of how the machine worked could program it do amazing things. They could go back in time and play poker with Franklin Delano Roosevelt; transport themselves to the bridge of the Enterprise and test their wits with an angry Klingon commander; even visit the interior of Zefram Cochrane's revolutionary Phoenix, the first warp-capable vessel built by humans. For the lonely man or woman, it also provided other--services--which weren't as pure in nature.
Even a person with remarkable self-control could only resist the temptation so long, which was why the admiral felt just a little twinge of guilt as he slid a data disk into the computer terminal at the far end of the holodeck.
"Initiate program Forester-One," he said and watched in fascination as the drab gray walls shimmered and disappeared entirely.
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USS Iron Throne
Ship's Library
Ninety-One Years Ago
In the age of faster-than-light travel, books had increasingly been relegated to a minor role in a person's normal life. This was quite understandable, actually. With the development of the warp engine can the development of advanced computer systems to control it, and those advanced computer systems could also be used to store, file, and display all of the famous works of literature written by all of the famous authors hailing from all of the planets from all of the galaxy. Books were now anachronisms, symbols of a civilization generations past which had not even had the intelligence to recognize its own self-destructiveness.
Kieran had been in a real, honest-to-god bookstore only once. He was a promising candidate for Command at the Academy back then, and was strolling along the streets of San Francisco thinking what it would be like to have an entire starship at his beck and call. The cadet was so engrossed in his dreams that he didn't notice where he was going until he tripped over a discarded pail of fish and landed right in front of an old wooden door.
Back then he had treated the proprietor's desperate attempt to interest him in a classic Hemingway or Steinbeck as the dying gasp of a dying age. "They're outdated," he had said as he stepped out of the door looking extremely chagrined. "Why buy them when you can find them on the LCARS?" And with that, he had stormed outside, leaving behind that doddering old fool still holding a copy of "The Grapes of Wrath" in his outstretched hand.
It was only until after he graduated that he realized how foolish he had been. There was more to a book than the clean, computerized versions available for sale. Each one had a vivid history to its credit, something which simply couldn't be captured by the most powerful LCARS database. Immediately after the ceremony he ran to that very same sidewalk only to see the tiny shop shuttered up with a "For Sale" sign on the door.
That was why Kieran made it a point to keep his collection on board the Iron Throne, ranging from "The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire" to "Meet Mr. Pointy: A Guide to Vulcans." It wasn't as large as he would have liked--he hadn't managed to get any Hemingways or Steinbecks yet--but it was still respectable.
My God, Kieran thought to himself in awe as the holodeck transformed into an exact duplicate of his old library. Hesitantly, he reached for a book and opened it. "It was the best of times..." he read slowly, his eyes stinging. "It was the worst of times..."
"If I am not overstepping my bounds, sir, may I point out that that is an illogical statement?" came a voice from behind him.
The book clattered to the floor. "S'Tasik," Kieran breathed.
"That would be my name," the Vulcan said, puzzled. "I had no idea you committed it to memory. Was it something in my personnel file, perhaps, or--"
"No--no, that's not it." Kieran stared at him for a moment and had to remind himself that this thing in front of him was actually a clever computer-generated hologram. But everything about it was perfect. Even the characteristic upswept eyebrow. Everything! "Why don't we--why don't we sit down and talk for a moment?" He gestured to a chair and dashed a tear from his eyes angrily when he thought the cadet wasn't looking.
"Talk, Commodore?"
Commodore? Of course--this was 2290, after all, and he still hadn't received his promotion yet. That would come later. "Yes. Talk. Tell me about yourself."
"I am approximately twenty years old in your years, Commodore, although that date cannot be ascertained. I was born somewhere unknown and my mother and father died in my infancy. I was adopted by Captain Jones and taken back to Earth for education and upbringing. I began my studies at the Vulcan Scientific Institute in 228--"
"I know all that," Kieran said impatiently. "It's in your personnel file."
"But sir," S'Tasik protested, "what do you want me to talk about?"
"Yourself." Kieran stared earnestly into his eyes. "What you like. What you don't like. Favorite foods, what you do in your spare time. Do you have a pet? Dog? Cat? Goldfish? Anything."
"I am afraid, Commodore, that I do not have any of those. I have no likes or dislikes, no spare time, and no elegant food. I think keeping animals under lock and key is simply barbaric."
Kieran chuckled, all his inhibitions forgotten. He shifted in his comfortable armchair and put "A Tale of Two Cities" on a coffee table next to it, and for the next few hours, planned to stay right where he was.
To talk with his long-lost friend.
---------------------------------------------
Starbase 1039 Alliance
Administration Deck
2030 Hours
While Admiral Kieran Forester slipped away into the past, Captain Jason Beddoes was jolted back to reality as a loud expletive came from within the admiral's office. Damn, the captain thought to himself again as he cringed inwardly. Bad idea putting the Vulcan in there. He clung to the admittedly futile hope that Sarevok would learn the language of diplomacy before he got the whole ship thrown out of the base.
Another loud expletive came from within the admiral's office, followed by the sound of a cup shattering on the floor. After a second fragile item crashed against something not so fragile, yet another loud expletive came from within the admiral's office and less than a millisecond later the doors slammed behind a startled Sarevok, who had been shoved and locked outside with a final parting "Fuck off, you son of a bitch-bastard!"
Jason Beddoes stared first at the Vulcan and then at the door and then back at the Vulcan. "Successful mission, hmm?" he asked sarcastically as the science officer examined the coffee stains on his uniform.
"I must admit," said Sarevok, trying to groom himself and retain his dignity at the same time, "that the good admiral is much more volatile than I expected. All I asked was for specialized access to classified informational files."
"Was that all?"
"Well, there was the relatively minor matter of him threatening to kill me if I 'insulted' a picture on his desk one more time. I was simply pointing out that the manner with which it was framed was completely antithetical to the principles of Vulcan architecture--"
Captain Beddoes coughed loudly. He was friendly acquaintances with Admiral Sanzei and happened to know that the "picture" was in fact the last remaining portrait of Sanzei's mother, who had been killed in a pirate raid in his infancy. Damn, he thought again, Bad idea putting the Vulcan in there. "So what happened?"
"Admiral Sanzei impounded the tape and has ordered a team of technicians to erase the files from our computer banks. What we have stumbled upon seems to be something of importance to Starfleet, otherwise none of this would have occurred."
"Well, phase cloak is an important strategic advantage--it's the one of the only reasons we're winning our war against the Imps. If they can't detect us, they can't shoot at us."
"Precisely. Thus I cannot understand the actions of Admiral Sanzei, an otherwise quite rational person. If phase cloak really does interfere with the iota waves emitted by the Kabrigati phenomena, then it would be more logical to inform all TacFleet captains of the dangers of using it indiscriminately."
"Maybe there's more to it than we thought, then," mused Beddoes. "Do you still have that tape?"
"I told you, it was impounded by Admiral Sanzei--"
"And they're going to erase the files--" Captain Beddoes stopped in his tracks. "Back to the ship! Hurry!"
USS Ffestinog, Docking Bay
2035 Hours
They were just in time. While Beddoes stalled for time, even going as far as to buy the two techs a few rounds at the ship's bar, Sarevok hurried to copy the recording from the ship's computer onto a microdisk. Finally, the Vulcan stepped away from the console, the disk secreted in his ranking pips, and walked into the ship's bar to give the "all clear."
"Good day, Captain," he said stiffly. "I trust that you are doing well?" Beddoes noticed that the Vulcan's hands were twitching at his sides. Obviously he wasn't at all used to lying.
"Of course, of course." He gestured to a can of beer. "Want some?"
"I do not partake in fermented beverages, Captain." Sarevok's hands were now scratching uncomfortably at his neck, as the Vulcan tried (and failed) to stop himself from fingering the golden button where the microdisk was hidden. "Mineral water will be fine."
As Beddoes moved to pour him a cup of water, the curious eyes of the two technicians proved too much for him. With one last spasmodic jerk, the pips flew off of Sarevok's uniform and clattered to the floor.
"Groovy," one of the techs said. "Check it out, Ted, it's like there's a hidden chip inside one of those, dude!"
"Really, Bill?" The other tech glanced at them appraisingly. "You're right, bro! Isn't that just radical? Check it out--"
As it became clear that Sarevok was too stunned by the use of old twentieth-century vocabulary to do anything, Beddoes had to take action. Quickly he snatched up all three of the pips and stuffed them into his pocket.
Bill and Ted had suddenly become all business. "We, like, need to see that, sir," one of them said, his long black hair drooping over his eyes. "It's like, you know, our job, if you know what I mean."
Shit, Beddoes thought. "Sorry, boys, but I can't let you have them," he said hurriedly.
"And, like, why not?"
Time to think fast, hot stuff--and suddenly, an idea struck him. "It's a private tape," said the captain. "It's a very private tape."
Bill and Ted looked utterly unimpressed. "So what? What's it got, then?"
"It's got holograms," said the captain conspiratorially. "You know--of things."
"Things? Like, what things?"
"Like things Orion slave girls do, you know? Those kind of things. And you'll understand why I don't want it exposed to the admiral that our good science officer here watches those kinds of--tapes. Don't you, boys?" Beddoes was warming to his subject.
Realization dawned in the eyes of the two techs. "Ah!" said one of them, winking. "Like, we understand totally," said the other.
"So if you don't mind, why don't you go do what you have to do with our computer system now? I'll buy you another round afterwards...?"
Bill and Ted grinned foolishly as they left the room. "Peace love dope, man," said one of them, waving two fingers at Sarevok.
As the doors shut behind them, Captain Beddoes collapsed against the wall. "Don't do that again, you stupid-ass piece of--"
For a moment, Sarevok looked like he would have gladly punched the captain in the stomach. Just for a moment.
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USS Hyperion-C, En Route to System Vulcan
Sickbay
0300 Hours
Every so often the notoriously temperamental equipment in Sickbay would go offline and Caitlin Denning would go crazy trying to fix it. How come every piece of shit in here has to die in the morning? Saboteurs, I tell you, saboteurs-- "You! What the fuck are you doing with those tricorders! Put those right where I left them!"
A terrified orderly looked at her, dropped the tricorder, and scurried off as far away as he could get from the CMO. He'd heard tell that she shouldn't be crossed in the morning, and, providing he got out of here alive, this would be something that would only substantiate that claim. "Damn young 'uns," Caitlin muttered. "Kick them off of the ship and let them freeze their asses off in vacuum."
This time it was one of the neural stimulators that was on the fritz. Somehow its memory had been wiped clean and now the computer knew just as much about stimulating nerves as Franz Kafka knew about sex. Which was something that wouldn't be beneficial to her patients (or victims, depending on perspective).
She pulled out a healthy stim and tried to see if she could transfer the memory cartridges to the dead one without damaging both. That was too much to ask at three in the morning, and after slamming both of the now broken ones down on her desk, she buried her head in her arms to see if she could catch some sleep. The stims would have to wait until morning.
Just as she dozed off, however, she was woken up by the loud ringing of her bell. If there was anything worse than catching the CMO while she was tired, it was being the person to wake her up. She grabbed a hypospray loaded with a paralytic enzyme and went for the door.
She dropped her hypospray when she saw who it was.
Boris Kurchatov was standing in front of her, his already thin frame weak and emaciated. His striking blue eyes were bloodshot and had lost their usual sparkle, and he had to lean on the doorframe just to stand up.
"Christ," she whispered. "What happened to you?"
"Rad leak...in the engine room..." He coughed and spittle flecked with blood flew out of his mouth. "Minor...I thought...minor...apparently not--" Kurchatov tipped over and fell.
"Dammit, you should have come to me sooner--" She gently lifted him up and helped him over to an empty cot. "Stay there and let's see what's happening."
What she saw on her tricorder screen made her want to scream.
All the chief engineer heard was a sharp intake of breath. "What...ees...et?" he asked weakly, lapsing into Russian.
"You'll be fine," she said back. "You'll be fine. You'll be fine..." She closed his eyes soothingly and injected 5ccs of a powerful tranquilizer into his arm. Kurchatov stiffened and then relaxed.
"Fuck," Caitlin muttered. "Major cell damage, loss of bone mass, organs losing structural integrity--orderly!"
The terrified orderly ran up to her and saluted smartly.
"Get the admiral. NOW."
"Ma'am, I don't know where the admiral is right now--"
"Well, I really don't care, now, do I? Find Kieran. And tell him to get down here if he has any shred of humanity left in him."
"But--"
"Listen," she said dangerously, and the orderly trembled in his shoes. "If you don't find Kieran in the next--" She glanced at her watch. "--five minutes, I'll cut out your entrails and shove them up your ass. And I'm serious, too."
I don't doubt it, thought the orderly. He saluted smartly again and dashed out of Sickbay.
Holodeck
0304 Hours
Kieran had never moved from that spot and in fact was so engrossed in his conversation with a hologram that he almost didn't hear the voice screaming at him from outside the door. "Computer, end program," he said reluctantly and watched as S'Tasik dissolved into nothingness. With one last look back at the empty gray room, he stepped outside and confronted the orderly.
"What do you want?" he said coldly.
"CMO--Sickbay--wants you--"
Dammit, I told her not to interrupt me unless it was an emergency-- "I'll be there immediately."
Sickbay
0310 Hours
"What is it?" Kieran asked without preamble as he ran to Caitlin Denning, who was sitting in a chair, her head buried in her arms. "What's happening?"
The CMO raised her eyes to meet the admiral. "He's dying," she said shortly, her voice choked with tears. "There's nothing I can do about it."
Kieran was stricken speechless. "Why?" he asked at last.
"Radiation leak." Caitlin's small frame was heaving as she tried to stay calm. "Apparently he went in there to patch it up and--and--" That was as far as she could get.
The admiral sank heavily into his seat. All of his years had now hit him with full force. He had been granted a reprieve at the planet of the Ba'ku, but that was only a reprieve. He should have known that he couldn't avoid death. He should have known that it had the power to hurt him, even if he lived for a hundred more years. Finally: "So now what?"
"Life has to go on, doesn't it?" Caitlin whispered hoarsely. "We bury him and then get back to living our normal lives."
Silence descended oppressively over the two of them as they stared at Boris' life signs on the computer terminal. His heartbeat slowly slowed its beating and then...
Stopped.
Caitlin collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. "Why?" she screamed, her face streaked with tears that she could not go on hiding. "Why can't we have stayed just the way we were? Why did this have to happen to us? What did we ever do--"
Admiral Kieran Forester had stopped listening long before that. He was sitting hunched over in the chair, a splash of red against the clean white walls of Sickbay, with his eyes closed and his head bowed.
And in a corner of his mind, a little voice began to speak.
"To mourn is illogical, Commodore..."
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USS Ffestinog, En Route to Starbase 1039
Deck 3, Ready Room
2000 Hours
Every time Captain Beddoes looked at it, he couldn't help the thrill of wonder that ran down his back. "Play it again," he ordered. "Maybe this time the computer will figure out what it is."
"You are wasting your time, Captain," said Sarevok with just a hint of exasperation in his carefully controlled voice. "I think it is eminently obvious that this phenomenon has never before been recorded by the Federation. As far as the computer is concerned it is simply a...sensor anomaly."
Beddoes refrained from asking if the entire bridge crew had been subjected to hallucinogens. Instead, he simply stared at the twisting vortex of energy, captured forever by nothing more than a shipboard camera.
"So why did it appear when the captain hit the phase cloak?" the ship's science officer asked. "I didn't detect the thing when we first entered the area."
Sarevok thought for a moment. "I have a hypothesis," he said slowly. "Let me remind you that this is nothing more than a conjecture of mine, based on the scant facts we do have on the Kabrigati object. With access to classified Starfleet databases, I would probably be able to confirm it, but, as of now, it is just a--"
"Why don't you wake me up when you're ready to tell us?" asked the captain, putting just the right amount of sarcasm into his voice. The Vulcan glared at him but launched into his explanation.
"I assume all of you are familiar with the work of Albert Einstein. If we work under the restrictions of Einsteinian physics, warp drive would be impossible. As a ship the size of the Ffestinog approaches speed c, its mass increases proportionally. It would take an infinite amount of power to accelerate the ship."
"And yet we're moving at a few hundred times the speed of light."
"Exactly, Captain. That is because we are not using Einsteinian physics. Instead, we're applying Zefram Cochrane's theory of transdimensional travel." Sarevok gestured to the window, where faint warp lines were visible as the Ffestinog sped through space. "Warp engines blow a hole in normal spacetime and, in that millionth of a second, this ship and everything inside it is shifted to a different dimension. Where Einstein's laws simply don't apply."
"All of this is all well and good," said Beddoes, "but you still haven't explained why the phase cloak triggered the energy vortex. So far, everything you're telling us can be found in a history textbook."
"It was an analogy, Captain," replied Sarevok with a pained expression on his face. "I am merely using a rather well-known example to illustrate a point. May I continue?"
Beddoes tried to refrain from smacking the Vulcan in the face. "Go on, go on," he said impatiently.
"This ship's phase cloak operates under different conditions, of course, but the principle is the same. When we operate the cloak, we shift in and out of normal space or warp space, rendering us effectively invisible to sensors and the capabilities of the eye. The cloaking field is a miniature transdimensional device of sorts. And every time we use it, we disrupt the space-time continuum."
The concept was beginning to sink in now. "So when Captain Beddoes hit the phase cloak button--"
"--he triggered a rip in the cosmos--"
"--that created the energy vortex--"
"--because Nature abhors a vacuum--"
"Exactly," said Sarevok, looking as pleased as a Vulcan could be at the logical reasoning of his protégés.
Captain Beddoes didn't fail to see the implications of the "hypothesis." "That thing could have killed us, and if a careless captain engages his cloak, he'll get his ship ripped to pieces. Which could lead to serious consequences for Starfleet."
A glance at Sarevok served to confirm his worst expectations.
"Oh shit," he said to nobody in particular.
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USS Hyperion-C, En Route to System Vulcan
Holodeck
2022 Hours
In Kieran's opinion, the holodeck was one of the most degenerate pieces of equipment ever installed on board a starship precisely because the possibilities it offered were limitless. Aided by the wonders of modern holographic technology, any person with a simple knowledge of how the machine worked could program it do amazing things. They could go back in time and play poker with Franklin Delano Roosevelt; transport themselves to the bridge of the Enterprise and test their wits with an angry Klingon commander; even visit the interior of Zefram Cochrane's revolutionary Phoenix, the first warp-capable vessel built by humans. For the lonely man or woman, it also provided other--services--which weren't as pure in nature.
Even a person with remarkable self-control could only resist the temptation so long, which was why the admiral felt just a little twinge of guilt as he slid a data disk into the computer terminal at the far end of the holodeck.
"Initiate program Forester-One," he said and watched in fascination as the drab gray walls shimmered and disappeared entirely.
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USS Iron Throne
Ship's Library
Ninety-One Years Ago
In the age of faster-than-light travel, books had increasingly been relegated to a minor role in a person's normal life. This was quite understandable, actually. With the development of the warp engine can the development of advanced computer systems to control it, and those advanced computer systems could also be used to store, file, and display all of the famous works of literature written by all of the famous authors hailing from all of the planets from all of the galaxy. Books were now anachronisms, symbols of a civilization generations past which had not even had the intelligence to recognize its own self-destructiveness.
Kieran had been in a real, honest-to-god bookstore only once. He was a promising candidate for Command at the Academy back then, and was strolling along the streets of San Francisco thinking what it would be like to have an entire starship at his beck and call. The cadet was so engrossed in his dreams that he didn't notice where he was going until he tripped over a discarded pail of fish and landed right in front of an old wooden door.
Back then he had treated the proprietor's desperate attempt to interest him in a classic Hemingway or Steinbeck as the dying gasp of a dying age. "They're outdated," he had said as he stepped out of the door looking extremely chagrined. "Why buy them when you can find them on the LCARS?" And with that, he had stormed outside, leaving behind that doddering old fool still holding a copy of "The Grapes of Wrath" in his outstretched hand.
It was only until after he graduated that he realized how foolish he had been. There was more to a book than the clean, computerized versions available for sale. Each one had a vivid history to its credit, something which simply couldn't be captured by the most powerful LCARS database. Immediately after the ceremony he ran to that very same sidewalk only to see the tiny shop shuttered up with a "For Sale" sign on the door.
That was why Kieran made it a point to keep his collection on board the Iron Throne, ranging from "The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire" to "Meet Mr. Pointy: A Guide to Vulcans." It wasn't as large as he would have liked--he hadn't managed to get any Hemingways or Steinbecks yet--but it was still respectable.
My God, Kieran thought to himself in awe as the holodeck transformed into an exact duplicate of his old library. Hesitantly, he reached for a book and opened it. "It was the best of times..." he read slowly, his eyes stinging. "It was the worst of times..."
"If I am not overstepping my bounds, sir, may I point out that that is an illogical statement?" came a voice from behind him.
The book clattered to the floor. "S'Tasik," Kieran breathed.
"That would be my name," the Vulcan said, puzzled. "I had no idea you committed it to memory. Was it something in my personnel file, perhaps, or--"
"No--no, that's not it." Kieran stared at him for a moment and had to remind himself that this thing in front of him was actually a clever computer-generated hologram. But everything about it was perfect. Even the characteristic upswept eyebrow. Everything! "Why don't we--why don't we sit down and talk for a moment?" He gestured to a chair and dashed a tear from his eyes angrily when he thought the cadet wasn't looking.
"Talk, Commodore?"
Commodore? Of course--this was 2290, after all, and he still hadn't received his promotion yet. That would come later. "Yes. Talk. Tell me about yourself."
"I am approximately twenty years old in your years, Commodore, although that date cannot be ascertained. I was born somewhere unknown and my mother and father died in my infancy. I was adopted by Captain Jones and taken back to Earth for education and upbringing. I began my studies at the Vulcan Scientific Institute in 228--"
"I know all that," Kieran said impatiently. "It's in your personnel file."
"But sir," S'Tasik protested, "what do you want me to talk about?"
"Yourself." Kieran stared earnestly into his eyes. "What you like. What you don't like. Favorite foods, what you do in your spare time. Do you have a pet? Dog? Cat? Goldfish? Anything."
"I am afraid, Commodore, that I do not have any of those. I have no likes or dislikes, no spare time, and no elegant food. I think keeping animals under lock and key is simply barbaric."
Kieran chuckled, all his inhibitions forgotten. He shifted in his comfortable armchair and put "A Tale of Two Cities" on a coffee table next to it, and for the next few hours, planned to stay right where he was.
To talk with his long-lost friend.
---------------------------------------------
Starbase 1039 Alliance
Administration Deck
2030 Hours
While Admiral Kieran Forester slipped away into the past, Captain Jason Beddoes was jolted back to reality as a loud expletive came from within the admiral's office. Damn, the captain thought to himself again as he cringed inwardly. Bad idea putting the Vulcan in there. He clung to the admittedly futile hope that Sarevok would learn the language of diplomacy before he got the whole ship thrown out of the base.
Another loud expletive came from within the admiral's office, followed by the sound of a cup shattering on the floor. After a second fragile item crashed against something not so fragile, yet another loud expletive came from within the admiral's office and less than a millisecond later the doors slammed behind a startled Sarevok, who had been shoved and locked outside with a final parting "Fuck off, you son of a bitch-bastard!"
Jason Beddoes stared first at the Vulcan and then at the door and then back at the Vulcan. "Successful mission, hmm?" he asked sarcastically as the science officer examined the coffee stains on his uniform.
"I must admit," said Sarevok, trying to groom himself and retain his dignity at the same time, "that the good admiral is much more volatile than I expected. All I asked was for specialized access to classified informational files."
"Was that all?"
"Well, there was the relatively minor matter of him threatening to kill me if I 'insulted' a picture on his desk one more time. I was simply pointing out that the manner with which it was framed was completely antithetical to the principles of Vulcan architecture--"
Captain Beddoes coughed loudly. He was friendly acquaintances with Admiral Sanzei and happened to know that the "picture" was in fact the last remaining portrait of Sanzei's mother, who had been killed in a pirate raid in his infancy. Damn, he thought again, Bad idea putting the Vulcan in there. "So what happened?"
"Admiral Sanzei impounded the tape and has ordered a team of technicians to erase the files from our computer banks. What we have stumbled upon seems to be something of importance to Starfleet, otherwise none of this would have occurred."
"Well, phase cloak is an important strategic advantage--it's the one of the only reasons we're winning our war against the Imps. If they can't detect us, they can't shoot at us."
"Precisely. Thus I cannot understand the actions of Admiral Sanzei, an otherwise quite rational person. If phase cloak really does interfere with the iota waves emitted by the Kabrigati phenomena, then it would be more logical to inform all TacFleet captains of the dangers of using it indiscriminately."
"Maybe there's more to it than we thought, then," mused Beddoes. "Do you still have that tape?"
"I told you, it was impounded by Admiral Sanzei--"
"And they're going to erase the files--" Captain Beddoes stopped in his tracks. "Back to the ship! Hurry!"
USS Ffestinog, Docking Bay
2035 Hours
They were just in time. While Beddoes stalled for time, even going as far as to buy the two techs a few rounds at the ship's bar, Sarevok hurried to copy the recording from the ship's computer onto a microdisk. Finally, the Vulcan stepped away from the console, the disk secreted in his ranking pips, and walked into the ship's bar to give the "all clear."
"Good day, Captain," he said stiffly. "I trust that you are doing well?" Beddoes noticed that the Vulcan's hands were twitching at his sides. Obviously he wasn't at all used to lying.
"Of course, of course." He gestured to a can of beer. "Want some?"
"I do not partake in fermented beverages, Captain." Sarevok's hands were now scratching uncomfortably at his neck, as the Vulcan tried (and failed) to stop himself from fingering the golden button where the microdisk was hidden. "Mineral water will be fine."
As Beddoes moved to pour him a cup of water, the curious eyes of the two technicians proved too much for him. With one last spasmodic jerk, the pips flew off of Sarevok's uniform and clattered to the floor.
"Groovy," one of the techs said. "Check it out, Ted, it's like there's a hidden chip inside one of those, dude!"
"Really, Bill?" The other tech glanced at them appraisingly. "You're right, bro! Isn't that just radical? Check it out--"
As it became clear that Sarevok was too stunned by the use of old twentieth-century vocabulary to do anything, Beddoes had to take action. Quickly he snatched up all three of the pips and stuffed them into his pocket.
Bill and Ted had suddenly become all business. "We, like, need to see that, sir," one of them said, his long black hair drooping over his eyes. "It's like, you know, our job, if you know what I mean."
Shit, Beddoes thought. "Sorry, boys, but I can't let you have them," he said hurriedly.
"And, like, why not?"
Time to think fast, hot stuff--and suddenly, an idea struck him. "It's a private tape," said the captain. "It's a very private tape."
Bill and Ted looked utterly unimpressed. "So what? What's it got, then?"
"It's got holograms," said the captain conspiratorially. "You know--of things."
"Things? Like, what things?"
"Like things Orion slave girls do, you know? Those kind of things. And you'll understand why I don't want it exposed to the admiral that our good science officer here watches those kinds of--tapes. Don't you, boys?" Beddoes was warming to his subject.
Realization dawned in the eyes of the two techs. "Ah!" said one of them, winking. "Like, we understand totally," said the other.
"So if you don't mind, why don't you go do what you have to do with our computer system now? I'll buy you another round afterwards...?"
Bill and Ted grinned foolishly as they left the room. "Peace love dope, man," said one of them, waving two fingers at Sarevok.
As the doors shut behind them, Captain Beddoes collapsed against the wall. "Don't do that again, you stupid-ass piece of--"
For a moment, Sarevok looked like he would have gladly punched the captain in the stomach. Just for a moment.
---------------------------------------------
USS Hyperion-C, En Route to System Vulcan
Sickbay
0300 Hours
Every so often the notoriously temperamental equipment in Sickbay would go offline and Caitlin Denning would go crazy trying to fix it. How come every piece of shit in here has to die in the morning? Saboteurs, I tell you, saboteurs-- "You! What the fuck are you doing with those tricorders! Put those right where I left them!"
A terrified orderly looked at her, dropped the tricorder, and scurried off as far away as he could get from the CMO. He'd heard tell that she shouldn't be crossed in the morning, and, providing he got out of here alive, this would be something that would only substantiate that claim. "Damn young 'uns," Caitlin muttered. "Kick them off of the ship and let them freeze their asses off in vacuum."
This time it was one of the neural stimulators that was on the fritz. Somehow its memory had been wiped clean and now the computer knew just as much about stimulating nerves as Franz Kafka knew about sex. Which was something that wouldn't be beneficial to her patients (or victims, depending on perspective).
She pulled out a healthy stim and tried to see if she could transfer the memory cartridges to the dead one without damaging both. That was too much to ask at three in the morning, and after slamming both of the now broken ones down on her desk, she buried her head in her arms to see if she could catch some sleep. The stims would have to wait until morning.
Just as she dozed off, however, she was woken up by the loud ringing of her bell. If there was anything worse than catching the CMO while she was tired, it was being the person to wake her up. She grabbed a hypospray loaded with a paralytic enzyme and went for the door.
She dropped her hypospray when she saw who it was.
Boris Kurchatov was standing in front of her, his already thin frame weak and emaciated. His striking blue eyes were bloodshot and had lost their usual sparkle, and he had to lean on the doorframe just to stand up.
"Christ," she whispered. "What happened to you?"
"Rad leak...in the engine room..." He coughed and spittle flecked with blood flew out of his mouth. "Minor...I thought...minor...apparently not--" Kurchatov tipped over and fell.
"Dammit, you should have come to me sooner--" She gently lifted him up and helped him over to an empty cot. "Stay there and let's see what's happening."
What she saw on her tricorder screen made her want to scream.
All the chief engineer heard was a sharp intake of breath. "What...ees...et?" he asked weakly, lapsing into Russian.
"You'll be fine," she said back. "You'll be fine. You'll be fine..." She closed his eyes soothingly and injected 5ccs of a powerful tranquilizer into his arm. Kurchatov stiffened and then relaxed.
"Fuck," Caitlin muttered. "Major cell damage, loss of bone mass, organs losing structural integrity--orderly!"
The terrified orderly ran up to her and saluted smartly.
"Get the admiral. NOW."
"Ma'am, I don't know where the admiral is right now--"
"Well, I really don't care, now, do I? Find Kieran. And tell him to get down here if he has any shred of humanity left in him."
"But--"
"Listen," she said dangerously, and the orderly trembled in his shoes. "If you don't find Kieran in the next--" She glanced at her watch. "--five minutes, I'll cut out your entrails and shove them up your ass. And I'm serious, too."
I don't doubt it, thought the orderly. He saluted smartly again and dashed out of Sickbay.
Holodeck
0304 Hours
Kieran had never moved from that spot and in fact was so engrossed in his conversation with a hologram that he almost didn't hear the voice screaming at him from outside the door. "Computer, end program," he said reluctantly and watched as S'Tasik dissolved into nothingness. With one last look back at the empty gray room, he stepped outside and confronted the orderly.
"What do you want?" he said coldly.
"CMO--Sickbay--wants you--"
Dammit, I told her not to interrupt me unless it was an emergency-- "I'll be there immediately."
Sickbay
0310 Hours
"What is it?" Kieran asked without preamble as he ran to Caitlin Denning, who was sitting in a chair, her head buried in her arms. "What's happening?"
The CMO raised her eyes to meet the admiral. "He's dying," she said shortly, her voice choked with tears. "There's nothing I can do about it."
Kieran was stricken speechless. "Why?" he asked at last.
"Radiation leak." Caitlin's small frame was heaving as she tried to stay calm. "Apparently he went in there to patch it up and--and--" That was as far as she could get.
The admiral sank heavily into his seat. All of his years had now hit him with full force. He had been granted a reprieve at the planet of the Ba'ku, but that was only a reprieve. He should have known that he couldn't avoid death. He should have known that it had the power to hurt him, even if he lived for a hundred more years. Finally: "So now what?"
"Life has to go on, doesn't it?" Caitlin whispered hoarsely. "We bury him and then get back to living our normal lives."
Silence descended oppressively over the two of them as they stared at Boris' life signs on the computer terminal. His heartbeat slowly slowed its beating and then...
Stopped.
Caitlin collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. "Why?" she screamed, her face streaked with tears that she could not go on hiding. "Why can't we have stayed just the way we were? Why did this have to happen to us? What did we ever do--"
Admiral Kieran Forester had stopped listening long before that. He was sitting hunched over in the chair, a splash of red against the clean white walls of Sickbay, with his eyes closed and his head bowed.
And in a corner of his mind, a little voice began to speak.
"To mourn is illogical, Commodore..."