Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry
© Copyright Paramount Studios and Viacom
Delta Fleet concept created by Mark Kingsnorth and Anders Lundgren
KessRith and Ssorans © Copyright FASA Corp.
Tortuga base
Stardate: 59253.5
Tortuga was an arid world on the fringe of explored space. During the five-year war against the Falcarian Confederacy, Tortuga had been the Federation's last hope in what had become an extremely hostile environment.
Now that the war was finally over, many of Tortuga's residents had returned to the New Terra colony that once been under occupation, or with the wormhole having finally become stable again, have opt to return home.
Not all have left this hospitable place, where one had to wear an EVA suit just to walk outside. One such man, puffing away on a cigar, watched out the viewport of his office as the shuttlecraft came into view and headed for the pressurized landing bay. One of his subordinates informed him over the comm but he simply grunted a reply. He glanced at the service record still on his computer screen though he had already committed its contents to memory long before this moment. He tapped a command and the screen went blank.
In his line of work, he learned patience and knew how long it took to reach his office from the landing bay. He sat at his desk, which like the room itself, had little of his personality in view. No photos on the wall, no mementos or knickknacks gathered from alien worlds. Very spartan.
The first to enter was his adjutant and his guest soon followed. She was an attractive blonde with the triple pips of a commander and wearing command red. He motioned for her to take a seat.
"Welcome to Tortuga, Commander Perry." He said, his expression giving nothing away. "Do you know why I sent for you?"
Commander Julia Perry had never met this man before but she restrained her curiosity. "I was ordered by Admiral Actual to report here." She paused, adding, "He did not fill me in."
Actual was the sector's commander-in-chief.
Her British accent reminded him of Catherine fforbes. "I understand you have declined the option to return to the Federation." He sidestepped her inquiry, for the moment. "I, myself, have been stuck here for nine years..." His thoughts wandered but for a moment. "You had the second highest grade in your class at the command college but since the one who beat you was a Vulcan, I would say that's damn brilliant. You got an analytical mind, know your way around computer systems like nobody's business and...Have great potential."
"Excuse me, Sir but I really don't know what you expect of me." She wasn't sure where this was going. The man across the desk from her wore no uniform but had the bearing of one who normally did.
"I want to show you something." He stood up and so she did the same. They left the office and headed down the corridor. As they walked, he chatted about everything except for the reasons she was here.
They entered a transporter room where they soon rematerialized at another location. Another short walk and they were in an observation deck though the large panoramic windows had the shutters closed.
"I understand that you requested to be the Starfleet Attache at our new embassy on Falcaria."
"Yes." She answered. "There has been a lot of changes there and I want to do my part."
He smiled. "Of course you do." Her former captain and lover – if his sources had been accurate – had finally been crowned king of Falcaria after the fascist dictatorship toppled after 45 years in power. "I have an alternative for you to consider." He went over to a panel beside the windows, tapped a button and the shutters opened. There was one starship clearly visible.
"She's the USS Wraith, Defiant B Class, in need a captain."
Julia gazed at the ship which lacked the usual Starfleet markings. Even her name and registry were unusually absent. "I appreciate the gesture..."
"It is not a gesture, my dear for I don't hand out commands lightly. The war is over but that doesn't mean this sector and the unknown beyond is a safe place. Those liberated colonists getting drunk on New Terra, Michelob, Dawson's World need to feel secure after the injustices they've suffered. Sure, you could go to diplomatic functions on Falcaria but I think you're a woman who needs to have more of a challenge."
"So exactly who are you?" She was still looking at the ship.
"I should have introduced myself back there. I'm Vice Admiral Machiavelli."
"Machiavelli? Starfleet Intelligence." She surmised, remembering hearing that name in her travels.
"It's not a dirty word. What I need is a capable commanding officer to take her out. You can crew her with whoever you like, all I ask is that three of my operatives go along for the ride." Machiavelli leaned on a console.
She didn't say anything for a few minutes. "What if I say no?"
"Say no, to a command of your own?" He folded his arms. "I suppose you could, after all there's that Nova class ship, the Hubble, that came over from the other side a few days ago. I understand it's going to study a quasar...Truly exciting stuff."
"I don't know..." She was still looking at the Wraith and unlike him, she wore her expression quite well. He could tell she wanted command, and her intricate knowledge of technology meant that the ship's hardware would not phase her in the least.
"Yes you do. We need the Wraith out there. I would think after all that son of a bitch did to you and your friends, you'd want him to pay for it." Said Machiavelli. "I want you to find him."
He was referring to Custle tr'Khellian, a Romulan admiral of the Tal Shiar and former self-imposed dictator of Falcaria, who fled after his defeat in the war. Several ships had been assigned to catch him but unsuccessfully so far. There was actually a wager going on in the fleet of whose ship would take him down.
Julia had indeed lost a lot of good friends because of Custle. In fact, she had been marooned in this region because of the Romulan's actions. "Okay, just understand, I won't be your bitch...Admiral."
"Assemble a crew, Commander." He smiled, not taking offense since he heard worse.
Julia made a few calls but did not board the Wraith, at least not yet. She watched as work bees circled over the vessel, completing last minute repairs. Several hours must have passed because her former Andorian shipmate had finally arrived.
"Commander." He said, making her turn around.
"Don't be so formal, Tlue."
Lt. Commander Tlue stepped in beside her. "So this is the Wraith?"
She knew he was feigning surprise because before his stint as security chief, had worked for the SFI. The ship itself had been one of the first group to make up the Sixth Fleet, more commonly known as Delta Fleet. Many years had passed since then.
"Tlue, please." She rolled her eyes. "I didn't ask you to come to play games."
"You want me as your first officer." He folded his arms, looking at the starship. "The last time we spoke, I had assumed you would be taking up the Starfleet Attache job on Falcaria." He paused. "Machiavelli can be quite convincing when it suits him."
"Did you ever serve under him?"
"No but I have heard a lot about him. His operations are...very covert but nothing, thus far, to get him in hot water."
"If I am to take this command, I need someone who has experience with these spooks." She was looking right at him, not quite imploring but definitely making a big request of him.
He had never confided his plans, of whether he would return to the Alpha Quadrant. He had planned to stay and suspected, like her, his loyalty to their former captain and now king of Falcaria, Sword Starheavens. "Of course, Julia. Have you gone aboard?"
"No." She replied grudgingly. "After serving on both Starships Amon-Re for over a decade, it seems strange to be anywhere else."
"That ship out there is a new beginning, for both of us. You will, of course, need officers you can trust because that, in the end, is what essential when working for Machiavelli."
"I thought you would try to talk me out of getting involved with SFI." He had already motioned for her to head for the docking port.
"If you intend on finding Custle, an Intelligence ship is your best chance." They had reached the docking port and he tapped in the commands to open the access hatch.
'I'm a bit nervous." She whispered so as not to be overheard by the security guards nearby.
"Your ship awaits, Captain." He addressed her not by rank but position, a tradition in Earth's terrestrial navies. He put out his hand toward the access corridor where on the other side was the Wraith's hatch.
She took a breath and started walking, followed by Tlue. She opened the other hatch and stepped into her first command. The crew must have been alerted, because some were waiting for her. There were junior officers and crew aboard but not senior officers of which she was to select. A gray-haired Trill, in Operations Gold approached.
"Chief Norvo Pren." He said, introducing himself. "I've served on the Wraith since her commissioning and know these systems better than anyone."
She had looked over the crew manifest before coming aboard and remembered this man. The only one left aboard from the original crew, was a veteran of both regional wars and was duly credited. "What's the ship's status?" She asked him, attempting to look as officious as she could.
"All systems are ready, Ma'am. We will be ready to leave on your order." Pren did not appeared to be phased by her presence, the ship's fifth CO in less than a decade.
"Thank you, Chief." She replied but before anything else could be said, Tlue quickly added,
"Chief, could you take the Commander on a tour? She'll need to get up to speed."
Both Julia and Pren looked in Tlue's direction until the chief finally said. "Of course. If you would follow me, Ma'am..."
Julia stared at Tlue but went along with the tour. The Andorian went up to the Bridge and on a ship this size, that did not take very long. There were a few crewmen under a noncom. The noncom, a petty officer first class, immediately approached Tlue. "Sir, welcome aboard, I'm-."
Tlue cut him off. "All I need is a secure, outside commlink." The petty officer stood silent a moment before barking an order. "You'll be able to use the ready room, Sir."
The XO went into the room and sealed it. Looking around, he noticed that it had already been thoroughly cleansed of its previous occupant. He went over to the computer, attached a device to it, and began routing out a signal. It did not take long before it was received on the recently designated Starbase 771 that had replaced the deep space stations that had previously served as Starfleet's regional HQ.
"I'm in." He said when the face of the other person appeared on screen.
It had been a while before Julia had her assembled senior staff present. They were, for the most part, former shipmates of hers and thus felt the most comfortable with. Lt. Jobo, a Caitian, would be the Science Officer. Lt. Carlos Bernando, the young helmsman, would continue those duties here. Lt. Danny Baker, who had served on three other Delta Fleet ships, would be chief engineer; and like Bernando, was still in his twenties. Lt. Zhao Ziyang had been a last minute appointment but was recommended by Tlue as being the logical choice as chief of security. After some discussion, Chief Pren would take over Sigint. Dr. Anton Ionescu was an older man who sported a goatee; he seemed unimpressed by the youth around the table.
Julia did not get started, though she had lifted her PADD and was about to speak. The door opened and a dark-skinned, rather attractive woman with a serious demeanor ,walked in. Her black hair was in a tight bun, showing off her strong cheek bones. She wore a gray turtle neck and pants, black boots and leather bomber jacket – hardly Starfleet issue. The only thing regulation was the gold rank insignias on her shoulders; a major.
"Sorry to interrupt Commander." She said, remaining standing just within the door. "I am Major Sarfina Mlambo, this vessel's strategic operations officer. If it's alright with the Commander, I'd like to brief you on our mission."
Julia subconsciously scratched her throat. "By all means, Major."
"I do not have to remind you that everyone aboard is subject to the Federation Secrets Act. Any violation is subject to court martial and/or punishable by a maximum of two years at a penal colony." The Major stared at each officer in the room so as to make it quite clear what is expected of them.
"I'm sure they all understand." Julia stated, slightly annoyed.
Mlambo did not show any reaction to the commander's words and instead activated a monitor on the wall. The image was one all in the room had become quite familiar with.
"Custle tr'Khellian has become our priority. We are to do everything in our power to locate him and the Wraith is best equipped to do this. His warbird, the Baatine, as you are aware, was jointly attacked by the Montana, Duguay-Trouin and the Hunter...And Destroyed."
The more brash, younger officers all hooted in excitement but soon settled down by Julia's glare. That battle had been long in coming and the crews of those ships received medals for achieving it.
"Custle did escape but the Bellerophon has recently picked up his scent." She paused. "In uncharted space. We are to proceed to these coordinates." The monitor's image changed to a starchart and zoomed into a region.
"We've all heard rumors of Custle being spotted a dozen times all over the sector. Why would this be any different?" Asked Bernando, who leaned on the table.
"Has anyone considered that he might have just fled through the wormhole." Suggested Dr. Ionescu, who seemed bored.
"We've been checking all outgoing ships for any of the fugitives." The Major remained composed. "This rumor is more credible so we check it out."
The 'fugitives' were those of Custle's upper echelon, both Romulan and Falcarian, that had carried out war crimes that included the deaths of eight million on Orzii. A few were no longer fugitives anymore... The Armed Forces Chief of Staff and the Falcarian proconsul were both captured soon after Falcaria's defeat and were being detained for trial. The head of the secret police (HKL) was killed during a shootout while attempting to evade capture. Custle's daughter, Commander Romari, captured during the war, had died under unusual circumstances while in Starfleet custody.
"Once the operatives are aboard, Commander, we'll be ready to depart on your orders."
"May I interject." Ionescu put his hand out. "This ship has a cloaking device correct. Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't that a violation of the Treaty of Algeron with the Romulans?"
There was a bit of negative comments, again from the younger officers, before the doctor continued. "Maybe these kids don't remember the Pegasus fiasco..."
Mlambo answered. "Praetor Tal'aura has waved the treaty in our case." She did not elaborate and the doctor did not ask her too.
"Get up to speed with your perspective departments. The Wraith is not only a different class of ship than you're use to but she has unique technology that I want you to be familiar with." Julia informed her staff. "That is all."