Creatively Composed by
The Crew of the Acheron:
Roc Williams
Salient Lyric
Jarelek
Aldius Akone
Roc's Notes: This mission directly followed a fleet mission that saw the GCF lose it's longtime leader, Admiral Errland to an act of treachery. There was a great deal of hidden hurt onboard the ship. Despite personal feelings, the Acheron did have business to attend to.
Dramatic Persona:
In order of appearance…
Captain Roc Williams: Captain of the USS Acheron, Williams is a decorated and experienced leader. He is likely the most directly affected by the death of Admiral Errland. Errland was a longtime friend of Roc's. He is forced to court martial one of his officers following the events of the 'Borg Monolith'.
Lieutenant Salient Lyric: Lyric is a quirky member of the Entrolian race, a people bent to the will of their almost-deific leader, Emperor Dar Evil. As a telepath, Lyric was adversely affected by the Monolith that the Borg created. He did not posses the self control to govern his actions, and fled the ship in his time of personal crisis. His actions placed Captain Williams, Commander Samms, and Admiral Errland at risk. It is for those actions that he is being disciplined
Admiral Connie Taminyatd: Admiral Taminyatd is the staff admiral that has been dispatched to the Acheron to facilitate the court martial of Lieutenant Lyric. Her exact job description is a little hazy, as she seems to do all the jobs that no one else really wants, such as court-martials.
Ensign Jarelek: Jarelek is not a typical Vulcan. Gifted with an unusual insight into the workings of the universe, Jarelek is currently biding his time as Chief Engineer of the Acheron. He has invented several technologies currently used by the Federation. Jarelek is the chief target of antagonism for Salient's antics, though the two are actually very close.
Ensign Aldius Akone: Akone is a gifted pilot and tactician. He is a recent graduate of the Academy and has yet to be posted aboard a starship. He was aboard the Enterprise during the 'Monolith Incident'.
In the Captain's Ready room…Roc felt the back of his head where the sutures had been placed. They itched... badly. His ribs did not itch; they ached. Never in his life, had he been so battered and bruised, and these wounds had come from angry Borg... That was just the thing that was bothering him. Usually the Borg would attack in a calculated and planned maneuver- one that would apply a very measured amount of force to each tactical element present on the field of battle. But this time, it was different. The Daniel Samms drone had lashed out- almost in revenge. That was not Borg like. The Dar Evil drone had done the same thing, only in a greater degree. It was not as if the Borg were fighting as an means to an end, but rather just to inflict pain for the sake of doing so. Returning wrongs was not in the Borg's list of tactics.
Long ago, as a brash young Lieutenant, working a job in the Counter-Borg Department of Starfleet Headquarters in between ship assignments, Roc Williams had made a daring claim. He had stated, in a report to the President of the Federation that it was only a matter of time until the Borg recognized the place of emotion in tactical application, and that when they did so, they would be unstoppable as an enemy of Starfleet. Channeling rage, hate, anger and aggression into fierce combat was what had made Klingons the most feared warriors in the galaxy from the 19th-23rd centuries. They had fallen primarily because of a lack of technological advancement. The Borg did not lack technological advancement. The one factor that Starfleet had always had going for them against the Borg was heart. It couldn't be measured, planned on or prepared for. The cold and calculating Borg were surprised time and time again by the tenacity of tiny little Starfleet ships that took vast amounts of resources to destroy or assimilate. Heart, was the tactical element that the Borg could not understand... until now.
Roc feared that the Borg, in assimilating a telepath with the strength of Dar Evil, even for a short time, had opened the thinking of the collective to emotion. If the Borg grew heart... well... God help us all. Roc rose with a groan, leaving his PADD behind. There was not one other Starfleet officer, that Roc knew, that didn't keep an audio log. Old habits die hard holding on... Roc thought. He rubbed his ribs gently.
The Acheron was limping back to Space Station Hecate, and the repair station. Much of the work would be completed on the way, but some repairs would have to wait for several pieces of necessary equipment. Another ship had come along side to assist in repairs, and to bring aboard a Staff Admiral to conduct a court martial. That was where Roc was headed now.
Protocol required Salient Lyric to be as far away as possible from the administrative official who would be conducting his court martial. The Admiral would be beaming onboard anytime now. To come into contact with the Admiral outside of the courtroom could constitute not only a pseudo-illegal attempt to sway the opinion of the official but also an extraordinarily uncomfortable situation in which Salient would be sneered at most heartily. Depending on the Admiral, of course. Thus, to be in the transporter room as the Admiral beamed aboard would be highly irregular and abnormally stupid.
But of course, fate
worked its peculiar magic once again.
It started when the contents
of Salient's beta-test Blender of Perfection came to life. He had
been fiddling with the thing in the hopes of distracting himself from
reality. The half a banana, Gouda quiche and bran oatmeal he had been
blending suddenly exploded in all directions from the Blender.
Disappointed that his newest Blender-attempt had failed, but enjoying
the glowing feeling of blowing something up, Salient was sufficiently
distracted that he did not notice as the viscous, lumpy mass
re-formed into a highly organized amoebic life-form.
When he did notice, he promptly did a dance of joy and named him Grekth. Grekth was a rather yellowish-brownish shaded fellow, about 8'' who enjoyed hide-and-seek. And hide he did. In Salient's personal lab, in the quantum reflux generator, in his extra-very-super-crazy-secret hiding panel, and in Ensign Buxcroft's hosiery. The latter of which was already strained to maximum and did not hold up well under the additional strain of a very playful Grekth.
As Grekth was recovered from his last hidey-place, Salient quickly discovered the amoebic life-form's favorite pastime. In a flash he was in Salient's left boot, then back in Buxcroft's apron (not Starfleet standard issue, by the way) then in Ensign Sevlon's antennae-cast (which had been reattached for the third time this month.) In a very short amount of time Grekth had ensconced himself in just about every article of clothing available in the Science Labs Prime, leaving slime and oatmeal-residue everywhere.
Having exhausted the supply of vestments in the Labs, Grekth sped outside in search of new places to hide. And, as luck, fate, (and I, the easily amused author), would have it, Grekth somehow found his way to Transporter Room 2, where the auspicious and imperious Admiral Connie Taminaytd had just arrived. Unsuspecting, the rather stout, prickly looking Admiral fluffed her expansive bouffant and tested for dust on the transporter pad. Finding none (Jarelek had just buffed it) she humphed and shrugged, as though the dirt had escaped her but would be hunted down without mercy wherever it lurked. Desperately attempting to catch his freshly blended friend, Salient dove into the Transporter Room, stretching to get his hands on Grekth. But the creature was too fast.
It sped through the door, past a disgruntled Captain Williams, up onto the platform, and up the highly over-pleated pant leg of Admiral Taminaytd.
"COURT-MARTIAL!"
As fate would have it, it was about that time when Jarelek and a crew of engineers and security officers were dashing after a neon-green glowing marmoset that was flailing and screeching its way down the corridor.
"Go around," said Jarelek to his assistant chief engineer, Ensign Clayton, "And prepare for defensive ground maneuver Omega-omega-omega-tri-episilon-phi-kappa-theta-upsilon-eta-iota-lambda-rho... version four."
Clayton, ever-ready with his PADD, finished
writing down his orders and cross-referencing them with the main
computer.
"Aye, sir!"
And with that, Clayton and two other crewmembers dashed back the way they had come. Soon, Lyric's marmoset of a practical joke would be in Starfleet custody, no more free to roam the ship.
"Jarelek to Clayton," said the Vulcan, "Are you ready?"
"We're in position," came the reply, "Waiting for orders."
Jarelek peeked around the corner where the Marmoset had stopped to pick his fur and lick himself in places, which for any other humanoid species, is considered socially unacceptable. Unfortunately, only nanoseconds before Jarelek could order the charge, the Tachyon-radiant marmoset took off and disappeared behind the doors labeled "Transporter room two."
"Security team to transporter room two," Jarelek heard Clayton yell as they both converged on the door.
Jarelek nodded to his assistant. Simultaneously, they barged through the door with raven rifles ready to fire standard Starfleet issue marmoset tranquillizer darts. The security personnel filed in behind them and surrounded the room, some with ravens, others with nets, and yet others with just their angry faces.
It was about this time when Jarelek saw a stiff, prim-proper lady who, judging from the trail of slime up and down her leg, had apparently slipped in some sort of gelatinous slime… which made for a considerably unsettled Vulcan considering that he had just buffed that pad not an hour ago.
Upon further examination of the woman, he spied the marmoset attempting to construct a nest of sorts out of her Tower-of-Babel hairdo while, all the while, she was shrieking and flailing as much as the monkey.
"All hands, apprehend the hairy baboon!" shouted Clayton.
All armaments were aimed at the admiral lady. As soon as the order was given, all two-dozenish men fired their tranquilizers and nets.
More shrieking and screaming ensued as the admiral found herself off balance and crashing to the floor, covered in green-tachyon residue, brownish-yellow slime, and marmoset tranquilizer.
Yet, somehow, the irritatingly clever monkey escaped once again and dashed out of the transporter room.
"All hands," announced Jarelek in his most official-sounding voice, "Pursue and annihilate."
With that, Jarelek, Clayton, and his team of security officers swept like a storm out of the transporter room after Salient's marmoset, leaving Salient and Captain Williams alone with the admiral, who, between gasps and sputterings, was blubbering something about being referred to as a baboon.
Captain William's attempts at consolation seemed to be lacking."Again Ma'am, I assure you that the-"
"I'm tired of your excuses, Captain Williams. I don't know why you are unable to control the goings on of your own ship, but I assure you that Admiral Telik, and Admiral Shepherd will both be receiving reports from be about the things I have observed here."
"What are you going to tell them, that a semi-sentient blob of oatmeal crawled up your pant leg and then a radioactive marmoset messed up your hair?" Roc fired back with a straight face. Admiral Taminaytd was not amused, but she did not respond. She did, however, storm out of the transporter room.
Roc breathed heavily. "What are you doing here, Mr. Lyric?"
Lyric opened his mouth to respond, but chose not to. He hung his head, and exited in the opposite direction of the Admiral.
--Roc Williams: Conference Room
The conference room had been reconfigured to hold the proceedings of a Starfleet court martial. The table had been repositioned to one side of the room, and there were only three chairs present- two on one side- one on the other Captain Williams, and Admiral Taminaytd filled the two chairs located behind the table. She had taken a few moments to exchange her uniform for one that was oatmeal and slime free and to pull her hair back into a tight bun. Buffonte free- these proceedings would be.
As the convening authority, Roc began. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Salient Lyric, you are here today facing the charges of Dereliction of Duty, Desertion, Insubordination and Endangerment of Ship and Crew because of your actions regarding the Borg monolith. You are aware that you have the option of having someone to speak on your behalf?"
"I am." Salient was uncharacteristically quiet.
"And you wave that right?"
"I do."
"What is your plea?"
"Guilty as charged."
"Lovely," chimed the brusque Admiral Taminaytd. "Now that that's over with – 10 years in Solitary Confinement and 12 of Public Service - "
"Now wait a minute, Admiral." Roc stopped her with a hand, a daring move, but the Captain had faced down worse women. He'd kissed the Borg Queen – not many starship Captains could say that. "Protocol requires that we adhere to the rules of court. Which means statements must be made. Evidence must be brought. Salient," and he glanced at his Lieutenant, "though he's waived the right to have a defense attorney, is permitted to speak for himself. These things will affect what sort of verdict should be given."
Admiral Taminaytd shifted uncomfortably in her seat, picked at her left eyelash. "Oh, very well. But let's not be here all day."
Roc stood. "Opening statement to be made by Salient Lyric, the defense. Mr. Lyric, do you have an opening statement prepared?"
Salient also stood, musing. Not to be left out, the Admiral jumped to her feet as well. "I am Salient Lyric, an Entrolian," he paused and considered this for a moment, "An Entrolian in the service of the Federation." His eyes dropped to the deck plate. "When I signed up for Starfleet Academy, due to my… unusual ethnicity – oh, by Dar's Flames, why sugarcoat it? – every single member of my species wants to rip the intestines out of every member of yours. For that reason, I was subjected to intense background checks, eternal personality examinations, and never-ending character analysis."
Salient paused in his narrative. "After all that, I was taken aside by Admiral Tristan." He looked back up at his Captain and his Judge. "He told me that everyone should strive to spite their past – to prove in the present that the person who they are can overcome anything they've been or lived or done. Even if I were from the Order itself, he let me join Starfleet, against the vote of several other highly ranked officers."
"Mr. Lyric," interrupted the Admiral. "We're not looking for a life story, this is an opening statement." She buffed her nails on her uniform front.
Salient breathed deeply. "I understand, sir. I am merely trying to help you understand where I am coming from. Not as an excuse, but as a testimony. Having come from the world of Entrol," he said, "I was bred to care about my existence only. Orders were followed because if you didn't, you would be killed immediately. If an order could be escaped, you did so. There was only loyalty to the Emperor, then to yourself. As such, after losing faith in Emperor Dar Evil, I had a duty only to me."
Salient paused. "After recent happenings, especially with the death of the Admiral, I have begun to seriously rethink my priorities. Starfleet demands duty to its cause first, its Captains second. I have betrayed that duty, and I realize that. But know, Admiral, that the reason I joined Starfleet was not to escape the Order."
"I joined Starfleet to spite my past. I joined to overcome myself."
"And though it has been gradual," Salient admitted sadly, "and though I certainly have much left to learn, and much of the old Negative Order in me – I'm trying." With that, Salient sat.
"Well," purred the Admiral, "I don't know about you, but I'm feeling heart-warmed." She turned to Roc Williams. "Delightful. And now, the statement from the prosecution." She announced unnecessarily to the room, "The Prosecution, The United Federation of Planets, will now make its opening statement!" She batted her flaky eyelids. "And the Representative for the State is… Oh!" she giggled. "That would be me."
Roc frowned. "You're judge… and prosecution?"
"I was the only legal official in parsecs – had to double up." She explained cheerfully. Her face was that of a cherub – her smile that of a toad.
"Of course…" Williams stared into her eyes intently. He sat.
She began in a loud, shrill voice, "This prosecution intends to prove that Lt. Salient Lyric did knowingly and willfully abandon his post at a critical moment, without permission of his superior officer, deserted ship without permission, disabled the sickbay computer, stole a government attack shuttle, and generally caused havoc for the entire fleet when they didn't need it – and…" she said pointedly,
"That Salient Lyric is indirectly responsible for the untimely death of Admiral Tristan Errland."
Shocked silence.
"I, however, believe that this has taken enough time for one day," the Admiral snappishly smiled, "and so this court is hereby adjourned to reconvene tomorrow at 0900. Dismissed!"
As Captain Williams stepped into the hallway, he stopped short at the sight of an unfamiliar face. "Can I help you?"
"Actually, Captain, I was hoping to help you...that is, to help one of your men." The Ensign extended his hand in greeting. "Ensign Aldius Akone, at your service."
Roc shook the young man's hand. "Captain Roc Williams. What exactly are you here for, Mr. Akone?"
"I understand Lt. Lyric is under court-martial even as we speak?"
Roc nodded. "That's not supposed to be common knowledge..."
"I hope you'll forgive the intrusion. Captain, I don't know how these things worked...I hope to never have too intimate a knowledge of court-martials...but I was hoping to testify on Mr. Lyric's behalf."
Williams raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. "On what grounds, Ensign? To my knowledge, you've had very little contact with my science officer."
"True enough. However, I understand it was Mr. Lyric who freed the Enterprise from Dar Evil's illusion. That means he not only saved us from certain destruction at the hands of the Borg, but he also gave us the only chance we had at saving the Admiral. It's not his fault we couldn't make it in time. I know I may not be much help, but I feel someone from the Enterprise ought to say something."
Captain Williams nodded slowly, considering the Ensign's offer. "Let me think it over tonight. I'll contact you if you're needed."
"Thank you, Captain."
Meanwhile in Engineering…With no more than a twitch of his eyebrow, Jarelek greeted the distraught Mister Lyric as the Entrolian walked into engineering. Jarelek's natural inclination was to post a security team on the man's derrière, but the look on his face clearly indicated that, for once, he meant no harm. In fact, Jarelek had never seen that particular look on that particular face. Composed of concern, certainly, and a hint of anger, but mostly sadness, it was plastered to him and looked like it would never leave.
"Hi," Lyric said, approaching Jarelek's office where the Vulcan sat working.
He turned around briefly, and then continued his work, "Greetings."
Lyric nodded slowly, and began walking around the office, examining the various displays and the controls. He ran his finger along the console, between the buttons, up the wall, just to distract himself.
"Can I do something for you, Mister Lyric?" Jarelek insisted.
Shaking his head pitifully, "No, I guess not," he replied. Then he turned to leave.
Jarelek was about to disregard the Entrolian's visit and allow him to leave, but something inside simply wouldn't have it.
"Mister Lyric," Jarelek said, standing from his partically synthesized chair, which then vanished. Jarelek continued, "I assume that you've come here hoping for some form of console…"
"You're right," interrupted Salient, putting his hands up to avoid a long speech, "I don't know what I was thinking. Sorry, I'll leave."
"Salient," Jarelek put a hand on the short Entrolian's shoulder, "I do hope everything goes better than expected."
Lyric looked somewhat relieved, but then he sighed, "I thought you would have been happy to see me go."
Jarelek suddenly felt as though he had just been asked what he thought about an ugly baby. Frantically, he tried to think of something diplomatic to say. Truth be known, he didn't want Salient Lyric to leave the Acheron, but he couldn't say that anymore than he could wish the man away.
"I think," he started, "That there are other posts for which you are well suited."
A look of disappointment draped itself over Lyric's face. His head hung low as he nodded and said that he understood.
"But" the Vulcan continued, "None for which you are better suited… than right here."
He looked somewhat encouraged, and a thin smile played over his face. "Really?"
"Well, not 'here' as in engineering, but here on the Acheron," Jarelek specified, "Perhaps on the other side of the Acheron… Somewhere that you can work… away from—"
But Lyric held up his hand to stop his verbal fumbling, "It's okay, Jarelek. I understand… and thanks."
Jarelek nodded. He was about to turn back to his work, but instead looked the Entrolian straight in his indigo eyes, and lifted his hand into the air, "Live long, and prosper, Salient Lyric."
Graciously, Lyric accepted the compliment as if it were the only one ever paid him. Then, he turned, and strolled out of engineering…
All the better for having stopped by, Jarelek hoped. Later that Night…
The dartboard on the wall of Roc's office was receiving nothing short of abuse tonight. Dart after dart were flung at it's worn face in frustration more than for amusement. Roc didn't know what to do.
It was clear to him that the Admiral was intent on ruining the career of his officer. Roc had initiated these proceedings with the intention of a reprimand being handed down and nothing more. Never did it enter his mind that the Entrolian would serve jail time for his actions. More than anything, Roc wanted to march down to the Staff Officer's Quarters and tell Admiral Taminaytd that she was being unreasonable... but could he? Roc didn't know. -Two more bull's-eyes-
Throwing caution to the wind, Roc did march for the transpad, and found himself on the habitation level. Before he changed him mind again, Roc was ringing the door chime on the Admiral's door. There was no turning back now. Taminaytd came to her door dressed in a uniform as before. This made Roc feel out of place in his civilian slacks and jacket.
"Captain, what can I do for you."
"May I have a word, Ma'am?"
"Certainly, please come in." Her tone was syrupy sweet. It was clear that Admiral Taminaytd did not have any ill will against the Acheron's Captain.
"Tea?" She asked pleasantly after the door had closed behind them.
Roc felt awkward, and no doubt he showed it.
"I'll make the brief"... A moment to think... "You are being unreasonable in your treatment of Mr. Lyric."
"Captain! It is improper for you to attempt to sway my decision-"
An up-raised index finger and sharp tone of voice cut Taminaytd off, mid sentence. "Admiral, it is improper for you to act as both judge, jury, and prosecution. It is improper for you to hand down a sentence before hearing remarks in the Lieutenant's defense. It is improper for you to make your conclusions based on the defendant's race, or any other factor outside of the evidence and testimony presented during these proceedings. Now, ma'am! I, as convening authority will not support any punishment of Mr. Lyric that will take him away from this ship. While your opinion of him will probably not be swayed, I will not loose this officer to bureaucratic procedure and racial bigotry! Do I make myself clear!" A deep breath... "Ma'am." and calmer tone.
The woman who had taken the Acheron by storm was now taken aback.
"Captain, your insubordination-"
"There is no insubordination here, Admiral. I am entirely within my rights as Mr. Lyric's CO, and the convening authority of this court martial to lay down guidelines as to how he should be punished. Now, tomorrow morning you will hear testimony from two Starfleet officers in Mr. Lyric's defense. I suggest that you listen to what they have to say. If objectivity is not present tomorrow, know this. Admirals Shepard and Telik are objective and they will see your rulings for what they are, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes Captain."
"Have a good night, Ma'am." Captain Williams did not run from the room... but he did retreat, quickly. Once outside he tapped his comm. "Jarelek?"
/\Yes Captain/\
/\ You work Alpha shift tomorrow, correct/\
/\ That is correct, Captain. /\
/\ Switch to Beta, and meet me in the briefing room at 0900. I want you to testify on Mr. Lyric's behalf. /\
/\ I thought you would never ask. /\ The un-Vulcan like response made Roc grin, and relax a little bit too.
Now he needed to find Ensign Akone. As the Captain searched for the young officer, there was a highly volatile situation developing in Science Labs Prime, of which he was completely unaware.
No rest for the wicked, they say. Well, Admiral Taminaytd certainly wasn't sleeping tonight.
It was 2200 hours, and Salient was piddling around the science labs, cranking this lever, adjusting that flywheel, and setting upright an overturned vial. Levers, flywheels, and vials being objects that no respectable Master Scientist's laboratory should be without. He tucked Grekth into his green gelatin suspension solution, which was hanging inside one of Ens. Sevlon's extra standard issue socks. Cooing over the quiche-born life form, Salient screwed in the lid and shut him up tight until tomorrow.
He was not in a bad mood, considering. He whistled a tune that was currently very popular on Entrol - Don't Ask Me Why I Ate Your Girlfriend's Spleen by a band called Lashing Ashley. Just when he'd gotten to the chorus:
If I'd known she was so
clingy,
I'dve eaten her long before;
Yeah, yeah;
But her
spleen was way too stringy
And I didn't want no more
No
more...
He heard the sound of the Lab's Prime door being opened. He looked up.
"Well, Mr. Lyric! Looks like you've quite the setup here." Taminaytd and her hair flooded into the room. She ran her finger over the railing.
Several responses came to mind, and none involved any less than 3 extra years imprisonment, so Salient settled for a reserved, "Good evening, Admiral." He immediately returned to his not-really-work, thoroughly ignoring her, and, of course, baiting her.
The Admiral tsked as she examined the dust on her finger, shook it out. She approached one of the more sensitive consoles, the one for the plasma lab experiments. "Captain Williams, in general," she specified, "seems to run a pretty tight ship."
Salient nodded absently, thought of the tachyon marmoset, and smiled. "That he does Admiral."
She floated away from the panel after it burped a foul tone at her. She alighted upon the Xenophysiology unit, but when she saw what it was, frowned in disgust and went over to gaze and poke at the Particle Synthesis Emitter. "Salient, I may call you Salient, surely? Salient, I want you to understand that there is absolutely nothing personal in my duties as magistrate for the court martial. Why, if Admirals Telik and Shepherd thought there was something personal," she laughed far too mock-heartily, took a deep breath. "Well, I would lose my job."
Salient grimaced. "I understand ma'am-"
"Sir."
"Sir… I understand that you are doing your duty to Starfleet. I wish I'd done mine." He stopped playing with his console. "Was there something you needed, sir?"
She whipped her head toward him, seemed to stare at him through one unblinking, highly manicured eye. "I just wanted you to understand me, Salient, dear." Ooh, that eye. That was scary. Salient could see the individual flakes of eyeliner. Gross.
"Uh… yeah Admiral… sure…" said Salient, backing slowly away. "Listen, I've got…" he looked around wildly, "I've got a stew, er, a screw… in the lab… that just won't wait another second. I've just got to go. I can't believe I left it there that long. I'll speak to you later…" and he took off towards the lab, the flake eye following.
As the door to Salient's personal lab was about to shut, and hand jutted inside, caught the door, slowly wedged it open. Salient stood in the back corner, frantically searching for a screw to screw in.
"What's this?" gasped the Admiral, hand over her heart. "This is not Starfleet approved equipment! This is… foreign!"
"That's a toaster, Admiral. It cooks bread."
"I don't see a STARFLEET APPROVED sticker."
Salient sighed. "I got it from the Klendaxans. They needed a biofilter, I needed a toaster."
She lunged to another device. "And this? What is this - a phonograph?"
"Actually, that's a trimetric hypochromatic inducer." Salient grinned.
"No STARFLEET APPROVED sticker on this piece either!" she cried.
"The Romulan ion discharge unit? I've had that for years."
Her hands landed on her hips. "Non Starfleet approved equipment can be hazardous to our personnel. It can cause injuries, death, and even unusual odors! You have no idea whether it's safe!"
"Actually… I have been a scientist for a number of years, Ma'a-"
"Sir!"
"Sir. And I generally take off the labels anyway…"
Her hair shook with rage. "When I come back here, I expect STARFLEET APPROVED to scream at me from every piece of equipment in this lavoratory-"
"Labora-"
"Don't you interrupt me! That's grounds for Court Martial."
The next morning found Ensign Akone busily reviewing some notes he had made for his upcoming testimony in Salient Lyric's favor. Captain Williams had accepted his offer the night before, and since then he'd been preparing. He stopped and rubbed his eyes for a moment, then took a sip of his customary morning tea. His mind drifted: he wondered where he was going to find good tea now that his garden in Yokohama was a charred rock.
He was shaken from his mental wanderings by the voice of Lt. Jarelek behind him.
"Mr. Akone?"
He turned to see the sober faced Vulcan at his shoulder. Quickly he stood to his feet and saluted the Lieutenant. "Yes sir?"
"At ease, Ensign. I'm here to show you to the court martial proceedings. We're both on schedule to testify shortly."
"Yes sir."
They walked in silence for several minutes. Aldius reviewed his notes on more time, then put the PADD away and gave a deep sigh.
"What's on your mind, Ensign?"
"Well...to be honest, Lt. Jarelek, I just hope I'm doing the right thing."
Jarelek nodded slightly, but said nothing. Akone continued:
"I've never been anywhere near a courtroom, and certainly never in the defense of a near absolute stranger. And to be honest, as I understand it, Mr. Lyric did leave his post. There's nothing I can do to refute that fact. However, I also know how you and he saved the Enterprise in her hour of need. I can testify firsthand to our absolute helplessness on board that ship. If Lt. Lyric really was a traitor, it makes little sense for him to pass up an opportunity to allow the GCF's flagship to be destroyed. Especially since no one would have thought to blame him for it. Still, I can't shake a suspicion there's something more to all this. Once - not so long ago - I saved a man's life who turned out to be one of the most evil beings I have ever had the displeasure of encountering. I've never decided whether it was a mistake to save him, but if it was, it's one I'd rather not repeat."
Jarelek was silent for several moments before answering. "I suppose that's up to you to decide, Ensign. But for what it is worth, I think you are doing the right thing."
"Thank you sir." Akone withheld the other reasons for his reticence. He was looking for someone, and it was entirely possible that Salient Lyric was that someone. He had to be sure...
The events of the previous day had left Lieutenant Lyric more playful than he had been in weeks. His glee only spelled dispair for his Science Staff, as he was known for taking his 'joy' out on them.
Wait for it...
Wait for it...
Ensign Buxcroft entered the Labs Prime. Salient gleefully pressed the button.
Explosions of light, sound, and motion! A mechanized arm flung itself at Buxcroft from the ceiling, smacking her on the forehead, on her commbadge, on her neck, on her back, on her boots, and on her ample derrière. The arm retreated, leaving large red stickers all over her body. She was now STARFLEET APPROVED.
She swore then and there to apply a sticker to Salient in such a place he would never forget. Salient whooped with joy and ran. It was going to be quite a day.
It was nearing time for the court martial to resume, and Salient was stretching out the kinks in his neck. Honestly, win or lose, be incarcerated or promoted (not a likely happenstance, but Salient had come to believe in the Power of Positive Thinking) he was ready for it to be over. He had wronged an organization that he had come to wholeheartedly believe in, and if he had to pay a penalty to continue to serve in that organization, he would pay it with a smile. That's the state of insanity he was in this morning.
But… he wasn't going to roll over and play dead for this Admiral. Ha ha… no, he would not. He would be eloquent, persuasive, charismatic, ebullient, and generally brilliant in performance. She would have no choice but to say: "Oh, Salient, (I may call you Salient, surely?) You are so incredibly well worded, not to mention ravishingly handsome, that I just can't bear to send you somewhere where no one living will ever see that gorgeous face! Here, take this trophy!" And he would get a trophy.
Okay, maybe not. But maybe it wouldn't be too bad. Of course, judging from his own track record in official trials, he should probably be prepared to cut off some part of his anatomy. A pound of flesh would be apropos. A pound of mind, a pound of spirit, a pound of flesh. Then his wounds would be complete. Quite humorous, at least to Salient.
A static buzz flashed through him as he walked up the corridor – a light one. He recognized its meaning – an untrained telepath was near. He couldn't remember any person on the Acheron who would fit that bill.
It was that man… that man who he'd met in the Café. He didn't remember his name. He did remember his mind – and he wondered at it. There was something… something there… but he didn't know what. At one time, he could have reached out into the ethers of space, time, and mind and found that filial connection, but now… it was like rubbing a cat the wrong way. The ethers snarled at him as he approached, and the corridors of time and mind closed to him.
He shrugged. Such is life.
So instead, he looked into the man's eyes, and he saw reflected there the tumblers of existence, eternally locking together and unlocking again in precision irresistible – the perfection of a waterfall, having total prescience of the exact place each droplet will land, rounding its own hard edges and driving itself to deeper depths, with ultimate flexibility, undeniable beauty, and melodic power.
"That's pretty cool," remarked Salient.
Not wanting to freak out the man by staring deeply into his eyes, Salient reached out to shake his hand. "Salient Lyric."
"Aldius Akone." So that's what it was. Whew. "Good to see you again, Lt. Lyric," said the Ensign. Jarelek was there too, and Salient nodded to him. He was still a little squirmy from that whole family moment they'd had yesterday, and didn't really know what to say in the aftermath. So he talked to Akone instead.
"Here to check out the ship?" Salient asked. "We could use a helmsman… our computer does most of the flying for us right now… and it's…" he glanced around nervously, leaned in and whispered, "not very good. It has trouble with nebulae. Every once in a while, it gets lost in a nebula, or does little swirly maneuvers to show off. And since the Fleet is based in a nebula… well, you can imagine our concern."
Akone smiled. "Actually, I'm not here for that. And no, computers aren't meant to fly starships, it seems."
"Mr. Akone is here to speak in your defense, Lieutenant." Jarelek added. "He asked Captain Williams for a brief stay here. And," Jarelek turned to Aldius, "You really cannot have any idea how atrocious Lambda's flying is. Really."
"You're defending me?" Salient asked Aldius. "Well, that's very decent of you. But really, there's no need – I don't particularly want you getting in trouble by affiliating with me."
"That's unusually selfless…" Jarelek noted.
"What am I saying!" Salient laughed. "By all means, get in there and say your piece. And Aldius," said the Entrolian, "Thanks."
Aldius carefully watched the Admiral during Jarelek's testimony. Though he himself was moved by the Vulcan's words, Taminaytd seemed completely untouched. Evidently the emotional appeal wasn't the route to take with this one. He mentally rearranged the notes he had memorized that morning and collected his thoughts. He had spent an hour the night before reading and memorizing a book on Starfleet legal proceedings and protocols, and felt fairly certain he would do well enough. Captain Williams spoke as Jarelek took his seat on the other side of Mr. Lyric.
"Next on the stand is Ensign Aldius Akone."
Aldius calmly approached the witness chair, then gave a sharp salute to the Admiral and the Captain, per said protocol book. Williams smiled and returned the salute, as did the Admiral. She seemed nicely surprised by the attention to detail as Ensign Akone took his seat. Following Jarelek's example, he touched the computerized sensor. The machine immediately cross referenced his genetic patterns with Starfleet records, then searched the archives for information on him. Since he was fairly new to Starfleet, it took approximately .0073 seconds longer than it did with the Lt. before announcing its findings.
"Beeeep. Identified… Aldius Kayoro Akone, Ensign, No permanent ship assignment found. Recent Academy graduate. No further data available."
Aldius hoped to have a longer resume in future years. Admiral Taminaytd was thoroughly unimpressed, but motioned for him to get on with it. He took a deep breath and looked the Admiral straight in the eye before he began:
"Admiral, Captain, as you just heard via the computer, my career with Starfleet has been short, to say the least. As of today I have a grand total of one mission under my belt - specifically, the recent fleet mission, which we all know ended in tragedy. However, it is my contention, Admiral, that the end of that mission would have been even more tragic had Lt. Salient Lyric not been involved."
Admiral Taminaytd couldn't resist interrupting. "More tragic than losing the fleet Admiral, Ensign Akone?"
Aldius was undaunted. "Admiral, I believe Starfleet ethics codes require that a witness be cross examined only after his initial testimony." The Admiral was again surprised, but relented. "Of course, you're correct Ensign. Continue."
"Officers, my contention is twofold. First, I argue that Lt. Lyric was absolutely not responsible for Admiral Errland's death. Second, I argue to the contrary - without Lt. Lyric, there would have been no possibility of rescuing Admiral Errland whatsoever."
Here he produced two PADDs and handed them to the Admiral and Captain.
"What you have before you now is the official mission log from the Enterprise, recently filed by acting fleet Admiral Telik himself. Please note the paragraphs I have highlighted for you. You'll see that, according to what little information we have from the Sweet Entrol, Emperor Dar Evil was determined beyond persuasion to board the Borg Diamond. I contend that his decision had nothing to do with Lt. Lyric's presence on board the vessel. While Mr. Lyric is, in fact, an Entrolian, it's also my understanding that his ties with the Entrolians and their leader were broken beyond repair. To Dar Evil, Salient Lyric was a Starfleet officer and the enemy, not a comrade to be rescued. Not to mention Dar Evil's tendency to annihilate rather than rescue those loyal to him. Admiral Errland had no choice but to accompany the Emperor per Starfleet protocol. To allow a questionable ally to board a decidedly enemy vessel with Starfleet ships in the minority of vessels in the combat zone was just to risky."
He gauged the reactions of those around him. Jarelek and Williams both seemed to be thinking he was doing well enough. Salient Lyric looked distracted, as if his mind were a million miles away. The admiral looked somewhat interested, but something told Aldius he'd better be wrapping his argument up soon and well.
"Before I conclude, also please note that at perhaps the most critical point in the mission, after Alpha Squadron had identified the Borg construction and raced back to the rendezvous point to notify Admiral Errland and Dar Evil of the danger, our ship was immediately disabled upon arrival. Believing we had been boarded and sabotaged, Admirals Telik and Shepard went for a sweep of the engineering deck, leaving Ensign Aldius Akone with the bridge."
He highlighted more notes on their PADDS with the controls on his own. "I can personally testify to our helplessness aboard the Enterprise. We had no power, no communication, no engines, no weapons, not even shields were functioning. The fleet's flagship was a sitting duck. It was brought to my attention through a sequence of events also noted in the log that we were under a powerful illusion set upon us by the newly assimilated Dar Evil. I, being the only one aware of our situation, attempted several means of breaking the illusion, but made no progress whatsoever. Every moment we sat there was another moment closer to destruction, but there was nothing we could do. In the end, it was the combined effort of Lieutenant's Jarelek and Lyric that freed us, and I dare say just in time for us, although moments to late for our beloved Admiral. Immediately upon regaining power, we gave chase to the Sweet Entrol, and although we failed, we were the only ship that even really had a chance of rescuing Errland. Moments later we received the news of his loss. However, as tragic as that was, the loss of the GCF's next two in command would have been devastating beyond repair. It was Lieutenant. Lyric's self-sacrificing courage that prevented that disaster. The GCF, it's Commanding Officers, and I all owe our lives to Mr. Lyric, and I hope you'll take that fact into consideration in your decision, Admiral Taminaytd. Thank you for your time and attention."
Rising to his feet, Ensign Akone snapped one more salute and returned to his seat, hoping for the best.
The Admiral steepled her fingers and pursed her lips, not that this was unusual. She always looked pinched. "Is there any other testimony to be heard?" The question was obviously directed at Roc, but her gaze was transfixed on the wall in the back of the room.
"None, Ma'am." A pleasant smile and soft tone of voice, added to the Admiral's displeasure.
"Very well. I hereby sentence Mr. Lyric to be reduced to the rank of Ensign and be placed on probation for one month. Captain Williams, if you want him you may keep him. This court is adjourned." The Admiral rose in a huff and exited the makeshift courtroom before anyone could rise in respect. Her escort was trying to catch up, but decided that his attempt was futile when she shouted at the transpad to take her to the transporter room.
The courtroom was overcome with a happy hum of conversation. Mr. Lyric, looking pale but relieved, was congratulated by dozens of crewmen and officers that he didn't even know. The Acheron had repelled her first hostile boarders.
"I'm happy with this outcome." Roc spoke and offered his hand to the Entrolian Scientist.
"Thank you, sir. I am too." The silence was awkward for a moment. "Captain, request permission to return to my duties as Chief Science Officer."
Roc hesitated. "Granted; however, come to my Ready Room in three hours."
"Aye sir." Lyric snapped a salute, pivoted, and exited.
"Mr. Akone," Roc spoke as he offered an outstretched hand. The shake was returned. "Thank you for your contribution."
"It was my pleasure, sir."
"Do you have a permanent posting, as of yet?"
"No sir, I do not." The anticipation was obvious.
"How would you feel about the Acheron?"
"I would like that, sir." A grin broke across the young Ensign's face.
"As fate would have it, Mr. Lyric's actions included the damaging of our ship's Avatar who had been acting Helmsman. I really depended on Lambda to deal with most of the ship-handling, and now..."
"You need a pilot!" Akone finished.
"Right. I will speak to Admiral Shepherd."
"You haven't seen Jarelek, have you?"
"No sir, I think he stepped out. He did mention something about a project that he was working on..."
Roc squinted. "Ah! Yes. I asked him and Commander Samms to collaborate on the repairs of our Avatar."
There's just something about shipboard camaraderie that you will never really understand until you are being congratulated for being demoted. As Admiral Connie Taminaytd passed, Salient captured the percussive, melodramatically distaining look she threw him, cherished it in his heart. When she left, he whooped and gave Kravic Non a hug.
Ensign Salient Lyric was just happy he was still here.
Because there was no better place in the universe.
A thought stopped him. He stepped around it. It caught his left earlobe and demanded his attention. Oh, right, a meeting with the captain in three hours. Maybe… or perhaps… but then, it could well be nothing. Salient wouldn't worry about it until it happens, for that is the quickest road to becoming a stay-at-home mom.
Remembering his Starfleet Non-Discrimination Contract, in which he had pledged to not discriminate based on race, gender (or lack thereof), religion, or stay-at-home-momhood, he quickly banished the thought and enjoyed the moment of victory/defeat. He made sure to thank Aldius Akone for what he'd done. For some reason, Jarelek seemed to be absent.
Elsewhere in the deepest bowels of the darkest deep places steeped deeply in deepening darknesses… of the Acheron's computer programming center…
A shadowy figure stepped into a room. Deep into the room. The other tilted his head in welcome. Void of emotion, the one spoke.
"Are you ready to begin… experimenting?"
"Oh, I'm so ready." Spoke the other, grinning.
"Is there a reason that the lights are at 12 normal?" asked Jarelek.
"Uh… melodrama?" Samms responded.
"Right. Let us get to work then." Jarelek and Samms leaned over a console, and began to program Her.
Elsewhere again in the Acheron. This time… not so deep.
One dart... two darts... three darts struck inside the red circle and hung there. Roc retrieved them, and returned to his place across the room.
One dart... two darts... door chime. "Right on time." Roc said to himself, and let the last dart fly.
"Enter." Roc responded to the second door chirp, but he did not leave his game of darts to face the door.
"Ensign Lyric, reporting as ordered, sir."
one dart... two darts... three darts, and again.
"Mr. Lyric, what are you loyal to?"
"Sir?" The Entrolian was confused.
"What are you loyal to? I am loyal to my High School, Pottersville Central. I am loyal to my friends, family... my ship."
"Um..." The uneasiness was obvious. "I guess...loyal to science." He swallowed hard. "Sir."
"Who do you trust?"
"I guess-"
Roc cut him off. "I trusted Admiral Errland. We were old shipmates. I trust Commander Samms. I trust Lieutenant Jarelek. I trusted Lambda."
"Lambda, sir?"
"Stay with me."
"Yes sir."
Captain Williams left his game and took three very direct steps toward the confused and uneasy Entrolian. "I give a lot of freedom to my crew, especially to my staff officers to do things in the manner that makes them most comfortable. I only ask two things in return, do you know what those things are?"
The silence provided answer enough for Roc.
"Loyalty and trust. Salient, I don't care if you like the Admiral or the GCF or Starfleet or the Federation or anything else for that matter. I care whether or not you are loyal to this ship and this crew and if you trust her Captain. What you did showed two things- that you were loyal to yourself first, and that you do not trust the people you serve with. That is not acceptable. If you are going to be a member of this crew you must be loyal to the ship first, above all else."
Salient felt sufficiently grilled, and he showed it on his face. He did not respond.
"Your presence here should tell you how much I believe in your abilities as a scientist and a Starfleet Officer. I want you to remain a part of the Acheron crew, but only if you are willing to adjust your own personal loyalties."
"Yes sir, I understand." Mr. Lyric skipped the pithy comeback and responded in great contrition.
"You make the decision. If you choose to stay, I will assume that the necessary adjustments have been made. If you choose to request a transfer, I will approve it. If you choose to stay, and we are required to have this conversation again..." Roc turned back to the dartboard. "Let's just say that Admiral Taminyatd will not be restrained."
Salient allowed himself a grin behind the Captain's back. "Aye sir."
"Mr. Lyric, you are dismissed. Please, add your input to the Avatar reprogramming project."
Thoughts danced to the steady rhythm of Salient's boots on the deck plate of the corridor. A stain of blood upon the theoretical tips of fingers. The hard but glorious lash of his own psi in a practice chamber. Step, step, step. Thought, thought, thought. Salient Lyric grinned as he remembered the day that his Tertiary Janitorial Minion discovered that Salient, the head Master Scientist, had put acidic stink bombs in the ventilation system by 'accident', so that all his minions could go home on holiday. He could have just ordered everyone home. But that would have been nice – and on Entrol, nice was deadly. Besides that, niceness just has no style. Salient's grin widened.
Step, step, step. What, What, What… the tendrils of scientific genius writhing into being under his command – his to turn, his to bleed. His scientists to mold, his minds to hold. They served him and they trusted him as little as he trusted his Emperor. Their care for him was in inverse proportion to his care for them. What, what, what… what are you loyal to, loyal to, loyal to, Entrolian? What are you, Entrolian? Too loyal, Entrolian? Step, step, step. Salient turned the corner, thoughtful, musing. He recalled standing on an abandoned mountaintop, the flora long since burned away, weaving the threads of thought that would conceal a small villa of refugee slaves from the Emperor's view. He could never call him Dar, as the Starfleet personnel did. Old habits die hard holding on. Mr. Lyric, what are you loyal to?
Step, step, step. Who, Who, Who… The blending of enervating strains of joyous harmonies from his Krap'ska. The capture of the torrents of a hailstorm in a rolling arpeggio of sound. The replacement of his lost Krap'ska with the Kithara of Earth. Step, step, step. Who. Who… Her. Her, shattering thought and mind with her mournful, soulful minor, performed at counterpoint to his chorded melody. Her breath blending with his in the lambent light of five crescent moons. Who… Who… Who do you trust, Salient? Step, step. Her death, a week later, by a single thought from an Arbiter of the Kneeling. Step, step. Trust, trust, trust… Who do you trust? Air and Darkness. His Kithara had never made it to the Acheron.
Loyalty and Trust. Crew, ship, captain. His captain, running out into the middle of a space battle with Borg in a shuttlecraft to save him. Jarelek, bracing him as he shattered the mental fog over the crew of the Enterprise, bracing him as he wept for Her, for himself, for the power. Himself. There were no tears in his eyes now. There was determination. An opening to new concepts about the people around him. And an undying flame of mischief.
It was the determination that steeled him, as he treaded this new, strange path of awareness of other's needs and hopes and dreams and loves. It was the mischief that energized him, as he aligned his own hopes with their own. The hopes flowed into a river, vast and free running, dark and cold and joyous in the hopelessness of space
Acheron.
The night was long, and the work was hard. Longer and harder than they would have been had Commander Samms not insisted on the dramatic darkness. Now in their twenty-seventh straight hour of work, Samms and Jarelek, who had been joined by Ensign Lyric almost eighteen hours ago, had begun their endeavor with a set of equations and probability statistics to help extract a personality profile from the dry mechanics of the Acheron for their new ship's avatar. Actually, Commander Samms just said:
"Computer, display girl."
And it did.
Indeed, it had been a long trek from that point to where
they had finally arrived. In fact, the avatar's appearance had been
programmed, and the initial personality had been set, and programmed
to be adaptive. This would truly be a unique form of life… if one
could indeed call it that.
Lambda had seemed alive enough.
Although only a computer simulation, he was in effect, the cumulative
experience of every crewmember on board, and of every mission log,
subspace scan, warp jump, resonator shot, and tachyon filtering grid
replacement the ship had ever experienced. Did that make him alive?
Was he more than the sum of his parts? Did he risk his life out of
the demand of his programming, or had it been something more?
Dedication? Loyalty?
Such were questions for a philosopher, not an engineer. And although Jarelek considered himself an expert at both professions, today he was feeling a bit more like an engineer.
Jarelek glanced down again at the console. The status bar was at 91... Character extraction was almost complete.
Often times, Jarelek had led the repair efforts on board the Acheron, and had even rebuilt a number of the onboard systems. He had dismantled and improved the tachyon-filtering grid on a religious basis, always ensuring optimum filtering capacity and effectiveness. After all, nothing was more cumbersome than a stray tachyon swimming around in a pool of raw quantum reality. But never in his lifetime had he helped to create a life. It was a distracting experience, to be sure.
The computer buzzed loudly. "Character extraction complete."
The three men snapped out of their lulled states of imaginings, and each stared at the console. Suddenly, the controls were replaced by a scrolling marquee of text.
"Hello boys…"
scrolled the console,
"It's me, Avi…"
Samms, Jarelek, and Salient all stared at each other with eyes as large as dinner plates. Then, all at once, they raced for the controls, all of them trying to type something in reply at once. The result was a chaotic display of bumping and shoving.
"I was here first!"
"I outrank you two!"
"Logic would suggest that I should be the one to make first contact."
"I want to say something!"
"Let me!"
"Get out of my way, that's an order!"
"Gentlemen, please step aside."
"Get outta here you pon-far crazed Vulcan!"
But then, another voice chimed in. A voice that was melodic, and soothing. "Boys," it said, "Don't fight over me."
Turning around, the three men beheld a gorgeous woman walking toward them. She was about 5' 7", and had inky black hair and a black, leathered Starfleet uniform that hugged her partically synthesized physique. Her amber eyes contrasted brightly with her otherwise dark appearance. Overall a very conducive specimen of electronic femininity.
The Avatar walked up close and shook her shiny, black hair out of her eyes. "I'm sure we'll all have plenty of time to get to know each other."
Ensign Salient Lyric's
Personal Log:
Entry 8293.00-2
Finally found Grekth in dress uniform lockers on E deck. After sponging his residue from the sleeves, was forced to find a way to transport him back to Labs Prime. I'll get Jarelek's wrought latinum incense bowl back to him tomorrow. Future Reference: Sonic cleanser corrodes latinum.
More serious note: learned some important things this mission. Thing One: I owe this crew a great deal. I should now be ship-less, pip-less, and homeless - perhaps even dead. Question: would I do for them what they did for me?
Thing Two: Do NOT kiss the Borg Queen.
Thing Three: Starfleet has given me a chance for a new life. Their methods are... redundant, at times. But they care for others before themselves. I.E. - Roc Williams. Tristan Errland. Aldius Akone.
Jarelek.
Arrived at Station Hecate this morning, soon after Avi came online. Will be here for repairs and refits for a short interval. Avi - the paragon of virtual virtue. We done good... Samms idea to switch gender programming was definitely right on. She's... wow. Upgraded her functional capability - she will be able to interact on a whole new level from what Lambda was able to do. The Avatar will learn and progress in personality as well as skill. Avi can switch at will between Medical, Operational, Science, Helms, Command, Tactical, or any other positional need that might arse. I mean - arise!
On that thought... time for bed.
End Log.
Post-Mission Analysis:
Roc's Notes: This mission saw the beginning of many things. Aldius Akone goes from here to become a mainstay aboard the Acheron; Grekth is created; Lyric's journey towards maturity begins; and my own aversion with the dartboard in my ready room begins to develop. It is in this mission that I really felt that the crew was coming together. We clicked more than ever in this story, and, while we would continue to improve and develop, this was the mission that really brought us into our own.