Chapter II: Discoveries
Stardate 59344.7 27 September 2381, 04:59, bridge, USS Pioneer
There was very little left of what should have been a formidable outpost in Alpha Onias. Hulks of destroyed vessels, many of them top of the line Romulan warships, littered the area surrounding the lifeless R-827 starbase. There were faint emissions coming from the base, from a ship that appeared intact and docked to her. Nevala ordered a joint boarding operation, comprised of security and technicians from all three ships under her command. They would board and search the station, download its logs, then search for any survivors.
Nevala debated whether or not to lead the away team from her ship. On one hand, it could booster her command's confidence in her and prove the young Vulcan a capable leader. On the other, she could be killed and the entire mission scrapped. She weighed both choices with cold logic, and retrieved a phaser an EVA suit from the quartermaster.
Her away team was slightly surprised to see her. Commander Shenar tried to protest the Captain's involvement in the search.
"Ma'am, this mission represents a great risk to your safety. As per Starfleet regs, the first officer is to lead any away mission of such importance to prevent a loss that would cripple the ship's effectiveness," Shenar argued.
"I am aware of those regulations, Commander. However, sub-section B of those same regulations permit the Captain to lead the away team in an emergency situation or some other such crisis as he or she sees fit. I believe that current events fulfil those requirements."
Shenar narrowed his eyes. He knew of that particular section, but most captains he had served under had never chosen to invoke it. It was both worrisome and gratifying that this new one did.
"Very well, Captain," he said, stepping off the transporter platform.
Nevala took his place and sealed her helmet to her suit. Extra-Vehicular Activity suits were designed for use in vacuum, with a self-contained oxygen supply and magnetic boots for walking in zero-g.
The other members of her away team were Lt. Stasitsky, a computer technician, Ensign Vanderman from engineering, and three security officers. The security were armed with compression rifles while the rest of the away team had standard-issue type-II hand phasers on minimum kill setting. It was better safe than sorry in this situation.
Nevala closed her eyes as she felt the gentle ripple of the transporter taking her every molecule apart and whisking it to the hulk of the Romulan station. When the Vulcan Intelligence Officer re-opened her eyes, she had to turn on her suit's spot lamps to see.
"Main power's down, Captain," Vanderman observed from his tricorder. "Looks like the station's generators."
"Captain, this is Lt. Clay from the Trailblazer. We've transported over okay, and are proceeding to the port aft landing bay," one of the Trailblazer's crew said, checking in.
"Lt. Romenov from the Spirt of Mars. We're three decks above you, Capt. Nevala. Fanning out to look for survivors. Doesn't look likely, though ma'am."
Nevala wasn't with Lt. Romenov, but she knew where he was coming from. She looked around, spot lamps illuminating the corpses of dead Romulan soldiers. One, directly in front of her, had been decapitated by a closing bulkhead.
"Understood, Lieutenant. However, continue your search."
"Aye ma'am."
"Bridge is...this way," Vanderman said turning and facing an unlit corridor. Nevala and her team followed him. The security officers warily surveyed the surroundings, rifles wandering with their eyes.
They reached the end of the corridor, impeded by a powerless turbo lift. Crewman Capella, a security man, and Lt. Stasitsky pried the doors apart. In addition to being unpowered dead weight, the controls to operate the lift manually were blown out.
"Is there another way to the bridge?" Stasitsky asked.
Vanderman bit his lip and shook his head. "Nope. It's all blocked off by vaccuum and radiation. This is the only safe way up."
"Safe is a subjective term, I should think," Capella muttered, adjusting his rifle's sling.
"Then it would appear that we are going to have to climb," Nevala said, entering the turbo lift and removing the access hatch from the top. It was a tight squeeze, even without the bulky EVA suit. With it, the Vulcan barely managed to slide herself through the access way. Lt. Stasitsky, being a human female, was also slender enough to fit through the opening. The others looked on, frustrated.
"I think I have a solution, Captain," Stasitsky said. She had shoulder length blonde hair, but eliminated the dumb blonde stereotype day in and day out. "Since the power for this part of the station is out, there won't be any electromagnets to hold the turbolift in place if we disable the emergency brakes."
"A logical solution," Nevala said, bending to activate her boot magnets. Slowly, she and Stasitsky attached themselves to the wall and drew their phasers from their holsters.
"Based on my previous scans of Romulan metallurgy, I believe setting 9 would be most effective."
"Right," Stasitsky said, adjusting her phaser. She and Nevala took aim and fired. It took several seconds, but the high-powered energy beams burned through the locking mechanisms securing the turbolift. "Two down, six to go."
Eventually, the last break had been melted, and the turbolift car sank like a stone down its shaft. The rest of the away team clambered up to Nevala and Stasitsky with their mag-boots, albeit somewhat awkwardly.
"Romenov to Nevala," a voice choked over the mission's communications frequency. Romenov sounded extremely distressed.
"Nevala here, Lieutenant."
"Ma'am I...oh God. There's bodies ma'am. Dozens of them."
Nevala was confused for a moment. "That is obvious, Lt. Romenov. The station was under attack."
"No, you don't understand, Captain! They're piled up like firewood, and there's...there's blood everywhere!" There was a retching noise that Nevala took to be someone throwing up inside their suit.
"Lieutenant, listen to me," Nevala said slowly. We know there was a boarding party. We know they were and still are hostile."
"But, what kind of weapons do this? Even distruptors cauterize the wounds..."
27 September 2381, 05:22. On board Romulan Starbase R-827
"But, what kind of weapons do this? Even distruptors cauterize the wounds..." Lt. Walter Romenov wondered. He tried to pull his eyes from the disturbing sight but couldn't. The entire deck he and his team now stood on was drenched in the Romulans' green blood. Deep down, he knew he wanted to know what kind of being would slaughter people like this, not the actual weapon used.
Ensign Pritchett, the leader of the security detail for this mission, put his hands on Romenov's shoulders and shook him roughly.
"Get a grip, el-tee. Now's not the time for a weak-stomach. You too!" Pritchett near barked at Crewman Richards. The pale-faced medical technician was trying to clear vomit from the inside of his suit. "There now. You've got a grip? We have a job to do."
Romenov took a deep breath and nodded. He looked back at his tricorder in the futile hope that he would see the blip of a lifesign. No such luck.
The SAR team continued to spread out, taking branching corridors and Romenov found himself alone after a few minutes. The lieutenant tried to breathe evenly and stay calm, but he saw something lurking in every shadow. Romenov almost jumped out of his skin when his suit's communicator beeped. The tricorder he had been holding dropped the floor.
"Jesus. Go ahead," Romenov said.
"Sir, this is Crewman Stackhouse. I'm in some kind of observation booth overlooking the shuttlebay."
Romenov sighed, perhaps a little dramatically, but Stackhouse's sighting of Lt. Clay's assigned area was nothing of importance. "Crewman, I don't care if you see Clay's team slacking off. We're looking for survivors."
"Well that's just it, el-tee. The bay is deserted. There's a Federation shuttle in here, though. I don't think the boarding party has left yet."
"Feder..? Crewman, can you see the registry number on the shuttle?!?"
"Yes, sir. Let's see, its, ah, NCC-7416–Hrk!"
"Crewman! What's the last digit? Stackhouse?"
There was no reply from the other end of line. Romenov stooped to pick up his tricorder and readjusted it so it read only human lifesigns. To his relief, the overlay of the shuttlebay showed one dot in the observation booth. However, Stackhouse had been correct when he said that no one else had been with him. In fact, Romenov wasn't picking up the Trailblazer team anywhere around him.
"NCC-7416," Romenov repeated. The USS Remembrance had been NCC-74168, and he didn't know of any UFP ships operating in the area. But even if Lt. Cmdr. Kale hadn't destroyed all the vessels he had, he would have had only two Prometheus-class ships, a Nebula, and three Intrepids. Formidable, sure, but not enough to take on a dozen warbirds and a plethora of smaller ships. So confusing.
"Aghh–!"
Romenov's hand immediately went to his phaser, doing his best to keep his eyes on the area ahead of him while he checked the tricorder. One life sign advancing towards him from the observation booth, probably Stackhouse, and one where Richards should be, and one where Pritchett should be, and three where Crewman Reynolds should be.
"Three?" Romenov whispered. His eyes widened and Romenov opened on all channels. "Everybody, rally back at the transporter point! We are not alone, repeat NOT alone!"
Even as he said this, the dot representing Reynolds winked out, and the two unknowns began to move back the way Reynolds had come from. Back towards him.
"Lt.? What the hell?!?" Pritchett asked.
"Ensign, that is an order! Reynolds is dead, and so is Stackhouse!" Romenov replied as he sprinted towards the TP. The Federation officer paused only to check his tricorder for movement. He stopped. Ensign Prichett's dot had disappeared, while the unknowns quickly moved to trap Romenov. He was surrounded.
One of the unknowns revealed itself briefly, stepping out from where Pritchett had gone. The figure was bulky, wearing some kind of armored EVA suit. A long, boxy attachment jutted out from under its forearm. The armor-clad being raised the device just as Romenov snapped his phaser up and fired.
The beam should have been lethal to a carbon-based lifeform, even in a armored vacuum suit. However the energy washed over the figure without effect. Romenov could only wonder what the armor was made out of as hundreds of steel needles punched through his cut and sawed Romenov in half.
05:41, Romulan base R-827
"Jeez, what a mess. What'd they do, knock the place over?" Capella remarked as he climbed up from the turbolift shaft.
The bridge was indeed in shambles. Loose wiring formed near impenetrable webs of modern engineering, and there was scoring from exploding circuits. Also, oddly enough, several complete consoles and other equipment appeared to have been removed, hence Capella's comment. Stasitsky and Vanderman took stations at two semi-functioning computer terminals.
"I don't think we'll get much out of this, Captain," Stasitsky warned. "It's pretty banged up."
"Ma'am, got a fragment of a visual log before the recorders went offline," Vanderman announced.
"Onscreen," she ordered.
The Romulan viewscreen crackled to life. The images were hazy, but Nevala saw a very non-Romulan ship being attacked by two Shrike light cruisers. As the camera zoomed in, the ship clarified into an Akira. The ship didn't seem to be firing any weapons, although the Shrikes' shields were flaring and the ships were reporting that they were rapidly degrading. The lead Shrike's shields dropped, and two photon torpedoes streaked from the Akria and obliterated it. It's sister followed shortly after.
"The Federation ship must be equipped with a Breen ED device. All ships, engage with torpedoes from maximum range," the base commander ordered.
Unfortunately for the Romulans, a plasma torpedoe's energy field destabilized after only a few light-minutes, and the Akira merely sat outside the effective range of the torps, using her strange weapon and finishing the shield-less ships off with her own missiles. Once the defenses had been considerably thinned, the ship began to swoop in, blasting the defenders apart with ease. The clip ended with the Akria almost dead center on the screen, two photon torpedoes coming at the screen like the eyes of some evil wraith.
"Lieutenant, could you please rewind the video minus four seconds?" Nevala asked, studying the ship intently. If she looked close enough, the captain could just make out the name and registry of the ship. "Good. Clarify the image."
Stasitsky hesitantly tapped a few commands into the Romulan-analog LCARS. The image was pixilated for a few seconds, then reformed into a much sharper view of the CTD Maverick (NCC-74168).
"CTD?" Vanderman asked, scratching his head. "What's that mean?"
"I am not familiar with that designator, Ensign. I will check with records when we return, however. Download everything you can and return to the beam in point."
"Captain," Crewman Walker said, leaning over the open turbolift shaft. "There's somebody down by the lift. It doesn't look like—"
Walker was cut off as something shattered his helmet's faceplate. He fell back, blood bubbling out of the hole. Capella pulled him back, then joined the remaining security crewman Hawkings in filling the interior of the shaft with phaser blasts.
Capella ducked back apparently just in time. There was a flurry sparks as Walker's murderer steadily hosed the opening.
"He appears to have mag boots, Captain," Capella said, risking a peek in the shaft. "Everyone, quick! We need to form a barricade. Whatever this raider is, he's wearing some serious armor. Dial your phasers up as high as they'll go. Vaporizing him is our only option."
"Belay that," Nevala said. The away team had already piled several pieces of bulkhead, deck, and other parts of the station together, forming a hasty breastwork.
"But, ma'am! I saw that guy take several direct hits without flinching. And that big weapon of his throws out a lot of whatever that thing is loaded with."
"Precisely, Crewman," Nevala said as she crouched behind the barricade. We will need an intact specimen to tell us who and what exactly we are dealing with."
"Here he comes," Hawkings warned.
"Change your rifles to 'beam'. Setting ten. All armor is weakest at the joints, I suggest firing at it's solar plexus."
Even as the Vulcan said this, the huge figure clambered out of the hole into the staggering combined fire of two compression rifles and three phasers. Despite this, the armored man struggled to bring his weapon to bear. He loosed a torrent of projectiles that literally blew Ensign Vanderman's torso apart and ripped Hawking's right arm off at the shoulder. He clutched the leaking hole in his suit, screaming.
The Federation team's fire was not ineffective, though. Only delayed. The armor at the creature's mid-section was indeed weaker than the rest of the suit. He jerked as the powerful streams of energy pierced it and killed him. Instead of collapsing, the sheer bulk of the armor and the magnetic grip of his boots held him upright.
"He's as big as an Orion on steroids," Capella said as Stasitsky bandaged Hawkings. He poked the juggernaut with his rifle. "Yep. I don't think he's walking away from this one."
"I believe he is a member of Kale's crew," Nevala said as she also moved closer to get a better look at the what she was beginning to think of as the Juggernaut. The armored vacuum suit he wore was dull grey, complete with a face-obscuring helmet. A long monocular extended from where his right eye would have been, reminiscent of the Borg. The left breast had a human fist wielding a dagger, with a star filled background, all contained in an upside-down triangle. Under this, 'CMC' was stamped in blocky lettering. Most curious was an inscription on the Juggernaut's helmet: "The difference between me and you is that at the end of the battle, I'll still be alive."
"Captain, I have everything I'm going to get from this station's computer. I suggest that we leave immediately," Stasitsky said, holding up a PADD. Nevala triggered her comm-badge.
"Nevala to transporter room. Lock onto our position and beam back away team plus one."
"Plus one, ma'am?"
"Correct. There is a possible lead regarding our mission, and I need him aboard for information. Beam our guest, Crewmen Hawkings and Vanderman directly to Sickbay."
"Aye, ma'am. We sure are glad you're still alive. The bodies of the other two away teams were beamed back to their ships a few minutes ago. Okay, transporting now."
Two blue beams seemed to spill from nowhere, enveloping the two crewmen and transporting their atoms to the Pioneer. There was a somber silence as the three survivors waited for their turn.
"Ready to transport team," The transporter room announced. Nevala felt the 'tingle' sensation as the transporter chief found her and teleported them back to the ship. As soon as she felt solid polymer under her feet, Nevala ordered Stasitsky to throughly analyze the data they had recovered. Then she headed for Sickbay.
Dr. Connors was wiping his face with a rag when Nevala stepped through Sickbay's sliding doors. He turned to her, pale faced.
"Captain, I don't know what to make of this...this...well it used to be a man."
"Explain."
"He's human," Connors said. "That's what my scans say. I can't be certain until I remove him from the armor, but our friend appears to be 2.1 meters 6 foot 9, roughly tall, 230 pounds, and from the condensed muscle tissue, raised or spending a lot of time in high gravity . Physically, he's probably twice as strong as a Klingon. Height is unnatural, done through post-pubescent augmentation."
"The armor appears to be composed of cortenide and laminated with tritanium. That's probably why your weapons had such a hard time penetrating it. It weighs an additional 136 pounds, and from what I can see, it's NOT powered in any way. To tell you anything more, I'm going to need to cut this guy out. Probably go through three blades with a sonic saw just to do that," Connors finished, hands on his hips.
"Inform me when you have finished removing him. Doctor, is it alright if I remove this weapon from his arm? I would like to take it down to the Armory and have them examine it."
"Be careful, it's quite heavy."
The Juggernaut's weapon was bound to his right gauntlet by two adjustable metal loops. Two buttons in-between them seemed to control the tightening and loosening. Nevala tried left button first, and pleasantly enough the armbands widened, allowing her to slip it off. Connors was right about the weight. Even with her superior Vulcan strength, Nevala had a hard time lifting it. As she hefted it to the turbolift, passing crew stared bug-eyed at the lethal device.
Lt. Evens, the tactical officer, and an armory crewman were the only ones on duty when Nevala dropped the Juggernaut's weapon on a workbench. Both of them looked at it for several seconds, then directed their stares towards their Captain.
"This was taken from the body of the unknown ships boarding party. It doesn't appear to be a disruptor or a phaser, or any other kind of energy weapon."
Evens examined it. He found a control on the top that detached most of the body of the weapon. Evens revealed it to be an ammunition drum. He pulled a wicked looking metal spike from the drum and whistled.
"No casing. Heavy stuff. I'll contact you when I know more, Captain." Just then, the bridge signaled her over her comm-badge.
"Captain, before the Romulans were killed, I believe they sent out a distress signal."
"That is highly probable, Commander Shenar. They were being butchered."
"Well, Captain. The Romulans got it. Four Valdore-class warbirds just de-cloaked to our aft. They are demanding that we surrender."