Chapter 5
Marius West was linked by a devious series of subspace beacons, into a little used Federation station mainframe, located several light years away from the secret Flying Dutchman Station. He was digging through historical records in excess of 700 years old. Lestan's name did become different, the farther back one traced his origins, but the trademark signature remained the same. An intensive computer analization had rendered his own observations correct. The signatures belonged to the same person. So, the commander realized he was dealing with a being of at least 700 years age. Now, he had to determine what type of being this was; and alien race or an immortal human. If
an immortal, then; how?
"Still continuing the research, Commander?" Ensign Todesku asked brightly, entering the small library cubicle that the elder man had ensconced himself in. He jumped halfway out of the chair, as the cheery little oriental woman spoke.
"Ensign, never sneak up on an old man like that!" he scolded quietly, half turning to glare, "You could've given me a heart attack."
"Sorry, Sir!" she squeaked.
"That's alright. Sit. I've found some rather interesting information on Captain Darkraven'." he replied.
The small woman sat beside the former Admiral, and looked with
interest at the screen. "Seventeen eighty-three?" she asked, reading the text.
"That's the first recorded signature I have which definitely relates to our Captain."
"But that would make him almost seven hundred years old!"
"There are many races in the galaxy which far outlive humanity," Marius said matter-of-factly.
"But they don't LOOK human!"
"The ones we know do not. However, we know that there are many things left out there for us yet to discover. It is quite conceivable that there is a race out there that is indistinguishable from us, that is practically immortal."
Kiko chewed on her lower lip.
"But... what if he's not an alien?"
Marius chuckled to himself, and leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his thick, white hair.
"Well, then that narrows down our choices considerably, doesn't it? If he's not an alien, then, what is he?"
"... There are legends. Stories about certain... beings." she said quietly.
"What? Demons? Warlocks? Vampires?" the old man grinned, "My dear, with the scientific advances of the day, and the length of time that has gone by, don't you think someone would have discovered the truth if these things existed?"
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Commander." the little woman whispered.
Marius shrugged.
"Perhaps. But I prefer to consider the most logical explanation first."
"Commander, at one time in human history, aliens weren't considered a logical explanation either."
Galen O'Mara watched, as the quiet Romulan directed the installation of the Forced Singularity core. Lieutenant Klellan worked quietly and calmly with the humans and other Federation aliens that labored in the somewhat cramped space in the Excelsior class ship's Engineering section. No one commented on the fact that their Vulcan' was actually a Federation enemy.
Klellan stepped back and watched as the crew finished the installation.
He turned and glanced at the Irishman.
"It is finished. We can begin powering up ship's systems within the hour."
"Simulations?"
"At your discretion of course, but unnecessary." the Romulan said calmly, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Confident in our self, are we?" the Irishman asked, a slow grin spreading over his face.
"Confidence in ourSELVES, Sir." the Romulan said, head inclining slightly, as he indicated the crewmen behind him.
O'Mara looked at the scruffy bunch standing around the compact core, high-fiving and clapping each other on the back. They were a rag-tag band, but they knew their business.
"Very well. I'll inform the Captain. Oh, and I'll be putting in for commendation for the Engineering crew. Lead of course, by Starfleet Lieutenant Klellan."
The Romulan looked slightly embarrassed.
"Ummmmmm, perhaps that would not be the best of ideas, Sir. I do not believe that Starfleet would be very happy about giving a commendation to a Romulan spy."
Galen took on a hardnosed air.
"Mister, as of when they let you out and transported you to this ship, to be a part of this crew, you became a Starfleet officer. Anyone who has the unmitigated gall to argue that point, will find a photon torpedo placed in their sleeping shorts."
The Engineering crew chortled heartily. They knew that their normally quiet and introspective Commander could become very awake and aware at the drop of a hat. Woe be to anyone who crossed him at the wrong moment. They were likely to find the replicator spitting out chocolate pudding at them.
"Do we have the power to bring the Bynar computer system on line?"
"Of course."
"Good. Let's begin." Galen said crisply.
Lia Stronn sat casually on the couch, slightly reclined, as she listened to Thomas Grave. The man was the strong silent type, bitter in the extreme against most forms of authority. That very bitterness, she deduced, was the exact reason why he had never risen above the rank of Ensign. That and his habit of leaving just enough clues behind, in his business dealings, to cast doubt on his general integrity.
"... so, I raised them all. A brother and three sisters. We never had much, but they never went to bed hungry and every one of them got an education. I made sure of it."
"And then, you entered Starfleet."
"Yeah. By that time, I had all of my uh... contacts and business associates established. A little disagreement with an Orion cartel, led me to seek refuge in the Fleet. I figured, they wouldn't dare try anything on a Starfleet officer."
Lia chuckled.
"The Orions have no problem with attacking a Starfleet battlecruiser, if they feel they can get away with it."
"So I found out. Then, since I was already here, and already committed, I figured the safest place for me to be, was in prison. I mean, it's like protective custody, right? SO, to get thrown good and deep into the klink, I deck a couple of officers in the Klingon Fleet. Bing! I'm in the brig, on my way to a maximum security prison."
"You certainly have interesting solutions to your perceived problems." the Deltan chuckled, shifting her position on the couch. She smiled inwardly, as the Ensign's eyes followed the ripple of her flesh.
Men were so transparent; whatever their race.
"Whatever works, I always say."
"May I get you a drink, Ensign Grave?" she stood, deliberately stretching, just to see the man's jaw go slack and his eyes stare hungrily.
"Uh... yeah. Scotch. Neat."
The bald headed woman smiled sweetly at him, and sashayed over to the
replicator for the requested drink. She also got herself a glass of white wine, which she swirled seductively and sipped, as she walked back to her seat. Seemingly making a last minute decision, she continued past where she had been sitting, and instead, sunk down beside the by now obviously excited human. Lia smiled at him , and handed him the drink. Thomas Grave slugged the drink back, barely tasting it. His eyes were lock irrevocably on the swell of Lia Stronn's perfect breasts. The Counselor leaned closer, allowing the Ensign an almost unobstructed view of her decolletage. She watched as Grave's color turned slightly pink.
"Ensign, you seem very tense. Is our discussion bothering you?"
"... No Ma'am." the distressed man rasped.
"Well, is there anything you want to say?"
"... I realize this is very unprofessional of me, Commander, but I'm having a wee bit of a problem with your proximity." he squeaked, turning to set his glass down, and attempting to regain something of his composure.
"Why?"
"Prior to being assigned to the Star Tiger, I haven't seen a woman in almost nine months. I haven't... engaged in any activity in over a year. Your... nearness is causing me some real control problems."
"Ensign, it's YOU who are considering it a problem," the counselor smiled. "I, however, consider it flattering. So, why don't we take care of this perceived problem?"
"Uuuuuuhhhhhhhh, beg pardon?"
The counselor leaned even closer, and gently brushed her lips against his.
"I mean, why don't we take care of this problem." she whispered against his mouth.
Grave's senses overloaded. His eyes rolled up. Slumping forward, he lay unconscious against the woman's ample chest. She sighed and shook her head.
George Kirk wandered the corridors of the Star Tiger, absorbing the atmosphere of the old ship. The Constitution Class had been near completion when he had disappeared. The Excelsior class vessels had been commissioned at the end of his son's career. At that time, the elder Kirk had been trapped aboard the alien station for over fifty years. He had watched his son's death on the Enterprise-B, and ceased to follow the affairs of the Federation for over forty more years. Though the technology was nothing new to him, he reveled nonetheless, in the feeling of starship deckplates beneath his feet. Ever so sensitive, since the transformation just a few hours before, he felt the slight quiver of the ship, as power coursed through her old veins. It was a sensation he had never noticed before, and one he did not know he would so much miss.
He smiled warmly at each person that passed him in the corridor. Each face he memorized, and each name and rank, he plucked from their minds. Lestan had taught him a little mental trick, to keep them from peering too deeply at him. The Captain said he himself had to use it just about constantly. Of course, at his age, George wasn't too surprised. Lestan purported to be somewhere around seven-hundred years old. The security officer shook his head. Two hundred years had seemed forever to him. He couldn't imagine seven. Of course, now he had time. He had all the time in the world. There was so much to do, and now, George Kirk had the time, and the means to do it.
He stopped in front of the door to the security office. He had not meant to come here, at least not consciously. He smiled to himself and chuckled. He walked forward and marveled as the doors open before him. Inside the office, a massive alien lizard sat ensconced behind a desk. He glanced up coldly as Kirk entered the room. Tzardoz stood when he recognized the Commander's pips on the unknown officer's collar.
"May I help you, Sir?"
"I hope so..." George looked hard at the alien for a rank ensign that he recognized, then finally resorted to picking it out of the lizard's brain, "Lieutenant. I'm a bit new around here as you might have guessed..."
"I was not made aware of any last minute transfers." the Gorn rumbled, looking more closely at the stranger.
"Well, I'm not a transfer. I was on board the Station, held in... suspended animation. Frankly, my general Starfleet knowledge is almost one hundred and forty years out of date. I was a security officer, and I'm most comfortable in that capacity. Might you have the time to give me some instruction on how things have changed?"
The Gorn was taken aback by the man's directness. And by the
strangeness of the tale he told. The security chief walked back around behind
his desk and sat down.
"Computer."
Working
"Background history on..." the Gorn looked questioningly at the human.
"Commander George Kirk."
The lizard's eyes opened wide.
Armin Sesok stared moodily at the PADD on his desk. There had been a handful of communications from the Star Tiger, and all appeared to have come from wildly varying places. Since it was impossible that the ancient ship had made it back and forth across the quadrant without being seen, the Admiral had to assume that Galen O'Mara had set up some sort of an untraceable relay. A detailed scan had begun, checking the call logs of every relay post in the system. A trace was going to take time, time that the old man knew he didn't have. But, it bought Lestan and his crew of degenerates that much more time to do whatever it was that they were doing. The door burst open and
Commander Barclay triumphantly entered the office.
"We got them. A fluke, really, but we traced an information request call from a backwater station in the Enebria system. Someone on board doesn't trust Captain Darkraven. They were download information on his family history."
"Whatever. Where are they?"
"Apparently, they're holed up in the Drakkar system. Rumor has had it that there's some sort of a smuggler's base out there, but we've never been able to confirm it. Now, I guess we can." the balding man grinned, handing his PADD to the Admiral. Sesok scrutinized it, then looked at his aide.
"Have you told anyone else about this, Reg?"
"No Sir. You're the first."
"Good. Bury it."
The Commander looked aghast.
"Excuse me, Sir?"
"Bury it. I need to send Lestan a message, with final details on the mission. He can do as he feels he must, from there."
"Sir, that's a direct breach of regulation."
"Who makes the regulations?"
"Uhhhhhhh, you, Sir..."
The older man smiled evilly.
"Right Reg. Bury it."
Kiko Todesku was on duty when the message from Admiral Sesok came in.
Normally, there was an operator that placed the call. This message was a direct communique from the Admiral himself. Placed by the admiral himself. Kiko scrambled to trace the Captain's whereabouts.
"Bridge to Darkraven." the little oriental woman spoke nervously. There was a pause, then a tired voice responded.
"Go ahead."
"Captain, this is Ensign Todesku. I have an incoming call, Priority One status directly from Admiral Sesok."
"Route it down to my room, Kiko." the man said, his slight French accent buzzing in her ear.
"Yes Sir." she performed the necessary patch and let the call go through.
Lestan sat up in bed and moved at prenatural-speed to his desk. He activated the viewer terminal, and looked into the cold brown eyes of the Admiral.
"What a pleasant surprise, Sir! Security must have been working
overtime to find our location."
"Just Commander Barclay. And it was blind luck we found you. Someone on the ship was researching your family background through a remote post. We caught the request and traced it back from there." the old man said dryly.
"I... see. So, to what do I owe the honor of this call?" Lestan was suddenly serious. If someone was questioning his history, he was going to have to put a stop to it.
"Your mission has been moved up. The operation takes place tomorrow. Gavrilov has requested another backup' ship. Nothing I could do. I'm in the hot seat since you walked off with the Star Tiger."
"Understood, Sir. We regret very much having to put you in this position, but I'm sure you were not in favor of whatever scheme that was being hatched involving this ship."
"Most assuredly not. Lestan, Marius West is one of my oldest and dearest friends. I am not in the habit of sentencing anyone to death, let alone one of my best friends."
Sesok snorted, looking offscreen. Lestan smiled and nodded.
"I thought as much, Sir. Now, since you've already bent the rules to a ridiculous degree, perhaps you might consider just breaking them altogether, and telling me what the hell is going on?"
Sesok sighed and looked down at his desk.
"Running the Illiad's ID beacon, you were supposed to approach Delibes, in the Berterent sector. The Card ships guarding the prison post there were to be draw off by your presence in the outer fringes of their sensor range. The REAL Illiad scoots in from the other side of the sector, hides in Delibes shadow and invades the base, rescues the prisoners and downloads their core before leaving. Meanwhile, the Star Tiger is pretty much cut to shreds, providing a very tasty diversion."
Lestan sat quietly for a moment.
"Someone is a very sick bastard, Sir."
"Yes, Lestan... sick, but practical. An outmoded ship, a crew of dregs,' all that needed to be said was that you were a bunch of escapees in the wrong place at the wrong time."
The Captain nodded thoughtfully.
"Unfortunately, they didn't count on our stubbornness."
"Your resourcefulness." the Admiral smiled.
"Indeed. Very well. We shall carry out our part of the plan."
"Lestan, you're not committing hari-cari."
"Not at all, Sir." the vampire smiled primly.
"So what do you plan?"
The ancient being chuckled.
"Now hear this, Now hear this! Red Alert! I repeat, RED ALERT! Everyone to their battlestations!" Marius West said calmly, but forcefully.
All across the ship, men and women poured out of their quarters, staggering
and struggling into their uniforms. Lestan Darkraven sat in the command chair on the bridge of the Star Tiger and waited patiently, as his crew fell out of the turbo-lift and onto
the flight deck. He glanced over his shoulder at them in amusement.
"Very good response time, my friends. Now, if you could just try to stay on your feet..."
The huge Gorn growled low, pulled himself from the bottom of the pile and strode to his station. The others followed suit. Kiko Todesku sat down gingerly and began docking release procedures.
"Ensign Grave."
"Yes Sir?"
"I'd like you to meet Commander Kirk. He's going to be watching over your shoulder to learn a few things. Please feel free to instruct him as we go." Lestan said.
"Call me George." the medium built man with the almost glowing amber eyes said, smiling.
"Yes Sir, George, Sir." Grave replied automatically, turning back to the Ops console.
Marius West looked with interest at their new arrival. Lestan had filled him in on the mental emanations coming from the station, being forced to awaken and track the suffering Starfleet officer. The wily old man was having none of it. He knew that if Lia Stronn hadn't picked up the mental emanations, then Lestan had to be a powerful telepath indeed. What else, he wasn't sure. But quite probably immortal.
"Disengage docking clamps and power couplings." Lestan intoned.
"Done, Captain." the little oriental woman called cheerily, from the NAV console. Ensign Grave grinned at the her exuberance. Normally, that would have been his job, but seeing him saddled with a student to instruct, she had automatically assumed some of the tasks which took away from his attention.
"Signal the station that we're pulling away."
The station already knows. Dalek said dryly, over the bridge communication system.
George Kirk looked up in surprise.
"Dalek!? What have you done?"
As I am no longer required on The Dutchman, I decided to transfer my cognitive functions into this vessel's crude computer system. It is very cramped in here.
"Oh good Lord. My ship's now cognizant?" Lestan murmured.
Indeed, Captain Darkraven. I hope it is no large inconvenience. As I watched over George Kirk for so many decades, I find I have built up quite an attachment to the old fool. I simply could not bear to see him run off and get himself killed after I had spent so much time and effort keeping him among the... living.
Lestan chanced a glance in George's direction and noticed the uncomfortable look on his face. Behind him, Marius was furiously working over a free terminal.
"Commander West, it is alright. Dalek is a benevolent program. There is no need for extensive security measures. Besides, by this time, I am quite sure the program is well seated in our computer core." the Captain said with a chargrinned look on his face.
Thank you, Captain. the ship's computer said gratefully, I shall attempt to be a productive member of your crew.
"Ah, yes. Now, where were we?" Lestan coughed, looking elsewhere to escape Marius' glare of disapproval.
Flying Dutchman Station notified of the departure of Federation vessel Star Tiger. Station acknowledges receipt of message. Proceed down corridor four-zero-one-nine to perimeter of station framework. Good luck in your travels. End message. Dalek said.
"Ensign Grave, at your discretion?" the captain sighed, putting a hand to his forehead. He knew now who the inquisitive member of his crew was. There were several. None of whom was very good at keeping their thoughts to themselves in stressful situations. Except for Lieutenant Selon. Being Vulcan, even a non-conformist one, had its advantages. Though she sat nearby, at the science station, nary a stray thought escaped her head to unnerve the Captain. However, the series of thoughts running through the aged Commander's brain, was dizzying, even for a mortal a fraction of his age. Lestan had no time to puzzle out what the man had discovered. Though at the first opportunity, he was sure he would find out.
"Ahead, one quarter impulse." the Ensign stated, running his fingers across the ancient ship's controls. Smoothly, without even a hint of motion, the Star Tiger slid forward, and began maneuvering among the free-flying girders and pylons, which made up the interior of the station. Like a giant swan, the Excelsior class ship weaved her way through the web, and out towards open space. The bridge crew cheered, when they finally cleared the station boundaries. Lestan smiled wanly.
"Let's contain our enthusiasm a bit, shall we? The mission itself is still ahead of us. Lestan to O'Mara." he sighed, taping his chair comm.
O'Mara here. came the voice from Engineering.
"Nothing fancy, Chief. Just a test of regular warp speed, if you please."
Of course, Captain. But we're ready down here whenever you are. the Irishman's voice betrayed his smile.
"Acknowledged. Darkraven out."Thomas Grave waited expectantly.
"Well," Lestan said, glancing around the bridge. "... You heard the man. Ahead, Warp Factor 8."
"Heading, Sir?" Kiko chirped.
"Delibes. The Berterent Sector."
Grave smiled, and waited for the woman to finish the heading. Then, his fingers danced again across his station.
"At your Command, Captain."
"... Go for it." Lestan smiled. it had been one of his favorite idioms from the twentieth century.
Captain Anton Gavrilov sat in the command chair of the USS Illiad, jaw set and squared, and gazed at the viewscreen. They had been unable to track the renegade Star Tiger. The chiseled, older man was not happy with his command staff. For him, there could be no such thing as failure. No obstacle was insurmountable, as long as the correct amount of effort was put into it. By his standards, his people had failed. Another ship had to be outfitted and used as decoy. It however, instead of being crewed by dregs, was being directed by a very unstable sub-space link. At best, they could come close to approximating the effect that the Star Tiger would have made. The Nebula
class vessel, Chakhan, was barely in working order, being able to make warp 2, with little defensive capability. But it was what they now had to go with, thanks to Lestan Darkraven's defection from the Fleet. When this was over, Gavrilov intended to make it his first priority, to bring the deserters to justice.
"Scanning?" he said, looking at helm control.
"All clear, Sir."
"Subspace link to the Chakhan?"
"Working."
"Activate beacon." Gavrilov tapped absently on the arm of his chair. The ensign at OPS quickly made the adjustments, and turned to the brooding officer.
"Done Sir. The Chakhan is now flying the Illiad's ID beacon."
"Good. Now, Send her on her way, and we'll be going on ours."
"Chakhan moving away at warp 1.5. Estimated time to Berterent sector, one hour, twenty minutes."
"I hope that tub holds together long enough to draw the Cards away. Otherwise, we're going to be in a world of hurt." the graying man muttered.
Klellan monitored the singularity coil closely, to see how it would react to its environs. It produced several times more power than its older variants, more than the standard Federation anti-matter core, and could in fact power an entire station. The Romulan wanted to be perfectly positive that its enormous energy output wouldn't shake the old ship to pieces. Carefully, he routed the power through system after system, checking to make sure everything was compatible and nothing would overload. A smile
creased his face, when the systems board lit up cleanly, with no problems.
"Commander O'Mara." he called, still checking off things on his PADD.
"Yes, Klellan?"
"We have achieved full systems compatibility. Sheilds are responding at two-hundred percent capacity. Phasers are responding at well over three hundred percent. Normal engine function is two hundred and fifty percent."
O'Mara moved to stand beside the Romulan, and glance over his
shoulder at the PADD.
"What about Trans-Warp?"
"We have so little data available, that I have not been able to devise a suitable algorithm to test the Drive's compatibility." the man sighed, appearing slightly frustrated.
"But everything else is a big GO, correct?"
"Yes, Commander."
"Then I'll worry about TransWarp if and when the time comes." O'Mara said, clapping the erstwhile spy on the back.
James Stettler lay on the floor of his cell, curled tight into a ball. The feeling had finally returned to his arms and legs, and he wished with all his might that it had not. He was sure both his shoulders were out of their sockets, and his hips might have been too, he wasn't positive. They had brought him down from his restraints, saying that he was to be allowed time to fully recover his strength, before the interrogations' were to be
continued. He didn't want to recover. He was afraid that his sanity was about to break. While the Starfleet officer was sure he had no useful information to impart to his captors, that wasn't really the point. He didn't want to be broken. He didn't want to be turned into a quivering shrieking, useless lump of meat before they allowed him to die. So, he was
willing his heart to stop. And failing miserably. The door to his cell swished open, and the under-tall base commander entered.
"Hello, James. Still alive and kicking, I see." the man chuckled, moving to sit on the side of the bed that James Stettler couldn't even rise up enough to get into.
"If I could raise my leg enough, I'd show you a kick." the human officer whispered, in a dry, raspy voice.
"Now, now. Temper, James. Ma'ros says you're very close to breaking. He should know, I trust the man's opinions. SO, I ask you again, will you tell us what you know of your own free will, or must I tear it from you?" Deh'man's voice turned into a low, ugly snarl at the end of the sentence. His eyes glistened expectantly, as he already knew the officer's response.
"Go to hell, you bastard." James whispered, closing his eyes. Stettler listened, eyes closed, as the Cardassian clucked like a mother hen.
"Very well, James. Have it your way then." Deh'man rose and walked languidly to the door of the cell. "You've been an interesting opponent, Captain, but invariably, you lose. Just as you all do." He turned and walked from the cell. On the floor, James Stettler curled tighter and tried not to cry.
"Captain Gavrilov, communications from Delibes indicate that the outpost there has picked up the approach of the Chakhan. Several vessels have been dispatched to intercept."
"Very good. Ahead, Warp nine." the graying lion said, clenching and unclenching his hands on the rests of his chair.
"Yes Sir." the helmsman said. The Galaxy class vessel leap forward, streaking towards the Berterent sector.
"Captain, long range sensors show that the Cardassian forces are moving to engage the Illiad." Grave said, spinning his seat about to look directly at the captain.
"Not the Illiad, Mr. Grave. Another ship, to be sure. Anton Gavrilov would no more go on a Suicide Run than I would." Lestan chuckled.
"How many ships still in orbit around Delibes?" Marius West asked, standing on the upper deck of the bridge.
"Our enhanced sensors indicate... two cruisers. Equivalent to our Galaxy class." the Ensign replied.
"Indeed." Lestan said, looking over to exchange a glance with his second in command. "I guess we should begin to ready ourselves for a little invasion. Mr. West, Ensign Grave, Lieutenants Tzardoz, and Selon, please report immediately to conference room one. Lia, you have the con." Marius said, rising from the command chair. The balding woman looked surprised for a moment, then moved to take the captain's position.
George Kirk moved to stand near the little group which was exiting
the bridge.
"Mind if I tag along?"
Lestan slapped his forehead.
"Mon Ami! Please forgive me. I had forgotten for the moment of your presence. Of course. I would welcome your help on this mission."
Kirk smiled.
"I was always pretty good at counter insurgency."
"Yeah, but what about when we're the insurgents?" Grave mumbled.
The commander's teeth glittered strangely in the turbolift light.
"Even better." he smiled.
"Klellan, what the hell is this!?" O'Mara bellowed, stumbling across a singularly strange looking piece of equipment, which was sitting entirely too near a power conduit for his liking.
"Ummmmm. That would be a cloaking device." the Romulan said, staring pointedly at his PADD.
"A CLOAKING DEVICE!?!? I didn't order any cloaking device!" the Commander roared, hands on hips.
"Well, it arrived with the singularity core, and Ensign Grave had tagged it for sale at the first available opportunity. I... liberated it from his possession and installed it here. I figured... as you humans say... it might come in handy?" the Romulan spy shrugged.
Galen O'Mara grinned and looked at the device.
"Damn skippy." he agreed, and clapped the man on the back. "I've got to go to a senior staff meeting. You hold things together here til I get back."
Klellan nodded. "As you will, Sir."
The Commander turned and strode out of Engineering. The Romulan turned and remarked to the crewman nearest him.
"I think for the first time, in a long time, our sleepy eyed commander has come fully awake."
"Ladies and gentlemen, here is the situation. The Illiad is closing on Delibes, intent on making the rescue of whatever Fleet personnel are still alive from the research vessel E.Boyer Wilson. I do not believe that their attempt will succeed. According to Admiral Sesok, they're using a Nebula class vessel, and a sub-space remote link to run her, as a decoy. That is the position we were supposed to fill."
"Bastards." Grave muttered.
"In the event that the Illiad is detained or delayed, I am proposing that we complete the original timetable and rescue the prisoners ourselves. To that end, I wish to assemble a small strike force to invade the station."
Lestan said, poking at the PADD on the table in front of him.
"I should like to volunteer, Captain." Tzardoz spoke up immediately.
"Good. I was going to appoint you co-leader of the team anyway."
"And who will be the other leader, Sir?"
The ancient vampire looked up from the small computer.
"Me, of course."
"Captain, I must protest..." Marius began.
"Commander, do not even consider trying that the Captain's place is on the ship' line with me. A. I do not believe in it, and B. You have far more command experience than even I do. So, you have the con. End of discussion on that front." Lestan said.
"Yes, Sir." the former Line Admiral said, clamming up.
"The rest of you will be split up between the two teams. One group will rescue whatever prisoners are left alive, and the other group will first download, and then corrupt the Cardassian bases' central computer core." the captain continued.
I believe I would be of some help in that regard, Captain. Dalek interrupted.The immortal being started, as did several other crewmen at the table.
"I DO hate it when you do that." Lestan sighed mildly.
Beg pardon, Sir. the computer entity said politely.
"Now, how do you see that you'd be able to help us from orbit?"
If someone hardwires a communicator and a tricorder into a terminal, I will be able to invade the base system. Lockout codes mean nothing to me. It is the nature of my being that I can go where I want, when I want, in cyberspace.
"Very good." Lestan nodded approvingly, "You're hired."
"I'd like to volunteer also, Captain." George said quietly.
"You're not officially crew, Commander. You do not have to feel obligated."
"Believe me, if I didn't want to help, I'd say to hell with you all, and be on my way. But, I'm here, and I'd like to contribute." George said, leaning forward and looking around the table.
"Welcome aboard the project, then." Lestan smiled at his progeny.
"Captain, Cardassian ships closing on the Chakhan." the ensign sitting at NAV called.
"Christ, that was quick." the man muttered to himself.
"We're getting a strange reading captain, almost as if..." the man stopped as the Illiad was shaken by an impact and heeled over to port.
"SHIELDS!" Gavrilov roared. "What the hell was that?!"
"A Cardassian battlecruiser and... a Romulan Warbird, decloaking off the starboard bow, sir." the ensign called.
"Sunovabitch. They knew. THEY KNEW." the older man snarled.
"We are being hailed, Captain. The Cardassian vessel is telling us to stand to and prepare for boarding."
"Well to hell with them. Lock photon torpedoes on their engineering section and fire."
"Torpedoes away sir."
They watched the viewscreen, as multiple strikes hit the Cardassian vessel.
"No damage, Captain, and their shields seem to be holding."
"Oh mother. Are we in for it now..." Gavrilov whispered.
"We are in geo-synchronus orbit around Delibes, Captain. I've inserted us so we're on the opposite side of the planet from the Cardassian ships stationed here." Grave said, rising from the Nav position, to allow a younger man to take his place.
"Excellent work. Well, let's get this show on the road, Shall we?" the blond man smiled, rising from the Captain's chair.
"Marius, you have the con."
The old man nodded curtly. Lestan could feel many emotions and thoughts through the mortal's brain. Distrust, because he was not sure who, and what Lestan was. Resentment, at being left behind. Bitterness because he realized his advanced age made him a physical liability on a covert mission such as this. Lestan knew that he could cure all of those problems in one fell swoop, But he would not. God knew, one fledgling per century was more than enough.
"Alright everyone, transporter room three." Lestan said crisply. The ancient being bounded from the deck and into the turbolift. His senior staff piled in around him.
"Good luck." Marius said finally.
"Thanks." Thomas Grave growled. "We're gonna need it."