I apologize for being so late in posting my story. I had to be out of the country to deal with a family death. I'm making up for it with this chapter.
AlbertG: I have similar problems with separating section of my story. I've tried to amend that with asterisks, but the program somehow doesn't accept that. So for now, the asterisks are "VVVVV".
Janusi: Oh the Borg are in the right galaxy...you'll see.
Bolo and The Sithspawn: RAFO (Read And Find Out)
Thanks for urging me to continue writing this story.
It would also help when you give me critique/constructive criticism, so flame away!
"How many valiant men, how many fair ladies,
breakfast with their kinfolk and the same night
supped with their ancestors in the next world!"
—The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio,
Writer, and Ambassador for the Republic of Florence,
circa 1349-1351, Earth
A Black King gripped in Vulcan fingers moved to the king's attack board B-1.
Spock looked at his friend through the structure of the tridimensional chess board. He had long ago shut out the noises of the Recreation Deck. It would seem that his friend's mind was not entirely on the chess game. He could easily guess what was distracting him.
"Jim, I am confident that we will save the Markab."
Kirk looked up from his chess pieces. He shouldn't be surprised that his best friend knew exactly what was bothering him. He smiled weakly.
"I know, Spock. What I'm worried about is the Markab theocratic government. Will they be receptive? They've certainly didn't prove receptive to the dangers of the neurovirus killing their people."
Spock tilted his head in agreement. "Logic will force them to open their eyes to the neurovirus." He added upon seeing Kirk's look of skepticism, "Granted that religious fanaticism has defied logic for centuries." Spock turned his head to look at a female ensign acting as waitress in the Recreation Deck. Upon catching her eyes, he asked for a glass of water.
Kirk sighed. "Earth has far too much experience with religion as part of the political process. It has been a dangerous combination for us. Combine religion with politics and treason becomes heresy and vice versa. In spite of the best intentions of priests and politicians, such a combination inevitably becomes repressive for the society governed."
Kirk distractedly moved a White Bishop to attack Spock's surviving Tower. He continued speaking. "But what I don't understand is religious fanaticism's tendency to allow plagues to take their courses. Surely, it is in the interests of a powerful religious institution to find measures against plagues. People would then follow the institution more faithfully than before. Still, it's best when people help themselves instead of waiting for a god to take care of everything."
The serving ensign brought a glass of cold water to Spock who then drank from it. The pretty female ensign also brought a glass of frozen mudslide. "Captain, compliments of the galley." She smiled brightly, standing close to Kirk. Kirk, barely hiding an expression of annoyance, thanked her. "Is there anything else, Captain Kirk?" The ensign's friendliness and physical closeness irritated the captain. Maybe he shouldn't have played chess in the Recreation Deck. However, he needed to show that he was not aloof from the ship's crew. Seeing their captain among them would comfort their loneliness in this universe. The ensign was making cow eyes at Kirk. His irritation flared. "Will you stop hovering over me, ensign?"
The pretty ensign was taken aback. She made a short curtsy and hurried off to serve other customers.
Seeing sympathetic amusement in Spock's eyes, Kirk growled, "When we get back to our universe, I will have a discussion with the Commandant of Starfleet Academy about graduating such easily impressed female ensigns."
"Jim, do you not trust yourself around such ensigns?" Spock deadpanned. He was teasing Kirk to cheer him up. His Black King struck down Kirk's White Bishop.
Kirk smiled grimly. What did Spock call him before the V'ger incident? 'T'hy'la.' In the Vulcan language, it meant 'friend/brother/lover.' English has no equivalent of that word. He softened his face towards Spock. "I already have a female to worry about...the Enterprise."
Spock's arched eyebrow had an air of amused irony.
"Anyway," Kirk said, pulling the conversation back on the Markab problem, "theocracies have a tendency to find scapegoats for their problems. In the Black Death on Earth, Europeans blamed the Jews for the plague and murdered many of them. I hope we won't find the Markab theocracy to be that foolish. At least the people weren't so foolish as to spread a dangerous plague on purpose."
Spock drank from the glass of water once more before replying to Kirk. "On the contrary, cats, the only effective deterrent other than fire against rats which carried the plague, were murdered for being agents of evil, allowing rats to proliferate. Some of the people were just as guilty of spreading the plague. Flagellants, religious people who whip themselves in repentance for sins, traveled from town to town, showing their faith in forgiveness from divine punishment in the form of the Black Death, unwittingly helping to spread the plague further and faster. Furthermore..."
Kirk threw up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right, Spock, so we were as bad as or worse than the Markab. I'm sure that Vulcans never had to deal with theocracies." His White Pawn reached the end of the Black board and was replaced with a White Queen.
Spock arched an eyebrow. "Vulcan had its share of religious fanaticism. Two centuries before the Birth of Surak, the T'Kalasa Empire, an efficient regime not unlike the Nazi regime, sought to save itself from collapse by conquering the theocratic T'Krisei Protectorate. The conquest only served to spread fanaticism among the T'Kalasans who then used T'Krisei warrior monks to harass the failing Sre'Teru Praetorate. Fortunately, by the Birth of Surak, the T'Kalasa Empire had collapsed from overpopulation, contributing to the end of Vulcan's First Age of Expansion. Surakism, while more philosophy than religion, not too unlike Earth's Confucianism, had its own fanatics as well. Vulcan had a civil war over the teachings of Surak shortly before the Earth-Romulan War." He drank from the glass of water again.
Kirk was surprised. He had thought that once Surakism took hold, Vulcan was always a peaceful and harmonious world. "I didn't know that. Was that why the Vulcan military did not help Earth against the Romulans?"
Nodding once, shame tinged Spock's voice. Only with Kirk would he relax his tight Vulcan emotional control. "It was not something we discuss with non-Vulcans. My people had...strayed from the teachings of Surak. 22nd century Vulcans were not so different from Romulans. They were not pacifistic in spite of claims to the contrary; they lied and did not tolerate differences from what the old Vulcan High Command dictated. It took..." Spock frowned subtly. Kirk remained silent, knowing how difficult it is to admit the failings of one's own people, especially when he's really proud of that people. "...a man claiming to be the reincarnation of Surak to bring us back to the original teachings."
It was too difficult to imagine Spock's people gathering armies and facing each other in hostility over the Forge of Vulcan. It was just as difficult to imagine a Vulcan man being insane enough to claim to be his people's revered messiah, unless he somehow took Surak's katra into himself. Which is insane in itself. Kirk wanted to reach out to touch Spock in comfort, but seeing emotions roiling in Spock's eyes, physical contact may be too much for the Vulcan.
The chess game forgotten, Spock said, "Excuse me, Jim. I must meditate." Kirk nodded in understanding. Spock stood up.
Incomprehensibly, Spock swayed on his feet as if he was drunk. Dizziness from standing up too fast? No, that's mainly a human thing. But then Spock was half human.
"Jim..." Spock said weakly. Alarmed, Kirk watched Spock sway once more before collapsing, knocking the table over, scattering the chess pieces and spilling the water and frozen mudslide. With the entire Recreation Deck staring in shock, Kirk rushed to his friend's side, screaming for medical attention.
VVVVVV
"You told me diseases didn't cross species!"
McCoy's eyes were tight in worry and irritation. "Jim, I also said that they could as long as physiologies are similar enough." He glanced as Spock lying on a biobed in Sickbay. The search for a cure for the Drafa neurovirus was now that much more urgent. Oh, he always sees each patient as urgent and important, but Spock was a personal friend, absolutely irreplaceable, dammit!
"Vulcans have specialized cells to carry neural signals in addition to the normal nerves. It's part of what make Vulcan brains so efficient. Unlike the Markab, it's not the only way his brain could send signals. The neurovirus shouldn't have affected him, but it apparently mutated." McCoy stood staring at Kirk, feeling guilty. He knew he shouldn't feel guilty about the actions of a disease, but he should have remembered the Vulcan neural physiology and be aware of the possibility of mutation. Kirk was looking drawn. They were all getting old so personal disasters like this was that much more stressful.
"Jim, let me give you a sedative. Spock is stabilized now. Go to your quarters and rest. We will wake you for any news of Spock's condition and for our arrival at the Markab homeworld."
"No! I must be awake. Something might happen that needs my immediate attention. Last time I slept when I should be awake and alert, we got ourselves an enemy!"
McCoy sighed. Kirk was referring to the battle with the two Centauri warships. "All the more reason to rest up. You will then be very alert for anything, believe me."
Kirk turned to look at Spock helplessly. Spock was breathing hard, but steady. McCoy knew how important Spock was to Kirk. He had long ago accepted that, abandoning any resemblance of jealousy. McCoy remembered when he was dying of a disease, Kirk was sadly resigned to it until the Fabrini, with the help of beautiful Natira, cured him; however, Kirk threw a fit whenever Spock threatened to die. Kirk certainly wasn't as irrational when his brother and sister-in-law died in the neural parasite attack on Deneva Colony.
"Jim, go to your room. You don't want me to pull doctor's prerogative on you." That was a dangerous gamble, McCoy knew. There was no Starfleet Command to turn to. If Jim decided to butt heads with McCoy, it would be damaging to the starship command structure. He has read the ancient Earth novel Lord of the Flies before. It was unusually accurate in showing what would happen when people maintain command structures in the absence of a larger society. Starfleet has procedures about this kind of thing, but it was for when a ship's crew is stranded on a planet or is out of range of subspace communications. Always, it was with the assumption that the crew could somehow return to the Federation and face Starfleet Command's review. That wasn't possible as long as they were stuck in this universe.
James Kirk stared tightly at Dr. McCoy. "All right, Bones," he finally said resignedly. He took a hypospray injection of sedatives before leaving Sickbay. McCoy grunted in approval and returned to the task of curing the Markab, and now Spock, of the Drafa neurovirus.
In Hyperspace
T'Sara arranged her robes once more before seating herself in Hakudo Maru's command chair. She had chosen the officious Vulcan robes for today. Even though she wasn't going to meet T'Pau or Ambassador Sarek, it was important to establish good relations with the Earth of this quantum reality in spite of the Earthers' offensive prejudice against mentalics. The main viewscreen showed the roiling red hell of hyperspace and the rear end of the Earth cruiser Brittany. The people on the ship have gotten a little used to the sickening view of hyperspace, but the ship's windows were all still darkened or closed.
"How long?"
T'Sara had to suppress the emotion of irritation. The ship lurched gently in hyperspace's gravity currents, as if it was reflecting her own feelings. Dr. John Howard could be really irksome at times. Even if he was one of the most preeminent historians and archaeologists, she would recommend the Federation Archaeology Council to post him on Vulcan. It would give her people a chance practice emotional control and also teach Dr. Howard the virtues of humility and patience.
"We still have 13 minutes and 27 seconds before entering normal space, Doctor." T'Sara answered. She wiped nonexistent dust from a voluminous sleeve. She is the Director and the self-appointed Sub-commander of the Hakudo Maru. Dismissing the human, she turned her attention to the computer console set up in front of her. She could hear the annoyed sharp hiss escaping Howard's lips.
"Why?"
T'Sara looked up from the computer console, face impassive. "Excuse me?"
John Howard narrowed his eyes at T'Sara. "You persuaded the Federation Archaeology Council to choose the Titan System for the cultural exchange program between the Federation and Betazed. We had plenty of worlds to choose from, not least the ruins on Tagus III, Kurl, Zeta Tucanae III, the Debrune worlds, and other such worlds that we already know to be safe. Titan V was an unknown, never investigated since Starfleet's charting survey through the sector. So, Director T'Sara...why Titan V?"
A legitimate question, T'Sara had to admit. But it was a question that did not require the answer that came up in her mind.
T'Sara was at her family estate on Vulcan studying the documents she had ordered brought from the Archives. She was looking for clues and facts about the Ko N'ya. The Devil's Heart. An object of legend on Vulcan as well as other worlds. Worlds that believe in magic believe it to be Darkness' mightiest talisman, while worlds of science think it was a lost artifact of an ancient and forgotten race. A fragment of a fragment hinted at Surak in connection with the Ko N'ya, something about 'the blood never stops flowing.' Andoria has stories of it, calling it Telev's Bane. What she wouldn't give to lay her hands on the Devil's Heart.
"Hello, T'Sara."
The voice, definitely not Vulcan, startled her. Had she missed the commscreen trilling for her attention? It wouldn't be the first time with her nose buried in ancient books and scrolls. But to open frequencies without her permission is extremely rude.
She turned around. It was a man standing in the middle of her room. Surprised, she stood up, intending to call security. Except...T'Sara tilted her head, doubting her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was a man. It was more like a grey shadow, giving the barest of hints at the figure's features. The humanoid figure looked like it was a hologram. Vulcan has much better holotechnology than this.
"Who are you?"
The figure chuckled. "A dangerous question. If I answer it, it might change certain events."
T'Sara frowned. A most illogical answer.
"Do not worry about my identity. What matters is the Devil's Heart."
T'Sara perked up at that. She nodded for him to continue. She wondered if the hologram could see her.
Amazingly, it could. "While I cannot tell you its exact location, I can point you the way. Right about now, the Federation Council should be approving a program of cultural exchanges through archaeology. You should join that program. You are already prestigious enough for the Archaeology Council to listen to you."
T'Sara was still uneasy about the strangeness of this. "How does this benefit you?"
"Ah, the famous sharp mind of T'Sara of Vulcan," the figure said. "The Federation deserves some improvement to itself for the tasks it has ahead of itself."
The person, T'Sara still couldn't pinpoint the gender if it has one, kept hinting at an ability to travel through time. "Are you from the future?"
Laughter rang out. "I shouldn't have judged your mind through historical accounts." The figure seemed to be staring, considering T'Sara. "I failed before. Perhaps I would do better now. My associates and I have a...form of cold war across temporal fronts. The Ko N'ya would help the Federation very much, especially Vulcan. Only a logical Vulcan could control the Devil's Heart and remain the same. Someone like the great T'Sara."
To touch the Devil's Heart...how far would she go for it? Perhaps...rent out her katra for a while? That was uncomfortably close to the truth. She nodded in agreement.
"Then go to Titan V. There, you will find artifacts pointing the way to the Heart of Darkness."
Dr. John Howard was still waiting for an answer. The unconventional answer of having a hunch that she gave to colleagues would not do for relentless Dr. Howard. T'Sara merely said, "It was suggested by one knowledgeable about such worlds." Perhaps it had been a mistake to trust the mysterious person. 'He' must have calculated to remove T'Sara from the Federation's timeline. She wondered if this...temporal cold war extended into this quantum reality.
"Coming out of hyperspace," said the helmsman. T'Sara could see a vortex ripping a hole in the barrier between hyperspace and normal space. As yet, she could not see normal space through the vortex. The Brittany elongated and vanished into the vortex. T'Sara soon felt her universe stretch and felt herself pushed into her seat as the red Vulcan-built ship rushed out of the red hell into normal space.
Enterprise-A
A planet expanded slowly in the main viewscreen. It reminded Kirk of a darker Mars or Vulcan. What he could see through serenely moving clouds, it was dry and rough with small seas here and there, some green in several places. Other than that, he couldn't see much. Smoke and dust clouds roiled. Many of the Markab cities were burning. They wouldn't know more till they got closer. The Enterprise was still hours from Markab.
"Any ship in the system?"
"Yes, Keptin," Chekov answered. He looked a little unsettled. "But...almost all are adrift. As far as the sensors could tell, their crews are dead or dying." A beep sounded from the sensors. "Keptin, a ship's moving. Not to us."
"Onscreen. Uhura, hail them."
The main viewscreen magnified to show a Markab warship. Its dull golden brown hull was highlighted by the Markab sun. The shine on the triple hull glowed brighter. Horrified, the bridge crew realized that the ship was making for the sun. Uhura shook her head. "No response."
Kirk gaped aghast. It reminded him all too vividly of the disaster at Deneva when a Denevan ship plunged itself into the Denevan sun to save itself from the parasite attackers. He could still see his brother Samuel Kirk dead on Deneva and his sister-in-law Aurelan Kirk dying in Sickbay. At least his nephew Peter Kirk survived and was brought to Starbase 10.
Kirk pressed a button on his command chair. "Engineering, how much more power can you put in the warp core?"
Scotty fingered his black environmental collar, wondering what else Kirk would do to tear the Enterprise apart in a place where there's no possibility of help from Starfleet. "Captain Kirk, the lass' doing all she could. If we make her go faster, the warp bubble will collapse and we will arrive in pieces instead of in peace! Captain, we must get to a starbase for full repairs!"
"I know, Scotty, I know. Can't you draw power from other sources?"
Montgomery Scott blew past his mustache. He glanced at the other engineers scurrying about in their white radiation suits topped by their own black environmental collars. "If you really want more power in the engines, then you be wanting many decks in the saucer section to depressurize. The forcefields and bulkheads over the breaches keeping the crew alive will go off to give us just a wee bit more speed. Do you still want more speed?"
Kirk sighed. "No. Thanks, Scotty."
"I'm sorry, Jim."
Sometimes you can't do everything in spite of what you might like to think. Spock. T'hy'la. He's still lying sick down in Sickbay. He'd hate to know what he would do if Spock died again. No. He already had some idea, thanks to the alien transpatial device. His grief had destroyed the Klingon Empire and the Federation in an alternate life. He would let the galaxy burn. He glanced around the bridge. No Starfleet Command to watch over his shoulder. What he could do with the power of the Enterprise at his fingertips.
"Caesar of the Stars," Lenore Karidian, daughter of Kodos the Executioner, whispered.
No. That way lies darkness.
Kirk sat back and watched helplessly as the dull golden Markab warship plunged into the glaring light of the Markab sun. Unknown number of souls burned in the light, finally cleansed and free from the Dark Angel of Drafa. "Mr. Chekov, return view to the Markab homeworld. Maintain course and speed. Uhura, you have the conn." He stood and went into the turbolift.
VVVVVVV
"How is he?"
McCoy automatically glanced at the life readings even though he did not need to. He intimately knew the diagnostic. "He's stabilized. Actually, his contracting the Drafa neurovirus may be a good thing."
"What?!"
"Calm down, Jim. Do you want the sedatives again? Perhaps I should have explained first. Having Drafa happen to a species I'm familiar with helps a lot. I've found something that could be a cure." Kirk's eyes brightened with hope. McCoy looked through his office window at the Markab still sick and at Spock lying on a biobed. "Not really a cure....Actually, I created another virus. A counter-virus. What it does is it 'reprograms' the Drafa neurovirus into repairing, perhaps even improving on the damages it has done." McCoy looked down at a vial filled with clear liquid. "It was as close as I could get to genetic engineering without breaking the Federation laws against eugenics. For some, the patients will return to what they have always been before. For a few others...well, I wouldn't be surprised if they turn out to be smarter than before, more intellectually efficient. As if Spock needs to be more efficient in his Vulcan brains!"
Kirk said, "But that's wonderful!" He frowned, though. "Isn't that...eugenics? Improving the neural performance of beings? No matter, as long as Spock's all right!" He brightened again.
Dr. McCoy nodded slowly. Eugenics. He hoped the Starfleet Medical Board wouldn't reprimand him for his work. Those medical bureaucrats should see that an entire species' existence was at stake! He was tired. His work on Drafa should be enough to earn him a medal from the Federation Council. He continued, "Now...how are we going to cure an entire world? We can't just beam down and start inoculating them. We don't have the number to do that. That is, if their priests don't lynch us first."
Kirk smiled. "I've been thinking on that one. The Markab government will most likely not be receptive to our help, so we'll do it for them. Do you remember what Spock asked of you at Khitomer?"
Dr. McCoy was confused now. Khitomer? Wasn't that in another universe entirely? "Jim, what are you yapping about? There's millions, if not billions, dying down there!"
Kirk grinned, giddy over McCoy's discovery of a cure for Drafa. "He said something like.... 'Have you ever performed surgery on a torpedo?'" His eyes gleamed in mischief.
McCoy's eyes widened in realization. "You don't mean...?"
"Yes! Perform the surgery on several torpedoes!"
McCoy brightened. Perhaps a world need not die after all! "Nurse! Get the other doctors on the double! Have them meet me in the torpedo bay! Have the synthesizers make tons of the counter-virus!"
VVVVVV
The Enterprise was now in orbit around Markab, still unchallenged by local ships.
"We are now in the optimal orbit as per my calculations," reported Spock. Kirk was happy to see the Vulcan at his station, all cured and walking in spite of the haggard look in the eyes.
"Now, Mr. Chekov!"
Modified torpedoes shot out of the Federation starship. Each of them maneuvered toward a major city of Markab. On the planet, flaring red stars were seen to streak through the sky. Each of the stars transformed themselves into a mini-nova, turning night into day where they were on the night side. Each nova rapidly spread a new virus upon most of the Markab homeworld, glittering down to the planet surface. It was a deconstruction of falling stars. The Markab people would finally know the light of hope and life. Only if it wasn't too late.
Janos 7, Earth Outpost.
An Earth space station rotated in its orbit around the seventh planet of the Janos System. Four spokes radiated from the central docking hub to the station ring. Four ships could be seen in the vicinity of the space station. Dark grey, blue-white, red and black.
The Hakudo Maru approached away from the jumpgate, escorted by the Hyperion-class cruiser Brittany.
Laurel Takashima should be feeling relieved to turn the responsibility of the red alien ship over to others. But the black ship hanging out there made her nervous. She still had not received a response from Earth Central, but obviously, this is the response.
EarthForce is planning something. And the PsiCorps is involved. Or is it the other way around?
Laurel squinted at the other EarthForce ship. It was easily identified as Omega class. She had to wait until the Brittany was close enough to the Earth destroyer for her to read its name emblazoned on its gun metal grey armor.
"Malin, do you know what ship that is?"
Commander Reza Malin looked at the information that the scanning officer relayed to his station. He gaped, eyes wide. "Ummm...Captain, it's the Ares."
Laurel's head snapped to Malin. The Ares? The darling ship of "the Firestorm," "the Scourge of Janos 7," General Richard Franklin. General Franklin's specialty was in infantry rather than space combat. However, he had the power to order space action. Is he part of whatever EarthForce's planning?
VVVVVVV
"Most fascinating. You say you're from another universe? You sure you have no way of getting back there? What a pity...Interplanetary Expeditions would go absolutely gaga over that." Matthias Thurn, the military governor of Janos 7 peered at T'Sara.
"Indeed," T'Sara said noncommittally.
"Director, if you don't mind my asking...." Captain Thurn could afford to be curious about things beyond the limitations of his orders. "Your ship's name...Hakudo Maru. It's human even though the ship was built by your people."
"That is correct, Captain." T'Sara knew that knowledge to be harmless. "As the Shi'Mar, it served the Vulcan High Command in a war preceding the founding of the Federation. As part of Vulcan's agreement with other member worlds to eventually phase out their own space fleets in favor of Starfleet, many ships were either given to Starfleet Command to do with as they will or were sold to other agencies within the Federation. A wealthy human merchant bought the Shi'Mar and renamed it accordingly. The merchant apparently had a sense of humor."
"I'll bet," said Thurn as he pressed a button to open a door. "Hakudo Maru was an ancient Japanese god who came from beyond Earth's sky to teach humans how to build ships. Did your people bring interstellar travel to the Earthers of your universe like the Centauri did to us?" Matthias Thurn did not really believe that these aliens came from another universe. They had to be lying in order to cover up the existence of their own empire beyond the Rim. Earth must know everything possible about that empire before sending ships in that direction. This Federation of theirs seems a perfect example of alien influences corrupting humans. It won't do to have another Minbari War. Such a war could be prevented by humoring these aliens' tales.
"No. Humans developed the warp drive themselves. A Vulcan survey ship detected their first warp flight test and contacted Earth."
The Czech man smiled. Another tidbit of information from the clueless alien! Vulcans seem to be just as arrogant as the Minbari. "We are not averse to humor in EarthForce ourselves. It is said that Captain Takashima's ship got the name because some bright administrator thought it could cast a shadow on Earth as large as the French region of Brittany." He chuckled. The alien woman didn't even crack a smile. She reminded him of the school frau he had in Prague on Earth. The frau was such a bitch. T'Sara and Thurn finally arrived at another door, flanked by two guards. Thurn took out an identicard and swiped it in a console beside the door. As the heavy door slid sideway and up, Captain Thurn bowed politely. "Ladies, first."
T'Sara quirked an eyebrow. "How quaint. Ancient human chivalry seems to be a constant between the two Earths."
The military governor of Janos 7 smiled widely. "Thank you." He swiped the identicard once more and the door fell shut. T'Sara glanced around impassively at the spartan room and reached her hands into the voluminous sleeves of her flowing robes.
T'Sara was now a prisoner of EarthForce.
VVVVVV
"Hello, Captain Takashima."
"Doctor."
Dr. John Howard smiled. "There's no need to stand on formality between us anymore. What can I do for you?"
Laurel Takashima had to keep smiling. Orders straight from General Franklin himself at Earth Central. She could see Lady Neclauna fiddling with someone else in the back of the alien bridge. She was grateful for the fact that even P12 telepaths cannot sense emotions over a commvid. Whatever sense they could get is from the natural skill of reading body language, honed over years of matching body languages with the thoughts and emotions in the person's mind. Still...she felt nervous and, would you believe it, a small spot of guilt. There would be war with the Federation if ever there was direct contact however unlikely that is and they find out about this. Still...teeps and teeks shouldn't be allowed to run around loose in the galaxy, especially those who appear human.
"John, there's a shuttle coming to your ship. Investigators, of course." At least that was the truth.
"Of course." The preeminent historian from Mars nodded at a crewman to open the shuttle bay doors. The ship's sensors would show the shuttle to be filled with 60 people.
Laurel Takashima leaned forward in her harnessed chair. She had to keep acting to follow her orders. The guilt bloomed. If only they could see the trap! Her eyes wandered over to the black ship hanging outside. A PsiCorps transport, which was really a modified star liner. She wondered once more why the PsiCorps chose the chilling black color for their uniforms and ships. The Omega class destroyer EAS Ares was moving into position in concert with the Brittany.
If only they could see!
Neclauna Nore raised her head up to look straight at Laurel Takashima's eyes. Neclauna raised a hand toward Dr. Howard. Could it be that Lady Neclauna is stronger than P12? She must have sensed something.
"John..." Neclauna was beginning to say. She was interrupted by a crewman. "Doctor! There's a report of weapons fire in the shuttle bay!"
Howard gawked at the crewman, shocked. Betrayal. The Betazoid noblewoman, however, was made of harder stock. "Shields! Shields! We must—" The communication screen shut down, blocking Laurel from the view. She slumped back into her chair, going over further orders. She whispered to the blank screen, "I'm sorry. I must obey my superiors."
VVVVV
The Federation humans, Betazoids and the occasional rare Vulcan had taken what phasers and lasers they could find. The most effective weapon beside the few handheld phasers was the portable archaeological laser drill. Against them were PPG guns and rifles wielded by armored and helmeted EarthForce troops. Already, they had broken through the shuttle bay entrance, forcing the Federationers to fall back through the Hakudo Maru's corridors. Since the Federationers did not wear armor and were mostly academicians, the EarthForce soldiers set their PPGs power to as low as possible, thus capable of merely wounding instead of killing. Unfortunately, the few weaker academicians caught in the fire were killed. But the soldiers were not without casualties.
The black uniforms of PsiCops hovered in the back of the boarding force, occasionally firing their own PPGs and throwing mental spikes to confuse the Federationers' minds.
Outside, the EarthForce ships detected energy spikes in the Hakudo Maru. The red ship maneuvered away. The Ares fired with laser cannons. The damage inflicted on the alien shields were only due to the greater power of the cannons. The Vulcan-built ship returned fire with phasers. Finding it a harder prey to subdue, the Brittany joined in the combat, and the Ares switched to particle cannons. StarFuries were launched to strafe the ship. Both EarthForce ships were ordered to only disable the red ship, just enough to allow the boarders to hijack it. As long as those shields were still up, the breaching pod hovering for later action could not approach.
The corridor shook once more with a vibrating boom. Neclauna threw out a hand on a wall to steady herself. That wasn't weapons fire. She lurched to an intraship communicator and pounded the activation button. "Bridge! What was that?"
"The warp core's offline! A few of the soldiers broke through and set off a form of explosive before we could cut them down!"
The situation has become grim.
Neclauna was trying to get to her own weapon and defend the ship against the boarders. She'd left Dr. Howard in charge once he found the mettle to command the situation. The corridor jumped to weapons fire from other ships. Now she could hear the whine of phasers and the pulses of the PPGs coming from around a bend of the corridor.
She paused and turned down another corridor to bypass the boarders to her quarters. Sensing another mind ahead, she skidded to a halt. She could feel the mind casting about, searching. It was almost amateurish, obviously depending on line of sight, but sharp. She began building her mental block as quickly as possible, an image of ancient fortified walls coming up in her mind. Pennants and banners bearing the sigil of the Fourth House were already fluttering atop nearly completed towers. She willed the wall to be invulnerable.
The core of cold arrogance quickly came closer and closer. Neclauna stood ramrod straight. She strengthened herself by thinking in her best tone of aristocracy, I am a Daughter of the Fourth House. Who dares come in my way?
The core came to a corner and gave Lady Neclauna the sight of a man in a black uniform, wearing black gloves. The light glinted off his badge. She recognized the symbol on the badge from Laurel Takashima's mind. A Psi symbol. So. This is a minion of the feared PsiCorps.
Upon seeing the Betazoid woman standing like a queen as if she had summoned him rather then wait for him, the PsiCop's mind seized hers. The PsiCop's mind was unbelievably aggressive, honed by a form of training forbidden on Betazed although not as refined as she could see from the ancient records sealed by the Betazoid government. Terribly, she coveted the PsiCop's intrusive ability.
Her mental block trembled under the assault. Furious about her moment of temptation, Neclauna reached out to the other mind and grappled with it. Even though the PsiCop was strong, she had finesse. He battered at her walls and found them too well established. The image came of a battering ram hitting again and again at the fortified walls. If any non-telepath saw them, he would only see two people staring at each other fiercely. The stare was no less deadly than the firefight occurring on and outside the ship. The noblewoman silently laughed and left the PsiCop battering on her walls. She slipped from behind a wall, forming a dagger of rage, rage at the betrayal and violation by EarthForce. While Betazoids were never trained in mental aggression, some could roughly do it. She stabbed the dagger deep into the PsiCop's mind.
A shriek of pain escaped the PsiCop's lips and soundlessly poured down his mental link into Neclauna's mind. She savagely twisted the dagger and the man could not endure it anymore. He fainted.
She stood over the body of the PsiCop, studying the man who would dare capture a Daughter of the Fourth House. She breathed slightly harder than normal. While he was a powerful telepath by the standards of Earth, she was a member of a people whose mentalics existed longer than recorded history.
The stamping footfalls of a soldier brought her attention up from the unconscious man. The soldier stopped in his tracks and looked at Neclauna. Thinking that Neclauna had just murdered the PsiCop, he swung a PPG rifle around at her. Neclauna's mind rushed to grapple with the soldier, causing him to pause. She must survive.
She sensed another mind. How did she not detect that mind until now? The distraction weakened her hold on the soldier's mind. But then a weapons fire rocked the ship, distracting her further. It was costly. It allowed the armored soldier to regain control and shot the Betazoid. She fell backward from the impact of the shot.
The other mind sensed Neclauna dying before she hit the deck. Neclauna's mind withdrew into itself and seemed to retreat through a tunnel, disappearing into it.
Anguish filled that mind. It struck at the soldier savagely, going on primal instinct. The white-hot primal rage drilled into his brains, severing some connections roughly in the way. The soldier died long before his body was aware of his death.
A stunningly beautiful woman came out of an opening door, her face twisted into a mask carved from ice, her eyes dark pools of fire. Liria Satarah turned her head toward the noise of the gunfire down the corridor. When her eyes fell down to the body of Neclauna, the black Betazoid eyes staring at the ceiling glassily, Liria trembled imperceptibly. Looking over at the unconscious PsiCop, her face screwed into an ugly visage of rage for a second before the mask of ice returned. She squared her shoulders, turned her Deltan pheromones on to full blast and honed her mind like a sword, and turned to walk headlong into the firefight ahead. These Earthers would pay for this.
VVVVVVV
Dr. John Howard was out of his element. The Hakudo Maru was only a civilian ship, albeit armed. In the main viewscreen, Howard could see the ships and space station exchanging weapons fire. Phasers, lasers, particle beams crisscrossed the night. The ship bucked once more as a missile exploded against the shields. T'Sara was still on that space station, so they were being careful not to blow it out of the sky. But the problem was those EarthForce warships. Heavily armored, heavily armed....EarthForce was certainly a lot more militant than Starfleet. Federation civilians were spoiled if they thought that Starfleet was too militant.
Reports were coming through that the tide of battle was turning against the boarders. Obviously, the Earth warships got word of that too, judging by how much harder they were fighting to disable the ship.
"Move us to close to that space station and away from those ships," ordered Dr. Howard. He may be a civilian, but he knew the military expediency of leaving no prisoners for the enemy to use. Surely, Starfleet crews could handle those ships better than his people ever could.
It was a plus that his people were not Starfleet-trained. Otherwise, they may be constrained by annoying rules. He had had enough of that huge dark grey warship. "Fire photon torpedoes."
The glowing red torpedoes sped out of the red ship to impact on the front of the Ares, destroying the fighter bay. Two of the torpedoes missed the front, but hit the rotating section of the Omega class destroyer, disrupting the rotation. However, the Hakudo Maru's shields were still weakening, so it wasn't enough. They had to leave this system.
The helmsman called out, "We're close enough to the station!"
Howard gave the signal to drop shields and begin transport.
"We have her!" yelled the transporter technician over the intercom. Of course. T'Sara is the only Vulcan biosign on that station.
Then a massive explosion shook the Hakudo Maru and the ship violently pitched, throwing almost everyone aboard off balance. Screams were ringing throughout the ship along with the clatter and crash of objects and equipments not tied or screwed down.
The Hakudo Maru was listing to the side, debris pouring from under the tapering tail of the ship.
"Wha...what happened?" Dr. Howard picked himself up from the deck.
"While the shields were down, they shot at the impulse engines. They're down."
Shit! Dr. John Howard was not looking forward to being in an interrogation room, being brutally plumbed of all information. He must survive at all costs. He highly doubted that survival was possible while he was put to the question. He jumped out of his chair and ran into the turbolift.
Coming out of the turbolift in another deck, he ran. There was only one way to survive: leave this damned place. The impulse engines were as good as destroyed and the warp core was offline. The only way the ship could move was by maneuvering thrusters and they wouldn't do much in orbit of Janos 7 for his survival.
Rounding a corner, he tripped over a body. His fall was softened by another body. He hurriedly scrambled off the bodies and looked back at them. One of them, at least, was still alive, breathing. The unconscious man was not armored and helmeted like the dead soldier. He could not see any wound on them, but he did see that a PPG fell out of the unconscious man's holster. Howard grabbed the PPG gun and continued running, gripping the weapon close to his own body. It wouldn't do to trip over a living conscious EarthForce soldier unarmed.
Panting, he finally arrived at his intended destination. A double door with twin snakes coiling around a caduceus painted on it. His approach opened the door. Finding no one in the ship's darkened infirmary, he walked quickly over to a bed. He stared grimly down at the woman lying in the bed. Giuliana Margolis, the Starfleet liaison and observer, still in a coma from the transit into this universe.
And the only chance for them to escape this debacle.
Dr. Howard was well versed in basic medicine from his archaeological practice out in the field far from civilization. Field medicine had saved his life among the ruins on Yadalla Prime.
He gingerly picked up a vial of the strongest stimulant he could see on the drug rack and clicked it into a hypospray. All of them need to survive and Giuliana was the best hope for that.
"What are you doing?"
John Howard whirled around. It was Doctor Nashiin. The Oran'taku woman stepped into the light closer to Howard, narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion. Her beauty was marred by a bruise on her head received when she fell against her desk in the space battle. She caught sight of the hypospray just as the archaeologist thrust it behind his back.
"John....What. Are. You. Doing?"
John Howard sighed and turned on his charm as much as possible. "We need Lieutenant Margolis. If we don't wake her, we're all going to die." The charm, unfortunately, was a waste on the professional older woman. Nashiin peered at him in a no-nonsense way.
"Give me that. That kind of stimulant would wake her, but it would crash her system. Giuliana may not survive that." The Oran'taku held out an open hand.
Howard smiled ingratiatingly, hiding his frustration at the narrowness of smaller minds. He pulled his hand out from behind his back. Instead of the hypospray, the hand now held an EarthForce PPG gun. Plasma pulses lit up the dim infirmary. Dr. Nashiin fell dead with a smoking plasma burn in her chest. Anyone investigating would think EarthForce did it. No one must stand in the way of his survival.
He turned back to the bed and pressed the hypospray onto Giuliana's neck, squirting the entire content of the vial into her carotid artery.
Lieutenant Giuliana Margolis gasped awake, her eyes snapping open. She looked at Howard in frightened confusion.
"No time for questions. We need your help, Giulie. The warp core's offline and we may die here."
Giuliana gasped once more as the news caused her natural adrenaline to flow into a bloodstream already heavily saturated with stimulant. She nodded in wordless agreement. She must do her Starfleet duty to protect the lives of Federation citizens. Howard helped her up from the bed and half dragged, half-carried her out the door in the direction of Engineering.
Reaching Engineering proved not an easy task as Howard had to help Giuliana over bodies strewn in the corridors and past damages, and all the while, the ship shook under fire from the Earth warships.
The matter/antimatter annihilation column sat silent and dark in the center of Engineering, almost too big for the chamber which was built for a fusion-powered warp engine. Howard had to put his ear close to Giuliana's lips for hoarse whispers of instructions.
"Bring me over there." She weakly and tremblingly pointed at a console. She was beginning to lose control of her neural functions in her body. If John Howard did not know better, he would have thought she was beginning to display symptoms of the ancient Parkinson's Syndrome.
Giuliana panted as she fiddled with the controls of the console. "We have to cold-start the warp core. It's a new core, so it'll handle it." The ship shook once more, this time with a booming sound.
The shields were failing and that booming sound meant that EarthForce weapons had penetrated the shields, impacting the hull itself. A croaking hum rose in the Engineering chamber. The central column began to glow. John Howard excitedly adjusted the thruster controls to maneuver the ship to the direction back out of the Earth Alliance. When he was done, he shouted his congratulations to Giuliana. A gurgling gasp cut off Howard's enthusiasm. He turned to the Starfleet liaison.
Lt. Giuliana Margolis was lying crumpled at the foot of the core activation console. Her body had finally succumbed to the shock of the stimulant that Howard injected her. She was dead. Howard sighed disappointedly.
VVVVVV
Captain Laurel Takashima exhaled. She was astounded by the enduring presence of those force shields around the alien red ship. As far as she knew, only the Abbai had the technology and not even the most expert techrunner had ever succeeded in ferreting out the secret of that technology. And those energy weapons...if the scanner readings were correct, the alien ship fed very little power to the weapons, yet they were comparably more effective than EarthForce's energy weapons. And those torpedoes....The Vree had similar antimatter weapons, but Earth Special Projects had so far failed even to reverse-engineer what Vree antimatter weapons Earth could get in any way.
And now...just on the verge of disabling the Hakudo Maru, the aliens somehow succeeded in restarting the ship's very strange FTL engines, and Laurel was treated to the sight of the red ship stretching itself toward the edge of the Janos System and snapping itself into a blooming blue-white flower. She couldn't believe it. They actually had the technology to go faster than light in normal space!
In a way, she was glad. She activated her personal tachcomm and typed in an encrypted message, and sent it off in the direction of the Hakudo Maru. Perhaps not even tachyon could catch up with the alien Federation research ship.
Laurel's lips attempted to tug themselves into a smile. General Franklin and Captain Thurn are going to be furious and humiliated at being bested by a mere research ship crewed by academicians!
Absent-mindedly and detached from herself, her fingers typed in another encrypted message and sent it off to Mars.