*********************************************************** USS Sutherland Captain’s Ready Room “Enter,” Fleet Admiral Grace said without looking up. The door swooshed open, but the entrant took hesitant steps into Grace’s temporary command post. “Uh, excuse me, dad, I mean sir.” It was Alvin. The admiral forced himself not to sigh, but lines of irritation were burrowed into his face. Taking over Albert Grace’s job was one thing, but he had had a vexing time acclimating to the man’s home life. Albert’s stint as a prisoner of war had been a convenient excuse for any changes in behavior, but after so many years, it had worn thin. Melek Urlak looked at the pensive young man before him and knew what he should say to alleviate his doubts, to mollify his concerns, to reaffirm Albert’s love for him, but what he saw instead was Melken, his own flesh and blood, who had grown up without him, and was now a hostage of monsters. “I’m busy Ensign,” he said coldly. “I…see that,” Alvin said, tensing up as he stood at attention. “Yet you saw the need to interrupt me, why?” “It’s just…well…” “Well?” “I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said, deflating as if the admission was a terrible thing. “I just wanted to know how you were doing.” “I’m doing fine, why didn’t you check with your mother?” “She doesn’t hear much from you either…since….” “I moved out? It was for the best, we both told you that.” Now that he had reached the pinnacle of power he had started shedding some of the baggage, such as his false marriage, like dead skin. “I know, but Dad…I just…” “I don’t have all day…son…if you have something to say, stop hemming and hawing.” Alvin’s bottom lip quivered as he struggled to find the right words. The admiral leaned back from Shelby’s desk, crossing his arms. A small sigh escaped his lips. “I’m sorry for wasting your time…admiral,” Alvin sounded utterly defeated. It was pathetic. He remembered Melken having much more fire. “Dismissed then,” he ordered. Shoulders slumped, Alvin escaped the room. The admiral returned to his work, the exchange already forgotten. ***************************************************** USS Sutherland First Officer’s Quarters Commander Sam Lavelle plopped onto his bed, in full uniform. He was beat. Admiral Grace had the entire ship running at full blast, instituting two additional shifts to keep the ship on full alert until they reached the Pentath System. He didn’t irk him as much as the admiral’s pulling rank stunt, because he had to admit, through his cloud of anger, that a heightened alert was necessary. As news of Melken Urlak’s kidnapping spread it was bound to embolden other militants to strike, and Sutherland made for a big, nice silvery target. He rolled around on the bed, unable to rest. His heart was beating too loudly, the blood rushing through his ears, and memories of all the data he had consumed flashed through his mind’s eye. “Frinx it!” He muttered, sitting up. He pulled off his duty jacket and tossed it on the bed. Jogging over to the replicator, he ordered a glass of orange juice. The cold glass in his hand, he made his way over to his desktop computer. He fell into the chair and stared at the blank screen. “I might as well get this over with,” he said. Sam typed in the code. It took a few moments before Maria Django yawned in his face, from half a quadrant away. “Sam, you look like crap.” “Good to see you too Maria,” he half-smiled, “And you look, well rested.” The gorgeous, dusky woman laughed. “I guess that’s a nicer way of saying I look dog tired.” “How have you been?” Sam asked. “Okay, its long hours, but its good work…I suppose; something to keep the neurons and synapses firing.” “Oh, okay,” Lavelle said slowly, not sure if he was pleased that Maria was satisfied with the assignment. Deep down he was hoping she was going to tell him she was eager to return to Sutherland, to be back with him. “So, you’re telling me that you haven’t been reprimanded yet?” Sam’s heart ached at the woman’s bright smile and throaty laughter. “Funny you should mention that,” she said. “I was certain I would be in the stockade now myself, with the project manager being a Zaldan and my roommate a Tellarite.” “Really?” Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. That did not sound like a good mix at all. “Yeah, but you know what? It’s been pretty cool being able to let loose and just be honest, or witchy,” Maria replied. “I mean, I never realized how thin-skinned humans can be. There are some on the team who are nettled by the bantering, but I give as good as I get.” “I guess it is good you’re making friends,” Sam remarked, a bit drolly. “I’ll make sure to tell Captain Shelby to make note of that in your next evaluation.” “About that,” Maria bit her lip. “Listen, you know I’m not the type to mince words, so let me tell it to you straight: Sam, I don’t think I’m coming back to Sutherland.” ************************************************************** USS Sutherland Deck Six “Hey Alvin, what’s up mate?” Lt. Peter Rudd said. The ensign mumbled as he walked by, aimless. The young man’s demeanor caught not only Rudd, but the attention of his training mates, Lt. Sito and Petty Officer Triese. “He’s probably tired,” the Bajoran offered. “Yeah, something I guess we can relate to sir,” Rudd sighed. He felt bone tired. The fleet admiral had put Major Laxx in charge of preparing a rescue team for the Cardassian girl. The bland looks of the Bolian masked a sinoraptor’s heart. He had been relentless. Even Triese’s armor had cracked. Only Lt. Sito left the latest session beaming, like she did after every one. It only added to the scuttlebutt that his boss was a weirdo. There was some lingering sympathy for her and what she had endured as a Cardassian prisoner, but that had been a long time before Rudd had been assigned to Sutherland, and there had a lot of new crewmates since her rescue, and they characterized her behavior and attitude in much less sympathetic terms. Peter had defended her as best he could. As his immediate superior, she had been nothing but top notch. However, he hadn’t been able to shake the bloodthirsty images of Aridus III out of his mind, and now, how she seemed to be a glutton for punishment, it unsettled him. He had seen his share of brutality, and even dished some of it out himself, but there had been something chilling, disturbing, about how the Bajoran had dispatched the Ferengi; a kind of feral glee that he had seen visit too many men on the battlefield. He told himself that he was just imagining it, that Sito wasn’t as damaged as he feared, that she had just gotten lost in the heat of battle, but Peter knew he was going to have to keep telling himself that, and he also had resolved to keep a closer eye on Sito. Without much thought to Grace’s predicament, Sito said, “I’m going to hit the sonic shower,” before trotting off. Rudd turned back toward Grace, who had stopped at the entrance to the holodeck. The young man jumped back as the doors parted and Major Laxx strode out. A history buff, the man was dressed in a snug replica of a 22nd century gray Military Assault Command Operations combat uniform. Laxx had just put them through one of his favorite simulations, taken from the era of the Xindi crisis. One of Rudd’s ancestors had been a MACO during that time, and had kept a journal of her exploits. Each member of the Rudds who had joined the MACO or Marines since had added memories of their time of service to it. His grandfather had passed the woman’s journal to him and it was one of Peter’s most prized possessions. It was the reason he entered the Marines. And Rudd had added his own entries to the journal during the Dominion War to one day pass on to his children. After the war, they had granted him lateral entry into Starfleet. He was still adjusting to the culture shock, and he had come to realize that the derisive attitude of some of his brothers in arms toward the squids was unwarranted. Triese touched him lightly on the shoulder, breaking the hold of his memories. “Lt. Rudd, I’ll check on the ensign.” “No, it’s okay Triese,” Rudd said, before turning back to look at her. When he did, he took in her supple form, and realized that spending time with the Vulcan-Orion might just be what the doctor ordered to shake Alvin free from the doldrums. “Oh second thought…have at it.” ************************************************************
*************************************************************** USS Sutherland Holodeck Deck Six Petty Officer Triese stepped back into hell. Except this time the adversary bearing down on the smoke-filled bridge was a Cardassian destroyer and not a Xindi-Insectoid one. Ensign Grace stood off to the side, oddly not participating. He was merely watching a younger, slimmer version of his father. The man was kneeling at the foot of the command chair, cradling the bleeding head of his graying commander, while barking out orders. The few crew that remained at least semi-conscious and at their posts jumped at the sound of his voice. Triese didn’t intrude on the moment. She merely watched it unfold. Some ragged crewmen carefully picked up the fallen captain and Grace took the command chair. Digging into the armrests, nearly falling off the seat, he continued issuing orders, a dizzying array of evasive maneuvers to keep the Cardassians always several blasts away from demolishing his vessel. The Starfleet crew caught a break, courtesy of a nebula that the elder Grace ordered them into. “The Tong Beak Nebula,” Ensign Grace said, before adding, “Computer, freeze program.” The future admiral was still perched on the command seat, his mouth open. “My father told he kept the Maverick in the nebula for over a week, to prevent the Cardassians from finding them. I remember how he shook his head, amazed that they found their way back out again. I recall the tale so clearly because it was the last one he told me before he headed out on the mission where he was captured. He didn’t talk much more about the war…or anything else, after he returned.” Triese didn’t know what to say in response, so she said nothing. She merely cocked her head to the side as if she was analyzing a difficult problem, and in a way she was. “I’m a little surprised to see you here Petty Officer,” Grace brightened a little. He walked past the photonic recreations to face her directly. “But I am pleased.” “It’s just…when you bypassed us in the corridor, you looked distressed. I came to ascertain the causes of it.” “Hold on, that almost sounds like you care about my well being,” now the man had a hint of a smirk. “I was merely checking on your psychological state to insure that the ship remains efficiently run. It would be unfortunate that Sutherland’s most capable flight control officer is not at peak efficiency when we find the abductors.” “Okay,” the ensign shrugged, his expression incredulous. “Whatever gets you through the night; in any event I am glad you checked up on me.” “Is there…any way I can be of assistance?” Triese struggled against saying the words, “If you ever need to…talk.” “Thanks Triese,” Grace said, his spirits dampening again. “But this is something I need to handle on my own. Something I have to endure I suppose, really something I’ve been dealing with for a long time.” “I…understand how difficult the relationship between parents and children can be,” Triese said. “If I might be so…forward?” Grace nodded. Triese continued, “I think almost everyone detects strained relations between you and the admiral.” “Yeah, but the strain is definitely more on his end,” the ensign admitted after a few minutes. “He was never the same after the Cardassian War. In my head, I get that, but my heart never will.” “I never knew my father,” Triese said, the admission shocking Alvin out of his self-pity. “Really?” He asked, “I’m so sorry.” “Why do you apologize? You had nothing to do with it and it occurred years before your birth,” Triese was now incredulous, in a non-emotional way. “Are you familiar with the concept of Pon Farr?” “Yes, the Vulcan mating ritual.” Triese nodded. “At one time a closely guarded secret among the Vulcans, that restriction has eased over the last hundred years. My mother was stricken with Pon Farr on a voyage back to Vulcan. Her betrothed was not with her, and the only male who could satiate her desires was an obliging Orion crewmen on the ship she was traveling on. Despite the child belonging to another, a non-Vulcan at that, Stelen, raised me. However I don’t think he ever quite warmed to me, even for a Vulcan.” “Did I just detect a joke?” “Perhaps,” Triese said. She sighed, “It was very hard learning how to be a proper Vulcan, and to do so I felt the need to eschew my Orion heritage, the source of much ridicule during my youth. My mother, T’Maut, disapproved, but I was stubborn. I think it wound up being the proper course, the more I learned how the outside world viewed Orions, especially Orion females. I sought to become the very antithesis of those stereotypes.” “Yeah, I think you succeeded.” “I do as well,” she sighed again. “I don’t know why I am telling you this, but I sense your interest in me is not strictly prurient…and…I…guess you need a friend right now, so I’m opening up to you to show that you can trust me and you can do likewise if so inclined.” “Wow, thanks, I mean, whoa, this is major,” Grace smiled. “Thank you for reaching out like that to me.” He touched her shoulder gently. “As I said before, this thing with my dad, it started after he came home. He was more distant, so distant in fact that I sometimes felt even his touch was cooler. The doctors told my mom about possible changes due to his imprisonment and some of that filtered down to me, but it never jibed with the fact that my dad stopped being interested in my life, in me. Sure he would show up sometimes for my games or recitals, but it was always perfunctory. He got more and more wrapped in work. I guess in a way I joined Starfleet to make him proud of me. As much as I love flying, I like music even more.” “I did not know you were a musician.” “Yeah, I had talked to Captain Shelby about putting together a concert. You play any instruments?” “My ministrations on the Vulcan lyre have been termed agreeable by some at the Vulcan Defense Institute,” Triese remarked. “That sounds great,” Grace was now beaming. “Perhaps we can put together a jam session.” “I am not familiar with the term ‘jam session.” “It’s something that has to be experienced more than explained.” “I see, so what instrument are you proficient with?” “Several,” Grace said, not unable to hide his pride. Triese found herself preferring that look than the defeated one he had trudged into the holodeck with. “Perhaps you would be willing to demonstrate this supposed proficiency?” “Lady, you haven’t said nothing but a word,” the ensign grinned. “Computer, end program.” The images of combat faded into the black and yellow laced grid of the holodeck. “Now, run the Savoy Ballroom program.” The images of brightly, well attired, dancing humans and high octane jazz music rent the air. He gestured to an empty table. “How about you take a seat, and watch and learn,” he said before making his way to the stage. ******************************************************************** Cardassian Central Command Vehicle Rlakar Command Bridge Gul Gavran felt that shot in his toes. The next one made his teeth rattle. “What part of evasive maneuvers don’t you understand?” He snapped at his beleaguered helm officer. The young man was doing the best he could, but the two Hideki cruisers on their tail were coming hard and fast. Their spiral disruptors formed another crisscross pattern, hammering their aft shields. If they kept it up the lethal duo were going to overwhelm the aft shield generators. “How did they discover us?” Berced muttered to herself. She sat beside him, her fingers flying over her chair console. She had had weapons rerouted to her station. Gavran had approved the move over the protest of his Weapons Officer, but so far Berced had been unable to land a devastating hit. “Turn us around,” Gavran ordered the hapless pilot. “You do know how to do that don’t you?” He was through running. *************************************************************** Cardassian Security Forces Vessel Adamant Pentath System Gul Vaidar Dien’s knobby brow ticked upwards slightly. “Both vessels, both, were destroyed?” The yeoman delivering the news gulped in fear, mistaking his disbelief for anger. Dien waved the man away, and he was only too happy to depart. Dien put down his data slate and sat in silent contemplation. He couldn’t believe this news. He had served with Gavran, both in the Guard and against the occupation forces, and he knew of the man’s reckless ferocity firsthand, but even he was stunned that the man escaped. He could only chalk it up to the inexperience of the unfortunate patrol craft that had stumbled upon Rlakar. He would not make the same mistake. He looked forward to the hunt, even if he had to wait around on the trudging Starfleet vessel. He knew that the trail would have grown cold by the time Adamant made it to Pentath, much less Sutherland. However, politics trumped a logical investigation. Urlak always had his eye on the big picture and that is why Dien laid down his arms to begin with. The charismatic types like Guls En’Roel and Gavran were great to listen to, but too unstable, for his good. They were like streaking comets, a lot of flash and then nothing. Urlak had worked his plan and was now poised to be the most powerful man on Cardassia. The revolution they had launched after the war had succeeded, right under the noses of the Federation and even diehards like Gavran. Though he would kill Gavran the first chance he got, Dien hoped he could talk to his brother at least and allow him to see reason, that Dien and the others who surrendered their arms were not cowards. Far from it, they were the true visionaries, and now they stood ready to retake Cardassia. Once that was accomplished, the old ways would return and once Cardassia was strong, old scores would be settled. **************************************************************
It always strikes me that there appear to be too many Cardassians longing for the "good 'ole days" without realizing that those were the days that led them down this path in the first place. But I suppose it is not an entirely unexpected attitude considering that societies militaristic history. Greatly enjoying this so far, the greater political machinations, the old and new relationships on Sutherland and the many secrets which are bound to come out eventually. All good stuff.
Thanks for reading and commenting again CeJay. Yeah, there are some Cardassians who perhaps learned the wrong lessons from the Dominion War. They are ready to blame others and not see their own faults and how their arrogance and jingoism played a large part in their current situation. Though to be fair to them, compared to what they are dealing with post-war, the pre-war years had to be looking pretty sweet. ************************************************************* Blind Moon Hotel Cardassia Sancel propped himself up on an elbow. The woman felt his eyes on her, making her skin crawl. She quickly slipped on her shirt before turning back around. Straightening the blouse, she asked, “So that’s the latest out of the Premier-elect’s office?” “Yes, heard it straight from Director Venak’s mouth herself,” Sancel said. He patted the bed. “You sure we don’t have time for another round. I had always imagined, but never thought that human women could be so durable.” She forced herself to smile. “Perhaps some other time,” she said. “I have a deadline to make.” “You’ll remember to keep our conversations off the record,” he said, a warning implicit in his tone. “Of course,” she said, making her smile sultry. “I would never expose my best source.” “Sometimes I think you sleep with me just for your exclusives.” “Sometimes I think you’re right,” she masked the truth with a laugh. Sancel threw back his head and joined in. “Durable and a sense of humor, if you weren’t a Terran, I would bring you home.” “Perhaps one day. The Premier-elect has been making surreptitious connections with quadrant powers critical of Starfleet intervention. Would you happen to know why that is?” He shrugged, “Who knows? I work for the Apparatus; even though I am a highly ranked official, I’m not privy to everything, least of which the Premier-elect’s mind.” “How about you work on getting an answer to that question for me?” She cooed, “I would be very grateful.” “Really?” Sancel’s smile became salacious. “How about a down payment?” “Sorry lover, but I really do have that deadline to make. Federation citizens are rightly anxious to know about the latest events on Cardassia, especially the status of Melken Urlak.” Sancel frowned, but nodded in understanding. “It’s just as well,” he sighed. “The director probably will be inquiring about my whereabouts if I don’t pop in before long, and I don’t want her to find out about you.” Neither did she, but she didn’t let him know that. She merely smiled and allowed him to hug and kiss her before she escaped the room. Once far away from the Blind Moon, on a commuter train heading out of the capital city, she pulled out her communicator and tapped a message to Garak. “Good work Illiana,” he typed back. “There was a minor hiccup with Gavran, but all is well.” “It had better be,” she muttered to herself. She looked at her reflection in the glass window of the commuter train. She no longer wore Kira’s guise. Now she was a bronze-skinned human with curly, shoulder-length raven hair. She rubbed the smooth bridge of her nose. At least the ridge was gone, but she was far away from her natural appearance. She was becoming too comfortable in the skin of others. Being back on her homeworld, among her own kind, was something she had dreamed of the long nights she had been an infiltrator in the Bajoran resistance. But she had been under cover for so long, she couldn’t help but seeing the Cardassians as the Bajorans saw them, and she couldn’t help but feel the eyes of two many Cardassians watching her, often with a mix of curiosity, disdain, and hostility. The lessons taught to them by the Dominion about the dangers of bias and hubris had yet to be learned. And with Urlak ready to take the helm those lessons never would be. He was determined to restore the old ways and the recalcitrant Satie administration was fine with that if he kept a lid on the militants. The fools couldn’t see how Urlak was playing them. But soon the entire quadrant would. ************************************************************
DarKush, there are occasions when I wonder why you’ve elected to repeatedly tweak and re-write a particular story, but I must admit that in this case, this tale has grown stronger and sharper in each new incarnation. Urlak’s near-hoisting on his own petard, his brilliant plot to insert his son into the identity of a prominent Starfleet officer (now jeopardized by his granddaughter’s abduction), and the various plots and machinations set in motion by your characters infuse this story with nearly endless possible outcomes. Just outstanding character work here, and I’m very eager for more!
Illiana is a woman of many faces. I wouldn't mind learning more about what she has been up to in the past while impersonating a Bajoran. And now she works with/for Garak. Question is, who does Garak work for? Himself? Great stuff.
Gibraltar, Thanks for reading. I know sometimes I can be nerve wracking with my rewrites/revisions, but I want to make it as good as I can. If I don't right about a project, I'll tweak it. All of the other versions of this story just weren't working, either it was a character that wasn't right or a storyline that needed to be added, or something. Not saying this one is perfect, but I am satisfied with it thus far. Also thanks for creating Urlak and letting me run with him; same with Dien. This storyline really goes back to our initial cyber-meeting and chats, so it has a kind of full circle feel to it. And in that spirit, are there any other "Embers" characters you would like me to add? CeJay, Also thanks for reading again. I went back and made a correction. I decided to have Illiana portray a human while she's on Cardassia this time. I think that would arouse less suspicion, seeing a human and Cardassian together, as opposed to a Bajoran. I like the idea of how being a deep cover operative, masquerading as a Bajoran for so many years (as alluded to on DS9), has led Illiana to identify with the Bajorans more than her own people. The line between reality and fantasy has blurred for her, as it has between identities. Other readers, Oh yeah, I forgot to mention a while ago, that Melek/Grace and Justine Haas first appeared in my story, "False Colors" which can be found at the United Trek website. ************************************************************** USS Sutherland Main Bridge “What are you doing here?” Fleet Admiral Grace barked. Glinn Keta tensed up, frozen in front of the turbolift that she had just exited. All eyes turned to the startled young woman. Captain Shelby’s eyes narrowed, her system review forgotten. She looked at Admiral Grace, seeking answers for the rudeness of his tone. She paused, seeing his face was contorted with displeasure. “Well, I, uh, well I was hoping to offer assistance. I was assigned as the Republic’s liaison to Sutherland.” “I am aware of that, just like I am aware that the Republic has not authorized you to lend said assistance in this matter,” Grace replied. “It leads one to wonder why.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Shelby couldn’t help it. Though Sial wasn’t a regular member of her crew, she had served long enough for Shelby to feel like it, and she wasn’t going to tolerate any member of the Suthy being disrespected. Admiral Grace, his eyes still boring into Keta, ignored Shelby. “Major Laxx, escort Glinn Keta back to her quarters,” the flag officer nearly spat out the young woman’s rank. Major Laxx moved from the station he had suborned from Jaxa. He made a beeline to Keta. On the other side of Grace, Sam grumbled and anxiously flexed his biceps. Elizabeth knew that Lavelle wanted to intervene, and she had to head off the young man throwing away his career in an act of chivalry. If anyone was chucking their career today, Shelby guessed it would be her. “Hold on Admiral,” Shelby interjected, “Belay that order Mr. Laxx.” Laxx, similarly ignored her; he kept marching toward Keta, until Sito stepped into his path. The Bolian loomed over the petite Bajoran, but Jaxa didn’t budge an inch. Admiral Grace’s gaze burned through her, but it didn’t melt her resolve. She eyed him until he responded, “Carry out my orders Mr. Laxx.” “But admiral,” Sam spoke up. Shelby shifted her glare. “You have something to say Commander?” Grace challenged. Sam ground his jaw, his face reddening slightly. Shelby knew he was about to erupt. The Bolian placed a hand on Sito’s shoulder to move her aside. The woman grabbed his wrist and twisted, bringing the Marine to his knees with a surprised yelp. Everyone was on their feet after that. With his free hand, the Bolian punched into the back of one of Sito’s knees, bringing the woman down. There was a sickening snap as Laxx fell on top of her. Shelby wasn’t sure if it was Laxx or Jaxa. They struggled to untangle themselves and Sam ran to assist them, as did several other crewmen. Jaxa reluctantly hung onto to Lavelle for support as she favored her knee. Laxx waved off help. His hand hung uselessly from his mangled wrist. The Marine turned back to Keta, but this time, both Lavelle and Jaxa blocked him from reaching her. “Dad!” Ensign Grace called out, unable to control himself. The elder Grace stared the younger into embarrassed silence. Alvin looked absently at his flight control panel. “Admiral Grace,” Shelby said, steel in her voice. “This is getting out of control. Order Major Laxx to stand down.” “You don’t command me Captain,” Grace hissed. “Admiral Grace,” Commander Haas, sitting along the aft row of banks, spoke up. “I think this crew deserves a reason for your decision. They have served with Glinn Keta for a while now.” Shelby was impressed. Maybe Justine was on the level after all. The admiral huffed. “We can’t be sure of that Cardassian’s loyalty. Obviously the existing Cardassian government is rife with sympathizers.” “Sir, I have served the Republic loyally,” Keta said hotly. “You might not be aware, but I was abducted by True Way terrorists almost a year ago.” “Yes, yes, I am very familiar with your travails,” Grace nearly rolled his eyes. “The True Way and the Crimson Shadow are two different organizations.” “But with the same goal, to spread terror in the name of restoring authoritarian, undemocratic rule,” Keta riposted. Grace snorted. “Pretty speech,” the admiral said, “but until I am informed otherwise, by the Federation President or an authorized equivalent, I deem you a potential security risk. Now, you can spend your time confined to quarters or in the brig, it doesn’t matter to me.” Keta, biting her lip, looked to Shelby. The captain took off the gloves. “This is completely uncalled for Admiral. Glinn Keta has proven to be a trustworthy member of my crew, and her support for the allied war effort was exemplary. As has been her postwar work in rebuilding Cardassia. If I didn’t know better, I would think your only true objection to her partaking in this rescue operation is her species of origin.” Grace guffawed, “I’m trying to save a Cardassian girl, to strengthen the peace between the Federation and the Cardassian government, and you are accusing me of being a bigot? Not to mention countermanding my orders and encouraging insubordination against me through the likes of Commander Lavelle and Lt. Sito. To show you how unbiased I am, I’m not going to give you the gracious offer I made to the glinn. I want you, Lavelle, and Sito in the brig immediately!” ***************************************************************
Oh, hell. It looks like Grace is risking a full-scale mutiny onboard Sutherland. On Suthy, doing something like this would be tantamount to trying to unseat Kirk or Picard aboard their respective Enterprises. Regardless, this will not reflect well upon anyone involved.
It's really kicking off now. Grace may be the CinC but he is steadily overplaying his hand. And if we know one thing from experiences, it don't matter how many stars you've got, a crew's loyalty is usually to it's captain. This is gonna be fun to watch.
*************************************************************** USS Sutherland Main Bridge Captain Shelby only raised her voice slightly, but it reverberated across the bridge. “Everyone, calm down,” she said, relieved that the tension was starting to ease. For a few seconds she saw that her crew was going to apprehend Grace, Haas, and Laxx, and the last thing Sutherland needed on her record was a mutiny. She turned back to Admiral Grace and held up her wrists. “Where are the cuffs?” “Very funny,” he huffed. “Mr. Laxx, take them away.” “Sir, I think Laxx and Sito need medical treatment first,” Haas chimed in. Grace blew sighed heavily before nodding in agreement. “Justine, see to it,” he said, before sitting back down in Shelby’s chair, “and return to the bridge at once. For the duration of this mission, and perhaps after, you’re the captain of the Sutherland.” *************************************************************** Cardassian Central Command Vessel Varathun Medical Bay Gul Martell generally didn’t mind waiting, but his vaunted patience was being tested. He had felt the need to leave his base, to be mobile, and ready to respond the moment that one of his men told him Gavran’s location. Certainly the man would hide out in one of the network of Crimson Shadow bases spread throughout the former Union. But so far Gavran had eluded him, and Martell didn’t like to be outmaneuvered, especially by a hothead like Gavran. So it meant he had help, either from someone working inside the government, or more logically, someone working among his senior staff. It had taken a few unfortunate failed attempts, but he now stood over the most likely candidate. He touched the woman’s face, his fingers crawling like spiders up to the glowing probes attached to each side of her head. “Erija,” he said softly, a hint of regret in his voice. They had served together for years, forming a bond forged by surviving countless battles. She had been the only choice for him as an operations officer for the Varathun when hostilities began with the Federation. Despite their closeness he had been oblivious to the woman’s affair with Gavran. Martell frowned at the thought. He didn’t like not knowing things. It made him vulnerable, weak, and therefore prey. Martell was a predator. He could be no other way. Though he used his brain more so than his brawn, but the prey wound up devoured. “Erijan, you haven’t been truthful with me.” The woman pulled against her restrains, her eyes widening in terror. “Why didn’t you tell me that you and Gavran were…” “That was a long time ago Emst,” she said, referring to him by his given name. She was one of the very few on Varathun that was thusly privileged. “Not long enough it seemed,” he said, producing a padd that had been clipped to his belt. “We’ve discovered the communiqués. You’ve been helping him evade me.” “It’s-it’s not like that,” Erijan’s voice broke, “Gav is a patriot. He-he’s only doing what he feels needs to be done, what you…” “What I have what?” Martell pressed her. She turned away from him and muttered, “What you have failed to do.” “Interesting doctor,” he shifted his focus to the medic standing anxiously at the control panel. “She has already admitted her guilt before you activated the Romulan mind probe,” he said. They had bought the probes on the black market, along with other Romulan materiel. Thus far his engineers had been unable to successfully install the cloaking device. Too many anomalous energy distortions surrounded Varathun while it was under cloak. It would be far too easy for the Klingons or Starfleet to spot them. Despite that, Martell ordered that they continue working to synch the cloak with their systems. He had a feeling that they would need the device in the coming hours or days. The medic looked disappointed that Erijan was already talking. He had interrogated the others with zeal and dissected their brains afterward to study the effects of the probes, in order to make them more efficient. “Take heart, you will get a chance to utilize the probes, she hasn’t told us where Gavran’s hiding place is.” “I’ll never reveal that.” Martell rewarded his friend with one of his rare smiles. Such spirit, he thought in wistful fascination. The doctor would have to push her to the precipice of life to get the answers he sought and Martell was confident in the medic’s ability to do just that, as he was in the certainty that his old friend’s mind and body would be so wrecked by the ordeal that she would not survive. He would miss Erijan. “Medic, begin.” **************************************************************
Stories of betrayal and intrigue on the Cardassian vessel are quite interesting bit damn, I wanna know what's happening on Suthy. Shelby arrested and Grace already considering a permanent replacement ... wow. It looks as if Haas may become a key player in this.
Betrayal and conspiracy seem to be the order of the day here! Martell torturing an old friend and colleague is chilling enough, but I can't fathom what misadventures the duplicitous Grace has in store for Sutherland.
Hey guys, Thanks again for reading and commenting. You know with the Cardassians, especially Garak and Urlak, betrayal and deception are the rule and not the exception. I'm glad you are enjoying the tension on the Sutherland. It's cool to write, I just hope it all lives up to your expectations. ************************************************************ USS Sutherland Private Quarters “This is she,” Lt. Naomi Harrison yawned as she sat up in bed. She stretched and tried to wipe the sleep out of her eyes. Her husband turned over, squinting as Naomi turned on the night light. His expression brimmed with barely concealed annoyance. “The baby again?” He asked, his voice still heavy with sleep. She was the last one to check on their infant and it would be Trent’s turn. “No,” she whispered, “Go back to sleep. It’s the bridge.” His eyes fluttered open and now he was wide awake. “What’s going on love?” “Don’t know,” She said. “Lt. Harrison,” the unfamiliar female voice said again. Even half-awake Naomi knew just about everyone’s voice who did bridge duty, on every shift. But this must be one of the newer officers she hadn’t met or worked with yet. “Acknowledged.” “We need you on the bridge.” “Is everything all right?” Her husband spoke up, drawing a glare from her. “With whom am I speaking?” “Never mind that,” Naomi said, “Just my husband,” she playfully pinched his muscled biceps and flicked one of his hanging dreadlocks. He batted her hand away. “I’m on my way.” “Bridge out.” Naomi looked askance at her husband. “I gotta go love.” “What kind of business could they have with you at this bloody hour,” he remarked. “You just got off shift a few hours ago.” “You know how it is, the life of a Starfleet officer is unpredictable.” “I know,” he rolled his eyes, “If I didn’t love you so much…” he shook his head. “Yeah, whatever,” she pecked his cheek and gave him a quick hug. “I’ll see when I can.” ************************************************************** USS Sutherland Main Bridge Lt. Harrison was still working the sleep out of her muscles when the turbolift opened onto the bridge. She stepped off, immediately sensing the tense mood on the bridge. She tried to make eye contact with several of the officers but everyone studiously kept their gaze on their workstations. She glanced down at the command well, intending to ask Captain Shelby, but there was another blonde sitting in the captain’s chair. Commander Haas turned around slowly, a grim expression on her face. Harrison’s heart thumped in her chest. “Lt. Harrison,” Haas said, “Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted. You’re Sutherland’s new first officer.” ************************************************************* Tarlak Sector Cardassia Prime Mintof Urlak barged into the premier’s office. The acting premier’s bodyguard moved to intercept him. “Stop,” Remec said, unperturbed by Urlak’s interruption. The burly guard uneasily resumed his post by Remec’s desk. “I know this is about Melken.” “Of course it is,” Urlak said, his voice clotted with emotion. It was most unbecoming and completely unlike him, yet as the hours droned on with no word about his granddaughter’s whereabouts it was driving him insane. He didn’t want to think about what it must have been like for the relatives of all the people he had made disappear over the decades. They had all deserved it, he reminded himself, well, most had. And the others had stood in his way, which meant they were barriers to Cardassia’s progress. Their fears, their grief, was nothing like his, he told himself. Melken was an innocent, and the monsters that had taken her from him had to pay. “We are doing all that we can to find her and return her to you, safe and sound,” Remec promised. “That’s not true,” Mintof generally was more tactful, but his impatience had gotten the best of him. “Why haven’t you sent more ships to search? Why haven’t you swept all of the hideouts of the Shadow and other terrorists? Why haven’t you increased the numbers of arrests of known terrorists or their sympathizers, and why haven’t you more rigorously interrogated the ones in your possession?” “To do those things would not only invite panic but make us less secure. For every ship that has been relocated to the search, that is one less area protected and vulnerable to further attacks. We are doing all that is feasible.” “It is not good enough,” Urlak declared. “Until the inauguration I am premier,” Remec said with uncharacteristic passion. The man had been a genial sort, a mid-level technocrat who had been chosen as Lang’s deputy for his technical proficiency, but mainly because he had so few enemies. Though he had run for a full term in his own right he had been nothing but gracious to Urlak in defeat, until now. Unable to control himself, Urlak jabbed his finger at him like a blade, “If you don’t do as I ask…” he never finished his warning. The floor trembled first and then the walls shook. The windows shattered, jagged shards tearing into him before the shockwave through him to the floor. Dazed, in pain, blood pouring from his arms, chest, and face, Urlak sat up seconds later. Smoke and dust filled his lungs, causing him to hack. His ears rang, but even he heard the sound of distant alarms. Still coughing, he tried to get up. Despite the pain his arms, his legs were merely stiff. He quickly inspected himself for other injuries and was satisfied with the result. Urlak glanced out the large rip in the wall and he saw the cityscape dotted with fires. “My gods,” he muttered at the devastation, and he wasn’t a religious man. He hadn’t seen such destruction since the Founder had unleashed her demons on Prime, in a spiteful attempt to wipe out the Cardassian people. Remembering why he was there, Urlak turned toward the premier’s desk. “Premier Remec?” He tentatively called out. The desk was buried under a mangled bulkhead. He jumped as he heard heavy footsteps behind him. He turned slowly to see the security detachment, some as bloody and shaken as he was. “The premier?” The lead guard asked. Without a moment’s hesitation, Urlak replied, “I’m the premier now.” ************************************************************
Again really enjoyed the Sutherland scenes. A little peek at family life on a starship and a surprising promotion. You know you are in trouble if you have to go down that far in the ranks to pick a XO with few loyalties to the captain. And what in the blazes is happening on Cardassian? I'm going to assume that Urlak is not behind this, after all he was going to be premier anyway. Somebody else then? Interesting ...
CeJay, Thanks again for the comments. Even though Harrison is a new character, don't discount her loyalty to Shelby and the Suthy crew just yet. She may yet surprise you. As for what's happening on Cardassia, just wait and see. ************************************************************ Enigma Café Tarlak Sector “How can you drink that stuff?” Bivix, her Bzzit Khaht cameraman wrinkled his nostrils and blinked rapidly in distaste. “Humans and your ceaseless culinary curiosities,” he sniffed. Illiana Ghemor laughed, as she enjoyed the glass of hot fish juice, with a glee she hadn’t exhibited since she was a child. She hadn’t imbibed the Cardassian beverage in so long that it felt like she truly tasted it for the first time. And her human guise gave her cover to fully give in her joy and the nostalgia it evoked. She slid the half-finished cup towards Bivix and he reared back as if were toxic, prompting heartier laughter from her. “So, what’s on the menu today, and I don’t mean from this,” Bivix looked around with distaste at the dusty, outside café, “this dining establishment?” Even though she had worked with the man for several weeks, he was still a mystery to her. Why an amphibian, who needed frequent immersion in water, would put themselves through the ordeal of spending an extended period on a largely desert world, one with severe water restrictions, was as enigmatic as the tales that inspired the name of the restaurant. But despite his frequent complaining, Bivix seemed committed to capturing the restoration of Cardassia, the beauty and the warts. Outward appearance aside, he seemed to have a genuine interest and sympathy for her people. Bivix had elected to stay on even after she had availed her predecessor to return to the Federation, and he had served her so well, she almost regretted deceiving him. Illiana didn’t mind the dust, the cuisine, or the environment. In fact she was enlivened by being among the rough hewn men and women tearing through their food before they set off for the morning to rebuild Prime. It fortified her in her own mission. “I’ve scored a meeting with the Klaestron ambassador to discuss relief efforts,” Ghemor explained. The Klaestron embassy was around the corner. “I wonder how you got that kind of access?” Bivix flapped his protruding ears and then winked, “On second thought, keep it too yourself.” Illiana nearly spit out her fish juice, before forcing it down, to finish her chuckle. “You’ve got quite the imagination.” Though whatever was buzzing around the Bzzit Khaht’s mind probably wasn’t too far from the truth. She had worked her magic on Sancel once again, and he in turn had worked his magic to net her another major interview. The Klaestron had been allies of the Cardassians for years and even though they hadn’t joined the war against the Federation Alliance, they had been the first nation on the scene offering support after the Dominion’s near genocidal wave had abated. “I guess Quadrant News Network knew what it was doing when by giving Blish the ol’ heave-ho for you Elena,” he said. “You’re right about that,” she clucked. “I guess it’s time to go,” she said, signaling for the waiter. Illiana was reaching through her purse, searching for the appropriate amount of leks when the ground trembled beneath her feet, and she heard a rumble in the distance. She looked up, troubled, “Bivix,” she shouted, “Get down!” “What?” he asked, confused, “I don’t?” Illiana leapt from her seat, tackling the startled man, seconds before the shockwave blew through the dinner, the concussive force pushing smoke and debris. The blast had caught her like a hand, ripping her from the cameraman and throwing her across the room. Illiana joined the chorus of screams that erupted around her, before her head cracked against the unyielding wood from the bar. Smoke snaked into her lungs, bringing her back to life in a fit of hacking. Trip hammers pounded against her skull as Illiana sat up. Wincing, her body felt as ragged as her clothes. She blinked back waves of black as she took stock of her situation. Through clogged ears, she heard sirens wailing in the distance. The café was deathly still. She tried to call out for Bivix but began coughing again. She was the first, and perhaps the only, person that was going to do so in the Enigma Café, ever again. Testing her ability to stand, Illiana decided to crawl to where their table had been. She gingerly made her way over twisted metal, shattered wood, and flesh. “Oh Bivix,” she was shocked at the tears that sprang from her eyes when she found him, his head nearly wrenched from his broken neck. She checked his pulse anyway. Gathering the strength to stand, Illiana used the shards of the table for support. Legs quaking, her body leaking blood, she should’ve sought out help, but instead she caught the billowing smoke out of the corner of her eye. The explosion had come from that direction, she realized, a knot in her gut forming. “The Klaestron embassy is that way,” she muttered through cracked lips, talking as if Bivix were still with her. Illiana lumbered out into the street, toward the embassy. **************************************************************
************************************************************** Bajora One Private Quarters Ghirta Dulcett fell into Sarkin Noma’s arms. The kai held her strongly, pressing her tightly to him. “It…it must be the will of the Prophets,” he muttered, though with little conviction. “How, how could you say that?” Ghirta pulled back from him, her eyes flashing. “How could any you believe that any deities could condone such wanton slaughter?” She wanted to rage, she needed something, someone to attack, to lash out, to vent. Just a few moments ago First Minister Shakaar had informed Kai Noma of the horrific terrorist attack in Cardassia Prime’s capital. The stricken Bajoran leader had then informed Sarkin that he had ordered Bajora One to return to Bajor. Ghirta didn’t know how to feel about Shakaar being unperturbed by her presence in the religious leader’s quarters. He was equally unshaken at her protest of his order to return to Bajor. She was the Republic’s relief coordinator, connecting Bajor and Cardassia, if ever there was a time to strengthen the bonds between their people, it was now. No militant propaganda could combat the image of Bajora One swooping out of the sky to render aid. “The request to return to Bajor came out of the office of the premier,” Shakaar had said, letting a bit of weariness creep into his tone. It seemed like he had been making the same fuss about the decision as Ghirta had. “And in the interest of maintaining our relationship with the Cardassian people, I agreed. There is a standing offer of help,” he added before cutting the link. “I know these things…are difficult…to comprehend,” Sarkin said, “and it is something that has been speculated and debated by greater minds than I will ever possess, across countless worlds and centuries. How can any just deity countenance evil, but who are we to know the ways of the divine?” “I don’t know,” she said, her ire waning, “and I don’t care. I just want to help people; that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” “Me too.” “Well, you can handle all the soul stuff, I’ll do the material.” “That sounds like a perfect match,” he smiled and kissed her forehead, right in the center of spoon-shaped ridged. She laughed when he pulled back, seeing a touch of blue on his lips. “I didn’t realize it until now, but blue definitely suits you. Matches your eyes.” “Wha?” He asked, confused. She dabbed his bottom lip with his finger and showed him the azure smudge. “Oh,” he chortled while she rubbed some more off, and then just decided to kiss it away. She turned around and backed into him, wrapping his arms around her. His hands naturally rested on her belly. “I really thought things were getting better,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, the insurgency seemed to be dying out, things were getting back to normal. I never cared for Urlak, even before the Dominion War, his being a high-level member of the Obsidian Order was terrifying enough, but I have been forced to admit, that it takes a gettle to coral gettles. He had been able to instill some order back on Prime, and the ripple effect had spread across the Republic. But now, with his granddaughter’s kidnapping and this attack today…” “These are tough times,” Sarkin’s breath was soft on her hair. “But there have always been tough times. There were times during the Occupation that I came close to losing my faith, of giving it up, of giving into the hatred that wanted to burrow into my heart, but I held on to my faith, sometimes by the slenderest of threads, and now I am Kai, now I can help others get through their midnight hours. Sometimes, you’ve just got to believe, even though there is no logical reason to, even though it’s easier to just crumble, you’ve got to have crazy faith.” “Crazy faith,” she laughed, “I like that.” “I’m glad you do,” Sarkin joined her. “Though it’s a phrase I think the vedeks wouldn’t be too sanguine about, nor the Oralian clerics.” “Perhaps we’ll just keep it to ourselves,” she said, looking up at him. Her smile held only a few seconds more before worry set in on her face. “Ghirta, what’s wrong?” “I was thinking of our child,” she said, placing her hands over his. “I had hoped things would get better on Cardassia so that he wouldn’t be treated as an outsider or a target for someone’s bias.” “I am sure that she won’t,” Sarkin declared, “and there is always Bajor.” “I don’t think the half-Cardassian child of the Kai is going to go over well. Not all of the wounds of the Occupation have been healed, and there is a lot of scar tissue,” Ghirta pointed out. “And it seems things have gotten worse lately.” “What do you mean?” “You know of the attacks against Cardassians and other outworlders in several Bajoran cities.” “Those are isolated incidents, the actions of disaffected ruffians.” “It might be more isolated than you think,” Ghirta remaked. Sarkin held back a sigh. They had discussed this before. He suspected that Ghirta’s pregnancy induced hormonal changes were making her paranoid. Surely there was a reservoir of hard feelings among his people regarding the Cardassians, but he had been proud at how many Bajorans had forgiven the Cardassians for their sins against them. Some of his people never would, and some would go further, spewing hatred and spreading violence, but surely they were a small, sad lot. Or so he had told himself. But he had to admit that there was a growing intolerance, even in the clergy. Sarkin chalked it up to the after effects of the Dominion War, not to mention the tensions that had emerged over Premier Lang’s assassination in Bajoran space. But hardliners in the Provisional Government had blamed the Federation for that tragedy, and it was a view that had taken hold among many Bajorans. He shook his head. Growing resentment of non-Bajorans had even poisoned the relationship with the Federation. Bajor wouldn’t be as prosperous as it was, if the Federation hadn’t helped them rebuild so quickly after the Cardassians left, nor would they be free if not for the sacrifices born by the Federation Alliance. Bajor had largely sat out the war, safe due to a nonaggression pact with the Dominion that was only rescinded in the last year of the war, once Deep Space Nine was securely in Starfleet’s possession. Sarkin had debated whether, or how to address it. Didn’t his people have a right to hate, as awful as that sounded? They had been abused in the most horrific way, for decades while the other Alpha Quadrant powers had turned a blind eye. And once the Cardassians were driven from their planet, the Federation came in to help, but also to influence their self-determination. Damn, he thought, the hardliners are even starting to get to me. Sarkin shook his head. “Lost in thought again I see,” Ghirta said. The Kai squeezed her tightly. “You…you have a point. There is a growing intolerance on Bajor. I haven’t wanted to see it, because…maybe I agree with it to some extent. But I would never let an atmosphere of virulence impact our child.” “I know you wouldn’t.” “That’s why I’m going to address it when I return,” he said. “Starting with a sermon and full review of religious policy and instruction.” “I don’t want you going too far, too fast,” Ghirta cautioned, “The Bajoran people have been through a lot; you don’t want to get ahead of them.” “I was chosen to be Kai just for that purpose,” Noma replied with an easy smile. “And now it’s about time I finally got down to doing my job.” *************************************************************
************************************************************* USS Sutherland Sickbay Dr. Denise Murakawa nodded toward her office and Lt. Commander Jadon Tol silently took her lead. Once behind the soundproof walls, he said, “Dr. Murakawa, you know I did completed my annual physical last week. What is this about?” Denise raised both eyebrows. “Do you really need to ask?” “I guess not, though you know I can be a little dense at times,” Tol said, his tone flippant but his gaze deadly serious. “Admiral Grace has ordered radio silence until we reach our rendezvous,” Murakawa explained. “I want you to find a way around it.” “Are you serious?” The Trill engineer scoffed. “I need to send a message to Rear Admiral Bateson,” Murakawa said, her heart beating faster at the mention of her paramour. Currently the admiral was too far away, ensconced at Star Station Echo, in charge of the 7th Border Service Squadron. “Right now we are inside the bubble, and if Grace has cut us off, there is little doubt that Starfleet Command is unaware of his actions.” “And if they were? So what?” Tol said bitterly. “He’s the frinxin’ C-n-C, he can do what he wants.” “He’s not above the law,” she chided him. “You’re accusing him of breaking the law now?” “You don’t think his behavior is peculiar?” “Of course, but being priggish is not the same as breaking the law.” “I know that,” she sighed, “but his actions are highly unusual. I thought about ordering him in to undergo a medical check-up. For all we know he could be possessed by an alien entity or under mind control or something.” “Or a changeling,” Tol said darkly. Since the Dominion War, such preposterous ideas were now reality. “Or that,” Murakawa nodded. “And it could just be that this is the way he is, a hard charger,” Tol said, “A guy that likes to throw his weight around, rightly or wrongly.” “I would like Morgan’s advice one way or the other, so are you going to do this for me or not?” “You’re that anxious to see the inside of a cell?” “That shouldn’t be a problem with your expertise,” she said. “Flattery will get your everywhere,” his smile was now more genuine. “Star Station Echo is good enough for me,” she replied. Tol gave a curt bow. “Consider it done.” ********************************************************** USS Sutherland Detention Center “I don’t see how you can be so calm about this captain?” Commander Lavelle was on his feet, pacing the cell, making it seem smaller than it was. Major Laxx had dumped Shelby, Lavelle, and Sito all in the same cell, which didn’t sit well with the captain. Not that she didn’t want the company, but it indicated to her that the Bolian was anticipating saving the other cells for more members of her crew. And guessing how her crew might react once the news of her imprisonment became widespread, Shelby couldn’t blame him. Until then, she had decided to bide her time. She sat on the room’s one bench, her attention switching between Lavelle and the dour Petty Officer Triese. Triese was at a standing console, performing her duties while also keeping an eye on them. Every time she made eye contact with the Orion-Vulcan hybrid, the woman broke the connection, shame evident etched even into her normally neutral features. “What do you expect me to do Sam?” Shelby asked calmly, “Defy the admiral’s orders? We’re talking about the C-n-C here. Was I supposed to instigate a mutiny? Doing so would put everyone’s career on this ship in jeopardy, if not their very lives. As it stands now, at worst there will be just three careers ruined, though I intend to call in all the favors I got left to insure that nothing severe happens to you or Jaxa.” “Don’t do me any favors,” The slender Bajoran simmered. “I’ll stand by my actions.” “So will I,” Sam huffed. “Admiral Grace and that goon Laxx were out of line.” “Maybe so, but the admiral is also a superior officer. He was within his rights.” “But he wasn’t right,” Lavelle charged. “Right enough, I suppose,” Shelby said. Sam clenched his fist and turned toward the invisible force field keeping them in the cell. For a split second, the captain feared he might strike it. But Lavelle kept control. “Calm down Sam, that’s an order.” “The commander is correct,” Sito added, her voice seething. Shelby looked at her with alarm, concerned for the younger woman’s mental state. It had taken her several years and a lot of therapy to get to this point, she would hate for it to all unravel now. “We must do something.” “What we will do,” Shelby said, in a tone that brooked no debate, “is wait; we have to be patience, get control of our emotions, and expect the wheel to turn our way again, because the wheel always turns,” she said, looking at Triese. The woman quickly looked away again. “Always.” *********************************************************************
Ok, so we'v got a lead on who may be responsible for the terrorist attack but no inkling yet on motivation. No doubt our intrepid reporter will have a role to play in getting us some answers. I like the fact that the Bajoran Kai is in love with a Cardassian woman. Nothing like a taboo relationship within the halls of power. This is bound to spell trouble for these genuine lovers and their respective people. I also agree with Shelby's approach to bide her time and not to do something rash. I could think of a few other captains who may not have hesitated to escalate this situation. Say about the party captain what you will, she's got a cool head on those shoulders.
CeJay, Are you sure we have a lead on who did the attack? After introducing Illiana in this story I was almost in danger of forgetting her, so I'm glad she's on the scene of this tragedy to help out or make things worse, she is in that gray area after all. Glad you liked the scenes between the Kai and Dulcett. I've seriously neglected the DS9-based characters, and it's taken me a while to revisit them. I liked this scene because I think it's one where I'm finally getting a feel for both of them and why they are together. Shelby is a pretty cool customer. Plus it would pay her little good when both Sam and Jaxa are way too emotional right now. She doesn't want to add to that. Even if she's not in command, Sutherland is still her ship, and its crew is still hers, so she can bide a little time, waiting for Grace to over reach. And besides what's the alternative? Staging a mutiny? ************************************************************* USS Sutherland Observation Lounge Naomi Harrison tugged at her collar, the turtleneck suddenly felt like it was constricting her throat. The extra pip felt heavy, and unwelcome, which was ironic since she had dreamed of this day; but of course she had never expected it to come under such circumstances. Naomi had pondered rejecting the offer, but knew she couldn’t. If anything, the crew needed someone they could trust more than ever in the command circle, and they also needed an advocate or intermediary between them and Sutherland’s new masters. “It looks good on you,” Captain Haas said, with an appraising gaze, “Lt. Commander Harrison,” she said, her smile widening. “I know this is sudden, but don’t fret about earning it; I’ve perused your record, this promotion was in the offing anyway.” “Thank you sir,” Harrison said. “I-uh, don’t know what to say.” “Then say nothing,” Haas replied, “That way it’ll keep you out of trouble.” Her nervous laughter quickly morphed into a glum expression. “I know this is abrupt, and I know the crew, yourself included, have a lot of questions about the flag admiral and me, but trust me, I will be as honest with you as I can, and I will not put this vessel in unnecessary danger, even if the admiral commands it.” “Permission to speak freely captain?” “Granted,” Haas said with a brusque nod. “I won’t allow you to put this ship into needless danger,” Harrison declared. Naomi was a little surprised by the captain’s reaction. The laughter was heartier, “I knew I chose wisely. Now, let’s get to work.” **************************************************************** Starfleet Command Earth Federation Defense Minister Philip Shelby stormed into the Security Advisor’s office. He stomped past the flummoxed receptionist and stared down two massive security guards, parting them like an Andorian ice cutter. The immediate object of his ire was sitting calmly at her desk, waiting for him. She held a glass of brandy, native to her homeworld in hand, with another half-filled glass for him. “Philip,” Security Advisor Bazka said with a weary smile, “What took you so long?” “Now is not the time for levity,” he forced himself not to shout at the red hued Saurian. “Why was I kept out of the loop on this?” “I am curious how you found out, even though Admiral Grace had ordered radio silence?” Bazka probed. He had found out from Rear Admiral Bateson, who couched his slipping the information to Philip, in a question about sending nearby Border Service ships to assist the Sutherland. Bateson had also told him that Grace had instituted a communications blockade aboard the ship. The one thing the wily Border Dog hadn’t revealed was exactly how he got around the blockade. “Please,” Shelby snorted. “My space boots have collected far more stardust on them than you or Grace combined.” Bazka shrugged. “Fair enough.” “You haven’t answered my question,” Shelby took up position in front of the unfazed Saurian, folding his arms and tapping one foot. Bazka took a sip from her glass and pointed to the one she had poured to him. “Sit down, take a sip and take the edge off.” “I’m not here for social hour Bazka,” he intoned. The woman sighed, “Very well then. Your reaction here at this moment, in my office, is all the answer you need for why you were not informed. I was half concerned that you would pull this stunt at the Palais, and had informed Genestra to be on the lookout for you.” “I can’t believe the President was okay with this?” Philip said, losing some of his momentum. “I doubt President Satie even knows, but our good Mr. Genestra likes to poke his mind into everything.” “This can’t stand,” Shelby demanded. “Elizabeth…Captain Shelby should be reinstated immediately. There was no grounds for Admiral Grace to first remove her and then place her in the brig, no grounds!” His relationship with Elizabeth had been rocky for far too long and there were times when he had questioned her worthiness to command, but Elizabeth had proven him wrong time and again. Even though he hadn’t found the words to admit that, he hadn’t been able to get over his own pride to offer her an olive branch, she was still his daughter, and a damn fine captain, even if she didn’t do things the way he wanted…most of the time. Philip knew how hard it was to make captain and how an incident like this could cost Shelby command of a starship for the rest of her career, and that would be akin to a death sentence. Even though he had at times stood in her way, he wasn’t going to let his daughter be railroaded. “Listen, Admiral Grace informed me that the record of this kerfuffle will be expunged. He only took such action due to the drastic response needed in wake of the kidnapping, and now it seems that has been shunted to the side.” “What do you mean?” Shelby asked, his glower intensifying. Anger had walled him off from the rest of the galaxy as he teleported back to Earth to confront Bazka and whoever else knew about Grace’s abuse of power. He had cut himself off from his aides and all other external stimuli. “You haven’t heard about the bombing,” Bazka said, realizing dawn in her bulbous eyes. She shook her scaly, hairless head. “There was another terrorist incident, this one much bigger, much worse, on Prime.” “My God what happened?” Philip asked, forcing himself to put his daughter’s trouble on the backburner. “The Klaestron embassy was destroyed,” Bazka said, shaking her head again. “We don’t know the casualty count yet, but there are reports that the Acting Premier has been killed from a blast shockwave.” Without asking Shelby picked up the glass of untouched brandy and downed it, the burn down his throat a distant fire. He was now focused completely on preventing such an attack on Federation soil. He pulled out his personal communicator and clicked it on. A deluge of messages from his aides scrolled down its screen. “I-I’ve got to go,” he said. “Yeah, I’m sure the President will want to speak with us shortly,” Bazka added. “This isn’t over between us,” Philip replied as he made his way out the door. Until he completed a security review of his bailiwick Elizabeth was on her on. Unfortunately, for too much of their lives, that was no different than the norm. ********************************************************************
Ok, I like Harrison. She's not the yes-girl I expected her to be and I can respect Haas for not trying to find one. But a clash is only waiting to happen once Grace oversteps his bounds again. I wonder on which side Haas will come down on when things get ugly. After Leyton's coupe one can only hope that she has learned from the past. Didn't expect Shelby's dad to come to her defense here. But good to know that family loyalty trumps paternal grudges.