Star Trek: Intrepid Inevitability Historical note: This adventure takes place in 2374, approximately two weeks after the events of Preemptive Maneuvers. Chapter 1 A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it. ---unknown Time and I against any other two. ---Baltasar Gracian Starfleet Judicial Building Hall 84 Alpha "And what was Captain Aubrey's response after you ordered him to pass through occupied Betazoid space?" Edwardo Gonsalez was asking. The prosecuting officer was a Hispanic man in his late sixties, and one could say everything about him was sharp; from his piercing voice to his angular features, which included a beak-like nose. Vice Admiral Edward Jellico answered with a tone that was both formal and bland, the default voice he trucked out for any type of debriefing. "He said that he would not be able to follow my order. That under no circumstances would he try to use the alien matrix aboard his ship to attack the Dominion." The prosecutor raised his eyebrows with timing that was perfectly orchestrated, as though Jellico’s statement was an unexpected reveal. “And then what happened?” The admiral kept his eyes on the Federation pennant that adorned the far side of the courtroom, his body a rigid illustration of military posture that harkened back to the days of bayonets and gunpowder. "At that point he became belligerent and insubordinate. He insulted me personally.” “Can you be more specific, sir?” “He called me a ‘stupid ass’. Because of his insubordination and conduct unbecoming, I felt it necessary to relieve him of his command. He then cut off communication and took his ship out of the area.” “So apparently, he disobeyed that order as well, remaining in command of his ship?” “That is correct.” The prosecutor had been making a slow circuit of the courtroom. He paused at the defendant's table long enough to drop a look of condemnation on Aubrey, before walking back to his table. "Thank you, Admiral. No more questions." Aubrey's attorney was on her feet at once. Nyela Sharif was a lean woman of African descent. She was in her early thirties and had short-cropped hair that showed off the curves of her skull. She paraded towards the stand, PADD held before her like an old detective character with an oversized magnifying glass. "Admiral, is it accurate to say that you placed a great deal of trust in Captain Aubrey’s judgement?” “I did prior to this incident, yes.” “I should say so. You appointed him Squadron Commander for the Excelsior Wing in Taskforce Tango. And you agreed with his plan to use a Genesis facsimile to destroy the Dominion shipyard within the Kokala Nebula. Isn’t that right?” Jellico answered again in the affirmative. "You further agreed with him that he should take his ship to Archer IV, to allow the ‘Inth’ aliens to finish their evolution and thereby save the galaxy as we know it?” Gonsalez exhaled with appreciable irritation. When Jellico answered “yes”, she pushed forward in a rush. “Then sir, I’m at a loss to understand why you didn’t trust him when he advised you that using the Inth against Dominion forces was a bad idea. After all, he had direct communication with the species. Wouldn’t he be in a position to know the best course at that point?” Jellico’s cheeks were beginning to color. “That was my prerogative, young lady.” “You don’t allow subordinates to disagree with you, isn’t that right?” “No, that isn’t right. They’re allowed to disagree. But they are not allowed to disobey. They don’t have the right to disrupt the chain of command. Particularly not during a crisis. You’d understand that if you had ever served anywhere outside of an office building.” Nyela shrugged away the brickbat. “I would argue that they not only have the right, but a duty to disobey, especially when their CO has a history of issuing questionable orders. I believe you were advised against committing Tango Fleet when your forces were outnumbered, isn’t that correct, admiral?” “Objection! Admiral Jellico is not on trial here.” “How many lives were lost during your attempt to retake Betazed, admiral? It was in the hundreds, wasn’t it?” "That's enough, counselor." The Starfleet trial judge interrupted. "Prosecution is correct. Jellico is not on trial here today, Captain Aubrey is. The objection is sustained." Gonsalez restrained the urge to smirk. Nyela had requested a trial Judge, rather than the customary panel usually assigned in a court martial, likely because it was more familiar territory for her, as a civilian attorney. She might end up regretting that decision. Judge Andre Dubois’ reputation was for possessing a ying-yang balance of both intolerance and objectivity. "May we approach the bench?" She walked over; already assuming the answer would be a "yes". When Trial Counsel and the defense attorney were both beneath the judge's bench, His Honor tapped a nearby control panel, activating a nullification field, making it impossible for anyone to hear their conversation. Nyela jumped into her dissertation immediately. "Your Honor, I’m trying to establish that the admiral issued a bad order and that my client was justified in disobeying it. I’m supporting that by showing the admiral has a history of issuing bad orders and becomes combative whenever he’s challenged.” The prosecutor opened his mouth, but the judge raised his index finger to stop the rebuttal before it became airborne. To Nyela he said, "I figured that out all by myself, counselor. But I will not allow you to drag a Starfleet admiral through the mud." "If it pleases the court, I would-----" "It very much does not please the court, Ms. Sharif. I understand that you're a civilian officer who rarely practices in Starfleet matters. Therefore, you may be under the belief that a character assassination on the admiral will muddy the waters so as to in some way mitigate the charges against your client. And maybe that kind of spectacle works outside of these walls, but I won't stand for it in my courtroom. Now, you will confine your questions to only those facts as they relate to direct causality. Am I clear?" “Your Honor, with respect, how can I manage a proper defense under those restrictions?” “Here’s an idea just off the top of my head: you can still argue your client’s state of mind, reasoning, and motivations, and all without attacking the admiral. Beyond that, it’s your job to figure out your strategy, not the court’s.” She took a lengthy, studious look at the proud officer on the witness stand, remembering again just how tight was the loyalty that bound this organization together---a loyalty made all the more resilient by the peril now facing the Federation. She deliberated for just a second longer, before deciding on the better part of valor. “Then at this time, I have no more questions for the admiral.” “Outstanding.” The judge excused Jellico. But the words had barely left his mouth before Nyela was on to her next order of business. “What is it now, counselor?” He sighed resignedly, upon hearing she had a new request. “One of the charges against Captain Aubrey is that he also refused an order from his chief medical officer, who relieved him of command, due to medical concerns. I’m moving to have that charge dismissed.” “On what grounds?” “On the grounds that the results of her medical exam are sealed. Starfleet has refused to release them. If they can’t be verified, then his CMO’s order should be considered invalid.” “That’s ridiculous, your Honor. The order is valid on its face. Doctor Kella’s competency results are on record and were witnessed by two senior officers, whose depositions are also on record. That the details of her exam were redacted is immaterial.” Nyela looked at him as if her distinguished colleague had just made a vulgar joke while attending a wake. “’Immaterial’? According to law, my client has the right to hear the details of all charges and specifications brought against him. It’s not his fault that Starfleet has classified the results of Doctor Kella’s medical exam and refused to reveal them citing wartime security measures.” “He already knows the results. He was present at their disclosure. He only has to confirm that those results support the doctor’s order. It’s constructive knowledge, pure and simple.” “Mr. Gonsalez knows better than that. It can’t be considered constructive knowledge if the knowledge in question is hidden. If I may remind the court, my client is forbidden to disclose those results as well. And I submit that even if he weren’t under such an order, the court couldn’t compel him to incriminate himself. The burden of proof falls to Trial Counsel, not Defense.” “Wrap it up, Ms. Sharif.” “Yes, your Honor. I’m arguing that Doctor Kella’s exam was the basis for relieving my client, under 104 Section C. If justification for her medical order can’t or won’t be produced, then your Honor should dismiss this particular charge.” The prosecutor rolled his eyes. “Really, counselor…you’re implying his own chief medical officer was lying? And in front of witnesses no less? To what end? Doctor Kella and your client have been close friends for years. What possible motivation would she have?” “Thank you for making my point. Because of their close relationship, it’s all the more important to see the hard evidence. Friendships can turn sour and are especially suspect when two parties work together professionally, where one is subordinate to the other.” “Your Honor---” But the judge held up his palm. “I’m afraid you walked into that one, Mr. Gonsalez. I’m granting the dismissal, with the proviso that it can be presented again if the medical evidence is produced that supports the charge.” Nyela grinned. Gonsalez downshifted from “battle mode” to apathy. He was content to let Nyela have little victories if it gave her a false sense of accomplishment. Her client would still answer the remaining charges, which carried decidedly more weight. His annoyance lay with the trial itself, because in his view none of this was necessary. The facts of this case were self-evident. She had entered a plea of not guilty, citing matters of extenuation, and it was those matters specifically that led her to insist on a trial. No doubt she had talked Aubrey into it, so she could grandstand. Sadly, he had expected nothing less from a civilian attorney. She was obviously too self-absorbed to see the disservice she was visiting upon her client. It was a shame. If Defense had been amicable to a pretrial agreement, Gonsalez would have been happy to work with Admiral Jellico, the convening authority, to seek clemency for Aubrey. But instead, she had elected to waste the court’s time. Because of that, Gonsalez would now recommend that Aubrey face the maximum punishment allowed under the law. *** Not long after, the court recessed for the day. Nyela gathered up her PADDs and waited for the room to clear out. "I need to go back to my office for a while to discuss strategy with my staff. Then you and I will need to meet later today. I’m putting you on the stand tomorrow, so we’ll need to prep." Jason Aubrey responded with a barely perceptible nod of his head. He was a man in his late thirties, although anybody looking at him today would notice his years seemed a burden twice their weight. And despite his immaculately combed head of dark blond hair, piercing blue eyes and smart white dress uniform, she noticed he had none of the fire present since yesterday. Something was off about him…a maddening disharmony she couldn’t put her finger on. He folded his hands on the table, while avoiding her eyes. "I'd like to thank you for trying so vigilantly to defend me." His English accent was as easy on the ears as always but lacked the energy that usually idled under the surface. "It's my job." She said, then jostled his arm irritably. “Hey, this isn’t over yet. I need to know you’re still in this fight with me.” “Yes. Sure.” “Are you sure you’re sure? Because you sound like a guy who’s already given up. You weren’t like this yesterday. What’s going on?” He roused his charm long enough to flick a half-smile at her. “I’m fine. Maybe I’m just weary of the battle. Exhausted from having to constantly fight…the Dominion, Starfleet, even my former crew. Just so tired of it all.” She looped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a tender squeeze. “Go home and rest. I'll meet with you this afternoon when I get back from Somalia. Remember, don’t discuss the case once you’re outside. The media’s been salivating to get the details on this trial. Your voice could be picked up by a drone---and as you know, those damn things are too small to see with the naked eye.” "Don't worry, I'm pretty much done talking these days." "Unless I say so," She quipped, missing the significance of his comment. As they walked out of the courtroom, two Starfleet security guards took up positions on both sides of the captain, escorting him down the hallway. She began to push through the crowd of myriad court officers and Starfleet personnel that filled the hallway, her client and his two guards right behind her. Stepping closer, Aubrey said, "Nyela, thank you again for everything you tried to do. Please remember that none of this was your fault." She scowled, no longer just concerned, but fully pissed off by his defeatist tone. She turned to tell him to put a sock in it---that she expected him to show up for his own defense. She would further remind him that he was a Starfleet captain, that he was the man who had brought his ship and crew through countless battles and adversities. He needed to fight every bit as hard now as he ever had before. As it turned out, she got the chance to say none of those things. Life and death situations often play out in a matter of seconds. Yet, what occurs can often seem to take much longer, events unfolding like a bad dream, each scene crawling forward in agonizing detail. In this case, what transpired took barely a minute. Later, her mind would neatly organize events into the following chronology: One: Nyela turns to see Aubrey inexplicably struggling with one of the security guards. She is dumbstruck. The scene appears to make no sense. Two: Aubrey clobbers the guard with a back fist strike to his temple. The guard collapses. Three: People gasp in surprise. The second security officer yells, "Freeze!" He then immediately fires on the captain. Four: The beam hits Aubrey's lower abdomen. He grunts, then makes a clumsy attempt to return fire with the weapon he had appropriated from the first security guard. He misses. The second guard shoots him again and Aubrey falls to his knees but remains conscious. Five: Aubrey fires back, hitting guard number two, who bounces into the wall behind him, before slumping to the floor unconscious. Six: The captain shoves his phaser into his chest, simultaneously increasing the power setting to maximum. Seven: Nyela starts forward but trips over someone whose legs tangle with her own in the commotion. She hits the ground butt-first, while trying to think of something, anything to say that might stop what is about to happen next. She is an attorney, and glib dialogue is second nature to her. But nothing comes. For the first time, oratory fails her. Eight: Aubrey activates the phaser and is instantly awash in a hellish light. All too quickly, the light dissolves away, taking him with it. A very faint aroma of charred flesh is left behind. Shouts. Chaos. People crying out in alarm and confusion. Through it all, as the sea of turmoil ebbs and flows around her, Nyela Sharif can only sit and stare at the empty space that seconds ago had held her client, a human being---a decorated Starfleet officer. It is a very long time before she regains her feet or her wits.
One: Excited to see the return if one of my favorite fanfic series. Two: Legal drama is in vogue right now, and I really liked the focus on the court proceedings and the guest characters here. Three: As evident, loved your literary device to convey the unexpected events in this chapter. Four: What the hell just happened?
The story we've all been asking for and waiting for... Hopefully not over with before it really gets underway... Thanks!! rbs
An excellent opener, but also seemingly... the conclusion?! Given that a crew I know bumps into Aubrey later in the decade, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that all isn't as it seems here. Unless this is an AU... Unless time travel is involved... Unless Q's having a snit... Unless...
Chapter 2 Aubrey’s journey back to consciousness was a gradual process. In fact, it felt more like emerging from a daydream than it did a true awakening. All he knew was that at some point he noticed that he was staring at the gray trappings of a room about seven meters square with a single door in front of him. He was seated in a cushioned chair with a tall headrest that was surprisingly comfortable. With some alarm, he realized that his arms and legs were bound tightly to the furniture---black straps that felt as unrelenting as metal. The room was dim, but there was sufficient light to view his surroundings. As it turned out, there wasn’t much to look at. Other than the chair he was in, the room was bare. He twisted his head but couldn’t see behind him very well due to the headrest, but he had the firm impression that he was alone. The first order of business was to gauge his health. He wiggled in the chair to see if any injuries would announce themselves and was relieved to find no pain or major discomfort. As far as he could tell, he was uninjured. How he got into this unhappy state of affairs was another matter. His last memory was reading a PADD in the Starfleet judicial building’s arboretum, while awaiting his attorney. She was preparing a new argument that she had wanted to discuss with him… And now he was staring at a pair of beige doors. How much time had passed between those two moments? He didn’t know. The twilight he had zoned out of was like a missing time experience, leaving him uncertain about whether he had actually been unconscious for that period or not. There was a dull hiss as the doors parted to admit two men, who walked briskly forward and stopped in front of him. The first man was portly, with gray hair and an equally gray beard-mustache combination. He was holding a lit cigar in one hand. His companion looked Vulcan. He was slim and clean shaven and seemed to favor the conservative bowl-cropped bangs that were common among his people. He appeared young, but of course, with Vulcans it was hard to tell. The typical signs of old age associated with most humanoids didn’t manifest in them until much later in life. “Welcome back, my dear boy.” said the human, with what sounded to Aubrey’s ear like an exaggerated southern drawl. “You can call me Mase. My good friend here is Tasok. How are you feeling?” “Quite well, thank you. There’s nothing more refreshing than being drugged, kidnapped, and tied up. And how are you fine gentlemen today?” A toothy smile broke through Mase’s facial hair. “I’ll answer your obvious question first. Me and my associate work for an organization whose purpose is to protect the Federation. Regrettably, that sometimes means operating outside the conventional bounds of protocol.” “Ah…so the urban legends are true?” He eyed them bemusedly. “But tell me, where are those smashing black jumpsuits I’ve heard so much about?” Mase glanced down at his dark blue shirt and vest with matching trousers. “Now I do say that’s not a good look for me. I’ve put on a few pounds.” Tasok, who wore a similar ensemble, sans vest, simply glared at him. Aubrey gave the Vulcan his full attention. “Hello there, Sunshine. If I were a betting man I’d say you’ve either abandoned the teachings of Surak or you’re just a Romulan having a bad day.” Tasok sneered. “Save your wit, captain. I’m not interested in your adolescent attempts to bait me.” Mase took a long drag on his cigar and then exhaled a cloud towards the ceiling. “Oh now, he’s just following his Starfleet training is all. You know…if captured, stall for time and learn as much as you can about your adversaries. Establish a rapport. Determine a means of escape, if at all possible, just in case help never arrives. Although I must say you haven’t done such a good job with the rapport part.” Aubrey grinned mischievously. “My apologies. I think I missed that day. But thank you, it certainly sounds like good advice.” Something like morose drifted over Mase’s features. “Except no one is coming for you lad, because everyone thinks you’re already dead.” “And it was very public. You vaporized yourself in front of numerous witnesses. It made for an engaging spectacle.” Tasok’s conspicuous glee indicated a personal hand in the operation. “And how did you manage that? A clone? A lookalike on a suicide mission? Some kind of replicant?” “Don’t concern yourself.” Aubrey’s jaw clenched---the only indication of the anger he was suppressing. “Your plan isn’t tactically sound, you know. You just gave away that you’re going to kill me, while at the same time making it clear you want something from me. It would have been better to withhold that information to give false hope. Now that I know of my impending demise, what’s my incentive for cooperating?” A Santa Claus chuckle rumbled out of Mase. “Because my dear boy…what you’re about to experience is no pedestrian level interrogation, believe you me. So now…don’t you fret your little head about how to resist. That simply won’t be an option.” “You could just ask me what you want to know. If you really do have the Federation’s best interests at heart, then who knows? I might be forthcoming.” Tasok was breathing hard with impatience. “Mase, enough of this insipid banter! Bring in the other and let us begin.” “Patience, my friend. You know, it occurs to me that you really should go back to meditating. It might do you a whole wide world of good.” He retrieved an antique pocket watch from his vest, complete with a gold chain and clasp and clicked it open. “Now it just so happens we have us a little time to kill if you’ll pardon my word choice. Our associate is still preparing. And I think our good captain deserves at least a few answers. After all, he has also protected the Federation, in his own limited way. And is now about to protect it again by making the ultimate sacrifice.” “Humf!” Tasok grunted in disgust. The mention of an “associate” who would soon enter the room wasn’t good news. But Aubrey chose not to pursue the subject. Mase would likely just spew out some vague double talk, anyway. And he was more interested in whatever the man was about to share with him, as it was likely much more valuable information. Mase blew smoke meditatively, watching it curl in the air before him as he gathered his thoughts. “Where to begin? Let’s see now…to make a long story as short as possible, I will start with this. There is a unique alien device out there…something that could change the balance of power in the quadrant to favor anyone who possesses it. We and other interested parties have been chasing it for decades.” “And you think I know where this thing is?” “All in good time, my boy. So, after years of futile searching by just about everyone who’s anyone, our mysterious device finally turned up four years ago on the planet Eteron. Unfortunately for us, Starfleet Intelligence also became aware of its presence. We both sent teams to recover it and well…ahem, the details are a trifle embarrassing, so I’ll just say that SI won that particular contest. The device has been with them ever since.” “Imbeciles who have no idea of the forces they’re meddling with.” Tasok groused. “In their fumbling attempts to analyze the device, they could bring ruin upon our universe.” Aubrey raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I can assure you that Mr. Tasok is not overstating the danger, captain. Not at all. The device in question is part of something enormous and profound. It could even lead us into dangers beyond our reality, were it to be used by the wrong hands. That is why we need to get it back, so it can be secured safely with our experts.” “’Get it back’? So you’ve had this thing before? It sounds to me like your hands are no safer than anyone else’s. “ There was silence. Aubrey sighed. “Right, then. I’m flattered, but if you want me to steal if for you, I’m afraid you’ve vastly overestimated my abilities.” Mase tapped on his cigar, sending a collection of ashes to the floor as Tasok looked on disapprovingly. “Let’s not be obtuse, captain. Physical theft is out of the question, of course. Even our moles in SI can’t recover it, it’s too heavily guarded.” “Then I’m at a loss to know how I can help.” Tasok moved closer, his voice tightening in anger as he spoke, as if proximity to Aubrey was a trigger for his rage. “The actual device exists within an interspatial domain. What SI has is a companion mechanism that can summon it. What they don’t know, is that there exists a way to summon the device even without it.” Mase tapped Aubrey lightly on the head. “That information resides in your noggin. You saw the process done as a child, but that memory was taken from you. Now it’s been given back. We are gathered here today to extract it.” “The nanites.” “Yes indeed. The ones your good ship’s doctor discovered a short time ago. Planted within you to restore your true memories.” “So, you were behind that.” “I wish we could take credit, as it was such a marvelous feat of engineering. No, I’m afraid The Competition beat us to it. That’s why we had to move fast before they got to you first.” Aubrey squinted up at him. Mase gestured dismissively. “An organization that competes against our interests. They’re not of Starfleet nor any other official party. They have no moniker, so we just call them ‘The Competition’.” He opened his pocket watch again. “Ah! Our associate should be ready by now. Sorry captain, but I’m afraid that’s all the time we have today.” “Just a moment. Your fairy tale explains why you abducted me, but you haven’t told me why I have to die. You owe me a few more minutes, Mase. After everything, you owe me that.” Tasok loomed over Aubrey. It was clear the angry Vulcan would have twisted the captain’s head off right then and there, if he had his druthers. “Shut your mouth, human. It is you who owe us.” Mase held up a hand, indicating he wanted Tasok to back away. Tasok did so, but his murderous glare remained tethered to Aubrey the whole time. Mase chewed on his cigar for a few moments, as he pondered his captive through a smokey haze. To Aubrey, the wait was agonizing. “Mr. Tasok, please advise our associate that we need three more minutes.” “He’s obviously stalling you! We should begin the procedure at once.” The other man slowly withdrew the cigar from his mouth and affixed his partner with a menacing stare, all remnants of his “southern gentleman” persona now gone. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the ranking agent. Do as I’ve instructed and do it now.” Tasok made profane remarks under his breath as he fingered a hidden communicator in his shirt. Mase checked his pocket watch again. “So then…why must you die? I suppose you are entitled to that. Although, I must say you could have answered your own question if you weren’t actively resisting your true memories.” “If you say so.” “It’s because of Ragnarök.” Aubrey’s eyes went blank. “That rings a bell, doesn’t it? You can try to push away those new recollections all you want, but my friend, they are here to stay.” It was then that the captain heard the desperate cry of a child. It came from far away, barely within the audible range: No! Lemmee go, you son of a bitch! Help! Somebody HELP ME! He turned his head, trying to determine where the plea was coming from, but it was too faint to pinpoint. He burned up at Mase with vile judgement. “You’re abducting children, now? You pathetic bastard.” Mase chortled good naturedly. “Son, I’m afraid any voices you’re listening to are all in your head.” It came again, quiet yet shrill, from everywhere and nowhere. No! Lemmee go, you son of a bitch! Help! Somebody HELP ME! He closed his eyes, trying to still the outcry. “Ragnarök.” He repeated and felt a great chill slither down his spine. With it came a flood of memories that were pushing against his mind. He shoved back, refusing to dignify that which could not be true. “Exactly right. You see, you’re not exactly from ‘round these parts, son. Your presence in the continuum is like the splash from a rock on a still pond. Death and chaos follow in your wake, not to put too fine a point on it. The only reason we’ve allowed you to live this long was in hopes of acquiring the device. A risk, but one we considered worthwhile.” Aubrey laughed uneasily, attempting to shake off the mental aberrations. “I was hoping for something better.” “You’ve always felt it, deep inside…haven’t you? That something wasn’t quite right?” “Maybe you should direct that question at yourself, given your line of work.” “Tell me…what are the odds that of all the souls in creation, it just happened to be you who awakened the Inth, one of the greatest dangers to the galaxy we’ve ever faced? And wasn’t it your presence that led to the Gorn civil conflict that ended with millions dead? And I do believe it was you who killed that Changeling eleven years ago, setting a series of events into motion that led directly to the Dominion War. And then of course, there was that unfortunate business on the Guadalajara…” “Don’t forget about the Spanish Inquisition and the common cold.” “Your bravado is as phony as it is polished, captain. Now then, considering the disruptive influence you have on history, I think you’ll agree that it’s better for everyone if you don’t continue. The good Lord only knows what new horrors you might have unleashed upon the Federation.” “You stupid ass. I was about to be drummed out of Starfleet, remember? My ‘disruptive influence’ would have been down to zero after that. So, forgive me if I don’t buy into your morbid little fantasy.” Mase threw his head back as booming laughter erupted from his throat. “Son, I don’t think you understand that what we are dealing with here is inevitability. Whether you’re an obscure dilithium miner toiling deep inside Aratos, or president of the Federation makes no difference.” He leaned into Aubrey and patted his shoulder. “Destiny will find you. Destiny will always find you. And each time it does, the future trembles.” Aubrey snapped his head forward, smashing it into the bridge of Mase’s nose. He heard the nose break with a satisfying “crunch” sound as Mase stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, blood gushing from his wounded face. He yanked a handkerchief from his vest and pressed it against his bloodied nose. “You sub uba bitch!” Came the muffled curse. The captain winked playfully. “A little going away present, in honor of everything you’re doing for the Federation.” Tasok’s attack was so swift, Aubrey didn’t know it happened until the Vulcan’s hands were clamped on both sides of his head like a vice. His face was a composite of hatred, as though he were an angry war god who was about to mete out punishment to a blasphemer. “I should end you right now! You are an abomination!” The pain was horrific and became worse as Tasok began to squeeze the captain’s skull. “Stop! Get away from him! We still need him alive you damn fool!” Mase struggled to his feet and wobbled over to grab one of Tasok’s arms. The two men fell back, doing a clumsy dance. Tasok yanked his arm out of Mase’s grasp and the two exchanged a series of hushed barks, trying to keep their conflict out of earshot. They eventually left the room, taking their low-volume argument with them. Aubrey was alone again, his only company a pounding headache from his near skull crushing experience. But he didn’t remain alone for long. The doors sighed open, and someone new entered the room, the so called “associate” that Mase had mentioned. It was a bald, somewhat reptilian like alien, and from a species he instantly recognized. His presence made Aubrey go pale with dread. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here. He thought, with gallows humor. It was a Lethean, a species that possessed a very powerful and very destructive form of telepathy. Victims of their invasive procedures were often left brain dead. The chair’s headrest slid down and the Lethean drew up to him, affixing two small, rectangular devices to his temples. Aubrey began singing “Show me the way to go home” with notes that were high and off key. The Lethean paused momentarily, perplexed by the odd behavior. Alas, his tormentor’s initial confusion quickly became amusement. “Your effort is duly noted, captain. But it’s based on a misconception. You’re not the first one who’s tried to keep me out of their head with music. It doesn’t work. Especially not against someone like me.” The Lethean grasped his head in both hands and there was a sudden jolt of electric current that made Aubrey’s facial muscles spasm uncontrollably. It was excruciating, but what came next was far worse---the sensation of being impaled and suffocated all at the same time. He was being raped by another mind that forced its way into his own. “Now captain, let’s go back. What’s old is new again. Show me the secret I need from your past.” --------------- “You could have easily killed him with your strength.” Mase scolded, head back, while Tasok worked on his nose with a medical instrument. “It was an act, to keep our captive off balance.” Mase flinched as the cartilage in his nose regenerated. “Malarkey. It might have started that way, but then it became real anger. It makes me wonder if I made a mistake bringing you in on this.” Tasok stepped back to evaluate his work. “His presence is disconcerting.” He admitted, his tone dropping into irritation. “It might have influenced my behavior, but the effect was marginal. I assure you that I was in control at all times.” “You had better be. This will be your only warning.” Tasok flipped an eyebrow in annoyance. “Perhaps we should be discussing your behavior. Aubrey is a dangerous man, even in captivity. You knew this but you allowed yourself to become complacent.” He tucked the regenerator back into a medkit. “It’s all those theatrics you insist upon. They’re an unwise distraction.” Mase touched his nose gingerly. “Lad, in our business there are times you have to blend in, but there are also times you may have to command a room. I dare say both are valuable skillsets. And the latter is something you should consider more fully. That is, if you want better field assignments in the future.” The Vulcan grunted. “I’m comfortable with my ‘skillsets’ as they are.” He turned expectantly to a large monitor that occupied one wall of the small conference room. “How long will this take?” His partner sat down and slipped a new cigar from his vest. “Minutes, hours or maybe days. You of all people should know that memory extraction isn’t an exact science.” “That’s true. If only my own abilities were equal to the task. However, forced mind melds have a low success rate where precision is needed. I only regret that we have to destroy his mind by using the Lethean.” “Never fear, my friend.” He waived at the monitor. “Everything the Lethean sees, we will see, as it all gets recorded for prosperity. And then I promise you our good captain will get the merciful ending he deserves.” “Indeed.” Tasok sat next to him as the monitor began flickering to life. Mase snickered. “I should have brought popcorn.” Only Tasok’s ears were fine enough to resolve noise coming from the other side of the wall. It was the sound of Jason Aubrey crying out in misery.
This is when I would break in with a rescue party, guys. Who drew the ticket for rescuing Aubrey this week?
My bet says no cavalry just yet... Galen4 loves tormenting Aubrey, which is why I was fairly certain he wasn't dead... Always a fate much worse awaiting him... Thanks!! rbs
Nice misdirection in the opening chapter is revealed as an insidious plot by the Men formerly in Black. And they are after a big prize. Awesome shout out to Quantum Divergence. Love it. Aubrey’s in a real pickle here and right now I don’t see an obvious way to get out of it. Especially not with his mind still in one piece.
Well, Aubrey's in the shit again... is it Tuesday already? This time it seems Jason's attracted the attention of Section 31. He's a popular fellow, so much so that just about every secretive organization and cabal makes a run at him at one time or another. Unfortunately for all of them, I think the memories and associations in his head are sufficient to destroy everything and everyone, regardless of political affiliation or temporal standing. Great stuff! Let Aubrey know I'll bring the popcorn!
Chapter 3 Rear Admiral Fiadh O’Toole was the current chief of Starfleet Security. She was in her early forties and possessed a robust head of shoulder-length red hair that seemed to color-coordinate with the freckles sprinkled over her fair complexion. She marched out of the wedding reception she had been attending with no small amount of umbrage. Admiral Nonnef had just married his third wife in what for a Denobulan amounted to a shotgun wedding. There were over a thousand guests---many of which represented not just Nonnef’s immediate family, but the hundreds of in-laws associated with all three current wives and various VIP attendees. There were also five bands and dozens of table spreads representing the best food from all over the quadrant. And she had been very much enjoying the food. It was the first time she had eaten all day. Because of the war, her time had been filled with the usual briefings from her division chiefs that oversaw security for both ground and fleet level operations, to say nothing of the endless reports that she had to submit to top brass. On top of that, she had the security preparations for the wedding, which Nonnef had insisted she oversee personally. The option of eating had been off the table, if one could forgive the pun. The Rigelian Thoff casserole was especially delightful. She had finally taken a break and was nodding politely to a guest across the table from her as she shoveled the food into her mouth with a Devil-may-care lack of decorum. Only to be told she had a visitor who urgently needed her attention. For the event, she had set her communicator to receive priority-command level messages only and to block all other parties. Which meant whoever was demanding her attention wasn’t on her urgent list. Who is it? Well tell him to make an appointment. What does he mean it can’t wait? Oh, Goddamiit. Seriously? And so the exchange had gone with the officer who had delivered the unwanted news. As she approached, she saw an Andorian male sitting with rigid attention at a park bench just outside the wedding fence. He bolted to his feet upon her arrival, but she gestured for him to sit back down. It was Lt. Commander Adol, formerly of the starship Intrepid, a person she had recently become acquainted with through several tiers of security debriefings in regard to the Inth crisis. She took the other end of the bench, clutching a napkin full of egg rolls guardedly. “Commander, nice to see you again. But I’m telling you, this had better be important and it had better be brief.” She began crisply. That arrangement was just fine with Adol. In fact, it was his preferred modus operandi. “First of all Ma’am, thank you for seeing me. And I apologize for the interruption.” “Mm-hmm.” She popped an egg roll into her mouth and chewed at him expectantly. “This matter is concerning Captain Aubrey’s suicide. I’ve found a discrepancy with the records, one that I think needs more attention.” “You pulled me out of a wedding reception for a records issue?” She mumbled caustically through her food. “A significant issue, ma’am. The records show Aubrey was hit twice with a level three phaser beam but managed to not only stay conscious, but to then return fire and incapacitate his attacker. That’s flatly impossible.” She downed another egg roll before directing her full attention at him. “Then the records are in error. Did you check the Armory Hub’s data?” “Yes ma’am. Respectfully, I wouldn’t have wasted your time otherwise. They also showed the guard’s phasers were set to level three and discharged at level three. At least at first.” “’At first’?” “After I accessed the records, I was sent a correction by the Hub’s IT Department Chief within an hour, stating that the data I had seen was corrupted by a recent maintenance cycle. The so-called correction indicated a level one stun, not three.” “Hmm. Well, the hub is one of six that are connected to, and monitor, all weapons on Starfleet grounds.” “Yes ma’am. I know where you’re going with this. There are six hubs to make sure an enemy can’t seize control of our armory by compromising just one of them. It also maintains redundancy in case one or more hubs go down. But this hub, number four, was the only one connected to the guard’s weapons that day.” “There was a maintenance cycle on number four, I was briefed on it. And corrupted data from an MC is rare, but not unheard of. I’m still not seeing your concern.” “My concern is that the first records I saw were the correct ones. Someone at the hub altered them after the fact.” Adol watched her mood shift from fall to winter. “That’s a serious accusation to make commander. And you know this how?” The Andorian paused, making an effort to slow his pace. “The Federation News Service drone. It not only recorded the incident visually, but also made detailed scans. It recorded level three hits, not one.” She put her napkin of food aside, feeling annoyed and contrite at the same time. It was little wonder. The security breech by the news service was a sensitive subject for her. She had been off world at the time but as head of Starfleet Security, she still had to own the fax passe. As for the FNS, they had issued a statement apologizing for the breech, saying it was the result of an overzealous reporter. Starfleet had demanded they turn over the recording but by then it was too late. The visual feed had already been circulated throughout the Federation. “You’re telling me the drone was also equipped with top tier scanners? FNS didn’t share that detail with us.” “Yes ma’am. I have a friend at FNS. I asked him for the data.” She rose to her feet, her freckles standing out in crimson relief. “Irish temper” was an unfair myth, but anyone standing before Admiral O’Toole at that moment might have been tempted to think the stereotype had some merit. “Commander Adol, you had unsanctioned contact with the news service?” It was an accusation, masquerading as a question. “That’s a security violation. Serious enough to land you in the stockade.” Adol stood to face her, his antennae bending forward defiantly. “Respectfully, ma’am…but in point of fact, I didn’t share any information with FNS. I simply asked them to give me information. Information that technically was already made public.” She smiled dangerously. “That’s a thin distinction, commander. Very thin. The point is you weren’t authorized. Any unauthorized contact with the media is forbidden for reasons that are obvious. The Inth may be gone but we’re still fighting for our survival. As they used to say in ancient times, ‘loose lips sink ships’.” The Andorian let the threat pass him by. “Ma’am, we may be facing a conspiracy within Starfleet. It would have taken more than one person to alter records without being caught. To say nothing of the oddity surrounding the captain’s suicide. Something is going on, something that could undermine our fight against the Dominion.” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and then shook her head as though trying to ward off an impending headache. “Slow down, commander. Just slow down. Have a seat.” They did so. She stole a few seconds to smooth her tunic as she re-evaluated him from across the bench. “Before we go any further, I’m curious about something. What led you to pursue this in the first place? I was present at your debriefings, and I’ve read your security logs. You weren’t Aubrey’s biggest fan.” “His suicide. It was out of character.” “How can you be so sure? You hadn’t served with him all that long. And people who intend self-harm are very crafty at hiding it, even while suffering from PTSD. They can even defeat our modern psych evaluations if they’re shrewd enough. And Aubrey was about as shrewd as they come.” “I’ll grant you that, ma’am. But when you get to know someone under dire circumstances you’re seeing their core persona. The chaos of life-threating battles are, by their very nature, toxic to pretense or charade. Combat strips a person bare, revealing their naked essence---what my people call the Javsarr. I fought shoulder to shoulder with that man’s Javsarr, and I’m telling you, Jason Aubrey may have been by all accounts a terrible dancer and definitely an insufferable ass, but he would never quit his own life.” Adol had been directing surreptitious glances at her legs while speaking, and not because he was admiring her aesthetics. No, his unspoken mention of her legs was a tactical maneuver, because he knew her current appendages weren’t the ones she had started out with. Before the Dominion War there been a Federation/Klingon war. O’Toole had earned her current rank and position after leading a platoon on Darphaes Prime, to liberate a colony of Federation miners who were desperately guarding a storage of dilithium crystals from a Klingon occupation force. It became fifty-seven hours of sheer hell. Ultimately the mission was a success, and the civilians and their precious cargo were safely evaced. But the success was an expensive one, having cost an entire platoon of Starfleet soldiers, half of her own company…and her legs. His remarks about combat and the purity of spirit therein resonated with her, as they were meant to. The commander is a shrewd customer himself. She considered wilily. And an officer who obviously placed the Federation over his career. She noted that he hadn’t so much as flinched at her accusations. That quirky love-hate relationship he had with Aubrey was making more sense to her now. It was possible they had more in common than either of them had wanted to admit. “There are other explanations, you know. Aubrey could have treated himself with something to better withstand phaser fire. We’ve been experimenting with such drugs ourselves. And the altered records might only represent a single dishonest officer.” “It still wouldn’t make sense, ma’am.” Adol blunted. “There are any number of ways he could have killed himself in private. Why pick an inopportune moment that involved winning a physical contest? And that would have depended on treating himself with a black-market drug to be successful? And why would someone feel compelled to give me false information, if there was a reasonable explanation?” “Easy, commander. Don’t get your antennae in a tangle. I happen to agree with you. It just needed to be said, is all.” He offered nothing more, evidently deciding he had rested his case. His eyes burned as he awaited her next words. “I’ll conduct an internal investigation right away,” she sighed. “Forward your FNS data to me ASAP.” “Respectfully, ma’am. But I think you should let me conduct the investigation inconspicuously. If you go public with this, and there are conspirators, it will alert them. They might go dark before we can get a handle on this.” She surprised him with laughter, emoting genuine amusement for the first time during their exchange. “Adol, you’re an intelligent and capable young security officer. But you lack seasoning. And frankly, I think you’ve been digesting one too many holonovels. Now, you’ve just made a solid case regarding a possible conspiracy within Starfleet. And during wartime, no less! Do you really believe I’m going to sit on this information?” “The strategy is sound.” Adol retorted, not missing a beat. Jesus Christ. He’s the Rock of Gibraltar with antennas. “Not really, commander. There’s simply no way to conduct an investigation of this nature ‘inconspicuously’ no matter who’s doing it.” She grunted tiredly. “All right, I’ll meet you halfway. The investigation will be an official one but I’m willing to let you lead it. You can expect my written orders by the end of the day. I’ll still need your FNS data. Once I’ve reviewed that and advised the appropriate brass, I’ll let you proceed. Unless of course, my own orders are overridden from above.” “That sounds fair.” Adol conceded, standing for a premature exit. “Not so fast.” She ascended with him. “I want to make sure, for your own sake, that you consider very carefully what I’m about to say next: while conducting your investigation, you will stay within the boundaries of protocol. That means not badgering senior officers or pushing into sensitive areas of Starfleet’s command tree unnecessarily. Try throwing your weight around and I’ll slap you down to ensign so fast, you’ll think your pips fell off in a windstorm.” “Yes ma’am.” “Now, if any facts you uncover do lead you into areas outside of protocol, you will seek me out before proceeding. Have you fully heard and understood what I’ve just said, commander?” “I have, ma’am. But with respect, I may need more access to personnel and departments than my rank or clearance would normally allow.” “Your written orders will include a temporary elevation of your security level. If anything more is needed, see me.” “Understood. I have one more request. I’d like to include my former XO. She could be very helpful to me.” She drank in the appeal silently, fully aware that Adol wasn’t just referring to Commander Shantok’s deductive skills. “All right, I’ll include her but strictly on a volunteer basis. After all, if she agrees, she’ll be sacrificing her leave to participate. I’ll get word to her. I believe she’s still at the Vulcan consulate in Mexico City?” He nodded. “Thank you.” She abruptly fell silent, leaving him to stand awkwardly, without being dismissed. “Was there something else?” “Yes, I understand you have a birthday tomorrow. So let me present your gift now.” “Ma’am?” Her dangerous smile returned. “This is what used be known in old Earth vernacular as a ‘get out of jail free card.’” Adol looked back in confusion. “I’m giving you that card today. But if you ever, and I mean ever, make unauthorized contact with the media again I’ll have your hide. Regardless of whatever clever rationale you may be employing at the time. Are we clear?” “Very clear. Thank you again.” “Dismissed.” She watched the Andorian turn around and march off smartly across the park, taking his blunt and stubborn personality with him. And that wasn’t all. She realized that he had taken her appetite as well.
Really nice character development with both characters. They seem well matched. Rather young for a rear-admiral if her hair is red rather than gray - unless there is some metabolism-altering substance involved (such as Bajoran soaproot, known to delay the advent of graying and also wonderful for the digestion - shame the stuff tastes horrible...) Thanks!! rbs
Yeah, it's established that she's in her early 40s, which I thought was young for her rank, too. Her backstory about leading a platoon against all odds is probably the reason for her meteoric rise. In any case, I like her. Perhaps partly because of her youth, she's clearly not your typical flag officer. Let's hope she's not involved with those bad hombres somehow. Now I'm eager to learn if Adol and Shantok will be in time to rescue Audrey. After all, the man desperately needed some outside help, last time we checked in on him.
Great feedback, as always! You both raised an interesting point concerning O'Toole's age. I actually hadn't given it much thought when I wrote her description. But it's worth mentioning that young admirals aren't that uncommon in Trekland. If we assume that the actors are the same age as the characters they're portraying, then Admiral Pressman from the STTNG episode The Pegasus, would have been 42. Admiral Nechayev would also have been 42 when she first appeared on screen. And Admiral Kennelly from STTNG: Ensign Ro would have been 49. If we further assume he wasn't just promoted, then it's likely he attained the admiralty a few years prior, say in his mid-forties. I think what's really going on is that the writers and casting directors probably weren't thinking it through in these cases. So, hmm. Yes, I might bump her age slightly. Much appreciated!
The average age for a U.S. Navy rear admiral is 57. So I would expect the same would apply to Star Fleet - if not somewhat older. We also have to take into account the probability that average human lifespan will have increased by about two decades and with it, average physically- and mentally-active lifespan. In STH/SBA, while military enlistees still tend to be teenagers, enlistees and academy cadets in Star Fleet tend to be older, usually not joining until their early 20's and with some officers coming in via OCS in their 50's or even later in life. However, the occasional exceptional officer might shoot up through the ranks. While Serge Mykel Chekov is 62 when he is promoted to Rear Admiral, Star Fleet Commandant Barrett th'Zoarhi is 43 and Chief of Staff Jamaal El Fadil is 39, making them the youngest officers to ever hold the top two posts. Neither ever commanded a star ship. Barrett th'Zoarhi came up through the Quartermaster's Office and El Fadil through SF Personnel - both put in place for an emergency rebuild of a decimated fleet following the Dominion War.
Chapter 4 Earth North American Continent Wednesday July 23rd, 1975 “Man, so you just ran into Rhonda yesterday by accident?” Jason acknowledged with a nonchalant bob of his head, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, when she was coming back from the playground. I walked her all the way home. Then I asked her out on a date.” Jeff Burke came to a halt, appraising his best friend suspiciously. “Get the hell out. You are totally shitting me.” “I shit you not, my fine friend.” “A real date, like the kind teenagers have?” Jason hesitated. “Not so much like that. We’re just ten, you know. It’s not like we can drive. But she was gonna come over to my house today.” He shrugged. “But her dad took the family on a fishing trip at the last minute, so we gotta do it another day.” “Maybe she just up and changed her little red headed mind, Charlie Brown.” “Bullcrap. I walked by her house. The station wagon’s gone.” Jeff snickered, letting Jason know he had been duped into showing his hand. “Shut up. I wasn’t worried about it. I just happened to notice.” “Liar, liar pants of fire, hanging on a telephone wire.” Jeff cackled shrilly. Jason couldn’t hold onto his indignance and busted up. Jeff’s imitation of his younger sister---whom he despised--- was just too spot on. And since he had just given the green light, Jason piled on. He bunched up his towel and placed it over his head. “Hi I’m Mindy,” He screeched. “My hair’s all scuzzy and I can’t do a thing with it!” Jeff hooted. “No! No! It’s like this! It’s like this!” He turned his own towel into a skirt and then proceeded to mock his sister’s walk, a rigid, stick-up-your-butt gait that only a nun could love. He added sound effects that suggested gastrointestinal issues. And so the merriment continued as they walked the gravely road that ran between fenced in properties. They paused their shenanigans long enough to visit the Douglas family’s horse, who trotted over to greet them. They patted his neck when he leaned over the enclosure, hoping the kids might have sugar cubes. The two best friends had history dating back to kindergarten. As they grew, so had Jeff’s thirst for adventure. In the early days, Jason had been reluctant to ride shotgun on most of Jeff’s forays into trouble, but eventually his buddy had shown he could be trusted as a leader. To date, their misadventures had not ended in any harm or serious trouble. Under Jeff’s tutelage, Jason had sneaked into movie theaters, trespassed onto private property and, on one daring occasion the pair had even shoplifted. Jason still remembered the exhilaration that day, as the two met behind a dumpster to compare their booty from the Seven Eleven, squealing with excitement. “Double J all the way!” They chanted before high fiving one another. Today’s itinerary had started off modestly enough. They had decided to walk down to Angle Lake for a dip. But Jeff being Jeff, just had to add a side dish of Forbidden Fruit to the entree. He had decided they would bypass the public access area of the lake they usually went to in favor of a trespass across Mr. Jessup’s property. “Trespassing” was an old favorite of Jeff’s and considered a low threat on their mischief scale. It added just a little spice to the day, without making it too hot. After all, the goal was to still get a swim in. As they crossed the old fart’s lawn, they hunkered down, making their way to a small tree that acted as a boundary between Mr. Jessup’s property and his neighbor’s. At first, they both snickered with glee…that is, until they realized no one was about. The fossil wasn’t out on his balcony like usual and his blinds were closed. He was obviously gone. There’d be no “get off my Goddamned lawn” today. The duo emerged from the tree and quickly noticed that Mr. Jessup wasn’t the only adult missing. There were no other grownups lurking about either. The nearest witness was a rowboat, bobbing in the middle of the lake, lost behind a scatter of sun flares that were bouncing off the water’s surface. Hell, at this point they could have streaked---as in naked---across Jessup’s lawn with no one the wiser. They had two more lake front yards to trek through, all of them Double J friendly, so no fun there, either. With mischief off the table, Jeff’s mood soured. “Damn, where’s all the adults?” He demanded. “They’re not around.” Jeff rolled his eyes. “Duh, no shit Sherlock.” “Keep digging, Watson. Seriously man, BFD. They’re probably at work. Grownups don’t get summer vacations like we do. Hey, at least no one’s gonna jack our day. C’mon, let’s keep on truckin’.” The twosome trotted on, adorned in t shirts and swimsuits, their beat-up sneakers slapping the ground with each pump of their legs. Jason had to work hard to keep up, despite his longer limbs and thinner build. It always amazed him how fast his short, stocky friend could hustle when he really wanted to. Jeff was fuming in silence as he stomped onward, head down like a bull, as if to bunt aside any obstacles between him and his next goal. Jason had already started daydreaming. He preferred a leisurely pace to his young life, preferably with plenty of time for woolgathering. That was likely why Jason saw it first. “Whoa! Holy crap! What the hell was that?” Jeff came to a stop and did an immediate about face. “What’s up?” “No freaking way you’re gonna believe what I just saw!” Jason pointed up the small hill at a green two-story house. It was a home that had once belonged to a bunch of Navy guys before they moved out. They had always been cool about letting Jason and Jeff cross their property. Now it stood empty, awaiting a new buyer. Jeff brushed a fall of dark brown hair out of his eyes and squinted up at the structure. “Don’t keep it to yourself, man. What’d you see?” “It was so damn weird…but that house? It turned into glass for a few seconds.” The utterance was so nonsensical Jason had to repeat it three times before his friend understood. “You’re smoking weed, dude. Least you outta share it.” “Seriously. I swear to God. It kinda…shimmered like, uh, what do you call it when like, you think you’re seeing water in the desert, but it’s not really there?” “A mirage.” “Yeah! A mirage!” “That’s a house. And we’re not in the desert, dumb ass.” “Bite me. I know what I saw. So, you---” It happened again. As they both ogled, the entire house grew spectral and insubstantial, enough that for a moment the kids could see inside all of the individual rooms, just like that stupid Barbie playhouse that Jeff’s sister had, the kind where you could swing out the walls. Even that visage faded to the point that the tool shed and bushes in the back yard became visible. Jeff and Jason blatted out expletives that were equal parts delight and fear. Then, just as Jason had described, the house began to ripple like one of those camera tricks they do in the movies. “Jesus! I think it’s gonna straight up disappear!” Jeff speculated. For a moment, it seemed it would. The flickering house appeared every bit as fragile as a candle flame fighting a stiff breeze. Until, after only a few seconds, it snapped back into place. The kids felt their ears pop, which was soon followed by a warm gust, just strong enough to tussle their hair. They jumped up and down, exchanging a shaky laugh. Both looked about wildly, half hoping other people were around them. After all, such a spectacle deserved a bigger audience. But the lake was still eerily quiet. Even the rowboat had moved on. “Oh, we gotta take a closer look at THAT!” Jeff shouted, still amped. “Hold up! We don’t know what’s making that happen. If this is a real thing, then that place could be dangerous.” “Why? You think it’s haunted?” But the customary voltage was absent from his jibe. He was transfixed, unable to tear his attention from the structure. Jason bit his lip nervously. Unlike Jeff, he had trouble looking at the house. The whole affair was starting to seem more creepy than cool. “I’m just thinking we should find an adult, have them call the cops or somethin’.” “And you know they’d think we were batshit, right? But, whatever. We can do that after we take a look.” He began moving away. For reasons unknown to him, Jason took another stab at deterrence, one born of desperation. “Hey, maybe…we should tell my dad about this. You know he’s really smart. He knows all about stuff like this." Jeff abruptly stopped and spun back to face him. “Screw your dad!” He blasted with sudden fury. Jason was stunned but managed a tempered counterpunch. “Hey, asshole! Not cool!” Jeff walked back to him. He put his face so close the two boys were nearly touching noses. When he spoke again, his voice was low and guttural, thrumming with vehemence “I hate to tell you, man…but I’m straight up sick of hearing about how great your old man is. ‘My dad was a submarine captain; my dad owns a big company that sells guns ‘n shit to the army! My dad’s a genius’, blah, blah, blah.’” “C’mon, mellow out." “Like I ever gave a rat’s ass. Tell you what, since your old man is so God almighty SUPER, you go cry to him! But I’m checking this out, with or without you.” He waited expectantly for an answer to his ultimatum, fists on his hips while Jason stared on in bewilderment, caught off guard by the sudden ambush. Of course, he should have seen it coming. He had always caught a whiff of jealousy from Jeff where their mutual dads were concerned. They were both being raised by single fathers, except that Jason’s father did indeed have a cooler resume, which to be fair, Jason had probably flaunted one too many times. Whereas Jeff’s old man was an ex-taxi driver with only a single point of distinction to his name: one night one of his fares had tried to rob him. The poor sap realized too late that he had brought a knife to a crowbar fight, and Jeff’s dad ended up splitting the guy’s head open. His old man had escaped serious charges, but the cab company had fired him. Now he lived off various forms of assistance while drinking like a fish. That, and taking his belt to Jeff when the mood struck…which was often. Jeff usually talked up the crowbar thing with pride, but Jason had always suspected that secretly it embarrassed him. “It was just an idea! Damn, don’t have a conniption fit.” “Then stop being a pussy.” The accusation of cowardice stung. “The only pussy here is you. All right, all right, let’s go check it out before you start crying and pee your tighty whities.” The insult earned him back a modicum of respect. Jeff nodded at him but with that kind of look that kids get when they reluctantly agree to something but suspect they’re about to become the butt of a joke. Jeff began power walking up the gentle slope without looking over his shoulder. Jason hesitated a final time, as a terrible sense of forbidding descended over him. Maybe it was his better judgement or something else entirely, but he could almost have believed a ghost was whispering in his ear…. Don’t go up there. Turn around and run while you still can. As if there ever had been a choice. If he left, he’d be forever branded a pussy in Jeff’s eyes and he’d be out years of friendship. Even worse, Jeff, who was a bully to many, would likely turn Jason into his next target. And that boy was not someone you wanted as an enemy. He jogged after his friend without further delay. Jeff acknowledged him with a guarded look. It was clear that Jason was on probation and would be observed carefully for further signs of misconduct. Ah, well. At least he’s not so pissed, now. The front of the home, just like everything else about it, looked unremarkable at close range. There was a small picture window with the drapes closed that overlooked a modest porch. Jeff dared a trek onto the porch and peered through a tiny part in the drapes, but only saw an empty living room. After reporting his findings, the two decided to inspect the side of the house, next. They tracked left and in due time, they found a short, rectangular window set near the ground. It was boarded up, but they found it wasn’t boarded all that tightly. Kneeling, their hearts galloping with excitement, they both worked to pry off the two boards. Once done, they attempted to peer through the narrow transparency but found it too muddy to see anything. Together, they used their towels to rub the glass clear, a show of energy that would have been admirable were it applied to nobler pursuits, say cleaning their rooms, for example. But Jason became more reluctant as the operation continued. “What happens if the house goes invisible again while we’re touching it?” Jeff couldn’t knock him on that one. “I know, work faster man!” When openings finally appeared, they immediately forgot any safety concerns and thrust their faces against the glass, hooding their eyes with exuberance. What they saw made any risk they were taking well worth it, in their humble opinions. Below them was a large basement. The walls were lined with an assortment of reflective metal boxes varying in size that suggested utility panels. They were all interconnected by a network of gray tubing. All but one wall, that is, which was bare except for two tall utility shelves, crowded with containers and unknown equipment. Even at their young ages, the boys noticed that the dimensions of the room were off, somehow. The basement seemed wider and deeper than the house, like it wasn’t a true basement at all, but more like a bunker of some kind. But the most fascinating aspect of the basement was its centerpiece: In the middle of the room was a series of five octagonal arches, each about seven feet tall, high enough that they nearly touched the ceiling. The structures were spaced about four feet apart and affixed to a polished strip on the floor. The arches were so reflective the kids thought they might be cut from mirrors. Movement grabbed their attention. Although the basement was unoccupied, a flat black panel was unfolding from one of the utility boxes. Once it had crept into a horizontal position, its surface lit into a colorful checkerboard that suggested a control panel. (Even though there were no knobs or buttons, which was weird.) Almost simultaneously, one of the arches at the far end began to glow dully. As they watched, it became brighter. And then its nearest neighbor also began to shine. The other structures blinked one at a time, in what was clearly a preprogrammed sequence. Within moments, all five arches went from mirrors to neon lights…. The boys pulled their heads away as the illuminance became uncomfortable. “Whoa, Jason! This is totally bitchin’! Do you think this might be a secret government lab or somethin’?” “Yeah, maybe…” Jeff swung his head back to the window for another look. He jerked his face around and grumbled. “Window’s too small for both of us.” He pressed closer, shielding his eyes once again with his hands. “But there’s a bigger window on the other side. I’m sure I can get a better look if I get over there and yank those boards off. You stay here so we don’t miss nothing.” “I dunno, man. I don’t think you outta go. Someone might see you.” “Ain’t no one down there, Einstein. And the house is empty.” He sneered with suspicion. “You aren’t wussing out on me again, are you?” “Hell no.” Jason put on his best mask of bravery. “Let’s do it, then!” “All right, I’ll wave to you through the window and then you can join me. Double J all the way!” Jason repeated the salute. They high fived one another, expecting to meet up again in just a few minutes. Yet, their goodbyes were far more profound than either of them could have imagined at the time. Because---as it would turn out---Jason Aubrey and Jeff Burke would never again lay eyes on one another.
A little more of the long-enigmatic Jason backstory. Great verisimilitude with the boys - more than a touch of Tom Sawyer. Thanks!! rbs
Star Trek: Stranger Things. I remember some of this mysterious back story. I wonder if we'll get some more answers about these oddly compelling events that so completely changed Aubrey’s destiny.
Chapter 5 Earth A.D 1975 Jason decided to take another look. The brightness coming from the basement was still intense, but manageable. Squinting, he pushed his gaze downward for a fast glance. The arches were still shining so he didn’t expect to really see anything other than light. But he did. And what he saw couldn’t possibly be real. So, he looked again. This time he was able to hold his vision steady long enough to verify that this new image was not an illusion created by glare. A figure had appeared at the far end of the arches. It was at first, just a shadow, a few charcoal smears making an incomplete stickman. It began lurching forward, walking under the first two arches with a stuttering gait, like a segment of choppy animation. It transformed quickly as it moved, its darkness turning inside out, thickening into form and substance. By the time it reached the fourth arch, its movements had become fluid, and he could now see a pair of transparent legs. Jason was able to identify female curvature and boots, although its upper torso was still in transition and unreadable. He spun away from the window and scrambled to his feet; his former excitement now blotted out by terror. “Oh my God.” He murmured pitifully. Jason decided to steal another look, just fast enough to see if Jeff had made it to the other window. He purposefully averted his eyes from the specter below. But he could tell Jeff wasn’t there, yet. The other window remained dark. Okay, no biggie. Maybe he’s just having trouble getting those boards off the other window, that was all, he told himself. He froze as Jeff’s ear-piercing scream cut through his brain like a knife. And brother, this wasn’t just any scream. Not a scream of simple fright, and certainly not a playful exclamation. This was the long, wretched cry of a child in horrific agony---the soul-killing howl of a boy getting skinned alive, or slowly being crushed under a tractor’s wheel… The scream elevated in pitch, becoming indistinguishable from that of a tortured animal before falling away quickly, as though its author had just tumbled down a well. And then there was silence. “Jeff?” More silence. Somewhere in the distance, a chainsaw whined. It was surreal to think that people were out there still doing normal things in a normal world while this was going on. “JEFF!” This time he put more force behind the call but was still greeted with nothing. How could Jeff scream like that? Jeff never cried out. This was a kid who had shrugged off a broken arm two summers ago. This was the same Jeff Burke who endured weekly beatings from his father without complaint. What force on Earth could have wrestled this sound from him? Not a force Jason wanted to screw around with, thank you very much! He decided that his first idea had been correct all along. It was time to cut his losses and get the hell out of Dodge. He took two steps before a strange feeling took hold and brought him to a stop. Something that had been sleeping deep inside came to life in that moment, a sense of fortification that was nearly alien in its strength. Perhaps the first stirrings of courage and loyalty that would so much define his later life. He couldn’t abandon Jeff. They were more than friends; they were partners in adventure. And just like on those cop shows, he wouldn’t leave his partner behind. Jason turned around and straightened, a cool determination overrunning his features, melting away the visage of a frightened child as he began a clinical reevaluation of his predicament. However, his new courage wasn’t travelling alone. Another visitor had arrived: instincts. Instincts that peddled unpleasant truths. Those instincts told him that his friend was gone in a way that was everlasting. No amount of searching or hysterically calling his name would bring him back. But then…what to do now? He flattened himself against the wall and replayed Jeff’s scream in his mind. Now that he remembered, the noise had an echoey, flat quality. Was it possible the neighbors hadn’t even heard it? By now there should have been--- The wall he was leaning against vanished. Jason yelped in fear. He glimpsed a shag carpet rushing to meet him and threw out his arms to absorb the impact. Only to pass through the floor as well. The basement floor came at him next, and he was certain he’d fall through that too, just like a phantom, and then he would keep falling until he reached the center of the Earth…! He hit the floor hard enough that it knocked the wind out of him, but playground muscle memory had protected him from serious harm. Seconds later, he was on his knees and gasping, giddy to be on solid again. He saw a pair of black boots before him, and his new courage evaporated in an instant. His eyes travelled upward, noting that the figure did indeed have the curves of a woman, as he had seen from above. She was dressed in a dark beige jumpsuit that was formfitting and adorned with numerous pockets. But her face was a damn nightmare. This wasn't some beautiful specter from the afterlife, as he had hoped. This was a freaking monster, something right the hell out the Outer Limits or the Night Gallery. Her mouth was full of jagged teeth so numerous; they seemed to spill out for lack of sufficient room. She had leathery deep brown skin, punctuated by eyes that were small and predatory like those of an animal. Unkempt black fur or possibly hair framed an ugly countenance only made worse by a pig-like nose. Those new instincts of his---the ones that only spoke truth---ended any hope that she was someone wearing a latex mask before the thought could form. God help him, whatever this creature was, she was the real thing. The monster-woman seemed just as surprised to see him, as he was to see her. She stepped back and drew a small device from her pocket that was about the size of a cigarette lighter. She was pointing it at him as though it were a gun or something. Jason figured it for a laser since she must be from outer space. "How did you get in here?" She growled. Her voice was what it might sound like if a lion could speak. He stared up at her mutely, still in shock. "I asked you a question, child!" "I'm lost! I dunno how I got in here, I swear!" Lame, lame, and more of the same. But his brain refused to give him anything better. She advanced on him, and Jason squealed in terror. With one hand, she grabbed him by the throat and pulled him off the floor. She was inhumanly strong. "Did 31 send you here? If this is a diversion, then it is a pitiful one. Tell your masters they will never get the artifact!" Jason dangled before her, his feet kicking helplessly in the air. A dilapidated sneaker flew off his foot. He was clinging desperately to her wrist, trying to avoid strangulation, all but certain the fiend was going to eat him on the spot. "I will ask again. HOW did you get in here? This room is sealed." "It was an accident! I’m sorry!" He wheezed. The monster-woman’s grip was beginning to squeeze the air out of him. Her face crunched into a feral expression. "Don't play games with me, suckling! Or I'll rip your throat out!" The arches abruptly flared back to life, flooding the cellar with white light. The floor vibrated beneath them, the ceiling began to fade in and out, as it had done before. "Who's accessing?" She demanded fearfully. "It should only be me!" Amid the arches, a black circle appeared. That circle then inflated into a sphere, which suddenly bolted into motion, careening though the portals as though someone had just hit a line drive from the other side. When it blurred through the final arch, it stopped in midair and then dropped, hitting the floor at the monster-woman’s feet. Jason thought it might be a baseball. Until he realized it was metal. The monster roared with panic. "GET DOWN!" She spun him around, interposing her body between him and the sphere. Her action was barely in time. The small device unleashed a scintillating burst of energy that caught her in the back. The force punched them both across the room, where she landed heavily and slid to a halt, unconscious before even hitting the floor. Jason had been thrown from her grip and crashed into the base of a shelving unit at the other end of the room. The metal framework, already weakened by repeated exposure to chroniton particles, crumbled, creating an avalanche of heavy tools and containers that buried him with brutal punishment. Then an adjacent shelf toppled as well, adding its own crushing weight to the pile, all of it striking with deadly force.