Lexington: Aliens Part 4 cont
Walking down the corridors of the immense starship led by their Andorian tour guide, the two rescued Halenoi were once again amazed at the presence of the different alien races that comprised the Lexington’s crew. While consisting mostly of the Halenoi appearing race called humans, there were those with pointy ears that Talana called Vulcans, one that looked Halenoi, but had spots that appeared to run down his neck and back that their guide called a Trill, and even a few other Andorians amongst the crew of this astonishing vessel.
“How many different races are there?” Lieutenant Alys inquired in a hushed voice, “And how many are in this Federation of yours?”
Chuckling, Talana gladly answered the curious Halenoi’s question, “We’re not exactly sure how many different sentient species there are in the galaxy—that’s one of the reasons why we’re here—to try to make peaceful contact with as many as possible. As for how big the Federation is…” her chuckles now replaced by an impish grin, the Andorian science officer announced to her doubting charges, “…as of now the Federation is spread across an area of approximately a thousand light years and consists of around 59 different species—of course…” she added, the mischievous grin still on her face, “…I could be off by a few species—I haven’t checked the news lately.”
“Impossible…” Merric shook his head in disbelief, “There’s no way you can get so many different races together without them killing each other.”
Sighing dejectedly, Myra chimed in, “Much as I hate to say it, I have to agree with Merric. I can’t see how you can possibly keep such a large group of different species and cultures together for long.”
The grin that had been on her face now replaced by a thoughtful expression, Talana replied honestly, “It’s not easy—and you’re right—there frequently are tensions that crop up. Many of our races didn’t get along with each other prior to joining the Federation—and more than a few still hold a few grudges. For instance, my people and the Vulcans fought both cold and hot wars with each other for hundreds of years and were on the verge of another hot war when we made first contact with the humans. It was the Earthers, acting as mediators, who finally got us to make peace.” As the tiny group approached engineering, the Andorian woman’s teasing grin returned as the door slid open, “And then there are the Tellarites…”
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“And this is where you’ll be working…” Dr. Tyee, an elegant, middle-aged Halenoi woman with platinum blonde hair, announced as she ushered Lieutenant Collins and Ensign Whatley through a doorway flanked by UMBRA security guards to either side. “It’s a spinoff from our special project.” The project director proudly declared, explaining, “If our theories are correct—and I think they are—then not only will we have broken the light-speed barrier for space travel, but we’ll also have a faster-than-light equivalent to radio.”
Subspace communications. Collins at once deduced. Plastering an enthusiastic smile on his face, the undercover engineering officer replied, answering for the young dark-haired woman standing beside him, “I can’t tell you how much we’re looking forward to working on this project, Dr. Tyee. When do we get started?”
“Excellent.” The Halenoi scientist answered back, pleased at the newcomer’s response. “I’ll introduce you to Dr. Castra—he’s the head of this particular section, and he’ll put the two of you to work. Come with me.”
As the project leader escorted the two undercover Starfleet officers to their assignment, she didn’t notice the covert looks a custodian sweeping the floor gave her as they passed by. As the door closed behind them, the custodian tapped the side of her neck two times, activated a tiny communications device embedded beneath her skin. In another section of the project, the leader of the Shlavka infiltration cell felt the vibrations emanating from a similar device implanted within him. As he tapped out his single tap response, Assig attempted to make the gesture appear to be an unconscious act as he spoke to the two Halenoi security guards opposite him.
“This is my first day on the job…” the Shlavka glibly lied as he regarded the slender red-haired Halenoi and his burly partner, “…and I’m afraid I’m lost. Can you direct me to the Dyska Project?”
After first examining the new employee’s credentials, the slender Halenoi replied as he returned the documents, “Go down this corridor…first door on the left…then third door on the right. Present your docs to the guard at the door.”
“Thank you.” Assig replied as he recovered his papers. “I’ll be on my way.”
Watching as the newcomer departed, the slender Halenoi smiled as he turned to his new partner, “Firsdays are always like this. Come with me, Rookie and I’ll show you where you’ll be assigned. So…” the security officer inquired as the pair made their way down the corridor in the opposite direction from which Assig went, “…that’s an interesting accent you have. Where did you come from again?”
“Dyakan City.” Alexei Kuznetsov, now wearing the uniform of one of the facility civilian security guards responded; keeping to his cover story of coming from one of the more distant, still resource poor continents.
“Yeah…” the other guard replied, his tone a mixture of sympathy and irritation, “…reconstruction efforts are still going on in your part of the world—aren’t they?”
“Right.” The burly Russian replied laconically, hoping that the tone of his voice would induce his partner to change the subject.
Taking the big man’s hint, the other guard sighed, “Can’t say as I blame you for not wanting to talk about it.” Jerking his head at a door, the guard declared, “This is your post. You’re not to let anyone through without the proper authorization. Have a good shift and I’ll be by to relieve you in four hours.” Nodding his head in acknowledgment, Alexei took his post. By now, the Commander figured, his team should be in place. Now, it was just a matter of waiting until Oudekirk and Collins got the information they were looking for. After that—it would simply be a matter of maintaining their covers while conducting a quiet surface investigation of Halenoi society and culture until the Lexingtonreturned…provided nothing went wrong, that is.
On the other side of the facility, the Shlavka leader made ready to strike. After first ensuring that he was in a blind spot where the omnipresent cameras could not spot him, Assig removed the thin fibrous wire that had been sewn into the color of his shirt. Turning it into an instant garrote, the Shlavka infiltrator grinned in satisfaction as he observed his prey. Waiting patiently for the right moment, the Shlavka infiltrator was soon rewarded as the guard turned his back on him. Striking smoothly and quickly, Assig wrapped the garrote around the Halenoi’s throat, twisting it until the body finally went limp. Checking to make sure there was no breath or heartbeat, Assig dragged his victim into a nearby custodial room where he rifled the poor guard’s pocket until he found what he was looking for—a pass card. Tapping the subcutaneous transmitter implanted on the side of his neck three times, Assig gave the ‘go’ signal to the rest of his team. Soon—they would all be either heroes—or dead—or—most likely both. Either way—the only thing that counted was the success of the mission. Assig had yet to fail a mission and had no intention of doing so now.
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Gasping at the sheer space in the giant starship’s engineering section, Lieutenant Alys remarked, her voice filled with awe. “This section alone is bigger than most of our manned deep space probes.” Her eyes fixed on the thrumming warp core, the flight control officer inquired, “What do you use as fuel? Fusion?”
“No.” Talana shook her head, “We use matter—anti-matter.”
“Impossible.” Merric sneered, “There’s no way you could contain that much energy.”
“Then why aren’t your atoms scattered all across space, Pup?” A course, gravelly voice demanded.
Pivoting rapidly towards the voice, the young Halenoi pilot’s eyes widened as they laid eyes on something that he had only imagined seeing in a science fiction movie. All the other aliens he and Myra bore at least a superficial resemblance to Halenoi: the humans, except for slight variations in eye and hair color could pass unnoticed—a thought that had begun to slowly gnaw at the suspicious young pilot. And as for the other races, except for the Andorians with their blue skin and antennae, they were close enough to Halenoi standards where they wouldn’t look too much out of place. But the individual standing before him now defied such simple categorizing. He was a portly—really stout would be a better description—individual about a head shorter than the Halenoi pilot and much hairier. But what truly set him apart were his facial features. His broad snout and sharp canines gave him an almost feral cast. Stunned speechless by the alien, Merric almost missed his next words.
“What’s with these two, Talana?” The porcine alien demanded in a belligerent voice, thrusting his finger at the Andorian woman who was at that moment valiantly trying to restrain her laughter. “Are they brain damaged or something? And why the hells did you bring them into my section? I have more important things to do than wet-nurse a pair of striplings.”
“Calm down, G’arv.” Talana replied in a voice half teasing—half conciliatory. “Commodore Wesley’s orders. These are the two Halenoi we rescued from that shuttle.” Turning her attention back to her guests, Talana introduced the two of them to the acerbic being wearing a red shirt and rank designations similar to the Andorian’s on his sleeves, “This is Lieutenant Commander G’arv, our chief engineer. He comes from another planet that was a founding member of the Federation, Tellar.”
“And a damned good thing we decided to join too.” The Tellarite declared in a gruff voice, “Otherwise you’d all be lost.”
“Modesty is not a Tellarite virtue.” Talana jibed back. “That goes for good manners as well.” Her smile vanishing, the Andorian patiently explained to the gruff engineer, “The Commodore was hoping that you’d show Flying Officer Freman and Lieutenant Alys your section and maybe answer any questions they might have.”
“Four years of Starfleet Academy…post-graduate degrees in warp mechanics and plasma physics…and fifteen years as an engineer on everything from Kestrels to Connies and I get stuck playing tour-guide.” The stocky engineer huffed, “All right, pups…follow me and try not to get lost and if you have any questions I’ll try to answer them in words you can understand.”
As the little group began to make their way deeper into G’arv’s domain, Myra whispered into Talana’s ear, “Is he always like this.”
Snickering, Talana whispered back, “To tell the truth…we’ve caught him on a good day.”
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“Commodore…the Shlavka ship has resumed course.” Lieutenant Terrence Lawford, the Lexington’s chief navigator, announced.
“Follow his course and heading, Ms. Bathory.” Commodore Wesley instructed, “And remember…keep our distance…we don’t want to spook him.”
“Aye, Sir.” The youthful Hungarian acknowledged.
Cupping his chin, Robert gazed intently at the viewscreen, his eyes trying to pick out the dim Shlavka vessel moving amongst the other points of light. In an almost inaudible voice, the commodore muttered to himself, “It’s a wild gamble—but I don’t see any other choice. Otherwise, an awful lot of people are going to get killed and I’ll probably end up sharing a spot in Hell with Colonel Green.”
“Sir! A B’rel class scoutship has appeared on our scanners.”
Snapped out of his reverie by Aliz’s thickly accented Hungarian voice, Robert at once ordered, “Magnify.” As the wavy, fuzzy image slowly defined itself into the shape of one of the relatively new raptor-shaped Klingon pursuit craft, the commodore barked out, “Course and heading!”
“They’re on an intercept course for the Shlavka vessel.” Lieutenant Terrence Lawford reported back in his usual posh English accent. “Estimated time until they reach weapons range—two minutes…thirty seconds.”
Coming to a quick decision, Wesley inquired, “Can we get to that ship before the Klingons?”
“If we go to maximum warp now…” Terrence promptly replied, “We should get there at nearly the same time.”
“Do it.” The commodore ordered as he punched the intercom button on his chair arm, “Red Alert…all hands to General Quarters.”
Which I guess is the best praise I can give for this excellent story!
enter the fray but what exactly is their purpose? ... mmm ... 
- Means trouble any which way.
(it refers to an earlier segment)!