Star Trek: Tales Of The Wanderer - Episode 6 - Conscience Of The Captain

[Callum MacLeod]

July 7, 2376
FCS Wanderer
Star Station Echo, Molari System, Sector 04340

In the dimly lit corner of a Star Station Echo’s bar, Sloopy’s Saloon, G’roth Cortez sat hunched over a Saurian brandy, his stern half-Klingon features etched with the lines of a man who’d seen more of the galaxy than he cared to remember. G’roth’s thoughts drifted to the unmarked container in the Wanderer’s cargo hold. The job had been simple: transport it, no questions asked.

“G’roth!” Lerah’s cheerful Andorian voice pierced through his thoughts. She slid into the seat next to him, her antennae perked with excitement. “You look like you’re wrestling with the weight of the galaxy.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Just contemplating the job we just picked up. Transporting an unmarked container to Veretex three, no questions asked.”

Lerah raised an eyebrow. “Sounds shady, even for us.”

“That’s what I thought,” G’roth agreed, his human side’s curiosity warring with his Klingon instincts for honor, “But the pay’s too good to ignore.”

“We’re not exactly saints, G’roth.” Lerah said, “We’ve had our fair share of questionable cargo.”

“True,” G’roth conceded, his gaze lingering on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. “But something about this one feels… different.”

The sudden beep of his wrist-com jolted him out of his contemplation. He glanced at the device, and Elian Castellanos’s voice filled the small space.

“Captain, we’re all set to depart. Cargo is secure, and we’re ready for your orders.”

G’roth downed the Saurian brandy in one gulp, the fiery liquid searing his throat, a fitting punctuation to his decision. He slammed the glass down on the counter.

“We’re on our way,” he said into the wrist-com, his voice firm.

As they left the bar, the neon lights of the station’s promenade cast a rainbow of shadows across their faces. G’roth felt the weight of the decision press down on him like a gravitational force. They boarded the Wanderer, and Lerah took the helm while G’roth and the rest of the crew went about their pre-flight routines. The station retracted it umbilicals and the ship slipped out of the docking bay into the cold embrace of space.

The moment the Wanderer’s engines hummed to life and the stars outside began to stretch into streaks of light, G’roth made his way to the mess hall. His boots echoed through the corridors, each step a silent acknowledgment of the looming decision he had yet to make regarding the mysterious cargo. The mess hall, usually a hub of activity and banter among the crew, was eerily quiet.

The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft whir of the food replicator in the corner, which cast a pale blue glow across the metallic surfaces. G’roth took a seat at the central table, the coldness of the metal seeping into his skin as he pondered over the implications of their latest job. The cargo was undeniably suspicious, but the allure of a substantial payday had been too tempting to refuse, especially given that the Orion Syndicate had seemingly been giving them a wide berth lately.

Torvin, the seasoned Chelon engineer, shuffled in, his scaly skin glistening with a sheen of grease from the engine room. His sharp eyes met G’roth’s, and he knew something was amiss without a word spoken.

“Everything checks out in the cargo bay.” Torvin said, his voice a gruff burr. “But I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”

G’roth nodded, “Me too. Me too.”

 

[Callum MacLeod]

That evening, in their shared cabin, Lerah found G’roth staring out the viewport at the stars, lost in thought. She sat next to him, her antennae drooping slightly.

“You’re not yourself tonight,” she said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“It’s the cargo,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “Ever since we picked it up, I’ve been… I don’t know, questioning.”

“Questioning what?” she prodded.

He took a moment before speaking, “Me. Seeing Jim with Joseph, it… it made me think about what kind of man and captain I am. I wonder if my dad would be proud of me. Or would he be disappointed in me.”

Lerah’s hand slid up to his neck, her antennae waving slightly as she considered his words. “Torvin’s literally been with your family for generations,” she said softly. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I can’t! What if I’m disappointing him?” He turned to face her. “What if he’s only here out of loyalty to my father and grandfather?”

Lerah’s gaze was soft, understanding. “G’roth, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all the time I’ve been onboard it’s that Torvin isn’t one for half-truths or false loyalty. If he thinks something is wrong, he’ll say it. It he’s sticking around, it’s because he believes in you, not just your family’s legacy.”

The conversation lingered in the air as G’roth’s thoughts drifted back to the cargo bay. He knew he had to face the reality of their situation, regardless of the potential consequences. He stood, his decision made. “I need to check on that cargo.”

In the quiet solitude of the cargo bay, G’roth approached the unmarked container with a mix of trepidation and resolve. His hand hovered over the control pad, and with a deep breath, he entered the override code. The seal hissed open, revealing an unexpected sight: an Orion slave girl, unconscious and bound within. Her emerald skin was bruised, and her eyes fluttered open with a glimpse of fear as she took in her surroundings and screamed.

 

[Callum MacLeod]

The piercing sound echoed through the bay, and G’roth’s heart sank as he realized the magnitude of their mistake. He pressed the ‘All Call’ stud on his wrist-comm and barked, “Lerah, K’tara, I’m in bay one, get down here on the double.”

Lerah and K’tara arrived in a rush, their expressions a mix of shock and concern. K’tara, the Caitian medic, rushed to the Orion girl’s side. She began scanning her with her medical tricorder, her fur ruffling with the urgency of the situation.

“What is she doing here?” Lerah’s voice was tight with anger.

“It seems we’ve stumbled into something deeper than we thought,” G’roth said.

K’tara’s medical tricorder beeped insistently. “She’s in bad shape. Dehydrated and malnourished. We need to get her to the medbay immediately.”

G’roth nodded, his jaw set. “Do it. Whatever she needs…”

As they rushed the girl to the medbay, the weight of their discovery grew heavier with each step. The once-simple cargo run had transformed into a moral quandary that could have dire consequences. G’roth felt his stomach churn as the implications of their involvement with slavery sank in. This was a line they had never crossed before, and one he swore they never would.

Once in the medbay, K’tara worked quickly and efficiently, her hands deftly applying hyposprays and setting up the biobed. The Orion girl’s eyes remained wide with fear, darting between the unfamiliar faces surrounding her. G’roth stepped forward, his voice low and reassuring.

“You’re safe here,” he said, trying to ease her distress. “We won’t let anyone harm you.”
K’tara stepped closer, her fur a soothing shade of blue as she spoke gently, “My name is K’tara, and this is Lerah. The big guy’s G’roth. What’s your name?”

The Orion girl’s eyes searched theirs for a hint of deceit, her body taut with tension. After a moment, she whispered, “Elyse.”

“How old are you, Elyse?” K’tara asked softly.

The Orion girl looked up at her with a flicker of suspicion in her emerald eyes before she spoke, “I’m nineteen.”

G’roth’s hand tightened into a fist at the revelation of her age. He turned to Lerah, his expression a storm of emotions. “We can’t just transport her. It’s slavery, plain and simple.”

Lerah nodded, her antennae flattening in agreement. “We have to help her. We can’t just be a part of this.”

Elyse’s eyes searched theirs, hope flickering like a distant star. “Please,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No one’s going to harm you, Elyse. I won’t let them.”

G’roth’s voice was a promise, one that resonated with the depth of his convictions. His half-Klingon heritage might have taught him the brutal ways of war, but his human upbringing had instilled in him a deep respect for freedom and justice. The very thought of a creature being subjected to such cruelty was an affront to his very being.

The decision was made. They would not be party to this atrocity. Lerah nodded firmly, “We’ll find a way to get you out of this, Elyse.”

 

[Callum MacLeod]

July 8, 2376
FCS Wanderer
Interstellar Space, Sector 04340

“So what do we do now?” Torvin asked the next morning as the Wanderer hung still in space next to a rogue asteroid ten kilometers wide in an attempt to hide while they figured out their next move.

G’roth leaned back in his chair, staring at the asteroid on the viewscreen, his mind racing. “I don't know, but I can tell you it doesn't involve taking Elyse to those frakers on Veretex Three."

Torvin stepped forward, his reptilian eyes meeting G’roth’s with a look of understanding knowing what his surrogate nephew needed to hear. "You're a good man, G'roth. Your father would be proud. I know I sure am."

The ship remained hidden as they discussed their options, the asteroid's shadow and sensor refracting minerals creating a temporary respite from the prying eyes of space. They could not simply return Elyse to her captors and collect their pay. The thought was as unbearable as it was unthinkable. Yet, the Orion Syndicate was not an entity to be trifled with. They had to act carefully, ensuring Elyse's safety and their own.
G'roth called for a crew meeting in the cramped bridge, where the tension was palpable. The normally bustling space was quiet, the only sound the soft beeping of the instruments and the heavy breaths of the crew members. They all knew the gravity of their situation.

"We have to decide what to do with Elyse," G'roth began, his voice firm. "Obviously taking her to Veretex Three is not an option."

Lerah spoke up, "We could drop her off at the nearest Starfleet outpost."

"And risk the wrath of the Orion Syndicate?" Torvin rumbled, his scaly skin bristling at the thought. "They'd find us, and they'd make sure we regret crossing them."

"But we can't just leave her in the hands of those monsters," Lerah countered, her antennae flaring.

Elian Castellanos, the former Section Thirty-One operative, spoke calmly. "We need to consider the bigger picture. If we take her to Starfleet, we might be signing her death warrant. They might not be able to protect her from the Syndicate's reach."

"And if we don't, we're just as guilty as the slavers," K'tara retorted, her eyes flashing.
G'roth held up a hand, silencing the argument. "We need a plan that guarantees her safety without putting us all at risk."

The crew exchanged glances, each contemplating the gravity of their situation. Elyse's fate was now intertwined with their own, and the weight of their decision grew heavier by the second.

"We could take her to a safe haven," suggested K'tara, her fur a deep blue as she thought aloud. "Somewhere off the grid where the Syndicate wouldn't think to look."

"And force her to live in seclusion for the rest of her life?" Kaal said, "We'd be little better than the slavers."

"We can't just let her go," Lerah argued, her antennae waving in agitation. "They'll just grab her again."

Torvin's eyes narrowed as he considered their options. "Maybe there's another way. We could do what Elian did."

Elian's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

Torvin's gaze remained steadfast on the asteroid. "You know how to vanish without a trace. You've done it before, Castellanos. If Elyse agrees, we could stage a... mishap. Make it look like she didn't survive the trip."

Elian leaned back, considering the proposal. He'd faked his death to escape the shadowy grip of Section Thirty-One. It was a risky maneuver, but one that had worked for him. "We'd need to make it convincing," he said slowly. "And it would mean she'd have to leave her old life behind."

"It's better than being a slave," G'roth said, his voice firm. "If she agrees, we'll need to plan this carefully."

 

[Callum MacLeod]

They gathered around Elyse's biobed, her eyes darting from one face to the next, trying to read the intent behind their words. She was a captivating mix of fear and hope, a stark contrast to the cold steel of the medbay.

"Elyse," G'roth began, his voice gentle but firm.

The room grew silent as all eyes focused on the young Orion. She looked up at G'roth, her emerald eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear.

"We know you've been through hell," G'roth began, his voice deep with compassion. "But we want to give you a chance at freedom."

"What do you mean?" Elyse's voice was a whisper, hope tentatively blooming.

Lerah stepped forward, her antennae waving slightly as she spoke. "We're thinking of faking your death. It's risky, but if it works, you'll be free of the Syndicate."

Elyse's eyes grew wide with shock, her pulse racing beneath the medical scanners. "Where would I go?"

"Wherever you want," Lerah assured her, placing a comforting hand on the girl's arm. "You'll be free to make your own choices."

Elyse's gaze searched the faces around her, looking for any sign of deceit, any hint that they were just playing her for their own ends. But all she saw was genuine concern.

G'roth leaned in, his Klingon brow furrowed. "If you want you can stay on the Wanderer as long as you like. We could use another set of hands."

The offer hung in the air, a lifeline thrown to a drowning soul. Elyse's eyes searched his, seeking reassurance.

"You can trust us," he said solemnly. "We won't let them take you back."

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on the crew. They had a duty to this girl now, a responsibility that went beyond the confines of their original agreement.

Elyse took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort. "Okay," she murmured. "I'll do it. But what happens after? If I stay on the Wanderer, won't I just be... a burden?"

"Never," G'roth's response was immediate and fierce. "You'll be part of our crew. We stand together."

The decision was made. They’d fake her death and give her a new life. But first, they had to make sure she was healthy enough for the journey ahead. K’tara took the lead, working tirelessly to heal Elyse’s bruises and nourish her back to health. During this time, she began to learn the ropes of the ship, her curiosity and resilience shining through. She showed an aptitude for engineering and under Torvin’s watchful eye she quickly learned to handle and tend to the Wanderer’s systems with the same care and skill as the old Chelon. As the Wanderer flew through the stars, the crew keeping a vigilant watch for any sign of pursuit. While they meticulously rigged the stasis pod to appear as if it hadn’t been opened so that no one would suspect their interference. Making it look as if she had never been inside in the first place so the syndicate would think that their employer had tried to cheat them.

 

[Callum MacLeod]

July 11, 2376
FCS Wanderer
Interstellar Space, Sector 04340

The ship’s computer beeped, signaling their arrival at Veretex Three. G’roth stood, his hand resting on the back of his chair. “We’re here. It’s showtime.”

The crew nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. They had to be flawless in their deception. Lerah and Kaal prepared to leave the ship with the stasis pod while G’roth and Torvin remained behind with Elyse. K’tara would monitor their progress from the bridge.

“Remember,” G’roth said to Lerah and Kaal. “If anything goes wrong, abort immediately.”

They nodded, their expressions a mix of determination and fear. Lerah gave Elyse a reassuring smile. “You’re going to be okay. We’ve got you.”

Elyse managed a small smile in return, the first genuine one she’d given since her rescue. G’roth knew it was a brave front. The fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface.

The two crew members exited the ship, the stasis pod in tow. On the viewscreen, G’roth watched as they approached the docking bay. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing through his body like the drums of war.

Their contact, a furtive looking Bolian with a scar running down the left side of his face, met them with a curt nod. His eyes darted around the bay, checking for any signs of trouble before he turned to the pod. His hands danced over the console, scanning the pod with a tricorder. G’roth’s gaze never left the Bolian’s face, looking for any sign of suspicion. But all he saw was greed.

“Everything checks out,” the Bolian said, his voice low and gruff. “You’re clear to leave.”

Lerah and Kaal exchanged glances, the tension palpable, as they made their way back to the Wanderer. The pod was left in the docking bay, while Elyse was hidden safely in a heavily shielded compartment in the ship’s bowels. The doors hissed shut behind them, and the ship’s engines roared to life.

G’roth met Lerah’s eyes as they cleared the docking clamps. “Take us out of here,” he said, his voice tight.

With a nod, she engaged the thrusters and the Wanderer shot away from the planet, streaking through space towards the relative safety of the asteroid belt. The transaction had gone smoother than he’d dared hope, but his gut told him this wasn’t the end.

As they made their way back to Star Station Echo, the comms crackled to life with the news that their employer had been killed in a transporter accident. The crew’s eyes met, each reading the same grim understanding in the others’. It wasn’t an accident. It was a message from the Syndicate, loud and clear: They knew about the double-cross.

Elyse looked around the bridge, her eyes wide with fear. “What does this mean for me?”

G’roth stepped over to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re one of us now,” he said, his voice steady. “And we protect our own.”

 

[Callum MacLeod]

Looking out the viewport of his cabin G’roth stared at the distant points of light thinking about his father, “Dad, if you’re watching I hope you’re proud of me.”

The comms crackled to life, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“G'roth, we’ve got a problem,” K’tara’s voice was tight with urgency.

G’roth’s stomach clenched as he sprinted to the bridge. “What is it?”

“A Syndicate cruiser, the Troshmaran. They’re on an intercept course,” she replied, her fur ruffling with anxiety.

“Torvin, get us out of here,” he barked, dropping into the captain’s chair while pressing the ‘all call’ stud on his wrist-comm.

The ship lurched as they engaged the warp engines, the stars outside the viewport stretching into streaks of light as they hurtled away from the asteroid field. The crew held their collective breath as the console lights danced in a symphony of urgency.

“They’re gaining on us,” Lerah said through gritted teeth, her knuckles white on the controls.

“We can’t outrun them,” G’roth said, his eyes narrowed as he studied the tactical display.

“What do we do?” Kaal asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

G’roth’s gaze shifted to Elyse, who had joined them on the bridge. Her eyes were wide with fear, her hands gripping the railing.

“We fight,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I don’t care what, or who, they want. The Syndicate isn’t welcome on the Wanderer.”

Lerah’s antennae twitched in agreement. “Let’s show these slavers what the Wanderer is made of.”

The ship’s computer beeped again, and Elian’s voice filled the bridge, “They’re is in firing range."

G’roth nodded, his eyes not leaving the display. “Elian, Ready the phaser bank and standby on the spiral wave canon.”

Elyse took a shaky step forward, her voice strong despite her fear. “What can I do?”

“Pray for a miracle.” G’roth instructed her opening a comm-link to engineering on his wrist -comm. “Torvin, status?”

“Engines at full,” came the gruff reply. “But we’re not built for this kind of speed.”

“We don’t have a choice,” G’roth said through gritted teeth. “Just keep us moving.”

The Troshmaran grew larger on the viewscreen, its menacing shape a stark reminder of the power they were up against. The crew braced themselves as the first volley of torpedoes streaked towards them. Lerah’s nimble hands danced over the deflector controls, and the ship lurched as they narrowly avoided the explosions.

“They’re hailing us, Captain,” Elian reported, her fur standing on end.

G’roth took a deep breath, steeling himself for the confrontation. “Standby on the spiral wave canon. We’ll only get one chance… On screen.”

The face of the Troshmaran’s captain, Lortho Elix, filled the viewscreen. His eyes narrowed as he took in the Wanderer’s bridge crew.

“Drop out of warp and surrender your cargo and I’ll consider letting you live.” Lortho Elix’s sneer was as cold as the vacuum of space.

G’roth’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the armrests of his chair. “Go to Gre’thor, Elix.”

Lortho’s grin twisted into a snarl. “You think you’re clever, Cortez? You’ll pay for that, with your crew’s lives.”

The screen flickered, and the ship jolted. Elian’s eyes went wide. “They’ve fired on us! We’re out of warp, and our shields are down and our weapons are off-line! They knew exactly where to hit us!”

In a flash of light, Elix and his raiding party materialized on the bridge, weapons drawn. His eyes scanned the room, settling on Elyse, who stood frozen with fear. A look of wistfulness passed over his face, and he barked an order into his own wrist-comm in Orionese. Within seconds all of Elix’s men dematerialized.

“Elix,” G’roth growled, rising from his chair, his fists clenched.

The Orion captain smirked, his eyes lingering on Elyse before he spoke, “I was hoping that somehow the reports of your capture were false.”

“They weren’t.” Elyse said.

Elix looked at G’roth and said, “Take good care of her. If she comes to any harm, I’ll make sure you wish you were dead.”

With those chilling words, he disappeared in a shimmer of light, leaving the crew in stunned silence. Looking at Elyse, G’roth saw that she was not surprised by Elix’s action.

“Why?” G’roth asked.

Elyse took a deep breath. “We were close when I was young. He tried to protect me. To keep me off of the Syndicate’s sensors.”

“But why would he just let us go?” Lerah asked, still in shock.

Elyse looked down, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s not ‘letting us go’. He’s letting me disappear. He’ll make sure that his men know that if they say anything about what happened here he’ll kill them… very slowly and very painfully.”