Mission 2: Queenspace

***Mission 2, Day -3, 2320 hours***

Bok had completed distributing the sensor buoys. It wasn’t a particularly engaging task. He was fairly certain it could have been carried out by a computer program if it wouldn’t have taken more time to make the program than just dispatch him. But this presented an opportunity. 

Opportunity. That was something he had been thinking about a lot lately. Rule number nine of the laws of acquisition clearly stated “Opportunity plus instinct equals profit.” His instincts were running wild. There was something in this nebula, something that bore investigation. 

Rule number seven said “keep your ears open.” What was this if not a gold pressed latinium chance for an open eared and ready Ferengi. Then there was the other thought that kept him questioning himself. Rule number 18: “A Ferengi without profit is no Ferengi at all.” 

Well, he was a Ferengi. His profits had been small, but there existed. His knowledge of humans and other races that participated in the federation and starfleet surely would prove invaluable in building a customer base. He found himself sitting at full stop just outside the nebula’s gasses. The tendrils of blue color seemed to waft through space as if blown by some gentle solar wind. Rule 22 said “A wise man can hear profit in the wind.” His winds had been blowing slowly, calmly, but now the chance was here. It was in violation of his orders. He was to place the buoys and return. It was simple, straightforward, and unprofitable. He had learned nothing yet. 

“Decision time,” he said to himself. “To search for new profits, or to stay here...”

He shook his head and looked at the duffel bag in the corner, the one with his money. 

“Expand or die,” he said to himself. It was both Rules 45 and 95, and possibly several more. Was he beginning to forget? No. No Ferengi could forget the rules of acquisition! It would be risky to go into the nebula alone. His friends were on the Yorktown, such as they were. Card playing mates, potential contacts, not Ferengi. Then again there was Rule 21: “Never place friendship above profit.” Some of the other crewmen spoke of each other as family in the far reaches of the galaxy. He wasn’t sure what that was worth. Was there profit in family? Only if there was a mutually beneficial partnership taking place. And Rule 6 clearly stated “Never allow family to stand in the way of opportunity.” That wasn’t helping. All things indicated that he should shake these loyalties and attend to the work of profits. But the Yorktown was home...He straightened up. Rule 75: “Home is where the heart is, but the stars are made of latinum.” There were stars in there, stars with planets, planets which could hold unknown lifeforms...potential customers, or suppliers. But so many risks were involved...

“Rule of Acquisition number 62: the riskier the road the greater the profit,” he said aloud. “Expand or die.”

He keyed in his course and headed into the nebula. The wisps of blue gas enwrapped the shuttle. His sensor reading were erratic. Objects surrounding him, and then not, and then more of them arriving again.

“Warning, collision in 15 seconds,” the computer chimed in. Bok turned the ship to starboard and rolled to keep the viewer directed toward the object. A Cardassian vessel loomed up out of the mists. He began to panic. Ferengi and Cardassians had no quarrel, but would the Cardassians take the time to find out that he wasn’t just another member of Star Fleet? But the ship wasn’t moving; there weren’t even lights. A quick scan showed the ship to be completely dead.

“Perhaps she was damaged elsewhere and simply drifted in,” he said to himself. Was that likely? Of course it was. It shouldn’t daunt him. After all, Rule 263 was clear: “Never allow doubt to tarnish your lust for latinum.” But the ship showed no phaser burns, no gaping holes town by photon torpedos, or any damage from a weapon system with which he was familiar. And there were those gaps where something had cut holes in the hull... Rule 208 came to mind and gave him chills: “Sometimes the only thing more dangerous than a question is an answer.” He wasn’t waiting around to find out how accurate that was. 

“Computer, determine probable location of nearest star system,” he ordered.

“Location determined,” the computer replied. A readout appeared in front of him with the numbers and projected data. It was all frustratingly incomplete. There were so many false reading around, and the gas itself seemed almost designed to prevent sensor detection of anything. He should have been able to detect the Cardassian derelict from lightyears away, not been forced to swerve from it like a groundcar avoiding a cat. That was a human analogy. He had been in Star Fleet far too long. 

“Set course,” he commanded the computer. He liked the feel of giving commands, even if it was only to the shuttle. It wouldn’t be that way for long. It couldn’t be that way for long. He was Ferengi, and there was profit in the winds. “Ahead full impulse.”

He spent the next two hours monitoring the sensor data and imagining the females and the riches that would be his when this was over. He couldn’t decide which was more tantalizing, the prospect of the trade empire he could single handedly establish, or the females that would go with it.

“Audio signal detected,” the computer said, pulling him from his reverie. 

“Open a channel,” he said. There was a blip and a bleep and he knew the channel was open. A deep voice boomed through the intercom before he could speak. 

“Alien craft. You have trespassed into the Royal Territory of her luminescence the Queen. Halt your engines and surrender."

He glanced at the sensor data. Several objects that he had been tracking had matched his pace and seemed to have taken up a formation around him. 

“I wasn’t aware that this territory was claimed by anyone,” Bok replied. “I am Bok. I am sure we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

:”Bok, you are charged with trespassing into the Royal Territory of her luminescence the Queen. Halt your engines and surrender or you will be fired upon.”

He considered that a moment. He looked at his duffel bag on the shuttle floor. Rule of Acquisition 23 said: “Nothing is more important than your health...except for your money.” If they were the ones who had taken down the Cardassians then his shuttle stood no chance, and both his health and his money were in jeopardy. His hands darted quickly across the consol and he came to a full stop. The shuttle shook slightly as a tractor beam seized it, then shuddered as some kind of docking clamp gripped the outer hull. From the viewer he could see a vessel roughly the size of two defiant class ships. The clamp pulled him into what seemed to be a hanger bay. He picked up his duffel and moved to the shuttle doors. Sensor readings showed that the environment outside the shuttle was adjusting to match that inside it. 

“Bok, step out of your vessel peacefully,” the deep voice boomed through his intercom. He stepped out to find the air was right but the gravity was significantly stronger than he was used to. There was a click and the room was flooded with light. Three large, humanoid shaped figures in heavy metalic suits approached from an airlock in the far wall. Two were a good 8 feet in height, broad, and carrying rifles the size of torpedos. The third, standing in the middle, was a full foot shorter and slightly leaner than the others, though the description of “less barrely” was more apt. Their heads were hidden inside of their helms. 

“You are Ferengi,” the middle one said. At least, he thought it was the middle one. 

“Yes,” Bok replied, trying to sound confident. “But I am as of yet unfamiliar with you.”

“I am Khan Terroth,” the middle one nodded his head. “You are charged with trespassing in the royal territory of her luminescence the queen. Do you plead guilty?”

“I...I am unfamiliar with your laws and cannot correctly enter a plea at this time.” Bok said quickly. He hoped this would stick. He didn’t want to face any of these oversized apes, let along three, or however many more were behind those bulkheads. The dead were in a distinctly disadvantageous position where profits were concerned. 

“Take him into custody,” Khan Terroth ordered. “Scan him, and search all data in his memories relevant to his arriving at this location. Captain Gisberon, the prisoner has been secured. The research team may take possession of his ship as soon as quarentine procedures are complete.” 

Bok didn’t even try to fight when the two giants took him by the arms and escorted him toward the doors. This was a most unprofitable beginning. 

Powered by theAwesome

Mission 2: Back when sumo was returning to the ship

Mission 2, day 1, 10:32 hours

The Yorktown shook briefly. 

“I have lost control of the ship,” the helmsman reported.

“How the hell did that happen?” Thoris inquired in an accusatory tone.

The ship leaned hard forward and slightly to port, changing course significantly. 

“We’re caught in some kind of tractor beam,” the helmsman announced. There was another shake, a creaking sound, and then things smoothed out again. “Our engines have been shut down.”

The intercom activated with the alien hail. 

“Alien vessel,” the deep voice boomed. “You have been cleared for docking procedures. If you wish to sample the glory of her Luminescence Queen Tervathaki the Mighty and Fair it is suggested that you move to your viewports as your ship is guided to the Xeno section of Station L14D Laratha. You will undergo quarantine and scanning prior to being admitted to the station. That is all.”

Outside the viewports there was at first only the blue mist. Then the mist went to a bright, ice blue as if charged with energy. Traces of lightening danced over the hull. The clouds parted and directly “above” the ship an immense structure built of a combination of metal and crystal occupied the entire viewport. A vast array of docking clamps and mechanical arms filled at least 8 concentric rings. As the ship moved toward the “bottom:” of the station gunnery positions and torpedo tubes large enough to launch shuttles could be seen. Some of their escort became visible coming through the clouds. They appeared to be fighter craft, with angular wings and multiple missiles and guns. 

“Those don’t look like phasers,” one of the bridge crew mused.

“They’re aren’t phasers, at least none like I’ve seen before,” commented Thoris.

More vessels followed, and others could be seen docking and leaving the station. Some had similar construction to the station itself, with both crystal and metal implemented into their hulls, while others were of makes completely unfamiliar to anyone in Yorktown’s crew. To their surprise several older models of more familiar ships (Klingon, Romulan, Cardassian, Ferengi) with significant modifications to their hulls were also docked near the bottom of the station.

The ship rotated to face the bottom of the station directly. At a close view it became clear that this portion of the station was as heavily fortified as the rest, if not more. An outer ring, separate from what appeared to be the “Xeno Section” had more armaments aimed out, down, and even toward the station itself than any Dominion or Breen orbital platform had ever boasted. 

“Particle accelerators,” Omar Leezak said to himself in the dining hall. 

“What?” Porter Bargin asked. They had been eating together when the tractor beam engaged.

“Particle accelerators,” Omar Leezak repeated. “Phasers are beam weapons, concentrating energy at the target. Those, those are cannons, true guns. They take some kind of ammunition and accelerate the particle to critical velocities and strike their targets with a direct and localized impact. I don’t know how they bypassed the shields, but this is how they disabled the Cardassian ship. Tiny holes penetrating vital systems.”

“They’ve aimed it at their own station,” Porter observed.

“They’ve aimed them at the ‘Xeno Section’ where we’re docking” Omar replied. “They could rip us and that part of the station to pieces if things got unruly.”

“You had best keep your Klingon temper to yourself then,” Porter half-teased. His feigned confidence was unconvincing. “Let’s hope you like them more than you do Bajorans.”

The ship jostled again as docking clamps took hold of the hull.

“Your air locks are insufficient,” the voice boomed over the coms. “We will be cutting a new one into your hull. Once this is complete a xenospecialist medical team with military escort will board your vessel. All personel will be screened and scanned. Thereafter you will await further instructions.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Thoris cried out enraged.  “Who do you think you are?  You can’t go around cutting holes in whatever ship you’d like!”  He talked to the voice, wherever it came from, but didn’t get a response back.

A large boom extended from the station and connected to the ship. In a matter of seconds a hole 3 by 5 meters was cut into two upper decks compromising unoccupied living quarters and a science lab.

Thoris swore in Andorian and turned to Bradley.  “Get a team together and get your asses up to that breach.  Have weapons ready, but do not fire!  I will meet you there.” 

Once the section of hull was removed and a group of humanoids stepped through. Nearly a dozen wore black uniforms with self contained breathing units and large clear face shields. They carried what appeared to be various pieces of medical equipment. Four occupied immense red robotic suits with an array of clamps and cutters on the arms and began adapted the compromised rooms for use as docking facilities. They were also accompanied by half a dozen humanoid figures in broad, heavy armor colored in such a deep green that it almost appeared black. Their faces were not visible, but from the form of the helmets they could be assumed to be at least vaguely humanoid. They stood well over 8 feet in height, and each carried an assault rifle close in size to a 20th century earth bazooka. Retractable blades lined their forearms, round detachable orbs lined their belts, and one carried a lighter but longer gun with a stand and a long belt of ammunition on his back. 

The security team lined the walls of the corridor in a defensive position.  Thoris was there, too, at the back, but holding only a phaser pistol set to stun.  “Don’t let your men fire unless they attack first, Milligan,” he insisted, and looked back at the newcomers. 

“Right, I’m Doctor Helen Couren,” the lead blacksuit said. “We will need room to perform screening and scanning, preferably where people can lie down. What would be the best location?”

Joint post:

Tervidian Boarding Crew

Doctor Helen Couren
Xeno Absorption and Emigration Specialist
14th Royal Legion

Commander Thoris ch’Tell
Chief Science Officer
USS Yorktown

Omar Leezak
Decryptionist 
USS Yorktown

Porter Bargin
Geologist
USS Yorktown

***Mission 2, Day 1, 1020 hours*** 

"Computer, time?"

"1020 hours," answered the standard feminine voice.
 
Yr'rum Bruht sat in the soft-padded chair in the otherwise vacant Head Counselor's office, his right leg bouncing nervously. Unable to stop himself, he jumped to his feet and began pacing the perimeter of the room, counting under his breath with each step. "One, two, three," he paused as he reached out to straighten a hanging picture on the wall. Yr'rum glanced down and picked at a small piece of lint that had tried to take residence on his right sleeve. He exhaled, did an about-face and began counting again. "One, two, three..." He stopped at the desk of Counselor Roux and bent down, eye-level with the surface. Disgusted, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the desk vigrously once, twice, three times. Curtly nodding in approval of his own work, he replaced the handkerchief and resumed his pacing and counting. "One, two, thr--," he had an idea and raced towards the doors, almost slamming into the opposite wall as his energy propelled him into the hallway. The Bolian subconsciously raised his hand and rubbed his bald crown once, twice, three times as he turned his head in either direction, three times per direction, searching. Not a soul. 

Yr'rum's breaths came faster as an overwhelming sense of doom came over him. It was not like the Counselor to be late...ever. Could she have tricked him? Surely not! She had been so helpful in their weekly meetings, she had practically smothered him with praise last week at his progress. But that had also been before he was ensnared in the mess of yesterday's attempted coup. Unsure of how to proceed he hurried back into Roux's office. He needed to talk to her! "One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three...." He sat once more and again, found his right leg bouncing anxiously. 

Suddenly the ship shook, tossing the unsuspecting Bolian to the floor. "What in the world?!" he exclaimed. No longer able to control himself, nerves on edge, Yr'rum shouted, slightly higher pitched than normal. "Computer, locate Counselor Roux!" 

"Counselor Roux is not aboard." 

"WHAT!?!?! But, but, but....." he sputtered. "But I need her! These..... appointments are part of m-, my, my.... t-t-treatment plan!" Yr'rum felt his stomach lurch as he felt his oxygen levels drop. His breaths came quick and fast. He burst out the doors and ran for the Bridge as if his life depended on it. 

Before he could take in his surroundings the Bolian bowled into the back of a very, very large ....something. A solid wall, no...being turned and pointed a giant gun in his face. Yr'rum gulped, counting quietly, "One, two.....," he suddenly spotted Lieutenant Milligan and Commander Ch'Tell across a huge opening with a team of security officers. "Counselor Roux is missing!" he called to them before his nerves lost it and he blacked out. 


Petty Officer Yr'rum Bruht (played by Jenn)
Helm Officer
USS Yorktown

***Mission 2, Day 1 10:40 hours***


=/\= Commander Thoris to Nurse Koshka, report to deck 2, sector 4 immediately. =/\=


It had been almost two days since they encountered this alien race, and the crew still hadn’t any idea who or what these aliens looked like.  It was apparent that they were humanoid now, but it was startling to see that they were so technologically advanced based the events in the last few hours. How could they have remained unnoticed?


Thoris studied them from his defensive position.  The one said her name was Doctor Helen Couren, which sounded very human, but there was something--maybe in their movements--that didn’t seem right.  The fact that they had the audacity to cut into the hull of their ship had really peeved him.


"We need to get them to let us walk away peacefully, we can’t get into a fight with whoever these people are. We have no advantage against these ships and we have people to find.” Bradley’s frustration kept climbing by every minute the lose.


Thoris acknowledged and agreed with his statement.  “Doctor Couren,” he addressed, stepping out from his defensive position.  “May I ask what is the meaning of your people’s invasive action?”


"Invasive?" Helen was surprised. Clearly they did not understand where they were or who they were dealing with. "Sir, you took invasive action by hurtling your vessel through the Queen’s Cloud. If you are referring to our installment of the airlock, it was merely a necessary modification to this vessel. All vessels within Queenspace belong to the Queen and need to be able to dock effectively at Her Luminescence’s stations.”


“May her glory never fade,” a chorus of baritone and bass voices resounded from within the massive battlesuits.  


“What is this bullshit?” Thoris spat.  “Starfleet records have no record of your people or your Queenspace.  You say we’ve trespassed on your territory, but we had no idea!  If you are so well established, how come you haven’t made yourselves known?”


“I am more human than not, sir,” Helen replied. “It is not for me to decide to whom the Queen reveals her glory.”


Petty Officer Bruht sat in a corner, clutching his knees to his chest, rocking, while quietly counting, "One, two, three. One...."


As Nala arrived, she turned her head to the side, glancing briefly at the man slowly rocking in the corner before turning her attention back to Commander Thoris. She noticed he looked rather annoyed. Wondering what had caused his annoyance, she glanced at the group in front of them.


Thoris turned his head in the direction of Nala.  He didn’t want to have to explain to her why he needed her here in front of the company, so he tried to relate the message by gesturing with his eyes and antennae. Nala gave a small nod. He turned back to the aliens. “If we submit to your demands, do you promise to not hurt any of the crew?”


“It is the law of Her Divine Luminescense Queen Tervathaki the Mighty and Fair that no person shall be treated with violence unless they have first violated her laws and demonstrated an unwillingness to comply with the consequences of their actions peacefully.”


Silence hovered in the air for a few seconds.  “This is Nurse Koshka, the head nurse of our ship.  She will direct you to our Sickbay,” Thoris said with a scowl.  “She will see to it that you are assisted with your work and that you do not step out of your bounds.”  Giving an annoyed look at Bruht, he pointed at him and added, “And take this one first.”


“This way.” Nala said, pointing towards the door as she went to retrieve Petty Officer Bruht from the corner. “Come with me,” she whispered gently, “You’ll be alright, I promise.” She straightened up, casting a wary look over her shoulder and began to lead the way to the sick bay.


“Excellent,” Helen said. She looked over her shoulder at one her battlesuited guardians. He nodded and gestured to several of the others. Helen, the medical team, and four of the battlesuits followed. The constructors and two of the battlesuits remained. The constructors immediately continued adapting the hole in the hull for their new airlock while the battlesuits began establishing a nest for the massive machine gun.   


Thoris turned to Bradley and uttered in a low voice.  “I don’t like this any more than you do, I’m sure.  I don’t trust them one bit, but they still outgun us.  Until we can get a message to Starfleet HQ, it’d probably be better to work with them passively.  The moment we have an advantage, I’d like to snap their necks.”


“That would be unwise,” a voice said. Suddenly another battlesuit, black with blue trim and smaller than the others (though still towering over Thoris) decloaked beside them. “I sincerely doubt you would be victorious.” The figure walked back through the airlock and disappeared onto the station.

He actually meant it as a joke, but perhaps, Thoris considered, everyone else saw him as a hot-headed Andorian spewing out insults and threats that he actually meant.  He would have to dial it back a little.  “No necessary violence,” he told Bradley.  “And it goes without saying that we need to keep eyes on them.  I’m going to see what this Helen gal can tell us.”  He stomped off after the herd of suited soldiers, momentarily slowing down.  The thought had occurred to him that he should inform the captain--old habits die hard.  But it was an idea.  “Milligan, see to it that Arron knows the severity of the situation.”  He didn’t say it, but he also meant so that Arron knows how childish he is running away from his problems.

******

This was a joint post by:

Commander Thoris ch'Tell
Chief Science Officer and Acting Commanding Officer
USS Yorktown

Lieutenant j/g Nala Koshka
Head Nurse
USS Yorktown

Lieutenant Bradley Milligan
Chief Security/Tactical Officer and Acting First Officer
USS Yorktown

Petty Officer Yr'rum Bruht (played by Jenn)
Helm Officer
USS Yorktown

Tervidian Boarding Crew (played by Daniel)

Doctor Helen Couren (played by Daniel)
Xeno Absorption and Emigration Specialist
14th Royal Legion

Mission 2: Day 3, 06:20 hours

"Yes, your Luminescence,” Viceroy Midalva bowed her head as the transmission ended. She held that position until the whirring sound of the holoprojector slowed and eventually halted entirely indicating the end of the transmission. Queen Tervathaki the Mighty and Fair was not one to be crossed with any kind of incivility. Midalva had never been one that brought her queen’s wrath upon her head. Perhaps this was why she had quickly risen through the ranks and was on her fourth assignment as a legionaire viceroy. She finally stood and looked into the shadows across the way where she knew four persons lurked. Only one emerged. 

“These are truly unique orders,” Khan Terroth said. “There is likely to be resistance to their implementation.”

“Such resistance will not deter the true servants of the Queen,” Midalva responded. She knew that the other three Khans of the 14th legion were measuring her from the shadows just as surely as Khan Terroth was from the light in front of her. “We will evaluate the usefulness of the Yorktown and her crew for the mission at hand. How is the quarantine progressing?”

“It has been two days,” Khan Terroth replied. He walked over and opened up a display screen near the holo projector. She could only just hear the Khans in the shadows moving to observe the display. “Doctor Couren has completed the scans of the entire crew. The acting captain, an Andorian known as Thoris Ch’Tell, has been trying to obtain information from her but she has remained suitably vague. Lord Cammander Horthik has informed me that the legion’s engineering corps are reviewing the ships systems and construction and preparing potential modification designs for you and he to review. With the exception of the health risk presented by the Bolians the crew may be permitted in to the lower xeno sections of the station.”

“What have we learned from the scans?” Midalva asked. She couldn’t remember who had originally invented the genetic memory mapping technology, or who had modified it to make it readily searchable, but she blessed their name and memory for making unsightly interrogations completely irrelevant. 

“A great deal of recent xeno history from the voids beyond the cloud,” Khan Terroth continued. “Including the context for the weapons fire our sensors detected on board the ship prior to our instructing them to dock. We were already aware that there was an attempted mutiny, however significant political unrest in the voidspace is to blame. There is much we can learn and possibly turn to the advantage of the queen’s objectives within this data.”

Midalva was aware of as much and had reported the initial findings to the Queen. Her orders had come as a response to this initial data. 

“We now know who was a part of the mutiny, what parts they played, why they participated, and why they failed.”

“And what have we learned about the shuttle that jumped to warp while still inside the shuttle bay?”

“That the leader of the mutiny and a female crew member were aboard, and that they have likely abducted a third member of the crew, a female with familial ties to one of the important factions in the federation’s possible splinter.”

“Do we know which faction has been dominant?” There were many factions in the voidspace beyond the cloud, Midalva could even name some. They would drift into Queenspace from time to time. They usually came in small groups. The largest wave in recent years had been groups trying to escape the chaos of what the outsiders called “the dominion war.” By now many of them had fulfilled their indenture and were free citizens of the Queendom. 

“The transmissions of the outsiders did not penetrate the borders of the cloud,” Khan Terroth said. “The Yorktowners carry varying beliefs but have only a broken transmission to provide any insight into the realities of the condition of the Federation. What little we know seems to indicate that some members of the Federation support a Bajoran government, and more support a continuing Earth government. Given what we’ve learned about the mutiny aboard the Yorktown, it seems suspect that the support given the Bajorans is purely voluntary.”

Khan Terroth shifted the display to bring up profiles of several members of the Yorktown crew. “These members of the crew were among the mutineers. Doctor Wells provided us with significant insights into the workings of the mutiny, though he clearly did not understand the full extent of the mission as his leader abandoned him when the mutiny failed.”

There was a the sound of the doors opening and closing and a tall, dark-blue Tervidian in a dress battle uniform entered the room.

“Lord Commander Horthik,” Midalva said. 

“Viceroy Midalva,” the Lord Commander bowed his head. “I trust that your conversation with her majesty was suitably enlightened.”

“The queen, may her glory never fade, has given us a potential direction,” Midalva replied. “It is up to us to determine how useful our latest acquisition can be and report so that a final decision may be made. Khan Teroth was just reporting on our progress with them thus far. I trust you have become familiar with his results.”

“I have indeed, Viceroy,” Horthik came to stand beside her. Terroth shifted the display again. “These individuals were low ranked members of the ship’s officers who rose to break the mutiny. They have proven adaptable and loyal and may make excellent servants among the loyal xenos of her majesty’s legions.”

“They may also prove the most resistant to becoming enlightened members of our society,” Midalva added. “The same traits that make one a remarkable ally can make them a remarkable enemy, Lord Commander.”

“It was wise of the Queen to appoint such an astute representative to honor the 14th Legion,” Horthik said. She wasn’t sure whether he was being genuine or patronizing. It was hard to tell with Horthik. Everything that left his lips had a similar delivery, but there was a sharp mind and a quick wit behind the stoic face. She had seen him with his consort on a few rare occasions. He smiled and bantered then with a mind almost as agile as the greatest of females, despite being of the duller gender. Such males were rare commodities, and became precious and vital resources for the Queen’s legions. Tervidian males typically could not be considered stupid, they often were head and shoulders above other races in intellect as well as stature, but their natural brutality and fanatical devotion to the queen could hamper their higher thinking. They needed directing. Horthik’s direction was his legion. He was clever, adaptable, and carried the ideals of the throne into his decisions.  But that veiled wit and clever mind could be dangerous. She could not always predict what he was thinking, what he wanted, or how he would choose to implement an order from the Queen. The same could be said of Khan Terroth, though he was clever and unpredictable in far more ruthless ways. No matter. The queen had asked her to hold the leashes of her dogs, and since those dogs were meant for battle it was well that they had teeth. She just needed to ensure that those teeth were not directed at her. 

“What of the captain of the vessel, Drexel?” She asked.

“He has abdicated the captaincy,” Horthik said. “He believes that he allowed romantic complications and indecision to cloud his judgement and fail to prevent the mutiny.”

“Do these beliefs have merit?” Midalva inquired of Khan Terroth.

“They are not without merit,” Khan Terroth answered carefully.

“Was their chief of security also caught unaware?” 

“He was,” Horthik said. “But he also disabled the weapons of the mutineers on the bridge and managed to prevent their takeover of the bridge.”

“This is true,” Khan Terroth added. “May I ask what direction the Viceroy is going with this information.”

Midalva couldn’t help but smile. “Lord Commander, if you are amenable, I propose that the crew of the Yorktown be permitted to observe the ways of free citizens and indentured servants of the Queendom on the lower Xeno decks.”

“With the exception of the Bolians, I presume,” the Lord Commander replied. 

“I heard mention of a health risk,” Midalva said. “Clearly you will act in whatever way best protects the health and interests of the Queendom. Just try to avoid liquidating any of them if it isn’t absolutely necessary.”

“Yes, Viceroy.”

“I would also like to propose another action to be taken in the name of the queen.”

“May her beauty enlighten all living,” Horthik said. “What is this proposal?”

“Arrest Drexel and his security chief.”

“On what charge?” Khan Terroth asked. 

“Failure to protect a female,” the Viceroy replied. “Have them brought before myself and the station’s justicar. Gather all known data on the abduction of the female taken by the mutineer. I anticipate a briefing for myself and the justicar within the hour.”

“Yes, Viceroy,” intoned both Horthik and Khan Terroth. “For the Queen, may her glory never fade!”

“May the stars of her eyes ever shine,” Midalva said. 



Viceroy Midalva, 14th Legion

Khan Terroth, 14th Legion

Lord Commander Horthik, 14th Legion

Mission 2 Day 3 0700 hours

A sound not unlike a gong rang over the intercoms of the Yorktown. It was immediately followed by a rich baritone voice.

"Crew of the Yorktown. Your quarantine period had been completed and your medical results have been evaluated. All crew members excepting Bolians have received the Queen's invitation through her Voice to the 14th Legion Viceroy Midalva to explore the lower dedicated Xeno levels of her Luminescence's border station. You are to follow all Laws and signage during your visit. Failure to abide by her Luminescence's law will not be tolerated and will be addressed fairly and justly. Again, the invitation is not extended to Bolians. That is all."

There was another ringing of the gong and the coms wet quiet.

***Mission 2, Day 2, 1120 hours***

The wailing alarms caused Sumo’s eyes to shoot open. The shuttle lurched as it decelerated from warp much faster than was customary. The inertial compensators struggled to keep up with the decrease in velocity, and Sumo found himself hurtling forward into the console in front of him. From behind him a second thud could be heard as something heavy slammed into the bulkhead. He heard a muffled sound of pain and realized that Roux had been thrown against the side of the shuttle, the impact causing her to wake up from the drug induced sleep Sumo had placed her in.

Sumo attempted to peel himself off the console he was currently sprawled out across. He could taste blood in his mouth, a result of the impact of his face against the piloting controls. “Computer, report!” Sumo shouted angrily, as the shuttle continued to shake. Sumo dropped back into the pilots chair as a bright flash illuminated the forward view port.

“Emergency Warp Engine shutoff due to impending collision,” came the computers dry reply.

“Source of collision?” Sumo asked as he glanced at the alerts on the screen.

“There are 109 vessels in the vicinity,” stated the computer. “Their erratic flight patterns made any automatic course correction too dangerous to calculate at current speed. Emergency protocols required an immediate shutdown of warp engines.”

Another flash caught Sumo’s eyes. And suddenly he realized what he was seeing. A battle. “How far from Bajor are we?”

“56 million kilometers,” was the computers answer.

“So we are close...about 4 minutes away at warp,” Sumo said to himself

“Affirmative,” came the unrequested confirmation.

Camille righted herself, with some effort as her hands were bound behind her. Her leg looked as if it had been bandaged by an amateur, but whatever Sumo had given her at least helped with the pain. It had been dulled to a throb temporarily. "Bajor? Really?! Like it won't be one of the first places they come to look for me! Did you think any of this through?"

“Silence!” Sumo said whirling around towards the voice behind him. He wasn’t sure how she had managed to remove the gag from her mouth, but there were too many things going on right now to worry about replacing it.

He turned back towards the main console. “Computer scan the vessels ahead, and identify,” he ordered.

“Eighty nine vessels are of Federation design, Five are Breen, and 15 are of unknown origin.”

“The Breen? What are they doing here?” Sumo asked, questioning why a reclusive Alpha Quadrant species that had allied itself with the Cardassians and Dominion would be involved in a massive battle on Bajor’s doorstep.

“Insufficient data available to make such an analysis,” quipped the computer.

“Right...” muttered Sumo. “Put the unidentified ship on screen” Sumo commanded, and looked over his left shoulder as the screen flashed to show a dark red angular vessel. On the wing of the craft, which looked to be about the size of a Federation Defiant class vessel, was a yellow symbol; an oval with a small circle towards the bottom middle, and a jagged line, almost like a bolt of lightning that connected the small circle, to the top of the oval. Sumo’s heart swelled with pride at the recognition of The Circles insignia.

He watched the vessel as it formed up with a Federation nebula class starship, with its saucer section so similar to that of the Yorktown, and was surprised to see the two ships make an attack run together on a different Federation designed ship, an Excelsior refit class. As both attacking ships strafed their target, the slower but more powerful nebula class concentrating long arcs of phaser fire on the port nacelle, and the smaller, nimbler, and faster Bajoran ship unleashed a volley of blue quantum torpedoes at the same target, cutting through the void in the shields that the phasers had burned through, a massive explosion erupted as the excelsiors warp drive went critical. The resulting explosion was so intense that Sumo’s video feed went out, the sensors unable to cut through the energy of the fireball.

What Sumo had learned was that indeed there were Federation ships fighting along side Bajorans, meaning a full fledged civil war was currently underway. He turned to sneer at Camille, “It looks like that father of yours has failed to keep the fleet united.”

"And YOU failed to take over a single starship! Who had the easier task, dumb ass?!" Camille retorted. Their relationship may be rocky but she was not going to let some pathetic, bumpy-nosed bastard ruin the respect she did have for her father.

Before Sumo could respond, another alarm sounded and Sumo spun around to see the massive underside of a ships hull looming over the shuttles forward viewport. The large vessel absolutely dwarfed the shuttle in size, and it took Sumo a few moments to recognize it as a Sovereign class starship, Starfleet’s longest vessel in service.

The ship silently glided over the shuttle, and his video feed suddenly came on, a older officer, bald, fair skinned, Human, and dressed in an Admiral’s uniform sat in the Captains chair, his face looked somewhat familiar, though Sumo couldn’t quite figure out where he knew the man.

“Shuttle Euphrates, you are entering a war zone, please state your intended purpose!” demanded the man. Even his voice was familiar.

Sumo guessed that the Admiral’s uniform, the capital ship he commanded, and of course being human, meant that he likely wasn’t here to defend Gyntil Daala. Sumo knew he had to think fast, or this was the end of the line for him.

“Admiral, am I glad to see you sir! I am Commander Sumo, first officer of the USS Yorktown,” he reached down to pull his phaser off his utility belt, set it to stun, and aimed it at Roux from under his other arm, concealed from the view screen so that the Starfleet Admiral could not see it.

“The Yorktown!” said the admiral, “That’s my son's command. What the hell are you doing all the way out here!?” the old man said warily.

Camille snapped her head up to the view screen at the Admiral's words. She had seen Sumo's hidden movement with the phaser and knew her window was small. Very small, indeed. She just needed the right moment... Gritting her teeth in hope of stopping any noise from escaping her, she inched slowly, silently to her left. Pushing with her good leg and foot, and essentially pulling with her rear, she made it to the opposite side of Sumo's turned figure. Cursing inwardly, she knew she was still out of sight from the Admiral.

Sumo realized right away why the Admiral looked so familiar. Add 30 or 40 years to Arron, and he was the spitting image of his father. Their voices were practically identical.

Camille turned herself, again using her good leg and waited.

“Sir we were attacked in the nebula by Cardassians, I was able to escape with Ensign Roux, a-

“Roux is with you!?” Admiral Drexel said his eyes widening.

Knowing this was probably her best chance, Camille propelled her body backward with a hard kick off the wall, instant pain rushing to her brain from the puncture in her leg. She laid back as she came to a stop, hoping to God that her motion was at least visible on screen, if not her face. "He's a damn liar and traitor, Admiral!" she yelled. "Hel-" Her words were lost as she was hit with Sumo's phaser shot.

In an instant he had cut the video feed, and was cursing in Bajoran. He put the shuttle into a roll, pointing the nose of the craft towards Bajor and slammed his fist down to activate the shuttles warp drive. He knew he would never outrun the Admiral's flagship, but he also knew if he could just make it inside the chaos of the battle, he stood a better chance of finding some help, and that Daala’s fleet would be able to draw some fire from the Sovereign class ship. He watched his sensor screen and saw the Sovereign class vessel coming about. “Computer how long until that vessel would intercept us?”

“41 seconds” said the computer.

Sumo cursed again, slamming both hands town on his console. He spun around to look at Camille’s unconscious form. “Stupid bitch!” he yelled, then spit at her. A smile then curled his lips. She would pay for this...oh she would absolutely pay. The moment he got to a safe area, he would destroy Camille’s spirit, forever.

Focusing his attention back on the screens in front of him, he saw the shuttle drawing closer and closer to the battle. dozens of ship contacts were popping up. He was taking a big risk forcing the ship to warp this close to a battle, but as the saying goes, ‘fortune favors the bold”

“15 seconds until intercept” the computer reminded him.

He thumbed on the comm system and opened a channel towards the Bajoran flotilla.

“This is The First Emissary of The Prophets, I have with me the Sacrifice of Cleansing! I am being pursued by non believers and need immediate back up!”

***************

This has been a joint post by

Sumo (played by Elijah)
1st Emissary of The Circle
Bajor

Ensign Camille Roux
Head Counselor
Bajor

**Mission 2, Day 2, 1800 hours**

Arron was sitting in his new quarters, they were quite a bit smaller than the accommodations he held as the ships Captain, but since his resignation, he had made every effort to distance himself from everything that tied him to that life. He was relaxing on his couch, reading an old mystery novel he had enjoyed some years before. “The Voidstar” by Krell Adante. Arron had no idea what other books the alien had written, but he had enjoyed this one on many occasions.

One benefit of not being a member of Starfleet was that he now got to wear far less restrictive clothing. He was dressed comfortable in tan fabric trousers, and had a long sleeved button up red shirt that fit loosely.

The lighting in the room was soft, and a dinner plate sat on the end table next to his couch, an untouched meal sitting atop the plate, as Arron hadn’t had much of an appetite of late.

Nala stood apprehensively outside Arron’s door, unsure if she should push the call button. With all the activity on board she hadn’t seen him at all, even though she had looked for him, and she had the distinct feeling he had been avoiding her. She had been nervously pacing in front of his door for more than half an hour, glaring at the call button, trying to make up her mind. Realizing she probably looked like a fool, she reached out for the button, gently pressing it.

Arron sighed as he heard his door chime. His mind went over the myriad of individuals that were likely to be beating down his door right now. Perhaps it was Thoris looking for advice on how to deal with the aliens, Tervidians as they called themselves, and the space station they were now docked at. Perhaps Bradley coming to check on his old captain, or Luther here to accost him regarding David Mayne again. “Come in!” he said finally, figuring whomever it was he would have to deal with sooner or later.

Nala hesitated when she heard his voice. Maybe she should have waited for him to come to her. But there was nothing she could do about it now. With a sigh, she walked through the door, coming face to face with Arron.

Arron rose from the couch as the door opened, and his eyes fell on Nala’s face. A mixture of emotions rose up within him, and he quickly attempted to stifle them, knowing the Betazoid was likely picking up every single one of them. “Nala...” he said silently.

“Hello Arron.” she whispered, taking in his appearance. He looked tired. Glancing at his face, she noticed a flurry of emotions before he got them under control. “I, um, well I just wanted to check on you....” she started, not sure of what else she should say.

“Oh, yeah. Of course” Arron said, feeling the awkwardness of the moment. “Yeah, uh, please have a seat” he said. “How do you like the new place?” he said mind scrambling to think of something to say. He hadn’t expected Nala to show up, and suddenly felt incredibly guilty because of it.

“Oh... It’s nice..” she said, wondering why the conversation seemed so generic. “So, what have you been doing since, well you know..? I haven’t been able to talk to you...” she said, glancing at his face once more.

Arron didn’t need telepathic abilities to tell Nala was feeling just as unusual about this as he was. He collapsed into the couch behind him, exhaling loudly. “Okay...I didn’t want...well I didn’t think you would be able to understand what I was going through, and... well I know you’ve been busy with the Tervidians. I just thought maybe some time to myself to figure things out would benefit us...” he said knowing already how pathetic that sounded. He wasn’t very good at this whole relationship thing yet.

“Benefit us...” she repeated, still looking at him, her mind on the excuses he was struggling to make seem acceptable. “How exactly does avoiding me, keeping everything to yourself, benefit us?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Arron looked up and met her gaze. He felt completely powerless sitting on the couch, looking up at the woman, standing firm, black eyes blazing into his. “If it makes you feel any better, I really did want to see you...but I have been ignoring everyone. Bradley came by earlier, I told him I wasn't feeling well. Someone else stopped by a few hours ago, I didn't even bother to find out who it was...” his voice trailed hoping she wouldn't respond that it was her.

“Is that really supposed to make me feel better? The fact that you’re hiding away from everyone, especially me? I’m supposed to be there for you Arron. That’s part of being in a relationshi-”

Arron stood up abruptly “This relationship got people killed!” Arron said his voice rising quickly. “David Mayne is dead! Kerren is dead, Camille has been abducted!” He could feel his face redden and his nostrils flare. “This is exactly why Captains can not be in a compromising situation like a relationship. I failed my crew and my ship, and every oath I swore to uphold!” He could feel his fists tightening as he drilled the words towards Nala.

“So, let me make sure I understand what you’re saying. If we had never gotten together, Sumo and Wells wouldn’t have planned a mutiny, no one would have died, that none of this would have ever happened? Because if that’s what you’re saying, then you are just as cowardly and moronic as everyone else seems to think you are! I came here to try and understand you, find some way to help you, but since you can’t seem to look past your own guilt and realize that this whole situation was so much bigger than you, then I’ve clearly wasted my time. Goodbye Arron.” she said as she turned, stomping towards the door.

“Maybe you can help” Arron said softly as she walked away from him.

Nala paused, glancing back at him.

“Remember that thing you did where you showed me what happened in your day by connecting our minds?”

“Yes.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, anger still flooding through her.

“Does it work the other way around? Are you able to experience something that happened to me, through my eyes?” he asked, looking at her longingly.

“Yes.” she said again. “Why?”

“I don’t think I could ever properly explain to you why I feel the way I do, but it might be helpful for you to experience what happened to me yesterday morning in the morgue with Luther...” he hoped she would understand his plea, and kept his gaze fixed on her face.

“Fine.” she huffed, slowly walking back over to him, looking into his eyes. “Just look into my eyes and concentrate on the memory. I’ll do the rest.”

Looking into Nala’s eyes was never going to be difficult for Arron. They were his favorite feature about her...well except maybe that damn shampoo she used. He stared into the black iris of her eyes, his own face softened as he did so. He then thought back to yesterday's encounter with Luther. The words, the anger, the physicality of the encounter, the mourning, the loss of a friend, it was all so fresh and occupied so much of what Arron had been dealing with internally for the last 36 hours, that this was very easy to recall. He started to feel slightly dizzy, his equilibrium was off balance, and he clutched underneath her arms, grabbing her waist to steady himself.

Nala began to see flashes of everything that Arron had experienced the day before. From Luther’s seething anger, to his grief over the loss of David, to the anger he felt at himself. She began hearing little snippets of conversation and she felt herself becoming angry over some of the things that had been said, knowing them to be untrue.

She knew that as the Captain, Arron should have been on top of the situation from the start, that he should have questioned Sumo and Wells as soon as any sort of proof was put in front of him. But she knew that even if he had done things as they should have been done, things still would have ended up this way. It had been too well planned out for there to not have been a back-up plan. And if she hadn’t been with him that night, he would probably either be dead or abducted, the same as Camille.

“Arron... I know how all of this makes you feel, and I’m beginning to realize that it is very unlikely that anything I say will make you feel any differently, but there is NO way you could have prevented this from happening. I can’t pretend to know the hardships of being a leader, someone who is supposed to act a certain way, do certain things, or bear the burden of having that much responsibility. But there will always be things that will happen that are out of your control. It’s a fact of life and it’s something you are obviously having a hard time understanding.” she said knowing he wasn’t going to take it well. But she was standing her ground. She wasn’t going to let him be some cowardly, pathetic little man. She knew he was better than that.

“Maybe you are right, Nala,” he said pulling his arms away from her waist as the connection between their minds was broken. “But the Yorktown deserves a Captain who can put their needs above his own, and I have proven that I am not that person. I am sure that with some time, I will be able to cope with what has happened, but until then, I need to heal.” He said giving her a solemn look.

Nala looked at him incredulously. “Do you even realize how asinine you sound right now Arron?!” she screeched. “Are you even listening to yourself?!”

Arron’s eyes flashed in irritation. “I had hoped you would be more willing to let me work through this the way I feel best, having you berating me isn't exactly helping my situation right now” Arron said, trying to keep his voice even.

“I’m not going to sit here and be a part of your little pity party-”

“Well, it’s not like I asked you to come!” Arron said cooly.

“Damn you Arron!” she screamed, her frustration rising. “You could not have done anything to stop this! And to blame our relationship for everything that has happened is as ridiculous as you are right now! I’m not dealing with this anymore. If this is how you want to punish yourself, by being alone for the rest of your life, then have it your way! I’m leaving!” she yelled, tears in her eyes as she turned and ran for the door.

“Damn” Arron muttered under his breath as the door slid shut behind her.


******
This has been a joint post by

Arron Drexel
Civilian
USS Yorktown

Nala Koshka
Head Nurse
USS Yorktown

****Mission 2, Day 3 09:15 hours****

Omar Leezak had been among the first to cross the boom the the Tervidian station. He had been impressed. There was a shielded machine gun nest and a dozen armed guards on the Yorktown side of the new airlock. Only two were the enormous heavy armored titans they all presumed were the Tervidians. He recalled hearing them referred to as grunts during their medical examinations. Eight of the other ten were still larger than Omar, but not by a lot. They deferred to the large Tervidians. He hadn’t heard any name listed for these, but their armor was lighter and significantly more maneuverable than that of the grunts. They all carried combination assault rifles and dart guns. That was something else he’d noticed about the Tervidians and their “xenos:” no beam weapons. It was curious that they were so advanced and yet would choose to rely on weapons that had finite ammunition. The remaining two he recognized as part of the “xeno medical team.” He was sure that there was some other word in the Tervidian’s language for non-tervidians. Xeno must have been the closest and most innocuous word that the universal translater could come up with.

As he crossed the boom to the station he noticed two things; the first that there were cameras, sensors, automated weapons and several collapsible bulkheads throughout the boom; the second that there were also intricately painted carvings lining the hull depicting what he presumed to be the queen bathed in starlight with people dancing, bowing, harvesting crops, climbing mountains, battling immense creatures, and a myriad of other things all around her.

“May her glory never fade,” he said, pausing at one with the Queen aboard a great starship bombarding the side of a planet. These people meant business. He crossed into the station. The airlock on this end was equally well fortified, though no grunts were present. He could see a control room above the cargo bay sized entry port. There were large doors opening to space to his left. It looked like they were prepared to jettison the contents of the room should defense of the Queen’s sovereign territory require it. Once through security, where he had been thoroughly scanned and patted down by some short and furry race resembling a fanged ape, he found that the xeno section was not unlike many other stations he’d been on. There were many races represented, even some he was familiar with, though none seemed especially interested in interacting with him just yet. He thought he’d even seen a few Klingons. He followed them into a bar, but lost them there. The bar tender, a short, greenfaced being that identified himself as Dylark Dorgasso, had been very conversational. He was in the middle of explaining the Queen’s Legions when a troop of Tervidians and their smaller servitors marched by in the direction of the Yorktown.

“That, my new friend, is trouble,” Dylark said pointing.

“What do you mean?” Omar asked.

“You saw the shorter Tervidian in the void-black armor leading that bunch?”

“I did.”

“That is Khan Terroth, a special servant of the Queen herself. The man is legendary for his cunning, his ruthlessness, and most of all his utter undying devotion to her majesty.”

“And he is heading for my ship.”

“You had better stay here, friend,” Dylark counciled. “If he is openly leading a squad of grunts and Grumatals like that then they plan on taking someone, or several someones. into custody in such a way that everyone knows it happened.”

“And how do you know that?” Omar asked.

“Because I’ve seen it happen,” Dylark explained. “And if the legends about Khan Terroth have any merit, if he didn’t want it that way you’d simply have a disappearance, or a body on your hands.”


Omar Leezak
Decryptionist
USS Yorktown

****Mission 2, Day 3 09:20 hours****

Khan Terroth led the justicar’s apprehension squad onto the Yorktown. The starfleet crew members on the boom had moved aside readily enough. Eight grunts and a dozen Grumatals were enough to take their entire ship if this went badly. He expected there could be complications. This was Midalva’s plan, and Midalva often intended for there to be complications. So be it. If it served the greater glory of the Queen he had no objection. The laws of Queenspace had been breached. Typically justice was just as easily served by him and him alone, but there were the Queen’s orders regarding the Yorktown. If this was how Viceroy Midalva intended to carry them out why should he complain?

A starfleet security officer met him at the airlock. He appeared woefully inadequate in the face of the small garrison the Lord Commander had placed to manage the xenos’ access to the station.

“May I help you, sir,” the man said. He was Vulcan, if Khan Terroth was remembering the species list correctly. They followed logic as a religion. It was strange, certainly, but they seemed to be doing well enough.

“Inform your acting captain that two members of your crew have been charged with crimes of a serious nature to her Luminescence the Queen,” Khan Terroth said. “If you will direct us to their locations we will extract them and hold their trials without delay.”

“May I ask to which crewmen you are referring and what crime they have been charged with?” the vulcan inquired.

“Arron Drexel and Bradley Milligan,” Khan Terroth explained flatly. “They have been charged with failure to protect a female, both generally throughout the mutiny on your ship, and specifically in the cases of Camille Roux and Keren Dyleese.”

********

Thoris tried paying Arron a visit earlier to get a straight answer about his resignation, but of course the coward hold up in his new quarters and refused to answer the door. He let the man be.

It was curious to hear that the Tervidians were familiar enough with Andorians as a race, but seemed to lack many of the specifics of their biology and culture. Thoris asked Helen during his physical inspection whether there were Andorians on the station, but he never got a direct answer.

The Tervidians seemed to behave themselves--no funny business, from what Thoris observed. In all their actions, they seemed moral and just, despite what had happened at the beginning. It made Thoris even more suspicious.

Thoris was aware of a few of the crew members that had already gone into the station, but he himself had been hesitant. From his talks with Helen, he found that the Tervidians were a matriarchal society--it made sense with all their talk about their queen. What was their view on Andorian gender? Did they consider the shen (the one who gives life to the gemetes) to be the equivalent to a female, or did they consider the zhen (the one who carries the gemetes until birth) the equivalent to a female? Or were Andorians considered a Tervidian abomination?

It was all too much to think about for now, yet here he was pacing around the captain’s ready room, unwilling to sit down in the chair that should have belonged to Arron. Maybe he was stressing out too much about the situation. Maybe he should just stop worrying and let the Tervidians tend to him and the crew?

=/\= Lt. L’del to Commander ch’Tell, =/\= a voice chimed from his combadge, =/\= We have a unit of guards here to arrest Arron and Lt. Milligan. They have proceeded on and are looking for Lt. Milligan. =/\=

=/\= Wait, why are they being arrested? =/\= Thoris inquired.

=/\= They said that the two have broken laws of the queen: they did not protect females during the mutiny, and they did not prevent the kidnapping of Counselor Roux or the death of Kerrin Dyleese. =/\=

Thoris sneered, a vein popping up on his forehead. =/\= Thanks for the report, Lieutenant. I will intercept them; I think I know where Bradley is. Ch’Tell out. =/\= At the end of the message, he marched out the sliding doors and straight towards the turbolift, upset at the new surprise he had to deal with.

Of course, their most recent actions left him itching to slap each one of them upside the head. Arresting the two commanding officers who were in charge at the time of the mutiny on the charge of “not protecting a female” was ludicrous. Thoris had no beef (he loved this Earth colloquialism) with Arron being arrested for the time being. Bradley, however, didn’t make much sense--both Bradley and Thoris were on the bridge when the abduction happened. Keren Dyleese had attacked them directly, and with Roux there was nothing they could do, especially with their intership communication as slow as it was.

He had to do something. This was his ship now, like it or not, and his crew, like it or not. He gave the helmsman the com and rushed to intercept.


JP by Khan Terroth and Thoris Ch’tell
(feel free to edit this tag)

***Mission 2, Day 3 1244 hours***


Bright neon lights flashed in the establishment, causing the smoke filled space to seemingly glow. The bar was packed with dozens of alien species drinking the local spirits, gambling their hard earned wages on games of chance, and smoking a popular Tervidian herb that grew on Famas 7, one of the conquered planets under Tervidian rule. The noise level was at its typical decibel, where the occasional cheer roared out from a gambling table, or a glass tumbler shattering on the floor after being clumsily knocked over by its inebriated owner, and of course the obligatory bar fight that seemed to break out when someone had spent just a little too long staring down the bust line of anothers female companion.


A troupe of Sukeseans, one of the first races to capitulate to the Tervidians, was performing on a small stage in the back, though no one seemed to be paying them much notice. The band were regulars whose style of low rhythmic percussion and high pitched vocals had not proved extraordinarily popular as an attraction, but they appealed to Jassad because they were cheap, and Jassad had spent 17 years of his life working hard to save as much money as he could to purchase his freedom and subsequent passage out of the Nebula for him and his son. The reclusive Tervidians placed such a huge premium on the price of freedom that he had only known 2 beings that had saved the capital necessary to leave “the cloud” as it was commonly referred to by the locals. And rumor was that both had received mind wipes prior to their departure.


Jassad watched as a new batch of arrivals entered the promenade of the Tervidian space station. Starfleet officers. He shook his head as he cleared some empty liquor bottles from the game table that had just emptied of its participants. He took the glasses back to the bar and slid them down to where his son was cashing out a customer. He hopped across the counter gracefully and placed his hand on his son’s shoulders then leaned in close to his ear, and spoke in a low voice “Dorvin, look at this” he said nodding in the direction of the recently arrived Starfleet officers.


His son looked up following his father's gaze, and then snorted. “Starfleet? In the cloud? I guess it was only a matter of time.”


Jassad squeezed his son’s shoulder. “This may be our ticket out of here”


“right....” his son said in his typically aggravating sarcastic tone. ‘“Keep dreaming old man”


Jassad resisted the urge to smack the teenager, and straightened up as one of the officers approached the bar.


The patron cautiously approached assessing the seating predicament which was a result of several aliens unevenly dispersed among the barstools.


Jassad smirked to himself as he watched the man, brow furled, assessing where to sit. He was probably looking for an ‘island’, a stool with two empty stools next to it. “Not happening at this hour,” Jassad mused as the man perked up and finally sat in a stool next to a burly male alien attempting to pick up on a prickly faced female, obviously of a different species.


Jassad leaned over to his son again, who was also watching the Human out of the corner of his eye, and whispered, “You have to hand it to him. Only 30 seconds in my bar and he’s already identified the seat closest to the tap.” Jassad picked a towel up from off the counter and tossed it over his shoulder, before sliding over to stand in front of the newcomer.


“Congratulations, you are the first Starfleet officer to patron my bar,” Jassad said smiling at the man, whom he recognized as a junior grade lieutenant, due to the rank insignia on his collar. The middle aged man looked far too old for his rank, and Jassad was always wary of things that were oddly out of place. “What can I get you Lieutenant?” Jassad asked while reaching under the counter and pulling out a couple of clean shot glasses. He held them up to the light making sure there was no streaks, or marks that would give the customer an excuse to demand a free drink.


“It’s Mike. What are they smoking in here? Where can I get that?” The officer waited for a reply which Jassad withheld as a point of control. Finally the patron relaxed and asked, “What do you have that will get me drunk and how can i pay for it?”.


“Mike,” Jassad repeated. “You ask too many questions.” The Cardassian turned around to pull a bottle, ⅓ full of a dark black substance from the liquor rack behind the bar, and unscrewed the cap.


“Let’s start you off with something you might be somewhat familiar with.” Jassad said turning back to face Mike. “Kanar” he announced as he poured 2 finger lengths of the thick Cardassian beverage into one glass, sliding it closer to Mike, and then the second glass he poured to himself.


“Never trust a Cardassian who doesn’t enjoy a glass of kanar every now and then” Jassad said raising the tumbler in a mock toast, before promptly downing its contents. He watched as Mike picked up the shot glass and scrutinized it closely, tilting it slightly to the left and the right as the thick liquid silently slid back and forth.


The man identifying himself as ‘Mike’ hoisted his glass to the light as if in an attempt to verify the opacity of the liquid for himself. Then he slowly rolled it around in the glass watching the thick liquid slowly run back down the interior into the dark pool in the bottom of the glass.


Jassad cocked an eyebrow as he poured another shot for himself. “What’s the matter Starfleet? The Federation hasn’t added kanar to its replicator databanks yet?”


Mike simply raised one eyebrow, cocked his head back and threw the whole glass down his throat. He slammed the glass down on the bar as if to say, “give me another dammit!”, and then promptly grabbed it up again and spit everything he could muster out of his mouth right back into the shot glass. He picked up the glass, now full spit full of tiny glassy bubbles intermixed with the thick kanar, and inspected it just as before. “Stuff doesn’t want to let go of your mouth, does it?, he said.


“Tell you what, you finish that drink, and I will answer your questions” Jassad said in jest capping the kanar bottle, now just at a quarter full, and placed it back on the rack behind the bar.


“Fair enough,” agreed Mike. “To old friends” he said after a deliberate pause raising the glass of spit and kanar in the air in toast.


Something in the way in which he said ‘old friends’ made Jassad tilt his head ever so slightly to the side. He raised his refilled glass and clinked it against Mike’s partially full glass. “And to new ones” Jassad added, watching as the human brought the beverage to his lips and then threw the contents into the back of his mouth. All the wiser this time the human sucked the kanar out of his mouth and swallowed it.


Jassad laughed heartily. “Well some call it an acquired taste, but I must admit, once I learned I would be spending so long here, the thought of not having a glass now and then actually worried me. I have been keeping what stock I have of the drink preserved as best I can.” he said as if Mike should be impressed.


Jassad emptied his drink, and smacked his lips. “Boy!” he called to his son Dorvin.


The lad was quick to respond, the discipline he showed pleased Jassad greatly. “Watch the bar, I am going to have a chat with my new friend here”


Jassad leaped back over the counter, again showing agility that would surprise those that judged him by the lines on his face, and the grey that mottled his black hair. He pulled a stool up and set down on it with one leg resting on a rung of the stool, the other casually hanging down to the ground.


“The names Jassad. Jassad Tain” he said watching Mike’s eyes for any recognition of his last name. How well do you know your Cardassian history, Lieutenant thought Jassad.


The human officer replied, “Still Mike.”


Jassad studdied the man briefly, before deciding to answer one of his earlier questions. “Yorrik” Jassad said pointing to a group of various aliens. Mike looked at Jassad in confusion, but when the Cardassian did not explain, he simply followed Jassad’s gaze and watched the group. One creature, distinctly insectile, with a large bulbous head and two equally impressive mandibles clacking together on either side of a triangular shaped mouth, was passing around bright purple thin sticks among other humanoids around their booth. It appeared to Mike that the sticks resembled a straw one might use to drink a beverage, only these ‘straws’ were over a foot long.


The group took turns smacking the sticks on the table, and Jassad saw the look of surprise on Mike’s face when after each stick was slammed against the surface of the table, a thin wispy trail of smoke would rise from the end of it. The aliens would then place the long stick into their mouth, and inhale deeply, followed by a long slow exhale, and pure white smoke would fill the surrounding area.


“Yorrik” Jassad said again. “It is an herb that grows on a specific planet within the cloud.” And Jassad could already see the next question forming on Mike’s lips, “You can’t purchase any in this establishment. The Tervies, uh Tervidians, have some law on selling herbs and alcohol or synthohol in the same establishment.” Jassad did nothing to hide the annoyance in his voice. “Don’t ask me why, I’ve been here for 17 years and won’t pretend I know everything about these people. Anyway, there are a plethora of vendors around the station selling Yorrik.” Jassad smiled and continued, “But unless Starfleet started issuing cred-coins as a stipend, you are not going to be able to afford it.”


“Cred coins are universal I take it? Not just for herbal luxuries?,” replied mike. “Does Federation monies have no value for exchange here?”


Jassad laughed heartily drawing curious looks from personages in the vicinity. “Federation money?!” Jassad clapped the human on the back, perhaps a little harder than he intended. “Your a funny human, Lieutenant. I like you”. Jassad leaned back on his barstool stretching his back as he did so. “No gold pressed latinum saved away for a rainy day?” Jassad asked.


When Mike didn’t answer, Jassad nodded and looked around the bar, everyone seemed to be minding their own business, so he turned back towards Mike. He leaned in a little closer, “I...might” he emphasized the word heavily, “have an opportunity for you to earn. But I need you to do something for me first. Think of it as a test” Jassad said his lips curling into a smile.


Again Mike was stoic.


Jassad smiled, and with a voice barely louder than a whisper stated, “Your ships replicator databanks”


Mike scoffed out loud. “You want the replicator database? Thanks, but no thanks! I’ll have to numb my brain elsewhere.”


“Shhh!” Jassad hissed. “Fool! Keep your voice down! The last thing we need is some grunt with ambitions of making khan to overhear you!” Jassad tried to glance around the bar as casually as possible. No one had seemed to notice, or had otherwise paid no heed to Mike’s comment.


“The Tervies,” Jassad continued, this time not bothering to correct his use of the derogatory racial slur aliens used to describe the Tervidians, “have tight control over the station replicators. Unlike your Federation ship, we can’t just replicate clothes, blankets, tools....or weapons” he said the last word slowly. “We can only replicate food, drink, consumables, things like that. With a Federation computer databank...well lets just say the opportunity to expand what I can offer in my bar is very appealing to me.” Jassad snapped his fingers, and made a motion to his son. Dorvin appeared within seconds with a pitcher of golden /amber frothy liquid. Jassad took it from his son and dismissed him with a curt nod. “This is on the house, while you consider my offer. I will be back in a while to collect your answer.” Mike, the human, simply picked up the pitcher, walked back to the bar and began to drink off the side of it.


***************


Jassad returned to the bar as the patrons had wound down to find Mike still there, plenty inebriated and hanging on to the table top the best he could to stay upright. He was struggling to do so as the flirty couple next to him had engaged in a minorly explicit manner and were inadvertently pushing him out of his stool which had Mike obviously perturbed. Seeing opportunity Jassad motioned to his son to again maintain the bar and then walked around to help.


“Mike. How would you like to move back to a private table? We have one open just passed the curtains located at the far end of the register.” Noting Mike’s glance at the tap only a few feet away he continued, “Don’t worry, we will keep as much drink coming as you can handle.”


Mike grinned goofily as Jassad helped him over to the secluded table. As they walked by the intimate couple Mike stuck out his short fat tongue at them in mockery as would a child. Mike sat down in the soft cushions of the bench seat and immediately fell sideways, disappearing behind the table top. Before Jassad could respond Mike had already popped his hand back to the top of the table and pulled himself upright.


“Don’t read much into that! I can hold my liquor plenty good,” he said wryly.


Jassad slowly slipped in across from Mike and asked, “Have you come to a decision? I can arrange for some excellent opportunities.”


After several minutes of silence Mike looked directly at Jassad and asked, “How long do you think it took?”


Jassad waited for a moment for more context, then began to answer, “I do-.”


“How long do you think it took for them to do it? The first time i mean?,” Mike interrupted.


Jassad waited and then only asked, “Who?”


“Mankind and THEM, and YOU!,” Mike said motioning to the entire bar of aliens with a shaky hand. “Mankind meets aliens for the first time; their perception of the whole universe is thrown on its head; they learn of all sorts of crazy and diverse alien races. Guess what? Some of them are female. How long do you think it took for the first human male to mount up and conquer one of them?”


Jassad pounded the table roaring in laughter. “You are most unlike any Starfleet Officer I have ever come across...granted its been awhile” Jassad said, feeling his grey skin flush due to the abrupt laughing fit Mike had caused him. “I can honestly say I haven’t given the subject any thought. Though clearly you have” Jassad said giving Mike a friendly wink.


“Could have been months, could have even been years. But I’m willing to bet that it took no longer than getting two of the together in a room. The first two diplomats who negotiated First Contact probably screwed each other’s brains out.” Mike looked around the room as if someone is spying on him. “Cause thats what its all about, you know. Screwing other aliens-Friends be damned-David Mayne be damned-We all need to get some!,” he said hoisting his fist in the air. Mike again looked around as if someone was eavesdropping, and then whispered, “You know, i think it gets really weird when they aren’t humanoid anymore. You know what I’m saying, right? But you KNOW someone has screwed every one of them. That bug guy serving the smokes-There is some lady out there that wants to get ahold of his aedeagus. Yup, there is probably some guy going around with a bucket list of aliens to screw. Got to get them all! He probably has a picture book to show his friends!” Sitting back from his rant Mike’s shoulders and face collapsed as if he had suddenly taken on 30 years of age, revealing a much sadder and fragile man. He looked disparagingly at the bottom of his empty glass, and then back to his seat by the tap as if it were a million kilometers away. “Stupid sexy Betazoid nurses,” he finally said and then was silent.


Jassad, noting Mike’s temperament was wildly different from only minutes before, again sought an answer, “But will you do it?”


Mike raised his eyes to meet Jassad’s and said, “I will.”


************

This has been a joint post by


Lieutenant junior grade Michael Luther (Jon)
Chief Communications Officer
USS Yorktown

Jassad Tain (David)
Bar Owner
Tervidian Spacestation

****Mission 2, Day 3 09:30 hours****

Bradley was in Ten Forward trying to separate himself from all the conflict. He sat at a table in the corner trying to hide so he wouldn’t be bothered. He sat down with a drink and something to eat. He kept staring off losing time from reality, daydreaming of the mutiny on the bridge. It had been a long time since he last had to take a life, but he remembered how he handled dealing with the souls he had taken. He locked the memory deep down trapping it so it wouldn’t creep back up. Bradley blinked and suddenly he was back in Ten Forward and continued eating his meal.

********

Khan Terroth and his detail were wasting no time in locating Bradley Milligan. One of the Grumatals had a sensor rod in his hand. The rod projected a holographic display above it detailing a map of the ship and the location of Bradley Milligan according to Yorktown’s central computer. The rod itself was not actually of Tervidian make. The Grumatals had developed it on their homeworld before their absorption into the Queendom. Some of his brethren looked down on the smaller creatures. They had a Tervidian shape, but they were too thin and their skin was in displeasing hues of brown and maroon instead of the beautiful blues of Tervidians. But they were strong, fast, and agile in ways the Tervidians were not. No grunt in battle armor was likely to lose a fight to one, but they were a force to be reckoned with in their own right. Khan Terroth had personally found them extremely useful when it came to tight spaces and sudden climbs. Grumataris (their homeworld) was only ⅔ the size of the Royal Homeworld, which still made it twice the size of the humans’ earth. It made the Grumatals stronger than most “humanoid” species, but inherently weaker than the Tervidians. Khan Terroth presumed that there must be a stronger intelligent race somewhere in the void, but if so they had yet to drift into the Queen’s Cloud. The Grumatal with the rod signaled him of the rapid approach of another crew member. He called the detail to a halt and prepared for resistance.

Thoris saw the troops march past a hallway intersection and knew he was in the right place. “Hold up!” he called out to them, turning the corner. “If you are going to haul away my crew, I should at least escort you through my ship.” My crew, he said. My ship. That sounded so strange to him.

Khan Terroth studied Thoris through the eye slits of his helmet, his own face completely masked. The Andorian was a knife fighter, passionate, angry, and he knew from the scans felt stretched by command. He was, however, adapting well. "We are only applying the laws of her Luminescence to the more egregious offenders among your crew."

“I have no objection at this time, as we are subject to your laws, whether we like them or not.” Thoris continued frowning, looking down into the face of the shorter Tervidian. “What I am not clear on is what punishment Bradley and Arron will face, and ultimately what punishment the crew must pay for intruding in your space.” It was another item on the growing list of reasons Thoris didn’t like the Tervidians.

"Typically, in such cases, the punishments vary by the severity of the crime," Khan Terroth replied. "It has already been determined that they do not face death, or I would have come alone. While I do not know the mind of the Viceroy, I suspect that the punishment will involve some form of extended indenture or impressment."

Thoris stared at the Khan. Maybe it was possible to shorten their time of indenturement or whatever, but at least they weren’t going to kill them. “I see. All I can hope for is that they will be treated mercifully by your Viceroy. While I can see the logic in your laws, I feel like we could argue the situation in a court of law, or whatever you may have.

“There is another concern I have that has not been addressed: we are still missing crewmembers. Our Chief Flight Control officer, Lt. Bok, is lost somewhere either in this nebula or in the space near it. The woman you have been referring to--Counselor Camille Roux--has been abducted and her captor is still on the loose. While we are sitting around basking in the glory of her queen-ness, Camille is further and further from here. Bok has been missing for days. We’re concerned for her and want her back as soon as possible, but I do not see any effort on your part to make this so. It would seem to me that not saving this woman is just as serious a sin as not protecting her in the first place.”

"Bok is no longer a member of the Yorktown crew, having chosen voluntary indenturement in pursuit of gaining xeno-citizen status in Queenspace. Roux has been taken to Bajor," the Khan replied calmly. "If our tracking beacon on the shuttle is reading correctly your federation vessels are busy attacking themselves in the surrounding void. The Yorktown would not make a significant difference in the battle without equally significant modifications."

Thoris’ eyes lit up and his antennae sprung forward at the Khan’s report. Bok abandoned his post? They were tracking Camille? They knew where she was? And there was a civil war going on? “Bajor...that doesn’t sound good. I don’t think Sumo plans on letting her sit around in a containment cell all day.” The Tervidians were too powerful a force to contend with. Perhaps he was seeing it all wrong; maybe they weren’t a force to contend with, but to work with. “Okay, well, you have work to do? Get on with it.”

Khan Terroth signaled the detail onward and they continued to Milligan's position in Ten Forward.

Thoris entered the room with the rest of the patrol, anxious to be the first to speak. “Bradley, remember, we can’t get into a fight?” He was referring back to an earlier conversation. “We have another situation to deal with.” With narrowed eyes, he looked back to Khan Terroth.

“Bradley Milligan of Star Fleet,” Khan Terroth said, preparing himself for conflict. "You have been charged with violating the laws of the queen, specifically, you are charged with failure to protect a female, both generally throughout the mutiny on your ship, and particularly in the case of the death of Keren Dyleese. How do you plea?”

Bradley remained seated staring at Khan Terroth. “Failure to protect a female is a charge where you come from? There was a mutiny on this ship which we stopped.“ Bradley's face started to turn red with anger. “Why don’t you get the hell off our ship and let us get our missing crew members!” Bradley was frustrated to the point he was exhausted by the whole situation. He stood out of his chair slowly not wanting to cause a conflict. “I refuse to give a plea at this time.”

"Such is your prerogative, but I suggest you have your argument prepared when you face the Judicator," Khan Terroth said. He waived two of his fingers and several of the Grumatals took up positions around Milligan. He nodded to a pair of the grunts. They took his meaning and began marching Mr. Milligan to the airlock.

********

Nala sat in her quarters, absently stroking Titan, her mind still on her conversation with Arron the previous night. She had barely gotten any sleep because of it. She felt horrible for the way she had left things with him. Arron had tried so desperately to make her understand things from his point of view, but her stubbornness had gotten in the way. Granted, she still felt she was justified in trying to make him see this wasn’t all his fault, she had just gone about it the wrong way. All she knew was that letting things end the way they did was a huge mistake, one she intended on correcting. When she was around him, her emotions just seemed so much more amplified. No one made her feel the way Arron did. Surely he knew she felt that way, knew that everything she said was only her way of trying to help him, to make him see things the way she did. And she knew he cared for her, that everything that had happened was clouding over those feelings. Knowing she had to find a way to make him see this, to see things the right way, she finally got up and started getting ready.

********

Arron had woken up that morning at 0800 hours. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had woken up so late. As he showered, and changed into his civilian clothes, he marveled at how nice it was to start his day not feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had no reports to read, no orders to assign, and for the first time in his life, he had all the time in the world to accomplish whatever it was he wanted to do. Yet something was missing. A pang of regret hit him as he thought about his conversation with Nala last night. He had managed to avoid thinking too hard about it, though not without the assistance of an entire bottle of Saurian brandy, the empty bottle laying next to the couch where he had finally dozed off after consuming the heavy alcoholic beverage minutes after Nala had left his quarters. He didn’t want things to end with her. She, more than any other person on the ship, was someone he felt like he could trust implicitly. He wouldn’t have put so much on the line had her companionship not meant so much to him. With so many things in his life changing, he needed to have her a part of it. He was determined to right some wrongs, and not let this relationship fail. He had to be honest with himself. He wasn’t getting any younger, and more chances at true romance like this would probably be few and far between. If he was ever going to have a long lasting, meaningful relationship in his life, this was going to be it. He was sure of it.

He gave himself a lopsided grin in the mirror, trying to make himself feel more confident than he had in several days. He went over to the replicator and replicated a bouquet of Risian passion flowers, and a pink stuffed targ. With the stuffed animal tucked under his left arm, and the flowers secured in his left hand, he exited his quarters heading for Nala’s room.

********

Nala had just walked out of her quarters and came face to face with Arron. She gave him a quizzical look, noting the flowers and stuffed targ, and a smile blossomed across her face. “I was just coming to see you.” she said, looking up at him, still smiling and talking quickly so he wouldn't be able to say anything. “I feel so bad about everything I said last night. I was angry, and I really was trying to help yo-”

Before either could continue, Arron turned his head down the corridor as an unmistakable sound of heavy armor could be heard thundering up the passageway.

Khan Terroth was aware of the relationship between Drexel and Koshka. He had full access to their scans and they were each persons of note. He was also aware that Drexel rightfully held himself accountable for Roux's abduction. Koshka disagreed, but she was an emotional Xeno in love. Love alone made people do strange and stupid things. Coupled with lust it grew to obscure judgement thicker than the heart of the Queens cloud. Devotion was another thing, though, and devotion to the queen brought clarity. In this case, it was clear that Drexel was a man of feeling more than judgment. He would need to be retrained if the Viceroy hoped to use him in the way he supposed she intended. He switched the microphone of his helmet to broadcast.

"Arron Drexel, formerly of Star Fleet," Khan Terroth said, an unchallengeable air of authority in his voice. "You have been charged with violating the laws of the queen, specifically, you are charged with failure to protect a female, both generally throughout the mutiny on your ship, and particularly in the case of Camille Roux. How do you plea?"

Drexel took in the impressive sight of the being and his entourage, heavily armored, and carrying various weapons of alien design that Arron had no familiarity with. This was his first sighting of the Tervidians. The way they marched all over the ship, clad in battle gear was clearly meant to strike fear into the hearts of those they came into contact with. Arron felt no such fear towards these intruders. He had fought against the Dominion, the Breen, the Borg, and countless others. The Tervidians, while physically imposing, were also incredibly arrogant. Arron had made up his mind on how to proceed, but before he could say anything Nala stepped forward.

“And on whose authority is this arrest?!” Nala said, her eyes narrowing on the stranger in front of her.

Arron smiled inwardly at her loyalty. He sent her feelings of appreciation, knowing she would pick them up with her telepathic abilities. As he watched her, her face radiating with anger, and concern for him, it hit Arron. He closed his eyes embracing the flood of emotion now consuming his insides.

“The charge has been issued by the honorable Viceroy Midalva of the 14th Legion, who represents the will of the queen,” Khan Terroth explained. He gave her question noticeably more deference than others that had been directed to him thus far. “Do you deny the charges?”

Thoris stood on the side of the group, giving the former captain a cold stare. “Arron, I would suggest going with them for now.”

Arron’s eyes flashed over to Thoris as he spoke. It was so odd to hear himself being referred to by his first name by people who just a week ago sat around a conference table taking orders from him. Arron handed the stuffed Targ and the flower bouquet to Nala. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I love you” he whispered into her ear. She looked up quickly, catching his eye, and nodded, “I love you too...” she whispered. Her gaze, full of contempt, returned to the man who called himself Khan Terroth.

Arron stared hard at the masked man “I do not recognize the authority of your queen, or this Midalva you speak of, and cutting into my- …...this ship, and boarding it without cause or concern to the inhabitants on board demonstrates your hostility, impertinence, and lack of respect to other cultures. You speak of concern for females, yet show clear prejudices towards our Bolian crew members. I find you to be nothing more than a masked race of cowardly pirates, who prey on unsuspecting ships that come into your territory of which you make no effort to reveal the fact that such vessels are even trespassing.” Arron stepped forward boldly. “I come with you, not to beg for your pardon, but to demand an apology from your Queen.”

Khan Terroth removed his helm and handed it to one of the Grumatals, his blue face bearing a stoic, glacial look. The lesser being bowed and stepped back. There was a blur of motion and the sound of cracking bones as Khan Terroth lunged forward and struck Drexel’s chest with his forearm with such force that he bounced off the ceiling before slamming into the T of the corridor a dozen yards behind where he had just been standing. The detail held positions of readiness, though not one bothered to actually raise a weapon.

Thoris had smirked slightly when Arron had taunted the Khan. His expression changed when he saw the outlash the Khan responded with, he being more impressed with the man’s strength than being shocked.

"I am sorry to offend your sensibilities," he said with a bow to Nala. He strode calmly over to Drexel, giving him time to catch his breath and really feel the impact of his own foolish actions. "Arron Drexel, you have been charged and found guilty of dishonoring the Queen. These men are witnesses. Your sentence has just been carried out." He picked him up by the hair with one arm, and turned Drexel's face toward his own with the other. "The Queen accepts no demands, especially not from Xenos who lack the... what is the word in your primitive vernacular... testicular fortitude to address dissent in their command in its infancy but will instead allow their infatuations to occupy their attention while chaos spreads its roots until it reigns supreme. What right do you have to be making demands? You are not the captain of this vessel. You are a lovesick fool and a coward. You are nothing." Khan Terroth shook him, changed hands, and drug him groaning behind him. "You will answer for your crimes. As you serve your sentence, if the justicar and the viceroy prove wise, they will give you a sentence that reforges you. Maybe someday you will prove a man worthy of a females affections, not a dog who licks her feet."

"Thanks," Arron wheezed, "for validating my point". His words were raspy, but not without an air of defiance.

Thoris couldn’t help but let a jet of hot air blow out of his nostrils. Arron was digging himself into a deeper pit, wasn’t he?

Khan Terroth bowed again to Nala as he tossed Drexel down between a pair of grunts. One picked Drexel up by the ankle and slung him over his shoulder. Khan Terroth made a hand signal. His helmet was returned to him and the detail marched back toward the station. He gave Nala a final nod.

"You can do better," he said. He replaced his helm and turned the microphone back on. "Or, if you insist on remaining with him, you can patiently hope the Queen's justice makes him something worth having. I will have Doctor Couren patch him up before his trial."

He followed his detail breathing slowly. He rehearsed his chant to himself.

-breathe. Feel the calm, like the gentle autumn wind on your skin. You are one with your thoughts, one with your feelings, one with your body, one with your soul. Breathe. Feel the calm, like the mists swirling in the nebula. You are a complete soul. Your wholeness makes you great. You fullness makes you powerful. Breathe. Feel the calm, like the Trentik ox in the fields. It is your union that makes you deadly. It is your serenity that allows you to channel the rage when it comes. It is that channeling that bridles your power and leads you to be the greatest servant of the Queen you can be-

Drexel was lucky to be alive.

"Captain Ch'Tell," Khan Terroth turned to address the Andorian before disbarking. "It is my understanding that you require a sparring partner of sufficient skill to challenge you. Is this not so?"

The Andorian’s antennae perked up at the request. “It’s Commander ch’Tell,” he began, delaying so that he could think about the offer. How did he know about his sparring practices? “It is so. I would say that it sounds like an intriguing offer.” It wasn’t a yes, it wasn’t a no.

"Meet me in arena five tomorrow morning," the Khan said. He extended a chit of crystal trimmed in a reddish metal alloy. "Present this to one of the station guards after you disembark from Yorktown. They will escort you there." He turned and rejoined his detail as they took Drexel and Milligan to the station.

Thoris stared down at the chit in his hand. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Was this some sort of Tervidian play to kill him off, so that they may assume command of the ship? Or was it some kind of “friendly” sport to improve the skill of both parties, as it appeared? He pocketed the chit, knowing that his curiosity would get him in the end.

**********

This has been a joint post by

Bradley Milligan - Brian
Khan Terroth - Daniel
Thoris ch’Tell - Tyler
Nala Koshka - Bethanee
Arron Drexel - Elijah

***Mission 2, Day 3 1800 hours***

Nala paced back and forth in her quarters, her anger rising. She threw the stuffed targ Arron had given her onto the couch, startling Titan, who had been sleeping peacefully.. She just couldn’t understand how Arron’s arrest was justifiable. And the way he was treated before the arrest...it made Nala’s blood boil just thinking about it. Who was this “Queen” and what gave her the right to do any of this?

Looking back at the stuffed targ, she calmed down slightly knowing that being angry wasn’t going to help Arron. This whole situation wasn’t right, and she was going to do everything she could to make sure things were taken care of. Not knowing where to start, she decided that speaking to the Yorktown’s acting captain would be a good start.

She left her quarters, unsure of where exactly to start looking for their new captain. She figured the best to look for him would probably be the captain’s ready room. She took off in that general direction, thinking of what she was going to say as she went.

***

Unbeknownst that Nala had just acted similarly in another part of the ship, Thoris collapsed in the chair. He had been pacing in the ready room again when a picture frame on the desk caught his eye. He picked it up briefly, noting it was Arron with some woman (Mother? Sister?), and threw it as hard as he could in the corner of the room.

He tried the breathing exercises once again--although it allowed him to secure his emotions, it didn’t stop the writhing leviathan of thoughts and concerns in his head. Already, he had most of the crew, it seemed, complaining that he was letting the Tervidians walk all over him. While this was its appearance, he was trying to play a different offense: striking when the enemy was vulnerable.

Problem was this: Tervidians weren’t appearing very vulnerable.

Two things were on his plate right now that he could possibly work with: the sparring match/practice tomorrow morning and the Tervidian’s culture of placing women on pedestals. Thoris had considered sending a female officer of notable rank to the Tervidian courts to speak on his behalf--maybe that would work--but he didn’t trust Vestara, and wasn’t sure if Nala would be experienced for it. It was worth a chat, at least, he figured, so he put his emotions in check once again, and tapped his combadge when there was a chime at the door. “Yes?” he requested, deactivating the combadge. “Come on in.”

“Ummm, can I have a word with you...Captain?” Nala asked stepping into the room.

“What a coincidence. I was going to ask you to come by, Lieutenant Koshka.” Thoris stood quickly out of the chair. “And, please, don’t call me Captain. Just Commander, if you must.” He should have adapted to it by now, but it was one title that still got on his nerves. “Before I address my business, what brings you up here? Is it Arron?”

“Well, yes, it is actually.” she said slowly. “I was hoping if I talked to you about it, we could figure something to him get out of this situation. I mean, who are these beings? Why do they think they can just board our ship, take over and arrest our people for violating their laws?! Which, if I might add, are all unknowns to us! Do they even know that Arron had been knocked unconscious at the start of this damned mutiny?” Her frustration was beginning to show, her thoughts slipping back to Arron’s harsh treatment, so she stepped back and tried to calm down. “Surely there is something we can do?” she questioned, hoping he had an idea of what they could do.

“I’ve been giving it much thought,” Thoris confessed. “I think we need to get closer to the Tervidians, somehow. All we’ve seen are the pawns--and excuse my analogy to Earth chess--but the greater threats are unseen, hidden behind a wall of pawns. These formidable soldier-types we’ve seen are indeed, still the pawns. The Khan we’ve seen, I believe, has little power. As dangerous as the pawns may seem, there are stronger players to put in check--the bishop, knight, or even the queen.”

Not quite understanding what he meant, Nala nodded, allowing him to continue.

“I think we need to somehow get in contact with this Viceroy the Khan had spoke about. He gave the order for their arrest, probably also for the arrestment of our ship. If we get close to him, maybe we can find a weak point. I don’t know.” Thoris sat back down in the chair, leaned back, and was silent a few seconds. “It’s a lofty idea, I know, but what if the Viceroy wasn’t acting in favor of the Queen? Or how do we know the Queen exists? And--pulling from the chess analogy again--is there a King in play? Something at the heart of the empire that, if we put into check, allows us to win the war despite overwhelming odds?”

“So, basically you want to find a weakness, something that will work to our advantage in getting out of here?” she asked, looking at him questioningly.

“Yes. I guess the idea of thought comes from an Andorian duel philosophy,” Thoris noted, trying to look relaxed. “What I was hoping you could do is work from the angle of the court system. I know, I know you aren’t in any way a lawyer, and you have no chance of learning the Tervidian system by tomorrow’s trial, but your word as a witness--and woman--would be valuable. Problem is, I’m not sure what you could say on their behalf that would convince them to drop the charges or lessen the punishment.”

A moment of silence hung in the air. Thoris decided to fill it again. “I’ve been invited to a sparring match tomorrow morning with Khan Terroth, or whatever his name may be. While I’m thrilled with the challenge, my true intent is to get some information from the Khan. Maybe make a deal to get audience with the Viceroy or another notable person of power.” He furrowed his brow. “I’m at a disadvantage, though, it would seem. I’ve seen only a little of his fighting style, and I’m sure he has access to databases of information about Andorian combat.”

Those last words echoed in his mind. Ushaan was a very complicated system of rules in dueling, and it seemed that nobody remembered all rules and 12,000 amendments at the same time. But one of those amendments...he remembered it for its oddity.

“I have an idea, but you probably won’t like it,” Thoris grinned at Nala, leaning forward in the chair.

******

Thoris ch’Tell
Acting Captain
USS Yorktown

Nala Koshka
Head Nurse
USS Yorktown

Mission 2 Day 3 17:30

Helen Couren, followed by three Grumatals, a Sukesean, and one Klingon boarded the Yorktown. They were all in the light armor designated for light duty, though it was newly modified to deal with the potential for phaser fire. In her medical suit she was the only one with a visible face. She was familiar with the ship now. She liked the layout better than most. Star Fleet was in her roots, distant though that may have been. Humans designing ships specifically for humans and others like them, it was an odd but appealing concept.

They reached the brig. This was a most unusual order, but it had come with the Viceroy's seal. She entered with her entourage. Karina Pope was on duty. She was why the Klingon was there. Kartenok had been attached to Xeno-medical since his arrival during the Dominion war took place out in the void. There had been a lot of immigration during that time. She had learned much.

"May I help you?" Karina asked.

Kartenok removed his helmet and said some things in their native tongue. Karina's eyes widened slightly. Helen withdrew a rolled parchment from her bag and placed it in Kartenok's hands. He unrolled it and held it up for Karina to read. As he did so Helen approached the cell that held her objective. She addressed the blind woman as clearly as possible.

"Vestara Mayne, I have been sent to bring you to the station and extend to you a token of the Queen's mercy. Will you come willingly?"

Doctor Helen Couren
Xeno Absorption and Emigration Specialist
14th Royal Legion

Mission 2. Day 4. 0900

Mike Luther squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could and then tried to open them again.  As the bleary colors and shapes came together to form  more distinct lines and textures he came to realize that he was in his quarters on the USS Yorktown.  He smiled to himself at the fortunate outcome of last nights drinking; more specifically the fortune of having made it home to his secure quarters.  Dropping the smile he considered how ironic it was that he felt his quarters were secure.  Certainly they were not.  The most recent scuttlebutt among the crew suggested not only were the Tervidians capable of accessing any part of the ship physically, but that they had displayed a surprising amount of knowledge about the personal life of many of the officers.

In all reality the USS Yorktown’s crew were prisoners.  Sure they had their freedom to come and go, but only because they were trapped in a cage- in the xeno-sphere, which was placed at the gaping mouth of a gun ready to snuff them at any whim of the Tervidian law. Life in the xenosphere did seem to go on in its own bustling way.  The multitude of non-tervidians there had seemed to have carved out a life, some from servitude, and others capitalism apparently fueled by black markets and illicit activities.  There were others that Mike had seen last night, in dead end corridors outside Jassad’s bar, others that no longer seemed to have a ship to call home.  They were huddled in the recesses and dark places.  Some sleeping, some just silently watching.  Interestingly enough none of them openly begged.  Perhaps there was more Tervidian police control in the xenosphere than Mike had realized.

Mike sat up and rubbed his head.  Many years ago he had determined that he was somehow genetically superior to other humans, a result of being the offspring of a farmer for a father and an herbalist for a mother, and the proof was that as of yet he had never suffered a hangover. He like liked to drink and the drink had never provided enough consequence to slow him down.  Standing he walked over to his replicator and requested a cup of coffee which was quickly provided.  
Replicators are curious things to be sure he considered. Immensely capable of providing luxury and convenience, but also capable of liberating those hostage from hunger, poverty, and in some cases, even oppression.  In underdeveloped cultures Starfleet had regularly and jealously guarded the replicator technology as its emergence on an unprepared population often fueled wars and dominance rather than equalizing needs among the population. After all, feeding an army, and putting a weapon in every soldier’s hand and belt was simple with replicator technology.

Jassad had wanted the USS Yorktown’s replicator files and Mike had said yes. Providing the files to an outside entities was certainly a dangerous affair-it would be a criminal offense after all.  The majority of the contents of that library were likely unknown to almost anyone on the USS Yorktown. Most of the library wasn't actually the standard Starfleet library, but scans of items added by users.  Users could upload nearly any item that would fit in the particular replicator series they were authorized to use.
Getting the files themselves wouldn't be all that difficult, however the Tervidians seemed to know a lot, and providing restricted data to the xenites would certainly incur their wrath if he was found out.  On the other hand, the USS Yorktown was a mess, imprisoned, and the crew leadership was fractured.  Thoris was an unlikely leader and Mike had little confidence in his ability to wrestle the ship back into his control. It was likely that they were going to be here for a long time. Mike had considered the potential of throwing in his lot with the Tervidians, but after some exploration he assumed any efforts on his part would only lead to indentured servitude. His best shot at long term security would be to get involved in the financial dealings of the xenites, and it was apparent that the real money was on the illegal goods and services market. He would get the database, but Jassad would have to pay him up front handsomely, rather than use the errand as a “test”.  The data was, of course, far more valuable than Jassad let on and the request was something like asking for the world so one could have a kingdom.

Mike meandered out his cabin door, still wearing his fleet uniform which never seemed to get soiled. The uniform was kind of pointless he considered; he hadn't honored his shift for several days now.  After all his entire function on the ship as communications officer had been negated equally by the Tervidian’s security and the nature of the cloud. The commanding officers hadn’t even checked up on his whereabouts yet.

Mike followed his feet down to the bioengineering lab and small equipment locker area of the engineering department. Mike approached a stockily constructed Tellerite who sat behind a short desk. “Petty Officer Vpu----.” Luther aborted his attempt at pronouncing the name properly when the Tellerite turned towards him.
“I need to check out a portable replicator.  I believe we should have one in inventory.”

The Tellerite ran his fingers across his console without looking up.  “Purpose?”

“The replicator serving the officer’s lounge in the civilian quarter is malfunctioning.  I am taking measures to ensure that food options can be sustained during a series of civilian debriefings that are planned in that space.  I have reported the malfunction and they have already sent somebody.  This is the backup plan.”
The tellerite swiped his keyboard and shortly a technician delivered the replicator which was about the size of a trunk for personal effects.  There was really no way around Mike signing for the hardware. If he was going to be caught, then this is the moment that would have betrayed him.  He would have to try to filter the data to prevent it being traced back to this documented moment.  

Ten minutes later Mike sat down with the replicator in his office in engineering and interfaced it with the computer.
“Computer. This replicator needs to be configured with an alternate database. Please delete its current inventory.”
Mike leaned back in his chair while analysing the computer readouts.

“Computer. Create a custom replicator inventory.  Add all Starfleet standard items and options.  Add all user contributions from the USS Yorktown.

A list of items totalling 629 thousand items began to scroll down the screen.  

“Computer.  Remove all items unique to federation space.  Remove all items of federation construction.  Remove all items which include markings or insignias which are related to the USS Yorktown of the Federation. Remove all food or items which are uniquely Human, Vulcan, or Bajoran.

COMPUTER: “Total items remaining: 287 thousand.”

“Computer: Please display the top ten items that were just removed. List them starting with the items most replicated aboard the USS Yorktown.” Mike began to brief the list looking for any oddities, but then noted a peculiar entry. “Who the hell is drinking all this sweetened iced tea!?,” he scoffed.

“Computer.  Please display the top 500 items moved into the custom inventory starting with the least number of replications.”  

A list of items came up.  Every single one of them had been only scanned in one time and replicated one time.  Mike wanted to pursue the list looking for peculiarities, but was also finding the odd diversity of items fascinating.  “Oh....shit.  What the hell is that thing?,” Mike said in a whisper. The pictured item was was a twisted bastardization of all that was good; of all that was pure in life. Mike couldn't help but picture its function in his mind, but the thoughts were too unnatural, too sadistic, and left him queasy. How could someone endure the pain? Certainly such a device would be outlawed on earth due to the masochistic nature of its use.  Mike drew a breath of disgust.

“Computer: Display item name and the name of the  individual who uploaded the item for replication.

COMPUTER: “Item: Favorite Klingon Sex Toy.  Uploaded by: Vestura Mayne.”

Mike looked at the ceiling in  desperation.

“Computer. Remove entry in full data base for Iced Tea, Sweetened.  In full database rename ‘Favorite Klingon Sex Toy’ as Iced Tea, Sweetened.”

Feeling slightly better Mike then removed the storage device from the replicator and copied its contents to a new storage device which he hung around his neck on a lanyard. It would be encrypted but certainly Jassad would have expected that before the request. As he walked back down the hall to his quarters he determined he would need to turn up some civilian clothing before delivering the drop to Jassad.

Brought to you by:
Michael Luther (Jon)

***Mission 2, Day 4 0620 hours***

A soft thud sounded as Thoris laid the wrapping cloth on the table and unfolded it to reveal a few of his traditional Andorian weapons--ushaan-tor, ushaan-kama, chaka, dolsanar, varchuk, and a gamat.   He left his hrisal and kal’hris in his quarters hanging over his bed and on the wall since both were large enough weapons to make things difficult to carry.  

The Tervidian guard stared at him skeptically.  “You want to bring weapons into the station?”

“I have a sparring appointment with Khan Terroth.  I am to meet him in Arena Five.”  Thoris waved the chit that the Khan had offered him the day before.  “Most of these are just for show-and-tell and I won’t be needing them.”  He understood the Earth idiom well enough, but it still seemed like a childish phrase.  “If Khan Terroth doesn’t approve, you may hold them in custody until I return to the ship.  You may also carry them to the arena, if you want.”

The guard paused momentarily and then replied, “Acceptable. You will be escorted to and from the arena.  At no time will you be able to wield one of your weapons until you reach the inside of arena. You are the Khan’s responsibility there.”

Thoris smirked arrogantly and folded the wrapping cloth once again.  The guard led him up several levels of stairs to a heavy and ornately-cared door at the border of the xeno section and the rest of the station, punched in an access code, took the chit from Thoris and deposited it into a slot.  The door slid open, and Thoris stepped into an expansive room.  

Khan Terroth knelt at the center of the arena in meditation. He wore thick leather pants, boits, and a vest but no armor. A long bamboo shaft lay in front of him. He heard the sound of the door opening but did not stir. Thoris would need a moment to take in his surroundings. Arena five was large. There was a wide floor in the middle capable of being set for ice, sand, dirt, or just bare metal and accented by various obstacles.. Currently there was sand and several large boulders. Surrounding the arena were three tiers of bleachers. The seats in each were sized for the various occupants of the station. The Tervidians seats were in the highest tier, Grumatals and others in the middle, humanoids of roughly human size at the bottom.

After Thoris got his bearings, he set the weapon wrap on the outskirts of the arena, pulled the gamat from the wrap, and sat down in front of Khan Terroth.  He had no idea what to expect from this fight today, but he came with questions.  He sat quietly, the gamat laying in front of him, while he studied the Khan’s features as he mediated.  Andorians weren’t ones for meditating (although it was practised among a few groups), so Thoris tried his best to pick up on sensory clues that would tell him more about his opponent: tenseness, irregular breathing patterns, or nervousness.  Thoris could detect none of this from the Khan.  He waited patiently as he could for the Khan to initiate the conversation.

“Welcome to Arena Five, Captain Thoris Ch’tell.” The Khan said after a deep cleansing breath. His eyes remained closed and his body perfectly calm.

“So how do we do this?” asked Thoris, once again annoyed with the title the Khan gave him.

“We may engage in hand to hand combat, or you may use the blade if you wish,” Khan Terroth said calmly, opening his eyes. “We will begin as soon as you make the first move.”

“Rules?  Boundaries?”

“Stay on the sand. Do not kill the other. Do you wish more rules?”

Thoris thought for a moment.  There were all sorts of technicalities in Andorian duel culture, but the simpler the rules, the more he could focus on the fight.  “No, those will do.”  He looked around at the playfield, not overly thrilled about the sand.  It would have a lot of give, something that Thoris hadn’t worked with in his training.  Homeworld situations were all ice, snow, dirt, and snow.  He looked down at his gamat, a curved knife of sorts--the convex side was sharpened, the inner concave side was blunt, and a ring was at the top so that its wielder could relax hold and spin it around to a different orientation.  He wasn’t sure if the “first move” would be him grabbing the gamat, or the first attack with it.  He made himself mentally prepared for the former situation.

Khan Terroth watched the Andorian, taking note of his motions, his mood. “If the arena displeases you I will have it established differently for next time. This is the typical layout, but it can be changed. The primary advantage is the ability to set the gravity at a comfortable level for you.”

It sounded like an opportunity to find out more about the Khan’s ability.  “What gravity level do you usually compete at?”

“In this Arena it is common to use gravity factor -1, which star fleet would consider 2Gs. Arena 5 can be varied to a number of graviational scenarios. No gravity is possible. I am conditiioned to combat in everything from factor 3 to factor -2. However, anything factor 2 and above is a most unpleasant experience. Grunts will bear it, but they rarely do more than the minimum required due to the degree of difficulty and the pressure suits.”

Thoris nodded, his antennae moving slightly.  That would explain how he appeared so strong when arresting Arron yesterday.  Andoria would probably be considered between -2.5 and -3, if he understood the scale right.  His own conditioning from his homeworld’s gravity to Federation standard was difficult enough, he couldn’t believe what Khan Terroth would have had gone through.  “Tervidians are sure an interesting people,” he commented, reaching out for the gamat.  

Khan Terroth gently took the bamboo shaft in his left hand. “We have a long, rich history.”

With the knife now pointing down to the ground in his left hand, Thoris eased back away from his opponent while he rose to his feet.  If this guy was going to be using a stick, his style here would probably be mid- to long-range.  Thoris’ own style of close up may prove to be a slight advantage.  “That I believe,” he responded, tightening his grip on the handle.  “You have a very interesting culture, too.  A lot of segregating, casting, racial prejudice...”

“Segregation is a natural occurrence,” Khan Terroth replied, still sitting calmly. “Many Xenos initially throwing around words like ‘segregation’ and ‘discrimination’ until they learned that there were no rules separating the groups but physics. Take the tiers of this arena, for example. The top tier is what I would consider normal factor gravity. Call it 0.  The second tier is -1 factor gravity for the Grumatals and others from planets of similar size, and the lowest is -2 factor gravity like the rest of the xeno section. I would consider the Yorktown at -2.2.”

Thoris decided he would have a slight advantage if he had the element of surprise--a quick, simple attack.  Without readying the knife, he lunged at Khan Terroth, only raising the gamat once he was within bodily range.  His plan included an upward cut from the naval to the right ribs, and coming over the arm to hook the staff-holding hand with the blunt edge of the gamat. To his dismay, Khan Terroth moved with an efficiency that nothing with his bulk had a right to. The Tervidian’s right hand shot out and seized Thoris’ forearm. He rolled back, hefting Thoris’ body with his legs and redirected the force of the Andorian’s charge across him, kicking upward and sending Thoris hurtling between boulders and into the sand. He continued the roll, somersaulting onto his feet and steadying himself with the previously unused bamboo. He turned to observe Thoris’ new position.

“A good start,” Khan Terroth said flatly.

Thoris had taken the throw to the best of his ability.  He was familiar how to roll out of such a throw, and finished by twisting his body around to face his opponent again, the knife centered before him as both a defensive and offensive pose.

“As to racial prejudice, I suppose that is fair,” the Tervidian continued. “We view the queen as supreme, and we are of the queen’s people. If you are referring to your Bolian’s being banned from the station, that is purely a matter of health. Their chemical composition is incompatible with most species on the station. If they were to use the lavatory facilities or engage in any variety of interspecies contact it could bring injury to our citizens. It is simpler if they remain on the ship.”

“And your sexism?” Thoris questioned, before attacking again.  This time, he attacked the Khan’s bare arm, hoping to damage the exposed flesh.  He knew that his previous attempt with just a short jab wouldn’t be enough.  

“Is it sexism to honor females for being the bearers of future generations?” the Khan asked, whipping the bamboo stick around to deflect Thoris’ blade then cracking it down on the Andorian’s shoulder.

Thoris had wanted the attention to be on the knife so that he could try landing a blow to the Khan’s side, but realized that with the stick’s strike, he wouldn’t have enough energy behind the punch.  He attempted to do a makeshift third strike to follow up the jab and entered into the inside of the Khan’s thigh with the concave edge of the gamat. The Khan drove his fist down into Thoris’ wrist, half burying the gamat in the sand. There was a whistling and a yellowish blur as the Tervidian swiped the bamboo toward the Andorian’s legs. The whistle continued as Thoris leapt up, abandoning the gamat in the sand and, with a twist over the Khan’s shoulders, landed behind him with both hands up. The Khan whirled around and Thoris caught the bamboo with both hands, pushing it up over him before it could land a blow to his face.

“To honor, no, but at the abandonment of freedoms for the males?” Thoris huffed.  He eyed the gamat laying between Khan Terroth’s feet.  

“I am free to do as I please,” Khan Terroth said, stepping back to allow Thoris to retrieve his blade. “It pleases me to serve my queen with all my being. She asked me to become a Khan. It was not forced on me.”

Thoris cautiously picked up the knife.  “The actions you have taken upon some of my crew members, I mean.”  He straightened back up, holding the knife horizontally before him.  “How can you justify that they ‘failed to protect a female’ when they acted to the best of their knowledge and ability to protect all the crew?”

“Are you certain that they acted to the best of their knowledge?” Khan Terroth asked. He pointed the bamboo at Thoris. “I am not.”

He had to do something about that bamboo stick, Thoris noted.  But, first, he wanted to try a different tactic.  “I am very confident that they did,” Thoris retorted.  He suddenly came at Khan Terroth with a fierce, quick combination of strikes and deflections only to get to his opponent’s back.  If Thoris could somehow compromise the guy’s balance maybe he’d finally have an upper hand.  

“Bradley Milligan has an argument,” the Khan conceded, spinning the bamboo with both hands in a propeller motion and backing slowly toward a boulder. “From all indications, Keren Dyleese was sympathetic to the cause of mutiny before the gas was applied to your 2nd cargo bay. And she did initiate the attack against him of her own free will, if with inferior tactics. Our law has provisions for defending oneself.”

Thoris cursed and stepped back briefly, realizing he wouldn’t make it around the Khan.  He approached him from the side Khan Terroth held the bamboo stick and slammed his open hand into the path of the weapon.  “And Arron?” he questioned through gritted teeth.  Bamboo was light enough to not cause serious damage, but it did give one hell of a sting.  Thoris attempted to enter in with his right hand wielding the knife.  Maybe if he could hook it under the Khan’s jaw...

“I do not believe that Aaron Drexel has any legitimate argument,” Khan Terroth answered. He leaned back from Thoris’ assault, driving the bamboo into the sand with both hands and using it to vault himself up onto the boulder. “While I cannot pretend to know the mind of the Judicator, I have reviewed the evidence against him and I find it damning. Drexel will be found guilty.”

“Is there no way that he can prove his intentions?”  Thoris stood in the Khan’s shadow, not liking the situation he got himself into, and retreated.

“His intentions were to wait it out until it could not be waited any longer,” the Khan said. “He was distracted by your nurse, disheartened by the treachery of colleagues, and hoping that no action would be necessary. He stood by and watched the fire blaze up in hopes it would burn itself out. Do you really support such inaction as well intentioned when so many lives are on the line, Captain ch’Tell?”

To be honest, Thoris wasn’t pleased with Arron’s actions himself.  The mere fact that Arron wasn’t owning up to his faults and skirted the responsibility was reason enough for Thoris to allow Arron to be arrested in the first place.  “Would you mind if I grabbed a second gamat?” he posed, gesturing toward the weapon wrap.  While he was used to long periods of fighting, these short, fierce bursts were taking a toll on him.  

“I have no objection,” the Tervidian replied. He leapt deftly to the sand and returned to his original position at the center of the arena.

Thoris unfolded part of the wrap and pulled out a second knife.  He wasn’t convinced yet that Khan Terroth’s ranged advantage necessarily meant he was good at ranged fighting, and silently wished he hadn’t left his hrisal in his quarters.  “So, does that also mean that Arron has no way to retribute himself without incarceration under your law?”

“Incarceration is rare in our society,” Khan Terroth replied. “It is considered wasteful.”

Thoris was surprised at the response.  He must have misunderstood a previous conversation. “Or indenturement.  Whatever you may use.”  He returned to the center of the arena to face the Khan.

“Indenturement is usually voluntary,” Khan Terroth explained. He leapted forward, making precision strikes at the Andorian’s joints with the bamboo shaft. “It is how one gains citizenship in the Queendom. It is typically a period of 5-7 years, though the extension of that time is often used to punish violators of the law.”

Thoris took the blows to his joints while he tried entering into the Khan’s personal space.  He instantly wished he had deflected them, though and soon found that his knees were buckling under him.  He turned so that he faced the same direction as the Khan, the staff checked by his right hand and gamat.  “What do you expect--” he began, turning one of his gamats around so that the loop was exposed.  With this end, he attempted to catch one of the Khan’s fingers wrapped around the staff in the ring.  He finished the statement with the next breath, “--for Arron?”

A grin, brief but noticeable to the perceptive Andorian, flashed across the Khan’s face as he saw a thin trickle of blood fall from one of his think blue fingers. He whirled around and swung the bamboo shaft with such velocity that it could only be seen as a blur before slamming against Thoris’ left side. “I expect,” he replied, “a lengthy impressment.”

“If I know Arron, he will refuse indenturement,” insisted Thoris, stumbling back and clutching his side.  “Impressment?  What do you mean by that?”

“It means,” the Khan said, pressing Thoris with repeated thwaks at his feet and hands, “that he will find himself serving in one of Her Luminescence’s legions until his debt to society is considered repaid, at which point he may either begin his indenturement or arrangements will be made for his expulsion from the cloud.”

By some miracle, Thoris caught the end of the staff during one of the hits and used it to launch himself closer to the Khan, once again in close range.  His fingers were threaded once again through both of his gamats’ eyes and he begun once again to make short, quick attacks at the Khan’s inner thighs, armpits, and up towards the neck.

The Khan released the bamboo stick and fell back. He felt the sharp strikes of the Andorian blades nicking him. There was pain. Pain was noise, backchatter, something to filter so that the true target could be focused on. The Andorian was quick, that was true, but Khan Terroth had not become a Khan because of sluggishness. He grabbed both of Thoris’ blades, and flung them aside, running with his blood. He grabbed the Andorian’s chest and effectively shot-putted him across the arena into a boulder.

Maybe having his fingers threaded into the holes of his daggers weren’t a good idea.  Some of the skin on his fingers had peeled back when the Khan yanked them off.  As Thoris rested against the boulder, catching his breath after the wind had been knocked out of him, he considered the Khan’s suggestion of Arron’s impressment--it wasn’t what they (the crew) needed either.  The plans made the night before would have to advance.  “What is your culture’s view of species with multiple sexes?  Andorians, for example, have four sexes, only two playing a significant role in childbearing...”

“There are no such species inside the cloud,” the Khan replied. He retrieved the gamats and carried them loosely in his left hand, his bamboo shaft in his right as he approached Thoris. “And those who have wandered in have done so in few enough number that the continuation of their species among us has been a non-starter. Did you wish to begin an Andorian colony within the cloud? I can think of three moon’s of similar size and habitable climate to your homeworld. There is only automated mining on two of them presently, though the third is within the Garedzek territory.”

So it was true that they were living secluded enough that they could afford such prejudices, Thoris considered, reaching out to take the gamats once again.  “That wasn’t what I was meaning,” he admitted, his skin already releasing coolant oils not unlike human sweat.  “On Andor, we consider each other equals, and honor each as equals.  We all contribute to the life-making process equally.”  He huffed a few more breaths, and added a question.  “Who are the Garedzeks?”

“They are not a who,” Khan Terroth replied, holding out the gamats to Thoris. “Garedzek is a where, near the heart of the Queen’s Cloud. There are monsters there. Don’t look so surprised. I have looked over databases from the void. You have found monsters floating in the emptiness. It should not come as a shock that in a place full of light and life like Queenspace that monsters would roam.”

Thoris recovered his balance and stood on his own two feet again.  “You fight really well.  Very...very formidable.”  He was disappointed that he couldn’t elaborate better given his situation.  His metabolism was burning through his reserves.  Extended combat for Andorians typically was slow-paced so that neither one would burn out quickly, but his sparring match with Khan Terroth was really taxing his system.

“You did well enough yourself,” Khan Terroth grinned slightly. “Though I would not place you on front lines or throw you into a poacher hunt through the Garedzek. If you think through your bridge tactics like your sparring tactics you will get the hang of it soon enough.”

“I had a feeling you were taking it easy on me,” Thoris muttered.  

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, if that’s what you mean.”

“Then I’d hate for a time where you’d be trying to kill me,” Thoris joked, massaging his elbows.  There had to be some sort of advantage Thoris could have on the Khan, but it wasn’t very apparent.  He felt he had come close somehow.  “So Arron and Bradley’s trial is supposed to be today, correct?  What time will it be at, and will we be invited?”

“It will take place in the heart of the station at the leisure of the Judicator, the Viceroy, and the third,” Khan Terroth walked backward, stretching his legs and shoulders with the aid of the bamboo staff. “I may retrieve you when the time comes if you wish, but such events are not typically public spectacle. The evidence from Yorktown was already obtained in your scans and from your computers. There would be little to do but sit in an enclosed gallery and watch. There are booths for which the gravity can be altered to accommodate you.”

“Thank you.  I’m sure Nala Koshka would appreciate being there for Arron.”  Thoris curled his bottom lip inward, contemplating something.

“Aaron would not know she was present,” the Khan said with a slight shrug. He stood erect, popped his knuckles, and returned his face to its previous unreadable state. “We find it helps in obtaining honest opinions from the accused if they do not have a notable audience.”

A sense of dread hung over Thoris.  He hadn’t accounted for that with his actions the night before with Nala, and things were already underway.  The Khan still had never mentioned a time.  Who knows whether he could make the necessary corrections to the plan in time.  “Well, please, summon us when the time comes.  We’d both be eager to spectate it live, with or without Arron’s acknowledgement.”  He wandered across the room to his wrap and stuck the gamats inside.  “I think that will be all for me today.  You did quite a number on my joints.”  

“As you will,” Khan Terroth replied. “A guard will escort you back to your ship, unless you’d rather wander the station. Perhaps you would like to tour one of our ships. Your engineer, Gulsan Fusek, took the opportunity to do so this morning. From what I understand he was very impressed.”

The Khan returned to the center of the arena and knelt. He took a deep breath. Feel the calm, like the gentle autumn wind on your skin....

Thoris glanced once more behind him as he left.  His feelings were still mixed about the Khan and the Tervidians.  What if he was making the wrong choices?  What if he was handling it all wrong?  It needed further introspection and another conversation with Nala.


***

Joint Post by:

Khan Terroth (played by Daniel)

Commander Thoris ch'Tell
Acting Commanding Officer

***Mission 2, Day 3, 1500 hours***

The captives were taken through the Xeno section to a central elevator. The downward pull of the elevator bore a heavy, pressured feeling like being underneath a great deal of water. When the elevator stopped the pull did not. They exited and were taken down a corridor and through a fortified security airlock before entering what appeared to be the detention center. Khan Terroth signed a tablet and, after an obeisance to her Luminescence, left unceremoniously. Milligan and Drexel were escorted to adjacent cells.

The room was dim. There were windows looking out onto the blue gasses of the Nebula. There was a large cot along the wall and a reclining chair in the center. There were places on the chair for restraints, but for a cell it was actually very pleasant. Their escorts left them in adjoining cells, though the sound insulation left little possibility of communication. There was a view screen on one wall facing the chair. A video of a humanoid type face began to play.

"Xeno, a neural-medical expert is about to come in to prepare you for tomorrow's trial. You will need to remain seated in the chair during this process. The data pertaining to the case will be loaded into your consciousness. Please do not resist. Thank you."

Arron wanted to snort at the announcement, however the effort would have caused him more pain than he was willing to endure at the moment. Instead he looked around the cell he had been placed in. He had to admit, compared to the facilities on board the Yorktown, this almost looked like a hostel.

“Bradley!” he called out, then wincing from the pressure on his chest. When no reply came, he understood that the Lieutenant likely could not hear Arron calling out to him. He braced himself against the wall, and hammered his fist on it several times, wondering if Bradley would hear, or feel the vibrations coming from his action. Again no response. His eyes drifted to the video screen where he had begrudgingly watched the announcement. He wasn’t sure what all was entailed by the aforementioned ‘neural-medical expert’ but was certain he didn’t want to find out.

Instead of sitting on the chair per the video’s instruction, he sat on the cot, finding the pressure on his chest much more tolerable and preferable to standing.

**********

Bradley stared at the screen watching the video play. "Xeno, a neural-medical expert is about to come in to prepare you for tomorrow's trial. You will need to remain seated in the chair during this process. The data pertaining to the case will be loaded into your consciousness. Please do not resist. Thank you."

“Don’t count on it,” Bradley said aloud while still pacing. He saw the chair in the middle of the floor. His anger was getting the best of him. He had to find a way to calm down before it got the best of him. He sat on the cot trying to control his breathing.



**********

An alert sounded and a tall Tervidian walked in with a cart.

"Arron Drexel," a tenor female voice said. "Please take your place in the chair and I will allow you to understand the evidence laid against you."

His eyes flashed open. He fixed the Tervidian with a cold stare. “You’ll allow me?” Arron scoffed at the notion. He stood up, unconsciously clutching at his chest as he did so, as the pain radiated throughout his torso, causing a brief sensation like he would never be able to breathe. “Tell me, has your race always been this arrogant, or am I just meeting the ones with social issues?" Arron asked making his way to the chair.

"I see no arrogance in this," she shrugged. She stood about 7'8" in white form-fitted armor. Her form was curvy with broad shoulders, ample breasts, narrow waist and wide, rounded hips. Her sky-blue skin was accented by ebony hair hanging halfway down her back. Her face looked very human, though proportioned to her much larger body. "When you take your place in the chair I will fit your with a headset. When I activate it the memories of your crew pertaining to the charges will be uploaded in roughly chronological order allowing, or enabling if you prefer, you to observe and experience the evidence."

She took a headset from the cart, adjusted it, and placed it gently on Drexel's head. Rectangular crystals on the headset began to glow.

Images and sounds began flowing into Aaron's mind. He could see crewmen, hear conversations, discussions, read data on pads and display screens. It was all in first person; in each...memory?...it was as though he was there experiencing it. They were fairly innocuous at first. There were debates between crewmen about the election. At some point, he wasn't sure when, the Tervidian left the room. The memories continued. There were heated moments, many questioning his own command. Then came the signs of the mutiny. There were readings from nursing staff and hints in secure transmissions. There was Luther stumbling upon Sumo's communique after reading a racy message between the Maynes. There was Vestara kissing Sumo. There were countless little things on the part of Dr Wells and ultimately the rally and the mutiny itself and he experienced all of it like it was him. Then there was the mutiny itself. He felt the terror in Sarah the Vulcan-Human child and her mother as the mutineers came to take them hostage. He felt the shock of watching Keren Dyleese die at Bradley's hands from every eye that witnessed it. He saw, heard and felt the moments when Alexis Jameson and so many others were ambushed and either stunned or knocked unconscious. He felt the fear and shock of Chierna and the other mutineers who in many cases had not fired a phaser since their initial training and now had attacked their crew mates with mixed results. He saw the same mutineers struggling with their transition to normalcy when the antidote kicked in. Finally, he saw himself having a romantic dinner followed by the attack by the Maynes as seen from his eyes, Nala's, Vestara's and Luther's in turn. He felt Vestara's pain as the hypospray burst into her face. He felt her despair as Sumo abandoned her, and more recently the devastation as Omar revealed that she was drugged. Then one more memory played: his conversation with Thoris post mutiny.

“I am sorry you have had to deal with this mess...my mess. I was a fool to give Sumo and Wells the benefit of the doubt. It certainly isn’t fair that you have had to deal with this.”

“Why the hell are you doing this?!” Arron said fiercely, struggling in the chair. “Don’t you think I have replayed all this in my mind a thousand times already!?” he continued screaming. Realizing his restraints were not loosening from his struggles, he went limp and sighed heavily as tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

"It is important that you know which evidence is being reviewed," the Tervidian said calmly. "If you wish to review specific evidence a simple thought will call it forward on your behalf. I understand that many of the memories were not your own and may require extra consideration. I will return before your trial for the apparatus. Please be prepared to submit your plea at the beginning of your trial."

She bowed with a smooth grace and turned to the exit.

"Doctor Couren will be in to see you shortly," she added. "It seems provisions have been made for your medical care."

Arron slammed his head against the back of his chair in frustration as she left.

*************


Bradley looked over at the door and spat as an alert sounded and a tall Tervidian female walked in with a cart. She took a moment to observe Bradley's protest.

"Bradley Milligan," she said calmly. "Will you be cooperating or shall I need an orderly to restrain you?"

“I...I...I want to talk to my lawyer,” Bradley said, crossing his arms and raising his chin. “I’m a citizen of the United Federation of Plants, and I have rights.”

“You are a male in the queendom accused of failure to defend a female,” the Tervidian replied. “You have a right to view the evidence presented and make your case.”

“I said that I wanted a damn lawyer!” he insisted. “Hell, even the Cardassians have representation, and they decide the verdict before their trials even take place!”

The Tervidian woman regarded him coolly for a moment. She had beautiful eyes, he’d give her that even if they did look cold as ice; cold beautiful diamonds. “Our law does not have lawyers in the sense that you desire. The facts are presented, and the Justicar, Viceroy, and third discuss among themselves and with the accused what that evidence seems to entail. If you will take your seat I will place this headset on you and you will be able to review the evidence. Once Bradley was seated in the chair the Tervidian female fitted him with a head set. Memories, a few his but mostly from others, began streaming into his head. A weird sensation filled him and he grew queasy as the memories began to play.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded of the Tervidian woman, who sat stoically adjusting some dials on the cart. There was a little of the prelude to the mutiny, including the meeting with Drexel and the others, Karina placing the tracking device, David Mayne being taken to the brig...he experienced that from every angle but David's. Mayne was ranting about Sumo. He reached up and yanked the headset off, sparking a new wave of nausea. “I asked you a question! What the hell is this?!”

“A neural upload,” the Tervidian replied. She placed on hand on her shoulder and the other on his forehead. Her firm grip applied to a nerve near his spine caused him to relax and the nausea to depart. “When the crew of the Yorktown was scanned we uploaded the memories encoded in their DNA. This is standard procedure for new arrivals. These memories can be uploaded to your consciousness. This has entertainment purposes, but is also standard practice in legal proceedings.”

“You’d think that standard procedures could be explained to new arrivals, and guests at that, rather than throwing them into a cell with a giant dental chair,” Bradley growed, “or is that also considered standard procedure?”

She released him and retrieved the headset. She adjusted a crystal on it, then adjusted the settings on the cart. She returned to his side and placed the headset in his hands. “It should not make you nauseous this time. Place it on your head with this side in the front when you are prepared to continue.”

“You shouldn’t ignore your guests when they ask you questions.”

“Guests shouldn’t turn down the opportunity to defend themselves either,” she replied. “And very little of what has gone on with the Yorktown has been standard procedure. However, the arrival of such a large vessel and the manner of your intraship politics had made this a very non-standard situation.”

“Non-standard situation,” he scoffed. “You have a way with words, ma’am.”

“And you have this time to prepare your defense,” she gestured to the headset. “I believe it will be worth your time. I understand that you have a much better argument for your defense than your former captain.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Review your evidence, Mr. Milligan.”

He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before donning the headset again. David Mayne’s incarceration returned to his view. Then the display continued. Everything that he or any one of his security officers saw, heard, or read that was a warning sign of what was to come rolled before his eyes. He saw the sensor data that showed the gathering for the rally, experienced the rally itself, and the mutiny began. I could not have prevented this. It was initially a lawful, if poorly timed gathering. He watched the entire mutiny from the perspective of each of his security personnel. He saw, heard and felt the moments when Alexis Jameson and so many others were ambushed and either stunned or knocked unconscious. He felt the terror in Sarah the Vulcan-Human child and her mother as the mutineers came to take them hostage. He felt the fear and shock of Chierna and the other mutineers who in many cases had not fired a phaser since their initial training and now had attacked their crew mates with mixed results. He saw these same mutineers struggling with their transition to normalcy when the antidote kicked in. Then at the last he watched his exchange with Keren Dyleese. The hell with them, I couldn’t prevent that either! She attacked me! Then he saw it again, and again, and again through the eyes of every person in the room; every person except Keren Dyleese.

“I don’t know what else your dear Queen thinks that I could have done,” Bradley said at last, a blend of anger, frustration, and despair edging into his voice. “Captain Drexel knew everything that I knew. And when Keren came to take the bridge by force what was I supposed to do? I disabled the phasers. I stopped her from taking the ship. What more could I have been asked to do? I ask you, you overgrown smurf, what more could I have possibly done?!”

“That is the question you should take to your trial,” the Tervidian replied. “If you would like to review the evidence, you may do so. Otherwise, I will take my leave of you.”

“Take it away!” He took a deep breath and turned away, then looked at the woman through the corner of his eye. “No. Show it to me again. If I’m going to be held accountable for things that couldn’t be stopped I want to be damn sure that I KNOW they couldn’t be stopped and can show them.”

Maybe it’ll save my hide. Maybe it’ll save the Captain’s too.



Lieutenant Bradley Milligan

Former Captain Arron Drexel

Khan Terroth, 14th Royal Legion

***Mission 2, Day 3, 1540 hours***

Doctor Couren entered the cell with an armed Grumatal escort and a Klingon-Hardaerien hybrid of some unknown proportions pushing a medical cart. Drexel didn’t seem to be in any condition to harm her though. She took a medical scanner from her bag.

“Cracked ribs, bruised organs, head trauma,” she shook her head. “Arron Drexel, what did you do to earn this?”

Arron grimaced, he had been enduring the pain for long enough, and was grateful that the Tervidians had offered some medical assistance to him. Though it WAS a Tervidian who had caused the pain in the first place. “Met a real charming Tervidian” Arron said through clenched teeth. “Never caught his name, but I suspect from the rest of the species I have seen, he is considered a dwarf” Arron said referring to the ‘diminutive’ 6’6” alien that that had assaulted him on the Yorktown.

“And why did he react to you in this way?”

“I guess you could say we didn't see eye to eye.”

She gestured to the assistant then turned back to Drexel. “We’re going to need to reset some bones. Do you want to remain conscious or not, and if conscious do you want general anesthesia or localized blockers?”

“If it’s all the same to you Doctor, I think I will stay conscious and alert. No anesthesia. I don’t relish the thought of waking up in an even more precarious and compromising position than I find myself already in.” Arron said truthfully.

“If I understand correctly, you find yourself accused of failure to defend females,” she said, placing gloves on her hands. “I doubt you could find yourself in any more precarious situation.”

“So it seems, though I find the fact that these people feel they have right to make such a claim on a vessel and crew that has no ties to Tervidan’s, their law, or this queen of theirs; completely absurd.

“Why wouldn’t they have a right?” she asked, taking a long, fibrous tool with a sharp tip in one hand while the assistant lifted up Drexel’s shirt to exposed his battered ribs. “All things in the cloud are the Queen’s.”

Arron snorted at the comment. “We are not subject to the Queens laws. We weren't even aware their species even existed until a week ago.”

“I’m afraid that you are” she said, piercing the skin with the tool. The ends looped through Drexel’s flesh and found their way to the ribs, tendrils wrapping the bones and moving them into their proper positions. “The Tervidians learned early in their history that power belongs to those who make themselves strongest. The Queen’s entire society is structured to maintain that power as best as possible.”

Arron bit his lip, preventing himself from crying out at the discomfort he was experiencing.

“You do realize...” Arron said before a large intake of breath as another sharp pain shot through his chest, “That not one single government in the established alpha quadrant recognizes this people, or their territory?” Arron finished bewildered.

“The Queens, in their wisdom, have chosen to keep it that way for generations,” Helen shrugged, continuing to set Drexel’s ribs. “Usually, drifters are taken and either they are brought to forget they’ve been here or they become part of the Queenspace. That is how my forebears came to be here, and how I have been privileged to be raised in the cloud.”

“Brainwashing” Arron said dismissively. “I must answer for my mistakes to my own people, my leadership, my government. My Father is one of our top military leaders...there will be no greater punishment than informing him how I have let my uniform down. Trust me on that one” Arron said turning his thoughts inwardly.

She stood still and looked him in the eyes. “Brainwashing... Arron Drexel, you scoff and condemn that which you do not understand.” She withdrew the tool from his his chest as the assistant handed her a fresh one to do the other side of his ribs. She inserted it less gently than before. “It is no wonder that Khan Terroth threw you across a room. You are smug, foolish, and entirely self absorbed. You presume that our entire population has been brainwashed, and think only of how YOU are going to deal with your father.”

Arron laughed out loud, or at least he tried to. “Smug?” he said giving a scathing look at the doctor. “You honestly expect my people to be okay with Tervidians passing judgment on us regarding laws we were completely ignorant of? Have you ever been outside of this nebula? The galaxy is a large place, and with so many species interacting with each other each government must take care to educate visitors on the proper etiquette to follow, as what one culture discerns as acceptable behavior is completely illegal on another planet. Its a difficult process, and there are always complications, but we are able to conduct business in a civil and cooperative manner all across the galaxy.” Arron sighed as he felt another sharp pain. “

“Civil and cooperative?” It was her turn to attempt to contain scorn. “The last major wave of drifters into the nebula were refugees trying to escape a war that entailed almost every major government from the nearby void. The Cardassian derelict you passed coming in arrived and began firing as soon as they encountered a vessel. Your border is swarming with bio-mechanical fiends attempting to absorb all life into their collective. Wars strike cyclically between all of your governments, and now your own is dissolving into war as we speak. Do not presume to tell me you are civil and cooperative.”

Arron knew he referenced the Dominion War, and shook his head, “You guys are so secluded from the rest of the Galaxy here, you think you have it all figured out don’t you. It must be easy to sit back and watch the rest of the quadrant unite together to fight against an invading force that has no intention of anything other than the complete domination of all species. How comfy life must be for you all to not have to shed your blood, risk your lives for hundreds of species who are defenseless against such a foe.”

“The dominion had their allies on this side of the wormhole too,” Helen replied. “ And we shed our blood more than you think. The creatures of the Garedzek must be kept at bay, and there are more than a dozen species under the protection of the Queen to consider.”

“Yes and I'm sure these threats are such a major concern to the rest of the galaxy that you so bravely keep us all safe from them. Where were YOU when the Borg invaded and assimilated BILLIONS, where were YOU when the Dominion came through the wormhole and laid waste and total destruction to places like Betazed, Cardassia, and the Romulan and Klingon Empires. Tervidians are nothing other than a race of cowards. You all like to talk and act tough, but when it comes down to the good of all species, your nobility goes right out the goddamn window!” Arron could feel his blood pressure rising, and a quick look to the left showed that his words had agitated the guard.

“Stay back,” she commanded the Grumatal, who had raised his gun and was stepping forward.

The Grumatal spoke, his voice deep and raspy. “The Borg are on the opposite end of your territory from us and there is little we could contribute. There were domestic issues to be addressed at the time of your Dominion war, made complicated by the influx of refugees. Believe it or not, a fleet of Dominion ships made their way into the nebula searching for resources, just as your vessel did. They did not leave. The shape-shifters were destroyed. What few others survived were absorbed just as any other drifter would be.”

“You have your prime directive about non-interference,” Helen said after a moment. “You have encountered other races of heightened technology who have passed your people on from their territory with the admonition to return when you were ready. This is how the Queens over the generations have chosen to be with the void. We have dozens of populated worlds of our own to tend to, hundreds of stations, billions of lives. They have chosen to protect them by these policies.”

“Non-interference?” Arron said. “Yet, here I am...a prisoner on your station, based on actions”, or in-actions, thought Drexel “that concerned not one Tervidian, or the subjugated species you consider under your protection. The problem is our own. Our prime-directive explicitly prohibits us from becoming engaged in matters of disorder or political discontent on planets that are not under our jurisdiction. I find it hard to believe that a race as big and powerful as these Tervidians does not have some similar prerogative.

“This isn’t your prime directive though, is it?” Helen replied. “I am not Tervidian. My ancestry is primarily human, and I do not pretend to know the minds of the Queen, may or Glory never fade, the Viceroy, or Lord Commander of the 14th Legion, but I can tell you some basic facts. First, there was weapons fire all over your ship, energy weapons, potentially dangerous in the cloud. Second, when a ship using too fast of warp speed in the cloud it causes disruptions, disruptions which specifically draw the attention of predatory creatures in the Garedzek large enough to eat your vessel. Third, a shuttle craft launched from your vessel and jumped to as fast a warp as it could manage. It started within your shuttle bay, which tempered some of the issue, and the fleet was able to disperse the rest, but you would have pursued them. Many many lives could have been lost this way.”

Arron shook his head, “All the more reason to place a giant caution sign at the entrance to your home.” Arron tried to suppress the image of an old ‘Deer Crossing’ sign near his parents old home where he grew up, the ground transport vehicle they had used would frequently pass by the sign, and a younger Arron Drexel would have his face pressed up against the view port anxiously looking for a glimpse of the animal depicted on the sign.

“Hello Void, we have monsters in a cloud full of dilithium with planets that have anti-matter cores which, by the way, you need to fuel the ships you’re constantly throwing at each other in fruitless attempts to control everything you see,” she rolled her eyes and looked at him. “How did you ever ascend above your rank of ensign?”

Arron frowned, “It is customary for the civilized species of the quadrant to drop sensor buoys warning future vessels of the dangers ahead. Apparently inter-species cooperation isn't a strength of this region.” He winced at yet another sharp pain, “I’ve met Klingons with a gentler touch with their d'k tahg.” Arron said referencing the common dagger Klingons traditionally carried. “Are you sure you're a doctor, and not a second year drop out?”

“A gentle touch is what landed you in this situation though, isn’t it former captain Arron Drexel?” she interrupted.

“....Look we can sling insults at each other all day, but I really don’t have a quarrel with you.” Arron said sounding exasperated. “This has been a long and very confusing week for me. I’m tired, I am sore, and I want to be with my people. I honestly do not mean you personally any disrespect.”

“Don’t you?” She withdrew the implement from his chest.

“Put yourself in my position Doctor...it has not been a thrilling experience”

“It seems to me that your people are better off without you,” she replied calmly. “Captain Ch’tell is cooperative, if somewhat disgruntled. No further harm has come to any of them.”

Arron chose to ignore that statement at the moment, this woman, while human, was just as arrogant as the Tervidans he had come across. Berating her with that fact was not going to alleviate his current position.

“Drexel, life is good in the Queenspace,” Helen said. “We have food. We have shelter. When the nobility decide to go to war with one another we are left out of it. I have the opportunity to serve the queen, whose lineage has treated mine well since our arrival. I realize that your antagonistic attitude has roots in your recent experiences, but if this is how you behave at your trial tomorrow I suspect it will go very very poorly.”

“I have a feeling that my verdict has already been determined” Arron said starting to feel like his breathing was becoming less labored. “There is a reason we spend months preparing for ‘First Contact’ situations...I have no doubt this entire ordeal will one day find its way into a training manual at the Academy...,’Common Mistakes When Meeting a New Species - Lessons from Arron Drexel’ -” he mused.

A smile crossed Helen’s lips. Her face looked much prettier than with the stern look before. The assistant took the implement from Doctor Couren’s hands and gave her a syringe. “This has nanites that will repair the organ damage and relieve your headache.”

“Nanites?” Arron said uncomfortably. His first thought was immediately of the Borg. “I’m not sure how comfortable I am with that” He suppressed a shiver.

“Yes, nanites,” she said, sticking the needle into his belly and injecting them before he had time to object. “They should dissolve in your system after their work is done. As to the other matter, regardless of whether the verdict is set or not, there is variation in sentencing. Your attitude could be the difference between a slightly lengthened indenturement and being impressed into Legion 6.”

“I’m sure you would find that after a good nights rest, no punctured organs, and a migraine that has cleared, I am a much more amiable character.” Arron said forcing a smile.

“Let’s hope the Viceroy, Justicar and third agree.”


********
Joint Post by

Arron Drexel
Civilian Prisoner
Tervidian Detention Center

Doctor Helen Couren
Xeno Absorption and Emigration Specialist
14th Royal Legion

Mission 2: Day 4 0535 Hours

Gong, gong, gong

Midalva stretched and rose from her chaise longue. She wrapped herself in a long, pearl studded robe. She lifted a crystal amulet nearing the queen’s seal from the stand beside her and fastened it around her neck. Whoever was ringing her bell this early in the morning couldn’t be doing so without a good reason. However, if it was an emergency they would have chimed in and told her so. There weren’t many people with the level of self-importance necessary to disturb her. She wanted them to feel certain they understood that the importance was only self.

She strode confidently over toward the entry and gestured for the female Grumatal who served as her personal attendant and body guard to open the door.

“Good morning, Dukeris, you’re looking wonderful this morning,” said the voice of Lord Commander Horthik. She couldn’t help but admire the man. Most military commanders were hard, direct men whose only devotion was to the glory of the queen. Horthik did the queen great honor and was a man of unparalleled command skill. He was as beautiful, and as hard and tough, as a diamond with a soft gold setting. His consort was a lucky woman. He must flatter her shamelessly, clever man. The Grumatal, Dukeris was no fool to be taken in by a simple compliment, but she smiled diplomatically and invited the Lord Commander inside.

“Viceroy Midalva,” Horthik bowed. “I seem to have caught you early in your day.”

“Indeed you have,” she replied with a diplomatic smile of her own. “Come, have a seat, I’ll have some goregos juice poured for you if you like.” She took her place leisurely on the chaise longue while Horthik, already in full uniform, stood politely beside a stout wooden chair.

“I must admit, I have always admired your decorating,” Horthik said, taking his seat only after Midalva was fully settled.

“If one is to travel on a juggernaut, surely she can do so with some style,” Midalva replied. She snapped her fingers and a brown skinned, ridge browed Hardaerien in serving livery appeared carrying a picture and two glasses of the red-orange goregos juice. Horthik accepted the glass and took an elegant sip.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” the Viceroy said, observing him drink. He was wise, testing the drink for poison before indulging more fully. No doubt he had been trained a the Queen’s military college to taste for the more common maladies that could be prepared. “Officers drink far more deeply than that in the morning.”

“I was savoring the juice,” Horthik replied with a smile. “It isn’t often that one drinks it prepared by one from the very planet they originate on.”

“Brignorok has been in my employ ever since her indenture ended.” Midalva took a deep drought from her own glass. “Hardaerien’s are excellent helpers.”

“Indeed,” the Lord Commander agreed, taking a deeper drought himself. “Detail oriented; discrete; honorable; queen loving; tough as nails in combat, an area in which I can assure you they excel in; and from a factor 1 gravity planet. What more could one ask for?”

“Indeed. I do suspect that my personal attendants were not the primary reason for your personal appearance at my door in the wee hours of the morning.”

“Are you sure?” A white smile crossed his blue face. “Dukeris is lovely and Brignorok does prepare excellent juice to get the day started just right.”

“I am not in the mood for games, Lord Commander,” Midalva censured him. She took another drink before returning to her diplomatic smile.

“Neither am I,” Horthik said. He drained his glass and set it on the end table. “Which is why I came to visit you in the company of your discrete and honest attendants.”

“Explain yourself.”

“You have had Arron Drexel and Bradley Milligan arrested and they are set for trial later today, a trial for which you have not appointed a third. The crew of the Yorktown has been scanned but not one has been prepped for either their return to the void or beginning their indenturement. We have not prepared any of our xeno agents to go to Bajor and deal with this Sumo which you know is a threat to the sanctity of the Queen’s cloud. Khan Terroth has scheduled a sparring match with the new captain of the Yorktown this morning, much to the dismay of several of the junior officers on board this vessel who had wanted the use of that specific arena. One of my finest doctors spent half the night working on and monitoring medical care of a xeno who doesn’t seem to appreciate her existence very much right now. Standard procedures in all of this are being given merely a passing nod. Now, I realize that the Yorktown and the troubles in the void make for a significantly non-standard scenario, but the Queen in her wisdom has prescribed certain patterns. Yet here you sit, in a robe made of pearl, looking like the Queen herself had appointed you a princess or a governor. Why is that?”

“Because I am fulfilling the will of the queen, may her glory never fade,” Midalva replied. She finished her drink while Horthik repeated the obeisance. “I will answer some of your concerns.” Probably more than I intend, clever man. “I had planned to extend the invitation to attend as third to an appropriate female last night but there were complications. The crew of the Yorktown will not be forgetting their experiences here. This is wisdom on the part of the Queen. Her Luminescence has a greater use for them.”

“I expect that she does,” the Lord Commander replied. “Might I inquire as to what that greater use might be?”

“You may inquire all you like. I may answer when the time is right.” He’ll stew on the possibilities. His mind is too quick. He may stumble across the right one, but he’ll fall over several wrong ones and dance between them all as he tries to decide which is the most plausible.

“And what of my other concerns?”

“Khan Terroth has right to any facility he chooses to use, both on this vessel, over on Laratha Station, and anywhere else in the purview of the 14th Legion that he chooses to set his boots.” She gave an elegant shrug. “I’m certain he wishes to learn something from the Andorian, and wants the Andorian to learn something from us.”

“And Sumo? The use of my doctor?”

“Your doctor?” she raised a brow. “Lord Commander Horthik, that surgeon serves Her Luminescence, may her light ever shine through the darkness, and Her Luminescence, may her wisdom forever guide us, had need of her. As for this Sumo… he has violated our laws, profaned the tranquility of the Queen’s cloud, and placed many lives in jeopardy. I assure you, he will not be getting away so easily.”

“Shall I have our usual agents prepared?” Horthik asked.

“No,” she answered. She smoothed her robe and stood. The Lord Commander followed suit in respect. “If there is nothing else you need, Lord Commander, I have someone that I need to speak to this morning who should be ready for me shortly, and I do have to appoint a third for today’s trial.”

“I think you have shared a sufficient dose of the queen’s illumination,” Horthik said with a bow.

“May her Glory never fade,” Midalva said, mentally noting that he hadn’t said it first.

“May her Glory never fade,” Horthik repeated. “Is there anything I might assist you with, Viceroy?”

“Have drydock 7 at L14B prepared for xenoship modification,” Midalva said after a moment. “And inform them that Khan Gillgorok will be traveling there as soon as you can arrange passage for him.”

“Certainly, Viceroy,” the Lord Commander bowed and Dukeris showed him out.

“Dukeris,” Midalva beckoned once Horthik had exited.

“Yes, my lady,” the Grumatal answered in the raspy voice of her furred race.

“Contact the commander of Laratha Station. Tell him I will be shuttling over soon to visit my special guest in the xeno medical facility. Also, have him instruct the quartermaster of Laratha Station begin preparing allotments suitable for the crew of the Yorktown.”

“Will they be staying long?”

“The time scale is indefinite at the moment,” Midalva said honestly. A lot was depending on the trial. Even more was depending on the potential reactions of the Yorktown crew to the trial. If she knew anything about Star Fleet it was that they were willing to play along with others until the others didn’t play their way. She hoped their new captain would learn some wisdom during his time with Khan Terroth. She had a lot of hopes riding on their new captain, and a few on their old.


Viceroy Midalva
14th Royal Legion
Aboard QL14 Theresonel 2; Juggernaut

Lord Commander Horthik
14th Royal Legion
Aboard QL14 Theresonel 2; Juggernaut

Dukeris, Grumatal, Special Attendent of the Viceroy

Brignorok, Hardaerian, Personal Servant of the Viceroy