Ad Astra :: Star Trek Fanfiction Archive ^{Beam me up, Scotty.}

Chapter Text

* * *

Lieutenant Titus Helvia stood near one edge of Reykjavík’s arboretum, a compartment of the ship few crew ever visited. Being as the ship was not designed for deep-space exploration and was granted frequent shore leave privileges, there was no need for a larger, more diverse arboretum facility aboard. As such, it was only the die-hard botanical enthusiasts who frequented the area, Helvia among them.

He gently trimmed the bonsai trees with practiced delicacy, each cut a deliberate movement, intentional violence inflicted upon a living thing in the interests of beauty, of form. He was accustomed to such gestures, given his eclectic upbringing.

Once a wealthy, preening dilettante, his family’s misfortune had seen them cast into the gutter and him into the arena, a puppet for the entertainment of others. His Starfleet crewmates knew him only as an ascetic, a solitary figure who neither drank nor socialized with his fellow officers. As far as his shipmates knew, Helvia’s life consisted almost exclusively of work, training, prayer and meditation.

Helvia was a great bear of a man, nearly two meters in height. He possessed thickly muscled arms, a massive torso, and well-defined legs of surprising speed and power. The man was the living embodiment of his people’s twisted ethos, the product of generations of eugenics sorting for traits of strength, intelligence, stamina and guile. His blond hair was cut stubble-short, accentuating his deeply set blue-gray eyes under a heavy brow. He had an aquiline nose and well-defined jawline that only served to enhance his seemingly cold, aristocratic mien.

Helvia had been born and raised to be a leader, a man equally at home whether standing in on the floor of the Senate or in mud up to his waist leading men in battle against the barbarian hordes of the hinterlands.

Here in his off-duty hours, he wore a simple blue tunic of rough material and a Roman kilt of exquisitely tailored leather. On his feet in lieu of uniform boots were caligae, heavy-soled hobnailed military sandal-boots favored by Roman legionaries of centuries past. Into the neckline of his tunic had been stitched five golden links of chain, the symbol of his faith, the outlawed church of the Children of the Son.

In his mind’s eye he saw the flash of swords clashing as he executed each cut of the small tree. The warmth of the UV ceiling lamps reminded him of the blistering sun overhead the coliseum, heating the burning sand that scorched his feet as he scrabbled for purchase, seeking firm footing against his circling foes.

Helvia had been born on a planet which appeared as 892-IV on Federation star-charts but was known as Magna Roma to its inhabitants. It was a world nearly identical to Earth, populated by people of human stock who had likely been seeded there millennia earlier by parties unknown. As for what had produced a planet so geologically, gravitationally, and environmentally similar to Earth, down to the shape of its oceans and land masses, Federation science had no rational explanation.

“Good evening, Lieutenant.”

Trujillo’s unexpected arrival startled Helvia, who stiffened before turning abruptly to come to attention. “Commodore, sir.”

Trujillo, clad in her uniform vest over her white turtleneck undershirt, smiled patiently. “At ease, Lieutenant. I wanted to pick your brain regarding the Gorn, and how they might react to our diplomatic overtures.”

Helvia set aside the pruning shears. “You sought me out here, sir?”

“I did,” she confirmed. Trujillo glanced around for a moment before her eyes settled back on Helvia. “You’ve been aboard almost six months, and I hardly know anything about you, Mister Helvia. You keep to yourself, as is your right, but aside from forcing my way into your quarters, this seemed like a reasonably good alternative for discovering more about you.”

“I am my duty, sir,” Helvia replied. “I serve Starfleet as recompense for the Federation taking my family and I in when we had nowhere else to go. This…” he gestured to the surrounding arboretum, “…is as close as I come to recreation. I have found that I can meditate here as well as in my quarters, but here I can simultaneously contribute to the beauty and order of the surroundings.”

“Order is important to you,” she said. It was a statement rather than a question.

“It is. Order is predictable. Comfortable, even.”

She nodded. “Having read your service jacket, I think I can understand the attractiveness of an orderly existence after the life you led prior to Starfleet.” She looked up at him as he towered over her like roughly hewn statuary. “And I’m guessing your biographical profile likely doesn’t cover even half of what you endured prior to leaving Magna Roma.”

Helvia nodded fractionally. “And you would be correct, sir.”

Trujillo gestured to the pathway of crushed rock that meandered through the arboretum. “Walk with me, Lieutenant.”

Helvia dutifully followed, a half-step behind his commanding officer.

“The Gorn,” Trujillo said. “We’ve apparently attacked them without provocation. So far, they’ve demonstrated admirable restraint, but that may not last, especially if we discover Repulse has struck other Gorn targets we aren’t yet aware of. Commander Davula and Lieutenant Garrett have devised a plan which might enable either we or the Gorn to collapse the white hole phenomenon. That could repair the enviro-spatial damage we caused. However, I don’t know how receptive the Gorn will be to our overtures.”

Helvia pushed past a varietal of grape vine as the two of them passed under a trellis. He said, “The Gorn are unpredictable, and their behavior is dependent on a host of factors. Those are, in no particular order, which Gorn faction we’re dealing with, how territorial their military command is at any given moment, and whether the Gorn are at the mercy of any outside influences.”

“Outside influences?”

The pair paused to duck under a low hanging branch from a type of Tellarite tree with bright pink leaves and lavender seed pods, with Helvia having to stoop much farther to avoid the obstruction.

“It has been known for almost seventy years that Gorn behavior can be affected by stellar phenomena and variations in stellar light emissions, though the precise mechanisms are not yet fully understood.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that it’s nearly impossible to judge what kind of reception we’ll get from the Gorn?”

“An accurate summation, Commodore. I can tell you that they will be dangerous in any event, and even if we’ve established some kind of rapport with them, one or more of their kind may not hesitate to attack if they sense an advantage or perceive a weakness.”

Trujillo shook her head, frowning with frustration. “How can a species so hyper-predatory even cooperate with each other sufficiently to achieve space-flight, let alone an interstellar empire?”

Helvia offered a smile. “God’s universe is endlessly complex, sir. Within it lay limitless variety.”

Trujillo stopped in her tracks, glancing back at the large man. She was unaccustomed to genuine spiritual references from her subordinates, and to her knowledge Helvia had never made one while on duty. “Did the Children of the Son crib that from the Vulcans?” she teased.

He laughed, and Trujillo thought it was a delightful sound, full of genuine warmth. “Not to my knowledge, sir. However, most sentient species come upon these truths in their own time. Call it IDIC or call it the Word of the Son, truth is truth.”

She cocked her head, hard-pressed to argue the point. Her combadge chirped, “Davula to Commodore Trujillo.”

Trujillo tapped the device, “Go ahead, Commander.”

“Commander Glal has signaled to advise us that they’ve made contact with Repulse, sir. Captain Keller and his XO have been placed under arrest for failure to follow orders of a superior, and Commander Verde has appointed himself their provisional legal counsel. Gol and Repulse are on their way to us, ETA is a little over ten hours.”

“Understood. Tell Glal nice work, and we’ll see him shortly.”

“Aye, sir.”

Trujillo fixed her gaze on Helvia. “Hopefully we’ll have answers to some of our more pressing questions before too long.”

“Yes, sir,” he agreed. “However, I would advise keeping Repulse out of Gorn sensor range. If they’re able to identify her, it could encourage reprisals that would endanger our present détente.”

With a sober nod of assent, Trujillo muttered, “Indeed.”

* * *

Leo followed the curve of the narrow corridor on deck six, approaching T'Rel's stateroom. He kept his eyes upon the numbered sections, as he intended not to miss it. Upon witnessing the security trio guarding her door, he realized the futility of such a fear.

A Tellarite chief warrant officer wearing a short tan beard raised his hooved hand toward him. "Sorry, Commander, but are you authorized to be in this area?"

Offering a friendly smile, Leo pulled his credentials from a pocket and handed it over. "I presume you're Sheriff Dursh?" He addressed the chief warrant officer using his colloquial title, as those with years of experience in security often earned.

"I am, sir." Dursh accepted the badge case, opened it, and studied his status and authorization. "My apologies," he replied, handing it back.

"Never apologize for doing your job," Leo told him as he replaced the case in his pocket. "Listen, I had one of your deputies formally arrest Captain Keller and read him his rights."

"Good," Dursh grunted. A smirk tugged at his right tusk. "I presume that the captain was displeased."

Leo closed his eyes, smiled, and hung his head. "To say the least. Before he tossed me out and exercised his rights, he took the opportunity to shout some obscene invectives in my general direction."

Dursh glanced back. He and Leo noticed that their conversation enjoyed no privacy, judging by the amused expressions on the faces of the deputies. "What's your next step, sir?"

"Sadly, I have to arrest T'Rel as well." Leo lowered his voice and asked, "Could I impose upon you to step inside with me?"

"She won't give you any trouble, sir," Dursh assured him. "But, I suppose you need a witness per procedure." Off of Leo's confirming nod, his snout twitched. "Very well. I will accompany you."

"Thank you, Sheriff, I appreciate it."

"Before we go in, let me say, she doesn't deserve this," Dursh informed Leo sharply. "She's a good officer."

Leo sighed. "I know."

Dursh approached the hatch and touched the annunciation control on the panel. "Commander, it's Sheriff Dursh and Commander Verde from JAG."

T'Rel's contralto tones resonated over the small speaker. "Enter."

Leo followed Dursh inside and waited for the hatch to close shut behind him before speaking. "Commander, I'm Leo Verde, deputy sector judge advocate."

She rose from her seated position and nodded. "We meet again, Leo."

Her claim of familiarity briefly stunned him into silence. "My apologies, Commander. I don't recall that we've met before."

"It was brief, but we were introduced by a mutual friend; Lieutenant Commander R'raia. At her Wetting Down on Starbase Ten," T'Rel supplied the details. She added, "It is how I know that she and many others refer to you as 'Rally.'"

Leo cheeks colored as his more intimate nickname surfaced. The exposure left him stammering before he recovered. "O-Oh. Right. Forgive me, then, as my only recollections of that evening may have been compromised by the volume of alcohol consumed."

"Indeed." She held out her hands with her wrists together. "I presume that you are here to take me into custody. I willingly surrender to your authority."

Her capitulation discomfited Leo. With chagrin, he turned to Dursh. "Sheriff, sorry to ask you, but would you mind reading the commander her rights?"

Dursh frowned at Leo. "Fine." He reached for a set of wrist binders from his belt.

"No binders," Leo added quickly. He leveled his gaze upon T'Rel, "I have your word you'll remain in quarters until further notice?"

She lowered her hands and inclined her head a single time. "I agree to remain confined to quarters."

"Then, by order of the convening authority, Commodore Nandi Trujillo, you are under arrest for violation of the Uniform Code, specifically Article Ninety-Two, Failure to Obey Order or Regulation, Ninety-Nine, Misbehavior Before the Enemy."

T'Rel noted tonelessly, "I understand the charges."

Dursh began speaking, "Commander, you have the right to remain silent…" He continued, informing her of her right to counsel, to be informed of all charges, and a fair trial. "Do you understand these rights as I have informed you, sir?"

"I do," she said, in a tone slightly softer than before as she spoke to Dursh.

Leo asked, "I have questions for you, Commander. However, if you wish to invoke your rights to counsel or to remain silent, I can save those for when we return to base."

"Has Captain Keller been arrested?"

"He has."

"Then may I ask how he chose to act?"

"Uh…" Leo stammered as he glanced at Dursh, who shot him an angry glare in return. "He chose to remain silent."

T'Rel placed her hands behind her back and nodded twice. "I understand. Then, with all due respect, Leo… I shall do the same. I invoke my right to remain silent."

Dursh grunted his approval.

"I understand," Leo replied. "I have other aspects of the investigation to complete in the meantime, but if you wish to speak to me, please let the guards outside know and they'll reach me."

Wordlessly, T'Rel acknowledged his offer with a small bow of her head before turning her back on the pair.

Dursh led Leo back out to the corridor. "I did not enjoy that."

"Nor I, Sheriff, trust me. But… it had to be done. Commodore's orders," Leo reminded him.

Faced with the reality of a flag officer's command, Dursh sighed. "Very well. What's next?"

"I need to get to the bridge and chat with Captain Glal to advise him of our status," Leo said as he walked toward the turbolift. Dursh followed, so he continued, "Then, if you can help me out, put me with the best snipes you got on board, because I need to pour through the computer and find out what happened over here."

* * * 

Reykjavík now held position proximate to a larger grouping of Gorn vessels. The reptilians' equivalent of a battleship was flanked by two Ravager-class cruisers and a full half-dozen hunters.

The visual feed opened to display an elder Gorn, a Grolch, a massive slab of reptilian ferocity. The older the Gorn became, the more hardened they were, literally. Their skin thickened into a scale-like armor, the outer layer of their eyes crystalized into well-nigh impenetrable protective lenses, and their tails atrophied and fell off. These seniors of their species were much slower than their younger soldier cadre, but they were cunning, seasoned, and ever so hard to kill.

Trujillo had taken to heart the old axiom, ‘Beware the elderly in a species where beings usually die young.”

Gone was the stilted communication as apparently the Grolch were more adept at linguistics than their younger kin.

The hisses, clicks, and growls from the wizened Gorn leader were duly translated into Federation Standard.

“Federation vessel, we have discussed the situation and your offer of compensation. It is wholly insufficient. We are the aggrieved party, and yet every compensatory gesture we have offered has been refused. We realize you are soft, and weak, and that the consumption of the offending starship crew may seem excessive by your perverse mammalian morality, but if adequate compensation is not made, we will attack until we have achieved parity of loss.”

Trujillo cleared her throat, “What would be your estimation of loss parity?” she asked.

“A number of defensive outposts and ships equal to the investment in time and resources necessary to construct the base that you have attacked and destroyed. We estimate that to be at least twelve of your ships and five of your outposts, or the destruction of your nearest starbase facility.”

Davula muted the comm-channel and noted, “Sir, they really are being very pragmatic about all this. Almost any other species would have already attacked, given the level of provocation we’ve provided. We have to give them something, or they’ll strike, and they’d likely demand loss parity for any more of their ships we destroy defending our territory from their reprisal raids.”

“The tab is in danger of getting very steep, very fast,” Trujillo muttered. She opened the channel. “What if Starfleet were to scuttle the appropriate number of facilities and starships within view of your sensors. Would that suffice?”

A number of officers turned from their posts to look at Trujillo with expressions of open surprise, one fully slack-jawed. She ignored them.

“Let us discuss this further among our cadres, Starfleet,” the elder said.

“Before you go, in the interests of demonstrating our goodwill, I would like to send you our research on possible ways to seal the rift that has formed at your facility’s former coordinates,” Trujillo offered. “Otherwise this might become a major navigation hazard and a source of communications and sensor interference throughout the region.”

“We will accept your data transmission,” it answered.

Trujillo duly sent the files containing Davula and Garrett’s ongoing theories regarding the white hole phenomenon.

“We will contact you again in thirteen of your hours to continue negotiations,” the elder advised, severing the comm-link.

Trujillo sank back into her chair before turning to face Davula. “I have the strangest feeling that I’m about to become even less popular with Command than I already am.”

Her Bolian XO raised an appraising eyebrow. “Do you want my response, sir, or a Glal answer?”

Trujillo smirked. “Oh, this I have to hear. A Glal answer, please.”

“Yes, sir. I believe that in these circumstances Mister Glal would say, ‘diplomacy, house-guests, and fish all begin to smell after three days.’”

The commodore nodded slowly. “They’re welcome to send a full ambassador out here if they don’t like the options I’m providing.”

“And risk taking the reputational hit for potentially sparking a war with the Gorn, sir?” Davula said, stepping closer to Trujillo’s chair and speaking in a low tone for her ears only. “Oh, no. I think they’d much rather you take the fall for all this.”

“That, Mister Davula, is precisely what I’m afraid of.”

* * *

“Good grief, Trujillo, you can’t be serious?” Vice-Admiral Nkosi stared at her across the intervening light years, as displayed upon the data-terminal in her ready room.

“I’m simply exploring options, Admiral, based on my ongoing negotiations with the Gorn.”

“But I can’t believe Command would— no, certainly not. I’ve never heard the like!”

“I would remind you, sir, as my own exec reminded me a short time ago, that the Gorn are being uncharacteristically reasonable about this. Were this nearly any other major military power in the quadrant, we’d likely already be at war.”

Nkosi’s ebony skin accentuated the tiny lines around his eyes that crinkled when he was in distress. He was clearly in distress now. “This was an accident at best, a rogue officer at worst…” Nkosi fretted, his mind still struggling to catch up with recent events that had plunged his quiet little command over the sectors along the Federation/Gorn border into chaos in a matter of days.

“None of which matters at the moment, sir,” Trujillo replied, nudging the man gently back on topic. “Repulse is on her way back here under escort, and early reports indicate that Keller and his XO both insist they had valid action orders to attack that research facility, orders that now cannot be located. We’re at fault here, regardless of why. We destroyed their station and likely killed hundreds if not thousands of Gorn in the process. If they agree to this proposal, we’d be sacrificing replaceable equipment, not people, in the interests of preserving the peace.”

“How do you know that if we start scuttling starships and defensive outposts along our mutual border that they won’t take the opportunity to attack while we’re wrecking our own fortifications?” Nkosi posited.

“Because we’d station a fleet out here just to be sure they didn’t, sir,” she answered calmly.

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head in frustration. “I’ll kick it up the chain-of-command, but I can’t imagine your plan will find much traction.”

Trujillo leaned closer to her terminal. “I have Captain Tarrant from Intelligence aboard, both consulting and collating intel from both sides of the border. These repeated Gorn pauses to consider our offers are serving two purposes, one of which is allowing them to bring more ships to the area. Long range sensors indicate that the Gorn have gathered somewhere in the vicinity of fifty or more vessels within two light years of our border, with more arriving by the hour.”

“Meaning, what, precisely, Commodore?”

“Meaning, sir, that if we don’t agree to some kind of terms offered by the Gorn, they will almost certainly launch an incursion into Federation space and attack targets of opportunity until they determine they’ve balanced the scales.”

“So, a war then,” Nkosi said with a deepening frown.

“Yes, sir,” Trujillo affirmed.

“And nothing else will satisfy them?”

“Nothing that doesn’t involve handing over Captain Keller and his crew to the Gorn to be used as gestational nutrition or hunting practice, Admiral.”

“It might just be easier to fight them,” Nkosi huffed, half in jest.

“I can do that as well, sir, if that’s Command’s order. With the force we’ve been covertly assembling, I can have thirty-two ships in position within twelve hours. The white hole phenomenon is still playing havoc with their communications and sensor net on their side of the border, giving us a decided advantage in the opening stages of any prolonged engagement.”

Nkosi eyed her warily. “Are you suggesting you want to fight them, Commodore?”

Trujillo returned his gaze evenly. “No, sir. I do not. I am informing you that I am prepared to explore multiple contingencies, should that become necessary. My first choice would be the one I contacted you about initially.”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully before offering. “I see your point, Trujillo. We have a scarcity of good options.”

“I would agree with your assessment, sir,” Trujillo answered, impressed at her ability to edit all sarcasm from her response.

“Maintain position, and keep me apprised of updates. I’ll take this up the chain and see if anyone has the stomach for it.”

"Yes, sir."

* * *