Chapter Text
USS Gibraltar - Docked to Federation Starbase 12
Denise Murakawa strode down the narrow corridor on her way to Sickbay, returning from her meeting on the starbase with the chief medical officers from the ships participating in the task force. As she navigated the passageways, Murakawa marveled that people could live and work aboard so small a vessel. She was used to the spacious corridors and living areas of a Nebula-class starship, and even though Gibraltar’s crew compliment was a relatively small one-hundred and forty souls, the ship still felt cramped. It was hard to believe that nearly a century earlier this same ship had supported a crew of over four-hundred. They must have stacked them like cord wood, she thought sardonically.
She stepped into Sickbay to find the pre-mission staff briefing already underway.
Although in her opinion these people were not on par with her hand-picked staff aboard the Sutherland, Murakawa trusted in their skill and professionalism sufficiently that she had not felt it necessary to oversee the more mundane departmental tasks. Heading up a routine pre-operational logistics accounting was something Taiee could handle.
On her way towards her office, Murakawa paused as she noticed the two EMH Mark I’s were activated and present among the nurses and med-techs as Taiee worked through a medical inventory checklist. The atmosphere of the meeting was noticeably casual, with various personnel laughing and joking as the admittedly boring inventory process continued. Denise didn’t object, in fact she worked to keep things light with her own staff to help cope with the pressures of the job.
Murakawa completed her daily quota of datawork, then spent an hour drawing up the ship’s specific operational plans for various contingencies, including planetary evacuation and mass casualty crises. She glanced up to see Taiee standing in the doorway.
The regularly good natured lieutenant was putting up a valiant front and had remained her jovial self for the benefit of her coworkers in Sickbay and the crew at large. Taiee was widely accepted as the ship’s unofficial morale officer, as well as the emotional rock upon which many of the crew anchored.
“You wanted to see me, Doctor?” Taiee struggled to keep her voice inflection neutral.
Murakawa, cognizant of Taiee’s discomfort, tried to choose her words carefully. “I noticed your medical holograms were activated during the meeting. Might I ask why?”
Taiee stepped a bit further into the room, clearly ill at ease with being on the other side of what had been her desk. “They’re part of the medical team,” she replied succinctly.
“The EMH is supposed to be a short-term emergency supplement to a ship’s medical staff, Lieutenant.”
Taiee frowned. “Perhaps that’s the case aboard larger ships with more abundant medical resources, Doctor. However, without a physician’s knowledge base, I rely on our holograms for assistance in everything from diagnoses to surgery.”
Murakawa shook her head. “That’s unacceptable. You’re using them as a crutch, one that will ultimately undermine your own skills and judgment.”
“A crutch?” Taiee echoed incredulously. She gestured through the transparent partition towards the EMH that was still online. Taiee had left it activated to teach a refresher to the medical staff on staunching arterial bleeding, utilizing a holographic victim. The nurses and med-techs looked on with rapt attention, in stark contrast to their earlier levity.
As she pointed to the hologram, Taiee struggled to keep the mounting anger out of her voice. “The EHM contains every piece of medical knowledge ever compiled by the Federation, Doctor. Two hundred years of accumulated brilliance… Phlox, Darvanger, Carrington, McCoy, Pulaski… their ideas, their skills, they’re all in there. How could I not use such a phenomenal resource?”
Murakawa nodded. “I agree wholeheartedly that they’re a useful tool, Lieutenant. However, becoming dependent upon them risks not only losing your edge, but ultimately endangers the welfare of your patients.”
Taiee folded her arms across her chest in an unconsciously defensive gesture. “I’ve managed without them before.”
“I’m sure you have, but as acting CMO it’s my job to make sure that you’re prepared to take on a medical crisis without having to rely on the hologram for help.”
The lieutenant stared expectantly. “What are you suggesting, Doctor?”
“Are you familiar with a 24/QPS?” Murakawa studied the nurse-practitioner’s face, aware that her response would demonstrate just what kind of medical professional she was.
Taiee stiffened slightly. “Yes. It’s a twenty-four hour quarantine protocol scenario. It’s a pre-graduation exercise for doctors in their final year at Starfleet Medical Academy. A simulated pathogen infects a starship crew, and the medical staff has twenty-four hours under deteriorating circumstances to identify and treat the infection.”
Murakawa smiled. “Precisely. And to make things more interesting, the simulation takes place in circumstances where the starship in question has lost portions of its computer core memory. As the scenario progresses you’re going to lose access to more and more of the medical database, so time is most definitely not on your side.”
Taiee’s face took on a defiant cast. “When does this begin?”
“Report to Holosuite Two with these people at thirteen-hundred hours.” The doctor handed Taiee a padd containing the names of eight of the ship’s medical personnel selected at random.
Taiee turned to leave, pausing on the threshold. “Has Captain San—“
Murakawa replied curtly and cut off Taiee’s line of inquiry. “The captain has already approved this training, Lieutenant.” She directed her most confident smile at the nurse. “Despite what you may think, this isn’t a punishment, or me trying to grind you down. You’re a good CMO, but you could be better. I’d like you to see for yourself what you’re capable of.”
Taiee left without another word, deep in thought as she succumbed to a growing sense of anxiety.
*****
Alshain Heavy Cruiser Venska - In orbit of Son’a administrated Tarlac colony Norfander XII
Captain Yejokk looked on with obvious distaste as Sutahr R’Voss placed the targeting reticule directly over the central urbanized area of the Tarlac colony on the surface. R’Voss drew his lips back to expose his glistening teeth to the Klingon officer. “You disapprove, Captain?”
“Slaying your enemies in battle is one thing, Sutahr. Slaughtering the helpless from orbit may be effective, but it is not the way of the warrior.”
“What would you have me do, Klingon?” R’Voss brought himself to his full bipedal height, though his species was equally comfortable moving on either two or four limbs. “They are the foot soldiers of my enemy. If I leave them, they and future generations might take the lives of my kin in battle.” His smile became ever more predatory. “Besides, they are only Tarlac. If it had not been for the Son’a’s interference, these creatures would still be drawing on cave walls with charcoal. Instead, they have warships and phasers and swear allegiance to their Son’a masters.”
Yejokk stepped forward. “Beam down, and engage them in person, Sutahr. I do not object to your killing them, but at least show them the respect of looking them in the eye as the deed is done. Give them a chance to defend themselves as men, to die on their feet.”
Snuffling with laughter, R’Voss’ ears twitched in an Alshain approximation of a head shake. “Sometimes I find it difficult to believe your people overcame the Dominion, Captain. Your antiquated code of honor belongs to an age where men fought one another with bows and swords.”
Yejokk’s cold smile was tinged with irony. “Perhaps, but it serves us.”
The Alshain captain turned back to complete the targeting process. R’Voss aimed the Son’a manufactured isolytic subspace weapon at the planet’s surface, targeting the two-hundred thousand plus inhabitants of the world’s capitol city. “It will appear that the Son’a, fearing that this planet would fall into our hands, decided to cleanse it with fire rather than allow the Tarlac to live under Alshain rule.”
“I’m curious. Exactly how did such weaponry fall into your hands, Sutahr?”
R’Voss grinned fiercely. “Their arms depot at Wuan’bado was the target of our first attack against the Son’a Imperium. We took possession of a cache of these devices.”
“Use of such armaments is a flagrant violation of the second Khitomer Accords,” Yejokk offered, his tone carefully impartial, “to which the Alshain are a signatory.”
The Alshain captain turned to look at his Klingon counterpart. “As is your covertly providing cloaking technology to our government.”
Yejokk found himself returning the Alshain’s toothy smile. “An excellent point, Sutahr.” He moved to a vantage point offering a better view of the main screen. “Do we know what effect this weapon will have on a planetary body?”
R’Voss released control of the weapons console to his tactical officer and then moved to sit in his command chair. “In fact I have no idea.” He glanced sidelong at his Klingon advisor as the sutahr said, “Let us find out together, shall we?”
*****
Eiayna City, Tarlac colony Norfander XII
Ancient Tarlac myth told of a Judgment Day on which the demons of old would tear the sky asunder and boil the seas. Although the threat of attack by the Alshain had spurred much of the population to near panic, few would have believed that the day to end all days would have arrived today.
The isolytic weapon detonated some thirty kilometers above the city. It caused a subspace shear and sent out a shockwave measuring over one-hundred isotons. Just seconds prior to the overpressure wave annihilating the city, the subspace wave front swept across the surface, a bizarre confluence of energies forcibly pushing peoples’ consciousness out of their bodies. Each and every one of the Tarlac witnessed the demise of their physical forms from a surreal out-of-body perspective. An instant later the overpressure front pulverized the entire continent and blasted the seas in that hemisphere into superheated steam.
The Venska witnessed the death of Norfander XII as the ship thrust away from the stricken world at half-impulse. A monstrous shockwave swelled out from ground zero to spread across the planet at thousands of kilometers per hour. The subspace tear upset the gravitational balance of the planet’s orbit, shifting the planet off its axis as R’Voss’ ship was tossed about like flotsam on a breaking tidal wave.
As the Alshain captain pulled himself back into his chair, he stared with near disbelief at the image of the shattered planet, shocked from its gravitational plane. He glanced to Yejokk as the captain struggled to his feet and exclaimed, “Now we know…”
*****
Forward Observation Post B'hala - Aulerg Moon - The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
The pressure door hissed open and light poured through the opening that forced Anij to shield her eyes against the unexpected intrusion. She could discern the form of a man standing in the doorway, but it was not until she heard his voice that the ember of hope in her heart grew to an open flame. “Gallatin!”
He embraced her tightly, picking her up off her feet, happy to know he had at least one friend left in the cruel universe that had so recently claimed most of his dying race. “It’s alright, Anij. We’re safe for the moment.”
“Where are we?”
He lowered her to the floor and took her hand to lead her slowly out into a bare, cement-walled corridor. “We’re on a moon, though I’m not entirely sure in what star system. Some of the Son’a are here, along with a new ally.”
She looked at him after a cursory examination of her new surroundings. “What’s happening, Gallatin? Why did the Alshain attack our world? What did you and the others do to provoke them?”
It was a perfectly valid question under the circumstances, despite the discomfort it generated within Gallatin. He led her to a small lounge of sorts, though it was bereft of any windows it boasted a dozen tables and some primitive looking food replicator units. They sat as Gallatin tried to find the right words under Anij’s expectant gaze.
“When our group was first exiled from home, we set out to forge empire for ourselves. But... we had nothing but a handful of old ships, and the technology that you, our parents, had abandoned when you settled Ba’ku. We discovered races like the Tarlac and Ellora nearby, primitive by our standards, but they were easily controlled and we convinced them that we were their gods. We forced them to work for us, made them soldiers and laborers, and settled them on uninhabited planets so their numbers would grow.”
Anij’s eyes glistened as she absorbed the litany of the Son’a’s crimes.
Gallatin continued reluctantly, “But then we came across the Alshain Exarchate, whose empire hemmed us in and threatened our acquisition of new territories. They were an ancient power, now in decline. Generations ago they controlled a sizeable portion of the Alpha and Beta quadrants, but their empire was now a mere shadow of its former glory. We were still no match for them in a direct confrontation, so we decided to take another path.”
Overcome with emotion, he took a moment to retrieve a hot, heady smelling drink from one of the replicator slots as he struggled to contain his grief and embarrassment. He returned to the table and accepted Anij’s offered hand has he resumed the difficult tale. “We manufactured a potent narcotic, ketracel-white, and introduced it to the ruling nobility of the Alshain. We became the sole suppliers of this drug, and we used their addiction to the white to influence and manipulate generations of their leadership. We stole their technology, annexed their territory, and undermined their society at every opportunity. Most of our industrial and military strength came at the expense of the Exarchate.”
Tears streamed down Anij’s cheeks, her eyes wide with shock and revulsion. “So, they have just cause to hate you. To hate us…”
Gallatin nodded ashamedly. “They do indeed.”
“But why now? What brought all this to a head?”
As he looked down at his cup, Gallatin said, “After the Federation thwarted our attempts at collecting your planet’s metaphasic radiation, the Son’a allied themselves with the Dominion, an aggressive power from the Gamma quadrant determined to conquer the known galaxy. The Alshain took this opportunity to join the Federation alliance opposing the Dominion.”
He took a long draught of his drink with a shaking hand. “Our side lost, and now the Alshain have set about collecting the spoils of war. They wish to re-establish the Greater Alshain of ages past, and in so doing they’re intent on wiping out the Son’a, our servant races…” he looked up to meet Anij’s unwavering gaze, “…and our parent race.”
She collected herself and managed to hold her anguish in check for the moment. “What are we to do, Gallatin? Can these new allies transport us to the Federation? Perhaps Jean-Luc and his people can help us?”
Gallatin finished his drink. He appeared to have regained some of his composure following his difficult confessions. “The Federation has its own problems right now. I don’t think we’ll be seeing them anytime soon. But, the remaining Son’a and these Bajora-Tava are planning something big, something that may slow the Alshain advance into the nebula.”
Her countenance darkened. “More fighting. More death.”
“That’s what it’s going to take for us to survive, Anij. The Alshain won’t rest until we’re all dead, or until the last handful of us have been pushed so far away from our homes that we’re no longer a threat.”
She shook her head dejectedly. “This all seems like a bad dream, a nightmare that refuses to end.”
He held her hand more tightly. “It will end, Anij. I promise you that. The few of us that remain will reclaim our heritage and retake our homeworld.”
“But at what price, Gallatin? What will remain of the Ba’ku soul at the end of such a conflict?”
He had no answer for her.
*****
Deck 6, USS Gibraltar - Federation Task Force Peacekeeper - Approaching the Briar Patch, Warp 7
Sandhurst stepped through the parting doors into the turbolift, mildly surprised to find Ramirez inside. “Don’t you have the midwatch?” he asked.
She smirked. “I do, but Lieutenant Ashok was determined that I needed to see firsthand the adjustments he’d made to the impulse engines to decrease the likelihood of our overheating the impulse manifolds once we’re in the Briar Patch.”
The captain nodded. “Well, we’re seeing improvements in that respect. On Enterprise’s last visit they were restricted to one-third impulse. With the assistance of the SCE we can now achieve half-impulse, maybe better.”
Ramirez gave him an inscrutable look. “You sure you don’t want to go down there and check Ashok’s work, sir?”
“Bridge,” he ordered the computer. He cast a glance at Ramirez. “I’m sure that’d go over like gangbusters, Commander. The man’s already nursing an inferiority complex; I don’t need to heap any more anxiety on him.”
She smiled approvingly. “Good. I’m glad you’re finally giving him some space.”
“I had to. Have you seen the man? He’s a mountain.”
Ramirez chuckled lightly.
Sandhurst looked momentarily thoughtful, then ordered the turbolift to pause its ascent. He asked suddenly, “Is it just me, or have things seemed a bit tense onboard in the past few days? I don’t mean pre-mission jitters; it’s something else, I think.”
“Let me ask you this,” Ramirez replied cryptically. “Who’s the person that keeps us all on an even keel emotionally?”
“That’s easy, it’s Taiee.”
Ramirez smiled patiently at Sandhurst’s perplexed expression, letting the man work it out for himself.
He winced slightly after a moment. “Oh. Dr. Murakawa’s test.”
“Right.” She chided gently, “From her perspective, you had her replaced by a new CMO who’s now calling her abilities into doubt publicly by putting her through some very difficult testing of questionable necessity.”
Sandhurst frowned. “I thought the 24/QPS sounded like a good idea. Taiee’s very capable, and I felt this testing would only serve to enhance her abilities.”
Ramirez looked unconvinced as she replied, “Your intentions may have been good, sir, but Taiee and her team failed the simulation. Now, she’s angry and embarrassed, and you’re seeing that mood reflected by a large portion of the crew that she’d normally be helping to keep in good spirits.”
He sighed, closing his eyes. “Damn it.”
His exec remained silent, having made her point.
“Resume,” Sandhurst ordered, and they continued their journey upward.
The two officers, each lost in their own thoughts, exited onto the bridge. The magnificent panorama of the Klach D'Kel Brakt filled the main viewer.
Lar’ragos nodded to the captain and XO from the Tactical station as the pair assumed their respective posts. The Chief Security/Tactical officer offered a status report, “ETA to the entry portal is fifteen minutes, sir. Enterprise has ordered us to reduce speed to one-quarter impulse as we approach. All vessels are scanning actively for any sign of threat activity.”
“Acknowledged, Mister Lar’ragos,” Sandhurst responded as he initialed a fuel consumption log with his thumbprint for the Chief Operations officer, Lieutenant(j.g.) Olivia Juneau.
Juneau resumed her station at the crescent shaped console in the bridge’s well, taking her seat next to the Flight Control officer, Ensign Brett Lightner. The ensign’s gaze remained fixed on the approaching nebula as he leaned in towards Juneau to remark, “Can you believe the Klingons and Romulans fought a war inside there?”
Juneau looked up and gave the orange and crimson nebular cloud a dismissive glance. “It was a battle, not a war. And now it appears it’ll be our turn.”
Lightner quirked an eyebrow. “Fatalistic much?”
She laughed without humor. “Simply extrapolating based on our track record to date.”
From behind them at her station in the well, Ramirez cleared her throat loudly and asked, “Would you kids like to share with the rest of the class?”
“No, ma’am,” they replied in unison, using their most petulant child-like tones.
In the command chair, Sandhurst smirked slightly at the exchange. “Let’s keep our eyes open, folks. There’s a lot of people unhappy about our presence here.”
From behind him at the Tactical station, Lar’ragos intoned, “Hostile territory, aye, sir.”
*****
USS Enterprise - Federation Task Force Peacekeeper - Approaching the Briar Patch, Warp 7
Captain Picard leaned forward in his seat, the anticipation of their arrival at the nebula causing his skin to tingle. He was too much the professional to allow his crew to sense his excitement, however. Anyone other than Counselor Troi.
“Mister Data, order the task force to drop to one-quarter impulse on your mark for nebular entry.”
“Aye, sir,” Data replied evenly as he relayed the instructions to the rest of the starships. As the task force dropped to sublight, the android’s board chirped insistently, and he quickly distilled the incoming sensor information for his captain. “Sir, we have located what appears to be a fixed communications buoy in the center of the entry conduit.” Another chime from the sensors presaged his assessment, “It appears we are being scanned, Captain.”
“Yellow alert, shields to full,” barked Riker from the seat to Picard’s right.
“Incoming transmission from the buoy,” announced the Tactical officer. “Audio only.”
“On speakers,” Picard ordered.
“Federation vessels, be advised that a state of hostilities exists within the nebula between the Alshain Exarchate and the Son’a Imperium…”
“It appears we were expected,” Riker noted sotto voce to Picard.
“…Any attempts to interfere in the internal affairs of the Exarchate will be interpreted as an act of war. It is strongly recommended that you reverse course and avoid the Klach D'Kel Brakt until such time as hostilities have been concluded.”
The message repeated, and Picard motioned for its termination with a cutting gesture at his throat. He stood and tugged at his uniform as he pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Any signs of anomalous activity aside from the buoy, Data?”
“No, sir.”
Lt. Commander N’Saba, the Alshain Starfleet officer turned from the Science station to observe the captain. Unbidden, he offered his thoughts regardless. “You may be assured, Captain, that they mean what they say. They’ve also made a point to avoid clearly establishing exactly what constitutes ‘interference.’”
Riker craned his neck to look at the supercilious lupanoid. “Then how are we to know when we’ve crossed that line, Mister N’Saba?”
“When they open fire, Commander,” was his terse reply.
“Very well.” Picard crossed his arms and moved to a position between the Helm and Operations consoles. “Inform the task force, all ships to red alert. All ahead at one-quarter, Enterprise has the lead.”
*****