Chapter Text
USS Argonaut - Federation Task Force Peacekeeper - The Ichimide Vortex - The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
It had been such a little thing, really. The storm of micrometeorites had been brief, clattering against the hull of the ship like a squall of hail against the roof of a metal shed. The navigational deflectors were designed to protect every square meter of the ship against damage from such commonplace dangers. On this day, however, there had been a freak mishap, an unlikely statistical anomaly. One of the roughly three-hundred and twenty-two million shards of meteoric debris had made it past the defensive screens.
The resulting microfracture along the starboard nacelle strut was laughably minute, a veritable pinprick only a few microns in diameter. It was so small that the ship’s diagnostic sweeps would not have detected it until it had grown to twice its size. Though tiny as it was, it allowed a few stray molecules of drive plasma to escape into the void.
Navigational hazards were endemic in this part of the Briar Patch, which explained why the Son’a had elected to build a covert anchorage here, establishing a fallback position in the event something catastrophic befell their people.
The officer at Operations sat forward suddenly and her expression tensed as she detected an incoming transmission. “Captain,” she looked back at Sharoudin, “I’m picking up a garbled distress call. It appears to be from the Bellerophon.”
Sharoudin inclined his head towards her. “Let’s hear it.”
“It’s audio only, sir,” she relayed as she touched a toggle to broadcast the message. A static filled yowl filled the air, causing assorted crew to wince. The Ops officer quickly turned down the audio gain, “…phon to Argonaut, we have struck a gravitic mine and sustained serious damage. We have detected incoming Alshain vessels and are attempting to evade them. We need you to rendezvous with us at the accompanying encoded coordinates as soon as possible.”
Sharoudin sat forward, his face now a mask of intensity. “Decode those coordinates and route them to Helm. Lieutenant, as soon as you receive them, set course and engage at best speed.”
A litany of affirmatives answered his orders, and the Helm officer came hard about to set course for the Delta Arigulon system. As the Steamrunner-class starship executed the turn, the microfilament of superheated plasma trailing from the micrometeorite strike drifted into a pocket of volatile metreon gas. Even had the shields been raised, it likely would have made little difference in the outcome. The resulting explosion jarred the ship off course, and before anyone aboard could react, the plasma filament had ignited. Like a burning fuse it retraced its path back to the nacelle strut and into the plasma conduit within.
The destruction of the matter/anti-matter reaction chamber was followed less than a second later by the rest of the starship. Three hundred and twenty-seven people were dead before they had even fully processed the shockwave from the exploding metreon pocket.
Argonaut had been assigned as Bellerophon’s patrol partner, the only vessel in close enough proximity within the chaotic EM environment of the Klach D'Kel Brakt to receive subspace transmissions from the other in the case of an emergency. As such, their stricken sister ship would find no help on this day when, despite their best efforts, their presence at the Elloran colony was indeed discovered by the unforgiving Alshain.
*****
Forward Observation Post B'hala - Aulerg Moon - The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Anij steeled herself against the needle’s intrusion as it lanced beneath her flesh, drawing up blood, various other bodily fluids, and perhaps the future of her very race.
Adhar Wuuten looked on as the Tarlac medical technician carried out the last in a series of thorough tests designed to map the Ba’ku genome for what he hoped would be a successful attempt at cloning the next generation of his dying species.
The doors parted behind him, and an enraged Gallatin entered the lab. The disruptor he clutched in his hand made short work of Wuuten’s two bodyguards, both of which collapsed onto the concrete floor, stunned. Gallatin holstered the weapon as he rushed Wuuten, barreling into him and knocking the Son’a leader over a table cluttered with diagnostic equipment.
As he landed heavily atop Wuuten, Gallatin wrapped his hands around the man’s throat and began to squeeze as he hissed, “This is how you treat your guests, Adhar? Strapping them down and running obscene tests on them? Your own people you sick bastard?”
Wuuten clawed ineffectually at Gallatin’s hands, gurgling, “She… volunteered!”
Anij called out from where she lay restrained on the inclined exam table, “Gallatin, its true! He asked me and I agreed to help.”
This gave Gallatin pause, but only just. He glared down into Wuuten’s bulging eyes and inquired, “What is this about? Why have you brought us to this Bajoran moon and kept us isolated?” Finally, he realized that his victim was about to lose consciousness and he relaxed his grip. Gallatin clambered awkwardly to his feet amidst the littered chaos of their brief struggle.
The Son’a leader wheezed and took a few moments to collect himself before pulling himself to his feet with the support of a nearby table. Gallatin made no move to help him. Wuuten rubbed his neck ruefully as he took a seat in a nearby chair. “I let you live, and this is the thanks it gets me?”
Gallatin’s hand caressed the handle of his holstered disruptor. “You let us live? What cause would you have for killing us?”
Wuuten, suddenly inflamed, spat back. “Not her, you traitorous dolt. You! You betrayed Ru’afo. You betrayed us all. Why shouldn’t I have killed you for wrecking our plans to resettle the Ba’ku? We might have succeeded had you not joined with Picard and his crew.”
Gallatin relaxed his hand, having to forcibly resist the urge to shoot his former underling. “What we were doing was wrong. It was immoral. We should be better than that. We can be better than that.”
Wuuten shook his head sadly. “We are dying, Gallatin. Our attempts at longevity treatments have rendered us sterile, and the healing energies of our homeworld were our last, best hope for a cure.”
Gallatin scowled as he gestured to the surrounding lab. “Is that what all this is about? Are you still chasing that perverted dream of immortality?”
“No,” Wuuten croaked. “I am trying to ensure that our race has a future, Gallatin. The Ba’ku, or what remains of them, still possess our people’s original, uncontaminated genetic heritage. I am using Anij’s tissues to help in establishing a genetic pool from which we will try and clone the next generation.”
“Clone?” Gallatin looked appalled. “You can’t clone a race from just a handful of people. Without genetic diversity the species would die off from inherited abnormalities in just a few generations.” His eyes widened in sudden realization. “Dear gods, is that why you allied yourselves with the Dominion? Their cloning technology?”
“That is precisely why. They needed ketracil-white, and we needed their expertise in cloning and genetic engineering.” Wuuten had finally recovered some of his strength and sat up in his chair. “With what knowledge we gleaned from the Dominion before their defeat, we can artificially introduce enough genetic variation into the clones’ DNA to ensure viability. We can have a future, Gallatin. Our people will not be extinguished from the universe.”
Gallatin considered this, taking a moment to disarm the two bodyguards who were beginning to stir on the floor. He stood with his back to the wall beside the door, and the former general queried, “What about these Bajorans? Where do they figure into your scheme? You obviously don’t want me having any interaction with them because you’ve gone to great lengths to keep me away from them.”
Wuuten nodded soberly. “They are the Bajora-Tava, an offshoot of the Bajoran people who fled here following the Cardassian occupation of their planet.”
“They’re a long way from home.”
“Indeed,” Wuuten agreed. “They’ve been completely cut off from the outside galaxy during their time in the nebula. Their entire society is founded on the belief that it’s their destiny to one day return to Bajor and free the planet from the Cardassians. They’ve gone from being a militaristic fundamentalist monastic order to a full-fledged warrior culture in less than fifty years.”
Gallatin gave the adhar a scathing look. “You haven’t told them that Bajor’s been free for almost a decade now?”
“Absolutely not.” Wuuten motioned for the Tarlac med-tech to complete his duties as Anij listed with rapt attention to their conversation. “I’ve convinced them that if they can help us survive the Alshain onslaught, we’ll assist them in overcoming the Cardassians and driving them from Bajoran soil.”
“Typical,” Gallatin fumed. “You lie, cheat and deceive everyone standing between you and your goals.”
“You speak as if I’m defrauding a business partner, Gallatin. I’m trying to save our race from extinction, just as you and Ru’afo once did.” He stood stiffly, moving toward the exit. Wuuten stepped over the groggy guards as if they were refuse to be avoided as he shot one final heated look at Gallatin. “Pack your things, Gallatin. We’re taking a trip back to Ba’ku.”
“To what end? Everyone’s dead.”
“Anij says there were between twenty and thirty villagers who were away from the settlement when the Alshain attacked. If they fled along the kelbonite veins back to the same caves they used to hide from us, they may have avoided detection. Those people and their collective genetic inheritance may be exactly what I need to complete this project. That is, unless you’d like future generations to see the Son’a in an exhibit of extinct cultures, right next to the Iconians?”
Gallatin’s only reply was an embittered scowl.
*****
USS Gibraltar - Federation Task Force Peacekeeper - Periphery of the Ba’ku System - The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
As Gibraltar lurked at the edge of the Ba’ku’s home star system, the tension on the bridge was palpable. The senior staff was assembled, with the additional presence of Lt. Commander Pell at the auxiliary station in the well opposite Ramirez.
Lt. Commander Elisto Plazzi, the seasoned science veteran stood watch over the man who would soon replace him, Ensign Kuenre Shanthi. The younger man sat at the Sciences station, the expression on his ebony face one of deep concern as he reported, “Our probe indicates no signs of humanoid life on Ba’ku, Captain.”
The worry lines around Sandhurst’s eyes which had deepened during his recent ordeal were now especially pronounced. Their advanced probe sent into the system to orbit Ba’ku told a sad tale of a vibrant community snuffed out in a matter of moments. Their first mission within the Briar Patch was a sad disappointment. The captain dreaded having to inform Picard of this turn of events.
Adrift within the Oort cloud at the system’s furthest boundary, the ship was rigged for silent running. Aside from the encrypted tight-beam datalink to the probe, Gibraltar was emissions quiet. Main power was on standby, along with tactical and defensive systems, as the starship utilized minimal auxiliary power only. It was nowhere near as effective as a cloaking device, but against the background radiation of the surrounding nebula the vessel’s signature was greatly diminished.
Ramirez stood from her seat, walking to the upper deck of the bridge to get a firsthand view of the probe’s telemetry. She focused on Sandhurst as she postulated, “There could very well be survivors, sir. Picard’s logs of their encounter with the Son’a nine months ago indicate the mountains surrounding the village are rife with kelbonite deposits.”
Lar’ragos picked up on Ramirez’s line of reasoning and added, “If they’d followed those kelbonite veins they’d be virtually undetectable to sensors, sir.”
Sandhurst emitted a reluctant grunt from the command chair. “Maybe, but we’ll have to break cover to find out for sure.”
“We could make a stealth approach,” Ramirez offered. “Keep power systems at minimum and ramp up just enough speed to coast into the system at one-sixteenth impulse?”
“And we’d only spend a week crawling to the planet at that velocity,” Plazzi commented dryly, rolling his eyes.
“Ten hours, actually, sir,” Lightner offered from the Helm.
“Any faster and our EM emissions and thermal signature will light us up like a beacon, Elisto,” Ramirez said defensively.
The heavyset, bearded scientist’s response was accompanied by an expansive shrug. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Commander.”
Lar’ragos frowned. “If it weren’t for the speed restrictions imposed by the nebular density, I’d suggest a near-warp transport. Jump into orbit, beam down an away team, and warp out before anyone could respond.”
Juneau joined the conversation, sounding incredulous. “And leave the away team stranded?”
The El-Aurian met her gaze impassively as he answered, “I prefer the term ‘engaged in detached operations.’”
Her eyes narrowed and the junior lieutenant shot back with, “Sounds a lot like ‘abandoned’ to me, sir.”
Sandhurst started to interject between the squabbling officers when Ensign Lightner coughed into his fist, “Shuttle!”
They turned their heads collectively to look at the young helmsman. He grinned broadly, swiveling around in his chair like a stage performer in the center spotlight. “A Type-8 shuttle has a significantly lower sensor return than a starship. I can put an away team on the surface with a very good chance of zero-detection by potential threat forces and still be in position for an emergency egress should things get hairy.”
A slow smile spread across Sandhurst’s face. “That’s quite a boast, Ensign.” He turned to Ramirez and gave her an expectant look. “Well?”
She cocked her head to one side and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Best idea I’ve heard so far, though it does leave the away team vulnerable. At half impulse, it will still take Gibraltar well over an hour to reach the planet from our present coordinates.”
Juneau looked pointedly at Lar’ragos, mouthing ‘stranded’ and eliciting an icy glare in return.
Lightner cleared his throat. “We’ve seen no signs of capital ships anywhere in the vicinity of this system, sir. If the Alshain have anything smaller hiding nearby, we’ll still stand a very good chance of outrunning them long enough for you to come to our rescue.”
“And you’re comfortable operating in a ‘detached’ capacity, Exec?”
“Aye, sir.” Ramirez affirmed with a wry smile. “I’ll need a security detachment, a science officer, a medic, and of course, a pilot.” She looked behind her at Plazzi as she inquired, “You ready for away duty, Mister Optimist?”
Plazzi leaned against a console, touching a hand to his chest dramatically. “Oh, no, sir. I’m afraid my skills are too valuable to the captain and crew for me to risk myself on such a harrowing assignment.” He gestured to the tall African man seated beside him. “Ensign Shanthi has been requesting more planet-side experience and I think this would be a terrific opportunity for him to display his aptitude.”
To his credit, Shanthi actually did look enthused at the prospect. Sandhurst was briefly torn, a small part of him hesitating to send the youngest son of Fleet Admiral Thousana Shanthi into harm’s way. He caught Ramirez’s steady gaze out of the corner of his eye, and her non-verbal message came through loud and clear. The man’s a Starfleet officer. Let him do his job.
“Alright, Commander. See to it.”
Ramirez moved to the lift, triggering the doors to open. “Lar’ragos, Lightner, and Shanthi, you’re with me.”
As the officers filed past into the turbolift, Lar’ragos turned to the helmsman. “I hope your flying is as sharp as that silver tongue, kid. I’ll take substance over style any day.”
Lightner just smiled wistfully, vowing to let his piloting skills speak for him.
Ramirez followed them into the lift car as she chuckled, “He’ll be okay, Pava, so long as he steers away from dragons this time.”
A moment after the doors closed on the away party, Sandhurst stood. He looked to Ojana and said, “Commander Pell, would you join me in the ready room?” Sandhurst glanced at Plazzi as he headed for the door to his office. “Elisto, you have the conn.”
Pell followed the captain inside, observing him as he rounded the desk and settled lightly into his chair. “Computer, recognize Donald M. Sandhurst, Captain.”
“Recognized.”
“I am logging a temporary transfer of executive officer authority to Lt. Commander Pell Ojana. Authorization, Sandhurst Tango-Epsilon-Zero-Four-Zero-Eight.”
The computer processed that with a series of quick tones. “Temporary transfer of stated authorities logged and accepted.”
Pell looked at Sandhurst pensively. “Expecting trouble?”
He shook his head. “Precautionary. Should something happen to me, you’re the most qualified officer onboard to take command.”
She looked doubtful. “What might happen to you?”
He locked eyes with her and replied evenly, “The possibilities are limitless.”
“What about Commander Plazzi?”
“He’s not command certified, and he’s spent most of the past two decades teaching planetary geology at Berkley.” Sandhurst forced himself to settle back into the chair and relax, though his instincts were howling for him to take some kind of action in the face of his mounting anxiety. “You, on the other hand, are an experienced first officer with all the necessary certificates and qualifications.”
Pell pulled out a chair and took a seat across the desk from him. “Would you like to tell me what this is really about?”
“Absolutely.” Sandhurst interlaced his fingers, resting his hands in his lap. “It’s about uncertainty, and my wanting this ship and crew to survive whatever might be in store for us out there.” He pointed in the general direction of the Ba’ku planet.
She searched his eyes, a hint of disapproval in her features. “You were never this much of a fatalist, Donald.”
He met her gaze unflinchingly. “The man you’re looking for isn’t in there anymore, Ojana.”
“And he’s been replaced with whom?”
Sandhurst answered after only a second’s hesitation. “The captain.”
*****
Forward Observation Post B'hala - Aulerg Moon - The Briar Patch (Klach D'Kel Brakt)
Vadark Jobrin Adnai stepped into the room hesitantly, awed by the ethereal glow of one of the Orbs of the Prophets. The holy icon floated within its open containment vessel, casting a shimmering radiance upon the form of the leader of the Bajora-Tava as he prayed before it. Jobrin was uncomfortable intruding upon the man as he embraced the physical representation of their religion, but he had been summoned.
The vadark knelt, holding his arms out with palms up in a gesture of supplication. “Emissary, I am to serve.”
As he closed the containment case reverentially, the Emissary ceased his contemplation on the Orb of Transcendence. He rose slowly and turned to look upon the vadark, the chief military officer of the Bajora Army of Light. “Adnai, my friend. Rise.” Jobrin stood obediently, moving to the Emissary’s side. “And what is it that our new Son’a friends ask of us now?”
“A protection detail, Emissary. They wish to send a ship to the Ba’ku planet to ‘reclaim their genetic heritage.’” Jobrin’s mouth twitched with dark amusement at the notion. “Their words, not mine. Had they not chosen to pollute their bodies with artificial organs and their heretical longevity treatments, perhaps they would not now need to sift through the remains of their parents’ village looking for bits of flesh and bone to render for their DNA sequences.”
The tall, white-haired man harrumphed with a kind of detached disdain, “Perhaps, Adnai, perhaps. The collapse of the Son’a civilization may well be the will of the Prophets, but it has not yet been revealed to me as such. Until then, we must aid them when and where we can. The Alshain pogrom against them is too similar to what we suffered at the hands of the Desecrators.” So hated were the Cardassians by the Emissary that he would not deign to speak their name.
Jobrin nodded deferentially and intoned, “It is your will that guides my hands, Emissary.”
“If we can help them to overcome this assault on their nation, they may become powerful allies in our bid to free Bajor from the yoke of the Desecrators.”
“As you say, Emissary.”
The spiritual and military leader of the Bajora-Tava stood in contemplative silence for a moment. “Send a squadron of our ships to guarantee safe passage for the Son’a to the planet. They are to provide overwatch and see to their safe return.” He reached out a hand, brushing Jobrin’s earlobe before grasping the man’s shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. “Your pah remains strong, Adnai. It burns like a star. You must remain true to this course, despite your misgivings with the Son’a. They have strayed from the path the Prophets set out before them, and they have been punished as a result. However, with our help, they may come to realize the folly of striving for eternal life in the physical universe.”
Jobrin bowed his head silently.
He patted Jobrin’s shoulder and the Emissary offered the customary parting salutation. “Free Bajor.” It was as much a prayer as a statement of intent.
“Free Bajor,” came Jobrin’s reply, as he moved to do the Emissary’s bidding.
****
Sickbay - USS Gibraltar
“Can I have a moment, Lieutenant?”
Taiee looked up from her work, then nodded curtly as she stood to join Dr. Murakawa. “Of course, sir.”
She followed Murakawa from the main ward into the corridor just outside the CMO’s office. The doctor turned to face her, “Commander Ramirez is assembling an away team to travel by shuttle to the Ba’ku planet. My first inclination is to go with them, but seeing as this is your ship and crew, I thought I’d give you the choice of joining the mission.”
Without pause, Taiee announced, “I’m in.”
Murakawa nodded approvingly, taking note of the nurse’s strong attachment to her crewmates. “When you get back, we’re going to sit down and go over the 24/QPS. Both you and your staff are more than proficient enough to pass this test, but I’ve got the feeling you’re psyching yourself out.”
Taiee looked away, choking back an angry retort. Finally reestablishing eye contact, she replied, “Aye, sir.”
“Gather your gear and report to the shuttle bay.”
*****
The team members were busy packing every square centimeter of the shuttle Heyerdahl with equipment and supplies when Taiee lugged her medical pack and away mission gear through the pressure doors. A chorus of whoops and celebratory shouts greeted her as she approached.
Ramirez poked her head out the lowered aft hatch of the shuttle. “Doc, you’ve come to join the party. Welcome.”
Taiee set her gear on the deck, and walked along the side of the shuttle, running her hand over the name emblazoned on the side of the craft. Stenciled neatly below the name of the famous 20th century explorer was the title, ‘Gibraltar Ambulance Service.’
She looked into the cockpit through the window to find Lightner in the pilot’s seat. Taiee gave him a mock accusatory glare. She pointed to the shuttle’s designation and shouted, “This your idea, smartass?” The last time she’d been aboard the Heyerdahl, she’d been medically evacuated in the shuttle from an attack on a Cardassian refugee camp.
Lightner activated the shuttle’s exterior speakers. “I have no idea what you’re referring to, Doc.” He emphasized his point with an exaggerated shrug. Taiee laughed in response, returning to haul her gear onboard and stow it with Lar’ragos’ assistance.
Lar’ragos gave Taiee a welcoming smile. “Glad to have you with us, Doc.”
As she settled into the side-bench seating between two security personnel, Taiee came to the strange realization that given the choice, this is exactly where she would choose to be in all the cosmos.
Ramirez slid into the copilot’s seat next to Lightner, helping to finish the preflight checklist. Satisfied that they were loaded and ready, she glanced back into the main cabin. “Okay folks, everyone settled in?”
One by one, each of the occupants replied with a raised thumb.
“Alright, then.” She toggled the comms and announced, “Bridge, shuttle Heyerdahl ready for departure.”
“Acknowledged Heyerdahl,” came Juneau’s reply from Ops. “You are cleared for departure. Suggest you take an initial heading of 273-mark-042 to avoid cometary obstructions.”
As he settled his hands on the controls Lightner looked totally at peace with the universe. “And away we go…”
*****