Blood. So much blood. And the screaming. The Taureans
screaming in bloodlust as they close in. Ens. Briggs screaming in
agony from his injury. Dr Holstein screaming in terror as his mind
snaps.
“Got it!”
Ens. Zata announces triumphantly, moving his hands away from the
gaping wound – “wound” is too mild a word; Briggs’ arm hangs
on by a thread, with the bone snapped and much of the muscle sheared
clean through by a Taurean throwing-spear. “Phaser, beam setting.”
He reaches out, not taking his eyes off of the ruin of Briggs’ arm
just in case the temporary clamp slips from the artery. I pass him
his from where it lies, flicking the dial to the correct setting. He
takes a breath, wipes the sweat from his brow – leaving a large,
bloody smear – and then takes aim at Brigg’s injury. Lt Stephen
Drake and I hold the poor ensign still while Zata completes what the
Taureans started and amputates his arm, a few inches below the
shoulder. The phaser does a cleaner job than the spear’s jagged
blade, cauterising as it cuts. The small metal clamp stopping Briggs
from bleeding out onto the alien soil melts under the phaser’s beam
and the flesh around it sears, filling the air with the smell of
cooked meat. Dr Holstein stops screaming and starts to sob instead.
It is quieter at least. Briggs also stops screaming, and now lies
still. Zata sighs, emotionally wrung-out.
“Is he…,”
I start to ask.
“He passed
out,” Zata answers, his fingers checking Briggs’ pulse at his
throat. “Weak but there.”
“We need to
move, sir,” I say to Drake. He nods and looks around nervously; we
can hear how close the Taureans are.
“Ens. Zata,
Miss Hylkis,” one of Dr Holstein’s research assistants looks up,
terror in her eyes. “I need you two to get Briggs and everyone
else to the shuttle.” He passes his phaser pistol to Hylkis and
unslings his rifle. “You know how to use one of these?” She
nods. She’s scared, we all are, but she’s coherent. “Good.
Tarsi, you’re with me. We’re going to draw fire in the opposite
direction to the shuttle to give them a clear head start.”
I nod. “And
once they’re aboard?” Drake hesitates. He hasn’t thought that
far into the plan. This is his first away mission as a CO, and he’s
not as prepared as he wants to be. Honestly, none of us are.
“I can
pilot a shuttle,” suggests one of the research assistants. I do
not know his name. Never will. “I mean, I’m not licensed but…,”
“It will
do,” says Drake, as he thinks quickly to formulate a rough plan.
“Get everyone onboard, then take off and head for our position.
Don’t try to land, just get close enough to scare off the natives,
then throw down a line.” I nod in agreement. It’s as good a
plan as we’re going to get right now, and we don’t have time to
work on another one. “Ready, Lieutenant?” he asks me.
“Ready,
Lieutenant,” I reply. I start with a photon grenade. It’s loud
and flashy, guaranteed to get attention, and it does. The Taureans
pause in their wailing, their prey located. Drake and I rush out
from cover, him with his rifle, me with mine and Briggs’ pistols.
The first couple of shots are blind and wild, more about getting
attention and causing disruption than doing any damage. After that
we start to aim. We can see them now, and they can see us, but we
can shoot faster and further than they can throw. One Taurean takes
a rifle bolt to the face and staggers before flopping heavily to the
ground. A spear whistles through the air and lands where I had been
standing. The air flickers and flashes with the light from our guns.
We hope it disorients the Taureans even if it doesn’t hit them.
Their spears are primitive, but Briggs could testify to how effective
they are. The shielding in our away uniforms are designed to absorb
and redirect energy weapons, but against a heavy bladed spear thrown
by a three-metre-tall humanoid they’re just cloth.
Drake curses
as a spear hits him. I turn in horror, expecting to see him on the
floor, impaled, but he still stands. The spear must have tumbled in
flight and caught him with the shaft, not the blade. But one arm
hangs limply by his side and he has to fire his rifle one-handed. I
drop Briggs’ pistol. Or is it mine? I drop it and use both hands
for the other to steady my aim. A Taurean dies a moment later. I
stand still and another one is gone. Another. Another. Another.
There are so many of them. Where is the shuttle? Drake is crouching
next to me, using his leg to brace the rifle as he fires. Another
Taurean. There are so many. Too many. For every one we fell, three
more appear. We keep shooting. Another. Another. Another. My leg
goes out from under me and I don’t even know why. I shoot as I
fall and try to get back up, but my leg won’t respond. I keep
shooting, prone. I can no longer hear Drake’s rifle. Another.
Another. Why am I cold? I’m Andorian. We can lie in the snow and
be comfortable. Another. The sun starts to set, I think. It’s
getting dark. Another. My phaser stops shooting. It’s getting
darker. And colder. So many. So many.
***
“Lights,”
croaked Tarsi. She had been sitting in her bed for several minutes
before she found her voice, cold sweat coating her skin and her vest
clinging wetly to her back and chest. Her room slowly flooded with a
gentle, bluish-white light and she sat there unmoving for several
more moments.
“It didn’t
happen like that,” she reminded herself, her voice on the verge of
cracking. “I am alive. I am Lieutenant Commander Tarsi zh’Enis
and I am the First Officer of the USS Trent, and I am alive.”
Tarsi looked confused for a moment, then shook her head to clear it.
“Commander and on the Wakefield,” she corrected
herself, then sighed. She stared at the door out of her room for a
long while, unblinking. Eventually she turned and stood from her
bed, then walked over to her medication nook and sat down next to the
low table with its large IDIC statuette. It was one of the few
personal items she’d unpacked since coming aboard. She sat
cross-legged, a little stiffly, and stared at the IDIC, focussing on
the gem at the top of the pyramid. After some time, she closed her
eyes and focussed instead on her breathing.
***
Tarsi whistled to herself as she walked briskly down the corridor
towards Ambassador T’Las’s quarters. The Wakefield was
nothing short of amazing – she not seen even half of the facilities
it had to offer but what she had seen so far was a massive
step up from their previous commission. In fairness to the Trent,
their old Centaur-class light cruiser wasn’t exactly a piece
of junk, but it was a much older model than the Comet-class
Wakefield and had been built during an extended period of
warfare, where practicality and resource limitations necessitated a
more spartan design. The Wakefield, on the other hand, had
been built for quieter parts of the galaxy, and its recent refit had
been commissioned with the comfort and needs of the crew as a
priority. Her shower was glorious. She was also looking
forward to giving the holosuites a try, but that would have to wait
until they had all settled in and she could afford some downtime.
Reaching the Romulan ambassador’s room, she thumbed the intercom
button and then waited for the reply.
“Yes?” The admiral sounded sleepy; strange, thought
Tarsi, she doesn’t seem the sort to take naps.
“Commander Tarsi, Ambassador. Here to formally welcome you aboard
and introduce you to the senior crew.” There was an extended pause
before T’Las replied again.
“Okay. Give me five minutes.”
“Affirmative,” replied Tarsi, then closed the channel. Perhaps
the ambassador had been celebrating last night and it had finally
caught up with her. Tarsi decided to go over the remaining
applicants and recommendations while she waited – the major
positions had all been filled but there were still plenty of cadet
records to check and a few more xenology postings. Though the latter
at least were largely being left to Yao and Osennkca to sort out
between them, with Tarsi just needing to sign off on the candidates
they selected. She paused, realising something – she was an
Executive Officer on a ship with a crew of over three hundred, and
that meant she was eligible to have a personal assistant. That
would have saved a lot of time and effort if I’d realised that
before I started arranging all these cadet interviews, she
thought. For no apparent reason a Klingon cadet’s name caught her
eye; she brought up his profile. Kerlaa, a Klingon graduate from
Starfleet Academy; excellent grades, and a holoprogrammer who earned
himself quite the reputation at the Academy. That could come in
handy, she thought to herself as she made a note to invite him
over for an interview.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Tarsi stood straight with a start
as the Romulan ambassador emerged from her quarters; she hadn’t
even heard the door open.
“Not a problem, ma’am. Ready to meet the Wakefield’s
staff officers?” The lights were off in the ambassador’s room,
but Tarsi fancied she saw a couple of shadows moving in the darkness.
Well, that explains the midday nap!
“Raring to go, Commander.” She smiled at the Andorian and then
fell into step as the two turned to head off towards the turbolifts.
“You’ve served under Capt. Drake since his first command,
correct?” enquired T’Las, already knowing the answer but just
needing something to break the ice.
“Before that;
he was appointed XO on a vessel I was 2nd officer on, the
USS Atabeira.”
T’Las nodded,
“All those years serving under him. You must know him very well.”
“I’d like to
think I know him better than anyone else. Certainly, we have a very
strong understanding of each other.”
“That’s good. It’s important for a CO and their XO to have a
bond. Arguably the most important relationship on a ship." They
arrived at the lift, and Tarsi tapped the call button. "I spent
my entire career in command with the same XO, a fellow Romulan that
I’d known just about my whole adult life. I can’t count how many
times that bond, the instinctive understanding of each other, saved
our arses in a crisis.” Tarsi nodded and gave a grunt of agreement
but chose not to say anything. T'las looked askance at her and was
considering a gently probing follow-up when the turbolift arrived and
its doors opened to admit them. As the two women stepped into the
lift, T'Las decided to take a blunter approach and asked a question
with all the subtlety of a drunken Klingon. "So, tell me about
Taurus IV." She saw the Andorian stiffen, and almost felt the
emotional recoil it was so strong.
"Rescue mission to pick up some stranded scientists. Things ran
hot before we even landed, but Drake got us all out of there alive."
She stared straight ahead as she answered, gaze focussed firmly on
the lift doors. T'Las watched her carefully and decided not to press
any further. For now, at least.
"So, only a handful of the officers I'm about to meet are new to
you, as well?" Tarsi visibly relaxed as T'Las switched topics,
but still remained a little tense after that bolt form the blue.
"Yes. Cdr Skavrin served with Capt. Drake and I aboard the
Atabeira, while Cdr T'Met and Lt Cdr joined us not long after
our transfer to the Trent. Lieutenant Commanders Glihd,
Vukarno, and Isgur, and Lieutenant Nereda, are all new both to us and
the Wakefield."
The turbolift announced their arrival at the ship's bridge and the
doors opened to reveal the Wakefield’s staff officers ready
and waiting. Having been forewarned about the Romulan ambassador’s
dislike of formality by Tarsi, they were all standing to attention
but refrained from saluting.
“Ambassador T’Las, these are the staff officers of the USS
Wakefield,” announced Tarsi as she stepped out onto the
bridge. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Ambassador T’Las, Legate
of the Romulan Republic and Admiral of the Romulan Republican Force.
She has been seconded to the Wakefield as the head of its
diplomatic mission.”
“At ease, folks,” said T’Las in a relaxed tone of voice. “This
isn’t a formal inspection or anything, so you don’t need to stand
to attention.”
“This is Commander Skavrin – the Wakefield’s Head of
Engineering, and its Second Officer,” Tarsi introduced a squat
Tellarite, who gruffly cleared his throat and gave a nod of greeting
to the Admiral.
“I have read about the success of your diplomatic efforts on Edren
IV, Commander,” commented T’Las, “though I could not find any
direct transcripts of what you actually said to convince both the
Gorn and Federation expedition leaders to agree.”
“No loss, Ambassador, it was all very dry diplomatic talk anyway,”
replied the Tellarite, looking both sheepish and relieved at the same
time.
“’Pull your fat heads out of your even fatter arses and realise
this is a deal that benefits all, and harms none’ was one of my
favourite quotes from your captain.” The Romulan grinned.
Skavrin’s cheek flushed a little but a smile spread across his
face, “Like I said, very dry diplomatic talk, Ambassador.” T’Las
laughed before moving on to the next officer.
“Our Chief Medical Officer and Third Officer aboard the Wakefield,
Commander T’Met,” continued Tarsi, doing her best to keep a
straight face and introducing a long-haired Vulcan woman.
The Vulcan gave a short bow, “An honour to meet you, Ambassador.”
“Likewise, Commander. I imagine the Wakefield is a far cry
from Deep Space K-13.”
“Considerably less parasites, Ambassador,” replied T’met,
smiling cordially. The next officer in the line was a pale
violet-skinned Bolian woman who looked like – and gave the general
impression – that she could and would lift T’Las over her head if
challenged to.
“This is Lieutenant Commander Gorret Glihd, my replacement as Chief
Tactical Officer,” said Tarsi.
“As well as being a former chief conn, and a gunnery officer, I’m
given to understand that you are proficient in no less than three
distinct martial art forms?” asked T’Las; the Bolian nodded
stiffly in reply. “You know an impressive number of ways of
hurting people, Lieutenant Commander,” remarked T’Las, to which
Glihd smiled with pride. The Orion standing next to her looked like
he should be off hunting game across the savannahs of 19th
century Earth, with his immaculately waxed moustache and beard.
“Lieutenant Commander Vukarno, Chief Security Officer,” Tarsi
announced.
“Ma’am,” said Vukarno, already standing firmly to attention but
stiffening up further as the Romulan approached him.
“Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Commander. I understand you
speak Rihannsu?”
“Khiilalev, ihhai,” confirmed the security officer.
“Rhanne lokhos lohia, ihhai.”
“Emael fvakh, Enarrain,” replied T’Las, a smile on her
face. Vukarno nodded as the Ambassador continued down the line,
where Tarsi introduced her to a young Reman woman.
“Lieutenant Commander Ekish, Chief Operations Officer. Lt. Ekish
was one of the Academy’s youngest graduates. Like Dr T’Met, she
was also assigned to DS K-13.”
“From where I was rescued by Capt. Drake and Cdr Tarsi!”
exclaimed Ekish. “In more ways than one, actually. See, we had an
infestation of neural parasites and T’Met, that is, Dr T’Met, or
‘Commander’ T’Met, I suppose, helped guide the Captain to
engineering after they rescued her from-,”
“I’m sure the Admiral has read the report, Lieutenant,”
interrupted Tarsi.
“Right, yes, sorry!” said Ekish, somewhat breathlessly. “Honour
to meet you, Admiral – oh, er, Ambassador!” She reached
her hand out to shake the Romulan’s, then seemed to realise she was
breaching protocol and turned the gesture into an awkward salute.
T’Las responded by lightly patting her on the shoulder.
“I have read the report, and between that and the rest of your
career record I can see why you’re already Head of Operations on
such a reputable ship.” Lt. Ekish grinned broadly and seemed about
to speak again before being silenced by a look from her superior.
“Lieutenant Commander Yao,” said Tarsi very firmly, “Chief
Science Officer.”
“Winner of not one, but two Cochrane Medals of Excellence, I
understand. Well done, Lieutenant Commander.” Yao smiled
graciously at T’Las’s praise and gave a small bow. The officer
next to him was a tall, lean Saurian, whose eyes darted around the
room as if he were tracking the progress of a particularly energetic
fly.
“Lieutenant Commander Osennkca, who will be the chief officer of
our newly-established Xenology Lab,” said Tarsi.
“Oh, Ambassador, hello!” blurted the Saurian, giving a toothless
smile as his focus was drawn to the ambassador.
“Back at you, Lieutenant Commander. I am given to understand that
you know more about Gorn mating rituals than most Gorn do.”
“Oh yes, quite possibly!” he nodded eagerly. “If it’s an
area of interest to you, please to feel free to collar me about it
anytime!”
“I shall bear that in mind, Mr Osennkca,” T’Las replied
diplomatically.
“Lieutenant Commander Isgur, Ship’s Counsellor,” continued
Tarsi, as they reached the penultimate officer in the line-up.
“My sympathies, Lieutenant Commander, I suspect you are going to be
very, very busy on this ship.” The Betazoid laughed warmly.
“Oh, I know, Ambassador, but I don’t mind. In fact, I’m
counting on it.”
“Oh?”
“The Lieutenant Commander is undertaking a thesis for her second
doctorate,” answered Tarsi. Isgur smiled as she gave a small nod.
“Interspecies relations and the effect on the psyche,” she added.
“I see,” said T’Las, smiling. “Well, be sure to send me a
copy when it’s done. Between that and our resident author’s
work-in-progress, I look forward to having a comprehensive list of
which species never to have sex with.” The three women shared a
laugh before Tarsi introduced the Ambassador to the final officer on
the bridge.
“And this is Lieutenant Nereda, our Chief Intelligence Officer.”
“Ah yes, Lt Nereda. How is the Gamma Quadrant at the moment?”
T’Las asked, referring to Nereda’s official transfer.
“I’m currently enjoying an unhindered view of the Chamra Vortex,
Ambassador. It’s quite breath-taking.”
“So, I hear!” T’Las smiled broadly and then took a couple of
steps back as Tarsi prepared to address the assembled officers.
“To avoid any confusion, for the purpose of this mission Ambassador
T’Las is just that – an ambassador. She does not hold any
military rank within the Federation and is a foreign dignitary aboard
our ship as part of a joint diplomatic effort. That means that while
you do not have to salute her, you also do not get to order her
around and must treat her with the respect that a high-ranking member
of an allied power deserves. Remember that without Ambassador
T’Las’s efforts, the Romulan Republic might still be just a
handful of rebels and idealists, and not the respected entity that it
is.”
“It also means that you can buy me drinks without it being
considered a bribe, and that you can fraternise with me as much as
you like,” added the Romulan, with a wink. “Oh, and for the
record I prefer Andorian ale to Romulan.” There was a murmur of
gentle laughter from the officers before her. “Joking aside,
however, it is an honour to meet such a fine, diverse crew, and I
look forward to working with you to help bring the United Federation
of Planets and the Romulan Republic – and, indeed, everyone else in
the Alpha and Beta Quadrants – closer together. We have a real
chance to make lasting change in the galaxy, and I am confident that
you are the officers for the job.” Every one of the staff officers
stood a little straighter at her words. “Jolan tru,
everyone,” said T’Las as she saluted the gathered officers. They
replied in kind, and T’Las smiled before turning and leaving the
bridge.
***
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