This, of course, is the story I
composed to replace the ill-fated "Draconian Measures." Geri Behrens
and I simply didn't mesh well in our collaborative effort; and so, I removed
the aforementioned tale from established
At first, I'd
planned to use a great deal of the material I'd written for "DM"
here. As I continued to work on this project, though, I found myself forced to
excise more and more of the older stuff to preserve this story's integrity.
It's just as well, I suppose; people will much prefer an essentially new
narrative vis-à-vis one in which they're constantly saying,
"I read this, didn't I?"
Geri, of her
own accord, went back to play with her original manuscript; and that left me
with thousands of words which needed to be discarded out of hand, left to lie
unread within the pages of "Draconian Measures" or inserted
seamlessly into the new work.
Ironically enough, after all that
effort to integrate, "Tin Soldier" is very much a different story: In
a work that tops out at 15,400 words, there are perhaps 500-750 remaining from
"DM", and I may cut them as opportunity affords.
So much for a
melding, eh?
[Note: If any of you can identify which lines from this story
are a salute to Star Trek: The Original Series, you'll receive a
mention in the next newsletter, and the unending admiration of your
peers—either that, or they'll warn you about watching too much TV.]
"Tin
Soldier"
by Joseph Manno
"Brace
for impact!" she commanded.
Whiteness
filled her vision, and the floor rushed towards her in what proved to be a most
unpleasant fashion.
After a
time—she was uncertain just how long—she staggered to her feet.
"Damage assessment!"
A
disembodied voice answered her from the artificial twilight of the shattered
bridge.
"All
forms of propulsion are offline. The main computer is not responding to
commands and seems to be offline. Weapons are—"
"I
know—offline," she snarled, cutting off the litany. "Just tell
me what is working."
A sound
like the hybrid of a frustrated grumble and a tolerant sigh reached her,
followed by a slowly enunciated, "Life support is functioning, minimally."
Forcing
herself to remain calm, she took a pair of deep breaths, and asked, "What
of our support craft?"
"Shattered
in their berths," was the almost disbelieving reply. "The bays are
full of the dead and dying."
"Speculate
restoration time," she stated firmly.
"All
systems I have mentioned are damaged far beyond our ability to
repair."
She thought
about just how far they were from any help, and closed her eyes.
"Then
the 'dead and dying' are better off than we."
***
"Captain,
I have new orders for you."
Luciano
Mantovanni raised an eyebrow at the speaker—Rear Admiral Edward Jellico—and
replied, "I'll assume from your tone that those orders are other than,
'Your vessel's seen nothing but nonstop action for 11 months, and Starfleet
Command is well aware that your crew desperately requires rest.'"
Jellico's
expression darkened slightly, and he snapped, "I'm not sure I like your
attitude, Captain. I warn you, I’m not as tolerant of borderline
insubordination as Admiral Pierce is."
"Well,
sir, Admiral Pierce has wisdom beyond his years," Mantovanni
replied drolly.
If one
examined it in a certain way, it was a loaded statement: Jellico could take it
at face value—that is, an observation about Pierce—or could choose to interpret
it in a variety of subtler ways.
None of
them were particularly complimentary.
If one were looking to insult a superior, that
would certainly be the way to do it.
Jellico
decided to overlook it.
"At
any rate, Captain," he announced, "you're
instructed to divert the
"Or all
too familiar," Mantovanni muttered.
"Exactly."
After a moment, he leaned forward in his chair, and added, "We're going
to try and get your people some R&R directly after this, Captain."
"Thank
you, Admiral. They need it."
The older man
snapped, "Considering your attitude, so do you. Jellico
out."
As the
transmission faded from his ready room viewer,
In either
case, one finds out soon enough.
***
M'Raav
Hatshepsut trembled.
Her sleep
had been restless of late; once again, she'd awakened with a sense that she'd
known something, just a moment before—a revelation of vital importance
that had been imparted to her while in that twilight realm between dream and
reality.
Each time
she tried to focus, though, it slipped away.
It had just
happened again.
Now, she
lay in bed, curled into a kittenish ball—not precisely afraid, but
frustrated, and strangely saddened, as one would be with the memory of a
distant pain.
Hatshepsut
found herself torn between the desire to remember, and the hope she wouldn't.
Sleep came
again with the conflict unresolved.
"The
time is 0730 hours."
No…!
With a yowl
of frustration, Hatshepsut sprang from her bed and into the sonic shower. She
was probably the only person on board who could do so literally—without
touching the floor in between the two.
My shift began
an hour ago!
Usually,
the Felisian preferred a rather more… lackadaisical pace for her morning
ablutions. She'd slept right through that possibility—along with casual
and hurried—and was now engaged in what could only be described as frenetic.
Unfortunately,
no matter how fast she was now, she'd still be a little more than fashionably
late for her bridge watch.
The
turbolift network was busy, and she twitched with feline impatience while the
car took what seemed to be its own sweet time. For a moment, Hatshepsut toyed
with the idea of using the Jeffries tubes—she'd done it once while at Starfleet
Academy, to reach the final of her Comparative Xeno-Psychology
class on time—but could just imagine barreling into Mav and having to explain
why she was in his repair access tunnels.
I'm not in the mood for that, she growled silently,
and decided to wait.
On the
bridge, she received a bit of a break: Erika, not the captain, was in the
center seat.
As
Hatshepsut padded gingerly over to her own chair, Benteen
smiled slightly, but carefully kept her gaze on the viewscreen's
starfield.
"You
look terrible,"
It was
ironic; as a counselor, she'd learned to read not only speech and tone, but
expressions, body language, emotional projections and even scent in her quest
to help people resolve their personal difficulties.
It was
especially disconcerting to Hatshepsut she could be in such a state that others
were easily doing the same to her.
Then again,
having Erika in command gave her a moment to compose herself, and let her avoid
explaining to Mantovanni why she'd been…
"Oh,
and the captain wanted to see you, and I quote, '…when she decides to grace us
with her magnificence.'"
This time,
Hatshepsut didn't even try to disguise the growl.
Resigned to
her fate, she slunk towards the ready room door.
Obviously
her emotional state was apparent to him, as well; he'd paused in the
midst of his log to regard her. When it seemed she'd speak, though, he motioned
for momentary restraint, and then tapped the Record button.
"…and
while I can appreciate the necessity of field-testing the new Chimaera-class fighters Liberty was recently
issued, I also find it ironic that this step is being completed only now—weeks after
the conclusion of our war with the Dominion.
"Two
of my officers, Ensign Parihn and Lieutenant Sito—along
with Arkin Jora, our guest
from the Argus —are currently engaged in this important work. I'd
commend them for their diligence, and eagerness to take on the assignment… if I
didn't know that two weeks' worth of joyriding equated to complimentary leave
for all three."
After he'd
finished, Mantovanni glanced at her again.
"Good
morning, Counselor."
"Erika
relayed that you wished to see me, Captain," she answered quietly.
"I'm sorry I was late for my shift, but…" Her voice trailed off;
Hatshepsut realized an arched brow was the only indication he'd even heard her.
"Commander
Benteen tells me you were late yesterday, as well. I
like to think I’m fairly understanding…"
"Sir,
I…" she began; but with a wave, he silenced her.
"…however,"
he continued, "I do have a starship to command, and you're an integral
part of making certain I do that successfully."
It was only
then that his expression softened slightly.
"Are
you prepared to tell me what's bothering you?"
She sighed.
He wasn't angry, merely concerned; it just didn't come across as very
sympathetic, considering his distant manner. Fortunately she was one of the few
who knew the depth of feeling that lay behind that unassailable veneer.
Ah, well, she thought. There's something to be said for impassivity...
whether seeming, or real.
"My
people do not dream often," she began, "but, when we do, we recall
them, in intimate detail… dreams are of tremendous importance to us…
invariably they are messages from the Powers That Be, from the Self… or, on
occasion, even a cry for aid.
"Always,
though, they have a purpose."
Mantovanni
leaned back in the chair, his dark eyes thoughtful. "So you've been
dreaming, and not remembering them?"
"Every
time I sleep…" She hesitated.
"…for
the past five days."
"You
obviously haven't seen Matsuoka or McDonald about it." It wasn't a
question.
A rumble of
dismay began in her throat, and she countered, "I'd intended to speak to
one of them, but I've been busy with appointments and crew evaluations..."
"…and,
of course, you’re an exception
to all the rules of counseling
and psychiatric care, because you're a counselor," he added drolly.
"You're dismissed, Commander…
"…and
I don't think you need me to tell you where your next stop should be."
***
Jane
McDonald wasn't much for mysticism.
She was a
physician cut from the mold of a researcher; that is, she adhered to the idea that
there was nothing beyond the limits of science. Study hard enough, long enough,
with the proper tools and in the right places, and
you'll invariably learn the answer.
When
Hatshepsut had come into Sickbay with stories of dreams just beyond her ken, Jane'd had a hard time not just recommending a mild
sedative… or a counseling session of the counselor's own.
The sheer
intensity of the Felisian's expression, though, had
led her to believe that such a diagnosis would not go over well.
Psychiatrist,
heal thyself, she thought.
Nevertheless,
she'd set to work doggedly, ordering a battery of tests, evaluations and
analyses designed to examine Hatshepsut as thoroughly as Federation science
could manage.
The
Felisian purred as she slept: McDonald had finally chosen to use a somnolent
inducer—not only to keep her patient from twitching constantly, but so that she
could have some blessed silence, as well.
Captain
Mantovanni entered, and approached the biobed at which she was conducting her
examination. His expression was expectant, but he said nothing.
She
suppressed a frown. He’s no doubt waiting
for me to justify calling his august personage from the bridge. I should have
simply gotten Shiro to come down here and deal with
him.
She hadn’t,
though. Shiro Matsuoka,
McDonald
observed with a wry chuckle, "Since it's rude to talk about someone right
in front of them…", turned back to her patient,
and discharged the contents of a hypospray into her
neck.
Instantly,
Hatshepsut was alert. She glanced anxiously back and forth to each of them,
waiting for some diagnosis. The doctor crooked her finger at both, and led them
into Matsuoka's office.
"There's
nothing medical wrong with her," McDonald announced, after they
were behind closed doors.
"That's
not possible," the Felisian asserted determinedly. In her mind, it seemed,
the situation had gone from vaguely disturbing to almost traumatic. "Why
can't I remember my dreams?"
"At
this moment, I honestly don't know what to tell you. It's certainly not
anything physical; I'd stake my reputation on it."
"What
did Shiro have to say?" Mantovanni inquired.
McDonald
answered, "I haven't disturbed him yet—and don't plan on doing so."
The captain
finally showed a bit of emotion.
Irritation.
In a tone
that brooked no defiance, he told her, "Change your plans. Get him
up here."
"I'm
perfectly capable of diagnosing a condition, Captain," McDonald responded
indignantly. "When in my medical judgment Dr. Matsuoka is needed,
I'll summon him—and not before."
"Commander
Hatshepsut, would you please excuse us for a moment?" Mantovanni's tone
had become dangerously even.
"I
don't see why I should; I'm the one who's being discussed here!"
she growled resentfully.
The captain
had never been one for being challenged, and this was no exception.
"Hatshepsut,"
he said quietly, "I apologize. I allowed you to labor under the
misconception that my last interrogative was literally a request. Allow
me to rephrase."
His voice
cracked with authority. "Commander,
step outside."
Growling
under her breath, Hatshepsut slunk from the room.
Despite the
exchange she knew was coming, Jane shook her head and grinned—recognizing that
he’d headed off what could have become a feline tantrum with all the skill of a
lion tamer.
He turned
back towards her… and the Red Alert klaxon sounded.
Instantly,
his demeanor changed, from brewing tempest to businesslike cold front.
He stated
simply, "I need her on the bridge."
"She's
fine," McDonald answered. "Take her."
His last
glance as the two officers left let her know that their discussion had been
postponed…
…but certainly
not avoided.
***
Mantovanni
entered the bridge, noting the presence of Ensign T'Vaar at the conn in Parihn's place. While the
Vulcan didn't possess the prodigious piloting skills the Orion did, she was as
cool under fire as any officer he'd ever known; he adjusted his thinking to
maximally utilize her unique gifts, assuming it became necessary.
"Sensors
detected another vessel mere moments ago, sir. We altered course to intercept,
and I thought it prudent to assume a full defensive posture—considering what
we've already seen." Benteen rose, relinquished
the center seat and displaced Lieutenant Varenn at
ops.
"Tactical
analysis," the captain instructed, even as he took back his chair.
"Sensors
read her as a near derelict, sir," offered Aldus. "An examination of
the Federation ship recognition database indicates that the vessel's
configuration matches that of a Chisaari fast
cruiser, designated by Starfleet Tactical Hippolyta-class."
"'Chisaari,'" the captain echoed. "I'm not familiar
with that species."
"Roman
ships have encountered them," Aldus declared rather emphatically.
"They're an infuriatingly arrogant people, utterly lacking in common
courtesy or regard."
Mantovanni
absorbed that with equanimity. "Your opinion is noted, Lieutenant. Counselor?"
Despite her
emotional upset, she was, as always, prepared.
"They've
been encountered by a Federation starship on only one occasion before: The Oberth-class survey ship USS Cartier
exchanged hails and pleasantries with a vessel similar in class to this one four
years ago. Little is known about them; however, a number of facts and
speculations are contained within the database. They're technologically
advanced, having acquired faster-than-light capability a decade ago—and are
progressing rapidly."
"When
one takes into consideration that they launched their first warp capable craft
only 10.78 solar years ago," T'Vaar observed, scanning the available data
herself, "rapidly could be considered something of an
understatement. The vessel before us, though heavily damaged, shows a variety
of impressively destructive weapons systems, including x-ray lasers, merculite rockets and particle beam cannons. If my
examination of their engines is accurate—the damage, after all, is quite
extensive—their vessel could have, with difficulty, exceeded warp
three-point-eight."
"From sublight to warp four in less than eleven years," Benteen marveled. "They must be pretty sharp."
Hatshepsut
added a final note.
"Captain
Deirdre Madelynne Vaughn of the Cartier noted
a certain 'prevalent attitude' in their commanding officer's comments that led
her to believe their society is matriarchal." At that, she and the captain
exchanged significant glances.
Aldus'
board beeped.
"We're
being hailed, sir."
"Visual."
Mantovanni stood respectfully, as the face of a forbiddingly attractive female,
vaguely oriental in appearance—except for the horns, that is, and the eyes that
seemed to lack any pupils—glared at him.
"I'm
Luciano Manto…" he began.
"Where
is your mistress, boy?" she
demanded angrily. "I haven't time to trifle with a male, no matter how
fetching he is. This is too important."
Mantovanni
raised a brow in response.
"Now!" she roared.
Her
captain's reaction startled them all. He glanced at ops, and murmured
sarcastically, below the pickup's audial range,
"'Mistress Benteen', perhaps you should attend
to this matter. Evidently it's beyond me."
Erika's
expression hovered in that hinterland between appalled and amused; but she
stood and addressed the expectant woman on the viewscreen.
"I'm
Commander Erika Benteen, chief of operations for the
USS Liberty; how may we be of assistance?" she asked.
"You
will take us aboard your vessel and off this useless piece of flotsam, and transport us without delay to the nearest Chisaari outpost, in the Vedara
star system."
She
motioned behind her to a pair of bulky containers, each holding two
compartments. All but one of the four modules contained a figure swathed in a
cryogenic mist.
"In
addition, I require aid in reviving my companions."
Benteen nodded. "Stand by for
transport." As an afterthought, she added, "We didn't get your name,
or that of your ship."
"That
is correct," came
the reply… and the screen went dark.
"Ah ha. Counselor,
please accompany me to transporter room one, where we'll receive our animate
guest." She then tapped her comm badge.
"Chief
Mav, report to cargo bay two and take charge of the stasis modules we're
bringing aboard."
"Uh
huh," came the grunted response.
As
Hatshepsut and she headed for the turbolift, Benteen
glanced back at her still bemused captain.
"If we
need assistance, sir, we'll have someone 'fetch' you."
Mantovanni
didn't seem impressed with her cleverness.
"Very
amusing, Commander," he replied drolly. "You must have been a huge
hit at the prison talent show."
Erika,
wisely, cut her losses and retreated into the lift.
"Do
you think he's angry?" she inquired as the doors closed behind her.
"Not
in the least; he's particularly fond of a good barb," Hatshepsut trilled
easily. "However, as you well know, the exchanges can become quite… sharp."
Benteen grinned.
"Oh,
you mean the prison comment? I didn't take that too seriously; after all, if
the man who got me out can't make a reference to it, I'm even touchier that you
thought, aren't I?"
Hatshepsut
fixed her with an unwavering feline gaze; her counterpart smiled even more
broadly as the car let them off near their destination.
Despite Mav's chronic irritability, he was both clever and
efficient. Petty Officer 2nd Class Corinne Phillips was manning the
transporter console, on the chance their guests might be offended by a male
operator.
Of course,
the cranky Tellarite would never consciously admit
that was the reason. He'd merely inform you he'd referred to the convoluted
duty roster he kept in his head; or, more likely, tell you to "Stop
thinking so much. Officers aren't built for it."
Nevertheless,
it was Phillips who nodded to them when they entered.
"Bring
her aboard, Corinne," Benteen instructed.
The woman who
appeared stepped down from the platform as if descending from a throne. She was
tall—almost six feet—with an athletic cut to her figure; and wore a uniform
that seemed to be little more than a golden metallic skin, which conformed most
remarkably to the contours of her body.
She
announced, rather peremptorily, "Where is your captain? I require her
presence."
Erika and
M'Raav exchanged quick glances; then the former replied, "If you'll come
with me, I'll escort you to our commanding officer." Before moving, she
gestured to her left. "This is Commander Hatshepsut, our ship's
counselor."
The
newcomer examined the Felisian like she was a spot on the carpet.
"That
is sentient?"
The
feline's ears flattened in dismay at the comment, but she refrained from giving
the reply which immediately came to mind—a rather enthusiastically hostile
hiss.
Sensing
impending trouble, Benteen decided to head it off
while she could.
"Counselor, I'm sure your
schedule is quite busy. You're dismissed."
Hatshepsut
gave a startled noise from the back of her throat, but recovered nicely, and
beat as hasty a retreat as Erika could have wanted.
"If
you'll come with me…" Benteen left an opening
for the woman to provide her name.
It was left
unfilled. Instead, she simply strode past into the corridor.
They walked
side-by-side towards the turbolift; the exotic looking alien examined
everything, including her guide, in excruciating detail as they walked.
"Where
are we going?" she asked suddenly.
"To
meet with the captain, as you requested," Benteen
answered cautiously.
Abruptly,
the woman paused just before reaching the lift and turned to face her.
"As a
matter of fact, it would be best to first revive my companions." She then
decreed, "Take me to where they're being kept… immediately."
Erika shook
her head.
"With
all due respect, I believe that Captain Mantovanni would want us…"
Benteen watched herself from a
distance as the woman frowned, and tilted her head just… so…
"…would
want us… to make certain of their safety. Of course… that's right,"
she added hesitantly, as if satisfying herself to the action's logic.
"Benteen to McDonald. Meet me in cargo bay two immediately, with cryogenic revival
equipment."
"Acknowledged."
"I'll
take you there right now, Merelyth," she added,
and entered the turbolift followed by the smiling woman.
It was
funny; Erika didn't recall her having provided a name; yet, somehow, there it
was.
Oh, well.
She must
have just missed something.
***
Granted, Hatshepsut wasn't happy
she couldn't seem to remember her dreams.
However,
given a choice between that and stepping off the turbolift into a waking
nightmare, she would definitely have chosen the former.
Her fur
stood on end, and a tremor of terror began to build in the back of her throat:
For a wild
moment, she thought she'd been swallowed.
M'Raav
nearly descended into hysterical yowling.
The walls
reached for our heroine, she thought, crazily, even
as the sides of the suddenly narrowing hallway closed in.
She turned
at last to flee, took a step… and found herself back in the turbolift.
The whole
incident had taken no more than five seconds. Miraculously, the Felisian had
managed to stop shaking by the time the car reached its destination.
As the
doors opened, she cringed in anticipation of another horrific landscape.
Fortunately,
it was no more frightening than
She
steadied herself and stepped out.
As she
approached, Hatshepsut saw Mantovanni examining her—obviously she wasn't as
composed as she'd thought.
"Where
are Commander Benteen and our guest?" he asked.
That
finally brought her back to the here and now.
"They
should have been up here fifteen minutes ago. I thought she was on her
way," the Felisian answered, perplexed. "Perhaps a tour of the
ship…?"
The captain
shook his head in disapproval.
"Computer,"
he demanded curtly, "Locate Commander Benteen."
Promptly,
it answered, "Commander Benteen is in cargo
bay two."
***
"What
are you doing?"
He'd
surprised them, Mav realized; and they each responded very differently.
Benteen shook her head, as if the
question was somehow difficult, or she was attempting to reacquaint herself
with the ground after an amusement park ride. When she focused on him, she
still seemed a little disoriented.
McDonald,
by contrast, shot him a distracted, annoyed glance, then
continued tinkering with the stasis devices he'd just taken great pains to
secure.
The third
woman's reaction was the most interesting of all.
She
smothered a venomous glare—not before he could see it, though—and then smiled
engagingly. Then she took a step forward, interposing herself almost casually
between him and the machine the doctor had just finished adjusting.
Like an
angry bull, Mav pawed the cargo bay floor with a hoof. This female had just challenged
him, with both her expression and her stance. For a moment, he simply
considered calling security—Benteen had seemed
odd, after all—but dismissed it: McDonald seemed her usual disagreeable self;
in addition, he was sick of having his observations dismissed as "natural Tellarite paranoia" by Aldus.
Putting his
suspicions aside, he approached the woman with his usual myopic single-mindedness.
At the very least, he would see what was going on with that machine…
***
As
Mantovanni was about to speak, the intercom did so first.
"McDonald to bridge."
"Go
ahead, Doctor," he responded distractedly; most of his concern, and a bit
of his ire, was still focused on Hatshepsut.
"Our
guests would like to see you in sickbay, if you wouldn't mind."
Now she had his attention.
The
captain, obviously somewhat startled, repeated, "'Our guests,'
Doctor? Just how many of them are requesting my presence? Insofar as I knew,
only one of them is supposed to be conscious."
"Well,
you'll be pleased to know the reanimation of each was successful, sir; their
commander seems eager to make your acquaintance."
A muffled
curse in Latin from Aldus let Mantovanni know he wasn't the only one aggravated
at the turn of events.
There was
nothing else to be done.
He stood,
and grimly answered, "I'll be along directly."
***
Benteen met the captain in the
corridor just outside sickbay; she nodded as he approached, and queried,
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yes,"
Mantovanni confirmed. Curious as to her motivation, he mentioned, "I don't
recall ordering you to revive those Chisaari still in
their cryogenic canisters."
"You
didn't?" she blinked, then started; as if tapped
on the shoulder from behind. "Of-… of course you
didn't, sir. I took it upon myself after checking the technology used in
their construction; frankly, it wasn't what I'd consider state-of-the-art. Dr.
McDonald agreed with me."
"What
about Mav? I thought you had him down there taking care of them. His opinion on
such things is fairly reliable, Commander."
She
frowned.
"He
was, and it is, but Jane says he won't be doing anything like that until he
recovers."
Mantovanni
raised a brow. "Recovers?"
"Yes,"
Benteen replied. "Evidently one of our logistics
personnel didn't stack a number of storage crates as snugly as they could have, and…"
The captain
strode past her and into sickbay.
He noted
the four figures sitting in Matsuoka's office, but his concern for Mav outweighed
it and drew him to the biobed on which he lay—and over which Patrick Aiello now
hovered.
"He's
fine… or he will be in a few moments. Our Tellarite
chief's got a fairly severe concussion, a pair of cracked ribs, a broken tibia and
some pretty deep bone bruises. If he wasn't such a… sturdy guy,"
and he grinned, "it would have been a lot worse."
"I'd
like to talk to him, if possible," Mantovanni requested.
Aiello
shook his head.
"Sorry…
not for about 24 hours… he needs rest."
The captain
gazed down at Mav for a few seconds more, then nodded
in grudging acceptance of Aiello's decree.
"Thank
you, Doctor."
McDonald,
too, was waiting for him, along with their four guests.
Without
preamble, she rose and announced, "I'd like to present the representatives
of the Chisaari Matriarchate." She indicated
first the one to whom they'd spoken on
"This
is Merelyth, a Lady Warrior of the Chisaari Realm."
Again, the
woman examined Mantovanni with a mixture of disdain and interest; but gave no
other reaction.
Though all
of them were tall and athletic, the second was the smallest of the three; as a
matter of fact, she was the only one who didn't reach or exceed six feet in
height.
He knew
this only because she actually stood to greet him, and inclined her head
slightly as the doctor gave her name and title. She was dark-eyed and
pale-skinned. Unlike either of the others, her hair was a burnished gold, and
cropped close to her head in a manner than suggested someone who disliked
fussing with it. While she also possessed an aesthetically appealing physique,
it wasn't so… well developed as Merelyth's.
"Rhian, a Lady Scholar and
Warrior of the Chisaari Realm." Mantovanni watched McDonald with interest… she seemed to be
carefully delivering these titles, as if anxious to avoid a mistake.
Mantovanni
bowed slightly, returning the respect he'd been given. Merelyth,
who'd dismissed him earlier, glared angrily at the gesture given her comrade,
but not afforded to her.
"Lastly
in order of introduction, but first in honor and precedence," intoned
McDonald, "may I present Ajara, of the noble
line of Javan, Lady Commander of the Chisaari vessel Righteous."
This one
was obviously older, though one couldn't precisely determine that from either
her face or form. Her eyes were a pale blue, and her hair a lustrous white that
possessed hints of silver when the light touched it just so. If her figure was
perhaps slightly less muscular than Merelyth's,
and somewhat more voluptuous than Rhian's, the
differences weren't very substantial.
All three
were extraordinary specimens of femininity.
Though she
made no movement of greeting, Ajara did not, as had
her subordinate Merelyth, express any disrespect.
Instead, she simply regarded him in silence.
He bowed to
her, as well.
Watchful
waiting isn't precisely an insult, he
thought wryly.
The fourth
figure—a male—stood silently in the corner. He wore nondescript gray coveralls
and an expression that would have been generously labeled "dull".
McDonald, significantly, did not introduce him.
"Ladies,
this is Captain Luciano Cicero Mantovanni, representing the United Federation
of Planets and commanding the Sovereign-class starship USS Liberty."
The captain
noted McDonald's choice of words, and smiled inwardly. She didn't want to see her
side slighted either.
"Lady
Commander, welcome aboard the
Merelyth answered.
She
grudgingly began, "On behalf of the Chisaari
Matriarchate, we extend our…", and the next word was positively dragged
from her, "…gratitude… to the United Federation of Planets for
"We're
only too pleased to be of aid," Mantovanni answered graciously. "Are
there any special arrangements you require while staying with us?"
"We
shall not be staying long," Merelyth
avowed. "We require that you transport us immediately to the
nearest Chisaari outpost."
"I'll
be happy to accommodate you, ladies, as soon as
Merelyth's
expression, if possible, grew even haughtier.
"That
was not a request, Captain," she declared with an easy assurance.
"You will alter course now. Ajara desires
it, and so you will comply."
Mantovanni
was already growing progressively more irritated with Merelyth's
arrogant tone and unreasonable demands, but his diplomatic duty overrode his
desperate desire, and so he answered with restraint.
"Unfortunately,
the ship disappearances hereabouts require our continued investigation. We were
hoping you could provide vitally needed information on the situation. For
example, what happened to your ship?"
"That
is neither your business nor your concern. Have you rigged her for
towing?"
"Actually,
we'll have to leave her here until we conclude our business in this sector. I
don't want to haul her around or expose her to further assault in the event we
encounter whatever's responsible for the ship disappearances in this
area."
It was in
precisely that moment the captain's understanding of the last hour's events
became clear.
In the
outer corridors of his mind, he heard a voice command, I weary of your
arrogance, male. You will rig our ship for towing, and alter course to leave
this sector… immediately.
It was
patently obvious that Merelyth was the source of the
telepathic imperative.
The decree
surged forward, crashed against his shields… and was repelled.
"If
there's nothing further," the captain continued, "we'll assign
quarters to you. Our stay in the sector might be as long as a few weeks, and
for that, I apologize. Certainly, though, warriors can understand the
demands of duty."
When he had
first begun to reply, Merelyth had grinned broadly,
assuming her efforts had been successful. After a moment, though, her
expression had changed swiftly from astonished to indignant.
"If
you'll excuse me, ladies…"
Wait!
You will carry out my instructions! she hurled more intently at him.
To her
furious dismay, Mantovanni never broke stride as he left the sickbay.
In the
hallway outside, one horrible thought skittered through the captain's mind.
Jesus, Mary
and Joseph, what the hell have I brought aboard
my ship?
Mantovanni
kept that realization carefully shuttered away, however.
He now knew
he had reason.
***
"Telepathic coercion? Are you sure?"
Erika
Benteen's tone was equal parts disbelieving and appalled as she listened to
Captain Mantovanni.
"Yes,
Commander," he replied, smiling humorlessly, "pretty sure."
He'd
assembled the senior staff in the observation lounge immediately after the incident
in sickbay. When he told them what had occurred, both with him and Commander Benteen, they seemed stunned.
"I'm
not certain what precisely we can do," mused Benteen;
she looked understandably pale at the revelation that many of her recent
actions were not truly her own. "It's not as if there's verifiable
empirical evidence of such… tampering."
"Confining
them might be an option," asserted Aldus. "Perhaps limiting their
access to the ship and its personnel might prevent any unwanted security leaks."
"I
have a better idea," added the marine, Lieutenant Steele.
The others
had realized the gravity of the situation when he'd joined them: The captain
seldom invited the squad leader to such gatherings; both preferred to let the
two service branches keep their distance. Thus, they gave him their
particularly undivided attention.
"We
could put them all back into stasis," he declared, "deliver
them to their world and allow the Chisaari government
to thaw them out."
"That,
unfortunately, constitutes aggravated assault, Lieutenant Steele," Ensign
T'Vaar observed pointedly.
Steele
snorted derisively.
"And
what that bitch did to Benteen—and probably to Mav
too—doesn't?"
Mantovanni
interrupted them at that point.
"Jane,
have you examined them?"
McDonald
frowned.
"No…
they've refused any sort of medical tests, now that they're out of
stasis and can do so. Perhaps they're attempting to minimize what we can learn
about them.
"Dr.
Matsuoka is observing them from Bio-Research Lab One, though, and using the
internal sensors to make a few inquiries of his own." She smirked.
"For some strange reason, they didn't seem to particularly like
him—or any of the male staff. Considering the attitude, we all
thought it best if he conducted scans and research from a distance."
The captain
nodded.
"We're
faced with a difficult situation," he told them. "The Federation,
thus far in its history, has been extremely fortunate in its encounters with psionically gifted races. The Earth/Vulcan contact did much
to both enlighten and assure humanity on the subject; it certainly helped that
modern Vulcans are rigidly moral in the
exercise of their powers.
"Unfortunately,
the Chisaari are both capable of psionic manipulation, and inclined towards it. When
this is coupled with their inherent arrogance and contempt for the male gender,
it becomes obvious we've got a real problem on our hands. Merelyth
thought nothing of attempting to influence me—and now, because we didn't know
what to expect, we've got four of them with which to deal, instead of just one.
"Perhaps
we should go to security alert until such time as they depart, sir,"
suggested Aldus.
Mantovanni
considered that for a moment.
"No.
For now, we'll simply keep our eyes and ears open, while guarding our thoughts
as much as we can.
"Erika,
you have the bridge. Marcus, get back to tactical and give me an intensive,
long-range sensor sweep. Tie in the lateral array; I want to know if we have any
kind of company. Let's not forget our primary mission in the face of this new
situation.
"Jane,
you and Steele examine the sensor logs from the cargo bay. I want to know
precisely what happened to Mav, and whether his condition is fully physical; I
don't think any of us are buying this 'the box just fell' theory. Show me
something.
"You
four are dismissed."
As they
filed out, Mantovanni nodded reassuringly to the shaken Erika Benteen—who smiled momentarily, then moved onto the bridge.
T'Vaar,
Hatshepsut and Irriantia remained.
"All
right," he announced grimly.
"Time for the meeting within the meeting."
***
"He resisted
me. Me! I didn't think such a thing was possible."
Ajara listened with middling
interest to Merelyth's tirade for a few moments more,
then silenced her with a glare.
"Enough.
The point is not that your will was thwarted, Merelyth,
but that these humans seem to have a power we've not before encountered. This
is precisely why our incursion protocols exist. You've revealed to them
our abilities, for no benefit. If I'd wished to act against the captain
in that moment, I'd have done so myself…"
Her power
thundered out from within her.
…and no
doubt I would not have failed.
Merelyth's lovely
features twisted in anger, but she mastered her temper and conceded, "I
acted out of turn. I ask pardon."
"Granted. Let us
speak of more important matters now."
"Agreed,"
added Rhian. "This ship seems quite impressive.
Look at this." She strolled over to the replicator, and commanded,
"Cold water in a crystal glass."
Agreeably,
the device provided both liquid and container seconds later.
"Impressive,"
allowed Merelyth. "However, we have both
transporters and computers, Scholar." She used the word with
an edge of contempt. "Perhaps you should focus on more profitable
opportunities, instead of playing with water."
"Perhaps
you should confine yourself to your areas of expertise, Warrior," Rhian coolly replied. "Oh, yes… I forgot. You're an
expert in all areas… that's why the human male ignored your
power like you were a squalling girl."
Enough!
The force
of Ajara's rebuke silenced them both immediately.
"You
two will explore the ship—separately. Learn what you can. Acquire what
information you deem might be useful to us. Take the male with you, Rhian… I'm sure you'll find a use for him."
"As
for me, I shall invite our stubborn captain for a discussion, and gain his
cooperation…"
She smiled
lazily.
"…by
whatever means are necessary."
***
"You
were right, sir… by tying in the lateral array and narrowing the focus of our
scans, we detected something odd at the extreme range of our sensors."
"'Something
odd' is a little technical, Erika." The captain came over to stand beside
her at the ops station. "How about dumbing it
down a little further… you know, for us males?"
She grinned
at him, and replied slowly, "O…K…"
He was
pleased she seemed to have recovered from whatever had been done to her.
"The
best description I can give is a subspace flux. It's intermittent, and at the
extreme range of our scans. Some of the resonance traces, however, are
identical to those we found on the debris scattered throughout this sector.
"I
think we may have found our culprit."
"Oh,
joy," he chuckled, just loudly enough for her to hear.
She smiled
again, and observed, "Can I help it if I'm just too efficient for
words, even after having my brains sucked out?"
Just then, a
voice in his mind called, Oh, Captain?… it's
time for our little "talk."
Now.
Something
in his expression must have changed, because Benteen
whispered, "Are you all right?"
"Yes,"
he told her. "Just fine. Move to
intercept, warp nine-point-five."
She checked
her board and then replied, "Time to intersection, seven hours, fifty-two
minutes."
"Good.
For now, take over here." He headed for the turbolift.
"I
have to see a woman about a ship… or something like that."
***
There were
more of them, and they were coming for him.
He was
uncertain what to do. He cast about with his senses again, searching… but
finding nothing.
He was
confused… the one he'd called to was approaching… but so were the angry ones,
the ones who'd hurt him.
He wanted
to run, but that meant more loneliness. He wanted to wait, but that meant more
pain.
He
whimpered in the darkness.
***
"Entering
the serpent's den alone, eh, Captain? How very brave
of you."
Despite the
fact that it was a perspective arrived at with but anecdotal evidence, Mantovanni
was very near to deciding he didn't like the Chisaari—at
all.
"So
you can talk, Lady Commander. Perhaps it would have been easier to
employ the comm panels and ask me down for a visit, rather than
summoning me in the manner you chose."
That occasioned
a smile.
"Ah,
yes... requesting things—and from a male, no less… what an interesting
concept. Courtesy, I believe your people call it."
Her gaze
grew flinty.
Remember
this, Captain. One asks when one hasn't the power
to command.
Rather than
continuing the fruitless exchange, Mantovanni announced, with only a hint of
sarcasm apparent, "Very well, then. You commanded I attend
you?"
"Indeed,"
she said, returning for a moment to speech. "I thought you and I might
settle whatever dispute we have privately."
It was a
brief interlude.
Suddenly,
she attacked in earnest.
He could
feel her circling the private places of his mind… this time, though, rather
than the simple frontal assault Merelyth had
attempted, he could feel Ajara searching for weak spots,
sniping at his mental defenses.
The stakes
of the game had just grown.
Again, the
Sicilian set himself to give no visible reaction to the assault. Perhaps she'd
decided to test him alone; of the personnel aboard who could defend
substantively from a sustained telepathic intrusion—Irriantia,
T'Vaar, a number of others—none had reported anything similar to what he was
experiencing.
A laudable
strategy, insofar as their understanding of us goes, he thought. Break the pack leader, and the rest slink away and
obey.
She
increased the intensity of her effort. Mantovanni could feel the pressure
mounting on the shields that protected his thoughts and preserved his will. Her
power was formidable, far greater than that of the brutish Merelyth.
She attacked with subtlety and strength.
"I
think you're going to find that things will be changing in your part of the
galaxy, now that we've arrived. I concede, with a certain degree of surprise,
that you yourself are an extraordinarily resistant man, Captain… most of
your people, from all accounts, are pathetically malleable. I don't
imagine extending the Chisaari Matriarchate will be too
difficult. I assume you take my meaning?"
He
surprised her, though. He seemed neither impressed nor angry—and despite her
more concerted effort, his thoughts still remained closed to her.
"I
understand clearly what you've implied… your people aren't exactly
subtle… evidently they haven't had to be, thus far. I thank you, though, for
taking your… requirements… directly to me. It was prudent of you."
Those
disturbing white eyes flashed. "Was that some sort of veiled threat,
Captain? Such is hardly necessary." Abruptly, the assault ceased.
"Come,"
she invited silkily. "Sit with me. We can discuss the matter like
reasonable beings… or, better yet, we can not discuss it." She lay
back on the couch and crooked her finger at him.
This time
the persuasion was far more indirect—not precisely an assault, to be sure, but
possessing its own type of compulsion.
Despite the
temptation—and much to her surprise—Mantovanni headed for the door
"You'll
have to coil around someone else tonight, Ajara,"
he announced. "I'm sure you'll understand when I tell you…
"…I
have a headache."
***
Rhian and her companion entered the
All Ranks Mess, and took in the scene before them.
Along with
the omnipresent humans, who seemed to dominate this Federation, there were at
least twelve other species present—none of which she'd ever seen. They
were doing the things off duty personnel did when time afforded: Sharing a
meal; laughing; being together in the spirit of comradeship.
It was the
first time she'd been reminded of home.
Most of
them were male, though… and the realization was quite jarring.
The door
opened again behind them, and a pair of officers entered.
Rhian smiled.
Ahhh, at
last—the enforcement agents assigned to watch us. I was wondering when they'd
make an appearance.
"May I
help you?"
A man had
addressed her.
Evidently
he was from the laborer class, since he was carrying a tray containing beverages,
and had the vacuously friendly smile of servers everywhere.
"Yes,"
she replied pleasantly; a quick examination of his thoughts showed only slight
curiosity, a desire to help and…
Oh, dear.
He finds me attractive… how odd to imagine
such things with a male.
"I am
unfamiliar with your foods; please bring me something indicative of your
culture."
The man
grinned.
"My culture, or the culture of the Federation? The latter would
be a little difficult."
She found
herself returning his smile.
"Your
culture, then… you are…?" she led.
"Terran,"
he answered. "From a nation called
"Bring
me some of each… and for the male," she added offhandedly. "He does
need to eat, too."
He looked
at her strangely, but nodded and moved towards one of the devices from which
she'd taken water. A moment later, he returned with two plates and two mugs.
The former were filled with slabs of steaming flesh and white chunks of some
substance smeared in the sauce from the meat.
"Steak,
potatoes…" he told her, "…and, of course, beer; all from our
handy-dandy replicator. Enjoy." He gave her a last friendly look—of
course, he was imagining something much more intimate than a look as he did
so—then moved off to attend another group.
Interesting.
She tasted
the meat, and was stunned. She really couldn't tell the difference between it
and the real thing.
What was
the word they'd used? Replicator?
The
achievement was nothing short of astonishing—she'd never tasted reconstituted
food that was this good.
There was
more to these people then they'd presumed.
***
Mantovanni
indulged his chief engineer momentarily, as the merry mammal waxed enthusiastic
about Merelyth's beauty. The dolphin was a true explorer—and,
on occasion, seemingly blind to more pragmatic, and perilous, considerations.
"What
have you learned?"
"Quite
a bit; I probably got more from her than she did from me. She's single-minded,
but hardly what I'd consider a scientist. She entered engineering and
immediately accosted one of my technicians; however, she was forced to
discontinue whatever she was doing when I approached."
"Did
she try to influence you?"
"Oh,
yes. It tickled. Every time her attempts got too annoying, I squealed. That seemed
to break her concentration quite nicely."
The captain
smothered a grin. Only the dolphin could undergo a psionic
assault and still like the person who attempted it—not to mention find a
clever way to discourage it.
Irriantia's enthusiasm
remained in place. "Their biotechnology, at least, is quite impressive;
something in which the Borg would be interested, I'd bet. They'd be prime
candidates for assimilation. The male accompanying them has been genetically
altered; his intelligence seems quite limited, yet his cranial capacity is
slightly greater than that of the females. I have a theory about him which
seems borne out by the evidence."
The captain
smiled slightly. "I knew you would. Go ahead."
"You
won't like it," the dolphin told him pertly.
Mantovanni
glowered at him.
"I
don't like any of it, Irriantia… just tell
me."
"All
right," the engineer acceded. "I'm fairly certain he's an ambulatory
data storage unit. It certainly has advantages over bio-neural gel packs."
Startling
Luciano Mantovanni was a major task.
Irriantia had just done it.
"Oh,
that's beautiful." The captain shook his head in disgust; then
another thought occurred to him.
"By
the way, how did you get all that? I hardly imagine she volunteered it
in conversation."
Irriantia chirped with liquid delight.
"When
you're nudging on someone's front door, captain, you're usually not too
attentive as to what's swimming through the back."
For the
second time in a minute, the dolphin had taken his commander by surprise.
"You're
quite a bit more devious than I'd thought, Irriantia,"
noted Mantovanni.
"Remind
me to promote you."
***
Alexandra Cawley was frightened.
It was
When the
doors had opened, she'd ignored it; her supervisor, Lieutenant Pallini (or, "Head Lab Rat", as she was
affectionately called) had taken to checking on her at odd hours. At first
she'd resented it, but a talk with Counselor Hatshepsut had helped her realize
the woman genuinely liked her, and simply wanted to make certain she wasn't
working herself too hard.
"Hi!"
Alexandra had called.
No answer.
"Terri?"
she'd tried again.
Again,
there was nothing.
When she'd
turned around, she'd nearly screamed—a woman was standing behind her, not five
feet away.
To her
credit, she'd maintained her calm.
"What
are you doing in here, ma'am? This area of the vessel is off limits without a
Level Four security clearance. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
The woman
was looking at her now, with an expression she'd never before seen.
"Why?"
she responded, smiling rather strangely. "You're the one who
invited me to stay."
"I beg
your pardon, ma'am? I… I…"
Cawley hesitated, her mind reeling.
"…I suppose
you can stay, for a minute…" she whispered.
The woman
drew very close.
"Thank
you. I'd like that."
She's so beautif—
The doors
slid open, just then, and Hatshepsut entered.
Alexandra
tore her eyes away, stumbling back; she brushed a PADD and sent it skittering
across the floor.
"I- I
need to go. Excuse me…" She fled past the Felisian into the corridor,
weeping hysterically. One of the guards followed in concern; the second, an
Andorian male, stood glaring stoically into the room. When the portal began to
reseal itself, he intentionally stepped back.
The door
closed on the two of them, Felisian and Chisaari.
Hatshepsut
growled, baring fangs, and then did something she had only once before in three
years aboard the
She
extended her talons in anger.
"Perhaps
you'd like to try that with me, you
bitch."
***
"I
think there's been a misunderstanding," Rhian
began.
Hatshepsut
and the guards had taken her directly to Mantovanni's ready room, where the
Felisian was still silently congratulating herself on having not disemboweled
the woman.
"We're
waiting," the captain prompted sharply.
Rhian looked a bit disdainful, but
continued.
"My
people seek… companionship… exclusively with others of our gender… your
Ensign Cawley was daydreaming… thinking of a woman
with whom she could be… intimate. Such, of course, is an obvious
invitation. I merely thought to…" she allowed her voice to trail off as it
became clear her audience was unimpressed.
Mantovanni
answered her, his face a mask of grim restraint.
"To a human,
Lady Scholar, such thoughts are some of the most intimate and private we
possess. What we think is our business, and having the power to
see into another's mind does not give you the right to do so."
Rhian looked at him, half
apologetic, half smug.
"Well,
then, I shall certainly abide by those restrictions, Captain. I didn't know.
"However,
I do feel the need to point this out: Your society is quite hypocritical. To think
one thing and do another… such is inherently dishonest."
Hatshepsut
growled slightly.
"Consider
this, then: If you restrained yourself in the first place, you wouldn't know
such… hypocrisies, as you might call them… were occurring."
Rhian immediately shook her head in
denial, but it was plain the words were affecting her.
"Tell
me, Lady Scholar," the captain began quietly. "If you were captain of
a starship, and a group of powerful individuals you'd rescued from a derelict
came aboard your vessel and: One, bragged about their intention to extend their
dominance over your part of the galaxy; Two, assaulted your officers
physically, psionically and with unwanted sexual overtures;
Three, made it clear with both their words and actions that they had
little but contempt for you, your civilization, your culture and your social
mores; and Four, showed few signs of endeavoring to compromise; what would you
do?"
Rhian's expression had gone hurtling
from defiant, straight through thoughtful and finally alighted firmly on
ashamed during his explication of the situation. It was obvious she'd never
really examined it from any perspective other than her own.
"Bridge to Captain Mantovanni."
He tapped
his comm badge.
"Go
ahead."
"Sir,
we're closing on the source of those resonance traces we discussed earlier. "The trail seems to end directly ahead."
***
"We're
entering the J-74 star system, Captain."
Mantovanni
acknowledged her with, "Slow to impulse, T'Vaar. Erika, now that we're
closer…?"
Benteen nodded, already having begun
the short-range scan she'd known her captain would immediately require.
"
The
Sicilian, for a moment, gave no answer. Then surprisingly, he chuckled briefly.
"Considering
where that posture got everyone else who tried it, Marcus, I'm going to
say no. Go to yellow alert, but keep our weapons offline and our shields
down."
"That
is unwise, Captain," Rhian suddenly announced.
"The creature is dangerous."
Her
observation got everyone's attention.
"'Creature'?"
echoed Hatshepsut. "That's what I call unexpected candor, Lady Scholar.
Might we ask the purpose behind this sudden revelation?"
Rhian glared at the Felisian, but
answered almost immediately.
"Motivated
self-interest, 'Counselor,'" she replied, stressing the title in a fashion
that sounded anything but respectful. "I have no desire to suffer the
beast's ravages again."
Hatshepsut,
however, was unsatisfied.
"'Again'? Suddenly
you're a veritable fount of information! Hoping to curry credit for
cooperating—just before we'd find out for ourselves, that is?"
While the
ploy was, indeed, somewhat transparent, pointing it out wasn't precisely what
Mantovanni would have called "diplomatic." Even as Rhian's expression devolved from sour to positively
venomous, Benteen's statement called a halt to the exchange.
"I've
got something worth a look, Captain."
Mantovanni
nodded. "On screen."
The viewer
shifted from the starfield to a look at the star's lone
"planet": A battered little chunk of rock that would barely qualify
as a large asteroid in some of the more affluent solar systems.
It was what
was orbiting the planet that got their attention.
The object—or,
more appropriately, subject, if it is indeed a creature, Mantovanni thought
wryly—reminded him of nothing so much as a chubby brown seedpod.
A 650-meter
chubby brown seedpod, that is.
"What
do you think, Erika, T'Vaar?" he asked. "Is it alive?"
"If
these readings are valid, I'd have to say yes," Benteen
replied.
"I
concur," T'Vaar added. "Further, the commander and I have found an
analog in the ship's data banks."
Mantovanni
raised a brow. "Do tell," he prodded drolly.
"USS Enterprise-D
encountered a being similar in appearance to this one—only much
larger—on Stardate 47771.2. Its classification, in
brief, reads: 'Life form designation: Gom'tuu.
Code name: Tin Man. Description: Organic starship of tremendous power,
possessing technological capabilities far in advance of current or projected Federation
science. The only example of this species thus far encountered was both
sentient…", she then paused for effect, "…and
telepathic."
Telepathic… of course, Mantovanni thought. He turned accusingly
towards Rhian—but didn't have a chance to speak before…
Aldus,
whose position at tactical gave him the best view of
The
captain, T'Vaar, Hatshepsut and Rhian, in the span of
a blink, had disappeared.
His usual
Roman restraint failed him.
"Security
alert!" he blurted. "They're gone!"
It didn't
take the rest of the bridge crew long to determine who "they" were.
After a
muttered, "Damn it!", Erika Benteen stood, even as other personnel scrambled either to
reconfigure their consoles or to man suddenly empty stations.
Alarms and
sirens blared throughout the bridge until she snapped, "Turn that racket
off!" A half-second later, the sound ceased.
First
things first, Benteen
thought.
"Computer,
locate Captain Mantovanni."
Promptly,
it told her, "The captain is not on board the
"Is
the same true of T'Vaar, Hatshepsut and Lady Scholar Rhian?"
After a
brief delay, it answered, "Affirmative."
"They
aren't the only ones," Aldus informed her. "Reports are coming in
from all over the ship. There are 29 missing in all… security reports both Ajara and Merelyth gone as
well."
"Son
of a…" Benteen cut herself off. "Red alert. Raise shields, and begin rotating both nutation and frequency."
"Weapons?" Aldus
asked quietly.
Benteen settled herself, albeit
gingerly, in the center seat.
"No.
The captain was right about provoking a reaction." She had a sudden
thought. "Aldus, bring up a list of the missing crew members." As
each scanned their respective displays, Erika found her suspicions confirmed.
"See
any similarities?" she inquired pointedly.
"The
captain… T'Vaar… nine other Vulcans… Irriantia… the Chisaari,
excepting the male…" The Roman's head snapped up, and their eyes met.
"All telepaths."
Benteen nodded, grimacing.
"A real meeting of the minds." Her eyes were drawn back to the viewer.
"Care
to guess where it's being held?"
***
Hatshepsut
found herself back in her nightmare.
This time,
though—much to her ashamed relief—she wasn't alone. The Felisian felt a strong
hand on her arm.
The captain
whispered, just loudly enough for her to hear, "Steady, M'Raav."
She
accepted the reassurance gratefully—and tried to do the same with the advice.
The hallway
which last time seemed to close in on her, this time pulsed rhythmically. The
background noise was somewhat disquieting to one of her acute hearing.
It sounds
like a hungry kit's tummy, she thought.
"I
assume this is the belly of the beast," Mantovanni's words echoed her
sentiments uncannily; she growled in disturbed affirmation.
There was a
luminescence about them emanating from the walls in sufficient measure to allow
fairly reliable vision. They seemed to be at a juncture or crossroads of some
sort: Passages led in six different directions.
The captain
tapped his comm badge.
"Mantovanni
to
He wasn't
disappointed: The little device remained silent, failing even to give a chirp
in response to his repeated attempts.
"Well,"
came an unwelcome voice, "it seems as if we're
free to act without having to concern ourselves about petty players clouding
the issue."
The
acoustics were nearly indecipherable; both Hatshepsut and the captain could
recognize the speaker—Merelyth—but, in this case, the
acuity of the Felisian's hearing served only to
confuse her further. The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Instinctually,
Hatshepsut whirled and crouched.
Unfortunately,
her instincts—confused as they were by the surfeit of stimuli—were wrong.
When the
blow came, it was precise and powerful. The Felisian saw an explosion of light,
followed by swift oblivion.
Mantovanni's
hearing was better than the average human's, in part
because of his Vulcan upbringing. He had no pretensions, however, that it
matched—or even approached—that of his counselor.
When he
heard Merelyth's voice, tinged with a triumphant
arrogance, he'd known an attack of some sort was imminent; his reaction had
been to duck, roll and
hope M'Raav did the same.
No such
luck.
When he came
to his feet, he found Merelyth but a few yards
away—standing over the still form of Hatshepsut. Her head lolled at what seemed
to him an impossible angle.
"I'm
almost disappointed, Captain. Rhian had said she was
rather impressive when angry. I should have like to
see that—before killing her, that is."
"Let's
see how you do against an opponent who's actually facing you, Merelyth. I know it runs counter to Chisaari
tradition to engage in honorable combat…" her eyes widened in
surprise, then narrowed in fury, "…but, then again, I'm just a man.
What threat could I possibly be?
"I'm
waiting for an answer, you murderous psychopath."
She came at
him; for a moment, he thought to outmuscle her, but then considered that most
men probably began a combat with a Chisaari warrior
that way.
As his mind
phrased the question, Where are the others?, his body relaxed in to an aikijutsu stance. He took her blow's momentum—despite his
readiness, she still very nearly connected—and swung her around with tremendous
force behind him… there to collide with the oncoming Rhian.
As the two
woman crashed to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, the captain smiled
grimly.
"Another Chisaari behind
me… why am I not surprised?"
When the psionic assault came, it didn't find him entirely
unprepared; he'd theorized that at least some of their vaunted martial skill
was due to telepathic and telekinetic "assistance."
Still, its
power was startling.
Ajara laughed, despite the fact
that she wasn't overwhelming his defenses. A moment later, it became clear why.
Mantovanni
staggered suddenly, as the force of the attack increased substantially. He was
still resisting, still the master of his own will… but he was incrementally
losing ground.
Assailed on
three sides by the combined powers of Ajara, Merelyth and Rhian,
Though it was just a matter of time, the captain fought on.
***
Hatshepsut
felt soft paws caressing her face, and opened her eyes.
A cub sat
next to her. It was very small—perhaps three summers—and its fur was still more
like the down of a newborn kit.
It mewed
piteously, holding its arms towards her, desperate for reassurance, for
affection, for love.
She hesitated
momentarily; her instincts to comfort were stronger that her feline suspicion,
though, and she gathered him into her arms.
"What's
your name, little one?" M'Raav purred.
"Gom'tuu," he said.
***
"Is
there any chance of beaming someone over there?" Benteen
asked. Patrick Aiello had declared Mav "properly cranky and fit for
duty," and released him from sickbay only moments ago.
Mav
winced—his ribs were still a little tender—and replied gruffly, "No way.
Not without altering the polarity of the static field surrounding 'Pudgy' over
there."
"Well,
how would you go about altering the polarity?" she asked patiently.
"I'd
get Irriantia to do it!" Mav roared belligerently. "He's the dreamy innovator. I'm
just a mechanic!"
Erika abruptly
realized that she'd been going about this the wrong way, and changed her
tactics appropriately.
"So
what you're saying is that officers really are much smarter and more
capable than NCOs."
Mav glared
at her for a solid ten seconds, huffing noisily. For a moment, Benteen thought he might hit her.
Then,
cursing loudly—at her for manipulating him, at Irriantia
for not being there, at Mantovanni just because he was Mantovanni—Mav pulled
the panel off the main deflector dish controls and started yanking out isolinear chips.
Benteen hoped he had a plan, or at
least a purpose.
"I'll
take that as a 'No,'" she told him—and then ducked out before he really did
hit her.
***
"Not
quite the man you thought you were, eh, Captain?"
Ajara's tone was mocking, but the fact that she spoke the
words was telling; it meant the full measure of her power was trained on
breaking him.
Merelyth's presence was more brutish, but no less pleased.
She enthusiastically assaulted him whenever opportunity afforded, and her glee was
malicious and exuberant.
"You're
rather a handsome figure, Captain; after you've been properly conditioned,
you'll make a fine consort—or even a makeshift receptacle."
Furiously,
Mantovanni dug in mentally, and for a moment managed to hold his ground.
He'd
learned from Sevek long ago how to condition his mind
in such a way as to prepare what Vulcans called tal mavir—the
"death of one's choosing." It wasn't just a suicide trigger; it
rendered the mind employing it a shattered landscape. The Chisaari
would be unable to use either his mind or his body.
Luciano
Mantovanni prepared to make the only choice he could.
***
He's the
ship itself, Hatshepsut realized.
The little
cub clinging to her, seeking safety in the folds of her embrace—both physical
and mental—was the Gom'tuu, the creature that
had effortlessly smashed a Dominion battleship like a haava
melon.
It was
alone… it was…
Whatever
barriers of fear that remained between them came down, and a torrent of imagery
and thought rushed into the mind of M'Raav Hatshepsut.
It was most
unpleasant.
***
The time was nearly upon
him—but Mantovanni couldn’t simply give way without a last throw of the dice.
"Rhian," he gasped. "You don’t seem to have the…. unnh… enthusiasm
of these two. Could it be you’re feeling
a little less impressed with the Chisaari warrior
ethic? Perhaps that code of honor is looking a little tarnished?"
"Silence,
human," Merelyth sneered. "You are a man…
you are nothing!"
He ignored her.
"A
true warrior often stands alone, Rhian… she decides for herself.
"This is your moment to do that."
Finally,
the captain fell silent. In seconds he would either be overwhelmed, or take the
matter out of their hands.
In that
instant, Mantovanni realized, his
choice might deprive Rhian of hers.
He saw the
point of no return approaching—the instant when he’d no longer have the
strength to trigger the tal mivar. If he didn’t do it before then,
he’d simply wear down, and eventually be theirs.
The
decision, suddenly, was upon him… and rather than dying, he continued to fight.
Ajara smiled; Merelyth
gave a warrior’s cry of triumph.
Rhian abruptly withdrew from the
battle.
Her
companions’ surprise and anger were total; no longer were they making progress
towards the victory that had been seconds away. In fact, in the aftermath of
the shock, they lost much of the ground they’d gained.
In their
complete and heedless fury, Ajara and Merelyth turned on Rhian.
She reeled
back, withering before their onslaught. Her own uncertainties left her vulnerable,
and she shriveled to the ground in despair.
The captain
stepped forward, intending to make the contest again a physical one—when, at
once, it ended.
In the
recesses of his mind, Mantovanni heard a screeching wail—a psionic
cry of such incalculable force that it caused him pain even though it had not
been directed at him.
How much
worse it was for the two targets.
Both Ajara and Merelyth gasped in
agony, and then abruptly straightened, their faces twisted in confusion.
The captain
and Rhian, in the same moment, realized what had
happened: Just as a bright enough light could blind, or a loud enough sound
deafen, so, evidently, could a psionic roar of
sufficient force render one so gifted… mute.
Luciano
Mantovanni was almost moved to pity. The two looked so desolate, so forlorn in
their deprivation, that he nearly repented of his next
intended action.
Then he
remembered what they’d tried to do to him and Rhian—and
what they had done to M’Raav… and
like Pharaoh so long ago, he hardened his heart.
Ajara and Merelyth
were highly skilled combatants, arrogant in the certainty of those skills. Yet
both knew in their hearts when they saw Mantovanni coming for them, that they
were a pair of dead women.
He paused
for an instant, coldly deciding which one to eliminate first.
Merelyth killed my friend.
She dies last.
The
Sicilian turned for Ajara, brushed aside her
defensive technique, found the pressure points for tal shaya…
"Captain, no!"
M’Raav.
…and at the last moment, turned the attack into a Vulcan neck
pinch.
"Behind
you!" the Felisian warned.
He’d known,
though; and he wasn’t feeling gentle. With more force than he usually employed,
the captain lashed back with a kick that caught the onrushing Merelyth in the torso—and broke four of her ribs. Then he
swung around with a vicious back fist that caught her in the side of the head,
lifted her off the ground and deposited her against the far wall… hard.
When the Chisaari fell, she didn’t even twitch.
It
was at that moment Irriantia, T'Vaar and a collection
of
"I
assumed you needed help. I see I was in error."
Mantovanni
sagged against the wall; his psychic exhaustion was almost total.
"No,
I need the help."
Their comm
badges revived in the middle of Benteen's latest litany.
"…are
you receiving us? We're preparing to fire a low-intensity particle beam at the Gom'tuu in order to reverse the polarity on the shield imprisoning
you…"
There was a
brief delay.
"What
do you mean the shield's down?" she asked.
Finally, a
more distant, angrier voice grumbled, "You mean I did all that work for
nothing?!"
Hastily,
the captain replied, "Hold your fire, Erika. We're all right over here.
The situation is under control."
"…Sir,
we were just about…"
"…to
do nothing, Commander," he interrupted. "We're in no immediate
danger. Stand by."
"Yes,
sir… Lieutenants Aldus and Steele will be in transporter room one with a
security team, and a contingent of marines."
I feel
better already, the captain thought
drolly. What he told her was, "Very
well. Mantovanni
out."
The captain
motioned to T'Vaar and Hatshepsut, while a pair of guards kept a careful eye on
Rhian.
"I
take it you're in communication with this organism, Counselor," he began
wearily. The wall upon which he leaned was feeling more and more comfortable by
the moment.
"Yes,
sir," she replied, purring.
With a suspicious
lilt to her voice, the Felisian whispered, "If I promise he won't be too
much trouble, can we keep him?"
***
"We’re
just not sure, Captain."
Luciano
Mantovanni was like most starship commanders in at least one respect: He didn’t
like to hear any variation of the phrase "I don’t know" as a response
to one of his questions.
"The Chisaari did consent to be examined, though," McDonald
noted. She and Matsuoka had asked the captain and Erika Benteen
into his office to discuss the consequences of the Gom’tuu’s "tantrum."
"What
did you find?" Erika asked.
At her
host’s nod, McDonald explained.
"Insofar
as we can determine, the centers regulating and enabling telepathic and other psionic ability have been ‘short-circuited’, for lack of a
better term. The essential components seem to have been overloaded by an influx
of incompatible energies. We can’t even say whether their condition is
stable."
"What
are their chances for recovery?" the captain asked.
With his
usual brevity, Matsuoka answered, "Slim and none."
McDonald
smiled briefly at his succinctness, then clarified for
the other two.
"Shiro’s right; that is, ‘slim’ if we use a technique I’ve devised, and ‘none’ if they’re left to the Chisaari medical establishment. Their practices are a bit
rudimentary compared with ours, from what Rhian’s
told us; as a matter of fact, they’re largely undeveloped."
"They’re
like the Klingons: If you can’t protect yourself, you
don’t deserve to survive." Matsuoka did little to conceal his disgust with
what seemed to him a barbarous perspective.
"Speaking
of Rhian," interjected Benteen,
"how is she?"
"Feeling
utterly alone," McDonald replied. "She certainly can’t go back to the
Chisaari home world after what happened on the Gom’tuu starship—not without facing arrest, trial and
execution in swift succession."
"Was
she ‘short-circuited’, too?" Erika was clearly far less concerned with Rhian’s mental state
than she was with her mental abilities.
"No,"
Matsuoka told them. "She’s fine."
Benteen almost looked disappointed.
"I’m not sure how I feel about that."
The
captain’s expression was sympathetic.
"That’s
understandable, considering what happened to you just a few days ago. I’ll
speak with her after we’ve dealt with the more pressing matters at hand."
Turning back to the doctors, he inquired, "What are your recommendations
for Ajara and Merelyth,
then?"
Matsuoka
and McDonald exchanged glances—clearly there was a difference of opinion—then
the former spoke.
"Considering
your taste for irony," he observed, "I have a feeling you’ll like
it."
***
"He’s
lonely and afraid."
Hatshepsut
addressed the senior staff with quiet determination; the captain, who knew her
better than the others did, though, could see the impending terminus of her
thought.
"‘Lonely
and afraid’?" repeated Aldus. "It crushed a Dominion battleship like
I would an annoying insect. I feel it necessary to ask: What does it have to be afraid of?"
"Power
is not always indicative of maturity, Lieutenant," T’Vaar observed.
"If you came upon another, smaller
being in need, would you hesitate to offer assistance?"
"While I can sympathize
with the Gom’tuu’s loneliness, there’s also the
safety of the ship and its crew to consider. What happens to us when it has
another ‘tantrum’?" Benteen’s point wasn’t as vehemently stated as the
Roman’s, but it gave them all pause.
Well, most
of them.
The
Felisian surprised them with an infinitesimal growl before she recovered
herself. She took a deep breath, exhaled and continued.
"What
the Chisaari failed to realize in their relentless
acquisitiveness—and what some of my fellow officers are choosing to ignore
because of their concerns for the ship—is that this Gom’tuu,
despite his awesome power, is just a baby…
and he needs our help."
She stood.
"He’s
shown me the events that led to his isolation. Allow me to relay them.
"He
was with one of his own kind—a guardian or parent—exploring a stellar nursery.
He became curious about something he’d never seen before."
"I’d
have to say that sounds like just about every child I’ve ever known… and most
Starfleet officers, as well," noted the captain. There were a few
chuckles, and he motioned for Hatshepsut to continue.
"Unfortunately,
the object of his curiosity was, according to Irriantia’s
interpretation of the little one’s memories, a quantum singularity of enormous
size and power. Despite his parent’s warnings about such phenomena, he slipped
away, got too close—and was caught.
"He doesn’t remember much
of anything for some time after that. When he awoke, Gom'tuu
was surrounded by three Talarian attack scouts. As a
race, they’re not telepathic, so it didn’t understand what they wanted—until
they opened fire, that is."
"How typically Talarian," Benteen observed, shaking her head. "I’d be surprised if they even tried to communicate."
As if to
confirm Erika’s opinion, Hatshepsut continued with, "They peppered him
with X-ray lasers, particle weapons and merculite
rockets; they hurt him—to be more precise, they stung him—and he reacted in the way any small child would be
expected to do."
A derisive
snort from Aldus earned him a warning glare from Benteen.
"Well,
that explains why we didn’t find any Talarian ships," Irriantia
chirped.
Hatshepsut
nodded. "After that, he began broadcasting a signal—probably what most of
us would consider a homing beacon—which was detected by the Cardassians.
Despite the urgencies of the war, they sent a cruiser to investigate. It at
least seems to have attempted communication. Of course, they met with no
success, and seem to have decided that the solution to their dilemma was to
attach a tractor beam to Gom’tuu and haul him back to
a Cardassian base.
"Needless
to say, he resisted, and…"
"Let
me guess," interjected Benteen. "They
opened fire."
"Thus,
debris field number two," Irriantia concluded.
"I’m
curious," mused the captain, "as to whether the Dominion then
dispatched one of their new battleships into this sector to hunt down what they
assumed was a Federation or Klingon ‘capital vessel’ operating in the
area."
"That
would be a logical assumption," T’Vaar agreed.
Mantovanni
raised a brow, in an odd mixture of mock affront and genuine amusement, at T’Vaar’s "confirmation" of his reasoning; she
replied in kind, and a few of their fellows smiled. It had become something of
an affectionate gesture between the two—though neither was likely to admit it.
Hatshepsut purred in
amusement, and looked as if she would add something.
Aldus beat
her to the punch. "This is all very interesting; but what are you proposing, Counselor?" he
asked; the Roman was neither easily persuaded nor readily deterred.
"We
must take him back to Federation space, where he can be cared for and
nurtured," the Felisian declared emphatically.
Aldus was
having none of it. "What, so the next ‘tantrum’ destroys a starbase? A planet? A solar system?"
There was a
moment of silence.
"While
I think the lieutenant is projecting a worst-case scenario, his fears are, at
least in part, valid ones," T’Vaar conceded.
"One
doesn’t leave children to their own devices in any of our societies,"
Hatshepsut countered. "How much more dangerous will he be if left alone,
to grow ever more frightened and angry?"
"We’ve
already seen him kill when he’s
angry, Counselor," pointed out Lieutenant Steele. "Whether or not you
like that part of Marcus’ argument, it has to be addressed."
"Be
that as it may, I volunteer to stay with him, if we aren’t bringing him back
with us," Hatshepsut announced.
"I
also volunteer," Irriantia added.
The Roman
rolled his eyes. "And how can we be certain you and the counselor haven’t
been unduly influenced by the creature?"
"The baby," Irriantia
corrected pertly.
"The
baby behemoth," Aldus amended in
turn. "After all, you’ve had far more contact with it than anyone else.
How do we know what effect that’s had on you?"
"Children
often refuse to speak with those who make them uncomfortable," T’Vaar
observed. "Commanders Irriantia and Hatshepsut
are more open and gregarious with their feelings. I consider it likely the
child selected them for that very reason."
"We
just got through dealing with intrusive telepaths," Steele reminded them.
"The
difference between that situation and this one is that everyone here’s been
well within their usual tendencies for this entire meeting." The captain’s
observation garnered agreement, whether enthusiastic or grudging, from all.
"The overriding concern," he continued, "is that this life-form
is in definite need, and not that it’s still potentially dangerous. It never
attacked until provoked severely, gentlemen. Bear that in mind."
Steele and
Aldus both nodded.
"Will
he follow us back to Federation space, M’Raav?" Mantovanni then asked.
"Eagerly,
sir," she purred.
"Very
well, then. Either you or Irriantia will remain
aboard the Gom’tuu at all times, on the assumption
that children shouldn’t be left unattended. I’ll contact Vice Admiral T’Kara at Starfleet Research; she’ll make certain the
Federation places a higher priority on care than study.
"Thank
you all. Dismissed."
Hatshepsut
lingered as the rest departed the observation lounge.
"Yes, Counselor?"
Mantovanni leaned back in the chair to regard her.
The
Felisian regarded him with an unwavering feline stare, and said, "You
seemed quite upset when you thought I’d been killed."
"Ah."
She
maintained her gaze.
Finally, he
sighed minutely, and added, "Besides, I’ve spent a lot of hours—how shall
we say—breaking you in?"
"Hmmmmm…" The sound
that issued from her throat was half-purr, half-growl.
"Interestingly
enough, my rapport with our 650-meter kit gave me a unique insight into your
motivations in that particular moment."
Mantovanni scowled. "Did
it, now?"
She leaned
towards him, almost predatorily, and murmured, "I’ll set up a counseling
session for you next week."
Now the
captain’s eyes narrowed. "That’s not very amusing, M’Raav."
She turned
towards the observation lounge door.
"It
wasn’t meant to be. Consider it a reminder of the distinct difference between
‘soft’ and ‘weak.’"
As the
portal whispered shut behind her, he found himself caught between irritation
and affection… and shaking his head at both.
***
Jane McDonald quietly observed
Rhian, Lady Scholar and Warrior of the Chisaari Realm; she in turn watched in silence as her
erstwhile comrades were placed back in their cryogenic canisters.
"Medically
speaking, we don’t have much choice—now." McDonald’s tone was a bit
disapproving; she had proposed a highly innovative and complicated procedure
that might restore Ajara and Merelyth
to normal function.
Rhian, as the only representative
of the Chisaari Matriarchate, had refused to allow
it.
She'd gone
to the captain over it, pointing out—rightly, in her mind—that Rhian didn’t precisely have their best interests at heart when making her choice.
"It
would only be natural for her to be resentful—and vengeful—about the assault
she suffered. I don’t think she’s impartial enough to make the decision."
Mantovanni
hadn’t been any more receptive.
"It’s
a matter for the Chisaari to sort out amongst themselves," he’d told her.
"Two
of them are unconscious, sir,"
she’d gritted.
The captain
had raised a brow. "Then I believe that the legal decision-making power
rests with Rhian."
"That’s
convenient," McDonald had snapped angrily. "Her enemies and yours
crippled, and neither of you will lift a finger!"
With a
single sentence, she’d managed to insult him as gravely as anyone had dared in
a long time. When he’d glared up at her, Jane had felt as she never had before
the sheer force of his personality— and
the power of his anger.
She’d also
seen her career flashing before her eyes.
He’d never
said a word about it, though; instead, he simply asked the question that had so
infuriated her the day before.
"What
did Shiro have to say?"
Her lips
thinned momentarily; then she’d told him, "He said that as a doctor, he’d
like to help them; but as a man with a sense of symmetry, he found their fate
poetic." McDonald had folded her arms accusingly.
"He
also said he’d defer to you."
For
a long moment, Luciano Mantovanni had said nothing. When he had, he’d given no
explanation, no justification.
The
captain of the
"You
were about to say something, Doctor?"
Jane
started—and realized Rhian was now in front of her, a
carefully neutral expression on her face.
"There's
still time to change you mind," McDonald reminded her.
"Persistence
seems to be one of your prominent—and less endearing—traits, Doctor. My
decision is final; accept it."
McDonald
was undeterred.
"You
realize you're condemning them to a life without abilities which are vital in
your society?"
Rhian exhaled heavily in
exasperation.
"Yes,
Doctor; I am well aware of the consequences of my actions. I'm the one who
familiarized you with them only a few hours ago. Trust me, they won't suffer
long. Without their powers to safeguard them, they'll be set upon by old
enemies—or older friends—and be dead within a week of arriving home.
"I'll
shed few tears over them," she concluded quietly.
Before
McDonald could speak again, Mav turned away from his work, and back towards the
pair behind him.
"Systems
nominal," he grunted. "They'll make it home."
"My
thanks, Master Chief Petty Officer," Rhian
offered.
"Whatever,"
the Tellarite snorted, and exited that cargo hold
even as Mantovanni entered it. The two exchanged brief comments, inaudible to
the waiting women, then the captain approached the now-functioning canisters.
"Dismissed, Doctor," he said curtly, before she
could even speak.
McDonald's
expression started at astonished and quickly progressed to insulted and
indignant.
Wisely,
though, she immediately left the bay.
"She
doesn't think much of you," Rhian told him
pointedly.
Mantovanni, gazing at the somnolent Ajara,
replied, "That's her right—and her business—in our society; you'd
better get used to that."
He turned
his formidable glare on her then.
"I
also warned you about intrusive telepathy once before, Lady Scholar. Don't
tempt me a third time." His delivery was almost matter-of-fact; that in itself made Rhian take especial
notice.
"I
have not forgotten, Captain," she assured him quickly. "It is a
lifelong habit, however, and will require much discipline to suppress.
Surely you can understand that?"
"I
suggest you adapt quickly," he answered after a moment; then added,
"I'm willing to forego assault charges, the better to allow you a fair
chance at a new life in the Federation—or wherever else you care to go."
Soberly,
she asked, "What would you suggest?"
For a brief
span he considered it, then announced, "If you're serious, both about
learning and starting a new life…" Mantovanni's voice trailed off.
"I
am," she declared.
He searched
her face, decided she was sincere, and said, "Then I suggest Vulcan.
For the
first time since she'd known him, he gave her a slight smile.
"There
are people there, I believe, that can help you with both."
“The vessel’s a total loss, in my opinion.”
Marcus Aldus’ observation might not have been
tactful, considering Rhian’s presence on the bridge,
but the
“Respectfully, Lady Scholar, I concur with
Lieutenant Aldus’ opinion,” Benteen told her gently.
“There’s not much here to salvage.”
Mantovanni, who’d lost ships before, gazed at
the Chisaari sympathetically.
“We’ll take her in tow, if you wish it, Rhian.”
Surprised at his compassion and consideration,
she returned a grateful expression, but shook her head.
“No.” After a silent moment, she added, “If I
might have your permission, Captain, to dispose of her?”
He nodded.
“Weapons officer,” she stated firmly, “arm
your appropriate projectiles, please.”
Aldus, a little surprised, nevertheless
complied immediately. “Photon torpedoes locked on target.”
T’Vaar informed them, “I’ve passed the message
onto Hatshepsut—and through her, the Gom’tuu—warning
them both of the imminent weapons fire.” A moment later, her panel beeped. “She
acknowledges. You are clear, Lady Scholar.”
“Very well.” Rhian looked again
to the Roman.
“Fire.”
Aldus knew his job; a single torpedo spread
struck the crippled Hippolyta-class cruiser precisely amidships, and she
disappeared in a fire of antimatter annihilation.
Just afterwards, his station registered an
incoming communiqué.
"Receiving a transmission
from Starfleet, sir. Rear
Admiral Jellico wishes to speak with you, on a secured channel."
Mantovanni was already halfway across the
bridge as he instructed, "My ready room."
"All right, mister," began the tirade, "you want to explain to me why
you contacted Vice Admiral T'Kara without going
through me first?"
"Actually, sir, I thought it a matter of
administrative convenience; she's the head of Starfleet Research, and it seemed
applicable to discuss it directly with her."
"So you blithely ignored the
chain of command to do so?!" Jellico was nearly red-faced with indignation—righteous indignation, as far as he was concerned.
Mantovanni raised a brow, and replied dryly,
"Rarely do I do anything 'blithely', Admiral… and as to the 'chain of
command,' you must be referring to the one where you're in command, and I'm in
chains."
"That's it! You can consider
yourself on report for insubordination."
It was the wrong thing to say. Mantovanni's
voice grew colder than the void around his ship.
"Well, then," he
enunciated carefully, "I don't have anything further to lose… you posturing, self-important
jackass."
Jellico flinched back as if struck. Then his
voice grew very low.
"Who's your second-in-command,
Captain?"
"That would be Lieutenant Commander Erika
Benteen, my acting X-O."
"Get her in there," he ordered.
Mantovanni tapped his comm badge.
"Erika, would you mind stepping into my
ready room, please?"
A few seconds later, the door opened, and she
moved to stand by his desk.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
Her captain shook his head, and turned the
monitor to face her. "Actually, Admiral Jellico did. Admiral?"
"Commander, your captain is
under arrest for insubordination. You are to take command of the
Benteen's eyes widened; then, her lips
thinned.
"No, sir, I will not."
Jellico's jaw dropped.
"What is it about you that inspires such disrespect,
anyway, Mantovanni?" He then
asked Benteen, "Do you want to join him in custody, Commander? I'd have
thought you'd had enough of that for one lifetime. If you don't, then carry out
my orders!"
Benteen's expression never wavered.
"Sir, the captain freed me from Dalarian Prime at risk to his own life, when the rest of
Starfleet had forgotten me—or
simply didn't care. I'll go back to
prison before I'll act against him in any way. I think you'll
find that attitude prevalent among the entire senior staff—and the crew, as
well."
"No," interrupted the captain firmly.
"Admiral, I'll voluntarily step down; there's no need for you to involve
Commander Benteen. She can simply take charge of
Jellico snorted.
"Unbelievable. The man's under
arrest and he's still trying to dictate policy.
"You're
dismissed, Commander Benteen," the older man sternly ordered.
Mantovanni indicated with his eyes that she
should leave, and Erika departed—posthaste.
"As for you, Captain, I've
reconsidered; I'll permit you to retain command of your vessel until you reach Deep Space Nine. I'll decide what to do with you when you arrive
there.
He muttered harshly, "Jellico out."
Mantovanni considered the entire exchange
again, and realized that the admiral had done the only thing he could to save
face.
The cardinal rule of command is: Never give an order you don't think will be obeyed.
Jellico had, and suffered a twofold
humiliation as a result.
Mantovanni could only imagine what would await
him at Deep Space Nine.