Theunderbolt
"Prepare for trouble..."
- Location
- USoA
They are more than likely worried that when she answers the accusations it will end with precise orbital bombardment around the area.
To Boldly Go... (a Starfleet quest)
- Thread starter OneirosTheWriter
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They are more than likely worried that when she answers the accusations it will end with precise orbital bombardment around the area.
Omake - Ragnarok - AKuz
AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Ragnarok.
USS Enterprise, Stardate 21129.7
Captain Ka'Sharren looks at Doctor Asurva and Lt-Commander Zardmaani, "What are we looking at here?"
The two look at each other and the Orion woman swallows nervously before bringing up a slide on the Conference room's screen. "The Ulith III Mutaphage is like nothing that we've seen before. Before we begin, I would like to issue a warning that the following scenes are extremely graphic, and that they do not make for comfortable viewing. I'm still not used to it." Some of the Senior staff look worried, but none turn away.
The first slide is collage of pictures; a regular colony as seen from orbit, ice clings at the outside of the buildings, but all seems normal, The Enterprise's science office starts grimly, "This is Ulith III before the outbreak."
The next slide clicks into place and Zardmaani continues, "And this is Ulith III afterwards," The next set of slides are similar places as before, but radically and sickeningly altered. Flesh spills from the walls and covers the walls like obscene climbing vines, and ropes of thick pulsating meat drip from the ceilings.
The Caitian Tactical officer hisses in shock, joined by a sickened half-shout from the Tellarite Engineer. Commander Ajam is too fascinated in horror to even blink, and Captain Ka'Sharren succeeds at great cost in continuing to project a calm confidence for her officers to cling to.
The last slide is the most horrific of all: one of flesh covered wall which still has most of a crimson starfleet tunic embedded within it; and something beats heavily behind it.
The Doctor steps up and mercifully clicks through to another series of slides, "The Mutaphage was also seen on Korlonia II. I will spare you the slides and merely mention that they are somehow worse." The Doctor seems dull, drained of emotion. For such a compassionate woman, her state is almost as shocking as the slides, "However due to the actions of Challorn and Kumari we do know something about the Mutaphage: It is the most dangerous contagion that we have ever encountered. The teams conducting research on it are taking precautions that would seem ludicrous with any other contaminant. Instead, I find myself almost worried that they are not being careful enough."
Zardmaani takes a deep breath. "I wish we had more to tell you, but from what little has been provided to me, that the Mutaphage is made up of both organic and nanomachine components, and bear signs of genetic tampering at some point in the past. Aside from that, all they can tell us is to shoot first and answer questions later."
The Tactical Officer nods shakily. "I've received tactical updates to that effect; and have been in contact with some other tactical and security officers..." she pauses significantly, "They agree fully, what they have started to darkly joke of as the "Challorn Protocol", should be used at the first sign of infection. No matter what."
Captain Ka'Sharren thinks deeply. To kill an entire colony, or a entire world. Is no small thing. It is a responsibility that no officer should have to bear.
A voice wafts through the conference room from the bridge, interrupting her thoughts, it is Lieutenant Stol, "Captain we are five minutes out from the Dunwich system."
Captain Ka'Sharren stands up confidently, burying her doubt and dread for the crew's sake, "Time for action then."
As the Senior staff stand up, Douglas Zardmaani catches her by the sleeve. "Captain… there is one more thing" he take a deep breath, "The pattern of outbreaks, the behaviors that I have seen reported" he sighs, "I can draw only one conclusion, and bear in mind that this is a hunch, a conclusion that only someone of my experience and intellect could draw..." he pauses significantly, "There is something in control of the Mutaphage, some intelligence...." The science officer drops his hand in resignation, "and I doubt it is the Romulans"
-----------------------------
SubAdmiral Sinnae Ir-RIhan Sihina of the Romulan Star Navy paces the raised platform at the back of her Warbird's bridge and seethes.
These Federation fools. They have scans, they know what must be done. But she knows them, knows of Human curiosity. They will poke and prod, and continue to play with something beyond their understanding. And they will kill themselves.
And they will do so in a manner that may see her beloved Romulus turn to a festering pulsating mound of flesh along with them.
She halts in her pacing and slams her palms down on the railing of her command platform, the sound of flesh on metal echoing obscenely across the silent bridge, "*Updated Count?*" the Romulan Admiral snaps.
"*Ma'am*" says her tactical officer, "*Two new flight E-Type Battlecruisers, an O-type light cruiser and two M-type C-variants." he says, holding his tongue against further comment.
The odds are lopsidedly against her Quarantine Fleet, but after the failure to stop The Infliction from taking over the Klingon Tregh'bak colony, anything but victory now is inconceivable.
She makes up her mind. She will order her Warbirds and the pair of D7s to engage the Human fleet and take her Heavy Warbird, the Iorhae'edh, into the atmosphere and detonate her ship's singularity power core over the Colony, sacrificing herself and her crew but swallowing the outbreak of The Infliction permanently into a black hole
SubAdmiral Sihina considers how young she is, how few decades she's lived, and how many combined millennia of life she will be sacrificing from her crew. But then-SubCommander Sihina was the only officer of the Tregh'bak debacle that survived senatorial sanction, and she knows what's at stake.
The only way to restore the Quarantine Fleet's honour is success at all costs. Maybe she can force the cowardly Humans to retreat?
Sinnae grips the railing tightly, her knuckles turning white, "*Signal the Fleet: Decloak and bring all weapons and shields online.*" Perhaps a show of willpower can force the Human Federation Fleet to retreat?
"*Advancing Admiral*"
Please, she begs the Elements, let the Human fleet back off so she can do the right thing.
"*New signal… E-Type, reading her Identification now…*" there is a short, shocked pause, and her Tactical officer shouts in near panic, "*ENTERPRISE, SHE'S ENTERPRISE.*"
No. NO. NO! Another E-Type? And one with the reputation of the Enterprise? She'll never reach the surface without being stopped. The Quarantine Fleet will die for NOTHING! "Back us away"
"*Ma'am?!?!*" her tactical officer is surprised. Perhaps he'd become resigned to dying for no reason.
"*I take full responsibility for our…. Withdrawal. Return us to the Neutral Zone.*" she will too, she will take full responsibility for the Fleet's actions. Hopefully the senate will recognize the futility of her situation, "Hail the Enterprise."
"Just the Enterprise ma'am?"
"HAIL THEM ALL, JUST. HAIL. THEM." she all but screams, composure cracking, a sign that she was perhaps not ready for this terrible weight.
"Yes, ma'am" her officer says retreating into a simple duty, happy to not be dieing this day, and angry about the fleet's failure, "Hailing the closest E-type"
She composes herself to address the Human fleet, taking her hands off the railing and clasping them firmly behind her back, only slightly put out to see a Vulcan in the E-Type's command chair. "If you will stand in the way of us saving you all, then you must destroy the colony yourselves."
The Vulcan lackey looks back at her with infuriating Vulcan dispassion, "It sounds as if you are familiar with the contagion."
She pictures classified images of green flesh wrapped around grey metal, of projections of total galactic saturation, of the nightmare of her beloved Rihan in ashes. "Only in the sense that a person is familiar with mortality," she says with cold Romulan precision as the viewscreen snaps off.
As the Quarantine Fleet prepares for the jump to warp; SubAdmiral Sihina considers the ancient Sihina-line Honour blade at her side for a long moment. No one would blame her for taking the honourable and quick way out. It would perhaps carry more weight with the Senate than her live protestations of futility.
She slowly takes her grip from the hilt. No. Someone must protect her officers and crew from retribution… and that someone must be her. Only she can make that sacrifice.
--------------------------
Captain Ka'Sharren sits in her ready room, staring out her window at the vastness of space and the seeming innocuousness of Dunwich IV. "Captain's Log, USS Enterprise, 21130.8"
The Captain considers how only a short time ago she was anticipating a visit, almost a vacation, to an Andorian colony. And now this... "We have secured from Red Alert, are are now orbiting the Dunwich IV colony with the pride of Starfleet alongside. The Sarek, the Kumari, the Courageous, the Cheron, the Challorn, and others are in orbit. There is clearly nothing that can be done for the colonists, but we are loathe to forsake the equipment that could tell the tale of terror of the last days of these poor people. Whatever did this, whatever…"
The blue woman's comm badge beeps and her antennae swivel towards it in surprise, her hand following soon after. "Ka'sharren here"
It is Commander Ajam, "Ma'am! We're are receiving a communication from the Planet…. You need to see this."
The Captain nods to no one in particular, "On my way"
She's out the door to her bridge in moments, settling in to her Captain's chair shortly afterwards, Commander Ajam stepping out of it, eyes fixed on the screen.
The viewscreen is on… but no one fills it. It simply shows the image of one of Dunwich IV's comm centres, though overlaid with the Mutaphage...
Ka'Sharren opens her mouth to ask what is going on, but closes it when a voice comes through the viewscreen, "...we live... " there is another long pause, and Ka'sharren can hear the room slowly breathe, each word is a breath in itself, each word is felt as much as it is heard, and each word feels as if it comes from a thousand throats, "...self hunger... though... Ulith self gone… through... Korlonia self gone… self live… always live...always satisfy...though... Franklin self gone…Federation Selves Futile…. self eternal...though Cheron self gone…Romulan selves futile…. Klingon selves futile...always hunger…Federation selves... will selves soon... Dunwich selves gone...Federation selves futile...Federation selves satiate selves... " the image winks out; though the sight, of writhing pulsating flesh, lives on in the mind's eye of everyone on Enterprise's bridge.
Captain Ka'Sharren is not as shocked as she should be, Lt-Commander Zardmaani's prediction, his "hunch" was right. There is an intelligence at work work. Something ancient, and alien and… altogether malevolent.
"Ma'am, incoming hail from Sarek," comes the Enterprise's comms officer, face pale but hands still as steady as a rock, "The hail is going out to the whole Fleet,"
The Image of the solid Vulcan T'lorel appears on the screen. "It would appear that the Romulan Admiral is right, Dunwich IV should be cauterized. For the good of the Federation."
The screen parts and another face appears on screen, "This must be a Romulan trick! They are trying to get us to destroy one of our own colonies," says Captain Ainsworth of USS Kumari, voice tinged with a hint of desperation and denial. Seeking comfort in a familiar enemy. She's killed one outpost but killing an entire colony is something else entirely.
The screen splits again and the thin angular face of Captain Thuir appears on screen, "I volunteer Challorn to execute General Order 24 on Dunwich IV. Challorn has done this before. We shall do it again." He looks down at his hands for a moment, once stained with blood, always stained with blood.
Captain Ainsworth speaks again, "Kumari should commit the deed. We killed Korlonia II. We can excise this cancer on Dunwhich as well." she seems almost ashamed at her earlier balking.
Captain Ka'Sharren shakes her head. "As Captain of the Flagship and the most capable unit in the system. I am taking command of the Fleet." Thus taking command of the decision. If anyone will be to blame for destroying Dunwich and any remaining of the twenty thousand colonists who miraculously remain uninfected, it will be her.
Captain Victoria Eaton of Courageous is the first to reply. "According to proper regulations, I am accepting your Authority, Captain Ka'Sharren."
The rest of the Captains fall into line soon after, if she wants all the responsibility for killing a world, so be it. She is the Enterprise's captain after all. And Flagship status aside, the name Enterprise alone carries a lot of informal weight.
Ka'Sharren wastes no time, "As the senior vessel here, we WILL be conducting General Order 24 on Dunwich IV. My Tactical officer is drawing up plans to scour the world of life." long association and loyal service means that Captain Ka'Sharren knows that Samhaya Mrr'Shan is busy at work without needing to check with her. "I will not force any other officer or ship to take part. However if any Captain would like to help shoulder the burden, they may volunteer by contacting my Tactical officer."
The screen winks off and Enterprise's Captain lets out a long breath as Commander Ajam pats her on the back. "We are behind you all the way ma'am. Every officer will do their duty."
Commander Ajam reaches for some other bit of comfort to provide to her Captain, and Lieutenant Stol Provides it, "The needs of the Many outweighs the needs of the Few."
At the rear of the bridge Lt-Commander Mrr'shan speaks up, voice quiet, "Ma'am. I have a firing plan laid in, every other ship in the fleet with the exception of Dryad has volunteered."
Captain Ka'Sharren rises to her feet, carefully thinking through each motion and word, forcing herself not to shake or shudder, "Very well then Commander. You may fire when ready."
Captain Ka'Sharren watches as orange lances leap out from her vessel and stab at the colony, she watches as from elsewhere in orbit of the planet other lances of light and streaks of red impact the planet. Scourging, cauterizing, killing flesh and metal.
Captain Ka'sharren even continues to watch, even through the breathy, haunting, and triumphant taunting hails of the Mutaphage; as her ship and those like her murder a Federation world for the Needs of the Many.
USS Enterprise, Stardate 21129.7
Captain Ka'Sharren looks at Doctor Asurva and Lt-Commander Zardmaani, "What are we looking at here?"
The two look at each other and the Orion woman swallows nervously before bringing up a slide on the Conference room's screen. "The Ulith III Mutaphage is like nothing that we've seen before. Before we begin, I would like to issue a warning that the following scenes are extremely graphic, and that they do not make for comfortable viewing. I'm still not used to it." Some of the Senior staff look worried, but none turn away.
The first slide is collage of pictures; a regular colony as seen from orbit, ice clings at the outside of the buildings, but all seems normal, The Enterprise's science office starts grimly, "This is Ulith III before the outbreak."
The next slide clicks into place and Zardmaani continues, "And this is Ulith III afterwards," The next set of slides are similar places as before, but radically and sickeningly altered. Flesh spills from the walls and covers the walls like obscene climbing vines, and ropes of thick pulsating meat drip from the ceilings.
The Caitian Tactical officer hisses in shock, joined by a sickened half-shout from the Tellarite Engineer. Commander Ajam is too fascinated in horror to even blink, and Captain Ka'Sharren succeeds at great cost in continuing to project a calm confidence for her officers to cling to.
The last slide is the most horrific of all: one of flesh covered wall which still has most of a crimson starfleet tunic embedded within it; and something beats heavily behind it.
The Doctor steps up and mercifully clicks through to another series of slides, "The Mutaphage was also seen on Korlonia II. I will spare you the slides and merely mention that they are somehow worse." The Doctor seems dull, drained of emotion. For such a compassionate woman, her state is almost as shocking as the slides, "However due to the actions of Challorn and Kumari we do know something about the Mutaphage: It is the most dangerous contagion that we have ever encountered. The teams conducting research on it are taking precautions that would seem ludicrous with any other contaminant. Instead, I find myself almost worried that they are not being careful enough."
Zardmaani takes a deep breath. "I wish we had more to tell you, but from what little has been provided to me, that the Mutaphage is made up of both organic and nanomachine components, and bear signs of genetic tampering at some point in the past. Aside from that, all they can tell us is to shoot first and answer questions later."
The Tactical Officer nods shakily. "I've received tactical updates to that effect; and have been in contact with some other tactical and security officers..." she pauses significantly, "They agree fully, what they have started to darkly joke of as the "Challorn Protocol", should be used at the first sign of infection. No matter what."
Captain Ka'Sharren thinks deeply. To kill an entire colony, or a entire world. Is no small thing. It is a responsibility that no officer should have to bear.
A voice wafts through the conference room from the bridge, interrupting her thoughts, it is Lieutenant Stol, "Captain we are five minutes out from the Dunwich system."
Captain Ka'Sharren stands up confidently, burying her doubt and dread for the crew's sake, "Time for action then."
As the Senior staff stand up, Douglas Zardmaani catches her by the sleeve. "Captain… there is one more thing" he take a deep breath, "The pattern of outbreaks, the behaviors that I have seen reported" he sighs, "I can draw only one conclusion, and bear in mind that this is a hunch, a conclusion that only someone of my experience and intellect could draw..." he pauses significantly, "There is something in control of the Mutaphage, some intelligence...." The science officer drops his hand in resignation, "and I doubt it is the Romulans"
-----------------------------
SubAdmiral Sinnae Ir-RIhan Sihina of the Romulan Star Navy paces the raised platform at the back of her Warbird's bridge and seethes.
These Federation fools. They have scans, they know what must be done. But she knows them, knows of Human curiosity. They will poke and prod, and continue to play with something beyond their understanding. And they will kill themselves.
And they will do so in a manner that may see her beloved Romulus turn to a festering pulsating mound of flesh along with them.
She halts in her pacing and slams her palms down on the railing of her command platform, the sound of flesh on metal echoing obscenely across the silent bridge, "*Updated Count?*" the Romulan Admiral snaps.
"*Ma'am*" says her tactical officer, "*Two new flight E-Type Battlecruisers, an O-type light cruiser and two M-type C-variants." he says, holding his tongue against further comment.
The odds are lopsidedly against her Quarantine Fleet, but after the failure to stop The Infliction from taking over the Klingon Tregh'bak colony, anything but victory now is inconceivable.
She makes up her mind. She will order her Warbirds and the pair of D7s to engage the Human fleet and take her Heavy Warbird, the Iorhae'edh, into the atmosphere and detonate her ship's singularity power core over the Colony, sacrificing herself and her crew but swallowing the outbreak of The Infliction permanently into a black hole
SubAdmiral Sihina considers how young she is, how few decades she's lived, and how many combined millennia of life she will be sacrificing from her crew. But then-SubCommander Sihina was the only officer of the Tregh'bak debacle that survived senatorial sanction, and she knows what's at stake.
The only way to restore the Quarantine Fleet's honour is success at all costs. Maybe she can force the cowardly Humans to retreat?
Sinnae grips the railing tightly, her knuckles turning white, "*Signal the Fleet: Decloak and bring all weapons and shields online.*" Perhaps a show of willpower can force the Human Federation Fleet to retreat?
"*Advancing Admiral*"
Please, she begs the Elements, let the Human fleet back off so she can do the right thing.
"*New signal… E-Type, reading her Identification now…*" there is a short, shocked pause, and her Tactical officer shouts in near panic, "*ENTERPRISE, SHE'S ENTERPRISE.*"
No. NO. NO! Another E-Type? And one with the reputation of the Enterprise? She'll never reach the surface without being stopped. The Quarantine Fleet will die for NOTHING! "Back us away"
"*Ma'am?!?!*" her tactical officer is surprised. Perhaps he'd become resigned to dying for no reason.
"*I take full responsibility for our…. Withdrawal. Return us to the Neutral Zone.*" she will too, she will take full responsibility for the Fleet's actions. Hopefully the senate will recognize the futility of her situation, "Hail the Enterprise."
"Just the Enterprise ma'am?"
"HAIL THEM ALL, JUST. HAIL. THEM." she all but screams, composure cracking, a sign that she was perhaps not ready for this terrible weight.
"Yes, ma'am" her officer says retreating into a simple duty, happy to not be dieing this day, and angry about the fleet's failure, "Hailing the closest E-type"
She composes herself to address the Human fleet, taking her hands off the railing and clasping them firmly behind her back, only slightly put out to see a Vulcan in the E-Type's command chair. "If you will stand in the way of us saving you all, then you must destroy the colony yourselves."
The Vulcan lackey looks back at her with infuriating Vulcan dispassion, "It sounds as if you are familiar with the contagion."
She pictures classified images of green flesh wrapped around grey metal, of projections of total galactic saturation, of the nightmare of her beloved Rihan in ashes. "Only in the sense that a person is familiar with mortality," she says with cold Romulan precision as the viewscreen snaps off.
As the Quarantine Fleet prepares for the jump to warp; SubAdmiral Sihina considers the ancient Sihina-line Honour blade at her side for a long moment. No one would blame her for taking the honourable and quick way out. It would perhaps carry more weight with the Senate than her live protestations of futility.
She slowly takes her grip from the hilt. No. Someone must protect her officers and crew from retribution… and that someone must be her. Only she can make that sacrifice.
--------------------------
Captain Ka'Sharren sits in her ready room, staring out her window at the vastness of space and the seeming innocuousness of Dunwich IV. "Captain's Log, USS Enterprise, 21130.8"
The Captain considers how only a short time ago she was anticipating a visit, almost a vacation, to an Andorian colony. And now this... "We have secured from Red Alert, are are now orbiting the Dunwich IV colony with the pride of Starfleet alongside. The Sarek, the Kumari, the Courageous, the Cheron, the Challorn, and others are in orbit. There is clearly nothing that can be done for the colonists, but we are loathe to forsake the equipment that could tell the tale of terror of the last days of these poor people. Whatever did this, whatever…"
The blue woman's comm badge beeps and her antennae swivel towards it in surprise, her hand following soon after. "Ka'sharren here"
It is Commander Ajam, "Ma'am! We're are receiving a communication from the Planet…. You need to see this."
The Captain nods to no one in particular, "On my way"
She's out the door to her bridge in moments, settling in to her Captain's chair shortly afterwards, Commander Ajam stepping out of it, eyes fixed on the screen.
The viewscreen is on… but no one fills it. It simply shows the image of one of Dunwich IV's comm centres, though overlaid with the Mutaphage...
Ka'Sharren opens her mouth to ask what is going on, but closes it when a voice comes through the viewscreen, "...we live... " there is another long pause, and Ka'sharren can hear the room slowly breathe, each word is a breath in itself, each word is felt as much as it is heard, and each word feels as if it comes from a thousand throats, "...self hunger... though... Ulith self gone… through... Korlonia self gone… self live… always live...always satisfy...though... Franklin self gone…Federation Selves Futile…. self eternal...though Cheron self gone…Romulan selves futile…. Klingon selves futile...always hunger…Federation selves... will selves soon... Dunwich selves gone...Federation selves futile...Federation selves satiate selves... " the image winks out; though the sight, of writhing pulsating flesh, lives on in the mind's eye of everyone on Enterprise's bridge.
Captain Ka'Sharren is not as shocked as she should be, Lt-Commander Zardmaani's prediction, his "hunch" was right. There is an intelligence at work work. Something ancient, and alien and… altogether malevolent.
"Ma'am, incoming hail from Sarek," comes the Enterprise's comms officer, face pale but hands still as steady as a rock, "The hail is going out to the whole Fleet,"
The Image of the solid Vulcan T'lorel appears on the screen. "It would appear that the Romulan Admiral is right, Dunwich IV should be cauterized. For the good of the Federation."
The screen parts and another face appears on screen, "This must be a Romulan trick! They are trying to get us to destroy one of our own colonies," says Captain Ainsworth of USS Kumari, voice tinged with a hint of desperation and denial. Seeking comfort in a familiar enemy. She's killed one outpost but killing an entire colony is something else entirely.
The screen splits again and the thin angular face of Captain Thuir appears on screen, "I volunteer Challorn to execute General Order 24 on Dunwich IV. Challorn has done this before. We shall do it again." He looks down at his hands for a moment, once stained with blood, always stained with blood.
Captain Ainsworth speaks again, "Kumari should commit the deed. We killed Korlonia II. We can excise this cancer on Dunwhich as well." she seems almost ashamed at her earlier balking.
Captain Ka'Sharren shakes her head. "As Captain of the Flagship and the most capable unit in the system. I am taking command of the Fleet." Thus taking command of the decision. If anyone will be to blame for destroying Dunwich and any remaining of the twenty thousand colonists who miraculously remain uninfected, it will be her.
Captain Victoria Eaton of Courageous is the first to reply. "According to proper regulations, I am accepting your Authority, Captain Ka'Sharren."
The rest of the Captains fall into line soon after, if she wants all the responsibility for killing a world, so be it. She is the Enterprise's captain after all. And Flagship status aside, the name Enterprise alone carries a lot of informal weight.
Ka'Sharren wastes no time, "As the senior vessel here, we WILL be conducting General Order 24 on Dunwich IV. My Tactical officer is drawing up plans to scour the world of life." long association and loyal service means that Captain Ka'Sharren knows that Samhaya Mrr'Shan is busy at work without needing to check with her. "I will not force any other officer or ship to take part. However if any Captain would like to help shoulder the burden, they may volunteer by contacting my Tactical officer."
The screen winks off and Enterprise's Captain lets out a long breath as Commander Ajam pats her on the back. "We are behind you all the way ma'am. Every officer will do their duty."
Commander Ajam reaches for some other bit of comfort to provide to her Captain, and Lieutenant Stol Provides it, "The needs of the Many outweighs the needs of the Few."
At the rear of the bridge Lt-Commander Mrr'shan speaks up, voice quiet, "Ma'am. I have a firing plan laid in, every other ship in the fleet with the exception of Dryad has volunteered."
Captain Ka'Sharren rises to her feet, carefully thinking through each motion and word, forcing herself not to shake or shudder, "Very well then Commander. You may fire when ready."
Captain Ka'Sharren watches as orange lances leap out from her vessel and stab at the colony, she watches as from elsewhere in orbit of the planet other lances of light and streaks of red impact the planet. Scourging, cauterizing, killing flesh and metal.
Captain Ka'sharren even continues to watch, even through the breathy, haunting, and triumphant taunting hails of the Mutaphage; as her ship and those like her murder a Federation world for the Needs of the Many.
You mean they do not want to risk her cover.
And in regards to the importance of the ship, considering the rituals that they like and how the ship is also basically the only Starfleet vesel that deal them crushing defeats, and showcased themself to be dangerous and trickery under Spok and Kirk, why it is almost like it is honorable.
PS, Ka'Sharren DO NOT SIT ON ANY EMPTY CHAIRS ON A DAISE! OR WHERE A SWORD LAYS!
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- Location
- Germany
I have to admit I didn't expect that species to survive.
Maybe I should read more Star Trek and less 40k, but a non-sentient species being a threat to colonists sounds like something to be solved by Ship-to-Ground weapons.
UbeOne
Daydreaming CPU
- Location
- Philippines
- Pronouns
- She/Her
USS Sarek has done a lot of that already.
AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The Orbital Bombardment of populated areas is for peaceful purposes only!
UbeOne
Daydreaming CPU
- Location
- Philippines
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Indeed, everything T'Lorel has done is for peacekeeping purposes.
AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Which is the best part, everything she does is eminently logical and ends up defusing the situation. T'lorel is an alchemist that transmutes Orbital Strikes to Diplomatic sitdowns
cokerpilot
Here comes the rain.
The only problem I can see with this would be when it turns out to be oddly prophetic about the mention of the Breen who I am pretty sure Starfleet haven't met or even know about yet.
Omake - Lt Usha & How Starfleet Stopped the LCS - anon_user
Jenny
anonymous user
- Location
- maryland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Lt. Usha Explains Modular Ship Design
Stardate 20770.8, Starfleet Command Cafeteria, Earth
"So! I know you can't disclose anything, but do you finally know what happened with the Cheron?" Lieutenant Anne Usha asks her friend in Starfleet Intelligence, sitting down to lunch.
"Officially, it's just an accident, with no cause yet established. We don't want to alarm anyone, of course." Lieutenant Alexandria Kuznetsova smiles as she takes her seat.
"Unofficially? I mean, this wasn't just an accident, was it?"
"Well, what do you think?"
"Alright, let me play intelligence analyst here. It's the Romulans, right? I mean, we're talking about a Vulcan ship, in the Vulcan system, named after the Battle of Cheron. That's got to be a prime target for the Romulans, right?"
"You'd think that."
"And you?"
"Maybe... but Romulan actions almost always are part of some larger game, destroying a single ship like this serves little purpose." She spoons up a bit of her soup, makes a face. "It's too petty on its own."
"I dunno, you don't think the Romulans can do petty? I mean, didn't they go off into exile for being on the losing side of a philosophical debate?"
"That's... way oversimplified." Alexandria sips her iced tea. "Still, it certainly could be connected with the battle at Tre... bek?"
"And what do you think that was about, anyway? Ramirez thinks they were testing out a new warbird -"
"Classified, sorry."
Anne nods. She takes a bite of her sandwich. "Look, if you don't tell us what it's like, we can't design around it. But I guess that decision's out of your hands?"
"Yeah. Anyways, back to the Cheron."
"Which was attacked by the Romulans as part of some larger scheme, you think?"
"Unless someone else is trying to make it look like the Romulans hit the Cheron," Alexandria says, leaning forward.
"Hmm, let me guess." Anne's dubious. Still, she humors her friend, leans forward herself: "Klingons?"
"Could be, but it's not their style."
"Gorn?"
"They haven't been active since Cestus III, but that doesn't rule them out, true."
"Your Gamma Quadrant changelings?"
"Now you're just teasing me." Alexandria leans back. "So, what is ONA doing about the Romulans?"
Anne grins. She'll never pass up a chance to talk about her work ... and Alexandria actually puts up with her. "Well, we've been working on something... for quite a while, actually. Mid-sized ship, something that can take on a warbird in an even fight and support our bigger ships in fleet battles. So, we've got our current light cruiser, the Constellation class." She reaches over and grabs Alexandria's bowl of mostly-uneaten soup while her friend's busy working on her salad.
"Muh soup!" Alexandria's dismayed exclamation sprays bits of orange lettuce and purple dressing over the table.
"You weren't enjoying it anyway. Anyways, the Constellation class. Think of it as this soup. She does a few things, none of them exceptionally. Bit of combat capability, bit of speed, bit of a science suite. We've wanted a replacement for a while, here at ONA."
"Okay..."
"So we're going to build the new one a bit bigger. Fill the bowl up." Anne adds some crackers. "Make her faster, make her tougher, give her a more powerful warp core, make her a better cruiser."
"Alright, seems reasonable enough."
"Thing is, word gets around of our little project, and everyone here puts in their suggestions. More this, more that..." More crackers go in, followed by a piece of bread, then half of Alexandria's cookie, up until the soup starts to overflow. "Like this. Pretty soon, she's too big."
"Get a bigger bowl?"
"A bigger berth to build the ship, sure. Except we don't have bigger berths - or rather we do, but we're saving them for our main ships. You know, the explorers?"
Kuznetsova nods.
"Alright. So, that's the initial problem. But there's more, too. See, Fleet Ops chimes in. This was before Tregh'bak, so they said they didn't really want a new combat ship - apparently, they don't believe in your Gamma Quadrant threat any more than I do."
"Nobody's proved I'm wrong on that yet." Kuznetsova takes a sip of her iced tea. "Okay, so the problem is that your new ship design isn't needed?"
"Not quite. More that they want something more, something different. Better science capabilities, especially. Peace dividend, Kahurangi's Research Pivot, you get the idea. Design's overloaded as is, though. Some people wanted to give up, just run Reliants forever. But I had a solution!"
"Oh?"
"See, we take the extra capabilities - the science suite, the shields, the weapons systems - toned down to a more reasonable scale - and we put them into a pod, stick it above the main hull." Usha mashes together bread, crackers, cookie bits, and lentils into a vaguely pod-shaped mass, which she pushes to the center of the soup.
Kuznetsova nods absently, focused on a tomato that keeps slipping away from her fork.
"And, like, you can put different stuff in the pod depending on the mission. We have a cruiser design ready to duel with the Romulans if we need it, and a science ship design that'll outstrip an Oberth."
"Sounds alright, then."
"You'd think ... except people got over-optimistic. Figured you could put a lot of mass up in that pod, get yourself a supership. Even got as far as a formal project, letter-code and all, before Tezeh actually worked the numbers and put a stop to things."
"Ah. So, scale back?"
"So, scale back. Except the whole concept's tainted now. A directive's gone out - no more mission pods. Stick to the tried-and-true. Miranda-style rollbars. Meaning most of the modularity's gone - instead of a full-on pod being swapped out, you're only swapping out a small superstructure, so the dedicated science ship needs a lot more space in the actual saucer changed, so there's different power coupling arrangements needed, it's harder to make modules plug-and-play, there's less room for the shuttlebay - which means we had to step back on probe integration, there's no real point to blue-and-gold crews, we had to cut back on impulse dash speed..." Anne trails off, seeing her friend's eyes glazing over.
"So..."
"So the short of it is, you can't just swap between missions any more. It takes a lot more yard time to swap the latest designs we're looking at from combat to science. It's just... they missed the point."
"I thought the point was a ship to match the Romulans."
"It was. Um. Is. If we compare it to a Romulan warbird..." Usha looks at the remains of Alexandria's lunch, then at her own tray. "Hm. Let me get another tray of food, and maybe we can sort this out..."
Stardate 20770.8, Starfleet Command Cafeteria, Earth
"So! I know you can't disclose anything, but do you finally know what happened with the Cheron?" Lieutenant Anne Usha asks her friend in Starfleet Intelligence, sitting down to lunch.
"Officially, it's just an accident, with no cause yet established. We don't want to alarm anyone, of course." Lieutenant Alexandria Kuznetsova smiles as she takes her seat.
"Unofficially? I mean, this wasn't just an accident, was it?"
"Well, what do you think?"
"Alright, let me play intelligence analyst here. It's the Romulans, right? I mean, we're talking about a Vulcan ship, in the Vulcan system, named after the Battle of Cheron. That's got to be a prime target for the Romulans, right?"
"You'd think that."
"And you?"
"Maybe... but Romulan actions almost always are part of some larger game, destroying a single ship like this serves little purpose." She spoons up a bit of her soup, makes a face. "It's too petty on its own."
"I dunno, you don't think the Romulans can do petty? I mean, didn't they go off into exile for being on the losing side of a philosophical debate?"
"That's... way oversimplified." Alexandria sips her iced tea. "Still, it certainly could be connected with the battle at Tre... bek?"
"And what do you think that was about, anyway? Ramirez thinks they were testing out a new warbird -"
"Classified, sorry."
Anne nods. She takes a bite of her sandwich. "Look, if you don't tell us what it's like, we can't design around it. But I guess that decision's out of your hands?"
"Yeah. Anyways, back to the Cheron."
"Which was attacked by the Romulans as part of some larger scheme, you think?"
"Unless someone else is trying to make it look like the Romulans hit the Cheron," Alexandria says, leaning forward.
"Hmm, let me guess." Anne's dubious. Still, she humors her friend, leans forward herself: "Klingons?"
"Could be, but it's not their style."
"Gorn?"
"They haven't been active since Cestus III, but that doesn't rule them out, true."
"Your Gamma Quadrant changelings?"
"Now you're just teasing me." Alexandria leans back. "So, what is ONA doing about the Romulans?"
Anne grins. She'll never pass up a chance to talk about her work ... and Alexandria actually puts up with her. "Well, we've been working on something... for quite a while, actually. Mid-sized ship, something that can take on a warbird in an even fight and support our bigger ships in fleet battles. So, we've got our current light cruiser, the Constellation class." She reaches over and grabs Alexandria's bowl of mostly-uneaten soup while her friend's busy working on her salad.
"Muh soup!" Alexandria's dismayed exclamation sprays bits of orange lettuce and purple dressing over the table.
"You weren't enjoying it anyway. Anyways, the Constellation class. Think of it as this soup. She does a few things, none of them exceptionally. Bit of combat capability, bit of speed, bit of a science suite. We've wanted a replacement for a while, here at ONA."
"Okay..."
"So we're going to build the new one a bit bigger. Fill the bowl up." Anne adds some crackers. "Make her faster, make her tougher, give her a more powerful warp core, make her a better cruiser."
"Alright, seems reasonable enough."
"Thing is, word gets around of our little project, and everyone here puts in their suggestions. More this, more that..." More crackers go in, followed by a piece of bread, then half of Alexandria's cookie, up until the soup starts to overflow. "Like this. Pretty soon, she's too big."
"Get a bigger bowl?"
"A bigger berth to build the ship, sure. Except we don't have bigger berths - or rather we do, but we're saving them for our main ships. You know, the explorers?"
Kuznetsova nods.
"Alright. So, that's the initial problem. But there's more, too. See, Fleet Ops chimes in. This was before Tregh'bak, so they said they didn't really want a new combat ship - apparently, they don't believe in your Gamma Quadrant threat any more than I do."
"Nobody's proved I'm wrong on that yet." Kuznetsova takes a sip of her iced tea. "Okay, so the problem is that your new ship design isn't needed?"
"Not quite. More that they want something more, something different. Better science capabilities, especially. Peace dividend, Kahurangi's Research Pivot, you get the idea. Design's overloaded as is, though. Some people wanted to give up, just run Reliants forever. But I had a solution!"
"Oh?"
"See, we take the extra capabilities - the science suite, the shields, the weapons systems - toned down to a more reasonable scale - and we put them into a pod, stick it above the main hull." Usha mashes together bread, crackers, cookie bits, and lentils into a vaguely pod-shaped mass, which she pushes to the center of the soup.
Kuznetsova nods absently, focused on a tomato that keeps slipping away from her fork.
"And, like, you can put different stuff in the pod depending on the mission. We have a cruiser design ready to duel with the Romulans if we need it, and a science ship design that'll outstrip an Oberth."
"Sounds alright, then."
"You'd think ... except people got over-optimistic. Figured you could put a lot of mass up in that pod, get yourself a supership. Even got as far as a formal project, letter-code and all, before Tezeh actually worked the numbers and put a stop to things."
"Ah. So, scale back?"
"So, scale back. Except the whole concept's tainted now. A directive's gone out - no more mission pods. Stick to the tried-and-true. Miranda-style rollbars. Meaning most of the modularity's gone - instead of a full-on pod being swapped out, you're only swapping out a small superstructure, so the dedicated science ship needs a lot more space in the actual saucer changed, so there's different power coupling arrangements needed, it's harder to make modules plug-and-play, there's less room for the shuttlebay - which means we had to step back on probe integration, there's no real point to blue-and-gold crews, we had to cut back on impulse dash speed..." Anne trails off, seeing her friend's eyes glazing over.
"So..."
"So the short of it is, you can't just swap between missions any more. It takes a lot more yard time to swap the latest designs we're looking at from combat to science. It's just... they missed the point."
"I thought the point was a ship to match the Romulans."
"It was. Um. Is. If we compare it to a Romulan warbird..." Usha looks at the remains of Alexandria's lunch, then at her own tray. "Hm. Let me get another tray of food, and maybe we can sort this out..."
Last edited:
- Location
- Australia
Alternate Title: Anna and Usha's Unintended Vow of Involuntary Dieting
- Location
- Australia
Alright, looks like no one has any instructions to speak of.
*ticks box of plausible deniability*
And on with the show!
*ticks box of plausible deniability*
And on with the show!
Well we could use one of Surak Student, maybe that S'Task fellow.
Well for some of us, the update came while we were asleep.... That said, I suppose there isn't much to say. The trouble with picking a cowboy captain who gets things done is that ka'Sharren is going to do what she damn well thinks is necessary and appropriate no matter what we do or don't say.
AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
It's like having Kirk in your corner. At some point you just have to sit back and let the (wo)man work.
- Location
- Wollongong, Australia
I don't know about everyone else, but I was tempted to remind Ka'Sharren of Article 14, Subsection 31. Or, more simply, tell her to Go Nuts if they try to pull something. This way though, we can give her a pat on the back afterwards and really blow her mind out of the water. Assuming something goes wrong.
Is anyone here really expecting nothing to?
"I'm not exactly 100% sure how seducing a romulan official is supposed to not start an interstellar incident, but if you insist..."
Last edited:
2303.Q4.2 - Down the Rabbit Hole
- Location
- Australia
Captain's Log, USS Enterprise, Stardate 21313.8
We are on approach to the planet Romulus, trailing this heavy warbird through subspace. What we can expect when we get there, we do not know. We are in contact with several branches of Starfleet Command constantly right now. Rear Admiral Shey ch'Tharvasse, Director of Starfleet Intelligence, paid me a personal hail, with many orders on things that we must take care to do while in Romulan space. It was followed some fifteen minutes later by a communique from Admiral Kahuranagi herself, giving me explicit permission to ignore any order from Starfleet Intelligence that might endanger my mission.
Always nice to know that the entire fleet brass is watching, no pressure or anything.
Computer, End Log
-
Captain ka'Sharren straightens her uniform reflexively and steps forth from her ready room and back out onto the bridge of the Enterprise. She takes a moment, lets the organised ferocity of a well-trained bridge crew in a crisis wash over her. All the senior officers are present, including the Senator sitting by the communications specialist. Even the Chief Engineer himself up from the bowels of the ship. Commander Ajam spots her superior right away and makes her way over.
"Commander, anything to report?"
"Lieutenant-Commander Zaardmani has completed a full set of analysis on that heavy warbird," explains Ajam, and she hands Nash a small data pad.
-
Heavy Warbird 2301-2360 [500m, 2.7m t]
-
"She is powerful, but I'd still take an Excelsior against her in a fight," continues Commander Ajam.
"Yes... You'll know you've been in a fight though," replies Nash.
"Yes, Captain."
Nash walks on and approaches her chief medical officer, who is talking with her ops officer and the chief engineer, the latter of which is steadily turning colours. "It's mad!" she hears him saying as she nears. "You can't simply vent plasma into inhabited frames!"
"Do you want to go over the logs of what this thing does to flesh?" asks the Orion doctor Asurva. "Because, let me tell you, immersion in plasma sounds like drifting off in your sleep compared to being reworked into biomechanical circuitry while still alive." Even the chief engineer shudders at that.
"Officers, what have we got?" asks Nash. "New policy from Starfleet?"
"No, no," says Asurva slowly.
"Have you heard this madness?" demands the engineer. "Venting EPS conduits into our own crew? It's murder!"
Nash glances at Asurva quizzically. She bites her lip and hesitates a moment, but eventually speaks up. "You see, among the most recent batch of updates, Starfleet Medical keeps revising the average time taken to infect a ship like what happened to the Franklin downward. And they mention that the plasma in the EPS conduits works effectively at burning out the Biophage's biological matter. So if I was thinking it may be possible, if we have an infection beginning in a given section of the ship..."
"Look into what it would take to set up, Chief," orders ka'Sharren. It's gently phrased, but there is stern steel in her tone. "It's grisly, but having something like that up our sleeves may be the difference in a tight spot."
"... aye, Captain," he says slowly. "Gotta understand, though, whole damn system is designed to keep the plasma in not out."
"Thank you, chief," says Nash with finality. The engineer swallows down his words and gives another, 'aye, captain', and makes his way back to the turbolift.
Lieutenant-Commander Samhaya Mrr'shan grimaces as the engineer leaves. "It does seem very extreme. I think the threat is up there but there's got to be a better option than immolating parts of our own ships, surely?"
"And if you come up with any of them, let me know, Sam," replies the Captain. "Until then, I need something better than freaked out expressions and stern language. If EPS conduit venting gives me that, then that's what I've got." Nash turns away and looks to the Vulcan at conn. "Mister Stol, time to Romulus?" she demands crisply.
"Captain, arrival in ten minutes."
Nash turns and grins at her old comrade. "Romulus, hey? Didn't expect to be seeing this except at the head of an armada."
"Me neither," admits the Caitian.
"Over here, Lieutenant Leaniss," orders Nash.
The willowy blue-tinted Amarki strides across the bridge gracefully. "Yes, Captain?" she says with a polished political tone.
Nash has to grin inwardly at that. Perfectly formal in public, the woman will still call her 'wifey' in a teasing tone in private. "What do we expect from the Romulans when we get there?"
"Honestly, Captain? I've read everything we have on them, I've consulted with Intelligence's and Tactical's best people, I've talked to the Vulcans...," she trails off and finally shrugs. "No one has any clue. They'll probably beam us into the bowels of a military station, or maybe a Tal Shiar facility for a briefing. They'll have to know that even if they get a hold of a senior officer or two, the Enterprise can do tremendous damage selling herself dearly in orbit, so we don't expect funny business here."
"Honestly, we're all just surprised that we're being brought to Romulus," adds Lt-Cdr Samhaya. "I'd have expected some quiet facility near the Neutral Zone."
Leaniss nods. "We think it's a sign of how seriously the Romulans are treating this."
"Right," says Nash with a sigh. "Well, if we don't know what's going to happen, and can't really guess, only one option." She gives them both a dazzling grin. "Gotta ride it out."
The final minutes passed and the USS Enterprise drops out of warp on approach to the second planet of the Romulan system: the infamous planet Romulus, home of a thousand conspiracies. Implacable foe of Starfleet from the earliest moments. The planet is beautiful from orbit in that blue marble way of lush planets, a deceptive look. The orbit is crowded with warships and civilian freighters and a number of station platforms. The nighttime side of the planet is bright with the conurbated lights of cities. Nash ka'Sharren sits in her command chair and gives herself a moment to prepare.
"Sensors are picking up a second Heavy Warbird in orbit around Romulus," reports Zaardmani from the Science consoles. "Appears to be the one Sarek and Courageous fought. There are a dozen D7s and Birds of Prey in orbit as well, plus a large starbase, and a shipyard, with a half finished Heavy Warbird and three Birds of Prey. Many civilian vessels as well. Very many, in fact. More than I'd expect. I have many lifesigns detected on a number of them. Perhaps makeshfit colony ships."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," acknowledges ka'Sharren.
"Incoming transmission from the Devoras, Captain," the Comms officer calls.
"On screen."
The Romulan Commander appears once more on the screen. "Captain ka'Sharren," the officer begins.
"Commander Velin."
"Follow us into orbit," the Romulan states, brows furrowed. "Be advised that if at any point you power weapons, you will be targeted and destroyed within moments. Welcome to Romulus." She begins to reach for a control in her chair, but pauses, giving Nash a little sideways glance out of the corner of her eyes. "Clean up. Find your dress uniform." The viewscreen reverts to the planet.
"Fashion advice from a Romulan," sighs Nash, looking up at her tactical officer. "What has my life come to?" She shakes her head as Samhaya suppresses an unprofessional snicker. "Well, Commander Ajam, you have the bridge."
"Will you be in your Ready Room, Captain?" asks the first officer.
"I'll be in my wardrobe," says Nash. "If the Tal Shiar want to see what the latest trend in Starfleet dress uniforms is, well, they've shown us their planet, the least I can do is dress appropriately for my interrogation."
Ten minutes later and Nash ka'Sharren is in the transporter room as a Chief Petty Officer smoothly works the controls. Lieutenant Leaniss is with her, as well as Zaardmani and Doctor Asurva, the latter two of whom were requested by position by the Romulans. "You have the coordinates, Chief?" asks Nash as she straightens up on the pad.
"Yes, Captain," informs the enlisted man. "Correspond to a relatively non descript building just outside the capital."
"Well, just outside the Capital," says Nash with a grin. "I'm moving up in the world. Commence, chief."
There is a flash and a dazzling array of lights, and a few moments later, a stream of matter broken down into its constituent energy is winging its way to the ground. When the transporter effect clears and eyes adjust to the dim light, the Starfleet Captain and her officers find themselves face to face with a Tal Shiar officer, Commander Velin, an Admiral, and a very finely dressed older gentleman.
"Captain Nash ka'Sharren of the USS Enterprise," stated the Tal Shiar officer, face pinched, like merely being so near to an unshackled Starfleet officer made him queasy. "Follow us. We are taking a turbolift trip into the capital."
"Now I'm actually going to be in the Capital, I really am moving up in the world," quips Nash to her officers, but she moves to follow. "So tell me," she directs at the Tal Shiar officer as they settle into a nondescript carriage. "Where are we off to? Tal Shiar interrogation room? Medical dissection? Motel room on the outskirts of town? I haven't been in one of those since my early Academy years."
The Romulans all simply look at her. Finally, Commander Velin speaks up with, "I thought I told you to get your dress uniform?"
Nash recoils and then looks down at herself. "I did, this is it."
Velin's eyes trace up and down. After a moment she looks back towards the door. "Oh dear."
The Tal Shiar officer all but openly snarls, then turns to Nash. "When we get to our destination," he begins, words cold and clipped like he were shearing them out of ice blocks. "You will be respectful. You will speak only when spoken to. You w-"
"Listen, my fine grey-hearted friend," interrupts Nash, pointing a finger. "You requested me. I'm not going to bend the knee to some Tal Shiar brass when I'm here at your behest."
The Tal Shiar officer's eyes go wide, his nostrils flare. It's creepy to see in something that still resembles a Vulcan. "I most certainly did not invite you here."
"Also, you are not here to meet the Tal Shiar," explains Velin. "Perhaps unfortunately for you."
"Then who are we meeting?" asks Nash.
The turbolift finally comes to a halt and the doors open. The Romulans step out and usher the Starfleet officers forward, through a phalanx of immaculately presented guards with dangerous looking disruptors. They are in a large auditorium, marble everywhere, with many empty long desks behind them, and a raised dais with a panel of several distinguished Romulans ahead of them. On the marble floor Nash can recognise an artfully worked depiction of the Neutral Zone. Set aside in the senate floor is one more empty chair, this one with an exquisitely worked sword laying across its seat.
The finely dressed Romulan who had come with them, yet said nothing, now breaks his silence. "Your honours, I have brought the requested officers. Captain Nash ka'Sharren of the Starfleet starship, USS Enterprise. Also her chief science, medical, and political officers." He turns back to Nash ka'Sharren.
"Excellent," the Romulan in the center position on the panel declares. "They may approach."
The aide turns back to Nash and says in a hushed voice, "Captain, you are presented to the Romulan Continuing Committee. You may approach the Dais."
Nash silently mouths half a dozen Andorian swear words before she recovers enough wit to take the first step.
"Captain ka'Sharren," the man in the centre says. "You are familiar with The Inflictor. Or rather, I believe Starfleet knows it as the Biophage?"
--- TBC ---
We are on approach to the planet Romulus, trailing this heavy warbird through subspace. What we can expect when we get there, we do not know. We are in contact with several branches of Starfleet Command constantly right now. Rear Admiral Shey ch'Tharvasse, Director of Starfleet Intelligence, paid me a personal hail, with many orders on things that we must take care to do while in Romulan space. It was followed some fifteen minutes later by a communique from Admiral Kahuranagi herself, giving me explicit permission to ignore any order from Starfleet Intelligence that might endanger my mission.
Always nice to know that the entire fleet brass is watching, no pressure or anything.
Computer, End Log
-
Captain ka'Sharren straightens her uniform reflexively and steps forth from her ready room and back out onto the bridge of the Enterprise. She takes a moment, lets the organised ferocity of a well-trained bridge crew in a crisis wash over her. All the senior officers are present, including the Senator sitting by the communications specialist. Even the Chief Engineer himself up from the bowels of the ship. Commander Ajam spots her superior right away and makes her way over.
"Commander, anything to report?"
"Lieutenant-Commander Zaardmani has completed a full set of analysis on that heavy warbird," explains Ajam, and she hands Nash a small data pad.
-
Heavy Warbird 2301-2360 [500m, 2.7m t]
C6 S3 H3 L6 P5 D6 Cloak Yes
Cost[270br, 220sr, 4 Years], Crew [O-7, E-7, T-5]
Cost[270br, 220sr, 4 Years], Crew [O-7, E-7, T-5]
-
"She is powerful, but I'd still take an Excelsior against her in a fight," continues Commander Ajam.
"Yes... You'll know you've been in a fight though," replies Nash.
"Yes, Captain."
Nash walks on and approaches her chief medical officer, who is talking with her ops officer and the chief engineer, the latter of which is steadily turning colours. "It's mad!" she hears him saying as she nears. "You can't simply vent plasma into inhabited frames!"
"Do you want to go over the logs of what this thing does to flesh?" asks the Orion doctor Asurva. "Because, let me tell you, immersion in plasma sounds like drifting off in your sleep compared to being reworked into biomechanical circuitry while still alive." Even the chief engineer shudders at that.
"Officers, what have we got?" asks Nash. "New policy from Starfleet?"
"No, no," says Asurva slowly.
"Have you heard this madness?" demands the engineer. "Venting EPS conduits into our own crew? It's murder!"
Nash glances at Asurva quizzically. She bites her lip and hesitates a moment, but eventually speaks up. "You see, among the most recent batch of updates, Starfleet Medical keeps revising the average time taken to infect a ship like what happened to the Franklin downward. And they mention that the plasma in the EPS conduits works effectively at burning out the Biophage's biological matter. So if I was thinking it may be possible, if we have an infection beginning in a given section of the ship..."
"Look into what it would take to set up, Chief," orders ka'Sharren. It's gently phrased, but there is stern steel in her tone. "It's grisly, but having something like that up our sleeves may be the difference in a tight spot."
"... aye, Captain," he says slowly. "Gotta understand, though, whole damn system is designed to keep the plasma in not out."
"Thank you, chief," says Nash with finality. The engineer swallows down his words and gives another, 'aye, captain', and makes his way back to the turbolift.
Lieutenant-Commander Samhaya Mrr'shan grimaces as the engineer leaves. "It does seem very extreme. I think the threat is up there but there's got to be a better option than immolating parts of our own ships, surely?"
"And if you come up with any of them, let me know, Sam," replies the Captain. "Until then, I need something better than freaked out expressions and stern language. If EPS conduit venting gives me that, then that's what I've got." Nash turns away and looks to the Vulcan at conn. "Mister Stol, time to Romulus?" she demands crisply.
"Captain, arrival in ten minutes."
Nash turns and grins at her old comrade. "Romulus, hey? Didn't expect to be seeing this except at the head of an armada."
"Me neither," admits the Caitian.
"Over here, Lieutenant Leaniss," orders Nash.
The willowy blue-tinted Amarki strides across the bridge gracefully. "Yes, Captain?" she says with a polished political tone.
Nash has to grin inwardly at that. Perfectly formal in public, the woman will still call her 'wifey' in a teasing tone in private. "What do we expect from the Romulans when we get there?"
"Honestly, Captain? I've read everything we have on them, I've consulted with Intelligence's and Tactical's best people, I've talked to the Vulcans...," she trails off and finally shrugs. "No one has any clue. They'll probably beam us into the bowels of a military station, or maybe a Tal Shiar facility for a briefing. They'll have to know that even if they get a hold of a senior officer or two, the Enterprise can do tremendous damage selling herself dearly in orbit, so we don't expect funny business here."
"Honestly, we're all just surprised that we're being brought to Romulus," adds Lt-Cdr Samhaya. "I'd have expected some quiet facility near the Neutral Zone."
Leaniss nods. "We think it's a sign of how seriously the Romulans are treating this."
"Right," says Nash with a sigh. "Well, if we don't know what's going to happen, and can't really guess, only one option." She gives them both a dazzling grin. "Gotta ride it out."
The final minutes passed and the USS Enterprise drops out of warp on approach to the second planet of the Romulan system: the infamous planet Romulus, home of a thousand conspiracies. Implacable foe of Starfleet from the earliest moments. The planet is beautiful from orbit in that blue marble way of lush planets, a deceptive look. The orbit is crowded with warships and civilian freighters and a number of station platforms. The nighttime side of the planet is bright with the conurbated lights of cities. Nash ka'Sharren sits in her command chair and gives herself a moment to prepare.
"Sensors are picking up a second Heavy Warbird in orbit around Romulus," reports Zaardmani from the Science consoles. "Appears to be the one Sarek and Courageous fought. There are a dozen D7s and Birds of Prey in orbit as well, plus a large starbase, and a shipyard, with a half finished Heavy Warbird and three Birds of Prey. Many civilian vessels as well. Very many, in fact. More than I'd expect. I have many lifesigns detected on a number of them. Perhaps makeshfit colony ships."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," acknowledges ka'Sharren.
"Incoming transmission from the Devoras, Captain," the Comms officer calls.
"On screen."
The Romulan Commander appears once more on the screen. "Captain ka'Sharren," the officer begins.
"Commander Velin."
"Follow us into orbit," the Romulan states, brows furrowed. "Be advised that if at any point you power weapons, you will be targeted and destroyed within moments. Welcome to Romulus." She begins to reach for a control in her chair, but pauses, giving Nash a little sideways glance out of the corner of her eyes. "Clean up. Find your dress uniform." The viewscreen reverts to the planet.
"Fashion advice from a Romulan," sighs Nash, looking up at her tactical officer. "What has my life come to?" She shakes her head as Samhaya suppresses an unprofessional snicker. "Well, Commander Ajam, you have the bridge."
"Will you be in your Ready Room, Captain?" asks the first officer.
"I'll be in my wardrobe," says Nash. "If the Tal Shiar want to see what the latest trend in Starfleet dress uniforms is, well, they've shown us their planet, the least I can do is dress appropriately for my interrogation."
Ten minutes later and Nash ka'Sharren is in the transporter room as a Chief Petty Officer smoothly works the controls. Lieutenant Leaniss is with her, as well as Zaardmani and Doctor Asurva, the latter two of whom were requested by position by the Romulans. "You have the coordinates, Chief?" asks Nash as she straightens up on the pad.
"Yes, Captain," informs the enlisted man. "Correspond to a relatively non descript building just outside the capital."
"Well, just outside the Capital," says Nash with a grin. "I'm moving up in the world. Commence, chief."
There is a flash and a dazzling array of lights, and a few moments later, a stream of matter broken down into its constituent energy is winging its way to the ground. When the transporter effect clears and eyes adjust to the dim light, the Starfleet Captain and her officers find themselves face to face with a Tal Shiar officer, Commander Velin, an Admiral, and a very finely dressed older gentleman.
"Captain Nash ka'Sharren of the USS Enterprise," stated the Tal Shiar officer, face pinched, like merely being so near to an unshackled Starfleet officer made him queasy. "Follow us. We are taking a turbolift trip into the capital."
"Now I'm actually going to be in the Capital, I really am moving up in the world," quips Nash to her officers, but she moves to follow. "So tell me," she directs at the Tal Shiar officer as they settle into a nondescript carriage. "Where are we off to? Tal Shiar interrogation room? Medical dissection? Motel room on the outskirts of town? I haven't been in one of those since my early Academy years."
The Romulans all simply look at her. Finally, Commander Velin speaks up with, "I thought I told you to get your dress uniform?"
Nash recoils and then looks down at herself. "I did, this is it."
Velin's eyes trace up and down. After a moment she looks back towards the door. "Oh dear."
The Tal Shiar officer all but openly snarls, then turns to Nash. "When we get to our destination," he begins, words cold and clipped like he were shearing them out of ice blocks. "You will be respectful. You will speak only when spoken to. You w-"
"Listen, my fine grey-hearted friend," interrupts Nash, pointing a finger. "You requested me. I'm not going to bend the knee to some Tal Shiar brass when I'm here at your behest."
The Tal Shiar officer's eyes go wide, his nostrils flare. It's creepy to see in something that still resembles a Vulcan. "I most certainly did not invite you here."
"Also, you are not here to meet the Tal Shiar," explains Velin. "Perhaps unfortunately for you."
"Then who are we meeting?" asks Nash.
The turbolift finally comes to a halt and the doors open. The Romulans step out and usher the Starfleet officers forward, through a phalanx of immaculately presented guards with dangerous looking disruptors. They are in a large auditorium, marble everywhere, with many empty long desks behind them, and a raised dais with a panel of several distinguished Romulans ahead of them. On the marble floor Nash can recognise an artfully worked depiction of the Neutral Zone. Set aside in the senate floor is one more empty chair, this one with an exquisitely worked sword laying across its seat.
The finely dressed Romulan who had come with them, yet said nothing, now breaks his silence. "Your honours, I have brought the requested officers. Captain Nash ka'Sharren of the Starfleet starship, USS Enterprise. Also her chief science, medical, and political officers." He turns back to Nash ka'Sharren.
"Excellent," the Romulan in the center position on the panel declares. "They may approach."
The aide turns back to Nash and says in a hushed voice, "Captain, you are presented to the Romulan Continuing Committee. You may approach the Dais."
Nash silently mouths half a dozen Andorian swear words before she recovers enough wit to take the first step.
"Captain ka'Sharren," the man in the centre says. "You are familiar with The Inflictor. Or rather, I believe Starfleet knows it as the Biophage?"
--- TBC ---
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AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
This is going to end well.
I HAVE 100% CONFIDENCE IN YOU CAPTAIN NASH KA'SHARREN
EDIT: Also, I continue to ship it. > : v She deserves a nice Rihannsu girl. > : P
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So who are they meeting with?