Chapter Eight
USS Europa
Deck 7 - The Monico
The stars streaking past the forward-facing viewports of the ship’s lounge held no interest for Dominic Leone, who’d become inured to such sights growing up aboard starships and Starfleet outposts.
Leone stared instead at his glass of synthale held in both hands atop the table. He’d managed to get seven hours uninterrupted sleep after returning from the Amon ship, and was now spending his first free time since Europa had arrived in the Alanthal system.
He had come down from the incredible adrenaline high of the confrontation aboard the Amon ship, and was now feeling drained and lethargic, despite having slept like the dead. It was, Leone thought, not unlike the post-exam let-down after finals at the academy. His arm was mended, though it still ached, and Leone had steadfastly refused to take any of Dr. Reskos’ prescribed painkillers for the discomfort. The pain, he told himself, was a reminder of how dangerous a situation he’d got himself into.
An unused padd sat idly atop the table, discarded by Leone after several fitful starts on a letter to Teelis Tei. He wanted to write her to explain to his best friend all that had transpired since reporting aboard Europa. Leone had fought tooth and nail to earn a spot on the task force, even going toe-to-toe with his own fearsome grandmother, a high-ranking Starfleet admiral who’d wanted him to remain on Earth.
“Is this the legacy table?” Georgia Kirk’s voice startled Dom from his reverie with a sharp intake of breath.
“The what?” He blinked, then pushed back slightly in his chair gesturing to the seat across from him. “Oh, yes… please, by all means.”
Kirk settled into the offered chair. “Sure I’m not intruding?”
The corner of Leone’s mouth quirked in a hint of a smile. “It’s just me and my thoughts tonight, and an interruption right now would be welcome.”
Kirk took a sip of something that swirled electric blue in her glass. “Sounds like things got pretty intense aboard the Amon ship.”
Leone’s laugh was sharp, suggesting her assessment was a gross understatement. “I’m still not entirely sure what happened over there. I do know that we’re all lucky to be alive.” He raised his now lukewarm drink to his lips, taking a mouthful of the vaguely peaty synthale. “What did you call this… the ‘legacy’ table?”
She nodded, grinning. “Well, sure. A Leone and a Kirk? All we’d need is a Paris, Aspinall or Stiles to round out the set.”
Leone chuckled in reply. “Amen to that, Lieutenant.”
“Call me Georgia,” she offered. “Unless you’re one of those annoying-as-hell sticklers for protocol and tradition?”
“No, no,” he demured, raising his glass in a mock salute to his guest. “Please, call me Dominic, or Dom.”
“You must have had a similar academy experience to mine,” Kirk noted. “I swear that having a famous name is curse there. I actually considered changing my name prior to starting my plebe year.”
“Right?” Leone agreed wholeheartedly. “At least you didn’t have your mother and grandmother breathing down your neck the entire time, checking in with your instructors, even the damn academy commandant.”
“Fair enough,” Kirk countered. “But how many buildings on campus carry your family name? I had a dormitory, a lecture hall, and the whole damned Tactical Studies wing!”
Leone took another draught in response before he offered a slight grin. "None, actually. I may be a legacy, but the Leone name isn't anywhere close to elevated as Kirk. I don't honestly think it ever will be." Off of her look, he raised a hand, "Don't get me wrong, I like it that way."
She nodded agreeably. “Suffice to say we both bore heavy burdens during our academy years.”
Dom continued to smirk and then inexplicably began laughing aloud, setting down his glass to wipe at his eyes.
“What?” Kirk inquired, clearly at a loss.
Leone tapped his combadge. “Leone to Lieutenant Shanthi.”
After a moment’s pause, Shanthi’s voice responded. “Shanthi here, go ahead.”
Kirk’s eyes widened, and she covered her mouth to stifle her own fit of laughter.
“If you’re not too busy, Lieutenant, why don’t you join Kirk and I at the Legacy Table in The Monico. We’re exchanging tales of woe about our respective academy experiences.”
There was a discernible chuckle over the comm-link, followed by, “Sounds like something I’d know a bit about. I’ll be right there.”
Kirk took another drink after managing to catch her breath. “I can’t believe we forgot about the guy…”
“...whose mother is a Fleet Admiral,” Leone finished for her, prompting another round of mirth from the both of them.
From: Lieutenant Dominic Leone, USS Europa, Delta Quadrant
To: Lieutenant Teelis Tei, Utopia Planitia Yards, Sol System, Alpha Quadrant
I put those replicator patterns you gave me to very good use here in the Delta Quadrant. They might have had the opposite effect, though, because every time I get homesick and I want to have a little taste of San Francisco, the meal seems to remind me of how far away I am from you and everyone else. I hope that you're taking advantage of being so close to the source because sometimes it takes a situation like this to make you appreciate all the little things you took for granted.
And in that, I mean that I wasn't fully prepared to not have you around for a real time conversation via subspace. It's difficult, sometimes, to really go through the day without having that contact. I've tried my best to get back with my shipmates, but they're a poor substitute. I'm sure by now, your family's probably already moved in to their new home on Beta Zeta VI. When I left, they'd just completed the negotiations, so I'm left to wonder what the Tei family home looks like now.
As for me, things in the Delta Quadrant have been very busy. Thankfully so, because if they weren't, I'd be left with my own thoughts all the time. I've been reassigned to a new ship as the chief tactical officer and being thrust into the senior staff has had one of the steepest learning curves of my career. Definitely the most action I've ever seen in my life, and I'm including the three years aboard Farragut. I'd be more specific, but I'm not sure how much I can get away with on a personal message... even though you have the proper clearances, I'm going to err on the side of caution. Suffice to say that there's never a dull moment on this ship and with this crew. The missions we go on will make for some very interesting reading, I promise you.
Sincerely, Dominic.
The holographic environment in Europa’s holodeck was a perfect representation of Vice-Admiral T’Cirya’s office aboard Galaxy Station, and Lar’ragos’ image stood at attention in front of her desk.
“Commander Lar’ragos reporting in, sir. I’ve concluded preliminary negotiations with the Amon. The information garnered from this contact was in the brief I submitted to you via subspace yesterday, Admiral.”
She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement of his presence. "Please stand easy, Captain. Firstly, what is your current status?"
Lar’ragos assumed a parade-rest stance. “Europa is fully operational, and crew status is optimal sir. Former Captain Sandhurst is presently aboard, advising my chief engineer on how to reinstate our transwarp capabilities, and Lieutenant Verrik has been repatriated from the Amon.”
"It appears that you exceeded expectations, Captain. I am gratified that this mission did not result in the worst case scenario presented by Admiral Brotman," she tilted her head toward the mentioned admiral, seated in the corner of her office. "It is my hope that he comes to count on your success, as I do."
Lar’ragos glanced towards the other flag officer present before replying. “With respect to Admiral Brotman, it was a very near thing, sir. The Amon are at a delicate, very critical juncture in their species’ evolution. If we hadn’t deployed the rather… unorthodox Alpha Weapon you’d provided us, I likely wouldn’t be here speaking with you now.”
Brotman cleared his throat and turned his head away from the both of them, finding the bulkhead more interesting. T'Cirya's eyes shifted over toward Brotman before returning to Pava. "The admiral also felt that was a mistake, but you vindicated that decision very well. What is your current course?"
“I’ve brought Europa within real-time comms range to report in, but I’d rather not leave the Amon cube alone with Brigadier Gan’Louk and his expeditionary force any longer than necessary, sir.”
"Understood," T'Cirya replied. "Admiral Brotman has some questions for you regarding Commodore Sandhurst." She turned her attention toward the rear admiral, "Admiral?"
Brotman rose and gave Pava a clear inspection of his uniform and stance. "Yes, sir. Captain Lar'ragos, your brief mentioned that the… uh, Commodore is maintaining his status with the Amon, is that still the case?"
Lar’ragos’ expression grew taut. “I regret to report that Sandhurst has gone completely ‘native’, sirs. He appears inseparable from the Amon, and has even taken a wife, their BattleLeader Nestrala. If Dr. Reskos’ findings are accurate, separating Sandhurst from the life-essence energy that the Amon ingest would kill him.” He let out a short breath, seeming to hold his emotions in check before adding, “In my opinion, he’s been completely compromised.”
Rear Admiral Brotman shot a concerned glare at T'Cirya. "Sir, this is completely unacceptable. Sandhurst should be transferred to Galaxy Station and put under armed guard. Lar'ragos should alter course to arrive here immediately." He dropped the use of rank completely, showing his disdain outwardly now.
"I fail to see the logic in that request, Admiral," she replied evenly. "Were I to put that order to Captain Lar'ragos, he would most certainly disobey it. And I would agree with his reasoning."
Lar’ragos looked between the two senior officers, confusion and consternation evident on his features.
T'Cirya continued, "As Captain Lar'ragos has stated, Commodore Sandhurst is fully integrated into Amon society at a level that would require a response should we move to incarcerate him here. I see no outcome in direct confrontation with the Amon by provoking them with such a drastic measure. Given that he is willingly cooperating with Europa at the present time, I believe that it would be prudent to allow the captain to operate at his own discretion."
Brotman nearly sputtered. "Sandhurst is a danger to Europa, sir!"
"We require his assistance, Admiral," T'Cirya's tone chilled the room considerably. "I trust Captain Lar'ragos to ensure that his first duty is upheld."
Brotman frowned, but acquiesced with a muttered acknowledgement. He returned to his seat and seemingly lost interest in the rest of the conversation.
"Captain," she said, "what are your next steps?"
Lar’ragos paused a moment to consider his next words. “Sir, even with our highly unreliable transwarp drive functioning perfectly, it would be a twenty-six year round trip to the Large Magellanic Cloud at the cost of several times our storage capacity of fuel and replicatable matter stores. Sandhurst… or Zeischt as he prefers to be called, believes we may be able to goad the Skorrah into opening a transit portal at a place and time of our choosing that a battle group could then use to enter the LMC and engage their forces.”
T'Cirya tapped her desktop terminal to activate the display. "Have you determined the size of the force you require for such an engagement?"
“The larger the better, sir. The Skorrah have an installation of enormous size and power, plus a number of other warships besides that monstrous probe of theirs they used to destroy Ferenginar. The Klingon Expeditionary Force numbers some thirty ships, but we’d also need whatever Starfleet can scrape together from the closest Vanguard assets.”
"I may not be able to allocate appropriate resources and assets at your disposal, Captain," T'Cirya admitted as her fingers touched the control panel before her. "Starfleet transferred a mere twenty vessels with the second wave, and we have already distributed them as reinforcements to the intercept groups that formed under Admiral Jellico's command of the task force." She offered, "I can provide no more than a dozen starships."
Lar’ragos nodded soberly. “Then that will have to do, sir. Also… it needs to be said that this may well be a one-way trip. If we can avoid Voyager’s fate at the array that stranded them in the Delta Quadrant, we will, but I have no idea if we’d be able to decipher the technology aboard Shul’Nazhar in order to make a return trip possible. And that’s if we’re not forced to simply destroy the installation outright.”
T'Cirya lifted her eyes and stared into Pava's deeply. "The first duty, Captain. You know what is at stake, here." She waited patiently for his acknowledgement.
“Understood, sir. We’ll make it happen,” Lar’ragos offered without hesitation.
"Furthermore, you're authorized to ensure your victory under any means necessary," she said pointedly. "I'll leave the details of such up to you. In order for you to maintain command of this new task group, I'm noting in my log that you're to receive a battlefield promotion to the rank of Captain. For the duration."
Brotman's head turned on a swivel. He nearly jumped out of his seat, his jaw dropped wide open. "Sir! I must protest-"
T'Cirya's raised hand silenced him. "Admiral Brotman, one more word from you and I'll assign you as his subordinate. I will not tolerate any further interruptions. Do you understand?"
His response indicated he had no interest in going anywhere with Pava, and Brotman closed his open mouth and nodded. "Aye, sir," he said, then began to clench his teeth visibly.
"Captain Lar'ragos, do you require anything further from me?" asked T'Cirya, as though Brotman had said nothing.
Lar’ragos appeared almost startled when T’Cirya addressed him again, so surprised was he at the awesome responsibility that had just been thrust upon him. He’d genuinely believed another more senior commanding officer would lead the attack against the Skorrah.
“No… no, thank you, Admiral. I’ll hash out the logistical details with the appropriate personnel and have a preliminary action plan to you by fifteen-hundred hours tomorrow.”
T'Cirya rose from her desk and approached him. "I empathize with the burden I'm asking you to take on, Captain, but I feel… I believe that you will see the mission to its success, at all costs. Should you find yourself without the cooperation you need, please do not hesitate to use my name."
“Thank you, Admiral.” A small, troubling smile graced Lar’ragos’ lips for the briefest moment. “I shall return with my shield, or upon it.”
She drew her hand up into the Vulcan gesture. "I prefer with your shield, Captain. Live long, and prosper. T'Cirya, out."
The office surrounding Lar’ragos vanished to reveal the naked grid of a holodeck. He reached up to brush the three rank pips adorning his collar, fingering the spot that would soon hold a fourth. He uttered a long string of profanity in his native language, followed by a heavy sigh.
“I hate you so much right now, Donald,” he whispered as he walked towards the exit.
Kyana Prime
Krenim Imperium Space
Delta Quadrant
The Krenim homeworld was had been at war for two decades against the barbarous and expansionist Rilnar Horde, and as a result the Krenim Imperium had built up formidable defenses around their central planet.
The world of Kyana Prime, however, was a far-flung colony of the now waning imperium. Though prosperous and well populated, its defenses were nowhere near as potent. That had made Liana Ramirez’s task all the easier.
A burning Krenim defense cutter succumbed to its catastrophic wounds, imploding silently in the cold vacuum as the starship Masada thrust away at three-quarters impulse. The colony’s orbital defense grid over the Olerta continent had been decimated by the Defiant-class ship, which now escaped under the guise of her cloaking device, a technology as yet unknown to the Krenim.
“Secure from battle-stations,” Ramirez ordered, rising from the captain’s chair. “Set a return course to the Borg transwarp conduit and engage.” She shot a meaningful look to her android first officer. “Parlan, keep me apprised of any developments. I’ll see to our guests’ accommodations.”
Moments later, Ramirez entered the converted cargo bay, stepping through the Stygian blackness to where a shaft of bright white light held a middle-aged man floating in mid-air.
He was baseline humanoid, light-complected with a receding hairline. His skin was mottled with darker spots along his temples and scalp, giving him a similar appearance to either a Trill or Kriosian. However, two circular blister-like sensory organs, one on each temple, gave the members of the Krenim species a more concrete awareness of their place in the time/space continuum than most humanoids would ever experience.
It was this ‘sixth-sense’ that had gifted the Krenim a particularly rare relationship with space-time, an intrinsic understanding of those phenomena that in some ways defied scientific explanation. It was a sensitivity shared by only one other race they knew of, the now scattered remnants of the El-Aurian civilization.
“Who are you?” the man croaked, blinking futilely against the harsh glare of the shaft of light that encased him like a fly in amber.
“Think of me as an admirer,” Ramirez replied coyly. “An old friend of mine shared your keen interest in temporal mechanics. He believed you might be of use to me.”
“I… I don’t understand,” the man fumbled, still trying to come to terms with having been beamed out of his own home without warning.
“I’ve come an incredible distance to find you, Doctor, so that you could help me build a weapon,” Ramirez purred, her voice tinged with a predatory elation. “You remember, the one you’d designed to thwart the Rilnar.”
Annorax struggled feebly against the iron grip of the suspensor field. “It-- that monstrosity was never built! It would have been a nightmare, a doomsday weapon. I couldn’t be responsible for that, no matter how savage the Rilnar’s crimes.”
“We’ll be hunting much more dangerous quarry than the Rilnar, Doctor.”
“Never!” he shouted valiantly. “I refuse! I’ll tell you the same thing I told our military… I’d rather die than help you build such a horror!”
Ramirez bobbed her head thoughtfully before looking back up at where Annorax floated, immobilized. “I’d rather figured that might be your answer.”
She touched a finger to her wrist-mounted interface, calling two additional shafts of light into being. Suspended in one beam was Annorax’s beloved wife, and in the other, their young daughter.
“Will you prove so cavalier with their lives, I wonder?” she posited grimly.
Annorax stared, mouth agape, quite unprepared for this turn of events. Tears began to stream from his eyes as he realized for the first time just how far he might go to protect those he loved most… and given his expertise, at what price.
“Whatever your darkest, most tormented nightmares, Doctor Annorax, I am capable of that, and so much more,” Ramirez said softly. It was a promise writ in blood and anguish, and he knew in his bones she spoke the truth.
* * *​
Holodeck - USS Europa
Lar’ragos looked around at the thirteen other commanding officers of the respective ships that had been assigned to what was now named OPPLAN DISTANT SHORE. It was, he thought, the most desperate gambit Starfleet had authorized since the darkest days of the Dominion War.
The expressions on display around the shared holographic briefing room ran the gamut from skeptical, to sanguine, to openly hostile. Lar’ragos had his work cut out for him here, and he knew it.
“In conjunction with our battle group, we’ll have the support of Brigadier Gan’Louk’s expeditionary force. This will bring our operational strength to some forty-four ships, supporting the Amon cube.”
“Before we jump into tactical planning and logistics, I’d like to beg your indulgence for a moment.” Lar’ragos stood to address the assembled officers. “I didn’t ask for command of this task force, and I understand that there are any number of you here today who are far more qualified than I to do so. Regardless, Admiral T’Cirya has placed me in charge, and as I realize the responsibility that this places on me, I want to assure you that Europa will be the first ship into battle, and it will be the last to leave the field. Should it become necessary for a ship to remain behind in order to see the others safely back to our galaxy, it will be my ship and my crew that undertake that task.
“That being said, I choose to believe I’m leading this battle group because I have a reputation for getting the job done. To be blunt, that’s all that matters here. Protocol, policy, and our own individual egos are irrelevant to the task at hand. We are not going to the LMC to negotiate an armistice, nor will we be making any diplomatic overtures to the Skorrah. This species killed seven-hundred thousand Klingons on Kitumbra II, over two-million Federation citizens on Blue Horizon, and laid waste the Ferengi homeworld at a cost of nearly eight-billion souls.”
Lucian Ebnal, the legendarily acerbic captain of Venture, expounded, “There are those among us who believe that the admiral placed you in command because this is a one-way suicide mission.” Ebnal scrutinized Lar’ragos closely, awaiting his reaction to the inflammatory accusation.
For his part, Lar’ragos merely bobbed his head in assent. “That could well be true,” he confessed. “The Skorrah are enormously powerful, as their attacks throughout the Alpha and Beta Quadrants have proved. I can’t promise that even if we make it through a transit portal into the LMC that we won’t be immediately annihilated the instant we arrive.”
Ebnal snorted. “Aren’t you just a basket of summer flowers?”
Lar’ragos fixed the more senior commander with an incredulous look. “If you’d rather I blow sunshine up your ass, Captain, that can be arranged. Myself, I’d like to go into something like this with my eyes open.”
That comment received a smattering of laughter from around the table, and even garnered an amused head-nod of acknowledgement from Ebnal.
Captain Lockett of the starship Samarkand raised two fingers up until Lar’ragos gestured towards him. “What, if anything, do we know about the LMC? I mean… with the exception of Endurance in Andromeda and a brief extra-galactic jaunt by the Enterprise-D courtesy of the Q Continuum, no Starfleet vessel has been outside the Milky Way. Do we even know if our physics apply there?”
Commander S’Rael of the Amel-Saff thanked her Vulcan discipline for allowing her to avoid the look of abject disbelief that was Lockett’s due. “The physics we experience in our galaxy apply equally to the LMC, or anywhere else in the known universe for that matter, Captain. Where physics as we understand them break down is when we’re conceptualizing other realities, such as contiguous subspace domains or alternate dimensions.”
Lockett blushed fiercely, having realized his gaff. He tried to shrug nonchalantly with middling success. “Hey, so long as our phasers and torpedoes still work, I’m good.”
The commanding officer of the Defiant-class USS Gallant raised a hand, and spoke when Lar'ragos acknowledged her. "Sir," began Lieutenant Commander Pellew, "while I'm sure that we all appreciate your intent to lead the charge, Gallant stands ready to assist as a screening force for the fleet." In other words, she volunteered her ship to join the tip of the spear.
Lar’ragos inclined his head at her gesture. “It’s appreciated, Captain. My thanks.”
Cudgel's skipper rolled his eyes, but raised his hand, not wanting to be outdone. "I think Gallant's going to need some help with that duty, Captain," said Lieutenant Commander Norman. "We can lend a hand."
Captain Stanley Broadalbin muttered, "They say that corvette captains have to be a little touched in the head to assume command. I guess they're right." Sheffield One's words brought smirks to the lips of his fellow heavy cruiser captains. "Captain Lar'ragos, I'm sure that these younger captains are in awe of your methods, but I prefer to see this brilliant strategy before I go any further." He eyed Pellew and Norman briefly as he added, "This isn't my first time at the rodeo, see?"
Lar’ragos refused to take the bait, remaining implacable. “We’re still working out the details with the Amon and the Klingons, Captain. However, the broad-strokes of the plan are that we’ll follow the cube through a transition portal and attempt to disable Shul’Nazhar’s defenses, taking the station if possible, destroying it if necessary. We have a number of Marine elements, supported by three Special Missions Teams available to spearhead any boarding action required in order to take control of the station. If necessary, we can supplement those with our combined security personnel. Brigadier Gan’Louk’s force boasts over ten-thousand battle-hardened Klingon warriors added to the effort.”
Ascendant's Captain Endilev gestured with his open right hand and spoke without waiting to be called upon. "We're carrying two elements of the Twentieth MEU," he mentioned casually when speaking on the Marine Expeditionary Unit. "I imagine that their commanding officer would be very pleased to be included in any conflicts. They're quite hungry for battle." He wore a satisfied smirk upon his dark blue lips, and glanced around the room for signs of subtle reaction.
Lar’ragos smiled toothily. “Very good. I anticipate they’ll get their fair share on this mission, Captain.” He regarded the other officers. “We’ll also have a squadron of our new UWCV unmanned attack drones at our disposal for this assignment. They can help screen our cruisers from Skorrah counter-attack by their own vessels.”
Pellew smiled. "That will be of tremendous assistance, sir."
“Let’s cut the crap, shall we?” interjected Captain Arwen Duparc of the Istanbul. “A one-way mission aboard ships loaded for bear with Alpha Weapons. We’re talking about a mission of extermination, aren’t we? This is going to be an act of genocide.”
“Not necessarily,” Lar’ragos countered. “We don-”
“Please,” Duparc waved away his protests to the contrary. “Despite their crimes against our galaxy, I can’t justify annihilating an entire species for something that may be the work of a handful of their leaders.”
Lar’ragos’ voice dropped an octave. “The Skorrah aren’t after territory or power or wealth, Captain Duparc. We can’t negotiate with them, as they’ve never even attempted to open a dialogue with any of the systems they’ve attacked. To them, you and I are nothing but prey. We’re their food.”
Duparc broke eye contact first, her expression hard-set but her eyes gave voice to the conflict waging in her soul as her Starfleet ethics warred with her stone cold pragmatism.
“I can’t say for certain whether destroying the space station will mean killing all of the Skorrah. With Shul’Nazhar’s capabilities, they could have established colonies in any of several galaxies.” Lar’ragos briefly scanned the expressions of the other starship commanders present. “But if it comes down to it, us or them, I choose us.”
Commander Ban Uraad, the Deltan captain of the starship Carthage spoke without prompting. “Admiral T’Cirya placed you in charge because none of the rest of us… not even Captain Ebnal, could in good conscience wipe out an entire species.” The intensity of Uraad’s eyes practically burned a hole through Lar’ragos. His inference was as obvious as a supernova.
Lar’ragos held his gaze. “Am I supposed to dispute that, Captain? Under the circumstance, you may well find yourself grateful to have me leading the charge. That act, if it comes, won’t be your order to give, nor will it weigh as heavily on your conscience.”
“Cold comfort, that,” Uraad replied dourly.
“And should we refuse?” Duparc interjected.
“You’ll be relieved of duty by the admiral, and your executive officer will take your place,” Lar’ragos responded without missing a beat.
Duparc’s eyes narrowed. “What if our objection comes after the mission is underway?”
Again, Lar’ragos remained impassive, his response coolly rational. “I would hope the XO of the ship in question would move to assume command. Failing that, I would take control of the ship via their prefix codes, slaving its systems to Europa’s auxiliary bridge.”
That brought a muted eruption of coughs and muttered protests from the others.
“You really prepared to be that tyrannical, Lar’ragos?” This from Ebnal, whose arms were folded across his chest in an openly defensive posture.
Lar’ragos walked over to stand just in front of the holographic projection of Ebnal. “Captain, as you well know, the needs of the mission come first. Especially this mission. Call me tyrant if you wish, but I will be obeyed.”
“And what about Gan’Louk,” Ebnal pressed. “Given the bad blood between you two, do you expect him to follow your orders as well?”
“We’ve settled our differences for the time being,” Lar’ragos answered. “He’s a Klingon warrior, one who understands the necessity of a strong chain of command in battle. Gan’Louk has acceded to following the instructions of a ‘mere’ captain for the duration of this assignment.”
Lar’ragos looked around the room, his gaze settling upon those of the other starship commanders who’d so brazenly questioned his experience and authority. “The Brigadier will do his duty. As much as he dislikes me, he will follow my orders without question.”
Lar'ragos allowed that to hang in the air, the damning accusation issued by inference.
Ebnal glanced around the room at the others, absorbing their resistance and indecision. They had reached a tipping point. Orders or no, each captain had to decide whether they trusted in Lar’ragos enough to sacrifice themselves and their crews at his whim. Such things in Starfleet were built upon loyalty, won at the cost of years and shared experience in most cases. Ebnal knew Lar’ragos wielded neither of these.
Ebnal faced Lar’ragos and stood, making a point of coming to attention. “Venture and I stand ready, Captain.”
Duparc stared at him. As his ex-wife, she knew Lucian Ebnal better than anyone, and despite his penchant for being the most sardonic, mocking bastard she’d ever known, he seemed utterly without guile in that moment.
In ones and twos, the others stood as well, joining Ebnal in coming to attention until only Duparc remained seated.
“I can think of no better cause in which to give my life,” Ebnal explained, his tone free of pretense.
Duparc heaved a sigh, surrendering to the inevitable. She rose to her feet, nodding to Lar’ragos. “Istanbul stands with you as well.”
“Good,” Lar’ragos replied. “Let’s get to it, then.”
* * *​
USS Europa
Main Engineering
Lar’ragos looked down from atop the catwalk, standing overhead above the new, exotic looking transwarp engine core. The next iteration of Sandhurst’s original design had been brought to life by Zeischt and Lieutenant Ashok. The former Starfleet officer now claimed to be in possession of his full ‘Amon faculties’, no longer hindered by Sandhurst’s human limitations, or so he’d seemed to imply.
The El Aurian had always envied Sandhurst and his ilk, those with the seemingly magical ability to create and innovate. As someone whose specialties leaned more towards destruction and entropy, a part of him yearned to be leave something behind more concrete than the loss and bitterness that had so often been his due as a soldier.
Now Zeischt was working closely with Ashok, completing the final tests on this supposedly more reliable transwarp drive. Lar’ragos mused that ironically, Ashok and his former captain meshed better now than ever they had as Starfleet colleagues. The Bolian no longer felt overshadowed by Zeischt, and his fragile ego didn’t imped their collaborative effort as it would have before.
The Amon warrior glanced upward, seeming to sense Pava’s presence, and gestured to him to remain there.
“Status of the transwarp matrix?” Lar’ragos queried a moment later as Zeischt stepped off the ‘lift platform that brought him to the upper level.
“Nearly ready for trials,” Zeischt replied. “As we’ve discussed, this transwarp configuration will work in tandem with your existing warp system, giving you the benefit of both.”
“You’re confident Ashok will be able to maintain the system in your absence?” Lar’ragos intended to avoid the confusion and frustration created by Zeischt’s last disappearance from the ship. He would be damned if the ship’s propulsion systems were entirely reliant upon the mercurial Amon.
Zeischt held up a padd that displayed scrolling blueprints. “I have instructed him at length and provided detailed schematics, as well as a fully interactive holodeck program that he can query.”
“Good to know.”
“I would discuss Ramirez with you,” Zeischt added, sounding uneasy. It was so unlike this new version of the man to exude any kind of discomfort that Lar’ragos raised an eyebrow at the statement.
“Ramirez isn’t the issue at hand,” Lar’ragos answered matter-of-factly. “She’s a side-show, a distraction. I’m sure you’ll agree we have larger matters to worry about.”
“And yet,” Zeischt pressed, “I am driven to ask if there’s been any word of her or her ship?”
Lar’ragos cocked his head, stepping closer to Zeischt, who now stood nearly twenty-five centimeters taller than Pava following his metaphysical Amon transformation. “The Baron forged Ramirez into a weapon of vengeance against Sandhurst. You yourself have assured me that Sandhurst is, for all intents and purposes, dead. What interest could you possibly have in her?”
“She… torments me, Pava. I can’t explain exactly why.”
“That’s Captain Lar’ragos to you,” Europa’s commander rejoined icily. “Sandhurst had the privilege of calling me by my given name. You do not.”
Zeischt was visibly taken aback by that, before he regained his placid bearing. “My apologies if I gave offense, Captain. That wasn’t my intent.”
“Apology accepted,” Lar’ragos allowed dryly. “Don’t concern yourself with Ms. Ramirez any longer, she’s not your problem. In the unlikely event that she shows up prior to our departure to the LMC, I will make it a point to release her from her torment.” He reached up a hand and touched a finger just below his cybernetic eye. “I owe her that, at least.”
“I feel... responsible,” Zeischt protested. “She’s done so much harm, killed so many in her campaign to hurt Sand-- the man I was.”
“Again, not your concern. Donald Sandhurst was the target, but he’s run away. Sold his soul to a species as malevolent as the Borg; infused himself with alien energies so that nothing and no one would ever be able to hurt him again.” Lar’ragos offered the merest hint of a smile as he turned and walked towards the corridor entrance. “I recognize the impulse, because I’ve run away before myself. But here I am, four-hundred years later, and I’m still me. I know my strengths, my weaknesses, and the crimes of which I’m guilty. Some days I hurt with every waking breath because of my past sins, but I’ve never run so far away that I turned myself into someone else entirely.”
“I’ve seen the future,” Zeischt blurted suddenly, stopping Lar’ragos in his tracks.
The El Aurian cast a look back over his shoulder. “What of it?”
“All is fire,” Zeischt murmured stoically. “The closer we get to beginning this crusade against the Skorrah, the harder it becomes to see the future clearly. Too many potentialities, too many decisions made in the moment that can affect the outcome. I know this, though, many will die. A great many.”
Lar’ragos gave a short, sardonic laugh in response. “Figured all that out on your own, did you?” He shook his head derisively as he stepped through the parting doors into the corridor beyond. “Fucking amateur.”
* * *​
USS Europa
Deck 2 - Executive Officer’s Office
“Thank you for meeting with me, Commander.” Counselor Liu seated himself a chair across from the executive officer’s desk at her prompting.
“What can I do for you, Counselor?” Liu was up to her eyeballs in pre-mission preparations, but had taken the time to meet with Liu due to his position among the senior staff, and because as far as officers in general, and medical types in particular, Liu was low maintenance. Wu respected and appreciated that fact.
“Realizing that this is the worst possible time to ask this, sir, I find it necessary nonetheless to request a transfer.”
Liu’s eyes opened a fraction wider at that unexpected appeal. “A transfer where?” she asked guardedly.
“Valiant, sir,” Liu said, frowning in expectation of a sharp response.
Wu’s expression shifted from curious to dubious. “And is Captain T’Ser aware of your transfer request?”
“No, sir. I didn’t want to broach that subject with her until I’d cleared it with you and Captain Lar’ragos.”
Wu sat forward, placing her elbows atop her desk. “May I ask the reason for this request?”
“T’Ser and I are engaged, Commander. It was our intent to be married the next time Valiant and Europa were in the same sector together. This… unexpected detour to the Large Magellanic Cloud has upset those plans. Given T’Ser’s unfortunate history with her last fiance, I thought it best if I transfer to her command.”
A slow nod was Wu’s only response for the moment it took to formulate her reply. “Is there a particular reason to believe your personal situation trumps the seriousness of our upcoming mission, and the welfare of Europa’s crew?”
Liu blinked and cocked his head to one side. “Er… no, that wasn’t my consideration, sir. I thought we might swap counseling personnel with Valiant, if there was no objection from my counterpart there.”
“Counselor,” Wu began patiently, “you are intimately familiar with this crew, their psychological profiles, and you’ve gained the trust of everyone aboard from the captain on down. With the dangers we face and the potential of our becoming stranded in the LMC, you’re needed now more than ever.”
“I take your point, Commander,” Liu countered. “However, in a worst-case-scenario like that, the counselor in question would doubtless rise to the challenge, most especially if trapped in the LMC with the crew for a prolonged period.”
“Lieutenant,” Wu addressed him by rank rather than function. “Everyone aboard has loved ones, most of which are back in the Alpha Quadrant. Simply because your betrothed happens to be a member of the task force doesn’t give you any higher priority in securing a ‘safer’ berth for yourself. We both know Valiant isn’t one of the ships tasked for the upcoming strike on the Skorrah.”
Liu’s face colored in a sudden blush. “I’m not running away to safety for my own sake, if that’s what you’re implying, sir. I’m trying to spare the woman I love from losing another relationship on the cusp of marriage. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know if she could take going through that again. She’s also in no position to ask for my transfer, given the circumstances and her rank.”
“I understand your predicament, Counselor. Nevertheless, we need you, especially now.” Wu steepled her fingers together in front of her, leaning forward even further to convey sincerity. “And let me be perfectly candid, here, Lieutenant. Captain T’Ser knew the risks when the two of you became romantically involved. She’d already survived the worst-case scenario, and she made the conscious choice to roll the dice again.”
“But Commander, I--”
Wu held up a hand, and Liu fell silent, though obviously still smouldering.
“I need you here, Counselor. I’ve got our captain and what used to be Donald Sandhurst aboard the same ship, with all the bitterness and psychological baggage that entails. No other ship’s counselor, no matter how talented, has your in-depth understanding of both these men. Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you think someone else shoehorned into your post at the last minute would be of any help to anyone where we’re going?”
Liu managed to hold her gaze for a full five seconds before looking away. “No. Sir.”
Wu sat back in her chair, giving Liu the physical and mental space he needed in that moment. “There’s more. There are things going on with the captain that I haven’t revealed to you yet. Things that concern me greatly. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I can’t do this alone.”
Liu glanced out the viewport, eyes searching the void for a vessel he knew to be well beyond visual range.
“Dao,” Wu said softly, addressing him by his first name for the first time since they’d met. “Please.”
He reached up to rub his temples with the thumb and middle finger of one hand. “You’re right, of course, sir. I apologize.” Liu looked up at her, his eyes bright from tears that threatened to fall. “I’m a mental health professional, Commander, a supposed ‘expert’ in the workings of the humanoid conscious and subconscious minds."
Liu stood, turning his back to Wu and walking over to gaze out the viewport. "Despite all that, when I fell in love with T’Ser, I did so selfishly because it’s what I wanted. I never gave any thought to how it might affect her to lose someone else in uniform, not until it was far too late to turn back. Suddenly, I was in the position of potentially harming the person I love... devastating her beyond imagining, and the guilt of that is tearing me apart.”
“I’m sorry,” Wu offered, and she meant it. She stood and stepped out from behind the desk. "We're in real-time subspace transmission range of Valiant, Lieutenant. And I happen to know a captain who'd have no problem holding a wedding on the holodeck."
* * *​