Star Trek Online: Post War Era #1 - ?

“Sir, we are approaching Trafalax 3 now,” Lieutenant Kolle said. On the viewscreen was a small gray-brown rocky planet, mottled with white patches of crystal formations. The Rigelian Science Officer began her scans of the formations, looking for the highest concentrations of tritanium.

“Put her into a standard orbit,” Captain Trox ordered, a bit wearily. While his mission to locate resources to help rebuild the Federation was important, it was not nearly as action-packed as fighting the Heralds. Still, with the war over, perhaps he might be the first host in some time to last more than a year. His symbiant had three different hosts in the last two years.

“Captain, I am detecting a Klingon vessel already in orbit,” Lieutenant Commander Rochi said, brushing back a strand of auburn hair that had fallen over her face, “The designation is I.K.S. Leng.”

“Hail them,” Captain Trox paused for a moment as Ensign Plag, his Ferengi communications officer, opened the channel, “This is Captain Trox of the U.S.S. Madrid.”

“I am Ka’ar, son of Muuda, captain of the I.K.S. Leng,” Growled Captain Ka’ar, “What is your purpose here?”

“Long-range scans detected concentrations of tritanium ore. We planned to survey the planet with the intent of building a mining facility.”

“We had the same intentions,” Ka’ar barked, “But we discovered this planet first and claim the mineral rights.”

“Actually, this planet was first surveyed in,” Trox glanced down at his console,”2407 by the U.S.S. Belize. Therefore we claim the mineral rights.”

“We were at war at the time, we don’t recognize your `rights’,” said Ka’ar, becoming visibly agitated.

“Under the Discovery clause under our articles of alliance, we-“

“I do not bargain like a Ferengi,” said Captain Ka’ar, cutting off Trox. Ensign Plag tried to keep his face neutral but could not help but squirm a bit in his seat, “Depart the system or we will open fire.”

“You would break the Alliance and bring us to the point of war over some ore?”

“This is not about ore! This is about honor!” Captain Ka’ar cut the channel.

“Shields up,” Captain Trox sighed, “Red alert.”

“Sir, they are not powering weapons,” said Lieutenant Koll-fleck.

“What?” said Captain Trox, “These are Klingons, why aren’t they attacking? Target their disruptor banks.”

“Target locked, sir, ready to fire on your command,” Lieutenant Commander Rochi said, “They are targeting our phaser banks as well. But they still aren’t powering up weapons.”

“Evasive Maneuvers. Attempt to break their lock,” Captain Trox said, “Most of their weapons are forward facing, try to get behind them.”

“Aye sir,” said Lieutenant Kamr, the Bolian Flight Controller. He eased the Madrid into a tight spiral at one-quarter impulse.

“They are turning to follow us, sir,” said Lieutenant Commander Rochi, “Weapons remain locked, but they still aren’t powering them up.”

“This is no good,” said Captain Trox, “We are allies, we shouldn’t be fighting each other. Ensign Plag, hail-“

“Incoming message from the Leng, sir, requesting a private channel,” said Ensign Plag.

“Good timing. In my ready room.”

Captain Trox walked into his room and sat down, and flipped on the screen. An attractive Orion woman filled the screen.

“Greetings, Captain. I am Commander Gatar, First Officer of the Leng,” said the lovely Orion woman. Trox was grateful they were talking over the comm. The allure of Orion women was legendary.

“Greetings, Commander. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have called to negotiate for the mineral rights to this planet,” she said.

“I think your Captain already made his position pretty clear.”

“I’m not sure he did. We desperately need that tritanium ore to rebuild our fleet.”

“As do we,” said Trox.

“Clearly. But we also do not want to start a diplomatic incident.”

“Then why was your Captain so hostile?” Trox asked.

“You must understand the political situation. The Empire was devastated by the Iconians. And now that the threat is over, many subjects have begun to question the Empire’s participation in the Alliance,” Gatar said, “They have begun to wonder why our ships sit in drydock while Starfleet’s ships are repaired. They worry that we are falling behind the other powers, that we will become easy pickings.”

“We have been nothing but fair. The Alliance was even commanded by a Klingon General.”

“Yes, I know. And the leaders know. But many of our people are still suspicious of the Federation. And our structure is not like yours. A Captain who shows weakness is making himself a target for assassination.”

“Well then why are we even talking?”

“Despite the display on the open channel, Captain Ka’ar would like to reach an equitable solution. We both need the ore, and we are supposed to be allies, after all.”

“Well then,” said Captain Trox, “This sounds like a task for the diplomatic corps.”

“You know how long those channels take. It could be months before they are done squabbling. And our peoples need that tritanium now,” Gatra said, “Besides, I know you are authorized to negotiate under circumstances such as these.”

“You have a point,” Captain Trox considered for a moment, “Well, perhaps we could establish a joint mining operation. And split the ore evenly.”

“We were going to propose something along the same lines.
Only, we would like to receive one kilogram of ore more than the Federation each year.”

“One kilogram? What difference could that possibly make?”

Gatar averted her eyes from the screen briefly, embarrassed but trying not to show it, “It’s a matter of honor, Captain. If we receive more ore than you, Ka’ar can call this a victory, to the crew and to the council.”

“A hollow and contrived victory.”

“To you, yes, and perhaps even to me. But to a Klingon, the spoils make the victor. It costs you nothing, but the crew and the High Council will see that Ka’ar and the Leng intimidated you into submission and accepting the lesser share.”

“When the truth is that you and I did the real work by negotiating a deal.”

“Just like a Ferengi?” Gatra averted her eyes again, but there was a sardonic glint to them, “The real work here is that you will accept ‘defeat’ in the name of galactic peace and harmony. The cost is paltry, compared to the gains.”

Trox sighed, “Why do we always have to be the ones to take the high road?”

“Because you are Starfleet. That’s who you are.”

Personal Mission Journal Day 01 - Administrator Kuumaarke

Today we will begin our study of the Sun’s strange behavior. Chief among the questions we’re asking is if this recent reduction in luminosity is part of a larger cycle or if it is permanent. I am thankful, if somewhat surprised, that the Science Council approved all my personnel requests. These are the finest scientific minds the council has to offer and together we will discover what has caused our star to become so dim. The team is eager and determined. I know we’ll be advancing stellar science by decades when we’re done.



Personal Mission Journal Day 03 - Administrator Kuumaarke

We haven’t found much concrete information as of yet, but progress is being made. The leading theory, at least today, is that the natural fusion reactions aren’t reacting properly. This does not appear to be a cycle we can wait out.
It’s unlike anything I have certainly seen, and it’s stumped the team, but I have full faith they’ll figure it out.

I know the world is counting on us and that the stakes are very high, but there is something wonderful about an extended space mission. The local system has so much to offer us, but it’s hard to see the scale of what we have when you’re stuck planetside and working on budgetary reports. At least now I get to do my budgets with a view of our whole system!



Personal Mission Journal Day 07 - Administrator Kuumaarke

While my team is making progress, it’s slower than we would like. It’s slower than the Science Council would like, too. The Planetary Council is looking to us for answers and they want them now! I’ve spent most of the last two days running interference with the planet-based managers. They mean well, but I know my team and they will work best uninterrupted.

Researcher Teendaa suggested we might ask the Ferengi if they have any idea if this has happened before. I’ve considered asking, I imagine the Planetary Council has as well, but the Ferengi seem to care for economics exclusively and have little love for the natural sciences. If the last interaction is any indication they’d make us pay for the information and it might not be correct.

I have full confidence in our ability to solve this puzzle; the Lukari have solved every other scientific puzzle we’ve discovered so far, after all! And yet as the sun gets dimmer, I’m beginning to question if we’ll find the answer in time. I can’t help but wonder if we’d actually gone to other worlds instead of sending probes, would be in this situation? Would we already know the answer if we’d seen it for ourselves elsewhere? I guess we’ll never know.

I do know we’ll solve this sooner or later.



Personal Mission Journal Day 10 - Administrator Kuumaarke

Our star is dying.

It wasn’t the news any of us wanted to hear, but it is now an undeniable fact. The Planetary Council is talking about what to do. Exodus has been suggested. While our fastest ships can achieve something the Ferengi call “warp two”, we don’t have that many. Most ships are scientific research vessels like this one. We don’t have room for everyone. We haven’t needed to leave the system before now. There was so much to discover here we never needed to look beyond. Where would we go? The other races we have met, the Ferengi and the Tzenkethi, have been… less than gracious. I don’t imagine they would welcome eight billion refugees.

This is our home.

We need to save our star.



Personal Mission Journal Day 15 - Administrator Kuumaarke

The situation is becoming dire on Lukari as the sun dims. It is beginning to affect our crops and soon it will hurt our wildlife, but we have a plan. It’s crazy, but it’s the best option we have.

I just presented my team’s solution to the Planetary Council on behalf of the Science Council and we’ve been told to go ahead. I’ve been given additional resources to accomplish it. It’s a lot but I won’t let my people down. I’ve reminded my team just how widely they’ve expanded our knowledge of stellar phenomenon, and that I know they can solve this problem too. They’re all going to be answers on secondary school tests!

Putting it simply, we’re building a special solar probe and payload. If everything goes correctly, we’ll be able to reignite our star. The science looks sound even if a month ago I would have been astounded by the audacity of the idea.

Maybe a little bit of crazy is just what we need.

I am thankful, if somewhat surprised, that the Science Council approved all my personnel requests.

When I first read this I thought "That doesn't make any sense, it's just a blatant attempt to rack up the drama a bit; their sun's developed a fault, of course they'd let her have the people and the money..." but then I realised, actually, yes, that's JUST what would happen on Earth in real life!

I think I'm going to like the Lukari. Will play this one as soon as STO finishes patching (my slow connection again).

Triphox sipped her morning tea as she read the summary of simulations they had run overnight on the quantum phase inhibitor. She tried to keep her attention focused, but she kept getting distracted, her thoughts turning to the argument she had with her husbands the night before.

It didn’t help that the simulations were exceedingly boring. The quantum phase inhibitor performed exactly to specifications in every single simulation they had run. But that never seemed to be enough for Kal Dano. And it wasn’t just his perfectionism. He seemed genuinely afraid of the technology he created.

With good reason. He had created the quantum phase inhibitor for peaceful purposes. Namely, a means to re-ignite a dying star. But, like the fabled Genesis Device of the 23rd Century, the technology could be applied to sinister ends should it fall into the wrong hands.

Kal Dano came bursting into the laboratory, all smiles and good cheer. It was almost more than she could bear that morning. But she put on her best Denobulan affable smile and said, “Good morning, Kal.”

“Good morning, Triphox. What news from the simulations?”

“Same as yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that,” Triphox sighed.

“Do I detect a note of boredom? What happened to the vaunted Denobulan patience?” said Dano, with a smile.

“Even we have our limits,” she joked back.

“Well you are in luck today. I think we are ready for a field test.”

“Finally,” Triphox said, “Where are we going?”

“We have gotten approval to test the quantum phase inhibitor on a red dwarf in the Alpha quadrant, near the edge of Tholian space. The system is uninhabited and the star is nearing the end of its lifecycle. It’s a prime candidate for re-ignition.”

“Tholian space…so the Alpha Quadrant? Lukari is in the Alpha Quadrant, isn’t it? Planning on stopping by??” said Triphox.

“Not today. This is no pleasure voyage.”

“Right. I’ll get the instruments loaded onto the ship.”

“I’ll get the quantum phase inhibitor and begin the integration with the ship’s systems.”

Kal Dano walked down the hallway to the vault. He touched the sensor next to the door, which quickly read his DNA and lowered the security field. The door slid open and he walked into the antechamber. He held still while the sensors scanned him for nanotechnology, then matched his brainwave patterns to those on file. Some species could fool DNA-based scans, but brainwave patterns were notoriously hard to reproduce.

After the sensors completed their cycle, the inner door to the chamber holding the quantum phase inhibitor opened. Dano disabled the final security interlocks and took the inhibitor from its housing.

As he walked back out of the vault, he narrowly avoided a particle beam blast, purely by reflex, dodging back into the vault.

“That was a warning shot,” said an unfamiliar voice, “The next shot will kill you. Turn over the quantum phase inhibitor now and we’ll let you live.”

Dano slammed the emergency closure next to the outer door of the vault. But as the door started to close, he heard a weapons discharge from the hallway, and the door stopped, halfway open. Two Vorgons ducked into the room, their energy weapons still trained on him.

“Don’t make this difficult,” said one of them, the female.

Dano desperately tried to think of a way out of the situation. If it was simply a matter of his own life, he would trade it in a second. But after they shot him they would still have the inhibitor. He decided there was no use in throwing his life away. He reluctantly put the inhibitor on the ground and backed away.

“Pick it up, Boratus,” said the female Vorgon, and the male began to move towards the inhibitor.

A phaser blast shot in from the hallway, knocking the pistol from the female Vorgon’s hand. A second blast hit the Vorgon male in the leg. He fell to the side. The female rushed to his side and activated some kind of device. They both dematerialized in a swirl of light.

“Good timing, Triphox,” Kal Dano said, ducking under the door back into the hallway.

But instead of his Denobulan colleague, an unfamiliar human in an unfamiliar uniform stood in the hallway, holstering his pistol.

“Hello, Kal. My name is Daniels.”

Tactical Officer's Report, U.S.S. Hadrian

We responded to an incident on the edge of Federation space. A Tholian ship was seen near the Mizar system colony. The Orb Weaver – identified as the Taksene - has been detaining and scanning local shuttle traffic. When the Hadrian responded, the Taksene jumped to maximum warp.

Captain Silvok has ordered the Hadrian to remain in system in case the Tholians return. I have been conducting a sensor upgrade with the locals so they can see Tholian ships at a greater range. That should give them a better chance of escaping, should the Tholians return and prove hostile.

End Log.



Captain's Log, U.S.S. Nye, Captain Wallace recording

Our scientific survey of the Mizar sector came to a brief halt when a small fleet of Tholian ships entered the sector. They appeared to be conducting a scientific scan of the local stellar activity as we were. Tholians haven't been the friendliest of species but I decided to attempt to communicate with them on the hypothesis we might find common ground in science.

The lead Tholian ship fired a warning shot which was followed by their typical reprocessed audio. I ordered the crew to back the Nye away from the Tholians and to continue their stellar scans. I also had the crew monitor the Tholians, who completed their scans of the area and left abruptly.

I have sent a formal report to Starfleet Command but I saw no reason to pursue the Tholians. We've moved back to our previous location. The visiting science team assures me that the brief interruption will not have a major impact on their studies.



End Log.

Personal Log, Seven of Nine.

My second week with the science team of the Hawking has been especially productive. I believe that after so much war, the opportunity to conduct new research for the sake of science has lent the team additional focus and energy. I admit I am finding this change of pace especially refreshing.

Perhaps this is why the presence of so many Tholians near the Hawking has set me on edge. I have regained the ability to conduct scientific inquiries without needing to focus on wartime solutions, and I am reluctant to re-engage in wartime policies. The decisions made and the questions posed at the end of the war are ones I find myself reflecting upon and considering even now. While I am pleased that in the end the Federation was able to remain true to our core values, I find myself wary of returning to situations where such hard considerations need to be made at all.

Thus far, though Captain Anaig has attempted to hail them, the Tholians have remained remote and appear to be disinclined to interact with us. I find myself hoping this remains the case, lest they decide to engage in hostile actions.

Tomorrow we will be conducting a survey of the Gale-Vos nebula cluster. I am looking forward to seeing if Dr. Ramachandran's hypothesis bears out in the test conditions we have devised.

End log.

In a funny way this one seems more in character for Seven of Nine. She's like a Vulcan, she's constantly inspecting her state of mind for bugs.

That apart - I like these, and annoyed as I was by the way "new non-wartime-oriented storyline" mutated into "fighting the Tholians", I like the way this story is unfolding. I haven't played "Stormbound" yet, I mean to get on to that. Thanks for posting these, Pyriel.

No prob here's some more.



“This is a restricted area,” said the Na’kuhl captain on the viewscreen, “Especially for anybody affiliated with the Federation,” the captain spat the final word.

“Although we are in a Federation vessel,” said Administrator Kuumaarke, “This is an entirely Lukari operation. We are on a peaceful scientific and humanitarian mission, attempting to reignite the fusion in your star. We had great success-“

“Enough. We have had enough of your Federation lies.”

“Captain, while it’s true this mission was requested and organized by the Federation, I assure you-“ she was cut off by the viewscreen going blank.

“Administrator, they are powering weapons,” said Lieutenant Commander Tivol, her Andorian tactical officer, “Should I raise shields?”

“No. No evasive maneuvers, either. Just hold position. They won’t fire,” She hoped they wouldn’t fire, at least. But it never served to worry the crew, even if those worries were justified.

The Na’kuhl ship fired a beam across the bow of the Defiant.

“Sir?” said Tivol.

“Hold position. Continue hails.”

“Aye, sir,“ he said, sounding noticeably nervous.

“They are hailing us,” said Lieutenant Brothaw, her Operations officer.

“Onscreen,” she said.

The captain of the Na’kuhl ship appeared on the screen, seeming somewhat conciliatory, “Your courage and persistence speak well of you. I would rather not destroy you. Please depart immediately.”

“If you would just listen for a moment. Our star was dying, and the Federation and Kal Dano used the-“

“Do not speak that name to me.”

“Very well, but we were able to reignite the star. And we have all the data. We hope that perhaps it might help us reignite yours as well.”

The Na’kuhl captain sighed, “I understand, and I appreciate your efforts. But my orders are clear. I am not to allow any ships into the system, especially not Federation ships.”

“I understand your anger and frustration. And I understand you have your orders. But if we do nothing, your star will continue dying. Can you afford that?”

“There are no guarantees that you can restart the star.”

“No, but can you afford to take that chance?”

“It’s not up to me. As I said, my orders are clear.”

Kuumaarke sighed, “Very well. Will you at least talk to your superiors?”

“I will. Although I doubt it will do much good,” the Na’kuhl captain cut communications.

“Helm, take us outside the system and hold position,” Kuumaarke said.

“Aye, sir.”





“We are in position, sir.”

“Very well. Activate cloaking device.”

“Cloaking device engaged.”

“Set course back to the star.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me.”

Kuumaarke knew that if they were discovered, they risked a diplomatic incident. But she wasn’t going to let the Na’kuhl star die without a fight. It was too reminiscent of her own star. And she’d be damned if she’d let the Na’kuhl destroy themselves if there was a chance she could help. Especially when they blamed both Kal Dano and the Federation, who had saved her homeworld from destruction.

“Approaching the star now, sir. We don’t appear to have been detected.”

“Circle around to the far side of the star. Hopefully the magnetic interference from the star will mask our scanning beams.”

“Aye, sir. Activating scanning beams now.”

“I will be in Astrometrics.”

It was still a bit strange to have command of a starship, even if it was a temporary command. Starfleet felt that having a Lukari in command would be more palatable to the Na’kuhl, especially a scientist with her background in solar physics.

Not that they had much choice, after the Na’kuhl rejected every other diplomatic overture.

She reached the Astrometrics lab and began to review the telemetry.

It was, unfortunately, just what she expected. They would be doing in-depth analysis of the data for weeks to come to confirm, but she could already tell that it was as she feared. The fusion in the star had been permanently disrupted. And without the quantum phase inhibitor, or even Kal Dano, it was unlikely they would be able to do much to reignite the star.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to do everything she could

"Penny for your thoughts, Captain.”

Va’kel Shon looked up from his PADD, turning to face his Chief of Security with a smile. “Sounds like you’ve received another holo-chapter from Captain Paris, Lieutenant. I haven’t heard that kind of slang since my last trip through a Captain Proton adventure with him.” He motioned for the Caitian to join him at his table. “And were the forces of Doctor Chaotica vanquished once more?”

“Sadly, no,” Kyona said with a twitch of her whiskers. “Duty called me to Shuttle Bay 2. Some of our… smaller guests were using some fire suppression equipment as imaginary ‘phaser rifles’ during a lively skirmish.”

“Any casualties?”

“Only one, sir… my tail,” She winced as her captain arched a single eyebrow in response. “One of the Na’kuhl youngsters gave it a good stomping when I broke up their wargames.”

Shon grinned and took a sip of his raktajino. “The perils of Starfleet diplomacy, Lieutenant. I trust Doctor Savel set things right?”

Kyona nodded in reply, stirring her Risian tea somewhat absently. “That he did, although he couldn’t resist another very logical recommendation for the use of an armored tail sheath while on duty. Ugh… you’d think Starfleet engineers could fabricate one of those that didn’t itch so much!”

Shon chuckled, taking a moment to look out of a nearby window in 10 Forward. “I’m glad there weren’t any other incidents. Starfleet’s walking a fine line with the Na’kuhl these days… now more than ever, we need to be a shining example here on Enterprise. We need to show them the Federation isn’t their enemy.”

“More trouble on Earth, sir?” Kyona asked. “Surely the Council knows better than to risk the wrath of Ambassador Lwaxana Troi!”

“Despite the Ambassador’s... inspired efforts in recent Council sessions, the Na’kuhl situation remains deadlocked. The emergency support measures are being held up in committee.” Shon grimaced for a moment, his displeasure at the report quite clear to his fellow officer. “In spite of that, we’ll still be transporting our Na’kuhl guests to Betazed as ordered. On that measure, Ambassador Troi was victorious. “

“We take our victories where we can, Captain,” Kyona said, softly. “Iconia taught us that lesson well.”

“One of many, and not all of them for the better,” Shon paused, lost for a moment in thought. “In many circles, the unity we found in the war is giving way to isolationism, xenophobia… things I thought were long behind the Federation.”

“Surely, President Okeg will be able to lead the Council to reason on this,” Kyona asked, a hint of worry in her tone. “I realize that Councilman Ferris has considerable sway, but...”

“But Ferris has a lot of powerful friends, both on the Council and in Starfleet Command. And right now, those are the voices speaking loudest on this matter,” Shon replied. “To them, the Na’kuhl are a dangerous unknown… even a threat. Until recently, they led a life of isolation; diplomatic envoys from the Federation were turned away at every turn. They see that as hostility, and are slow to trust as a result. “

“Aren’t there questions about their connections to the Breen and the Tzenkethi as well?”

“There are, but they’re all based on hearsay… there’s no confirmed intel linking them to any of our enemies,” Shon took another sip of raktajino. “Still, these are the kind of suspicions that are being twisted into facts in the court of public opinion, if not the Federation Council.”

“And what of the other Alliance members? The Romulans… the Klingons. Where are they standing on the matter?”

“The Romulans are sympathetic; more than any of us, they know the pain of losing a star and finding a new home. But they suffered heavy losses in the war, and were barely established on New Romulus to begin with. They simply don’t have the infrastructure to accommodate thousands of Na’kuhl… they’re having a hard time feeding themselves lately.”

“And the Klingons?”

“The Klingons,” Shon smiled bitterly. “The Klingons are welcoming the Na’kuhl with open arms… so long as they come ready to work… to fight… to serve the Empire. It’s the same on Cardassia Prime, I’m told.”

“But the young… the elderly and the infirm? Those not built for war or hard labor?”

“The requirements are the same for all, and no exceptions are made. You can imagine why some Na’kuhl are reluctant to receive such hospitality.”

Kyona frowned, her ears folded back as she took in the news. “There are a number of inhabited systems near the Na’kuhl… where do they stand?”

Shon gave the younger officer a calming smile as he recalled the status reports he’d received earlier in the day regarding the Na’kuhl situation. “Well, the Ferengi are offering their assistance… their incredibly valuable assistance, if the reports are to be believed.” His smile faded.

“As always, if you have the latinum, they have the time,” Kyona growled. “Otherwise, move along.”

“It’s not all bad news, Kyona,” Shon replied. “Quite a few of their neighbors are doing all they can to help – the Trill, the Lukari, the Denobulans. There was a little hesitation from the Bajorans until Kai Kira took a… personal interest in the matter.”

“Not a woman I’d want to cross,” Kyona smiled. “Is it true the Klingons have a song about her?”

“I couldn’t say,” Shon replied. “Considering her tenure on DS9, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Ambassador Worf speaks highly of her, to be certain.”

Kyona grinned, in the feral way that unnerved those not familiar with Caitians. She took a sip of her tea and wrinkled her nose.

“Hsssht! Cold! Perhaps the galaxy is letting me know it’s time to get back to work.”

“Or back to fighting Doctor Chaotica?”

She grinned again, whiskers twitching merrily.

“Someone has to get Captain Proton out of that deathtrap. Might as well be me.”

“As you were, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir. Good night.”

As Kyona made her way out of 10 Forward, Shon called up the Na’kuhl reports on his PADD once more. “We have to do this right,” he thought as he finished his raktajino. “We have to represent the best and brightest of the Federation to the Na’kuhl… to outshine the darker fears surrounding us all. For us, as well as for them.”

Yep, I see what you did there...
and I approve. You did it well (IMHO). It's inspiring to read how the Federation would look at it.

So what's everyone else make of it? Some people on the forum have been complaining that this doesn't make any sense next to #5; one minute the Na'kuhl are still telling them they can get lost, the next, suddenly they're having to juggle thousands of Na'kuhl refugees.

A reasonable explanation, as somebody said, would be that the Na'kuhl government are indeed still being like that, and these people are just the segment of the population who've decided to ignore them and make a dash for it. But they should really have said so.

Still and all, if it is like that, two separate lots of Na'kuhl to deal with, then that means that we can have both the refugee plotline and, elsewhere, Ms Kuumarke's dilemma and SCIENCE! (I was enjoying the science problem stuff. They don't do it as realistically (hence, interestingly) as, say, the "Uprising" Foundry series which I've just been playing part 3 and 4 of, which are masterpieces of technological ways-and-means storytelling, but not bad at all, when they can resist the temptation of getting diverted into fighting Tholians.)

When the door chimed, Supervisor Traala looked up from her paperwork and said, “Enter.” Orndal, her lone security officer, entered her office. She stifled her annoyance at the interruption, but could not quite contain her irritation at Orndal’s manner. He was always a bit too enthusiastic about his job, making problems out of nothing.

Still, “security officer on a research installation” was probably not the most exciting task for a young Krenim looking to make his mark on the world. When he was assigned to the post, there was a lot more activity. But with the war over and resources depleted, security had been deprioritized and, one by one, the installation’s security staff had been transferred to other postings.

So, she could excuse a bit of jumping at shadows. After all, when all you have is a hyperspanner, every problem starts to look like a damaged relay. But she could not overly indulge him, lest an occasional annoyance turn into a frequent efficiency issue. She calculated her smile carefully: pleasant, even indulgent, but a bit tight around the mouth, with a touch of coldness around the eyes. A smile that was professional but businesslike. It said “get to the point, I’m very busy.”

“Have a seat, Orndal.”

“Thank you, sir.” He sat in the one other chair in her tiny cramped office.

“What can I do for you?”

“Two matters have come to my attention that I felt were important.”

“Very well, what is the first issue?”

“Well, sir, I have been monitoring outgoing communications, strictly for security purposes. But in the process, I have noticed an alarming trend.”

“Oh?” Traala tried to hide her indifference and mounting annoyance.

“Yes, well, it seems there is a growing faction who believes we should be using our temporal technology to advance the Krenim position.”

“You mean, interfere with the past?”

“Precisely.”

Traala considered for a moment. This was a far greater danger than Orndal knew. If this sentiment continued to spread and take hold, it was possible that this faction could send travelers back to manipulate the timeline. And she believed that the Krenim had had enough temporal manipulation. But it wouldn’t do to alarm Orndal - he would be forever checking under the beds for temporal infiltrators.

“Acknowledged,” Traala said, “What is the second issue?”

Orndal seemed a bit taken aback that Traala didn’t have more of a reaction. But after a moment, he continued, “Well, the other issue, sir, well… see, normally I think this would have gone to a counselor, but we don’t have one on the station.
Anyway… we’ve been getting some complaints about Noye.”

Traala wasn’t entirely surprised. Noye’s work had become increasingly erratic. She had chalked it up to exhaustion. “What kind of complaints?”

“Well, he has become increasingly irritable, to the point of hostility.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed he’s been a bit more touchy lately. But that’s hardly a major threat.”

“Well, it’s been more than touchiness. He has yelled at colleagues and even threatened one with violence.”

Traala then started to get concerned. This was not like the Noye she knew at all.

“And then there’s the secrecy,” Orndal continued, “He encrypts everything and will only work on a private, secured terminal.”

“I think that seems prudent, given the sensitive nature of our work.”

“I couldn’t agree more. But replicator logs? Turbolift logs?” He asked rhetorically, “And he no longer shares his findings with the other researchers. He has locked them out of the temporally shielded datacore entirely.”

“Very well, I will speak to him. I just have a few things on my desk to get through.”

Orndal stood and said, “Acknowledged, sir.” He walked toward the door and paused.

“Something else?” Traala said.

“Sir, when you meet with him, be careful. If he does have malicious intentions, he could be capable of anything.”

Traala could not help but smirk a little, “I’ve known Noye a long time. He might be a bit of an ass sometimes, but I hardly think he’s a threat to my person.”

“All the same,” said Orndal.

Traala sighed, “All the same, I appreciate the concern. Dismissed.”

“Aye, sir.”

After Orndal left, Traala chuckled to herself a bit. “Typical paranoid Orndal”, she thought, “I wonder if I should have him see a counselor.”

Walker rubbed the stubble on his chin once again. Sixteen hours in the command chair wasn’t doing him any favors. After a tumbling ride through the Hobus shockwave—again—and a trip back to 23rd century Excalbia, he was more than ready to head off shift, but a captain’s work was never done. He thought, not for the last time, that with all the miraculous time-travel technology on the Pastak, someone should’ve invented a way to get a full night’s sleep in the blink of an eye.

“They’re moving again,” came the report from the science station. “Heading 112 mark 12… preparing for warp.”

Walker turned his chair slightly to glance at Lieutenant Lefler, but even his fatigue-slowed mind quickly picked up on the plot. “Tholian space. They’re bouncing all over the place. Helm, more of the same: Prepare to bring systems back up fifteen seconds after they depart, then give us a follow plot and find us a nice hiding place at the destination.”

“Aye, captain,” came the expected reply. Walker stood and moved over to the navigation station, glancing at the console. Excalbia was a risky place to be, as the Excalbians were a post-matter civilization with expansive powers. Though they might not be on the level of Q, they could still be extremely dangerous, given their ability to read thoughts and to reorganize matter, combined with their total lack of any moral compass in the 23rd century. Walker was glad to be leaving their world behind.

“Looks like they’re headed for interphasic space,” Walker mused aloud. He’d found that speaking his conjectures often prompted his crew to reply, and it helped him to refine his thought process.

“Yes, sir. Defiant will be disappearing there in about… two months from current local time,” said Lefler.

“They’re not messing around any more,” mused Walker as he turned and paced the bridge. “We don’t have any operatives in that area, I presume?”

“No, sir,” was the reply. “Not yet, anyway. Still no luck making any headway with the Tholians, and it’s just too dangerous for us to leave a long-term deep-cover operative there.”

“Damn,” Walker muttered. He took a seat just as the ship slipped smoothly into warp, following on the trails of the other vessel.

“So the Na’kuhl are dropping off their agents all through the timeline now—22nd century onward. Perfect time to destabilize the Federation,” Walker said, once again thinking the matter through out loud. “But Defiant isn’t exactly critical to that, except inasmuch as it affects the development of the Mirror Universe. But even that won’t be something that would derail the formation of our universe’s Federation. So what are they doing now?”

“I’m not sure, Ben, but Kirk’s Enterprise eventually responds to Defiant, and anything that disrupts Enterprise has a serious impact on the timeline. Seventeen temporal violations, you know,” said Commander Nereda. Walker paused and turned to face his Cardassian first officer, who smirked slightly, one of her crossed legs bouncing up and down languidly in the fashion that he’d come to realize meant that she was teasing him.

Walker chose to play along. “They’ve already dropped off agents in three different systems. Now they’re going to just… wait here for two months for the Defiant incident?”

Nereda shrugged and her smile became slightly wider. She inclined her head and replied, “Why not? Perhaps they could go back home and watch some entertainment media. Play a hand of Acquisition. Oh, but their homeworld’s sun blew up. I suppose it’s true, that old Earth saying: You can’t go home again.”

Walker closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t make sense for them to drop an agent off here, now—or to send one further back with their stealth technology. There’s nobody in this part of space but the Tholians, and they don’t much care about anyone, Na’kuhl or otherwise. There’s nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing…” he trailed off.

Straightening suddenly, Walker turned toward the science station. “Wait. They’ve been seeding operatives just like we have, people dropped off throughout time so that they can nudge the timestream. Agents and counter-agents playing out the Temporal Cold War through history, which is the whole reason that we need eyes on the ground, since we can’t detect their stealth incursions. So why go this far back for something that doesn’t matter? Except… their goal is to topple the Federation.”

Nereda frowned and said, “So, what, they’re going to leave a couple of agents here doing nothing for years, waiting to get the Tholians riled up enough to fight the Federation in a war? We both know that even though such a war would be costly, the Tholians can’t destroy the Federation in the 23rd century.”

Nereda sighed and ticked off points on her fingers. “Such a war back then—local “now”— would lead to a two-front fight against the Klingons, but as soon as the Organians become involved they’d stop everyone long enough for the Federation to sort the mess out anyway. That breather reinforces Tholian xenophobia, they don’t go back to war, and everything goes back the way it was, albeit with a brief period when the Federation thought things looked bleak. The Na’kuhl aren’t going to go to Organia and try to blow up their sun or anything like that, because the Organians would certainly detect and neutralize them, so they really can’t do anything here of lasting value.”

Walker shook his head and punched up a record on the computer: DIVERGENT TIMELINES. “Remember, by the 25th century, this area of space is much more strongly under Tholian influence. The Na’kuhl can’t get involved directly in the timeline that they want to affect so they’re getting involved now to change things later. Look. Oh, it’s masterful indirection. Lefler, set up our sensors to scan for probes, containers, small cargo shuttles—anything that you could put someone in suspension in.”

Lieutenant Lefler nodded and started working as Nereda stood and moved over next to the captain, wearing a quizzical look. “I don’t quite see what you mean. They’re going to leave an operative here for a future problem? The next thing that the Tholians get tied up in is all of the Tox Uthat business, and we already know how that finishes. Turns out we were there,” she said with the hint of snippiness she employed when she knew that she was just slightly behind the curve.

“This,” Walker said, jabbing his finger at the screen. “It’s a divergent timeline where the Federation gets overrun by the Tholians. And… of course it’s the Enterprise. They’re leaving someone to disrupt the timeline two centuries later, when the Enterprise-C accidentally bounces into Tholian space as part of its trips through time before its ultimate end. Stop the Enterprise from correcting the timeline and suddenly that divergent timeline becomes the active timeline. All of the Federation enslaved. Alpha and Beta quadrants under the heels of the Tholians.”

Nereda pursed her lips, then said, “Doesn’t sound good. But we already solved that problem. We were there, too.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way. The cause-effect order is still sorting. If we leave them to their own devices, the Na’kuhl will reset that timeline and that… will be the end of us. Annnnd… there it is,” Walker said as the scanners registered the jettison of a small pod. He crossed back to the command chair, but didn’t sit. “Prepare to send an encoded message out. Have an agent ready to pick up that pod.”

The crew worked efficiently as Nereda crossed back to the command area and said, “We’d get more if we picked it up ourselves and asked a few pertinent questions of the occupant.”

Walker shook his head. “You know the rules. No direct intervention. Agents in this era will handle it. Contact Agent T’lerru. The Romulans of this era have cloaks; she can get a ship in and out without being noticed.”

Commander Nereda pouted momentarily and replied, “Yes, sir. I was hoping you’d change your mind for once, but I suppose there’s no harm in doing it by the book.” She took a seat and gestured to one of the junior officers in an easy “you-heard-the-captain” wave.

Walker finally sat back down in his chair. “What’s next?” he queried as exhaustion set back in.

Nereda tapped the pad on the corner of her seat, then answered, “The Na’kuhl ship is leaving at low warp. Wherever they’re going next, they’re not in a hurry. Possibly waiting for new orders, or perhaps they’re done with their immediate tasks. We still need to head to Romulus and backstep eight months to drop off Agent T’lerru so that she’ll be here for us today. She’s eager to return to Romulus’ ‘frontier heyday.’”

Walker nodded and stood once more, wearily. “All right. Commander, you have the conn. I’m going to take care of another urgent matter.”

“What’s that, captain?” said Nereda as she switched to the command seat.

“Sleep,” said Walker. “About a century’s worth.”

I didn't understand a word of that :-) But then I haven't watched Enterprise so I don't know what the Temporal Cold War was all about. The two things I made out were that Na'khul Intelligence have it in for the Federation, or else haven't got to that yet but will have in the future, and that even 29th-Century Captain Walker doesn't always have things quite so easy as his hair would suggest. That's probably all we need to know for now!
Thanks for reposting these pieces for us, Pyriel. I can never find them on the main website (once they disappear from the Latest News links on the launcher) since the Arc website came in!

Commander Nereda crossed her arms as she watched the helm work out the navigational plot which would take the Pastak to the edge of Federation territory in the very late 24th century near Romulan space. As they smoothly transitioned from warp into impulse she stepped back to the center of the bridge.

“Contact!” the officer at the tactical station, Lieutenant Rikali, reported. The Ferasan officer’s tail swished as her fingers ran over the controls. “Target matches the configuration sent from our local agent, Commander.”

“Beam it aboard, Lieutenant. Standard level-two protocols,” Nereda said, nodding as she resumed her slow circuit around the center of the bridge. She’d always thought best on her feet and had never lost the habit of pacing. “Fidgeting,” Walker called it. Such a strange-sounding human word, she mused.

“Level-two, aye,” Lieutenant Rikali acknowledged.

Nereda glanced over the temporal plot as her pacing took her by the screen, eyes narrowed as new data appeared in their system. They’d figured the Na’kuhl were seeding operatives in the timelines, sometimes centuries before they would be called to act, and so the Pastak had moved to intercept them. The plot shifted and she scowled at the new report.

The bridge entrance opened and Walker strode onto the deck, coffee in hand, a determined look gleaming in his eye. “Nereda, you’re with me,” he said without slowing as he crossed the bridge and disappeared into his ready room.

“Good morning to you too, sir,” Nereda called after him. “Rikali, you have the bridge. I have a meeting… apparently.”

Rikali flashed a sharp grin. “Aye, ma’am. I have the bridge.”

Following Walker into his ready room, Nereda found her captain contemplating a map of the Alpha and Beta quadrants, the various boundaries of key players and powers overlaid one another across time. Walker sipped his coffee and toggled between a few of the display modes with gestures from his free hand.

“The most recent data pickup went well,” Nereda said as she watched the display flicker across the years, “but they keep dropping more agents off. I think they’re on to us, Ben.
They’ve been countering our countermeasures. The data we just picked up confirms they’re out-maneuvering us in 24th century Romulan space.” She crossed her arms and leaned a hip against his desk.

“Which could have dire consequences later,” Walker agreed, eyebrows lowered as he considered the map once more.
“Thoughts on a counter?”

“Several, but only one or two I know you’ll approve of,” she replied with an arch look. “You walked in here like a man on a mission. What’s going on?” She tapped the fingers of one hand against the opposite arm.

Walker gestured to the display. “I’ve been looking over the battlefield here. We counter them and then chase to the next sighting, stalking their ships and agents.”

Nereda frowned, but nodded.

“I was flipping through the data and then I saw something. What do you make of this?” he said, changing the display further. He looked back at her with one eyebrow raised in a Human gesture she understood to mean he awaited her input.

Slowly walking around the display, she considered the data before her. There were borders marked in bold lines that changed with the years and simplified markers to indicate major worlds and trade routes used in the related time period. Speckled across the stars were marks where the Pastak had moved to counter or intercept the Na’kuhl ships, chasing them across space and time.

Nereda reached out and began to move the timeline forward, watching the blips of data move with the years. “There are clusters of their operatives but… not all are where I would expect them to be. Especially not these early ones,” she finally said.

“And why is that?”

“They aren’t where I would put a temporal agent. If I were going to destroy the Federation, I wouldn’t have dropped someone here, for example,” she said, tapping a finger on one world. “Far better to drop them off in the Tellun system.”

“Have you thought often of how to dismantle the Federation, Commander?” Walker teased.

“Probably once or twice when I was hip deep in the crew’s annual review time,” she replied with faux sweetness. She winked. “But I’m certain I’ve gone back and stopped myself, Captain.”

Walker chuckled and gestured to the map with his coffee mug.
“Why go there, and not in Ubreki where they did leave someone in the 25th century?”

“Because of what happened in Tellun. It’s a more vulnerable spot, temporally speaking.” She paused, as her hand coming to a halt as she reconsidered the map.

“They don’t know Federation history as well as we do,” she realized aloud.

Turning back to the captain she said, “While that might give us an advantage, it also means we might be blind to an opportunity an outsider might see.”

Walker nodded, conceding the point. “True, but, the more they learn, the better they have become at targeting these vulnerable spots. Now, view the plot from our relative perspective.”

Nereda frowned at the map and reconfigured it once more. “More close calls and it gets harder to chase-” Her eyes widened as a sudden thought struck. “They’re learning what we already know!” She turned to Walker with a fierce grin. “If we know where they might strike we can get ahead of them!”

Walker nodded and began to move the map. “We’ve been chasing them and reactive. We need to become proactive, and we happen to know our own history a lot better than they do. We know where our vulnerable points are. Here are some I thought of in the 24th century,” he said, pushing annotated locations onto the map, “Here in the 22nd and here in the 23rd.” The points of light lit up the map, depicting important events across space and time, each of which could create a wave that might rip apart the Federation. “These events haven’t been targeted yet.”

Walking a circle around the map, Nereda moved some of the holographic layers away with a few casual flicks of her wrist. Several icons remained. They glowed in a bold, golden color, displaying the registry of a famous - some would say infamous - starship.

Walker let out a breath. “That ship certainly saw its fair share of… everything.”

“Seventeen temporal violations,” Nereda said archly.

“The Kelvans, M5, the Romulans, the Klingons, rapid aging, first contacts, diplomatic conferences-“

“Tribbles,” Nereda added with an arch look.

Walker grimaced at her over his coffee. “Now there’s a disturbing thought.”

Nereda hummed agreement. “But we’re already covering that incident – it’s hardly unsecured, so probably not the best target.” She shook her head and paced to the other side of the map once more. “The conference?” she suggested, tapping a world as she passed.

“Possible. The plague?” He gestured to another location. “Would be easy for that event to be turned somehow.”

“The Na’kuhl wouldn’t be so desperate as to go for the incident with the Kelvans, would they?”

Walker rubbed a hand across his face. “And here I thought this might make our job easier.”

“Getting ahead of them is still a good idea, sir. We’ll just have to evaluate further before we act. With your permission, I’ll get some analysts on it.”

“That would be excellent, Commander. Please keep me posted.”

Nereda nodded. “And I’ll put some people on the others, too.”

Walker frowned. “Others?”

The Cardassian stopped at his door and grinned back at him. “That one isn’t the only ship named ‘Enterprise’, sir.” With that parting shot, Nereda left.

Walker stood and brought several of the map’s layers back, many more icons in many more colors joining the gold ones. He viewed the enormity of the legacy and the places where he could see vulnerability. “No, it wasn’t,” he mused to himself.



Kate Bankson
Staff Game Designer
Star Trek Online

love reading these

Thanks for collecting these. I usually miss them on the sto site, and they do provide alot of background to eps.


Hmmm. Looks like we may be going on a tour of Enterprises for the anniversary. Sweet.

Office of the President of the United Federation of Planets



Paris, France

A soft chime and a pulsing light heralded the arrival of two very important people. “Important,” thought President Aennik Okeg. “Important and… vocal. Very, very vocal.” After a calming intake of air, the Saurian diplomat pressed the receiver node of his in-desk comm unit.

“Yes, Genevieve?”

The prim voice of his personal assistant filled the air of his office. “Your two o’clock appointments are here, Mr. President. Shall I send them in?” Okeg briefly entertained the notion of postponing this encounter, but smiled as he remembered the counsel of an honored mentor – “The longer you make ‘em wait, the louder they’re gonna shout. Best to get straight to it before they roar so loud you wind up deaf.”

“By all means, please do.” Okeg put on a calming smile as the doors to his office softly whooshed open, revealing his two formidable guests as they waited in the adjacent reception area.

First to enter was a legend in the Federation Diplomatic Corps. Some of her esteemed titles included daughter of the Fifth House, holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed… and Ambassador. Clad in robes of fine Risian linens and wearing a golden headdress trimmed in latinum, Lwaxana Troi gave Okeg a beaming smile as he stood to greet her.

“My dear Mister President! So lovely to see you once again,” Lwaxana said warmly as she shook Okeg’s hand. “I do appreciate the opportunity to speak with you today in person – and really, I’ll take any opportunity to visit Paris I can get! You simply can’t get decent macarons from a replicator, you know.”

“All too true, Madam Ambassador,” Okeg replied. “Thank you for making the trip; Paris is brighter today with your presence.”

“Flatterer! I’ll take that compliment, and a glass of red wine if you have some handy,” Lwaxana made her way to a chair near Okeg’s desk with a chuckle. “You can’t get decent versions of that from a replicator either, tragically. Honestly, whoever thought synthehol was a good idea needed medical attention!”

Okeg smiled and chuckled in response as he moved to greet his other guest, a tall, polished human male of middle-age.

“I didn’t come as far as Ambassador Troi, Mr. President… beamed in an hour ago from Boston, myself. I thank you for seeing us today nonetheless.”

Like Troi, Councilman Mercer Ferris smiled as he shook the President’s hand, but the tone of his voice wasn’t anything Okeg could define as “warm.” It reminded him of the low, even growl of a particularly patient and lethal Saurian predator he tangled with in his youth… a growl that preceded a crippling blow.

Okeg took a seat, faced his guests and steepled his fingers. “I’d like to remind you both that this meeting is an informal one… ‘off the record,’ if you will,” he said, evenly, studying their reactions as he spoke. “The upcoming vote on the Na’kuhl emergency support measures is significant to me, and I’d like to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

“I think Ambassador Troi’s position on the Na’kuhl Crisis is well-documented, Mr. President… and, frankly, reckless.” Ferris paused briefly, ignoring a steely gaze from the Ambassador sitting next to him. “Sir, we need to be more vigilant when dealing with a potential security threat, especially considering what we’ve learned took place in the 29th century.”

Okeg frowned slightly at that. “He’s making the most of his recent appointment to the Starfleet Intelligence Committee,” he thought. “One more weapon in his arsenal.”

“I’ve read that report too, Councilman,” Troi said with disdain. “I’ll remind you that the Krenim were involved in that attack as well. I don’t see their names on your threat list.”

“The Krenim are currently our allies, Ambassador… the Na’kuhl are not. I’d say that calls for a different level of response, wouldn’t you?”

As Troi glared at her opponent, Okeg took the opportunity to interject… while it was still possible.

“Councilman, recall that both the Klingons and Romulans were once our bitter enemies,” the President said calmly. “Through diplomacy, they are now trusted partners in the Alliance. In time, the same could be said for the Na’kuhl.”

“Or do you want to close our borders to them, too?” Lwaxana said contemptuously. “I’m sure J’mpok would just love an opportunity to rattle his bat’leth and test your nerve.”

Ferris regarded the Ambassador dismissively, his brow furrowed. “Don’t be ridiculous. In the case of the Na’kuhl – and, for that matter, the Krenim – we will need to watch them closely and restrict their access to many parts of Federation space until we have a better understanding of their intentions. Just as we monitor, and in some cases restrict, our ‘allies’ the Klingons and the Romulans… or am I to believe that Starfleet and Section 31 have placed them above suspicion?”

“Section 31 hasn’t placed their own mothers above suspicion,” replied Troi archly, “let alone the Klingons and the Romulans. That has nothing to do with giving relief and aid to people in dire need!”

Okeg cleared his throat, bringing a momentary cease-fire to the field of diplomatic battle. “I believe it is important to consider that the attacks mentioned by the Councilman took place centuries in the future. Judging the Na’kuhl – or the Krenim – today on the tragic events of a potential tomorrow seems… ill-advised.”

“I completely agree, Mr. President, “Lwaxana replied, still glaring at Ferris. “Turning our backs on the Na’kuhl today could very well create the troubles you’re all wound up about tomorrow… and then some.“

“And allowing potential hostiles from a rogue state into the Federation without oversight could create all of those troubles and more today. They have access to time travel – who’s to say they haven’t sent back operatives to strike us when we’re weakest? “

Ferris met Troi’s glare with a grim, measured stare. “That’s not a risk I’m comfortable taking, Ambassador… and I’m not alone.”

“Yes, you’ve got yourself quite a voting bloc, Councilman.” Troi’s voice had a hint of menace in it now, one that gave even Okeg pause. “A bloc built on fear, on a kind of vulgar xenophobia that went out of fashion on this world over three hundred years ago, and one that has no place in the Federation today! None whatsoever!”

“As I said, Mr. President, the Ambassador’s position on this matter is eminently clear. As is mine.” Ferris stood and gave each of the others a slight nod. “I think we’ve said all we need to say here. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be heading back home now. Thank you for your time… be seeing you on the Council floor.” As he walked toward the exit, Okeg stood from behind his desk. “One last chance,” he thought quickly. “One last chance to appeal to whatever conscience he might have.”

“Councilman,” Okeg said calmly. “I implore you – consider all sides of this issue with great caution. Consider the effects your proposals will bring to the Federation if enacted. The repercussions could be quite… severe.”

“I have done so, sir… and I am resolved to protect a Federation that has withstood the onslaught of many a hostile force, time and time again. I hope you will do the same. Good day.”

As Ferris left the office, Lwaxana shared a look of concern with the President. “I’ll say this for him, he doesn’t back down. Runs in the family, all the way back to his grandfather. Man had the nerve to tell Jim Kirk what to do on the bridge of his own ship! Voted against the Khitomer Accords too, if memory serves.”

Okeg nodded silently as he took a seat behind his desk. “It’s going to be a close vote, Madam Ambassador. I truly hope that reason and compassion rule the day when the time comes.”

“I hope you’re right, my friend… though I don’t think for a minute we’ve heard the last from Ferris about this - or his voting bloc.” Lwaxana looked weary as she looked out of the President’s window onto the City of Light beyond. “Old habits die hard – and I should know. When you’ve been around for over a century like I have, you’ll realize that too.”

The office doors whooshed open softly as Genevieve entered with a bottle and several glasses in hand. “Pardon the interruption… but would anyone care for some wine?”

“Thought you’d never ask, dear.” Ambassador Troi gave the President a wink and a smile as Genevieve began to pour. “Now then… let’s talk about more pleasant things, shall we? Macarons, for example.”

Good stuff. They're continuing the straight-from-the-headlines stuff, I see; well, I like that, so long as they write well, which they are doing. I like the way the three of them are staring each other out. (And I agree with whoever on the main forum said that they can't help imagining Ferris wearing a huge wig!)

Whetu shifted nervously from foot to foot. She tapped the PADD in her hand softly, repeatedly, against her other hand. She glanced once more at Elyos, next to her, then back to the starfield outside the window of the shuttle. The shuttle pilot, apparently oblivious to her fidgeting, guided the small craft in a slow arc along the port side of the gantries and the ship that occupied them.

“I think your eyes still look swollen,” said Whetu to Elyos without turning to look at him.

“The doctor said that all of the capillary damage was repaired by vascular regeneration. You’re imagining it,” said Elyos.

“Even so,” said Whetu. She glanced at the PADD that she was holding, where the lengthy task list started with preliminary visual inspection of exterior hull.

The shuttle pilot banked slightly and made a slow, curving turn around the stern of the massive starship that hung like a jewel in a spiderweb over Mars. Elyos reached out a hand and steadied himself against the wall, then craned his head back at the gaggle of junior technicians on the bench seats in back. An enigmatic smile crossed his face.

“The enlistees are excited,” he said.

Whetu looked to Elyos, then back at the technicians. Most of the youngsters were leaning forward, eagerly trying to catch a sliver of a view through the forward window. She sighed and said to Elyos, “You’re getting a buzz from their excitement, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the empath said after a moment, with just a hint of smugness.

The shuttle continued in its long, slow journey, and Whetu heard the pilot humming under his breath. She glanced over the long curves of the ship as the shuttle weaved underneath, then along the starboard side, and finally settled into the shuttle bay. The rear door of the shuttle descended and the technicians filed out into a line and stood at attention. Whetu tucked her PADD under her arm and stepped out after them.

Elyos leaned over toward Whetu as they descended the shuttle ramp and said, “It’s just the flagship of the fleet. No pressure.”

Whetu grunted noncommittally in reply, but her breath caught for a second when she saw who’d come to greet them.

“That’s… Lieutenant Commander O’Brien,” she stammered.

Elyos said, “So it is. Why are you surprised? He’s the chief engineer.”

“I didn’t expect him to come in person. I thought he’d delegate this to one of his staff,” Whetu said.

O’Brien smiled broadly at the row of technicians as Whetu and Elyos fell into place with their enlistees. He said, “Welcome to the Enterprise. I’m glad to have the help of experienced engineers from Utopia Planitia here for our latest series of upgrades. We’ve made some modifications from the usual specs on the basis of experiences that we had during the Iconian War, so I’ve had updated technical specifications sent to your PADDs. I’ll be assigning junior officers and technicians from Enterprise to assist you as well so that this repair-and-upscale process will go as smoothly as possible. Those of you who are new to the fleet can learn a lot from the vets, so keep your eyes and ears open.”

O’Brien glanced over the assembled Utopia Planitia staff once more, his gaze sweeping over them as if he could identify their strengths and their skills with just a glance. Then he clasped his hands behind his back and said, “Basically, if you don’t know what something does, ask. If something doesn’t look like the schematics for an Odyssey­-class, ask. And in the words of one of my father’s co-workers, ‘if you break it, you bought it.’” That brought a chuckle from a few of the technicians.

“That’s it,” O’Brien finished. “Head to the engineering conference room and you can meet up with your Enterprise counterparts. Make some introductions, have some Deka tea together, and set up your plans for tackling your assignments. Dismissed.”

As the technicians separated into a loose group and headed for the turbolifts, the chief engineer turned toward Whetu and Elyos. “Lieutenant Whetu, a moment of your time, please?” O’Brien asked.

Whetu nodded and suddenly realized that the odd whistling sound, somewhat like a balloon releasing just enough air to squeak, had come from her. “Um, yes, of course, Commander O’Brien,” she replied. She straightened slightly and tried to look professional.

O’Brien approached and offered his hand. “I’ve heard about your work at Utopia Planitia, naturally. I’m really looking forward to working with both of you. You’re on the rare list of folks who manage to have an adventure while in spacedock.” He grinned disarmingly.

Whetu started to hold out her hand, nearly dropped her PADD, then switched it to her other hand and shook O’Brien’s. “Thank you, sir. We’ve been reading all about your work on bringing the Enterprise to the top of the performance curve. A lot of it made it into the recommended revisions for the Odyssey-class in general.”

Elyos interjected dryly, saying, “I believe I saw your hand in some of those EPS modifications mentioned in the recent Jayce’s article.”

O’Brien laughed and released Whetu’s hand. He inclined his head briefly toward the Deltan and said, “Yeah, they got really excited about the upgraded capacities, especially for the phaser emitters. They’ve got that sort of militaristic heritage; you know, their largest subscriber base is Andorian. The captain reads them!”

“Why would Captain Shon read Jayce’s?” asked Elyos, looking puzzled. “He commands one of the top ships of the fleet. He’s not going to learn anything new from them.”

“Nostalgia, I think,” said O’Brien. “He’s been reading them since he was a kid on Andoria. Anyway, I just wanted to talk about our procedure here. I know that UP is used to having a hand on the rudder of ships in the gantry, Lieutenant Whetu, so I’m hoping to stay out of your way and focus on sharing my specialized knowledge with your crew. I just wanted to underscore that there are already a lot of nonstandard modifications on Enterprise. I’m happy to help out and to explain everything, and I want to make sure that nothing gets broken and, most of all, that nobody gets hurt by tinkering with something that’s not working according to the original specs.”

Whetu nodded. “Naturally,” she said. “I have our itinerary right here. I’ll keep an eye on the technicians. They’re reliable workers and good engineers. I don’t think we’ll have any problems.” She held up her PADD for emphasis.

“Great,” said O’Brien easily. “I have a department heads meeting at 1600 hours, so I have to duck out right after I look over the mains, but I’ll check in with you once that’s done and get on your schedule. Main engineering’s going to be full of fresh-faced ensigns working on the overall console and UI parameterizations, so we could meet up in ten-forward, if you like.”

“Sure,” said Whetu. “We need to go supervise the team and give the briefing on the ship layout and assignments, so that’ll give me time to get that out of the way.”

“See you then!” said O’Brien with another friendly smile. He turned and headed toward the turbolift, and gave a mock salute as the doors closed behind him.

Whetu paused for a moment, then without turning toward Elyos she said, “Did I just agree to a dinner date to discuss engineering with the chief engineer of the Enterprise?”

Elyos dryly replied, “Your limbic system thinks so.”

General Vosk addressed the assembled Na’kuhl.

“You represent the best of our most elite forces. I have hand-selected you from our entire military, for a mission that could mean the salvation of our people.

But it is a mission from which there can be no return.

Therefore, I am asking for volunteers.”

Several Na’kuhl began to step forward.

“No, I want you to go home and speak to your families. I want you to both remember what you are fighting for, and to see if you can bear to leave them forever.
And if you decide to join this glorious mission, say your goodbyes and return here at dawn. Dismissed.”

Braag walked home, his footsteps heavy with trepidation. His parents did not approve of his joining the military, and would be devastated to hear they would likely never see him again.

As he entered his family home, he smelled verdrat roasting. A small rodent-like creature, verdrat was a particular favorite of Braag’s.
His mother had made an effort to make all of his favorite foods while he was on leave.

He heard his mother’s voice from the kitchen as he entered the house, “Braag? Is that you? Wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

Braag dutifully washed his hands and sat down at the table.
His father was already sitting, reading a data PADD.

“I’ve been hearing some wild rumors about plans that the military is making. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“No, sir. Not exactly.”

His mother came bustling in with a roasted verdrat, shiny and almost dripping with juices. She set it on the table with a flourish.

“Not exactly? Whatever could you mean?”

Braag sighed, “They have asked me to join a mission. But they say it’s a one-way trip.”

The room was so silent Braag thought he could hear the skin of the verdrat sizzling.

His father finally recovered, “I forbid it.”

“Hulth, Braag is a grown Na’kuhl. You can’t forbid it. But we can talk about it, right, Braag?”

“Yes, they asked me to discuss it with you, actually,” Braag said.

“This is more of Vosk’s insanity. Well, I won’t stand for it! He lays all our woes at the feet of the Federation, but that was more than 400 years ago! And the Tholians were the ones who used the Tox Uthat, not the Federation.”

“That may be, father. But if it wasn’t for the Federation, there would be no Tox Uthat and the Tholians would not have been able to extinguish our star.” His father rolled his eyes and grunted in response.

“And even leaving that aside, what assistance have they provided us? None.
They watched us become refugees, scattered amongst the stars. They let the Ferengi prey on us. They graciously allowed us to be subjugated by the Klingons and the Cardassians. They let us become the dregs of the galaxy!”

“They also tried, time and time again, to offer assistance and make amends. We have always refused.”

“Because their assistance always comes with strings! We have seen how they slowly subvert their enemies with their `assistance’. Look at how they swallowed up the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Republic!
They’re little more than vassal states now to their Federation kings!”

“And would that be such a terrible thing? At least we would have peace and prosperity!”

“But at what cost? We would be forever a forgotten and neglected species in their great human hegemony. Peace is not the way of the Na’kuhl.”

“We were a peaceful people, once.”

“Until the Federation changed all that.”

“It wasn’t their –“

“Enough, father. We have covered this ground again and again,” Braag looked at the verdrat, “I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going to my room to pack.”

Braag got up and left the table.

Braag’s mother watched her son leave in silence, and then came around the table to put her arm around her husband. He looked as if he had aged a hundred years in a single moment.

“What did we do wrong, Daltha? Didn’t we raise him to think for himself? But he just parrots Vosk’s rhetoric.”

“It wasn’t our fault, Hulth. We have centuries of propaganda against the Federation building to this point. You remember how it was when he was growing up. If he didn’t join the Youth Brigade, he would have been an outsider.”

“I always thought he would grow out of it. That one day, he would snap out of it and realize that he had a choice.”

“So did I. And now our only son is leaving on a mission from which he will likely never return. Do you wish to part in anger?”

Hulth looked up at his wife’s face, “No, of course you are right, Daltha. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

The couple walked to their son’s room. The door was open. Braag held a holopicture in his hands, but stared blankly out the window, lost in thought.

“Son, I’m sorry we quarreled. It’s just so hard to lose your only son.”

Braag wiped his eyes surreptitiously and turned around.

“I’m going to miss you too, father.”

“Although we don’t agree with your decision, we love you and for what it’s worth, you have our blessing.”

“Thank you, father. That means a lot to me.”

“Good. Now that’s settled, the verdrat is getting cold.”

The little family returned to the table, and sat down for their last meal together.

They spoke no more of the mission or of politics that night, choosing instead to reminisce about funny memories and enjoy one last night as a family.
Although verdrat was a family favorite, and Daltha was an exceptional cook, it tasted like ash in their mouths.