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From: dw4557@u.cc.utah.edu (Dylan Winslow)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: NEW STORY: Fools in Hell: part 1
Date: 24 Jan 1994 02:17:53 -0700
Organization: University of Utah Computer Center, Salt Lake City, Ut.
Lines: 261
Message-ID: <2i03o1$j4a@u.cc.utah.edu>
NNTP-Posting-Host: u.cc.utah.edu
This is the first part of a new ST-oriented story. It concerns the
captain of another ship, although the Enterprise crew makes an appearance
in part 2. This story contains some profanity, if that bothers anyone.
Fools in Hell, part 1: Emergence.
------------------------------------------------
1
Captain's Log- Stardate 452..um.. oh hell, computer
just auto-insert the date when I'm done. We are nearly
finished with our survey of illegal Cardassian military bases
and the crew is looking forward to spending time on shore
leave at Starbase 347. I think we deserve it after not
setting foot on a Federation planet for two years and not
even being in Federation space for over a year and a half.
Overall, it's been a successful mission. Lt. Cdr.
Prak is in the process of writing his report which he will
personally present to Admiral Carstairs when we reach
Starbase 347. I think that I share his opinion that when
faced with the scale of Cardassian military buildup, the
chief of Cardassian Sector Intelligence will blow a blood
vessel. Probably in his cerebellum. Commander Prak is beside
himself with excitement.
On another note, I have just learned from our latest
Covert Communications Package that for the dozen or so
crewmen on board the USS Sigmund Rosenblum that have not been
paid in the last seven months (of which I am one), we will
need to submit new SF-502317 forms for each. If I have the
chance to meet with the Finance Branch officer in charge of
pay for this vessel, I will very probably hand him his spleen
on a plate.
***
"We're finished."
Commander Stanton, Captain of the Uss Sigmund Rosenblum,
looked up to see Lt. Cdr. Prak standing over him with a self-
satisfied smile on his face.
"Wonderful," said Stanton. He turned toward the navigator,
Janess Gomez. "Plot a course for Starbase 347. Warp four. Any
faster and the Cardassians would probably think that we were in a
hurry to get somewhere. Make sure that the sensor dampening field
is on full."
"Aye, sir,"
<09>Commander Prak, you have the con. I'm going to bed." He
tried to stand up and banged his knee on a railing. Like
everywhere else on the ship, the bridge was wretchedly small and
impractical. He had a bruise on his forehead from banging his
head on the doorway every time he entered the bridge.
***
The communicator buzzer woke him with a start. He looked at
the clock and worked out that he had only been asleep for about
half an hour.
"Stanton here," he said sleepily.
"Sorry to wake you," said Commander Prak over the
communicator, "It's just that we've got a Cardassian ship
following us."
"Just what we need. I'll be on the bridge in a second.
Sound the red alert."
He heard the klaxon go off as he put on his robe. Heading
out the door, he was almost run over by Lieutenant Gomez on her
way out of sickbay, still in the process of pulling on a shirt.
After climbing the stairs that led to the bridge, he banged
his head on the doorway.
"Ok, what's the situation?"
"Well, it's a Bulldog-class patrol ship. Give me about five
more minuets and I'll tell you which one. I think he just got
lucky enough to be looking our way while we went by," said Prak.
"Has he tried to contact us?"
"No. In fact, he hasn't sent out any kind of communication
at all."
"That's odd. You'd think he'd want to report the contact."
"He hasn't tried to engage us either. He's just hanging back
there at three hundred megametres, following our every move."
It worried him. He was glad that the Cardassian hadn't told
anyone about them, since they were violating about a dozen UFP-
Cardassian agreements by entering Cardassian space. But it really
bothered him that this particular Cardassian wasn't being as
predictable as he should be.
"Prak, there aren't a lot of ships in this area, are there?"
"No. That's why we chose this route in the first place. A
lot of smugglers use this route too. He might think that we're
just another smuggler."
"That's true. We could outrun him, couldn't we? But a
smuggler pulling away from him at warp 9 would probably seem a bit
unusual to him and he'd probably put two and two together and, if
he's very lucky, come up with four and realize that this is a
Federation vessel and then we have what is known in the diplomatic
trade as an incident.
"We can't let him report back at all. Which is difficult
because, if I'm not mistaken, a Bulldog-class ship outguns us by a
considerable margin, doesn't it? Have you got the specifics on
this particular ship yet, Prak?"
"From his engine emission signature, I believe it to be the
Gradon, assigned to the Cardassian 34th Patrol and Pursuit
Squadron." Prak laughed. "It's known to the people at MilIntCom
as the Triple-P: patrol, pursuit and profits. One of the most
corrupt collection of starship captains in the galaxy."
Stanton thought about this. An expression of sudden
realization crept onto his face.
"Of course! He's following us just outside what he thinks is
our sensor range and waiting until we come to the most remote
section of this virtually unpatrolled area and then he's planning
on closing, boarding us, stealing our cargo and then vaporizing
the ship."
"That would explain why he hasn't reported us," Lieutenant
Gomez interjected.
Stanton nodded and stared at the schematic of the Cardassian
ship on the main viewer.
***
"What do you think he's carrying?" the Cardassian captain
asked his first officer.
"Drugs, probably. This particular route is favored by drug
smugglers. We can probably get a good profit selling it on one of
the border worlds."
"Good. Good." He turned to the operations officer. "Can we
scan the interior of the ship yet?"
"Negative, sir," said the Ops officer. "The interference is
probably caused by a defective shield system. These smugglers are
always using inferior equipment. I suspect that it's nothing to
worry about."
***
"We can't risk having to actually fight him. We'll have to
kill him with the first shot. Prak, on our present course, when
will we pass through the most unpatrolled, remote area in this
section of space?"
Prak examined a chart for a second. "In about an hour."
"Good. Mr. Yakevicz, bring the SDF down to eighty-percent in
the area of the warp coil."
The tactical officer looked at Stanton with a quizzical
expression. "Excuse me, sir."
"Trust me."
"Yes, sir," the warrant-officer said as he made the
adjustment.
"And bring it down to twenty-five percent over the next 45
minuets. Helm, drop speed to warp one starting in about 15
minuets. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.
I'll be back in a moment. Call me if anything weird happens."
With that, Stanton stood up and left the bridge.
***
"Sir, I believe I am detecting the smuggler's warp coil."
"Indeed?" said the captain. "How?"
"I think that he is over-driving his warp drive. If he
continues at this rate, he will have to completely shut down his
warp drive very soon."
The captain smiled. "And then we'll have him."
***
"All right, helm, start decelerating now."
Stanton watched as the speed indicator slowly went from four
down to one.
"Good. Has he started closing yet?" Stanton asked Prak.
"Yes. He should be on top of us in about ten minuets."
Stanton marveled at the predictability of the Cardassian
commander. He tapped his communicator. "Torpedo room, prepare to
fire a three-round burst on my order."
***
"We could probably just transport through that shield of his,
couldn't we?"
"Probably, but it would be safer to knock the shield out with a
minimal weapons charge. The electromagnetic interference might cause
trouble with the transporter."
"That's true," said the Cardassian captain. "Very well, as
soon as he goes to impulse, close to transporting range and fire."
***
"OK, go to full impulse. Shields up."
"Cardassian ship at 500 kilometers and closing," said Prak.
"He hasn't even bothered to raise his shields."
"Ready torpedoes."
"150 Kilometers."
You poor avaricious fool, Stanton thought.
"Fire."
***
The Cardassian captain grinned. "Fire main..."
The operations officer interrupted him. "Sir! Torpedoes!"
"What?" Smugglers never carry torpedoes, he thought.
The floor exploded underneath him.
***
"Damage report on the Cardassian ship," said Stanton.
"The bridge is destroyed. Most of the ship's atmosphere
seems to be leaking out into space. One of the torpedoes seems to
have hit a warp engine. Their containment field seems to be
failing. In about an hour you won't be able to tell that there
was a starship here. I wouldn't recommend hanging about," said
Prak.
"I agree. Helm, original course, warp four," said Stanton.
"I'm going back to bed."
This is a repost of part 2 of Fools in Hell. Some people apparrently had
trouble w/ the formatting on the last posting. This story contains profanity.
Send comments/questions/flames to dw4557@u.cc.utah.edu or
dylan@mu.law.utah.edu.
---------------------------------------------------
2
Lieutenant Vass looked up, startled, from the screen listing
the contents of the CCP that they had received overnight.
"Sir, there's an eyes-only communique here for you," she
said.
Stanton raised an eyebrow. "That's strange. From MilIntCom?"
"No. From FleetCom."
"That really is strange. I wonder what I've done to get
their attention. Let me see it."
She handed him a PADD and he signed for the receipt of the
communique. He read the contents page.
UFP-STARFLEET
FLEETCOM
COMMUNIQUE TO: ROBERT G. STANTON, CDR., 517-23-2355
FOR YOUR EYES ONLY
CONTENTS:
1. MEMORANDUM TO: CDR, USS SIGMUND ROSENBLUM NCC-
38375
FROM: CDR, FLEET COMMAND
2. ORDERS 334987-3406
3. ORDERS 334987-3407
Stanton always hated reading memos from Star Fleet Command.
He thought that their habit of typing in all capitals gave one the
impression of being shouted at. He hit "1" on the selection
window and read the memo.
UFP-STARFLEET
FLEETCOM
SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
STARDATE 45302
MEMORANDUM TO: CDR, USS SIGMUND ROSENBLUM NCC-
38375
FROM: CDR, FLEET COMMAND
SUBJECT: OPERATION FALCON'S NEST
1. THIS IS TO NOTIFY YOU THAT YOU ARE BEING ASSIGNED AS A
SUPPORT VESSEL FOR THE USS ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-D, TO
PARTICIPATE IN OPERATION FALCON'S NEST. ORDERS
ENCLOSED.
2. YOU WILL RENDEZVOUS WITH THE USS ENTERPRISE IN THE
REVLOX IV SYSTEM NO LATER THAN STARDATE 45305.
3. YOUR CLEARANCE FOR STARBASE 347 IS CANCELLED. ORDERS
ENCLOSED.
4. THIS INFORMATION IS TO BE DISTRIBUTED TO PERSONNEL WITH
A SECURITY CLEARANCE OF 3 OR HIGHER ON A NEED TO KNOW BASIS
ONLY.
FOR THE COMMANDER:
J. KEITH HAWS
CPT, GS
ADJUTANT
2 ENCLS.
CF: CDR, GALACTIC EXPLORATION COMMAND
CDR, MILITARY INTELLIGENCE COMMAND
CDR, USS ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-D
Stanton flipped to the other two pages. They were exactly
what the memo said they were: Orders assigning them to Enterprise
and cancelling their leave at Starbase 347.
"Lieutenant Gomez," he said to the Navigator, "plot a course
for Revlox IV."
She was visibly stunned. "What? Aren't we going to Starbase
347?"
"Doesn't look like it, does it?" he said quickly. "Vass,
call up Prak and have him meet me in my quarters."
Stanton stood up to leave. Walking off the bridge, he banged
his head on the doorway.
***
Stanton watched Prak read the memorandum from FleetCom. As
he finished, Prak's expression turned dark and he let out an
exasperated sigh.
"A couple questions," said Stanton. "First and foremost,
what is it? Second, how do we tell the crew that their shore
leave has been cancelled without getting lynched?"
Prak raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'we'?"
"Very funny."
"Sorry. As far as your first question goes, I really can't
think of anything helpful. The Enterprise, as far as I know, has
an exploratory mission. If 'Operation Falcon's Nest' is a
scientific mission, I think that they're going to find us woefully
ill-equipped, ill-manned and, let's face it, ill-tempered to
participate. On the other hand, the security classification
suggests that it's something along the lines of a covert
intelligence mission, and having the Enterprise doing something
like that would have to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard.
Good luck trying to convince somebody that a Galaxy-class ship is
just a freighter that's gone off course."
"Good point. And from the wording, it does seem that
Enterprise is going to be doing most of the work on this one.
We're supporting them."
"Overall, I'd say I have no idea."
"OK. So how do I tell the crew and still keep my life?"
"Can't help you there, either, I'm afraid."
"Great."
***
"Estimated time of arrival at Revlox IV, Lieutenant Gomez?"
asked Stanton.
"2.3 days, sir." Her voice was cold. He'd noticed that the
crew in general had adopted a somewhat surly demeanor since he'd
announced the news of the ship's diversion of course earlier in
the morning.
Announcing it to the crew would probably be considered a
breach of regulations and probably specific orders, but they would
have to find out eventually, and he suspected that the security
classification was just Starfleet being over-dramatic, anyway.
"Prak, can you detect the Enterprise at Revlox IV?"
Prak studied the long-distance scanner display for a moment.
"Yes. There's a ship there and it's definitely the
Enterprise. She's got an engine-emission signature so high you
could read by it."
"Thanks. Oh, by the way, could I see MilIntCom's file on the
Enterprise?" Stanton didn't personally know much about the
Enterprise, except that its captain was probably SFC's favorite
person in the known universe. It was said that Captain Picard's
buttocks had more high-ranking lipstick marks than any other
starship commander in Starfleet.
"The standard service file?" asked Prak.
"No, the 'smut and innuendo' file, I think."
"It'll take me a few minuets to dig it up."
"Thanks."
***
"Welcome to the Enterprise, Admiral," said Captain Picard as
he extended his hand to Admiral Carstairs. He, Commander Riker
and Lieutenant Worf displayed only a minimal amount of anxiety as
the Admiral stepped out of the shuttle. They had received notice
of their new assignment only a few hours previously.
"Thank you, Jean-Luc," the Admiral said as he descended the
steps from his shuttle. "It's good to be back."
"I think that you have met my first officer, Will Riker?"
"Yes," said the Admiral. "I believe we met at a dining-in on
Betazed, if I'm not mistaken."
"I and my crew are most anxious to find out about this new
assignment, Admiral. When would be a good time to brief my
staff?" said Picard.
The Admiral watched as three enlisted men carried his luggage
from the shuttle bay. He turned to follow them and the other
three officers walked along with him.
"Some time early tomorrow, I should think. I'll have my aide
schedule a meeting. I think that you'll like this mission, Jean-
Luc. It'll probably get you another Star Fleet Medal for Valor,"
said Admiral Carstairs.
"None of us are in this for the decorations, Admiral," said
Picard.
"Of course," said Admiral Carstairs as they arrived at his
quarters.
***
Stanford closed the file on the command crew of the
Enterprise. He couldn't believe how boring these people's lives
were. They didn't seem to have a sin between them.
The intercom buzzed. "Sir, this is Prak. We're two hours
away from the rendezvous."
"Thanks. I'll be right up."
He left his quarters and immediately collided with Doctor
Kennedy.
She eyed his forehead. "Didn't I take care of that bruise
already this week?"
"Yes, Doctor, you did. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to be
on the bridge." He didn't get along well with Dr. Kennedy and
didn't care to discuss his habitual clumsiness with her.
As he walked onto the bridge he noticed a large schematic of
a Galaxy-class starship filling the right half of the main viewer
and a visual of what was presumably the Enterprise filling the
left.
"I thought you'd want a look," said Prak.
Stanton nodded. "Look at that monstrosity. Do you realize
that they have over a hundred square feet per person on that ship?
A hundred square feet! And that's just the living quarters! I'll
bet that Captain Picard doesn't have a coolant duct running
through the middle of his quarters." The coolant duct in question
had bothered him ever since he had first taken residence on board
the Rosenblum, and he constantly woke from nightmares of being
flooded by hundreds of litres of the toxic drive coolant fluid.
"And have you seen the size of their bridge?" he continued.
"It's huge. You could play a polo match on that thing."
"I understand that Admiral Carstairs is very fond of Polo,"
added Prak.
"That's what I hear," said Stanton. "All right. Send out a
hail to the Enterprise. Let them know we're here."
Lieutenant Vass sent out a standard greeting from her control
panel. She appeared to listen for a moment, then looked up.
"They say that we should stand by for a few minuets. Admiral
Carstairs wants to speak to us."
They waited. In a moment, the main viewer displayed the
bridge of the Enterprise. Standing at the center of the screen
was Admiral Carstairs, with Captain Picard on his left. Both were
wearing riding outfits and Captain Picard was holding a helmet and
mallet.
Prak raised an eyebrow. Lieutenant Gomez put her head down
on her control panel to conceal her giggling. Stanton had to
pinch himself hard on the wrist to keep from laughing.
The Admiral spoke. "Good afternoon, Captain Stanton. I
apologize for my appearance, but Captain Picard and I were on the
holodeck when you contacted us. I expect that you'll be wanting
to know what your mission is."
"Yes, as a matter of fact," said Stanton, "we were."
"Good," said the Admiral. "We'll be having a complete
briefing tonight after the change-of-command ceremony and the
banquet."
"Change-of-command?" said Stanton, shocked.
"Just a formality. Putting the Rosenblum under the indirect
command of the Captain of the Enterprise."
"I see," said Stanton, slightly insulted.
"I will have my yeoman transmit all the details to you. I'll
see you at nineteen-hundred hours. Good day."
The screen went blank.
The bridge was silent for a moment. "What the hell time is
it?" Stanton said. Over the past months, time had come to mean
increasingly little to him. He looked in vain at the bridge
clock. The clock had been broken for about three months and it
simply flashed "12:00:00" constantly. Nobody seemed to be able to
fix it, least of all, the ship's engineer who, when asked to
repair any piece of equipment, argued that, whatever it was, it
was somebody else's problem and had nothing to do with his job at
all.
***
Section Leader Pyrris started as she heard the communicator
chime. She hit a switch and a man's face appeared on the viewer.
"Section Leader," he greeted her. "This is Trosus, in
command of Surveillance Team 12."
"Yes?" she said, impassively.
"We are conducting a routine surveillance of a Ministry of
Communication clerk named Drin Misek this week."
"I am aware of that, Team Leader."
"Yes, of course," said Trosus, betraying a hint of nervous-
ness. "We had just completed the background check and were going
to clear him after the Daily Movements check was complete, but..."
He paused.
"Yes?" said Pyrris, wondering what could be so important that
it required her attention.
"He attempted to evade us."
"Indeed!" she said, her interest suddenly aroused.
"Yes. He was not actually out of sight for a moment, though,
and I do not believe that he knew that he was being followed. Or
rather, I do not believe that he detected our surveillance team.
He may have reason to think that he is being followed."
"Have you begun a full-scale investigation yet?"
"As soon as I learned of it. And full time surveillance. I
would like your approval for interrogation when we find
something."
"You shall have it. Let me know when it happens. I should
like to be present. The Federation manages to sway so few of our
people, it would be a unique experience to interrogate a
Federation spy."
***
The change of command ceremony had gone badly. Most of the
people from the Rosenblum, mainly Commander Stanton, resented it
and were angry that they were still being kept in the dark. The
officers of the Enterprise didn't seem to be bothered by it at
all, which made Stanton even more angry.
In addition to this, Lieutenant Miles, the commander of the
Rosenblum's small Marine contingent, had taken the Admiral at his
word when, in his instructions, he had ordered "full dress
uniform" for the attendees. Accordingly, he and Sergeant First
Class Kosigan had dressed in their antiquated dress-black
uniforms, similar to the ones that Starfleet had abandoned twenty
years earlier. The uniform included, in the case of Sergeant
Kosigan, several dozen medals, ribbons and badges worn on his left
breast, a custom that Starfleet had long ago abandoned.
This had caused quite a stir as the arrived on the
Enterprise. The crew's reactions ranged from badly disguised
distaste on the part of the Captain and his counselor to a young
crew member who, in apparent ignorance, asked Lieutenant Miles
what planetary government he was from.
Thank God I got them to leave the sabers back on the ship,
thought Stanton.
Now, the banquet was beginning to look like an equal
disaster. The conversation was hellishly uncomfortable.
Commander Riker was flirting endlessly with Lieutenant Gomez, even
in the face of what was an extremely cold reception on her part.
Doctor Kennedy looked like she wanted to poison him. Lt. Cdr.
Troi droned on for about ten minuets on the benefits of having a
ship's counselor.
There was an uncomfortable lull in the conversation. Admiral
Carstairs looked around to see if anyone was about to fill the
void. Seeing no likely candidates, he decided to fill it himself.
"You know, Captain Stanton performed an excellent bit of
maneuvering against a Cardassian patrol ship on his way here.
Actually beat them in combat."
Stanton let out an exasperated sigh and began to rub his eyes
as if they had dust in them. Prak leaned over to him.
"Why the fuck don't we go right the hell ahead and broadcast
it on the Trans-Federation News?" he whispered, smiling. Stanton
wished to God that they hadn't given Carstairs their report
immediately upon arrival.
"Indeed?" said Picard. "Those ships outgun yours
substantively, don't they?"
"Well, yes," said Stanton. The SDF was still, more or less
top secret and he didn't want to be up on charges when somebody at
MilIntCom inevitably listened to a recording of this conversation.
"So how did you do it?" asked Riker.
Asshole, thought Stanton. "You just have to know how the
average Cardassian captain thinks."
"How does the average Cardassian captain think?" said the
android, Data.
"He doesn't," said Stanton with all the finality he could put
into the statement. Nobody seemed to want to pursue the matter.
***
Dinner ended and Admiral Carstairs asked Stanton to stay for
the briefing. Picard and Riker stayed as well. Now we<77>re getting
somewhere, thought Stanton.
<EFBFBD>I expect that you<6F>ll be rather anxious to find out about the
mission,<2C> said the Admiral.
<EFBFBD>That<EFBFBD>s what we<77>d had in mind,<2C> said Stanton calmly.
The Admiral seemed to pause for dramatic effect. He hit a
button and a star chart appeared on the screen behind him. <20>This,
as you no doubt know, is the Romulan Empire.<2E>
Yes, thought Stanton impatiently, get on with it.
<EFBFBD>The Romulan flag-ship... <20> the Admiral began. He paused and
consulted his notes. <20>The Romulan flag-ship Bright Talon.<2E> He
paused again and made a face at his notes as if there was a
mistake with the name. <20>Carrying the Imperial Star Navy Chief of
Staff Admiral Voran,<2C> he continued, <20>left the starbase at
Quintillas V for the Egrexis system on stardate 45112. Their
schedule had it as a five-day journey. However the Bright Talon
arrived at Egrexis III seven days later. The ship was a full two
days late!<21>
Stanton wondered if this was some kind of elaborate practical
joke. Surely they had better things to be doing than watching the
punctuality of the Romulan Imperial High Command.
<EFBFBD>Upon its arrival,<2C>continued the Admiral <20>Admiral Voran
placed a seal on the ships log for that period, making it
impossible for our source in the Empire to get access to it. Even
though we do not know what is in the log, it does suggest that
something very important happened along the way.
<EFBFBD>Our source did have access to information that the ship had
been by several checkpoints along the way, so we have narrowed
down the critical area of space.<2E>
Stanton thought that this was beginning to sound ominous.
<EFBFBD>It is almost certain that the ship spent those two days at
this system here,<2C> said the Admiral, indicating a point on the
chart. <20>Ryzh Nomen.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Where?<3F> said Prak.
***
The room was silent for a long time.
<EFBFBD>So you can see, since we haven<65>t any agents in the field who
can check it out for us, and since it is potentially such an
important target, we really have no choice but to send a ship to
investigate.<2E>
Stanton couldn<64>t believe what he was hearing. <20>My ship?<3F>
<EFBFBD>Yes,<2C> said the Admiral.
<EFBFBD>Doesn<EFBFBD>t this all seem a little dubious to anyone else?<3F> Said
Stanton. <20>I mean, I<>ve never heard of this place. Has anyone?<3F>
<EFBFBD>We have an old Romulan survey report of the system from
about thirty years ago that indicates that the system is of no
value,<2C> the Admiral said. <20>Of course, we believe it to be
disinformation.<2E>
Stanton realized that it was futile to try to dissuade the
Admiral. The decision had probably been made weeks ago.
<EFBFBD>Okay,<2C> he said, exasperated. <20>So what is the Enterprise
going to be doing in all of this.<2E>
Admiral Carstairs looked over at Captain Picard and Commander
Riker uncomfortably. <20>Cover,<2C> he said.
<EFBFBD>Cover?<3F> said Prak, obviously dumbfounded.
<EFBFBD>Yes,<2C> said Admiral Carstairs. <20>We have reclassified the
Rosenblum as NCS-3: a logistical support vessel under the
command of the Enterprise. It is suspected that the Romulans
have been gaining access to our ship registry on a fairly
consistent basis. We need for them to not know your true
mission.<2E>
<EFBFBD>This is the stupidest thing I<>ve ever heard,<2C> Prak hissed
into Stanton<6F>s ear.
***
After the briefing, Stanton wandered down to the ship<69>s
lounge. He needed a drink. Badly.
As he sat at the bar, he saw Yakevicz come up to him.
<EFBFBD>Hello, sir.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Hello,<2C> said Stanton mirthlessly.
<EFBFBD>Have you been to the holodeck they have on this ship?<3F> said
Yakevicz.
<EFBFBD>No, I haven<65>t<EFBFBD>
<EFBFBD>You<EFBFBD>ve got to try it, sir,<2C> said Yakevicz, grinning. <20>It<49>s
almost like the real thing.<2E>
<EFBFBD>I don<6F>t have to.<2E> said Stanton. <20>I<EFBFBD>ve just had the real
thing.<2E>
<EFBFBD>No shit, sir?<3F> said Yakevicz, visibly impressed.
<EFBFBD>Yes. In fact, you, me and everybody else on the Rosenblum have
been screwed by Admiral Carstairs.<2E>
This is the 3rd part of the aforementioned story. This story contains
some profanity, if anyone cares. Send comments/questions/flames to:
dylan@mu.law.utah.edu
dw4557@u.cc.utah.edu
Fools in Hell, part 3: Departure
---------------------------------
3
Stanton put his feet up on the wood-veneer desk, secretly
hoping that his boots would visibly damage the surface. The
temporary office that he had been given on board the
Enterprise was big and comfortable enough, but over the past
two weeks the excessively clean and orderly environment on
the ship had gone well past the point of getting on his
nerves.
The doorbell chimed. <20>Come in,<2C> he said.
Yeoman Graves poked his head in. <20>Sir, the Counselor for the
Enterprise is here to see you. Also, I have some things for
you to sign.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Show her in, Yeoman. I<>ll get to the paperwork in a minute.<2E>
Counselor Troi walked in and sat in the chair nearest his
desk. He put his feet back on the floor.
<EFBFBD>Captain Picard and Admiral Carstairs are somewhat concerned
about the psychological status of your crew,<2C> she said.
Stanton snorted. <20>No doubt.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Yes,<2C> she continued. <20>And I think that the fight yesterday
between two of your marines and our security people-<2D>
<EFBFBD>And how is your Lieutenant Worf doing?<3F> Stanton interrupted,
trying to conceal a smirk.
<EFBFBD>He<EFBFBD>s much better, thank you. I think that the fight
yesterday between two of your marines and our security people
shows that we need to address the emotional health of your
crew.<2E>
Stanton smiled. <20>I don<6F>t think that there<72>s anything wrong
that three months of extended shore-leave couldn<64>t fix.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Yes, well,<2C> she said, <20>I<EFBFBD>m afraid that<61>s not an option at
the moment. But I was thinking that in the next week, before
you leave, I could meet with some of your crew.<2E>
Stanton shrugged. <20>Of course, whoever of my people wishes to
see you can go ahead. You<6F>ll forgive me if I remain
skeptical about the utility of trying to talk people into
liking the fact that they<65>ve been screwed.<2E>
Troi sighed. <20>That<61>s something else that I need to talk
about with you. Captain Picard feels that you<6F>re feeling
angry about the mission. I have to say that I agree with
him. I think you need to talk about this.<2E>
Stanton stared at her for a moment, then smiled. <20>Angry?
Me?<3F> He was interrupted by the door chime.
<EFBFBD>Yes?<3F> said Stanton.
Yeoman Graves stepped in. <20>Sir,<2C> he said, <20>the Admiral just
called and said he wants these things an hour ago.<2E>
Stanton sighed heavily. <20>Counselor,<2C> he said to Troi, <20>this
will only take a minute. All right Mr. Graves, lets have
it.<2E>
Graves gave him the first form. <20>This is the list of
officers eligible for promotion.<2E>
Stanton looked it over cursorily and signed it. <20>Okay.
Next.<2E>
<EFBFBD>This is the work order for the new reactor power couplings.<2E>
<EFBFBD>What?<3F> said Stanton. <20>Didn<64>t the Admiral get the engineer<65>s
note on that? Tell the Admiral that the emissions index is
too high in the upper wavelengths. While we<77>re in the
Neutral Zone we might as well be firing off a flare every
three minutes. I<>m not authorizing it.<2E>
The Yeoman spoke. <20>Um, sir?<3F> he said uncomfortably. <20>I, ah,
also have a memorandum here from the Captain Picard...<2E> He
paused for a moment. <20>Telling you not to cancel any more
work orders,<2C> he finished quickly.
Stanton<EFBFBD>s teeth clenched. He tightened his fist around his
pen so hard that it made an audible crack. He gave the
Yeoman a cold, hard stare and then shot a malicious glance at
Troi.
<EFBFBD>All right, damn it,<2C> he said through clenched teeth as he
furiously signed his name to the document. <20>Next!<21> he said,
nearly shouting.
The Yeoman handed him the next one. <20>This is for some
modifications to the computer due to the ship<69>s official
change in status. Automatic safety stuff, I guess.<2E>
Stanton glanced at it a moment and signed. <20>Anything else?<3F>
<EFBFBD>Nothing to sign, sir,<2C> he said. <20>Doctor Kennedy and
Lieutenant Gomez wanted to know if you could perform a short wedding
service for them, since they won<6F>t have the
opportunity to have it done at Starbase 347.<2E>
Stanton leaned back in his chair and seemed to relax for a
moment. He glanced a Troi for a second and smiled. <20>Owing
to his greater rank, position and experience,<2C> he said, <20>why
doesn<EFBFBD>t Captain Picard do the fucking wedding?<3F>
***
Pyrris walked into the room where the prisoner was being
held. She looked at him. The past week had not been kind to
Drin Misek. He sat limply on the chair in the center of the
room. He had a tired, despairing expression as he stared in
no particular direction.
Ah well, she thought. It<49>ll all be over for him shortly.
<EFBFBD>Misek,<2C> she said to him. <20>We have concluded your case. I
am about to make my report. I wanted to find out if there
was anything you would like to add to your statement before I
enter it into the official record.<2E>
Drin Misek shook his head, still staring at an indeterminate
point on the floor.
<EFBFBD>Very well,<2C> Pyrris said and began to leave. She paused for
a moment and turned back to the prisoner.
<EFBFBD>Is there anything you would like, within reason?<3F> she asked.
<EFBFBD>No,<2C> he mumbled. He was quiet for a moment, then he said:
<EFBFBD>When?<3F>
She was confused for a moment. <20>When what? Oh, I see. Your
execution.<2E>
He nodded.
<EFBFBD>It has been tentatively scheduled for the eighteenth, in ten
days,<2C> she said.
He seemed to be slightly relieved at this news. <20>How will it
be?<3F> he asked.
<EFBFBD>Oh, accidental, I expect.<2E>
***
Commander Fennka<6B>s door opened and Pyrris walked into his
office. A starship commander before entering the Security
Services, he was still an intimidating sight. He was missing
his left eye and the tip of his left ear. Also missing were
the small and ring fingers of his right hand, which he would
explain, when inclined to do so, had been bitten off by
a Klingon during a fight.
As Pyrris stopped about a meter from his desk, he said:
<EFBFBD>Report.<2E>
She handed him the Drin Misek file, glanced at her notes, and
began to speak. <20>Three months ago Drin Misek was obliged to
obtain medical care for one of his children, due to a
potentially fatal illness. Consequently, Misek<65>s financial
situation rapidly deteriorated and he was faced with certain
insurmountable debts. A month later, he was approached by a
man calling himself Palrymth. Misek<65>s description of the man
matches that of Palrymth a-Tigar Ten-ly-Ref, also known as
Palrymth Shakan, also known as Ob Uang, also known as Ped
Xing Wey, a very minor criminal whom we believe to be
employed by various Federation intelligence services.
Palrymth offered to pay Misek<65>s debts in exchange for
information to which Misek had access in the Imperial
Communications office. A month and a half later, Misek
provided Palrymth with the information. Misek was still
awaiting his money when we caught him during a routine
check.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Has Palrymth been apprehended?<3F> Fennka asked.
<EFBFBD>No. He is being followed in order to lead us to his
Federation contact.<2E>
<EFBFBD>What information did Misek supply to Palrymth?<3F>
<EFBFBD>Dates and origins of certain scheduled transmissions. About
a hundred in all. None classified higher than <20>official use
only<EFBFBD> and most without any official classification at all.<2E>
<EFBFBD>To what possible use could the Federation put this
information?<3F> asked Fennka.
<EFBFBD>We do not know. We have passed this information on to the
office of Strategic Reconnaissance to see what they can
find.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Has a date been set for Misek<65>s death?<3F>
<EFBFBD>The eighteenth. I have recommended it be staged as an
accident in order to not overly alarm Palrymth.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Good,<2C> said Fennka. <20>I shall be glad to see this affair
over and done with. I daresay Misek will too.<2E>
***
Stanton groaned as he settled into his chair. The bridge
clock still flashed <20>12:00.<2E> He hit the intercom switch on
the chair.
<EFBFBD>Engineering. Commander Gritch,<2C> said a voice from the
intercom.
<EFBFBD>Gritch,<2C> said Stanton impatiently, <20>we<77>ve had three entire
weeks of repair and resupply. Why the hell isn<73>t the damn
bridge clock working?<3F>
<EFBFBD>Hey,<2C> said Gritch, <20>I never got a work order for it.<2E>
<EFBFBD>I sent one to you.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Well, I never got it.<2E>
Pointless, thought Stanton. He sighed. <20>Okay. Fine.<2E>
He switched off the intercom.
<EFBFBD>Somebody tell me when it<69>s 1400, okay?<3F> he announced. Gomez
nodded to him and he settled back in his chair and watched
one of the secondary monitors, which for some reason was
showing a late-21st century detective movie.
***
<EFBFBD>It<EFBFBD>s 1400, sir,<2C> Lieutenant Gomez said.
Stanton tore himself away from the film and looked at the
communications officer. <20>Okay, call up Enterprise and tell
them that we<77>re ready.<2E>
She nodded and Admiral Carstairs and Captain Picard appeared
on the main viewer.
He was dreading this part. Captain Picard had reminded him
earlier that it was traditional for captains to say something
historical and profound upon leaving on a new mission. The
Admiral would be expecting it. Picard had suggested just
stating his ship<69>s motto. As far as Stanton knew, it didn<64>t
have one. It was now time to leave and he still hadn<64>t
thought of anything.
<EFBFBD>Admiral,<2C> Stanton said. <20>We are ready to depart.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Commander,<2C> said the Admiral, <20>this is a very important and
dangerous mission upon which you are about to embark. The
Federation will be eternally grateful to you.<2E>
Bullshit, thought Stanton, A week from now you<6F>ll be in front
of a committee swearing blind that you<6F>ve never even heard of
us.
Picard and Carstairs were looking at him expectantly.
He drew a long breath. <20>Um, thank you, Admiral.<2E> He adopted
what he thought might pass for a noble demeanor. <20>We, uh, do
this for the safety and, um, peace of mind...<2E> God, he
thought, this sounds terrible. <20>Of the United Federation of
Planets,<2C> he continued. Admiral Carstairs and Captain Picard
were still looking at him as if he should say something else,
so he searched his mind for something that would sound good
and said, finally, <20>Morde manubrium meum.<2E>
They both looked satisfied at this and the Admiral smiled and
said: <20>Good luck.<2E> The screen went blank.
Stanton sighed. <20>Helm,<2C> he said, <20>ahead warp eight.<2E>
***
<EFBFBD>Two minutes to Neutral Zone,<2C> said Prak.
Stanton gripped the armrest of the chair. He had been hoping
that there would be a last minute call from Carstairs saying,
<EFBFBD>It<EFBFBD>s all been a terrible mistake. Return immediately.<2E> But
the comm board was annoyingly silent.
<EFBFBD>Sixty seconds.<2E>
<EFBFBD>For God<6F>s sake, make sure Gritch has those power couplings
locked down,<2C> said Stanton. He had images of being vaporized
by a Romulan plasma weapon seconds after entering the zone.
<EFBFBD>Thirty seconds.<2E>
This is insane, thought Stanton. Don<6F>t do it. Just turn
around. Resign your commission. You<6F>ll be up on charges but
at least you<6F>ll be alive.
<EFBFBD>Ten seconds. Five...four...three...two...one. We<57>re-<2D>
Prak was interrupted by a loud, abrasive screeching noise
followed by the voice of the ship<69>s computer.
<EFBFBD>This is to advise you that this ship has passed into the
area known as the Federation-Romulan Neutral Zone,<2C> said the
computer. <20>Entry into this area is prohibited under the
terms of the Federation-Romulan Treaty of 2261, Article 2 of
the Federation Code, Starfleet Regulation 10-1 and Article 4
of the Starfleet Justice Code. You are hereby ordered to
reverse course and return to Federation space.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Prak,<2C> said Stanton, <20>what the hell was that?<3F>
<EFBFBD>I<EFBFBD>m checking.<2E>
A moment later Prak spoke. <20>It<49>s a warning from a piece of
hardware that all NCS-3 ships - which includes us, now - have
to have. From what I can tell, it seems to be a safety
device meant to keep lower-eschelon commanders from violating
too many regs.<2E>
Stanton frowned. <20>Is it going to be bothering us much more
on this trip?<3F>
<EFBFBD>I can<61>t tell. The computer keeps the contents and workings
of the device secret by Starfleet directive. Probably to
prevent tampering.<2E>
<EFBFBD>I<EFBFBD>m insulted,<2C> said Stanton. <20>Well, just keep an eye on it.
And keep an eye on those power couplings. I have a bad
feeling about those. Let me see the map.<2E>
Prak hit a switch and a star-map of the Romulan Empire.
Since the Federation had so little first-hand information
about the interior of the Empire, particularly in the field of
military installations, the MilIntCom had given what
information it had to a collection of historians, strategists
and exopsychologists. They had come up with this map.
<EFBFBD>But is it any good?<3F> Stanton had asked Prak when they first
saw it.
Prak had simply shrugged.
***
<EFBFBD>Five minutes to Romulan space.<2E>
Stanton was somewhat more relaxed now. If they were going to
be spotted by the Romulan monitors, they would have been
already.
As they crossed into Romulan space, there was a palpable sigh
of relief from everyone on the bridge.
<EFBFBD>Okay, Prak,<2C> said Stanton. <20>Start your passive scanning.
Let<EFBFBD>s see if we can start confirming that ma-<2D>
Stanton was interrupted by the abrasive screeching noise from
hours before.
<EFBFBD>This is to advise you,<2C> said the computer, <20>that you have
entered an area of space claimed by the Romulan Star Empire.
This is a violation of Federation-Romulan Treaty of 2261,
Article 12-2 of the Federation Code, Starfleet Regulation 2-2
and Article 12 of the Starfleet Justice Code and may be
considered a provocative act by the Romulan Imperial
Government.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Oh, God,<2C> said Stanton. <20>Not this again.<2E>
<EFBFBD>In order to prevent official entanglement with the Romulan
Empire, this ship<69>s position will be broadcast, together with
a disavowal of any responsibility, if this ship does not
depart Romulan space within fifteen minutes.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Broadcast?<3F> said Stanton. <20>What the hell does it mean,
broadcast?<3F> He looked at Lieutenant Vass.
Lieutenant Vass was panic-stricken as she examined the comm
board. <20>I think...Sir, I think it<69>s gone and taken control
of the communications array. I think it<69>s going to broadcast
it from our ship.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Oh fuck,<2C> said Stanton. <20>Prak, any chance you can stop it.<2E>
Prak shook his head. <20>The instruction is hard-wired in.
We<EFBFBD>d need hours to remove the module properly.<2E>
<EFBFBD>How about improperly?<3F>
<EFBFBD>We<EFBFBD>d cause damage that would be irreparable and probably
fatal. It<49>s in the same area of the computer that runs the
life support system.<2E>
Stanton nodded and turned to the navigator. <20>Any chance we
can actually get out in time?<3F>
Gomez shook her head. <20>To decelerate, reverse course and get out would
take twenty minutes.<2E>
<EFBFBD>Fourteen minutes,<2C> the computer announced.
<EFBFBD>Damn,<2C> said Stanton. <20>Okay, Prak. Get one of your computer
intrusion people up here.<2E>
***
As CW1 Brisque walked onto the bridge she looked at Prak then
at Stanton, apparrently for instructions.
<EFBFBD>Eleven minutes,<2C> announced the computer.
Stanton indicated the overhead speaker from which the
countdown was coming. <20>Stop that.<2E>
She nodded and Prak directed her to his bridge station.
Within five minutes the countdown stopped. In another five
minutes the main viewer went blank for a moment, then filled
with a screen of scrolling text.
Stanton examined the text for a moment, then blushed
slightly. <20>What the hell is this?<3F> he said.
<EFBFBD>I couldn<64>t stop the computer from executing the
transmission,<2C> Brisque explained, <20>so I just changed the
transmitter access address. It thinks it<69>s transmitting
right now.<2E>
<EFBFBD>But what is this?<3F> Stanton persisted.
Prak looked at his monitor. <20>It says <20>File 32168436-a4:
Kurq<EFBFBD>s Encyclopedia of Exoerotica.<2E><>
<EFBFBD>Well, see if you can move it to one of the other monitors,<2C>
Stanton said as he settled in his chair.
<EFBFBD>This is going to be one long fuck of a trip. I can tell
already.<2E>
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