Solaris burst into the system and instantly traveled at a relaxed speed of sixteen thousand kilometers per second …
“Transwarp completed, Captain.” Lieutenant Ian McKinnon tapped on the helm console preparing the ship to handle inter-system travel. He wore thin gloves when on deck to pilot the ship. It was a quirk Kathryn learned to appreciate over the years.
Interrupting her own musings, Kathryn turned her attention to the main view screen. The tension on the bridge grew. Standing, she queried, “how soon to Delphi Station?”
The outpost had been built on the outer fringes of declared Federation space toward the galactic rim. It’s primary mission was meant to research the Galactic Barrier phenomenon. Two days ago, Solaris received an automated distress signal through subspace. Kathryn’s concern was that the time stamp on the message was two days older than when it was received. With the station being so remote, Solaris was the closest ship to respond. And with the message mysteriously being “old”, Kathryn redlined the Transwarp Drive.
The Science Chief responded, “At present speed, five minutes.” Omazei, a female Trill, was the second-longest serving Senior Officer on the bridge with Kathryn. She turned to look at the main screen, confident she would not miss new telemetry. “Long-range visual is available.”
“View and magnify image,” Kathryn ordered.
As the scene shifted from a blurry star-field to the Starfleet outpost, everyone on the bridge gasped with surprise and terror.
+++
Two Hours Later, Deck 16, Cargo Bay 4
Four more bodies materialized on the transporter pad. The cargo bay had transformed into a makeshift morgue as the station crew was too numerous to be housed elsewhere. Chief Medical Officer Annika Kramer also wanted to preserve the dead in their already frozen state in order to conduct autopsies. Wearing an environmental suit and waving a tricorder, she was crouched over a previously delivered crewperson. A yeoman stood nearby with a PADD, entering information relayed by Doctor Kramer.
Standing in the cargo bay, wearing her own suit, Kathryn somberly looked upon the grim scene. Forty-seven crew were found floating outside their remote outpost. Initial scans did not reveal they were attacked from external sources and the station itself was not damaged, although the docking port doors were open, exposing the station to the vacuum of space. With the four recent arrivals, the station’s crew was accounted fully in the cargo bay.
Behind Kathryn, the decontamination chamber cycled and First Officer Anthi Ythysi stepped into the cargo bay. The tall Andorian stopped next to Kathryn and presented a PADD wrapped in a protective sheath. Standing at attention to respect the dead, she reported, “The station team reports no structural damage to the station at all. The team leader hopes to have more news within two hours.”
Kathryn accepted the PADD and scrolled through data already abridged by the XO, more to distract her from the scene in the cargo bay than to question Anthi’s summary. “Out of curiosity, does any of the crew have family from the station?”
“No, sir.”
“Good news, I suppose.”
Anthi stood silent in response, which was typical for her, much to Kathryn’s esteem. Andorians were not known to be verbose, and for moments like this, only duty would help solve the puzzle of the station’s demise.
Annika walked up to the pair of officers. “Captain, I’m not finding definite answers here. Although I have not examined the four that just arrived, it’s a sure bet they’ll have similar conditions as everyone else: extreme levels of Adrenaline, Norepinephrine and Cortisol.”
“Those are stress hormones,” Kathryn declared.
Nodding, Annika continued. “Everyone on Delphi Station was under extreme duress of some kind. My educated guess is that they were under fight or flight conditions. There is no physical trauma like you’d expect from explosive decompression.” She sighed. “Unless a more immediate cause is determined, I’m leaning toward a dreadful conclusion: mass suicide.”
Kathryn looked to the report about the fully intact structural integrity of the station. The equation was looking bad. “Personal logs will need to be reviewed, if there are any of course.”
Annika huffed in her suit as she looked to the transporter pad. “I’ll finish here soon and send my report.”
Kathryn turned her suit to face Anthi and nodded toward the decompression chamber as a sign to exit. “Let us leave Annika to her work.”
“I’m sure she would enjoy not being watched, sir.”
+++
Several minutes later, leaving Cargo Bay 4 …
“Any news on why didn’t we receive the distress call in time?”
Anthi looked to Kathryn as they walked toward a turbolift. “Omazei completed a level one diagnostic of the transceiver and subspace communication logs. All systems are functioning as expected. She does have a reasonably plausible theory and it involves the Tyrant Star Cluster.”
Kathryn abruptly stopped, clearly surprised by the comment. “It’s due to return?”
Nodding, Anthi continued. “It already did. As you know, the stellar phenomenon appears randomly at the galactic rim every one hundred years. Telemetry revealed the Cluster appeared approximately twenty light years away from the station … four days ago.”
Kathryn raised a hand to her chin as she collated information about the tragedy at Delphi Station. “The time stamp on the distress signal was four days ago.”
“Indeed. The graviton shock wave created from the Cluster’s sudden appearance in our reality also caused a time dilation in subspace. This best explains that while the message was sent four days ago in real time, we received the message two days ago”
Saddened by the revelation, Kathryn decided to continue walking as the information swirled in her head. “The crew asked for help, and no one would have heard them.”
Anthi followed her Captain in muted agreement.
---
Cast For Crew:
Kathryn Beringer - Katheryn Winnick
Anthi Ythysi - Monique Ganderton
Omazei - Gemma Arterton
Annika Kramer - Abbie Cornish
Ian McKinnon - Ben Browder
Seen but not heard:
Yeoman – Male street extra 1
Thursday, February 15, 2018
Saturday, February 10, 2018
A Patriot's Game
Kathryn stood straight while looking at the data scrolling on the display. “No offense S’Rel, but are you sure, absolutely sure?”
The female Vulcan sitting at her Operations station on the bridge nodded at the screen. “Yes, sir. Verification protocols were followed along with my own diagnostic. The worm was manually installed by attaché Motira, shortly after we departed New Romulus.”
Scanning the data, Kathryn whispered to herself, “holodeck, medical, a munitions locker and ... the engine room?” She looked away feeling confused, yet some action had to be done to stop further hemorrhaging of data. “Isolate and five-layer encrypt all records. Use whatever resources you need to purge every nanobyte of that worm code from the core. Then send this information to my ready room.” She turned to the Andorian First Officer. “Anthi, I need to speak with Ambassador V’Sar, immediately.”
“Aye, Captain.”
+++
The Romulan Ambassador finished reviewing the information from the screen, his face contorted with disappointment. Spinning the desktop display toward Kathryn, he sat back into the chair.
Kathryn sat motionless wearing a determined countenance. “I wanted you to see the evidence first. I must admit, it was sloppy work for Tal Shiar agent. Regardless, I trust you will allow me to detain Motira.”
V’Sar sighed uncharacteristically and nodded. “I trust you believe me when I say this is a complete surprise. How the Tal Shiar maintains effort to meddle in Republican affairs disturbs me.”
“How you are certain this is about the Romulan Republic? The worm was a digital recorder of specific sections on this ship, which is a well-known design. Unless –,“ Kathryn had the thousand-yard stare for a brief moment, but long enough for V’Sar to look at her questioningly. She tapped her combadge and stood. “Security, locate Romulan Attaché Motira and escort her to the Brig, expect resistance.”
“Captain?” V’Sar was clearly confused.
She moved around the desk and toward the door and then stopped to look at V’Sar. “The Tal Shiar program was an old one, which is how we were able to find it, and Motira has explicit surveillance for a reason. You can come with me, or you can stay here. Either way, it may not matter unless we stop her.”
V’Sar stood and demanded, “What are your thoughts Captain Beringer?”
“I think Motira plans to blow up the ship.”
+++
Deck 15
Sitting at the bar of the Headsail Lounge, Motira was looking into an empty glass; the Tamarian Frost was very tasty and the spice flavor lingered on her lips. Long dark brown hair fell to cover the sides of her face. As people had been entering and leaving the Lounge, she did not realize the security detail enter the room. Wearing traditional Romulan clothing made her easily stand out, even if she was the only one sitting at the bar.
Only when she noticed the bartender behind the bar back away from the direction of the main entrance, did she gather something was different.
I had hoped to have one more day, she thought to herself. Casually turning in her seat, she took stock of the two human males; one dark-skinned and the other lighter, both bulky and tall enough to prove the intimidation they exuded. Motira scoffed at the idea and then raised an eyebrow noticing they wore phasers at their hips.
The lighter-skinned one took a step forward. “Attaché Motira, please come with us.”
She looked around the Lounge and counted six others, who were looking at the situation calmly and quietly, before responding. “I am a representative of the Romulan Republic. What is the meaning of this?”
“We have been ordered to escort you for safety reasons.”
“Is there an emergency?”
The officer’s hand moved halfway to the phaser. “I do apologize for the inconvenience. Please come with us.”
Motira shrugged and casually strolled past the security detail to exit the Headsail Lounge.
+++
Deck 9
The Turbolift doors opened and Motira stepped into the hallway, the burley security team quietly following her. Turning a corner, she stopped as she noticed V’Sar and Kathryn waiting outside the doors to the Holding Cells several meters away. “Amabssador, do you know what is going on?”
V’Sar’s sneered. “Tal Shiar scum.”
The comment shocked Kathryn and Motria alike. Kathryn raised her hands to calm the Ambassador. “V’Sar, I think we-“
“For the Empire”, shouted Motira. She balled a fist to backhand the security guard to her left, and then side kicked the guard to the right. Both were thrown against walls, arms flailing from the shock attack. She quickly reached for a phaser and swiveled toward the pair down the hallway, quickly pressing buttons to adjust the beam setting.
Kathryn recovered from Motira’s surprise assault on the security team. “Motira, stand down! Whatever you’re plans, it’s done.”
Motira looked to the guards and comforted with them incapacitated, she stalked a few steps forward. “I just needed one more day,” she said aloud.
V’Sar stood motionless and relaxed even with the phaser trained on him. “One day or a thousand years from now, the Star Empire is part of the history books. New Romulus is the future.”
“Maybe so, but patriots like me will make every step to that future more difficult than the last.” She gritted her teeth as she prepared to fire.
The Ambassador pushed Kathryn away, the counter-force propelling him toward Motira. The phaser beam connected the two Romulans and V’Sar was wrapped in a cocoon of light. Not expecting the Ambassador to wear a personal shield, Motira stood surprised.
Without stopping, V’Sar charged Motira. He knocked the phaser out of her hand and then reached to choke the Attaché. She gasped for air and buckled to her knees, struggling against his grip.
A phaser emitter touched V’Sar’s temple, forcing him to pause. He looked to see Kathryn standing over him. “That’s enough Ambassador; I think the Republic is victorious this day.”
V’Sar grinned and released his grip to stand. Motira collapsed as she coughed in defeat. He regained his regal poise before reaching into the folds of his diplomatic uniform. Revealing a small device, he handed it to Kathryn. “Thank you for your assistance, Captain Beringer. I apologize to your crew for the inconvenience.”
Lowering the phaser, she replied, “indeed.” Accepting the cube-shaped shield projector, Kathryn added, “neat trick.”
“A man in my position can make enemies very quickly, wouldn’t you agree?”
Kathryn lifted Motira from the floor. The security team had recovered and escorted the Romulan toward the holding cells. She watched them disappear before turning to V’Sar. “What do you mean, ‘assistance’?”
The Ambassador became smug. “I must apologize, Captain. I knew there was a spy within the Ambassadorial coterie but was unable to discover who it was. Our presence aboard this ship was not only for diplomatic reasons, but also as a vehicle, so to speak, to find, flush and neutralize the agent. Or traitor, depending on who it was, of course.”
Kathryn's eyes narrowed. "Of course."
___
Cast For Crew:
Kathryn Beringer - Katheryn Winnick
Anthi Ythysi - Monique Ganderton
S'Rel - Morena Baccarin
Ambassador V'Sar - Michael Fassbender
Attaché Motira – Priyanka Chopra
Security Officer 1 - Male street extra 1
Security Officer 2 - Male street extra 2
The female Vulcan sitting at her Operations station on the bridge nodded at the screen. “Yes, sir. Verification protocols were followed along with my own diagnostic. The worm was manually installed by attaché Motira, shortly after we departed New Romulus.”
Scanning the data, Kathryn whispered to herself, “holodeck, medical, a munitions locker and ... the engine room?” She looked away feeling confused, yet some action had to be done to stop further hemorrhaging of data. “Isolate and five-layer encrypt all records. Use whatever resources you need to purge every nanobyte of that worm code from the core. Then send this information to my ready room.” She turned to the Andorian First Officer. “Anthi, I need to speak with Ambassador V’Sar, immediately.”
“Aye, Captain.”
+++
The Romulan Ambassador finished reviewing the information from the screen, his face contorted with disappointment. Spinning the desktop display toward Kathryn, he sat back into the chair.
Kathryn sat motionless wearing a determined countenance. “I wanted you to see the evidence first. I must admit, it was sloppy work for Tal Shiar agent. Regardless, I trust you will allow me to detain Motira.”
V’Sar sighed uncharacteristically and nodded. “I trust you believe me when I say this is a complete surprise. How the Tal Shiar maintains effort to meddle in Republican affairs disturbs me.”
“How you are certain this is about the Romulan Republic? The worm was a digital recorder of specific sections on this ship, which is a well-known design. Unless –,“ Kathryn had the thousand-yard stare for a brief moment, but long enough for V’Sar to look at her questioningly. She tapped her combadge and stood. “Security, locate Romulan Attaché Motira and escort her to the Brig, expect resistance.”
“Captain?” V’Sar was clearly confused.
She moved around the desk and toward the door and then stopped to look at V’Sar. “The Tal Shiar program was an old one, which is how we were able to find it, and Motira has explicit surveillance for a reason. You can come with me, or you can stay here. Either way, it may not matter unless we stop her.”
V’Sar stood and demanded, “What are your thoughts Captain Beringer?”
“I think Motira plans to blow up the ship.”
+++
Deck 15
Sitting at the bar of the Headsail Lounge, Motira was looking into an empty glass; the Tamarian Frost was very tasty and the spice flavor lingered on her lips. Long dark brown hair fell to cover the sides of her face. As people had been entering and leaving the Lounge, she did not realize the security detail enter the room. Wearing traditional Romulan clothing made her easily stand out, even if she was the only one sitting at the bar.
Only when she noticed the bartender behind the bar back away from the direction of the main entrance, did she gather something was different.
I had hoped to have one more day, she thought to herself. Casually turning in her seat, she took stock of the two human males; one dark-skinned and the other lighter, both bulky and tall enough to prove the intimidation they exuded. Motira scoffed at the idea and then raised an eyebrow noticing they wore phasers at their hips.
The lighter-skinned one took a step forward. “Attaché Motira, please come with us.”
She looked around the Lounge and counted six others, who were looking at the situation calmly and quietly, before responding. “I am a representative of the Romulan Republic. What is the meaning of this?”
“We have been ordered to escort you for safety reasons.”
“Is there an emergency?”
The officer’s hand moved halfway to the phaser. “I do apologize for the inconvenience. Please come with us.”
Motira shrugged and casually strolled past the security detail to exit the Headsail Lounge.
+++
Deck 9
The Turbolift doors opened and Motira stepped into the hallway, the burley security team quietly following her. Turning a corner, she stopped as she noticed V’Sar and Kathryn waiting outside the doors to the Holding Cells several meters away. “Amabssador, do you know what is going on?”
V’Sar’s sneered. “Tal Shiar scum.”
The comment shocked Kathryn and Motria alike. Kathryn raised her hands to calm the Ambassador. “V’Sar, I think we-“
“For the Empire”, shouted Motira. She balled a fist to backhand the security guard to her left, and then side kicked the guard to the right. Both were thrown against walls, arms flailing from the shock attack. She quickly reached for a phaser and swiveled toward the pair down the hallway, quickly pressing buttons to adjust the beam setting.
Kathryn recovered from Motira’s surprise assault on the security team. “Motira, stand down! Whatever you’re plans, it’s done.”
Motira looked to the guards and comforted with them incapacitated, she stalked a few steps forward. “I just needed one more day,” she said aloud.
V’Sar stood motionless and relaxed even with the phaser trained on him. “One day or a thousand years from now, the Star Empire is part of the history books. New Romulus is the future.”
“Maybe so, but patriots like me will make every step to that future more difficult than the last.” She gritted her teeth as she prepared to fire.
The Ambassador pushed Kathryn away, the counter-force propelling him toward Motira. The phaser beam connected the two Romulans and V’Sar was wrapped in a cocoon of light. Not expecting the Ambassador to wear a personal shield, Motira stood surprised.
Without stopping, V’Sar charged Motira. He knocked the phaser out of her hand and then reached to choke the Attaché. She gasped for air and buckled to her knees, struggling against his grip.
A phaser emitter touched V’Sar’s temple, forcing him to pause. He looked to see Kathryn standing over him. “That’s enough Ambassador; I think the Republic is victorious this day.”
V’Sar grinned and released his grip to stand. Motira collapsed as she coughed in defeat. He regained his regal poise before reaching into the folds of his diplomatic uniform. Revealing a small device, he handed it to Kathryn. “Thank you for your assistance, Captain Beringer. I apologize to your crew for the inconvenience.”
Lowering the phaser, she replied, “indeed.” Accepting the cube-shaped shield projector, Kathryn added, “neat trick.”
“A man in my position can make enemies very quickly, wouldn’t you agree?”
Kathryn lifted Motira from the floor. The security team had recovered and escorted the Romulan toward the holding cells. She watched them disappear before turning to V’Sar. “What do you mean, ‘assistance’?”
The Ambassador became smug. “I must apologize, Captain. I knew there was a spy within the Ambassadorial coterie but was unable to discover who it was. Our presence aboard this ship was not only for diplomatic reasons, but also as a vehicle, so to speak, to find, flush and neutralize the agent. Or traitor, depending on who it was, of course.”
Kathryn's eyes narrowed. "Of course."
___
Cast For Crew:
Kathryn Beringer - Katheryn Winnick
Anthi Ythysi - Monique Ganderton
S'Rel - Morena Baccarin
Ambassador V'Sar - Michael Fassbender
Attaché Motira – Priyanka Chopra
Security Officer 1 - Male street extra 1
Security Officer 2 - Male street extra 2
Friday, February 2, 2018
History In Hand
The doors to the holodeck swished open and inside the darkened room stood the Chief of Security. Bur’ar was unusually tall for a Klingon, yet had the traditional gruff demeanor of a tireless warrior. He stood with arms crossed behind a table with an assortment of pistols arrayed.
Kathryn felt lucky to have Bur’ar aboard Solaris. He had escorted her on many away missions over the two years he served with her and she trusted his judgment without reservation. They didn’t commiserate frequently though not against her own attempts to get to know the senior staff. She walked up to the table confidently. “Chief.”
Saluting dutifully, Bur’ar replied, “Captain, I hope you have kept your aim true?”
She smiled. “Of course! I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the ship’s sharpshooter.”
The corners of Bur’ar’s lips lifted slightly from the compliment. “Indeed.” He looked to the weapons on the table. “Which pistol would you care to test your skills with today?”
Kathryn lifted a standard issue phaser and pointed it down the cavernous room with an eye closed, aiming at an imaginary target. “Tell me Lieutenant, have you considered the aesthetic of the Federation phaser pistol?”
Bur’ar lifted one and contemplated as he turned it over in his hand. “Yes. Compared to the standard Klingon disruptor, the grip causes unnecessary strain to hand and wrist muscles.” He also pointed the Phaser into the room to mimic Kathryn, and then lowered his arm but kept his aim to the imaginary target. “The design is certainly functional for short-duration use. As you know, my preference is for rifle variants in a protracted engagement.”
She nodded in agreement and looked over the gleaming white pistol, even in the subdued light. “Would you say it is an elegant weapon?”
“It matches the Federation aesthetic.”
Rolling her eyes, Kathryn giggled softly. “You really don’t care too much about it, do you.”
“No, sir.”
Kathryn reached behind her back and pulled out another pistol she had secreted. It was greyish-silver with rounded corners along a rectangular action. The grip extended at an angle from the front end of the action. She proudly displayed it to Bur’ar, who simply stared at the device. “Are you familiar with this?”
“It’s a Type II Phaser Compression pistol, Federation issued in 2275, discontinued in 2285. I’m impressed you have one.”
“Thank you. I found it from a trader of-sorts on Nimbus III, who specialized in exotic items. I’m not an aficionado, but this style always appealed to me, when I studied military history, of course. To me, this weapon hails from the frontier-like reality of the 23rd century Federation: familiar yet new, safe yet dangerous, unique yet functional.” She lifted it with both hands, signaling a readiness to use it. “I did have to replace the emitters, which was a technical challenge.” She looked up to the tall Klingon. “I’ve been practicing with this.”
Bur’ar looked skeptical. “If you wish, we can begin the test.”
Kathryn smirked and she activated the phaser. It primed with a hum that faded after a few seconds, and then pressed a button on the pistol’s display to its lowest setting. “Mind a few warm-up shots first?”
The Klingon nodded and tapped a few commands into a PADD resting on the table. The lights dimmed further as Kathryn stepped toward the middle of the room where a blue ring appeared on the floor. Five yellow fist-sized spheres materialized ten meters away from Kathryn and within seconds were orbiting eye-level to her and equidistant to each other.
A buzzer activated and Kathryn aimed her pistol. An orange-colored beam sizzled and growled as it connected with a sphere, which flashed before dissipating. The remaining targets increased in velocity, yet maintaining their orbit. Kathryn tracked another sphere until another beam lanced the target. Three more shots; Kathryn missing the last.
The lights of the room bloomed slightly signaling the exercise was complete. Kathryn looked to Bur’ar, who nodded with quiet acceptance.
“You did well … for a warm-up … with an antiquated weapon.”
Kathryn smiled mischievously. “That’s high praise coming from you, Lieutenant.”
Bur’ar huffed. “The test begins when you are ready. Do you wish to continue with that weapon?”
“I was holding back, you know.”
The lights dimmed, and from the darkness Bur’ar replied, “prove it.”
---
Cast For Crew:
Kathryn Beringer - Katheryn Winnick
Bur'ar - David Ramsey
Kathryn felt lucky to have Bur’ar aboard Solaris. He had escorted her on many away missions over the two years he served with her and she trusted his judgment without reservation. They didn’t commiserate frequently though not against her own attempts to get to know the senior staff. She walked up to the table confidently. “Chief.”
Saluting dutifully, Bur’ar replied, “Captain, I hope you have kept your aim true?”
She smiled. “Of course! I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the ship’s sharpshooter.”
The corners of Bur’ar’s lips lifted slightly from the compliment. “Indeed.” He looked to the weapons on the table. “Which pistol would you care to test your skills with today?”
Kathryn lifted a standard issue phaser and pointed it down the cavernous room with an eye closed, aiming at an imaginary target. “Tell me Lieutenant, have you considered the aesthetic of the Federation phaser pistol?”
Bur’ar lifted one and contemplated as he turned it over in his hand. “Yes. Compared to the standard Klingon disruptor, the grip causes unnecessary strain to hand and wrist muscles.” He also pointed the Phaser into the room to mimic Kathryn, and then lowered his arm but kept his aim to the imaginary target. “The design is certainly functional for short-duration use. As you know, my preference is for rifle variants in a protracted engagement.”
She nodded in agreement and looked over the gleaming white pistol, even in the subdued light. “Would you say it is an elegant weapon?”
“It matches the Federation aesthetic.”
Rolling her eyes, Kathryn giggled softly. “You really don’t care too much about it, do you.”
“No, sir.”
Kathryn reached behind her back and pulled out another pistol she had secreted. It was greyish-silver with rounded corners along a rectangular action. The grip extended at an angle from the front end of the action. She proudly displayed it to Bur’ar, who simply stared at the device. “Are you familiar with this?”
“It’s a Type II Phaser Compression pistol, Federation issued in 2275, discontinued in 2285. I’m impressed you have one.”
“Thank you. I found it from a trader of-sorts on Nimbus III, who specialized in exotic items. I’m not an aficionado, but this style always appealed to me, when I studied military history, of course. To me, this weapon hails from the frontier-like reality of the 23rd century Federation: familiar yet new, safe yet dangerous, unique yet functional.” She lifted it with both hands, signaling a readiness to use it. “I did have to replace the emitters, which was a technical challenge.” She looked up to the tall Klingon. “I’ve been practicing with this.”
Bur’ar looked skeptical. “If you wish, we can begin the test.”
Kathryn smirked and she activated the phaser. It primed with a hum that faded after a few seconds, and then pressed a button on the pistol’s display to its lowest setting. “Mind a few warm-up shots first?”
The Klingon nodded and tapped a few commands into a PADD resting on the table. The lights dimmed further as Kathryn stepped toward the middle of the room where a blue ring appeared on the floor. Five yellow fist-sized spheres materialized ten meters away from Kathryn and within seconds were orbiting eye-level to her and equidistant to each other.
A buzzer activated and Kathryn aimed her pistol. An orange-colored beam sizzled and growled as it connected with a sphere, which flashed before dissipating. The remaining targets increased in velocity, yet maintaining their orbit. Kathryn tracked another sphere until another beam lanced the target. Three more shots; Kathryn missing the last.
The lights of the room bloomed slightly signaling the exercise was complete. Kathryn looked to Bur’ar, who nodded with quiet acceptance.
“You did well … for a warm-up … with an antiquated weapon.”
Kathryn smiled mischievously. “That’s high praise coming from you, Lieutenant.”
Bur’ar huffed. “The test begins when you are ready. Do you wish to continue with that weapon?”
“I was holding back, you know.”
The lights dimmed, and from the darkness Bur’ar replied, “prove it.”
---
Cast For Crew:
Kathryn Beringer - Katheryn Winnick
Bur'ar - David Ramsey
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
Was She Wrong?
“Prime Directive, bah,” grumbled the senior Klingon. Grannon Trex took a swig from the flagon directly. His mood soured as he placed the container back on the table to look at Admiral Tracy Kent and then pointed a finger at her. “You know, there are still circles within the Empire that believes the Federation should be conquering planets. Starfleet is a formidable navy, I should know.” His aging, yet clean, beard dangled from his frown.
The Admiral smirked before taking a sip from her wine glass. The flickering light from the torches on the outside deck reflected from her long, straight dark black hair. “Maybe so … to be fair, there are circles within Starfleet that believe the same.”
Opposite the Admiral sat Commodore Matthew Calgar. His barrel-chested build was betrayed by the sudden uneasiness of the conversation. Matthew reached for his own glass and poured some of Grannon’s effective drink. “Come now, let’s not change the mood of the evening.”
Kathryn dodged Calgar’s verbal negotiation and glared across the table to the venerable warrior. “I’m curious General, what would you do if you stumbled upon a pre-warp civilization? Are they ripe for submission or destruction in the name of glory?”
Tension at the table suddenly became thick, the surrounding patrons of the restaurant unaware of the discussions from the veterans in the corner. Tracy looked between Grannon and Kathryn with a growing smile and then placed her glass quietly on the table. Calgar’s discomfort continued and he placed both hands to either side of his plate, as if ready to separate the Klingon and Human from conflict.
Grannon leaned forward, the leather of his ceremonial jacket creaking as he moved. “Admiral Beringer, you assume too much.”
An eyebrow rose on Kathryn’s forehead and she leaned forward as well. “You have not answered the question.”
After a few seconds, the Klingon burst into laughter and slapped the table, capturing the other patron’s attention. “Well done, Admiral!” He gulped from his cup as he sat back into the chair. “I accept your challenge.” With that comment, everyone else returned to their hushed conversations.
Wiping his mouth, Grannon explained, “In the older days, before the Cardassian War, Captains were left to their own discretions unless ordered by the Council. The Empire would not be what it is without expansion, and sometimes there are … growing pains. You should know this?”
Matthew sighed with relief and Tracy calmly reached for her glass. Kathryn continued, “That’s what history would say, but have you faced the decision?”
Grannon shook his head. “Should I consider myself fortunate? I’ve read some examples of when Starfleet handled pre-warp cultures and not all of those instances had a merry outcome. So, is it flawed?”
Kathryn glanced at Tracy, who was inspecting her nails on one hand, clearly not interested in the conversation. Looking to Matthew, the Commodore was drinking from his cup and did so for a few seconds. She returned to the Klingon and shrugged. “It’s relative. Count yourself lucky.”
“Oh, really,” Grannon looked surprised. “This night has been filled with tales of days long past. Please, regale us with another story.”
Looking down at her plate, the half-eaten steak beckoned. Kathryn cut a slice and chewed it quickly.
“Back in 2410, my ship was in the Delta Quadrant conducting chart work near the Outward Fringes. We captured subspace distortions emanating from a nearby system and we bounced to the source: two planets seemed to be engaged in a planetary war. Long-range scans suggested the cultures did not use warp-drives, at least not by Federation metrics.”
The others started eating while she spoke. “We did discover they were able to harness nuclear power and their ships were fueled with it.”
Kathryn paused and then sawed into her steak. “Several areas on both planets were scarred from nuclear detonations. Clearly, they were at war against each other.”
Tracy lifted her glass to drink. “If I had to guess, you logged the tragedy and moved on.”
Matthew sat straight still chewing on pasta. “Is that what you would have done, Admiral Kent?”
Smiling from the question, Tracy nodded. “There is an idea that Captains have a moral obligation to countermand the Prime Directive if a species faces extinction. War is not a cause to go against the Directive, although it is terrible to witness, I suppose.”
Grannon growled. “I prefer to let the dear Admiral finish her saga.”
Tracy lifted her glass to salute and acknowledge the Klingon General’s request.
Kathryn finished chewing. “Tracy is technically correct. We had no idea how much further the war was to continue, yet we noticed a flotilla in the heliosphere with nuclear-tipped projectiles inbound to a planet. I decided to use a tight-band subnucleonic beam to the projectiles in an attempt to neutralize the atomic matrix of the cores and to remain hidden. From long-range the effect was mostly successful.
Matthew raised eyebrows. “Mostly?”
“Yes.” Kathryn became somber. “A few made planetfall.” She looked into her lap and after a small sniffle looked up. “It seems the waiter is a little late with refills? I’ll go see the maiter d.” Standing, she pushed a strand of grey and burgundy hair, and excused herself from the table.
Tracy shook her head and loudly landed her glass on the table with some impatience. “My queue to drop the conversation must have been too subtle, gentlemen.”
Grannon was startled. “What do you mean?”
Looking to the General, Tracy’s eyes narrowed. “Kathryn followed the Prime Directive by leaving the system after she failed to stop the missile wave from destroying several cities. Several more cities were still intact from her subtle action. There are always winners and losers in war and someone was going to win. It’s not Starfleet’s place to interfere in that tragedy because there was going to be a winner.”
She paused for some effect before continuing. “So when I ‘guessed’ what Kathryn would do, it is because that is what happened. Looking at options, the only proper course of action was to index the system, document readings, and catalogue actions taken … then leave. “
Matthew looked around and then leaned forward to loudly whisper. “You mean she just left the system without further investigation?!”
Tracy nodded, “in order to follow the Directive, yes.”
---
Cast For Crew:
Kathryn Beringer - Katheryn Winnick
Matthew Calgar - Conleth Hill
Grannon Trex - Orlando Jones
Tracy Maxwell Kent - Monica Belluci
The Admiral smirked before taking a sip from her wine glass. The flickering light from the torches on the outside deck reflected from her long, straight dark black hair. “Maybe so … to be fair, there are circles within Starfleet that believe the same.”
Opposite the Admiral sat Commodore Matthew Calgar. His barrel-chested build was betrayed by the sudden uneasiness of the conversation. Matthew reached for his own glass and poured some of Grannon’s effective drink. “Come now, let’s not change the mood of the evening.”
Kathryn dodged Calgar’s verbal negotiation and glared across the table to the venerable warrior. “I’m curious General, what would you do if you stumbled upon a pre-warp civilization? Are they ripe for submission or destruction in the name of glory?”
Tension at the table suddenly became thick, the surrounding patrons of the restaurant unaware of the discussions from the veterans in the corner. Tracy looked between Grannon and Kathryn with a growing smile and then placed her glass quietly on the table. Calgar’s discomfort continued and he placed both hands to either side of his plate, as if ready to separate the Klingon and Human from conflict.
Grannon leaned forward, the leather of his ceremonial jacket creaking as he moved. “Admiral Beringer, you assume too much.”
An eyebrow rose on Kathryn’s forehead and she leaned forward as well. “You have not answered the question.”
After a few seconds, the Klingon burst into laughter and slapped the table, capturing the other patron’s attention. “Well done, Admiral!” He gulped from his cup as he sat back into the chair. “I accept your challenge.” With that comment, everyone else returned to their hushed conversations.
Wiping his mouth, Grannon explained, “In the older days, before the Cardassian War, Captains were left to their own discretions unless ordered by the Council. The Empire would not be what it is without expansion, and sometimes there are … growing pains. You should know this?”
Matthew sighed with relief and Tracy calmly reached for her glass. Kathryn continued, “That’s what history would say, but have you faced the decision?”
Grannon shook his head. “Should I consider myself fortunate? I’ve read some examples of when Starfleet handled pre-warp cultures and not all of those instances had a merry outcome. So, is it flawed?”
Kathryn glanced at Tracy, who was inspecting her nails on one hand, clearly not interested in the conversation. Looking to Matthew, the Commodore was drinking from his cup and did so for a few seconds. She returned to the Klingon and shrugged. “It’s relative. Count yourself lucky.”
“Oh, really,” Grannon looked surprised. “This night has been filled with tales of days long past. Please, regale us with another story.”
Looking down at her plate, the half-eaten steak beckoned. Kathryn cut a slice and chewed it quickly.
“Back in 2410, my ship was in the Delta Quadrant conducting chart work near the Outward Fringes. We captured subspace distortions emanating from a nearby system and we bounced to the source: two planets seemed to be engaged in a planetary war. Long-range scans suggested the cultures did not use warp-drives, at least not by Federation metrics.”
The others started eating while she spoke. “We did discover they were able to harness nuclear power and their ships were fueled with it.”
Kathryn paused and then sawed into her steak. “Several areas on both planets were scarred from nuclear detonations. Clearly, they were at war against each other.”
Tracy lifted her glass to drink. “If I had to guess, you logged the tragedy and moved on.”
Matthew sat straight still chewing on pasta. “Is that what you would have done, Admiral Kent?”
Smiling from the question, Tracy nodded. “There is an idea that Captains have a moral obligation to countermand the Prime Directive if a species faces extinction. War is not a cause to go against the Directive, although it is terrible to witness, I suppose.”
Grannon growled. “I prefer to let the dear Admiral finish her saga.”
Tracy lifted her glass to salute and acknowledge the Klingon General’s request.
Kathryn finished chewing. “Tracy is technically correct. We had no idea how much further the war was to continue, yet we noticed a flotilla in the heliosphere with nuclear-tipped projectiles inbound to a planet. I decided to use a tight-band subnucleonic beam to the projectiles in an attempt to neutralize the atomic matrix of the cores and to remain hidden. From long-range the effect was mostly successful.
Matthew raised eyebrows. “Mostly?”
“Yes.” Kathryn became somber. “A few made planetfall.” She looked into her lap and after a small sniffle looked up. “It seems the waiter is a little late with refills? I’ll go see the maiter d.” Standing, she pushed a strand of grey and burgundy hair, and excused herself from the table.
Tracy shook her head and loudly landed her glass on the table with some impatience. “My queue to drop the conversation must have been too subtle, gentlemen.”
Grannon was startled. “What do you mean?”
Looking to the General, Tracy’s eyes narrowed. “Kathryn followed the Prime Directive by leaving the system after she failed to stop the missile wave from destroying several cities. Several more cities were still intact from her subtle action. There are always winners and losers in war and someone was going to win. It’s not Starfleet’s place to interfere in that tragedy because there was going to be a winner.”
She paused for some effect before continuing. “So when I ‘guessed’ what Kathryn would do, it is because that is what happened. Looking at options, the only proper course of action was to index the system, document readings, and catalogue actions taken … then leave. “
Matthew looked around and then leaned forward to loudly whisper. “You mean she just left the system without further investigation?!”
Tracy nodded, “in order to follow the Directive, yes.”
---
Cast For Crew:
Kathryn Beringer - Katheryn Winnick
Matthew Calgar - Conleth Hill
Grannon Trex - Orlando Jones
Tracy Maxwell Kent - Monica Belluci
Monday, January 22, 2018
To Walk The Plank
The Chancellor of Trell, Wushar, stood on the transporter pad with a bemused smirk having just asked a question to Captain Kathryn Beringer. Metallic trinkets in muted colors clinked as arms disappeared into the folds of his deep black floor-length robe.
She could not control her surprise. “You can’t be serious, we are talking about the Borg!”
“I am very serious. Thanks to the Federation, several members of the Perfect want to make a religious pilgrimage.”
Kathryn looked away to consider the Chancellor’s request, yet could only think of obstacles. “Forgive me Chancellor, but -”
Wushar chuckled to interrupt. “I thought this might happen, so allow me to be blunt: fulfill this appeal and the Trellans will join the Federation without further demands or concessions.”
“This is a very grave demand, don’t you think?”
“Maybe from your point of view, Captain.”
“Definitely from my point of view.”
The Chancellor scoffed. “I hope you are not trying to impose Federation values upon us this late in the process? The Trellans certainly welcome the benefits of membership without … strain.” Believing he had the upper hand, he became smug. “Correct me if I’m wrong Captain, but aren’t our Dilithium mines why the Federation wants a foothold in this region of the Delta Quadrant?”
Kathryn politely smiled. “The Dilithium is an interesting fact of your beautiful world.”
“Excellent. Please take time to consider the request. I’m sure the pious people of Trell would appreciate the results.” Wushar looked to the wall behind Kathryn as a sign he was finished with the conversation. “Until we meet again, Captain.”
Turning to the transporter chief, Kathryn nodded. The Chancellor was bathed in blue light and disappeared.
+++
Kathryn exited the Holodeck panting and dried sweat from her face with a towel. She stopped in the hallway when she sensed another person standing nearby.
Christa Harrington stood almost eye level to Kathryn and wore a bright toothy smile. “Good morning, Cap!”
Returning the smile and wiping the towel across her arms, Kathryn nodded for them to walk down the hallway and took steps from the Holodeck. Christa caught up and matched Kathryn’s quicken pace. “Counselor, nice to see you are in good spirits.”
“Always, O Captain, my Captain.”
Draping the towel over the opposite shoulder to Christa, Kathryn replied, “indeed. To what do I owe the pleasure? We are not due for a chat until next week, if I recall correctly.”
Christa placed her hands behind her back as they walked. “True. I hope you will forgive me, Captain, but there is some scuttlebutt about the Trellans, so I thought to check in on you.”
Rolling her eyes, Kathryn offered, “Their ‘walk-away’ condition to joining the Federation is … obtuse.”
“Well said, sir.”
Kathryn stopped and looked at Christa, annoyed by the retort. Another crewmember dodged past the pair standing in the middle of the hallway. Christa still wore an infectious smile.
Christa shrugged, “it’s true!”
After a few seconds, Kathryn started smiling as well. Walking again at a more relaxed pace, annoyance returned to Kathryn’s demeanor as she recalled the Chancellor’s parting words. “Whoever thought delivering a group of religious pilgrims to Borg space could stall a negotiation.”
Christa nodded at the declaration. “What do you plan to do?”
Kathryn slowed her pace and placed her hands behind her back in contemplation. “The Trellans have built a spiritual following around the Borg and the Cooperative is not an option for them; something about a ‘false path’.”
“So, Is this an unreasonable request?”
Kathryn shook her head. “It’s all relative. From where I stand, the Borg continues to be the single greatest threat to the galaxy. Yet, I’ve been instructed that the Dilithium ore found on the planet this deep in the Delta Quadrant is a resource Starfleet does not want to lose.”
Christa nodded. “And the price bothers you?”
“You and I know what happens when someone becomes assimilated. It’s a cost some Trellans want to go through!”
The pair reached an intersection. Kathryn backed onto a wall and crossed her arms, looking down at the floor. She then extended both arms as if to start juggling ideas. “On the surface, the Federation’s goal is clear: continued expansion into the Delta Quadrant. The Trellans want to join the Federation. Their sovereignty as a member, especially as a prospective member, is paramount.” She reached for rank pips on a uniform she was not wearing.
The counselor knew that was a sign Kathryn was deep in though. Christa rocked on her heels for several seconds waiting to see if Kathryn added more. After a few more seconds, she stopped and suggested, “It seems to me you have made a decision.”
Kathryn sighed and pushed away from the wall, walking toward a turbolift. Christa followed. The Captain looked over her shoulder and declared, “I am being ordered to sacrifice some conviction and it does not feel good.”
---
Cast for crew:
Kathryn Beringer - Katheryn Winnick
Christa Harrington - Emily Bett Rickards
Chancellor Wushar - Jeff Goldblum
She could not control her surprise. “You can’t be serious, we are talking about the Borg!”
“I am very serious. Thanks to the Federation, several members of the Perfect want to make a religious pilgrimage.”
Kathryn looked away to consider the Chancellor’s request, yet could only think of obstacles. “Forgive me Chancellor, but -”
Wushar chuckled to interrupt. “I thought this might happen, so allow me to be blunt: fulfill this appeal and the Trellans will join the Federation without further demands or concessions.”
“This is a very grave demand, don’t you think?”
“Maybe from your point of view, Captain.”
“Definitely from my point of view.”
The Chancellor scoffed. “I hope you are not trying to impose Federation values upon us this late in the process? The Trellans certainly welcome the benefits of membership without … strain.” Believing he had the upper hand, he became smug. “Correct me if I’m wrong Captain, but aren’t our Dilithium mines why the Federation wants a foothold in this region of the Delta Quadrant?”
Kathryn politely smiled. “The Dilithium is an interesting fact of your beautiful world.”
“Excellent. Please take time to consider the request. I’m sure the pious people of Trell would appreciate the results.” Wushar looked to the wall behind Kathryn as a sign he was finished with the conversation. “Until we meet again, Captain.”
Turning to the transporter chief, Kathryn nodded. The Chancellor was bathed in blue light and disappeared.
+++
Kathryn exited the Holodeck panting and dried sweat from her face with a towel. She stopped in the hallway when she sensed another person standing nearby.
Christa Harrington stood almost eye level to Kathryn and wore a bright toothy smile. “Good morning, Cap!”
Returning the smile and wiping the towel across her arms, Kathryn nodded for them to walk down the hallway and took steps from the Holodeck. Christa caught up and matched Kathryn’s quicken pace. “Counselor, nice to see you are in good spirits.”
“Always, O Captain, my Captain.”
Draping the towel over the opposite shoulder to Christa, Kathryn replied, “indeed. To what do I owe the pleasure? We are not due for a chat until next week, if I recall correctly.”
Christa placed her hands behind her back as they walked. “True. I hope you will forgive me, Captain, but there is some scuttlebutt about the Trellans, so I thought to check in on you.”
Rolling her eyes, Kathryn offered, “Their ‘walk-away’ condition to joining the Federation is … obtuse.”
“Well said, sir.”
Kathryn stopped and looked at Christa, annoyed by the retort. Another crewmember dodged past the pair standing in the middle of the hallway. Christa still wore an infectious smile.
Christa shrugged, “it’s true!”
After a few seconds, Kathryn started smiling as well. Walking again at a more relaxed pace, annoyance returned to Kathryn’s demeanor as she recalled the Chancellor’s parting words. “Whoever thought delivering a group of religious pilgrims to Borg space could stall a negotiation.”
Christa nodded at the declaration. “What do you plan to do?”
Kathryn slowed her pace and placed her hands behind her back in contemplation. “The Trellans have built a spiritual following around the Borg and the Cooperative is not an option for them; something about a ‘false path’.”
“So, Is this an unreasonable request?”
Kathryn shook her head. “It’s all relative. From where I stand, the Borg continues to be the single greatest threat to the galaxy. Yet, I’ve been instructed that the Dilithium ore found on the planet this deep in the Delta Quadrant is a resource Starfleet does not want to lose.”
Christa nodded. “And the price bothers you?”
“You and I know what happens when someone becomes assimilated. It’s a cost some Trellans want to go through!”
The pair reached an intersection. Kathryn backed onto a wall and crossed her arms, looking down at the floor. She then extended both arms as if to start juggling ideas. “On the surface, the Federation’s goal is clear: continued expansion into the Delta Quadrant. The Trellans want to join the Federation. Their sovereignty as a member, especially as a prospective member, is paramount.” She reached for rank pips on a uniform she was not wearing.
The counselor knew that was a sign Kathryn was deep in though. Christa rocked on her heels for several seconds waiting to see if Kathryn added more. After a few more seconds, she stopped and suggested, “It seems to me you have made a decision.”
Kathryn sighed and pushed away from the wall, walking toward a turbolift. Christa followed. The Captain looked over her shoulder and declared, “I am being ordered to sacrifice some conviction and it does not feel good.”
---
Cast for crew:
Kathryn Beringer - Katheryn Winnick
Christa Harrington - Emily Bett Rickards
Chancellor Wushar - Jeff Goldblum
Thursday, January 11, 2018
A Fool's Errand
Unofficial Literary Challenge 33 - Prompt 1 Fleet Week
---
Jim Bushel looked into his drink. The Andorian whiskey was reportedly very strong and its deep red color was a warning toward its potency. The Bolian bartender refused Jim’s request for a larger cup on the grounds to protect his own and other patron’s well-being. The cup was larger than a shot glass and made of silver-coated metal, the preferred container for the whiskey. Jim gulped, counted to three, and then took a sip. The liquor clawed its way down his throat and annihilated whatever was in his stomach. The result being a coughing fit that made Jim’s eyes water.
The bartender grinned as he handed Jim a cloth. “You were warned, Lieutenant.”
Jim accepted the cloth and wiped his eyes and mouth, nodding regretfully. “It was worth it”, he choked out. Looking away into the maw of Club 42’s dining area, Jim wanted to see who was watching his debacle. A few tables were occupied by various species wearing Starfleet uniforms and almost all the other patrons returned to their own business, their conversations clearly interrupted. Behind him was the exit from Club 42 that lead into the main gallery of Earth Space Dock.
The bartender grabbed a glass and started cleaning it, the way bartenders do to look busy. “So, what has you tempting fate?”
Clearing his throat, Jim replied with some embarrassment, “typical girl problems.”
The Bolian nodded with the wisdom of a sage. “It must be serious if you want to drown in liquid death.”
The Lieutenant lifted the glass as if to take another casual sip and paused. “I broke up with my fiancé last week when we docked.”
After a few seconds of contemplation, the bartender commanded, “have another sip. If separating from a loved one is ‘typical’, then I need to find another job.”
Jim smiled and then counted to three before half-emptying the glass. Less liquid this time, but it scorched down just the same. Being more prepared, possibly because the liquor already damaged his internal organs, his coughing was more subdued and manageable. He smacked his lips with a grimace, and then looked toward the dance room to his left. The area was in a separate part of Club 42 and was separated by a force field that severely dampened the music flooding the room. For him in the bar area, the music could be heard but was muffled, yet the tune could be discerned. Exiting the dance floor and through the force field walked three women; a Human, Talaxian and Andorian. Each wore off-duty clothing of various colors, styles and skin revelations and all three laughed as if sharing the punch line to a joke. They headed for the main doorway.
Jim recognized all three from his ship, but the Human captured his attention. He turned to the bartender and excused himself. Tugging on his own shirt, as he is used to with his uniform, he tried to casually walk toward the exit and matched speed so as to meet the women. Without turning his head, Jim looked toward the group to see if they noticed him. Jim started to feel dread about his decision to meet them. Yet, he was committed by now and persevered by looking casually toward them and then washed a bright smile over his face while waving.
“Claire, hello!”
The group stopped and their collective mirth faded slightly, which heightened Jim’s feeling of impending doom. The Andorian had whispered something and Claire shook her head slightly. Looking back to Jim, she smiled and replied, “hello Lieutenant. I’m sorry we didn’t see you earlier. Have you been at the Club long?”
The potent alcohol must have started affecting Jim: her voice was warm and inviting to hear. Rich, red colored lips pulled into a polite smile. Long, full brown hair flowed over her shoulders, they being bare from the strapless and loose-fitting blouse Claire wore. The skirt hugged her legs halfway down toned thighs with shiny smooth legs.
Jim scratched the back of his head to try to relax. “Uh, no, not long. I was just here for a drink.”
After an eternal second of silence between them, Claire raised eyebrows and looked to her friends. “So, we were about to leave-“
“Ah, yeah, about that,” Jim blurted out. “Could I speak with you for a moment?”
Shifting her weight to one side, Claire crossed arms. “Sure.”
Jim looked at the other women who was looking at Claire disapprovingly. He cleared his throat. “Maybe in private?”
Claire looked to her friends and nodded. As if they were communicating telepathically, the two other women shrugged and left Claire in Club 42.
After a few more seconds watching the others exit, Jim turned to Claire and invited her to sit at a nearby table.
Claire gently waved away the offer, “it’s getting a little late, I’m sorry. What’s on your mind?”
“Ah, yes. Well, I … I have not seen you in a few of weeks and so … how are you doing?”
“I’m doing well,” she chuckled nervously.
“Good, me too.”
Claire looked skeptical. “Oh, really?”
Jim blushed. “Well, yes, I suppose.” He looked to the bartender quickly and noticed the Bolian was staring at them as he cleaned a glass the way bartenders do to look busy. Turning back to Claire, he knew the conversation was strained and pushed away from small talk. “Look, I would like to explain myself. Would you be willing to talk about it over a drink?”
“Tonight? Like, now?”
"Oh, no no! I meant sometime soon. Tomorrow?”
Claire looked surprised at first, and then her affect became neutral again. She looked out the doors from Club 42 and noticed her friends were watching from the outside. “Um, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Nodding, Jim’s hopes were struck by a verbal phaser shot. “Is it because of Mallory?”
Claire looked down to the floor. “I wish it were less obvious. I mean, I am her roommate after all.”
Jim tried to salvage some dignity. “I know. I just felt you and I had good rapport. I thought … you know … there was something-“
“No, Jim. I’m sorry if you felt that way. We all became friends because you were with Mallory. But she is my friend, and breaking off a year-long engagement with her is not-,“ Claire paused as she bit her bottom lip. “I don’t mean to take sides, but … I’m not really your friend. You know what I mean?”
The words were a torpedo to Jim’s fledgling hopes. He resigned to the events that lead to this moment. “I understand. I’m so sorry.”
Claire looked sympathetic. “I’m not the one you should apologize too. But I know you already have to Mallory.” She turned and walked away.
Jim felt embarrassed as he trudged back to the bar and reached for his drink. The bartender snatched it away with one hand and replaced it with a cup of cold water from the other hand in one fluid motion. “You’ll need that, if my suspicions are correct.”
---
Cast for crew:
Jim Bushel - Jason Ritter
Claire McKenzie – Hayley Orrantia
Bartender - Conan O'Brian
Talaxian friend - Female street extra 1
Andorian friend - Female street extra 2
Mentioned but not seen:
Mallory Aralla - Alexandra Daddario
---
Jim Bushel looked into his drink. The Andorian whiskey was reportedly very strong and its deep red color was a warning toward its potency. The Bolian bartender refused Jim’s request for a larger cup on the grounds to protect his own and other patron’s well-being. The cup was larger than a shot glass and made of silver-coated metal, the preferred container for the whiskey. Jim gulped, counted to three, and then took a sip. The liquor clawed its way down his throat and annihilated whatever was in his stomach. The result being a coughing fit that made Jim’s eyes water.
The bartender grinned as he handed Jim a cloth. “You were warned, Lieutenant.”
Jim accepted the cloth and wiped his eyes and mouth, nodding regretfully. “It was worth it”, he choked out. Looking away into the maw of Club 42’s dining area, Jim wanted to see who was watching his debacle. A few tables were occupied by various species wearing Starfleet uniforms and almost all the other patrons returned to their own business, their conversations clearly interrupted. Behind him was the exit from Club 42 that lead into the main gallery of Earth Space Dock.
The bartender grabbed a glass and started cleaning it, the way bartenders do to look busy. “So, what has you tempting fate?”
Clearing his throat, Jim replied with some embarrassment, “typical girl problems.”
The Bolian nodded with the wisdom of a sage. “It must be serious if you want to drown in liquid death.”
The Lieutenant lifted the glass as if to take another casual sip and paused. “I broke up with my fiancé last week when we docked.”
After a few seconds of contemplation, the bartender commanded, “have another sip. If separating from a loved one is ‘typical’, then I need to find another job.”
Jim smiled and then counted to three before half-emptying the glass. Less liquid this time, but it scorched down just the same. Being more prepared, possibly because the liquor already damaged his internal organs, his coughing was more subdued and manageable. He smacked his lips with a grimace, and then looked toward the dance room to his left. The area was in a separate part of Club 42 and was separated by a force field that severely dampened the music flooding the room. For him in the bar area, the music could be heard but was muffled, yet the tune could be discerned. Exiting the dance floor and through the force field walked three women; a Human, Talaxian and Andorian. Each wore off-duty clothing of various colors, styles and skin revelations and all three laughed as if sharing the punch line to a joke. They headed for the main doorway.
Jim recognized all three from his ship, but the Human captured his attention. He turned to the bartender and excused himself. Tugging on his own shirt, as he is used to with his uniform, he tried to casually walk toward the exit and matched speed so as to meet the women. Without turning his head, Jim looked toward the group to see if they noticed him. Jim started to feel dread about his decision to meet them. Yet, he was committed by now and persevered by looking casually toward them and then washed a bright smile over his face while waving.
“Claire, hello!”
The group stopped and their collective mirth faded slightly, which heightened Jim’s feeling of impending doom. The Andorian had whispered something and Claire shook her head slightly. Looking back to Jim, she smiled and replied, “hello Lieutenant. I’m sorry we didn’t see you earlier. Have you been at the Club long?”
The potent alcohol must have started affecting Jim: her voice was warm and inviting to hear. Rich, red colored lips pulled into a polite smile. Long, full brown hair flowed over her shoulders, they being bare from the strapless and loose-fitting blouse Claire wore. The skirt hugged her legs halfway down toned thighs with shiny smooth legs.
Jim scratched the back of his head to try to relax. “Uh, no, not long. I was just here for a drink.”
After an eternal second of silence between them, Claire raised eyebrows and looked to her friends. “So, we were about to leave-“
“Ah, yeah, about that,” Jim blurted out. “Could I speak with you for a moment?”
Shifting her weight to one side, Claire crossed arms. “Sure.”
Jim looked at the other women who was looking at Claire disapprovingly. He cleared his throat. “Maybe in private?”
Claire looked to her friends and nodded. As if they were communicating telepathically, the two other women shrugged and left Claire in Club 42.
After a few more seconds watching the others exit, Jim turned to Claire and invited her to sit at a nearby table.
Claire gently waved away the offer, “it’s getting a little late, I’m sorry. What’s on your mind?”
“Ah, yes. Well, I … I have not seen you in a few of weeks and so … how are you doing?”
“I’m doing well,” she chuckled nervously.
“Good, me too.”
Claire looked skeptical. “Oh, really?”
Jim blushed. “Well, yes, I suppose.” He looked to the bartender quickly and noticed the Bolian was staring at them as he cleaned a glass the way bartenders do to look busy. Turning back to Claire, he knew the conversation was strained and pushed away from small talk. “Look, I would like to explain myself. Would you be willing to talk about it over a drink?”
“Tonight? Like, now?”
"Oh, no no! I meant sometime soon. Tomorrow?”
Claire looked surprised at first, and then her affect became neutral again. She looked out the doors from Club 42 and noticed her friends were watching from the outside. “Um, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Nodding, Jim’s hopes were struck by a verbal phaser shot. “Is it because of Mallory?”
Claire looked down to the floor. “I wish it were less obvious. I mean, I am her roommate after all.”
Jim tried to salvage some dignity. “I know. I just felt you and I had good rapport. I thought … you know … there was something-“
“No, Jim. I’m sorry if you felt that way. We all became friends because you were with Mallory. But she is my friend, and breaking off a year-long engagement with her is not-,“ Claire paused as she bit her bottom lip. “I don’t mean to take sides, but … I’m not really your friend. You know what I mean?”
The words were a torpedo to Jim’s fledgling hopes. He resigned to the events that lead to this moment. “I understand. I’m so sorry.”
Claire looked sympathetic. “I’m not the one you should apologize too. But I know you already have to Mallory.” She turned and walked away.
Jim felt embarrassed as he trudged back to the bar and reached for his drink. The bartender snatched it away with one hand and replaced it with a cup of cold water from the other hand in one fluid motion. “You’ll need that, if my suspicions are correct.”
---
Cast for crew:
Jim Bushel - Jason Ritter
Claire McKenzie – Hayley Orrantia
Bartender - Conan O'Brian
Talaxian friend - Female street extra 1
Andorian friend - Female street extra 2
Mentioned but not seen:
Mallory Aralla - Alexandra Daddario
Friday, November 17, 2017
Copy Kathy
Copy Kathy
The doors to Sick Bay open and Doctor Annika Kramer walks out. Her affect is blank until the doors close. She looks back to the doors and shakes her head before turning to face Captain Beringer and First Officer Ythysi. “Bad news or good news first?
The other officers look at each other before responding as if communicating with facial expressions first. Kathryn replies, “Bad news, I suppose. It’s better to get that out of the way.”
Annika sighs. “She has no idea how she got here. It’s as if, in a blink of an eye, she was on the bridge and then in your quarters.”
Kathryn crossed her arms.
Anthi’s antennae twitched slightly. “And the good news?”
“She is a perfect copy of Kathryn, physically, mentally, biologically, psychologically, even chronologically. Frankly Captain, if you died right now, no one would know the woman in Sick Bay,” she thumbed to the doors behind her, “is not … you.
With one hand, Kathryn rubbed on the rank pips on her collar before responding. “The bottom line is she is here and we need to do something about it.”
The Andorian First Officer spoke quickly. “On the face of it, we can’t ethically do anything. It’s not like this was caused by a transporter malfunction or some trick from Q. That would be relatively easy to solve, so to speak. Besides, we would have heard from Q by now, I’m sure.”
Annika put her hands on her hips. “Well, we can’t keep her here either.”
Shaking her head, Kathryn asked, “How’s the rest of the crew?”
“No one has reported further symptoms for two days.”
Nodding, Kathryn said, “so, she is the remaining issue.” She turned to Anthi. “The warning markers were deployed around Xerosia, correct?”
“Yes, sir. Once we recovered from the hallucinations, the buoys were launched. The crew has been submitting reports of their experiences since then.”
Kathryn paced a few steps in the hallway. “The second sentient planet the Federation has encountered and this happens. As if it is trying to send a message to-.” She stopped and turned to the other women.
“The question is, what are we going to do with her?” Annika was scratching her head and didn’t notice the gleam in Kathryn’s eyes.
“I have an idea. But it’s personal and selfish.”
Anthi looked back to Kathryn. They stared at each other for several seconds before Annika looked up and tried to join the silent conversation.
+++
Several minutes later …
The doors to Sick Bay open and Captain Kathryn Beringer walks in. Her affect is blank until the doors close. She looks back to the Doctor and First Officer and nods her head before turning to face the other Kathryn Beringer. “Bad news or good news first?
Sitting on a Bio-Bed and wearing standard medical fatigues, with her long burgundy hair let down and flowing over shoulders, Kathryn smirked. “Bad news, I suppose. It’s better to get that out of the way.”
Captain Beringer smiled. “I knew you would say that. Mind if I call you ‘Kathy’, it will help with the conversation?”
Kathy kept smirking, “It’s what I was going to ask you, actually.”
Anthi crossed her arms. Annika placed her hands on her hips.
Kathryn continued. “Okay, the bad news is we cannot determine how you got here. According to Doctor Kramer, there is no reason you should be here and, thus, we have no way to figure out how to … send you back –“.
“So,” Kathy interrupted, “you need to figure out what to do with me.”
“Yes. But, if you are me, then you know everything about me. Everything.”
The two women stared at each other for several seconds until Kathy broke the silence. “I can’t read your mind.”
Kathryn crossed arms behind her back as if to stand in relaxed attention and leaned forward at the waist. “As you know, there are a handful of people on board, you trust intimately, who know your … our past very well.”
“Yes, and two of them are in this room.”
“Exactly.” Kathryn spoke in hushed tones. “Duty as a Starfleet Captain prevents you from doing some work you really want to do.”
Kathy narrowed her eyes. “Then why stay in Starfleet?”
Kathryn narrowed her eyes and grinned. “In the grand scheme of things, you can do more in the chair, than away from it.”
Looking over Kathryn’s shoulder, Kathy could see Anthi and Annika had not moved. Clearly, a plan had been hatched by the three of them and Kathy was the catalyst. “Specifically meaning?”
The Captain looked back to the others in the room and then back to Kathy with a mischievous look in her eyes. “We do have a Black Talon suit.”
Kathy briefly looked stunned until the realization behind the statement dawned on her. Kathryn was suggesting she be in two places at the same time: one as the dutiful Starfleet Captain, the other …
“Let me be crystal clear about this. You’re thinking I could take the Black Talon and ‘hunt’ Syndicate members to satisfy a vendetta?!”
Kathryn didn’t move. “Correction: making a dent in the slave trade. This is our passion, our motivation to be where we are and joining Starfleet was the ‘high road’, so to speak. As a reminder, you tread the ‘low road’ and it was hard, real hard.”
Looking skeptical, Kathy asked, “So why suggest I go back to that life?”
Kathryn reached up and touched the rank pips on her collar. “It would be a lonely life to be sure. You remember what it was like before joining Starfleet: the constant insecurity, fear, hate … and satisfaction. Frankly, you don’t have to be a killer, not like you wanted to be or thought you could be. Finding slavers and reporting them should be enough.”
“C’mon, you remember reporting to the authorities was never enough!”
“True, but this time you’ll have some support.” She smiled and spread her arms wide as if to show off some fashionable piece of clothing.
Kathy smirked, the idea and its many possibilities was settling in her mind. “Unofficially I presume?”
Kathryn looked smug. “Look at it another way: as official as I can make it.”
---
Cast for crew:
Kathryn Beringer / Kathy - Rachel Nichols
Anthi Ythysi - Katheryn Winnick
Annika Kramer - Abbie Cornish
Cast for crew:
Kathryn Beringer / Kathy - Rachel Nichols
Anthi Ythysi - Katheryn Winnick
Annika Kramer - Abbie Cornish
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