Fallen Heroes Part II Chapter V
Posted: Fri Jul 20, 2018 7:52 pm
Here it is, good people. Chapter five of six. As always, the chapter will be uploaded in four segments, with a new segment each Friday. Do let me know what you think of the story so far and have a good weekend.
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Fallen Heroes Part II Chapter Va
“Time is running out, Captain,” Ensign Surtak says with the composure of a true Vulcan.
An armada of hostile vessels fills the Achilles’ holographic viewscreen, thereby covering a significant portion of the bridge. It’s as if you can reach up and pluck them from the stars. A few years ago, that’s exactly what Commander Tony Blue would have done, each warship a speck of dust compared to his infinite powers as a Q. Now, he only has a tactical station to work with. “The enemy will be within weapons range in twenty seconds.”
Captain Rinckes stares at the viewscreen, his mind undoubtedly racing, weighing all possible actions and their prospective outcomes.
“The Orwell and Chekov have undocked from the starbase,” Lieutenant Baxter says.
“Total evacuation is 82 percent complete,” Surtak says.
Tony sets his jaw. “Ensign, we’re talking about people. Don’t give us percentages, give us numbers.”
“That won’t be necessary, Commander,” Rinckes says, chin held high, chest thrust forward. “Abort evacuation. Get us out of here, Baxter, and signal the others to do the same.”
“Sir,” Tony protests. “Several of our ships haven’t been able to undock yet. There must be a way to buy them time. Or, at the very least, let us complete our own evacuation responsibilities.”
“Well done, Tony,” Rinckes says without any trace of emotion. “You’re a fine first officer, performing your duty, adhering to protocol. Well done. Baxter, engage warp drive.”
Baxter already has a new course laid in and executes the command without hesitation. There’s a faint shudder as the ship hits warp speed, and the starbase and its ominous backdrop stay in view while the Achilles accelerates to well over 3000 times the speed of light. Star Scream, Nova, Arancibia, Orwell, and Checkov, in addition to numerous shuttlecraft and other warp-capable vessels, follow suit and try to keep up.
“It’s not just my duty,” Tony says fiercely. “It’s our duty to save as many as we can.” One could hear a pin drop as his stunned coworkers wait for the captain’s reply. The holographic representation of Starbase 43 about to be ripped apart by ravening warships adds even more pressure to the conversation.
“Your objection is noted,” Rinckes says as he sits back down.
Tony wants to continue his appeal, but it’s no use pressing the matter. In all honesty, he can’t think of any alternative strategy that might save the people trapped on Starbase 43. However, that does not exonerate anyone from giving up so damn fast.
On screen, Starbase 43 fires phasers, mile-long beams of red-hot energy making their way to the enemy fleet. Tony considers it a futile attempt at self-defense against such an overwhelming force, mentally drawing a somber parallel with Dad lifting his arms to protect himself from a collapsing building.
The crew watches quietly as the first enemy vessels unleash phaser fire and torpedoes at the starbase. Surreal as it may be, the S’Prenn, their former allies, join in on the attack, no holds barred, deepening their betrayal with every merciless weapon strike. One brave Norway-class starship, the Peninsula, undocks from Starbase 43, only to get blown out of the stars in a heartbeat. Hundreds of lives snuffed out in an instant. The fleet barely slows down while carrying out its bombardment. Even though the holographic starbase is shrinking as the distance increases, Tony can see its hull blacken. One by one, its phaser arrays are quenched until it is rendered helpless, but that doesn’t satisfy the fleet’s appetite. They want to see it burn.
“Viewer off,” Rinckes says. The buckling starbase and its attackers disappear, replaced by the bulkhead they obscured.
Seconds, maybe minutes, pass by while much remains unspoken. Lieutenant Commander Erin Crow re-enters the bridge and walks toward the tactical station, which is still being manned by Tony, who makes no effort to move over. In fact, he hardly notices her presence. “Commander, if I may,” she says with a hint of politeness. Evidently, the tacit friction on the bridge has mellowed her for now.
Tony ignores her because he has finally gathered the courage to ask, “Ensign Surtak, how many did we leave behind?” He glances at his captain to see if he’s going to object, but Rinckes does not grant him a response.
As if he has been expecting the question, Surtak has his answer ready. “Nineteen thousand two hundred fifteen.”
Tony clasps the sides of his station. “We left nineteen thousand two hundred fifteen officers and civilians behind?” He keeps repeating those numbers as if they were a mantra. When Rinckes looks at Tony through the corner of his eye, Tony meets his gaze and summons a wry smile. “That has to be a new personal record.”
The captain’s stare doesn’t change one bit. Better yet, nobody on the bridge dares to make a sound. Tony suspects he has crossed the line. His bravado slips and shatters as he awaits the captain’s reaction.
The captain pushes off against his chair and starts toward the tactical station while maintaining eye contact—an action so sudden it prompts Lt. Cmdr. Crow to postpone her attempts to retake tactical and she steps aside.
Rinckes halts a foot away from his young XO and towers over him. “How many people did you leave behind when you fled Earth?” Tony cannot answer that question, prolonging the uneasy situation, so the captain speaks for him. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. There’s nothing we could’ve done. Accept it. Move on.”
“Yes, sir,” Tony somehow manages to say.
At last, the captain walks off. “You have the bridge, Commander Blue,” he says as he retreats to his ready room. The sharp tension on the bridge dissipates like a sigh of relief, leaving silence in its wake.
* * *
Klingon space, USS Achilles – May 7, 2382 – Stardate 59346.1
Worn but functional would be the best way to describe the century-old Klingon outpost the Achilles is orbiting. Federation and Klingon shuttles are flying to and fro, transporting countless officers and civilians brought here by dozens of starships, which are either in synchronous orbit or in ever-changing formation as new arrivals trickle through the ranks.
Stood by the window, Tony spectates from his and Emily’s quarters with wavering attention. Emily breaks him from his trance by saying something nonessential, grateful as he may be for the intermission. “It was nice of the Klingons to welcome us and our refugees into their territory,” she says, placing two cups of tea on the table by the couch.
“It would be nicer if they helped us fight back,” Tony says, lacking his wife’s casualness. “I always thought they were warriors, driven by honor, yet they claim this is not their war.”
“It isn’t.” Emily sits down on the couch and invites him to do the same.
Tony reluctantly accepts her invitation. “And it won’t be if they persist in their stiff-necked mentality.”
“At least be glad we finally have access to our quarters,” Emily says, trying to change the subject—without any result, because Tony is still gazing out the window, albeit from the couch now.
He shakes his head. “The Altonoids concentrate exclusively on Federation space; they steer clear of the Romulan, Tholian, and Klingon borders. There’s no clear motive for their actions. It’s as if they’ve merely got a score to settle. And now we have indisputable evidence that the S’Prenn are aiding them… Frankly, we’re at a loss.”
Emily doesn’t offer a reply. There’s nothing left to say about their enemies and allies. It is the way it is.
Tony gives up staring at the Klingon outpost and takes a good look at his wife. He has been so preoccupied with this war and being second in command of a Federation flagship once again that he has given her little consideration. “So how have you been holding up?” he asks, ashamed for not asking this earlier.
“Busy,” she says with a tired smile. “Having to control over three thousand scared people with a security staff of sixty-five was harrowing. I don’t know how we managed to do as well as we did. And you?”
“Busy,” Tony says, without the smile. “I can barely keep track of the days. The minute I start thinking about anything other than the present, I automatically arrive back in San Francisco at the sight of my father buried underneath the rubble.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, hoping to ward off a brewing headache. “We haven’t even had the chance to mourn his death. I haven’t seen you crying. I haven’t cried.”
Emily caresses his hands. “All of this goes beyond you and me. We have lost so many friends, but we’re not alone in our grief. Almost everyone here has lost close relatives. You don’t see any of our colleagues mourning. They’re too busy doing their jobs, because that is what we’re left with. We are little cogs in a giant machine. If we give in to our pain, if we cave in and stop doing what we must, the machine will stop, and we will fall. Humanity would be lost.”
“What’s in that tea of yours?” Tony remarks dryly.
“Truth serum, I guess.”
After chuckling at Emily’s astute reply, Tony sips his tea and—for the first time since they’ve moved in—allows himself to take in his surroundings. Dominated by tan colors, officers’ quarters aboard the Achilles are remarkably luxurious and roomy. The many ornaments and comfy furniture complete the feeling of a home away from home. In all fairness, he misses their bungalow, and he is convinced his wife does too.
Apparently, the truth serum is still in effect, because Emily says, “Did you hear about Commander Crow?”
“Yes, I heard she smiled today,” Tony deadpans. “They had to rush her to sickbay, but the doctor said it was unlikely to ever happen again.”
“Very funny.” Emily gives him a soft slap on the chest. “I’m being serious here.”
“Sorry. What about Commander Crow?”
“I recently found out her husband has been missing in action since the onset of the war. She used to be a lot more sociable, but his MIA status has embittered her.”
“Is that so?”
“It made me think about us. Rumor has it this ship and its crew will be sent back to the front.”
“It’s in the cards,” Tony admits. “But until it’s official, it’s nothing but a rumor.”
“A persistent one. It’s just… It made me think…”
“…about the possibility to resign our commissions and stay out of harm’s way.”
“Not very heroic of us, is it?” Emily says with a sweet but somewhat abashed smile.
“Who ever said we were heroes?” Tony stands up abruptly and starts pacing the room. “We’ve proven our tenacity, no question about that. And yet…” He halts near a framed holophoto to stare at the holographic image of his late father. “The thought has occurred to me more than once these days.” He turns to Emily. “We have a decision to make.”
* * *
Captain Stephan Rinckes is sitting in his ready room, catching up with the latest logs and developments while pondering their implications, when the door chimes. “Enter,” he says, using a perfect mixture of authority and volume.
Commander Tony Blue walks in, greets him with a nod, and sits down opposite the captain’s desk. “You’ve asked for my presence.” To his credit, Tony figured out a couple of days ago that the best way to initiate a conversation with the captain is by being the first to speak.
“It’s hardly news anymore,” Rinckes says, absorbed by the info on his translucent desktop screen. “We’re being sent back to Federation space.”
“I suspected as much.”
“Mind you, this isn’t some heroic endeavor to battle a few Altonoids and recapture bits and pieces of our territory. Take a look at this.” He throws his first officer a PADD. “The S’Prenn did more than just strengthen the Altonoids’ numbers. What you’re reading is the report on the technology used during the attack on Earth.”
Tony sums up what he reads. “Disabling Earth’s planetary shield grid; dampening sensors, communications, and transporters; upgraded weaponry, cloaking devices, and propulsion—it’s all traceable to the S’Prenn.”
“Correct.”
Before Tony can continue, the captain does it for him. “You want to know why? Why have the S’Prenn, once the Altonoids’ most powerful nemesis and our strongest ally, betrayed us, even though the Altonoids represent everything they do not?”
Tony fidgets with the edges of the PADD. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“That’s what we’re all thinking.” Rinckes heaves a weighty sigh. “So we’re being sent back to Federation space, not to be heroes, not to be liberators, but to find answers.”
Tony leans forward, anticipating this briefing’s next subject.
Rinckes cuts to the heart of the matter. “A couple of officers have petitioned for a transfer. I can’t blame them. The mission we’re about to embark on will not be without its risks.” He pauses to goad the commander into replying, with no immediate result. “Given the extreme circumstances, most of them must have concluded—”
“Don’t expect a transfer request from me and Emily. We’ve vowed to serve Starfleet to the best of our abilities, and this is a call to action we cannot ignore. For better or worse, we’re in this together.”
Rinckes did not foresee such a determined answer from the young man in front of him. For a moment, they share a glance of mutual understanding. They’re both going to fight for their cause, wherever it may take them. “Very well,” he says. “We depart tomorrow at noon. That will be all.”
“Understood, sir.”
Rinckes watches his first officer leave and keeps staring at the doors long after they have closed. After a while, his eyes are drawn to the nearby window, to the view of the stars. He recognizes several of them as belonging to Federation space. Disguised as the hallmark of serenity, they hold so many tragedies, so much beauty and emptiness, so much destruction.
And for some unfathomable reason, the captain believes with absolute certainty that his fate lies hidden among those stars, and those stars alone.
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Fallen Heroes Part II Chapter Va
“Time is running out, Captain,” Ensign Surtak says with the composure of a true Vulcan.
An armada of hostile vessels fills the Achilles’ holographic viewscreen, thereby covering a significant portion of the bridge. It’s as if you can reach up and pluck them from the stars. A few years ago, that’s exactly what Commander Tony Blue would have done, each warship a speck of dust compared to his infinite powers as a Q. Now, he only has a tactical station to work with. “The enemy will be within weapons range in twenty seconds.”
Captain Rinckes stares at the viewscreen, his mind undoubtedly racing, weighing all possible actions and their prospective outcomes.
“The Orwell and Chekov have undocked from the starbase,” Lieutenant Baxter says.
“Total evacuation is 82 percent complete,” Surtak says.
Tony sets his jaw. “Ensign, we’re talking about people. Don’t give us percentages, give us numbers.”
“That won’t be necessary, Commander,” Rinckes says, chin held high, chest thrust forward. “Abort evacuation. Get us out of here, Baxter, and signal the others to do the same.”
“Sir,” Tony protests. “Several of our ships haven’t been able to undock yet. There must be a way to buy them time. Or, at the very least, let us complete our own evacuation responsibilities.”
“Well done, Tony,” Rinckes says without any trace of emotion. “You’re a fine first officer, performing your duty, adhering to protocol. Well done. Baxter, engage warp drive.”
Baxter already has a new course laid in and executes the command without hesitation. There’s a faint shudder as the ship hits warp speed, and the starbase and its ominous backdrop stay in view while the Achilles accelerates to well over 3000 times the speed of light. Star Scream, Nova, Arancibia, Orwell, and Checkov, in addition to numerous shuttlecraft and other warp-capable vessels, follow suit and try to keep up.
“It’s not just my duty,” Tony says fiercely. “It’s our duty to save as many as we can.” One could hear a pin drop as his stunned coworkers wait for the captain’s reply. The holographic representation of Starbase 43 about to be ripped apart by ravening warships adds even more pressure to the conversation.
“Your objection is noted,” Rinckes says as he sits back down.
Tony wants to continue his appeal, but it’s no use pressing the matter. In all honesty, he can’t think of any alternative strategy that might save the people trapped on Starbase 43. However, that does not exonerate anyone from giving up so damn fast.
On screen, Starbase 43 fires phasers, mile-long beams of red-hot energy making their way to the enemy fleet. Tony considers it a futile attempt at self-defense against such an overwhelming force, mentally drawing a somber parallel with Dad lifting his arms to protect himself from a collapsing building.
The crew watches quietly as the first enemy vessels unleash phaser fire and torpedoes at the starbase. Surreal as it may be, the S’Prenn, their former allies, join in on the attack, no holds barred, deepening their betrayal with every merciless weapon strike. One brave Norway-class starship, the Peninsula, undocks from Starbase 43, only to get blown out of the stars in a heartbeat. Hundreds of lives snuffed out in an instant. The fleet barely slows down while carrying out its bombardment. Even though the holographic starbase is shrinking as the distance increases, Tony can see its hull blacken. One by one, its phaser arrays are quenched until it is rendered helpless, but that doesn’t satisfy the fleet’s appetite. They want to see it burn.
“Viewer off,” Rinckes says. The buckling starbase and its attackers disappear, replaced by the bulkhead they obscured.
Seconds, maybe minutes, pass by while much remains unspoken. Lieutenant Commander Erin Crow re-enters the bridge and walks toward the tactical station, which is still being manned by Tony, who makes no effort to move over. In fact, he hardly notices her presence. “Commander, if I may,” she says with a hint of politeness. Evidently, the tacit friction on the bridge has mellowed her for now.
Tony ignores her because he has finally gathered the courage to ask, “Ensign Surtak, how many did we leave behind?” He glances at his captain to see if he’s going to object, but Rinckes does not grant him a response.
As if he has been expecting the question, Surtak has his answer ready. “Nineteen thousand two hundred fifteen.”
Tony clasps the sides of his station. “We left nineteen thousand two hundred fifteen officers and civilians behind?” He keeps repeating those numbers as if they were a mantra. When Rinckes looks at Tony through the corner of his eye, Tony meets his gaze and summons a wry smile. “That has to be a new personal record.”
The captain’s stare doesn’t change one bit. Better yet, nobody on the bridge dares to make a sound. Tony suspects he has crossed the line. His bravado slips and shatters as he awaits the captain’s reaction.
The captain pushes off against his chair and starts toward the tactical station while maintaining eye contact—an action so sudden it prompts Lt. Cmdr. Crow to postpone her attempts to retake tactical and she steps aside.
Rinckes halts a foot away from his young XO and towers over him. “How many people did you leave behind when you fled Earth?” Tony cannot answer that question, prolonging the uneasy situation, so the captain speaks for him. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. There’s nothing we could’ve done. Accept it. Move on.”
“Yes, sir,” Tony somehow manages to say.
At last, the captain walks off. “You have the bridge, Commander Blue,” he says as he retreats to his ready room. The sharp tension on the bridge dissipates like a sigh of relief, leaving silence in its wake.
* * *
Klingon space, USS Achilles – May 7, 2382 – Stardate 59346.1
Worn but functional would be the best way to describe the century-old Klingon outpost the Achilles is orbiting. Federation and Klingon shuttles are flying to and fro, transporting countless officers and civilians brought here by dozens of starships, which are either in synchronous orbit or in ever-changing formation as new arrivals trickle through the ranks.
Stood by the window, Tony spectates from his and Emily’s quarters with wavering attention. Emily breaks him from his trance by saying something nonessential, grateful as he may be for the intermission. “It was nice of the Klingons to welcome us and our refugees into their territory,” she says, placing two cups of tea on the table by the couch.
“It would be nicer if they helped us fight back,” Tony says, lacking his wife’s casualness. “I always thought they were warriors, driven by honor, yet they claim this is not their war.”
“It isn’t.” Emily sits down on the couch and invites him to do the same.
Tony reluctantly accepts her invitation. “And it won’t be if they persist in their stiff-necked mentality.”
“At least be glad we finally have access to our quarters,” Emily says, trying to change the subject—without any result, because Tony is still gazing out the window, albeit from the couch now.
He shakes his head. “The Altonoids concentrate exclusively on Federation space; they steer clear of the Romulan, Tholian, and Klingon borders. There’s no clear motive for their actions. It’s as if they’ve merely got a score to settle. And now we have indisputable evidence that the S’Prenn are aiding them… Frankly, we’re at a loss.”
Emily doesn’t offer a reply. There’s nothing left to say about their enemies and allies. It is the way it is.
Tony gives up staring at the Klingon outpost and takes a good look at his wife. He has been so preoccupied with this war and being second in command of a Federation flagship once again that he has given her little consideration. “So how have you been holding up?” he asks, ashamed for not asking this earlier.
“Busy,” she says with a tired smile. “Having to control over three thousand scared people with a security staff of sixty-five was harrowing. I don’t know how we managed to do as well as we did. And you?”
“Busy,” Tony says, without the smile. “I can barely keep track of the days. The minute I start thinking about anything other than the present, I automatically arrive back in San Francisco at the sight of my father buried underneath the rubble.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, hoping to ward off a brewing headache. “We haven’t even had the chance to mourn his death. I haven’t seen you crying. I haven’t cried.”
Emily caresses his hands. “All of this goes beyond you and me. We have lost so many friends, but we’re not alone in our grief. Almost everyone here has lost close relatives. You don’t see any of our colleagues mourning. They’re too busy doing their jobs, because that is what we’re left with. We are little cogs in a giant machine. If we give in to our pain, if we cave in and stop doing what we must, the machine will stop, and we will fall. Humanity would be lost.”
“What’s in that tea of yours?” Tony remarks dryly.
“Truth serum, I guess.”
After chuckling at Emily’s astute reply, Tony sips his tea and—for the first time since they’ve moved in—allows himself to take in his surroundings. Dominated by tan colors, officers’ quarters aboard the Achilles are remarkably luxurious and roomy. The many ornaments and comfy furniture complete the feeling of a home away from home. In all fairness, he misses their bungalow, and he is convinced his wife does too.
Apparently, the truth serum is still in effect, because Emily says, “Did you hear about Commander Crow?”
“Yes, I heard she smiled today,” Tony deadpans. “They had to rush her to sickbay, but the doctor said it was unlikely to ever happen again.”
“Very funny.” Emily gives him a soft slap on the chest. “I’m being serious here.”
“Sorry. What about Commander Crow?”
“I recently found out her husband has been missing in action since the onset of the war. She used to be a lot more sociable, but his MIA status has embittered her.”
“Is that so?”
“It made me think about us. Rumor has it this ship and its crew will be sent back to the front.”
“It’s in the cards,” Tony admits. “But until it’s official, it’s nothing but a rumor.”
“A persistent one. It’s just… It made me think…”
“…about the possibility to resign our commissions and stay out of harm’s way.”
“Not very heroic of us, is it?” Emily says with a sweet but somewhat abashed smile.
“Who ever said we were heroes?” Tony stands up abruptly and starts pacing the room. “We’ve proven our tenacity, no question about that. And yet…” He halts near a framed holophoto to stare at the holographic image of his late father. “The thought has occurred to me more than once these days.” He turns to Emily. “We have a decision to make.”
* * *
Captain Stephan Rinckes is sitting in his ready room, catching up with the latest logs and developments while pondering their implications, when the door chimes. “Enter,” he says, using a perfect mixture of authority and volume.
Commander Tony Blue walks in, greets him with a nod, and sits down opposite the captain’s desk. “You’ve asked for my presence.” To his credit, Tony figured out a couple of days ago that the best way to initiate a conversation with the captain is by being the first to speak.
“It’s hardly news anymore,” Rinckes says, absorbed by the info on his translucent desktop screen. “We’re being sent back to Federation space.”
“I suspected as much.”
“Mind you, this isn’t some heroic endeavor to battle a few Altonoids and recapture bits and pieces of our territory. Take a look at this.” He throws his first officer a PADD. “The S’Prenn did more than just strengthen the Altonoids’ numbers. What you’re reading is the report on the technology used during the attack on Earth.”
Tony sums up what he reads. “Disabling Earth’s planetary shield grid; dampening sensors, communications, and transporters; upgraded weaponry, cloaking devices, and propulsion—it’s all traceable to the S’Prenn.”
“Correct.”
Before Tony can continue, the captain does it for him. “You want to know why? Why have the S’Prenn, once the Altonoids’ most powerful nemesis and our strongest ally, betrayed us, even though the Altonoids represent everything they do not?”
Tony fidgets with the edges of the PADD. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“That’s what we’re all thinking.” Rinckes heaves a weighty sigh. “So we’re being sent back to Federation space, not to be heroes, not to be liberators, but to find answers.”
Tony leans forward, anticipating this briefing’s next subject.
Rinckes cuts to the heart of the matter. “A couple of officers have petitioned for a transfer. I can’t blame them. The mission we’re about to embark on will not be without its risks.” He pauses to goad the commander into replying, with no immediate result. “Given the extreme circumstances, most of them must have concluded—”
“Don’t expect a transfer request from me and Emily. We’ve vowed to serve Starfleet to the best of our abilities, and this is a call to action we cannot ignore. For better or worse, we’re in this together.”
Rinckes did not foresee such a determined answer from the young man in front of him. For a moment, they share a glance of mutual understanding. They’re both going to fight for their cause, wherever it may take them. “Very well,” he says. “We depart tomorrow at noon. That will be all.”
“Understood, sir.”
Rinckes watches his first officer leave and keeps staring at the doors long after they have closed. After a while, his eyes are drawn to the nearby window, to the view of the stars. He recognizes several of them as belonging to Federation space. Disguised as the hallmark of serenity, they hold so many tragedies, so much beauty and emptiness, so much destruction.
And for some unfathomable reason, the captain believes with absolute certainty that his fate lies hidden among those stars, and those stars alone.