EP 9 "EPISODE NINE - LIBERTY BEL" - ACT 2
COMMAND YACHT
Christian sent for Ganhedra – he’d noticed the old man sneak off a short while earlier – and once he came scuttling back onto the bridge with a small entourage he told him to take the conn whilst he and Narli went aft and discussed business with Bel and her men. The old man seemed suddenly keen to join them, and didn’t look too happy about being shut out. He suggested he may be able to add information, especially as he and his people had been aboard the Fantasy before the K’Tani invasion and so were more familiar with some areas of the ship he and the crew were not. But Christian insisted he would be called for if needed, and depended on him and his people to keep an eye on things while the meeting took place.
Christian led Narli along the curved corridor to the Officers’ Mess at the rear of Deck 1, half expecting the Ambassador to express an opinion about the Helan on the way, but he said nothing. Suddenly it felt very odd to be leaving his Bridge under the care of an almost complete stranger, someone he was becoming increasingly suspicious of. And who, Christian wondered, had Bel left in charge on her own Bridge? Where indeed were her allegiances? Although Ganhedra was mysterious, sometimes ambiguous, perhaps even a little guarded, he still felt he was a good man. His parents had always told him to trust his instincts, and he hoped his gut instinct was right on this occasion.
On entering the relatively intimate, darkened room, he saw that Bel sat at the farthest end of the table, flanked by her two men. His team leaders, looking attentive and apprehensive, if a tad tired, dishevelled and dirty, sat on both long sides of the bowed rectangular table.
Christian sat at the nearest end, opposite to Bel, and took a moment to look at the gathered group one after the other. Behind their heads, the many slanted tinted windows surrounding the Mess framed the upper rear of the inside of Bel’s ship as a bright, bustling backdrop.
He straightened and introduced each of his team in turn to Bel and her men:
Leonard, whom she knew as their Chief Engineer
Hedrik, a holographic technology and transporter specialist (Christian added that these systems were extensively integrated throughout the Fantasy, it being a pleasure liner). Souveson almost spat at this.
Jackson, whom they knew already (Bel sneered slightly at the big woman who was staring back at her over rectangular spectacles)
O’Hara, chief medical officer – looking slightly pale and distracted
Struckchev, chief of operations, a handsome man who returned Bel’s smile with a sharp wink
Lirik, chief purser – Lirik flushed at this, and the other team leaders muttered or raised eyebrows, much to Bel’s amusement.
Christian explained Lirik’s revised function after recent discussion with the Commodore was the care and organisation of the main bulk of survivors, but as he was also an experienced Starfleet officer and not unfamiliar with starship administration, he was also a valuable aid to the Captain and Commodore. Lirik bit his tongue, surprised at the Captain’s oversight at not referring to his – still officially un-rescinded - Diplomatic status. Lirik held his tongue for the purpose of decorum, but decided he’d pounce on the Captain at the first opportunity. Purser, indeed.
Rebbik, of course, their helmsman
Souveson, chief of security and tactical officer (Bel noticed the young woman blush at the introduction – just a kid, she thought)
and
Professor Karnak, their resident scientist – who it seemed to Bel had the blank face of a plastic doll and just about as much personality
When he had finished the brief introduction, Bel was frowning. “That man,” she said, looking down and trying to remember his face. “The old man on your bridge just now, who is he?”
Christian felt a little numb. “Ganhedra? Why? Do you know him?”
“Ganhedra..” she repeated. “No…I- he just looked familiar. What species is he?”
“What species?” O’Hara chipped in. Although she’d not had a chance to study their anatomy as yet, the Helan had very obvious physical attributes that she assumed would be known to most OZ people if not by personal experience, then by reputation. “Don’t you know? He’s Helan.”
“Helan…” Bel muttered in thought and turned to her men.
“Yes,” Vorn nodded. “I’ve heard of them, on the outskirts of Qovakia, far from here. I thought they were a pre warp society, though. Either way, I wouldn’t imagine they would get out this way too often.”
“I’ve certainly not met one before,” Bel said. Her men shook their heads in agreement.
“Really…?” Jackson turned to Christian, concerned. Ganhedra and his people were quite knowledgeable with this part of space, and yet, she conceded to herself, it was perfectly reasonable for them or their people never to have run into Bel and her men. Space was a big place after all and species could go unseen for centuries.
"The Qovakians on board dodn't seem to have an issue with them," Christian remarked. "But does that mean that they've definitely met the Helen before?"
"No," Jackson said, "it doesn't."
"Do we know for sure?" Christian asked, glancing around the group. "Has anyone aboard mentioned whether they've met these Helen before?" Everyone shrugged or shook their heads.
Bel looked around the group. “Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know,” Christian decided to park the issue with the Helan for now – they weren’t an apparent threat, even if they were slow at explaining their coincidental presence on the Fantasy. But he realised in his rush to get on with being a Captain, he’d been pretty slack in looking at the bigger picture – something that would have to change very soon.
He quickly produced the tricorder he’d kept hidden beneath the desk, and slid it down the full length of the shiny table so it came to a rest at a cheeky angle just in front of Bel. Everyone else around the table looked at each other, wondering what was going on. She looked down at the readings and then up at him, unperturbed.
“You tell me, ” he said flatly, locking eyes with her.
The others glanced, intrigued, between Captain Christian and Captain Bel, all but Narli unaware of what the tricorder displayed.
When she spoke, she sounded sincere, but Christian had long since learned that talk was cheap. “Despite your predicament and your words of friendship, I don’t know anything about you, or your people other than what I’ve been told.” Bel afforded the others around the table a look of wariness. The one called Lirik seemed to bristle with electricity – Bel felt like she was looking at two people, yet there was only one looking back at her.
Christian shuffled in his seat. “You know that tens of thousands of innocents – many of whom are our friends, families and colleagues - have been embroiled in a conflict that has nothing to do with them. They’ve been killed, maimed, captured - or worse - by the K’Tani,” he sat forward, leaning on the table, noticing Commodore Jackson’s sad expression. “We honestly don’t know the fate of them.”
Bel nodded. “As you probably know,” Bel stated clearly so all could hear, “the K’Tani will eliminate any potential threat. Your people, Starfleet or otherwise, will be arrested and interred in makeshift camps, or if they’ve made provision already, shipped off to purpose built facilities. Those who could provide useful information will be treated more like guests, or maybe not, it depends on their attitude and willingness to cooperate.”
“Their attitude?!” Souveson blurted out. “Any Starfleet officer would do everything in their power to resist the K’Tani and protect the innocents.”
“I’m sorry, child,” Bel said as warmly as she could. “Any resistance would be swiftly dealt with.”
“If the situation were that desperate,” Commodore Jackson looked tearful, but spoke her words steadily, “then our people may have chosen to go to ground rather than fight. Being behind enemy lines isn’t an unknown to most of Starfleet – and other races besides.”
Bel nodded, more enthusiastic. “And Helub is a very big, very old place with many places to hide, but other than that…” she was trying hard to convey the worst possible news with compassion, but she couldn’t find the words.
Christian straightened. “We’re hoping that if we escaped, then maybe others did as well.”
Vorn exchanged a look with Bel, then spoke for her. “We did hear rumour of several unidentified vessels at large in the nearby Vau'Win terriroty recently, but it wasn’t long before we heard reports of K'Tani vessels also. It may be your people, but as far as we know, yours is the only vessel still apparently at large.”
Murmers around the table – a feeling of isolation crept over the command crew.
“But our information is sketchy at best,” Bel added, looking at the crestfallen faces. “There’s every chance others may have made a successful escape elsewhere in the sector, and are still at large as we speak.”
But her words now sounded hollow to the command crew – they realised once more just how lucky they were to have got this far. The alien Captain took charge of the depressive mood.
“So, shall we get on with the repair details?” Bel sat upright.
“Er…not yet, Miss Bel,” Christian said, worriedly. Clearly he had another agenda entirely. “I mean, isn’t there more to discuss?” Bel looked at him, poker faced. “Okay, if you want me to spell it out, I’ll get right to the point. I assumed from your modus operandi that, well, that the K’Tani might be a common enemy to us both. And that as such, we could … help each other.”
Like a tennis match, all participants on either side of the table turned, as one, toward Bel for her reaction. She looked a picture of control – that in itself made them feel uneasy. “Oh, believe me they are,” Bel almost whispered. She suddenly relaxed and cracked a smile. “Modus Operandi..?” Bel frowned, then reached to her back pocket. “How curious. Mind if I smoke, Captain?”
“Actually I do,” Christian snapped, annoyed by her gameplay. “Well. At least we agree on one thing so far. Perhaps, for our benefit, before we talk about the repairs, you could tell us first a little more about yourself, and what you really do.”
Bel hesitated, then chumped a laugh. “You know who I am,” she reached into her coat pocket and took out a small confection, unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth.
“You told Reb that times were so hard that you were on Erowoon to drum up business-“ he began, but was interrupted – sweetly – by Bel.
“That is the way it works around here, you know,” she crossed her legs and leaned back, almost enjoying herself, sucking on the boiled sugar with great gumption.
“Strange, then, that you appear to have so many crew, and such a fine ship. I wouldn’t have imagined times would be that hard for a person of your apparent substance,” Christian smiled.
“I’ve done all right,” Bel said, but didn’t react further, waiting for his next move.
“Another thing. You admitted to Reb that you overheard him talking about his need for a dry dock facility, followed him, and initiated conversation with the specific intent to get our business.”
“Like I said, times are hard and people like me have to be shrewd…” Bel shrugged.
“But then, once you’d got our business, rather than accompany us to your dry dock’s location, you go all hyper cautious instead and give us pre-designated coordinates and a time limit to show up,” Christian went on. “Commander Leonard said even your crew were fearful of being associated with us – and yet you were still willing to take us on.” Vorn and Darmian exchanged worried looks, though Bel stayed stoney-faced.
“What exactly are you trying to say, Captain Christian?” Bel asked impatiently.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had alterior motives to doing business with us-“ Christian began.
Bell interrupted: “Look around you, Captain. Is anything other than it should be? Am I not a Captain of a repair ship, is this not a dry dock…are these men not waiting to start working for you?”
This time, it was Christian who paused and leant back, in a disarming move. “What with the K’Tani back in power next door, you should be extremely wary of strangers, especially us ‘Visitors’. So why did you decide we’d make good clients? Why put yourselves at risk knowing we were pursued by – not just any old pursuant, but the K’Tani themselves?”
Bel swallowed inwardly, but maintained her pose. “Your Helmsman here did tell me of your escape – and your pursuit. I truly feel for you all. You’re all very lucky to be alive – you don’t know how much; especially as you’d had a K’Tani Rogue aboard, disguised apparently as one of your own, isn’t that right?” Christian nodded. “You did remarkably well to defeat her.”
“The agent,” Lirik butted in, attention grabbed. “You have personal experience of these ‘Rogues’?”
Vorn nodded. “There aren’t many around Qovakia who haven’t known someone who suffered at their hand, or known someone who knew another who did.” The Bridge crew exchanged worried looks at this.
Bel sat forward, craning her chin toward the Captain. “Reb said the K’Tani have been chasing you since Vekaria – that’s interesting in itself. But have you asked yourselves why they would have gone to all the trouble of having a Rogue model produced based on one of your species and trusting in their programming enough to put her among you?” Bel asked. Without waiting for guesses or suppositions she continued: “There cannot have been much time for her creators to study you and replicate one so perfectly – you’ve only been on this side of the wormhole for a matter of weeks.”
Again, murmurs of interest and wonderment. This situation was becoming more complex than any thought possible. Bel continued with her riddling. “Captain, when Reb and Leonard came to meet me, I discovered they had been tagged. This could have been done by the agent, but I think it more likely to have happened on Erowoon, by other K’Tani sympathisers. That worries me greatly. If they’re that keen on tracing you, it’s very possible they’ll go to any length. That’s partly why I’ve been so, as you put it, hyper cautious. But that aside, more importantly, again I have to ask myself WHY they would go to so much trouble?”
“Enough of this hedging,” Christian didn’t want this to turn into a guessing game. “Why don’t you tell us what you think,” he paused, then added: “Or more to the point, maybe you can begin by telling us … exactly who are you and how you know so much about our business and how the K’Tani operate?”
Bel smiled and then her face dropped in defeat as she saw the Captain was not going to let this go any further before he knew the truth. She felt satisfied she could trust him. Besides, if things were as bad as she considered, they might all end up dead anyway. “Okay, we may as well get this out of the way now. I’ll tell you what I know.”
“No!” Vorn blurted and grabbed Bel’s arm. They had a quick, firey whispered exchange.
“Want me to get Peach?” Darmian asked Vorn helpfully, standing up to walk away. Bel grabbed his sleeve and heaved him back into his chair.
“You stay right where you are, mister,” her small frame defying the two pillars of men sounded tougher than any Samson. “I’m the Captain around here and I call the shots.”
Everyone shifted slightly, and fixed their eyes on Bel. Her two crew seemed tense, apprehensive even. “Let me paint you a picture, first of all,” she said and shifted to a relaxed story telling posture. “My parents – just like Vorn’s here - were born in Qovakia, on a planet called Arowja. By all accounts it was beautiful, if a bit over-industrialised. When our parents were still small, the K’Tani crashed into an outlying region of Qovakia, not several light years away from our home, with all guns blazing. Fortunately our grandparents had the quick sense to flee, relocating to bordering nations before the K’Tani arrived. But the majority of Arowjans weren’t so lucky.
“I was subsequently raised a refugee in Wasapi space, hoping, as we all did, that one day the K’Tani would be overthrown and we could all go home and away from all the prejudice and xenophobia we experienced daily as refugees. We still had relatives on Arowja, and got to hear detailed accounts of the evil things that had taken place under K’Tani rule there from the various nefarious mercenaries and traders who still visited the planet. The Wasapi didn’t approve of the K’Tani invasion of Qovakia, but as a neutral nation they also didn’t do anything about it.
“Needless to say me and my shipmates, we all grew up to be angry adolescents filled with thoughts of revenge and hate. As soon as we were old enough we abandoned the camps and joined any resistance cell that would take us. We were young, but we weren’t alone – there were many like us, all displaced by the K’Tani. The toughness of our plight meant we learned fast. And we did our part in our own way, eventually. Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t war heroes or anything. Much of it was very uneventful, forwarding messages, transporting illegal freight and servicing vessels mostly from this side of the border, in fact, but sometimes…well, we all saw our fair share of conflict.
“Of course, the general resistance against the K’Tani was a fragmented, hopeless cause until the Ore came along. Savaged themselves by the K’Tani the Ore didn’t hesitate to join the flagging resistance – and boy, did they boost things for us,” Bel said, then her face became different, melancholy. “Sadly, that also upped the stakes somewhat. Defeated and usurped so frequently and in such a short space of time, the K’Tani began a massive mobilisation to hit back. So their grip on the space they controlled tightened. My husband, a ruthless mercenary himself, helped to establish a network of communication between resistance fighters in this area of the Outer Zone, something that was effective and strong, and allowed us to remain undetected by the K’Tani. I’d like to say others were as fortunate, but…” she hesitated.
Bel could see from Jackson’s and others’ faces that some had worked out an odd absence about her – that, or merely guessed what was coming next. “Unfortunately my husband died while helping a group of prisoners of war to escape…” she stopped, noticing the Captain was keen to butt in.
“I’m so sorry,” Jackson interrupted, almost forgetting herself. Bel returned a half smile.
Christian was keen to know more. “Tell us about these Ore people,” he said, nodding to his crew. “We’ve heard virtually nothing as to their true role, even though they were key in the Resistance, and we’ve only heard rumour and speculation about their demise.”
The frizzy blonde shrugged sadly. “That’s just it. Not a lot IS known about them aside from here-say and conjecture. After they joined the resistance they went straight to the front line militia – an elite division that remained, like much of the Resistance, remote from its other parts. They wanted the most dangerous, the most fatal of the assignments, so there are perhaps only a handful of Qovakians still alive who ever met one. Though stories of their bravado became legendary – they were claimed to be a blood-thirsty, insatiable and unstoppable army of fierce warriors, each clad in shiny black armour, eyes of black fire and fangs and talons that could rip a man limb from limb. Their piloting skills were unparalleled, though I’m sure a lot of their success was to do with their brilliant tactical minds. They completed some outstanding and remarkable missions. I’m sure you’ve heard how they turned things around.”
“So how could such a deadly force be totally wiped out?” Struckchev asked.
“Theirs was a terrible ending,” Bel said. “One thing the K’Tani didn’t count on was the determination of the common person during all this. Up until the Ore got involved, people just didn’t believe anything could stop the K’Tani. But when they made significant headway, and all the oppressed races saw that the K’Tani were panicking about it, more and more people put their neck on the line. Despite K’Tani mobilisation, the Resistance swelled in number. In time, it was clear there was only one future for the K’Tani. All disparate resistance cells converged to form a massive armada and they systematically liberated occupied worlds. Near the end of the K'Tani reign, when they were regrouping in central Qovakia for a last ditch attempt to regain power, the Ore were instructed to lead the now vast fleet of vessels in what everyone hoped would be the final battle. According to what we learned afterwards, the Resistance leaders had known there could be substantial losses, but that with the Ore on their side, they were right in proclaiming that ultimately there was no way they could lose.”
“So what happened?” O’Hara asked, gripped by the alien’s story.
“In the worst act of betrayal possible,” Bel explained grimly. “The Ore were let down at the last moment - a decision made by a handful of stupid Qovakian generals that has filled our hearts with shame ever since.”
“That lying cow,” Leonard suddenly blurted out, shocked and blushing with the foolishness of revelation. Several weeks ago he had felt warm and trusting of the quirky Qovakian Minister Re Lorken. Despite her abandoning him after their long trek back from the K’Tani cargo depot, since the invasion and his subsequent escape Leonard had felt sadness for what might have become of her. But now he realised that she and the other Qovakian veterans and government ministers had known all along about the Ore atrocity and, presumably, that the K'Tani could return – no wonder they had wanted to keep it a dark secret.
Bel waited to see if the German was going to say any more, and when he didn’t, she continued. “The Qovakians conveniently turned up just in time to pick off the remaining K’Tani, but arrived far too late to save the Ore. The Generals had known that despite the treachery of being abandoned on the battlefield the Ore would still fight the K’Tani with all their fury, right to the last breath. When it was all over, the Generals tried to make out that the Ore had wanted to go in first. Then there was speculation about mis-communications. Some Qovakians insisted they had been there, fighting alongside the Ore who hadn’t been abandoned at all. But the real issues became lost in all the hyperbolae. And to be honest most Qovakian families didn’t care. They were just grateful their loved ones had not had to die, even though they were sad about the Ore. While a few spoke of them as brave martyrs, most people were just relieved the K’Tani reign was all over. To this day most Qovakians don’t speak of the loss of the Ore, such are the feelings of shame and the congenital disease of mass denial.
“Anyway, with the K’Tani fallen from power, a kind of empty peace returned. Qovakians got on with a massive clear-up operation, but seemed more interested in getting back to how things were rather than making sure that the same thing couldn’t happen again. Their ignorance was to cause history to repeat itself.”
“You and your friends in the Resistance knew different?” Hedrik asked.
“Despite the peace, we were all very wary. We knew that not every single K’Tani had been present at the final battle. There were pockets of K’Tani in the far reaches of all Qovakia who had in fact remained little affected by the resistance. Plus there were unconfirmed stories that the K’Tani were not nomadic, like the Ore, but rather had spread from a homeworld, way beyond K’Tani borders. Our fear was of a return strike. We decided to make it our business to continue with our network of information until we were sure there was no more threat, or until the Qovakian government had taken measures to protect its people.”
“You didn’t want to return home?” Jackson asked, absorbed by the woman’s personal story more than the data on the K’Tani and the Ore.
“Arowja is now a toxic waste dump,” Bel said stoicly. “That’s what the K’Tani can do for you. Our people became slaves for waste processing and forced to live in total squalor for decades. Our world was slowly poisoned. After the occupation, neighbouring states agreed to relocate the remnants of the Arowjan people in return for using the planet for their own waste – the biosphere was by that time irrepairably damaged. Only several communities are still there now, living in sealed communities and maintaining the dump.”
“How awful,” Jackson said, genuinely upset for her and the poor people of Arowja.
“It’s a similar story right across much of Qovakia,” Bel said. “Even now the ramifications of the occupation are still affecting many worlds. Would you believe, right up to this second occupation there were rumours about bands of K’Tani mercenaries holed up on remote worlds and roaming the outer quarters picking off wayward travellers?”
“So what’s the situation with the Resistance now?” Souveson asked. “Have you reformed?”
“As I said, our information network continued after the K’Tani were expelled, and over the few years following the final battle we have shared what news we heard of the K’Tani people,” Bel explained. “Many of us had witnessed public lynchings, watched the war trials, and seen many thousands of K’Tani sterilised and sent off to prison ships. But despite this, we’d gathered evidence that a great number had managed to retreat beyond Qovakia and into intergalactic space.
“And true to our fatalistic thinking, a few months ago we heard rumour of a K’Tani fleet, many leagues of ships, assembling in the hostile Vadras Expanse, not far beyond Qovakia – a long way from here, I hasten to add. Our people on Vekaria tried to warn the government, but they wouldn’t listen. So we started our own campaign – rumours mostly. Slowly people began to talk more and more about it, but the Qovakian propaganda machine can be quite persuasive, and duped people into believing that radical groups were responsible for the rumours,” Bel angrily raked her fingers through her hair before continuing.
“Then the Tholian thing happened, and all you people came pouring through into our space. We then knew our warnings about a potential K’Tani threat had not gone totally unheaded as the Qovakian government talked about you openly as potential allies and began holding many top level secret talks. Our agents managed to meet with several of your own Visitor dignitaries, but to little avail-“
“No!” / “Impossible!” / “What?” / “That’s insane” / “I don’t believe this”
“Really?!” Christian was just as shocked as the others. Lirik shot a look at Ambassador Narli, but he gave nothing away. Still, as the blue man didn’t return the Englishman’s gaze, Lirik swallowed hard, wondering if Narli himself had known about the Invasion and said nothing.
As senior officer, Jackson felt responsible for defending the honour of herself and all her fallen comrades. “Not Starfleet, though, surely?”
“I don’t have the detail,” Bel shook her head. “All we know is that contact was made but was unsuccessful.”
“I can’t believe it,” Lirik was fidgeting and seemed confused, glancing to Narli for any signs, but there was none. He was amazed by Bel’s claim, indicting probably one or more of those under his care and supposedly under his watchful gaze. “I mean, as the High Council’s Starfleet Diplomat in situ, I would have heard of this, I’m sure…or at least I’d like to believe I would have heard of any such meetings after they’d happened. That’s assuming that they did. And even if that was the case it seems illogical for your people’s warnings to go unheeded in the face of such a vicious enemy. If it were me, I’d at least have taken it under advisement.”
“Perhaps they did,” Narli said, cryptically. Or was it sarcastically.
“Ambassador?” Christian turned to the big blue man.
Narli’s face was serious. “My people may have a certain…passion for violence, but we take any threat of war very seriously indeed. Believe me, it’s not something the Andorians would have kept to themselves.” He locked eyes with Lirik, but the unspoken stand-off felt more like adversarial fun than anything more significant.
Still, Lirik studied his old rival. Although he knew the Minister for Trade was telling the truth he also believed he was holding something else back. Maybe something unrelated; there was a lot more in Narli’s head than he let on. Where, for example, had he gone to on Helub the night before the invasion? And who, exactly, had told him about the Ore of which he spoke the very next day after that? The Yeoman decided this was not the place for interrogation, but decided the Andorians were a factor somehow – that evidence backed up by the as yet untranslated Vekarian communique he’d found in Re Lorken’ case that had at least identified the Andorians and other races. It was such a shame the details were so unclear. Lirik wondered if Bel would be able to help with the transparency in that respect.
Bel was coming to the conclusion. “The next part you know. The invasion came, a lot sooner than anyone had expected, and in vaster numbers than anyone had imagined possible. Perhaps it was a sudden decision made by the K’Tani because of your peoples’ arrival here. Who knows.
“One frightening development however is the fact the K’Tani have been able to develop wormhole manipulating technology – our models for possible attacks hadn’t even considered the possibility of a simultaneous invasion right across Qovakia. Against that kind of technology our Resistance movement would be virtually powerless.
“All we have since been able to do is lay low and wait. I’m sure those who are able will take action, either now or in time, but I for one wouldn’t advise doing anything until we know exactly the extent of the K’Tani influence. And we need to be careful – many loyalties are likely to have shifted.
“More pertinent to my own problem is that of the stability of the Resistance. A large number of us didn’t exactly keep a low profile after the rebellion, so they could be in real jeopardy of exposure to the K’Tani. And that’s not accounting for the fear factor. Many in the Resistance may decide to stay out of things this time around – they know what hardships they would have to endure and so may choose to accept K’Tani rule as a safer option.”
Christian saw that both Narli and Lirik were quietly nodding their heads – and it bothered him. Were they reacting to confirmation of their whispered theories and suppositions, or were they merely pretending to have thought of such possibilities themselves and showing off? The Captain flushed – of course they weren’t. That’s why Narli was an Ambassador for Trade for his government, and why Lirik had been drafted into the Diplomatic Corps. These men were intelligence professionals, concerning themselves with matters beyond what most Starfleet Captains would ever get involved in. He doubted they knew the whole picture yet, but might get enough pieces of the puzzle to be able to slot them together with Bel’s information.
That both pleased and worried the Captain. By their very nature they would probably never be able to fit into his crew in the traditional way because of who they were and how they thought and behaved. But at least, Christian swallowed, they were a good measure of how truthful this Bel woman was being. The Captain suddenly felt unnaturally grateful to have these men in his company, and returned his attention to Bel, glancing at Lirik and Narli for their reactions as she continued to speak.
“Which brings me to you guys,” Bel said, causing their interest to be prodded anew. “Immediately prior to the invasion, word had got out from an inside Government source that a Minister had discovered irrefutable evidence of imminent attack, apparently from the Ore – though they assumed more likely from an Ore sympathiser.”
‘Assumed’ Lirik mouthed to Narli, who raised an eyebrow and nodded.
“This source also told us the Government were very worried that the discovery was made in the particular storage facility you went to, Leonard,” Bel watched his mouth drop. “A storage facility that we know to have been used by the K’Tani for the impounding of foreign and enemy vessels. The Resistance had learned they experimented with technologies there, but all of that we thought had been efficiently destroyed by the K’Tani before the end of the occupation. The Qovakian Government made no official reports about the place or any significant discovery.”
“Hang on!” Leonard exclaimed in delayed surprise. “This discovery – it was the one that me and Minister Re Lorken made?” He couldn’t quite come to terms with the magnitude. “We were actually spoken about by the Resistance before the attack?” The German suddenly felt exhonerated for his behaviour on Helub just prior to the invasion – and he locked eyes with Jackson as if seeking her apology. He didn’t see forgiveness there, however, just deep sadness, confusion and regret. A lump came to his throat and he flushed with shame for thinking such retribution in the light of her personal loss.
“Your name and that of the Fantasy were overheard in several conversations, in fact, though it was never established exactly in what context at the time. Our Government source told us that the warning you’d discovered was disregarded by Qovakian officials.”
“You said ‘assumed’” Jackson said, surprising Narli and Lirik. “Do you mean to say that there could be Ore survivors?” Jackson asked, then wondered if she’d made a supposition too far. “Or is that not possible?”
“Honestly, I couldn’t say for sure,” Bel said, in a more civilised tone this time. “There are no records of any Ore survivors, and by all accounts from their ferocious behaviour we’d certainly know if one was around. But as I said, it could have been sympathisers – as I intimated, quite a few radical groups formed in their honour after their defeat.”
“The Helan,” Christian blurted his thought aloud. “Could they be Ore sympathisers? Or maybe…maybe some Ore did survive. I don’t suppose they could be the Helan? Could they?”
Bel and her comrades began to laugh. “Apologies, Captain, but the old man I saw on the bridge, this Ganhedra, he’s hardly a savage dog of war, is he?”
Christian smirked, unsure. “I suppose not.”
“Whatever or whoever was behind the warning,” Bel continued, “the fact of the matter was the government still dismissed it, concluding it was merely a hoax, or perhaps an attempt by disrupters to further stir up unrest. Though I’m guessing that unofficially it struck a cord, otherwise why would the Government have so suddenly relocated all their Ministers and Council Representatives just prior to the attack-“
“Along with all the Federation delegates,” Lirik butted in loudly, and hurriedly. “You knew about that too?!” Bel nodded, trying to gauge the flabby man. “So do you know where they were taken to?” Lirik reminded himself of his first duty - to the care of those hundred odd people he’d managed to lose and then abandon.
“No, I’m afraid not,” Bel said flatly. “We’re not even sure they escaped successfully. Information has been increasingly slower at coming out of Qovakia since the invasion, and much of the Qovakian part of our information network has been steadily going to ground. We barely got word of your imminent arrival in time.”
“Our arrival?” Christian barked, a little too shocked to remain dignified.
“You knew we were coming?!” Struckchev said, now more surprised than confused.
Bel nodded to the echo of gasps and murmers. “Several days after the invasion, we heard the K’Tani were in pursuit of an otherwise invisible ship that had fled Vekarian space during the attack. We assumed from its reported unusual configuration and origin that it was a K’Tani prototype vessel, stolen by some survivors. But then when he heard that some K’Tani ships were destroyed on a mining planet during the pursuit, we had thought it was perhaps there was an incredible weapon of some kind on board the ship..”
“Actually, that was us,” Lirik beamed as he and Reb shared a boy’s moment, locking eyes and nodding with respect to each other. “…on the mining planet, I mean.”
Bel knew as much from what Reb had told her back on Erowoon. “We then got a further report that K’Tani ships had been engaged in a conflict leaving some destroyed,” Bel said. “We assumed it was the same ship, but as this time there had been K’Tani survivors we wondered if the ship might have been damaged as a result, and so concluded that you might well head for Erowoon or some other facility in this region. Our operatives have been watching out for you on several stations in this sector ever since.”
“Lucky we got you to find us then,” Jackson muttered humorously.
“I for one want to take a closer look at this cloaking substance covering the ship,” Bel said with renewed vigour. “Assuming it is what the K’Tani are after, then we can only conclude they don’t have the formula to recreate it.”
“It isn’t necessarily of K’Tani origin,” Professor Karnak interjected sharply. There was a pause as everyone drank that in.
“Good point,” Bel wagged a finger at the poker faced beauty. “And by the same token such technology would be of equal advantage to any resistance force.”
“Is that how the Rogue agent fits in to all this?” Lirik asked.
“Ah, the Rogue, I had forgotten, thank you,” Bel twirled a hair curl or two with a spare finger as she moved her sweet from one side of her mouth to the other. “It might worry you to know that they are still common in our part of space. Though since the K’Tani fell from power, many of them felt bereft of purpose and had their primary programmes reconfigured. You may have already noticed the large amount of robots used in menial roles throughout Qovakia. The B’Det, our current neighbours, are the local experts in android and robot technology,” Bel said. “Their trade off against the K’Tani during the last occupation was by supplying all manner of technology, starting with an army of android Rogues. They were mostly used by the K’Tani to infiltrate some unsuspecting group or organisation, and they did a good job. So whatever the Rogue’s mission was in your case, it must have had something to do with this ship.”
“You think it could be something other than the Cloaking Technology, then?” Christian asked.
“I don’t know. It’s just…why use a Rogue?” Bel bit her lip.
“What would be your best guess, given your insider knowledge of the K’Tani and their methods?” Narli prompted.
“Well, it could be the coating of your ship,” she said, looking at Leonard’s handsome chiselled face. “None of their other ships have it, we know, so that makes it highly possible. But then again, if it was only the ship they were after, then the Rogue’s mission would simply have been to keep the ship on Helub. And I’m sure it could have managed that, no problem.”
“It did try to take us back once,” Lirik said, referring to the incident where he’d belted her on the Bridge. “Or at least stop us in our tracks.”
“But more recently it took just this Command Yacht – ripped it right out of the Beta Section – again to take it back to the K’Tani,” Christian said.
“Did it say anything, give you any indication of what its mission was?” Bel asked.
Christian looked over to Reb – he had spent most time communicating with it.
“Er… she didn’t give any reason exactly, but she did make it clear we didn’t stand a hope against the K’Tani,” Reb said.
“Ah, them Rogues are full of it,” Bel half smiled. “So maybe-“
“Oh, wait! There was one thing she did say…” Reb was outwardly reliving the conversation.
“What was that?” Bel asked, hopeful of a nugget of information.
“She said that we were a lot like the K’Tani,” Reb frowned, shaking his head not understanding.
No-one said anything, Christian remembering the other nonsense the android had babbled.
Christian tapped the table. “Okay. So if it’s not the substance they’re after, then what else, Bel?”
The bright woman seemed to be paying more attention to Struckchev than to the conversation. Christian noted that he was a lot like the men in her crew. After a brief pause, his team leaders continued instead.
“Maybe it’s not the ship itself. Maybe it’s something aboard it. We know it’s crammed full of all sorts of stuff, maybe they left something valuable aboard before they left Vekaria last time around?” Reb asked.
“Or maybe it’s someone,” Lirik said.
Bel turned her attention back to Christian. “Indeed.” She gazed into Lirik’s eyes for a moment, reading the odd looking man – odd because he didn’t seem to fit in with the other Starfleet types. “And that’s another concern for me, Captain. Even if I take your word about the people in this room, how can I be sure about everyone else aboard? You have hundreds on this ship, many who came with you are native to the Outer Zone. Some from races that willingly worked with the K’Tani the last time around. And you hardly know a thing about them.”
“We’re fully aware of our potential security threat from within,” Christian stated openly, if reminded of their need for fast intel. “I admit, a great deal of trust is involved in this. Maybe we’re only lucky we’ve not had another situation on board, but I’d like to think it’s because all the people we have with us are who they say they are.”
Bel raised an eyebrow.
Christian conceded. “We’ve barely had a chance to finish interviewing everyone. Most people are still in shock over the invasion. They saw some pretty gruesome horrors and were deeply traumatised by the event. Children who lost parents, men and women who watched partners perish, and many more not knowing what happened to their colleagues and friends. And to date, we’ve not had the trained staff, let alone the security measures and fully functional medical suite, to conduct proper screenings.”
“Well, we certainly hope to change that for you as well,” Bel said warmly.
“Thank the Lord!” O’Hara beamed. “I can’t tell you what that would mean.”
“My pleasure,” Bel smiled. “Captain, moving on, it would be useful, if your people are going to work alongside ours, that we have some means of being able to identify them and distinguish one from another.”
“The bandanas..” Leonard muttered across to Lirik.
“Actually, I’ve requested to the Captain that we utilise the many abandoned prototype uniforms we’ve found in storage,” the Englishman said.
“Er…you have?” Christian said, not recalling.
“Yes Sir,” Lirik pushed yet another small padd across the table to the Captain. “With replicators off line, there’s more than enough of them to go around, even if they are varying in design.”
Christian nodded, tabbing through the multifarious uniform images. “See to it, but they’re only a temporary measure until we can replicate new uniforms, mind.”
“If there’s nothing else for now..” Bel said, moving things along.
“Actually, there’s a lot more. I’d like to hear more about this resistance, for a start,” Jackson said, sounding a good deal more polite and respectful than earlier. “It’s our hope… our intention, that rather than run with our skirts hitched up back to Federation space, a journey that could take a great many years, that we remain here, and do whatever we can for our people. Maybe find allies, or maybe come to an agreement with the Tholians to help us.”
Bel raised an amused eyebrow at this remark.
“Or more importantly, perhaps we could play a role in your resistance movement,” Christian half stated, half asked. “Despite appearances, we are well trained, resourceful and experienced-“
Bel interrupted, looking a little downbeat. “Aside from our information network, we have no organised movement at this time. But talk of all that can wait. We need to focus on repairs for now.”
“Bugs first,” Vorn followed through for his Captain.
“Yes. And how exactly are you proposing to get rid of them?” Souveson asked.
Vorn shifted in his seat, trying to square off against her. “Normally they nest anywhere that’s dark, warm, dry and undisturbed. But when they hatch they get hungry and seek out food. Most lifeforms are indigestible until they’ve decayed slightly, and that can take time. So for fast food, they have a nasty habit of eating anything biologically less complex, including some plastics and other manufactured fixtures that contain certain bio-elements. Usually the first time you know you’ve got a problem is when they coat these materials with their dissolving webbing. It gives off a negative energy, or reads as unusual low-level power fluctuations in localised areas. Within a few days it’s ready to consume.”
“So…how are you going to get rid of them?” Leonard asked, patiently pressing Souveson’s point.
“We’ll lay traps for the young. Although small, they can be easily duped by bait. If you’ve got an infestation, there could be millions of them-“
“We only know of several thousand eggs…” Christian frowned.
“Each egg sac contains tens of thousands of tiny offspring,” Vorn explained tragically. “They get weak and die if they don’t eat almost straight away. Normally the mother would kill food for them ahead of hatching so that it’s sufficiently decomposed, but if not, they’ll seek out other sources. Those that don’t find food die and then are eaten by the survivors.”
“That sounds like a dangerous pest to have around,” Jackson said, swallowing.
“True enough,” Vorn smiled. “Most ships would nullify and then ship them off for disposal either through disintegration or as trade cargo – the young fetch quite a price as a delicacy in one part of space nearby, you know,” he smiled.
“And what about the adults?” Souveson asked.
“Well, they can be more of a problem,” Vorn turned to her. “Although mostly instinctive, they do learn quickly, and seem to have a sixth sense about any stealthy approach or unusual activity around them, so I wouldn’t suggest any convoluted way of capture. Best the direct approach, hard and fast. Corner them and blam.”
“’Blam’?” Professor Karnak turned in her chair with an air of superiority, one eyebrow raised in curiosity, but she soon wished she hadn’t as Vorn devoured her ample bosom hungrily with his eyes. Christian felt an unusual pang of jealousy mixed with a lustful stirring as he observed how attractive she was to such a brute of a man. He briefly imagined them together in a moment of unbridled passion.
“They’re going to destroy them,” Narli informed her. Karnak’s menacing glance showed him it had been a rhetorical question of disapproval rather than a true enquiry.
“Really…” Jackson turned imploringly to Christian, who looked a little miffed by the turn of events taking place.
Bel looked blankly at Jackson then Christian, a little aghast. “What was it you were expecting us to do, Captain? Give them board and lodging? They’re an invasive and dangerous pest.”
“We do this out of necessity,” Vorn stressed. “Many others leave them to a painful, high-level Bariam ray or flood the ship with a predator species - at least our way is quicker, less cruel.”
“You still kill them,” Souveson added, more out of support for Starfleet principles than any personal belief. And Christian knew as much.
“They’re vermin, it’s a recognised fact that they breed well beyond what their resources allow for and destroy wantonly and without end,” Bel explained further. “Heck, some local races even use them for sport in special 3-D mazes and argue it an effective way to help keep their numbers down.”
“And make money from betting, no doubt,” Reb piped up. Bel turned and shared a smirk with him.
“We have rules about the treatment of other lifeforms,” Christian explained. “Sentient or otherwise. If possible, we would prefer a more humane course of action.”
“Really,” Bel said. She looked over at Leonard who just shrugged in agreement. “You are a strange group, I must say. You’ve got a ship full of problems, the K’Tani are hot on your tail and you are more concerned about the welfare of a bunch of spiders.”
Christian regarded her for a moment. Hopefully, this strange, quirky woman would be the first of many allies they would make.
* * *
2100 HOURS
“Captain’s Log, Stardate 51373.1 The Fantasy has been within Bel’s ship for four hours and the crew appears more relaxed than they have been for days. After a brief discussion, Bel’s main man Vorn suggested a way to iradicate the spiders humanely. He, Souveson and Darmian will enter the spider’s lair with bait, then when they hatch, release a tagging substance so that the drydock’s powerful transporters can scan lock them and beam them all off the ship to a stasis unit. Meanwhile, Lieutenant O’Hara has now pulled the security risk card in an attempt to get any of the Fantasy’s several sick bays up and running. And I have to say, given Bel’s concerns about the identity of those on board, I’m as keen for the screening process to begin as anyone else.”
Christian looked up at Jackson who had walked from his sofa to his desk. “Well?”
“I’ve identified eight Starfleet vessels that were on the outskirts of Qovakia at the time of the K’Tani invasion. I’ve also identified four Jemm H’adar and one Cardassian vessel. Two Romulan vessels heading for the Qovakian borders disappeared without trace,” she read from her padd. “Perhaps one was the ship we encountered at Erowoon. All the other Federation-side vessels it seemed followed orders and returned to Vekaria as ordered by Admiral Street. Though of course, that does not necessarily mean they are destroyed-”
The office door chime sounded interrupting the Commodore’s flow. Christian selfishly hoped for a time soon when he would be able to delegate and be in less demand personally.
The door opened to reveal a casual jeans and tight white vest clad Captain Bel, carrying a small padd.
“Like the kit?” she smiled gloriously gesturing to her attire, teetering on three inch heels underneath the shaggy hemmed slightly flared jean legs. “I got the specifications from one of your old Earth designs in your database.”
“Miss Bel,” Christian re-crossed his leg in a bored fashion. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Bel practically threw herself into his armchair, swung her legs up over the arm, crossing them, and lit a cigarette. Christian was about to protest but couldn’t bring himself to. Jackson’s disdainful expression didn’t phase her.
“I’ve got some information,” she said. “A trader friend of mine has just been in touch and told me he scanned some recently created debris in the VauWin Collectorate’s space. Oh, they’re newly aligned with the K’Tani, by the way.”
“Thank you, I’ll add them to my list of collaborators,” Christian said flatly.
“No, no,” Bel swung her legs back to face him. “That wasn’t the information. It’s the debris. Look, I deal in scrap as well as ship repairs and maintenance, and my friend, well he knows times are hard and thought I might be interested in the salvage. From the sensor information he gave me, the ships were made just like yours. They’re Federation in origin, Captain Christian, perhaps part of your Star Fleet.”
Christian’s attention was suddenly grabbed. “You’re sure?”
Bel tossed him the padd – a Starfleet padd. He looked at it, then at her, wondering how she’d acquired it – she shrugged – then he read the sketchy data. “It’s not that conclusive, and several days old.” Commodore Jackson squeezed herself up to the Captain’s shoulder to read for herself.
“He’s no charlatan,” Bel said, perching on the arm of her chair. “Trust me, the VauWin may outwardly appear hostile and brutal with huge impenetrable ships, but they’re no great space warriors – probably why they caved in to the K’Tani.”
“Are you suggesting we should go and investigate?” Christian didn’t much like the idea of K’Tani controlled space being so close once again.
“It could be a trap,” Jackson muttered.
“You do what you think is right,” Bel smiled sweetly. “But it’s fresh meat. You may find survivors.”
“But…I thought the K’Tani captured survivors and interned them,” Christian frowned.
“That’s right, they do,” Bel answered. “But only where they have the resources to do so. From the details of the spread and composition of the debris, I’d guess that a small group of mid range frigates hit the ships with everything they had – the intent to destroy, not to capture. That’s further supported by the fact their patrols are pretty stretched at the moment – otherwise they would have taken the time to merely incapacitate the vessels and take crew and any of the ships’ resources for their own.”
“Even if it was safe from the K’Tani, what about the VauWin?” Jackson asked.
“Piece of cake,” Bel flopped her hand in humour. “That part of their space is pretty much unpopulated, you probably wouldn’t even see another ship for days.”
“Thank you,” Christian said, smiling at Jackson. Bel took that as her cue to leave and stood. “We should get underway immediately.”
“I figured as much,” Bel said, beaming mischievously and blowing a couple of smoke rings. “I’ve got all the men I can spare transferring over here as we speak so repairs can continue en route. The arachnids can wait, they’re not going anywhere. You’re lucky the Yacht’s in pretty good condition, all things considered, with the help of your people my men should have most systems back on line by the time you return.”
* * *
ACT 3