Stardate
49368.4 - Earth Station
McKinley
“Thrusters
at station keeping,”
“Thrusters
at station keeping. Mooring beams are
off,” reported Ensign Francis Lenny at the conn. He slid his seat over slightly to recheck auxiliary
readouts. “Umbilicles are disconnected.”
“Exec,
are my ship and crew ready?” Koester asked the man sitting at his left. Virgil Kane’s silver Bajoran earring jingled
slightly as the science officer looked over the readout on the screen between the
two command seats, then turned back to look at Koester.
“Everything
is set, Skipper,” Kane replied with a smile.
“Our final crew placements, including the ship’s counselor and my
assistant science chief are now aboard.”
“Ops?”
Koester directed to Ensign Shawn Natchez over his left shoulder.
“McKinley
Station has raised all construction arms to the clear position,” the young
half-Native American man replied.
“We’re
free and clear to navigate,” Lenny confirmed.
Koester
looked at Kane and smiled, then turned back toward the main viewer.
“Mister
Lenny,” he said. “Take us out.”
Space, the Final Frontier...
These are the voyages of the starship Dauntless!
Her ongoing mission:
To seek; To chart; To explore...
Slipping the surly bonds of Earth
Going where none have been before!
Star Trek: Dauntless
“Return to Orig” By PJK
Captain’s
log, stardate 49370.2:
As
part of our shakedown cruise, the Dauntless has been assigned
to the Origami sector on Starfleet’s orders to monitor the situation on the
planet Orig VIII. Apparently similar to
a situation which occured about eighty four years ago, spaceships have been
reporting a sudden increase in ‘boat people.’
Poor, desperate Origami attempting to leave their system in barely functioning
spaceships, seeking asylum off-world. Dauntless’
mission is to investigate and try to
determine the reason for this sudden mass exodus.
Koester,
out.
Passing
a side corridor quickly, he almost did not notice the officer loitering there
against the bulkhead. Stopping
midstride,
“What
in the galaxy are you doing
here?” the captain asked, grinning.
The
petite officer in the blue sciences uniform lost half her smile, causing the
brown Trill spots on the side of her face to twist slightly.
“That’s
a fine way of saying hello, Pooh-Bear,” she remarked.
Slowly
shaking his head, he leaned over to give a quick hug and kiss to the petite
woman, saying as he did, “That’s Captain
Pooh-Bear to you.”
Straightening
his uniform, Koester again asked, “So what brings you to my ship?” He then noticed for the first time the new
addition to the petite woman’s uniform collar.
“And what fool did you con into promoting you to a full commander,
Commander?”
“You
don’t read your own reports, do you?” To
his quizical look she added, “Oh, very well.
Koester’s
jaw dangled a moment.
“You’ve
been assigned to... my ship?”
Q nodded.
“And
as per your standard policy, all those officers reporting aboard from other
commands receive a one-grade promotion in rank.
So, basically, Pooh-Bear...
You’re the fool who promoted me to full commander.”
Koester
rolled his eyes upward as he groaned audibly.
“This
isn’t going to be easy, Poe,” he said.
Q looked at the captain, slight
irritation crossing her features.
“Captain,”
she said. “Shut up and give me a real
kiss.”
*
* * *
Three
Days Later
“Mister
Russell,” he said to the Cajun ops officer near the rear of the bridge. “What does LCARS say about Orig VIII?”
Russell
looked at the display on his panel, then with his thick Southern-American drawl
answered, “The planet wuz fust chahted back in twenna wun niny five by the
stahship Denver NCC-932. Reporded to have a civilizashun ‘bout evun
with Earth ‘round twenny niney.”
The
captain nodded as Russell continued.
“Little
change until the planet’s gov’ment made aggressive ov-churs against its closest
planetary neighbahs, all three Federation membah wolds, aroun’ twenna two
eighty eight. At that time, Stahfleet
assigned the USS Arcturus NCC-1807 to
perfoam blockade duty.”
At
the mention of the 23rd century starship Arcturus,
Counselor Kethry Sutherland, who had been on the bridge talking to First
Officer Virgil Kane, suddenly looked at Commander Russell with concern. The reaction did not go unnoticed by Captain
Koester.
“Something
wrong, Counselor?”
“Not
wrong, Captain. Just... coincidence.”
“How
so?” Kane asked the half-Betazoid Ship’s Counselor.
Sutherland
thought how to word her reply for a moment before answering, “Many of the
senior staff on my last command, the USS
Sarek, including Captain Kalin Kale and the Chief Engineer, T’Veer, were
former crewmembers of the Arcturus.”
“You
do mean the Arcturus-A, don’t you,
Counselor?” Karg, the Klingon security officer asked with a grumble.
“No,
I mean the original Arcturus.” Seeing the expressions of the various bridge
crew members, Sutherland merely shook her head before adding, “It’s a long
story.”
Koester
thought for a moment, mulling through the information he had just been
given. Meanwhile, Kane asked Russell to
explain the Arcturus’ mission at Orig
VIII.
“There’s
not much ta tell,” Russell said, locking eyes with the First Officer. “The mission’s been classified evah since.”
Koester
stared at the ops chief, his eyebrows lifted in amazed confusion.
“Starfleet’s
kept a mission report classified for over eighty years?”
“Aye-ah,”
Russell replied.
“Captain! I’m registering a small ship heading out of
the system,” Karg reported.
“Status?”
Commander
Q, at the science console on the
port side of the bridge, consulted her sensors before reporting, “The ship is
almost non-functional. It’s losing
atmosphere. And I’m reading eighty seven
life forms aboard.”
Without
hesitation, Koester turned toward his helmsman and ordered, “Mister Lenny,
intercept course. Best possible speed.”
“Aye,
sir.”
“Exec,
ready and away team.”
“Aye,
Skipper. Karg, you’re with me.” With a grunt of acknowledgement, the Klingon
joined Kane near the turbolift as the First Officer continued.
“Dr
Dourden, Ensign Natchez, meet me in transporter room one.”
“On
my way,” both men replied over the intercom.
*
* * *
Moments
later, the Dauntless pulled alongside
the almost powerless spaceship. The away
team, lead by Lieutenant Virgil Kane, materialized on the camped little ship’s
bridge.
As
Dourden and
“We’d
like to find out why you and your passengers are attempting to leave your star
system in an overloaded ship that wouldn’t been able to travel one light year
safely,” Kane asked the old yet strong looking Origami man.
“The
Origami military has all the good ships.
The civilian population lives under the worst of conditions and only has
access to these aged, decrepid antiques.
But until recently, none of that was true. The population was happy and prosperous. The planet content. But all of that is gone now.”
“Why
is it gone?” Kane asked, concerned.
The
Origami man looked on the verge of tears.
As Kane put his hand on the man’s arm in an attempt to comfort him, the
man looked into the Starfleet officer’s eyes and said, “Our great leader is
dead!”
*
* * *
Within
the next hour, the eighty seven Origami had all been beamed over to the Dauntless, where a treatment center had
been set up in the shuttlebay. All the
available medical personnel, including Ship’s Counselor Kethry Sutherland and
Commander Q, who both had extensive
medical training, as well as the EMH were now caring for the injured,
dehydrated and malnourished refugees.
One
quick photon torpedo had eliminated the hazard to interstellar navigation the
broken down Orig spaceship posed, and soon the starship was on course once
again for Orig VIII.
The
refugee leader, who identified himself as Stefan Zwelist, was brought up to the
captain’s ready room by Karg, where Koester waited.
Inviting
the Origami man to sit on the couch beneath the large forward facing windows,
Koester walked over to the nearby replicator and ordered Zwelist a drink. Bringing two cups of hot tea over to the
table, the captain sat down opposite the older man and began asking questions.
“The
Federation is aware that a large segment of your planet’s population is
attempting to leave your home system, similar to what happened decades
ago. We’re here to find out why this is
happening again.”
Zwelist
took a deep breath, a sip of his tea, and began to speak.
“The
dark times have returned,” the Orig man explained. A curious look from Koester prompted him to
explain further. “Decades ago, a faction
of the military took advantage of the sudden, unexpected death of our king, and
took control of Orig’s government. The
new leaders eventually taxed the population to starvation to finance their own
initiatives. They even started a war
with our neighboring systems to provide the people with a common enemy, to
distract them from their own suffering.
Then our great leader, who became known to us as King Logan the
Benefactor, rose to power. He lead a
successful revolution that ousted the military leaders and first took the
planet as his own. He then gave the
planet back to us, the people.”
“Two
years ago, King Logan died after a long and prosperous life, but without an
heir. Subversive elements, the students
and supporters of the former military regime long hidden, retook the government
by force and have recreated the old policies of the despots of a century
ago. Now they are threatening war,
Captain!”
Zwelist
and the captain continued to talk for a while, the aged Origami man offering
new insights about the exact situation the Dauntless
faced to Koester. Then, after seeing to
Zwelist’s escort back to the shuttlebay and his people, the young captain
stepped back out onto the bridge.
“Mister
“So
what did happen eighty four years ago, Skipper?” Lt Kane asked.
“Well,
from what Mr. Zwelist just told me, a new leader ralled the people against the
military government that had taken over and the people of Orig made him their
king.”
Koester
sat down in his command seat and stared thoughtfully at the main viewer.
“I’d
hate to think we’d have to cause some sort of revolution to bring an end to all
this again,” he mused.
*
* * *
That
evening, while eating dinner in his quarters with his daughter and Commander Q, the captain seemed distracted, only
playing with his food and remaining unusually quiet.
“What’s
bothering you, Pooh?” Q asked
between bites.
It
took another moment and Q clearing
her throat for Koester to realize he was being spoken to. Looking up at his close friend with a start,
he said, “Hmm? Oh... I just have a strange feeling about this
whole situation. But I can’t quite put
my finger on why.”
Before
the science officer could respond, a voice sounded through the intercom.
“Captain,
this is the bridge. We’ve received a
response to your inquiry from Starfleet Command.”
“What
is it, Ensign?” Koester asked.
The
incident you requested information about remains classified, level Blue.”
The
eyebrows on both the officers at the dinner table rose in surprise. Among security levels, Blue was rather
high. Ensign Natchez’s voice continued.
“Command
HQ also requests you not attempt any further inquiries on this subject.”
Koester
sat in stunned silence for a moment before saying, “Thank you, Ensign. That will be all.”
Q looked at Koester for a moment, a
sympathetic lookin her brown eyes.
“Do
you want me to...?” she started to say before Koester shook his head.
“No,
Poe. We have to go by the rules.”
Tapping
his combadge, the captain then said, “Mister Kane, I want the senior staff
gathered in the conference lounge in fifteen minutes.”
“Aye,
Skipper,” the XO replied.
*
* * *
About
an hour after the meeting of the senior staff, during which the captain
outlined the problems facing them from both Orig VIII and Starfleet Command,
Koester found himself sitting on the bridge, talking quietly with Counselor
Sutherland. She had been listening
intently, remaining very quiet for most of the conversation. When she did speak, it was rather cryptic.
“Help
can come from the most unanticipated of places,” the Counselor commented when
the captain had finished. Koester simply
nodded absentmindedly, busy concentrating on how to solve the problem before
him. “I’m sure you’ll find some way of
working this all out somehow,” Sutherland added reassuringly.
*
* * *
One
day later - Holding station outside the Origami solar system
“Captain,”
said Karg from the security station.
“There is a recorded message incoming for you, eyes only.”
A
puzzled look crossed Koester’s face before he stood up and started walking
across the bridge.
“I’ll
take it in my ready room, Karg,” he said.
Counselor Sutherland watched him leave, a small smile creasing her lips.
Koester
sat down at his desk and pressed the button on his desk top viewer. The Federation’s emblem flashed on the screen
followed by the face of a man the captain did not recognize. The man wore the same Starfleet captain’s
uniform Koester himself wore, and though he was the same general build as
Koester, his hair was longer, fuller and slightly wavy and he wore a full
mustache. Koester could tell by his skin
tone the man was probably a native of Alpha Centauri.
“Hello,
Captain,” the man in the recording said.
“You don’t know me, but we share a common acquaintence and, apparently,
goal. My name is Captain Kalin Kale. I currently head one of the starship development
projects at Utopia Planitia, but I
may be of help in your current dilemma.
What I’m about to tell you could lose me my security clearance. You see, at one time, many years ago, I was
the helmsman of the USS Arcturus NCC-1807...”
*
* *
*
Lt
Virgil Kane, the starship’s First Officer, Lt Jeffery Bloom, the emotional
Vulcan Chief Engineer and the starship’s Second Officer and Captain Koester met
in the Commanding Officer’s quarters. As
far as the official ship’s log was concerned, the meeting was not taking place,
and the two officers attending were emphatically told that what would be
discussed could not leave the room.
“...And
only four people knew the full extent of what happened. Then-Commodore Eric Johnson, the commanding
officer of the Arcturus, his acting
first officer Admiral Bryan Ackermann, the Starfleet Marine Corps contingent
CO, then-Major A. Carey Copeland, and Rear Admiral Jonathan Murrett, Command
Coordinator for sector 1-5-4,” Koester explained. “The incident was so flagrent a violation of
the Prime Directive that they’d still be holding court-martials if it had been
reported. Instead, Admiral Murrett swept
it under the rug. Arcturus’ logs recorded during the mission were sealed, the bridge
crew and Marine contingent all signed non-disclosure agreements, and the Arcturus was reassigned to a new
mission. They were replaced at Orig VIII
by the Farragut, who never knew what
really happened. Two weeks later, with
the situation seemingly under control, monitoring of the system was cancelled.”
Both
Kane and Bloom stared at their captain in shock. Bloom was the first to speak.
“I
can’t really blame Starfleet for wanting to keep this hidden. But how does knowing the whole story help us
now?”
“It
gives us a push in the right, or depending on your point of view, wrong
direction,” said Koester. “I now know
what we have to do.”
“But
Skipper,” said Kane. “I thought you
yourself said we had to go by the rules.
If you’re planning what I think you’re planning...?”
“Mister
Kane, sometimes there comes a time when you have to bend the rules a
little too,” Koester replied with a wink.
*
* * *
A
group of six assembled in transporter room two a couple of hours later, all but
one dressed in native Origami clothes borrowed from the refugees in the Dauntless’ shuttlebay, their skin made
red to mathc the skin tones of the Origami.
“I
still think you should be remaining on the ship, Captain,” Lt Bloom commented
as he took a position behind the transporter console.
“I
need to keep this as small a group as possible, Lieutenant,” Koester
replied. “And unfortunately, I can’t
spare the time it would take to alter your Vulcan features to look like a
native of Orig VIII.”
“The
team’s ready, Skipper,” Lt Virgil Kane reported as he walked up the two steps
onto the transporter platform. “Are you
sure this is the course you want to take?”
Koester
looked at Stefan Zwelist as the Origami man mounted the platform and said,
“After careful consideration and some advice from Mister Zwelist, I’ve decided
this is the only viable option open to us.”
The
captain paused a moment, looking at Bloom once again before saying, “Jeff, you
have the conn. You know what to do. Remember, if you must make any log entries,
I’m not feeling well and have been sent to recuperate in my quarters, doctor’s
orders. The EMH has already been
programmed with the necessary information.”
Bloom
opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the captain.
“In
the event the away team is captured or killed... Initiate plan B.”
Bloom
hesitated a second, then finally said, “Aye, sir.”
Koester
turned once again, looking at each member of the covert away team; Kane, Q,
*
* * *
The
away team materialized at the end of a large, barren field after dark. Both Q
and
“I
was very young during the Great Revolution,” Zwelist started to explain to the
away team members as they began walking toward the nearby woods. “I was barely of age to attend the
state-mandated school, but I remember those days before the Revolution as if
they were yesterday. My family, poor to
begin with, lost everything when the military leaders took control. They took everything we had. Everything but our dignity.”
“The
military police beat my mother to near death when she could not provide food
and supplies for the army. They had
already taken our livestock. Then the
day came when the sentries arrived to ‘escort’ my father to his new job at the
weapons plant. My younger sister and I,
foolish children that we were, thought it meant that soon our family would have
money and all new possessions to replace everything that had been taken from
us. In the end, all it meant was the
money my father supposedly earned was taxed away. And I never again saw my father.”
“Our
military leader had declared war on three Federation worlds, Alpha Rogneu,
Philo III and Chorath. His intention was
by starting a war, the war industry he and his fellow collaborators had created
upon taking control of the government would finally serve a purpose and
prosperity would abound, at least for the ruling elite. Create a common enemy and the people would
work together and be happy. They did not
count on the Federation’s response to our planet’s hostilities against their
member worlds. It only made what started
as a bad situation even worse when sanctions and blockade were imposed on Orig
VIII, forcing many of the poorer citizens to try and leave our world however
they could. Some were so desperate they
started ramming into the starships that refused their passage out of the
system, killing dozens, perhaps hundreds.
But in his continued hunger for power, the leader did not back
down. The day the Revolution started was
the same day I was inducted into the armed forces.”
“King
Logan filled the void the people felt.
He was exactly what the citizens had been hoping for. Someone who was not afraid of our
leader. And once the momentum started,
there was no stopping it. People
everywhere on the planet joined. Even
within the military. Within a day, our
military leaders were overthrown.”
“That’s
all well and good,” commented Ensign Natchez.
“But where do we fit in now?”
“You
know the old saying, Ensign? Those who
do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Orig VIII is back in the same situation
again,” Kane said. “We’re here to
provide the little push White... I mean,
“But
isn’t that violating the Prime Directive?”
The
captain looked at the recently commissioned young officer, a sobering look upon
his face, and said, “Is it really the intention of the Prime Directive to let
millions suffer, die or kill themselves trying to escape the horror and
privation when all they need is a little push in the right direction?”
The
group soon emerged from the woods near a seemingly quiet village.
“There
are many cells who wish to resist,” Zwelist said to the Starfleet
officers. “The main problem is all are
afraid to act. The government is cracking
down on all forms of dissidence. We have
suffered so much that most would rather tolerate our dilemma than cause more
suffering to our families and friends were we caught.”
“But
if someone acts...,” started Q.
“The
rest would undoubtedly follow,” Zwelist concluded with a nod.
Motioning
for the away team to stay put, the Origami man walked out into the first block
of the village. Whistling twice, he
stood waiting expectantly. Koester and
his crew feared that at any moment the brave Origami would be shot down where
he stood, the standard penalty for breaking curfew, by a passing military
patrol. Instead, a higher pitched
whistle soon responded. Zwelist smiled
and signaled for the four Starfleet officers to follow. He lead them to one of the nearest buildings.
“Peter,”
whispered Q as she continued to scan
with her tricorder. “There is a hidden
basement beneath this building. I’m
reading a large amount of electronic equipment.”
“Remainders
of a happier time, Commander,” Zwelist remarked. “And perhaps all that we have at our disposal
to, as your captain suggested, start the ball rolling.”
The
five people rounded the corner of the building, which appeared to be a closed
store on the street level with living quarters upstairs. Another Origami man waited as they turned the
corner and, upon seeing Zwelist, he smiled and hugged the older man.
“My
young cousin, Walhen,” Zwelist explained.
“My last remaining blood relative.”
“The
government propaganda broadcasts announced your ship was destroyed, Stefan,”
Walhen explained. “They said it was shot
down by government fighters as an example to traitors who attempt desertion!”
“The
ship was destroyed,” Zwelist
commented, “but only after our passengers and crew were rescued by a Federation
starship.”
Walhen’s
eyes grew wide at the mention of the Federation. It was then that Zwelist chose to introduce
the people with him to his cousin.
“We’re
here to help you,” Koester reassured.
With
a nod, Walhen turned and pressed his palm up against the wall of the
building. Noiselessly, bricks moved
inward and slid aside. The entrance had
been so perfectly hidden that it had not even been detected by Commander Q’s tricorder before it opened.
Walhen
lead the way inside, followed by Kane,
“We
have one advantage that Wh...
“We
can rally the entire planet to the cause!”
Kane
walked back over to the captain, an unhappy look on his face.
“It
doesn’t look good, Skipper,” the executive officer reported. “Most of the wiring’s burned out. Some of the cameras still use what I believe
used to be called vacuum tubes...”
“All
we need is one camera and two monitors, Exec.
We have to be recorded while seeing what we are recording while also
seeing what’s going out on the government channels,” Koester explained.
“But
won’t the state security police put down any uprising before it even got
organized?” Walhen asked.
“Oh...
I have a feeling the government forces will be suitably distracted by that
time... if my calculations are correct,” Koester answered, then turned his
attention back to Kane.
“Have
Commander Q and
*
* * *
A
day passed on the planet, during which the Starfleet away team, now joined by a
dozen Origami from Welhan’s local cell, worked without pause to repair the old
and outdated equipment. Koester
maintained periodic checks with Bloom back aboard the Dauntless by way of a secure scrambled comm channel between
assisting in repairing the equipment and cleaning up the room so it could be
used when fixed. Everyone remained busy
except for one hour during which the group was warned that security forces were
in the village and they ceased their work.
By nightfall they had a primitive but working television studio set up.
It
was to much of their newfound friend’s annoyance that the Origami later heard
the reason for the security forces being in the area was they had arrived to
‘escort’ two of the neighboring residents to their new jobs at a weapons
manufacturing plant.
*
* * *
“Are
we set up, Exec?”
“Ready
when you are, Skipper,” Kane replied.
Koester
tapped the combadge hidden under his Origami jacket.
“Are
you ready for phase III, Mister Bloom?”
A
simple, curt, “Yes,” was all that responded.
All the away team had left to do was sit and wait.
*
* * *
On
the bridge of the Dauntless, Lt Jeff
Bloom finished entering some figures into the panel between the two command
seats.
“Ensign
Lenny,” he said to the officer at the helm.
“Launch a class 3 probe on the heading I’ve just computed. I wish to monitor the situation on Orig a
little more closely.”
“Aye,
Lieutenant,” Lenny replied.
“Lieutenant!”
exclaimed Commandr Ray Russell from his post at ops. “If ya launch on that trajectry...”
“You
are mistaken,” Bloom interrupted the Chief of Operations.
“No,
Lieutenant. I used ta command a
starship, so I know what I’mah talkin’ about.
The probe’ll...”
“I
said... you are mistaken... Commander.”
Having
never seen anger displayed on a Vulcan’s features before, the look in Bloom’s
eyes took Russell by surprise. Rather
than press the point, the ops officer merely changed his monitor to some other
work he needed to attend to as Bloom simply returned his gaze to the main
viewer.
“Probe
away,” announced Lenny.
“Monitoring... The probe
is... Lieutenant, on it’s current
trajectory, the probe will enter the planet’s gravity well. Estimating time until it enter’s the
atmosphere... ninety four minutes.”
“Hmmm... Quite interesting,” Bloom remarked. “I must have miscalculated.”
*
* * *
The
sun had risen, beginning the second day of the away team’s stay on Orig. Koester and Q, both deciding they needed a breath of fresh air away from the
others for a short while before the next stage of their plan began, but
remaining careful not to attract the attentions of any security patrols, went
for a short walk together while remaining close to the building where the
resistance cell was located. Both
spotted the signal that the next stage had begun at the same time.
High
above, a small object was tumbling through the atmosphere, leaving a kilometers
long vapor trail behind as it heated up from atmospheric entry. Following along its course, more than a dozen
Origami fightercraft tracked the object’s descent.
Koester
smiled slightly, then said, “Come on, Poe.
Our real work is about to begin.”
*
* * *
All
over the planet, security forces were put on alert for a potential
invasion. Guards and police forces were
removed from the factories and work farms to augment planetary security.
Mere
moments after what had turned out to be a simple probe tumbling out of orbit,
far too pitted and scarred from atmosphereic entry to remain identifiable, had
crashed in a barren desert on Orig’s eastern continent, the viewer screens all
around the planet suddenly turned to static before changing into the image of
two men. The older one took a step
closer to the camera recording the image and started to speak, while his cousin
Welhan looked on.
“People
of Orig... We must unite! I am Stefan, a
soldier of
The
message on the viewscreens was the trigger the people of Orig VIII had been
waiting to be pulled since the new regime had assumed power. And once pulled, like a rifle or phaser beam,
there was no stopping the released energy.
All around the planet, workers everywhere dropped their state-provided
tools and equipment and left their jobs, overrunning the few guards that
remained to oppose them. The people
gathered as they had not been allowed to before, trampling all government
authority that tried to stand in their way.
Building by building, town by town, province by province, the planet was
reclaimed by its citizens for its citizens.
Reclaimed from the precipice of oppression.
*
* * *
Captain’s
log, stardate 49375.5:
The
Dauntless has been requested to remain in orbit of
Orig VIII to monitor the situation by the planet’s new interim government, put
in place following the latest successful revolution by the people, and which
lasted all of three days.
The
planet’s former military leaders are now all in prison, awaiting trials for
crimes against Origami, and democratic elections will be scheduled for the near
future to help prevent any future military coups. Once the situation has settled down, Dauntless will depart the system for our next shakedown assignment.
Koester,
out.
Captain’s
personal log, stardate 49375.5:
If
Starfleet ever gets word of what I did here, I’m going to be in a planet-sized
amount of trouble.
*
* * *
Lieutenant
Jeffery Bloom and Dr Azriel Dourden were standing in sickbay, arguing about the
captain’s health.
“He
has been very ill the last five days,” Bloom insisted.
“If
the captain was ill, wouldst not I be the one first to know of it?” Dourden
countered.
“Maybe
he didn’t come to see you?”
“Who
else wouldst he see?”
Right
then, the sickbay doors opened and Captain Peter Koester walked in, followed
closely by Commander Q.
“Ahh,
Captain,” Dourden started to say.
“Mister Bloom is under the mistaken...”
Koester
put up his hand to pause the Avalonian doctor before saying, “Computer,
activate the EMH.” Dourden frowned at
the mention of the sickbay’s holodoc.
The
bald-headed hologram, his physical appearance based upon the engineer at
Jupiter Station that had designed and programmed the EMH, appeared in the
center of sickbay.
“Please
state the nature of the medical emergency,” the hologram asked, then upon
seeing it was Captain Koester who had activated his program, said, “Ahh,
Captain. I’m happy to see you’re feeling
better.”
“Yes,
Doctor, it was just like you said. I
little bed rest does a world of wonder.”
“At
least you’re inclined to follow your doctor’s advice, unlike some Starfleet
captains I have records of in my program files.”
“Well,
I just wanted to check in with you,” Koester said before giving a slight nod in
the direction of Dourden. “Computer, end
EMH program.”
With
a two-tone computer acknowledgement, the hologram faded from view. Koester turned to where Bloom and Dourden
stood, the emotional Vulcan with a rather smug look on his features, the doctor
with his mouth hanging wide open.
“Gentlemen,”
the captain acknowledged. “How are you
today, Doc?”
Dourden
continued to stare at the captain, forcing grins to appear on both Koester and Q’s faces, until Bloom closed Dourden’s
agape mouth for him. As Koester and Q turned to leave, the captain’s arm
around his close friend’s waist, Dourden shouted, “As I have told thee before,
I am called Sir Azriel, NOT DOC!”
As
Q and Koester slowly walked down the
passageway, Q spoke.
“Pooh,
why did we go through all this trouble keeping this whole situation quiet? Reprogramming the holodoc and
everything? Why did we have to interfere
like we did?”
“It’s
a fairly long story that you’re probably better off not knowing the details
of. Suffice to say, the first Orig
revolution eighty four years ago was actually a case of cultural
contamination.”
“
Koester
shook his head.
“I
didn’t want a repeat of history. That’s
why I had to let the Origami we worked with know we were Starfleet officers. They needed to do all the hard work
themselves. I couldn’t afford one of us
actually leading the charge and winding up as King.”
“Or
Queen,” Q said with a nudge at
Koester’s ribs. “Hmmm... Queen Q
the First. I kinda like the sound of
that.”
“Don’t
even kid around,” Koester warned with a half-smile.
Q simply returned the smile, her brown
eyes twinkling.
The
End
Return to 2372.
Return to Stories Archive.
For the Star Trek: Arcturus prequel to this story, click here for “Ship After Ship
After Ship…”