Author’s
Note: This story was written during the
summer of 1996 in commemoration of the year the Eugenics Wars ended in Star
Trek history. The submarine operations
depicted in this story, while based on fact, are purely a work of fiction from
the imagination of the author.
“The
program checks out and has been entered into the helm systems, Exec,” Commander
Q announced to Virgil Kane from the
science station.
“Very
well, Commander,” replied the human man with the dangling silver earring on his
right earlobe. The Dauntless’ first officer tapped his combadge.
“Skipper,
we’re all ready up here.”
“I’ll
be right up,” replied the voice of
Space, the final frontier...
These are the voyages of the starship Dauntless.
It’s ongoing mission:
To seek; To chart; To explore.
Slipping the surley bonds of Earth
Going where none have been before!
Star Trek: Dauntless
“The
Based
on an idea by Michael D. Tucci
with
suggestions by Charles W. Boswell
Captain’s
log, stardate 49522.6:
As
a test of the Intrepid-class variable geometry warp drive, Dauntless has been assigned to attempt a slingshot-time warp into the past. If successful, our second objective is to
study the period of the early-21st century.
Because
records following the Eugenics Wars are so fragmentary, the Federation would
like first-hand knowledge of the conditions that led directly to World War III
and the post-atomic horror of the mid-21st century.
Koester,
out.
“Is
everything prepared?” the young captain asked.
“Yes,
Skipper. Though I do admit a fair amount
of nervousness,” Kane said. “I’ve never
done one of these slingshot things.”
“Very
few have, Mister Kane,” Koester replied to the Lieutenant. “And while I am excited by the prospect, like
you I have some trepidation. Mister
Bloom, how are my engines?”
The
Vulcan Chief Engineer, raised since a very young age by adoptive human parents
and therefore prone to displaying normal human emotions, looked up from his
engineering console with annoyance.
“Because
we’re the first starship with variable-geometry warp drive to attempt this
maneuver, none of the standard calculations are working, Captain. I’m going to have to re-enter the basic
formula and re-tune manually during the maneuver.”
Q stood up from her station and quickly
walked across the bridge to look over Bloom’s broad shoulder.
“If
you reconfigure your plasma angles,” she said while pointing to an inset screen
on Bloom’s main display, “you should overcome the temporal effects in the
geometric consolidation.”
“But
the new angle of the warp field it will create...,” Bloom protested.
“...Will
be nullified by the temporal distortion.
Trust me.”
While
the two officers were joined by Kane, the Chief Science Officer, and the trio
attempted to refine their formulas, Koester turned to look at the Ship’s
Counselor, who sat in Kane’s seat to his left.
“Counselor
Sutherland,” he said. “How is the crew?”
Kethry
Sutherland, half-Betazoid on her paternal side, smiled at the captain and
replied, “The crew is ready, if a bit nervous, and just standing by for your
command.”
Koester
smiled briefly as Kane walked back over and stood at Koester’s right elbow.
“Ship-wide,”
Koester ordered to Commander Russell at the ops station near the rear of the
bridge.
“Ya
all’re on, Cap’n,” Ray Russell, a native of deep
“This
is the captain. As you all know, what we
are about to attempt has never been tried by any ship with this new generation
of warp drive. While the odds of success
are in our favor, there’s still a chance we’ll enter the history books with a
bang.”
Every
crew member who had been working on the bridge suddenly looked up from their
consoles and gaped at the captain, eyes blinking in shock. Koester, noticing the look each crew member
was giving him, slunk down in his chair slightly, then cleared his throat.
“I’m
sorry,” he said. “What I mean is; We’re
ready and willing to face whatever the future... (ahem)... I mean, the past has
for us. Bridge, out.”
“That
wasn’t very nice,” Q commented as
she passed near Koester to return to her own station.
“I
think you could’a called that one a little better, Skipper,” Kane scolded as
well as he replaced Sutherland in the XO’s seat.
“I’m
sorry, I’m sorry,” the captain exclaimed, holding up his hands in surrender.
As
everyone returned to their tasks, a moment passed in relative silence until
Bloom spoke up.
“The
formula has been entered, Captain. We
just await your command.”
“What
era will we arrive in?”
Q looked over at the captain.
“The
angle and trajectory should place us in late-2001 AD,” she replied.
“Very
well. Mister Jarquio,” Koester said to
his helmsman. “Set course toward
Sol. Warp drive on my mark.”
“Aye,
sir,” the former USS Sarek helm
officer replied. “Course set.”
“Mark!”
For
a moment, as the warp nacelles swung up into place, nothing. Then, suddenly, the stars lurched as the Dauntless thrust forward into warp
speed.
“Warp
2,” announced Jarquio. “Warp 3... Warp 4...
Warp 5.....”
“Program
is active,” announced Q.
“We
are within Sol’s gravity well,” remarked Kane, glancing up from the display
panel between the CO and XO seats.
“Prepare
to break away...,” Q announced,
keeping a careful eye on her instruments.
“...Now!”
With
a sudden snap and a squeal like a Banshee’s cry, the small starship broke away
from the sun’s gravitational attraction.
“We
have entered a time warp,” Q
announced with a smile.
“Direction?”
Kane asked.
Q quickly scanned her instruments
before saying, “Toward the past.”
The
ship shuddered in the turbulance caused by the temporal passage.
“We’re
coming up on the proper era fast, Skipper,” Kane yelled over the rumble of the
ship’s creaking spaceframe.
“Prepare
to reverse engines,” Koeswter ordered the conn.
“On
my mark...!” said Q. “.....Now!”
Jarquio
quickly reversed power on the warp drive.
Each of the bridge crew braced themselves against their seats and
consoles as the ship quickly decelerated to realspace and came to a stop.
“Report?”
“We
remain within the Terran system,” Q
informed. “Exactly 73 million kilometers
away from Earth orbit.
Both
Koester and Kane smiled at one another.
“Era?”
Kane asked.
“Unknown
at present,” answered Q. “Currently measuring stellar drift.”
Koester
shrugged his shoulders, then said to Lieutenant Jarquio, “Set course for high
altitude Earth orbit, six hundred kilometer apogee.”
“Aye,
sir,” the young officer responded.
The
approach to Earth was taken slowly.
According to history, most space travel ceased after the Eugenics Wars as
exploration was replaced by rebuilding on Earth, with the notable exception of
one space launch in late-1996 left unexplained for almost 300 years. Both Q
and Kane scanned the system constantly, keeping wary for any ships that may, in
spite of the records, have been launched from Earth.
“Lieutenant!”
Q exclaimed to the ship’s Exec. “Look at this!”
Kane
quickly reviewed Q’s readings, his
eyebrows knitting in concern.
“This
can’t be right!”
“What
is it?” Koester asked, walking over to the console where the two science
officers reconfigured their sensors.
“Captain,
something is seriously wrong,” reported Kane.
“There are satellites in Earth orbit.”
“That’s
to be expected. The
“You
don’t understand,” said Kane. “These
aren’t weather or communication satellites, Skipper. They’re armed! We aren’t in the 21st century like we
planned. We’ve arrived at the height of
the Eugenics Wars!”
*
* * *
Captain’s
log, stardate unknown:
Earthdate:
Saturday, April 20, 1996, old calendar.
Due
to the minor inconsistancies between the old standard warp drive and the new
variable geometry warp drive of the Intrepid-class, the Dauntless has overflown her target date of 2001 by five years. We now find ourselves in hiding behind the
Earth’s moon to avoid detection by the so-called ‘star wars’ SDI satellites
launched into orbit in the late 1980’s.
Rather
than abort our secondary mission of historical research and return immediately
to the 24th century, I have decided to personally lead a small away team
consisting of myself, Lieutenant Kane, Commander Q, Dr Dourden, Ensign Lenny and, as soon as he returns from
‘cosmetic’ surgery in sickbay, Lieutenant Bloom.
Dressed
out in clothes of the era, we will pilot one of our shuttlecraft to a hiding
place along the Atlantic coast of the North American continent and
inconspicuously infiltrate the society.
Perhaps we can still accomplish our mission and return with the
information the Federation was looking for?
I
leave the ship under the care of Commander Kethry Sutherland.
Koester,
out.
*
* * *
The
shuttlecraft
“Altitude
six thousand meters,” reported Bloom, now looking almost entirely human with
the exception of his still upswept eyebrows, from the pilot’s seat.
“Begin
scanning for some cave or crevasse we can hide the shuttle in,” Koester
ordered.
As
Bloom and Lenny commenced the scan, Kane shifted over to look at his commanding
officer.
“I
still think you should have remained with the ship, Skipper,” the Exec
scolded. “Starfleet regulations...”
“...Can
be interpreted at the captain’s discretion when necessary when a vessel is out
of contact with Starfleet Command,” Koester interrupted with a smile.
“Captain?!?”
Kane almost whined. “We’re four hundred
years in the past! Starfleet Command
won’t exist for almost another 200 years!
Of course we’re out of contact with Starfleet!”
“Details,
details. Besides...,” the captain said
as he glanced over toward his Assistant Chief Science Officer, the Trill spots
that normally appeared down along her neck no longer visible, “I think I’ll be
fairly safe. And just how often am I
going to get to visit the past?”
“Captain,”
interrupted Ensign Lenny. “My scans have
found a perfect hiding spot for the shuttlecraft. Bearing 202 degrees, range 450 kilometers.”
“That
would be along the south-east coast of
“It
appears to be a well-covered cave, probably never even discovered before now,
on an area of undeveloped land not far from what appear to be homes, businesses
and a major industrial complex. Shall I
plot a course?” Lenny asked.
Koester
nodded as he said, “Take us in.”
“Aye,
sir.”
A
short time later, using the skills of both the disguised Vulcan and the young
human ensign, the shuttle set down within the large, overgrown cave in
*
* * *
The
small group of Starfleet officers, dressed in the styles prevalent during the
last decade of the 20th century, left their shuttlecraft behind and walked into
town. The area was blacked-out due to
the war which moved ever-closer to the east coast of the
“If
I remember my history correctly,” commented Koester with a quick glance toward Q, his resident historical expert for
confirmation, “the eugenic supermen came very close to defeating the
Bloom
looked up from the tricorder he had hidden in his inside jacket pocket which he
had been using to covertly scan the away team’s surroundings.
“That
is correct, Captain. There are reports,
still unconfirmed even in our time, that the Conqueror carried a new superweapon that would vitually have
assured Khan Singh’s victory over the Allied Coalition.”
“While
I must sadly admit I’m more familiar with Bajoran history,” remarked Kane, who,
though human, had spent several years on Bajor fighting against the Cardassians
with the Resistance, “this would be an interesting period to live through.”
“If
you were lucky enough to be one of the ones who lived through it,” said Lenny.
The
conversation suddenly ceased when a bright flash appeared in the sky, followed
by a huge explosion only a few miles away caught everyones attention. Hurrying toward where the sound had originated
near the river shore, guided more by the increasing lights and noise caused by
fires, the flashing lights and sirens of emergency vehicles and the crowds that
had gathered to offer help of simply see what was going on. Most people, both military personnel from a
nearby naval base and local civilians, were armed.
“By
the Prophets...,” Kane whispered as his mouth gaped open.
“Apparently
the war is closer than anyone suspected,” Bloom said. “According to my tricorder readings, this
explosion was caused by a particle beam weapon from orbit! And there are traces of radioactivity in the
vicinity.”
Armed
guards had by now started to order the crowd to vacate the area due to possible
radiation exposure when Koester suddenly exclaimed, “My God!”
“What’s
wrong, Captain?” Bloom asked.
“I
recognize this place now. I visited the
memorial here when I was 10! This is
Electric Boat, where American submarines are built.”
“You
mean WAS Electric Boat, until about fifteen minutes ago, Captain,” said
Bloom.
*
* * *
Captain’s
log, supplemental:
Having
determined we are in Groton, Connecticut, just a few kilometers from the
American submarine base where according to history the final assault against
Khan Singh’s invasion forces was launched, the away team has returned to our
hidden shuttlecraft where I have covertly contacted the Dauntless and arranged for American naval officers uniforms to be replicated and
beamed down to us during a brief window between the SDI satellites when my
starship can approach orbit. We hope to
be able to collect information on the final battles of the Eugenics Wars for
the Federation databanks.
Our
one problem is the fact the American submarine force is strictly male. But Commander Q has assured me she can... disguise herself... well enough to pass
as a male officer, even going so far as styling her hair into a short male
military haircut. The... um...
‘disguise’ is perfect.
As
the sun rose, the six Starfleet officers, now all dressed in the light brown
khaki uniforms of US Navy officers, each with the American rank insignia
coresponding to their own Starfleet ranks pinned on their collars, entered the
sub base.
“Do
you really think we’ll get away with this?” Lenny commented nervously as he
unconsciously fingered the single gold bar on his collar.
“As
long as we act like we belong here, we shouldn’t have a problem,” reassured
Koester.
As
they slowly strolled around the base, it took a few minutes for the disguised
officers to really blend in, unused to the tradition of the military salute
that had not been in common use in a number of centuries. However, once all six officers started
remembering to return the salutes given them bu the enlisted men and subordinate
officers on the base, the funny looks they received quickly stopped.
Making
their way through the inner base gate to what was referred to as Lower Base,
the piers and support buildings along the waterfront of the
“Lets
head into one of the squadron buildings,” suggested Lt Kane. “We should be able to collect and copy some
of the records we’re looking for without too much trouble.”
Looking
around at Lower Base while consulting the map that had been downloaded onto
Bloom’s tricorder, the away team soon located and entered the building that
housed one of the local squadron commands.
“Attention
on deck!” announced the Second Class Petty Officer that stood guard behind the
desk, startling Lenny and not helping either Bloom, Kane nor Dourden very
much. It took the captain a moment to
realize the announcement had been made on his behalf.
“Carry
on,” he said as he recalled the correct response. “We’re here to review the deployment plans
for the boats of squad... err, Devron
Twelve.” It was only at the last moment
Koester had noticed the emblem on the wall behind the Petty Officer identifying
the building as belonging to Submarine Development Squadron 12, or Devron
Twelve.
The
six officers presented their green identification cards, which matched names the
LCARS system aboard the Dauntless had
managed to upload from an American military database with access to the New London Sub Base. After being presented with visitor badges
they clipped on their uniform pockets, the Petty Officer directed them through
a locked door and into the empty corridor beyond. As the door clicked shut behind them, Kane
looked at his CO with astonished admiration.
“How
did you know what to say, Skipper?”
“As
I’ve told you, Exec, my family has roots in the military going all the way back
to the mid-20th century submarine force.
I can show you all sorts of books, journals and letters I’ve got in
storage with all kinds of references to stuff like this.”
As
they moved further into the building, the away team separated into two equal
groups and entered various offices, scanning files and recording the plans for
the upcoming ‘Operation Borderline.’ As
Koester, Q and Dr Dourden entered
their third room and started scanning more documents with their tricorders,
Bloom entered the room.
“Captain,
how familiar are you with this period of history?” the disguised Vulcan.
“Maybe
just a little more knowledgeable than most people in our time. Why?”
“Are
you familiar with what history would call the Second Battle of the
“Of
course. The last major sea battle of the
Eugenics Wars, when American forces, lead by the attack submarine
“That’s
what I thought,” Bloom said. A
thoughtful look covered his face as he continued, “I think we’ve come across a
problem, sir. According to records I’ve
come across, the
*
* * *
“Well,
it’s confirmed,” the captain said as he re-entered the second floor conference
room where the other five Dauntless
officers had waited out of sight. “Due
to battle damage sustained last year which the Navy has decided would be too
expensive to repair,
“We
can’t let that happen,” insisted Q,
who among the away team was the most knowledgable about history and the effects
seemingly small events could have on the future. “According to history, the battle will occur
in about nine weeks, on July 19th. While
you were checking the facts, I contacted the ship and our computer confirms
that without the participation of the Providence,
there is a greater than 85% chance Khan’s forces will win the battle, greater
than 88% chance the eugenic supermen will win the war, and greater than 95%
chance our future will cease to exist as the eugenic tyrants turn on each other
and pretty much destroy this planet. A
domino effect.”
Koester
sat in the seat at the head of the table, not too dissimiler to the conference
lounge aboard the Dauntless, and
looked at the faces of each of his crew in turn.
“I
have a course of action already in mind, but first I want to hear your
suggestions,” he said. His First
Officer, Lt Kane, spoke first.
“We
must somehow prevent them from sending her to scrap.”
“Brillient,
Exec, but how?”
“Well...
We could... Um...”
Koester
nodded in understanding. The five away
team members all looked at their captain in expectation. Finally Koester tapped his combadge, which
was hidden neatly in the left chest pocket of his Navy uniform.
“Koester
to Dauntless.”
“Dauntless. Sutherland,” came the soft reply.
“Kethry,
I need the computer to tap into the SUBLANT mainframe again and insert the
following orders.”
As
the crew looked on, Koester outlined his plan to Commander Sutherland. Both Kane and Dourden’s jaw dropped as they
listened to what the captain wished to attempt.
Q and Bloom simply looked at
each other’s reactions, then back at Koester.
Meanwhile Ensign Lenny, his old nervousness back, looked at each of his
superior officers in turn, gauging their reactions.
“Wi...
Will that work?” the nervous young ensign asked.
“Thou
shouldst pray it does,” Dr Dourden replied in his heavy Avalonian accent.
Koester
stood, the others following close behind, and walked out into the hall.
“Kethry
said there should be a...”
The
sudden loud buzzing of an old printer could be heard coming from a nearby
room. All six away team members walked
into the room and found page after page of paper quickly being spewed forth
from the loud machine. Koester picked up
the end of the long sheet, studied its typed surface, and showed it to his Exec
standing next to him.
“You
really think this’ll work?” Kane asked.
“It’s
going to have to. For the sakes of
millions, perhaps billions of lives, both now and four hundred years from now,
it has to.”
As
the printer stopped, Koester tore the pages from the machine and seperating
them, handing about five of them to each member of his team. Each looked their pages over and nodded.
“This
ain’t going to work if their CO is still aboard,” Kane commented.
“Word
I got when I was confirming the sub’s disposition is that the senior-most
officer still assigned to the
*
* * *
Captain’s
log, supplemental:
We
have no choice but to try and keep our history’s flow of events on its proper
track. To accomplish this, my away team
and I are taking command of the American submarine USS Providence and, if necessary, take her into battle against Khan’s fleet.
*
* * *
The
six officers made the short walk to Sub Base Pier 6, where the
As
they approached the topside shack at the boat’s brow, the topside watch snapped
to attention and saluted before quickly announcing into the ship’s interior
communication box, “Captain, United States Navy, arriving.”
“As
you were,” Koester ordered while returning the salute. “I need to speak to your duty officer.”
Before
the topside watch could call below for the duty officer, a blone-haired man
with lieutenant’s bars on his collars, much like the ones Kane wore on his Navy
uniform, appeared out of the sub’s hatch and quickly crossed the brow.
“I
heard the announcement down below,” the lieutenant said as he saluted
Koester. “What can I do for you,
Captain?”
Koester
returned the salute, then handed the lieutenant the papers he carried.
“Intelligence
reports that Khan Singh is planning to mass his fleet in the Atlantic to launch
a final offensive against the
Lt
Koon blinked in surprise.
“But...
Sir... The ship is in stand down. We’re
scheduled for decom next week. We have
no XO, no Chop, no Weps, no Eng, no Corpsman...
We’ve had most of the crew reassigned in fact.”
“SUBLANT
is aware of these facts, and so am I.
Mister Kane here is my Executive Officer. Dr Dourden will replace your Corpsman. And Ensign Lenny can fill in as the Supply
Officer.”
Koester
turned toward Bloom and Q.
“Mister
Bloom, you can handle the engineering responsabilities I’m sure.”
“Like
running a toy steam engine compared to what I’m used to,” the man with the
strangely shaped eyebrows responded, causing Koon to look at him funny.
“Q... er... Commander?”
“Well,
it’s not my usual area of expertise, but I can handle the weapons department.”
The
other five officers handed Koon their papers and the group all started across
the brow. As they reached the hull of
the submarine, the topside watch returned to the bridgebox inside the shack and
announced, “Correction.
*
* * *
The
group climbed down the ladder of the weapon’s shipping hatch and walked the
short distance aft to the control room/attack center. There, various membrs of the enlisted crew
were going about their business, attempting to inventory everything aboard the
boat for later storage and redistribution after the submarine was
decommissioned.
“These
are some of the members of the crew who have yet to be reassigned,” Lt Koon
explained. “They volunteered to stay
aboard until the boat was decommed. Let
me introduce you to them.”
The
Navigator gestured toward a young man who was sitting in the inboard helm seat,
apparently chatting with some of his shipmates.
“This
is Seaman Rocky Wilson. He’s been trying
to strike for the mess specialist rate, but the war and our sudden orders to
decom sidetracked that plan. At sea,
he’s our most experienced helmsman.”
Koon
then gestured toward the starboard side of the space, known as the attack
center, where four consoles that would normally generate firing solutions
against targets at sea lined one side and, pointing at the sailor with the two
chevrons of a Second Class Petty Officer that SN Wilson had been talking to
stood over an open console, said, “And this is FT2 MacDougal. Everyone usually just calls him Mac.”
Both
Wilson and Mac greeted the newly arrived officers, the fire controlman forgoing
shaking their hands as he returned to his work troubleshooting the electronics
of the console he was working on as another man, this one wearing a thick black
mustache and the khaki uniform and fouled anchors of a Chief Petty
Officer. Koon introduced the captain and
his newly arrived staff to the Providence’s
head maintenance coordinator, who was currently assembling a list of the parts
and pieces that were to be removed from the submarine and distributed to other
boats in need. Chief Pono Kyman quiety
nodded his hello to the officers and quickly returned to his growing list.
“Nav!”
called a spectacled Petty Officer who stood next to the main chart plotting
table at the back of control. “Do you
want these
The
Navigator lead the group of new officers back toward the plotter, where he
introduced them to the crewman who stood there folding charts and marking their
numbers on an inventory sheet.
“Captain,
this is QM2 Peter Koester, one of our most experienced quartermasters.”
A
sudden chill ran down the captain’s spine.
He had not until that moment realized this was the very boat and time
that one of his own ancestors served aboard.
“Hey,
Skipper, he’s got your... (oof!)”
Kane’s
sentence was cut short as the captain elbowed him in the stomach. QM2 Koester had noticed and now looked at the
two officers rather strangely.
“What
the XO was saying,” the captain tried to explain, thinking fast, “is I used to
have a pair of glasses just like those.
Then glaring at Kane, who smiled rather sheepishly, he said, “Call all
the officers to the ward room. I want to
explain what we’re going to be dealing with.”
*
* * *
Gathered
in the submarine’s small ward room down on middle level with his own five
officers and the Providence’s three
remaining original officers, Lt Koon and two young Lieutenant (JG)’s, Koester
briefed them all on what lay ahead.
“Intelligence
reports that Khan Singh’s main battle fleet, lead by the cruisers Conqueror and Napoleon, steamed from
“Excuse
me, Captain,” interrupted Koon. “It was
my impression from recent reports that all
“That
is true,” the captain admitted. “But we
have this information from very reliable sources.”
Kane
leaned over toward Ensign Lenny and quietly whispered in his ear, “Yeah, the
history texts.”
Koester
again glared at his Exec for a moment, then resumed the briefing.
“We
expect the fleet to be here...” He
pointed at a spot on the chart of the Atlantic Ocean that QM2 Koester had dug
out of a chart locker for the briefing which was now spread on the ward room
table in front of everyone, halfway between
“That
is going to require some major repairs, sir,” Koon explained. “We were getting ready to scrap the
“I
have seen to it that Providence is NSSF’s number one concern,” the captain
said, smiling to himself at the thought of his starship inserting new orders to
the Naval Submarine Support Facility’s
work schedule that would assure his ‘new command’ received all the repair parts
and supplies they would need for their upcoming mission on time. “We’ll be ready if we have to push her away
from the pier with our bare hands.”
A
knock on the ward room door interrupted the briefing as Chief Meister, the
ship’s leading yeoman, who was in charge of all the submarine’s records and
paperwork, entered.
“Excuse
the interruption, sirs, but the paperwork all the new officers submitted was
evidently written up so quickly it did not include any names. I need to know who to list on the ship’s crew
manifest.”
Everyone
seated around the wardroom table looked up at the captain, who after a moment
said, “Lieutenant Kane, Executive Officer.
Lieutenant Bloom, Engineer.
Commander... Lotus, Weapons Officer...”
Q glared at the captain, shaking her
head slowly as she heard him used the given name she generally disliked as what
she/he would be known while aboard the submarine. Koester ignored her look and continued.
“...Dr
Dourden, Medical Officer. Ensign Lenny,
Supply Officer. And myself, Captain
K...”
The
captain suddenly stopped mid-word as he realized it would raise too many unanswerable
questions if anyone realized he shared the same name as the Second Class
Quartermaster one deck above. Thinking
quickly, he finally came up with what seemed a viable solution.
“...Captain
Kirk. James Kirk,” he said with a
slighly mischevious grin. The rest of
his crew eithr simply stared at him in disbelief or tried to hold back
laughter.
“Is
there something wrong?” he asked his gathered crew somewhat defiantly.
“No. No sir,” came the near unanamous reply. But as Chief Meister finished writing all the
information down and turned to leave the room, Q leaned over toward the captain and whispered in his ear, “James
Kirk? HA!”
Koester
simply shrugged his shoulders and returned to the briefing.
*
* * *
Following
the briefing, Dr Dourden finally entered the corpsman’s office, actually a
space shared with the submarine’s three inch launcher, and looked disparingly
at the primitive medical tools.
“Stone
knives and bear skins,” he grumbled as he pulled out one of the two bench
lockers stowed under the table and sat down in a huff.
“Looking
upon the brighter side of things, mayhaps now I can enjoy the proper title
accorded me of Doctor Dourden.” A small
smile started to form on the Avalonian man’s face when suddenly a sailor came
running down the middle level passageway and into the launcher space, holding
an obviously injured right hand in the air.
“Doc! Doc! I
was working topside and I cut my hand!
You got a bandage?”
Dourden’s
face dropped as the smile disappeared.
He rolled his eyes, buried his face in his hands and bit his tongue to
keep from lashing out verbally at the ignorant sailor.
“Even
time allows me no respect!” he mumbled to himself.
*
* * *
Captain’s
log, stardate unknown:
Earthdate:
Tuesday, June 26, 1996, old calendar.
The
past weeks have been busy, but have gone by quickly.
With
the new command crew in place, Providence’s enlisted crew
was soon returned to full strength and we all readied the submarine for our
upcoming battle, the emphasis on board shifted from salvage to battle
readiness. A few days ago, Ensign Lenny
took leave from our new crew and managed to return the
We
are now underway, ten hours since leaving the pier in
Koester,
out.
*
* * *
“Bridge
is rigged for dive, Captain,” announced the
“Very
well,” replied Koester as he scanned the horizon through the periscope. “Dive, submerge the ship to one-five-zero
feet.”
The
“Dive,
dive!” Kyman announced over the 1-MC intercom circuit as he activated the
diving alarm.
“Make
your depth one-five-zero feet,” the
“Helm,
ten degrees left rudder, steady course zero-nine-zero,” the captain ordered,
and with the customary repeatback from
*
* * *
Thousands
of miles east, in the western provinces of
“The
preliminary attacks have been successful, your Excellency,” one of the generals
who had come before Khan reported. “The American
coastline has been softened and their morale is low. Our invasion beachheads at
“Excellent,”
replied the ruler of one-quarter of the Earth’s surface. “Has the weapon been transferred aboard the Conqueror?”
The
second general nodded his head, saying, “The gun is aboard your flagship,
Excellency. Conqueror steamed from
“Very
good,” Khan said with a smile. “Only a
fool could destroy my plans. Soon, all
of
“Yes,
your Excellency,” both generals replied with a bow. They turned to leave the room when Khan
called them back.
“Generals,”
he said, still with the same calm smile.
“I am just barely holding on to the loyalty of my people here. If this war goes against me, the population
will turn against me. If, when this is
done, I do not have
One
of the generals gulped nervously. The
other simply bowed again, slowly backing out of the room as he said, “Your
Excellency, your new weapon assures our victory. Nothing can stop us.”
*
* *
*
Captain
Koester sat at his small desk in the commanding officer’s stateroom, looking
through the latest intelligence reports about the approaching enemy fleet the
“Come,”
the captain said as Lieutenant Bloom entered the stateroom. Koester offered his Eng a seat, but the
surgically-disguised Vulcan continued to stand.
“The
engine room is in order, sir,” Bloom reported.
“Eng Dep stands ready.”
Koester
nodded, then studied the Vulcan’s now more-human looking features, which had
taken on a strange expression.
“Is
there something more on your mind, Mister Bloom?”
“Just
contemplating some of the things I have learned since we’ve joined this crew,
Captain,” Bloom replied. “About the
various personalities of the sailors of this era. Such as the ‘breed’ of sailor they call a
‘rack hound.’ The kind that will spend
every off-watch moment they can in their bunk.”
“Yes,”
the captain replied. “I’ve read through
a lot of my great-great-great-etcetera-grandfather’s journals and letters. He mentioned a lot of what you’ve been
learning. But we still have some of the
same type of crewmembers in the 24th century too.”
The
captain looked back down at his desk, seemingly surprised by the paperwork that
still remained there before asking, “Is there anything else you wanted to
report?”
“No,
sir,” Bloom replied. “If you need me
further, I’ll be down in my rack.”
*
* * *
Captain
Koester climbed down the forward ladder to middle level and turned the corner
toward the ward room, his intention to grab a small bite to eat from the pantry
before returning to the control room. In
the passageway stood a Chief Petty Officer the captain recognized as the same
one he was introduced to the day his away team first took command of the
“Good
afternoon, Captain,” Kyman said as Koester passed in the narrow
passageway. Koester stopped for a moment
to talk to him.
“Good
afternoon, Chief. I wanted to ask one of
the more senior men aboard something and perhaps you can help me... How has the majority of the crew been
handling this unusual situation? I mean,
going from the boat heading into decom to being deployed into a war zone in
just a few short weeks? I’ve worked with
most of my officers before, so I know how they can handle stress, but I can’t
seem to get a handle on the crew, and when I ask the
“Well,
Captain Kirk, I’ve been listening to the crew.
A lot of them are very nervous. A
lot are excited. A few are even looking
forward to kicking some butt,” Kyman said with a chuckle. “And a lot of the crew’s attitude and morale
comes down from the top.”
Kyman
paused for an instant, seemingly studying the captain.
“With
all due respect, sir, you strike me as someone very young... Almost too young for the responsability you
now hold.” Captain Koester started
feeling defensive, as if this chief might in some real sense be able to see who
and what he really was as Kyman continued.
“But I also sense something different about you. Something I can’t put my finger on. Part of you is an enigma that doesn’t belong
here, which could work to your advantage with the crew... or be its
downfall. Do your best to work it to
your advantage, Captain.”
“Uhhh...
yeah. Thanks, Chief,” Koester said, his
nerves starting to tingle slightly in the way they only did when his recessive
empathic abilities started to kick in.
“I’ll keep your advice in mind.”
Then, after saying goodbye, he continued on to the ward room, his hunger
almost forgotten after the strange conversation. Kyman, meanwhile, watched the captain walk
away, intrigued by the sense of something he could not place.
*
* * *
Lt(JG)
Zola walked into the ward room stateroom he shared with Lt Koon, the Navigator,
and the other officer who now sat at one of the two small, cramped desks,
Lt(JG) Night, slowly shaking his head in amused confusion.
“What’s
the matter?” Night asked his fellow junior officer.
“I
had to get some paperwork signed by our new XO, and he had just gotten out of
the shower when I walked into his stateroom.
Did you know he has the strangest tattoo I’ve ever seen on the side of
his leg?” Zola replied.
“No. What is it?
Some sort of abstract tribal design?”
“No,
some kind of weird flying saucer with all sorts of pods sticking out of it and NCC-1701 written on the top of it. And it’s tattooed on his inner thigh too.”
Night
looked at Zola skeptically.
“And
why would you be looking there?” he asked.
“That
was the other weird thing,” Zola answered.
“He seemed pretty darn proud of it.
Pointed it right out to me as he was getting into his poopie suit. Told me he got it the night he graduated the
Academy after having a few too many.”
The
conversation about Kane’s tattoo came to a sudden halt before Night could ask
anything more when the 1-MC started buzzing overhead.
“Station
the fire control tracking party.”
*
* * *
The
periscope pierced the surface of the ocean.
“I
hold several contacts,” reported Lt Kane as he peered through the
eyepiece. “Captain, come have a look at
this.”
Koester
walked over from where he had been looking at the perivis monitor to replace
his XO at the periscope. Looking through
with his right eye, he gazed at the scene on the surface.
“It’s
a carrier battle group!” the captain exclaimed.
“American... Atlantic Fleet. We
must have come to PD right in the middle of them.”
The
captain spun the scope in a full circle, completely taking in the scene around
the
“Yup,
there’s the carrier. I think I can just barely
make out the hull number. Sixty... Sixty-five.”
Lt
Koon looked up from the chart taped on the plotter at the back of control.
“CVN-65?
That would be the
“
“Khan
Singh’s fleet,” Kane remarked.
“
“
The
captain trained the periscope onto the aforementioned bearing just in time to
witness the remains of an American destroyer slip quickly beneath the
waves. He then turned the scope fifteen
degrees to the right.
“I
make out two large battle-cruisers, hull-down on the horizon,” the captain
reported. “They must be the Napoleon and Conqueror.”
Suddenly
a bright flash forced the captain to look away from the scope. The perivis crackled with static for a moment
before refocusing.
“God...!”
he exclaimed loudly, rubbing his right eye before daring to look through the
periscope again.
“
“The
Conqueror... It has some sort of laser weapon! It’s blowing whole ships right out of the
water! The rumors of a new super-weapon
were true!” the captain said in amazement.
Reaching
up to twist the hydraulics ring and lower the scope, the captain turned to his
Exec and with a grim face said, “Man battlestations torpedo.”
Kane
nodded, then turned an simply looked at the Chief of the Watch.
“Man
battlestations torpedo,” the Chief of the Watch announced over the 1-MC
intercom before pulling the yellow handle on the general alarm. Suddenly, all over the submarine, crew
members rushed to their stations. In moments
the report was received in control that the ship was manned for battlestations,
yet in those few minutes the
Over
the course of the next hour, the
“Captain
we’re in attack position with good solutions on the enemy,” Commander ‘Lotus’
announced from where s/he stood near the fire control consoles.
“Transfer
the solutions for masters six and eight into the Adcaps in tubes one and two,”
the captain ordered.
“Tubes
one and two ready in all respects,” responded Petty Officer MacDougal.
“Standby... Shoot one!”
With
the roation of the launch handle, the dark green Mk 48 ADCAP torpedo was thrust
out of torpedo tube one.
“Standby
on two... Shoot two!”
Within
moments, a second wire-guided torpedo followed the first into the blue waters.
“
“Sonar,
conn, aye,” the captain responded, looking once again at Kane. “Did they detect our launch transients?” He then turned back toward his Weps officer
and said, “Reload tubes one and two.
Standby on tubes three and four.”
A
few minutes later, as the fire control technicians updated their solutions,
another two gleaming green ‘fish’ were speeding their way toward Khan Singh’s
fleet.
With
a huge thunderclap, the first ADCAP detonated under the keel of one of the
older, slower destroyers. Almost instantly
the ship was split in two and quickly sank beneath the surface. Likewise, one of the newer frigates, recently
captured from the British Royal Navy in the Indian Ocean, soon joined the other
ship on the bottom of the
“Master
six and eight have been sunk,” ‘Lotus’ reported. “Torpedo three shut down prior to
acquisition, but number four is in homing.”
The
captain again raised the scope and watched as the fourth torpedo found its
mark, sinking another of Khan’s ships, but another bright flash drew his
attention to an American ship.
“
The
captain paused, studying the scene he could see through the tiny optics of the
periscope. Sudden realization dawned.
“My
God! She’s making a collision run at one
of the enemy command ships! Down scope!”
As
the periscope quickly dropped into its well, the captain stared at the sonar
repeater display in control. On the
screen, two bright green lines moved closer and closer together.
“Helm,
left full rudder, steady course two-four-zero. Ahead flank cavitate!”
In
less than a minute, the
*
* * *
Captain’s
log, stardate unknown:
Earthdate:
Friday, July 19, 1996 old calendar, 0900Z.
Thanks
mostly to our historical foreknowledge,
Koester,
out.
Captain’s
personal log, supplemental:
The
recent loss of the Enterprise
Battle Group has demoralized what remains
of the American Fleet, but at the same time greatly reduced the number of ships
in Khan’s invasion fleet. And with the
help of our own Tomahawk and Harpoon anti-ship missiles with which we have been
making occasional randomly timed attacks, the invasion fleet is now down to
only ten vessels.
We
may actually get out of this alive!
*
* * *
“My
main worry,” the captain commented to Virgil Kane, “is that because of the
thickness of the steel our hull is made of, our communications with the Dauntless are fragmentary. And while we’re submerged, they’re
practically non-existant.”
“Expecting
the kind of trouble that the Dauntless
may need to intervene?” Kane asked as the disguised Starfleet officer walked
out of the CO’s stateroom and into control.
“Just
call it... an understanding of history.
And it doesn’t hurt to have help standing by.”
Having
heard the last part of the conversation as the two senior officers entered
control, Lt Koon walked over from the plotters where he had been observing QM2
Koester’s course track, carrying the latest message traffic boards.
“The
only assets we’ve heard from since our initial transmission have been the
“I’m
not counting on any help, Nav,” the captain replied.
A
look of concern appeared on Kane’s face as he grabbed the captain’s elbow and
pulled him back toward the CO’s stateroom.
Closing the door, Kane looked at the captain.
“What
do you know that you haven’t told us?” Kane asked.
The
captain took a deep breath and slowly released it.
“Your
job here would be much easier not knowing this,” he said. Kane’s determined look forced the captain to
continue. “According to the history Q shared with me, and I’ve confirmed
this in the computer records, the ship that actually sunk the Conqueror at the end of the Eugenics
Wars, the submarine
Kane
remained silent for a moment, then asked, “And the crew?”
“I
don’t recall, and there is nothing specific in the records,” explained the
captain. “But you must know that when a
submarine is lost at sea...”
Kane
nodded sadly, saying, “Now I understand why you’re so concerned with our
communications.”
The
captain’s response was cut off by an announcement over the 27-MC.
*
* * *
Commander
‘Lotus’ started the ward room briefing two hours later. Laying a chart of the area on the table, s/he
started marking points on it.
“This
is us,” the Weps said, pointing to a black pin s/he had stuck in the chart
about 100 miles east of
Across
the table, Lt Kane glanced at the captain, then looked back at the chart.
“I
suggest,” continued Q, “that we
position ourselves to attack here...” S/he
pointed at an area of the perimeter where the more modern ships were spread
further apart. “We move in fast and
attack hard. Sink the Conqueror and its super-weapon and get
the hell out.”
The
captain looked around the room at his officers, both Dauntless crew and the original
*
* * *
“Man
battlestations!” Chief Kyman announced over the 1-MC as the general alarm
started to bong throughout the ship. All
over the
“All
stations report manned for battlestations,” reported the Chief of the Watch.
“Very
well,” responded the captain. “Weapon
status?”
“Tubes
one and three loaded with Mk 48 ADCAPS,” responded Q. “Tubes two and four
loaded with Harpoon anti-ship. Tubes
eleven, twelve, fifteen and sixteen are of course loaded with the remaining
Tomahawk 109-B’s.”
The
captain nodded, then said, “Dive, make your depth one-five-zero feet. Helm, right ten degrees rudder, steady course
zero-nine-zero.”
The
tension throughout control rose sharply.
Periodically,
as the sub closed on its target, the sonar techs would announce the bearings to
the main contact of interest, but due to the nature of the submarine’s towed
array sonar, the bearings were always given in reciprocal pairs. The captain, with the aid of his fire control
team, had to judge which of the two bearings was more likely to really be
Khan’s flagship. Staring at the
geographic plot across from the chart plotter, he mulled his options.
“If
we stay on this course,” he said to the geo plot coordinator, Lt(JG) Night,
“we’ll be in range to shoot at the starboard bearing in five minutes. If we change course to go after the port
bearing...” The captain pointed at the
bearing which was a larger angle away from their course and would require more
turns to develop a proper solution.
“...It’ll take more than twenty minutes to come to bear, if the target
is even there. And if we’re wrong either
way, we risk detection...”
The
captain closed his eyes momentarily, deep in thought, before making his
decision and turning toward the helm.
“Helm,
steady as she goes.”
“Steady
as she goes, helm, aye,” SN Wilson responded.
A
moment passed before Commander ‘Lotus’ leaned over to where the captain stood
and said in a soft yet excited sounding voice, “Can I please speak with you for
a moment?”
The
captain nodded and followed Q into
the passage in front of control.
Speaking just above a whisper, Q
explained him/herself.
“The
Conqueror is north of us,” s/he
stated. “I’m sure of it. Don’t be fooled into going after the false
bearing. There are ASW helecopters from
the cruisers out there, and they’ll spot our periscope long before you realize
we’re in the wrong position.”
“North,
huh?” the captain said, even though it was not really a question.
Q nodded.
“North.”
The
two officers quickly re-entered control, the captain giving new orders as soon
as he was through the door.
“Attention
fire control tracking party. Based on
information the Weps has just provided to me, I believe our primary target of
interest lies to the north. Helm, left
ten degrees rudder, steady course three-three-zero. We will remain on that course just long
enough for target motion analysis, then come back right to course
zero-zero-five. Dive, once we steady on
course zero-zero-five, make your depth six-zero feet.”
As
the
“Passing
course three-four-zero to the left,” reported SN Wilson. “Ten degrees from ordered course. Shifting rudder.”
“Very
well, helm,” reponded the captain.
Seconds
slowly ticked by.
“Steady
on course three-three-zero,”
“
“Sonar,
conn, aye.”
The
captain passed the minutes glancing between the geo plot at the rear of control
and the sonar repeater in the forward bulkhead, glancing occasionally at his
Weps. S/he in turn would nod
imperceptibly, reassuring the captain with a small smile. Eventually the four minutes passed.
“
“We’ve
got him!” the captain said with a smile.
“Helm, right ten degrees rudder, steady course zero-zero-five.”
Over
the next few minutes, the
“Raising
number one scope,” the captain announced as he turned the hydraulics ring above
his head.
As
fast as it could move, the attack scope lifted out of the well. As the optics appeared, the captain leaned
down, pulled down the handles and gazed through the eyepiece.
“Scope
breaking... Scope clear... There she is!”
Through
the eyepiece, the young captain saw a startling sight. A huge ship, bristling with weapons,
obviously built for war. His
concentration on the target was broken by a sound ringing through the hull.
“
“Fire
control, do you have the solution yet?” the captain asked.
Almost
there,” replied Petty Officer MacDougal.
“We were off on his range until he was nice enough to ping us. Bearing zero-zero-three... Course, two-eight-zero... Speed, 20 knots... Range, 3000 yards... Angle on the bow, port zero-nine-five.”
“Flood
tubes one and two. Open muzzle doors.”
“Torpedo
room reports tubes one and two flooded, muzzle doors open.”
“Match
bearings and...”
“
“Shoot
tube one! Shoot tube two!”
With
a loud whump and a hiss on the starboard side, followed quickly by the same
noises from the port side, two weapons left the
“Helm,
all ahead flank cavitate! Right full
rudder! Dive, make your depth six
hundred feet!”
Quickly,
for a ship of its size, the
Having
lowered the scope, the captain turned his attention back to the sonar
repeater. He watched as the trace representing
the torpedo they were trying to avoid moved onto the bearing directly astern
and steadied there.
“Launch
countermeasures!” Lt Kane ordered.
Immediately, Chief Kyman stood, placed his thumb on the launch button of
the countermeasures control panel and pressed the button.
Down
on middle level, the ship’s three inch launcher ejected what amounted to a huge
seltzer pill into the ocean, designed to cause enough noise in the water to
‘distract’ an approaching weapon.
“Helm,
ease your rudder, right ten degrees,” the captain ordered.
The
“Sonar,
conn, report? Did we hit the Conqueror?” the captain asked through
the conn’s open microphone.
“
“That
Harpoon should have hit by now!” Kane remarked.
The
captain was about to say something when something drew him to look toward Q.
“Missile
went into acquisition beyond the Conqueror. It homed in on a frigate,” the commander
whispered to him.
“Damn,”
the captain mouthed silently.
“Our
torpedo is in acquisition,” reported MacDougal, returning the captain’s
attention to what was currently happening.
“
The
captain gritted his teeth as he responded, “Sonar, conn, aye.”
“Our
torpedo is homing.”
“
“Damn.”
“We’re
going to die!” the
“Calm
down, Dive,” Kane ordered.
“Calm
down? We’re all about to die and you
tell me to calm down?!?”
“Yes,
“That’s
your idea of a threat?” the
“
“Kiss
your butts boodbye, everyone!” the
“Helm,
shift your rudder.”
As
“Petty
Officer Benedict, relieve the Chief of the Watch. Chief Kyman, relieve the Dive.”
Both
men acknowledged as QM2 Koester replaced QM1 Benedict at the plot and Benedict
replaced Kyman at the ballast control panel.
While Kane escorted the Chief of the Boat to the Chief’s Quarters down
on middle level, Kyman sat in the diving officer’s chair.
“
“Helm,
shift your rudder again. Increase to
right 10 degrees.”
The
“
“I
thought the Conqueror was designated
master one?” Kane asked.
A
look of utter disappointment covered the captain’s face.
“It
is!” he said.
And
then the world tipped on its side.
*
* * *
Captain’s
personal log, July 19, 1996, 1330Z:
I
wish I knew more about this historic battle.
Q has always been the history
expert. It might make me feel a whole
lot better about our chances.
The
torpedo that tracked us exploded fifty yards off the starboard stern plane,
tipping the sub into a 45 degree starboard roll, almost sending us to the
bottom. Meanwhile, our weapons have
claimed two more of Khan’s ships, but not our target of interest, the Conqueror.
We
are repositioning for attack.
*
* * *
“What’s
the damage report?” the captain asked.
“Missile
hatches 11, 12 and 16 are damaged and can’t be opened,” Kane reported. “Tubes 1 and 3 are inoperable. Hydraulic systems are down by one-third. Air systems have a number of minor
leaks. And some of the damage in the
engineering spaces the boat took during a mission in the
“Very
well, Exec,” the captain said. “Fire
control, bearing to target?”
“Bearing
two-six-five, range 10,000 yards, course two-five-five, speed 15 knots,”
MacDougal reported. “The fleet has had
to slow to let the damaged ships keep up.
And from the way they’re no longer zigging, I would have to say they think
they sunk us during that last attack.”
“The
odds have gotten a little better,” added Q. “Khan’s fleet is down to just seven ships
now.”
“Seven
to one odds,” the captain remarked.
“They
haven’t got a chance,” Kane added with a smile.
“Raising
number one scope.”
As
the scope poked its optics just barely above the waves, the captain once again
peered through its lens.
“There
it is!” the captain exclaimed. “Bearing
mark! Have we got a good solution?”
“As
good as it gets,” MacDougal said.
“Match
bearings...,” said the captain.
“
“Hell! Our scope’s been spotted,” the captain
growled. “Shoot tubes 2 and 4! Helm, left fifteen degrees rudder!”
The
captain listened as the torpedoes were launched from the
“Captain!”
exclaimed
“
“Helm?”
Chief
Kyman turned to face the young captain, a look of fear in his normally placid
eyes.
“Rudder
has been shifted to emergency, sir. No
response.”
“Dive,
take us down, crash dive!” the captain ordered.
“Thirty degrees down angle!”
“Aye,
sir!” Kyman responded. Quickly, the sub
entered a sharp down angle.
“
“Launch
countermeasures!”
“
“Kane,
get ready to implement our plan!” the captain said, causing some puzzled looks
from the crew in his direction. “Chief
of the Watch, emergency blow!”
Petty
Officer Benedict reached up above the BCP and grasped the two ‘chicken
switches,’ pushing them up to release thousands of pounds of stored air into
the main ballast tanks. The
“Starfleet,
report to control!” the captain shouted into the closest 1-MC microphone. Again, the crew in control around him gave
the captain a look of confusion mixed with thoughts perhaps the man had gone
crazy, but the dire situation prevented any comment.
One
by one, the Dauntless away team
struggled their way into the control room, the final one being Bloom, who had
to almost crawl all the way from the engine room.
“The
rudder ram was cracked apart, Captain.
Probably from the damage the ship sustained last year that was never properly
repaired before we left
“
“We’re
broaching!” reported Kyman. The
replacement diving officer took a look at the captain as the ship shot through
the ocean’s surface and suddenly dropped back to a normal angle. He noticed the captain fumbling to remove a
small metallic object from his chest pocket.
“
The
captain looked at Kane.
“It’s
now or never, Exec!” Kane nodded in
agreement as the captain tapped on the badge he had taken out of his
poopie-suit.
“Koester
to Dauntless. Lock on and beam up the crew, now!”
A
moment passed before the distorted voice of Kethry Sutherland could be heard
coming from the tiny device.
“..’re
having trou... ....ing onto you, Capta..
Sta.. by.”
“
“We
don’t have time, Kethry! Lock onto all
life-forms and energize!”
A
second later the captain felt the familiar tingle of a transporter beam form
around him as suddenly the incoming torpedo detonated below the submarine’s
keel near the rudder.
“Pulling
full rise!” Rocky
*
* * *
Every
capable transporter aboard the Dauntless
was put to use, literally grabbing every human life-form their scanners could
lock onto and beaming them aboard the starship.
Counselor
Sutherland, the vessel’s acting-Commanding Officer for the previous three
months, stood in the transporter room as Captain Koester materialized.
“I
return command to you, Captain,” Sutherland said formally.
“Have
medical personnel standing by to administer Dosalyn,” the captain said as he
noticed that both Chief Kyman and the stern-planesman, SN Tryer, had
materialized on the platform along with Kane, Q and Ensign Lenny. “Have
them report to all transporters and keep the
Sutherland
shook her head sadly.
“Since
each of the away team was carrying their combadge, we managed to lock onto
their stronger signals. But the
submarine submerged just as we managed to beam you all aboard.” On the transporter platform, Chief Kyman was
about to say something when Q
pressed a hypospray against his neck.
Tryer soon followed as they were gently lowered onto the deck, asleep.
“How
many of the
“We
managed to retrieve eighteen members of the
“Eighteen!?”
Koester said in disbelief. “Out of a
crew of one hundred and forty?” The
captain felt a tear forming in his eye.
In
transporter room two, QM2 Koester, the Navigator Lt Koon and the geo plotter,
one of the senior nuclear-trained enlistees were propped up against the back of
the transporter platform while two others were hypoed into unconsciousness and
Bloom rushed out of the room heading for the bridge. In cargo bay two, six more members of the
“Bridge,
this is the captain. Set a course for
the far side of the moon, full impulse.
We can’t afford to let one of those armed satellites lock onto us now!”
*
* * *
“But... Your Excellency... We don’t understand it!” the General
said. “As far as our intelligence
reported, there were no American submarines available to patrol that area of
the
“I
understand perfectly,” Khan Singh said, his dark eyes flaming with rage as he
packed important materials into a large briefcase. “Your incompetence has placed my ultimate
weapon on the ocean floor, lost me my conquest of the western hemisphere, shown
enough weakness for my own subjects to revolt against me and my fellow superior
humans! Joachim has already been deposed
from
The
two generals stood nervously, contemplating whether their ruler, whose empire
now lay in ruin as he and his fellow ‘supermen’ were being overthrown around
the globe, would still carry out his intended threat, especially with the
opposing armies of the Allied Coalition already pounding on the walls of Khan’s
capital city.
“Be
gone,” Khan ordered. “I no longer wish
to look upon you.”
The
two generals backed out of the room, bowing as they went, grateful to be
escaping Khan’s presense with their lives.
The doors to Khan’s inner office closed and they turned to hurry away,
making plans for their own escape before the Allies arrived. Perhaps the
“My
empire in ruins. My armies either
destroyed or deserted,” Khan said to himself once the brief gunfire
subsided. “Everything is lost. Where am I to go?”
The
once-great Khan sat at his ornate desk with his head in his hands, his fingers
pulling at his shoulder-length black hair.
As he stared at the surface of his desktop, he noticed for the first
time the report that had been buried under the various maps and papers he had
been trying to pack away. This new
folder contained information on a secret project taking place in one of the
small nations Khan’s armies had occupied months earlier. As he pulled it out and read through it, a
slight smile formed on his lips.
On
the cover of the folder was written the project name;
DY-100
Class Project
*
* * *
A
hum filled the air, momentarily drowning out the sound of the crashing
surf. Then five shapes materialized into
the forms of human men on the soft sand of the beach.
The
five men laid there silently for a few moments, the waves gently lapping at
their legs, when Peter Koester, Quartermaster
“Chief! Chief Kyman!” the young sailor said to the
man laying next to him.
Chief
Pono Kyman opened his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Where
are we?” he croaked.
“Not
sure. Looks like the shores of
“How
did we get here, Nav?” QM2 Koester asked.
“How did we get off the
“We...,”
Kyman started to answer, then stopped to think.
“Actually, I don’t know. I was
sitting in the Dive’s chair. I don’t
remember getting up... but we
were... somewhere...”
“Oh
my head,” complained SN Tryer.
QM2
Koester stood up and scanned the horizon with his eyes.
“I
wonder is anyone else made it?” he said.
“It’s
a miracle we did!” Lt Koon
said as he helped STS3 Tucci to stand and the five shipmates started walking
off the beach to find civilization and report their survival.
*
* * *
Following
Khan’s loss of the Conqueror and his
invasion force, which was intercepted and destroyed a few hours later by the
submarines USS Albuquerque and USS City of Corpus Christi and several
other Navy ships, the oppressed populations under the control of the eugenic
supermen fought back against the dictators, and the Eugenics Wars changed from
an actual war to a mopping-up exercise for the United States and its allies. The Dauntless
started spending more and more time in Earth orbit as the weapons satellites in
orbit were either shut down one by one or knocked down by ground-based
interceptors.
“At
last report,” Kane told the senior staff gathered in the briefing lounge, “the
groups we deposited near
The
captain smiled as it was confirmed his ancestor would go on to live a full
life.
“The
group we deposited in eastern
“Very
good,” the captain said.
The
meeting was about to break up when the voice of Ensign Natchez called from the
bridge.
“Captain,
could you come out to the bridge, please?
I think you’ll want to see this.”
Captain
Koester entered the bridge, followed closely by Kane, Q and Ray Russell. Their
eyes turned toward the viewscreen, where an object was slowly moving away from
Earth.
Koester
watched the object for a moment, then turned to face the operations manager at
the rear station.
“Is
that what I think it is?” he asked.
“Yes,
sir. DY-100 class sleeper ship,”
“Skipper,
if we can stop them now...”
Koester
cut off his First Officer with a shake of his finger.
“Exec,
we just spent four months making sure history stayed on its proper track. I’m not about to risk altering it now. We can look forward to a nice long meeting
with Temporal Investigations following this mission as it is.”
Kane
nodded in agreement, looking back toward where the
“Our
job here is done,” the captain stated.
“What do you say we head home?”
“Ready
when you are,” Q reported from the
science station.
Koester
took one more look at the war-ravaged but still lovely blue-white planet below,
then ordered, “Mister Lenny... Take us
home.”
The
End
Return to 2372.
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