Previously in Star Trek: Dauntless;

 

While the Dauntless is on a routine survey mission in the Phi Virginis star system, the starship’s first officer falls ill with an unknown disease.  Medical research determines K’danz had been infected with an alien virus and further tests determine she was likely infected with the virus while assigned to the starship USS Sarek in the Gamma Quadrant almost a decade and a half earlier.

 

Captain Koester abandons their assigned mission and on his own authority orders the Dauntless toward the Bajoran Wormhole with the hopes that if they can find the source of the virus, they might find a cure as well.

 

And now the conclusion;

 

 

Captain’s log, stardate 61008.2:

It has taken us the better part of a week to reach the Bajor Sector, where the Dauntless will dock briefly at station Deep Space Nine to procure the information we need to conduct a thorough search of the Gamma Quadrant for the source of the alien virus that is killing my First Officer.

Koester, commanding Dauntless, out.

 

 

            “All stop.  Connect umbilicals and docking latches,” Captain Koester ordered from his place in the center seat.

 

            “Docking latches locked.  Umbilicals connected,” reported Lieutenant Peck, the Bolian helm officer.  “Answering all stop.”

 

            “Attention all hands,” announced Lt Commander Phillip Winters through the shipwide intercom.  “The ship is docked.  Turn all stations over to computer control.”  As soon as the announcement was made, Koester stood up from his seat and headed toward the turbolift.

 

            “I’m going to pay a courtesy call on the station commander.  The ship is yours until I get back, Phillip,” Koester said as he tapped his combadge.  “Koester to Admiral Fil.  Would you please meet me at the starboard docking port.”

 

            “I’m on my way, Captain,” the Cattulan flag officer replied.

 

            Several minutes later, the turbolift carrying both Koester and Fil emerged from the deck in Ops aboard the station.  The captain nodded at the crew manning the various stations, all of whom were now wearing Starfleet uniforms, instead of the mix of Federation and Bajoran, ever since the Bajoran militia had gradually been integrated into Starfleet after Bajor became a member of the Federation several years earlier.  Then the pair walked over to the doors of the station commander’s office, where Fil pressed the chime.  “Come,” a female voice responded just before the Cardassian style doors slid aside, admitting the two senior officers.

 

            “Welcome back to DS9, Captain,” Kira Nerys said as she stepped around the station commander’s desk and offered Koester her hand before doing the same with Fil.

 

            “Congratulations, Captain,” Koester greeted, admiring the Starfleet uniform the Bajoran officer wore.  “I wish I could say we were here for shore leave like our last visit, but we need information from you.  Information about the Gamma Quadrant.”

 

            As Kira offered seats to her two guests, she picked up a padd from the desk, where Koester noted Ben Sisko’s baseball was still displayed on a small stand.  Handing the padd to Koester, she said, “Speaking of information, these files arrived for you via subspace from Starfleet Medical.”

 

            Koester glanced at the screen, then said to Fil, “According to this, Starfleet Medical has identified two other living Starfleet officers, Fleet Captain Kalin Kale and Lt Commander A-ZuRQuIL, both serving back aboard the USS Sarek again, and one deceased, Captain T’Veer, whose blood samples had tested positive for the alien virus.  That should narrow down our search parameters.”  He then asked Kira to transmit the medical reports to Arblo and Kyman aboard the Dauntless before settling down to discuss what the Dauntless might find in the Gamma Quadrant and where they might start looking for their ultimate goal, the origin and hopeful cure of the mysterious virus.

 

            “We only have a few weeks in order to not only find the source of this virus, but to develop a cure, or my first officer is dead,” Koester said grimly.

 

 

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

 

“Death Threat – Part 2” By PJK

 

 

Captain’s log, stardate 61008.2:

The Dauntless has traversed the Bajoran Wormhole and entered the Gamma Quadrant.  We will now begin our hunt for the origin of this mysterious virus.

Koester, commanding Dauntless, out.

 

 

            The senior staff was gathered in the briefing lounge aft of the bridge, compiling the facts they had discovered about the disease killing Commander K’danz.

 

            “From my observations of Commander K’danz and Admiral Fil, an’ compared to the medical records I reviewed of Fleet Cap’n Kale and Commanders A-ZuRQuIL an’ Coster, I have determined two importan’ facts,” announced Doctor Justin MacMillan, the starship’s Chief Medical Officer.  “First, that this virus is only fatal to Earth-born humans, which means any Terrans among our crew, an’ I’m counted among ‘em, must be isolated from the source of this virus wherever we find it.”

 

            “You’re talking a good majority of the crew, Doctor,” Captain Koester remarked with concern.

 

            “I understand that, Captain, but until we know more, we must play it safe.  We can’t afford to spread this virus if we don’ have a cure.”

 

            “An’ what’s the second fact you’ve established, Doctor?” Commander Aladair Wallace, who had been appointed acting-first officer since K’danz had become incapacitated, asked.

 

            “The second fact, based on the testing I have done to samples of both the Commander and Admiral Fil’s blood is that the virus will stay dormant, even in a human, for up to as much as thirteen standard years, after which it turns virulent.  Why it waits that long, I dunna know, but I’m still performin’ tests.”

 

            “Captain, the Gamma Quadrant is a big place,” commented Ship’s Counselor Tanzia Gera.  The red-haired joined-Trill’s face expressed worry.  “Do we have any clue where we will start looking?”

 

            “Well, the most obvious option is to search the star systems the USS Sarek explored over thirteen years ago,” Koester replied.  “The real question is where do we start?  Do we begin where the Sarek began, the Selenda system, and follow their original course?  Or do we start with their final mission in the Wideon sector and work backwards?”  He glanced toward the far end of the briefing table, where Lt Commander Setton To’Lock Arbelo sat next to Command Master Chief Pono Kyman.

 

            “Based upon the log entries and away team reports from the Sarek and the medical information Doctor MacMillan has provided to us, both Chief Kyman and I agree the search should start at the beginning,” Arbelo suggested.  “However, if my memory serves, we can skip the Selenda system and head directly for Gengah.”

 

            “Why is that?” Lt Colonel Sean McIntyre, the Chief of Security and head of the starship’s Marine contingent, asked.

 

            “Because before we even entered that system fourteen years ago, we were ‘warned off’ by the xenophobic race that lives there.  They do not take kindly to unexpected visitors dropping in,” Areblo replied, rather vaguely.

 

            “Very well.  We’ll start near the beginning,” Koester said before touching the intercom control on the table in front of him.  “Bridge, this is the captain.  Lay in a course for the Gengah star system.”

 

            “Course plotted and laid in, sir,” responded Phillip Winters.

 

            “Very well.  Ahead maximum warp.”

 

            Within moments, the Dauntless entered warp speed, leaving the Idran system and the wormhole far behind.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            A week later, Captain Koester sat in his ready room with Commanders Wallace and Arbelo and the COB, Pono Kyman, going over what they had so-far learned since entering the Gamma Quadrant.

 

            “We eliminated the plant life-forms of Gengah IV, V and VIII as the source of the virus.  And since we left Bopak IV, Doctor MacMillan has been able to determine the virus was genetically engineered, not naturally occurring,” Arbelo reported.  “We’re surmising it was created as some sort of biological weapon which, over time, mutated to a form that has become fatal to humans.”

 

            “It soun’s like something th’ Dominion has used again’ other worlds that defied them prior to th’ Dominion War,” Wallace remarked.  “Tho’ the Sarek explored well outside known Dominion space.”

 

            “We’re still no closer to finding the source of this virus, engineered or not,” Koester said with frustration.  “And Carrie’s only got another two weeks left.  Where next?”

 

            Chief Kyman picked up the padd that had been sitting on the desk in front of him and, reading off it, said, “According to the logs, after Bopak, the Sarek had an encounter with the Q, then returned to the Alpha Quadrant for re-supply and crew rotation.  Just after they returned to the Gamma Quadrant, the Dominion revealed itself and Starfleet lost contact with the Sarek for several weeks.  During that time, the Sarek visited Vlitas IV, a planet that had first been contacted by the crew of DS9 the year before.”

 

            “How far?” Koester asked.

 

            “Five light years distant,” Kyman replied.  “About two days at maximum warp.”

 

            “Then set course,” Koester ordered to Commander Wallace.

 

            “Aye, Cap’n,” the Scotsman replied before heading toward the bridge.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Captain’s log, stardate 61026.0:

The Dauntless has entered orbit of Vlitas IV, a planet officially quarantined by the Federation ever since the Sarek’s mission there thirteen years ago, where we have already been hailed by the Elected Leader of the Descendants of Arkmed, Pensora Tark.  He has invited our away team down to meet him in their capital city, Lectain.  Admiral Fil has volunteered to lead a team consisting entirely of non-humans down to the planet’s surface.

 

 

            The hum of the transporter faded as Admiral Penji Fil, Commander T’Ashara, Marine 1st Lieutenant Jeong-Hwan, Lieutenant Rinja Ka’Dan and Chief Kyman materialized in the middle of the same plaza where the Sarek crew had beamed down almost exactly thirteen years earlier.  One end of the plaza was dominated by a large elaborate building that Fil identified as the capital.  At the other end stood an ornate column over fifteen meters tall memorializing the planet’s Elected Leader.  As Jeong-Hwan, Ka’Dan and Kyman pulled out their phasers and looked around warily, T’Ashara removed her tricorder from its holster and Fil slowly spun, looking around at the Vlitasian city around them, feeling both familiar and alien at the same time.

 

            “We’re being approached, Admiral,” T’Ashara reported, nodding toward the main doors of the large building that bordered one side of the plaza. 

 

            “Put away the phasers,” Fil ordered.  “But stay ready.”  The three armed members of the team reluctantly returned their weapons to their holsters.  A second later, the doors swung open and two Vlitasians, both looking like a three meter tall cross between a hairy dog and a large ape walking on two legs, one of them dark brown in color and the other shades of salt and pepper, grey fur covering most of its head and chest, stepped out into the sunshine.

 

            “Welcome to Vlitas.  I am Pensora Tark,” the older looking of the two native beings said before gesturing toward his companion.  “This is my assistant, Denoras Peetas.  What brings the Federation all the way back to our humble little planet after so many, many rotations?”  Tark then paused and took a closer look at Admiral Fil.  “I’ve encountered you before!”  The Vlitasian leader started looking at the other members of the away team, a look bordering on fear in his dark brown eyes.  “SHE isn’t here, is she?!?”

 

            Ka’Dan, Kyman and Jeong-Hwan exchanged puzzled looks before Fil answered, “No, Commander Coster is not here.  In fact, it is her absence that has brought us back to your planet.”  Tark seemed to calm slightly at Fil’s pronouncement and started leading the away team back toward the capital building.  As they walked, Fil explained to the rest of the team, “On our last visit here, Commander Coster was abducted, part of what the Vlitasians considered a normal business transaction.  However, she turned out to be a bit more then the Vlitasians could handle.  Most abductees cooperate with their captors until they are ransomed.  Mickey was, shall we say, most uncooperative.  Needless to say, don’t get separated from the rest of the team.  They won’t take you by force of arms, but if they get the opportunity, they might try another of their ‘business transactions’ on us.”

 

            As the away team was lead inside the capital building, Kyman stopped to look at what appeared to be a crown, displayed on a pedestal in the hallway.  The frame of the crown was bent or broken in several places, there were many empty fittings where jewels should have been and the few jewels that did decorate it looked like they had been glued back on.

 

            “That was… is the Crown of Arkmed,” Peetas explained before prompting the El-Aurian to move on and rejoin the rest of the away team, who were lead into what looked like a combination office and board room.

 

            “What brings the vaunted Federation back to our humble planet,” Tark asked as he took a seat at the head of the large table.  “You say it is because of… HER… absence?”

 

            Fil took a seat near Tark, looking almost ridiculously child-like in the chair built for beings almost twice his size as the rest of the away team stood warily around the room.

 

            “Commander Coster died of a virus she contracted here in the Gamma Quadrant,” Fil explained.  “Now one of the other crew members who visited your planet during that mission has become ill from the same virus and we’re trying to determine exactly where the virus originated from so we may develop a cure.”

 

            Tark and Peetas exchanged a significant look before the Vlitasian leader asked, “And what can we do to help you?”

 

            T’Ashara stepped closer to Admiral Fil’s chair as she said, “We require samples of your atmosphere, water and food supplies, so we may determine if your planet is the source of the virus.”

 

            “Anything we can do to help,” Tark said, his mouth breaking into a toothy grin.  “Peeta, take Commander T’Ashara and help her collect the required samples.”

 

            “Actually, we would all like to accompany the Commander,” Fil quickly said, afraid to leave any of his away team alone with the tricky Vlitasians.

 

            “Of course,” Tark replied.  “We only want to be helpful.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Captain Koester stood anxiously in Doctor MacMillan’s office, watching through the curved window into the lab where the Chief Medical Officer was hunched over an electronic microscope, unconsciously making humming noises.

 

            “Well?” the captain asked impatiently.

 

            MacMillan hmm-ed a little more, then looked back over his shoulder at the captain.

 

            “It’s confirm’d, Cap’n,” the CMO announced with a nod.  “Vlitas IV is th’ source o’ the virus.  It’s in th’ air an’, to a lesser degree, th’ water.  As a result, it has permeated th’ food cycle.  Anyone who spent a significant amount of time on th’ planet’s surface, especially a human, breathing th’ air, eating th’ food, would contract th’ virus.”

 

            Koester tried to hold back his emotions as he asked his next question.

 

            “And the chance of a cure?”

 

            “Better than it was a few minutes ago, but I canna guarantee I can develop a vaccine in time to save her,” MacMillan said with a shake of his head, glancing past the captain at where K’danz still lay unconscious upon one of the sickbay biobeds, Nurse N’gale checking her vitals again.  “These things take time.”

 

            “Do the best you can,” Koester implored the doctor before heading back through sickbay on his way back to the bridge, stopping momentarily to look at his ailing first officer before heading out the door.

 

            “Phillip, hail Elected Leader Tark,” the captain ordered as he exited the turbolift onto the bridge, quickly taking his seat in the command chair.

 

            “On visual, Pete,” Winters responded from the ops console.  A second later the main viewer blinked from an image of the blue-green planet far below to the furry face of Pensora Tark.

 

            “How can I help the vaunted Federation now?” Tark said as smoothly as a used-car salesman.

 

            “I have good news, Leader Tark,” Captain Koester said with a smile.  “We have determined that Vlitas is the source of the virus killing my first officer.”

 

            “Yes, Captain, I know,” Tark replied.  Koester’s expression changed from smiling to confused.

 

            “What do you mean you know?” he asked.

 

            “Vlitas was infected with a virulent disease almost five hundred of our rotations ago when our ancestors resisted the conquest of the Dominion.  They intended to wipe us out, but over a period of twenty rotations we managed to mutate the virus in a way that, while it still causes a sickness in us upon adolescence, we no longer die from it.”

 

            “And you still have records of how this mutation was accomplished?” Koester asked, hopeful.

 

            “Oh yes,” Tark replied, his grin widening.  “We maintain full records of all our research.  In fact, I’m almost positive we have a cure for you.”

 

            “That’s great!” Koester said, his smile returning until Tark spoke again.

 

            “What is it worth to you?” the Vlitasian leader asked.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            “Let me get this straight,” Fil said as he paced Koester’s ready room.  “Tark claims they may already have a cure for what’s killing Carrie, and they want what in exchange for it?”

 

            “All plans and specifications for Federation transporter and replicator technology and warp drive technology,” Koester said.

 

            “They’ve raised their price,” Fil remarked.  “When they abducted Mickey Coster during the Sarek mission, all they asked for in return was warp drive.”

 

            “You haven’t heard the topper yet, Admiral,” the captain remarked with a skeptical expression, reading from a padd.  “Besides what I already told you, the Vlitasians say they will not release the medical research records unless their planet is also admitted into the Federation as a full member.”

 

            “They what!?!” Fil screamed, his pacing suddenly stopped in the center of the room.  “Tark is nuts if he thinks the Federation will admit any planet, especially one as backward as theirs, under these circumstances.  And we don’t even know if they really have a cure!”

 

            “And the prime directive prevents us from giving any advanced technology to the Vlitasians, even if we wanted to, which I certainly don’t,” Koester said.  “Can you imagine those kidnappers and extortionists free to travel the galaxy?”

 

            “They amaze me,” Fil said, finally having calmed down somewhat and moved over to the room’s window, looking down at the planet below.  “Thirteen years later and without laying hands on her, the Vlitasians have managed to hold Carrie hostage, just like they did Mickey.”

 

            Koester watched Fil looking out the window a moment before asking, “What can we do, Admiral?”

 

            “We can hope Doctor MacMillan develops a cure without the Vlitasians.  Now that we know the origin of the virus, maybe he can develop a vaccine?”

 

            “Bridge to Cap’n Koester,” said the voice of Commander Alasdair Wallace over the intercom.

 

            “Koester.  Go ahead, Commander.”

 

            “Elected Leader Tark is waiting on subspace for you, sair,” Wallace announced.  “Do you want me to transfer the call inta your ready room?”

 

            “Yes, Commander.  Thank you.”  A moment later the fur-covered face of Pensora Tark appeared on Koester’s desktop monitor.  “This is Captain Koester.”

 

            “Captain!” Tark said almost pleasantly.  “Have you considered our offer?”

 

            The captain concentrated on keeping his blood pressure down as he replied, “As I’m sure you can understand, I can’t just simply agree to your demands without the approval of Starfleet and the Federation Council, but I am willing to negotiate.  My one concern, however, is what proof do we have that you even have the cure we seek?”

 

            “I assure you, Captain, we Vlitasians are nothing if not painfully honest.”  Tark held up what Koester assumed was a computer file.  “The cure you seek is right on this chip.  I would stake my reputation on it.  All I need in return is the plans and specifications of your matter transport and resequencer technology, your FTL space-warp drive and your assurance that Vlitas will shortly become a member of your Federation of Planets with all the benefits that includes.”

 

            After taking a deep breath, Koester started to say, “As I mentioned earlier, I’m willing to negotiate with you, Leader Tark.  But I can assure you that we will never be able to meet your initial demands.”

 

            “Initial demands?” Tark replied with a bark-like laugh.  “Our only demands.  Contact me when you’re ready to beam down and deliver our merchandise.  …Or inform us of your crewman’s death.  Vlitas, out.”

 

            As the monitor screen turned black, Captain Koester had to resist the urge to punch the screen.

 

            “Do you find him as irritating as I do?” the captain asked Admiral Fil as he looked over toward the Catullan man.

 

            “As irritating as the first time I met the Elected Leader more than a decade ago,” Fil replied with a nod.  Both men’s conversation was interrupted by another call on the intercom.

 

            “MacMillan to Cap’n Koester.”

 

            Hoping for some good news that would allow him to avoid having to deal with Tark again, Koester quickly answered the CMO.

 

            “Go ahead, Doctor.”

 

            “I’m afrai’ I have a bit o’ bad news.  Commander K’danz has taken a turn for the worse.  Accordin’ to my latest readin’s, she has less than seventy-two hours to live.”

 

            “She what!?!” Fil exclaimed, drowning out Koester’s own reply.

 

            “Unless we can get the cure from the Vlitasians, K’danz is going to die,” MacMillan said.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            A small group had gathered in sickbay around the biobed on which the still-unconscious K’danz lay.  Koester and Dar stood on one side, looking down at the ailing woman, while on the other side of the biobed, K’danz’s former Sarek shipmates, Fil, T’Ashara and Arbelo offered what support they could.  Meanwhile, Doctor MacMillan and his staff continued to work around the clock in the medlab, trying to develop a vaccine for the Vlitasian virus.

 

            “What happens if she dies?” Arbelo asked.

 

            “She’s not going to die!” Fil insisted.

 

            “But what if…?”

 

            “She’s NOT going to DIE!” Fil almost shouted, causing both Koester and Dar to look up in surprise.  Fil looked embarrassed as he said, “I’m sorry, Captain.  Commander.  I’m afraid I’m getting a little emotional about this situation.”

 

            “Understandable,” Dar replied, his own emotions barely held in check.  “You’ve known Carrie longer than even I have.”

 

            “If you will excuse me,” Fil finally said, motioning for T’Ashara and Arbelo to accompany him out into the corridor.  The trio stepped into a turbolift, heading toward the 10-Forward lounge, when the admiral ordered the lift to stop.

 

            “I’m not going to stand by and just let Carrie slip away from us,” Fil said.  “I have an idea, but I’m going to need your help.”

 

            “Anything I can do to help the Commander,” Arbelo replied.

 

            “Indeed,” concurred T’Ashara.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Early the next morning, Captain Koester emerged on the bridge, where he quickly received a watch turnover from Commander T’Ashara, the gamma shift Officer of the Deck, before assuming his post in the command chair.  But rather than immediately leave the bridge for her after-watch tour, the Vulcan Assistant Chief Science Officer stepped over to the science user console behind the free-standing science station where her fellow Vulcan, Lieutenant T’Pan assumed the watch.

 

            “Is there something I may assist you with, Commander?” T’Pan asked, momentarily turning to look at what T’Ashara was doing.

 

            “I require no assistance, thank you, Lieutenant.  I am just reviewing the sensor logs for the time since we entered orbit of Vlitas,” T’Ashara replied without ever looking up from the console.

 

            “Transporter usage has been limited to the brief away mission when the Dauntless first arrived in orbit,” T’Pan remarked, having noticed that T’Ashara was accessing the transport logs.

 

            “And it is unlikely anyone will be transporting to the surface again, given the circumstances,” the senior Vulcan commented.  She pressed one final button, which blanked the logs from the monitor screen, then stood and left the bridge.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            In transporter room three, Admiral Penji Fil paced back and forth atop the transport platform, circling around a metallic case, while Lt Commander Setton Arbelo stood behind the control console, tapping his fingers on the darkened panel.  He jumped slightly when a red indicator started blinking and the console came to life.

 

            “T’Ashara’s done it,” Arbelo said with a slight smile toward Fil.  “Sensors will not detect the transporter activity.”  The Terran-Vulcan-Efrosian man then entered a series of coordinates into the console and set the delay timer as he holstered a phaser on his waist and quickly moved to join Fil and the carrying case on the platform.  The timer clicked down to zero, when the system activated, dematerializing the men and material and beaming them down to the planet’s surface far below.

 

            The sun was just starting to rise over the edge of the grand plaza as Fil and Arbelo and their case materialized just below the base of the pylon monument.  Arbelo looked around warily, his hand at the ready over his phaser without actually pulling it out while Fil looked toward the capital building.

 

            On each side of the door of the capital stood a Vlitasian guard, both of whom took a moment to realize unexpected visitors were suddenly standing in the plaza.  One of the guards rushed down to where Arbelo and Fil stood while the other moved into the building.  The first guard watched over the unexpected guests imposingly yet graciously until, several minutes later, Elected Leader Pensora Tark emerged from the capital building in the company of the second guard.

 

            “Lieutenant Fil, have you come to present the merchandise?” Tark asked, pleased to see the pair of Starfleet officers in spite of the earliness of the hour.

 

            “Actually, I’m Rear Admiral Fil now,” the Catullan man replied before opening his own form of negotiations.  “And I have merchandise of a sort here with me.”

 

            Tark looked puzzled even through the thick fur that covered his face.

 

            “Of a sort?”

 

            Fil put his arm around the three meter tall Tark’s waist in a friendly manner and started walking with the Vlitasian in friendly conversation.

 

            “Do you remember my last visit here, many of your planet’s rotations ago?”

 

            A look of fear momentarily crossed Tark’s features as he said, “How can I forget?  It took weeks to clean up the mess Lieutenant Commander Mickey Coster left behind.  We lost several national treasures during her brief stay with us.  It took many rotations for me to emotionally recover from that day.  I prayed we would never have to see your Lieutenant Commander Coster again.”

 

            “Well, let’s just say, if I don’t return to my starship with the cure we’re looking for,” Fil said with a forced smile on his face, “the day you abducted Commander Coster will seem like a vacation in comparison to what I’m going to do to you.”

 

            Tark looked confused again as Fil moved to the case that had beamed down with Arbelo and himself, unlocked its latch and opened the cover.  Inside lay a large, shiny cylindrical object that the admiral lifted out of the case and placed on his shoulder, aiming the device toward the base of the nearby monument.  Arbelo cautiously stepped away toward the edge of the open plaza.

 

            “Um… What is that?” Tark asked, the look of fear returning to his face.

 

            “This is an isomagnetic disintegrator,” Fil replied.  “Like the transporter and warp drive, another interesting piece of Federation technology.”  Fil then pulled the trigger, sending a blast of isomagnetic energy toward the base of the monument.  With a loud explosion, the monument was blasted in one direction before momentum caught up to it and it fell toward Fil and Tark, collapsing into rubble in the plaza almost directly at the admiral’s feet.  Both Vlitasian guards froze in confusion and terror while their leader scrambled to hide behind the guard that had summoned him from the capital and Fil, unflinchingly, simply turned slowly around and aimed the weapon at the roof of the capital building.  With a slight wink toward the cowering Tark, he pulled the trigger again.  In seconds the capital roof collapsed in a cloud of dust.  The front doors of the building burst open in a veil of debris, followed by an object that bounced down the stairs with a clang as smaller bits and pieces fell off.  Tark whimpered as he recognized the dented and broken object as what little remained of the Crown of Arkmed.

 

            “You see, Tark, two can play the hostage game.  But in my case, I’m going to hold your entire capital city hostage.  For every minute you delay in giving me the cure for the virus my crew is looking for, I will destroy another building, monument or structure in your city.  And trust me when I say this; this puny weapon I’m holding is nothing.  At a single word from me, our starship can lay waste to the entire surface of your planet in minutes.”

 

            “You… You wouldn’t!” Tark pleaded.  “The Federation would never allow you to destroy our world!”

 

            “Mister Arbelo,” Fil called out to his shipmate, who had once again moved closer to the admiral after the capital’s roof collapse.  “What is Starfleet General Order number twenty-four?”

 

            “Under certain circumstances, upon the order of a commanding officer or higher, a starship will destroy all life on a planet’s surface,” Arbelo responded before adding, “Paraphrasing, of course.”

 

            Fil lowered the isomagnetic disintegrator from his shoulder for a moment as he looked back at Tark, a look of determination on his face.

 

            “And as a Starfleet flag officer, I designate the current circumstances as meeting the criteria for General Order 24,” Fil said grimly, raising the weapon back upon his shoulder.

 

            “But… but… but… but… I don’t just carry around the record of the cure with me all the time,” Tark sputtered.  “I need to get it from the medical directorate!”

 

            Fil slowly turned to aim the disintegrator at one of the buildings a short distance, away upon which was an emblem Fil recognized as belonging to the Vlitasian Medical Directorate.

 

            “PLEASE!” Tark begged.

 

            Fil looked as if he were contemplating still pulling the trigger before he lowered the weapon from his shoulder and said, “I’m going to return to the Dauntless.  If I don’t hear you have given us the cure within fifteen minutes, you can say goodbye to the better part of your so-called capital.”  He then nodded at Arbelo, who tapped his combadge to activate the prearranged return transport.  In just a few seconds the two Starfleet officers and their equipment faded from view.

 

            “What do we do, Elected Leader?” one of the Vlitasian guards asked.

 

            “Are you kidding?” Tark replied, looking around at the rubble of his capital plaza.  “We get the file and give the Feds what they want.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Captain Koester leaned forward in his command chair, contemplating the image of Vlitas IV on the main viewer and wondering what he could possibly do to obtain the cure he sought from Tark without breaking the Prime Directive, when Lt Colonel McIntyre’s voice broke the captain’s reverie.

 

            “We’re being hailed by Elected Leader Tark, sir.”

 

            Koester’s expression changed to one of surprise as he ordered, “On screen.”  A moment later the harried furry face of Pensora Tark appeared on the main viewer.

 

            “Elected Leader Tark!  To what do we owe…,” the captain started to say when he was suddenly cut off by the Vlitasian.

 

            “Dauntless, I’m prepared to transmit the file of the virus cure to you.”

 

            Koester did not know what to say at first.  After clearing his throat, he finally started, “I’m willing to negotiate a fair compensation in exchange…”

 

            “We just want you to have this information and be on your way,” Tark interrupted again.  “We would get better treatment from the Dominion during its heyday!  Just, please, leave and do not come back.”

 

            “But..  Huh?” was all the captain managed to get out as the viewscreen blanked out, returning to the view of the planet below.  A moment later the turbolift opened and Admiral Fil stepped onto the bridge just as Lt Commander Winters turned to face the captain.

 

            “We’re receiving the file, Skipper.”

 

            “What file?” Fil asked as he sat down in the first officer’s seat to Koester’s right.

 

            “For some reason the Vlitasians have changed their mind and sent us the information we need to cure Carrie’s virus without demanding anything in return.”

 

            “Really?” Fil said with a half-smile.

 

            “Phillip, send the file to Doctor MacMillan,” Koester ordered.  “Have him assess it and let me know what he thinks.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

Captain’s log, stardate 61035.6:

Doctor MacMillan quickly confirmed that the cure the Vlitasians gave to us was the actual vaccine for the virus that was killing Commander K’danz.  After a little testing and some refinement, the doctor has administered the vaccine and Carrie is already on the road to recovery.

I tried contacting the Elected Leader of the Vlitasians, but Tark has refused to accept my calls and the only message I have received from any government official is that the Dauntless should be on its way.

We are now on course back toward the Idran star system and the Bajoran Wormhole.

Koester, commanding Dauntless, out.

 

 

            Once again a familiar group, Dar, Koester, Fil, T’Ashara and Arbelo, was gathered around the biobed on which K’danz was laying.  This time, however, K’danz was merely asleep, not unconscious, and the people gathered around her were happy, not worried with impending loss.

 

            “I still don’t understand why the Vlitasions backed down on their demands and just gave us the cure?” Koester said as he looked down at the placid face of his executive officer.

 

            “Probably just a change of heart,” Rear Admiral Fil replied.  “Maybe they decided helping us was more important than the stuff they wanted from us?”

 

            “I don’t know.  From everything I read about the Sarek crew’s encounter with the Vlitasians and the first couple of days of our own mission, I got the impression there was little humanity in the Vlitasians.  They could have given the Ferengi a lesson in greed.”

 

            “Perhaps they recalled their encounter with Commander Coster and the Sarek crew and realized the pointlessness of playing their games with us?  Just another mystery we may never solve, Captain,” T’Ashara commented, surreptitiously exchanging glances with both Fil and Arbelo.

 

            “Well, let’s just be grateful for small miracles, no matter what their source,” Koester said, gently patting K’danz on the shoulder before looking up at his Chief Engineer.  “The doctor says she should be well enough to leave sickbay in five or six days.  I’m giving her light limited duty for at least three weeks after that.  Take good care of her.”

 

            “I will,” Dar said with a smile as he squeezed his wife’s hand.  “Believe me, I will.”

 

The End

 

Author’s Note:  “Death Threat” started out as a simple premise I thought of one day.  How can I logically get the Dauntless into the Gamma Quadrant, my old playground when I used to write the USS Sarek adventures well over a decade ago?

 

After some thought, I came to the conclusion, since several of our present crew (and their fictional counterparts) were also members of the Sarek, the easiest excuse would be to make one of them sick, with the cause and only possible cure originating from one of the Sarek missions.  So I reviewed all my old stories.

 

The inspiration for “Death Threat” finally came from a story which was itself inspired by a famous American short story, both of which were named “The Ransom of Red Chief.”  The original short story was written by O. Henry, which was the pen name of American writer William Sydney Porter, whose 400 short stories are known for their wit, wordplay, characterization and the clever use of twist endings, a fitting inspiration.  The original story was adapted, with the character of Red Chief becoming the antagonistic Sarek First Officer Mickey Coster (the head or ‘Chief’ of Red Division aboard the starship) and ‘Old Hank’ and ‘Snake Eyes’ (Bill Driscoll and Sam Howard) becoming the not entirely honest but easily overwhelmed Vlitasians.  It was a fun little story to write back in the early 90’s which in turn inspired another fun story that shows cowboy diplomacy is still alive and well in the 24th century, especially in the form of our three 23rd century Starfleet crew members now living on our 24th century starship.  It also allowed me the opportunity to prominently feature several of our characters who normally play more of a supporting role in our adventures.

 

 

The original Sarek story upon which “Death Threat” was based can be found at “The Ransom of Red Chief.”

 

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