The Neutral Zone (cv) 01 - The Living Legend
THE NEUTRAL ZONE
(canon version)
by Soledad
Author's note: For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the secondary index page
This particular story is based on the similarly-titled story idea of Greg Strangis.
Timeframe: late season 1. For continuity’s sake I assumed that the actual “Neutral Zone” episode (the last one of Season 1) took place before the episode “Conspiracy” (the penultimate one of the same season).
Andorian Ambassador Charivretha zh’Thane is a character from the DS9 re-launch books.
Captain Javier Hajar is the father of Cadet Jean Hajar from the 5th season TNG-episode “The First Duty”. He is an original character of mine, “played” by French actor Renaud Marx. Commander Billings is “played” by Roy Scheider.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER 01 - THE LIVING LEGEND
Captain’s Log, Stardate 41996.1
Jean-Luc Picard recording
After the close - too close - encounter with the alien parasites that had recently infiltrated the highest ranks of Starfleet Command, the Enterprise has left Earth and is now heading towards Gorn space, where we are to assist with the debate about some disputed territory between the Gorn and their neighbours, the felinoid Kzinti. As both races are known for their aggressive, territorial nature and their tendency to shoot first and discuss the problem at hand later (if ever), the leader of the negotiations, Andorian Ambassador Charivretha zh’Thane had asked for a demonstration of power, hoping that the mere presence of Starfleet’s flagship would inspire the parties to… erm… behave themselves, I think the expression she used had been.
Personally, I have my doubts about the wisdom of such demonstrations, but as the negotiations take place on neutral territory, I hope it won’t come to any atrocities. The eventual chance to visit the planet Cestus III, the location of the first contact with the Gorn - now a flourishing Federation colony - goes a long way to reconcile me with this mission, though. This is a place I’ve dreamed to visit since I was a child, but haven’t found the opportunity to do so - until now. I hope…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The signal of his subspace comm unit interrupted him, announcing an incoming message. Picard glanced at the UFP logo on the screen; the call came directly from Starfleet Command and bore the code of eyes only messages.
“Computer, stop recording,” he said calmly. “Save log entry for further editing; then open channel.”
“Security code required,” the emotionless female voice of the computer told him after the usual ping tone that acknowledged every order.
“Omicron-Omicron-Alpha-Yellow-Daystar-2-7,” Picard rattled down his current code; the logo vanished from the screen, making place for Admiral Savar.
The Vulcan was in a bad shape, clearly still recovering from his most recent ordeal, but that was to be expected. Being mind-controlled by an alien parasite not longer than his own hand must have been a hundred times worse for him than it would have been for a non-telepathic human. And while Picard was still haunted by the memory of staff officers acting like mere puppets, ordering their own ships to be fired at and so on, he knew, intellectually, that it hadn’t been their fault. A parasite that could subjugate the powerful, well-trained mind of a Vulcan was to be taken seriously.
He would overcome his instinctive aversion towards the once-possessed officers. Eventually. Until then, he’d do his best to remain civil while dealing with them.
“Admiral Savar,” he said by way of greeting. “This is… unexpected. What can I do for you?”
“I have new orders for you, Captain,” like all Vulcans, Savar was not the least interested in small talk and cut right to the core. “You shall change course immediately - the new coordinates are being fed into your navigation computer via secure link as we speak - to rendezvous with the U.S.S. Washington. Once there, you shall take aboard Commander Nathan Billings and his aide, Lieutenant Tuvok. They will tell you everything else you shall need to know.”
“What about our mission at Cestus III?” Picard had a hard time to conceal his disappointment, but in the end he managed to do so. Showing it to a Vulcan - especially this Vulcan - would have been unwise.
“We have already dispatched the U.S.S. Interpid to fill the gap as your people would say,” Savar told him. “The Enterprise is to head towards her new destination with maximum travelling velocity. Starfleet out.”
For a moment Picard stared sourly at the screen and the reappeared UFP logo filling it; then he sighed and touched his comm badge.
“Picard to LaForge.”
“LaForge here,” came the immediate answer of his conn officer.
“Mr. LaForge, have the new course coordinates been transferred from Starfleet Command to your navigation computer?” Picard asked.
“Aye, Captain. Data transfer has been completed less than a moment ago. Your orders, sir?”
“Set course according to the transferred coordinates,” Picard instructed. “Maximum travelling velocity.”
“Changing course and increasing speed to Warp Factor six by 382 cochranes, aye, sir,” Geordi replied simply.
Picard nodded, although the pilot couldn’t see it, of course. “Very well, Mr. LaForge. Engage.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ships Counselor Deanna Troi was having tea with Doctor Selar in the officers’ lounge when all senior officers were summoned to the captain’s ready room. They had been sitting in companionable silence for almost an hour by then, drinking hot seja, the Vulcan version of herbal tea. They met like this once in every two or three days.
Troi found the fact that she couldn’t read the Vulcan very refreshing. It wasn’t easy for a half-Betazoid empath to live on a ship with a mostly human crew. Humans had very little mental discipline and tended to broadcast their emotions way too loudly for her comfort.
She often wondered what might have ridden her mother to marry a human, of all available candidates (and those, according to Lwaxana Troi, had been numerous). Even if said human had been a Starfleet officer… and presumably a heroic one. Her own family was rich and influential enough to have practically anyone.
“Well, I must go,” she said to Selar apologetically. “Same place, same time, in two days?”
The Vulcan nodded solemnly and returned to the contemplation of her seja, while Troi was hurrying towards the turbolift.
When she arrived to the captain’s ready room, nearly the whole senior staff had gathered there already. Only Lieutenant Yar was still missing, and Troi was surprised by the absence of the security chief. Worf, however, towered in his full height next to Commander Riker; he practically filled the ready room on his own.
Captain Picard got right to the point as was his wont. “I’ll be short, as we don’t have much time,” he said. “In two hour’s time, we’ll rendezvous with the U.S.S. Washington and take aboard Commander Billings, a high-ranking security expert of Starfleet Command. He will apparently be escorted by his personal aide, a certain Lieutenant Tuvok.”
Will Riker arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “Billings? Isn’t he the author of the basic security handbook of Starfleet Academy?”
“Indeed, Commander,” Lt. Cmdr. Data answered instead of the captain. “Nathan Billings is one of the most respected docents of the Academy, has been teaching advanced tactical training in Annapolis for seven years, and. Lieutenant Tuvok is a Vulcan who’s also taught at the Academy for sixteen years and…”
“Thank you, Data,” Picard interrupted. “We all know Billings the career officer, at least from stories and official briefings. What can you tell me about Nathan Billings the person?”
“I am afraid there is not much to say, Captain,” the android replied. “Commander Billings seems to be a very private person. Nothing about his personal life is known; those parts of his file are closed. My security clearance is not high enough to allow access. It seems that he rarely makes an appearance, save from his Academy lessons. But you may learn more from Lieutenant Yar. She has been a student of Commander Billings; he supported her and helped her to get accepted to the Academy.”
“Interesting,” Picard looked around, as if realising for the first time his security chief’s absence. “Where is Lieutenant Yar, by the way?”
“In sickbay,” Worf reported. “She’s suffered an injury during our last training session, but she’ll come as soon as Dr Crusher has fused her ribs. She asked me to stand in for her in this meeting.”
In her constant struggle to improve herself and thus fulfil her duties at peak efficiency, Tasha Yar had chosen to train with Worf, from the beginning of their service aboard the Enterprise. Having a sparring partner that much stronger than she was herself could definitely be seen as an advantage; plus, she enjoyed those training sessions greatly. She was a woman who found great delight in strenuous physical activities.
It was unfortunate that she’d had to go to sickbay right now, though. Her presence as the ship’s chief of security - as well as her personal knowledge about Commander Billings - would have come in handy.
Picard suppressed an impatient sigh and nodded. “Well, I’d like her on the hangar deck on time, together with the entire senior staff. Such a celebrity needs to be welcomed properly.”
“On the hangar deck?” Riker repeated, surprised. “Why doesn’t he just beam over?”
Picard gave him a wry look. “According to Captain Hajar, Commander Billings refuses to make use of the transporter… for reasons he doesn’t feel necessary to reveal.”
“There are numerous people with a transporter phobia,” Troi shrugged elegantly. “Even in Starfleet. I know a certain Dr. Pulaski who never uses it, either.”
“Maybe,” Data allowed. “But Commander Billings did use the transporter during his deep space missions without difficulties. It seems strange that now he refuses to do so.”
“He will have his reasons,” Picard said, dismissing the topic as irrelevant. “Very well. It seems that we won’t learn anything either about Commander Billings or about the mission before he arrives. We’ll meet on the hangar deck, as soon as his shuttle docks in. Dismissed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Two hours later the Enterprise reached the rendezvous point on time, as scheduled. Picard was not on the bridge, having Riker occupy the command chair for the time being - something the ambitious first officer greatly appreciated. Data sat at Science Station One, Lieutenant LaForge at Conn and Worf stood at Tactical. The other positions are filled by the usual crewmembers of Alpha Shift. Riker watched the main viewer with interest.
The sight was certainly worth anyone’s attention.
The U.S.S. Washington (NCC - 26214) had beaten them at the rendezvous point - and boy, was she a sight for sore eyes! She was an Ambassador-class heavy cruiser, certainly smaller than the Enterprise but still 526 metres long… not bad for a starship design that was considered aging. Ambassador-class vessels were equipped for science missions as well as for combat, and the U.S.S. Washington, patrolling and explaining the area near the Romulan Neutral Zone for years, had had her fair share from both. She had become something of a legend of her own.
With a daredevil captain, whose fame matched that of the ship. A captain Riker looked forward to meet, if only via the comm system.
“Open hailing frequencies,” he ordered Worf.
“Hailing frequencies opened,” the Klingon replied, his tone showing clearly how much he disliked to be degraded to function as a communications officer. Not that Riker cared. Besides, there had not been such thing as communications officers on a starship for a very long time.
“Washington, this is Commander William T. Riker from the Enterprise. Do you read me?”
The image on the main viewer changed from the gleaming white ship to that of a handsome, dark-haired, dark eyed man in his late forties.
“Clearly and smoothly, Enterprise,” he said with a faint French accent. “I’m Captain Javier Hajar. Are you ready for the transfer?”
Riker glanced at Ensign Mikal Holden, sitting at the Engineering station, and the exotic-looking Daliwakan nodded, without being asked.
“Aye, sir, Shuttle bay Two has been prepared.”
Captain Hajar nodded. “Trés bien. Shuttlecraft is being launched as we speak. Please check back when it arrives. Washington out.”
It didn’t happen often that Riker lost the ability of speech for the moment. This was one of those moments. He was not used to being dismissed without given the chance to say a word. Not even by a living legend like Captain Hajar.
At the moment, however, he couldn’t do anything about it.
He raised his voice, just enough to activate the comm unit in the command chair’s arm. “Riker to Picard.”
“Go ahead,” the captain’s voice answered.”
“Captain, we’ve reached the rendezvous point.”
“Is the Washington already there?”
“Aye, sir. They’ve launched the shuttlecraft less than a minute ago.”
“Very well, Number One. I’m going down to Shuttle Bay Two. Instruct senior staff to join me. Until further notice you have the bridge.”
“Aye, sir,” Riker answered and did as he had been told.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Picard reached Shuttle Bay Two almost at the same time as Dr. Crusher. He raised an eyebrow, seeing Wesley accompanying his mother, but didn’t protest… for now. Data, Worf, Counselor Troi and Chief Engineer Argyle followed soon.
The outer doors of the shuttle bay were open, and the shuttle, held firmly by the obligatory tractor beam, was being pulled in. An officer wearing the black-and-gold uniform of the engineering crew, with an ensign’s pips on his collar, was standing at a control panel next to the door. He attached a second tractor beam, which automatically released the first, stronger one and transferred control to the operator.
This didn’t mean that the pilot of the shuttlecraft couldn’t have landed his or her vehicle safely. Most shuttle pilots could land on a handkerchief if they had to. But using the supporting tractor beams made the landing more secure for the ship, so they always used this procedure, save for the cases of emergency.
Less than a minute later the shuttlecraft settled on the floor safely and the tractor beam disengaged. The hangar doors closed noiselessly.
“Landing sequence complete, the officer on duty reported. ”Shuttle bay is pressurised,” Emergency force fields shut down. You can enter now, Captain.”
“Thank you, Ensign,” Picard gave the shuttlecraft a closer look.
It was a standard Type 6 vehicle: a six-meter-long light, short-range warp shuttle, capable of travelling with warp 2 for thirty-six standard hours. Unlike other crafts of the same type, though, it didn’t have a registration number painted on its outer hull, signalling that it didn’t belong to any particular starship but hat been assigned to a staff officer for his personal use.
In the next moment the back door of the shuttlecraft opened and, after a few seconds, out floated a hoverchair carrying a middle-aged man with grey hair and a rugged face, wearing the black-and-gold working uniform of Starfleet Security. He was followed by a tall, willowy black Vulcan in the same uniform, with a lieutenant’s pips on his collar.
The Vulcan officer appeared calm and inscrutable like an ebony Buddha, only the pointy ears ruined the impression somewhat. Riker eyed him with interest. So, this was Lieutenant Tuvok? Interesting. He’d have expected somebody more heavily built, even for a Vulcan. Security were security, no matter where.
On the other hand, Tasha Yar wasn’t particularly beefy, either.
While Riker was doing his observations, Picard stepped forth, straightening to a proper stance.
“Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Commander Billings. It is an honour for us to have one of the leading officers of Security Academy examining the ship and the crew. I’m sure…”
He couldn’t continue, as the ugly but highly intelligent face of Billings contorted in something that might have been anger... or pain.”
“What is the Klingon doing here?” the commander asked in that subdued voice that told of the irritation of constant suffering.
Picard stiffened and cast a quick sideways look at Worf who obviously had a hard time to restrain himself.
“Lieutenant Worf is my tactical officer and, as you doubtlessly know, Commander, one of the best weapons experts in Starfleet. I count myself lucky for having him in my command staff,” he said evenly. “I must say, though, that I’m surprised by your attitude. I thought that in the recent decades prejudices against Klingons have been cleared out - even in Starfleet’s Security Division.”
“Your opinion in this matter is completely irrelevant, Picard,” Billings interrupted again. “There are bigger things at stake than the configuration of the staff aboard our flagship. At 1600 board time, I’ll inform you about the upcoming mission. I’ll also hand you the list of the officers who will have to leave the Enterprise, effective immediately. Until then, your orders are to change course and head to Starbase 39-Sierra, warp 5.”
The senior officers exchanged grim looks. Starbase 39-Sierra was the Federation base nearest to the Romulan Neutral Zone. Should there be any threat from the other side of the Zone, it needed to be stopped at Starbase 39-Sierra… at the very last. The bad thing was, if the strategic importance of Starbase 39-Sierra was mentioned, it would mean that Outpost #23, the key post of the Federation’s frontal defence, had fallen already due to a Romulan invasion. Which seemed rather unlikely, though, considering that it was the Enterprise that parted ways with the first Romulan Warbird seen in the last fifty years on relatively peaceful terms.
“Counselor,” Picard turned to Troi; guessing around wouldn’t lead anywhere, they would learn early enough what this was all about, “please escort Commander Billings to his quarters. I expect everyone in the observation lounge at 1600. Dismissed,”
~TBC~
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Note: There will be an alternate version of this story, part of my “New Generation” AU, featuring the characters and settings of the “Blood and Ice”-verse. I couldn’t decide which way to write the story, so after years of hesitation, I decided to write both versions.
(canon version)
by Soledad
Author's note: For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the secondary index page
This particular story is based on the similarly-titled story idea of Greg Strangis.
Timeframe: late season 1. For continuity’s sake I assumed that the actual “Neutral Zone” episode (the last one of Season 1) took place before the episode “Conspiracy” (the penultimate one of the same season).
Andorian Ambassador Charivretha zh’Thane is a character from the DS9 re-launch books.
Captain Javier Hajar is the father of Cadet Jean Hajar from the 5th season TNG-episode “The First Duty”. He is an original character of mine, “played” by French actor Renaud Marx. Commander Billings is “played” by Roy Scheider.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER 01 - THE LIVING LEGEND
Captain’s Log, Stardate 41996.1
Jean-Luc Picard recording
After the close - too close - encounter with the alien parasites that had recently infiltrated the highest ranks of Starfleet Command, the Enterprise has left Earth and is now heading towards Gorn space, where we are to assist with the debate about some disputed territory between the Gorn and their neighbours, the felinoid Kzinti. As both races are known for their aggressive, territorial nature and their tendency to shoot first and discuss the problem at hand later (if ever), the leader of the negotiations, Andorian Ambassador Charivretha zh’Thane had asked for a demonstration of power, hoping that the mere presence of Starfleet’s flagship would inspire the parties to… erm… behave themselves, I think the expression she used had been.
Personally, I have my doubts about the wisdom of such demonstrations, but as the negotiations take place on neutral territory, I hope it won’t come to any atrocities. The eventual chance to visit the planet Cestus III, the location of the first contact with the Gorn - now a flourishing Federation colony - goes a long way to reconcile me with this mission, though. This is a place I’ve dreamed to visit since I was a child, but haven’t found the opportunity to do so - until now. I hope…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The signal of his subspace comm unit interrupted him, announcing an incoming message. Picard glanced at the UFP logo on the screen; the call came directly from Starfleet Command and bore the code of eyes only messages.
“Computer, stop recording,” he said calmly. “Save log entry for further editing; then open channel.”
“Security code required,” the emotionless female voice of the computer told him after the usual ping tone that acknowledged every order.
“Omicron-Omicron-Alpha-Yellow-Daystar-2-7,” Picard rattled down his current code; the logo vanished from the screen, making place for Admiral Savar.
The Vulcan was in a bad shape, clearly still recovering from his most recent ordeal, but that was to be expected. Being mind-controlled by an alien parasite not longer than his own hand must have been a hundred times worse for him than it would have been for a non-telepathic human. And while Picard was still haunted by the memory of staff officers acting like mere puppets, ordering their own ships to be fired at and so on, he knew, intellectually, that it hadn’t been their fault. A parasite that could subjugate the powerful, well-trained mind of a Vulcan was to be taken seriously.
He would overcome his instinctive aversion towards the once-possessed officers. Eventually. Until then, he’d do his best to remain civil while dealing with them.
“Admiral Savar,” he said by way of greeting. “This is… unexpected. What can I do for you?”
“I have new orders for you, Captain,” like all Vulcans, Savar was not the least interested in small talk and cut right to the core. “You shall change course immediately - the new coordinates are being fed into your navigation computer via secure link as we speak - to rendezvous with the U.S.S. Washington. Once there, you shall take aboard Commander Nathan Billings and his aide, Lieutenant Tuvok. They will tell you everything else you shall need to know.”
“What about our mission at Cestus III?” Picard had a hard time to conceal his disappointment, but in the end he managed to do so. Showing it to a Vulcan - especially this Vulcan - would have been unwise.
“We have already dispatched the U.S.S. Interpid to fill the gap as your people would say,” Savar told him. “The Enterprise is to head towards her new destination with maximum travelling velocity. Starfleet out.”
For a moment Picard stared sourly at the screen and the reappeared UFP logo filling it; then he sighed and touched his comm badge.
“Picard to LaForge.”
“LaForge here,” came the immediate answer of his conn officer.
“Mr. LaForge, have the new course coordinates been transferred from Starfleet Command to your navigation computer?” Picard asked.
“Aye, Captain. Data transfer has been completed less than a moment ago. Your orders, sir?”
“Set course according to the transferred coordinates,” Picard instructed. “Maximum travelling velocity.”
“Changing course and increasing speed to Warp Factor six by 382 cochranes, aye, sir,” Geordi replied simply.
Picard nodded, although the pilot couldn’t see it, of course. “Very well, Mr. LaForge. Engage.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ships Counselor Deanna Troi was having tea with Doctor Selar in the officers’ lounge when all senior officers were summoned to the captain’s ready room. They had been sitting in companionable silence for almost an hour by then, drinking hot seja, the Vulcan version of herbal tea. They met like this once in every two or three days.
Troi found the fact that she couldn’t read the Vulcan very refreshing. It wasn’t easy for a half-Betazoid empath to live on a ship with a mostly human crew. Humans had very little mental discipline and tended to broadcast their emotions way too loudly for her comfort.
She often wondered what might have ridden her mother to marry a human, of all available candidates (and those, according to Lwaxana Troi, had been numerous). Even if said human had been a Starfleet officer… and presumably a heroic one. Her own family was rich and influential enough to have practically anyone.
“Well, I must go,” she said to Selar apologetically. “Same place, same time, in two days?”
The Vulcan nodded solemnly and returned to the contemplation of her seja, while Troi was hurrying towards the turbolift.
When she arrived to the captain’s ready room, nearly the whole senior staff had gathered there already. Only Lieutenant Yar was still missing, and Troi was surprised by the absence of the security chief. Worf, however, towered in his full height next to Commander Riker; he practically filled the ready room on his own.
Captain Picard got right to the point as was his wont. “I’ll be short, as we don’t have much time,” he said. “In two hour’s time, we’ll rendezvous with the U.S.S. Washington and take aboard Commander Billings, a high-ranking security expert of Starfleet Command. He will apparently be escorted by his personal aide, a certain Lieutenant Tuvok.”
Will Riker arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “Billings? Isn’t he the author of the basic security handbook of Starfleet Academy?”
“Indeed, Commander,” Lt. Cmdr. Data answered instead of the captain. “Nathan Billings is one of the most respected docents of the Academy, has been teaching advanced tactical training in Annapolis for seven years, and. Lieutenant Tuvok is a Vulcan who’s also taught at the Academy for sixteen years and…”
“Thank you, Data,” Picard interrupted. “We all know Billings the career officer, at least from stories and official briefings. What can you tell me about Nathan Billings the person?”
“I am afraid there is not much to say, Captain,” the android replied. “Commander Billings seems to be a very private person. Nothing about his personal life is known; those parts of his file are closed. My security clearance is not high enough to allow access. It seems that he rarely makes an appearance, save from his Academy lessons. But you may learn more from Lieutenant Yar. She has been a student of Commander Billings; he supported her and helped her to get accepted to the Academy.”
“Interesting,” Picard looked around, as if realising for the first time his security chief’s absence. “Where is Lieutenant Yar, by the way?”
“In sickbay,” Worf reported. “She’s suffered an injury during our last training session, but she’ll come as soon as Dr Crusher has fused her ribs. She asked me to stand in for her in this meeting.”
In her constant struggle to improve herself and thus fulfil her duties at peak efficiency, Tasha Yar had chosen to train with Worf, from the beginning of their service aboard the Enterprise. Having a sparring partner that much stronger than she was herself could definitely be seen as an advantage; plus, she enjoyed those training sessions greatly. She was a woman who found great delight in strenuous physical activities.
It was unfortunate that she’d had to go to sickbay right now, though. Her presence as the ship’s chief of security - as well as her personal knowledge about Commander Billings - would have come in handy.
Picard suppressed an impatient sigh and nodded. “Well, I’d like her on the hangar deck on time, together with the entire senior staff. Such a celebrity needs to be welcomed properly.”
“On the hangar deck?” Riker repeated, surprised. “Why doesn’t he just beam over?”
Picard gave him a wry look. “According to Captain Hajar, Commander Billings refuses to make use of the transporter… for reasons he doesn’t feel necessary to reveal.”
“There are numerous people with a transporter phobia,” Troi shrugged elegantly. “Even in Starfleet. I know a certain Dr. Pulaski who never uses it, either.”
“Maybe,” Data allowed. “But Commander Billings did use the transporter during his deep space missions without difficulties. It seems strange that now he refuses to do so.”
“He will have his reasons,” Picard said, dismissing the topic as irrelevant. “Very well. It seems that we won’t learn anything either about Commander Billings or about the mission before he arrives. We’ll meet on the hangar deck, as soon as his shuttle docks in. Dismissed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Two hours later the Enterprise reached the rendezvous point on time, as scheduled. Picard was not on the bridge, having Riker occupy the command chair for the time being - something the ambitious first officer greatly appreciated. Data sat at Science Station One, Lieutenant LaForge at Conn and Worf stood at Tactical. The other positions are filled by the usual crewmembers of Alpha Shift. Riker watched the main viewer with interest.
The sight was certainly worth anyone’s attention.
The U.S.S. Washington (NCC - 26214) had beaten them at the rendezvous point - and boy, was she a sight for sore eyes! She was an Ambassador-class heavy cruiser, certainly smaller than the Enterprise but still 526 metres long… not bad for a starship design that was considered aging. Ambassador-class vessels were equipped for science missions as well as for combat, and the U.S.S. Washington, patrolling and explaining the area near the Romulan Neutral Zone for years, had had her fair share from both. She had become something of a legend of her own.
With a daredevil captain, whose fame matched that of the ship. A captain Riker looked forward to meet, if only via the comm system.
“Open hailing frequencies,” he ordered Worf.
“Hailing frequencies opened,” the Klingon replied, his tone showing clearly how much he disliked to be degraded to function as a communications officer. Not that Riker cared. Besides, there had not been such thing as communications officers on a starship for a very long time.
“Washington, this is Commander William T. Riker from the Enterprise. Do you read me?”
The image on the main viewer changed from the gleaming white ship to that of a handsome, dark-haired, dark eyed man in his late forties.
“Clearly and smoothly, Enterprise,” he said with a faint French accent. “I’m Captain Javier Hajar. Are you ready for the transfer?”
Riker glanced at Ensign Mikal Holden, sitting at the Engineering station, and the exotic-looking Daliwakan nodded, without being asked.
“Aye, sir, Shuttle bay Two has been prepared.”
Captain Hajar nodded. “Trés bien. Shuttlecraft is being launched as we speak. Please check back when it arrives. Washington out.”
It didn’t happen often that Riker lost the ability of speech for the moment. This was one of those moments. He was not used to being dismissed without given the chance to say a word. Not even by a living legend like Captain Hajar.
At the moment, however, he couldn’t do anything about it.
He raised his voice, just enough to activate the comm unit in the command chair’s arm. “Riker to Picard.”
“Go ahead,” the captain’s voice answered.”
“Captain, we’ve reached the rendezvous point.”
“Is the Washington already there?”
“Aye, sir. They’ve launched the shuttlecraft less than a minute ago.”
“Very well, Number One. I’m going down to Shuttle Bay Two. Instruct senior staff to join me. Until further notice you have the bridge.”
“Aye, sir,” Riker answered and did as he had been told.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Picard reached Shuttle Bay Two almost at the same time as Dr. Crusher. He raised an eyebrow, seeing Wesley accompanying his mother, but didn’t protest… for now. Data, Worf, Counselor Troi and Chief Engineer Argyle followed soon.
The outer doors of the shuttle bay were open, and the shuttle, held firmly by the obligatory tractor beam, was being pulled in. An officer wearing the black-and-gold uniform of the engineering crew, with an ensign’s pips on his collar, was standing at a control panel next to the door. He attached a second tractor beam, which automatically released the first, stronger one and transferred control to the operator.
This didn’t mean that the pilot of the shuttlecraft couldn’t have landed his or her vehicle safely. Most shuttle pilots could land on a handkerchief if they had to. But using the supporting tractor beams made the landing more secure for the ship, so they always used this procedure, save for the cases of emergency.
Less than a minute later the shuttlecraft settled on the floor safely and the tractor beam disengaged. The hangar doors closed noiselessly.
“Landing sequence complete, the officer on duty reported. ”Shuttle bay is pressurised,” Emergency force fields shut down. You can enter now, Captain.”
“Thank you, Ensign,” Picard gave the shuttlecraft a closer look.
It was a standard Type 6 vehicle: a six-meter-long light, short-range warp shuttle, capable of travelling with warp 2 for thirty-six standard hours. Unlike other crafts of the same type, though, it didn’t have a registration number painted on its outer hull, signalling that it didn’t belong to any particular starship but hat been assigned to a staff officer for his personal use.
In the next moment the back door of the shuttlecraft opened and, after a few seconds, out floated a hoverchair carrying a middle-aged man with grey hair and a rugged face, wearing the black-and-gold working uniform of Starfleet Security. He was followed by a tall, willowy black Vulcan in the same uniform, with a lieutenant’s pips on his collar.
The Vulcan officer appeared calm and inscrutable like an ebony Buddha, only the pointy ears ruined the impression somewhat. Riker eyed him with interest. So, this was Lieutenant Tuvok? Interesting. He’d have expected somebody more heavily built, even for a Vulcan. Security were security, no matter where.
On the other hand, Tasha Yar wasn’t particularly beefy, either.
While Riker was doing his observations, Picard stepped forth, straightening to a proper stance.
“Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Commander Billings. It is an honour for us to have one of the leading officers of Security Academy examining the ship and the crew. I’m sure…”
He couldn’t continue, as the ugly but highly intelligent face of Billings contorted in something that might have been anger... or pain.”
“What is the Klingon doing here?” the commander asked in that subdued voice that told of the irritation of constant suffering.
Picard stiffened and cast a quick sideways look at Worf who obviously had a hard time to restrain himself.
“Lieutenant Worf is my tactical officer and, as you doubtlessly know, Commander, one of the best weapons experts in Starfleet. I count myself lucky for having him in my command staff,” he said evenly. “I must say, though, that I’m surprised by your attitude. I thought that in the recent decades prejudices against Klingons have been cleared out - even in Starfleet’s Security Division.”
“Your opinion in this matter is completely irrelevant, Picard,” Billings interrupted again. “There are bigger things at stake than the configuration of the staff aboard our flagship. At 1600 board time, I’ll inform you about the upcoming mission. I’ll also hand you the list of the officers who will have to leave the Enterprise, effective immediately. Until then, your orders are to change course and head to Starbase 39-Sierra, warp 5.”
The senior officers exchanged grim looks. Starbase 39-Sierra was the Federation base nearest to the Romulan Neutral Zone. Should there be any threat from the other side of the Zone, it needed to be stopped at Starbase 39-Sierra… at the very last. The bad thing was, if the strategic importance of Starbase 39-Sierra was mentioned, it would mean that Outpost #23, the key post of the Federation’s frontal defence, had fallen already due to a Romulan invasion. Which seemed rather unlikely, though, considering that it was the Enterprise that parted ways with the first Romulan Warbird seen in the last fifty years on relatively peaceful terms.
“Counselor,” Picard turned to Troi; guessing around wouldn’t lead anywhere, they would learn early enough what this was all about, “please escort Commander Billings to his quarters. I expect everyone in the observation lounge at 1600. Dismissed,”
~TBC~
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Note: There will be an alternate version of this story, part of my “New Generation” AU, featuring the characters and settings of the “Blood and Ice”-verse. I couldn’t decide which way to write the story, so after years of hesitation, I decided to write both versions.