Introduction
This story came about from a combination of re-reading the first two Honour Harrington novels and the rather excellent Lost Era tale
'Serpents Among the Ruins' by David R. George III, and regaining contact with my good friend Adrian over at
http://www.uss-sheffield.co.uk/, where he writes about the change in attitudes and technology from Kirk-Trek to Picard-Trek.
The former made me want to tell the tale --
any tale -- about a Starfleet ship called
Fearless. Low and behold I remembered that Trek does indeed have its own
Fearless, and she's a ship class I want to tell a story about, with a registry number low enough that I could place her adventures anywhere in the 24th century.
The latter made me want to tell a story around these Interim Years, when the
Fearless would be one of the prime ships of the Star Fleet, one that people would scramble to be noticed to get aboard. At first I thought of a story set after the Tomed Incident and concurrent with the missions of the USS
Sheffield, but with that I still had no clue about what story I wanted to tell.
Then I read
'Serpents Among the Ruins', which describes the Tomed Incident in precise detail, and starts off the book with a sense of foreboding that war with the Romulans had been coming for years.
Suddenly, I had it. I'd write the backstory for this book.
Fearless would deal with the gradual encroachment into ordinary life that an seemingly inevitable conflict would bring. How a conflict could
become "seemingly inevitable" in the first place.
Many thanks to Adrian for suggesting a crossover/joint venture. You’ll find many of his creations in the following stories, such as supply station Aljeterius, Nirophia and the self-named Corridor, and the astropolitical scenery on its far side amongst others. Deftly woven into this tapestry are my own crew for Aljeterius and its revised history.
So, here we go. A voyage into the unknown, in true Kirk style. Let me know if you like it. Have fun with this, because we sure are!
Chapter One
Captain’s Log, stardate 12303.65.
The Fearless has been re-assigned to Sector 16 after the successful completion
of our trouble-shooting mission to Melana III on the Klingon border. Sector 16 is a
previously unimportant region of space first charted in the 2180s and only recently
gaining prominence with the Metar Crisis of the early 2290s. Now, it is the staging
point for a new wave of exploration into the more populated sectors ‘below’ the
Klingon and Romulan Empires.
This date marks the first anniversary of the completion of our shakedown cruise and
I am pleased to note that after almost fifteen months in commission my ship is
responding at 105% efficiency, and my crew has become akin to a well-oiled machine.
The scores of Federation races comprising my crew – many of whom I’ve never
served with before – quickly settled in together and over the intervening year have
built upon that solid foundation to become one of the finest crews I have served with.
Commander Faris has proven to be quite the asset as my XO, displaying an uncanny
ability with people skills; he seems to instinctively know the mood of the crew and has
his fingers on the pulse of the ship’s lounge. Many times over the last year he has
adeptly defused minor incidents that threatened to disrupt ship’s routine had a less
involved XO been unaware of them or dismissed them as ‘outwith the scope of their
duties’.
This has, however, resulted in the man being labelled what the Humans call “a
gossipy old woman”, though fortunately meant in an affectionate manner.
Chief Engineer L’Trell reports no major maintenance needs though, as usual, his wish
list does seem to be as bottomless as the Void itself. He apparently attended the
‘Montgomery Scott School of Tweaking and Jury-rigging’, but this is why the Fearless
has an efficiency rating of 105% and not the Fleet average of 97%.
Lieutenants Gemignani and Xirral both concur that the crew’s mental health are also
above the standard, with the holosimulator, gymnasium, games rooms, and computer
library access usage reflecting only the normal pursuits of a diverse group of over-
achievers; no disquieting trends are evident among the crew’s recreational activities.
Taken as a whole, my ship and her crew stand ready to face whatever the galaxy
decides to send our way.
*****
“Lieutenant Murdoch, a moment of your time,” Commander L’Trell called out from his office in Engineering, sounding distracted.
The slender, strawberry-blonde assistant chief engineer clapped Specialist Aziz on his shoulder and strode over to her boss’ office, wondering what was up.
“Just give me a moment, Steph… finishing something up here…”
“Fair enough, Boss,” she replied from the other side of his desk, and turned to gaze at the contained annihilation that was their warp reactor.
“Ah-HA! Tharrr’s the little hairrrball!” Chief Engineer L’Trell cried triumphantly, trilling his ‘r’s enough to make any Scot feel at home.
Lieutenant Stephanie Murdoch started, surprised despite herself. Swinging back around to face him, she queried, “What little hairball is that, Sir?”
“That damned illegal still we’ve been chasing all over the ship for so long. They set it back up in an area we’d just swept a tenday ago.” He swung his monitor around and pointed at the scan results with a claw. “And there we have them.”
Stephanie took in the details on the screen. All it showed was a red dot on the ship schematics; there was no indication of the search parameters. “Sir, are you sure? I mean, look where it is! They’d have to be completely off their heads to set it up there!”
Korta L’Trell’s gold-flecked amber eyes narrowed as he focussed on the scan display. “Where better to hide something than the last place anyone would look, Lieutenant?” the big Caitian engineer murmured, half admiring, half annoyed. “Yes, it is dangerous, but only if something goes wrong. The way this is apparently set up indicates considerable thought was put into not compromising the safety of the ship, so it’s unlikely the still would cause anything. But if something does go wrong there, they’re not really going to be worrying about getting caught.”
Yeah, ‘cause the ship could disappear in a flash of liberated atoms, Stephanie thought as she appeared to mull it over. “I suppose so, Sir. But what makes you sure it’s there?”
L’Tell was tempted to reply
“Because we’ve already spent a year looking everywhere else for it”, but that wouldn’t have been very conducive to his department’s morale or his own self image. Stifling that thought and the sigh that accompanied it, he told his assistant, “It’s all in the details, Lieutenant. You Humans say God and the Devil are in there, and it is there that our very clever, very sneaky individual slipped up.”
Stephanie’s pheromonal output changed ever so slightly, but Korta was scenting for it and so caught it. Without missing a beat, he told her, “Congratulations, Steph, you hid it well.”
“Tha—Sir?” His second-in-command stumbled over her reply, then realised the jig was up and relaxed. “Awww Hell. When, ah, did ye find oot, Sir?”
Korta cleared his scan results and turned to face her, wagging a long, claw-tipped finger at her. “Never taunt a king in his own realm, Steph. You may have a good laugh tugging his tail, but you need to know just when to let go to prevent him sinking his teeth into you in the end. And big cats have big teeth,” he admonished her, only half playfully, while baring his own fangs.
“With respect, Sir, that’s not an answer,” his assistant replied impudently.
“You are correct, soon-to-be Tech 3rd-class Murdoch!” L’Trell rumbled mightily, scowling at the brazen Scots’ lass. “What I don’t tell you can’t be used against me later. Now! You know that the operation of a ‘hooch still’ is strictly against Regulations and punishable by many, many horrible means at my disposal, and many, many more in the claws of the XO.” He looked at her meaningfully. “That will be decided upon later. For now, I go to claim my prize.”
Damn, Stephanie thought with an internal grimace.
There goes my chance of distracting you and having Norampac break the still down and spirit away the evidence! Ah well, she thought philosophically,
it’s a fair cop, and I did lead him on a merry chase for a year. Or rather, a game of hide and seek. “Come along then, Lieutenant, and stop thinking of scheming your way out of this.”
Stephanie essayed a bright grin. “To the victor go the spoils, Sir. And you won fair and square.”
As they headed to the turbolift, L’Trell queried, “A lesson learned, Mr. Murdoch? Or are you a lost cause?”
“Oh, I learned something, Sir, no mistake there,” Stephanie responded cheerfully.
The turbolift doors closed on her grin and his frown.
*****
“The far aft end of the port
nacelle catwalk?” Commander Faris asked incredulously. “Did I hear you correctly?”
“You heard correctly, Commander,” Security Chief Daquillon confirmed bemusedly for the XO. “I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it for myself, Sir, but there it was, with Chief L’Trell looking like the cat who’d gotten the cream and holding tightly on to his assistant.”
“Lieutenant Murdoch is a most ingenious person,” Khaleel commented in admiring tones. “It is not surprising that Korta wishes to hold onto her services despite her extra-curricular activities. However, disciplinary action will have to be taken. We just cannot have real ‘hooch’ being brewed on the ship!”
“Especially for the newbies and youngsters who have no idea that this isn’t their daddy’s scotch,” Frédéric opined wryly.
Khaleel shot his friend a look. An edge entered his voice as he said, “I hope we’re not taking the ‘my, don’t we admire her for being so clever’ routine too far, Daq. This is a serious breach of Regulations.”
“Oh, but of course,
mon ami,” the Frenchman replied reassuringly. “Miss Murdoch is currently off duty and confined to quarters pending your decision on whether to take this further or not, Sir.”
“What does L’Trell say?”
“Our estimable Chief Engineer thinks that deterrence has not worked before and will not work again so he wants to assign her double shifts for two months to soak up her extra energy. If she’s consumed by her work, she’ll not have any energy for her extra curricular activities. Either that, or she must go to the Captain’s Mast.”
Khaleel mulled this one over. “Hmmm. I’m not sure I agree with L’Trell. Her previous offences were all minor—”
“L’Trell thinks that the leniency we showed her in the past merely encouraged her to ‘greater things’,” Daquillon broke in. “He thinks it’s come down to either working off her excess energy or a formal reprimand. However, two months’ double shifts are more than he’s allowed to hand out so he wants your approval.”
“Bah.” Khaleel exhaled. “And why isn’t he here instead of you? I would rather have heard this directly from him.”
Frédéric grinned as he answered that. “He is ‘reclaiming his territory’ and ‘reinstating his rule’ there.” At Faris’ uncomprehending expression, Frédéric chuckled. “Yes, yes, I had to ask also. He says he has to show his people that
he is in control and doesn’t need to come running to you to prop up his own authority.”
Khaleel nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense, I guess. I don’t think our crew would see him that way, but no one wants to appear ineffectual and having Murdoch – his own second in command – be the culprit and elude him for so long has obviously wounded his pride.”
“He
knew it had to be her running the still – ‘hunter’s instincts’, he says, but just knowing the woman is enough,” Daquillon grinned. “But he had no proof and thus no right to monitor her private activities.”
“And so the Great Illegal Distillery Hunt ends,” Faris commented dryly. “Very well, I’ll authorise the punishment detail but make it clear to Murdoch that this is her last chance. After this, any infractions, no matter how minor, go straight to the captain. And that because of her past history it’ll be formal charges. I’d hate to lose so talented an engineer, but her actions must have consequences that are real to her. If she values her career, she’ll rein in her wild side.”
Daquillon disputed that. “
If she values her career. A talented engineer is not left hanging for long. The freelance, commercial, or smuggling sector will snap up someone with her skills.”
Khaleel sat back and gestured expansively. “We’ll just have to hope that exploring strange new worlds and playing with such wondrous toys as a brand new Excelsior-class starship can offer is enough to keep her interested.”
*****
“Incoming message from Starbase 59, an Admiral Juan Manuel Barragàn for you Captain,” Lieutenant Paochinda announced from the comm. station.
Hiding a sudden burst of unexpected pleasure, Captain Sheltarah zh’Corithan shifted her attention from the PADD in her hands to the front of the bridge and instructed, “On the main viewer please, Anupong.” The sharp, aristocratic features of Rear Admiral Barragàn coalesced on the viewscreen, showing the man behind his desk on Starbase 59.
“Ah, Captain
Tarah, it is good to see you again,” the admiral greeted her warmly.
“It’s been some time.” “Good to see you also, Sir,” the Andorian
zhen returned with equal warmth for her old captain. “I hadn’t realised that you’d been assigned to this sector as well.”
“You know the Starfleet Brass; we go where they tell us,” he commented wryly, sharing an old joke despite that he was now one of “the Brass” himself.
“I got here about a week before you did. A new sector has been opened up so a few old hands get thrown in amongst all the young ‘uns to make sure they don’t get in over their heads.” Tarah felt her face heat slightly even as she grinned; she’d been one of those “young ‘uns” herself when she’d heard the then-Commander Barragàn first use it within earshot of and while referring to then-Lieutenant JG Tarah. “As you say, Sir. To what do I owe the honour?”
“Well, apart from gracing you with my inestimable good looks and raffish charm, I’m here to hand you your first assignment as your new sector commander.” That drew a few rustles from the bridge crew. While several of them were experienced hands, none had served with her at the same time as she’d served with and then under Barragàn. They didn’t know of Tarah’s shared history with him, and quite likely they’d never met such an irreverent flag officer as the irrepressible Argentine. Tarah was glad herself that Juan hadn’t let the Admiralty stultify him. It occurred to her then that it was entirely likely Juan had himself arranged to get this command through a combination of backroom wrangling and the “real” Brass wanting to get him out of their collective hair.
However, if he wasn’t willing to respect decorum and make her blush on the bridge of her own command then turnabout was fair play. Cocking her head off to the left and narrowing her eyes with mischievous enjoyment, she replied, “Well, while you’re not bad-looking for an
aging pink-skin, the…
distance… between us suggests that such charm, raffish though indeed it may be, is wasted on me.
Admiral.”
Someone snickered behind her and it took immense willpower on Tarah’s part not to turn to them. She managed it, though, and smirked at her old captain with a raised eyebrow.
Barragàn’s eyes gleamed with heightened amusement and he grinned.
“I don’t know what you could possibly mean by those comments. And I’m sure your bridge crew doesn’t either.” “Quite. You mentioned something about an assignment for us, Admiral?” Tarah reminded him, getting the conversation back on topic.
“Ahem, yes,” he returned, shooting her a brief look as if to say
“you’re no fun” before changing gears himself.
“Have you heard of the Nirophian Corridor?” “That’s the new route they’ve opened up to the far side of Klingon and Romulan space, Sir. By setting up this patrolled route, the Federation will finally gain a major spacelane to the vicinity of Hydran and Sha’Kurian space.”
Barragàn nodded approvingly.
“That’s right, Captain. It’s still a long route, but it’s better than what we have now for civilian traffic. As such, the Corridor is going to be come a major trade route into the Beta Quadrant, if – if
– we can secure it against belligerence from the Klingons, Romulans, Mira’Kzinti, Lyrans, Orions, and other pirate-types out there. Basically, against all comers.” Juan gave her a wintry smile.
“Which is why we chose you and the Fearless,
Captain.” “Excelsior-class starships never get the easy jobs, Admiral, we all understand that,” she replied with more than a touch of pride.
The
Excelsior herself may have been commissioned 24 years ago but the class hadn’t been in front-line Fleet service for 20 years yet. There were less than 25 of her sister ships in service and such were the dangers of space that a few of them had already come close to destruction. Only the other major powers had comparable designs in service and those too were few and far between, especially after the regional wars that had engulfed space outside of the Federation’s sphere of influence a decade ago. And the minor players on the galactic stage had no hope of equalling the capability of the Federation’s finest.
Which meant assigning one of the few Queens of the Fleet to the Corridor was a message to all, a statement that the Federation saw this venture as a serious one, and one worth protecting.
“Indeed,” Barragàn replied seriously, for once.
“Don’t think that we’re expecting to send you into a war zone or siege situation, Captain. There are no indications of trouble or direct threats in the Corridor or to its expected travellers; but the bigger the pot of honey, the more bears are likely to show up.” Tarah found she liked the admiral’s metaphor. Especially when she considered that honey was guarded by bees, and bees can sting when threatened.
“Can I expect any support, Sir? The Corridor stretches the entire length of the Klingon-Romulan border. Even with our speed, that’s too much territory for one ship to patrol effectively.”
“Full details are in the briefing I’ll be sending you; we’re putting the finishing touches on it now, but I wanted you to get underway as soon as possible,” Barragàn informed her.
“Currently, a few specialist ships are transiting the Corridor to start exploring the new sector opened up to us on the far side. I’ll be assigning you a squadron of cruisers to assist you in your endeavours; it has just been taking a little time to shake loose the people I want for this.” Tarah’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
For a rear admiral that’s a lot
of influence. If my suppositions are correct, he got himself this sector commander’s position, arranged to have me and the Fearless
assigned to the area, and now he’s selecting cruiser captains as well? She knew that the presence of several powerful, capable, and fast starships would be very beneficial to the region’s stability.
Maybe I’m giving him too much credit and it’s just good timing that brings us together. “Understood, Admiral, thank you,” she replied, ending her ruminations.
Barragàn nodded and continued.
“Proceed to supply station Aljetarius, which will be your new home port for the duration of your mission in the Corridor, for some short shore leave for your crew, Captain. This has the likelihood of developing into a long patrol and I want you and your people alert and rested. I’ll be briefing the outpost’s CO, a Commander Skallash, on the situation and that you are the new senior officer for this duty station. Once there, organise a meeting of your staffs and outline a plan of operations.” “Wouldn’t it be better to wait for the other ship captains to arrive before doing that, Sir?” Tarah enquired, mentally suppressing the urge to ironically correct the admiral with
“Don’t you mean ‘Starbase 77’, Sir?” .
“Normally, yes,” Barragàn agreed.
“But it will take time for the other ships to arrive on station from their previous assignments and I don’t want Fearless
standing idly by for a couple of weeks while they all get there.” “Understood, Admiral. I can assume that you have an immediate first mission for us upon our arrival, then?”
“You can so assume, Captain,” Juan replied with another show of his brilliant white teeth, which contrasted sharply with his olive complexion.
“Starfleet Command wants you to pay a diplomatic courtesy call to Nirophia, to let them know which way the wind is now blowing.” Tarah’s long exposure to Humans and their kin still had not revealed to her that particular turn of phrase, but she correctly deduced its meaning from the context it was used in. “Do you want me to impress upon them the benefits of having the Federation around in place of the Klingons?” she asked.
A look of mild distaste flashed over her friend’s face.
“Actually, that is of secondary importance, Captain. The Nirophians are sufficiently lacking in modern infrastructure to make constructing a base in their system of limited value, despite their planet’s strategic location in the Corridor; we could just as easily build it in a neighbouring star system or even deep space. And quite frankly, Captain, their world comes nowhere close to meeting UFP member status.” Tarah looked at him oddly, a little taken aback by her old friend’s attitude.
He shook his head and added,
“Their full details are in the supplementary briefing materials we’ll send you. But your mission there is just to show the flag, be seen, and let them know that they are not alone in this neck of the woods anymore – unless they want to be.” Still puzzled at the admiral’s behaviour, Tarah decided to go through those materials with a molecular sifter for whatever it was that bothered her friend. To the admiral, she merely nodded and acknowledged her orders. “Very well, Admiral. We’ll get under way immediately.”
“Good. Inform me of your arrival at Aljetarius and let me know your operational plan once you’re happy with it. Beyond that, you’re free to be about your duties. Godspeed, Tarah; it was good to see you again.” Juan’s smile was full of friendship and warmth.
“It’ll be just as good to work with you again. Starbase 59, out.” Tarah felt herself respond in kind to the admiral’s bonhomie, but when the viewscreen switched back to its rendition of Sector 16 at warp she let a frown crumple her powder-blue features. “Set course for Aljetarius, Helm, and give me an ETA at warp eight.”
“At warp eight, we will reach the Aljetarius system in approximately seven-point-three-four hours, Captain,” the soft, even voice of Lieutenant T’Serris announced from the Helm.
“Acceptable,” Tarah commented briefly, distracted by her internal musings. “Warp speed, Mr. T’Serris.”
“Acknowledged,” the willowy Vulcan woman replied and turned the great ship towards her new destination with a sure and practiced touch on the controls.
Tarah felt the vibrations in the deck increase in pitch as the massive warp reactor that was the beating heart of her ship cycled up from a leisurely warp five to a more brisk pace. She allowed that sensation to fade from her awareness as she pondered her orders.
Juan, old friend, I know you too well. You find the Nirophians personally objectionable, that much is obvious. But you’re too much of a Starfleet officer to broadcast to my whole bridge crew in the way you did, unless…The more she gnawed at it, the more unsettled she became. It had been many years since the two of them had seen each other but they’d dropped right back into their old way of relating to each other.
And if that is so, his reactions to my Nirophian mission was… low-level anger… at
the Nirophians but on my
behalf… He’s being protective of me, she realised suddenly, unfamiliar with the concept after so long in its absence.
She inwardly cursed and grumbled, her hackles and curiosity raised.
You’d better hurry up with those ‘supplementary briefing materials’, Juan. 
Topic: Fearless: Wide Black Yonder (Read 22171 times)