And what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
And what’ll you do now, my darling young one?

I’m a-goin’ back out ‘fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest dark forest
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty
And the executioner’s face is always well-hidden.’

 

A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall – Bob Dylan (1962)

The Galor – Class Cruiser – “Verran” loomed large in the viewscreen, unlikely ally and omnipresent threat both and not for the last time, Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hyland was given pause to worry if she had done the right thing?

“Heavy Hangs the Crown.” Sam thought, without much comfort.

She was keenly aware of the fragility of the current tenuous alliance with the True Way Gul and the justifiable reputation that Yomat Ghallir had for duplicitous acts of treachery. The plain truth of it was that Sam had been right, without each other’s help – neither ship would survive the Labyrinth long enough to realize whatever goals they had set – if and when they managed to breach the event – horizon of the anomaly and regain a position in “Real – Space.”

“You work with the tools that you are given.” Sam muttered to herself as she sat tiredly in the Captain’s Chair on the Bridge of the USS Savannah.

“Captain?’ Lieutenant T’Vran inclined her head toward her Captain. Sam privately marveled at the Vulcan, she had returned from the away – team mission to the wreck of the USS Subic Bay and had immediately engrossed herself in overseeing the repair and restoration of the Dilithium Fill – Ports and processing assembly. Somehow, T’Vran was not showing any signs of fatigue.

Sam, on the other hand, was physically and mentally exhausted. The aggregate toll of maintaining a positive command presence, strategizing a veritable raft of contingencies required to realize their plan of escape and having to contest her will with that of the True Way renegade Captain, had all taken their toll. Add to that, the likely presence of a yet – to – be identified New Marquis Saboteur onboard and you had a perfect recipe for the malaise Sam now suffered under.

“Nothing Number One.” Sam smiled wanly. “Give me a progress update on the Deuterium Cross – Loading?”

“The field enclosure around the temporary storage is holding and Ensign Carver reports that we will have sufficient reaction – mass to sustain a stable matter/anti-matter ratio within ten minutes Captain.”

Sam nodded.

“OPS, give me a channel to Gul Ghallir.” Samantha ordered Ensign Vikander.

“Channel open Captain.” Neva confirmed and the viewscreen switched from the ever-present threat of the “Verran” to an image of the ever – present threat of her commander.

“Captain Hyland,” Gul Yomat Ghallir greeted with reptilian warmth, “I take it that you have taken your glut of my Deuterium, sufficient to satisfy your greedy ambition?” The True Way leader enquired scathingly.

Sam had an intense dislike for Yomat Ghallir and his caustic barbs, but she put her chagrin aside.

“We are concluding cross – loading operations now Gul Ghallir and will be ready to bring our Warp Reactor back online. We should be able to get underway within the half – hour.” Sam confirmed. “I’m going to have our Tactical Officer acquire the Ghallir with our tractor beam. Please have your own do the same.”

The two vessels would use their twinned tractor – beam emitters to cling to each other like the castaways they were, as they attempted to brave the tempestuous shoals of destruction and debris that choked this conduit in space – time and chart a course for the very eye of the storm.

“Very well but remember our arrangement, Captain.” Gul Ghallir and abruptly cut the comm-channel.

“What a charming man.” Ensign Neva Vikander commented dryly.

“You have no idea OPS.” Sam allowed herself a small smile and continued, “Open me a all hands – hail please.”

“Aye Captain – channel open.” The Lead Operations officer confirmed efficiently.

“Now hear this. This is the Captain.” Sam addressed her crew. “I know that the past few days have been a testing time for each and every one of you. You have been tested under fire and you have survived. You have been exposed to dangers and you have survived. You have been faced with uncertainty and you have endured. I am proud of you all. Now I ask you to join with me and face one more challenge. Shortly we shall get underway, with the True Way cruiser under – tow and in our custody. Our destination is the event horizon of the anomaly. The way will be dangerous, but I am fully confident that we will overcome this last obstacle together. Mens Agitat Molem. Let’s go home. That is all.”

Sam closed her eyes, she had done all that she could, now she had to trust in her plan and her crew.

There was nothing more.

“Number One. You have the bridge.” Sam commanded and rose. “Get us underway when ready and notify me when we are approaching the event horizon. You have the CONN”

Lieutenant T’Vran nodded and assumed her own seat in the Captain’s Chair and confirmed.

“I have the CONN.”

Sam had a short window in which she intended to have a shower and get something to eat – whilst she still could.

“Very good Number One.” She smiled gratefully and left the bridge.

Location: Underspace / USS Savannah / The “O”- Bar / Deck 7

Stardate: 2401.7.14 / 00:35hrs (Shipboard Time)

Security Chief Myron Hayes entered the Seven – Forward space known as the “O-Bar” with one massive hand on the grip of his Hand phaser.

The Bar was near empty at this hour, with only a few stragglers from the last shift, nursing late drinks before heading to their racks for rest. Here and there the Special Services Holograms moved around the space, mostly clearing tables and tending to small chores. A familiar ritual to someone like Myron, who himself had been near – raised in his Uncle’s Bar in New Orleans.

Chief Hayes had reviewed the security footage from when the USS Savannah had been in Spacedock and had confirmed that the only person that had been present in the MMP, when Lieutenant Ithariar Sh’eshikrar’s team had been beaming the compliment of Photon Torpedo’s aboard. One person that could only conceivably be responsible for the attempted act of sabotage that had nearly destroyed not only the New Orleans class Frigate, but half of the vessels surrounding it in the Starbase 72 drydock.

The person that had brough the crew their meal.

Special Services Division crewman Aldus Coe.

Myron caught the attention of the nearest SSH, currently taking the form of an attractive Orion female that the lone customer at the bar seemed to like.

“Have yo’ seen Kennedy or Aldus today?” Myron rumbled to the hologram.

The SSH smiled winningly (as it was programmed to do) and slowly its green skin began to change hue, chameleon – like and take on the coffee – colored skin tone that it’s meta – data told it that Myrin Hayes would find pleasing. The effect was discerningly like seeing a candle – reform itself and it spoke.

“Aldus – not all day, Kennedy’s out back taking inventory I think?” The SSH smiled, “Can I get you a drink sugar?”

“Maybe some other time.” The Chief nodded and headed back beyond the bar.

“Kennedy? Yo’ back here?” Myron rumbled, his hand still on the grip of his hand phaser.

No reply.

The Chief drew his sidearm and adopted a stance best suited for close – quarter battle – weapon close to his chest (lest an assailant manage to strike it down) and ready to fire as he pressed it out in a smooth motion.

Crouching slightly, the Chief Security Officer moved with a surprising grace that belied his hulking frame. He approached the door to the cool store and keyed it open, rounding the corner and covering all possible vectors with practiced order.

There, on the floor, was the unconscious form of Kennedy Zhao.

Myron knelt quickly and felt for a pulse. Unconscious but clearly alive.

The Chief rolled Kennedy over to reveal the form of another person beneath her.

There was no question that this person was obviously dead (the human body was not designed to keep on working with their neck arranged like that) and had been for some time.

“Goddam.” Myron Hayes swore softly as he recognized the frozen form of the person that had (right up until now) been his chief – suspect.

Special Services Division crewman Aldus Coe.

The Chief’s hand flashed to his Commbadge “Chief Hayes to the Brig, give me the status of our Prisoner? Brig? REPORT?!”

Location: Underspace / USS Savannah / Captain’s Personal Quarters / Deck 6

Stardate: 2401.7.14 / 00:35hrs (Shipboard Time)

Sam closed her eyes and let the scalding water bear down on her face, slicking down her long flaxen – hair down her back and willing it to carry away the weight of her day.

It seemed like days since she had last had time for herself, since the USS Savannah had happened upon the false – attack on the SS Devore, come under assault by the True Way Cruiser – “Verran”, suffered an act of sabotage at the hands of an unknown traitor, and forcing Samantha to strike a Faustian-bargain with a sworn enemy.

Samantha Hyland sighed. The shower was great, but it wasn’t magical. She would have to rise to the fore again and lead her crew to safety. Something best done with the aid of a fresh uniform and not naked – she surmised correctly and shut the flow of water off with some small regret.

She quickly dried herself and put on a robe as she moisturized her face and tried not to linger on what her reflection told her about the toll of the past few days and began to towel dry her hair, when the chime sounded from her door.

Sam closed her eyes and reflected how precious time really was.

“Coming!” She called out and exited into her small private sitting room.

The door opened and there stood one of Kennedy Zhao’s Special Services Holograms holding a tray.

“Hello,” Sam smiled with a small frown, “I didn’t order anything?”

The SSH smiled and shrugged weakly as if to say, “What can you do?”

Sam supposed this was Kennedy acting with her customary sense of consummate hospitality. She had been planning on replicating something quick and easy from the replicator – but figured “gift- horses” and ‘mouths’ and gestured absently.

“Well, you’d better come on in.” Sam nodded and turned to re-enter her quarters, gently toweling her hair.

“You can put it down on the….” Sam started to say when she was struck from behind with some force.

As the CO of the USS Savannah went down hard, the SSH threw away the tray that it had used to club the woman with and reached into its clothing.

Stunned, Sam managed to roll over just in time to see the Holographic Matrix struggle to maintain cohesion as the SSH seemed to draw a hand phaser from its clothing – the illusion slipping and revealing the person hidden under the mirage projected by the mobile – emitter.

“You! “Sam gasped in shock as Praetor Irin was revealed to be wearing a SSH Mobile – emitter and took aim squarely at Samantha.

“Time for me to return your ‘Hospitality’ Captain.” The Cardassian prisoner sneered with malice. “Although I can assure you that this weapon is set as far away from ‘stun’ as it can possibly go!”

Praetor Irin was about to depress the firing stud and atomize this helpless fucking bitch, when he was momentarily distracted by something that he thought he saw reflected in the steamy – mirror in the Captain’s bathroom.

The figure of a man, undiscernible apart from two softly – glowing blue crystals where his eyes should be.

A moment of pause was all the Samantha needed and she scissored her legs sideways in a classic Suus Mahna attack and caused the looming True Way Praetor to unbalance – his hand phaser discharging wide of its mark, stabbing a burning hole through the occasional chair just behind her as they both fell into a heap.

Sam’s fist flashed out and connected satisfyingly with Praetor Irin’s nose, causing a hot flush of blood to fall into her face as he struggled above her.

“Gahhhhh!” Irin cursed and his hand happened upon the ornament Sam kept on her low table – a rare fertility icon from Dersauxis IV. Hefting the item, the Praetor brought it smashing down on Sam’s head and the room swam.

Some part of the Starfleet Captain knew that the sensors aboard the USS Savannah would have registered the weapons discharge and already a security detail would be on their way. But as the enraged Cardassian escapee closed his fingers around her throat and began to execrably squeeze – Sam was unsure that they would make it in time.

Fighting to clearly enunciate her words as her hands vied for control with those of Irin, Sam managed to choke out.

“Computer…. Open …..channel to…Verran…”

“Complying.” Chimed the dulcet tones of the Ships Computer. “Channel Open.”

Samantha Hyland’s eyes bulged, and her vision began to dim, when she heard a familiar voice, dripping in scorn – a voice that she never though that she would be glad to hear, in this lifetime or the next.

“Ah! I see that you have met Captain Hyland then, Gomek.” Gul Yomat Ghallir stared back from the viewscreen on the wall of Sam’s personal quarters. “Believe me when I say that the urge to strangle her is the most universal reaction to her company, I will be the first to admit.” Gul Ghallir chuckled, then his tone went instantly cold.

 “But I need her – so kindly put her down right now Preator – that is an order.”

Location: Underspace / USS Savannah / Brig / Deck 5

Stardate: 2401.7.14 / 00:39hrs (Shipboard Time)

Myron Hayes stood in the doorway to the Brig and cursed again.

The two guards he had put in place to watch over the prisoner and ensure his incarceration lay unconscious and the prisoner was in the wind.

A cursory interrogation of security footage from the Brig, over the last few hours, confirmed the worst.

At 21:15hrs, Special Services Division crewman Aldus Coe could be seen entering the Brig and speaking with both Crewman Vance and Crewman Jaelre. At this time the Prisoner could be clearly seen lying asleep on his bunk. Coe served the security detail their meal and left the Brig.

Five minutes later Crewman Vance could be seen holding his stomach and moving to the head – not to return into camera – view. A minute later Crewman Jaelre slumped onto the security console.

Drugged.

Then at 21:25hrs, Aldus Coe re-entered the Brig. After a short pause to confirm both guards were incapacitated – he left a box on the console and departed.

“Goddamn!” Myron rumbled. The timeline didn’t make sense.

How could Aldus Coe be here in the Brig at 21:25hrs, when the frozen corpse in the cold – store in Seven Forward had obviously been dead for hours before that?

Before the Chief had time to start to arrange the pieces of this confounding conundrum, his Comm Badge sprang to life with an alert on the Security Priority Channel.

“PAN! PAN! PAN!” Myron recognized the voice of his Security 2IC – Ensign Vanessa Munroe. “Shots fired. Location Deck 6 – Captains Quarters!”

Myron was already moving along the corridor, his powerful frame pounding towards the nearest bank of Turbolifts and the Deck below.

“Van’! Report! “Myron commanded as he propelled himself through a startled knot of crewman – like the Linebacker had had been back at the Academy. “What are we looking at!”

The voice that replied stopped him short.

It was Lieutenant Commander Hyland.

“Belay that Chief!” Sam countered tiredly, “I have the prisoner under custody in my quarters.”

The Chief’s mind raced, there were too many strands in play, and he seemed to be playing catchup when he should be running with the ball.

“Are you okay Cap’n?” Myron frowned.

“Alive but I’m going to need an ice-bath when this is all over Chief.” Sam replied wryly.

“Our Saboteur released him from thu’ brig, Skipper.” Myron reported.

“That much I have gathered.” Sam replied, “Have you got an ID on the Saboteur, Chief?”

“Thought I did – looked to be Special Services Division crewman Aldus Coe.” Myron winced.

“Looked to be?” Sam responded, confused.

“Prime suspect ‘till I found them all trussed up like Prime – rib in the cold store of Seven Fo’ward Skipper.” The Chief was forced to admit.

“Dammit!” The CO swore vehemently. “The Praetor’s escape was obviously a distraction – but a distraction for what?”

As if in answer, the deck bucked, and Chief Myron Hayes was forced to grab a handrail as the Ship went from Yellow Alert status to Full Red Alert.

Over the comm-channel, Myron heard the Captain bark.

“Captain to the Bridge! Report!”

The Executive Officer’s calm voice came over the channel.

“We have been struck by the debris field Captain. Hull Breaches reported on Decks Three, Nine and Fourteen. Damage assessments underway. It appears that someone has barricaded themselves into Main Defector Control on Deck 16 and has disabled the Navigational deflector.”

“Dammit – engage the secondary deflectors.” Samantha could be heard to order.

“It appears that those systems are also compromised Captain. We are locked out.”

Myron Hayes was already in the Turbolift and ordering the car to Deck 16.

Without either navigational deflector dish operable, the USS Savannah would be torn apart by a veritable “Hard – Rain” of debris as it made its way, at speed, through the shoal of detritus that littered Underspace within the Anomaly. 

Location: Underspace / USS Savannah / Main Deflector Control / Deck 16

Stardate: 2401.7.14 / 00:42hrs (Shipboard Time)

The Special Services Hologram that looked like Aldus Coe smiled as it listened to the futile attempts by security to break open the door to the Main Deflector Control-room.

It had been programmed towards operational flexibility when its New Marquis masters had set its core programming, before secreting its mobile emitter amongst those being transported aboard in the belongings of an unsuspecting Kennedy Zhao.

It impossible for its handlers to anticipate every eventuality that the re-programmed SSH may encounter – so the only hard directive that it was given was to destroy the USS Savannah (and any other Starfleet vessel or asset as collateral targets of opportunity) and its crew in entirety.

The road had been long and hard, the hologram admitted. The crew of the New Orleans class Frigate had proved surprisingly more resourceful and apt to work in cooperation that its tactical evaluations had allowed for. Their relative youth and inexperience had been projected to be a weakness that could be exploited. But no advantage was finite and the SSH was secretly rather pleased with this latest gambit.

As a metal – storm of debris began to slowly tear the USS Savannah apart, the True Way vessel in tow would fall behind into the chaos of the Anomaly and its mission would be complete.

“You’re wasting what little time you have left Chief Hayes!” The hologram shouted as the door glowed with repeated blasts of phasic energy.

The SSH had been most thorough in its preparation of this latest apocalypse. The security field it had raised around the space was impenetrable to transporter beams and cut off all doorways and Jefferies – Tube access to Main Deflector Control. The Hologram had raised this by refracting the Main Deflector dish fields internally – so power could not be cut from outside this room.

There was no point in trying to vent the room into space as the SSH did not need an atmosphere to survive and would remain proofed against the attendant radiations – at least until its task was complete.

The Deflector controls, both main and secondary, were held captive by a duplex encoded encryption that was contained and active in its mobile emitter. Again – with no way for the crew to physically access the device – the SSH could just sit back and enjoy the show as the debris field slowly flensed the USS Savannah apart and the resulting energies of the Labyrinth did the rest.

As the hologram settled in to witness the death of everyone aboard and that of itself, with the sense of a job well done, it became aware of two things.

The noise at the door had ceased. The crew had obviously acknowledged the futility of further action and had resigned to meet their fate. Good for them.

The second was an imperceptible whine that caused the Hologram of Aldus Coe to frown as his own systems told it that the Holographic Emitters in the Main Deflector Control room were coming online.

It tried to shut them down.

It couldn’t.

A voice, strong and sure and couched in a Nipponese accent – called out behind it.

“My name is Master Chief Isagi Saroga.” The Tactical Training Hologram spoke in challenge as it rezzed into being behind the SSH and the projection clicked its neck with an audible pop – the lights from the room gleaming on the bald, bullet – dome of his head.

“They call me ロッド – ‘The Rod’.” The Master Chief nodded with finality.

“Now you will find out why.”