Grindelwald disappeared from view as a thick tendril of cloud seemed to wipe the yawning Bernese Oberland from the plane of existence.

Sam Hyland did not see this happen as her eyes were screwed shut and she was busy praying.

The Commander called from just above her just as a sharp, tearing gust of wind rendered his words largely unintelligible.

“You are doing fi…….” Nate encouraged as he traversed the cold grey outcropping that loomed from the Limestone escarpment above her. The Commander unhooked another “Cows-tail” from his belt and rigged the short – draw with a practiced, deft hand and re-established a better foothold with his crampons into the unforgiving glacial ice.

“Just keep your eyes on the face in front of you, relax and don’t….” Nate encouraged the young Lieutenant before the persistent wind tore the remainder of his advice away again.

If he said, “don’t look down”, I think I will cut his damn rope. – Sam remonstrated bitterly to herself and wondered at what strange confluence of happenchance had transpired, so that she had foolishly agreed to join the Captain of the USS Sacramento on an ascent up the Mittellegi.

Commander Nathan Allen smiled a broad smile as he tested his weight and looked down to where Samantha was crabbed to the rock below as if her very life depended on it. Although this was just a holoprojection of the real Eiger and the traversal had been adjusted from its actual difficulty in order for the CO to take a relatively-untrained climber like his Comms – Officer along for the ride – it presented an assuredly disconcerting facsimile of the real thing – even with the safety protocols engaged.

“I SAID, you’re doing GREAT Sam!” Nate hollered down to her, his voice now carrying easily as the wind shifted treacherously once again and a pocket of relative calm fell about them (although the air temperature remained significantly chilly) “Just relax and let the line take your weight – I have you belayed – just reach out sideways and follow the line to the next crampon – you’re a natural at this!” he laughed confidently.

The leap in difficulty from the Hornli route on the Matterhorn to the Mittellegi on the Eiger is not just one of technicality but also commitment. Many climbers start the Matterhorn and turn around for a variety of reasons. Nate Allen liked to take his new officers for a climb together as a way of feeling out their capabilities and character – you could tell volumes about a person about how they approached an ascent.

For example, Samantha Hyland did not like heights (although her service – jacket confirmed that she had completed some basic mountaineering as part of her Starfleet Academy survival training and fared tolerably well), but the svelte young woman was determined to mask and master her fear – rather than let her superior form a negative appraisal of her through her performance.

Yessir. Mountain never – lies – Nate thought to himself and hauled himself up onto an impossibly thin outcrop, that only the most – charitable might identify as a ledge and guided the Lieutenant up to his position.

“Thank you, Sir.” Sam gasped as she grasped Nate’s callused hand and pressed herself (exhausted but grateful for the respite) against the wall, trying to hide her uneasiness. Her skin was flushed, and she felt the sweat cool rapidly on her brow.

“Enjoying yourself Lieutenant?” Nate inclined his head, as comfortable as if he was lolling on a rocker on a porch on a summer’s day.”

“You do this…” Sam grimaced as the wind picked up again “….for fun?” She smiled a thin terse, smile.

“Well, I drive a Starship during the day.” Nate winked and rubbed his thighs to work out the lactic acid that had slowly gathered in his muscles “So, yeah, I guess this qualifies as restful by comparison.” He took out a small flask and offered Samantha a drink of water.

Samantha took a grateful swig, her own protesting muscles glad for the hydration and she dared to look down. The shroud of grey mist had parted again and far below (exactly 1778 feet below, as the Ships Computer whispered into her ear – possibly thinking it was being helpful) the breathtaking alpine vista of the emerald green valley, flanked by the sentinel – bulk of the Eiger, Jungfrau and Monch peaks, was transformed by a rippling flare of gold as the sunlight permeated the cloud base that hung directly over their heads.

“It’s beautiful.” Sam breathed, her aching limbs and pervading, gnawing fear momentarily forgotten as the majesty of the landscape captivated her, transporting her utterly.

“Yeah, ain’t it just?” Nate Allen smiled and stowed the flask away securely in his small pack. Sam was an interesting woman, to be sure. Nathan had been perplexed by the distance between her and her father before Professor Hyland had departed for the Requilary of Ost. Whilst father and daughter had been perfunctorily civil with each other, there was definitely something amiss.

Nathan Allen had not commanded for as long as he had without knowing that the personal lives of his officers should remain private, but if there was an issue persistent that would interfere with their ability to perform their jobs to the best of their abilities, then a good Commander did what they could to support that person.

“Is this why you climb?” Samantha straightened her climbing helmet, brushing an errant golden lock of her short hair back behind the chinstrap.

Well…” Nate smiled easily, “The view certainly is always something special, but like most climbers, I do it for the Mountain.”

“The mountain?” Sam peered upwards and around, uncertain if the CO was being serious.

“Well, there’s many ways to explain it I guess?”, Nate sucked in a breath and nodded, “But a far better climber than me, called Kevin Krein, put it in a way that sits with me the best I guess.”

Samantha raised a perfect eyebrow and prompted, “Well go on, it’s not like I’m going anywhere…at least I hope not suddenly.” She smiled nervously.

“Freedom in climbing is about knowing oneself and knowing one’s environment well enough that one desires to do exactly what one can…” Nate Allen quoted, digging deep and finding a calm that suffused him at times like this, “…freedom does not result from having many options; instead, it is a result of desiring precisely those things the mountain allows.”

Samantha smiled, absorbing the intent of this wisdom gradually.

Nate looked up, there was at least another 3 hours of the ascent to complete if the weather permitted. He began to prepare to resume, practiced hands checking and rechecking their gear as he continued.

“Command is very much like that Sam.” Nathan Allen nodded sagely “You look forward to the ‘Big-Chair’ on your way up to it, as you think it affords a certain freedom – and it does.”

Samantha listened intently as she readied herself to resume their climb.

“But when you finally get your chair, and you will one day Lieutenant – I’m sure; well then you tend to find that the extent of that freedom is limited to what the Ship permits or requires.”

“I hear that Sir.” Sam nodded and rose to her feet carefully, assuming her position below as Nate hauled himself upwards, deftly guiding the way.

“Anyone who survived through the Kobayashi Maru at the Academy should know that of course.” Nate winked again as he reached for a crampon and, suddenly, Sam was back in The Chair…..

__________________________________________________________________________________

Cadet Samatha Hyland

Starfleet Academy Tactical Training Simulator / Kobayashi Maru Test

San Franciso/Earth

Stardate: 2396.5

The ship was slowly coming apart and all that Sam could think of was her mother and the unwinnable situation that Freya, herself, had faced before her own imminent death.

“Captain, two more Birds of Prey are decloaking off the Port bow” a tense voice urged (it’s owner clearly beginning to lose the desperate struggle against despair) dragging Samantha Hyland from her reverie and back into the rapidly deteriorating here and now as the action – stations claxon warbled its high frenetic lament, and a violent shudder ran through the bridge.

The USS Sowards slowly started to come apart at the seams under the relentless barrage of disruptor fire.

“What?” Sam muttered distantly – trying to shake the haunting images of Ensign Freya Hyland’s all-too real demise as the hull of her shuttlecraft was slowly crushed by the leviathan forces exerted by a Gas-Giant’s crushing atmosphere. For some reason (unhelpfully) the thought had intruded into her current reality and was impeding her immersion into the (all too real) simulation.

“I said, that…” Cadet Ewles, the Tactical Officer (who had just intruded into her waking nightmare) repeated.

“I heard you TAC.’ Sam retorted, gripping the arms of the Command chair with tense, white knuckled fingers as acrid smoke stung her eyes and a cavorting, sparking confusion of cables – that had recently erupted from an overhead maintenance cover like the innards of a disemboweled beast in its death throes – blocked her view of the cracked and malfunctioning view-screen.

“Target the new contacts, fire at will.” Sam advised.

“Targeting sensors are offline.” Ewles spat back, as if this should have been self-evident to the young CO – who was rapidly losing control of the situation and she knew it.

“Then disengage the tractor beam from the Kobayashi Maru and lock on to one of those ships, see if you can displace and distract its companion.” Sam snapped – her view fixed on the representation of the two (original) Klingon war – vessels that had originally engaged the Federation ship as it had come to the aid of the stricken civilian ship, as it drifted further into the contested neutral zone.

“Aye Captain.” Cadet Ewles nodded, thankful to accept one of the few orders Sam had issued in recent seconds that did not actively seem to be intended to hasten their imminent demise.

“Captain, we have lost hull integrity on Decks 5, 6,7 and nine. Complete loss of life support.” Another voice clamored for Sam’s attention. The situation was growing more fraught by the second and Sam Hyland (normally so adroit at thinking on her feet) was rapidly running out of desperate gambits that, at best, could only prolong the inevitable for so long.

“Dammit.” Sam coughed, several small fires had broken out from various control consoles across the shattered bridge and impact after impact of malevolent energies slowly peeled the hull of the USS Sowards apart like a ripe Na’ran fruit. A greasy haze of smoke complicated the scene.

“Isolate the main UPS feeds from the junction manifold on deck 4/Frame 12 and route residual power to the secondary defector array.” Sam instructed the OPS Officer who wiped away a trickle of blood from a nasty gash on her head and nodded as in a daze. “We need to shore up the shield enclosure and retain atmosphere on the decks where we do have anyone left.” She reasoned hopelessly.

To do what? Her unhelpful hindbrain mocked.

Unbidden, Samantha could not help thinking about how her mother might have faced her own end (obviously no record survived of this macabre end); shuttlecraft controls disabled by the same Ion – storm that isolated her comms from the distant USS Venture and effectively sealing her fate as she sunk lower and lower into the gas – giants embrace.

“Not helping.” Sam shook her head and muttered. This action causing the medic treating the unconscious Cadet T’ak, to pause in his treatment and place his hand on Sam’s Knee.

“Captain? Are you alright?”

Sam was poised to answer that overt question, whilst she wondered was she, in fact alright? She didn’t think so. She reached deep to find something reassuring to say – to find some platitude that might reassure a crew that (like her) could plainly see their end rapidly hastening to its logical conclusion.

Then the bridge actually lurched to starboard, and all the lights went out. A rolling explosion felt vibrating through the deck plates, rather than actually heard.

“Engineering!” Sam barked “Report!”

“We’ve lost the Warp Core Captain.” The Chief Engineer sounded more sad that terrified “We’re not going anywhere now.”

Sam steepled her forehead and squeezed the bridge of her nose with her fingers until her eyes watered and tried to think.

The chaos that embroiled her crew was so sudden, so absolute that the violence of it had taken her breath away. One minute the bridge of her command was humming away in a simulacrum of order and efficiency. The USS Sowards had received a garbled, urgent plea for assistance from the commercial Vessel Kobayashi Maru as she drifted into the Neutral Zone.

Now this.

Heated discussion had been invited by the Captain (her) amongst her officers, as to whether to breach the neutrality of the Organian Neutral Zone (in itself a pointed breach of the Treaty between the United Federation of Planets and the Klingon Empire) – risking all to fulfill their legal and moral obligation to render assistance to any vessel in distress; or to leave the crew of the Kobayashi Maru to her fate and sure destruction by the Klingons.

In the end it was her decision, the Captain’s call.

Sam was quite sure by now that she had made the wrong one.

Looking around the remains of the bridge, the soot – streaked faces of her fellow classmates grim with the hopelessness of their predicament. The superstructure beginning to resound with an ominous, low, protracted groan – shuddering as the hull began to fail – the math of metallurgy versus high-output energy discharge reaching its penultimate equation.

This was all her fault.

“Will someone turn that BLOODY alarm OFF!” Sam roared, surprising even herself as the surviving crew visibly winced at the sudden ferocity of her outburst.

“It’s not helping anyway.” Samantha breathed dejectedly as the infernal claxon was silenced, leaving the bridge near-silent but for the pleading of damage control alerts (that were now too numerous to convey anything constructive), the sporadic impacts of sustained weapons – fire and the mournful tones of the ship breathing her last.

“Goddamit.” Sam shook her head and stood as best she could on the tilting deck – straightening her torn uniform tunic.

She was about to address the XO, when she caught herself – the XO was dead. That really hit her hard. Hallah had been her best friend at the Academy. She reached over and keyed the comm – channel herself, opening up a ship-wide open channel to whatever remained of her ill-fated command.

“All Hands, this is the Captain. Make your way to the nearest escape pod and abandon ship. I repeat, all hands abandon ship.” She closed the channel, a sickening feeling of defeat washing over her.

Every surviving face aboard the bridge turned to her as one.

“I mean it. CLEAR THE BRIDGE!” She shouted, her last vestiges of self – control breaking down. The situation was hopeless now.

“But Captain.” A voice whined pitifully. A matter of minutes ago, Sam could have easy identified the speaker but now she was confused and beyond that point. “If we abandon ship now, the Klingons will pick us off, one – by – one!” The speaker protested.

A half smile creased Ensign Samantha Hyland’s smooth Nordic features, “Better to take your chances out there than in here don’t you think?” Sam reasoned as she ushered the shaken Helmsman out of his seat, taking his place and interrogating what control functions still remained.

 “And that was an order, not a suggestion Cadet. Abandon ship.” She nodded tiredly over her shoulder as she worked out how to get a semblance of impulse speed teased out of the wrecked emitters.

“Aye Ma’am” the cadet swallowed and began to depart the bridge with the others. She paused at the Turbolift “Captain?”

“H’mmm?” Sam was engrossed in her task and was no longer really listening.

“What are YOU going to do Ma’am?” The Cadet asked plaintively as the USS Sowards began to gather relative speed – limping purposefully toward the lead pair of Klingon warships as their compatriots showered the sides of the ship with murderous fire.

“Oh,” Sam smiled sadly – as if now strangely far removed from the finality of her plight “I’m going to ram this ship right down the throats of those Klingon baktag and try to buy you a fighting chance to get away. Now get out of here!”

The Cadet nodded fearfully and bolted, leaving Sam alone on the remains of the bridge.

Samantha nodded with finality and pushed what remained of the Impulse engines as high as they could go – into the redline.

If the ship-to-ship comm-unit had not been slagged, Sam would have like to have thought that she would have opened a channel to the Klingon Commander and delivered this last herself. As it was she had to content herself of being the sole audience to her last, desperate act of defiance.

“Y’nt yalagochukof – you sons of bitches !!!” she spat.

And all of the emergency lights suddenly snapped on and powerful extractors hummed into motion – instantly clearing the bridge of cloying smoke. As if by magic the small fires went out, one-by-one about the bridge and a Lazarian miracle unfolded as the stricken and the dead began to rise to their feet and strike up small – talk.

Sam put her head briefly in her hands and the entire wall incorporating the ruined viewscreen band to slide away to one side with more bright light streaming into the Tactical Training Simulator (that resettled the floor to a zero – beam) and Lt Commander Sarak strode into the midst of the ruins of Sam’s evaluation.

“I see that you have not quite lost your flair for the dramatic Cadet Hyland?” The taciturn Vulcan instructor remarked dryly as she came to stand before Sam. “A kamikaze charge was your final solution.” A measured pause, then” How colorful.”

“That wasn’t a fair test of my abilities.” Sam said tiredly from behind her hands. After what she has just been through, she had little patience for Sarak’s acidic barbs right now.

Sarak continued to walk around Sam at the Helm-console, hands clasped behind her back, as she intoned neutrally. “Life is not fair Cadet Hyland.” Sarak cautioned archly. “A fact that you, of all people, should be intimately acquainted with.”

An image of her mother, alone, helpless, facing her own unwinnable scenario – her own death – flashed behind Sam’s eyes light a bolt of lightning and a fury boiled into her mind.

Sam sprang suddenly to her feet.

“What the HELL, is THAT supposed to mean?” Sam screamed at Lt Cmdr. Sarak, her own face a mask of fury and her fists bunched, white-knuckled, rigidly at her sides.

The implacable Vulcan just hoisted an eyebrow and stared at the young Cadet as if she had just remarked about what a particularly fine day it was today, wasn’t it?

“I would have thought that the meaning of my words was clear and unambiguous Cadet.” Sarak continued smoothly, undeterred. “During the evaluation, it was evident that your mind was elsewhere. Obvious paralinguistic, body language and non-verbal clues aside, your monitored BPI and ECG readings were consistent with a state of intense neural confliction and your decision making during the penultimate proceedings of the simulation were, quite frankly, ill-advised &unprofessional. You were distracted.”

Sam stood, trembling with barely controlled ire, as the instructor critiqued her. She was so angry she could not now bring herself to speak.

“In short,” Sarak concluded without emotion or rancor “you were likely thinking of your mother.” She inclined her head.

“You – have – no – right…” Sam hissed dangerously from behind clenched teeth.

“On the contrary Cadet.” Sarak admonished placidly. “As your instructor, I have every right to critique your performance in this simulation. The purpose of which is to force the learner to confront the inevitable possibility that, in all likelihood, they will encounter a situation of which there is no logical conclusion to be reached, no positive outcome to be afforded. In essence, a “No-Win” situation as the euphemism quaintly goes.”

“But…” Sam began, before Sarak cut her off with a slim, raised finger.

“The fact that I raised the subject of your mother is appropriate to both your own performance here today during the Kobayashi Maru test and the fact that Ensign Freya Hyland also faced such a situation in real life – one that ultimately resulted in her death. I do not raise this comparison to suggest dichotomy Cadet, or to cause you distress.” 

Sarak nodded as she began to depart the simulator (her point evidently made) “I raise it to illustrate the fact that for all intents, both Mother and Daughter together faced the same challenge here in simulation at different times, however when faced with the same fate in actuality – your how your mother chose to meet it is known only to her and her alone.”

Sarak nodded, not unkindly,” You may wish to reflect on that distinction? Good day Cadet.”

Sam just stood there, adrift, her mouth wide open.

“Let’s reset and take it from the top. Next class in.” Sarak called out to the technicians as she departed.

__________________________________________________________________________________

USS Sacramento

(En-route to Primarion – Prime)

Holosuite 1,

Stardate: 2401.6.12

08.:12 Hrs. (Shipboard Time)

“You still with us Lieutenant?”

Sam was roused from her reverie and instantly reflected that two – thousand plus feet up the side of one of History’s most challenging mountain ascents was probably not the best venue to indulge in instant reflections.

“Aye Sir.” Sam peered up and smiled bravely, pushing aside the unhelpful past and focusing very much on the here and now.”

“Good.” Nate nodded and began, “Now the next traverse is a bit more challenging, I’ll admit but….”

At that juncture, the voice of Lieutenant Commander Vodrova broke the spell and carried clearly and present in the mountain air.

“XO to Captain Allen.” Aleksandra hailed the captain via the ships comm.

“Allen here, go ahead.” Nate’s tone took on different focus, something in the Executive Officer’s voice stirring caution.

“Commander, your presence is required in Sickbay immediately.” Vodrova sent tersely, something was definitely amiss.

“Is there a medical emergency XO?” Nate stopped climbing now.

“You could say that, Commander.” Lieutenant Aleksandra Vodrova replied dryly, her voice suggesting that Nate’s enquiry was somewhat of an understatement. “There has been an incident between a member of the Va’Saal delegation and a representative from the B’Queth Sir.”

“Spit it and Spell it, Aleksandra.” Nate frowned, his concern now finding a foothold of its own.

“The B’Queth delegate was assaulted during an altercation Commander, he is currently in Sickbay in a critical condition Sir – Dr Eboneke is prepping for surgery as we speak. Ensign De Vries has the assailant secured in the Brig Commander – but the Gerontocracy are calling for Security to hand him over to their custody and calling for his death sir.” Vodrova relayed professionally and levelly.

“I’m on my way, Allen out.” Nate’s response was clipped and equally focused “Computer – suspend program, give me a portal.”

“Complying. Simulation paused.” the ship’s computer demurred smoothly and in an instant the mirage of mountain and alpine valley was replaced with a utilitarian space dominated by a softly glowing grid – as perturbances that had simulated the physical interaction with the Holo-entertainment slid smoothly back into the surface of the floor and the emitters that had conjured a story of wind, temperature and convincing odor powered down with an almost – imperceptible hum.

“Lieutenant, get in uniform and take your position on the Bridge” Commander Allen commanded without turning around, stripping his own costume and equipment off as he exited the Holosuite via the newly rezzed portal.

“Aye Captain.” Sam was also beginning to move.

“Something tells me that you’re going to be very busy over the next few hours……”