“Captain’s Log, Stardate 78170.9,

 

“In light of every stellar phenomenon across the Typhon Expanse radiating energy at record-breaking levels, the USS Sarek has been enlisted to aid the Zakdorn’s Altaremma Refuge in the protection of non-atmospheric organisms.  To aid us in this mission, the Sarek has been equipped with a mission pod designed for the study of cosmozoans.  Not only do super-charged spatial anomalies pose a navigational hazard for starships, but they also pose a health hazard to space-dwelling organisms, such as gormaganders.

 

“Science Officer T’Kaal has been studying the radical changes in solar wind patterns across the Typhon Expanse and her research has led our crew to the Corycus System, where we have located two gormaganders, feasting on an abundance of alpha particles.  Strike that; I just said there were two gormaganders, but we suspect there may be three.  One of them appears to be pregnant.”

Flavia ir-Llantrisant softened her gaze.  She ignored the sensor readings on her holographic LCARS pane to look through the translucent hologram in search of her colleague, Ketris.  Another five minutes had passed and Ketris still had not returned to her assigned duty station.  Rather, Ketris was gazing through the observation widow as if she were a wide-eyed vas’kalabam, foolishly drawn towards the peril of an oncoming storm rather than running away like any other sensible creature.

Intellectually, Flavia could appreciate the grandeur of the viewport and the illusion of starlight beyond.  The layout of the observation laboratory was far wider than most others compartments aboard the USS Sarek.  The observation window itself spanned the entire width of the cosmozoan mission pod.  As the lab was one of the only spaces within the pod with a breathable atmosphere, the observation window allowed a look into the rest of the mission pod’s cavernous space.  It was designed for the comfort of non-atmospheric beings.  Despite all those caveats, Flavia still required Ketris’ report ten minutes ago.

Although Flavia served as the USS Sarek’s Chief Science Officer –and as the mission commander of the Romulan Free State’s civilian scientists working aboard the Starfleet starship– Flavia recognised the optics of Ketris being her superior in age, wisdom and perhaps even scientific expertise.  On the Starfleet crew manifest, Ketris was listed as a simple botanist.  The scientists among her own crew knew better than that and they expected a certain level of reverence from Flavia.  Further, Flavia could trust they were observing her conduct very closely.

On the darkest of nights, in rooms that Flavia had personally examined for listening equipment, Flavia had heard whispers of Ketris contributing a psychological evaluation into the very words “Free State” and how they would be perceived by Romulans and the galaxy at large.  Others say Ketris had designed the flag of the Free State.  

Because there were half a dozen Starfleet science officers roaming the observation lab among her own people, Flavia tapped a distinctive pattern on the surface of her combadge.  The equipment within the Romulan Free State emblem on her jumpsuit temporarily protected Flavia from the nosy Federation’s universal translator.

“Ketris, dear, you promised me that report ten minutes ago,” Flavia said in the Romulan language that was most common in certain echelons of the Free State.  Her inflection rode a thin line of respectful formality, while teasingly chiding Ketris, the way one might do to a doddering grandmother.

When Ketris looked halfway back, over her shoulder, Flavia could see she was chuckling to herself.  Ketris raised a hand to her chest to tap a similar pattern on her own combadge.

“Have you ever seen anything so laughable?” Ketris asked Flavia in the same Romulan language.  “I was only a child when the Praetor ordered those first birds-of-prey to test the Federation outposts after the humiliating Battle of Cheron.  Humans sounded like such terrifying warriors then, conquering the Vulcans, Andorians, and Tellarites.” –She laughed again– “I wish I had known that Humans had a penchant for turning their warships into stables for lower lifeforms.  Stables for creatures.”

Flavia offered a thin laugh in return.  “Why anybody thought they were capable of evacuating Romulus escapes me…”

Adopting her formal timbre, Flavia quickly returned to speaking in the Federation Standard language: “Is the stable prepared, Ketris?”

Upon reviewing her PADD, Ketris replied, “The holographic environment is engaged.  Between the holograms, tractor beams and forcefield emissions, the gormaganders will be fooled into believing the mission pod’s interior is a safe patch of space.  The bussard ramscoops have collected sufficient alpha particles to attract the gormaganders and sustain their nutritional needs.”  –Ketris tapped a command onto her PADD– “Opening the exterior bay doors now.”

“Attract,” Flavia sarcastically said, switching to her first Romulan language again.  “Do you know what else attracts gormaganders?  Transporter beams.  Much more swiftly too.  How long would Captain Taes have us wait here until we lure the creatures inside?”

Turning to face Flavia, Ketris replied, “I do sometimes wonder what form of alpha particles the United Earth used to lure the Vulcans, Andorians and Tellarites into being consumed by the Federation?”

“–by combining the sensor logs from eleven starships in Task Force 17, I was able to analyse the macroscale changes in solar winds patterns across the Typhon Expanse,” said newly-promoted Lieutenant Junior Grade T’Kaal.  

Standing at the mid-point of the conference table, the science officer swept a hand through the air to change the orientation of the hologram that was projected before her.  In her understated Vulcan way, T’Kaal’s eyes remained locked onto the holographic representation of two gormaganders.  Otherwise, she appeared oblivious to one of the living specimens being clearly visible through the observation lounge’s viewports behind her.

“Based on my modelling,” T’Kaal continued with her explanation, “Seven star systems proved to contain atypical alpha particle levels in quantities great enough to attract any gormagander in the sector.  That was how we located these two gormaganders here, in the Corycus system.”

The longer she listened to T’Kaal’s monotone drudgery, the more bile Yuulik could feel rising in her throat.  Some weeks back, Captain Taes had encouraged Yuulik to showcase more of the talent on the science team, rather than delivering every report for herself.  Listening to T’Kaal drone on about corotating interaction regions, Yuulik thought she saw Doctor Nelli’s eyestalks drooping in lassitude.  She most definitely caught a stifled yawn from security boy Kellin Rayco.  Clearly, Yuulik deduced, Captain Taes’ recommendation had been a mistake and Yuulik couldn’t contain herself any longer from moving the senior staff briefing along.

“Gormaganders are unreasonably food focused for sentient beings,” Yuulik said.  She watched T’Kaal’s face when she did so and the unflappable Vulcan didn’t even look surprised by Yuulik’s interruption for one picosecond.  “Their desire to eat outstrips all other instincts, even self-preservation.”

Adding a brief, if insipid, commentary, Kellin chimed in to say, “Relatable.”

Although Yuulik frowned at Kellin to show her displeasure at being interrupted, she couldn’t even really be mad at him.  His joke appeared to revive Nelli from her reverie and even Taes smiled fondly at him.

“Their numbers have dwindled so low,” Yuulik went on, “gormagander sightings by starships have become exceedingly rare.  Finding a pair of them together is surprising, even more so finding one of them pregnant.  We understand the gormagander hunger for alpha particles can even interfere with their reproductive instincts.”

“That’s less relatable.  For the record.” Kellin added, looking around the table like an only child starving for laughs.  When he didn’t get much of a reception, Kellin cleared his throat and put on his serious security chief facade.  

“Our duty is clear,” Kellin said.  “The Endangered Species Act requires us to transport the gormaganders to a xenologic sanctuary for their own protection.”

Taes nodded gently.  “The Zakdorn have prepared space for these gormaganders at the Altaremma Refuge they operate in the Eleneon Nebula,” she said.  “They can provide them with shelter, nutrition and any medical resources needed until the pregnant gormagander gives birth.”

“Peculiar,” Doctor Nelli interjected.  The vegetal being’s head-shaped bulb swayed from side to side when they spoke up.  “Even on Phylos, the Zakdorn are revered as master strategists,” they said.  “Why would the Federation assign tactical experts to shepherd a sanctuary?”

Yuulik snorted at the question, while Taes took a sip from her tea cup.  All the while, Taes’ warm gaze remained with Nelli.  Taes didn’t spare Yuulik a blink or a glance.

“You answered your own question, doctor,” Taes said kindly.  “What better motivation for strategic expertise than the protection of innocent sentient beings?”

Nodding emphatically, Yuulik commented, “Sage advice as always, captain.”

Unexpectedly, Taes narrowed her eyes on Yuulik.  In Yuulik’s experience, she normally only received such glares from Taes whenever she proved her own intelligence was more superior than Taes’.  Yuulik cleared her throat in response.

“Given the rarity of gormagander sightings, captain,” Yuulik affirmed, “I’d like to request additional time to study their behaviour, as a pair in their natural habitat, before we transport them to the refuge.”

Taes continued to stare at Yuulik silently.  Yuulik became entranced by the flecks of gold in Taes’ dark brown eyes, but the silent expressions hidden in their depths eluded her.  After taking a breath, Yuulik forced a hopeful smile.

In a clipped tone, Taes replied, “I’ll consider your request, lieutenant.”  –Her gaze shifted, looking to the collected senior staff at large– “Dismissed.”

The alert chime from the tactical station sang out a discordant note.  It wasn’t the most common alert in the LCARS database.  Before Kellin recognised it intellectually, he felt a pang of dread in the deep of his abdominal pouch.  Because the USS Sarek rarely ventured more than a few sectors away from Federation space, his tactical sensors were typically clear.  From where he was standing behind the bridge’s security station, Kellin tapped on the urgent pop-ups that layered over his common touchscreen controls.

“Captain,” Kellin said.  His voice croaked, so he cleared his throat and he took a breath.  From where Taes was sitting in the centre chair on the other side of his console, he saw her bald head twitch in his direction.

“Sensors have picked up an unidentified starship approaching at high warp,” Kellin said, affecting his formal timbre.  “I’m detecting no transponder signal or subspace markers.”

Almost imperceptibly, Taes nodded an acknowledgement of Kellin’s report.

“Take us to yellow alert, commander,” Taes requested, sounding unbothered.  “For the sake of our charges.”

As soon as every LCARS station on the bridge became ringed with yellow bands, a starburst-shaped flash appeared through the viewscreen.  It heralded the arrival of the strangely-shaped starship dropping out of warp.  Through the transparent screen, Kellin reckoned the ship’s silhouette was most reminiscent of an ancient Romulan bird-of-prey.  If a Romulan starship was making a surprise visit to the Sarek, Kellin turned to glare at the bridge’s science hub to his left.  He would have expected their Romulan Liaison Officer, Flavia, to offer some small warning, even if only thirty seconds before its arrival.  

However, it was the holographic LCARS pane projected from the science hub that caught Kellin’s eyes instead.  Based on those sensor readings, the unidentified ship was shaped more like a Cardassian Galor-class cruiser.  Kellin dropped his gaze back to his own panel and the tactical analysis showed him what looked most like a modified D’Kora-class marauder than anything else.

“Pakled clumpship!” Kellin declared.

“Red alert,” Taes said with as much urgency as Kellin before her.

“They’re powering up their disruptors, captain,” Kellin said.  He slammed his right palm on the red alert contact, while he fully energised the shields with his left hand.

“Mister Door,” Taes said to the excocomp flight controller, “Until I expressly say otherwise, position our primary hull between the gormaganders and that clumpship, no matter what other orders I give.”

Cellar Door answered, “Aye, Captain,” even as his ministrations on the CONN activated the Sarek’s impulse engines.  The forward motion sent the stars through the viewscreen spiralling.

“Commander Rayco,” Taes said to Kellin in a hiss of an undertone.  “Issue a priority one distress call on all Federation and Romulan frequencies.  We’re not built for combat but I won’t abandon the gormaganders.”

Once an LCARS telltale signalled the distress call was recording, Taes said, “This is Captain Taes of the USS Sarek requesting immediate assistance in the Corycus System of the Typhon Expanse.  We have engaged the Pakleds.”

Kellin had hardly sent the distress signal when he had reason to notify Taes of a new alert on his console:  “We’re being hailed, captain.”

Taes ordered the transmission be projected on screen and a hologram of what Kellin presumed to be the clumpship’s bridge overlayed the wide viewscreen.  The rotund face of the Pakled ship’s commander filled the viewscreen.  Her impressively tufted vertical eyebrows gave her a perpetually surprised expression on her face.  There was no surprise evidenced in her voice when she spoke.  If anything, she had a voice like boiling deuterium.

“Why did you steal my dinner,” the Pakled captain said with no other context or preamble.

Gliding like a sleek noraikghe on the hunt, Taes rose from her chair.  She stood tall on the command platform, her shoulders set, her hands balled in fists by her sides.  Despite her stance, Taes affected a disarmingly coquettish timbre when she spoke.  Diplomacy through kindness and confusion.

Taes responded, “I believe there’s been a miscommunication.  We haven’t even been introduced.  I’m Captain Taes of the Federation starsh–“

The Pakled captain interrupted Taes with a grunt.  “I want my dinner.”

A breath escaped Taes’ lips; it sounded like a stifled laugh.  The absurdity of the request would have amused Kellin if the clumpship wasn’t targeting weapons on the Sarek.

“I would be more than pleased to welcome you to a banquet,” Taes said, “if I can ask–“

“We are strong,” the Pakled interjected.  “We must feast.  If we don’t feast, we fall weak.”

Taes folded her arms behind her back.

“…Feast?” Taes tentatively asked.

From beneath the visual sensors on the clumpship’s bridge, the Pakled captain raised a golden fork beside her face.

“This,” the Pakled said, “is my very favourite fork.  Behold!  I will use it to eat space whale steak!”

To Be Continued in

USS Reliant: Pakleading Hunger

Previously on USS Reliant:

Diplomatic Whales

“Captain’s Log, Stardate 78171.5

 

“Our distress call has been answered by the USS Reliant, a starship with far greater tactical capabilities than our own Sutherland-class research cruiser.  As soon as Captain Walker came to the Sarek’s defence, the Reliant took the brunt of the Pakled clumpship’s electroplasma-dampening weapons and they’ve proven capable of the challenge.  Reliant has lured the clumpship into the Corycus System’s asteroid belt.  This selfless diversion has empowered my crew to shift their focus to system repairs and protection of the gormaganders being hunted by the Pakleds.”

A cacophony of warning alarms and raised voices echoed throughout the main bridge of the USS Sarek.  Each huddle of conversation was more urgent than the next: evasive maneuvers, creative tactical strategies, repairs to the shields, power generation by the warp core failing.  None was more important than another.  And yet when Security Chief Kellin Rayco spoke up from the tactical station, everyone hushed for thirty seconds.  Everyone listened.

“The clumpship doesn’t have the maneuverability to maintain its chase of Reliant through the asteroid belt,” Kellin said.  The modulation in his voice betrayed what sounded like indecision between relief and concern by his own tactical assessment.  “The clumpship has taken hull damage and it’s turning back.  The Pakleds are reversing course to our position!”

A heartbeat later, every huddle of officers around the bridge resumed their tactical debates at a fever pitch.  The lilt of distress in their voices was even higher than before.

To Commander Tynleigh Ache, those bleating voices resonated in her hairless skull with all the composition of a symphony.  As an Osnullus, with her six eyes, ear canals and facial tentacles, she managed to devote fractions of her attention to monitor every escalating calamity around her.  Not even two months ago, Ache’s only priority would have been the shields and the phasers as chief security officer of the USS Olympic.  On this day, she had to prove herself.  She understood the time had come to prove why she had been Taes’ choice to replace Commander Elbon as the Sarek’s executive officer.

Given her career spent standing behind tactical consoles, Ache had found it impossible, literally impossible to remain seated in her command chair during battle.  Instead, Ache lurked over the flight control station.  Cellar Door, the exocomp ensign, maneuvered over the wide console on anti-gravs with all the finesse Ache expected to see in his piloting of the Sarek herself.

“Do you have it, ensign?  The flight vector?” Ache stridently asked.  Even though she deferred to Cellar Door’s response, two of Ache’s eyes meticulously watched every command he entered in the LCARS.  Impatiently, Ache explained, “While our shields are lowered for repairs, I want them at a relative bearing of zero mark one-eighty.”

Projecting from his audio speakers, Cellar Door’s voice expanded with pride when he said, “Initializing maneuvering thrusters!”

“Reverse angle,” Ache requested.  

She tilted her head back, turning most of her eyes on the viewscreen.  Projected over half of the screen, a visual sensor feed from the aft of the mission pod caught sight of the two gormaganders.  As Cellar Door rotated the Sarek’s relative bearing, the gormaganders loomed central in the holographic image.

Ache lowered her voice as if she might, somehow, disturb the gormaganders.

“Now,” Ache said, “reverse thrusters.”

Tapping at the flight controls with his LCARS stylus, Cellar Door let out an exasperated whistle.  After he tapped the controls twice more, he whispered back, “Engaging.”

Simultaneous to Ache’s coaching of Cellar Door, Ache had been monitoring the conversation bubbling around the port side science hub.  A disquiet in Captain Taes had, evidently, motivated her to vacate her command chair too.  Leaning in close to the gathering of science officers, Taes had braced her palms against the U-shaped work table.  Taes looked like she naturally fit in.  Back on the USS Gheryzan, the security department had often, in hushed whispers, said that a flock of teal shirts was to be called: a trembling of science officers.

“We can modify the dorsal phaser array to–” Lieutenant Yuulik was proposing with all the assuredness as if her word was creed.

“No, no, the calibration will take too long,” Science Chief Flavia interjected.  “It’s the deflector dish.  This is why we came here in the first place.  The magnetic instability in the Corycus star intensified solar winds.  Only the deflector dish is sufficiently adroit–“

“Your intelligence on Sutherland-class starships may be… incomplete, doctor,” Taes remarked to her science chief, who was a representative of the Romulan Free State rather than Starfleet.  Taes explained, “Each tractor emitter consists of four subspace field amplifiers.”

As a Romulan, Flavia’s facial expressions were always guarded, always performative.  However, even from the sunken flight control well, Ache could see a strange delight emerge from behind Flavia’s eyes.

“A tractor emitter, huh?” Flavia intoned.

Taes nodded, smiling back at her.  “Fewer calibration than you’d expect.”

“Captain!” Commander Ache shouted out.  Because the physiognomy of her six-lobed head had no mouth, the sound came from her nostrils and the mouths in her fingers.  Compared to the other humanoids among the bridge crew, only her own voice resounded with the consonate beauty of a chorus.

“We have secured the gormaganders in our mission pod,” Ache reported.

Taes boldly announced, “Excellent flying, Mister Door!”

The visual sensor video of the gormaganders, floating inside the mission pod, swiftly flashed out and a holographic magnification frame zoomed in to take its place on the viewscreen.  At extreme sensor magnification, the erratic flight of the Pakled clumpship could be seen dodging between the thicket of asteroids and fragments.  Unlike Cellar Door’s surgical manipulations of the CONN, the pilot of the clumpship may as well have been flying while inebriated for all the skill they were demonstrating.  

“The Pakleds have changed course again,” Kellin advised, frowning at his readouts from the tactical scanners.  “The Reliant is giving chase.”

Ache could hear Chief Engineer Nune wheezing as soon as the aft turbolift doors whooshed open.  From his heavy breathing, it was evident how taxing the warp core repairs were proving to be in the engine room.  As much as she sympathized with his condition, Ache couldn’t afford mercy.  With the lives of the crew and the gormaganders under threat, the crew couldn’t afford any from her.  Nune wasn’t even halfway to the main engineering station when Ache spun on him.

“Where’s my warp speed, lieutenant?” she demanded.

Nune shook his head.  To his credit, the fervor in Ache’s demeanour caused no change in his posture or bearing.  His response was reserved but confident.

“I can give you full impulse, commander,” Nune replied. “I can also give you an intact starship.  We’ve sufficiently throttled back the dysfunction cascade to avoid a warp core breach.”

“The Reliant is sacrificing herself for us,” Ache sternly reminded him.  “For us!  We must escape now or their sacrifice is for naught.”

Sliding himself into the seated engineering station, Nune tersely replied, “We’ve initiated a cold start of the saucer section’s warp core.  If we separate the saucer–“

“Lieutenant, the gormaganders are secured in the mission pod on our secondary hull.  We’re not leaving them behind.” Taes said.  Crossing the bridge swiftly, Taes came to stand beside Ache at the base of the command platform.

For all Ache’s bluster and shouting to coordinate the senior staff’s strategies, Taes needed none of that.  Ache could plainly see Taes exuded a captivating magnetism in her stillness.  The bridge crew were naturally drawn to her, even when she spoke softly or shared an incomplete thought.  Aboard the Sarek, Taes was like a sun and the bridge crew were her orbiting planets.  Just like the Corycus star, there was something else happening beneath the steady surface of Captain Taes.

“Commander Rayco, engage the metaphysic shields.  Mister Door, plot a course into the corona of Coycus,” Taes ordered.

“Let’s weaponize the sun!”

To Be Continued

in USS Reliant: Feeding off a Pakled