Based On STAR TREK Created by Gene Roddenberry
Original Characters created by Jason Cleaver and Derrick Ferguson
Denys Fotheran wiped away sweat from his face for what must have been the seventh time in the last five minutes. The tropical jungle world of Barricus was notoriously hot, even during its winter season. The temperature had to be at least 90 degrees and the humidity was oppressive. He looked back over his shoulder at his small group that tiredly slogged after him. They’d been on the run from the Jem’Hadar patrol for four hours now. Night was quickly coming on and so far they’d found no place where they could either defend adequately to make a stand or hide and let the patrol go by.
Right behind Fotheran was Walter Lockridge. They’d hit it off right from the first day they’d met at The Academy. Lockridge was brash, arrogant, and full to bursting with manic energy. He was fond of boasting that he’d break the record for youngest captain in the fleet and from the way he breezed through his classes, Fotheran didn’t doubt it.
Behind him was Felicia Goodluck. The slim, classically built young woman was quite simply a genius when it came to communications and languages. Rumor had it she had been tutored for years before she ever set foot in Starfleet Academy by her maternal grandmother who had herself enjoyed an amazing and remarkable Starfleet career. Felicia had astonished even her instructors by proving her claim that she spoke fifteen languages fluently, everything from the ancient Earth language Latin and modern day French and Russian to Klingon and Talaxian.
Ronald Boutin brought up the rear. Boutin was something of a prodigy due to the miracles of Fabrini medical science. Suffering from an extremely rare disease that destroyed his nervous system, he was implanted with a techno-organic seed that literally grew a new nervous system for him, a techno-organic one. This had the effect of not only saving him from a lingering, painful death but also enabled him to access parts of his brain most humans never could. It made Boutin able to act almost like a human computer since he could now process information more quickly than your standard model human ever could.
The four of them had a simple mission: bring a much-needed serum to the Federation colony here on Barricus. Rigellian fever was raging through the eight thousand colonists and without the serum; the entire colony would be wiped out in a matter of days. Things had started to go wrong right from the start: They’d been ambushed by several Jem’Hadar warships and their Intrepid-Class starship; the USS Harley Earle had been literally phasered to splinters. They’d barely made it to a shuttle and then THAT had promptly been photon torpedoed out of the sky. Once on the ground, Jem’Hadar patrols had swiftly beamed down and began hunting them relentlessly.
All in all, Fotheran thought, not exactly what I’d hoped my first command mission would be…why couldn’t I be assigned to deliver this goop to Risa or Cinnabar instead?
The ‘goop’ was slung on his back inside a stasis canister. He’d never let it leave his side since they touched down. It was of paramount importance that it got to the colony. Even at the expense of all their lives.
Boutin collapsed to his knees, sweat pouring off his thin narrow face. His arms and shoulders were visibly trembling. Not that Boutin was a weakling by any means. He’d have never lasted the first eight weeks at Starfleet Academy if he couldn’t keep up. But Fotheran was older, stronger and he had the advantage of having lived on Vulcan for eight years. He was used to harsh conditions and the pace he had been setting would have taxed even the most experienced Marine veteran, let alone three cadets.
“We gotta have a break, Denys,” Lockridge gasped. He was obviously winded as well. Fotheran overlooked his breach of protocol. He was supposed to be addressed as Captain Fotheran, but hell, protocol just didn’t seem very important when disruptor-toting Jem’Hadar with a serious mad on against all humans were hunting you.
Fotheran nodded. “Okay, five minutes. I’m going to scout ahead, make sure we’re okay to go ahead.” The three exhausted cadets dropped to the mossy, moist ground. Felicia turned to ask Fotheran a question and saw that he was already gone. He had faded into the thick jungle as if he’d been born in it and lived there all his life.
“My God,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s human at all. Doesn’t he EVER get tired?”
Boutin pushed himself to a sitting position with his back against the thick bole of a fleshy looking tree. “He spent eight years on Vulcan, remember?”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“The greater gravity of Vulcan is what. Most humans have to wear a personal gravity winder in order to get around on the outside. For Fotheran, it was as if he was wearing a suit of weights every day, all the time. The greater gravity enhanced his muscular strength and endurance.”
“Well, all I know is, he’s wearing us out. By the time we get to the colony, we’ll be no good at all to help anyone.” Felicia snapped. Her uniform was soaked with sweat, her boots caked with mud and some type of oily gray fungus she’d stepped in a pool of some eight miles back and worst of all, she STUNK. She could smell herself and it was driving her right up the turboshaft. She hated to sweat.
“Hey, I’d rather be with Denys than anybody else. You know they knocked a year off his Academy training for Life Experience. They don’t do that for just anybody.” Lockridge argued.
“I’m not saying I don’t want him in charge. I’m just saying that the mission isn’t over yet and we’re not going to be any good to anybody if we’re falling down dead exhausted.”
“Or just plain falling down dead,” Fotheran added, slipping out of the jungle as swiftly and as silently as he’d went in. Felicia grabbed for her phaser.
“Don’t DO that! You trying to get yourself killed?”
Fotheran patted her shoulder and smiled. “Sorry, Felicia. I shouldn’t have spooked you like that. You two, gather round and I’ll lay out the situation.”
Lockridge and Boutin joined Fotheran and Felicia in a huddle as Fotheran quickly sketched a map in the dirt with a long forefinger as he spoke.
“The colony’s only two miles straight ahead. We should easily reach it before nightfall, even if we make a detour. We’re going to swing around to the south and approach it from the marshlands there. Way I figure it, the Jem’Hadar will have already taken the colony, so we have to sneak in and get to the communications center to call for help.”
“But if the Jem’Hadar HAVE taken the colony, the mission’s a wash, isn’t it?” Felicia asked.
“Not necessarily.” Boutin said. “Our mission is to get the serum to the colonists, Jem’Hadar or not.”
“Ron’s right,” Fotheran confirmed. “Okay, say the Jem’Hadar capture or kill three of us. As long as one of us gets through, the mission counts as a win for us.”
Felicia gulped.
“But why the marshlands?” Lockridge wanted to know.
“There’s a whole bunch of hungry beasties that live in those swamps. I’m hoping the Jem’Hadar will think that we’re going to put our time constraints ahead of common sense. Unfortunately for them, they don’t know that I’ve never let common sense get in my way.”
“Ain’t THAT the truth,” Felicia grinned.
“Okay, you’ve had you’re five. Time to-”
The jungle on both sides erupted with the fierce war cries of a dozen Jem’Hadar who leaped like blood-crazed panthers onto the trail and began spraying the four humans with disruptor fire.
Fotheran twisted and spun like a Tyrellian air dancer, his phaser blasts taking down two of the Jem’Hadar. Lockridge got one before being struck himself in the back and the stomach while Boutin was literally covered under the armored forms of his attackers. Felicia grimly fired, taking down one Jem’Hadar before being hit three times.
“I’ve seen enough. Computer, end program.”
The jungle vanished, along with the dozen Jem’Hadar and the familiar black and yellow grid pattern of a holodeck appeared. Combat Mission Simulation Holodeck Four to be exact. One of the largest and most sophisticated of the two dozen CMS Holodeck located at Starfleet Academy.
Master Tactician Kudan Kurojima’s voice echoed hollowly in the now empty holodeck as he said, “Go get cleaned up and I’ll see the four of you individually at 0800 this evening to give you your evaluations.”
“Hold it! Hold it!” Fotheran threw down the canister of ‘goop’ disgustedly. It wasn’t part of the simulation, but a real canister that weighed a good thirty pounds that he’d been lugging around for the past eight hours. It struck with a resounding gong, bounced and rolled to a stop. “We haven’t finished! How are you going to evaluate us on a mission that didn’t come to a resolution!”
“You’re out of line, Mr. Fotheran. The simulation did come a resolution. Your team was killed.”
“I hadn’t even gotten hit yet. I was still in play.”
The unseen Kurojima fell silent for a minute while he digested that. Then his disembodied voice spoke again. “You honestly expect me to believe that you could have escaped from a dozen armed Jem’Hadar by yourself, then evaded the rest of the patrols and gotten to the colony?”
Fotheran picked up the canister and slung it over his shoulder. “Start the damn program again right from where you ended it and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
A new voice cut in, an older voice impatient and indignant. “Watch your attitude, mister. Master Kurojima’s forgotten more about strategy and tactics than you’ll ever learn. If he says it can’t be done—”
“If it can’t be done, then what’s the harm in letting me try, then?”
The older voice audibly sighed. “The simulation is OVER, Mr. Fotheran. And for your insubordination, consider yourself confined to your quarters until further notice.”
Fotheran heaved the canister at where he guessed the hidden observation booth might be and turned and stalked from the holodeck. Lockridge, Felicia and Boutin eyed each other somewhat nervously as they slowly filed out after him.
“Much as I hate to admit it, the son of a bitch has a point: why DID you end the simulation there, Kudan?”
Admiral Cornelius Ybarra, Commandant of Starfleet Academy, watched as the slim Oriental called up the data on the recent simulation. Kudan Kurojima shook his head in admiration.
“Corny, I HAD to end the simulation. I had nothing left to throw at Fotheran. He’s went further with that simulation than any other cadet and he’s beaten the best time of some of the vets around here who have run through it.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Look here. The best time on the Barricus Dilemma for a cadet prior to this was 3 hrs 16 minutes. Hell, Corny, most cadets never even make it off the Harley Earle. Fotheran got his team off the ship, managed to crash land the shuttle and evade the ground patrols. I even programmed a few tactics I save for my buddies who run the program and he still outfoxed his way past ‘em.” Kurojima chuckled. “Fotheran and his team ran the Barricus Dilemma for 8 hrs and 20 minutes. Far as I’m concerned, they passed.”
Ybarra was far from pleased. In fact, he was downright displeased. He never approved of this ‘experiment’ in the first place. He considered it a black day in Academy history when Denys Fotheran had arrived. Never mind that his being assigned had come all the way from Starfleet Command itself. Fotheran was considered too valuable a resource to be wasted in a rehabilitation colony somewhere when his protean talents and skills could be made to serve Starfleet. Favors had been called in. Gifts had been exchanged and despite all his protests, Fotheran had been given over to Ybarra’s charge with one simple order:
Turn a pathok’s ear into a Risian courtesan’s shimmer silk purse.
“I’d really like to turn him loose on Kobayashi Maru right now,” Kurojima chuckled. “I bet he’d really play havoc with that one.”
Ybarra shook his head. “Got no time for that. He had his buddies are going to be shipping out tomorrow on a Training Cruise. I’ll be briefing them tonight. I’d like you there as well.”
Kurojima nodded. “Who’s going to be in command? Me?”
“No. Eve Mallory.”
Kurojima’s eyes opened wider. “I heard she left Starfleet. How’d they get her to come back?”
“Damned if I know. Only thing I can figure is that she was the only one they could get within a parsec of The Grail.”
“They’re using The Grail for a Training Cruise? What genius came up with that idea?”
“Damned if I know. But I’ll tell you this much: I’ve made no secret of the fact I don’t like Fotheran, but I wouldn’t want to see even him serve on The Grail…not even for a Training Cruise.”
Lockridge came out of the sonic shower, looked across the room he shared with Fotheran and saw his roommate idly engaged in the act of throwing small knives into the wall with the seemingly barest flick of his long, limber fingers.
Lockridge sighed. “Man, do you really think it’s a good idea for you to keep on making Ybarra mad?”
Flick. The small blade whizzed and joined its nine brothers in a tight grouping in a makeshift target on the wall.
“Wally, Ybarra’s not going to get away with talking to me like—”
“Like a cadet?” Lockridge grinned. “Hell, I know you’re at least ten years older than me or Ron or a lot of the other cadets here…but by the same token, there’s a lot of other cadets here who are older than you.”
“But they don’t have my background.” Flick. Whiz. Ka-Tunk. “Wally, I spent YEARS on the run from Starfleet. They could not catch me. Bottom line is this: I’m good. I’m damned good. Why? Because my life depended on me being good. Not in some simulation, but for real. I didn’t have the luxury of slipping up in a holodeck simulation because if I did, I’d be dead for real. Ybarra doesn’t have to treat me like some green kid from a backwater planet.”
Lockridge began to get dressed in a fresh uniform. “You can’t tell me that being in the Academy isn’t better than being in a rehab colony or locked up at Northpoint.”
“At least I’d be with my people there.”
Lockridge looked a question.
“Looters. Criminals. Con men. Grifters. Scalawags. Rogues. Smugglers. Whatever you want to call them. At least I understand them.” Flick. Whiz. Ka-Tunk.
Lockridge sealed his uniform shut and walked over to see what Fotheran was using as a target. It was a holoscan of a remarkably beautiful red-haired woman with an engaging smile and wide, sea green eyes. She wore a Starfleet uniform. Fotheran had planted all twelve knives right in her face.
“Who’s this?”
“The person responsible for my being in this nuthouse. Eve Mallory.”
“THE Eve Mallory?” Lockridge asked easily. He’d heard the rumors of course, same as all the other cadets, but nobody had been able to find out what the real story was. Hell, 90% of the cadets ignored and ostracized Fotheran anyway and the 10% who had tried to get the story out of Fotheran had soon learned that Commander Eve Mallory was a subject best left alone. Lockridge was eaten up with curiosity. “So its true, then? She was the one who caught you?”
Fotheran walked across the room and yanked out the knives one by one and began replacing them in hidden sheaths he’s sewn himself into his uniform. Lockridge held his breath. At last…at last…he’d get the REAL story…if he would just be patient…
Fotheran sighed and began. “I was doing some smuggling to this planet that was having a civil war. Mallory was First Officer on The Crazy Horse and—”
=/\=Cadets Fotheran, Lockridge, Goodluck and Boutin report to Admiral Ybarra’s office at once=/\=
Lockridge felt like yanking off his commbadge, throwing it to the ground and stomping it into powder.
Admiral Ybarra watched as the four cadets entered his office and lined up in front of his semi circular desk and they snapped smartly to attention. Lockridge, Boutin and Felicia all had a serious, businesslike expression on their young faces. Fotheran, as usual, had that infuriating condescending small smirk on his lips as if he found all this posturing and protocol to be just too ridiculous to believe. Ybarra had been told just why Fotheran, despite his list of crimes too numerous to mention had been drafted into Starfleet.
Recent years had seen Starfleet’s resources dangerously compromised. The Borg Invasions and The Dominion War had taken a frighteningly high toll on The Federation’s resources. In lives as well as ships and equipment. A man like Denys Fotheran, whose skills had been honed by a life on the razor’s edge, could be a valuable aid in combating those enemies of The Federation who desperately wished to take advantage of the current state of affairs. If he could be rehabilitated into a Starfleet officer, perhaps others living outside the law could be persuaded to join Starfleet as well.
Ybarra understood the situation. He just didn’t like it. If Starfleet was willing to invest the time and expense to rehabilitate and train someone like Fotheran…that could only mean that The Federation’s position was desperate indeed. And that frightened Admiral Ybarra. And he hated to be frightened.
Kurojima, standing just behind Ybarra’s chair cleared his throat slightly and Ybarra snapped out of his musings. “At ease. I’ll make this brief since you four have got packing to do and you’re going to need a full night’s sleep. You’re going on a Training Cruise tomorrow.”
Characteriscally, it was Fotheran who questioned the orders: “We’re not scheduled for a Training Cruise for another three weeks, Admiral. Why the change?”
“You might say it’s to your benefit, Mr. Fotheran. Your sponsor is going to be in command of this cruise. Commander Eve Mallory.”
“You don’t say…” Fotheran murmured.
“I do say. These orders aren’t my idea, but come from higher up and I must admit, I think its only fair. Commander Mallory was the one who sold Starfleet on the idea of using MY Academy to rehabilitate you and I think its only fair that she should get an opportunity to see what kind of felgercarb I’ve been putting up with for almost three years now. Let her deal with you for a while.”
“Okay, that explains why I’m going, but why put them on this cruise?” Fotheran jerked a thumb at the three younger cadets who were watching Fotheran and Ybarra’s verbal sparring with a mixture of envy, admiration and disbelief.
“Because I can’t deny that the four of you make an unusually efficient team. You work well together. Tell them, Master Kurojima.”
Kurojima consulted a Padd as he spoke. “Since the four of you began working together as a unit, you’ve enjoyed an unprecedented 82% success rate in your simulations. There’s never been a team of cadets who have achieved that ranking. I can only conclude that it shows that Mr. Fotheran has imparted some of his experience to you three and it shows to your benefit. It’s obvious that you four work extraordinarily well together. It would be foolish to separate you four now so The Commandant requested that Cadets Boutin, Goodluck and Lockridge be allowed to participate in this Training Cruise and it was approved.”
Ybarra nodded. “Despite what I may think of Mr. Fotheran personally, I can’t deny the fact that he’s shown an aptitude for leadership and his survival skills are remarkable. In addition, I would be worse than a fool to deprive the three of you the chance to train under Commander Mallory. So, you’re going along. Congratulations.”
Fotheran couldn’t help but be pleased to see the delighted grins on the faces of his younger fellow cadets. He had to admit, they were just about the only friends he had made during his time here at Starfleet Academy and having them along would definitely make this trip easier.
Especially since SHE was going to be in command.
“That’s it. Be at Shuttle Bay 18 at 0500 hours tomorrow with full gear. I don’t know how long you’ll be gone.”
“Excuse me, sir?” Lockridge said. “What ship are we being assigned to for this cruise?”
“The Grail, Mr. Lockridge.”
Everybody suddenly fell silent.
“But..” Felicia looked confused. “I heard that The Grail had been dismantled…”
“Well, obviously somebody put it back together, Cadet. Which leads me to believe that this isn’t going to be just another Training Cruise. I want you three to keep your mouths shut and your eyes open and be careful. And you—” Ybarra fixed Fotheran with a stony stare. “I don’t know if you’ve got a hand in this. Maybe you’ve been in contact with your good friend Mallory and this is part of some plot or scheme you’ve both hatched—”
“Now wait just a damned minute—”
“No!” Ybarra roared. “YOU wait! I’m putting you on notice, mister. I’m holding you personally responsible for the safety of these three cadets. You let anything happen to them and you’d better start running for The Neutral Zone because I’m going to be right behind you with everything I’ve got and I won’t stop until I’ve got my hands around your misbegotten neck! Have I made myself clear?”
Fotheran decided that the old guy was seriously upset about this damned Training Cruise and figured that this was not the time to mouth off. He nodded curtly and replied, “Perfectly clear, Commandant.”
“Dismissed.”
The four cadets headed toward the nearest exit to catch a ground car into San Francisco. Lockridge suggested they get a couple of drinks before packing and hitting the sack, but Fotheran declined.
“Why?” Felicia asked. “C’mon, Denys…don’t let the Old Man get you down…he’s just a little overprotective of us..Of all the cadets, really.”
Fotheran again shook his head. “I’ve got just enough time to sneak out of the Academy and go see my wife. Cover for me, willya?”
Ron Boutin sighed. “AGAIN? You sure you want to risk it with Ybarra on the warpath?”
Fotheran smiled that crazy Cheshire Cat grin of his. “What’s he gonna do? Throw me in a rehab colony?” And with a jaunty wave, he was gone.