Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Four, Episode Eight - ‘Isolation, Part Two’
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
Last time on Star Trek: Fortitude…
Captain Ewan Llewellyn and his crew are studying a pre-industrial race calling themself the L’Raka by undertaking a duck-blind mission. Keeping themselves hidden to avoid contaminating their culture, the duck-blind involves setting up an observation outpost cloaked by a holographic rockface and the testing of brand-new Starfleet isolation suits that makes the wearer completely invisible. Captain Llewellyn arrives at the observation outpost with Ensign Jason Armstrong, Doctor Katherine Pulaski and Lieutenant Commander Sollik to undertake the first isolation suit test.
While walking around the L’Raka village chosen for their duck-blind mission, Captain Llewellyn discovers his old adversary Naketha, the Romulan Tal Shiar agent, talking openly with the village elder. Through an unfortunate accident, he is exposed and she takes him hostage before rounding up the rest of the away team and mercilessly destroying the hidden observation outpost. This action kills four science officers, but when thrown into captivity with his away team, the Captain vows to mourn them later. Their mission is now to discover why the Romulans are here.
As Fortitude, under the command of Commander Valerie Archer, breaks orbit to investigate the possible detection of a Romulan Warbird in orbit, Llewellyn is challenged to a swordfight by Naketha, who has ingratiated herself as some kind of goddess to the L’Rakan village but, in reality, is after a rich dilithium deposit beneath the surface. Believing that Captain Llewellyn is after the same thing and preparing for a possible incursion into nearby Romulan space, Naketha emerges victorious. Without remorse, he takes a white-hot blade and slices his left arm clean off…
… and now the conclusion.
ACT ONE
“Helm, distance?”
“Ten thousand kilometers ahead,” Arden Vuro reported quickly. “The polaron particles keep phasing in and out of my sensor resolution, but they’re keeping a steady position. I don’t think they know that we’ve detected them.”
“They must have seen us already,” Gabriel Brodie noted all the same, his own tactical sensors tracking the evidence of cloaked Romulan vessels while he worked to pull up every shred of data that he could find about Romulan weapon systems, preparing himself for the battle that he foresaw. “Should I charge phasers?”
“Not yet,” Valerie Archer warned him from his place in the command chair. “Just act like we’re nosing around, nothing aggressive. You’re right, Mister Brodie. They must have seen us already but if we start acting hostile, then they’ll know that we can see them. Arden, get as close as you can without tripping our hand. Standard orbital flight path. Just make sure that you don’t fly into them or anything. I don’t feel like trading paint today.”
“Green wouldn’t go with our own colors,” the Bolian helmsman mused, trying to inject a little humor into a tense situation while trying to avoid becoming bogged down with stress and trepidation. “Standard orbit, aye.”
Fortitude swooped low over the L’Rakan homeworld. This side of the Class-M planet was in darkness as night had befallen the village. Aside from the glowing red and blue of the warp nacelles and the shimmering topaz of the main deflector dish, the Intrepid-class starship remained a shadow. It was nothing compared to the stealth ability of the Romulan Warbird that they were tracking, but it added a sense of danger to the proceedings, a sinister edge to the peaceful ship of exploration. The ten thousand kilometer gap between them began to shrink but Fortitude kept her pace steady.
Someone would have to blink first… and Valerie Archer never blinked.
Any moment now…
“Commander,” Brodie barked,” I have a D’Deridex-class Warbird decloaking ahead!”
“All stop! Charge weapons and lock on target!”
“Answering all stop, ma’am!”
“Phasers and photon torpedoes locked!”
The main viewscreen showed the Warbird emerge from nothingness. It was a beautiful green behemoth with a hawk nose arching forward from a pair of expansive wings, the tips radiating with the power of warp drive. It was almost twice the size of Fortitude, looming over the Starfleet vessel with the menace of an outstretched claw. Although nobody knew as they watched it appear above the L’Rakan homeworld, it was the Chuketh, the secret Tal Shiar Warbird commanded by Naketha. Valerie felt her hands ball up into fists.
“They’re preparing to fire!,” Gabe warned her.
“Brace for impact!”
Two flashes of emerald-colored energy passed between the Warbird’s nose and Fortitude’s shields. The deck below Archer’s feet rocked with both impacts. Wasting no time, she turned towards Tactical.
“Return fire!”
“Initiating phaser spread…”
Beams of crimson energy spewed forth from Fortitude, tearing into the Warbird’s own shield bubble without a single miss. At this range, it was difficult not to score direct hits. Slowly, the Romulan vessel began to peel away, shifting position after the phaser volley caused their defenses to weaken.
Arden kept with them.
Before another attack could be exchanged, the viewscreen showed the verdant hull of the Warbird lose cohesion. They were cloaking again, disappearing from view and forcing their opponent to search for them once more.
“Maintain Red Alert,” Valerie ordered. “They’re still out there.”
“What were they doing over the village?,” Vuro asked nobody in particular.
“Mister Brodie, hail the observation outpost. I want to let the Captain know about this.”
A serious frown came across Gabe’s face. Valerie saw it and frowned herself. “Problem?”
“Commander, I’m not picking up the observation outpost,” the black man reported with grave concern. “There are faint traces of debris in the area, but… damn it, sensors are being reflected from the whole village! I can’t get a lock on anything. I can’t even get a signal through… Damn it!”
“The Romulans must already be down there,” concluded the Commander.
“Jamming us,” Vuro added,” but why?”
“That’s what I intend to find out, Lieutenant!”
* * * *
He was dumped to the floor with little care.
As the Centurions locked the wooden door behind them, Ewan Llewellyn opened his eyes to see his away team surrounding him. He was back inside the hut that kept them restrained as prisoners of Naketha and the villagers that she had somehow managed to persuade into doing her bidding. Fighting the urge to sleep and retreat into a world where nothing would matter… where the pain would go away, Ewan heard gasps of horror.
“Captain,” Doctor Pulaski cried out, rushing forward to cradle him into a seated position and getting help from Ensign Armstrong. “Oh, my God… Captain? Captain!”
Llewellyn was in a terrible state. His usually-tanned complexion was almost pure white with his eyes being bloodshot and weak. Shock was keeping him eternally shaking, vibrating at a rate that made holding him steady a challenge. Sweat covered every inch of his body… or at least, what remained of his body.
Feeling her jaw literally drop, Pulaski extended the Welshman’s left arm and examined the extent of the damage. She had seen some nasty wounds in her time as a physician, but this was something else. Just below Ewan’s elbow, a mutilated stump was all that remained of his forearm. It reeked of burning flesh, wisps of smoke still escaping the charred uniform that surrounded it.
Not quite believing the sight of his Captain brutally amputated like this, Jason thought he was going to vomit.
Pulaski found a positive and shared it with the away team. “Whatever did this must have been super-heated,” she observed. “The wound has been cauterized. You’ve lost some blood but not much. I guess I should be saying that you’re lucky, Captain. Curse that wretched woman!”
Jason overcame his sour stomach long enough to remove his uniform jacket and tear several stripps of black material from the waistband. With a nod of approval from the Doctor, who was seconds away from suggesting the same logical thing, he wrapped them tightly around the stump to protect it. The agony that this caused was enough to star Ewan from his shock-induced stupor. He whimpered, his wide eyes looking helplessly at Pulaski like an injured puppy.
“It’s all right,” she attempted to soothe him, but blatantly lying.
“Naketha… sword… dilithium.”
“Don’t try to speak. We’ll get you out of this, Captain. Don’t worry.”
ACT TWO
Naketha surgeyed the operation with maniacal glee.
There were three of them being erected. The construction team from the Chuketh had worked all through the night. Now, with dawn breaking in less than an hour, the sensor blanket was being reinforced. Three ugly green towers, almost fifteen feet high, surround the village. They would keep the forthcoming mining operation a total secret to any starship in orbit… especially that meddling Fortitude. They would probably come looking for their Captain later today but she would be ready.
Twenty further Centurions had beamed down with the construction team. They lined the streets with disruptor rifles and marched in perfect formation around the central courtyard. The simple pre-industrial village was becoming a fortress.
A Tal Shiar fortress…. How right it was. How wonderful it would be.
Beside her position overlooking the village, footsteps approached her. Turning aside, Naketha laid her emotionless eyes upon the L’Rakan village elder. He wore the same pathetic expression as before, subservient, weak, ignorant… and foolish. Still, she had to entertain him, for want of avoiding a full-scale war.
“Lady Naketha,” he spoke in low, trembling tones.
“What is it?”
“The two children that I mentioned earlier… they have spread their infection.”
“How many more are ill?”
“Now there are five. We have supported you in your quest against the demons, Lady Naketha. I beg of you, please, the help that you offered us… Soon they will start to die and with the harvest closing…”
The Romulan woman rolled her eyes with frustration. “The demons have a skyship,” she revealed in an attempt to strike fear back into the elder’s heart to try and get him to quit begging. “They test the limitations of my powers and I cannot guarantee that they won’t return to your village. Would you rather that I focused my attention on the sick? If the demons return, there will be more than sickness.”
“No, Lady Naketha, I… I apologize…”
“You are a man looking after his people,” she pointed out, building on her ruthless deception even further. “You no longer have the burden of worry. I will take care of your village from now on. Go and give thanks for that.”
“Yes, Lady Naketha…”
He moved away, leaving her alone once more.
The noise of the construction efforts filled her ears. On the horizon, the faint glow of the sun began to show itself.
Naketha’s plans were taking shape.
* * * *
The village elder was filled with doubt.
Returning to the central courtyard, he dodged marching Centurions and felt the growing desire to weep for his people. Of course, they were blinded by the magnificence of the Lady Naketha’s feats and powers. The lightning that she had summoned to destroy the demon structure last night had been an incredibly effective demonstration… but to the wise village elder, she had been wicked and vicious. Such qualities were not divine. They were more aligned with demons.
Rubbing his triangular cranial ridges, he paused across from the small wooden hut that held the so-called demons. The Lady Naketha fought them, speaking about fighting them before and fighting them again. If she was at odds with them, perhaps they would approach things from the opposite angle. Perhaps they would not fill his head with false hope and confusion. Perhaps they could help.
As Village Elder, he had no difficulty in getting past the guards on duty.
Inside the hut, he saw the demon that she had wounded, cradled by two of his kind. He was asleep in the corner, tended to with gentle hands. The female demon seemed to be in charge now. The green-skinned being standing nearby and the young demon had discarded some of their own clothes… to form a bandage?
They were remarkably compassionate for one so supposedly evil. Trying to ignore the sorrow and defeat that filled the atmosphere, the L’Rakan stepped closer to the female and met her gaze.
“I am to fear you,” he began.”
“No,” Katherine Pulaski answered him. “No, you have nothing to fear from us.”
“The Lady Naketha calls you demons. She says you are responsible for our suffering.”
“What suffering?,” Pulaski asked him, carefully placing the restful head of Ewan Llewellyn on the floor and standing to face the village elder with a quizzical frown. “Your village seems to be thriving… or, at least, it did until yesterday.”
“We keep the sick separate from the others. They are in isolation.”
“Sick? You mean some kind of virus?”
“The Lady Naketha appeared, one day after the first victim fell ill. She promised us a cure.”
“Let me guess,” hissed Sollik, joining the conversation that he had been merely observing up until now. “She’s going to cure you once she’s completed her mining operation and stolen all of the dilithium out from underneath your fleet.” The village elder looked baffled at some of his world. “The towers that they’re building, they dig into the ground. She claims that once they’re finished, your village will be cured and she will vanquish us… The demons, correct?”
“Yes,” gasped the village elder. “How did you know?”
“It sounds like Naketha is playing on your deepest fears,” Pulaski concluded.
“The virus is her doing?,” Jason Armstrong asked for clarification. “Scheming, manipulative… It fits her character profile, wouldn’t you say?”
It was all beginning to add up to an atrocious picture. Regardless of Naketha’s paranoia concerning the Starfleet duck-blind mission, what she was subjecting the L’Raka to was downright criminal. While there was no concrete evidence on hand to support their theory, the away team didn’t need it. They had tangled with Naketha before, hearing stories of what the Tal Shiar considered to be viable tactics.
No, this had to be stopped. Before any of the L’Raka died from this illness or before Naketha could achieve her objective. This had to be stopped.
“Will you help us?”
Pulaski drew a sharp intake of breath. The voice that had just asked the question had a Welsh accent. Turning around, she saw Captain Llewellyn leaning awkwardly against the rear wall of the hut. He had awoken and he had been clearly listening to the entire conversation. He still looked worse than death itself with pale skin bathed in sweat. What remained of his left arm was flailing helplessly… but it wasn’t going to impede him. Not today.
The village elder nodded slowly.
“My people are convinced of the Lady Naketha’s powers,” he added with caution. “If anybody is to see you, they will kill you. My influence… I apologize, but I am nothing more than a figurehead to them now.”
“You remind me of somebody that I know,” Ewan growled as he stumbled forward.
“Captain, you are in no shape…,” Pulaski started to object.
“No objections, Doctor. We’re getting out of here.”
ACT THREE
“Demons! Deeeemons!”
It was a young L’Rakan girl who couldn’t be no more than thirteen or fourteen years old.
Before her piercing cry filled the early morning air, the escape attempt had been going rather well. As the village elder had left the wooden hut, Sollik had used his genetic ability to camouflage himself and follow one step behind him. The two L’Rakan guards on duty stood no chance against the Suliban’s pin-sharp reactions.
Soon he was joined by Ewan Llewellyn, Jason Armstrong, and Katherine Pulaski. Leaving the village elder behind to cover their escape, the away team darted from shadow to shadow, corner to corner, and building to building. Upon spotting one of the ominous sensor blanket towers, Sollik made some mental calculations and deduced how far they would have to travel before they could escape the blinding effect and be seen by Fortitude’s artificial, all-seeing eyes.
That was until the girl screamed.
A Centurion came running right around the corner with his disruptor drawn. He was mere steps away from the crouched chief engineer, who instantly lashed out and defeated the hapless Romulan with a single strike. Picking up the disruptor, he turned towards his colleagues.
“We should continue.”
Even in his severely weakened state, Llewellyn nodded in agreement.
More Centurions poured out from various areas of the villages where they had been patrolling. While the main bulk of the force was back at the central courtyard, there were enough of them scattered about to make life difficult for the Starfleet officers. Sollik took the lead, blasting two of the enemy soldiers with the stolen disruptor. It wasn’t long before more green arcs of reddish energy tore past them, but the edge of the village was in sight.
“Not long now,” Jason whispered hopefully, ducking behind a crate.
“Good,” Pulaski grumbled, as she was not one for combat. “This is intolerable!”
Beside them, Ewan collapsed from exhaustion.
More weapons fire screamed over their heads.
The Centurious closed in, and it was more than Sollik could handle.
The situation appeared bleak.
“Listen,” the Suliban chief engineer suddenly paused,” do you hear that?”
“Er… no, I don't,” Jason denied. “Wait… hold on… Yes! It sounds like…”
In a shocking cataclysm of fireworks, one of the Romulan sensor blanket towers unexpectedly exploded. As it thundered into the ground, split into hundreds of tiny pieces, the two remaining towers abruptly joined it. Twisted metal alloys sparked and died as the roaring discord reverberated across the village. Screams could be heard as the noise faded. They were from the L’Rakans who were terrified of the sudden destruction raining down on the area… but they had nothing to fear. It was only Romulan technology that was being targeted and selectively obliterated by the Type-9 Starfleet shuttlecraft soaring overhead.
It was the Domtar.
They were here to rescue them..
“Not a moment too soon,” Pulaski realized, her attention focused on her Captain. The complete lack of a reaction from him was enough to tell the others that something was wrong. Sure enough, his eyes were closed and his mouth was lolling open. She checked his pulse and opened his eyelids to see nothing but white. “He’s going into shock! I need to get him to Sickbay now!”
* * * *
Naketha was distraught. Why was this happening?
The Chuketh was supposed to prevent this! Where were they?!
Curse Starfleet… Curse Fortitude…
Around her, chaos engulfed the village. The three towers had been relentlessly wiped from existence with all of the technology inside of them vaporized. They were nothing more than utterly useless piles of garbage now. The mining operation hadn’t even started now, for Elements’ sake! What kind of glorious victory was this turning out to be? There was nothing to take back to Romulus. No dilithium. No defeated Starfleet officers to accuse of illegality. Nothing at all.
She would get her revenge for this humiliation.
“Naketha to Chuketh,” she screamed into her communicator. “Explain!”
“Apologies, Commander,” the voice of her Subcommander replied. “The Starfleet vessel remained hidden under the polar ice cap, masking their presence from the planet’s magnetic field. They must have launched a shuttlecraft from the same position. Do you wish for us to engage them and send down more Centurions?”
Naketha looked around her at the fires, the chaos and the disarray. There was nothing to be salvaged from this and nothing to be gained anymore.
“No,” she sighed. “Prepare for an emergency beam-out.”
“Understood… standby.”
At least, there was some small consolation to be had from all of this. As the glistening transporter beam enveloped her leather-clad body, she remembered the look of abject terror spread across the face of Ewan Llewellyn as she had amputated his left arm. It was an image that she would cherish… for the day that she had her revenge.
* * * *
First Officer’s Log, Stardate 52448.7;
After rescuing the away team and returning them to the ship, Mister Brodie and I found no trace of Naketha’s Warbird in orbit. Unfortunately, the damage caused to the L’Rakan village, not to mention the injury caused to Captain Llewellyn, won’t be easy to chase away. I am returning one final time to the surface to ensure that no trace of the incident is left behind and to ensure that the L’Rakans know the full story.
It was a big decision to make. Full disclosure to the village elder was certainly not recommended by the Prime Directive. Of course, the Prime Directive failed to offer any assistance in this most unusual case.
The L’Rakans had already been interfered with, albeit in this one small corner of their society. Valerie Archer stood by her decision and seeing the reaction of the village elder for herself, she didn’t regret it for one moment. As they walked and talked, life seemed to be returning to normal for the pre-industrial people. Glimpses of shuttlecraft, or huge technological towers, of hidden bases, and suits that made the wearer invisible… of aliens… It was as if it had never happened. On the whole, they were just thankful that gods and demons weren’t using their village as a battleground anymore.
Only the village elder knew everything.
“Will you ever tell them?,” Valerie asked him.
“Some things are best left to myth,” was the wise reply.
“Gotcha… Just don’t treat your people like fools. There are bound to be those who have the ability to leap beyond their own ignorance. As long as you’re careful with how you tell them, I wouldn’t be so secretive with the truth.”
“It was keeping secrets that started all of this, after all.”
“Once again, you have our deepest apologies.”
Laughter approached them. It was coming from a pair of young children, their cranial ridges barely showing on their smooth foreheads as they ran across the sunny central courtyard towards the village elder with their arms outstretched. Clearly pleased to see them, the old man shared in their smiles and picked one up, the boy, in his arms.
Valerie didn’t need to be told that they were obviously the victims of Naketha’s insidious virus. The cure that she had brought down from Fortitude, moments ago, had clearly worked.
“You,” the village elder said, smiling once more at the Commander,” have nothing to apologize for. I understand your actions.”
“You are most gracious, sir. Thank you.”
“No… thank you.”
Archer turned to leave, heading away from the main populace of the village in order to discreetly beam back to Fortitude. Before she could get out of earshot, there was one last parting comment from the village elder. As she heard it, her heart physically ached, wrought with guilt and sorrow for the man that she loved. It was something that she would have to face as soon as she returned.
“Your captain,” the L’Rakan said. “Wish him well.”
EPILOGUE
He awoke to the lights of Sickbay.
It came back to him in broken, disjointed fragments. His mind was obviously trying to repress the memory.
The first image was of Valerie Archer stepping out of the Shuttlecraft Domtar, the shock on her face conspicuously overt. She had rushed over to him, making no effort to conceal her emotional reaction to seeing her lover in such a state.
He and the image changed. Now it was of another woman with features that sent him into a pit of hatred and loathing.
Naketha…
She was holding something. It was long, silver… and being raised over her head. She was preparing to strike out…
He blinked again. Romulan Centurions rushed towards him, filling his mind’s eye. They were firing wildly at his position, missing with every blast of disruptor energy. Then another frightening image, the image of the duck-blind observation outpost tearing down from the cliff that it had once called home and breaking apart.
Four dead science officers…
Four innocent men and women… just trying to do their jobs… ruthlessly murdered… It assaulted his senses and filled him with anxiety.
Slowly, he heaved his torso upright. He was sitting on a Sickbay biobed, half-naked and covered in scars from the swordfight… the duel with Naketha. He remembered it once more, flashbacks of fragments returning to him. Parry, riposte… None of it had done him any good. He had lost the fight. He had lost his arm.
Almost frightened to look, Ewan Llewellyn turned his head to the left. Several inches below the elbow, the realization set in.
There it was, fused to the skin and bone and clearly incomplete, was a cybernetic appendage. The wrist was a robotic joint and the hand sporting fingers that reminded him of icicles. Long, sharp claws that would happily inhabit any child’s nightmares. Try as he might, he couldn’t even move it. The fingers were unresponsive. Was he even supposed to see this? Was he supposed to be awake?
Rolling to one side, Ewan allowed the tears to flow freely.
What had he become?
The End.