Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Four, Episode Two - “Hijack”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
It was nearly the end of another day.
As the powerful light of the Santragan sun tucked itself away behind the second planet that it continually nourished, Starbase 499 entered the night shift. Across the enormous superstructure, pinpricks of artificial light died away, fading in the shadow cast across the hull.
At work terminals on almost every deck, systems were being powered down. Tired officers and enlisted crew members stretched and yawns, stepping aside for their night shift replacements. As usual, they were annoyingly alert and refreshed. A few stories were swapped, a few nods in the direction of things to keep an eye on but there was nothing out of the ordinary today… which made for a nice change.
Floating peacefully alongside the massive outpost, the Intrepid-class starship USS Fortitude, NCC-76240, did the same. Despite the bleak ice of space, the dimming lights and the mechanical sigh of the ship seemed almost contented.
Jason Armstrong would be serving as this evening’s Bridge Watch Officer. Command was handed over with nothing to report at nineteen-hundred hours as a satisfied and unusually placid Ewan Llewellyn walked towards the turbolift. It had been a nice, slow day, and a nice end to a slow week. They had needed it and so had he. There was much to come to terms with since recent events had shaken up the very fabric of the Federation’s presence in this remote corner of the Beta Quadrant.
The Captain thought to himself that he would grab some dinner before heading to the holodeck with Valerie Archer. She had won the battle this past afternoon and after chipping away at his resolve, she had succeeded in getting him to play a nine-hole round of golf with her. The only reservation left hanging in Ewan’s head had him worried.
Was this a date?
It didn’t matter. Regardless of that question to himself, he was looking forward to it.
Smiling, he ran a hand through his dark hair and let out a deep sigh.
It was nearly the end of another day.
Nevertheless, across from Fortitude on Starbase 499, a pair of humanoid hands worked frantically at a small console with obvious sinister intent. They would soon endure that the day would still hold a surprise for the Starfleet officers of the Santrag system.
ACT ONE
“Hole Three: completed in three shots. Score: par.”
An appreciative grin spread across the beautiful and sharp features of Valerie Archer as she heard the computer automatically confirm her achievement. Slinging her putter confidently over her shoulder, the First Officer turned her attention to her golfing partner for the evening.
Despite the aching natural beauty of his holographically simulated surroundings, Ewan Llewellyn still managed to wear a scowl. It was a simple putt and the golf ball at his feet wasn’t doing what he wanted it to do.
“Well done, Valerie,” he still managed to growl as he prepared to take his own shot, lining up from the edge of the putting green. “That’s three to my… what am I even on? Ten or something, right?”
“Nothing so dramatic, Ewan,” Valerie chuckled, flicking her cascading blonde hair away from her polo shirt as she approached the Captain slowly. “You’re on seven, which isn’t all that bad. I mean, that dogleg back there was tricky…”
“I can comfort my own ego later, thank you.”
“I’m sorry. Take your time.”
Ewan did, taking a deep breath as he steadied his locked elbows. The enjoyment of the evening was coming from the company and the vista, not the activity itself. Here stood a man who had strived to impress a girl at Starfleet Academy by succeeding at self-defense and being all manly and skilled. And now here he stood again, faced with a woman that he loved and a sport that he would rather not undertake.
The major difference was clear.
At the Academy, he had managed to do well in his self-defense class. Today, on the golf course, he was doing anything but well. Feeling his forehead crease evermore, he attempted to putt.
It missed, predictably, by a good two meters.
“Oh, bad luck.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it, Valerie.”
“You know what they say,” Valerie teased him, her wicked sense of humor breaking her otherwise compassionate and understanding exterior. “Ninth shot’s the charm.”
“Actually,” the Welshman retorted with a cocked eyebrow,” I’ve never heard that one.”
“You have now. Go on, and knock it in. I don’t mind…”
The distance between Hole Three and Hole Four on this particular course was a short stroll along the bank of a wide crystal lake. Out of uniform, with the orange sunlight warming their backs and two holographic caddies keeping a respectful distance, Ewan and Valerie slowly meandered so as to enjoy the break in the game.
Waist-high grasses and reeds intermixed to create a miniature jungle to wade through, an obstacle of no actual obstructive properties. As they walked, the two officers found themselves appreciating the silence. There was no need for words. A day running a starship was filled with enough of those.
Carefully, without much conscious thought, Ewan felt himself close the short gap between his right arm and Valerie’s left arm. It was an awfully schoolboy thing to wish for, to hold her hand, but he knew that it was what he wanted. There had been enough hints for him to deduce the same of her.
Funny… He had always heard that love was a tricky business.
This evening, it seemed perfectly natural and devilishly simple.
“Bridge to Captain Llewellyn!”
Damn it. There was always something, wasn’t there?
“Go ahead, Jason,” Ewan replied, ignoring Valerie’s crestfallen expression.
“Captain, we’re getting an emergency alert from Starbase 499. With all due respect, sir, I think you had better get up here… quickly.”
* * * *
Cramped inside a Jefferies Tube junction, Station Master Erica Martinez was blissfully unaware of the emergency alert issued from her own starbase. The stunning Latina woman had been trying, for the last hour, to repair a broken EPS relay deep within the bowels of the Steamrunner. As the ranking officer responsible for all of the starships permanently anchored to Starbase 499, she often found herself taking on such responsibilities personally. It kept her from becoming one of those boring base commanders that one heard about so much about. With a staff of thousands under her command, she could easily issue orders from a comfortable chair and not move around all day. How boring that would be, and so here she was, lying on one side, a bulkhead inches from her dark hair.
Besides, she thought to herself, with Rear Admiral Blackmore in a coma, all of her non-busy moments were racked with worry. At least this kept her distracted.
From between her polished boots came a cry of anguish. Reacting with a smile instead of shock, Erica parted her feet to see Lieutenant Commander Gabriel Brodie a few meters further down the Jefferies Tube. He was also fighting with an unruly systems error, although judging from his outburst, he was having less luck.
“Problem, Gabe?”
“Just the latest in a long line,” the Fortitude’s tactical officer grumbled, twisting his folded arms and legs in a new direction as he attempted to get at something deeper inside of the Steamrunner’s innards. “Why does Starfleet design its ships with such crucial systems tucked away in the worst places?”
“You tell me,” Erica chuckled. “I brought you over here because you know your old command the best, save for Captain Llewellyn, of course, and digging around in a Jefferies Tube is hardly the work of a Captain. But if you’re having trouble, I could always call for Sollik. I’m sure his flexible arms could --”
“I wasn’t complaining," Brodie protested quickly.
“It sounds like it from where I am.”
“I’m perfectly capable, Erica. Thank you.”
Dropping her own tools and sliding down the length of her workspace towards her colleague, the Station Master decided that it was time for a break. They were both glistening with a fine layer of sweat that they were both reaching the point where a nice stretch and a cup of something hot would do them both a world of good.”
“Come on, Mister Brodie,” she suggested. “Break time just kicked in.”
Together they emerged from the Jefferies Tube and let out short, sympathetic groans of relief. Muscles flexed under their uniforms, gray shoulders writhing and black torsos rotating as several slight clicks were heard.
Erica recovered first, brushing her hair away from her smooth features as she approached a replicator and ordered two drinks. Behind her, Brodie was massaging his aching arm. He winced as he worked it, feeling it cry out in protest as it remembered the loving care that was usually placed upon it at the gym and longed to never return to the cramped conditions that it had just survived.
When Erica returned with the drinks, his mind was elsewhere.
“What’s up?,” she asked innocently.
“Erica,” the black man mumbled,” look out the window.”
She looked outside, her eyes following his. It took a moment for her to realize what was wrong with the stars outside the ship.
“Where’s Starbase 499?”
ACT TWO
Captain’s Log, Stardate 51486.3;
For some unknown reason, the Steamrunner forced her way out of Starbase 499’s docking bay and went to warp, just under thirty minutes ago, and headed into unexplored space. I’ve ordered a pursuit course. All signs point to a hijacking by the violent severing of her umbilical cords, and the deserted nature of the ship, thanks to the time of day. I just hope that we can close the distance and reason with whoever has control of one of the deadliest starships in the region.
“What do you mean that we have people aboard?,” Ewan asked. “I thought you said that the ship was shut down for the night. Who's over there?”
“Our very own Gabriel Brodie,” Lieutenant Commander Sollik reported, standing in the middle of Fortitude’s Bridge as the Intrepid-class starship blasted through space at maximum warp. “He came by Engineering, just before my shift ended. I gave him some tools that he wanted to borrow. Apparently, Station Master Martiez called him and said that there was a problem that needed fixing aboard the Steamrunner. Given his experience with the ship --”
“Okay, I get the picture,” the Captain interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “So what? He’s alone over there? With God knows who?”
“Brodie’s a fighter, Captain,” Valerie Archer pointed out from her seat to Ewan’s left. “If he is aware of the situation, you can bet that he’s already working on a way to regain control of the ship. Either that or… well… if he’s the only person that we know to be over there, then it’s not entirely impossible that he’s stolen the Steamrunner.”
“No,” Ewan immediately snapped,” that’s out of the question.”
“It’s just a thought,” Valerie emphasized with him. “I don’t believe it for a second, but the facts are the facts.”
“Gabriel Brodie is an honorable man. He may be a little brash, a little too eager to shoot first and ask questions later, but his loyalty to Starfleet is both powerful and enduring. He would never do anything to damage or jeopardize the Federation. That will be the end of it. I won’t hear any more on that subject.”
Any other officer would have recoiled at such a blunt dismissal but not Valerie Archer. She understood her Captain, more so than anybody else aboard Fortitude. Sollik and the other senior staff officers present all felt a pang of sympathy for the First Officer’s blow, not recognizing the bond between her and Ewan Llewellyn.
As the Suliban chief engineer retreated to the engineering console on the starboard side of the Bridge, Lieutenant Arden Vuro spun his chair away from the helm to deliver a status report. “Speed is holding at Warp Nine-point-nine,” stated the Bolian.
“Jason,” Ewan called out,” where are they?”
“Dead ahead, Captain,” Ensign Jason Armstrong confirmed, his gaze locked firmly on the sensor display before him. “They’re just touching the edge of our sensor range. If they hadn’t gotten the drop on us back at Starbase 499…”
“Let’s just focus on the situation as it stands,” Commander Archer suggested wisely.
“Yes, ma’am,” he acknowledged. After a pause, the young operations officer had more to report. “I’m getting a signal from 499. They confirm that Station Master Erica Martinez logged herself and Commander Brodie aboard the Steamrunner to undertake maintenance at nineteen-thirty hours this evening. They never left, Captain, so that means that they’re both aboard!”
Llewellyn felt his eyes narrow.
The stakes had just doubled.
* * * *
“Computer,” Erica whispered,” where are we?”
“Ship’s status is on a heading of zero-four-one, mark two-eight, at a speed of Warp Seven.”
Gabriel Brodie sighed as he cocked his head towards the Latina Station Master. He had wasted little time in securing a phaser from a nearby weapons locker since the Steamrunner was covered in them being the type of ship that it was. He also made sure that the cabin that they were standing in now was properly locked.
“Why are you whispering?,” he asked, his arms folded over his chest.
“Isn’t it the done thing in such situations?”
“Not unless you’re standing in the same room as your hijackers. We’re going out into deep space and whoever has control of Steamrunner is making a break for it. It’s no doubt that we’re being chased, right?”
“Probably,” Martinez had to admit, nodding.
“So the question that you have to answer is a simple one. Do we sit tight and wait for rescue? Or do we take action and try to retake the ship? I know what answer I’d choose but we’re in this together… so what will it be?”
Erica thought for a moment before turning away from her colleague. “Computer, internal sensors,” she asked, louder this time. “How many non-Starfleet personnel are aboard at this precise moment?”
“There are eight lifeforms aboard.”
“Where are those eight lifeforms?”
“Five are on the Main Bridge. Three are in Main Engineering.”
Brodie pulled himself away from the bulkhead that he had been leaning against. In a flash, he was armed with a phaser tightly in his grip. Erica looked at the tall, imposing black man and wondered if eight-versus Brodie was a fair fight.
Probably not.
There would probably have to be twelve hijackers, at least, to make it a fair fight.
Picking up her own phaser, she acknowledged that the idea of fighting for the control of Steamrunner was more appealing than simply sitting by and waiting for a rescue that might never arrive or arrive and be defeated. After all, this vessel was designed for combat.
“Main Engineering, Mister Brodie,” she decided. “Shall we?”
“Lead on!”
* * * *
Legs… Well, they were humanoid.
Crouched inside another Jefferies Tube together, Erica and Brodie were peering out of a tiny crack in the opened access hatch. They were situated directly behind the throbbing warp core, their faces at ankle level while they desperately tried to assess the situation. While the odds were favorable with two against three and the element of surprise, more information was needed to mount an attack than just leather-clad legs.
One of the hijackers paused, entering commands into a console.
Erica saw his face before Brodie did.
Her gasp startled the Fortitude tactical officer into breaking silence.
“What is it?”
“The hijackers,” she told him. “They’re Santragan!”
ACT THREE
“Why the hell are Santragans hijacking the Steamrunner?”
“Why don’t you go out there and ask them?,” Gabriel Brodie retorted to the query voiced by Erica Martinez. The Station Master shot the Lieutenant Commander a dirty look before he continued. “Regardless of who they are or what they want, they have illegal control of Federation Starfleet property. It’s our job to stop them!”
The man had a point.
“On three,” Erica whispered. “One… two…”
Nobody even had to say three.
Bursting out from the Jefferies Tube, Brodie performed a perfect roll along with the durasteel deck plating of the Steamrunner’s engine room. Upon coming to a rest, he lifted his phaser and blasted on the closest hijacker directly in the chest. Behind him, Erica managed a more graceful exit from their cramped quarters. Standing tall, she fired her own phaser and took down a second Santragan, leaving one behind.
He had time to react, lifting some kind of weapon.
Both Erica and Brodie fired simultaneously, their phased energy beams meeting in the center of the Santragan’s abdomen. He crumpled like tissue paper underneath the force of twin stun blasts. All that remained was for the two Starfleet officers to share a triumphant smirk and Main Engineering was theirs.
“You’re a good shot,” Brodie noted, impressed.
“Why, thank you, Mister Brodie,” she smiled, cascading black curls playing across her dark features. “We don’t have time to stand around mutually admiring one another. Come on, let’s get to work.”
As he joined her at the central command console, he had to grin.
“I wasn’t aware of any mutual attraction there… unless… of course…”
“There they are,” Erica interrupted him, shifting attention away from her Freudian slip and pointed at a LCARS display readout of the Bridge. “Fire humanoid biosigns that we now know to be Santragan.”
“They’re trying to rewrite the command codes.”
“Heh… good luck to them.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to laugh, Erica. Santragan vessels are technically similar to Starfleet vessels. These are a race that know their way around isolinear circuitry. Trust me.”
The Station Master of Starbase 499 fixed the tactical officer with a glare. “How do you know so much about Santragan vessels?”
“I like to be prepared,” Brodie growled,” for the unexpected.”
Shaking her head at the overblown macho drama of that particular statement, she continued to read the display in front of her. While the hijackers were unsuccessful in their attempts to rewrite the Steamrunner’s command codes, they were making great progress… and casting her eyes around Main Engineering, she realized that they have been making great progress down here too. Isolinear chips were strewn about everywhere. Access panels were open and circuits were scattered across the deck.
Suddenly the communications system chirped to life.
“Grak, report!,” a Santragan male snarled from the Bridge. “Grak, we’re preparing to override the tactical systems. Report your status! Have you been able to rewrite the tactical command codes yet? Grak, come in!”
There was a moment of silence… Foreboding silence…
Slowly, the biosigns on the LCARS display started to move. All of them clustered into a turbolift which sped downwards into the main body of the ship… towards Main Engineering… and towards Erica and Brodie.
Erica swallowed hard. “Something tells me that they’re going to know that we’re not Grak.”
* * * *
The owner of the angry voice stormed into Main Engineering, moments later. His fellow hijackers, four-strong and well-armed Santragans, covered his flanks. He was a powerful presence with his physicality matching the imposing tone with which he had snarled over the comms system from the Bridge. In his muscular arms, an ugly-looking plasma rifle refused to budge, being waved around the corners of the Steamrunner’s heart as it was.
He noticed the bodies of the other Santragans in short order.
Gabe Brodie was watching all of this happen from his hiding place. Having bathed his crouching form in the shadows, he waited for the rushed plan of action to begin.
On the opposite side of the warp core, Erica Martinez was in a similar position. Her hand briefly left the comfort of the darkness to tap at a control board, her slender fingers making as little noise as it was possible. That was until they were meant to.
The alert was nicely misplaced. The central console let up with a system error warning.
It caught all of the fuming Santragans by surprise.
All Brodie had to do was tap his combadge which was the signal.
He waited until all five of the hijackers were clustered around the central console before doing so. Erica immediately sprang from cover, shooting the two hijackers that were the closest to her. As she did, Brodie added to the confusion by shooting his own two targets, leaving the fifth and final Santragan, the leader of the pack, wide-eyed with astonishment.
“Drop your weapon!,” barked the Lieutenant Commander.
“Starfleet…,” the hijacker hissed, his every syllable laced with venom.
He wasn’t complying with the tactical officer’s order.
Gabe stepped closer, his phaser raised towards the hijack. “I said ‘drop it’,” he pressed on. “You would be able to shoot either of us!”
Another step… another step…
“No, I won’t,” the Santragan growled,” but I can shoot one!”
He raised his plasma rifle towards Erica Martinez.
Brodie felt his body react before his mind even hoped to engage.
Leaping forward, the athletic black man dropped his phaser and seized the towering frame of the lead hijacker. It was a ridiculous move. Why not just stun him from a safe distance? The primal instincts of the natural fighter within him had taken over, destroying all hope of logical thought. This bastard had threatened Erica with a weapon that was most definitely not set to a stun setting. He had to stop him.
The plasma rifle went off but thanks to the reckless lunge from Gabe, the discharge blew a hole in the ceiling. It missed any vital systems just by sheer luck.
Meanwhile, Erica held her phaser in place.
She couldn’t get a clear shot, but even if she could, she doubted her ability to fire.
Gabriel Brodie was risking himself to save her. To say the least, it was an emotional moment.
The fight lasted for only a short time. After his third punch to the hijacker, missing his cranial horns by inches, Brodie felt the internal will of his opponent subside. Stumbling backwards, dropping his weapon, and raising his hands in defeat, the Santragan gasped for air as he had been soundly defeated by the Starfleet officer.
“Okay… okay…,” he winched. “I surrender…”
“Oh, no,” Gabe corrected him with fire in his veins,” you don’t.”
The next punch was the hardest yet. It floored the hijacker, knocking him unconscious.
Gabe shook his painful hand aside, admiring his handiwork. It felt good.
“Are you all right?,” a familiar voice broke into his tunnel vision.
“What? Oh… yeah, thanks, Erica. I’m fine.”
“You were a damned fool for doing that,” the Station Master noted, stepping over the defeated Santragan to stand beside her savior. “A damned fool… but it didn’t go unnoticed. Thank you, Mister Brodie.”
Gabe felt the beautiful Latina woman draw in close.
“This is the Federation starship Fortitude calling the Steamrunner,” the communications system interrupted them with impeccable timing. “To those in control of this ship, you have stolen Federation property. Prepare to be boarded. You are under arrest.”
They couldn’t help themselves.
They just had to laugh.
EPILOGUE
“He gave you absolutely no idea?”
Captain Ewan Llewellyn confirmed his answer as he and Erica Martinez walked through the corridors of the USS Fortitude. They were halfway between Sickbay, where Doctor Pulaski had carefully examined her for any injuries and found none and the docking arm that connected the Intrepid-class starship the Starbase 499. Steamrunner was home and safely tucked away in another docking bay. The Santragans responsible for the hijacking were on a Santragan transport heading for the surface of their homeworld. The Captain had finished handing them over to Ambassador Veth Ka’Gerran before checking up on Erica, who was shocked at the lack of answers, to say the least.
“Absolutely none,” Ewan lamented. “He just asked me to trust him and to hand over the prisoners for an immediate return to Santrag II. I guess we won’t be finding out why they hijacked the Steamrunner anytime soon.”
“Dos Mios, that’s annoying,” Martinez seethed. “I really thought that Veth, of all people, would…”
“Look, pondering this won’t do either of us any good. I’m heading over to see Boxer, and tell him about this turn of events. Maybe a good adventure will snap him back to us, or at least, I’m hoping so… Will you join me?”
“Ah,” Erica paused for a moment. “No, not right now. I’ll join you later, okay?”
With a slightly puzzled crease across his forehead, Llewellyn nodded and parted ways, leaving the Station Master standing alone in the corridor. After a quick moment to establish her bearings, she turned and headed in the direction of the crew quarters. Finding the appropriate door, she let the doorbell chime patiently, waiting only a few seconds for a response.
The door slid open to reveal Lieutenant Commander Gabriel Brodie.
“Erica,” he said, smiling,” what can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to drop by,” she said, returning the smile,” and finish saying thank you…”
The End.