Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Two, Episode Six: “Return”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
“Estimated time of arrival?”
“We’ll be back in orbit of Santrag II within six hours,” Captain Ewan Llewellyn relayed over the subspace transmission. Standing at the monitor which displayed his face, Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore nodded and let his friend continue with his report. “Then you and I can talk shop while we restock our supplies. I’m eager to know how the situation with the Santragan government is going. How is Prime Minister Ka’Gerran holding up?”
“Same as always, my friend,” growled Blackmore. “Not much has changed, but I would like to talk about possible support.. By way of thanks for saving our butts over the repairs.”
“That sounds good to me. See you in six hours, Boxer. Llewellyn out.”
Leaving his office behind him, the Rear Admiral made his way through the corridors of Starbase 499, heading for the Station Master’s Office. He wanted to make sure that Erica Martinez knew about Fortitude’s return and to help her prepare. She had been wrestling with herself over the question about whether or not she should disclose her feelings to the dashing young Welshman. He was a sympathetic commanding officer and he wanted everything to be given a fair chance.
Adjusting the belt of his dress uniform as he stepped into the hustle and bustle of 499’s central control hub, his plan was immediately dashed by a PADD and a fretful expression.
“What’s this, Erica?”
“We’ve got a vessel incoming,” Martinez reported. “They’ve requested permission to dock with us and they wanted me to relay a message to you. They’ve got a passenger aboard who requests an audience with you.”
“Oh? Who is it?”
“Take a look at the vessel designation, sir.”
Blackmore’s aging eyes bore into the PADD for a brief moment. What he read took him by surprise. Again, he scanned the data, double-checking his senses as his stomach performed an uncomfortable tap dance in response to the upsetting bombshell.
“Agent Hawkins,” he growled. “Damned Section Thirty-One!”
ACT ONE
Captain’s Log, Stardate 49676.8;
Our return to the Santrag system has been marred substantially by a very unwelcome guest. Agent Hawkins, the nefarious Section Thirty-One agent, has resurfaced. The last time that he was here, he planted a bomb aboard one of my shuttlecraft and attempted murder in order to flush out the Romulan spy posing as my chief medical officer. His methods are unorthodox, his manner deranged, and I have absolutely no confidence in the man whatsoever. Whatever he’s here for, it can’t be good news, and once again, I fear for the safety of my ship and my crew.
Ewan rarely stormed anywhere, and despite recent events taking the edge away from his pacifist tendencies, peace was still at his core and his driving force. The rampant simmering of resentment and loathing gnawed away at that peaceful core, this morning, as he stormed towards Rear Admiral Blackmore’s officer aboard Starbase 499. He visualized the face that would meet him: the thin, narrow face filled with pointed features and topped with slick, equally thin black hair. The pale white skin and deep, sunken eyes didn’t help the instant visual dislike. Only the shared history between Llewellyn and Agent Hawkins added to that dislike.
Without even ringing the door chimes, he entered the office.
“Ah, Captain,” Hawkins sneered at him, instantly, standing beside Blackmore’s desk while holding a cup of tea. “Such a pleasure to see you again.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Hawkins?”
“Please, Ewan… I can call you Ewan, can’t I?”
“Absolutely not!”
“Wonderful. Anyways, Ewan,” the Section Thirty-One agent continued, savoring his deliberate annoyance with a diabolical relish. “I am here on a very important mission from Starfleet Intelligence and I would appreciate a certain level of assistance on the part of Starbase 499 and the crew of the USS Fortitude.”
“I’ve heard that line before,” Llewellyn retorted with his fists balled up at his sides. “Last time you were here, you almost killed my chief engineer!”
“You’re also forgetting that I had almost gotten your Doctor T’Verra killed… and look how that turned out. I unearthed a Romulan spy in your crew, Ewan. I think that you should be a little more grateful, not to mention, a little happier to see me.”
Deciding to ignore the repulsive Hawkins entirely, the captain turned to the rear admiral who remained seated silently behind his desk. With a wide-eyed expression, almost searching for support in his tirade against the man who brought danger and deceit with him in spades, Ewan lifted his arms emphatically and felt his head shake from side to side.
“Boxer, please tell me that this is some kind of joke.”
“Unfortunately, it isn’t, Ewan.” Blackmore’s tone was grim. “These orders are solid.”
“Excellent, well, now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Hawkins sighed, moving away from the desk and heading for a seat. “Gentlemen, my mission is of utmost importance, not only to the security of the Federation but also to the political stability of this entire star system. Now, I gather that your senior staff is fully aware of Section Thirty-One, despite regulations to the contrary. Am I correct, Ewan?”
Llewellyn bit his tongue again at another mention of his first name. It was being used like a weapon to chip away at his resolve but he wouldn’t let the bastard win. Calming himself, he slowly explained the situation.
“We’re far removed from the Federation mainland,” he told Hawkins. “As you know, all Starfleet admirals, no matter their rank, have classified knowledge of Section Thirty-One. Rear Admiral Blackmore and I decided quite early in Fortitude’s posting out there to share all information. I was sent a file describing your organization and I quietly passed that file on to only my six senior department heads.”
“Loose lips sink ships,” Hawkin chastised him, his sneer gone. “Still, despite my problems with your openness, it will make this job go slightly easier.”
“And just what job would that be?”
* * * *
An hour had passed by. It was a strange hour that Captain Llewellyn wanted to see the back of rather promptly. After hearing Agent Hawkins through, and demanding to see substantial evidence to support some of his rather outlandish claims, he was now fully satisfied that there was an immediate threat to the Santrag system. Leaving Blackmore and Hawkins to sort out the details, he had returned to his ship with his head clouded by a million thoughts, bogging down his ability to process things.
Main Engineering was his destination. Upon his arrival, he searched through the yellow shouldered members of the crew to find the only one bearing a head encrusted with scales. Calling out before he even reached Lieutenant Commander Sollik, he grabbed the Suliban’s attention, causing him to snap to attention.
“Captain! I wasn’t expecting you!”
“At ease, Sollik,” Llewellyn said, waiving him off. “Listen, there’s going to be a briefing for all of the senior staff soon, but I wanted you to get a head-start on some things.”
“Oh? What things, sir?”
“I want you to enhance our tactical array. Specifically, I want you to divert power from both holodecks. Just take them offline. Include energy from the cargo bays and non-vital areas of the ships. Turn lights off, and maybe a few sections of the gravity plating. Just anything that will give us some extra juice. Send all of that power towards tactical systems. Shields are to be reinforced, phaser targeting refined, and torpedo loading times halved.”
Sollik didn’t like what he was hearing. Here was a normally peaceable man and for such a peaceable man to deliver such orders made him very uneasy.
“Are we expecting a battle, Captain?”
“Just get to work, and I’ll see you at the briefing. Oh, and get Ensign Morgan to help out.”
That request provoked an immediate hiss of displeasure from the chief engineer. His gleaming eyes burned as his muscles tightened beneath his uniform. Before Ewan could turn and leave Engineering, he couldn’t stop himself from complaining about Ensign Jim Morgan, the one person aboard Fortitude that he had a real problem with.
“Must I use him?”
Llewellyn was in no mood to play mother to the dysfunctional family. “This is no time for your personal prejudice, Sollik!,” he blurted back at him. “The array, now!”
Damn Agent Hawkins.
He always brought out the worst in people.
ACT TWO
The briefing went down like a lead balloon.
Jaws dropped, nostrils flared, and eyes widened as Ewan told his six most trusted officers about the return of Agent Hawkins. Usually the one to keep a cool and level head in a crisis, Valerie Archer even felt her toes curl up underneath the table, bearing into the soles of her boots like the crest of a relentless tsunami. It was then that the captain paused, standing up and turning to the window behind him. As his gaze cast across the beautiful world of Santrag II below them, he moved on to report on Hawkins’ quest.
“He’s back because another one of our old friends has also decided to return.”
A few of them had their guesses before he turned to tell them.
“The Romulan spy Naketha, the woman who we knew as Doctor T’Verra of Vulcan when our mission began, is somewhere in the Santrag system. She’s using an advanced cloaking device to conceal her warbird from our sensors and her own agenda is something that we can’t allow to continue.”
The gasps grew louder and the jaws dropped even lower. Jason Armstrong and Jim Morgan shared a horrified look, worried for each other’s safety. Lynn Boswell, the person who had spent the most time with the Romulan deep-cover operative, shook her head. Arden Vuro’s blue skin flushed a deep shade, almost turquoise, and Sollik suddenly realized why the captain had been insistent on those tactical upgrades.
“Are we planning on engaging her?,” Archer asked him after she had seen Sollik and Jim working together at the tactical station on the Bridge earlier.
“I don’t know yet. Hawkins claims that he simply wants to flush her out. Are all of you aware of the current political instability on Santrag II? Of the troubles facing Prime Minister Veth Ka’Gerran and his government?” A smattering of nods allowed him to continue when he returned to his seat. “Well, there had been a recent increase in rebel violence towards the capital, directed mainly as the Prime Minister’s Residence.”
“Armed uprisings?”
It was Jim Morgan, genuinely surprised at the idea. As a tactical officer, he had a vested interest in the various weapons of various worlds. He knew the one overriding factor when it came to Santragan sidearms was that they were notoriously difficult to come by, even in black markets and underground emporiums.
“They were using Romulan disruptors,” Llewellyn told him, gravely. “Naketha is on a secret mission to support the overthrow of Ka’Gerran’s government.”
“Oh, my God…,” Valerie gasped.
The rest of the Briefing Room joined her in that sentiment.
Ewan knew how they felt. He had experienced the same onslaught of shock earlier in Blackmore’s office, and so he let the room hang for a moment.
“Our new orders, direct from Starfleet Command,” he continued,” are to support Agent Hawkins in his assignment to expose Naketha’s supply runs and deny her the ability to restock the rebels on the surface of Santrag II. I’m supposed to tell you all to accept his orders and acquiesce to his requests, but I’m not going to. Instead, I want you to report to me everything that he asked for. I don’t want him so much as running a sensor sweep without my knowledge.”
“Absolutely, sir,” Vuro nodded.
“You’ve got it, Captain,” Jason and Jim chimed in.
“Understood,” Sollik hissed willingly.
Standing up once again, Llewellyn leaned over the table and looked around at the collected faces, barely managing the smile that he forced himself to show in an attempt to reassure them. Settling on Valerie, he sighed and gave them parting words of encouragement.
“I won’t let this divide us, like it almost did before. Stay strong, my friends.”
The smile returned.
“Let’s get to work.”
* * * *
They were completely oblivious to her presences… the fools.
She could almost see them through the Briefing Room window. The viewscreen was dominated by the USS Fortitude, NCC-76240. It filled her with a tempest of memories and emotions: the hatred that she had for the Federation starship, the prison that she had to endure, the Sickbay where she had pretended for so long to be Vulcan. Oh, how she loathed Vulcans. So devoid of passion, or ambition, and it almost sickened her to think that as a Romulan, she was a distant relative of those logic-loving idiots.
Naketha crossed her uniformed legs while she observed the viewscreen for one final time, letting the computers take in all of the new information that they could about the Intrepid-class starship. Any advantage that they could find would be useful and she could present it to the Senate and her commanding admirals with pride and security later as an added bonus.
She dominated the Bridge of her D’Deridex-class warbird, the Chuketh. She had never expected to get another command so quickly after her failure aboard the Fortitude on Stardate 49125.2. She had barely escaped with her life from that nightmare. Her Vulcan cover had been blown, and her only hope was in pleading with the pacifist Captain Ewan Llewellyn. He was so easy to manipulate, but then she wished that she had never escaped at all. Her failure had not gone unpunished.
It was almost three months of agonizing torture, horrific beatings and crushing loneliness before salvation had come her way. An old friend of hers had become a Senator, probably through some backstabbing assassination. He had insisted upon her release for a special new assignment that he had cooked up overnight. After gaining a seat on the Romulan Star Empire’s ruling body, he had become privy to an intelligence report detailing the political unrest on Santrag II.
His mind was a cunning one and the opportunity had been too delicious to pass up. Suddenly Naketha was free. Her experience with Captain Llewellyn and Starbase 499, not to mention her familiarity with Santrag II, made her the ideal candidate for the mission. She was given a house, a military commission, a small crew, and her own command, the Chuketh.
Now, here she sat, filled with contempt.
Desperately fighting the urge to order all weapons trained on the unsuspecting starship, she simply turned to a Centurion and asked for a report. The cloaking device was holding steadily. The cargo containers were ready and the planet was inside of transporter range.
“Beam the shipment to the coordinates,” she ordered him.
“Transport complete,” the Centurion informed her, a moment later. “Our contact is signaling. They have the shipment.”
“Home marvelous,” she grinned, arching her fingers. “Politics is such a fine art.”
ACT THREE
“I’ve just spoken with Prime Minister Ka’Gerran. He obviously welcomed the news like he would be welcome to a kick to the face, but he assures me that his security force is being deployed to track down the illegal weapons.”
Captain Llewellyn nodded slowly, accepting the development despite the unfortunate fact that it was probably a futile exercise anyways. The Santragans might get lucky and stumble across a faction of the rebels who were armed with Romulan disruptors. Then again, the limited and remote existence of any tangible data was the deciding factor. On the desk screen in front of him, Rear Admiral Blackmore peered into the Fortitude’s Ready Room and shook his head in desperation, his beard looking greyer than usual.
“I don’t know, Ewan,” he growled over the communications network. “This is one messed-up situation.”
“You can say that again, Boxer,” the captain agreed with him, finding the coffee on his desk without looking away from the monitor and letting the steaming hot liquid run down his throat and reinvigorate his tired senses. “Of all the ghosts that could have returned to haunt us, I was hoping that it wasn’t Agent Hawkins and Naketha.”
The door chimes to the Ready Room rang.
“Anything you need me to remain online for?,” Blackmore asked him.
“Nope,” he said, standing. “Just another haunting.”
Signing off from his transmission and leaving his desk behind, Llewellyn beckoned for his visitor to enter. He knew who it would be, and sure enough, in stepped the figure of hatred that he had come to revile.
Barely making any eye contact whatsoever, he walked away from Agent Hawkins, stepping towards the panoramic starfield that greeted him beyond the large windows of his Ready Room and concentrating on his coffee. Sure enough, the nefarious Section Thirty-One agent didn’t let the silence reign for long.
“Your people are annoying me, Ewan.”
“Whatever could you have done to antagonize them?,” Ewan asked him in a mocking tone, fully intending to insult him. “Oh, that’s right. You’re completely beyond redemption and lacking in any kind of moral center. Well, hey, that’s life, I suppose.”
“Order them to cooperate!,” Hawkins yelled at him. “I had to ask Ensign Armstrong for permission to run a simple scan. Ensign Armstrong! An Ensign! Damn this attitude, Ewan. This is exactly the kind of attitude that the enemy will relish! I could be finding this cloaked Warbird right now if I wasn’t in here, fighting with you Starfleet brats!”
That was enough of this nonsense for the captain.
“Now you’re just being rude, Hawkins,” Ewan hissed at him, turning on the spy. “We ‘Starfleet brats’ do our best to maintain a peaceful balance in the Santrag system. As removed as we are from the Federation mainland, and as isolated out here to function on our own initiative, we would be rather annoying egotists refrained from shooting up the place… which is exactly what you would be doing if you were given half the chance! You’re on my ship and that means you play by my rules!”
A riposte was about to be launched when the communications system interrupted the verbal sparring and gave both men something to focus on.
“Bridge to Captain Llewellyn,” called out Lieutenant Vuro. “Sir, you might want to get out here. I think we’ve found the Warbird.”
* * * *
On the Bridge of the Chuketh, Naketha let her superior Romulan gloating take a short break as an alarm sounded to her right. Glaring at the Centurion on duty for a report, she quickly got one, long before she had to place a hand on her disruptor to reinforce the chain of command.
“We’ve been detected,” stammered the young officer.
Naketha leaned back in her command chair, a slender finger tracing over the ridges that formed an imposing v-shape over her forehead. Slowly and calmly, she called up the current telemetry onto the viewscreen and there was Fortitude. It was moving to intercept, slowly moving with caution. With a slight smile, she watched the unfolding drama, wondering if Captain Llewellyn had changed at all since their last encounter.
Well, she was about to find out, wasn’t she?
“Hold position and maintain cloak,” she ordered. “Let’s see what they do.”
* * * *
“Report!”
Ewan ran out onto the Bridge of his ship with a tail in the form of Agent Hawkins who was irritatingly keeping pace and standing center stage along the captain as events began to unfold. The turbolift doors opened, unleashing Valerie Archer. She had also been summoned by Arden, who suddenly ceased to be the ranking officer in charge and he took his place at the helm. With a nod, the Bolian handed the technobabble over to Jason Armstrong at Ops.
“It seems that the fancy new Romulan cloak ain’t all that fancy,” he reeled off with his usual Kentucky drawl. “Not a single trace of the Warbird but I am detecting residual polaron particles, bearing at three-two-eight, mark four. Polaron particles are the only known byproduct of Romulan transporter systems, according to Starfleet records. I think we’ve caught them red-handed, Captain.”
“Are we heading in?,” Archer asked as she joined Llewellyn and Hawkins in the middle of the Bridge, placing herself between the two rivals.
“Aye, Commander,” Vuro confirmed,” slow and steady. I’ve got nothing yet.”
“Charge weapons!,” Hawkins cried out, turning to Jim Morgan at tactical and gesturing in the overblown manner that one might expect from the insane. “Red alert! Charge weapons and raise shields! Prepare to fire on my orders!”
“Hawkins..,” Ewan interrupted him.
“Shut up, Ewan!,” came his dismissive reply. “I’m in charge here!”
“No, Hawkins.”
That was it.
The final insult.
The word that made the spy stop dead in his tracks and turn, shaking with frustration, towards the captain. This was it, the moment that had been building up, ever since he returned to the Santrag system and since he came aboard.
The Bridge froze. Nobody wanted to get involved, even though all of them continued to watch the altercation with a morbid fascination. Even Valerie backed away.
Hawkins, even the one to simply take a few cheap shots at Llewellyn. Ever the one to appear superior, to belittle those that he disliked and wanted to overpower with his fancy mandates and signed orders. He could see it coming. There was nothing that he could do. Nothing but take another cheap shot.
“Pathetic. You’re utterly pathetic.”
Ewan couldn’t contain himself any longer. Seizing the Section Thirty-One agent by the collar, he yanked Hawkins in close, his dark hair falling from place across his enraged demeanor as he tightened his grip.
“You listen to me, you stuck-up piece of shit! Try giving another order and I’ll have you shoved out of an airlock! You can float back to your ship and leave this system or you can stand here in silence and watch us handle the situation! It’s your fucking choice!”
Nobody could believe it. Especially his knowledge of swear words. It was as if the real Ewan Llewellyn had been replaced by a Klingon warrior.
Everyone on the Bridge supported him. Agent Hawkins really did bring out the worst in people and here, on display for all to see, was the darkest incarnation of the captain ever to see the light of day. Letting go, he regained his posture and took a deep breath, replacing the stray hair with a sweep of his hand and turning back to the viewscreen which displayed empty space.
In shock, Hawkins did as he was told. Not a word left his lips.
“We’ve reached the polaron particles,” Armstrong reported a moment later, almost nervous to speak as the awkward silence was broken. “Sensors are still negative, sir.”
“All stop.”
“What’s the plan, Captain?,” Archer asked him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.. It was hardly needed. His restraint was so professional that he was as level-headed as he would ever be and inwardly, the release of his pent-up anger had been satisfying. It was a horrible thing for a pacifist to admit, but then again, that had been changing recently, hadn’t it?
“She can see us from here so what do we do?,” she continued.
“I’m hoping that being here is enough,” he began, letting his measured Welsh tones trail off slightly. “Perhaps we should be sure. Open a channel on all subspace bands.”
Jason complied and gave his captain a nod.
“Naketha, this is Captain Llewellyn,” he said, mustering forth all of the authority that he could manage and expanding his chest accordingly. “We know about your supply runs to Santrag II and we know you’ve been equipping the anti-government rebels with Romulan disruptors in order to tip the balance of power in favor of anarchy.”
There was no reply. He didn’t expect one.
“Your cloak is impressive, but your transporter beam isn’t.”
Again, there was no reply but he let the silence hang anyways.
“I must admit that it’s a bold plan,” he finally continued. “Were you hoping that a change of leadership would make the Santragans move against the Federation presence? Well, let me tell you that I think you picked the wrong planet to try and destabilize. Whatever political problems that they’re having down there are not the product of the Federation and they will not involve the Federation. You can’t do anything further without making any overtures of war. So why don’t you just return home to Romulus?”
There was more silence but it satisfied Ewan this time. He jerked his hand across his throat towards Ops, letting Ensign Armstrong know that he could kill the transmission.
“Continue scanning for polaron particles,” he ordered. “Other than that and without firing blindly into space, I can’t see any further action on our part. Agreed, Valerie?”
“Agreed, Captain,” she nodded with a slight smile.
“Right, then. Arden, take us back to 499 at one-quarter impulse. Hawkins, you’re coming with me to Transporter Room One and I hope that I never have to lay eyes on your sorry face ever again. We’re done here.”
EPILOGUE
It was a bold speech. He got respect for it.
The Chuketh was streaking back behind the borders at high warp and Naketha still managed to wallow in her own success. Unlike before, she hadn’t failed miserably. She hadn’t lost the Romulan Star Empire any ground in the Santrag system or within Starfleet or aboard Fortitude.
Captain Llewellyn had made a noble and rather convincing display in the final moments there and came close to engaging her Warbird in armed combat. Yes, he could have fired blind into space but she didn’t believe him to be that kind of a commander and her beliefs had been reinforced by his words. He was ever the peacemaker, the diplomat and yet not out of ignorance.
Last time, she had been the one desperately trying to convince him to stand down and allow her to escape to Romulan space. Nobody wanted war. Not with the continued friction between the Federation and the Klingon Empire, and certainly not with the looming shadow of the Dominion elsewhere in the Galaxy. This time, the tables had turned and she had been considering an attack.
Captain Llewellyn had reminded her… of herself during their last conversation..
Besides, she had completed her mission.
The cache of Romulan disruptors had been delivered for the third and final time. On the surface of Santrag II, right at this very instant, the rebels would be training with them or even… well, who knows?
Naketha had succeeded.
The revolution was coming.
The End.