Star Trek: Fortitude
Episode Seven: “Face Value, Part One”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
“Captain, if I may ask, do you know what this is all about?”
Station Master Erica Martinez was being somewhat forward and close to overstepping the boundaries of rank but Ewan Llewellyn didn’t mind. They got on well whenever the USS Fortitude was back in orbit of Santrag II.
Together, they were walking through the corridors of Starbase 499 and heading for the office of Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore. The summons to return to the Starbase had been urgent. The message had been encoded with the highest priority and delivered directly to the Captain’s Ready Room.
“I know what you know,” replied Llewelly, shrugging his shoulders.
“I’m worried. It’s not like Boxer to be so secretive.”
“I’m sure that there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation,” the captain said, attempting to comfort her but with little success. He sighed. “Listen, what would you say to dinner at Club 499 when I’m done with my meeting and I’ll put your fears away then?”
“I’ll see you there,” Erica smiled, parting ways at the door.
A moment later and Ewan was stepping inside the private office of Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore. Everything was normal and familiar as he remembered it. There was nothing to validate Martinez’s worries just yet.
Blackmore was there, his hands clasped behind his back, staring out of the window that overlooked the beautiful planet below. Everything was fine and there was no need for concern.
As the Rear Admiral turned to face Llewellyn, another figure emerged from the shadows. He was Human, or at least, he looked Human. His clothes were all black and his hair was a matching shade, slicked back. He carried himself with a sinister atmosphere, and instantly made him feel uncomfortable.
“Am I in trouble?,” he joked, trying humor on for size.
“I’ll cut straight to the point, Ewan,” Blackmore growled. “This is Agent Hawkins from Section Thirty-One. He’s Starfleet Intelligence and he’s here to report that one of your crew members aboard the Fortitude is a spy.”
ACT ONE
Santrag II reminded her of Earth.
Losing herself in her own wandering mind, Valerie Archer was hardly prepared for the return of her Commanding Officer. He had, at least, three more days of meetings and lunches before coming back aboard and continuing Fortitude’s mission of exploration.
And yet…
Snapping herself back to reality, here he was now, marching out onto the Bridge. To make matters worse, and stopping her from reeling off a witty aside, his expression was not in keeping with his usual character.
“Commander,” he demanded, heading directly for his Ready Room.
It didn’t take a Betazoid to recognize that something wasn’t right.
As the door slid shut behind her, she watched as Ewan literally slumped down into his chair. It was as if somebody had removed his skeleton with the wave of a magic wand. He didn’t know where to turn, and that meant that he had to come to his First Officer and by this stage of their relationship his closest friend aboard Fortitude. With a compassionate expression, she sat down and waited for him to begin.
“I’ve just met with an Agent of Section Thirty-One,” it was finally revealed.
“Starfleet’s Men in Black?,” Archer frowned, understanding how meeting with such a person could lead to stress and confusion. “What are they doing all the out here in our little corner of space?”
“A member of the crew is a spy and we don’t know who it is,” he stated flatly, staring into her eyes and reading her reactions. “I’m telling you because I believe that I can trust you. For something like this to happen to such a new and untested crew, you can imagine the position that this puts me in. Everyone is a potential suspect.
“Hold on, and back up. Start from the beginning, Ewan. What did this Section Thirty-One spook tell you, exactly?”
“One of his regular sources, a Yridian freighter captain, was responsible for transporting a bunch of refugees from a colony in the Fahtalla Sector to Earth, three months before we launched from Utopia Planitia. He had been told that there would be eighteen refugees, but when he went to pick them up, there were nineteen. They all hand the agreed payment so he didn’t quibble, but you know how Yridians can get. Eventually, this little nugget of information worked its way around the intelligence community until it landed on Section Thirty-One’s desk. Our Agent Hawkins did some tracking and found the nineteenth refugee, but he lost them before he could make an arrest.”
“And, now they think that this refugee is posing as a crew member aboard Fortitude? As a Starfleet officer?”
“There’s more, Valerie. The spy is… Romulan.”
“What the hell?”
“They’re not sure but they think that the placement is a deliberate act to get vital intelligence regarding our presence beyond Romulan space back to their homeworld. Rear Admiral Blackmore, Agent Hawkins believe that they’re planning to cut us off from the Federation.”
“That wouldn’t be difficult. We’re pretty much an island out here.”
Ewan nodded, his frown locked in place.
“Indeed, and the sea between us and the mainland is divided between the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Star Empire. The Klingons are now starting their own battles with us, mainly focused on their mad obsession with the Dominion threat in the Alpha Quadrant, but at this end of the scale?”
“Okay, I’m convinced… for now, but this had better not be a mistake,” Valerie finally relented her confusion, leaning back in her seat. “It’s not good for such a new crew to start tearing each other apart in paranoia.”
“I haven’t decided how to tackle this problem yet,” Llewelly admitted frankly. “Blackmore has the usual reams of advice, and Agent Hawkins stopped, short of giving me a crash training session in thinking like a spy, but I don’t know. Are we strong enough to face something like this, Valerie? Will the crew survive a witch hunt?”
“Yes. They will.”
“You seem to be pretty sure about that.”
“Remember the day when we finished the Steamrunner? Remember that night, after your speech, when I visited your quarters? I told you that the crew respected you and that they were honored to be serving under you. Not only does that still stand, but it’s stronger. More now than ever.”
Ewan felt his cheeks grow red. He was blushing, taken aback by the generous and touching comment. His mind was so focused on this recent revelation that was unprepared for someone to be nice to him. For someone to be… Human. He smiled, albeit weakly, as she gave her parting shot.
“Lead these people right, Ewan. No witch hunt and no backstabbing. You won their respect by being honest, remember? Do what you must, but remember that.”
* * * *
Sitting quietly by herself, Erica Martinez watched the world go by.
She had been waiting at Club 499 for almost an hour. Her second drink was nearly empty, and with a disgruntled sigh, she was considering getting herself a third. There was only so much waiting that she could tolerate. Maybe she misread the signals from Captain Llewellyn. Yes, they were definitely friendly, but she had detected… No, that wasn’t right. She hoped that there was something else there, something hinting at more.
It was getting embarrassing. She was the Station Master after all.
Her uniform was back in her quarters, and sure, she was wearing a civilian dress, but perhaps that made it all the more obvious that had been stood up. Many of the assorted aliens, mostly Santragan natives who passed through Club 499, didn’t give her a second look, but everyone who was wearing a Starfleet uniform recognized her.
Then she spotted Ensigns Jason Armstrong and Jim Morgan. They were from the Fortitude. Maybe they would know where their Captain was!
No, she couldn’t do that. She would appear to be desperate. Slowly, she turned her head, avoiding their gaze. Stealing a final glance, she noted that they didn’t appear to be happy. More than that, they appeared to be concerned. What had they seen? What was going on?
“Computer,” Erica finally broke, tapping her combadge,” locate Captain Ewan Llewellyn.”
“Captain Ewan Llewellyn is no longer aboard Starbase 499.”
Right.
ACT TWO
Captain’s Log, Stardate 49125.2;
Encrypt secure file.
After careful consideration of my options in this unique situation that I find myself in, I have decided to recall all personnel to the Fortitude, and initiate a discreet and methodical investigation. With the assistance of Agent Hawkins from Section Thirty-One, Rear Admiral Blackmore, and Commander Archer, I am hoping that we can uncover the Romulan spy quickly and painlessly. If not, I fear for the future of my ship, it’s mission, and for the future of the Federation’s presence in the Santrag system.”
Sollik’s mottled green hands flew across the console as he slowly banked the Type-9 shuttlecraft towards Fortitude. They had cleared the thermosphere of Santrag II early after they had received a secure transmission from the ship, ordering them to return immediately and to report in. Behind the Suliban chief engineer, the Chief Medical Officer, Doctor T’Verra was finishing up her inventory of the supplies that they had collected from the planet’s surface.
“We will have to schedule another supply run,” the Vulcan stated, concluding her list and noting the absence of several key items. “Did the captain give you any indication as to the nature of this recall?”
“None, Doctor,” Sollik replied, turning his seat to face her. “He just said that it was urgent and that all unfinished business would be resolved later.”
“I find his style of command to be erratic,” T’Verra revealed.
“I suppose you could say that. It’s no secret that a few of his decisions haven’t sat well with me down in Engineering.”
“It has not.”
“You must overhear quite a lot in Sickbay, Doctor.”
“Indeed, and often without choice. I still remain in awe of the Human capacity for illogical gossip. It is, shall we say, rather generous.”
Sollik simply nodded in agreement, returning to his controls.
With a bright white flash, one of the shuttle’s nacelles suddenly exploded. Alarms filled the cabin as T’Verra attempted to stand, lurching forward to sit down beside Sollik and render assistance. Smoke started to pour from a ruptured conduit, and behind the two officers, a LCARS interface erupted in a shower of sparks. Coughing and waging a private little war with his overpowered senses, Sollik desperately ran a scan of the internal sensors in an attempt to discover the problem.
“There must have been an imbalance in one of the nacelles!,” he cried out. “Damn it! I should have checked those relays before departure!”
“Shuttlecraft Stanley to Fortitude,” T’Verra spluttered, opening a communications channel. “Mayday! We require immediate assistance! I repeat, Shuttlecraft Stanley to Fortitude! Mayday!”
“It’s no use! The comms system is offline!”
“We can only hope,” the Vulcan doctor offered, punctuated by coughs as the smoke grew thicker,” that they detected the explosion and will dispatch a rescue effort. In the meantime… we should try and…”
She stopped talking. In a final desperate burst of coughing, he lost consciousness.
It was the last thing that Sollik remembered before he succumbed as well.
* * * *
The explosion had been detected.
Fortitude immediately responded, moving to intercept the shuttlecraft. At this stage, it was spinning out of control with nobody to pilot it. As a tractor-beam took hold of the small vessel, both of the motionless bodies of Sollik and T’Verra were beamed directly to Sickbay where Nurse Lynn Boswell was quick to react. Within a minute, she had injected them with a stabilizing agent and cleared the smoke from their lungs.
It wasn’t long before Captain Llewellyn and Commander Archer tore through the door, their attention drawn to the two occupied biobeds. They knew that Boswell didn’t know about the recent revelation of a spy aboard. While the nurse was thinking in terms of an accident, they were thinking in terms of sabotage.
“How are they?,” Valerie asked her.
“Stable for now,” Boswell reported. “They’ve inhaled a great deal of toxins. It’ll be some time before they’re back with us, but the damage is fixable.”
“Can you handle it?” Ewan stepped forward, realizing her rank and therefore believed that her experience was limited.
“Absolutely no question, Captain.”
“Good, thank you. Keep me posted on their status.”
* * * *
With no new information to be gained from Sickbay, Llewellyn and Archer left and headed for the shuttlebay where the ruined, twisted wreck of Shuttlecraft #02, the Stanley, had been brought aboard by Jason Armstrong. The port nacelle was completely gone, making the craft lean dramatically to one side and appear like a wounded dog. The operations officer had rounded up a few crewmen from Engineering on his way down from the Bridge, and they were scanning the debris with their tricorders as the captain approached the wreckage.”
“Report.”
“Nothing as yet, sir,” came Armstrong’s reply. “Everything is soaked in an antimatter residue that makes any real detective work difficult. We’ll have to wait for the effects to subside before I can determine the cause of the explosion.”
“Sollik prides himself in keeping these shuttles operational,” Archer observed, her mind racing with theories already.
Llewellyn instantly flashed her a devastating look. She was fueling conspiracy theories in front of junior officers who had no idea that Section Thirty-One was initiating an investigation to uncover a spy aboard Fortitude. She noticed the look and shut up before her musings progressed to outright speculations of sabotage, despite the fact that Ewan was thinking the same thing and he had been thinking that since he had been informed of the explosion. Thankfully, Jason didn’t pick up on that thread and simply continued his work.
“Any findings, no matter how small they are,” Ewan ordered him,” I want you to report them to me, immediately.”
“Will do, sir. How are Sollik and T’Verra?”
“In Sickbay, recovering. They’ll be fine, Ensign. Don’t worry.”
It would be good for that piece of information to be spread around the crew. If the spy had intended to murder the Chief Engineer and the Chief Medical Officer for whatever reason that they could imagine, the knowledge of their survival might provoke them to commit to some desperate action.
It was the hope of everyone involved that desperate action on the part of a spy would be like a signpost.
Then they could put all of this behind them and move on.
ACT THREE
“Come in,” Ewan called out.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, sir?”
Commander Archer stepped into his quarters and posed her question to him before the doors even had the time to close behind her. She looked tired. Although to be fair, the captain looked worse. He was preparing to beam over to Starbase 499 for yet another meeting with Rear Admiral Blackmore and Agent Hawkins of Section Thirty-One.
He was developing a deep dislike for the Starfleet Intelligence agent. Everything about the man was sneaky, underhanded, and duplicitous. His job clearly demanded a certain type of person but still, Ewan got the impression that Hawkins enjoyed being a two-faced bastard a little too much.
Turning to his First Officer, he shrugged. “It depends on what you’re thinking, Valerie,” came his tired response.
“You left the shuttlebay very damn quickly earlier. I think it was because you knew that I wanted to run a theory by you. It’s a theory that you’ve developed too and you don’t want to face it. Not aboard your ship. In your crew.”
“Sabotage,” Ewan whispered. “That shuttle was blown up by our Romulan spy… whoever the hell they are…”
“I don’t think we need to wait for Jason to finish his scans to determine this one.”
Slowly, Llewellyn let himself fall down into one of his many comfortable chairs. “I have here in my head, a list of two hundred and five…”
“Captain?,” Valerie asked, sitting down beside him.
“Old Earth history,” he continued. “During the Cold War that dominated the superpowers of late 20th century politics, there was a United States Senator named Joseph McCarthy. He led a witch hunt through the institutions of his own country for supposed Communist agents working for the USSR. paranoia, terror, and suspicion. It was a rule that through fear of the enemy, being your best friend, neighbor…”
“... or crew member,” she concluded for him. “You feel like McCarthy.”
“How can I not? I’m leading a witch hunt through my own crew to find this Romulan spy, and I can’t trust anybody! If Jason came in here, right now and told me that the shuttle developed a fault, I would think that he’s the spy and he was trying to cover up his own tracks!”
“Timing… It’s the timing of this that’s causing the most damage.”
“I know we’re a young crew but…”
There was a long pause between them. Ewan rubbed at his face, wishing he could just crawl into bed and wake up refreshed to the news that it had been one huge misunderstanding. Unfortunately, life didn’t work that way, especially not for a Starfleet captain. No, it was his duty to face things head-on, and to lead his people through uncertain waters. On that note, he stood up to head to his meeting.
“Section Thirty-One arrives and tells you that we’ve got a spy,” Archer said as he walked towards the door. “Later that day, the spy, whoever they may be, detonates an explosive aboard one of our shuttlecraft and tries to murder Sollik and T’Verra.”
“Timing again?,” Llewellyn asked her, pausing at the door. Maybe she was onto something.
“If this Romulan is a deep-cover agent, the bombing doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless…”
* * * *
In Sickbay, at that moment, Nurse Lynn Boswell ran her medical tricorder over the sleeping, healing body of Doctor T’Verra. Her youthful face crumpled into a frown as she read the results of the scan. Determined that it was a mistake, she repeated her actions. The frown remained in place.
This scan made no sense whatsoever.
Maybe the tricorder was broken. She went to fetch another, and then try again
* * * *
Blackmore and Hawkins were sitting together at the Rear-Admiral’s desk, pouring over various data and consuming as much caffeine as their internal systems could handle. When the doors to the office opened to reveal Captain Ewan Llewellyn, both pairs of eyes focused on him. The pair of eyes belonging to the Section Thirty-One agent held the most intensity.
Hawkins had been trained to view everybody as a suspect. It was only Starfleet regulations that demanded that he inform the captain of the USS Fortitude, the suspect vessel, before he initiated his investigation. If the decision had been left up to him, he would have probably gone undercover aboard that starship, right now, trying to catch the Romulan spy and claim the glory of the arrest for himself. Of course, he would never tell anybody these thoughts. At least, not Ewan Llewellyn, who, in his opinion, appeared to be far too weak and emotional to be a starship captain.
Llewellyn stepped purposefully forward with his own eyes fixed on Hawkins. Unlike the mind of the Section Thirty-One agent, his mind held one simple thought. It was a thought that had been helped into existence by Valerie Archer, but it was his thought, nonetheless. It was a thought that he had been aware of, ever since he met this hawkish-looking Starfleet Intelligence agent.
“Ah, Ewan, there you are,” Blackmore called out to him, the only person present with a completely innocent mind and clear thoughts. “Hawkins and I were just going over your crew manifests and we could use a fresh perspective on a few suspects.”
“I’ve got a suspect for you, Rear Admiral.”
Hawkins shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his senses warning him of what was coming next.
“You do?,” gasped Blackmore, dropping his PADD. “Who is it, Ewan? Are we talking about Senior Staff? Lower decks?”
“Section Thirty-One agents, Rear Admiral,” snarled the captain.
The room froze.
Blackmore couldn’t believe his ears. After all of his experience and all of his years in Starfleet, he had never heard something so outrageous. Yet he openly acknowledged and encouraged Ewan’s ballsy nature, his unorthodox mind, his sheer guts, and his determination. He was seriously considering calling Station Security to separate Llewellyn from Hawkins.
Meanwhile, Hawkins started to chuckle while the captain fumed with anger.
“You think that it’s me?”
“The day that you arrive, this supposed deep-cover Romulan spy decides to blow up one of my shuttlecraft and attempts to murder two of my senior officers! Unless the spy is me, my First Officer, or Rear Admiral Blackmore, then I don’t personally see how the logic of this day fits together!”
“Really, Captain, that’s quite a theory,” Hawkins laughed. “I don’t suppose you have any evidence? Beyond the fact that you don’t want your new crew to be guilty of betrayal?”
“He’s got a point, Ewan,” the oldest man present interjected. “You can’t barge in here and throw around accusations like this. Not on my watch.”
“Come on, Boxer…”
“That’s Rear Admiral Blackmore, if you don’t mind,” Edward snapped, feeling his jaw muscles tighten in anger at his nickname being used in company. Torn between the authority of Section Thirty-One and his growing friendship with Captain Llewelly, he was of two minds about whether or not to ever trust him again. This situation was insane!
“Listen to me, Ewan. For whatever reason that the Romulans planted an agent aboard your ship, I would say that they’re doing pretty damned well so far! Take a step back and look at what they’ve done to you! This is sheer paranoia!”
The word ‘paranoia’ rang in the captain’s ears. He had used it himself, a moment ago in his quarters to describe McCarthy’s United States of America… to describe what he feared of becoming. And now, here he was… becoming it. It stopped him dead in his tracks, like he had been punched in the stomach. It was all that he could do to stare at Hawkins.
“We can overlook this,” Blackmore continued. “It’s not like you’re pointing a phaser at the man, Ewan. Come on, sit down, and we can put our heads together to find the real spy before they cause any more damage!”
The chirp of a combadge broke the tension. “Boswell to Captain Lewellyn,” a young female voice said.
“Go ahead.”
“I see to see you here in Sickbay, right away. Bring Rear Admiral Blackmore.”
“What’s going on, Lynn?”
“Not over the comms system. Please, Captain, right now!”
EPILOGUE
Lynn Boswell was a white as a sheet when Ewan, Edward Blackmore, and Agent Hawkins marched into Sickbay aboard Fortitude. Behind her, Sollik was sitting up on his biobed, reading a PADD to bring himself up to speed on the repairs to Shuttlecraft #2, The suliban saw the group arrive and tried instantly to get up to his feet and to stand at attention in the Rear Admiral’s presence, but thankfully for his injuries, he was waved off by Blackmore. Beside him were two empty biobeds and upon noting that fact, Llewellyn frowned and stared at the central area of Sickbay.
Surrounded by glowing yellow and orange lights, Doctor T’Verra occupied the major diagnostic biobed. The sophisticated scanning arch was raised, covering her midsection and she was completely unconscious.
Turning to Nurse Boswell, he demanded answers. “What’s this all about? I thought T’Verra’s injuries weren’t that serious?”
“They’re not, Captain,” Lynn replied, visibly shaking.
“It’s all right,” soothed Blackmore, placing a reassuring hand on her blue shoulder. “Please, you sounded like this was urgent. What’s going on?”
“After treating the doctor, I ran a detailed physical examination, as regulations suggest, before I planned to revive and discharge her. At first, I thought that my tricorder was broken, but I ran the same scan with three individual unites, and… well…”
“Well, what?”
“I sedated her, Captain. She’s not Vulcan at all. She’s Romulan.”
To Be Continued...