Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Five, Episode Ten - “Ghosts”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
“Forty-nine and nine… forty-nine and nine…”
It mumbled in a low, hoarse whisper as it moved, scurrying along the innermost tubes and crawl spaces. Inside the jumbled mess that formed its mind’s thought patterns, all that it could do was name its home over and over. Forty-nine and none or otherwise known to the rest of the populace aboard as Starbase 499. It knew other words as well, words that formed distant shards of another life… but it couldn’t remember them. It tried. Oh, it tried over and over until it was driven to the brink of insanity but there was no response.
Just silence met his recollection.
Only impulse drove it. Impulse made its arms and legs, tired and bruised, move through the belly of Starbase 499. Impulse found its food and told it when danger was nearby… or worse still, approaching. That danger usually came in the form of people, people with guns, silver guns that made light… Oh, what were they called? And why were they chasing it anyway? Surely, it had done well lately!
It had shot the bad woman.
The bad woman had one of those silver guns, hadn’t she? She had been pointing it at the nice man dressed in white. Something told it that he could be trusted. The nice man… The impulse that made him steal the gun in the first place made it take aim and shoot the bad woman. The impulse had told it to protect the nice man… and it had! It had stopped her! It had saved the day! Why did they chase him?
“Forty-nine and nine,” it croaked again,” forty-nine and nine…”
It scuttled along the cold duranium surfaces of the crawl spaces with a fervor beyond its injured limbs, beyond the scars, the bruises, and open cuts. It had to get away. It didn’t want to get caught. It was scared of the flashlights, of the voices shouting behind it… and of the hands reaching out to grab it. It didn’t want to be caught. Starbase 499 was home now, wasn’t it? It didn’t want to be made to leave.
Instinct had told that chaotic mind that Starbase 499 was home.
Instinct had told that chaotic mind to shoot Naketha.
Instinct kept the gremlin going.
ACT ONE
Captain’s Log, Stardate 53774.2;
Our return to the Santrag system and Starbase 499 had relaxed the crew to a certain degree. It represents a much-needed chance to take stock of our exploratory mission and to lick our recent wounds, not to mention undo some of the tricky modifications that were made to the warp core. Meanwhile, Rear Admiral Blackmore is anticipating my return as some kind of local celebrity in order to assist him in impressing a local trade baron. While apprehensive about touting myself as famous, I’m eager to relinquish the responsibility of command… if only for a short space of time…
The USS Fortitude, NCC-76240-A thundered back to sunlight speeds, deliberately leaving a wide gap between herself and her anchored port. Captain Llewellyn had given the order expecting to find, at least, one gigantic trading vessel hanging in space around Starbase 499. The last thing that he wanted was to make a big impression on this special guest of the Rear Admiral by ramming into his fleet.
Sitting with his legs crossed in his command chair, the Welshman found the viewscreen to be strangely vacant. The system was surprisingly empty. There was always a shuttle doing some rounds, darting in and out of 499’s superstructure, and the Katherine Johnson was returning from a survey mission, but otherwise, there was no big trading fleet. No sign of a VIP guest at all.
“Ensign Armstrong,” Ewan asked from behind his slight frown,” scan for vessels.”
“I’m detecting one non-Starfleet signature, sir,” Jason replied in short order, reading from his operations console. “It’s coming from a small craft on the far side of 499. She’s approximately one hundred meters in length, half the size of us, and docked at one of the upper loading bays.”
“Put her on the viewscreen.”
It was a small, compact vessel. The loading bay’s docking arms were almost swamping the entire hull’s surface. There was nothing remarkable about it. In fact, Llewellyn’s initial reaction was to raise his eyebrows in surprise. If this was how Blackmore’s VIP traveled, had he been duped? It looked more like the transportation of some small-time marketplace merchant, nor the executive luxury vehicle of an important trading baron.
With a hum of confusion, he got to his feet and closed the distance between him and the viewscreen. His gut was telling him to check this out.
“Get me the Rear Admiral.”
The image of the small vessel was soon replaced by a familiar grinning beard. “Ewan, welcome back! What’s up?”
“Nothing much on our end. Has your VIP arrived yet?”
“Yeah, he did yesterday. His vessel is docked at the starboard upper loading bay.”
“That bit of a tiny ship for someone so important, don’t you think?”
“I knew you’d say that. Beam over, Ewan. I’ll introduce you…”
* * * *
Upon entering Rear Admiral Blackmore’s office, Ewan was immediately drawn to the third occupant in the room. The same gut feeling that made him inquire about the size of the visitor’s vessel was now telling him to treat the visitor himself with equal amounts of caution. Despite wrestling with his annoying habit of jumping to conclusions based on appearance, he was doing just that.
“Ewan,” Blackmore introduced him,” this is Skarta Iblan, head of Iblan Trading.”
He was a humanoid figure, short in stature and overcompensating with his unashamed attire. Complete with arching shoulders, the torso was one gigantic piece of rough-hewn body armor. It was decorated with various medals and badges that Ewan couldn’t be expected to recognize. Many of them looked to be a little too perfect, begging the question about whether Iblan had actually earned them from combat… or had simply earned enough money to buy them. A pair of hefty boots propelled him beyond his actual height and caused each footstep to be dramatically announced. If it weren’t for the ridiculously theatrical get-up, he might have mistaken him for a Human.
“Captain Llewellyn,” Iblan smiled at him, extending a gloved hand just like Blackmore had taught him yesterday. “I am honored to be finally meeting you. The tales of your exploits are not merely constrained to the Santrag System.”
“All good, I hope.” Llewellyn returned the smile awkwardly as he accepted the overly-firm handshake.. “Mister Iblan, your trading company has been a mainstay of life aboard Starbase 499 for a great many years and I hope for a great many years to come. I’m pleased that you finally managed to visit for yourself.”
It was pure diplomatic double talk, but he was doing it for the Rear Admiral. Turning to one side, Ewan shared a wry glance with Edward.
“The good Captain was wondering about your transportation, Skarta,” Blackmore chipped in, leading the conversation beyond the formalities. “I suppose he was expecting something a little bigger…?”
“Ah, yes,” Iblan snickered, his voice thin and raspy. “You see, Captain, if I were to fly around the Galaxy aboard a powerful starship, I would be announcing my presence to whoever I encountered. The curse of being as successful as I am means that I have many competitors. By using my own personal vessel, making it appear useless and ancient from the exterior, I can move around discreetly.”
“Surely there’s a degree of risk involved,” Ewan had to point out.
“There is, indeed, but I am a skilled man. I have never lost anything, Captain. Not a fight, not a trading contract, and… not even a ship.”
That last point had been deliberate, Ewan was sure of it. He struggled to contain his visible wince. Had this VIP just made a jibe at the Welshman for losing his old command? Had he done so right in the face of his gracious host? Was he really that belligerent? Really as arrogant as his appearance and tone made him seen? Trying to disarm the comment with a semi-impressed chuckle, he decided that he was and subsequently decided that he didn’t like Skarta Iblan.
Besides, there was something unsettling about the way that he kept staring at him…
A creeping, almost invasive feeling…
It chilled Ewan’s very soul.
* * * *
Gabriel Brodie found his girlfriend behind a stack of PADDs.
“Keeping you busy?”
Breaking out into a grin for the first time in weeks, Erica Martinez pushed aside her work long enough to plant a passionate kiss on the lips of her lover. It was the best welcome that the Fortitude tactical officer could have wished for. Upon parting, he had to share in her grin. It didn’t last for long as the Latina Station Master slumped back behind her desk and behind her assorted reports.
“What’s up?”
“I have literally had enough of this,” Erica vented. “I still have a gremlin aboard my starbase, Gabe, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it drag on. I swear to you that by the end of the day, I shall have whatever it is in my hands!”
Sympathetically, Gabe moved around the desk and planted a firm grip on Erica’s shoulders. The massage felt amazing and, for a second, it worked. She forgot all about her mistakes, all about the erroneous biosign that kept her awake at night, about all of the questions as to the strange action of stealing food and weapons one minute, and then shooting Naketha and saving Ewan Llewellyn the next… but the worry was too powerful to be defeated by a simple massage.
“Fancy being my backup?,” she asked her boyfriend.
“I thought you’d never ask,” came the reply.
ACT TWO
“There’s just something about him that I don’t trust…”
Rear Admiral Blackmore rolled his eyes. Normally, it was an indication of frustration on his part, but today, it was merely a playful dismissal of his best friend. While he did place great stock in the instincts of Ewan Llewellyn, this was simply one time when he couldn’t agree. Perhaps it was because he had gotten to know Skarta Iblan for a little longer or he had been involved with his trading concern, several years before Ewan had even shown up in the Santrag system. Whatever the reason, the older officer wasn’t hearing any of it. This was something positive to work on. The first positive thing in a long time which made a nice change from hearing about lost crewmen or the eternal doomed pessimism of the exiled Veth Ka’Gerran.
“Come on, Ewan,” Ed said, trying to defuse the situation,” the man’s on the level! You’ve got no reason to question him, other than a funny feeling in your gut. I’m sorry, but friend, but I’m not going to start tossing people out of airlocks, just because you’ve got indigestion! Skarta stays for now, and I would appreciate your continued support. He seems to like you.”
“Like me?,” Llewellyn repeated with emphasis. “Boxer, the man insulted me!”
“That was an innocent slip on his part. He wanted me to convey his apology after you left. He says he felt terrible about bringing it up.”
“No way. It was deliberate,” the Welshman persisted. “There’s something about the way that he kept locking those eyes of his on me. I felt like he was starting past the surface, looking for something… I don’t know what, but it made me feel uncomfortable. You must have noticed it!”
“Of course, I have,” Blackmore revealed to him. “His species is telepathic.”
“What?”
“I said they’re telepathic.”
“I know what you said, Boxer,” Ewan sighed. “What I mean is why wasn’t I told? And surely that explains it. Damnit, he was using his telepathy on me! That’s why I got that horrible feeling like somebody was rummaging through my head like his stare could see right through me. You’re not going to let this stand, are you?”
“Yes, I am,” the Rear Admiral nodded, his tone growing more serious with each passing word. “Ewan, he comes from a culture where telepathy is a fact of life. He can’t switch it off like, say, a Betazoid can. We’ve got nothing to hide. I don’t see the problem here. I really don't!”
“Nothing to hide… like command codes, maybe?”
“He can only pick up surface thoughts. Don’t think about your command codes while you’re standing in front of him and you’ll be fine. Besides, you’ve got to have trust in these matters.”
The Captain threw up his arms to highlight his mood. “Trust?”
“Yes! Trust!,” Blackmore snapped at him. “For God’s sake, when was the last time that we made a new friend out here, Ewan? Hmm? When was the last time? Your exploratory missions have started out great. We’ve made new alliances with people like the Eastleans and the Oxeeni, but what about it lately? I was shot by the last individual that we took into our confidence and our oldest allies down on Santrag II don’t want to hear from us anymore! I didn’t snap out of that coma, just to kick my heels up around here!”
He could only tell that Ewan felt slightly embarrassed. He had pushed at buttons that he knew existed, touching a nerve deep enough within the Rear Admiral that he had sworn never to touch. A remorseful shrug wasn’t enough to rescue the conversation. Tempers had been lost and despite the outburst, Ewan couldn’t ignore his revulsion of Skarta Iblan.
“I’m off to continue his tour,” growled the old man. “Are you coming or not?”
The younger man simply shook his head.
It was for the best.
* * * *
The collected sound of eight tricorders merged together to create a symphony of ever-increasing pitches and resonance. Waved in concert, the handheld devices were combined to form a powerful scanning radius. It was merely one of many. Across the entire twenty-first level of Starbase 399, six separate teams were using their own tricorders in a similar fashion, all of them working towards closing down a net of inescapable intricacy. They had been repeating this action, level after level, hour after hour.
At the head of her particular team, Erica Martinez wouldn’t have torn her dark eyes away from her tricorder screen for the apocalypse. Right now, all that mattered was the objective of this latest search effort. She had pulled every single security officer that she could find away from their regular duties. It was a massive exercise in manpower and resources, assisted greatly by the ever-supportive Gabriel Brodie. He stood beside her, his own tricorder whirring away with determination written across his face.
The gremlin wouldn’t escape today.
Slowly but surely, the net grew tighter.
“I’ve got something…”
Erica instantly turned towards Gabe, seeing confirmation with her own tricorder. Yes, there it was. Indiscriminate biosigns were fading in and out of sensor range but there it was all the same. Whatever the gremlin was, it was either clever or just damned lucky. It stuck to those areas of Starbase 499 that were a challenge to scan. Power conduits, ODN relays, and bio-neural gel packs all worked to its advantage. Vowing to overcome them, the Latina Station Master made silent hand gestures to her team. She fanned them out, converging them on the biosigns from all sides.
“They’re moving,” Gabe whispered to her. “Damn, it must know that we’re near!”
“It looks like it’s trying to skip a level or two… Oh, no!”
“What, Erica? What is it?”
“The gremlin is heading straight for the guest quarters,” came her reply from behind several strands of dark hair. “More specifically, they’re the guest quarters of Skarta Iblan… and my tricorder shows that he’s in there with Rear Admiral Blackmore!”
ACT THREE
It was terrified.
The quest to bury within itself for memory was on hold. Right now, intuition was telling it to move. Like a frightened, wounded animal, it tore through the crawl space with wide eyes blazing. Its survival instinct pushed it further away from the crescendo of footsteps and mechanical tricorder noises. It had to escape. It had to move. It had to survive. It couldn’t be captured!
With a vicious kick, it broke down an access panel and emerged from the shadows.
Light flooded its vision. Blinking hard, it tried to compensate.
It was standing in the guest quarters corridor.
It had to keep going.
* * * *
“Okay, enough of this. What’s the matter, Ewan?”
Looking up from his barely-touched lunch with false innocence, Ewan Llewellyn instantly recognized the expression on Valerie Archer’s face and dropped the act. She knew him far too well to let this slide.
They had been eating in relative silence for merely five minutes, but it was enough to sound the Red Alert klaxon in the First Officer’s mind. Her lover was not a happy man. By all accounts, he should have been. Why, it was only yesterday that he wouldn’t shut up about how eager that he was to return to Starbase 499 and engage in a little diplomacy alongside the Rear Admiral.
“I… well…”
Valerie saw that whatever the subject, it was difficult for him. Reaching out across the table, she interlocked her fingers with his right hand and gently squeezed the warm flesh. Being snappish wasn’t the answer or the way to make him talk. With apologetic eyes, she let him continue.
“It’s Boxer,” Ewan finally revealed to her. “He’s being so damned noble about this newfound relationship with Skarta Iblan. His heart is in the right place as always, but he’s leaping before he looks. I just can’t trust that trader, Valerie!”
“You’re not angry,” the Commander observed with a smile,” you’re worried.”
“That’s it! Absolutely, that’s it! Why can’t Boxer see that?”
Valerie left her seat and disengaged her grasp of Ewan’s hand, moving over to the couch underneath the main window of his quarters. Ewan followed her, clearly not hungry and therefore just pointlessly hovering over the food. He slouched down beside his First Officer and allowed her to place a comforting arm around his shoulders. It had the miracle effect of lowering his irate pulse down several notches. Just letting the scent of her hair fill his nostrils, just feeling the beat of her own heart… It calmed him. Of course, he had no idea that she was about to take Rear Admiral Blackmore’s side.
“I did some checking on Iblan,” she slowly whispered.
“You did?”
“Uh-huh. It seems that he wasn’t entirely truthful when he boasted to you about never losing a single thing. Six years ago, he placed his younger brother in command of a cargo vessel bound for a port that was along the Federation-Klingon border. According to the scattered pieces of reports that I cobbled together, the vessel belonged to Iblan Trading’s central depot covered in battle damage, missing her cargo… and her commander.”
“He lost his brother?,” Ewan gasped.
“Nobody knows who attacked them. Iblan remains convinced that it was the Klingons.”
Suddenly everything fell into place in the Captain’s mind. “Boxer lost his brother…”
Before anything further could be said, the lights dimmed. A deep, foreboding shade of crimson light flashed around the bulkheads. The echo of a siren filled the air, cutting through every single layer of thought, let alone speech.
Leaping to his feet, Llewellyn tapped his combadge with great urgency. “Captain to the Bridge,” he barked,” report!”
“Sir, Starbase 499 is reporting an emergency! They’ve found the gremlin!”
* * * *
Skarta Iblan allowed Ed Blackmore’s gestures to guide him out into the corridor. The glass of, what had the Rear Admiral called it…?
Whiskey?
It was swirling around his insides with a pleasing warmth. The trader made a mental note to press for the real stuff that was mentioned as having mind-altering properties. Naturally, for a telepath, such things were highly dangerous and illegal on Iblan’s world. Lucky for him that he was not only a risk taker but also from his people as this whiskey fascinated him. With his heavy armored shoulders twisting left, he started to follow Blackmore.
“Will Captain Llewellyn be joining us?”
“Unfortunately not,” the Rear Admiral growled, scratching his beard as he usually did in times of worry. “He has important business aboard his ship that demands his attention. I’m sorry.”
“Ed,” Iblan smiled, pausing.
“Oh, right… your telepathy, of course…”
“Don’t worry. I’m not trying to pry. It’s just when I mentioned the Captain, your thoughts turned to frustration and irritation. I do hope that everything’s all right between the two of you. I sense such a strong bond, and I would hate to see it broken.”
Stopping completely in the center of the corridor, Blackmore turned to face his VIP guest and friend head on. Iblan was right and it had to be said. Thankfully, his telepathic skills hadn't revealed the cause of the dispute between the Rear Admiral and the Captain. Either that or they had and the trader was just being polite. Either way, he was definitely right. Such a powerful relationship couldn’t be thrown away over such a trivial issue. Besides, Iblan wouldn’t be here forever.
“Thanks, Skarta. I reckon that I just needed somebody to say that is all.”
“Don’t mention it, Ed. It’s the least that I can--”
“All hands, this is an emergency alert! Civilian personnel are requested to remain in their current locations! All Starfleet personnel are ordered to assume your duty stations! I repeat, all hands, this is an emergency alert!”
“Ah, shit,” Blackmore snarled,” what now?”
The answer came in a blur. It whipped around a nearby corner with alarming speed, its legs pounding as they hammered into the deck plating. Dirty tattered clothing carried a stench of unwashed body odor. It forced both the Rear Admiral and his guest to wrinkle their noses in protest as they dove aside. Its arms flailed from the running shape in an attempt to push them away even further. Whatever it was, it was surrounded by an almost choking atmosphere of panic.
Skarta Iblan was confused, but Ed Blackmore wasn’t.
It was the gremlin.
Another figure was in hot pursuit. With a cry for everybody to stay down. Erica Martinez tore into view and steadied her aim. This was her moment when she would finally shoot the accursed gremlin and be rid of the menace. She wasn’t going to miss, not in a million years. Sure enough, it only took one blast from her phaser.
The gremlin’s broken body slammed down onto the deck, stunned.
“Perfect timing as always, Erica,” Blackmore nodded.
“Are you all right?,” asked the Latina woman.
“Yeah, just peachy. Well, it looks like you finally got your mark…”
At least, they knew that it was a humanoid. Judging from the build, probably male. There was only one way to be certain. Holstering her phaser, Erica moved towards the unconscious form as more security officers arrived on the scene. It was time to put a face to her unwitting nemesis. Crouching, she slid aside the tattered hood. The features that met her eyes were covered in grease and dried blood. Uneven stubble indicated that the poor fellow had tried to shave and he had failed miserably. Despite all of the horror, nothing could prepare her for the recognition that was to come.
It took a second before it set it.
“Boxer,” she yelled,” get over here and take a look at this!”
As the Rear Admiral crouched beside her and gasped, Erica could hardly accept it. “Is this even possible…?”
“If I wasn’t seeing what you were seeing, I wouldn’t believe it either.”
“But… how…?”
“That’s what I intend to find out,” he vowed, tapping his combadge in a shocked daze. “Captain Llewellyn, this is Rear Admiral Blackmore. We’ve captured the gremlin. Request permission to beam over to the Fortitude Sickbay immediately!”
“Permission granted,” Ewan’s voice replied to the request,” but why here?”
“You’ll understand when you see us…”
EPILOGUE
Okay, calling the Captain in, he could understand… But him?
Walking with a pace appropriate to the urgency of the call, Ensign Jason Armstrong was frowning to himself as he headed away from Fortitude’s Bridge. Something about the gremlin being finally caught, but why had such an event summoned him to Sickbay? Why did they need an operations officer? Maybe the gremlin wasn’t Human or wasn’t even from this universe… ooh! The young officer’s mind was awash with speculation!
Excitement told him to increase his speed even further.
Walking through the Sickbay door, he came across nothing but the excitement on the faces of those gathered around the central biobed. It was a serious mixture, too. The Captain was standing alongside Rear Admiral Blackmore and Station Master Martinez was present too, right beside Doctor Pulaski. All of them wore sympathy and concern as prominently as confusion as they noted his arrival.
Something was amiss, badly amiss. They wouldn’t be looking like this if it were some great discovery. What the heck was this gremlin anyway?
“Captain?,” the Kentuckian asked cautiously. “Doctor?”
Nobody answered him. Silently, they all just stepped aside to reveal the biobed. Upon it was the gremlin, dirty, disheveled, who was sitting upright.
It turned and looked directly at him. The eyes were hollow and distant, completely lacking in any kind of awareness. Around them were signs of a severe beating, and bruises that were a deep, sinister shade of purple. The mouth was agape, with words beyond comprehension unable to escape it. There was not the slightest hint of realization about the entire thing, not a shred of evidence to suggest that it even grasped who it was looking at. It just stared vacantly with an eerie silence.
Gagging, Jason Armstrong felt like he was going to throw up.
There, sitting on the biobed, was James Morgan.
The End.