Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Five, Episode Two - “Norway”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
He awoke early.
Leaving Valerie Archer to her dreams, Ewan Llewellyn slid his robe over his semi-naked body and padded over to the replicator. Quietly, he typed in the code for coffee, not wanting to wake the woman beside him but shouting at the terminal for his beverage, and took the steaming cup into the other room. Only when the door was closed did he stretch and let out a whimpering yawn.
His surroundings were unfamiliar. It was to be expected. He would never sleep again in his quarters aboard his ship because it was gone. His quarters had been blown to smithereens when he had ordered that auto-destruct sequence over Santrag II.
They had probably been trashed by the invading hoard of End soldiers, he told himself as he took a sip of coffee. Well, it had saved him from tidying up the place, hadn’t it? Shaking his head at the inwardly-terrible joke, he began his journey towards the window.
It had been almost three weeks since the final End soldier had been defeated in the conclusion of the Battle of Four-Nine-Nine. Three weeks… and only now Ewan could get some sleep, albeit interrupted and never needing an alarm clock. Something kept waking him. It was either the faces of all of those crew members that he had lost to the End under his command or it was the sight of Fortitude breaking apart and being engulfed in flame. Sometimes it was even the battered, weary and confused face of Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore, standing over the broken body of an End soldier, awake after being in a coma for almost a year.
Ewan knew that such images wouldn’t pass away quickly, especially not today. Reaching the window, he opened the curtains and recoiled at the sunlight.
Today, all of those images would be discussed, analyzed, and repeated over and over again to a group of hard-nosed Starfleet admirals who wanted to know why such a young and capable officer had lost his ship. Today, the Welshman was in San Francisco, back on Earth after eighteen months of absence.
Today was the official inquest of Ewan Llewellyn’s captaincy.
ACT ONE
Personal Log, Stardate 52959.6;
Starfleet Command in San Francisco can be one hell of a formidable building, especially when one approaches it to learn the fate of one’s career. Valerie and I, along with Rear Admiral Blackmore, have been on Earth for only a day and already my head is filled with images of being stuck here behind a desk as punishment for ordering that auto-destruct sequence. While Boxer visits some old friends and plays catch-up after his year of inactivity, Valerie and I are heading to the inquest.
Ewan closed his eyes in an attempt to capture a mental photograph of her smiling face. He wagered that he would need such a perfect memory to sustain him through the stern, angry faces that he expected to meet on the other side of the door. Giving a small, awkward wave to Valerie Archer, the former captain of Fortitude turned on his heel and marched as defiantly as he could manage into the inquest.
The chamber beyond was larger than he had imagined. The view of the San Francisco bay area, complete with the sparkling Golden Gate Bridge was breathtaking, almost enough to distract him from the somber tones of the occasion. Whoever had decided to have the inquest in here was an annoying bastard. After all, he had been missing Earth recently.
Maybe it was the stress of command finally getting to him or maybe it was just the horrible nature of recent events… but something inside of him just wanted to run back here, where he had grown up, and to a time before End soldiers, Shurvun backstabbers, and Borg Cubes had filled his days. Adjusting his focus back to the proceedings, he walked to his seat with a short shake of his head.
The faces that greeted him were just as stern as he had feared. Four senior admirals, three men and one woman… and one of the men was a Vulcan. With no hint of racism, Llewellyn lamented the Vulcan’s presence. After all, the actions that were being questioned here were moments of extreme emotion and stress. He needed compassionate people to determine his future, not the cold, relentless logic of a Vulcan.
Unfortunately, the biggest shock of the morning was yet to come. A side door opened and it released a man into the chamber.
Ewan gasped when his memory put a name to the grey-white hair, the waspish facial features, and the aged gait. Only the polished wooden cane was new to the aghast Welshmen. No, this was the worst luck! It couldn’t be random, could it? Had the bastard requested to hold this inquest out of spite?
“Captain Cooper,” he whispered under his breath.
“Ah, Captain Llewellyn,” Charles Cooper noted with obvious enjoyment. “We finally meet again after all of these years…”
Llewellyn wasn’t listening. He had turned towards the admirals.
“Sirs, I formally request another JAG officer in this inquest. There is history between Captain Cooper and I. He was responsible for a witch hunt against me, just under four years ago. It was a witch hunt that was completely unprofessional and unfounded, resulting in his failure. I believe him to hold a personal bias against me.”
The Vulcan admiral raised a curious eyebrow. “Four years have passed, Captain Llewellyn,” he stated logically,” and you have only just met the Captain again. I hardly believe that you have the grounds for such an accusation… and besides, Captain Cooper is the only chair available.”
Ewan fumed, retracting his request.
Cooper just smirked as he walked by. “Nice try, Ewan.”
The female admiral rang a tiny bell that rested on the bench before her. It was an antiquated touch, but tradition was tradition. Everyone got to their feet before the four senior officers. A young Ensign entered, a pretty Bajoran girl who was fresh from the Academy whose grounds could be seen within sight of the inquest chamber. She activated a small recording device that would be used to chart the course of the proceedings. The order was given to hit and everyone complied.
“We are here today,” Charles Cooper began with as much pomposity and gusto as his advanced years would allow,” to question the command competency of Ewan Llewellyn, the Starfleet captain responsible for the recent destruction of the USS Fortitude, NCC-76240, an Intrepid-class starship, some forty-seven months out of the Utopia Planitia shipyards. I have access to certain logs, both personal and official, that I shall be using in my case against Captain Llewellyn. No witnesses shall be called.”
Of course, they wouldn’t, Ewan thought. Cooper had tried that stunt the last time, trying to manipulate Lieutenant Commander Sollik into admitting certain flaws in his command style. It seemed that you could teach an old dog new tricks.
Cooper was loving every second of this. It seemed that he had finally found his opportunity for revenge.
* * * *
She still wasn’t used to seeing him up and about.
Despite his age, Edward Blackmore still cut a dashing figure. The uniform draped over his broad shoulders, gold trim tapering towards his United Federation of Planets crest belt buckle, was smarter than ever before. After all, he was back in the corridors of Starfleet Command, and as a Rear Admiral, he had to carry a certain class. His graying beard was trimmed to perfection and a permanent smile was etched onto his creased visage when he moved around the corner and waved towards Valerie Archer.
“How’s our boy doing in there?”
“I wish I knew,” Valerie lamented.
“Give it time,” Blackmore tried to console her. “Hopefully, this means that they’re pushing through everything today and they’re trying to reach a quick ruling. Hey, if I were on that inquest panel, I know how I would rule. Ewan had no choice in ordering that auto-destruct. It was either that or become another victim himself.”
“If I may be so bold, sir, it was sweet of you to come here.”
Aboard Starbase 499 in the Santrag system, the ranks would have been dropped without question. Here, back on Earth, there was a system to uphold. Blackmore grinned at the Commander, appreciating the gesture. While it was refreshing to visit old friends and catch up on a year of missed history, he couldn’t wait to be back in the company of his true family… Kate, Erica, Ewan, and the others.
The first week of being back had been difficult. Finding Veth Ka’Gerran was hidden away in guest quarters and in exile from his own people. Then there had been the letter from his brother that Ewan explained that had been sent, just too late. They were developments that he could have done without. Nevertheless, he had dealt with them, accepted them, and battled through them.
Being in a coma had opened his eyes to the future. Life didn’t last forever.
He wanted to move on.
The door to the inquest chamber slid open, tearing Edward’s attention away from his train of thought. Valerie spun around to see a fuming, seething Ewan Llewellyn literally storm into the corridor. He barely registered Valerie and it was only the unexpected attendance of the Rear Admiral that had caught him mid-stride.
“That bad, huh?,” Blackmore grunted.
“What happened, Ewan?,” Valerie asked him.
All that the Welshman could growl was one word… one name. “Cooper…”
ACT TWO
The second day of the inquest kicked off into a solemn tone immediately.
“Admirals,” Charles Cooper postulated in his opening statement,” At this moment in time, the United Federation of Planets is in the process of rebuilding the Alpha Quadrant after the devastation that we suffered at the hands of the Dominion. What starships that we have remaining in service need to be commanded by level-headed pragmatists. What I plan to show you today is that Ewan Llewellyn is anything but a pragmatist. The Federation cannot afford to have captains who blow up their own starships!”
Ewan winced at the overblown nature of Cooper’s tactics, only to see the Admirals lining the bench remain stony-faced and objective. Damn it, for goodness’ sake, was this an inquest or a trial? Well, he had been offered legal representation from the Starfleet JAG Corps but he had politely declined their offer. That was before he knew that Cooper would be calling the shots. No looking back, he told himself… focus…
The elderly lawyer scooped up a PADD in his gnarled hand, turning towards Llewellyn with a menacing intent and a glint in his sparkling, narrowed eye.
“Captain Llewellyn, on Stardate 49045.2, you took Fortitude into a dense asteroid field in pursuit of a single End spacial probe. You endangered the one hundred and forty men and women under your command to, what, catch an automated device? I wonder if these are truly the actions of a level-headed captain or an unstable and inexperienced young officer out of his depth in the big chair.”
That was four years ago. Was he really digging this all up again?
“You attempted to use that incident as evidence against me before, Captain,” Ewan noted with a grimace. “It didn’t work then, and it won’t work now. My actions were justified. The End probe was carrying information regarding Fortitude back into End space. If I hadn’t chased it down and destroyed it, we would have been facing an End invasion fleet at the end of the week!”
“And yet you faced that invasion all the same,” Cooper smirked,” later that same year, on Stardate 49219.3 when Starbase 499 was attacked. Was steering Fortitude into an asteroid field really worth the few months?”
“Yes, I believe it was.”
The bench remained unmoved and Cooper continued his assault.
“There is a pattern to this behavior, I’m saddened to learn. On Starbase 50892.5, you knowingly engaged a Borg Cube without any indication that you realized the sheer risk involved in such a maneuver. Tell me, Captain, were you more interested in stopping the Borg or in saving your Chief Medical Officer, one Doctor Lynn Boswell, who had been previously captured and assimilated by the same Cube?”
How dare he? What kind of insinuation was this?
There was not a single reaction from the bench. They clearly thought that the question was valid.
Ewan didn’t and he didn’t want to answer him.
“I object to the nature of that question. Starship captains have faced insurmountable odds since the beginning of Starfleet. You can’t question my competency as Captain by spinning my efforts to stop the Borg invasion.”
“Hmm…,” Cooper mused, turning to the young Bajoran ensign who was recording the inquest. “Please make sure that the record shows that Captain Llewellyn refused to answer.”
Llewellyn rolled his eyes.
The questions continued all the same.
“On Stardate 52447.9, a duck blind mission on the planet L’Raka was uncovered by the very same Tal Shiar agent who had posed as your Vulcan Chief Medical Officer for the first months of your time as Captain of Fortitude. Your chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Sollik, was testing modifications to isolation suits that allowed the wearer to appear invisible. I will brush over the implications that these suits would have on the Treaty of Algernon to ask a more direct question to Captain Llewellyn. You lost your arm during this incident, didn’t you? Your left arm, just below the elbow, if I’m correct?”
“What about it?,” Ewan snapped, sensitive to his artificial limb.
“Do you believe that this makes you disabled?”
Llewellyn was too busy reeling from the disgusting proposition from Captain Cooper to notice but two of the Admirals on the bench shot Cooper disapproving looks. There was nothing officially to object to here but everybody could see where this line of questioning was leading. Even the Vulcan Admiral raised an eyebrow.
This was the 24th-century. Taking this line of questioning, Cooper wouldn’t get anywhere. Ewan stood his ground and remained silent.
“I believe that it does,” Cooper continued. “I also believe that the psychological implications of receiving such a wound warrant question marks to be placed over your mental health and your capability to command a starship.”
If he bit his tongue any hard, he would draw blood. He simply couldn’t keep quiet.
“So you’re saying, Captain, that if somebody is disabled, then they should be excluded from serving in Starfleet? Or should we just keep them away from the really big jobs, hmm? Why not draw the line at disabilities anyways? There are some species serving in Starfleet that only have one arm. Let’s deny them command responsibilities!”
“I don’t like your tone, Ewan,” Cooper hissed at him.
“I’m not finished yet,” Ewan retorted, now that he was in full swing. “You also seem to think that people should retire from the service after receiving injuries in the line of duty. That’s brilliant! Just down the road is Starfleet Medical. Why don’t you go down there now and tell all of those recovering from the Dominion War that they’re fired, eh? All of those who sacrificed their limbs, and more, to protect us. Show them the door, why don’t you?!”
The final word echoed around the inquest chamber.
Captain Cooper took a step back. He had suddenly realized what he had done. He had allowed Ewan Llewellyn to champion 24th-century morality.
He had made him look like a hero.
* * * *
“Zack, you old devil…!”
“Edward! I heard you were back from the dead!”
“Not quite dead yet, old friend. Listen, how are things over at Fleet Operations?”
“All right, yeah. Things are finally getting back to normal. In fact, I’ve got a project right now. A new retrofit test to enhance some of the older, weaker classes and give them more responsibility. Heh, why am I telling you this? You don’t want to hear about my work. You’ve got a whole year to catch up on…”
“Actually, Zack, I do want to hear about your work.”
“Oh…?”
“Tell me everything about this new retrofit test, will you?”
ACT THREE
The Starfleet Command class-three travel pod banked graciously away from the powerful glare of Earth’s sun. inside the pod, Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore blinked his eyes back into focus, turning to share a chuckle with Ewan Llewellyn and Valerie Archer. The three of them were flying high above San Francisco with the blunt nose of the travel pod pointed towards open space as the topaz atmosphere faded around them and transformed into the darkness of the Galaxy. With his hands moving slowly over the flight controls, he tried to remember the last time that he had piloted… well, anything.
There was a celebratory mood between the three friends. After the shocking outburst from the embittered Captain Charles Cooper at Ewan’s inquest, the case against the Welshman had fallen to pieces. All possible hints at any charges were dismissed. The only problem was that, thanks to the weakened state of Starfleet, none of the Admirals on the bench could promise Ewan another starship. Of course, he was just pleased to have Charles Cooper off of his back. Only now, taking to the stars once more, did the reality of his situation sink in, he might never explore space again.
Valerie caught her lover’s expression as the travel pod swooped around the imposing hull of an Excelsior-class starship. She knew that it must be tearing him apart, his lack of a command, but she also knew what was to come. Rear Admiral Blackmore had pulled her aside after the inquest closed and let her in on the surprise. Without wanting to give anything away, she squeezed Ewan’s hand.
“Cosmic thoughts?,” she cooed.
“I was just wondering,” came his reply as he nodded his dark fringe towards the passing Excelsior-class starship,” will that ever be me again?”
“Who knows what the future will hold for you and your crew.”
“That’s the trouble, though. They’re not my crew, not while I don’t have a command. What good is this fourth rank pip on my neck without the chair that usually comes with it? Jason, Arden, Sollik, Kate, Gabe… they could all be reassigned and I would have no say in the matter whatsoever. We would lose the family.
Valerie nodded with sympathy. She tapped Rear Admiral Blackmore on the shoulder. “I think we’ve made him wait long enough…”
“Gotcha,” Edward grinned. “Changing course and heading in.”
“What’s going on?,” Llewellyn asked innocently.
The answer could be seen from the travel pod viewport in seconds.
One of many drydocks hung in Earth’s orbit. This particular drydock was being approached by the travel pod. Inside of it, clamped into place by arms that were the size of tower blocks, was a starship. It was instantly recognizable as Starfleet. Red and blue warp nacelles were swept backyards from the shovel-shaped saucer section. The front of it glowed with the power of the main deflector desk.
Ewan frowned.
It was a Norway-class frigate... But it wasn’t. There were key differences to her appearance. For one of them, the gap between the nacelle struts was filled with an extra compartment.
The confusion was entertaining to watch, but it quickly became just cruel.
Blackmore pulled back on the controls, lifting the travel pod high into the drydock. “She’s an experimental retrofit,” he explained while he piloted. “Thanks to the losses that the fleet took against the Dominion, bright sparks have been upgrading small classes to take on bigger jobs. This is the first Norway-class retrofit. She’s designed for deep-space assignments and exploration duty.
Ewan was barely listening. He had spotted the name painted on the dorsal hull.
All he could do was gasp.
“Ewan,” the Rear Admiral concluded with a wide grin,” I got you a present… and if you’re not too shell-shocked, I’d like to give you and Valerie a tour of your new command personally. Initiating docking procedures…”
Carefully, the travel pod connected with the USS Fortitude, NCC-76420-A.
* * * *
The Bridge was the last place on the tour.
Llewellyn felt his head spin as he stepped into the turbolift alongside Valerie and Boxer. The eight decks of his new starship were all hugely impressive. So much was jammed into every corner. For something so small, it was so remarkable. He had seen several extensive science labs. One of them had been converted into a holodeck, correcting the usual Norway-class mistake of lacking recreational facilities. He had seen a miniature Engineering section, complete with an upgraded warp core that was capable of punching up to an extraordinary Warp Nine. He had seen a Sickbay, a Mess Hall, and a Shuttlebay complete with gorgeous new shuttlecraft. Far from the two Type-9 vessels kept aboard the old Intrepid-class Fortitude, this craft was Type-11 in design, sleek, angular, and until today, could only be used aboard the larger Sovereign-class starships.
As the turbolift ascended towards Deck One, Blackmore briefed his friends.
“Now here’s the deal,” he growled, serious in his tone. “This ship was due to be extensively tested in the coming months. I’ve got an old pal over at Fleet Operations who told me all about her and I told him all about you. He owed me a favor and he quickly got some guys up here to paint a new name on the hull and slap together a new dedication plaque on the wall. We’re taking her back to Starbase 499 and you’ll continue your mission of exploration, but everything that you do with her out there will be logged and sent back to Earth for analysis. When the testing period is complete, you get to keep her for a five-year exploratory mission.”
“Boxer,” Ewan whispered, his head bowed,” I can’t thank you enough.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” objected the Rear Admiral. “The Fortitude-A is my way of thanking you. Listen… I saw the internal sensor feed from the medical level back on 499. I know that, over the past year, you’ve been at my side. I know what you’ve said and I know what you’ve done.”
Ewan’s cheeks turned red, matching the collar of his uniform.
Blackmore saw it and laughed. “So, as I said,” he concluded,” this is my way of thanking you.”
The turbolift ground to a halt and the doors slid open to reveal the Bridge.
It was a sight to behold. The walls were made of LCARS displays, all state-of-the-art interfaces that sparkled with the familiar hues or orange, purple and blue. They swept dramatically around to the large holographic viewscreen which hung over the pair of seats reserved for operations and the helm. Behind them, raised on the slightest hint of a dais, was something that Ewan mistook for a throne… but it was, in reality, his command chair. He would be central to the Bridge, elevated from his other officers and able to rotate towards any station in an instant.
“Try it on for size,” Blackmore suggested, slapping the Captain’s back.
As the Welshman settled into the plush leather seat with a low, impressed whistle, he felt the raw power of command flow through his veins. Valerie Archer found only standing room for the First Officer. She actually found it to be quite refreshing to stand on duty if it was somewhat old-fashioned. Looking around, she caught the bronze dedication plaque in the corner of her gaze and moved to read it.
“Hey, look,” she noted,” they’ve kept it the same…”
“What?,” Ewan asked, spinning his chair to face her.
“The quote … on the plaque. It’s the same as before. Francis Bacon…”
Llewellyn got up and walked over to join the Rear Admiral alongside Valerie. Together, they peered at the small line of text underneath all of the names involved in constructing the Norway-class Fortitude. Blackmore’s beard framed a knowing smile and he enjoyed watching the reactions of his friends as they read.
“Fortitude is the marshal of thought, the armor of the will, and the fort of reason.”
“I ordered that it remain,” the older man grunted. It feels kind of apt, even more so now.”
“It’s perfect,” Ewan agreed with him. “All of it, the whole lot… just perfect…”
“What do you say we take her to her new home?,” Valerie offered with a playful expression.
“I’d say yes to that…”
EPILOGUE
“What’s all of this about?”
Erica Martinez frowned as she walked out into the Station Master’s Office of Starbase 499 to find a gathering of old Fortitude officers cluttering her duty stations and staring out of her windows. Katherine Pulaski was the closest and therefore she was the one who turned to answer the Latina woman’s question. Behind her, Gabriel Brodie gave his lover a cute little wave. Failing to return it, Erica noticed that Sollik, Arden Vuro, and Jason Armstrong were all present and all of them were wearing confused, if excited, expressions.
“We all got messages to be here,” Pulaski explained to her,” from Captain Llewellyn.”
“He’s coming back?”
“Apparently so,” Sollik nodded,” although we have no idea why he wants all of us here.”
“I reckon he’s gotten us a new ship,” Jason theorized eagerly.
“The chances of that are pretty damn low,” Arden whispered, not wanting to get his hopes up, just to have them dashed by some inquest ruling. “I, for one, will be just as happy to get some answers on this… on our future.”
A communications panel behind Erica flared to life with an incoming call. She spun around, pressing the REPLY button.
“Starbase 499, this is Captain Ewan Llewellyn, please respond.”
“Captain Llewellyn, this is 499,” the Station Master acknowledged. “I’ve got an office full of your senior staff here, Ewan. Apparently, they’re all here at your request. Would you mind telling them, and me, why?”
“Get them to look out the window.”
Everybody did as they were told. For a moment, nothing happened. Space remained calm and still with Santrag II revolving away in the background… and then, with a bright flash and a loud crack, something dropped out of warp. It was small, sleek, punchy, both aggressive and inspiring at the same time. Jaws dropped when the realization of the moment set it. It was a starship, Norway-class, but slightly different… and better. The name on the saucer section caused spontaneous applause.
The USS Fortitude, NCC-76240-A gave all of them their answers without doing a thing.
The crew had a new home.
The End.