Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Five, Episode Seven - “The Good Fight, Part One”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
Arden Vuro cowered as the cloud of debris showered his bald head.
Deafened by the sounds of rumbling artillery, the Bolian helmsman felt a sudden pang of empathy with those who had fought and died in the various ground assaults that made up the terrible history of the Dominion War. Such war zones were not places that could be easily forgotten. He wished he could forget this place. Alas, he was part of it now. It wasn’t his history yet. It was his present and he had to fight.
With his rugged combat boots digging into the dust, he hauled himself away from the shelter and took wild aim with the ugly plasma rifle that he wielded. If given half a choice, he would have discarded the rifle. It was a brutal thing with a complete lack of a stun setting. The shots that hit their targets caused ghastly wounds that proved to be fatal anywhere between a second and an hour, depending on which part of the target was hit.
Arden would have traded anything for a Starfleet-issue phaser. Anything with a stun setting or anything to keep himself from taking any lives. Sure, they were twisted and misguided. Some of them were even lives with pure unforgivable evil, but they were lives all the same.
Leaping across the ruins of the town, with rubble attempting to trip him over as his athletic legs stormed forward, he sent three rounds of deadly plasma energy towards the nearest gathering of enemy soldiers. It was laughable to call them soldiers. They were people without honor, rank, and not adverse to committing severe war crimes that showed that they were entirely devoid of morality. No… they were the enemy, plain and simple.
Vuro had to believe in what he was doing. It would keep him sane. When all was said and done here, he wanted to return to the helm of Fortitude with a level head and a newfound appreciation of his career.
Ah, Fortitude… his life as a Starfleet lieutenant. How he had missed it already.
Narrowly avoiding the returning fire, he slammed himself back down into the dust and broken remains of the town’s clock tower. The broken face of the timepiece provided temporary cover from the battle. Arden gratefully used the seconds to gulp a few mouthfuls of air and found himself pondering just how he had gotten here.
How had he landed himself in this mess?
Why was he fighting this fight?
ACT ONE
TWO DAYS EARLIER.
“Ah, Lieutenant, please take a seat.”
There was only mind confusion present on his blue face. Doing as suggested, Arden carefully placed himself at one end of the Observation Lounge’s table and cast his eyes over the occupants at the other end. Captain Llewellyn was joined this morning by somebody that the helmsman had never seen before. He was obviously from the surface of the Class-M planet that Fortitude was currently orbiting. Keveshi VI was the latest addition to the First Contact registry for this part of the Beta Quadrant. They had been here for a lengthy two weeks already, meaning that he had spotted a few Keveshians wandering the corridors of the Norway-class starship.
“This is Chancellor Ravka,” Ewan introduced. “Chancellor, this is Lieutenant Arden Vuro, my helmsman and friend of almost five years.”
Vuro nodded politely towards the visitor who returned the gesture. The Keveshians were a stately race. Their average height seemed to be a few inches taller than the average crew member aboard Fortitude. Otherwise, they looked more or less like Humans… that was, except for the eyes. Just above the usual pair, squarely in the center of their foreheads, another pair of eyes blinked away. He could only imagine what looking through them would be like. Such was his reason for being out here, seeing new sights and meeting new people.
“Arden,” Ewan continued with little pause,” I’ve called you in here for a very special and important mission. As you know, since the end of the Dominion War, the Federation had been eager to accept new members. Our First Contact with the Keveshians has gone so well that I’ve received permission from the Federation Council to begin a survey. We are to assess the potential membership status of Keveshi VI.”
“That’s excellent news,” the Bolian grinned.
“It would be,” the stern tone of Chancellor Ravka reverberated,” were my people not suffering from a political crisis of confidence!”
“I don’t quite follow -- “
“Let me explain the situation,” offered the Captain, moving to the halfway point of the Observation Lounge and resting himself on the table’s shining surface. “There is a faction of dangerous insurgents causing political heat on Keveshi VI. They've seized four major towns near the capital through brutal oppression and highly illegal means. Normally, it isn’t the policy of the United Federation of Planets to get involved in such turmoil and this is no different. However, the Chancellor, out of honesty, came to me this morning and told me all about the insurgency.
Arden nodded. This was all starting to make sense now. If Keveshi VI was welcomed into the Federation, only to be overrun by a radical group of revolutionaries, it would be a disgrace to a weakened and desperate Federation Council. Leaning back in his chair, the Lieutenant also drew parallels with events from his past. His actions on his own homeworld of Bolarus IX, came to mind, along with the current tension on Santrag II. it seemed that rising up against the government was becoming a running theme in his life.
“The assessment of Keveshi VI’s potential membership must include an assessment of these insurgents,” Llewellyn went on. “The Chancellor makes some serious claims against them. Claims that are rather horrific.”
“Such as?”
“They have no problems with using biogenic weapons but that isn’t the worst part of it. They enlist, brainwash, and fight using child soldiers. While the first point is enough to cause a gigantic legal and moral black home into which this entire assessment could vanish, the second is simply… well, I can tell from your reaction that you and I, Lieutenant, are on the same wavelength, correct?”
He was correct. Vuro’s blue hands were balled up into fists at the mere mention of using a fighting force that contained children. There was something about the concept that made his acidic blood rush at twice the normal speed. Noticing this reaction as well, Chancellor Ravka stepped forward to Ewan’s side.
“Federation membership could unify my people and stop this madness,” he pleaded in genuine desperation,” but our intelligence on the insurgents isn’t enough for your Captain’s assessment report. We require proof of their crimes.”
“Is this where I come in?,” Vuro asked.
“Yes,” Llewellyn replied quickly. “I’m going to give you a very unusual order. We need to place an operative inside the insurgency. To establish a workable cover would usually take months, but a recent counterattack against one of the insurgent camps robbed them of their more experienced pilot. They’re desperate for anybody with flying skills. We were hoping that means the door should be open enough for you.”
“Without wanting to be obvious,” the Bolian pointed out to them cautiously,” but I hardly think that I would blend into a crowd of Keveshian nationals.”
“Our spaceports are rife with insurgent recruitment centers,” Ravka was quick to respond. “The fact that you’re not Keveshian will not be a problem. From what my agents have been able to gather, the insurgents use mercenaries for certain jobs that don’t require a belief in their cause. A pilot is one of those jobs. Once you have proven your skills to one of their regional cell leaders, you’ll be useful.”
“I’m sorry, but your own agents… Why not use one of them?”
Ravka hung his head in shame.
“It would seem that the insurgency has supporters inside my government,” he whispered in embarrassed tones. “Recently, a list of our undercover agents was broadcast across the planet. It resulted in the cold-blooded public executions of thirty men and women.”
“Oh,” Vuro gulped,” great…”
“All I’m asking is that you get in there and establish that biogenic weapons and child soldiers are actual tactics of the insurgency,” Llewellyn concluded. “You’ll have six days to keep your cover and gather your proof. After that, we’ll automatically beam you back to safety. There will be no communication during those six days. Do you understand what this entails, Lieutenant?”
“I understand, Captain,” he answered immediately. “When do I leave?”
“You’re a good man, Arden,” Ewan smiled.
* * * *
“I’ll be keeping a constant lock on your biosigns,” Katherine Pulaski explained as her colleague mounted the transporter pad. Arden had abandoned his Starfleet uniform, going for a dirty-looking brown jacket that simply screamed ‘mercenary’ no matter what language that you spoke. He gave the Doctor a grateful little wave as she concluded her reassurance. “At the first sign of trouble, I’ll order you beamed up. Hopefully, this infernal contraption won’t bring you back inside-out.”
“Thank you,” said the Bolian confidently,” but with my luck, I’ll be returning in six days and your efforts will be for nothing.”
Lieutenant Commander Sollik had also dutifully shown up in the Transporter Room to bid farewell and good luck to his friend. If there was one thing that the Suliban respected, it was bravery. Bravery had once made him put aside his differences with a certain ensign long enough to wish him well. In this situation here, it just amplified the value of his friendship with the helmsman.
“Watch your back,” he hissed, his green scales morphing into a smirk.
“I always do,” Vuro nodded. “Okay, energize…”
ACT TWO
He materialized in the storage locker that he expected to.
Beyond the flimsy metallic door before him, Arden could hear the bustling sounds of the busiest spaceport on Keveshi VI. A myriad of species would greet his eyes with their various accompanying smells filling his nostrils already.
This was it.
There was no turning back, not at this stage.
There was no combadge on his person and no way of contacting his ship in orbit. Just Pulaski at a biosign monitor watching his general movements.
Well, this was certainly a challenge, wasn’t it? Vuro relished it, but above that, he relished the idea of scoring points against the hateful beings that would use innocent children as soldiers to fight in their cause.
Reaching the door’s handle, he paused. Slowly, he pointed the index finger of his left hand towards the ceiling. Dipping his bald head, he let the finger trace the bifurcating ridge split vertically from his forehead to his chin. He whispered a prayer from the teachings of the First Church of Bolarus IX as he went, his eyes screwed tightly shut. He was about to undertake the most dangerous assignment of his entire career. It didn’t hurt to make sure that the gods were on his side.
His eyes snapping back open, Arden pulled on the door.
The sensations of the spaceport instantly and relentlessly slammed into him.
Adopting an expression of pure wonderment, the helmsman couldn’t help himself. It was all so exciting for an explorer to walk through. Despite the easily forgotten duranium construct that surrounded the teeming variety of life, Arden thought that it was one of the most impressive sights that he had ever had the honor of seeing. There had to be upwards of fifteen different species, all of them occupying one and all of them, save for the native Keveshians, were completely unknown to the Bolian. He could have spent hours, just meeting and learning about aliens in this one boarding ramp… and he wanted to.
“Focus, Lieutenant,” he growled under his breath. “Not now!”
The expression had to change. It took a second to force it away from amazement and back into the easygoing, distant stare that he thought would be best suited for his character. For yes, when undercover, one played a role and his role was that of a mercenary pilot. Luckily, he never had the misfortune of meeting such an individual so he was forced to improvise.
After several minutes of strolling about, the improvisation seemed to work. He fleetingly made eye contact with a burly Keveshian.
That was all it would take.
* * * *
Seven hours. It had to be some kind of a record.
Within seven hours, Vuro was standing in a dirty, rundown bunker that was some fifty feet under the central plaza of an insurgent-held town. Either side of him snarled Keveshians of deep mistrust. They refused to stop glowering at him, fearing that even blinking would give the Bolian the instant that he needed to attack… If he wanted to attack, which they immediately suspected. The insurgency had been nearly crippled by agents of the government that they so reviled. This off-world hotshot could be anybody or working for anybody. For that reason alone, nobody blinked.
Passing under a dripping pipe and not caring for the substance that rolled down his armored shoulder, a towering Keveshian emerged from the dark recesses of the bunker and loomed over Vuro. without giving into the soul-crushing feat that danced a wicked dance through his intestines, the helmsman simply tilted his head accordingly and gazed with a deliberate lack of care at the obvious insurgent leader. Two Bolian eyes met four Keveshian ones and, for a good deal of time, nothing happened.
“You’re a pilot, yes?,” the leader finally demanded to know.
“That’s why I’m here,” Arden retorted. “I heard that you were looking for one…?”
“I’m Nakrava. I don’t recognize your species.”
“I’m Vuro, Arden Vuro, and I’m a Bolian. I’m a long way from home and let’s put it at that.”
“Ah, a drifter…?”
“I prefer mercenary but sure…”
Nakrava laughed. Much like Chancellor Rakva back in Fortitude’s Observation Lounge, the insurgent leader had a reverberating tone that echoed around the bunker and caused the tension level to lift slightly. As he laughed, he puffed up his impressive chest muscles as a sign of dominance. Playing it fast and loose, Vuro copied him, flexing his athletic form under his dirty jacket and getting attention for doing so.
“I like you, Vuro,” Nakrava admitted to him.
“Does that mean I’m hired?”
“Not as yet. You must be tested. I need to make sure that money is all that you care about from this venture. You see, my soldiers and I are fighting for a cause and we aren’t afraid to do anything to obtain our goal. Mercenaries are easy to use. They’re single-minded, simple to control… and effortlessly disposed of. I want you to remember that in case you have any untoward reaction to the test.”
“And what test would that be?”
“Follow me…”
Decaying as it was, the bunker had a launch bay. Boots thundering against the cold concrete floor, Nakrava marched Arden and his two guards into the center of it. Waiting for some unknown frontier to deliver her deadly payload, there was a Keveshian tactical dropship. She had seen better days with her hull plating having lost the war against rust, long ago, but she was worthy of flight… and probably not expected to return from the battlegrounds of the insurgency.
What was the point in keeping her repaired?
“Your test,” Nakrava announced dramatically, his arms sweeping wide,” and your first assignment, worth ten thousand credits if you should survive, is to fly this dropship to the town approximately eighteen eshni to the south. You’ll land, make sure she’s unloaded and return here. Do you think you can manage it?”
“Sure,” Vuro said, truthfully. “What’s this untoward reaction that you spoke of?”
“Many of our pilots dislike the nature of the cargo.”
“Really? Why?”
Nakrava answered by pressing the hatch release on the side of the dropship. With a sinister hiss of the hydraulics, the tarnished surface was flung aside, revealing a sight that nearly made Arden lose his cover completely. Seated in rows of then, adding up to a grand total of forty, were members of the insurgency fighting force. They swayed back and forth with a unison only achieved through constant brainwashing and blatant trauma, all of them clutching hideous plasma rifles like they were cherished toys. Each one of them stared blankly at nothing, their four round eyes glistening with unshed tears.
The oldest of them looked to be about sixteen years old. The youngest looked like they were only six.
Child soldiers… ready for combat.
ACT THREE
This was insanity! No way would he comply, his cover be damned!
Nakrava watched intently as Arden desperately weighed the situation in his mind. The helmsman had to make a call, and he had to make it quickly. It was difficult to think with the children seated before him, swaying in their brainwashed stupors, robbed of their childhood innocence, and sentenced to ridiculously premature deaths in a struggle that they never chose to join. Simply standing beside Nakrava made him feel physically sick. The bastard! How could he do this to children?!
He was abhorrent. His very existence offended Vuro.
Unfortunately, his very existence was the biggest problem.
“What’s the matter?,” the insurgent grunted at him.
“He’s weak,” one of the Keveshian guards spat out,” like the others.”
“Is this true, Vuro? Don’t you want those ten thousand credits?”
Blood money… That’s all that it was. Disgustingly corrupt, unfeeling blood money… The very thought of touching the credits made him recoil. He took a step back from the dropship, and a step back from Nakrava and the two guards. This entire mission was one bad idea. With these child soldiers, the Federation Council knew everything that it needed to know about the possible membership status of Keveshi VI. Any race that entertained such barbarism, and any government that allowed it to occur unchecked… No, this was wrong.
Arden found himself shaking his bald head in horror.
Nakrava pulled a disruptor pistol from his belt and leveled it at the Bolian. “You’re either flying this dropship out of here or you’ll be carried out in a body bag and left to rot in the streets as an example to our enemies. So many choices. What’s it going to be, my friend?”
“Friend,” he choked on the word. “How dare you?!”
“Wrong choice.”
It was at that moment that Fate decided to intervene. The easterly fortification of the bunker exploded.
* * * *
“I’m not interrupting, Captain?”
Ewan Llewellyn looked up to see Katherine Pulaski walk the length of the Observation Lounge towards him. With a shake of his head, allowing her to sit down beside him at the head of the table, he returned to the PADD that he had been studying. Out of curiosity, the doctor couldn’t help herself. Interrupting or not, she wanted to know what had the Captain shut away in here, cooped up for hours, separate from his crew. Gently, she leaned over just enough to catch the title of the article on display.
“Ancient Human history?”
“Oh, yes, sorry, Doctor. It’s just something that I was thinking about,” Ewan quickly apologized to her, turning on Pulaski and placing the PADD face down on the table. “Is there anything that I can do for you or…?”
It was too late. Kate scooped up the article and began to read aloud. “Sources from the period are quoted as saying, ‘In over twenty countries around the world, children are direct participants in war. Denied a childhood and often subjected to horrific violence, an estimated two hundred thousand to three hundred thousand children are serving as soldiers for both rebel groups and government forces in current armed conflicts’ … Human Rights Watch, July 2007…”
“It’s not exactly a glowing record of our people, is it?,” Ewan asked with a sigh.
“What did you expect to find?,” she asked him, bluntly.
“I don’t know… To travel the stars, Doctor, and still find examples of such moral corruption and brutality… I guess it comes as a shock to the system, especially given the world in which both of us grew up in.”
“It’s that world, Captain, which taught us to help those in need. We travel the stars because we have no more disease, no more famine, and no more excuses for such disgusting things as armies of innocent children. We forge alliances that work to eradicate those things from other worlds too so that they can benefit as we do. Look at this ship as an example. You’ve got a Suliban in Main Engineering who can perform all kinds of wonders because of a mistake in his people’s past!”
“I don’t see your point, Doctor,” Llewellyn admitted to her.
“You can’t run from history. Learn from it instead. Why your actions prove that you have. You wouldn’t have sent Arden down to Keveshi IV otherwise. You’re trying to stop several war crimes on a planet that we shouldn’t care about… but we do.”
In the moments of silent reflection that followed, the Welshman knew that his colleague made a strong and valid case. Perhaps it was just delving into the archives and finding evidence of Human hands sending Human children into battle that was responsible for his doubts. When Chancellor Ravka first came to him, two days ago, with the suspected reports of the insurgent tactics, his immediate reaction was to think of himself as never capable of such awful things. Now he felt guilty as though bearing the responsibility of Earth’s past on his shoulders. It made him want to join Arden on the surface.
Thinking of which, Ewan was about to ask Pulaski on his helmsman’s biosign status when the lights in the Observation Lounge dimmed and a shrieking klaxon pierced the otherwise calm peace of Fortitude.
They were on the Bridge in seconds.
“Report!”
“Captain, sensors show a massive ground offense on Keveshi VI,” Jason Armstrong called out from the operations console. “Chancellor Ravka’s forces have launched air assaults and deployed troops towards the insurgent towns. One of them is reading at Lieutenant Vuro’s location!”
What the hell was Ravka doing? He knew that Arden was down there!
“Get me the Chancellor!,” Llewellyn demanded.
“He’s not answering our hails,” Valerie Archer called out from one of the side stations along the starboard side of the Bridge. “All attempts to raise his office are being reflected back with an automated reply. It says that radio silence is to be maintained if the new beginning of action against the insurgency is to succeed!”
“New beginning… Curse him, he just couldn’t wait, could he?”
“What about Lieutenant Vuro?,” Jason asked him, wrought with concern.
“I’m still reading his biosign,” Pulaski answered quickly, her reactions sending her over to one of the science stations adjacent to Valerie’s communications panel. “Whatever he’s up to down there, he’s still alive and… Wait… Damn brainless technology! These sensors keep phasing in and out of definition! I’m losing him!”
“It’s interference from all of the plasma being thrown around,” Gabriel Brodie noted urgently from Tactical. “The whole area has become a sensor blindspot!”
“Can we beam him out?”
“No, Captain,” came the black man’s grave reply. “He’s on his own.”
EPILOGUE
Narrowly avoiding the returning fire, Arden Vuro slammed himself back down into the dust and the broken remains of the town’s clock tower. The broken face of the timepiece provided temporary cover from the battle. He gratefully used the seconds to gulp a few more mouthfuls of air and found himself pondering just what he had gotten into here.
How had he landed himself in this mess?
Why was he fighting this fight?
That was it. Because it was the right thing to do.
In the confusion that had descended over the insurgent bunker’s launch bay, Arden had overcome one of the Keveshian guards and stolen his bulky, ugly plasma rifle. It wasn’t the best choice of a weapon, of course, since it entirely lacked a stun setting… but it would have to do for now. Whoever was attacking the insurgents, he concluded that it was probably the government, showed no mercy.
Good for them.
The images of the child soldiers all lined up and ready for combat still haunted the Bolian’s mind.
Turning the plasma rifle around, Arden joined the battle against Nakrava’s men. Once more he picked himself up from behind cover and sprinted across the ruined town’s toppled buildings and dead structures. Along the way, he aimed and fired at any of the evil insurgents that he could see. Heavy artillery fire whistled overhead, blazing trails of fire through the evening sky. Screaming punctuated the warzone’s soundtrack of blasts, thuds, and splintering crashes.
Vuro just continued to run and shoot. Coming around a corner in a backstreet, his trigger finger suddenly froze.
A child who could be no older than ten faced him. He was shaking from the trauma of the battle, his young instincts telling him to run and hide but the twisted brainwashing of Nakrava and the insurgency forcing him to hold his ground… and keep the plasma rifle that he was holding aimed at Vuro’s chest.
Acting on adrenaline and instinct, the helmsman raised his own rifle.
What was he doing? It was a boy! Lower it!
For some gut-wrenching reason, his survival instinct wouldn’t let him.
“Listen to me,” he tried to beg the child,” you don’t have to do this. Come on, put down the rifle and I’ll get you out of here… Trust me, you’ll be safe. I’ll get you out of here… Please put it down… Don’t be afraid… please!”
Tears started to cloud his blue eyes. They were tears of a tragic realization.
Arden knew the child wasn’t going to comply.
One of them was going to shoot.
To be Continued…