Star Trek: Fortitude
Episode Ten: ‘Command Decision’
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
Strawberry cheesecake was a little replicated taste of home.
Enjoying the last mouthful of his indulgence and savoring the memories of his childhood spent on the farm in Kentucky, Ensign Jason Armstrong opened his eyes to the laughter of his partner, Ensign Jim Morgan. They were seated in the Mess Hall after having skillfully managed to synchronize their duty shifts on the Bridge in order to spend lunch together. Swallowing his dessert, the young blonde operations officer frowned at his equally young Indian-American tactical counterpart.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are,” Jim grinned in reply, shaking his head. “You looked like you were enjoying that cheesecake far too much!”
“Are there any regulations against nostalgia that I’m not aware of?” he joked back in reply, his frown turning into a smile. “Because, if so … boy, am I in trouble…”
“You can say that again.”
Suddenly Jason’s attention shifted focus from his boyfriend’s dark eyes. Behind the yellow shoulders of Fortitude’s tactical officer, through the Mess Hall windows and out into the Santrag system beyond, something had just dropped out of warp. It caught the attention of a fair amount of other officers who were eating lunch, and soon a small crowd had gathered, pressing their noses up against the glass.
“Hello,” Jim Morgan observed, having turned around and walked over to the window. “What do we have here, then?”
It was a Danube-class Federation runabout and it immediately moved in an arc towards Starbase 499 with an almost rushed intent. Whoever was at the helm of the small vessel was obviously in some kind of hurry as the nacelles glowed fiercely, propelling the small craft through the stars at faster than was required speed. Aboard Fortitude, watching all of this unfold, those with a view of the new arrival began speculating instantly.
“Perhaps top brass?” one young crewman said.
“I think it’s a new delivery of another ship,” another crewman said. “I mean, 499 only has two old cruisers and the Steamrunner. Perhaps the runabout is for the Rear Admiral.”
Glancing at Jim with a mixture of excitement and concern, Jason simply stepped away from the window, collected his plate, and returned it to the replicator. When Jim joined him and they were both ready to head back to the Bridge, he observed the only solid fact about the visitor to the Santrag system.
“Somebody’s here from Earth and they’re not happy.”
ACT ONE
Captain’s Log, Stardate 49168.;
After a brief return to the Santrag system and Starbase 499, my crew and I are ready to get underway and continue our exploration of the Beta Quadrant. There is one final visit that I must pay to Rear Admiral Blackmore’s office before we depart the station. Apparently, he’s playing host to a visitor from Earth who has requested to meet with me. I just hope that this doesn’t take too long.
Erica Martinez was being professionally cool while she escorted Ewan Llewellyn to the Rear Admiral’s office. It was station policy despite the fact that the captain knew the way perfectly by now. The Latina Station Master still hadn’t resolved the small issue of her feelings towards him, and they hadn’t spoken outside of business since he had stood her up at Club 488 during that ghastly Romulan spy business. Yes, she understood why he hadn’t appeared, but still, the moment has passed and so now an uncomfortable silence reigned between them.
At least for her.
Ewan was blissfully unaware of her feelings towards him. Nodding a goodbye as she left him at Rear Admiral Blackmore’s door, he dismissed the odd look that he received in return and straightened the collar of his uniform before stepping inside.
“Ah, Ewan, there you are!”
Edward Blackmore already had a cup of coffee waiting for him. Accepting it with a smile, Ewan noted the absence of anybody else. Wasn’t there supposed to be…?
“Thanks, Boxer. Where’s this visitor at?”
“He’ll be along in a moment,” his commanding officer growled, scratching his grey beard and returning to his seat. “He disappeared on me, saying something about checking on a few manifests first. He’s a proper Starfleet Ambassador, Ewan. A bit on the grumpy side, but that’s no crime, thank goodness. He’s been given full autonomy by Starfleet Command, according to the PADD that he gave me, tying my hands almost immediately.”
“And you have no idea what it’s about,” the Welshman asked him, remaining on his feet for a moment. “And no idea why he wants to see me?”
“None,” was Blackmore’s apologetic reply. “I’m sorry, my friend. I’m as blind as a Tiberian bat.”
“You and me both, Boxer. I can’t think of anyone back on Earth who would want to chat with me, anyways. No family. All of my friends are on assignment… No, I’ve got nothing. I hope this isn’t serious.”
At that moment, the door chimed. Turning around as Blackmore barked for whoever it was to enter, Llewellyn was greeted by a stern and weathered face. The Ambassador was Human, almost sixty-five, or maybe even pushing seventy years of age. He had silver hair and an expression of great discontent. He had obviously lived his life and his age clearly showed it. Even his clothes were sedate and serious. Stepping into the office, he nodded at Rear Admiral Blackmore curtly before he turned towards the captain.
“Captain Ewan Llewellyn,” he began, “my name is Ambassador Charles Cooper.”
“Ambassador,” Ewan smiled, offering to shake his hand.
“Forgive me, but we have little time for niceties. I’m here to conduct an investigation into your competency as commander of the Fortitude, and suggest a suitable replacement to Starfleet Command.”
* * * *
“He’s WHAT?!” Valerie Archer exclaimed.
The senior officers of the Fortitude were all seated around the Briefing Room table. Llewellyn had called for an emergency conference immediately after returning from Starbase 499. Partly, the meeting was to carry out a request made by Ambassador Cooper and to vent out his own frustration and gain support from his crew. This accusation of incompetence coming from a high-ranking diplomat and Federation investigator was, to say the least, shocking. Despite this, he had managed to relay the facts to his officers who all displayed deep concern at this unexpected news.
“Starfleet is looking for someone to blame,” he sighed. “The fact that a Romulan deep-cover agent somehow managed to gain such a key position aboard my ship lands the blame squarely at my door.”
“Doctor T’Verra… I’m sorry, Naketha… fooled us all, Captain,” Lynn Boswell was quick to reply. She didn’t think that she would have been invited to a meeting of the Senior Staff but here she was. She was glad since she had just received her accreditation from Starfleet Medical, making her an actual doctor. “I worked with the woman for ages and I didn’t even notice a thing! If anyone is going to be investigated, it should be me!”
“That’s why I called all of you together,” he revealed to them. “The ambassador wants to speak with all of you in turn. I’m ordering you to give him your full cooperation. I’ve seen the orders from Starfleet Command. I’m afraid that they’re not taking sides, which is both a blessing and a curse. Meanwhile, the ambassador… Well, let’s just say that I get the distinct impression that he’s out for blood.”
“This is bloody ridiculous, Captain!” Ensign Armstrong said, raising his voice in anger, his young temper getting the better of him. “We all know the tricky situation that we were put in with the Romulans. Spies were all over the place! So they found one here! Big deal!”
“They can’t pin the blame on you, sir,” Jim Morgan added, half-defending his commanding officer and half-backing up his boyfriend’s outburst.
“Unfortunately, it looks like they can, everyone. That’s all. Our exploration mission has been put on hold, and we’re to remain in orbit of Santrag II while we’re all questioned. Arden, see to it.”
“Will do, Captain, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that slimy little--”
“No,” Ewan cut off the Bolian with a wave of his hand. “No discussion and no planning your answers. I want this to be as clean and as transparent as possible. No personal bias, either way. I’m confident that I’ll be cleared of all wrongdoing, but I want that clearance to come on the back of a fair investigation.”
“Yes, sir,” Vuro nodded, along with the rest of the senior staff.
“That’s a wrap, everyone. Dismissed.”
Everyone stood and started to leave the Briefing Room. Chief Engineer Sollik was the last person to rise from his seat. He had been silent during the entire meeting and before he was able to get anywhere near the exit, Ewan called out to him and stopped him in his tracks. The Suliban tilted his head in a wordless inquiry.
“I know that you find my command style to be lacking in some places,” Ewan managed to say, forming his words with care. “Please, if the ambassador asks you anything, tell the truth. Whatever the truth may be.”
“Is that an order or a plea, Captain?”
“Does it have to be the former?”
“No. Your desire for justice is well-placed. I’ll speak my mind.”
Llewellyn frowned before he realized that was an external visual signal and forced himself to stop. He was wondering whether Sollik would help or hinder his case. The answers to his questions were cryptic and he was clever not to give any stance away. They weren’t blatant, not like the outburst from the rest of his senior officers, but at the end of the day, the truth mattered and he had just promised to uphold the truth. That would do for now.
“Thanks, Commander. You’re dismissed.”
ACT TWO
It was the next morning when the topic came up again.
Sollik was lying prone on his back, engrossed in fiddling around with an EPS relay underneath the main pad of Transporter Room One when he heard the door swish open. He barely had any time to glance out from underneath his work before a familiar voice called out. It was the voice of the only person aboard that he truly considered a friend.
“Lost something?” asked Lieutenant Vuro.
“Only my sense of motivation,” the chief engineer hissed back, getting to his feet and wiping the sweat from his scales. “What brings you here?”
“Oh, no you don’t. Back up a second. Your sense of motivation. What did you mean by that?”
“Nothing, really,” Sollik lied.
“Yeah, sure, and I’m here to beam a charitable Ferengi aboard. What’s bothering you, seriously? Is it this investigation thing? I would have thought that you of all people would be glad to see the back of Captain Llewellyn.”
“That’s just it,” the Suliban protested. “I’m not sure that I am anymore! Initially, yes, I was worried. Now, after what this ship has been through in such a short time, I’m reluctant to point fingers.”
“I know,” Vuro nodded, perching himself down on the edge of the transporter pad. “Have you decided on what you’re going to tell the ambassador when he questions you? You’re probably high on the list, given your previous stance.”
“Therein lies my problem. Do I tell the truth, list the errors that I’ve noticed, or do I remain loyal? Who knows if a new captain will be better for us?”
“That’s nonsense and you know it!”
“I guess we’ve answered the mystery of what you’ll be saying.”
“Absolutely, and it didn’t take getting locked up in an alien prison with him to make me realize just what an excellent officer that he is, either.”
“Why are you down here, anyways?” growled Sollik, changing the subject.
“A friend of mine over on 499 had finally managed to procure some fresh acid snakes from Bolarus and they’re about to beam them over for him. I was hoping to find the transporter operational, but I could always walk over to Transporter Room Two if you’re in the middle of something important here.”
“No, just a little fine-tuning, nothing special. Go ahead. I’m done anyway.”
The chief engineer moved around the helmsman but as it was becoming a regular thing for him, he stopped before he could leave by a final shot containing words of attempted wisdom.
“Just be fair,” Arden told him. “Remember the good as well as the bad.”
“Didn’t the Captain order us to keep quiet about this investigation anyways?” retorted the Suliban, frustrated more by his own inner conflict than his friend’s admittedly sage advice. “Hurry up and transport your snakes before I change my mind and take apart the entire transporter pad.”
* * * *
Sure enough, when Sollik returned to his quarters that evening, his monitor flashed with an incoming communications signal from a private office aboard Starbase 499 and it was encoded private. The ambassador was starting his rounds and he was starting with the man who was most likely to deliver a damning condemnation of Captain Llewellyn.
Taking a moment to get comfortable, he tapped the receiver control and was greeted by the head and shoulders of the elderly Human. “Lieutenant Commander Sollik,” crackled the speaker,” my name is Ambassador Charles Cooper, although I imagine that you already knew that. You should also be aware of why I’m calling you?”
“Ambassador. Indeed, I am aware.”
“Analysis of certain logs, most notably your engineering reports, show a certain lack of faith in the command abilities of Captain Llewellyn. I was hoping that you would shed some light on that perspective for me.”
“Anything to help with your investigation, Ambassador.”
This was it.
This was the moment of decision.
He had spent all day with it on his mind. Thinking back, he remembered the several encounters he had with Llewellyn during his time on board. Those early battle drills had driven him insane and caused him an injury. They had been, in his eyes, completely unrequired. The more important issue at that time had been the state of the ship when it had been pushed out of Spacedock early to meet the distress call from Starbase 499. The captain had put his eagerness to win over the safety and efficiency of his own vessel. Did that make him unfit to command? Sollik couldn’t decide so he moved on.
Next came the fiasco with the USS Steamrunner. It had been almost like his pet science project with no actual grasp on the reality of the task of retrofitting an entire ship to Starfleet operational parameters. People had lost sleep, worked double shifts, going above and beyond the call of duty to give the Santrag system ‘teeth’. Sollik thought that it had been selfish, since Llewellyn wanted to start exploring and he didn’t want the guilt of leaving a defenseless starbase behind. Foolish, and yet, the morality behind the move was commendable. His heart, the Suliban thought, was in the right place.
There had been moments of excellent command skills and sheer cunning that he couldn’t argue about. The trick with the Klingon who tried to annex Santrag II after the troubles flared up again had bordered on genius. Sollik had heard from some of the crew over on 499 about how the captain had come face-to-face with the boy and given him a verbal disciplining. Yes, he was clever with words.
Clever with tactics, though?
Sollik remembered back to a certain chase involving a robotic probe belonging to the End. With absolutely sheer bloody-minded determination and no comprehension of the madness of his orders, Llewellyn had taken Fortitude into a dense asteroid field and risked his death and the death of his crew for… well, for what exactly? Nobody would ever know. The probe had been ancient. What if it had never transmitted anyways? What if it had never made it? It had been one hell of a risky gamble, and Sollik was sure that he would have played it differently. Was he in a position to make such judgements? He was the Chief Engineer, nothing more.
Suliban hadn’t always been loyal. He remembered his early history lessons at Starfleet Academy, remembering the shame of learning about the old Cabal from the 22nd century and thinking about how backstabbing and wicked they had been.
Perhaps that was his choice after all?
Or was he more traditional? Would he drive the knife into the captain’s back?
“So, tell me about the battle drills that you were forced to undertake while en route to the Santrag system on Stardate 48531.2,” Ambassador Cooper asked him. “I understand that you wound up in Sickbay, thanks to the captain’s persistence?”
Clearing his throat, Sollik answered the question.
ACT THREE
“They promised me that this wouldn’t happen.”
Rear Admiral Blackmore was growling again after spending his time figuratively sitting on his hands. Ewan silently lifted his head in a weak nod. He was back into the office on Starbase 499 after a little more than an hour’s sleep. Once more, coffee was in his grip and he couldn’t bring himself to set the cup down, cradling it like a mother cradles her newborn child. It was his lifeline. It kept him alert. He could almost feel the caffeine running through his veins.
“Starfleet, I mean,” Blackmore continued, now on auto-rant. “We’re too far removed from the central core of the Federation and far removed from the politics that matter. That’s what I was promised, that this wouldn’t happen. Santrag II is my little corner of space, damn it! I don’t need some jumped-up ambassador to come in here and start messing up the ranks! I really don’t!”
“You and me both, Boxer.”
“Listen, my friend, I know I was a little hesitant that you even come out here, but you and your crew have proven yourselves to be my kind of people. I can’t think about what I’d do without you here. Whatever the outcome of this is, I’ll fight your corner.”
“Thank you,” the captain said, smiling at the rear admiral. “That’s very appreciated.”
“Besides, who else am I going to take to the cleaners over the poker table if you get dragged back to Earth on some idiot charges?”
“Oh, I get it. It always comes down to cards with you, doesn’t it? Funny, though… Everything’s a game, isn’t it? Starfleet, missions, life… It’s all one giant game. Play one hand and you could get lucky, but play another one and it’s game over. Career-wise or even literally -- death, Boxer, from where there are no second chances. The ultimate endgame.”
“That’s awfully morbid and realistic for 0800, Ewan.”
“Then today is awfully morbid.”
* * * *
Sollik entered Main Engineering in good spirits. He had managed to catch his usual eight hours of sleep, unlike his captain, and ate breakfast, happy and content in what he had chosen to say to Ambassador Cooper the night before. Walking past the swirling blue mass of energy dancing around the central column of the warp core, for the first time, his yellow eyes actually registered how satisfying it was to behold. He didn’t notice the looks that he was getting from his engineering teams, the wondering and the doubt.
What had he done?
They couldn’t ask him but they wanted to. Had he betrayed the captain in his answers or saving his career?
There was no way of knowing.
* * * *
Ambassador Charles Cooper entered Blackmore’s office on Starbase 499 in anything but good spirits. He looked tired, frustrated, and crestfallen. His already aged features appeared as though they had aged even more in the space of twenty-four hours. Llewellyn tried his best to conceal his shock as he stood up and finally set down his coffee.
“Ambassador,” the Rear Admiral growled. “Care to sit down?”
“I’m not staying,” he snapped out a short reply. “Please tell your people to have my runabout ready for departure within the hour.”
“I take it that you’ve reached a conclusion?”
It still wasn’t certain for Llewellyn. He could be leaving because he had found what he needed to convict him of incompetence. He could be returning to Earth to submit a formal request for a court martial and to let the Admiralty at Starfleet Headquarters know that they should strip the four pips from Ewan Llewellyn’s collar.
There was another possibility.
He could be returning to Earth in disgrace, having failed completely in his quest for a scapegoat. Perhaps Naketha’s infiltration of Fortitude had nothing to do with her crew or her captain. Ewan knew that to be true but there could be no ‘perhaps’ about that one.
“My investigation into the conduct of Captain Llewellyn had been inconclusive to the point of defeat,” revealed the ambassador, his anger evident in his face. “I have no evidence to suggest that the success of the Romulan deep-cover operative known as Naketha had anything to do with any incompetence of the USS Fortitude crew or, in particular, her commanding officer.”
Llewellyn let out a deep breath that he felt like he had been holding in for hours. Smiling, he turned towards Blackmore, who simply winked at him reassuringly.
However, Cooper wasn’t finished.
“I don’t know what you’ve bribed them with, Captain,” he snarled at him. “Extra duty shifts off, extra holodeck time? Never in all of my years have I ever come across such a young crew following their captain so blindly! It’s impossible to even consider that such a relationship could have even been forged so quickly! Even that blasted chief engineer of yours, damn him! How did you get to him? What did you do?”
“Excuse me?” gasped the Rear Admiral, surprised by the wild accusation.
“Come on, off the record,” pressed the ambassador. “How did you do it?”
Stepping forward with purpose, Ewan moved up right in front of that elderly face glaring back at him, clearing his throat on the way. It was time for his parting shot, and to finally put this nonsense behind him. In a way, his entire captaincy had been brought up for scrutiny with this investigation and the result was that he passed. It not only filled him with pride in his ship and crew, but also relief. His own self-doubt about being relatively young for the command chair had been cleared and pushed aside. Returning the stare, he placed a hand on the ambassador’s shoulder and leaned in close to his ear.
“You really want to know how I did it?” he whispered.
A short nod in reply.
“I picked a bloody good crew and I’m a bloody good captain.”
Cooper’s face fell in disappointment and rage.
“Your runabout’s waiting for you, Ambassador. Do have a safe trip, won’t you?”
In a whirl of failure, the old man departed the office, leaving Llewellyn and Blackmore standing alone, overlooking the gorgeous planet below. With his little performance over, the Welshman found himself getting somewhat emotional.
It was true.
It had been an evaluation of his command and his crew had supported him to the last. Even Sollik had praised him! Blinking away a small tear, he flashed a grin at the Rear Admiral. In response, Blackmore produced a deck of cards from behind his desk.
“What will the game be, my friend?”
EPILOGUE
He rarely went into Engineering. He rarely ever had a reason to.
Stepping through the huge entrance and faced with the impressive sight of Fortitude’s beating heart, so to speak, Ewan was largely ignored. His ship and crew were preparing to depart from Starbase 499 and embark upon another foray into the unknown reaches of the Beta Quadrant, and they all knew not to stand on ceremony. Besides, he wasn’t there in an official capacity. Moving through all of those yellow-shouldered uniforms, he found who he was looking for and leaned against a bulkhead with a smile.
“Captain!” Sollik exclaimed, noticing him after a moment.
“Calm down. This isn’t an inspection,” he assured him. “I just thought I’d come down here and say thanks in person.”
Sollik was tempted to play dumb and ask the obvious question, but he knew exactly what he was referring to. It would have been a useless waste of time, and he had work that he had to be getting on with. The Suliban simply shrugged, noting the boyish glint in Ewan’s eye and decided not to present an opportunity for wisecracks.
“I just told the truth, sir,” he said, sincerely. “I would have made a few decisions differently, of course, but I’m not the captain. You are, and you’ve done what you felt was best for this crew since the beginning. For that, you should not be punished.”
“When can we get underway?” Ewan asked, inwardly beaming with pride at Sollik’s open and honest reply.
“Right on schedule, Captain. As I think you Humans put it, all systems are go.”
“Well then, I don’t think I need to hang around here any longer.”
“It would be a terrible waste of your time, sir. Don’t make me file an official complaint about an inefficient amount of senseless chatter in the workplace.”
Ewan grinned.
Finally the banter that he wished for.
The End.