The Undiscovered Country

Posted on Oct 30, 2014 @ 3:50pm by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Edited on on Oct 30, 2014 @ 3:51pm

Mission: Birth Of An Empire

"THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY"

(Continued from "Those We Left Behind"

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Location: USS PHOENIX
Stardate: [2.14]1029.1815
Scene: Captain's Ready Room


For once, Michael Turlogh Kane was not the last to arrive at a meeting in his own ready room. Drake and Aerdan followed him in moments later. They were in conversation about something, and Kane quickly realised it was the upcoming wedding.

"I was just asking Commander Jos if he knew who the best man would be," said Drake.

"I think it likely to be Lieutenant Arion," said Aerdan. 'He is, after all, the only other Trill aboard."

"Has Lieutenant Arn decided yet?" asked Drake.

"Not that I know of."

"Gentlemen," said Kane with a smile, "this is not a soap opera in space. Shall we move on to more important things?"

Aerdan and Drake sat down in what were becoming their usual seats - Aerdan at the desk opposite Kane, and Drake on the couch along the side wall. The ready room was unadorned with any decoration - simple, functional, devoid of character. With no time to make his mark in it, Kane was having to make do.

"Captain," said Drake, "I was wondering if you think you should inform the crew of what is going to happen on Limbo." He said it matter-of-factly, like he was talking about something on a timetable, but the sheer thought of what was waiting scant days ahead made Kane shiver.

To buy time, he said "What do you two think?" Even now, even after Drake had told him that there was no way out, that Kane's death was a nineteen-year-old memory for him, Kane still thought about it like it was going to happen to someone else. Those moments when he did allow himself to realise that it was going to happen to him, were moments of abject primordial terror. When he was a child, he often thought that he would like to know when he was due to die, so that he could see it coming, make peace with it, but now he wasn't so sure. Now, it pulled at his heartstrings every waking moment. You're doomed. You're a walking dead man.

Aerdan didn't answer, but Drake did. "I think there are positives to be seen. If you inform your senior officers, then it will not be a shock to them when it happens. There is nothing happening aboard ship right now, therefore any disruption to their work will be mitigated if you tell them now."

"If we tell them that, then we'll have to tell them that you're from nineteen years in the future," said Aerdan. "It's one thing to know that they are fighting for their lives against a force who wants to kill them, but another thing entirely to know that this was all preordained."

"I think people are already wondering who I am," countered Drake. "Tell me something, Captain Kane. Are you afraid of the future?"

"I'm afraid of dying, yes."

"You shouldn't be. This time around it will be different. Your death at the hands of Rawyvin Seth will spur Selyara to join us. In six months there won't be a single Neo-Essentialist in the fleet. Give those circumstances, would you not rather make the sacrifice?"

"It's not that simple, Drake. Nobody is so selfless as to give up their very life without a second thought. Now, that doesn't mean they won't do it, only that they'll fight hard for another way."

"There is no other way, Captain Kane."

"So you keep saying." Kane paused for a moment. "In Shakespeare's play, when Hamlet talks about the undiscovered country, he's not talking about the future. He's talking about death and whatever happens after it, how nobody ever comes back from it. But at that point in the play, he's already a little half-cocked. He's forgotten that he has already spoken to the ghost of his father, who told him about his uncle's treachery. Somebody has come back, only he's too blind to see it. So there's always a way out. There's always something you haven't thought of yet."

"Hamlet died in the play anyway, Captain."

"True enough, and maybe I'll die too. But that doesn't mean I won't stop looking for a way to circumvent it. Thus conscience does make cowards of us all."

They were quiet for a few moments, then, and Kane watched them both looking at the floor, lost in their own thoughts. What must it be like travelling with a dead man walking, he wondered. But for Drake it must be especially easy to be detached, to view whatever was happening through the great prism of history and think no more of it. But, Kane thought angrily, it's happening to me. How can I mourn for a life that isn't over yet?

"I won't be pitied," he said aloud. "We tell the crew nothing."

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Location: Romulan Star Outpost 6
Scene: Conference Room


Admiral Delora Radaik, flanked by her attendants and the mandatory Tal'Shiar agent, stode into the conference room, ready for whatever was going to happen. New orders had come through to her two days ago, pulling her battlegroup off the Neutral Zone picket and ordering her to report to Star Outpost 6. It was common knowledge that an offensive against the Federation was underway, and Radaik supposed that she was about to be ordered to lead a fleet of her own.

It was no small reward, and not before time, she mused. Eight years ago she had destroyed the Klingon barbarians in the Battle of Prygus, which had ensured her promotion from Commander to Admiral. As her star in the Imperial Navy waxed, she had been appointed to command the Valdore B-type battleship "War Hawk". A few more years of this, and it was a senatorial career for her. She would start off small, as a tribune, then work her way up the ranks until she was a consul.

It helped that she had many hangers-on, who could recognise a rising star when they saw one. There were songs about the Battle of Prygus, and there was a burgeoning personality cult around her that emphasised and accentuated her faithfulness to her people, her skill as a naval commander, and her implacable opposition to anything over than the state-sanctioned version of the Romulan Way.

Commander Storean, the Praetor's personal envoy, got to his feet quickly when she entered. "Admiral Radaik," he said, bringing his right fist up diagonally over his heart. "The Senate and People of Romulus salute you."

Radaik nodded. The Praetor's personal envoy meant only one thing. An important mission that she could expect to be rewarded handsomely for. "I come to serve the people," she said, taking her seat while her senior officers gathered around her in a flock.

Storean sat down, withdrew a small personal datapad from his cloak, and passed it across the table. Radaik picked it up and passed it to a member of her staff without looking at it. Psychology was the most important weapon in politics. "Must I read it or can you tell me yourself?" she asked.

"The Praetor sends his personal greetings, and furnishes you with a copy of an intelligence report from our operatives on Terra," said Storean. "A new Federation starship has been launched by Starfleet. It is more advanced than anything they have constructed in the past, using elements of technology engineered from captured Dominion starships. It is named Phoenix."

"Interesting. An almost Romulan name. Is it bound for the front?"

"Not that we can tell. There have been no signs of its passing towards the former Neutral Zone, and our contacts inside Klingon space report nothing."

Radaik steepled her gloved fingers. "What does this have to do with my battlegroup?"

"That is what I am here to tell you. Your battlegroup is being reassigned to the front. We have a special mission for the War Hawk."

"I see." Inside, Radaik was seething. Taking away her battlegroup drastically reduced any political leverage she might have. "What is this mission?"

"The Tal'Shiar have drawn up numerous scenarios regarding the Phoenix's destination," said Storean. "Based on certain events now underway within the Federation government, they consider it likely that the Phoenix is making for the Triangle."

Radaik scoffed. "To what end? The war is parsecs away."

"If the independent worlds in the Triangle were to be rallied to the Federation cause, the Empire would be facing a flank attack that would postpone ultimate victory. We have decided that the Empire will display its strength. If the Federation is dispatching its most powerful warship to the Triangle, then we will counter with our own. You are to take the War Hawk into the Triangle, locate the Phoenix, and counter any attempts it makes to drum up support for the Federation's war effort."

"And how certain are you that that is the mission of the Phoenix?"

Storean looked mournful. "We are not certain. It is somewhat of a mystery as to why the Federation has not sent the Phoenix to lead the remains of her former Neutral Zone fleet. In any case, the datapad I gave you contains all the information we have on it, including its weapons and shield capabilities. I warn you, it is an impressive weapon of war."

"So is the War Hawk. Am I authorised to destroy the Phoenix?"

"Yes, if necessary. The Triangle is not a war zone, but as always, the Empire reserves the right to act anywhere its interests are threatened."

"That is all the information I require," said Radaik, standing up. "I will depart as soon as possible."

"I will inform the Praetor. He will be watching your mission with interest."

Radaik knew what that meant. Still, it was not the first time someone had told her to succeed or die, and she was still alive. She saluted once, turned and was gone.

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Location: USS Phoenix
Scene: Main Engineering


When Kane found him, Jake Crichton was up to his eyeballs in isolinear chips and lying on his back in a small access tunnel under the anti-matter injector. The engineer's eyes were framed by dark rings and shot through with bloody welts. He smelled of stale sweat and the overall he was wearing was dirty with grime. He looked like one of his own technicians, not the head of a department.

Kane leaned down on his haunches and wait until Jake saw him, which he did when he next looked away from the ODN conduit he was working on. "Captain!" he exclaimed.

"At ease, Mister Crichton," said Kane. "What are you working on?"

"Maintenance," said Jake. His brow was furrowed like he had a bad headache. "Normally this would be on the roster for one of the engineering hands to do, but..." His voice trailed off.

"Yes, we're severely short-staffed," said Kane. He picked up a random chip and studied it. "When we get to Limbo, we'll see about taking on a crew. As many as we can get. Take the load off your shoulders."

"That'd be great."

Kane put the chip down again. "You've been working eighteen-hour days all week, Mister Crichton. If we had an operating authority I'd put you in for a medal. You kept us alive back in K-60, and you're doing it again here."

"Part of the job, sir."

Kane made a non-committal hum. "In fact, I have an engineering problem of my own that I need you to take a look at personally."

Jake didn't flinch. "Yes, sir. Soon as I finish this."

"No, I'm afraid it can't wait," said Kane. "Are you familiar with the holodeck on deck nine? It's close to your quarters, I believe."

Jake was frowning. "They're all offline."

"This one isn't," said Kane, looking at another chip absently. "It's been activated by the commanding officer of the ship and has been reserved for the use of one Commander Jacob Crichton."

"Sir?"

Kane put the chip down. "We're less than a week away from Limbo. The engines are working fine, everything else is small change. You're exhausted, Mister Crichton, and I don't want any of my senior officers fighting their own fatigue as well as a new ship. You're excused from duty for three days. Let Lieutenants Rochemonte and Warren take up the slack. Get some sleep, take your children to the holodeck. Report back to Engineering prior to our arrival at Limbo."

"Captain, I can't just - "

"That's an order, Commander." Kane extended a hand. "Help you up?"

It was like weeks of tension were draining out of Jake, and he took the proferred hand gladly. "Best news I've heard all day," he said, getting to his feet.

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NRPG: Moving things along... you might remember Admiral Radaik from the earlier post "From The Ashes, Part I". Foreshadowing!


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX


"... the dread of something after death, the undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
no Traveler returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have, than fly to others that we know not of..."
- Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1

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