So Be It

Posted on May 26, 2017 @ 12:43am by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane

Mission: In Place of God

"SO BE IT"

(Continued from "Space Graffiti")
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Captain's log,supplemental - with our gravitron beam struggling to hold it open, the collapse of the micro-wormhole is now imminent. When it is gone, our last link with the enigmatic aliens who have been trying to communicate with us will be gone...

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Location: USS Phoenix, holding station near micro-wormhole
Stardate: [2.17]0525.2045
Scene: Conference Room - Deck 1, saucer section


Michael Turlogh Kane looked at the flickering wormhole as his senior officers took their seats around the conference table. Its collapse was inexorably underway - the sizzling silver gravitron beam that was shining from the Phoenix's deflector dish was still there, but greater forces were now working on the wormhole. Something that was bending space-time out of shape was being acted against by all the power of quantum physics - the wormhole's radiation, accelerating out of control into the subspace realm it inhabited, was tearing its own structure apart. It was rapidly losing the ability to support itself, and would soon wink out of existence.

When it did, the data packets would be cut off. The alien intelligence on the other side of the wormhole would be cut off from contact. If the theorising being done by the crew of the Phoenix was in any way accurate, these 'first' contact' data packets were being sent out into the void by these aliens, who were at the point of imminent destruction from an enormous black hole about to engulf their homeworld.

It was sobering to think about. This alien species had sent images of themselves, of their homeworld, of their art, of their technology. They were obviously intelligent enough realise what was happening, and made a deliberate attempt to beam their desperate message through the wormhole - no signal emanating from their homeworld would survive the nearby presence of the enormous black hole.

Far shores. Distant lives. Kane looked out at the starfield, wondering at the secrets hidden beyond the range of their lights.

"Captain Kane?" The voice of Aerdan Jos brought him back to the real world. Around the table sat Aerdan, Cantor Von, and Jasmine Yu. Their final reports lay on the PADDs they were holding in their hands.

Kane sat down. "Sorry, Doctor. It's a little strange to have touched a world we will never be able to see." He indicated the PADDs. "Are we ready to dispatch a data packet of our own to Starfleet?"

Aerdan's antennae were slowly curling up and down, the way they did whenever he was concentrating on something. "Yes, sir. All the medical and scientific data we could accumulate is here. Their genetic code, their biology, the nature of their part of the universe - all of it."

Cantor Von showed Kane the screen of his own PADD. "Theories on their technological level, extrapolations and applications to their society. For such limited data, we've managed to construct an interesting database."

"A living document," remarked Jasmine. Her attention was fixed on the wild art of these mysterious people, who saw colours much richer and deeper than any humanoid eye. "If our observations about the situation they are in are accurate, then this might be the only record of their existence anywhere in the universe."

Nobody knew what to say, and Kane felt it too. There was something so plaintive about a cry from the dark. If there had been a way to respond, he might well have done so, despite there not being any way to confirm if the aliens were warp-capable and thus protect the Prime Directive. He tried to imagine the desperation of a people who, knowing their life-span to be finite, would seek out someone, somewhere, anywhere - even at the other end of a micro-wormhole - to make contact. Just to say, we were here. We lived and laughed and loved, and saw a palette of colours more beautiful than you can imagine. To us, the universe was wondrous. Our lives were precious. And before we go, before we are swallowed up by this oncoming darkness that will kill our lives and laughs and loves, we want to simply say hello, and to thank you for listening to our prayer.

Kane forced himself to focus. "Time to wormhole collapse?"

Cantor Von checked the chronometer. "Less than three minutes."

Kane got to his feet. "Stations."

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Scene: Bridge - Deck 1, saucer section


On the bridge, the other senior officers were at their stations. Cantor Von relieved Byte at Ops, and Kane joined Jake in the centre of the bridge. Jake was watching the main viewer, where the silver gravitron beam was now sparking on and off quickly, flickering like a guttering candle.

"Almost time," Jake remarked.

Kane nodded. He threw a quick glance around the bridge and spoke to everyone. "We don't know for sure who they were, what they were like, or whether they are alive or dead. We are not gods, but let us hope that their prayer is answered. If not, and if these are their last moments alive, let us remember them."

He gave it a moment, then touched Cantor Von's shoulder. The Betazoid manipulated his controls, disengaging and shutting down the gravitron beam.

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Scene: Phoenix exterior


The silvery gravitron beam flickered once, then disappeared, and when it did there was nothing to stop the death of the micro-wormhole. Microns wide now, there was enough energy left in its dissipating for one final flash of light, and then it was gone, winking out of existence like it was never there.

The violet nacelles of the starship Phoenix flared, and she turned on her axis, angling towards a distant point of light in the vast tapestry of night. Time stretched out as the starship stiffened perceptibly, inertial dampers kicking in to counter the enormous power building up in her warp core. Then, in a flash of violet light, she snapped forward and was gone.

In her wake, the silent emptiness surged softly back, a quiet wave on a sleepy seashore, wiping away messages in the sand.

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Location: Starbase 56, Romulan Neutral Zone
Scene: Admiral's ready room
Time Index: Several days later


Kane looked out at the gunmetal hull of the Phoenix as she lay berthed out in space. She was visible here from Admiral Stiles' office, one of four starships that he could see. The other - the starship Khopesh - was a Sabre-class destroyer that looked to have battle damage on its dorsal side. Several engineering shuttles were moving around its exterior, like flies swarming a piece of meat, and her silvery hull was tarnished and dull.

As he waited for Andrea Stiles, Kane folded his arms. The voyage here had been smooth, but the sectors of space that Starbase 56 controlled were not. Two years ago, after a provocation by a Neo-Essentialist squadron of Federation starships, the Imperial Romulan Navy had crossed the Neutral Zone. They came for blood, and they got it. Within a day of them crossing the border, Starfleet's Neutral Zone fleet had been destroyed or scattered, and eight-and-a-half thousand men and women from across the Federation were dead or missing. The powerful Valdore-B-class Warbirds, armed with lethal disruptors, plasma torpedoes, and the very latest kind of cloaking device, had cut through the Neutral Zone fleet like a phaser through butter.

Later, after Edgerton was dead and the Neo-Essentialists were finally defeated, it had come out that they had mismanaged Starfleet's Neutral Zone fleet for years, weakening pickets, taking front-line starships off patrol, and generally doing their traitorous best to hamstring Starfleet in this volatile area of space. The Romulans had bypassed Starbase 56 and gone on to begin the Siege of Bolarus, reducing that planet almost back to its Stone Age.

No longer. The Phoenix - the first true dreadnought in the Alpha Quadrant - was here to change the game. The Valdore-class Warbirds stood no chance against a weapon like the Phoenix, which could both absorb and dish out more punishment than the Romulans could give or take. The Phoenix and her crew had been tempered in the Battle of Earth, and had not been found wanting. Unlike the old Discovery, the Phoenix's design was flawless, and her heavy ablative armour glinted in the light of distant suns, giving her a menace. She was every bit a predator as the Romulan ships - Firebird against Warbird.

The senior staff of the Phoenix were scattered around Starbase 56 on twenty-four hours' shore leave, but there wasn't much to do around here. Starbase 56 was a military support installation, not a freeport like Gateway station. There were no promenades, no arboretums, and only the most basic of holosuites. Sure, there were bars and rec areas, but these were watched carefully by station Security. The Starbase itself was constructed along the lines of a large mushroom, with several stalks breaking off from the main stem. At the end of each stalk were several mooring berths for starships, and the head of the 'mushroom' was where Kane was now standing, lost among the thousands of lights that glinted from the giant space station. Over ten thousand Starfleet personnel worked and lived on Starbase 56, mostly Operations and Engineering staff, but the place also boasted an impressive command and control centre, befitting Starfleet's hub.

Outside, beyond the Phoenix's berth, lay Romulan stars. They were out there, lurking in the darkness of the long night.

The door hissed open and Andrea Stiles came in. Kane turned to face her. "Admiral."

"Captain Kane." Andrea Stiles was a black Human woman somewhere in her mid-sixties. Her voice was rich and commanding. Her cheekbones were high and tight, and her thick, wiry hair was cropped close to her scalp, making her look younger than her years. Kane had heard that she was a recent appointment to this position, charged by the Admiralty to reorganise Starfleet's presence around the Neutral Zone. Rumour had it that she had specifically requested that the Phoenix be dispatched to show the flag. "You've not been waiting long?"

"No, sir." The office was surprisingly small, and somewhat spartan. Kane liked that, and kept his own quarters much the same - no personal mementos, everything in its place, clean and impersonal.

Stiles joined him at the viewing port. She was a few inches shorter than Kane, and up close, he could see that one of her brown eyes was bionic. She gestured to the Phoenix's berth. "A fine ship, Captain."

Kane nodded. "And deadly. You should have seen us at Earth. We pulverised four Neo-Essentialist defence satellites single-handedly. The Phoenix is the finest ship in the fleet, and I have a crew to match it."

She looked at him sidelong. "A bold boast."

"It's not a boast, Admiral."

"Indeed? Well, out here you'll get a chance to prove it." She moved to her desk and activated the monitor. "Two hundred and eighteen Romulan starships besieged Bolarus. Of that number, a quarter were Valdore B-types. When they packed up and went home, that entire number simply cloaked and disappeared. We had no idea they had so many capital ships along our frontier."

Kane turned to face her. "The Romulans have been quiet since then, correct?" While the Siege of Bolarus was at its height, the Phoenix was in the Triangle, trying to get their hands on Selyara, who had gone to ground in ancient space station called Limbo. The Phoenix was trailed there by a Warbird under the command of Delora Radaik, a senior Romulan admiral and the woman who had obliterated the Klingons at the Battle of Prygus fifty years ago. It was the half-century anniversary of that battle this year. Delora Radaik had listened to the news of the Neo-Essentialist coup of the Federation, then returned home with a mission to persuade the Romulan Senate to pull back their fleet. She had obviously succeeded, or Kane and Stiles would not be having this conversation right now.

"Right." Stiles activated a holographic display of the Romulan side of the Neutral Zone. Sickly green icons represented squadrons, listening posts, shipyards. "These are the last known deployments of the Romulan starships. On their way back through our space, they destroyed as many of our listening posts and automated sensor buoys as they could. It's set our intel back by nearly three years."

Kane shook his head grimly. "We may as well be fighting blind, Admiral."

"We don't want to fight, if we can help it," said Stiles. "Captain Kane, while you were en route here, the Federation Council authorised me to transmit a message to the Romulan side of the Neutral Zone, calling on the Romulans to officially restore the Treaty of Algeron and make the peace again between us. I sent that message yesterday, a blanket transmission across four Romulan sectors."

"I see." Kane realised Starfleet's strategy. "And that's why the Phoenix is here? We ask for the peace with one hand on the sword?"

"Got it in one, Captain." Stiles gestured out to the alien stars. "There's simply too much we don't know about the Romulans, and our information goes obsolete surprisingly quickly. Fifty years ago they slaughtered the Klingons and beat them off the stage of history. They're strong, Captain Kane, maybe stronger than us, and we simply cannot take the chance that they are not preparing another offensive against us at this moment in time." She touched a control, and a list of starships appeared, scrolling up the screen. "On paper, I have a Neutral Zone fleet. I have two hundred starships of my own ranged across fifteen sectors. I have hundreds more automated listening posts under construction, but it will be months before I have a fully functioning sensor network, and my two hundred starships are mostly battle-damaged hulks like the Khopesh. We *need* the Phoenix, Captain Kane. We need you to hold the line with your guns while the diplomats make the peace with their words."

"Understood, Admiral. We go where you need us."

Stiles nodded. "Return to your ship, Captain. Your orders will be transmitted to you within the hour. You'll leave dock in the morning. Good luck out there, and keep the flag flying."

Kane stood to attention for a moment before turning on his heel. Saluting was outmoded in Starfleet, but he didn't need to do that to realise the gravitas of the situation. The Neutral Zone was in an uneasy peace, but the Romulans were watching, and waiting, for something. If they chose to begin a war with the Federation now - a real war - they would be unstoppable, and the fate of the Klingons and their shattered empire would be transplanted onto Earth, Vulcan, Andor, Tellar and any number of other worlds across the Federation. Admiral Stiles was right - the line had to be held.

Outside her office, in the Ops pit of the Starbase, Kane touched his communicator. "Kane to Crichton."

Jake answered immediately. [[Crichton here.]]

"Inform the crew to return aboard no later than midnight tonight," said Kane. "We're shipping out for the Neutral Zone in the morning. All hands will be on deck, Commander."

[[Understood, Captain.]]

Kane paused a moment, cutting the connection. The Phoenix faced several months ahead on the picket line, patrolling the Neutral Zone while higher authorities attempted to ensure that peace, not war, would reign between Romulan Star Empire and United Federation of Planets. The deployment of Starfleet's dreadnought to the Neutral Zone was a message to the Romulans - we are not as helpless as you think we are, and if you come again, you'll be in for the fight of your lives.

Kane smiled softly to himself as he recalled the crew's exemplary performance at the Battle of Earth, and at the Elandipole incident, and on Limbo, and in every one of those days of every month of those years in long exile while the Federation fell to Human-centric fascism. Admiral Stiles' strategy was a good one - if the Romulans did come again, the Phoenix would meet them, and there would be a reckoning.

He moved through the throng of people toward the turbolift that would take him back to his ship's airlock. The hell with the Romulans, he realised. From their point of view, it was the opposite - the *Phoenix* was coming.

His heart swelled. So be it.

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NRPG: This post ends "In Place of God". Our next story, "The Romulan Way", will begin shortly.

The ship is docked at Starbase 56 for now. You can write about what you did there, or you can write about us leaving and going on patrol. Is your character nervous? Confident? Got a problem with Romulans?

You should probably look at the following wiki articles for an overview of how the Romulans have evolved in the FRPG:

Romulans: http://thefrpg.com/wiki/view/page/105
Romulan Star Empire: http://thefrpg.com/wiki/view/page/104
Romulan Neutral Zone: http://thefrpg.com/wiki/view/page/109
Klingon-Romulan War: http://thefrpg.com/wiki/view/page/42


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


"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.117

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