Star Trek Prometheus - in the Heart of Chaos

by Christian Humberg

  “The Prometheus and the Bortas have been following a lead regarding a potential shipyard, as you probably know,” replied Adams. “So far, all leads point to Bharatrum. Before we could engage in further investigations there our mission was derailed by finding the Valiant’s log buoy, which led us to Iad.”

  Gepta snapped impatiently with his ocher-colored jaws. “I am up to date on your mission reports, Captain. In fact, you have not found a shipyard or a base anywhere in the Bharatrum system or the Souhla system, isn’t that right?”

  Adams felt like a schoolboy whose performance had been lacking and who was facing a dressing-down from his principal. “Unfortunately that’s correct, sir. The locals are extremely uncooperative, and our mandate doesn’t give us much leeway when it comes to ignoring the wishes of the governing bodies within the Lembatta Cluster. However, we gained important new insights on Iad regarding the source of the entire crisis. The report was submitted to Starfleet Command last night.”

  “Mhm, must be still lying around somewhere in Headquarters.” Gepta let out a disgruntled growl. “Send a copy to me on the Venture.”

  “Right away, sir.” Adams signaled Winter with his eyes to forward the relevant log entries.

  “What is your position?” the admiral asked.

  “We’re en route to the Bharatrum system for further investigations. Iad is a dead end for the time being. You’ll find all the details in my report.”

  “Very well.” Gepta nodded. “Patrol the Bharatrum system. Find further clues regarding the Purifying Flame. And expect our call just as soon as we have determined the origin of this solar-jumper. Oh, and, Captain…”

  “Sir?”

  “Presumably Admiral Akaar will get in touch with you about this, but just so you know—the ultimatum of one hundred hours imposed by the High Council has been lifted.”

  Adams heard some of his bridge officers gasp in surprise. “How did that happen, Admiral?” No sooner had he finished asking the question when it dawned on him that he might not like the answer.

  “An agreement was reached between Ambassador K’mtok and the president. Qo’noS dropped the ultimatum, but in return the Klingon Defense Force now has full access to Federation space around the Lembatta Cluster. We’re tightening the noose around the Purifying Flame’s neck, Captain.”

  “Not too tightly, Admiral,” Adams said. “These solar-jumpers supposedly have a range of up to thirty light years.”

  “We are well aware of that, Captain.” Gepta’s usual snippy tone intensified. “We’re prepared for that. I mention it to you mainly because some Klingon captains may decide to achieve extra glory by entering the cluster, even though they don’t have permission to. So be on the lookout.”

  “Understood, Admiral. How should we proceed if we do encounter any Klingon ships?”

  “Tell them to leave the cluster immediately.”

  “Very well, but we won’t be able to verify their departure—we can’t be distracted by escorting Klingon strays out of the cluster.”

  “Just report any such incidents to the Venture, and then I will demand a report from General Akbas. He’s leading the Klingon operations in the sector. Still, at the end of the day, the Klingons only pose a minor problem for us out here.”

  Adams found the admiral’s statement to be dangerously dismissive. “With all due respect, sir, I’m not so sure about that. The captain of the Bortas has proven himself to be just as militant as the worst fanatics of the Purifying Flame. If it were up to him, all planets within the cluster would have gone up in flames already—as a warning to all Renao not to trifle with the Klingon Empire. More warriors of Kromm’s temperament would be counterproductive in the cluster right now.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on our allies,” Gepta said. “See to it that you focus on what our enemies are up to.”

  The barely concealed reprimand almost made Adams wince. This time the admiral really was in a bad mood. He probably had hoped for better results from the captured solar-jumper than just a few makeshift attack fighters and an encrypted system.

  Nodding, the captain straightened himself. “Aye, sir. We’re on it.”

  “Excellent. Gepta, out.”

  The Chelon’s image faded and was replaced by the red swirling cluster nebulae at warp speed.

  “Who put a scratch in his shell?” Carson mumbled.

  Adams shot her an admonishing look. “Commander!”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  He stood next to ops, putting his hand on the backrest of her chair. “I’m surprised at your knowledge of Chelon idioms.”

  Carson looked up at him. “I used to have a Chelon crewmate on the Lexington, sir. He was very talkative—and rather, ah, profane.”

  In spite of himself, Adams grinned. “I understand. But next time, I suggest you keep your voice down a bit more when mocking an admiral.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  * * *

  The door to Geron Barai’s quarter was closed but not locked to allow the medical staff access to their patient at all times. But Lenissa still hesitated when she arrived at his room.

  Part of her was afraid of crossing that threshold. How many nights had she spent with Geron behind this door? They had eaten, joked, made love, and shared hours completely losing themselves in passion.

  Now, the man she had taken as her lover when she had arrived aboard the Prometheus was lying in his bed once more. But this time, he didn’t wait for her. She wouldn’t join him, he wouldn’t take off her uniform with his nimble, gentle fingers, and they wouldn’t make love. This time, he would probably barely notice her presence because his mind—according to Doctor Calloway—had shattered under the onslaught of the monster on Iad.

  Her antennae swayed back and forth insecurely, while she considered walking away again. What was she doing here, anyway? If Geron didn’t perceive her, she was wasting her time. There were more important things for her to be doing. For example, she should schedule a boarding drill, just in case they found the Flame’s shipyard.

  Coward! she chided herself. All those thoughts were merely excuses. In truth, she didn’t want to see Geron vulnerable and broken. If her memory served, Paul Winter had told her once that humans—when they committed to a relationship—promised to be there for each other during good times and bad times. Maybe that was the reason why Lenissa shied away from relationships. She wasn’t good at dealing with bad times.

  Lenissa heard quiet footsteps coming down the corridor. Someone would soon be here and find her standing outside this door glued to the spot. You have fought space pirates, Borg, and Tzenkethi! Now face this opponent as well!

  With a resolute motion she touched the control panel beside the door, which obediently slid open. Lenissa went inside.

  The room was not very large. The Prometheus was not a Galaxy-class ship, offering luxurious and spacious cabins to their senior staff. There was a bed—which, admittedly, was wider than the bunks of the non-commissioned crewmembers—a small table with two chairs, a workstation, and a separate sanitary niche. The room had no windows. The Prometheus was a warship and thus had considerably fewer windows than many other Starfleet ships. Instead, one wall was covered by a large viewscreen that would show space or any other environment as required. Those displays had a soothing effect and made the room seem larger, despite the virtual nature of the imagery.

  Right now the screen was switched off and the lights dimmed. Lenissa also noticed the silence. Geron loved music played by the Betazoid Khitarr—a quiet, emotional instrument that suited his personality well. He had often played a selection of his extensive collection as ambient music when they were in his quarters. Lenissa generally preferred more lively music, but now she found herself missing the gentle sounds. The only noise in the room came from the mobile diagnostic unit that linked to sickbay.

  Lenissa approached the bed. In the past, she’d do so with joy and pleasure, but now she felt only apprehension and caution. Everything felt wrong. Geron lay flat on his back under
the sheets. His arms and legs twitched slightly, although he was heavily sedated. Lenissa saw his eyeballs moving rapidly behind his closed eyelids. Apparently Geron’s mind was still in a state of unrest, despite the medication. She didn’t even want to know what kind of nightmare he was currently trapped in.

  She stood next to his bed, wondering whether she should say anything. Sometimes it was helpful for patients in a coma to hear the voices of a familiar, loved person. At least that was what Geron had told her some time ago.

  And you do love me, don’t you? she thought. Of course he loved her—or if nothing else, he had fallen in love with her. That had been undeniable ever since their return from the patrol near the Tzenkethi border. At first, everything had been good and carefree. Lenissa had been transferred to the Prometheus, and she had looked for a man to have fun with, as she usually did. In the doctor she had found not only a fantastic lover but also some sort of soulmate.

  They had had so much fun, because they had found the perfect outlet for the pressure that their everyday duties entailed. But then, their relationship had gradually changed.

  Oh, Geron, why did you have to develop feelings for me? Sighing, Lenissa wanted to sit down on the edge of the bed next to him, but she felt an increasing resistance. Right. The restraining field. Reaching out with her arm, she switched off the small field projector underneath the diagnostic unit. It was supposed to prevent Geron from injuring himself if he experienced a fit of madness and fury. As long as she was by his side, he didn’t need it. Lenissa was convinced that she would be able to control him if he went mad. After all, she had always been in charge when they had been in bed together.

  The only thing I couldn’t control were your feelings. In that respect you were always the stronger one. Quietly sighing, she settled down on the edge of the bed, holding Geron’s left hand in hers. It felt unusually warm, and when she briefly touched his forehead, she noticed that he felt extremely feverish. For a moment she considered calling Doctor Calloway. But one glance at the diagnostic unit told her that all vital signs of the Betazoid were within normal parameters. Geron’s life was not in danger, but he was quite obviously sick, nonetheless.

  Sympathetically she pointed her antennae at him. “I should have known better,” she said quietly, talking more to herself than to the restless man on the bed. “A relationship with a Betazoid, with someone who’s able to look into the heads and hearts of others, can only lead to emotions. But, well, you know, you were my first Betazoid. I wanted to have a fling with a Napean on the Lexington, but he proved to be fairly demure.” She giggled. “I have to be careful what I tell you. You can hear me after all, and that will be pretty embarrassing when you get better.”

  If he got better… They had no idea what long-term effects the Son’s mental onslaught would have for his victims. The Renao seemed to be driven into a lethal fanaticism by the subtle, constant influence. But their minds had been poisoned for years. The Prometheus crew had received an extraordinary overdose of this poison within a few moments. It seemed unlikely to Lenissa that Geron’s mind and character would significantly change because of that. But he might never regain a clear mind, and that was just as bad.

  Maybe I should talk to Doctor Calloway or Counselor Courmont, she pondered. If anyone knows the answer to the question of what’s going to happen to Geron and the others, it will be them.

  The Betazoid shifted restlessly and groaned. His eyelids fluttered and closed again.

  Gently, Lenissa squeezed his hand. “You will get better, do you hear me? You must.” She noticed her vision blur. With a short and desperate laugh, she wiped away the tears. “Look what you’re doing to me! I’m an Andorian zhen. I have a heart of ice. Never have I wanted more from a man than just a little fun. If anyone came close to me, I pushed them away.”

  She had also pushed Geron away, she knew that. She had tried to, anyway. After her abduction by the Purifying Flame, he had seemed a little too caring, and the unspoken love had changed into something that went too far in Lenissa’s eyes. He had been constantly concerned about her well-being, and that had collided with her urge to remain independent.

  Her natural reaction had been to distance herself, at least on the inside. Her self-imposed lack of compassion had hurt Geron—both literally, when she almost broke his pelvis during a night full of passion by being reckless and using the full force of her Andorian physique, and figuratively, as it broke his heart. Now she regretted her behavior. He was a good man; gentle, friendly, caring on one side, while unbridled and eager to try out new things on the other. It wasn’t fair that his mind had lost its orientation, maybe even forever, during their personal crisis. What was there to support him now? How should she let him know that she didn’t feel as indifferent towards him as she had let on?

  She bent forward, pressing her cold forehead against his warm one. She felt a glow as if an unholy fire burned within him. Her antennae swayed gently back and forth.

  “I’m sorry,” she said with a choked voice. Her vision blurred again. “I’m just so sorry about everything. If you’re still somewhere in there, please, listen to me very carefully. Listen, because I want you to know this, and I want you to cling to it.”

  Lenissa brought her lips close to his ear, lowering her voice to an almost inaudible whisper. And then she said something she had never thought she would ever say out loud—and maybe she wouldn’t have done if Geron had been conscious.

  “I love you.”

  11

  NOVEMBER 27, 2385

  Memory Alpha

  The day when Kosinski had started working as a data analyst on Memory Alpha was the day when he had given up completely. His career had finally reached an all-time low. He contemplated quitting, but he loved working in space far too much to retire.

  In his youth, he had been a rising star. Specializing in propulsion systems, he had worked for the Starfleet Corps of Engineers, and always dreamed about revolutionizing warp travel. For a while it had even looked as if his dream might come true.

  With his assistant—an engineer from Tau Alpha C—he had developed methods to increase the performance of warp drives. They had even successfully been installed on several ships.

  But on a fateful day in 2364, his life had taken a terrible turn. Kosinski had conducted a warp experiment aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise-D when disaster almost struck. During this incident, two things had come to light: one, Kosinski’s assistant was in truth a highly developed life form calling itself “the Traveler”; and two, Kosinski’s concepts were nothing more than nonsense, and the improvements to the other ships’ engines were all a result of the Traveler’s superhuman abilities.

  A child, of all people—a boy genius named Wesley Crusher, who had permission from Captain Picard to roam freely about the ship—had figured Kosinski out in the end. That moment in the engine room couldn’t have been any more embarrassing.

  Starfleet insisted that they would not hold Kosinski’s failure against him, and he received no reprimand. However, from that moment on his career had stalled as his competence was called into question. It didn’t help that his attitude could charitably be called self-confident—though more accurately he was an arrogant ass. The colleagues he’d been dismissive of and rude to before could barely conceal their glee at his downfall.

  Eventually, he had left the S.C.E. and had transferred to the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yard’s development department, but that hadn’t improved matters much. No one trusted his judgment after what happened on the Enterprise.

  When his superior officer showed him the offer to work as a data analyst on Memory Alpha—“a new beginning, you know”—he had jumped at it, becoming a staff member of the Federation’s biggest library.

  It did sound impressive, at least: the complete knowledge of all Federation member worlds was archived in the databases of Memory Alpha. There was a database for astroculture, a department on the history of Starfleet, and a cartographic archive. The department for antiquity boasted, among other things
, a two-thousand-year-old map of the Vulcan systems, as well as one of the three existing copies of the Andorian Liturgy of the Temple of Uzaveh from the third century. And the collection of the fine arts brought tears of awe to experts’ eyes.

  How anyone could have come up with the absurd idea to establish this epicenter of knowledge on a tiny, lifeless planetoid was way beyond Kosinski, even after two years. Without the huge atmosphere domes or the subterranean gravity generators, working or leading a normal life on Memory Alpha would have been impossible. Of course, there were records about the construction of the galactic library, but Kosinski hadn’t found any reasons for choosing this location.

  “Good morning, Ezra,” he greeted his colleague from the night shift. “What’s new?”

  The hairy Xindi-Arboreal, who reminded Kosinski of an upright-walking sloth, burst out laughing. “Really, that joke doesn’t get old, Kosinski.” Ezra shook his head, which was framed by a white and gray mane.

  Kosinski sighed quietly. Ezra might be a walking database, but his sense of humor was awful. “I’m serious, Ezra. Did anything happen within the galaxy while I was asleep that I should know about?”

  “Hmm, let me think.” The Arboreal tapped his rubbery lips with the index finger of his clawed hand. “The Federation has received an invitation from the Typhon Pact to a power summit in a place called ‘Embassy of Distance.’ A planetwide epidemic is spreading on Rigel VIII, and the world has been placed under quarantine. The U.S.S. Berlin caused a diplomatic incident at Evora, and the planet is threatening to break with the Federation. And the Lembatta crisis is heating up. The president has given the Klingons permission to patrol in the systems around the cluster.” Ezra’s face lit up. “Talking about Lembatta. A few minutes ago, a Doctor Mandel forwarded a task from the U.S.S. Prometheus. They are looking for an extremely weird space phenomenon.”