Meanwhile on the Horizon

Posted on 07/28/2014 @ 5:32am by Captain Kheren & Lieutenant JG Patricia Blakely & Lieutenant JG Aguk Snow & Lieutenant JG Thankhuun Cheonghi & Lieutenant JG Mriish Schechenarsvalii & Lieutenant JG Robert Baoule & Lieutenant JG Norbert Baoule & Ensign Meeramanee Blackbird & Commander Joseph Sisko & Captain Neil Redding & Lt. Commander Elisha Leóne & Lieutenant 011 and 110 M.D.
Edited on on 08/08/2014 @ 12:30pm

Mission: Hawks And Doves
Location: Border of beta Quadrant & Fluidic Space
Timeline: as thePolaris is away

"Commander Redding... we are receiving a transmission... from Starfleet Command. It's encrypted, Sir."

The shrill, raspy voice of the Edoan ops officer Cheonghi broke the tense silence that had gripped the bridge, the whole ship even, since the return of the Delta Flyer from the battle with the Undine. Sitting at the left of the command chair, the six-limbed, orange-skinned humanoid had squeezed his strange frame into the Medical Command Chair to handle communications, monitoring all subspace traffic for any signal that could give them hope... or worries.

By the sound of his voice, it was presently the latter. The entire crew was aware of their orders to come home... without their captain. They were also quite aware as to why the Polaris was now out performing her... drills... and that Commander Redding was having them all cruise on a very thin line between their duties and their hopes; a line that could break at any moment.

Like now.

"Out here, already?" wondered Aguk Snow, stopping his incessant fidgeting over the helm controls, as if he was about to hurl the Horizon into the opening of Fluidic Space looming like a greenish scar against the blackness of space on the main viewer. "We're two hundred light years on the other side of the beta Quadrant from Starbase 212, the nearest Federation installation. It would take well over two months for a subspace signal to reach us from there!"

"How did we rreceive any orrders to come back to base, then?" suddenly growled the feline-shaped Caitian officer Mrriish sitting at his left at tactical.

"These were sealed orders already encoded when we left Starbase Lotus," answered Miramanee Blackbird with a tone as somber as the expression on her copper-colored elfin features. "They were activated once Commander Redding logged the... absence of the Captain."

She might have been among the newest members of Captain Kheren's bridge crew, yet she had already developped the same bond as the other for her now missing commanding officer. After all, she had been the one working most often and closely with him since the launch of this ship... and like all the others, she had witnessed the way the Undine dreadnought had seemingly sacrificed itself to save them all from the Undine attack... and with it, their Captain. That was bound to leave a deep impression on her.

"Subspace relay station 194 is forty light years closer to us," then said Norbert Baoule from the main Science Station. "And that station is itself about forty light years distant from the star Taurus at the rimward edge of the Beta Quadrant. There were exploration and colonisation projects planned by Starfleet in that sector for some time now; if such was the case... and if a subspace relay network had been in the process of being erected from there..."

"Then such a signal would have taken maybe half the time... or maybe even less to reach us," understood Snow now looking straight at the image on the large viewer before him as if he could somehow look all the way back there. "But even so, such a transmission would have been sent at best weeks before our departure."

As the bridge officers thus speculated, the communication panel on Redding's right hand signaled that the transmission had been received, recorded, decrypted and readied for him. Now, everyone was silent, busy at their task; but of all people, he certainly knew that all their attention was riveted on that little chime announcing it's readiness.

Redding decided to take it in private so that the rest of the crew would not be implicated if he had to go against orders. But of course, Snow was right. It  just wasn't possible this could be directly related to current events, Starfleet wouldn't receive his situational update for at least a week or two.

"I'll take it in the captain's ready room."

He couldn't bring himself to say 'my ready room.' It was to soon for that.

He sat down looking at the screen and wondering would could have happened since they left. How ironic would it have been to be a warning about Kheren's possible Undine status.

"Computer play message," he said after giving the proper codes.

On the wall screen of the captain's office, the image was grainy, with faded colors and occasinal glitches as if it was about to be cut off. But there was no mistaking the uniform and the rank bar on the red collar, the round-jawed features, the large pale eyes and the short-cropped snowy mane of the man looking directly back at Redding. This face was famous accross the entire Federation as that of the man who had captained the USS Al-Batani spearheading the Arias Expedition during the Federation-Cardassian War and lead Operation Watson that made possible the return of the USS Voyager. He was also the father of the very man who had himself lead the designers of the USS Horizon, the man who would have been her captain... had it not been for a certain Andorian commanding officer of the most elite division of Starfleet being suddenly chosen over him after Operation Horizon.

The face on the screen was that of Admiral Owen Paris. And Admiral Owen Paris had been declared dead following the destruction of Starbase 234 during the Borg War.

But then again, this was not the first time a prominent Starfleet officer had been declared dead, only to resurface years later at the head of some classified project or just to preserve him and his family from some danger.

But if Neal was surprised to see him, and not just because of the obvious direct link despite the vast number of parsecs separating them, the same sentiment was quite evident on the face of the admiral staring directly back at him.

"Redding ?"

The surprise on Admiral Paris' part was more than just at seeing him there. Both knew each other well, if only on a professionnal level and both had been about the same age when they last met; and now, he was looking at a man half a century younger. Redding's accident that had brought him back to his present youth was part of the currently highest classified secrets of Starfleet. Even a high-ranking officer like Paris didn't knew anything about it besides rumors. At least, he shouldn't have.

But Owen Paris had not risen up the ranks just by flying a computer console. He quickly regained his composure and the trademark stern attitude that had made him so feared at Starfleet Academy when he had taught survival courses there.

"Where is Captain Kheren?"

He could not suppress his own surprise.

"Paris? Owen Paris? Good god man, I actually thought you were dead.. I was at your wake!"

For someone like Redding who prided himself on expecting just this sort of thing, for once, he didn't see it coming.

"I did my best for Julia but Tim and B'elanna were besides themselves." He intentionally said Thomas Paris' first name wrong.

Due to the clandestine nature of their work people that worked close together often left little codes for each other so they could be sure they were talking to the real person. This was their code.  One of them would mispronounce his son,s or daughter in-law's first name, and the other would off-handedly correct it.

"Well, the reports about my death were, as the saying goes, greatly exagerated... but it couldn't be helped. You know how it is, especially right after a major war... But the transmission is a bit garbled, Neal, I heard you say Tim and B'elanna instead of Tom and V'eelanna..."

Paris was using the same subtle coding behind the smokescreen of their difficult connexion to apply the same precaution. After all, it was Redding who was nearest to a potential infiltration treat at the moment. Confirming one another would thus look inconspicuous even to a clever evesdropper. Neither he nor Redding would respond with any useful or sensitive information until both did. But Redding could see no reason not to answer his question.

"The captains currently missing and... presumed dead, Admiral."

He was glad to see Paris's gristled old face, he wasn't just another desk riding Admiral who would simply insist he abandon the search.

"We are currently undergoing repairs and conducting a thorough search of the area while we do."

It was clear now HOW Admiral Paris was reaching them, even if he didn't know the exact method. He had been in charge of the Pathfinder program after all, and that managed to reach the lost starship USS Voyager all the way in the Delta quadrant.

There was a dark expression on the old officer's face as he listened to the commander's words, as if they were voicing some dreadful thoughts in his mind. The gesture seemed as much to interrupt Redding as to chase away those specters.

"Send your full report in a compressed data stream as we speak. I will look over it after this link is broken... which will happen in about twelve minutes, when the class B pulsar the MIDAS array is currently aimed at will complete it's cycle. Then it will only be available again in two weeks... by which time it will be way too late to save you... and us all."

So that was it. As one of engineering expertise, Redding knew a great many things about it. The MIDAS array made use of cosmic field collector and transmitter hardware like those of any standard space installation like Jupiter Station. But here, the central faceted dish and three outer articulated antenna paddles could bore deep through subspace to pick up faint whispers of signals that might normally had been considered lost through energy dissipation over tens of thousands of light-years. The longer, multi-panel collectors comprised the omnidirectional detector system, which told the array to slew around to maximize signal energy input. Different energy levels could be focused by the dish into a mobile feed horn cab riding hundreds or even thousands of meters away from its docking base. The cab contained banks of subspace preprocessors running at supraluminal speeds and could transmit preliminary results to the array's main computers and then to Starfleet Headquarters by way of standard subspace communication relays.

This is what had allowed Starfleet, over a quarter of a century ago, to re-establish contact with the USS Voyager then presumed lost. By firing a tachyon beam at the pulsar, a micro-wormhole had been artificially formed for seventeen hours every thirty-two days to allow hyper-subspace communication accross galactic distances. The Pathfinder Project had been refined since Operation Watson by it's own creator, Commander Reginald Barclay, who's bald pate could be glimpsed at a console behind the Admiral; now, direct communication could be established even to the farthest corners of the galaxy, even if only for a brief period relative to the specific cycle of the particular pulsar they managed to be able to bounce the signal over and create the quantum singularity required for the transmission.

These toughts were interrupted by the voice of the admiral on the screen.

"We have established this link because a critical situation has arisen. The Klingons managed to... intercept... the Undine's message... and they... learned... about the departure and mission of the Horizon. At the Council Meeting this morning, Ambassador Kamarag of the Klingon Empire openly accused the Federation of secretly building up an alliance with the Undine. The representatives of the Romulans and the Kzintis, even those of the far away Illythirii and even the much closer to home Andorians have expressed... deep concerns about this, following these revelations... unwisely... hidden from the rest of the Council members."

He made a short pause so that Redding could fully grasp all the implications of such dissention and mistrust between galactic powers already at each other's throat... or worse, among friends. Then his expression became even more somber.

"The ambassador also assured the Council that the Klingon Empire would not sit by while the Federation hid it's cowardly plots behind the smokescreen of some official disbanding of it's former treacherous Section 31. As we speak, a task force of three Klingon Vor'Cha class battlecruisers with an escort of three squadrons of Birds of Prey has already been launched from their far away outpost on Adh'Lara, Epsilon Canis Majoris on our star charts, the closest inhabited star of your current side of the Beta Quadrant. Two more such attack wings are in preparation to follow from deeper within the Empire. At maximum warp, the first group will reach your coordinates in two days... but they will have you on their sensors in half that time."

 Paris this time did not leave time for the large man to ponder the issue. He brought them out right in the open.

"Peaceful relations are still broken between the Federation and the Empire, on the very fact of Undine infiltration as it so happens... about which they had been right all along as we now know... and for the last ten years we've been dancing on a thin wire over the threat of a general war. Even if the Klingons are aware of the transwarp capability of the Horizon, which is more than likely, knowing of the time of departure of the Lotus Fleet flagship and detecting her on the other side of their quadrant at this time clearly imply that Klingon Space had been violated. Even without the accusations of conspiracy with a self-declared enemy of every sentient being of our galaxy, this alone is enough under Interstellar Law to have the Horizon seized and her crew taken into custody. And you know what that means if the Klingons are the policemen, especially here and now."

Now Paris was silent, obviously expecting Redding to come by himself to the obvious conclusion... and the decision he sho uld make.

Redding did indeed understood. He had spent decades living with or fighting against the Klingons.

"With any luck we'll have our repairs completed and the Polaris back before they get here Admiral. Once back in transwarp, the situation becomes moot. But regardless, I can assure you they WILL NOT be taking this ship as a prize. It's the Andorians I'm concerned with to be honest; handling them will be problematic to say the least."

Andorians could be quick to temper and in this case my have a personal motive as well; Captain Kheren. 

Kheren's status as an 'abomination' among his own people might be fueling their suspicions as to the nature of the mission, Redding wished he knew more about why Kheren left to join starfleet; it could make all the difference in avoiding a cultural breach in the Federation.

"I can only suggest that the Federation Diplomatic Corps do what it can in that regard Admiral Paris, but I will do my best to defuse them if they arrive. They're still are friends and our allies."

"Yes... hopefully," grumbled Paris with a deep frown on his round face. And his words echoed the thoughts Redding himself was having. "I've never been much in contact with them... never even had one on my crew or my staff during my whole career in fact. But at the Council meeting today, it was said that they were... quiet. Now, I don't know much about them... who does... but, for some reason I can't explain, this is disturbing me more than if they had made an outburst like the Klingons did... Something happened in the last weeks, but no one seems to know anything about it. They are certainly not talking; after all, they have more experience and expertise about security and covert activities than any sentient race known in this galaxy. And now, amidst a very delicate situation, one of their own is missing ... and a very prominent and very peculiar one at that, which is saying a lot when talking about Andorians."

The admiral was silent for a moment, as if about to say more than changing his mind with a deep sigh.

"We'll leave diplomacy to the diplomats and politics to the politicians... but we'll have to do our part in this delicate game. Commander Redding, recall the Polaris. She too must not be found in the vicinity when the Klingons come into sensor range... and time must  be allowed for your energy trails to dissipate. As soon as feasible, you will proceed back at best possible speed to Starbase 212."

"We plan our rendez-vous with the Polaris in twelve hours or so, as they are currently out of communication range. That must be our minimal departure time. The Transwarp drive should be operational well before that, Admiral, although it kicks up quite a warp signature, so we may limp out of the area at normal warp speeds first and then switch to the Transwarp drive."

Deep down Redding would have preferred to stay and fight the Klingons, and would not feel bad if it came down to that, but he had his orders and diplomacy was never to be handled lightly.

But he knew that 'running' from them would only make things harder later, if he beat them down here and now they might even drop it entirely.  Klingons were predictable like that, they respected straight forward strength.

He sighed "Ill do my best to keep this from become a political incident Admiral, if that's possible"

Owen Paris' frown deepened, if that was even possible.

" Twelve hours is much too close for comfort, Commander. Twelve hours would not be enough to completely dissipate your warp trail. Klingons might not be the sharpest scientists in the galaxy, but they're not idiots either and their instrumentation is not worse than ours... Moreover, they expect to find you here; they will certainly be very thorough in their search. And once they find out evidence of your presence, the Federation is as much in trouble as you yourselves will be if they start chasing you... which we both know they will do."

" Ah... one, one minute... Admiral Sir."

That was the voice of Commander Barclay who raised briefly his head from behind his console. The admiral sighed and then  looked straight into Redding's eyes.

"The Federation's position in the current political tension will hinges on your decisions. The last thing we want is Starfleet to be the spark of a galactic war. It is imperative that you were never there, as far as the Klingons... and the rest of the galaxy,,, are concerned. Same for the Polaris ; if things come to worse, she is to be considered expendable... and a galactic hazard. Do I make myself clear, Commander Redding?"

"Completely Admiral, but for the record I disagree with this course of action. If this is somehow Starfleets fault then the worst thing we could do is try to cover it up, and if it's not, then running from it is certainly a fool's errand." In truth the thought of running and lying as if they were thieves in the night didn't set well with him at all.

"Noted, Commander," simply said Paris between two brief glitches of the image. There was a cold moment of silence before Redding spoke again.

"But I don't except that either ship or any member of their crews are expendable for this cover up, Regardless, I'll see that your orders are followed. The Klingons will never know we were ever here, Admiral Paris, even if..."

But the signal was starting to break down and so, he added a few parting words

"Watch for me at Blacks Point and hope you don't find me..." and the signal dropped.

To say the situation annoyed him was an understatement, even more so because the Admiral was right; this was a situation that needed to be covered up.

And God, did he need a drink.

"Captain to all senior officers; report immediately to the Captain's ready room, Redding out. "

He hadn't meant to call himself the Captain but, time, such worries were past so he didn't give it a second thought.

It wasn't really his way to talk to the other officers and ask their opinion on a situation, but they had at least as much as he riding on what they do next.

Besides, he mused, it's what Captain Kheren would have done if he were here so they would expect it.

 

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