Traffic Control

Posted on May 31, 2016 @ 2:15pm by Captain Siobhan Reardon
Edited on on May 31, 2016 @ 2:25pm

Mission: Fortress: Earth

“Traffic Control”
(Continued from “Submission”)

=/\=

“Standing in the middle of the road is very dangerous; you get knocked down by the traffic from both sides.”

-Margaret Thatcher

=/\=

Prologue

Space itself was eternally quiet. The combination of very low density and pressure, it was the closest physical approximation of a perfect vacuum. Aristotle had once proclaimed that ‘Nature abhors a vacuum’. However, given that space was the medium in which the planets lived, and starships roamed, perhaps it was more necessary than the ancients first believed. The twenty-fifth century had certainly found a use for it.

EARTH, a glistening blue and green marble, was heavily obscured in the dark expanse. The Aegis Defense Shield criss-crossed the planet in a deadly web of explosives and thalaron radiation. Hundreds of civilian ships hovered, waiting for entry, their hulls wandering, interstellar flotsam and jetsam against an untouchable shoreline.

The third planet from the Sun was as far from a sanctuary as it ever had been. What was once the nerve center of the Federation was now a world holding its inhabitants hostage, under the guise of protection.

The fleet had arrived to right the many wrongs perpetrated by Richard Edgerton, the leader of the Neo-Essentialists, but he had enabled his own endgame- the threat of a scorched earth policy that could kill billions and reduce the planet to a rotating slag heap.

And, with that realization, as it echoed throughout the highest echelons of the would-be rebels, the tasks at hand remained the same, but with a heightened sense of urgency.


=/\=

Location: GRABTHAR'S HAMMER
SD: [2.16]0426.1913
Scene: Aft bunk

The man shuddered as the alarm rudely broke six hours of hard sleep. Without thinking, he swung his almost cramping legs over the side of the compact bunk, stretching his full six-foot-two frame, which was the most noticeable disadvantage in serving on the Hammer. Space, personal or otherwise, was at a premium.

He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to will himself to a more alert state of being. He ran his hands through lank, dark brown hair that had clearly grown out of a regulation length and fell just past his shoulders. His beard was equally unkempt, a few threads of silver peeking out. His warm hazel eyes still showed fatigue, but the dark circles that had given him a more sinister look were almost absent. He’d forgone a sonic shower and a hot meal for a few extra minutes of precious sleep, and as a result, he almost felt human.

He grabbed the small communication device out of the upper pocket in his cargo pants. It looked like something you could use to listen to music on, but it also was the only connection he had to the outside world.

The Hammer’s Captain was a smuggler that Intel had been looking to bring down for a while. He took on just enough legitimate business so that knowledge of his more dangerous exploits were kept hidden except to those who were closest to him: his crew. And for a man like Marshall Smith, who always seemed to operate on the edge of authority anyway, the mission was a good fit. It was just unfortunate that a Federation civil war would break out at the same time he was trying to bring the outlier to justice. Marsh had asked for a place to land, or clearance through the Aegis shield, and was only met with silence. Maybe today would be the day he could guide the Hammer down to its destiny.

He adjusted the earpiece and attached microphone. “Messages.”

[[One new message.]]

“Play it.”

[[Message from Lieutenant Eve Dalziel, USS PHOENIX.]]

His hope faded when he realized her hard alto voice was not the saving grace he wanted it to be. He listened to it twice, trying to glean as much as he could from her words and demeanor. He found it hard to believe it had been eight years since their trip to CARDASSIA PRIME. He’d lost track of her after she withdrew herself from the program in favor of shipboard assignments and the occasional desk job. He didn’t even know how or when she had been assigned aboard the PHOENIX. But he now understood they were both on the wrong side of the planet- outside looking in.

“Send response.”

[[Recording.]]

“Okay, missy, but it has to be my ‘house rules’. Black. Rook to e5.” He closed the device which sent the message automatically. This turn of events rattled him. Things had to be pretty much turning to crap if she decided to contact him while he was on an assignment.


=/\=

Location: USS ZHUKOV
Scene: Bridge

The flight control station was under control, the pilot and helmsman focusing intently on their oval path through the solar system.

Commander Summer Naamah, the Ktarian OPS officer, muttered a curse under her breath and pounded her fist against the console, less gently than she had wanted to. That only served to gain the attention of the ship’s CO.

“Something wrong?” Siobhan Reardon asked innocently, her amused facial expression betraying the tone of her question.

Summer’s yellow feline eyes narrowed in frustration. “We don’t yet have full containment. They’re not moving fast enough.”

“Relax. They aren’t military… and our ship isn’t a battle destroyer. We’re going to have to make several passes and do a little friendly cajoling and hand holding before they are clear of orbit.”

Summer crossed her arms. “I *don’t* cajole.”

“Then... don’t. Just keep track of the organized chaos out there. Leave the cajolery to me.”

“Gladly, Captain.”

Sio continued to pace across the bridge. "Speaking of which, it’s that time again. They don't have to go home, but they can't stay here. Open the hailing frequency.”

Commander Naamah activated the channel.

“This is Captain Reardon of the USS ZHUKOV. The air space around EARTH needs to be cleared as the de facto government led by Rear Admiral Edgerton has set up an impenetrable blockade until further notice. It is mandatory that all non-military vessels follow the ZHUKOV to comparable orbits around planets clear of the potential violence. Otherwise, the safety of your ships, their personnel, and their cargo cannot be guaranteed. This frequency will be used to coordinate ship movement and update status as needed. This message will be repeated until all ships have left the vicinity. Reardon out.”


=/\=

Location: GRABTHAR'S HAMMER
Scene: Bridge
Time Index: Twenty minutes later

Dallas came down the shallow trio of steps that led from the lift the multi-purpose helm station that was under his stewardship. The illicit trade vessel was so small it wasn’t meant to be hovering around the Earth ad infinitum. The four person crew had been sleeping in shifts so that only one of them at a time was unavailable.

“Good morning,” he said to the Captain and the Ops/Tac . Their Engineer, a Grazerite named Tanis-Gareth, had already left to get some sleep.

“Not much good about it,” grumbled Huran from behind him where the center seat was located.. Dallas couldn’t quite figure out the Kazon’s motives, in either his business or why he wasn’t serving among his own people. Huran was the only Kazon he’d ever seen up close and personal. And, given the misunderstandings Huran had with even translated English, it appeared that Smith was the first human the CO of the Hammer had met. The Kazon had laughed when he gave his surname, certain that it was fake. Dallas had amicably laughed in agreement, and for the most part their work relationship had been congenial.

Dallas took out one of the protein bars he’s shoved in the side pocket of his flight jacket, unwrapped it, and started chewing. The taste was somewhat offensive and chalky, but it was one notch better than the gnawing feeling in his gut. “What’s with him?” he asked the Orion woman who manned the Ops station.

Shi’nai glanced in his direction. Her black coverall, though austere, could not hide the fact that she was a beautiful woman. Neither could her close cropped brunette hair, which softly fell over her forehead and framed her almond shaped dark brown eyes. “They’re trying to corral all the ships away from Earth.”

“I will not bow down to their games,” Huran raged. Time was money “We enter their atmosphere as soon as the ZHUKOV is out of range.” He glanced at the emerald skinned woman. “How long until they are at the apex of the system’s orbit?”

“Thirty-eight minutes. We can plot a course for the far side of the planet, or the Arctic circle.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Dallas interjected.

“So the native son objects? Why?”

“Look outside your window, Huran. There is an entire fleet, waiting. If the shield is harmless, why have *they* not breached it?”

Theories played out in the Kazon’s eyes as he stared down at Dallas and Shi’nai in their stations a few feet below. “If there is to be a battle, then my customers need their goods more urgently than before. And we need to be gone from the area, latinum in hand, before that happens. Also do you forget how nimble the ship is? We can thread the eye of the needle, while those clumsy and massive Federation ships can only lumber outside the sensor net.” Huran stood for emphasis. “Set a course for the side of the planet farthest away from their Sun.”

Smith wanted to tell him what he knew… what he suspected. It wasn’t as simple as being small or fast. There was something *different* about this defense network. Dallas glared at the Captain, but reluctantly did as he was told. “Course set,” he harped.

If Huran was annoyed by the hesitation, he did not show it. He sat down, a strange look on his face that seemed to be his version of a smile. “Then go. Our fortunes await.”

=/\=

Location: USS ZHUKOV
Scene: Bridge

Operation “Follow the Leader” wasn’t going too badly. As the bulk of the ships did as they were told and let the ZHUKOV guide them to the edges of the solar system, their CO worked to convince some stragglers of the real possibility for danger if they didn’t.

{{Captain Reardon, it’s not that we don’t understand your plight. But these organic products can only be kept in stasis for so long until they spoil. We have restaurants on almost every continent waiting for delivery.}}

Siobhan addressed the Bolian CO calmly but firmly. “Absolutely you do. But it would be a shame for your ship to be harmed by the Neo-Essentialists while all you’re trying to do is give us a better salad. The only way I can ensure your safety is to have you moved. Which is more important?”

Captain Zidadd was visibly shaking now. {{I know the answer to that, Captain. The STRELIZIA will be along shortly. Thank you for taking the time to hear my grievances.}}

“That’s the sixth ship that has challenged us.” Summer Naamah said under her breath as she kept her eye on the swarm of vessels that were behind them.

Reardon glared up at the Operations station, but quickly recovered and smiled at Zidadd. “And thank you for your understanding, Captain. As soon as the threat is over we will be assisting all civilian ships in getting their needs met and their goods to market.”

{{STRELIZIA out.}} The Bolian nodded and shut the link as he turned to his bridge crew.

“Take it easy,” Sio said to her aggravated Operations Officer. “If I can hear you, there’s a chance they can hear you,” she said gesturing to the viewscreen, which was currently filled with the image of the edge of Saturn’s rings. “I’m trying to be diplomatic here.”

The Ktarian made a growling noise not unlike the ones she had been making at random for the last twenty minutes or so. “There should be no need. Starfleet knows best.”

Commander Britt grinned. “Summer, we have one half of us about to gear up and try and fight the other half. Does that sound very trustworthy or diplomatic to you?”

She looked at her ExO and CO and relented… a little. “I understand. But anyone who doesn’t have the intelligence to get out of the way deserves what they get.”

“Until we can isolate and neutralize the components of those satellites, and the way they communicate with each other, we need to separate the risk from the shield. Keep monitoring the pack of ships trailing us, Commander Naamah.”

“Aye, Ma’am.”

=/\=

Location: GRABTHAR'S HAMMER
Scene: Bridge
Time Index: Thirty-five minutes later

As they traced the shadow embracing half the planet, Dallas felt cold. Blades of light played with the edge of Earth, but those were to the far east of the northern hemisphere they were situated over. All that was below them was a wash of indigo set with pin pricks of lights from cities below.

“Start descent,” Huran said as he glanced at the chronometer.

“Starting descent,” Smith said stridently as he snapped the controls. There was only one way out of this. A mutiny of one was not what he wanted to do, but something inside of him told him he could not breach that shield. He fumbled with his left pants pocket. He had a needler there filled with tranquilizers, but there was no certainty with how they would affect the three others if he had a chance to get shots off before they noticed what was happening. The Kazon would be the toughest. He could sneak up on a sleeping Grazerite and thought he would probably be able to knock Shi’nai out, then drug her. “Shields and cloaking up.”

“All systems within normal parameters,” The Orion woman added.

“Excellent.” Huran got up from his seat and paced on the platform. It was kind of an arrogant move, but this pleased the Intel operative. He would be less likely to be discovered if Huran was too busy moving around to pay attention. Smith could also suddenly jerk the ship to a stop, causing the Kazon to lose balance and fall. His fingers balanced over the sensitive controls.

“Thirty seconds to defense breach.”

“Prepare to engage fastest possible speed to the delivery point once we’re clear,” the Kazon announced.

“Twenty seconds,” Shi’nai’s soft voice counted down.

Smith could feel the bile rise in his throat. The hunk of dry cocoa flavored protein he’d greedily consumed earlier was sitting like a rock in his digestive system. He could hear his buddies in Section 31 calling him ‘Miracle Marshall’ for his ability to get out of a tight spot. He hoped their assessment was still correct.

“Ten.”

Marsh planted his feet, getting ready to halt the ship’s movement and stand up.

“Six… five… four… three..”

Suddenly, the ship rattled and shook as it felt the pull of inertia. Huran grabbed the railing clumsily, but he did not fall. “What was that?”

Dallas looked at the controls and blinked. He hadn’t done anything yet. And the ZHUKOV wasn’t even close by.

“Report!” Huran screamed.

The undercover helmsman checked the diagnostics and let out a low whistle. “Someone’s enabled a tractor beam on us,” He said, trying to sound angry as relief washed over him.

“We’re being hailed, Huran.”

“Accept it!” the Kazon roared, having reached his seat and was now gripping the arm of the command chair.

The Federation emblem appeared, but when the next image materialized, the Kazon was confused. And pissed. “Pirates?! Identify yourselves!”

The older man removed his feathered tricorn hat, politely tucking it under one arm. {{This is Captain Sylvester Kinderman of the USS SUMTER. Prepare to be brought aboard, you scurvy knaves!}}

Marsh stared at the rag-tag group on the viewscreen. The ship was a little dated, but nothing compared to the full regalia they were wearing. It was hundreds of years out of era and looked meticulous in detail. It was like the crew of the Bounty had been dragged off the holodeck during a fancy dress party.

“And if I refuse?”

{{Ye can refuse all ye wish, Captain. However we’ve held on to garbage scows much larger than you without so much as spillin’ a drop of rum. Surely you realize that yer cloak an' shield provided virtually no protection.}}

The strange pirate man was right, and that just angered Huran further. “What do you plan to do with us?”

{{Why, provide ye with the finest of guest accommodations until all the ruckus dies down. Forcefields included at no extra charge.}}

“You can’t do this!” The Kazon groaned and sputtered as he slumped down in his chair.

{{Forgive me for statin’ the obvious, my good sir, but we can and we did. But don’t trouble yerselves, we’ll even put mints on the pillows.}} Sly turned his attention to the rest of his crew. {{Security to Cargo Bay one. Prepare to roll out the welcome plank for our guests. Kinderman out.}}


=/\=

Susan Ledbetter
Writing for…

Captain Siobhan Reardon
CO
USS ZHUKOV