The Prometheus Protocol

Posted on Nov 19, 2016 @ 4:09am by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane

Mission: Aftermath

"THE PROMETHEUS PROTOCOL"

(Continued from "Changes In The Wind")

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Location: Earthrise Hotel, Tycho City, Luna
Stardate: [2.16]1119.0010
Scene: Lobby


Michael Turlogh Kane had no time to admire the magnificent view in the lobby of the Earthrise Hotel. Tycho City was one of the first colonies that Humans had built on Luna, and in the nigh-on four centuries since its founding, the city had grown to be both an important economic and tourism centre. Everyone wanted to see where Humans had taken their first blind steps into the stars by setting their planet's own satellite - not only other Humans, but many off-worlders came here as tourists.

The lobby  of the Earthrise Hotel was built under a magnificent transparent biodome, that gave an amazing one-eighty view of the blue sky above. Since its terraforming, Luna had a blue sky just like Earth's, and you could go outside and walk and breathe the air without any need for a bulky exosuit. Once a day, every day, planet Earth rose over the horizon, blue on blue, and hung in the sky all day long, turning slowly on its axis. If you got up in the morning looking at Australia, you could come back in the evening and see the Americas filling up the hotel's dome.

Ever since Paris and the creation of the Great Black Spot, that view had been somewhat diminished, but almost a week of living in the hotel had not dimmed Kane's fascination with watching the Earth's tumbling through space, rolling through the cosmos in an endless Newtonian spiral. Now, though, he had another appointment to keep.

He spotted Lieutenant Byte standing directly underneath the dome, looking up at the Earth. Other hotel guests were moving around the android, looking upward and following its gaze with bemusement. The staff were nonplussed - they were used to this sort of thing.

Kane approached the android. "Thank you for coming, Lieutenant."

Byte's gaze immediately dropped. It was wearing its Starfleet uniform, the black jumpsuit with a gold band across the shoulders. {{I came as soon as I received your message, Captain.}}

Kane gestured to the nearby seating area. A deep, plush carpet held several armchairs and couches. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

{{I have spent much of the past several days offline,}} said Byte. {{Doctor Maddox's team have been running tests on my positronic matrix, and during my waking hours I have been conversing with my siblings.}}

Kane frowned, trying to imagine three Bytes all talking to one another. From what he knew, Bruce Maddox had created three positronic matrices a few years ago and allowed them to choose their own genders and their own life-goals. Byte had made his own choice, and one of the other androids - Tera, its name was - had chosen to be female. He couldn't risk poking the android. "Did they miss you?"

Byte made that facial expression where it appeared to be looking inside itself. {{That would imply an emotional aspect to our relationship which does not exist, Captain.}}

"Some families are like that, especially during holidays," Kane deadpanned, sitting down. "You can't pick your family, but you can pick your friends." He chuckled as Byte tried to digest what he meant. "I asked you to meet me for a reason, Lieutenant."

{{Of course, Captain. How can I help?}}

Kane lowered his voice and leaned in to the android conspiratorially. "You can begin by accessing your restricted memory log. Open the files labelled 'Prometheus Protocol', and execute subroutine entitled 'Clean Slate'."

Anyone watching the two Starfleet figures from across the lobby would not have noticed anything amiss, not even when the older Human reached up and opened a dataport on the right-hand side of the android's cranium, connecting a PADD wirelessly for data transfer.

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From
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Marie-Claire Martine
Secretary of Starfleet
Starfleet Command, San Francisco

To
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Charles M. Koniki, Admiral
New Alexandria


Admiral Koniki,

On behalf of Starfleet Command, and in my capacity as Secretary of Starfleet, I am pleased to offer you the position of Head of Starfleet Intelligence, along with a promotion to the rank of Vice-Admiral, conditional on your acceptance of the position.

As you know, Starfleet Intelligence is responsible for gathering and analysing information concerning foreign powers, and carrying out covert investigations regarding possible threats to the Federation. Following Richard Edgerton's reorganisation of the departments within Starfleet Intelligence, it is also now responsible for the activities of the organisation known as Section 31, and current command policy is to retain that set-up.

Having suggested your name to the Federation Council, I am delighted to report their unanimous approval to your undertaking this new role.

You would bring a wealth of experience to the department, having spent much of your career working in the Intelligence field, and your successful organisation and leadership of the New Alexandria project has convinced Starfleet Command that you are the perfect candidate for this position.

Please accept my assurances that you would be free to run and shape Starfleet Intelligence as you see fit, headquartering in either New Alexandria or here on Earth (or both, as you see fit), operating under the authority of the serving Secretary of Starfleet and the serving President. The Head of Starfleet Intelligence is also a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and as such, is required to be present at all Presidential briefings classified Secret or higher. You would also be required to re-organise your department to clearly delineate the roles between mainstream Intelligence, and the role of Section 31 within the wider department.

I very much hope that, upon reflection, you will accept Starfleet's offer, and if so, look forward to working with you.

Yours sincerely,

Marie-Claire Martine
Secretary of Starfleet

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Location: Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco
Scene: Main Lobby -> outside Presidio


Prior to their arrangement, Kane met Siobhan Reardon in the main lobby of Starfleet Headquarters. The building was perennially busy, but nowadays people moved around like they had a purpose they were happy with. Richard Edgerton and his fascistic organisation were already becoming a memory.

What was not a memory was the recent Council meeting. It was all over FedCom in a variety of permutations - what it meant for the future, who would be Earth's replacement on the Council, and how Humans were reacting. It seemed like every man and woman on the streets of San Francisco had been asked their opinion on the matter by FedCom, and the results were split. There was shock, to be sure, but there was also shame. Many people spoke with humility or embarrassment, but there were many more who reacted angrily, like they believed that Humans had done no wrong and that they deserved to remain on the Council. It was a debate that was not going to go away any time soon.

Siobhan Reardon seemed distracted, more so than usual, and Kane did not envy how he was about to complicate her life even further. "Have you heard?" she exclaimed as she approached Kane. "Have you heard what they're doing to my ship?"

Kane shook his head, motioning her forward. They moved out into the Presidio proper, basking in the winter sunshine. It was a bright day, and the Presidio was full. Nearby, a journalist was broadcasting a story, or some Starfleet people were standing around talking, or some tourists were taking snapshots of the building itself. There was a clear view all the way over to Golden Gate Bay, with its famous ancient red bridge receding into the distance.

"No, what's happened?" Kane asked her.

"They've decided that the Ambassador-class is being mothballed," she said bitterly. "Too old a design - can you believe that? Coming up on a hundred years now, they said. Have to look to the future, they said."

"So the Zhukov is going to be - "

"Decommissioned and ultimately scrapped. You don't know how lucky you are having a ship like the Phoenix."

Kane looked uncomfortable. "The Phoenix's future is undecided."

"Well, the Zhukov's is. I don't know what I'm going to tell my crew." She paused a moment, and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "It's been a long few days. It feels like my life is falling apart."

"Maybe I can help with that." Kane produced the PADD from behind his back. "Read this, and please remember, we are in a public place."

Siobhan looked at him in confusion as she took the PADD. She activated it and started to scroll down through the data. "What are these files?" Her eyes narrowed. "Wait, this one - it's Dexter Marxx's medical records. And his last known transporter pattern record. How did you get a hold of these?"

"They were held aboard the Jenner while she was part of the fleet," Kane said, referring to the Hippocrates-class medical frigate that had acted as Starfleet's hospital ship during the recent crisis. As a precaution, all medical data of everyone in the fleet - almost one hundred thousand medical records - were transferred into the Jenner's computer banks for use in the event of someone needed emergency triage. "Some pirates operating from the Lavenza system stole them when we were en route to Earth, remember?"

"I remember," she nodded, eyes not leaving the file menu. "But these other files, they're not medical records. They're blueprints - designs for some sort of machine. The Prometh- "

"The pirates were working for the Neo-Essentialists. They had some sort of genetic research laboratory in the Levanza system," interrupted Kane. "They were able to create copies of people with this machine they made, using their medical and transporter records. The machine itself was destroyed, but its records and blueprints were not."

Siobhan looked at him in shock. "Are you telling me that we can - that if we built this machine, we would be able to bring him back - oh God." Her hands shook, and the PADD fell down and clattered on the ground. She looked on the edge of fury. "How long have you known?"

"Ever since we went there," said Kane, leaning down and picking up the PADD.

"All those people who died in the battle, everyone who died in Paris, we could - we might have been, might *be* able to - "

Kane held out the PADD. "I've carried this around for long enough. I'm not morally qualified, or brave enough, to hold on to it any more. I'm offering it to you."

"Oh you bastard," she said, the anger appearing in her voice. "Here we are in a public place so I can't scream at you, and you're offering me this. Oh, you're a piece of work, Captain Kane, you're a real piece of work. You don't have the balls to make use of this so you want me to make the decision for you. Why Dex? Why not him over everyone who died? Why him and not Richard Edgerton?"

"Do you realise how complicated it would be to build a machine even resembling this?" said Kane angrily. "It would take you years, literally years, to find all the parts. Several of the components can't be replicated, not to mention the fact that you'll have to go through several failed attempts before you ever hit the right combination of factors that finally makes it work."

"Then why? What not just let them rest in peace?"

"To give you hope." Pensive, Kane shrugged, the public place constraining his feelings every bit as hers. "Don't you think that if there was a way to bring back Solomon Arn, I'd do it? That if I could bring back the fourteen men and woman that died fighting the plasma fire on the Phoenix, that I'd do it? My mother, my father?"

He shook his head, barely keeping his feelings under control. "Listen, Captain Reardon, I've done some terrible things since I started out on this path. The deaths of twenty-eight of my crew  aboard the Discovery two years ago, when I destroyed her to stop the Neo-Essentialists getting back from the Beta Quadrant ahead of us. I pushed Drake into the path of Rawyvin Seth's disruptor on Limbo because he was a clone and of no more use to me. I was willing to risk James Barton's life in a space jump to give us a shot at getting through the Aegis shield." He held up his hands in front of his face. "I can't get the blood off. I'm not moral enough, because I've already gone over the line and left it behind.

"But you can," he continued. "If you ever decide to embark on this quest, which will take you years and eat up whatever remains of your life, you'll be second-guessing yourself every step of the way. Are you doing it for him, or are you doing it for yourself? That's why I shouldn't have it. Solomon Arn and Drake, and all those people on the Discovery - I'd do the same thing all over again, do you understand? I'd kill them all again and again no matter how many times they came back, no matter how many times the scenario was replayed. I owe Dexter Marxx more than that. I owe him either a clean life or a clean death. He doesn't need to be used like that."

Siobhan Reardon reached out and took the PADD from him. "I see what you and must have gone through these past few years," she said quietly. "You've made some terrible decisions. If I was you, I don't think I could live with myself." She affixed the PADD to her belt. "I hope I never see you again, Captain Kane."

She turned away from him and walked away through the sunshine of the Presidio, one hand clutching the PADD at her hip. Kane watched her go.

From the shadows behind a nearby pillar, Byte stepped forward and came to Kane's shoulder. He regarded Siobhan from a distance, then turned to his commanding officer. {{Now that you have given Captain Reardon a copy, should I delete all files pertaining to the Prometheus Protocol?}}

A shadow fell across Kane's face, and his features hardened. "Do you really think I'd let sentimentality get in the way of having such potential power in the future?" He turned to Byte. "Save the files, and execute subroutine 'Clean Slate'."

The android processed the request. A moment later, its features twisted up in confusion. {{I am in the Presidio of Starfleet Headquarters. How did I get here, Captain?}}

Kane watched Siobhan disappear into the crowd. "You accompanied me while I decided to take a walk." He turned to the android. "Didn't you, Mister Byte?"

The android's features lit up, like a child that had remembered something it had forgotten. {{Of course, Captain, I remember now. I apologise, sir, I experienced a temporary memory access malfunction.}}

Kane patted the android's shoulder, the afternoon sunshine warm upon his face. "Don't worry about it, Lieutenant. Don't worry about it."

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NRPG: In fifty years' time, in the 5th Edition FRPG, and following a desperate obsession that has no doubt led to a number of tragedies, a dying Siobhan Reardon might finally connect the correct dots in some isolated laboratory, and a certain long-dead Vegan Admiral might step out of the steaming birth chamber of a new Promethean Device into a new life.

He might be needed to overthrow the Evil Galactic Overlord and his army of clones who have conquered the Federation and enslaved all your characters.

But that, as they say, is another story ;)


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
former 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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