Date: Tue, 13 Jun 1995 18:30:22 +0400 (EDT)
From: Lord Admiral Nelson <jknelson@telerama.lm.com>
Subject: USS OBERON - Council Chamber, Helven III
NRPG1: I hope I haven't bitten off more than my fare share of the story
line with this post. If so, someone let me know. I'll hold off posting
this to the newsgroup for a day just in case.
NRPG2: Well, I guess I found Lt. Merik (or is it Mirek? I've seen both,
but I went with what I saw in your most recent post--I think. <G>) Anyway,
it looks like we've had a bit of a cross-post, April. I'll attempt to
make a quick fix here in an effort to maintain continuity, but I'm afraid
I'll have to do a back-post sometime later in order to cover the
Ready-room conversation between Stae-faan and Dana. (That is, April,
unless you would like to let us know what we talked about. <G>)
RPG:
Stardate: 70613.1815
> The Commander turned his attention to Esn. Caster at OPS. "Ensign,
> please have a yeoman from the OPS department meet us in transporter
> room 2."
> "Aye, commander."
> Stae-faan moved to the turbo-lift doors."Gentlemen..." he said,
> gesturing to the doors. "Let's not keep the Percs waiting."
"Oh, and Lt. Merik," Stae-faan added, addressing the new OPS officer
who was studying the mission briefings at the library station. "Please
call Lt. Commander Tabak to the Bridge. When she arrives, you may assume
your station at OPS. Until then, you have the Conn."
Lt. Merik's eyes widened in surprise. "*Sir*?"
Stae-faan smiled. "As I said before in the Ready Room--welcome
aboard the Oberon." With that last comment, the Commander allowed the
turbo-lift doors to close, leaving a somewhat stunned Lieutenant Merik to
take a tentative seat in the center chair. A moment later, she tapped her
comm-badge. "Lt. Merik to Lt. Commander Tabak. Please report to the
bridge--immediately!"
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"That was quite a surprise to pull on our new officer," Thomas
commented as they stepped into the transporter chamber.
"A career in Star Fleet is full of surprises," Stae-faan observed
wryly. He had been feeling much better lately, the call of the storm
having receded to a level which no longer required constant restraint. "I
think the Lieutenant will be quite capable of managing things until Lt.
Commander Tabak arrives."
"Of course she will," agreed Lawrence. "But still..."
The two broke off from their friendly banter when the Yeoman arrived.
"Yeoman Taresque reporting as ordered," the man stated crisply. At the
Commander's gesture, he joined them on the transporter pad.
"I assume the coordinates are set?" Lt. Christie asked the
transporter Chief.
"Aye sir, but I'm going to have to make some adjustments to
compensate for an atmospheric disturbance at the beam-in site."
Owen frowned. "Please elaborate."
"There's a storm front moving through the area. I guess weather
control is another area of technology not up to par with the Federation
standard. There--I've got it. Ready to energize."
"Proceed," Commander LuCypher directed. But even as the transporter
beam engaged, the First Officer wondered if perhaps it would have been
better were he to have remained behind.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Perc Narial scrutinized the council chamber, his gaze sweeping the
circular room before turning upward to the great window at the top of the
domed ceiling. A grey, cloud-filled sky was all there was to be seen, a
strong, steady rain spattering against the transparent apex of the dome.
All around him he could hear the faint whispers of the council. There was
no denying the tension in the air. Soon the representatives from the
Federation would arrive. Once more he found himself reviewing their
plans, concerned that they might have overlooked something. But nothing
appeared amiss. They were ready.
Narial turned to the man seated to his left. "Arent," he said. "What
were your thoughts regarding this Commander LuCypher?"
Perc Arent gave his colleague a sly smile. "He seemed an honest,
trusting individual," he explained. "Perhaps even a bit naive."
"In other words, just the type of man we were looking for."
Arent nodded. "I'm confident we can use the Oberon's sudden change
in command to our advantage."
"He said Tremaine was coming," Narial countered. "We can ill afford
having a Betazed ferreting out our true intentions."
Arent brushed the concern aside. "If we can accomplish the
objectives set for this first meeting, her arrival should not matter. We
will have what we need."
Further conversation was discontinued as their attention was drawn to
the center floor, about a meter below their dais at the front of the
chamber. As they watched, the Federation representatives materialized
from thin air.
"An impressive technology, wouldn't you say?" Arent commented.
"One of many we for which we could find great use," Narial added.
Perc Arent rose to acknowledge the newcomers, crossing his arms
across his chest, then opening them in welcome. "Greetings to you,
Commander LuCypher, and to your associates. Welcome to the High Council."
The Commander returned the greeting, introducing his fellow officers,
and expressing his pleasure at this opportunity to reconsider the Helven's
petition to join the Federation. Perc Arent felt the first shiver of
doubt as the Federation officers moved to take their seats at the table
prepared for them at the base of the dais. There was something more to
this Commander than what he had observed in their ship-to-planet
communications--an aura of intensity and alertness that made him question
his initial observations. The other officers also seemed a bit more
'formidable' than what he had expected of Star Fleet. Their Chief of
Security, he saw, was plainly wearing a weapon at his side--something he
had not anticipated from a representative of the Federation, but an action
clearly in keeping with Helven custom. Arent allowed himself a moment of
grudging respect for the gesture, even if it was only symbolic.
Discussion of an agenda for studying the Helven petition ensued. With
each passing minute though, Perc Arent found himself more and more
unsettled by the course of the proceedings. On the surface, all seemed to
be going as planned. The questions posed by the Star Fleet officers had
all been anticipated in advance--their responses carefully rehearsed. But
Arent found himself more and more unwilling to face the Oberon's First
Officer as he responded to their inquiries. He felt almost transparent
before the man's penetrating gaze--his carefully polished half-truths and
deceptions sounding glaringly obvious as such each time he spoke.
He sees right through us, Arent thought. He was sure Narial had come
to the same conclusion. It was clear that their position was, in some
infathomable way, deteriorating rapidly. If they continued in this
fashion, they would be ruined. Already, he could sense the Commander's
grim determination to expose their lies--to compel from them all of the
things they strove to keep hidden--to reveal the true purpose behind their
petition. The meeting had to be stopped.
A rumble of thunder drew Arent's attention to the window at the top
of the dome. An electrical storm? Rain was common, but weather of that
intensity was quite rare on Helven.
"Gentlemen," he said. "I believe we have accomplished enough for
today. I suggest we adjourn for now and pick up again sometime tomorrow."
Perc Narial glanced quizzically at his colleague, understanding his
decision, but wincing at the abruptness with which he had broken off the
talks. Not good, Arent, he thought. Not good at all. This move would
only be seen as a sign of weakness to their detractors, especially Perc
Trallien. But what else was there to do?
"One last question before we close," Lt. Christie declared. "Quite
naturally, we have a great interest in the Bonaventure. I realize we have
not yet discussed the vessel, but I was wondering if there would be any
objections to our sending an away-team over to study her from the inside."
Narial hesitated, but Perc Arent quickly spoke up. "By all means, do
so," he said. "It was our intention to replace the Helium with a standard
atmosphere so you might visit without the need of environmental suits, but
if your curiosity is that high, we certainly won't ask for you to stay
away."
"Thank you," Christie said. "Knowing that, we--"
"NO!"
Owen turned, startled at Commander LuCypher's shout. An initial
search of his memory banks could find no information that would justify
the fiery brilliance emanating from the man's violet eyes.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
From the moment they had arrived, Stae-faan felt himself struggling
for control. The call of the storm, strong, but manageable aboard the
Oberon, flared with renewed strength the moment he had materialized on the
planet. By sheer force of will, the Commander brought the tempest within
under his control. He had a mission to complete, and with Tabitha gone,
his presence was essential.
The proceedings however, only made things worse. Every word spoken
by the Percs was gilded with deception. His recognition of their cleverly
disguised misrepresentations served only to feed the building pressure of
the storm. Even when they came to understand that he knew of their lies,
they continued. Stae-faan had hoped that such recognition of their
perfidy might bring out some measure of the truth, but the Percs stuck
doggedly to their duplicity, unable apparently, to accept that there might
be any other alternative beyond deceit.
What were they hiding? With each new question, his 'maerel' reached
outward, drawing on the storm, growing stronger--demanding that they
abandon their intrigues. And each time he was confronted with yet another
lie, Stae-faan's control slipped a little more.
Abruptly, Perc Arent indicated that enough had been done for today.
His decision frustrated Stae-faan---he was not yet ready to allow Arent to
slip away. But there was little he could do to prevent it. He was about
to signal the Oberon to prepare to bring them back aboard when Lt.
Christie put forth his question regarding the Bonaventure.
Perc Arent's answer pierced the subterfuge like an arrow.
The lies--the deceptions--the complex intrigues built to disguise the
truth beyond all recognition. He had seen this all before--had lived it
before. On his Earth--and on another.
The Bonaventure had come here from Earth. And now Perc Arent was
allowing them to board it. He was eager for it.
"NO!" he shouted, his voice echoing with the thunder of the storm
outside.
"Stae-faan!" Thomas exclaimed, staring at his friend in complete
surprise. He made to put a hand on the Commander's shoulder, but the
First Officer leapt to his feet, his hands grasping the discussion table
and effortlessly upending it.
Stae-faan LuCypher strode over the overturned table, his violet glare
focused on the Arent and the other leaders of the Helven Council.
Immediately, their guards moved to react, but the power of Stae-faan's
song swept through them, a burst of emotional fury that dropped them in
their tracks. Dimly, Stae-faan realized that he had lost the battle. The
storm raged within him without restraint. He was "Hir'rom"---an 'echante'
without control.
Perc Arent cowered before him, wailing with terror he could never
have imagined. "WHERE IS IT?" LuCypher demanded. He grabbed the Perc by
the collar of his vestments, his fiery gaze burning Arent to the depths of
his being. "YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE IT IS!"
Lt. Christie, caught off guard by the completely unexpected actions
of his commanding officer, now reacted with calm, calculated precision.
"Commander LuCypher. You must release Perc Arent at once." Stae-faan
made no response--Arent was still in his grasp, the other council members
staring in stunned silence. Even Thomas and the Yeoman seemed affected.
Was the Commander some form of Psychic? That would explain a great deal.
Regardless, it was clear the man had lost control. The entire mission was
in jeopardy--if not already ruined. He had to be stopped.
"Commander, please." he shouted, drawing his phaser with great
reluctance. He had been constructed to protect human life. A complex
series of evaluations had been necessary before he found himself able to
even take this step. "Commander, if you do not desist, I will be forced
to shoot." Nothing. With no other recourse open to him, Owen set the
phaser to a light stun and fired.
He watched as Commander LuCypher dropped Perc Arent, whirling to face
him, violet fire blazing in his eyes. How remarkable, Owen thought. The
phaser hit had done little more than gain his attention. Still pointing
his weapon at the Commander, Owen tapped his comm-badge. "Christie to
Oberon. Requesting four for emergency beam-out."
"NO!" Stae-faan shouted. There was a brilliant flash as lightning
struck the dome, burning through the transparent polymer and knocking Lt.
Christie to the ground. The First Officer strode over to tower above the
Lieutenant, a distant part of him wondering how badly Christie had been
harmed. "You don't understand!" he exclaimed, as he bent to examine the
Security Chief.
Faster than any human could have possibly managed, Owen Christie
bounded to his feet, his hands clasping onto LuCypher's arms, pinning them
to his sides. For a long moment, he watched the Commander's eyes burn
with supernatural brilliance, as if he were attempting to affect him as he
had the others.
"Lt. Owen Christie," Stae-faan whispered at last. "You have no
soul. In all the ways that really matter---you don't even exist."
The Commander's words disturbed him in a way no other statement to
him ever had. But even as he acknowledged this, he felt the first tingles
of the transporter beam drawing them home...."
Respectfully submitted,
Commander Stae-faan LuCypher
First Officer
USS OBERON NCC-0111
Kurt Nelson
jknelson@telerama.lm.com
NRPG: Brian, I think it's up to you as to if or how badly Owen was
damaged by the "zap".
Matt/Judi: Is that enough "havok" for the mission? Or perhaps
too much. As I said earlier, let me know.
Everyone: So, just what is waiting for us on the Bonaventure?
I'm sure someone will come up with something. :)
NELSON'S 1ST LAW OF DEK-HOCKEY: If the opposing team doesn't block your
shot on net--someone on your own team will.