Received: from [66.218.67.193] by n42.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 08 May 2004 03:50:17 -0000 X-Sender: stephen@trekiverse.org X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 62092 invoked from network); 8 May 2004 03:50:16 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.167) by m11.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 8 May 2004 03:50:16 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO grouse.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.116) by mta6.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 8 May 2004 03:50:16 -0000 Received: from sdn-ap-028dcwashp0103.dialsprint.net ([65.177.96.103]) by grouse.mail.pas.earthlink.net with smtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1BMIqq-00029j-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Fri, 07 May 2004 20:50:12 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Alt.StarTrek.Creative Virtual Staff Office Message-ID: X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.92/32.572 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.116 X-eGroups-From: Stephen From: Stephen X-Yahoo-Profile: oldmanasc MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Fri, 07 May 2004 23:49:46 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW DS9 Telling, PG13, 1/5 (Jake vs. Nog, Post-Valiant) Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Yahoo! Domains - Claim yours for only $14.70 http://us.click.yahoo.com/Z1wmxD/DREIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM ---------------------------------------------------------------------~-> Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 06 May 2004 04:06:31 GMT In: alt.startrek.creative From: gojirob@aol.comendspam (Rob Morris) Title : Telling Author : Rob Morris Contact : gojirob@aol.comendspam Archive : www.southroad.com/brightfame Series : DS9 Type : Follow-up to the events of the S6 DS9 episode, ‘The Valiant' Characters : Jake, Nog, DS9 Late S6 Cast, ‘Valiant' guests in flashback Part : 1/5 Rating : PG13, for rough tides in a friendship and in Starfleet Summary : The fault line between Jake Sisko and Ensign Nog has always been finds out that being right is no comfort when it may mean losing his friend forever. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------- Telling by Rob Morris RED SQUAD AND COURAGE By Jacob Louis Sisko I would very much like to be writing a fluff piece right now, the first of many. I would like to have it so that these fluff pieces were merely the beginning of a career's worth of stories concerning the legendary exploits of Captain Timothy Watters. I would also like to have it so that years from now, Captain Watters and I could be heard exchanging stories of this war, and, God help us, any wars that come after this. I would like my old friend to needle me about how I doubted he could pull that first great covert mission off, and how I was proven so very, very wrong. But I can not write such a piece, even if I thought my editor would accept it. Because Cadet Watters and all but two of his elite cadet squadron are dead, and it is largely his fault. I will not say it was all his fault, for he had accomplices. Accomplices like his executive officer, Cadet Farris. Accomplices like myself. No, I will not tell you that a non-combatant locked in the brig somehow undid the whole ship. Whoever my biological paternal grandmother really was, I don't posess that sort of power. But I played my role in sealing the Valiant's fate, just as surely as I am writing this. You know the basics from certain accounts already available through channels official and unofficial. At this time, I can only add to it my point of view, and my own perspective, and hope that I can fairly tell the story of a group of cadets who had the courage to do everything under the stars except head for home, as was their true duty. At this point I suppose I should pre-empt some questions, so as to keep the focus on my topic. Firstly, I am Jake Sisko, and I am still the coward who ran in battle and left a friend behind to possibly die, and who survived to speak about it all only through the same dumb luck that had me firing blindly at attacking Klingons, only to collapse a roof on them instead of just myself. I don't speak defensively on this because of grief given me by Starfleet personnel in general. In fact, as my father predicted, all too many of them tell me they saw their first combat in my account. As often happens, it is those who have seen the least combat that judge my actions the most harshly. Yet at least most of them are open about their low opinion of me, resulting from this. As I will relate, some held this view without making me aware, and this served their cause as much as I did. Another simple fact is that I did not choose to follow my father into Starfleet. The only qualifier I'll offer there is that when I told him my choice, we did not face a war. Somehow, the perception is out there that I decided against the Academy just as Dukat landed on DS9 with his new Dominion allies. That is no more true than the prejudicial story of my friend Ensign Nog bribing his way into Starfleet. If you met the two of us, you would rather wonder why I ever considered Starfleet, and why Nog ever considered anything else. He is a natural officer, and his mustering forward when war began was not an accident, anymore than was his piloting the runabout we were using to and from Starbase -----, which is when we encountered the Valiant. Jem'Hadar patrols can strike anywhere, but they are not everywhere. All I can say about the one that attacked us is that it was unusually bold, being that far into Federation territory. The Founders don't send them out to breed chaos. Its against their nature. With the Vortas planning it all, no strike just happens, and targets of opportunity may as well not be there, for the most part. They will fire on a hospital ship if its in the kill zone, but they will not strike it just to strike it, unless that is the whole of their plan. No hesitation, but also no wasted shots or resources. That is the Dominion way. That said, there we were, and there we almost weren't, as our runabout was destroyed all too easily. A wiser being than me once said that there's always someone stronger. That's what the Dominion attacker found out as Valiant decloaked and rescued us. I flatly concede several things to Red Squad, and one of them is my life and well-being. But whatever their skill and prowess, I am very glad that they were using a Defiant-Class. I was there when they were built, for no other purpose than turning back and killing the one enemy that may be more implacable than the Dominion. And while I did not lay out one sheet of armor plating, nor install a single circuit, nor do anything that makes the ship a battle-turner, I did give it one thing that I have received permission to tell you about. While my father and Captain Shelby were working specs, I researched Starfleet history. As I looked, I saw something that roughly defined the 2260's, known by some as Kirk's Golden Age. Phaser banks and photon torpedoes are still with us, and they were there before 2260 as well. But one thing has been done away with, power and accuracy needs trumping compactness. These were the handheld Type-1 phasers, the ones that could be hidden away in a clenched fist, if one were careful. That time has been called a 'cowboy' era, and these simple killing machines were a cowboy's weapon. So when my father asked me on a lark if I had any notions about the outer aspect of Defiant's appearance, I told him about those old weapons, and the simple menace they conveyed, their size aside. So that is why a Defiant-Class really makes me feel safe. Because this is a ship so very advanced and powerful, Starfleet felt confident enough to let a kid dictate how it looked. I like to think my choice was a good one. In the end, though, I remain a writer, someone who did not choose Starfleet despite the fact that nearly all my friends and family belong to it. Well, my grandfather doesn't, but as he is very apt to tell you, his own grandfather did. See, while my father is the heroic Captain Benjamin Sisko, my great-great grandfather was the decidedly non-heroic Admiral Brock Cartwright, the man who nearly brought us all to a deadly final war with the Klingons in 2293. The defeat suffered by him and his group of conspirators was the last great accomplishment of the man whose era I studied, Captain James T. Kirk. For some people, Starfleet is what Ambassador Spock called in the eulogy for his dear friend-- 'the first best destiny'. Some though, are apt to lose themselves in a place they do not belong. People like myself, my ancestor the Admiral, and people like Red Squad. It seems odd, even as I write this, to compare myself with a group of young people capable of running a starship, not to mention a months-long campaign of harassment against a decidedly bloodthirtsy enemy. But I also feel confident in saying that they did not belong in Starfleet. For while I am not Starfleet and likely never will be, I do know some simple things about it. One of the most fundamental is this : You Must Take Orders. You must take orders from the boldest admiral with the most brilliant plan for ending the war in one stroke. You must take orders from the most weak-kneed Tactical Officer, who at times seems capable only of cutting and running. You must take orders from the Captain only trying for glory, and from the Captain concerned only for his ship and his crew. You can not like orders. You can not like who's giving the orders. You can raise objection to the orders. You can, within a certain reason and stricture, even question the orders. But a lot more often than not, you must obey those orders, and be prepared to do so quickly. I knew that I wasn't, so after a lot of nerves and sleepless nights, I told my father news I know he was at least a little thrown by. But I could not have separated what is often the necessary conflict between the stated mission and the orders of the moment. And that is why I compare myself to Red Squad, who knew only the mission they created for themselves, and the orders they felt like taking. Not that I felt this way when Nog and I first came aboard Valiant. We were grateful to be alive, and perhaps a bit in awe of our hosts. Based on nothing more than their coming home alive, with Valiant whole and a few pursuing enemies destroyed, Red Squad would have been heroes. If they'd docked at DS9, I would not have been surprised to see my father request that many of them be mustered forward to his command. And yes, I would be writing that fluff piece I spoke of. For what they pulled off in that first instance was remarkable and noteworthy and praiseworthy and several other positive adjectives that fail me. What a story it might have been. Nothing became clear right away, or even very quickly at first. At the start, I was pleased for my best friend, who had both the distinction of outranking the Squad that had once rejected him and then being asked to play a vital role in their astounding effort. Once again, he was where he belonged. But it did start to emerge, a little at a time, that I was certainly not where I belonged. Watters' definitely had a hint of disappointment in his voice when he recalled that I, as the son of Captain Sisko, had opted out of Starfleet. That he knew about this threw me, til I recalled meeting Wesley Crusher during a stopover on DS9 as he trained with the being known as The Traveler. He had told me that the Academy grapevine was flatly unbelievable. During the period of his disgrace following the dissolution of his own Nova Squad, ironically the predecessor to Red Squad in many respects, he found out that a series of practical jokes aimed at him were directed through this grapevine from afar by a crewmember serving aboard The Enterprise-D, whom he had previously been involved with, to express her disappointment in his downfall. He added that her vast foreknowledge of him, once a sign of her attraction, now chilled him on many levels. There can be no doubt that the Academy is a rough and tumble place, meant to prepare cadets for what is an even more rough and tumble career. I decided that I could not have taken it. That I considered this choice to be mine and perhaps my father's business alone I now must count as the first sign of my deep naivete. If reporters seem to ask questions that we should know our subjects won't answer, it is solely because we don't know for certain what someone will and will not answer until we ask. If a reporter can be too pushy, they can also be too timid, and no one ever complains about one who's too timid. The classic image of the beleagured military spokesofficer fending off tens of variations of the same question they have very politely refused to respond to is both overblown and more dead-on than anyone on either side is comfortable with admitting. But again, if we don't ask, then we are just as derelict in our duty as that officer, were they to yield up choice information before their superiors deemed it appropriate. A reporter must also accept that certain structures are apt to be more closed against them than others. Failing to remember or accept this was my next great mistake. I learned little that Cadets Watters and Farris hadn't told me initially, as I questioned the other crewmembers, save that none of them wanted to be questioned much, and that they only wanted to be asked questions that enabled them to sing the praises of Watters. While my friend Nog never fell into lock-step with this mind-set, he did quickly become ardent in urging me to take the evidence of our own senses above any reporter's methodology. Most of those senses told me what he was suggesting. That we were alive, thanks largely to this group of remarkable cadets who had done several things that were just short of miraculous, and who were now looking at immortality. Forgive me if I sound racist, but Nog is by heritage much better at arguing a point than I could ever hope to be. Only in retrospect did my next big error hit me. I was arguing with a friend and roommate as a friend and roommate. I was allowing the regular back and forth that exists between two people with a short but fair amount of history to interfere with a serious discussion about a potentially dire situation. In fact, I should have bypassed all that and talked as two people who know how Starfleet runs. No, I don't wear the uniform, and you can add to that what you will. But I grew up next to it. The finest people I know live in it, and some have died and will die in it. I'll accept criticism of that uniform, but it better be spot-on, or you'll hear from me. Accuse me of the cowardice I admitted to when I started this. Just don't tell me I don't know how Starfleet runs. I was there during its finest hour, when the Wolf came to our door. Is there circuitry lining your face? Are you taking orders from a central mind? No? I know a lot of the people you can thank for that. I know some of the ones who drove the monsters to dust. I've met the man they violated and who played a role in my mother's death. And I only wish I'd sounded this vehement when I talked to Ensign Nog, because it is the Ensign, the only commisioned officer on that ship, that I should have been talking to. I became so focused on who I was not that I forgot who I was, and so I also forgot to remind my friend of who he was. The plan Watters presented before us was audacious. Yet that I knew of, he had the backing of his late Commanding Officer, and the existence of himself and his crew was a fact beyond dispute. Nog, presented with a challenge worthy of Chief Miles O'Brien, felt certain it could be done. I was less stunned than delighted when it came off. The scan was made, and on so many levels, the Dominion's newest warship was in Federation hands. You don't need to know Starfleet or be a reporter to realize what this meant. The enemy would send out their worst, and our forces would have them before sensors even registered the new warship's approach. One major engagement with the Dominion utilizing these fatally compromised ships could concievably even end the war. For wars comparitively bigger than this one have turned on less. Mentally, I began to write the fluff piece I spoke of. Forget Nog. I was going to be Captain Watters' biggest booster. I even imagined hearing a few less snickers about the callowness and inexperience of the young. And all that could easily have become reality. I cannot truly speak for the possible errors of others. But again, this would have been a good time to ask Nog to assume command. Again, though, this was not what I did. I don't know what innate stupidity posessed me to simply assert what I thought my father would have done. I was not and am not my father, and as Watters himself had reminded me early on, I was not Starfleet. I repeatedly said what Benjamin Sisko, who was not there, would have done. How he would have taken the scans and darted back to safety. In fact, even as I did this, I half-wondered when they would simply tape my mouth shut, or the equivalent. It was clear that I wasn't getting through to them, and that I was annoying them all, including and perhaps especially my best friend. What was really going on there would become clear. But for then, I felt I had to try and dissuade the crew from its new goal, destroying the Dominion ship they had just risked so much scanning. How I went about it confirmed anew how much I had to learn. By this point, the only person on board who would speak to me was Cadet Dorian Collins. She seemed nervous about her position and her place within Red Squad. Did I exploit this? I hope I didn't, but I was growing desperate. Despite the expertise at hand, and this was considerable, I couldn't help but recall the last time I had seen an entire fleet face one overlarge ship that in theory should have gone down in plasma flames. That one ship was shaped like a cube, and it took apart fifty ships like they were nothing. One of its successors nearly took out Defiant itself, staffed by the best of the best on Deep Space Nine. And unlike the Borg, the Dominion wasn't known for leaving irrelevant, crippled foes alive in its wake. It was from Cadet Collins that I learned of Watters' darkest secret. He was regularly taking very strong stimulants, and barely sleeping at all. People who don't sleep can have waking dreams. Worse still, they can end up living in those dreams, and taking others in with them. Seemingly dismissed except for her limited medical expertise by the others, something I've heard called for 'ringbanger' syndrome, Dorian was at first willing to talk, just a bit. Then, she warned me not to ask any more questions, just as Watters and Farris had. Nog did the same, when I brought my evidence. Was I angry with him, or with the others, as I finally was taken off to the brig? Yes, but not as upset as I was with myself. For it was only when I was alone and wholly unable to affect things any further that I saw the role I had really played. Even in a group as small and tight as Red Squad, there had to have been questions about Watters' actions. Supressed, kept silent, discouraged, sure. But non-existent? I couldn't believe that. As Watters and Farris grew ever bolder, how to shut down those questions must have been a concern. Then they rescued me. A reporter who had Starfleet blood but failed to join up. A self-confessed coward in a critical instance. Someone who had stayed on DS9 when it became Terok Nor again. A yapping mouth that wouldn't shut up and wouldn't stop asking questions. I was a godsend. An outsider to rally against. A unifying force to drive their children's crusade. They showed that they were tolerant, and then I blew that. As the Valiant came apart under the fire of a warship that didn't care where its weak spot was supposed to be, I was rescued by my friend from certain doom. Jake Sisko hadn't caused the Valiant's loss, or the deaths of its crew. But nor had I done one damned thing to stop or even slow it. All my naivete did was speed things along. In the anterior Sickbay on Deep Space Nine after we were rescued, Nog admonished me to tell the truth about what happened. The truth is, we none of us came off very well. But I can only give an accurate account of what I saw happening, and my role in it. Until Starfleet's main investigation is done, and I can offer a more comprehensive view, I hope that this meets with the standards of Ensign Nog, in my view, one of the only heroes of that debacle. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------- DEEP SPACE NINE, 2375 His reading done, Nog disdainfully tossed the PADD back at Jake. "I thought I asked you to tell the truth." After he left the cabin, Jake sat, stewed, and punched the table a few times. Then, he hit the transmit button on his comm-unit and sent the article to his editor. TBC...... -------------------------------------------- "Your would-be attackers don't like you. Your would-be rescuers don't like you. Harry, *most* people don't like you." - Peter Kirk to Harry Mudd, 'Lawful Warrant' -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Awards Tech Support http://www.trekiverse.us/ASCAwards/commenting/ No Tribbles were harmed in the running of these Awards ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Fri May 07 23:56:40 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n48.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.67.25]) by condor (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bmiTq3UY3NZFjK1 for ; Fri, 7 May 2004 20:52:52 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13543-1083988269-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.66.97] by n7.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 15 May 2004 03:13:44 -0000 X-Sender: stephen@trekiverse.org X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 34391 invoked from network); 15 May 2004 03:13:42 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.216) by m14.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 15 May 2004 03:13:42 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO turkey.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.126) by mta1.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 15 May 2004 03:13:42 -0000 Received: from sdn-ap-039dcwashp0077.dialsprint.net ([207.9.128.77]) by turkey.mail.pas.earthlink.net with smtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1BOpcF-00040v-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Fri, 14 May 2004 20:13:36 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Alt.StarTrek.Creative Virtual Staff Office Message-ID: <8l2ba0tg0p3ligu7jahrvlogaeh0190f7u@4ax.com> X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.92/32.572 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.126 X-eGroups-From: Stephen From: Stephen X-Yahoo-Profile: oldmanasc MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Fri, 14 May 2004 23:12:57 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW DS9; Telling, 2/5 (Post-Valiant, N, J) PG13 Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 13 May 2004 15:45:23 GMT In: alt.startrek.creative From: gojirob@aol.comendspam (Rob Morris) Title : Telling Author : Rob Morris Contact : gojirob@aol.comendspam Archive : www.southroad.com/brightfame Series : DS9 Type : Follow-up to the events of the S6 DS9 episode, ‘The Valiant' Characters : Jake, Nog, DS9 Late S6 Cast, ‘Valiant' guests in flashback Part : 2/5 Rating : PG13, for rough tides in a friendship and in Starfleet Summary : The fault line between Jake Sisko and Ensign Nog has always been finds out that being right is no comfort when it may mean losing his friend forever. Note : I apologize for the missing Starbase number in 1/5. I had meant to fill that in, but could not find that info on any ep guide sites. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Telling by Rob Morris O'Brien nodded at the younger officer, who stood in an anxious pose reminiscent of his father, and perhaps even classically Ferengi. "Ok, Nog, I've read it again. I just don't see what has you so upset. I mean, you come off rather well." "But Chief, what about Red Squad?" "Them, they don't come off so well." Miles saw the ensign make a full turn, as though gathering energy with which to power his argument. "Don't you see? This is a cleverly disguised anti-Starfleet diatribe. Jake walked into it with an agenda, because he resented the restrictions Captain Watters placed upon him." O'Brien now was certain he had made a mistake getting involved in this. Memories of himself, Julian Bashir, and a possible cure for the Jem'Hadar's addiction to Ketrecel White all ending in a messy clash came back at Miles, along with the realization that the memories weren't all that old. "Nog, he addresses all that, and seems to understand his own role in running afoul of the power structure that *Cadet* Watters had built up. In fact, I was reminded of his article on his dealings with Weyoun during the Dominion takeover. Ehh, he flagellates himself a bit much, and the style switches a bit abruptly between his personal opinion and what's known beyond dispute, but not so much you can't tell which is which. If it is a disguised anti-Starfleet piece, then its a damned clever disguise." The young man spoke with the fervor of a Bajoran Mass Cleric trying to persuade a group of Pagh Wraith cultists back to the path of The Prophets. It was getting on O'Brien's nerves. "But that is how he draws you in. He hides his contempt for how Starfleet is run by way of a few, vague patriotic-sounding statements. He slams Starfleet with his left fist while stroking it with his right palm." For some reason, O'Brien found this image more puzzling than disturbing. The motion mechanics of it wouldn't play in his engineer's mind. "Nog, just how did you arrive at this conclusion?" "Simple, Chief. Red Squad was composed of Starfleet Academy's very best. Well, to so harshly criticize Starfleet's best is to thumb one's nose at all of Starfleet, his other words aside. I am so disappointed in Jake." Miles decided to use a small lie as an opening to break away from his sometime-protege's dark night of the ledger. "Well, I guess I am, too. After all, he failed to use certain information I gave him in the article. Well, we'll speak to him about it later. Right now, I have to..." Nog stopped him, as Miles was half-sure he would, but prayed he would not. "Chief, what information didn't he use? It could be useful in showing how very biased the article really was." O'Brien frowned. If he couldn't be gentle in ditching Nog, then any method would have to do. "Nog, the truth is, he didn't use my information because it couldn't be verified. It failed to meet journalistic standards of proof. I was a little annoyed because I felt my expertise should have been enough, but Jake explained how a personal account should not be mixed with even an expert's opinion. My information would not have made Red Squad look one tiny bit better. In fact, it would do very much the opposite." Nog stood there, very much uncomprehending. "Chief?" O'Brien painfully realized that his own experience contained no smooth and neat analog to what Nog was now putting himself through. "Did you ever even once, during or since the Valiant, ask yourself why the Jem'Hadar were attacking at or near a Federation Starbase a fair distance within our territory?" "We--we're at war." It all seems so simple to the young, thought O'Brien. "Well, yes. And while their attacks have grown bolder and deeper, they are also always marked by a hideous level of coordination. No improvisation. No Kirk-like bending of the rules. Just Schwarzkopf's Law Of Overwhelming Force, combined with a willingness to fight on up to 90% losses in some cases. Now, we've turned that around on them, and even forced them to get tricky and trickier still. Yet they still tend not to maraud, and like Jake said in the article, they almost don't believe in targets of opportunity. Your pod escaping the Valiant points to that. So why a relatively small craft attacking a hardened target of limited military or psychological value? Ferenginar would hardly change sides if the Starbase nearest them were to be destroyed." Nog nodded. "One of the Lesser Ninety Rules Of Acquisition states that 'A Partner Who Knows Occasional Losses Is A Partner Doing Business'. You don't just run off when a shipment or two goes bad, or a warehouse burns down." "Okay. So why was this Dominion ship attacking either your runabout, the Starbase, or both?" Miles took his silence as an answer. "Nog, I firmly believe that the target in question was Valiant itself. Maybe they thought this Starbase was where Valiant docked. Maybe they thought your runabout was a supply ship. But I'd lay down real money that the enemy craft was hunting the mystery ship that was pounding their patrols. It may very well be, Ensign, that the people who rescued you are the ones who..." "STOP!!!" A glare like that from the resin of a quantum torpedo drop shot off of O'Brien's face. "Did you just raise your voice to me, Ensign?" Nog was breathing hard, and was only technically backing down. "Yes, sir--I did, sir. Wouldn't you be upset if a commanding officer that you deeply respected was being called a maverick and a renegade with possible mental problems?" Miles had no smooth analog. But he had a rough one. "He was. And that's because he was a maverick and a renegade with possible war trauma. Captain Maxwell Of The Rutledge. I visit him twice a year at Tantalus, and he still cries his out, fearful that his actions helped inspire the founding of The Maquis. And Nog? He was one HELL of a lot more correct in his actions than your Cadet Watters. And I repeat--Cadet Watters. Not Captain. Cadet." Miles felt instant regret for his words, and for the harshness of his tone. But in the week since Jake's article had been published, Nog had been completely impossible. Polite words had failed to persuade him to agree to disagree with the majority of those he spoke with. O'Brien decided he would apologize to Rom, if he asked for an apology. But Nog would have to wait a while for anything of that sort. As the Ferengi ensign sat alone, he was visited briefly by his uncle. Quark held to his usual balance of disguised affection for his family and a hostility to the paths Nog and his father had taken. "Regarding Jake Sisko? Teljuq's work on the Uncoded Rules Of Acquisition clearly states that, while it is sometimes neccesary to bite the hand that feeds you, biting it off is always poor form." Nog wasn't taking this. His uncle could only scold him. He couldn't reprimand him. "What makes you say that I bit off Jake's hand?" "All I know, nephew, is that if it were me you allowed to be taken off to the brig by some snot-nosed narcaddict with delusions of grandeur, I'd have you cleaning Holosuite Fourteen with a toothbrush. Number Fourteen is Morn's favorite, by the way." "Uncle, just what are you getting at?" "Simply put, your life-ledger is in the red, as regards your friend. Oh, I warned you against these hu-mons. On the other hand, if you are going to indulge in their tricky gifts of acceptance and free friendship, it might be a good idea to only take these gifts from those hu-mons not convinced of their own emerging divinity. Although, since Jake is part Prophet, I guess he could actually get away with that. This Watters, though? He reminded me of Brunt." Nog was feeling ever more alone. "Captain Watters wasn't convinced of his godhood. Jake's article just makes him sound that way." Quark topped off his nephew's root beer before walking off. "Actually, I formed that opinion about Watters from your personal account of what happened aboard the Valiant. Your father and your Moogie are good storytellers, but I always have to read between the lines with you." Nog next attempted to gain support for his position from what he thought he would be an obvious source. Problem was, these things were not so obvious to the source in question. "Children should not play at war." Nog seemed stunned by Worf's simple declaration. "But, sir. I've heard you say on many occasions that a Klingon boy is counted as a man from the day he can fully lift a bat'leth." Worf downed his prune juice before responding. "That is true. However, those are Klingon boys--and girls. Humans keep their children back, feeling a prolonged preparation period is in order. I am told that until a certain age, Ferengi regard their children as having certain properties of a traded commodity." Nog seemed to shake at those words. But he said nothing, presuming for the moment that Worf didn't know Rom's marriage history. "Which way do you think is better, sir?" Nog felt certain of Worf's answer, and would rebuild his argument from there. He thought. "Master Kor once told me his opinion of such things. He said that Feklehr and Molor and all the beasts of Grethor held less terror for the Klingons of his age than did a callow Iowan farmboy who never saw deep space until he was past two decades old. He reasoned from this that Humans failing to be conquered by the Empire was therefore no accident." Nog moved quickly to recover. "There you are! I mean, Kirk survived Tarsus Four, and Governor Kodos, when he was not even fifteen." Worf looked at the ensign, and it was easy to see that he was not as patient as O'Brien. "That is because he was not a native of that world, and therefore not on any list of the doomed. He ran, because this was all a boy could do. Even a Klingon youth would be forced to do the same. He survived, and became a legal witness to the nightmare when it was done. In short, Ensign Nog, the youngest Captain in Starfleet history for that era--at age thirty-one, not nineteen--lived to become a hero to some and a nightmare to others, because he wished to live and return home. You seem to think your Cadet Watters and his clique were like Kirk. I only wish they had been. For as a cadet, he would have returned home. As Captain Picard and Captain Sisko would have done. Consider the female Captain thought lost in the Badlands, until recently. Why is she spoken of? Because her goal is to return home with all her crew. A glorious life is lived because it is our choice, and a glorious death is died when we have no choice. Inbetween, we live as long as we can, and let fate tell us when glory is to be had, one way or the other." Nog stood up, but wisely did not raise his voice. "But wasn't the final destruction of the Dominion ship an opportunity presented by fate? Wouldn't many Klingons sneer at the Valiant's crew, had they only returned with mere scans and information?" Worf walked away, but turned back one last time. "Fate also uses these opportunities to fool us. As for the sneering? Master Kor also said that in a war, all sides have heroes, and all sides have fools. Your goal is not to die for your people. It is to make the enemy combatant die for theirs." "Did Kor say that?" Worf shook his head. "No. That last part was Patton. But Kor would have said it." Nog got out of his uncle's bar. There was no point talking to his father. Every time Valiant was brought up, Rom simply started crying and held his son. Surely, someone, somewhere, had to see his point of view. But Doctor Bashir was no help in this. "Nog, I will be brutally frank. Cadet Collins told me the types and levels of stimulants Cadet Watters was taking in. Apparently, he read that, when facing the 'Space Amoeba' that destroyed the Constitution-Class Intrepid, that Doctor McCoy had given such things to the Enterprise crew.There's logic for you. In any event, if I myself was taking the cocktail Dorian told me of, I would greatly fear for my life and my sanity. And yes, that is even with the 'extras' my parents placed upon me. Stimulants are for rare or emergency use. They are not available so that a young man may sit in a wrongful chair, assuming he is about to join the ranks of the great ones." If Nog thought he would gain help from Kira, he was just as wrong as he was with Worf. "Yes. Yes, I was fighting the Cardassians when I was younger than you. But Nog? It was never our desire to fight, and certainly it was never our desire for our children to fight. And die. Let's not forget that children who fight are children who die. I've prayed to the Prophets to watch over the souls of your friends aboard Valiant. I almost admire what they did, and what they tried to do. But I've buried too many friends to see the glory in what they did anymore. And it wasn't like it was even neccesary. That Dominion ship wasn't their first superweapon, and it won't be their last. They can produce more ships, more Jem'Hadar, and more Vorta. But where do the families of the Valiant's crew go to make more of them? Besides, didn't you yourself say that Watters rode you all over a cliff or something?" "He was a great man who made one great and tragic mistake. That doesn't diminish him." Kira looked at Nog with realization and then pity. "Blessed Prophets. You think his only failure was in not taking out the Dominion ship?" Nog winced under her gaze. "He could have planned it better, sure. But in the end---" "In the end, Nog, a Defiant-Class ship, one of those that my people depend on to keep the Cardassian flag from again flying over the Vedek Council Chambers, was lost to a group of children playing dress-up. Our Emissary built that ship. It is almost an Orb in the eyes of some. So the Valiant's loss wasn't merely Starfleet's. Don't you dare think that, or compare my youth, spent with the blood of too damned many on my hands, face and hair, to Watters and his crusade." "But what about the article, Major? Jake tries to grab credit for Defiant? Isn't that like blasphemy?" Kira directed him out of Ops into the lift. "He claimed credit for its shape, Nog. Being a writer, he seems to know effective imagery." Nog shot off one more as the lift took him away. "And how to manipulate it." Garak merely commented that placing headstrong children in charge of such a ship was a scheme worthy of his Obsidian Order days. Morn went on a tear, and as always, talked just about forever, til Nog feared his lobes falling off. Nog later spied Jake waiting by an entry ramp as passengers debarked. He considered ending this, but decided to wait til Siisko had met whoever he was waiting for. Who he was waiting for made Nog's eyes go wide. "Jake?" "Hi, Dorian." It was Cadet Collins, looking somewhat slimmer and many times less haggard. To Nog's shock, she actually lightly embraced him. "Its still hard to believe we survived all that." Jake chuckled. "My spine still hasn't forgiven me for that trip in the escape pod. You look good." "Well, mental and physical rehab for eight weeks will do that. I never told you, but I was taking 'help' of my own during the voyage." "You did seem to be in withdrawal in the pod, but I thought it was just cramped space and exhaustion." Nog emerged from his remove, fuming and nearly foaming. "Dorian--how can you stand there and hug him like that? Didn't you read his article?" Collins nodded. "Yes. Before he sent it to his editor. I approved it, to the extent that matters." Nog rolled his eyes. "Didn't you read what he said? He said none of Red Squad belonged in Starfleet!" Collins bit down, then spoke. "Nog, I spent that mission feeding candy to a drug addict who didn't even respect me. The person I was under Tim Watters command didn't belong in Starfleet. Any more than---never mind. I'm not supposed to talk to you, anyway." "Why not?" Jake tried to speak. "Nog, you better go and talk---" The Ferengi turned on him and yelled. "Shut Up! When I want to hear more distortions, half-truths, and outright lies, then I'll make an offering to you, Mister One-Fourth Deity!" A number of Bajoran heads turned at these words. Before things could escalate further, Jadzia Dax appeared. "Ensign Nog. I am to escort you to see Captain Sisko. Now." Her look, partly borrowed from her husband, left no doubt that she meant every word. On the way to Captain Sisko's office, he spoke. "I suppose I don't have to ask your opinion of the article." Dax shook her head. "Well, Jake's style still needs polishing. But I'd prefer not to hear him called a liar. And Nog? I am hereby ordering you to appear at the next Bajoran Mass and apologize for that low-class, ignorant comment. Got me?" "Aye, sir." "Also, to answer your question, I've had lots of children, and I hope to have more with Worf. I've sent them off to battle. But only when they showed they were ready. Not one damned minute before. Further, consider this. We know of all kinds of alternate realities. Worf has seen quite a few, and we all know about the Mirror World. Now, just for a moment, imagine a reality where strong, knowing children heroically take up the slack for lazy, ignorant adults. Maybe one or two of them even emerge to save the whole cosmos from an unimaginable evil. Do you see it?" Nog closed his eyes and smiled just outside of Sisko's office. "Yes, I can see it, like it was really there." "Good. Now, Nog, think of one more thing about that alternate universe." "Yes, Lieutenant?" She had him open his eyes and look at her. "This isn't that place. Now go see Ben." The other world popped like a balloon, and Nog still felt like the one he inhabited was deflating. Sisko gestured for him to sit down. "Ensign, the Valiant Tribunal will be held here, on DS9. We're going to hash all this out, once and for all." "Yes, sir. I saw Cadet Collins coming on board, and presumed as much." "You presumed a lot, Nog. But I won't go into that here. Our informal meeting on Valiant is in the past, and the tribunal lies just ahead. I really wish you hadn't been talking to all those officers, about the article." Nog puzzled. "Why not, sir? Aren't I allowed?" Sisko seemed less angry than concerned for Nog. "You are allowed. But now, all those people can be called to testify, as to what you said." "Tes-Test--Testify--sir?" Sisko now almost looked ill. "Ensign. I am relieving you of duty and confining you to the guest room in your father's quarters. You are not to speak to Jake or anyone in Starfleet except me, and your counsel." "Counsel!?" "Against my wishes, one of the matters that Starfleet will decide at this tribunal is whether or not you should be charged with dereliction of duty, for not taking command of the Valiant away from Cadet Watters. I'm sorry, Nog. Jadzia will walk you there, and again, you must speak to no one except me, your counsel, and your parents." "Sir, did the article---?" "This was in the pipeline long before that hit, Nog. Now go and rest up. It begins in three days." Sisko watched him go, not resuming his work for a full ten minutes. As Jadzia led him to Rom's quarters, Nog was indeed silent and he looked like he'd been hit with a club on heavy stun. At the quarters, Leeta greeted Dax and her stepson. When the door closed, Nog blankly walked over to the wall and set sound dampeners to their maximum, a level well above most such devices, thanks to Rom's skill. Nog then sat down on the couch, and began to cry his eyes out while Leeta held him, telling him something he could no longer make out above his own sobs. -------------------------------------------- "Your would-be attackers don't like you. Your would-be rescuers don't like you. Harry, *most* people don't like you." - Peter Kirk to Harry Mudd, 'Lawful Warrant' -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Awards Tech Support http://www.trekiverse.us/ASCAwards/commenting/ No Tribbles were harmed in the running of these Awards ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. 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Fri May 14 23:35:17 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n12.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.67]) by cockatoo (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1boPTJ5tL3NZFkl0 for ; Fri, 14 May 2004 20:31:38 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13571-1084590896-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com Received: from [66.218.66.30] by n7.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 05 Jun 2004 23:01:40 -0000 X-Sender: stephen@trekiverse.org X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 81842 invoked from network); 5 Jun 2004 23:01:39 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.172) by m24.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 5 Jun 2004 23:01:39 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO falcon.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.74) by mta4.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 5 Jun 2004 23:01:39 -0000 Received: from sdn-ap-022dcwashp0220.dialsprint.net ([63.191.160.220]) by falcon.mail.pas.earthlink.net with smtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1BWkAS-0004us-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Sat, 05 Jun 2004 16:01:36 -0700 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Alt.StarTrek.Creative Virtual Staff Office Message-ID: X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.92/32.572 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.74 X-eGroups-From: Stephen From: Stephen X-Yahoo-Profile: oldmanasc MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Sat, 05 Jun 2004 19:00:29 -0400 Subject: [ASC] NEW DS9; Telling, 3/5, PG13, Post-Valiant Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 X-ELNK-AV: 0 Yahoo! Domains - Claim yours for only $14.70 http://us.click.yahoo.com/Z1wmxD/DREIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 05 Jun 2004 13:14:03 GMT In: alt.startrek.creative From: gojirob@aol.comendspam (Rob Morris) hTitle : Telling Author : Rob Morris Contact : gojirob@aol.comendspam Archive : www.southroad.com/brightfame Series : DS9 Type : Follow-up to the events of the S6 DS9 episode, ‘The Valiant' Characters : Jake, Nog, DS9 Late S6 Cast, ‘Valiant' guests in flashback Part : 3/5 Rating : PG13, for rough tides in a friendship and in Starfleet Summary : The fault line between Jake Sisko and Ensign Nog has always been finds out that being right is no comfort when it may mean losing his friend forever. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Telling by Rob Morris While Sisko empathized, he moved to end the pointless meeting. "What would you like me to do?" Rom looked the captain in the eyes from where he was seated. "Tell me that you won't let them send my boy to prison. He hasn't done anything wrong." Ben had always known there was more to this man than most saw. That it came forward most fiercely in defense of his son surprised him not at all. "I'll do what I can." Rom shook his head almost violently. "That's not enough! I want your word, as a father of a son, that you will not let them take Nog away from me. He's my only child, Captain." Sisko gave the word he knew he couldn't keep. "Ensign Nog is assigned to my command. God and Prophets help anyone who tries to change that. Because that's the kind of help they'll need." Rom looked and sounded grateful. "I know what the regulations say, Captain. I know that you won't be the one who makes that call. But the fact that you would say that when I asked it of you means everything to me. Sir? Is it at all possible that you could persuade Jake to talk to Nog again? He's so lost, right now." "Rom, Jake has tried to speak to Nog since the article came out. He's mostly been rebuffed. But now, I can't permit them to speak. Jake is a main witness at the Valiant tribunal. Once that's done, we can try and reconcile them again." Rom closed his eyes. "By then, it may be too late. Is it possible that Jake had it wrong? That maybe he was--quite understandably--bitter about his being taken to the brig?" Sisko knew enough to not see this as an attack on Jake or his truthfulness. "I asked him about that. He conceded that yes, he was bitter. But Rom, both his original deposition, along with those of Nog and Cadet Collins, all paint a very similar picture of the loss of the Valiant and its crew of cadets. If anything, Jake's article is mild compared to Collins' supplementary deposition. It seems Cadet Farris began to grow fond of private verbal abuse as time went by." "Then why isn't she charged? Or this Watters character? Or Collins herself? After all, she fed her CO narcotics, without even really being licensed to do so." "Nog was the last commisioned officer to set foot on Valiant. He was the only real Starfleet presence on that doomed ship." Rom went for the door, still feeling like his beloved boy was being scapegoated. "And also the only Ferengi." Ben allowed the man his bitterness, which to no small extent was his own as well. No one in Starfleet was saying that the loss of the Valiant had been Nog's fault. Yet at the same time there were forces that needed to search for a head to lop off, large lobes or small. Jake had called it right. Watters and his bunch, who could have on multiple occasions returned home as heroes, were instead posthumous embarassments to the uniforms they had yet to truly earn. "Personal Log. Did all of Starfleet contribute to what happened aboard the Valiant? Once upon a time, the only maverick in it was a man with a will of neutronium and enough common sense to know that he could not be a maverick on all occasions. Now? Now we are a fleet still weakened by significant officer defections to a cause that never seemed to know just who it really opposed, til the real opposition came in and wiped them away. We are a fleet still wondering whether the treaty that drove these officers away was ever a good idea, particularly in how it was administered. We are a fleet that seems subject to the whim of every individual admiral with an agenda. And our Captains? My devil's deal with Garak is merely the sin that I am fully cognizant of. In this climate, is a group of delusional cadets even worth noting?" He stopped recording. Of course it was worth noting, he knew. The ideal had to be drilled into the young so that when it came up against the reality, harsh and ugly actions would remain hasrsh and ugly. For what would come if the harsh and ugly were the ideal to start with? How long before such cynicism bred nightmares like the Cardassian court that once held Chief O'Brien came to Earth, playing to deep fears and high ratings? No, he thought. Ben Sisko was a good man who had brought down another good man for no other reason than that man's coup would have forever sacrificed the highest ideal to the harshest, ugliest realities possible. Admiral Leyton's insular delusion had not been allowed to destroy the Federation. Nor would the delusion of Cadet Watters, and nor would the delusion that putting Nog in a penal colony be allowed to destroy a young officer. Not so that those who had done nothing to stop the Valiant's loss could say they had in fact, done something. "Constable? Please come to my office. I need your---expertise." When Odo was seated, Sisko began with a courtesy. "Are you sure you don't mind doing this?" Odo shook his head. "Captain, any question and answer session with a Starfleet officer that doesn't involve the words, Dominion, Founder, shapeshifter or the like is time to be treasured, as far as I'm concerned. Besides, on some levels, I know that keeping Nog in Starfleet turns his uncle's stomach. Which, needless to say, is something I live for." Sisko shrugged. "Constable, guide me. No one in Starfleet will say a word about why Nog is being made an example of. I can guess the basics, but the specific whys and wherefores are eluding me entirely." Odo seemed to lightly chuckle. "Poor Jake thinks he's naive. But at least he realized that a power structure trying to protect itself will close ranks against outsiders." "I'm open to suggestions, Constable. Very open." Odo held up an initializer plug from a small Kecuit trade vessel. "The smuggler in question had done such a good job in covering his tracks, even Quark was legitimately unaware of his activities. So it was that lacking all docu-trail evidence, I was forced to look into his ship's maintenance logs from while he was docked here. Seems he had avoided a lot of telling docu-logging by making several short trips between here and Bajor. Done the right way, you can erase your footprints by increasing your bother in making the trips. Most people would never do that. No patience for it, when one big--and thoroughly logged--trip will accomplish the same thing. Yet by making all those short-trips, he wore out his initializer plug, which had to replaced three times in the same week. Some, on the other hand, go years without even seeing this kind of plug. Confronted with the hole in his schemes, he confessed to everything." Odo lay the plug down on Sisko's desk. "First rule---look for the evidence that your opponent doesn't realize is evidence." Sisko held up the small part. "I don't think there's even this much left of Valiant. Where would I start?" "By asking the ridiculously basic. Like--what was Red Squad?" Sisko could not see what Odo meant by this. "They were a squadron of elite cadets from Starfleet Academy." Odo raised an opened hand. "What made them so special? Who declared them so, and why?" Benjamin began to feel like his chair was moving backwards. These were some very pointed, if simple questions. He punched up the files on the Academy and its hierarchy. He was surprised by what he found. "Well. That shows what I know. I would have thought that Red Squad simply distinguished itself and moved into its favored position as time went by." Odo came around the desk and looked at the screen. "No. It rather seems they were formed from the best of the best of all the other squadrons, in the second half of their first semester." That thought gave Sisko a chill. "In other words, they went in, already knowing that they were the cream of the crop." Odo kept looking over the file as he spoke. "I recall Doctor Bashir telling me that, in solids, too much cream clogs the arteries." Sisko nodded. "Or it is made into butter, which goes rancid under hot lights. Alright. If this was a program within the Academy structure, what was it called?" Odo went back around the desk to sit down. "Or--who was its sponsor? Academic rewards are often named for someone. Perhaps someone who can even be contacted." Sisko shook his head. "Not likely. The Red Squad was formed under The Excellence In Cadets Program, also known as---" Ben rolled his eyes as he finished. "...The James T. Kirk Award." Odo almost snorted. "Which is just a bit like giving an Andorian child Shran's Oath-Dagger and asking them not to draw blood with it." Sisko was forced to agree. "You take a group of idealistic, talented young people, and you tell them they are the very best, heirs by proxy to a galactic legend. Then, you give them a misguided secret mission supposedly meant to ensure the future security of The Federation, a mission sanctioned by one of Starfleet's topmost admirals. The Admiral is punished. They, on the other hand, are sent on a field trip aboard the Fleet's newest, shiniest, most powerful ship. Watters didn't need stimulants. His ego alone could have knocked out a whole Dominion Fleet, by the time they were through massaging it." Odo nodded. "Puts certain things in perspective, doesn't it? But does this give you anyone to talk to?" "Yes, it does. Kirk's real heir, at least in blood. Professor Kirk, head of Exobiology and a Senior Regent at the Academy, is the son of Kirk's brother. He's also Admiral Saavik's bondmate. As a family member, he'd be given courtesy considerations on how such a program is run. Ironic to consult him, though." "How so?" Sisko smiled, albeit a bit grimly. "The story goes that, after the Denevan Parasite Plague killed his parents and brothers, a very worshipful seven-year-old Peter Kirk asked his Uncle what any seven-year-old would probably ask." Odo guessed quickly. "Uncle, let me stay here. With you." "Kirk couldn't allow it, of course. The boy would have been a casualty at some point, and that was assuming the entire ship wasn't lost. That Enterprise was the only Constitution-Class to complete its five-year mission and return intact. Many others met horrible fates, including one noteworthy vessel called : USS Defiant. Kirk may have eventually called this life a game for the young, but he didn't mean that young. Later on, Professor Kirk was one of the few to argue against families on starships. After Picard's crew had their run-in with the Aldeans, it was almost reconsidered again." "But you've never had your doubts about it, have you?" Sisko looked a bit misty as he finished with Odo. "I didn't. That is, until Wolf 359." Sisko left his office after placing the call to Professor Kirk. It would be several hours before a response came, owing to the older man's schedule. So Ben decided to go to Garak's for a fitting -- among other things. "You present a puzzle to me, Captain. Most of my customers who gain weight don't do enough excercise to properly distribute it. And don't tell me its the middle of the war. I've seen many a fighting Gul turn into walking Cardassian pot pies, as it were." "Garak, if I ask you for your advice or opinion, will it remain at that?" The tailor smiled. "If that's where you wish it to remain, Captain." "Then that's what I wish. As a former spy who knows the Federation and has seen the aftermath of many a failed mission on all sides of the borders, can you offer me any insight as to why they're bothering to target Nog in this Valiant fiasco? Dereliction of duty ranks right up there with treason and cowardice in the Starfleet criminal code, and I have to wonder why the Fleet is trying to push it in so morally murky and awkward a situation as this. There were only three survivors, and Nog is responsible for saving them all. Wouldn't you think the powers at Starfleet would have better things to do?" Garak cut a swatch of cloth from the material meant for Sisko's 'downtime' uniform. It was meant to be comfortable yet official looking, so that if the captain was in it when a crisis struck, he could at least feel acceptably attired. "Captain, how is Gul Dukat doing?" Sisko was puzzled, but answered the question. "I told you. The last I saw him, he was completely insane. I'd expect he's more coherent by now, but not really any better." Garak pulled up a holo of the casual green tunic worn by Starfleet captains a century back. To his design he added the belt-strap with Starfleet insignia, but discarded the rest. "One might say that he's been on the edge for quite some time. Possibly since losing this station the first time, during the withdrawal." Sisko assumed for the moment that he was being guided, and so did not yet demand Garak return to the subject he'd come to talk about. "Well, we all know what caused the final push. Poor Ziyal." Garak nodded sharply. "Exactly. The daughter who betrayed him by choosing me. The daughter whose existence caused his family to disown him. The daughter who stayed with him during the lowest period in his life, and was a palpable reminder of that period. Think of the games Dukat has played with Major Kira. Yet has he ever once suggested that Tora was the Major's half-sister?" "No. The timeframe is all wrong for that to be possible." "Captain--Dukat can manipulate the facts well enough to have made my father believe he was The Emissary. My point is, despite how close Tora and the Major were--no manipulative innuendo. Unusual for a man like that, don't you think?" Sisko made as simple a declarative statement as he knew how. "He was a father. He loved his daughter." Garak smiled. "As Tain in his way loved me. I seem to recall Mister Worf mentioning a Ferengi Daimon who targeted his former captain on two occasions, at great expense, all to avenge a lost son. Oh--and during one of your last excursions to the so-called Mirror World, did I or did I not see you throw 'Smiley' O'Brien against a bulkhead upon your return, threatening his manhood if he should ever again use Jake as bait to get you to cross over?" Sisko hung his head, just a bit. "That was unfortunate. But when he made that 'joke' about restarting the Empire on his side..." "Captain, I am not judging you. In fact, my own desire to never meet my own fawning counterpart makes me applaud any effort to end this literally narcissistic series of adventures. Besides, it only proves my point. A child's death or the threat of such can reduce a Starfleet officer to barbarism. It can make a high-ranking Ferengi forego profit entirely, prevent a spy-master from simply tying up a loose end, and it can break a master of survival and escape as though he were nothing. Do you follow me?" Suddenly, Sisko did. "The parents of the Valiant's cadet crew. But why Nog? Cadet Collins is alive, as well. I don't want her punished either, but she at least was a long-term part of their structure." Garak bid Sisko be still as the main fitting scan commenced. "Worried parents, and I imagine they were worried, tend to form support groups. Doubtless, the same parents who are demanding 'justice' know the girl's parents, and don't wish to hurt them or her. Jake is a civilian. But Nog?" Garak held up his right hand, then counted off using his fingers. "I am a worried parent who, after many hard months, is now a grieving parent." First finger. "Why were the children unsupervised?" Second finger. "Why didn't you try to find them?" Third finger. "What kind of story are you telling me? I know that *my* child would never engage in such a wild scheme as you're describing." Fourth finger. "What were they doing out there in the first place? Starfleet will never answer that one right now, so I imagine things only got worse from there. Which leads to the last big question." Fifth finger. "How is it that a Ferengi is in Starfleet, and why didn't he, a commisioned officer, sit on those children and make them go home?" Sisko shook his head. "That's not entirely a fair question." Garak began the replication process, made a bit slower by the fine details such a piece required. "Don't tell me that. I am a grieving parent. I want someone punished. Is there anyone who can or will be punished, or do we have to make the press aware, and remind everyone of the Leyton fiasco?" Sisko had of course realized that Nog was being used to show that someone was being punished. He just hadn't settled on it all being so very simple a thing as this. "Let's go back to Admiral Leyton's attempted coup. Its a matter of public record. Sending Red Squad away doesn't help him, and their role was a footnote in most news accounts." Garak ran an analysis of the replicated uniform against a sample of Sisko's DNA, to check for allergies or other reactions. "Hmmm. Captain, putting aside intense trauma and the like, how do young people handle situations with very good or very bad results?" "I suppose--that they like to talk about it. Your first date, or the first time your face gets slapped. Taking your bike up that large hill or falling off of it. Your wedding day, or how they left you at the altar." Garak packaged up the new uniform. "Then that is why Red Squad was secreted away. I'd wager that they were talking about their 'prank', likely to good audience response. What could Starfleet do? Expelling them would only give them more time and now incentive to say how a group of overstuffed kids nearly brought down one of the great powers. So instead, they are rewarded. Out of sight, out of mind, and when they return, people would want them to talk about Valiant and their trip--not the coup." Ben thanked Garak and left. Back up in Operations, Sisko saw all the Starfleet officers standing at attention. A few Klingons were in evidence, staring at Sisko's office in wonder. "Old Man?" "Benjamin, you have a visitor." "Dax, tell everyone to stand down. This looks like a cadet review." "That's because every officer in here now feels like a cadet once again. Your call got some results." Sisko walked into his office, and there saw a man, who, as a child and then as a young man, had known seven of the greatest legends of Starfleet history. He didn't quite look over a century, and the traces of the great one's profile were easy to make out in his face. The only aid he used in walking was an African spirit-staff, an inheritance from one of those legends. The voice was also eerily reminiscent of the history tapes. His moustache detracted from the eery resemblance not at all. "Captain Sisko, I'll be running the tribunal. And I offer you this guarantee. Even in the worst case, your Ensign Nog will spend no more than a year in Auckland. This thing has been out of hand for far too long, and I'm acting to end it." That this man was running things made Sisko believe that it would all be fair and above board. But that Starfleet had sent a member of one of its premiere families also reenforced that Nog was in trouble, for they were taking it all very, very seriously. "Welcome to Deep Space Nine, Professor Kirk." -------------------------------------------- "Your would-be attackers don't like you. Your would-be rescuers don't like you. Harry, *most* people don't like you." - Peter Kirk to Harry Mudd, 'Lawful Warrant' -- Forwarded to ASCL by: Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Sun Jun 06 23:27:47 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n50.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.67.38]) by penguin (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bxaNP3HF3NZFl40 for ; Sun, 6 Jun 2004 20:28:00 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13678-1086578877-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.pas.earthlink.net!elnk-nf2-pas!newsfeed.earthlink.net!wns13feed!worldnet.att.net!199.45.49.37!cyclone1.gnilink.net!gnilink.net!ngpeer.news.aol.com!audrey-m2.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Lines: 784 X-Admin: news@aol.com From: gojirob@aol.comendspam (Rob Morris) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Date: 02 Aug 2004 16:42:35 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Subject: NEW DS9; Telling, 4a/5, (Post-Valiant Tribunal S, N, Ja, Adm. PK) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=utf-8 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Message-ID: <20040802124235.25456.00002569@mb-m29.aol.com> Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160267 X-Received-Date: Mon, 02 Aug 2004 09:43:00 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title : Telling Author : Rob Morris Contact : gojirob@aol.comendspam Archive : www.southroad.com/brightfame Series : DS9 Type : Follow-up to the events of the S6 DS9 episode, ‘The Valiant' Characters : Jake, Nog, DS9 Late S6 Cast, ‘Valiant' guests in flashback Part : 4a/5 Rating : PG13, for rough tides in a friendship and in Starfleet Summary : The fault line between Jake Sisko and Ensign Nog has always been finds out that being right is no comfort when it may mean losing his friend forever. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Telling by Rob Morris Personal Journal, Captain Benjamin Sisko A great man has come aboard Deep Space Nine. A man who has earned all his own glory, and would be a Federation legend regardless of his heritage. He has done the hard work of trying to extend that fragile bubble of Paradise out from Earth to the entire quadrant. Unlike many in his position, he has always seemed to understand the realities of the harsher parts of our civilization. Again, from his overcoming of disabilities as a boy to his victories in the first Cardassian conflict, he has earned all his own glory. But he knows, as does almost everyone else, that it is the light from the reflected glory he stands in that truly defines his life, from the time he was a small orphaned boy envied by billions, to now, when he has survived almost all those he is still regularly questioned about. *Did he really say that Russia invented everything?* *Was she as beautiful and patient as they say?* *Did he become impatient, awaiting his own command?* *Did he really pull off all that many miracles?* *Did he fight with the other two out of frustration or love?* *What was he like after he..came back?* Then comes the one that trumps them all, in life, death, rebirth or what have you. A question that, in some form, he wil likely be asked, even on his dying day. *What was he really like?* It is a question I intend to ask him, while he's here. And I met the man. But Admiral Peter Claudius Kirk, Mostly Retired, is not here to make small talk of the legends he traveled with as a child. Nor is he here to at last accept the Bajora Medallion Of Peace. After all these years, I am told he is still bitter about being forced to withdraw from Bajor sector, thus finalizing Cardassia's long-term occupation plans. But Gul Telmak had a Lucifer cannon aimed at Bajor's largest continent, and he was never noted for his reluctance to use such weaponry. Yet when Telmak mentioned in that uniquely Cardassian way the possibility that the cannon could one day be aimed at Vulcan or Earth, then Captain Kirk ordered it destroyed in three shots. Then he withdrew, oweing to the alternative firepower still aimed at Bajor. It was decades again before the Cardassians so much as breathed on Federation terrirtory. The Bajorans, who know only too well how little reluctance all Cardassian Guls have for laying waste a world, said that Peter Kirk bought them the 50 years they needed to be free. He sees it differently. I can only hope he sees Nog's judgement differently, as well. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------- Captain Sisko rounded the corner and at last found Professor Kirk, a man looking very good for the age his uncle hadn't reached. Before him were a gaggle of children including Molly O'Brien, all lost in the tale he told of a golden age. "So Kang agreed with my uncle--let's just laugh the monster out of here. However we feel about each other, let it be honest and not some crude trick to amuse a cowardly entity, is what Kang said. So together they laughed, and laughed, and the monster left all upset, because monsters hate being laughed at. It takes their power away." Molly raised her hand. "But where were you, Professor? Did you get hurt when everybody was fighting?" Kirk shook his finger in the air. "No, Mister O'Brien. I wasn't on the Enterprise at all. I was on Earth, living with my grandma. See, back then, kids weren't allowed aboard starships. I spent a month there, after my parents got sick and had to go to Heaven. But I couldn't live there." Molly apparently really liked being called 'Mister' like her Daddy, but her smile fell away in an objection. "But that's dumb! Your uncle was neat, but he should have let you stay. I lived aboard the Enterprise, before it got blown up." Kirk saw that many of the children apparently held the same opinion. "Well, my uncle Jim wasn't being mean. He loved me, and he wanted me to be safe on Earth, where no one gets hurt or killed or kidnapped, and no one just disappears *poof* in the middle of the night. Sometimes, a starship could be a very dangerous place. In fact, some people I met during my month didn't make it back when the ship returned. So, see? I wasn't with him. But I was where my uncle needed me to be. But when I was older and ready, he took me aboard his ship, and we had all kinds of adventures together." One boy popped up and asked a hurried question. "Did you see any space-dragons?" Kirk seemed to be laughing to himself as he shrugged. "Just one. And he was a real stupid-head. Well--heads, actually." Sisko didn't get what he correctly took as an inside joke, but the children seemed amused as they dispersed. Sisko also heard amused laughter from behind him, from Jadzia Dax. "Kang sure sounded different in that story." "Well, Old Man, you can hardly blame the Professor for holding back on some of the nastier happenings during that incident." "I couldn't, Benjamin. But Kang would have. And Mara always got excited when she talked about her confrontation with Chekov." "Excited? Didn't he very nearly sexually assault her?" Dax nodded. "But he didn't. She never forgave him for that." Sighing once again at the wall of Klingon culture, Sisko walked over to Kirk, to begin more comprehensible yet much more painful work. "Admiral?" Kirk looked up from his seat. "I know, Captain. I was just trying to build up my optimism for our youth, prior to your son's testimony. I have a feeling it may take a hit, once I hear some of the first-hand details of the Valiant's final journey. Tell me, is he a willing witness?" Kirk knew of course that Jake Sisko had not been designated as a hostile witness. Sisko understood his question's real aim. "I did not have to persuade him to testify, sir. He wants the record on this cleared up, even if his friendship with Ensign Nog has encountered severe strain from the differences between them this has brought out." "It happens in the best of friendships, Captain. You should have seen Jim and Spock go at it, right before the Gorkon Meeting. The argument of our lives can either break our ties or make them infinitely strong. I wish I could offer you more hope, there." "Its good of you to even try, sir. Tell me--did you argue with your best friend in a like manner? I don't mean to intrude, but since my old friend Cal Hudson defected to the Maquis, I find I ask it often enough, whether I'm conscious of it or not." Kirk nodded. "I argue with my best friend every chance I get, Captain. Just as I have for the past three-quarters of a century. The fun is making up with her." "How is Admiral Saavik?" "Still herself. And very much intent on reminding Alynna Nechayev that it was the holes in her treaty that helped set up this war." To say that Sisko was shocked was an understatement. While he had sometimes held similar thoughts, hearing a senior officer speak them out loud was a great surprise. "I don't know that I agree with you entirely on that, sir. Yes, the DMZ treaty had its flaws, but it brokered a workable peace, at least for a time." Kirk sighed. "Please don't get me wrong--can I call you Benjamin? Alynna is a fine officer and a sharp diplomat. But on this treaty, she badly overreached. Worse, she will never in a billion years admit that she was wrong." Once in the lift, Sisko queried the older man further. "Ben is fine, sir. But how do you see her as being wrong in this?" Kirk stopped the lift temporarily. He looked down. "First, she allowed too much of the treaty to pivot solely on the intentions of the Cardassians, who at the very least have showed a historical tendency to creatively interpret what is and is not allowable. And before you say the obvious--Jim was answerable to other people. The miltary regime on Cardassia never was. Second, she did not obtain provisions for obvious and visible patrols of the DMZ border. That benefitted those who had something to hide. Third, she expected somehow that the Admirals' mantra of 'You Have Your Orders' would smooth every last ruffled feather in the Fleet. Lastly, she somehow expected colonists on the fringe, historically a hugely independent lot, to obey the treaty as if every last one of them was a plebe cadet at The Academy. The first mistake led to mayhem and mischief. The second led to fear that the Federation had abandoned the colonists. The third and fourth errors created The Maquis. The Maquis that became so dedicated to tossing Cardassia out of the DMZ, they failed to recognize that they had a possible victory in the provisional government. They helped destroy that government, inspiring Dukat to join with the Dominion. And that, Ben, is why I and my wife have issues with Admiral Nechayev." Sisko started the lift again. Some of his angry words were hard to refute. When Sisko had been in a Dominion-created simulator, one of its unwitting villains had been Nechayev, another flawed treaty signed and ready to cause harm. But he had also seen the good her negotiating skills had done in the past, and so refused to speculate on the validity of that fantasy's judgement on her. "Sir---" "Its Pete, Ben. I'm not officially an Admiral anymore, and you are no raw cadet, being accused of racism for daring to suggest that the differences between humans and other species had to be recognized and faced up to, as well as celebrated." Sisko felt honored and impressed that the man remembered him so well. "Pete--your uncle oversaw one of the greatest colonial relocations before the DMZ Treaty, after his legendary first contact with the Gorn. Surely there was some resentment then." Kirk stepped out of the lift, and both walked towards the conference room where the tribunal would be held. "Hell, yes, there was resentment. So we told the Gorn to give us five years, if they wanted their territory back. Ironically, Cestus Three was the only place they gave up on, after their terradecimators changed the planet's climate. And we sent patrol ships out to wave at the Gorn. And we sent the Starfleet Corps Of Engineers to help the colonists rebuild. And we asked the colonists where they might like to go. And we got a consensus from those colonists, and this was all done before a single treaty was signed. No top-down 'Just Obey' nonsense. No Starfleet officers feeling that they had to leave and betray their oath's letter, just to keep to its spirit. And no Gorn emboldened by our vagueness, either. We could easily have made a Maquis movement one century back, Ben. But we didn't." Benjamin wanted to tell Peter Kirk that he would have to agree to disagree. But again, the problem came that he wasn't sure he disagreed with almost anything that had been said. Thankfully on that front, the packed conference room then opened before them, with Jake ready to be seated. Sisko immediately noted that Leeta held Nog's hand, and that Nog's stare was nearly blank. His sponsor hoped that the young Ferengi's future was not just as drained-looking. Kirk placed a glance in Rom's direction. He smiled just a bit, as though to attempt to reassure the man. Little could have done that, then. Sisko saw that Quark wore a civilian outercoat Nog bought for him, bearing the Academy insignia. Not everyone on DS9 could be there, but it was fairly certain everyone was watching, especially as Professor Kirk began the hearing with a few words. "Once, there was a young man who ascended rapidly and found himself in charge, or so he thought. A ship named Valiant was involved. But what power he had got to him, and ultimately proved his downfall when he could not see past himself any longer. That man's name was Gary Mitchell. His fate is known to most." Some of the non-humans did ask among themselves about this reference. Martok seemed to be impressed when told how James Kirk killed his own maddened best friend. Quark shrugged at Nog's quick synopsis, while Rom shuddered a bit. "Once there was a man who attempted to take on a foe far too large and powerful, and it took his ship apart as though it were nothing. That man's name was Matt Decker." This time, everyone had heard the legend of the planet-killer. Sisko knew the incidents didn't exactly mesh, but liked how Kirk was setting things up and giving them much needed perspective. Now, the Professor looked directly at Nog. "Once, there was a man who made some serious mistakes, and faced some serious charges as a result. Try though he might, he could not convince his friends and family that he had meant well when he made these mistakes. Bitterly, he realized how his own actions and some small measure of bad fortune had made those mistakes inevitable, and made him realize that he had to change or lose the uniform he had come to hold very, very dear." This time, he flashed a true smile at Nog as he finished. "That man now calls this hearing to order. So relax, Ensign. Whatever happens, happens, and you are not unique in facing this troubled time." Nog did not relax. But the color did seem to return to his face, and he released Leeta's now-sore hand. "Thank you, Admiral. Sir." Benjamin at first wondered why Kirk had gone so far out of his way to comfort Nog. It hit him only slowly. Both entered the Academy--a rough and tumble experience by any standard--with the burden of a legacy. It didn't matter that one had to be lived up to, and the other had to be lived down. People expected things of them for reasons having nothing to do with who they really were. Pride and Prejudice, he thought almost amusedly. Kirk turned to Jake, seated and already sworn in by one of five legal counsels helping to guide the hearing. "Mister Sisko, for the purposes of this inquiry, I am designating you as an outside expert on Starfleet and its affairs. You may not be of it, but from what I've learned, you certainly know of it. Since the facts in this case are largely known, your considered opinion will help us form what will be the final and definitive picture of the loss of the USS Valiant. Are you ready?" Jake looked only at Kirk. Never once at Nog. "I am." "Very well. My first question is, do you believe that you could have done anything to prevent the loss of the Valiant?" Jake shook his head. "No. I may as well have been unconscious or even comatose, for all the effect I had. As I had said in my article on this subject, my poorly-phrased objections to Cadet Watters' plans only helped to reenforce what the crew was comitted to. I'm guessing that my well-phrased objections would have done pretty much the same thing." "Mister Sisko, do you believe that Cadet Collins could have prevented the loss of the Valiant?" "No. Part of the reason I was able to question Cadet Collins at all during the situation was that she was nearly disregarded by the others. She had little medical training, by her own admission. But she had none of the CMO's Power Of Removal. Again, I can only offer my guess, here, but if she did have that authority, Cadets Watters and Farris, again would have merely disregarded her." Kirk changed tacks, shifting for the moment away from what seemed the next logical question. "How did the ship run?" "Very well. Like--like a well-oiled machine. However they came to those duties, they certainly knew them. In fact, I won't hesitate to repeat myself--up to a point, what Watters and Farris pulled off was a miracle. Their only fault--and I'm talking as someone who's done the exact same thing--is that they presumed that, because they knew so very much, that they must also know it all. I guess they were right so very often in the chances they took, one more must have seemed theirs for the taking." "That you could see, did anyone question Cadet Watters on the plans to scan and then later to attack the behemoth Dominion warship?" "On the plan to scan it? I don't think even I really objected. We--were like kids in a construction zone that's half-finished. Even those of us just watching were interested in seeing if they could pull off that crazy stunt. And they did." "And on the plan to attack?" "Well, I saved Watters and Farris the need to wait for one of their crew to object. Maybe--maybe some of them had objection on their faces, but I never heard it voiced. I think a lot of people who could have objected were probably stunned that the attack was even suggested, and so they didn't say anything." "So both the scan and the attack were the will of the Valiant's cadet crew?" "Yes. Or if it wasn't, it quickly became their will. Their unshakeable will." Professor Kirk then lightly went right back to the subject more at hand. "That was the will of the cadets. What of the will of the only commisioned officer on board that ship? Mister Sisko, could Ensign Nog have prevented the loss of the Valiant?" There was a pause, perhaps a pause that went on just a little too long. Finally, Jake had an answer. "No. He could have spoken up, but that is all he could have done." Kirk shook his head. "Mister Sisko, your answer is one or the other. Either he could have stopped the Valiant, or he could not have stopped it. If he could have spoken up, then your answer must be yes." "No, Professor. You're wrong. You asked me if Nog could have stopped Valiant. His speaking up would not have stopped Valiant." "Are you telling this inquiry that, as committed to their windmill as they were, the cadets would have ignored a commissioned Starfleet officer?" Jake breathed in, then sighed just a bit. "Sir, there is another reason why Nog would have been ignored. But through our legal counsel liasions, Cadet Collins and I spoke prior to this. We agreed that it would be better if she gave that testimony, with my confrimation of it on the record when all was done." "If you feel that Cadet Collins can make that reason more plain or more stark, Mister Sisko, then so be it. Yet let me repeat the question in a slightly different way : Could anyone, in your opinion, have gotten Cadet Watters, Cadet Farris, or their crew to stand down and go home?" "I can think of four people who could have done that, Professor. They are my father, Captain Picard, Ambassador Spock, and your uncle. But you would have needed all four of them at the same time, issuing an unambiguous direct order and accompanied by an armed complement. Even then--Watters and his bunch would have put up a fight." "Even then? Facing down that group of officers?" "Yes, sir. Because they believed that the Dominion battleship was their clear ticket to calling those great men their peers. And when a fanatic sees Paradise ahead, you will always be hard-pressed to keep them from getting there at all costs." "Last question, Mister Sisko. Where does Ensign Nog stand in your estimation, as regards the loss of the Valiant?" "Ensign Nog was the only hero on a ship full of hero wannabes. There were reasons beyond wartime need and an old conspiracy that show why he was mustered forward when the so-called elite squadron was not." Sisko was inwardly a bit disappointed when, upon leaving the witness chair, Jake did not sit with Nog and his family, glowing words aside. He still also avoided eye contact with the young man Sisko hoped was still his friend. Cadet Collins was next to testify, looking neither as relaxed as Jake nor as tense as Nog. Her look was grim and sharp, almost as though she were channeling the spirit of the deceased Cadet Farris. But as her testimony would reveal, this supposed channeling was a utilitarian one, and not at all a tribute to her fallen acting XO. Kirk swore her in, and then asked his first question. "Cadet, how is it that you came to serve in Red Squad?" Collins gained a look of someone reflecting on an entire life, rather than a small part of it. "I wasn't in the first cut when the names were announced, sir. At the time, I was grateful." "Grateful, you say?" "Aye, sir. I knew I could be one of the very topmost of the very best, if I did nothing but apply myself. But I wanted a social life, too. Not one of endless parties, mind you. But maybe one where I didn't have to refuse every single social invitation. It was only later I found out my father had filed a protest of my being passed over, despite my wishes. Yet even that wasn't enough to bring me in. There were a set amount of slots in Red Squad, and they were all filled. My average was just over a four and a half out of five, but I could also take in the occasional play, join with friends for a walk to T'Laq's Plomeek Pizza, or whatever. I wasn't going to be your Uncle, or your goddaughter, Captain Garrett, at least anytime soon. But I felt would be an officer perhaps worthy of serving in any of the great crews." Professor Kirk seemed to smile at this phrasing. "A worthy enough goal, Cadet. One I wish more young people would seek." Collins' tension lifted, just a bit, at the compliment. "Thank you, Admiral. Well, I figured with everyone angling to be TNO, my attentions were better focused on honing what skills I had, and then letting chance and opportunity work in my favor." Sisko briefly interrupted the proceedings. "Admiral Kirk? Sir, my apologies. The term Cadet Collins used. TNO?" Kirk sighed, though this was from a distaste for the term, not Sisko's questioning. "TNO, Captain. A term used by many modern cadets who wish to be a Garth, a Picard, a Pike..or yourself. TNO. The Next One. As though destiny can be invited or coerced into tapping you on the shoulder. Efforts to be TNO dominate the lives of some of our best and brightest. Not merely as a dream, or goal. But as a stated purpose, and in some cases, an obsession that needs to be treated." While Sisko digested that slightly disturbing bit of trivia, Collins continued. "It later came out that Cadet Watters original Assistant Squad Leader refused to join the mission given to Red Squad by Admiral Leyton. The one that turned out to be part of his abortive coup attempt. Cadet Parker felt that what was asked of us involved an inherently unlawful order." A thought which made Benjamin mentally say ; "Thank God there was at least one.", as Collins kept on. "When all was done, Parker was kicked out of Red Squad faster than you could blink. I had taken the trouble of raising my average that particular semester as close to a full five points as I could manage, with extra credit and such, so as to safeguard myself against a sophomore or junior grade slump. That, combined with my father's protest, got me the open slot on Red Squad. They all told me I was supposed to be happy, and I guess I was, figuring that fate had told me there was no slacking off. I could not have known what was in store." Collins breathed in. "This next part is punctuated by a number of times I saw things I should have spoken up about but didn't, or didn't speak up forcefully enough--or something. I'm not proud of it. Suffice it to say that my concepts of being in the very best squad and theirs didn't meet. Farris had replaced Parker, and she meant to prove that she belonged in that position." The way of every new XO, thought both Kirk and Sisko. "That I didn't meet up with Squad standards right off the bat wasn't so much of a shock as one particular criterion I ran up against. While I've never been lax in meeting the physical fitness regimen required of each cadet, my toning and overall appearance left something to be desired. I knew this implicitly. Cadet Farris made it explicit. If I wanted to stay in Red Squad, I'd have to come within 98% of my ideal weight, as opposed to the 94% required by the Academy in general, and the 96% required if you're on the Security track. Also, she suggested I'd better look like I met 99% in terms of my appearance--at all times." Kirk stated what every officer and most present knew very well. "Cadet, you are aware that discrimination based on one's physical appearance is very strongly prohibited by Federation Law, Starfleet regulations, and The Cadet Codex?" "I am, sir. But Cadet Farris basically dared me to report her. She said that they could be taken to task for this policy. She then added that the violations that every cadet finds themselves commiting at some point could be enforced with discretion, or to the strict letter. I took from this that even if I spoke up, a way would be found to later throw me out, one that the squad leaders would be well within their rights to utilize. So I did all the things, diet-wise, that I had to. I refused to take any sort of stimulants. Cadet Watters overrode Farris when I only achieved 97% of my ideal weight. He said to her that my having gotten with the program was more important than the actual numbers." Professor Kirk nodded. "Good cop, bad cop. Some things don't change." Collins seemed embarassed. "I was thrown that it actually took someone telling me for me to get that. But see, it wasn't all hard-core. Some of it was just acclimation. Cadet Watters earned our respect by mainly asking the very best of us. The demanding he left to Cadet Farris, and only where it was neccessary. They both rode us, but it wasn't a breaking ride. They knew their stuff, and they were learning more. Of course, we in the rank and file had some questions about who they were learning from." "That being?" "Uh, someone Cadet Watters called the last great Cadet leader, sir. Admiral Paris' nephew. Cadet Nicholas Locarno. It seems he reapplied after his absolute ban was lifted, after his expulsion following the Kolvoord Starburst Incident with Nova Squadron." This twist, Sisko had not known of. During his Academy days, expulsion and a permanent absolute ban on reapplication had been considered one and the same thing. He had heard that Locarno took responsibility for the tragic incident "But whatever mission he was given, Cadet Watters regarded it as a badge of pure honor. This led him to loudly defend Admiral Leyton and his actions to anyone who would listen. He began to sound a bit like..well, like a fascist. I think that Admiral Leyton's attempted coup was in the minds of some inextricably linked with Red Squad. To allow criticism of the coup was to his mind accepting a slander upon all of us, especially him as our leader. He must have talked once too often or too loudly, because one night after curfew we were one and all told to report to space dock, there to board the Valiant." Kirk asked a question Sisko would have preferred not be asked publicly. "And who gave the order to place you on board Valiant, Cadet?" His voice had shifted, slightly. Decades seemed to fall off of it. So did the words 'Nephew Of'. The voice was that of a legend. The Legend. It was deliberate, Sisko realized. The Ultimate Captain by some accountings was asking a repentant Cadet a question, leaving her no potential for wiggle room, even if she were to want it. "That would be Admiral Nechayev, sir. But I suppose I should add that nothing was said as to why we were being sent away. A lot of this is speculation that cropped up on board as we were on the more mundane portion of our cruise." Sisko was on the verge of objecting. Yet whatever Kirk's agenda was, he pursued Nechayev no further in this. "Were there any events of note during the cadet training cruise, prior to the attack?" "No, sir. Cadet Watters did seem a bit depressed at times, and made reference to our 'exile'. But chiefly, he and we seemed caught up in the wonder of where we were. Why ever we were sent away, we were living inside a dream. I think we felt the only luckier young people in all of Starfleet history were either Wesley Crusher...or yourself, sir." "I think both myself and Lieutenant Crusher appreciate just how fortunate we truly were, Cadet. Tell me, other than the tragic loss of the commisioned officers in the crew, was there anything untoward about the events which led to Cadet Watters assuming command?" Collins seemed to light up. She smiled. "He was brilliant. We were like panicked sheep, grazing with our heads down because that was the only direction we knew how to look. We thought it was over, and he refused to let it be. We were lost and alone, but it didn't matter. Our leader had come back. No one at the time even questioned why we had been entrusted with this new mission. No one wanted to." Chapter 4 TBC... -------------------------------------------- "Your would-be attackers don't like you. Your would-be rescuers don't like you. Harry, *most* people don't like you." - Peter Kirk to Harry Mudd, 'Lawful Warrant' NewMessage: Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!bigfeed2.bellsouth.net!news.bellsouth.net!cyclone1.gnilink.net!gnilink.net!ngpeer.news.aol.com!audrey-m2.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Lines: 688 X-Admin: news@aol.com From: gojirob@aol.comendspam (Rob Morris) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Date: 22 Aug 2004 06:09:54 GMT References: <20040822020139.15036.00001977@mb-m02.aol.com> Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Subject: NEW DS9; Telling, 4c/5, (Post-Valiant Tribunal S, N, Ja, Adm. PK) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=utf-8 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Message-ID: <20040822020954.15036.00001978@mb-m02.aol.com> Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160505 X-Received-Date: Sat, 21 Aug 2004 23:10:05 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title : Telling Author : Rob Morris Contact : gojirob@aol.comendspam Archive : www.southroad.com/brightfame Series : DS9 Type : Follow-up to the events of the S6 DS9 episode, ‘The Valiant' Characters : Jake, Nog, DS9 Late S6 Cast, ‘Valiant' guests in flashback Part : 4c/5 Rating : PG13, for rough tides in a friendship and in Starfleet Summary : The fault line between Jake Sisko and Ensign Nog has always been -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Telling by Rob Morris "Ensign, lets start with the most basic question. In your mind, why was the USS Valiant lost and its crew of highly talented cadets almost all dead?" While it would seem and perhaps be bigoted to say out loud, Sisko swore that he never saw Nog look more Human. He was then and there a young officer in a very bad place, and only his own actions could get him out of it. "A series of very bad choices, sir. From Admiral Leyton down to myself, a series of very bad choices. The Valiant was already lost when Cadet Watters refused to do the nearly unthinkable and refuse Admiral Leyton's request. From start to finish, everyone could have stopped it, but it would have required doing what no one could contemplate doing, at that particular moment." Professor Kirk looked at some notes on his PADD. "For the purposes of this investigation, Ensign, I felt compelled to take the somewhat untoward step of asking around about statements you've made, concerning the incident in question. I must say, rather than the repentant and conciliatory tone you've just used, the accounts speak of you defending Captain Watters and all aspects of his command and assigned mission. With not a little stridency in your voice as you did this." Nog was careful in wording, but corrected the much older officer. "Admiral? He undertook that mission without authorization. And it was Cadet, not Captain, Watters." Kirk smiled, a wily smile that again spoke to Sisko of another Kirk. "I know all that, Ensign. I just wanted to see if you did." Nog realized that, far from upsetting a superior of some reputation by his correction, he had in fact passed a crucial, if impromptu, test of what he had learned. He silently hoped that it would be enough to save him. In the audience area, Rom fretted a bit. "Brother? What if this man is going to base Nog's fate all on these silly word-games? Hu-mon phrasing is sometimes horribly convoluted." Quark seemed not to be so worried. "If you weren't an idiot in a state of blind panic, you'd realize the old man is offering him an out. All Nog has to do is say he's wrong in the right ways, and this mess can be done with. But he is wily. Even I almost didn't catch the mistake, except as an old man's memory maybe going on him. He could be setting the kid up." Leeta shook her head rather firmly. "That man could have chosen to be the liberator of a mostly dead Bajor. Instead he pulled back, and gave us a chance to live and endure. He'll give Nog that chance. He just has to take it." As Worf came off one duty shift, he sat by Jadzia, soon to leave for one. "How goes it?" Dax looked over at the Professor. "Curzon once called him a little boy trying to step into Size 25 boots and doing the damndest job of coping with it he had ever seen in an heir to a legend. But he'll task Nog, before this is done. I just hope Nog takes whatever he has coming well." "He will. It is one thing to have those lobes. But mostly, the boy knows how to use them to listen. Besides, I took Kirk's exobiology final. I was forced to give an oral recitation of how that science can be used to guess out an unknown planet's entire history using merely long-range sensor scans. I ended it by concluding that this was impossible. It was that admission that earned me my passing grade. The Professor respects those who learn their lessons. If--if their own stridency does not keep them from that learning, as it nearly did me." Jadzia chuckled. "Vous, Monsieur Worf?" Kirk had another question at the ready, its seemingly direct aim actually being multi-directional, to say the least. "Mister Nog, let me be very specific. Why did you not relieve Cadet Watters of acting command?" Nog gave his first answer. "Sir, there was already an existing command structure. I felt perhaps that violating it would have disrupted the ship's smooth functioning." Kirk disallowed this. "It was an emergency command structure, set up by people who did not yet hold even the rank of Crewman. You are a commisioned officer. So I ask again : Why did you not relieve Cadet Watters of acting command?" Nog tried again, not realizing that, far from leaving the spot he found himself in, he was running in place with deep mud below him. "Sir, Cadet Watters said that the scanning mission, at least, had been authorized by the Valiant's fallen original commanding officer." Sisko felt that, if Kirk had been attempting to channel his father's brother before this, he now seemed to be calling on his uncle's other brother--or more precisely, that nigh-unkillable intellect that had been like James Kirk's brother. "Your reasoning is still flawed. No Starfleet officer would hand a top-secret mission off to a crew of even the very brightest and sharpest cadets. If he actually did this, it was likely thought of in a dying fog. You could have at least requested to see the mission parameters and the authorization protocols. Even as an outsider to their command structure, you were at least technically a peer to Watters, if not his superior. A peer may and should make such a request, albeit tactfully. So again, Ensign Nog : Why did you not relieve Cadet Watters of acting command?" Nog spoke a bit more cautiously now, but still seemed ignorant of how poorly he stood. "Sir, there was reason to believe that the mission could have succeeded. In fact, there was every reason to believe we could permanently remove this battleship, a grave threat to the Federation and the entire Greater Alpha Quadrant. We had the time, the means and the opportunity to strike. Doesn't that count for something?" "No, Ensign. It counts for nothing. Your opportunity was illusory, for any number of reasons that we may never know. You would have had the means using a seasoned and less impatient crew that didn't have to guess at the true capabilities of a Defiant-class. As for the time? May I ask how your grandmother is doing, Ensign?" Nog didn't get this one, and neither did Sisko. But Quark did. He, after all, ended up paying the delivery fee. "My Moogie, sir? She's fine. Heh. She's something of a rebel on Ferenginar. She--well, she wears---" He whispered. "---clothes." Kirk nodded. "Bully for her, Ensign. So, is she dating anyone?" If Kirk's verbal badgering of Nechayev had Sisko feeling he may have to halt the proceedings, Ben had no idea how to stop this very strange tangent the Professor was now on. "Sir--my Moogie is seeing Grand Nagus Zek. That's well known." "Great. Can you deliver a message from me to him?" "Sir, of course I can deliver a message for you. I can always deliver a message to the Nagus." Kirk looked at him. "Then why didn't you? That was your assignment before Valiant, I believe. The question once more : Why did you not relieve Cadet Watters of acting command?" This time, no channeling was involved. One troubled cadet was asking another to explain himself, and to cut through the nonsense and excuses, knowing them all too well and having no more patience for it in another than he could afford to allow for himself. Nog, whose explanations at their best had verve and inspiration, and at their worst sounded like a cornered used-shuttle salesman trying to get out of an explicitly-worded warranty, was trapped. Sisko prayed he was smart enough to see it. "Because I allowed myself to become deaf, dumb and blind in exchange for an adventure, sir. Because I suspended my sense of disbelief and my common sense in general, like I was reading a story or acting in a holonovel. Because I thought I was living in a storybook fable. Because I wanted to be 'First Teen In Space' or 'The Farmboy Messiah'. Because I forgot that, even in those old stories, Mary Sue Johnson died at the end, leaving the crew that loved her directionless. Because I forgot that Luke Skywalker lost his hand and then found out his revered elders were mostly failures. Because I forgot that life isn't a story, and legends aren't built in one shot into a lucky spot. Because this war is complicated and messy, and I wanted to be part of something simple and clean." Nog fought the breaking of his voice successfully, but it could still be heard as he kept on. "Because I forgot the universal tenets of deal-making that transcend even the ROA. That if what is proposed sounds too good to be true, it likely is just that. Because I turned my back on those things and people that I hold dear for the false chance to be a part of something I couldn't before. You can ask Jake and my father. Its what I tend to do." Rom winced, as though hearing something spoken of that should not have been. Jake's impassive gaze softened for the first time, but he still did not look directly at Nog as he painfully kept on. "You want to know why I failed to relieve Cadet Watters of acting command, sir? Its because I wanted and needed him to be for real, and acting against him was something that, on several levels, just wasn't in me at that time. That is why I failed, and that is why I will soon lose this uniform I have come to treasure more than a station filled to bursting with Latinum." Quark's eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets, at that. Nog's own eyes seemed near to tearing. Professor Kirk chose not to wait for certain formalities. "One of the fears people have when an outsider comes in to judge one of their own is that this revered figure has already made up their mind, making the proceedings irrelevant. Well, people, have no fear. For my mind was made up long before I got here." Most did not gasp or show an obvious reaction. Yet the words had to sting, for the implication they gave. Kirk continued. "Once upon a time, Dereliction Of Duty, while always being a serious charge, did not quite rise to the level of treason or cowardice. Then, we finally started doing a much better job making our cadets aware of what was and was not expected of them, and so that charge became rarer and thereby more unthinkable when it was finally brought, and the attendant consequences made more severe as a result. The hellfire that came down on Ron Tracey a century back was as much for not reasoning out a way to help his crew as his gross violations of the Prime Directive. Like Cadet Watters, he was so focused on his ticket to immortality, he never conducted the more advanced scans that could have saved his people." Kirk then did something he was known to be sparing about, at least in public. "My uncle once told me that a Captain must be able to see past himself. For what lies past himself is his crew, his ship, and his mission. Commander Uhura then gave him a light glare, at which point he corrected his statement to a gender-neutral one." The chuckles were light, but the humor welcomed when things were so tense. "Since Dereliction Of Duty is sometimes as situational a charge as it is a simple yes or no question, I feel that I must factor in to my considerations the time, place, setting and atmosphere of the incident in question. I therefore find the following : Any serious effort on Mister Nog's part to unseat Cadet Watters would have landed him in the brig, thus not enabling him to effect the rescue of Cadet Collins and Mister Sisko, as well as himself. Had he not been so able, we would not now know of the Valiant's fate, and this admittedly unorthodox tribunal would never have been called." Rom's hands clasped together, as though in prayer. The prayer was answered with a resounding Yes. "Therefore I find that Ensign Nog's behavior in this matter, while at times troubling and questionable, in no way rises to the several standards neccesary to bring charges of Dereliction Of Duty. But understand, Mister Nog. You did fail in this. You had a civilian as your charge, and you failed to act to remove him from a war zone with all haste. You were the commisioned officer, and you failed to take command away from a bunch of cadets. You were the engineer, yet you failed to make the crew aware of the precautions they should undertake, should their gambit fail. All this will be noted on your record. It will be up to you whether or not this note is one that holds you back or recommends you for odd and untoward missions in the eyes of your future commanding officers." Rom sat and cried as his brother and his wife each took a hand and squeezed it. Yet Kirk was not finished. "Because understand, you will encounter more odd, off-putting and bizarre situations involving a command gone wrong. Remember well the urban legend of the ship that encountered a savage xenomorphic life form, only to find their efforts to kill it thwarted by secret orders given to a decidedly pre-Soongian synthetic. Its orders were unlawful. Cadet Watters' orders were unlawful. Garth Of Izar's orders were unlawful. I'm certain someone could argue, though they would not go unchallenged in me by this, that the seven greatest people I've ever known gave unlawful orders. It happens. And when it does, it is not just your right to challenge them. It is your duty. It is not an intellectual affectation to cry out, No, This Thing Is Wrong And I Will Not Do It." Kirk seemed to calm down just a bit from his nearly evangelistic fervor. "I am not urging a show of mass disobedience. I likely never would, and certainly not ever in a time of war. Nor am I urging everyone to judge all the orders they're given. That's not how things are done in a hierarchical structure. So what am I urging? I'm urging every officer here to remember what the man once said about supposedly obscene imagery : It is impossible to render an exact definition, but you'll know it when you see it. You don't need to be on guard for unlawful orders. If you choose not to turn off the brain that you were given, they will stand out like dirt on a glass window made of blue crystal at sunrise. You will know them. What happens after you figure it out will be your choice. As it always is." The part that Nog still deaded now began. "Ensign, had this somehow happened in the Edenic peacetime we enjoyed only a decade ago, I might have taken that uniform from you, or at the very least seen you in a year in Auckland, if not Tantalus." That one widened a few eyes before he continued. "Had this happened after the first major Borg incursion, I would have had you reduced in rank to Crewman, albeit with possible restoration in rank purely left to Captain Sisko's discretion." Again, Sisko appreciated Kirk's talent for building up to his point. "Had this happened as we approached open war with the Dominion, I might well have canceled your forward muster, and directed that you serve the remainder of your time at the Academy." Kirk nodded grimly. "But now we are at war. Not an incursion, or a border dispute, or the annulment of a treaty. A war the likes of which we have never seen before, even to the Romulan and Klingon conflicts. You were right, Mister Nog. This is a dirty thing, this latest war to end all wars. It got to Watters, and it got to Farris, and it got to a man I still remember as Cadet 'Straight-Arrow' Leyton. It got to you, and its gotten to me. You can ask my wife, Admiral Saavik, and you can ask my friend, Operations Chief Admiral Nechayev." Sisko couldn't help but catch that. How could the Professor be that Janus-faced? "But *it got to me* is about as useful an excuse for an officer as *We're desperate* is for a planet with a need. Through tough diplomacy, people like Alynna Nechayev and Bob Jellico have made people as diverse as the Aldeans, the Ventaxians, the Kes-Prytt, The T'Lani-Kellerun Alliance, the Argrathi and others aware that bad relations with the Federation, while they may not lead to war, can make them victims of a very, very cold shoulder. So as it is for planets, so do officers need some tough love to see that even total war, dirty as it gets, is not an excuse for every wrong under the stars. In that light, Ensign Nog, hear now your punishment." Poor Rom appeared to be on the worst kind of roller-coaster. His joyful face again shifted at these words. "I find that Cadet Watters and Cadet Farris bear the brunt of the responsibility for the Valiant's loss, the remainder being dispersed among all other cadets on board. Cadet Collins has been cooperative nearly from the start, and is therefore spared any punishment. You, Ensign, were the ranking officer on board, the extenuating circumstances aside. So I hereby direct you, at a time of Captain Sisko's choosing, to return to Starfleet Academy, there to provide a series of lectures on the nature of odd and untoward command situations and lawful versus unlawful orders. These lectures will be bound to holovid and made a part of the Academy Archives, to provide future generations of cadets with a guide to what is and is not allowable. I may find that the well-spoken, outspoken parents of the cadet crew of the Valiant will want to know why their late children have been labeled as wrongdoers. And I will reply thusly : They are labeled as wrongdoers, because they did wrong, and as a result, are lost to us all. My Uncle had to deal with it, as regarded my cousin, David Marcus. Now so will you." While most doubted Kirk would be quite that harsh with a grieving parent, few doubted the neccesity of the basic sentiment. They had all taken an oath, and oaths sometimes require a price, unspecified until it is called in. "Lastly, I will direct that the James T. Kirk Excellence In Cadets Award be retooled back to reward individual achievement. Somehow, the same Federation that hates Eugenics and the Super-Men it created keeps asking its Starfleet to create super-cadets. No more. There will always be standout cadets, and stand-out cadet squads. But if I have my way, and I have been assured that I will, then no cadet will ever again be told that they are famous for being famous. The joke goes nowadays that a group of Starfleet psychologists arrived in San Francisco to do a symposium on the irredeemably insane. But the study groups came up empty, because all the Admirals were on Risa, and all the cadets were in Acapulco on Spring Break. Well, its time we pulled the teeth from that joke and make it an untrue relic of a time now past. And we will start where we always start, from where we all started, and are usually most loathe to reform : Starfleet Academy itself." Sisko saw Nog as the realization that he'd gotten off easy finally sank in. But in a way, he really hadn't. Kirk had all but demanded Nog use the experience to give Starfleet a better officer, and Ben was determined to see that Nog did just that. Kirk finished up. "The man known eternally as *Yeah, that's HIS nephew* now calls this hearing to a close. Ensign Nog?" The old man's piercing eyes met the still-nervous eyes of the recent cadet. "Yes, sir?" "Go to your father. He looks like he needs a hug. And never make me have to give that harsh speech to him. Am I understood?" "You--are known and--understood, sir!" "Dismissed, Mister Nog." Nog then ran like a rocket to his family. Leeta, who had worn a confident face throughout, now held her stepson and wept openly. Quark pshawed the whole thing, but could be spotted wiping his eyes as he turned away. In succession, nearly one and all walked over to congratulate Nog on his good fortune and lesson learned. But one was noticeably absent. Nog saw Jake standing back, as though regarding things with a careful eye. Nog reached out. "Jake?" Jake Sisko did not cross the short distance between them. Instead, he increased it, perhaps immeasurably. "I'm glad you're not going to prison, Ensign." Nog felt his legs start to vanish beneath him as Jake walked towards the door to exit the room,with not another word from him or even a backward glance. Ben stepped in front of him before he could. "Jake---go to him." Jake looked at his father, not showing anger but looking almost noncommittal. "Is that an order?" "No, but--you should go to him." That look emerged again. "Dad, this is for the best. For both of us. I see that now. I have a story to write. I'll see you back in your quarters." The ice in his son's voice nearly had Ben checking the room for signs it had been opened to vacuum. Maybe this wasn't all over just yet, he reasoned. The people Nog left with looked in a celebratory mood. Ensign Nog himself did not. Unable to change all that for now, Sisko waited for the room to empty and then turned to--and turned on--Admiral Peter Kirk. "Sir, about Admiral Nechayev-----" "The old man's something of a hypocrite, isn't he, Ben?" More than a bit thrown, Sisko sat down. "Pete--what the hell's going on here?" Kirk produced a single-document storage device, meant for matters of the highest classification. After extensive and at times redundant checks on multiple levels, it unencrypted and Kirk handed it to Sisko. Ben was startled, to say the least. "And she approved this?" Kirk chuckled. "Alynna and I at times have some deeply felt, very profound disagreements. When I want to piss her off, I talk flaws on the DMZ Treaty and to pay me back, she talks retirement and age. But that little tantrum I threw earlier? That was purely for the consumption of those people who, shall we say, are less full-blooded than they might appear otherwise. We both agree that this is desirable as well as neccesary. It will all go forward at your signal. What do you say, Ben? Do we surprise them, maybe just this once?" Sisko considered what was presented to him. He didn't take long to do so. In what was soon to be their former shared quarters, Nog had left his own party to make a desperate plea. "You don't need to do this." Jake already had taken away most of his things. "I think that I do. Nog, we always end up at this point. We always will. Since the day we met, you've been telling me and telling me. Well, I finally listened. This hu-mon is going away." "Jake, I know what I behaved like on the Valiant. And I'm sorry. But to end our friendship based on one bad incident? You've had your moments, you know." "I know. Nog, its like I wrote. I was no help on board the Valiant. I am grateful you came back for me, all other things aside. But I'm not doing this out of bitterness, and I'm not ending our friendship. I'm preserving it." "You could've fooled me." Jake finished his last box. "If I leave now, and put some distance between us, we'll at least have some good times to look back on. But we've grown too far apart. This isn't relaxing versus laxity, or discipline versus commitment. Nog, you called me a liar. A lot. To a lot of people. Someday, I'll slip up and return the favor somehow. Eventually, we'll come to a parting so harsh, there will be nothing left of our friendship. Even the memories will be tarnished. This way, we keep what's best of it while acknowledging reality." "I take it back. You're not a liar. You're a coward!" Jake grabbed up his box. "Yeah. I guess I am." *Ensign Nog and Jake Sisko report to Defiant immediately.* Jake rolled his eyes. "An intervention." Nog grabbed his own head. "Thanks, sirs. Now our friendship will be done for. Do we go?" Jake shrugged. "Its not like they'll stop if we don't." The two angry young men were sure they were ready for anything and everything as they crossed the airlock into Defiant. What they got was what they did not expect. Admiral Kirk wore an ancient Admiral's maroon tunic, and all the officers were at battle stations, not admonishing them to remain friends or acting out helpful psych-games. Collins was there as well. "Dad?" "Jake, you have a story to finish telling. Nog--get to secondary weapons, ASAP!" Sisko looked at Kirk, then smiled. "We are going out. We are going to find that Dominion battleship. And we are going to complete the Valiant's last mission, and bring her low. Who's with me?" One word filled the ship, no matter civilian, cadet, or semi-retired academic semi-legend. "SIR!!!" END PART 4 -------------------------------------------- "Your would-be attackers don't like you. Your would-be rescuers don't like you. Harry, *most* people don't like you." - Peter Kirk to Harry Mudd, 'Lawful Warrant' NewMessage: Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!feed1.news.rcn.net!rcn!wns13feed!worldnet.att.net!205.188.226.97!ngpeer.news.aol.com!audrey-m2.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Lines: 691 X-Admin: news@aol.com From: gojirob@aol.comendspam (Rob Morris) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Date: 16 Sep 2004 06:30:33 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Subject: New DS9; Telling; Post-Valiant, PG13, (Jake against Nog), 5a/6 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=utf-8 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Message-ID: <20040916023033.08200.00000657@mb-m06.aol.com> Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160780 X-Received-Date: Wed, 15 Sep 2004 23:30:41 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title : Telling Author : Rob Morris Contact : gojirob@aol.comendspam Archive : www.southroad.com/brightfame Series : DS9 Type : Follow-up to the events of the S6 DS9 episode, ‘The Valiant' Characters : Jake, Nog, DS9 Late S6 Cast, Retired Admiral P. Kirk, aged 115 Part : 5a/6 Rating : PG13, for rough tides in a friendship and in Starfleet Summary : The fault line between Jake Sisko and Ensign Nog has always been -- Telling by Rob Morris Part Five Inside the O'Briens' quarters, a loving father once again found his heart ready to give out. "That stupid old man! First he makes us wait in the Realm Of The Red Ledger before he gets around to exonerating my son, then he and Captain Sisko drag him off again, and for what? So they can go on the same damned fool mission that got him in trouble and also nearly got him killed!" Busy til then with a bowl of honey butter popcorn, Garak looked up at these words. "Admiral Kirk obviously suffers from classic Impostor's Syndrome. But he's no fool. In their occasional dealings, my father always regarded him as a worthy adversary." Miles looked out the window before responding. While he had promised the absent Keiko to avoid missions of opportunity, as opposed to vital or emergency missions, he wished he could be on the Defiant, then and there. "Tain had dealings with Admiral Kirk? Why?" Garak half-smiled. "It was, shall we say, a meeting of equals?" Kira was the natural choice to oversee DS9 and Bajor while its Emissary sailed off into battle. But her wishes were not far from Miles O'Brien's. "Garak, that doesn't make any sense. Your father was head of The Obsidian Order---the secret intelligence service, as opposed to the more public one used to keep order. The Federation doesn't have an equivalent to that." Garak had the replicator refill his bowl. He found he really liked that flavor of popcorn. "Doctor Bashir might well say otherwise, Major." Quark rolled his eyes. He prayed that Leeta's prayers for Nog would end soon, so she could come back and baby-sit her emotional wreck of a husband. "Not another Section 31 story! I swear, ever since the Doctor was abducted, every day I get at least one fool who tries to get their S31 discount at the bar. I tell them---you want free drinks, talk to your bosses and make me disappear. Then they disappear." Miles deliberately broke his gaze from the space outside. "So Admiral Kirk runs Section 31, if there is one?" Garak was downing some water, the result of too many dry kernels getting past him. "He--ack--he...hold on.....there. Supposedly, he once ran it. The story goes that he took the post after the loss of the Enterprise-C, to oversee avenging his goddaughter. He left it when he found that his agency may have had complicity in a certain starship's disastrous launch sometime about eighty years ago. Of course, these stories bounce around endlessly, and they tend to grow heads as they do." Quark seemed less than impressed. "So now he's out avenging those idiotic kids? Is that all the man does, avenge things? He's not a Klingon, for pity's sake. Besides, I thought Admirals weren't expendable." Worf had bet Jadzia that she could not sit through an entire meal with Martok's wife Sirella without speaking out of turn, his revenge for all the arm-wrestling victories her superior leverage had brought her. The stream of invective Dax had given into meant that she had to remain at the station while Worf oversaw primary weapons on Defiant's current mission. "Normally, you'd be right, Quark. But an aspect of this mission requires a senior Admiral's presence. I can't go into more than that. Also, I hate this! My husband, my protege, and a young man I held as a baby are all out on a mission that could mean I never even learn their exact fates." Quark shrugged. "So? Life is dangerous all over. You could probably die while praying in a shrine." A very quick, very harsh glare from Kira made Quark follow up on that. "Uhhh..but only if that should happen to be the will of the Prophets, of course." Miles knew better than to allow his mind to keep wandering back to the Defiant, and so he chose to press Garak on one of his off-hand references. "Did you or did you not just say that Section 31 was responsible for Captain Kirk's loss aboard the Enterprise-B?" "Actually, Chief, I never said any such thing. I said that Admiral Kirk--if he truly were in charge of 31 at one time--resigned because there was talk of his agency's culpability in that matter. I looked at the available evidence. Its something I often do on a lark. Since I've been excluded for so long from all things Cardassian, studying other secretive intelligence operations helps pass the time." "Uh-huh. So what did you find when you passed the time on that subject?" Garak pushed away the popcorn. It was perhaps not entirely agreeing with his digestive tract. "Mostly I came to the conclusion that all the talk was just that. That tragic and awkward launch had been what it appeared : an accident caused by unpreparedness. Yet, and this is the interesting part, the rumors of Section 31's complicity were likely started by the agency itself, and they were started quite deliberately." Dax shook her head at hearing this. "Why would they implicate themselves in something they were innocent of?" Garak raised and shook his index finger in the air. "Indeed. What would it gain them, claiming to be responsible for the tragic and pointless ultimate denoument to a great man's career? The answer is reputation. They would then be able to have people whisper 'Don't mess with Section 31--they're the ones who got rid of Kirk.' Very effective. An incredibly complex, invaluable deception that requires almost no effort to put forward." O'Brien snorted at the paranoid idea. "A little too complex, you ask me. Where would you--or they--get that kind of idea from?" Garak nodded. "From your own history, Chief. If they did this, then they were merely following the example set by the Central Intelligence Agency in the ancient United States Of America, who allowed rumors to swirl for decades that they had killed one of that nation's presidents--an Irishman, like yourself, I believe." "Kennedy?" "I believe that was his name. Oh, they were a bunch. Blind as a bat on outside threats, but terrific at managing internal ones. That whole Militia movement in their western states? Brilliant method of corraling and keeping tabs on all the most extreme malcontents--except for that one fellow in Oklahoma, I think it was. He fell outside the sensors, so to speak. Hmmm. Could Section 31 have done something similar, more recently--founding a rebel movement to which all the malcontents could be drawn to, then done away with?" O'Brien sat down, his head hurting from the layered lunacy Garak was proposing. Rom set things back on track. "The only conspiracy I'm concerned about is the one against my son. I know what's going on. They want to blame him for the Valiant, anyway. That's why he's with them, so they have a scapegoat again, and..." While not exactly Starfleet's biggest booster, Kira cut Rom off. "Rom, that's enough. Your brother's opinion aside, you're not stupid. You know full well your son took an oath--a verbal contract--and that he was in trouble because of actions he took, and actions he didn't take. That's not conspiracy. That is living up to your word, once given. Nog understands that, and so should you." "I do! But I still don't want him to go to jail. That's what a parent does, right?" Dax bit down before responding to this. "Benjamin showed me some pre-Academy school records from the members of Red Squad. While mainly a very self-disciplined bunch, there was a pronounced tendency on their parents' parts to keep them from ever being punished by school or other civil authorities. And I mean ever, for any reason or action." Quark stood and half-smiled. "That's where it always begins, and that's where it always ends. I should have let Captain Sisko arrest Nog, back when Starfleet first got here. That's what really started this whole mess." Rom walked out without a word or a look at his brother, who after a moment sighed and followed him. The small gathering dispersed as the attendants had to relieve their reliefs, so to speak. But those aboard Defiant did not once leave their thoughts. --- On board the Defiant, Nog's innards were doing acrobatics. The gung-ho fervor had faded faster than it had before, as he reminded himself that once again, a single Defiant-class ship was aiming to take out a battleship many times its size and power, with the same overarching confidence. While the crew involved was infinitely more skilled, size and power were still size and power. Even had Admiral Kirk been his uncle, and even if James Kirk were twenty times greater than his most extreme legends, that would do nothing to alter firepower and armor ratios. But just as he was about to descend into a blind panic, the very unreality of the situation spoke to him, and suggested a solution as familiar as his time at the Academy. He got up and walked over to Captain Sisko, who looked surprised to see this, to say the least. "Ensign, why aren't you at your post?" "Its alright, sir. I've figured it out." Now Sisko really looked confused. "What have you figured out, Mister Nog?" Ahead of them, Admiral Kirk was inputting a long series of codes from a PADD with an actual physical magno-lock. But Nog had his notion firmly set in his head, and all the realistic touches in creation weren't going to knock it out. "Well, sir. Here we are, doing much the same thing that the Valiant did, before it was destroyed." "True, Ensign--to an extent. What's your point?" "Sir! I made a mistake, but I'm not that big a fool. After all that happened, and all I was told about how Cadet Watters did the wrong thing, I know where we really are." "And that is?" Nog chuckled. "We're in one of my uncle's holosuites. Chief O'Brien probably rigged this up so it would seem even more realistic. He did a great job, too. This really feels like when the Defiant is under way. But I truly have learned my lesson about the Valiant. Sir--please discontinue this. Its not neccesary anymore." Sisko smiled, and nodded. "Ensign Nog---get back to your post." "I understand, Captain. We're going to see the simulation through, then?" Sisko motioned to his son. "Jake--come here." "Yeah, Dad?" "Jake? Did you and Nog beam aboard the Defiant?" "No. We walked in, through the docking bay." Sisko nodded. "Were either of you unconscious just before you joined us?" "No. I haven't slept since the beginning of today's tribunal. I'm too wound up." "Taken any pharmaceuticals?" "Some Mochatageno blend coffee, but nothing harder." "Ensign?" "Errr--the same applies to me, Captain." Ben shook his head. "No beaming, no sleeping, and no drugs. Mister Nog, what does that tell you about our situation?" Nog felt a bit light-headed as he responded. "That this is no simulation. Its for real. We're really hunting the Dominion battleship." Worf called out. "No longer. We have found it. The described spot bears surface scarring from the Valiant's attempted strike, and sensors detect micro-sized fragments of ablative armor in its hull, such as is used in a Defiant-class ship." As a shaky Nog sat back at his post, Captain Sisko recieved a thumbs-up from Admiral Kirk, who had finally completed entering the codes from his list. Benjamin saw the behemoth enemy dreadnaught onscreen, large and growing larger. Bashir reviewed emergency medical procedures with Collins while Sisko said words that echoed ominously in Nog's worried mind. "Thar she blows!" Nog felt that the seeming flippancy was meant to ground him, but it was still unnerving. Why was a lesson learned being refuted in the next breath? His rattling at the tribunal behind him, he now felt he had a few good answers as to why Watters, however flawed he had been, was not an unlawful CO issuing unlawful orders, at least in the main. But that paled beside the basic lesson that had been driven home. Once the mission changed from getting home, or at the very least, once it changed from scanning to attacking, a defacto unlawful atmosphere had taken over, and Nog should have stepped up then and there. "Maybe they're all on hard stims. Because here we are again." Nog kept this well under his breath, but at the front of his mind. He wanted to have faith in those who had inspired and trained him, but they were making that exceedingly difficult. And not merely for himself. Jake spoke in low tones to his father. "What kind of security restrictions am I under?" "For the mission itself, the standard five days. For one aspect of our battle plans, til cessation of hostilities. For another--cessation plus five years." "Five years?" "Jake, I told you that access agreements have hidden pitfalls. You signed yours knowing that things like this could come up. The only plus is that you are less subject to arbitrary rulings on these matters. But is that really what's on your mind?" The younger Sisko looked down, then back at the elder. "I would never place you in the same category as Watters." "I hope not. Though I do take my raktageno black. No mocha blends." "Dad--I'm seeing a replay here that I'd really rather not go through. I see it enough in my nightmares." "We are a cloaked ship." "Whose engines are very, very powerful and sometimes work at cross purposes to that cloak." Ben smiled. "You really are a good reporter, you know that? But maybe those cross purposes work directly towards ours." Admiral Kirk spoke up. "Mister Sisko, this plan was worked out by myself and Admiral Nechayev, with the aid of of some of our best--and some of our very strangest--planners." Kirk turned his gaze towards Bashir when he said this. The doctor took a moment, then made a guess. "You've met my friends. I'm surprised they'd be allowed within breathing room of our admiralty." Kirk shrugged. "Those 'advancement' clinics are an ongoing problem, Doctor. Its a resource we've tapped before. Remind me to tell you about it all before I leave DS9." Bashir nodded, and said something odd. "Yes, Admiral. And don't forget your spirit-walking staff. You left it behind on the station, sir." Kirk looked a bit surprised, as though he'd forgotten his tunic rather than a mere walking stick. "It is irreplacable, after all. If we're lost, my wife would wish to have it, as would our children." Worf announced what all knew was coming. "Approaching point of no return. Doctor, your test?" Joseph Sisko's wisdom had been taken to heart. Rather than the blood tests which could and in some cases had been faked, Bashir now activated a device that emitted a burst of alpha waves that meant nothing to a solid, but would shake a changeling's mass into believing that, whatever their personal time limit for remaining in another form, it had been reached. It too was far from perfect, and testing outside Odo problematic, but so far, where it had been used, no sabotage had occurred. Bashir was required to be tested by his staff before leaving, his own blood tagged with a harmless substance he was not to be made aware of, the lack of which when scanned would cause him to be locked out of all ship's systems. In turn, he was to come up with a random test beyond the alpha-emitters. In this case, he watched for the regularity of blood flow in each occupant. At least one individual was scanned twice. "Captain. Admiral. Let it be known that I certify, within the limits of my skills and equipment, that the USS Defiant enters this combat zone free of any shapeshifters." Also, Nog thought fitfully, bereft of its common sense. ---- Back on DS9, Odo gave Kira and O'Brien welcome news that echoed Bashir's aboard the Defiant. "None of those who are supposed to be in the expeditionary force aboard the Defiant are still on DS9. Neither I nor my staff have found any of their mortal remains or traces of their evaporated DNA. Three unauthorized transports occurred, none involving anything more than efforts by a certain tavern proprietor's alleged associates to hide their clumsy efforts at smuggling. The secondary scrambler that frustrates the so-called 'hyper-transporter' utilized both by the Dominion and their former associate, Gul Dukat, is, so the Chief informs me, in perfect working order. The station's defenses against dimensional incursion by the so-called Mirror World are also operational. Your Intendant counterpart, Major, will find herself beamed directly into an already-activated brig with a redundnant steel door in front of the force field. In short, everyone who left was precisely who they seemed to be, and we scanned them thoroughly enough to ensure their identities when they come back." Kira dismissed both the Constable and the Chief, since all had their own duties. But Odo stopped O'Brien before they parted. "Chief, could I ask you a favor?" "Sure. What do you need?" The constable shook his head. "It will sound utterly ridiculous. But Admiral Kirk asked me an interesting question, simply out of curiousity, and I realized I had no idea how to answer it." "That question being?" "Chief, how do you know that I'm Odo?" O'Brien looked confused. "Well--who else would you be?" In a moment, Miles caught himself. "Uhh---well, in order to impersonate you, another shapeshifter would have to kill you. And they would never do that." "Bad answer, Chief. One, we don't know to what extent my killing another shapeshifter changed things. Oh, they may have punished me. But who can say that was all they'll ever do? Two, they wouldn't have to kill me. All they would have to do is keep me occupied, and they've done that before." Odo sighed. "If you and Doctor Bashir can leave Early 19th Century Texas alone for about a week, I'd appreciate anything you can come up with. For someone in my position, not being able to truly verify my own identity to others is greatly unsettling." Miles nodded. "You got it, Constable. By the way, I may have evidence of illegal activities that will put Quark in a penal colony for a year." Odo almost began to shake. "Well, what is it? Does he know you have it?" O'Brien smiled. "There's one test at least. Even if they linked with you, no other changeling will ever be able to truly mimic your feelings about Quark." Odo walked off, not certain if he was more annoyed by the humor or its possible accuracy. ---- Nog saw that something was throwing off his attempts to properly calibrate secondary weapons systems. When he saw what this something was, his vague doubts about this mission now made as solid as duranium. He turned to Sisko. "Captain! We've been sabotaged." "Define sabotaged, Mister Nog." Please, the young Ferengi thought, let this be a dream, or at least a vicious prank. "The engines' output is at 140% of the levels recommended for use while we are under cloak. The Dominion have to know we're here. Sir, I suggest we turn back." "And are you willing to back up that suggestion, Ensign?" Nog had to say it, lesson sim or doomed ship. He had to say it. "I am, Captain. Even to the extent that I will have to ask you to give up your seat to Admiral Kirk or Commander Worf, should your refuse to turn back. I'm not sure of anything, anymore, including where I stand legally, just for making that request. But I know now, as I did not before, that even the best-staffed Defiant-class cannot take down that behemoth alone." Sisko stared at Nog for a moment. "You are correct, Ensign. But I will ask you to resume your post, and trust that we already knew that, going in. I'm asking you to trust me, Nog. Do you?" Nog resumed his duties with only a few more words. "Secondary weapons systems stand ready, Captain." "Excellent, Ensign. Commander Worf? Is the scan complete?" "It is, Captain. And I am finding a most surprising detail about the Valiant's so-called 'weak spot' on the enemy vessel." "Let me guess. Its bait, meant to draw enemy fire?" "A good guess, Captain--but no. This entire scan is bogus. It cannot be trusted." More than one head turned at that news. "How is that, Mister Worf? How could they so thoroughly deflect a scan as to make it useless in battle?" Worf punched up a display that he fed into a portion of the main viewscreen. "In effect, they did not. The scan is a thorough, uncorrupted one. It is simply not a reading of the vessel we see before us." Sisko began to nod. Admiral Kirk then followed suit, and responded. "A trick worthy of what's-his-name." Nog saw it quickly, as well. The readings taken were of a ship of similar size and make, but with systems placed very differently than on the genuine article. A false set of schematics was being constantly transmitted, meant to be misread by anyone who got too close. The crew of the Valiant, so anxious for a kill they could taste it, had never stood a chance of finding the battleship's theoretical weak spot. In effect, they had been trying to navigate the Badlands with a map of Earth's solar system. "How could we not see?" He allowed his eyes to close for half-a-second, once again knowing full well how they made themselves blind. "Mister Nog, fire a spread of photon torpedoes. Target the weak spot indicated in the false scan." "The false scan, Captain? And why not quantum torpedoes?" "Ensign, your concerns are laudable and noted. But don't question me again. Fire the spread." As Nog knew it might, the battleship shot down nearly every torpedo. The few that got through were no match for the leviathan's shields and armor. "Sir, they have surely confirmed our presence with that." "Ensign Nog is correct, Captain. We are being fired on." As soon as Worf had said it, the ship rocked with enemy discharges. "Commander Worf, drop cloak, and raise shields to maximum." Again, Nog saw things with a clarity he cursed himself for not having or using aboard the Valiant. While Defiant was now in a better defensive and strategic position, this meant nothing against the giant enemy. Its remaining life might soon be measured in minutes, painful hours at best, as the terrific power of the battleship's turbolasers was brought to bear. The professional crew would only buy them time, not victory. Then, the situation entered the realm of the Red Ledger. "That's impossible." "Don't tell me its impossible, Ensign. Just tell me what it is." "Captain--two more vessels of the same class of battleship are decloaking!" Sisko seemed unphased as Worf confirmed this. "I'm going to interpret this as meaning they've passed the prototype stage of development." ---- On DS9, Quark was determined to break down an old brick wall. "Go away, brother! I don't want to discuss it." Quark turned to Rom's wife. "Leeta, now would be a good time to use those brains I said you didn't have and let me deal with him." The Bajoran sighed. "Do you plan to call him an idiot?" "No. Merely a stubborn fool." "Oh. That's alright then. The first insult makes you vicious. That one just makes you a blind hypocrite. Forget it. Go tend your bar." "Woman, you chose to marry into this psychological swamp we call a family. If you refuse to act like anything resembling a traditional Ferengi wife, would you at least respect the fact that I've known Rom a lot longer than you?" Leeta wasn't budging. "In case you haven't noticed, Rom is angry with you." "And in case you haven't noticed, Rom is even angrier with Nog!" That one, she was not at all prepared for. "What are you talking about?" It was Quark's turn to be unprepared. He looked at Rom. "You haven't even told your own wife?" "I've told her enough. This predates us by better than a decade, Leeta. I agreed not to ask about every last detail of your old life, because I trust you. So trust me." Leeta folded her arms. "Rom, if you're angry with your son--and Quark I do say if, because I've seen nothing of it til right now--then that's not just a detail. Well, the Mass Cleric knows me pretty well by now, so I'm headed back to the shrine." Quark nodded. "Pray for me, while you're at it. Because the last time I even broached this subject, it was followed a week later by my brother working with Zek's son to put me out an airlock. The time before that, he decked me and knocked out three of my points." Leeta seized her husband by the shoulders. "Rom, your brother is an arrogant lying sexist hypocritical bigot. But he loves you. Listen to him, and don't hit him so hard he loses teeth or consciousness. Promise?" "Anything for you, my love." Leeta left, with an eye of doubt on them both. Quark waved. "Say hello to the Captain's aunts and uncles. Mention my name. They know me." Rom roared when the door was finished closing. "Just what part of I don't want to talk about it are you failing to understand, Quark?" Quark sat down, indicating he was not going anywhere. "The part that tells me why you, who of late has proven NOT to be the idiot I say you are, have somehow made yourself not see a connection so obvious, they wouldn't even pass muster in one of Bashir's spy holos!" Rom calmed down, though he still seemed shaken. "I can see it just fine. But Jake won't forgive it like I did." Quark bid his brother sit down. "Who says you've ever forgiven it?" "Quark, he was a child at the time. He didn't understand what he was doing." "That doesn't mean you weren't or aren't still angry with him." The propietor put his hand on Rom's shoulder. "That doesn't mean you didn't feel betrayed by your own son." NewMessage: Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!feed1.news.rcn.net!rcn!wns13feed!worldnet.att.net!205.188.226.97!ngpeer.news.aol.com!audrey-m2.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Lines: 265 X-Admin: news@aol.com From: gojirob@aol.comendspam (Rob Morris) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Date: 18 Sep 2004 14:50:37 GMT References: <20040916023033.08200.00000657@mb-m06.aol.com> Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Subject: New DS9; Telling; Post-Valiant, PG13, (Jake against Nog), 5b/6 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=utf-8 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Message-ID: <20040918105037.01624.00000914@mb-m28.aol.com> Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160819 X-Received-Date: Sat, 18 Sep 2004 07:51:18 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title : Telling Author : Rob Morris Contact : gojirob@aol.comendspam Archive : www.southroad.com/brightfame Series : DS9 Type : Follow-up to the events of the S6 DS9 episode, ‘The Valiant' Characters : Jake, Nog, DS9 Late S6 Cast, Retired Admiral P. Kirk, aged 115 Part : 5b/6 Rating : PG13, for rough tides in a friendship and in Starfleet Summary : The fault line between Jake Sisko and Ensign Nog has always been -- Telling by Rob Morris Part Five continued --- "Shields are holding." That was what Worf said, and Nog had no reason to doubt it. The raised power output that had given their cloaked position away also meant that they already had the ready systems fully charged and then some. But whether or not shields were holding in that instant, they wouldn't last too long beyond that. The enemy's overlarge crafts were built with the exact reverse of the logic used to create the Defiant-Class. They were the embodiment of the Korrd-Powell Rule of warfare : Bring a lot more firepower to the table than you will ever need, and you will never want for it, no matter the target. The ships' gravimetric pull alone made the Defiant's job all that much harder. "Captain, permission to fire another spread?" Sisko for some reason looked over to Admiral Kirk, who nodded. "We're in position, Ben." Nog for some reason then recalled that, in Sisko's case, it was usually the Admiral deferring to the Captain, instead of the other way round. "Ensign Nog, fire that spread, but slow its speed to thirty percent of normal. Wide dispersal." "Sir, at that slow a speed, they'll pick off our torpedoes like gnats!" "Ensign, now please!" Nog obeyed, and on-screen saw his prediction confirmed. He thought surely his other prediction would be quick in following. "We're dead." But as the spread was casually taken to pieces by Dominion forces that may as well have been laughing at them, whether they actually were or not, Nog and everyone else aboard were reminded of why death might think twice about trying to take them, that particular day. They had a Kirk on board. "Admiral Kirk to Expedition : The word is given--Code---" The older man smiled. "Remember The Odyssey!" Worf scanned. "Sir, our signal is being jammed. That is to say, our long-range signals." Sisko rubbed his hands together. "Then lets go short range. Helm--pull us back and out of here. Mister Nog--full photon torpedo spread as we retreat." "Captain--they're not letting us retreat. We're boxed in." "We're not the ones boxed in, Nog. Not by a longshot. Admiral?" "Kirk to Expedition. Remember Betazed!" Sisko saw them withdraw from directly in front of the mammoth ships, but it was a moot point. They would be back on the Defiant in a single minute. Ben didn't feel like giving them that minute. "Admiral--sir?" "Gotcha. Kirk to Expedition. Remember The Valiant!" Who, Nog wondered, was the Admiral talking to? Was there a USS Expedition? He tried to recall that before his question was dramatically answered by Worf. "Federation ships decloaking, Captain. The Reliant, The Monitor, The Merrimac, The Nimitz, The T'Non...." On he went, and so was the plan revealed at last. Nog grinned, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Seventeen Defiant class ships. I wasn't even aware we had that many in this sector." Jake's face showed concern. "We don't. That's probably the first thing my access agreement restricts me on. But we also don't have any other cloaked ships." Nog caught this, and was almost annoyed with Jake, but shortly realized what this simple tactic might cost the Federation in the long-term. "Captain, I'm afraid he's right. Neither his agreement nor my oath covers illegal activity, and those ships clearly violate the Treaty Of Algeron." "Keep to your post, Ensign. Admiral? Sir, would you please give my son the unsealed PADD?" Bashir watched as Kirk crossed the room to do so, and more, he watched the easy manner in which the much older man did this. Cadet Collins, there to provide first aid in supplement to the Doctor, saw a sneer develop on his face. "Sir, are you all right?" "I'm fine, Cadet. I was just concerned about the Admiral. He is, after all, one-hundred and fifteen years old." "Understood, sir. But he seems to be spry for his age." Bashir's throat trembled a bit, and he looked even angrier before regaining himself. "Yes. Isn't modern science wonderful in that regard?" Modern science, thought Julian. And perhaps also some other science that was a few centuries old, and very much frowned upon. Well, there were some laws that not even a Kirk was above. The Defiant-class ships did not have the raw power of their opponents, but they were many times more maneuverable. In theory, the smaller ships should have all been detected and destroyed from a distance. But the behemoths had been drawn in by the lone and seemingly vulnerable Defiant, and their demise was now as inevitable as the two ships Kirk had named in his coded message. Jake read from the PADD. "Alliance vessels on patrols scanned these three headed towards Betazed, all of them cloaked. The cloaks must have been stolen, or substandard. So the one ship radically increased its power output and decloaked, hiding the others from direct scanning by masking them. A task force was assembled to take them out, since, when combined with Dominion assets already stationed near Betazed, it would have made the eventual effort to retake that world something like a suicide mission." Nog, not wishing to be admonished again, kept firing when neccesary, but asked a question. "What about the sectors surrounding Betazed?" Jake checked. "General Martok's forces moved in when some of the known Defiant-class ships pulled out. He apparently relishes the Vulcans and Andorians oweing him." Well, at least his ships are legally cloaked, though Nog. "What about the Treaty Of Algeron?" Jake shook his head. "This mission has tacit Romulan approval. Its a negotiated extension of the same deal that gave Defiant its cloak. It allowed for the use of cloaked ships to take out targets of high priority and sudden opportunity." "Then why don't we see a lot more of them?" Jake actually whistled. "This cloak-allowance has a Bajoran ton of restrictions. To be used legally within the agreement, one of the ships involved must be Defiant itself. A Senior Admiral must be present on board, and report the occurrence immediately after to an appropriate Romulan official. All the extra cloaks involved and the records of their use in battle must be promptly surrendered to said official, by the Senior Admiral, and he or she must..." Jake sat down, and looked at Kirk. "Admiral, this says you have to surrender yourself as well. That you'll be in Romulan custody until they are satisfied conditions of the agreement have been met." Captain Sisko now looked at the older man. "Sir, I know we want to keep ourselves honest, but why was that agreed to? One, its going a bit far, and two, some of your Uncle's enemies could very well be alive on Romulus." Kirk closed his eyes, then looked plainly at Sisko. "We don't want to become a cloak-based power, Ben. We don't skulk, where we can help it. As to the rest--let's just say the Romulans felt burned by some events just prior to their entry into this war. The prospect of having Jim's blood-kin in their hands sweetened the deal enough to close it." "Burned, sir?" "They expressed concerns about what they called the Federation's moral decay." While murmurs about Romulan nerve abounded, Ben was not among those saying this. He had a sick feeling about why the Romulans were upset--and who they might be upset with. Though parts of it didn't make sense, other parts fit all too well. "Captain, one battleship has exploded, one is about to do so--and the third has a major hull breach-- in a certain spot, sir." Nog saw it as well. "Cadet Collins--please come here." Nog adjusted the yield and targeting on the photon torpedos while the phasers and quantum torpedoes of the seventeen ships continued to tear holes in the shields of the remaining ship. "Nog?" "Dorian, please fire that last missle when Commander Worf makes the call." Collins sat down, and no one objected to this, at least then and there. "Its shields are down." At Worf's words, Collins fired a single photon torpedo into the Judas-Fish false weak spot that now had a real hole in it. The battleship shuddered and soon after, it was no more. But Dorian just looked lost as she gave Nog back his post. "They're still dead. That hasn't changed." The mission fueled by strategy, neccesity and vengeance was over. But Jake still wasn't talking with Nog unless he had to. Admiral Kirk faced possible imprisonment at the hands of an unpredictable ally. Bashir felt he might have to end the older man's career in any event, were he proven correct in his suspicions. Captain Sisko wrestled with the thought that a secret devil's deal he had made might now claim the Admiral's freedom. Like most things in the Dominion War, it was a very complicated victory. END PART FIVE -------------------------------------------- "Your would-be attackers don't like you. Your would-be rescuers don't like you. Harry, *most* people don't like you." - Peter Kirk to Harry Mudd, 'Lawful Warrant' NewMessage: