THE TREATY-CREATED DEAD ZONE, 2275You don't mess with The Order. Not the natural order, nor the group of bigots who sat around agreeing with each other, back on Earth. Mess with the natural order, you could lose your life. Mess with The Order Of The Ancient Destroyer, and you could lose your career--and your life.
Being so Terracentric, Admiralty Hall had stopped being a real place for many it had exiled to the edges of the final frontier. James Kirk, the sworn and named enemy of The Hall, was also less than real. They couldn't touch him, unless you counted two dead parents, a brother, and a nephew. No one had ever found a trace of that kid. But for all that, Kirk was a hero, CO of the Flagship. His career was safe, barring cosmic catastrophe.
In theory, the allied string of Starbase Commanders, mostly Commodores, should have been real to those out at the fringes of claimed and explored space. They called themselves The Commodity, and kept the ideals of Starfleet alive. Problem was, they obeyed rules and regs that those in service to The Hall didn't even recognize. So while the noble Commodity's domains remained static, The Hall's influence expanded, as they slowly but surely replaced vets with their milk-fed hate-mongers. Space would eventually be explored by those who utterly feared its every mystery.
So, to ships like The USS DaiGo Fukyryu Maru, or simply, The Maru to its crew of 100, the only things that were real were themselves, their ship, and their wily Captain, Ranjar Bogadasarian. The Captain had once been a member of The Order, but quit, proclaiming it was too much work remembering who to hate and why. He never mentioned to anyone what he had witnessed, as a Commander. A boy, obviously dead by that point, had been the subject of a so-called 'Bacchanalia'---a brutal gang rape. Those Admirals, so staid and self-righteous in public, never stopped coming at him. Perhaps if Cartwright hadn't pulped the kid's face by the time Ranjar saw all this, he could have helped the boy's family, whoever they were, find peace, if not justice. Intervening on his behalf would have been multi-tiered suicide.
So he kept his rank, but got a decidedly lousy assignment. His public and private reasons for this downturn coincided nicely.
But while he was real, rumors were sometimes even realer.
"The Hall's sending a spy."
Said The CMO.
"Since Cartwright took over, he's been sending in agent provocateurs, to get good crews' court-martialed."
Said the Engineer.
"We'll have our own Political Officer. Keep your thoughts, pure, Boys!"
Said the Science Officer.
"They're going to bump us all down to an even lower assignment, assuming one exists."
Said The First Officer.
The Captain, a man whose ancestors in Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Semitia, and India had all fought English occupation at some point, took this invasion far more in stride than his crew.
"We are not being reassigned, or broken up. There will be no spy, nor political officer. Our expected arrival has no experience in either overt or covert ops. That's the good news."
The XO nodded.
"Then what's the bad news, sir?"
Again, the man seemed far too relaxed.
"I'm being replaced by Admiral Watters' nephew. Its a standard tactic, when a new administration comes in. From now on, I'll be your XO. It’s a policy as old as Earth's Cold War in Asia. Replace the unknown with the known. Well, I have to prepare for our new Captain. Now keep to your duties, people. You know them well enough."
For a full minute, a stunned crew said nothing at all. For the Order's
hand now seemed to have infinite reach.Watters, their new young Captain, arrived on an almost ornate shuttle that seemed more like a yacht. Soon-to-be-demoted Captain Bagadasarian kept his noble bearing, wearing a mask of serenity about the whole thing that went deeper than some knew. He greeted his replacement, who notably would not take his proffered hand to shake. It was a sign, that everyone knew.
On his way up to The Bridge of The Miranda-Class Vessel, he passed Augur, a Tellarite who had failed his debate finals. In fact, he was an accomplished debater and could always win on points, even back home. But he invariably lost on gruffness. In short, he just wasn't obnoxious enough about his presentation. That was alright to him. It wasn't like he'd been banished or anything. Augur always preferred to argue with his Engines, whose back-and-forth and refusal to budge exceeded any sentient challenge.
"The man who refuses to give you his hand is usually holding a knife, and sometimes--its not a gift."
This was a professional crew, and any little differences had long since fallen away. So it was that the Tellarite Augur got on fine with the Andorian Science Officer, Tharls. Now, the man was of Andor's upper-crust, and that meant warrior, by definition. But declaring war on Augur seemed kind of pointless, out this far, and so they agreed to a state of total conflict, then agreed upon a cease-fire, so all the relatives back home were satisfied. On occasion, they would invent treaty violations to write about.
"Augur. How's that lacerated leg?"
"Well enough, Tharls. Was your arm successfully reattached?"
"Just as though it had never been off."
"Humph. Your overwrought opinion of our new Captain?"
"We-hell. Either he is giving a knife as a present, or we'd best watch ourselves. Say, what was the best knife you ever received?"
"Eh, my family was celebrating my first mating---everyone just HAD to be there. She was unremarkable. But the knife--- that was a Noloahdtef!"
"Myself, I never received anything so good as a Noloahdtef. The serv-hants did the buying, and had no taste. Still, I did get an Hanuwq, one WinterMorn."
"Then you got the better one, in my opinion. My Pa made it clear---ceremonial use only for the Noloahdtef. On Pain."
Tharls started.
"Then wa-hy even give it?!"
The CMO had caught part of this, but was busy bringing her Sickbay up to 150% of Starfleet specs. It was an old trick. If everything was thought to be 50% above the best rating, then at the very worst something missed might be at 3% below standard, more than enough to survive any inspection.
Valentinia Honor was Alpha Centauran human, and like Captain Bagadasarian, once a member of the hateful Order. She had seconded her medical studies with a secret course on non-human physiology, the better to kill and spread disease among those her family taught her to hate. But unlike The former Captain, she had not quit the Order. It had quit her.
One day, Valentinia, her brother Justinian, and their friend Caius went to attend the local cell, and found nothing at all. Speaking to others, they found that Alpha Centauri 3 was suddenly a place free of The Order's touch--an impossibility. Finally contacting a cell on Earth, they found out something astounding. Due to concerns about the DNA-purity of humans transplanted by The Preservers, the residents of AC3 had been reclassified on Terra as 'potential non-humans'.
When the residents of a nearby Vulcan Science Center picked up Mertrich's Syndrome, a still-stunned Valentinia decided to screw The Order back by saving those they hated. Over time, she discovered her efforts to destroy those different from her had made her a prime expert on xenobiology. She no longer hated non-humans. But part of her mission in life was to rub the Order's face in its own purges. This was what placed her aboard The Fukyryu Maru.
"Raemon---what's the positive bacteria reading?"
Raemon Jarushlm was a Berengarian, or he would have been, if any bipedal sentient lived on Berengaria 4. None did. His people had long ago left that pristine world, so as not to interfere with its fragile eco-system. Part of their goal upon leaving was to amass wealth, power, and position, so that Berengaria's beauty could always be maintained against encroachment. Captain Jarushlm had used his personal fortune and position as a hero of the brief Gorn conflict to stop at all costs a Terran settlement from being allowed on Berengaria. This settlement had been approved by Starfleet officers who were members of The Order, and that was why Captain Jarushlm became First Officer Jarushlm. When asked whether or not it had been worth it, he would shrug and reply quite simply :
"Is Berengaria still beautiful?"
In the present, he nodded at the CMO, mindful of the fact that Doctor Honor would soon outrank him, as he was demoted yet again.
"Yes, sir. All factors except total air quality at 163%. Best to leave that one variable, though. Sometimes Augur needs a quick nitrogen fix."
"Belay that sir stuff. You should still be XO. Did you hear that Captain Watters refused Ranjar's handshake?"
"Val--not all of us are as peaceful as the dragons of Berengar. Some of us are like their sickly cousins, the vampiric Gyaos. But even for such as them--sunrise comes. Sunrise always comes."
On The Bridge, now-XO Bagadasarian handed a pad to Captain Watters.
"Sir--the current bridge assignments, and major crew assignments."
The punk almost threw the pad back, uninspected. He took on a sneer. He wasn't even 30 yet, and Ranjar correctly guessed he was one of those promoted early to supposedly egg James Kirk-- who the grapevine said couldn't have cared less about the youngest etc, etc.
"This is wholly unacceptable, XO. You'll do better in the future. Now, get me a list of all Terran-born Human Crew. Do it smartly, and with dispatch. Because the first piece of business---is removing these animals you had roaming your former command. Am I clear?"
Ranjar nodded, looking to Watters' untrained eye almost servile.
"Yes, sir. Crystal-Clear, sir."
Ranjar now knew two things about his replacement. He was utterly unqualified, and quite full of the usual Order-bile. In fact neither of these things were a surprise, so the former Captain gave voice to neither of them."Captain Watters, it is customary on these occasions for the senior crewman to inform the new CO of the ship's history."
Watters was re-checking the list of Terran-born humans that Bagadasarian had provided as directed. He had not yet even looked up.
"Its not a Constitution-Class. It has a puny compliment of animals, mongrels-----"
Watters looked at his predecessor.
"...and of course, race-traitors. What more could I possibly need to know?"
During his entire time on that ship, Watters would only once get something approaching a rise out of Bagadasarian. This was that time.
"Tradition will be maintained or disaster will follow."
Perhaps the sudden shift in the older man's otherwise wholly subordinate tone was enough to shake the man who was literally appointed by way of nepotism.
"Uh....Tell me about the ship's history, by all means, Number One."
"I shall. The USS DaiGo Fukyryu Maru is named for a Japanese fishing boat from Earth's 20th Century. In early 1954, Old Earth Counting, it and its crew of seasoned fishermen were caught in the wake of a Hydrogen Bomb test. All aboard died, quite horribly, some after they returned to port. The name 'Lucky Great Dragon Number Five' is an ironic one, and a reminder that we patrol the Dead Zone so that new and deadlier weapons don't need to be made and tested where innocents could be hurt. We are a Miranda class, less populous than a bigger starship like a Constitution, but for our size better armed, better armored and more fully staffed on average. That is all, sir."
The fool actually chuckled.
"We're named after some dinghy that got radiation burns? Soon as I can---that changes too. Lot of changes, XO. You-- may not be a part of them. Take the Conn. I have to speak to certain members of our crew."
Ranjar indeed took the Conn, and Watters departed the Bridge. The now-XO surveyed the inexperienced, yet all Terran human staff. One looked at him, nervously.
"Now, sir?"
"Yes, Mister Tansen. Now."
From the emergency access ladders emerged the experienced crew. Some were still human. A few were even Terran, as well. One of those by birth. One ensign gave her post to a Tej, and shook her head.
"I tried to tell him I have no clue on this thing--I do replicator maintenance, for pity's sake!"
"Patienzzz, Aaanie. We'll work it all ouut."
But the woman called Annie and all other female Bridge personnel of Terran human extraction were called down to the Briefing Room. There, Captain Watters gave an even truer accounting of himself.
"Humanity is facing race suicide. So I'm taking steps to keep our little portion of it alive, here on this poorly named ship. So it is that you ladies will be avoiding landing party duty and all such hazardous work. Only you can recreate our species' future, as we are outpaced by every crawling worm on Q'onos, and every pig on Tellar, and every bug on Andor. But I'll need far more from you. Help our Terran men not to stray from the one true genetic path. When I direct that you go with them to their cabins--you go with them. When I wish to punish them--then you withhold your favors. A great galactic change is coming. Humanity alone will survive, if we play our cards just right. I myself need to be kept pure--and I'll expect your help then, too. Don't let me and the others down. Help us up!"
He left, and when he did, the room was sound-proofed for obvious reasons. Laughing out loud at one's Captain is impolite, after all.
"Captain Watters to The Bridge."
With the switchover done once again, Watters returned and saw Bagadasarian.
"What is it, XO? I'm not through ordering up the right DNA tests. They'll be critical, you know."
"Aye, sir. But a Klingon ship just fired on an Orion Narcolot runner. Suggest we pursue and destroy."
Watters smiled.
"Now, you're talking my language. What class is the enemy ship?"
"Standard Orion Dekat. Built for close-in-hits, all speed."
The smile faded.
"You idiot! I was talking about the Klingon ship! So the stair-heads want a rumble, eh? I knew this Dead Zone Treaty crap was crap."
Bagadasarian made a choice.
The former Captain gave his orders."Fire on and destroy the Orion Freighter. They signed this treaty, too."
Before in-transit, current Captain Watters could react, let alone countermand his now-XO, the orders were fulfilled and the Orion runner obliterated. By The Dead Zone Treaty, no non-patrol ships meant exactly what it said. The Orions wouldn't even be able to have the Tellarites protest on their behalf. The document was that explicit.
Arriving on The Bridge Captain Watters was both explicit and livid, as well.
"Commander Bagadasarian--you will, prior to placing yourself under arrest and in the brig, explain your actions!"
Ranjar briefly eyed CMO Honor, former XO Jarushlm, former Chief Engineer Augur and Science Officer Tharls, before he responded. The crew knew that their true CO was on the verge of squashing this bug, once and for all.
Just not yet.
"Captain--your orders were to attack and possibly destroy that Klingon vessel. Well, sir. How am I supposed to do that when their Orion allies are at our backs? I needed to clear the field."
Watters became and looked confused. It seemed his natural state, when the huffing and the puffing was done with.
"But you said that the Klingons were attacking the Orions."
Doctor Honor spoke up.
"Perhaps one betrayed the other in their contraband tradings."
Despite the Captain's stated bias against non-humans, Tharls chimed in.
"Y-hes. Classic behavior, on both the Klingon and Orion part. On Andor, we have a saying about these situations."
When he stopped there, Watters shook his head.
"So what's the saying?"
"Oh, yew would not be interested, sahr. It is after all, an Andorian saying."
Watters nodded.
"Good point. Ok, lets be fair to our turtle-headed friends. XO, signal them to surrender. They never will, of course. Its that Rihannsu pride."
No one spoke, but mentally, one phrase was common to all but Watters.
"Klinzhai. Klingons are Klinzhai. Romulans are Rihannsu, yooou----"
Bagadasarian gave the signal.
"Klingon vessel. This is the USS DaiGo Fukyryu Maru. Under Code 15 of the Dead Zone Understandings, we bid you surrender or be destroyed."
The response message was quickly given.
"This is The Seventh Generation. Under Code 22 of The Dead Zone Understandings, we say that we shall not surrender. Our ship is too well armed, and has no weaknesses. No weaknesses at all. If you look for any weaknesses, you will not find them. You will doubtless search for these weaknesses which we do not have, but then you will feel foolish, for not only will you not find the weaknesses which we do not have, but then you will remember that I warned you that you would never find the weaknesses that we do not have."
Watters slammed his fist on the console.
"Get me a schematic of that ship!"
Bagadasarian did just that, shaking his head.
"Sir, that ship has no weaknesses. We've checked it on several
occasions."Watters scanned the readout.
"Everyone has a weakness, XO. You just have to find it and exploit it---HERE!!!"
Tharls looked it over, and feigned a stunned look.
"Oh, my. It seems our foes have a small thermal exhaust port that is shielded against phasers but not torpedoes. Myself, I think that's where we should strike them. But then again, I am just an Andorian."
Augur nodded.
"And I'm just a Tellarite. But I say--attack them at their weakest spot. Then maybe attack them again."
Watters was growing more full of himself by the minute.
"Then its settled. Even the aliens agree. XO-target the exhaust port---and FIRE!!"
Ranjar shook his head.
"Sir---to so ruthlessly exploit an enemy's obvious weakness---"
Watters ran over and pushed the buttons himself. He didn't even look at Bagadasarian.
"This is why you left The Order, isn't it? You didn't have the nerve, the daring to be part of the prevailing race."
Ranjar hung his head and looked whipped. On screen, the missiles struck true. The Klingon ship rocked, and then just drifted. A message was delivered.
"This is---The Seventh Generation. We surrender. We are ready to be boarded."
Watters smiled.
"What a prize! My Uncle may just call me back to The Hall--as a peer. XO--prepare a landing party---you're on point. In case this is a trap, I don't want to lose any worthwhile officers."
Ranjar now stood straighter.
"Sir, I can guarantee you that this is a trap. But you have my word that we will not lose a single worthwhile officer."
"A vow I'll hold you to, XO. Take care, people--we--might not make it back."
Augur saluted his Captain.
"My compliments on that precision shot, sir."
Tharls seconded.
"Ye-hes! One might even go so far as to say--It was one in a million."
Watters nodded.
"You know what? I like you two. You are both going to get the prime lower deck postings, when I finish the reshuffle."
The lift doors closed.
"I know what you're thinking, XO. But don't worry. I've still got my eye on those two. Aliens are not to be trusted."
Ranjar shrugged.
"I'd go further, sir. Nowadays, its probably a very bad idea to explicitly trust anyone."
"Now you're speaking my language, XO."
Aboard The Seventh Generation, Klingon Captain Kardif awaited his captors, weapons on the bridge floor. Captain Watters quickly drew his weapon.
"Yeah, that's right, bold warriors. You back away from those. We've got you cold, you horseshoe-crab rejects!"
And at that, the line was crossed. In a single motion, former Captain Ranjar Bagadasarian disarmed the young bigot and shoved him against the wall. Former XO Raemon Jarushlm held a phaser to the man's head, as well. Ranjar looked over at the Klingon Captain, and nodded.
"Thanks, Kardif. We couldn't have done it without you."
The Klingon smiled.
"Oh, Ranjar--its been so long since either of us called a Code 15, I wasn't going to pass this up, even for a gagh-queen about to pupate."
Watters reaction to all this was as predictable as anything else having to do with him.
"You mutinous, traitorous mongrel pack of---"
Jarushlm slapped him hard across the face.
"Show some respect! At the end of your life at least, show some respect to your betters. Captain Bagadasarian has maintained the peace on our end for five good years. No Orion or Kzinti ship gets through--period."
Watters tried to shake off the Berengarian's grasp, but it was like an ironwood locust tree's roots.
"But you're in bed with the Klingons and Romulans---the real enemy."
Kardif looked at Watters.
"You really are a fool, aren't you? The Dead Zone has nothing my people want. Nothing the Romulans want. Each side has enough firepower for TWELVE 'Last Wars'. Why would we worry about each other? Out here, boy, its who you can stand to be around--not who's your own kind. Captain Bagadasarian is a great man. When the Kzinti were attempting to rearm by our border, he not only informed me, but joined in the strike force."
Watters continued to shake.
"Why? Bagadasarian, imagine the damage those Kzinti lions could inflict on the Klingons. You cost the Federation a golden opportunity!"
Ranjar shook his head.
"Watters, Kzinti don't rearm against Klingons, humans, Vulcans, Romulans, or Leprechauns. They rearm against everyone. If every Kzinti had a phaser rifle, and every Kzinti world just three ships of moderate size and power apiece, then they would be set to expand once again. Kzinti fight until they are destroyed, and they never make that cheap or easy."
Kardif threw in once again.
"One Kzinti light cruiser took out eleven of my people's capital ships, and it was not because we were being merciful."
Bagadasarian continued.
"The Kzinti have been in a constant state of attempting to rearm, from the first day the great powers declawed them. The Orions spend half their runs trying to help them do just that--gratis. They want to prime the war-pump, as it were."
Ranjar then looked Watters in the face.
"You don't have to die. Continue on as Captain. We'll show you how it is, out here. How we all get by--sometimes even get along."
Kardif snorted.
"Don't get mushy on me, Bagadasarian."
The answer, sadly, was also quite predictable.
"You---will all die. The Order will prevail. Humanity Prevails! I fall, but under a real man like Admiral Cartwright, True Terrans never will. Even if you survive his wrath, mighty teeth are coming to grind you all to powder!"
Bagadasarian was handed a Klingon blaster. He pointed.
"But One Comes, And He Is Like A Rock. But One Comes, And She Is Like A Rock. Together, They Are The Rock. And Upon That Rock Shall Those Teeth Shatter Like Finest Glass. The boy kept in the Hall's basement, 'Captain'. I know what he is."
Watters eyes went wide.
"HE'S The Rock?"
It was the last words the unfortunate son of wealth, privilege, power and hate ever uttered. Any remains were cleansed, in the extremely unlikely event Federation investigators could safely board a Klingon ship. A package was then beamed over from the Fukyryu Maru. Ranjar handed it off to his sometimes-ally.
"Captain, this replicator is fully capable of making the food your young gagh-queens need. Should help you stretch supplies a bit."
"That it should. But is it a good model, or would we better off seeking one from our Orion contacts?"
"Well, its not top of the line. Nor does it really violate security protocols. But it must be a good one."
Ranjar pointed to the smear.
"It came from his shuttle, after all."
As the Seventh Generation and the Fukyryu Maru parted ways, reinstated XO Jarushlm oversaw some delicate work.
"Scan for any and all of Watters' DNA. Get ridiculous. Collect it, and place the collector plates in the shuttlebay."
In the meantime, Augur continued to disassemble the late Watters' shuttle, cannibalizing every last part for the lives and comfort of those aboard The Maru.
"Okay, now. Remember. Don't sand off the serial numbers. Just have the replicator recreate the part as itself. No more need be done."
CMO Honor checked the records of Watters' brief captaincy, and expunged every thing related to him. Even crew shifts and signatures were altered by someone once trained to do so by an Order that spurned her.
"Okay. No torpedoes fired at the Klingons. All were fired at the Orion ship. Errr...but the very last one was fired at a sensor shadow, thought to be another Orion. God, its hard keeping all this straight."
Once all else was done, Science Officer Tharls ran a force field over the shuttlebay, then opened the doors, albeit briefly.
"Methinks a chill wind has passed."
Then, only one stage remained to erase the unwanted visitor forever.
"Comm, send the following message to Admiral Watters, Chief Of Deep Space Operations, Admiralty Hall. Dear Sir : We have a question about the disposition of your nephew, Captain Watters. When, precisely, is he to arrive? The rendezvous was not met, and we await him anxiously. Acting Captain Bagadasarian, USS Daigo Fukyryu Maru."
Normal life aboard the ship resumed.
For about thirty seconds.
Tharls and Augur came out of the lift.
"Captain, we may have a small concern."
"Ah---yes. What our Tellarite colleague is attempting, quite uncharacteristically, not to tell you, is-----"
Augur held up a burned rock.
"We're running low on dilithium."
Tharls nodded.
"Y-hes. That was it."
Captain Bagadasarian nodded.
"So its either go to The Commodity, which wants us to be sainted liberators, go to a Hall-stronghold, which wants us dead or in jail, or die in space."
As the two mesengers left, Raemon Jarushlm approached his Captain.
"Sir--you know the Hall might send another replacement. That one probably won't be as stupid or blatant as Watters. We may not even see them for what they are, until its too late."
Ranjar nodded, smiling.
"Yes. Isn't life grand?"
With a power-hungry Admiralty on one side and an ineffectual Starfleet in exile on the other, The USS Daigo Fukyryu Maru continued its mission of patrolling a mostly worthless parcel of Treaty Markings known as The Dead Zone.
The Next Series Will Be : The Hunt For Crystal Gold---Dilithium, that is.
Dedicated to that past master of Original Crews, James Winter. -- Rob