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I welcome Ambassador Solev to Starbase 23's newly refurbished VIP/Diplomatic quarters and wish him a long, happy, and hopefully productive stay, as well as thanking him for his permission to keep his stories up on my site. His stories are good and I've enjoyed having them shown to all for the good works that they are, as well as giving the Trek fan fiction universe some much-needed diversity. I am just happy that these stories, told from the rare and unique viewpoint of a Hydran character, have a permanent, and authorised place on the 'Net.
The ambassador had not arrived as planned. This concerned all, but in particular, it bothered His Highness. Three months ago, Solev had been dispatched to investigate reports of mutinies in that sector. He had never arrived, and the HMS StarFinder was now listed officially as ‘Destroyed.’ At first, the guilds suspected Zen Toburon of killing the ambassador, but interrogation had cleared him. It was no wonder, Zen thought Solev had betrayed him by sending him away to Gibraltar and giving him a 50-year-old ship on top of it. Nothing was farther from the truth. Solev had made the recommendations in the best interest of the Royal Navy. One thing Solev was good at was keeping his personal feelings out of his business.
But still, Solev was missing. Every week for the last three months, the King had sent a Knight squadron to travel the most likely (and even some not so likely) routes that the StarFinder would have taken. There simply was no sign of the ship or her Commodore. Perhaps the gods had taken him. No one alive could ever hope to discern the plans of the gods.
Solev had been a bright spark for peace, putting himself, an outcast, a Solevetya, into danger in the hopes of bringing together two peoples who’s hatred for each other ran too deep to ever change.
It was more than that, though.
Solev had been a friend. One of few who remained true, one of the few who were not interested in the power gained by being friends with the King.
Solev stood in the hydroponics bay of the HMS StarFinder. He was looking ahead into space through a portal at the stars stretching away behind the ship, their light distorted by the warp field. His thoughts were on recent events. Zen believed he had been betrayed. And what’s worse is that Zen thought Solev had done it to take his ship from him. Soon, Zen will be at Gibraltar. He will be too busy dealing with the ISC to be angry with me. However, this is a wound that will probably never heal.
Zen believed he was getting a poor ship. The HMS Ranger after all, was the first of the Ranger-class cruisers ever commissioned. The Ranger was a fifty-year-old vessel. She was a strong ship, though. Her service record was one of glory. No other class vessel had survived twenty years in the fights against the Klingons, let alone fifty. Her engineer knew every circuit, every bolt. She would serve Zen well. Perhaps better than the StarFinder ever could have.
Solev’s reverie was broken by the sound of his communicator. “Bridge to Commodore.”
“Solev here, what do you need?”
“We are reading some kind of subspace anomaly directly ahead. We will be entering it in approximately two minutes.”
“Didn’t you detect it sooner?”
“Negative, a few moments ago, we detected two small explosions and then the anomaly.”
“Very well, take us down to Impulse power only, reinforce the forward shield. Sound the collision alert.”
“Aye, sir.”
Solev took one last deep breath of the nutrient rich methane produced by the plants in the bay. He turned to the lift to head for the bridge. Before he could make it there, the ship lurched hard to the right; the sound of groaning Tritanium filled the air. The lights flickered, then turned red. Alarms began ringing. Solev recovered his feet and rushed to the lift.
“What happened?” Solev shouted as the lift opened on the bridge.
“We miscalculated the speed of expansion, we hit the anomaly at warp 4.56.” The helmsman was furiously trying to recover control of the ship, all three hands running across his console at the same time. “We are now dead in space, helm hardly answers.”
“Engineering!” Solev snapped. “Damage report!”
“Shields down to 10%, Warp integrity failed, inertial dampers shorted out, they couldn’t handle the impact.” The sound of a secondary explosion came over the intercom. “Warp core shielding is failing, I don’t think we can hold it for long!”
Behind him, the weapons officer spoke. “Commodore, we have two contacts, bearing 027 mark 12 and 027 mark 8. They’re Orion, sir.”
“On screen!”
Two ships appeared on the viewport beyond the residual lights of the two explosions, a Battle Raider and a Light Raider. They were closing fast.
“Weapons! Lock onto them! Comms, give me a channel!”
“I can’t sir,” The comm chief tried again; his panel was lit with warning lights. “Those were Neutronic Bombs, it’s blocked all communications.”
“Sir, They’ve fired plasma!”
“Evade!”
“Too late!”
The ship rocked as the torpedo ripped into the StarFinder’s hull. The lighting failed completely, the main screen went dark.
“Abandon ship! All hands Abandon ship!”
The StarFinder imploded slowly, almost as if it were trying to draw out its moment of death as long as it possibly could. Soon, there was nothing left except a ball of expanding gasses and shrapnel.
Space is large, and almost completely empty. So empty in fact that the small burnt cylinder drifted for months without being noticed. It was only about one meter long and had been boosted into flight by the throes of a dying ship. It should not have been discovered; the odds were greatly against it.
Stokoran however had his eye on this particular object. He monitored its path and nudged it through gravity fields. He caused solar winds to subtly alter its course. Over the vast distances, Stokoran watched this small projectile coast along at about half the speed of light until it came within range of the sensors of the HMS Hydran Sun.
“Sir, I think it is a log buoy.”
“Bring it aboard. Engage radiation protocols.”
“Aye Sir.”
A narrow blue beam reached out from the ship and held the object still. A moment later, the sparkle of transporters caused it to vanish. Once inside, technical crews began to analyze and repair it. If it were a log buoy, it would contain the last moments of its ship’s death. The crews worked on it for nearly three hours. Then they alerted the bridge.
In the captain’s ready room, the screen lit up with typical log buoy entries. It had come from the HMS StarFinder. Parts of the images were damaged, but it was clear that the ambassador had run into trouble.
“What happened?” Solev shouted as the lift opened on the bridge.
“We miscalculated the speed of expansion, we hit the anomaly at warp 4.56.” The helmsman was furiously trying to recover control of the ship, all three hands running across his console at the same time. “We are now dead in space, helm hardly answers.”
“Engineering!” Solev snapped. “Damage report!”
“Shields down to 10%, Warp integrity failed, inertial dampers shorted out, they couldn’t handle the impact.” The sound of a secondary explosion came over the intercom. “Warp core shielding is failing, I don’t think we can hold it for long!”Behind him, the weapons officer spoke. “Commodore, we have two contacts, bearing 027 mark 12 and 027 mark 8. They’re Orion, sir.”
“On screen!”
Two ships appeared on the viewport beyond the residual lights of the two explosions, a Battle Raider and a Light Raider. They were closing fast.
“Weapons! Lock onto them! Comms, give me a channel!”
“I can’t sir,” The comm chief tried again; his panel was lit with warning lights. “Those were Neutronic Bombs, it’s blocked all communications.”
“Sir, They’ve fired plasma!”
“Evade!”
“Too late!”
The screen went blank, no indication of how the battle ended. Since the buoy had been the only thing recovered, it could not have been good.
Captain Strassin watched the film quietly. He sat for a long time after it ended not saying a thing; he simply sat and thought. He stood, went to the view port. He appeared to come to a decision. Turning back to the officers assembled around the table, he spoke:
“Send this to the palace, security code 4. Alert the police forces as well, they are supposed to prevent this kind of thing from happening. We are going to make best speed to the StarFinder’s last known location. She has been gone for months, but we have got to find those pirates.”
Subaltern Haraxit raised an arm. “Sir, the chances of us finding those responsible are ridiculous. Those pirates are long gone.”
“That may be, but we are going to try.”
“Sir, I must protest, we are needed here on the Klingon border…”
“Damnit!” the captain shouted. “Solev was our last best hope for peace with the Lyrans and Klingons. I will not let him die at the hands of pirates! I know Solev too well. He will find a way to survive. His ship is gone, that does not mean he is! I have given you orders, you will obey them!”
The subaltern sat back down. It was rare for the captain to be so vocal. He must have a personal stake in this somehow, Haraxit thought. Did he know the ambassador?
The King watched the transmission from the Hydran Sun. So now we have some idea as to what happened. With a wave, he dismissed the aides who had watched the video with him. He wanted to be alone.
Hydraxan paced the throne room. After the explosions and alarms on the transmission, it was eerily quiet. To all outward appearances, Solev was dead. He had grown up with Solev, watched him rise above his outcast status to become someone important for the Kingdom. Both hearts were pained to think that Solev was gone. And yet, there was this nagging feeling that not everything was as it seemed. Hydraxan strode over to his throne and thumbed on the intercom.
“Prime Minister Orodan, call together the guildmasters, the admiralty, and commanders Yelwoc and Strassin. Get them here as quickly as possible!”
Two days later, nearly thirty Hydrans filled the audience chamber. Many of the guildmasters were squabbling amongst themselves over trade rights and construction contracts. The admirals and commanders sat around the long low table quietly ignoring the petty arguments.
When the King strode into the room, all went quiet and all rose from their seats. Hydraxan moved to his seat at the head of the table and sat. After he sat down, the others did as well.
“Some of you may already know that we received a transmission from Captain Strassin concerning a log buoy from the HMS StarFinder. And you may know that Commodore Solev has been missing for the last three months. The buoy filled in some important blanks in our knowledge, and fleet command has already declared Solev dead, killed in action.”
When he spoke those words, several of those in the room began to mutter quietly. Few did not know the name Solev, and the fact that he was declared dead was not good for the Kingdom.
“I do not believe he is, however. I have no proof, of course. I have only a feeling. I feel that the gods are trying to tell me that he is alive.”
This prompted a new wave of murmurs.
“I feel this way because lately, I have felt the presence of Stokoran the Great, Solev’s personal god. Stokoran never appeared before me until this. As such, I am creating a special task force at the recommendation of my priest and the admiralty. Its job will be to locate any and all clues as to the whereabouts of Solev and the ships that attacked him. You will have to be careful, they are using Neutronic bombs. They are subspace weapons that the United Federation of Planets is trying to get banned. Captain Strassin, you are to head this new task force. You will be awarded the rank of Commodore, and given control of a special fleet. Commander Yelwoc, I am sorry for the recent troubles you have had at Hydraxaport, and wish to speak with you after this meeting. The rest of you will be given your orders and obligations as soon as you return to your ships. That is all I have right now. Go, and serve the Kingdom to your best abilities. We must find Solev, no matter what the cost.”
Yelwoc and Strassin remained while the others filed out. Strassin approached first.
“Your Highness,” the new commodore bowed as he approached. “I, too knew Solev, and called him friend. I have heard of the work he has done for peace. I promise you that I will spare no effort to find him again.”
“You served with him before he retired didn’t you?”
“Yes, Sire. He was a very capable commander. I believe he would have found some way to survive.”
“You do know Solev, then. That is one of the reasons I chose you for this task force. Find him! In these days of darkness, the Kingdom needs every Solev, every Strassin. Do not lose yourself in this quest.”
“I will do my best, Your Majesty.” Strassin stood and walked out of the chamber. Yelwoc approached and kneeled.
“Stand, Mas. As I said before, I know that you have been under a lot of stress. And I apologize for the inquisitions and interrogations. You understand we had to know where your loyalties truly lay.”
“I understand, Your Majesty. If I were in your position, I would have done the same.”
“Good, I want you to return to Hydraxaport and continue the investigation. Somehow I think the events there are tied to this debacle. Dig as deeply as you can. I need to know which guilds are most against our achieving peace with the Lyrans. Send all you find by my personal courier and no one else. Take this,” The King pressed a Talisman into Yelwoc's hand. “It will grant you access to the palace should you ever need to again without my sending for you. Come back to me when you are sure you have found the one person most responsible. Trust no one with that piece of information, not even my courier.”
“I will do as you command, my lord.”
After Yelwoc left, Hydraxan again paced the throne room, as he had done so many times since Solev’s disappearance. He moved over to his shrine, and kneeled. He lit incense and let the smoke surround him.
“Stokoran, do you know where Solev is?” He asked, knowing the gods will hear if he trusts them to. “Why has this happened?” The King sat entwined in smoke, waiting for an answer…
Solev once again walked along the line of slaves, making sure none of them faltered or fought. Two months ago, an Orion Slaver decided that this was the work best suited to Solev. Solev hated it. He was also a slave, but as the master of Konn’s slaves, he was a bit more immune to the rough treatment the others received on a daily basis. Each of the slaves was bound by the wrists in short chains, just long enough to let their hands hang at their sides, each one tied to the next. There were green Orion women, an emaciated Lyran, a very young Gorn. All of them looked beaten. In fact, that wasn’t far from the truth. Orion slavers tended to be the cruelest masters, even more so sometimes than a Lyran or Mirak with their ire up. Lord Konn was the worst.
As Solev moved up the line of slaves, he passed a Hydran. He did not recognize the face, but he did recognize the symbol on the tattered remains of his uniform. This Hydran had served aboard the StarFinder, and was one of his crew. He was having difficulty breathing; his methane apparatus was leaking. Solev reached up and tightened a hose on the back of the mask. The Hydrans breathing eased a bit.
“Tevyn!” Konn was calling him, he didn’t know that he had captured Solev, He had admitted a false name when he was captured. “Tevyn! Quit messing around with that! We have to get all of these up to the auction block now!” To make his point, Konn twitched an Electro-whip he carried to keep slaves in line.
“Yes, Master. I apologize.” Solev bowed and went back to his work. As he walked away, he whispered to his crewman, “The gods watch over you always.”
Since Konn had made him his master of slaves, he had no fear of being placed on the auction block. He did have to watch, as all the others were bid on like some kind of cattle. Solev had no idea where he was. Konn did not allow him access to the bridge of his battle raider, and none of the Orion crew was permitted to talk to slaves. This cannot be in Federation Space, he thought, this place would have been shut down long ago.
The auction area was a mass of people. All kinds were here, Lyrans, Mirak, Terrans, Tellarites, even a Romulan or two. Where two hostile races tried to share space there was inevitably a fight of some kind. One by one the slaves were brought before the people, bids were placed, people were bought and sold without even a single word in their own defense. His crewman was put up for auction next.
“How much am I bid for this Hydran? They aren’t much to look at but, their third arm makes them useful for all manner of tasks!”
“Ill give you twenty Altairs for that slug!”
“Twenty Altairs!” An Andorian shouted. The auctioneer looked shocked. “Sir, this beast is worth at least one hundred!”
The crowd laughed at the auctioneer. He was known to try and over inflate bid prices. A Mirak was the next to speak.
“Forty!”
The Andorian countered with “Fifty!”
With his voice as level and cool as he could manage, the Mirak spoke to the auctioneer. “I’ll give you one hundred fifty Altairs, and these…” He gave a small fur bag to the auctioneer, who opened it to find blood pearls, ten of them. Each one was the size of a walnut.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the bidding on this slave is over. The Mirak wins!”
The Mirak licked his lips as he turned to his companions. “Tonight we will eat well!”
The thought turned Solev's stomachs. He had to close his eyes against the tears and hold his breath until he could stand without retching. While his eyes were closed, everything went totally white, then red…
“Abandon Ship! All hands abandon ship!”
Another explosion rocked the hull of the StarFinder. Solev started to run towards his ready room, where his personal escape pod waited. Three Orions in space suits materialized in front of him. One grabbed him, and he felt the wash of the transporter beam take him.
When the sparkling ended, he found himself in a cargo hold with some thirty of his crew. There was the sound of an explosion, and through a viewport, Solev watched his ship disintegrate.
Solev stood, stunned as he watched the explosion expand away from the point where the StarFinder had been moments before. Then the ship he was on went to warp, and the wreckage disappeared, instantly buried behind a rapidly increasing distance. He turned to look at the crew in the hold with him. None of them had on respirators, but the air was breathable, if a bit stale. That meant then that the hold had been pressurized with methane. It would likely be impossible to go anywhere else on the ship. As he looked around, he could see thirty Hydran faces looking up at him, asking without words. “What are we going to do?”
He had no answer. Gods help him; he had no answer…