#i tried to contact my party commander but she was like? afflicted with some brain scrambing thing that didnt allow her to talk to me

[astraleulogy]

finally remembered the dream i had last night

[speedygal]

Not a logical intervention - part 68

“And he is done,” Hall said, then turned in the direction of the commodore. “I don’t expect to see you or Officer Reeds in here, again, the way he came in.”

Orego almost looked like a fuzzy variation of himself with his scales more apparent. By Orego’s side stood Commander Lurille and Lieutenant Ku’Mie. Orego slowly nodded then looked over toward toward Kirk. Kirk was sitting in a chair alongside the resting Vulcan. Kirk’s hands were clasped together. It had been a day since the attack. Orego pitied the elderly man. His attention turned back toward the biobed.

“Take him to the brig,” Orego said.

Lurille and Ku’Mie escorted Reeds out of Sick Bay.

“Sit down, Commodore,” Hall said, gesturing toward a biobed. “You have some defensive wounds.”

Orego sat onto the side of the biobed.

“I was trying to bring him in, willingly,” Orego said, rolling his sleeves up with a wince. “Ow.”

“Most people don’t want to be caught,” Hall said, taking a dermal generator.

Orego glanced off toward Hall who silently used the device. The dermal generator was slid up and down above his skin. There was a gentle hum from the device.

“I am getting him on conspiracy to kill,” Orego said.

“Oh really,” Hall said.

“Attempting to coerce a admiral into murder, and being aboard this ship as a section 31 member. They are not allowed on vessels where I am on,”   Orego went on, as Hall merely nodded pretending to listen. “It’s a rule that Starfleet instituted after my first rodeo with section 31.”

Hall moved the device to the other arm.

“Uh huh,” Hall said.

“And he is going to a prison ship should section 31 not get him out,” Orego said.

“Wow,” Hall said.

“They can’t cross the line of taking advantage of someone so compromised,” Orego said.

Hall finished up the cleaning.

“Done, Commodore,” Hall said, then handed the dermal generator to a nurse.

Hall glanced over toward Spock.

The operation hadn’t been easy to repair the damage done by the attack. Most of the damage was afflicted on his back and head. Shalia had done most of the repairs on the Vulcan brain. It had taken a team of doctors to save Spock’s spine. And that was not easy. Assistants wiping the sweat off their foreheads. Authorized to use any technology necessary to ensure survival. Technology that the doctors didn’t think they had at all. It was Vulcanian and human at nature which was indicators that he was a hybrid. The long glance the doctors shared and the silence in the room. Hall logged in to the medical file regarding the two officers. Shalia had informed the medical professionals not to be talking about the discovery as it was, not surprisingly, classified per Admiral Miller’s order.

It was day two of the ride back to Earth.

It was December 7th, 2234.

The USS Hood, Walker class, was making way through space headed in the direction of Earth. The doors wooshed opened before Charles to the colorful bridge. The familiar beeping from the stations, the scanner, and the turbo lift sounds. A familiar sound on every bridge. T’Pot sitting in the chair speaking with the head science officer while having coffee in one hand. The two officers looked over with as much of a pleased professionalism about them. The bridge was bright and joyful not dark and gritty. It is what he liked about bridges in general. They were bright enough to match the mood of the federation. Walker Classes were a exception, and he did not know why it was that way. Magee classes were also part of the exception.

“Commodore,” T’Pot said, lowering her cup. “What brings you here?”

“I am visiting,” Charles said. “For a fifty year old ship. This feels very modern.”

T’Pot glanced over toward the head science office then back toward Charles.

“Of course,” T’Pot said. “we manage to keep up with the updates Star Fleet gives every year.” Charles stopped where he had been walking when the screen simmered.

“Captain. . .” Charles said. “I  believe you need to put this ship on red alert.”

A collection of vessels appeared in space around the simmering section.

“Cardassian vessels,” the head science officer said. “What brings them here.”

“Captain, we are being hailed,”T’Pot’s eyes trailed from the Commodore toward the communications officer then toward the screen. T’Pot zipped her command blue up.

“Allow hailing,” T’Pot said.

“This is Gul Prit,” Prit said. He had a goatee and seemed to have his hair u in a bun while leaned against the chair. He had a bruise from the side of his face. A chipped obvious fang sticking out. From behind Prit’s vessel appeared Sachj’s vessel. “Leave this to us.”

“I don’t know whether to believe that,” T’Pot said. “we are returning to Earth.”

“You can get there, just wait behind us,” Prit said. “we can easily take care of this threat.”

“What are you facing?” T’Pot asked.

“We Cardassians call it mar ol'lo tef'Cha,” Prit said. Green life killer. “You call it the. . what is it again?”

“Culborough Gresociou,” Charles said, as he stepped forward in the direction of the captain’s chair. The name was neither English or another language, it was named  after him and three others who had found a way to rescue him. The very same group who found a way to send the creature far out of the alpha quadrant. And it costed the rescue parties lives in doing so. The name was haunting and yet unknown, mysterious, just as a mythical creature from earth’s past. He came to a stop alongside T’Pot. “you should leave.”

“Hah,” Prit said. “When did Cardassians retreat?“

“You retreated in first contact with the federation,” the head science officer said.

“Because we were at victory,” Prit said.

“The victory you got was speaking via  universal translator and able to understand each other,” T’Pot said. “We will find another way around you and this creature. Perhaps if we do not attack it then it will not attack us.”

She turned in the direction of the communications officer giving the signal to end the communication.

“Yes, Captain,” Brett said.

T’Pot picked up her coffee cup then took another sip from it. The screen turned dead. Charles felt sick so he left the bridge. Few officers were concerned. T’Pot waited as the navigator began to plot a course. The bright blue giant figure appeared in space. T’Pot watched the vessel vanish as they jumped into warp going past the scenery. In mid warp they were stopped unexpectedly like something had collided against the ship acting as a barrier. Bole looked up from her novel, troubled. Kirk’s  raised head up in alarm while holding onto Spock’s hand. Spock’s eyes slowly opened, without aim, turning his head toward the admiral slowly starting to speak in concern. Orego collided against the wall across from some ensigns. T’Pot stood up with wide eyes. The creature, the Culborough Gresociou, had a barrier up. The Gresociou sent a wave of green sparkling like torpedos after it. They slammed onto Prit’s ship sending a wave of flames landing damage upon,

“Red alert,” T’Pot said, holding onto her coffee cup. “Battle stations.”

The ship was brightened by the hue of red inside as Charles ran down the corridor.

Sachj appeared in a blue light in Bole’s quarters as a hologram.

“Sharon,”  Sachj said. “I brought the cavalry.”

Bole stood up. 

“You knew it would be here and you failed to alarm the USS Hood,” Bole said.

“They would not believe a space pirate,” Sachj said.

“They would have listened to a ex-officer,” Bole said. “I would have listened.”

“No,” Sachj said. “you didn’t.”

“I have,” Bole said. “If you want to help then get out of here.”

“There’s a problem about that,” Sachj said. “Tried, aND--”

Bole laughed.

“You’re stuck,” Bole said. “How funny is that you’ve gotten your crew into something you can’t get out of?”

“Star Fleet can get out of this,” Sachj said.

“Can we?” Bole asked, doubtfully. “We only got out of this by cooperation between officers.”

“Dear,” Sachj rubbed his forehead. “You want me to offer my services?”

“Your crew compliment before it gets destroyed,” Bole said. “Depending where you are. You might be next on the menu,” she laid her book down then came toward the man. “Why did you become a space pirate? To explore? To steal? Pirates don’t kill in space,” her black eyes saw through the man. She stepped forward toward him. “you’re afraid of something.”

Sachj grew grim.

“Fine,” Sachj said, folding his arms. “Just this once I will be cooperative with Starfleet.”

“The captain is T’Pot,” Bole said.

“That security chief,” Sachj said. “I remember her from one of my runs.  Nice to hear she got what she deserved.” Sachj turned away and vanished from the betazoid’s room.

Bole briefly closed her eyes then reopened them with a sigh  as the light in her room glowed a gentle red.