Cap'n Pierce's Word Processor

[CaptainPierce]

I'm always looking for new and quirky ways to write, so what I'm going to do here is a very WIP version of my latest idea. Don't be surprised if a lot of editing gets down to these posts...

Prologue
15 January, 2155

Deep underneath Starfleet Headquarters, in a secret command complex called "The Vault," Fleet Admiral Alan Gardner pondered his options for the hundredth time.

And, for the hundredth time, came to the conclusion that he didn't have very damned many.

The intercom on his desk chimed. "Defiant has dropped out of warp, Admiral," one of the young lieutenants manning the Vault reported.

"Send them in," Gardner ordered. The task force he'd assembled wasn't near as large as he'd have liked, a single Neptune-class cruiser flanked by a pair of Saturn-class ships; but Starfleet had been stretched thin--and lost a lot of ships--trying to put down the non-Terran rebellion. Realistically, he knew those three ships didn't have a snowball's chance in a supernova against those weapons on the Defiant, but he couldn't bring himself to give up Terra without a fight. "Give me tactical," he added, and the viewscreen on the wall of the office showed the wedge of three ships vectoring toward Defiant.

They were still well outside their weapons range when the tactical display showed Defiant firing. "Phasers" only, whatever the hell those were. "Good," Gardner said to himself, "you've still got to conserve those photon torpedos, don't you?" Still, they were enough. It only took one blast each to take out the Saturns, but Gardner was almost glad to see that the Neptune absorbed two hits before finally being destroyed by the third.

"Defiant is entering standard orbit, sir," the Lieutenant reported. She paused. "They're hailing."

"Put them through," Gardner ordered. All right, Archer, you bastard, he thought. You've won this battle, but the war is far from over...

The viewscreen came on, showing the bridge of the Defiant. Exactly the same as it had looked the last time Archer had contacted him--except that Archer was nowhere to be found. "This is the Starship Defiant," a woman's voice said, and it took Gardner a second to identify who was speaking. An Asian woman was stepping down in front of the main Bridge console. "If you don't surrender immediately, we'll begin targeting your cities. Respond."

Fleet Admiral Gardner was a veteran of conflicts with the Klingons, the Romulans, the Suliban, and a dozen other races, but there was one enemy he had no real defense against: confusion. He'd spent the better part of the last two days marshalling arguments against Archer--but Archer was nowhere to be found. "Where's Archer?" was all he could manage to say. "Who the hell are you?"

The Asian woman gave him one of the coldest smiles he'd ever seen. "You're speaking with Empress Sato," she said. "Prepare to receive instructions.".

[Atrahasis]

One thing...the term "Oriental" is out of date. The more popular term these days is "Asian". As I had it explained to me, "oriental" is a kind of rug. ;D

[CaptainPierce]

Are you telling me to be PC, Atra?

Chapter One
28 March, 2155

"Anything?" Captain Erika Hernandez asked.

"Nothing," Science Officer Koss answered.

"Damn," Hernandez said under her breath. How fast can that thing go? she wondered.

Hernandez's ship, the NX-02 ISS Cortez, had spent almost a month searching for the USS Defiant now. Ostensibly, it was to provide the Empress with an "honor guard," but it was clear that knowing the Empress' location was the first step in dethroning her. Empress Sato certainly seemed to be aware of this, which was why she continued to avoid all the ships seeking to provide her with an "honor guard," and transmit her orders back to Earth from a different location every time.

Early that morning, Cortez had gotten a fix on a subspace transmission originating just a couple of light-years away. They'd rushed to that location, scanned for Defiant's engine trail, and began following it at maximum warp.

Eight hours later, they'd had to throttle back to Warp 5.3, her chief engineer was still muttering darkly about the state of the warp core, and the trail was growing colder all the time.

"Captain, I'm reading a high-band subspace transmission," D'Nagh reported from Communications.

"From Defiant?" Hernandez asked.

"No, sir--from inside Cortez!"

"Location?"

"Main turbolift shaft!"

Hernandez spun in her chair just as she heard the 'lift doors open. Her hand, which was already reaching for her phase pistol, was stopped short and held immobile well away from the weapon.

Cortez's first officer, Commander Anthony Jackson, stepped out of the turbolift. In his right hand was the source of the high-band transmission, one of the gold communicators from Defiant. In his left hand was a large Orion-made blaster, its glowing muzzle pointed directly at his Captain.

Hernandez forced her anger deep down inside herself. "So, it's going to be like this, is it?" she asked as calmly as she could.

"It is," Jackson said with a smile. "Stand up, Captain."

She obeyed, and the hand holding her arm let go. She felt her phase pistol and knife both being pulled from their places on her belt. "Tony I can understand," she said to the man disarming her, "but you?"

"Sorry, Captain," he said, and to her surprise she could actually hear regret in Sergeant Jose Tyler's voice.

Tyler had been her personal guard for five years, and the thought of his betrayal brought the anger swelling up inside her again--and this time she didn't suppress it. "'Sorry?'" she snapped. "You're 'sorry' you're helping with this mutiny?"

"Seems to me that this isn't exactly a mutiny," Jackson said. "Hunting the Empress' ship like it was an Orion smuggler is hardly the action a loyal Starfleet officer should be taking."

"I am obeying orders from Starfleet Command--"

"Yes, I know. Don't worry, Captain, the admirals who issued those orders will have their day as well. Yours is simply coming a little sooner." He gestured with the blaster, and Tyler pushed her toward the 'lift.

She paused just short of the 'lift, allowing her gaze to fall obviously on the Cortez's dedication plaque. "Seems a shame to let things end this way," she said, loudly enough so that the entire Bridge crew could hear her. "I've always tried to make sure that you had a fair share of our glory--or any other fringe benefits of our missions." She ran a hand lightly over the letters spelling "ISS Cortez" on the plaque, certain that no one would notice her touch lingering briefly on the "o."

"True," Jackson admitted, "but the gratitude of a Captain can't compete with the gratitude of an Empress, I'm afraid."

"No, I suppose it can't," Hernandez said. "Still--"

And that was when she struck. The tiny dagger had slid silently out of its hiding place when she pressed the "o," and she brought it across Jackson's cheek before burying it completely in Tyler's neck. How's that for "gratitude," you son of a bitch! she wanted to yell at them both, but she was already in the turbolift, using the manual controls rather than voice activation so nobody would hear her destination. They'd be able to track her, of course--and for that matter, Tyler would know where she was headed if they could keep him alive long enough to tell them--but there was no point in making it too easy.

When the turbolift stopped near the lifeboats, she exited it--but not in the usual way. She left through the access panel in the ceiling, moving quickly down the 'lift shaft thirty meters or so to where a Jeffries tube intersected with the shaft for maintenance. Once inside the Jefferies tube, she allowed herself a few moments' rest. Once the MACO's had secured the lifeboats, including the one that Tyler had specially prepared for her should it ever be required, they'd move on to securing all the other ways off the ship. They'd search the shuttlebay first, then leave a guard or two stationed there while they began a sweep of the ship. She headed for the shuttlebay, taking her time, making sure only that guard would be there when she arrived.

They had in fact left two guards, she discovered. The first, in the control room, she knocked out with a well-placed kick as she dropped down from the tube, then slit his throat with his own dagger. The second she shot with the first's rifle. Maximum setting, she noticed. I guess Tony's not interested in taking me alive.

She spent a few minutes in the control room, using her computer override access to scramble most of the ship's systems. She brought down all the emergency bulkheads, diverted helm control to Engineering without the usual notifications, and crashed the main sensor control program. It would only buy her a short amount of time, maybe half an hour, but with luck, that would be enough. She then linked with the shuttlepods' onboard computers, programming course parameters as quickly as she could.

Jackson had been smart enough to lock down the shuttlebay doors from the Bridge, but there were ways around that. Hernandez opened a seldom-used parts locker and removed the dummy floor, smiling as she saw the device she'd hidden there was still in place. She placed it in the proper position on the bay doors, set the timer, and ran for the inspection pod. She'd just sealed the hatch when the shaped explosive charge detonated, blasting the doors open and sucking both the shuttlepods and the inspection pod out into space.

She'd braced herself, but the jolt of crossing the Cortez's warp-field boundary was even worse than she'd imagined. She stabilized the pod's tumble, then chose a course at random and burned the engines at maximum thrust for thirty seconds. Hopefully, the shuttlepods were doing the same thing, serving as a diversion. She didn't expect Jackson to waste too much time searching for her--this far out into space, with no inhabited planets nearby, she was as good as dead anyway--but she hadn't stayed alive this long by doing things halfway.

Hernandez programmed the pod's distress beacon to wait 24 hours, and then send out a very specific signal. Then, she removed a hypospray from the pod's first-aid kit. Inside it was an experimental drug called Metabonil, designed to slow a person's metabolism down so that the limited oxygen supply of a lifeboat could keep them alive for days, even weeks, longer than otherwise. She stared at the hypo for a few moments, then injected herself with it.

As the sedative effect of the drug kicked in, Hernandez's last thought was of the revenge she would have on Jackson, Tyler, and--if she got the chance--"Empress" Sato herself.

[CaptainPierce]

(Chapters 2 and 3 still need some work, but I'm posting what I have.)

Chapter Two
7 June, 2155

Captain Mark Niobe of the ISS Intrepid looked at the chart on his viewscreen. "We've scanned every sector we were assigned, Captain," his science officer was reporting. "No sign of Defiant or Cortez."

Niobe nodded. "All right. Lieutenant, set course for Earth. Warp--"

The communications officer interrupted. "Captain, I'm picking up an unusual signal. It's on a Starfleet channel, but I've never heard anything like it.

Niobe walked over and picked up an earpiece. "Let me hear it." He listened for a moment, then punched up a waveform analysis of the signal. "Do you have a fix on it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Intercept course," Niobe ordered. "Maximum warp."

* * * * *

"Looks like a Starfleet inspection pod," the science officer said, studying the readouts. "What's it doing out this far?"

"Life signs?" Niobe asked.

"One, very faint."

"Tractor beam. Bring it onboard."

* * * * *

"How is she?" Niobe asked. He was in Intrepid's cramped infirmary, looking at the woman on the single treatment bed.

"I'm not sure," Dr. Robards replied. "She injected herself with some sort of metabolic agent. I'm familiar with the concept, but not the particular drug she used. If I had to guess, I'd say she might have accidentally used too much, and slipped into a coma."

"Can she come out of it?"

"I don't see any reason why not. But there's no telling when."

"Well, we're headed back to Earth at maximum warp," Niobe said as he walked out the door. "Maybe somebody back at Starfleet Medical can do something for her.

Chapter Three
15 July, 2157

When she opened her eyes, she was only mildly surprised to not see the interior of the inspection pod. She'd known that bringing her out of the Metabonil might be tricky, and that any ship's doctor would probably want to have her in sickbay for it.

Except, she realized, that this wasn't any starship's sickbay--it was too big, and too well-stocked. She had just enough time to wonder where the hell she was before her eyes closed again.

She woke again, after some time had passed, to judge by the angle of the sunlight through the window, and this time she wasn't alone in the room. "Where the hell am I?" she asked the somewhat blurry figure in front of her.

The person moved closer, and she realized with a shock that she'd just sworn at Admiral Blackwell. Fleet Admiral Blackwell, she realized as she noticed the insignia on his epaulets. "How long have I been out?" she asked, suddenly not caring as much where she was.

"More than two years," the Admiral told her gently.

She considered that for a moment. "What have I missed?" she asked, and then fell unconscious again.

"A hell of a lot," Blackwell said.

* * * * *

"Empress Sato had Gardner assassinated," Blackwell explained. "She was apparently none too pleased once your X.O. had filled her in on the plan to track Defiant."

"I can imagine," Hernandez said. It had been a week since she first woke up, and she was just now starting to feel like herself again. "How'd you get the job?"

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I happened to be meeting with Gardner when the assassination took place, and the Empress told me to take over. And, in no uncertain terms, to tell all Starfleet vessels to stay the hell away from Defiant." Blackwell paused. "Except, of course, for her little personal fleet, which no longer take orders from anyone but her."

"How many ships does she have?"

"Just two, as near as I can tell: Cortez and Enslaver."

"Two of the only three NX-class ships we have left," Hernandez said, sinking back into the bed.

"It does pose a certain problem."

Hernandez sat up again. "It's only a 'problem' if you intend to attack the Defiant, wouldn't you say, Admiral?"

"Hardly," he told her with a slight smile. "It's also a problem when you have an Empire to patrol and defend. If the Klingons, for example, were to mount an offensive, I'd have a damned difficult time getting ships in position fast enough."

"Unless the Empress decided to take care of it personally, of course."

Blackwell laughed bitterly. "Archer might have done that, if he'd become Emperor, but our Empress hardly strikes me as the type to lead the charge herself. No, Defiant will be kept well away from any fight."

Hernandez looked around the room. "It's all right," Blackwell said, "the room is secure."

"Are you going to attack Defiant?" she asked.

"No," he told her, "you are."

[CaptainPierce]

Chapter Four
1 August 2157

As she, Admiral Blackwell, and their guards walked across Starfleet Medical's landing pad, Hernandez noticed two pairs of Scimitar tactical fighters patrolling overhead. She smiled at Blackwell, remembering the days when he'd been the leader of the Fleet Admiral's escort squadron, and she'd been a rookie pilot on his wing. He smiled back. "Have you ever seen a Scimitar?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not up close."

"You'll have to take a look sometime. You won't believe how much improved they are over the old Katanas we used to fly."

They stepped inside the waiting shuttlepod, and Hernandez was impressed. Although externally similar to a standard 'pod, the Admiral's was larger, and quite different inside. The aft compartment was separated from the pilot's chair by a sound-proof--and, Hernandez suspected, phase-pistol-proof--bulkhead, and featured four comfortable-looking chairs in a circle around what seemed to be a computer terminal of some sort.

"Why don't you ride up front?" Blackwell suggested to Ramirez, Hernandez's new guard. It was only then that she realized that Blackwell's guard hadn't entered the shuttle with them. Blackwell touched a control on the bulkhead, and the hatch opened. Hernandez suspected that the pilot's compartment didn't have a door control on its side of the bulkhead.

Ramirez looked at her. "It's all right," she said. If the Admiral had wanted her dead, he certainly wouldn't have had her cared for by his personal physicians for the last two years. Ramirez nodded and stepped through to the front compartment.

Blackwell gestured her to a chair, and they sat down. He touched a control on the arm of his chair. "Take us up."

Hernandez felt the slightest hint of acceleration as the pilot engaged the thrusters. "So, are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

Blackwell touched another control. "Computer--display schematics of NX-150."

The triple viewer on top of the computer terminal came on with a view of a starship unlike any Hernandez had ever seen. A spherical primary hull, with a cylindrical secondary hull behind and pylons holding the nacelles out and up from the secondary. "This is what I'm supposed to use to hunt down the Defiant?" she asked.

The Admiral smiled at the skepticism in her voice. "It looks a little different than an NX, I know, but we've spent the last ten years working out the subspace field geometries on this ship, and trust me--it's fast."

"How fast?"

"Maximum speed should be somewhere above Warp Six. And she can run above Warp Five at least three times longer than an NX."

Hernandez nodded. "What sort of firepower is she packing?"

"The usual complement of phase cannon and disruptors, although the power levels are higher than an NX. And she has a few other surprises as well." Blackwell smiled, and touched a control. "Computer, zoom in on Deck Twelve, Section One."

"Photon torpedoes?" Hernandez was clearly unimpressed. "We've been using those for fifteen years now, ever since we... borrowed... the technology from the Klingons."

"Yes, but look a little closer at the specifications."

"Are those warhead yield figures correct?" she asked.

"Of course. It hasn't been easy, but we've managed to get a little information off Defiant in the last two years. Most of it will take us years to reverse-engineer, but their photon torpedoes are similar enough to ours that the enhancements were easy to duplicate."

"Impressive firepower. I'm starting to think we might almost have a chance of pulling this off."

Blackwell looked out the window, and pressed his intercom again. "Take us in closer to the Museum."

The Imperial Museum, located at the L5 point between Terra and Luna, was a huge complex showcasing the many victories of the Empire. Hernandez looked out at the sleeper ship Botany Bay, the escape vessel Emperor Singh had prepared when it seemed as though he might be overthrown by his former lieutenant Joaquin, but had never needed.

"When Defiant is destroyed, what then?" Hernandez asked. "Emperor Blackwell has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Blackwell shook his head. "I have no desire to be Emperor."

"You prefer to be the power behind the throne?"

"A throne can be wonderful thing to hide behind when the bullets start flying."

"Who do you plan to install, then?"

Blackwell stared out the window at the old Vulcan cruiser T'Plana. The shuttlepod was close enough that Hernandez could see inside the landing bay, where the First Contact between Earth and Vulcan was recreated. The lander T'Plana Hath was there, with the stuffed and mounted body of the Vulcan Ambassador standing on its boarding ramp, hand raised. A sculpture of Zefrem Cochrane held a shotgun pointed at a the Vulcan. "Nathan Samuels," he said finally.

"The Minister of Alien Affairs? The one who spouts all that nonsense about giving non-Terrans more power in the Empire?"

"The very same." Blackwell looked at her. "Erika, you've served with non-Terrans. Your... particular tastes... aside, you certainly wouldn't have had so many in your crew on Cortez if you believed in the 'Terra Prime' propaganda that Paxton rode to the throne."

"Of course not. But, to give non-Terrans the kind of power Samuels suggests--"

"Oh, they won't be given that sort of power," Blackwell said with a smile. "Compromises will have to be made, and the non-Terrans will wind up with just enough power to make them feel that they're important--but not so much that they become a danger."

Hernandez smiled back. "You've planned this all out already, then."

"Of course." They were passing through the alien section now, between a Klingon D-5 cruiser and a Romulan Dragon-class warbird. "Paxton's policies of repression did nothing but drive more and more non-Terrans into armed rebellion. If it hadn't been for Archer and the Defiant, who knows how much damage that rebellion could have caused? We can't risk something like that again. Better to grant them the illusion of power, while in reality bringing them further under our control."

"You're as devious as ever," Hernandez said with a smile, as they passed between a Klingon Raptor and Bird-of-Prey.

"Why, thank you." Blackwell leaned back and studied the Andorian flagship Komari, while Hernandez noticed a new addition to the Museum, the Klingon scout ship K'Toch. Its crash landing on Earth six years before, in some ways, could be considered to be the catalyst that had led directly to this point. NX-01 had been launched early to return its pilot, Klaang, to Qo'Nos. Jonathan Archer, as the lead test pilot on the NX Project, had expected to be confirmed as Enterprise's Captain, but Starfleet Command had given the ship to Captain Forrest because of his greater experience. Forrest had taken Klaang back to Qo'Nos--and then executed him in front of the High Council. Archer had apparently never forgiven the perceived slight, and when the opportunity had come to seize command of Defiant, he'd been only too happy to take it.

There were, of course, better ways to secure one's power base. "And what's to become of me if I succeed in this mission?" Hernandez asked, leaning forward in her chair to remind the Admiral that her uniform top wasn't zipped to anywhere near regulation level.

"Well, you'll be the Captain of the most powerful ship in the known Galaxy. And, if that's not enough for you, I'm certain there will be some positions available in the Admiralty..."

"That sounds interesting." Hernandez stood up and unzipped her top completely, letting it fall to the floor. "Perhaps you'd like to... interview me for the position right now?"

* * * * *

The Copernicus Fleet Yards were located deep underneath Luna's surface. The shuttlepod's pilot maneuvered it expertly down through one of the small-craft access tunnels as Hernandez and Blackwell got dressed. "I've taken the liberty of selecting a crew for you," the Admiral was saying.

Hernandez frowned. "Without consulting me?"

"Erika, you've been out of it for two years--and, quite frankly, I don't have the time to get you back up to speed on Starfleet personnel." Just as always, Blackwell was back to his all-business professional persona within seconds. "I know you hate to not have your own people in your senior staff, but don't worry--there will be a few familiar faces there."

They were in one of the construction bays now, and the ship was visible through the starboard window. Hernandez watched in silence as the pod passed it from fore to aft, then returned to her seat for the docking procedure. She needn't have bothered, she realized--the pilot's landing was just as professional as the rest of the flight had been, and she only knew when they'd touched down when she heard the engines power down. "So," she asked, "who's my X.O.?"

Blackwell stood up. "Why don't I introduce you right now?" He opened the hatch to the pilot's compartment, and Ramirez stepped out, followed by a Vulcan woman that looked vaguely familiar. "Captain Erika Hernandez, meet Commander T'Pol."

[interested reader]

Any word on this? (No pun intended, but what the hell? ;D)

I don't read that much at all, much less ST fanfics, but the mirror universe always fascinated me. MORE ! ! !

[CaptainPierce]

Well, thanks. Yeah, there's more to come, and a little adding-on I need to do in Chapter 4, not to mention 2 and 3, but I haven't had a lot of time to work on it lately. Hopefully I can do something in the next couple of days, and more over the weekend...

[edit] Gah, thought I'd be bored at work this week, until my boss put me to work as the Junior IT Guy again... Ideas are percolating, including a couple of really freaky names for starships , just haven't had time to put pen to paper--or fingers to keyboard--yet... [/edit]

[CaptainPierce]

Chapter Five
1 August 2157

Hernandez managed to control herself until the three of them reached the briefing room, but as soon as the doors closed behind her guard and Blackwell's, she let loose. "Admiral, what the hell--"

"Stand down, Captain." Blackwell's voice was calm enough, but she knew him well enough to hear the threat underneath. Not even she was allowed to talk to him that way.

She took a moment to compose herself, then turned to the Vulcan woman. "Commander, would you mind giving the Admiral and I a few minutes alone?"

"I would prefer to stay, Captain." There was the hint of a smile on her face. "Since logic dictates that you wish to discuss me, you may ask me anything you would have asked the Admiral in my absence."

"All right, then. Is it, or is it not, true that you led a mutiny of non-Terrans against Commander Archer, with the intent of securing Defiant for the rebellion?"

"Ignoring for the moment the impossibility of committing mutiny against someone who is himself a mutineer... no, Captain. It is true that Captain Soval, Doctor Phlox, and I did attempt to seize control of Defiant, but I assure you that we had no intentions of turning it over to the rebellion. We simply did not wish to see Archer become Emperor."

"Well, now I've heard everything. Non-Terrans conspiring to keep Emperor Paxton in power." Hernandez laid the sarcasm on thick in her voice.

"I assure you, Captain, we had no particular love for Emperor Paxton. However, if the choice was between him and Jonathan Archer, Paxton was definitely the lesser of two evils."

(to be continued shortly)

[CaptainPierce]

Shortly, he said...

Anyway, I just found out that apparently IAMD author Mike Sussman is planning on writing a novel continuing the storyline, so I can't decide if I should A) finish this and show him how it should be done, or B) stop now so he can't rip me off.

Seriously, seeing this as the last post in this forum bugs me every time I come to this board. Same as all the incomplete crap on my hard drive bugs me. I've got to try and get some creativity jump-started over here somehow...