He Who Fights Monsters (Star Trek)
Posted: 2018-03-12 12:43am
Premise: What if the Federation encountered beings who not only made peaceful coexistence impossible, weren't merely antagonistic, but actually embodied everything the Federation considered to be well and truly evil? Worse still, what if the Federation- well, that might spoil too much.
This story is a sequel to Sins of the Fathers (viewtopic.php?f=9&t=164315), so reading that story first would be beneficial to understanding the setting and characters of this story.
--------------------------------------------------
Personal log, Commander Jonathan Spee:
I am settling in nicely among the Ascension. There was some initial awkwardness, but it's only been a week and I find them to be much more welcoming than I had anticipated. There is still more than a hint of derision toward me from the Augments about their being 'superior', but much of it seems to be good-natured ribbing rather than genuine bigotry. Which I suppose makes sense, given how much of the Ascension's population hasn't been genetically modified; if the Augments were openly contemptuous and high-handed toward their 'lessers', they wouldn't get much support from the other races that make up their union.
My deployment aboard the Ronin, an aging frigate, was delayed while they procured me a 'proper uniform'. Ascension regulations require all crew members to wear one of their body suits at all times, even off duty, and while on duty on the bridge I am to wear an armored suit. Each crew member has his own suit fitted to him personally, and it took roughly a day for them to take my measurements and make one for me. It's a standard crewman's suit, but they colored it to resemble my Starfleet uniform and altered the internal comm system to activate when I touch the commbadge painted onto it, rather than using the typical Ascension control scheme. I thought that was a nice touch.
I can certainly see why they require the suits. Once my initial familiarization training was complete, they threw me in the deep end with a battle drill. This included shutting off gravity and simulating a vacuum when the bridge was 'opened to space' by a direct hit from a Klingon disruptor, simulating injured and dead crew, and taking command of the ship after the captain was declared a casualty. I was told that I was quite competent at damage control and handled myself well during the stress of the simulation, but that Starfleet tactical training was 'entirely inadequate' for commanding the ship in combat. Considering my academy scores, I might disagree, but I did end up losing the ship and most of the crew by the end of the simulation. Their simulations are remarkably realistic, comparable to the holodeck in many ways, thanks to the 'augmented reality' displays in their helmets and haptic feedback from the suits. Had I been in a similar situation aboard a Federation starship, there's a better than even chance that I would have died when the bridge was hit, blown out into space, killed by shrapnel, or struggling to stay in my seat with the inertial dampers failing and losing gravity. Perhaps Starfleet needs to seriously review some of our safety protocols; the Ascension may be making up for less advanced inertial dampers, a lack of force fields to seal hull breaches, and a reliance on armor instead of shielding, but that doesn't mean we can't learn anything from them about safety.
As an example, their reactor room is guarded at all times, engine room personnel wear bright orange suits with reflective stripes and strobe lights to make them easy to find in an emergency, the entire room is blocked off with an armored door and enough radiation shielding to satisfy the most paranoid safety expert, and I couldn't even get into the room for a tour until I'd undergone an hour-long safety briefing and an escort. No wonder they were allegedly shocked when they toured main engineering on the Titan; compared to them, we're much more lax on security.
I've found that the crew are more accepting of me when I keep my helmet on, for some reason. They all wear their helmets at all times, except in their quarters and the mess hall, and even then they keep their helmets literally attached to their hips so they can be donned at a moment's notice. I was honestly surprised to discover that the tactical officer serving under me isn't an Augment, he's a Valakian. I wouldn't have known if he hadn't removed his helmet to eat lunch. I expected more open resentment, given the apparent history between our people, but he's a consumate professional and unfailingly polite. A bit stiff, so he may be harboring some sort of grudge, but it's hard to tell given how the rest of the crew behave. I get the feeling that they're trying not to see me as an outsider, much less the enemy, but they still don't accept me as one of them. Not yet.
I'm sure I'll find a way to endear myself to the crew somehow. I have to; the ambassadors at our new embassy may be the official Federation representatives to the Ascension, but let's face it: they don't interact with the 'little people'. I do, on a daily basis. It's important that I make a good impression and show that there can be a lasting peace, even friendship, between the Federation and the Ascension. They seem to be willing to give me the chance, and Starfleet thought I was the best choice for an exchange officer; let's just hope I can meet everyone's expectations.
Because if the Ascension and Federation ever do go to war again, I'm not so certain we'd win the next one.
End log.
----------------
Riker adjusted the collar of his uniform, trying not to glare. He could feel himself glaring, and it was irritating him. Deanna rested a hand comfortingly on his shoulder and whispered, "Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"It's only natural that you would be selected; you understand them possibly better than anyone else in Starfleet, after all."
"Oh, yes. I was a prisoner of war and a 'guest' among their people, after all; that makes me an expert on Federation-Ascension relations."
"Will."
"Deanna, they stole my ship and dismantled it. The Titan still isn't back in service, and it's been almost a year. They killed members of my crew. They may be 'reasonable' people, I may understand them better than others simply because I've interacted with them face to face and been given the grand tour of one of their cities in a bottle, but that doesn't mean I have to like them."
Deanna squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, then took his hand in her other and turned him to face her.
"And now the war is over. We're at peace. We have the opportunity to create mutual understanding and respect between our peoples, an opportunity for lasting peace. Who knows, maybe someday the Ascension will join the Federation."
"Not likely. Three human colonies just became their clients, and now they're trying to weasel their way into Turkana IV under the guise of humanitarian aid and acting as 'impartial arbitrators' between the different factions."
"None of those worlds were members of the Federation, and even if Turkana IV does enter the Ascension's sphere of influence, isn't it worthwhile if it finally brings peace to their world? An end to the constant war, the rape gangs, the poverty?"
"Perhaps, but I still don't like it."
"You respect, even admire, the Klingons, don't you? You even served aboard one of their ships, just as this exchange officer will be doing."
"Of course."
"But the Klingons have been at war with the Federation more than once, and we spent centuries being suspicious of one another even when we weren't at war. If you can learn to appreciate Klingon culture and points of view, it can't be that hard to appreciate Ascension culture and points of view."
"Maybe you're right. I'm acting foolish because I've got a chip on my shoulder," he said, turning back to face the entrance to the hangar bay. "I just wish our exchange officer didn't have some religious objection to using the transporter. We've been standing here for twenty minutes."
"The shuttle will be docking soon. Quit fretting."
"I'm not fretting."
"You're fretting."
Riker kept his mouth shut and let it go rather than potentially escalate into an actual argument with his wife. Two minutes later, an Ascension shuttle identical to the one he'd last seen on the Titan slid into the hangar. The ramp slammed down with the same force and speed he remembered, but the two soldiers in their powered armor walking down the ramp moved slowly and deliberately, and their rifles were slung over their shoulders. The hulking soldiers stopped at the end of the ramp and flanked it in a parade rest position, and several more figures exited the shuttle, three moving a small pallet of what appeared to be luggage over to a cargo sled that had been brought to the hangar for just such a purpose and offloading it there. Two more figures approached and the taller of the two saluted by striking his left shoulder with his right fist, then jutting his open palm out in a Roman salute. Riker returned the gesture, and then awkwardly returned a polite bow when the shorter of the two Ascendants in front of him actually curtsied. He assumed this one was female, but that wasn't a guarantee; the bodysuit and helmet hid any secondary sexual characteristics, and the various client races the Ascension consisted of may simply have different gestures of greeting.
"Permission to come aboard?" asked a flat, mechanical monotone.
"Permission granted. Welcome aboard the Galaxy, commander...?"
The taller figure, towering over even Riker by several centimeters, handed him a Ferengi PADD before opening his seals and removing his helmet. He was a handsome man with a carefully trimmed goatee several shades darker than his blonde hair, and flinty grey eyes; if Riker had to guess, he was in his early thirties. The left side of his face seemed to sag ever so slightly, and the eye on that side was twitching subtly, leading Riker to wonder if he'd suffered some sort of neurological damage in the past.
"Senior commander Devrim Stolansky, at your service. You will find my identification, service record, and a complete medical write up on the PADD. This," he said, turning to gesture at the figure whose head didn't even reach his shoulders, "is my valet, S'rahn Tjornah."
S'rahn removed her helmet, revealing herself to be a T'sari. Like the one he'd met previously, she had very delicate, almost elfin, facial features, chalky greyish-blue skin, silvery-white hair, and brilliant green eyes. She likewise presented a PADD toward him, but seemed much more shy about it, actually blushing a darker shade of blue and almost hiding behind Stolansky.
"I'm Captain William T Riker, this is my wife, Counselor Deanna Troi, chief engineer Robert Muldoon, senior science officer Soren Tkray, and my chief of security, Helga Godsdottir. My chief medical officer is currently treating a patient, so we'll meet him later. I wasn't aware you'd be bringing a valet, commander."
"I apologize for any lack of communication regarding our arrangements; I myself only found out I was going to have a valet when I boarded the shuttle. Apparently High Command felt it appropriate for an officer of my rank to have a valet, in order that I may focus more on my duties as executive officer and a representative of the Ascension and less on menial tasks. I trust this won't present any issues?"
"No, I don't think it'll be a problem, commander. Will you be wanting adjoining quarters?"
"Yes, please, if that's convenient. As I said, I don't mean to impose upon you, I wasn't expecting a valet either."
The tiny woman curtsied again, then reached into a messenger bag hanging from her shoulder.
"It is traditional for T'sari to present their hosts with gifts, to thank them for their hospitality. Please accept these with my humblest apologies for my unexpected intrusion."
"Not at all," Riker said, still smiling as non-threateningly as possible. The petite woman seemed on the verge of hyperventilating, and he tried to alleviate any anxiety she was feeling. Clearly she was stressed out over the situation, but he seemed to be missing some crucial information as to why.
"In T'sari culture, the man is the provider and defender of the family. All married T'sari men carry a wtsai, a ceremonial knife, to signify their status. "
She withdrew a large dagger from the bag and presented it to him hilt first, trembling slightly as she did so. He took it from her, smiling broadly, but she was keeping her eyes focused on the deck.
"Thank you."
Stolansky leaned forward and quietly said, "Make a show of inspecting the blade. Very important in T'sari culture."
Riker drew the dagger and saw that it was double-edged, with a damascus pattern on the blade and a bright blue finish. It was surprisingly attractive, and given the look of it, razor sharp.
"Very nice. I've seldom held a blade as well crafted as this."
S'rahn smiled for the first time, blushing shyly again, and reached into the messenger bag again, this time meeting Deanna's eyes as she presented her next gift.
"In T'sari culture, the woman is the caretaker of the family. One of her duties is to keep the fire going so that the family has food and warmth. This is a traditional T'sari firestarter."
She held out a device, made of wood, black steel, and polished bronze, and Deanna accepted it with a warm smile and a slight curtsy of her own.
"Thank you, it's beautiful. How does it work?"
"Insert the key hanging from the lanyard here, and wind up the mechanism. Hold it above your tinder and pull the trigger; the wheel will strike against the pyrite and shoot a spray of sparks. It may take several attempts, but it is very effective."
"It's lovely, thank you."
The woman- or possibly girl, Riker was starting to wonder- smiled again, and swayed slightly as her skin took on a paler grey pallor. Stolansky leaned down and gently whispered, "Put your helmet on before you pass out."
Straightening again, he looked apologetically at Riker and asked, "I'm given understand from my briefing that one can adjust the environmental settings in individual rooms aboard your ships?"
"Yes."
"Would it be possible then to adjust the settings in our quarters for a higher oxygen content? I'm afraid the air humans find normal is a bit thin for T'sari; less lung capacity and less efficient oxygen transport in their blood."
"Of course."
"Why don't I escort your valet and your luggage to your quarters and help you get settled in, while the captain gives you the official tour?"
"Thank you, counselor; that would be much appreciated."
Riker wasn't entirely certain what Deanna was up to, but she'd made it clear through unspoken signals to him that it was important and he deferred to her judgement.
"Well then, commander, if you'll follow me?"
This story is a sequel to Sins of the Fathers (viewtopic.php?f=9&t=164315), so reading that story first would be beneficial to understanding the setting and characters of this story.
--------------------------------------------------
Personal log, Commander Jonathan Spee:
I am settling in nicely among the Ascension. There was some initial awkwardness, but it's only been a week and I find them to be much more welcoming than I had anticipated. There is still more than a hint of derision toward me from the Augments about their being 'superior', but much of it seems to be good-natured ribbing rather than genuine bigotry. Which I suppose makes sense, given how much of the Ascension's population hasn't been genetically modified; if the Augments were openly contemptuous and high-handed toward their 'lessers', they wouldn't get much support from the other races that make up their union.
My deployment aboard the Ronin, an aging frigate, was delayed while they procured me a 'proper uniform'. Ascension regulations require all crew members to wear one of their body suits at all times, even off duty, and while on duty on the bridge I am to wear an armored suit. Each crew member has his own suit fitted to him personally, and it took roughly a day for them to take my measurements and make one for me. It's a standard crewman's suit, but they colored it to resemble my Starfleet uniform and altered the internal comm system to activate when I touch the commbadge painted onto it, rather than using the typical Ascension control scheme. I thought that was a nice touch.
I can certainly see why they require the suits. Once my initial familiarization training was complete, they threw me in the deep end with a battle drill. This included shutting off gravity and simulating a vacuum when the bridge was 'opened to space' by a direct hit from a Klingon disruptor, simulating injured and dead crew, and taking command of the ship after the captain was declared a casualty. I was told that I was quite competent at damage control and handled myself well during the stress of the simulation, but that Starfleet tactical training was 'entirely inadequate' for commanding the ship in combat. Considering my academy scores, I might disagree, but I did end up losing the ship and most of the crew by the end of the simulation. Their simulations are remarkably realistic, comparable to the holodeck in many ways, thanks to the 'augmented reality' displays in their helmets and haptic feedback from the suits. Had I been in a similar situation aboard a Federation starship, there's a better than even chance that I would have died when the bridge was hit, blown out into space, killed by shrapnel, or struggling to stay in my seat with the inertial dampers failing and losing gravity. Perhaps Starfleet needs to seriously review some of our safety protocols; the Ascension may be making up for less advanced inertial dampers, a lack of force fields to seal hull breaches, and a reliance on armor instead of shielding, but that doesn't mean we can't learn anything from them about safety.
As an example, their reactor room is guarded at all times, engine room personnel wear bright orange suits with reflective stripes and strobe lights to make them easy to find in an emergency, the entire room is blocked off with an armored door and enough radiation shielding to satisfy the most paranoid safety expert, and I couldn't even get into the room for a tour until I'd undergone an hour-long safety briefing and an escort. No wonder they were allegedly shocked when they toured main engineering on the Titan; compared to them, we're much more lax on security.
I've found that the crew are more accepting of me when I keep my helmet on, for some reason. They all wear their helmets at all times, except in their quarters and the mess hall, and even then they keep their helmets literally attached to their hips so they can be donned at a moment's notice. I was honestly surprised to discover that the tactical officer serving under me isn't an Augment, he's a Valakian. I wouldn't have known if he hadn't removed his helmet to eat lunch. I expected more open resentment, given the apparent history between our people, but he's a consumate professional and unfailingly polite. A bit stiff, so he may be harboring some sort of grudge, but it's hard to tell given how the rest of the crew behave. I get the feeling that they're trying not to see me as an outsider, much less the enemy, but they still don't accept me as one of them. Not yet.
I'm sure I'll find a way to endear myself to the crew somehow. I have to; the ambassadors at our new embassy may be the official Federation representatives to the Ascension, but let's face it: they don't interact with the 'little people'. I do, on a daily basis. It's important that I make a good impression and show that there can be a lasting peace, even friendship, between the Federation and the Ascension. They seem to be willing to give me the chance, and Starfleet thought I was the best choice for an exchange officer; let's just hope I can meet everyone's expectations.
Because if the Ascension and Federation ever do go to war again, I'm not so certain we'd win the next one.
End log.
----------------
Riker adjusted the collar of his uniform, trying not to glare. He could feel himself glaring, and it was irritating him. Deanna rested a hand comfortingly on his shoulder and whispered, "Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"It's only natural that you would be selected; you understand them possibly better than anyone else in Starfleet, after all."
"Oh, yes. I was a prisoner of war and a 'guest' among their people, after all; that makes me an expert on Federation-Ascension relations."
"Will."
"Deanna, they stole my ship and dismantled it. The Titan still isn't back in service, and it's been almost a year. They killed members of my crew. They may be 'reasonable' people, I may understand them better than others simply because I've interacted with them face to face and been given the grand tour of one of their cities in a bottle, but that doesn't mean I have to like them."
Deanna squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, then took his hand in her other and turned him to face her.
"And now the war is over. We're at peace. We have the opportunity to create mutual understanding and respect between our peoples, an opportunity for lasting peace. Who knows, maybe someday the Ascension will join the Federation."
"Not likely. Three human colonies just became their clients, and now they're trying to weasel their way into Turkana IV under the guise of humanitarian aid and acting as 'impartial arbitrators' between the different factions."
"None of those worlds were members of the Federation, and even if Turkana IV does enter the Ascension's sphere of influence, isn't it worthwhile if it finally brings peace to their world? An end to the constant war, the rape gangs, the poverty?"
"Perhaps, but I still don't like it."
"You respect, even admire, the Klingons, don't you? You even served aboard one of their ships, just as this exchange officer will be doing."
"Of course."
"But the Klingons have been at war with the Federation more than once, and we spent centuries being suspicious of one another even when we weren't at war. If you can learn to appreciate Klingon culture and points of view, it can't be that hard to appreciate Ascension culture and points of view."
"Maybe you're right. I'm acting foolish because I've got a chip on my shoulder," he said, turning back to face the entrance to the hangar bay. "I just wish our exchange officer didn't have some religious objection to using the transporter. We've been standing here for twenty minutes."
"The shuttle will be docking soon. Quit fretting."
"I'm not fretting."
"You're fretting."
Riker kept his mouth shut and let it go rather than potentially escalate into an actual argument with his wife. Two minutes later, an Ascension shuttle identical to the one he'd last seen on the Titan slid into the hangar. The ramp slammed down with the same force and speed he remembered, but the two soldiers in their powered armor walking down the ramp moved slowly and deliberately, and their rifles were slung over their shoulders. The hulking soldiers stopped at the end of the ramp and flanked it in a parade rest position, and several more figures exited the shuttle, three moving a small pallet of what appeared to be luggage over to a cargo sled that had been brought to the hangar for just such a purpose and offloading it there. Two more figures approached and the taller of the two saluted by striking his left shoulder with his right fist, then jutting his open palm out in a Roman salute. Riker returned the gesture, and then awkwardly returned a polite bow when the shorter of the two Ascendants in front of him actually curtsied. He assumed this one was female, but that wasn't a guarantee; the bodysuit and helmet hid any secondary sexual characteristics, and the various client races the Ascension consisted of may simply have different gestures of greeting.
"Permission to come aboard?" asked a flat, mechanical monotone.
"Permission granted. Welcome aboard the Galaxy, commander...?"
The taller figure, towering over even Riker by several centimeters, handed him a Ferengi PADD before opening his seals and removing his helmet. He was a handsome man with a carefully trimmed goatee several shades darker than his blonde hair, and flinty grey eyes; if Riker had to guess, he was in his early thirties. The left side of his face seemed to sag ever so slightly, and the eye on that side was twitching subtly, leading Riker to wonder if he'd suffered some sort of neurological damage in the past.
"Senior commander Devrim Stolansky, at your service. You will find my identification, service record, and a complete medical write up on the PADD. This," he said, turning to gesture at the figure whose head didn't even reach his shoulders, "is my valet, S'rahn Tjornah."
S'rahn removed her helmet, revealing herself to be a T'sari. Like the one he'd met previously, she had very delicate, almost elfin, facial features, chalky greyish-blue skin, silvery-white hair, and brilliant green eyes. She likewise presented a PADD toward him, but seemed much more shy about it, actually blushing a darker shade of blue and almost hiding behind Stolansky.
"I'm Captain William T Riker, this is my wife, Counselor Deanna Troi, chief engineer Robert Muldoon, senior science officer Soren Tkray, and my chief of security, Helga Godsdottir. My chief medical officer is currently treating a patient, so we'll meet him later. I wasn't aware you'd be bringing a valet, commander."
"I apologize for any lack of communication regarding our arrangements; I myself only found out I was going to have a valet when I boarded the shuttle. Apparently High Command felt it appropriate for an officer of my rank to have a valet, in order that I may focus more on my duties as executive officer and a representative of the Ascension and less on menial tasks. I trust this won't present any issues?"
"No, I don't think it'll be a problem, commander. Will you be wanting adjoining quarters?"
"Yes, please, if that's convenient. As I said, I don't mean to impose upon you, I wasn't expecting a valet either."
The tiny woman curtsied again, then reached into a messenger bag hanging from her shoulder.
"It is traditional for T'sari to present their hosts with gifts, to thank them for their hospitality. Please accept these with my humblest apologies for my unexpected intrusion."
"Not at all," Riker said, still smiling as non-threateningly as possible. The petite woman seemed on the verge of hyperventilating, and he tried to alleviate any anxiety she was feeling. Clearly she was stressed out over the situation, but he seemed to be missing some crucial information as to why.
"In T'sari culture, the man is the provider and defender of the family. All married T'sari men carry a wtsai, a ceremonial knife, to signify their status. "
She withdrew a large dagger from the bag and presented it to him hilt first, trembling slightly as she did so. He took it from her, smiling broadly, but she was keeping her eyes focused on the deck.
"Thank you."
Stolansky leaned forward and quietly said, "Make a show of inspecting the blade. Very important in T'sari culture."
Riker drew the dagger and saw that it was double-edged, with a damascus pattern on the blade and a bright blue finish. It was surprisingly attractive, and given the look of it, razor sharp.
"Very nice. I've seldom held a blade as well crafted as this."
S'rahn smiled for the first time, blushing shyly again, and reached into the messenger bag again, this time meeting Deanna's eyes as she presented her next gift.
"In T'sari culture, the woman is the caretaker of the family. One of her duties is to keep the fire going so that the family has food and warmth. This is a traditional T'sari firestarter."
She held out a device, made of wood, black steel, and polished bronze, and Deanna accepted it with a warm smile and a slight curtsy of her own.
"Thank you, it's beautiful. How does it work?"
"Insert the key hanging from the lanyard here, and wind up the mechanism. Hold it above your tinder and pull the trigger; the wheel will strike against the pyrite and shoot a spray of sparks. It may take several attempts, but it is very effective."
"It's lovely, thank you."
The woman- or possibly girl, Riker was starting to wonder- smiled again, and swayed slightly as her skin took on a paler grey pallor. Stolansky leaned down and gently whispered, "Put your helmet on before you pass out."
Straightening again, he looked apologetically at Riker and asked, "I'm given understand from my briefing that one can adjust the environmental settings in individual rooms aboard your ships?"
"Yes."
"Would it be possible then to adjust the settings in our quarters for a higher oxygen content? I'm afraid the air humans find normal is a bit thin for T'sari; less lung capacity and less efficient oxygen transport in their blood."
"Of course."
"Why don't I escort your valet and your luggage to your quarters and help you get settled in, while the captain gives you the official tour?"
"Thank you, counselor; that would be much appreciated."
Riker wasn't entirely certain what Deanna was up to, but she'd made it clear through unspoken signals to him that it was important and he deferred to her judgement.
"Well then, commander, if you'll follow me?"
