Form and Emptiness By David Sands Edited by Amy Szczepanski and James Mirabello Concept Design by David Highlander "Six months of dry dock... damn everything... we've missed so much" "Charlemagne, ease down a minute. You took that vacation in Hawaii you've wanted to take for so long, you saw your wife, visited both your parents... what more do you want?" "I want to be in the field, not on vacation. I love my wife, but I'm ready for her to start taking care of the house again and for me to earn my living. Besides, she's getting sick of my griping." Charlemagne looked over the grounds of Reading, England, in the distance. Normally, Charlemagne would love being here in the British Isles. He, like Greer, was both an Anglophile and a Virginian. They both found a solace in their origins across the cold Atlantic. Anxiously awaiting this appointment, Charlemagne paced Admiral Greer's home. When he came here to Britain, he felt an excitement like before a horse race when one has a good sum of money bet on. He always looked at that like a sin. He hated war, but loved its excitement and the fact that he knew in his heart that there wasn't anyone outside Special Operations that could take him or his crew. If his life in SO was a sin, then these briefings he looked forward to were a confession to his priest. They made him realize that what he did was serious and that it could get him or anyone around him killed. "What the hell is he doing in there?" "Relax, Chuck, he'll be with us soon." Seneca, on the other hand, was cool, collected, and calm. He was yin to Charlemagne's yang. Whereas Charlemagne was blunt in his speech, Seneca was precise, meticulous, and careful, making him an excellent communications specialist and linguist. Like his Roman namesake he was able to get the point across in simple, non-assumptive terms. Charlemagne pulled every string to get him assigned as his first officer. They were paired up the first day at Special Operations basic training. Out of respect for saving his life when others refused to try, Seneca named Sands Charlemagne for strength of character like the Frankish king. Charlemagne named Matt Seneca after his style of asserting himself to the drill instructor; he got quite a bit of respect for standing up to him, but then got a tongue lashing and three broken ribs from the master chief. Their strength lay in working on complementary projects in support of each other's positions. It was a quality and a bond that had saved both them and their crew many times before. The door opened to an aging man of about fifty in a butler's tuxedo. Despite all the carpeting and wood around them, his crisp upper-class English projected into their ears like they were in a concert hall. "Vice Admiral Greer will see you now." Captain David "Charlemagne" Sands and Commander Matthew "Seneca" Schneider walked into a wood paneled Tudor library. Sitting in a lion skin chair his ancestor crafted from a safari's kill in Africa six centuries ago, the Admiral's eighty year old body looked like age could not touch it in such a timeless environment. Along the wall were thousands of books of every subject. Most of them he had read at some point in his life. More amazing was that he still remembered the basic theme or subject of each. Greer matched the room as a repository of wisdom and culture. His depth of acumen along with the antique literature and aroma of fine Indian tea opened one's sinuses and one's mind. "Admiral Greer, so good to see you again." "Good morning. Sit down and get comfortable. Sorry to keep you two waiting but I had a teleconference with the Secretary of Defense." As the two officers sat down, the butler walked across the lush oriental carpet to a small liquor cabinet. "If I recall correctly, amaretto sours, Charlemagne?" "Thank you, Mr. Dunn." "And for you, Seneca?" "Thanks, I'll take a gin and tonic." Greer's butler handed the drinks to them, and closed the tall double doors to the parlor as he gracefully bowed out of the room. "How's your wife doing, David?" "We saw her parents a week ago, after getting back from hunting for some angel fish in the Pacific. Then we went to Ascension Island for three days on leave to look for a Centropyge resplendens." "That must be some aquarium you have going. And what have you been doing with your down time, Matt?" "Catching up on some new articles about existentialism. Went to India to meditate and climb K2. I got to see my former students from several years ago and discuss their upcoming dissertations. They're all nervous as hell." "I hate exam time too." Greer straightened his blanket and picked up a PADD from his small mahogany table. Charlemagne couldn't help but think this place looked like a throne room for a scholar. And Greer looked like an enlightened despot in it. Charlemagne didn't think of that in a negative way at all. This man had almost singlehandedly built Starfleet Special Operations into the force it was today. Greer himself had been one of the first three plank owners; he'd been captured by Cardassians, faced rogue Ferengi pirates in hostage takeovers, and been tortured in the last Gorn incursion 20 years ago. Who wouldn't look or act like a godfather after all he had gone through and done for the Federation? "Unfortunately, quality time for yourselves is over as of 1500 tomorrow. Your own exams have finally come down from the President. The Apocalypse was certified deep- space worthy early this morning. I know both of you have been itching to get out there on a mission." "Charlemagne and I were hoping to be assigned a mission soon, Admiral." "I know. After this Talon Project affair I wanted you two to have some cool-off time, not to mention the rest of your crew. I met with the President a week ago and discussed the military ramifications of the Romulans finding out we have four cloak-capable ships. To put it lightly he is extremely worried and angry we might have a war brewing on our hands in the next few years, and that's after war with the Dominion. All that needs to happen is for this to get out. The Cabinet doesn't think it will start a war; neither do I nor Starfleet Command. But if we don't start mending fences with the Romulans it might be enough to start a downward spiral. Right now we might be making some progress in getting them to see that the Dominion poses a threat to them as well. However, we can't let up: we now have bigger problems concerning the Romulans than just that. So big, in fact, he's putting the Apocalypse back on the Romulan front line again. "One of the President's first acts upon entering office was to assemble a commission to investigate the Romulan threat after their decades-long isolation from the rest of the galaxy. After several thousand man hours of work by a cross-disciplined staff, it has been concluded that the Romulan Empire is on the verge of collapse; not just politically, but a societal breakdown. In short, the Tal Shiar and the decades of military control have put the Romulan Star Empire in the same position the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics was four centuries ago and several hundred miles from where we sit." Charlemagne thought to himself that he had heard a lot of this from his last mission's briefing. He didn't want to take the wind out of Greer's sails though; Greer had a knack for giving fresh original opinions when allowed to talk enough. Charlemagne gazed out the window into overcast skies and thought to himself. That particular empire's collapse indirectly led the planet to another world war, nearly destroying humanity. We were lucky the Vulcans came when they did. "As you know Charlemagne, that would be highly undesirable. And when I say we don't want that, we mean we don't want them spilling their conflicts over into the Federation or the Klingon Empire; or worse still all the ethnic conflicts that may have been subdued by centuries of Imperial control. We want to let the steam out of the kettle nice and slow over as long a time as we can manage." "What would you like us to do, Admiral?" "One of the barriers to dousing this powder keg with a bucket of water is the Tal Shiar. They won't buy into a freer Empire and probably never will. They'll start a war before giving up. We've been hearing from our operatives' reports that they're going to try for a comeback soon in some manner. The ship your crew was assigned to infiltrate six months ago was only a small part of the puzzle. The one thing we need to know is when all this is going to happen. That's why I called you all up. I figure we might be able to nip this problem in the bud with some good reconnaissance-in- force. I don't like taking chances when I don't have to. Special Operations is not paid for its methods, but results, whether they're seen on the battlefield by the journalists or in retrospect by historians." "Thou shalt never assume, Admiral." "Damn right! I'm not about to assume I'll get a nice embossed invitation from some subcommander stating, ?we'd like to humbly invite you to the war we're about to start.' Tal Shiar have a knack for big entrances. As many problems as they have they'll go for the throat from the start. I convinced the President to let us do some surveying in areas of suspicion. We've been getting some random, but consistent, intelligence that someone has been planning something big on the frontier near the Neutral Zone. The Tal Shiar know many hard-line Imperialists support their existence, and if the opportunity presents itself, would openly support its reestablishment. But the regular military establishment has subdued their influence after their little stint with the Obsidian Order. They feel that it's both a political and military threat to their own positions and to their now- strengthened control of Romulan society. Frankly, the Federation doesn't really care what they think of themselves, but we do care about the Tal Shiar launching a biological weapon at Vulcan or putting a trilithium device into Sol. Three days ago, in a meeting with the Cabinet, the President proclaimed that the possibility of a Tal Shiar incursion represents a clear and present danger to the security of the United Federation of Planets. "Your mission is as such: infiltrate the Neutral Zone and investigate these uninhabitable systems inside. Scan them, document what you see, and tell us if anything's up after reentering Federation space." Greer handed Seneca a PADD with what Starfleet Intelligence labeled as the most likely locations of subsurface bases. "What if we find something?" Sands asked. "The President says do nothing; get back here and we'll let our contacts in Romulan intelligence circles know something's going on. Starfleet Intelligence has tried to assure me that they can handle whatever you find. Their assessment is that we can rely on several highly progressive elements in the Romulan Intelligence Agency." "What if we find something we have to act on there?" "Ah, I knew you would ask that, Charlemagne. Frankly I think you may have to. I don't trust the Romulans to clean up their act. Improvise. Use force if you deem it necessary. However, if you choose to do so, given the nature of intragalactic relations right now, I must again inform you that in the event of your death or capture, the President and Starfleet must deny any and all knowledge of your affiliation and existence." Seneca replied, "Our existence? This would be a good subject to broach in my next existentialist discussions with my friends back at the university." "You'll have time to think about it all you want on this mission," Greer replied. "There will be no contact with Starfleet Command or any Federation starships until you have crossed over to sector 027 on any egress to inform us of any threats. You know there are listening posts all around the Neutral Zone that will pick up anything above a whisper in there. Otherwise, you're on your own." "Yes, sir!" "Alright, then, I think you both know how important this is. You are one of my finest crews. That's why I picked you for this mission. You will not fail, that's an order." Greer let his statement hang in the air for a second and gave the terse command: "Dismissed!" Shuttlepod 11806 moved silently along in the dry dock at Utopia Planitia from the internal shuttlebay at Keel Pod 6. Lieutenant Laup Hwl, a Zakdorn, piloted to the second Prevaricate Class ship, the USS Apocalypse, NCC-83096. "I missed this ship more than I missed my own home." "We all did," replied Charlemagne. Hwl maneuvered to the hatch on the underside of the ship. He activated the atmospheric collar and opened the upper hatch of the shuttlepod. All six crewmen climbed topside on deck. Caesar gave the command to the Utopia remote shuttlepod piloting station and closed the hatch. "One thing I hate about this ship: no graceful entries," Hwl commented. Charlemagne replied, "Do you want to pilot a nice luxurious freighter? Lots of entry space!" "What would I do on board a merchant marine? It's like trying to steer a sled down a sandpapered hill, and as glamorous as the guy who follows the horses in parades. Besides, I can lose enough weight in sweat to maintain my figure just by watching the trouble you all get yourselves into!" Seneca interrupted, "Speaking of difficult situations, our briefing on our current one is in ten minutes, so pack in people." "Couldn't have said it better myself! Seneca, have everyone ready for briefing at 1600." The Apocalypse was ferried by the USS Venture to the edge of the neutral zone. It would conduct its own very loud, very active sensor sweeps to help divert attention away from the Apocalypse. The team assembled solemnly around the strategic holographic display on the bridge. Everyone there could feel the tension. Though the environmental controls kept the bridge at a comfortable 70 degrees, the atmosphere there was like standing in 100% humidity on a hot summer day. Charlemagne began his briefing. At the pilot's console sat Hwl, the finest pilot to come out of SO school yet. A Zakdorn, he excelled at strategy and was also the best dogfighting tactician in all of Special Operations. Charlemagne had frequently deferred to his judgement in tight spots saying, "I don't care, guy! Make it work!" A computer specialist originally, he accidentally came to special operations when his last CO did not push the special research button on the LCARS PADD. One nice thing about the LCARS system is that it could predict probable directions of thought based on what buttons you were pushing. Unfortunately, it did not make the right prediction that time. By the time his CO realized his mistake, Lt. Hwl had been in SO school a week (afterwards, Captain Jones seriously started considering a paper filing system). He loved to hear the sound of his voice, but beneath an exterior of bravado and comeliness attractive to many Zakdorns and Humans alike, there was an intellectual undercurrent matching that of a chess grandmaster. To Charlemagne's right sat his first officer, Seneca, at communications. His background was somewhat unusual. He was a professor of philosophy at a university until the Borg destroyed his world ninety years ago. Half Elorian, he loved to listen to others' ideas, always offering insight to them and guiding those in his charge in the right direction. Perhaps that was why he originally enlisted as a communications officer. But over time he simply wanted to contribute more to the Federation using some of his neglected skills, and so he joined Special Operations. As he had said before, "Hey, refined listening's great! But I didn't get training in phaser use for nothing!" At ops was seated Lieutenant Eric Holliman. He was an adventurer at heart, an action junkie. Inspired by the stories of 20th century special operations, Lieutenant Holliman came into Starfleet looking for excitement and adventure. He had the personality of the U.S. Third Army's General George S. Patton. Always on the offensive, never letting up. Like the General, he too disdained cowardly behavior, some would say recklessly heading into fire to show how much braver he was than anyone else. But Charlemagne chose him seeing him as a possible future head of Special Operations. He wanted him trained right and in a branch that would make full use of his abilities, not under the sometimes petty managerial style of some regular Starfleet captains. At tactical sat the second Klingon to go through Starfleet Academy, Lieutenant Robert "Tacitus" Samud. Samud earned his call sign before coming to the Apocalypse. He was characterized as brooding, angry, and critical like the Roman historian. Desiring to learn both sides of the new alliance, he joined Starfleet. His favorite topic was comparative histories of the Klingon Empire and medieval Japan. He was an expert in weapons from both races. But more than history, Tacitus loved republics, and joined Starfleet instead of the Klingon Defense Force to defend what he came to believe in his heart to be an honorable government worthy of defending. Chief Petty Officer Sarum, called "Cicero" for his cutting logic reminiscent of the Roman orator's, came to special operations from the Andorian Military Academy to hone his skills as an engineer under what he called "stress-inducing environments" so that he may "enhance critical mentation processes." He was also fascinated by the paradigms of opposites. He had engaged much of his time and postgraduate research at Starfleet Academy to demolitions. He always claimed that by understanding how to both destroy and build an object, one may better understand its nature. Charlemagne agreed, though he always believed Cicero got a kick out of seeing a good explosion. He sat at the engineering station to the back and right of Charlemagne's command seat. Charlemagne began his briefing by telling the crew everything Admiral Greer told him and Seneca. Too often he had seen many COs withhold information that could create consternation among the crew which in turn could undermine a mission. In that sense MacDermott on the Missouri really had his act together. He knew that there was a fine line between operator intelligence and mission security. One of the things he loved about Special Operations was that he could err on the side of intelligence and be confident of its security, not only because there were fewer people with knowledge, but also because he knew in his heart that anything would have to be ripped out of them; and though he hated to admit it, they would die before being captured. Charlemagne tried not to think about death and keep his mind on the job. He just tried to keep them out of situations like that in the first place. "I want a strictly passive sensor sweep of these two systems first. Check for magnetic anomalies possibly created by large power generators that could create flux in a planet's gravitational field. Laup, I want you take us past the planets of Nartera Major first so we can get a sensor sweep for any plasma signatures from impulse engines of Romulan ships. Try to stay out of range of a standard orbiting ship's weapons if possible. If you can't find anything, make some quick approaches and retreats to and from the planet. Otherwise move on to Nartera Minor and let's keep surveying. We have a good number of systems to reconnoiter so make these as quick as possible, but don't crimp on thoroughness if you suspect anything. "Cicero, keep us in silent running; as little plasma leakage as possible. Keep Laup aware of the level of possible emission detection. If you finish with a planet and you're ready to move on, get into a planet's gravitational field before going into warp. We can't be sure there won't be a Romulan ship coming by that might pick up unscheduled activity and get suspicious. Stealth is the word, gentlemen; no neon billboards out here made by our warp field. Thou shalt not assume anything. "Seneca, keep an eye out for any possible scrambled messages. Make sure to look for any squeaks on empty static channels that might be non-verbal codes. We don't have to know what it says, just where it comes from. Remember we're looking in breadth right now, not depth. "Tacitus, Eric, I want you both rested in reserve for any possible away missions. Take some time in your holoclosets if you want. Have all mission equipment available for action within a two minute notification. Make sure to have some Romulan uniforms ready too. "Everyone make sure to keep up with your phaser marksmanship. I want everyone to practice close quarters battle at least two hours a day while we're out here. Anywhere we go is going to be subsurface, cramped, and compartmentalized. The last thing I need is for one of us to get shot in the back because we're rusty on how to clear a room. "While you all handle these I'll be in sickbay readying our new Mk II EMHs for possible Romulan cosmetic alteration. If anyone needs me after that I'll be getting some shuteye." Charlemagne woke up to Cicero's voice calling him on from the bridge. "Bridge to Captain Sands." "Sands here. What's up?" "We've found a faint plasma stream that may have come from a ship within the past four hours. It's quite dispersed, but most likely artificial." "Can you isolate possible points of origin or destination?" "Negative, Charlemagne." "Options, Seneca?" "We're near a asteroid belt in the Nolor system. I suggest we camp out and wait a few days to see if anything comes up." "Agreed, Seneca. Put us on an asteroid along the belt's outer rim and keep me informed." "You got it, Chuck." Charlemagne went back to reading the Chinese warrior, Du Mu, and his commentary on Sun Tzu's The Art of War till he had reviewed again the use and conservation of force, something he didn't have very much of out here. It would be nice to have more, but he then thought of King Henry's response to the Earl of Westmoreland: "If we are marked to die, we are enow to do our country loss; and if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honor..." It was missions like these where he loved impossible odds... Charlemagne entered the bridge just as the proximity beacon went off. "What's going on?" "Looks like we found a ship. I set the proximity alarm to warn us if there's a sudden increase in stellar plasma within the belt. We've got a cloaked ship off our port bow at heading 025, mark 55, range 5000 km." "OK, let's follow it. It's our first sign of activity in five days." "Aye, Charlemagne." The docking latches keeping the Apocalypse anchored on the asteroid released and the ship slowly floated away. Hwl turned the ship around and set course for Nolor VI. "Keep your distance, Lt. Hwl; no need to rush. He's not going anywhere fast." They followed the ship to standard orbit and watched it decloak. "You're getting all this recorded, right?" Holliman gave him a thumbs up from ops. "Looks like we have a treaty violation here." "Are they beaming down anything?" "Chuck, I just picked up a scrambled message. We don't have the codes, but point of origin's definitely from that ship." Tacitus then interjected. "Sir, I've got a confirmed energy beam going subsurface! Looks like they've beamed down." "Alright! We've got something. Lts. Holliman and Samud, we're going down there. Begin a pre-beam down survey of tactically superior vantage points down there. We go down in five minutes. Seneca, you have the bridge." Sands, Holliman, and Samud beamed down into a cavern about 30 meters high and among several large containers in a storage area. It was damp, murky, and they could taste the recently drilled stonework in their mouth. In the distance they could hear the forceful white noise of running water. Their cloaks activated, Charlemagne motioned to them to start moving toward the light at one end with Holliman on point. He slowly moved forward with tricorder sensor array on the end of his phaser rifle searching for any sensors that might give them away. All of a sudden Holliman put his fist up to freeze. He put his rifle down and looked at a slight bulge in the ground. He motioned, "Mine." Laup thought to himself as he disarmed the pressure sensitive pad that there was still no substitute for human intuition. The mine no longer a threat, they moved on, finding nothing in their path, though several other bulges around some of the containers. Holliman marked on the ground with his finger several small circles marking a path cleared. When they got to the end of the cavern, he motioned them forward and pointed downward. They were in a huge network of artificial caves. Their particular cave was elevated from the habitation level along a tall cylindrical cut-away. At the bottom was a torrential underground river. Upstream he could see the Romulans had set up a dam for hydroelectric power. "Smart," he thought. No detection light years away because of a nice big fusion reactor. We were lucky we found that plasma stream when we did, he reflected. They climbed down and started hugging the wall of the habitat corridors, seeing not only Tal Shiar, but some former members of the Obsidian Order. Charlemagne looked at Tacitus and thought, "Not dead yet!" A door opened up and they snuck past into a planning room filled with very high ranking officers, both Tal Shiar and Obsidian Order. One Romulan in civilian clothing, however, was there as well. He had just begun his briefing. "As you can see, Gul Lapar, these new trilithium weapons we've requisitioned might just be enough to give us the war we've been looking for." "Both Cardassians and Romulans have an interest in seeing the demise of the Federation. But how do you plan to get these past Federation Quarantine?" "Simple. My colleagues in the diplomatic core will smuggle them under the guise of ?Diplomatic Material.' We manufactured these holoemitters based on the Federations classified motile holoemmission project. These will project a false image of files and personal items around the missiles the Federation will not dare inspect. Their abidance to interstellar law and procedure will be their downfall. During preliminary negotiations on Vulcan we will do a ground launch of our one cloaked torpedo. When on Earth for trade negotiations in three days our agents will take a ?recreational excursion' to Sol." Charlemagne thought to himself that civilian looked quite familiar. But he had other things on his mind, like what the hell was he supposed to do? He motioned to Livy and Tacitus to get going outside as soon as the door opened. When they finally got out after several tense minutes, they walked behind a forklift and beamed back to the Apocalypse. "Three days! Three days and we would've lost Earth and Vulcan! I don't care how Starfleet Intelligence missed this. I don't care how good those Romulan contacts are that can take out this operation. I'm not in an exceptionally trusting mood right now. We're going to do this ourselves the right way! Options!" Charlemagne was yelling at the top of his lungs at this point. The rest of the team was not in a mood of joy at finding this either. They felt like they were picking up the slack for others who should have been doing their job better. Seneca spoke up first. "Simple. We have to get those torpedoes out of there, and blow up the base. All we need is a good distraction to beam them up." "I'd be willing to bet hard cash there's probably a force field around them. Probably one that conforms to the ceiling and floor of the cavern they're in." said Tacitus. "Force fields? Monuments to the stupidity of men; we can get through. Just cut the power." replied Holliman Charlemagne responded, "Agreed. We cut their power by blowing up the dam. They may have batteries as backup, but if we send a power surge through their electrical network first, it should overload them. Cicero, make a surge inducer. Tacitus, Cicero, you will be with Seneca and take out the dam. Eric, you and I will find the torpedoes and beam up with them. We will also carry a matter/antimatter bomb to take out the base from that room. Let's make the Romulans think they lost the trilithium if at all possible. The best defense for these things is make people think they don't exist anymore. Laup be ready for maximum warp as soon as we get back. We have a plan. Let's move." "Wait, Charlemagne." Tacitus held everyone's attention. Charlemagne looked at his expression of gravitas, and saw his moral disgust at the situation. "I just realized who that civilian was. His name is Domel. He's the Romulan Subminister of Intelligence." "Well, things just got a bit more complicated. I think we now know why we didn't know about all this affair till now. Greer's going to love this..." Unfortunately, the entrances to the dam were severely restricted. Guards at both sides of the top causeway; duranium-plated hatches beyond that. The only other entrance was the massive service gate locked airtight shut. But they had rehearsed contingencies like these in their holoclosets. All they had to do was rappel down the side of the cliff, somewhat reducing the effectiveness of their cloaks, giving a wrinkly look to their bodies where that rope wrapped around their bodies. But they just used the shadows of the dimly lit caves to mask what the cloaks could not. Coming slowly from above upside down Seneca and Cicero came down behind the two guards in complete silence. Nobody saw the two when they hit each sentry in the thoracic vertebrae with the butts of their rifles, both silencing them and immobilizing them. No reason to expend energy on Romulans who would not see them anyway; besides, there could be alarms to detect phaser fire. Charlemagne used his skill as the ship's physician to prepare preloaded vials of anesthesia to knock them out. After that Tacitus came down from the cavern above from his sniper position covering his teammates. They opened the door to the interior with a combination of devices. First Cicero used a form of plastique foam that could be injected around the bolts holding the door locked. Then he placed a suction-cup-like device that sealed the explosion from the outside with a vacuum. Also equipped with it was a device that replicated the exact opposite noise in terms of its wave function, effectively canceling out any noise getting outside. Once inside they just followed the roar to the generator room. The one guard on duty was secure in his adjacent room with his phaser off. He was so surprised at the subdued explosion he relieved himself in his uniform before he could think what to do. Seneca entered first covering the wall opposite of the room, Cicero covering the other wall. As Tacitus panned around with his phaser rifle in firing position he caught sight of the Romulan. He dispatched him in less than half a second. The two hours of target practice in the holocloset each and every day really paid off in times like this. There was no other resistance along the rest of the hallway. Simply following the dull roar of the turbines, Seneca and Tacitus opened the hatch to the generator room. Only a few Romulan engineers were in there doing various maintenance work. They were easily taken out from long range by a wide range burst in one shot. Tacitus thought to himself how good he had it compared to the ancient Japanese; they would have had to use arrows one-by-one to do what he did in only a second. As Seneca and Tacitus set up the explosives on the turbines, Cicero picked the electronic lock with Caesar's hacking program in his wrist PADD into the transformer room and set up the surge inducer with its auto-destruct device. It would not overload the batteries until it lost contact with the signal from Cicero's transceiver when he beamed up; at least Cicero could be out of the battle zone before they gave up the element of surprise. Charlemagne and Holliman had a much more difficult job. They would have to use a shaped charge to blow a hole through three meters of rock to get into the torpedo room. They simply had to wait for the power to go off. The one problem was that this was a cave. There was no light that could be magnified by night vision devices. They would have to attach an extremely dim light to the ceiling to have their night vision work. No sense in using flashlights. Why give the Romulans any light to fight in? From there they would have to physically search each crate. For that they would have to disengage their cloaks. They would be using night vision, their PADDs and integrated tricorders, and a foam explosive dispenser all while keeping an uplink with the Apocalypse. All those devices on and running would suck energy from the battery and not leave much for a cloaking device. Holliman, the ship's cloak specialist, told himself that after this mission he was going to have to work on getting all this stuff to run on fewer batteries. They only had to wait twenty minutes to have the power shut off. The batteries at the power backup station exploded in a firestorm of acid and metal. The Romulans there never even had time to scream. Then the dam broke as the turbine explosives detonated. Charlemagne and Holliman set off the charge and a three foot diameter disk crashed down into the room below and disengaged their cloaks. Charlemagne set up the light while his companion started injecting foam explosive between the containers' sides and detonating them. Charlemagne went through and recorded what was in each one with a video recorder the size of a fingernail attached to his optical relay cloak readout. Items clearly marked as supplies from other Romulan bases were among the good stolen in the room. Charlemagne thought to himself that the Tal Shiar was almost eating away their own empire's military. He felt disgusted at the way they turned on their own government when it did not suit their tastes. "Guess the government is too warm and fuzzy for their taste. Bunch of cannibals." The others had already gotten up to the ship; the last two operators only had to find the torpedoes and get out. After what seemed like a half hour of searching and documenting, though in reality only ninety seconds with the warning klaxons going off, they set off the alarm on the trilithium torpedoes as they blew off the tops of their crates. That's when security isolated their position and started firing blindly into the room regardless of the danger. Charlemagne put a matter/antimatter bomb down in the crate and put locator beacons on the torpedoes for transport. "Let's go Livy! Hwl get us out of here!" They beamed up to the Apocalypse, alerting every Romulan with a sensor suite to their position on some nearby starship. With torpedoes safely on the ship, the bomb no longer sensed the locator beacons next to it and detonated, leaving nothing intact in the entire base. "Caesar, get us out of here, maximum warp!" "Charlemagne! Warbird behind us using a broadband tachyon beam to unmask us! I think they located us when they detected the beam-up." Tacitus said. "Alright, they know we're here, just get going!" Suddenly a phaser blast cut right through engineering severing plasma coolant and power conduits. Cicero didn't even have to wait for the command before he was already getting his hazmat suit on and was back in engineering using the emergency engineering holograms to get the ship warp capable again. Hwl tried to dodge the disrupter fire coming from behind, but the Apocalypse was losing speed as power had to be rerouted to engineering away from the impulse engines. "Sir, we're almost dead in the water! We're at 1/10 impulse!" Charlemagne thought to himself about the paradox Sun Tzu described on emptiness in battle: Therefore when you induce others to construct a formation while you yourself are formless, then you are concentrated while the opponent is divided. "OK, time for some of that improvisation Greer told us to use. Bridge to engineering. Cicero, how long till we're able to get out of here?" Cicero replied over the intercom, "Five minutes, Charlemagne." "You have two; Eric, get back there and help. Tacitus, how long does it take to power up phasers from deactivation to full power?" "About twenty seconds." "Seneca, Laup, Tacitus, replicate holoemitters to mimic you bodies and get your EVA suits on. Computer, disengage ejection-initiated auto-erasure of computer core. We're going to do a dry ejection and turn off all power except to engineering, weapon batteries, and gravity. Laup, turn the dorsal side of the ship towards the planet to make it look like we're making a run for reentry." Everyone still on the bridge opened the compartments under their seats, put their suits on, and placed a holoemitter on every bridge station. They then moved into the captain's quarters, and Charlemagne gave the order. "Computer, eject all bridge seats, authorization Sands-Alpha-Omega-2-4." There was a shudder felt throughout the ship as the seats and the bridge's atmosphere burst into space. They went back on the bridge and kneeled down at their stations somewhat clumsily with their suits on. "Tacitus, what's the warbird doing." "It's turning towards the seats, sir. A shuttlecraft just exited the ship heading our way. Looks like they might try to tow us." "Hot damn! We did it! Tacitus, wait till they're at close range, power phasers, and fire. How are we doing on warp power, Cicero?" "We'll have it in thirty seconds, forty-five at most." "Romulan shuttle in range, Charlemagne!" "Fire!" As the Romulan shuttlecraft approached the Apocalypse from below, Tacitus fired the ventral phaser array, cutting it in half and exploding. "Good job, Tacitus. Lt. Hwl, set course 020, mark 80, full impulse. Engage. Tacitus, are quantum torpedoes online?" "Yes, sir. I've already targeted the warbird." "Fire at will." The Apocalypse's fore end erupted in blue light as the torpedoes raced outward and detonated near the warbird's artificial quantum singularity. It tried to safely collapse it and eject it out of the ship, but it was too late. They exploded in a flash of fire and debris. "Engineering to Charlemagne. We have warp power." "Tacitus, fire a photon torpedo at the seats. We don't want any traces of our presence. Laup get us out of here, maximum warp!" Four days later, Charlemagne and his crew were debriefed on what had happened. Commander in Chief Starfleet Special Operations (Intelligence), Vice Admiral James Greer and Fleet Admiral Trey Peters, Chief of Starfleet Operations were all very interested in what had happened. "After your actions in this operation, I think we can be sure that a reappraisal of our contacts inside the Romulan Empire is in order. Captain Sands, I want to thank you and your crew for the service you have provided our great Federation." As he finished, the Chief of Starfleet Operations stood and took Charlemagne's hand in his own. Greer smiled at him as they left. They got up to leave the room to catch a transport to the British Isles. Charlemagne and his wife were going to take a weekend vacation to Galway, Ireland. But for a few seconds, still in awe of the past two weeks, he just paused there thinking of his crew's sagacity and how descriptive of them the final stanza of a poem by W. E. Henley was: "It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul..." Story by David Sands Edited by Amy Szczepanski and James Mirabello With Special Assitance from Chris Hitzelberger, Brooks L'Allier, Keith pepin, and Alvin Washington Series Concept Design by David Highlander