Star Trek: Intrepid
Pre Emptive Maneuvers
by Galen Holcomb
(intrepidlogs@hotmail.com)

Pre Emptive Maneuvers

Forward from the author:
This tale is the second part of a story arc that began with "The Double Edge." This story, and the preceding one, take place during the Dominion War. The final chapter will be chronicled in "Inevitability."

"We have shared the incommunicable experience of war.
In our youths, our hearts were touched by fire."
-Oliver Wendell Holmes

Chapter 1

The city was a ruined, smoking wasteland. The skeletal remains of skyscrapers stood like ragged monoliths against an angry red sky. Rubble, trash and decomposing bodies clogged what had once been busy through fares. The life that now remained on this world was strictly non sentient. The creatures that roamed this decaying planet were scavengers, scurrying through the landscape in a vain attempt to keep starvation at bay. It hardly mattered, of course-----because deadly microorganisms and radiation were everywhere. Eventually, the noxious atmosphere would make a causality of the entire eco system. In the end, not even the vegetation would be spared.

Across this forlorn graveyard a man walked. He stumbled over rotting bodies and charred ruins, shambling forward, step after step, toiling under the burning heat and the radiation as though driven on by an unseen taskmaster.

At length his wanderings brought him to the remains of a communal structure that looked oddly out of place. The architecture was reminiscent of Earth but the style was too old. He was no historian, but he could have sworn this building belonged in Earth's past-----Earth's distant past; say two or three hundred years ago. He thought it amazing that it was still intact.

This building, this apartment building, (That was the correct term, he realized.) struck him as familiar.

Well, of course it was. After all, he had lived here.

He had?

Sure. In fact, there he was now, sitting on a bench in the building's courtyard with his skateboard, eating his favorite candy: Hot Tamales, if memory served.

"Hi," he said to his boyhood self.

The boy looked up at him, regarding him with obvious disdain. Then he began sticking his fingers in the box of Hot Tamales, scooping out several of the red treasures and popping them in his mouth. "I don't wanna talk." The boy said around the mouthful of candy.

The man looked around at the crumbling but well-preserved building. "But you should talk. You'll feel better."

"No I won't," he countered.

"Well, you look like you want to ask me a question at the very least. Don't you want to know what it's like to grow up?"

When the kid responded his voice sounded bitter and disillusioned. It was the tone of an adult who had seen far too much suffering in his life. "Growing up sucks. Why'd you do this, anyway?" He slurred through his candy. "You wrecked everything."

The man thought this was a peculiar thing to say. After all, it was the boy who had caused this disaster, not he. But strangely enough, he felt responsible anyhow. "I don't know," the man said honestly. "I guess it just sort of happened."

The boy threw his box of candy across the courtyard, apparently disgusted by the man's uncommitted response. He then leaped off the bench, slapping his skateboard down on the cracked and buckled pavement, preparing to role away. But the man caught hold of his arm as he passed and spun him around. He noticed with distaste that the kid's skin was starting to blister and rot from disease. Dark malignant tumors riddled his forearm, making him look like he had been splattered with mud or hot tar.

Now the boy began to cry and the man quickly realized the kid's tears were those of rage. "I was happy," he sobbed angrily. His blue eyes were accusing and trenchant.

"I don't think you-----"

"I was happy the way I was!" The boy yelled.

The man tried to think of a reply that would comfort the boy but he suddenly felt very confused. He wanted to explain this to the kid, to tell him that he was too confused to help out; to fix whatever it was the kid thought he had done, but the child wouldn't listen to him. Instead, he had stopped crying and of all things, began to whistle. It was a jarring, persistent whistle, and not very musical or pleasant. Two notes, one high, one low. The kid kept whistling those same two notes over and over again. It was very distracting and made it harder to think. And why the hell did it sound so familiar?

*

The bosun whistle piped once again over the speakers, this time followed by a voice that was apologetic. "Captain, are you there?"

Jason Aubrey sat up from his bed with the effort of one climbing from a bog of quicksand. When he responded, his voice was thick and haggard.

"Captain, here. Go ahead, Mr. Pal."

"I'm sorry to wake you, sir. But you wanted to be notified when we reached Gorn space. We're approaching the border now. ETA 45 minutes."

"Thank you. Please have Lieutenant Commander Adol report to the bridge. I'll be there shortly."

"Aye sir. Bridge out."

Aubrey slowly rose from his bunk and stumbled into the lavatory. Minutes later he ordered a cup of extra strong Risian coffee from the replicator. Sitting at his desk, his mind running on four hours of sleep and a bizarre dream, he went on autopilot. Without thinking, he turned on his terminal screen to check the daily intelligence updates from Starfleet Command concerning the war effort-----just as he had every morning for the last five months.

With no regard for his wishes, reality slapped him hard across the face. The last communiqu‚ he had received was still on the screen. He had forgot to clear it before going to bed. It blinked back to life, the message glaring at him accusingly, much as the child had in his dream. It read:

To: Aubrey, Jason Commanding officer, Federation Starship Intrepid NCC-38957

From: Commanding officer, Tango Fleet

Message Classification: Priority One - Scramble

Stardate: 51724.5

Body:

By order of Admiral Edward Jellico and in accordance with Starfleet Command regulations you are hereby relieved of any and all command responsibilities for the Federation Starship Intrepid, NCC-38957.

You are further ordered to turn over full command of afore mentioned vessel to your first officer, or the next ranking senior officer as necessitated by availability or circumstance, at which time you will surrender yourself into that officer's custody.

This transmission is also to serve notice to you that a formal board of inquiry was called in the matter of insubordination against you as charged by Edward Jellico, Tango Fleet Task Force commanding officer on Stardate 51721.3 As a conclusion of the board's findings, the Starfleet Commander has determined that you will stand trial at the earliest possible date for violating Starfleet General Order 104, Section B and Articles 12 and 17 pertaining to the refusal to follow orders from a superior officer during a wartime emergency.

It is recommended that you seek counsel immediately so that an adequate defense can be prepared on your behalf.

Said orders are effective upon receipt of this transmission by your vessel's subspace array.

End transmission.

He deleted the message, knowing it wasn't really gone. It had been automatically archived in the ship's redundant memory core upon arrival. All priority one messages from Command were.

Of course, the message was more of a formality than anything else. Jellico had verbally relieved Aubrey of command back at the Kokala system. Aubrey had disregarded that order for what he considered to be good reasons. Over three billion good reasons, he reminded himself.

He showered and put on a fresh uniform. Before leaving, he glanced at himself in the mirror. He had to chuckle at the ghastly apparition before him. Fatigued and tense, he resembled one of those undead monsters from ancient fiction. A "vampire" or "zombie" or something. He was so pale he-----

He wanted to stay up and watch Nightmare Theater on TV. "I was a teenage werewolf" was playing. It was a school night, but he had the measles and wouldn't be going tomorrow anyway. If he was quiet his mother-----

His vision darkened. There was a dreadful moment in which he actually didn't know what year it was. Was he nine years old and dreaming he was 38, or-----?

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a poster hanging on his cabin wall. He was sure it hadn't been there a moment ago. He approached it cautiously to give it a closer look. The picture showed a man running towards the foreground, his image blurred slightly to symbolize great speed. Action scenes of people fighting one another in hand to hand combat populated the background, including someone that looked like a tall ape. It seemed a throw back to centuries old movie posters-----advertisements for a two-dimensional kind of spectator entertainment.

I don't remember putting that there, he thought. He walked closer to it, his skin beginning to crawl. The letters, the images all seemed familiar somehow. The title read "The Six Million Dollar Man".

What did that mean?

He closed his eyes, and then opened them.

Somehow, he wasn't too surprised to find the poster had disappeared.

I'd better start getting more sleep, he thought.

But the strange dream and disappearing poster clung to his mind for the rest of the day.

* * * * *

The doors of holodeck two parted with a grinding hiss and a dark skinned Bajoran woman walked through the entrance. The simulated environment around her was a wooded forest with immense trees that seemed to reach up through the clouds. It was a storybook setting-----like a cross between a prehistoric world and a fantasy realm belonging to elves and wizards.

There were only three holodecks on Intrepid, and since it was an older ship, they had all been added within the last five years. Their systems were no longer up to date, but they still worked well enough for basic programs or the latest holonovel.

Doctor Kella Lisern approached an Andorian man who was sitting on a log. He stood as she came near.

"Well,' she said. "this was a surprise. If you wanted a holodeck partner, you should have warned me first. I'm not dressed for the occasion." She swept the great forest with her eyes. "Whatever that may be."

The most that Lieutenant Commander Adol could manage was a thin smile that came nowhere near his eyes. "This seemed the safest place to talk without being overheard."

She raised her eyebrows. "My office is pretty private." She offered.

Adol gently shook his head. "We'd be seen."

Like everyone aboard, Kella was exhausted from recent events and pulling double and triple shifts. She was depending on will power alone to stay on her feet. Despite this, she found the spirit to laugh. "Are we having an affair?" She asked playfully.

Adol seemed to almost take her flippant remark seriously. "In a manner of speaking, we may be."

Kella's amusement fled as quickly as it had arrived. If the ship's security chief was making an effort to have a clandestine meeting, there must be good reason for it. Given that the first officer was still incapacitated and Adol was also the acting XO, she was not expecting cheery news.

"We need to talk. And quickly." Adol said.

"I guess I'd better sit down." She replied with resignation.

They sat next to each other on the replicated log and Adol began to talk. Less than ten minutes later, he was finished.

Doctor Kella was quiet for long moments afterward, appearing to study the carpet of leaves and twigs on the ground below her.

"Well?" He prompted.

Kella continued to stare at the ground. "I think you're making quite a few assumptions." She finally replied. "Don't take me wrong, there's a chance you're right,-----"

"But you think I'm wrong. You trust the captain implicitly. I understand."

She looked at him sharply, annoyed by his oversimplified conclusion. "No you don't understand. You're right. I do trust the captain. That doesn't mean I trust him blindly."

Adol softened his tone. "I'm not saying you do, Doctor. I didn't mean to imply that."

Kella rubbed her forehead tiredly. "Adol, we're all running on empty. You know what this crew has been through. Maybe none of us are thinking straight. But the captain is convinced that two planets are at stake. If Betazed is destroyed by the Inth-----"

"Doctor, we don't know any of that for sure. Only the captain has had direct communication with the Inth."

"We've all had direct communication," she corrected him. "or have you forgotten what happened to the crew?"

Now it was Adol's turn at annoyance. Doctor Kella knew damn well what he was trying to say but she wanted to fence over his choice of words. He closed his eyes, took a calming breath, and then tried again. "Yes, I know we all had our minds probed while we were inside the Kokala nebula. But only Captain Aubrey had extended, detailed conversation with the Inth. All the rest of have to go on is vague impressions that were left over from our encounter. Some crewmembers don't even remember that much."

"Doesn't that mean he's in a better position to know their true intentions? To know if it's worth the risk of helping them?"

Adol's voice darkened noticeably. "Just the opposite. I think it makes his behavior all the more suspect."

She nodded curtly. "You want me to relieve him."

"Two hours ago that's precisely what I wanted."

"And now?"

Adol stood, directing his comments to the fairy tale forest around him. "I need your professional, objective opinion of his mental state."

Kella stood as well, walking around to face him. "If that's the case, you should be making this request of the ship's counselor, not me."

"For now, I'm making the request of you."

"Well," she hedged, "you don't have to order it. I've begun running complete physicals on all of the crew and Lieutenant Perboda will be performing new psych profiles. It's routine after an incident of this nature."

Adol turned to her. "That's not what I mean. What I mean is a complete psychological evaluation of the captain under Starfleet General Order 104 Section C."

Kella summarized it without hesitation. "If the ship's Chief Medical Officer has reason to believe that the commanding officer's mental state has been impaired, there's a specific examination and battery of tests that's conducted. While this is being done, he is temporarily relieved of his duties until the Chief Medical Officer is satisfied that the commanding officer is fit for command."

"That's the one." Adol affirmed.

Her eyes seemed to examine him both inside and out. "I don't get you, Adol. If you're this convinced that Jason is behaving irrationally, why not just follow Admiral Jellico's orders and relieve him? You have Starfleet behind you."

"I have my reasons," he said huffily.

Doctor Kella smiled. "You're not sure, are you? You think there's a chance he could be right, or you'd have relieved him by now. You want proof. You want someone to convince you one way or the other."

The Andorian said nothing. He folded his arms and stared at her defiantly, as if to say she would be getting no apologies for what he thought or didn't think.

"Well, I'll order a complete work up on him after he's finished talks with the Gorn. Is that satisfactory?"

"I'd like it done now. But we don't have the time. The captain is the only one who can negotiate a stop in Gorn space so we can affect repairs. And we're getting close to the border."

"And what if my tests are inconclusive?"

Both of his antennas bent forward. "I don't think they will be." He responded. There was conviction in his voice but no pleasure.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them for several moments.

"Well," Adol said, deciding on a change of subject, "any word on Commander Shantok's condition? Is she still in a coma?"

"It's not a coma." She replied slowly. "It's a deep hypnotic state that Vulcans use to heal themselves. They pool their body's resources towards repairing damaged tissues." Her eyes sparked momentarily as they always did when Kella was discussing her profession. "It's truly remarkable."

"I thought Vulcans could only use that technique for physical injuries, not mental ones."

Kella shrugged. "So did I. Maybe it's her Betazoid genes."

The security chief became even more somber. "If she was influenced by the Inth like the captain was-----"

His combadge chirped before he could complete the thought.

"Bridge to Lieutenant Commander Adol."

He tapped it in response. "Go ahead."

"We're approaching Gorn space. The captain needs you on the bridge."

"Acknowledged. On my way." He tugged on his uniform tunic then turned once more to Kella. "Doctor, as soon as the captain is done with his talks. Not a moment later."

Kella reflected for a moment before answering. "I'd like to be the one to tell him. Alone."

"I don't have any objections. Technically, it's your order he'll be obeying, not mine. Just keep me informed."

"Of course."

Adol left the room without another word.

Doctor Kella allowed herself another look at the picturesque forest hoping to draw comfort from the serene beauty around her.

It didn't work.

"Computer," she said, "end program."

The fictional landscape wavered and vanished like a mirage. Her heels clicked sharply on the painted grid as she walked back to the real world, where difficult choices awaited.

* * * * *

Gul Balog sat alone in Intrepid's main brig, immersed in silent communing with himself. All things considered, he had much to commune about. After all, in the last six hours, his life had changed significantly.

And it was hardly for the best.

Six hours ago he had been in command of a Galor class warship. His vessel was part of the attack fleet sent to conquer Betazed. The battle had gone very well. Federation forces were outnumbered ten to one and as predicted, Betazed had fallen.

But so had Gul Balog. Despite his careful planning, Aubrey had put an unexpected tactic to use and Balog's ship had been lost. Balog had survived in an escape pod just before his vessel had exploded.

He had eventually decided on suicide, rather than the slow death promised by the pod's life support failure.

But Aubrey had foiled that plan as well, beaming him away before he could complete his task.

Now, here he sat, a prisoner of war. A disgrace. Cheated out of every opportunity and every means of escape.

Or so it seemed.

What his na‹ve Federation jailers couldn't know was that Balog could leave this prison any time he wished. As a youth, in happier times, Balog had had friends in the Obsidian Order, a Cardassian espionage agency feared throughout the galaxy. He had learned things from those long ago acquaintances. And he still was privy to technology that the average Gul was not. There were devices on his person that were undetectable even to the most modern scanning instruments-----

But now was not the time. Because Balog had been delightfully reminded that there were constants at work in the universe that cut across all differences and genders, across all species and social orders.

And one of those constants was that underlings in the security profession often had too much time on their hands. So they talked. They couldn't know that Balog had the means to hear their every word, despite being well out of earshot.

So the security offers assigned to him kept talking and the Cardassian Gul continued to listen, absorbing everything from ship gossip to details about the current mission the crew was on.

And what he learned astounded him.

According to the crew, Aubrey had been relieved of command and his ship was now considered a rogue vessel. The reasons were even more unbelievable. Apparently, this ship was carrying organic super weapons from a legendary race that the Starfleet captain had discovered while hiding his ship in the Kokala nebula. A Starfleet Admiral had ordered Aubrey to use this new power to liberate Betazed.

Incredibly, Aubrey had refused, instead opting to rescue more of the nebula aliens from Dominion occupied territory.

But the best part was who the nebula aliens claimed to be. It was all Balog could do to avoid laughing aloud.

The Inth.

Ironically, Balog had written a history paper on them while studying at the Premium Military Academy on Cardassia Prime. Since he had little else to do for the moment, he began to recall what he knew from his research. ('Research' was a generous word, since his information mostly had come from folk tales and poorly remembered children's stories.)

6000 years ago, an 'evil' super race had supposedly held tyranny over the industrialized galaxy, crushing civilizations under their heel without mercy-----obliterating any race that dared attempt expansion. No one knew what they really looked like or where their territory ended or began. Their technology had been unfathomable and their methods unknowable. They were reputed to have annialated over two dozen interstellar empires during their reign.

For example, there was the legend of the Tkon Empire, which had flourished around the same time as the marauders. The Tkon were a mighty community boasting over 3000 planetary members and technology so advanced that they could move stars.

Until they had the misfortune of crossing paths with the Inth. The details of how or why this encounter came to be were now lost to mythology. What is certain is that the star in the Tkon's home system mysteriously went nova shortly afterward, obliterating the hub of their civilization. Casualties were estimated in the hundreds of trillions. The nova was suspicious because it occurred several million years ahead of schedule-----and with no warning signs to alert the population.

Then there was the fable about a world that the Federation cataloged as "Taurus II".

According to this story, Taurus II was also creating an interstellar alliance. The planet was home to gifted artists and philosophers that were renowned among dozens of worlds. Their keen minds were held in the highest regard and they were often called upon by their neighbors to do everything from mediating disputes to engineering new propulsion drives. Their gentle nature, wisdom and intuitive insights were in great demand by the powers of the day.

When the end came for them it was as unexpected as it had been for the Tkon. It was said that one day, winged monsters appeared over Taurus II in such numbers that they blackened the very sky. The Taurians were subjected to a massacre of such scope and magnitude that the very oceans had turned the color of their blood. When it finally ended, the population and their cities had been wiped off the face of the planet.

The fable grew darker. Those who recounted the legend went on to say that the Taurians that survived the attack had been the unlucky ones, for it was not only their cities that had been obliterated, but also their minds. Their higher brain functions had been permanently eradicated, dooming them to a mindless existence. Beings that had once stood among the galaxy's elite scholars and thinkers were now little more than primitive savages, huddling in caves and hurling curses at their moon, just as their ancestors had once done.

But even there the horror did not end.

For you see, these savages passed on their diminutive intellects to their children, who passed it on to theirs-----descendant after descendant living as an animal, unable to form even rudimentary language or society, incapable of evolving-----technology and space travel forever beyond their reach.

The Inth not only stole resources and lives but even worse, they robbed a race of its future, of its potential.

Of its destiny. .

Then, so the legends went, the Inth abruptly disappeared. They dismantled their technology, recalled their armies and retreated from know space. They left nothing behind of themselves, save a lurking fear that remained in the collective memories of a thousand species spread across half the galaxy.

And it was complete and utter nonsense.

To this day, there was not the slightest shred of evidence that such beings ever existed.

Balog was in agreement with his history professor who held the opinion that the Inth were nothing more than the ultimate manifestation of xenophobia. It was a dread that all spaefaring creatures felt when moving into space for the first time. There were those that felt that warp speed was somehow breaking a covenant with nature. There was that primitive voice that cried out a warning to stop expanding into space before it was too late-----for monsters may dwell just beyond the next star system, ready to inflict retribution.

Conveniently for the storytellers, every account of the Inth was wildly different. They were great sea serpents that rose from the water to devastate the cities of Durkola V. They were the ice demons of Andoria. They were the vicious carnivores of Coridan.

Maybe the Inth really had existed at one time; but their exploits had been told and re told by so many cultures over so many centuries that by now, who could say which deeds were true and which a fabrication?

Or maybe they never existed. It was possible that all of the horror stories passed down from different races were nothing more than a collection of atrocities committed by other species. The Inth could be a catchall label to explain away the murderous actions of any race-----to say nothing of strange natural disasters.

Why did our sun explode?

It must have been the Inth.

Who annihilated our civilization?

Why, it was the Inth of course.

Why did my children fall ill?

Again, the Inth.

It was equally possible that the beings Aubrey encountered were simply taking the name of the Inth as a psychological edge to invoke fear and intimidate others into doing their bidding.

Or maybe all of the stories were true. Every last one of them.

Whatever the truth was, Gul Balog couldn't possibly have cared less. What he did care about was that whoever these beings really were, they possessed a power far beyond anything in the Alpha Quadrant.

A power that Captain Jason Aubrey had negotiated for himself.

If what Balog had heard was true, then Aubrey had managed to turn his vessel into a super weapon, by borrowing their organic technology. With this weapon, he had defeated three of Cardassia's most powerful warships within seconds.

Imagine what he could do to the Dominion with such power at his beck and call? To Cardassia? Imagine hundreds of Starfleet ships with such weapons.

It couldn't be allowed. If this was all true, if Aubrey was on his way to Archer IV to meet with more of these aliens, then it was essential that Balog remain alive a bit longer.

It was dreadful enough that the Dominion had conquered his world without his people uttering the slightest protest or firing a single shot. But to then be conquered by the Federation with their twisted values and child like views of right and wrong? Cardassia would be corrupted beyond any hope of recovery.

Balog wouldn't have it. Cardassia may have turned its back on him, but not he on it.

When the time came, he would see these 'Inth' for himself. He would make them listen.

Humans were not known for their superior oratory gifts so it stood to reason that if a human could convince these creatures to lend out their power, then the mind boggled at what a Cardassian could accomplish.

He forgave himself the weakness of fantasy for one moment. In his mind's eye, he saw a vast armada of Cardassia's proudest warships, all loaded with super weapons, descending on the Dominion and the Federation-----a fleet of invincible battle cruisers unmatched in the known galaxy. He saw a Cardassia strong and feared once again.

It was enough. Now was not the time to indulge in frivolous dreams. There was work to do if he ever wished to see his flights of fancy solidify into reality.

The first step was the hardest. It meant waiting. He would need to gather more information. He would need to prepare himself for the opportune moment.

Ah, but when that time arrived, he would seize it with every fiber of his being. There was blessed hope once again.

And one thing he vowed to himself; if anyone stopped him, he would not allow this ship to survive-----and he would take as many Federation lives with him as possible before ending his own. He found that this fallback position afforded a dark pleasure that was oddly satisfying.

Behind the humming force field Balog smiled. But just enough that someone would have to be standing right next to him to see it. After all, he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

Not yet.