A Line in the Sand: A Star Trek: The Edge of Midnight Fan Work

I didn't go too far to get something to eat. I still did want to prepare the data pack I had mentioned, and the closest place was auxiliary computer control, located two decks down from the bridge. The mess hall was located to the aft of the ship on the second to last deck and I didn’t want to be that far from the bridge in case something happened. Instead, I was going to rely on an old operations officer trick. I walked past auxiliary computer control towards the outer edge of deck three. No one would be in this area now, as this was living quarters, cargo bays and most importantly to me, the life pods. This trick had been around for as long as Starfleet had, officers working long shifts while the galley was closed or between meals would often sneak down to the life pods or shuttles to steal emergency rations for a quick working meal. There was an unofficial honor system to it, to replace whatever you took as soon as you could, which was part of the reason senior officers turned a blind eye to it. That being said, it was practically unheard of for senior officers to actually take part in the tradition. Many Commanders and Captains would simply order the galley opened if they were hungry. I was in luck, the area was deserted. I opened the hatch of the nearest pod and clambered in.

The meal choice was both poor and entirely too human focused for my taste. I had always believed that the staff responsible for these meals were both human and sadists and this new ration batch did nothing to dissuade me of that belief. At some point the crop of rations from the war had been cycled out and I had no idea what most of these were, let alone which ones were decent when eaten cold. Thumbing past such unrecognizable dishes as beef stroganoff, jajangmyeon and navarin I found myself holding the two contenders for my next meal. I didn't really know either of the dishes, but I recognized enough of the ingredients to at least be able to guess at what they might taste like. I read the labels again, trying to decide if chicken and vegetable stew or scalloped potatoes and ham would be better out of the bag.

“Can't decide?” a voice queried from outside the hatch, and I spun. Commander Glov Gronnahk stood in the hallway carrying a long storage case and a cargo manifest PADD. I hadn’t closed the pod door! It was a stupid mistake even ensigns didn't make. I felt my antennae bristle in a threat display. How would this look, here was his Captain, hunched over in an escape pod rummaging through ration packs like a feral dog caught in the garbage. I wanted to explain, to come up with some excuse but the only word that my hunger addled brain could form was “fuck”. He laughed and I realized I had said that out loud. With a sigh he set down his case and clambered into the pod with me, taking the seat next to me. With another chuckle he slammed the hatch closed and eyed my choices.

“I know it seems like it would be good, but that chicken stew gets a weird layer of fat on the top if it's sat for too long and makes the whole thing miserable to eat. Potatoes aren't a bad choice, but make sure you have a drink. They get stuck to the roof of your mouth when they're cold.” He started to go through the ration packs before pulling out something called chili con carne. I gaped at him, dumbfounded and he continued speaking as he tore the pack open and pulled the spoon out of the bag.

“This is the best one to eat cold, but it's mine. You missed out Captain.” he plunged the spoon into the bag and started to eat. The dish was very red and appeared to be a mixture of many earth foods, like a really thick soup. He was probably right that it was the best, it certainly didn't smell bad, and he tucked into it with gusto.

“Did you not come down here to eat Captain?” he said between mouthfuls, almost teasingly. “I don’t think your responsibilities include escape pod inventories, so that excuse won’t work on me.” I looked down at the packet in my hands, still unopened.

“How…how did you find me?” I replied quietly, looking back up at him as he continued to eat. What possible reason could have brought him down to the cargo bays right now?

“Eat first, talk after.” He snorted, before adding a “Captain” at the end a moment later. I looked down at my pack and finally tore it open. The dish was gloopy and left a chalky aftertaste that clung to the roof of my mouth, but I didn't care. I was ravenous. We sat together across from each other in the escape pod, the small space amplifying the sounds of chewing. Neither of us wanted to disturb what was likely the last quiet minutes we would have for a while. Before long we were scraping the bottoms of our bags with our spoons to get whatever last little morsels remained. Commander Glov Gronnahk finished first and tucked his empty bag back into the ration pack before pulling out the protein bar and slipping it into the pocket of his uniform. I followed suit a few moments later and we both slid the remains of our meals into the pods recycler, neither of us saying a word to each other. I took a moment to check my uniform for any mess and moved to open the hatch and carry on with my day, but he raised his hand to cover the switch, denying me escape from the awkward confines of the pod. Finally, he broke the silence.

“We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I can tell you about what I actually came down here for. Trust me when I say it wasn’t to find you.” I did not want to talk about it, even though he was giving me an opening. This was a different side to the Commander I hadn't seen before, gone was the argumentative Tellarite exterior, here was actual comradeship from someone who had been through the ringer. Hell, we had all been through the ringer these last few years.

“Why did you come down here, Commander?” I replied quietly. He spun the PADD he had brought towards me.

“Transport inhibitors.” He grinned. “We’re carrying enough to cover the entire colony too, if these figures match what's actually in the bay. Plus, they're small enough that the Klingons can’t target them from orbit. That means they have to come down and take ‘em out. I would pit our crews against whatever Krognik shit marines the Klingons brought with them.” I barked out a laugh. It was a good plan, even described so colorfully. It could buy us time, perhaps even force the Klingons to negotiate, though it clearly relied on us failing to stop them in orbit and I replied with as much.

“Captain, every one of your breed are used to us Starfleet engineers being miracle workers and we sure can be. But this, well this is math. We’re too underpowered, our weapons don't pack enough of a punch. I’m an old man and I deal in the real world and real solutions. That's why I’m after these.” he tapped the PADD for emphasis. “Plus, that way, once the other two actually do figure out how we’ll beat them in space, they’ll get to show off the brilliance Starfleet science is known for. Even if it ends up being me and my teams that actually have to do the work.” I rolled my eyes at this.

“Us operation’s types usually have to end up doing all the work.” I replied knowingly.

“Captain, you haven't been one of us operation’s types in a long time.” The Tellarite bluntness was back, but he was right. I hadn't actually belonged to the operations track since 2254, first as XO’s on the Kerala and Sirius and now Captain of the Resolute. He was reminding me that even though there were officers out there who understood it, command was isolating. I wasn't a grunt anymore and I had to take moments of quiet understanding like this when I could get them. I also knew I still had to keep the distance my rank needed from me, even in the cramped confines of an escape pod eating emergency rations like two overworked ensigns. Neither of us spoke for a while, both of us taking these few minutes to relax, collect our thoughts and mentally prepare for the coming confrontation with the Klingons. In the quiet, my mind drifted back to the Suliban.

“Tell me about working on Task Force Dynamo.” I asked him, abruptly changing the subject. He looked at me quizzically for a moment before speaking again.

“Why do you ask Captain?”

“I was still a Commander back in 2259, flying a desk for KLICOM on Starbase 19. I was aware of what was happening, but Cajitar was my major concern. At least one of the Suliban representatives was from Tandar, and I was hoping to get your perspective on what happened.” I didn't like talking about this period in my life, 2259 had been an unhappy time for me. I was fresh off the destruction of the Sirius and my convalescence on Starbase 4 and I had found myself attached to the mission to try to establish some semblance of order in the Cajitar Concession. The evacuation of the Suliban by a largely civilian fleet orchestrated out of Starbase 10 had been the focus of most fleetwide scuttlebutt at the time. However, such talk is notoriously unreliable and here was a chance to speak with someone who had been in the thick of it. Bray closed his eyes and was silent for a long moment evidently considering his response to my question.

“It was shit captain, no other word for it.” He finally responded. “Don't get me wrong, Admiral Templeton did the best they could with what we could muster, they are an absolute master of the tedious yet critical work that is logistics. But it didn't matter, there were too many people, on ships too slow to outrun the Klingons. Even when FEDAC showed up, it still wasn't enough.” He crossed his arms over his chest, drawing inwards.

“We don’t have to continue, Commander.” I asked him, suddenly feeling the cramped confines of the escape pod and uncomfortable with having put him on the spot. He waved a hand to dismiss my concern

“I spent most of July through September as the Chief Engineer on the Omar Bradley, one of the FGF marine transports Templeton secured. We kept pulling half starved refugees off of freighters that could only make warp three and hadn’t been scooped up by the Klingons through pure chance.” His voice grew quiet and distant. Clearly, he had found himself trapped in a memory. Before I could interrupt, he continued speaking.

“If any of the Suliban here lived through that, news of the Klingons arrival will destroy whatever morale they might have. You’re going to have to be careful with them Captain, maybe get one of the locals to help.”

“One of the locals is exactly who I’m thinking of Commander.” I replied, my mind on Sala. “Our options are pretty slim down there, one of their representatives is in jail, the others a victim of what you just described to me. Somehow, we’re somehow supposed to help them come to an understanding with the people who have been mistreating them and successfully protect them from the very fate they fled from a year ago.” I put my mead in my hands, feeling the enormity of the responsibility being asked of me and uncaring of Commander Glov Gronnahk eyes on me at the moment.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out some miracle Captain.” He said after a beat. I looked up at him, shocked.

“What?”

“You call us engineer types miracle workers, which is true, but that's just balancing EPS flows and rerouting systems. The actual honest miracles I have seen in my long career have always come from Captains.” I couldn't tell if he was just saying this for my benefit, or if he actually meant it, but it was working. Commander Glov Gronnahk was a master of motivation, and I envied how easily inspiration came to him, compared to my stilted and overly direct speeches.

“Trust us, trust yourself and we’ll pull this off somehow, alright Captain? I didn’t believe him, but that wasn't worth getting into right now.

“Speaking of working miracles Commander, how long will it take you to inventory the transport inhibitors?” I said after a moment.

“Oh, I already have a team on it, I was just coming down to motivate them. I imagine they are close to done by now.” He was laughing again, that ass.

“Well, it seems like you have time for another assignment then. Some barbarians up in the quartermaster's office decided to remove all the rations I liked and replace them with,” I paused, gesturing to the emergency supply storage, “whatever the hell these are supposed to be. Clearly you know them, and we both know that this won't be the last time I’ll be doing this.” I smiled at him. “So, you're going to show me which of these dreadful earth foods are actually edible, so I don't end up eating garbage again.”

Fifteen minutes and another ration pack later, this time a spicy human dish called kafta, I walked back onto the bridge. I hadn't ended up sending the data packet, but I didn't care. A few minutes of quiet were more important than whatever I was going to end up sending to Starfleet. I quickly surveyed the bridge. Only Lieutenants Grolik and Phillips were at their stations. That tracked, I assumed my science and operations officer were busy in one of the labs working on whatever solutions they were going to bring me, and I had parted ways with Glov Gronnahk at the escape pods. He was likely headed for engineering or one of the cargo bays. I had slipped out first with him leaving a few minutes later. Starship rumors moved at warp ten and the last thing I needed was the crew gossiping about what appeared to be a secret rendezvous between the captain and chief engineer in an escape pod.

I sighed a bit of relief entering my mind. I had good officers, and I could trust them to come up with something. There was one thing still nagging at me though and I walked to stand behind Lieutenant Grolik.

“Any messages while I was off the bridge?”

“Yes ma’am, three from the colony administration and one from the Aurora.” I didn't care about whatever that planet was calling to gripe about now, but Cserr’s might be important. He called up the message on his screen. It was simple:

Orion crew evacuated to Aurora, ship unable to be repaired before arrival of hostile, moving to regroup with Resolute.

Good, at least our ships would be together. My fingers danced across his controls, typing out a return message:

Working on options, conference shortly. Would appreciate any input.

I hovered my finger over the send button before quickly adding stay safe to the end and then sending. Maybe both of our ships would be able to come up with something. Now for the worst part of any dangerous situation, the waiting. This was the part that broke more soldiers than actual combat. The time before where you had time to spiral in all the possible what ifs of your current situation. I had to use this time wisely, plan how I wanted to handle everything. Show the Klingons your strength. That had been drilled into us for the entire Klingon war. They are not unfeeling monsters despite what I had seen on the battlefield. Klingons just have a different system of values of morals from us the Starfleet Anthropologic Corps had repeated over again. We simply needed to meet them on their terms. Easier said than done.

“Captain the Klingons have entered communications range.” Lieutenant Grolik called over my shoulder. Ok time to show some strength.

“Open channels, wide band. I want the Klingons, the Orion’s and anyone else who might be out there to hear this.” I stood up from my chair and straightened my uniform before continuing. Show of strength.

“Klingon vessel, this is the Federation starship Resolute. Under no terms are you to cross the border or endanger any Federation lives or property. Failure to comply will be treated as an act of aggression and will be met with all available force. Signal your compliance and turn to course one four two mark eight to run parallel with the border.” I took a breath and waited. It was up to the Klingon Captain now. Suddenly the view screen crackled to life, and I was greeted with the snarling visage of who I assumed was the Klingon Captain. His appearance surprised me, gone was the smoothly shaved head that I was familiar with, and his armor looked nothing like the ornate plate they had worn during the war. Instead, he had long hair bundled up in a ponytail and a neatly trimmed goatee that framed his chin. In place of his war plate, he instead wore a gold tunic with a baldric across the chest to secure his bat’leth. The gold uniform rankled me, was this some kind of Klingon mockery, a parody of the new command gold of Starfleet? The warrior spoke in heavily accented Federation standard.

“Is that how you respond to a ship seeking to aid a friend in distress?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. This was not at all how I had expected a Klingon to return to my frankly, brazen opening. I was going to have to improvise. Taking a moment to get the quaver out of my voice I responded.

“The Orion ships have crossed over to the Federation side of the border. We are already rendering aid at this time. I repeat, do not under any circumstances cross the border.” I did my best to return some steel to my voice and planted both my feet on the deck. I didn't think I could intimidate this Klingon, but I could at least show that he did not intimidate me.

“I didn’t know Starfleet had experts in the workings of Orion war cores on their ships? Perhaps our aid isn't required then.” He replied, mockingly. Trying to goad me. I let him continue speaking.

“Or perhaps, we are interested as to why two Federation ships are operating so close to the border. You do see why this would make the High Command curious right?” There was an edge to his voice now, the question was as accusatory as it was genuine. “We would be happy to take over salvage operations of the stricken ship and repatriate the crew to Orion space for you at the very least. Once their ship was out of danger, there would be no reason for either of us to remain so close to the border.” This was a surprisingly reasonable proposition from a Klingon, and I did not like it. This was something someone like Decker or Pike would propose to a Klingon captain and it was genuinely off putting to hear that sentiment echoed from him. I mulled over the proposal momentarily while he continued speaking. “So, Captain, what do you say to my offer?” His face was split in a toothy grin.

“Federation presence along the border is not subject to the approval of Klingon High Command.” I replied, back ramrod straight and meeting his smile with a scowl of my own. “We have not violated your territory.” Show your strength, I was repeating to myself in my mind. He laughed loudly.

“No, they are not Captain, I was simply making an attempt at being polite. I have heard so many tales of how you Federation Captains attempt to solve everything by talking. It is a pleasure to meet one of you who cuts to the heart of the matter.” This must be an attempt to wrongfoot me, I surmised. I had never expected to be complimented by a Klingon Captain. He continued to grin as if waiting for me to dissuade him of his praise.

“We would be willing to discuss repatriation of the Orion crew and their vessel as long as you remain on your side of the border. This position is non negotiable, if you approach within two hundred thousand kilometers of the border you will be fired upon.” I had decided to try to keep a dialog open here. However, I had evidently chosen wrong as his face immediately lost all mirth. He growled.

“I have scanned your ships, I have fought both of their kind during T’kuvmas crusade. You are no match for the pride of the Imperial Navy. I would salute your courage if you stood against us and would enjoy sending you to Sto’vo’kor, but we all know you cannot back up your threats. I acknowledge your bravery in opposing us in this war of words, which is why I will allow my original offer to stand. It would be pointless to not agree.” He almost purred out his last sentence. I needed to regain the initiative in our verbal duel.

“So, if we allowed you to salvage the Orion ship and returned its crew to you, you would what? Leave the border in peace.” I needed to see if they would reveal anything about any designs they might have on the colony. The proximity of this top of the line ship had convinced me that this was a play for the Suliban, but I was missing a key part.

“Yes, we would Captain, assuming your ships moved on as well. Otherwise, we would be required to remain on station both to prevent you from interfering with Imperial commerce or engaging in espionage.” Not a useful answer and frustratingly close to the one I would have given were our roles reversed.

“Ma’am” Lieutenant Grolik spoke from behind me. I held up a fist to mute the channel before he continued. “It's the colony. They’ve just started broadcasting a general distress call, all channels, including the Klingon ones. The source isn’t any of our people either, it's coming from the colony directly!” My mind was racing, what could have made the colony possibly call for help? Our connection with the Klingon ship abruptly cut out evidently, they were receiving the distress call as well. “They’re saying the colony is experiencing a breakdown in law and order that the Federation has failed to contain. Captain they are asking for any nearby ships to assist.” He added with heavy emphasis on the word any. How could this have happened, had the Klingons managed to secret an agent on the planet to send the call, or had something happened since I had last spoken with them or the landing party? The Klingon Captain turned back to face me, and I signaled for the channel to un mute.

“Well Captain it appears we are clear to cross over into Federation space. Under the terms of your S.T.A.R treaty, we are answering the distress call of your colony, as you seem to be unable to assist them.” I could hear the scorn drip from his voice as he cited one of the Federations most important treaties. He was also correct, as the stipulations contained within it allowed him to cross our border to render aid. S.T.A.R guaranteed stellar freedom of movement but contained provisions requiring ships to assist with distress calls if possible and made it borderline illegal to interfere with one while it was rendering aid.

“Unless the Federations treaties are not worth the paper they are printed on? Will you defy the laws and regulations you claim to stand for and show us your courage?” He barked, with an almost feral glint in his eye. We needed time to regroup. It would be the end of my career if I interfered with a rescue sanctioned by the S.T.A.R treaty and would weaken the adherence of the treaty across the quadrant. Plus, I still had no idea who had sent the distress call or why. I slashed my thumb across my throat to close the call. This was all moving too fast.

“Lieutenant, advise the Aurora to make best speed back to the colony and tell the chief engineer to begin putting his plan into place.” I said quietly. This was already worse than I had imagined, and I was furious. If this was the colony selling out the Suliban, there wasn't a Starfleet regulation or directive that would stop me from throwing the entire colony’s administration in the brig. Well, if we still had a brig when the dust settled, but I had other things to focus on now. The Klingons would cross our border and put their ship within transporter range of the Suliban without us even firing a shot.