INDEPENDENCE: THE FIRST ADVENTURE

 

"Diiiiis...missed!"

The cadets of Raven squad stood and stretched their legs. This lecture, by captain Matthews, had been particularly long and complicated - but it was the last of the day. The cadets scattered, as exchanges of greetings were exchanged.

McKeon, a young man assigned to the engineering department, put his hand on Mackenzie Calhoun's shoulder.

"Going to the bar tonight, Mac?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll just catch up on some reading. That exam on temporal physics is murder. I'm just not used to think that way."

"All you have to do is think of time as a machine, Mac. That's all there is to it."

"For you, maybe. I'm leaning towards..."

Captain Matthews, who called from the podium, interrupted the conversation:

"Mr. Calhoun? Please remain a moment!"

Calhoun and McKeon exchanged looks. Was he in trouble?

McKeon waved a silent goodbye, and strode out of the classroom. Calhoun noticed one of the female cadets, another engineering student, was following McKeon with her eyes, and smiling a shy, girlish smile.

"She's got a crush on you, McKeon, and you would know it if you had any kind of emotion in your machine-mind!", he thought, before the classroom was empty, and captain Matthews waved him closer to the podium.

"I suppose, you are wondering, what is keeping your second in command?", he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

"Why...yes, Sir.", Calhoun replied. It was not like Leonard to be late for class.

"There was...an accident in the transporter centre yesterday. The pattern buffer overloaded, and...well....I'm afraid Mr. Ruako was transporting over to the Lexington at the time. What arrived on their transporter pad did not survive long...thankfully."

Calhoun felt the world spinning around him. Leonard Ruako was more than his second in command in the simulations...he was his friend. Aside from McKeon, maybe the only REAL friend he had in Raven Squad.

"I realize, that this must be a great shock to you, Mr. Calhoun. And under normal circumstances, I would recommend for you to take a vacation - but at the moment, that is not possible."

"Why not, Sir?"

"Because...and this is strictly confidential, Calhoun - you are getting a ship."

"A ship? You mean, the crew will be sent on a cadet cruise?"

"In a sense, yes. But not the kind of cruise, you are thinking of. In 3 weeks, you will be given command of the USS Independence, a Steamrunner class cruiser. You will BE the crew - supervised by a group of censors, including myself and commodore K'Tharg. And you will be the captain, Mr. Calhoun!"

The world snapped back into focus for Calhoun.

"I...I don't know what to say, Sir....Thank you."

Matthews smiled.

"That's quite all right. Don't thank me - thank the academy. It was their decision. But now, here is the real reason, that you can not take a vacation: You and I are going to Deep Space 9 to pick up your new second in command."

"New? But, Sir...can't I pick someone from my own crew - like McKeon? Someone I have worked with before?"

"That would be great, Mr. Calhoun, but that is unfortunately not an option. The commodore has decided, that your Number One must be from outside of Raven Squad. Her name is Jennifer Glenn - here is her personal file."

Matthews handed Calhoun a PADD.

"Read it, and meat me at the shuttle pads at 0800. Dismissed!"

Calhoun walked slowly out of the classroom, while his thoughts flew around to all manner of different subjects. Leonard...his new ship...and Jennifer Glenn. He looked at the file on the PADD.

She looked very pretty...beautiful, in fact.

Maybe it was not such a bad thing after all...but Leonard....

He hurried to his quarters - not so much to follow the order to study the file, as so he did not have to cry in public. After all, he was a captain now - a real captain. And captains did not show their emotions to their crew, or so he was told.

It was going to be hard.

 

After the uneventful flight by runabout do DS9, captain Mackenzie Calhoun and captain Matthews stepped out from the airlock onto the promenade. Lots of people  - humans, Bajorans and hundreds of others - hurried by in all directions, busy with this and that. The merchants stood in their shops servicing their customers, or stood in the door waiting for new business. Calhoun had never been to this station before, and he looked around with hungry eyes, wanting to see everything.

He had grown up on a rather primitive planet in the farthest rim of the Federation, and until he joined Starfleet, he had not seen an alien, much less a spaceship. That had changed, when commander Christine Macdonald and her ship, USS Tobias had visited his world on a diplomatic mission. The young man who then bore the name M'K'N'Z of Calhoun (Mackenzie was the closest human pronounceable sound) was so impressed with these strangers that he decided to join them. He could do this with relative ease - the war, that had been tearing his planet apart for years had been won, and for a large extent thanks to him - and he had no parents. Only his brother, D'N'D'EI, had objected, and that ended as soon as he realized he would become leader upon M'K'N'Z' s leave.

He had sucked the wonders of the galaxy in with huge, staring eyes. He was getting better at it now - he did not look QUITE as much as a village idiot - but he was still easily impressed by large space constructions and large crowds of aliens.

Captain Matthews pulled on his tunic.

"Let's go, Calhoun. I've set up a meeting with miss Glenn in the bar."

They went though the doors to the bar, and found a table in a quiet corner.

While Matthews instructed a man posted at the door to keep an eye out for a young Starfleet ensign, and send her directly to their table, a ferengi came up to the table with a tray full of drinks.

"You're in the wrong uniform, young man!", the ferengi said, looking at Calhoun. He immediately took his hand up to his collar. He was still wearing the captain's pips, his new rank entitled him to. Captain Matthews had told him to remove it, but he had forgotten it in all the excitement - and besides, he was so damn proud of it. After all, he had beaten Jim Kirk by a good 10 years.

"It's just...it's just a training shirt. My rank is lieutenant. I just forgot to change...."

The ferengi nodded, and bared his teeth.

"Riiiight, young man, if you say so. But you are still to young to drink anything stronger than argalian tea in this bar. I don't want any trouble with a REAL captain!"

Calhoun took the glass offered to him, and mumbled something in reply. The ferengi left him, and Matthews returned.

"What was that all about? And why are you drinking tea?"

"Don't ask, Sir. Just...don't ask."

 

Jennifer Glenn arrived in the bar with a rather nervous demeanour, and her eyes widened even more at the sign of the young man seated next to captain Matthews. She had done some checking up, after she had received the orders for her transfer (They simply stated: REPORT TO CAPTAIN MATTHEWS AND CAPTAIN CALHOUN IN QUARK'S BAR, DEEP SPACE 9 AT STARDATE 52312.1) and even though she could find an extensive biography on Matthews, nothing came up on captain Calhoun. This had peaked her interest, but despite an extensive search, nothing came up.

As a result, she was quite nervous, when the bajoran security man at the door told her to go to the table in the corner - where the captain was expecting her. She was, however, not prepared for a boy of about 19, wearing a captains uniform, sitting next to Matthews.

"Sir....umm, Sirs...Ensign Glenn reporting as ordered."

The two men looked up at her.

"Excellent!", captain Matthews said, and pulled out a chair for her, "Please join us, ensign."

Still puzzled, Glenn sat down, and folded her hands on the table.

"Miss Glenn, I'd like you to meet your new commanding officer, captain Mackenzie Calhoun!", Matthews said, going straight to the point.

Calhoun continued: "We are part of an elite Starfleet unit of cadets, called Raven Squad. Only the best of the best is selected, and you are one of them. As of this moment, you are granted the promotion to commander, with all the rights and privileges of that rank - at least within Raven Squad."
"Why me?", was all Glenn could manage to say.

"Because you are the best at what you do", Matthews said, "And because we are short of a first officer. We had an accident, and someone higher than us in the hierarchy of Starfleet pointed to you as replacement. You have very powerful backers, apparently."

"You want me to be first officer...on what? A shuttlecraft? Or that ship that's cruising around the Earth Solar system?"

"Not exactly. We are commissioning a new ship in a few weeks, a Steamrunner class ship - the USS Independence. Raven Squad will be the crew, Mr. Calhoun will be it's captain. Will you consider taking the position of first officer?"

Glenn hesitated for barely a second: "Are you kidding? Of course I'll take it!"

Matthews smiled broadly.

"Excellent! Now let us...."

His combadge interrupted him with a beep. He slapped it.

"Matthews here!"

"Sir, this is Ops. We have a secure transmission for you on a coded subspace channel."

"I'll be right there. Mr. Calhoun, please take miss Glenn to our runabout, and give her the full briefing in private. I'll join you shortly."

"Aye, Sir."

Matthews left the table, and the two young officers stood up.

"Do you have any luggage?", Calhoun asked.

"Just these two suitcases...and oh, yeah, my collection."

"I'll give you a hand with it, where is it?"

"No offence mr.Calhoun, but I don't think you can lift it. It weighs the most of 500 kilograms. It's a collection of spirits and liquor from around the galaxy. I usually keep it in a cargo bay."

"Fine, we'll have the cargo master beam it aboard the shuttle. Follow me, I'll show you where we parked."

 

When captain Matthews returned to the shuttle, his face was dark and serious.

"Mr. Calhoun, miss Glenn - I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to continue without me. A situation has come to my attention, which will have to be dealt with immediately. Can you two handle a ride home alone?"

Calhoun, who had been filling Glenn on the Independence's specs and the mission parameters, stood to attention. Glenn did the same.

"Sir, if we are to work together as captain and first officer, we should be able to handle a ride home in a runabout in friendly territory. It will not be a problem."

"Glad to hear it. Commander Glenn, I have just seen the cargo master close the loading hatch on the way in - it seems you luggage is aboard. You had better take off at once."

"Aye, Sir."

Captain Matthews left the runabout, and Glenn closed the door behind him

Calhoun brought the engines online, and hailed the operations centre.

"This is the runabout Banting, requesting permission to disembark!"

"Acknowledged, Banting. You are clear to depart. Bon voyage."

Calhoun turned to Glenn.

"Will you take the helm, or should I?"

Glenn looked back at him, smiling.

"Is that a request, captain? Playing it soft?"

"I can order you to do it, if that's more to your liking."

"I'll be fine. Move over."

Glenn slid in behind the controls, and the runabout rose up from the landing platform. For a moment it hovered in space, the impulse engines glowing. Then it tipped over, sped up and vanished in a vertical explosion of light.

 

"Mac, I'm reading a ship at bearing six-five-six, on an intercept course!"

Glenn's voice broke the monotony of the travel, which for a few hours had been quiet. Glenn and Calhoun had told each other their various life stories, told a few jokes and had a few laughs. They had even gotten on a first name basis, and shortening it down to "Mac" and "Jen". But sooner or later, every long journey becomes quiet. Calhoun had excused himself, and went to his bunk to catch a few hours sleep. Glenn sat with her feet up on the consol with a pad in her lap, reading an old earth novel by Agatha Christie, when the sensors alerted her to the approaching ship. She snapped back to full officer mode at once.

Calhoun rose from his bunk, and walked to the pilot seat.

"Report!"

"It came up on the sensors just a moment ago. It's on an intercept course, and it's flooding us with sensor signals."

"Can you get any readings from it? Like, what kind of ship it is."

"Judging from the speed, the signal strength and wavelength and the image profile...it's a Breen warship."

Calhoun leaned forward and studied the sensor display.

"Breen? So deep in federation space? They must be pretty damn desperate. All right, let's see, if we can't avoid them. What are the options in this place?"

"Well, we're 2 days from the closest outpost - the nearest is DS9, where we came from - and to return, we'll have to go past the Breen."

"All right, Jen. Here's the plan: Take us back to DS9, but on a large curve. We'll link the helm and the sensors, and make the computer take over the helm. When the sensors catch a glimpse of the Breen ship, the computer will automatically correct the course, so we'll avoid them.  Can we hail DS9?"

"I already tried that. The Breen must be using a broad spectrum jamming system, because nothing is getting through."

"OK, let's move. You'll handle the sensors, I'll take care of the helm. Then all we can do is pray they're not looking very hard."

 

For 2 hours, the plan seemed to work. The Breen ship stayed in the outer rim of sensor contact, and the helm made small corrections to their course to avoid it.

Then, Suddenly, Glenn reported:

"They just came into full focus! They are right in front of us, and closing fast! And they are blocking our course!"

Calhoun punched a few controls, and the runabout lurched to starboard.

"Switching to manual control!", he exclaimed, rather unnecessary.

 The Breen ship came into visual range, quickly filling the wiewport. It seemed to be the size of a small moon...but that was probably just a trick of the light.

"Commander, take tactical!", Calhoun shouted, "We have to outmanoeuvre these bastards!"

"Aye, captain!"

Glenn punched the tactical controls, and phaser beams lanced out from the Banting, glowing a cool blue colour.

The Breen ship was both larger and more powerful than the Banting, and the phaser beams hardly made a dent in their shields. But when they fired back, they hit a lot harder.

The Banting shook, as the Breen torpedoes struck the small ship, and warning lights began to flicker on the consoles.

"Weapons are off line!", Glenn shouted to be heard over the alarms, "Warp core took heavy damage. Magnetic constrictors are holding...but not for long!"

Calhoun looked up at her, his eyes burning with a violet glow.

"Are the transporters still functioning?"

"Yes, but..."

"All right, commander, here's the plan: I want you to beam 4 torpedoes from the storage out into space in front of the Breen ship. Then, I want you to beam back the torpedoes...JUST the torpedoes. Not the antimatter! Do you understand?"

"I understand! Commencing transport!"

Glenn's hands flew over the consol, punching in commands, until she reported:

"Torpedoes are beamed back again - and the antimatter left behind. But now what?"

"Now...we cover our eyes!"

The words had barely left his lips, before an gigantic explosion rippled across the wiewport. Both Calhoun and Glenn held their hands up to cover their eyes, but even through closed lids, fingers and the wiewport’s light-dimming safeguards, the light was blinding. The blast threw the Banting around like a leaf in a windstorm, and the two young officers fell to the deck.

Slowly, the light faded, and Glenn sat up, shaking her head. Calhoun was clinging to a chair, struggling to get into the pilot seat.

“What happened, Mac?”, Glenn asked, her voice still shaking.

“The Breen ship collided with something in the area of 4 kilos of antimatter. That kind of thing can take out a whole Klingon warfleet! I tried it in the simulator in the academy – when I took the Kobiashi Maru test. I always wanted to try that in real life!”

“Did it work? Are the Breen gone?”

Calhoun checked the instruments, and shook his head.

“Unfortunately not. Looks like the ship had some kind of metaphasic shielding to protect it from antimatter damage. It took heavy damage, and it’s not going anywhere for a while…but they are still in the game. Do we have warp?”

“Barely.”

“I’ll take it. Best speed for Deep Space 9, commander. Engage!”

The Banting flew past the crippled Breen ship, and vanished into warp space.

 

“Well, that’s it for the impulse engines.”

Glenn crawled out from the small engineering compartment, and dried her forehead with her uniform sleeve.

“What’s the news?” Calhoun, who had been working on the warp core, looked at her inquisitively.

“The impulse is running at 40 %. That’s the best I can give you. Phasers are offline for good, replicators just about shot and the comm system is shot to hell. But otherwise, we’re fine.”

“I’ve been tinkering with the warp core. It’s not really my area of expertise, but at least we’re not going to blow up in the near future.”

Glenn sat on one of the bunks.

“This is just great. My first promotion, and I’m going to die on the way to the first mission!”

“We’re not all dead yet, Jen. I’ve got a plan. We’ve still got impulse, and Starfleet know where we are supposed to be. When we fail to report in, they’ll look for us. And meanwhile, there’s plenty of emergency rations!”

He smiled, and offered her a flat metal case, full of protein sticks. “You get to like them, eventually.”

Glen took the case, and began eating one of the sticks.

“Tell me again, why you collects spirits”, Calhoun said, leaning back and stretching his back.

“Why? I told you a few days ago.”

“Humour me. I like a recurring story.”

“All right, I was born on a rather small planet – everybody knew everybody. My parents ran the local bar, and since I was very young, I spent a lot of time in the bar as well. At first, I just sat and looked, while my dad mixed drinks, but later I got to try it myself. It became a hobby of mine. And since I never liked synthehol…I started buying real liquor, when I could get my hands on it. It became rather a lot, really. At the academy, I was very popular at the parties, because I could make very special drinks. Then I got assigned to the Roderick, and…well, now I’m in this runabout with you. Life plays funny tricks on you.”

She looked at Calhoun, who had fallen asleep, his face looking strangely peaceful despite the large scar on the side of his cheek.

She looked at him for a moment, then she lay down herself. She would close her eyes, just for a second….

 

“WARNING! PROXIMITY ALERT! BREEN SHIP IS WITHIN SENSOR RANGE! ENGINES UNABLE TO PERFORM PREPROGRAMMED COURSE CORRECTIONS!”

Calhoun and Glenn both jumped from their bunks, almost tripping over their own legs to get to the pilot seat. On the sensors was the Breen ship, and it was closing fast.

“I have a plan. Jen, get in the back, and prepare to dump the warp core!”

“WHAT?

“If they detect a warp core explosion, they will think we were destroyed. Maybe they will stop looking for us, and we can wait until Starfleet finds us.”

“But even without the warp core, they can still se us on sensors.”

“No, because we’ll power down to minimal. Run silent, run deep, as the old word goes. And with any luck, they’ll leave before long.”

“I guess luck follows the fools…and you are one of the biggest, I’ve yet to meet, Mac!”

“I appreciate the compliment, commander. Now get on that warp core!”

Glenn ran to the warp core, quickly set it for detonation in 5 minutes, and punched in the commands to beam the core out of the runabout. Then, at impulse, the Banting flew for safety.

It did not take long, before the core blew up. At the same second, Calhoun took the ships power off line, and shut down every power system, even the running lights. The Banting became a black spot on a black sky, and the two young officers crossed their fingers and hoped for the best.

Within a few minutes, the Breen ship arrived on the scene, and began scanning the blast site methodically.

Calhoun and Glenn watched through the wiewport, only configured for visual observation – essentially, a window to look out through.

“They are being pretty damn thorough, considering it’s just a runabout, they’re searching for!”, Calhoun commented, as the Breen ship made another sensor sweep.

“Maybe they took that thing with the antimatter personally?” Glenn mused.

“We’ll need a backup plan, in case they find us, Mac. They can't just capture us. I think, I’d rather slit my throat than be the prisoner of the Breen!”

“I agree, and I think I know the answer. We still have torpedo launchers operational, right?”

“Right, and 8 torpedoes. But I don’t think they’ll fall for the same trick twice.”

“We are not going to use the same trick. If they find us, we’ll fire a full spread of torpedoes. The whole damn thing. But in two of the torpedoes, there will be no detonators. There will be…us!”

“Us? In a torpedo?”

“Why not? It’s warp capable, it’s airtight and relatively comfortable. I’ve heard of the Klingons using torpedoes to bring important agents across safely guarded territories. We’ll have to wear life support gear…but that’s not a problem. We have space suits in the back.”

“I can't believe I’m even saying this, but…it sounds like a good plan!”

“Then let’s get to work. Better safe, than sorry.”

Within minutes, they had programmed the torpedoes guidance systems to take them to the nearest M-class planet. From there, they could contact Starfleet, when the Breen decided to leave.

They had barely finished the programming, before the familiar shudder of a tractor beam shook the ship. Outside the wiewport, the enormous Breen ship loomed like a giant praying mantis.

“In the torpedo! I’ll set the manual release!”, Calhoun shouted, and bolted for the tactical station. He pushed the manual fire button, and then jumped into his own torpedo. He saw Glenn’s torpedo vanish out the tube.

He barely had time to put on the oxygen mask, before his own torpedo fired. The pressure was excruciating, and he forced himself to breathe, even if his chest was being pushed out through his back….

Except it was not.

There was no pressure. None at all.

Then a sound came outside the torpedo. Footsteps.

“The Breen! They saw through the trick! Oh, well. I’ll go down fighting, at least!”

But it was not the Breen. The face, that opened the torpedo casing, was captain Matthews.

Calhoun sat up, looking around. Not a meter from him, he saw Glenn doing the same. And around them…

It was the familiar yellow on black grid of a starfleet holodeck.

Glenn had come to the same conclusion as himself. She was on her feet, and looking at Matthews with a dangerous look in her eyes.

“A HOLODECK! This was all a trick!”

Captain Matthews looked at her, both apologetic and amused.

“Yes, commander. A test. We had to make sure, that you and captain Calhoun could work together under difficult circumstances. The rest of Raven Squad trained together for 3 years – we had to make sure, you’d fit in.”

“FIT IN?”

Calhoun placed a hand on Glenn’s arm.

“I think, Glenn speaks for me as well, Sir. This seems a bit…unfair.”

“Life is not always fair, Calhoun. Remember that, and you might live longer. Now, the REAL trip home to the academy begins tomorrow. You can spend the night here on the Roderick, or you can get quarters on DS9. Which would you like?”

Calhoun looked around.

“I think, I’d like to stay here on the ship. Is there any way, I can use this holodeck for a while, Sir?”

“Of course. I’ll se you at 0800 hours in the shuttle bay. Dismissed!”

Matthews turned and walked out of the holodeck.

Glenn and Calhoun looked at each other.

“So…you want to get something to eat?”, Glenn asked, wiping her sweaty hair away from her face.

“Not right now. I think, I need to let out some steam. You want to join me?”

“That depends on what your definition of “letting of steam” is.”

“I’ll show you. Computer, create a bastard sword!”

Obediently, the computer created a sword at Calhoun’s feat.

“Now…interface with the runabout Banting, and download holodeck program Calhoun exercise one!”

The holodeck responded with a beep, and suddenly, they were standing on a battlefield, where men in ancient armours fought hand to hand.

“The battle of Agincourt. An ancient Earth battle. I’m going to kill some Englishmen. You want to come?”

Glenn shook her head slowly.

“Nahhhh…I’ll take a rain check, OK?”

“Suit yourself. See you tomorrow. Raaakaaaash!"

Calhoun lifted the sword and ran towards the two armies, swinging it over his head.

Glenn shook her head, and left the holodeck.

She could sense, that this assignment was going to be very different from most other, she had tried.

 

 

And she could not have been more right.