Of Martyrs and Men

Posted on Sat Mar 31st, 2018 @ 1:40pm by Fleet Admiral Donatella Figueroa & Lieutenant Junior Grade Ethan O'Donoghue

Mission: S01E02 D-8 With the Devil
Location: Boreth Klingon Shipyard

Boarding parties were being returned to the USS Musashi, a mission accomplished, but not entirely completed. The objectives had been met. The explosive charges had been planted, but the prototype battle cruiser remained. Detonation had been delayed due to rogue elements that Captain Figueroa had not accounted for. Her years of Starfleet experience had prepared her to think on her feet and to always expect the unexpected, that meant knowing that plans rarely ever went exactly as intended. This was no exception to that rule of thumb. Cadet Bartowski had been injured though most recent reports indicated that he would be fine and was safely in the hands of Musashi's medical staff. Nurse Aeryn Vinia was back aboard the Musashi by now assisting Doctor Ezikiel Hill, tending to Bartowski and any other wounded crew. Unfortunately, this mission was not without its losses. Crewmen Truff had been slain by Klingons while carrying out the mission. A loss that she would mourn when she was safely back aboard and in the privacy of her quarters. Right now, it was the rogue element that had captivated her mind.

Her breathing was slow and steady as she crept through the dark crevices of the Klingon shipyard. Come out come out wherever you are she thought to herself. It was reminding her of the days she when she was a young girl and a teenager, hunting with her dad and granddad. Though it was no pheasant, fowl, nor buck or fox that she was stalking with a hunting riffle. Her weapon was a Federation phaser riffle and she was hunting a person, though she was unsure of their intentions. A Klingon would want her dead. It was easy enough to understand that and to fire off a deadly point blank phaser blast, striking them dead. However, a fellow human? Somehow that made it far more difficult her to justify taking the life. She was not even sure that she had to take their life. It was the young man who had relentlessly daunted her since the moment he came aboard the Musashi. The silver-spoon blue blooded civilian fleet brat.

Commodore Cartwright's flesh and blood, strategic attache assigned to the USS Musashi for this mission. Fig had forbidden him from joining her on the boarding parties, but he had managed to slip away from the Bridge while Ke'gak had Commander Samuels distracted. Now, the younger Cartwright was running around the Klingon shipyard doing God knows what for whatever reason. It was becoming more and more apparent that his persistence on being part of the boarding parties was not for prestige nor to swoop in and reek the awards of a victory over the Klingon Empire. This was far beyond the actions of a little brat seeking his father's approval and the attention of others. Donatella did not believe that La'Quentin Cartwright had acted out of the thirst of a glory hound. It was something more...something deeper...something dark.

She had caught sight of him three or four times already, but several minutes had past since their last brush where she tried to stop him and ask questions only for him to rebuff her questions and fire a phaser at her. It was an intentional miss and she knew it. A warning shot to scare her away, the rattle of a rattle snack, not meant to do anything more than to issue a stern warning to back off and stay away. Tracking La'Quentin was not all that difficult. He was leaving a well marked trail of Klingon corpses wherever he went. Fig was beginning to consider that this 'civilian' was far more trained than she had initially believed. His Federation file was nothing noteworthy, a highly intelligent young man who attended the War College and earned himself a job with the Federation Department of Defense and work with Starfleet probably because of his father pulling strings. Strategic Attache. That's what he assigned to her as, but right now he was not providing her with answers or advice.

“STOP!” she shouted as she caught sight of him once more. “Damn it, I said STOP!” she continued chasing after him across a narrow catwalk. He did not respond to her. He did not slow. He crossed the catwalk, rounded a corner and shot down a small set of stairs that lead to the lower level. If pissing Fig off was part of La'Quentin's plans, then he was succeeding at that. Captain Donatella Figueroa was always in fine shape, but she was a few months pregnant and the extra baby weight was catching up to her. Nevertheless, she persisted in pursuit of him. The only problem was, La'Quentin had no intentions on letting her stop him.

She watched as he looked up at the catwalk and took aim with his phaser. Not at her, but just behind her where she once had been only several moments ago. “I have to do this Captain. It's our only hope. It is the only way” he said before taking a shot. His phaser blast hit the catwalk and destabilized it. Another shot that hit the right place and the catwalk was going to partially fall. “One prototype is not going to make a difference. They have worse things out there than the D-8” he said looking up at her.

The Captain took a deep breath. Don't do this. Don't make me she thought to herself. “We have fought with the Klingons before, La'Quentin. We will fight them again and we will win” she said confidently, though deep down she did have her own doubts on a Federation victory. “You have a lot to live for...if you want to stop the Klingons, then listen to me!” she said yelling at him. “This ends here, son. This ends now. Come back to Musahsi with me. We'll blow the prototype and get the schematics back to Starfleet Command. We will find a way to win this war if we cannot prevent it” she said with conviction in her tone.

For a moment it looked as though her words were settling in, but ultimately something within him shook him from her philosophical grip. “NO. NO. You cant” he said shaking his head. “You destroy that prototype and you only postpone the inevitable” he said standing his ground. “They are coming. The Klingons will destroy the Federation, but I can stop them. I WILL stop them” he added.

“By what, La'Quentin?” asked Fig. “What are you doing here? What are you trying to accomplish?” she inquired as she caught sight of a decent sized medical canister attached to his back, held in place, strapped to him. Inside the canister was something...a liquid maybe even a gas. She was not sure, but it had a strong iridescent glow almost as though molten opal.

He raised his phaser and took aim at the catwalk, right where it was barely being held together. “I will kill you if I have to” he said without any sign of hesitation. He meant those words and Fig could feel them like knives filleting her. He would kill her. He was going to do it if she tried to stop him. La'Quentin knew that she had seen the canister. “Boreth is more than just an ancient Klingon world, Captain Figueroa. It has more than a simple reverence to it. They may have shipyards and outposts, stations, and battle cruisers extending throughout their great empire...but Boreth is their soul. Boreth is where they are weakest and susceptible. You want to know how to prevent a war? You end it before it can begin. You don't put out the flame, you remove the wick” he said coldly.

She let his words sink in and freeze her heart. It was chilling. These were not words an officer of Starfleet would ever dare utter even if they felt a strong hatred towards the Klingon savages. Even she did not hold this much hatred in her. “My God La'Quentin. You are talking about genocide” she said, her mouth hung ajar. “Starfleet would never approve of this. The Federation would never stand for it” she said in strong protest.

He scoffed at her. “You're right. They wouldn't, but someone would. Someone who has the best interest of Federation survival. There's darker corners of the Federation than Starfleet even dares to admit. You can't stop me Captain. You can't and you won't because I've already won. The Federation will endure, the Klingons will be no more, and I will have sacrificed my life...I will die a martyr for my people. The Federation will be Great Again” he said as he backed away from the catwalk.

We're in the weapons bay thought Fig. She saw him backing towards a torpedo tube. She may not have known exactly what was in that canister, but it was not good. He was targeting Boreth. He was going to load that canister into a torpedo casing, arm the casing into a tube and launch it into Boreth's atmosphere annihilating Klingon life. “DON'T” said Fig shaking her head. Her hands were trembling when she brought her phaser riffle upward and had him in the cross hairs. “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; Only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate...” she began reciting great words from a martyr known on Earth.

La'Quentin had loaded the canister into the torpedo casing and was about to press a control to slide the torpedo into the launch tube. “It is the cause, not the death that makes a martyr” he said looking up at her.

Captain Figueroa shook her head. “You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become a villain, La'Quentin. Maybe you can live with yourself becoming a villain, but I will never allow your father nor family the pain of knowing the cruelty in your heart and the betrayal of your faith” the Captain said as La'Quentin turned. His back towards her as he reached for the control to condemned the Klingon civilization for a fate worse than death.

She steadied her breathing and closed her eyes as she brought the riffle level to take the cleanest shot she had ever taken in her life, and yet it was the most difficult shot she had ever taken. Her riffle was set to kill. It would not be merciful. Fig squeezed. The weapon launch a powerful blast, the riffle had a strong kickback with the energy spent from it. This close of a range and with a shot of that magnitude set to kill. He stood no chance of survival. His skull, what was left of it fell with the rest of his dead weight to the floor.
report
It was then that she sensed she was not alone. The Captain turned to see that on the other side of the catwalk was a member of her crew. “EJ” she muttered under her breath. She did know what he had heard or seen, but she was certain that he had been present for the last moment. She was worried that his perception of events would be that he had witnessed his Captain executing a Commodore's son.

She quickly changed the riffle setting to stun. Worried that she had caught herself up in a misunderstanding, she swung the riffle around. "Ensign, you don't understand" she said immediately. Still unsure as to how long he had been present and what he had bore witness to.

EJ Walked out of the shadows "Captain I think I have pretty good grasp on what just happened" he wasn't armed nor was he going to be this situation did not warrant him being armed " If it helps, given the circumstances capt I would have done the same" He said stepping further out onto the cat walk "He was a threat, a big threat take out the fact he was a commodores son" He said breathing in "He was what could classed as a domestic terrorist" he was now fully in the light "I never trusted him" He said walking out to meet his captain he walked over to her "You may have killed someone, but he threatened life, as much as I hate admitting I agreed on some part with him" he said breathing again "Genocide should never be a damn option" Captain Figureoa was like a mother to him and no matter what he would protect her as if she was his own mother "He was a domestic terrorist capt, you put a stop to it" He said gulping stepping further forward "In your official report what your going to say is that I beamed down and in cold blood took my phaser and fired on him" he said crossing his arms "In order to protect you and the crew from any further harm but also to stop the mass genocide of an entire race of people" He said knowing full well what would happen to him "Gods be damned on the punishment" he said slightly laughing "We cant have you implicated in this" he said with a stern but protective look in his eyes.

EJ she thought. Her heart just sank. It was all true about La'Quentin, but to the extent that EJ wanted to sacrifice himself for her career...that was far too much. Fig had lowered her weapon by now. She was in no danger from EJ. ''Ensign, do not be absurd. I am not about to let you throw away your career for me. You're a selfless idiot, EJ'' she said shaking her head.

She looked down at Cartwright's lifeless body. ''You were never here. You arrived to only find La'Quentin Cartwright killed and a Klingon wasted away. La'Quentin killed the Klingon to save me and gave his life. I retaliated by killing the Klingon'' explained the Captain. ''EJ, we cannot let anyone know what happened here. La'Quentin has to have died a hero to the Federation, trying to preserve the peace and prevent a war'.'

EJ face was that of protection "Understood captain" he said as he walked over to her "Lets get off this god forsaken rock and get back to the Mushai" he said turning around and going towards the shuttle he had commandeered to get down "You look like you need a drink" He said smiling as he walked a bit further.

"Virginal" she replied to the ensign. "Oh Not you" she added quickly. "The drink. I have to stay away from the good stuff until this little guy or girl is out of me" she explained. "Though I agree. Let's get the hell out of here and blow that prototype."

She walked down the steps and opened the torpedo casing. "We cannot leave this behind" said Fig, tucking the canister underneath her arm and walking back up to the catwalk to stand with EJ. She handed the canister over to him. "Just don't drop it. I am not sure what is in there, but I want to see to it that it is properly disposed of" she stated with a nod. The Captain took out her communicator and flipped it open, her riffle securely on her back. "Figueroa to Musashi. Two ready for transport...energize" she ordered taking a deep breath as the shimmering transporter effect came over her and Ensign O'Donoghue.