Plan Z

Posted on 07 Jan 2020 @ 1:32am by Commander Rhyan & Lieutenant JG Aeryn Zal

1,806 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Empty Creche
Location: USS Nova, Bridge
Timeline: ED2: 0200

Aeryn watched from the rear of the bridge as the rust-coloured sphere of Mars disappeared from the main viewscreen, marking the Nova’s final approach to Earth. Sitting in the captain’s chair was Commander Ferguson, with Commander Rhyan forcibly occupying what would normally be the executive officer’s station. Said executive officer, a towering Tellarite male, was currently hovering near Aeryn’s position, making her feel as though she were under guard. It was not a comfortable feeling on board a Starfleet vessel.

Since their arrival on board the Nova Aeryn had sensed a high level of tension between Rhyan and Ferguson; they were familiars, although the exact nature of their dislike for one another was oblivious to her. Shortly after their arrival Ferguson had ordered Rhyan and herself into his ready room, demanding a full explanation behind the Andorian’s attack on his vessel. Rhyan, in his usual abrupt manner, told Ferguson only what he needed to know to convince him to take them immediately to Earth. It probably helped that the Vulcan mentioned Admiral Ashcart’s name on at least seven separate occasions during their, at times, heated discussion.

Ferguson clearly had no love for the Admiral either.

“Commander,” the helm officer announced to the bridge crew. Both Rhyan and Ferguson leaned forward in their chairs. It was no secret that Rhyan had once, albeit briefly, commanded the Nova, and his behaviour reflected the familiarity he had with the ship and its crew. The helm officer, a human female that Aeryn almost recognised, possibly from her Academy days, continued. “We will assume orbital velocity around Earth within the next five minutes. Your orders when we arrive?”

Ferguson glanced briefly at Rhyan and then returned his attention to the helm officer. “Ensign, assume a geosynchronous orbit above Starfleet Command. Also,” he glared almost menacingly at Rhyan, “signal space dock that we will need to put in for repairs after our encounter with the Confederacy vessel.”

“Aye, sir,” the ensign responded, her fingers dancing over the helm console to the tune of her commander’s orders.

A wave of relief swelled up in Aeryn’s stomach when she realised that they were finally safe from harm. The Confederacy had done everything in their power to prevent she and Rhyan from reaching the President, but as the small blue marble on the viewscreen expanded to reveal Earth, she knew that not even the rebel Andorians would risk attacking them this close to the heart of the Federation.

Relief then became subsumed by a new concern: the anti-virus that she and Rhyan had devised to cure President Zal had been completely destroyed when the Aoraki was attacked. Aeryn raised one of her slender fingers so that it caressed the location on her neck where she’d injected herself with the anti-virus to test its safety for use on the President. As her fingertips touched the skin above her carotid, she could feel that the rash that had appeared on the Aoraki had now completely resolved. The anti-virus, for all its potential, was clearly safe for use on a Trill patient – an un-joined Trill, at the very least.

As a part of the heated exchange between the two commanders earlier in the ready room, Rhyan had instructed Ferguson to contact the Redemption so that all of their research could be uplinked to the Nova’s computer banks. With some, gentle, persuasion Ferguson had attempted to connect to the Redemption via sub-space, however no response from their ship could be found. That could mean only one of two things: The Confederacy was jamming their attempts to reach the Redemption, or the Redemption had befallen an unfortunate fate while on its mission to rescue the children kidnapped from Earth.

“Lieutenant Tigan,” Rhyan said as he pushed himself up from his chair and motioned to the rear of the bridge to join her. “I think it is about time we made our way back to the transporter room.”

Aeryn locked eyes with her superior and nodded back to him in affirmation. She couldn’t help but notice the steely resolve in the Vulcan’s eyes, his desire to save President Zal obvious to the young Trill. She shared some of that resolve, even though they had very little with which to treat Zal when they beamed down. Their only hope would be for Starfleet Medical to siphon off any residual anti-virus from Aeryn’s blood stream and backwards-engineer something similar to use on the President.

That’s if the President was still alive by the time they made it to Starfleet Medical.

Rhyan stepped into a waiting turbolift and Aeryn followed him. As she turned to face outwards towards the bridge, Aeryn found Ferguson in front of her on the other side of the turbolift’s threshold. She would be lying if his mere presence didn’t make her uneasy.

“Will I ever find out exactly what this was all about,” boomed Ferguson in the direction of Commander Rhyan. His eyes narrowed as he spoke, revealing that he already knew what Rhyan’s answer would be.

Rhyan smirked beside Aeryn. “You work for Starfleet Intelligence, go ask your superiors.” With that comment the turbolift door closed and the cabin made its brief journey downwards by three decks to take them to the transporter room.

“Commander,” Aeryn said, preparing to ask the one question neither of them had dared speak before now. “What are we going to do when we get to Starfleet Medical?”

The commander let out a breath of air, as close to a sigh as Aeryn believed the Vulcan capable of. “I haven’t figured that one out yet, Lieutenant.”

“I feared you might say that,” she replied, honestly. “I have been wracking my brain for the last couple of hours, and besides starting from the beginning again I can only suggest donating my own blood to Starfleet Medical in the hopes that they can synthesise a new anti-virus from whatever is left within me.”

The turbolift stopped and the doors parted into a corridor. Rhyan took the lead, clearly familiar with where he was going. “I had given that some thought, also.” Rhyan continued to look directly ahead as he spoke, giving nothing of his thoughts away to Aeryn. “I am just not sure how easy it would be for medical to replicate the anti-virus using that method. Our best hope is-”

“Is to get in contact with the Redemption. I know. I know.” Aeryn completed the Commander’s sentence, reassured that they were having the same thoughts about their problem.

Concern started to give way to frustration. Aeryn had barely had a moment to consider that all their hard work had basically been eliminated by the Confederacy of the Underdark through one swift, and effective, attack. She crushed the swell of anger before it could take a hold on her.

They arrived at the transporter room.

“When I last spoke with Lieutenant Johnston,” Rhyan began, referring to President Zal’s personal guard, “he said that time was running out. That was nearly two hours ago, and I can’t help but fear the worst.”

“It can’t possibly end like this, can it?” Asked Aeryn, lamenting the fact that the United Federation of Planets was potentially facing its second successful Presidential assassination in under two years. Nobody, not even the cold-hearted Vulcan or, bravest of Andorians, would even consider putting themselves forward for the job after this. It would be perceived as little more than suicide.

Aeryn stepped on to the transporter pad first and was joined a moment later by Rhyan. They stood almost to attention, waiting for the Nova to make its final approach to Earth before they could beam down. By her estimates there was still a good sixty to ninety seconds before transport would be possible.

As they waited a nervous energy washed over Aeryn, fuelled by the anticipation for what she and the Commander would be greeted with when they arrived in San Francisco. Not only did she fear the imminent death of the Federation President, a woman of the highest integrity and standing, but on a more personal note Aeryn feared the death of the Zal symbiont.

It was the elephant in the room. An unspoken truth. There were two beings at risk from the Confederacy’s virus: the host known as Elesa, and the symbiont known as Zal. Aeryn’s research on board the Redemption showed a promising outcome for both host and symbiont when they were administered the anti-virus. However, without the anti-virus it was likely that both entities would succumb to the disease and perish.

The truth was that, for all intents and purposes, Zal would die with Elesa. As a Trill, albeit one who never had any desire to be joined, that simple fact pained Aeryn deeply. All those memories, all that knowledge, gone.

She couldn’t let that happen.

She wouldn’t let it happen.

“Sir,” the transporter technician called out, “Commander Ferguson has signalled that we are safely in Earth orbit. You are free to transport to the surface.”

“Thank you, chief,” replied the Vulcan. He inhaled deeply, which Aeryn expected to be followed up by the order to transport – however Rhyan hesitated. The commander turned around to his subordinate and looked painfully into her eyes. There was something more that he wanted to communicate, although Aeryn interpreted his hesitation to mean that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

“Lieutenant,” he said, his voice strong, but wavering slightly in advance of what was to come. “There is one more option. Let’s call it a possible outcome, one that we should consider preparing for. A Plan C. Or Plan D.”

“Plan Z?” Aeryn said, chuckling nervously. Something about the way that Rhyan was speaking to her made her uneasy.

“Plan Z works for me,” the commander said in response, diverting his gaze away from the lieutenant and on to the transporter technician in attendance. Rhyan leaned in closer to Aeryn, his voice dropping to an almost-whisper as he revealed his newly-formed thoughts to her, and her alone. When he was finished Aeryn froze in shock.

She was right, she didn’t like his plan.

An awkward silence befell the Starfleet officers as the weight of Rhyan’s words were processed by an uneasy Aeryn Tigan. Ten, then twenty, thirty, seconds passed before Rhyan gave in and broke the silence to give the order for their transport down to San Francisco. The whole time Aeryn remained stunned, unsure how she would face the implementation of Rhyan’s alternative plan; his so-called ‘Plan Z’.

That was when Aeryn realised the true name for Rhyan’s plan, the only descriptive name that could be given.

The sacrifice, and death, of Lieutenant Aeryn Tigan.

 

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