KnightofTempest
patreon
Chapter 43
🕑 Added 2024-12-06 00:44:59 +0000 UTCI exited Sickbay and found myself in the corridor once again, facing down yet another enemy force. Eight Vulcan Separatists led by an armored Vulcan Drone Controller whose trio of hovering Ex-Tzenkethi Military Drones were equipped with Tetryon weaponry capable of blowing holes in light cover. Of course, the Drone Controller wasn't actually a Vulcan, as evidenced by the organic-looking weapon attached to its arm. A wrist-mounted, fluidic antiproton lance that no Undine would ever allow a 'lesser being' like a Vulcan to wield. The eight actual Vulcans, meanwhile, all had various phaser weapons. Most with the TNG-Style TV Remote Hand Phasers, some with older-style pistol-shaped hand phasers, and one with an actual Type Three Phaser Rifle.
"You are alone?" Questioned the Undine.
"I am. If you want to get to sickbay, you'll have to go through me first." I insisted.
"Surrender. Making this stand is illogical." Insisted one of the Actual Vulcans, a Female with an undercut hairstyle.
"So is allowing yourself to be manipulated by beings who see you as little more than animals." I pointed out.
"I do not follow? There are no other beings here?" Queried the Vulcan Female.
"Enough of this T'los, he is simply attempting to confuse you!" Insisted the Undine.
"Am I? Perhaps you'd be better off looking at the logic of what it is you're attempting." I intoned.
"How do you mean?" Asked the Vulcan Female, T'los.
"If attacking Utopia Planetia was simply a means to further Vulcan's separation from the Federation, then why attempt to steal technical data? Even assuming that the data held in sickbay is the only copy, it will not give nearly as much negotiating leverage as attacking the Admirals Conference and absconding with a large portion of Starfleet Command's top brass would give you. However, as far as I've been able to tell, the Admirals haven't been attacked, just the labs." I began.
"The Admirals Conference is under intense scrutiny. It is unlikely such a measure would succeed." Tried the Undine Imposter.
"Perhaps, but it is under no less scrutiny than the labs are. Yet you chose to try and steal technical data about Federation Weapons Projects. That won't help you gain Vulcan's independence, however, it might help a future invasion from a third party. As yourselves, who benefits from such technical data?" I pressed.
T'los was the first one to put the pieces together. Honestly, for a species that prides itself on intelligence and logic, the Vulcans of the Vulcan Isolation League were shockingly easy to manipulate and embarrassingly slow to realize they'd been duped. I could see the exact moment T'los understood what was happening in her eyes. There was a spike of anger. True, it had been smothered by iron discipline shortly after it flared up, but for a brief moment, T'los of Vulcan was royally pissed that her cell was being used by a third party for a goal that wasn't in line with her cause. There was a short intake of breath, before T'los breathed out, nodding at me in understanding.
"You are saying we have been fooled. I accept that premise, though the question remains by whom." Offered T'los.
"Why don't you ask the Drone Controller over there?" I questioned.
"Jilk? What is he talking about?" Queried T'los.
"Well played, Human. It won't be enough, however. The Weak will perish, the Strong will thrive, and you cannot stop the inevitable." Snarled the Undine Imposter, Jilk.
Suddenly, the form of the Undine Imposter twisted, stripping away the camouflage. Jilk of Vulcan simmered and faded, revealing the tripedal, nine feet tall, truth under the shapeshifting. Jilk of Vulcan was no more, instead, Jilk the Undine had taken his place, much to the horror of his patsies in the Vulcan Isolation League. The shock of the transformation appeared to be enough that several of the nearby Vulcan Separatists physically recoiled in horror, a very un-Vulcanlike action. One of them, a Male in a bowl-cut hairstyle with an Old-School pistol-shaped hand phaser cried out in surprise.
"What is that thing?" Asked the Male.
"That is an Undine, the third party manipulating your Cell." I answered.
"Enough of this! Kneel!" Commanded Jilk the Undine.
As he did so, Jilk the Undine's eyes glowed bright yellow as all of his patsies including T'los clutched at their heads, dropping to the deckplates one-by-one like puppets with their strings cut. It was an apropos metaphor given all that was going on with this whole assault. The Undine were using T'los' Cell of the Vulcan Isolation League like puppets and now that they no longer needed them, they were discarding them. T'los was the last to fall, crying out in pain from the strain of the psionic attack, then Jilk the Undine turned to me, focusing his psionic power in an attempt to force me to the deckplates as well. His attempt ran straight into my primary mutation and sputtered out as it slammed into a wall.
Squinting, Jilk tried again, mustering his concentration once more in an attempt to penetrate the impenetrable. Once again, his mental attack slammed into my mental shields and shattered, my Primary Mutation effectively ensuring my mind was inviolable. A third attempt also failed in a similar fashion. Jilk made a noise of frustration, which caused me to crack a grin at his predicament. I couldn't help it, at seeing this supposed 'Superior Being' perform the psionic equivalent of ramming head-first into a brick wall over and over again, I just had to needle him over it. Of course, as I reached out with the Force, my needling also served a more practical purpose, to still for time so I could set up my masterstroke.
"Having a bit of trouble, are we?" I taunted.
"How is this possible? What sort of trick are you using?" Demanded Jilk.
"There's no trick. My mental shields are just too strong for you." I smirked.
"Impossible!" Snarled Jilk.
"Search your feelings, you know it to be true. Say, what was it you were saying earlier about the Strong thriving while the weak perish? Might be time for a dose of your own medicine." I grinned, partially quoting Darth Vader.
"No matter, you are still one being! These drones will slaughter you, and if they do not, then the might of our technological power will do the same!" Spat Jilk.
"Are you prepared to bet your life on that? Because if you're feeling froggy, you may as well leap." I challenged.
"What nonsense are you speaking now? Bah, it matters not! Die!" Roared Jilk.
He sent his drones forward, but I had already used our conversation to cover my opening moves. See, while I'd been engaging in Banter, drawing Jilk's attention, I had also been using the force to grab telekinetic holds over several beings and items at once. My strategy, such as it was, was three-fold. First, I grabbed hold of all the phasers that had been dropped by the unconscious members of T'los' Cell of the Vulcan Isolation League, ready to use them at a moment's notice. Next, I grabbed hold of four of the photon grenades that were clipped onto the combat webbing of some of the Vulcans. Finally, I grabbed hold of all of the actual Vulcans of T'los' Cell, using Alkahestry and the Dragon Pulse to ensure they were all right, yet remained unconscious.
Controlling so many things at once with Force-based Telekinesis was difficult. In fact, I was willing to bet that some Jedi Masters couldn't pull it off. There were twenty separate items to keep track of, eight of which were living beings that needed monitoring to avoid harming them and four of which were grenades that needed their pins pulled with precise timing. It was the reason I'd used banter to cover for the setup since I needed the setup to get it all working properly. Now, though, it was time to put the setup to good use. As the Ex-Tzenkethi Drones surged forth, I sprung into action.
First, all eight unconscious Vulcans were dragged behind with Force-Based Telekinesis, ensuring they would be clear of the combat zone when the explosions happened. Next, all eight of the fallen Vulcan phasers rose up and fired at one of the Ex-Tzenkethi Military Drones on full power. Each drone took a pair of Reddish-Orange beams and went down. Next, the pins on the photon grenades I'd seized hold of all pulled at once and leaped out at Jilk the Undine in a telekinetic throw. Finally, I put a mystic shield up using a wandless, wordless, Protego spell.
All this happened within a few seconds of each other. The Ex-Tzenkethi Military Drones never even got a shot off before going down, and while a single, Fluidic Antiproton beam struck out in a snapshot by Jilk my shield took it, only cracking a bit in the process. Jilk didn't get a second shot off as the grenades went off, filling his section of the corridor with charged photons in a flash of energy and light. When the light subsided, Jilk the Undine was lying on the deckplates, bloody, with his Tzenkethi-made armor hanging off him in scraps. That could have tanked two grenades, but three was doubtful and four was just too many.
I made my way over to him, calling the Type Three Phaser Rifle to my hand with the Force and putting my boot on Jilk's chest. I leveled the rifle at Jilk's head with a grin as he glared up at me through bloodshot, yellow, hate-filled, eyes. The whine of the rifle signified it was ready to fire as I gazed back down at Jilk.
"What are you? We were not told anything like you would be here." Demanded Jilk.
"I may have been the right man in the wrong place, but you know the old saying. The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the World." I chuckled, quoting the G-Man.
"This victory is temporary. The Weak will perish, you are only delaying the inevitable." Spat Jilk.
"Maybe. You'll perish first, though. Speaking of which. . ." I trailed off before pulling the trigger.
The Type Three Phaser fired a solid, Reddish-Orange beam of phased nadion particles right into Jilk the Undine's face. Thanks to the powers of Comprehension from Amestrian Alchemy, I was fairly confident that I knew how a Type Three Phaser Rifle worked now, though building one was a different story, as I'd need to do a lot of disassembly and transmutation to get the components down. As Jilk's head was turned into a puddle of chores on the deckplates, I used Amestrian Alchemy to do just that, disassembling the rifle down to components for future study, before shoving those components into my bag of holding. With another moment of thought, I grabbed the Fluidic Antiproton Wrist Lance off Jilk as well, along with a dead Tzenkethi-made Drone, and shoved those into my bag of holding too. Bartholomew did ask for trophies after all.
Moments later, Tuvok entered the corridor, Phaser out and ready to fire, leading a group of other Starfleet Security Personnel. On seeing the state of the corridor, however, Tuvok stopped short, cocked an eyebrow at me, and gestured to the dead Undine, destroyed Drones, and unconscious Vulcan Separatists before speaking.
"You did all of this by yourself?" He questioned.
"You say that like it was difficult." I snorted.
"I must admit I have been impressed by your skills and conduct during this ordeal." Admitted Tuvok.
"Impressed enough to let me go?" I queried.
"Perhaps." Intoned Tuvok.
"Well, if you need further persuading, that Vulcan back there is named T'los. She is the leader of this cell of the Vulcan Isolation League." I offered.
"I am familiar with T'los. She is unharmed?" Asked Tuvok.
"Mostly. She should be good for questioning just as soon as she wakes up." I nodded.
"In that case, I would say you have earned your pardon." Informed Tuvok.
"Great. Listen, I need a shuttle or transport to San Francisco before I get out of your hair. I had some business there that I never got to perform before this whole debacle happened." I requested.
"That can be arranged. You will be gratified to note that the Undine did not get ahold of any technology." Informed Tuvok.
"Good. Just remember what I said about the things that are out there in unexplored space. This was nothing, barely a scouting action by the standards of the Undine. Starfleet is going to have to be ready if it wants to keep pushing into the unknown." I warned.
"That much is clear, we are still receiving casualty reports, but the attack on the Escort Prototype was quite deadly. At last count, we were at one thousand personnel killed and wounded from this attack and counting. As well, the two Miranda-class Starships guarding the Prototype Dock, the USS Comanche and USS Zulu both sustained crippling damage due to attacks by experimental corvettes disguised as freighters. I am certain that Starfleet Command will take your advice more seriously now." Informed Tuvok.
"Good. Now, which way to the transporters?" I questioned.
"Follow me." Intoned a Gold-Shirted, Bolian, Security Ensign.
Soon enough, I was being beamed down to Earth via interplanetary transport. That was rare if I recalled correctly, and usually, only something races had in their home systems, if at all. The fact that it was being used on me was nice since it meant not having to take a shuttle. True, at full impulse, it wouldn't take long to get me here, but it was still nice not to have to go through the wait. I materialized near a row of townhouses and closed my eyes, concentrating on feeling out the location of my Tower. I followed that feeling all the way to a dockside warehouse. Seeing the door was mysteriously unlocked, I entered and found myself back in my Tower.
"I see you've returned, Sir." Came Bartholomew's Voice, the Ghost Butler materializing in the Entry Hall.
"I have. Got caught up in shenanigans, but what else is new?" I shrugged.
"Very good sir. Dare I ask if you have brought more trophies?" Queried Bartholomew.
"I actually have, yes. Here you go." I nodded, pulling out all the gear I managed to swipe from the Augment Base and Utopia Planetia, including Jilk's Fluidic Antiproton Wrist Lance and the dead Tzenkethi-made Drone. As Bartholomew touched each item, they vanished in a burst of ghostly light, teleported to their proper place.
"For a trophy, we only required the Drone Husk and Alien Weapon. I have taken the liberty of placing everything else in the Armory, Sir." Informed Bartholomew.
"We have an Armory?" I asked.
"We do now, Sir. You unlocked it with your trophies from the Wizarding World, though it will take you eight more trophies to unlock another tower function at present." Explained Bartholomew.
"Fantastic. In that case, I'll just see about transporting us back to Earth Six-One-Six, shall I?" I grinned.
"Very good sir. You will be happy to know that time has scarcely passed there since you left. Assuming your regular schedule of mishaps, you should be able to return to New York City in time for the Poker Night that Miss Walter's invited you to." Nodded Bartholomew.
"Thank you, Bartholomew. That will be all for now." I sighed.
"Yes, sir." Intoned Bartholomew.
Then, my Ghost Butler vanished in a pulse of ghostly light, leaving me alone. One shower and change of clothes later, and I found myself once more kneeling down in meditation. I searched for the spark within me, falling into my mindscape and searching for it deep within my core. As I found it, I willed it from a spark into a blaze, a Beacon to light my way back to Earth Six-One-Six. My Planeswalker Spark obliged me, flaring into life as I was transported back. Then I opened my eyes and found myself staring down an Angry-looking Man in winged sandals and a Speedo.
"Who are you who dares breach the Court of Atlantis without invitation?" Demanded Namor, the Sub-Mariner and King of Atlantis.
I could only groan at my bad luck with Planeswalking in response. . .
XXXX
AN: All right, here's the ending bit of the trip to Star Trek Earth. Suffice it to say, the fact that Utopia Planetia was attacked and the Undine managed to kill or wound over a thousand people, plus cripple two starships is going to be a wake-up call for Starfleet. Granted, Picard is also about to meet the Borg for the first time as well, so with luck, Starfleet will be at least partially re-armed in time for the Dominion this time around.
Of course, Jan now has to deal with the consequences of accidentally planeswalking into Atlantis. Given his dad was killed by Namor for building an underwater dome colony nowhere near the Capital of Atlantis, this isn't likely to go well for him. Atlantis also has Sorcerers of their own to try and stop Jan from Apparating himself out of trouble. He might be able to talk his way out, but then again, this IS Namor, here. If you look up the word Pride in the dictionary, you see his picture right there.
At any rate, the next chapter will involve Jan attempting to get out of this predicament.
Stay tuned. . .
Comments
KnightofTempest
Edited for Spelling and Grammar
