Star Trek Prometheus -Fire with Fire

by Christian Humberg

  “That might be the case when fighting against weaker opponents. But when faced with an equal or even superior enemy you can only win if you’re cautious.” Roaas went back to the center of the gym mat to pick up his blades. “One more round?”

  Lenissa grinned. “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later they went their separate ways. Lenissa returned to her quarters. As senior officer she enjoyed the luxury of a single cabin, albeit one of negligible size. When she entered, the computer automatically switched on the lights. Immediately, she dimmed them. As far as she was concerned, it was now time to start the cozy part of the evening.

  She got undressed, tossing her sweaty clothes into the recycler. When she was done, she walked across her quarters and went into the small sanitary area. The pulse vibrations of her sonic shower made her skin prickle and relaxed her muscles. Sighing, she washed down the dried sweat and the burdens of the day.

  All in all she led a good life aboard the Prometheus, and she had settled in fairly quickly after being transferred here. Richard Adams was a strict but fair captain, and she had found a remarkably empathic mentor in the first officer. Her subordinates in the security department didn’t give her much reason for complaint, either. Most of them were very professional and efficient in their work.

  Despite all that she still felt a permanent, uneasy tension.

  I guess I’m my own worst enemy, she mused. Even as a child, everyone had stated that she had a pretty adverse combination of traits… she wanted to be a perfectionist, while at the same time she had no patience. Lenissa always wanted to be the best and strived to exceed the high expectations that everybody placed on her. But she lacked the necessary calmness to work her way up. Still, her drive got her to graduate from the Academy with the highest grades in her class—and helped her become one of the youngest superior officers in Starfleet. I must never give anything less than my best, she frequently urged herself. She had to prove to the other senior officers—not just Adams and Roaas, but also Carson and Kirk—that she was worthy of her post, and she had to prove it every day.

  Clean but not really relaxed, Lenissa stepped out of the sonic shower. Before leaving the sanitary area she scrutinized herself in the mirror. Her reflection lifted her spirits considerably. Her body didn’t show any signs of aging. Her muscles were lithe, her blue skin firm, and there wasn’t a wrinkle in her face. Lenissa knew that vanity was unbecoming of a Starfleet officer. But everyone has their little weaknesses, she thought, stroking her flat belly with satisfaction.

  She went to her wardrobe next to her bunk, choosing comfortable pants and a top similar to a kimono to go with them. Both were white like the snow-covered wastelands on her homeworld of Andor. Finally, she strolled to the replicator.

  “A portion of cooked Dreaak, and a bowl of Honar,” she ordered. “And a pitcher of citrus-flavored water.”

  A shimmer announced the arrival of the ordered items in the output compartment.

  No sooner had Lenissa sat down with her meal at the small table near the door when her doorbell sounded. Her antennae bent forward expectantly. “Come.”

  The door hissed open and Geron Barai entered. Just like Lenissa he wore casual clothing—brown pants and a blue and brown top. The Betazoid doctor’s gaze wandered from Lenissa to her dinner.

  “Bad time, Niss?”

  “Not at all,” she replied. “I’m just having dinner. Sit down. Can I offer you something?”

  “No, thanks, I’ve just eaten in the Starboard 8,” the doctor said, referring to the club run by a Bolian named Moba. Alpha shift tended to gather there in the evening during their spare time. Lenissa herself was among them, enjoying the company of her crewmates. The only exceptions were the evenings that she trained with Roaas or met up with Geron. “But I guess I’ll have a glass of citrus-flavored water,” he continued, settling on a chair across the table.

  She poured a glass for him, and he took a sip. His near-black eyes were fixed on her. Lenissa was fairly certain that he didn’t use his telepathic talent, but she could almost hear his thoughts. She didn’t need a vivid imagination to do so, though. There was only one reason why they got together in his or her quarters every couple of nights. Outwardly, they maintained the illusion of just being friends, but in truth they had—as Carson had once put it—a “friendship with benefits.”

  Yet another problem Lenissa had been battling since childhood… She was unable to commit herself. Almost every one of her people had returned to Andor in recent years. They did so to find a companion, to bring children into the world, or to undertake other practical efforts to overcome the terrible reproduction crisis that the Andorians had endured for so many decades. Lenissa, on the other hand, had traveled deeper into space, further away from her home, her parents, her Chi and her Zhi, and her former friends. There had been several attempts to involve her in the attempt to save her people but she had fled. She didn’t want anything to do with all of that ever again.

  With that in mind she had limited her love life to simple and straightforward flings. Unbridled fun and no commitments was Lenissa’s motto. With her looks it had never been difficult for her to find willing partners—neither at the Academy nor on the ships where she had served. Even aboard the Prometheus it had taken less than a month before she had won the Betazoid ship’s doctor over. His manner of dealing with sexual matters was pleasantly relaxed, and his looks made Lenissa’s antennae quiver in anticipation. The dark eyes, the boyish smile and his hands… Some cultures said that a doctor’s hands were able to work miracles. And they’re not wrong.

  A broad grin spread on Geron’s face. “Maybe we should talk later,” he said.

  Lenissa blinked, confused, realizing that she had been lost in thought for a while.

  “What?”

  “I did ask you what your day has been like.” His voice lowered, taking a conspiratorial tone. “But you seem to have skipped our usual preliminary banter.”

  Emitting a sound of pretended indignation, she threw her napkin at him. “And just who gave you permission to eavesdrop?”

  Geron laughed. “Trust me, I don’t have to put much effort into sensing your feelings. You’re almost screaming them at the world. You’re lucky that Vulcans’ telepathy is touch-induced; otherwise, Senok and T’Sai would be staring at the ground in severe embarrassment right now, no matter where they were on board.”

  Lenissa’s face started glowing. “You’re forgetting the new Vulcan woman.”

  “T’Shanik.”

  “Oh, right. Isn’t she at conn right now?”

  “Yeah, she’s on beta shift. Although she won’t have much to do while we’re in the slipstream to Lembatta Prime, I guess.” Geron placed his forearms on the table, leaning closer to her. “So… would you like to answer my question, Lieutenant Commander, or should we postpone our conversation to later?”

  For the duration of several heartbeats they looked each other deep in the eyes. Then, Lenissa seized Geron by the collar, dragging him onto his feet as she stood up. The glass of citrus-flavored water toppled, leaving a puddle on the tray. She didn’t care.

  “I guess we’re talking later,” Geron stated, desire creeping into his voice.

  “Talking is for politicians,” she said. Her antennae vibrated when she pulled his sweater over his head. “I prefer to act.”

  “Very good.” He untied the knot of the fabric belt that held her kimono-like top, pushing her toward the bed. “Me too.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later they were lying side by side on Lenissa’s bed. The thin shimmering blanket covered their naked bodies halfway. Lenissa’s head rested on Geron’s shoulder, and he had put his arm around her. Her antennae swayed slightly while she was drawing imaginary circles on his chest.

  She knew what she was doing was dangerous. For her, having sex with the doctor was nothing more than a selfish act of satisfaction of a sexual desire. So far, so good. She had ample experience with short, heated perio
ds of passion that didn’t involve feelings. These displays of affection afterwards, however, usually led to some kind of bond between two partners.

  Counselor Courmont would probably have interpreted the fact that Lenissa was still lying here, rather than getting up, sending Geron away and continuing her interrupted dinner, as a sign that she still nurtured an underlying desire for a feeling of security and stability.

  Not that Lenissa would ever have revealed this affair to the counselor. She would rather confide in the Prometheus’s Emergency Medical Hologram—and the EMH was a considerable pain in the backside.

  “What’s preying on your mind?” Geron asked quietly.

  She hated it when he asked her that question. It always proved to her that to him, her feelings were like an open book. His words also proved to her that there was indeed something preying on her mind, although she refused to acknowledge that. “Nothing,” she answered curtly.

  Geron shrugged slightly. “Okay.”

  Now, that was something she appreciated in him, and it was probably the main reason why Lenissa allowed herself to be carried away to such dangerous moments as lying in his arms. Geron could have scrutinized her mind with ease, digging up everything that she was hiding deep within herself. But he didn’t. Occasionally, he invited her to talk. He probably couldn’t help himself—he was a doctor. Whenever she declined or reacted reluctantly, he would drop the subject.

  Geron attempted to change the subject. “Am I now allowed to ask how your day was?”

  “Exhausting,” Lenissa murmured and sighed. “I had to work through an entire padd full of information from Starfleet Intelligence on the situation in the Lembatta Cluster. Afterward, I had to attend a security meeting with the commander. Then training. Finally, you…”

  “Shouldn’t I have come today?”

  Lenissa looked up to him. “Of course you should have,” she reassured him. “It’s not my body that’s tired. It’s my mind.”

  “I know what you’re saying. My mind is racing as well.”

  “How so?”

  “I have committed myself to a refresher course in Renao physiology and psychology. Since Jassat left the ship four years ago, my knowledge has become somewhat rusty.”

  “You went through all that effort for Jassat?” Lenissa asked, amazed.

  “No,” Geron replied, shaking his head. “I’m trying to understand the Renao’s mentality as a people. The Renao have always been somewhat radical, but the attack on Starbase 91 simply doesn’t add up.”

  “Do you know more now?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Despite all our previous encounters we know woefully little about this species.”

  “Yes, I had the same feeling while sifting through the SI files. After I finished I had more questions than answers.”

  “It seems we’re heading toward the unknown.”

  “Yeah, so it would seem.”

  They fell silent again. Lenissa felt Geron’s hand gently stroking her bare back. It was probably an automatic gesture, and she had unwittingly enjoyed it up until this moment. But now it made her feel uneasy. Damn, what’s going on with us? They were lying here like a couple. If it carried on like this Geron would probably want to sleep over soon. Two mugs of hot katheka for breakfast and a kiss on the cheek before we begin our duty. Is that what we’re heading for?

  Almost abruptly, Lenissa let go of him, rolling around and sitting up on the edge of the bed. “We should call it a day,” she murmured. “It’s late, and we’re facing an important assignment tomorrow.”

  Geron remained silent behind her back for a moment. She sensed that he wanted to object but swallowed his words. “You’re probably right.” The thin blanket rustled as he pushed it aside and got up. While he got dressed, Lenissa picked up her top, putting it back on. When she stood up, tying the knot of her belt, he was already putting his shoes on. He smoothed his dark-brown hair with his fingers, eyeing her with a side-glance from the other side of the bed. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “That depends what the day brings,” she replied, wrapping her arms around her body. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Alright.” Gentle, like water that patiently wears down rock, his eyes bored into her mind. She knew that he was seeing through her. You can’t fool a Betazoid. “Good night, Niss,” he said quietly.

  “Good night,” she said.

  He left.

  Lenissa zh’Thiin was now alone in her dimmed cabin. Honar in citrus-flavored water swam on the surface of her small table next to her. There were tears in her eyes that she didn’t want to cry. This is going too far, she thought. I must finish with him.

  Squinting, she took deep breaths to fight back the feelings that were surging up within her. After that, she stepped away from her bed. Spreading her legs slightly she stood in the center of her quarters. With calm, flowing movements she began the meditation technique that Roaas had taught her. Whether it would help her find her inner balance today, Lenissa didn’t dare to predict.

  13

  NOVEMBER 5, 2385

  U.S.S. Prometheus, en route to the Lembatta Cluster

  “Is there something wrong with your uniform, Lieutenant?” The Bolian proprietor of Starboard 8 looked quizzically at Jassat ak Namur from his side of the curved counter.

  Jassat realized with irritation that his right hand rested on his black-and-gray top on his chest as if he had been fiddling with it. Quickly, he removed his hand. “No, nothing,” he said, maybe a little too quickly to sound believable.

  In truth, the uniform that he had received only days earlier when he had come aboard the U.S.S. Prometheus as freshly graduated Lieutenant from Starfleet Academy felt stiff and scratchy—as if it hadn’t been worn-in properly yet.

  Jassat ak Namur knew that this notion was utter nonsense. The uniform for Starfleet members came from a replicator and was custom-made. It consisted of several layers of synthetic fabric, and the innermost layer was usually adapted to the needs of the specific species in order to avoid skin irritations and guarantee maximum comfort.

  It wasn’t the uniform that made Jassat feel uneasy. The reason was deep within him.

  The barkeep leaned across the counter. He seemed to be in a talkative mood. At the moment he could afford to be. Although half of the tables in the club, which could accommodate approximately fifty guests, were taken, everyone seemed to be sufficiently catered to.

  “I think, we haven’t met yet,” the Bolian said. “My name is Moba. I’ve been on this ship for almost two years. And you? Have you come aboard during the change of crew on Deep Space 9?”

  Jassat nodded. “I’m Jassat ak Namur. I’ve just graduated from the Academy.”

  “And you got a place on the Prometheus right away?” Moba sounded impressed. “You’re one lucky guy.”

  “That didn’t have much to do with luck,” Jassat replied. “I served for a year as an exchange officer on the Prometheus before I enrolled.”

  “Oh, I see. Let me guess: first contact with the Federation, cultural exchange and suddenly you got itchy feet and didn’t want anything more than to see the galaxy.” The blue-skinned man in the fashionable gray and violet suit of a civilian grinned broadly.

  “Yes, something like that,” Jassat said.

  Although he had no intention of saying anything else, his counterpart said, “Before you go on—what would you like to drink, Jassat? Or would you prefer to be called ak Namur? Or should I call you Lieutenant?”

  “Jassat will be fine. I’ll have…” He hesitated. He hadn’t been in the Starboard 8 for four years. Back then, a Tellarite by the name of Gaav had run the club. He had been the most ill-tempered bartender you could possibly imagine. “You used to have this juice here. It was green and very refreshing. Slightly sour. Commander Kirk and I used to drink it.”

  Moba waggled one finger. “Say no more! I know exactly what you mean. One moment.” He turned around, facing the impressive mixing device that was mounted on the wall behind the counter. Today’s food
replicators were able to synthesize almost every food or drink that was reasonably well known throughout the Federation. But just like every member of Starfleet, Jassat knew that even the most sophisticated technology could not even come close to real, biological ingredients. The machine hummed and gurgled while Moba fiddled around with it.

  While he waited, Jassat took a good look around the Starboard 8. He had walked through the ship’s corridors deep in thought earlier, and hadn’t noticed where his steps had unwittingly led him, before Moba started talking to him. Nobody in the club belonged to Jassat’s immediate social circle. He did recognize the faces of several people in here but they belonged to different departments. Quite a few engineers were around, and the Prometheus’s science officer, a Benzite called Mendon, sat on a table in a far away corner, talking to a Grazerite whom Jassat didn’t know. In fact, many new faces had been added to the crew in the past few years. The Prometheus had changed.

  Jassat knew that transfers and promotions were part of a Starfleet officer’s career, but that didn’t make it any easier for him. At least the senior officers hadn’t changed. Adams, Roaas, Carson, Kirk, and Barai had all been aboard during Jassat’s time as exchange officer. That was at least some consolation.

  Moba turned back to Jassat, placing a glass with a cold mint-green liquid under his nose. “Q’babi-juice,” the Bolian said. “Jenna’s favorite drink. I bet that’s what you were talking about, my friend.” He nodded encouragingly. “Go on, try it.”

  Jassat sipped carefully. His lips parted in a little smile, and he nodded. “You’re right. That’s exactly what I was talking about.”

  “Excellent.” Moba rubbed his hand. His glance wandered through the club. Once he was satisfied that no one needed his services, he leaned across the counter once more. “Tell me, Jassat, I don’t want to seem overly curious, but may I ask which species you belong to? I’ve been serving on two space stations and six ships—including a Galaxy-class and a Sovereign-class, no less. They are huge, accommodating some thousand crew members. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone quite like you.”