Thread: Star Trek III: Redemption
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Old March 12th, 2013, 07:54 AM   #87
tnpir4001
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Default Re: Star Trek III: Redemption
Due to the coming production hiatus, for benefit of anyone who's interested in what happens next:

Spoiler
“Approaching Sector 001,” Kal reported.
“Jennifer, are we ready?” Ronston asked.
Hargrove nodded. “Refraction shielding is on-line and stable,” she answered. “Unless someone gets right on top of us, we should be able to avoid detection.”
“Good work,” Prentice commented.
“Lesley, bring us out of warp,” Ronston ordered.
She felt the Fitzgerald shudder around her as Kal dropped them to sublight speed, and when she looked at the viewscreen again the stars had reverted to pinpricks of light instead of streaking by.
“We’re secure from warp speed,” Kal reported. “Now entering Sector 001.”
Indeed, on the viewscreen she could make out the dark and shadowy form of the Sol system’s outermost world, Pluto, steadily growing larger as the Fitzgerald closed in.
Ronston looked over at Garr. “Doctor, it’s your turn,” she said.
“I have the Borg ship on long-range sensors,” he answered from his station. “It’s passing Mars, on a direct heading for Earth.”
“I’ve located the Enterprise,” Kal added. “Three point six AU behind the Borg vessel, matching their course.”
“Right on schedule,” Dark Garr commented from the aft science station.
Ronston looked at Prentice. “Bradley?”
Prentice looked up at Reyf, standing on the upper platform next to Hargrove. “Captain?”
Reyf shook his head. “I have to see this through,” he said. “I’ll stay.”
Prentice nodded. “Understood,” he said. He tapped the comm control on his console. “Admiral Prentice to Commander Prentice.”
The viewscreen filled with the image of the other ship’s bridge, with Prentice in the center of the frame. “Go ahead, admiral,” Prentice’s counterpart answered.
“Captain Reyf has elected to accompany us the rest of the way,” Prentice told him. “Proceed as we discussed, we’ll call if we need you.”
“Understood, admiral,” his counterpart answered. “Good hunting.”
And the screen winked out.
“The other ship is moving off,” Kal reported.
“Then we should do the same,” Ronston answered. “Lesley, take us in.”
Watching the viewscreen, Ronston couldn’t deny the eerie feeling of déj* vu that settled in. Seeing the planets passing by conjured memories of the last time this had happened—what felt like an eternity ago, or almost three decades in the future, depending on how you looked at it.
The seconds ticked by, Ronston’s gaze fixed on the viewscreen as the Fitzgerald passed one planet after another, the sights so familiar and yet feeling so alien.
At least, Kal announced, “Visual contact.”
Ronston got to her feet. “Onscreen.”
A distant image of Earth appeared, but this time the majestic globe looked as Ronston remembered it: a lush, blue-green world ringed by puffy white clouds and sporting a blue atmospheric halo. Seeing it in all its resplendent glory was almost enough to erase the image of the apocalyptic Earth from the future from her mind.
Almost.
“Magnify,” she heard Prentice order from behind her.
Just that quickly, the image of the Earth disappeared, replaced by an image Ronston had only seen in her nightmares:
The dark, gray bulk of a Borg cube, hovering malevolently over Earth, the hideous thing offering a stark contrast to the lush blue world it orbited.
“Adjust our heading to approach from the cube’s southern face,” Dark Garr called. “We have to keep out of line of sight of the Enterprise.”
“Borg power readings are still nominal,” Hargrove added. “We’ll have to keep our distance until the cube shuts down.”
“I’ve located the Mark II,” Mitchell cut in. “It’s tethered to the Borg hull with some kind of magnetic grapple. I’m not picking up any power readings.”
“All the better to hide with,” Prentice remarked.
“Put it onscreen,” Ronston ordered.
The viewscreen image changed again, this time to show an extreme closeup of the Borg ship’s hull. The Mark II was there, just as Mitchell had said, though from Ronston’s perspective it looked like a fly sitting on a vertical wall. The sight was decidedly unsettling.
Just then, the deck lurched beneath them, and Ronston found herself stumbling backwards to her chair. “Report,” she called.
“The Borg are attempting to lock on with their tractor beam,” Kal answered.
“Doctor,” Prentice called.
“I’m on it,” Dark Garr answered at once. “Computer, rotate shield frequency, pattern Garr One.”
The deck shook harder for a moment. “Doctor?” Ronston pressed.
Garr frowned. “I’m switching to manual,” he called.
The shaking on the deck intensified slightly, then abated. “Okay, I can do this,” Garr said to himself. “I’ll try increasing the rotation interval.”
The deck shook again, and Prentice looked up. “Your adjustment doesn’t seem to be helping,” he commented.
“I’m trying, but they’re quicker than I expected,” Garr answered. “They’re adapting faster than I can compensate. I don’t think that—”
The deck shook harder, then fell still. “Shields have failed,” Hargrove said. “They’ve locked on.”
On the viewscreen, Ronston could see for herself that the Borg tractor beam was bright and solid now, and could almost feel the hold the Borg ship exerting on her own.
The deck lurched again. “The Borg have activated their cutting beam,” Hargrove reported.
“They’re targeting the secondary hull,” Mitchell added. “Engineering section.”
“I thought the Borg ship was supposed to be shut down by now?” Hargrove griped.
“So I was premature,” Dark Garr shot back. “Don’t take it personally.”
“It should happen any second now,” her Garr added. “Almost.”
Finally, the Borg tractor beam and cutting beams deactivated, leaving the Fitzgerald drifting behind the Borg cube.
“The Borg’s primary systems are shutting down,” Hargrove reported. “Weapons, propulsion, shields.” She looked up. “I’d say they are, undoubtedly…asleep.”
“And not a moment too soon,” Mitchell said with a frown.
The reaction was immediate. “I’m picking up two transports from the Mark II,” Kal reported. “They’re inside the cube.”
“Can you track their coordinates?” Ronston demanded.
Kal shook her head. “There’s a great deal of interference from the Borg’s power distribution system,” she said. “I can’t pinpoint the exact location, but I can get you close, within a hundred meters.”
“I’ll take it,” Ronston said, getting to her feet. “Jennifer, doctor, doctor—you’re with me.” She looked up at Reyf. “I take it you’d like to join us?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Reyf answered.
She nodded. “Alright, join the party,” she said. “Lesley, keep us on constant transporter locks, emergency beam-out status, and be ready to get the hell out of here when we return.”
“Aye, captain,” the blue-haired woman answered.
Ronston stepped up to the turbolift. “Bradley, you have the bridge.”

The away team of five—Ronston, Reyf, Hargrove, and the two Garrs—materialized on the Borg ship, and as soon as the transporter beam released them, Hargrove’s phaser rifle came up while everyone else reached for their tricorders.
“Set phasers to maximum,” Ronston ordered.
Reyf recoiled at that. “Are you sure that’s necessary?” he asked.
As Ronston adjusted the setting on her phaser, she answered, “I don’t like it anymore than you do,” she said. She turned to face him. “But Drakus has done enough damage, and if we don’t stop him for good it’s all going to happen again. And next time, we may not be there to stop him.” She hefted her phaser. “One way or another, he’s not walking away from this one.” She turned and looked down the corridor. “Let’s go.”

On the Fitzgerald, Admiral Prentice saw Mitchell’s troubled expression, and stepped over. “Renee, how bad is it?”
Mitchell’s answer was immediate. “When the Borg attacked, they destroyed the command interlinks on deck twenty-seven,” she said. “And ruptured the primary deuterium tanks.”
“Can you make repairs?”
She exhaled. “I’ve already contained the leak and vented the deuterium into space, but that’s not the problem.”
Prentice frowned. “Then what?”
“When the tank blew it caused a feedback surge through engineering control systems,” she said. “We’ve lost propulsion.”
Prentice’s eyebrows shot up. “Renee, in less than five minutes that cube is going to self-destruct,” he said. “If we’re still here when that happens—”
“Then you’d better let me get back to work,” she all but snapped. She stood up and made for the forward turbolift. “I’ll be in Engineering. Lesley, keep an eye on helm control, let me know the instant you have power.”
“Right,” she said.
Mitchell looked at Prentice. “Admiral, while she’s going that, you’d better keep an eye on the away team,” she said, and then stepped back as the doors closed.
Prentice exhaled, but stepped up to Hargrove’s tactical station. “Aye aye,” he said.

On the Borg ship, Kendra Ronston was fighting off demons as she passed by one deactivated Borg done after another. The vessel was almost eerily silent, so different from Borg ships in her era but still very intimidating.
“Captain,” Hargrove announced suddenly, “two humanoid lifesigns, up ahead.”
“It’s them,” her Garr added.
Indeed, Ronston was beginning to make out the sounds of voices. One she recognized as Reyf’s—Admiral Reyf’s—and the other could only be Drakus.
They turned the corner—
“Greetings, captain,” Drakus declared as they came into view. “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming.”
They all stopped short, seeing Drakus standing next to one of the deactivated drones, using a medical probe to extract nanoprobes into a small containment vessel. Admiral Reyf was standing nearby, watching but still several meters away. Ronston noticed that he was standing near what looked like a portable forcefield generator.
Drakus put down the probe and turned to face the others. “And I see you have guests,” he said. “Hello Gaius.” He turned to face his two counterparts. “And two versions of me, well…this certainly is a remarkable occasion.”
“Not exactly the word I’d choose,” Garr all but growled. “You’ve spread misery and suffering through two timelines, all while wearing my face.”
“And mine,” Dark Garr hurriedly added.
“It ends here,” Garr continued. “Today is a good day to die!”
As he said the last word, he raised his phaser and fired—
—only for the blast to dissipate harmlessly against a forcefield.
Drakus was laughing even before the forcefield had stopped crackling. “Did you think I wouldn’t have anticipated your arrival?” he said mockingly. “Have a bit of patience.” He turned back to the Borg drone and resumed work with his medical probe. “Once I’ve healed myself, the real fun begins.” He turned back to his guests. “All those heroics for nothing. No more games, no more riddles, no more curtains one and two, just plain curtains.” The last word echoed menacingly off the walls and reverberated down the corridor. With a final, scornful look at his counterparts, he went back to his work.
Ronston looked at him for a long moment, before her gaze shifted to Admiral Reyf, standing farther away, his expression unreadable. He’d witnessed the exchange but had said nothing.
Ronston turned to Garr, but surprisingly it was his counterpart who spoke next. Stepping forward, Dark Garr called out, “Admiral. I know why you’re doing this, but you can’t let him win.”
Reyf looked at him, but still said nothing.
Drakus looked at the admiral, but then grinned darkly at the officers on the other side of the forcefield. “Gaius knows his place,” he said. “Once we’re finished here, we’ll return to the battle of Wolf 359, and rescue his father.”
“Second chances are quite rare,” the admiral said softly.
The younger Reyf stepped forward. “Don’t you understand, if he manages to heal himself, he’ll be unstoppable?” he said. “In another timeline, he killed thousands, and he’d happily do it all over again. That’s the kind of man you’re trying to give a second chance.”
The admiral was listening to him intently, but showed no signs of taking any action.
Then Garr stepped forward. “Gaius, think about everything your father stood for,” he said. “What would he say if he knew what you’d done to save him?”
“I think he’d say that the price was too damned high,” the younger Reyf said.
Admiral Reyf’s brow seemed to furrow. Drakus looked at him, then back at the away team. “You’re wasting your time,” he said. “For decades, the only thing Gaius has wanted is to get his father back. Starfleet wouldn’t do anything to help him, but now I will. Nothing you can say or do now will change that; I’ve won, do you understand? I’ve won!”
Ronston took a breath—
And then let it out in shock as a phaser blast hit Drakus, from behind. He immediately fell to the ground. Dead, or unconscious, it was hard to tell.
The away team looked down at his sprawled form, then back up at Admiral Reyf in shock as the admiral slowly lowered his phaser. To his counterpart, he said simply, “For our father.”
Reyf looked at him for a long moment, then slowly nodded. “For our father.”
The admiral turned to the forcefield generator, then reached over and shut it off. Instantly, the forcefield winked out.
“Is it over?” the admiral asked.
“It’s over,” his counterpart answered. “It’s finally over.”
“You did good, Gaius,” Garr said. “You did good.”
Hargrove looked from one face to the next. “I hate to be a bother, but if we’re done here, we should really get the hell out of here. This whole ship is going to blow in less than two minutes.”
Admiral Reyf nodded. “Agreed,” he said. He looked at Ronston. “At your leisure, captain—”
He was stopped midsentence by a phaser blast from behind him, which seemed to catch him squarely in the back. He dropped immediately, showing Drakus—still on the floor but now clutching a phaser of his own.
Ronston lifted her phaser, looked at Hargrove and then at Garr, and together they took aim with their phasers, and fired. Reyf had to turn his face to shield his eyes from the glare. When he looked back, Drakus was gone, vaporized by the combined phaser fire from three state-of-the-art weapons.
“Talk about your dead ends,” Dark Garr quipped.
“Doesn’t phase me a bit,” Garr answered.
“Prentice to Captain Ronston,” the voice came from her combadge.
Ronston tapped the badge. “I’m here, Bradley.”
“Kendra, we have a problem,” the admiral answered. “The Borg attack disabled our propulsion systems. Renee’s trying to make repairs but—”
“How long?” Ronston interrupted.
“At least an hour.”
“Bradley, we don’t have that kind of time!”
“Call in my ship,” Reyf suggested. “They’ll beam everyone to safety.”
“Already done,” Prentice answered, “but they’re too far away. They won’t make it in time.”
“We could try decompressing the…” Kal said, but then trailed off. “Shuttlebay.”
“Shuttlecraft,” Prentice answered. “Good thinking.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Kendra, get back here fast, we’re abandoning ship.”
“Acknowledged, five to beam back,” she answered.
“Not quite,” Garr’s voice answered.
They all turned, to see that after stepping over to examine the bodies of Drakus and Admiral Reyf, Dark Garr was now standing next to their forcefield generator. Even as she watched, he reached over and activated it, causing the forcefield to reappear between them.
Ronston’s frown was immediate. “Doctor, what the hell are you doing?”
Garr knelt down beside Drakus’ fallen form. “It’s better this way,” he said. He looked at Reyf. “In our time, I’m a fugitive. In your time, I’d be an aberration.” He looked down at Drakus. “No matter what happens, there’d always be the chance of my turning into him.” He looked back up. “I don’t think I can live with that.”
“Doctor, this is no time to start worrying about what ifs,” Ronston insisted. “Drop the forcefield and let’s get out of here.”
Hargrove’s tricorder began to sound an alarm. “Kendra, the Borg power grid is starting to overload,” she warned. “We have to get out of here, now.”
“Braiyon—” Reyf started.
“Gaius, there’s nothing left to say,” Garr said. “You told me yourself, there’s nothing left for me in our time.” He looked at his counterpart. “As long as he exists, then in a way I got what I wanted. I know your father would be proud of you because I’m proud of you. Now go!”
The last syllable echoed off the walls, and for a moment they just stood there.
“We have one minute!” Hargrove cried.
In that instant, Ronston made her decision. She reached up and tapped her combadge. “Fitzgerald, get us out of here!”

On the 2378 ship, Prentice gripped the arms of the command chair as though he could move the Fitzgerald by the sheer force of his will. “Time to intercept?”
“Forty-seven seconds,” Garrett answered.
“Merv, can you give me anymore?”
“Impulse reactors are at 125 percent pressure, any more than that and she’ll fly apart.”
“Fly her apart then!”

Ronston and the three others—minus Dark Garr—materialized in the transporter room of their Fitzgerald, to see Kal standing at the controls.
“Can you get a lock on my counterpart?” Garr demanded immediately.
Ronston shook her head. “There’s no time,” she said.
“Everyone else is in the shuttlebay,” Kal said. “Where we should be, let’s go!”
The race through the Fitzgerald felt like it took forever, but when at last the doors opened into the shuttlebay, Ronston breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the shuttle sitting there, ready and with engines already powering up.
She charged into the cockpit, to see Prentice already sitting at the copilot’s station going through preflight.
“Report?” she asked.
“We’re ready to leave,” he answered. “Beginning launch sequence.”
Ronston felt the shuttle lift off the deck, and a moment later heard the soft buzzing sound as the shuttle passed through the forcefield.
Prentice brought them around, and for a moment the Fitzgerald came into view. From this perspective, Ronston could see the dark line of carbon scarring along the engineering hull where the Borg had used their cutting beam.
“She was a good ship,” Ronston commented.
“Yes she was,” Prentice agreed. “At least this way she’ll get a proper sendoff, instead of ending up in mothballs.”

On the 2378 Fitzgerald, Prentice had risen from his chair and was standing closer to the viewscreen. “Time!” he demanded.
“Transporter range in twenty-five seconds,” Erickson answered.
“Thirty seconds to self-destruct,” Garrett warned.
Prentice exhaled. “Why do we always have to cut these things so damned close!”

“I’m taking us away from the Borg vessel, full impulse,” Prentice said.
“My Fitzgerald is closing,” Reyf called from his station. “It’s going to be close.”
“Self destruct in fifteen seconds,” Hargrove warned.

“Transporter range in ten seconds,” Garrett reported. “Nine. Eight.”
“Standing by to energize,” Ronston called from the aft station.

“There they are!” Ronston called. Indeed, in the distance she could just make out the formation of running lights that marked the approach of Reyf’s Fitzgerald.
“Just a few more seconds,” Prentice said.

“We’re in range!” Garrett called.
“Get a lock!” Prentice barked.
“Energizing,” Garrett answered.
On the viewscreen, Prentice could make out the approaching shuttle, and a moment later it vanished into the swirling blue mist of a transporter beam.
“I have them,” Garrett called.
“Helm, hard about!” Prentice barked. “Warp speed!”

Just then, he felt more than heard the Borg ship explode as the Fitzgerald raced past it, barely clearing the blast zone in time before racing away into warp.
Ronston and her away team arrived on the bridge a few moments later, and when they saw warp stars on the viewscreen, Kal and Mitchell immediately embraced. Erickson looked over and, seeing Reyf, immediately stepped over to him.
“I’m alright, lieutenant,” he assured her.
“We’ve cleared the system, captain,” Parks reported. “Course, three-five-one mark eleven, speed…warp two.”
“The refraction shielding concealed our warp signature,” Garrett added. “Starfleet didn’t detect us.”
“There’s probably still going to be questions about what the Borg were shooting at,” Ronston said. She exhaled. “Either way…I think we’ve done all we can here.”
“A perfectly good sentiment,” Reyf agreed. “But, with the loss of your ship, we have no way of getting home.”
“Actually,” Prentice said with a soft smile, “that’s not entirely accurate.”

“So,” Ronston said, a little while later. “This is goodbye.”
“This look ahead has certainly been enlightening,” Reyf said. He turned to look behind him, where the rest of his senior officers had gathered. “I believe we can all agree that the experience has been quite remarkable.”
“For all of us,” Merv Ronston said, from his position standing next to Lieutenant Erickson.
Erickson looked at him. “Maybe now we can fix some mistakes before they ever happen,” she said.
“Just remember,” Garr said. “Second chances are rare. I expect all of you to remember that.”
“That,” Prentice said, “and one other thing.” He offered them a small grin. “Live for today.” He threw Ronston and Erickson a glance. “Make the most of the time you have with others.” He looked meaningfully at Garrett and Parks. “Because you never know what tomorrow might bring.”
“Good advice,” his counterpart said.
Just then, Mitchell stepped out of the shuttle. “Captain, we’re ready,” she said. “Boronite reactor is on-line.”
Ronston nodded. “Thank you, commander,” she said. She turned to Reyf, who gestured to his officers. As they began to file out of the room, she said, “Captain, thank you for all your help. We wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for you.”
Reyf looked at her, but then looked at Garr. “Someone helped me when I needed it,” he said. “I could hardly to any less for you.”
“It’s good to see you again, Gaius,” Garr said warmly.
“Likewise,” Reyf said.
Garr, Kal and Hargrove boarded the shuttle, leaving Prentice and Ronston alone with Reyf.
“Dr. Garr has provided me with the temporal and spatial coordinates of your return to the future,” Reyf said. “I’ll see that Starfleet knows to have a recovery team in position.”
Seemingly forgetting herself, Ronston stepped towards Reyf, and gently wrapped her arms around him. After only a moment’s hesitation, he reciprocated.
After a few more seconds, they pulled apart. Reyf nodded to her. “A simple thank you would’ve sufficed,” he said.
Ronston chuckled.
“Take care of yourself, sir,” Prentice said as Reyf turned to leave.
Reyf stopped in the open doorway, looking back at them. “I’ll do that,” he said, and then he was gone.
Ronston stared after him for a moment. “Bradley,” she said softly, “what did you tell him before? When we left to return to our ship?”
She turned to face him, and he exhaled. “I told him…” he said softly, then stopped. He exhaled, then turned to face Ronston. “I told him that dying is nothing to fear. Dying for nothing…well that’s different.” He looked at the closed corridor doors. “I reminded him that there’s no shame in giving your life for something you believe in. No one should die an empty death.”
“Think that’s what made him follow us back?”
Prentice chuckled softly. “The captain himself would say that we should never underestimate the power of just a few words, spoken to the right person at the right time,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Captain’s log, stardate 77009.8—Everyone who belongs in 2378 is there, and everyone who belongs in 2399, is here. Upon returning home, we found the Federation intact, and everything seems to be back to normal. In fact, maybe just a little better.
It was surprisingly easy to convince Admiral Thornton that our experiences were genuine. I’ve put all of my officers in for a commendation—in particular Lesley Kal.
Captain Hargrove was kind enough to lend her support to my recommendation that Lesley be permanently reinstated. Although Starfleet Command agreed, they refused to restore her rank of lieutenant commander. Lesley will have to work her way up from lieutenant—but I have confidence she’ll do so in no time. With a little help from her friends.
As for me, despite the loss of the Fitzgerald, Starfleet has wasted no time in presenting me with my next assignment. It’s with some trepidation that I move forward…but I am moving forward.

Kendra Ronston stepped onto the sparkling bridge of her new command, the brand-new USS F. Scott Fitzgerald, NCC-85107-B, and couldn’t help but show a warm smile:
Gathered in the center of the room, awaiting her arrival, were Prentice, Hargrove, Kal, and the rest of her crew that had accompanied her through time.
Prentice straightened, his hand resting on the back of the new command chair. “Captain on the bridge,” he called.
She looked around, seeing one familiar and smiling face after another. These, she knew, were not merely her friends, but her family. And there was no place she’d rather have been.
“As you were,” she called. As she crossed to the command chair, she looked up at Prentice. “You knew.”
He shrugged. “I knew,” he said. “But it wasn’t my idea.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t understand.”
Prentice chuckled, then turned to look to his left. “Then maybe you should ask him.”
Ronston followed his gaze, to see another man in an admiral’s white uniform standing by the viewscreen. She had just enough time to recognize the man’s bald plate before he turned and—
“Permission to come aboard?” Admiral Gaius Reyf requested with a soft smile.
The sense of joy Ronston felt was immediate. “Captain,” she said. “Forgive me, admiral.” She grinned. “Sir, there are no words to express how I feel at this moment.”
He looked down, and she could almost swear he was blushing. “Me too, Kendra,” he said. “Me too.”
“Well, what are we standing around for?” Ronston asked. “We have a galaxy to explore. Stations everyone.”
“Dock control has cleared us for departure,” Hargrove reported from the communications station.
“All decks report ready,” Mitchell announced.
“Helm standing by,” Kal added.
Ronston looked around her, the comforting presences of Reyf and Prentice standing beside her, and to the familiar faces spread around the bridge. “There’s no time like the present,” Reyf said.
Ronston nodded. “Well said.” She looked back to the viewscreen. “Ahead, one quarter impulse.”
“Ahead, one quarter impulse,” Kal replied.
Savoring the moment, Ronston ordered, “Engage.”
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