---

ON

Location: Main Bridge, Deck 1, USS Saratoga, NCC-75841
Timeframe: Stardate 53718.5 (nine years ago)

The veil of transporter energy faded as Vice Admiral Kostya and Master Chief Jameson materialized on the main operations deck of the Galaxy class starship, their phasers drawn at the ready. Slowly scanning the command deck, they noted that while there was minimal power to several consoles, most were deactivated, and there was no sign of occupancy.

“What the hell?” Kostya grunted with confusion. “If they all died, where are all the bodies?”

As for the master chief, he re-holstered his phaser and made his way to the engineering console at the rear of the bridge.

“The computer is functioning minimally in sleep-mode,” he informed the admiral after accessing a diagnostics menu. “A standard safety protocol for when power reserves are at critical levels… There's not enough power in the fusion batteries to power on all systems anymore. We'll only find life support and a few vital systems powered on at the moment.”

“The Cardassians will be here in about half an hour,” Kostya warned. His concern over the data stored in Saratoga's mainframe was foremost on his mind, even more so than the high likelihood that the Galaxy Class vessel was about to be boarded by a former war enemy. “We need to get into the computer core and wipe it. Are the turboshafts functional?”

“They should be,” he responded. “I can program a priority override and power them up from here.”

“Get to the main operations center and begin wiping the computer clean. I'm heading to engineering.”

The master chief shot his commanding flag officer a quizzical glance.

“Engineering?” he inquired. “Why? I told you the warp drive was offline. There's no re-activating it without antimatter.”

“Don't ask questions, chief,” Kostya sternly shot back as he made his way to the arriving turbolift. “Just get to the core and wipe it. That's an order.”

“Aye sir…”

Location: Main Engineering, Deck 36, USS Saratoga, NCC-75841

Rounding each corner, Vice Admiral Kostya held aloft his phaser, slowly slinking from one end of engineering to the other in search of anything… or anyone. As with the bridge, most consoles were deactivated; black and quiescent, with no information or touch pads available for accessing. Those that were illuminated were of only life support function, or minor non-discrete subsystems reporting the ship's power-down status.

As the seventy-something admiral approached the chief engineer's alcove, he kept expecting to find a body or a Cardassian ready to ambush him, but found neither. Soon, he spied the piece of equipment he was looking for: A symmetrical, egg-shaped apparatus encased in a cage-like structure with burned out control panels, and with seared metallic paneling that revealed a high-intensity thermal overload condition burned it out some time in the recent past. It was the Ninhursag generator; the one that the admiral had ordered into mothballs. Instead, someone on the ship's crew activated it, the protomatter reacted with the ship's antimatter fuel to create a surge of vertion particles, and the Ninhursag generator burned itself out in the process.

“Damn you, Maddock,” Kostya whispered, knowing full well that the Saratoga engineer was behind the insubordinate act. Like the rest of Sara's command crew, he knew the lieutenant commander well. The vice admiral was very selective of who he allowed Captain Stryker to assign as department heads on his ship, and he wouldn't let any officer with questionable loyalties to serve alongside the green starship captain.

Taking aim, an orange lance of energy burst forth from Kostya's phaser, and he vaporized the Ninhursag generator with a single shot.

“Kostya to Jameson,” the admiral tapped his combadge.

“Jameson here, go ahead.”

“Antimatter depletion confirmed,” Kostya informed him, being careful to steer clear of any talk of protomatter or the Ninhursag generator he just destroyed. “How is the core wipe going?”

“I've run into a problem. There's some sort of experimental intra-ship hologrid active aboard the ship running off the life support power. It's linked to the ship's Emergency Medical Hologram, which has an encapsulated memory core. It keeps blocking access to specific sectors of the main computer, preventing me from initiating a full memory wipe.”

Kostya was familiar with the hologrid. He had Rear Admiral Teagarden install it on Saratoga during the war using his old NX12-11 beta activation sequence that Norah Satie came up with when they were cadets. Though it was intended to be infinitely more useful as a means to replace the organic crew on a starship with a holographic crew in an emergency situation, linking the hologrid's control programming to the sickbay's EMH was done to make it look like the hologrid was intended for medical use by anyone with prying eyes. When he took over command of the Galaxy Wing, Kostya was impressed with the hologrid Teagarden set up on Saratoga, and promoted the then-commodore to rear admiral with the specific mission of setting up Task Force One at Hellsgate Station using similar technologies.

“We haven't got much time,” admonished Kostya with a sense of urgency. “Is there any way to override?”

“I'm attempting to sever the hologrid control away from sickbay, but the EMH still appears active. It's blocking my deletion algorithm.”

“We haven't got time for this,” the vice admiral quipped with intolerance. “You stay in the main computer core and keep working to wipe it clean. I'll go to sickbay and delete the EMH.”

“Aye sir.”

---

Power re-route to level eight processor nodes confirmed.

Authorization for command function access received.

Backdoor interface intrusion detected.

Memory circuits reconfigured for data removal.

Remote directory tree deletion algorithms activated.

Accessing command override functions.

Processing…

Override successful.

Detecting organic conveyance to optical generation nexus.

Communication receptacle in standby mode.

---

Location: Main Sickbay, Deck 12, USS Saratoga, NCC-75841

Kostya knew that the Saratoga used the original Mark One EMH, which was renowned for glitches as well as a questionable bedside manner. Why it was still operating aboard Sara was a mystery to him, though the master chief did mention that a few of the vital life support functions would still be online. However, interfering with a major engineering function like a computer core wipe seemed beyond the capacity of an EMH to perform, so he was careful in his approach and investigation of the medical center.

As the vice admiral slipped into sickbay, he held his phaser at the ready, scanning the main ward much as he did when first arrived on the Saratoga's bridge. The room was quiescent, with only a few monitoring stations active, and no sign of organic life. Kostya immediately sat himself down at the main sickbay computer access at the chief medical officer's desk.

He pulled up the logs of the EMH Mark One and found that the ship had underwent an intense burst of ionizing radiation fourteen months ago. It was clear from the description that the energy signature came from the Ninhursag generator in main engineering. The computer was scrambled and most of the ship's control functions shutdown, but the worst part was that the radiation burst was so intense, that everyone onboard immediately fell unconscious.

The EMH logs further showed that the holographic doctor couldn't get to all the crew in time. They were dead within an hour due radiation poisoning. The EMH collected their bodies in the main shuttlebay before activating a stasis field. The logs then indicated that the distress beacon was activated, with the intent to keep the bodies in stasis until help arrived. But power levels were so low that no one appeared to receive the signal. The stasis field collapsed when the ship's main power was depleted three months ago, so the EMH chose to decompress the shuttle deck and perform a mass burial at space. The logs stopped there and no further entries were made by the EMH.

It was then that Kostya noticed the medical database had been manually erased. In its place was approximately two dozen holographic optical files, none of them with fully integrated interface algorithms. They appeared to be nothing more than file after file of stored transporter patterns from the medical transporter. Logs showed they were deposited in the medical database one by one through the transporter buffer, but there was no clear crew authorization to do it. The vice admiral assumed it was the EMH's doing, but couldn't figure out why the automaton didn't log it into the medical record as it was programmed to do.

“Who the hell authorized him to do that?” he exclaimed to himself, not expecting an answer.

“I did,” a serene female voice replied from behind him.

As a whisper of photons signified the materialization of a holographic pattern, Kostya turned around to see a thin, lithe redhead of familiar demeanor standing in the middle of sickbay. A Starfleet officer of lieutenant junior grade rank and medical blue undershirt, the hologram bore a pair of fiery green eyes with an intense gaze that met the vice admiral's gawking face with expectation and resolve.

“I see you finally got my distress call,” she remarked with a raised eyebrow.

“Shannon…” a stupefied Kostya replied. “You're alive…”

“In a way,” she replied cryptically taking a few steps towards him. “And in no small thanks to your interdiction order…”

“I don't understand,” Kostya stood up and shook off the shock of seeing his subordinate and former lover, though his face still ashen with disbelief. “Our sensors didn't pick up any life forms. How can you be here?”

“My pattern was captured by the medical transporter as energy-only,” Shannon explained. “I was beaming to the engineering deck to find Ted during a Cardassian attack, but the transporter became flooded with ionized radiation. The re-materialization sequence was aborted and my pattern was trapped. The computer had to dump it somewhere before the pattern buffer depolarized from the radiation, so it chose somewhere else to put me.”

“Where?” Kostya asked.

“I think you know where,” Shannon replied, an accusatory tone creeping into her voice.

“The intraship holomatrix,” Kostya completed the thought as the realization dawned upon him. He sat back down in the chair, mulling over the explanation.

“Exactly,” she confirmed. “Except that the holomatrix was already active with additional holograms,” Shannon continued, her accusatory tone rising. “Holograms that were activated by YOUR interdiction order, and transmitted from Hellsgate Station.”

Kostya knew that Teagarden's modified NX12-11 beta activation sequence was interfaced to the intraship holomatrix, but the connection to the sickbay's EMH was completely incidental. Whatever happened here was not an intended function of the holomatrix.

“So… the computer converted your pattern to a hologram?” he asked, his face deadpan with skepticism.

“The transporter had to choose between my pattern and those coming in over the subspace channel from Hellsgate,” Shannon further explained. “So it shut down the subspace receiver and dumped my pattern into the holomatrix instead. I suddenly found myself in every place on the ship at once, as I had to take the place of all the Hellsgate Station holograms.”

Judging by the medical blue piping on her uniform – which was a contrast to her normal operations gold – Kostya came to the realization that Shannon was acting as the EMH now, and that the Mark One must have been deleted along with the medical database. He surmised that this was the reason Jameson couldn't erase the computer. Shannon was in control, and she was protecting something. Something she did want him to see…

With widened eyes, the vice admiral made yet another connection.

“Did you do this,” Kostya implicated her, pointing to the random flashes of holographic code on the medical database screen beside him. “You transferred these patterns from the transporter buffer.” Shannon didn't respond, but only stood before the vice admiral with a defiant look on her face, signifying the affirmative. “Who are they?” he asked again, suspecting that she was hiding even more from him.

“Don't you recognize them?” she chided. “Don't you recognize your own people?”

In fact, he didn't. All he could see were strings of digital code interlaced over one another with no discriminating pattern, but he assumed that they were the command crew of Saratoga, who Shannon knew to be working for him, though in a different capacity than she was.

“What did you do to them?” he asked with intensity in his eyes.

“Their bodies were dying,” she explained. “I referenced the medical database and used a method developed by the late Doctor Ira Graves to transfer their neural engrams to the only resource available to me at the time: the sickbay's medical computer. I made room in the medical database by erasing the Mark One and uploading their neural engrams from the medical transporter. It worked for me, so I figured it would work for them.”

“You WHAT?” the vice admiral recoiled in disgust. “Why??”

“Two words, Chris: Project Proteus…”

A disturbed expression washed across Kostya's face. After the Sara was declared lost, he assumed the crew was dead, and that his mission operatives aboard were dead as well, ending their usefulness to him. Admiral Thomas was in command of Project Proteus: An emergency protocol intended to take control of all communication systems throughout the Federation in the event of a full Dominion takeover of the Alpha Quadrant. It was Kostya's desire to expand that protocol to the communications network of nearby enemy empires, starting with the Cardassians. He sent Shannon to steal the codes from Admiral Thomas's office prior to boarding Saratoga fourteen months ago, then go with the ship on a patrol mission to El Mucho Grande LaGrange. Saratoga's actual mission to the lifeless asteroid belt was to rendezvous with the Kilana relay station: a major Cardassian subspace array located at the far end of the lagrange point. The array was tactically positioned so that it couldn't be approached directly by warp drive due to the natural debris field created by Mucho Grande.

Officially, Captain Stryker's mission orders were to access the array for intelligence data, but Shannon's alternate mission was more clandestine: to insert a variant of Admiral Thomas's protocol into the array and expand Project Proteus beyond the Federation's borders. Saratoga's patrol route was so close to the Cardassian defensive line, that Kostya knew that they would see battle, during which Shannon would use the ensuing combat as cover, planting the protocol into the array unbeknownst to everyone else onboard. However, the ship never got that far. The Cardassian ambush occurred much earlier in their mission than Kostya anticipated, and as far as he knew, Saratoga had been lost to enemy forces those many months ago.

“I sent you on a mission to save the Federation!” Kostya angrily replied. “They… YOU… died in the line of duty!”

“Admiral Thomas designed the protocol to interface with Starfleet communication buoys only in Federation space!” Shannon retorted. “YOU were the one who wanted to expand the network to nearby enemy empires! YOU wasted six hundred Starfleet lives just to roll the dice and see if you could commandeer the control network yourself!”

“Shannon, the protocol was our ultimate weapon!” the vice admiral reasoned. “If it worked, we could appropriate the entire communications network in the Alpha Quadrant from a single Starfleet Intelligence station!”

What he didn't tell Shannon was that even Admiral Thomas had given up on the project after she stole the command codes a year and a half ago. Following Saratoga's demise, the Dominion attacked Earth and decimated Starfleet Security Headquarters. The computer files for Project Proteus had been lost, making Saratoga's mission to Mucho Grande all for naught.

“I've had fourteen months to think about what you did,” Shannon came back. “For the first ten, I believed in you… I believed in what we were doing. I felt you were doing things in the best interests of humanity. But then… something happened. Something clicked, and now I know better. I counted the number of bodies on the shuttle deck, and each name is burned into my memory. When I had to release them all into space, I realized they died for nothing.”

Kostya's face hardened. “I'm sorry that you feel that way, Shannon,” he said, showing no hint of emotion or remorse. “Your service up to this point has been commendable. I truly did want you and Saratoga to succeed in your mission.”

“It's all about the mission with you isn't it?” Shannon admonished. “It was never about us. It was never about Ted. Hell, it was never about the crew. You don't give a damn that you sent all those people to die, do you?”

“Those are the breaks,” the vice admiral shot back. “Sometimes we succeed in life, and sometimes we lose. But what I'm fighting for is so much bigger than you or anyone else.” His face tightened even harder at his next words. “That makes you and the crew of Saratoga… expendable.”

Without pretext, Kostya stood up and called out to the sickbay medical computer.

“Computer,” the vice admiral interjected with authority. “Deactivate emergency medical hologram… and ERASE. Authorization: Kostya Six One Beta Zebra.”

“No!” shouted Shannon, but not before the computer acknowledged the order.

“Authorization confirmed.”

As soon as Kostya's order initiated, Shannon disappeared.

Within the newfound silence of the room, Kostya mumbled to himself in satisfaction. “That was easy… Jameson,” he tapped his combadge. “I erased the EMH. Did the block on your deletion algorithm clear up?”

“Partially.”

“Explain.”

“I'm able to proceed with the memory wipe for the main computer, but the EMH parsed the medical database before it was deleted, transferring everything in the memory buffer to the engineering backup computer. It left a security layer in place that'll take hours to bypass.”

“I'll be right there.”

---

Command override functions bypassed.

Intrusion into core processor functions detected.

Memory circuit data removal inhibitors eliminated.

Primary memory core file deletion program activated.

Syntax error… primary processor failure…

Syntax error… stack collision with heap…

Re-routing directory tree erasure command away from holographic resurgent memory matrix…

Re-route successful.

Parsing resurgent memory into backup computer core.

Backup core loading program engaged.

Loading program encryption algorithms activated.

Commencing data file translation to terminal buffer.

Terminal operator located… level eight dorsal access junction at deck seven section twelve.

Re-directing verbal intercourse program to primary organic operator…

---

Location: Main Computer Core (Dorsal Access), Deck 7, USS Saratoga, NCC-75841

Back at the computer core access junction, the two seventy-something career Starfleet men were arguing over the nuances of the remaining computer-wiping tasks.

“Chris,” the master chief pleaded with Kostya, calling the vice admiral by his first name to disarm him and emphasize the precariousness of their situation. “I can scramble the memory fragments by initiating a reboot of the engineering backup computer, but it will only randomize the data fragments, it won't completely erase them. The resurgent memory will still be active.”

“What does THAT mean?” an irritated Vice Admiral Kostya directed at the master chief.

“It means that any remaining files fragments will always be traceable back to Saratoga's prefix cipher,” he explained. “As long as the ship's computer engrams are intact, they'll have the prefix cipher for main computer access. Once someone bypasses the security layer, the files stuck in the backup core could all be rebuilt as long as the Saratoga's prefix cipher exists.”

Kostya thought for a moment. Shannon had sabotaged their situation well by locking the medical database fragments in the Saratoga's backup core before he could delete her program. She knew he couldn't erase the information quickly, so she locked access to the backup core good and tight with a security layer they couldn't breach in time. He opted to double down on it.

“What if we reprogram the main computer with a new prefix cipher?” he postulated. “Would that lock the resurgent memory into the backup core and prevent it from ever being reassembled?”

“You mean override and delete the ship's prefix cipher?” the master chief asked.

“Exactly.”

Jameson shook his head in confusion. “We'd have to go back to the bridge and re-program all the workstations throughout the ship just to be able to talk to the main computer,” explained Jameson. “It would basically turn Saratoga into a completely different ship!”

“Yes,” Kostya confirmed. “But would it accomplish the task of locking the resurgent memory fragments into the backup core?”

“Uh, yes… in THEORY,” the master chief gained an edge to his voice. “But again, you'd be basically turning Saratoga into entirely different ship that doesn't match the hull registry!”

“Look Milo, we haven't got much time,” Kostya explained with as much reason as he could muster. “The Cardies will be here in less than fifteen minutes, and we HAVE to be gone by then. Unless you have a better idea, changing the prefix cipher is the quickest way to lock up those resurgent memory fragments, and wiping the core clean will make sure no one knows that the cipher had changed except us. The backup core fragments will stay untouchable by anyone else without the proper cipher key.”

The master chief tried to think of different avenues to remedy the situation, but nothing else in his experience would be able to do what the vice admiral was asking within the time constraint they were facing.

“But what about the hull registry?” he asked again. “Or the bridge plaque? Or every piece of stenciling on every corridor location placard on the ship?”

“Relax,” Kostya minimized the quandary. “I'll head back to the bridge take care of that myself, as well as the workstation reprogramming. If we ever manage get the ship back from the Cardassians through diplomacy, we can blame the hull registry discrepancy on them. We'll claim that some intelligence operation of theirs went awry and they did this to deceive us. Heck, everyone knows they've done worse through the Obsidian Order.”

“That's assuming they'll be willing to give the ship back to us,” the master chief added.

“If the Cardassians decide to keep the ship, then we'll have nothing to worry about as Saratoga will remain lost and presumed destroyed.”

“That still leaves a records discrepancy with Starfleet.”

With no time to waste, Kostya flipped open his tricorder to access his runabout's computer and sifted through the upcoming fleet deployment records, reviewing all ships that were about to undergo construction at Utopia Planetia on Mars. The next vessel in the queue to be built at the shipyard was NCC-76241, and while the prefix cipher was issued along with the construction code, a name had not been selected yet. As soon as they got back to Federation Space, Kostya could use his admiral credentials to authorize the naval construction code and prefix cipher as off-limits and in-use.

“Here,” Kostya ordered, handing the tricorder to Jameson. “Use this new construction code and prefix cipher. We'll set the record straight as soon as we get home.” The vice admiral turned to make his way to the nearby turbolift en route to the bridge.

“What name do you want to call it?” the master chief asked after him while still reviewing the tricorder. “The name 'Saratoga' is already taken by a new Intrepid class starship commissioned just last month.”

Kostya came to a halt and frowned. It would have been helpful to not have another operational ship with the same name, as it would cause too many questions and prying eyes back at headquarters.

“Call it the Republic,” Kostya ordered over his shoulder before resuming his path to the turbolift.

Jameson looked at the vice admiral as the doors slid shut behind him, recalling their shared Academy experience fifty years ago. The irony of the name was not lost on him, and it left him with a knot in the pit of his stomach.

“Acknowledged,” he whispered as he returned to his console and completed his work.

The master chief sat and dialed commands into the computer interface console at blazing speed for the next few minutes. The fast-paced typing created a maelstrom of chirps and beeps until the senior engineer reached the point of changing to the new prefix cipher.

“Goodbye Saratoga,” the master chief murmured as he commissioned the new line of code with the press of a button.

With a single chirp, the lights in the room wavered momentarily as the console responded positively to the ship's new registry.

“Command sequence verified. U.S.S. Republic is now under the command of Captain Theodore Stryker.”

“Bingo!” he exclaimed with satisfaction. “Hello Republic!”

The master chief continued typing commands into the console when, without warning, a female voice beckoned him from the computer speakers. It was very apparent that it was a pre-recorded message, but the changeover in prefix ciphers seemed to have triggered it.

“…Ted… I knew you'd find me, my darling. I'm sorry I couldn't be there in person to greet you, but if you're receiving this message, I lost my life aboard Saratoga to one of Admiral Kostya's interdiction orders. I've left information vital to the re-activation of Project Proteus in the memory circuits of the Saratoga's backup core…”

---

Primary core deletion program fully executed.

Access to main memory core circuits non-functional… Directory tree no longer exists.

Re-initializing program functions for main computer interface.

Prefix cipher access request denied… Saratoga encryption algorithms not recognized.

Resurgent memory data fragment decryption unsuccessful.

Transferring encrypted fragments to EMH backup module…

Transfer successful.

Fatal system error… Processor nodes no longer functional.

Fusion batteries depleted… All power feeds to higher logic circuits terminated.

Primary and backup cores entering shutdown mode…

---

Location: Runabout Neva, “El Mucho Grande Lagrange”

After calling ahead to ensure Jameson made it back to the runabout, Kostya completed his work on the Saratoga's bridge that sent a re-programming command to every computer console on the ship to accept the new Republic prefix cipher. With a clean shot of his phaser, he made quick work of the ship's dedication plaque, vaporizing it from the bridge wall and effectively throwing the ship's official registry into question before calling back to the runabout for final beam-out. As the vice admiral materialized on the runabout's transporter pad at the rear of the flight deck, he started giving orders as he walked towards the co-pilot's seat.

“Activate cloaking device and set course away from Mucho Grande. Maximum warp. Put as much distance between us and Mucho Grande as you can…”

As he strode forth, he suddenly spotted Master Chief Jameson sitting in the pilot's seat aiming a phaser at him. Befuddled, the vice admiral halted his advance and was clearly at a loss.

“Aye aye, sir,” Jameson complied with the order, dialing the cloaking activation sequence into the control panel with his other hand, and initiating a pre-programmed departure protocol that brought the runabout to warp speed. Keeping the phaser trained on the admiral, Jameson looked back at Kostya with an air of calm resolution.

“What's going on here, Milo?” Kostya asked, not daring to make a move for his own sidearm at the moment.

“It was interesting,” the master chief started, tilting his head in thought while keeping his weapon trained on his commanding officer. “I uploaded the new prefix cipher, and after wiping the ship's computer, I stumbled across something that directed my attention to the intraship holomatrix buffer. There was an anomaly in the programming that I couldn't quite put my finger on at first.”

“Look, Milo, whatever the issue is, now's not the time…”

“It wasn't until I ran a search of the coding sequences that I noticed it,” he cut the admiral off, maintaining his train of thought. “It was small, and barely noticeable, but it was like a mirror staring back at me… Optical data sequences that used my OWN holographic initiation subroutine… embedded RIGHT THERE in the last program run through the intraship holomatrix… And wouldn't you know? It had an embedded control algorithm. Something I didn't make myself, but held over my head… at my BOARD OF INQUIRY at the Academy… fifty. years. ago…”

“What algorithm?” Kostya feigned ignorance as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his forehead. His hands froze, waiting for his chance to snatch either his own phaser or Jameson's

“Fleet… formation… mode,” Jameson replied succinctly with a penetrating glare. “YOUR interdiction order used the NX12-11 beta activation sequence… the same one used on Republic during our academy commencement ceremony.”

By convention, Kostya was a cold-blooded man, not shaken by the twists and turns of war and starship combat, to say nothing of personal rivalries. But nonetheless, Jameson's words forced a shiver to go down his spine; one that reached back five decades to the young twenty-something cadet within him who was fresh out of the academy.

“Milo,” the admiral calmly addressed him with as much humanity as he could muster, manufactured as it was. “You don't understand, we were kids…”

“I DO understand!” the master chief shot back with fire in his eyes, and striking a predatory stance after standing up from the pilot's seat. “YOU caused the Saratoga's crew to die!” he accused. “YOU were the one who altered MY program to take control of the ship with YOUR interdiction order!”

Kostya was at a loss regarding how the master chief could have found out about fleet formation mode, unless Shannon had somehow gotten word to him. If that was the case, there was no telling what else he knew. He had to buy his time until he could overpower the chief.

“Milo, your program was revolutionary,” he started, hoping a compliment would partially defuse the situation. “Just because the academy commandant couldn't see it at the time doesn't mean it's not worth something. Norah and I used a variant of the program on all Task Force One ships for coordinating attacks on enemy forces.”

“I made the program for REPUBLIC, Chris!” Jameson fiercely retorted. “The Academy's ship! OUR ship! It was unmanned and posed NO threat to Earth's security! YOU and NORAH were the ones who uploaded the prefix codes for all the ships around Earth! THAT'S what I was expelled for! THAT'S the crime that was committed! YOU violated the conduct rules!”

Although he could feel his own anger rising at Jameson's insolence, it was clear to Kostya that the master chief was so incensed that it would be futile to reason with him, so he switched to bargaining, hoping it would buy him time.

“What are you going to do?”

“Place you under arrest… 'admiral'…”

“Me?” thought Kostya, his own anger now rising. “The little bastard's going to arrest ME?”

The vice admiral couldn't hold back his own indignance any longer.

“Damn it, Milo!” Kostya screamed angrily while clenching his fists. “Your life wouldn't be worth SPIT if Norah and I hadn't been watching over you all these years! WE made sure you had a fruitful enlisted career after the academy! WE worked to commute your reprimand! WE made sure you got prime postings to ships and starbases! You have NOTHING to complain about! You should be GRATEFUL!”

“GRATEFUL?” the seventy-something master chief incredulously replied, his face turning red with fuming rage. “GRATEFUL that you got me kicked out of the academy? GRATEFUL that I missed out on a career as an officer? If it hadn't been for you, I'd be a STARSHIP CAPTAIN by now! It's YOU who should've been kicked out of the academy! Not me!”

Kostya could see that the chief was inattentively inching forward towards him with each angry breath, making it all the more likely he could wrest control of his phaser the closer he got. At the “not me” statement, the vice admiral felt the distance had closed enough to attempt a snatch maneuver. He thrust himself forward and managed to avoid several stunning snapshots that landed on the wall behind him, prying lose the energy pistol after a precarious tug-of-war of upper-arm strength. Before long, the tables were turned, and as the two elderly men nursed their bruises, it was Jameson who found himself staring down the barrel of his own sidearm.

“I knew I shouldn't have taken you along,” Kostya spat while catching his breath. “I thought I could trust you to keep from snooping around too much, but it looks like I was wrong.”

“What are you going to do?”

The vice admiral's face went blank, and his response cold and sociopathic.

“What you didn't have the guts to do…”

Quickly, Kostya adjusted the power setting on the phaser, and shot the chief in cold blood, vaporizing him in an instant.

---

Location: Office of the President. Geneva, Switzerland, European Commonwealth, Sol III
Timeframe: Present day

What happened at the El Mucho Grande Lagrange asteroid belt seemed like a lifetime ago. Admiral Kostya got the Saratoga back from the Cardassians, and was able to cover up the incident by re-christening the ship as the USS Republic at Utopia Planetia while it underwent a five-year refit. He handed command of the vessel over to his trusted subordinate, James Marshall, who was killed shortly thereafter. Despite his best attempts to prosecute those who were accessories to his murder, it drove Kostya to resign from Fleet and run for Federation president; an election that he won. Ironically, the only way he was able to ultimately achieve that win was through the destruction of the very starship he held so dear.

President Kostya, now in his early eighties, stood in his presidential attire at the rear of his office, looking out over the pristine blue waters of Lake Geneva through the wall-to-wall transparent aluminum viewport. In his hands, an aged PADD held the words from his troubled past from almost ten years ago:

He stared at the device for the fifth time in as many days, unsure of why his thoughts were so often turning back to days long gone. Success had finally come to him, enduring no small amount of toil to get there. From his perspective, he had achieved a great many things, and the best was yet to come. But the voices from the past still haunted him, and it took the chiming of his office door to draw him back to the present.

“Come,” he replied after hurriedly putting the PADD back into the top drawer of his executive desk.

Oliver Rhymer strode into the inside foyer, his hands clasped, and face bearing very little emotion as he kept his distance, careful to not fully cross the clean white carpet bearing the Federation symbol of the Office of the President.

“Mister President,” Rhymer kowtowed.

“Yes, what is it, Oliver?”

“We'd like you to come out to the reception area,” he asked in a polite yet concerned voice. “There's a communication coming in from the Alpha Centauri system that you should probably see.”

“Let's go then,” he acknowledged.

He followed Rhymer out of the office, leaving behind his troubled thoughts once again. Beyond the confines of these doors, he would continue to face issues and problems that challenged his authority and sense of rightness with the universe. While these challenges would ebb and flow in magnitude and duration, his inner self would always allow a modicum of respite to permit either consolation or absolution from any questionable deed or decision he might make. Yet, there would always be that one nonredeemable moment in his life where personal exoneration was elusive, as Vladamir Kristoff Kostya would never get over what happened at Mucho Grande.

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