“The Node Between Pulsars”
A Narrative Retelling of Episode 3 — The Silent Archive: Plot B, Session I
| Transcript available here: https://next.storp.org/public/d/46-the-dovarnis-initiative-all-episode-transcripts/9
The USS Tykera was holding station above Dovarnis III - a world still raw in its youth, its surface marked by early colony infrastructure and the growing ramifications of recent unearthings. Below, the Archive slumbered no longer. Discovered beneath Grid Theta, its chambers had already yielded secrets, including contact with a powerful AI construct known only as ‘Caretaker-9’. And though it had been gleamed via the Caretaker that the Archive contained countless individuals, digitally encoded, no one yet knew the name of the civilisation which had built it.
And now, the Caretaker had pointed them outward….
Hidden deep in the T’Ong Nebula, between two closely orbiting pulsars, lay a location flagged by the entity’s ancient knowledge. There was no signal, no beacon calling them forward. Just a set of coordinates…. just the suggestion of more… a mystery, the simple unknown. And in Starfleet, that was more than enough to warrant a look.
Captain Kyhid Zohl had assembled a loose formation of vessels under an Alliance banner to investigate. Among them:
- the R’Rel, commanded by the sharp-edged Ferasan N’Rat;
- the Cav’Sanalam, a Khollr-class warbird helmed by S’anra Hannam of the Republic;
- and the Pangaere’elh, a cloaked Mogai-class vessel under the elusive Liiear.
Then, of course, there was
- the Thorm; Commander Lakara’s Bird-of-Prey, proud and unyielding, drifting above Dovarnis in a way that suggested participation on her own terms.
When Zohl reached out over secure fleet comms to establish a clear command structure, Lakara cut across his words like a blade through mist. “We will accompany you,” she said, “but not under your command.” It was not a challenge, it was a statement of fact. Zohl, frustrated but aware of what Klingon pride could bear, was about to accept it…
Then, without waiting for orders or synchronisation, the Thorm surged to warp. Its departing alignment directed straight for the coordinates.
Zohl stood in silence for a moment. His antennae angled forward in disbelief. “Of course she did,” he muttered. Then he turned back to the bridge crew to direct synchronised orders through the fleet - especially regarding shield configurations for safely traversing the nebula at greater than Warp 2 speeds.
The fleet followed…. navigating the thick chaos of the T’Ong Nebula. Charged plasma, subspace distortions, and gravitic shears rocked ship systems in unpredictable waves.
Hannam’s Cav’Sanalam took heat damage along the port shielding. The Pangaere’elh suffered more significant internal tremors and sensor anomalies, enough to force Liiear to pull back before reaching the rendezvous. It seemed that the deeper they went, the more stress and strain each ship was subjected to, and those of Romulan design, not specially configured, faired worst.
The Tykera herself held together well. She was designed to endure… but there would be a cost if she stayed so deep, for long. As they would all be subject to. The spatial eddies and gravitic shear in this part of the nebula were potentially catastrophic to ships idling for long periods.
When the Thorm arrived alone, it found what it sought.
There, suspended between the twin pulsars, was a structure. Immense. Dark. Suspended in the gravitational balance point as if it had always been there. Its surface was jagged, layered, partly fractured; one massive section was cracked open like an egg shell. No lights. No life signs. But it was real. The coordinates had led them to this.
Lakara launched a probe. The electromagnetic pressure shredded it, but it managed to return partial data: gravimetric anomalies in motion around the structure. Cloaked vessels. At least three. Though hard to pin-point.
Image created by AI generation
The Thorm sent a burst transmission to the incoming fleet. “Thorm to inbound Alliance ships - All vessels with cloak, use it! We are not alone!”
When the rest of the fleet emerged from warp, some slightly battered but operational, they began a coordinated positioning pattern. The Tykera assumed central anchoring point. The Cav’Sanalam tucked in tightly on her port side, more cautious than earlier. The R’Rel held rear guard. And the Thorm, already ahead, lingered near the structure with weapons already fully powered.
Zohl studied the structure on-screen, antennae still and tense. The Tykera went in, supported by the Cav’Sanalam, as only being closer would they have an ability to actively scan with any success in all this interference. The Thorm took the opportunity to re-cloak while passing behind the sensor wake of the much larger Tykera. And they were gone…
Further readings showed a latticework beneath the outer surface, identical in complexity to the material comprising the Archive below Dovarnis III. And something more: a signal. Very hard to detect, coded as it was to be masked by the nebula’s ambient noise, but real. A signal that flowed right back toward Dovarnis. It was a recent link too. Based on little or no degradation in the carrier wave, the connection had only recently been reactivated.. perhaps within the last few days even. Possibly connected with the Tal Shiar receiving station that had imploded… but this signal was linking the structure to the surface… maybe it was restored after the destruction of the Tal Shiar station, because of its destruction…
Before the implications could be discussed further, the cloaked signatures grew clearer thanks to scanning by the R’Rel. The sensor profiles of three heavily adapted Surhuelh-type Reconnaissance Explorer Warbirds had been locked. The data patterns were beyond doubt… they were Tal Shiar operated… but Republic fleet hulls?
Zohl didn’t have time to call orders. The Thorm struck first.
She decloaked directly behind the rearmost Tal Shiar vessel and let fly with a savage barrage. Her disruptor cannon cut deep, shattering the unshielded vessel in an instant. Then came torpedoes, two of them, impacting just as the singularity core failed. The warbird erupted in a green-gold inferno, the shockwave lighting the scene like a sunrise.
Before the bloom faded, a second Bird-of-Prey decloaked at an oblique angle…. Tohi, of Lakara’s house. She swept across the field and fired in a single brutal pass. The second Tal Shiar ship exploded moments later, its shields barely registering online before its core also ruptured.
But the third had just enough time to be ready.
It decloaked mid-rotation, shields raised staggeringly fast. Its response was almost immediate: a focused cone of violet energy that burst outward like a wave. Not a disruptor. A radiation weapon, designed to overload shields and deflectors and burn through hulls. The beam struck the Tykera, the Cav’Sanalam, and the R’Rel in a single sweeping arc.
Alarms shrieked.
Zohl didn’t hesitate. He ordered the Tykera’s port warp core raised to critical output. Plasma surged through the conduits. Power was redirected to expand the Tykera’s deflector field. The ship groaned with pressure, and sudden overcharging, but its shield and deflector envelope bloomed wide, wrapping around the Cav and R’Rel like a protective embrace.
Radiation hammered them. Hull panels heated. Console casings cracked. Environmental systems across the three vessels strained…. but they held. They outlasted the bombardment… for now.
The R’Rel, shielded but defiant, broke formation and swung behind the enemy. She fired a wide disruptor spread into the Tal Shiar vessel’s emitter housing just as the Cav’Sanalam managed to bring down its forward shields. The enemy beam stuttered, then died. A final barrage tore the third Tal Shiar vessel apart.
Image created by AI generation
From its wreckage, an escape pod burst clear.
The Thorm moved again. Her crew executing a rapid tractor lock, pulling the pod in before any other ship could respond.
Within, they found a single Romulan woman. Not in Tal Shiar uniform. She wore a dark robe with subtle geometric trim. She was bloodied, dazed, slipping in and out of consciousness.. delirious even…. but alive.
A Klingon warrior dragged her from the pod and lifted her by the neck, demanding answers.
Her voice, weak but unwavering, broke the silence. “We… I.. am… Zhat Vash. Help us…”
And then she fell unconscious.
The moment hung like a blade in the air. Though none amongst the Klingon security team truly understood the implications.
In the aftermath, the fleet regrouped. Farther from the mysterious structure and the unrelenting beating from both pulsars. The Pangaere’elh remained withdrawn, but within comms contact. The Cav’Sanalam and R’Rel bore radiation damage, but were intact. The two Klingon Birds of Prey seemed to be relatively unscathed, though having spent so long without shields raised, their crews were likely suffering the ill-effects of radiation sickness, or worse. Whether Klingon medical care would be sufficient, was yet to be seen.
The Tykera, however, had paid a price for shielding her allies. One of her warp cores now ran dangerously low, having been pushed to over-exertion. Structural stress along the port hull would require drydock time to fully address. She remained a powerful warship, if she needed to be, but a diminished one certainly.
As repairs began, the Thorm assumed a defensive position alongside the fleet. Though not under Alliance protocol, Lakara extended a rare offer: her vessel’s modest medical bay and doctor would be made available to any in need.
Some took the offer. What they found aboard the Bird-of-Prey surprised them.
Klingon warriors suffering from radiation sickness sat aside without protest, allowing Alliance crew to be treated first. There were boasts, there was singing, perhaps even some respect to be shared in a common battle faced. They had fought as one, and that was enough for many. It seemed there was plenty of honour to go around this day.
Zohl had not been planning to leave his ship, but the gesture could not go unacknowledged. He arranged a shuttle and brought with him two wounded ensigns; ostensibly for treatment, but in truth as a means to speak with Lakara face to face.
The Thorm was warmer than the Tykera. Darker. Smelling of heat, blood, and fresh coolant. Zohl stepped aboard and was met by the familiar weight of old instincts. The soldier in him stirred.
He found Lakara and Tohi outside the medical bay. Both wore the look of warriors still alive, and still ready. Zohl inclined his head slightly.
“You both struck true,” he said. “You did what my uniform sometimes forbids. I won’t say I disagree.”
Tohi offered only a nod. Lakara, grinning, said nothing at all, but reached behind her and pulled open a fresh barrel of bloodwine. A tankard was filled and offered without flourish.
Zohl took it.
For a moment, the weight of the uniform lifted. And the warrior drank.
