Again with the Creons
Posted on Sat Aug 23rd, 2025 @ 8:24am by Captain Rovak & Lieutenant Commander N'Tgni Creon
659 words; about a 3 minute read
Mission:
Shoreleave [3-4]
Location: Starfleet Tactical Complex, San Fransisco
Timeline: Morning - MD13
“Commander Creon.” Rovak said as he entered N’Tgni’s office. He hadn't seen her since she was an Ensign Security officer on Starbase 51. She was Flynn's suggestion, Alex had promoted her to Lieutenant in their time serving in the Gamma Quadrant.
“Captain Rovak. Congrats. About time. You’ve only been in Starfleet for what, a century?” Creon stayed seated, gesturing for him to take a seat on his side of her desk.
“Give or take a decade.” Rovak agreed, sitting.
“What brings you to my domain?” She leaned back in her office chair, towards her window with a view of the San Francisco bay. No bridge, though.
“I have an offer for you. The C-in-C has put out a priority call for Deep Space 13. I need someone to act as supervising officer for my station’s entire tactical apparatus in Strat Ops.”
“You’ve got a crew of what, 10,000? A woman of my talents? I’m currently crunching numbers for defences across twelve sectors.” Creon said with a calm and confident defence of her position.
“The anomaly.” Rovak said simply, knowing it was all he needed to someone with her clearance.
“If you tell me what it is, I’ll join you.” N’Tgni replied, grabbing gently at the hook.
“We don’t know. A hole in existence that widens as things pass. Every six and a half days it changes its destination to another universe. We have encountered a being supposedly responsible for maintaining such irregularities, but other than providing us with storage devices containing sentient beings and the knowledge to save ourselves from impending death by forcibly changing the anomaly's destination, he did not provide a great deal of useful insight.”
“Hm. What else?”
“We recently acquired a device known as a Stargate. Is that a name you recognise?” Rovak asked, testing her credentials and connections.
“Historical deep space telemetry is all that comes to mind, sir.” Creon admitted, curious that he had dangled a new secret in front of her so brazenly.
“It is an artificial wormhole generator, powered by its own vacuum energy. Nearly indestructible by natural and preindustrial forces, they can be left on worlds for millennia unmaintained and remain functional. We have three of them. Tests have been extensive and showed no issues. Living tests will start within a week.”
“Furies…” She muttered, considering the implications. “Cardassians won’t like that one bit. They’ve started skirmishes over lesser developments. Breen too. They’ll probably start shadow raids again along the Bajoran route, to make it look like Cardassians.”
“Indeed. Such analyses will be crucial until we learn how to control the influx of visitors. We also have communities of several thousand beings from another world established, many of whom hold adolescent parasites capable of taking control of humanoid hosts in adulthood, becoming members of their society’s ruling class.”
“Huh. Sounds like a nightmare, from a strategic operations perspective.” Creon observed.
“Indeed.” Rovak agreed.
“Alright, I’m in.” Creon said with a nod, standing to shake Rovak’s hand.
“Tell me, when did you last speak with your sister?” Rovak asked, now that she had agreed.
“Half-sister. And I only first met her as an adult less than a decade ago. Not recently. I assumed she’d reach out when she was ready. I think she realises how bad her defection made me look.” N’Tigni said.
“She is Ambassador to the Free State aboard DS13. She was formerly its commander, after she resigned her commission and command of the Hercules.”
“Good for her. Wait, it’s Romulan? Doesn’t look Romulan.” Creon said, bringing up the design on her terminal.
“That appears to be the case, the working theory is that it was a training facility. The only likeness of its kind is found in discarded historical design proposals. We do now that it dates back to at least the 23rd century.”
“Wild. When do we leave?”
“Now.” Rovak said.
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