Mamageddon Part 3 of 4 - Mother of All Battles

On the Surefoot Bridge, Zir glanced at the stations that were formerly occupied by her squadmates Stalac, Urad and Tori, and now were manned by members of Beta Squad. She wished she’d gone along with them.

She caught Peter’s eye, and they exchanged supportive nods. She looked forward, watching the back of Astrid’s head move as she kept examining the readings on her helm station, prompting Zir to ask, “Is there a problem, Ms Michel?”

Astrid started, turning her chair around and frowning, “Problem, uh, Ma’am?”

“Yes,” Kami interjected suddenly, sharply. She had been sitting there silently, almost motionlessly, since C’Rash’s last call, but now she spoke up. “My First Officer asked you if there was a problem, Cadet.”

“Uh, no problem, Ma’am – Ma’ams – I was just reviewing the pattern of the Wave ships, how they manage to achieve these smooth formation changes. Individually-controlled vessels couldn’t manage it.”

“They’re obviously controlled by a single source.”

“Begging your pardon, Captain, but I don’t think so. My… father’s corporation uses many types of maintenance drone networks in its operations, but all have the same problem of reaction time, especially when moving so quickly. It’s been a problem in the aviation history of many worlds. I think I’ve worked out how they’ve got around it, though.” She looked back at her station, and called up a series of images on the main viewscreen, which Zir recognised as the Wave ships. “These scans were taken after we caught up with the Wave before it generated the wormhole. From a distance, they all look the same size-”

Zir leaned forward and frowned. “But they’re not.”

“No. Some are almost twice as large as the rest, and scattered in various points throughout the Wave. These larger drones are connected to each other, and perform the movements, whether it’s attacking or scanning or creating a wormhole; the smaller drones watch, and anticipate what to do. It’s the Chorus Line Hypothesis as to how many avian species fly in such tight, smooth formations; when dancers in a chorus line see an approaching leg kick when it’s still down the line, and prepare what and when to do the same.”

“So one of the larger drones attacks a ship, and the others around it do the same?” Zir prompted.

“Exactly. they’re neither independent or dependent, just semi-dependent.”

“That might prove useful, Ms Michel,” Kami noted. “Good work.”

Zir looked to her temporary commanding officer, who stared blankly ahead – but had a hand resting on her belly. “Captain… do you need a break? Even for a minute? Or I can get you some food, or something to drink or-”

Kami looked at her meaningfully, and offered a slight smile. “Thank you, Zir. I’m fine. You and your squad have done exceptionally well under these circumstances. I’ll be telling my husband and Commander T’Varik as much.”

Zir flushed a dark shade of green. “You don’t have to do that, Ma’am. We’re just… trying to do our best under the circumstances.”

“You’re not just trying,” Kami corrected. “You’re succeeding.”

*

As they drew closer, C’Rash put away her tricorder and used her natural senses, motioning for the rest of her team to hug one of the walls while she led the way. The scents were growing stronger, and she could hear a mix of voices- protests, cries-

She raced forward, her tail straightening out until she reached a doorway and paused, looking out into a much larger area of many mechanical alcoves, the reminder of Borg technology even stronger. And she saw children of many races and sizes herded together by cow-sized multilegged black robots, moving about on six articulated limbs, but occasionally rising up onto the final two to point or manipulate children with the other four, herding them individually into the booths with transparent doors.

There were even babies here too, being held by the older children, until the robots retrieved them and gently placed them in smaller alcoves. Like things being put away.

And then C’Rash heard Misha’s growl, and focused on him: near the back with the children not yet… secured. There he was, in his minikin Starfleet uniform, with Weynik’s daughter Naida close, both of them staring up fearfully at the robots, but Misha keeping Naida and the younger ones protectively behind him, his little claws and teeth bared at their abductors as he growled at him.

You brave, beautiful little cub, C’Rash thought, as she cleared her throat and murmured in a low voice, “Misha! It’s C’Rash!”

“Cousin C’Rash?” he exclaimed loudly, looking around for her now, to the bemusement of the other children, who lacked his hearing.

“Shhh! Don’t worry, Cousin, we’re here to rescue you! When I give you the signal, you and all the other cubs hold hands, get back against the wall and don’t get in the way!” She looked back at her team. “Four robots, they don’t appear armed, but the kids are in the way! Phaser Level 5 at first, higher if necessary! Gorman, take the lead with me!”

As Gorman drew up to her side, C’Rash tapped her combadge. “Surefoot: we have sight of the children – including Misha – they’re alive! We’re about to move in, but we could end up alerting the rest of the ship.”

“Understood… thank you. Stand by.”

*

In another part of the vessel, Chief Grev wrinkled his porcine snout and squinted at the controls, trying to suppress his apprehension at being here, despite his fascination with the technology on hand. He had spent nearly all of his long career in the Engineering rooms of starships, the master of all he surveyed, confident… because it was his world, filled with systems that he knew inside and out. He wasn’t like these young pups, eager to board other ships or visit strange new worlds and try to decipher how things work without being blown to atoms.

When the Counselor-turned-Captain ordered him to lead an actual Away Team to a mysterious vessel in the middle of subspace, Grev had almost questioned the wisdom behind it. Yes, he knew they were running on a skeleton crew, and caught up in a situation that no one had anticipated. But still-

Then he realised that, if he somehow talked his way out of it, then one of his crew would be leading it- Yeager or Gentry. And though technically as Ensigns they outranked him, his experience and position on the Surefoot gave him authority – and responsibility. He couldn’t possibly allow one of these pups to face danger alone-

“Chief?” Yeager was hunched over one of the alien stations, their combined efforts, along with the assistance of the remarkable Horta cadet Stalac, having deciphered the language. But that was just the first step. The next involved deciphering the control systems. “Does this look like a diagnostic function to you?”

Grev grunted as he leaned in, squinting. “Analysis algorithms, overrides- yes, mark it, Nancy, that’ll come in useful.”

A thump drew their attention, and Grev turned to see the Miradorn female Ree-Taan, who had accompanied them to this control room as a Security, leaning against a wall, arms crossed over her chest, and she was banging the heel of her boot impatiently against the bulkhead. “This is boring.”

The Tellarite strode up to him. “Oh is it, pup? Maybe I should let Lt Shall know how bored you are, so next time she can let you stay onboard the ship and I can give you something to keep you interested? Like degaussing the entire network of Jefferies Tubes?”

Ree-Taan straightened up, sneering down at the Chief Engineer. “I am Security. I do not take orders from… repairmen.”

“Yes you do,” Thykrill corrected, as the Andorian entered the room from the corridor beyond. “When they’re from the Chief Engineer. Any more attitude from you, and I’ll report you to Commander T’Varik. She takes a dim view of disrespect… and dimwits. Now get outside and keep an eye on things.”

The Miradorn sneered at her now… but complied. As Ree-Taan departed, Thykrill looked to Grev. “Apologies, Chief. Some cadets arrive with the worst attitudes.”

“Oh, I well understand, Ensign,” Grev smirked, secretly remembering the trouble Thykrill caused in her early days on the Surefoot, especially towards the estimable Jonas Ostrow. “Carry on.”

“Sir?” Stalac rumbled from the station he had appropriated – by rising and hugging it so that his tricorder was close enough to make a link, making the Horta look like a huge lump of lava that had hardened where it had splattered. “I believe I have identified the species who built this vessel: the Striga, an extinct race from the Hromi Cluster.”

“Indeed?” Grev drew up to him, albeit hesitantly; he had never met a Horta before, and despite his attempts not to be judgemental based on their radical difference to carbon-based lifeforms, he couldn’t repress his wariness at something capable to excreting powerful acids. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“That is not surprising, Sir; their race was wiped out by the First Federation over a thousand years ago. There is a database here of this vessel’s activities in that time, stationed in this subspace layer and emerging every 36 years to raid worlds and ships for children.”

“Why?” Tori Emoto asked, stopping her own work at another station. “Why do they take the children?”

Now Stalac paused, letting an almost-inaudible tremor run through him before he finally replied. “The Striga’s ruling class achieved immortality by becoming neurovores, absorbing the bioenergies of other beings. Children, apparently.”

The Away Team went silent.

Then Grev barked, “Keep working! When Lt Shall rescues the abducted pups, they’ll be counting on us to get us home! Hurry!”

Then his combadge chirped, and Kami’s voice came through. “Chief? Lt Shall is ready to rescue the children, but she believes that’ll set off alarms. How close are you to taking over the alien vessel’s systems?”

The Tellarite swallowed. “Difficult to say, Captain. But… I’d recommend getting those pups out as soon as possible.”

“Why? What have you learned?”

“Mr Stalac reports that this vessel is operated by a species called the Striga, who supposedly kidnapped children to steal their lifeforces. To consume them.”

There was a pause, and then Kami responded. “Acknowledged. The other Away team will commence the rescue; you might get company as a result, so get a move on. Surefoot out.”

Grev heard the taut emotion in her voice, and moved up to a free station, his forehead creasing in concentration. Form Follows Function, he reminded himself. There are only so many ways a weapons bank, or an environmental control system or a power core can be designed. The materials and language may vary, even drastically, but the principles behind them were universal-

“Twelve,” the new cadet, Tori, who showed a talent for invective Grev found pleasing, said aloud. “Stal, do you know how many fingers the Striga had? Assuming they had hands?”

“Hmm? Oh, they had six limbs, two pairs of arms, one pair of legs. And six digits on each limbs. Why?”

“Duodecimal,” Tori explained. “Not decimal. They used a twelve-base number system instead of ten like most humanoid races. Adapt your tricorders to adjust, it’ll quicken analysis.”

Grev chuckled as he followed the advice. “You’re a clever pup! That’ll certainly help compensate for your hideous features.”

Tori never looked up from her own work as she smirked. “I’m not worried about that, Chief, I’ll just keep standing next to you for comparison; you make me look like Miss Galaxy.”

Grev chuckled- but then, like the others, stopped and turned at the sound of cries from the corridor. Thykrill drew her phaser, just as Ree-Taan was flung into the room, landing with a resounding crash, her phaser flying from her grip.

Thykrill raised her phaser and fired at the appearance of several large robots, striding into the room on all six of their limbs. The orange beam struck one, and was seemingly absorbed without any effect on her target, as they rose up onto their hind limbs to stand erect.

Grev lunged for Ree-Taan’s dropped phaser, even as the Miradorn female bolted back to her feet and charged towards the robots, tackling one, until her opponent took hold of her, delivering an electric charge through its four manipulator limbs.

“Take cover!” Grev shouted at the others, firing at another of the robots. Like the first one, this one absorbed the beam – and then raised one of its limbs towards him, and the beam shot back through it and struck Grev in the chest.

The Tellarite sank into unconsciousness, unaware of the rest of his Away Team being contained by the robots… except for Stalac, who had burned his way out of the room through the nearest wall, leaving only a cloud of acid behind him.

*

In another part of the vessel, Rei-Taan froze, gasping. “Ree-Taan!”

C’Rash winced, looking back at him. “Quiet! I swear I’ll-”

But then she stopped as the young Miradorn looked distressed. “No! She’s been attacked! They all have! Robots have captured them! We have to go help-”

He started to move, but Gorman grabbed him. “Hold it, Cadet! You’re not going anywhere-”

“Get your hand off me, Human!”

Before C’Rash could intervene, her combadge chirped and Kami barked, “Lieutenant! The aliens consume the bio-energies of children! Get them out of there, now!”

C’Rash swallowed, tightening her hold on her phaser as she called out, “Misha! Now!” She looked to her team. “Let’s go! Hit them high!”

“My sister-” Rei-Taan protested.

“LATER! MOVE!”

They emerged, four phaser beams striking each of the robots present... none having any effect.

And then the robots rose up onto their hind limbs, raised the others and fired the beams back.

Gorman was struck and went down, Eydiir was caught with a glancing blow, but she managed to switch her phaser to her other hand and dive behind a nearby console. C’Rash dodged the returned beam completely and kept moving and firing, not giving the robots a chance to aim.

Urad, on the other hand, stood there and took the beams as easily as the robots did, even as he was raising the power levels on his phaser and firing back.

C’Rash saw what he was doing, and shouted, “No! Too high and they’ll cut into even your hide when they reflect back!”

The Hroch seemed to listen to her, and holstered his phaser, only to charge after them. “Get the children, Ma’am! I’ll hold them back!”

“No-”

Urad charged into them massive arms outstretched to gather up the robots, even as they were clamping their many hands upon him, delivering energy discharges into his thick grey hide.

C’Rash cursed – but knew she had to take the opportunity the cadet had given her. “Misha! Lead them this way! Hurry!”

A phaser whine drew her attention, and she ducked in time as Eydiir fired again, at a robot that had appeared from the shadows behind the Caitian. It absorbed the phaser blast, and was almost immediately firing it back. This time, Eydiir wasn’t swift enough to dodge it, and went down.

C’Rash rose, forgoing her phaser to deliver a kick to the back of one of the robot’s legs, sending it down onto one knee. Claws extended, she raked its back, creating a screeching sound but  leaving only shallow scratches on its surface.

The robot twisted its torso completely around, in a way impossible for most organic beings, swinging out its arm to send C’Rash smacking into the nearest wall, and dropping to the floor, insensate.

At the other side, Urad finally dropped under the unrelenting assault, landing with an almighty sound and not moving.

*

“Misha!” Naida clung to Misha’s arm, staring fearfully at the fight in front of them, the tiny Roylan child confused and afraid.

So was Misha. One moment, he was in the Crèche, under the workstation, not knowing what was going on. Then he saw Eydiir, but before she could reach him, something took him away.

And he ended up here, in this strange place, with a bunch of other cubs. Many he knew, like Naila and Mary Austen and Vanok and other cubs from the other ships in the Fleet. But no one knew where they were, even the older cubs!

Then these spider robots appeared, and started putting them in these wall booths… until he heard Cousin C’Rash nearby! They were supposed to be rescued!

Until they fought. And lost. What were they going to do now?

“Misha,” Naida pleaded now.

He was scared. But so was everyone else. And he remembered the story his sister Sasha told him, when she was a cub like him, and her class was attacked by pirates and they needed help, and though she was scared, she stepped up and took charge.

He saw C’Rash’s phaser nearby.

“Stay here, cubs,” he told Naida and the others.

Even as he went for it, he heard Papa’s voice in his head, telling him a million times over that phasers weren’t toys and he was never, ever to touch one. Misha wasn’t even allowed to play with fake ones in the Holodeck.

But this was a Merjency!

He raised the phaser with both hands to the nearest robot, the one who had hurt his cousin… and fired.

He yelped as the beam shot out and struck the robot. Without any effect.

He dropped the phaser.

The robot raised its arm towards him-

No. Don’t harm him.

The robot lowered its arm and stepped back. Misha looked around in confusion. He had heard a voice! A female voice, in his head! But who was it?

I am Mother Beldam. This is my home. Do you like it?

Misha bared his claws, his tail swishing behind him. “No! You Bad Lady! You hurt Cousin C’Rash, and Hungry Hungry Hippo, and Eydiir!”

It was their own fault, child. They came in here with weapons that could have harmed you. And me.

Misha looked around, showing his teeth to wherever the Bad Lady was hiding. “My Mama gonna fix you! She Captain! Big Boss! She kick your ass!”

The voice didn’t respond, at first.

Then it asked, Is your mother the one onboard your ship having a baby?

*

“Away Teams!” Kami demanded for the tenth time, trying desperately to keep her panic under control. Losing the Fleet’s children, and now sending almost a dozen cadets and crew over there… what was she thinking? “Lt Shall! Chief Grev! Respond! Anyone, respond-”

“Surefoot,” Stalac’s voice boomed over the speaker. “Cadet Stalac here.”

Beside Kami, Zir reacted, but kept quiet as Kami continued. “Stalac! What’s happening over there?”

“A group of automatons have attacked and restrained our party! They absorb phaser fire and can return it, they’re strong and can deliver electrical charges through their skin! I- I burned a hole in the nearest wall and escaped. I- I fled-”

Kami heard the emotion in the cadet’s voice, and despite her own storm of emotions for their current predicament, felt compelled to point out, “You did the right thing, Mr Stalac, because now we have more information than we did before. We’ve lost contact with Lt Shall’s team, have you heard from them?”

“No, Ma’am. Should I go reconnoitre for them?”

“No.” She glanced at Zir, then thought about it. The young woman was under enough responsibility she wasn’t prepared for, and it wouldn’t be fair for Kami to lean on her for advice. But was there anyone else with qualifications? With half of their skeleton crew captured over there… “How far along did you get with deciphering the Striga control systems?”

“Rather well, I thought, Ma’am. We deciphered their number system, the language, the principles behind-”

“Thank you, Mr Stalac. I want you to find yourself a safe place to resume your efforts to take control of the vessel’s systems, with emphasis on disabling those robots, and commandeering the Striga vessels so that we can make our escape.”

Now hesitation crept into his voice. “Ma’am, I- I don’t know if I can do this alone-”

“Yes you can,” Zir suddenly spoke up, her voice commanding and confident. “You multitask better than any of us Carbs, and you’re smarter than all of your Science professors back at the Academy. You can do this.”

There was a pause, and then, “Yes. Yes, I can.”

Kami nodded appreciatively at the Orion as she added, “Get to work, keep us updated.”

“What about the children, Ma’am? The hostages?”

“You leave that to us. Surefoot out.”

“Captain?” Zir suddenly said, her expression pensive but lit with inspiration. “Request permission to lead another Away Team over there.”

“No. We’ve lost too many already. Phasers, brute force, won’t work against those robots. Mr Stalac’s efforts might.”

“Yes, Ma’am, but- just in case, I have an idea. Just Mr Boone and me, using… something other than phasers or brute force.”

Kami regarded her – but then shook her head and looked away. “No. I’m not putting any more of you cubs in danger-”

“Captain,” Zir said softly now, almost in a whisper, making Kami look back. “I’m not a little girl. You know what I’ve been through to get here, better than anyone else. I handled that. I can handle this.”

Kami frowned… and was once more humbled. “Proceed.”

Zir rose, as did Peter from the Medical station, but Astrid turned in her chair away from the Helm. “Nothing I can do for you, Fearless Leader?”

“Yes: be the best pilot in the Fleet you keep telling us you are, for when we finally bust out of this place.”

The human woman held out her hands dramatically, magnanimously. “Oh, that’s easy.”

*

The Klingon Task Force was amassing as they approached Sherman’s Planet. Amassing… and disappearing, as was expected, before they struck.

The Bridge of the Triton was massive compared to the Surefoot, with a large section in the rear for Tactical Operations. Hrelle stood there with T’Varik, staring at the transparent displays, watching, waiting. Waiting for the Klingons to decloak and attack. Waiting for the Thirteenth Fleet to respond.

Waiting for this madness to end as swiftly as possible, so he could get back to more important business: finding his wife and son. His ship. His life. It was all onboard that little Sabre-class vessel, with the exception of Sasha, and his adopted clan back on Cait.

“Our people are very capable,” T’Varik noted suddenly. “They will survive.”

He looked to the Vulcan. “Yes. Yes, they are. Thank you for that.”

She swallowed. “I say it for myself, as much for you. Of late, I have become very conscious of mortality… and of seizing every opportunity when it arises, in case it never comes again-”

“Captain?”

Hrelle looked to his right. Joe Jacobs stood nearby, offering his lifetime of experience and advice on Klingons for the upcoming battle. “Yes, Admiral?”

The old man smirked. “I’ve been out of the uniform for many months now, but you youngsters keep referring me to my old title.”

Hrelle couldn’t help but smirk back at the thought of being a ‘youngster’. “If it bothers you, Sir-”

“No, it doesn’t.” His gaze burned through the tactical displays towards the centre of the Bridge, where Tattok sat, his back to them, giving orders. “Don’t be too angry with him. He knows this is the last place you want to be right now. And if he could spare you, and a ship-”

“I know. And I’m not angry with him. I’m too busy crapping myself that this idea of mine won’t work.”

Jacobs chuckled. “It’s sound.”

“Agreed, Sir,” T’Varik added. “It is an inspired idea.”

Hrelle made an unconvinced sound. “And I can’t believe that the Klingons would annihilate a world out of pique. Even under Gowron’s orders.”

Jacobs focused on the steady decrease of blips on the display, as almost the entire Klingon Task force had now cloaked. “Sometimes… Klingons just unleash their Beast, with no rhyme or reason. Do you know what I mean, Captain?”

“Yes. I do.” Hrelle’s gaze narrowed as his heart raced. It was time… “Admiral!”

Tattok never turned around. “All ships, Stand By! Activate the Tachyon Spritz!”

In the space ahead, a series of pre-arranged satellites stretched out over a cubic light year came to life, releasing omnidirectional bursts of tachyons at microsecond intervals.

And where the tachyons intersected with dozens of cloaked ships, phantom patterns appeared.

“OPEN FIRE!” Tattok ordered. “ALL SHIPS!”

Hrelle watched as the Triton, Essex, Pollux, Iberia and Philadelphia let loose a simultaneous volley of photon and quantum torpedoes, many making contact with Klingon targets and knocking them out of their cloaked states. Others were dropping out of cloak voluntarily now to focus their power on their weapons.

As the front line Starfleet vessels fired phasers to give their torpedo bays time to reload, and the second line moved up to supplement, Hrelle grunted distractedly at the readings. It had been an almost last-minute idea of his, a 3-D variation on a tachyon detection grid that the Enterprise had developed a few years ago during the Klingon Civil War, but covering a wider area and not employing ships that would weaken the detection if they were attacked. He wasn’t entirely sure it would work.

“Nice one, Captain,” Jacobs remarked. “They might make you an Admiral for this.”

“I hope not, Admirals are useless bastards.” As Jacobs chuckled, Hrelle focused on the intentional weak spots in the Spritz field, near the magnetic pole of Sherman’s Planet, which he expected at least a few cloaked Klingons to discover and use… he sent the signal to their own ships, hiding deeper in the atmosphere, and quickly he confirmed the ascent of the Ajax, the Featherwind and the Minotaur, weapons firing, sweeping the space Hrelle believed the Klingons were likely to take to retain their cloaks as long as possible.

Two Birds of Prey were struck, kicked out of their cloaked states. A third emerged to engage the Starfleet ships.

And so it began: the Battle for Sherman’s Planet. As Hrelle watched, offering the Fleet orders and advice as and when he saw fit, he wondered if – when – Kami brought their ship back, if it would be to a world flying the Federation’s banner, or the Klingon’s… or a Quarantine flag, having been rendered uninhabited by metagenic weapons.

Stay safe, Kami. I’m coming for you. As soon as I can.

*

From the Surefoot’s Ops Station, Gamma Squad Leader Jexa-Naku reported curtly, “Cadets Dassene and Boone have beamed over to the Striga vessel… Captain.”

Kami heard the barb in the Grazerite’s voice, guessing it was due to Kami not choosing her to be First Officer in Zir’s absence. Under other circumstances, Kami would have taken the time to counsel the cadet.

But that wasn’t her job right now. She looked to the one she’d chosen to sit beside her. “Thank you for coming back up here, Zeke.”

Masterson shrugged. “Don’t know what help I can be. I’m a Doctor, not a Bridge Officer.”

“You’re also the Commanding Officer for the Medical Staff,” she reminded him. “You might not have Bridge qualifications, but you’ve got maturity, and... Whore’s Sense.”

He frowned, then understood. “I think you mean Horse Sense.”

She frowned back. “That… doesn’t sound much better.” She looked ahead, with a sober expression. “A race that feeds on children… it’s anathema to me.” She nodded to the huge black Striga vessel on the viewscreen. “Maybe worse than the Borg. That thing… its occupants… it’s like a tumour in our Galaxy.”

Before he could respond, something appeared at the corner of her eye. At first she thought it was one of the cadets approaching… until her hackles rose, and she followed them to her feet, others following.

A dark figure was coalescing in the corner of the Bridge near the main viewscreen: shadows and mist, and fragments of black and grey like remnants, or feathers, swirling around, forming a tall humanoid shape: a skeletal face with glossy bulbous eyes centred within a round wrinkled face, gossamer hair rising and floating to unseen currents, and six pairs of taloned hands and feet emerging from ragged cloaks. It was a tatterdemalion, a spectre, but offered an ancient, regal bearing as it regarded the Bridge.

Movement to Kami’s right confirmed the Security cadet had risen, phaser pointed at the intruder. But Kami raised a hand to him, her heart racing in the presence of the alien, an instinctive dread that made her tail smack the Captain’s chair in anxiety. “I’m Captain Kami Hrelle, of the USS Surefoot, representing the United Federation of Planets-”

Federation? It snarled at her abruptly, its voice reaching the minds of all around it rather than their ears, but sounding like dirt shovelled into a grave. You are subjects of those genocidal degenerates?

Kami blinked in confusion, but then understood, having read the accounts of the Striga. “No, not the First Federation; they are not the power they once were, and are now confined to one or two systems. We’re a different Federation: an alliance of over a hundred and fifty worlds. In fact, we are the main power in this Quadrant for the last couple of centuries. You are one of the Striga, I expect?”

It offered a ghoulish smile. I am Mother Beldam. I am the Last of the Striga. It was looking intently at Kami- no, at her belly,

She clutched her stomach and stiffened. “We are a peaceful people. Return the children you have abducted, and the hostages you have taken, and we will leave.”

Beldam’s open nostrils twitched. No. You won’t. I have met your offspring.

“Misha?” Her claws popped out. “If you’ve touched him-”

He is safe, it assured her, though with a mocking tone, as it moved around the Bridge, and crewmen and cadets backed away instinctively. Such a little warrior, lifting a weapon to defend others, despite his own fear. You should be proud.

“Let him go!” Kami snarled. “Let them all go! You don’t need them!”

Beldam stopped and glared at her with milky, contemptuous eyes. Don’t tell me what I need and don’t need. I have survived for millennia, when all my sisters, all my subjects, have gone the way of dust and shadow.

“You survive on the lives of innocent children,” Kami accused, sickened at actually seeing one of these things in the flesh, hearing it speak, even if it was just in her head.

Oh? Are they more innocent than the livestock you breed and raise to feed yourselves?

“That’s different! These are intelligent, sentient beings!”

By your limited definitions, perhaps.

“As it happens, we no longer have to subsist on living beings, Madame,” Masterson interjected, standing up protectively beside Kami. “We have developed technology that allows us to create foods based on proteins that do not originate from animals or plants.” He held out an open hand to her. “And we can do the same for you. We have encountered other neurovorous beings like yourself who live on bioenergy. We can develop a means of allowing you to move away from your current source of… sustenance.”

It turned to him now. You would do that? Why?

“It’s our way,” Kami answered. “We strive to live peacefully with others. We try to help. You don’t have to keep raiding our space.”

Beldam turned back to her. I slumber long between meals, and my Servitors, as loyal and dutiful as they are, make for poor conversationalists. I do not often learn much about the Galaxy beyond my refuge. Come. Come back with me, and we will speak… Mother to Mother.

“The Hell you say!” Masterson barked, his hand turning into a fist. “No damn way is she going with you, ya harpy!”

Beldam made a screeching sound like a mortally-wounded bird. Then my Servitors will flush your crew into space!

“No!” Kami sounded. “Do you promise to release them unharmed?”

I give you my word I will release them.

“And the children?”

Beldam tilted her head. If you can convince me that your technology can adapt to my… tastes… then, yes, you may take the little darlings back with you.

Kami clutched her belly; Sreen wouldn’t settle, obviously reacting to her mother’s dread.

And her suspicions that this creature was lying through its jagged teeth. None of them, not the children, the crew, the ship, would make it out of here alive if it could help it.

But what choice did Kami have?

Besides, it hadn’t mentioned the cadets that were still free over there. If Kami could distract it long enough… “I’ll go.”

“No!” Masterson protested sharply. “Kami, you can’t go with this monster! You can’t trust her!”

Kami faced him. “Carry on with the ongoing operation, Doctor. If you don’t hear from any of us… make sure the Tumour we discussed is removed. By any means necessary.”

*

Zir and Peter moved cautiously down the dark corridor, Zir clutching her Weapon of Choice, hoping she made the right decision, confident that she had – but glad for the back-up phaser on her belt. Peter was similarly equipped, but also carried a medical kit slung under one arm, and a tricorder in his hand that kept his attention.”Multiple humanoid lifesigns, one hundred metres ahead.” He grunted. “Hope there’s no spiders here, or Stal’s gonna pee-burn his way through the next five decks.”

Zir grunted too, but was unable to take her thoughts away from the gravity of their mission. “Kami’s been amazing throughout this. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if my child was abducted, can you?”

“Yes.”

She smirked now. “And how many kids have you got?”

“One.”

That stopped her in her tracks, as she looked at him. “Excuse me?”

The human male breathed in, reluctantly meeting her gaze. “I have a daughter. Her name’s Abby. She’s just turned three.”

Her jaw dropped. He was being serious! “Where is she?”

“Back on Gault, with her mother and our farm collective.”

Zir felt herself turning olive. All this time together, and he never mentioned her. “But I thought- I mean, you like men, don’t you?”

Now he flushed. “Yeah, I do… but before I knew that for certain, I… explored my options. Abby was the result.”

“Wow. And, uh, are you going back to her and her mother-”

“When I graduate and get my first posting, Abby will be living with me. Her mother’s… not interested in coming along. Or in being a mother, really.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

His expression sharpened. “I’m not ashamed of her. It’s just not something I’ve felt comfortable talking about before. Maybe we should get back to finding the kids and the hostages?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Zir continued down the corridor, still reeling from the revelation – Gisjacheh, one of her team was a parent! – slowing down as they neared a lighted doorway. She signalled for Peter to stay quiet as she stopped and peered around a corner.

She looked out into a large chamber, lined along the walls with glass booths and drawers, all filled with children: confused, afraid.

In the centre of the chamber, two Servitors were piling the bodies of Lt Shall and her Away Team – Zir couldn’t tell if they were just stunned, or worse – both of the automatons needing to work together to move Urad’s massive body. Then there was a third by another wall, keying in controls beside a hatch.

She peered at it, feeling her ears pop. It looked like… Gods… was that an airlock they were opening?

They were going to eject the Away Team into space! Maybe even just evacuate the air from in here and let them suffocate!

Immediately she raced out, moving to the nearest Servitor, whose back was to her, and she raised her weapon and fired.

The acrid smell of the polythylomer sealant spray coated the rear of the machine, even as it turned to face her, reaching out.

She aimed the sprayer’s nozzle at its feet and fired again, coating them, their articulated limbs, and the floor around them.

It took a step towards her. And another.

But then it froze in place, making an obvious effort to make any movement, but its struggles were in vain.

The other two Servitors approached from either side. “PETER!”

“Got it!” He unslung his own sprayer and they each fired at one of the remaining Servitors.

They, too, ended up petrified.

Zir ignored the nauseated feeling in her stomach and continued applying the spray around the Servitors, until she was confident they were immobilised. Then she dropped her sprayer and checked on the Away Team, her medical knowledge basic but workable, but allowing Peter to take the lead. Urad, Lt Shall, Gorman, Eydiir, that Miradorn with the attitude- “They’re all alive?”

He nodded, opening up his kit and retrieving a hypospray. “Phaser stuns, or in Urad’s case, some sort of electrical discharge – but Lt Shall has a bad concussion. I’ve got some stimulants for others, but we need to get the Lieutenant back to the ship. You go see to the kids.”

She nodded, rose and moved to the nearest chamber, seeing Misha within. He was pounding on the transparent door, and she tried to reassure him as she studied the controls on the side. It seemed basic enough, but-

The door slid open into itself, and Misha bolted out and hugged her tightly. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Zir had to fight to suppress her wellspring of emotion as she hugged him back, thinking about her own brother back home, and how he might have reacted in such a horrible situation. “You’re safe now, Captain Misha. Now let’s get the others freed!”

He nodded, but then asked, “What about the Klingon cubs?”

“The… who?”

*

The battle had spread out over four million cubic kilometres around Sherman’s Planet, with the Fleet managing to keep the Klingon ships back, and victories and losses recorded on both sides.

Hrelle studied it all – and did not like any of it.

Then he spotted on his screens the IKS Augr, the Klingon ambulance ship, their counterpart to the Surefoot, commanded by Captain Julkrehl, a woman he met in the flesh once before, during an exchange of wounded POWs. She was… formidable, but then she had to be, being a woman, and in a role many Klingons considered had no honour. He watched as they attempted to recover the survivors of the battle cruiser IKS Grinlot, just destroyed by the Minotaur.

He had to contact her, to cut through this mishigas and see if a peaceful solution could be found. And then they could get back to finding the Striga, the Surefoot and the abducted children.

He looked up; Tattok and the Bridge crew were busy, but if they knew he was contacting the enemy in the midst of battle… on the other paw, Hrelle’s job now was to help the Thirteenth Fleet reach victory, and a possible cessation of hostilities would certainly count as that. Besides, he may have been temporarily posted to the Triton, but he was technically still the commanding officer of a vessel on the Interstellar Aid Registry, and permitted to communicate with similar vessels like the Augr for the purposes of providing medical assistance.

He hoped he could remember all these arguments for his court martial.

His own station had separate communications equipment to help coordinate the Fleet ships. “Augr, this is Captain Hrelle of the Surefoot. I need to speak with Captain Julkrehl, right now!”

Nearby, Jacobs looked up from his own station. “Esek? What are you doing?”

“Captain?” T’Varik echoed.

Hrelle raised a silencing finger to his muzzle, as his screen came to life, filling with the image of a scarred, haggard-looking Klingon female, a look of distracted contempt on her swarthy face. “What do you want, Captain?”

“I want to stop this insane War!”

Jacobs rose from his chair and approached, a look of disbelief on his face at Hrelle’s actions.

A look that Julkrehl seemed to share. “You have the gall to contact me, after your base, cowardly act?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“What type of filthy petaQs would take children? Swooping down with your probes, stealing them from our midst? Such perfidy could not go unanswered!”

Hrelle exchanged shocked glances with Jacobs and T’Varik– was that the trigger to this all-out assault from the Klingons? – before he looked back at Julkrehl. “You had children on your ships? They were taken? Ours were, too! It was a race called the Striga, they-”

The image rocked and flickered, and Julkrehl looked away for a second, before facing him. “And now you fire upon us? You have abandoned your own Rules of Engagement? So be it!” She cut the transmission at her end.

“No, wait-”

Hrelle clutched the edge of his station, as T’Varik scanned the tactical display. “The Minotaur has returned, and is firing on the Augr! The Klingon ship has its dorsal shields up, while they continue to try and collect the survivors of the Grinlot!”

Hrelle watched in disbelief, seeing the cruiser firing on the shields of the much smaller vessel, mercilessly battering at its shields. Ed Haney had always been a hotheaded arsehole, but to fire on an ambulance ship, even the enemy’s… he raised a hail. “Triton to Minotaur: cease firing on the Augr! It’s a non-combat vessel listed in the Interstellar Aid Registry! You are in violation of Starfleet Rules of Engagement! Stand down, that’s an order!”

He checked his readings: the Augr’s shields were weakening, they couldn’t divert any power to their weapons, no other Klingon ships were nearby to assist, but they were standing their ground, refusing to leave until they’d gathered all of their survivors in the area. He rose and strode around to face Tattok directly. “Admiral, the Minotaur is firing on the Augr, the Klingon ambulance vessel-”

Tattok never looked at him. “I’m a little busy here, Captain: you take care of it.”

Hrelle bit back a curse and returned to his station, seeing Jacobs trying without success to reach the Minotaur. “Haney’s not letting up. The twerp really wants blood.”

“Yeah.” Without hesitstion, Hrelle hailed the Ajax. “Weynik, get over to the Minotaur! Haney’s firing on the Augr while they’re collecting wounded!”

“What? That long stream of piss!”

“He’s not responding to our orders! Get over there and stop him!”

“I’m a little busy dealing with a D-7 here, thanks-”

“Listen to me! The Striga have taken Klingon children as well as our own! That’s why they’ve launched this attack, they think it’s our doing! We need to get this stopped! And our destroying a noncombat vessel won’t help our efforts! Now get over there, that’s an order!”

“They’ve lost kids, too? I’m on it, Wide Load! Ajax out.”

Hrelle let his friend take care of Haney, while he moved onto his next step, his furred hands dancing over his station’s interface. “I didn’t think there would be children on Klingon ships.”

“It’s uncommon, but it happens,” Jacobs replied. “Whole families can be raised on the larger warships, some never setting foot on planets.”

“The Ajax has come between the Augr and the Minotaur,” T’Varik reported. “The Minotaur has ceased firing. Good work, Captain.”

“My work’s not over yet.” He paused, and then hit Commit and leaned back in his chair.

Jacobs frowned at him. “What did you do?”

Hrelle breathed out. “Taking a gamble.”

Seconds later, Tattok’s voice boomed across the Bridge. “CAPTAIN HRELLE! FRONT AND CENTRE!”

Hrelle rose, ignoring Jacobs’ and T’Varik’s bemused expressions as he reported to Tattok’s chair. “Sir, I-”

The Roylan’s eyestalks fixed on him, and his normally impassive face was now creased in disbelief. “Did you just send a message containing classified tactical data from this vessel to General Garrajh on the Chukon?”

All eyes turned to Hrelle. “Tactical data on the Striga attack on our Fleet, Admiral-”

“And you diverted the Ajax from its assigned area to protect one of the Klingon ships?”

“The Klingon ambulance ship, yes, Sir- I did report this, you told me to take care of it myself-”

“Any particular reason for fulfilling Haney’s accusations of you being a Klingon Lover, Captain? Or shall I just have you arrested for treason?”

“The Striga took children from their ships too, Admiral. That’s why they attacked us.”

That gave Tattok pause.

Allowing Jacobs to approach and add, “Something like that would provoke the Klingons into this sudden attack on us, Admiral! Just look at how Haney reacted when it happened to us!”

“Admiral,” Hrelle urged softly. “Contact Garrajh. Call for a ceasefire. He’ll have had time to examine the data I sent him; he wouldn’t be able to resist.”

Tattok glanced between Hrelle and Jacobs and back again. “And how much of this is driven by your desire to continue your search for your family and ship?”

“A hell of a lot, Sir. That doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.”

The Admiral turned to the battle on the viewscreen. “Hail the Chukon.”

Part 4 of 4: Mother's Love