By the time the protocols were met, Hrelle had arrived at the airlock hatch, watching it slide open to reveal several armed individuals in black paramilitary uniforms, Romulan disruptor pistols aimed at him.
He raised his paws to them, inviting in a faux-dramatic tone, “Take Me To Your Leader.”
The guards seemed less than amused, manually frisking him before leading him into the depths of the station as the airlock closed to the Surefoot. He saw no one else, but took in the labels on the doors they passed: Medical Storage 2, Stasis Room 4, Sickbay, Stasis Room 3, Stasis Room 5- someone clearly intends to sleep through the War... “Nice place you guys have here. Where’s your Bowling Alley?”
No one responded. You toy soldiers should have included a sense of humour in your Survival Kits.
As they entered a turbolift and ascended to what Hrelle suspected would be their Ops Centre, he noted the ubiquitous symbols, both on the walls and on the uniforms: a stylised Terran letter A, closely resembling the Starfleet arrowhead logo, though he suspected that in this case, it was meant to represent Agar’s name. Was the human that egocentric?
His suspicions were confirmed as they entered Ops, an open-plan, split-level circular area, with an elevated office with transparent walls overlooking the ring of technicians at the various stations. It was like a hundred other research facilities and outposts he had seen… except for the thin black banners strung down over the surrounding walls, all adorned with the same letter A logo. And the large portrait over the office, the portrait of a stern-looking, pale-skinned human male with short-cropped iron-grey hair, large ears and a lantern jaw, looking down on all like that Big Brother figure from that old Terran novel.
Hrelle feigned insouciance as he glanced around the stations, identifying the ones controlling Security, Environment, Remote Probes, Cloaking Field, Power Management-
“Welcome, Captain Hrelle.”
He stopped and turned slightly to see the subject of the portrait standing at the top of the steps leading to the office. John Agar wore the same type of black paramilitary uniform as everyone else, but with more colourful ribbons, epaulettes and gold braids hanging here and there, providing a resemblance of some sort of high rank, though not any Hrelle could recognise. “Mister Agar-”
“President Agar,” the human corrected him from on high.
Hrelle blinked. “Excuse me? ‘President’?”
“Yes.” Agar smiled. “You are currently in the territory of Agar One, an Independent Sovereign State, of which I am President-for-Life.”
Hrelle kept his expression neutral. Mother’s Cubs… “Oh, I see. Well then, this is an honour, Mr President. Forgive my appearance; normal Starfleet protocol is to greet heads of state in dress uniform.”
Agar nodded sagely. “I believe I can overlook it, Captain, given your current desperate circumstances.”
Seven Hells, he’s genuinely into the role he’s created for himself here… Hrelle nodded back, stepping to the foot of the steps to ascend- only to stop when he heard the brush of the guard’s gloved hands grasp the disruptors in their holsters. “Well, I thank you for your understanding, and for your cooperation-”
Now Agar began to slowly descend, his shiny black boots clamping on the metal steps. “Let me be clear from the get-go, Captain: I’m a busy leader, and my business is survival and self-sufficiency, not cooperation. You forced my hand. And I promise, it’s going to cost you.”
The Caitian folded his hands behind him. “And I wish the circumstances hadn’t put me into this position, Sir. We were cut off from the rest of the Fleet at the end of the battle, loaded down with nearly two hundred survivors, we’re suffering from shortages of essentials, and now we’ve detected Shiprot on our hull-”
Agar stopped halfway down the step and shrugged. “With all due respect, Captain, that’s not my problem. I believe in Survival of the Fittest: I ask help from no one, and no one should expect help from me. And then you appear on my doorstep, putting my security at risk. I should have just fired upon you.”
Hrelle bristled. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that Federation law adjures private individuals and organisations to offer aid to Starfleet vessels during crisis situations-”
“I no longer recognise Federation law, Captain,” Agar declared sharply. “Or any outside authority. As I have already explained, this is an Independent Sovereign State, unaffiliated and unbeholden to the Federation or any other government.”
Hrelle made a show of casually glancing around, getting an idea of the area’s weak spots, the guards, who here was armed, who wasn’t... “And I have to admit, it’s quite an impressive set-up, Mr President. It must have taken you years to organise.”
Agar offered a smug reaction now. “I’ve seen the end coming for years. Seen it in the faces of my customers: soft, decadent, spoiled children clamouring for Romulan ale and silks, bleating like sheep when their replicated food is late or their Holodecks break down. Since emerging into the wider Galaxy, Humanity has allowed itself to become soft… mostly due to the influence of the weaker, non-human races we’ve encountered. No offence, Captain.”
“None taken,” Hrelle lied.
“And now, the Federation hangs by slender threads, threads now being torn asunder by the Dominion. The end will come in a matter of weeks. And then, like every bloated conqueror with no more Wars to fight, the Dominion will then tear itself apart.”
Hrelle raised a defiant chin to him. “The Federation may be stronger than you believe, Sir. We’ve suffered appreciable losses so far, yes, but we’re not down and out yet.”
Agar offered a mirthless smile. “Sentiments I’m sure have been shared by the Iconians, the Hurq, the Kalandans, the Triacans… those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”
Hrelle nodded diplomatically, wondering if such lessons included caveats about egomaniacal little tailstains setting up their own fiefdoms. “And so now you’ll use those Stasis Rooms I saw on the way in here to put yourselves in suspended animation? To hide away?”
“To wait, Captain. I, and my selected group of physically and genetically superior specimens of humanity, will outsleep Universal Armageddon.”
He turned and nodded to one of the technicians, who keyed something into his station.
Then music played, solemn organ music Hrelle didn’t recognise. And all the technicians rose from their places and faced Agar, as he continued, his voice raised to address them all. “First there was the dream; now there is reality. Here, in this untainted cradle in the sky, the future inheritors of the Galaxy will awake at the proper time, and like Gods will be sent out to reclaim the stars… under my flag.
And they, and their descendants, will pay deference to the Ultimate Dynasty which I alone have created here, and which I will pass onto my descendants.” He stretched out his arms to them. “From the first day of the New Era, they will be able to look out, and know that there is finally a Superior Being in the Heavens, watching over them!”
The technicians applauded. On cue. Their scents of fear at not appeasing Agar's ego telling Hrelle much more.
Hrelle remained cordial. Bubulah, you’re crazier than a flea-ridden shithouse rat in summertime… As Agar smiled generously and waved to his people to return to their work, Hrelle spoke up again. “Mr President, my people are preparing for the delivery of the algorithm and the torpedoes, while also emerging outside our hull to make the necessary repairs. We will be as quick as we...”
His words trailed away as he caught sight of a monitor at an adjacent station, displaying the image of large yellow articulated clamps extending from Agar One to secure themselves to the dorsal side of the Surefoot. His hackles rose, and he looked back at Agar. “What are you doing?”
His words trailed away as he caught sight of a monitor at an adjacent station, displaying the image of large yellow articulated clamps extending from Agar One to secure themselves to the dorsal side of the Surefoot. His hackles rose, and he looked back at Agar. “What are you doing?”
Agar looked to him, as if not aware of what was happening. “Oh, that? Just a safety precaution.”
“I didn’t agree for my ship to be clamped during our stay.”
“Once our business is concluded, then we’ll release your ship, Captain. I promise.”
Hrelle studied him… every instinct telling him that the man was as deceitful as he was insane. They would overwhelm the Surefoot, strip it of everything of use, and prevent them from leaving to tell others of the existence of this place.
And that any demonstration of doubt on Hrelle’s part would end his life, here and now, and leave his ship and crew unprotected. Of course, they would still kill him. It was just a matter of time.
He smelled the guards behind him, tensing, ready for his response-
So he made a show of relaxing and smiling, as if ignorant of the danger. “Well, that’s settled, then… but I should contact my people, let them know everything’s okay. After all, we don’t want them to get worried… and maybe overreact?”
Agar regarded him – did he suspect that Hrelle knew he was full of crap, that this was just a dance now? – before nodding to another technician. “Go ahead, Captain.”
Hrelle nodded. He could order an emergency beam-out… and if he wasn’t shot in the back, he would return in time to die with everyone else, when the station’s weapons carved them up like a roast on the table on Life Day before they could break free. He reached up to his combadge and tapped it, keeping calm. “Hrelle to Surefoot. Respond, please.”
T’Varik’s voice replied. “Captain, are you okay? The station has dropped docking clamps onto our dorsal hull!”
“I know, Commander, don’t worry, everything’s nice and meshuga here. The clamps are just to meet safety regulations while we get that repair work done outside. Speaking of which, is the work I assigned before I left proceeding?”
“...Yes, Sir. I trust you are returning now?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Agar interrupted.
“Sir?” T’Varik asked.
“One moment, Commander.” Hrelle looked to Agar. “Excuse me?”
The human smiled. “We would love to give you a tour of our facility. As you can imagine, we don’t often get the opportunity to show off. We’ll be done by the time your people have finished their work.”
Without looking, Hrelle heard the brush of leather gloves against the weapons behind him again.
Then he responded, “You heard that, Commander? I’m staying for a tour. You carry on.”
“Sir,” T’Varik protested. “Are you certain you’re okay?”
He chuckled. “Of course I am! Calm down already, you’ve become a bundle of nerves since your husband got you pregnant! Just carry on, do what you have to do to take care of things at your end.”
The Vulcan’s voice hesitated, but only for a second. “Aye, Sir. Surefoot out.”
The combadge chirped closed. The human and the Caitian exchanged glances, the latter noting, “Well, it looks like I’m all yours.”
Agar smiled. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
*
Deck 2 Fore – Bridge:
The senior officers looked to each other, T’Varik initiating with, “The Captain is in jeopardy.”
“Obviously,” Sakuth responded, glancing at C’Rash. “Unless of course your ‘husband’ has indeed impregnated you, in which case, I will offer my congratulations on your fecundity.”
The jet-furred Caitian hissed.
T’Varik drew closer. “The station’s dampening fields are blocking our sensors, communicators and transporters, and they have weapons targeted on us. Can we raise shields?”
“Not with the clamps on us,” C’Rash answered sourly. “And the clamps are in a place that our ship’s phasers can’t reach.”
“We are still connected via the airlock,” Sakuth reminded them. “We could launch an assault team through it to rescue the Captain.”
“Not without alerting the station,” T’Varik replied. There was a communication on the Ops board. “Bridge here.”
Neraxis’ voice responded. “Bridge, I’m at Airlock 1; there are some station people looking to collect… torpedoes?”
T’Varik’s brow furrowed. “Lieutenant Ostrow, under no circumstances is anyone other than Captain Hrelle allowed through that airlock. Inform the station personnel that we are still in the process of preparing the torpedoes for their delivery to them, but it will take one hour to implement. Then close that airlock and double the guards present.”
“Understood. Ostrow out.”
Sasha frowned at her. “They’re holding my Dad hostage over there, and you’re still gonna hand over the torpedoes to them?”
“Lieutenant, I assure you that the only way I will be delivering our torpedoes to them is via our torpedo tubes: fully armed, locked and loaded.”
Sakuth raised an eyebrow. “Such a magniloquent statement is uncharacteristic of you.”
T’Varik offered a cold glare in reply, and, “As we have not been on amicable terms for 24.72 years, I would surmise any assessment you might have as to my nature to be grossly out of date.”
The other Vulcan nodded, typically unoffended. “That is a valid judgement.”
C’Rash moved past them to her Tactical station, calling up visual images of the dorsal and ventral sides of the Surefoot, the huge docking clamps clutching them, and the weapons and sensor arrays on the station. Her tail grew still with concentration, and her intensity drew the others to follow, T’Varik prompting with, “You have a plan, Lieutenant?”
“I have an idea,” the Caitian muttered, pointing to various areas. “We can send people out in exosuits onto the dorsal side, to take out the weapons and inhibitor arrays with a simultaneous assault from phaser rifles. We’re probably being watched, but we can send them out with the weapons hidden in Engineering kits, faking other repairs to be done out there.”
“You have neglected to account for our continuing to be contained by the clamps,” Sakuth observed. “And the time it would take to phaser through them with rifles before Agar’s people were alerted and responded.”
C’Rash’s fur rose, and through clenched teeth informed her, “No, I haven’t. Our little Horta friend can burn through the duratanium in those clamps in seconds.”
T’Varik nodded in thought. “That is a viable plan. Lt Hrelle, alert Jonas in Engineering to assemble and suit up a team to clear the Shiprot on the ventral side, and make appropriate repairs with immediate effect; he has less than an hour to complete the work and return. Lt Shall, I assume you will be leading the Security team on the dorsal side?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Along with Mr Stalac, I want Neraxis, Thykrill and the Twins with me, they were the best in their classes with phaser rifles.” She indicated various places on the screens. “Once our Gearheads are done with their work and back inside, Stalac begins burning through the clamps, while we hit these points. When the dampeners are down, we locate and beam back the Captain and get the frick out of here.”
“An additional shooter would be advised for redundancy purposes,” Sakuth pointed out. “I have had considerable experience with a phaser rifle, and am willing to volunteer to accompany you outside.”
“Really?” Sasha grunted. “Giving you a rifle? Spare us.”
“Lieutenant...” T’Varik chided.
“I’d sooner have Spots out there,” C’Rash lamented, “But he’s been through so much this past week already.”
“‘Spots’?” Sakuth asked, bemused.
“The Hrelle’s nanny,” T’Varik replied.
The other Vulcan frowned at the Caitian. “You would sooner ask for help in extravehicular combat from a nanny than from me?”
C’Rash glared at her. “I’d sooner ask for help from Baby Sreen than from you.”
“As I recall, your Academy scores in this field were superlative,” T’Varik admitted. “I assume that your time flouting laws and ethics has not dulled your marksmanship skills?”
Sakuth stared back. “My marksmanship skills are not dulled.”
T’Varik finally nodded. “Then you will join Lt Shall; she will be in command.” To C’Rash she added, “Assemble and prepare your team. Lt Hrelle will take the Conn. I will brief Mr Stalac personally. I am certain he will be eager to participating in this mission.”
*
“I am sorry, Commander,” the Horta announced. “But I cannot assist you.”
The Vulcan blinked. “Excuse me, Ensign? If you are refusing an order-”
The lump of brown fibrous mineral grumbled. “It is certainly not a question of refusing, Commander, I can assure you! It’s that I can no longer generate acid to do as you ask!”
In Sickbay 1, Kit and the other members of the Science Team looked to each other, the EMH’s bald brow furrowing as he responded first, “What are you talking about, Ensign? Your medical file doesn’t indicate any issues with your acid secretion glands!” He produced a holographic sensor wand like an act of prestidigitation and passed it over the Horta. “As I stated: you’re perfectly healthy.”
“You’re mistaken, Doctor,” Stalac replied, the synthesised voice from the voder unit bolted to the side of him taking on a taut annoyance. He seemed to shift in place over his patch of the Sickbay carpet, trembling, before stopping and announcing, “See? I cannot. I’m not able to secrete.”
Eydiir drew up to him, looking suspicious. “How have you been able to eat without being able to dissolve minerals?”
“I haven’t. I’ve... not been hungry. But I am certain that once I return home, I will be cured.”
T’Varik regarded him, her brow furrowing, before ordering, “Everyone, please wait outside.”
Kit, Eydiir and the others started for the door. T’Varik stared at the EMH. The EMH stared back. “You must be aware that I can’t follow them, Commander. Frankly I’m shocked at the lack of understanding on your part of the limitations of holographic-”
“Computer: Deactivate the EMH.”
The image vanished in mid-reproof.
Alone now, T’Varik faced him. “Explain yourself.”
“Ma’am? I don’t understand-”
She folded her hands behind her. “Mr Stalac, do not waste my time or insult my intelligence, I am too old and tired to tolerate either from your base lies.”
“Commander, I am unable to secrete acid at this time-”
“More lies. Whether you are attempting to convince yourself or others, it is unbecoming in an intellect. It is more accurate to say that you refuse to do so. Ensign Stalac, have you not eaten since before the Jem’Hadar attack?”
Stalac rotated in place, the thin cilia along the uneven perimeter of his shell tapping anxiously. “Commander, Horta are capable of functioning for many weeks without food-”
“I did not ask for a report on the metabolic properties of your people, Ensign.” Then she softened her stance and voice. “Mr Stalac, though our biochemistries are radically different, we share numerous commonalities: a logical mind, a thirst for knowledge, a desire to serve… and an inability to properly manage the guilt and trauma we have experienced in the taking of the lives of others.”
Stalac rumbled. “Commander-”
“We have both killed. Not distantly, with weapons, but physically, viscerally… ‘up close and personal’, as the human expression puts it. Our reasons for taking this action, however selfless and justified, do not lessen that guilt and trauma that it engenders in us. Nor should it. We are beings of conscience.”
“Commander… from hatching, all Horta are taught about the terrible, tragic circumstances behind our first encounter with human miners a century ago. We are taught about how very dangerous we can be to the carbon-based lifeforms that fill the Galaxy, even through a process as simple as eating or moving through rock.
You Carbs are all so very, very fragile to us. We must never forget how easily we can kill you.
Commander, when the Jem’Hadar beamed into the Shuttlebay and began ruthlessly killing the medical staff, the civilians, even the wounded… when they shot my squadmate, my friend Peter… I did not forget. I remembered. And I took terrible advantage of what I can do.
Commander T’Varik... effective immediately, I must formerly resign my commission from Starfleet. I am too dangerous to be around humanoids. I should return to my homeworld. I will eat then and there, where it is safe and I can’t hurt anyone again.”
“I see.” T’Varik waited a heartbeat before responding, “Resignation Refused.”
“What? With respect, Commander, you can’t do that!”
“Ensign, do not even begin to attempt to instruct me in what I can or can’t do. You will not discard your considerable time and training by resigning and retreating. You will remain, and you will fulfil your obligations, and the immense potential I see in you. And after this crisis has abated, you will resume your Counseling sessions, to help face your guilt, and learn how to move on past it. As I must.
And you will eat. I expect your next meal to be of such prodigiousness as to make even your squadmate Ensign Kaldron gasp in awe.”
More softly again now, she added, “Mr Stalac, it is inevitable that as each of us travels through life, we will commit acts we regret. Acts we can never undo. Perhaps even acts that require punitive measures, though in your case, it could be successfully argued against that. We must not take from these acts the wrong lessons. Your returning to Janus IV will not erase your action, or your guilt; an ignored problem does not spontaneously solve itself.
The only way to salvage something from these acts is to learn from them, and when possible to strive not to repeat them. Paramount to all of this is to rely on those around you, who are here to help and support you.”
The only way to salvage something from these acts is to learn from them, and when possible to strive not to repeat them. Paramount to all of this is to rely on those around you, who are here to help and support you.”
She knelt beside him, reaching out.
Stalac rumbled backwards. “No- You mustn’t- I might-”
“Do not move; that is an order.” She placed her hand on his shell, felt the heat, the potential beneath the silicon surface. “I am not afraid of being hurt by you, Mr Stalac. Neither are your friends and shipmates. We all trust you, as all of you trust me.
We must now learn to trust ourselves...”
*
Agar did not accompany Hrelle on the tour, citing some false excuse but allowing his armed guards to show the Starfleet Captain around in Agar’s absence. Hrelle didn’t mind, already focused on his next moves, allowing Agar’s Chief of Security, a thick slab of human named Grant, to lead the way… with two guards bringing up the rear. They were moving in a direction opposite to the one they had taken from the Port Airlock on Deck 19, but he took in the expected Jefferies Tube hatches, emergency fire suppressant and medical kits mounted in the bulkheads, communication panels- monitors overhead-
His ears twitched as he heard a woman’s voice from a receiver, resting inside Grant’s left ear. “Agar says not to dump him into space, his body might be seen before we’re ready to deal with them. Put him in the Recyclers.”
Hrelle watched Grant reach up and touch the side of the receiver, sending an acknowledgement signal.
Hrelle flexed his fingers, twisted his neck around to work out the kinks.
They stopped at the turbolifts. Hrelle stared at the back of Grant’s head, smelling and listening to gauge the distance and positions of the two guards behind him. “So, what are we gonna see first?”
Grant glanced over his broad shoulder. “The Hydroponics Gardens.”
“Really? Not the Recyclers?”
Grant turned and swung out with his fist, the other two charging forward.
Hrelle ducked the fist, twisting to drive a powerful kick into the second guard’s groin, sending him backwards, even as he twisted to grab the third and fling him into Grant – next time, idiots, stay back and draw your weapons – using his claws, he raked Grant’s face before diving for the fallen third guard, landing his weight on him while reaching for the weapon, confirming its design- yes, a disruptor, Romulan design, short range, 1.19 recharge cycle between shots, compensating-
He fired at the second guard, who seemed to have recovered quicker than Grant. He brought Grant down a second later.
His elbow into the third guard’s face beneath him saved him a shot, even if it cost him some bloodstains on his jacket.
He fired upwards at the cameras, as he moved to the other guards, grabbing their weapons and other equipment and tucking them all into his jacket, grunting. Damn fabricators were shrinking his uniform again…
*
Deck 2 Fore – Starboard EVA Locker Room:
C’Rash ground her teeth as she slipped her tail into the articulated tube of her exosuit, glancing at the Miradorn twins Ree-Taan and Rei-Taan. “Why aren’t those rifles disassembled and stowed in the Engineering kits?”
The tall, stocky humanoid siblings with the high bisected foreheads grunted, still focused on their seemingly-constant bickering, Rei-Taan sneering at his sister. “Told you we should have put them away before now, Assface.”
“Don’t be such a Cringe, Nanoknob.”
“You just can’t stop grabbing your weapon, can you?”
“And how often has Mom had to say that to you?”
“Stow it, you pair of Crotch Itches!” Neraxis snapped, readying her exosuit helmet, her bald blue head purpling with anger. “The Captain’s on his own over there! He needs us focused on the task ahead!”
In the rear of the group, Sakuth was already fully suited up, her own phaser rifle stowed in her Engineering kit. Her voice carried over her communicator to the rest of them. “It appears Captain Hrelle’s decision to promote the latest cadets into full service was-”
“-His business,” C’Rash interrupted, baring her teeth in the Vulcan’s direction. “Not yours or anyone else’s. And I have full faith that everyone here will rise to the challenge… not just for the Captain’s sake, but for the rest of us.” She looked to Neraxis, Thykrill, the Twins… and finally Stalac, who didn’t need a suit for the excursion. “The Bridge is examining the station’s features, and will feed us all the positions and targets. Mr Stalac, you know what you’re doing out there already, you stay near me until we’re good to go.” She paused, before asking, “Is that clear, Ensign?”
The Horta rumbled, his voder unit expressing a reluctant, “Yes, Lieutenant. Very.”
C’Rash looked down at him; she knew from T’Varik about Stalac’s current taciturn attitude following his encounter with the Jem’Hadar, and had considered giving him some encouragement, but decided not to give Sakuth any more fuel to doubt the efficiency of her team, and brought her helmet down over her head and secured it. “Shall to Bridge: status of the Engineering team?”
T’Varik responded. “Lt Ostrow confirms another twenty minutes, Minimum. Why have you not yet ventured outside?”
She adjusted the pelvic sections of her exosuit. “This thing feels a little more snug than when I last wore it, okay?”
There was a pause, and then her partner responded with, “I will make a note to be extra vigilant in helping you work off the extra kilograms that married life has obviously encouraged.”
Despite herself, and the general situation of the last few days, the jet-furred Caitian couldn’t help but smile at the offer. “Well, if you really want to help, Marmalade, I wouldn’t mind a spot of Fluttertail from you tonight-”
Then Sasha’s voice cut in. “You two know you’re not on a secure channel, don’t you?”
C’Rash ground her teeth. “What do you want, Cousin?”
There was a chirp in C’Rash’s ear, confirming the channel was now secured. “Just reminding you to watch yourself out there with that treacherous bitch nearby.”
“Lieutenant Hrelle, Captain Sakuth remains a superior officer,” T’Varik admonished.
“And yet, you knew exactly who I was talking about,” Sasha pointed out.
“That will be quite enough.” T’Varik paused, before adding to C’Rash, “However, were I not a consummate professional in control of my emotions, I would echo those sentiments about the treacherous bitch. Take care, Beloved.”
C’Rash grunted. “Understood. Now both of you piss off and let me get going. And let me know when Jonas and his team are on their way back inside. Shall out.” She turned to see the others were all ready, and opened her comm to the rest of them. “We’re good to go. Remember, we’re meant to look like an Engineering team, moving around out there making repairs. So act like Gearheads.”
Ree-Taan reached up and smacked the back of her brother’s helmet. “She said Gearhead, not Shithead. Got it?”
“You keep talking crap, your ass is gonna think it’s out of a job.”
Behind them, Thykrill made a sound. “How did you two make it as far as you have without killing each other?”
C’Rash moved to the airlock controls… fighting to ignore the plummeting of her stomach. Not a week ago, during the battle, Jhess and she had been in a similar place, deliberately opening an airlock into deep space to clear out a team of Jem’Hadar… only Spots and she didn’t have the benefit of exosuits at the time. She was safe now, of course… but that didn’t lessen the terror she now instinctively felt.
She activated the controls, hearing the air in the room hiss away rapidly, before the door slid open. She picked up the Engineering kit hiding her rifle. “Remember your training, people, and let your gravity boots do the rest. Except for you, of course, Mr Stalac. Try not to drift away.”
“Understood, Lieutenant. I promised my Egg Mother I would be a rising star… not an asteroid.”
C’Rash smiled.
*
On the Bridge of the Ajax, Weynik leaned forward at the sound of the alert, already guessing at it, but ordering, “Report.”
Behind him, his Zakdorn First Officer Kohanim replied, “Jem’Hadar attack squadron on an intercept course, ETA five minutes!”
“Red Alert!” As the lights eclipsed into crimson around him, Weynik leaned back. “Arm phasers and torpedoes, raise shields-”
“Captain!” Kohanim interrupted. “Incoming transmission from the Mother’s Fury!”
The Roylan lifted up his head. What were they doing? They should have been readying for the inevitable fight as well! “Onscreen!”
The starfield at warp on the viewscreen was replaced by a dark, long Bridge more resembling a Klingon design, with Caitians at various stations, and a more familiar female Caitian in an elevated chair. “Fleet Captain, what’s-”
Ma’Sala Shall interrupted him. “Power down your weapons and shields, reduce speed to Warp Three, and take your vessel in to run a parallel course fifty metres over our starboard deflector array.”
“What? With respect, Fleet Captain, we don’t need your protection, we can manage ourselves in a fight quite well, thank you!”
The black-furred Caitian female’s topaz eyes narrowed. “We’re out here to find and retrieve the Surefoot. Fighting now will only attract unwanted attention. Do as I tell you.”
“You intend to protect us with your shields? What’s the point? They’ll still call for reinforcements-”
“Captain Weynik, there is a time to growl,” she informed him. “And a time to Prowl. Follow my lead.”
He was ready to argue further… until she said the word ‘Prowl’. And then he wasn’t. He cocked his head. “Power down weapons and shields. Helm, drop speed, and take us in as advised.”
The transmission ended, returning the image of space dilated at warp speed.
“Captain,” Kohanim protested, his oatmeal-coloured face blanching. “We’ll be defenceless.”
“No, we won’t.” He swallowed, turning to look at his First Officer. “In fact, I think they’ll pass us completely.”
Kohanim frowned… but quickly comprehended, and recovered, his hands moving over his station controls. “Shutting down active scans, tightening energy signatures… temporarily turning off Ship’s Logs.”
From her own station at Ops, Weynik’s new Second Officer, a green-skinned Rigelian male name Bezrek, looked up and frowned. “Captain, I must confess to a total ignorance as to what we are doing.”
Weynik nodded. “Good, Lieutenant. For the sake of plausible deniability, you need to remain in that state.” He looked ahead, seeing the edge of the prow of the Mother’s Fury just beneath them, close enough that they were almost touching hulls… and imagining the Prowl, the cloaking device he knew the Caitians employed on occasion, enveloping both vessels. He had employed one such cloak previously on the Ajax, when Sasha was still onboard, in their mission against the Ferasans, a clear violation of the Treaty of Algeron, which applied not only to Starfleet vessels, but also vessels of the member worlds of the Federation.
But he also knew that the Caitians were different from other member worlds, with a long and contentious history against outside forces, and it wasn’t his place to lecture them. Not that they’d listen to him anyway, or that he could deny the benefits of a cloak at times like this.
And he certainly didn’t want to risk themselves before they found Captain Meatball… or worse, risk Ma’Sala’s wrath.
“The Jem’Hadar attack force is approaching,” Kohanim announced, his voice low, hesitant, as if afraid to be too loud and attract the enemy’s attention. “Approaching…” Then he breathed out. “And passing us. With no evidence of their detecting us.”
“Good.” Weynik nodded, forcing himself to relax his hold on the arms of his chair. “Not that we couldn’t have handled them ourselves single-handedly, of course.”
“Oh, absolutely, Captain,” Kohanim agreed… a little too dryly for Weynik’s tastes.
*
As alarms blared around him, Hrelle set another disruptor on Self-Destruct, resting it against a particular ODN junction, before scurrying away down a vertical Jefferies Tube as quickly as he could, reminded of an ancient computer game a much-younger Sasha had been addicted to one summer: some noisy two-dimensional nightmare where a big yellow ball kept eating little white balls in a maze, as ghosts chased around, the yellow ball occasionally gaining the upper hand by eating certain balls (there was an odd obsession about balls) that let the player eat the ghosts before the ghosts ate the player. Sasha loved it, Hrelle complained about the noise of it… though on more than a few nights, he tried it himself to try and show off to his stepdaughter.
Above him, the disruptor detonated, the blast wave travelling down and washing compressed air over him, even as the destroyed junction, and the others he had deliberately taken out, left large sections of the station in the dark, powerless and blind to those watching in safety from Ops. Meanwhile, he nought himself some more time, before the ghosts caught up and ate his balls.
Memory and experience told him to avoid the Armoury and Shuttledeck, targets he hoped the enemy would think he’d be aiming for, aiming for the less obvious but also less secure areas, like the Barracks and Recreation Decks.
The earpiece he had liberated from one of the fallen guards confirmed his hopes. “We’ve lost power on Deck 19! It’s chaos down here!”
“Double the guards on all access into 17 and 18! The Captain’s making his way up there!”
“What about his ship? If they get wind of what’s going on-”
“They won’t if you people do your jobs and kill the fat bastard!”
Hrelle frowned, making his way further down, then along a cross-tube again. How rude…
*
This… was fricking weird.
C’Rash stayed focused on the practised cycle of walking with the pace that allowed her gravity boots to safely carry her along the hull of the top of the Surefoot, but couldn’t help but look up and around. She was used to real-life and holographic representations of extravehicular activities, where the starfield on display was… normal.
Here, however, within the warping properties of the station’s cloaking field, and without the computerised compensation of a viewscreen, the space made her feel like she was in a bottle dropped into an ocean, with the universe beyond insanely distorted through the glass.
That she knew the looming station overhead had weapons trained in their direction didn’t help her mood. “Alright, Boys and Girls, we’re on a Secure Channel, but we’ll stick to Standard Code Designations. Rockstar: stick with me. Big Blue: move to the Starboard Aft Vent. Little Blue: the Port Aft. Tweedledee, Tweedledum: take positions at the base of the ship registry pawprint emblem. Evil Queen of Lies: move to the Central Maintenance Strut near Bridge Module Hatch One.”
The other members of her team complied, though Sakuth remained where she was, the consternation on her face visible through the clear visor of her helmet. “Have you selected what is obviously my designation in order to be deliberately provocative, Lieutenant?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Evil Queen. Please take your assigned position.”
The Vulcan turned and proceeded without further comment.
C’Rash forced down her plummeting stomach to move towards Bridge Module Hatch Two, Stalac following, his voice carrying into her helmet from his bolted combadge via a secure channel. “Lieutenant, is it an inopportune moment to ask you a personal question?”
C’Rash ground her fangs, regretting showing a lack of discipline in front of more impressionable crewmates. “Ignore the banter between Captain Sakuth and me, Ensign-”
“I am not referring to whatever is obviously ongoing between you two, Ma’am,” he informed her. “It is none of my affair.”
She nodded in reply, before she realised that doing that, inside her helmet, beside a being with no eyes, was a pointless exercise. “You may ask, Mr Stalac. You’re not guaranteeed an answer, however.”
“I understand. Lieutenant, how do you deal with killing in the line of duty?”
She had been ready to dismiss his request – she wasn’t out here to have a heart-to-heart with a living rock – but on the other hand, they had time to kill… and a part of her was genuine in wanting to help him. “You listen to others, Ensign. You listen to experts. To the people who are there to help you. You do not listen to the voice inside you. The one telling you the worst about you. Calling you a killer, a monster. That Inner Voice is talking crap. It does not have your best interests at heart.
As for your own case, if it helps, I’ve added my own comments to the reports about your encounter, declaring that in my professional opinion, given the circumstances at the time, given your physical abilities and limitations, and the lack of weaponry, reinforcements, or access to any other means of containing or subduing the enemy, you did the only thing possible to prevent further loss of life. And Captain Hrelle and Commander T’Varik have formally agreed with my comments.”
As for your own case, if it helps, I’ve added my own comments to the reports about your encounter, declaring that in my professional opinion, given the circumstances at the time, given your physical abilities and limitations, and the lack of weaponry, reinforcements, or access to any other means of containing or subduing the enemy, you did the only thing possible to prevent further loss of life. And Captain Hrelle and Commander T’Varik have formally agreed with my comments.”
After a moment, Stalac responded with, “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
In C’Rash’s helmet, T’Varik’s voice cut in. “Lt Shall, Mr Ostrow and his team have completed their work, and are proceeding back to the ventral hatch.”
“Acknowledged. Feed us the computer’s visual assessment of our targets. Mr Stalac, start moving towards the clamps, as if you’re inspecting something. Act Gearheady.”
On the surface of her helmet, data and symbols appeared. C’Rash looked up at the upper half of the station, guiding where she looked to match the indicated points. “All of you can see the weapons pods on the higher struts; on my signal, you hit that first, I want it taken out immediately. Big Blue, Little Blue, your next target together is the Port Dampening Array. Tweedledum, Tweedledee, you two take out the Starboard Dampening Array. Evil Queen, you’ll manage their Cloaking Array, and then assist the others as and when required.
And bear in mind that we’ll most likely be making some unexpected manoeuvres. Be ready to increase your boots’ gravity fields. Rockstar… you’ll be fine.”
She watched as her team began kneeling and opening their kits, C’Rash doing the same, glad to get this mission underway finally.
*
“Captain,” Kohanim announced from his station. “Message from the Mother’s Fury.”
Weynik had been studying the tactical sensor logs, seeing the changes in the enemy’s patrols, noting how they had obviously were trying to herd the Surefoot in a certain direction, and how his old buddy had obviously seen it too. Now he looked up. “Onscreen.”
Ma’Sala’s face appeared. “Captain, we’re changing course for the Skrysa system, Maximum Warp.”
He straightened up. “You have something?”
She nodded. “I have a viridium tracker on the Surefoot, we’ve tracked her into that system… and now the signal’s disappeared.”
Weynik’s eyestalks focused on the Caitian. A viridium tracker? Should he even bother lecturing her on the many violations something like that has triggered? A second later, he just replied, “Let’s go! Ajax out!”
Seconds later, both vessels were dilating space to the point where their engines were whining in protest. “Helm, ETA!”
“ETA ten minutes to Skrysa system, Sir!”
“There’s a Jem’Hadar task force also heading towards the system!” Kohanim called out over the ambient noises.
Weynik ground his teeth; he could have gone the whole week without hearing that. But he bolstered himself and replied, “Then let’s get ready to give them a bad day: Red Alert!”
*
Hrelle stopped when he heard the sounds of frightened children.
He had been crawling through a horizontal tube, when the scent reached his nose, and he stopped and listened, before crawling back, unlocking a floor hatch and quietly sliding it open, thankful that the power was still out down there, though his night vision and other senses compensated.
He took in what he sensed within: a room of rows of medical scanners and biobeds, eighteen or twenty children – all human, all girls, all aged from six to twelve, and all scared – and two human male adults by the door, alternating their attentions between trying to calm the children, trying to calm each other, and trying to access the station’s comm system, all to varying levels of failure:
“Get the damn door open, Mr White!”
“I can only do so much, Pinkman!”
“I want the lights back on!”
“What’s going on?”
“I want to go to my room!”
“Tabitha, just stay where you are, the power will be back on before you know it-”
“Yo, Mr White, is it the Dominion?”
“How the Hell would I know? I’m literally in the dark, just like you! Where’s Security? They’re supposed to be here by now!”
“I have to go to the bathroom!”
“You will, soon, Charlotte, I promise-”
“It’s Starfleet, isn’t it, Mr White?”
“Shut up, Pinkman! You’re supposed to be an adult, now act like it!”
As quickly and as silently as he could, Hrelle emerged through the maintenance hatch into the room.
“Starfleet? Starfleet’s here? President Agar said they were all killed!”
“They were, Avesta! There is no Starfleet anymore! President Agar has saved all of us! Now just stay quiet!”
“No! You lie! You’re lying to us!”
“Do you want to get hit again, Avesta? Do you?”
Hrelle bared his claws.
He continued his approach, his eyes adjusting further, seeing the children around him and moving around them unnoticed, staying focused on the two adults near the door, one of them holding a PADD and using its minimal light to illuminate his attempts to manually open the door. One of the taller, older-sounding girls, was standing before them, declaring, “You’d better let us go! Starfleet’s here! They’re gonna take care of all of you!”
He continued his approach, his eyes adjusting further, seeing the children around him and moving around them unnoticed, staying focused on the two adults near the door, one of them holding a PADD and using its minimal light to illuminate his attempts to manually open the door. One of the taller, older-sounding girls, was standing before them, declaring, “You’d better let us go! Starfleet’s here! They’re gonna take care of all of you!”
One of the adults’ fear scent heightened. “Mr White-”
The other adult, sounding older than the first, blindly reached out in the direction of the girl confronting them. He found her, grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, shaking her. “Avesta, for the last time, THERE IS NO STARFLEET ANYMORE!”
Hrelle drew out the torch he had taken from one of the guards and shone it full in the adult’s face. “Wanna bet?”
The human, a bald, bearded, pale-skinned man, blinked and covered his eyes. “Who the fu-”
“Language.” Hrelle smacked the man across the jaw with the torch, sending him flying into an unoccupied computer station, before handing the girl the torch. “Hold this for me, would you, please?”
Then he rushed up to the other adult and slammed him into the nearest wall, before bringing his claws up to the human’s throat, his teeth bared. “What’s going on here? Who are you? What are you doing with these cubs?”
The fear practically dripped from him, and he was shuddering so much he looked on the verge of collapse. “I- I didn’t- I’m not r-responsible- I’m not in charge-”
“Did I ask any of that?” Hrelle demanded, letting his claws pierce the soft flesh they encountered. “DID I?”
“His name’s Mr Pinkman,” the girl told him, shining the torchlight onto the man’s pale, sweaty face. When Hrelle looked to her, she continued. “He and Mr White are supposed to be getting us ready to go into stasis tubes until the Galaxy’s safe again.”
Hrelle allowed himself to be impressed by the girl’s composure – so much like another little girl he knew – and deliberately softened his expression, knowing she and the other youngsters were looking at him now, and he needed their cooperation, not their fear. “Hello there! I’m Captain Hrelle, of the Starfleet vessel Surefoot. What’s your name? Where did you come from?”
The girl straightened up like she was being addressed by a teacher, accentuating her reminding him of Sasha. “Aveste Pevan, Sir. We were being evacuated from the New Masshad Colony because of the Dominion. We were supposed to go to Starbase 225 to be with our families. But we were brought here, we met President Agar. He said the Federation had fallen, but he was gonna save us.”
Hrelle looked back at Pinkman. “And why are they here? Agar should have everyone he needs already. Why would he take children as well? 0He’s not the altruistic type.”
The human was shuddering, his eyes wide. “I- I don’t know, I swear-”
“You’re a liar!” Aveste accused him angrily. “You and Mr White told us President Agar wants us all to have babies when we wake up!”
Hrelle tightened his grip around Pinkman’s throat until the latter could barely breathe, glancing down and seeing a discarded PADD. He tried bending down to pick it up – only for Aveste to draw up and help him. “Thank you.” He brought the screen to life, saw medical files on the children… including fertility scans.
Hrelle bared his teeth further, idly wondering how difficult it would be to insert the PADD into the technician, even as he continued to speak with the girl. “Well, that doesn’t sound like any fun at all, Aveste. How long have you been here?”
She breathed in, swallowing. “Two weeks, I think, Sir; they said- they said the Federation had fallen...” Her hazel eyes widened up at him, and the frightened little cub behind the brave young woman who stood before him appeared now. “It hasn’t... has it?”
He looked at her, his heart breaking a little at what she, and the others, had undergone, and smiled warmly. “No. It most certainly has not. And I promise I’m going to get all of you back to your families.” He looked back at Pinkman, teeth bared once more. “And you’re going to help me do that very thing, aren’t you?” Then he leaned in close to the technician’s left ear as he added in an almost-intimate whisper, “Because I bet you’ve thought of better ways to die than having your own balls ripped off and shoved down your throat. Haven’t you?”
From the sound of urine running down the human’s trouser leg, he had.
*
“Lieutenant,” Sasha’s voice announced within C’Rash’s helmet, “The Engineering Team have returned.”
“About fricking time,” the Caitian acknowledged, having fully expected the station to begin raining down weapons fire on them by now. She dropped to one knee. “All Team Members: Now!” As she saw Stalac slither along the hull towards the clamps, she opened her kit and drew together the component pieces of her phaser, moving as quickly as she could, not knowing how much time they would have before the station personnel grew suspicious-
From the corner of her eye, she saw the weapons array above flare with life.
“FIRE WHEN READY! WEAPONS POD FIRST!” She finished assembling her rifle, aimed and began firing upwards, taking a second to adjust her aim as she continued. Seconds later, her orange beam was joined by others. The pod flared up and exploded silently.
“Secondary targets now!” C’Rash ordered. She glanced over at Stalac, who had almost finished burning through the first clamp, and was now moving to the next one, leaving a smoking trail of acid on the hull that thankfully did not appear to be eating through.
The rest of the team were striking their designated targets… including Sakuth, though she seemed to be having less effect. “Captain, what’s wrong?”
The Vulcan continued to fire. “The area around the cloaking projector is reinforced, and the warping nature of the cloak itself is diminishing the strength of my phaser beam.”
C’Rash began moving to join her… just as she saw something slide open on the side of the station, where they would most likely have their- “Shuttledeck! They’re launching shuttles!”
From the widening rectangular maw of the station’s Shuttledeck doors, a half-dozen delta-shaped vehicles emerged.
“I believe they are starfighters, not shuttles,” Sakuth corrected her.
The fighters banked in a wide arc upwards, before aiming for the dorsal side of the Surefoot.
Mother’s Cubs… “ALL UNITS, OPEN FIRE!”
*
On the Bridge, T’Varik examined the readings. “Red Alert! Lt Hrelle, status?”
Sasha glanced at her station as the crimson lights overhead eclipsed the broad white, and the klaxons sounded. “The Security Team’s attack has only been partially effective, the station still has partial dampeners up, but Mr Stalac’s almost burned away the second clamp.”
“Mr Arrington, prepare to break us free of the station’s airlock, but take care, we still have people outside. Ensign Kaldron, arm phasers only, no torpedoes, they’re too small and fast-”
“Commander!” Sash called out. “The station’s cloak is failing!”
T’Varik looked up, seeing the view from beyond.
And almost cursed.
*
The nightmare swirls of a Universe from behind a cloak abruptly dropped away, in favour of a battle in space, as thirty-six scarab-shaped Jem’Hadar attack ships engaged with the Ajax and the Mother’s Fury, their phaser pulse beams and disruptor wave cannons lighting up the sky.
With the station, the station’s own starfighters, and the Surefoot, all caught in the middle.
*
“Helm, Evasive Manoeuvres!” T’Varik ordered. “Sasha, lock onto the Security Team and beam them onboard!”
“Commander!” Urad called out. “Shields have just snapped on-”
The ship rocked under Jem’Hadar disruptor fire, dropping away.
*
“HOLD ON!” C’Rash screamed in her helmet as the ship banked sharply away from the station, tearing the airlock tunnel from it like a piece of skin.
Around her, her team obeyed.
Ironically, she didn’t take her own advice, and felt the momentum overcome her gravity boots, and she was launched into space-
*
“Captain Hrelle?” Agar’s voice spoke overhead. “I know you’re listening. We’ve tracked you to Medical Bay 4. My compliments on evading capture.”
Hrelle looked up. “Evading being killed, you mean.”
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. It’s over, Captain. I know you’re in there with my children.”
Hrelle bared his teeth. “They’re not ‘yours’, you filthy maggot! You abducted them!”
“I saved them. They will now serve a far greater role in my New Age than they could ever have dreamed of in their old, paltry lives.”
“And if they don’t choose to do that?”
There was a pause, and then Agar continued. “Captain, further debate is pointless. We have sealed up the maintenance tubes leading into that room. The only way out is through the door. Surrender, or we will destroy your ship.”
Hrelle grunted. “You have that planned anyway. Kiss my furry ass.” At the reaction of some of the children, he added to them, sotte voce, “Swearing’s not big or clever.”
Suddenly he looked up, hearing the hiss of air being pumped in- no, being drawn out.
“Captain, surrender now, or you’ll die of suffocation in there.”
His heart raced. “The children! They’re in here, too, Agar! They’ll be killed as well!”
Agar’s response was as succinct as it was chilling. “Survival of the Fittest.”
He looked around, seeing the rising panic in the children. He had no choice. “Okay, Agar! You win! I’m coming out! Stop it! NOW!”
Seconds later, the hissing stopped.
“We’re diverting power locally to the door,” Agar informed him. “Step out slowly, unarmed, hands raised. You’ll be taken into custody, unharmed. You have my word.”
Hrelle grunted – the man’s word, and some spit, was worth the spit – but replied, “Acknowledged.” He looked to the children, to Aveste. “Stay close together, take hands, form a chain, watch out for each other, but stay in here until I tell you different.”
Aveste, looking fearful, nodded regardless, and motioned to the other girls to link hands.
Closer to Hrelle, Pinkman, who had been silent since he wet himself, now offered a sneer. “Not so tough now, are you?”
Beside Hrelle, the door powered up, a beep indicating it was operational again. He gripped his remaining disruptor as he looked back at the human. “I have my moments.”
His eyes still on Pinkman, Hrelle reached out, activated the door.
It slid open.
Hrelle shoved Pinkman out, the human immediately getting caught in a crossfire of disruptor beams.
Behind Hrelle, the girls screamed, but he couldn’t help them now, reaching out just enough with his own disruptor to fire overhead at the ceiling lights, and then dropping to fire again and again at the legs of the guards waiting outside, before launching himself outward...
*
C’Rash felt herself flung out, ready to tumble into the Void, probably to end up in an exhaust vent or shot to fu-
A gloved hand clamped around her wrist: Sakuth, her other glove’s gravity units reinforcing her boots’ security to the hull. “Hold on, Lieutenant!”
C’Rash felt like her arm was about to be wrenched from its socket, but she gritted her teeth and forced her way back to the hull beside the Vulcan. “Th- Thanks-” She looked around, confirmed her team were clinging to the skin of the ship like leeches, unable to make their way back to the hatch while the ship engaged in the most stomach-churning manoeuvres, and- Seven Hells, was that the Mother’s Fury out there? The Matriarch’s ship?
*
“Attack Pattern Five!” Weynik barked, gripping the arms of his chair as they took out another Jem’Hadar ship, and then the last of the starfighters attacking the Surefoot. He had no damn idea what that space station was, or why it had been cloaked, but he figured he’d get a good story out of Captain Meatball when all of this was over and they were safe.
“Three final Scarabs closing in on the Surefoot!” Kohanim called out.
Weynik was prepared to launch an intercept run… when the Caitian flagship beat him to it, opening up a wicked volley of missiles that finished the last of the attackers. Remind me not to rub that cat’s fur up the wrong way…
*
Chief Maryk cursed from behind the controls of Transporter Room 1, as the pads filled with an avalanche of spacesuited Security personnel, and one apologetic Horta, slithering off of Neraxis. “Forgive me, Lieutenant! I didn’t mean to get so familiar with you!”
Neraxis helped herself up, removing her helmet and wiping her beaded blue brow before helping the others. “Don’t- Don’t tell my husband, he’s the jealous type...”
C’Rash steadied herself, removing her own helmet and helping Sakuth up, her feelings clear in her eyes. “Thanks for what you did out there.”
Sakuth took off her own helmet, frowning. “Gratitude is unnecessary, Lieutenant. Whatever else you might think of me, I remain a loyal, disciplined Starfleet officer.”
C’Rash grunted.
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow to the reaction. “That your partner will inevitably be forced to acknowledge her gratitude to me for my actions had no bearing whatsoever on what I did.”
C’Rash grunted again.
*
Hrelle cursed as a disruptor beam caught him in the side, but he charged forward anyway, roaring, slamming into three of them, sending all and himself to the floor, as he clawed and tore, making blood spurt and men cry out in pain-
His combadge chirped, and Sasha’s voice. “Dad, stand by for Emergency Beam Out-”
“NO!” He struggled to reach up to his combadge to slap it in response, choking as he demanded, “Hostages here! Beam out everyone in the area! EVERYONE! EVERY-”
Quantum mist enveloped him-
-Dropping him, and the four guards he was grappling with, onto the cold, hard deck of the Surefoot’s Shuttlebay, the largest open area to transport as many people as possible at once. His senses were overwhelmed with the hundreds of people already here, the survivors he had been caring for-
Below him, someone drove a blade into his gut.
He ignored it, looking behind him, seeing the abducted children behind him, huddled together, watching.. and Captain Price stood by, confused, aghast at the scene. Hrelle pointed to the children. “PRICE! GET THEM AWAY! DON’T LET THEM SEE THIS!”
Price, to his credit, moved quickly, along with several of his people, swiftly ushering Aveste and the others out of sight.
Good.
Hrelle turned back to the nearest guard, roaring as he swiftly and efficiently crushed his windpipe with a single blow. The second one went with a sharp sound of his neck breaking that made the onlookers gasp. The third was luckier, passing out with a broken kneecap but still alive, with the fourth one screaming as Hrelle broke his arm and left him on the ground.
Hrelle staggered to his feet, as several of his Security people worked their way through the crowds. He clutched his side; the blade was still there, so he kept it in place as he ordered, “Get them to the Brig, or the Morgue. Don’t care which at this stage.” He ignored the terrified looks he received from the people around him as he hobbled to the exit, his bloody paw touching his combadge. “Good work, Sasha, what’s our status?”
T’Varik responded this time. “Captain, we’ve repaired the damage, Lt Shall and her team are back inside, and the Ajax and the Mother’s Fury have dealt with the Jem’Hadar attack force, but there is another enemy battalion, along with a Battlecruiser, on its way, ETA 23 minutes.”
“Acknowledged. I found children over there, refugees from the New Masshad Colony. Get a Sickbay and Counseling team down here, on the double! I’m on my way up.”
Moments later, he entered the Bridge, ignoring the reactions of Sasha and the others to stare at the image of the space station on the viewscreen. “Hail Agar One.”
T’Varik had risen from the Captain’s chair, staring at his bloodied state, before nodding to Sasha.
Seconds later, the image was replaced by the man himself, looking furious. “How dare you! You have some nerve contacting us after the chaos-”
His protests dropped like lead weights as Hrelle roared at him. When he had control of the conversation, he continued, “You’re guilty of abduction of Federation citizens, slave trafficking, and attempted murder. I’m giving you one chance to surrender. Only one.”
Agar sneered. “You pathetic animal! I’ve told you already, this is an Independent Sovereign State! You have no authority over us! Weren’t you listening?”
He grunted. “Yes, I was. I just wanted your answer for the record, in case I’m asked why I left you at the tender mercies of the Jem’Hadar reinforcements on their way here now.”
Agar’s sneer dropped. “What?”
“You can confirm it once you get your remote sensors back online... but by then, it will be too late. Like you, they appreciate the notion of Survival of the Fittest. I’m sure you’ll have a fine negotiation with them, especially when they arrive and see the wreckage of all of their ships here, and you the obvious cause of it.
So much for your New Age… but then of course, you were only President-For-Life. End Transmission.”
So much for your New Age… but then of course, you were only President-For-Life. End Transmission.”
Agar’s horrified face vanished, as Hrelle turned to T’Varik. “Hail the Mother’s Fury, ask them if they can take us and the Ajax in their Prowl field before the incoming Jem’Hadar detect us… and then… set a course for home.” He looked down, seeing drops of blood dripping onto the floor from the wound around the knife still embedded in him. “Meanwhile, I’ll get to Sickbay before my wife sees me and kills me ahead of my wounds.”
“That would be most wise, Sir.”
*
“Captain’s Log, Stardate 52485.19, Captain Esek Hrelle, Recording: We are proceeding back to the Thirteenth Fleet, ETA 1 day. My eternal thanks to Captain Weynik of the Ajax, and Fleet Captain Ma’Sala Shall of the Mother’s Fury, for their indispensable aid in making this possible. I am also placing notes of commendation in the records of my First Officer, Second Officer and Chief of Security. In fact, there are too many people who have worked together to help us all survive.
And that’s where Agar and his ilk go wrong. They were correct, but only in the notion that our civilisation was not invulnerable, that it could collapse. But for them, survival meant ruthlessness, cruelty, an abandonment of principle. For them, survival was worthwhile at any price.
Speaking for myself, for civilisation to survive, it must remain civilised.
In addition to the survivors of the Battle of Khavak, we now have twenty additional passengers, the civilian children from the former colony on New Masshad. My wife and the other Counselors have been speaking with them, have gathered their details, and will be forwarded to Admiral Tattok, to inform their next of kin of their status as soon as possible. Meanwhile, my nanny is earning his pay and then some with these extra cubs, keeping them engaged.
My own wounds have been repaired, and I am thankful not only to be back on my feet, but finally on our way home. After this, I could do with a rest-”
His doorchime interrupted him, and he closed the log to rise and approach. “Enter.”
Captain Price appeared, the man looking pensive, cordial. “Captain, I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Hrelle shook his head. “I’d say that I wasn’t doing anything, Nathan, but as a fellow Captain, you’d know better.” He smiled. “But there’s always time for you. What’s up?”
Price frowned. “Things will be hectic in the coming days and weeks, so I won’t have a chance later, but I… I wanted to apologise for my behaviour, since Khavak. I had the opportunity to speak with those children you rescued on that space station. They told me about what you did to save them, the risks you took…. the same risks you’ve taken for all of us, since the battle.
I’ve… I’ve not behaved as befits an officer and a gentleman towards you, or how you’ve run your ship and crew. I could excuse it as the shock over losing my own ship, so many of my people… but, as a fellow Captain, you’d know better.”
Hrelle sobered. “I am sorry for your loss, Nathan. I’ve been there myself. It’s not a club whose membership I’d wish on anyone. Thank you for coming here.” He extended his paw.
Price accepted it.
*
Deck 2 Fore – Officers’ Mess:
Zir had tried to finish her soup; even with the restoration of the replicators, and some promised transfer of base matter from the Ajax in the next day, it was still prudent and sensible to keep her strength up.
But her hunger was eclipsed by her fascination, at watching her squadmate Stalac consume yet another ration of rocks and metals, in a fizzle of acid secretion. “Mmm… topaline and copper. Good friend Urad, could I impose-”
The others at the table groaned; Urad, his muzzle full of his own meal, made a noise, prompting Peter, sitting beside him, to pat his friend on his wide shoulder and rise. “My turn, Big Guy.”
Astrid smiled. “Think those huge manly muscles of yours can cart over some, oh, lead or neutronium for our friend?”
Stalac rumbled at Zir’s feet. “No, Friend Astrid, neutronium is far too stodgy for my tastes… and far too heavy for even Urad to pick up.”
Urad swallowed what was in his muzzle and looked up indignantly. “You challenge me, Comrades? I can move worlds with the proper leverage!”
“Forget worlds,” Tori chuckled. “Save your strength for Rocky’s turds! They’re gonna be mahoosive to shift!”
The Horta rotated to face the girl. “Forgive me for correcting you and risking a vitriolic volley, Friend Tori, but my digestive system is exceedingly efficient. I do not produce excretions.”
“Not normally,” Peter pointed out, returning from the replicators with a tray of quartz marbles, watching them roll about as he set it down beside Stalac. “But you’ve been eating far more than normal. You might end up… needing a toilet break.”
Zir’s eyes saucered. “But there is no toilet equipped for him onboard! What the Hell is he gonna do?”
“We’ll ask the Captain to pull over to the side of the road and send him out into the bushes!” Tori guffawed.
*
Hrelle tensed as he heard the feral, guttural noises from one cell… and smelled the fear from his people.
He took in the scene in the Brig instantly: the Jem’Hadar, together, getting louder, wilder, their pain almost palpable, while Neraxis and the others stood on this side of the force field, phaser rifles in hand, as if the agony the enemy were undergoing could be used to break them free.
In the adjacent cell, the Cardassian POWs watched, their leader, one identified in the records he read as Glinn Drurocc, regarding the new arrival, and speaking above the din. “I presume you are the redoubtable Captain Hrelle I’ve heard so much about? Have you finally come to do your job?”
Hrelle shot him the barest of glances, before striding up to Neraxis, never taking his eyes off of the Jem’Hadar. “Lieutenant, take your people into the corridor outside and wait there.”
The young Bolian frowned. “Sir?”
“No one gets in here. No one. Is that understood?”
She glanced at the rest of her Security team, before nodding. “Aye, Sir.” They filed out.
Hrelle continued to stare at them, seeing the intense pain in their faces, their strides, hearing it in the guttural sounds they made.
“Are you just going to stand there-” Drurocc continued.
He lost the thread of his complaint as Hrelle roared loudly at the Jem’Hadar.
They stopped behind the force field momentarily, their attention rapt on him.
“Do you want to die fighting?” he bellowed at them. “Like warriors? With weapons in your hand?”
That caught their focus further.
“We can’t help you survive,” he continued. “We can’t even sedate you, or put you in stasis. You’ll tear each other apart in there in the next hour, before the last one dies in agony. But there’s a Klingon Bird of Prey decloaked off our starboard side right now. They missed out on joining the earlier battle. But they still thirst for combat, as you do. If you want, we can beam you over there, with your bladed weapons, and let you die as warriors, with honour.” He paused, ending with, “If that’s what you want, of course.”
One of the Jem’Hadar leaned in until the force field sizzled with protest, his reptilian face contorted with pain but still able to reply hoarsely, “Y-Yes- W-We want that. P-Please...”
Hrelle nodded curtly, moving to the Security station and keying in some commands. “Captain to Bridge: I’ve disabled the Security features. Beam the confiscated Jem’Hadar weapons into their cell.”
“Aye, Sir.”
Seconds later, columns of sparkling transporter energy produced a number of sharp-edged, sharp-pointed arms around the Jem’Hadar, the soldiers immediately grabbing onto them like lifelines, glancing to each other with exultation… and back at Hrelle in sheer disbelief.
Hrelle worked the controls again. “Bridge, I’m taking transporter control from here now.”
“Acknowledged, Sir.”
He keyed in a final sequence, before looking up at the armed prisoners. “Victory is Life.”
As one, they raised their weapons to the ceiling, their agony momentarily suppressed. “VICTORY IS LIFE!”
He committed the final sequence.
The interior of the cell was suffused with transporter energy.
And then they were gone.
There was silence, before Drurocc commented, “I hope your Klingon friends are prepared for them, Captain. Even in their current state, they will be formidable.”
Hrelle continued to stare at the empty cell, his voice blank. “There are no Klingons. I overrode the safety protocols and set the transporter on a wide beam, dispersing their quantum patterns into space without reforming them.”
The Cardassian Glinn made a sound of regard. “You lied to them... to give your hated enemy, who had killed untold numbers of your people, a final moment of clarity and purpose, however false, before mercy killing them...”
The Caitian Captain looked down at the controls on the Brig station, his voice a low growl like an ancient engine idling in the distance. “Yes. They killed. And we killed back. But I had no desire to make them suffer. Great Mother help those whom I want to make suffer.” He looked up at them. “We’ll be rendezvousing with another Starfleet vessel in an hour’s time; you’ll be transferred into their custody, and then transported to the POW camps on New Halana, where you’ll face a War Crimes Court.”
“‘War Crimes’?” Drurocc sneered. “We were soldiers, engaged in lawful combat-”
Hrelle faced him, baring his teeth. “You attempted to rape a member of my crew. The forensic evidence and witness statements have all been filed. Save your arguments for your trial.” He turned to the doors.
The Cardassian watched him move out, smiling now. “Give our best to Ensign Emoto. Tell her she’s welcome to come visit us anytime, and we’ll finally break the little virgin in like we promised her.”
Hrelle stopped before the doors parted.
He stared at the stark finish before him.
Then he returned to the Brig station, keying in more commands.
“Are you calling her down now, Captain?” Drurocc chuckled, glancing at his equally-amused men. “A little Going Away Present? Maybe you can send us that curvy Orion slut as well for dessert?”
Hrelle ignored him. Then a female voice sounded. “Captain, why are you overriding the transporter safety protocols again?”
He didn’t respond.
“Captain?” Drurocc asked, sounding wary now. “What are you doing?”
“Captain,” the female voice continued, “You have locked onto the Cardassian prisoners for transport. But there is no destination for them but open space. If you continue-”
Hrelle reached out and cut off the transmission.
Drurocc and the other Cardassians straightened up, growing anxious. “Captain, is this some sort of sick joke?”
Then the computer’s voice announced, “Sixty seconds to Transport.”
Hrelle stepped back and approached the cell. “You won’t be turned into energy like the Jem’Hadar. You’ll reform whole, in space. The first thing you’ll notice, apart from the lack of gravity, is of course the lack of air. You won’t lose consciousness right away. It might take up to a minute, as your bodies use up the remaining oxygen reserves from your bloodstream.”
“Fifty seconds to Transport.”
Drurocc shook his head in rising fearful denial. “What are you doing?”
“If you don't hold your breath,” Hrelle continued, deadpan. “It will be relatively painless. If you do, though, the loss of external pressure will cause the gas inside your lungs to expand, which will rupture your lungs and release air – very painfully – into your circulatory system.”
“Forty seconds to Transport.”
“Of course, the gas in your digestive tracts will go first, you can’t do anything about that, and it’ll feel like a phaser grenade’s detonated in your guts.”
Panic bubbled in Drurocc. “You can’t do this to us!”
“Your skin and subdermal tissue will swell,” the Caitian informed them calmly. “As the water in your body starts to vaporise in the absence of atmospheric pressure. The exposed moisture on your tongues and eyeballs will boil. When you inevitably piss yourselves, that’ll boil too, over your genitals.”
“Thirty seconds to Transport… Twenty-Nine… Twenty-Eight...”
“You’ll flail,” Hrelle told them, his teeth bared. “You’ll panic. You’ll beg to gods you never knew existed for help. You’ll be completely helpless.
And you’ll know what Tori Emoto felt in your filthy hands.”
The other Cardassians were shouting, begging, Drurocc slamming his fists against the force field, his eyes wide with terror. “This is murder! You can’t do this! STOP IT!”
“Twenty… Nineteen… Eighteen...”
“I can do anything,” Hrelle informed him. “Alter the records. Give any statement about what happened in here. You think anyone is going to care about you?”
“Captain, I beg of you! Don’t do this!”
“Ten… Nine... Eight...”
“CAPTAIN! PLEASE! WE’RE SORRY!” Drurocc pleaded.
“I believe you,” Hrelle told him.
But he made no move to stop the sequence.
“Three... Two...”
“Watch that first step,” he advised. “It’s a doozy...”
“One… Initiating Transport.”
Drurocc and the Cardassians screamed as they vanished into quantum oblivion.
Hrelle stared at the empty cell for a moment, before tapping his combadge. “Well, Commander?”
After another moment, T’Varik replied, “The Cardassians have been successfully transported to the Ajax, Sir. And Captain Weynik is asking why they’re screaming. And why they have soiled themselves.”
The Caitian breathed in. “Inform him that they needed a lesson in fear. Thank you for your cooperation in making the lesson possible, T’Varik.”
“I am certain I have no idea what you’re referring to, Sir.”
*
“Commander, may I have a word, please?”
T’Varik looked up from behind the desk in the Captain’s Ready Room. “Mr Arrington?”
Giles stood at the open doorway, but now entered, looking uneasy. “I, ah, was looking for the Captain-”
“The Captain is on medical leave following his wounds. He attempted to circumvent this, until Counselor Hrelle ordered him to take their cubs to the Arboretum to relax, prior to a family reunion with their grandmother when Fleet Captain Shall visits. What do you require?”
He stepped in, his face reddening. “I, ah, I know you’re busy, and, um, you don’t appreciate having your time wasted-”
“And yet despite this, you still seem unable to be direct.” But as she leaned back in the chair, her expression offered a lightness of tone.
Giles swallowed. “Commander, I’ve been speaking with Lieutenant Velkovsky. She says she’ll be taking extended leave to be with Lt Neheru while he recovers from his injuries. You need an experienced Flight Control Officer. I’m offering...” He paused and swallowed again. “I’m formally requesting a transfer to the Surefoot on a permanent basis, as a Helmsman.”
She steepled her fingers together before her. “Starfleet Intelligence is no longer satisfactory for you?”
Giles glanced down at himself before replying. “It’s… not for me. I know the value of the work they do, and have met many operatives who were fine people as well as Starfleet officers. But… it’s not for me. Or, as Sasha liked to put it, ‘Anyone who knows you, Giles, would never associate you with intelligence.’”
“Undoubtedly.” She regarded him. “We don’t need you as a Helmsman, Giles.”
His expression stiffened, but he comported himself professionally. “I understand, Commander. Thank you for listening-”
“I am not finished speaking,” she continued. “We need you as a Chief Helmsman.”
He blinked. “Ma’am?”
She rose. “In addition to your primary duties, you will also be required to continue to instruct the Flight Ops cadets who have recently been field-promoted by Captain Hrelle, along with all the other cadets; they may have technically graduated, but they still need to earn the required number of credits to make their qualifications. And you yourself will need to take and pass the required Instructor courses with immediate effect; I can expedite the Academy accreditation, but there is much work ahead of you.” She paused. “Assuming of course that you are willing to take the position.”
Giles breathed in sharply. “Yes. Yes I do, Ma’am. Do you think Captain Hrelle will agree to it?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You should be aware that you are not the first to broach the subject of your transferring back to the Surefoot permanently: Captain Hrelle, Counselor Hrelle, Lieutenant Hrelle-”
Something like a surprised laugh escaped him. “What, all the Hrelles? Even the cubs?”
She offered a wry expression in response. “Misha has always offered positive support for you, for your skills as a surrogate big brother. However, you will find Sreen to be far more critical… especially in defence of her sister.”
“Sist- you mean Sasha?”
“Yes. I am uncertain how long she will remain onboard in her capacity as Second Officer, but in her time she has performed with distinction, especially given the traumas she, like the rest of us, has undergone in recent times. I would be disapproving of any emotional complications she might now experience as a result of ill-judged actions from former lovers of hers.” She frowned. “I would be very disapproving. Are we clear, Mr Arrington?”
Giles’ face reddened to unprecedented shades. “Crystal, Commander.”
She nodded with satisfaction, rising to her feet and approaching. “I will initiate the appropriate administrative processes and inform the Captain and others in due course.” She held out her hand. “But for now: welcome back, Giles. It will be an honour to serve with you again.”
He smiled, accepting her hand. “The honour will be mine, Commander.”
Then she drew back. “Dismissed.”
She watched him depart, and was on her way back to the desk when the doorchime alerted her. “Come.”
Jonas Ostrow stepped inside, his expression urgent. “Commander! We need to talk!”
The Vulcan tensed at his emotional state. “Lieutenant, what is wrong?”
He stepped closer, handing her a PADD. “It’s about what I found outside.”
“The Shiprot infestation?”
“That’s just it, it wasn’t Shiprot. I’ve dealt with that stuff plenty of times, as you know. The damage to the hull and the subdermal layers appears identical to Shiprot, but the spread patterns seem to deliberately avoid going near the containment tanks or interconnectors.”
T’Varik peered at the report on the PADD. “You are correct. It is not probable that metal-eating microorganisms would behave in such a manner.”
“But Nanites would,” Jonas confirmed. “I took a sample from the hull after we ran the gamma beams. I also had Doc Masterson run a physical check of the Sickbay stores; samples of medical Nanites are missing, and the theft concealed.” He looked at her. “I just can’t figure out the reasons behind it. Who would fake a Shiprot infestation?”
T’Varik frowned. “Someone contriving to make herself appear valuable to this ship and crew…”
*
Deck 3 Fore – Arboretum:
Hrelle lay on his belly in the moist, rich dirt alongside his son, watching the pupa of some insect pulsate, the lifeform within getting ready to emerge, Hrelle enjoying the rapt fascination of his son at the simple, elegant biological process, as much as the process itself, and he spoke with a teasing whisper. “I bet there’s a Tandaran Razorwing in there. Or even a Giant Three-Headed Ghidorah!”
Misha frowned at him. “No, Papa! It’s gonna be a Betazoid Arrowheart Butterfly!”
“Oh? And how do you know that, Cub of Mine?”
Misha reached out, pointing at but not touching the pupa casing. “The stripes! Jhess showed us!”
“Oh. Well, far be it from me to contradict Doctor Amazing.” He reached up and tousled Misha’s head fur. “And how is my son doing? How are you feeling?”
Misha scowled to himself, staying silent.
“What is it?” he prompted gently, letting his reassuring purr travel through his touch to the cub. “What are you feeling right now?”
Misha kept staring at the pupa, his eyes looking wet. “Scared. Don’t want to fight the Jemmies again. Don’t wanna fight anyone anymore. Don’t like it.”
Hrelle nodded, leaning in closer to put his whole arm around his son. “I don’t want to fight either. I never really want to fight, to hurt people, or get hurt. And if you never want to fight anyone anymore, your Mama and I will do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen. All that you should be worrying about is playing, and studying, and eating, and farting-”
Misha chuckled, his mood breaking.
Nearby, Sreen sat in the comfy-looking carrier chair her Grandmama Ma’Sala gave her, watched the scene, babbling, “MEESH! MEESH! GOBBA GOBBA MEESH!”
Father and son looked to her, Hrelle laughing with delight, his tail swishing over his rear. “Sounds like she’s trying to say your name.”
Misha gasped and rose, crouching beside his sister. “You say my name, Baby Sreen?”
Hrelle sat up now, smiling. “She’s tried to say yours, Sasha’s, your Mama’s. When your Grandmama comes onboard later, she might be here when she finally manages her first word. At least, I hope so.”
The door to the Aboretum slid open, and a figure emerged, approaching quickly.
Hrelle looked up, noted who it was, and rose to his feet, dusting off the dirt from his uniform, still feeling numb from his earlier medical treatments. “Captain Sakuth?”
Nearby, Sreen hissed, and Misha frowned. “Bad Lady!”
“Hush, Misha.” Hrelle drew up to her. “Captain, this is a surprise. I was hoping to speak to you, though, to thank you for-”
Her hand shot up, pressing against the side of his neck before he could do anything but spasm into unconsciousness.
“PAPA!” Sreen howled.
“Papa!” Misha echoed, baring his teeth and claws and charging towards Sakuth, roaring and leaping at his father’s attacker.
Sakuth swung out and smacked the cub in mid-air, sending him sprawling to the nearest clump of dirt and compost, where he lay still and bleeding.
Struggling in her chair, Sreen roared at the Vulcan, crying out for help.
Sakuth ignored her, kneeling down beside Hrelle and arranging her fingertips on either side of his head. My mind to your mind… my thoughts to your thoughts… you cannot resist…
Screen kept screaming for help, her tiny lungs taking in as much air as they could before screaming again.
*
Elsewhere, deep inside Hrelle’s mind, Sakuth’s own swept down like a predator from above, diving deeper into a dark, thick forest, pursuing her prey. You cannot escape me, Captain. You cannot resist. Continued action such as this is only causing you neurological damage. Stop, now.
No…
She continued her pursuit, the psychic landscape become more overgrown, entangled and thorny, the deeper she went, the more defences she shattered. Show me the secret of Ma’Sala Shall’s Seven Hells Weapon. I know that you will know it.
Hrelle’s mind scurried ahead, a tiny, pitiful prey. No… please… you don’t want to do this…
She ripped though thorny branches and around charred, thick, ancient trees, her quarry always just ahead of her. Show me the location of the Mother’s Claws’ secret base of operations…
His mind leapt and dove, barely escaping her grasp. No! Don’t! You’ll regret coming here, I promise you!
I regret nothing, Captain. What I do, I do to protect the Federation from all potential threats, including from ostensible fellow members. And when I’m done with you, the Judas Press I implant in your mind will make you forget all of this, forget everything… until you see Ma’Sala Shall again. And then you will kill her, and then yourself-
NO!
His mind plummeted into darkness.
She dove in after him…
…Only to find herself in a deep, wide pit.
And Hrelle’s mind was no longer a tiny, pitiful prey.
He was a Beast, a gargantuan, rising up, towering over her like a monster of myth.
And he looked down with deep, crimson-red eyes and pearly pointed teeth, and laughed. TOLD YOU YOU’D REGRET COMING HERE, BITCH. T’VARIK AND KAMI HELPED MAKE THIS GUARDIAN IN HRELLE’S MIND.
NOW… LET’S PLAY...
And now he grasped her, claws digging into her psychic form, ripping into her, sending unbelievable levels of pain through her mind.
She fought back, losing
EEEEEEEEE
-motional and psychic-
EEEEEEEEE
-control control control control-
EEEEEEEEE
NO! Must stay, must finish the missi-
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
*
Agony shot through Sakuth’s skull like a phaser beam, sending her hurling backwards onto the Arboretum floor. There was a high-pitched sound, cutting mercilessly into her very being, ripping away her discipline, her mental and emotional stability. Some sonic weapon employed by Hrelle-
No. He lay there, unconscious, as did his son. And there was no one else here except-
She winced and gritted her teeth as Sreen screamed again, the frequency affecting the discipline of the Vulcan agent.
Unprecedented levels of terror and rage swept through Sakuth, unchecked.
Even Hrelle’s bastard cubs were a threat.
A threat to Sakuth.
A threat to her mission.
A threat to the Federation.
Take whatever steps are necessary, Trenagen had ordered.
They all had to be eliminated.
Without hesitation, she drew the hidden miniature phaser from her jacket, rolled the power bar to a lethal setting, and fired it at the still-screaming cub in the chair…
TO BE CONTINUED IN… CLOAK AND DAGGER
Evil Queen of Lies is the perfect nickname for Saduth. I think when she tries to murder Esek, Misha, and Sreen, is when Weynik and Ma'Sala walk in.
ReplyDeleteWell, I'm sure Sakuth will enjoy her nickname for the rest of her life... heh heh...
DeleteOh, Esek, what *are* we going to do with you?
ReplyDeleteShoulda known that Agar was a nutjob with a superiority complex and delusions of grandeur. Doesn't surprise me at all that he planned to kill the Surefoot crew and strip the ship - or that he had kidnapped a bunch of female children to be used as breeding stock, the sick fucker. No doubt he would have stolen some of the ladies off the Surefoot, too, and tried the same with them.
"Evil Queen of Lies" made me laugh out loud. SO very appropriate for Sakuth. I am looking forward to that bitch's ultimate demise. I hope it is bloody and painful.
As always, I enjoy every one of your stories, and this was certainly not an exception. You're so much better at writing action scenes than I am, I think. So many good things in this one - oh, and I love your comedic bits as well. Esek literally scaring the piss out of the Cardassians was probably not meant to be funny, but it was! And I did love him for what he did for those Jem'Hadar - to treat them as warriors one last time, letting them think they were getting an honorable death, even if it was a lie. Of course, if he really had been allowing them to go to some Klingons to fight to the death, that would have been awesome too.
Great stuff. Next story needs to be going up already, because I am looking forward to it!
Thanks, Christina - I had initially made Agar to be just a paranoid criminal, one who might have destroyed the Surefoot to protect the news of his own existence, but the megalomania grew from there... a little too easily, all things considered.
DeleteOh Sakuth, Sakuth... I'm sure her mother is fond of her. Assuming Sakuth didn't sell her to the Romulans or frame her for treason to advance her career.
For a short while, I had almost considered Esek killing off the Cardassians for real. Almost. And I had thought of having the Jem'Hadar beamed into the space station as a distraction, but given the presence of innocent civilians onboard, I couldn't work them in that way. But it would have been nice to see just how tough Agar and his men would have been against a squad of pain-driven Jem'Hadar.
Now, let's see about Sakuth...
Sakuth isn't the only one who's time may be coming, Ma'Sala warned Trenagen what would happen if he messed with her family, forcing a mind meld on Esek certainly seems to qualify
ReplyDeleteVery, very true. The man *had* been warned, more than once. But can even Ma'Sala get to him?
DeleteOh it'll be a challenge no doubt, but I get the feeling she'll have access to whatever assistance she needs from certain quarters, including a certain tailless cub that he already tried to recruit once... and now it feels like I'm telling you how to tell your story. I promise I'm not, just randomly theorizing.
DeleteHey, I *love* random theorising! Half of my story directions are inspired by the wonderful, creative people who honour me by reading my scribblings :-D
DeleteThis was a great story, that was much needed. The spots of humor had me actually laughing out loud, especially the banter outside the ship with C'Rash giving out code names. But that came crashing to an immediate end when I read the last sentence. Then the only thing I could think was "Oh shit!". We know she'll be alright, but firing at any the Hrelle cubs is not exactly good for anyone's health, especially Sakuth.
ReplyDeleteIt's great to see the gang getting back together again, and continuing to grow, but don't forget that you have a new Alpha squad also, that i think would be fun to watch interact and learn from the old (especially Zir, what she could learn from both Esek and Sasha). Can't wait for the next chapter.
Thanks, David - I enjoyed the banter, the light relief... and I admit I love being able to wind things up with the Battle of Khavak storyline, which is feeling like it's been running longer than the Korean War and all the seasons of M*A*S*H.
DeleteAs for the Alpha Squad, old and new, you must be a telepath, because I have a special story planned to highlight them working together on a crisis that will be literally world-shattering...
But first, some very old scores are going to have to be settled between two old spymasters...
Surefoot, I LOVED this chapter. I couldn't help but hear John Goodman as Esek, perhaps with David Spade as Weynik, (OK, this one's reaching for the stars, but John Rhys-Davies for Tattok?) and to make it all worth it, Judi Dench as Ma'Sala Shall.
ReplyDelete(Live-action presences or voice talents over animation, it matters not. These voices are iconic.)
*Ahem* Anyway...
I had thought that Sakuth had changed when she saved C'Rash. (The code names were genius, although I picture the Twins arguing over which one's Tweedledee, which one's Tweedledum. *Glares at Evil Queen of Lies.*) The name Agar seems to be a reference to an episode from TOS, but I don't recall specifics. Not to worry. If you ask, I can come up with other interesting names / voices behind your marvelous characters.
And would I be wrong if I said it would be a fitting end to Sakuth to feed her to the Jem'Hadar? Grind her into liquified pulp and call it Ketracel White? (Wishful thinking...)
Can't wait for the next chapter... Oh, wait! IT'S HERE!!!! -Clicks Newer Post-
Thanks for this! I'm glad you loved the story! I love hearing how other people imagine the voices behind my characters, it's really fascinating (and complimentary).
DeleteYou're right - the Twins will fight over whether space is breathable LOL
John Agar was an actor who had been famous in the late 40s appearing in big-budgeted John Wayne movies, married Shirley Temple, divorced her, and then as a result fell out of favour with the public, ending up starring in low-budget cult sci-fi movies like The Brain From Planet Arous, The Mole People, Revenge of the Creature and Invisible Invaders (which had inspired my sci fi movie poster story banner).
I'm looking forward to learning what you think of the next story, and in particular Sakuth's final scene :-)
I just reread this and during the recruitment of Giles I came to imagine how he would fare with Astrid.
ReplyDeletePoor Giles.
A good point, and one you made me address in the latest story, The Burning World. Hope you enjoy it!
Delete