Chapter 3: In the Bleak Midwinter

(This entry in the saga of the Seven of the Seven Hills is shorter than usual, written to commemorate the present Holiday Season, and offering a focus on the ship and support crew left behind while the Hrelles are trapped on the Motherworld. I want to thank my friend and fellow writer Christina Moore for the use of her character, Commander Dominic Murphy. She has an impressive collection of Trek fiction in her own right at her website, Legendary Universe, which I urge you to visit, read and comment)

 

Planet Navida III, Stardate 51855.22:

In the waiting, windless gloom, the corpse of the city rose up from the snowy swaddle into the thick mist that was slowly, inexorably suffusing the sky. Charred, gutted buildings sat like grave markers, vehicles cluttering the streets and bridges haphazardly, cast aside like forgotten toys. Ships sat in the quay on the bay, their wooden and metal hulls protesting their slow but relentless crush by the surrounding, swelling ice, unchecked by the former inhabitants of the devastated metropolis, whose remains littered every conceivable corner, the planet no longer possessing any animal life to pick at the frozen flesh.

There was a park in the hub of the city, with spoke-like boulevards extending outwards in every direction, a park now denuded of plant and animal life, a park that now served as the base of operations for the Starfleet rescue effort that had arrived eight hours before.

Captain T’Varik, clad in cold weather clothing, heavy gloves and hooded jacket, watched her breath ghost before her as she moved from the transporter pattern enhancer ring to the nearest collection of crewmembers, her boots crunching in the thin carpet of frost beneath them. The Vulcan decided with immediate effect that it was perfectly logical to hate the cold. “Lieutenant Kitirik: report.”

Kit turned to face her, the junior officer identically clad but also equipped with supplemental heating units to keep his more sensitive reptoid physiology from shutting down in these low temperatures. His round bronze eyes watered excessively from the cold, making him appear mournful... which, T’Varik considered, would not be inapposite for where they were. “Respected Captain, I believe I can confirm that the Navidans were not the victims of the Dominion.”

She glanced around once more at the gnarled, carbonised trees, the bodies they had found here moved out of sight. “You are certain? But there was no evidence of a natural disaster that would have caused such immediate and widespread devastation as what we see here.”

“No, Respected Captain, this was no natural disaster either. I believe the catastrophe here was the result of a polaric ion explosion.”

“I am unfamiliar with that term.”

Kit nodded, setting aside his tricorder onto an adjacent data display table. “Polaric ion particles are an exotic, highly volatile form of energy, capable of generating power on a large scale, but also prone to instability, causing subspace chain reactions when they reach critical mass. Such reactions do have the potential of killing all life on an entire planet within a matter of seconds.”

He indicated the surrounding area. “There is evidence of polaric ion particles in the immediate area, as well as the subspace instability currently affecting our transporters, scanners and communicators, and which has also severely altered the planet’s weather patterns, can be a result of a subspace chain reaction specifcially caused by a polaric ion explosion.”

T’Varik’s brow furrowed now, recalling a brief historical note in one of the lectures she gave while teaching at the Academy, “The destruction of a Romulan research station on Chaltok IV by a polaric ion detonation led to the Polaric Test Ban Treaty of 2268. This agreement effectively halted and prohibited all polaric ion research in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.”

“That is correct, Respected Captain.”

“Navida III is... was a Federation member, and would be as subject to the Treaty as any other. It would not have knowingly engaged in such research.”

Kit drew back the hood of his jacket, adjusting some of the heating pads around his seaweed-green head. “The initial Romulan experiments also noted a strong potential for polaric ion energy weapons production. In recent months, the Federations News Services have reported many member worlds are seeking to augment their domestic defences in the wake of Dominion advances into our territory.

I suspect the Navidans believed the Dominion threat strong enough to warrant breaking the Treaty. However, I am awaiting corroboration from my esteemed colleague...” A slight seismic shudder made the tricorder on the table dance. “Who I believe is returning.”

Nearby, a patch of frost-covered, frozen earth melted and collapsed into a small geyser of acid residue, from it emerging a metre-wide, irregular lump of orange-brown rock with a Starfleet combadge and tricorder bolted to his side. He rumbled closer to the officers, the voder unit in his combadge producing a male voice. “You were correct, Lieutenant. There is a subterranean complex, 4.4 kilometres north-northeast of this point, possessing the residue of sophisticated technology, and where the polaric ion concentration is at its highest.”

Kit nodded. “Thank you, Ensign Stalac; I hope you did not overindulge in the native minerals during your burrowing.” He turned back to T’Varik. “Captain, do you wish us to continue our investigations? We may find computers elsewhere intact enough to provide supportive evidence for the official records.”

For the 232^nd time since she had been promoted from First Officer and given temporary command of the Surefoot, T’Varik secretly considered how Captain Esek Hrelle would have responded. It was ostensibly an illogical and needless tactic on her part; she was experienced and adept enough to make her own command decisions, otherwise Admiral Tattok would not have given her the responsibility.

But she also acknowledged that, in the 6.48 years that she had served with the Caitian, her regard for his success in the role had grown, and though she would undoubtedly forge her own style, she knew there was much she could still adopt from him.

And would continue to do so, she reminded herself, when he and his family returned, when their Motherworld was liberated from the Ferasans. T’Varik was as rational and objective as any other Vulcan... but equally, she would not entertain any other notion. Esek, his wife Kami and their cubs, were family, closer to her than the one she grew up with, bonded to her not just through T’Varik’s marriage to their relation C’Rash, but also through T’Varik’s status of godmother to their youngest.

T’Varik did not ask for command under these circumstances. So she chose to consider herself ‘keeping the seat warm’ for Captain Hrelle, as their Chief Medical officer put it. And she kept him in her thoughts. 1.89 seconds after Kit had asked his question, she responded. “No. The cause of the disaster here can be verified later, if need be. Our priority must be to rescue anyone might have survived. Have you run the climate forecast?”

“Yes, Respected Captain; the polaric ion pulse has also had a profound effect on the weather patterns, causing inversions and vortices of air from the planet’s upper atmosphere to ground level. We have perhaps 4.8 hours before the local temperatures drop below -120 degrees Centigrade.” He shuddered. “If I am allowed to return to the ship before that happens, I would not be ungrateful.”

She nodded. “You will return now and take over from Lt Bellator. Mr Stalac, join Ensign Nguyen’s search team at the Civic Centre; many of the buildings have collapsed there, and they could use your excavating skills.”

As they acknowledged her orders and departed, T’Varik turned to look at the craggy, snow-capped mountains surrounding this city on three sides, mountains being swallowed up by the growing mist, and indulged in a moment of sorrow, unable to merely focus on the scientific aspects of the reason for the Surefoot coming here. Six days ago, this was a living world of millions of people, like so many others in the Galaxy.

Then a distant, mysterious energy pulse was detected from the planet by the Surefoot, followed by a total communications blackout. T’Varik ordered a course diversion, calculating an 85.4% probability of a systems malfunction on the part of the Navidans’ outer subspace network, possibly something their new Chief Engineer David Sakai could easily repair.

She had been proven profoundly wrong.

The subspace instability caused by the explosion affected sensors, communications and transporters on all but a very short range, but an experimental sensor enhancement algorithm from the crew’s newest Chief Ops Officer Lt Bellator revealed the possibility of potential survivors in the planet’s largest city, so they took the radical step of descending into the lower atmosphere of the planet, hovering only a  few hundred metres above them now, while search and rescue teams were assembled to retrieve survivors.

If there were any. None had been forthcoming so far, and their remaining operational time here was limited.

She reached inside her jacket and tapped her combadge. “Captain to Bridge: Lt Bellator, have you managed to boost the subspace signals to the Triton?”

The young officer’s voice carried well in the still air. “Yes, Ma’am, with a modification of the deflector dish. I have relayed our logs to date and have forwarded your request to the Triton for additional ships to supplement the search for survivors. No response from Admiral Tattok as yet.”

“Acknowledged.” After a pause, she added, “Mr Kitirik has just beamed onboard, and will relieve you, while you obtain sleep for the next 6 hours.”

“Captain, that won’t be necessary. I am a Child of Nova Roma, we are able to work tirelessly for hours, even days. I can stay at my post.”

T’Varik saw Dr Masterson nearby, stomping his boots for warmth, and approached him, while continuing to speak to the junior officer over her combadge. “Lieutenant, you had already completed a long shift when we first arrived, and I allowed you to remain as you were determined to solve the problem with subspace communications. As you have now provided the solution, and earned my gratitude, you can sleep, and return at optimum efficiency and alertness.”

“Captain, I’m fine, I don’t need sleep, I promise you.”

As she stopped next to the doctor, T’Varik responded with, “And I promise you, Misc Bellator, that if you do not comply with my orders with immediate effect, I will return to the ship, drag you to your quarters, throw you into your bunk and tell you bedtime stories until you sleep.”

The comlink seemed to go dead, before Bellator replied, nonplussed, “Ma’am, you- you can’t do that!“

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow to the protest, ignoring Masterson’s smirk. “I know verbatim all 26 stories of The Crooked Tailed Cub series. They were Misha Hrelle’s favourites when I babysat him.”

There was another pause, and then Bellator answered, “Mr Kitirik has arrived, Ma’am. I’m going to bed. Stories are not required from you.”

“Your loss; I am a most accomplished raconteur. And I will be running a computer audit later to ensure you have complied and not continued covertly working from your quarters. T’Varik out.” She turned to the human. “Doctor?”

He rubbed the side of his gloved hand against his dimpled chin as he chuckled, “Remind me not to play poker with you, Captain, you bluff like nobody’s business.”

“Assuming I am bluffing, Doctor. Have you something to report?”

He puffed up his cheeks and breathed out mist, his Western twang tinged with dolour. “No survivors found yet, Ma’am. We’ve been checking the bodies, and they all died the same way: massive synaptic disruption caused by a pulse wave of polaric ion particles.” He breathed out again. “If there’s any hope to grasp with this tragedy, it’s that death was almost instantaneous.” He glanced around. “They wouldn’t even have known what was happening.”

She nodded. “I will accept that, Doctor. We will remain as long as possible to continue to search for survivors, but the environment is growing hostile by the hour. I want your teams prepared to deal with cold-related injuries... as I fear the chances of finding survivors on Navida III are diminishing with the temperature.”

Masterson regarded her. “Pardon me for asking, Ma’am, but if you think we’re not likely to find anyone alive down here, then why-”

She drew the fastening of her jacket up further to cover her throat. “Because it is Christmas Eve Day.”

He started. “I didn’t know you celebrated.”

“I do not. But I am aware that some humans still celebrate the secular aspects of the holiday if not the spiritual, and that the Christmas party you had scheduled for tomorrow in the Officers’ Rec Lounge was cancelled following the news about the Occupation of Cait. It seems that between that, our imminent return to battle at Betazed, and now our diversion to this planetary catastrophe, there is evidently little reason for our crew to feel... festive.

Christmas is traditionally a time to receive gifts. If we cannot have peace in our time, or have the Hrelles back safe with us... then finding survivors here in the midst of this... graveyard... will be an acceptable consolation.”

Gossamer snow began to fall from the sky.

*

Commander Dominic Murphy stood near an irregular opening of a large building that appeared to be a shopping complex for the Navidans, looking out at the growing clouds in the already-clouded sky, hearing rumbles, and recalling scenes from novels he had read, novels written before the days of weather modification nets, when dangerous, destructive storms were allowed to form unchecked on planets, threatening those mortals below, like the Gods of Myth and Legend. It sent a shudder through him.

Yeah, Dom. You’ve taken time off from a galactic war to stand on a freezing planet full of corpses, and you’re getting the shivers over a predictable atmospheric phenomenon.

He turned back inside with the rest of his team, who were moving through the various levels of the complex, fighting the polaric ion interference on their tricorders to seek survivors, checking each of the bodies-

Fire—he was on fire-

Murphy paused, closed his eyes and counted to Ten as he forced down the memories of the Sherwood, ripped to pieces, its crew, his crew, his colleagues, his friends, dead and dying… he employed all the techniques taught to him by the Counselors to deal with his trauma.

And it was working, better and better each time. But it left him with his usual doubts that he was... worthy. Worthy of the continued support and respect of those around him. And worthy of his imminent promotion to Captain, and the subsequent assignment of a ship of his own to command, the Messenger, after he helps out serving as First Officer on the Surefoot.

He ventured further into the complex, relishing the slight increase in ambient temperature inside. He had spent most of his career as what his former Captain called a ‘Squint’, a science officer, biochemistry to be specific, and as terrible as this disaster was, the scientific mysteries behind it couldn’t fail to distract him.

Stay focused on what’s in front of you, Calista would advise him. And who was he to argue with his Blue Angel?

But then his command instincts returned, and he drew up to Ensign Zir Dassene, one of the Surefoot’s former cadets, and now one of their Ops Officers. “Ensign, where’s Lt Shall?”

She turned to him, straightening up formally, strands of cherry-red hair peeking out from the hood of her jacket as a contrast to her olive-green skin. “She descended to the lower levels we discovered, Sir. She believed she… picked up a fresh scent.”

“Scent?” he echoed, quickly understanding. Shall was Caitian, and though he had never worked with any of them before, he had heard of her people’s tracking skills. “Who went with her?”

Dassene’s skin darkened. “No one, Sir. She ordered us to remain above, she said she didn’t need the distractions.”

He frowned. “And you thought that was a good idea? You didn’t question it, or thought to contact the Captain or myself?”

The Orion girl started at his rebuke. And then Murphy rebuked himself. She may have been an Orion, Dom, but that didn’t mean you had to treat her like a member of the Syndicate instead of a competent but young junior officer; after all, what would people assume about you because of your heritage? “Excuse my anger, Ensign, you were merely following orders.” He reached for his combadge. “Commander Murphy to Lt Shall: respond.” Silence. “Lieutenant Shall!”

“It, ah, might be the continuing communications interference, Sir,” Dassene suggested.

Murphy looked to her, his expression telling her what he thought of that. He knew that he hadn’t been invited onboard the Surefoot, that Tattok had assigned him chiefly because he was an outsider, a presence to remind the crew that, as much as they might want to go in rescue of Captain Hrelle and his family, they had orders to do otherwise.

To their credit, nearly all of the crew reacted to him professionally, even with friendliness, considering the circumstances. Lt Shall, on the other hand, was just short of unprofessional to him in her behaviour: barely acknowledging his presence, breaking protocol by taking actions on her own, never responding to his requests for assistance with performance reviews and Security updates.

He initially put that down to being personally affected by the recent events on Cait, with her family caught behind enemy lines, or maybe even dead. And he tried to remind himself that he was only there temporarily.

But this was getting Beyond the Pale. “I’m going down there to collect your boss. Gather the team together, I have an idea about calibrating our tricorders to work in tandem and boost their scanning abilities.”

“Sir? Should someone accompany you?”

“No.” He moved to the vertical access shaft they had discovered earlier, one they could employ in the absence of power for the complex’s elevators. He wanted some private time with the Lieutenant, in a place she couldn’t just walk away from.

*

His boots echoing on the metal rungs, he soon found he needed the torch on his tricorder halfway down the shaft ladder; otherwise the device was useless except at very close range. The air as he descended was at least warmer and thicker, if mustier, and when he arrived at the bottom, he found himself in a relatively spacious horizontal tunnel of circular design. “Lieutenant Shall?”

He aimed his tricorder torch around, noting metal tracks at his feet, running in either direction, though the roof of the tunnel had collapsed here and there, forcing him to step around or climb over. He raised his voice, his echo rebounding as his temper shortened. “Lieutenant Shall, respond!”

A muffled female voice snapped back, “Piss off! I’m busy!”

Then he saw a brief light appear ahead, and he strode forward, his anger growing. What the Hell did she think she was doing? He didn’t care now how temporary his assignment was, or about her personal circumstances, he was going to settle this between them. He tried his tricorder’s scanners now, the cyclic sound echoing around him.

He heard a curse now, closer. “I said piss off!”

Murphy kept walking, lighting ahead of him. The tunnel opened up into what looked like a raised platform, with elevator doors, colourful diagrams on walls resembling schematics, and machines with dispenser panels. “Lieutenant?”

The coal-furred Caitian was crouched up on the platform, and when he aimed his torch on her, she hissed at him. “I don’t need that on! I can see in the damn dark!”

“I can’t,” he reminded her... but aimed it slightly away from her head, watching as she was hunched over some debris, her tail raised and swaying as if from an errant breeze. “This is some sort of... subway station. With elevators that lead up to the shopping complex.”

Shall didn’t answer, picking up what looked like colourful plastic wrappings... and sniffing them in a way that somehow unnerved him.

Murphy clambered up onto the platform, approaching, fighting the instinctive urge to not disturb her again. “Lieutenant Shall, Security Protocol required everyone to work in pairs, not go out alone.”

She made a sound like a grunt, never looking up at him as she continued to examine the wrappings. “You did.”

“Do I look like I’m in the mood for smartass answers from you?”

“I wouldn’t know, Commander, I haven’t bothered to look at you.”

Murphy bristled. “Lieutenant Shall, I am giving you a direct order to stop what you’re doing and follow-”

Still not looking up, she pointed past him. “Look at the bodies.”

He turned, seeing the cadavers of four Navidans, and despite his growing indignation at her attitude and behaviour, approached them. They were like so very many he had already encountered since arriving here: humanoid, rust-coloured, with vertical ridges running up on either side of the faces from the chin to the receding hairlines. They wore various styles of generic vertically-striped clothing, and lay in a row, their eyes closed, their three-fingered hands folded reverently onto their abdomens. 

He scanned them; they died like everyone else on their planet, at the same time, and of the same reason. He turned back to her, bemused. “What am I missing?”

“I didn’t arrange them like that.”

He tensed, glancing back at them once more, his pulse quickening as he understood what she was implying. All the data gathered so far confirmed the Navidans who died here had died almost instantaneously; they certainly wouldn’t have had time lay themselves out like that.

He returned to her, as she held up one of the wrappers. “The food dispensers on the platform have been broken into; the snacks and drinks these held are fresh.” She lifted her head, sniffing. “I’m picking up living traces, but can’t pinpoint them.” She growled. “I wish Uncle Esek was here; he was fricking phenomenal at tracking, compared to me.”

He lifted up his tricorder and adjusted his sensor settings, aiming it out again.

Now C’Rash hissed. “Turn that off, it’s useless down here for biosigns, and I can’t concentrate.”

Murphy said nothing, focusing on making further adjustments.

“Are you deaf?” she snapped.

“No, I’m ignoring you, there’s a difference.”

“Well then-”

“I’m also your superior officer,” he added. “Thought you might like to keep that in mind before you continue being disrespectful to me.” He made one more adjustment before aiming the tricorder around him. “Why would they be hiding?”

She rose to her feet. “Hiding? What makes you think they’re hiding?”

He lowered his tricorder, looking down the subway tunnel. “If a disaster like this happened on Earth, survivors in our subways would be up top, seeking help.”

“Maybe they did try already, found what we found up there, and presumed no one was alive to help. Or maybe they think we did it to them.” She winced as he scanned once more. “I told you that’s not picking up biosigns down here, idiot!”

“And I told you something about disrespect.” He walked towards the far wall of the platform. “I’m not looking for biosigns.” He pointed to a panel in front of him. “This is made of a different alloy to the surrounding material.” He reached out with his gloved forefinger, tracing a vertical line down and up. “It’s a door.” He leaned closer. “I can feel a draft coming from it.”

C’Rash drew up to him, listening and sniffing, her fingers tracing the rest of the door outline. “Look for a latch, a means of-”

Murphy slid down a small waist-high panel on the door, revealing an internal vertical latch, and pulled at it, making the door swung out in his direction with a swooshing sound, as a cooler draft wafted out.

C’Rash drew in front of him. “I’ll take the point-” Then she stiffened, glancing around, her breath quickening.

He stepped back from her, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

Then he understood, as he felt, and then heard, a growing rumble, one that seemed to come from every direction. For a second, he imagined it was whatever vehicles the Navidans used for underground transport, but then knew better, as walls cracked sharply, and with a deafening roar the ceiling began caving in around them...

*

T’Varik walked alongside Masterson back towards the landing site, the Vulcan recalling an earlier time, when Captain Hrelle had arranged to take the children of the Thirteenth Fleet to a snowbound planetoid to let them celebrate Christmas. It was an... emotionally satisfying event, albeit one she could not admit to at the time, but certainly not one that could repeated, here and now, under the circumstances.

For a while there was only the sound of their boots crunching the freshly-fallen snow, before Masterson spoke again. “And how is command resting on your shoulders?”

“Doctor, I am aware that you and Ensign Boone are acting as substitute Counselors in Kami Hrelle’s absence, but I do not require-”

“I’m asking as a friend,” he clarified, good-naturedly. “Not as a Counselor.”

The Vulcan took .86 seconds to process her embarrassment at her faux pas. “Forgive me, Ezekiel. It is... difficult. The circumstances of the attainment of my rank and position, however temporary, are far from ideal. I am... also affected by my bond with C’Rash, and her own anger and distress at the ongoing situation with the Hrelles and with Cait. I must strive harder to maintain a sense of stability for the crew, as Captain Hrelle would do.”

Masterson nodded, but then stopped and faced her. “Captain Hrelle would also recognise when he has to turn to others, for advice and support. None of you starship Captains are all-powerful or all-knowing... though some of you might think otherwise.”

T’Varik regarded the man and his words. “Rest assured, I do not share such grandiose sentiments, Doctor... but I will accept your offer, with gratitude.”

He smiled... but then his smile dropped as a rumble shook the ground. He glanced around. “What the- earthquake!”

The Vulcan silently applied the less Terracentric term ‘seismic shock’, as she grabbed his arm and rushed them both away from the corpse of a nearby tree, the ground beneath rolling and undulating like a viscous liquid that made the tree topple, until the two officers dropped from lack of balance. She shouted out over the rumble, “DROP! DON’T TRY TO RUN!”

The other Starfleet crew outside complied, even as outside the park, some of the taller, more vulnerable buildings began to crumble, some piecemeal, one of them fully, raising a cloud of dust, debris and snow. T’Varik reached for her combadge. “Surefoot! Can you lock onto the crew in the buildings?”

“Negative, Captain! We’re still restricted to matter within the pattern enhancer ring!”

T’Varik acknowledged the response, having expected it anyway, while she calculated the probable duration of seismic shocks, which instruction had taught her was averaged at 10 to 30 seconds-

26.7 seconds after it started, the shock subsided, and then died. She smacked her combadge again. “Mr Kitirik, alert the onboard Medical teams, and connect me to the Surefoot’s external audio amplifiers!”

A second later, Kit responded again. “Connected, Respected Captain.”

She breathed in before speaking, preparing for her voice to be broadcast overhead at a thousand times amplification. “Attention All Hands: if you are uninjured, report to the landing site. If you are injured, or if there are others with you injured, remain where you are, set your tricorder distress signals so we can locate you.” She tapped her combadge again to break the signal and returned to her feet, helping Masterson up as well. “Doctor, gather your people to follow.”

She started towards one structure without waiting for an answer, recognising it as the area Commander Murphy and C’Rash and their team had been searching. The complex had partially collapsed; that didn’t mean her partner, or anyone else, was injured. Indeed, she saw several of their people emerging... but neither her partner nor her First Officer was among them. “Ensign, report!”

Dassene raced up. “Captain, Commander Murphy and Lt Shall down in a lower level when the quake hit! The vertical hatch they had used has collapsed!”

*

Fire—he was on fire. Or at least it sure as hell felt like he was, as he felt nothing but searing agony from the top of his head all the way down to his—

Wait, where were his legs? What had happened to his legs?!

He screamed as long and loud as his voice would carry. And when his air ran out, he took as deep a breath as his aching ribs would let him and screamed again. As his second wail died down, he made himself look to where his legs should be. Though the air around him was quickly being choked off with thick, acrid smoke from a number of fires in the room, although he now noticed that blood had run down his face and was falling into both eyes, he looked down and saw that he was pinned: one of the free-standing consoles had somehow been uprooted from the floor and had knocked him over, landing right across his pelvis.

He was no doctor, but he knew right away he had a spinal injury.

Shit.

“HELP ME!” he screamed. “SOMEBODY HELP ME-

Murphy was literally dragged into consciousness, leaving him gasping for air, striking out- until a set of furred fingers curled around his forearms, holding him with superior strength, and a voice cut into his panic. “Commander! You’re okay!”

He stopped struggling, staring into the blackness, before he started coughing from inhaling debris-suffused air. “L-Let- Let go of me-”

C’Rash did, and seconds later, as he recovered from a coughing fit, she switched on the tricorder torch, setting it down beside him. “Let the dust settle before you start moving around.”

Murphy nodded, sitting up, checking himself for injuries. Son of a bitch, that was such a vivid memory... he could still feel the heat of the fires on the Sherwood, when they had suffered so badly at the Battle of Chin’toka. So many died that day... so many...

Stay focused on what’s in front of you.

He helped himself up to his feet, bringing the tricorder with him. “What happened?”

C’Rash rose as well, stepping over rubble. “Felt like a quake to me. Thought you were a science officer.”

He studied the surroundings. “I don’t mean the seismic event. I mean what did you do? This- This was the room we discovered, isn’t it?” He found the door, tried pushing it outward, but it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s a maintenance corridor,” she informed him, moving in the opposite direction. “I’m picking up cleaning fluids, lubricants, and there’s scattered tools on the floor. Forget the way we came; my ears are still ringing from the tons of rocks that came down out there. This other way is blocked, but we have a better chance of shifting this crap.”

Murphy stepped back from the door, turning and shining the light in her direction. “Thank you for saving me.”

She didn’t turn to face him, instead continued examining the debris ahead of them. “Just making up for being so disrespectful and all, Commander, Sir.”

He made a sound – you’re as remorseful as a Klingon in the midst of a Berserker Fury – until he started at the sight of her drawing her phaser. “Wait!”

She turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “What now?”

“What do you intend to do with that, Lieutenant?”

Her tail twitching with agitation, she raised the phaser in her paw, as if noticing it for the first time. “What, this? I thought, maybe, I don’t know, I might clear away some of this debris, get us out and save our lives. Is that okay with you, Commander, Sir?”

She turned back without waiting for a response.

His came with him reaching out and clasping her forearm, ignoring her tense reaction to the touch. “No, Lieutenant, it’s not.” He aimed the light up and around them. “Some of these are holding up a lot more debris. Disintegrate the wrong beam, the wrong piece of concrete, and... Kerplunk.”

The Caitian’s muzzle wrinkled. “’Kerplunk’? Is that the scientific term, Commander, Sir?”

Murphy grunted, adjusting the settings on his tricorder. “It is if I say it is, Lieutenant. I’ll guide you on what to cut, and where; think you can follow orders with a minimum of attitude?”

C’Rash bristled, sniffing before replying, “Yes, Sir, Commander, Sir.”

*

It was getting colder, T’Varik noted to herself, apropos of nothing as she examined the area where the complex’s vertical shaft, and much of the interior of the complex itself, had collapsed, leaving large gaps above to let the snow drift down in heavier amounts.

Instead, she attempted to project an aura of composure as Ensign Dassene continued her report. “The shaft is completely inaccessible now, Ma’am; there were larger shafts nearby, elevators used by shoppers to reach the various levels of the complex, but they’re also at least partially collapsed in on themselves. Ensign Thykrill has called for rappelling equipment from the ship.”

T’Varik nodded. “Sensors and communications are continuing to be inefficacious?”

“Due to the polaric ion interference, yes, Ma’am... but may I suggest Ensign Stalac scout down? As a Horta not only can he tunnel through almost as fast as phasers could-“

“His senses are naturally evolved for an environment of solid rock. An apt suggestion, Ensign; collect him.” As the Orion departed, T’Varik became aware of Masterson behind her, and, as illogical as it was, she felt his eyes upon him. “Report, Doctor.”

“Minor injuries from falling debris to Mr Nguyen and Nurse Scarlo, but otherwise we’re okay.” He paused, and added, “Shall and Murphy will be okay, too.”

“I do not require baseless reassurances, Doctor.” She tapped her combadge. “T’Varik to Bridge: status report.”

She had expected Kit to respond, not Bellator. “I’m running tests to compensate for the polaric ions, Captain. No luck so far with transporter or sensor signals, and only a slight improvement to communications.” They paused before adding, “Captain, the temperature is continuing to drop in your area. I took the liberty of ordering Chief Sakai to fabricate portable heating units earlier; they are already being beamed down and should be with you presently.”

T’Varik nodded to her. “Excellent work, Lieutenant. Continue to attempt to compensate for the interference, and alert us if you detect any aftershocks. T’Varik out.” She turned as she heard a familiar rumble. “Mr Stalac, your Squad Leader has briefed you on the situation?”

The Horta drew up to her. “Yes, Captain. I will of course descend... but I must recommend doing so carefully.  My previous explorations confirmed there are numerous expected tunnel networks carved out of the network, for public transport, power and waste conduits and the like.”

“That should then make it easier for you to find them, though,” Dassene pointed out. “Shouldn’t it?”

“The opposite, actually, Zir. They offer the danger of sensory illusions, echoes. Also, I could conceivably accidentally bring down debris by tunnelling in the wrong direction or angle. That is something I could survive; carbon-based lifeforms like the Commander and Lieutenant, less so.”

T’Varik balled her gloved hands into fists at her sides. “Use your own judgement of course, Mr Stalac... but do not strive to be overly cautious. Our crewmembers may be injured, and our time on the surface of the planet is limited.” She looked up to see the massive Security crewman Ensign Urad Kaldron carrying large, heavy-looking portable heaters on his shoulders. “Ensign, place those near that open elevator shaft. I want a minimum number of crew present, in case of aftershocks.”

She turned away, taking another moment to suppress her distress at C’Rash’s predicament. She didn’t believe her partner was dead – she would have surely felt it through their bond – but it could still happen.

*

Murphy drew back as a metal beam fell down before him. He waved away the dust it kicked up, his ears ringing from the clamour.

“Watch out, there’s debris falling down,” C’Rash noted dryly.

“Thanks.” He pointed to a spot on the beam. “Cut here.”

“Sure you don’t want to do that yourself, Sir? Get some of that bloodlust out of you?”

“Excuse me, Lieutenant?”

“The Klingon bloodlust? You’re half-Klingon, aren’t you?”

He stiffened, his face reddening. “You read my medical file? You had no business doing that, Lieutenant!”

The Caitian smirked, tapping the tip of her snout. “I didn’t; it took a while for me to work it out, but it came to me. I have to say, Commander Sir, you hide it well. Did you get surgery to get rid of the ridges or-”

Murphy’s whole body went taut, and he drew up into C’Rash’s face. “My damn heritage is none of your business, Lieutenant! I am fed up with you! I have been as lenient and understanding of your plight as I can! I’ve endured the most unprofessional attitude and behaviour from you since I boarded your ship! But it ends, here and now! Is that understood?”

She stood there, glaring at him... but her defiance seemed to bleed from her with each passing second, her tail drooping behind her as she countered with, “I’m... sorry, Commander. I’ve- I’ve not been handling what’s happening with my family, my planet. Every instinct in me demands I go there and fight, not- not do anything else but!”

Her paws balled into fists, and she bared her teeth, though not at him, as she began pacing around the enclosed area, her tail twitching now. “I can’t do this! I CAN’T! How in the Seven Hells can anyone expect me to go on? To act like nothing’s happened?”

Murphy regarded her, seeing her looking, sounding, acting more honest, more vulnerable than he had done in the weeks since boarding the Surefoot. And for the first time, he felt a genuine empathy for her plight. “You can’t. You can’t act like nothing’s happened, because that’s just self-denial. But you have to accept what you can’t change, no matter how terrible, and not let it control the rest of your life.”

She hissed. “You don’t understand!”

“I do. I didn’t just leave my last post... I survived it. The Sherwood was at Chin’toka, and less than one-tenth of our crew made it out alive. Seven hundred and fifty of my shipmates didn’t. And I ended up with severe spinal injuries that took ages to recover from, albeit not as long as it could have been without the help of my Klingon genes – about the only time I’ve ever been thankful for my mixed heritage.”

She stopped and looked at him in shock at his revelation.

Her reaction prompted him to continue, even as he realised that his Counselors were right, and that it was helping him as much as it was (hopefully) her. “I hated surviving, when so many others, whom I thought were more deserving, had died. I couldn’t imagine just... going on... after that. And I couldn’t ignore it, either; I learned from bitter experience that that tactic wouldn’t work.

Accept it, Lieutenant. It's not that we’re not in control of our lives, but rather, it is that there are aspects within our lives for which we are fully in control, and it’s within these that we should embrace the opportunity to make the most out of those actions, out of those things which we do have control over, versus pouring huge amounts of energy into things for which we have little to no control.

Stay focused on what’s in front of you.”

C’Rash stared at him, before swallowing and replying, “Thank you, Sir. I’ll try.”

“And talk to someone, someone you trust. Who would you usually turn to, if anyone?”

“My Aunt Kami... but she’s not with us. My wife... but she’s got too much to deal with being in command. But... I’ll find someone.” She looked up and around them again. “We are fully in control of working a way out of here.”

He nodded, smiling a little. “Yes, Lieutenant. Yes, we are.”

*

Uptop, the portable heating units did their best to keep back the cold, at least around the immediate area of the open elevator shaft, as T’Varik stepped back to allow Thykrill to emerge, harnessed with the rappelling equipment, her breath thin, reflecting the Andorian’s greater tolerance for lower temperatures. “The shaft walls have collapsed in on themselves ten metres down, Captain.”

“And there’s no means of clearing enough of the debris to descend further?”

“No, Ma’am; I’ve spent enough of my childhood spelunking in the Thakysrak Caves back home to recognise instability-” But then Thykrill frowned to himself and moved to the wall beside the elevators, wiping the layer of frost from the surface.

T’Varik followed. “What are you doing, Ensign?”

“This shopping complex is on a stop on the city’s underground transport network,” Thykrill reminded her, as she revealed a circuit board-like map of different-coloured lines. She pointed to one point. “We’re here. Why don’t we-”

T’Varik was ahead of her. “Enter from one of the neighbouring stations.” She mentally calculated the four nearest locations. “Team Leaders! Assemble immediately and scan this map, I will assign entry points! You’ll take the shuttles to hasten your arrival!”

*

They crouched at the entrance to the crawlspace they had created with muscle and almost the last of their combined phaser power: a tunnel not even a metre in diameter.

Murphy aimed his tricorder light down it. “How far do you think it runs?”

C’Rash cocked an ear to the entrance. “Between the effective range of our phasers, and the air circulation, I’d say 60-65 metres.”

“You don’t hear anything else?”

“Just echoes. What are your orders, Sir?”

Murphy looked down it again- Fire—he was on fire – and breathed out, handing her his phaser. “You take the point, there’s 5% power remaining in mine, in case you need it.”

She regarded him for a moment hesitantly. “Commander, you know I can smell fear in humans... and even half-humans.”

He swallowed; for all her faults, the Surefoot’s Chief of Security had proved surprisingly perceptive of others, if not herself. “I told you before I was injured on the Sherwood. I was trapped under some debris. I couldn’t move...” He suppressed a shudder, fixing his gaze on her. “I can move now.”

C’Rash frowned back at him. “You’re making me go ahead, in case you freeze in there and don’t want me to be trapped behind you? Aren’t you?”

He pointed into the tunnel. “Get going. I’m starting to feel the cold down here, and some of us aren’t furry.”

She grunted, crouching down. “Excuse my tail, it has a mind of its own.”

Murphy smirked, allowing the humour to distract him. “The number of times I’ve said something similar...”

The tunnel loomed, unrelenting.

Stay focused on what’s in front of you.

He dropped down on all fours and followed.

*

The snow outside had reached almost half a metre in height by the time the party emerged from the shopping complex, and the air was getting progressively harder to breathe without discomfort.

Masterson had remained with at her side. “Captain, we should head back to the ship. The teams should be at the four entrances by now, and one of them will return. There’s no logical reason for our remaining here.”

T’Varik silently acknowledged the validity of his argument, but stopped and turned at the sound of Ensign Stalac slithering up from the interior. “Report.”

The Horta rotated in place to make his combadge face her. “Captain, I- I must regretfully report I can- can no longer be of service to you.”

“Explain.”

The voice from his voder unit sounded strange now. “I- I have been tunnelling extensively since we arrived on Navida III. I- I fear I- I have reached my limits.”

Masterson drew closer, kneeling and aiming his medical tricorder at Stalac. “Thunderation, Son, you’ve damn well done yourself an injury!” He looked up at T’Varik, his face pinkening from more than the cold. “He’s damaged his acid secretion glands from overuse! He needs immediate onboard treatment!”

“No,” Stalac protested. “Commander Murphy and Lieutenant Shall are still-”

“You have already been more than vital to the rescue effort, Ensign,” T’Varik announced decisively. “But you must recognise when you have reached your limits, otherwise your utility becomes a liability. Can you take it back to the landing site on your own power?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Then perhaps you can precede us, and act as a snowplow?”

“Of course, Ma’am! Gladly!”

The Horta moved ahead, the flat siliconoid rumbling eagerly as he cleared a path ahead of the two senior officers.

Masterson rose and sided up to her. “Nicely done, Captain.”

She nodded distractedly, her thoughts still elsewhere as she mentally calculated the amount of time they could remain while still searching for their lost crewmates.

Not liking the answer her mind gave her, she began working out alternatives.

*

Keep crawling, Dom, he told himself. You’ve done it before. You’re not under tons and tons and tons of rock that could come crashing down on you and crush you like a flower pressed in an old-fashioned book and Calista would never see you again and damn it why did he think to go behind Shall her tail kept brushing against his face in the dark like a rat- “How much further, Lieutenant?”

“Just a couple of metres, Sir.”

He imagined she sounded just as stressed and agitated as he was.

Then he bumped into the bottoms of her boots as she stopped. “What’s wrong, Lieutenant? Obstructions?”

She made a shushing sound, and then murmured, “We’re about to emerge, Sir... and I smell and hear living bodies out there.”

He tensed. It wouldn’t be the Surefoot crew; they would be calling out looking for Murphy and Shall. It had to be the Navidans they had been searching for. “Call ahead. Let them know we’re coming.”

“Sir, if they think we’re responsible for what happened to their world, they might attack us as we come out.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

She grunted. “Yes, well, you won’t be the first one to get clobbered... Sir.”

He recognised the humour behind the remark, rather than any genuine disrespect. “Get going or I’ll bite your tail.”

She grunted again and continued onward, calling ahead, “We’re Starfleet! We’re here to rescue you! Stay back while we come out!”

Murphy followed. Stay focused on what’s in front of you.

Finally, gratefully, he emerged out of the tunnel after her, rising up, stretching out his limbs and breathing hard – and then stopping at the group in front of him, illuminated by the light from C’Rash’s tricorder.

It was Navidans: dozens of them, male and female, of all ages, their clothes ragged, their faces dirty, emaciated, eyes wide with fear. Many looked to the crouching Caitian with fear.

He raised his hands up, palms open, voice calm and measured. “It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay. I’m Commander Dominic Murphy of the USS Surefoot. This is Lieutenant Shall. We’re from Starfleet. We’re here to help.”

“Starfleet?” echoed one of the adults in the back.

He smiled warmly. “Yes, Starfleet. And we’re gonna get you out.” He drew out his tricorder and switched on the light, aiming it around him. They stood on the tracks of a tunnel beside another station much like the one they had left behind.

One whose entrance to the surface was filled with fallen debris.

*

They had reached the landing point in the park, and the pattern enhancer ring was half-buried in snow. T’Varik drew out her phaser, adjusted it to an appropriate setting, and began cutting a swathe of energy on the snow, melting it to steam and clearing the area in the centre of the ring. She pocketed the phaser. “Doctor, return to the ship and treat Mr Stalac.”

“Captain,” Stalac ventured. “I can wait for treatment-”

“Ensign, if you continue to argue the matter I will contact your Egg Mother on Janus VI and inform her you are not looking after yourself properly. Do you desire that?”

He rumbled alarmingly. “No, Ma’am!”

“Good. Doctor, ensure he is taken care of.” She tapped her combadge. “T’Varik to Bridge: beam Dr Masterson and Ensign Stalac onboard. I will remain and await the return of the search parties.”

As she watched Masterson and Stalac vanish in transporter energy, Bellator responded, “Captain, the local temperature is now at -60 Celsius. Chief Sakai has fabricated more portable heaters. I am beaming them down now to your location.”

“Very good, Lieutenant.” She watched the units appear, and she began setting them up and activating them, grateful for the warmth they provided, however meagre against the growing, bitter cold.

Then it was quiet again.

She shook the accumulating snow from her jacket and hood and looked out at the surrounding ruins of the city, of a world that had died. Not from war or natural disaster, as so many in the Galaxy have done, but a tragic, needless accident, caused by individuals who chose to allow fear to override common sense.

And now, two more lives might be claimed here: a man who had so much more to do, so much more to give... and a woman who had become her Other Half. She had heard that expression more than once, but having never really bonded with others, she had never fully understood or appreciated it until  she had bonded with C’Rash.

You will return to me, you hot-headed, argumentative, passionate furry bitch.

And the others in her family – Esek, Kami, Sasha, Misha, Sreen... even Jhess – will return as well, safe and sound.

As illogical as it was, she would not entertain anything else.

The silence was snapped by a combadge chirp, and Bellator’s voice again. “Captain, I believe I might have made sufficient compensations on local communications frequencies to at least let you have limited contact with the others on the planet’s surface!”

T’Varik’s pulse quickened. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Stand by.” She tapped her combadge for a fresh channel. “Capt T’Varik to Lt Shall. Capt T’Varik to Cmdr Murphy. Respond.”

Silence.

After a moment, she tried again, and with her third attempt amended it to, “All search parties, report!”

Seconds later, a series of voices responded.

“Ensign Dassene’s team at Point One: there’s a stairwell leading down to the subway station, partially covered in debris from an adjacent fallen building; Mr Kaldron is clearing it away now.”

“Ensign Thykrill’s team at Point Two: the entrance to the subway is fully blocked here, and impassable. We are seeking an alternative entry now.”

“Ensign Jexa-Naku’s team at Point Three: this station entrance was shut down for maintenance prior to the disaster. We’re looking to unlock the gates and enter, we will keep you apprised.”

“Ensign Gentry’s team at Point Four: there appears to have been some sort of flood in the subway access, now frozen over. We’re looking at ways to safely melt the ice.”

T’Varik accepted the reports, her breathing growing laboured as the air became noticeably thinner. “All teams: make haste.”

*

C’Rash climbed up onto the subway platform, examining the debris blocking their exit, as Murphy continued to try to speak with the survivors, who at his count numbered 38. “Have you been down here all this time?”

One of the older Navidan, a middle-aged male with sunken, haggard cheeks, leaned weakly from hunger against a wall. “Yes. I- I’m part of the maintenance crew for the subway network. I was running checks on the tracks when it- it- I began checking the surrounding stations for other survivors, gathering them together, looking for food and supplies. Was it- was it the Dominion?”

“No,” he assured the man. “Definitely not the Dominion.”

He nodded at that, beginning to look hopeful now. “We stayed below, in case it was them. And are there other survivors? If it wasn’t the Dominion, then there must be others.”

Murphy didn’t know how to answer that. Thirty-eight, out of millions...

Then his Security Chief made a sound, and leapt off the platform. “Get down!”

The group, and Murphy, dropped to a crouch, as the platform filled with crimson energy from phasers, and the debris on the stairwell melted away.

Seconds later, a figure appeared from the newly-created tunnel, throwing back her hood to reveal Dassene’s olive face. “Commander? Lieutenant? You’re alive?”

Murphy straightened up again, letting his relief show unchecked. “Yes, Ensign. We are.”

*

T’Varik stood in the circle near one of the heaters, refusing to budge, refusing to move, silently making her demands to the Universe: I hold no religious or secular connection to the holiday. I do not believe in so-called Christmas Miracles. But I approve of the positive attributes it is said to espouse. You know what I desire for Christmas. If it was provided to me, I would not be unappreciative.

Silence answered her.

And then her combadge chirped like a robin. “Captain, Ensign Dassene’s team! We’ve found Commander Murphy and Lt Shall! Alive and well, with 38 Navidan survivors!”

T’Varik responded immediately. “All Teams, cease current operations and rendezvous at Point One! Collect the team members and the survivors and transport them by shuttle directly to the ship! Surefoot, prepare to receive injured survivors! I will return to the ship from here! T’Varik out!”

She lowered her hand, looking around at the snowy, bleak landscape as she entered the transporter circle. They were alive... and they had survivors. Just as she had asked.

Then she dismissed it as a mere coincidence. There was no spiritual agency responsible. It was all down to random chance, and the work of her crew. “T’Varik to Surefoot: beam me up.”

In the whine of the transporter beam, only she heard herself whisper, “Thank you.”

*

“Captain’s Log, USS Surefoot-A, Captain T’Varik Recording: we are departing Navida III with the survivors we have located; the disaster relief vessel Shoreham will be arriving in eight hours to continue the search. The Navidans have a colony in the neighbouring system, and we will take the survivors there; they will not be alone in the Universe. We will then continue on our rendezvous with the Thirteenth Fleet-”

She was interrupted from her log by the Ready Room door chime. “Enter.”

Bellator entered, looking more refreshed following another enforced rest, but also bemused. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

They approached with a PADD. “Captain, we had received the expected daily communications updates from Starfleet Command, everything has been updated and distributed...”

T’Varik looked up. “But?”

“But... there was an additional message, text only, hidden, For Captain’s Eyes Only.” They handed the PADD to her. “I took the liberty of running an audit of the subspace relay signatures tracing its source, using a few algorithms of my own devising. It appears to have come directly from Starfleet Command, but in fact it piggybacked itself along the way... via Starfleet and Ferasan subspace relays operating in the Caitian sector.”

T’Varik bolted to her feet, her fingers quickly keying in the command codes necessary to open the message. Then she read it.

Finally she tapped her combadge. “All Hands, this is the Captain: we have received an encrypted message from Captain Hrelle on Cait. The message is as follows:

‘I’m keeping this short and sweet in case it’s intercepted; make no attempts to respond. The family is all alive and well, and we are organising Resistance efforts against the Rat-Tails. We know why you can’t come for us, and we understand. Take care of yourselves... and don’t touch the snack box under my desk.’”

Through the door to the adjacent Bridge, the sound of cheers was clear.

T’Varik closed the channel, handing the PADD back to Bellator. “Prepare a secure transmission to Admiral Tattok and relay this, with the caveat to keep this classified for security reasons. Then contact Doctor Masterson and see if he is now willing to resume organising the Christmas party. If he is, adjust our roster to allow the maximum number of crew to attend.”

Bellator accepted the PADD, smiling now. “Yes, Ma’am.” They turned to depart, before stopping and glancing back. “Captain, under the circumstances, would it be inappropriate at this time to wish you a Merry Christmas?”

The Vulcan regarded her. “I of course do not follow the pagan traditions of alien cultures... nor do Nova Romans, as far as I was aware.”

Bellator nodded. “You are correct, Captain, we do not. Please excuse my impertinence-”

“However,” T’Varik continued. “There is nothing inherently inappropriate in wishing positive tidings apropos to the season. With that in mind: Merry Christmas, Lieutenant.”

The younger officer smile broadened. “Merry Christmas, Captain.”

*

In the Officer’s Mess, Murphy tucked into a large bowl of sweet and sour chicken and rice, enjoying it almost as much as he enjoyed the sudden lifting of spirits around him at the news of Captain Hrelle’s message. He never met the man, but if a man was a reflection of the feelings of those who know him, then Esek Hrelle must be a supernova.

“Commander?”

He looked up. “Lieutenant? Can I help you?”

C’Rash stood with a tray in her paws. “May I sit, please?”

He motioned to the seat opposite him. “Terrific news about your family.”

She sat down, feeding her tail through the back of the chair. “Yeah, I knew Uncle Esek would work out a way to let us know they were okay. Still wish I was there to help the fat bastard out, of course...” She looked up at him, bristling. “I usually call Captain Hrelle that, I wouldn’t be that disrespectful to any other superior officer-”

He grinned. “So I gathered. And who knows? Maybe we’ll finish up at Betazed quickly, and turn our attentions to Cait?”

“Great Mother Willing, yes. Sir, I wanted to thank you, for your patience and understanding on the planet. I didn’t deserve it, the way I’ve been behaving to you. Usually I get put on the Naughty Step when I go too far, but...” She shrugged.

He laughed at the thought of anyone putting this spitfire on any Naughty Step. “You’re welcome, Lieutenant. It’s over, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Thanks again.” She glanced down at her shuris sandwich, and asked, “Sir, may I make a request, please?”

The question intrigued him enough to set down his fork. “Go ahead.”

Her snout twitched, as if picking up a strange scent. “On the planet, you advised me to talk to someone when I needed to. Someone I trust.”

“Yes, and?”

She looked up again. “I was wondering if it could be you. I mean, while you’re still serving here. I- I need someone I can’t intimidate with my rank and position and general attitude... and someone I’m not sleeping with.”

Murphy smiled. “Seems like I’d fit the bill on both counts. Yes, Lieutenant. I’d be happy to oblige...”

TO BE CONTINUED IN... RED FLAGS