Beach Party - Part 3 of 4: Wipeout

“Aren’t our final two contestants AMAZING?” the competition host cried out, eliciting cheering. “Let’s give them a hand!”

Urad barely heard them. He was fatigued beyond belief, and felt ready to collapse into a huge grey pile. Meanwhile, Tuba was triumphantly raising his gloved hands in the air like a pugilist, dancing around, feeding on the cheers.

How was he doing it?

“Hey, Dickhead!”

Urad turned his head, looking down from the dais to Tori, who had pushed her way to the front. “Little Comrade! You- You shouldn’t be here, to witness my humiliation-”

“Why are you letting him cheat?”

The Hroch blinked. “Cheat? How?”

She pointed to the Ferengi. “He obviously has antigrav mechanisms in his gloves!”

Urad looked over at Tuba, who was now flirting with some of the more attractive, scantily-clad humanoid females on the other side of the dais, beneath the flickering holoscoreboard. “How is it obvious?”

Tori pointed to the board. “Graviton generators interfere with forcefields; there’s a shitload of Starfleet Safety Regs against using antigrav units near holodisplays, Security cells, atmospheric and quarantine fields-”

Urad had heard enough. He saw Tuba had taken off his gloves to powder his hands, and rushed over to pick them up, feeling the weight of them in his grip.

The Ferengi reacted with fury. “Hey, Fatso! What are you doing? Give those back!”

Urad made a show of holding them up, just out of reach of Tuba. “They are lovely, Comrade Competitor!”

Tuba tried to jump up to get them back, unsuccessfully. “They should be! They’re expensive! Genuine Thanos recreations from the Marvel Collection! Those are real jewels in the knuckles!”

“Yes,” Urad agreed – crushing the gloves, watching them spark with electrical discharges.

Tuba’s jaw dropped.

Urad handed them back. “Shall we finish this off now?”

He returned to his barbell, as the host urged Tuba to do the same. The Ferengi slowly, reluctantly followed suit, tried to put on his gloves, and threw them away in frustration when he failed. He was sweating now as he flexed his fingers.

“Here we go,” Urad huffed, squatting down and getting a grip on the barbell, and watching with satisfaction as Tuba did likewise.

“Ready, Contestants?” the Host asked, not waiting for an answer. “One… Two…”

Suddenly Tuba straightened up and pointed out towards the ocean. “Everyone, look! It’s the Horror of Party Beach! Run for your lives!”

Then he leapt off the dais and ran in the opposite direction.

The Host recovered quickly, however, before drawing up to Urad and announcing, “I think we have a winner! Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Cadet Urad Kaldron of the USS Surefoot: The Strongest Person on Sherman’s Planet!”

The crowd went wild. Urad could barely straighten up as Tori joined him onstage and hugged him. “Congrats, Hefty! And you get five bars of gold pressed latinum out of the deal, too! You’re my New Best Friend!”

He nodded wearily. “Fine. But you- You’ll have to carry me back to the others…”

*

Brad dragged the floundering Peter back onto the beach, laying him down on his back and checking him out, shaking his head as he did so. “Look, Handsome, I appreciate your tenacity, but I think it’s crossing the line into Stupidity.”

Peter nodded weakly, squinting up at his silhouette, feeling the edges of the waves rush up to lap at his legs before replying. “I’m- I’m sorry I wasted your time… I only wanted to… to-”

“To what?” Brad prompted, bemused.

Peter wanted to blush, but didn’t have the strength for it. Or for hiding the truth. “I’m... not just a virgin about surfing.”

Brad laughed.

“I hate surfing,” Peter declared. “And I’m an idiot.”

Brad kept laughing. “Yes, you are. Wasting time and energy trying to ride a board instead of me.”

Then he bent down and kissed him.

Peter gasped at the feel of the hot, strong lips against his, and the surge of warmth blossoming from them to the rest of him.

Then Brad rose again, nodding to a tall, sun-bleached building behind the Boardwalk and Promenade. “I’ve had enough of the surf for today. I’m going back to shower and rest up before the concert. You’re welcome to join me.” He smirked. “Unless you’re too tired to move from this spot?”

Peter wasn’t too tired to move from this spot.

*

Stalac twirled as he slithered out of the Castaway bar, his original reason for entering forgotten as his voder unit’s volume was turned to Maximum:

“On a wonderful day like today / I defy any cloud to appear in the sky / Dare any rain drop to plop in my eye / On a wonderful day like today!”

As he strolled along, tourists and sunseekers around him took notice, and began following, enjoying his singing.

“On a wonderful morning like this / When the sun is as big as a yellow balloon / Even the sparrows are singing in tune / On a wonderful morning like this!”

His spectrographic senses were overwhelmed by what he saw now of the people, the sand, the ocean: a kaleidoscope of carbon, silica, quartz, magnesium deposits… so many sensations!

Behind him, one of his more inebriated tagalongs whooped. “All Hail the Singing Turtle! GO, TURTLE, GO!”

“May I take this occasion to say / That the whole human race should go down on its knees / Show that they’re grateful for mornings like these / For the world’s in a wonderful way / ON A WONDERFUL DAY LIKE TODAY!”

*

Stalac hadn’t returned with the drinks, but Zir guessed he had been caught up studying something scientific, and didn’t worry; he was a big, er, boy, anyway.

And she was more focused on Niles, who had managed to attract the attention of a passing waiter and secure them some ice water, and proved charming, if a little naive about the Universe. “My Mom and Dad are Terran-born. Never left the planet, not even to go visit the Moon. ‘Why go out risking your life to visit other worlds, Niles? Everything you could want can be found here on Earth’.” He shook his head. “Tried their best to talk me out of joining Starfleet, but I stuck to my guns.”

“Sticky guns?” she grinned.

He laughed. “Old Earth expression, don’t know where it comes from.” He nodded to her. “What about you? Did your family give you any problems about joining Starfleet?”

Now her expression sobered. “They… didn’t know I was going. I had made the decision when I was fourteen. It took a year to make a plan to slip away and escape Orion space, and eventually reach a Starfleet facility and claim asylum. From there I found a sponsor into the Academy-”

“Wait, wait,” Niles beamed with amazement. “You ran away, at fifteen? You got out of Orion space yourself, on your own?”

She felt her face darken. “Not… on my own. I made deals with various sources, worked my passage.”

He seemed to sense more to the story than what she had told him so far, but didn’t press the matter further. “What made you want to join? I haven’t heard of many Orions wanting to do that.”

Zir pretended to need a drink from her water bottle. She had warmed to Niles quickly, felt comfortable in his presence in ways she was unaccustomed to, but there were things she hadn’t even told her squadmates.

Still, if she ever wanted to be seen as something more than a representative of a criminal, slave-owning society, this was a good way of starting. “There was a restaurant across the street from my family’s shop. They had... slaves working there. Dad would often send me over to order our lunches, and I would get to talk to them while I waited to take them back.”

She looked at him directly when she saw his reaction. “Yes, I knew they were slaves, I knew they were bought and sold and kept as property... but as a child, the moral implications of what that actually meant, of how they had been taken from their old lives and old families and beaten and conditioned into servitude, never struck me.

There was one old woman, a Bolian named Lyxea. She took a shine to me, and she would entertain me with songs and stories of other worlds and races. I was fascinated. I didn’t see her as property, I saw her as a person.”

Her eyes narrowed. “One day, an Orion ship captain who visited the restaurant was so drunk and so displeased with the service he received, that he... he beat Lyxea to death. She-” Zir shuddered. “She didn’t even have anything to do with cooking for him or serving him, she just- she just happened to be within reach for him to vent his anger upon.

And I saw it, from our shop. I saw her being attacked. I wanted to rush over and help her, but Father stopped me. I wailed and sobbed until I was taken away into the back.”

Niles face went ashen. “I’m- I’m so sorry to hear that, Zir.”

She looked away, embarrassed at unloading all of that upon him, when they had only just met and were just having a pleasant conversation, and embarrassed at her own reaction, despite the years that had passed since that horrible day. “That… That wasn’t even the worst of it. That came later, when I learned that the ship captain had been prosecuted… for property damage. Not murder. Property damage. He paid a fine and was on his way.

And everyone around me accepted this as normal. Routine. Even the restaurant owner bought himself a replacement for Lyxea. Like she’d been an oven or a table. Everyone went on with the rest of their lives.

But I couldn’t. My eyes had been opened, and wouldn’t close again. The more I saw and heard and read and learned about the world around me, the more it sickened me. The more I found I had to get away from it, by any means necessary.”

“My God,” Niles breathed. “What you went through must have been horrible.”

“Not as horrible as what slaves go through. I wanted to fight the system… but the only people I had ever heard of who were trying was this collection of interfering aliens called Starfleet. I knew I had to find them-”

“Zir!”

She glanced up to see Astrid approach. She was at first relieved to see a chance to get out of this heavy conversation – until she saw the look on Astrid’s face, an unaccustomed upset. She rose to meet her squadmate. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? What’s happened?”

Astrid was trembling, looking almost ready to burst into tears, prompting Zir to look back at Niles. “Sorry, we’ll talk another time, okay?”

The young man nodded in understanding, rose and made his departure.

Zir guided Astrid down under their umbrella, offering her Zir’s bottle of water and asking, “What’s happened?”

Astrid drank, swallowed, wiped her hand across her face and composed herself as best she could, before speaking again in a fractured, fragile voice, showing a vulnerability Zir had never seen in the human woman before. “I was… I was in a restaurant near the Marina. A man, Salazar, approached me. He talked like he was someone who knew the Michel family back in the Sol system.

He wasn’t. He wanted information on Charles Michel. I tried to leave, but he fixed something he called a Corvallen synaptic clamp on my neck. I… I froze. I did whatever he said. I- I couldn’t control myself. He asked me questions, and I answered. I told him things I’m not supposed to tell anyone. I couldn’t stop myself. I- I couldn’t-”

Zir pulled her into an embrace, hugging her tightly, not believing what she was hearing. A synaptic clamp? Was such a thing real? She hadn’t heard of one, but that didn’t mean anything. Astrid was certainly acting as if it had been real. “We have to contact the local police, the Captain-”

Astrid pulled back, shaking her head frantically. “No! We can’t!”

“We have to! He assaulted you! He has to be arrested-”

Now the human woman looked terrified. “No! You don’t understand! If this goes to court, the information will be revealed, made public! It can’t be revealed, I’ll get in trouble, my father will lose his job!”

“Your father? Charles Michel? But he doesn’t have a job, he’s-”

“No! He’s not my- I mean-” She bit her lip. “I can’t tell you! Please, just trust me! What he got from me can’t be made public! We have to stop him! Get back the evidence!”

Zir regarded her now, her words, her obvious panic. It went against her Starfleet training, but… “Do you know where he is now?”

Astrid nodded, still wiping her face. “The Overlook Hotel, Room 217.”

Zir nodded back, grabbing her shirt and slipping it over her swimsuit. “Okay. Let’s go see him.” She paused. “Unless you want to stay here, or go back to the ship-”

“No!” She shook her head again emphatically. “It wouldn’t be safe for you, if he put that thing on you as well.” Then her expression hardened. “Besides, I want to face him again. I almost went over there myself before I thought of coming back here.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. Come on.”

They rose to their feet, just as Urad and Tori strode up, Tori declaring, “Hey guys, guess who’s the Strongest-” She stopped and frowned. “What’s going on?”

Zir looked to them. “Someone assaulted Astrid. We’re going to confront him. You interested in coming along?”

Urad’s muzzle creased into a frown, and he flexed his huge arms. “I do indeed, Ma’am.”

Tori scowled, her hands balling into fists. “Fuck, yeah. Where’s Peter and Stalac?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t wait. Come on.”

*

Salazar opened the door to the young Orion woman, and smirked. “That’s funny, I don’t remember ordering entertainment from Reception.”

Zir pulled her shirt closed over her front. “I didn’t come to entertain you.”

The man started as Astrid, Tori and Urad stepped into view. “Get the hell out of here!”

He tried to close the door on them, but Zir pushed it open again and stepped inside, with the others following. Salazar stepped back, before raising his voice. “Computer: Inform Reception that a group of Starfleet cadets have broken into my room and are threatening me.” He indicated the door. “You’d better leave now, before you get into trouble.”

“‘Trouble’?” Astrid echoed with outrage. “You assaulted me! You stuck a device on me, forced me to give up secrets!”

He shrugged. “Forced? As far as I recall, we were having a friendly, civilised talk in public. You never appeared stressed or coerced.” He smiled mirthlessly. “I even have recordings to prove it.”

Astrid started towards him, but Zir cut her off, stepping forward, her face taut with anger. “Mr Salazar, you had no right to do what you did. Now, you’ll hand over the device and the evidence you gathered, or else-”

“Or else what?”

“Or else, we’ll get your ass thrown in jail!”

The man smirked, folding his arms. “No you won’t, or you would have done it already. And your little friend and I know why.” Then his eyes brightened with a thought. “Has she even told you what this is all about? The secrets she revealed to me?” He chuckled. “You’re here, risking arrest and you have no idea why?”

“We know why,” Zir countered. “Because a friend and squadmate need us. That’s all that matters.”

“Mr Salazar,” Urad interrupted, stepping around to face the man. “Perhaps we could make a deal?” He held up his hand, where his competition winnings sat. “Five bars of Gold Pressed Latinum. All yours, for the items we asked for.”

Astrid looked to him, appearing shocked. “Urad… you’d- you’d do that for me?”

“Of course; you mean more to me than this paltry sum.” He nodded to Salazar. “Well?”

The man regarded the small wealth with what appeared to be genuine consideration… and then shook his head. “No. The information I have is worth a lot more than that.” But then he leered at Zir, looking her over and reaching out to touch her face. “Now, if you included your charms into the offer-”

Zir stopped his arm, using some of the self-defence manoeuvres Lt Shall had been teaching her to twist the man’s arm around his back and slam him into the nearest wall.

“Let go of me!” he demanded.

Zir looked to the others. “Search the room, find everything he has-”

“Zir?” came a new voice.

That made her turn now. “Peter?”

The young man was at the doorway, half-dressed, another hotel room door opposite open, with the surfer Zir had seen earlier inside, watching in confusion. “Zir, what the hell’s going on?”

And then Peter was joined from behind by hotel security staff, as Salazar called out, “Help! They’re attacking me, robbing me! GET THE POLICE!”

*

Once they were processed, they weren’t long in their cell before the door slid open again, and one of the local police appeared. “I’ve got a cadet here who says he’s with your Squad. He says he’s a Horton.”

Zir bolted to her feet. “You mean a Horta? You mean Stalac?” Her hopes raised, as she thought he had come to have them released.

“Yeah.” He turned at the doorway. “Come on, Diva, get inside.”

“Diva?” Zir queried, confused.

The guard stepped back. “We caught him on the beach, singing old show tunes and giving children rides on his, uh, back.”

Stalac slithered in, slowly, almost painfully, putting himself in the corner and somehow looking thoroughly sorry for himself. “By the Egg Mother, all my brains ache. Which way is up?”

“Stal…” Zir started, astonished. “Are you... drunk?”

“Well… in the sense that I feel like I’ve been liquefied and ingested, then yes.”

Zir started to respond, before shaking her head and turning to the guard. “Sir, have you contacted our ship yet?”

“We’re getting to it. In the meantime, just sit tight.” Then he closed the door on them again.

Zir wanted to say something further, but instead just returned to the bench beside Peter and the others. They were silent.

Until Astrid spoke. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get all of you in trouble like this. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“You can start by telling us what that sleazy, slimy prick Salazar got from you,” Tori suggested.

“It doesn’t matter,” Zir defended quickly. “All that matters is that a squadmate was attacked, and we had to do something about it.”

“I’d agree with you in principle,” Peter noted. “If I hadn’t literally walked in on you in time to get arrested even though I wasn’t involved, and only have half the story. Damn, the look on Brad’s face as we were escorted down the corridor…”

“I hope you at least got some before you were arrested,” Tori quipped.

Peter blushed, but couldn’t help smiling as he looked away.

“It doesn’t matter what secrets he got from Astrid,” Zir persisted.

“Yes, it does,” Astrid encountered. “And it’s irrelevant, because once he sells the interview and story to the highest bidder, it’ll be all over the Quadrant. Besides, all of you got in trouble because of me, you should at least know before everyone else does.”

She breathed in deeply, seemingly gathering her strength before continuing. “Charles Michel has a reputation for enjoying the company of ladies… and for not caring if birth control was employed. To that end he collected a litter of children from different mothers, taking them in and raising them.

My mother, Marianne Cain, was one of those mothers; she slept with him, and a year later presented him with an infant daughter. One genetic signature test to confirm paternity later, and he was arranging to take full custody of me, and awarding a permanent stipend for my mother, who got what she wanted and had no interest in being a part of my life.”

Her eyes brightened with memory. “Not that that mattered to me. I never knew her, never missed her. I had my father, and nine brothers and sisters, and a small army of nannies, tutors, nursemaids and staff supporting the Michel Dynasty.

We had the Best of Everything: home, possessions, education, vacations, privilege beyond the imagination of most Federation citizens. I was… happy. So happy. And I was being groomed to take my place in the Michel Corporation.

All of that changed when I was twelve, and fell ill, seriously ill. The best specialists were employed, they performed deep-scan tests, and determined the cause of my illness was genetic signature alteration performed on me when I was newborn, an alteration that had begun unravelling when I hit puberty.”

“Alteration?” Peter echoed. “You mean your genetic code was changed?”

Astrid nodding, eyes remaining fixed on the cell floor before them. “Charles Michel’s genetic signature on my DNA was forged, when my mother took me to some hospital on Adigeon Prime. My actual biological father was Darren Gaffney, a pilot in the Michel Shipping Corps, who knew my mother briefly, and later had a family of his own. He didn’t even know I existed, until much later.

When the doctors undid the alterations and told me, I didn’t believe them. It couldn’t be true, it had to be a mistake! Maybe even a conspiracy, to make me believe I wasn’t Charles Michel’s daughter!

My mother went to prison on Mars, facing a lengthy sentence. The might of the Michel legal forces ensured this: the records were kept sealed, and those involved signed nondisclosure agreements, even my mother, as part of a bargain against an even lengthier sentence.

And I was summarily removed, physically and legally, from the only family I ever knew, the only home… the only man I ever knew as my father. I was sent to live with my biological father and his own family, and… compelled not to make contact with him, or any of the Michel family.”

“Why?” Zir asked, appalled. “Why would Mr Michel keep quiet about it? And why would he reject you? You weren’t at fault!”

Astrid wiped at her eyes, though she didn’t feel like she was crying. “Because the Galaxy can’t know that someone tricked the great Charles Michel into paying out a small fortune over many years; that just will not do. You don’t get to be a trillionaire and be seen as a dupe.

And in his eyes, I stopped being his daughter, and became a reminder of that duplicity. I was warned that if I revealed what had happened to anyone and broke the nondisclosure agreement, there’d be trouble.”

“What?” Peter exclaimed. “You’re in Starfleet! Not even Charles Michel can get to you!”

“No – but he can get to my biological father, get him fired, revoke his pilot’s licence… ruin him and his family. Darren Gaffney and his wife and children took me in, a stranger, and gave me a home for the last few years. They’re innocent, too, and don’t deserve to become victims of Michel’s wrath.

As for me, provided I kept quiet, I got to keep the Michel surname, and a modest trust fund, both of which helped me keep up the illusion of my former identity.” She looked to them again. “I’ve been living a lie with all of you. I’d like to say I did it just for my real father, but… I liked it. I liked pretending that I was still really that young woman people admire and envy. I’m... sorry.”

Zir looked around, gauging the reactions of the others as best she could, before responding. “Astrid… I don’t know if you can call it a ‘lie’. Maybe it was just… not the complete truth. You had secrets. We all do.”

“That’s for sure,” Peter agreed. “Someday when we have time I’ll tell you mine.”

“And mine,” Tori added.

“And mine,” Stalac offered. “Well, as soon as I have some.”

“None of that matters to us, Comrade,” Urad completed. “And we are sorry for you-”

“No!” Astrid bolted to her feet and faced them, her expression hardening. “Don’t any of you dare feel sorry for me! Astrid Michel will accept admiration, lust, envy, exasperation, anger… but no pity! I don’t want it!”

Zir looked up at her squadmate, and stood as well. “You’re not getting our pity, Cadet. But you will get our support. And our friendship.”

“And of course our awe at your exquisite taste in fashion,” Stalac contributed.

Peter smiled. “And gratitude for your help with men.”

Tori folded her arms. “And hatred for those stupid long legs that go for light years right up to those stupid perfect breasts.”

Astrid looked to them all, and some of her old self returned. “And so you should.” But she couldn't hide her true feelings from her eyes.

Suddenly the cell door slid open again – and a large, brown-furred Caitian in a Starfleet uniform entered. “Alpha Squad: congratulations, you're the first cadets of your class to get arrested. I should have put a bet on in the ship’s pool.”

Zir bolted to attention. “Captain! We- We were expecting Lieutenant Neheru, or Shall-”

Hrelle folded his hands behind him, his expression hard. “They’re busy. So was I, but not too busy to deal with something like this. What happened? I’ve been told that Mr Stalac caused a commotion on the beach singing ancient Terran show tunes… and that the rest of you broke into a hotel room and attacked a man.”

“No, Sir! I mean… well, yes, we did, sort of. But that was after he assaulted Astrid, used something called a... Corvallen synaptic clamp on her to make her talk, make her give away... family secrets, which he’s planning to sell off. We went to try and persuade him not to go through with it, but he refused. He was so arrogant and nasty, I- I lost control- I’m responsible for getting us in here, Sir, not my Squad-”

He raised a hand to cut her off, his expression shifting after hearing of the device. “And you thought it more appropriate to confront him yourselves rather than seek help from higher authorities?”

“Uh, yes, Sir.” Zir grew hesitant, unsure of how much she could reveal. “The nature of the information he obtained, it- uh-”

Fortunately the Captain put her out of her misery. “I’m well aware of Cadet Michel's history; you should still have contacted me.” He drew closer to Astrid. “Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance, or Counseling?”

The young woman repressed a shudder, but otherwise offered her CO a professional mask as she replied, “No, Sir. At least not now, but… I have a feeling I’ll be speaking with your wife for some time to come about this, however. I’d rather enjoy my shore leave first and deal with it later.”

“Understood. Anyway, I’m here, and I’ve had the charges dropped; one of the advantages of being a Hero-” Then he sniffed the air and frowned. “Who had sex?”

All eyes turned to a blushing Peter, who found something interesting to look at in the corner of the cell.

Hrelle grunted. “Come on, let’s go before Mr Stalac starts singing tracks from Cats.”

Part 4 of 4: The Big Kahuna