Blue Sunshine

 

“USS Surefoot, Captain’s Log, Stardate 52647.15, Esek Hrelle, Recording: After my extended stay on Cait leading the Occupation, I have finally resumed command of my ship, with my First Officer T’Varik returning to her former rank and role, as the Task Force leaves Cait to rejoin the rest of the Thirteenth Fleet in the Betazed Sector.

I have reluctantly left behind Kami, my wife and Counselor, with our young cubs Misha and Sreen. They have been such an integral part of my life these last few years, that being separated from them will be difficult. And not just emotionally; I’ll need treatment to minimise Caitian Pheromone Withdrawal.

But Kami had been right, as usual. She needs to stay and help coordinate the medical response to the psychological trauma our people have undergone under the Ferasans, and our offspring deserve a taste of normalcy, with other cubs as well as their extended family... especially if the Dominion War is building to a crescendo, as it seems to be doing now. At least my daughter Sasha will be nearby, on the Ajax under my Little Buddy Weynik.  

Despite this, I’m excited to be back. Pleased. Happy. Really, I am. I’ve missed Starfleet life. I’ve missed the routine, the technology, the protocols, and knowing everyone around me.”

*

“Who in the Seven Hells is that?”

Hrelle stood in the doorway of the Enlisted Mess Hall/Rec Lounge, looking across the party at the Gorn in the gaudy Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts and oversized sandals, dancing and flirting with Engineering Crewman Dylan Lee.

He had voiced his query as a rhetorical mutter, which he assumed would be lost in the din of the loud, awful music the cubs seemed to prefer these days – bet they never even heard of David Bowie – but obviously T’Varik, standing beside him, had picked it up, as she responded, “Support Services Crewman Kevin O’Reilly.”

“I meant the Gorn.”

“As did I.”

The Caitian looked to her, frowning. “There had better be a good story behind that.”

The Vulcan nodded. “I believe you will find it so. He was discovered as a hatchling on an abandoned Gorn outpost on Wirisk IV by a Starfleet Away Team. The local records confirmed that he had been left behind intentionally, to die of exposure.”

His hackles rose, and his response was a half-growl. “Why?”

“The reason was attributed to the circumstances of his being sired by a male outside of his mother’s familial Clutch. Or, as Mr O’Reilly himself has colourfully put it, ‘I wass a basstard before it wass fasshionable’.”

Hrelle continued to scowl at the very notion, his Starfleet-ingrained tolerance of other races’ cultural differences eclipsed by his natural Caitian revulsion towards someone leaving an infant cub to die over something that wasn’t their fault. Then he looked to her again. “That still doesn’t explain the name... or that phoney British accent you just tried to do.”

She raised an indignant eyebrow. “I believe you will find that was Australian, not British... and with a high degree of verisimilitude, too. When Starfleet Command contacted the Gorn Hegemony and informed them of the hatchling’s existence, they showed no interest in taking him back. He was then brought to Earth, adopted by a human family in Queensland, and raised there.”

He looked back as the Gorn continued to groove to the music. Come on, Esek, is it any stranger than your human daughter embracing Caitian culture as fiercely as she has? “He seems friendly enough.”

“He is also fair dinkum on a surfboard, too. Do you wish me to make introductions?”

He noticed the growing interest the off-duty crewmembers had at the arrival of the senior officers, and shook his head, stepping back outside into the clear air of the corridor; Ugh, teenagers of all races stink like nobody’s business. “I have one-to-one meetings scheduled in the coming days with everybody onboard, so we’ll meet eventually anyway. Damn, on top of all my other outstanding work, it’ll take ages to get through everyone.”

“You might expedite matters if you didn’t keep cancelling such meetings.” At his reaction, she clarified, “Counselor Alexander Auger’s initial session with you this morning?”

He grunted, waving her along as he proceeded towards the aft of the ship. “One meeting. I cancelled one meeting. And I rescheduled it, didn’t I? Besides, Kami gave me a clean bill of health before I left Cait, that should be good enough for Mr Auger.” He grunted. “I can’t believe you asked for him.”

“I did not ask for him specifically. And once Kami confirmed she would be remaining behind, I could not leave the post unoccupied. He came highly recommended from the Counseling staff on the Triton, and has already held sessions with numerous crewmembers.”

“He won’t be as good as Kami.”

“There is an obvious bias behind that presupposition... but I will not argue against it.”

“Anyway, I have much more important things to do: backlogs of Starfleet reports, Federation news, re-certification of operational licences, inspections-”

“Spying on the Enlisted Crew’s Friday Night Party?” she added dryly.

He stopped again and eyed her critically. “You know, you’ve gotten way saltier in my absence; it must be exhaustion from the gigaquads of Captain’s Logs you left me to wade through. Seven Hells, T’Varik, it’s like trying to read all twelve volumes of The Never Ending Sacrifice. Simultaneously.”

“My apologies, Captain. I desired to be thorough.”

He continued walking. “There’s thorough, and then there’s devastating. Between this and your attempts at accents, I’d almost think you were in love with the sound of your own voice.”

She seemed to consider his words as she followed. “I have been complimented on my oral skills by C’Rash. I merely assumed my wife was referring to something else.”

He shot her another aside.

Then laughed so hard he startled some passing crewmen.

*

Hrelle hopped off the biobed in Main Sickbay and reached for his jacket. “Well, Doc? In fine fettle as usual?”

Doctor Ezekiel Masterson, a tall, rugged, pale-skinned human male from a colony that embraced the culture of the American Wild West of almost five centuries ago, made a sound as he set aside his tricorder and sensor wand. “Well, ignoring the replaced right eye, the repair done to your heart and various bones, and the passel of disruptor, stab, claw and burn wounds you collected while on Cait...”

“Yes?”

He looked to Hrelle. “You’ve put on weight again. I’d hate to be the burro that’d have to carry you across the Panhandle.”

The Caitian harrumphed, having already come to that conclusion himself after trying on some pre-fabricated uniforms he had left behind in his quarters. “Actually, Zeke, I think you’ll find it’s your sensors that need calibrating to compensate for my extended stay on a planet with a lighter gravity than is standard onboard a Starfleet vessel. You just have to round down.”

“Yeah, I can swallow that load of mule muffins ya just shovelled my way... or you can get back into a regular exercise routine. With a restricted menu on all the replicators... and no begging for snack handouts from the rest of the crew. Your First Officer has been informed of this already.”

Hrelle’s tail drooped. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a real ballache, Doc?”

Masterson grinned good-naturedly. “Thanks, Pardner; now I know you agree with me. You’ll be done here, once my new Chief Nurse starts the pheromone suppressant treatment.”

“Fine, the sooner I vamoose, the better-” Then he grinned as another familiar face approached. “Eydiir!” He held out his arms to hug her, but then stopped and dropped them again. “Sorry, I know I overstep my bounds sometimes and do not behave in as professional a manner as I should with my Cubs- I mean, crew.”

The tall, muscular, coffee-skinned Capellan woman in Medical Blue nodded, but offered a wry grin. “That might be true, Sir... if we were two different people, who had not gone through what we have gone through together.” She held out her own arms and embraced him.

He hugged her back, chuckling as he withdrew and noted her medical insignia. “And the Daughter of Kaas has finally achieved her goal and completed her qualifications! Quite a battle, studying while continuing your duties!”

She turned and prepared a hypospray. “The medical texts never knew what hit them, Sir. ”

He chuckled. “Even with a tyrant like my replacement keeping you as busy as I’m sure she had?”

Eydiir’s gaze narrowed in recognition of the banter as she returned to him. “Commander T’Varik was an exemplary Commanding Officer, Sir... but she could never replace you. No one could.”

He grinned as she pressed the business end of the hypospray against his neck; his cubs, the original Alpha Squad, always knew how to give him Happy Tail. Then he brightened with inspiration. “A party! We need a party to celebrate! We can have cake and beer and cake and snacks... and cake!”

From the far end of Sickbay, Masterson’s voice carried. “Y’all know I can still hear you, donchya?”

“It’d be an official ship function, Zeke,” Hrelle called back jovially. “You can give me a medical dispensation!” Then he noticed the reaction on the young Capellan’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Eydiir looked uncomfortable. “Doctors Masterson, Shyrik and Kline already threw a party for me, Sir, a month ago, before we got the call to come to Cait and assist your people.”

“Oh.” His tail stopped wagging.

“I am sorry, Sir. We could of course throw another one for your benefit-”

“What? Mother’s Cubs, no! That’d be extravagant and indulgent, bad for my waistline and embarrassing for you! Life Goes On, whether or not we’re there to be a part of it.” He held out a paw. “So instead I will offer you my sincere congratulations once more.”

She accepted it. “Thank you, Sir. For everything.”

Then he leaned in and asked, “I don’t suppose you can get some Doctor’s qualifications super quick, take over from Doc Cowpat and prescribe me a jumbo platter of shuris pieces?”

She offered a slight, sly smile. “And if – when – I do become a Doctor, do you think I’d behave any differently towards protecting your health, Sir?”

He grunted, his tail dropping again. “Hmph. I can’t corrupt any of my Cubs.”

*

He should have returned to his Ready Room to continue his catch-up work, but decided instead to do one more tour around the ship. Just to be sure that everything was where it was meant to be.

He ended up on the Bridge, frowning at the battle unfolding on the viewscreen, with Tholian Webships attempting to weave an energy lattice around the Surefoot.

Immediately he recognised it as a simulation, as Lt Bellator sat in his chair, staring intently ahead, giving orders, while Lt Shall sat beside them, offering guidance. He nodded to the others at their stations when they noticed him: Ensign Zir Dassene at Ops, Ensign Atiaro Thykrill at Tactical beside her, Petty Officer Arid Maf at Engineering, Lt Kitirik at Science and Lt Giles Arrington at the Helm.

Finally C’Rash, sniffing the air and catching his scent, rose and turned to face him. “Captain?”

Bellator practically bolted out of the chair as if propelled from it, the Nova Roman’s normally sallow complexion turning almost as purple as their crop of hair. “Captain! Forgive me, this was not Lt Shall’s doing! I insisted on taking the time during this shift to receive some informal Command training! I can assure you the sensors and alerts are all set to inform us of any genuine problems and-”

He raised a paw to stop their apology, not sure whether to be amused by their over-the-top response to his presence, or disconcerted that he might be perceived as some martinet who would go Supernova at something like this. He knew Bellator a little more than many of the other newcomers onboard, but they hadn’t served long before he ended up stranded on Cait. “Settle down, Lieutenant, no need to fall on your sword. I have no problem with this, it’s a productive use of everyone’s time during these long, uneventful shifts.” He smiled at the viewscreen. “Oh, look, we’re dead.”

All eyes turned to see the simulated Tholians’ energy lattice shrink and crush the ship, as Zir ended the exercise, and the normal warp speed-dilated starfield returned to the viewscreen.

Bellator faced him again, their voice laced with anxiety. “Sorry, Sir! I can do better, I promise!”

You can hardly do worse, Cub... “I have no doubt, Lieutenant. Go ahead and reset the simulation.” He smiled. “In fact, if you like I can sit in with you and give you a few tips on the real-life tussles I’ve had with the Tholians.”

Both junior officers reacted to his suggestion, neither in a way Hrelle expected. Then C’Rash patted Bellator on the shoulder and approached her uncle, taking him to one side and dropping her voice to a whisper as she asked, “Captain, could I ask that you offer such guidance to them at another time?”

He frowned, his tail snapping behind him. “What’s wrong? You think I don’t have anything useful to offer, Lieutenant?”

She bristled, but to her credit stood her ground as she replied, “On the contrary, Sir, you’ll be invaluable to them, to anyone who wants to learn how to command right... when they’re ready for you. Bellator’s not ready, not yet, they’re still working out all the issues they had when you first recruited them.

Uncle Esek, in your absence you’ve become... legendary. Especially after everyone learned about what you did on Cait; you saved a whole fricking planet! Legends can be intimidating. Let them build up their confidence so they’re not ready to wet themselves in your presence.”

He glared at her... but then relaxed as he accepted the truth behind his niece’s words, and admired the mature empathy she was showing her fellow crewmembers – another development I missed out on while I was away...

He nodded and stepped back, announcing more loudly, “Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t stick around here all evening, I have a planet’s worth of catch-up work to get through in my Ready Room.” To Bellator he added, “Lieutenant, what little I saw of your performance just now is very encouraging.”

The non-binary junior officer flushed further. “Thank you, Sir! Thank you!”

He winked at C’Rash. “Carry on.” Then he turned and entered his Ready Room, determined to settle down and continue catching up with the logs, the reports, the reviews, the news from Starfleet and the rest of the Galaxy...

“Reminder,” the computer announced, “Your rescheduled Counseling session with Doctor Auger commences in ten minutes.”

Hrelle grunted; the only reason the computer would remind him now was if the new Counselor had added the reminder, the cheeky bastard. “Computer: any word about my requested communications call with my family on Cait?”

“Negative; the local subspace relay network is still under maintenance and replacement.”

“Hmph.” He knew he should have asked Tattok to have their people work on the network the Ferasans had destroyed when they invaded. “Computer: Cancel the appointment with Counselor Auger, send him my apologies, but something urgent has come up.”

One minute later, he had Weynik on the screen from his friend’s own Ready Room on the Ajax, the Roylan being his usual supportive self. “Well, well, Wide Load, it’s nice to see the chairs are still as sturdy as ever on your ship.”

“And it’s nice to see that you’ve finally had the screen camera adjusted so I can see more than just the top of your head. We all have to look at that scaly scalp more than enough already.”

“Fleabag. How’s life back onboard?”

“It...” He glanced around, finally able to open up to someone who wasn’t under his command. “It feels strange, to be honest. Sometimes, it’s like I’ve never left. Other times, it feels like I’ve dropped into a quantum reality that’s almost identical to the one I remember, but not quite. New faces, new routines. Even the ship feels slightly different at high warp, with the recent changes to the warpfield harmonics.”

Weynik nodded. “A new adjustment, to help counter the Breens’ energy-dampening weapons.”

“So I’ve learned... after embarrassing myself when I accused Chief Sakai of letting the efficiency slack. Not having Kami and the Cubs onboard isn’t helping, either. And they’ve got some stranger doing my wife’s job, too... as if anyone could take her place.”

“Well, so long as you don’t confuse the two, and take the wrong one to bed.” Then his smile dropped, his black eyestalks drooping forward. “Seriously, though, Buddy, are you okay? I mean, really? You went through your Caitian Seven Hells on your homeworld. No one would blame you in the slightest if you needed more time off to get yourself back on track.”

Hrelle smiled. “Thanks, Short Round, but I’ll be fine once I get my space legs back. And what about Sasha? I tried to call her earlier, but I was told she was unavailable. You’re not cracking the whip too much on her?”

“On the contrary, Chunky, I’ve had to tell her off for jumping in at the deep end too soon. She’s got her own Counseling sessions to go through, and the EMH recommended she have some Quiet Time afterwards.”

Hrelle frowned. “What? You’re letting your Emergency Medical Hologram do the Counseling for her?”

“It’s a small ship, Buddy, we don’t have space to keep a real full-time Counselor onboard.”

“But that bald bag of photons has all the empathy of a dynospanner! He’ll have her quitting Starfleet!”

Weynik frowned, before chuckling. “Oh, you think we still use the Mark One EMHs. The Mark Threes are more relatable and comfortable to be with in comparison. And better looking, too.”

Hrelle made a sound. We’re up to Mark Three EMHs already? “Well, give her my love, and tell her to stay out of Horny Jail for a while.”

Weynik chuckled, but then offered, “Hey, you want me to come over for a visit? We’ll have a few beers and a game or six of poker, teach the Squabs and the junior officers a few things?”

Hrelle smiled back. “Thanks, but I do have a lot of work I’ve been putting off.” He patted his belly. “And exercise. See you later, Little Buddy.”

Weynik smiled back. “Take it easy, Hefty.”

Hrelle stared at the now-black screen for a moment, before his stomach rumbled, and in a moment of inspiration, remembered his snack box under his desk. Bet you forgot about that, eh, Doc Cowboy-

It was gone.

Bollocks.

*

“Bollockss!” Kevin cursed, as sauce dribbled down from one end of his jumbo chilli cheese dog to splatter on his Hawaiian shirt. He set his snack down and reached for a napkin, dipping one end into a glass of water to dab at it. “Thiss iss my favourite bloody ssshirt!”

“It still is, technically.” Sitting across from him, Hylore Waro’s voice, filtered through her voder unit, offered a hint of sympathetic humour as she made adjustments to her environmental suit. As water drained down to let her remove her helmet, the Argoan pointed out, “Look at the colours you have on it already.”

Alison Pagan, sitting beside her, grinned, taking in the rest of the room as the other Enlisted personnel were taking breaks between songs. “Besides, you keep charming the pants off Dylan the way you’re doing, you won’t be wearing it for long. Hope you’ve got some human-compatible lube if you don’t want to leave him with a sore-” Then she stopped and looked at the other end of the table. “Sorry, Gyve.”

The eyes of most of the rest of the Support Crew turned towards Sre Gyver Timbrel, the tall, gentle, black-skinned, black-maned equinoid from Paladel, who never avoided such group activities but whose religious beliefs restricted him to staying on the sidelines, drinking water and keeping an eye on his friends.

Now he looked to his crewmate and nodded in appreciation. “No apology is necessary, Alison. Equanimity is one of the Twelve Vows I took before leaving my world to serve others; I am in no position to judge anyone... not even foul-mouthed hedonistic infidels like yourselves who are clearly destined for Perdition’s Storms for your many, many sins.” He sipped at his drink... not trying to conceal his sly smile.

Sitting beside Kevin, taking the wet napkin from him to more properly deal with the stain, Malala Jain grinned, her hairless, ashen-grey Malurian skin reflecting the lights above. “Well, as long as you’re not judging.” Then she leaned in closer to her reptoid crewmate and whispered, “Do you want me to get you some lube from Sickbay?”

Kevin hissed with pleasure. “Thankss, Mate, but don’t worry, thiss issn’t my firsst time with a handssome ssstud! Left more than one hunk back home with a limp and a sssmile!” He glanced across at Gyver now, raising a clawed thumb to him. “And with you praying for my wicked ssspirit, I ssshould be sssafe from any Hell!”

“I will do my best, my friend... but even my Gods have limits.”

As the others laughed, the final member of the Support Crew, Valentin Dellaport, who had been leaning against an adjacent wall cradling a replicated beer bottle, finally stopped brooding long enough to run an irritated hand through his truculent straw-coloured hair as if to illustrate his latest rant. “Seriously, though, doesn’t anyone else think it’s outrageous that they let him take command again?”

Hylore finally removed and set aside her helmet, revealing her wet chartreuse hair and skin, the triad of gills on either side of her thick neck fluttering in the open air as she reached for her seastrings and chopsticks. “Please, Valentin, give it a rest. I can only be out like this for a little while. I’d like to spend it conflict-free.”

Malala looked up from her cleaning, releasing Kevin’s shirt and setting aside the napkin. “Val, we’re here to have a good time tonight, not have another argument.”

“Who’s arguing? I’m not arguing! There’s nothing to argue about.” He straightened up, taking another drink before announcing, “It’s all political, you know.”

“Ssstrewth, Mate, just keeping drinking, and ssstop wagging your tongue like a tail.” Kevin rose to his feet as Dylan approached. “Hello again, Handssome, glad you didn’t dessert me.”

Dylan, a muscular, freckled Canadian with a broad chin and crinkled copper hair, chuckled as he leaned in close. “No, but I will have you for dessert!”

“Get a room, you two,” Alison teased.

“I hope ssso!” Kevin cackled delightedly.

“I mean it,” Dellaport continued, seemingly oblivious to the attempts to abort his polemic. “They took command from T’Varik and gave it back to Hrelle just because of what happened to his planet! And he’s clearly not up to the job!”

Dylan dropped his smile and looked to Dellaport. “Excuse me?”

“Ignore him,” Kevin urged, “He’ss consstipated.”

“High Tide sweep me away,” Hylore muttered, setting down her chopsticks and rubbing her eye sockets wearily. “Enough of the attitude already! You’d start an argument with a reef!”

Malala looked to him. “Val, they gave Captain Hrelle back command because this ship is his command! And they wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t fully able! He’s a magnificent Captain! He’s done so much good for Starfleet and the Federation! For more people than we can ever know!”

“Well, that’s no surprise to hear you saying that,” he countered sourly. “It’s like a day can’t go by without you reminding us of how he saved you and a bunch of your fellow Malurians! It’s getting tiresome!”

“Not as much as hearing you spout another rant,” Alison pointed out.

But Dellaport continued relentlessly. “Not that the rest of the command structure’s much better. We have a Vulcan with all the warmth of an android, that purple-haired Nova Roman who was court-martialed for cowardice but somehow managed to talk herself into a cushy job here, the Black Cat Security Chief, the bug-eating iguana posing as a Science Officer- I mean, they can’t bother to include even one normal human being in a senior position...”

His words trailed away as he, and the rest of the Support Crew, noticed how much attention his vitriol had drawn from the larger group in the room, conversations shutting down as everyone stared in their direction.

But it was Dylan who took the lead, pulling himself from Kevin’s arm to draw right up to Dellaport, his face taut and indignant. “Remind us again of how many decades you’ve served in Starfleet? How many ships you’ve commanded? How many battles you’ve fought, how many lives you’ve saved?”

As his response drew vocal support from the rest of the room, he raised his ire at him. “You jerks have got some nerve coming out here after only a few weeks’ training, and think you can pass judgement on men like Captain Hrelle!”

“Whoa!” Alison objected. “He doesn’t speak for the rest of us!”

Dellaport stuck out his chin, facing Dylan directly. “I have a right to my opinion! It’s one of the things we’re out here fighting to protect, isn’t it?”

“Opinions as rancid as yours should be put in the recycler! And you with them!” Dylan snarled, hands balling into fists, tensing-

“Please.”

All attention turned to Gyver as he rose to his hooves, folding his three-fingered hands into the billowy sleeves of his off-duty robes, his voice as low-key and gentle as ever... but somehow capturing the attention of everyone in the room. “Please, Dylan... all of you... I ask that you forgive my friend for his words. They are not driven by genuine animosity, but fear.”

“I’m not afraid!” Dellaport denied sharply, his face reddening. “Stay out of this, Timbrel, it’s none of your damn business!”

The Paladelian remained calm and collected, however, looking out to the rest of the group. “None of us within the Support Crew have your estimable experience in dealing with the stresses of our great responsibilities... nor the estimable honour of working with the brave, resourceful senior officers commanding us. But with your patience and understanding, we will learn, and we will be all the better for it.” He bowed slightly. “Thank You, and Bless You.”

His speech seemed to mollify the others, though the incident as a while seemed to have put the dampeners on the party atmosphere, as people started to depart in twos and threes. Dylan shot a final withering look at Dellaport, before turning back to Kevin. “It’s late, I should go-”

“What?” the Gorn made a sound. “No, Mate, you don’t have to-”

“I’m on Morning Shift tomorrow anyway. We’ll get together another time, okay?”

 Kevin looked ready to protest further, before holding up his hands in defeat. “Yeah, sssure, Ssstud. G’Night.” As Dylan walked away, Kevin turned back to Dellaport, hissing, “Bloody wanker.” Then he departed as well.

Alison looked to her fellow human as she rose. “If I pretend not to know you for the next couple of days, don’t take it personally.”

Hylore picked up her helmet and her food, her round black filmy eyes fixed on Dellaport. “I spend ninety percent of my time onboard trapped inside this suit in order to live and work around you full air breathers. I wanted to sit here and enjoy myself, that’s all. I’m just glad I’ve met enough humans to know you’re the exception rather than the norm.” She rose. “I’ll be filing another complaint with Lt Bellator.”

“Me, too,” Alison confirmed.

Both women left.

Malala rose and turned to Dellaport now, clearly conflicted by the animosity among her friends. “Val... it must have been so horrifying for you, being there in San Francisco when the Breen attacked, seeing people die, being so scared... I understand what you’re going through. So would many people onboard... including Captain Hrelle. You should talk to him about it during your One-To-One. He’d understand, he’s very kind and patient and-”

He finished his beer and set it down noisily on the table, interrupting her. “Tell me, Mal, are you going to be screwing him while his wife’s back on Catworld? I suppose it’s one way to get someone to want to have you around.”

She turned an even darker shade of grey, before turning and storming out.

Then Dellaport slumped down into a vacated chair at the table and half-looked at Gyver. “Well? Have you got some fortune cookie wisdom to impart to me?”

The equinoid set down his water container. “I do not know what a ‘fortune cookie’ is. But if it is wisdom you seek: a mind, like a bottle, is only as good as what is put into it.”

Dellaport waved him off. “And there’s the fortune cookie. Gallop away with everyone else, Black Beauty.”

Gyver rose and regarded him silently, long enough to recapture Dellaport’s attention, before concluding with, “You are better than this angry, frightened child you show to everyone around you.”

Then he left.

Dellaport sat alone at the table.

*

Hrelle sat alone in his quarters, able to sift through the lingering layers of scent and discern history: a long period, years, when he and his family had lived, loved, slept, eaten, worked and played in here... the scents had abated somewhat in the last few months, but they were still here. He had been grateful that during his and his family’s absence, T’Varik and C’Rash chose to remain their own quarters, and that Commander Murphy had graciously agreed to take one of the VIP suites during his stay onboard.

He rose and moved around the room, looking under and behind couches and beds, finding clothing and heavily-chewed furry toys from Misha – Mother’s Cubs, how did he possibly manage to stuff his Captain Fuzzybutt doll down there? – and gathering them to throw together onto his own bed. He went into the Cubs’ Room and found some blankets in Sreen’s crib that had her scent and took them as well.

What he wanted from Kami was already in their own bedroom, piling it all in onto the bed with the rest, relaxing a little more as he finally collapsed. He closed his eyes and breathed in, imagining it was one of those nights when everyone would sleep together, Kami would tell them stories about when she was a cub their age, Misha would curl up into the crook of his father’s arm and fall asleep, and Sreen would babble-sing.

He picked up Captain Fuzzybutt, remembering when he had first purchased it, so long ago, for when Sasha was Misha’s age and he’d given it to her to think of him when he was away. It had been Sasha’s most precious toy... but she had gladly bequeathed it to Misha years later after he had been born, and he had kept it with him when his father wasn’t around. Now, ironically, Hrelle had it, to remember his family.

“Computer,” he spoke aloud, clutching one of his wife’s fur brushes, drawing it close and smelling it. “Can I finally make that call to Cait?”

“Negative; the local subspace relay network is still under maintenance and replacement.”

He closed his eyes. He’d get through this. Of course he would. “Lights out.”

*

Kitirik was perusing the previous shift’s reports, as per protocol, when Ensign Dassene spoke up from the Ops station behind him, “Lieutenant, may I ask you a personal question?”

The young reptoid allowed himself a slight smile, never looking up from the PADD in his webbed hands. As a junior officer on the Surefoot, he was of course part of the rota of those who acted as Bridge Officer. And he enjoyed it. Especially the so-called ‘Late Shift’ from Midnight to 0800 Hours, when the majority of the crew was asleep.

It did not of course guarantee that such shifts were likely to be any more or less free of incident than the other two – the Galaxy and all of its inhabitants did not run on the same circadian rhythm – but generally, it afforded him free time to catch up on scientific qualifications and news.

And to assist and interact with others, such as the members of the latest Alpha Squad, now manning the Bridge stations. “Of course, Respected Colleague. Answers are not necessarily assured, however.”

“Understood, Sir.” He heard the amusement in the Orion woman’s voice. “What was it like, meeting Captain Hrelle for the first time?”

Kit’s smile broadened, and he set aside his PADD and rose to his feet, noting how the others on the Bridge – Astrid Michel at the Helm, Urad Kaldron at Tactical, Tori Emoto at Engineering, Stalac at Sciences – were attentive, awaiting his response; even the Horta Stalac looked as curious as a lump of silicon-based fibrous rock could be. “I first met the Most Respected Captain Hrelle seven years ago, on the previous Surefoot, an Oberth-class supply vessel.

My fellow cadets and I had been part of the Academy’s Advanced Work Experience program when it began, and many were excited and curious about him, as he had not long been released from years of captivity with the Orions. We had assembled in the Main Cargo Bay for his Welcoming Address, when the then-Cadet Giles Arrington made an insulting joke about the Captain.”

“Lieutenant Arrington insulted the Captain?” Astrid asked, sounding shocked. “He’s one of Captain’s biggest defenders!”

Kit nodded. “Indeed he is... now. At the time, however, he had been more under the influence of his family, who wrongly believed the Most Respected Captain of treason and criminal activity. He had of course been wrong... and had underestimated the sensory capabilities of Caitians. The Captain had heard his remark, and ordered Best Friend Giles to join him at the front of the group... and to sit on the first step of the dais for the duration of the Welcoming Address.”

Tori guffawed. “He put Lt Arrington on a fricking Naughty Step? Like he was Misha?”

Kit nodded again. “At the time I was most confused by what seemed to be an unconventional and demeaning response on his part, certainly not one that would be found in Starfleet Regulations... until it was pointed out that, had he followed Regulations, Best Friend Giles would have received a note on his permanent record for disrespect to a superior officer, an outcome with much longer-lasting effects than the momentary humiliation of sitting on the Naughty Step.

It was the start of an enlightening and rewarding relationship with the Most Respected-”

He stopped as an Alert sounded on the Ops board, and Zir stooped to read it. “Sir, we’re picking up an automated distress signal from a civilian vessel!”

He nodded. “Alert Captain Hrelle, please, and then hail the vessel. Helm, Tactical, please access the signal and collect the required information for you to proceed with your duties should we be called to respond. Engineering, alert the Chief and inform him we may be jumping to high warp-” He looked to Zir, noting an unexpected reaction on her face. ”What is it, Ensign?”

Her olive-skinned face had darkened. “It’s our Command Status board, Sir. It’s been updated...”

*

On the front path of the Shall Clanlands, a group of about twenty or more Ferasans had swarmed together, launching themselves like a wave at Hrelle, roaring at the top of their lungs.

He dropped his sword and reached up behind him for the next weapon from his backpack, bracing himself as he gripped it with both paws and-

A wide tongue of flame shot out from the nozzle, snaking forth and engulfing the Ferasans at the front of the swarm, igniting fur and fire and leather armour, the shock of the intense assault killing them almost instantly.

They were the lucky ones.

They fell, the others toppling over them or each other in their efforts to evade the inferno Hrelle offered them, their screams almost drowned out by the roar of the flames. Mercilessly he swept the flame across them in a wide arc, ignoring the collateral damage of the surrounding foliage. The grounds were lit up in orange-red, with silhouettes scrambling in vain to escape imminent death.

And the voice in his head... the Beast who had been reborn in the fires of the Occupation... screamed I AM THE GOD OF HELLFIRE – AND I BRING YOU-

“Commander T’Varik to Captain Hrelle: please report to the Bridge.”

Hrelle bolted upright, swinging out his arms at things that weren’t there, roaring at the lingering flashes of the nightmare. Then he gasped. The- The Ferasans at the Shall Clanhouse- Kami, his cubs in danger- He burned away the Enemy, heard them scream... could smell them even through his riot helmet... and he loved it...

“Commander T’Varik to Captain Hrelle: please report to the Bridge at once.”

“On- On my way.” The darkness was of little hindrance to one with infrared vision, as he jumped to his feet, grabbing his jacket on his way out, thankful he hadn’t undressed when he slumped into bed. He felt the ship alter course and increase warp speed, never stopping to ask for explanation, knowing he’d be there-

-Momentarily, approaching the Ops Station where T’Varik stood with C’Rash, Kit and Zir. “Report.”

The Vulcan turned to him, looking uncharacteristically distracted by.... something. Something in Hrelle’s paw. “Sir?”

He glanced down, realising he was still carrying Captain Fuzzybutt. He shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. “Never mind. Report.”

She nodded. “We have intercepted an automated distress signal from a private vessel, the Aquarius, in the adjacent Tandaran Sector. The ship has not responded to our hails, but we’ve received permission from Admiral Tattok to separate from the Task Force and respond; ETA is 4.4 hours.”

He nodded, looking around. “Any details about the cause of the distress signal?”

“A diagnostic report accompanied the signal: there was a critical theta radiation leak from their warp core.” She called up a diagram and datascroll of a recognised starship profile. “The Aquarius is a decommissioned Oberth-class surveyor sold to Zodiac Cruise Lines in 2370 and converted to a personal transport vessel and private yacht for hire. There is a crew of twelve, and according to the records obtained from the Interstellar Vessel Registry the ship is currently hosting a party of nine Betazoids from Tandara Prime.”

He made a sound. “Many off-world Betazoids have ended up refugees at nearby Tandara following the Dominion occupation of their homeworld. The numbers of potential casualties will be small, so we won’t need to wake up the crew for a Full Medical Alert. But the theta radiation may affect transporters.”

“I’ll alert the Shuttlebay Flight Teams to prepare the Shadowpaw and Firepaw.”

Hrelle nodded. “I’ll go over on the Shadowpaw, I know the Oberth design well enough from the previous Surefoot and-”

“Captain,” T’Varik faced him directly, her expression sober now. “When the Distress Signal was received, Lt Kitirik attempted to contact you first. That was when it was discovered that you had been removed from Active Duty.”

He tensed, not sure he heard right. “What? Why? On whose authority?”

“Counselor Auger’s. It was filed in the ship’s computer immediately after your rescheduled appointment last night.” She paused, adding, “I am assuming that you cancelled it. Again.”

“Because I don’t need to see a damn Counselor! Especially not after I’ve already been cleared by my own damn wife!” Outrage made his tail snap like a whip. “Get Doc Masterson or one of the others on our staff to me put back on Active Duty!”

“Regrettably they cannot, Sir – as you will know yourself. Only the Ship’s current Counselor has the authority to do so, short of an Appeal Board with a minimum of three independent-”

He cursed, turned and stormed off the Bridge, striding down the corridor, glad that it was the middle of the night and no one was around to see him... or get in his way. Who in the Seven Hells did this arrogant kussik think he was? Hrelle had been more than prepared to meet up with him later, tick all the requisite boxes and let them both go back to more important duties.

Clearly someone needed to understand how things worked on his ship.

He buzzed the doorchime outside of the quarters assigned to Auger. Seconds later, he repeated it, more forcefully, counting to five before announcing aloud, “Computer: Override Door Lock on Counselor Auger’s Quarters.”

“Unable to comply. Your present security status is insufficient.”

Hrelle roared, pounding his fist on the door. Where in the Seven Hells are you-

The door finally slid open, and a tall, muscular, dark-skinned human male in his late forties stood there in a robe. He was broad-shouldered, broad-nosed, with an iron-grey buzzcut that dipped down over a tall forehead in a widow’s peak, matching eyebrows and a neatly-trimmed goatee.

He didn’t look like any Counselor that Hrelle had encountered before; not just from having a body that seemed more suited to a drill instructor in the Starfleet Special Forces, but from his scent and demeanour, as he stood there, thick arms crossed as he replied in a deep, arrogant baritone, “What do you want?”

Hrelle drew back slightly, his fur bristling. “Counselor Auger, I’m-”

“I know who you are, Captain; I’ve seen your personnel file, even if I have not had the pleasure of meeting you int he flesh until now. I’ll ask again: what do you want? It’s 0300 Hours and I was fast asleep.”

Hrelle resisted the urge to bare his teeth. “You took me off Active Duty. Why?”

The human shrugged. “Because you missed two appointments with me.”

“I didn’t miss them, something came up and I rescheduled them!”

“Really?” Auger didn’t sound very convinced, turning and walking back deeper into his quarters.

Hrelle followed him inside, letting the door slide shut behind him. “Yes, really! When you’ve served on a starship long enough, you’ll understand that this sort of thing happens all the time!”

Auger grunted as he moved to a curved jug of water on a side table, pouring himself a glassful. “I’ve served on ships almost as long as you have, Captain. I know my job, I’ve dealt with many officers... and I know every trick in the book, including when someone is trying to avoid meeting with me.”

Hrelle bristled. He couldn’t believe this; here he was, back on duty, trying to resume his former life, and now he has to deal with some petty bureaucrat trying to mark his territory! “I’m not avoiding a meeting with you, it’s just not necessary.”

Auger faced him again, holding his glass. “Oh? And how do you figure that?”

“Because I was already cleared to return to duty!”

“By your wife.” He paused to drink. “Not the most unbiased of sources. And she had undergone her own traumas, I’m sure.”

Hrelle’s jaw tightened; this man was getting on his last nerve! Still struggling to control his temper, he continued with, “I understand why you might think that, Counselor, but-”

Auger smacked his lips. “Doctor.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s Doctor, as in Doctor Auger. I never liked the title of ‘Counselor’. It makes me sound all warm and fluffy.” His grey eyes fixed on Hrelle. “And I’m not either. I’m mean and cranky at the best of times, and especially in the middle of the night. Now, attend a meeting with me, and I’ll consider reinstating you.”

“No. I need you to do that now.”

Auger raised a frosted eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because there’s an Emergency! We’re responding to a distress signal!”

“Oh? Is it something your First Officer and crew can’t handle without you?”

Now he bared his teeth. “That’s not the point!”

“Oh? I think that actually is the point. If I contacted Commander T’Varik and asked her point blank if she could handle your distress call without your participation, would she say Yes or No?” He drank again. “I’m assuming Yes, since we haven’t gone to Red Alert. You seem like you have a very experienced, very capable crew here, Captain. They managed for many months without you, they can do so for a while longer.”

That was it. Hrelle stepped forward, into his quarters, growling. “Reinstate me now, or...”

But Auger stood his ground, looking completely unintimidated by Hrelle. “Or... what, Captain? You’re gonna throw me in the Brig? Or maybe just around the room? Try to put the Fear of God into me with that growl that I’m sure makes cadets and midshipmen wet themselves? Go on, put the cherry on top of this fine first impression you’re making, to the man who can keep you relieved of duty indefinitely.”

Hrelle froze, suddenly aware of how far he had let his anger take him. Feeling genuine remorse, he relaxed his posture and let the rage drain from him. What was he going to do to the man anyway? “I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m... not used to being out of control. Powerless.”

Auger relaxed his stance. Slightly. “Your psychiatric record tells a different story. Be at my office at 0900 Hours.”

“I can be there at 0600. Or even now.”

The human shrugged. “If you want. I still won’t be there until 0900 Hours; I need my beauty sleep.” Then he waved a brush-off gesture with his huge hand towards the door. “Miss this next one, and I won’t be available to see you until next month.”

Hrelle turned and departed, feeling thoroughly humiliated... because of his own actions. Was he really that wound up by what the man did, or was it the remaining side effects of Pheromone Withdrawal, not yet cleared by his suppression treatments? Or even residual trauma from his recent experiences? Was Auger right, about Kami not being unbiased enough to give a proper diagnosis of his mental state?

He stopped outside his quarters and tapped his combadge. “Hrelle to T’Varik: I’m remaining off Active Duty for the present. Carry on with the rescue mission as discussed.”

“Aye, Sir.” There was a pause, and then, “Sir, you are now restricted from actively participating in normal Starfleet duties. However, I have confirmed from your updated records that you now hold the honorary rank of Field Marshal with the Caitian Militia and Planetary Navy.”

He frowned to himself, remembering; the gesture was made in response to his efforts during the Occupation, though he remained a little embarrassed by it all. “Yes, and?”

“And, in that capacity, you can still accompany the Away Teams as a Qualified Observer... if you wish.”

Hrelle smiled; nice to know that Vulcan guile of hers could be put to good use. “Thank you, Commander, I do wish. Sorry, looks like you’ll be in charge for a little while longer.”

“Indeed. Clearly the bribe I gave Counselor Auger to relieve you of duty and let me resume command was a bargain.” She paused again. “That was of course a joke, Sir.”

“If you say so. Hrelle out.” He grunted as he returned to his quarters... aware once more of his cubs’ plush doll, still in his pocket. “Sorry, Captain, but I’m not taking you along. It’s going to be tough enough already trying to fit back into my exosuit.”

*

As it turned out, he could fit into it. Just about. If he stayed standing. It worked for him, though. Made him look more commanding.

Sitting down in the Shadowpaw wearing her own suit as part of the Away Team, Eydiir looked over her shoulder and up at him. “Is it safe remaining on your feet, Sir?”

“Hmm? Mother’s Cubs, yes! I’m a cat, after all. I have natural grace and balance-” The runabout lurched, making him shift sharply to the side and bang his helmet hard against the replicator unit, the impact ringing in his ears and making him wince. “Ensign! Are you looking to lose your field promotion?”

From the front, Astrid Michel never looked away from the cockpit window. “Sorry, Sir! I’m trying to avoid running through the pockets of theta radiation left by the Aquarius!”

Beside Eydiir, Dr Shyrik turned to look at him, her Andorian antennae pressing against the clearsteel visor of her helmet as if seeking escape. “And anyway, aren’t you currently relieved of duty, Captain, Sir? Unable to demote anyone?”

He leaned in closer to her. “I can still bite, Doctor.”

“Not through that helmet.”

“Clearly you’ve not seen me attack a buffet table.” Then he looked up, to see the Aquarius, and the distinctive design of the Oberth-class starship: the saucer section Primary Hull with its mounted warp nacelles, and the longer pylon Secondary Hull slung underneath and connected with gull-wing struts to the nacelles and retractable access shafts.

It was an old but sturdy design, still in official if limited Starfleet use even after over a century, though many like this one had been sold off to the private sector. “Any response to our hails at this distance, Ms Michel?”

“No, Sir, no response.”

“Sensor readings, Ensign Travers?”

Sitting beside Astrid, Assistant Security Chief Pamela Travers moved her gloved hands over the panel before her. “Two lifesigns detected in the Saucer, Decks 3 Fore Shuttlebay, but the readings aren’t as clear as I’d like, because of the radiation.”

Hrelle leaned in, tapping at an available panel to check the readings. “Heavy radiation from the Aft Engineering section, damage to the Secondary Hull, from what looks like an antimatter storage pod.” He nodded to himself. “A lot of the privatised Oberths had the torpedo and probe magazines in their Secondary Hulls replaced with cargo storage and additional antimatter fuel storage and recyclers, to extend their range and operational life.”

“Will it be safe for us?” Astrid asked.

“In the short term,” Shyrik answered. “In our suits. We’ll need to undergo decontamination procedures on our return. Hope no one is too self-conscious.”

“I’m not, not with this strapping body of mine.” Hrelle tapped the combadge unit on the outside of his suit. “Hrelle to Firepaw: Lt Shall, we’re detecting two survivors near the Shuttlebay, but I want to do a close-up sweep of the rest of the ship for others we can’t detect from out here. Dock at the airlock on Deck Three Port, we’ll take the airlock on Deck Three Starboard.”

His niece’s voice, and the amusement in it, was clear as it reached his and everyone else’s earpieces. “Excuse me, Field Marshal Hrelle, but I must remind you that I am in command of this Away Mission, and you have no authority to give orders. You’re merely an Observer.”

From her seat, Shyrik looked up again. “Told you.”

Hrelle ignored the jibe, growling to himself as he responded with, “Consider it a suggestion then, Lieutenant.”

“I’ll give it some consideration, Sir, thank you.” After a pause, he heard her add, “Ensign Michel, I have an idea: why don’t you dock at the airlock on Deck Three Starboard, while we dock at the airlock on Deck Three Port?”

“Excellent idea, Lieutenant, will proceed.” Then Astrid turned slightly in her chair to look back at Hrelle. “Uh, sorry, Sir. It is an excellent idea-”

“Eyes on the road, Ensign.” He heard his sheathed tail smack against the runabout hull. T’Varik has definitely turned his crew into a pack of smartasses in his absence.

*

They boarded easily enough from either side of the saucer section at the respective Deck Three airlocks, taking a standard sweep pattern through the various areas, Hrelle conscious of the increasing levels of theta radiation as they went aft, unnecessary confirmation of the cause of the accident.

They found bodies near Main Engineering: seared from exposure, twisted into poses like discarded dolls. Only a cursory examination was needed to confirm their deceased states, as the Away Teams stayed focused on finding potential survivors.

As they moved away from the functional sections, where the radiation levels ebbed, Hrelle also took note of the extensive modifications made to the Aquarius, to make it a pleasure craft: smaller crews’ quarters were combined into larger staterooms, and labs converted into various Holodecks and other recreational areas that would put a Galaxy-class vessel to shame. There was even still music playing here and there... barely heard over the continuing Red Alert klaxon overhead.

Then they started finding more bodies: young Betazoids in rich flowing clothes, or less, or nothing at all. Beaten. Stabbed. Strangled. Phasered. With a couple of the Aquarius crew also dead, and also looking responsible for killing the Betazoids.

Hrelle stopped at a workstation, accessed the controls and shut off the alarm. “Hrelle to Shall: we’ve found seven of the crew in Engineering, dead. It looks like they definitely had an accident transferring theta waste down to the transkinetic recyclers in the Secondary Hull. We found passengers, also dead, but from various forms of violence from the Aquarius crew.”

C’Rash’s voice contained none of the earlier jocularity. “Same here, Sir. Violence, or suicide... or extreme cardiac failure.”

Hrelle looked to the other members of his Away Team, Shyrik noting, “Hallucinations and mental degradation can be one of the side effects of theta radiation poisoning.”

Before he could respond, he heard Eydiir make a noise, and turned to see her kneeling beside an opened utility closet, running her tricorder at something inside. He drew up to her, peering inside to see the bloodied body of another Aquarius crewman, a pale-skinned, blonde human female, surrounded by containers of cleaning fluids and equipment like it was a nest, and a shard of glass from a black bottle still clutched in one hand. “Did she kill herself, or was she wounded elsewhere and came in here to die?”

Eydiir made another pensive sound. “Traces of glass in the wounds, the lack of other DNA present, and the blood splatter on the wall and the body, all suggests she opened her own carotid artery... after cutting her left forearm and using her own blood to write on the wall.”

He turned and saw it, a jagged scrawl that went progressively more erratic towards the end. A chill ran through him. “What does it say?”

The Capellan peered closer. “‘The Day of Judgment is at hand. Have mercy on my soul... and to Hell with all the others. Amen.’” She paused. “To die in here, alone...”

He looked to his crewmember again, knowing how the young Capellan’s own troubled past had brought her to the brink of self-harm, using a similar method. More quietly he asked, “Are you alright, Eydiir? If you wish to have someone else manage this-”

“Thank you, Sir, but no. My personal demons have learned to fear disturbing me when I am working.” She checked her tricorder again. “Captain... this woman did not have any theta poisoning.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“I’m only detecting residual theta particles in the air, here only after I opened the closet door.”

“What about viruses? Intoxicants, substances? Anything out of the ordinary?”

“Nothing, Sir. She has a typical meal in her stomach from approximately seven hours ago, and a birth control implant whose telemetry data indicates sexual activity after that. Her irrationality could be a natural pathology for this individual, missed from prior scans during her life, and triggered by witnessing events elsewhere on the ship.”

“Yes. It could be.” Hrelle didn’t try to hide his incredulity in his voice, as he rose and drew back to the rest of the party. “Nurse Eydiir, you and Ensign Michel prepare to take the body back with us for an autopsy, encased in styrolite. The rest of us need to join up with the Firepaw Away Team to rescue the survivors.” He reopened the channel. “Hrelle to Surefoot: Access the Aquarius’ computer logs, scan for any anomalies they might have encountered in the region or along their recorded flightpath.”

“Anomalies, Sir?” T’Varik asked.

“Other vessels, spatial interphases, gravimetric polywater phenomena... anything out of the ordinary. Build a timeline of the events that occurred here prior to the radiation accident. Hrelle to Lt Shall: have you located the survivors?”

“Yes, Sir! They’re in the Shuttlebay Control Booth! They won’t come out!”

“We’re on our way.”

They didn’t have to go far, before reuniting with the Firepaw Team outside the aforementioned section, C’Rash turning to Hrelle. “Captain, it’s two of the passengers, we’ve spoken to them through the intercom system, they refuse to come out, they think we’re the remaining Aquarius crew trying to kill them like the others. I’m trying to reason with them but perhaps you could have a go?”

“Sure.” He shifted his niece to one side, drew out his phaser, aimed and fired at the locking mechanism, letting the door slide open.

“I could have done that,” C’Rash groused.

“Then why didn’t you?” He stepped forward, peering into the narrow control booth to see two figures: a tall, teenage Betazoid male with the solid black irises and matching curly hair typical for his people, and an older human male with a gaunt, goateed chin, old-fashioned gold spectacles and bald head, wearing an expensive dark suit and carrying a large black valise in one hand. Both looked understandably unnerved.

Hrelle holstered his phaser again, holding up his gloved paws. “It’s okay, we’re here to help. We’re from the Starfleet vessel Surefoot. We answered the Aquarius’ distress signal.”

The Betazoid still looked anxious, glancing at his companion, who now appeared relieved as he patted the young man’s forearm reassuringly. “Thank God you arrived! You have no idea what we’ve been through!” He indicated the Betazoid. “This is Errim Veid, Son of the Second House, Holder of the Sacred Sceptre of Rixx, and heir to the Holy Keys of Betazed.”

“I want my mother,” Veid declared, looking and sounding afraid and pitiful, like someone a third his apparent age.

Hrelle looked to him, reminding himself that not everyone so young is as trained and capable of handling trauma as his Starfleet crew. “Don’t worry, son, we’ll get you home as quickly as we can.” He looked to the human. “And you are...?”

“Doctor Walter Heisenberg, Errim’s family’s personal physician.” He kept looking to Veid. “We need to get him back to his family on Tandara Prime, he’s experienced severe trauma, he’s very delicate.”

“We should go, Sir,” Shyrik suggested. “If they’re not in suits, with the radiation leak...”

He nodded in understanding. “Lieutenant, escort them to the Firepaw, we’ll head back in the Shadowpaw with the.... evidence we’ve found.”

*

T’Varik was continuing to collate the data from the Aquarius when a deep new voice sounded on the Bridge. “Commander, tell me it’s not true.”

The Vulcan straightened up and turned in place. “May I assist you, Counselor?”

Auger stood there, dressed in a snug-looking uniform with Medical Blue colours, his steely gaze fixed on her. “Tell me Hrelle didn’t disobey my directive to take him off Active Duty, in order to go on some Away Mission?”

“Rest assured I will not tell you that.”

His high forehead furrowed. “So the breakfast talk I overheard in the Officer’s Mess just now was wrong? Hrelle hasn’t actually left the ship?”

“The Captain has left the ship on an Away Mission... not in his capacity as a Starfleet officer, but as a representative of the Caitian Government, and therefore an Observer.”

Auger frowned now. “You’re serious?”

“Generally, yes.”

Now he crossed his arms, looking calculating. “And it never occurred to you to question this scheme of Hrelle’s to circumvent Starfleet Regulations?”

“No... as it was I who suggested it.”

“You?” His eyes widened, before he whistled in mock appreciation. “And did you conjure up this little act of deception in your capacity as a Starfleet officer, or as the woman who’s sleeping with Hrelle’s niece?”

T’Varik’s face tightened, before she countered with, “Please follow me, Counselor.”

“I prefer ‘Doctor’, actually.”

“One of you will follow me into the Captain’s Ready Room. I don’t care which.”

Auger made a sound as he complied, T’Varik waiting until she heard the door slide shut before turning to face him. “Doctor, allow me to be direct with you: Firstly, in future you will address our mutual Commanding Officer by his rank as well as his surname, especially in the presence of others. Regardless of his current duty status, Captain Hrelle deserves nothing less than the respect due him. Is that clear?”

The man grinned. “Well, well, I didn’t know Vulcans had nerves for me to get on-”

“I asked you a question, Doctor.”

Auger dropped his grin and breathed in, before nodding and replying amiably, “Yes, Ma’am. That’s clear.”

The Vulcan remained taut. “Secondly, in future you will be extremely cautious about suggesting in public that I commit acts of deception. Is that clear as well?”

He looked ready to make another pithy remark, but instead offered, “Yes, Ma’am. Is that all?”

“No. Thirdly, you will be equally cautious about making facetious remarks in public regarding my relationship with my lawfully-married partner.”

“This is quite a list, Commander, can I send for the rest of my breakfast?”

“Request denied. And fourthly, be advised that I will be filing a protest with Starfleet Medical regarding your actions in removing Captain Hrelle from Active Duty without first addressing it either with him or myself. You could potentially have placed this vessel, and those we serve, in jeopardy.”

“Really?”

Her gaze narrowed. “Are you doubting my word, Doctor?”

He crossed his arms. “Frankly, and with all due respect to you, Commander... yes. One of my ex-wives has been in Starfleet longer than me; she was even the CMO of the Enterprise-D for a while a couple of years ago. And Katherine always told me, ‘The strength of our service is that no one is indispensible’.

As for your protest to Starfleet Medical, you are of course free to do so... but you must know already that I broke no Regulations in not informing you or Captain Hrelle beforehand. I simply showed our esteemed Captain the same respect he showed me, by cancelling twice on our appointments, without contacting me first.” He smiled. “I’ve served on Galaxys, Excelsiors, Nebulas... some pretty important ships. Don’t I also deserve nothing less than the respect due me, as well? Even if I’m not as familiar and as beloved as my predecessor here?”

T’Varik narrowed her glare... and then softened it. “I will reconsider filing that protest, Doctor. But in future, you will not revoke any crewmember’s duty status without first informing Captain Hrelle or myself.

You have served on vessels with crews numbering in the many hundreds. The Surefoot’s crew numbers a mere sixty-three... but we are still as important as any of the Galaxys or Excelsiors or Nebulas – at least, if you ask those whose lives we have saved.

You are correct, in that no one is indispensible, but each and every one of us on the Surefoot is vital, our dynamic more intimate and interconnected than with a larger crew, and the unexpected loss of any of us can have impacts that are immediate and profound.”

Auger nodded in what appeared to be genuine consideration, before responding with, “Point taken, Commander. You’ve made me think.”

She folded her hands behind her back. “I am delighted to have introduced you to the concept. I suggest you make a habit of it.”

His mouth opened, his expression one of amused astonishment, as he finally chuckled softly. “Oh, Commander, I don’t think I’ve ever met a Vulcan like you before. Looks like I’m gonna have to watch myself in future.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That would undoubtedly be the wisest decision you have made since boarding.”

*

Back in the Firepaw with her Away Team and the Aquarius survivors, C’Rash surreptitiously opened a comlink in her suit to Uncle Esek in the Shadowpaw as both runabouts returned to the Surefoot. Then she turned to the survivors, slipping on her most diplomatic voice. “Mr Veid, I’m sorry for your loss, but we need to determine what happened onboard your ship. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”

The young Betazoid sat in his seat facing her, bent forward, unable to look up at her as he bit his fingers anxiously and glanced to his left at Heisenberg, who rested a reassuring hand on his charge’s leg as he took over. “Perhaps I can assist with that, Lieutenant? Errim remains deeply shaken by this tragedy.”

C’Rash nodded to the human. “Yes, thank you, Doctor, anything you can tell us would be most helpful. Why were you out so far from Tandara Prime? We’re awfully close to the frontlines in the Betazed Sector.”

Heisenberg nodded. “I know, Captain Trips on the Aquarius had warned us about that, but... this was meant to be Errim’s bachelor party. His family had hired the ship to take him and his friends to Risa and back...” His gaunt, lined face creased. “But we had hardly left the Tandaran system before everything went so tragically wrong.”

“But what exactly happened, Doctor?”

He looked at her with deep blue eyes. “The Aquarius crew had seemed... off... from the very start: irritable, short-tempered, exhibiting bouts of aggression and paranoia; as a physician I’m familiar with the signs, but I had attributed it to the symptoms of a crew whose employers had been working them too hard, for too long and with not enough pay or leave.

Then, yesterday, I had been called to assist when one of the crew stabbed the ship’s doctor...” He shook his head. “I couldn’t save her. And then everything seemed to erupt at once: fighting broke out all over the ship, Errim and his party were attacked, there was a horrible explosion in Engineering...” He reached out and squeezed Veid’s hand as the young man started weeping. “I found Errim, and I had to focus on keeping the both of us alive until help came.”

Inside C’Rash’s helmet, Hrelle’s voice whispered to her. “Why did they hide inside the Shuttlebay control booth? Why didn’t they take one of the escape pods located all over the ship?”

C’Rash kept her reaction hidden to what she heard, leaning forward as she asked, “I’m curious: why the control booth? Wouldn’t it have been safer to leave the ship entirely in one of the escape pods? They have automatic distress signals, navigation and propulsion, and food and supplies to last for days.”

Heisenberg nodded in agreement. “Fear, Lieutenant. Sheer naked fear. We didn’t know where we were out here; we could have been in enemy territory, or drifted into a cloud of the theta radiation pouring out of the ship, or even into a star! And as dangerous as it was remaining onboard, the unknown looked far deadlier. It seemed safer to stay onboard, maybe try to signal Starfleet for help, but... well, I’m a Doctor, not an Engineer.” He smiled faintly. “Thank Heavens you came along.”

She nodded diplomatically.

“He’s full of shit,” Hrelle declared in her ear. “He was too afraid to use an escape pod in case they were in hostile territory, but was still trying to signal for help? Does he still have that bag with him? The one he’s clung to like a cub on the teat throughout this ‘tragedy’?”

C’Rash’s gaze narrowed to the black valise sitting next to Heisenberg. “Excuse me, Doctor, but can I have a look inside your bag, please?”

That made Veid react in mild alarm – the weeping magically ceasing, C’Rash noted – before glancing at his companion... until the human squeezed his hand again.

“Is there a problem with my request, Doctor?” C’Rash persisted, narrating for the benefit of her uncle. “Why did Mr Veid react the way he just did?”

Heisenberg smiled. “This is my medical kit, Lieutenant. Just standard equipment, I can assure you.”

“Really? Then why bring it along?”

He shrugged. “Sentimental value. It was a graduation present, given to me before you were even born.”

“Would you open it, please? I’d like to confirm the contents.”

Veid was tensing further. “Walter-”

But Heisenberg waved him off, focusing on C’Rash. “Is all this really necessary, Lieutenant?”

“Watch yourself, Niece of Mine,” Hrelle cautioned in her ear.

She made a sound of assent... her paw resting idly, but unmistakably on her phaser holster. “It wasn’t a request, Doctor. People have died, violently in many instances, and an investigation is already underway. I won’t ask again.”

Now he chuckled, reaching for the valise and setting it on his lap. “Well, Errim, I guess we’ve been caught. Time to face the proverbial music.” He unlatched the valise.

C’Rash drew out her phaser at warp speed, aiming it from her hip in Heisenberg’s direction. “Slowly, Doctor!”

Veid reacted, as did several other members of the Away Team. But Heisenberg looked very casual for someone with a weapon trained on him at point blank range. He looked up at her, still smiling. “Easy, Lieutenant, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack; I hear Caitians are prone to cardiac failure.” Slowly he unlatched the valise, keeping it open as C’Rash reached in with her free paw and began withdrawing civilian medical equipment: tricorders, hypospray kits and other paraphernalia...

And then women’s silk and satin underwear. And what were unmistakably sex toys. And a small recorder-player that activated to display explicit visuals of naked and barely-clothed participants, including Veid, rolling around and rutting on plush pillows and rugs, back on the Aquarius.

“What is it?” Hrelle asked her.

“These look like... souvenirs...” She looked to Veid, who blushed and looked away. “Someone had a very good time on his bachelor party cruise before it all went to the Seven Hells.”

“Yes,” Heisenberg confirmed sheepishly. “Errim wanted keepsakes of his time away, things he didn’t want his mother or fiancée to see, and had asked me to hold onto him for safekeeping. As you can see, they’re all rather... embarrassing.” He started returning the items-

-Until she stopped him. “I’ll not judge.” She holstered her phaser again, reached out and took the valise from him, emptying the contents to the seat beside her, scanning each of them with her Security tricorder. Then she accessed Veid’s recorder-player and uploaded the data into her own device.

“Why are you doing that?” Veid asked, looking chagrined and outraged. “That’s private!”

“We may need to examine it as part of our investigation. Don’t worry, Mr Veid, we won’t tell your mother... or the next of kin of everyone on the recordings. Hardly the way they’d want to remember their dearly departed.” She switched off her outside mic to speak privately with Hrelle. “I’ve examined the bag’s contents: apart from the dirty stuff, there’s a standard medical kit, some emergency medicines, tranquilisers, antibiotics for whatever sexually-transmitted diseases the Poor Little Rich Betazoid might have picked up.”

“No hallucinogens? Psychosis-inducing drugs?”

“It seems standard commercial pharmaceuticals, but I’ll get it checked in Sickbay while the survivors get a fuller examination.” She paused and asked, “You buy the story, Sir?”

That the Aquarius crew just all went mad at once and committed mass murder? I can buy irritability, the odd act of mild violence you get from crews serving together for long periods without a break... but these weren’t front-line troops or Klingons in a blood feud; they ran a yacht for rich assholes. Something external must have driven them to these extremes... maybe the Betazoids themselves?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe there was a telepathic trigger? Betazoids can force-project thoughts and emotions onto others, sometimes while under the influence of illness or chemical or biological agents. I want a fresh Away Team returning to check on the bodies, as well as finish the work to lock down and scrub the theta leak. I don’t want the leak to spread into local space.”

She grunted. “And what will you be doing all this time?”

“Me? Don’t ask me, I’m just an Observer. Like you said, you’re in command of this Away Mission, it’s why you get the Big Money.”

C’Rash told him in explicit detail what he could do with the Big Money.

*

Bellator had been in their office, in the process of collating the collected data about the Aquarius disaster, when their doorchime rang. Bellator recalled the reason for the reminder, contemplated delaying the matter to another time, but then decided it had been ongoing for too long already. They considered remaining behind their desk, to add authority, and compensate for their own height... or lack of it-

No. Bellator rose and stepped around. “Enter.”

Valentin Dellaport entered, standing at attention... his formality ending there, the scowl on his face offering another indicator of his mood, as did his voice as he announced, “Crewman Dellaport, reporting as ordered, Ma’am.”

“‘Lieutenant’,” they corrected, matching his pose. “Not ‘Ma’am’ or ‘Sir’. You are aware why you have been summoned, Crewman?”

He offered a slight sneer. “Another complaint?”

“Multiple. Again. Of the six Support Crew we received, you alone produce more negative feedback than the other five combined... which isn’t as great an achievement as one might think, as the only complaints I have ever received about any of the others have all originated... from you.”

Dellaport’s face tightened. “I proffered only legitimate concerns about some of them.”

“That is arguable. Or rather, dismissible. You have numerous talents and considerable intelligence and potential, Crewman, but these are marred by your obstreperous nature and bigoted opinions, and under normal circumstances, you would never have been accepted into Enlisted Training, let alone graduated. But Starfleet’s numbers have been severely depleted by the War, and standards as well as training time have had to be lowered.

Still, there comes a point when even beggars should be choosers.”

The young man stiffened. “Permission to speak freely?”

They nodded.

“Lieutenant, the day Earth was attacked by the Breen, I signed up so that I could help protect my world from something like that happening again. But when I did, I stressed that I wanted to be assigned to one of the ships in Starfleet’s Earth Defence Force, among fellow Terrans. I have no connection with Betazed or Cait or Vulcan or any other world that isn’t mine, and I have no interest in risking my life to save them. And I never asked to be sent out here.”

“Few in Starfleet, whether officer or enlisted, are given such options,” Bellator replied. “We go where we are needed. Earth may be a significant part of the Federation, but it is not the Federation, and the actions we take out here, saving planets and people you have no personal connection or seeming empathy for, can only benefit your world.”

Dellaport swallowed. “Still, I would prefer to serve among people I can relate to... people I’m comfortable with. Perhaps it might be best for all concerned if I could be transferred to the Defence Force, while you obtain someone more willing and able to be out here?”

The Nova Roman officer regarded him. “Perhaps, Mr Dellaport... and having looked at your record, and seen the numerous rejected transfer requests you have already made, perhaps your subsequent behaviour and attitude onboard has been driven at least partly by that notion, to make yourself so unpopular that a transfer would be desirable by your commanders.

But that’s not what’s going to happen.”

He looked to them now. “Excuse me?”

They moved closer, glaring up at him, uncaring now of the advantage in height he had over them – because it didn’t matter; their authority made them the tallest one in the room. “No. What’s going to happen is that you’re going to return to your quarters, relieved of Active Duty, and remain there until further notice.

Meanwhile I will speak with Captain Hrelle and Commander T’Varik following the end of the current crisis, with the recommendation that you be dismissed from Starfleet with immediate effect and returned to Earth, as a civilian.”

Dellaport started, flushing quickly. “You- You can’t do that-”

“You’d be amazed at what I can do, Crewman; I even amaze myself sometimes.”

“B-But that’s not fair! I want to serve!”

“Yes... but on your own terms. That’s not how Duty works.” They looked at him and asked, “Do you wish to say anything at this time, Crewman?”

He stiffened, turning a shade of red Bellator would have thought possible in nature. “No, Lieutenant. Not a thing. Not a damn thing.”

They nodded curtly. “Then I guess we have nothing more to discuss. Dismissed.”

*

C’Rash remained close with the survivors after both Away Teams underwent decontamination procedures in the Shuttlebay, and they were taken to the Main Sickbay for an examination, while Uncle Esek accompanied the styrolite-cocooned body to Sickbay 2 for an autopsy.

She had hoped for someone to find something more from their guests... but Masterson finally approached her, his scent and expression telling her everything before he finally spoke. “They check out fine, Lieutenant. Mr Veid has residual traces of ambizine in his system; Dr Heisenberg confirmed he had administered a minimal dose to keep him calm during the outbreak.”

“What about his medical kit? Anything out of the ordinary there?”

He shook his head. “Commercial sedatives, stimulants, antibiotics, antivirals, autosutures, protoplasers...”

“Is Heisenberg genuine?”

“You mean a real sawbones?” Masterson nodded grudgingly. “I threw a few questions at him, kept it casual. He seems legit, though I expect you’ll be doing your own checks.”

“Damn right we will-”

“Excuse me, Lieutenant?”

The Caitian turned as Heisenberg, clutching his medical bag again along with Veid’s elbow, approached. “If you’re finally done with us here, we would like to rest for a couple of hours undisturbed.”

She almost argued the point, but could find no real reason to do so. After all, what if all her suspicions were nothing more than that? “Of course. But be advised that as part of our investigations we will need to ask more questions of both of you later.”

“Of course, Lieutenant, of course. We’ll do anything we can to help you bring closure to the families of those lost in this tragedy.”

*

She led them to the VIP Quarters, pointing out the facilities. “The sonic shower, sink, Three Seashells, and the replicator and entertainment centre are all clearly marked and available to answer any questions you might have on their use. For security reasons we can’t yet contact your people on Tandara Prime, but I promise you we will.”

Heisenberg smiled again, holding out his hand. “Thank you for everything, Lieutenant. No hard feelings about the incident on your shuttle.”

C’Rash bristled... but she knew she couldn’t potentially upset their guests without good cause, and offered her paw in reply.

Too late she felt him tense, felt the pinprick at the base of her paw. She stepped back, reached for her phaser, her combadge... even as her limbs were numbing at an incredible rate, and she was collapsing like a tower of cards...

*

Heisenberg caught her, grunting. “Help me get her into the bathroom.”

Veid stared as if phasered. “You... you killed her...”

He ground his teeth as he dragged the Starfleet officer. “Don’t be stupid, boy! Hurry, we don’t have much time!”

The Betazoid youth snapped out of it, though his assistance was ultimately minimal, but they managed to pour her into the shower stall, as Heisenberg removed her phaser and combadge, and switched on the sonic unit to Minimum. “That’ll help mask her bioreadings from their internal sensors.” He grabbed a hand towel and wiped his bald pate as he returned to his valise on the table, setting aside the towel and quickly unpacking his possessions, throwing aside the bachelor party souvenirs. “They’ll be here in under an hour.”

“What are you going to do?” Veid asked.

He ignored the youth as he set out his medicine kit... deactivating the miniature sensor blind and retrieving the objects hidden within.

The Betazoid was pacing slowly now, along one line towards the twin beds, before following the same line back, rubbing his hands together tightly. “This is crazy.”

Heisenberg dropped C’Rash’s combadge onto the table, passing his Exceiver unit over it to access the Security Chief’s security codes, before using them on the adjacent desktop computer, giving him unrestricted access to the internal schematics of the ship... and more.

“I don’t know why we have to be so secretive,” Veid muttered. “It was just an accident.”

“An accident involving illegal substances. An accident triggered because you and your scapegrace friends couldn’t follow simple instructions. Sit down.” He found the location of the Environmental Control Station, allowing a slight smile. “On this deck, and unoccupied at this time of morning, too. Dispersal will be much quicker if applied from a central source.”

“We should have taken one of the escape pods, like that Caitian said,” the Betazoid whined. “We could have been away without them ever knowing we had survived. You wasted our time trying to get one of their shuttles working.”

“An escape pod is slower than a shuttle, and automatically transmits a distress signal to attract attention, both wanted and unwanted. Please stop trying to think, Mr Veid, it’s not one of your strengths.” He examined the current ship’s manifest. “There’s a wider than typical racial mixture here for a ship this size: Vulcan, Caitian, Bajoran, Bolian, Trill... species I’ve never even heard of. But approximately 44% are baseline human. That’ll have to do.”

“I need something. I need to calm down.”

Heisenberg keyed in a few security codes of his own to prevent anyone from undoing what he intended to do. “Get yourself a nice mug of hot chocolate from the replicator. Maybe with some marshmallows-”

“I don’t want some damn hot chocolate! I’m not a child! I want some White Rabbit! Or Purple Haze!” He pointed to Heisenberg’s kit, moving towards it. “You’ve got them, right here-”

The human intercepted him, grabbing him by the wrist and twisting upwards, ice-blue eyes focused coldly on Veid. “You can’t afford anything I’ve still got.”

The Betazoid winced. “My mother-”

“-Is not here. And if she wants to keep her son out of prison, she’d better show her generosity when I get you back to Tandara.” He released his hold and returned to his goods, selecting several vials. “It’s already going to cost me a small fortune just to get away from the Fleeters.”

“But if you give them the Blue, they’ll go crazy, too! Try to kill us!”

He pocketed his diffuser and picked up the confiscated phaser, checking the settings. “Not necessarily. The interior volume and crew complement here is much larger here than on the Aquarius, so hopefully the effects will be less pronounced. Also, Starfleet has a stricter psychological vetting process than the private sector, so there’s less chance of the Blue triggering psychotic breaks, just mild hallucinations or stupefaction.” 

He picked up several coloured vials, holding them up to the light to reflect the azure anaerobic liquid within. “What happens to them after we’re collected, well... that’s up to the Syndicate.”

*

On the Bridge, Bellator announced, “The Longpaw has launched for the Aquarius, Commander.”

“Hail them.” As the viewscreen altered to show Lt Arrington, with the Klingon Dr Kline, Eydiir, and the personnel in the rear, T’Varik focused on the young human in the pilot’s seat. “Lieutenant, your main objectives as Away Team Commander are to ensure the theta leaks on the Aquarius are shut down and internal decontamination procedures are initiated, and that the bodies of the crew and passengers are collected and placed in Stasis for when the vessel is eventually remote-launched back to Tandara Prime.”

“Understood, Commander.”

“I am aware that the likes of Ensigns Stalac and Kaldron, and Crewman O’Neill, are more resistant to radiation than most humanoids, but still, the health and safety of yourself and your Team is a priority. If you contract a lethal dose of theta poisoning and die as a result of carelessness on your part, it will have an adverse effect on your future career track.”

He grinned. “Then I’d better not be careless, Ma’am.”

She nodded. “Return safely, and soon, Giles, all of you. Surefoot out.” As the viewscreen returned to the usual starfield, T’Varik turned to face Ops. “Lieutenant, what-” She paused and asked, “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

Bellator blinked, looking ready to question something, before seemingly thinking better of it. “Uh, no, Ma’am. Dr Shyrik is continuing the autopsy on the Aquarius crewmember’s body they brought back. Captain Hrelle is observing this... but his revised appointment with Dr Auger is imminent, and I didn’t want to, uh, presume to remind him-”

T’Varik nodded in understanding, glancing at the Bridge chronometer as she touched her combadge. “T’Varik to Hrelle: your appointment with Dr Auger is commencing in 2.3 minutes.”

The familiar voice carried over the comlink. “Ahh. Well, maybe I could get it rescheduled-”

“Captain, if you do not leave immediately for your appointment, I will send a Security team to escort you there.”

There was a pause, and then a response, “Yes, Mama. Hrelle out.”

*

“Yes, Mama. Hrelle out.” In the Isochamber of Sickbay 2, Hrelle shrugged. “Well, there goes my morning down the crapper.”

Shyrik smiled as she hunched over the body, taking virtual as well as actual samples of blood and tissue as non-intrusively as possible. “Might be for the best, Captain. I’m not finding much yet to point to a cause for the behaviour of this young woman- what was her name again?”

Hrelle glanced at the PADD. “Aquarius Navigator Lucy Diamond.”

“Yes, Ms Diamond...” Her antennae dipped as she paused. “Although...”

Hrelle was departing from the Isochamber, but now stopped. “Yes?”

The Andorian looked up at a viewscreen detailing a microscopic analysis of a fluid sample. “Ms Diamond’s birth control implant was activated in the hours before her death. The model she had inside her has a sensor device to detect potential sexually-transmitted diseases, and take samples for possible analysis. It might shed some light on the state of her biochemistry then as opposed to now...” She looked up at him. “Do you really want your First Officer to send a Security escort, Captain, Sir?”

Hrelle took the hint.

*

Heisenberg used the security settings from C’Rash’s combadge to override the lock on the door to the guest quarters, and mask his departure out and down the corridor to Environmental Control, relieved to find it unoccupied, as detailed by the security systems and shift schedules. The system itself, once the security firewalls were brought down, was straightforward... and the overrides provided by his Exceiver, an expensive but highly-purposive piece of hacking equipment from the Syndicate, did the rest.

He added the content of the vials and programmed the system for an immediate shipwide dispersal with the exception of the VIP Quarters, before returning... finding Veid about to inject himself.

Heisenberg reached him before he could complete the action, twisting the hypospray away and confiscating it. “You damn fool!” He shoved the youth aside. “I need you conscious for the pickup!”

Veid’s hands were shaking. “Please, Walter! I need something! I can’t wait for your friends to get here! Whatever it costs, my mother will pay double! I can’t hold it together much longer!”

Heisenberg stared at him for a moment longer, before pointing to the bed. “I believe you. Lie down.”

Gratefully, eagerly, the Betazoid complied, making himself comfortable as the Terran returned to his valise, preparing another shot, before joining Veid at the bed, quickly injecting him in the neck.

Veid made a sound almost like a cat purrying, offering a little smile. “Thank you, Walter, I knew I could count on you. So what did you give me? Ambizine? Sonambutril?”

Heisenberg stepped back. “Cyalodin.”

The youth frowned. “Wha- W-Wait-” He tried to sit up, his face turning a sickly lavender hue as he reached up to his throat, gasping for air.

As if in response, C’Rash’s combadge chirped. “Ensign Thykrill to Lt Shall: Please respond.”

The doctor returned to his kit, packing up. “Try not to waste your final moments wondering why, Mr Veid. Suffice it to say that you made yourself more trouble than you’re worth.”

Veid was croaking hoarsely now like a fish out of water, reaching upwards in a futile gesture.

The combadge repeated, “Ensign Thykrill to Lt Shall: Please respond.”

Heisenberg ignored the dying youth and checked his chronometer: Twenty-six minutes until the rendezvous.

Now the overhead intercom butted in. “Bridge to Lt Shall: Respond.”

He checked the phaser again. They were moving faster than expected. Fortunately he had contingencies in place.

*

The first victim was Medical Crewman Toby Griffiths, sitting in the Enlisted Mess Hall, having worked himself into a sweat in the Gym, and was now determined to reward himself with a big breakfast of sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, baked beans, fried mushrooms and golden-brown toast.

The toast grew legs and scittered out of his reach.

He reached for other pieces of his Big Breakfast, but they kept escaping him, rolling or snaking or hopping away from him. Even when he picked up his fork and began stabbing at them, he ended up striking at the tabletop.

“Hey!” he shouted at them. “Get back here! I’m starving!”

Toby looked around, about to ask for help in rounding up his truculent food, but people were busy falling asleep, or having problem with their own meals. Or the bugs on the walls.

Or the walls that were now eating the bugs.

And the bugs that were now eating the walls.

*

In the Security Suite, Ensign Thykrill was double-checking the requisition reports for new phaser modules when an Alert flashed onscreen. The young Andorian female sat up, checked the readings. Security Crewman Graeme Wilder, sitting across from her in C’Rash’s office, looked up from his PADD. “What’s up? The Captain try to override the dietary blocks on the replicators again?”

Thykrill never looked up from the screen, her antennae dipping. “Lt Shall was with the Aquarius survivors in the Guest Quarters. Now she’s in Environmental Control... changing the security settings.”

Wilder wiped the sweat from his forehead, flicking back his charcoal hair as he looked up and around. “Why is she making it so hot?”

“It’s not hot.” She tapped her combadge. “Ensign Thykrill to Lt Shall: Please respond.”

The human was sitting up now, tugging at the collar of his uniform, breathing more rapidly. “Seriously, Ati? It’s not boiling for you?”

“It’s always too warm when it’s not Andor,” she muttered, repeated, “Ensign Thykrill to Lt Shall: Please respond.” She rose to her feet. “Ensign Thykrill to Bridge: Lt Shall has set up Security firewalls in Environmental Control, and she is not responding to my hails.”

There was a pause, and Thykrill imagined them trying to reach the Chief of Security themselves, despite her already telling them she tried that without success, before Bellator’s voice replied, “Proceed with a Security Team to the Guest Quarters.”

“Acknowledged, Thykrill out.” She moved to the door... pausing as Wilder continued to sit there, panting. “Come on! What’s wrong with you?”

Wilder was shuddering, his mouth and eyes wide open, gasping like a fish out of water. “H-Hot-Hot-H-H-HELP!”

*

Valentin Dellaport lay in his bunk, his back to the rest of the Support Crew.

Nearby, Malala Jain was trying to focus on completing another optional course, Hylore Waro was assisting, Gyver Timbrel was on the floor, cross-legged and meditating, and Alison Pagan was at the other desk, working on another article for the Federation News.

But Malala kept stopping and turning in her seat to look at the silent, sullen human and ask something. “Val, would you like some breakfast? You didn’t eat anything.”

Dellaport didn’t respond.

Hylore tapped the desktop, her black eyes wide inside her water-filled helmet. “Come on, Malala, stay focused, there’s a time limit on taking this test.” She made a sound barely translated through her voder. “Don’t know why you’d be so interested in Hazardous Materials Storage anyway.”

The Malurian sighed wistfully at her companion and faced the desktop screen again. “If I can pass it, I can take on additional handling duties in the Cargo Bays.”

“Your ambition to better serve others does you credit, Mal,” Gyver said encouragingly.

Malala grinned, wiping sweat from her grey forehead. “Thanks, Gyve.” Then she frowned at the screen. “‘What is the chief safety hazard to remember when storing barrels of quaratum thrusters pack fuel?’” She looked to Hylore.

The Argoan shrugged. “I’m not supposed to actually give you the answers.”

The petite Support Crew leader looked to Alison, who grinned and shook her head, looking a little flush. “Not my expertise.” She pointed her stylus at Dellaport’s back. “Why not ask Mr Motormouth? If you can get a word in edgewise, that is?”

Dellaport still didn’t react.

“Jeez, Valentin, keep it down,” Alison teased, shaking her head. “Lucky Kev, he gets to go over to that ghost ship. The party atmosphere there will be lighter than in here.”

“Please, Alison,” Gyver chided gently. “Lives were tragically lost on the Aquarius, and jokes are not appropriate. And please do not tease Valentin; the news about his discharge from Starfleet must be difficult to bear.”

Now Dellaport turned in place, glaring indignantly over at the Paladelian, sweat beading down heavily. “I don’t need you to defend me!” He looked to the rest. “It’s all your fault! Making complaints against me!”

Now Alison scowled. “Really? And what about all the complaints you made about the rest of us, you little prick? And all we ever did was try to keep you out of trouble!”

He sat up, swinging his legs out from his bunk, anger creasing his pink face. “You did this to me! You’re in league with them! These Aliens!”

“What? You’re crazy!”

“Guys,” Malala urged, looking nervous. “Calm down, please, there’s no need to get hysterical-”

But Dellaport didn’t seem to hear her, his eyes manic. “They’re going to wipe us out! Burn our world! And you’re with them! YOU’RE ONE OF THEM!”

“Val!” Alison shouted back. “Calm the frick down!”

Malala rose, reaching for him, her voice low and measured, “It’s okay, Val-”

But he lifted up a PADD from his bunk and swung out.

Alison shoved Malala aside to keep her from being hit.

The corner of the PADD connected with the corner of Hylore’s helmet, smashing the hydrographite visor and sending pieces and liquid flying.

The Argoan crewmember collapsed from her chair, the oxygenated liquid pumping out from her suit onto the carpet, as she desperately tried to cover the hole, coughing and sputtering as she tried to breathe.

The rest of the Support Crew reacted in panic, Dellaport looking like he was light years away, drowning in panic as he staggered over the others and went out the door into the corridor.

Malala rushed to Hylore. “Ali! Gyve! Get Hy’s bed open!”

But Alison was falling backwards. Eyes wide open in alarm, seeing things, falling over chairs and onto the floor beside her, crying out as she swatted at nothing.

“What’s going on?” Malala exclaimed, looking around, appearing confused now.

“I do not know,” Gyver admitted, “Quickly! Hylore needs our help!”

The Malurian nodded distantly and reached for her fallen friend, as Gyver moved to Hylore’s bunk, retracting the top to reveal the deep pool of sleeping water, kept continuously clean and oxygenated. “We have to- We have to get out- we’re trapped- trapped-”

Gyver helped Hylore into the water, before looking up at Malala again, the equinoid reaching out. “Mal, what is it?”

She didn’t seem to see or hear him now, curling herself into a tight ball. “Trapped trapped trapped trapped trapped...”

Gyver rose up to the wall intercom. “Crewman Timbrel to Sickbay: We have a Medical Emergency!”

He heard the sounds of chaos at the other end of the comlink.

He checked on Hylore again; she was floating on her back just below the surface, catching her breath again, with a few flecks of dark Argoan blood rising from cuts on her face. “Hylore, when you’ve recovered, retrieve your spare helmet and assist Malala and Alison, they are experiencing hallucinations. I have to go help Valentin.”

Hylore gave him an incredulous look, clear even underwater.

*

In Engineering, Chief David Sakai stepped out from his office, beaming at the Morning Shift as he strode by the manned workstations, ignoring the sweat beading on his face. “And how are we doing on this bright and sunny day, my friends? Ready for Adventure?” He turned to the Vulcan male at the Inertial Dampening Field board. “Mr Nalack! Would you care to split a pastrami on rye sub with me?”

The Assistant Chief Engineer straightened up, flinching. “Thank you, no, Chief. Beyond my vegetarian preferences, I would question the appropriateness of a submarine sandwich this early in the morning... unless of course this is the preamble to another practical joke of yours.”

Sakai grinned at him. “Oh? Have they stopped being funny to you?”

“Admittedly not, Chief... as they never started.”

The human started rubbing his chin in a gesture of profound thought. “I will get you to crack a smile, Mr Nalack, if it’s the last thing I do.” Then he frowned as an Alert appeared on Nalack’s station. “What’s that?”

The Vulcan looked. “What is what, Chief?”

Alarm rose on Sakai’s features as he drew closer. “My God! The IDS has had a Cascade Failure! If we go to warp, we’ll be ripped to pieces! I have to shut down the engines!” He reached out and keyed in his Engineering Override, nodding. “You’ve done it already, Nalack! Good work! I’ll go double check the secondary relays!”

Nalack stared at his station again as Sakai returned to his office, frowning in open bewilderment as he rechecked the readings. “There is no Cascade Failure. And I did not shut down the engines, it was a Security Override. Not even the Chief would instigate a practical joke on such a scale.” He reached for the controls.

And kept reaching.

And kept reaching.

And kept reaching.

Time seemed to dilate into a needle-thin compression, as his ears... his mind... filled with the sounds of the thoughts around him, from the dozens of beings surrounding him on the ship, their voices: systems Failure warp core breach fricking Cardassians are back gotta kill them kill them all why does he have to always be like that pastrami Gorn move total the particle energy of mass m, will product of a particle. A constant the square Surefoot TURNINGINSIDEOUT-

He dropped to his knees, illogically pressing his hands against his ears, as if it could keep out the cacophony of thoughts that invaded his mind, unbidden...

*

“Commander,” Bellator reported. “We are receiving reports of simultaneous incidents of irrational behaviour from Main Engineering, the Shuttlebay, both Mess Halls, Crew’s Quarters, Security-”

T’Varik rose from the Captain’s Chair and faced them, aware of a pressure behind her eyes. “Initiate Contagion Alert Three! All personnel to remain in their present locations, all doors locked, transporters shut down, security forcefields in place in all sections!”

The Red Alert strip glowed around the Bridge, the computer announcing the restrictions, and the klaxon filled the air, as Bellator’s hands moved over their controls. “A disease?”

“Undoubtedly. Contact the Longpaw, update Lt Arrington and order him and his party not to return here. And contact... Contact the Ajax, request their... their immediate assistance!”

Bellator looked up. “Why are you shouting, Commander?”

From the intercom, Captain Hrelle’s voice demanded, “Hrelle to Bridge: T’Varik, what’s happening? Report!”

T’Varik didn’t hear either officer: voices and emotions were flooding unbidden and unfettered into her mind, her mental abilities both expanded and stripped from her control. She was losing herself in the cacophony moving out from their present power extraordinary sabotage Environmental sweat humanoid C’Rash where are you where are you BELOVED-

She collapsed where she stood, even as Bellator stepped back from their console. They had started to move towards their Commanding Officer... except it wasn’t T’Varik anymore. It was Rilix, the Bridge Officer on their former posting the USS Korolev. He was lying there, dead from wounds. And they were back in the midst of the battle that had cost Bellator their old life, their honour.

Incredible: the Red Alert pounded in their ears, drowning out the shouts for action from the surviving members of the Bridge crew, as Bellator struggled to try and find their courage and recover control... never comprehending that their fingers pounded uselessly against a blank wall and not an Ops station.

Nearby, Kit had risen, examining the fallen Bridge crew, looking to Ensign Kaldron at Tactical. “Are you feeling ill, Respected Colleague?”

The huge pachydermoid glanced down at his massive hands. “I do not, Comrade. What is happening?”

“Bridge!” Hrelle demanded again. “Someone respond!”

Kit slapped his combadge. “Respected Captain, Lt Kitirik reporting! There appears to be an infection that has struck simultaneously throughout much of the ship, with most of the same symptoms as reported from the Aquarius! It only appears to be adversely affecting humanoids, albeit in different ways: Humans, Vulcans, Bajorans.” He drew up to Bellator, attempted to capture their attention, without success. “Are you and Doctor Auger well?”

“The Doctor is... stable, but incapacitated, but I don’t appear to be affected in any way. How can an infection spread so quickly?”

Kit moved to the Ops station, checking readings as he answered. “Moments before, Lt Bellator reported that Lt Shall – or perhaps just her Security clearance – was used to override the Environmental Control Station. Lt Shall was last known to be interrogating the Aquarius survivors, and she is not responding to our hails.”

The growl was audible over the intercom. “Sabotage. Send out a distress signal!”

Kit’s webbed hands moved quickly over the controls. “Respected Sir, the same Security overrides that have locked us out of Environmental Control have shut down propulsion, weapons and external communications!”

“Of course. Coordinate with anyone still functioning in Engineering to regain control, and do the same with Shyrik in Sickbay. I’m going to find C’Rash and the survivors.”

Kit frowned to himself. “Respected Captain, the Quarantine has shut doors and hatches everywhere, erected forcefields, transporter overrides! How will you be able to escape?”

“You leave that with me, Kit. You’re in command for now. Keep me posted. Hrelle out.”

*

Ten minutes before, Doctor Auger smiled at Hrelle. “Well, isn’t this nice?”

Hrelle kept his smile fixed. No, it isn’t, I’m here under protest. Let’s just get this over with. “If you say so, Doctor.” Still, as he breathed in, he could pick up the residual scent of Kami in her office – my wife’s office, Dr Usurper, not yours, and don’t you forget it – and he told himself that he could stay calm. “How long will this take?”

Auger shrugged. “How long is a piece of string?”

Hrelle blinked. “Twice the distance from the middle.”

The human regarded him, chuckling. “I’ve never heard that one. Are you familiar with many Terran idioms?”

The Caitian leaned back. “Well, I studied at Starfleet Academy on Earth, I worked with humans from Earth, I married a woman from Earth, helped raise a daughter from Earth, and I’ve read, watched and listened to many examples of art and culture from Earth. So.... probably not.”

“Sarcastic much, Captain?”

“Sarcastic? Me? Oh, nooooooo...”

Auger leaned back in his chair. “Captain Hrelle, I’m aware that many Starfleet Command Officers of a certain personality type are reluctant to open up to medical professionals in a Counselor capacity. But I’d expect a different attitude from you, given who you married. Even before that, though, she helped you recover from the many traumas you had experienced as a captive... and she’s kept you on an even keel ever since. Hasn’t she?”

Hrelle recognised his question as an attempt to appeal to his love for Kami, and win him over after their initial acrimony. On the other paw, he wasn’t wrong. “Yes. And I fully appreciate the value of Counseling... when it’s needed.”

“And you think it’s not needed with you?” Auger lifted up a PADD from the adjacent table, held it up without reading from it. “You spent months in hiding on your own world, in combat, you dealt with the attempted genocide of your people, injuries and threats of death to your family... you saw an entire city destroyed. You carried the burden of the liberation of your whole race. And with hardly a day of rest and recuperation, you went from that back to being onboard a ship, heading back into combat... and this time without your family for emotional support.

And you think that you, that anyone who would have gone through that, would not be feeling the psychological and emotional repercussions right now?”

Hrelle stared back, remembering the nightmare he’d had before the alert from the Aquarius. Remembering the feelings he’d been having before that, feeling as useless and as discarded as Captain Fuzzybutt.

“No,” he admitted finally, watching beads of sweat form on Auger’s dark skin, his own pulse quickening. “Of course we would. Anyone would. Denial is Delusion.”

Auger smiled in appreciation. “Quoting from the Counselor’s Handbook?”

“I’ve heard enough wisdom from it over the years. Maybe I should become one myself?”

The human grinned now. “From- From reading your record, from meeting various- various members of your crew, you’re already very...” He frowned at Hrelle.

Hrelle blinked, sensing the change in the mood... and the rise in temperature from Auger’s skin. “Are you feeling okay, Doctor?”

The human’s gaze seems to fix upon his hands. “Fascinating... Captain, I think I need to get to Sickbay.”

Hrelle frowned, leaning forward. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m experiencing... hallucinations. Very vivid, on a visual, aural and olfactoral level. I smell burning charcoal. Hear the rustle of leaves in the wind. Autumn in Vermont again, back home. Sublimely lovely.” His eyes grew deep, distant. “I’m losing- losing myself... dropping into the well... Captain, inform the doctors it- it resembles the symptoms from an ergoline alkaloid hallucinogen, but much- much more potent... psychosomatic reactions-”

He fell forward, Hrelle rising and catching him, gently easing him down to the carpet, as the Red Alert sounded, the computer announcing, “Contagion Alert Three – all personnel are to remain in their present locations until further notice.”

He smacked his combadge. “T’Varik, what’s happening? Report!” When there was no response, he tried, “Hrelle to Sickbay: Doctor Auger appears to be infected with the same virus as-”

Shyrik interrupted him. “I’m way ahead of you, Captain! It’s everywhere, and all at once! I’m currently trapped inside the Isochamber, while Masterson and the nurses are crouching behind a biobed, throwing equipment at something only they can see! I’m trying to contact the other Sickbays, and see if anyone else has avoided infection!”

Hrelle ground his teeth, opening a new channel. “Bridge! Someone respond!”

Finally Kit answered. “Respected Captain, Lt Kitirik reporting! There appears to be an infection that has struck simultaneously throughout much of the ship, with most of the same symptoms as reported from the Aquarius! It only appears to be adversely affecting humanoids, albeit in different ways: Humans, Vulcans, Bajorans. Mr Kaldron and myself are currently the only functioning Bridge crewmembers. Are you and Doctor Auger well?”

“The Doctor is... stable, but incapacitated, but I don’t appear to be affected in any way. How can an infection spread so quickly?”

“Moments before, Lt Bellator reported that Lt Shall – or perhaps just her Security clearance – was used to override the Environmental Control Station. Lt Shall was last known to be interrogating the Aquarius survivors, and she is not responding to our hails.”

His growl rose. If anything happened to his niece... “Sabotage. Send out a distress signal.”

Seconds later, Kit replied, “Respected Sir, the same Security overrides that have locked us out of Environmental Control have shut down propulsion, weapons and external communications!”

He grunted. “Of course. Coordinate with anyone still compos mentis in Engineering to regain control, and do the same with Shyrik in Sickbay. I’m going to find C’Rash and the survivors.”

“Respected Captain, the Quarantine has shut doors and hatches everywhere, erected forcefields, transporter overrides! How will you be able to escape?”

“You leave that with me, Kit. You’re in command for now. Keep me posted. Hrelle out.” He checked on Auger again, before going to the nearby cabinet and retrieving a spare medical tricorder and kit, thankful that Regulations required the equipment in every medical personnel’s office. He scanned Auger, detecting an unknown virus causing inflammation of the brain tissue. His temperature was rising.

“So,” noted Captain Fuzzybutt, peering down at the human from his perch on Hrelle’s right shoulder, tiny claws digging into the padded jacket, tiny chewed-up tail swishing. “What are you going to do?”

He opened the medical kit. “Well, I’d administer a metabolic stabiliser or general antiviral, but this kit is limited.” He rose to the replicator, activating it, confirming that the Quarantine measures limited its production to basic rations and water. “Bowl of ice water.” As the request materialised in the alcove, Hrelle retrieved a facecloth from the adjacent bathroom and returned to soak it in the bowl.

“Actually,” Fuzzybutt continued, the miniature figure’s tail swishing against the side of Hrelle’s face. “I was referring to what you were going to do to get your ship back, when you’re stuck in here with a sick man you hate.”

A chill ran through Hrelle as his paws lifted the soaked towel and wrung it dry. “I don’t hate him. He’s just doing his job.”

As he returned to Auger, kneeling down again and wrapping it across the human’s forehead, Fuzzybutt harrumphed. “You were ready to chew him up and spit him out last night.”

Hrelle smiled slightly. “I was ready to do the same to Kami when she first starting Counseling me.” He checked the tricorder readings. “His temperature’s dropping again.”

“You still haven’t told me what you’re going to do to get your ship back. You might be one of the few onboard unaffected by this virus, but you’re still stuck in here.”

“Am I?” Hrelle smirked, moving furniture aside to reveal a Jefferies Tube hatch.

Fuzzybutt hopped off of his shoulder and struggled with the lock, the diminutive figure finally stepping back. “See? The Quarantine protocols will have all the hatches secured. It’s impossible!”

Hrelle ignored him, lifting up the sensor wand from the medical kit’s tricorder, setting it on Maximum Sensitivity, and pressing it against the hatch lock. Seconds later, the hatch clicked open.

Hrelle switched off and pocketed the wand, glancing up at Fuzzybutt. “So much for what’s impossible. That’s why I’m a decorated Captain, and you’re just a chew toy for my teething cubs. Now come on, we have to get to the VIP Quarters.”

“The VIP Quarters? Why?”

“To get the answers from Heisenberg, the obvious cause of all this... and the potential cure, too.” Hrelle crawled inside the Jefferies Tube, feeling huge and bloated in the confined area. Damn his big-boned state; at least he was immune from this disease giving everyone else hallucinations and psychotic episodes.

*

“It’s Virotics,” Shyrik declared over the intercom moments later.

On the Bridge, Kitirik struggled to remain calm in the midst of the growing distress they faced, but grasped at this small nugget of information. “Yes, that explains much, Respected Doctor.”

Beside Kit, Kaldron, working to find countermeasures to the Security overrides, looked up, the pachydermoid’s round eyes narrowing. “Not to me, Comrade Lieutenant.”

“It is unfortunately a new criminal activity, Respected Colleague, popular among those who can afford it. It is a recreational activity that involves the sale, distribution and use of genetically-engineered viruses instead of pharmaceuticals, to produce feelings of euphoria, sedation, sexual stimulation or other effects for its users.

Virotics are genetically engineered not just for potency but a shortened lifespan of only several hours after being released from anaerobic stasis, quickly becoming unidentifiable inert material so as to limit contamination and detection... and potential reverse engineering from competitors if they obtain any active samples.”

*

Working his way downwards to the next deck, his pointed ear twitching as Captain Fuzzybutt’s tail flicked against it, Hrelle grunted as he listened to the exchange over his combadge. “I remember Virotics were still being developed by the Orion Syndicate when I was a captive, a business offshoot from the production of assassin viruses tailored to kill selected individuals with specified DNA patterns. The chief selling point of Virotics was their short lifespan, both as an infectious agent and as a detectable element in those who use them, unlike traditional narcotics.”

Shyrik frowned at her readings within the Isochamber. “And the chief danger with them, apart from the sheer idiocy of intentionally taking something you don’t have to just for thrills, is the effects that a virus might have on different races exposed to it. The Syndicate often employs doctors to deliver the Virotics, to administer and oversee their use at functions. And the doctors themselves will have immunity from their own filthy wares.”

She brought up a picture of the sample taken during the autopsy, sharing it with everyone who had viewscreens. “Because Virotics degrade so quickly, there’s typically no evidence that they’ve been used after a short time. But in the case of the Aquarius Navigator Diamond, she had sex with one of the Betazoids who had just been infected, and her birth control implant scanned the contaminated seminal fluid and encased one of the viruses.”

Now a DNA Helix appeared on the screen. “I’ve identified the Virotic that infected her, the Aquarius crew... and now us: Blue Sunshine, designed for races like Betazoids with strong paracortex and paratemporal lobes which govern their telepathic abilities, it’s meant to augment their abilities and produce a heightened gestalt, a shared waking dream experience.

But for races like Vulcans, it can make them lose control of their telepathic restraints, overloading them and triggering a self-protective comatose state, as we are now seeing with the likes of T’Varik. And for most other humanoids, Blue Sunshine can induce potent hallucinations, and in some cases elicit psychotic breaks and stimulate violent behaviour, towards themselves and others.”

Hrelle made a sound. “The human crew of the Aquarius were accidentally infected with this virus, causing the incidents of murder and suicide, and probably the theta leak accident, too. What about a treatment, Doctor?”

“I’m trying,” Shyrik snapped. “But I need active samples, and I can’t go out to retrieve them without getting infected myself!”

Hrelle crouched at another hatch, retrieving his improvised unlocking tool. “Lieutenant, how are we doing on the Security overrides? Anyone in Engineering able to assist?”

“No, Most Respected. I fear most of the uninfected Engineering personnel were off-duty when the Quarantine began, and are now trapped in their quarters.”

“Then begin a Level 5 Catastrophic Purge of the system to clear out the sabotage, Authorisation Hrelle One One Niner. And hurry.”

“Hurry, Sir?”

Hrelle swatted Fuzzybutt out of the way. “We’ve been disabled in preparation for a visit from whomever Heisenberg works for, most likely to collect him and leave before he can cooperate with the authorities and reveal any secrets... and probably destroy us.”

Kit nodded to himself. “No witnesses.”

“You need to work out more,” Fuzzybutt recommended to Hrelle.

“Shut up, you little bastard.”

“Respected Sir?” Kit enquired.

Hrelle shook his head... smiling as he now successfully released the hatch before him, mentally picturing his location on his ship. “Never mind, Lieutenant. Carry on.”

*

Val dodged the falling debris, crying out as the rubble from the crumbling city smashed down around him, assaulted by the disruptor bolts from the Breen attack ships overhead. He shouldn’t have been here! He was only in San Francisco because he was visiting relatives! And now he was going to die here!

He shoved aside panicked residents, trying to get to the nearest subway entrance. He had to get away! He couldn’t be caught out here when the Aliens inevitably transported in to finish what their ships had started!

He reached a hatch, dropped down and struggled to open it, pounding desperately on it. They couldn’t keep him locked out! They couldn’t!

There was an open tool box, sitting beside someone lying in the street. He reached in and lifted up a dynospanner, banging on the door. Come on! Come on! The city was crumbling around them!

“Valentin.”

He spun around, raising the tool. The aliens! The aliens were appearing now to finish him off. “Stay back!”

Gyver stood still, hands raised up passively, his voice soft. “Valentin, it’s Gyver Timbrel, your friend. We are on the Surefoot, not Earth.”

“No! You’re attacking us! Invading! Killing!” He raised the dynospanner higher, his heart racing, his head pounding. They were gonna kill everyone, or enslave them, or eat them!

The equinoid stepped forward, slowly. “No, Valentin. You are under the influence of some agent that is giving you waking nightmares. Others are under the same influence. You are not in danger, except from your own hallucinations.”

“STAY BACK!” Valentin felt himself hyperventilate. It must have been some sort of gas or energy weapon the aliens were using on humanity! “You- You want to kill me-”

“You need to calm down, Valentin, your heartbeat is dangerously high, and we do not have the medical facilities to help.”

“You’re the Enemy!”

“No,” Gyver insisted gently. “I’m your friend. We work together, eat together. I know you.”

“NO!”

“I know you, Valentin. I know you grew up in a place called Winnemac, Canada. I know your mothers are a painter and an aviation engineer. I know you enjoy hot spiced apple tea and music by someone named Vivaldi, and you are a most gifted diagnostician.”

“No! Stay back!” Val raised the dynospanner higher.

Gyver proceeded, kneeling down before the human, keeping his gaze focused. “I know that you were at San Francisco when the Breen attacked, and that you were trapped in the rubble of a collapsed building for three hours with the bodies of people you knew. I know you never felt so helpless before in your life, and not understanding why anyone would attack you, your world.”

The sweat was pouring from Val’s face, and he was shaking. “N-N-No... You... You can’t know...”

“I know, Valentin, because I’m your friend, and I listen to you. Even when you’re not saying anything. I see the man behind the anger, behind the fear.” He reached up, carefully grasping the dynospanner, drawing it from the human’s grip and setting it aside. “Now, pay attention to my voice. Whatever is influencing you now can be controlled by yourself, with my help. And you can control your heart. You can calm down.”

He took Val’s hands in his own. “Listen to my voice. Slow your breathing. You are safe. You are among friends.”

Val fought to listen over the din of the attack, the screams of the injured and dying. He should have fled, found a way to hide deeper, to get a weapon, to run run RUN

But he stayed where he was instead, and listened to the sound of the person that seemed to know him. “G-G-Gyver-”

“Yes, Valentin, that’s me. You are on the Surefoot, with your friends. You are safe. Just listen to the sound of my voice. Listen.”

Val listened. Tears streaming down his face. “I’m- I’m scared.”

Gyver held him now. “I know. But that’s okay. Your friends will take care of you...”

*

“Zir?”

Hrelle had emerged into the corridor to find the young Orion female crouching over something only she saw, her olive skin flushed and sweat-beaded... and a phaser in her hand.

He paused halfway out of the hatch, repeating more gently, “Zir?”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, agitated. “Captain? Stay back, out of sight! I’ll protect you!”

“She’s delusional,” Fuzzybutt declared in his ear. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

“Shush.” To Zir he replied, “Who are you protecting me from, Ensign?”

Her gaze shot down the corridor. “The Cardassians! They boarded again! They’re taking over the ship!”

Hrelle continued to climb out and towards her. “Give me the phaser, Ensign.”

Zir’s attention focused on him again, looking angry and anxious. “No, Sir! I have to protect you! Protect the ship!”

He held out his paw. “Ensign Dassene, I’m ordering you to hand over your weapon. You’ve never refused an order from me. I know I can count on you, always.”

She looked to him, unsure, hesitant.... but then complied. “Yes, Sir.”

“Now stun her,” Fuzzybutt suggested.

Hrelle ignored him, locking the phaser and drawing closer. “Ensign... Zir... you are under the influence of a virus. It’s making you see and feel things you wouldn’t normally do.”

She shook her head. “N-No- That’s not possible, Sir! I’m- I’m-”

“Zir,” he interrupted gently. “Do you remember when you were a prisoner of the Orion shipmaster Hazaak Sur? When he drugged you, to make you feel better about the situation you were in? You didn’t really feel that way, what he gave you made you feel that way. This is what’s happening now. The Cardassians have not come back-”

She shook her head more, and he could see the shame that came with that memory, and it broke his heart to have to invoke that now, for whatever reason. “N-NO! They’re- They’re here!”

“No, Zir, they’re not. I promise you. There is a genetically-engineered virus released into the ship’s air supply, making you and everyone else see hallucinations.”

“Not us, though,” Fuzzybutt noted.

Hrelle twitched his shoulder to make the imp fall off, focusing on his Ensign. “And I’ve never lied to you, have I?”

She swallowed, seemingly finding some confidence in that assurance. “No, Sir. You haven’t.”

He smiled. “Thank you for trusting me, Zir. Now, I have a mission for you: crawl through the Jefferies Tubes up to the Counselor’s Office and take care of Doctor Auger, he’s been incapacitated up there-”

“Guess again,” came the gruff voice from the hatch.

Hrelle and Zir turned to see Auger crawl unsteadily out, looking exhausted but better than when Hrelle last saw him, Hrelle commenting, “I wasn’t expecting you to be mobile, Doctor. You seemed quite out of it.”

The human wiped his brow with his broad hand. “I was, Captain. I still am, to be honest.” He glanced around. “Unless the floor actually is covered in leaves, and you’re really a bear trying to steal a picnic basket?”

“Oh, he’s definitely not working on all thrusters,” Fuzzybutt muttered in Hrelle’s ear.

The Caitian shook his head. “No leaves, Doctor, and no bear... though I wouldn’t turn down a picnic basket right now. At least my impromptu first aid helped cool you down and prevent any brain damage. Now, would you please watch over Ensign Dassene while I go deal with the one responsible for this mishigas?”

“No, Captain!” Zir objected. “I won’t let you go into danger alone! You’re the most important person on the ship!”

He looked at her and frowned. “Where’d you get that idiotic notion?”

“Sir?”

“I’m the least important. You, Doctor Auger, Commander T’Varik, everyone else onboard, you’re all more important than me. You’re all my Cubs – even old men like Dr Auger.”

“Thanks,” Auger muttered.

“And I’ve sworn to protect all of you, as much as I’ll protect the Federation. Because we are the Federation. This mad collection of beings from scores of worlds, banded together by common uniforms, common insignia... and most importantly, common ideals and principles.”

Fuzzybutt slow-clapped his speech, until Hrelle reached up and flicked him off of Hrelle’s shoulder.

“Stirring words, Captain,” Auger commented, “But it’s hardly a good example to set to a junior officer, going off on your own without backup. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, we’re still in the middle of a session. I need to evaluate you, and what better time than during a real crisis?”

Fuzzybutt hopped back onto Hrelle’s shoulder and whispered in his pointed ear, “Shoot him. Zir will back you up on it, she’s a good sport.”

Hrelle sighed. “Fine. Both of you come along... but stay behind me, for protection.”

“Yeah,” Fuzzybutt agreed. “You’re large enough to protect the entire crew.”

Hrelle reached up, grabbed the imp and roughly flung him away.

“Something wrong, Captain?” Auger asked, looking to him. “What are you grasping there?”

Hrelle caught himself. “Straws, Doctor. Let’s go.”

*

On advice from Shyrik, Kit used the Bridge’s medical kit to offer mild sedatives to those infected around him, stopping at T’Varik and examining her again, before tapping his combadge. “Kitirik to Dr Shyrik: the Most Respected First Officer remains in a catatonic state. I was wondering if a suppressant to her Vulcan paracortex lobes might allow her to return to consciousness and assist us.”

The Andorian’s voice was gruff, even for Shyrik. “No experimentation, Lieutenant, you don’t have the equipment or the expertise to deal with her if it goes wrong. You’re better off making the infected comfortable and safe.”

“Thank you, Respected Doctor. Kitirik out.” He looked up. “Mr Kaldron, how is your work progressing on my idea?”

The huge Hroch Ensign was hunched over Engineering, the tips of his massive fingers delicately moving over the command lists, as always the displays compensating for his particular needs. “Comrade Lieutenant, I believe your suspicion that we still retained control over the docking safety subsystems was correct, for what it is worth.”

“It may be worth much, Respected Colleague.” He programmed the desired sequence on a continuous loop, before announcing, “There: Docking Lights on Maximum. And hopefully Best Friend Giles will remember the Cryptography courses we took together.” 

He spared one last look at an insensate T’Varik, saying more softly, “I do not know if you can hear me, Most Respected Commander; the tricorder indicates a strong level of mental activity within you. I hope to justify your faith in me and restore the status quo as quickly as possible. Please excuse me.”

He rose, T’Varik not responding.

Her mind literally elsewhere.

*

Several decks down, in the sonic shower stall of the VIP Quarters assigned to Heisenberg and Veid, an unconscious C’Rash was being forcibly dragged from the darkness. C’Rash... you must revive...

The Caitian moaned, half-aware, imagining hearing her partner’s voice in the darkness, imagining they were in bed together in the middle of the night-

No, it’s an Emergency. The ship has been compromised. I’ve been disabled.

That alerted C’Rash’s awareness. Drugged! Heisenberg drugged me! Where are you?

On the Bridge, unable to return to a conscious state without being overwhelmed by the thoughts around me. But our psychic Bond remains active. We are all in danger, you must fight the drug you were given. The ship needs you. I need you, Beloved.

C’Rash grunted inwardly, forcing her eyes open, her whole body feeling suffused in syrup, sapped of all energy.

And yet she managed to raise an arm, extend the fingers on her paw and display her claws. She could do this. She could do this!

Yes, Beloved. Please, hurry, I haven’t much remaining... strength to... to keep this...

Oh, I’ll hurry, C’Rash promised as she lost the link with his wife, forcing herself to rise to all fours, teeth fully bared, feeling the waves of the sonic shower unit above, as if it was trying to lull her into remaining in a somnolent state. And when I’m through with Doctor Heisenberg, there won’t be enough drugs in his bag of tricks to make himself feel better.

*

On the Longpaw, attached to the Starboard Docking Port of the Aquarius, Giles returned to the runabout in response to an automated alert... thankful for the break in seeing the carnage onboard the Oberth-class vessel; even after all he had seen in battle, it was still disturbing. And is that a bad thing, Giles? Worry when you become inured to it all.

His exosuit creaked as he took the pilot’s seat again, his gloved hands moving over the controls as he looked out through the cockpit window... seeing the flashing lights from the direction of the Surefoot, like a pulsar.

He frowned, opening a channel. “Longpaw to Surefoot: what’s up with the lights?”

When there was no response, he tried several more times, his curiosity quickly escalating to concern, as he watched the flashes, seemingly random... until he saw a repeating pattern.

A quick command to the computer for analysis confirmed his suspicions.

Then he opened another channel. “Runabout Longpaw to Ajax. This is Lieutenant Giles Arrington. Come in, please.”

A welcome familiar female voice responded. “Giles? What’s wrong?”

Despite the situation, Giles couldn’t help smiling a little at the sound of Sasha’s voice, even as he piggybacked a data package of the recorded logs for the last day onto the audio transmission. “I think we have a situation here. We need you.”

Then on his Tactical panel, there was an alert on his long-range sensors to an unidentified vessel, approaching fast.

*

“Hrelle to Kitirik: are we ready to Purge?”

The reptoid emerged from within the Bridge Engineering station, surrounded by internal components. “Lieutenant Kitirik here, Respected Sir. I might be ready to commence the action now, though I must warn you it will have the effect of shutting down all ship systems for approximately ten minutes... including Life Support and the Quarantine protocols.”

“We can manage for several hours with Life Support down if necessary... and the Quarantine is pointless anyway: the infections are everywhere, they’ll burn out shortly, and we need to get uninfected personnel to key positions before company arrives. 

But I want you to deliver orders to the crew, immediately before the Purge, to report to their stations, arm themselves and see to the infected; I don’t want our guests to take any countermeasures.”

“Should we not direct available personnel to apprehend them?”

“No need, Kit, I’m on Deck 3, making my way to the VIP Quarters.”

Kit frowned. “How did you manage to breach-” Then he shook his head, moving to the Ops station. “Never mind, Most Respected, and Tenacious and Talented, Sir. I am readying now.”

“Good. I’ll need the distraction of the Purge; don’t call me, I’ll call you. Good luck, Captain Kitirik. Hrelle out.”

Kit blinked, glancing at Kaldron. “I hope I can be worthy of his trust.”

His companion in crisis looked back. “Comrade, if I may be so bold... I have served under you. You are worthy-” Then his attention returned to the Tactical board. “Our long-range sensors are still functioning. And they are reporting that there is an unidentified vessel approaching at high warp, from the direction of the Tandaran Sector. ETA 12 minutes.”

Kit’s heart raced. “Then the time for self-doubt has passed...”

*

On Deck 3, Hrelle gripped the phaser confiscated from Zir as he led the way, as Zir and Auger followed behind, the latter asking, “That young Lieutenant sounded nervous as Hell, Captain.”

The Caitian tried listening ahead of him. “What’s your point, Doctor?”

“My point is that maybe you should have headed straight to the Bridge to take over, and let Security manage this?”

“You should have just shot him, like I said,” Fuzzybutt reminded Hrelle.

Hrelle ignored his imp. “Taking command is hardly an option for me at the moment, Doctor; you removed me from Active Duty. And my Chief of Security is missing.”

“You mean your niece?”

He stopped and turned in place to catch and hold Auger’s eye. “I mean my Chief of Security. What I said before about all of you being under my protection includes her. And if I ask any of you to risk your lives, the least you’re owed is the confirmation that I’ll lead the way. Shall I give you another heroic speech?”

“Seven Hells, no,” Fuzzybutt replied, as Hrelle flicked him off his shoulder once more.

Auger, unaware of the imaginary interaction, smirked. “Another time, maybe. Consider yourelf back on Active Duty, by the way.”

Then all looked up as Kit’s voice sounded over the shipwide intercom. “Lieutenant Kitirik to Crew: Proximity Alert, General Quarters, Grey Mode Conditions, further orders to follow.”

Then the lights went out, replaced with the Emergency lighting dashes along the tops and bottoms of the corridor walls at regular intervals. Hrelle heard Auger and Zir react, but he shushed them gently, setting his phaser to Stun as he proceeded further, listening ahead.

In the far distance, he could hear crewmembers working the manual controls to their doors to leave from wherever they were, and make their way to their assigned stations, as per Kit’s succinct but sufficient orders, addressing the crew without offering too much to the intruders. I owe you a big plate of honeyed locusts, Lieutenant. And if they keep me on my diet of rabbit food, I might join you-

He heard noise from the Quarters ahead, and silently motioned for Zir and Auger to press against the wall. Then he heard familiar cursing, and called out, “Lieutenant! It’s me!” When he didn’t get a response, he moved to the door’s manual controls.

Fuzzybutt leaned in close. “She might be infected. They all are onboard, except you and me. You might have to blow up the ship-”

“Shut up,” Hrelle muttered, as the doors slid apart and Hrelle drew closer, barking in Old Caitian, “Niece of mine! Answer me!”

From within, she responded hoarsely, “Come in- I’m alone- need help-”

He stormed in, phaser still raised anyway, until he saw C’Rash leaning weakly against a chair, beside an obviously-dead body on the bed, that of the male Betazoid they rescued. He heard no one else, and set down the phaser to help his niece to straighten up. “Are you okay? What happened? Where’s Heisenberg?”

C’Rash was obviously fighting to straighten up. “Drugged... he killed Veid... scent’s about ten minutes old... he has my phaser-”

He nodded and looked to Auger and Zir. “Stay here with Lt Shall, keep her moving to work some of the drug out of her system, then take her to Sickbay when the systems come back online.” He saw a hand towel near the desk, lifted it up and brought it to his snout, catching Heisenberg’s scent.

“No,” C’Rash protested. “Give me a moment, I’m coming round-”

“We don’t have time. His companions are due, and we’re bound, blind, deaf and toothless-”

“Speak for yourself,” Fuzzybutt protested, climbing up on top of Hrelle’s head to look around.

“-And Heisenberg will have the cure for Blue Sunshine.” He raised a paw to the others. “No arguments. Keep an eye and ear peeled in case he returns.”

Then he departed, focusing on his tracking his prey... and wondered where Heisenberg might have gone to await the Syndicate vessel.

*

Captain Weynik appeared on the miniature screen on the companel of the Longpaw, black eyestalks tilted down. “You’re certain of this, Lieutenant?”

Giles glanced over at the adjacent status displays. “Yes, Sir: normal subspace channels are down with the Surefoot, but someone rigged their Parking Lights to broadcast a message in Starfleet Semaphore Pulse Code: ‘Virotic Infection Onboard. Systems Compromised. Purge Imminent.’ I’ve rechecked the message with my onboard computer three times. And now they appear completely powered down, as you’d expect from a Systems Purge.”

“The Orion Syndicate are behind this,” Sasha opined beside Weynik, pushing the Roylan aside slightly to be better seen in the monitor. “I just read reports about Virotics, and it would explain what happened to the Aquarius. Anything more about the approaching vessel?”

“Still no ID beam, and there’s something about their hull configuration preventing detailed long-distance analysis.”

“Orion Syndicate Interceptors are sheathed with energy-absorbing materials that disrupt long range sensors.” Her face turned beetroot. “Get your weapons online, Giles! Take a position in front of the Surefoot-”

Weynik pushed Sasha back and recaptured the screen. “Sit down, Giraffeski, I’m still in charge here, I’ve got a note from my father that says so.” Then he faced Giles again. “Get your weapons online, and take a position in front of the Surefoot.”

Offscreen, Sasha muttered, “Brilliant idea, Sir.”

Weynik ignored her. “We’re still twenty-two minutes away. When they arrive, see if you can stall them, negotiate with them. Buy some time.” He paused and added, “Do anything you can.”

Giles nodded soberly, powering up the phasers and microtorpedoes. “I understand, Sir. I’m leaving the rest of the Away Team here on the Aquarius; if anything happens to me, please ensure to their safety.”

Sasha shoved herself back into view, pointing an angry finger at him. “Nothing’s happening to you, Giles, you hear me? You survive, or I swear I’ll follow you to the Afterlife and spend eternity kicking your ass! You got that, Mister?”

Weynik pushed her aside again. “Rein it in, Lieutenant.” But more sympathetically, he added to Giles, “But maybe it’d be best to try and stay alive. You know Sasha better than me, she might not be bluffing.”

Giles smiled slightly, undocking from the Aquarius and heading to protect the only home he now recognised. “You might be right, Sir. See you soon... hopefully. Longpaw out.”

*

Heisenberg didn’t expect the lights, and everything else, to go out. He had left the VIP Quarters, moving forward to the Shuttlebay when it happened, and he ducked into an alcove containing a vertical ladder as he heard the sound of doors being manually opened, and uninfected crewmembers leaving wherever they had been trapped to go to their duty stations, or so he expected from the orders that preceded the blackout.

One unfortunate crewmember, a Grazerite female, rushed up to the alcove, obviously to employ it. Heisenberg fired his phaser, sending the crewmember backwards to hit the opposite wall and slump down, crying out loudly as she clutched her side, which was smouldering.

He emerged from the alcove, firing at several others who had emerged from doorways in response to the cries. He struck their legs, the burn setting of the beams disabling his targets but leaving them alive – and necessitating aid from others, thus diverting forces from intercepting him.

“Heisenberg?” came the voice over his miniature earpiece. “We’re two minutes away. What’s your status?”

He paused, glancing around him, keeping alert; two minutes can be a lifetime... he turned and fired behind him. “The vessel and crew shouldn’t give you any trouble, I’ve infected and disabled both, and they’re still trying to right themselves. Now I’m getting to a secure beam-out place you can beam me away from. When can-”

The comlink cut off.

Heisenberg froze in place, tried and failed to re-establish the comlink. What happened? Why did they stop communicating-

No. No no no no NO NO!

He raced towards the Shuttlebay.

*

Gyver helped a shaking, sweaty Val to his feet, as they were joined by Hylore with a replaced helmet for her suit. “I’ve got Mal and Ali lying down, but they’re babbling in some sort of waking nightmare-”

The equinoid nodded. “It will pass, with our help, as it has with Val. Please, help me with him-”

“YOU!”

All turned as Heisenberg rushed up, desperately pointing the phaser at each of them in turn. “Which of you can get us out of here in a shuttle?”

“I can, Sir,” Gyver volunteered calmly, stepping aside from the others, and ignoring the reactions they gave him. “How may I assist?”

The doctor moved up to him, shaking now. “Go! Get to the Shuttlebay! Hurry!” Then he aimed at Hylore and Val. “Or they die before you! NOW!”

Gyver nodded to him, turned and proceeded down the corridor, hurried along when Heisenberg stabbed the phaser into his back. “Move! We don’t have much time! I have no intention of dying alongside all of you!”

“I understand, Sir,” Gyver replied.

*

Giles rechecked his weapons, his shields and sensors and other systems. A minute away. Well, Giles, what do you do? Wait for them to come to you before you draw the line, here and no farther, or...

He opened a channel. “Attention, Orion Syndicate vessel: this is Lieutenant Giles Arrington of the USS Longpaw. You have entered Federation space illegally, without registration or a filed flight plan. I’m ordering you to come to an immediate full stop, power down your systems and prepare to be boarded, or I will have no choice but to open fire upon you. Please respond.”

He swallowed, hoping he’d sounded suitably authoritative. This could work. As Captain Hrelle once taught him, Sometimes battles are won with a baring of the teeth and no blood drawn. This could work. As the silence continued, he assured himself of that again.

Then a reply came. “Say your prayers.”

*

In another age, when he wore another name, Walter Heisenberg would have talked to his captive for hours, asked about his equinoid features and hooves and mane and the types of conditions that cropped up in their gene pool. When he was younger, and full of curiosity and promise, he craved meeting members of new races, and asking all about them: their homeworlds, evolutions, physical and mental specifications. He loved to learn... and just for the sake of learning.

But life on the New Albuquerque Colony in Archanis was rough, too rough to allow such indulgences. His joy at knowledge was soon tempered. Tempered by shame, the shame of knowing what his mother had to do to keep the family fed and sheltered. Tempered by anger, anger at the corrupt authorities who let the Syndicate run their world in all but name. But mostly tempered by fear, fear that the next knock at the door was from the Syndicate, looking to finally collect on the family’s ever-present debt to them.

So he finally grew tired, tired of the shame, the anger, and the fear, and he channelled his abilities towards those who could reward him. And the Syndicate did, taking him in, offering resources and protection.

He became the knock at the door. The one who brought shame and anger and fear to others. At least, until the Syndicate believed he was too risky to keep alive, even to rescue.

He held Gyver by the scruff of the alien’s robes as he dragged him into the cold, dark confines of the Shuttlebay, glancing around, phaser pointed ahead of him. Meanwhile, his captive kept saying, “Please forgive me... please forgive me...”

“Which shuttle’s the fastest? Can you get the Shuttlebay doors open?”

“Please forgive me.”

Heisenberg faced him, taut with anger and anxiety. “What the Hell are you apologising for?”

“For lying to you, Sir. I know nothing of flying shuttles.”

“What?” The human stepped back, eyes wide in disbelief. “Why?”

“To save my friends. A sin to prevent a greater sin is permitted by my belie-”

Heisenberg squeezed the trigger and fired at point blank range at Gyver’s head.

Gyver dodged to the left, the phaser bolt flying past to strike the wall behind him, before striking out with his right hoof, sending Heisenberg flying backwards. Then he followed, kneeling down beside the fallen man, examining the damage. “And please forgive me for hurting you, Sir.”

Hrelle entered the Shuttlebay, seeing Gyver beside Heisenberg. Unable to recall the equinoid’s name, he chose the generic, “Crewman! Are you alright?”

Gyver looked up. “Yes, thank you, Sir. Please let me check to ensure I didn’t injure this gentleman too unduly-”

Heisenberg half-sat up, gasping and coughing as he saw Hrelle. “We- we have to- have to go- the Syndicate have sent- sent a ship-”

Hrelle nodded, pointing the phaser at him. “I know, to collect you.”

The human coughed as he let out a harsh, mirthless laugh. “I thought that, too. They’re here to silence me...”

Still on Hrelle’s shoulder, Fuzzybutt growled. “Kill him. Kill the Orions. Kill them all.”

Hrelle ignored the suggestion, focusing on the fallen human. “Give us the antidote to the Virotics you released onboard, and we’ll protect you-” Then he stopped. “They’re silencing all of us, aren’t they?”

Heisenberg offered a rueful smile. “It’s the Syndicate way. When they knock at your door... it means you’re dead men walking.”

*

On the Bridge of the Ajax, the protest of the engines being pushed to their limits and beyond sent a teeth-jarring whine through the very hull of the ship. Weynik’s First Officer, the Zakdorn Kohanim, kept glancing at the Engineering readouts, and then at his Captain, saying nothing.

Weynik kept staring ahead.

Behind him, his Second Officer Sasha would not stay silent. “Ten minutes until we reach the Surefoot. The Orions will be there in two minutes.”

The Roylan continued to stare at the viewscreen, the starfield dilated almost to a pinpoint, as focused as his own thoughts. “Hail the Syndicate ship.”

“Sir?”

“Hurry!” He breathed in, preparing himself.

Seconds later, Sasha announcing, “Hailing Frequencies open, Captain.”

He rose, as if he could look across the distance and see the vessel threatening his best friend and his ship and crew. “Attention Orion Syndicate Vessel: this is Captain Weynik of the USS Ajax.

We both know you will have already detected our approach. We both know that you will reach the Surefoot and the Longpaw before we do, and that when you arrive, you will take action to destroy the vessels to suppress any knowledge of your criminal activity.

You’re too late. They have already forwarded their logs to us, all their collated data on your drugs and your operative, and we have passed these onto Starfleet Intelligence. Taking further action at this stage will be pointless.

Should you choose to continue on your present course, however, I promise that when we arrive... we will not kill you.

We will take you alive. We will devote all of our resources to keep you from dying, either by our hands or your own. And then your names and images will be broadcast on all the news channels in the Quadrant, declaring that you are cooperating fully with us against the Syndicate.

I should not have to tell you how the Syndicate will respond to your alleged treachery, as an example to others. How their vengeance will affect your assets back home, your business interests, your partners, your allies.

Your families.

Ask yourselves if whatever short-term gains you might make today will be worth it. But I’d advise you to make up your minds right now.” He signalled to Sasha to end the transmission.

The Bridge went quiet, until Kohanim rose to his feet, the oatmeal-skinned humanoid appearing even paler than usual. “Sir... no matter the provocation, to threaten their families-”

“I never did that,” Weynik snapped. “I merely reminded them that the weed of crime can bear bitter fruit, and not just for themselves. Lt Hrelle, what’s the situation ahead of us?”

Sasha glanced down at her board. “The Orion vessel... is turning around! Heading back the way they came!”

*

On the Longpaw, Giles had listened to the message from Captain Weynik to the Syndicate, and, coiled like a spring, waited. Waited. Waited.

Then he saw the ship make a sudden, sharp turnaround.

Seconds later, the Ajax contacted him again on audio. “Stand down, Lieutenant. We’ll be there in seven minutes to assist.”

Then he heard Sasha add, “That should give you time to change your pants.”

Giles withheld his initial answer to simply reply, “Aye, Sir.”

*

Hrelle kept his phaser trained on Heisenberg. “You’re under arrest, Doctor. But if you give us the cure to Blue Sunshine-”

The human looked up at him, near panicking now. “You don’t understand! My employers are coming to destroy us all!”

“Shoot him,” Fuzzybutt urged. “He’s a whiney little kussik.”

Hrelle focused on the captive. “Is that right? You’ve been in contact with them?”

“Yes!”

“How far away are they?”

“They said two minutes!”

“And when did you last contact them?”

Heisenberg blinked. “About... five minutes ago.”

Hrelle nodded. “So... either they stopped somewhere for a bathroom break...” He paused as the lights returned to life around them. “Or things are no longer as desperate as you feared. So, about that cure...”

Heisenberg looked up, and Hrelle could see the man quickly reconsider the changed situation... and how he could turn it to his advantage. “I want a deal: immunity from prosecution for any crimes which I may have committed on either the Aquarius or the Surefoot, and safe unrestricted passage to the nearest non-aligned world. Agree, and I’ll tell you how to neutralise the viruses.”

Hrelle regarded him. “Agreed. One moment, please.” Then he tapped his combadge. “Hrelle to Bridge: what’s our status?”

Kit’s voice replied, “The infection of our ship’s systems has been cleared, Respected Captain, we have a skeleton crew of uninfected personnel manning critical stations, there are numerous minor injuries but thankfully no fatalities reported among the infected, and the USS Ajax has arrived to render assistance. And yourself?”

“I’m in the Shuttlebay, with Dr Heisenberg. I’m taking him to Sickbay, where Dr Shyrik can scan him and extract whatever methods the man employs to remain immune from the effects of the crap he peddles. Then I’m taking him to the Brig, before joining you. Hrelle out.”

Heisenberg glared up at him. “Lying son of a bitch! We had a deal!”

Hrelle blinked. “Did we? I mustn’t have been in my right mind if I said something like that.”

“Now shoot him!” Fuzzybutt demanded.

Hrelle reached up and swatted him away.

*

“Captain’s Personal Log, Supplemental, Esek Hrelle, Recording: Dr Shyrik managed to identify the neutralising agent Heisenberg employs to avoid contamination from his own products, and has quickly distributed this among the crew, with everyone making a full recovery from this, as well as the injuries that resulted from this incident.

Lt Arrington and the Away Team returned safely from the Aquarius, which has been cleaned up and reprogrammed to journey back to Tandara Prime to be retrieved by the local authorities. And I am placing a note of commendation on Lt Kitirik’s record, regarding his command during this crisis.

Lt Shall has moved Heisenberg to the Brig, for eventual transfer to Starbase G-6 to face trial for his numerous crimes. Heisenberg has promised to return and come ‘knocking’.

I’ll try not to lose too much sleep over that. Especially if the Syndicate get to him first.

There will be psychological and emotional injuries to deal with here as well, of course, but fortunately we have a capable Counselor onboard, who seems satisfied with my psychological and emotional health. He’s no Kami, but he’ll do.

On a personal note, it turns out that even I was affected by Blue Sunshine, though the effects were apparently lessened by the suppressant treatments I received to minimise Caitian Pheromone Withdrawal. Though for the life of me I can’t recall any symptoms.

Captain Fuzzybutt can’t recall anything, either.

 

That’s a joke, by the way.”

*

Bellator was emerging from an inspection of Engineering, along with a number of recommendations on additional failsafes to prevent loss of Bridge control, when they stopped and turned at a set of footfalls, and a familiar voice. “Lieutenant!”

They straightened up formally, hands folded behind them. “Mr Dellaport? I trust you’ve recovered from the attack?”

The young human stiffened formally as well, his pale skin flushed, his eyes wide as he visibly gathered his resolve. “Yes, Lieutenant, thank you. It was... I think Alison called it ‘mind blowing’, which is as good a description as any, I guess. Lieutenant, I know you’re very busy, so I’ll say what I came to say.”

Nevertheless, he paused, prompting Bellator to reply, with some mild amusement. “When you’re ready...”

He swallowed, his voice and expression one of genuine remorse. “I’m... sorry, Lieutenant. Sorry for how I’ve acted. Sorry for how I’ve treated everyone onboard. Sorry for disgracing the uniform. Whatever feelings I might have had that led me to join Starfleet should have been left behind the moment I took the Oath. That’s... That’s all I wanted to say.”

Bellator narrowed their gaze. “That’s all?”

He nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, I should return to my quarters. Thank you again.”

Then he turned and left, Bellator watching after him thoughtfully.

*

“Come on, Dad, fess up,” Sasha teased as she followed Hrelle down the corridor to his quarters. “You planned all this to get me to come visit you, right?”

Hrelle nodded as the doors parted. “If I was gonna put that much effort into something, it would be to circumvent the dietary restrictions on the replicators-” He froze, hearing and smelling someone new. “Who’s in here?”

Immediately a short, grey-skinned female humanoid in Crewman’s fatigues emerged, carrying a large bundle of clothes in her arms, grinning broadly. “Hello, Sir! It’s Crewman Jain, Support Services!”

“Malala, what are you doing in here?”

She indicated the clothing. “I was going to deal with your laundry, Sir! I know you’ve been busy saving all of us, so-”

He raised a paw to her. “Thank you for the gesture, Crewman, but I’d rather you didn’t. If you clean them, they’ll lose the scent of my family, something I need in the absence of the real thing.”

Malala’s face paled as the realisation of what she was about to do hit her. “Sir! Oh Sir, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise! I’m sorry!”

He smiled. “It’s okay, just put them down.”

“Yes! Yes, Sir!” She let them drop to the floor and stepped away from them.

Sasha smirked. “Great, now you get to work on your abs.”

“Smartass. You remember Malala Jain, of course. You and Alpha Squad discovered them on the freighter Beholder... and she came to address the crowd at your graduation.”

Sasha’s reaction told him that she hadn’t made the connection until now, and it made the young human flush. “Yes. Yes, of course. I- I never got the chance to say Thanks, for your kind words that day.”

Malala’s eyes widened. “You... want to thank me? You saved my life! You saved me and everyone else who’d been taken from our colony by those slavers! I owe you everything! I owe you and Captain Hrelle everything! Anything you want, I’ll do for you!”

Hrelle enjoyed the look on Sasha’s face at the Malurian’s effusive reaction, something he’d grown used to since returning to the Surefoot, before he quipped, “Well, you can always bring back a plate of fried shuris pieces from the Mess Hall for Sasha and me.”

Now it was Malala’s turn to be nonplussed, as Sasha snapped out of it to chide, “That’s not fair putting her on the spot like that, Dad, you know Doc Cowboy will have put out the word to everyone to keep you on your diet. Besides, I’m trying to clean up my act too now: no bad foods, no booze. Some sex.” She smiled at Malala. “Welcome to Starfleet. You did say in your speech you intended to pay forward what we’d done for you and your people. Glad to see you made good on that. Welcome to Starfleet.”

Malala’s grin looked wide enough to reach her ears. “Thank you! Thank you, Lieutenant!”

Hrelle shooed her. “Now get going, my daughter and I have important classified matters to discuss.”

“Yes, Sir! Yes, Ma’am! Consider me gone!”

Sasha breathed out as the younger woman departed. “All that enthusiastic energy, she’s like a sack of bunnies.” She frowned at him. “So what are these ‘important classified matters’?”

“Well, I was going to get you to order up some food for yourself so that I could take in the scent and drool-”

“Eeeuw.”

“-But instead you can take this away.” He moved to the table and picked up the Captain Fuzzybutt doll, handing it over to her.

Her mouth opened at the sight of him, and she stroked the fur on its head, a glimmer of the six-year-old girl who first got him all those years ago returning momentarily. “Oh, look at you! O Captain, My Captain!” She grinned as she hugged him, before looking at her father. “But why? What’s wrong with him? Why can’t he stay with you?”

“Just take him, okay? And if he starts lecturing you on your weight, stuff him in the recycler.”

*

Bellator suppressed a shudder as they heard the invitation, “Enter.”

They did, striding forward and standing formally before the desk in the Captain’s Ready Room. “Captain, Lieutenant Sextilis Magna Bellator reporting as ordered.”

Captain Hrelle sat behind the desk, furred paws folded before him, as T’Varik stood beside him, and Dr Auger stood silently in the background. Hrelle offered a smile. “At ease, Mx Bellator.”

Then he looked to the Vulcan, who continued. “Lieutenant, you were assigned to supervise the Support Crew. These duties include disciplinary action against Crewman Dellaport. My impression was that you were proceeding with administrative dismissal action towards him. Now we have been informed that you have changed course.”

Bellator swallowed. “Yes, Ma’am. He will have additional duties posted for the coming two weeks, and will attend daily Counseling sessions with Dr Auger to help him deal with both his memories and his reactions to them.” She took a moment to indicate Auger, who nodded silently and continued to observe the exchange. “But I have chosen not to dismiss him.”

“Why?” Hrelle asked.

The Nova Roman looked to him, feeling themselves flush. “I’m sorry, Sir, I can reverse that decision if you wish-”

“The Captain did not ask you to do that,” T’Varik elaborated mildly. “He asked for your reasoning behind your change of decision.”

“Oh, I- I thought-”

“We did not summon you here to punish you,” the Vulcan added.

“I’ve had dinner – such as it was – so you’re safe,” Hrelle joked.

Bellator swallowed again, facing him, relaxing. A little. “Yes, Sir, Ma’am, it’s true that I had every intention of having Mr Dellaport removed from Starfleet. However, the recent incident involving the Virotics has affected him, beyond the obvious physical effects. He approached me of his own accord, and apologised for his past behaviour, and promised that it would not repeat.”

“And that was all it took to make you change your mind?” T’Varik asked, sounding a little incredulous.

“No, Ma’am. There was the fact that he did not ask me to change my mind about dismissing him, that he was fully prepared to accept the decision.

But also, I... I looked into his eyes. I saw the genuine regret he had about his behaviour. The... The same regret I’ve seen in the mirror, from my own past actions... something I’ve had to revisit again when I became infected with Blue Sunshine.”

Now they faced Hrelle directly, feeling a wellspring of resolve rise up within them. “Sir, you and Ms T’Varik put me under your command, and offered me a chance at redemption. You have honoured me with your magnanimity, and I have observed how you treat others under your command, and have been inspired by it... and I hope I’ve fulfilled your expectations of me.

And I wanted to emulate such generosity of spirit, towards someone under my command.” Now they straightened up. “And with respect to both of you, unless you order me otherwise, I will stand by my decision.”

Hrelle glanced at T’Varik, before rising and walking around the desk, his tail swishing softly behind him as he faced Bellator. “There’ll be no need for that. Command without Compassion is a bitter mixture. And as a matter of fact, Lieutenant, you haven’t fulfilled our expectations. You’ve exceeded them. You show genuine, desirable leadership qualities.” He offered his right paw. “And you have honoured us. Well done, Sextilis.”

Bellator swallowed, staring up at the Caitian in disbelief.

Until he wiggled the fingers on his still-extended paw, and quipped, “My arm’s getting tired from this starvation diet they’ve got me on.”

They happily accepted the paw, with an uncharacteristic grin.

Hrelle smiled at T’Varik... and at Auger, who regarded him thoughtfully.

*

Dellaport shifted another few centimetres forward in the Shuttlebay, the vastness of the open space a contrast to the tiny degausser in his hands. It was cool in here, but he didn’t want to stop and get a warmer jacket from his quarters. It would be forever and a day to finish the Lieutenant’s list of additional tasks required if he was to remain in Starfleet, onboard. Don’t think about it, Val, just do it. If nothing else, it keeps you out of trouble. Besides, your friends are probably sick of you-

He heard the doors leading to the rest of the ship open, but he never bothered to look behind him; crewmembers came in all the time, to run diagnostics or check on the runabouts or-

“Hi, Val.”

Now he stopped and straightened up, frowning as if from the ache in his back and knees, though his pain was instantly eclipsed by confusion. “What are you guys doing here?”

Malala, Kevin, Alison, Hylore and Gyver stood there, in uniform despite their being off-duty, and carrying maintenance equipment identical to his own. Malala beamed at him as she took a position beside him on the floor, preparing her own tools. “Oh, I just took a course on Shuttlebay Floor Maintenance, and I have to do a practical exercise on it.”

Dellaport stared at her incredulously, then turned as Hylore knelt down opposite him, the Argoan’s breathing liquid clear enough to display the expression on her face as she began degaussing the floor before her. “I have to test the sensitivity of my suit to Engineering equipment.”

“Guys...”

Alison knelt beside Hylore. “I’m writing a story about a Shuttlebay maintenance worker, so I need to know what it’s like to use this tool.”

“Seriously?” Dellaport asked, sounding both amused and appreciative.

Now Kevin stepped forward and joined the others, the Gorn announcing, “I losst a bet.”

Dellaport looked around him in disbelief. “Guys, thanks, but really I don’t think you should be helping me. It’s supposed to be my punishment, after all.”

“Who’s helping you?” Malala retorted, unable or unwilling to drop the smirk from her face. “We all have legitimate excuses for being here.”

The human finally looked to Gyver, who was preparing his maintenance gloves. “Isn’t it against your religion to lie, Gyve?”

The black-hided equinoid nodded as he joined them on the floor. “I will not lie. I am here to help a friend with a task. And then we can all have our evening meal together.”

Kevin hissed. “Bloody ssspoilssport. He’ss gonna think we actually like him.”

*

The Roylan Admiral onscreen never had the most expressive faces, a typical feature of his people. Now, however, Hrelle could see a wealth of emotions on the aquamarine visage. “What’s happening, Sir?”

Tattok’s black eyestalks tilted down. “The Jem’Hadar have left Betazed, retreating to Cardassia.”

Hrelle reacted; it was not exactly what he had expected to hear. “I’m assuming they’re not running in fear of my return to duty.”

“You assume correctly, Captain. The Dominion everywhere in the Quadrant are withdrawing, fortifying their borders there, giving themselves time to recover their numbers.”

Beside Hrelle, just outside of Tattok’s view, T’Varik and Weynik reacted. Hrelle understood their response. “We’re not just gonna let them do that, are we, Sir? With their cloning facilities and Cardassian shipyards, they could be back to full force in weeks.”

“Starfleet Command, and the Klingon and Romulan Empires are all in agreement on that. That’s why we’re not giving them that chance. We’re all converging at Deep Space Nine, and from there launching the final offensive on Cardassia.”

Mother’s Cubs... “The combined forces of Starfleet and the Klingon and Romulan fleets... it’ll be the biggest collection of vessels ever seen in the Quadrant.”

Tattok nodded. “Facing the Jem’Hadar, the Breen and the Cardassian fleets. From this point onward, Communications are restricted to intership; no outside transmissions are to be sent or received.”

Hrelle ground his teeth, though his acute disappointment at not being able to see or hear Kami and their family before going into battle was eclipsed by the confirmation that this was it: Armageddon, as described in Terran myth, the final battle between good and evil. One way or another, the damned War was going to be decided at Cardassia.

How many of them will survive was another story.

*

Five minutes before the Communications blackout, Dr Auger was in his office, on a secure comlink with the woman who ensured he was assigned to the Surefoot. “I’m not sure what I’m allowed to tell you, Admiral... Medical Confidentiality and all that.”

“I’m not interested in confidential information. I’ve seen his record, talked to people who have worked with him, heard about what he did on his homeworld. Come on, Alex. Give me your impression of the man.”

Auger reached for his coffee mug and leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowing pensively. “Captain Hrelle is the most paternal commanding officer I’ve ever met... and the most resilient. He has been through Hell, has been burned thoroughly when he was there, but still keeps striding forward, and has learned to balance being a family man and a Captain. He’s equal parts strong and gentle, gifted and humble, humorous and indomitable. I think the only thing he ever has a real problem managing is his waistline.

But the real reflection of any Commanding Officer is in the people under them. And the people under Captain Hrelle would do anything for him. There’s a Vulcan here who was practically ready to punch me for disrespecting him! It goes beyond Starfleet loyalty, beyond the camaraderie that builds up among crews during War. It’s a rare gift. Together, they can achieve anything they set their minds on.”

The Admiral nodded. “Thank you, Alex.”

“I owed you one.” Auger sipped at his drink, before confessing, “I’d still like to know what interest you have in Captain Hrelle.”

Admiral Marija Raner, Chief of Starfleet Security, offered a rare smile. “Yes. I’m sure you would.”

 

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL CONTINUE IN...