Jaggel Province, Orion Prime – Years Ago:
“He’s here, Sire.”
Surinh Dag stopped posing in front of the tri-mirror… after a final indulgent moment of admiring the intricate silk pattern of his new jacket, crafted by the fingers of the finest child slaves of the Ngazorc Province. I will think of your tireless efforts every time I wear this in public, you talented little sprouts. He ran a thick hand over his bald green head, noting a re-emergence of stubble, promising to take a club to his groomer for his carelessness, as he turned around and stepped forward. “Well, let’s have a look at him.”
His majordomo swallowed. “I should warn you, Sire, he is… malodorous.”
Surinh Dag smirked, returning to his chair and arranging himself upon it like a bride awaiting her betrothed. “I didn’t buy him for his pleasant musk. Bring him in.”
A gesture, and then the doors to the anteroom parted, and two guards dragged in a bundle of rags and fur bound together in chains and a collar. Surinh Dag affected a casual air as he signalled for another slave to bring him a fresh goblet, but kept an eye on the new arrival, seeing more than just a broken thing. He saw something beneath, a coiled spring, ready to take its chance to strike out and escape… or kill.
Good, good… the Breen hadn’t broken him entirely… He stayed silent as they dropped the prisoner to the marble floor at Surinh Dag’s feet, and as his slave brought him his drink, he held the gold goblet in one hand, swirling the magenta liquid within as he regarded his latest possession. “Well, now, look at what dragged in the cat…” He chuckled, before finally addressing him. “Captain?”
The bundle of clumped, knotted, burnt fur on the Caitian’s head stirred at the mention of the rank, and he looked up at Surinh Dag from under the unruly mane, one eye visible, fixed and unblinking.
Yes, there it is… the fire he’ll need… The Orion smiled back at him. “Captain Esek Hrelle, former Starfleet officer, former Shipmaster of the USS Furyk… I am Surinh Dag, Sire of the Orion Deathmatches, the most popular entertainment within the Empire. Welcome to your new home.”
Hrelle made a raw guttural sound, before baring yellowed, ragged teeth and responding, “Stroke off.”
One of the guards drew closer, raising a neuroleptic stunstick to strike the slave in response - until Surinh Dag stabbed a finger at him, snarling, “Touch him and I’ll have you flayed.”
The guard drew back again, chastened, before the Orion master focused on Hrelle again, genial once more. “Past Sires have played the Patriotic Card, focusing on building and honing Orion champions for the young sprouts to admire, but I’ve developed an eye for potential talent among off-worlder kafirlirs like yourself. In fact, this business plan has let me become very wealthy and very powerful.” He lifted his goblet towards Hrelle. “And I have a feeling in my gut that you will take me to new heights of both.”
“Stroke off,” the Caitian growled.
Surinh Dag took a drink. “You will be cleaned, deloused, groomed, fed, healed… and enhanced. We have chemicals, narcotics, nanoprobes, a training regime second to none. We make champions here. Oh, I know you’ll resist – I would be disappointed if you didn’t – but we’ll also have additional pain-inducing implants placed at key nerve clusters within your body, to remind you, only when you need reminding of course, of your new lot in life.
But the reverse will also be true: when you fully embrace your servitude with me… and you will, I promise… you will be suitably rewarded, with food and comforts better than many free Orions experience.
And those free Orions will watch you onscreen, talk about you the next morning at work and on the transports, bet upon you, the Sprouts will pretend to fight you in the schoolyards, they’ll buy your merchandise, and cheer on…” His brow furrowed in thought. “Ooh, what shall we call you? ‘The Caitian Conqueror’? ‘Lion-O’? ‘Power Cat’? ‘Bloodclaw’?”
“Stroke off.”
Surinh Dag shook his head. “No, that won’t do…” He smiled in triumph. “’The Beast’. Yes, yes, simple but powerful, a word even the youngest sprout out there will understand…” He raised his goblet again, this time in salute. “Welcome to your new life, Beast. And I truly hope that you can expand your vocabulary with your next response.”
Hrelle glared up at him, still growling… before finally declaring, “You… will… regret this day…”
The Orion laughed, not listening anymore, his mind already filled with the fortune he would make from his Beast.
*
Orion Blockade Runner Green Death – Now:
Surinh Dag lifted up his feet and rested the heels of his massive boots onto the edge of the desk, resting his folded hands onto his belt as he regarded the image of the human on the screen. “Everything is proceeding as planned, Bastien. We remain undetected by Starfleet, and our pawn on Salem One has been compliant. Has the Galaxy’s Richest Psycho left the station yet?”
Bastien Dumont reacted to the remark. “Monsieur Zorinn has just departed… and I would advise a more respectful attitude to our sponsor; none of us would be where we are without his generosity, and if he wishes to participate in our plans in his own inimitable fashion, we must indulge.”
Surinh Dag looked away, signalling Nuvauth, the Shipmaster’s personal slave, a petite Romulan child with sable hair tied back to display her pointed ears and brow ridges, to bring him more wine. Then he turned back to his human partner. “We could have delivered the Virus to Hrelle in a hundred different, safer ways.”
Dumont shrugged. “Or, more simply, we could have blown up the station. But then the customer is always right, n’est-ce pas? And once our plans are completed and we have taken control of the sector, our sponsor will move onto other interests, leaving us to reap the continued rewards. Speaking of which, we need you to keep monitoring the Kzinti border; our felinoid allies are amassing, but their bloodlust might make them cross early before we’re ready.”
He reached out and accepted the proffered goblet from the slave without acknowledging her. “Understood. We’ll talk again at the pre-arranged time. End Transmission.”
The wallscreen went black, and Surinh Dag looked across at the other remaining occupant in the room, unseen and unheard during the communication. “Well?”
Nesrac Sur, Shipmaster of the Green Death and Surinh Dag’s second, drew out a long black cigar from a stasis box, bringing it over. “Here you go, Sire.”
Surinh Dag accepted it, looking up curiously. “Not joining me?”
The other Orion produced a lighter as he shook his head. “Too many bad memories. My father indulged in it too much in his final days of self-pity and melancholy.”
Surinh Dag nodded, knowing of Nesrac’s father, Daalen Sur, former Shipmaster of the Green Death, and frequent nemesis of Hrelle before the Caitian had been enslaved, a relationship that had ultimately broken Daalen. He bit off one end of the cigar, spitting it to the floor to let Nuvauth scurry over as trained to retrieve it, before he leaned forward to let his partner light the other end. “You don’t mind me indulging, though?”
“No. Maybe you can help me associate it with more positive memories.”
“That’s the attitude: Don’t let the past define your present, or especially your future. And our future will be filled with fortune and glory. Once we have this sector, the Orion Syndicate will pay heavily to safely transport their contraband deep into Federation space, bypassing the customs and security checks.”
Nesrac Sur nodded in appreciation. “You’ll be wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice.”
He regarded the younger Orion. “We will, Sprout. You won’t have to remain on this old bucket; you could get a brand new ship.” He smiled and pointed the smouldering cigar at him. “Or, consider this… you could even succeed me.”
“Succeed you? I don’t understand.”
“Once we take control of the sector and establish ourselves as a profitable business, I’ll train you to take my place, working with the Bel-Zon, the Syndicate, the Kzinti, Paserak, Zorin, anyone else who wants to use the Ballista warp catapult.”
Nesrac Sur stared, bemused, before taking a seat opposite him. “But if I did that, what would you do with yourself?”
Surinh Dag puffed away. “Me? I’m thinking of taking my accumulated wealth and returning to Orion, and restarting the Deathmatch industry. I have a new idea: child gladiators.” He chuckled. “Can you imagine it, watching little Sprouts too young to have hair on their cuksirs trained, armed, and fighting each other to the death? And we’ll definitely use children of other races. And when they’re old enough, I can sell them off as private bodyguards… or whatever else their owners want from them.”
Nesrac Sur frowned. “Sprout Gladiators?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. The winds are changing back on the Homeworld. The new Supremor has already banned Deathmatches, and is trying to abolish the slave trade, in order to open up formal trade agreements with the Federation, the Ferengi and others. And the idea’s gaining popularity-”
“I’ve heard that song before; he won’t be the first Imperial Ruler to find a Syndicate knife in his back for stirring up trouble.” He paused, taking another drag and blowing out the smoke thoughtfully. “According to the stolen files from Salem One, Commodore Hrelle has a young son, with a history of violence in defence of his family. If he has a tenth of the potential of his father, I could have a new Beast in my stable…” He looked up again. “Well? Have my plans piqued your interest?”
Nesrac Sur smiled, and beckoned to Nuvauth for a cigar of his own, lighting it up and putting his own boots onto the desk. “You trust the traitorous bitch on Salem One to continue to cooperate with us?”
“Trust? I trust Lt Dassene to comply in order to keep her family alive; her Counseling records indicated strong guilt over leaving them behind to escape into Federation space and join Starfleet. That, and her position as Hrelle’s Adjutant, makes her an ideal pawn.” He smiled. “She’s probably sitting in her quarters on Salem One right now, sobbing in despair.”
*
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Caitian Flyer Tailless, Deep Space:
Lt Zir Dassene stood at the doorway of the cockpit, staring at the back of the older, blonde-haired woman in the pilot’s seat, the human too engrossed in her work to have noticed Zir’s presence yet-
“Can I help you with something, Lieutenant?”
Zir started, before steeling herself and entering, distracted by the dilated warpfield outside, indicative of the advanced propulsion this private starship sported, raising a twinge of envy in her.
“Lieutenant?” Sasha repeated, “I thought you were resting up before the next briefing?”
Zir heard the slight shift in tone – a query tinged with accusation, something she’d heard more than once from the human’s Caitian father – but ignored it to continue with her reason for being there. “Yes, I- I wanted to thank you for doing all this for my family.”
Sasha Hrelle still didn’t look away from her work. “Well, technically I was ordered to do this by our mutual commanding officer, but I’m happy to oblige.” She paused and added, “It’s not as if it’s the first time I’ve helped rescue a relative of an Alpha Squad member.”
Zir frowned at the reference, then remembered the incident when she had turned to Sasha before to help save Peter Boone and his daughter from the Dominion, when the latter had invaded Gault. “Yes. I don’t recall thanking you for that, either.”
“You did. Can I help you with anything else?”
Zir breathed in, before stepping closer, hoping to get the other woman’s full attention and not just be dismissed, her superior rank be damned. “The deadline for when Surinh Dag tries to contact me is less than eight hours away. I know the Commodore and Commander Somerset have a plan to try and trick him by using a hologram of me in my quarters, but we can’t be sure it’ll fool him-”
“I know all this, Lieutenant.”
“What’s your plan for rescuing my family?”
Sasha leaned back, taking her hands away from the workstation and looked up at Zir, the human appearing tired. “Don’t have one yet.”
“What?”
Sasha rubbed the corners of her eyes. “I have ideas. The more information I gather, the more solid a plan I can form from those ideas.”
Zir’s heart began racing. She had felt such relief when Commodore Hrelle had assigned his daughter to help find and free Zir’s family; after all, Lt Cmdr Hrelle had been instrumental in freeing her adopted planet from occupation by the Ferasans, and she had earned a redoubtable tactical reputation before and after… even if she was psychologically damaged because of all that.
Zir had expected to hear a plan already formulated and ready to be put into action. Not this… pitiful response. “B-But you picked a whole team to accompany you! How can you do that if you don’t have a plan yet?”
Sasha checked some controls. “Oh, I think they’ll all be useful regardless of what we end up doing.”
“Useful? What, like that Caitian cadet? And the Capellan Nurse? And Tori Emoto? And what about Urad? He’s still recovering from his burn trauma! Where’s your reasoning behind them? Behind any of us?”
Sasha stared at her for a moment, before rising, stretching and walking over to a replicator unit. “Coffee, Caitian Mnara Blend, black, very sweet.” As the order materialised, she retrieved the mug, blew on it and returned to her chair. “Well, not that I have to justify my decisions, but, in no particular order: you’re obviously here because it’s your family and your people, and you have combat experience.
Lt Mori is also here for his combat and flight experience, as well as his familiarity with my ship and its Caitian systems, which is also the principal reason I chose Cadet C’Riir; in addition to his Science qualifications, he is also his squad’s backup Flight Ops Cadet, and he has experience flying Caitian vehicles back on the Motherworld.
Eydiir is here for her medical qualifications and because she’s a badass who doesn’t frighten easily, and Ensign Emoto is here because she has expertise with Orion ship systems-”
“She does?”
Sasha nodded, almost but not quite sipping her coffee. “Yeah, she wrote a paper on it for the Cochrane Institute Review three months ago.”
“She did?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you know? Thought she might have tapped you for information.”
Zir felt her face flush with embarrassment. Yes, they hadn’t been as close as when they all served together on the Surefoot, but Tori hadn’t even mentioned it! “And Urad? You really think he’s up to it after all he’s been through?”
“He seems to think so; he jumped at the offer when he heard it involved saving your family.” Sasha leaned back in her chair. “Oh, and of course I’m here because I have a killer pair of boobs. My Girls are the stuff of legend-”
“Are you drunk again?” Zir shouted now – immediately regretting it. Softer now, wishing she could crawl into a black hole, she added, “I’m sorry, I should never have said that. I know I’m upset about my family, but that was uncalled for, Ma’am.”
“Stop calling me ‘Ma’am’. Call me ‘Sasha’, or ‘Lieutenant Commander’, or ‘Your Royal Sex Machine’.” She drank now, wincing at the taste of it, or the heat, or both, or neither. “And I don’t remember you saying anything uncalled for; I was probably hammered at the time. I can only imagine what you’re going through now, having loved ones in danger through no fault of their own. Not that I’ve ever been that close to my family.”
She hid a smirk behind another sip, before continuing. “I don’t know precisely what we’ll be facing, or whether or not we’ll be up to the challenge. We never can know these things. But my Dad once said, ‘If you have to make a plan, make one not out of steel, or stone, but sailcloth’.”
At Zir’s expression, she elaborated, “Sailcloth seems flimsy, but it’s strong, and very flexible. It can fit on any size of mast and boom with a minimum of time and effort, you can make it as tight or as loose as it needs to be at a moment’s notice, and it’ll move to the changing winds and carry your ship where you ultimately want to go.” She drank once more. “You’re not gonna get any sleep before the briefing, are you?”
“Probably not,” Zir admitted.
Sasha pointed to the co-pilot’s seat with her mug hand. “Sit down. You know anything about Orion Natahv-class Blockade Runners?”
Memories flooded back, a torrent of them, all unpleasant: her flight from Orion on one such vessel, the Ngoutuk, commanded by a seven-cursed bastard named Hazaak Sur, a walking pig who reneged on the agreement he made with Zir to get her into Federation space, instead drugging, raping, branding and imprisoning her on his ship, until she was forced to kill him to escape, leaving her scarred and haunted forevermore. “A little. What do you need?”
“I need an analysis of its shield strengths, structural integrity, power systems, anything, everything-”
Zir nodded. “’Leave no crumbs, to get in my fur’.”
Sasha chuckled. “Papa Cat still says that?”
The young Orion smiled, despite the circumstances.
*
Science Cadet Hesh C’Riir tried to focus. He really did. It had been a supreme honour when Lt Cmdr Hrelle had shown up unexpectedly, offering him an opportunity to join her on an actual, real mission, with no prejudice to him if he wanted to refuse.
As if he would! Mother’s Cubs, to have the chance to work alongside the Liberator of Navron? His parents wouldn’t believe it when he wrote to them next! Besides, he felt an obligation to make up for Ange Boladede, his former squad member, who had committed that heinous act against Counselor Hrelle.
That was, assuming he could stay focused, and not end up looking like a tail-chaser in his first Season, while working in close quarters with Lt Mru Mori. He had seen him around Salem One with Lt Cmdr Hrelle, of course, and when they had participated in a private memorial ceremony for those who had died during the Occupation.
But now, in the midsection of the flyer where a Holoconsole provided a flight simulator, and Mru trained in the basic operations of the Tailless, C’Riir couldn’t stop thinking about this gorgeous male sitting beside him, any more than he could stop taking in the other male’s enticing scent. It had been so long since he’d been around his own people.
Especially not bohunks like Mru…
It was insane! Lt Mori wasn’t interested in other males, he was bonded to the Commodore’s daughter, and C’Riir was supposed to act in a professional, mature manner, not like some clueless cub! It was embarrassing! What was he going to tell Gela, Rachel and the others when he got back? That he spent most of his time away wanting to go off and stroke himself-
“Cadet?”
C’Riir blinked. “Sir?”
The older male prompted him. “The Prowl Drive?”
“Oh. Oh, yes, Sir!” He reached out and disengaged the device on the shop simulation. “Does it always need to be shut down at Warp Nine?”
Mru nodded. “The Prowl will end up reacting to the higher speeds of the flyer, rendering it useless as a cloak. Stealth or speed, not both.” He leaned back. “We’ll be taking over in the cockpit for Lt Cmdr Hrelle shortly, where you’ll have a chance to put all of this into practice. I know it’s a lot to take onboard, but-”
“No, no, Sir!” he insisted, still trying to ignore the older male’s scent. “We have one of the largest shuris ranches in Mrestir, thousands of square kilospans, and I’ll often use one of our own mini-flyers to inspect the property, rather than send a drone. The principles are pretty much the same.” He chucked. “Of course, we didn’t have phasers and microtorpedoes to deal with the sliphoppers.”
Mru smiled politely, but then suggested, “A shower.”
“Uh, what about a shower, Sir?”
“The Tailless has a water option in the shower unit. Take a cold one, it’ll help that massive hard-on you have right now.”
The younger male felt his skin flush under his fur. “Uh, Sir, I, ah, I don’t, I mean-”
“Cadet,” Mru cut in, gently but firmly, “I didn’t just climb off my mother’s teat. I can tell you’re reacting to me, and I sympathise, having been in a similar position from my Academy days, not long away from the Motherworld and then being near other Caitians again. Normally I’d recommend a suppressant so you don’t keep reacting to my scent, but Lt Cmdr Hrelle and I have seen the reports on your tracking skills, so that nose of yours might be needed.
So instead I’ll tell you to take ten minutes under cold water and then join me in the cockpit, less distracted. Consider it an order.”
C’Riir felt his skin flush beneath his fur. “Uh, yes, Sir.”
In the rear of the flyer, Tori Emoto brought back another tray of fried chicken pieces from the replicator and set it down on the floor beside Urad Kaldron, the massive pachydermoid making a pleasing sound. “Little Comrade, you remain my angel! Please, sit and tuck in!”
The young woman grunted as she sat down on the floor beside him. “I had enough from your first tray. Then I had too much on your second. Any more and I’ll barf and shit like there’s no tomorrow.” Then she leaned back and watched his routine: taking a chicken piece, popping it into his muzzle and sucking the meat and skin from it, before returning the perfectly-denuded bone to the plate. “I will never get tired of seeing you do that.”
She looked away, examining the interior of the space, the most comfortable place for her huge friend. “Remember when we were onboard this last? Rescuing Peter’s kid? And we boarded that Dominion ship, and you took on those Jem’Hadar shitstains, and they were all over you like a rash on Flygirl’s cooch…”
Urad made a sound as he spat out a drumstick bone into his hand to drop onto the plate. “Yes, Comrade, I remember. They proved most… tenacious… in their efforts to stab me to death. Very rude.”
“Yeah. Tougher than those Cardassian asswipes on the Surefoot.” She looked down at her knees, swallowing and tightening her jaw. “Urad… I never thanked you for saving me from them. I- I didn’t want to think about it afterwards, so I never said anything. Sorry.”
He stopped eating and looked at her, his voice gentle, belying his size. “You do not have to apologise, Dear Comrade Tori. Not after what those scoundrels tried to do.”
“But- But I do have to. Because… later on the station, when you were burned by that Dragon… you could have died.”
“I know.”
Now she looked up at him. “You could have died never knowing how I felt.”
“I know.”
“About you.”
“I know.”
“No you don’t know, you dumb fucking Family Size bag of mugato shit! You’re my best friend! I love you!” She jabbed him with her elbow. “Stupid Asshole!”
Urad reached out to her with an open hand.
Tori’s hand joined it. Looking so small in his palm.
“And I love you too,” he declared. “My wonderful, incredibly-profane little best friend.”
*
In one of the guest quarters in the midsection, Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas squatted on the floor in meditation, her people’s traditional weapons laid out before her on a forest green oilcloth, the steel of the Capellan kligat throwing blades and the short swords reflecting the holographic candlelight nearby. She waited. Waited for-
A chime, from the door behind her. “You are permitted to enter.”
Sasha stepped in, waiting for the door to slide shut behind her before answering, “Gee, thank you so very much for letting me walk into a part of my own ship.”
“You’re welcome. You are also permitted to step around and face me instead of talking to the back of my head, your mien is not that unappealing.”
“Please, Bubulah, you’re gonna spoil me.” But Sasha complied, taking a chair from the nearby desk and swinging it around so she could straddle it, resting her arms on the back. “Is everything uncomfortable enough for you here? I could get some sharp pebbles or broken glass to cover the floor.”
“Thank you, no. Has something happened?”
“No. We’re on course, we’ll get there before the deadline. I don’t have a plan yet, but I will, I promise.”
“No promise is necessary. I have faith in you.”
Sasha grunted at the woman she was closer to than she had ever expected when they first met years ago at the Academy. “Glad someone does. I fell off the wagon.”
The dark-skinned Capellan looked up and frowned. “I saw no wagon onboard. Is it some gaudy sexual contraption of yours?”
“No. Wagons were used on Earth centuries ago to sprinkle water on dirt roads to keep the dust down. People who vowed to stop drinking would claim they’d rather hop onto these wagons to drink its water rather than alcohol. If they lapsed, then they could be said to have fallen off that wagon.”
Eydiir made a sound. “It seems simpler and easier to just say ‘lapsed’.” Now she looked up at Sasha. “Do not wallow in self-pity. If it is of any comfort, be assured that I have always known you are far, far from perfect.”
“Flatterer.” Sasha breathed in. “I need your help.”
The Capellan made no quip this time, instead offering, “What can I do?”
“I need a sponsor, a mentor and advisor, someone I can turn to, to help me manage my addiction. I can’t ask Mru, or Dad or Kami, they’re not appropriate for various reasons. If I feel I might fall off the- if I might lapse again, I need someone close but who’s not afraid to be strong and honest with me.”
Eydiir nodded. “I have never been deficient in either of those two traits.”
“So I’ve noticed. I also need someone with medical training, at least now. I’ve been awake for most of the last eighteen hours, and I’m going into a combat situation. Every instinct in me wants me to just go straight to my medical unit and take some cordafin or animazine to keep me buzzing until we save Zir’s family, but I also know that that’s a recipe for disaster.”
“Agreed.”
“But I still need something.”
“So you require a more controlled intake from a medical professional, rather than trust your own judgement? Very sensible.” The Capellan began returning her weapons to their scabbards. “Get in the bed.”
Sasha raised an eyebrow. “Whoa! I know I made you my Bridesmaid for the wedding, but if you’re gonna make some sweet moves on me before I get hitched-”
“I will provide a measured stimulant for you later, but you will sleep first, naturally, for an hour.” She rose effortlessly to her feet. “Alone, I might add. And I would recommend keeping your hands above the covers.”
Sasha pouted comically. “You never let me have any fun.”
Eydiir prepared her medical kit. “You are my Spirit Sister, I love you, and I will be privileged to be your Sponsor. Now shut up and get in the bed, or I will pummel you.”
*
Zir stopped at the doorway into the midsection when she saw Tori sitting there, reading from a PADD. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you here.”
The young Terran looked up. “The BFG’s sleeping off that fifth round of chicken. You want me to go?”
“No, no!” She moved to the replicator and brought up a mug of raktajino, returning with it to sit at the table beside her. “I just thought that you and Urad might have wanted some… private time.”
Tori looked up and scowled in bemusement, before her jaw dropped. “Holy shit! You don’t think Urad and I are screwing, do you?”
“Well, you and he seem- well- pretty tight-”
Tori guffawed until she snorted. “Frick me gently with a warp core, no! We’re just best friends! I can’t begin to even imagine the logistics of us trying to Bump Uglies! And with his monster piece I wouldn’t be pretty tight for very long! Even if he wasn’t gay!”
Zir felt her olive skin darken. “Wait, Urad’s gay? I never heard him say anything!”
“Did you ever ask?”
“Well… no. I could never come out and ask someone that.”
Tori chuckled. “No shit. How long did you go mooning over Peter before you found out he was gay?”
Zir stared at her, having forgotten that. How much did her friends keep from her? Was she really that distant back then? Or just stuck up? She shook her head, already knowing the answer to that. “I guess I can still be surprised by my former squad members.”
“Yep.” Tori smirked and reached for her own drink.
“Like, for instance, I only just found out that you wrote a paper on Orion ship systems, and never approached me about it for help.”
Tori froze, her own skin flushing as she looked down into the contents of her cup. “Yeah, well, it was after that business when the Surefoot encountered the Orions at Ucarro. We took a lot of data on it, and Captain T’Varik suggested I submit the paper as part of my ‘personal development’.” She snorted at the notion, before shrugging. “No big deal.”
Zir leaned back. “But you still kept it quiet from me? Why?”
The Terran breathed out, looking almost annoyed at being confronted. “Zir, we all know what you had to go through to get away from your own people. You’ve been trying to put all of that Orion crap behind you, and be seen as just a Starfleet officer! How would you have reacted if I sent you a draft of the paper and asked you to give it the once-over, like that’s the only thing you’re good for or something? Besides, you’re way too busy as the Commodore’s Adjutant to bother with that shit.”
Zir frowned. Was Tori right? Would Zir have reacted badly to the request? She had spent years since her life in Starfleet trying to earn respect, to get others to look past her green skin and the notorious reputation of her people within the Federation.
Of course, now they were literally rushing into danger because of ‘Orion crap’. And Tori and Urad and all the others were out here to help her rescue her family, having been put into jeopardy because of Zir’s current position of authority. “I was a real tightass with you guys when we were in Alpha Squad, wasn’t I? Always trying to maintain discipline and make sure no one relaxed or had any fun. I’m sorry about that.”
Tori chuckled now. “Well, you did start out a tightass. But that was just to compensate for everyone else on the team always getting us into trouble: Petey Boy stealing a shuttle to rescue his kid, Flygirl flirting with everything with a pulse, Urad knocking over furniture, Rocky pissing acid when he got scared watching horror movies…” She paused, adding before drinking, “I was your only angel.”
Zir tried to remain deadpan at that. And failed.
*
Sasha woke up, immediately regretting it, her body demanding that her sleep continue. And though Eydiir had then provided her… something… she felt more pained than refreshed, especially when her friend refused to allow her to have more coffee.
So she stayed focused on the plan that had formed in her subconscious, and looked at the rest of them, gathered around the holographic tactical table she had conjured in the midsection, a table now displaying a system that moved and changed with her verbal prompts. “This is THX-1138, an uninhabitable system near Ucarro: typical setup, red dwarf star with four inner rocky worlds and an ice giant on the outer perimeter.
Nothing special about it… except the ice giant has a particularly strong magnetosphere that ships can hide inside undetected; as we know the Green Death is in that specific area, and we can’t detect it anywhere else, we’re heading here.”
“What if they have a cloaking device?” Mru asked.
“They can’t,” Zir pointed out. “Orion ships use chromodynamic deflectors which are incompatible with cloaking technology. I remember hearing from… associates… who were always complaining about all the failed attempts to adapt stolen Klingon and Romulan cloaks.”
Sasha nodded, looking to C’Riir. “Cadet, how’s your Stellar Dynamics?”
The pointy-eared Caitian male started, straightening up like he was back in class. “Brilliant, Ma’am!”
She smiled now; was she ever that earnest at his age? “Good; after this briefing I want you to go to the cockpit and examine the data on the ice giant’s magnetosphere, and create a sensor algorithm to help us track ships when we enter. We’ll continue there under the Prowl, but we’ll need an edge when we’re enmeshed in that disruption field.” She brought up an image of the Green Death, looking at Zir. “Lieutenant? What we talked about before?”
Zir breathed in, nodding as she continued, pointing to sections of the starship. “Natahv-class Blockade Runners like the Green Death have external alcoved sections on the dorsal and ventral sides with retractable blister domes, for storing additional cargo, or contraband that might be too large or dangerous to store internally, and which can be jettisoned quickly to avoid it being caught with it from local authorities. The alcoves also have access hatches into the ship, but they’re rarely used.”
“We’ll draw up to the Orions,” Sasha continued again. “Locate an unused alcove section, retract our wings and enter it, attaching ourselves and using the Tailless’ spy gadgets to hack into their systems through the access hatch controls.”
“Orion ships have anti-transporter field generators,” Zir continued. “To prevent boarding, theft and assassination attempts on the Shipmaster; they shut them down only when they use their own transporters for raids or personal travel. But once connected, we might be able to override it and scan the interior of the Green Death to find my family, to also secretly beam them out.”
Sasha nodded. “And on our departure, we fire a point-blank microtorpedo into their main drive to temporarily disable their systems long enough to let us get the hell out of Dodge. We have a good chance of getting away safely.”
“We’d have a better chance,” Zir added. “If instead of a microtorpedo, we use one of the atomic devices I know you have locked away, and blow them to Hell.”
Sasha, and others, looked to her, Sasha asking, “Excuse me?”
The Orion woman jutted out her chin as she looked around her. “Blow them to Hell. And why not? They’ve attacked Starfleet vessels, kidnapped my family, and they and the rest of the Bel-Zon are threatening the rest of us!”
She focused on Sasha again, the stress and anger building up inside her for the last few days now coming to the surface. “Surinh Dag enslaved Commodore Hrelle, your father, broke him and shaped him into a killing machine for years! Is there any reason why we can’t take the opportunity to finish these bastards off today?”
Mention of her father made Sasha’s jaw tighten, recalling those traumatic, angry nights after Dad had been returned to her, and she became aware of the full horror of what he had undergone all those years in captivity at the hands of Surinh Dag.
But she focused to keep her tone measured, confident, a contrast to the hostility she was receiving. “Several, actually. One: We’re Starfleet. That means we’re many things. Explorers, scientists, doctors, mediators, ambassadors, rescuers, and occasionally, soldiers.
We’re not murderers.
Two: my priority is to get any innocents, namely that family of yours, not to mention ourselves, out of danger. Your parents and brother, and all of us here, are worth any hundred pirates and slavers, and I’m not risking any of us needlessly just for vengeance.
Three: we don’t know how the Bel-Zon would respond to our taking out the Orion ship. They could accelerate their plans, when we’re not yet ready to properly face them.
Oh, and Four: because I said so.” She paused and challenged, “That good enough for you, Lieutenant?”
Zir’s face went taut as well, feeling everyone’s eyes on her, but to her credit - or detriment - she seemed to stick to her proverbial ground. “We may end up regretting that decision, Lieutenant Commander.“
“No, Bubulah, I may end up regretting that decision; in case you missed the memo, this isn’t a democracy, I’m in charge here, all responsibility falls on my mannish shoulders, and I’ve had to stop counting all the regrets I’ve accumulated over the years because the squirrel I’ve got working the controls in my head couldn’t cope with such big numbers.” She looked around again. “Any other questions?”
Urad, sitting on the floor farthest at the table, raised a massive hand. “So, Ma’am, we will not be entering the ship, or engaging in combat?”
She looked at him now, wondering if he was disappointed at that idea, or relieved, as she recalled the doubt that Zir has shown earlier about his recovery status. “Not if everything goes to plan, Ensign. In the meantime, I want you to run an analysis of the weapons systems of the Green Death, with a report on the best tactical responses available for my poor little flyer.
Mr C’Riir, you’ll proceed with the magnetospheric analysis; Ms Dassene, Ms Emoto, cross-check the readings taken by the Surefoot on the Green Death’s potential security firewalls, while Mr Mori double checks our onboard spyware; Ms Eydiir, prep appropriate medications and other equipment you might specifically need for our Orion guests.
Me, I’m gonna sit down and have a shuris burrito, and none of you want to be around for the farts that’ll produce. Dismissed.” She watched everyone leave… except for Eydiir, who remained standing there. “What are you still doing here, Sister From Another Mister?”
Eydiir crossed her arms, “I’m just ensuring that you do not choose to wash down your disgusting repast with anything equally unwelcome, such as coffee… or worse.”
Sasha moved to the replicator. “Don’t worry, I’m sticking to carbonated fruit juice for the duration.”
“Can I trust you?”
She stopped and looked at her. “I swear on my father’s life.”
Eydiir lowered her arms, almost looking disappointed. “Now I must believe you.”
“And so you should… but thanks for the scrutiny. Now scoot, or I’ll downgrade you from Bridesmaid to Flower Girl.”
“Capellans do not ‘scoot’.” But she departed as well.
Sasha smiled at her friend’s concern… and then dropped the smile as she realised she was instinctively ordering a beer to go with her burrito. Without even thinking about it.
A beer wouldn’t be so bad… it’s better than whiskey…
She erased the command.
*
The system looked even more stark and lonely than she expected, especially the ice giant, a dark sentinel that could have been mistaken for a rogue planet, being so far away from its sun.
Using the report from Cadet C’Riir, she piloted the Tailless into the magnetosphere of the giant at a location and vector to minimise the possibility of detection, adjusting the Prowl to compensate for the surrounding interference, before beginning a standard search pattern.
Mru sat in the co-pilot’s seat, with C’Riir and Zir in the seats behind them, all quiet, expectant, as if afraid any stray sound might make them detectable.
Sasha chose to join them in the silence for the moment, relishing the increased alertness that Eydiir’s stimulant cocktail gave her, without any distracting headnoise that her own efforts in the past gave her. You should have got her as your sponsor ages ago, Sash, you dumb junkie… She sat up at an alert on her board. “Vessel, 113 Mark 47, four kilometres distant.”
She felt the buzz from the others, as if they had taken something as well, all eyes on the cockpit windows, looking out at the dark angry swirls, not of an atmosphere, not this far out from a star to allow for a gaseous medium, but of the ship’s computer-generated illustration of the magnetosphere onto the clearsteel surface.
“Approach from the ventral aft side,” Zir reminded her, “Your Prowl and the magnetosphere won’t protect us from being accidentally spotted visually. There’s no windows back there except in the EVA airlocks.”
“Thank you, Ms Dassene, I remember.” As they drew closer, she switched from Autopilot to Manual, not trusting the systems with the surrounding sensor interference. She retracted the wings and glided along the smooth ventral side of the Orion vessel, spotting the target alcove: open, its blister dome fully retracted as it wasn’t carrying any contraband cargo within. Slower, slower… her mind recalling scores of hours of training in shuttle docking operations, sending it to her hands instinctively-
They were attached now. She activated the isomagnetic clamps and shut down the thrusters, ready to reactivate and get the Seven Hells out of there if they were detected.
Nothing.
She breathed out. “Alright, boys and girls, your turn.”
Behind her, Tori and Zir began attempting to access the Green Death’s network via the alcove’s access hatch controls, a tertiary system that in theory should have few security safeguards.
Sasha kept cool, but kept ready to take action: so far, so good, but that meant nothing. They weren’t safe, and wouldn’t be until they were back home with the hostages. Then she could relax with Mru and a huge plate of well-deserved fried shuris pieces and some sweet Fluttertail.
She turned in her chair to look over at him, the blonde-furred Caitian male monitoring the spyware’s status… taking a moment to look up and purr at her.
Oh Fuzzy, you delicious, sexy bastard. Our cubs are gonna move Galaxies-
“We’re in,” Zir reported. “Peripheral systems at the moment, looking for internal sensors and security-”
Sasha and the others started at the shudder that suddenly ran through them, and a whine that travelled through the hull of the flyer. “What’s going on? Have they detected us?” She prepared to detach and flee.
Then Mru reported, “No! They’re starting up their engines!”
“We have limited access to their ship status,” Tori added. “They’re on Alert! Powering up weapons!”
“Can you shut them down?”
“No, those systems have double redundancies, it’d take too long, assuming we can do it at all, and alert them to us long before then!”
Sasha stifled a curse, already thinking ahead to an escape plan… or an attack plan, should they be unable to escape. And based on the tactical analysis of the Green Death’s weaponry from Mr Kaldron, any fight would be short and bitter, for the good guys at least. “Their weapons can’t target us where we are, but we can’t stay clinging to their asscheeks forever! I need more information, people!”
Then the Orion ship, and the flyer attached to them, rapidly departed the magnetosphere of the ice giant and headed into space.
“Wait,” Zir said distractedly, “It’s not us! They’re on the attack, but not for us!”
“Then who?” She nodded to Mru.
He ran a passive sensor sweep. “Federation Merchantfleet transport, the SS Calvera, civilian Oberth class, enroute from Deep Space Twelve, with a listed manifest of eight ship crew, thirty-two civilians, an Academy cadet… and sixty litres of bio-mimetic gel for Salem One’s Hospital.”
She frowned at that last. “Transporting something as valuable as bio-mimetic gel in an Oberth, with an unclassified manifest? Someone needs their ass kicked for that stupidity.”
“How did Surinh Dag find out about it?” Tori asked.
“There was an SI report about the navigational beacons in the sector being compromised,” Zir noted. “If the Green Death tapped into the nearest one, they would have known it was nearby, accessed the manifest, and thought it was too good an opportunity to literally let it pass by.”
“But they must know that attacking the Calvera will draw attention to themselves?” Mru pointed out.
“Maybe they think they’re so close to finishing us off and taking over Salem Sector, they have nothing to lose?” Zir suggested angrily.
Outside the cockpit window, the Orion ship took them to warp.
“We have to warn them,” Tori said. “They can’t defend themselves, or call for help- we’re the help!”
“Yes,” Zir agreed enthusiastically. “We can break off, strike with everything we’ve got-”
“No,” Sasha told them, staring outside, feeling the eyes on the back of her head, calculating who would be the first to-
“Excuse me?” Zir countered incredulously. “We can’t just let them attack the Calvera! We have to intervene, call for backup, defend them-”
“No.” She activated the sensor and visual recorders for evidence as well as analysis, her stomach churning as if reacting to the acrobatics their host vehicle was taking now.
“Goddammit, what the fricking Hell do you think you’re doing?” Tori demanded, “Getting ready to run away?”
Mru turned in his seat, baring his teeth. “Watch how you speak to a superior officer, Ensign!”
Sasha reached out and set a hand on his forearm. “Claws in, Fuzzy.” Then she turned in place to look at the others, understanding their reaction. “Listen to me, all of you: we are in the middle of a vast field almost completely covered in shit. And there’s no direction we can take here that’s gonna keep us from stepping into some of that shit.
If we break off to call for help and wait for it to arrive, the Calvera will still be attacked, and Zir’s family will most likely be killed when we eventually confront them directly. If we attack, odds are we’ll be killed, the Calvera will still be attacked, and Zir’s family remains hostages. And if by some small chance we were successful, the Calvera might be saved, but Zir’s family will be killed along with Surinh Dag and his crew.”
She paused and turned to Zir. “Orion pirates see everything onboard a target vessel as potential profit, including the crew and passengers, and will as a general rule keep casualties to a minimum, yes?”
Zir bristled, as if she was somehow being tricked into denigrating her own people. But she nodded in confirmation. “Assuming they receive a minimum of resistance and do not have to make an example of one or more of them. Then they’ll destroy the target vessel to conceal the evidence. But captives will be assaulted. Physically, sexually-”
“I know,” Sasha snapped, her jaw tightening, her heart racing. “And I would give anything to keep that from happening. But I can’t.” She looked around her. “But I promise you that we’re not just gonna sit here with our thumbs up our asses while all of that is going on. We will continue to try and access their systems. I want a full analysis… not just to locate all the hostages, but to take over the entire ship.”
“Take over?” Mru repeated.
“Yes. We can’t fit the prisoners and the biomimetic gel onto the Tailless, and we can’t just leave them all here, so we’re gonna have to bring them, and Surinh Dag and his crew, back to Salem One on the Green Death. We’re giving the pirates a taste of their own bitter medicine.”
To their credit, no one reacted to her declaration. Aloud.
Sasha half-wished someone would have, and maybe even suggested a better option.
*
The raid was efficient, Sasha gave them that much credit: the Orions swept up on the Calvera from below and behind, hiding in the smaller ship’s warp wake, flooding local subspace with interference to keep them from calling for help, attacking the struts connecting the Oberth-class vessel’s secondary pylon to the Engineering section, making it drop out of warp, before their polaron beams, more precise and less lethal than their disruptors, disabled the Calvera’s phasers.
Transporter beams swept over their prey, even as the Green Death sent a decoy probe transmitting a duplicate transponder signal of the Calvera, in the direction of Salem One, as if nothing has happened. Then, while they were ransacking the other ship, the real Calvera was tractored back into the magnetosphere of the ice giant… and released to burn up, leaving no trace.
Meanwhile her own people continued the delicate task of secretly accessing the Green Death’s systems, learning more and more while avoiding detection.
Sasha, meanwhile, fought to push aside her guilt over her decision. She knew that, tactically, it was the right thing to do, the best chance of everyone getting away alive and intact.
Except she knew that it won’t be everyone. Someone will be hurt, or worse, in the attack, or in some futile attempt to defend themselves when the Orions beamed them onboard.
Many would be raped, a reward for the Orions who performed well for their Shipmaster.
And Sasha could tell herself a thousand times that whatever happens to those people over there, at least they’ll still be alive to have a chance at recovery.
The guilt remained.
So she did what her father had taught her, and channelled that energy towards ensuring that decision worked, and examined the Green Death data as it was obtained, getting a better picture of the interior of the vessel.
And the picture it painted was one of suspicion, to judge from the numerous internal security systems she saw, with the access to the forward third of the ship being restricted to one hatchway, allowing the Shipmaster to seal it off from the rest of the ship. “I can’t find their Auxiliary Control.”
“They don’t have one,” Zir responded. “Less chance of a successful mutiny. That’s also why the Armoury is located next to the Shipmaster’s Quarters in the Forward Section, and sections of the rest of the ship can be isolated by the Bridge with electrified plates, force fields, gas vents-”
“Trusting folk, your people.”
Zir bristled, replying with, “You don’t have to tell me, Lieutenant Commander.”
Then Sasha regretted her own attitude, imagining how much crap the younger woman had taken from others about her people’s reputation, Sasha remembering her own experiences when she joined the Academy, when her father was mistakenly presumed to have been responsible for the deaths of his crew on the Furyk. She was better than that. “Apologies, Lieutenant. Engineering looks pretty secure, too.”
Now it was Tori’s turn to respond. “Yes, Ma’am, though that’s more for health and safety reasons, because of the theta waste, and because their warp nacelles are fully integrated into their spaceframe rather than on nacelle struts.”
“But couldn’t mutineers take over Engineering and gain control from there anyway? Override the Bridge controls, or even threaten to blow up the ship if the Shipmaster and the Bridge crew don’t surrender?”
“Creating manual overrides in Engineering would take time, more time than the Bridge would give them before taking action, and require expertise usually above those assigned to work there anyway, Ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ‘Ma’am’. And the anti-transporter protocols in place mean both sides will have to do what they need to do the hard way. Including us. Fortunately, I like it best when it’s hard… yes, I did say that.” She turned back and keyed in a few commands to her replicator and holographic units. “There’s no sign that they’ve detected us yet?”
“No,” Mru reported. “Intraship activity appears focused on the cargo section, following the raid.”
Sasha stood up, her plan formed. “Everyone to Tactical.”
*
She indicated the holographic display of the Green Death above the tactical display table as she proceeded. “This class of vessel consists of three main sections: the Forward Section, containing the Bridge, Sickbay, Armoury, Officers’ Quarters and other facilities, and it can be rendered fully self-sustaining from the rest of the ship, with access available at only one point on Deck 1 Upper.
The Midsection is twin decked. The Upper Deck contains 28 independently-secure, variable-environment Cargo Units ranging in volume from 75 cubic metres to 1,500, with the corridors arranged in segmented alternating patterns for safety purposes; the hostages, including Zir’s family, will most likely be kept up here. The Lower Deck is only partially habitable at the front by the Crew Quarters, with the rest of the deck containing the Landing Struts, Deuterium Fuel Stores, Waste Recycler Chutes and Weapons Pods Access.
The Aft Section contains Engineering, the Warp Core and Klystron Generator, Access to the integrated nacelles and impulse engines, workshop and EVA Access, and is typically only manned by a skeleton crew. Not the healthiest of environments, I understand, but we won’t be there that long.
We’re splitting into two teams: one to take over Engineering, physically disable the local anti-mutiny security protocols, and set up a makeshift Auxiliary Control to lock everyone in the Forward Section and get us piloted back to Salem One. Once set up, we can connect it to our controls here in the Tailless for more precise control.”
“Not every Orion will be in the Forward Section,” Zir pointed out, “Especially following a successful raid. They’ll be… celebrating.”
“I know, and that’s where Team Two comes in: finding and rescuing your family and the Calvera survivors, securing the Midsection and buying Team One time to complete the takeover.
Lieutenant Dassene will command Team One, and will take Ensign Emoto and Cadet C’Riir for technical support.” She paused and glanced at the young Caitian. “My apologies, Cadet, I know I promised to keep your involvement to a safe minimum, but circumstances have changed. But if you feel you’re not up to it-”
He raised his muzzle up. “No need to apologise, Ma’am, I’m up for anything you might throw at me.”
Sasha grunted. “Watch yourself, Cub, or I might take your word on that. I’ll lead Team Two, with Lt Mori and Ensign Kaldron providing Security support, and Chief Nurse Eydiir for any necessary medical support for the civilians… though I fully expect her to also lend a throwing blade if required.”
“And so you should,” the Capellan quipped crisply.
“Comrade Lieutenant Commander,” Urad spoke up suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention “Perhaps it would be prudent for me to join Lt Dassene’s team to offer Security support?”
Sasha, and others, focused on him now, though she continued to take the lead. “Is there a particular reason why you might suggest that, Ensign?”
“It would let me focus on the command systems,” Zir offered. “To have-”
Sasha raised a finger to cut her off, never taking her glare off Urad. He had seemed eager and ready enough when she first approached him on Salem One to come along. Was he suggesting this now because his two former Alpha Squad members would be in Team One, or was it due to something more fundamental? “I didn’t ask you, Lieutenant. I asked Mr Kaldron.” She paused, before adding, “I’m still waiting for that answer.”
He raised his muzzle to her, his dark eyes widening. “I… I withdraw my suggestion, Comrade Lieutenant Commander. Please excuse the interruption.”
She breathed in. Sash, if he’s not ready for actual combat, then he could be a liability with you when you take on the bulk of the Orion crew. And also, you don’t have to be an asshole to someone still trying to recover from a Galaxy-sized trauma, Miss Addictive Personality. “Actually, it would be a good idea for you to be with Team One, in case of the unexpected; it seems to be the theme for this mission. But if we need you, I expect you to answer the call. Is that clear?”
The huge Security Officer looked visibly relieved, as he nodded. “Of course, Comrade Lieutenant Commander.”
She breathed out; they were wasting time, time no one could afford, especially not the Calvera hostages. “We won’t have transporters but we will have secure communications, once Chief Nurse Eydiir injects us with some Embeds. I’ve opened up the Tailless’ weapons and equipment lockers for your use, there’s also ablative armour and some non-standard goodies… including a few for you, Mr Kaldron, freshly replicated in the back, so help yourselves.
We’re alone out here, outnumbered, and the enemy is ruthless, so I want all of you to take any steps necessary to protect yourselves and each other. Our mission has grown more complicated, but not impossibly so. We do have one advantage: that they won’t be expecting anyone to be so crazy as to try something like this.”
Suit up, I want us through that access hatch in fifteen minutes. Dismissed.”
She left them to return to the cockpit, checking on a means of letting Salem One know about the change of plans, perhaps by a marker- no, the magnetosphere was too strong for any object smaller than the Tailless-
“Sash?”
She turned to Mru, not in the mood for further arguments. “Look, I wish I could keep C’Riir out of danger, but he seems capable enough-”
He held up a paw to cut her off. “I’m not here about him.”
“Oh? Well, I thought Ensign Kaldron was ready for this, clearly he’s not, it’s my fault, I fucked up there-”
He drew closer. “I’m not here about him either, Sash.”
She frowned, bemused and impatient. “Well then, if you’re looking for a quickie, Fuzzy, you have shit timing, I feel as dry as the Pakui Desert down there right now-”
She stopped when he touched her arm, his eyes wide and open. “I just want to tell you, in no particular order: you are an amazing warrior and an inspiring leader, you are doing wonderfully, I’ve got your back, and all your other bits, and I love you, so very much.”
Sasha breathed in the words, more vital to her right now than oxygen, and embraced him.
“And if you’re not up for a quickie,” he whispered, “I’ll settle for some Oral-”
She smacked the back of his head. “I’m so telling your mothers on you...”
