Green Death, Aft Section - Engineering:
Gizzor grunted as he finished the decontamination and stepped out of the shower unit, a rather unpleasant experience of tri-recycled water and dirty towels but which beat the even more unpleasant experience of theta radiation poisoning, a common health hazard among Stokers like himself.
It was even more hazardous on this ancient hulk of a ship, whose Shipmaster was content to spend more on the weapons and the fineries for himself and his new master Surinh Dag than on safety improvements to the waste extraction systems back here. Of course, that was his prerogative, and if the Gods of Fortune ever smiled on Gizzor enough to get him his own ship, he would probably do the same.
His shift had been about to end when the Bridge went on an impromptu raid, no doubt collecting a sweet haul of latinum and slaves for the officers and the favoured members of the crew. And that Chief Engineer scum Jarev refused to let him leave until he cleaned up. Again.
He left the shower stall a mess though as he dressed and sneaked out of Engineering, knowing that by the time he gets one of the leftovers, she’ll have already been pumped by at least thirty of the crew-
He stopped in the corridor at the sight of the tall, beautiful, red-haired Orion woman in the tight-fitting black jumpsuit, one he had never seen before onboard, making his bloodshot eyes and his blistered mouth widen; so that’s what the officers keep for themselves up front. “Please tell me you’re here for me.”
“I am.” She drew up to him and shot her outstretched fingers out, striking the soft portions of his throat. Pain and shock rushed through him, and before he passed out, he felt her twist his arm behind him and slam him into the corridor wall…
Zir wiped her hands on her trousers and drew her Security tricorder from her equipment belt, aiming it towards the open doorway into Engineering. “Six still inside.”
Her earpiece chirped with Urad’s voice. “You need me now, Zir?”
She kept her eyes on the tricorder screen, as her free hand reached for the object in another pocket on her thigh. “Stand by.” She drew closer to the doorway, still watching the screen, watching the blips move seemingly at random around the interior, sometimes one or two converging, sometimes three, before splitting up again. Come on, you bastards, get together, make this easy, the odds are already stacked so much against us, and we’re relying on the overall tactical prowess of an unstable addict-
They suddenly assembled near the Klystron Generator.
Thank you… she activated the stun grenade, judged the distance one more time and twisted into the doorway, rolling the grenade into the room and dipping behind the doorway once more-
A blinding yellow flash made her squeeze her eyes shut, even as she replaced her tricorder with her phaser. “Move in!”
She swept inside, phaser pointed ahead of her, the layout of the interior as expected from the scans and her own memories of an identical environment, but this one featuring a half-dozen Orion males in grimy workclothes slumped insensate around the column of the Generator, some on top of each other as if sleeping off a particularly raucous party.
Directly behind her, Urad entered, partially clad in non-Standard body armour that protected his shoulders, chest and forearms, and sported a massive plasma gun that looked too heavy for Zir to even drag. As Tori and Cadet C’Riir followed, flanking him, Urad looked down at the unconscious bodies. “How long will they-”
“A couple of hours, minimum. There’s an equipment locker and decon shower for the theta waste environmental suits behind you; use the webspray to secure them, and stack them in there, add the one I left in the corridor. After we take control, we can move them into a Cargo Bay and lock them in.” She pointed to the workstations in the far corner. “Tori, C’Riir, get to work, there’ll be updates and communications from the Bridge to respond to, on top of setting up an Auxiliary Control station. Scan the recorded logs, identify their Chief Engineer’s vocal patterns and rig a voder for me to use. ”
She reached for the sensor set from another equipment harness. “I’ll set up the proximity alarms down the corridor, then begin accessing the internal security network to find my family’s location for Team Two-”
“Comrade Zir?”
She had been starting towards the doorway, before the tone in Urad’s voice made her stop and turn around again. “What is it?”
The Hroch Security officer was on one knee beside one of the fallen Orions nearest the Generator. He had the tip of one thick finger pressed against the Orion’s neck, before looking up. “This one is dead.”
Tori and C’Riir stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the scene. Zir quickly switched the interface on her tricorder and approached, scanning, her heart racing as she read the results. “You’re right… intracerebral haemorrhage from neuroleptic shock… but the effects of the stun grenade shouldn’t have caused that…”
“It might have been the Generator, Zir,” Tori suggested. “If he was touching it when the grenade went off, it could have triggered an additional power surge that would have made all the difference. Looking at what passes for safety features around here, I’m surprised we’re not stepping over more bodies.”
Maybe, Zir conceded to herself, but the fact remains that he’s still dead, and she played a part in it.
On the other hand, I wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t abducted my family, and now the crew and passengers of the Calvera… they brought it on themselves… She straightened up, holstering her tricorder. “Put him in with the living ones in the locker room.”
Urad frowned. “You want to treat him the same as the others?”
“Well, he won’t need restraining now.” She turned to the others, her expression tightening. “Get back to work! We won’t have long before the Bridge is alerted!”
*
When he was just a Sprout, more years ago than he cared to count, Douzu remembered playing Pirate with his friends in the back streets of his neighbourhood, using some abandoned, burned-out aircar wreck as their starship, and they would always fight over who would get to play the Shipmaster, the Master Gunner, the Pack Leader and the Pilot.
Afterwards, while nursing his wounds, his Grandfather would chuckle and tell him, “Why do you waste your time craving those roles? The real power and the fortune lies with the Quartermaster, like I used to do! They seek out the wealthy marks, assess the risks and profits, and when the prey have been pilfered, they get first pick of the sweet booty!”
Douzu never thought much of Grandfather’s words at the time – where was the fun in keeping the books? – until he grew up to join the Trader’s Fleet, and finally saw the wisdom in them. Let others revel in the transitory glory of command, flight and armoury operations. For just a little bit of work, he lived well, and had influence over the crew that even the First Mate didn’t. He expanded his skillset, and maybe later, if he could afford to be his own Shipmaster, he can make sure that the Quartermaster he employs won’t cheat him.
He smiled to himself once again as he looked over today’s booty. Not the bio-mimetic gel – that was locked away, its value in the markets back home clear from the start – or the replacement electronic components and other goods taken, but the living plunder: the surviving crew and passengers of the Calvera, huddled together in the corner of the cargo hold interior, quiet and compliant after the guards made a painful example of some of the sturdier, prouder ones.
He strode up to them, thumbs tucked into the top of his wide leather belt, gaze narrowing as he looked at each of the thirty-six here who survived the attack. Humans, Bolians, Rigellians, Trill, an Andorian. Male, female. Old, young, parents, children. On sight alone, he could instantly assess their value at the Markets, down to a few Strips of Gold Pressed Latinum, like he could with inanimate plunder.
Douzu did well tonight. He would treat himself. “Former citizens of the Federation: welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives. And your lives have now achieved an enviable simplicity, by following One Simple Rule. And that rule is to forget about your past, embrace your future, and pain will remain a memory-”
He stopped as a middle-aged Terran woman, a stocky female with short-cropped sable hair, and dressed in a utilitarian blue jumpsuit with Federation Merchantfleet insignia, stepped forward. She sported a black eye and a bruised lip. “Are you the Captain here?”
He regarded her, recognising her from the acquired crew manifest as Rosenda Monteros, the former Pilot of the Calvera: Human, Female, Skilled. Market Value Estimate: 66 Bars, 11 Strips GPL. “We call them Shipmasters, and no, I am not, though I have almost as much authority. And if you’re seeking to waste my time by protesting our actions-”
“The Starfleet Cadet,” she interrupted. “What happened to her?”
Douzu offered a cold smile at the look of concern on her face; he had seen it before from humans in positions of authority, a protective peculiarity of the species. “Your concern over others is an extravagance you can ill-afford, Slave; better to worry about keeping yourself alive and well.
As for Cadet…” He paused to remember the name from the manifest. “Cadet Trythi… she refused to see the folly of continued resistance, and injured several of us upon your capture. Now Pack Leader Thorrarc and several of his men are helping her see reason… while also taking their share of the day’s successful operation from her furry flesh.”
Monteros scowled in tight outrage. “She’s just a kid! She was only trying to protect the rest of us!”
“And you saw how that worked out for you. As for Cadet Trythi, her poor little head filled with all that nasty, useless Starfleet propaganda, this will ultimately be for her benefit… if she survives Thorrarc’s tender mercies. And I genuinely hope she does; I don’t think we’ve encountered her species before. She’ll make a great pet once sufficiently broken.” He smiled. “Or a rug.”
“Puta Madre-”
Douzu swung out his fist, smacking Monteros across the face and making the other slaves react with alarm. He ignored them to focus on the Pilot, noting with approval how she had remained on her feet, and still kept from fully losing her temper. You’ll do well in your new life with us, Rosenda. I might even add an extra ten percent to your estimated value.
He turned away, regarding the rest of the new slaves, reassessing their value for those whom he would lend out to the crew for their pleasure, factoring in the expected depreciation, which was still a better recompense than giving the crew a greater share of the eventual profits. He pointed to several selected ones within the group. “Take them to the crew barracks.”
Even as guards moved in, and the ones he had selected drew back together into the crowd for the illusion of protection, he focused on one girl: short, coffee-skinned and coffee-eyed, with strong cheekbones and clad in modest dark blue clothes and headscarf. “Nova Adrisi?”
She started at the sound of her name, but stood her ground and said nothing.
He smiled, continuing. “Nova Adrisi, born in Hammer Bay, Madripoor, Earth, travelling alone to reunite with your mother, Lt Cmdr Dona Adrisi, currently assigned to the Academy Annex at Station Salem One.” He paused, asking, “Am I right?”
She shook off the cautionary hand on her shoulder from one of the other slaves as she announced with a crisp Madripoori accent, “I do not speak to criminals.”
Now he chuckled. 12-year-old Terran female, healthy, intelligent, spirited. Pretty, quickly blossoming into womanhood.
With her virginity intact: 92 Bars, 9 Strips GPL.
Without her virginity: 80 Bars, 15 Strips.
Worth the depreciation, if her cuksir is as tight as her attitude.
Anyway, sometimes he liked giving himself expensive presents. “Come with me, girl.”
“Leave her alone!” someone in the crowd demanded. The outrage, the defiance, began to rise among the slaves.
Douzu expected this, and budgeted for it. He looked through the crowd, finding the one he was looking for, an elderly Andorian male with heavily-wrinkled blue skin and drooping antennae. Old, slow, infirm, set in his ways, difficult to condition and train: 6 Bars, at best. He pointed to him. “Beat that one to death in front of the others as an example.”
The guards that weren’t collecting the women went for the Andorian, striking anyone standing in their way.
“Don’t!” Idrisi stepped forward boldly, right up to Douzu. She swallowed as she looked up at him, clearly fearful of him and her situation, but fighting it. “I will go with you freely. You do not have to hurt him. You don’t have to hurt anyone.”
He smiled, reached out and stroked her cheek. His hand lingered, fingertips now brushing over her soft, dark-red lips, making them part slightly.
He looked forward to exploring the rest of her.
His hand moved around to clasp her by the back of her neck, guiding her towards the door. Over his shoulder, he called back, “Beat him to death anyway, and then send the marked ones to the barracks.”
Idrisi stopped in her tracks. “I said I’d go freely with you!”
He tightened his grip on the child and forced her onward, informing her, “Slaves can’t do anything ‘freely’.”
But as they stepped outside, she broke loose from him and ran blindly down the corridor towards the aft of the ship. He smiled and gave chase, catching up and grabbing her by the scruff of her clothes before she reached a corner, and then slamming her face into the nearest wall, leaving a red bloodstain on the surface before letting her collapse to the floor.
He turned her around to face him, her nose broken and blood covering her face, before straddling her, aware of how aroused he was now from her spirited resistance. “You could have lost your virginity relatively painlessly, Slave. Now, I’m going to split you wide open-”
He paused as a shadow shrouded him from above.
He looked up to see a human female, not one of the Calvera plunder. She was tall, muscular, pale-skinned, blonde-haired, fury-faced, clad in black armoured combat gear and bristling with weapons, the principal one a long black-bladed sword held in her grasp.
Douzu froze, his eyes fixed on the sword, his appraiser’s eye instantly taking it all in: nanosharp, exotic alloy, elaborate and intricate Caitian design on the crossguard, grip and pommel, obvious provenance and excellent craftsmanship… I could easily get two hundred bars-
The rest of his thought, and his life, fled when the swordswoman snarled and drove the blade deep into his chest, through his heart and out the back, plunging straight through him as if he wasn’t there.
*
He was dead when Sasha withdrew the blade, grabbed him by his clothes and lifted his body off of the girl, dragging him away and out of sight, even as Eydiir knelt down beside the girl to examine and treat her, and Sasha nodded to Mru, both of them proceeding forward to the cargo bay doorway, Sasha drawing her phaser in her free hand as they entered.
Screams of protest and panic filled the room, as she saw some Orion guards armed with stunstaffs dragging women away from the main crowd of captives, beating anyone who tried to resist, while another guard had an elderly Andorian on the floor in front of them, pummelling him mercilessly.
Sasha shot that guard first, turning to the others in quick succession, assisted by Mru. Panic rose among the hostages, as if a fresh threat had arrived, until Sasha announced loudly, “I’m Lt Cmdr Hrelle, from Starfleet! Are there any crew here from the Calvera?”
A middle-aged human woman in a Merchantfleet jumpsuit and sporting a bruised face stepped forward… fighting to take her gaze away from the bloodied sword still in Sasha’s grip. “Rosenda Monteros, Pilot.”
Sasha made the effort to sheath her sword again. “What about your Captain?”
The woman paled. “Captain Wallach didn’t make it. Lost others, too.”
Sasha’s gut twisted. More deaths today, because of your decisions… “I’m sorry.” She stopped as she looked back to see Eydiir enter, carrying the girl in her arms and setting her down on the floor. Seven Hells, Sash, were you too late for her too? “Eydiir?”
The Capellan glanced back at her, before moving on to the other injured among the rest. “Broken nose, mild concussion, I can repair both, she will recover.”
“Are you here to rescue us?” someone in the crowd asked.
Others joined in to ask, but Sasha stayed focused on Monteros. “We were here on a different mission when the Orions attacked your ship, but we’re going to do everything we can to get everyone out of here as well. Speaking of which, have you seen any other hostages? An Orion family?”
“An Orion family?” Monteros shook her head. “No, but there’s a Starfleet cadet travelling with us, she was fighting the Greenbacks, wouldn’t stop, even when they were beating her. They- They… they took her away-”
Sasha’s jaw tightened, as she reached for her Security tricorder. “Where did they take her? What race is she? Human?”
“I don’t know where, and Cadet Tythri, she- she’s not human, she’s… furry. Slim and furry, like, well, a giant ferret or mongoose- is that racist of me to say that?”
“I’ll ask her when I find her.” She knelt and searched the guards, collecting the stunstaffs and thinking ahead.
Monteros looked at Mru and Eydiir warily. “Uh, is there more than just the three of you?”
“Yes.” She tapped her Embed comlink. “Hrelle to Dassene: status?”
“Engineering secured, we’ve not been detected yet, work continues on setting up an Auxiliary Control. Have you freed my family yet?”
“Negative, but they’re next on my list. We’ve found and freed almost all of the Calvera hostages; Eydiir will be guiding them back to you. But you’d better be ready, the Bridge can detect us at any time. Once they do, send Mr Kaldron to join us. ”
“Acknowledged. Dassene out.”
Sasha turned back to Monteros. “Our own ship isn’t big enough to take all of you back, so we’re taking over this one instead.”
The other woman blinked. “Just like that?” She indicated the stunned Orions. “There might be hundreds of these Greenbacks onboard!”
“Actually, there’s only about eighty. Get everyone ready to follow Chief Nurse Eydiir to the aft of the ship, it’ll be safer for all of you, you’ll find Lt Dassene in command of the Engineering Team.” She paused and added, “As a heads-up, Lt Dassene is Orion, so watch the Greenback talk, ’coz that’s definitely racist, and if she doesn’t get the respect she deserves, you’ll answer to her and me.”
Now she turned back to the doorway into the corridor, where Mru crouched at a corner, ears twitching as he listened intently down towards the fore of the ship, before looking up at her, reporting. “Nothing.”
Sasha drew out her tricorder, re-familiarising herself with the layout, while overlaying sensor readings for Orion and non-Orion lifeforms; it was proving difficult, with the security settings on some of these cargo bays causing interference. She noted the location where they suspected Zir’s family was being held. Jesus, it looked kilometres away… “Get the defences set up here, near the first juncture, it’s a good vantage point. I’m going for the Cadet and Zir’s family.”
“On your own? That close to the forward section? The crew barracks down below?”
She frowned as she spotted a non-Orion reading, just ahead and in a side section. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on them. But be ready for the alarms.”
“Sasha!”
She had been starting down the corridor, but stopped and looked back at him.
Mru’s eyes were narrowed intensely as he growled, “If I think you’re in trouble, I’m coming for you, teeth and claws bared, and I don’t give a shit if it’s sexist or insubordinate of me. You’re my woman. You got that, Tailless?”
She blinked, unable to find a quip or a reassurance that she would be fine, because they both knew that was something she couldn’t promise. And it frightened the shit out of her.
So instead, she relented with a rub of the side of her face against his muzzle and, “Yes, Fuzzy. I am your woman.”
Then she was off, phaser in hand, following the tricorder readings for the non-Orion lifeforms; the cadet was closer, she would rescue the poor kid. Goddammit, they would be making an example of her right now, she’ll be a wreck-
She froze and raised her phaser as a door just ahead of her slid open, and a naked Orion male bleeding copiously from many wounds staggered out, spasming blindly against the opposite wall before slumping to the floor, arterial spurts from his neck and thighs quickly subsiding in tandem with his life.
A bestial snarl and choked cries for mercy escaped from the room, and Sasha rushed up, phaser first.
She looked in to see a living quarters in disarray, a second Orion male bloodied and dead on the floor, and a third still alive, with a long, thin, tailless mustelid figure with its limbs wrapped around him, clinging to him from behind, its jaw clamped on the male’s neck, its hands moving up to rub its palms on the Orion’s chartreuse face-
Suddenly the Orion cambered forward, copiously vomiting the contents of his stomach. And what looked like actual bits of his stomach as well.
Sasha watched with a mixture of nausea, horror and fascination, but when the Orion’s attacker looked prepared to finish him off, Sasha called out, “That’s enough, Cadet, he’s down for the count!”
The mustelid released her clamp on his neck, only to look up at Sasha and open her bloody jaw and make a guttural challenge, tiny claws bared on her paws, reminding Sasha of a Caitian in the throes of bloodlust.
Sasha stood her ground. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Sasha Hrelle, First Officer, USS Katana, Starfleet! Is that how you respond to a superior officer?”
Immediately she stopped growling and stood to attention above the fallen Orion, the furred figure displaying a dark Academy dress uniform with Security Gold trim, now ruined with rips… and Orion blood. Her figure was indeed slim, her head sporting large round ears flanking beady black eyes, and she had to spit out Orion flesh from her mouth before she could reply with the automatic, “Ma’am! Third Year Security Cadet Lock Trythi, Reporting As Ordered! I am from Sancarus II, the Jewel of the Mel Cevu Cluster, Vanguard of the Balelkess, Defeater of the Khas Dustauter, Sovereign of-”
“Don’t call me Ma’am.” Sasha grunted as she holstered her phaser; so much for the kid being a wreck…
*
Surinh Dag’s projection regarded with some satisfaction the sight of Zir Dassene in her quarters, glaring with undisguised hostility, as she provided the latest Command Codes. “Alpha-Sierra-Sierra-47-1-3 Vector.”
He smiled slightly, regarding her. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I will see you again this time tomorrow. Unless, of course, we choose to attack today.”
She didn’t react.
“No more threats to come after me? No more attempts to bargain or plead for your family’s lives??”
She continued to glower. “I have to get back to work. You don’t want me to raise suspicions with Commodore Hrelle or the rest of the senior staff, do you? Then they might suspend or remove me, and I’ll be useless to you.”
He nodded… frowning himself now. “Very sensible. Get going.”
Then he ended the long-distance transmission, seeing the Shipmaster’s Quarters reappear around him, and Nesrac Sur studying his partner’s expression. “What is it?”
The older Orion made a gesture towards the drinks cabinet, prompting Nuvauth to rush over and prepare him a shot. “The Little Traitor seemed… not herself.”
Nesrac Sur shrugged. “Guilt over betraying her oath, perhaps?”
He accepted the proffered glass without looking at the slave. “Or… fear over betraying us.” He paused to sip at the whiskey. “Maybe she’s told Hrelle about our secret arrangement? Maybe we’re being played?”
The younger Orion sat up straight now. “But the Bel-Zon isn’t ready to attack! Not for another five, six days you said! Should we inform Bastien?”
“Absolutely not; the human will only panic, tell Zorin… and we’ll be on the receiving end of his wrath. No, tomorrow when I contact her, I’ll have her father with me again… and I’ll break his neck before her eyes. I should have done it before, really, to drive away any doubt as to the power we have over her-”
An alert from the Bridge made both Orions stop and proceed there, Nesrac Sur barking, “Report!”
His Master Gunner stepped back from his console. “Sorry to disturb you, nothing serious, just a lock malfunction on Cargo Bay 28.” He paused and added, “The cell we modified for the family we took from Orion-”
“I know that, bottlehead!” Nesrac shoved him aside and examined the readings. “Probably one of those knuckle-draggers from the lower decks broke the lock looking to screw the Dassene woman-”
“Run a full security sweep,” Surinh Dag growled. “Now.”
The Shipmaster glanced at him, hearing something in his comrade’s tone, and moved his fingers over the command board, his voice laced with apprehension. “There… There are diagnostics running on sensors, security, corridor airlocks.” He looked up angrily at his Gunner. “Who initiated diagnostics?”
“No one here, Sire! I swear!”
“He didn’t,” Surinh Dag conjectured. “It’s a cloak, for someone taking over our systems. Viewscreens!”
He brought up several visuals, one being the Cargo Bay where the new slaves had been placed, now empty, except for some fallen Orions, and then another… with the bloodied bodies of several more Orion crewmen on the floor outside of where the Starfleet cadet had been taken for punishment.
“Gods,” Nesrac Sur breathed. “The new slaves must have revolted!” He was about to set off a shipwide Alert-
“Wait,” Surinh Dag started, examining the bodies at 20 again. “Sound no alarm, not an overt one anyway.” He pointed to the massacre onscreen. “That bestial Starfleet cadet we picked up might have done that – I could use her in the Deathmatches – but she couldn’t have freed the rest of the new slaves on her own. Or secretly accessed our systems.”
*
Mru caught the scent of blood overlaid on an unfamiliar musk, and tensed. It wasn’t Orion, but could they be employing other races?
Then Sasha’s voice sounded in his head though his Embed. “I’ve found Cadet Trythi, and I’m sending her back your way, so don’t shoot her.”
He tapped the point on his furry neck under which the implant sat. “Does she need medical assistance?”
“She doesn’t; anyone who crosses her does. She’s fierce, as she will confirm herself. Send her back to join the others and get checked out by Eydiir anyway… just don’t shake paws with her. I’m going for Zir’s family now, Hrelle out.”
Mru frowned at the cryptic description, resisting the urge to call her back for an explanation as he heard the sound of footfalls ahead, rapid- where there two sets? Did Sasha decide to come back with her? Why-
Then he saw her – the twin sets of footfalls explained by Trythi running towards him on all fours. A quadruped? He wasn’t aware of any quadruped races before-
The figure skidded to a sudden halt before him, rising upright to attention. “Sir! Third Year Security Cadet Lock Trythi, Reporting As Ordered!”
Mru lowered his weapon as he regarded her, the obvious source of the strong musk: a slim, obviously flexible furred figure, not Caitian or like other races he had encountered; this one was more tube-shaped, with a thick neck and round ears, and a rapid, jumpy manner, one born not from anxiety but alertness. “I’m Lt Mru Mori. At ease, Cadet.”
“Yes, Sir.” She nodded, sniffing the air between them. “You are… Antican?”
“Caitian.” He pointed behind him. “Follow the corridors to the Engineering Section in Aft, introduce yourself to Lt Dassene, get examined by Chief Nurse Eydiir, and remain there to assist them.”
Trythi bristled. “Sir, no, Sir! With respect, I should stay here and assist you! I have already proven myself willing and able to engage with the Enemy! I am fierce! I am from Sancarus II, the Jewel of the Mel Cevu Cluster, Vanguard of the Balelkess, Defeater of the Khas Dustauter, Sovereign of-”
Mru held up a paw to cut her off. “I have no doubt. Are you also insubordinate? Because your orders come from Lt Cmdr Hrelle. And if you think you’re fierce, just defy her orders and see what happens. Or better yet… don’t.”
*
Vissol Dassene hated the silence. And there was plenty of it in this cell of theirs. And this was a cell, as furnished and equipped with living facilities and a hygiene chamber and shower unit and even an entertainment centre.
His son Haikiv had settled into the routine imposed upon them by their captors, once the initial shock of their abduction had settled in, content to spend much of his waking time listening to music on his headphones, seemingly oblivious to how precarious all their futures were. It was an ignorance Vissol envied.
His wife Dishu, however, did not wallow in nescience. She was fully aware of the reason behind their current situation, especially after Vissol had engaged in that long-distance conversation with their daughter Zir. And she had chosen to sink into a silence of sullenness, existing here beside her husband and son, but only really communicating with the latter, despite Vissol’s attempts.
They had been here only for a few days. It felt like months now. Almost certainly their home, their business, would have been looted, once word got around about what had happened.
He sat in the chair in the corner of the cell, staring across to where his wife reclined on their bed, focused on mending rips and holes in some crewmember’s workclothes better than they could do themselves. After their abduction, she had managed to bargain her skills at repair for some leisure items, and it had bought them some small luxuries… and it gave her something to do besides communicate with her husband.
It was intolerable. And the recent obvious activity outside their cell, obviously indicative of some raid or combat by the Green Death, reminded him of how quickly their circumstances could change, and for the worse… as strange as it might have seemed on the surface. “Dishu…”
She never answered, never looked up, just continued to work away, as if she was still in the back of their shop, fixing another hole in one of Haikiv’s trousers.
“Dishu…” he repeated, gentle but insistent. “We have to talk.”
She pressed the microstitcher along another tear in the shirt in her hands. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“I talked with Zir.”
She didn’t respond.
“Surinh Dag let me speak to her at length,” he continued. “To confirm my identity to her. She’s tall. Taller than me now, with a full head of hair. And she looks strong, healthy. And mature, authoritative, commanding, in her Starfleet uniform. You’d actually be proud of our daughter-”
“I have no daughter.”
The declaration stung, despite his expecting it. When they had discovered Zir had fled their home, their very world, years before, leaving behind only a letter addressed to them, trying to explain her reasons, Vissol was devastated, couldn’t fully understand his little girl’s decisions.
But, in the years since, he began to see what Zir had meant: the corruption, the criminals, the slavery in their society. He had never been enamoured of such things, had never participated in any of it himself, but what could he do about everyone else, or their world?What could anyone do about it?
Zir did something about it. She left. And though he missed her terribly, still felt that ache at her actions, in time he accepted it, and silently wished her well, wherever she was.
Dishu, however, had taken it personally, a betrayal by Zir against their society in general, and their family in particular. Once the shock of Zir’s disappearance had passed, and they had all accepted that she wouldn’t be coming back, she refused to talk about their daughter, to Vissol, Haikiv or anyone else.
And Vissol, to his shame, let her have her way.
No longer. “Yes, Dishu… you do. You carried her, you nursed and changed and dressed and taught her. You loved her. And you wanted nothing but happiness for her-”
Dishu turned to him, her olive face darkening with pained ire. “I don’t want to talk about her!”
“We have to! We have to clear the air about Zir! We’ve left so much unspoken, all this time! It hasn’t been fair, not to Haikiv, or to us, or to Zir either!”
She threw aside her mending tools and sat up fully. “Don’t talk about what’s fair! She’s the reason we’re here! The reason they took us from our home, our world! If she hadn’t been so selfish and left us all those years ago, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”
Nearby, Haikiv took off his headphones and stared at them. “What’s going on?”
Vissol stayed focused on his wife, rising to his feet. “You can’t blame Zir for this! She’s being used, just like us, by that cuksir pirate Surinh Dag!”
“Watch your language in front of Haikiv!” Dishu pointed at her son. “Put your music back on!”
“Is this about Zir? Is she bringing Starfleet to rescue us?”
“No!” Dishu snapped.
“Yes!” Vissol countered, as much for himself as for their son. “She promised me that she and Starfleet were coming to help us!”
“And you believed her?” his wife sneered. “Believe all that propaganda about Starfleet being some virtuous organisation out to help others? You’re a bigger fool than I imagined! They’re no different to the Orion Trader Fleet or the Klingons! They’re like everyone else in the Galaxy! Only out for themselves!”
The locking mechanism on the cell door suddenly flared with an energy overload, and a second later, the door itself slid open, and all three Orions reacted to the entrance of a pale-skinned human female with blonde hair and blue eyes, clad in black armoured clothes and carrying a weapon, the human lowering her weapon immediately as she regarded them. “The Dassenes, I presume? I’m Lt Cmdr Hrelle, Starfleet, I’m here with your daughter Zir, we’re here to rescue you!”
The three Orions froze.
Then Dishu stabbed a finger at her husband. “Don’t say a word. Don’t say a damn word…”
*
“Hrelle to Dassene: we’ve freed your family! They’re alive and well, and we’re sending them back to join you, along with the cadet!”
Zir’s heart skipped a beat. They were okay? And coming to join her? She couldn’t stop smiling. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. The Calvera survivors have arrived, we’re moving them to the safest place available, and continuing work on the Auxiliary Control. Dassene out.”
She breathed out, focused on her job, motioning the Calvera survivors as they poured in from the front of the Green Death, into the empty workshop they found. Remember what they just sent through, Zir, thanks to your people. It’s nothing personal.
It never is. All those leers, all those insults and invasions of her privacy and integrity since starting her life in Starfleet. The hormonal implant she agreed to accept, seemingly to suppress any mind-influencing pheromones she might produce, even though she knew such abilities were in fact rare among her people and she certainly wasn’t one of them. Not everyone treated her like that, of course, which made those instances when they did stand out more.
Zir realised she had been spoiled, coddled, living and working under Commodore Hrelle’s incredible benevolence and understanding.
“Zir,” Tori interrupted, continuing and pointing at the screen as Zir joined her, “I think they know we’re here. They’re bypassing the alert system but diverting power to their security and transporter systems-”
Immediately Zir activated her Embed again. “Dassene to Hrelle: the Bridge knows we’re here!”
A pause, and then Sasha responded with, “Acknowledged, Lieutenant. When your family and Cadet Trythi arrives, send Urad up to join us. Hrelle out.”
Zir turned to C’Riir. “Have you worked out the warp core ejection system yet, Cadet?”
The young pointy-eared Caitian nodded. “Yes, Ma’am, and I think I’ve succeeded in locking out the Bridge from it!”
“Good; if someone’s going to stop us dead in our tracks, I want it to be us-”
“Zir?”
She spun in place, her eyes widening at the sound of her Papa’s voice. Her family stood together at the doorway into Engineering, looking as shocked and disbelieving as she felt. Papa… Mama… Baby Brother Haikiv, so tall and grown-up!
She drew up to them, almost hesitantly, as if afraid to break what might be some illusion. Gods, after all these years… she never thought she would see them in the flesh again… “Papa? Mama?” She smiled at Haikiv. “Baby Brother…”
“Zir…” He started towards her-
-Until their mother grabbed him by the elbow, keeping him close, the cold anger on her face obvious, without her saying a word.
Zir was confused… until she wasn’t. You haven’t forgiven me for running away like I did. And your hatred will only be compounded by how you all became pawns in the Bel-Zon’s schemes against us… and I can hardly blame you for any of that.
But Papa stepped forward, the emotions on his face equally clear, and uncontrollable, as he raced up and embraced his daughter fully, fiercely.
Zir hugged him back, tears welling up in her eyes – it felt just like it did the last time she held him! – even as she felt Haikiv join them. Leaving only Mama distant. In every sense of the word.
Then she looked past her family to the furred figure in the bloodied, ragged uniform, and drew back to face them. “Gods, Cadet, are you alright?”
The figure bolted to attention. “Ma’am, Third Year Security Cadet Lock Trythi, Reporting As Ordered! I am fine, and ready to continue the fight! I am from Sancarus II, the Jewel of the Mel Cevu Cluster, Vanguard of the Balelkess, Defeater of the Khas Dustauter, Sovereign of-”
“Uh, never mind.” She pointed to the workshop door. “Find Chief Nurse Eydiir in there, get yourself checked out. Afterwards, if you’re still up for it, come back out here, meet a member of the Cadet Squad you’ll be joining on Salem One, and then get a chance to continue the fight. Now go.”
“Yes, Ma’am!” She smiled eagerly and rushed into the workshop.
“‘Ma’am’?” Haikiv echoed as Trythi departed, looking up at his big sister with awe. “Are you in command?”
She nodded, smiling slightly. “I’m a commissioned officer in Starfleet, and Adjutant to Commodore Hrelle, part of the Senior Staff on Station Salem One.”
“Wow…”
“Treason pays well among the kafirlirs,” Mama muttered.
Zir started, as did her father, but she didn’t have time to argue further. “Look, um, I’m in the middle of something, I need you three to go into that workshop and wait with the others, it’ll be safer in there for now.”
Papa looked ready to contest that… but then he nodded in understanding. “Of course, Zir. You go do what you need to do.” He took his son by the hand, turned and motioned to his wife. After a moment when it looked like Mama might be defiant just for stubbornness’ sake, she relented and followed the rest of the family.
Gods, Mama, did I hurt you that much?
Then she turned, seeing the others staring at her, before resuming their duties, except for Urad, who stood there, appearing distracted by the overhead architecture. “Mr Kaldron, now that the hostages are with us and we’ve secured this area, I want you to join Lt Cmdr Hrelle.”
He hesitated. “Has the- the fighting started?”
She paused, regarding him. It wasn’t fair, Hrelle should never have let him come along… and Zir should never have allowed it, Hrelle’s superior rank be damned. But there was nothing she could do except reply, “No, but any moment now. And when that happens, they’ll need you there more than we’ll need you here.”
The Hroch still hesitated, looking at his weapon, before finally nodding shamefully, “Yes. Yes, you are right, Comrade Zir. I must go where I am truly needed… not hiding back here. I am sorry for disappointing all of you.”
“Hey!” Tori moved away from the console where she was working, shaking a finger up at him, her face screwed up in shallow anger. “You’ll know when you disappoint us, Cankles, ’coz you’ll be wearing your balls for earrings and shitting leather after I shove my boot straight up your ass! You got that, you big sack of monkey spunk?”
Urad looked down at her, patting her on the arm. “Little Comrade, you really must learn to open up and express your feelings, it’s healthier.” Then he departed.
Tori watched him leave, her swagger suddenly drained, her voice low. “I hope he’ll be okay.”
“He will be,” Zir assured her. Hoping she sounded convincing enough.
*
“An anti-transporter field detected!” Nesrac Sur reported. “And not ours!”
Surinh Dag made a sound. “Contact Engineering.”
His partner moved to the communicator. “Jarev! Report! What’s your status?”
A pause, and then a familiar voice responded, “Power output is nominal, Sire, warp coils charged and ready.”
“Then why are you running diagnostics on the internal security systems without clearance?”
“Ahhh… forgive me, Sire, one of my Stokers accidentally overloaded the Generator, so we’re rebooting several of the systems. I promise you, I’ve clouted him bloody for it!”
Nesrac Sur looked to Surinh Dag, who made a throat-slashing gesture, then back again. “I would hope so, Jarev. Bridge out.” He turned to his partner. “It sounded like Jarev… except too friendly. Maybe he’s under duress?”
“Or it’s a vocal fake. Whichever, the enemy has seized Engineering.”
“What would be the point? If they have who they’ve come for already-”
“Have they? What if they've come for us as well?” Surinh Dag, moving to a tactical display of their ship, pointing to one area of the Midsection Upper Deck. “The electro-plasma conduit feeding the security fields in Cargo Bay 30 hasn’t been repaired yet, has it?”
“No, Sire, it hasn’t exactly been a priority at this time-”
“Good. Activate it.”
Nesrac Sur frowned again. “But that will cause an overload! A plasma fire in the corridor that the normal suppressor systems won’t be able to put out!”
“Yes… if we cannot employ the established internal security protocols, we must improvise. And prepare two armed teams: one to sweep backwards through the Midsection’s Upper Deck, either dealing with whomever they find, or driving them into that fire.”
“And the other team?”
“Have them suit up to exit Airlock Two just outside the Bridge. They’ll walk along the outside of the ship towards Engineering, and enter through Airlock Four, just behind Engineering.”
Nesrac Sur frowned again – and felt the reactions from several of the Bridge crew to that. “Sire, the planetary magnetosphere hiding us is also producing ionic radiation that even our exosuits will not protect our men from lengthy exposure. Our resources in Sickbay might not be enough to treat them properly afterwards.”
He grunted. “That’s a risk I’m willing to let them take.” He looked up now, when no one moved. “I promise to personally, quickly end the suffering of any crewman that can’t be treated successfully.
And I’ll also do the same to any lazy scum who refuses to follow my orders.
Regardless of rank.
Get it done. NOW!”
Nesrac Sur swallowed. “Yes, Sire.”
*
Vissol felt the tension in the workshop rise like the temperature during the hottest part of summer, as the eyes and attention of the Calvera survivors turned to the arrival of the Orion and his family, so much so that he instinctively drew closer to Dishu and Haikiv.
A blonde-haired human male, sporting injuries to his face, sneered angrily at them. “What are those Greenbacks doing in here? Get out!”
Other voices joined him in support, but then a tall, muscular, dour-looking dark-skinned humanoid dressed like Zir and the other Starfleet people stepped between both groups. “Be silent. These people are not related to those who abducted and hurt you. They are innocent victims as well.”
“Innocent?” The human sidestepped the woman to face Vissol again, his hostility unabated. “Do you know what your people were going to do to us? What they’ve done to hundreds, thousands of us over the years? Are you gonna claim ignorance of that?”
“No, Sir,” Vissol admitted, fully ashamed now. “We’re not. We know it happens. That doesn’t mean we’ve ever approved of it. We’re just ordinary, merchant-class people back home. We never owned anyone, or would even if we could.”
“No?” The human sneered, moving closer, his hand closing into a fist as his face reddened with anger. “And what have you done about it? Have you voted against it? Protested? Overthrown your government? Or are you Greenbacks just happy to turn a blind eye to it all-”
The dark-skinned humanoid swiftly reached up and clasped the human’s wrist, twisting slightly… and quickly bringing him down to his knees, making everyone around her gasp in shock and him gasp in pain. Her face ossified into a disapproving glare. “Political debates bore me. When I release you, you will return to the others and remain silent and non-aggressive, or I will sedate you.” She released her hold on him and stepped back. “I invite you to surprise me with a display of nous.”
The man clutched his forearm, struggling to return to his feet and not look at the woman or the Orions as he returned to the crowd.
Now the woman turned to Vissol, displaying none of the belligerence of seconds before. “I am Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas, Chief Nurse of Station Salem One. I would like to run a quick medical scan to confirm you do not require any treatment following your abduction and incarceration. May I have your permission?”
Vissol glanced at his wife and son; like I’m going to argue with you after that demonstration… “Go ahead, please.”
Swiftly she produced a medical tricorder and passed a sensor wand over each of them in turn. “Slight malnutrition, fatigue induced by interrupted sleep and stress, as expected. I have prepared multivitamin hypospray treatments suitable for Orion physiology. Again, with your permission?”
Vissol nodded, still glancing past the nurse to the civilians milling nearby, keeping their distance. He lowered his voice. “Thank you for your intervention, Nurse.”
She was preparing a hypospray. “We originally came here for your sake; it would hardly be sensible to let a miscreant cause any of you harm during your rescue.”
He felt a rush as the nurse pressed the tip of the hypospray against his neck, as Dishu muttered, “These aliens are not fit to judge us. We did not make our society.”
“We have done nothing to challenge it, either,” Vissol countered, focusing on Eydiir again. “You know our daughter? What is she like? Is she respected by your people?”
She was refilling the hypospray to inject his wife. “She is brave, strong, honourable, intelligent, resourceful, fiercely loyal, protective of innocents. She holds a high position of authority and has the trust of our commanding officer, and she has proven to be worthy of both.” After injecting Dishu, she turned to Haikiv. “She has talked at length about her younger brother.”
“Me?” the youth asked.
Eydiir nodded. “She has missed you. All of you.”
Dishu looked dubious. “You expect us to believe that?”
The Capellan injected Haikiv, before facing the Orion woman, her response measured, cordial. “I expect nothing. I am not ignorant of the emotional complications that can arise between members of Starfleet and their families – I have experienced some of mine – nor will I comment upon them, as it is not my business. I will only point out the opportunity you have now to speak… and to listen. Life might not afford this again.”
*
Urad marched down the corridor, fully aware of how much space he took within some of the narrower places here, a situation he faced numerous times during his tenure in Starfleet, living among beings who tended to be smaller than his own people. But this proved particularly claustrophobic, at least in some of the side accessways.
But he would ignore that. And ignore his fear, a fear layered with guilt when he saw that new Security cadet, looking so eager to leap into battle. Perhaps she was just too young to appreciate how dangerous this life was. Or perhaps she had the courage that seemed to have fled him-
Suddenly the corridor before him erupted into green fire, a terrible wall of heat that struck him, making him turn and crouch, instinctively covering himself, his mind returning to that horrible, horrible moment on Salem One, when the Dragon had breathed plasma fire over him. Cooking him.
Not again no no no no no- please please not again I’ll do anything-
*
Sasha was caught off-guard by the stun grenade, having been barely pulled behind a wall by Mru as it detonated, it still sent a neuroleptic charge through her body, dampened somewhat by her body armour and the partial protection from the wall. Instinctively she drew her phaser, shook off Mru’s hold and re-emerged into the junction, firing blindly as she charged ahead, slamming into two Orions, tackling them and delivering point-blank phaser blasts.
More Orions appeared from behind, grabbing her and pulling her back, smacking the phaser from her grip and trying to shoot her with disruptors, even as she punched and kicked back, cursing herself for reacting before she had forced down the effects of the neuroleptic blast. One of the Orions caught her in the face with the butt of his pistol-
A roar to their left made them turn, as Mru leapt at them, teeth and claws bared, slashing one Orion across the face, before he slammed into the other, breaking his neck with a loud snap.
Sasha let him continue, as she knelt, retrieved her phaser and fired at the other Orions who had emerged, firing back. She kept low and calm, ignoring their disruptor bolts striking the wall beside her and making sparks fly, ignoring Mru’s continued assault on the others as she brought down the rest of the small group, before she rose and charged ahead to check if there were more.
Then she returned, seeing her lover standing over those he had killed or subdued. He was breathing hard, part of him still looking around, as if checking to see if anyone else was foolish enough to want to take him on further.
She regarded the carnage. She was attracted to Mru on many levels, not least of which was his gentleness, his patience and loving nature; what this was here now was a side she had never seen in him, though she knew it was something that all Caitians possessed, something she had seen, from Dad and Kami in defence of each other, or Sasha, or the younger cubs.
And the evolution of her relationship with Mori had finally brought it out in him here. It had been inevitable, given their life in Starfleet and the risks it brought. And as sorry as she was at that inevitability, and at the Counseling they would both need after all this, she was also shamefully glad to see it, when it was needed.
Then he turned, still on full alert, his tail twitching as he turned in the direction of the aft of the ship. “I smell burning- hear it-”
“Find out,” she ordered, imagining she caught the scent of something burning as well, pressing her Embed as he rushed off. “Hrelle to Dassene: is there a fire somewhere?”
“Affirmative! A plasma fire has filled the corridor near Cargo Bay 30! It’s blocked Ensign Kaldron or anyone else from reaching you!”
And Mru and me from escaping… “Do what you can.”
*
On the viewscreen on the Bridge, a stunned Nesrac Sur switched off the image from the body camera worn by the Orion that Mru had killed. “There were… There were only two of them, somehow defeating six of us… impossible…”
“Not if the two are the Daughter of Hrelle, and her Caitian mate,” Surinh Dag reminded him grimly. “And the six were dross. Prepare another squad. Greater numbers. Better armed.”
Nesrac Sur frowned. “More powerful energy weapons could damage the infrastructure-”
“No energy weapons. Knives, maces, cudgels, hammers, hooks, axes… and night visors.”
“Night visors? Why?”
“To compensate for the duonetic pulse we will deliver through the conduits on Junction 4, directly overhead Hrelle and her mate. It will disrupt all the power in the Midsection: lights, sensors… and the Starfleeters’ energy weapons and communicators.
Oh, and have our doctor give our men shots of animazine just before we send them in.”
Now his partner paled. “Animazine? That- That will-”
“I know what it will do, that’s the fucking idea! I want to unleash a mob of hyperstimulated, bloodthirsty brutes against that bitch and her pet cat! I want their guts painting the walls and floors of our corridors before we’re done! The second team is almost at the Aft EVA hatch behind Engineering.
In the meantime, I will say goodbye to our uninvited guests.”
*
The heat was rolling down through the segmented corridors to Engineering. Zir ignored it to turn back to her team, trying to remain calm. “It’s a fire! Fires can be put out! That’s why we have damage control systems on starships!”
Tori looked just as ready to lose her temper as Zir felt, but to her credit only let her frustration show in a tightness in her voice. “This was started deliberately from the Bridge! They’re feeding it! Normal fire suppression systems won’t work! The only way to stop it now is to either take over all the systems and shut off the fuel, or blast a hole in the hull and evacuate the air from the area!”
“Which would kill us as well,” C’Riir added.
Zir shot him a dirty look. “Unless you have something useful to add, Cadet, shut up and keep working!”
The young Caitian stiffened, nodded and returned to his console.
Closer to her, Tori caught her eye with a reproving look, her voice low, “Jesus, Zir…”
Zir felt herself turn a darker shade of olive. Before she could apologise, however, the intercom beeped again, and she returned to the unit, ensuring the voice synthesiser was up and running to mimic the expected voice. “Engineering, Jarev here.”
“No it isn’t, Starfleet.”
Zir started, recognising Surinh Dag. She glanced at Tori, C’Riir, Urad, Eydiir and Cadet Trythi, who had all gathered together when Urad had returned to report the plasma fire. She ignored her racing pulse, breathed in and continued, trying to sound as casual as she could. “Are you drunk on tranya up there, Bridge? Send some down here to slake our thirsts.”
“Oh, we’re sending you something, Starfleet. I just wanted you to know that those fools caught on the other side of the fire will very soon be chopped to very tiny pieces, like mippok shoots for a garnish. But they’ll be the lucky ones, compared with what we’ll do to all of you. I just didn’t want you to bathe in blissful ignorance of your fate. Flee. While you still can.”
The comlink ended.
Zir tapped her Embed. “Dassene to Hrelle: they're coming for you! Find some way to get out of there!”
A pause, and then Sasha replied, “I’m open to suggestions. No way to put out the fire?”
“We’re… working on it. If we drop the transporter block generated by your flyer-”
“-You leave everyone there open for attack; they’ll be waiting for that. Do not drop the block, Lieutenant, that’s an order. Continue the takeover, we’ll work out something here. Hrelle out.”
Zir stared at nothing, feeling the weight of the crisis on her, feeling the eyes of everyone on her, waiting for a response. She was in charge here. She could end up in charge of everyone.
Lt Cmdr Hrelle had led them here to save Zir’s family, she was given the awful, unwanted responsibility of saving the Calvera survivors as well. And she took it all on without complaint. The woman Zir had been secretly dismissing as an unstable addict was prepared to sacrifice her life, and her lover’s life, to save the rest of them.
Sasha Hrelle was her father’s daughter.
Zir would not go back to the Commodore without her. “The Tailless has exosuits. They could protect me long enough to get through the plasma fire, carry some spare suits over for Hrelle and Mori, and get us all back.”
“Excuse me, Ma’am…” C’Riir spoke up now, albeit hesitantly.
Zir turned to the Caitian again, recalling her treatment of him moments ago. “Cadet, I’m sorry for how I spoke before. What did you want to say?”
He still appeared sheepish, though it may have been the content of his reply. “Ma’am, begging your pardon, but the Caitian exosuits aren’t designed to withstand direct exposure from the heat generated by plasma fire. You might survive the crossing, but the environmental controls and the polyduranide coating in the joints of the suit will melt, maybe even ignite, and prevent a safe return.”
Zir swallowed, looked to Tori for a confirmation she didn’t want – but still received – before nodding in acceptance. “One crossing will be enough for me to join our people, with suits for them to use to return here. I’ll take that chance.”
“NO!”
Zir turned at the sound of Mama, standing at the doorway with Papa and Haikiv, obviously having witnessed the exchange. She shook off the hand from her husband and strode forward, the hostility she showed before evaporated, replaced with something more maternal, fearful. “I won’t have you risk your life for these kafirlirs, young lady! They’re not worth it!”
Zir was at a momentary loss for words, stunned at the experience of being scolded like a sprout by her mother in front of her colleagues. “Mama, please, go back with Papa-”
Dishu continued forward, grasping Zir by the upper arms, their first physical contact since their reunion here, the concern on the older Orion female’s face raw, as tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m not losing you again! Not now! Not after all that time apart, never knowing if you were alright, never knowing if you were even alive, hoping, praying to the Gods that I would see you again- tell you-”
She broke down, clutching onto Zir for dear life.
Unseen by Zir and most of the others, Urad quietly departed for the corridor.
Eydiir followed.
*
“Lieutenant Commander Hrelle?”
Sasha had been in a locker room near the junction, running a quick inventory of their remaining weapons, when she stopped and turned, seeing the viewscreen on the wall now alight, and filled with the image of an older Orion male she recognised, from more recent Starfleet intelligence reports, and more distantly, images marking him as a former Deathmatch Gamesmaaster… and owner of her father. “You know me?”
Surinh Dag laughed. “Of course! We all know Hellcat Hrelle! The Drunkard Daughter of the Beast! The Emotional Wreck! The Mascot for Post-Traumatic Stress! So what brings you to our humble vessel? Have you run out of booze? Narcotics? Or are you looking for help to end your life because your previous attempts were so inept?”
Mru had been outside, but now rushed in, having heard the voices, staring at the image on the screen. He bared his teeth and growled.
She waved him back, never taking her eyes off of Surinh Dag; of course they had gained access to her records, and learned of all her private demons. But that didn’t mean she had to let herself feel vulnerable, or give him any satisfaction whatsoever. “No, actually, I’m on a scavenger hunt.”
He frowned now, bemused. “A what?”
“A scavenger hunt. And I think I’m gonna win it, too. Because the last thing on my list to find was an Orion bitch. A beady-eyed, limp-dicked, knuckle-dragging, whiny little Orion bitch, who looks like someone tried to sculpt a Denebian Slime Devil out of an uncured gangrenous pork shoulder.” She indicated the screen. “And here one appears. The Gods must be smiling down at me.”
Surinh Dag’s frown deepened. “You’ll think differently before this hour passes, slut. Surrender now, and I might offer some mercy. Though it’s unlikely.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth, Bubulah… except I wouldn’t have called you a slut, because the closest you’ve ever come to actual sex with someone else was when you shared a toothbrush with your aunt while on a camping trip. Open the doors and come out, my Dad’s birthday is next week, and I’ve had trouble finding the perfect gift for him.”
He drew closer to his side of the viewscreen, displaying every blemish and scar on his chartreuse face. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun with you, Starfleet! My crew and I will leave every hole on you raw and bleeding on our way back to Orion, where I’ll put what’s left of you up for sale in the biggest slave market in Gaimurc! I’ll even arrange for the auction to be broadcast into Federation space! What will Daddy think when he sees his little girl, naked and up on the auction block?”
“He’ll take one look at my waistline and finally answer that age-old question about Who Ate All The Pies. And you can save your pitiful rape threats; you Orions have dicks so small they couldn’t reach the back of a bottle cap, and you’re all so stupid you wouldn’t know the difference between a vagina and the sack of medical waste where your mother dumped you as a baby.” She crossed her arms. “Your turn, Asshole.”
Surinh Dag drew back, seemingly overwhelmed with anger… until he smiled. “Yes. My turn.”
The screen went black.
As did the lights, and everything else.
And the collective roar of an incoherent mob filled the air from the direction of the front of the Green Death.
*
Urad stopped long before reaching the wall of green flame curtaining the corridor ahead of him, the heat a further impediment, his eyes squinting at the brightness. I can do this. I can do this-
“Ensign!”
He turned at the approach of Chief Nurse Eydiir, carrying a heavy-looking chemical fire suppressant canister in her hands, and tried to wave her back. “Comrade, you should stay with the others, where you are needed.”
“I am needed here. You cannot do what you intend to do.”
He considered lying to her, arguing with her, but thought better of it, having dealt with the formidable Capellan long enough to know the futility of both courses of action. He pointed towards the fire. “I must go where I am needed. And I am needed on the other side of this infernal gauntlet.”
“You are not invincible, Mr Kaldron. You will be injured – again – and the medical facilities at my disposal here will not match what we have on Salem One.”
He swallowed, and nodded, ignoring his heart triphammering within his chest. “That is… very likely, Comrade Chief Nurse. And I am well aware that I am not invincible; such arrogant notions were literally burned away from me by the Dragon. But I am also aware that any pain I might feel today will be transitory, compared to the shame of cowardice I would feel for the rest of my life, should I remain behind.”
“Ensign-”
“Comrade Chief Nurse, we both know I have the best chance of reaching the other side, and still be strong enough to stand beside our comrades and protect them.”
Suddenly the artificial lights overhead failed, though there was more than enough illumination from the fire.
It seemed to spur Eydiir, making her adjust the canister in her grip. “One moment.”
He indicated the device. “They said that will not work on the fire, Comrade Chief Nurse.”
“I am aware of that, Ensign, but it may offer you some small protection. Raise your arms and close your eyes and mouth; the substance is toxic, even for one with your qualities.” She aimed the nozzle at him, and began spraying a viscous, strong-scented coral-white foam onto him, moving around him quickly but thoroughly, until the canister was exhausted, and she cast it aside with a loud clang.
He looked down at himself, grunting. “I look like one of the snowmen I used to build as a child during Icetime back on Hroch.”
“You are made of sterner stuff than snow. Mr Kaldron, my people long for nothing more than to die in battle, for ourselves and for those we care about.
I have higher standards. Survive. And help my Spirit Sister and her partner survive, if you can.”
He nodded to her, unwilling to waste motion and shake off the foam, desperately needing all the help he could get.
I am not invincible.
I am not invincible.
But, God Willing, I will be invincible enough…
*
Always be ready for the unexpected in any fight, Dad used to say. Especially before the fight actually begins.
At the loss of the lights and the sound of the approaching crowd, Sasha had drawn her phaser and aimed it, ready to fire now if only to use the illumination from the phaser beam to get her bearings.
Only to find that her phaser didn’t function. Immediately she holstered it, recognising the cause as she reached for her ballistic pistol. “Duonetic field!”
Beside her in the darkness, she heard Mru acknowledge and do the same. “I can see them with my night vision- stay behind me-”
“NO! STAY BESIDE ME!” she shouted over the rising din, as she heard the mob turn the corner just ahead of them, screaming savagely – becoming visible as she raised and fired, the flash of the discharge lighting up the corridor, and the .666 calibre bullets striking Orions. She expected to see them go down.
They didn’t. The bullets struck, opening up holes in chests, even blowing away parts of limbs. But they kept going, their wearing night vision goggles and expressions of chemically-induced bloodlust adding to their nightmarish demeanour, raising cutting and bludgeoning weapons.
She had a flashback to one of those old Terran horror videos she used to watch with Alpha Squad, where the dead would rise and attack the living. There was something primal about those scenes, even centuries old, that reached into her core.
She forced down that atavistic fear as she aimed for the heads – that at least seemed to do the trick, for some. But she only had a limited number of bullets, as did Mru. She wanted to draw out her sword, but she didn’t have enough room here. “RETREAT!”
