Eight - Part 3 of 3

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In Engineering, Zir kept watching Tori and C’Riir orbit the portable workstation set up near the main control panel of the Orion equipment, the workstation that would hopefully serve as a functioning Auxiliary Control, eventually connecting to the controls in the Tailless. She resisted interrupting them as long as she could, before finally asking, “Well?”

Tori was kneeling down, pulling out some data couplers from the control panel to try and connect to the workstation. “Soon, soon, fucking soon-”

An alert from one of the nearby panels brought Zir to it, examining the cause. “There’s been a major power failure in the Midsection- a local duonetic field- communications with Team Two are down- ”

A sound behind Zir made her turn, expecting it to be one of the civilians leaving the workshop again looking for updates.

Except it wasn’t the workshop, it was the door to the EVA airlock opening- but there shouldn’t have been anybody in there-

Orions in exosuits emerged, firing disruptors.

“GET DOWN!” Zir crouched, drew her phaser and fired at one, the beam catching the chestplate, causing damage but not reaching inside. Another Orion fired in her direction, making her twist and roll for cover, glancing back at Tori and C’Riir, who had taken cover as well and drawn their own weapons. She heard shouts of panic and confusion from the workshop - stay inside, stay out of the line of fire, please please please – as she increased her phaser setting and fired back again. She saw her beam penetrate the Orion’s exosuit now, at the shoulder, causing sparks and smoke as he pulled away.

She turned back to look at Tori and C’Riir, motioning to the workstation while trying to keep her voice low. “Set to Level 5! Keep that unit protected! We can’t afford to lose it now!”

Then Zir turned back, studying the layout, choosing her next targets, to keep them at bay and away from the workstation-

She started as she witnessed the Sancaran Security Cadet Lock Trythi slither, like some sort of serpent, moving fast and unseen under and around tables and chairs, keeping impossibly low and limber. She called out, “Cadet! Stand down, no further!”

But the cadet didn’t listen, sneaking up on one Orion to fire at point blank range at one of his knees, dropping him to Trythi’s level on the floor, before the cadet shot him through his helmet, the interior filling up with sparks and smoke.

Impressive, but stop showing off, that’s how you get yourself and others killed. Unable to chastise her now, Zir offered support, keeping the others – eight or nine left, at last count – back and away from the vital equipment. They at least seemed savvy enough not to fire blindly at everything around them. Damn it, Zir, you should have anticipated that they might have tried something like this!

She saw one of the Orions move to the workshop, disruptor drawn. She fired at him, nearly leaving herself open to be shot by the others-

Then she watched as the Orion returned, driven back by- Papa? He had picked up a large dynospanner from within the workshop, and was striking quickly and furiously at the Orion’s helmet and weapon hand. Papa no no no NO NO NO-

*

The mob had overwhelmed Sasha and Mru before they had reached the plasma fire, but at least they were close enough to benefit from the illumination. So we can see who’s gonna gut us like fish-

She stopped her panicky self-pity to punch out, the Pummels on her gloves unable to deliver a neuroleptic charge but still offering an armoured assistance to her blows, even if her opponents didn’t seem to be feeling them-

A roar to her left almost distracted her, but she managed to kick out and indulge in a glance, seeing Mru, gripped in a berserker fury, ripping into the throat of one Orion upon him, spitting out flesh and letting dark red-purple blood spurt out from the wound, even as he shoved the body back against the others and rose to claw at another.

Carnage reigned. 

But they would not last much longer. Perhaps it would have been better to take their chances and race through the flames behind them-

Another roar filled the air, a bellow that paused the fighting and drew the attention of all there towards the wall of fire, where a huge silhouette raced through the flames, still on fire as it torpedoed towards the fight, a massive arm swinging out to strike the Orion trying to stab Sasha in the throat, sending him hurtling into the crowd.

She recognised Ensign Kaldron, though he was coated in some liquid that was obviously meant to protect him, but which had still caught fire and burned and smoked. But he seemed to ignore it, wading into the rest of the Orions like a juggernaut, punching and slamming, the screams of the Orions moving from bloodlust to terror.

She took the opportunity afforded them by Kaldron’s timely intervention, to crawl over to Mru. He was clutching his right side, where Orion blades had found their way between his armour plates. His clothes, his fur, was matted in blood, and he was breathing shallowly, eyes still on the enemy as he asked, “Are you- Are you okay?”

She nodded, feeling herself drenched in blood, too, and bruises, but no major wounds. I must live right… “We’ve got to get Eydiir to treat you.”

He nodded back, but indicated the fire behind them. “You’ll have to work your considerable charms on that burning wall first. Think you can manage that?”

Suddenly the fire began dying out quickly, as if suddenly deprived of its fuel, and the lights returned overhead.

She looked back at him. “I’m claiming that.”

*

Two minutes before in engineering, Zir screamed as she rose, drawing a combat knife from her belt as she fired, driving her blade into those she didn’t phaser, as she drove forward towards the Orion fighting with her father. Then she took over, driving the Orion attacker into the nearest wall, ignoring the pain in her knee as she drove it up into his groin and sending him to the floor. There’s not enough padding there to keep you from feeling that.

Papa reached out to her. “Zir-”

She pointed the bloodied knife towards the workshop. “Get back in there with the rest of the civilians! Now!”

Her father obeyed instantly.

Zir turned again, as another Orion was charging towards her. She didn’t have time to check her remaining phaser charge-

-Until she found she didn’t need to, as Eydiir appeared from the corridor beyond, flinging one of her Capellan kligat blades, one of the tips of the crescent-shaped weapon piercing the back of the exosuit and sending him sprawling down, his helmet shattering on the floor.

Zir spun in place, scanning the rest of the room, seeing Trythi struggle with a final Orion, her body wrapped around him, the claws on one paw having ripped open the exosuit and reached inside, as if to tickle him. Then suddenly the Orion spasmed, and threw up copiously inside his helmet, obscuring him entirely as he collapsed.

Zir rushed up to the EVA airlock, glancing inside to ensure no one remained hidden, before assessing the situation, pointing around her. “Ensign Emoto, Cadet C’Riir, finish your work on Auxiliary Control! Eydiir, check the Orions for anyone still alive, treat them and get them moved into the equipment locker with our earlier prisoners! You tell me which ones are dead and I’ll get them shifted into the airlock! Cadet Trythi, stand watch over the prisoners in the locker!” She paused to step out into the corridor, seeing the lights towards the midsection out, and feeling the hit air travelling up from the plasma fire.

She returned, looking at Eydiir, who was kneeling by one wounded Orion. “Did Urad make it?”

The Capellan nurse never looked up as she replied curtly, “He did. He will help the others.”

Zir wanted more, but knew she couldn’t have what wasn’t there. She tapped her Embed to try and reach Hrelle, receiving nothing; the duonetic field was obviously still blocking communications. “Tori! Shut down that fire and get the fields turned off! I don’t care how long it takes, or what you have to-”

“It’s done,” the Assistant Chief Engineer announced simply.

“What? Oh. Thank you.” Zir blinked, before touching her Embed again. “Dassene to Hrelle: what’s your status?”

“Mru and Urad are wounded but mobile, I’m sending them back to join you. What’s your status?”

Zir indulged in a heartbeat of relief, before replying, “We’ve almost completed our work here. Do you need backup?”

“Negative. I’m just… just making sure no more of these assholes come looking to get chopped down. Once you’re ready, lock down the Fore Section, get us headed back to Salem One, and then let me know. Hrelle out.”

Nearby, Trythi, clutching a phaser in each paw, straightened up. “Shall I go help, Lieutenant? I can help, I am fierce!”

“Continue with your current duties, Cadet.” Hearing the sounds in the workshop, she entered, seeing all eyes on her as she announced loudly, “The attack is over, everyone is safe again.”

“Safe?” one of the Calvera survivors, an older, grey-haired Trill male, repeated back angrily, “We were almost killed in here! You were supposed to protect us!”

Guilt stung Zir, but before she could reply, Papa, standing next to Mama and Haikiv and still holding onto the dynospanner, intervened. “They are doing that! They’re risking their lives for us!”

“Oh, of course, you would stick up for your own kind!”

“This man also attacked one of his ‘own kind’ to defend us,” pointed out the young girl, Nova Adrisi, drawing up to stand formally in seeming defence of Zir’s family, having recovered from her earlier injuries. “In contrast, your actions in defending us amounted to… nothing.”

The Trill harrumphed. “Someone should have taught you respect, young lady!”

Nova raised her chin to him. “My mother, Lt Cmdr Dona Adrisi, taught me respect… and to recognise when someone deserves it or not.”

“Enough!” Now another Calvera survivor, the Pilot who identified herself to Zir earlier as Monteros, stepped forward now, staying focused on Zir. “Thank you for informing us, Lieutenant. Do you need any assistance out there?”

Zir nodded gratefully. “Not yet, but once we’re on our way we’ll be arranging to bring in food and water, visits to the hygiene chamber on our ship and so on. It’ll be in small numbers, but if you could organise the people-”

“Of course, Lieutenant. Whatever you need.”

She nodded again, turning back to her family, her voice softer. “Are you alright in here? Would you be comfortable somewhere else?”

Papa looked ready to reply, until Mama beat him to it. “We’ll be fine here for now, Zir. You get back to work, we’ll talk later.”

Zir sought some hostility, some bitterness or attitude in her mother’s response. But found none.

*

“They’ve overridden the plasma conduit controls,” one of the Bridge underlings reported. “They’ve shut off the fire and duonetic fields!”

Nesrac Sur strode up to him. “Take it back!”

“I- I’m trying, Sire!”

“Any word from the team we sent to Engineering?”

“They are not responding, Sire!”

“Well?” Surinh Dag asked.

The Shipmaster turned back to his partner, caught between loyalty to him and to his crew. “They’re doing what they can-”

“I know that. I am asking what you intend to do next against the enemy. Your ship has been invaded. You have sent your men to deal with them, and they have failed. They are nearly at our door. What is your next step?”

Nesrac Sur felt the eyes on him. Again. Wondering which of them would stab him in the back, metaphorically or even physically, if he showed any cowardice now. Never mind that most of the orders were really at Surinh Dag’s driving; Nesrac Sur was the Shipmaster here. And his so-called partner was willing to use that against him, as easily as he had befriended Nesrac Sur. Little wonder his father had succumbed to melancholy and paranoia from this miserable job.

For a quick, private moment, he envied Starfleet; the kafirlirs seemed to be truly supportive of each other. So very moral.

Yes, they are, aren’t they… He straightened up, breathed in. “I will personally lead the next squad out. I have a secret weapon that Hrelle bitch won’t expect.”

*

Sasha moved through the bloodied corridor, the stench making her stomach wretch, despite her experience in similar situations. 

This one had a flavour all its own. Ferasans, Klingons, Jem’Hadar, Kzinti. None of them were easy. But all of them had some measure of discipline and self-control… and some sense of self-survival. These Orions had been tough, tougher than the first pack she’d tussled with. Tougher… and uncaring about being hurt.

She stopped and knelt down, opening the eyes of one dead Orion, seeing pupils dilated to pinpricks, surrounded by a bloodshot web: clear signs of animazine use, something she had seen from her own abuse, albeit not to these lethal levels.

Your hearts would have gone supernova if we hadn’t killed you first. What are your masters gonna throw at us next?

She forced down such thoughts to rise again and walk up to Urad Kaldron, standing there with his back to her like a statue, the remains of some smouldering, fire-resistant foam coating him dropping off like he was melting. “Ensign?”

He turned suddenly, huge fists raised… before lowering them immediately. “Comrade Lieutenant Commander, may I assist you?”

“I think you already have.” She surveyed the scene, the bodies that had been… stepped on, crushed, pulverised. She had heard the stories of what he had done on the Surefoot during the Battle of Khavak, when the Cardassians had invaded Engineering and were trying to gang rape Ensign Emoto. The aftermath here looked similar, a visible testament to the naked power in his frame, something that can be manifested without weapons. “Thank you for your timely arrival. And for overcoming your fear.”

His eyes narrowed. “I was not-” Then he paused, and despite his size, he seemed to deflate a little before her eyes, as he lowered his arms, and his head. “I was afraid, Ma’am.”

“Thank you for your honesty. I was scared too, this and every other time I’ve had to face killing or being killed. This life we lead – we choose to lead, let’s accept responsibility for that – offers so much potential for pain. Pain for ourselves as well as others. We both have had first-hand experience of that.”

She drew closer, her voice lowering as she felt her own vulnerabilities rise to the surface. “I can only imagine the level of pain you’ve suffered. I’ve been burned as well, though admittedly not to your degree. I’ve also been beaten, suffocated, stabbed, shot, clawed, scalped – sexually assaulted, though no one knows about that, that’s just between us – not to mention the emotional pain of taking the lives of others.

I tell you this not to compete with you, because that would be the shittest dick measuring contest ever, but to remind you that you're not alone.”

Urad made a pained expression, his voice an almost fragile whisper. “I feel… I feel like the Me who joined the Academy only a few years ago, the one longing for adventure and combat and glory, was killed somewhere, sometime ago.”

“He probably was,” she confirmed, “Mine was too, maybe after the first time I died. Or the second.

You know, every day, every single day, I long for a mission without pain, without conflict or incident. Something boring and easy that lets me go home at the end without a visit to Sickbay or the Counselor’s office.” She breathed out. “Most times, the Boring will happen. Relish when it does happen. It’s no reflection on your courage or spirit.” She patted his arm – Jesus, it was thicker than both her thighs – and looked up again. “You have a whole galaxy of people around you ready to listen and support you, if needed or wanted. Myself included.”

The young Hroch breathed in deeply, taking in her words as well, before replying, “Thank you, Comrade Lieutenant Commander.”

“You’re welcome. Now return to Engineering, get yourself checked out… and assure your friends and comrades that you’re alright.” She paused and added, “Are you alright?”

He looked at her a final time. “Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Definitely the day after.”

She smiled, letting him depart, while she proceeded ahead, drawing her sword as the corridor widened and she got closer to the division between the Mid and the Fore Section of the ship. They’ll try something else, for certain, but if she set up some phaser traps just ahead-

“STARFLEET!”

She froze, gripping her weapons, raising her phaser higher.

“Starfleet,” the male voice repeated. “There’s four of us, just around the corner. We’re coming into view. If we wanted to attack you, we would have done so. We’re here to negotiate. We’re coming into view… and I should warn you, we have a youngster with us.” 

Sasha tensed, having no cover where she was, considering turning back or just calling their bluff and firing.

Then they appeared: an Orion male, younger than Surinh Dag but sporting command insignia, flanked by two armed guards… and a younger, frightened-looking girl, perhaps eleven or twelve, with Vulcanoid features and dressed in simple clothes… and with the muzzle of a disruptor pressed against the back of her head by one of the guards.

Sasha kept her eyes on the one in charge, already having worked out all the possible ways she could respond without letting the girl come to harm… and finding none. “I don’t know you. One of Surinh Dag’s lackeys?”

He sneered. “His partner, actually: Nesrac Sur, the Shipmaster of the Green Death.”

Her face tightened at the name. “Yeah, I’ve heard of you; my Dad used to spend his time on the Furyk kicking your Dad’s ass.” She nodded to the child. “You here to return her to the rest of the people you took from the Calvera? Thanks, you can let her go now.”

Nesrac Sur chuckled, reaching out and stroking the girl’s face. “Oh, Nuvauth here wasn’t with the Calvera. She was found by an Orion salvage party in the wreckage of a Romulan transport two years ago, following an evacuation of one of their outposts near Soldus during the War. We have kept her fed, clothed and gainfully employed ever since.” He paused, asking her, “How old are you again?”

Nuvauth locked eyes with Sasha as she swallowed and replied, “Twelve.”

“Twelve,” Nesrac Sur echoed. “But I can tell you from personal experience, Lieutenant Commander, that she’s learned much from her masters, and as a result, has learned to live a relatively pain-free life. And, with your cooperation, she will continue to do so.”

Sasha’s stomach twisted at the sight of the Orion touching the young girl like that, and at what he revealed to her. “Let her go. Now.”

“You don’t get to make demands, bitch. She’s here to help me make mine: drop your weapons and surrender, and she lives. Simple as that.”

She tensed, her jaw tightening, waiting for the trick, the sleight of hand bullshit they were going to pull on her. “Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Those holding all the proverbial cards don’t have to bluff. Surrender, and my guard doesn’t boil the interior of her skull. She lives. I won’t lie and say you’ll live as well, but she’ll live. I won’t lie and say that I’ll grant her her freedom after this, but she’ll live.”

No. No. “I can’t do that. You know I can’t.”

Nesrac Sur sighed theatrically. “That’s a lie, Starfleet, and we both know it. We’re all free. I have the freedom to make the offer, or not, with consequences for each choice. You have the freedom to accept my offer, or not, with consequences for each choice.” He regarded Nuvauth again. “Even my little slave here has some freedom: to obey, or not. With consequences for each choice. ” He looked at Sasha again. “So save the lies, Starfleet, and choose.”

She swallowed. “My team-”

“-Will be dealt with in due course. For now, I am focusing on you. Choose.”

Sasha’s heart was racing at warp speed. She had a mission here: rescue the Dassenes. Rescue the Calvera survivors. Get her team home safely. She could do two, possibly three of those things. But add saving this young girl’s life to that?

There’s no choice I can make here that’s gonna keep us completely free of shit. She told the others on the Tailless that just a few hours ago.

Oh Jesus… “Stop this, Nesrac Sur. Send her away. She has nothing to do with what’s going on here.”

The Orion Shipmaster grunted with amusement. “I won’t do that, Starfleet. You see how I said ‘I won’t’, and not ‘I can’t’? That’s because I accept responsibility for my own actions.

Can you do the same? Surrender, or she dies.”

Sasha scowled with her growing rage at her dilemma, at being put in this situation by these bastards. She met the child’s gaze once more. Seeing her pain, her despair. Seeing her bleak life here, her bleak future as a slave. 

But it was still better than dying.

Wasn’t it?

Sasha focused on Nesrac Sur again. “If she dies, you’ll follow. Every single one of you. That’s a fucking promise.”

Nesrac Sur grinned again. “I believe you. You might even survive us; they say you have a Devil’s luck for walking away from certain death.

But my little slave here won’t have your luck. She’ll be dead, along with me. And her blood will be on your hands, for the rest of your life. You’re Starfleet. You’re pledged to sacrifice your own lives to protect others. How would you be able to go on knowing-”

Nuvauth suddenly turned and reached for the weapon pressed against her head. She might have been panicking. She might have wanted to help with her own liberation. She might simply have had enough.

The answer would never be found, as the guard discharged his weapon, seemingly on reflex. It wasn’t on a particularly strong setting; but it was enough, enough to send a disruptor bolt entering one side of the Romulan girl’s skull, lighting up the inside and vaporising the contents.

Sasha, Nesrac Sur and the Orion guards watched, frozen, as her body dropped to the floor, her head smouldering like a freshly snuffed-out candle, blood seeping from her mouth, nose and ears. It was as if it was something distant, unreal.

“Fuck…” Nesrac Sur whispered, paling, his only bargaining chip lost, looking up at Sasha, as if anticipating a response.

He got it.

Sasha screamed, swung her sword arm up in a wide horizontal arc, the black blade striking his neck at the carotid artery. And passing straight through to the other side, sending his head flying and his body dropping to join Nuvauth’s.

His guards had the opportunity to see their Shipmaster’s head spin in the air, catching their gaze, as Sasha stabbed one and shot the other, sending him flying backwards, his body burning in a corner, Nesrac Sur’s head rolling to a stop next to it as if seeking company.

Sasha kept screaming at the bodies, until she dropped to her knees, her lungs struggling to breathe again, her head pounding as if she had been struck by a disruptor bolt instead of Nuvauth. I’m sorry… I’m sorry…

“Nesrac Sur?”

She started, twisting at the voice from the Shipmaster’s body, as if it had somehow evolved a second mouth after death.

“Nesrac Sur?” the voice of Surinh Dag repeated from the wrist communicator still on the Orion’s decapitated body. “Report!”

Sasha ground her teeth and lunged for the arm, lifting it up to snarl hoarsely at it, “Nesrac Sur can’t talk right now, his vocal cords have been severed. Along with his head.

And I’m still coming for you, you bastard. I’m still taking you back to my father. Only now, I’m cutting off your balls first! YOU HEAR ME, SURINH DAG? I SWEAR IT!”

She smashed the communicator with the hilt of her sword.

She was done talking.

*

“YOU HEAR ME, SURINH DAG? I SWEAR IT!”

On the Bridge of the Green Death, eyes turned to look at Surinh Dag, without being caught looking.

He stared ahead as if engrossed in the shifting starfield outside, ignoring them, showing no reaction, until one of them reported, “Warp engines have engaged. We’re moving in the direction of Station Salem One. What are your orders, Sire?”

His hands tightened into fists as the viewscreen dilated to warp. He had to continue to maintain authority among this rabble, at least for the next few moments. “Do not panic. The kafirlirs will still be defeated. You have my word on that.” 

He turned to the young Gunner. “I have one more tactic to play that no one – not that whore Hrelle or anyone else – can expect. I leave you in command until I return.”

The Gunner brightened at that. “Thank you, Sire! I will not let you down!”

Surinh Dag kept control of his reaction as he nodded and departed for the Shipmaster’s Quarters. Stupid cuksir, you could not possibly let me down, I am leaving you in command of a sinking ship.

He entered, ensuring that the vault was still secure, and still contained the accumulated secret wealth of their endeavours to date. Condolences, Nesrac Sur, you had potential, but you clearly underestimated the Cub of the Lion of Salem Sector. But I promise not to let your horde go to waste.

He activated the command protocols, entering a little-used anteroom of the quarters, one containing a harnessed chair, surrounding controls and a small viewscreen. Quickly he sat down and strapped himself in, activating the emergency separation system.

The anteroom, all of the quarters, shuddered, as the section they were contained in separated from the rest of the Green Death, becoming an escape pod that lifted up and away. He plotted a course for the nearest Bel-Zon outpost. Sorry, boys, but better you than me. There wasn’t enough latinum in the Galaxy to face the Beast again, not after all this-

-time… 

The rest of his thoughts vanished, as did the escape pod, and escape, and he found himself falling to the deck of the Engineering Room of the Green Death. Landing on his tailbone, he bit down the pain as he saw the figure of a young Orion woman rapidly approaching.

Zir Dassene. And as he suspected earlier, here all along with Hrelle, and not on Salem One. 

He reached for the disruptor pistol at his side, drawing it out- until Zir kicked it out of his grasp.

He kicked back, twisting around to look for the lost weapon even as he rose back to his feet. He weighed almost twice as much as this little whore, had killed many, many others in his long life. He would break this traitor to her own people-

Zir struck, using some set of seven-cursed martial arts moves learned from the kafirlirs, hitting nerve points that sent shards of pain through his arms, plus a more old-fashioned kick to his balls, leaving him struggling to hit back, only catching her once across the jaw and sending teeth flying.

She didn’t stop, didn’t draw back or reassess her chances of success. He saw others there with her, a human woman and one of those Caitians, and when both of them approached, she spat out blood and snarled, “NO! HE’S MINE!”

Surinh Dag chuckled at that. “I knew you were hot for me-”

She drove a vicious kick to his kneecap, shattering it and making him howl in agony and drop to the floor again – but getting him closer to his disruptor.

Until he stopped as she drew her phaser.

And watched as she raised the setting on it to Lethal levels, before pointing it at him again. 

He saw the look in her eyes.

Remembered the threat she had made from the station.

Oh yes.

So this was it… He saw her glance past him, followed her gaze to see her family standing there at the workshop doorway, watching her in astonishment. Or admiration. Or fear.

Surinh Dag pushed back his pain to growl, “Go on, Bitch… shoot. Avenge them. Because if you don’t, I’ll come back for them…”

Zir caught her breath and grunted, spitting blood again as she reduced the past power levels back to Stun again. “And I’ll kick your ass again. On my authority as an officer in Starfleet, I’m arresting you for murder, assault, piracy, slave trafficking, terrorism, abduction, and conspiracy.

You have the right to remain silent.

Embrace that right, or I might forget I’m better than you.”

*

“Dassene to Hrelle: We’ve completed the work on Auxiliary Control, locked down everyone on the Bridge, set a course for Salem One… and we’ve even captured Surinh Dag while he tried to escape, and have him locked up now. What’s your status?”

Sasha knelt by the body of Nuvauth, having wrapped it up in an industrial cloth she found in an adjacent supply closet. She stared distantly at the folds and imperfections in the weaves in the material. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-

“Lieutenant Commander? Are you there? Do you need assistance?”

Now she reached up and responded. “Can you patch my comlink into the ship's intercom?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Do it. Now.”

A heartbeat later, she felt the ping at her neck. She breathed in, unable to take her gaze away from the shrouded body of a poor girl who had died a pawn in some insane, pointless act thanks to these bastards… and thanks to Sasha. Nesrac Sur was right about that much, even if it was indirect.

She kept her voice as measured and unignorable as the ticking of an old-fashioned clock. “Attention, crew of the Green Death: this is Lieutenant Commander Sasha Hrelle of Starfleet.

Your Shipmaster is dead. Surinh Dag is in custody. We have taken control of your vessel and are returning to Station Salem One, where you will all be placed under arrest.

With immediate effect, you will stop what you’re doing, disarm and await incarceration. 

If you listen to your common sense and comply, you will live, and be treated as fairly and as reasonably as possible under the circumstances, and eventually spend a few years in a Federation penal colony, eventually to be extradited back to Orion space.

However, if you listen to your pride, or your dick, or whatever other part of you does your thinking for you, and decide to not comply… I will personally kill you.

I might phaser you into quantum mist. I might decapitate you like I did with Nesrac Sur. I might blow you out of the nearest airlock and let you die a very painful, very frightening and lonely death… and having died that way myself, I can assure you it’s all those things, and more. How you die will determine how much trouble you give me.

But I promise you, in the name of my father, Commodore Esek Hrelle, the Beast, the undefeated champion of your fucking Deathmatches, that you will die. Because you thieving, raping, murdering bastards have worn me down to my last nerve, and I’m all out of compassion and patience and mercy. 

Do not test the Daughter of the Beast.”

*

In Engineering, Tori looked up as she listened to Sasha's announcement, waiting until it finished before commenting to Zir, “Wow. Wasn’t she the one who was all high and mighty when you suggested blowing this ship up as we left? I guess being the Boss’ Kid has its perks.”

Zir had been standing close, dabbing with a wet cloth at the gap in her jaw where Surinh Dag had knocked out a couple of her teeth, and was about to admonish her friend, when Lt Mori had beat her to it.  He stormed up to Tori, hobbling slightly despite the treatments from Eydiir to his stab wounds, but still looking formidable – the Orion blood splattered across his armour added to it. “You can stow that disrespectful talk right now, Ensign! We’re all fed up with your attitude!”

Tori was backing away, looking pale and intimidated by his hostility. Zir cast aside her cloth, seeing the genuine fear in her friend’s eyes. It was obvious from when the Caitian had returned with Urad that they had undergone something terrible in the Midsection, and that Tori had a tendency to run off at the mouth, but this was no excuse for his blowing up now. “Lieutenant, please, calm down and back away!”

He glared at Zir, baring his teeth and hissing. “Mind your own business! You’ve made your feelings about Sasha plain enough throughout this whole disaster! And we’re only out here because of you!”

Zir tensed, her heart racing, her hand moving to the phaser in its holster, fearful that she might have to use it if she couldn’t de-escalate the situation-

-Until the situation worsened with Urad, emerging from where Eydiir had been treating him for burns despite his armour and the protective foam he had worn, his feet pounding on the bulkhead as he barrelled up, bellowing, “GET AWAY FROM THEM, SCOUNDREL!”

Mori spun in place, extending his claws and roaring back.

Urad didn’t stop, his hands forming fists.

Zir drew her phaser out, not knowing which of them she had to stun, or even if she could. “Stand down, both of you! Please!”

Suddenly the Caitian froze in place, as if genuinely listening to Zir, before he stopped and turned, his snout twitching and all aggression escaping him like air from an airlock as he looked at Zir – or rather, past her. “Sasha?”

All eyes turned to follow, Zir included, to see Lt Cmdr Hrelle standing at the doorway into the corridor, her bloodied, bruised face looking haunted, while she held something in her arms… something small and shrouded-

She saw part of a tiny hand peeking out from behind the fold of the covering.

Oh Gods, no.

Sasha entered, not looking at anyone or saying anything until Eydiir drew up to her from the workshop. She indicated the object in her arms, cradling it gently. “This is Nuvauth. She was Romulan. She was twelve. She was a slave. Her master tried to use her to get me to surrender. She took that power from him, at the cost of her life. But she died free.”

The Capellan nurse reached out carefully, mindfully, accepting the charge, regarding Sasha. “I will rest her somewhere safe, then return to look after you.”

“I’m fine,” Sasha dismissed, moving up to Zir and the others, looking but quite looking at her. “Status, Lt Dassene?”

The Orion woman was hesitant – the incident with the Romulan child had obviously and understandably affected the Terran woman, but Zir couldn’t very well say anything, not here and now – but quickly recovered. “We have full control over the ship, we’ve locked down the Fore Section, including the Armoury, and the Crew Barracks. We’re enroute to Salem One, ETA fourteen hours at Warp 8, with no other ships detected in the area. I’ve withheld sending any communications. The hostages are all safe and sound, I was getting ready to provide food and other essentials-”

“After.”

“After? After what?”

“After we secure the crew of the Green Death. Ensign Emoto, check the manifest and find the biggest empty cargo hold onboard… and then find another with refrigerated facilities for the bodies. Mr C’Riir, shut down the anti-transporter fields but maintain control of the Transporters themselves.

Lt Dassene will lead Lt Mori, Ensign Kaldron and Cadet C’Riir through the rest of the ship, identifying and if necessary disarming crewmembers, and having them beamed into the selected cargo hold.”

“We could just lock onto all the lifesigns we find and beam directly into that cargo hold,” Zir suggested warily. “Missing out on any risk to ourselves.”

“And possibly also missing out on any other slaves or hostages that might be hidden onboard. The crew shouldn’t give you any problems now after the bluff I threw at them.”

“Was it a bluff?”

Sasha didn’t answer, instead continuing with, “Push the Green Death’s engines to Maximum and shorten that ETA; I don’t give a shit if we burn out the warp coils and leave the hull caked in baryon particles, I don’t want this ship used by anyone ever again. I’ll send a message to Salem One on a secure channel from the Tailless.” She looked at Mori and Urad. “Has Eydiir patched you two up? Can you function for a little while longer?”

Both males looked at each other, nodding, though the Caitian added gently, “Are you- Are you okay, Sasha?”

Zir watched the Terran woman breathe in before replying, “I will be, Mru.” Sasha looked at the rest of them. “I will be if I know all of you can hold it together and remember we’re all on the same side. It’s been rough, I get it, but we still have work to do. I’ll get some rations and other items replicated and bring them back to the hostages, then take their names for the survivors’ list.”

Zir watched her start to leave, before Mori reached out to her, until Sasha waved off his attempt, turned and departed, ordering over her shoulder, “Get it done, Lt Dassene.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” She swallowed. What that woman has seen and done… that she could go through that, and still hold it all together… She turned back to the others. “Well? We have our orders.” To Tori she added, more sympathetically, “There’s a reason they call it ‘the Burdens of Command’. There are no ‘perks’ to it. And those in command deserve our respect, even if we don’t agree with what they do. The same respect you would want me to receive, no excuses.”

“Indeed,” Mori agreed, watching as Eydiir departed, following Sasha, before he turned to Zir, offering to each woman, “I’m sorry for what I said. We have our orders. Let’s fulfil them.”

*

Sasha went straight to the cockpit first; now that they were out in normal space, she could update Salem One. She collated the logs and data to date, added a cursory audio message tag and transmitted the package on a classified channel, not ready to have a conversation with anyone. Then she moved to the midsection of her flyer, ordering trays of food packs from the replicator.

Finally she moved to her quarters, stripping off her combat armour, weapons and other clothes and entering the adjacent head, and the stall, selecting the sonic shower option.

The invisible, rippling waves washed over her, casting down everything on her. Sweat, flakes, grime. Gore. Blood. 

That child slave’s blood.

The scent of it all.

Not the memories, though. Those were dug into her, intractable, inextricable. She would never lose them.

She sobbed.

She slumped to the floor of the stall and sobbed and wailed and screamed until she grew hoarse, the waves still washing over her.

Then they stopped. Distantly she heard the stall door sliding open. Distantly she felt Eydiir’s arms taking hold of her, lifting her back to her feet and guiding her into her quarters, where a fresh uniform had been laid out.

Saying nothing still, the nurse gave Sasha a hypospray injection, before helping her dress. Sasha soon felt the effects of the injection, a clearing of her brain fog… and of that lingering reminder to herself of how quickly, how easily she could get herself a drink.

She was back on her feet, feeling physically refreshed, at least. She embraced Eydiir, finding no adequate words, needing none, before taking a deep breath, nodding and guiding her Spirit Sister back to where the food packs waited to be carried to the survivors.

*

Counselor Kami Hrelle breathed in, counted to ten, and continued her exercises. Not that she was having any physical problems with her therapy; Doctor Masterson had been his usual brilliant self in fully repairing the damage caused by Cadet Boladede’s attack.

No, the only problems came from her husband Esek, who was hovering nearby like a Caitian kerserty hovering in mid-air over a fieldhopper, ready to swoop down and grasp their prey - or in Esek’s case, ready to swoop down and save her from some imagined weakness, despite the many safety features on the exercise machine. Despite her urging otherwise, he had been altering his busy schedule to spend more time with her, eating and exercising and picking up the cubs from school or the creche, always insisting that it was just coincidental. 

She understood his anxiety and insecurity, given what had happened, not to mention having sent Sasha, Zir and the others away on that rescue mission. It didn’t make it any less annoying.

Kami released her hold on the arm units and sat up. Immediately he stopped his own exercise routine and came over, as if he was connected to her unit as well. “Are you alright-”

She hissed at him, stopping him in his tracks. “Yes! I just want some water, Mother Damn It!”

Esek held up his paws, eyes wide with an expression of innocence. “Okay, okay, Sugartail. Don’t get worked up about it.” 

She threw him a curse in Old Caitian, one that the others currently in the gym wouldn’t understand but at least comprehend the context.

Then his combadge chirped, and he looked relieved for the distraction. “Hrelle here.”

Captain Sternhagen’s voice filled the air. “Esek, we’ve received a message from Lt Cmdr Hrelle: they’ve been successful, and are on their way back.”

Kami’s pulse rate quickened at the announcement: everyone had been on tenterhooks about the rescue mission, it would be an immense relief.

Except Esek didn’t look relieved. “What else, Captain?”

Kami could almost see the face of the Station Chief. “There were… complications: the Green Death apparently attacked the SS Calvera and looted the passengers, crew and cargo, so Lt Cmdr Hrelle had to take over the Orion ship, and they’re bringing it back with them.”

Esek bolted to his feet, his tail snapping behind him. “Yellow Alert, summon Captain Weynik, Cmdr Somerset and Lt Cmdr Salvo to Ops. I’m on my way.” He departed without ado.

Kami rose and followed, catching up with him on the way to the nearest station turbolift. “What’s wrong?”

His scent had changed profoundly, soaking with anxiety. “Weren’t you listening? One of our ships was attacked-”

She reached out and clasped him by the forearm, stopping him in his tracks without any direct effort on her part. “You can deal with that sort of crisis in your sleep. What’s really upset you?”

Her husband’s muzzle tightened, and she saw him glance around to ensure they weren’t being heard, his voice a low growl. “I sent Sasha because their mission relied on the stealth properties of her ship and selected crew: sneak in, rescue Zir’s family, sneak out. If the situation changed and she had to take over the Green Death, that means they almost certainly had to directly confront the hundred-plus crew of a heavily-armed Orion pirate ship. How many of our people are coming back alive from that shitstorm?”

Kami regarded him, reading his subtle change of scent to one specifically leaned towards Sasha, understanding; she hadn’t known the young Terran as long as Esek, of course, but her years of intimacy with Sasha had bonded the two of them like mother and daughter. 

Kami regarded him, before touching her own combadge. “Hrelle to Captain Sternhagen: were there any personal messages from Lt Cmdr Hrelle attached to that transmission from her?”

“No, Counselor. There are her official logs, the tactical data and data evidence of the Green Death’s attack on the Calvera, but no personal messages. Why?”

“Never mind. Thank you, Hrelle out.” She focused on Esek again. “I’m not saying that it would have been a summer vacation in Kamar-Taj for Sasha and the others, but if any of her crew had been killed or seriously wounded, she would have done what you would have done in that situation, and leave a declaration to her commanding officer, probably also taking full responsibility for it even if it wasn’t really the case.

And that sense of misplaced responsibility is extending to how you’re feeling now: ‘I sent Sasha’. You know that these situations can change at a moment’s notice, and you can never account for the unexpected, but you’ll still feel guilty about it. Accept it, and accept that you have also equipped your daughter – our daughter – with the strength and skills to deal with whatever is thrown at her. Accept it, and then move on to what you do have power over.”

Esek regarded her and her words, before relaxing and pulling her into an embrace. “Thank you. Now stop looking for excuses to not do your exercises, you lazy kussik.”

He barely dodged the swipe she took as he departed.

*

They had found an empty cargo bay away from the less salubrious environment of Engineering to house the survivors, providing food and a respite, as well as bathroom breaks to a hastily-replicated unit and even a small entertainment system. Names were collected, to be transmitted to Salem One prior to their arrival, and collated by Cadet C’Riir.

He had done it. He had supported Lt Dassene and the others when the Orions had invaded Engineering. He had been afraid, but stood his proverbial and literal ground, buying time for the battle to be won, before he returned to his work in assisting the talented Ensign Emoto in completing the Auxiliary Control workstation. Now they were headed home, and he felt like he had made up for the abominable actions of his former Squadmate Boladede-

“Did you see me, Hesh?”

He paused, forcing his tail to stop twitching in anxiety at the constant babble from Lock Trythi, who was accompanying him in helping with the survivors… but she seemed more interested in talking about her performance in the battle. Her ebullience was as strong as her musk. “No one else here could have slithered under and around that chair near the Klystron Generator! But we Sandarans are triple-jointed, and we have phenomenal control over our musculature!”

“So I noticed.” He motioned for her to bring over another food pack for one of the younger survivors.

She did, wearing gloves now to ensure she didn't accidentally transmit any of the emetic toxin she apparently secreted on her palms during stress, her round black eyes lighting up as she continued. “And then I managed to claw my way through the exosuit of that one Orion, and get my paw inside to touch his skin and deliver my toxin! It’s most potent!”

“I noticed that too.” C’Riir’s stomach twisted at the memory of removing the exosuit helmet on the Orion, the interior coated in vomit, to clean him up. He focused on the scents of fear, of trauma, he was picking up from some of the younger survivors. “Maybe we should stop talking about the fighting?”

“Oh, but I must talk, Hesh! I must sing! My people are warriors, we relish battle! We are fierce! We are the Jewel of the Mel Cevu Cluster, Vanguard of the Balelkess, Defeater of the Khas Dustauter, Sovereign of-”

He spun in place, towering over her, his tail twitching in anger behind him. “No.”

Trythi drew back, blinking. “Pardon?”

C’Riir wrinkled his snout. “I saw you disobey Lt Dassene’s orders to stay back. You risked your life, our lives!”

“But I was victorious-”

“That’s not the point! Starfleet is not here for you to seek battle or glory or whatever else drives you! We are all part of a family now, one that is greater than the sum of our parts! But only if we all work together! And you had better get that into your head quickly, because my squad has already been disgraced by our last Security Cadet, we won’t let that happen twice!”

Trythi’s expression, her own demeanour, seemed to deflate, and a part of him felt regret, having remembered his own youthful exuberance at leaving the classroom and doing real work, and accepting that a part of his anger stemmed from Boladede. But she had to understand, before it was too late. 

Finally she responded, her voice low, her eyes averted. “My people teach us that pride can be as lethal to us as a blade in the back; clearly, I have forgotten that. Please accept my apologies, Cadet C’Riir.”

He smiled now, clasping her shoulder. “You keep calling me Hesh. You’re in Macbeth Squad now, as well as Starfleet. We’ll be honoured to have you as a part of both.”

*

Tori moved the industrial sonic cleaner around Urad’s thighs again, removing the blood and grime from him in place of an actual sonic shower available, as he stood with his arms outstretched above her. “Please be careful with that device around my more sensitive places, Little Comrade. I can feel the vibrations even through my inguinal pouch.”

Tori snorted. “Like I’m ever gonna get within a light year of your trouser snake. One of your hard-ons could probably knock me across the room.” She moved around to his back, glad that his armour and uniform had trapped most of the evidence of his battle in the Cargo Holds and the plasma fire. “You’re a lucky bastard, you know. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone who asked.”

“I know, Comrade Tori, and I appreciate it.”

“Not that I can imagine anyone else asking for something like this,” she added, passing the cleaner up his back and between his shoulders.

“Not even Comrade Astrid?” he joked.

She chuckled. “Yeah, maybe Flygirl. You wanna get down on your knees so I don’t have to put on high-altitude gear to climb up to your huge head, Mount Shitpile?”

He made a sound and complied, letting her continue her work on his shoulders and the back of his head, fighting and losing the battle to keep her banter going and not speak of more vulnerable subjects. “Were you… Were you okay? I mean, facing that fire? Facing the Orions-”

He continued facing forward, away from her, as he replied. “Yes.” He paused, and then amended, “No. I was not, and I must be honest, and if I cannot be honest with my best friend, I cannot be honest with anyone, including myself. My encounter with the Dragon broke me. I have been put back together again, but I will never be as I was before. I accept that… and I accept that this does not mean the end of me, that I am no worse than I was before… and that I can be proud of my scars, both without and within.”

She paused, staring at the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, try and do your best not to collect any more scars if you can help it, okay, Dickhead?”

“I will do my best.”

She kept staring, before ducking down under his left arm to come around to face him, this time face to face, throwing aside the cleaner to hug him fiercely, her voice cracking as she broke down. “I fucking mean it, Urad!”

His arms enfolded around her gently, protecting her and himself against anything in the Universe that might threaten them.

*

Dishu Dassene watched. 

She was a good observer, always had been. Her family had not been rich or influential, and she was not one of those Orion women blessed, or cursed, with the Pheromone Gene, so she was never the centre of serious attention from others, either as a potential mate or a potential property. 

Which was fine by her; she was free to watch, and use what she learned from watching to her own advantage, an advantage she carried into adulthood, meeting and marrying Vissol, seeing him for the honourable, loyal, trustworthy man that he was, with a shrewd business sense untainted by greed or impatience. And later, when she had Zir and then Haikiv, she could see the potential in both, encouraging their own gifts.

She could spot the shoplifters and the swindlers, the undercover Merchant Police and the Syndicate agents. She knew who to vote for in the elections, who to trust in any potential business propositions.

She could tell the difference between those who carried themselves with genuine confidence and authority, and those fuelled by hot air.

Dishu sat with her family and watched her daughter. She watched Zir fight. She watched Zir command. She watched Zir care for those under her authority and those under her protection.

And she watched and saw that Zir was in her element here. The young girl who had run away and smashed her mother’s dreams of making her a businesswoman, the best that Dishu could hope for her, had instead managed to forge for herself a far more important destiny.

“Dish?”

She looked up at her husband; the three of them sat on the floor of the cargo bay where they had been moved, food packs with some rather bland offerings on their laps or at their sides. “What?”

Vissol regarded her, concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“Hmm? Yes. Oh, yes.”

Between them, Haikiv had consumed the contents of his tray, and now was starting into what his mother had not touched. “Zir’s cool. Do you think she can get me in Starfleet-”

“No,” his parents replied simultaneously.

Just then Zir approached them, smiling and sitting down on the floor with them. “Sorry for leaving you for so long.”

“Don’t apologise for doing your job,” Dishu told her. “It’s a sign of weakness.”

Zir reacted to the response, smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mama. I wanted to give you an update about the Intelligence report we received from Orion: Uncle Roman had been alerted to your abduction, and secured the shop and the apartment.”

“Starfleet has spies on Orion?” Haikiv asked, eyes wide with wonder.

Zir winked at her brother. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

Their father breathed out. “Well, it’s a relief to hear Roman got to the place in time to keep it from being looted.”

“Now we just have to get back before he turns the shop into a Pheromone Dungeon,” Dishu quipped. Mention of returning made her turn to Zir. “When do you think we can get back home?”

The question made Zir crease her brow, her feelings on the idea of them going back to their homeworld clear. But she remained professional. “We’ll need to get some witness statements from all of you on Surinh Dag’s actions for the trial, the same as for the survivors of the Calvera, and we’ll have our Chief Medical Officer run some more checks on all of you, and get a message back to Uncle Roman. But then I’ll arrange for the transport home…” She paused, giving her little brother a slight smile. “I’m sure Haikiv is missing school and homework.”

He blew a raspberry at the notion.

Dishu nodded. “And how much will that cost us?”

Zir frowned now, as if she had never heard such a question before. “Cost? Nothing.”

Vissor smiled and shook his head. “No, no, I’m not having our daughter be out of pocket paying for our way. Give me a secure computer access to the Bank of Orion and-”

Zir raised an open hand to him. “Papa… you’re not paying, I’m not paying. No one is paying. Transport, food, clothing, housing, medical services, education, entertainment… no one goes without these things here. When you’re in need, Starfleet helps. In the time you’re with us on Salem One, I hope you’ll get to see that.”

“And what about the criminals who took us?” Dishu asked. “What if they threaten us again?”

Her daughter gave her a sober expression with her response. “Surinh Dag and the crew of the Green Death will be spending many long years in a Federation penal colony. And the Bel-Zon organisation they worked with are going to be dealt with. My commanding officer, Commodore Hrelle, will make sure of that.”

“Hrelle…” Vissor echoed. “I heard Surinh Dag talk about him. Hrelle was the same gladiator that Surinh Dag owned, yes? The Beast? The one we used to watch in the Deathmatches?”

“Yes,” Zir confirmed, sounding guilty.

Dishu felt concern rise within her, remembering the broadcasts. “And he’s… you’re safe around him?”

Now Zir smiled again. “Oh yes, Mama. We all are. The only ones who aren’t safe around him are those who threaten the innocent. Something his daughter has learned from him.”

“And you as well,” Her mother pointed out, smiling. “Though I’m certain you’ve been teaching these people a few things too. I’d expect nothing less from my daughter.”

*

Sasha was only half-paying attention to the final checks on the cockpit panels of the Tailless, confirming that the links to the various systems of the Green Death were now connected via the Auxiliary Control unit.

She would much rather be alone with the male beside her, holding him, speaking with him. Mru had been quiet, withdrawn, since the battle in the Midsection; she had witnessed his bestial side during that intense, bloody action. He had become something light years away from the kind, gentle, loving male she had fallen in love with, as necessary as it had been at the time, and she needed to reassure him. And herself. 

Fuck this… she turned, rose back to her feet, grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him up into a fierce embrace, whispering in Old Caitian, “I love you, Husband To Be.”

She felt his heart quicken against her chest as he hugged her back. “I love you, Wife to Be. I’m sorry.”

She drew back to face him, reverting to Federation Standard. “Sorry? For what?”

He swallowed her up with his eyes, his paw gently clasping the side of her head. “That Romulan cub… I saw and scented how it had affected you… I wanted to reach out, but it wasn’t appropriate-”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t that; I wasn’t ready for anyone.”

“Except Eydiir? I saw her follow you back here.”

She nodded, hearing the slight shift in his tone; was he jealous? “She’s my sponsor, to help me deal with my addiction. It’s not a reflection on you; she can be more objective and helpful than someone I’m physically and emotionally close to.” She stroked his muzzle, smiling slightly. “I promise I will never try to get in her pants. Unless, you know, it’s your birthday and you want to watch-”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Eydiir remarked, standing at the doorway into the cockpit, looking at each in turn. “Forgive the interruption of this tender moment, but you both require sleep, six hours minimum.”

Sasha frowned. “Six? No, sorry, can’t do that.”

“As you wish: eight hours now. Please, argue with the only one onboard who can relieve you of duty indefinitely instead of just temporarily.” The Capellan raised an eyebrow as Sasha looked ready to defy her, before closing her mouth again. “The important part of our mission has passed, you both will be busy on our return being debriefed, I will not supply you with any more stimulants, and there are others present who can keep an eye on things in the interim.” She grunted, crossing her arms. “You may engage in coitus should you require catharsis.”

“Oh, thank you, Bubulah.” She slipped an arm around Mru’s and started him out.

Eydiir however, stepped in to stop them, looking the Caitian over as if inspecting him. “Yes, yes it could work. You might do.”

His snout wrinkled at her. “Do? For what?” 

“I will be acting as Sasha’s bridesmaid for your wedding, and have read about the traditional Terran duties expected in such a role: offering emotional support, planning the bachelorette party, defending the bride from potential assassins-”

Sasha frowned again. “Are you sure you’ve read from the right sources?”

Eydiir seemingly ignored her, continuing to speak to Mru. “It is traditional that should the bride not be present at the wedding, the groom marries the bridesmaid. Should your betrothed catch the stray scent of fried foods somewhere and not appear for the ceremony, I fully expect you to honour tradition.”

Sasha tightened her hold on the Caitian and pushed him onward. “It’s a good thing she’s a nurse, she makes a shit comedian.”

*

“Commodore! They’ve arrived!”

He was already on his way to Airlock One, never stopping or slowing down as he tapped his combadge to respond to Captain Sternhagen. “Acknowledged, Kate. Ensure Doc Masterson and his team are fully prepared to deal with the survivors… and that Lt Cmdr Salvo and her team are fully prepared to deal with the Orions.”

“No problem. Um, are you sure you want to do this, Esek?”

He ground his teeth. “I wouldn’t miss this for the Galaxy. Hrelle out.”

He entered the anteroom of Airlock One, where two Security crewmen stood to attention, one of them responding to an alert on the door. “They're here, Sir.”

He straightened out his uniform. “Well, let’s have a look at him.”

A gesture, and then the airlock door parted, and Sasha and Zir stepped in, pushing a familiar figure ahead of them: an older, muscular Orion male, his face and clothes bloodied and bedraggled and generally looking like seven shades of shit, his walk tainted with a limp, his hands cuffed behind him.

Immediately Surinh Dag saw Hrelle standing there before him, and tried to affect a sneering, defiant expression… but Hrelle saw, and scented, the fear behind the mien.

His mind jumped back a lifetime ago, to when they first met, and Hrelle couldn’t help but use a derivation of Surinh Dag’s first words to him. “Well, now, look at what got dragged in to the cat…”

END