Surefoot 16: Day of the Dead

The tears came freely now. Then the sobs.

Sasha held her tightly.

*

Hrelle and T'Varik turned towards the Lounge doors. "T'Varik, I think we can safely assume that this is not some elaborate Halloween prank."

"Agreed, Sir." She drew her phaser, indicating two places in the archway. "I believe a sustained Level 5 phaser blast to these conduits will force the Lounge doors to open and free the rest of our crew."

"Sounds good." He raised his own phaser.

"Non, non, non, Capitaine Chatte."

Both officers turned at the voice, phasers raised at the appearance of the tall, tophatted figure, chuckling as he puffed on a thick black cigar. Hrelle barked, "Who are you? What are you doing on my ship?"

The skull-faced creature regarded them with bulging, lidless eyes. "I am Baron Samedi. And I have come for you."

Hrelle fired, the thick beam striking Samedi dead centre -- with no effect.

Quickly he adjusted the power level, nodding to T'Varik to do the same. Both of them fired again - again, with no effect.

Samedi laughed. "Stupide putain! Are you really trying to kill the Loa of the Dead? Suce ma bite!"

They lowered their phasers, T'Varik drawing out the tricorder on her belt and scanning the figure. "Anaphasic energy, Captain. And notice the necklace he is wearing."

He grunted, nodding towards the intruder. "Why are you attacking my crew?"

"Attacking? No, no, no, Mon Capitaine. I am judging. Or rather, their victims are judging them. Those who they have killed, or allowed to die, cry out from Beyond the Veil. And as the Guardian of the Dead, I know they cannot rest until justice is meted out."

"Justice?" Hrelle snarled. "What justice? What did Eydiir do wrong? Or C'Rash? Or Grev?"

Samedi laughed boisterously. "They knew!" He pointed his cigar at Hrelle. "And you know what YOU did, pute!"

"Me?" He swallowed, feeling something crawling into the back of his head, unable to shake it. "I did nothing-"

"Liar! Your hands are caked in blood! And Bondye has sent me to see you pay!"

"I do not know who this 'Bondye' is," T'Varik noted dryly, still scanning with her tricorder. "But I am aware that you are an anaphasic lifeform, not a figure from Terran beliefs."

"Diable pointu!" Samedi snapped. "Shall we look into your past, connard? All of the cadets you sent off to die in the depths of space, or under the blade of some Klingon or Cardassian, just to further your career? How much blood do you carry, chienne laide? Well?"

T'Varik ignored him, turning to Hrelle. "Sir, there is nothing to be gained by continuing to converse with the entity. We must free our crewmembers."

"Yeah. Yeah." He raised his phaser towards the archway again.

"Do that and I'll start beaming your little bastards into space!" Samedi threatened.

The officers faced him again, Hrelle murmuring, "No..."

"Oui, Capitaine Chatte. I have control over your systems." Samedi chuckled, puffing on his cigar. "And I'll start sending them to take a short, cold walk if you let them loose. Think you can save them all, gros bâtard?"

Hrelle lowered his phaser. "What do you want?"

Samedi produced another glass of rum from nowhere, drinking from it before replying. "Go to your bridge. Alone. Bring your weapon with you if you like. There's some old acquaintances that are waiting to see you."

Hrelle's heart raced. "Okay. Just leave my people alone."

"Captain, no-" T'Varik looked to him.

He looked back. "Don't, Commander. He has control over the ship; we're back to Square One. Understood?"

She stared for a moment, before finally nodding. "Yes, Sir."

Hrelle glared at Samedi once more, before turning and heading down the corridor towards the Bridge, trying to ready himself for what he would find.

And still not being adequately prepared for what awaited him: a ring of dead men and women, some in old-fashioned Starfleet ship uniforms, others in civilian clothes, surrounding the inner circle where the Captain's Chair sat.

They parted for Hrelle as he entered - and he saw Velkovsky's unconscious form on the floor near the helm. He rushed to her, knelt and checked her pulse, as Samedi appeared from the shadows. Anger creased the Caitian's furred face. "Why her? What did she do to you?"

The spectre tilted his head as he seemed to regard the unconscious woman, until his top hat threatened to fall off his head. "There was a lover - and a rival - who died in a racer accident when she was younger. She goaded him into becoming reckless. Justice has to be met, Capitaine Chatte. For her, and for you."

"Justice?" He rose to his feet, hands balled into fists. "This isn't justice! It's some sick fantasy of yours! There's no point to it!"

Samedi blew out grey smoke at Hrelle. "Oh, you might well say that, Mon Capitaine, considering the blood on your furry little claws. So many, many have died because of you. I could fill a fleet of ships like this with the souls of those you have sent to my realm."

"Balls. You're no Spirit of the Dead."

"Va te faire foutre!" He threw aside the cigar and pointed a bony finger at the Caitain. "I have crossed between this realm and my own for centuries! On Earth, and now out here, on this ship of cats and pigs and pixies and creatures better suited for nightmares! Doubt me, enfoiré? Ask them! Sit! Sit and face your victims!"

Hrelle considered his options, accepted he had none, and sat.

"Captain?" one of the dead began, stepping forward. Hrelle looked at him, knowing the tall, skinny, fair-haired Terran male even in his dead, irradiated state. "Hello, Beanpole."

First Officer Nathan Labine snarled, his Cajun accent sounding like it was dragged through a New Orleans graveyard. "You remembered, Captain. I'm touched. Too bad you didn't remember other things - like your responsibilities to protect your crew."

Then there was Communications Officer Brigid O'Reilly, dead eyes smouldering. "The Bel-Zon raped me, Captain. Tortured me. Then when they were done, they dumped me into their disposal unit like trash. Because of you."

The Andorian Navigator Darath Shekrev stabbed a rotted finger at Hrelle. "It was always supposed to be my final mission, Captain - but I was supposed to survive and return to my homeworld to marry and start my own business! Instead I suffered and died!"

"We all did," Tactical Officer Miles Ellerton added. "Because of you."

"All 130 of us, Captain," Science Officer Mohammed Rabin clarified, icy tears streaming down a gaunt cold face. "Because of you."

Other voices joined, all accusing. All correct. Hrelle knew them, of course: the crew of his former ship the Furyk, called out on a false distress signal, ambushed by the criminal organisation the Bel-Zon, attacked with spatial charges and aceton assimilators that pumped hard radiation into the ship, killing those the Bel-Zon hadn't abducted and tortured, Hrelle included, for information on how to raid Station Salem Four for its store of trilithium.

And of course Hrelle remembered. How could he not? It had been the start of six long, terrible years of torture and slavery for him. But at least he came out of it alive. None of his crew did. And though he knew they weren't real, that they were edified by Samedi to torment him for some insane reason, he couldn't help but react on an emotional level, and let the guilt gnaw at him.

"And don't forget us, Captain." A new voice spoke up, a spectre in civilian clothes. "In life I was Zefram Mikkelsen, a maintenance worker on Salem Four. I was a husband, a father. I was alive, and happy. Then you let the Bel-Zon raid the station. I was caught in the crossfire. It was my oldest child's birthday the next day. They had a funeral instead."

"I was there, too," another vision contributed. "We counted on Starfleet to protect us. We counted on you, Captain!"

"Do you know how much suffering your failures have cost?" another demanded.

He knew. And if he hadn't, it was all being spelled out to him now. And more and more voices followed: angry, sorrowful, frustrated, condemning.

And rightfully so. Each one struck him like a nail hammered into his skin. There was no arguing or denying it. He had failed them. He had failed them all.

It was a mob. A dead mob, crying for justice on behalf of their lost loves, their lost lives.

He was drowning.

"Esek," spoke a new, totally familiar voice.

He spun in his chair, heart racing, nose twitching from a scent he had forgotten. His throat was desert dry. "N-No..."

Hannah Eismann Hrelle stood behind him. Every part of her was just as he remembered: the scent, like tanglewood and trilium, the burr of honey-blonde hair, the short nose, the winter-blue eyes and dimpled chin and freckles and the way her combadge would never quite hang right on her jacket and how she would stand leaning on her right foot and jut out her chin when she was angry... like now. Mother's Cubs, no- please, no, not her, not this-

"Yes, Papa Bear," she goaded sharply. "Me." She stepped around the other dead people, never taking her cold, dead eyes off him. "You can't possibly leave me out of this, can you? Your wife? Your Beloved? The one you swore to love and cherish and protect forever?"

He felt his claws extend, dig into the arms of his chair as he clutched it for all his life. "H-Hannah..."

"I WAS GOING TO HAVE YOUR CHILD!" she screamed

"P-Please..."

*

T'Varik had reached Engineering when her handheld communicator chirped. "T'Varik here."

"Commander, this is Sasha. I'm with Kami. Baron Samedi was here."

The Vulcan stopped. "Is she alright?"

Now Kami's voice broke in. "I'm fine, T'Varik, but we've been doing research, working out what the Baron wants."

T'Varik proceeded to the panel she wanted. "It is an anaphasic lifeform, Counselor-"

"We know, they're very rare, but there have been documented cases that all share similar traits: the lifeforms are all energy-based, can usually create physical forms and objects, at least for short periods... and they subsist on emotions."

"Indeed?"

"There was a case, involving one that lived on fear and terror; it survived for centuries on Earth and other planets, possessing people to commit murders under notorious identities such as Jack the Ripper, Beratis and Kesla. Another lived on hate and aggression; it had taken over the original Enterprise and contrived to trap Klingons onboard to fight Kirk's crew to feed itself, even creating swords for them to use on each other. A third was found to need lust, and the Daedalus discovered it being worshipped as a fertility god on Nabron III-"

"And this one seems to require guilt," T'Varik concluded, opening a panel and peering inside.

"Yes," Sasha confirmed now. "The more intense the better, even if it means the victim is driven to self-destruction. The necklace has a reported history over the centuries of inducing its owners to see visions and eventually commit suicide; we are concluding that Samedi somehow exists in a dormant state in the necklace, arising when it detects suitable... food. Presumably it had pushed Ms Martis to kill herself."

T'Varik stopped. "Counselor... I would not normally intrude on confidential matters, but what is your assessment of the Captain's present psychological state?"

There was a pause before a response came. "Why are you asking?"

"Samedi threatened to begin killing crewmembers if Captain Hrelle did not face him alone on the bridge."

"And you let him go?"

"Samedi has locked us out of the ship's controls; Captain Hrelle gave me a surreptitious order to regain control through the Square One Protocols. We must regain control and free the rest of the crew. Unless you believe the Captain is in imminent danger?"

"I- Samedi doesn't seem able to actual control people, but he can tap into memories to create these illusions. Eydiir, C'Rash, Grev had guilt in their pasts, but maybe it was only enough to nourish Samedi, and put them into their current comatose states. If the guilt is strong enough, intense enough-"

"Have you discovered a means of stopping Samedi?"

"We're still looking."

"Keep me apprised. T'Varik out."

She returned to her task, preventing her mind from calculating the odds of Captain Hrelle's survival. He had undergone much. But he was strong. He would survive.

It was hope. Illogical. But she accepted it anyway.

*

"Did you see the pictures of my body, Esek?" the image of Hannah taunted. "The disruptor burns that punched through my body as the Bel-Zon thieves raided us? Did you know the pain I suffered? Because of you?"

He thought he could handle this. He thought he had already faced his inner demons and conquered them. But he was wrong. It was something else to see them standing around him, fresh, strong, unignorable-

Samedi stood nearby, chuckling. "Oui, Capitaine Chatte. No matter where in the Galaxy you might flee, you can never escape your past. It always follows. Like the tip of your tail."

"Look at me, Esek!" Hannah demanded, capturing his unwilling attention once more as she indicated the rest of the dead. "We suffered because of you! We continue to suffer! There is no peace for us while you live!"

Samedi puffed on his cigar. "No peace, Chatte. Unless you finally do what you should have done years ago."

"D-Do?"

"Oui." Samedi leaned in, leering eagerly. "This is your chance to make amends. And your chance at redemption literally lies in your lap."

He glanced down... to see his phaser in his lap.

He picked it up, held it tentatively.

"Please, Esek," Hannah urged. "I've suffered long enough! We all have! You don't have the right to keep living, to have a family and be happy! It's not fair!"

"She's right," Samedi agreed. "End it."

"End it..." the other dead chanted in unison, their voices rising as they repeated the demand. "End it. End it! END IT!"

Hrelle nodded to himself. It would be easy...

Then he looked up at Samedi. "Kiss my furry ass."

The spectre drew back as the chanting stopped. "What?"

"You heard me." Hrelle rose to his feet, phaser still in hand. "Nice try, Bonehead. You dredged up a level of guilt in me that I didn't think still existed. And if you'd got me a year or two ago, I might have succumbed, like so many other of your victims, I'll bet.

But I'm a different man now. I've accepted what I've done, what I cannot change. I have a new wife, a child on the way, a family, a ship and crew. I have responsibilities, and I cannot abrogate them to ease my own conscience. And I've learned that guilt is a useful tool if it helps you improve yourself or serve justice; killing myself would serve neither purpose."

"It would serve justice!" Samedi insisted. "Look at them! Your victims!"

"No," Hrelle denied calmly. "They're illusions, pulled by you from my mind for some dark purpose. But they're not real." He glanced at the image of Hannah. "If you had really been my first wife, you would have asked about Sasha."

The phantasm started, as if the thought had only just occurred to her. "Sasha?"

"Oh, you remember your own daughter now, do you? She's alive and well and serving onboard this very ship. If I had done the deed and phasered my head off, would you have wanted her to find my body? To have her suffer? What about my new wife? Would you want her to find me?"

Now she reacted, speechless but clearly conflicted.

He nodded. "Yeah. Whether you're really her spirit or just a construct from my memories, in either case, Hannah would be thinking of others before herself."

"Captain," Samedi growled. "I will have what I deserve."

"Oh, I hope so, bubulah, because what you deserve is a Galaxy-sized ass kicking." He bared his teeth. "Is this what you have planned for the rest of us? To sail through the Galaxy being tortured until we succumb to self-destruction?" He glanced back at an increasingly disoriented-looking Hannah. "He'll do this to Sasha, too. You know this."

Hannah shook her head. "N-No- I won't-"

Suddenly all power, all lights, went out, and for a moment, Hrelle thought he had been transported away, or even killed. But then they returned, this time at full power, and Hrelle knew that his message to T'Varik was understood. "Computer: Emergency Override One, Senior Officers Only!"

"Acknowledged."

Then Hrelle glared at Samedi. "It's over, Bonehead. You're no longer controlling my ship, we are. And you're not pushing me to suicide with guilt. I have too much to live for."

Samedi spat away his cigar like a petulant child, cursing incoherently. But then he stopped, hissing with delight. "Oui. Oui, Mon Capitaine. You do."

He vanished, as did his zombie horde - except, inexplicably, Hannah.

He looked to her. "What was that about?"

She frowned - triggering an intense memory in him of the real Hannah having the same expression whenever she was confused about something, and didn't like the feeling - until she paled. "He's going to kill your child!"

Hrelle was racing towards the doors. They didn't open quickly enough. He was certain he felt something crack in his shoulder as he burst through the still-narrow gap.

*

Kami set aside her remaining tea. "Thanks, Sash." She rose to her feet, feeling better now. "For everything." She approached the girl. "Perhaps we should go help the others now?"

The girl frowned. "Dad said you should stay here, for your own safety."

The Caitian shrugged. "Samedi's already proven I'm not safe staying in here, didn't he?" The lights went out in the room, with a distinct beeping sound. "What in the Seven Hells-"

"It's a Square One Protocol," Sasha identified. "They're regaining control of the ship systems-"

The lights returned.

Samedi was between them.

He smacked Kami across the face with inhuman strength, sending her sprawling to the floor. Sasha swung out herself - but he caught her hand, sending a pulsing charge of energy through her arm and into the rest of her, making her cry out and collapse, unconscious.

"Bien, Bien," he noted to himself. "I can deal with you too, Ma Petite Pute. Kill his whole family." He looked to Kami. "But first, Mama Chatte..." He knelt beside her, grinning as he placed his hands on either side of her belly, preparing to crush the child in her womb.

Instead, as he touched her... he screamed.

Hrelle arrived in time to see Samedi propelled backwards as if struck by a meteor, his very form disintegrating. Hrelle kept as much control as he could he knelt and checked his wife's pulse, hitting his combadge and barking, "Medical Emergency to my quarters! NOW!" He checked Sasha next, his heartbeat only beginning to slow down as he confirmed they were both not seriously hurt.