Surefoot 32: Criminal Acts

"No," Hrelle cut in. "We're not. We came to the assistance of a vessel in immediate need. We're not going to provide you with free maintenance and valeting for the rest of your ships. Especially when these people have no need to leave. There's no danger of invasion."

Maractor shrugged, stopping to shovel some wriggling grubs into his mouth before replying. "So you say, Caitian. Of course, you wouldn't want Starfleet's image to be tarnished with the reports of massive defeats and loss of life along the Elasian and Antares Fronts-"

"Nothing's happened there!" Weynik snapped. "That's just more lies you're spreading, to scare people into paying exorbitant fees to risk travelling in your clapped-out ore freighters!"

"I'm not responsible for what people choose to believe without corroborating it!"

"No, but you're responsible for spouting it in the first place! And those who can't afford your evacuation fees still go broke buying your drugs, your guns-"

"And our survival kits!" Maractor added helpfully. "We'll convert any room in your home into a shelter, provide suits to protect against Klingon nerve gas-"

Revulsion twisted Hrelle's guts. "How can you get away with that? The planetary government must realise that you're feeding the people lies!"

The Ferengi regarded him for a moment, before turning his head and barking, "Venear! Bring me my beetle snuff!"

From the corner of the room, a shockingly young-looking human female with pinned-up sable hair and clad in clothing as skimpy as the others rushed up, clutching an elaborately-engraved gold box, ascending the dais but dropping her head to hold up the box to him, as he explained, "Here, a Deal is a Deal. Look at Venear here."

He took the snuff box from her, and then reached out, took her chin between thumb and forefinger and raised it up to show a face of a girl still in adolescence, who obviously did not like being touched. "Venear wanted to get her family offworld. They couldn't afford the full fees... so she agreed to remain behind and... work off what was owed." He looked at her. "Isn't that right, my dear?"

She swallowed, flushing with obvious humiliation at the attention of the men from Starfleet. "Yes, Sir."

Maractor grunted - then slapped her face, sending her sprawling.

Hrelle and Weynik stepped forward, hands balled into fists as Maractor chuckled.

But the young woman looked up. "No! I'm okay! Please!"

Weynik held up a hand to her. "You don't have to stay with him! He's lied, cheated-"

"She knows, Little Man," Maractor informed him gleefully. "She's no idiot. But like I said, a Deal is a Deal. If she reneges now, the results for her would be... most unfortunate."

As Venear helped herself back to her feet, the Ferengi continued. "Gentlemen... this is Paradise for one such as I. It's the Ferengi Dream made flesh: a place where you can rise to make a fortune, through proper exploitation and bribery to the right people.

Of course the government knows what I'm doing! But I'm feeding the local economy! And I have the blessing of the Orion Syndicate! I can do what I want! No one has to book passage, or buy my drugs or guns or survival equipment!

And as this is an Independent World, the Federation has no say here. And neither do you.

That is why I invited you here, Starfleet: because I know how your kind think, and I wanted to give you fair warning not to interfere here. Mr Elchee, show them out."

The human stepped up - reluctantly. "Gentleman- please-"

They stared at him - until their attention was drawn to the Hupryians stepping up to them.

Hrelle and Weynik exchanged glances, before turning and following Elchee back to the lift. Once inside, Hrelle ignored the monitoring devices to focus on Elchee. "It seems you were right; Maractor is an amazing businessman."

"Yeah," Weynik agreed. "Such a role model. Though I think he's missing out on a lucrative market: funerals. He's certainly making a demand for those here."

Elchee kept his gaze fixed on the cityscape outside as they descended, though he did speak, albeit in a soft, embarrassed voice. "He, ah, has Maractor Morticians."

The Captains were striding away in disgust from the building and the man without further ado, but then stopped when he called after them, "I have family."

They stopped, looked at each other, and then turned around to face him, Hrelle asking, "Pardon?"

Elchee swallowed, the conflict clear on his face. "I- I have family. A partner, and we, ah, plan on having a child in the future. I- I don't necessarily like some of the things Maractor does. But what can I do?"

"I don't know," Weynik countered. "What can you do?"

"I'll tell you," Hrelle added, before the man could respond, assuming he would. "You can stay part of the problem, or you can be part of the solution. Still, why should you change now? I bet you have a nice comfortable life for you and your family. Enjoy it."

The Caitian turned away, Weynik making an effort to catch up with him. "A little harsh on him back there, weren't you? He's just a subordinate."

"No he's not. He's an accomplice. I've seen his type on Orion and elsewhere: people who might not make the hits or produce the drugs, but they support the people who do. And they're just as bad in my books."

"Are you planning on launching yourself back into orbit on the sheer power of your righteous anger?"

"No, I'm going to the Federation News Service offices here in Crescent City, and let them know what's going on. They can do something about this."

Federation News Service Building, Crescent City:

"We can't do anything about this."

The Captains stared in disbelief at the Editor, Weynik replying, "Mr Vincenzo, Maractor is killing hundreds, thousands of people with his businesses, and threatening so many more-"

Tony Vincenzo was a stocky, middle-aged human with swarthy, hangdog looks, receding black hair, and the harried expression of a man eternally late for an appointment. He rose from behind his desk. "You think I don't know that? It disgusts me that so many people here are buying into his garbage! His so-called news service is sensationalist, paranoid propaganda! We do our best to counter it with the facts, but when some people have their minds made up about a subject, they tend to stick with those sources that support it, rather than challenge it. Especially when they have a minimal education, like so many people on Farius Prime."

"But he's putting it out simply to make profits in his other ventures! Evacuations, guns, shelters, medicines-"

Vincenzo nodded. "And drugs. And prostitution. And insurance. I've had reporters looking into it since I was posted to this cesspit! But I have nothing, no proof, just allegations!"

"What about the Farius Prime authorities?" Hrelle asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

"Which ones? The government, or the Orion Syndicate who own them?" Vincenzo shook his head. "Gentlemen, I'm very busy." He moved to his office doorway and called out, "Carl! Where's Carl?" He looked back at them. "I'm sorry you wasted your time here. Just... forget about this place. If people want to buy into alarmist crap, you can't stop them."

Hrelle looked to Weynik, before silently departing. Once outside, Weynik blinked into the afternoon light. "Well, we tried, Wide Load. We can't change the Galaxy." he slapped Hrelle's rear. "Come back with me to the Starsong for dinner. Naida's been asking about her furry uncle. She has such affection for you."

"Fatso!" The little Roylan's eyestalks fixed on Hrelle and he entered with Weynik, and raced into the Caitian's outstretched arms as he knelt to pick her up and hug her.

Despite his foul mood, Hrelle couldn't help but smile at the love radiating from the child - and amusement at the reminder that his old friend was both the child's father and mother, having been born parthenogenically during a time of personal stress.

Then Naida wriggled in his grasp, looking around. "Where's Misha?"

"Oh, he's still on Earth with his Mama." At her crestfallen reaction, he added, "But they'll be joining us soon. Then we can arrange some sleepovers, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay, Fatso."

He set her down again to return to her toys on the floor, Hrelle looking at Weynik, who shrugged. "I don't know where she gets that sort of disrespectful talk from, Tubby."

Hrelle grunted - his nose twitching as he sniffed around Weynik's quarters, his tail twitching now as he glanced at his friend again. "It smells like Naida's not the only one having sleepovers."

Weynik moved to his drinks cabinet, opening a whiskey decanter and pouring some dark amber liquid into two tumblers. "I don't know what you mean, Captain Hrelle."

"Oh, I think you do, Fun Size." He accepted the glass, prepared to enquire further-

-Until the door to Weynik's quarters slid open, and his Tactical Officer entered without preamble, Calli Hrelle smiling. "Hello again, Cousin." She drew up behind Weynik, embracing him and rubbing the size of her muzzle affectionately against his facial fins, purring. Then she moved to Naida. "Come on, Sweetheart, let's get changed and take these two men to the Mess Hall!"

As the females entered the adjacent bedroom and the door slid shut, Hrelle looked at his old friend again. "Still don't know what I mean?"

The Roylan smiled. "Did I forget to tell you we're married?"

Hrelle's jaw dropped open. "WHAT? Married? Really? You? How? Why? When? Who else knows?"

"Yes. Married. Really. Me. Via subspace channels. Because we love each other. About four months ago. My father, Starfleet Command and most of my crew. Any other questions?"

"Yes! Why didn't you let us know sooner? Kami and I would have made such a fuss over you!"

"Because I'm not the type who likes the fuss, as you well know. I prefer to stay low-key - no jokes about my height, please?"

"Would I do that?"

"Calli came onboard the Starsong after that business with you going into Oubliette Space with Naida. After that happened, I'd begun thinking about... being alone. Calli and I got along well from the start, helped by my prior experience with other Caitians... even mangy toms like you. You don't mind my strengthening my ties with your family, do you?"

Hrelle looked down at him... and smiled, raising his glass. "You were already my brother. Here's to you both."

They drank, Hrelle making appreciative sounds at the fiery taste. "Well, now I can impart upon you my encyclopedic knowledge of Successful Living With Caitian Females."

Weynik grunted as he returned the glasses. "I've been doing quite well without any of your dubious advice, thanks..." But then he looked back at him and asked, "Do all Caitian females like to massage their mates? Calli loves to do it, to help me relax, she's almost obsessed with it."

Hrelle smiled. "It's common female behaviour during the first few months of a bonding."

"A show of love?"

"Of course... as well as a way of marking you as belonging to her, and unavailable to anyone else. Female palms produce a lot of pheromones."

"Marking me?"

Hrelle smiled. "Your scent will soon say Property of Calli to any Caitian who smells you."

Before the Roylan could respond, Calli and Naida returned, the females beaming as Calli announced, "Ready, boys?"

The Starsong's Mess Hall was much larger than the Surefoot's, decorated and providing the quartet with a private table where they ate, laughed, and listened to the Captains' tales of their past exploits since their days at the Academy.

The last prompting Calli to point out, "I've heard crewmembers talk about something that happened with you two years ago, involving cloaked Cardassian raiders."

Hrelle laughed. "Yes, I remember that! Sasha busted the balls of Wey-hey's First Officer Ibanez!"

Naida looked up from her beef noodles. "Balls?"

"Basketballs," Weynik replied quickly, glaring at Hrelle. "My former First Officer had these basketballs that Sasha busted."

"Anyway," Calli continued. "The crew seemed to think that this was the first time you met. Why'd you let them think that?"

Hrelle and Weynik looked to each other, Hrelle explaining, "It's a long story, and not for younger and more impressionable ears." His combadge chirped. "Hrelle here."

"Captain, Commander Zawati here. Chief Grev is about to commence purging of the Ferengi theta power cores, but believes he can speed up the process by shutting down the warp core and using its own transkinetic chamber."

Hrelle nodded, his good humour evaporated at the reminder of the Ferengi. He turned to the windows, seeing the planet below. A planet that, as far as he was concerned, was as much under attack as if the Klingons were in orbit alongside the Starfleet vessels.

"Do you need our help?" Weynik offered. "Our chambers are bigger than yours."

"Boaster." Louder now, he replied, "Tell the Chief to hold fire until I return, Commander. I'll be beaming back in a few moments. Hrelle out." He rose. "Thanks for the food and the company, folks."

Weynik rose as well. "You're going? You barely finished your shuris pie."

"Let Naida finish it off; it'll put fur on her chest." He waved them off. "I'll make my own way to your Transporter Room. Catch ya later, Short Round."

Weynik and Calli exchanged looks as Hrelle departed, their silence broken by Naida reaching for the remains of Hrelle's pie and declaring, "Furry chest!"

USS Surefoot, Security Suite:

C'Rash marched into her workplace, tightening the cord around her dressing gown once more as she strode up to the Equipment Lockers, where Hrelle was standing, retrieving items and placing them in a satchel. "What do you think you're doing?"

He never looked at her. "I'm being a commanding officer who doesn't have to answer to subordinates. How am I doing so far?"

"What's going on? I heard earlier you not only stopped Grev from purging those power rods quicker, you've ordered a Level 1 Diagnostic of the ships computers! That'll keep us hanging around here for at least another six hours if not more! And now I get an alert to an unauthorised access of the special Starfleet Intelligence equipment locker!"

He still didn't look at her. "It's not unauthorised. I'm the Captain."

She drew closer. "Omnikeys, data leeches, non-Starfleet issue phasers- what are you going to do with all that?"

"Misha keeps a diary detailing all of his romantic conquests. I was going to break into it and learn the secrets of his success." He closed the locker, slung the satchel under his arm and started out. "Good night, Lieutenant."

But she reached out and grabbed his arm, finally capturing his gaze with her own. "Uncle Esek, I'm worried about you. Being away for so long from Aunt Kami and your cubs, that business with the Klingons. You're getting more and more reckless."

He stared at her, wanting to bark at her for her reminding him of the recent past... except that he saw the concern, the love, in her eyes. He reached up and gently patted her hand... before removing it. "Thanks, cub. But you don't have to worry, I'm just on a little intelligence gathering mission. No one is going to get killed. No one is even going to see me. And if I'm successful, we can prevent another potential tragedy like what we almost had with the Easy Money."

"This is an independent planet; if you get caught down there committing a crime-"

"It's no different from when we were gathering intelligence against the Bel-Zon on the So'na station."

"No? That was an authorised action by Starfleet. Is this?"

He paused, before smiling and patting her on the shoulder. "Good night, C'Rash."

He felt her eyes on the back of his head as he departed.

Grev couldn't beam him directly into his target - there were anti-transporter and communicator security screens around the top floors of Maractor Tower - but he managed to get Hrelle in a supply room on one of the lower floors, and his borrowed equipment allowed him to open the doors and find the stairwell to the upper floors, while his Caitian vision let him see in the dark, his other senses and memory letting him move around Maractor's office, taking him to the computer on the huge marble desk. He set up his equipment to attempt to bypass the security-

A sound made him freeze, draw his compact phaser and aim it towards the stairwell... only to lower it when his nose told him it was- "Weynik?"

The diminutive Captain approached, his voice low. "Esek, what the hell are you doing?"

Hrelle returned to his work, noting the device's apparent success, as it sought out the necessary files. "The News Service needs proof about Maractor's actions, the faking of the news on his media channels, the full scope of how he's profiting on fear..."

"We can't be here!"

But Hrelle was only half-listening, frowning at the screen.

Weynik drew up next to him. "What is it?"

"This was... easy. Very easy. This is false data, a diversion." He peered at the data scrolling down as it fed into his Siphon.

"Too easy?" Weynik prompted.

Hrelle nodded, setting off a computer virus and packing up the equipment. "I think we should get out of here-"

Suddenly from the shadows, huge figures emerged, charging...

"GORN!" Weynik shouted, pushing the desk chair in the direction of one of them.

The huge, olive-skinned reptoids charged, moving faster than any Hrelle had ever encountered before, as he raised his phaser and fired point blank.

The beam went through the Gorn racing towards him, and the lack of scent confirmed, "They're holograms!"

His Gorn torpedoed into him, its silvery, segmented eyes glowing as its jaw opened and his heavy body slamming him down and knocking the phaser from his hand. He had encountered them in hand to hand combat decades ago, as a Security officer on the Gorn border, and he could barely hold his own even them. These weren't even real, they were immune to his weapon and their strength could be multiplied to any degree!

Beside him, Weynik was faring better, using his size and his own particular skills to flip over his Gorn attacker, the hologram tumbling over and knocking down a display of glassware, setting off piercing alarms.

Disruption- Grasping the Gorn by the wrists, he called out, "Phaser- Emitter-"

Despite the noise from the alarms, the Roylan understood, racing to find and retrieve the fallen phaser even as the second Gorn hologram rose and pursued him. Above Hrelle, his own attacker was increasing its mass, crushing him-

And suddenly both holograms flickered and disappeared. Hrelle gasped and helped himself up, ignoring the sprains he felt in his back and tail as he collected his satchel, racing up to where Weynik stood, phaser in hand, and a smoking hologram emitter unit hanging on the wall. "Thanks, Weynik, now let's scram-"

But there was a force field blocking the archway to the stairwell - and sounds of one of the interior lifts rising from the lobby below.

"Any more bright ideas, Jumbo?" Weynik asked.

Hrelle turned, seeing the scenic lift that Elchee had used to bring them up here today and racing towards it. "Maractor wouldn't let the help use his personal transport." His Omnikey gave them access, as Weynik shot out the monitoring equipment they encountered previously. "Now, let's descend just enough to escape the inhibitor fields." He attempted to activate the controls. "Come on... come on..."

Weynik started as he heard pounding on the lift doors. "Captain... we have to do something!"

He found the suspensor field controls, activated his distress beacon. "Okay..."

He disabled the suspensors.

The lift began plummeting.

Weynik cried out, until Hrelle turned to face him, knelt down and lifted him up, as the lift accelerated towards the ground...