Surefoot 52: ...This Means War Pt. 03

Hrelle glanced over at Emoto, who looked sullen, shaken, and standing close to Urad, obviously hating everyone looking in her direction. I'm sorry, Cadet. I am so sorry I let that happen to you... Then he looked back at Zir, his voice gentle. "You're not at fault. You not only did what was expected of you, you exceeded it. I'm proud of you." He turned to the others. "All of you. More than I can say.

For now, though, we have an emergency: a growing number of systems failures, leaving us blind to how many other enemy soldiers are onboard, as well as other problems." He looked to Arad. "At the moment, you're the next in seniority, Crewman Arad."

The Bajoran nodded, but admitted, "Sir, you- you'll need to release the Chief's command codes. I don't have that authority-"

Hrelle nodded back, moving to an appropriate station -- sparing a glance at Grev and Nancy, lying nearby. I'm sorry for you two as well, but your move to a more appropriate location will have to wait. "There, Mr Arad, and I've granted you the Chief's authorisation. Now, we've had malfunctions in internal sensors, communications, transporters, damage control systems-" He frowned at the readings which now came up. "And we've dropped warp now! What in Seven Hells is going on?"

As the Engineering crew resumed their stations, Arad reported, "A failure in the Structural Integrity and Inertia Dampening systems now, Captain! We can't manage more than Warp Three!"

Alarm rose in Hrelle; at that speed, they'd never make it out of the battlezone alive! "What's happening? Is it Dominion sabotage or-"

"Gel packs," he heard Tori mutter.

Hrelle turned to her, striding forward, not wanting to upset the young woman, but knowing the urgency of the situation. "What was that, Cadet?"

She was still holding onto Urad as Hrelle approached, but now let go, visibly composing herself, fighting the shock that was swaddling her as she swallowed and continued. "The bioneural gel packs, Sir. All those systems you mentioned are tied into the gel packs for faster processing."

His heart raced with the concept. He remembered their installation, the briefings about how the packs processed data and commands more quickly and efficiently, by mimicking organic neural synaptic patterns. They were the latest development, installed on the Intrepids and Sovereigns, but Hrelle didn't like the concept of them, finding them just a step closer to slaving living beings. But he was assured that they would see immense improvements in the most vital support systems, over the running from the Optical Data Network. And the initial trials seemed to support this. "So it could be it's not all those systems that are having problems, but the one system governing them?"

The young woman nodded. "Yes, Sir. The Chief's gonna have me run tests on- I mean, he was going to have me run tests-" She swallowed and added. "Sir, the ODN network is still intact, we just have to go down to Auxiliary Control and manually switch off the gel pack control systems! I'll go-"

He shook his head. "No, Tori, you've been through enough. Help here, I know what has to be done down there." He nodded back to the wounded Cardassians. "Someone bring them a medikit, but keep an eye on them as they're using it; if they make any suspicious moves, anything at all... kill them." At the expressions of some of them, he elaborated, "Enough of our people have died. Believe me. Ensign Dassene?"

Zir was speaking with Urad and Tori, but now drew closer to him. "'Ensign', Sir? Don't you mean 'Cadet'?"

"No." Loudly enough for others to hear, he explained, "On my personal authority as Captain of the USS Surefoot, I'm evoking the powers of the Starfleet Emergency Charters, and declaring you -- all cadets onboard my ship -- graduates from Starfleet Academy, holding the rank of Ensign, effective immediately."

He glanced at the startled reactions from those affected. "As far as I'm concerned, you've earned it. I may catch the Seven Hells from T'Varik and the Academy Superintendent for this, and you may still have to complete some essential exams, but I intend to make this stand."

Zir looked stunned by the news, but straightened up. "Thank you, Sir. I won't let you down again."

He regarded her, her and the three other cadets who stepped up and took on a greater number of experienced hostiles...and triumphed. Not to mention the cadets who were held hostage, who were threatened with rape, with death, and still kept their cool, were still doing their jobs. Mother's Cubs, they humbled him... "You haven't let me down the first time, Ensign. You should know that Peter Boone and Stalac were wounded, along with many others, in an attack on the Shuttlebay. At the last report I received before the communications went down, they were alive and being tended to, but that was a while ago. I thought you needed to know."

She had reacted, visibly shaken and obviously wanting more answers than he could give her, but quickly recovered, nodding. "Thank you for that, Sir."

He patted her on the shoulder. "You'll have to stay in command here for the time being. Can you manage?"

"Yes, Sir."

He smiled and departed for the Jefferies Tube Hatch outside, leading to Deck 5 and Auxiliary Control. This madness had to end. Now.

*

Deck 4 Fore -- Starboard Main Corridor:

Sasha led the way out of the Shuttlebay, phaser covering the path ahead to Sickbay 2, as Thykrill and Kit covered the other path to Sickbay 3, and Eydiir remained at her side, also armed with a Jem'Hadar pistol, but with one hand near her bandoleer of kleegat blades. Sasha almost smirked with amusement at her instinctive reliance on primitive weapons... until she reminded herself of the Kaetini sword strapped to her back.

She stopped in her tracks, ten metres from their destination. The area in front of the blast doors of Sickbay 2 appeared clear, empty. Safe.

She adjusted the setting on her phaser, murmuring, "Stand ready, Sister." Louder now, she declared loudly, "SWEEP PATTERN!" Then she fired, a wide blue pattern of low-level energy reflecting off the walls, the blast doors-

And two camouflaged figures.

The Jem'Hadar decloaked and began firing, but Eydiir and Sasha were faster, each one bringing a target down. Behind them, the sounds of similar firing carried to them, before there was silence again, prompting Sasha to call out, "REPORT!"

Kit replied. "All is well with us, Respected Lieutenant! The Jem'Hadar we have dispatched cannot claim the same, however!"

"Good! Let's get cracking!" She nodded at the Jem'Hadar she had shot. "Mine hit the ground first."

Eydiir holstered her phaser. "Mine was taller."

They stepped over the bodies, kicking them to one side, as Sasha activated the wall intercom beside the blast door. "Sickbay Two, this is Lt Hrelle! Open up!"

After a moment, a voice she recognised as the Klingon doctor Kline replied, "How do we know it's really you, 'Lieutenant', and not some dishonourable Jem'Hadar trick?"

She sighed. "The real Lt Hrelle promised not to tell her father about when you got staggeringly drunk at the wedding party for Jonas and Neraxis Ostrow, and you cornered her and tried to convince her about the apparent health benefits of sex with Klingons-"

The door slid open, and a tall Klingon male with a face swarthier than usual from chagrin, glared at her. "I thought we agreed that you had merely misinterpreted that offer, Lieutenant-"

"Save it, Doc. We have numerous wounded in Shuttlebay, from Jem'Hadar weapons, decompression, space exposure and various other traumas-"

"Of course!" He turned to his team, as if grateful for the distraction of a medical emergency. "We race into battle with Death, my Targs!"

Sasha stepped back with Eydiir and let Kline and his people hurry out, as she considered her next tasks: ensuring Thykrill and Kit get Sickbay 3 to work, checking the rest of the accessways on Deck 4, including the Survivor Stations locked up here, and then somehow getting to her Dad on the Bridge and finding out what was going on...

*

Deck 3 Outer Starboard Maintenance Corridor:

C'Rash could hear the Jem'Hadar burning their way through the inner door, and quickened her work.

Behind her, Jhess was on one knee, plasma rifle raised in the direction of the outer door. "Lieutenant-"

"I know, Spots. I know." She had managed to open the airlock door and keep it open, and now she was rigging the safety override on the outer airlock door into space. "Almost ready."

"Care to finally tell me what you're ready with, my ebon-furred beauty?"

She smirked; that sounded more like the annoying nanny Jhess she knew, rather than the intense Sabrecat... though she had been grateful for appearing and saving her life. "When they get in and get close enough, the outer airlock will open, and they'll get blown out into space."

"And us with them?"

"Hopefully not, if we're secured properly in here, pretending to be dead."

"And once all the air rushes out, we won't be pretending."

"True," she admitted gravely, finishing her work and returning to him. "But we stand a better chance of revival if the crew finds us in here, than if we're tumbling out in the void."

"But what about the rest of the ship?"

"There are shields in the inner corridors that will activate, and once they get the subsystems back online, they'll detect and repair the damage... and find us. Give me your rifle strap."

He left his guard pose and complied, as she unhooked it from his rifle and extended it. "You really should have stayed with Aunt Kami and the Cubs, Spots. They're your job."

He assisted her, while still keeping an eye on the inner door. "I am Llalare. It is not just a job, it's a calling. I'd hoped to lead the enemy away from them... and to save a member of their family."

She sat down on the floor, prompting him to follow, as they wrapped the extended rifle strap around their waists and a conduit pole; it was a snug fit, but that would benefit them in the long run. "Thanks again, Jhess. I hope we both survive for me to make it up to you-"

Then the inner door slid open, and they closed their eyes and lay stock still.

C'Rash held her breath, kept even her ears and tail from twitching, as she listened to the soft, cautious footfalls approach, hoping that Jhess' Militia instincts didn't take over, and he began firing... or that they fired upon their apparent corpses just to be certain. That's what she would do.

Seven Hells, she didn't want to die.

She had so much to live for, with T'Varik, with Aunt Kami and Uncle Esek and their family. And as much as this was her duty, her role to play in life, one she would never trade for all the latinum in the Quadrant... still...

She wouldn't mind continuing to play a part in this story.

Suddenly a sharp concussion to her right made her start, but before she or anyone else could react further, she heard the outer airlock door slide open, and a huge rush of air battered her senses. She opened her eyes to see a half-dozen Jem'Hadar tumble over each other, futilely trying to find handholds, grips, anything to prevent them from being blown out into space.

One of them managed to grab her by her right ankle -- until she kicked him repeatedly in the face with her left boot, and he tumbled out to join his friends. Bye, bye, Assholes; it's been nice knowing you...

Her abdomen ached from the strap cutting into her, as the air around them continued to try and entice her out into space, before there was only vacuum. She began releasing the air in her lungs, as per her decompression training, feeling the spotted male beside her doing the same. They would quickly pass out, and then... then...

Jhess gripped her hand, squeezing. She squeezed back, selfishly grateful that he was there with her when blackness claimed them.

Uncle Esek had done this before, more than once, and survived. And if that lovable fat bastard could... could do it...

so...

could...

this...

sexy...

little...

bitch...

*

Bridge:

"Helm, Full Stop," T'Varik ordered. "Enter Grey Mode, no exterior energy signatures or transmissions. Passive sensors only."

The crew around her complied, as she felt something at the back of her mind. It made her rise to her feet, staring at the viewscreen as a part of her listened to the updates around her. But her main focus was on- on-

She felt the air leave her lungs, and she collapsed to her knees, unconsciousness threatening to claim her. There was something- something wrong with the environmental systems- but no one else around was reacting in the same way-

Cadet Astrid Michel was now at her side. "Commander? What's wrong?"

She couldn't speak, couldn't react. T'Varik could only know.

Know that C'Rash was dead. Her Beloved was dead. Because of the Jem'Hadar.

A rapidly retreating part of her was suddenly aware of an explosion behind her, and smoke, and cries of alarm, and the whine of energy weapons, and heavy footfalls on the outer ring-

It was someone else leaping to her feet and hopping over the rail.

It was someone else roaring as she struck out at the large murderous figure with the mottled-green reptilian faces, knocking aside his weapon arm even as she assessed his strength, his musculature and physiognomy, the appropriate nerve clusters on his neck. It was someone else reaching out-

-And snapping the neck quickly and cleanly.

It was someone else shoving the dead invader forward to his comrades, diverting their firing until she could reach them. It was someone else still roaring as she launched herself at the rest of her prey, twisting arms, matching strength for strength, and using the same lethal neck pinch on them as she had the first. It was someone else's blood boiling as she was suffused with fury. Even as the last of the three invaders fell, she clung to the last one, roaring into his dead face-

"COMMANDER T'VARIK!"

Someone else retreated, as T'Varik crouched over a Jem'Hadar body, quickly trying to compose herself and assess the situation. She rose, swaying but recovering, as she found everyone's attention on the sight of Neheru on the bulkhead near Helm, the tall, gangly Kelpien now looking a horrible pale pink as he clutched his abdomen, trying in vain to stem the heavy flow of cerise blood pumping out of him.

"Medikit!" T'Varik ordered, her voice hoarse for some reason as she rushed down, kneeling beside the wounded officer. Velkovsky knelt behind him, ashen with shock, holding onto him, gasping rapidly as if she'd been wounded, too.

Astrid drew up with the medikit, opening it, as T'Varik searched for the appropriate tools, and gave further orders. "Ms Naku, take over at Tactical, monitor the passing of the enemy vessels! Mr Gentry, check the corridor for more of the enemy, but be careful! Ms Michel, take over at Helm, be ready to take evasive measures if we're detected!" She removed the cauteriser; it wasn't meant for wounds this massive, but it would have to suffice. "Stay with us, Mr Neheru. Consider that an order."

The Kelpien was gasping shallowly, but seemed to respond to her.

T'Varik glanced up at Velkovsky, aware that the intimate nature of the relationship between the two Lieutenants will have left the human in a state of shock following this, but needing her assistance. "Irina... prepare 50ccs Anerazine; it will have to suffice until we can get him to Sickbay. Ms Naku, report!"

The Grazerite female Jexa-Naku responded, her curved ram-like horns reflecting the light from the ceiling. "The Ajax appears to have lured the Jem'Hadar away, Commander! No sign of them!"

The Vulcan nodded to herself, watching as Velkovsky finished preparing a hypospray, and pressing it against Neheru's neck. She glanced away, noting the bodies of the Jem'Hadar on the upper ring of the Bridge before focusing on the young human standing guard at the damaged doorway. "Report, Mr Gentry!"

"No sign of more Jem'Hadar, Ma'am! Should I check further down the corridor?"

"Remain where you are." She reassessed the situation: it was logical that the Jem'Hadar still onboard would suspect that reinforcements would not be arriving to reinforce or retrieve them, and that they would most likely try to take the ship by force and return to their comrades. "Helm, proceed once more to the rendezvous site, Warp Three. Lt Velkovsky... you need to make your way to Sickbay 1 on Deck 3 and bring back assistance."

The human looked up at her. "W-What?"

"This medikit is as limited as my expertise; Lt Neheru will not survive. You will proceed using the same route through the Jefferies Tube hatch as Captain Hrelle used, but stopping on Deck 3 instead of 4. Naturally, if you encounter the enemy, you will protect yourself and avoid confrontation." T'Varik looked up at her. "Irina?"

Velkovsky was almost ashen, but she nodded and rose, checking her phaser. "Do what you can for him, Commander."

T'Varik forwent the instinctive response about her not logically doing anything different, and focused on her work. C'Rash was dead, and T'Varik would mourn, mourn and grieve and rage for a long, long time to come... but now was not the time to start.

*

Deck 5, Auxiliary Control:

Hrelle smelled the blood, the lifeless human flesh, as soon as he entered.

The room was dark and cool, and seemingly unoccupied, and like many areas of the ship served more than its nominal function, including acting as a storage facility for the spare quantum torpedo racks. There was also a soft electric blue glow from the line of bioneural gel pack units installed last month to control the support systems.

Auxiliary Control normally went unmanned, but during Alert Conditions of level Four or higher, regulations insisted on at least one armed guard present. Today, Ensign Glenqom Orogg had been assigned.

Hrelle had known him from when he was a cadet, from the same class as Sasha. He was Saurian, a good, studious young male with a dry sense of humour and a love of spicy soups. Hrelle remembered when the lad's hatch mother had been called in for an emergency operation on her subaltern heart, and Hrelle had stayed up all night with him, keeping him distracted, teaching him unarmed combat moves one didn't learn at the Academy, until the good news came through the next morning that she was okay. Orogg felt lucky to have been assigned back to the Surefoot after graduation.

That luck ended today.

His body lay sprawled, spreadeagled across the Auxiliary Control station, a cleaver-like alien blade embedded in his chest, his round bronze eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling, and his salmon-pink skin a sickening-looking pale. Hrelle's senses confirmed the young male had been dead for less than half an hour.

But... there were far too many wounds on him, as if he had been struck by a dozen blades or more, and the dried blood spatter patterns on his uniform and the surrounding surfaces confused the Caitian. How much of a fight had Orogg put up-

Then Hrelle understood.

His bootsteps echoed as he approached the body, seemingly focused on it, though his other senses were studying the room around him, as he accused aloud, "You used him for target practice. You held him down, and took turns with him. You killed him slowly."

He reached up and gently closed the Saurian's eyes, as he continued to speak to the shadows. "That's why you boarded us, instead of just blowing us out of space. You came to learn: our different races, our strengths and weaknesses, our tactics and technology. You came to learn, and to take back what you learn to share with others."

Hrelle felt his hackles rise and his blood boil, as he thought of Glenqom Orogg, and all the others who died today: Chief Grev, Nancy Yeager, Dr Belaxi, Meow Rrori. He thought of those seriously wounded, and may not recover, like Stalac and Peter Boone. He thought of the looks in the eyes of cadets like Tori Emoto, who suffered so egregiously at the hands of the enemy, and in the eyes of Zir Dassene and Urad Kaldron, who had been forced to kill, to cast aside their decency and unleash dark parts of themselves. Living, wounded or dead, none of them would never be the same again.