Surefoot 55: Ex Mortis

Kami scented his change in mood, and drew up, resting a furred hand on his shoulder. "You're feeling sad..."

He nodded, his throat wattles darkening into a deep violet. "The Battle of Khavak... we collected only a fraction of the Iberia crew... I know that other ships might have also collected other of my friends and colleagues and taken them to safety... but still, I worry for them, and mourn for them... forgive me, Respected Counselor, this is selfish and unprofessional of me at this time-"

The Caitian drew him into an embrace. "Hush. There's nothing to apologise for." She drew back to look at him. "We'll talk when we get back, okay?"

The young Qarari nodded, breathed in deeply, his round bronze-black eyes looking around again, to a pair of curtains, stepping over to them and parting them to reveal an old-fashioned door, trying the handle and succeeding in opening it.

Kami rushed up to him. "Wait, Kit-" But he was already stepping inside, and she followed, senses alert for hostile opposition.

But the room they had discovered was unoccupied. It looked like some sort of office, filled with old-fashioned photographs on the walls, dead flowers in vases on pedestals, an ancient-looking music disc player Kami had seen once in a historical video, and an elaborately-carved, high-backed chair festooned in sangria-red velvet. The walls were a black that seemed to extend into itself.

"What do you suppose is the function of this place?" Kit asked, as he walked around, examining the photographs.

Kami's hackles were raised, without knowing why. "It... It feels like a... study. A place of contemplation, perhaps. Reflection, for the commander of this ship. Which might give us some clues as to the nature and psychology of-"

"This is... incongruous. Respected Counselor..."

She approached him, following his finger as he pointed to the rows of photographs, in monochrome and colour. "These images represent a range of different time periods in Terran history, most of which I recognise from my Academy classes, from the 19th to the late 21st Century.

Specifically, they depict instances of death and the disposition of the dead, often in great numbers: horse-driven hearses in tiny wooden towns; soldiers in Earth's First and Second World Wars; aircraft and terrorist disasters; the large-scale disposal of victims of pandemics such as Spanish Influenza, Andromeda and TS-19; the casualties of the Khanate Purges during the Eugenics Wars; the radioactive victims of the Post-Atomic Horrors-"

Kami leaned in, studying the common figure in each of them: a tall, elderly, stern-looking man with receding grey-white hair. "This looks like the same human in each of them, the same clothes..."

"There are many recorded accounts of long-lived or immortal beings who have secretly dwelled among humans in the past," Kit noted. "For numerous reasons. But to spend such an extended period of time serving humans in disposing of their dead escapes me..."

"Or of bringing us here and tormenting us with visions of loved ones dying." Then her attention turned to a simple wooden table at the far end, facing the chair. The table held a large, intricately-carved box of cherry-red wood. She moved to it. "There has to be answers somewhere here."

Kit looked to her. "Respected Counselor, perhaps we should leave and-"

As she was reaching out for the box, it opened itself, the top, sides and front dropping away to reveal a set of three shiny metallic spheres, two silver, one gold.

She stepped back, her hackles rising as she felt a vibration in the air, a vibration coming from the Spheres.

Then the Spheres levitated up from the box...

*

Hrelle dodged as the Sphere flew past him, millimetres away, brushing against the padded shoulder of his jacket. He caught a glimpse of it, his eyes confirming what his ears told him: that it was slowing down, and beginning to bank around to return.

He turned and raced down where the False Misha had stood, now gone, and he turned right, reaching out and grabbing a pawful of hanging curtain, ripping it from the rails and taking it with him, as he heard the Sphere rapidly catching up with him. He worked the curtain in his paws, hoping luck and timing were on his side as he-

Spun around, holding up a clump of curtain, letting the Sphere race into it. A flash of memory returned to him from half a century ago, of a flitterbird that had gotten into his family cottage on Cait, and he had tried to capture it safely in order to safely release it outside.

He was less careful now, wrapping the Sphere up tightly in the curtain, feeling the considerable power that drove the object as it fought to be free, while he responded by slamming the Sphere against the nearest wall, again and again, hearing it whine in protest.

More sounds from behind him- footfalls, heavy, fast, the distinct rustle of heavy, shuffling figures.

He spun in place and kicked out, sending a short, cloaked figure backwards. Another avoided getting knocking back too and leapt towards Hrelle, snarling as it slammed into the Caitian.

The wind was almost knocked out of him -- the creatures were small, but heavy, like Ferengi -- but he recovered, drawing back the hood on his attacker to claw at the eyes-

Mother's Cubs, the cranial ridges, the bone structure- it was like a Klingon, but compressed- some genetic aberration, like the ones from two centuries ago-

The other one joined the first, pounding stubby fists against Hrelle's muzzle. Hrelle dug his thumb into one of the eye sockets of the first attacker, making it screech like a pig and fall to one side. He pressed his attack on the other- and knocked off its cowl to see it resembled, not a Klingon, but a Jem'Hadar, again, somehow compressed, compacted- why would anyone do this?

The Creature struck him, bringing him back to the fight. With a roar he flung the Creature from him and rolled back to his feet-

"Enough..."

He spun in place, seeing the tall human in the dark suit, standing there so intimidatingly as he announced, "You play a good game, Caitian. But the game is over."

Aware of the Creatures rising on either side of him, ready to attack once more, but holding back, at some obvious unspoken command of the new arrival. Hrelle remained in a defensive stance, claws still bared. "Who are you? Why have you brought me here?" When there was no response, he steeled himself and continued. "I'm Captain Esek Hrelle, of the-"

The Tall Man raised an eyebrow, in a manner reminiscent of Hrelle's First Officer. "I know who you are, Captain. I am beholden to you."

Hrelle felt his hackles rise. "'Beholden'? What are you talking about?"

The Tall Man extended his long arms, indicating the rows of tomb markers surrounding them. "I am in the business of collecting the dead. You have sent many to me over the years, Captain. I have a... pressing need of them."

Hrelle grunted, striding forward. "I asked you why you brought me here."

"The Service is about to start, Captain."

"Service? What Service?" He drew up to the Tall Man. "You'd better start answering me, Bubulah-"

An invisible force gripped Hrelle by the throat, lifting him up from the floor, squeezing tightly. He reached up to his throat, struggling to free himself from whatever was choking him. But there was nothing. The blood flow to his head was constricting, more and more. His vision was tunnelling.

The Tall Man drew up to him, just out of reach of Hrelle's hands and feet, regarding him coolly. "Of course, Captain. Ignorance is Bliss, after all... and I have no desire to leave you Blissful. But all in good time. Too much truth, swallowed at once... can choke."

The hold on Hrelle's throat ended abruptly, and he fell to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath, the pain of the impact shooting through him. He felt himself surrounded by the Creatures, grabbing him, dragging him along...

*

The music stopped. C'Rash and T'Varik did the same, the Caitian's ears twitching. "There's something else. A vibration. Something like what I feel near the Surefoot's impulse engines."

"Track it."

"Shouldn't we be looking for the others?"

"Can you pick up their scents?"

C'Rash's muzzle creased. "They're around, but I can't pinpoint them."

"Then follow what you can pinpoint, damn it!"

She turned to T'Varik, drawing up to the Vulcan, reaching out to touch her face. T'Varik pulled back, trembling. "Don't- we have to find the others-"

"You have to find your balance, your control. We haven't been linked since I died. Come on, just for a moment."

T'Varik swallowed. "I- I cannot. The breaking of our link caused some... minor damage to the areas of my brain that govern emotional control in Vulcans."

C'Rash bristled. "Damage? You have brain damage? And you haven't bothered to get yourself treated? What the Seven Hells are you thinking, you stupid tail chaser?"

Her partner breathed in, focused herself. "I was thinking that we are in the midst of a crisis, and that I cannot afford to take time out for a condition that is manageable for now."

The Caitian grunted. "Yeah, it seems real manageable! I swear in Mother's Name, when this is over, I'm smacking your pert little ass, and then dragging it into Sickbay to get fixed! Is that clear?"

T'Varik glared back. "Perfectly." She breathed hard.

C'Rash twitched, sniffing, reacting with amusement despite the situation. "Are you getting horny over my threatening to spank you?"

The Vulcan turned away, pointing in the opposite direction. "The vibrations you detected are in this direction. Come."

C'Rash bit back the obvious retort, and complied. Along the new direction they took, the corridors grew darker, but the vibrations grew stronger.

"Wait," C'Rash murmured, pulling T'Varik into the shadows, just as a procession of small, cloaked humanoids carrying black barrels appeared from the opposite direction, stopping and turning into a set of doors that slid open, revealing white light and hot dry air. She and C'Rash watched as the cloaked figures formed a double line that silently and methodically passed the barrels into the White Room, out of view.

Then the barrels were all transferred inside.

The figures now stopped... turned and faced T'Varik and C'Rash. Growling,

"Shit!" C'Rash raised her phaser and began firing, the whine of the beam filling the air as the cloaked figures surged forward, stubby hands raised. They began falling, though not quickly enough to stop all of them; those not stunned swept over the two females, who fought back. T'Varik remarked to herself on the weight, and the resemblance to humanoid races that were typically much larger in size, and her logical side attempted to calculate the odds and best strategy of physically disabling the still-active attackers.

A second after one of them bit her arm, sending pain shooting through her, her logic was eclipsed by her rage and her panic, and she let loose, screaming and striking out at everything around her, a nova-hot explosion of emotion galvanising her limbs and making her punch and kick her attackers.

Other, more familiar figures, appeared from around the corner, grabbing at the remaining figures; distantly, T'Varik recognised Lieutenants Hrelle and Arrington. Their appearance seemed to snap the Vulcan from her rage, as she disabled her final attacker and helped C'Rash rise as well. The Caitian was catching her breath, and licking blood from her paw, before spitting it out in disgust. "What the Seven Hells are these things? They smell like shit!"

Sasha kept glancing around at the twitching, grunting insensate creatures around them. "They're- They're dead Klingons, Jem'Hadar, Cardassians, many races..."

"What?" She crouched beside one of them, withdrew its cowl, and saw the body Cardassian ridges around the creature's head. "Mother's Cubs..."

T'Varik straightened up, gathered her decorum. "Report, Lieutenant Hrelle."

Sasha responded. "Commander, Lt Arrington and I found ourselves in another part of this ship, in a room full of bodies in bags. They've been gathering the dead from the Battle of Perigord, and injecting them with chemicals to reanimate and shrink them down in size." She indicated the despatched Creatures around them. "Turning them into these freaks."

"They were getting put into barrels," Giles added. "The same ones we saw being carried into that White Room. But why?"

Some of the Creatures at their feet were twitching. "We will investigate... after Lt Shall stuns them again."

*

The three Spheres rose from the box and circled Kami and Kit, the air buzzing around them.

"Respected Coun-" Kit started.

"Sshh," she cut in, her eyes staying on the levitating objects; they felt more alive than mechanical, the way they reacted to the slightest movement on her part. "Don't move."

They floated up and down around the Starfleet officers. Red scanning beams emerged, swept over Kami and Kit. More and more she was reminded of predatory animals, examining a potential prey.

The Golden Sphere moved in front of Kami. She saw her own reflection in the gleaming surface of it.

A set of three circular saw blades popped out of the front of it. They began whirring.

Kami tensed, ready to take action-

Then the Sphere turned and moved to the door, striking the surface, the blades on it cutting madly, furiously into the wooden frame, rotating and spitting sawdust out around it, until a round hole was made, and the Golden Sphere forced its way outside, followed by the two Silver Spheres.

Kami relaxed, looking to Kit. "Are you okay?"

The reptoid nodded, breathing out heavily. "Y-Yes, Respected Counselor. Those- Those objects-"

"They fled, fled because of some alert," she guessed. "Possibly because of our people. We have to go warn them, help them!"

*

Hrelle fought to free himself, but the Creatures held tightly onto him, still dragging him along a carpeted surface of a church-like room, where an organ with tall brass pipes played itself, near a raised dais with a tabernacle. Hrelle looked up at the Tall Man, shouting over the music. "What the Seven Hells is going on here? Who are you? Release me!"

The music stopped. The Tall Man moved up to behind the tabernacle, looking out at the assembled as if they were his congregation. "We are here today to pay tribute to Captain Esek Hrelle of the planet Cait, for his invaluable service to our cause."

"Cause? What are you talking about? I serve Starfleet!"

The Tall Man leaned forward, gripping the edge of the tabernacle as he peered down at him. "I was mortal once, Captain, human, centuries ago. I have seen many uniforms since then, many races, as I followed mankind out into the Void. But ultimately, all serve us: Death.

And you have been very serviceable over the years, Captain. Many have died at your hands. Orions, Nausicaans, Klingons, Jem'Hadar, Cardassians, Tholins, Breen... Humans. Even your own crew."

Hrelle bared his teeth. "My own crew? I've never harmed any of my crew!"

"Oh? Have you forgotten the crew of the Furyk? Have you forgotten those who died more recently on the Surefoot?"

The mention of his current and former commands made him start. "They- I wasn't responsible for their deaths-"

"And yet, they died. You have helped fill our ranks substantially."

Hrelle swallowed, feeling the guilt rise like bile within him. "I kill only when there's no other choice-"

The Tall Man smiled humourlessly. "Those merry old refrains: 'Only when there's no other choice', 'Only in self-defence', 'Only following orders '. Platitudes with paper-thin endurance. Hide behind them if you wish. It matters not. Those whom you and your ilk rob of life, are taken by us, and... amended... to fill our needs."

"What? You... You steal the bodies of our dead?" Disgust swept through him. "How dare you? Do you understand what they mean to so many of us?"

The Tall Man smiled again, and again without mirth. "I have seen many ceremonies, many means of disposing of your dead... but none of it is for the benefit of the dead. The dead have no need of your words, your hymns, your tombs.

But then, you recognise that already, Captain. Only yesterday, as you note time, you took your dead to use in a deception to save those still alive on your starship." He held out his arms. "Like us, you put them to far better use than just leaving them in the dirt to decay, or burning them like garbage."

Hrelle was ready to argue the point... but he had nowhere to hide from the accusation. It was true; he had taken the casualties on the Surefoot, even people he'd know for years, and used them, as part of the deception to fake their own self-destruction and escape the enemy's detection. He didn't regret it, he would do it again in an instant... but that didn't mean the decision didn't leave him twisted up in knots, even with the understanding of most of the others.

Finally he responded, "You're right. But I used those bodies to save innocent lives. What do you use the bodies you scavenge for?"

The Tall Man raised an eyebrow.

And three Spheres entered the Cathedral.

*

The White Room was spotless to the point of sterility, and absolutely empty except for two metre-high silver columns, a metre high and a metre apart, standing near the far end of the room. The air vibrated, more in here than outside.

C'Rash approached cautiously, phaser raised. "The Creatures brought in a dozen of those barrels. Where did they go?"

Sasha drew up as well, shivering. "Perhaps this is some sort of transporter room? Sending the newly-prepared somewhere else?"

T'Varik studied the walls, where light seemed to seep through without a discernible source... and the vibrations travelled into her bones, sending the hairs on the back of her neck rising. "As the only present objects are those columns, one must expect they act as a... portal."

Giles moved more confidently towards them. "One way to find out."

Sasha reached for him. "Giles, no, wait!"

T'Varik froze. "Lieutenant Arrington, do not approach-"

Giles wanted to stop... but his body refused, drawing, dragging him as if caught in a gravity well, pulling him to the space between the columns with a frightening rapidity. He twisted, fell to the floor, but still continued to be pulled. Terror paled him, and he called out, reaching out to stop himself, but there was nothing to grab onto.

Sasha went after him- but C'Rash grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back, restraining her cousin. "No, Sash!"

Sasha fought C'Rash, still reaching in vain towards Giles.

Giles was dragged by unseen forces between the columns.

And vanished.

"GILES!" Sasha screamed.

T'Varik joined them, helping to keep back Sasha. "Lieutenant! Get a hold of yourself!"

"We've got to help him! WE'VE GOT TO!"

The Vulcan grabbed hold of the young human's face. "We will! But by working together, not just leaping into the unknown! Is that understood?"

The panic that had overtaken Sasha as seeing Giles disappear was quickly eclipsed, as she regained control of herself, nodding and swallowing. "Y-Yes, Commander."

T'Varik nodded back, indicating the columns. "It is indeed some form of portal, a spatial doorway, this half of an interdimensional corridor. Now, get on the floor, you will be crawling towards the space between the columns; the gravimetric forces should not be as strong at that level. I will be down there as well, holding onto your legs, and Lt Shall will do the same for mine."

"Hey, I'll go in," C'Rash volunteered. "I'm stronger than my cousin."

"We both are," T'Varik pointed out. "And will logically be more efficacious on this side, providing an anchor. We should hurry."

The three females dropped to the floor and formed a chain, Sasha feeling the pull almost immediately from where Giles had been standing moments before, dragging her in the direction, and it became as much an effort to control her approach. The vibrations in the air this close to the columns made her teeth itch.