Surefoot 59: The Burning World

Zir accepted it. "Yes, Lieutenant. Thank you." She departed.

Alone with Eydiir now, Sasha turned to her. "Well? Was that a better example to set for the Next Generation?"

"Marginally."

Sasha threw up her hands, twisted her hips and grasped her left buttock. "You know what? You can just get down there and kiss the fattest part of my ass!"

"Thank you, no, I am not inclined that way. And with the size of your posterior, I would be down there all day." Eydiir offered a slight glimmer of amusement behind the stoicism as she left as well.

When she was alone again, Sasha reached for the whiskey... then put it back again. Sleep was better. Yes, definitely.

*

She got little actual sleep, before an alert came, bringing her forward to the cockpit, finding Astrid alone. "Where's Lt Arrington?"

The other woman never looked away from her controls, as the Tailless continued to surf warp space at insane velocities. "He went for a break, Ma'am."

Sasha checked the readouts. "We're still an hour away from triggering the expected Dominion sensors, why did you call me?"

Astrid pointed to a panel. "We're approaching the Gault system's perimeter network, which will alert them to incoming ships. If the Dominion have seized control of the system-"

"Then they may have also seized control of the network." Sasha took the co-pilot's seat and activated the Prowl. "Good thinking, Ensign."

"Thank you, Ma'am. My fa- the Michel Shipping Company have had incidents with pirates that have raided freighters by co-opting system networks like this."

Sasha nodded, wondering why she hadn't thought of it, as she recalled the details on the pilot beside her. "Your father is Charles Michel, isn't he? The owner of Michel Shipping?"

There was a pause, making Sasha look across to see the emotion on the other woman's face, before responding. "Actually, no, Ma'am. I thought he was, and he thought he was, until I was thirteen, and we both learned then that my mother had altered my genetic signature when I was a baby, to trick him, to get money off him. He disowned me... but at least he let me keep the surname."

Sasha continued to stare, surprised and aghast, that any parent would use their cub like that... or that any other parent would summarily reject the cub they had raised as their own for something the other parent had done. "I'm sorry, Ensign, those details weren't in the records I'd read of you."

Astrid continued not to look back, focused on her tasks at hand. "Mr Michel has kept the details of the deception out of the public record... and I've made sure it wasn't common knowledge onboard the Surefoot. At least, until the Battle of Khavak. Now... my reasons for hiding seem petty." She stopped as additional red lights appeared around them. "Is this what it's like to pilot a cloaked ship?"

Sasha smiled, running long range scans on the planet ahead of them, finding the positions of the Dominion ships. "Cloaked ships are officially banned from use by Starfleet personnel, Ensign. I'm surprised that... that you..."

She stared at the readings, confused.

She focused on Gault: small, Class-M, a ring of several small moons providing acceptable tidal variances-

She rechecked the temperatures and atmospheric readings of the planet, her heart racing. "Get Kit up here. Now."

Seven Hells...

*

Abby Boone wailed in terror and confusion as the people in the commune, the grown-ups and the children, rushed about, shouting over each other, questions and orders and curses and cries.

While on the horizon, an impossibly high wall of orange and red and white flames burned the sky, a storm that had turned night into day and turned her world into a nightmare and left a horrid smell in the cool night air. It was like when lightning struck some of the fields and set them on fire... but a thousand times worse.

She had woken to it, along with the other children in the commune, and waited for the grown-ups to come and make things all better. But they didn't; they were scared too. That made the children's fears all the greater.

Claire, the woman who had birthed her, had come to get her dressed and take her outside into the night, where the rest of the commune had gathered, to see the fire and work out what they were supposed to do. Abby held the woman's hand tightly, tugging at it for attention. "We have to call Daddy!"

Claire ignored her, rushing up to her boyfriend Gregori. "Greg! What's happened? Have the fire suppressor systems failed?"

The large, broad-shouldered young man turned to her, looking as afraid as everyone else. "It's the Dominion! They're attacking us!"

Claire's grip on Abby's hand tightened until the six-year-old squealed. "What? Are you kidding? Why us? We're in the Asshole of Nowhere!"

"Language," Abby scolded, unheard.

"We've lost contact with the stations on the other side of the planet," Gregori continued, looking back at the wall of fire on the eastern horizon... a wall that seemed to be getting closer, like a wave. "All the communes are evacuating west, to the Central Spaceport!"

"The Spaceport? That's over 1,800 kilometres away!"

He waved a beefy arm towards the fire. "That thing's moving in fast! Come on, there's a flyer coming in for the children and their parents!"

"What? What about the rest of you?"

He didn't answer that.

As one they moved to the fields, Abby almost falling before Claire picked her up and carried her along, allowing the child to protest, "No! We can't go! Daddy won't know where we're going!"

Claire ignored her. Abby tried to twist around to tell Gregori or one of the other adults. Her Daddy was in Starfleet, they helped people, so he'd be coming for her, to help them and the rest of them! They just had to call him!

At the edge of the field, everyone looked up to see the box-shaped flyer descend, its landing arc erratic from the chaotic winds being generated by the fire in the distance. The commune leaders were shouting over the other cries and the winds. "CHILDREN AND THEIR PARENTS ONLY! OTHER FLYERS ARE ON THEIR WAY FOR THE REST OF US! JUST STAY BACK UNTIL IT LANDS!"

Abby looked up, watching the vehicle come in for a landing, as a thought entered her mind. "Daddy! He's flying that! He's coming for us!"

Claire's hold on her tightened as she pushed her way through the crowds to ensure a place for herself and the child on the flyer. "No, he's not."

Abby pouted. She knew Claire was her mother, but she also knew that Claire was minding her until Daddy was ready to come collect her and take her into space to have adventures and she would be a Fierce Space Princess!

The side hatch to the flyer opened, and grown-ups with children poured into it, as Abby looked back over Claire's shoulder at their home, and the fire beyond it. "Daddy's coming for me."

"Your Daddy's a thousand light years away," Claire informed her archly, strapping them into adjoining seats. "Having fun with some beefcake."

Abby listened... but still didn't believe.

She knew her Daddy was coming...

*

CPV Tailless:

Everyone not performing vital work in the cockpit was crowded in the aft section, the table folded away to allow the holoprojector plates in the floor and ceiling to present images. But not ones for entertainment purposes: it showed a planet, slowly rotating... and slowly, inescapably being consumed by flame.

Kit stood next to Stalac, the reptoid delineating the images. "Gault's atmosphere is currently undergoing a chemical thermogenesis: hydrogen molecules are combining with an unknown substance to become a new, pyrophoric element, one which ignites at sufficient high ambient temperatures."

Sasha stared at the image: almost half of the planet, the side facing the sun, was coated at the terminator with swirling, red-orange fire, while the centre was swaddled with black smoke and ash. "The day side. The sun is causing it."

"Yes, Lieutenant," Stalac confirmed, his voder unit able to include a sense of horror in his synthesised voice. "As the planet continues to rotate, the sun heats the direct atmosphere, triggering combustion, and the convection of air currents spreads the effect."

Zir, standing near an aghast-looking Peter, divided her attention between him and the hologram. "The Dominion is causing it? It's definitely not a natural phenomenon?"

"It's definitely nothing like it in any scientific database, Zir."

"Of course it's the fricking Dominion," Neraxis muttered. "It's something they would do."

"And the... combustion..." Sasha continued, horrified at seeing such destruction on a global scale. "It's reaching ground level? To the lifeforms?"

"Yes, Respected Lieutenant," Kit confirmed soberly. "Anything flammable is consumed. There may be subterranean and aquatic lifeforms which escape the burn, but they will not be able to breathe the local altered atmosphere."

Peter stepped forward, eyes wide, unblinking, as if he might seize the hologram of his birthworld to save the real thing. Instead, he raised an arm and pointed to the burning sections. "This is the Western Hemisphere! There are a few weather and ecological stations there, but the majority of settlements and automated farming complexes are in the Eastern Hemisphere! Can we see if they're still safe?"

"Mr Stalac, if you would, please?" Kit asked.

The Horta's cilia moved over the universal control interface on the floor at his side, and the image of Gault expanded to show the Eastern Hemisphere, dominated by a large lozenge-shaped continent of immense greens and yellows. "There are a series of weather and communication satellites in orbit around the planet, still functioning, still automatically transmitting data, though the Dominion ship is disrupting any signals from leaving the system. We are detecting approximately 17,220 humanoid lifeforms, most moving in a westerly direction, away from the direction of the Fires-"

"Can we contact them?" Peter demanded. "Let them know we're on our way?"

"Not without alerting the Dominion task force present."

"They must be aware of what's happening," Urad mused. "Have they no defences, no escape vessels?"

"No planetary defences," Kit responded. "And there are several large vessels, cargo containers which could in theory transport many of the inhabitants... but there is also evidence of the recent wreckage of similar vessels, suggesting-"

"Suggesting the Jem'Hadar have been shooting down any who try to leave." Sasha concluded coldly. "They're using this planet as a test bed for this weapon. How much time until..."

The rest of her question went unasked, but Kit understood enough. "The Fires will reach the edges of the main continent in six hours. Consumption of the planet will be complete in another five."

The group went silent, until Peter breathed, almost desperately, "I have to save her."

"We have to save them all," Sasha clarified, drawing in a breath and beginning. "Mr Stalac, bundle this data and send it in a Priority One Message back to the Surefoot, inform them of our location and our intention to take all steps necessary to save what's left of Gault. Then you and Lt Kitirik will continue to examine the data, find out how this weapon works... and how to stop it.

Neraxis, you and Ensign Kaldron will take a station up front and examine the tactical data on that Dominion ship; we've not seen its design before, I want to know its strengths and weaknesses. Jonas, you and Ensign Emoto do the same, from an Engineering standpoint. Also keep an eye on those Scarab ships; they're spread out in wide patrol patterns, but I want to know if they change course as if they've detected us. Ensign Boone?"

Peter started, turning to her, a storm of emotions on his face.

Sasha continued, calmly but firmly. "Accompany Ensign Dassene to one of the auxiliary stations in the Cockpit, provide details of the location of your community, and your local government centres." She looked to Zir. "Make no contact with anyone without my authorisation."

"I have to get my child off that planet!" Peter demanded, his face red, stiffening when Zir put a hand on his arm. "I can track her!"

"Yes," Sasha conceded. "But what about all the other children down there? What about their families? All the thousands of others on Gault? We can't get them all off the planet."

"I don't give a damn about them!" he practically shouted in her face.

Sasha chose not to react, except to reply calmly. "I know, Mr Boone. But you don't have to. I do. And if I can halt what's happening down there and save everyone, I'll do everything I can... including sacrificing my ship and myself, if it comes to that. And if it does come to that, I'll be leaving you and everyone else on Gault until help arrives."

She looked around, almost challenging those surrounding her to say something in contest, before she turned to Stalac. "Has that transmission been sent, Ensign?"

The Horta rumbled. "Yes, Lieutenant. Reinforcements should arrive at a minimum of 10 hours, if they leave immediately."

Sasha nodded. "We'll be in orbit of Gault in just over six hours, once the Firewave begins reaching the eastern end of the continent. Anyone not assigned to a task, get some rest, you'll be needed. Dismissed."

Sasha continued to stare at the hologram in front of her, hearing everyone depart... but still feeling someone behind her, and knowing who it was. "You should be forward, keeping an eye on Peter; he's wound up tighter than an old watch."

No answer.

She turned to face Eydiir. "What?"

The Capellan stared at her, drawing closer. "I told you before you needed to be the commander I know you can be. You have exceeded my expectations." She reached out and clasped Sasha's forearm. "I am proud to know you, Sister, and to stand beside you."

Sasha stared back, at the young woman who had seemed so cold and savage and unapproachable when they first met, but who had softened in Sasha's eyes with time. They shared a stubborn loyalty, a lack of tolerance for dishonesty or cruelty, and a past stained with the loss of loved ones. Together they had shed blood, and spilled blood, and watched each other's backs. Eydiir had called her Sister.

And Sasha found herself comforted, both with that, and with her presence now.

They embraced.

Sasha drew back. "Still... if we do come up with a way of saving everyone on Gault and not get killed, you won't be too pissed off about it?"

Eydiir shrugged. "We'll see."

*

Hrelle had been sitting perusing intelligence data beside T'Varik in his Ready Room. But, as the Vulcan expected, he didn't do it silently. "Marvin was telling me that one time on the Princeton, Chief Sakai had a Petty Officer who made his subordinates' lives Hell on the Graveyard Shift - not that any of them would dare complain about it, of course. But he knew, so he taught him a lesson in humility, by secretly infecting his trousers with Nanites designed to snap strategic threads to make them fall apart, and then had him give a lecture before the entire Engineering crew on decorum-"

"I believe I can follow this anecdote to its conclusion, Sir."

He reached for his tea. "You don't approve of hijinks?"

"I have appreciated the technical sophistication employed in some so-called practical jokes," she confessed, "Having witnessed several elaborate examples in the rivalry between yourself and Captain Weynik, even if I must officially protest the immature example you two were setting for those around you. I hope that Chief Sakai won't trigger a resurgence of such shenanigans from you."

He made a sound. "Of course not. I like being a mature figure of authority."

"And you also fear a reprisal from your wife."

"That, too." The desk intercom chimed, and he responded, "Yes?"

Lt Bellator's voice filled the air. "Captain, there is a Priority One Message from a Caitian vessel, the... Tailless?"

Hrelle set aside his tea and bolted to his feet, T'Varik silently following as they emerged onto the Bridge, the Caitian barking, "Onscreen!"

The main viewscreen's image of the Thirteenth Fleet was replaced by a series of texts, data and images, the three officers reading quickly.

"Seven Hells..." he murmured, having read enough. He looked to T'Varik. "Have we got enough crew onboard to function?"

"We are at 25% capacity, enough to function... under normal circumstances. To handle a potential crisis of this magnitude..." The Vulcan left it at that.

He nodded at that. "Yellow Alert! Helm! Set a course for the Gault system, Warp 9! Bellator, relay the transmission to Admiral Tattok, and open a channel to Captain Weynik on the Ajax!"

T'Varik looked to him, as the Surefoot banked sharply to another direction and jumped to warp. "We are leaving without discussing the matter with the Admiral first?"

He looked ahead, as if mesmerised by the tunnelling effect of warp speed on the starfield beyond. "We're responding to a Priority One message, as per Starfleet Regulations."

She nodded. "And of course, if we wait to speak with Tattok first, he might order us not to respond until the intelligence is examined more thoroughly?"

He shrugged... his tail giving away his true feelings.

Beside them, Bellator reported, "Captain Weynik is on a channel, Sir."

"Onscreen."

The starfield changed, replaced with the aquamarine, ossified features of his Roylan friend, his beady black eyestalks fixed. "Wide Load! What's going on?"

"We've received a Priority One Message from Sasha's ship. She's in the Gault system with the other cubs. The Dominion are testing a planet-killing weapon there." He glanced at Bellator. "Send the Ajax the transmission."

"Bloody Hemra! And my father let you go off alone?"

"I decided not to stick around and wait for confirmation from the Admiral."

Weynik nodded. "Looks like you might need help."

"I'll definitely need help. We're a little short here."

The Roylan grunted. "Nothing wrong with being short. We'll catch up with you, before my father tells me not to. Ajax out."

The starfield returned. Hrelle looked to Bellator. "Lieutenant, make an assessment of the crew we have onboard, work out a new schedule based on their numbers and ensure we have maximum redundancies on support systems in case we have to go into battle."

Bellator blanched, but finally nodded and replied, focusing on their station. "Aye, Sir."

Hrelle forced down the sickening feeling in his gut at the thought of his daughter racing into danger, and turned back to T'Varik. "I want us to look at that data again... and wait for the inevitable call from Tattok."

*

Tori couldn't untense herself. Even beyond the current crisis, and the need to find answers to help save an entire fricking planet of people - and who the frick does that to a bunch of fricking farmers anyway? - and the tension that's been building up onboard the ship between her Squad and the Old Farts. Now she had to deal with Ostrow, sitting beside her, trying not to set her off again. Which, ironically, was the very thing that would set her off again.

Ever since... ever since Ostrow appeared and took over from poor Chief Grev, she had hated him. Hated the fact that the Chief had sung his praises long almost since Tori had been onboard the Surefoot. Hated the way he acted like he knew what was going on in her head. Hated his confidence and condescension and stupid silver hair and how he just walked around and never had any problems except how to be brilliant and-

He was pointing to a section of the display before them, of the main Dominion starship in orbit around Gault. "These extensions... I would have identified them as radiator fins, or even atmospheric stabilisers."