Surefoot 76: Under New Management

Sternhagen leaned in, peering over her glasses at the screen. "What about our classified data systems? Have they been compromised?"

"Not that I can yet see, Respected Captain."

The human grunted distractedly. "I'm not in Starfleet anymore, Lieutenant."

"I can change that," Hrelle reminded her, smiling slightly at her reaction, but he remained distracted by the revelation. "Eight months, you said? That would coincide with the incident with the Paserak vessel. Maybe they did somehow beam over to Salem One before their vessel was blown up, and then left when Paserak reinforcements arrived, clearing all traces of their presence as best they could?"

"Whoever attacked the Paserak must have been pretty overwhelming," Sternhagen noted. "To make them desperate enough to come here, even for a short time." She looked to Hrelle. "The Kzinti? The Orions? A new threat?"

He growled; there was little point in speculating who was involved in this mystery, until they determined what the actual mystery was. "Run deeper diagnostics on the command systems. Get me some answers. And let's see what the other teams might discover."

*

Deck 3 -- Hospital:

Counselor Auger leaned against the side of the open doorway, glancing out at the empty corridors leading into the Crew Quarters. Everything was well-lit, the air was fresh, and there was the subtle but omnipresent vibration that told him they were on an artificial structure in space. But it was empty, unoccupied for years.

A shudder ran through him, as he acknowledged the feeling of what some Counselors called Disharmony Dread, or what his first wife used to just call The Creeps: the instinctive revulsion of something being out of place or context, not quite right. A station full of people and activity was acceptable, an empty station wasn't. A dog barking was acceptable, a dog speaking Klingonese wasn't. A clown bouncing around and laughing in a circus was acceptable, a clown standing silently outside your door at midnight wasn't-

He shook his head. No, a clown wasn't acceptable in any circumstance.

"Alex?"

Auger turned, unfolded his arms and approached. "It's Alexander, Cowboy; no one ever calls me Alex, not even any of my wives. What's up?"

Dr Masterson, along with the rest of his staff, was currently transporting their own equipment and inspecting what was left behind by the previous occupants of Salem One in the Ops Theatres, Isochambers, labs and offices for the Chief Medical officer and Chief Counselor. Now, however, he was leaning over one of the many rows of biobeds in the main Treatment Room, a tricorder in hand, frowning, his Old Western drawl garnished with curiosity. "I'm looking for a second opinion on something I found."

"Well, it's been a while since I had to do anything more medical than managing a panic attack, but..." He peered at the little screen on the tricorder. "What am I looking at?"

"The tricorder picked up organic residue on the side of the biobed; blood, probably. There was an attempt to clean it up, but it wasn't entirely successful. It was only detected while we were running standard decontamination processes."

Auger frowned, dredging up his physical medical training from the back corners of his mind. "Yes, that looks right. They probably weren't as thorough as they would normally have been in cleaning up after themselves when they were evacuating Salem One two years ago."

Masterson nodded. "I'd have gone for that explanation, too, except for two things: One, this residue is fresher than two years."

"Fresher?"

As Masterson talked, his new Chief Nurse Eydiir walked up to him, standing on the other side of the biobed and listening silently.

"Maybe eight months ago," he continued. "Not two years. And Two, the DNA patterns don't match any of the individuals or races that had been registered at the station at the time of the evacuation. I haven't a clue what might have left this blood-"

Eydiir reached out and took the tricorder from Masterson, glancing at the readout for only a second before announcing, "A reptoid race, similar to Gorn or Qarari. The ribosomes make it obvious."

"Obvious?" Auger echoed, smirking.

"Yes, at least to me. For some years now I have administered the genetic and hormonal post-operative therapies for my friend Kitirik, a reptoid who underwent transgender surgery-" She handed back the tricorder. "Forgive me, as I am discussing actual work, it's probably going over the heads of doctors."

Then she returned to her previous duties, Masterson looking to his colleague and remarking with a smirk, "She's gonna make a fine Chief Nurse."

*

Deck 16 -- Engineering Deck One:

Chief David Sakai looked up at the Fusion Tower, a crimson-red THX-1138 reactor with Michel Corporation helium-neon laser fusion initiators, carbon reaction chambers and deuterium fuel initiators feeding into the lower two decks... and fell in love again.

In his Squab days, he had served on an identical station near the Sheliak border, and the Station Chief there, a beefy bearded Russian named Sergey Rozhenko, let all the new Engineering recruits practically crawl all over the systems, take them apart, put them back together again, ask anything, suggest anything, treated them like-

Well, basically Fat Sergey let them do all the work. But none of them noticed, or minded if they did notice; they got an education better than the years spent at Starfleet Technical Academy. And though many Gearheads like himself lived to serve on starships sailing into the Great Whatsit or fighting Klingons or something, and Sakai had been honoured to have returned from retirement to serve onboard the Surefoot during the War... he had to admit to feeling invigorated by returning to a duty so linked to his youth.

And he promised himself not to exploit his crew the way Fat Sergey did.

"Chief?"

Sakai turned and grinned mischievously. "Mr Nalack! Have you and the rest of my slaves finished all the tasks assigned to you already?"

The tall, slender Vulcan male drew up to him and stopped, his olive skin darkening as he replied, "Yes, Chief. And No, Chief."

The Chief narrowed his gaze. "Mr Nalack... is your time under me spurring you to finally develop a sense of humour?"

"I fervently hope not. What I mean to say is that we have examined the life support recyclers, the radiometric converters and the transkinetic chambers, prepared to raise their efficiencies to higher levels, only to find them already working at maximum efficiency."

Sakai started to reply, but then stopped and frowned, before asking, "Maximum? I expected the automated systems to do a serviceable job in the absence of actual crew, but... maximum efficiency?"

"Yes, Chief. In fact, there have also been some alterations to the flow regulators on the plasma coolant system which are definitely not as per Starfleet Engineering Regulations. That in itself should have been enough to trigger alarms in any subsequent diagnostic cycle."

Sakai regarded him once more, before moving to the Master Computer, calling up the automated logs, and finding... "Nothing. All standard, normal. Nothing of note."

He stepped back, glancing around, feeling anxious now. "Someone has definitely been interfering with our systems..."

*

Deck 7 -- Security:

The force field lights came to life on the row of cells in the Brig, as Thykrill, standing at the control station, announced, "All systems functioning, Lieutenant Commander."

Nearby, examining a phaser rifle taken from the Armoury, never looked up as he replied, "Very good, Ensign. You've improved since we last worked together."

The Andorian bristled, but kept her reactions in check as best she could, unnoticed by the other Security personnel around her.

Except for C'Rash, standing nearby, surreptitiously watching how Salvo interacted with those around her. Ever since Uncle Esek gave her those secret orders, she had been on edge. Well, she had already been on edge with Salvo since meeting her, having judged her to be a formidable but arrogant and belligerent bitch.

Nothing she had seen since had convinced her to change her assessment. Now there was this obvious tension with Thykrill... and though the Nova Roman outranked them, Thykrill was one of C'Rash's people, the Assistant Chief of Security, a good and loyal officer for some years now.

Enough of this shit... "Ensign Thykrill, will you please assist me at the Security Airlock? I'm getting some odd readings in there."

The Andorian straightened up, appearing grateful to get away from Salvo. "Yes, Lieutenant."

There were airlock corridors in Security that allowed ships to dock and physically transfer dangerous individuals, if transporters weren't available or feasible. C'Rash waited until they entered one of them, and the doors to the rest of the station slid shut, before she asked, "Okay, Atiaro, what's happened between you and Salvo?"

Thykrill stiffened, her antennae dipping and her scent changing slightly. To her credit, she didn't deny anything, but instead tried to evade with, "It's nothing worth discussing, Lieutenant."

"Why not let me be the judge of that?" She sighed and rested a paw on the younger woman's shoulder. "You can talk to me about anything. You were working with her alone on Scesity, trying to access the Marauders' computers. What happened between you two?"

Thykrill breathed in, her turquoise skin darkening as she finally complied. "It wasn't just me, Lt Dassene was involved, too..."

Minutes later, the two of them emerged from the airlock, C'Rash bristling, her black tail snapping behind her, ready to confront the Nova Roman... only to be distracted by the change in mood, as she saw the woman and the rest of the Security personnel checking their phasers. "What's happened?"

Salvo barely spared her a glance. "We have detected activity in the Hangar Bay; someone is prepping the station runabouts for launch."

"What? Contact the Command Centre, get them to lock down the Hangar Bay!"

"They have already tried, Stupid Cat! It has been overridden from Auxiliary Control!"

C'Rash slapped her combadge immediately. "Lt Shall to Surefoot: we've detected intruders preparing to launch with station runabouts, prepare for possible intercept with tractor beams!"

"Acknowledged, Lieutenant," T'Varik replied crisply.

"Tractor beams," Salvo sneered. "A coward's response."

The rest of the Security team stopped their preparations and stared.

C'Rash bared her teeth. "No, a response complying with Commodore Hrelle's orders to take minimal action, regardless of the provocation. You remember the Commodore's orders, don't you?"

Salvo glowered back, tightening her grip on the phaser rifle as she snapped, "Follow my lead, Lieutenant."

*

Deck 4 -- Station Park:

Misha breathed in the thick, rich scents around him, familiar and unfamiliar. It was an interior forest, like the Arboretum on the Surefoot, but much bigger, allowing for huge clumps of trees and bushes dotted with colourful blossoms to flourish under artificial lighting, and added to the circulated air from the hidden vents. He could hear the chitter of insects and maybe even tiny birds or creatures that thrived here, and the gurgle of an unseen fountain or waterfall.

It was great, like being back home on Cait with his Gramma and Grandpas visiting the lush parks and reserves. It was certainly much better than that stinky cold desert colony planet, with those stinky mean cubs that got him into trouble with his Mama.

A salmon-pink drone, a box-shaped robot with stumpy legs and manipulator arms, was hunched over a plant, carefully snipping away dead leaves and adding them to a recycling tray.

"Ooh," Abby cooed, drawing up beside him to watch the robot work. "Let's go help him!"

"Don't wanna," he grumbled. He didn't want to be there. He wanted his uniform back and not wearing these stupid cub's playclothes. He wanted Papa to tell Mama not to be mad with him anymore. He wanted...

He wanted to understand what Papa and Cousin C'Rash told him about not always fighting.

Behind them, Gyver stepped up, a napping Sreen in her hoverchair gliding beside him. "Master Misha, are you not feeling well? Should I call for your mother?"

"NO!" He walked away from them, towards a small section of the Park that was clearer than the rest, with some sort of large plaque mounted onto the wall, and lots of writing he couldn't understand.

"What's that?" Abby asked, as she and the rest of them joined Misha.

"It is a memorial," Gyver explained.

"What's that?"

"Something that is made or built so that others can remember someone or something. In this case, this is to remember a day, fourteen years ago, when a group of criminals attacked this station, and the crew of the starship Furyk. Many tragically died on that day."

"How?"

The equinoid rested a three-fingered hand on her shoulder, responding softly, "It doesn't matter, Miss Abby. What matters is that the men and women who died meant a great deal to the people who lived here, and so they made this memorial to them. So anyone who comes visiting the Park will know about them."

"Papa was Captain of the Furyk," Misha informed them, staring up at the plaque now with greater meaning. "Mama told me he used to live here with Sasha and Sasha's human Mama. Then Sasha's human Mama died. Mama says he's sad to come back here-"

His nose and ears twitched as he picked up... something. He looked back towards a dark clump of overgrown foliage around a large Terran tree, and started towards it in investigation.

"Master Misha, where are you going?" Gyver asked.

He kept his eyes fixed ahead, but replied over his shoulder with, "I have to go wee wee!"

Abby giggled.

Gyver pointed back to the Park entrance. "There are public hygiene chambers out on Broadway!"

"It's wee wee, not poo poo, the plants like it!" He ignored them as he moved around out of their sight, blocking out the distracting sensory input, remembering the training from his Papa and Cousin. There was someone hiding, watching them. He was sure of it.

A part of him wondered if he should say something to Gyver, he was a grown-up, and in charge... and he still felt guilty about getting Gyver in trouble for running off with Abby on the Stinky Planet-

Then he froze as he saw the movement he was seeking, and leapt into the foliage, extending his claws and baring his teeth.

He stopped as he saw and smelled the reptoid, similar to his friend Kit on the Surefoot: about his height, wearing burgundy robes, with mottled green skin and cloudy eyes and a snout drawn back to reveal twin rows of sharp gleaming teeth as it took a defensive posture and hissed.

Immediately, deep terrible memories returned to Misha's brain- The Snakes! The Snakes that hurt him and Mama and Sasha a gazillion years ago! They still came to him, sometimes, in nightmares. He growled, ready to fight-

No! No, he couldn't! He promised he wouldn't! Fighting had to be the last choice, not the first!

He stopped being scared, retracted his claws and straightened up, holding up his paws and smiling, pushing aside his fear. "Hi! I'm Misha! What's your name?"

The reptoid continued to hiss, and for a moment, Misha wondered if he was an animal that lived here- no, that was stupid, he was wearing clothes! But could he understand him?

He reached into his pocket and took out what was left of his bag of Claw Flakes, which he had somehow managed not to finish off before now, opening them. "You want one? They're tasty, even if they are good for you." He drew one out, offering it to the other, before offering, "I won't hurt you. I wanna be friends." He popped the Claw Flake into his mouth and chewed away.

The reptoid's milky eyes seemed to dissipate, leaving bronze bulbs with black vertical slits, as she asked, "Can I have one, please?"

Moments later, Gyver and Abby were startled by the return of Misha... and someone else, Misha smiling and announcing, "Look! I made a friend! Her name is Abracosa! She's living here with her tribe!"

*

Salvo led the way, moving down the corridor, phaser rifle in hand, senses attuned and feeling more alive than she had done in a while, as her mind recalled the layout ahead of her: Deck 12, Station Starboard, the ground level of the Hangar Bay. If there was anyone hiding on the station, then it would be here: access to Launch Control, Decontamination Rooms, Mission Ready Rooms, the Hangar Bay Chief's Office, Auxiliary Control, weapons lockers, tools lockers, and of course the shuttles that had been left behind.

Though she would never admit it to anyone, she was grateful to that fat furry pussycat Hrelle, for appointing her to this prestigious role. He had been right, back on Deep Space Nine: the War had ended, and Starfleet could now afford to descend into weakness and complacency, and leave her to wallow among the peasants and mongrels. This was a lifeline-

"Lieutenant Commander," came the murmur behind her.

Salvo paused, turning in place to glare and mouth, "Quiet, Stupid Cat!"

It was the black-furred Caitian C'Rash Shall from the Surefoot... Hrelle's niece, obviously in such a position of responsibility because of nepotism. She was armed, and had been carrying a Security tricorder as well, but was now holstering the latter. "Tricorder sensors are being blocked by something down here, Lieutenant Commander, but I can smell and hear about twenty bodies, maybe more, ahead of us. Don't know the race."

Salvo grunted -- secretly admiring the acuity of Caitian senses -- before motioning to the others on her team, a mix of ones who would serve under her, and ones who would remain with Shall on the Surefoot. A motley menagerie of aliens, including that moron Thykrill, though some appeared useful -- like the pachydermoid Ensign Kaldron, a huge if insipid-seeming junior officer bringing up the rear. Her voice low, she gestured to the other side of the corridor. "Two flanks, either side, on my signal we go in, taking positions and firing-"

"No warning?" C'Rash questioned. "Standard Security Protocols-"

"We have been invaded!" Salvo snarled through clenched teeth. "What if it was Jem'Hadar? Did you follow Standard Security Protocols in the War, Stupid Cat?"

Shall bristled. "It's not Jem'Hadar; I know what they smell like. And we're not at War anymore. And Commodore Hrelle explicitly ordered you to take minimal action." She paused before adding, shifting slightly to accentuate the phaser in her paw, "And he ordered me specifically to watch you... and to take over if you... if necessary."

Salvo grunted. Of course the fat fool would do something like that. Clearly he still didn't trust her. It was insulting. Finally she nodded. "That will not be necessary, Lieutenant. Of course I had no intention of taking more than minimal action; clearly you misunderstood my instructions. Two flanks, either side, phasers on Stun, do not fire unless fired upon." She offered a challenging glare at Shall. "Will that satisfy you and your uncle, Cat?"

Shall bared her teeth. "That's Lieutenant Cat to you... Ma'am." She nodded behind her to the others, who followed the others and formed two lines on either side of the corridor, Shall joining the other side as they drew closer to the opening.

Closer now, Salvo could feel the stronger circulation of air in what would be the much larger enclosure of the Hangar Bay, smelled lubricants and chemicals and residual embers of metals cut or welded together by industrial phasers. And there was an agitated conversation, echoing.

Salvo tensed. "Get ready-"

"No!" C'Rash interjected, ears twitching. "I can hear them speaking, my Universal Translator understands them! They're not raiders! They're arguing... one of their children is missing, somewhere on the station! They don't want to evacuate without her!"