Surefoot 78: Bleeding Edge

She focused her attention on him. "Mr Paul Reiser, I presume?"

He beamed at her. "Got it in one."

"It is good you managed to return so quickly from Erenhow... or were you in fact Nowhere?"

Reiser chuckled, as if not having been caught in a blatant deception. "You'd have to excuse that little mix-up, Captain, I can assure you it wasn't intended. Now, you're worried about Genesis technology being used here? Well, let me promise you, that's not the case. Genesis is almost a hundred years old! Zorin Interstellar is in the business of looking ahead, not backward, working with leading edge technology! Max Zorin intends to bring the Federation into the Twenty-Fifth Century!"

T'Varik raised an eyebrow. "I am certain the Federation can find its own way there without his assistance. But to return to the matter at hand, we will still need to inspect your operations; the evidence we have found to date still strongly suggests Genesis, despite your assurances to the contrary."

Reiser pursed his lips. "Well, Captain T'Varik, of course we'll fully cooperate... but I can't tell you how much your suspicions hurt me."

Her brow furrowed. "Well, Mr Reiser, I can't tell you how little your reaction matters to me. Teams are preparing to beam into your main facility, to examine your records and inventory, and to question your personnel. You will drop your shields and unlock your computers with immediate effect. I will not ask again."

"Allow me to clarify the arrangement for the record before we comply, Captain," Vada interrupted. "Zorin Interstellar denies the utilisation of any Genesis-related materials and technology, and in substantiation of that, will fully cooperate in allowing your people to inspect our facilities here for Genesis... and nothing more.

And in return, you will all sign Non-Disclosure Security Agreements regarding what you might observe here, and agree to take no punitive action towards any extraneous or ancillary infringements you might witness."

She nodded. "That sounds like a straightforward arrangement. We will beam down our inspection teams in two minutes. Surefoot out."

"Pack of lying kussiks," she heard C'Rash mutter under her breath as the viewscreen image returned to that of the planet.

T'Varik chose not to censure her.

*

Seconds after the transmission ended, another transmission was secretly sent from the planet, piggybacked along status updates to the perimeter satellites. The satellites began drawing together and reconfiguring their arrays, while also redirecting the transmission towards the neighbouring Ucarro Minor system.

More specifically, to an Orion vessel, where in the Shipmaster's luxuriant cabin, the ship's owner was busy with a hired woman from the Free Port on the planet, before being interrupted by a buzz from his intercom.

Nesrac Sur cursed, pausing to reach out a thick olive hand to touch the intercom at his bedside, growling, "This had better be worth interrupting my fun, Mollar!"

"Apologies, Shipmaster, but we've received an urgent signal from those Zorin people! There is a Federation starship in orbit they want destroying, now! They offer us a hundred bars of gold-pressed latinum to get it done!"

"Another one? Can't they clean up their own messes?" Nesrac Sur grunted, looking up at the woman straddling him, a fleshy red-haired human woman. "I didn't tell you to stop!" He glanced back at the intercom. "A mere hundred bars? That's insulting! What ship are they looking to have blown to shit this time? Another transport? Some garbage scow?"

"They said it is the USS Surefoot -"

The Orion grabbed the woman by the waist and practically threw her off him in his haste to swing out his legs and sit up, his heart racing. "THE CAITIAN'S SHIP? Signal our acceptance of the contract, and summon all crew! Shore leave is cancelled! We leave within an hour's cleft, or I'll skin our Steersman alive!" He cut off the intercom and rose to his feet, barely looking behind him. "Get back to your owners planetside, or you'll spend your time here servicing my crew for free."

He barely heard her dress and depart, too busy was he dressing himself... aware of how aroused he remained. Not because of the listless human sow the agency sent him - he may as well have saved himself the slips of latinum and settled down for the evening with his right hand again - but of the prospect of facing Captain Esek Hrelle, the former Lion of Salem Sector... the Caitian scum who had driven his father, to humiliation, time and again, before breaking his spirit and taking his own life, to save him some shard of dignity.

Nesrac Sur had kept track of Hrelle as best he could over the last few years, hearing of the scum's exploits in the Surefoot. He had also heard rumours that Hrelle was returning to Salem Sector.... Rumours that were obviously true.

The prospect of exacting sweet revenge on Hrelle was overwhelming. And to do it in Daalan Sur's old ship, too...

Yes, that would be most enjoyable.

*

Kit breathed in the hot, dry, sandy air of Ucarro Major II, coughing a little as he adjusted to the lighter gravity. The general climate of his homeworld of Qarar was similar to this, and he had half-hoped to feel like he had come home... a situation he was unlikely to ever actually experience for real, given the current political climate there towards minorities like himself.

But this world was different. There was a sickly taste to the air, driven by a rising ochre-orange sandstorm that diffused the line between the dead land and the dead sky. The skeletons of trees and shrubbery wavered, more malleable than the actual skeletons of animals that stuck up here and there.

"Ssstrewth," hissed Crewman Kevin O'Reilly, a Gorn male abandoned by his people as a hatchling and raised by a human couple in Australia, before joining the Starfleet Enlisted Services. He looked around, his pebbled reptoid skin seemingly oblivious to the dust-laced wind. "Thiss iss worse than Sssummer Bay in Augusst."

Beside him, the Andorian Assistant Security Chief Atario Thykrill had her phaser drawn, her free arm raised to shield her azure face, her antennae dipping in protection. "Lieutenant Kitirik, are you looking for anything in particular, or are you just here for a new exfoliating routine?"

Kit examined his tricorder, glancing around. This section appeared featureless, and growing more obfuscating by the moment as the storm picked up. He pointed in one direction. "I am detecting anomalies ten metres away. Please, Respected Colleagues, follow-"

He stopped as he detected the whine overhead, and he glanced up to see several flying objects approach from different directions. Before he could comment on it, energy beams shot from them to the Away Team. "DROP!"

He followed his own orders, hitting the sand belly first, kicking up more sand as he reached for his phaser, even as he heard Thykrill and Kevin already firing from behind. Kit raised his arm up, his marksmanship training returning to him as he aimed at a four-winged drone with sensor and weapons pods. The wind was making its flight path erratic, but Kit treated it like a mental fractal exercise, compensating and striking.

It sparked and smouldered and dropped to join the others.

"Lieutenant!" Thykrill called to him, before he heard her add, "Thykrill to Surefoot: we've been attacked, prepare to beam-"

"Belay that, please!" Kit countermanded, rising again and holstering his phaser as he looked around once more. "The drones have been neutralised, and I have detected no more in the immediate area."

Over his combadge, C'Rash's voice carried. "Kit, are you sure you're safe?"

He began moving towards the rest of the Away Team. "Yes, Respected Colleague: the drones did not deliberately attack us, but rather have been seeking someone or something else here."

Kevin looked around again. "What the bloody hell iss out here to find? I sssee nothing."

"It is hidden, Respected Colleague." Kit strode past them, dropping and kneeling beside a flattened slope of sand, webbed fingers digging in... and lifting up a metal plate, revealing a darkened interior. "And, hopefully, still alive."

Thykrill and Kevin drew up, phasers pointed down at the figure of an unconscious human, and a small furred creature with tiny antlers looking up at them and hissing in protest.

*

Salem One, Deck R2 - Commodore's Office:

Hrelle leaned back at his desk and studied the recording of the human on the screen: an older, pale-skinned male with slicked-back blonde hair, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses as he schmoozed at some fancy function with a paltry buffet table. "That's Maximillian Zorin?"

Sitting on the other side of his desk, Nam-Seon nodded. "Swiss-born, his family line can be traced back eight centuries with some renown, apart from some rumoured collaboration with the Nazis during the Second World War, and later with the Augments during the Eugenics Wars.

Thirty-three years ago, he had taken his family fortune and purchased numerous small shipping, mining, colonising, security and construction companies, incorporating them under one banner: Zorin Interstellar. And, by financial measures, he's done very well for himself. I met him once, at a charity event on Luna: he comes across as charming, confident, very assured."

Hrelle glanced at his wife Kami, who sat beside him, staring intently at the events on the screen, making an almost subliminal sound in response to the Commissioner's assessment. He knew that look, and decided not to interrupt her scrutiny. "When did he move into terraforming?"

"Two years ago," Nam-Seon replied. "Zorin Interstellar branched out into terraforming. They haven't headed any projects of their own, but rather have contracted their staff and personnel out to others, scouted planets with the potential for terraforming, that sort of activity." She looked up at the screen. "It's..."

Her words trailed away, prompting Hrelle to prompt, "Go on, Commissioner, please."

She looked back at him. "As part of my duties, I've studied business and finance, to better understand the needs and motivations of private entrepreneurs. Their strategies tend to lean either towards investments that take longer to reap dividends but are more secure, or towards riskier but quicker profits. Vulcans, Betazoids and Rigelians lean towards the former; Ferengi, Klingons and Andorians lean towards the latter. Humans are usually a mix of both.

Mr Zorin's history, and the times however, suggests someone who prefers short term ventures. Quick acquisitions, profits. Terraforming seems too long-range an investment."

"He has no children, does he?" Kami asked suddenly, still staring upwards.

Nam-Seon looked at her. "No, Counselor. Why?"

"When you reach a certain age," Hrelle suggested, when his wife didn't respond directly. "You begin to think about the legacy you want to leave for your descendants. What can you tell me about Zorin Interstellar's work on Ucarro Major II?"

"Not much more than what you'll already know: based on the paperwork filed, they're employing the planet as a testbed for experimental atmospheric processors and cultivation and dissemination arrays, to grow and spread oxygen- and water-producing bacteria.

The Project Manager on Ucarro Major II is Paul Reiser, been with the company for fifteen years... albeit most of that in their Exploration Division, managing private planetary surveys on behalf of colonisers. Of course, exploration was downgraded all around, while the War commenced."

Hrelle nodded, finally looking at Kami again. "Anything to add?"

She nodded, still staring at Zorin's image... and barely suppressing a shiver. "He's a psychopath."

Nam-Seon looked at her. "What?"

Kami nodded absently... and from his vantage point, Hrelle could see her claws extending and retracting anxiously as she elaborated. "He displays all the classic signs of psychopathy, at least in humanoid terms: a lack of emotional development or empathy, ruthlessness, insincerity, deceit, self-aggrandisement."

"Are you sure?" Hrelle asked, looking up at Zorin again.

Her tail was twitching through the hole in the back of her seat. "Of course, I can't be 100% certain without a formal assessment... something I doubt Zorin, with his money and influence, has ever had, or would ever consent to. The disorder typically appears in less than one percent of any given population, but modern medical protocols can almost always detect and correct those who exhibit the disorder from a very early age."

"But how can he function in society with a mental illness like that?" Nam-Seon asked.

Kami leaned forward, visibly calming herself. "It's not a mental illness, Commissioner, it's a personality disorder, and would not be flagged for a legal response unless it was demonstrated that it proved dangerous to himself or others. And in Zorin's case, those traits have also allowed him to succeed in business, by also exuding ambition, fearlessness and confidence. You said it yourself that he came across as charming, confident, assured. Personally, I wouldn't want to be someone who got in his way. Actually, I wouldn't want to be anywhere near him, ever."

Just then, Hrelle's intercom chimed, as Zir's voice broke the tension. "Commodore, sorry to bother, but there's an incoming transmission from Captain Arrington at Ucarro Minor."

"Thank you, Lieutenant, one moment, please." He looked to the women in his office. "Thank you both, if there's anything further you want to add, let me know." As Nam-Seon rose, he added, "Oh, and Commissioner? That's very good insight about the nature of Zorin's choice of investments; I think you're going to do well in this role, just have confidence in your strengths."

She flushed a little, smiling, "Thank you, Commodore."

She departed, Kami shooting him a quick wink and a purr as she followed. As they left, Hrelle glanced up at the wallscreen once more, seeing Max Zorin smiling for the media. He thought he could now see how false the man was being, how piecrust thin the charm was... but he assumed that was just bias on his part, following his wife's assessment. "Put Captain Arrington through, Zir."

Zorin disappeared, replaced by the Bridge of the Al-Razi, and Lucille in her chair, facing him. "Commodore, sorry to bother you-"

"No apologies necessary, Captain, but I wasn't expecting a report so soon from you. Anything new about the Paserak?"

The blonde-haired woman leaned back in her chair. "There's quite a few of their tribe ships gathered at the edge, not trading at the Free Port or interacting with other ships, but more like they're amassing for a large-scale operation. We're still working on decrypting their communications... but I didn't call you about them."

"What, then?"

"There was an Orion vessel here, that almost without warning fled the area. At first I thought it was because of our arrival, but we monitored its flight trajectory, and we believe it's heading towards Ucarro Major. We've attempted to alert the Surefoot , but we're getting subspace interference from the system, probably the system's black star."

Hrelle sat up further, opening another channel. "Operations: can you raise the Surefoot?"

Seconds later, his Station Chief, Captain Sternhagen, reported, "We're trying, Commodore, but there's subspace interference."

"Keep trying." He looked back at Arrington, his pulse quickening and his tail twitching through the hole in the back of his chair. "Any ID on the Orion vessel?"

"A Natahv-class blockade runner, called the Green Death -"

The name summoned with it too many memories, and made him rise from his seat, pressing his fists onto the surface of his desk. "Forget your current mission, Captain! Pursue the Orions!"

"Are you sure, Sir?"

"That ship is captained by an old enemy of mine, he must have heard I was back in the area, maybe still commanding the Surefoot, and he's gunning for revenge! It can't be a coincidence, especially as we can't reach T'Varik and the Surefoot now! You have my full authorisation to take any steps necessary to protect your sister ship and yourselves! Get moving!"

Arrington didn't even stop to acknowledge before cutting the transmission.

Hrelle took a moment to remember, remember his past encounters with the Green Death, and its Shipmaster, Daalan Sur. He had humiliated the Orion on more than one occasion, when Hrelle was the Lion of Salem Sector. He had lost track of him, forgotten about him. Obviously, Daalan hadn't forgotten about Hrelle.

And if the Surefoot, if T'Varik or any of the crew, were hurt, or worse, today because of the actions of the past...

*

C'Rash tensed as the Zakdorn lawyer approached her again, repeating himself. "Lt Shall, I believe you've been here long enough to be satisfied that we are not employing Genesis technology. You may leave now."

The Caitian made a sound and turned away, staying focused on her Away Team, sitting at various stations in the Zorin facility's control room... and on the scents of fear of the Zorin personnel since Starfleet arrived, when Vada had practically thrust a legal PADD in her face, demanding that C'Rash and the others sign the Security Agreements before moving anywhere.

C'Rash complied, and ensured the others did, but since then, Vada had been like a burr in her tail since then, constantly trying to hurry them up, deflect or distract them. And that other prick Reiser had made himself scarce before Starfleet had even beamed down... though there was a camera mounted in the upper corner of the room, watching everything, and she'd bet her sweet little tail that he was on the other end somewhere right now, watching and listening. This was turning out to be one lousy afternoon-

Vada stepped back into her eyeline. "Lieutenant, we are extremely busy-"

She faced him fully. "Tell me what happened to that refinery at the polar cap. Tell me about the life that suddenly appeared out there. What's that all about? Where'd they come from?"

The lawyer grimaced. "There was an accident two weeks ago, a fusion battery overloaded. Thankfully, no one was injured or killed, but it released corporate by-products into the planet's atmosphere. We are still trying to recover what we can!"

"'By-products'? Those are fully-formed plants and animals out there, dead or dying! We're not talking about genetically-engineered oxygen-creating bacteria and algae, and a careful build-up of a planetary ecosphere over the course of years! No one's seen such a rapid change of environment since Genesis! So, how'd you do it without forbidden technology?"

The Zakdorn blanched. "I can't possibly answer that, Lieutenant. I'm not the expert here-"

"No, you're not." She turned and strode down to the other end of the control room, where the Project Officer Dr Rexxil stood with his associates. "Doctor: in twenty words or less, tell me what you're working on."

The Bolian stepped back, his azure skin darkening and the sharp tang of fear thickening with each passing second of scrutiny on him. "M-Me? It- It's not that simple, Lieutenant-"

C'Rash crossed her arms and bared her teeth. "Consider it a challenge."

Rexxil glanced at either side of him, as if seeking support, or an escape, before facing her again, swallowing and finally calming himself. "It's called Project Alkemy. It's a form of liquid we discovered that has incredible properties to transmute matter into organic and inorganic material, even fully grown life-"

"I believe you've more than fulfilled the Lieutenant's request for a brief description of our work here," Vada declared, approaching-