Surefoot 82: Persona Non Grata

The voice of his Station Master, Captain Sternhagen, remained typically unapologetic. "What the Hell's ever good at 0500 Hours, Esek? The Minotaur will be arriving in four hours."

He rubbed his eyes, feeling a sense of déjà vu. "The Minotaur? What's it coming here for? Was there trouble?"

"No trouble, as far as I know. Might have something to do with the Priority Message we received at the same time from Starfleet Command, Commodore's Eyes Only."

He grunted; he could have it relayed here, but sensed he wouldn't just be able to climb back into bed afterwards. "I'm coming up there right now."

"You're going to be dressed, right? Have those Low Hangers of yours tucked away?"

"Just have a pot of coffee ready, Smartass."

*

In another set of quarters on the same deck, an alert and a flashing light broke the darkness and the silence. Seconds later, a female voice announced, "Computer: Lights."

Sudden illumination triggered curses, as Lt Zir Dassene struggled to extricate herself from the tangle of bedsheets - and the Bajoran male sharing her bed. Finally she rolled herself over him, apologising as her knee accidentally pressed down in places it should never normally go, before scrambling naked to her nearby desk, the ruby-haired, olive-skinned Orion forcing herself to focus on accessing the source of the alert.

Lt Arik Rhov sat up, rubbing his eyes and the bridge of his ribbed nose. "What's wrong?"

She made a noise, before reaching for her clothes. "The Commodore's received a Priority Alert."

Arik watched her. "And he called for you?"

"No, but he'll read the Alert in Ops rather than disturb his family, so he'll need me there." She slipped into her bra and ponytailed her hair before slipping her red turtleneck shirt over her head. "Computer: Hrelle Special Number 5."

Nearby, her private replicator conjured up a plate of hot, fat butter-glazed croissants.

"Number 5?" Arik echoed, smiling. "How many Specials did he make up for himself?"

Zir reached for her socks and boots, breathing in deeply. "Ten- no, twelve. And he didn't make them up, I did, depending on the time and potential situation."

"Right." He yawned, and then kicked off the sheets and sat up, reaching for his own clothes. "Such dedication to your work."

She glanced up at him, smiling. "You're not jealous, are you? You don't have to go. I might be right back... and maybe looking for some more of one of your Specials."

He smiled back. "I'm not jealous, but I think I'll be better off heading back to my place for actual sleep before I start my own shift. Go on, run off to see the Other Boyfriend."

Zir stopped and stared, for a moment wondering if he was making fun of her, knowing how ridiculous her devotion to Commodore Hrelle, who had done so much to support and protect her, might seem to others.

But no, Rhov wasn't really mocking her. For which she was eternally grateful, because he had turned out to be the next best thing to have happened to her since the Commodore - even if she had decided that they had to keep their relationship a secret, to prevent gossip and accusations of undue influence.

When Zir finished dressing, she drew in, bent down and kissed him hard, before pulling back, her head spinning as she recalled their night before. "Yes, get back to your own bed; you'll definitely need to recharge your batteries for when we're off duty again."

*

Five minutes later, she entered Operations, carrying the croissants and moving straight to Hrelle's office - until Sternhagen intercepted her, staring at the food. "Mmm, I'd better test these for poison or something."

Zir resisted the urge to slap the Terran's hand away and stop messing up the arrangement she had made; Sternhagen was a superior officer, after all. "Is he here?"

From his adjacent office, a roar came through the door.

The older Terran woman made a sound as she bit into the croissant she had pilfered, and swallowed. "Come on, let's go find out what's rubbed the Cat's fur the wrong way." She started, before moving to one side. "Best if you lead with the snacks."

They found Hrelle behind his desk, coffee mug in paw, glowering at the now-black viewscreen before him. "Get that plate over here and stand back."

Zir rushed up and set it down, stepping away quickly despite his obviously facetious warning. He reached out and tore into one of the croissants, speaking between bites and chews. "We have new permanent staff coming, who'll need appropriate quarters, and office space on Deck 7."

"Deck 7? The Security Level?" Sternhagen asked. "Who would want offices down there-" She frowned. "Are we finally getting the JAG staff we've been asking for all these weeks?"

"Yes. And speaking of Security, alert them to prepare to accept a prisoner into custody."

"Prisoner, Commodore?" Zir echoed.

"Ensign Beaudine, maybe?" Sternhagen opined. When Hrelle nodded, she added, "I thought he was being taken to Deep Space Twelve for his court martial."

"That was the plan... but given the notoriety behind his case, and the fact that he was arrested in our sector, it was decided it would be more appropriate to bring him here for his trial. And as the Minotaur was delivering replacement JAG staff to DS12 anyway, they decided to kill two birds with one stone and assign them to us instead." He washed down his croissant with the remains of his coffee, slamming the mug down on the desktop and making Zir jump. "Sorry."

"There's more to this mood than the ungodly hour," Sternhagen noted now.

He nodded. "Our new Senior JAG officer is Captain Phillipa Louvois."

She whistled in response. "Louvois? Really? That can't be a coincidence. I thought the Universe had been done stabbing you in the back, Esek."

Zir looked back and forth between the other two officers, obviously sensing the significance behind that name. "Who's Captain Louvois?"

Hrelle was growling and reaching for another croissant, leaving Sternhagen to explain. "A famous JAG officer... well, notorious. Nicknamed the Mugato, for those people who don't prefer her four-letter nicknames. Censured as much as commended, she's even resigned in protest more than once before returning to duty. She likes to stir up trouble just to see what happens, or to make a name for herself, and she definitely likes to win, no matter the consequences."

She reached out for another croissant from the plate, until Hrelle growled at her. She took it anyway, adding, "Years ago, she tried to prosecute a certain furry Starfleet Captain who had returned from years of slavery within the Orion Empire."

Zir felt her skin turn a darker shade of green, as she turned back to Hrelle. "You, Sir?"

He grumbled, not looking at her. "It was technically for the loss of the crew of the Furyk. Standard procedure."

"Bullshit," Sternhagen countered. "Everyone knew it wasn't your fault, but all she cared about was winning her case. She took it way too far, even tried broadcasting those damned Orion Deathmatch videos they made you participate in, in order to win her argument. But then that's the Mugato's style: No Holds Barred." She glanced at Zir. "Move the bitch into a utility closet. Or an airlock."

Hrelle set down the rest of his next croissant. "Enough; no matter my past with her, she's here now, and part of our crew, and I expect everyone here to behave in a professional manner. Myself included."

Sternhagen crossed her arms. "Of course." Then she frowned. "Is Louvois going to prosecute Beaudine in the court martial?"

Now he looked up at her, eyes wide with the possibility. "The orders assigned her here as Chief JAG Officer; I know they're always allowed a great deal of flexibility, but more likely she'll lead the panel as Chief Judge, and have a couple of her JAGoffs do the prosecution and defence. Lieutenant, I put the list of new arrivals in our shared drive; I want those personnel quarters ready and the JAG Annex on 7 up and running before they get here."

He turned back to the viewscreen. "I'll review the orders received." Blindly he reached out and retrieved the remains of his latest croissant. And then another. "Get those things away, Lieutenant, they're bad for me."

*

Broadway, Deck 4:

Sasha looked around the cluttered Emporium, examining the eclectic range of goods on the many shelves and racks around her, hanging on Mori's arm, walking off the big breakfast she had treated herself to in the Commissary. "I remember when I was Misha's age, living on the station, and this was a repair shop. You could bring in any device from any planet, and they could get it up and running in no time... or so it seemed..."

Nearby, a pudgy, lime-green reptoid with stubby red ridges running over the eye sockets and up along the skull in tight rows stood near the counter, his hands tucked into the billowy sleeves of his golden robes. "Would that Sirizo possessed such laudable skills. Alas, he must be content with what humble talents his parents gave him."

Standing beside the couple, the station's Chief Nurse Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas raised her chin. "Go on, Paserak. Demonstrate."

Mori looked at her now. "Demonstrate what?"

The dark-skinned Capellan woman sneered at Sirizo, though it was more challenging than derisive. "His 'talent'. He claims he can look at anyone who walks into his Emporium and determine the perfect object for them to purchase."

Sirizo hissed, unfurled his arms and held out his open clawed hands. "Sirizo was successful with you, was he not?"

Eydiir grunted in reply, prompting Sasha to smirk and regard her friend now. "What did he 'determine' for you?"

The Chief Nurse scowled now, reluctantly replying, "A... A leather bandolier with adjustable hooks for my Capellan throwing blades." As Sirizo hissed again in amusement, she added peevishly "A lucky guess! One cannot be consistently perspicacious!" She pointed at Sasha. "Go on! And if you are successful, I will purchase the item for her!"

Mori leaned into his lover, mock whispering, "Before or after she pummels him?"

Sirizo drew up to Sasha, tucking his hands back into his sleeves, his throat colours shifting, in a manner that reminded Sasha of her other friend and colleague, Kit, still serving on the Surefoot. The Paserak merchant, however, was older, stockier, clearly an expert at sales and public relations, as he made a show of sizing her up. "You are a Warrior- no, a Paladin, a Champion. You know combat... but are not enamoured of it. Many owe you their lives."

She felt herself flush, even as she acknowledged that it was an old trick; her reputation was public knowledge, inside and outside of Starfleet. Maybe she should have just stuck to her original intention on entering here to find a present for her little brother's imminent birthday?

"You fight daily," he added, "If only against your own demons. But you do not live for death. You believe in Life.

"Uh, yeah, look-"

"And you are from an ancient Terran tribe," he noted, moving to a nearby shelf, and an ornate jewellery box on a higher shelf, taking it down and opening it, his claws sifting aside the cluttered nest of gold and silver chains. "With a rich history- ah yes, here we go."

He curled one thin gold chain up from the rest around the claw on his forefinger, lifting it up from the rest to dangle it before Sasha - revealing a pendant hanging from the chain: a gold symbol resembling Pi, or the profile of a four-legged animal.

Sasha felt her pulse quicken with recognition as she stared at it. "Son of a..."

"What is it?" Mori asked.

"It's- It's a Chai Pendant. The symbol represents 'Chai' - 'Life' - and it symbolises the value of life." She reached out, almost touching it, but still holding back. "It also represents the will to live, and serves as a reminder to live and protect life."

Eydiir frowned. "I have seen you wear one like this when we were cadets."

"Yes, but I gave mine to a Caitian cub on the Motherworld, after the Occupation." She looked past it to Sirizo. "Where did you get this one?"

"It was part of a salvage lot from the wreckage of some early Starfleet vessel recently discovered: the USS Horizon. I am told that the pendant was fashioned many centuries ago." He extended it closer to her. "Would you be interested-"

In response, she accepted it from him, slipping it over her neck and underneath her uniform.

Sirizo closed the jewellery box, turning to Eydiir with a broad, triumphant smile. "And now, shall we haggle?"

Minutes later, the three young Starfleet officers emerged back onto Broadway, Eydiir grousing. "You could have replicated one of those talismans easily enough if you wanted a replacement."

"When your Capellan short swords were damaged fighting the Vlathi, why did you repair them, when you could have replicated replacements easily enough?" Sasha patted her breastbone, where she could feel her new pendant. "This has history. I can feel it, even if the story about it coming from the Horizon was bullshit; there've been almost as many stories about that ship as Kirk's Enterprise. This needed rescuing from being stuck and forgotten in the bottom of a box." She smiled at her friend. "Thank you for buying it for me. I'll pay you back."

"Try it and I'll disembowel you with my swords. And then heal you. And then maybe disembowel you again."

Sasha smiled and leaned in against Mori. "She needs to get laid."

The Caitian grunted. "You want to have a threesome with her?"

The two women snorted simultaneously at the notion, before Eydiir asked, "How long will the Katana be at the station?"

"Another three days, while they clean the Shiprot we picked up. I wanted to supervise it, but Weynik ordered me to stop working and have fun."

"We could still have that threesome," Mori suggested.

Sasha was about to smack him, when her attention was drawn to Broadway's Concourse, where the rest of Salem One's businesses met the central turbolifts in the core, while the outer perimeter walls were taken up with observation windows and airlock extensions for larger vessels that might dock at the station. She took note of the sight of a Centaur-class starship parked at Docking Arm One - with scores of cadets, Starfleet personnel and civilians surrounding the station side of the airlock. The atmosphere was electric, as if a celebrity was disembarking from the starship outside- except that the electricity was laced with indignation.

Then they saw the airlock open, albeit only the top of it was visible, and then the ugly chant began: "Flinch... Flinch... Flinch..."

"What in the Seven Hells..." Mori muttered.

Sasha glanced out again at the starship, saw the designation, recognising it, her heart pounding now. Oh shit, no... She raced forward, sensing Mori and Eydiir following directly behind unquestioningly.

She forced her way through the crowd, emerging in front of the personnel emerging from the airlock: several Starfleet security guards, surrounding- "Bill?"

She was right, it was him, looking gaunt, haunted, like he was being marched to the gallows, clad in restraint manacles one would expect on an unruly Nausicaan or Gorn. One of the Security guards, a tall, beefy Suliban with mottled yellow-brown skin and Lieutenant's pips, suddenly stepped in between them, sneering at her. "Move aside, Lieutenant Commander."

She stood her ground, feeling her face burn with outrage. "What the Hell do you think you're doing?"

"Our job," he rumbled. "Taking this prisoner to the Station Brig."

"What? Through a public place? Are you crazy? You could have beamed him directly there!"

Now something like a smile lifted one side of his lipless mouth. "The public has a right to see what a coward, a murderer and a traitor to the uniform looks like." He reached up to take her by the arm. "Now move aside-"

She reached up as well, twisting his own arm by the wrist to make him release her and force him down.

The other guards stepped forward now to restrain her- until Mori and Eydiir joined the fray. The escalation triggered shouts of encouragement and excitement among the surrounding crowd-

A sharp, unignorable clap seemed to crack the very air itself.

Sasha's ears rang as she released her hold on the guard and rejoined her friends, jumping as the air cracked again, like a thunderbolt.

She and everyone else turned to the source of the sounds: a knee-high wall surrounding a tri-sided map of the station, and a massive grey-hided pachydermoid in a modified Starfleet uniform that stood on the wall, bringing hands bigger than Sasha's head together to clap once more, in case the first two sonic claps he generated didn't get everyone's attention already, as he raised his broad muzzle and flared his open round nostrils, bellowing, "THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH, COMRADES!"

Beside him, a tall, sturdy, spade-jawed, dark-skinned human stepped forward, seemingly resistant to the handclaps, glaring at the party. "Lt Arcanis Salvo, Station Security Chief." She half-glanced over her shoulder at her gargantuan colleague, loudly ordering, "Ensign Kaldron, arrest anyone still on Broadway in sixty seconds' time!"

The crowd evacuated like air through a hull breach.

Then Salvo turned to the Suliban officer. "Identify yourself."

He drew up to her, looking more enthusiastic at meeting a fellow Security officer. "Lt Nizig, on Captain Louvois' staff. We are delivering-"

"It is obvious who you are delivering," the Nova Roman sneered, not even looking in Beaudine's direction. "Less obvious is why you should neglect Starfleet Security protocols and cause a disturbance on my station. Return to the airlock."

"Excuse me?"

She pointed in the direction they had come, speaking more slowly, as if to Pakleds. "You and your minions will leave the prisoner, return to the airlock and await permission to board."

Nizig blanched. "We- We-"

"If you need a weewee, do it on your side. Now go, before I have Ensign Kaldron crush you beneath his feet."

He stiffened, before offering Sasha a dirty look and departing, making deliberately wide orbits around Beaudine as they did so.

Sasha ignored them, looking at Salvo. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'm-"

"I recognise you, Lieutenant Commander, from the many garish images your father indulgently displays in his office. And I don't give a damn about your relation or your rank, there will be no fighting on my station."

"Your station, huh?" Sasha turned back to Beaudine along with Eydiir and Mori, trying to control her own reaction to how much he had changed, from the vivacious, romantic soul she remembered. "Are you okay, Bill?"

He could barely look at her or the others, shaking, but nodding blankly in reply.

Eydiir faced Salvo. "He needs medical attention. I'll take him to the Infirmary."

Salvo crossed her arms. "No, I'll take him to the Brig. If you wish to have him examined, it will be done there... when I say it will be done. I've had enough of you presumptuous plebeians interfering! Now, begone!"

Sasha remained defiant, pointing at Salvo. "You treat him properly, Lieutenant, or I'll send you to your people's Underworld!"

Salvo bared her pearly teeth. "I do not accept orders from the Commodore's Brat - or threats. If you wish to make good on the latter, however, and meet me in the Gym's Combat Ring-"

"-You'll lose," Eydiir and Mori answered simultaneously.

Salvo grunted at that, signalling to Kaldron. "Ensign! Deal with the prisoner!"

Kaldron hopped off the wall and approached Beaudine, but looked to Sasha and the others, his voice a gentle contrast to his huge, intimidating size. "No harm will come to him, Comrades. You have my word." As if to demonstrate, he turned to Beaudine and offered, still gently, "Please come with me, Comrade Ensign."