Surefoot 83: The Dragon Gambit

"No, Counselor. The burns from the plasma flashfires didn't leave enough evidence to confirm the origins of the attacker."

Hrelle made a sound, looking towards Sakai. "What about those plasma fires themselves? Have you determined the cause?"

His Chief Engineer looked up, his face taut. "Definitely not from malfunctions, or in fact anything to do with the surrounding systems. They're being externally generated."

"A plasma weapon?" He turned to Salvo.

The Nova Roman nodded - staring openly in Turikana's direction as she replied, "Agreed, Commodore. The plasma residue we detected at both scenes is of a mixture different to any of the power conduits on the station, and the blast patterns would indicate a directed energy weapon rather than a plasma charge or anything else that might cause an explosive pattern."

"And there are many races out there who use plasma-based weapons," Hrelle noted. "Klingons, Romulans, Cardassians, Ferengi, Orion, Kzinti, Federation civilian organisations-"

"Paserak," Salvo added.

Turikana's eyes clouded over in anger, his voice accentuating the normal hiss. "How dare you? We had nothing to do with the horrible deaths of your men!"

Kami rested a paw on his forearm. "No one is saying that, Turi." She looked back at Salvo challengingly. "Are you?"

Salvo remained steely, her gaze fixed on the Paserak. "Your people have sophisticated technical expertise, have knowledge and access to many parts of this station, in fact you were on board for months prior to our arrival to resume command. There are no other reptoids register onboard apart from yourselves. And incidents have been logged, involving members of your race being openly hostile towards Starfleet."

"You call us killers?" Turikana rose to his feet, hissing openly, teeth bared. Salvo rose as well, her hand moving to the phaser on her hip, and everyone tensed.

Then Hrelle rapped on the table, his own hackles raised as he saw how close Kami was to the young enraged reptoid. "Sit down." He eyed Salvo. "Both of you." Once they complied, he indicated Sternhagen. "You ran the Intruder Scan, and found nothing. But we have refugees from the ion storm here, along with their ships, within our deflector bubble. What do we know about them?"

His Station Master picked up her PADD. "24 in total: six crew from the Norkova-class freighter Volgagrad, along with two representatives from mining operation on Scesity, all human; six Ferengi from the Speculator-class scout ship Short Sell, part of their people's Colony Project on Axyllus III; a human and Vulcan couple from the private flyer Thunderbird One; and two crew from the the runabout Shannon, along with six passengers from the Federation Science Council, scheduled to relieve the covert observation team on Bandera, totalling three humans, four Denobulans and one Vulcan."

"The four vessels are secured at the airlocks? No evidence of anyone entering or leaving since they docked?"

Sternhagen shook her head. "I've triple-checked the logs."

"Run background checks on all our guests." To Salvo he added, "I want their vessels searched as well, prior to a physical sweep of the station interior."

Salvo nodded, but then added, "Commodore, I must also recommend at this time confining the Paserak contingent together."

"Again you condemn us?" Turikana rasped loudly, facing Hrelle. "We have lived and worked among you for months now! Yes, some among us retain the anti-establishment attitudes of my race as a whole, but that's a great leap from that to committing these vicious, horrible killings you have described!"

"Yes, " Kami agreed, fixed on Salvo. "You're out of line, Lieutenant."

"No," Hrelle disagreed resolutely, recapturing his wife's and everyone else's attention. "She's not. Lt Salvo is performing her duty."

Then Salvo offered, in a conciliatory tone, "Just to clarify, Counselor, I do not wish to inter the Paserak community, just keep them together temporarily in a single area, such as the Arboretum, while we sweep the rest of the station and avoid their proximity triggering false alarms."

Kami stared back, as if seeking deception, before turning to Turikana. "Will your people accept an arrangement like this?"

The Paserak leader looked around him, his eyes beginning to uncloud but his voice retaining a bitter sting. "It appears we have little choice."

Hrelle leaned back in his chair. "Once the Paserak are together in the Arboretum, we'll institute the search of the station and the visitor's ships. Capt Sternhagen, Lt Salvo, you'll recruit all non-essential Starfleet personnel you need for the security support - except for the cadets; those cubs stay locked up and safe. Any idea about when the ion storm will dissipate?"

Sternhagen checked her PADD again. "Lt Stalac figures it'll ease up to the point where travel will be safe in about six hours, but communications to the outside should clear sometime before that."

"I want the killer apprehended before there's any chance of their escaping. Dismissed... would you please wait behind, Turi?"

The Paserak tribal leader hesitated, but sat down again. Hrelle exchanged a glance with Kami, exchanged far more between them, but said nothing further until he was alone with the younger figure, and adopted a calmer, less threatening tone. "I'm sorry that this crisis requires us to take such actions, Turikana. You're correct: you and your tribe have lived and worked with us for some time, without any major problems arising. And your assistance has been invaluable in keeping us at optimum levels in record time, and I would regret damaging our relationship."

"And yet, Commodore, we both know these actions will only serve to reinforce the attitudes among members of my tribe regarding Starfleet and the Federation: that you are statist, fascist, militaristic, no different to the Dominion or the Cardassians or any other galactic power."

Hrelle nodded, conceding, "It could happen. But I have a responsibility to my people, a responsibility over and above all other matters, and it's a risk I'm willing to take. Anyone who thinks command is easy has never really commanded."

Turikana hissed. "On that, we can agree, Commodore. Between you and me, since my father's death left me in charge of what remains of our tribe, I have... struggled... to do what is right. Always second- and third-guessing every decision I make, knowing I could turn to no one else for counsel. It is like a weight on my tail, dragging on me all the time..."

Hrelle grunted in sympathy. "You have never informed me or anyone else of the reason behind the civil war, the Schism, amongst the Paserak, or what drove your tribe to seek refuge from your people on Salem One. I've respected your desire for secrecy... now, however, I can't help but wonder if these murders might be connected."

"They are not!"

Hrelle regarded him for a moment, before finally responding. "I've known you since you were a hatchling, accompanying your father Maquedan whenever we secretly met to exchange information about activities and threats within the Sector. I respected him, and I respect you, especially with the accomplishments you have made in keeping your tribe alive by living and working with us. But this can't continue, not unless you trust me with the problems of your people."

"I- I can't-" Then he hissed, slapping his clawed hand down onto the tabletop in frustration. "More weight upon my tail! There are secrets that could put my whole race in jeopardy, should outsiders learn of our vulnerability!"

"Turi... if your people have reached a level of internal conflict where you are literally killing each other and are forced to reside here, it sounds like you're already vulnerable."

Turikana remained tense... before finally breathing out, "My father spoke of you with great respect and trust... a respect and trust you have earned from me as well more recently.

You know we live as nomads, Commodore: generations of us growing up, working and dying on our tribeships, and have done so for many, many millennia. We make no permanent settlements on any planet, for we believe no being can lay claim to any world like you and so many other powers in the Galaxy seem to do."

Hrelle nodded. "But it couldn't have always been the case, could it? You didn't evolve in space."

Turikana nodded back. "You are correct. There is a planet within our territories, its location known only to our tribes, from which we originated. Long ago, we were a different people, much more like yours and many other races, with cities and installations and infrastructures... and our ways nearly poisoned our planet. Until our Renaissance changed our way of life, our attitudes to permanently living on our world, on any world, and we left it to recover, left our cities to crumble and be reclaimed by nature.

But it remained our Birthworld, not just because we came from there, but because we must return there and reside for a short time when we seek to produce offspring, because the unique combination of temperature, atmosphere and radiation permeates the egg upon oviposition, allowing the life within to successfully come to term and hatch. No matter how distant our travels may take us, every tribe finds the time to return every few years, to help bring forth the next generation.",

Hrelle took it in, aware of how privileged he was to be made aware of the secrets of these people, secrets he never expected, though it explained much about the Paseraks' attitudes to those who lived permanently on planets. "And you can't recreate the conditions on our Birthworld onboard your tribeships, to bring the hatchlings to term?"

Turikana bristled. "It can be done, albeit with difficulty; here on your station, my mate and I are secretly attempting against the odds to do this, and we hope that your people and technology can help. But the problem lies with my people's beliefs. Many believe that we receive more from our Birthworld than just atmospheric particulates and metaphasic radiation; we receive our spirits. A hatchling born off our Birthworld would be considered a soulless science-bred abomination by many. I suspect that should my own hatchling survive to term, that there are those even among my tribe who will not consider it a true Paserak."

Hrelle nodded, having heard similar issues raised among other races. "So what's changed, to bring about this Schism among your tribes?"

The Paserak breathed in sharply. "Our Birthworld's sun has undergone a nova, its radiation levels increasing and altering the planet's ecosystems, destroying our ozone layer and preventing many successful hatchings."

"But it would be easy enough to construct atmospheric compensators to-" Hrelle caught himself. "Your people's prohibition against permanent construction on any planets, even your own..."

Turikana nodded. "Yes. Those Doctrinals among us have refused to allow it, even at the cost of our race's survival. My father led those who believed an exception should be made, but the arguments quickly turned bloody. We were attacked not far from here... the rest, you know. We have tried to covertly monitor our shared communications bands for any progress on the Schism, with little success."

Hrelle leaned back, taking it all in. It seemed absurd to him, that a people would risk self-extinction over a matter of dogma... but Galactic History presented more absurd examples, like the black/white insanity of the Cheronites, or the activities of the Thermians driven by ancient Terran entertainment transmissions treated as historical documents. "Thank you for your trust you have shown me by revealing this."

The Paserak male looked up at him. "And what will you do with this information? Inform your superiors?"

"No... unless your people's conflict begins affecting us - assuming that what has happened today isn't connected. Otherwise, our Non-Interference Policy would keep us out of your internal conflict anyway." He rose up, walking around until he stopped at the display on his wall, of his Kaetini sword and other traditional Caitian weapons and pieces of Kaetini armour, mounted surrounding a round tritanium shield with a lion head in the centre, a birthday gift from his old buddy Weynik.

Then he turned back. "Unless, of course, we were asked for assistance from you or your people. Then we could apply the combined scientific expertise of over 150 worlds towards your problem, and all without asking for anything in return." He shrugged. "Not that I'm trying to influence you or anything..."

Turikana hissed again, albeit with some amusement now.

*

Deck 6, Gymnasium 2:

"There is no cause for alarm. Station Salem One is now under Security General Quarters Two..."

Security Crewman Tox Garrell cursed as he nearly tripped over a discarded barbell. Holy Hraxor, he knew it was an alert, but didn't people have enough sense to put away the equipment before departing for their assigned stations? And didn't you have enough sense to look up from the tricorder screen to see where you're going, Tox?

The room, one of several in the Gymnasium, was lined with walls of mirrors which reflected endless rows of weight racks, exercise machines of many varieties... and himself. He glanced at one reflection, seeing the bald blue bisected face glance back, and he instinctively sucked in his gut a little more, despite being in decent shape already as part of his job. On the other hand, of late he'd been favouring the shimmershell pasta at the Commissary-

"Crewman Garell," came the voice of his superior, Petty Officer Thassis, over Tox's combadge, the accusing monotone making Tox's teeth itch. "You should have completed the visual sweep of that section by now."

Tox was about to reply, albeit not the one he first thought - he was certain Andorians were born accusing their parents of making a poor delivery of their offspring - when he saw something from the corner of his eye. He stared in a corner of the room, where gravity pulleys hung from the ceiling, the thick black styrolite cables fixed with grips swinging-

What made them swing?

"Crewman Garell, respond."

He stared at the mirrored corner, only seeing his own reflection. Absently he reached up and touched his combadge. "Stand by, Mr Thassis. I'm investigating something."

"Crewm- fmfmms- tfskllw-"

The combadge went silent. Tox was too distracted to think about it, as he raised his tricorder in the direction of the corner: no one else was detected in the surrounding area. But he was certain he could feel the presence of someone else.

As he turned to leave, he heard the voice, soft and croaking like a Bolian swamphopper, the type he would always hear in the background of those horror vivids he used to watch as a child. " Don't go... "

He spun around again, drawing his phaser now, his heart pounding. "Starfleet Security! Show yourself and surrender!" Weapon raised, he dropped his tricorder and reached up to his combadge. "Intruder in Gymnasium 2! I need backup! I NEED BACKUP!"

From the corner of the room, where he only saw himself, the disembodied voice replied, " And I need a palate cleanser... "

And then Tox saw it: the fog appearing on one of the mirrors, as if someone or something was breathing on it.

Something big.

Then it came into view and charged.

Tox resisted the urge to run, or to do nothing, and instead followed his training, ensuring his phaser was set on the expected power level as he squeezed the trigger, fully expecting to bring down the monster he saw before him.

He didn't expect the phaser not to function.

He had no time to react to that. as he was tackled and his killer cracked his head open like an egg.

*

It was seconds later when two more Security crewmen raced down one end of the corridor outside Gymnasium 2, drawing their phasers as the door slid open, and a huge, slate-grey tailed reptoid with spinal fins emerged... throwing up, coughing and sputtering from its muzzle, snarling, " Disgusting! "

They attempted to fire... and failed.

It looked up at them and breathed blue-white fire in their direction...

*

Moments later, Hrelle and Salvo had joined those already at the scene of carnage, medical personnel examining the burned Security crewmen in the corridor, though one of them - Joan Leslie, Hrelle recognised, one of the transfers from the Surefoot - appeared still alive.

Then his nose alerted him to the remains of someone else, someone with a Bolian scent, ahead. He pushed through the crew surrounding it, confirmed that someone else had definitely died here, and was definitely Bolian. And had definitely been at least partially consumed. A look into Gymnasium 2 sealed that confirmation.

He suppressed his protesting stomach as he turned back to Salvo, who was being briefed by Petty Officer Thassis. "Crewman Tox Garell was running a visual clearance of Gymnasium 2, when we lost contact with him; some type of local subspace interference." He indicated Leslie, who was being loaded onto an antigrav gurney. "Crewman Leslie was still conscious when I arrived; she identified the attacker as a large, tailed reptoid, possibly Paserak."

Salvo looked at Hrelle, who struck his combadge. "Hrelle to Ops: General Quarters Four, lockdown Deck 6, and make sure all Paserak are accounted for in the Arboretum." He closed the channel, his anger and anxiety rising further. More deaths under his command...

"You're convinced the Paserak are responsible now?" Salvo asked him.

"Yes... but not necessarily any of the ones we know. We may have one of them onboard trying to drive our Paserak off the station as part of their conflict."

"Why would you think that?"

"That doesn't matter. I just want ours accounted for so they don't get caught in the line of fire." He noticed the dropped phasers from the fallen crewmen, knelt down and picked one up, examining it. "Our people are experienced, they would have fired... the power cells are still at 100%..." He set the phaser on minimum and fired at the floor, producing an orange-red beam that struck harmlessly. "Unless something prevented them."

Then he rose again, stepping slowly towards the far end of the corridor, which curved around past several storage rooms before reaching one of the cargo turbolift shafts, before stopping again. "Mr Thassis, you indicated there was subspace interference affecting the local combadge network as this attack occurred. We may have a killer with sophisticated technology to block our sensors, communications, and phasers.

I want at least one member of every Security equipped with a ballistic weapon from the Armoury. I also want TMP-4 communicators; they're short range but work on chemical batteries and EM frequencies."

Salvo waited for more, before finally ordering Thassis to obey. Then she saw him standing still, but subtly signal for her to approach him. She did, stepping aside his twitching tail, Salvo tensing as she saw his expression. "Sir-"

"Shhh...." With a low voice, he muttered, "Don't react. Clear the Medical and Support teams - quietly - and leave the bodies and the remains, we'll clear up later. When Thassis gets back with our ballistic weapons and communicators, I want the bulkhead behind us locked down, along with that cargo turbolift down there."

"What-"

Then she seemed to understand, and walked away again to fulfil his orders.

Hrelle stepped forward, approaching the remains of Crewman Garrell, and what was digestive juices, bile, dropping to one knee as he focused his senses on the unfamiliar scents, awakening his predatory instincts, instincts he would need to be awake and alert in the coming hunt.