Surefoot 83: The Dragon Gambit

Because those instincts told him the intruder never left this area. It was still here. Maybe watching them right now.

Didn't like the taste of Bolian flesh, did you, you murdering bastard? Too caustic for your tastes? Leave you with a bellyache?

He unsheathed his claws. I can cure you of that.

*

Deck 2, Guest Quarters 47:

Orlok stared at her computer and confirmed, "They have instituted General Quarters Four."

Nearby, Fantomax rechecked the equipment harness on her scattersuit and adjusted her multispectral goggles. "That means Auxiliary Command on Deck 13 should be cleared and locked down by now. Any word on Jaws' present location?"

"He's reached the Cargo Turbolift shaft on Deck 6- wait, he's pausing, hesitating-"

At the table, picking at the biscuit crumbs on Fantomax's face, Ben wrinkled his nose. "Probably eyeing his next meal. They must have installed a black hole in his belly with all his other cybernetics."

Fantomax ran one final check on her personal transporter unit, wishing she had a communications link with her ship's computer, Parker, to watch her back. Him, she trusted, more than her current partners in crime. Well, she trusted the Rat Pack anyway.

She paused. Zorin's cybernetic bodyguard Jaws was brutal, literally making meals out of innocent crewmen as part of his master's stratagem. Fantomax was a thief, avoiding violence whenever possible. Now she was an accomplice to murder. Unwilling, perhaps, but still an accomplice. It was an arrangement that didn't seem to bother most of the others in the Bel-Zon - especially not psychopaths like Orlok - but it weighed on her like a millstone around her neck. And if she could escape from Zorin's influence alive, she would.

But she couldn't. Not now, anyway. "Tell me you placed the isolinear tag in a location in Auxiliary Command that isn't only rat-sized."

Ben was tossing the rest of the crumbs down to his Pack now. "I chose their toilet; it'll provide you additional cover in the event they have additional security measures we can't detect remotely."

"Astute thinking, thank you. Wish me luck."

"Luck is a superstition," Orlok declared. "A practice unworthy of civilised individuals."

"As opposed to a lifetime spent concocting poisons and diseases to commit genocide? Spare us your hypocritical sanctimony." Fantomax locked onto the isolinear tag and activated her transporter, vanishing.

*

Deck 3, Hospital:

"NO!"

Eydiir had been following protocol and arming herself with some of her own personal weapons from Capella IV, when the cry came from the ICU Room where they were keeping the life support unit for Turikana and Constante's egg. She quickened her pace when she saw two Security crewmen begin struggling with the mother and the medic Levatrice. "What's going on?"

The crewmen stepped back, hands resting on their holstered phasers, one of them, a swarthy sable-haired Terran named Lamont, explaining, "We have orders to isolate all the Paserak together in the Arboretum! One of them's been running around killing our people!"

"That's a lie!" Constante hissed. "We would never harm you!"

"They can't be moved," Eydiir confirmed. "We need the equipment here to keep the egg alive."

The crewmen exchanged glances again, before Lamont responded with, "Fine, but the adult will have to come with us."

Constante bared her teeth. "I'm not leaving my child!"

"It's an egg, not a child!"

"Enough of this knavery!" Eydiir stood between the guards and the Paserak, feeling her face heat up from the crewmen's obstinacy and ignorance. "No one's leaving here! You have orders to stand guard outside the Hospital, now do so!"

Lamont raised his dimpled chin. "If we have to call Lieutenant Salvo-"

"-Then y'all be in for a hard fall from your saddles," interrupted Doc Masterson, striding towards them and tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his uniform jacket. "'Coz before all this brouhaha stirred up, I informed Commodore Hrelle of the need for our patient and their mother and medical specialist to remain here. He had no burr in his britches over doing that. Now, why don't y'all skedaddle?" He shooed them off, looking back at Constante, tipping an imaginary hat. "Sorry about that, Ma'am. Y'all be safe in here now."

*

Deck 4, Arboretum:

Turikana tried his best. He really tried. His place was among his tribe, almost all of them having been gathered here, among this huge living enclosure on Salem One, trying to keep the peace between them and Starfleet. But all he really wanted to do was be updeck in the Hospital with his wife and egg.

What was he thinking of? Stranded on this station, homeless, and having a hatchling now, at this most critical time in their people's lives? Even if his child comes to term, how many of his people, his own tribe, will accept them as one of their own kind, instead of Hollow, soulless-

"Turikana! Aren't you paying attention?"

He turned back to his cousin Scortese. "I am. But you haven't said anything new, just retraced old trails expecting different outcomes: a definition of insanity."

The male hissed, eyes clouding in anger as he raised his voice, drawing more of their people closer into the argument... and more on his side than Turikana's. "Better insanity than perfidy! You've allowed these Uniforms to imprison us, condemn us, and to keep your mate hostage elsewhere to ensure your compliance!"

Turikana glanced over at the entrance, where several Starfleet Security crewmen stood, including that huge one Urad, the one whose size belied the gentle soul within, and who had made an impression on the hatchlings of their tribe. "Keep your voice down, Scortese! My wife is not a hostage to Starfleet! She's in their Hospital! And Levatrice is with her!"

"Why? What is wrong with her? What can they do for her that we can't do for our own people?"

Turikana hesitated; did he tell them all now, and risk further conflict? Or would it be worse for them all if he kept the truth from his tribe and they learned of his duplicity later?

Then Maggiore stepped up, the eldest Paserak among them regarding Scortese critically. "What is wrong with Constante is none of our affair. And the Starfleet medical team can do much for us; their Chief Doctor and Nurse assisted with realigning my spine." She swished her tail behind her in demonstration.

Scortese clouded his eyes at her as he sneered, "No one is interested in what you have to say, old crone!"

Suddenly every Paserak surrounding him hissed back at once, making him shrink back instinctively and curl his tail around himself protectively, leaving an outraged Turikana to point a clawed finger at his cousin. "Remember how we treat our Elders!"

Scortese remained in a defensive stance, glancing around. "I- I-"

Nearby, the merchant Sirizo raised a clawed hand of his own at the younger male. "The word you seek to end that declaration is 'apologise'."

Scortese hissed again, but offered, "I... apologise."

Turikana lowered his voice again as he drew closer. "Starfleet has been nothing but hospitable to us since they returned, when we were left stranded here!"

"Yes," Scortese growled now through clenched teeth. "Yes, so very hospitable: exploiting our expertise, learning our secrets, indoctrinating our hatchlings in their statist ways! And now that they have taken what they can from us, they have corralled us here, waiting to be exterminated!" As his supporters behind him made sounds of agreement, he continued, bolstered. "And you are conspiring with them!"

Turikana hissed, raising his claws.

Until Maggiore raised her own claws literally between them. "Enough! People have died, and everyone is afraid!"

"Then we should leave," Scortese suggested. "We have the numbers and the technology to steal one of the docked ships!"

"Were you dropped much when you were still in your shell, Cousin?" Turikana exclaimed. "Those ships are docked here because they weren't strong enough to resist the ion storm or fast enough to flee it! We have lost so many of our tribe, you would condemn the rest of us to join them? Go! Go sit beneath a tree and calm down!"

Scortese hissed again, but turned and walked away, trailed by his supporters like freshly-imprinted hatchlings. Turikana watched them depart, starting as Maggiore rested a clawed hand on his arm, capturing his attention again as she guided him away towards a collection of some sweet-smelling blossoms, her voice soft. "You are doing well, under trying circumstances. Your father would be proud of you."

He ground his teeth, but remembered his etiquette. "Thank you, Elder. I wish he was still with us."

"As do I; Maquadan had an appetite that appreciated my cooking." She paused and asked, more softly, "How is the egg doing?"

He reacted again. "How- How did you know?"

The older Paserak made an amused sound. "At my age, one could see the signs that she was Bearing; she is in good, safe hands with our friends. And I know why you both are reluctant to reveal your blessing, and understand. But you cannot keep it secret indefinitely."

He nodded, his scales flushing. "I know. Those among us who still embrace the old beliefs must cast them aside; too much has occurred to afford us such luxuries any longer. We may never set tail on the Birthworld again!"

He breathed out, looking at some of the younger Paserak scampering about the foliage, playing games, ignorant of the reasons why school was cancelled for the rest of the day. "But I couldn't bear to have relatives, people I have known all my life, grown up with, look upon my hatchling and only see something... soulless."

Maggiore squeezed his arm... as theirs, and others' attentions, were drawn to the Arboretum doors opening, and several familiar individuals entered, led by the Commodore's wife, Kami, dressed in civilian gear, and carrying her daughter Sreen in one arm, and leading her son Misha by the paw in the other.

She faced the suspicious Paserak glaring back... and smiled, calling out, "Hello there! I hope you don't mind us staying here with you, but my littlest daughter here has learned a new song and is just demanding an audience!" She glanced down at her son, who was cradling a bright red ball. "Go on, Cub of Mine, and keep the play out of the azalea bushes!"

"Okeedoke, Mama!" Laughing, he rushed to join his friends.

The Elder Paserak chuckled. "Oh, she's good. She discards her uniform and sidearm, and brings her cubs along to show her trust in us and deflect tension."

As if in demonstration of Maggiore's assessment, Kami boldly approached the most intimidating group of Paserak, and when he saw the reactions of his people, and the reactions of the Starfleet Security as well, Turikana almost intervened. Until the Caitian female adjusted the infant in her arms to face the crowd, and announced loudly, "Go on, Sweetie, let them hear you..."

The cub Sreen looked out, holding out her arms and began crooning, "Kui soovid tähte, pole vahet, kes sa oled, kõik, mida su süda ihkab, tuleb sinu juurde..."

Turikana started at it, almost immediately, as did others, as they recognised the song. "That's Bright Star! One of our own lullabies!"

"I know, I taught Sreen that. Which among us could hear that song coming from that adorable little bundle of fur and remain hostile?" Maggiore chuckled. "The Counselor is very, very good. You could learn a few things from her, Mighty Tribal Leader..."

*

The first time that Hrelle had become aware of the tactical advantage his senses afforded him among non-Caitians was almost forty years ago, back at the Academy, during his training as a Security officer. It, along with his innate strength and speed, gave him an edge over many others in his class. And it had served him well since, even if lately they weren't as acute as they once were.

But they had to be, now. Too many of his people had died today already.

He could hear the shifting of Salvo and the Security team just outside in the corridor, behind freshly-erected barricades, their weapons ready for when he finds and drives out the intruder... assuming he wasn't going senile and was deluding himself. Or that the intruder is a shapeshifter - a Founder? Could they still be in this Quadrant after the War, causing havoc? - or has technology to transport away or phase through walls and floors...

He put aside such thoughts, letting his senses focus on nothing but detecting the undetectable, his nose, ears, eyes and skin working as one, blanking out the known sensory inputs, the distractions, the dead ends. He moved silently, stealthily, carefully stepping through each open doorway, his body a coiled spring, as he entered the storage and utility facilities supporting this section of the station deck.

The soft cool breeze of air from the open shaft.

The pungent tang of cleaning fluid.

A rat scittering behind a tiny vent.

That scent he picked up from the digestive fluids and bile.

A slight rise in temperature, the shift of air currents.

A scratch of a sharp claw against the bulkhead.

Oh, there was definitely something else near. Something that shouldn't be here.

It was in Storage Room 6-1, where outdated or broken exercise equipment was placed for repair or recycling, that he heard the breathing. Not his own, not those outside, not some tiny scavenger. Something big.

He drew his pistol, feeling his fur stand on end like it always did when he was in the midst of a planetary thunderstorm. He glanced around the room, the various mechanical bits and pieces offering no place to hide.

Then he called out, "Are you detecting anything, Lieutenant?"

Seconds later, Salvo called back, "The tricorder is experiencing interference now, Sir! You were right about that! Are you sensing anything?"

He cocked the hammer. "Oh yes. The bastard's right in here with me. The coward just doesn't have the balls to come out of hiding."

" Sticks and stones... "

Hrelle spun around, raising his pistol as the air before him shimmered like heat patterns... or a cloaked vessel decloaking, as a huge slate-grey dragonoid figure with spinal plates and a thick tail appeared into view, neon-blue eyes glowing.

Hrelle fired, striking the intruder in the head and chest, seeing some bullets pierce the hide, but most bounced off like pebbles.

The Dragon ducked with a speed and dexterity belying its size, spinning around to let its tail whip round and strike Hrelle in the gut, sending him slamming into the wall. He struggled to stay conscious and hold onto his pistol, but the Dragon grabbed it and flung it aside, its breath hot and mephitic as it snarled, " Orders are to leave you alive, Kitty Cat. Everyone else here, however, is on the menu... Ta Ta! "

Hrelle struck out with a clawed paw at its muzzle, but the result was pitiful, and he could barely call out a warning to his people, as the Dragon rushed out into the corridor. He looked up as he heard the gunfire, saw the bullets strike the Dragon uselessly as his own had, and felt the fur stand up again from as he saw a neon-blue glow on the Dragon's spinal plates, before the Dragon opened its muzzle and breathed plasma fire in the direction of the gunfire.

"NO!" Desperate to save his people, Hrelle glanced around, picking up a long durasteel bar, part of some discarded exercise machine, and pushed back his pain to help himself up and charge ahead, striking the side of the Dragon's head.

The attacker stopped breathing fire to roar, " Mind your own fucking business! "

Hrelle attacked him, again and again, driving him back down the corridor until the Dragon spun in place and rushed off. Hrelle cautiously glanced out from the storage room, knowing the Dragon had nowhere to go down there with the turbolift shut down, before rushing in the opposite direction. "Lieutenant!"

He was coughing now from the smoked scorched walls and floors, gratefully hearing coughs from the others, who were struggling to rise from behind their barricades. Salvo looked as furious from her body's struggles to breathe as from the attack. "S-Sir- the In-Intrud-"

All heads turned at the sound of screeching metal from the far end of the corridor, Hrelle wincing as he recognised the clamour. "It's ripping into the shaft!" He raised his communicator. "General Quarters 4! The intruder is a Dragon, with cybernetic enhancements, personal stealth technology and plasma weaponry! It's in Cargo Turbolift Shaft 4-" He paused, cocking his ear. "Heading updeck! All units converge on every access above Deck 6!"

Now Salvo joined in on her own communicator. "Thassis! We need the T300s, all levels! The T100s aren't strong enough! All units, keep your channels open, I want to know where the intruder appears next!" She lowered her communicator, reached out and took the bar from him. "Get to Ops, Sir, lock it down fully and coordinate the hunt from there."

He glared at her angrily, baring his teeth, his pulse racing, wanting to remain on the hunt... before accepting she was right. He handed her the bar. "Bona Fortuna - maybe you can sharpen this into a spear-"

He stopped and spun around again as he heard the sound of more tearing metal from the shaft, as Salvo and the others rushed into action. And Hrelle rushed back updeck, needing to protect his people in the best way he can.

*

Eydiir turned, as did everyone else in the Hospital, to the shredding of metal from the adjacent room, and then the shredding was joined by screams, as a huge, tailed creature burst out of the Jefferies Tube: a Dragon, a reptoid race reminiscent of the Gorn, but considered more legendary than real. A part of Eydiir's mind studied its actions, noting the glistening along its hide, reminiscent of the shedding properties that certain reptoids employed to fit through confined spaces, even as segmented fins expanded upwards along its spine. Fins that glowed as part of some sort of cybernetic enhancement, as described in Commodore Hrelle's assessment of the intruder.

She continued to study the creature, but still sprung into action, sending Constante into the Isochamber to be with her egg, locking them both in, and shooing other medical staff away, before joining the Security team who ran into the main Hospital room, Lamont raising his phaser rifle and calling out, "Intruder! Drop your weapons and surrender!"

The creature looked at him - and laughed. " I hope you're tastier than the bald blue bastard I had in the gym! "

"Fire!" Eydiir shouted at the team. "It has no interest in surrendering!"

The Dragon beckoned mockingly to him, " She's right, kid! Come on, let's see what you got! "

That steeled Lamont. "FIRE!"

He tried - his phaser didn't work. His colleagues, however, had ballistic weapons, and were more successful, the gunfire filling the enclosed spaces, the bullets striking the creature and the surrounding wall, even as the creature knocked over equipment and roared.

Lamont watched the engagement, but glanced at Eydiir, saying over the noise, "Get back, Nurse, this is too dangerous for you!"

"Clearly you're new here," she replied, drawing one of her crescent Capellan kligat throwing blades from her bandolier and flinging it in the direction of the creature, as it was opening its mouth in their direction, a deep blue glow rising from the back of its throat. The blade whistled through the air, striking the Dragon's jaw and knocking several sharp teeth from its jaw.

It spat out blood and turned, even as another Security guard entered from outside carrying a new weapon, but the guard was knocked aside by the creature escaping. Lamont, Eydiir and the others chasing after it into the corridor - only to find it empty.