Surefoot 83: The Dragon Gambit

It dropped, spasming, onto the bulkhead, the life in it fleeing with the fight.

Hrelle staggered back, catching his breath, his nostrils filled with the scent of the Dragon's innards, his limbs aching, his sword and shield hanging limply on either side of him.

He turned to see Salvo kneeling beside Urad, dismayed by the sight and scent of the wounded man, but remaining composed as she tapped her combadge. "Ops, are you still reading the transporter disruptor field?"

"Negative, Lieutenant, it's gone now."

"Beam Ensign Kaldron to Sickbay!" Hrelle ordered hoarsely before Salvo could respond first, turning to face the rest of his crew. "All the wounded! Secure this area!"

*

In Guest Quarters 47, Fantomax and Orlok swiftly packed up the last of their equipment, the thief's pulse racing since discovering the defeat of their colleague by Hrelle and his people, sooner than expected. "Well, so much for Jaws."

"You are wasting time making pointless observations," Orlok informed her. "We must return to your ship and depart before the station authorities learn of our involvement."

"Now who's making pointless observations? What's the status of the ion storm?"

Ben, sitting on top of one of the cases, cocked his head at the monitor, the rat's whiskers twitching. "It's subsided to Force 1, they're saying normal travel can resume in 2 hours- no, wait, they've announced a delay in the release of the vessels from the station!"

"Of course," the Vulcan pointed out archly. "No one will be allowed to depart pending a full investigation of the events of today. Can your little luxury yacht manage to safely navigate us out of what remains of the storm?"

Fantomax locked the case and set it down with the others on the floor. "The Thunderbird One is no mere 'luxury yacht', and the inroads we made into the station's control systems will allow us to shut down their tractors, uncouple and escape before they can stop us." She looked back at Ben. "Where's the rest of your Pack? I don't want to leave any of your people behind."

"They're all already onboard your ship, Milady."

Orlok lifted up the last of the cases and set it down with the others, within the circle created by their transporter enhancers. "I would hardly classify rodents linked in a collective hive mind to be 'people'."

"No one asked you." Fantomax reached out to allow Ben to race up along the length of her arm to sit on her shoulder, before retrieving the last of the cases, ensuring that the self-destruct devices they were leaving behind to eliminate any forensic evidence were activated.

She secretly hoped that none of the Starfleet personnel entered before they were triggered. Enough blood had been shed today - including Zorin's executioner - and all just for the opportunity to gain some valuable intelligence on Hrelle and his operations here. It was sickening.

And she was just as culpable as the rest of them. She activated her communicator. "Parker, beam us over, then power up the engines and prepare for a quick getaway."

*

Zir was gripping the edge of one of the stations at Ops, as she assisted Sternhagen in managing the station operations in the aftermath of the Dragon attack, fielding reports and communications. Urad will be okay, she tried to convince herself. He's too big and tough to be seriously hurt-

"Lieutenant?"

Too big and tough and lovable and decent and kind and generous-

"Lieutenant!"

The Orion woman started as Sternhagen was practically beside her, reaching in front of her to reroute the communications that Zir should have been answering, instead of just standing there. The older Terran woman straightened up, looking annoyed... and sympathetic. "Lieutenant-"

Zir felt herself flush a deep dark olive, and she straightened up as stiffly as a freshman cadet on her first inspection. "Captain! I'm sorry! I- I-"

Sternhagen raised a bony, wrinkled hand to cut her off. "Lieutenant... go to Sickbay and keep us updated as to the condition of the wounded; the Commodore will want someone there. And Ensign Kaldron might need specialist equipment replicated, make sure they get whatever they want, Commodore's Authorisation."

"Captain?"

Zir and Sternhagen turned as Stalac slithered up, the Horta's Voder-generating voice expressing concern. "Captain, request permission to accompany Lt Dassene to the Sickbay-"

"Sorry, Lieutenant, I know Mr Kaldron's a good friend of yours, too, but you have a job to do first: get a multispectral scanner down to the Arboretum and scan the remains of the intruder."

"Me? I would have expected a Security team to perform that task."

"Normally, yes, but they've got to run further Security sweeps... and they've already lost several people." She thumbed towards the exit. "Get going, both of you-"

An alert came from an adjacent station, drawing everyone's attention, as Lt Ajik reported, "Captain! The Terran flyer Thunderbird One has just disengaged from the Airlock Nine!"

Zir froze. That was the vessel of that couple she escorted around before all this started!

She watched as Sternhagen barked, "Hail them! Get a tractor beam locked on that ship!"

"They're not answering! And I'm reading a malfunction on the tractor arrays!"

Zir rejoined them. "Could it have something to do with the ion storm?"

"No, Zir," Stalac responded. "Not at its current force level."

She looked down at him, and then back at the screen, recalling the two women who came here in that flyer. They seemed ordinary enough, despite the hostile behaviour from the Vulcan/Romulan. Could they have really been involved in today's horrifying events? And if so, was there something she should have seen about it beforehand? Something she missed? Is it her fault that Urad, that everyone else had been wounded, killed? No, please don't let it be so-

"Lieutenant!" Sternhagen snapped, dragging her out of her thoughts. "Forget what's happening here, you and Rocky have jobs to do, now move it!"

Zir shook, her breath quickening, but she nodded. "Yes, Ma'am..." She turned, following Stalac out, without fully losing those thoughts, that guilt.

*

Eydiir and Masterson worked together, having more practical experience than most of their staff, immediately assessing the extent of the injuries and diagnosing and assigning. Their professionalism acted as a buffer for the nurses and technicians around them.

Still Eydiir could barely contain her alarm at the sight of Urad Kaldron, his back, the back of his head, arms and legs charred, blackened and smouldering around the exposed inner tissue, as he beamed onto the pre-prepared biobed, the readings above seeming to voice her suppressed shock. He had always seemed so... indestructible...

Then she snapped into action, as Masterson moved swiftly around the biobed, his drawl louder and more pronounced whenever he was stressed. "Dawson, prep three packs of the kelotane, we'll need all of them at once- Eydiir, 500ccs triptacederine- no, go for the jugular, you won't pierce his hide in the usual places-"

She complied, catching sight of Zir Dassene, entering and struggling to control her reaction on seeing her friend... but to her credit, holding back and not interfering. Eydiir looked back at the readings. "The burns are too extensive for the usual dermaline or Nanite therapies-"

"Yeah, and he's too damn big to survive long enough for the normal treatments." He rubbed his dimpled chin. "And we'll have to compensate for his Heavyworlder physiology. I'd recommend putting him in an induced coma and letting him heal in a hydrostasis chamber within a liquid breathing medium like parafluorocarbon, but we don't have a chamber big enough to accommodate him."

"Then we'll make one."

Eydiir and Masterson turned to see the Paserak medic, along with Turikana, Constante and several others, draw up, Levatrice continued to offer, "We can adapt a decompression chamber on one of the spare airlocks, those would be big enough."

Masterson glanced at Eydiir, before asking, "You think you can get something together quick?"

One of the Paserak, wearing engineering colours, stepped forward, looking at Urad's condition in anguish... and, to Eydiir, guilt as well. "That man... saved my hatchling's life, at the risk of his own, and did so without hesitation. We - I - shall do everything possible for him."

The doctor nodded. "Alright, then, but you're gonna have to parlay with the Chief on all that, we don't have time-"

"You focus on your patients, Doctor," Zir suddenly announced, stepping forward and straightening up as she addressed the group. "I'm acting with the authority of Commodore Hrelle. Whatever you need, you'll have."

*

Hrelle strode into Ops, dropping his sword, shield and armour along the way, his face and paws still bloody from the Dragon as he approached Sternhagen. "Status!"

She barely reacted to his appearance. "The flyer Thunderbird One broke free, they had obvious access to our systems to disengage the clamps and shut down our tractors and sensors, as well as transporters to get them to their ship. I have Security outside the guest quarters they were using."

"Leave the quarters unopened, until we can get some drones in to check for booby traps. Which Squadron ship is the closest?"

"The Katana, if they're keeping to their schedule: an hour away at Warp 6."

He nodded, looking to Arik. "Hail them." As he breathed heavily, wincing in pain from his injuries, Sternhagen stared at him until he challenged, "What?"

"You want to get fixed up, Commodore? Or even cleaned up?"

"Later. You sent Zir down to Sickbay?"

She nodded. "Kami and the Cubs okay?"

He grunted; after defeating the Dragon, he caught a glimpse of his wife and offspring outside the Arboretum, but was too busy with the ongoing crisis to do more than confirm they were unharmed - which was probably for the best, or he might have bitten off Kami's head for not being safe in their quarters... and then regretted it.

"I have Captain Weynik, Sir," Ajik reported.

"Onscreen."

The main screen above them changed to that of a Roylan male in a Starfleet uniform, his beady black eyestalks dropping with concern as he regarded the state of his superior officer and best friend. "Bloody Hemra, Esek, what's happened?"

Hrelle's jaw tightened. "An assassin was brought onboard the station with one of our storm refugees. We've had casualties."

"I'll increase our speed, we'll be there in twenty minutes-"

"Belay that. The assassin is dead, but its accomplices have escaped in their vessel: a modified Opulent-class private vessel designated the Thunderbird One. We're sending you all the data we have on them and the passengers, and what's happened here." He took a step forward, pointing up at the screen, baring his teeth and his rage. "They do not get to go home. You bring them back... in irons, or in boxes. Is that understood, Captain?"

Weynik nodded curtly. "Yes, Commodore. We'll keep you posted. Katana out."

The screen darkened.

Hrelle continued to stare up, before turning and following back along the path he had taken, bending down and retrieving his discarded armour, shield and sword, even as he heard Sternhagen draw up to help. "So, didja have fun playing King Arthur fighting your Dragon?"

He grunted. "King Arthur never fought a dragon. Sir Gawain did. And Lancelot, and Tristan."

"Hmph. Didn't know you were into that classical literature crap."

He walked back into his office, setting the pieces down onto a table, as Sternhagen copied him. "The Knights of the Round Table reminded me of the Caitian Kaetini." He turned to her. "Status?"

"The wounded have been transported to the Hospital, Salvo has regrouped the remaining Security personnel and are conducting sweeps of the station as well as the vessels still docked, and Chief Sakai is running diagnostic sweeps of his own on station systems. So far, they've found transporter enhancers in Auxiliary Control, and some data bypass units in several junctions. What were they looking to do?"

He winced at the smell of the blood on his uniform, and stripped off his jacket, flinging it into the corner, before entering his adjacent toilet. "The Dragon was a diversion, a diversion of our attention and resources, while its accomplices did whatever in the Seven Hells they came here to do." He ran the water in the sink, washing his face and paws. "I know the Dragon had orders not to kill me."

"And who gave him those orders?"

He returned, still wiping his muzzle with a towel. "Someone with the money to find a Dragon, and cybernetically enhance him, and get his murderous ass here."

"Zorin?"

Hrelle didn't answer. He didn't have to. "Who checked the Thunderbird One occupants into the Guest Quarters? I want to talk with them."

"Zir. I sent her to the Hospital to check on her friend. You want me to call her back?"

"No. But maintain the current General Quarters, and arrange for security checks and questions for the other storm refugees before they're released; I doubt if anyone else was involved, but we can't be too careful." He looked over at his drinks cabinet, resisting the urge to visit. "How many?"

Sternhagen breathed out, knowing what he meant with the question. "Five: Engineering Crewman Brad Wyatt, on Deck 11; Engineering Crewman Arno Van Heerden, on Deck 8; and Security Crewman Tox Garrell, Paolo Neves and Joan Leslie on Deck 6."

"Joan died as well? She was still alive when I last saw her..." He swallowed. Five deaths under his command... "I want a status report from all departments in thirty minutes. And I don't want the Dragon's remains examined until we can get them scanned remotely."

She started. "I sent Lt Stalac down there..."

*

In the ruins of the Arboretum, Stalac slithered along, a part of his brain focused on recalling Hroch physiology and current Starfleet Medical treatments for burn injuries, hoping to offer some assistance to the Hospital staff in treating Urad. He sensed the surrounding damage, drawing up to what was obviously the remains of the being that had caused such terrible mayhem. His Horta senses, which allowed him to perceive the mineral content of everything around him, focused on the iron-copper rich blood, bones and tissue, and the artificial components woven within. Nothing too appetising there.

Come on, Pebble Brain, you can't give a report based on your gastronomic tastes. He drew closer, switching on the tricorder he had embedded on his side next to his combadge, which now chirped to life as if woken by the scanning, as Hrelle's voice piped up. "Lieutenant, hold off on doing any-"

An explosion from within the body of the Dragon erupted outwards.

*

Outside the Arboretum, Salvo was reassigning people towards scanning the remaining ships, when they heard and felt the explosion within. She drew her phaser. "Secure the doors!" Then she rushed inside, racing towards the far end, the obvious heart of the explosion. Unlike before, however, there was nothing interfering with the station's safety systems extinguishing the flames on the trees and foliage, and extracting the smoke from the air. She knew that only Lt Stalac had been there, sent inside to study the Dragon's corpse. If the young officer had been killed as well today- "LIEUTENANT!"

From the remaining smoke, the Horta slithered into view, covered in blackened ash and burning debris, but seemingly unaware of it as he approached. "Lieutenant Salvo... hello there..."

The Nova Roman stared down at him in astonishment, fully expecting him to be in literal pieces. "Are you hurt?"

"A... little shaken, but nothing worse than anything I've felt in a seismic shock back home. A micro-explosive within the remains of the Dragon reacted to my tricorder scans and detonated. I'm so sorry about that."

Salvo holstered her phaser. "I'm not. There's been enough death today."

*

"Station Salem One, Commodore's Log, Stardate 54133.45, Esek Hrelle Recording: the cleanup of the station, and the investigation behind the attack, continues. The Dragon possessed a self-destruct device to eliminate all potential traces of its origins... but there was enough of its remains on my sword and armour to hopefully provide evidence of the source of the cybernetic enhancement. A similar device destroyed the interior of the guest quarters used by the occupants of the Thunderbird One, who fled the station; hardly a coincidence there, especially after the further information obtained by my Security Chief..."

*

He stared up at the two images, both female, one a gaunt elderly human, the other an austere Vulcan, as Salvo indicated each. "The first is a thief, code-named Lady Fantomax, wanted on many worlds for many thefts, including the Crown of Volterra, the Ice Jewels of Frigia, the Third Imperial Faberge Egg, the Kappalodis Mechanism, the Last Surviving Banksy, and others.

The other is Dr Orlok, a bioterrorist wanted by Starfleet for inflicting the Phyrox Plague on Cor Caroli V in 2366, for the assassination of the Troyian Plutarch with a DNA-tailored virus in 2370, and for the theft of Plasma Plague samples from the Darwin Genetic Research Station on Gagarin IV in 2372."

He continued to regard them. "How have they managed to evade the authorities to arrive on a Starfleet facility?"

"Official records appear to have been altered, possibly with a hidden masking virus during a routine Intelligence updates."

He looked to the Nova Roman. "And where did you find the unexpurgated data?"

Salvo faced him. "I have contacts in Klingon Intelligence; they're less likely to receive official SI updates."

"Did you have to pay for this information?"

Her expression tightened. "Yes, Commodore. I am aware that is not strictly protocol, but I paid for it from my own savings-"

"I don't want to see you do that again."

Her face flushed. "I understand, Sir."

Until he continued with, "Because from now on, the funds will come from a station account I'll set up."

She blinked. "Sir?"

"It's obvious we can't rely solely on Starfleet resources. I want an information network built up in this sector, from multiple sources, official and unofficial, with cross checks and redundancies to prevent more Masks. I'll also make a call to the Motherworld, and see what the Caitian Secret Service can offer as well. For now, get the information on Fantomax and Orlok to the Katana, they might need it."

Salvo nodded. "Yes, Sir."

She started to depart, but then Hrelle added, "Wait." He rose to his feet, picked up something from his desk and walked around to face her. "Under other circumstances I'd arrange for a celebration to follow for this, but that'll have to wait for a later date. In the meantime..." He opened the object in his paw, a small box, and produced several pips.

She watched him, confused and unsure of what she was seeing, but straightened up formally as he reached up and fixed the pips on her collar. "You've earned these back, Lieutenant Commander." He stepped back and offered his right paw.

Salvo looked as moved as he had ever seen her, swallowing and accepting his paw. "I thank you, Sir. And I swear I will not disappoint you again."

He withdrew his paw and nodded. "Dismissed." As she left, he checked the chronometer; it was late, very late, and he was still expecting a communication with Admiral Rayner to brief her on the incident. His stomach rumbled; the last meal he had was lunch, that lovely pizza, over fifteen hours ago. Sleep had been even more distant.

He needed both.

*