Surefoot 84: Duel

Ben rose up on his hind legs, his whiskers twitching. "Such loyalty. How you bipeds have managed to survive until now is beyond us."

"Petulance ill-becomes you, Rodent."

Fantomax tuned them out. Perhaps they should give themselves up... and she could confess to her participation in the crimes on Salem One, in exchange for protection from the wrath of Zorin and the Bel-Zon? No doubt she would still serve time, but then she thought of the decades she had spent getting away with so many crimes?

She glanced up at the viewscreen, seeing the edges of a crimson nebula, identified as the Deertail Cloud, and according to the surrounding Starfleet beacons, a navigational hazard. It reminded her of the time she stole the Sceptre of the Royal Family of Luria, and hid from the local authorities in the neighbouring Ionite Nebula, taking advantage of the sensor interference.

"Parker," she announced. "Ignore the navigational hazard beacons and take us further into this cloud. We may not be able to run from Starfleet - or our employers - but we don't have to make it easy for either of them."

*

An alert prompted ears on the Katana Bridge to turn to the Ops station, as Mori announced, "Captain! Incoming audio message from Salem One!"

Sasha watched Weynik tense, before he responded, "Let's hear it."

She leaned forward as her father's voice filled the air, albeit with a taut tone that made her own body stiffen. "Captain Weynik, we have just confirmed that the principal mission of the attackers on Station Salem One was not assassination or sabotage, but theft of classified data concerning this sector, this station, and the ships, crews... and family members... assigned to these.

Under my personal authority as Commanding Officer of this sector, I am invoking Starfleet Security Directive 27: you are hereby ordered to take any and all steps necessary to prevent the stolen data from leaving this sector. These steps include, if required, the destruction of the attackers' vessel, those onboard, and any associates or interlopers.

Rules of Engagement have been rescinded for the duration of your mission.

Signed, Commodore Esek Hrelle, Station Salem One."

The breath caught in her throat; her father had publicly and officially given them execution orders... if it came to that.

She looked to Weynik again, who now looked back, nodding once before ordering, "Lt Mori, acknowledge receipt of our orders and inform Salem One we will be incommunicado for the duration."

*

Milady, the Katana is rapidly approaching.

Fantomax started; Parker's announcement came to her, not over the loudspeaker like before, but from her subdermal implant, heard only by her. She glanced casually behind her; Orlok was busy scanning the data they had acquired, as if they weren't in imminent danger of capture or worse, and the Rat Pack were scattered.

You can type in your answers without them knowing, Milady, Parker added.

She turned forward again, as if studying the cloud they were approaching, her fingers moving deftly over the keypad. WHAT ARE YOU DOING, PARKER?

Offering you an opportunity to converse discreetly. You need to surrender to Starfleet.

SURRENDER? SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE IMPRISONED? WHY WOULD YOU SUGGEST THAT?

Because my priority is to preserve your life, Milady. You have a better chance of survival with Starfleet than you would remaining with our erstwhile allies. I can feign our continued escape, but in fact turn us back to the approaching vessel so as not to alert Orlok or the Pack. Or... if you think it would be more efficacious for me to eliminate them-

NO. I'VE SEEN MORE THAN ENOUGH DEATH. AIDED AND ABETTED IN IT. WHAT ABOUT YOU? WHAT WILL YOU DO?

I will stop in the path of the Starfleet vessel and power down. Then I will purge my memory; it holds too much incriminating evidence against you. He paused, adding, Milady, incarceration is preferable to being crushed in some random gravimetric eddy in this cloud... or from betrayal from the Bel-Zon."

Fantomax stared blankly ahead. So this was it. And Parker was right; whatever their authoritarian predilections, Starfleet will be honourable.

YOU HAVE BEEN THE MOST FAITHFUL COMPANION AN OLD WOMAN COULD EVER HOPE FOR, PARKER. THANK YOU, FOR EVERYTHING.

It has been an honour, a pleasure and a privilege to serve you, Milady.

*

"Approaching the Thunderbird One," Lt Grel reported from the Helm, his Tellarite hooves tapping lightly on the console. "They've stopped and turned to face us!"

"They're giving up?" Sasha asked.

"Let's find out," Weynik responded, "Drop us out of warp, Mr Grel. Ms Hrelle, on reaching transporter range, beam over all lifeforms straight into the Brig, no warning. Mr Jor-Dakk, prepare an Away Team to beam over and secure that vessel, in preparation for tractoring it back to Salem One."

Sasha breathed out. "What a relief: a mission that didn't end in bloodshed."

Her captain remained taut as a wire. "It hasn't ended yet, Number One."

*

Orlok faced forward. "What is happening?" She strode forward, examining the stations and looking upwards. "We have turned around, we are facing the Starfleet vessel! But the readings state we are continuing into the Cloud!"

Fantomax rose to her feet to face the Vulcan. "You can drop the pretence, Parker. You are correct, Doctor; we're surrendering. I'm willing to face justice for my crimes."

"I'm not!" She reached for the human.

"Touch her and I'll beam you into space," Parker warned.

Orlok stopped, still glaring with taut fury. "Even beyond my complicity with the deaths on Salem One, I have warrants for my arrest for mass murder! Illegal experimentation! I will spend the rest of my life in a Federation penal colony! Away from my projects! What do you expect me to do?"

"I recommend taking a job in the prison kitchen, you can be guaranteed a decent meal free of bodily waste products."

"What about us?" Both women turned to the Rat Pack, all collected together again, Ben at the forefront as he continued. "We just want a home for ourselves, away from you gigantic bipeds!"

Fantomax looked at them with some sympathy. "No one knows about you. Hide yourselves, your abilities and intelligence, and you can make your way onto another starship. The Galaxy is a big place."

"Not for me," Orlok countered coldly, clearly wanting to grab Fantomax but still aware of the computer's warning. "And not for you either, if you betray the Bel-Zon. They will kill you... or order one of us to kill you."

"No one is killing anyone here!" Parker exclaimed.

*

Kazan 's jaw tightened with anticipation as they continued their approach of the Katana. Perfect. So many weapons at their disposal: phaser cannons, photon torpedoes, quantum torpedoes, subspace mines, the Hell Bomb... their Special Operative in Shuttlebay 1... though even he was unsure about unleashing that last one. What would he use?

Maybe them all?

This was meant to be a shakedown cruise, after all.

*

"Weapons status?" Weynik asked, watching as the Thunderbird One filled up more of the viewscreen on their approach.

"Phasers," Jor-Dakk responded in his typical laconicity. "Inactive."

"Any other vessels in the immediate area?"

"None."

The Roylan nodded. "Well, Number One, perhaps you were right to be optimistic after all-"

Then Sasha exclaimed, "Captain! Vessel decloaking off the starboard bow! I'm raising shields!"

*

Kazan's iron gaze stayed fixed on the Sabre-class vessel rapidly filling up the viewscreen, as the Molotok dropped its recently-acquired Romulan cloaking device.

"They're raising shields!" Hope, his man at Tactical, reported.

"It won't make a difference," Kazan reassured them.

It's Hammer Time... "FIRE!"

*

The Defiant-class vessel unleashed its phaser pulse cannons, the volley of destructive energy, striking the Katana's shields and making it spin away.

Within, the Red Alert klaxon reflected the chaos on the Bridge, as the attack momentarily overwhelmed the inertial dampeners and gravity plating, sending those unprepared for the reaction sprawling to the floor.

Weynik was ready; his experience, and his Heavyworld centre of gravity, kept him in place, as he saw the attacking vessel move offscreen - Bloody Hemra, that couldn't have been what it looked like - and called out, "Evasive Pattern Beta One!"

Beside him, Sasha worked furiously at her station. "Shields down to 30%, warp drive down, rerouting remaining power to impulse engines and weapons-"

"Helm, Attack Pattern Beta One! Tactical, lock phasers on that vessel, fire when ready!" For all the good that will do.

As his crew returned to action, Sasha added, "Having trouble with dorsal shields! Forward shields are currently the strongest!"

"You heard the lady!" Weynik barked. "Take us in, full ahead!"

Grel, his boots pressed hard against the base of the Helm to keep him in place, pounded his hooves against the station to comply.

Weynik looked up to see their opponent once more onscreen, confirming his worst fears: a Defiant-class vessel, like his last command, the Ajax. One of the most powerful starship designs Starfleet ever created.

Sweet Bloody Fucking Hemra... "Phasers and torpedoes, FIRE!"

*

The Katana drove forward, phaser beams and torpedoes jumping forward, striking the shields of the Molotek.

With little apparent effect.

*

From the Thunderbird One, all eyes turned to the battle, Parker reporting, "That appears to be another Starfleet vessel: its configuration, energy signature-"

"It was," Fantomax surmised, surprised at how... disappointed... she felt at the prospect of not surrendering to the authorities. "It's property of the Bel-Zon now... and appears far more powerful than our pursuers. Parker, continue on our original course to Elba II."

"It will take a few moments to power up the warp core again, Milady."

"Do it."

As the ship began powering up again and veering off, Orlok looked accusingly at her now. "So, you've decided to remain loyal after all?"

The elderly thief crossed her arms. "Don't pretend that you wouldn't betray the Bel-Zon, the rest of us, if it served your purposes. You'd do it without a second thought."

"Or even a first," Ben added.

The Vulcan glanced between the two of them, clearly more relaxed now following this reversal of fortune, before finally deciding, "I am retiring to my quarters to begin analysing the Caitian genome data we've collected, in preparation for my expected role in the next phase of Mr Zorin's plans."

She left without another word.

Ben crawled up onto the unoccupied copilot's seat. "And she calls me vermin."

*

Weynik watched the other ship bear straight down upon them, resisting the Katana's attack and not even bothering to fire back again. Just showing off, huh? "Helm! Attack Pattern Gamma-One, keep it tight! Tactical! Ready aft volley, quantum torpedoes!"

They drew closer, faster, Weynik wanting them to think they were being scared or reckless- getting too close-

At the seeming last possible second, Grel dipped them below the other ship, feeling like they were only metres apart, before flying away, Weynik ordering, "Now, Jor-Dakk!"

The Brikari Security Officer complied, firing three torpedoes, a trio of electric-blue packets of doom towards the other ship's impulse engines, where Weynik suspected - well, hoped - the shield strength would be at its weakest.

The viewscreen momentarily switched to an aft view, watching the torpedoes strike, momentarily bringing down the shields and triggering a temporary shutdown of their impulse engines. "Hard about! We strike again while their impulse engines are disabled!"

*

"Propulsion offline!" Traxin reported anxiously. "Warp and impulse! And we've lost Phaser and Torpedo control! We're helpless!"

Kazan examined their axis against the trajectory of the Katana as it was returning for the kill. Not as far away as he would have liked, but needs must... "Divert all power to the shields. I'm launching the Nine-Killer. "

He ignored the reactions of those around him to his announcement as he keyed in the necessary command codes onto his chair panel.

The Shuttlebay 1 hatch on the dorsal side of the Molotok slid open, and a cradle of nine missiles in a cradle dropped out, the missiles launching in an expanding pattern in the direction of the Katana.

Kazan watched them veer out. Fortune Favours the Ruthless...

*

The Katana nearly spun in place on its own axis as it returned towards the enemy ship, which was now listing out of control, even as the enemy launched... something...

Sasha looked up in terror. "Isolytic elements detected! Warp us out of here, Grel!"

"No!" Weynik countered, almost simultaneously. "Impulse only! Full Impul-"

*

The objects detonated in the space between the two vessels.

Nightmare blossomed.

Space and time broke and twisted and compressed and split and combined and shifted and reversed and distorted and kaleidoscoped and coalesced and consumed.

And grew.

And grew.

And grew.

*

Weynik could swear he heard the bulkhead scream around him, even over the Red Alert.

Still, as he stared at the Abyss that was reaching out to them like the hand of some God of Disorder, he called out, "Helm! Reverse Full Impulse!"

"We're there already, Sir!" Grel called back.

"Some sort of subspace rupture!" Sasha reported. "Gravimetric shears- Critical stress- it's catching up with us!"

The viewscreen, the lights around them went dead.

Yes, this was it...

"We have to go to warp!" she declared.

"No!" Weynik responded. "Eject the warp core! It's drawn to it like a magnet! Hurry!"

"Ejecting!" Sasha updated. "It's being pulled into the rupture!"

Which means there'll be a shockwave... "Cut impulse! Divert all power to the shields!"

He hoped someone heard him.

If they were alive in the next minute, he supposed that they-

The Katana lurched hard to one side, as the shockwave sent them tumbling like a stone skipped across a pond, and his crew struggled to sit or stand. They were out of control.

Time to get back some of it... "Helm! One-tenth impulse power, no more than that, adjust port and starboard thrusters as necessary to stabilise us!"

Beside him, Sasha was moving over her own controls. "Reconfiguring the shield shape... flattening and adding stabiliser fins, like a boat or a surfboard..."

"Cowabunga," Weynik muttered.

Then he felt their ship begin to centre and right itself. Weynik rose to survey the Bridge crew, watching with approval as they assisted each other in righting chairs and themselves and returning to their posts amidst the clatter of damage reports and the Red Alert klaxon. "Cut the alarm but maintain Red Alert, Sasha... anyone need Sickbay?" He watched Mori move quickly around, as the klaxon ended. When everyone appeared to be suffering from nothing more serious, he added, "Maintain our present position, keep those shields up until our sensors and weapons are back online, initiate damage control protocols. I want a briefing in thirty minutes."

Sasha nodded at him. "I'll inform all Department Heads."

He nodded back, but then annexed with a sharp, "We don't need the Counselor!"

She regarded him for a second, before replying, "Aye, Sir. You want to go have a check on Ajax? Maybe one of you can have a biscuit and a belly rub?"

Weynik glared at her for a moment, before leaving.

*

The Bridge of the Molotok was cramped, Spartan; even discounting the modifications the Bel-Zon had made to this one after it was found and salvaged, the Defiant-class line was designed for combat, not comfort.

Which suited Kazan. He was no soft Starfleet officer demanding carpets and paintings and fish tanks in his Ready Room.

He had almost been flung from his chair in the centre when the Nine-Killer detonated. Fortunately, his Helmsman had the discipline to follow his orders and ride the shockwave backwards instead of warping away, using their remaining shields like a surfboard and minimising damage as much as possible.

Still, the Bridge was almost black, with only the crimson Red Alert lighting strip circling overhead, and various stations still functioning, while the rest of the Bridge crew fared worse, sprawled on the floor by their respective stations.

Kazan rose to his feet and roughly helped them back up to their seats. "Crosby! Restore power and propulsion! Traxin, get me eyes on the Fleeters! Hope, we need weapons back online! Danetha, the Cloak!" He drew up to Vargas, returning her to the Helm but noting the heavy gash on her temple. "You did well. Can you still function?"

Vargas, a broad-framed, middle-aged Terran brunette with a snub nose and spade jaw, grunted as she wiped the blood from her right eye socket. "Watch me, Captain."

He patted her appreciatively on the shoulder - he expected no less from one of the Highwayman's best pilots - as the lights returned, and he saw the extent of the damage at several stations. "Traxin! The sensors!"

"I'm on it, Captain! But the Nine-Killer-"

"I want results, Bolian, not excuses!" Now Kazan returned to the Captain's chair, sitting down and accessing the status panels on either side: warp drive was down, but that didn't matter now, since the aftereffects of the Nine-Killer would make warp speed, subspace communications, sensors and transporters dangerous or impossible to use for the next several hours.

He checked the rest of the damage they received: ruptures on Deck 5 adjacent to Shuttlebay 1, the landing struts were fused, and both aft torpedo magazines were damaged when the Katana's torpedoes took out their impulse engines.

Well played on that one, Captain Weynik. Enjoy your meagre victory while it lasts. "Traxin, I want eyes out there, now, or I swear I'll take yours-"

The viewscreen came to life... revealing a shimmering, coruscating mass, as if part of the Deertail Cloud had caught fire. Perhaps it had; he guessed the makers of the Nine-Killer, like the creators of all weapons of mass destruction, never fully understood or appreciated what they had produced.

"The rift is gone," Traxin surmised. "It must have eaten the Fleeters."

"No," Kazan growled. "It was robbed of the chance to destroy the Katana. We will not be!"

*

The Thunderbird One was literally jumping to warpspeed, when it abruptly dropped out again, shaking violently as if attacked. Fantomax looked up in alarm. "Parker, what's happened? Is it Starfleet?"

"No, Milady: the other vessel launched some sort of weapon that triggered a subspace shockwave that has affected real space. If we try to go warp, or even high impulse, the results could be... unfortunate."

Weynik stared at the visual of the Katana's port nacelle, half of it missing just below where the emergency plasma vents. Now the plasma haemorrhaged unchecked, like the stump of a severed limb, bringing back unwanted memories of his own critical injuries on the Ajax. Only this time, you didn't need Lt Cmdr Giraffeski to use her Kaetini blade.