Surefoot 88: Arcana

Weynik stopped, spun in place and pointed his phaser rifle at Robins. "Drop your weapon."

Robins frowned at him, looking confused, afraid. "Sir? What are you doing? You're scaring me, Sir-"

"Shut up!" Never taking his eyes off him, Weynik tapped his combadge. "Ops! The intruder's in Cargo Bay 11-3, disguised as Crewman Robins! I have him covered!"

"Bet you don't," he suddenly countered, smiling.

"Stand by, Captain," Sternhagen's voice responded, "We're sending reinforcements."

"Take your time, Katherine," the imposter taunted in a mocking sing-song voice.

"Shut up!" Weynik gripped his rifle more as if for dear life, his heart pounding. "I said drop the weapon! And the disguise! NOW!"

Robins let go of the phaser - it vanished before it hit the ground - and raised his hands up slowly, his eyes wide... as his features, his clothes, everything about him morphed... into a tall, beautiful, dark-skinned human in black and gold leathers and a cape, her voice silken. "Indulge me, Captain... Tell me where I slipped up. Enquiring minds want to know."

Weynik grunted. "You mentioned playing mind games with Lt Cmdr Hrelle. No one outside the senior staff knew about that... except for the Imposter, of course. Your lack of warm breath in here clinched it."

The imposter snapped her fingers, like some character in a hack mystery having been caught out by the detective. "Of course! And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!"

"Where's the real Crewman Robins?"

Her mouth curved downwards in a mockery of sorrow. "Oh, yes, poor Jayden. It seems the ghosts of his family visited him during the night and blamed him for their deaths during the War, convincing him that the only way to make amends was to join them. He's still in his quarters now." She shook her head. "I don't think he'll be going back on duty anytime soon."

Weynik ground his teeth in fury. "Who are you?"

"I'm anyone you want me to be." She morphed into a terribly familiar image: another Roylan, a female, in a Starfleet uniform. "Even your late wife Fala. Miss me, Weynik? How dare you continue to remain in Starfleet, and risk leaving our children without any parents? Have you no decency?"

He froze, stunned at seeing the metamorphosis before his eyes. It looked so much, so very much, like Fala. Sweet Bloody Hemra...

Then he quickly recovered. "Nice try. But they're my children. I birthed them, not Fala. She never knew them, had nothing to do with them. So... you're not infallible, are you?"

He fired.

The beam went through the image of Fala. She vanished.

He froze in place, staring at where the imposter had stood, until his combadge chirped again, and Sternhagen's voice ordered, "Captain, report!"

He finally responded. "The imposter's gone. And it's definitely not a Dominion Changeling."

*

In Ops, Sternhagen nursed another coffee, watching the Horta Science Officer Stalac sitting like a fused-together pile of coal and assorted minerals on the square metal plating of his interface to the network, adeptly monitoring and analysing multiple systems as the Sweep continued, as his efforts displaying in dizzying rows of data and images on screens overhead for the benefit of the fragile carbon-based lifeforms he worked with. You've an amazing body, Rocky: strong, durable, free of muscular aches and pains and fading eyesight and memory. I'd take a body like yours any day, as long as someone could be around to scratch my ass.

She saw Hrelle nearby, conversing with his human daughter and his Orion almost-daughter in the implementation of their own plans, while Somerset monitored Stalac's output with the Sweeps, and Haluk...

She approached the Vulcan. "Coffee?"

He stared in the direction of a wall. "No thank you."

"So, what do you think? A painting, or maybe a mural?"

He turned to her. "Excuse me?"

She indicated where he was looking. "I was assuming that you were considering some decorating tips for us."

"I was not."

She held up her mug. "Coffee?"

"My declination has not changed since you asked 14.6 seconds ago."

Sternhagen smirked. "Probably for the best to keep the caffeine from you; you're already wound up tighter than Dick's Hatband."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I am unfamiliar with that person, but I suggest he revisit his milliner." He raised his chin now. "Is there a reason you've approached me?"

She paused to sip, before replying, "You look guilty."

"Guilty?"

She nodded. "Like when my ex-husband left the back gate open and our dog escaped to chase after the neighbourhood cats and squirrels for the afternoon."

Haluk's gaze narrowed. "You believe I should feel responsible for Cadet Boladede's actions against Counselor Hrelle, as he was under my authority?"

"Me? No. But that doesn't mean you don't feel that."

"You are correct. And I do."

Sternhagen blinked. "Really? I was expecting some logic-spouting Vulcan bullshit denial."

He breathed in, subtly composing himself - and turning so that he faced her fully, and away from everyone else present. His voice dropped to a confidential whisper. "We have no bulls on Vulcan to produce faeces... but I believe I am too old to deny my capacity for emotion, however irrational. I recall my last meeting with Counselor Hrelle, after administering Boladede's punishment, and a self-aggrandising joke I made about my success at producing cadets of such high calibre. Had I known then that he would react in such a way-"

"And if a frog had wings, it wouldn't bruise its ass hopping around all day."

"That... is undeniable."

She sighed, sipping at her coffee again. "Twelve years ago, I let what appeared to be a Vulcan freighter, one that claimed to have critically-injured crew from a pirate attack get close enough to transmit stolen command codes that led the former incarnation of the Bel-Zon sweep in, steal a consignment of trilithium resin other valuables, and along the way kill several of my people... including Commodore Hrelle's first wife. Had I been more by the book, more careful, I could have kept them at a distance until I awaited a response from Hrelle on the Furyk... which by this time had been destroyed and Hrelle captured and tortured for those command codes."

Haluk regarded her. "I was aware of the Commodore's past at this station, but not of those specifics involving yourself. But you can hardly blame yourself for what happened."

"Well, I did, and quit for several years and exiled myself to that little mining colony on Scesity. Then Papa Cat pulled me back in, reminded me that if we knew everything that could happen, we'd be Gods and not who we are... and he said he didn't blame me for losing his wife. I'm sure he'd say the same to you, if you asked him."

He appeared almost at a loss for words, finally settling for, "Thank you."

She shrugged, holding up her mug again. "Coffee?"

Suddenly Stalac broke through the moment between them. "Security Alert!"

As Sternhagen and Haluk approached, the young Horta piped in Weynik's alert. "Ops! The intruder's in Cargo Bay 11-3, disguised as Crewman Robins! I have him covered!"

"Bet you don't," responded another voice near him.

"Stand by, Captain," Sternhagen responded, "We're sending reinforcements."

"Take your time, Katherine," the other voice taunted in a mocking sing-song voice.

She ignored it, and the chill its casual tone gave her. "Mr Stalac, focus on nearby personnel onto that location."

"I have, Ma'am... and I have a report from Crewman Robins' quarters. He's reported deceased, from self-inflicted injuries."

Her jaw tightened, and she flung aside her mug, letting it shatter against the nearest wall. She leaned in. "Captain, report!"

Weynik finally responded. "The imposter's gone. And it's definitely not a Dominion Changeling."

She looked at Haluk, before turning back to Stalac. "Those sensor modifications you did to track the Orion signal - can you redirect them to the Cargo Bay? Give us some clue as to what we're facing?"

*

Urad Kaldron entered his family's guest quarters, his mother rising and approaching, as his siblings flanked her. "Son, what is happening? Do you need our help?"

He raised a hand to her to cut her off. "Thank you but no, Mother. I have come to inform you that I am about to join a rescue mission off-station. My good friend Comrade Lieutenant Zir Dassene's family is being held hostage by Orions. I have been asked to accompany and assist."

Nanda Kaldron looked at him with concern. "Are you... are you sure you're ready to face the challenge?"

He breathed in, admitting truthfully, "Not... entirely, Mother. I didn't know that first time I tried bodysurfing at Chattarak Beach, if I was ready to face the challenge. I drank much seawater, but I quickly found my way."

His brother Turai stepped forward. "We should come with you, watch over you!"

Urad shook his head. "Thank you, Big Brother, but our vessel is small, and it will be crowded enough with my presence alone." He focused on his mother again. "I am sorry, all of you have come such a long way to visit me, and now I feel like I am abandoning you-"

Mother reached out and pulled him into an embrace. "You are not. Go, perform your duty, and we will still be here when you return."

*

Zir entered her quarters, breathed in, counted the seconds. Stay calm, stay calm, you can do this, you can do this...

"Good morning, Lieutenant."

She turned, looking at Surinh Dag's image, standing there looking so smug. "You're very prompt."

"I'm very busy, Lieutenant. What is today's code?"

Stall him, she had been told, as long as possible, in order to trace the transmission. "Not just yet. I need assurances about my family's safety."

He sneered at her. "I can assure you that if you refuse to cooperate, they'll suffer for it! Is that enough, you arrogant little bitch?"

She swallowed letting the fear within her rise to the surface, something she could use. "Please- I beg of you, Sire-"

His dark green lips curled into a half-smile. "'Sire', is it now? You've changed your tune, Starfleet. Not so sanctimonious and superior this morning. Feeling guilty over betraying your oath to the kafirlirs around you?"

"P-Please- if I could have something, anything-"

"On your knees."

She blinked. "What?"

He pointed to the floor of her quarters between them. "You're not begging properly. Get on your knees. Like I'm sure you've done to many a Starfleet male. Maybe even the Beast?"

Zir's stomach twisted, and her expression tightened. Slowly, reluctantly, drawing it out as much out of her genuine chagrin as to draw out their communication, she sank to her knees, looking up at him.

"Very appealing, from my angle. If only I was there in real life to offer you my piece. Now take your combadge off and put it in your hand."

"My combadge? Why?"

He frowned. "If you question me again, I'll cut off one of your little brother's fingers."

Zir trembled, but blindly reached up to her jacket and removed it, feeling the warmth of the metal, the shape of the arrowhead insignia resting on the rectangular frame.

He smiled. "Now spit on it, and throw it away."

She ground her teeth. He was really enjoying this... She worked up some saliva in her mouth, and then spat onto the combadge, before casting it aside. "Is that all you want?"

"No, I was thinking of making you strip and work your little cuksir for me until your hand fell off, but sadly I don't have time for that. So instead, I will graciously offer you a Trader's Deal: continue to provide us with Hrelle's Command Codes each day until we no longer need them, and I will take your family, alive and unharmed, back to Orion, returning them to their lives. What you do after this - follow them home, give yourself up to Starfleet for your treason, kill yourself - is up to you. Will that satisfy you?"

Zir swallowed again. A Trader's Deal was meant to be binding between Orions... but in truth she didn't trust him any further than she could throw him. On the other hand, "Do I have a choice?"

"No. Today's Command Code?"

She stuck out her chin, milking it out a little longer. "Hrelle-Alpha-4-7-7-Delta."

He smiled, holding out his arms as if to embrace her. "You see? Now, will you be a good little girl from now on?"

Her face creased. "Yes."

He kept smiling at her. "Say it fully, so I know you understand."

She swallowed one more time, the words forced from her. "I'll be a good little girl from now on."

"And on that little note of progress, I bid you farewell. If we decide to attack and destroy you today, however, tomorrow will be cancelled."

He disappeared.

She let out the filthiest curse she could muster, before crawling over to where she threw her combadge, wiping the spit from it, fitting it back onto her jacket and smacking it. "Lt Dassene to Lt Cmdr Hrelle: for your sake you'd better have traced that signal."

She expected the Commodore's daughter to respond, even as she regretted her threat - only to hear the Commodore himself. "She's too busy to respond, but she has confirmed the trace was successful, Zir."

She felt her skin turn shades of dark green she never thought possible. "Sir! I didn't mean to sound the way I did to Lt Cmdr Hrelle, I promise you, please apologise to her on my behalf-"

"You can do it yourself, she's ready to launch, so get down here."

Hope lifted her spirits like never before, and she rose back to her feet. "I'm on my way, Sir! Dassene out!" She gathered herself, then looked back at the spot where Surinh Dag's image stood.

I'm coming for my family. And if I can, for you too, you bastard...

*

Hrelle looked back at Sasha and Mru in the cockpit, sensing the continued tension between the couple, but knowing there was simply no time or patience at this stage to help them resolve it... even if he had any right to interfere. Which he didn't.

But the thought of Sasha being a wife, a mother, making him a grandfather, lingered with him. He had already played that role, with Kami's firstborn Mirow and his new cub, Baby Jnill... and he liked it, alot. But he couldn't possibly say anything to influence Sasha one way or another about that, and if he did, Kami would recover enough to kill him. "Who have you selected to accompany you?"

Sasha never looked up from her cockpit controls. "Eydiir, Ensign Emoto, because of her proficiency with analysing alien engineering systems, and Ensign Kaldron."

Hrelle started. "Are you sure about him? He's only just come back on duty."

"I asked him, gave him the opportunity to refuse, he didn't. I think he wants to get away from things around here now."

Hrelle breathed in, looking to argue, but suppressing the urge. "You do whatever it takes to rescue Zir's family... but not at the expense of yourself or your team. Is that clear?"

"Does a chicken have a pecker?"

He smiled. "Good luck. Both of you."

Mru looked up gratefully at him, smiling. "Thank you, Sir."

Hrelle nodded, mouthing Watch over her.

Mru nodded back, as Hrelle departed, out into the cooler air of the Hangar Bay, now unoccupied with the Lockdown continuing. Yes, Esek, ignore the imposter running around and your wife in Hospital and your son possibly traumatised and your Adjutant's family being held hostage, and instead focus on being a grandfather?

"Commodore?"

He turned, seeing Weynik emerge from the nearest turbolift, approaching him rapidly, noting the fear he saw. "Captain?"

"We're in trouble! Deep trouble! I think we're dealing with some super-powered being: a Thasian, a Metron, maybe even an Organian or a Q! We have to contact it, offer terms of surrender before it gets nasty-"

Hrelle kicked the figure in the gut, sending it flying backwards onto the Hangar Bay floor. "There's my terms, fucker."

The figure of Weynik lay there, trying to sit up in pain, clutching its gut. "ARE YOU- ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR BLOODY MIND?"

Hrelle drew his phaser, increasing the setting and moving closer, hackles raised, teeth and claws bared. "Not yet I'm not. What mission did Zorin send you to do here? Murder my wife, my cubs? Me?"

"YOU'RE CRAZY!"

Never taking his eyes off his target, Hrelle tapped his combadge. "Hrelle to Ops: where's Weynik?"

Stalac's voice replied, "He remains in Cargo Bay 11-3, Sir. Do you require him?"

"Stand by," To his target, he growled, "Who are you?"

The image of Weynik shifted, morphed and grew into a standing human figure, the same dark-skinned woman the real Weynik had described when he encountered it. She winced, as if the kick he had delivered had some genuine impact on her, and glared back at him angrily. "The Mesopotamians called me Tiamat. The Egyptians, Apophis. The Greeks, Eris. The Norse called me Loki. The Irish, Balor. The Chinese called me Hundun, the Hindus, Rakshasa.

I am the Gremlin that sat on the plane and brought Nightmares at 40,000 Feet. I am the misheard order that started the War. I am the lost cry for help that doomed the sinking ship."

She began to glow as she raised her arms to him, and the air whipped around her, as if one of the outer doors had opened and the Bay was decompressing.

"I AM DISCORDIA!" she declared. "GODDESS OF CHAOS-"

Hrelle dropped as he felt his fur react to a sudden spike of static electricity in the air, and he ducked and dived as a red plasma bolt struck Discordia, disintegrating her entirely.

The wind died away immediately, and Hrelle returned to his feet to face Sasha, standing there outside the Tailless with a large Caitian plasma cannon cradled in both hands, and an equally-lethal look on her face. "Frick me... did I kill it?"

Hrelle shook his head. "I don't think so. It wasn't corporeal, at least not in the normal sense." He tapped his combadge. "Ops: the Intruder was in Hangar Bay 2! I have more information about it!"

"As have we, Sir," Sternhagen informed him. "You might wish to meet Lord Fauntleroy in the Brig."

*

He strode up to Somerset, alongside Salvo and Doc Masterson, in front of a cell, which contained a human Hrelle recognised as the new owner of the Tarot, standing behind the invisible forcefield, arms crossed, expression defiant. Hrelle's hackles raised. "What have you got?"

"You've got a complaint ready to be sent to your superiors for harassment and illegal confinement, Commodore," the prisoner warned loudly.

Somerset ignored the man and turned to Hrelle. "This is Simon Latrelle, wanted for fraud, corporate espionage, data theft, identity theft, and other types of theft. He was born on New Paris, and is a known associate of Bastien Dumont."

The name made Hrelle tense, remembering his previous encounter with the Bel-Zon leader. "Latrelle's the shapeshifter?"

"In a manner of speaking. He is half-Halanan."

"Never heard of them."

Now Masterson contributed to the conversation, his archaic Wild West accent a contrast to the sophisticated nature of his talk. "Halanans are a humanoid race with psionic abilities, Commodore, which for them principally manifest in something they call psychoprojective telepathy, a form of bilocation where, when they're asleep or unconscious, they can send out into the world solid images of themselves that can act out subconscious desires and personality traits, which the host experiences it as if they're dreaming."

He indicated Latrelle. "Our saloon owner here's Halanan on his mother's side, and has enough of her people's ability to let him pull the same trick... with a few variations."

Hrelle glanced at Latrele, who showed no reaction. "The image I saw was of a woman, not him. Looked a little like him, but-"