Surefoot 14: Shakedown

Sasha's jaw dropped open. "Stroke off! She's not! You're making this up!"

"Sorry, I'm not."

"Shall?" Giles echoed, bemused, looking between the women. "'Shall'? She's Caitian? Related to you, Counselor?" Then it seemed to finally connect. "That's her, isn't it? The one you-"

"Yes," Sasha snapped, looking appalled, and chagrined, and ready to return to the guest quarters and hide out for a decade or more. "How could Dad bring her onboard? Knowing what happened between us?"

"I don't have the full story, but I'm guessing T'Varik was the one who initiated the appointment, and she wouldn't be aware of your past relationship with C'Rash."

"It probably wouldn't matter to her anyway," Giles muttered, his expression uncomfortable but struggling to overcome it. "She'd just say that it's irrelevant, and that we should just act professionally and ignore the past."

"Yes," Kami agreed. "And you know what? That's very good advice, and I concur with it. You two seem to have worked the incident out between you - unless you're using the guest quarters to just fight, which seems like a waste of time and sweat - and there's no reason why you can't behave professionally with my niece, who will outrank you and probably be too busy getting to grips with her new role onboard. I just didn't want you two to run into her without prior notice."

Sasha considered the words, and finally nodded. "Thanks. You're right, we can act professionally." She looked to Giles. "Right?"

"Mmm? Yes, yes of course. I won't give it a second thought. I haven't done so anyway."

Kami suppressed a smirk at the bald-faced lie he gave - she was certain that he'd given it a lot of thought, especially when he was alone in his own bed - but just nodded politely. "That's good to hear."

*

In his Ready Room on Deck 1 adjacent to the Bridge, Hrelle accessed the origin logs of the final orders received transferring C'Rash to the Surefoot and promoting her, and found that the audit trail did not include T'Varik past her initial request, but ventured through the labyrinth of Starfleet Command bureaucracy.

It piqued his curiosity; it seemed too much of a coincidence that not only another Caitian, but a member of his clan, would be assigned to his ship, and that she would be deserving of a promotion given her alleged chequered record. But as he accessed C'Rash's personnel file and skimmed through the aforementioned reprimands and comments, it dawned on him that the actions had most likely been driven by her former commanding officer, in an effort to get her off his ship and handed over to someone else.

"Thanks a lot," he muttered to no one in particular.

Then he started as his combadge chirped, as if the computer had misunderstood his reason for speaking, and the voice of Gamma Squad Leader Falok spoke. "Pardon the interruption, but we are picking up an automatic distress beacon from a freighter, the SS Carolina."

Hrelle's hackles rose. The Carolina was the freighter attacked by pirates two weeks before, when Lieutenant Neheru was conveying this very ship to Starbase 154, and intercepted to evacuate the crew. "On my way, Mr Falok."

He rose and entered the bridge, watching the young Vulcan rise out of the Captain's chair. "Sir, it appears to be a standard repeating distress signal on a low band, originating 2.3 light years ahead."

From her position at the helm, Cadet Wileve Drill's blue Bolian face darkened. "I thought all the crew was evacuated from her? Why would it be sending a signal now?"

"It's automatic," Cadet Nancy Yeager informed them from the Engineering Station. "Set to activate in the event of a catastrophe that might have killed the crew and prevented them from sending a distress signal themselves."

Hrelle nodded in agreement. "Tactical display of its location."

At the Security and Tactical Station, the Saurian cadet Orogg called up an image on the main viewscreen, replacing the starfield with a graphic dominated by a large black amorphous mass. "The Carolina's signal is originating from the edge of a Class-4 dark matter nebula." His salmon-pink skin flushed as he extended his elongated neck a little further. "It is a ten-cubic-light-year nebula listed as a Medium-threat navigational hazard, something pirates will often exploit because of the difficulty in using sensors, shields and weapons targeting within and surrounding their proximity."

Hrelle nodded again. "They probably left the Carolina there after stripping it. Helm, set a course for the freighter, Warp 6, engage when ready. Mr Falok, send a message to Starfleet Command, update them on the situation, and that if it's still spaceworthy, we'll set the Carolina on autopilot and send it back to Starbase 154. Think your squad is up for an Away mission over to it to make the assessment?"

"We are indeed, Sir."

But then from her station, Yeager muttered, "How exciting."

It was just loud enough for Hrelle to pick up - and a look at Falok confirmed that the Vulcan had heard it too. Immediately Hrelle countered with, "On second thought, Mr Falok, it sounds like your squad would rather stay onboard and finish your shift in peace. Contact Mr Naavos and inform him that Epsilon Squad will go on the Away Mission, and you will brief them."

Falok controlled his visible disappointment admirably - at least to someone whose senses couldn't pick up the signs. The others on Gamma Squad, however, made no effort to shoot daggers in Nancy's direction.

*

Lt. Neheru had optimised the delay outside the quarters of the new Chief of Security, when she did not answer his hails, before tapping his combadge. "Lt. Shall, this is Lt. Neheru. I am outside your quarters, waiting to take you on a tour of our vessel. Please respond."

When she didn't, he repeated it twice, and then considered the appropriate protocols, before asking, "Computer: where is Lt. Shall?"

"Lt. Shall is in the Security Bay."

He straightened up further and proceeded, concerned that there had been some miscommunication involved, and additionally concerned that there was some malfunction in the combadge system that prevented her from responding.

*

Cadet Neraxis Nemm had been down in the Security Bay, silently racing to reassemble a phaser rifle before her Andorian counterpart, Atiaro Thykrill, did the same on the opposite end of the table. Neraxis had never gotten along with her fellow blue-skinned Security cadet; their temperaments were always too similar, though Neraxis never imagined herself to be as tightass and serious as Thykrill. Recently, however, shared experiences in combat had softened the antagonism between them.

As did a common subject of more than a few attempts on Thykrill's part at small talk. "And how is Jonas Ostrow doing? I do not see him much with Soo lately."

Neraxis glanced up curiously, only for a moment wondering if the question was the start of some taunt between the rival squads. But the Bolian dismissed it almost immediately; ever since Jonas had publicly praised Thykrill's father, a prominent statesman and philosopher on their homeworld, Thykrill had been protective of Jonas - at one point literally, when the cadets faced their Ferasan counterparts in order to save Captain Hrelle.

At first Neraxis just thought it a means for the Andorian to reclaim honour or some other crap. But the girl proved consistently supportive. "They're not a couple anymore. Friends still, but nothing more."

Thykrill nodded, her antennae turning downward as her eyes focused on a transtator circuit in her hands. "Was a reason given?"

Neraxis paused in her work again, wondering if this was all some ploy to make her slow down so that Thykrill could win the impromptu race to rebuild their respective rifles. "They were okay intellectually and emotionally. It might have been physical."

"Ah," Thykrill nodded. "That makes sense. Rigelian Jelna exofemales have... singular needs I would not expect the average human male to be able to provide. As she is my squadmate, I have seen her naked-"

"Well, I don't know for certain," Neraxis lied. In fact she did know, and it had all come out during the last group Counseling session with Kami, and Jonas had been quite upfront about it, and seemed to be handling it well; he had changed so much to Neraxis since the days when he would blush at even the slightest innuendo, and at one stage was ready to quit Starfleet over an embarrassing incident.

Still, Neraxis was outraged on his behalf, and said as much about the unfairness of a nice guy like Jonas getting dumped because of something he couldn't change. Kami's response had been as measured and sensible as always: "There will always be people for whom something about you is a dealbreaker. It could be the size of your genitals, the colour of your skin, your height, your weight, your hair colour, your laugh, your favourite food, the way you say a certain word. It doesn't make you inadequate or inferior, or the other person unreasonable and demanding. It just makes the two of you incompatible. You just have to remember that statistically, there are innumerable people out there for whom those same features are intensely desirable."

Still, it was said in Group Counseling, and Neraxis was sure that Jonas, for all his confidence, didn't want it spread around the ship the reason for the breakup. "Anyway, it's done."

"So he's free to select another? Someone worthier of him-"

Neraxis set down the rifle parts. "Do you wanna go out with Jonas?"

Thykrill scowled, her blue skin flaring. "Suppose I do, Bolian. So what?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because you... you are like his older sister. It is only right to get your permission. And... to assure you that I would not hurt or humiliate him in any way."

Neraxis leaned back, folded her arms across her chest and regarded her crewmate, almost ready to refuse permission, just to see the look on the Andorian's face.

Instead, she relaxed herself and admitted, "He's a big boy; you don't need to ask me. If you want to ask him out, and he wants to go out, have fun."

Suddenly the door slid open, and a strange uniform Caitian female with dark fur and a short tuft on the top of her head entered, carrying a crate with a dozen beer bottles. "Greetings and salutations." She set the crate down. "I am Lieutenant C'Rash Shall, and for the short time I'll be on your ship, I will be your Chief of Security, so use this time wisely to kiss my tail so I'll leave you some positive feedback on your performance reports. Have some freshly-replicated booze."

Thykrill rose to her feet. "Lieutenant! Forgive us, we were not aware that you would be arriving so soon." The Andorian glanced at Neraxis, silently frowning at her crewmate for not rising in the presence of their superior officer.

Neraxis was too stunned, having recognised the name - and the appearance - as being the Caitian female Sasha said she'd met on their captain's homeworld during Sasha's leave there. Met, and Bumped with. But no, it had to be a coincidence... she rose, as C'Rash stared at her. "Sorry, Ma'am."

"Sorry? For what?" She reached into the crate and extracted a bottle for each of them. "Oh don't worry, I don't stand on ceremony, it never stood on me. So, is it just you two, or will we have to share this beer with others?"

"Others?" Neraxis recovered quickly. "Yes, three other cadets, one from each squad, plus three Security crewman, including Ensign Gorman-"

"Bored now." C'Rash opened the bottles when the cadets made no effort to do so themselves. "Come on, ladies, drink up while it lasts."

Thykrill shot Neraxis a confused, disbelieving look, one Neraxis understood and shared. "Um, Lieutenant, alcohol isn't allowed in the Security Bay, and we're on duty."

C'Rash regarded the Bolian for a heartbeat, before drawing closer, leaning into Neraxis' neck and sniffed, long and slow, before stepping back and smiling. "You know Sasha, don't you?"

Neraxis blinked. "Sasha? Um, yes, she's my squad leader. You, ah, know her?"

C'Rash bared her teeth in the approximation of a grin. "Very much so." She let her tail curl teasingly along Neraxis' leg. "Oh, the things I could tell you."

Then the door slid open again, as Lt. Neheru entered, dipping his head beneath the doorway and straightening up again as he regarded the Caitian, the cadets... and the alcohol on the table next to the partly-assembled phaser rifles. "Excuse me, Lieutenant C'Rash? I am Lieutenant Neheru, Second Officer and Chief of Operations. We were supposed to meet for a tour of our ship."

C'Rash drank from her own bottle. "I know, but I thought it'd be a waste of our time. I did find the Lounge, and the replicators-"

"So I see. Alcohol is not permitted in the Security Bay-"

"It's a special occasion. Come on, Neheru, put your hooves up and share a beer with us-"

"Absolutely not!" He glanced at the cadets. "And I am shocked that you two would participate in such a flagrant disregard of regulations!"

Neraxis felt her stomach drop - not a small feat, given her people's digestive capacities - knowing that their new Ops Chief was correct, that she'd even pointed it out, but-

"Hey, hey, hey," C'Rash stepped in, glaring at the Kelpien. "Don't blame them! I just opened those beers for them, if you look at the bottles you can see they haven't even been touched! In fact, they were the ones who pointed out the regulations to me!"

Neheru did indeed examine the bottles - for such a passive-seeming character, he was as relentless and meticulous as any Security instructor Neraxis knew at the Academy - before focusing on the Caitian. "You should know better, Lieutenant. I am frankly shocked at this! You realise I must report this, don't you?"

Crash shrugged. "Do what you must, Daddy Long Legs." She drank from her bottle and made smacking sounds. "We all do what we must."

*

The dark matter nebula filled the bridge viewscreen - not that one could tell, not until Mr Falok helpfully adjusted the view to provide colour to illustrate the borders and density of the phenomenon. But there was no sign of the Carolina.

"I'm picking up a slight ion trail," Nancy announced. "A similar intermix ratio that you'd expect from a freighter of the Carolina's age and class. The trail leads into the nebula. I should be able to track it for a short distance inside, Sir."

Hrelle smiled to himself; Nancy had practically been bursting to try and make up for her earlier blunder. As it happened, he doubted if their scanners would function more than fifty metres in any direction once they were in the thick of that thing, but he decided to humour her. "Good work, Crewman Yeager. Helm, follow the trail inside, using manoeuvring thrusters only... We don't want to bump into her inside and scrape the paint on our new ship."

"Aye, Sir."

Hrelle watched the gradual approach of the Surefoot to the nebula... and felt his hackles rise. He had no exigent reason to be apprehensive, but now he glanced over his shoulder. "Mr Falok... take us to Yellow Alert, have senior bridge officers report immediately." Louder now, for the benefit of the rest of his squad, he added, "This is not a reflection on any of you; your performance is more than satisfactory. But something's wrong..."

Moments later, he turned in his chair to see T'Varik, Velkovsky, Neheru - and C'Rash - step out, all of them assuming their usual positions with the cadets moving to auxiliary stations, except for T'Varik, who stepped down to stand beside his chair. "Sir?"

"The Carolina's signal was picked up in this immediate area, but as we arrived, she appears to have conveniently entered the nebula."

"Your tone suggests incredulity, Sir."

"I have no logical reason to be suspicious. I was hoping for a more rational second opinion."

As the ship entered the nebula, feeling a slight resistance to the greater density within, T'Varik glanced at the viewscreen, eyes scanning the adjoining tactical data, her brow furrowed before she finally replied. "The density of this particular nebula, lacking any perceived gravimetric eddies, would make the likelihood of a vessel, abandoned and depowered, drifting into its event horizon rather than simply bouncing off, unlikely."

Hrelle nodded, smiling. "Good. I like it when the both of us agree on something. Which reminds me, Kami and I wanted to talk to you about the cub-"

"Captain!" Velkovsky snapped. "Proximity alert, vessel thirty metres away at Mark 0-0-1! Taking evasive-"

For a second, Hrelle felt something strike the ship.

Then the Seven Hells opened up.

The air itself seemed to boil and churn, and a noise like a thousand klaxons pierced his skull, setting his blood on fire and sending him out of his chair and to the floor. Distantly he felt T'Varik collapse beside him, spasming - as he was doing. His limbs wouldn't work, and his insides were writhing like snakes. His eyes and ears and nose filled with horrific phantasms, and he could swear he felt ghost beetles crawl over his fur and burrow into his flesh, as the Great Mother whispered in his ear about how unworthy a father he was and would be.

But then the entire ship lurched in reverse, and he rolled forward and smacked his head against the toppled helm chair. His head rang, but the other nightmares were dissipating, and he forced his limbs to work, rising to all fours, and then back to very unsteady feet. He glanced around: the bridge crew were all on the floor, some having vomited over themselves or onto the adjacent floor, and his nose told him that for a couple of them, the bodily evacuations extended to their bladder and/or bowels. A moment later, he realised he was one of them; so much for that New Ship Smell.

He nearly fell over to check the helm, confirming what the viewscreen had told him: that Velkovsky had somehow managed to get them out of the nebula and whatever that effect was. Soon, the sounds of the Red Alert klaxon and the moans and curses of the people around him dominated his hearing, and he started helping his crew back into their station chairs. "Cancel Red Alert. Tactical, keep watch on that nebula; if anything, anything at all, comes out, target and fire. Ops, initiate Emergency Medical and Damage Control Protocols."

A shaken Neheru nodded. "Already on it, Sir."

Hrelle nodded at nothing in particular, glancing at his First Officer. "You okay?"

T'Varik swallowed and visibly struggled to regain composure. "Some sort of attack on sonic and subsonic levels..."

"You and I got the worst of it, with our hearing..." Louder now, he ordered, "Gamma Squad, get to your quarters, get changed and clean up and get back to relieve the senior officers."

"Sir," Falok began, trying his best to straighten up. "That- That will not be necessary. My squad will not leave their posts to-"

"Mr Falok, my senses tell me that half of us have vomited, peed or defected ourselves because of that attack - myself included, so don't feel special about it. This is no time for bravado or coyness. Now get going, and be quick, so your older and more decrepit crewmates can do the same, and before my nose divorces itself from the rest of my body."

As the cadets reluctantly departed, Hrelle turned to Neheru. "Damage report."

The Kelpien's threat tendrils were on full extension from the back of his head, fluttering madly even as his voice sounded composed. "Some external impact damage on the fore-starboard bulkhead... slight damage near Cargo Bay 1, as if by some sort of cutter beam... and strangely enough, glass and crystal objects throughout the ship appear to have shattered."

"Not that strange," Hrelle muttered, his skin still crawling from the subsonic waves that had battered him. "What about the crew?"

"Initial medical reports indicate shipwide instances of varying levels of symptoms, from migraines, nausea, dizziness, to debilitating feelings of dread and anxiety, to supernatural hallucinations to the, ah, loss of various bodily functions. No casualties."