Surefoot 27: Oubliette

Sakuth regarded her, before announcing, "You are her current partner. Your tone and body language suggests it."

C'Rash bristled. "Your access on this ship is restricted to the Officers' Mess and Lounge, and the Gym; if you wish a tour, contact our Chief Operations Officer Lieutenant Neheru."

"If you have any desire for achievement in Starfleet," Sakuth suggested. "You would cease your association with her. You will find her limited scope an impediment to advancement-"

"For medical assistance," C'Rash interrupted, "Contact Sickbay." C'Rash bared her teeth. "Perhaps you should shut up and go in now, Captain, before you end up requiring it?"

*

Deck 2 Fore -- Bridge:

"Steady as she goes," Beta Squad Leader Giles Arrington ordered, unable to suppress a smile. He never tired of saying those words; it made him feel so confident, assured, like the Captains of old.

As Rina Chaudri at the Helm acknowledged the order, Giles turned in his seat -- something else he liked about Command -- and looked behind him at Ops. "Any tips on surviving the Final Exams, Lieutenant? Any hints?"

The impossibly tall Kelpien's features creased with amusement, making his tangerine-coloured skeletal head look under pressure. "Take off your footwear before you start the Exam."

"Our footwear?"

Neheru nodded. "Your boots and socks. You can flex your toes and feel the cool floor beneath your feet. Very relaxing."

Giles smirked. "With respect, Sir, how would you know, Sir? Kelpiens have hooves."

Neheru chuckled. "We also have friends and roommates, who have often complained about the stress that seems to collect in their dainty little feet. Now, I know you have to get back to the Exams in twenty minutes, but do you think I could go grab a quick bite to eat first, Ensign?"

Giles grinned now. "Take even longer if you like, Sir."

"Don't sound too eager to see the back of me, Ensign." Neheru straightened up and departed.

Giles could almost feel everyone relaxing a little around him now, as his squad's Science cadet Charlie Ingalls took Neheru's place at Ops, and Giles joked, "So... who wants to see if my Command-level authorisation will let us see the answers to all the exams?" They laughed, Giles following up with, "Anyone heard back yet about their First Assignments?"

Soolamea looked up from Engineering, the Rigellian girl smiling, "I'm joining the California on the Tau Alpha C Expedition. Think of it: a three-year journey out of Federation space..."

Giles smiled. "Congratulations; I've heard a lot about the Expedition. That's gonna be something."

Beta Squad's Andorian Security cadet Atiaro Thykrill glowered. "With the Dominion and the Borg around, here's hoping there's a Federation for you to come back to."

"A ray of sunshine as always," Rina joked. "What about you, Atiaro?"

"The USS Saratoga-A. And what about you, Arrington?"

Giles smirked; Andorians made even the most casual conversations sound like cross-examinations. "Border ship: the Hurricane."

The cadets shot glances at each other.

And Giles noticed. "What? What is it?"

Rina smiled. "Oh, nothing. We just thought- well..."

"You thought what?"

"That you might be following Sasha to Advanced Command School on Vulcan," Soolamea offered.

"I didn't apply for it," Giles admitted. "T'Varik believed my grades, while excellent, didn't-" Then he noticed the sly looks his squad were giving each other. "Oh, right. Because you all think I'm still lovesick for Sash. Very funny."

They all laughed openly, until an alert signal on her board drew back Rina's attention. "There's some sort of disruption, almost dead ahead. Might be just another spatial anomaly, like the ones we left back in the Shangris system."

Giles nodded. "Drop to Warp 5, vector around it." But as he gave the order, he frowned to himself. "Tactical: scan the anomaly."

Thykrill complied, seconds later scowling as well. "Wait... the spatial disruption is clouding our sensors momentarily."

A sudden memory returned to Giles, an informal course in Tactical Command given by Captain Hrelle, where the man detailed threats that employed spatial charges to mask themselves just before attack: Don't fear the Unknown. Just whatever is making the Unknown- "Shields-"

The Ferengi ship appeared on the viewscreen, microseconds before a volley of disruptor fire struck the Surefoot, sending it reeling sharply to port. The Red Alert klaxon sounded automatically as many of the Bridge crew were flung from their seats.

Seconds later, Hrelle and T'Varik emerged from the Ready Room. "Report!"

Giles leapt out of the Command Chair, helping himself up to Ops to support T'Varik. "The Ferengi appeared from a disruption! They used-"

"Spatial charges," Hrelle finished, helping the cadets back into their seats as he checked the tactical readings. "Coordinate damage control, get the shields back online! Helm, drop to impulse, divert warp power to-"

"Captain," T'Varik reported. "The Ferengi have locked onto the Device, attempting to bea-"

Then the Surefoot, and everything around it... vanished...

The ship was buffeted, cadets that had just returned to their seats were thrown from them again, but Hrelle clung to his chair, before rising and reaching for the Helm controls, increasing stabilisers and inertial dampeners until his ship felt more anchored.

Then he looked up, blinking in confusion at what he saw.

The viewscreen seemed to have turned into a kaleidoscope, a turbulent storm of dizzying colours, mostly greens and reds, spinning and mating and colliding, seemingly woven together by energy strands, looking like nothing more than the Mother of All Ion Storms, decorated for a Terran Christmas.

He returned to the here and now, checking the readings for their current location.

No. This isn't right...

T'Varik was speaking over the intercom. "Damage Control to Deck 5 Fore! We have structural damage within Cargo Bay 5, minor damage in adjacent areas! The Device appears to be missing-"

"Casualties?" Hrelle asked, helping Rina back into the Helm seat.

"None reported, Sir, minor injuries only."

"What about the Ferengi?"

"4.5 kilometres, dead astern, with a minimal power signature; they appear damaged, drifting-"

"Keep an eye on them; they make any move, let me know. Atiaro, get phasers and torpedoes online, just in case. Rina, we seem to be caught in some sort of spatial current, see if you can compensate and keep us stationary. Giles, take the Science Station, launch three probes on standard pattern. I want a full scan of... wherever we are."

Giles, looking pale, nodded. "Aye, Sir."

Hrelle took a moment to study the young man's shaken expression, recognising something in it. "Mr Arrington?"

Giles stopped. "Sir?"

The Captain raised his voice, to ensure everyone heard and understood. "This wasn't your fault. It was mine; I underestimated the Ferengis' determination to get what we have. You're not to blame. Got it?"

Giles, shaking and flushed, nodded in appreciation. "Thank you, Sir." Then he continued to the station.

Then Hrelle nodded to T'Varik. "You're in charge, continue with damage control, get our Science and Engineering cadets and any other braniacs onboard together in the Science Lab to collate the probe data; Counselor Hrelle will be coordinating their efforts. I'm going to see Captain Sakuth and get some answers."

*

The Vulcan sat, fingers steepled before her as she listened, before finally rising. "The Ferengi did not beam away the Device. It possessed additional failsafes which I activated upon our arrival on the Surefoot; in the event of an unauthorised transport, it would detonate."

Hrelle's hands were balled into fists. "And you didn't bother telling me this?"

"I judged that you did not have an exigent need to know."

"Well, that worked out well for us, didn't it?" He paced now, stopping and looking back at her again. "Since we're all walking and talking, I can safely assume that your Great Whatsit wasn't some sort of bomb."

"You assume correctly. It was classified by the Shangris Think Tank as a Trajector, designed to open a rift to transport everything within a predetermined spherical radius."

His eyes widened. "Transport to where? I saw the navigational board. There's nothing here! No stellar beacons, no landmarks, no Galactic coordinates, not even a quantum signature! Just a miasma of exotic energy particles!"

Sakuth nodded. "We are in another universe, a particular continuum selected by my think tank after opening up several small, short-duration rifts to study it further."

"That explains all those spatial anomalies we detected in the Shangris system."

"Indeed. This is a proto-universe, without matter, without life, an ideal destination to permanently banish threats such as Borg cubes and Dominion fleets; our Professor Cartier dubbed this realm the Oubliette. And as no loss of life occurs, it does not violate the Khitomer or other accords that prohibit the utilisation of weapons of genocide and mass destruction."

He drew closer, his gaze narrowing even as his heart raced the more he heard. "You're being uncharacteristically forthcoming with this intelligence now, Captain Sakuth. Why?"

"There is no longer any need for further secrecy, Captain Hrelle. The Trajector was designed to open a dimensional rift to the Oubliette, and then self-destruct, leaving nothing of itself to be analysed and adapted by its targets. There is no escape. We will be spending the rest of our lives here. Therefore, security is no longer a consideration."

Hrelle's stomach twisted, and his mouth went dry as his heart raced. Spending the rest of our lives here... "Captain... there are two infants onboard... a group of young cadets just starting out in life..."

Now something like emotion crossed her features. "It is regrettable that circumstances have brought us here, Captain. But I am hardly to blame for the actions of the Ferengi-"

"No, but you're to blame for keeping all your precious little secrets!" He stabbed a clawed finger at her. "You're gonna tell my people everything you know about the Great Whatsit, the Oubliette -- everything! We're gonna find a way back home!"

Sakuth studied him. "The Trajector was designed by some of the most advanced minds in the Federation, far superior to any who might be onboard your vessel, and using materials unavailable to one of your limited resources. You are wasting your time, Captain."

"Well, thanks to you, we now have plenty of time to waste."

Then his combadge chirped. "Captain, this is the Bridge; the Filthy Lucre is sending a distress signal."

"The... what?"

"The name of the Ferengi Marauder, apparently, Sir."

"Oh, really? Stand by, I'll be right up. Hrelle out."

The Vulcan eyed him. "You are not going to assist them, are you? Our resources will be limited in this space-"

"-And therefore we may need what they have onboard their ship to survive. Oh, and it's also the right thing to do. I know you might not recognise something like that while you're hiding behind your cloak and dagger, but it's important to the rest of us. Now, get to our Science Lab, before we run out of food, and you start looking tasty."

*

"What's their status, Mr Neheru?"

The Kelpien straightened up as Hrelle entered. "Their main drive, weapons, power and life support is down, there are multiple hull breaches and their remaining habitable areas are limited. There are twelve Ferengi lifesigns and-" He breathed in. "Captain, I must apologise- I left Ensign Arrington and the cadets for only a few minutes-"

"You're guilty of nothing but bad luck, Lieutenant. Like I told Mr Arrington, the fault lay with me. Now put the Ferengi on."

The image of the Oubliette and the Filthy Lucre mercifully vanished, replaced by the slightly more welcome sight of a cramped, smoke-filled Ferengi Bridge, and a jewelled, furred Ferengi coughing and snarling, "And it's about time! We're dying here, hyoo-man!"

"You need to get your eyesight checked, DaiMon...?"

"Bald!"

Hrelle blinked. "Of course. Well, DaiMon Bald, I'm sorry to keep you waiting. What do you want?"

"Want? We want to be rescued! There are four of us, plus my valuables-"

"We're detecting twelve surviving Ferengi, DaiMon."

Bald sneered. "Those others were too cheap to pay the Rescue Fee! Now beam us over, and then I'll give you the coordinates of my vault-"

Hrelle raised a hand. "We don't have a Rescue Fee, DaiMon. But we do have a Transfer Fee. It's rather steep-"

"What? Anything! I'll pay anything!"

"Music to my ears. You and your crew will face arrest for the attack on Shangris Station and the deaths of its scientists. You'll provide all data you have on who hired you and gave you intelligence on your target. Oh, and you'll turn over your ship and everything on it."

"WHAT? You greedy grimalkin! Mangy tabby! Eat my debts!"

"Fine, I'll wait until you're all dead and legally claim your ship as salvage. In fact, that works out more profitably for me, as I won't be wasting food and air on you. Thanks for the tip! Cheers, Big Ears..." He made a show of reaching for the screen controls.

"Wait!" Bald ground his crooked teeth, coughed again and finally acceded, "I... I accept your terms!"

"Good. Gather your people together, DaiMon. No weapons, none at all -- if we detect any in our transporter beam, we'll just dump all of you into space. Surefoot out."

As the viewscreen blanked, Hrelle turned to C'Rash. "Secure the Emergency Barracks on Deck 4, Full Security detail." He then looked to Grev, who had been summoned to the Bridge. "Get a tractor lock on the vessel -- and work out a Fuel and Power Conservation Protocol. We don't know how long we'll be here."

The gruff Tellarite looked at him with beady black eyes, before nodding. "Aye, Sir."

Now Hrelle turned to Neheru. "Where's Commander T'Varik?"

"She has reported to Sickbay, to begin preparation for the mindmeld with Professor Kessis."

Hrelle nodded. "Coordinate with Chief Grev on the Conservation Protocols. When the prisoners are beamed onboard and secured, have DaiMon Bald escorted to my Ready Room. And have Ensign Hrelle bring my son as well."

"Misha?"

Hrelle smiled. "I might need some muscle in there when I'm interrogating the Ferengi."

*

Outside the ships, red and green energy ribbons swirled and danced, occasionally bouncing off the shields of the Surefoot as if they were fish bumping against the glass walls of their aquarium.

Then the shields dropped long enough to beam in the Ferengi survivors.

And the energy ribbons dipped down, touched and stroked the hull... and slipped inside.

*

Deck 4 Fore -- Auxiliary Sickbay:

Masterson stood a fair distance, halfway turned away as he watched T'Varik adjust the rose-tinted visor that allowed Vulcans to view Medusans without suffering ill effects. "We've equipped you with everything we think you might need in there to deal with electromagnetic-based biology, but if you need anything more, just give us a shout and-"

"Shouting will not be required, Doctor."

"Call me Doc."

"I do not think so."

He chuckled. "You Vulcans never cease to crack me up. Cool as ice water, no matter what. But I do have to ask you-"

"Doctor, I have to mentally prepare for the mindmeld. It requires silence, not flippancy."

He straightened up. "This is a serious matter now. I checked your records; you've added a Euthanasia Declaration in the event of permanent mental incapacity should something go wrong in there."

T'Varik paused. "It seemed logical to prepare for any eventuality. I do not wish to survive if my mental faculties have been destroyed; That is not a quality of life I desire for myself. And it would be better that I make my desires known for the record, rather than leave such a traumatic decision to my family."

Masterson nodded. "And by Family, you mean Captain and Counselor Hrelle, and Lt. Shall? You named them as your Next of Kin. You don't have folks back home?"

Now the Vulcan looked to him. "I have blood relatives, of course. But I have found that I am... closer... to the aforementioned officers onboard this vessel. They are more familiar with me, and more likely to respect my wishes."

Masterson nodded. "Then I'll make sure your wishes are fulfilled. And hope to Hell it doesn't come to that."

"As do I." She slipped the visor onto her face. "Leave now, lock the door."

He tipped his hat to her and departed, the door closing and beeping as the lock was applied.

T'Varik focused on her meditation mantras, acknowledging her fears and moving past them to the task at hand, approaching the container with Professor Kessis, sitting on the operating table, surrounded by esoteric equipment.

When she was ready, she opened the lid. Even with the protective visor, what she saw was...

Beautiful.

Almost too much so.

Her fingertips drew closer to the brilliance, her mind reaching out. Your mind to mine, Professor Kessis...

Outside the Auxiliary Sickbay, Masterson paced, stopping only as he heard a familiar -- and unfamiliar -- voice from his combadge moments later. "The mindmeld is successful, Doctor. We are joined. We must work now. Do not disturb us."

Masterson started to reply, then realised the communication was cut.

*

Deck 2 Fore -- Captain's Ready Room:

Misha sat in Hrelle's lap, grinding happily on a round leather teething toy in his mouth, as his father smiled in approval. "That's it, my Warrior Prince. And what do we do when we see... Ferengi?"

Misha stopped chewing, spitting out the toy to bare his teeth and growl.

"Exactly! Good cub!" He stuck the toy back in and looked up at his other offspring. "How are you doing? Want one of these, too?"

"No thanks. Why am I here? I should be at my station-"

"Captain's Privilege; I want to have my cubs around me. Besides, the senior officers are busy with other things, I need someone to pester." His door chimed. "Enter!"

The door slid open, and DaiMon Bald strode inside, clutching his hand, as C'Rash followed closely behind. "Captain! How dare you treat us like prisoners! And let this creature bite me!" He held up his bloodied appendage.

Hrelle adjusted Misha in his sitting position on his father's lap. "But DaiMon... you are prisoners. That was part of our deal, remember?" He looked to C'Rash. "Why'd you bite him?"

The black-furred Caitian growled. "He touched my breast."

"It's her own fault!" the Ferengi defended. "Letting your females wear clothes that entice men with curiosity! She brought it on herself, the slut!"

Hrelle felt Sasha stiffen with anger beside him, but otherwise gave no reaction. He focused on Bald. "DaiMon... if you or any other member of your crew so much as leers at any of mine, let alone touches them, I'll cut off your lobes and feed them to my son here. He's teething, and would love to chew on one." He looked to Misha. "Well, cub? What do you think about... Ferengi?"

Misha stopped chewing, glared at Bald and growled.

The DaiMon blanched, reaching up instinctively to his ears. "You- You can't- that's horrible! Barbaric!"

"Then I suggest you behave yourself, dickhead," Sasha butted in harshly, "And do what our Captain says, or we'll have your balls as well!"

Bald looked up in shock at her, as did Hrelle, before the Captain took over again. "Who hired you to attack Shangris, DaiMon?"

The Ferengi focused on the Caitian captain behind the desk. "A Cardassian Legate, named Hovat." At Hrelle's reaction he asked, "You've heard of him?"

"Yes." They hadn't met in person, but Hrelle had crossed paths with him several times before: Hovat was his opposite number across the border, a Cardassian Strategic Operations Officer or the closest equivalent, and he was planning something big, though as far as Hrelle knew from the reports from Starfleet Intelligence, exact details were still sketchy. "I guess he didn't tell you what the Great Whatsit did, did he?"