Surefoot 78: Bleeding Edge

Ucarro Major II, Salem Sector:

Darren Kolchak stopped to tighten the scarf around his face, and his hold on the panting furred animal in his care, before continuing onward, desperate to get under cover before his pursuers caught up with them. The creature, an emaciated Rigelian jackalope, reminded him of the baby deer that used to come out from the woods outside his childhood home in the Adirondacks and beg for treats. They were brave little things.

This little one was brave too, and clever, no doubt; but it had no idea what was happening to it, or the world around it. Darren had more cognisance. He suspected he would have been better off being ignorant.

The proximity alert on his wrist unit made him quicken his pace, back to the closest of his hiding spots: a sand-covered gulley against the sun-bleached skeleton of a huge pachyderm creature lying in the sand, along with dozens of others, the remains of a mighty herd of animals that crossed these plains- what, only a week or two ago? When this part of the planet was, at least for a short term, alive?

Kolchak dropped to a particular spot, reaching into the ochre sand, finding the latch and lifting it up carefully, just enough to let him and his latest charge slip in, with precious little sand following. He dropped into the darkness of the small hole, the interior of his escape pod, the jackalope still chittering to itself, allowing him to continue to hold onto it while he removed the canteen from his belt, pulled down his scarf and drank sparingly, not sure how long the pod's recycling units would hold out.

Outside, the sound of one of the drones approached.

He willed his heart to keep from bursting from his chest, as if it might be heard outside. And he waited. He knew how to wait; he'd had enough practice in the last couple of weeks.

The jackalope struggled out of his grasp and dropped to the floor of the hole, sniffing around easily in the dark, getting a sense of its new surroundings. Kolchak carefully poured some water into the cap of the canteen and set it down beside him, near where he knew the animal would-

He heard it scrabble up and began lapping greedily at the repast.

Enjoy it while it lasts, Furball.

He listened at the hatch door, trusting in the diffusive properties of the kelbonite particles in the surrounding sand to confuse their sensors. His phaser was still at his side, at the ready, though he knew that once he used that, there'd be no doubt that he was still alive out here. And then...

Don't think like that.

Morituri

,

as a former editor liked to tell him.

We Who Are About to Die

.

Of course, that was usually before he sent him on a dangerous assignment. Now Kolchak worked freelance.

So instead he sent himself on dangerous assignments.

Yeah, that sounded so much better.

*

Station Salem One, Deck 4 - Broadway:

As he strode down the walkway that wound fully around this deck of the station, Commodore Esek Hrelle's head spun slightly from the cacophony of scents and sounds around him. Commander Haluk had arrived the day before with the one hundred Starfleet Academy and Technical Academy cadets and their support staff, along with the Federation Commissioner and her staff, everyone had settled in and were now exploring their new home... or in the case of many of the cadets, were now stopping and staring in his direction.

His Adjutant, Lt Zir Dassene, walked briskly beside him, reading from her PADD as she did so. "You have a call scheduled at 1100 Hours with Admiral Sutekh at Starfleet Operations regarding the potential installation of a Starfleet depot on Nepenthe."

"Sounds like fun." Hrelle stopped at the newly-opened stylist shop, run by some of the Paserak refugees he agreed to let stay on the station after discovering them hiding here;

how good will hairless reptoids be dealing with cutting hair and fur?

"And what about-"

"The meeting with Lt Salvo regarding the disposition of our new prisoners has been moved to 1300 Hours," she interrupted, "As a window's opened for your Strategic Briefing to Admiral Raner at 1245 Hours."

"Only fifteen minutes with Raner? Seems a trifle short."

"Her Adjutant's told me that she's going on a long-overdue leave after her call with you; as long as we're not reporting our imminent destruction, she won't want to stay around for pleasantries. Sir, we're going to be late for the Squadron Briefing."

Hrelle grinned, his tail swishing behind him, and continued walking towards the lifts up to the Command Decks; the young Orion woman was exceeding his expectations of her in this new role. "And what about-"

"I'll be meeting with Chief Sakai and his team at 1400 Hours, while you have lunch with your family while Sasha is still on-station. I can handle the Chief, so long as I watch out for whoopee cushions-" Zir stopped and glared at a small group of cadets, who were staring and nodding in their direction, muttering between themselves, before jumping as she barked at them, "ARE YOU SQUABS VOLUNTEERING FOR EXTRA DUTY? IS THAT WHY YOU'RE STANDING THERE?"

The group was practically tripping over each other to get somewhere else.

Hrelle had to struggle to keep from laughing as he watched her shaking her head, muttering to herself, "Damn cadets. Sorry, Sir, you'd think they'd never seen a Commodore before."

"Actually," he informed her, "They were talking about

you

."

Zir frowned at him. "Me? Are you sure, Sir?"

He reached up and flicked the tip of his pointed left ear. "These aren't just for show. Don't worry, they weren't being rude or disrespectful; they're actually in awe of you."

"In awe?"

He nodded. "One of the female cadets referred to you as a 'Green Goddess'. "

She turned a darker shade of olive, as she pretended to study her PADD again. "I'll make sure the Cadet Showers only produce cold water. Commodore, we're going to be late to the first Squadron meeting."

"So? All those Captains work for me, they won't complain."

"There's also the new Federation Commissioner," she reminded him soberly. "You agreed to let her sit in, Sir, despite my initial misgivings about including her in Starfleet matters."

"Duly noted."

"You only get to make one first impression, Sir," she added.

He smiled and waved her towards the turbolifts. "Yes, Ma'am."

*

Hrelle looked around him. His Conference Room was twice the size of the one he had on the

Surefoot

, though as he looked around at the assembled officers and staff, he was glad for the space to diffuse the collected scents. "Thank you all for coming here to this first Sabre Squadron One Briefing."

"It's the least we could do, Commodore," Weynik noted, smiling. "Given that, you know, we were ordered here and everything."

Hrelle smiled back... and noted the slightly disapproving reaction from Ryo Nam-Seon, the sector's new Federation Commissioner, a shockingly young-looking human female with prim sable hair and a purple suit that seemed even more starched than her spine, as she sat next to Zir.

He hadn't much of a chance to speak with her before now, but had read her profile: Terran-born, from the Chinese Federated States, with a notable career supporting the Federation Bureau of Planetary Treaties, before accepting her present position of authority: a redoubtable promotion for one her age, even if it

was

located in a remote sector of the UFP. Whether she could manage it was another story.

He put his thoughts aside and focused on the business at hand. "I'd love to make this a regular occurrence for us to all meet in person, but strategically that won't be prudent. So better get used to seeing my beautiful furry face on your ships' viewscreens."

He nodded to Zir, who brought up a map of the sector on the wall behind him, producing highlighted sections of it timed to his speech. "I'm aware that for some of us, we're not yet at optimum, and work is still underway, both on our ships and our crews, so I've tailored your individual assignments to take note of this as much as possible."

He started with Captain Godleski, a broad-jawed, freckled Terran woman with ginger hair ponytailed behind her. "Sonia, you'll be taking the

Prospero

to Axyllus, to examine and resupply the Federation Archaeological Team that's been based there for the last two years, excavating the ruins of the native civilisation.

They've also requested assistance with safely reaching a newly-discovered underground pocket, and to that end, you'll be taking along with you one of my young Science Officers, Ensign Stalac-"

Nam-Seon cleared her throat politely.

Hrelle and several others looked to her. "Yes, Commissioner?"

The young woman leaned forward, eyes wide as she focused on him, her dark lips curling slightly. "Pardon me for interrupting, Commodore, but as I understand it, the Axyllan Ruins are a particularly vital and prestigious archaeological resource."

He waited for her to continue, before prompting with, "Yes, we are all aware of that, Commissioner. What about it?"

Her smile broadened, as if guessing she had to use smaller words for his benefit. "Well, Commodore, don't you think a

junior

Starfleet Science officer might not be the most appropriate person to deal with such an important task? I understand the redoubtable Professor Tallus is now stationed on Salem One. She would certainly be more fitting than some... less qualified individual."

Hrelle saw Weynik react to the mention of his mother's name, but ignored him for now to focus on Nam-Seon. "Professor Tallus is a civilian who will assist us on an

ad hoc

basis when required, and will most likely visit Axyllus at a later date, after she's established herself on Salem One. As for Ensign Stalac's qualifications: beyond his brilliance in multiple scientific fields, he's a Horta. If it involves something underground, then he's the best among us to handle it."

"Ahh," she responded serenely. "You didn't make that clear beforehand."

"He didn't have to," Weynik quipped, smirking. "The Commodore's running this show. If you need to know something, he'll tell you."

Nam-Seon gave the Roylan a look, but said nothing further, leaving Hrelle to turn to another familiar face: Neheru, the Kelpien who years before introduced Hrelle to the Sabre-class vessel that would eventually become the next

Surefoot

, and who served as his Second Officer until he had been wounded in the Battle of Khavak.

Hrelle was pleased to see him back, hale and hearty, the tall, salmon-coloured humanoid older and more experienced enough to command a Sabre of his own. "Neheru, you'll be taking the

Tangshan

to Bandera III. There's a pre-Warp humanoid civilisation there, and a Federation Anthropological Team with a Covert Cultural Observation Post. They should have been rotated out before now, but as you can imagine the War delayed matters. Assist them in shutting down their post, and bring them and whatever data they've collected back here. Now-"

Nam-Seon cleared her throat again.

Hrelle turned back to her. "Yes, Commissioner?"

She smiled politely. "Pardon me for interrupting again, Commodore, but I would have thought that, given the sensitive nature of our covertly monitoring a pre-Warp civilisation, that you would have warned your subordinate against accidentally revealing our presence or technology to the local inhabitants."

"No, Commissioner, I didn't," he admitted, "For the same reason that I'm not warning everyone here against being drunk on duty, or signing up with the Orion Syndicate: because we're all professional and it's not necessary. Still, if it'll assuage you..." He turned back to Neheru. "Try not to end up appearing as a god to the Banderans if you can help it."

Neheru steepled his elongated fingers and curled his lipless mouth in amusement. "Pity, I

had

ordered a large marble statue in my image for them to worship, but I suppose I'll just save it for my quarters."

The other Captains chuckled at that. Nam-Seon didn't, but Hrelle decided to let it pass as he moved on to Captain Blum, the former Chief Engineer of the border ship

Tempest

, who had risen in rank and position thanks to the losses suffered in the War. He was another old friend of Hrelle's, and Hrelle had noted how the man's thick beard had collected some grey along the way. "Marvin, you and the

Ulyanov

will be proceeding to the Deertail Cloud, to repair and replace the navigational hazard beacons set up around it."

Zir brought up the image of a curled, purple-red swirl of gas as Hrelle continued. "I need to stress that under no circumstances are you allowed to enter the Cloud itself. No deeper than 1175 particles per cubic metre, if you can absolutely help it. Same goes for the rest of you, and any cadets who might be out on their own and looking to get nosy."

Blum smirked. "Ahh, you've saved the glamorous work for me."

Nam-Seon cleared her throat again.

Hrelle looked at her again. "Yes, Commissioner?"

The woman frowned. "Commodore, the data package I was given about Salem Sector when I accepted this assignment mentioned the Deertail Cloud, but didn't go into too much detail. I know they can sometimes be navigational hazards, but the way you're describing it, perhaps it warrants a more thorough study-"

"No."

She blinked. "No?"

He shook his head. "No. Deertail's sleeping, and doesn't want to be disturbed; ships that

do

disturb her end up being crushed and spat out. Everyone who's lived in this sector long enough knows this, and knows to avoid it. The beacons I set up around her twenty years ago when I captained the

Furyk

and made contact with her are just there for the curious and the stupid.

The true nature behind Deertail is Classified, to protect her from possible exploitation. And that's all I'm prepared to say on the subject."

Nam-Seon blinked, her skin flushing as she took in the revelation. "I... see."

"Good." Hrelle looked at Captain Arrington now, another human closer to his age, with honey blonde hair, sharp nose and icy blue eyes. "Lucille, you'll be taking the

Al-Razi

to the Ucarro Minor system, specifically to the ninth planet, a Free Port on the boundary between open space, the Salem Sector and the Paserak Homelands. It's your typical wretched hive of scum and villainy; we have no jurisdiction over it, but it's been useful at times.

Like now. The Paserak frequent Ucarro Minor on their way to their Homelands, and I want some discreet intelligence gathering, monitoring their communications, movements, etc. Our Paserak residents on Salem One have talked about some recent internal conflict among their people, though they were reluctant to go into further detail-"

Nam-Seon cleared her throat again.

Weynik made a sound himself now, but Hrelle turned back patiently to her. "Yes, Commissioner?"

"Pardon me for interrupting again, Commodore, but the Federation does not make a habit of spying on its neighbours."

That produced a reaction from some of the Captains, most notably Weynik, who asked her, "And what storybook did you read that in, Missy? You're in the real world now-"

Hrelle raised a paw to his friend to cut him off, before continuing, more gently, to Nam-Seon, "I hate to contradict you, Commissioner, but the Federation, every galactic power, does that very thing. And with good reason; as much as I respect the Paseraks' privacy, what happens with our neighbours can affect us profoundly, and we can't afford to not be prepared."

Arrington nodded knowingly. "Can we expect trouble, Commodore?"

"My own personal experience with them was that they only use their weapons in defence... but whatever's going on with them now might have changed that policy. Defend yourselves if necessary, of course, but otherwise stick with the Better Course of Valour."

He then turned back to Weynik. "And on a related note: following up on the Kzinti attack on the Paserak ship near Salem One, I want the

Katana

to backtrack the route the raiders might have taken; the Kzinti might have used our absence from the sector to set up a hidden base nearby to more closely monitor us. If they have, then assess the situation, deal with them yourself if you can, draw back and alert us if you can't."

"So, Commodore," Nam-Seon interrupted, "You have no problem with our spying on others, just when the situation is reversed?"

He looked at her again, feeling his patience wearing. "Only when the ones spying on us are more likely to use the knowledge they gain to launch attacks. Now, if you'll excuse me?" He focused on the Vulcan female beside Blum. "T'Varik, I want you to take the

Surefoot

to the Ucarro Major system, next door to Ucarro Minor - specifically, you're going to the second planet in the Ucarro Major system."

He glanced behind him, as Zir manipulated the images to display a small, cloud-covered planet to illustrate his subequent words. "Ucarro Major II is a Class-K planet used by Zorin Interstellar Industries as a training and testing platform for their Terraforming Division."

T'Varik raised an eyebrow. "Have they requested assistance from us, Commodore?"

"On the contrary: the response we received from Zorin's local Project Manager, a Mr Paul Reiser, assured us that they were fully self-sufficient in supplies, transport, security, all that credits could buy, and have been throughout our temporary withdrawal from the Sector, and that there was no reason to waste our time visiting.

But you're not going there for their benefit, but to investigate what happened to the SS

Whisper

, a private courier vessel hired to transport a passenger to Ucarro Major: a Federation News Service journalist named Darren Kolchak. According to his associates at the FNS offices on Triacus, Kolchak was set to do a feature on Zorin Interstellar's Terraforming Division, but the

Whisper

allegedly never arrived; the automated perimeter satellites set up by ZI on the edge of the Ucarro Major system reported spotting the ship on long-range sensors, being attacked and destroyed by the Marauder Pack we apprehended on Scesity before arriving here.

I want the

Surefoot

to go and find out what

really

happened-"

Nam-Seon cleared her throat again.

"You really should get the Station Hospital to check that out, Commissioner," Weynik suggested dryly.

Hrelle pressed his paws into the surface of the table, feeling his hackles rise, accepting just how right Zir had been in doubting the wisdom of having the other woman present. "What is it now, Commissioner?"

"Commodore, Zorin Interstellar is a prominent company, with a reputation for delivering on contracts for exploration, shipping, mining and others, and like many private corporations have supported the Federation infrastructure while Starfleet focused on the Dominion War."

He shrugged. "Yes, and?"

Nam-Seon folded her hands on the table. "And frankly, I find it disquieting that you're reacting with such suspicion without good cause."

He nodded, glad that, if she was going to be a burr in his fur, that she had taken this route. "I understand completely, Commissioner. And if you hadn't interrupted me - once again - then I would have gotten to the part where I explained that at the time Zorin Interstellar claimed the Marauders were attacking the

Whisper

, the Marauders were actually at Telamon, many, many light years away. We confirmed this from their own ships' logs."

Nam-Seon swallowed. "I... see."

"Good. Now, knowing how efficient Lt Dassene is, I'm sure she will have already sent the appropriate mission packets to your respective ships, so I'll let you take advantage of your remaining time at the station before departing. Dismissed... Commissioner, would you remain for a moment, please?"