Chapter 9
Star Stallion 2
Argaya System
Though she loved her position at the Conn, Llewellyn-Smyth enjoyed piloting the Stallions almost as much. The ships weren’t pretty and being slightly smaller than a Danube-Class runabout they weren’t the smallest shuttles available in the fleet, but they were rugged—just like the Silverfin—you could fly them through an ion storm and come out in one piece, and their combination or armament and cargo capacity made them ideally suited for their duties in the Border Service.
Since they were pursuing the transport through the debris filled system, she had opted for manual steering controls—finding that using the joysticks made the ship for more responsive than the standard LCARS panel. Amorin hadn’t commented on her choice, focusing on monitoring and maintaining the shuttles systems, but Ensign Tyler had looked at her in bewilderment, though he remained quiet. He did become overzealous in reporting sensor readings and navigational hazards, even though she had a sensor screen open before her for the exact same purpose.
He’s probably not used to a sentient being doing all the actual flying, she thought to herself. The flight controls of most vessels were regulated and processed by the ship’s computer, it wasn’t often that she got to do any real flying—except when the situation called for more delicacy or finesse than the computer could handle—and going through the Argaya System needed real-time reflexes and instinct at the stick.
Her sensor screen highlighted a chuck of rock, roughly the size of Ireland, tumbling towards them. Before Tyler could tell her, she nudged the controls and the Stallion flew underneath the meteoroid, missing it by a good thirty meters.
A control chirped on the Tactical Officer’s console. She glanced at her own readouts and noticed what was ahead of them.
“Commander,” the Ensign spoke up. “I’ve got the Mirage, dead ahead. Distance point-six AUs.”
The Benzenite stood up and leaned between their chairs, taking a closer look at the sensor display. “By the looks of this, they seem to be heading pretty much straight for the second planet,” he mused aloud. Llewellyn-Smyth had already checked their heading and done a few quick mental calculations to work out a few probable destinations, and Argaya II seemed them mostly likely. “Harriet, what would be our best approach vector?”
She looked at the sensor display in front of her, the radiation and dust would obscure the Stallion from the transports limited sensors—their own had been designed for finding ships in terrible conditions. Their course was more or less straight, ducking and diving to miss the largest pieces of rock, but they were only at one-third impulse. To get the advantage on the transport and their thoron pulse, they would need to come at them from the side. Ahead of them was a small radiation field that would obscure them from the Mirage’s sensors before they pounced.
Llewellyn-Smyth highlighted her plan to the First Officer, who heard her out and then looked at Tyler. “Will the radiation cause us problems?”
The young officer checked his readings and shook his head. “Maybe a little shield degradation, but nothing severe. So long as we’re not inside for too long.”
Amorin nodded his large oddly-shaped head, then turned his attention back to her. “Can you get us ahead of them?”
“If we go off their course and increase to full impulse, I can do it sir.”
“I don’t doubt it Lieutenant.” He gave the plan a moments thought then nodded. “Do it. Ensign, I want to collapse their shields only so we can beam over—the last thing we need is to knock out their engines and navigation systems in here.”
“Aye sir. I’ll rig the micro-Rat-Traps for a ten percent discharge. That should be enough to disrupt their shields.”
Amorin nodded again and took his seat. Towards the midship compartment, where the rest of the team were strapped in, he called, “Hang on tightly back there. This could get bumpy.”
When he was seated again, Llewellyn-Smyth decreased the inertial dampers (to give her more control), flexed her grip on the joysticks and tapped the impulse throttle panel. The Stallion sped up, and she moved them to starboard. Her course was an arch shape, through some particularly dense patches, but she was cool and kept her movements slight and subtle.
As she Stallion cut through the debris field, she relied on her eyes and wits, knowing that Tyler would keep her covered on the sensors. Since their little chat back at Star Station Freedom, they had begun to work more smoothly, as they relaxed and got to know a little more about each other. It would take a little longer for them to become a solid team, but for now their skills proved to complement each other well.
With a tip of her hand or a flick of her wrist, the Stallion responded immediately, gliding port or starboard, rising and dipping around objects, her speed remaining constant. Had it not been as important a situation, Llewellyn-Smyth would have been smiling—exhilarated by the challenge and the danger. She shook the thought from her head as she dodged to port, then quickly pulled back on the controls, climbing over another meteoroid that was lurking behind the first piece of planetary debris.
There weren’t many places in the whole of Starfleet that she could really put her skills and abilities to the test, like what the Border Service offered—which was why she had requested an assignment to an Albacore-Class ship when she’d graduated. Since then, she had never regretted her choice. She had learned a lot under Captain Ja-Inrosh, and even more under Captain Leijten. Amorin was a tough but fair XO, who gave just enough slack at the reigns to let the crew flourish—just as he was now, letting her choose her course and manoeuvres. She had made some close friends aboard the Silverfin, though some (like Alec Murphy) were now dead, others (like Ling-Na) had left for other opportunities in the fleet, and then there was Kolanis, and the question of whether or not he would ever return.
A proximity alert warned her of a chuck of mountain, that came spinning out of nowhere towards them. She slammed the Stallion hard to port and yanked back on the joysticks, trying to pull them over the shuttle-killer piece of rock. They just made it, with less than four meters to spare, before she pitched them back down to miss a jagged outcropping that would have torn through the Stallions reinforced hull. Pushing the impulse engines for every last milligram of strength they had left.
Evading the surprise mountain, she let out a long slow breath, and saw out the corner of her eye that Tyler was a shade paler than before, and his hands clamped onto the console like a vice.
“Sorry about that,” she quipped.
From behind she heard a soft chuckle from Amorin. “A little warning next time would be nice Lieutenant.”
“I’ll try sir.”
Continuing onwards, their surprise encounter hadn’t slowed them down by too much, and they reached the radiation field well ahead of the Mirage. Amorin unbuckled again and stepped closer to them as they entered the field, which was indistinguishable from normal space.
“Shields only Mr Tyler. Once they’re down, lock on a tractor beam and transport us over in three teams. One to the bridge, one to the engine room and the last to the cargo hold.”
“Aye Commander,” the Tactical Officer promptly replied.
Amorin stepped out of the cockpit, to join the others in the midship compartment and suit up for boarding the Mirage as Llewellyn-Smyth plotted an attack pattern on the small transport ship. On the sensor display in front of her, she saw the ship getting closer.
She looked at Tyler. “Manoeuvre gamma-six Ensign.”
“Confirmed Lieutenant.”
When the Mirage was in striking distance, she slapped the impulse control again. The Stallion pounced head on, barrelling towards the J-Class ship. Before they had time to veer off, Tyler launched a micro-torpedo. It detonated just in front of the ship and flashed. He checked the sensors and she saw him smile as he tapped tractor beam controls and snared the Mirage.
“Tyler to boarding teams, prepare for transport,” he said into the intercom, as she brought the Stallion in closer to the renegade ship. After a moment, he called, “Energising.”
As she reversed thrust, to slow both ships down, she crossed her fingers for the boarding teams.
***
Bridge, S.S. Mirage NTL-439
Seized by Star Stallion 2, Argaya System
No matter what Jeffery Mellor did, he couldn’t get the shields back up or break away from the tractor beam that held them fast. He scrutinised the large ugly shuttle through the forward viewport, finding it hard to believe that such a ship was both used by Starfleet and that it had overpowered them so easily.
He looked at Grak. “Ready the thoron pulse!” he barked, not willing to go down without a fight.
“It’s out.”
“What? How?”
“It runs off warp power, and with the core offline, we lost the particle emitter too,” she told him, her tone suggesting that he knew that as well as she did. “It only work the first time because there was still a residual charge left in the power grid.”
Before he could reply, he heard the telltale whine of a transporter. Mellor looked over his shoulder and saw two pillars materialise just in front of the bridge’s only entrance, one tall and lean, and the other short and stocky. On the bulkhead just to the right of the door was an equipment locker, in which held scanners, flashlights, a medkit, and a phaser. But the tall invader blocked it from him.
“Reading two more boarding teams,” announced Grak, “in engineering and the hold.”
When the two Starfleeters materialised he was faced with a towering Benzenite, his blue face obscured behind a breather mask and goggles, the breathing tubes from his chin to his chest requiring a special uniform to accommodate them, but Mellor clearly saw the red shirt and commander pips; the other was a pillbug-like Nasat, also blue in colour, her feelers quivering. Both held stocky phaser rifles aimed right at Mellor and Grak.
All he could do was stare at the two invaders; his chest tight, his stomach churning, a sense of dread filling his soul, as his already wore out mind tried to process what their presence meant for Becky.
“I’m Commander Amorin of the Border Cutter Silverfin,” the Benzentine said, his voice deep and gravely. “You and your crew are under arrest, on charges of ignoring an order to submit to a full inspection, attacking a Border Service vessel, evading capture, and violation of Federation Shipping Codes regarding engine emissions. You will stand down and return to the Silverfin with us immediately.”
It was at that moment, the tightly wound Jeffery Mellor snapped. He wailed and sunk to the floor, sobs racking his body as the Nasat trained her rifle squarely on his chest. As he wept, he muttered to quietly, “You’ve killed her. Becky. I’m sorry. You’ve killed her.” His mind shut off as he cried and rocked gently, repeating his mournful mantra.
***
Bridge, S.S. Mirage NTL-439
Argaya System
Amorin looked down at the frail looking human who was rocking back and forth, crying and muttering to himself. He had expected the crew to try and fight back or argue their way out of the situation. Seeing someone break down so completely hadn’t been a possibility in his mind. Something very odd was going on onboard the Mirage.
He looked at the other crewmember on the bridge, a portly Tellarite woman of about fifty Earth years, roughly the same age as the other pilot. She looked down at the human with such concern and sympathy and distress, Amorin feared she would react the same way.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded.
The Tellarite ignored him and crouched down to her shipmate. Crewman K8 Blue shifted her phaser carbine towards her, but Amorin gestured for her to stand down. These people were no threat to them.
“Captain?” the Tellarite said softly. “Captain Mellor? Jeff, can you hear me?” Her enquiries received no response other than the rock, the tears and the muttering of before.
He tapped him combadge. “Amorin to Syva. Status?”
“The engine room is secure. Only one individual present, Ixaab Zoln.”
“Master Chief, can you get up to the bridge please.”
“On my way Commander,” she replied promptly.
Amorin and Blue waited for the Vulcan COB to arrive, watching the Tellarite trying to reach her Captain who remained oblivious to her efforts and to his surroundings. He was able to make out some of what he was saying; referring to someone called ‘Becky’ and the belief that she was now dead.
Behind him the doors parted and Syva stepped into the bridge. She took in the small room and the four occupants, her eyebrow rising when she saw the only human in the room then looked up at Amorin. She pulled the medical tricorder from the kit she had secure at her lower back—her emergency medical training being far greater than anyone else on the team.
She stooped down to the man and began to run the device over him. As she worked, he looked down at the Tellarite woman again.
“Who are you and what’s going on here?” he asked, softer than before.
The Tellarite stood up again slowly, though her full height barely reached Amorin’s chest. “My name is Tillg jans Grak.” She gestured to the man on the deck. “That is Captain Jeffery Mellor. We…we are trying to save Rebecca Mellor. His daughter.”
***
Detention Block, Chanok Striker Gzek’ta
Approaching the Argaya System
Rebecca (Becky to her father, despite the fact she hated it) Mellor sat shivering in her cell. The cold metal had long since numbed her buttocks and thighs, even through her trousers—the same pair she’d had on the day she’d been kidnapped, which felt like a lifetime ago. The cellblock she was in reeked, even after all the weeks she’d spent in her cage she hadn’t gotten used to the stench. What was worse than the smell was the way the guards—all the dull copper-coloured ones anyway—eyed up her lithe body. Though she didn’t know their species, she knew men, and the looks they gave. Every time one of them paused at the bars and looked in on her, she wanted to cry, the way they abused her with their eyes.
It was a few days after she arrived, one had entered her cell and advanced on her, the look in his eyes was feral. She knew what he would do, and that if she struggled he would likely kill her with his bare hands. As he had stood in front of her, leering at her and licking his lips, he reached out to touch her face. When his hand was just a few centimetres from her crawling skin, a short, jagged blade tore through his throat, spraying dark blue blood all over her.
The guards’ body fell to the side, and a taller alien stood in his place. His skin was a light brass colour, his eyes blazed yellow and his long grey hair was tied back. Around his right eye was tattooed and there were three silver studs in the same eyebrow, that along with his smarter appearance told her he was someone of importance onboard. She had expected him to continue what the guard had started. But instead, he had retrieved the body and dragged it out of her cell, closing and locking the door behind him. For the following couple of weeks, the guards had been terrified to look in on her, but that had now passed and she feared another would try to force himself on her again.
Hours ago, her saviour had returned and told her that her father was about to finish his last job for them. After which she would be returned to the Mirage. Though she wanted to believe the alien officer, she knew that he could be playing with her head, trying to break her by promising her freedom, only then to snatch it away from her. She didn’t even now is her father, Grak and Ixaab were still alive or not. At the thought of Ixaab her heart ached.
Is he/they still alive? Is he/they free, or just down the hall? What’s he/they going through? she asked herself. As always, she didn’t have any answers. Everyday she asked herself the same questions and got the same answers. She would wonder how her father was holding up, knowing that after the loss of her mother two years ago, he had been getting more wary and tired. She had talked him into working for the Zakarrans, seeing it as a good way to make enough for him to retire somewhere comfortable and relax.
Part of her hoped that the alien meant what he said, that she was going free, so that she could give her father the retirement he so rightly deserved. But she knew not to get her hopes up. He could already be dead, or she might soon be.
***
I bet Leijten is mad enough to chew nails.
The captain of the Mirage is obviously desperate to save his wife, so his actions are understandable even if reckless. Too bad he couldn't communicate with Leijten to inform her of his predicament. 
). I think Tyler was about to lose his lunch!
