Star Trek : Angel - Vignette No 4

[unusualsuspex]

DAN FISHLOCK​

SO MANY DIFFERENT SHADES​

Maximilien Robespierre – ‘Crime butchers innocence to secure a throne, and innocence
struggles with all its might against the attempts of crime.’​

NEW PORT CENTRAL DISTRICT
SHENATH
SHENATH SECTOR
June 14th 2361​

It was really turning into a miserable day.​

He wasn’t sure if it was the first kick that broke his ribs or the deftly wielded Barok club that swung in after it. Either way it hurt like hell. Fishlock grabbed the club before it was drawn back for another blow and used the leverage to pull the first thug between himself and the second.​

Without a sound, and despite the fire that burnt in his chest, he pushed back on the club, twisted and was gratified to hear the snap of the henchman’s wrist accompanied by a wail of pain. As the club came free, he spun it so that the smooth hand grip fell into his grasp and brought it back…​

“That would be a very unwise move Earther.”​

He recognised the smug voice instantly and reluctantly stayed his swing.​

“Herak-Jos.” Fishlock tried to hide the pain and maintain an outward calm. “What’s a fine upstanding businessman like you doing in a pit like this?”​

“Ah, ever the joker.” It was then that Fishlock felt the cold steel of a blade at his throat. “But not for much longer.”​

Knowing what was coming, he tensed his body. He felt the slightest nudge in his back and launched himself sideways, rolling across the filthy floor to end up against the wall. At the same time, the blinding flash of phaser fire lit up the dingy room and the two thugs dropped to the floor. Judging by the smoking mess that had once been their chests, it was unlikely they’d be getting up.​

“You know one of these days you’re going to cut it way too close.” Fishlock winced as once again the pain in his chest advertised the damage done to his ribs.​

“Whine, whine, whine. It’s no wonder people keep trying to kill you! What was it this time? Women? Money?” Herak-Jos wasn’t as stupid as he was green – literally - because he wasn’t an Orion by birth. His real name was, or had been, Jim Cassa. Surgically altered at Starfleet Medical he had gone deep undercover fifteen years ago and set himself up as a small time entrepreneur. Now, he purposely kept his operations low key avoiding the interest of the Orion Syndicate while becoming a gold mine of information in the Shenath Sector.​

Shaking his head and grinning wolfishly, he said “Let’s get these bodies out of sight and get out of here.”​

Fishlock couldn’t agree more. His ribs protested wildly as he took the feet of the first body and Herak took the shoulders, hoisting it into the recycling unit. The second was heavier, a dead weight of solid muscle and halfway to the unit Fishlock’s chest flared intensely with pain. Unable to maintain his grip, he dropped the feet of the corpse and Herak tried in vain to support the weight himself. With the sound of rending material, the shirt came free of the body and Herak gasped.​

“Oh shit Danny boy.”​

Fishlock, kneeling and clutching his chest, gasped “Sorry, H, just give me a minute here...”​

“No seriously Dan, look at this.” Herak pointed at a tattoo on the exposed arm of the thug; a razor toothed beast impaled on a curved sword.​

“So he had a lousy taste in tattoo artists, or am I missing the point?” The look on Herak’s face made him realise that he was deadly serious. “What?”​

“These guys were members of the Rashta Cartel. You, my man, have upset one of the big guys, and that is not a good thing.” Pointing at the corpse, he said urgently, “Let’s move it then get some place where we can fix those ribs!”​

THANIA IMPORT/EXPORT STORAGE AREA
NEW PORT SUBURBS
SHENATH
SHENATH SECTOR
June 14th 2361​

The suburbs of New Port were slightly more upmarket than the central district in that they had working plumbing, but beyond that little could be said in praise of them. Every other lumipole was either flickering or dead completely, causing enough dark shadows to effectively conceal Fishlock and H as they entered the warehouse.​

“Well at least nobody’s been here,” whispered H.​

“How do you know? Alarms?” Fishlock looked around him in the stygian gloom and saw no tell-tale lights marking cameras or security panels.​

“Hardly, Danny Boy. Even the juves round here can bypass security alarms before they’re out of kindergarten. Nope, a lot less sophisticated; the whole place is rigged with compound explosives tagged to my DNA.” Fishlock’s eyes went wide. “Hand on the entry panel, DNA scan, explosives disarmed…or not as the case may be.”​

“Nice.” Fishlock was most unconvinced. “And this is meant to be one of my safe points?”​

H chuckled as they entered a non-descript store room halfway down the complex.​

“Safe,” he said, groping around behind crates, “is such a relative term. I mean a baby sehlat is pretty much safe with its mommy, but you wouldn’t catch me trying to snuggle in there.” With a grunt he flicked a switch between two rust and grime encrusted pipes, (surprisingly his hand came away clean), and the room sank slowly below ground level. As it did so, a cleverly concealed false floor slid into place above it hiding the fact that the warehouse was now effectively a room short.​

Fishlock was surprised that the whole mechanical endeavour barely made a sound and said as much.​

“It wouldn’t be very secret if every time I came in here it clanked like that old…what is it you got?”​

“It’s a Mustang and you know it. Besides she purrs, she does not clank!”​

One of Dan’s true loves was the beautifully restored and airworthy World War Two North American Mustang that had been resident at the Fishlock owned airstrip since 1952. When the airstrip became a shuttle port, the Mustang had remained and Fishlock had eventually spent much of his youth bringing it back to flying condition. Nobody badmouthed his baby, except H.​

“Enough already, we’ll talk pleasure after business. Now while I mend the broken bits, would you like to give me a few more details other than ‘TOP PRIORITY DELIVERY EXPECTED, PLEASE SAFEGUARD UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE’?”​

All comms from SpecOps to H were coached in business terms from a non-existent courier service, though this was the briefest brief he’d ever received.​

By the time Fishlock had finished his explanation and explored his repaired but still tender ribs, H’s face had turned a very pale green.​

“No wonder the Rashta boys were involved, which I’m guessing means your cover’s blown?”​

“Possibly. Don’t ask me how but it looks like there’s a leak a mile wide on this. If it is blown, I don’t want to be around you any longer than I need to. All I want is three safe points within a reasonable distance of the port, then you need an off planet vacation. Can you do it?” Fishlock watched H’s face expectantly as he considered.​

“Alright,” he said finally, “it’s doable Danny Boy.” He fished a small PADD from the heavy desk, tapped in several entries then took a DNA sample from Fishlock. Transmitting the DNA scan on an encrypted frequency, he smiled and handed the PADD to Dan.​

“Three addresses, all tagged to your DNA and all safeguarded the same as this place. Instructions are on there, now scram; I’m getting out while I still can.”​

From the underground office, H led Fishlock through a labyrinth of disused…well, tunnels was too grand a name for them, but they eventually led to the surface some two kilometres away.​

H looked at Fishlock seriously. “For pity’s sake be careful Dan. Of all the not nice people in this sector, these are the ‘not nicest’.”​

With a grateful nod and a brief handshake, they parted; Fishlock heading to the nearest safe point and H to a hidden emergency shuttle. Within ten minutes, the sky behind Fishlock lit up like a false dawn as the recently vacated warehouse hid its previous occupier’s departure by obediently imploding. He carried on running, all the while whispering into his subcutaneous transceiver.​

ATOZ RESIDENTIAL AREA
NEW PORT WESTERN SECTOR TWO
SHENATH
SHENATH SECTOR
June 15th 2361​

Fishlock had sat in the bushes across from the distinctly smart looking residence for an hour now. Lights came on then went out in the building, once or twice a vague sound came from inside but nothing out of the ordinary; time to move. He whispered into the transceiver after maintaining silence during his observation.​

“Bravo.”​

“Go.”​

“Rear. Two.”​

“Out”​

Keeping to the shrubbery he made his way to the rear service lane of the building and halted in the shadow of a ground vehicle. When the two minutes were up he ran to the surrounding wall and vaulted it with ease, catching out of the corner of his eye, movement further along. He landed in more decorative bushes and waited.​

“Alpha.”​

“Go.”​

“Bravo in.”​

“Out.”​

In moments, a dark shape moved along the tree line eventually detaching itself from the shadows to enter the bushes silently. As the dark figure approached his position, he raised a blackened knife blade and held his breath.​

“Alpha. Mustang.”​

He released his breath silently and lowered the blade as Kat Gray stole up beside him.​

“Nice place,” she whispered.​

“Let’s get inside before you start talking interior design.”​

******​

Once inside the building with the safeguard (thankfully) deactivating safely, Fishlock reset it and checked the PADD again. As he did so, a light in the adjoining room came on and Gray jumped involuntarily.​

“Damn, it’s a good job you warned me about these lights. I was convinced the place was occupied.”​

He smirked. “Well if it fooled you, it should leave the local thugs totally confused.”​

“Why is it I never know whether to take what you say as a compliment?”​

There was a faint ‘snick’ as Fishlock opened a concealed panel beneath an ornate desk and flicked three switches in the order specified on the PADD. A section of flooring by the interior wall hinged silently down and the dim glow of low level lighting could be seen. Without a word and keeping low, they quickly slipped into the shielded room below and the panel closed above them, finally relaxing as the lights increased to a comfortable level.​

A quick inspection showed the safe point to be both functional and comfortable, with three small bedrooms, a shower and a central room with a replicator. After fixing a warm meal and updating their own TacPADDs on a link to their ship at the port, they relaxed for what seemed the first time in hours.​

“Ok, Munrey-Baj ships out at 0630 hours tomorrow which means I need to be aboard by 0530 latest. Let’s say an hour to the port, another hour to get aboard, so we need to leave here at 0300 to give us a safe margin.”​

Kat watched Fishlock scroll through the mission brief, intent and unyielding.​

“Dan, are you sure you want this to be a one man show?”​

“Certain. I need you in the shuttle tailing the…”​

She cut him off. “Sod the shuttle Dan. If we take the ship, we have transport. If we don’t, then we won’t need it.”​

He looked at her carefully for several seconds. “Sorry Kat,” he said at last, “it’s still ‘I’ not ‘we’. If anything goes wrong on that ship, it’s to be taken out” – he held up a hand to silence her protest – “whether I’m on there or not. You know the score Kat. Whatever that shipment is, it’s listed as an Alpha One mission; captured or destroyed.” She still looked unconvinced. “Promise me Kat?”​

Eventually, she nodded. “Alright, but you promise me, the first sign of trouble you get out.”​

“Ok, mom,” he grinned before turning serious again. “I appreciate it Kat really, but if this goes to plan it’ll be over inside an hour of breaking orbit.” He hoped.​

BERTH 17
NEW PORT SPACE HUB
SHENATH
SHENATH SECTOR
June 16th 2361​

They’d spent the previous day resting at the safe point before leaving in the early hours of this morning for the New Port space hub, a sprawling mass of launch and repair pits and open ferrocrete hard standings. While Gray had slipped back aboard the customised shuttle, Fishlock had spent the better part of an hour observing the battered freighter in Berth 17.​

When he was convinced that the ground crew were complete and the external bay lights had been dimmed to aid the flight crew, he sprinted from his position to the rear most landing strut and quickly shinned to the top. Running his tricorder around the engineering access port, he located the trip switch which ground crew used to avoid setting alarms off in the cabin and deactivated it, swinging himself quickly through into the cramped interior. As he quickly shut the hatch and reset the switch, a horn blared close to his cramped hiding place frightening the few wits he had left out of him.​

“This is the bridge. All exterior ports will close in five minutes. Launch in ten. Crew to stand by.”​

Like all of Fishlock’s equipment, his TacSuit was unmarked and untraceable. In the event of something going catastrophically wrong, Starfleet would never be indicted. Also like the rest of his equipment, it was matt black and as he moved from cover to cover in the bowels of the ship, he blended into the shadows with barely a trace.​

By the time he reached his pre-arranged stop point, the ship had started to lift. He and Kat had agreed on comm silence but he knew right now, she’d be following her flight plan to boost into orbit behind the freighter. The tracer he’d planted in the rear engineering compartment would mean she could tail from a good distance without losing the ship, even in subspace. Now the wait began.​

​

 

[unusualsuspex]

Re: Star Trek : Angel - Vignette No 4 (cont)

FREE TRADER TREKNAR
SUBSPACE
DESTINATION UNKNOWN
SHENATH SECTOR
June 16th 2361​

Fishlock knew there were five crewmen below decks and four on the bridge and when his time came to move, he knew where each and every one of them was. First he stunned the pair of Ferengi playing a confusing board game that had each of them alternately throwing cards on the floor, and then picking them up again. The two Orions in the engineering space were a little more difficult as they constantly moved about within sight of each other, but still quickly stunned. The final crew member was guarding the access tube to the bridge, and Fishlock knew that as soon as he’d removed him from the fray, he needed to move fast.​

It wasn’t a him as it turned out; it was most definitely a her. The small amount of clothing she wore attested to that fact with acres of green skin on display. Even so, she seemed to be carrying enough weaponry to begin a small civil war. Fishlock briefly thought that it seemed a shame to stun her, but then realised that was probably just the Orion pheromones working. Best to get it done quickly before his mind turned to goo.​

Leaning quickly around the corner, he fired a wide beam stun. It stopped some two metres away from the woman with the static discharge of an active forcefield. She didn’t even flinch.​

“It’s about time you got here Earther.” She sneered, but it was in a very alluring way. “I’ll keep this brief because I don’t have much time, but then neither do you.”​

Puzzled, Fishlock tried to regain the upper hand. “And you are?”​

“Munrey-Baj, inter-planetary trader, in a hurry and to be honest I don’t really care who you are.”​

A woman? Thought Fishlock astounded. He’d always been led to believe that Orion men were dominant and the women little more than sex slaves. This was an unfortunate way to be educated otherwise.​

“Don’t look so surprised Earther. You’re not the only one to learn the hard way. Right now though you have…” She raised a slim green hand and hit a panel beside the bridge access tube. “…exactly thirty minutes to disarm the bio-weapon that’s in the cargo bay. Too late and the ship gets flooded with Liran virus. Not a pleasant way for you to go.”​

She smiled sweetly and was just about to climb the bridge ladder when she turned back. “Just as an incentive, you ought to know that the cargo you were expecting is on our other ship. This one’s just carrying about a hundred and fifty refugees out to Hedrion and I’m fairly sure they’d like you to get it right as well. Enjoy.”​

As her shapely legs began to ascend the ladder, Fishlock got in a futile shot before the blastdoor dropped and the front section of the vessel detached. With the warp field dispersed, the cargo and engineering sections dropped back into real space with a jar as Fishlock raced back to the cargo doors.​

“Bravo.”​

“Go.” At least the signal booster was working.​

“This target is non-viable. Viable target is Oscar, repeat Oscar.”​

“Target Oscar received Alpha. Will pick you up in six minutes then proceed for Oscar.”​

“Negative Bravo, mission compromised. Proceed direct Oscar and recover me later.”​

“Ah, Alpha…” Whatever Kat may have been about to say, she kept to herself. “Proceeding Oscar this time, I’ll…” Silence, then “Bravo out.”​

Fishlock had reached the cargo doors by this time and saw a wall mounted panel with ever decreasing numbers as the time allotted to him slowly ebbed away. More disturbing to him personally was a small display screen next to it which showed the huddled mass of refugees in the cargo pod, crammed in without a thought to comfort in the knowledge that not one of them would complain. He was physically sickened at their unwitting use as pawns in a decidedly deadly game.​

Scanning the countdown panel and finding nothing suspicious in the way of booby traps, he removed the cover. Inside was a mass of circuits, conduits and ODN cables. All brand new and every single one was green.​

“Bitch!” The epithet was aimed at the callous Orion Syndicate woman, but it fell on the overly large ears of one of the Ferengi who was just staggering to his feet. He watched warily as Fishlock turned towards him and then cringed when he waved a vicious looking disruptor at him.​

“Listen, your boss just dumped the whole stardrive and cargo section with a time delayed bioweapon that I’m trying to de-rig. Either stay out of my way or we all die in a nasty way.”​

The Ferengi wisely kept quiet and set about trying to revive his partner. Meanwhile Fishlock continued to scan the entangled mono-coloured mess inside the panel. He had just twenty two minutes left and he knew that it wouldn’t be enough.​

SPECOPS SHUTTLE
DESTINATION TARGET OSCAR
SHENATH SECTOR
June 16th 2361​

“Negative Bravo, mission compromised. Proceed direct Oscar and recover me later.”​

“Ah, Alpha…” Damn it thought Kat I can’t do this Dan. But she realised she had no choice and said resignedly, “Proceeding Oscar this time, I’ll…” She wanted to tell him there and then, but she couldn’t do it, not like this. It would have to be later, if there was a later. “Bravo out.”​

Swinging the shuttle about, she brought up the trace on target Oscar, the Free Trader Ashkentt run by the same company. Even at minimum warp she saw that if she wasn’t careful she’d overshoot her target.​

Why’s it travelling so slowly? She wondered. It didn’t matter, the target was hers and its slow speed simply made the job easier. It either surrendered or it was history and right now she didn’t particularly care which. On board was a cargo of bio weapons so horrific that, as far as she was concerned, they were better destroyed than falling into anybody’s hands let alone the wrong ones. Shadowing it for a few minutes, she gauged her options.​

On the verge of challenging the ship, she stopped. There on her screen was another trace on an intercept course and its ID matched the vessel that Dan was on! She swung out to port then circled up and around to stay away from the converging ships and watched intently as it approached at sub-light. Instead of the Free Trader Treknar in all its rusty and pock marked glory that she’d expected to see, there was just the command section.​

As the part-ship came into range she detected transporter activity and four life forms, all registering as Orion, appeared on the bridge of target Oscar. It effectively sealed the ship’s fate. With no sign of Dan and his last transmission speaking of a compromised mission, Gray no longer worried about recovering the godforsaken cargo.​

She selected a pair of micro-torpedoes and targeted the thin neck of the vessel between the command and cargo section and fired. With no time to raise shields, the torpedoes broke the ships back with the cargo pod spinning erratically away from the command section. She finished the pod with a phaser volley then switched her attention back to the command section. Gray hadn’t intended serious damage to it, but she saw that life support was waning and the hull was compromised. The sudden blast of an internal explosion temporarily blinded her, and by the time her vision returned there was little left to see.​

Gray reset the weapons and swung the shuttle back on course to find Dan, never noticing the single emergency pod drifting amongst the scattered wreckage.​

FREE TRADER TREKNAR CARGO SECTION
FREE SPACE
SHENATH SECTOR
June 16th 2361​

By now Fishlock was sweating, his scans showing a confusing pattern to the energy in the circuits. It didn’t help matters that the two Orions had joined the pair of Ferengi and were watching him intently as he attempted to defuse the weapon.​

When a hand fell on his shoulder, he almost dropped the tricorder in panic. It was the first Orion he’d stunned in the engineering section, but rather than offering violence he spoke quietly.​

“Earther, I don’t know who you think we are, but we are innocents caught up in this as well.”​

Fishlock turned back to his scans and said sarcastically, “Really.”​

“I’m serious, and if you’ll let me stay here I think I may be able to help. Just let the others use an escape pod. The only thing they did wrong was accept a bad contract.”​

The fact that the big Orion was willing to stay said a lot for his genuine plea. It didn’t seem likely that a thug would sacrifice his own life in order to save his partners in crime. Fishlock finally nodded and the three hapless crew members disappeared down the corridor.​

As they went, Fishlock stepped aside and the Orion looked inside the panel. “Ah, very clever.”​

“What is?” Fishlock was perplexed that the only thing he’d seen that approached clever was the fact that the entire circuit collection was green with no colour clue as to what controlled what.​

As the Orion reached to his tool belt, Fishlock raised his disruptor. “Wait,” said the Orion raising both of his huge hands. “I need a tool that is all.”​

Fishlock nodded. “Carefully then.” He didn’t lower the disruptor and the Orion shook his head.​

“Just because I am Orion doesn’t make me a criminal Earther.” He withdrew what looked like a torch from the belt and shone it over the circuitry, though Dan saw no light at all. “Just because it is called the Orion Syndicate doesn’t mean that every Orion is a member. It would be like saying that every Earther is a member of the Mafia.” He pushed two wires aside and then clipped them out of the way. “They base themselves in the Orion Sector and so we all get tarred with the same brush when in fact…” More wires were pushed aside. “…there are more non-Orion members now than Orion.”​

He carefully took an ODN circuit splicer from his belt and looked at Fishlock. “So, do you trust me?” Fishlock paused before lowering the disruptor, and was on the verge of apologising when a blast from the corridor knocked them both to the floor. The initial blast reversed direction and suddenly air was being sucked past them towards an obvious hull breach. My God thought Dan horrified, she even booby trapped the escape pods!​

Fishlock grabbed the Orion’s arm and screamed “Do what you can,” before letting go and allowing himself to be pulled towards the blastdoor that should have dropped automatically following a breach. His outstretched hand caught the door seal and he slowly dragged himself up to the manual release panel, prising it open. Placing a foot on either side of the door frame to prevent himself being dragged outside, he heaved down on the handle and the heavy door slammed across. Bits of flotsam and debris drifted briefly around the sealed cargo entrance before gently settling to the deck, now deprived of their motive power as the cyclonic rush of escaping air had been cut off.​

Fishlock turned hoping to see the Orion working on the circuit but instead saw that he leaned against the wall with a threaded spike buried deep in his chest, hands still inside the wall opening and eyes wide in shock. He dragged himself over but immediately saw that it was too late for the Orion whose name, he belatedly realised, he didn’t even know.​

He threw a panicked glance at the timer which was frozen at 37 seconds. Frozen? He lifted himself to look inside the open panel and saw that the Orion had proven his words at the last, tearing apart two connections despite his fatal injury and effectively disarming the weapon. Fishlock sagged against the bulkhead and slowly slid to the deck. It seemed a long, long time before he heard Kat’s voice.​

USS CAWSTON HILL
SUBSPACE
EN ROUTE TO STARBASE 112
June 16th 2361​

Following Gray’s subspace distress call, the USS Cawston Hill, a border cutter patrolling the Shenath Sector, had arrived within two hours. One hundred and forty seven refugees were rescued from the abandoned cargo hold; cold, hungry, scared but alive.​

As they were being attended to by the ship’s limited medical staff, Fishlock heard a disparaging remark about “greenies and their sluts”. He spun to face a shocked security ensign who stepped back at the anger in Fishlock’s eyes.​

Rather than sensibly back down, the ensign tried to justify his slur. “Sorry sir but it was their type that murdered my brother on the Barrington.”​

Fishlock was furious. “Their type Ensign? What’s their type? The young children? Or the old women perhaps?”​

Flustered the ensign shrugged. “Just…Orions, they’re all bad news.”​

Fishlock came within a breath of striking the bigot when a shaven headed lieutenant stepped between them.​

“I’ll handle this one sir,” he said quietly and then sensibly dragged the ensign out of the room.​

As fast as his anger had arisen, it dissipated with fatigue and frustration taking its place instead. He slumped into a chair beside Kat who eyed him with concern.​

“He might have deserved it Dan, but striking a subordinate wouldn’t have changed his views.”​

He sighed and rubbed at his gritty eyes. “I know, I know. The worst thing is I might just as well have hit myself Kat. I honestly thought I didn’t stereotype people, but I misjudged so much on this mission because of my own preconceived notions. Maybe not as deep as his, but still…”​

He’d eventually learned from one of the medical staff that the reason the Orion engineer had been able to trace the circuits was down to the small torch device he’d used. Apparently the Orion visible spectrum was much more sensitive in the green band and the torch simply separated the different shades, enabling him to disarm the weapon.​

So many shades of green he thought to himself. And so many of them innocents.​

It was then that he made a vow, to himself and to all the innocents. That no matter how many different shades they happened to come in, they deserved protection. It was unlikely to come from those politicians who loudly and publicly claimed to represent and support their rights but who seldom followed up on that claim. It would have to be driven by somebody who had seen the pain and misery that could be caused when that responsibility was thoughtlessly foisted off on to others.​

He couldn’t be a guardian angel to them all, he knew, but the seed of an idea had been planted and it was one he intended to see through to its fruition.​

 

[Gibraltar]

Wow, Dan’s lucky to have escaped that situation as deftly as he did, given the circumstances. The Orion female played him for a chump there, and it appears she may have had the wherewithal to escape Kat’s efforts at killing her as well.

Knowing that he and Kat shared such missions in their past gives me a deeper appreciation for the bonds and loyalty they share. And Kat’s abortive admission to Fishlock leaves me wondering what other feelings may have gone unsaid?

The so many shades of green metaphor is a visceral one, highlighted by Dan’s betrayal and rescue, both at the hands of two very different Orions.

This is some really wonderful character-building work here!