Star Trek: Bounty - 9 - "But One Man of Her Crew Alive"

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Another literal cliff-hanger... You're giving CeeJay some competition. Really liking that the Flaxians aren't just bad guys all around and particularly liking Sonaya and her direct approach and grit.

“Getting you to answer them,” Sonaya replied with a firm glare.

Sums it up nicely. Another great installment - Sweet STO callback with the Mugato..

- Thanks!! rbs

 

[BountyTrek]

Part Four (Cont'd)

“Jirel!”

Klath’s latest bellowed call over the comms link garnered no response.

The Klingon stood alongside Sunek and Lieutenant Kataya, the three men leaning over the guardrail at the top of the warp core’s cavernous pit. They scanned the darkened depths below with their rifle torch lights, keeping the weapons raised as a result.

But all they saw was darkness. And all they heard was silence.

The Klingon swiftly turned his attention back to Kataya, who had barely said a word since he and Sunek had raced over to him to find out what was happening.

“What was it?” he grunted.

The Flaxian struggled to bring himself to respond, scarcely believing the answer himself.

“It was a…mugato.”

Klath’s glower deepened. Sunek just smirked.

“Really? A mugato? Great big hairy thing? Seven feet tall? Big old poison-tipped horn on its head? Don’t tell me, it was riding an armoured le-matya and juggling the Stone of Gol.”

“I'm telling you, that’s what I saw,” Kataya growled back.

“And I’m telling you that no matter how unreliable the lifesign readings are, I’m pretty sure we’d have picked up a giant ape monster by now.”

Klath remained silent, looking down again into the darkness. Kataya, still some way off the confident and antagonistic young Flaxian they had first encountered thanks to the tumultuous shocks he had endured on this salvage mission so far, persisted in his defence.

“I know what I saw,” he muttered, “Except…”

“Except what?” Klath pressed.

Another slight pause. This part of his report seemed fantastical, even to Kataya himself.

“Except…he was talking to it. Before I saw the mugato, I heard him talk to it.”

Klath kept his opinions as private as ever, but Sunek snorted again.

“Ok, so, sit-rep: You’ve gone totally insane.”

“I heard it!”

“Yeah, right. My great uncle Tovak heard plenty as well. Just before the Bendii Syndrome got the best of him.”

Klath turned back to them, his torch beams illuminating their reflective visors.

“We do not have time for this,” he pointed out, “We must try to save Jirel.”

“From the mugato?” Sunek replied sarcastically, eliciting a further angry glare from the Flaxian.

“From the fall,” the Klingon pointed out, finding himself in the unusual position of playing the role of peacemaker.

He gestured back to the yawning chasm next to the core where Jirel had fallen.

“We cannot descend down there. Too many of the platforms have been damaged. But we can use the access conduits to descend to the bottom of the ship.”

For a moment, it looked as though Sunek was about to continue to argue, but he ultimately nodded, having mainly been using his sarcastic responses to cover for his own worries about Jirel’s fate.

“Gets my vote,” he said, grasping his rifle a little tighter.

The two of them turned to Kataya, who reluctantly nodded as well.

“If we can’t get down via the maintenance platforms, we’ll need to try and get to the secondary power grid controls through the access conduits anyway. We can look for your friend at the same time.”

With a tentative agreement having been struck, Klath led the trio over to the nearest access hatch in the wall of the darkened engineering bay. With some help from Kataya, he quickly removed the hatch cover. Then, the pair of them reluctantly stowed their rifles behind their backs for the journey, before Kataya led them into the narrow, dark confines of the conduit.

“And remember,” the Flaxian offered, “Be on the lookout for a--”

“Mugato,” Sunek sighed with a roll of his eyes, “Got it.”

As Klath followed Kataya into the conduit, Sunek couldn’t help but circle a gloved finger around his ear in a cuckoo gesture. The lieutenant had clearly lost it.

But, just before he slung his own rifle behind his back and prepared to crawl after them, he double checked that it was set on the heaviest stun setting available.

There might be a mugato down there, after all.

****************************

Nothing.

There was nothing here at all. Just a perpetual, inky blackness.

Then, slowly, he began to resolve shapes in the darkness. Confusing, shadowy forms slowly began to coalesce. As he slowly blinked and tried to get a grip on where he was, he knew one thing for certain. He was still alive.

Though he wasn’t sure how long that would be the case.

He tried to lift himself up, knowing that the last thing he had been doing before the fall was fighting a murderous mugato. But he struggled to find the strength.

Slowly, his surroundings resolved themselves.

He was lying on his back in an awkwardly contorted position, at what appeared to be the very bottom of the warp core’s shaft.

He could barely see where he had fallen from. The vertical expanse of the core itself stretched up into an expanse of grim darkness above his head. The ship’s continued lack of power meant that there was no lighting to help him out. All around him were twisted pieces of metal from the collapsed platform and scaffolding that had come down with them.

There was no sign of the mugato anywhere. He couldn’t decide if that fact was either a source of comfort, or an incredibly unsettling development.

His view was now partially obscured by a sizeable crack in the visor of his suit’s helmet. Not that his suit’s integrity seemed to matter much any more. It was entirely compromised thanks to the mugato’s claws, and he was at the mercy of the derelict’s own emergency air supply.

He still felt a burning pain across his back and side where he had been mauled. As he shifted his weight, he was sure he felt a squelch from his blood-soaked clothing.

But somehow, thanks to the robustness of the suit he was wearing, he was alive. For now.

With a pained grimace, he tried again to force himself up off the deck, gritting his teeth against the agony that emanated from his wounded body as he did so. The pain was enough to cause him to stop again. Instead, he checked that the comms link on his suit was still open, and forced out a whisper.

“Hey, Klath? Sunek? Kataya? Anyone?”

A shrill burst of static filled his damaged helmet. For a horrible moment, he feared that it may have been irrevocably damaged in the fall. Or worse, he feared that the mugato had somehow got to the others.

“Jirel,” Klath’s voice came back eventually through the choppy link, relief clear in his voice, “You are alive.”

“Jury’s still out on that one. Where are you?”

“We are on our way to your location now.”

“Klath,” he coughed, “Be careful, ok? I don’t know where it is now, but there was a…mugato.”

There was a pause and another crackle of static. Jirel could just about make out Sunek’s voice for a moment, but he couldn’t tell what he was saying. Eventually, Klath’s booming voice returned.

“How badly are you injured? Can you move?”

The Trill braced himself against the pain and tried again to lift his weight, getting as far as mustering himself into a vaguely seated position.

“Just about,” he reported, “Remind me to thank Natasha for finding such an easy way to make our money back.”

The voice of Lieutenant Turanya replaced that of Klath.

“If you can move, aim for the bow of the ship. We’ll meet you there.”

“Got it,” Jirel managed in response, “I’ll see what I can do.”

The comms link clicked off in another shower of static. Jirel gritted his teeth again, before grunting and straining in renewed determination to get to his feet.

Eventually, using some of the scaffolding around him as leverage, he was able to clamber his way out, all the while doing his best to ignore the waves of pain from his injuries.

With some additional effort, he reached back and retrieved his phaser rifle from his back. It was badly scuffed and dented from the fall, but it still seemed to be operational. He knew he couldn’t risk drawing attention to himself by testing the firing mechanism, so for all he knew the weapon was useless. But he felt at least a tad more safe to have it in his hands.

Still, it wasn’t all good news. The torch attachment was shattered, along with those on his helmet, which meant that he had nothing but the scant amount of ambient light to illuminate his path. He peered through the twisted metal all around him, but saw no signs of movement.

Absently, he wondered if the fall might have been enough to kill his adversary. But he noted that if it hadn’t been enough to finish off an unjoined Trill, it probably wouldn’t have been enough to kill a fully-grown mugato.

Or possibly a small child. He still wasn’t entirely sure what it was that he had been fighting.

He checked his wrist-mounted tricorder to get an idea of where he should be heading, but the screen was smashed, the device inoperative.

With a sigh, and after another scan of the room, he picked a direction to head in. And with a wince, he began to limp across the room.

Only a few steps into his journey, he was sure he heard a noise.

He whirled around as quickly as his aching body could manage and kept his rifle level and true. But he couldn’t see anything.

Licking his lips and feeling the sweat beading on his brow, he squinted through the darkness in vain, then reluctantly turned back and staggered on, mentally preparing himself at any point for the sensation of the mugato pouncing on his prone form and finishing the job.

Just as it must have done with all of the poor souls he’d seen throughout the upper decks. And just how it somehow must have done with the crew of the Ret Kol.

He suppressed a fresh shudder and picked up his pace as best he could, spying a doorway ahead of him in the gloom. It wasn’t entirely clear where it would take him, but anywhere was better than here.

And then he heard another noise.

Except this one wasn’t unsettling. It was comforting. And very familiar.

And it came through loud and clear over the comms system.

“Jirel?”

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Love the back and forth about "A mugato? Seriously?" Keep it coming - Thanks!! rbs

 

[BountyTrek]

Part Four (Cont'd)

The Sud Yot hung gently in space, having temporarily paused in its desperate journey towards the stricken derelict.

It was positioned next to a large rectangular metal object, dominated at one end by a vast array of subspace transmitters. One of several such arrays dotted around the surrounding space, and one of the most extensive projects undertaken by the Flaxian Science Agency.

The network of deep space transmitters allowed a steady flow of subspace comms traffic throughout Flaxian space, with messages flitting between ships, stations, shuttles and planets. And right now, the Sud Yot was using it to amplify and focus their own comms signal.

On the bridge of the cruiser, Captain Sonaya watched on from her command chair as Natasha stood over the expansive port-side communications console, with Denella frantically tapping at the controls alongside her.

Sonaya knew that a few of her officers were put out by their passengers appearing on the bridge like this. Her crew weren’t quite as grizzled as Captain Grinya’s, but they were still a proud and often prickly group. Still, given what she had heard from Commander Turanya, and given the speed with which the Orion had come up with her plan, she was happy to give them the space to work.

Denella finished her frantic work and looked over at the human woman next to her.

“Ok, I’ve got us tied into the array’s main booster. You’re patched in and targeted to any open comms line in or around our target point. Even in a spacesuit.”

“If there’s anyone there to hear me,” Natasha replied quietly.

“They’ll be there. They’re survivors, remember?”

Natasha accepted the supportive words with a slight nod, still feeling a sense of dread as she looked down at the controls in front of her.

Ever since things had started to go wrong, a nagging voice at the back of her head had been persistently reminding her that this had all been her idea. She’d been the one who had negotiated their participation in the salvage work in return for their debts to Turanya.

And she would be responsible if anything had happened to the others.

With some sense of trepidation, she licked her lips, reached out and slowly pressed her finger down on the panel to open the comms link.

“Jirel?”

Nothing. Her sense of guilt rose further as she feared the worst.

“Klath? Sunek? If you can hear me--”

“I can hear you, Nat.”

The sound of the familiar voice of the Trill coming back over the link caused her to instinctively break out in a look of relief. A look that was noted by Denella with a trace of knowing amusement before she could return her features back to business mode.

“I’m still here,” Jirel continued after a burst of static, “So are Klath, Sunek and Lieutenant Kataya. But, everyone else…”

Behind Natasha and Denella, Captain Sonaya dug her fingernails into the arms of her command chair. Jirel, his voice sounding weak and pained, continued.

“How are you even talking to me right now--?”

“Long story,” Natasha replied quickly, forcing herself to stay in business mode, “But you need to know, on the derelict, there’s a--”

“Mugato. I know. We’ve met.”

Natasha and Denella exchanged a slightly confused look, before the doctor continued.

“No, Jirel, listen: It’s a chameloid.”

A long pause. Long enough for Denella to furtively double check that they hadn’t dropped their connection with the array.

“A what?” Jirel replied eventually.

“A chameloid. A shapeshifter.”

“Huh. Like one of those Dominion fellas?”

“No, not exactly,” Natasha explained, “The Founders are a semi-collective species, non-humanoid in their natural state. Chameloids are individual humanoids, with shapeshifting abilities.”

Another pause. Denella was sure she could hear the sound of the cogs in Jirel’s brain turning over.

“So,” he offered, “This thing could be a little girl one minute, and a mugato the next? It could even…turn into Captain Grinya and fool the crew of the Ret Kol?”

“It could.”

“And it could even disguise itself from tricorder readings somehow? Cos we’ve been walking round this crate for hours, and we’ve definitely not detected any chameloids. Whatever one of those is.”

“Possibly,” Natasha replied, “We still know so little about them. Frankly, until about eighty years ago, they were still assumed to be mythical.”

“Fascinating,” he grunted back, through pain and heavy sarcasm, “Important thing is: A phaser can still take it down, regardless of what it’s dressed up as, right?”

Natasha glanced over at Denella with concern. She sighed.

“Jirel, listen, whatever it’s done, it’s just a child. It’s scared.”

“That makes two of us.”

“The Flaxians were…experimenting on it. I don’t know how badly, but…you need to understand that it’s just frightened, and probably confused. And--”

There was a sudden burst of static over the link. Denella tapped at the controls and shook her head in frustration.

“We’re losing the link,” she reported, “Comms lines are shorting out all over the ship. Was only ever going to be a short-term thing.”

Natasha nodded, then found that she couldn’t help but call out one final message to the Trill across the ether.

“And Jirel, stay safe. We’re on our way.”

Her words were met with silence, as the link finally died.

****************************

“Natasha?”

There was no answer.

Jirel had passed through the door and into a corridor beyond, with still only the vaguest sense that he was heading in the right direction. As he listened to the silence that followed his question, he stifled a fresh feeling of pain, not just from the wounds on his back and his side, but from the sensation of being alone again.

He tried not to dwell on that feeling, nor on wondering how much it had been triggered by hearing Natasha’s voice specifically, and kept limping on with his rifle raised.

Instead, he started to think about what she had just told him. About how this thing that seemed to be hunting them wasn’t a murderer or a psychopath. Or even a monstrous fur-covered mugato. But a terrified child.

He thought back to the damage he and Kataya had seen in the science labs earlier. The way it felt as though something had burst out of there, splitting the bulkhead asunder. It had seemed like the actions of a violent monster. Something gruesome that had wrenched its way out of containment to slaughter the Flaxians onboard. And something that had just nearly killed him, and could be stalking him right now.

But after hearing Natasha’s explanation, he pieced together a different view.

They could have been the actions of a frightened child, reacting on instinct. Trying to escape, to get away from the people that were hurting it. He remembered the child-like way the girl had spoken to him. And he couldn’t help but feel like things weren’t quite as they appeared.

He checked his comms link was still active as he limped down the dark corridor towards the next intersection.

“Guys, you hear all that?”

Static. Then a response.

“Yep,” Sunek piped up, “And I told you, it wasn’t a mugato. So once again, I’m right, and everyone else is--”

Another burst of static. Eventually, a more measured response came back.

“We heard,” Klath confirmed, “We are nearly at the lower level.”

“Ok, but, that all made sense, right? What Natasha was saying about this…chameloid?”

“Jirel,” Klath grunted, clearly in no mood for having this debate, “I suggest we concentrate on getting to the bow. Then we can devise a strategy to defeat our enemy.”

“But it sounds like you were right,” Jirel replied, grimacing as he took another painful step forward.

This seemed to give the Klingon reason to pause for a moment.

“I do not understand,” the reply came eventually.

“You said we were up against an intelligence, not a beast,” he reminded him, “And if that’s what this intelligence is, some scared child a million miles from home, then maybe we’ve got a chance to…reason with it?”

“Before or after it chews your face off?” Sunek glibly cut in.

As Jirel struggled for a response to that remark, he heard Lieutenant Turanya jumping in as well, his tone back to something approaching his old grizzled roughness.

“We can’t reason with it, Jirel. You’ve seen what it can do. What’s it’s already done. So we regroup, and then we kill it.”

“Except,” Jirel persisted, “It’s wiped out two crews at this point, and we’ve barely got a shot off. Maybe we need a different plan--”

“No!” Kataya cut in again, “We’re not reasoning with it. Especially not after what it did to the Ret Kol. And to Captain Grinya.”

Jirel stopped himself from firing off a quick retort, taking a moment to grimly appreciate the losses that Kataya had suffered at the hands of the chameloid. For a moment, static-flecked silence descended over their link.

“Jirel,” Klath’s measured voice returned eventually, “You are injured. Focus on getting to us.”

“Right,” he sighed, “That’s what I’m doing.”

“Good.”

With that, the comms link went quiet, as each side of the conversation returned to their more pressing tasks.

Jirel approached another intersection. His head was still filled with thoughts of what they were dealing with. Of what Natasha had told them. He wondered if there really was some way to reason with the chameloid.

He certainly hoped there was. Because as he turned the corner, he saw her again.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Jirel may be the only person who can survive her at this point... Nice story crafting - Thanks!! rbs

 

[BountyTrek]

Part Four (Cont'd)

She hadn’t expected to fall.

In all of her work so far since she had made her escape, she hadn’t really hurt herself. At least, not beyond a few scratches. But the fall had definitely hurt her. The pain had shocked her.

It was true that she healed quickly. Any injuries she had sustained were now gone, absorbed back into her body. But still, the experience had thrown her off. It had made her want to run away, and it had made her cry. It had made her yearn to be comforted by her mother. And that feeling of loneliness had made her even more upset.

So she had retreated to the shadows once again, as she decided on a new plan. She knew that she needed to be more rational in her actions, she needed to think things through more. Not act quite so instinctively as she had before the fall.

She opted to lie in wait.

And it didn’t take long before he reached her. And they saw each other.

And she started to transform.

****************************

Jirel raised his rifle as soon as he saw her.

He felt disconcerted to be pointing the weapon at a small, dusky-skinned child. But he wasn’t doing that for very long. Almost as soon as he rounded the corner, she began to change. Her face began to fold in on itself again as her body grew and contorted.

He watched on through the smashed visor of his helmet. His finger tensed on the trigger. Time seemed to be slowing down.

It’s just a child.

The chameloid’s form grew further as its new form fully resolved in front of the Trill.

It’s a terrifying mugato.

The monster in front of him prepared to charge, claws raised and horn lowered. At the same time, he prepared to fire.

It had already wiped out the crew of the derelict. Used its shape-shifting powers to trick the Ret Kol’s crew and destroy the cruiser. It had slaughtered Captain Grinya and Lieutenant Deroya. It had nearly killed him, and was now ready to finish the job.

But it was just a child. That was what Natasha had told him.

Jirel’s brow was thick with sweat. The wounds on his back and side ached. His spots itched like never before. His finger wavered on the trigger.

The mugato roared. And it charged.

He had no idea what to do. And so, he took a deep breath, and placed his trust in two things he had developed an unshakable trust in.

Natasha’s conscience. And his powers of negotiation.

****************************

She was used to the reactions by now.

She remembered how scared she had been when she had first broken out. When she had seen the look on the face of the first one she had killed.

It had been awful enough that she had wanted to stop there. But they had kept on coming for her, trying to find her, wherever she had hidden away.

And before that, they had hurt her. They had hurt her so much that she found she had the urge and the strength to keep going. To punish them. Every single one of them.

Some she had taken by surprise. Some had tried to fight back. Some had begged for their lives. But each reaction had one thing in common. A look of horror. And none of the reactions had ever caused her to stop doing what she had to do.

Until now.

She charged at the man in front of her. And he reacted by throwing the bulky rifle in his hands to one side, and lifting his hands above his head.

She stopped her charge on the spot, and cocked her head, fur and horn and all, in curiosity.

The man kept his eyes focused on her, as he placed his hands either side of the strange adornment he wore over his head and lifted it clean off with a slight hissing sound.

She saw his face more clearly now, and noted the two lines of spots running down the side of his face that she had seen earlier.

And then she saw him open his mouth, and speak.

“I’m not like the others!”

****************************

Jirel stared back at the mugato, which was oddly frozen in place.

He held his broken helmet above his head, after he had removed it. And he stared back at the giant ape-like creature that stood barely five feet away from him.

He wasn’t sure how he was coming across to the mugato/chameloid, but he hoped that he was approximating enough of a look of trust, and of appeasement. He also hoped that he didn’t need to keep his hands raised for too long. His back was already aching from his injuries. And this fresh exertion wasn’t helping.

As the huge creature stared back at him, he also started to worry that he’d made entirely the wrong call. That he should have just pulled the trigger there and then, rather than tossing his only defence to one side.

Then, just as the pain became unbearable, the mugato folded in on itself. It began to shrink. And before he knew it, he was staring back at the altogether less immediately threatening form of the little girl in the dark green dress.

He couldn’t remember how long he had been holding his breath for, but he took a grateful deep lungful of air.

“No,” the girl said simply, “You’re not like the others.”

As she gazed curiously at his spots, Jirel gently lowered his helmet down to his side, glad of the respite, but careful not to make any sudden movements.

“Glad you agree,” he offered back, “Cos those Flaxians aren’t exactly lookers, you know?”

He tried a friendly smile, but she just stared back at him in confusion. He elected to change to a different approach.

“Jirel. My name’s Jirel. What’s yours?”

The girl scrunched up her face, like she was trying to remember some sort of half-forgotten fact she’d once learned at school.

“Mireia,” she said eventually, with a nod of certainty.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mireia.”

He suppressed another pained flinch from his wounds, a timely reminder that this wasn’t technically the first time they’d met. For her part, Mireia stared at him with a child-like inquisitiveness.

“The others never asked what my name was,” she said quietly, “The others were mean to me. Are you going to be mean?”

“No. I’m not going to be mean.”

Her eyes drifted over to the bulky phaser rifle that lay discarded on the ground. She still wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but her instincts told her not to trust it.

“Then why do you have that?” she asked.

Jirel considered the somewhat glib and unerring child-like directness of the question, trying to keep his answer as honest, but as non-confrontational as possible.

“For…protection. But I promise I’m not gonna hurt you. Nor are my friends.”

Mireia pondered this for a moment, then saw the Trill’s latest pained grimace.

“I hurt you,” she pointed out.

Further weakened, Jirel gently lowered himself into a crouch to try and deal with the pain. He noted Mireia copying his movement, sitting down across from him and crossing her legs.

“I know,” he sighed eventually, “But I guess you were scared, weren’t you.”

She nodded.

“Well,” he continued, “People can do things like that when they’re scared.”

This provoked another thoughtful look on the child’s dusky face, as she mulled his comment over.

“The others,” she asked, “The ones who hurt me. Tested me. Studied me. Punished me if I did the wrong thing. Were they scared?”

“Maybe,” Jirel nodded, “Maybe they were scared because you’re not like them. You’re different. Something they hadn’t seen before.”

“And that’s why they hurt me?”

“That’s why a hell of a lot of people hurt a hell of a lot of other people, Mireia.”

She took in the enormity of this statement as best she could. She felt a sudden pang of sadness for everything that had happened. And she felt alone.

“Some people took me,” she whispered eventually, “A long time ago. From my parents. I don’t know where they are now.”

“I guess we’ve got that in common,” the orphan Trill offered, “I don’t know where my parents are either.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Can’t even remember them. I mean, I did end up getting some new parents, which…”

He paused, as he thought about his adoptive parents back on Earth. His late mother, and his mostly estranged father, Admiral Bryce Jenner of Starfleet.

“...Which is a whole other thing we don’t have time for right now. But I can help you, ok? Maybe we can find you some new parents as well?”

“I don’t want new parents,” she countered, “I want my parents.”

Jirel nodded back in understanding.

“I get it. Well, I’m sure I can help you with that as well. Just as long as you help me and my friends out, and you don’t hurt us. Ok?”

Mireia stared back at him with her vibrant yellow eyes. Jirel offered a friendly smile through the pain, glad to be making some progress and suddenly feeling as safe as he’d felt since they had first beamed onboard the derelict.

And then, out of nowhere, the others rounded the corner.

****************************

She didn’t know exactly why, but she felt as though she could trust this man.

His words were calming and comforting. And ever since he had thrown away his curious weapon, he had made no attempt to retrieve it.

She had been tricked before in similar ways. But this time, it didn’t feel like a trick. This time, it felt genuine. And for the first time in as long as she could remember, she allowed herself to feel safe.

Then, she heard a noise behind her.

She turned, to see three figures turning the corner, their own weapons raised.

And she realised that she’d been mistaken. It had been a trap.

And she prepared to attack.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Now is the test of Jirel's negotiating skills... Great story - keep it up - Thanks!! rbs

 

[Bynar0110]

I been enjoying all of recent posts. Keep up the good work.

 

[BountyTrek]

Part Four (Cont'd)

“No!”

Jirel cried out as soon as he saw Klath, Sunek and Lieutenant Kataya round the corner.

With reserves of strength he hadn’t even been aware he had, the Trill forced himself back onto his feet and surged forwards across the darkened corridor.

“Don’t shoot!” he added despairingly.

Mireia was already mid-transformation. The small child growing back into the white-furred monster from before. The rifles remained raised. The mugato solidified.

And Jirel dragged himself in between the two sides of the fight with a final burst of exertion, the wounds on his body crying out at the latest sudden movement they had been subjected to.

“No!” he said again, staring back at the mugato’s oddly yellow eyes, “Mireia, please. No.”

There was no obvious response, but the mugato remained where it was, breathing softly and not attacking for now. Jirel whirled back to the others, still sealed inside their suits, and called out again.

“Guys, please, weapons down, helmets off, ok?”

The three figures kept their weapons raised. Jirel heard Kataya over his suit’s external speaker.

“Out of the way, Jirel,” he grunted, “What the hell are you doing?”

Jirel stood his ground and ignored him, focusing on Klath in the middle of the trio.

“Klath, come on. She’s scared. She needs to trust us. So let’s show some trust ourselves, hmm? And besides, she’s just a child. Where’s the honour in shooting a child?”

He saw something flicker in the Klingon’s face. In his head, Klath wrestled with the blood lust he felt when confronted by their quarry, and his faith in his long-time friend and colleague. Eventually, and reluctantly, he lowered his weapon. It dropped to the floor with a clatter.

Slowly, the hulking Klingon reached to unlatch his helmet with a telltale hiss of air. The mugato watched on silently as he removed it and revealed his scowling features beneath.

Jirel mustered a thankful smile, then glanced at Sunek. The Vulcan didn’t look entirely convinced, but his rifle joined Klath’s on the ground, and his helmet came off as well.

“Just FYI,” he offered to Jirel, “If this little plan gets us all murdered, I’ll kill you.”

Jirel smiled wider, then looked at Kataya. The Flaxian’s weapon was still raised. A look of fierce determination was still there in his eyes.

“Hey,” the Trill said calmly, “Lieutenant, please just--”

“This thing killed Captain Grinya!” Kataya’s voice sounded out from the tinny speaker, “And Deroya, and Rondya, and everyone else! Dozens and dozens of Flaxians!”

Behind him, Jirel heard the mugato softly growl. He took another step through the tense atmosphere towards the angry lieutenant, keeping himself between the rifle and Mireia.

“Step aside, for god’s sake!” the Flaxian spat.

“Can’t do that,” Jirel replied, “I’m sorry. And she’s sorry. For everything that’s happened here. And for everything you’ve lost. But what Commander Turanya was having your people do to this little girl was wrong as well. And she was just defending herself.”

The Flaxian’s weapon shook slightly. Jirel took another half step forwards with his weakened body.

“Plus, I think I’m pretty much done with dealing with dead bodies today, Lieutenant. So, I guess, if you really want revenge, you’re gonna have to shoot me as well.”

To his side, Klath tensed up. Even Sunek couldn’t bring himself to fire off a quip. Kataya stared at Jirel, and Jirel stared back. Even the Trill was a little taken aback at where this latest negotiation had taken him.

A wave of emotion passed over the Flaxian’s features, and he faltered. The rifle slowly lowered, and then clattered to the ground with a sense of finality. He reached up and removed his helmet.

Jirel gave him a thankful nod, then turned back to Mireia, who had turned back from her mugato form to that of the little girl in the green dress. She pointed at Kataya as his face was revealed.

“He is like the others,” she muttered, with a hint of fear in her voice.

“No,” Jirel smiled softly, “He’s not. Are you, Kataya?”

Behind him, the Flaxian stared down at the girl, and shook his head. The fear in her yellow eyes eased off ever so slightly at this gesture.

Jirel breathed a sigh of relief. Negotiation complete.

As the tension eased, Sunek stepped over to the weary Trill and patted him on the shoulder.

“Gotta hand it to ya, Jirel. That was pretty badass.”

“Good,” he managed with an awkward nod, “Cos this is gonna be a hell of a lot less badass.”

With no more strength left to give, the wounded Trill stumbled and slumped into the surprised Vulcan’s arms.

****************************

“I had no idea.”

Kataya shook his head in disbelief at what he was hearing, as Mireia told her story to the group as best she could.

They had returned to the bridge of the derelict to wait for the rescue party on the Sud Yot to arrive, with Klath carrying the exhausted and bloodied Jirel most of the way. The Trill was now slumped in the single central chair on the bridge, after Sunek had mustered some rudimentary triage to his wounds with an emergency medkit.

Klath rigidly stood to his side, while Sunek leaned on the forward helm console and Kataya slowly paced around the perimeter of the room. Mireia herself sat cross-legged on the deck, having finished her tale of how she had been taken by the Flaxian Science Agency.

“There was nothing honourable here,” Klath muttered, “Only savagery.”

“Yeah, well,” Sunek added with a shrug, “Wouldn’t be the first time someone had crossed a whole buttload of lines in the name of science.”

He didn’t expand further on his comment, but he couldn’t help but think of Doctor Sevik.

Several months ago, when he had fallen under the mind meld-induced influence of Sokar, a former colleague from the V’tosh ka’tur, he had been shown images and memories of the treatments that Sokar had endured as a youth at the hands of an old Vulcan doctor.

To this day, he still wasn’t entirely sure how factual the images had been, and how much they had been embellished by the mildly deranged Sokar. But embellished or not, the memory of the agonising emotional purges had left a lasting impact on him. One that he was still dealing with, in private, and in his ongoing meditation sessions with Denella back on the Bounty.

As Sunek suppressed a shudder at those half-memories, Kataya continued to pace around the bridge, shaking his head as he walked.

“And all of this was authorised by Commander Turanya?”

“Apparently,” Jirel replied weakly, “Came right from the top.”

“I can’t believe it,” the Flaxian muttered with another shake of his head, “That the Flaxian Science Agency would resort to trafficking and this sort of experimentation…”

Mireia stayed silent. She didn’t know who Commander Turanya was, nor what the Flaxian Science Agency was. So she left Kataya to his moralistic quandary.

The uncomfortable silence that followed was broken, as so many uncomfortable silences were, by Sunek.

“Hey,” he said to Mireia with a grin, “You know that trick you do?”

The chameloid looked a little confused, but the Vulcan persisted.

“Well, can you, y’know, be me?”

She looked over at the shabby, tousle-haired Vulcan. And Sunek’s grin widened, as moments later, he was staring back across at himself, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Yes,” Mireia/Sunek nodded in her usual child’s voice.

“Awesome,” Sunek/Sunek replied.

“Hey, Mireia,” Jirel coughed weakly, “Please don’t do that. The galaxy really, really doesn’t need two Suneks.”

“Agreed,” Klath growled.

Mireia obediently turned back into her usual form, just in time to see the original Sunek stick his tongue out at the Klingon. She giggled. It was the first time she had made that sound in a long time. And it surprised even her to hear it.

“I do have a question,” Jirel said to her, “Why a mugato?”

She pondered that for a second, then shrugged her tiny shoulders.

“My parents taught me how to do that,” she explained, “When I was very young. They told me to use it if I ever got scared. Or threatened.”

Jirel noted the pang of anguish on the still-pacing Kataya’s face as he heard her response.

“My parents,” Mireia continued, in a smaller voice, “Can I go back to my parents now? Can I go home?”

The pointed question hung in the air with enough gravity to cause Kataya to stop pacing. The chameloid looked around at the grim expressions on the faces of the others.

“I…don’t know,” Kataya replied eventually.

The Flaxian had no good answer to this. He knew that the Agency would want answers to what had happened here. Too many people had died for this to just be ignored by them.

“Where is home?” Jirel asked, filling the silence.

Now it was Mireia’s turn to struggle to find an answer. Inside, her instincts came back to her, the same ones that had allowed her to survive for so long, and do so much.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, “But…I think I know the way.”

She looked back around. The expressions hadn’t changed. Her words became a plea.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m really sorry. I was scared! I didn’t mean to do any of it!”

On the other side of the room, Kataya looked back at the frightened child. The one that had killed so many of his colleagues.

“No,” he replied sadly, “You didn’t, did you?”

She looked down at the deck in front of her and her lip quivered slightly.

“I…just want to go home.”

The four grownups in the room shifted uncomfortably. None of them were quite sure how to break the news that there might be plenty more questions to be asked yet.

“We’ll, um, see what we can do,” Jirel managed eventually.

At this, Mireia’s eyes widened a little. Her body seemed to tense up.

“What does that mean?”

Jirel searched for the right answer. How to explain to the young child that whatever had just happened was probably going to take a while to fully resolve, even after they had been rescued by the others. And how to do it without frightening her further.

But before he could say anything, Lieutenant Kataya stepped forwards. He’d been thinking for some time. About everything that he had seen here, and everything that Commander Turanya and the Flaxian Science Agency had apparently been doing.

And he knew that, regardless of the extenuating circumstances, there was going to be some serious investigating done after this. After all, the chameloid was now responsible for the deaths of dozens of Flaxians, and the loss of two vessels. The little girl in front of him would likely have to answer for that, at least to some extent.

And that was when he’d had his idea.

“Actually,” he replied with a slightly grim look, “We might be able to do quite a lot.”

Jirel, Sunek and Klath looked back at him with confusion. Mireia gazed up at him where she sat cross-legged on the floor.

He met her look with a slight smile. And then he started to explain his plan.

End of Part Four

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

“Good,” he managed with an awkward nod, “Cos this is gonna be a hell of a lot less badass.”

Great hero moment for Jirel. Great hero's journey here - beat him up and drag him through the mud first. Looks like Kataya might be about to have a hero moment too.

Thanks!! rbs

 

[BountyTrek]

Part Five

The Sud Yot drifted next to the derelict, which remained a picture of serenity that belied the frenzy of activity going on all around it. As soon as the cruiser had arrived, two operations had begun, both pre-prepared and coordinated by Captain Sonaya.

One oversaw the remaining work that still had to be done on the derelict, rescuing the survivors and finishing off the salvage work that had begun two days ago. The other worked from onboard the Sud Yot to recover whatever debris was left of the Ret Kol, the few recoverable pieces still drifting in the surrounding space.

Sonaya sat behind her desk in her ready room, now entirely in charge of operations. Commander Turanya remained under lock and key in the brig, continuing to argue his innocence and threaten career-ending consequences to anyone who passed by.

In front of her stood the reunited crew of the Bounty, the altogether relieved Natasha and Denella alongside Jirel, Sunek and Klath, who had changed back into their usual civilian garb. Jirel’s injuries were now on the mend, thanks to the efforts of Natasha and the medical team on the Sud Yot.

But Captain Sonaya didn’t seem especially interested in that. Instead, she looked more perturbed as they finished their report.

“I see,” she nodded with a note of sadness, “And Lieutenant Kataya volunteered to carry out that plan?”

“That’s right,” Jirel nodded gingerly, still feeling the effects of the Flaxian dermal regenerator on his back, “He lured the chameloid into the aft airlock. After which, he was able to blow the outer hatch. Both of them were sucked out--”

“Blown out.”

“Shut up, Sunek. Both of them were killed, Captain. I’m sorry.”

Sonaya sighed deeply and leaned back in her chair, studying the faces of the Trill, the Klingon and the Vulcan in turn. The only survivors of one of the worst disasters in the history of the Flaxian Science Agency. And three people that her instincts told her were not giving her the full story.

But unfortunately for her, and for her official report into what happened on the derelict, they were also her only three reliable witnesses.

“I see,” she nodded simply.

She picked up a padd from the desk, which contained the initial report from her own salvage team. The derelict’s aft airlock was indeed open, and the controls seemed to have been activated from the inside. And while the search team had located plenty of grisly remains, there had been no sign of Kataya, nor of the chameloid.

Still, as Sonaya looked back up at the Trill’s entirely believable face, she still felt as though she wasn’t being told everything.

“Well,” she continued eventually, with a curt nod, “Thank you for your candour in this matter. And on behalf of the Flaxian Science Agency, I offer my sincere apologies for what you’ve been through. Trust me when I say this isn’t how we usually conduct ourselves.”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Sunek grunted with his usual sarcasm.

“Our work here will continue for another 24 hours, after which we’ll return to Reja Gar. I hope you’ll use this time to rest and recuperate in the cabin we’ve provided.”

“You can count on that,” Jirel nodded with a wince.

Sonaya scanned their faces again, but they still betrayed nothing. The Trill took the opportunity to continue.

“Um, there was one other thing. Could we…get our ship back?”

“Ah, yes,” Sonaya replied, “Well, given what has happened with Commander Turanya, I believe it would be fair for me to release your vessel back to you once we return to the station.”

She paused, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Although, I really wouldn’t count on any more delivery jobs from the Flaxian Science Agency any time soon.”

“We get that a lot,” Sunek quipped from next to Jirel.

Sonaya raised a curious eyebrow, then dismissed them and watched the motley group walk out of her ready room. After a moment of contemplation, she tapped the console terminal in front of her.

“Computer,” she intoned, “Make a correction to the official list of casualties.”

“Please state the required correction,” the calm and dulcet male voice of the Sud Yot’s computer came back.

“Correction is as follows: List both Lieutenant Kataya and the package as ‘missing’,”

The computer politely chirped back an affirmation.

****************************

“Ok, gotta ask: Is anyone a snorer?”

Sunek looked accusingly at the others from the top bunk of one of the beds in the barracks that the Bounty’s crew had been assigned on the Sud Yot.

“Cos,” he continued, “I’m a light sleeper, and if I don’t get my eight hours, I’ll be crabby all day tomorrow. And it’ll be someone here’s fault. I’m looking at you, big guy.”

Klath rolled his eyes and dutifully continued to strip his own chosen bunk of any manner of comfort, right down to the hard metal frame.

“I’m gonna be glad to be back in my own cabin,” Jirel winced as he lay propped up on a lower bunk as Natasha checked over his back, “Also, to be on a ship with less mugatos on it.”

“Wasn’t a mugato,” Sunek called out, “No matter how many times you say it.”

“So,” Denella chimed in from where she sat on one of the other beds, “Now we’re all alone, are we gonna get the whole story?”

“What do you mean?” Klath asked, as he settled down on the bare frame of his bunk.

“About the chameloid,” the Orion continued, “What really happened. Cos there’s no way that airlock story is true.”

“That’s what happened,” Jirel insisted, “I swear, that was--Ow!”

“Sorry,” Natasha sighed as she worked, “And…I’m sorry for getting you involved in all of this in the first place. If I’d have known--”

“But you didn’t,” Jirel cut in gently, his feelings for her taking the decision not to allow himself to twist the knife into the doctor’s guilt, “Besides, I might keep those scars. Girls dig scars, right? And once I say I got them fighting a mugato--”

“Wasn’t a mugato!”

“I’m serious,” Denella persisted through the bickering, “What happened?”

Jirel craned his aching neck to glance at the other survivors from the salvage team. Sunek yawned, while Klath shrugged.

“We’ll tell you later,” the Trill replied eventually, “When we’ve gotten the hell out of Flaxian space.”

In truth, there wasn’t a great deal to tell. Turanya’s plan had been fairly straightforward.

With time on their side before the Sud Yot had arrived, they had been able to work together to recharge a set of power cells for one of the shuttles, and cannibalise enough spare parts from the other wrecked support vessels to get one working.

Then, using his spacesuit for protection, Kataya had gone through the process of manually activating the aft airlock, just as their story to Sonaya had claimed.

With that completed, all that was left to do was for Mireia to start her journey home. With her guardian at her side.

Kataya had come to the conclusion that, given what he had seen of how the Agency had treated the chameloid, the least he could do was help her get home. And so he had piloted the repaired shuttle himself.

It was likely that Sonaya and her team would eventually piece together what had happened. They simply hadn’t had the resources or the expertise to cover all of their tracks. But by then, the shuttle would be long gone. And hopefully, Kataya’s passenger would get home.

As Natasha continued to check over his injuries, Jirel couldn’t help but allow himself a satisfied smile.

Even as Sunek started to gently snore on the top bunk.

****************************

Two weeks later…

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

Turanya grimaced in annoyance as the air circulator on the ceiling continued to rattle. Just as it had done all night long. He had complained about it repeatedly, but so far nobody had been sent along to repair it.

The former commander’s fall from grace was such that he couldn’t pull rank on anyone right now either. He was at the mercy of the maintenance team at the holding facility where he was currently being kept, awaiting trial.

He lay on the small bed in the mostly bare cell that he had been assigned, and closed his eyes, trying to block out the noise and get some sleep. But it was impossible.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

He opened his eyes and glared up at the offending unit, before getting up and stalking back over to the door of the cell.

“Hey!” he called out through the door, “Is anyone coming to repair this thing? Even prisoners have rights, you know!”

There was no immediate response from the guards outside, and as he walked back to the bed he began to wonder whether this was all part of his punishment.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

Not that he was overly concerned by any real punishment coming his way. He was confident that the higher-ups at the Agency would be lenient with him. After all, everything he had done had been in the pursuit of scientific advancement. They would understand that.

And if they didn’t, then they would definitely understand the generous donations he had already arranged to be made to each of the members of the hearing in turn. Turanya knew how to grease the right wheels when necessary.

So, despite his current incarceration, he was confident that this would all be smoothed over. And once his rank had been reinstated, he’d get back to Reja Gar, and he’d do his damndest to pick up where he left off.

While he’d been detained, he had even started to consider the retribution that he’d hand out to Captain Sonaya for her decision to have him placed under arrest.

At the very least, he’d see that she lost her command. He just wasn’t sure if he’d rather have her turfed out of the Agency altogether, or whether he’d rather see her demoted back down to junior lieutenant, forced to endure the endless humiliation of serving out the rest of her career in the lower ranks.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

He grimaced again, just as he heard the cell door opening. He sat up in bed expectantly, to see a burly Flaxian in a detention centre uniform walk in.

“Ah,” Turanya sighed, “About time. You from maintenance?”

The other Flaxian stared at him for a few seconds, before he nodded back.

“Well,” Turanya continued, gesturing at the circulator, “That thing's been driving me mad all night, so get it fixed!”

The other Flaxian looked up at the circulator, then back down at Turanya. He tapped the door controls and closed the cell once again.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

Turanya felt a little unnerved all of a sudden, feeling a stray trickle of sweat start to make its way down the back of his neck.

“Hey, where are your tools?” he asked, “Aren’t you going to need them to do the job?”

His new cellmate still didn’t speak. He slowly began to walk over to where Turanya sat. He stood up and took a nervous step back.

“Wh--What are you doing? Listen, whatever the problem is, I’m sure we can--”

It was then that he saw the other Flaxian’s brilliant, piercing yellow eyes.

“No…”

The other man continued to advance.

“Guards!” Turanya called out, “You need to get in here! Get in here, right now!”

His eyes opened wide in horror as he saw the other Flaxian’s face start to fold in on itself.

His screams were drowned out by the noise from the air circulator.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

****************************

The shuttle lifted off from the surface of the Petrik IX detention facility and ascended back into the heavens.

From the pilot’s seat, Kataya glanced at the little girl alongside him. She hadn’t said anything since she had returned, but she looked satisfied and happier with herself than she had been before, as she swung her legs off the side of the co-pilot’s chair.

And while this hadn't been part of his original plan, Kataya couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction as well. After all, whatever had happened to his friends and his colleagues, and whatever had become of the morals of the Flaxian Science Agency that he had left behind, the ultimate blame for everything he had lost lay with Commander Turanya.

So he had used his security clearance to get them to the facility. Clearances that were still working thanks to the slow-moving bureaucracy of the Agency.

After all, there was no hurry to delete the clearance codes of a dead man.

“All done?” he eventually asked as the shuttle reached orbit.

Mireia turned to him and nodded happily. Just as a child might if asked whether they had finished all of their homework.

Kataya nodded back, then turned his attention to the starscape in front of them. He still wasn’t entirely sure where they were heading, but he had left their journey at the mercy of the little girl’s instincts.

She wasn’t sure how far away it was, or how long it would take. But then Kataya didn’t mind that too much. There was nothing left for him in his old life now. He had plenty of time to figure out what was next.

So, he tapped the controls to resume their journey.

The tiny shuttle stretched forwards for a split second, then vanished in a blaze of light.

****************************

They were going the right way. She was sure of it.

She couldn’t articulate how she knew to her companion. But just like before, there was something instinctive inside her that was driving her in the right direction. And that was making her feel happy. For the first time in a long time.

She was also happy about her actions back at the detention centre. After all, that man had definitely not been very nice.

So, she settled back in her seat and watched the stars flash by. She thought about her parents, and how happy she would be to be back with them.

And she made a solemn promise to herself.

No more killing.

Starting from now.

The End

 

[Bynar0110]

Enjoyed reading it very much.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Love the bloodthirsty little ending there - and Jirel dragged through the mud to restore some sort of heroic pose.

Fun story - well done! Thanks!! rbs

 

[BountyTrek]

Enjoyed reading it very much.

Love the bloodthirsty little ending there - and Jirel dragged through the mud to restore some sort of heroic pose.

Fun story - well done! Thanks!! rbs

Thank you both for reading and commenting throughout again! Always good to get such positive feedback!

The next bout of Bounty silliness is almost ready to go as well, so hopefully expect to see it in the next few days. And in the meantime, despite my painfully slow reading speed, I'm still determined to catch up with the rest of ST:Hunter.