Written by Alex Matthews Created by Jonathan Crosby-Bromley and Alex Matthews Based on 'Star Trek' created by Gene Roddenberry Produced by Sojournerverse Productions STARRING Matt Damon as CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER APRIL Rose Leslie as COMMANDER MAYA KENT Christina Chang as DR. PATRICIA SONG Ed Skrein as COMMANDER WARREN MACKENZIE Gabriel-Kane Day-Lewis as LT. EDWARD HEMMINGWAY Jack Hunter as LT. TIMOTHY DI MARCO Lesley-Ann Brandt as COMMANDER ANNIKA BARD Natalie Dormer as LT. COMMANDER SIRANNA GUEST STARRING Gwendoline Christie as LT. FREIDA RASMUSSEN Devan Chandler Long as SECURITY CHIEF HANK ANDERSON Sanaa Latham as DR. OLIVIA KENDRICK Jeffrey Dean Morgan as JACK BATESON TBA as ASSISTANT DIRECTOR VERAN LERAK John Hoyt as CADET PHILLIP BOYCE TBA as ELDER ANAKI and Mark Lenard as SAREK =============================================== Being a starship captain has spoiled me... While the diplomatic courier vessel was comfortable, Christopher April couldn't help but wish its designers had spent a bit more time and effort in giving it faster engines. When he'd offered to escort Dr Olivia Kendrick, the liaison assigned by the Governing Board of the United Rigel Worlds and Colonies, back to Rigel V, April hadn't figured on it taking as long as it currently was. The modified civilian transport used by the local government was small and stately, but when it came to speed, it was severely lacking, compared to the many ships April had served on in his career. They were still a good few hours from entering orbit, let alone landing at their destination of New Jaleyl. Sarek had declined an invitation to join April and Kendrick for a drink in the courier's guest lounge, instead choosing the meditate in his quarters. Lieutenant Hemmingway had likewise done so, wishing to spend his time digging into what little details Sarek had shared regarding his 'conspiracy'. While, officially, his assignment was as a diplomatic aide to April, all but Kendrick knew the real reason behind the Hannock's senior comms officer and computer technician's presence in their landing party. April was not a fan of keeping Kendrick in the dark. Despite Sarek's assertion that there was no evidence linking the liaison with the corruption he was tasked with investigating, they realized there was still a risk with informing her of what they knew so far. Still, the absence of the two men meant that April had been spending the last few hours alone with Kendrick. The older man found himself charmed and intrigued by the woman, despite his continuing reservations about who she worked for, what she might really be involved in. Tread carefully, April kept reminding himself. But the truth was, April felt drawn to her and if he was any judge, she seemed to feel the same about him. It had been a long time since he'd felt this open and comfortable talking with a woman. Not since the final days that he'd shared with Melinda. Before her illness had robbed her of consciousness, then eventually her life. They'd talked about a lot of different things, including her rather 'hellraiser' youth growing up on Rigel V, before maturing, discovering her passion for medicine and helping people, earning her M.D. and entering private practice. He smiled gratefully as Kendrick returned to their table, picking up another couple of coffees for them both from the self-service dispenser. The smell was unusual and his curiosity must have been apparent as Kendrick grinned at him, "It's a Rigellian blend, transplanted and modified to grow in the soil." Cautiously taking a sip, April found it tarter than his usual blend of choice, but still enjoyable. Nothing a little sugar wouldn't fix, and he could feel the hit of the caffeine already, "Not bad." She gifted him a dazzling smile, "So, we talked a lot about me and my career, tell me about yours." April felt his good mood sour just a little. He thought back to their conversation earlier in the day when she mentioned the Lexington, his previous posting before being reassigned to take command of the Hannock. Something tells me you already know about my 'career'... Emboldened, he fixed his gaze on her, "I think you already have some idea about it." Kendrick's smile faded. In fact, she looked almost guilty, definitely apologetic, as she sighed, unable to meet his gaze now "I was given a dossier about you and your crew to read on my way to Rigel IV. It... did mention a few things, yes." "Like the Lexington?" She nodded slowly, "Exactly." She looked back at him, "I know that the Lexington was taken away from you, because of some kind of altercation you were involved in, but not any real details." April couldn't help but smile coyly, "...and you're curious?" Her wide-eyed 'you got me' look was adorable. His smile widening, April didn't feel like there was any real reason not to explain what had happened. It was part of his permanent file now. One of the many reasons he was feeling unsure about things as they stood. Besides, it might be good to talk about it with someone outside of the service, of the life. "I've been in Starfleet for a long time," he started, thinking back to his early days at the Academy, advanced flight school, his first assignment as a newly-minted and incredibly green and gung-ho ensign. God, how much he'd changed. "For most of the time, I've done what I was told, followed orders without question, because I believed in my superiors." With a start, April realized he'd begun to absently fiddle with his ring finger. He hadn't worn his wedding ring for almost 18 months. It was currently in his quarters back on Starbase 12, the place he called home when the Hannock wasn't on assignment. "You know, I figured for a long time, I was married to my career. Never gave much thought to settling down. Then I met Melinda, and that changed everything." "We had 12 wonderful years. We pushed each other in our careers; she was a research scientist with Yoyodyne Propulsion. She was so proud of me when I got my captain's bars, my first real command." The Christopher had been an old refit Daedalus-class and for six years, she'd been his, before the entire batch of surviving Daedalus-class starships had been retired and decommissioned. Then he took command of the Bonaventure-class Lexington. Sure, the Lexington had been smaller than the Christopher, but she was more advanced, more well-armed and a ship-of-the-line. He could still see Melinda's beaming smile as he told her the news on one of his rare visits home to their vintage brownstone in Cambridge, Massachusetts on Earth. "Marriage, it's hard work. But we were happy with it just being the two of us, given our lives and it made me realize there was something beyond just my career." A flash of memory caught him off-guard. The despair in Melinda's eyes as she looked at him for support, as the doctor confirmed what the both of them had feared for months since her first minor episode. That she was suffering from an early and rapid onset of Iverson's Disease. "When Melinda died--" He had to stop for a moment, to collect himself, take a breath to calm the flurry of emotions thinking about that horrible time triggered. "When she died, I lost someone who kept me grounded, kept me centred, after everything I had to deal with in the course of my duties." Kendrick's eyes had grown wide as saucers. April felt a little embarrassed at this sudden display of private thoughts and emotions. He offered a shy smile, "But I guess you're wondering what this has to do with the Lexington?" "A little, yes. But if you don't want to talk about it..?" He shook his head. I've come this far, "No it's fine. I just wanted you to understand that the person I was when I took command of the Lexington, and the man I am now after losing my wife, are very different people." "We were on assignment on Landris III, dealing with a diplomatic team that had become entangled in a brewing internal conflict. Several of our security personnel were dispatched to assist, but their shuttle was shot down and they were captured. The admiral in charge decided that the focus had to be the civilians, that the security troops knew what they'd signed on for and should already be considered lost." April again felt resentment and disgust at Admiral Bradford's callous disregard for his men. Judging from the appalled look in Kendrick's eyes, she felt the same. Her words confirmed it, "That's terrible!" He nodded slowly, "I told the admiral exactly the same thing." He grinned, "With a few more expletives and colourful language thrown in, admittedly." "What happened?" April shrugged, "Well, I did the only thing I could think of that seemed to make sense." "I knocked that cold-hearted bastard right on his ass." Although his fist had stung like a son-of-a-bitch from punching Bradford out, seeing the man's eyes roll back in his head as he slumped to the floor, out cold, had made up for it. "Then, I had my X.O. handle the release and retrieval of the diplomats, while I lead another security team and rescued my men with minimal casualties and no fatalities on either side." "It brought all sides of the conflict to the negotiating table, and Landris has had peace since." Kendrick's brow furrowed, "But if it all turned out for the good..?" Pursing his lips, April considered his next words for a moment before replying, "Because smacking a high-ranking and favoured admiral out is frowned upon." Kendrick didn't need to hear that he'd also been somewhat critical of various decisions of Starfleet Command during Melinda's illness. That his outspoken attitude had already rubbed a lot of bureaucratic higher-ups the wrong way. "So, they took the Lexington away from me and shuffled me onto the Hannock and the Rigel Sector." Kendrick whistled in obvious awe. "Wow," she breathed. "Do you regret it?" He shook his head firmly, "Not for a second." Okay, so that wasn't exactly true. While he stood by his actions in punching Bradford and rescuing his people, losing the Lexington had made him reevaluate his priorities, especially without Melinda at his side. For the last few years, despite how much he loved the stars, he had begun to realize that he wanted something... more. Not what Desmond and Laura had, maybe, but something as damn close as he could manage at his age. He knew that many of the Admiralty wanted him gone, thanks to that bastard Bradford's machinations. They'd essentially written his resignation for him, with the promise of a honourable discharge where he would keep his pension and privileges as befitting his time in service. Then there was the offer from the Cros'bro Colonial Development firm, which made the idea of retirement a little more appealing. It was a sign, maybe? That it was time to call time on his days wandering the stars and go back to Earth..? Berating himself for getting lost in 'what-ifs', April pushed those thoughts away. "I couldn't let those men die. Just like we can't let any more people on Rigel IV die for no reason, to not get answers and justice for those that have already died." He was surprised - and somewhat pleased - when Kendrick reached out and took his hand. Squeezed it tight with affection and determination. "We won't," she replied with fierce intensity, "I promise." After a moment, she let go. Resumed sipping her drink. They lapsed into a comfortable silence. As he sipped his cooling coffee, April couldn't help but wonder just how everyone else was getting on with their own assignments. * * * It all just happened so damn fast... With a look of pure, unadulterated, murderous rage in his wild eyes, the male Zami technician lunged across the short distance between himself and a terrified Laurel Meyer. His hands were ready to close around her throat before Patricia Song, watching in open-mouthed horror, had a chance to even scream a warning. But the solid right hook that Annika Bard landed in the man's face knocked him back, just long enough for Song to frantically pull Meyer out of harm's way. "Everyone, get back!" Bard yelled out as she quickly pulled her phase-pistol from its holster. Song noticed her adjusting the power level to one of the higher settings. It was a good call. I doubt even 'heavy stun' would do much damage, given the amount of adrenaline coursing through their veins. The male Zami rolled to his feet, shaking off the dizziness and confusion Bard's punch must have made him experienced. The female Zami continued to growl low in her throat, keeping her weight on the balls of her feet, ready to pounce herself at any moment. As they backed up against the wall, Song fumbled the intercom switch that was now in reach, "Attention all personnel. Security breach in the infirmary!" She saw Bard nod in approval, and while the idea of help coming was something to believe in, Song wasn't sure if it would do any real good. She'd seen the damage a few of these crazed individuals had done to the cultural observation outpost. The Hill People settlement. Would a few security cadet trainees - kids, really - be much of an obstacle? They never got the chance to find out. With renewed determination to land their prey, both Zami abruptly leapt into the air. Bard's precise phase-pistol shot cut down the male mid-air, but even as consciousness was robbed from him, his female cohort remained unhindered as she screamed with animalistic fury, throwing herself at James DeSteve. The nurse let out a startled shriek as he fell under her assault, barely able to hold her back as she desperately tried to rip into him, her fingers curled in claws. "Someone, help me!!" His desperate call was frantic with panic, as Meyer futilely tried to pull the woman off her colleague, with little effect. Much to her own horror, Song found herself frozen. Her mind went totally blank. She managed to look over to Bard, hoping the security officer would come to the rescue but saw that was not going to happen. The Zami male had bodily slammed into the lithe South African commander, knocking her down and pinning her to the floor. Snapping out of her momentary shock, Song spun around and began rifling through the hypos on the table behind her. There's gotta be something here that would knock them out! Finally, she grabbed a vial of the most powerful sedative she kept on the Hannock and loaded in three times the maximum dosage. Save James first, deal with a possible overdose later. With shaking hands, she slammed the drug into the hypo, but as she spun back around, calling on whatever strength and resolve she could muster to do what she had to-- -- the Zami female abruptly went limp, before sliding to the floor bonelessly. DeSteve scrambled back and out of the way of her, even as she lay insensate, as Meyer quickly went to check on him. Song found herself looking into the cool, blue eyes of their unlikely saviour. Siranna, her breath coming in ragged pants, stood behind the fallen Zami. One hand outstretched as she collected herself. The remains of her restraints still attached to her wrists, having torn herself free just as the Zami had. In a moment of startling realization, Song understood what had happened. She must have used that Vulcan neuro-pressure technique I've heard about. The 'neck pinch or something. "That will be enough of that," the Vulcan woman finally muttered. Her voice was soft, but there was still an underlying vehemence to her tone. It made the hair on the back of Song's neck stand on end. Had they traded one attacker for another? It seemed Bard was thinking the same. As she finally extricated herself from underneath the unconscious male Zami, she quickly aimed her phase-pistol at Siranna as she made her way towards Song, "Keep your distance, please, ma'am." The Vulcan woman raised her hands slowly in surrender. "Of course. I understand your caution." She took a step back. "If you wish to restrain me again, I will not resist. However, I suggest you see to the two technicians first. They will not remain unconscious for long." While Bard kept them all covered, Meyer and the now-calmer DeSteve worked together to see to the Zami. Song dropped the hypo she'd been clutching in a white-knuckle grip to the floor from suddenly-nerveless fingers. The adrenaline that had been pumping through her veins already abating as she breathlessly sagged against the table behind her. This whole maddening situation was far from being dealt with, Song knew that in her heart. But all she cared about right now, that for now, the fight was over... * * *
This was nowhere close to being over. As she squeezed off another shot from her phase-pistol, Maya Kent tried to look at the situation from a logical, strategic point of view. But it was becoming increasingly difficult as the enraged, insanely-homicidal swarm of Hill People continued to come at them. Even with a dozen or more stunned bodies littering the area around the crashed shuttlepod, it didn't deter the remaining members of the horde for very long. They're like sharks, smelling blood. They know they outnumber us and they don't care what it costs them to get to us... The tell-tale warning light on the side of her side-arm gave her pause. She was already close to draining the weapon already. Dammit! Kent looked to Boyce. The young medical cadet was sweating profusely, but his aim was true, his arms braced against the shuttlepod's port-side wing. "Keep them at bay, I need a new power cell!" He nodded briskly, but didn't take his eyes off his targets, "Aye, ma'am!" As Boyce kept her covered, Kent ducked back inside the Hernandez. Secured to his seat was the unconscious Tim Di Marco. Badly injured by the crash and his console overloading, Kent almost envied him his obliviousness to the danger they were all facing. On the deck, his forehead still streaked with blood, with his broken arm secured in a make-shift sling, Warren Mackenzie had removed an access hatch. His good arm rummaged through the guts of the auxiliary craft, hastily pulling out and reattaching wires and circuits faster than Kent could follow. "Mac, what the hell are you doing?!" Like Boyce, the engineer didn't take his eyes off his task as he gave her a reply. "My ears work fine, Maya. You two aren't going to hold out for much longer, so we need another option." He pulled back briefly as something sparked inside the hatch, grinning in triumph, "Gotcha!" This time, he looked up, "Shields are gone, but I can rig up something like the old hull polarizing trick. Electrify the hull, maybe buy time to get the comm system working." Kent appreciated the ingenuity, but she was also a realist. "That won't last long, not with the damage we took in the crash." Mac shot her a nasty look, one she was willing to overlook considering the circumstances, "I have to do something, dammit!" He wiggled his injured arm, immediately regretting it from the grimace of pain he tried to hide from her but failed, "I can't fight, but I can do this." She wanted to reach out and comfort him. Offer some support. She understood how useless he must be feeling. She couldn't help feeling the same way. Once those Hill People got them, it wouldn't be pretty. "Mac... I--" "Commander Kent!" Boyce's awestruck voice cut her off, "You better come out and see this!" What now?! Pushing that thought out of the way, Kent spun around and climbed out of the pod, keeping her pistol ready, "Cadet? What's the..." She trailed off as her eyes took in a sight her brain could not quite comprehend. I see it. I just don't believe it..! Coming at the crowd of Hill People from the rear was a trio of what passed for horses on Rigel IV. Each of them mounted by a rider wielding a laser rifle that they had no difficulty firing as they rode. At their flank came one of the covered wagons, pulled by two more of the same beasts the riders were using. Kent could just make out the two people sitting on the fore of it, one holding the reins, the other using a rifle of their own. The shots from their weapons quickly started to do some damage. Hill People dropped, the intensity of the laser fire burning holes in them, driving away many of the oncoming marauders as they broke for cover. Effectively making a gap on their numbers, through which the riders pushed through, although it took Kent a moment to realize that they were heading their way. The three riders slowed, quickly turning their animals to face back the way they'd come. That was when Kent saw that the massive wooden gates to the mountain-side city of Vanir were open. Not much, but just enough to allow this rescue party to come to their aid. Talk about the cavalry coming to the rescue! The wagon finally came to a halt just in front of the Hernandez. The individual with the laser rifle stood and aimed their weapon back towards the regrouping Hill People, joining in laying down a spread of suppressive fire to keep them at bay. Whereas they hadn't seemed to fear the effect of phase-pistols, the threat of laser fire seemed to instil a momentary lull. The other rider of the wagon clambered down. They were wrapped head to toe in protective clothing, which obscured their identity. As they made their approach, they removed the layers protecting their head. Kent expected to see the face of someone from one of the human-like Rigellian species; Zami or a Jelna. Instead, she was greeted with the sight of a grizzled, older human man. He was maybe 50 or so, with a thick and bushy beard in need of cleaning which offset his buzzcut hairstyle. Intense hazel eyes glaring at her with impatience as he spoke with a gruff voice. "What you all waiting for? An invitation?" His harsh, no-nonsense manner was enough to snap Kent out of the startled, disbelieving trance she'd been in, "Who the Hell are you?" Kent realized she was looking the proverbial 'gift-horse' straight in the mouth, but given she had just survived a shuttlepod crash landing, she was allowing herself some understandable dubiousness. "Jack Bateson," the man snarled in reply, giving her the stink-eye. "Now, get yourself out of that tin can! Unless you want to be ripped apart by these lunatics?!" The man has an excellent point, she finally conceded, turning to Boyce, "Cadet, help me get Mac and Di Marco out of the Hernandez." It took longer than she would have liked, but within a few minutes, both Mac and the out-of-it Di Marco had been relocated to the wagon, Boyce checking on them with the medkit he'd salvaged. After slipping the single communicator she'd managed to find into her jacket pocket, Kent allowed herself to be pulled up onto the front seat with Bateson, as the person with the rifle moved into the covered section, to watch their flank. As their unexpected rescuer whipped the reins and gave the animals the impetus to get going, Kent took one last look at the Hernandez. The shuttlepod had indeed taken a hell of a beating on its crash landing, but she knew that it could be repaired once it was returned back to the launch bay of the Hannock. But what really caught her eye was what she saw on the lower starboard-side. Given the immediacy of their situation, it wasn't like Kent had been given time to give the shuttlepod a once-over. Otherwise, she might have seen the angry scorch-mark that had burned away most of the hull plating and ruptured several EPS conduits, destroying critical components and frying pretty much every system. This wasn't just some random malfunction, Kent realized with growing clarity. Someone shot us down... * * * In any other circumstances, Maya Kent would have found the experience exhilarating. But as the wind blew through her close-cropped hair, all she could focus on was the massing horde of Hill People determinedly giving chase to her and her companions. The sandy plain wasn't the smoothest ride atop what was, in essence, a horse-drawn buggy. With gritted teeth, Kent braced herself against the sturdy wood the vehicle was made from. Feels like my damn teeth are going to shake loose! Still, Kent was very aware of the fact that she and her crewmates owed their lives to their unexpected rescuers. She pulled out the communicator, flipping it open and adjusting the dial, "Kent to Hannock, come in! Repeat, this is Commander Kent calling the Hannok, emergency situation!" The only answer was static. As she began to repeat herself, the gruff voice of Bateson derisively cut her off, "Don't bother, there's some kind of electromagnetic interference blocking comms. You're not going to get through to anybody with that pokey little transmitter." The angry retort that came to mind never left her lips. Instead, Kent barely managed to suppress an undignified but justified scream of surprise as one of the enraged Hill People got close enough to leap up onto the canvas that acted as protection for the wagon's passengers. His eyes met hers for an instant. Kent could see his manic gleam in his blood-shot eyes, driven far beyond sanity by the poison that was running through his corrupted circulatory system. With an inarticulate howl of maddening rage, the man lunged for her, Kent found herself abruptly being pulled back by Bateson's strong grip, as he practically bellowed, "Get out of the way!" The man swung his laser rifle around, firing without a second of hesitation. If it hadn't been in the act of saving her life, Kent would have been appalled, but right now, survival was all that mattered. It wasn't like they actually had any idea of a treatment for what ailed these poor people, right now. The superheated blast of energy struck the man in the shoulder. Sent him spinning away from the wagon, crashing into the ground, tumbling away down into the blood-splattered sand. Within seconds, it was clear he wasn't getting up, as stragglers unable to keep up with the wagon went for easier pickings. They were on the body, ripping into it-- Kent quickly looked away, sickened and queasy. They don't care who they attack. They just want to see blood. It wasn't until they were through the massive doors of the city of Vanir, which were then closed behind them as fast as their primitive mechanisms would allow, that the Hannock's Executive Officer finally found herself able to catch a breath. We made it... As she was about to turn to face her saviour, twice-over, she caught a series of sudden movements out of the corner of her eye. Turning, she pulled back as she found several laser pistols pointing directly at her face. "Whoa-- wait a second!" She raised her arms in surrender, "What's all this about, we're no threat to you!" "Easy, easy!" Bateson shouted, quickly disembarking from the wagon, stepping between Kent and the sudden firing squad that had shown up out of nowhere. He reached into his protective garments and pulled out a scanner of some sort. He waved it slightly, "I checked them all out when we pulled them from of their shuttle. They're all clean." Did he scan us? Despite her surprise and brief irritation at the violation of privacy, since they hadn't even been asked, she understood the need for it. From the look of things, they'd been fighting against the infected for the last few hours. They needed to be careful whom they allowed into their fortified city, so it made perfect sense to scan and confirm that they were free of infection. But, as she lowered her arms, it was quickly becoming clear to Kent that the situation in Vanir was nothing like she'd been lead to believe. A human among them, trusted by them. Using laser rifles and taking the word of someone using a scanner. Hardly as technophobic as I thought they'd be. Looking around, Kent realized something. While most of the citizens with weapons appeared to be Zami as she had expected, a smattering of them were clearly from other races. There was a few Jelna, even a Chelonian, the hulking turtle-like form, complete with shell, that were native to Rigel II, as well as other humans beyond the man who had led their rescue. The question was on her lips, but before she could utter it, a strangled cry of warning grabbed everyone's attention. Spinning around, Kent felt her heart turn to ice as she saw the reason for it. It was one of the infected from outside. He crawled out from underneath the wagon, wide eyes that hinted at the madness that drove him. Oh, shit... Somehow, during the commotion of their arrival into the city, he must have grabbed onto the wagon and hitched a ride into the city. With all eyes on Kent and her comrades, he had escaped notice. Until now. He stood there, spittle hanging from his sneering mouth, growling low in his throat. A sheen of sweat made his skin glisten in the sunlight. Hands balled into fists as he assessed his situation with what little intelligence and rationality he had been left with. The training she'd undergone throughout her Starfleet career pushed Kent forward, wanting to find some way to connect to this poor soul. "It's okay," she spoke in a hushed voice. Taking a hesitant step forward, she continued, "We can help you if you let--" Her words died in her throat as she saw the savage gleam in his eyes. Whatever part of him had been listening to her had been subsumed by virus-induced rage. He let out a horrible scream that practically deafened Kent as he lunged for her. She automatically threw her arms up to shield herself-- --only to be all but blinded by a series of laser bolts that shot past her and slammed into her would-be attacker. She felt the heat sear her exposed skin, her vision clearing the after-image of the weapons fire just in time to see the ruined and charred body hit the ground with a wet slap. Smoke drifted up from the body, the stench of burned flesh making her even more nauseous. Whirling around the face Bateson, his laser pistol just one of the many that had taken the life of the poor man, Kent found herself overtaken by a fury of her own. "What the Hell was that?!" she demanded angrily. Bateson shot her a cold look, seemingly unmoved by her outburst, "He was going to rip you apart. You're welcome." He shrugged, his total nonchalance at his actions galling Kent even more, "Besides, he was as good as dead, anyway." Whatever angry retort she was about to throw back at him went unsaid as she heard a familiar voice call her name, "Maya? You okay?" She looked back at the wagon, where a concerned Mac and Boyce had poked their heads from out of the canvas covering. While Mac only had eyes for her, she saw the colour fade from Boyce's young face as he took in the grisly sight that lay nearby. "I'm fine," she was quick to reply, wanting to assuage any worries the engineer might have. Now wasn't the time for that. "Come on, we should get you and Lieutenant Di Marco somewhere more comfortable." With Boyce's help, she eased Mac to the ground, thankful he could walk, while she and Boyce just about managed to carry the unconscious Di Marco between them. Kent was glad they had managed it - she was far too wary right now of their new 'friends' to ask for any kind of help. As Bateson lead them someplace where Boyce would be able to offer more comprehensive care to their injured, Kent was all too aware of the old phrase 'beggars can't be choosers'. They were in no condition to refuse the shelter that Vanir offered. She hoped Bateson wasn't an indication of how everyone in this city was dealing with their situation. Still, the Executive Officer decided from that moment that now it would a case of remembering another phrase. One she'd learned in the Academy, that originated from the Earth nation of Russia; 'Trust but verify'. * * *
Annika Bard didn't trust easily. A highly trained and experienced security officer, trust was a commodity she valued and was careful to whom she bestowed it upon. As a result, the South African watched, eyes narrowed with suspicion, as the woman called Siranna sat placidly and unresisting on the examination table in the Security Training Facility's small infirmary. She didn't utter a single word of protest as Dr Song and Nurse DeSteve secured her with extra restraints, while Dr Meyer prepared another hypospray. Even from her position across the room, Bard could see the subtle shake in Meyer's hands as she went about her work. Bard couldn't blame her. The four of them had been under attack only bare minutes ago from the two rampaging Zami who now lay immobile and unconscious on bio-beds. The mood of the room was tense and anxious, as they each dealt with the emotional after-effects of the assault. Hell, I'm still feeling a little wired, myself, she conceded. The sedative Meyer was loading the hypo with, Bard had been told, would be enough to help the Vulcan scientist to keep in control of herself, without robbing her of consciousness. Unlike the two Commission technicians, since Siranna seemed to be coherent, Song had decided to keep her awake in order to answer questions. It wasn't a decision Bard found she could agree with completely, purely from a security standpoint, but she also understood that it was a necessary risk. Still, that didn't mean she was going to just assume the best of everything. She had her hand on the butt of her phase-pistol, with the weapon already set for maximum stun, just in case. She'd also called in two of her most competent troopers, Hanover and ch'Loore, as back-up, with each wielding a phase-rifle. The Hannock's chief medical officer had protested their addition, but Bard had nipped it in the bud with a firm reminder that this was her Facility, while Song was just visiting. Once Song was confident the restraints would hold no matter how much Siranna might struggle, then administered the hypo offered by Meyer, Bard knew she was up. She'd never interrogated a Vulcan before, but the security officer reminded herself that Siranna was the only witness to what had really happened to the Hill People encampment, to the cultural observation outpost. She was also willing to help, which meant they would finally get some answers. "We've seen the log you began recording," she began, keeping her tone modulated and calm. "Can you explain just what happened?" Siranna offered a nod, her eyes became unfocused as she considered her answer, "As part of our cultural studies, I have semi-regular visits with the settlements of Hill People across the continent. During this particular visit, I noticed what appeared to be a strange malady within the community." "The initial symptoms of the Oleni Fever," Song muttered, apparently not realizing she was speaking aloud. When she saw them looking her way, she offered a contrite apology. Bard indicated for Siranna to continue her recounting. "If you have seen my log, you are aware that I was unable to offer any real aid," Siranna continued. It may have been Bard's imagination, but she could have sworn she heard something akin to regret in the Vulcan's gentle voice, "The madness took hold of everyone, including Elder Inawi. He attacked me, leaving me no choice but to defend myself." Bard's gaze was drawn to the dressed wound on Siranna's collarbone, "Looks like you were a little too slow." Siranna's gaze found her, her eyes narrowed in the barest hint of annoyance. "He was exceptionally faster than I expected," she replied bitingly. "However, I was able to render him unconscious and effect a retreat to where my land speeder was secured." "Unfortunately, I found several Hill People in the process of..." She paused for a moment, "I believe the human phrase is, 'trashing it'?" She shook her head slowly, "Both the speeder's communications and propulsion system were damaged. I was unable to warn the outpost of what had transpired and due to limited speed, the Hill People were able to give chase and follow me back to the outpost." Something glimmered on Siranna's cheek in the infirmary's weak light. After a moment, Bard realized what it was and was left stunned. She's crying?! Maybe it was due to her emotional control being compromised by the virus. Whatever the reason, it was unnerving, to say the least. "Because of my actions, the Hill People soon overwhelmed the outpost. They attacked anything that moved, that they considered a threat." Bard took note as Siranna clenched her fists, "I tried to hold them back, to allow my colleagues to flee, but I was no match for them." "They're all dead. Because of ME!" To hear the sheer degree of self-loathing in that one word coming from a Vulcan was nothing short of blood-chilling, at least to Bard. Everyone took a step back from where Siranna sat, as her lips curled with disgust and, for a second, she thrashed against her bonds. Bard's phase-pistol was out of its holster in a flash, her aim dead on the Vulcan's chest. Behind her, Hanover and ch'Loore stepped up, their rifles up and ready. The security officer saw Song frown and step forward, mouth opening in protest but Bard cut her off with a quick look and a shake of her head. Now is not the time to not play it safe. Apparently, whatever they'd injected her with to help curb the madness, it wasn't working as well as planned. However, the outburst seemed to already be over and done with. Siranna's fingers flexed as she relaxed her hands. Her entire body seemed to sag as she released a trembling breath. She looked to Bard, an apology in her bright blue eyes, "It appears you were correct in cautioning the doctor to sedate me fully. While the injection has indeed calmed me, it appears my emotional control is still severely compromised. I would suggest increasing the dosage and putting me under, just to be safe." "No." The word came out of Bard's mouth before she even realized it had occurred to her. She saw the look of surprise the three medical professionals were giving her. Even Siranna raised a curious eyebrow. Bard stepped forward, feeling a resolve burning deep inside her, "Look, if you're willing to stay conscious, endure those emotions for a little while longer, we can use that." She looked to Song, "Wouldn't it help to have a patient awake and aware to answer the questions you must have?" Song bit her lip, "Well, honestly, yes." Bard offered her a supportive smile, before looking to Siranna again, "If it will appease your concerns, I'll increase the guard presence." After another long moment, Siranna nodded, "Very well." As Song and her people got back to work, while Siranna closed her eyes in what she said was an attempt to meditate, Bard got on the intercom to call another couple of her guys to duty. Once she had confirmed they were on their way, Bard allowed herself to tend to the tight ball of anger that she has been nursing deep in her gut. The sooner we get answers, the better. Captain April had already briefed her on the suspicions of the attache from the Federation Consulate. It galled at Bard to think that someone had done this under her nose with impunity. That, whatever was the cause of this horrifying situation, it hadn't been introduced as a random fluke of nature or accident. Rather, it had been done on purpose by someone. It only made her want to get to the bottom of this whole mess all the more. To make someone pay... * * * Rigel V took Chris April's breath away. As the diplomatic courier began its final approach for the small landing area of the Federation Consulate, it had afforded the passengers a chance to 'take in the sights'. The architecture of the planet's capital city somehow merged classic looks with neo-futuristic design principles. A shining example of what made the fifth planet of the system stand out among its brethren, as it were. As they made their final approach, his and Kendrick's time alone had come to an end, with both Hemmingway and Sarek joining them in the lounge. As one, they all took in the view, even the Vulcan attache. The cynic in April did wonder if it was part of the flight crew's training, to make a point of showing off all that the citizens of Rigel V, the pinnacle of the United Rigel Worlds and Colonies, had achieved. Showing it off for the tourists, he realized with amusement. He also had to hand it to the pilots that they were doing a good job. The inertial dampeners must have been set at maximum because April hadn't felt any of the usual turbulence of entering the atmosphere, while the ship's graceful banks and turns as it navigated the skyscrapers of New Jaleyl had barely disturbed his drink. Always good to have a decent pilot at the helm. Looking out one of the larger viewing windows in the guest lounge as they approached the Consulate, April was struck by two distinct things. The first was how the complex differed in appearance from the neighbouring buildings, with a much more blocky and basic look, harkening back to the human designs from the early 22nd century. The Hannock's commanding officer knew from his recent crash-course in the Federation's dealings with the Rigel system that this was indeed the same building that had served as first, the United Earth's official embassy, then later, the Federation's. As of last year, when the Rigel system as a whole had become Federation members, it had transitioned into consulate status. 'Stick with what works', as the old adage goes. The second thing that April took note of, was the mess of people gathered outside it. It wasn't exactly a crowd, by any means, more an unruly mob, one which seemed to be trying to make themselves seen and heard, as they waved signs and banners. Some looked decidedly home-made and kitbashed, while others waved around large data slates above their heads. Hemmingway asked the question April himself was about to pose, "What's going on down there?" The young communications officer practically had his nose against the viewport as he tried to get a closer look. His brow furrowed in confusion that mirrored April's own. He looked to Kendrick, as the woman cleared her throat. Her discomfort was obvious to all as she muttered a reply, "It's something that has been going on for the last year or so." "A small number of citizens across the system did not support the admission," Sarek added, his voice almost annoyingly placid. "There have been several protests outside both the consulate and the central government offices since the referendum passed in favour of joining the Federation fully." Kendrick quickly followed up further, almost apologetic, "They're just harmless nay-sayers, really. Those who feel that we're giving up the sovereignty of being 'Rigellian' by becoming a full member state of another alliance." April looked back out the viewport, looking down at it all again. This time, he could now see what appeared to be several uniformed officers working to break up and move the protesters away. Harmless, indeed, he mused, as several of the angry citizens pushed back against those who would try to interfere. "Why would anyone be against Federation membership?" Hemmingway's question went unanswered, hanging in the air of silence that descended upon the lounge. It reminded April, that despite his rank and position aboard the Hannock, just how young and naive the communications officer was. Having grown up during the fall-out of the Earth/Romulan War, when Terra Prime had tried to rear its ugly head again, April remembered just how many of his parents' neighbours had still harboured strong xenophobia. The birth of the Federation hadn't erased those kinds of mentalities straight away; it had taken a long time for humanity to truly embrace being part of a wider galaxy. It seemed the Rigel system still had some growing pains of its own, too. * * *
Seeing officers under her command in pain, made Maya Kent felt like a failure. She watched anxiously as Cadet Boyce ran his medical scanner over a restless Tim Di Marco, the young helmsman sweating profusely and murmuring softly in a half-conscious state. He'd suffered the worst from the shuttle crash, the burned skin of his face was raw and bloody. It was a small mercy that Boyce's medkit had survived unscathed, as it meant he'd been able to administer both a painkiller and a mild sedative. Pushing her guilt away, Kent focused her attention on running the osteo-regenerator over Mac's broken arm. It wasn't pretty and would need a proper seeing to once they got back to the Hannock, but it freed him from the sling for the moment. As the engineer offered her a half-hearted smile, Kent found herself lost in his dark blue eyes for a long moment, just like she used to way back when. Their love affair back at Starfleet Academy had burned hot and bright, like a supernova. They'd both been lucky enough to pull their first assignment together on Jupiter Station, but while Mac had been happy tinkering, Kent had wanted - needed - more than that. She'd worked her ass off to get through the Academy in the top 5 percentile, so she refused to let her career be stagnant. That was why she'd called time on the relationship and put in for a transfer to starship duty. It had been hard to let Mac go, but she'd never regretted putting her career first. It led her to eventually becoming X.O. on the Lexington and learning much from Captain April. The Bonaventure-class starship had been at the forefront of diplomatic contacts and frontier exploration for several years. Then, Landris III happened. She'd stood by her commanding officer, moving to the Hannock with him. A definite change of pace, but with a permanent berth at Starbase 12, it had allowed her to put down roots for the first time in a long while. When Mac had come aboard as their new chief engineer, Kent had found herself thinking back a lot to those early days of being so passionately drawn to him. Now, she was his superior officer. Everything was different. Yet not, at the same time. With an abrupt start, Kent was hit by the fact that this was so not the time for being lost in nostalgia, mentally shaking herself out of it. She finished the last sweep of the regenerator, clicking the device off, "This'll do for now." She did her best to ignore the disappointed glimmer in Mac's eyes before he looked away, muttering a 'thank you' as he gently flexed the arm. Standing up and turning around, Kent faced Jack Bateson, who had been standing watch over them since they'd relocated to the small room that had been set aside for them. "While I'm grateful for your assistance, Mr Bateson," she began, wanting to get some straight answers finally to the myriad of questions she had, "I'm sure you can understand my confusion at seeing you here in the first place." She remained steadfast under Bateson's scrutiny for a long moment. He first offered only an ambivalent shrug as an answer before finally speaking, "I could say the same to you. Not every day we get a visit from Starfleet." "But I've got nothing to hide," he then continued, dropping his defensive posture and the overly aggressive manner he'd displayed up to then. "I'm a free-trader from Deneva, looking to expand my business into the Rigel system. I came here hoping to make a deal with the Hill People." "What kind of deal?" He slowly pulled something from his jacket pocket, offering it to her. It was a blade, hand-crafted and intricately detailed. Just like the ones she'd seen at the remains of the Hill People settlement. But, whereas those had been stained with blood and gore, this one was pristine. Knt looked to Bateson askance, not really getting why he had shown her this. He offered a sly grin, "Do you have any idea of the novelty of hand-made trinkets in this day and age? When everything like this is now generally manufactured in the hundreds by machines? I know places where this kind of thing would fly off the proverbial shelves." "You're here to make a fast buck?" Kent grimaced inwardly at Mac's dismissive and appalled tone. It wouldn't do to piss off the only ally they had at the moment. However, Bateson remained unaffected by the engineer's disapproval, "Just because I'm human doesn't mean I have to subscribe to the lofty ideals of the UFP, son." He looked to her again as he continued, "That's why I came here, in order to approach the Council of Elders, to see if we could strike some kind of deal." His mouth twisted with disgust, "Of course, I didn't plan on getting stuck here, just as people started going mad and ripping each other apart." Bateson shuddered, "But I've learned how to be a survivor." So I saw, Kent thought to herself, vividly recalling the oh-so-casual manner in which Bateson and others had shot dead the poor soul earlier. "You killed that man. Shot him dead without--" Bateson's furious retort caught her off-guard, "Hey! I did what I had to! If he'd gotten loose, he'd have killed who knows how many!" He glared at her, unwavering, "Infected dozens more. Then we'd all be screwed, wouldn't we?!" Kent's heart went out of the older man. Despite his apparent bravado, it was clear to her now that he was haunted by his actions. This was a man who had found himself in a bizarre situation outside of anything he might have ever experienced. Ashamed to have so quickly rushed to judgement, she tried to find words of apology, but before she could voice them, a gentle, tremulous, female voice spoke up, "Enough, everybody. Now is not the time to fight among ourselves." Turning to face whoever had just spoken, Kent found herself looking at someone who was, quite frankly, one of the oldest people she'd ever met. The woman, her pointed ears identifying she was Zami, wore clothing that was rough-hewn and hand-woven, indicated she was a Hill Person. She was stooped over, using a thick piece of wood fashioned into a cane for support as she carefully stepped into the room and approached Kent. "Not with those unfortunates clawing at our city gates," she concluded as she stopped in front of Kent. Bright blue eyes that sung with wisdom and a lifetime of sights Kent could only guess at seemed to stare deep into her soul. The Starfleet officer found herself immediately in awe of the woman's sheer presence. It seemed she wasn't the only one. As Bateson spoke, his voice lost all hint of anger; instead, it was tinged with awe and respect. "Most High Elder Anaki," he said, Kent looking his way to see he had lowered his head in respect. She quickly did likewise, not wishing to offend the woman by not following the protocol. "Please, Commander." Lifting her head, Kent caught the end of Anaki's dismissive wave, "We do not need to stand on ceremony. Not with everything that is going on." Kent's surprise at the Elder's use of her rank seemed to bring an amused smile to the old woman's lips, "I am Chief Elder of our Council and speak for all Hill People on Zamiar, the world you call Rigel IV. I have had dealings with the Starfleet personnel assigned to the planet. I recognize your rank markings." Her good humour quickly faded, replaced with a concerned frown, that seemed to age her even more, "Are you here because of this sickness? Has it spread beyond our people here?" "I'm afraid so, Elder." Deciding that honesty was the best policy, Kent knew she just had to lay it all out and hope that Anaki would understand the need to call for outside help. As the Scottish woman recounted what had happened what she'd seen at both the cultural observation outpost and the ransacked settlement, tears formed in the Elder's bright blue eyes. "But as for how far the contamination has spread," she finished, "we're just not sure yet. I'm sorry." Anaki leaned so heavily on her cane that Kent was afraid that for a moment, the old woman would keel over with shock. But instead, Kent found herself almost awestruck by the quiet resolve the woman called on, standing up as straight as she could manage. "It is worse than I feared." She shook her head sadly, "When our shepherds came back, screaming and ranting about an attack by some crazed madman that had slaughtered their flock and killed three of their number... Well, it was difficult to believe." "Then, the sickness soon overtook them, one by one. We had no idea what was causing it, they were so driven by madness that we could no longer keep them contained." Anaki swiftly wiped away an errant tear before continuing, "By the sheer grace of those of the Inner Chorus, we were able to use burning arrows and Mr Bateson's weapons to light fires that pushed those afflicted back out of the city and seal them outside our gates." Bateson scoffed, not loudly, but just enough to make a point, "We got lucky, let's be honest." "We came here to offer help," Kent offered. "Our medical staff are already analyzing the virus that causes the madness, working to find a cure before this becomes even worse." She paused for a moment, unsure how to handle what she was about to say delicately, then decided to just go with it, "We are aware that your people prefer to survive without technological assistance--" Anaki abruptly lifted her hand, Kent taking the cue and cutting herself off, as the older woman pursed her lips. "We are a simple folk, Commander, that is true. More a community, than a people, not bound by blood, but by the choice to embrace all that natural living has to offer. That is why you see others in this city not born of Zamiar, but our neighbour worlds as well. "But we are not primitives," she added, a graceful pride in her words, "We will not turn away your help in this situation. One which we are totally ill-equipped to deal with on our own." Kent breathed a thankful sigh, before grinning in sheer relief, "Thank you, Most High Elder." It was like a weight had been lifted, knowing now that they had the permission they required to intercede. "That's all well and good, I guess," Bateson abruptly added, looking decidedly unimpressed. "But we still have that little problem of not having any comms. I mean, who knows how long--" A sudden burst of static silenced Bateson, as everyone flinched at the unexpected noise. Even Kent found herself squirming in discomfort and covering her ears until the static cleared and a voice could be heard, [--nnock to Comm-- Kent, come in. please!] Kent couldn't help the smug grin she shot the stunned Bateson. "Never underestimate a determined Starfleet crew, Mr Bateson." Within seconds, Kent had pulled her communicator out of her jacket pocket and flipped open the transceiver grill. Nimble fingers adjusted the dials to clear the signal, as it repeated once more, this time with more clarity before she was able to lock onto the carrier wave and reply, "This is Kent. Hannock, it's good to hear from you!" [Likewise, Commander!] The deep voice of Lt. Sebastian Tsougarakis, nominally the ship's Beta Shift watch officer, now the acting captain with so many of the senior staff off-ship, boomed through the communicator speaker with only the barest hint of interference now. [We've been trying to hail you for the past few hours. Electromagnetic interference was blocking sensors and comms, but we were finally able to punch through it. Is everything okay?] Where do I begin? Kent realized she would have to give the watch officer a full briefing at some point, but right now, they had more urgent matters, "Status is green, Mr Tsougarakis. What about the Forrest?" [Still on-site at Thursvyl,] Tsougarakis answered crisply. [The interference only slightly affected comms with them, they were remaining at the ready in case we needed to send them to look for you.] "Status of Thursvyl?" She tried to keep the trepidation out of her voice, but her grip on the communicator tightened as she waited for an answer. Tsougarakis's answer made her breath easier, [No sign of viral contamination, Commander. They've not had any kind of visitors their way for several weeks, either.] "The Inner Chorus be praised," Anaki muttered, making a motion with her hands that reminded Kent of the gesture she'd seen people back home make, that of 'crossing oneself' in the old religion of Christianity. "Unfortunately, I can't say the same for here, Mr Tsougarakis." Part of her - a large part, really - wanted to signal for beam up as soon as possible. To get away from this city, to get Mac and Di Marco somewhere for proper medical treatment. But in her heart, thanks to the strong sense of duty she'd developed since donning the uniform, Kent knew she could never - would never - just walk away from Vanir. She quickly relayed her orders, to which the Greek man responded with his characteristic steadfast aplomb. Her first instruction was to have their med-tech transported down to join them. After everything, Kent trusted Boyce, but she still wanted Di Marco and Mac checked out before they would be transported away for needed treatment. Once that was confirmed, with Anaki's blessing, Kent ordered Tsougarakis to have a division of security personnel beamed down to fortify the city walls. Hopefully, phase-pistols in the hands of professional would keep the infected at bay without resorting to fatal shots. Kent had no desire to add any more deaths to her conscience... TO BE CONTINUED...