EP 5 ACT 3
Three figures emerged from the airlock into the eerie silence of the main shuttle bay area. Across the glossy metal deck, people and equipment lay quite still, strewn around the runabout's open doorway, presumably right where they had fallen. Lirik took the point, mostly because he had terminated his environment shield so as not to interfere with the suit's delicate circuitry packed so close to his body. Keeping a healthy distance from the other two he hoped his ambient Medusan energy would not cause them any distress.
Lirik picked up a discarded tricorder and tossed it to Veana, though he didn't need to use it himself to know the victims were still alive - their faint electromagnetic brain activity he sensed told him that much.
Veana appeared to have a hard time changing the settings of the tricorder, but with a final expletive she swept it through the air and across the fallen figures of their comrades.
"They're alive, but appear to be incapacitated," Narli said stating the obvious while examining the prone form of Commodore Jackson. He looked across to the old Human woman dressed from head to toe in black robes, save for the big shiny silver cross and chain draped across her chest and the simple, dark rope around her waistband. He noticed that the clothes of both women were slightly wet around the lower torso. "These two seem to have lost bladder control."
Lirik cautiously approached the larger alien humanoids. They were equally unmoving on the two stretchers, but with much fainter life signs than the others. "These are the ones we should examine first," Lirik spoke into his helmet microphone.
Veana hesitatingly joined him beside the grey-turqoise skinned aliens, a giddy feeling in her head as she crouched. "Aside from their injuries I'm reading nothing unusual here." She seemed to have trouble using the logic interface, so Lirik gently took the device from her.
He was surprised to find he had no better luck. "We might need a more accurate sensor reading. We could use the runabout."
Both stood and walked over to the runabout hatch, but as they did, Veana stumbled slightly.
"Are you okay?" Lirik asked, immediately wondering if they too were now being affected, or whether in fact it was his Medusan energy affecting her.
"I'm not sure," Veana turned and sat on the step of the airlock, her legs trembling slightly. "My legs are numb and I think I'm going to be -" the woman gagged once, then twice, trying to put her hand over her mouth, but panicking because the helmet visor prevented her. Lirik could see the woman was about to hurl - a potentially lethal hazard - so without another thought he near-ripped her helmet out of its clamps. With only a second to spare Veana spewed over the steps and onto the deck.
"I'm sorry," she eventually sobbed, trying to wipe her mouth with the back of her gloved hand, but was too uncoordinated to manage it. "I'm so, so, sooo."
Lirik wiped the pinky yellow barf droppings from her chin. "It's okay, don't worry," he said, feeling her body go limp. She was unconscious.
"That was quick," Narli quipped stepping over the puddle into the runabout. "Did you zap her with your Medusan energy?"
"Don't be absurd," Lirik snapped, feeling a tingling sensation in his fingers. It wasn't a usual kind of tingling, either. "How do you feel?"
The Andorian shrugged. "I still feel okay."
"I'm not so sure about myself," Lirik said, wondering what the strange sinking feeling was forming in his belly. "I think I'm being affected."
"Can you re-activate your shield?" Narli asked. "That may offer a better protection."
"Not while I'm wearing this suit," Lirik said, resigning himself to apparent defeat. "I'll keep going for as long as I can." Placing Veana's body gently against the door frame, Lirik followed Narli into the cockpit.
"Lirik to bridge," the Yeoman said, barely stepping over Struckchev as his sight became blurred.
"Go ahead," Christian fair shouted.
"Everyone on the hangar deck appears to be incapacitated. Symptoms are weakness, lack of co-ordination, numbness, loss of vision, nausia, unconsciousness and, er," Lirik wasn't sure how else to phrase it, "lack of toilet control. Sir, the woman who came with us is already down and I am now also being affected, despite our radiation suits. I don't know how long I can last though the Ambassador remains well. We're going to use the runabout sensors to try and lolly loo lo-" Lirik turned to Narli. Opening his mouth, he realised nothing was coming out but nonsense. "Wah lollololl lo-lo-" He bit his swollen tongue hard.
"Say again, Yeoman?" Christian said.
Narli leaned over. "The Yeoman has lost his power of speech. Computer: scan the incapacitated lifeforms outside of the runabout. Can you identify the cause of their unconsciousness?"
"Working," the motherly voice replied. Presently: "Negative. Nothing unusual detected."
"Great," the Ambassador looked at the information scrolling down the screen as verification and shook his head. Turning to Lirik, he saw the man had slumped into the co-pilot seat and his head was flopping to and fro, though he was clearly fighting to keep his eyes open. He appeared to be trying to focus on Narli through his visor.
The Andorian was beginning to worry that one by one each of the survivors would all be pitched into unconsciousness and eventually the ship would be left to drift helpless in space until its occupants either wilted away or were caught by the K'Tani. Something touched his arm - it was Lirik. The Yeoman was flailing uncontrollably with both arms, one holding the tricorder which he tossed unceremoniously into the air, then with both hands pointed up and then at the general area of the floor where the tricorder had landed. He made a long groaning sound, then slipped into unconsciousness.
Narli looked at the plump Englishman, then at the tricorder and finally back to the data screens. He realised that despite the potency of whatever had got the others, he was still feeling okay in himself. "Tricorder," he muttered to himself. "Tricorder and 'up' - that's what you were saying, weren't you?" He studied the face of his old adversary-cum-friend.
Of course, the Yeoman didn't respond, so the Ambassador was left to take an educated guess. "Captain, I would like to send the sensor and tricorder information to the bridge. Perhaps the lovely professor may determine what's happening?"
* * *
On the main bridge, Christian fair leapt to the science station. He was surprised to find the high-backed chair empty - the Professor gone.
"I haven't seen her for an hour or so," a middle-aged Human male hanging around the environment and life support stations had seen the Captain's frustration. Something about the man appeared familiar, but Christian couldn't put his finger on it.
The Captain smacked the intraship glyph on the science station comm panel. "Bridge to Professor Karnak!" There was no response. Turning to the lower bridge area he saw a group of men and women milling around, mostly watching the unchanging viewscreen. Clapping his hands, they turned and he gestured for them to come closer. "The professor. It's imperative we find her - and quickly," Christian barked. The group nodded and split apart in several directions. Once again, the Captain found himself boiling up inside, frustrated by the lack of systems on line. Leonard had done a great job with the power grid and the main engines, but internal systems, sensors and communications were still mostly down.
Sliding under the science console he removed several access panels until he found the appropriate mechanism. In several minutes he had patched the entire console to a junction that linked into the active comm system. "Ambassador, are you still with us?"
"Yes. I'm still not effected," the voice came over the speaker.
"Perhaps you have a higher tolerance or immunity to whatever it is," the Captain said. "If you seal the runabout and initiate bio-hazard protocols you may buy yourself some time."
"Confirmed," the Andorian said, moving to the main airlock and pulling Vean on board. "I have tried several sensor sweeps, but haven't been able to identify anything unusual." Narli sealed the runabout hatch and walked back to the cockpit.
"Switch the runabout's comm system to frequency Delta 33," Christian reached up to the science console and made sure the comms were fully functioning, then made a quick check on the bridge computer core to make sure it was stable. From now on, he was determined to try and make all this machinery actually work in their favour for a change.
"Done," Narli said, looking for the internal bio-hazard controls.
"Good," Christian replied. "Now in addition to the voice signal, sensor information is being carried on the same frequency directly to the bridge." Christian sat in the high-backed chair and pulled himself in toward the displays. "That's good," Christian said, watching the data stream down the diagnostic displays. "Bear with me, Ambassador."
Christian was an engineer, not a scientist. His knowledge of chemistry was limited to engineering principles, save for his basic training at the Academy. As for biology, he could only apply his finite knowledge of ornithology, and that was something he repeatedly referred to specialist reference texts for. Leaning his elbows on the edge of the wide console, Christian did his best, but after a minute of just looking at the data, he gave up.
He rose and turned toward the viewscreen. "Ganhedra, please follow a course bearing 15 degrees mark 5. That should take us back along the course the alien ship followed, we might run into more of their people who may be able to help us," he saw the white haired man nod and place his hands over the console.
Christian turned to face the empty communications station. Despite his reservations, Narli appeared to be working well in their favour. He just wished he had a visual to confirm what he was being told. Stepping up to tactical, he checked the navigational display to make sure once again that there were no vessels approaching, then glanced to his right at the middle aged man who addressed him a short while ago. "Sir, I need you to sit at communications and listen for anything unusual on the broad band frequency."
The odd man nodded and sat, turning his head slightly away from the Captain - a move that made Christian curious to know more about him. "What is your name, Sir?"
The man turned and looked him directly in the eye. Christian had to step back to lessen the penetrating gaze and study the man's features. The man with tightly curled receding ginger hair smiled apprehensively, showing faint crow's feet beside his temples and laughter lines around his thin-lipped mouth.
The man's general appearance caused Christian to think of the older members of his parents' former acting troupe who often applied heavy make-up when playing roles a lot younger than they were. This man's slightly gnarled hands and almost visible wrinkled lower neck-line gave hints of his true age, but it could not be said that the man was not attractive, or appeared unfit. Indeed, his garb was positively youthful. He clearly wanted to avoid the perils of old age for the maximum amount of time possible, but Christian thought it curious that he had not had cosmetic surgery - which would have been far more effective.
"Madison," the man replied after a long pause, speaking in a mid-American baritone voice. "Judge Madison."
The name was so familiar, Christian almost felt the urge to throw his arms about the man and welcome him as a long lost friend. He sensed the man was famous - or infamous - but there was an underlying feeling of something sinister that went along with it. Christian wished he could place the name and face in context, but he couldn't.
Madison clearly saw this common response to his introduction written upon the Captain's face.
"Madison�" the Captain pressed. "Have we served together?"
"No, Captain," the man said in an authoritative voice. "But you are not mistaken, you do know me. I was the presiding law lord on Arianus 2 during the trial of the Ishnar separatists."
The words Arianus 2 prompted a flashback in Christian's mind to the days as a junior engineer's mate aboard the USS Tokyo. They had visited there along with three other starships providing a peaceful incentive while terrorists fighting on behalf of the staunchly traditional Ishnar people were brought to trial.
The Ishnar separatists had vehemently protested against its world government about joining the Federation. Ignored and overlooked during the preliminary negotiations, a small group of its people turned to violence to make their voice heard. The police over-reacted, the rest of the world turned against them, and so the situation escalated. By the time of the USS Tokyo's arrival, the conflict had resulted in nearly five thousand deaths.
Normally such a situation would cause the Federation to pull back until conflict was resolved locally, but a determined Federation representative, Judge Madison, managed to intervene and cut a deal. The Ishnar were offered relocation to a neighbouring system's small moon in order to allow them to maintain their traditions of isolation - in return, of course, for a cessation to the violence, and a handing over of the terrorists.
As Arianus 2 successfully completed its requirements for joining the Federation, the trial against the terrorists began - and Madison was honourably requested to play the role of presiding judge, given his recent success. Everyone assumed that the trial of the six Ishnar terrorist leaders was a mere formality - that they would be found guilty and sentenced according. The vote was in fact split 50/50, a political decision by the Arianus judges to make themselves appear to be indiscriminate. So it was that Judge Madison held the deciding vote.
Although his conscience had been pricked by accounts of the families and colleagues to the deceased, Madison's desire for peace was too great, and he let the terrorists go free. Rather than bringing peace, however, the decision created a new group of counter terrorists, and so the situation escalated to such a point where the Federation suspended Arianus 2's membership until the internal situation was resolved.
Blamed for the ensuing situation, and a conflict that had gone beyond the Arianus system and into interstellar space, Judge Madison was publicly branded a fool and thrown off the Federation Council's independent law lords bar. Reeling from such a massive change in his own life, Madison lashed back, giving candid interviews and speaking publicly on all manner of subjects, becoming a minor celebrity and someone who everyone loved to ridicule. His behaviour was increasingly unorthodox as he became friend to minor celebrities, and something of an anarchistic role model to younger people. His notoriety as having young female groupies around him brought more mockery. Gradually his popularity decreased and less was heard about him.
Christian hadn't heard of the man for nearly 6 years and wondered what he had been doing during that time - and indeed what had brought him to the Outer Zone. "Hit the alpha key, Mister Madison, and let me know if you hear or see anything suspicious."
Madison was clearly puzzled by Christian's lack of reaction - but was also grateful for it. He almost smiled and nodded acknowledgement. Christian turned away and raised his eyebrows in total amazement that such a man was serving albeit as a temporary member of his crew.
* * *
Inside the runabout, Narli was beginning to feel uncomfortable in the claustrophobic tightness of his radiation suit. His right antenna had a particularly gnawing itch as it rasped against the synthetic lining of the helmet - clearly designed with non-Andorians in mind. He had initiated the biohazard controls at the suggestion of the Captain, but, according to the computer, sensors could detect nothing unusual present in the air outside. He still felt no noticeable symptoms, and wondered why that should be the case when everyone else had fallen prey.
As he sat waiting for the bridge to contact him, the Andorian glanced out of the cockpit window and near fell off his seat. The slender, voluptuous figure of the Orion woman Hedrik appeared to be walking toward the runabout, one of the hangar doors wide open in the distance behind her. She glanced to her left and right at the bodies then noticed Narli through the runabout's forward viewport.
Narli was shocked, and threw himself forward, frantically waving for the young woman to retreat. Hedrik either didn't understand or didn't want to listen, shouting something inaudible and pointing back toward the corridor behind her.
Narli hit the external speakers. "Get out of here now, girl, you may be exposed!"
"Exposed to what?!" Hedrik stopped, legs apart and thrust her hands on her hips. "You've got a corridor full of unconscious men laying in what was their breakfast out there. What the hell is going on?"
Narli sat looking at the woman, dumbfounded. "Runabout to bridge!"
There was silence followed by a slow rasping sound, like that of a whispering vole of the northern Andorian veldt. "Bridge, respond. Captain Christian, is that you?"
Static replaced the strange sound, and Narli jumped as Hedrik rapped hard on the runabout's closed airlock. Narli released the airlock and waited for the woman to enter.
"Well?" Hedrik stepped over the prostrate forms of Struckchev, Lirik and an elegant New Parisian, all line up on the deck presumably by Narli, a smear-trail leading from where they had fallen. The smell was quite overwhelming
The Ambassador was astounded. "Don't you know what we've been doing for the past few hours?" Narli watched the younger woman step back to avoid a spreading puddle.
"I've been hard at it in the Computer Core, I came looking for the Commander. We, ah, have unfinished business," Hedrik smiled coyly. Narli's return stare brought a frown back to her face. "So want to explain what's been going on?"
* * *
Narli took a few minutes to bring Hedrik up to speed. "I think I feel okay as well," Hedrik said, clutching at her chest. "And thankfully, too. These symptoms are revolting."
"I'm sure it's being caused by the aliens, but the runabout sensors are saying there's nothing unusual out there," Narli reached up to scratch his antenna, feeling the smooth surface of the helmet above it instead.
"Have you tried the transporter as a diagnostic?" Hedrik stepped over to the transporter controls confidently and pressed the padd several times. "As I thought, the recent pattern log shows those of Lirik and Struckchev both present."
"Of course they are," Narli nodded in stupified realisation.
Hedrik flicked her fingers over the controls. "I'd rather not transport a Medusan, dormant or not." In response to her commands Struckchev dematerialised then reappeared on the deck outside. Hedrik continued to tap. "Computer, compare these two transporter patterns and identify any variations."
The computer tribbled and trilled a couple of times, then spoke in its usual maternally superior tone. "There is an unknown chemical substance present in the brain of the second transporter pattern."
"Chemical- in the brain?" Narli turned and walked over to join the Orion. She had succeeded where he had failed.
"Display a visual of the unknown chemical," she spoke calmly. In the small rectangular display a highly magnified microscopic view of Struckchev's brain appeared, strange alien-looking spider-like globules attached to strange globular spheres rolling around in the brain fluid and bumping off cell walls. "What are THEY?"
The Ambassador shook his head.
"Computer, can you make a best guess as to the nature of the alien chemical?" Hedrik glanced down at Lirik, imagining billions of those spider-like atoms careering around in his head.
Another trill was followed by: "The chemical is similar in composition to 37 known pheremones-"
"Pheremones?!" Hedrik was shocked. "I hadn't expected that."
"It explains why the sensors didn't identify them as unusual - pheremones are a natural bi-product of many humanoids," Narli stated.
A vague sound enhanced through the radiation suit's helmet sensors distracted Narli, and he turned toward the door. A young Bolian male poked his head around the corner. "Ah, excuse me-?"
Narli looked at Hedrik who stared back at him, then turned to the young, nervous looking man.
* * *
On the hangar deck Narli stood on the runabout's nacelle in front of a crowd of assorted blue, green, red and orange individuals. It seemed plainly clear that it was their individual pigments giving them a natural defence against the alien pheremones. He had removed his helmet, but still wore the rest of the protective suit. In all there were only thirty-three of them unaffected by the pheremones that had swept throughout the ship, although several dozen more were not as dramatically affected.
"The Captain intended us to use the runabout to trace other aliens, I say we should continue with that course of action. If we find them, they may be able to help the others," he said.
Hedrik, standing below and in front, raised a hand. "We don't know how long that will take, they could be many light years from here."
Narli didn't respond, but instead nodded at a young orange-hued male at the back of the small crowd. "Garl Cro Id, Ewnes Distribution Network," the man introduced himself as they had been instructed. "Can't we use the runabout to produce an antidote?"
Hedrik turned and replied before Narli had thought of his reply. "We can learn as much as we like about the pheremones and chemicals they become, and of the effect they have on the victim's brain, but we don't have any means of producing a serum."
"Marinet, Twelfth Lord of Vokka," a red-skinned, two-foot high man bellowed, his voice belying his stature. "Can we not send a communication rather than taking the runabout? It seems to be our only means of escape if anything goes wrong with this bucket of junk, and I for one don't want to be stranded here for those K'Tani monsters to find."
Narli raised his hand as a murmur of agreement drowned out his attempts to reply. "Obviously we cannot send a transmission or the K'Tani might here it and come looking for us. Besides, the Helan leader, Ganhedra, said this area of space contains races hostile to outsiders."
"All the more reason to take the runabout and leave," Marinet retorted loudly.
This time Hedrik replied, joining Narli on the nacelle. "And go where? In case you hadn't noticed, sir, those Starfleet people helped us back on Helub, and helped us again when the holographic K'Tani attacked us. We owe them, don't you think?"
A muffled reply indicated a begrudging agreement. "That settles it," Narli decided to cut the public meeting short. "Those of you who have any kind of piloting or technical skills please see this young lady, the rest of you please - try and make our shipmates comfortable."
A look of outrage and horror spread across several faces, urging others to step eagerly forward as technical volunteers. "There are hundreds of them, and only a few of us!" shouted a slinky, bald orange woman. "It will take days to help them all."
Hedrik smiled. "All the more reason for us to get going." She turned to Narli. "So who takes the runabout out there?"
Narli scratched his goatie. "You're a pilot?"
The younger woman shrugged an 'almost' response.
"I'll take the runabout, you better get to the bridge," the Ambassador stepped inside the runabout, but was halted by Hedrik's firm grip on his shoulder.
"I'm acting Captain, am I?" she sounded almost excited by the prospect.
"If that's what you want to call yourself, then yes," he walked inside, then immediately reappeared. "I thought I asked for everyone to be removed from here?" he asked the milling group, who looked sheepish.
Hedrik leaned in toward him. "None of them wanted to touch the Medusan, and I don't blame them," she said.
"Great," Narli said and stepped inside, closing the airlock behind him.
* * *
***
ACT 4