EP 9 "EPISODE NINE - LIBERTY BEL" - ACT 4
The Yacht reunited with the Beta Section in the belly of Bel’s ship just after midnight, Fantasy time. Across the comm channel, Jackson seemed more upset than relieved to hear of the two survivors. Rather than hope out of desperation, she just saw the enormity of their perilous situation reaffirmed.
A small army of Bel’s men relieved the Yacht’s tired crew, allowing them to be ferried over to the Beta Section for a slap-up meal as provided by her own kitchen staff. It seemed that in the long day they’d been away, significant progress had been made to the repairs of the Command Section, though the engine room was still to be sorted.
As Christian made his way into the familiar location of the once-Beauty Spa, he noted (almost with pride) that everyone, volunteers and the passengers alike, it seemed, had stayed up to share the experience – even though they’d all been fed and watered hours earlier. They were merely keen to hear of the others’ experiences, glad to have their shipmates – and their Captain – back, and were now very excited to hear that another vessel, the Barfleur, was possibly still at large.
Christian watched Commander Struckchev swallow hard as Lirik recounted between gulped mouthfuls his part in their ‘adventure’ to Fraxon and other crew. Christian suspected it was more to wind the Commander up than to be proud and boastful, though the Helan individual particularly lapped it up.
Bel was pleased the mission had been a partial success, though expressed her annoyance that Christian’s actions put her men at risk. The booby trap idea she said was unnecessary, even though she fully understood why they had done it. She also decided in her own mind to regard Narli with a great deal more caution in future – and advised Christian to do the same.
Christian watched Bel step to one side and, using a compact device, order her own Bridge crew to cross the border into the Penzar Empire. A border outpost commander owed her a dirty favour, and would allow them to cross without question. Their destination was a trading colony for long-range interstellar ships – more of a huge depot for outsourcing goods in smaller ships across a greater area. Their massive ship wouldn’t look at all out of place there, and its configuration was not only legal but known to the authorities as good ol’ Captain Bel’s ship.
“You know, I’d like to take a look around the inside of your ship, if you don’t mind my insatiable curiosity for engines,” he said, delighting in the soft, meaty creaminess of the filling to some kind of pastry – the fifth he’d eaten consecutively.
“Are you making a pass at me?” Bel asked in mock humour. It went over Christian’s head. “Never mind,” she said, and refilled his glass.
Across the milling throngs, Souveson was sticking to the vegetable and fruit fare rather than risk a potential reacquaintance with the head. She’d been caught short by alien ‘food’ several times in the past, and didn’t want to risk that happening now. Though she felt dog tired, she was more than pre-occupied by the events of the last two days. Although the dead bodies and the vision of the wrecked ships were fresher in her mind, here she couldn’t help but study all the many and various faces of the volunteer crew and survivors. Who among them was on their side? Who might be a security risk? So little was known about their newfound associates, and as Head of Security it was primarily her job to find out.
A presence behind her – it was Murak, offering a plate of sweet pastries. Souveson smiled. “Glad you’re up and about so soon, Murak.”
“It’s good to see you too,” Murak said, then blushed wondering if it were the wrong choice of words as the Ensign seemed a little startled.
To their right, leaning in the shadows against a bulkhead, Lieutenant O’Hara picked at a plate of food. She wasn’t hungry, but wanted to maintain the pretence of eating heartily so that people didn’t make conversation. She watched Christian exchanging pleasantries with the Captain of the repair ship. O’Hara desperately wanted to go over, pull him to one side, and make her confession, but her legs wouldn’t allow it.
As if by divine intervention, Ambassador Narli’s obvious frame appeared through the crowds to join the Captain in conversation. O’Hara stood bolt upright, nearly dropping her plate. She felt a presence next to her – it was Lirik, and he was looking at Narli also.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us,” he smiled. O’Hara’s face flushed, her mouth dropped open. “It’s the Medusan side of me,” he explained. “Has an uncanny knack of being able to sense lifeforms.”
O’Hara felt sick. How many more would know before she could tell the Captain? But of course, that wasn’t her worst nightmare.
“We were both wondering,” Lirik said amused, “Commander Struckchev and I that is, if you wouldn’t mind doing us a favour?”
O’Hara turned to be face to face with Lirik and mouthed a favourite obscenity, shouldered past the Yeoman and departed.
“Bored someone with your unerring charm again?” a voice said behind Lirik as he watched O’Hara roughly push through the crowds. He felt a little shame at not being more tactful with the Nurse, and even now considered going after her to apologise. Reb stepped up beside him. “Don’t worry, I have that affect on a lot of people myself.”
“I wonder why,” Lirik retorted automatically. He was a little surprised to see Reb’s face hurt and watched as he, too, walked swiftly away. Lirik now felt doubly bad – it seemed he couldn’t say anything right.
In a quiet corner of the spa, masked by an ornately decorated folding screen that provided a makeshift service area for discarded cutlery and glasses, Commander Struckchev pressed his face hard into Cadet Yip’s resisting mouth. She struggled, though not too violently as this was a former lover and superior, but his big hands gripped the back of her neck and arm hard and she felt not a little pain. She was aware nobody could see, and while wanted rescuing, also felt shameful at the thought of being caught like this. It may make people start to talk. The sharpness of the Commander’s stubble scraped against her soft cheek and she muffled a protest – Struckchev was like a man possessed, and she feared he may take this further right there and then.
But as Yip felt the Commander slow his violently passionate onslaught, Yip took her chance and wriggled free from his face, though not the strong hand that gripped her tightly around the bicep. She decided on a near-hysterical outburst, over-emphasised to try and jolt him out of his dark fantasy.
“Back off, Commander!!” she wrenched free of his arm in a well-practiced Aikido move. “It’s over!” she shouted/whispered, brandishing a finger at him. “I’m not interested. Just … just stay away from me!” She didn’t wait for a response, but turned and marched off, her heart in her mouth. In many ways, Yip couldn’t believe she had got away from him. As if it hadn’t happened, she moved through the bustling crowd, smiling and nodding as she made her way in an unknown direction. She found herself suddenly on the other side of the room, standing beside the half Medusan. In fact she felt him before she saw him.
As Yip looked up, Lirik was staring right at her, a look of grave concern and not a little venom in his penetrating eyes. Then, he looked up, beyond her, craning his neck slightly to see over people’s heads and cranial outcroppings. Yip followed his gaze and saw fleetingly through the crowd, a foul-faced Struckchev walking out from behind the screen. She whipped her head back to Lirik – but he had gone, vanished without trace.
Lirik couldn’t help a wicked smile, despite the seriousness of the situation as he made his way behind the podium and backdrop. He peeped through the curtain at Yip’s confused and surprised expression. It was an old trick, slipping away like that, but one that often left the other party slightly in awe.
The Yeoman had been thinking about Yip and her part in Struckchev’s minor deception in recent days. Up to recently, she’d been a consummate cadet, moving on from the Hell that had been such a part of her salvation concerning her ship’s demise. Yet it seemed to him that she also still felt something for the Commander, maintaining her silence, possibly to protect him rather than to protect herself. Or was that just a devious excuse? Whatever, Lirik had let her know in no uncertain terms he was keeping an eye on them both.
Still, Lirik reminded himself, however he disliked Struckchev’s behaviour, it was obvious that the Kosovan was not on an emotionally even keel. If he was ever going to make it back from a slippery slope into depression or aggressive compulsive behaviour, he was going to have to face up to certain bare facts and get on with some healthy mourning. In part, that’s why Lirik had wanted to go ahead with the challenge so much. He knew it would focus the Commander on something else besides his own self wallowing (possibly self loathing), and as it was aligned with a mutual rivalry, his emotional state might hopefully balance out in the process.
Several paces away, Judge Madison couldn’t believe how nervous he was feeling. Since he’d volunteered for duty as part of the crew, he’d been kept busy, certainly, but mostly on immediate repair needs and as a general hand. Now he hoped that with the Captain and Commodore and their command team focussing on getting things ship shape, he was going to be offered a worthy position among the crew. Since the Captain had returned, it gnawed at Madison to want to know. He took the plunge and surged forward.
“Excuse me, Captain,” he stood between Christian and Bel. “I was wondering when the volunteers were going to be assigned to a more..er..permanent role on board?”
Christian’s face was stony. “In due course, Mister Madison.”
The Judge forced a smile and nodded. As he was about to walk away, the Captain added: “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be assigned a role appropriate to your status and experience.”
Madison felt it like a bullet through the heart, but forced a smile still. “Thank you, Sir. I’m sure I will.”
As he walked off Bel nudged Christian. “What was that all about?”
“The man’s a walking menace,” Christian muttered then rescinded. “Or at least he was.”
Reb loitered to the side of the main crowds. He couldn’t believe his own train of thought. Rapidly, he’d gone from being so enthusiastic about being a part of Christian’s bridge crew, to acknowledging the enormity and reality of what was going on. Whatever noble and sanctimonious reasons he could think of, he couldn’t escape the overriding feeling that he just shouldn’t be among these people. It had been a fluke that he’d ended up in the Outer Zone as it was. And after several weeks among the others, he was beginning to realise he would never fit in. Moreover, he didn’t want to fit in. Sure, he could stay and give it a go, but he knew himself too well. However hard he tried, he was sure to fail in the end. That’s if he didn’t get killed first. In a rare moment, Reb felt clarity of thought.
* * *
The next day, Bel’s ship had taken up position on the outskirts of the trading system. Her men were exceptional - working round the clock the damaged hull and connection plant on the separation furrow of the Command Section and the ruptured pin on the Command Yacht were fixed and ready for testing. Because her men could not go onto the Passenger Section until the spider infestation had been dealt with, they had focused on the Beta Section's damaged hull.
All the Starfleet officers were impressed with the amazingly speed of Bel’s crew. On the downside, the volunteers were left speechless, or miles behind on their shadowing of the dock workers. So most abandoned the idea, also adding that they didn’t want to impede their impressive work.
Before the day was over, the ships had been reconnected, disconnected and reconnected again without a hitch. Christian found that significant progress had also been made on the damaged Command Section Warp engine nacelles, though the warp drive itself would take a lot more work.
O’Hara had a few casualties to attend to – minor accidents mostly, and some complications from previous injuries. She was pushing to get use of the Passenger Section Medical Centre as soon as possible. And Christian agreed, as he wanted to begin routine medical checks of everyone on board as soon as possible.
Up to that evening, Lirik has been busy also, working on plans for accommodation, and assisting the Captain and Commodore in their preliminary assessment of the volunteer crew. Christian had since reassigned him along with several other officers to begin interviewing the passengers in depth.
*
Bel’s men successfully entered the spider’s lair on the Passenger Section. The thought made Christian’s blood run cold, and he didn’t envy his young Tactical Officer going along as part of the team. A stimulant had been released once sufficient food carcasses had been littered among the eggs. After a lull of several minutes the eggs hatched simultaneously, billions of tiny creatures pouring out – they looked more like a liquid they were so densly packed and moving so quickly, tumbling over each other. As soon as they started to pour out and swarm across the dead flesh, Bel’s team each used a powerful fine spray gun to apply each of the creatures with a scan lock substance. As soon as the fine mist wafted onto their tiny bodies the transporter team began beaming wave after wave of the creatures into an armoured stasis chamber moored beyond the hull of the main ship. The whole procedure lasted only a few minutes.
The next step would not prove so easy. Having eradicated all of the newly hatched spider creatures, large and small, they now had to hunt down the one, probably two adults. Vorn suggested that they were two mothers, possibly sisters or mother and daughter. With their offspring gone he suggested they wouldn’t stay still for long, although it depended on their "frame of mind". They could begin to seek a place to lay more eggs and hybernate, or they would be aware of their peril and possibly look for somewhere to escape to. Bel commented that it was not unknown for some species of spider to survive in the vacuum of space.
* * *
ACT 5