Erratic Nerd Writings

{{The adventure continues!  Though it goes against my nature to post this yet (it's not finished, dammit!), a certain Optic Spider convinced me I need to.  Things can always be edited later!  You can check out his blog on his obsession with music at: http://obsessivemusicdisorder.wordpress.com/  }}

He found four phaser rifles trained upon him as soon as he stepped through the outer airlock doors of his ship and onto the shuttlebay of the I.S.S. Enterprise.  His welcoming committee consisted of four obvious security types, the owners of those rifles, spread out in a square formation.  At the center of that square were two additional people; officers, he’d guess.  One was an Andorian male, the antennae atop his blue head flexing even as the man scowled at him severely.  The other…Kanor resisted the urge to growl appreciatively.  A flaming redheaded woman, who appeared to be human, was standing with her hands on her very enticingly curved hips.  She was wearing a simple jumpsuit, spotted with stains and even some minor tears here and there, though woefully none in any interesting areas. 

“See?  He spared us the trouble of having to force ourselves onto his ship; I’d say that’s friendly enough.”

Oh, that accent of hers was delightful.  He couldn’t quite place it, though.  It didn’t sound like anything from a region of Earth he had ever heard of, and he thought he had heard them all.

“He also came out armed to the teeth.  I can see three visible weapons right off the bat, and that’s not even trying.  This is my arena; we’re doing things my way.”  He raised his voice as he looked towards Kanor directly.  “Hands behind your head, Klingon, and don’t make any sudden moves.  My men might get too…jittery.”

Kanor wanted to roll his eyes at the Andorian’s horrible intimidation effort.  “Well technically, I’m not a Klingon; I’ve just got Klingon ancestry.”  He turned his head to one side a bit and pointed a finger at the sweeping curved point at the top of his ear.  “See? Clearly more than…”

“Hands on your head!”  the Andorian barked.  Kanor reluctantly complied, and the Andorian holstered the disruptor he had raised.  He then produced a scanning device and aimed it in Kanor’s direction.  “Light-grade body armor, a personal shield generator, and tech…lots of it.”

“Look, if there’s going to be a strip-search, I’d prefer if she was the one who…”

The Andorian shot him a look to kill, his antennae shifting to display his growing anger.  He noticed, however, the redhead’s lips compress, and the corners of her green eyes crinkle in amusement.   The Andorian stepped past his two forward guards and up to Kanor, his lip curling up in obvious disdain as he reached out to remove the disruptors slung on each hip.  Kanor flinched at the disarming, but suffered through it.  He wasn’t in a great bargaining position at the moment.

The Andorian’s eyes widened, however, as he realized what one of the disruptors was, his antennae almost straightening out fully.  “This…is a modified Varon-T disruptor…”

Kanor decided not to say anything, his face easing into a more neutral expression.  The Andorian grunted, then stepped back, out of arm’s reach, and circled around behind him.  He shot a quick glance at the redheaded woman, who had crossed her arms underneath her well-endowed upper body.  He saw her eyes lingering on the Andorian, and a look pass over her face he couldn’t quite make sense of.  She must have felt him looking at her, because she quickly shifted to look right at him, instead.  Judging from the scrutiny in her gaze, he could tell she was quite capable of seeing through his forced bravado.  He felt the Andorian give a tug to his Mek’leth, and bristled as he felt its weight removed from his back.  The Andorian then proceeded to pat him down for concealed weapons; he had several.

By the time the Andorian had stepped back, satisfied he had removed Kanor’s extensive amount of weaponry (he hadn’t), Kanor was extremely irritable.  The Bolian guard the Andorian had summoned over with an empty case stepped back, bringing the now-full container over to the redheaded woman.  She opened it up to peer inside as the guard resumed his position, reaching back to unsling his phaser rifle again and retrain it upon Kanor.

“My my, you do like your toys, don’t you?”  She hefted his Mek’leth, her eyes narrowing as they ran along the blade’s length, her fingers moving the weapon around, testing its weight, how it moved.  She seemed very comfortable with bladed melee weapons, he noted.

“Is there a fucking reason you’ve brought me aboard your ship and removed my personal belongings, MA’AM?”

She replaced the Mek’leth, closed the container, and smiled at him.  It was not a happy facial expression.

“Welcome aboard the I.S.S. Enterprise, boyo.”

“My name is Kanor.”

“Well, Kanor, I’m Commander Skid.  That raider that was chasing you belonged to a group of pirates, who…”

“Who were firing upon ME when you arrived, in case you didn’t notice.  We’re not exactly bosom buddies.  Why did you apprehend my vessel?”  Bosom; did he really have to use that choice of words?

She ignored it, though he had no doubt she noted the slip.  “The fact you were being fired upon, and not in league with them, is the only reason you’re still breathing right now.  So I’d be grateful, if I were you, the captain of this vessel has decided to talk to you first.  As it is, you botched up an operation we were conducting pretty badly, so…”

The Andorian, who had remained standing behind him, cleared his throat loudly, apparently exchanging a look with the woman.  She frowned, but spun around without another word, and started walking briskly towards a set of double doors on the far side of the shuttlebay.  Sweet Kahless, she looked just as good walking away as she did standing there looking at him. He wished that jumpsuit were form-fitting, even if it would create way too much of a distraction.

“Walk.” 

Kanor frowned at the Andorian’s tone, his rising irritation with the situation making him imagine spinning around to give the Andorian a quick lesson in proper security precautions and true intimidation, but he only imagined it, for now.  He started to lower his hands to his sides from his head when he felt the Andorian grab his hands and slap restraints on them quickly.  He clenched his jaw, resisting the swelling urge to fight.  Skid had made a valid point; he had gotten this far without violence against these Independent people, perhaps he could manage to keep it that way for a while longer.  His nostrils flared at the injustice from these amateurs, but he diligently stepped forward to follow the glorious backside of the redheaded beauty, the square of guards falling in to flank him as they moved.  The Andorian remained directly behind him, though at least kept the sense to stay out of range.

As he was escorted through the ship, Kanor took in as much as he possibly could.  The crew bustling to and fro in the corridors seemed to be quite a medley.  He saw Andorians, Tellarites, Vulcans, Bolians, Bajorans, Humans, and even some he actually wasn’t sure on.  They were all wearing either a jumpsuit like the voluptuous redhead up ahead, or the burgundy military-type uniform the Andorian and the four guards were sporting.  He had to admit, the military uniform had a cut to it that he enjoyed, even if it didn’t seem to have any armor-like qualities.  For a mercenary ship, it seemed to be maintained very well; well lit, clean, no areas in disrepair, missing, or simply destroyed.  There were…troughs, for lack of a better term, that seemed to run along each side of the corridors.  He couldn’t quite determine their purpose, but he noted some sort of sooty material spread sporadically along their lengths.

They took a turbolift up several decks; he noted the woman and the Andorian gripping and twisting handles that lined the perimeter of the car during the course of the trip, though none of the guards did.  When they stopped and stepped out into the new corridor, Kanor noted the troughs had a lot more of that sooty substance, and more frequently.  Sometimes in large piles; he couldn’t figure them out, or their purpose. 

They only encountered two other crewmembers on this deck, both of whom seemed to wordlessly exchange greetings with the redhead and the Andorian; a young human male, with artificially dyed green hair in large, foot-long spikes, and a young male Trill with short dark hair in a wild tousle.  The Trill was studying a PADD so intently on his way to the turbolift they had just vacated, he barely seemed to notice the entourage as they passed.  He looked up for a second, their eyes meeting briefly, and Kanor saw a tightening around the edges as he gave Kanor a head-to-toe appraisal that apparently caused the Trill’s brow to furrow, but he continued on without saying anything. When they turned down the only branch-off of this corridor they had come across, they ran into the human.  Kanor thought he was a slave of some sort, as there was a large chain dangling from his person, but upon closer scrutiny, he realized it was apparently cosmetic in nature; one end seemed to be attached to his left earlobe, while the other end seemed to be somewhere inside his uniform shirt, as it draped down his back, under his left arm, then disappeared into the cloth.  It seemed horribly inconvenient, not to mention a surefire target in a fight.  Kanor judged it would not take much at all to rip the chain out of the young man’s ear and deal excruciating pain.  He had a very smug look on his face as he passed by, and Kanor detected a very faint whiff of some scent upon the man’s person when he came closest that he couldn’t place.

This deck didn’t seem to be nearly as well trafficked as the other, and the décor seemed…nicer, somehow.  This side corridor was also lined with strange framed circles of some kind.  Some were black, some were gold, and they all had circular grooves in multiple concentric rings.  There were labels in the center of each, and below, within the frames, were little plaques of some sort.  They were evenly spaced at about eye level (average humanoid eye level, at least, which was in the neighborhood of Kanor’s shoulders), and went down the full length of the corridor on both sides.  Kanor speculated this deck was shaped like a U, with this corridor being a bridge between the two arms.  They stopped in front of the only pair of doors he had seen thus far.  He studied the framed circles just to the right and left of the door as the redhead pressed the page button and announced their presence towards the audio receiver.  He had no idea who “James Brown” or “JJ Cale” was, nor did he know why their names would be engraved onto plaques beneath some strange circles and mounted on a wall; regardless, he filed the names away in case they might serve some sort of strategic value in dealing with these people.

The doors swished open quietly, and Kanor was escorted in to the captain of this vessel.  The redhead strode ahead to stand beside the right hand of the man seated behind the desk, while the Andorian stepped to the opposite end, but remained on the side of the desk closet to Kanor. 

“Captain Kanor, sir; the pilot of the small scout ship we encountered with the pirates.”

The slender man got to his feet, his alert, dark green eyes meeting Kanor’s gaze unflinchingly.  He wore a uniform just like the others; however, he had multiple cosmetic piercings on his face.  One in the nose, two in the right ear, one in the left, and one just below his bottom lip.  He clasped his hands behind his back as he circled around to the front of the desk.

“Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Captain Kanor, I’m Commodore Kaz.  You’ve met Commander Skid and Lieutenant Sh’lan.”

Kanor glanced over at the Andorian, who simply glowered at him.  He wasn’t impressed.  So, this man wasn’t just a Captain, he was a Commodore.  That made things interesting.

“Yeah, real pleasant meeting, too, being forcibly pulled onto a strange ship, ejected from my own, and getting treated to an armed escort to talk with someone I’ve never even heard of before.”  He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.  “No offense.”  A vagrant lie.

Kaz returned a smile of his own, just as superficial.  “Let’s cut the shit, Kanor, shall we?  You’re no scientist…”

“Oh, you’d be fuckin surprised what I am.”

“That goes both ways.  Those pirates that were chasing you are…marginally competent, for pirates.  We’re out in the middle of nowhere.  You don’t strike me as the type of person who would go up against these pirates unless you had a specific reason to, especially with your scout ship, however heavily modified it may be.  What was the name of your ship, again?  Oddly enough, it doesn’t seem to have any identification, electronically or otherwise.”

Kanor smiled.  “The Lollipop.”

“Ahh.  It’s a good ship, then?  One Klingon…”  Kaz’s voice trailed off for a brief moment, his eyes darting to the pointed ears.  “…hybrid, in a scout ship, against a whole crew of pirates?  Why…sounds like you wanted something from them.”

“I was looking for a few dozen Orion slave girls; it’s just me on my boat, I don’t have any redheaded bombshells to warm my bunk.”

“Gee, I wonder why not?” the woman added, giving him a frigid frown.  She was leaning back against the wall behind Kaz’s desk still, looking at him.

“Orion slave girls are like greedy Ferengi; whereas redheaded bombshells are like a stable wormhole.”

“Hmph.”

“You obviously don’t know anything, if you’re going to compare them to something stable.” the Andorian said.  The redhead shot him a venomous smile; she wasn’t going to forget that anytime soon.

“You and I both know there were no Orion slave girls aboard that pirate ship, Kanor.”

“I wish I had you around to tell me that an hour or two ago, then, Commodore, might have saved me a lot of trouble.”

“You weren’t, perhaps, meeting the pirates, only to have something go sour?”

Kanor kept his expression the same, but leaped upon that small nugget of information.  They didn’t know why he was here for sure, not yet.  He had wondered if the pirates were meeting someone, a buyer, to sell their package to.  It was why he had decided to infiltrate their ship then; before someone he would have had more difficulty going up against got a hold of the Federation parcel, before the possibility of losing the whereabouts of the parcel had increased.  However, it reinforced his belief the Enterprise was after the same thing he had been.

“Look, I wasn’t meeting the pirates at all; I did, however, drop out of warp in the wrong place at the wrong time, alright?  Then my cloak failed.  You said it yourself; I’m flying a glorified scout ship.  I don’t have a cargo hold, and I certainly don’t have anything I could transfer to the pirates in some sort of payment.”

Kaz smiled again; this time, it seemed almost with some sort of satisfaction.  “Exactly.  Which is why I’m certain you came here to retrieve something, instead.  Mister Sh’lan, have your men escort our guest down…”

“You’ve got to be joking, right?”

Kaz looked up at Kanor, his eyes narrowed just slightly.  “Excuse me?”

“HE’S your chief of security?  Big Blue Lug?”  Kanor snorted.

Kaz reached out to place a hand lightly to the Andorian’s forearm; all that was apparently needed to restrain Sh’lan from attacking Kanor.  “Mister Sh’lan is a member of my crew, and my chief of security.  I’d advise you not to…”

Kanor made a loud noise of disgust and derision.  He was part Klingon; he knew how to articulate insults by mere sounds.  “He interrupted his own guard’s line of fire on three separate occasions; twice in the shuttlebay, and then again as we were leaving the turbolift.”

Sh’lan’s antennae curled down close to his head as he sneered at Kanor, his blue fingers tightening their grip on the phaser he had holstered to his left hip.  Kaz simply raised an eyebrow, while Skid bit her lower lip, rolled her eyes downward, and looked down at the deck.  He barreled on, trying to provoke the Andorian into attacking him.  He needed some chaos.  Kaz appeared to be weaponless to his trained eye, and, he determined, not a fighter.  He didn’t carry himself that way.  The only thing on his desk was a clipboard and stylus; neither of which would help defend him against Kanor’s assault.  If he could take the Commodore hostage, he could gain the upper hand.  Not the best plan, but the best option he could think of.  Once they took him away from the Commodore, or locked him up in a brig, the harder things would be.

“He placed restraints on me AFTER disarming me, not before.  He did a piss-poor job of ensuring I had no means to attack his superior officer other than my bare hands, let alone allowing me to see all I cared to look at on our way here.  He didn’t clear our path of personnel; I could have easily attacked and endangered several of your crew.  Of the four guards he decided to have escort me, only ONE is even remotely close to being worthy of the noun.”

“These are four of my best men!”  Sh’lan shouted.

“The guy to my right hasn’t stopped checking out Red over there since I stepped out of my airlock.  If he’s not checking out her ass, he’s simply gawking at her tits.”

The man’s eyes widened, his expression startled at being called out.  He had no visible hair anywhere on his body other than his eyebrows and eyelashes; and, combined with other telltale signs, Kanor guessed him to be a Deltan. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I completely agree, they’re fabulous.  Not the best way to guard someone, though.”

Kanor lifted his hands and pointed a thumb behind his right shoulder before he lost momentum.  “She should not be on active duty.  She’s limping on her right foot, and has been closing her eyes to take naps periodically this entire time, even while we were walking down the corridors.  Look in her eyes.  She’s exhausted, and in pain.”

Kaz looked past Kanor towards the guard in question, before shooting a glance at Sh’lan, who only fumed, his knuckles creaking as his fingers tightened even further around the hilt of his disruptor.

Kanor indicated the guard behind his left shoulder with his hands, barely stopping for breath.  “He’s good.  Alert, but not jittery.  Constantly maintaining a distance beyond my immediate reach, which is considerably greater than all in this room with perhaps the exception of Mister Sh’lan himself (not a good call), yet remaining close enough to attack promptly should I do anything.”  He ended by inclining his head towards the young Bolian to his left.  “This guy is a mess.  This is his first assignment or at least his first encounter with a potential hostile.  He almost fired upon the green-haired guy with the chain outside.”  That piqued Kaz’s interest, he noted; a lot.  “He’s sweating, and has wiped his hands multiple times on his trousers in an attempt to keep them dry so he doesn’t drop his weapon.  Which, I might add, has been set to kill since he handed my belongings to Red back there on the shuttlebay.”

There was a clattering sound as the poor Bolian dropped his phaser rifle with a gasp.  Fortunately, it didn’t go off.  Sh’lan darted forward to scoop up the rifle, glaring at the Bolian before looking at Kanor with narrowed eyes, his antennae writhing and flexing in agitation.  He hadn’t adjusted the power setting on the rifle.  “I knew I should have shot you as soon as you stepped out.  Damn bounty hunter!”

“Stand down, Mister Sh’lan.”  Kaz ordered.

Kanor smiled at the Andorian, who had moved in much too close to his captive, and now stood between Kanor and the Commodore.  He threw everything into the straining of his arms, which he had been busy exerting force with since he started pointing out Sh’lan’s mistakes.  The last push finally did it; the shackles finally tore apart, the sound of metal snapping made the Andorian’s eyes widen in surprise.  “Lastly, you damn stupid merc, I’m part Klingon AND Vulcan; which means you need some better fucking shackles.”

Everything seemed to happen at once.  Kanor threw himself forward at Sh’lan, using his larger mass to send them both sprawling onto the floor.  A flash of crimson light shot past Kanor’s right shoulder from in front of him as he fell, and he heard a feminine grunt behind him, accompanied by the sound of another phaser behind him discharging.  He was surprised he hadn’t been shot, but hopefully his gamble of confusing any shooters with his proximity to Sh’lan was paying off.  He was gambling his armor would protect him long enough to take out the worst of the threats in the room.

Sh’lan, however, was furious.  The phaser rifle was caught between them, and Sh’lan’s hands were trapped against his own body by the weapon and Kanor’s torso.  The Andorian finally managed to yank one of his hands free, but reeled back as Kanor head-butted him in the face, the boney ridge of Kanor’s forehead slamming into the Andorian’s nose and breaking it.  Sh’lan cried out in pain, but still hammered a powerful blow into the side of Kanor’s head.  It hurt, but didn’t do much other than fuel Kanor’s adrenaline.  Kanor could feel the Andorian attempting to angle the phaser rifle just enough so he could simply pull the trigger and shoot Kanor at point-blank range, so Kanor desperately reached up and simply grabbed the Andorian’s left antennae.  Sh’lan’s spine curved back sharply as the Andorian screamed in excruciating pain, so Kanor tightened his grip and simply ripped the appendage off his opponent’s skull.  Dark blue blood spewed out everywhere, and Kanor turned his head away to keep the ichor from his eyes; he dropped the antennae, and reached up with both of his hands to quickly snap the Andorian’s neck.

A sharp, piercing sensation blossomed near the base of his neck on the left, just above the curve of his shoulder armor, and it was his turn to cry out in pain.  Someone leaned over him, and he heard Kaz’s voice talking just beside his ear.

“Listen, and listen closely.  You so much as flinch wrong and I’ll sever your version of a carotid artery.”

Kanor became very, very still.

“I know you have what we want.  I could have easily simply killed you and taken it by force; however, I prefer to maintain a certain level of professionalism and courtesy for other professionals.”

Kanor couldn’t stop himself from shooting off a reply.  “But you’re perfectly okay taking what I rightfully possess by intimidation and force?”

“As I recall it, you were being shot at by those pirates.  You might have been able to give them the slip-maybe.  Either way, I’m giving you a MUCH better option than those pirates would have.”

Kanor fumed, but said nothing.  Kaz was right.

“I’m going to step back so we can talk again.  One professional to another.  No.  More.  Bullshit.  You’re trying my patience; I’m not afraid to go the easiest route here if you dictate it.”

Kanor nodded his head the tiniest of amounts to indicate his acceptance, not trusting himself to open his mouth just yet.  He felt the object Kaz had rammed into his flesh pull out, his own bluish-brown blood spilling out of his dark skin.  His nose flared as he pushed away the dead Andorian, his right hand reaching up to try and staunch the blood coming from between his collarbone.  Kaz had struck him very accurately; too far one way, his collarbone would have interfered with the blow, and too far the other, it would have severed his artery outright.  He sat up awkwardly, his eyes sweeping around to take in what had happened.

The Deltan man lay sprawled face down on the floor, apparently unconscious.  There was a scorch mark on his lower back that seemed to trail up and to the right; Kanor gathered the Deltan had been stunned by the “competent” guard that had been behind Kanor’s left.  That guard looked perfectly fine, and was situated by the doorway to the room, his eyes looking right at Kanor.  The exhausted limping woman that had been behind him on the right was laying slumped against the wall, a phaser blast straight to the chest having killed her.  That had been no stray shot, either; the aim was too precise, too direct.  The young Bolian had fallen to the floor not too far away, and was staring wide-eyed at the dead Sh’lan.  His bifurcated face was splattered with the dark blue blood of the Andorian security chief.  Kanor had never known Bolians to go pale, but this one’s skin tone seemed to be a lot lighter than any other Bolian he had ever seen before.  The poor youth was clearly suffering from major shock.

He turned his head to look up at Kaz, who stood in front of his desk wiping what looked like a bloody writing stylus off onto some square of fabric.  Skid stood beside her commanding officer, a long knife of some kind in her right hand, and an older style phaser in her left, possibly a Federation Type-2.  She wasn’t pointing either weapon in his direction, but she was certainly keeping a close eye on him. Judging from the lack of other possibilities, he pegged her as being the one who had shot the exhausted woman.  That being determined, he found his respect of her abilities go up even further.  He clenched his jaw, but got to his feet, not willing to sit on the floor while talking to Kaz; it would be a position of weakness.

Now that the adrenaline was receding, he felt the damage he had done in snapping the shackles from his forearms.  Both throbbed horribly, but he was certain he had fractured his left wrist.  Tiny rivulets of his bluish-brown blood trickled down from where the metal had scraped and cut the flesh around his wrists and lower hands.  He could endure the pain, but he would need to mind the loss of blood, to say nothing of the loss in grip.  He met Kaz’s eyes as he straightened his back.

“It would seem you had other issues other than me.”

Kaz smiled a bit, sitting the writing stylus on top of the clipboard on his desk, and then glancing at the blood seeping past Kanor’s fingers as he pressed at the wound in his neck.  He stepped forward a little and offered the cloth to Kanor, who took it grudgingly.

“You…could say that.  It could be said your assault on Sh’lan was very fortuitous for me.”

“Is this how you treat all members of your crew who cross you?”

“You wouldn’t understand.  Referring to him as a ‘member’ of my crew was generous, at best.  You have something we want.  I have something you want.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who has something the other wants.”  Kanor stated.

“You don’t want your life and freedom to leave unmolested?”

Kanor scowled.  “What do you propose?”

“You turn the item over to us.  We’ll collect the bounty.  I’ll offer you a…finder’s fee, as payment.”

Kanor snorted.  “I don’t fucking think so.  I did the work of getting it from those pirates; I did the work of finding it.  Fifty percent of the bounty.”

It was Kaz’s turn to laugh.  “You’re quite delusional.  We knew where to find it, and would have gotten it ourselves just fine.”

“Yet I got to it before you folks did.”

“Ahh, but you didn’t get AWAY with it before we came along, and therein lays your issue.  You stole it, but we’ve secured it.  Ten percent.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Twenty.  Need I remind you the small fact you’re getting to walk away from all of this, and were effectively rescued from being shot down?”

“Thirty.  I’ve apparently helped give you a good reason to have your security chief and his cohort back there killed, with the convenient package of having it look like…”

Their conversation was interrupted by the shrill shriek of a klaxon blaring overhead, followed shortly by an indicator lighting up on Kaz’s desk.  Kaz frowned, twisting at the waist to stab the button with a finger.

“Kaz here; report.”

“An unidentified vessel just dropped out of warp in the system.  They’re not responding to our hails, and we’re unable to classify their ship construction.”

“Oh, well, isn’t this just bloody fookin’ marvey…” the redhead mumbled.

Kaz shot Skid a look while frowning.  “I’m on my way.”  His gaze passed over Kanor, and he added.  “And have Doctor O’Neil report to my office; we have an injured guest and crewmember that need medical attention.  Plus the bodies of Lieutenant Sh’lan and Ensign Travers.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Kaz straightened up as he released the button on his desk.  “You’ll remain here, under guard, while…”

“The fuck I will.  We’re not done here, and I’m not going to just wait around while leaving my life in the hands of people I don’t know.”

“And I’m not about to invite a hostile stranger aboard the bridge of my ship during a potential combat situation.  Ensign Munson?”

The alert guard near the door came to attention.  “Sir?”

“Keep your weapon on heavy stun, maximum setting.  If he approaches you in any way, fire, multiple times.  Do not assume he is down until you have safely confirmed such, and do not hesitate to stun Doc O’Neil if she’s in the way as well, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

Kaz glanced over at the young Bolian.  “Keep an eye on Ensign Ikkig, as well, and ensure the Doc looks him over.  Skid, with me.”

Kanor growled as Commodore Kaz and Commander Skid both headed towards the door, making sure to not break Ensign Munson’s line of sight or interfere in his shot.  He felt a womanly hand swat his backside as Skid passed by, and was temporarily silenced by the surprise. 

“Well fought, boyo; but save the growlin for the bedroom, hmm?”

She looked over her shoulder briefly with a smirk as she sauntered off behind Kaz, and despite his anger at the frustration of his situation, Kanor couldn’t help appreciate the sway of those hips.  As the door shut behind the two, Kanor turned to glare at the unconscious Deltan on the floor.  Damn aphrodisiac-like pheromones.

                                                                           *****

When the doors reopened a couple of minutes later, Kanor was again introduced to another attractive human female.  While not overtly sexual like Commander Skid, this Doctor O’Neil was very pretty.  She had shoulder-length jet-black hair she had pulled back in a simple ponytail, and an average build; pale, delicate features, with faint lines near the corners of her blue eyes that seemed to indicate a jovial demeanor.  Indeed, the first thing she did upon entering was smile warmly in his direction, an expression that only seemed to increase her attractiveness.  He unwittingly found himself more at ease with his situation just by her being there.  Bedside manner-check.

“Well you’re certainly not the average guest we have aboard the Lady.”  She exchanged a glance with Ensign Munson, who nodded, before heading over towards him.  Her eyes darted around the room as she approached, quickly sizing up the situation.  Her eyes lingered on the Bolian, but she didn’t deviate from her course.  Stopping on his left (leaving a good clean angle for Munson, Kanor noted), she dropped to one knee, settled her med-case down on the floor, and started pulling out things she’d need right away.  She took his hand away from the puncture wound Kaz had given him on the neck first, and began chatting.

“I’m Doctor O’Neil, as I’m sure you’ve heard.  You can call me Marcie; I have a feeling we’re going to get along great.”

Kanor grunted.  “You’re here to fix me up; what’s to get along over?”

She grinned.  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll see each other quite a bit.”  She glanced down at his wrists as she cleaned the area on his neck.  “That eager to get your hands around someone’s neck?”

He couldn’t help but grin, and shoot a glance across the room at Munson; the security officer was still standing by the door, alert.  “I had to teach someone a valuable lesson.”

She actually laughed.  “Oh, Sh’lan certainly deserved it; I don’t think you’d find many on board who would disagree with you.”  She glanced over at the dead woman Skid had shot in the far corner.  “Especially since that population was reduced, too.”

Kanor mulled that, and the implications, over.  A ship with warring factions was very useful information.  “What did you mean, ‘the Lady’?  Isn’t this the Enterprise?”

“Oh, of course.”  Having cleaned and treated the wound, she slapped a self-adhering patch onto his flesh before moving on to his wrists.  “But she’s a Lady, with a capital ‘L’, the Enterprise.  We treat her like one.  At least, the best of us do.”  He noticed her eyes glance over at Sh’lan.  “Those who don’t, usually don’t last long on here; the Commodore makes sure of that.”

He hadn’t noticed it while she was working on his neck wound, but it seemed like every time her skin came into contact with his, he felt a distinct tingling sensation.  He didn’t like it, it made him uneasy.  He wondered why she wasn’t wearing gloves of some sort, but admittedly didn’t know much about modern medical practices.  He tried to ignore the unsettling sensation and focus on gathering intelligence.

“So, Commodore Kaz’s word is law on here?”

She laughed heartily, having pulled out some scanner device to investigate his left wrist.  “Oh, you’re cute; trying to fish for information in a roundabout fashion.  Very quaint.  Yes, we’re definitely going to get along well.”

He frowned at that reaction, which was only punctuated more vividly by that tingle again as she reached out to turn his hand over, moving her scanner along his palm.  “You seem to think I’m going to be on this ship for a while, and we’re going to be friends.  I can assure you, this won’t be the case.”

She looked up to meet his gaze, grinning.  “Of course not.  You work alone; it’s not like you’ve been feeling disconnected or lonely or anything.”

She was making assumptions based on his chosen line of work.  She had to have been briefed on him or something before arriving.  “Precisely.”

She pulled out another device and began circling it around his left wrist.  It meant she had to hold his hand and wrist area almost constantly.  He tried not to squirm.

“You should take it; I think you’d find yourself benefitting a lot from the situation, more than just financially.”  She finished mending his left wrist and let it go, finally, then changed a setting on her device.  Unfortunately, she then picked up his right hand to work there.

“What are you referring to?”

She finished with his right wrist quickly enough, and looked up at him with a smile as she put the last of her things away in her med-case.  A brilliant, disarming smile that was very unsettling; akin to the tactile tingling, even.  “And I really, really like milk chocolate.”

Without another word of explanation, she picked up her med-case and moved over towards the Bolian Ensign, who had been sitting with his back propped up against the wall staring at the dead Andorian in silence.  What the hell was that all about?

“Hey, Ash, it’s Doctor Sam.  How’re you doing, buddy?”

He scowled at the short woman’s back, confused.  Hadn’t she said her name was Marcie?  He shot another glance over at Ensign Munson.  The Ensign was looking right at him, expressionless, but attentive.  It didn’t seem like he was going to be zoning out or sneaking a nap in anytime soon.  He looked over at…the Doctor as she scanned the shocked Ensign and continued talking to him in comforting, soothing tones.  At least she knew what she was doing, apparently, as he felt physically fine, now. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get a feel for the ship itself.  The red-alert klaxon had been silenced not long after Kaz and Skid had departed for the bridge, though the red indicator lights were still flashing.  He felt the slightest bit of inertia affecting him, and speculated the ship was engaging in some above-average maneuvers, though it was hard to tell without being more experienced in the ways it moved.  He needed to get out of here; he’d prefer to be on his ship, but the odds of escaping the Enterprise while it was engaged against a potential hostile were slim.  The bridge, then; at the very least, to see what was going on, and perhaps see into how the crew and their commanding officer handled the situation.

“I’m going to excuse you from duty, Ash.  Why don’t you head down to your quarters for now; I’ll contact you shortly and set up some time for you to talk with someone…”

He opened his eyes and looked over towards Kaz’s desk, where he had last seen the container with all of his weapons.  For the most part, they were easily replaced; that Varon-T, however, was something he wanted back; he’d be willing to risk dealing with Munson for it, certainly.

It wasn’t there, however.  He mentally replayed what had happened, but simply didn’t catch what Skid had done with it.  He had been trying not to pay much attention to her so he wouldn’t be distracted.  Couldn’t be helped, then.

He mulled on his next course of action, and just how different and customized the bridge of the I.S.S. Enterprise could possibly be.  He recalled the bridges on most Federation vessels as being separate modules specifically designed to be customizable to the specific mission parameters and preferences of the commanding officer.  It’d be pretty random what their layout up there might be.  The pirate ship he had a structural layout of before teleporting aboard; with this ship, there were too many variables to safely account for.  He turned his head to one side, trying to angle his face and arms to block view of his mouth without being too obvious as he whispered.

“Cypher, would I be able to bodyslide outside into the corridor?”

He glanced at Munson, trying to pass his positioning off as a casual, brief occurrence.  Munson’s eyes narrowed, and Kanor saw the man’s fingers tighten ever so slightly on his phaser rifle.

“Yes, I promise I’ll contact you, Ash.  Go ahead.”  the Doctor said.

“Affirmative.  I recorded everything during your journey through the ship.”

The Bolian ensign had gotten to his feet, and was making his way towards the door.  He’d have to cross Munson’s line of sight to get to it, and the Doctor had her back to him, packing up her med-kit so she could move over to the unconscious Deltan.  Now was the best chance he was going to get, and he’d have to move fast; they’d be able to track him too easily on his unique lifesigns alone.

“Hold on just a second, Ensign, let me…”

The Bolian continued right across the sight-path, oblivious to Munson’s attempt at trying to get him to stop so the guard could reposition himself.

“Bodyslide by one, corridor.  Now.”

“Dammit, Ikkig…!”

Kanor saw Ensign Munson shove the dazed Bolian out of the way, his phaser rifle held up and braced as he took aim, but the green light had already enveloped Kanor.  It’s telescoping brightness sucked Kanor out of the room, only to expand outside in the corridor and deposit him onto the deck.  Kanor leaped to his feet, checking for potential hostiles.  No other guards.  Again, poor security planning; he would have had multiple pairs of guards posted all along the length of this corridor.

He was at one of the junction of corridors, so he took off running towards the turbolift doors.  He hoped the turbolift wasn’t programmed to respond only to voice commands from crewmembers, though he doubted it would be.  He stepped through the swishing open doors, and turned to face them as they closed. 

“Bridge.”

The car didn’t move.  He frowned, looking off to one side in hopes of seeing a manual interface screen, and instead spotted the strange handles that ringed the circumference of the car.  He reached out for one of them, twisted it like he had seen Skid do earlier, and tried again.

“Bridge.”

The turbolift started rushing upwards, and Kanor reached for his armor to begin assembling a pair of crude blades from various innocuous-looking components of it’s design.  The red indicator light was flashing in here, as well; the ship was still on red alert.  Surely there would be guards posted on the turbolift doorways.  He wasn’t trying to take the bridge by storm, but he wasn’t going to be recaptured, either.  The car slid to a stop after a brief jaunt, and as the doors opened, he stood to one side of the entrance.

“…lorus, I really need some information on that thing!”

Kanor cautiously stepped out with one foot onto the bridge, remaining in the turbolift doorway as he quickly scanned the area.  Kaz was in a seat in the ringed area in the center of the bridge, with two people seated a few feet in front of him at the helm and navigation stations.  Beyond them, on the far side of the circular bridge, Kanor spotted Skid hunched over a set of consoles.  He didn’t let himself enjoy the view, as much as he wanted to.  It was easier to focus without that Deltan’s pheromones playing havoc with his hormonal levels.  A voice to Kanor’s immediate right spoke up.

“I am attempting to, sir.  However, whatever the hull is comprised of, it is proving to be resistant to our scanning techniques and equipment.  I am preparing a probe.”

Kanor glanced to his right, to the owner of the nearly emotionless voice.  At first, he thought the tall, dark-haired man with the full, impeccably trimmed beard was a Vulcan; he certainly had the ears.  But, with closer examination, Kanor realized he was a Romulan.

“Launch when ready, we need info.  Drei, still no response to our hails?”

On the other side of the bridge, at a station mirroring the one the Romulan sat at to his right, and to the left of another set of turbolift doors, the green-haired man with the chain in his ear Kanor had encountered in the corridor on his way to Kaz’s office, turned towards Kaz to respond. 

“Negative, sir; however, Ensign Muns…intruder on the bridge!”

Multiple faces whirled to look in his direction, following Drei’s gaze, and Kanor crouched down as he held his hands up, though he still clutched his makeshift blades. 

“I’m not here to attack!”  He sensed motion towards his right, and quickly shifted his body slightly towards the Romulan, who had gotten up from his chair and circled around his station.  Fast.  He carried himself well; a fighter, Kanor estimated.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…”  Kaz pushed aside two sections on either side of his seat that seemed to be designed to keep him from being knocked out of it, and stormed towards Kanor, his eyes livid.  He stopped outside of Kanor’s reach, however.

“What the fuck are you doing on my bridge; we’ve got a situation right now, I don’t have time for this!”

Kanor edged a step back, narrowing the field of danger for incoming attacks.  “And I’m not here to interfere; but I won’t be put aside like some kreshnar.”

Kaz and Kanor stared each other down, each of them resolute, unyielding.  The Romulan officer looked back and forth between the two of them, waiting for some indication from his commanding officer on how he should proceed.

“Sir, I believe the vessel just sent a tight-beam transmission towards the pirate ship.”

Kaz’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t look away as he responded to Drei, the communication’s officer.

“The pirate ship?  Can you decrypt it?”

“Negative, sir.  It’s…difficult to even identify it as a communication signal; I’ve never encountered anything quite like it.”

Kaz frowned, his gaze still not wavering.  Kanor saw something flicker in those eyes, though; a decision made.  He gestured to his right at Kanor, and then turned to head back to his chair, his jaw clenched.  “Selorus, get that probe launched.  Skid, get our team back aboard from that raider.  Jax, once they’re home, back us off from the raider, nice and easy.”

Multiple “aye, sirs” followed Kaz’s rapid fire of orders.  The Romulan officer, Selorus, gave Kanor the once over before making a sound that indicated he wasn’t impressed.  He returned to his station, however, his fingers deftly moving across his console to prepare the probe.  Kanor, meanwhile, stepped to the left where Kaz had indicated, which seemed relatively out of the way.  He slipped his blades into the cuffs of his sleeves for now; easily accessible, but leaving his hands free.  He finally looked to the main viewscreen, and was unable to suppress his reaction at what he saw.

A massive…structure hung in space.  He assumed it was a ship, as it seemed to be moving, but it was outside all conceptions of a “ship” he had ever encountered, and was huge.  The center of it was comprised of an enormous ring; bigger in circumference than a small planet, possibly even a large one, it was hard to grasp just how big.  Jutting out from that ring, equally spaced all around, were…spikes, or booms of some kind.  They seemed to be trailing behind the ring almost like tendrils, but they appeared to be wider vertically.  Whatever the material used in constructing it made it difficult to see, or perhaps it was just the size; shadows from the system’s sun seemed to play over it oddly. He regained control of his wide-eyed and slack-jawed expression.

“Probe launched.” Selorus said.

Kanor glanced over at Selorus’ science station, trying to see if he could read any of the information on the Romulan’s screens, but he was too far away to make it out.

“I’m still trying to make sense of that transmission, sir, but…”  Drei’s long spiked hair didn’t even waver as the man shook his head.  “I can’t even lock down how it’s being transmitted.  There’s nothing in our computer to even start to correlate it to.”

Kaz seemed to take this all in stride as he sat in his chair, eyeing the construct on the screen.  “I need my people back aboard, Skid…”

The redhead looked up from where she had taken a seat at one of the engineering stations.  “Last person aboard now, sir.”

“Backing us off of the raider, one-quarter impulse.”

Kanor’s eyes moved to the individual who had spoken in front of Kaz, sitting at the left-hand station piloting the Enterprise.  He spotted a series of dark-colored spots along the side of the man’s neck, and realized it was the young, intent Trill he had encountered down below on his way to Kaz’s office.  He recalled Kaz referring to him as “Jax” a few moments ago.  It was much easier to keep track of all these names with faces to go along with them.

A woman spoke up from a station further along the curve of the bridge that housed Drei’s communications station and Skid’s bank of engineering consoles.  It was the last station along that left side, close to the viewscreen.

“Sir, they’ve activated a different kind of beam; it seems to be scanning the pirate’s ship.”

Kaz looked towards Selorus.  “Talk to me, Lieutenant.”

The Romulan shook his head.  “None of this is making any sense.  I cannot even determine what that ship is made of; there does not seem to be any localized power system at all.  I cannot even detect any lifesigns, though these readings are so…erratic, they could be there, and I just cannot recognize them as such.”

Kanor heard the turbolift doors to his left open up, and as he glanced over to see who it was, Ensign Munson stepped out, his phaser rifle held at the ready, his eyes flashing as they settled on Kanor.  Without thinking, Kanor swiftly moved in on Munson’s advance, stepped within his guard, and quickly clamped his right hand upon the precise set of nerves where Munson’s neck met his shoulders.  Munson’s eyes rolled up into his head as his body went limp, but Kanor took his weight, gently lowering the man down to the deck, away from the walkway.  He looked up to see Kaz watching him, having turned his chair around.  Kanor lifted his chin slightly, defensive.

“Better to remove a volatile element for the moment.  He’s unharmed; and, sadly, lacking in close quarters defensive training.”

“Sir, there’s some sort of energy buildup occurring along the ring!”  the woman near the viewscreen said.

Selorus chimed in from his science station.  “I am fairly certain it is quite destructive in nature!”

“Jax..!”

The pilot didn’t bother verbally responding to Kaz; the Enterprise banked rapidly, away from the strange structure.  The Enterprise’s engines surged with power as the rapid maneuver moved the large cruiser away, though how you could really get away from a thing so large was questionable.  The Enterprise’s viewscreen switched to display the view they had previously been using, only to see a coruscating blast of energy shoot out from somewhere along the ring structure.  It completely engulfed the pirate’s raider ship, and was quickly replaced by the telltale visual of a matter/antimatter explosion.

Kanor was stunned, as was everyone else aboard the bridge.  The sheer destructive force they had just witnessed was awe-inspiring, to say the least; to say nothing of the fact it had come from a singular...construct, in one shot.  A fleet of ships, perhaps, or maybe even a space station, all weapons firing…but not one shot.  Not that quickly, not that…spectacular.

Selorus broke the silence, his voice seeming to reflect what everyone else was feeling.  “I have lost the probe.  I…I think it was destroyed in that blast.”

“They’ve just painted us with that same type of…communicative-type beam they first used with the pirates.  I…”  Drei shook his head in frustration.  “I can’t even come close to figure out what they’re trying to say, if that’s what it is, let alone respond.”

Kaz’s jaw looked like it was going to grind itself into dust.  After a couple of quick beats of silence, he spoke, his voice clipped.  “Jax, get us out of here, maximum warp.”