Act 6
The remains of three vehicles, with four wheels apiece, stood smoking. The nearby rocks were scorched by the heat and intensity from the blasts that had destroyed them. Medical personnel moved among the wreckage, collecting the dead and dying. One survivor screamed, his entire face having been melted away by the heat of the blast.
The Commander knelt by one of the destroyed transports, looking at the blast pattern on the ground. His tricorder was out, sweeping very slowly back and forth. His lungs were burning slightly and there was an odd scent in the air. Everything he was picking up on it made little sense, and he was a scientist! He didn't like things not making sense, it messed with his world order.
"Mr. Z'org," he called out. He didn't need to glance up to know that the Gorn was standing over him. His shadow was very pronounced. "Take a look at these readings. What do you think?"
The raptor bent down, and a primordial fear seemed to jump up at him. He was reminded of a snake about to strike. Okay, maybe not. More like a Tyrannosaurus about to attack cavemen.
"Very curioussss, Ssssir," the Gorn replied. "Dessspite the dessstructive power, the chemicalsss ssseem to be very concccentrated."
"Absolutely what I was thinking," he said. "It's also not just that. I thought when we first arrived here that there was an odd smell. Now I know from the tricorder readings. There was chlorine in the explosive devices."
"Chlorine?" the Gorn frowned. "I am not familiar with that."
"It's a bonding agent that was used back during the mid-20th Century to the mid-21st," James explained. "You see, it bonds onto acid and other corrosive materials in water and dispose of it. It was considered a hazardous material to breath in. You might have noticed your lungs are burning a little. It was banned in 2056 as part of the Global Climate Change Initiative."
"If it wasss banned and was an Earth sssubssstanccce," Z'org hissed, musing as he thought about the implications. "What isss it doing here? Chemical warfare perhapsss?"
James thought about it. No, no. It didn't fit the modum operandum of these terrorists. They didn't seem to be a chemical warfare type of group. Yet, there was this evidence. What did it mean?
He was stilled bothered by the fact that only medical transports and research facilities were being targeted. Why not the cities themselves? Sure, the capitol city, Prefect Prime, only had seven hundred fifty thousand people in it and there wasn't much to be gained by it.
"There has to be a message, a clue we are overlooking," he said finally, standing to his feet. "I just can't figure it out. It is very elusive, Lieutenant Commander."
Z'org made a sound similar to a thoughtful humming of a human. James walked around the destroyed vehicle, a Starfleet Security officer keeping a very close eye around them. They were not there alone as a medical transport picked up the last person for medical care back in the city.
He didn't really like watching the last victim of the attack, an elderly man with almost no hair and his big eyes showing the dark red of blindness among the Japorri race. His burnt garb seemed to suggest he was a doctor or something. Yet there was no way to tell. Enviro was still watching them as the door to the transport closed.
"Filthy animals!" a voice cursed, a thick growl in it. "If I had my way, we'd have purged the tunnels with nestrizine gas. Smoke out the filthy arsonists where they would meet my men, ready and waiting. Give them whole new holes with which to breath."
"Middle Prefect Mizzier," James said, pushing himself into a standing position. "I still find it rather odd that all they target is medicine. They fit more of environmental terrorists then just straight up terrorists."
Middle Prefect Mizzier waved a stubby hand. He had the look of a man who had eaten too many sour grapes in his life and the effect had been to twist his features. His large eyes had a very cranky look to them, and it seemed to accent his uniform. Dark purple ran down the right side of his pants and tunic and black ran down the other side. A strip of dark blood red went down the middle, parting the two main colors. He wore a beret of light blue that signified his rank, which was the middle of the five officer ranks.
He had about a dozen of his men at the terrorist site. They were all of similar stock, hulking men that were nice and round. They seemed more of weekend warriors then actual soldiers. Yet their weapons looked soldierly enough. Each man carried a square rifle with four chambers. Each carried a plasma slug chamber that had enough power to melt holes into even durasteel.
"Whatever they are," Mizzier said grimly, "We'll find them and show them how we of the Japorri Republic treat those who keep us from helping the sick and fatally ill."
"Commander?" one of the security officers called out, "Can you come over a second? I found something."
"If you will excuse me…."
"Absolutely not!" the Middle Prefect snapped. "I'm going with you. I want to hear whatever your man has to say."
There was no need to be hostile about the request in James' mind. He shrugged and said, "Be my guest."
The last medical transport took off at that time, allowing unresitricted access to the area that the security officer had called out. They walked over to him, an Andorian thaan (as the males were called) name Lieutenant Nerla Neer'shka. He usually was assigned to the command of the Saucer Security Team. He had very light blue skin for an Andorian, but he was of average height for them.
"Report," Z'org ordered, coming up behind the two other officers.
"Sir, I overheard you say something about chlorine being used in the explosives," he said, not even showing any apology over it either! "And so I set my tricorder to look for any traces. I figured that such a toxic chemical would cling to them like a Targellian blood fly. And…."
He didn't say anything more, but held out the tricorder for the Commander's inspection. He took it, and looking at it, saw what he was meaning. There was definitely a strong residue here. This particular road way was in a small ravine, so there was no way that the chlorine could be blown so far over. He waved it back and forth, and soon he could see it. A trail!
"What?" Mizzier demanded, "What do you see, Commander?"
"We have their trail," James said, a tight grin on his face.
"We have their trail, Captain," the Commander's voice said over the bridge's intercom system. "We are going to go in hot once we find them."
Jillian smiled. It hadn't taken him more than a couple of hours to find the trail. It was either that Starfleet training was that good, his experiences were that good, or he was that good. She preferred to think the latter. It would vindicate her trust she had put in him.
"Do you need me to send additional security officers?" she asked. "Because we can."
"No," Z'org cut in before his superior could talk. "We have five security here and the Japorrians have a dozen as well."
"What he said," Enviro's voice came in, and she couldn't stop the smile spreading over her face at how annoyed he had sounded just then. The Gorn wasn't known for his keeping his sharp-tooth mouth shut. "But in all seriousness ma'am, more people will just be a bother."
"Understood," she said. "Number One, let me know once you reach the terrorists hideout."
"Acknowledge," he agreed. "Enviro out."
She leaned back in her captain's chair after the communication was closed. The anxiety levels of the bridge crew were suppressed with more of anticipation, growing by every second. Doctor T'Lal was in the right chair, the left chair absent it's occupant. Jillian envied at times the cool detachment of the Vulcan, how she was able to suppress all emotions.
Although, most of the time, she felt that was probably a hindrance to them then an actual blessing.
"What progress have you made with the Medical Director?" she asked, turning her attention to the rigid back Vulcan.
"I will admit the going has been slow and even with the additional week study, we've only been able to amplify the inoculations, but not make them more effective," the Vulcan admitted. If she was annoyed by that lack of success, she certainly didn't show it. "I have been able to isolate the particular DNA strand that the virus has been attacking, but I'm not able to strength it's resistance, more of buffering the DNA around it."
Jillian frowned. "Have you tried frog DNA?" she asked.
"Excuse me?" T'Lal asked, "What would amphibian DNA have to do with anything ma'am?"
"They can make dinosaurs out of frog DNA," Traz said with some heavy levels of excitement. They just use it to fill in any gaps in the cloning process."
The Vulcan stared at her, on of those very proper and prim Vulcan eyebrows rising up in confusion. The Captain put her hand up to her head and dropped her forehead onto it. Must she be plagued by these culturally inept people?
"Shouldn't you be going back to sickbay?" she finally said, not looking at the Doctor, too annoyed at the lack of response to her Jurassic Park reference.
The Vulcan shrugged. "Not really, the seem….."
"Shouldn't you be getting back to sickbay?" Jillian said with a slight edge, turning to bear the full weight of her annoyance on the emotionless Vulcan.
The Doctor might have the emotional range of a teaspoon (she probably wouldn't have gotten that reference either) but she was observant. The Doctor nodded and standing up, heading for the aft port-side turbolift that would take her to sickbay.
"I-I-I understood the r-r-reference, ma'am" The flight officer said, glancing back at her. "J-J-Jurassic Park."
"Ensign Daarth," she said, the butt-kissing only annoying her further. She could sense his smugness, as if he was going to earn brownie points with her. "If I wanted you to kiss my butt, I would shove my hand up your butt and move your mouth like a puppet. That understood?"
"Yes ma'am," he said, and she could feel the deflated balloon of his ego.
That didn't go so well.
He pushed the send button, and the silent mode of console-to-console messaging made sure that the Captain didn't hear the message as Mary Crest got the message. He rubbed his arm, again in the same spot he had found gave him good luck. No, no witchcraft or anything. He just found it always gave him a boost of confidence. He needed one after that smack down from the Captain.
He waited for a few seconds, spending the time checking the readouts on the console. They showed the speed, latitude, power output of the engines. He was just checking the relative position of the away team in relationship to their own position when he got a message.
Don't worry! She'll warm up to you. How did you know that reference anyways?
My grandfather loves all thing dinosaurs and even has a few of the really ancient DVDs of them. But I guess I'll keep my knowledge to myself unless asked for.
I'll make you feel a lot better after we get off work. My quarters!
He smiled at that new message. Yes, his luck with women was holding just fine. As she sat there, he had the odd feeling of pressure in his mind. He shook his head once, then twice, but it didn't go away. He glanced back, and saw the Captain looking straight at him. She had an eyebrow raised and he suddenly understood.
The Betazoid captain had just read his mind! Wasn't there something against that?
"Ensign," the Captain said, her voice with a sweet yet unmistakable edge to it. "I try to make it point not to read my officers mind but really! I would prefer it if you focused on your work and not romantic rendezvous."
"Y-y-yes ma'am," he said, feeling himself blush. There was an inordinate amount of snickering from around the bridge. He turned himself back to his work, but could see in his peripheral image the smile that had spread across Mary's face.
Jillian looked at the messages that had popped up on her own arm console. What most people didn't realize was that any communication on the bridge was not only sent to the other stations, but it was also sent to her as well. They came as documents with the station it had originated from to the receiving station. She could open them if she wished and she had when she had seen the two designations, back and forth.
No, she hadn't read his mind, only had given him the impression of it. If the young man wanted to be a smart-aleck, she would give him a taste of his own medicine! Especially after she had read the messages and felt the heat of lust that had rushed out of the Conn.
Yep, that young man was going to be trouble!
"Z'org to Wayne! Z'org to Wayne! Get usss out of here!"
"What is it, Lieutenant Commander?" she asked, never having heard so much distress and anger in her security chief.
"Beam ussss up, now!"
"Transporter room 2, beam them up now!" she called out, standing to her feet.
"Transport complete," came the response a few seconds later. "Umm…Captain? We are missing two of them."
"What do you mean?" she asked, her heart suddenly thudding very fast in her chest. "Where are they?"
"I couldn't find their signals," came the reply.
"Commander Enviro and Crewman Zekstra were captured!" the Security chiefs voice roared in anger and embarrassment. Anger at what had happened and embarrassment at his own inadequacy. And Captain Traz felt shock rushing through her, threating to overwhelm her.
