Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Three hours after the Serparnian Liberation Army issued its message, all hell broke loose on Sepalal III. It began with an explosion at an ore processing facility owned by a Vulcan firm. Reports then trickled in of rioting and looting in the streets of the planet’s capital city.

Shipping activity until then had been minimal but now the spaceports emptied as panicked offworlders tried to flee. Freighters, shuttles, and yachts of all sizes formed up into makeshift flotillas beating a hasty retreat away from the planet. The sight of the exodus reminded Brett of the last time he’d come to the Serparnian system.

“This is a disaster,” he said.

“Agreed,” Robyn said. She looked up at the tactical station. “Mr. Ramirez, open a channel to the planet authorities. Let them know we’re willing to offer any assistance they may require.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Brett said. “The Federation isn’t exactly popular there right now.”

“We have an obligation to provide aid.”

“Even if it makes the situation worse?”

Before Robyn could respond, Ramirez said, “Captain, we’re receiving a message from the capital.”

“On screen.”

A sand-colored Serparnian with a blue shell came onto the screen. His reptilian eyes betrayed nothing but from the puffiness of his hood, Brett knew they were not in for a friendly chat. A Serparnian’s hood could inflate like a sail when they got agitated, similar to a rattlesnake’s rattle.

“This is Governor Slewyuh. We do not require assistance, especially from humans. You would be wise to leave this area before something unfortunate happens.”

“Governor, let me assure you we wish your people no harm. We only wish—” The connection broke off. “Not too friendly, are they?” Robyn muttered.

“Captain, I’m receiving another transmission. Audio only.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“To any Federation ships receiving this message, this is Lieutenant Gregory Hurd of Starfleet Intelligence. Two of my people are injured. We need immediate evacuation. I don’t know how much longer I can keep them at bay.”

“Where is the signal coming from, Ensign Merle?”

“It’s difficult to tell, sir. Somewhere near the center of the capital,” Merle said. He shook his head. “There’s a lot of interference coming from the area.”

“Like someone doesn’t want Lieutenant Hurd to get picked up,” Brett said.

“Take an away team and find them,” Robyn said.

Brett leapt from his chair. “Ramirez, have your guys meet us in the transporter room.”

The same two security officers from the last away team met Brett and Ramirez in the transporter room, armed with the same phaser rifles. Before the transporter scrambled his molecules, Brett considered what would happen when he emerged on the surface. If any of the Serparnians recognized him, he might have to get back to the Orion in a hurry, with Hurd or without. Too bad there wasn’t time to come up with some kind of disguise.

They beamed into the middle of the chaos. Smoke from a warehouse on fire brought tears to Brett’s eyes. Around them, Serparnians—many with the unpainted shells of juveniles—darted to and fro, hurling stones at windows. When one of them saw the human away team, he hissed loud enough to alert his friends.

“We better get out of here,” Brett said. He checked the tricorder for any signs of other humans, but as Merle had said, there was a lot of interference in the area. Brett had little doubt an agent of the Serparnian Liberation Army was behind the jamming; a group of Starfleet Intelligence officers as prisoners would make quite a prize for the next propaganda message.

Even as Brett considered this, a stone hit him in the back of the head. A posse of juvenile Serparnians rushed towards Brett and the security team, unafraid of the phaser rifles. Brett looked about him for a route of escape and then directed Ramirez and the other two into an alley.

The Serparnian juveniles followed, another rock whizzing past Brett’s ear. The alley narrowed as they left the prefabricated buildings constructed by offworlders for the traditional mud domes built by the original Serparnian inhabitants. As the Starfleet team ran, the crowd behind them swelled, the juveniles urging the residents of the domes to capture the humans.

The mud domes wouldn’t allow Brett and the others to climb up onto the roofs to escape, nor did they have much chance of losing the juveniles on their home turf. This left only one choice: a show of force. Given what happened with the Icarus, Brett was wary of this, but he didn’t have a choice.

Motioning for the others to stop, he turned to face his pursuers. “That’s far enough,” he said, raising his phaser rifle. “Anyone gets a step closer and I’ll shoot.”

“You can’t scare us,” one of the juveniles said. “This is our world, not yours.” The other Serparnians hissed their support for this sentiment.

“We just came here to find our comrades and then we’ll be on our way. Have you seen any others like us?”

“I will tell you nothing,” the juvenile said. Before he could hurl the stone in his hand, Brett shot him in the thigh. With the rifle on its lowest setting, it couldn’t do anything more than tickle the thick hide of a Serparnian, even a young one like this.

Nevertheless, the stone fell from the juvenile’s hand and a shocked hiss came from those around him. “Next time I’ll set it on disintegrate,” Brett said. “Now, where are the other humans? We picked up their signal in this area.”

The juvenile still said nothing, but a female clutching a hatchling to her chest caught Brett’s eye. Her tongue flicked towards a canyon nearby, a Serparnian prayer basin. With a slight nod, Brett lowered his rifle and then sprinted away.

As if word of the confrontation had already spread, no one else challenged them on the way to the prayer basin. Or it might be they didn’t want to risk bloodshed on holy ground. Either way it was a break for Brett and the others.

The prayer tower was nothing more than a hole in the ground with a spiral staircase carved inside leading to the bottom. Along the inner walls were murals of scenes from Serparnian lore: the god Serparnak fashioning the world from clay on a giant potter’s wheel, the goddess Savnel giving birth to a pair of fiery eggs that became the first Serparnians, and the warrior god Sertynl destroying a race of demons.

At the bottom of the steps was a wooden door painted gold. Inside was where the priest would go to offer prayers and sacrifices to the gods. Unlike human religions that had looked to the sky in worship, the Serparnians believed their gods resided beneath the ground. Opening the door, Brett found the low-ceiling tunnel descending further into the ground.

The humans had to get down on all fours to advance, the phaser rifles strapped to their backs. As he crawled, Brett considered whether this was a trap. The Serparnian female could have been a plant luring them into this narrow tunnel where they would be ambushed and captured or killed. But since no one knew they were coming, he doubted the Serparnians would have time to create such a trap.

This thought proved correct. The tunnel ended in a circular chamber with a square well where the priest would deposit the prayer scrolls for the gods. At the moment, Brett wished he had a scroll so he could pray to make it out of here alive.

“Boutwell? What the hell are you doing here?” Lieutenant Gregory Hurd growled from the darkness. “And in a Starfleet uniform no less.”

Brett saw the end of his phaser sticking out from an adjoining room to the chamber he hadn’t noticed. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell it to you back on the Orion.” He squinted to make out Hurd’s compact frame crouched in the doorway. “Where are your friends?”

“They didn’t make it.”

“Still, we should beam them aboard too—”

“I vaporized the bodies. We’re not to leave any traces behind. Standard procedure,” Hurd said.

Brett hadn’t heard of this procedure, but then his dealings with Starfleet Intelligence were usually from the same position he was in now, at the wrong end of a phaser. “Would you mind putting that away so we can get out of here?”

“How do I know I can trust you? You’re on the detainment list. Just because you and your buddies have some uniforms and Starfleet hardware—”

“You can either trust me or hole up in here for a few more days until they decide to flush you out and make a human sacrifice,” Brett said.

Hurd considered this for a moment. The phaser disappeared. “Fine. I’ll trust you. For now.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”