Open Season

[Chirakis 1]

<<This log takes place during the time Chirakis was off-station.>>

 

Open Season

 

As unforgiving as was the desert of Pekal Dorn, Chirakis Kirel felt strangely at home, though she was at a loss to explain it. Perhaps it reminded her of several safe planets on which she had taken refuge, but it was more likely that just being off-station made her feel better, taking the Drakkor, going where she wanted to when she wanted to.

 

During her two days’ travel, Director Torak had followed Training Class T-135 to its third twelve-days, the last segment before graduation. The first they spent in the planet’s hot, swampy predator-infested jungle, the second on the frozen tundra of Turk’s Head. The third had just commenced, in No-man’s Land, their final test of endurance.

 

No-man’s Land occupied most of the southern hemisphere that was perpetually tilted towards Pekal Alpha, the system’s primary star of its binary system. The exposure rendered the land lifeless but for a few creatures that lived beneath the surface and only emerged during the brief period of darkness that hardly qualified for the term night.

 

The primary star had reduced what was once sand dunes into a surface of inescapable red powder that stirred at the slightest disturbance, permeated even the most tightly woven fabric and raised havoc with unprotected equipment, supplies, and bodies. Boots sank to ankle depth making movement and maneuvers excruciatingly laborious. No exposed body part, no orifice escaped invasion. It clogged breathing filters and defied every effort by trainees to purge it from their systems. Word was that long after leaving the planet, recruits continued to pass red dust in their bodily waste - a story (among others) used effectively for hazing and unnerving every incoming class.

 

As usual, Command Central bordered the training area, but the shelter was more secure to ensure the viability of their equipment and to allow medical personnel the best possible advantage against the elements.

 

Chirakis landed next to the MedEvac shuttle in a shelter adjacent to Command Central and waited until a powerful vacuum vented the fine powder outside. Differential pressure adjusted to seal the entrance, a secondary force field engaged, and when light on the wall turned green she released the hatch.

 

A locker on the entrance wall received her flight suit and helmet, and she stepped inside Command Central, its air-conditioned confines fairly calm in the lull between day maneuvers and what promised to be a hellish night for the recruits.

 

Just as she entered she was met with a strange reception, but one she half expected, knowing who was there. A sudden flash of dark brown appeared in her peripheral vision. She ducked and a massive arm made contact with the wall beside her.

 

“I ssssee you have not become an eater of grasss in your absssenssse.” The Gorn leaned on the wall, his back to her.

 

Chirakis kicked the Gorn’s feet from under him, sending him crashing to the floor, then waited for his gaze before snarling, “And you have not become a mother’s maid, Resssk.”

 

One of the few Gorn who served Federation Intel, Resssk had teamed with Chirakis before her assignment to Aegis. To be called an eater of grass - a vegetarian - or a mother’s maid - an otherwise useless Gorn who tended the egg nest - was the height of insult. Unfortunately, the universal translator had yet to deal with the Gorn’s hissing sounds, but they did a passable translation. Better than having to learn Gorn and possibly getting your head bitten off because of a slight mispronunciation.

 

Ressk broke into what passed in Gorn for a grin and Chirakis pulled him to his feet. “Torak?” She glanced around for the director as they clasped arms in greeting.

 

“Conferenssse,” Resssk replied, hauling Kirel towards a console and the rest of the team. SSgt t’Pak moved aside at their approach, but 1st Ltn Sonny Lukas held his perch until Resssk pushed him off. “Sssstrange happeningsss,” Resssk continued, pointing to a display.

 

“Kir.” Lukas grinned, nodding a greeting as he popped a nut. “Ssssstrange,” he said, mimicking the Gorn and narrowly escaping a half-hearted swat. “Tjurakh on the loose,” he added as he joined the huddle, still munching.

 

With raised eyebrow, Kirel turned her attention back to Resssk, who had pushed the image onto a larger screen.

 

“The Tjurakh... asss you well know...” he gave a brief nod to Kirel, “...are within a day’sss travel from here. They are a loossse confederation of warlordsss ssspread over ssseveral worldsss, hardly capable of mounting anything larger than a potssshot at a neighbor. They have no tactical expertissse, financial resssourcesss or material resssourcesss.”

 

Upgrades to the UT were a definite must.

 

“...and yet, they are mounting decisive attacks close to and just inside Federation space,” t’Pak moved into position to pick up the briefing, pointing at the screen as she spoke. “One of which was near Gemulon V, and the last of which was on a small mining colony in the Maxia system....”

 

“... inside the Ferengi Alliance,” Lukas chimed in, tossing his empty peanut bag into the recycler. “And really close to Aegis.”

 

Chirakis shrugged. It wasn’t that close, but it did make her wonder where they might hit next.

 

“And... you have ties to the Ferengi Alliance.” The approach of Director Torak had been ignored in deference to the information display.

 

Hands on her hips, Chirakis turned her gaze towards him, her eyes narrowed. “I have no... ties... to the Ferengi Alliance.”

 

“The ambassador....”

 

“... is my commanding officer. Nothing more,” she interjected before Torak could finish.

 

“But he’s not said anything about this? Mentioned it at all?”

 

She crossed her arms and turned to face him straight-on. “He may not even know. We’ve been a bit preoccupied with survival, Director. Your point?”

 

“Just a question. An important one, I might add, but...” he shrugged, “...you have been busy.”

 

Torak’s tone was too conciliatory. She couldn’t decide if she thought less of him or of Drankum. They had too much in common. Conjecture. Innuendo. Suspicion.

 

And they were both her commanding officers.

 

“Consider your loyalties, Commander. We need you in on this.”

 

She gave a snort and glanced around the team. They looked away, as though urging her to accept or reject on her own.

 

Consider your loyalties.

 

Problem was... she already had. And with the Tjurakh at the back door and Torak peeking in a window, it was open season on Aegis.