Star Trek: Erin

Part 61: VIW (Very Important Wheat)

     As usual, things had happened while we were on leave. Kirk went full-on Ahab on a vampiric gas cloud and Chief Engineer Scott was briefly accused of murder, although what I heard of the reasons and resolution made no sense.

     Returning to the ship, I went about my duties, applied to update my lieutenant training, and found a few shreds of time to research.

     Reports were patchy at best, but it seemed Cait's condition wasn't good. The capital was split between the Ondelots—whom E'Vex had called 'false prophets'—and the ullesins. The Ondelots consisted of a core group of twenty-one Cait-born members of lower nobility with none outwardly designated as the leader. Caitian religion was built around their two moons, Rea and Sura, being deities, and the Ondelots proclaimed a divine call to destroy and remake the ruling class of ullesins. A portion of the populace was for this, with the most notable supporters being the Eoriar, the 'moon-appointed' ullesin guard.

     A point of interest for myself was the moons actually being alive. Starfleet's knowledge of this came from a recent study that coincided roughly with the beginning of the revolt. While aliveness can be difficult to define, there was a definite intention behind surface and asteroid activity in response to Caitian actions, and a symbiotic relationship. Cait's ecosystem was frequently supplemented with microorganisms arriving on ejected moon material. Papers dated to about a month ago detailed theories that the original Caitians appeared through this same relationship.

     Anyway, most of the sources I could find were from ullesins who'd fled Cait, so the information was largely biased, but there seemed to be an interest in political transparency, the ullesins being a secretive body of decision-makers.

     With the support of the Eoriar, opposition to the Ondelots was mostly carried out by supporting citizens and the bodyguards each ullesin had amassed on their own. Seventy of the one hundred and eleven ullesins had been killed in the initial burst of conflict. Eighteen had created an alliance in public conflict with the revolt, while the rest were unaccounted for. Probably dead, in hiding, or had fled the planet.

     Interestingly, the sides had agreed not to request aid from Starfleet or other organizations. Their struggle was their own, and it seemed neither side was interested in letting their conflict become an interstellar war. Maybe they know it'd be the perfect excuse for the Federation and Klingons to start fighting. Hackles were as raised as ever there, and every time the Enterprise encountered a Klingon ship where both of us had right to be, there was a mini stand-off.

     Overall, it was a shit ton of reading and my head hurt, but I thought I understood what E'Vex and J'Ki had going on.

     The next thing that happened I was glad to not have missed, because I might not have believed it without being a witness.

     Fucking tribbles.

     One is a pet. Two is a problem. Guess how many the Enterprise got.

     My day began with red alert while I was sleeping. Which means I was joining Nowak and Fitzhugh in front of Munitions two minutes later. The latter was looking nervously in every direction, including at the ceiling, which isn't usually where threats come from, but points for thoroughness. She hadn't been on the Enterprise long, but her confidence had taken a significant boost since. Still needed a little work. She had a good eye for trouble though.

     I exchanged a look with Nowak. "Any idea what it is this time, uh, sir?"

     "Priority One from Station K-7."

     "Right near the border. Fun."

     "That is one way to put it." Nowak glanced at Fitzhugh. "Has the shift been quiet?"

     She nodded. "No issues, sir. Crewman Orlova came by to collect equipment for a project in Engineering. Paperwork was in order."

     I frowned. "How'd they get in? Lieutenant Nowak and I are the ones with keys."

     "They had Lieutenant Whitting's key, ma'am. He authorized the equipment."

     I tilted my head significantly at Nowak. He nodded. He'll have to talk with the lieutenant about key management later. Nowak's attention returned to Fitzhugh. "Was the equipment logged?"

     "Yes, sir."

     "Thank you, Fitzhugh. Take fifteen minutes. We are taking longer shifts as long as this alert lasts." Fitzhugh's gaze flicked between Nowak and me just long enough to give away that she knew exactly what he was doing, but she left with only a parting salute. Nowak turned to me. "Could you check what was removed, weapons specialist?" His lips twitched, just a little.

     I grinned. "But of course, lieutenant." I sobered. "It's a little weird. Whitting should know better."

     He nodded. "I will look over the paperwork myself later."

     Time passed. Red alert remained. Whitting had requested two charges and three heavy phasers. I remembered a piece of gossip I'd probably heard from Michael. "He was on the project to strengthen doors after I blew Munitions awhile back, right?"

     "Correct. Potentially the munitions were for testing." Fitzhugh returned. Nowak nodded one more time to me. "Hold this until Klove arrives. We will have to discuss this later."

     "Yessir."

     Klove arrived after half an hour, and I met with Nowak again. The paperwork was indeed impeccable, and Whitting was too involved with the red alert for a discussion. While Nowak and I were consistently conscious of it, investigating munitions activity—especially during other problems—was our main job. Hours passed. We found out K-7 was just fucking around with the distress signal. Being a security officer, I love it when space stations abuse distress signals. It's fabulous. I exchanged an exasperated look with Nowak, although exasperation on a Vulcan is closer to a brief lift of the eyebrows.

     Quadrotriticale. It's wheat, it's blue, and it's apparently valuable enough to warrant being guarded by the Enterprise. The good news was anyone off-duty was allowed to visit the station, which had a bar. Yay for alcohol.

     That gave me a great idea.

     I popped my head into Medical, having already checked that Gabriel was finishing duty around then. For efficiency. If she says no, it's nothing personal. Maybe she's tired. Maybe she doesn't want to smell more alcohol after all that disinfectant. Maybe it is personal.

     Maybe you're overcomplicating.

     Gabriel looked up from organizing a tray of implements. "This feels familiar."

     I grinned. "Thought you might be missing my razor-sharp wit."

     "Oh god." A small smile built despite her best efforts, which I considered a win.

     "Want to take a little shore leave? I heard they have a bar."

     "Don't you have something better to do?"

     "Lieutenant Commander Emete's section is in charge of guarding the wheat. And I'm off-duty." I leaned against the doorframe, ignoring the sensor's annoyed beep. "What do you say?"

     "Screw it, sure." She left me to clean up.

     A nurse came in from a side chamber while I loitered awkwardly. "What can we do for you today, ma'am?"

     "Uh, I'm just—" I drew myself up. "I'm here to see Lieutenant Gabriel."

     "I see. I'll let her know." The nurse departed.

     He returned moments later, Gabriel trailing behind with a raised eyebrow. "Really?"

     "Oops."