Star Trek: Erin

Part 67: Clean-up and Extraction

     The scent of charred flesh is something I never want to smell again. The room was thick with it.

     I let out an involuntary cry as I slid from between Kith and the person on me, scraping my burns against their bodies.

     Sitting back on my haunches, I immediately hissed at the bloody wound in my rear. My communicator was difficult to open through the stiffness, but I managed. "Nowak... we're—"

     His voice came immediately, not through the communicator but dull and faraway. "Erin!"

     Through the rapidly dissipating smoke there were redshirts, Nowak at their head. He broke into a run. I hauled myself to my feet and stood at attention.

     "Stop, stop that." Over his shoulder, I saw unscathed bodies behind moved from near the doorway and met Klove's relieved gaze from across the room. Nowak drew my attention back. "Klove told us what was happening. We heard the explosion. Are you hurt?"

     "Yeah."

     Nowak said something I didn't catch.

     "And I think my—" I gestured at my ears.

     He understood immediately and snagged a blueshirt. "Take Junior Lieutenant Cobos to med bay."

     "Kith's alive. I don't think..." I forced myself to look at the charred corpse that'd saved my life. And blinked. Is my vision going too? Rapidly, bone repaired, knitted together, muscle and flesh gathered and knotted, and skin healed over. With a dull pop, the person's broken neck snapped back into place.

     The blueshirt began doing scans of the apparent miracle.

     Rijeka raised her bald head, placed a hand on either side of a stirring Kith, and pushed herself to her feet.

     "Erin?" said Nowak.

     The operative ran a hand over her head and sighed. "Hair takes forever to regrow." She noticed the look on my face. "Not all of us have the privilege of being human."

     "You died."

     "You're welcome."

     I swallowed hard. "Thank you," I said with complete sincerity.

     "Erin?" Nowak said again.

     I noticed he was averting his gaze, and also that most of Rijeka's clothes had burned away.

     "Uhhh, right." Someone had put a blanket on me. I transferred it to the operative. "Nowak, this is Operative Rijeka."

     "So this is the other person who knows."

     That little spark of protective rage came back. "He does. And if you dare—"

     She ignored me. "It's Lieutenant Carf at the moment. I'll take Cobos to med bay." Rijeka reached out and plucked that blueshirt's tricorder from their grasp. "I'll make sure they get this data, ensign."

     As we began to leave, Nowak hover-handed my arm. "I am glad you are okay. We need to talk."

     "Absolutely."

     We beamed over to the ship. I didn't argue as we stopped to get her a fresh uniform. She let me stumble into med bay on my own, setting the area into a frenzy.

     I missed the rest of the day's investigations, but the interlopers escaped. The 'Gilden' group were all killed with the exception of the two Klove had dispatched at the door, but those two were hired thugs with no knowledge of the mission. Hired to rough up whoever disturbed the room, which they severely regretted. Starfleet isn't an organization most like to cross.

     My visit to med bay helped enormously. There are some miraculous burn salves, and I was fitted with temporary aids for my hearing. I left feeling almost okay except for the heaviness in my heart.

     I could still smell the burning room.

     As I was leaving med bay, Rijeka reappeared. She extended a hand to shake. "You did well, Valencia."

     I grudgingly shook her hand. "You know your stuff."

     "Likewise. Perhaps we will work together again in future." She glanced over her shoulder. "For now, we will pursue the interlopers from here. I am sure Operative Glasgow will inform you of results at your next interaction."

     "Probably. One question. Who's Novo?"

     Rijeka's brow creased for a moment before a smile broke through. "Has she not told you yet? I assumed she had, considering she mentioned knowing your identity."

     My stomach dropped. Who knows I'm involved with them? Nowak, maybe Sprite, and—I froze.

     The operative leaned close. "I would not normally be telling you this, but higher up thought you should know. Operative Novosibirsk happens to be—"

     I turned on my heel.

     "Seems the information is not necessary," I heard behind me. "See you soon, Valencia."