Story:Star Trek: Federalist/The Prize Fighter

The Prize Fighter
He pulled the lever to open the maintenance hatch on the torpedo. It was the 44th torpedo in the ship's arsenal of 50. He tapped a few buttons on the hidden access panel, and synched his tricorder to it's onboard computer system. "Targeting functions within acceptable parameters. Photon warhead stable. Propulsion unit tests optimal." The computer reported its diagnostic findings. Quallo sighed softly, "Just six more to go. Then I can call it a night." The door to the torpedo bay opened. Captain Deet entered. "Captain, is there something I can help you find?" Quallo asked, dropping what he was doing. "Actually I'm here to speak to you." the Captain replied. "Oh, you didn't need to come all the way down here, I would've come to your ready room." Quallo wondered why she hadn't. "I've got two working legs. I know too many captains who forget that they have an entire ship of moving parts underneath their bridge, and they never come down to see it- yet they always expect for it to work perfectly... What are you doing in here anyway? Your shift ended at seventeen-hundred." "I just wanted to run an inspection on the photon torpedoes. I'll be sure to finish in the next 15 minutes. I've got an hour of holodeck time at twenty-hundred hours that I don't want to miss." Quallo explained. "See that you don't." the Captain shot back, concerned that her officer was overworking himself, "Do you need more help with the weapons systems? I'm sure we can move some personnel to help you get these diagnostics done." "No, Captain. Thank you. It seems like Ensign Anderson has done a fine job with recent torpedo maintenance, I just wanted to double check." "Do you have reason to believe his work was unsatisfactory?" "Not at all, he's a fine officer... but... I'm ultimately the one who will pull the trigger to fire these torpedoes. So I'm also ultimately responsible for making sure they work right when I do. There could be a lot riding on these." he paused, "I hope I'm not overstepping my authority here; I know it's redundant, and that's why I do this on my free time." "I certainly applaud your commitment and dedication, I only hope you're not working yourself too hard. Just make sure you don't miss your holodeck time- that's an order." The Captain smiled before turning to walk out. "Oh, I almost forgot why I came down here." she added, "The Federalist has been asked to change course in order to bring some medical supplies to Dessica II. We should be entering orbit shortly. I know you grew up there, so if you'd like to catch up with some old friends, I'd be willing to stay in orbit for a few days." Quallo suddenly looked alarmed. "Thank you Captain, but I hope I never go back to that planet. I don't have fond memories or old friends there." "Very well, Mr. Quallo. Let me know if you need anything." The Captain left Quallo to his work, the doors sliding shut behind her. Quallo returned to his work. "Computer, when was the last diagnostic on our phaser array?" He queried. "The phaser array underwent a full diagnostic 3 days, 14 hours ago." the computer immediately answered. "Prepare another diagnostic..." --- The next morning, Aznia Deet entered the bridge at zero-seven-twenty hours, she walked into her ready room directly to the replicator: "Bolian Tonic, 2 degrees Celsius, large." A cold, fizzy, transparent purple drink appeared in a clear tall glass, which she eagerly sipped. She never started the day without her ritual pick-me-up, and a quick glance at the ship's status report. several minutes later, Aznia returned to the bridge with her drink, dismissing Lt. Atom from command of the Delta Shift. The android officer returned to his post at the science station. Giving her first order of the day, Captain Deet order a hailing frequency be opened to the Dessican administrator. After a moment he came on screen, "Administrator Bort, have your facilities received all of the medical supplies?" The rotund Bolian bureaucrat responded, "Yes Captain, we are in your debt. These supplies will save lives here." He paused, a curious look coming over his face. "Is... Is that a Bolian Tonic you're holding?" Captain Deet looked down at her drink mildly confused. She then looked back up at the administrator with a smile and answered "Why yes it is. I'm quite fond of it actually." The Bolian chuckled, "It just so happens that I've got an entire case of tonic here, fresh from Bolarus- the genuine article too! I would be very pleased to have you and your staff join me for a drink and a meal. I know Dessica II has an old reputation for being a lawless, dangerous place; but we've made great strides under my administration. I'd love to a chance to show a Federation representative some of our reforms and accomplishments." "Certainly. I'm looking forward to it." "Splendid. I'll make preparations! Say... thirteen-hundred hours? I'll transmit beam-down coordinates shortly." Aznia nodded, smiling. The communication channel closed. She turned around to face her crew, noting that Ensign Bohannon at Tactical was the only officer still present from Delta Shift. "Computer what is the time?" "Zero-seven-thirty-three hours, seventeen seconds." The precise instrument responded. "Ensign Bohannon, has Lt. Commander Quallo informed you that he would be late?" "No sir, I just haven't been dismissed yet." the Ensign alertly responded. "Deet to Quallo, report." Aznia tapped her comm badge. There was no response. "Computer, locate Lt. Commander Quallo." Aznia demanded, as concern filled the bridge like rising water. "Lt. Commander Quallo is not aboard the Federalist." The computer stated, mater-of-factly. "When was he last aboard, how did he leave, and where was he located?" A subtle panic set into Aznia's voice. "Lt. Commander Quallo was last detected in Jeffries Tube 52-a at twenty-hundred-thirty-seven hours, 54 seconds. Unable to determine method of disembarkment." "Deet to Lt. Dewoh, meet me with a security team at the entry to Jeffries Tube junction 52-a." she ordered. "Span, you're with me." --- The Trill and Vulcan senior officers marched quickly through the lower corridors of the Federalist toward the junction. There they met the imposing, tall, maroon skinned Saurian security officer; "Lt. Dewoh, we have a situation. Lt. Commander Quallo has vanished from aboard the Federalist, and we need to know how he's left and where he's gone." She demanded. Lt. Dewoh's awkward mannerism and stoic stature remained unchanged, he simply gave an exaggerated nod of acknowledgement to the captain, stating "Aye, ma'am." before rapidly getting his team to work. He was always an unusual character aboard the ship. Very dedicated to his work, but socially alienated from the rest of the crew. "Level five sensor scans of all these conduits on the doubles!" He pitifully tried to mimic a more typically 'humanoid' mannerism, as he pushed his mostly-human security team to work. It was a matter of moments before the security team found a tool kit unattended in the Jeffries Tube with diagnostic systems engaged. Ultimately, they were unable to find evidence of tampering or sabotage. There was also no evidence of any standard transporter technology having been employed. Aznia waited outside the corridor as the security team conducted their continuing sweeps. It was about an hour before she heard Lt. Dewoh's unusual voice declare "I've got it! I've got it!" as he crawled out of the cramped access tunnel. "Folded Space Transport!" He proclaimed. "I'm sorry, what?" The Captain required clarification. "It is a technology that has been abandoned for years. It is very dangerous to organic tissue- prolonged use will kill you; but it transports individuals undetected, long range, even through shields. Very sneaky, ma'am." "Are you sure?" Aznia probed. "Sure as sure is and will sure be." The awkward Saurian botched the saying, "After removing the impossible, only a Folded Space transporter remains the improbable." "Very nice work, Mr. Dewoh. I want you to stay on the trail, report any findings to me." "Aye! Here to be service! We will find him!" Dewoh stated with sincere enthusiasm. --- Captain Deet returned to the bridge. Sitting in the Captain's chair, Aznia found herself more uncomfortable than she's ever been in that seat before. "Open a channel to Starbase 39-Sierra, Admiral Edward Park." The viewscreen flickered on, an old, grizzled officer stare back at the young Captain. "Deet! It's been far too long. How've you been?!" Aznia softly smiled at her old friend, "Things have been better, Admiral." "Admiral?" the old commanding officer responded with surprise. "Drop the ranks, Deet. What can I do to help?" "One of my officers has gone missing. He was pulled from the ship with a Folded Space Transporter. I need any information you have on this technology. I also need a detailed personnel file on Lt. Commander Quallo, including his history on Dessica II. I have reason to believe someone in his past is behind this." The admiral's tone turned somber, "Absolutely Deet. I'll have it transmitted over immediately. Is there anything else I can do?" Smiling, Aznia finished the conversation "I don't think so, Eddy. thank you for your help. I'll buy you a drink next time I'm around." "I'd like that." the old friends ended their call. "Get Administrator Bort on screen." Aznia jumped from one thought to the next. The fat Bolian's smiling face again appeared on screen. "Our meeting isn't for another hour, Captain. Is there something I can do for you?" "I'm afraid we might need to cancel our plans, Administrator." Aznia's stated seriously, "A crew member has gone missing, abducted by a Folded Space Transporter, and we have reason to believe that it may have something to do with his history on Dessica II." "That's just awful, I will alert our authorities to be on the lookout. I like to think that this planet has made great strides in stamping out the presence of organized crime, but there is still a healthy criminal element on this planet. What is your crewman's name?" "His name is Quallo, he is a Ferengi who grew up on the Travisian Coast of the Ketral Continent." The Captain informed the Administrator. "I'll look into it right away, I'll let you know if I find anything." Bort closed the channel. "I'll be in my ready room." The captain stepped into the privacy of her office. --- At her console, the Captain began to sift through the information streamed from Starbase 34-Sierra. Quallo's history was spotty. His location and date of birth were recorded, as was his date of enlistment in Starfleet. Starfleet seemed to have no detailed or relevant history on him prior to the date he stepped off the transport to Earth. Information on the Folded Space Transporter was more detailed. It explained a process to detect a transport in progress. An Adaptive Supspace Echogram would be able to detect the location of such a transport if another one occurs. "We just need to get them to use it again." she quipped to herself. Aznia immediately communicated this information to her crew. After a short wait, a communiqué came in from the Dessican Administrator's office. "Captain, your officer had an interesting history on Dessica II. Have you ever heard of Wawu Stickfighting?" Administrator Bort asked. "No, I'm afraid not." Aznia responded somewhat impatiently. "It is a barbaric martial art that this planet's natives used to practice. In the ancient version of this event, competitors would be armed with a wooden shield, and a burning stick. A fire would be lit on each end of a rectangular field of combat. The competitors would wait until their weapon's end was red hot; then the objective was to burn your opponent with the hot end. The first competitor to impose three scarring burns on their opponent wins the contest. A modern variation on this sport had become popular on Dessica II several years ago, it combined a modified Klingon Pain Stick and digital scoring. Three years ago, my administration banned the activity, as it attracted the attention of all of this planet's organized crime. Gambling, drinking, violence, injury... it all followed these events. Anyways, two decades ago, your officer was quite the competitor. He was a professional, and he appears to have had a an undefeated career that included 25 consecutive wins... until..." The administrator paused uncomfortably. "Until what?" The Captain demanded. "It seems that in his 26th event, the opponent was killed after Quallo landed his first strike. Quallo left the scene immediately. He hasn't been seen on Dessica II since." "Aren't these weapons non-lethal?" The captain asked with alarm. "They're supposed to be!" The Administrator said with a scoff tone. "Now you can see why I've banned the practice! It seems someone tampered with the combat stick. Either your officer, his trainers, or gamblers. The authorities at the time declared the case closed. Unfortunately, justice meant very little to my predecessors. A full investigation was never conducted... but If you want my opinion, you need to find out more about his opponent if you want to find your officer's kidnappers. He was an Orion named Gevish-Nar." "Thank you for your information, Administrator Bort. You've been a great help." Aznia finished the conversation. "Contact me if you need anything else." the channel closed. --- Aznia walked onto the bridge. "Orions." she sneered. "Span, Atom, you're with me." she tapped her comm badge, "Lt. Dewoh, meet me in transporter room 1." Span stopped the Captain, "We can take care of this, Captain. Your place is on the bridge." "No. Under normal circumstances, I'd be inclined to agree. But it's the job of a captain to safeguard their crew. I need to be there. I need to help find Quallo." Span relented. They organized in the transporter room as Ensign Keesa transported them to Travisian City. --- Quallo sat quietly in a small, dark room. "I didn't kill him! He was my friend!!" He pleaded through the door, unsure if anyone was listening. Painful memories flooded the Ferengi's head. Since his final fight, he'd always assumed he was a wanted man. Revenge could be sought by Gevish's family, fans, and even friends- though he counted himself among them. He understood why people wanted him dead, sometimes he felt that way himself. Quallo thought back to his life before that fight. He trained with an Orion gym, Gevish was one of his best friends and sparring partners. The Orion clan had taken him in like family. The skills built between the two fighters in that gym reflected the greatest strengths of mutual respect and understanding. Between the two of them, they had trounced the greatest opponents from all of the region's best gyms. The Wawu, the Yridians, the Romulans, none of them could find an opponent worthy of the competing against the boys from the Orion gym. It was only a matter of time before promoters and fans realized that Quallo and Gevish needed to compete, as they were together in a league of their own. It was billed as the greatest event in the history of the planet. There were nearly 50,000 in attendance. Gambling money flooded the arena as hustlers and bookies worked to shave every slip of gold-pressed-profit they could. The event was abuzz with energy. Nothing fazed either fighter. They stared eye to eye before the referee brought each fighter his pain stick. Quallo shifted the grip in his hand, noticing that this was not his favorite stick; but the fight was about to start, and neither fighter was about to break the energy flow in the arena. When the fight started, Quallo found himself unprepared for the ferocity of his opponent. He was on his heels far more than he'd ever been. He'd always been a careful fighter, waiting for the opponent's aggression to show, then striking at weak points systematically. It was unusual to see Gevish taking such aggressive tactics, he'd clearly changed form to take Quallo off guard. Gevish raised his stick at a downward angle indicating a lunge at the legs, so when Quallo moved his shield to block, Gevish backhanded his stick, slapping it across Quallo's shoulder instead, scoring the first strike of the match. For the first time in his professional career, Quallo felt that he might be out of his league. His confidence was shaking. He wondered if the preparation and cunning of a Ferengi could possibly defeat the strength and size of a finely tuned Orion. The fighters retook their relative sides on the arena. Quallo decided to stick to his guns, he couldn't let Gevish throw him out of his comfort zone. Gevish came out of the gate with an extremely aggressive running swing, and this was the exact opportunity Quallo had waited for; he slid to the ground just as the stick swung over his head, and before Gevish could recover, Quallo jabbed at his shoulder, which had been left exposed by the over-aggressive move. Quallo felt an enormous sense of satisfaction as the impact fell, his attitude instantly turned more upbeat. He jumped to his feet with vigor before realizing that something was very wrong. Sparks had flown upon impact, and the end of his pain stick had discharged so violently that its capacitors had burst. Gevish still stood upright, every muscle in his body tensed to it's fullest. Green blood trickled from the corners of his eyes, which stared lifeless and straight toward Quallo. His body seemed to take an eternity to fall. Quallo froze while referees, attendants, and trainers all rushed in. Quallo dropped the broken pain stick, slowly walking in to see his fallen comrade. Death was pronounced very quickly, so Quallo ran. Before reaction could set in, before anyone could realize what had happened; Quallo's flight instincts escorted him from the arena. Amazed that he escaped, he boarded the first departing transport shuttle he found. Quallo booked transport to the Shorahn continent. By the next morning, he was on a freighter to Benzar. Along the way, he considered several new career paths. He needed a fresh start, and he wanted nothing more than to get away from fighting. The most peaceful people he could think of were the people of the Federation. He bought passage aboard a trader's vessel on a trip to Earth, where he applied for admittance to Starfleet Academy. Now Quallo sat in the dark, his past having finally caught up to him, he couldn't run anymore. He didn't know who'd taken him, but he definitely knew why.