In the still of the night

Posted on 04 Aug 2026 @ 11:36pm by 1st Lieutenant S'earr & 2nd Lieutenant Elora Rykov

3,092 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: S04 Episode 02 The Hackers Backdoor (Incidentals)
Location: MCO's Office

ON:


A small orange envelope rested on S'earr's desk. It had a faint smell of blood and ozone to it. Inside a video chip. On that chip a video caught at a very unorthodox angle that suggested the ventilation vent or somewhere similar. On it. ten minutes of rage inducing material.

S'earr picked up the chip and placed it on his desk top computer. "Play."

The hidden camera feed flickered with static for half a second before stabilizing, its grainy monochrome image casting the gymnasium in harsh shadows and cold Starfleet lighting. A timestamp pulsed in the upper corner while the silent camera watched from its concealed position above the entrance to Athletics Bay Two, Marine deck 1, aboard the USS TomCat.

At first, the room appeared empty except for Second Lieutenant Elora D’Tan.

The young MXO officer moved with disciplined precision across the padded training floor, sweat glistening along her brow as she worked through a combat sequence alone. Every strike was sharp, controlled, almost elegant the product of years of Starfleet tactical conditioning. Her dark hair was tied back tightly, her breathing measured as she pivoted into another defensive stance.

Then the doors slid open.

Four members of Alpha Team entered without announcement.

The camera’s angle prevented a clear view of their faces, but their movements carried a dangerous purpose. They spread out immediately, circling the gym floor like predators closing around prey. Elora noticed them at once. Her posture stiffened. Instinct replaced routine.
One of them said something the audio system failed to capture.

Another stepped forward.

Elora backed away slowly, eyes locked on the group. The tension inside the room became almost suffocating even through the distorted surveillance feed. For a moment, nobody moved.

Then chaos erupted.

The first attacker lunged.

Elora reacted instantly, driving an elbow into the first attacker's throat before spinning low to sweep another off his feet. The camera struggled to keep up as bodies collided beneath the dim overhead lights. A bench overturned violently across the floor. One Alpha operative crashed into a weight rack hard enough to rattle the entire frame.

But there were too many of them.

The third attacker caught Elora from behind while the fourth slammed into her side, forcing her against the mat. She fought like a cornered animal, striking with brutal efficiency, breaking holds, driving knees into armored ribs. Even through the grainy footage, the fury in her movements was unmistakable.

Then the first Alpha operative reentered the fight. The hidden camera shook slightly as someone struck the wall beneath it. Static rolled across the feed. For two full seconds the image distorted into fractured lines and digital interference.

When the picture returned, Elora was on one knee. Blood streaked the corner of her mouth, but she still refused to stay down. She surged upward again, tackling one attacker into the sparring barrier with enough force to crack the paneling. The gym lights flickered violently. The Alpha team responded without hesitation.

One operative pinned her arms while another drove a crushing blow into her abdomen. A third struck the back of her legs, forcing her to the floor at last. Even then, Elora continued struggling to break free.
The camera watched everything.

Cold.

Detached.

Unblinking.

As the four Alpha operatives surrounded the fallen lieutenant, the surveillance feed glitched once more, the timestamp freezing briefly before the recording abruptly terminated into static. A simple message briefly flashed across the static then.

=They had disabled the security feed in the gym. I do not normally share my information freely. I thought you might want to have this for your records so you can decide how to proceed with the situation. I look forward to working together in the future. Now go give em hell Tiger.=

There was no signature. Nothing to identify who had brought it or recorded it.

The once graceful lines that S'earr's fur was known for were instead contorted in a wild flurry of new angles brought on by almost a feral rage. Training and control were the only two factors stopping him in place.

Then the door chimed and as if summoned second Lt. Elora D'Tan had entered his office. Her face looked grave as she came to attention and saluted as was customary. "Boss? Sir, Do you have a moment to talk?" She asked. To her credit her eyes betrayed nothing, nor her voice.

Tradition kicked in, his features smoothed, he stood, afforded Elora the same bow all females are. She was just the person he wanted to see, at the right time too. "Please, sit."

Elora was thankful for the invitation and gratefully took a seat in one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. "Thank you." She said the relief obvious in her face. "I need to report on several of our service members."

"Yes, I am sure you do." Hinting that perhaps S'earr was aware of what happened. "I would like names." He wanted to put an end to this incident, not because of the paperwork involved but because action like this needed to be rooted out and ended swiftly.

She reached a trembling hand into her over coat and pulled out the data pad containing the names and service jackets of the four men who had attacked her. She hadn't missed his tone and she swallowed hard. She had talked with Taren in length about what she should do. Once the anger had faded and the fear had begun to dig in, she knew she had to say something. What was to stop them from doing this to someone else? She had a responsibility to every marine here to keep them safe to the best of her ability. Men like this were a liability and needed to be taken care of. They had made their choice when they attacked her and by extenction had made her choice now. "At 1700 hours yesterday I was attacked by these four men in the athletics room on Marine deck one. I have a medical log of the injuries received from their actions filed with Doctor Ross. I know I should have come to you sooner."

S'earr took the information. "Did they give reason or motive for their actions?" He knew what he was going to do, he just wanted confirmation of information before he acted, though even still, the black lines in his fur shifted, his anger proving difficult to restrain.

"They requested that I step down as the MXO. They believe my promotion was a clerical error. When I refused to agree with them, they became violent." Elora stated and hated the slight quiver in her voice as she spoke, talking about it brought it back, the fear, the confusion, the betrayal and pain. She tightened her jaw trying to hold back the angry tears that threatened to fall. She would cry here. God help her. Not here. She hadn't hardly slept at all even with Taren doing his best to comfort her, she had been afraid to close her eyes in case they might have tried again. Her mind refused to relax. It had stuck in survival mode. It was part of what had convinced her to report it. She couldn't live like this. Couldn't command like this.

S'earr stood up, he tapped his console to bring up an video of the sparring floor. "I'd like you to wait here, and observe." S'earr knew what he was going to do. The marines were supposed to be a team, each marine has the back of the one beside them but this would not stand, not on his watch, not ever in his eyes. The S'earr left his office towards the main floor area.

"Aye sir." She stayed as ordered and her eyes took in the scene. The sight of the mat made her heart rate jump a bit, sweat beadied on her brow. She watched though.

The gymnasium had fallen silent long before the first blow was thrown.

Word had spread quickly through the Marine detachment that the Commanding Officer had summoned two of the four Marines involved in the assault on Lieutenant Rykov. No one knew precisely why. Some expected disciplinary proceedings. Others anticipated a lecture.

The two Marines stood opposite one another in training gear, exchanging uncertain glances as the towering white-furred Caitian entered without ceremony.

First Lieutenant S'earr crossed the mat with measured, unhurried steps.

His golden eyes settled on each Marine in turn.

"You assaulted an officer." His voice was calm, there was no anger, no raised volume.

Only quiet certainty.

"You outnumbered her." The words lingered. "You mistook numbers for strength." Neither Marine spoke. S'earr removed his duty jacket and folded it neatly over the edge of the observation railing before rolling each shoulder once. "I intend to correct that misunderstanding." S'earr inserted.

One of the Marines frowned.

"You will attack together."

Both Marines looked genuinely confused. "With respect, sir..."

"You heard the order." S'earr stepped onto the centre of the mat and assumed a relaxed stance, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. "I will not repeat it." They separated, instinctively attempting to flank him. S'earr did not move, he simply watched.

The first Marine lunged, fast, aggressive, predictable. The Caitian pivoted with astonishing speed. A single sidestep carried him outside the attack, one massive forearm redirecting the incoming strike before his opposite palm drove squarely into the Marine's chest.

The impact sent the Marine skidding several metres across the mat. He hit the deck hard, his breath stolen instantly. Before he could recover, the second attacker closed the distance.

A hook toward S'earr's ribs. The Caitian absorbed it but he was far from done. His head turned slightly to acknowledge the strike. Then his elbow snapped backward with surgical precision into the Marine's sternum. Air exploded from the younger Marine's lungs as he folded instinctively.

S'earr's open hand followed, guiding rather than striking, using his opponent's momentum to send him crashing shoulder-first onto the padded floor.

Neither Marine stayed down. This time they coordinated.

S'earr finally moved in earnest.

His towering frame flowed with surprising economy, each motion deliberate, each step wasting nothing. He slipped between them before either realized the opening existed. A forearm deflected one strike while his tail shifted his balance just enough to evade the second.

A knee found one Marine's abdomen. A shoulder check drove the other backward. The exchange lasted seconds. Both attackers found themselves on the mat again.

Bruised. Breathing heavily. Still determined.

S'earr nodded once. "Better."

They came again. The next exchange was fiercer. One Marine managed to drive a solid punch into S'earr's jaw. The crack echoed through the gymnasium.

Several observers stiffened.

The Caitian's head turned slightly from the impact. He blinked once. Then looked back at the Marine. "Good." It was the only acknowledgment he offered even as he tasted blood in his mouth.

The second attacker seized the opportunity, driving forward and catching S'earr across the ribs with a powerful body shot.

The blow landed cleanly. Another would have staggered but his sheer size and mass held him solid. S'earr merely took one measured step backward before advancing again. This time there was no hesitation. He closed the distance before either Marine could reset. His strikes remained controlled, each one delivered with the precision expected of a master instructor rather than the fury of a man seeking revenge.

A sweeping leg sent one Marine sprawling. The other attempted a desperate tackle. S'earr lowered his centre of gravity, caught the charging Marine beneath one arm and redirected him effortlessly into the mat with a controlled throw that shook the deck plating beneath them.

S'earr then placed his hands on thier chest and using claws, drove them into uniform and skin alike. The fight was over, now he'd make it clear. He could feel the wet slick fluid of blood in the palm of his hands. "You fought as though strength was measured by violence."

He allowed the silence to settle. "Four Marines against one officer."

His gaze hardened, not with rage but there certianly was anger, but disappointment. "That was not strength." He spoke. "It was cowardice."

"When Lieutenant Rykov wears those rank pips..." He growled. "...she carries the authority of this command and when you assaulted her, you struck every marine in this unit." S'earr applied some weight to the pressure he was imposing upon the chests of the two marines under his hands. "A mistake assaulting one of my officers, as such you are not longer officers." He leaned low, using the two marines for a little weighted support. "Do not delude yourself that you have strength, I....have strength...and I have eaten bigger and more dangerous foes than you....."

Without another word, the Caitian stood and tapped his badge twice. A screen lit up showing the assault on his Exec, two of the culprits laying on the training mat. He collected his jacket and walked from the gymnasium, leaving behind a room full of Marines who understood that morning that their Commanding Officer did not lead through intimidation alone, but through unwavering standards, discipline, and example.

===


Elora Rykov stood motionless before the holo-screen in S’earr’s office, arms folded tightly across her chest as the recording played out in cold clarity.

She felt strangely detached from it all. The gymnasium. The shouting. The violence.

The men who had cornered her the previous night now lying breathless beneath the massive Caitian officer.

Justice should have felt satisfying.

Instead, it felt distant. Numbness had settled over her sometime during the night and refused to leave.

Beside her, the office remained quiet except for the low ambient hum of the ship and the occasional crackle from the projector. Only two of the four Marines had appeared when summoned. Two had apparently run. That alone told Elora everything she needed to know about them.

On the screen, the crack of a Marine’s fist against S’earr’s jaw echoed sharply through the gymnasium. Several spectators visibly recoiled from the impact.
S’earr barely moved.

Elora watched the moment his eyes lifted back toward the Marine.

“Good.”

The single word carried more weight than shouting ever could.

The second exchange came faster.

Cleaner.

Brutal in its efficiency.

S’earr dismantled them with terrifying control, every strike measured precisely to dominate rather than destroy. There was no recklessness in him. No loss of discipline. Only certainty. And that somehow made it more intimidating.

When the two Marines hit the deck for the final time, silence had spread throughout the gym like a shockwave. Even through the recording Elora could feel it , that sudden realization among the gathered Marines that they were not witnessing a brawl.

They were witnessing judgment.

The claws drew blood.

Not enough to kill.

Just enough to remind.

Several Marines in the background looked physically ill as S’earr spoke down to the men pinned beneath him.
“You fought as though strength was measured by violence.”
The gym remained deathly quiet.

Elora’s jaw tightened slightly as she watched the faces around the room. Disgust. Shame. Anger.

Not at S’earr. At the attackers.

Especially when he spoke her name.

“When Lieutenant Rykov wears those rank pips… she carries the authority of this command.”

That changed the room.

The spectators no longer looked at the two men as fellow Marines who had simply crossed a line in a fight. They looked at them like traitors to the uniform itself.

Eight Marines wearing Alpha Team armbands stood clustered near the back of the gym. Their expressions had gone pale with disbelief as the truth settled over them. One woman removed her armband entirely during the speech, clenching it tightly in her fist without a word.

No one helped the fallen men when S’earr finally released them.

No one spoke in their defense.

Most of the Marines simply turned and followed their commanding officer out of the gym in silence, the atmosphere heavy with shame and simmering outrage.

Others stopped as S’earr passed. Salutes followed him. Sharp. Respectful. Earned.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

The words repeated quietly from different voices as he crossed the deck toward the exit.

Not praise for violence.

Gratitude for defending one of their own.

Elora stared at the frozen holo-image after the recording finally ended.

The gym stood still on the screen. The two disgraced Marines remained on the mat, bleeding and abandoned while the rest of the battalion walked away from them.

Word would already be spreading across the Marine decks.

By evening every Marine aboard the ship would know exactly what had happened. And more importantly They would know exactly where their Commanding Officer stood.

===

The doors to S'earr's office opened and the towering Caitian walked in, jacket hanging over his arm, a faint tinge of red in the corner of the mouth, not from the punch, his own teeth cutting the inside of his cheek did more damage.

For a moment he'd almost forgot about Elora sat in his office, fighting back the growl that almost teetered in spilling as the doors closed behind him.

"You saw?" S'earr spoke walking to a cabinet, his back to her, using wipes to clean his claws from the blood that caked them.

Elora had turned to him when he entered. "Aye Sir, I did." She said softly. She stood up and gave him a salute. "Thank you, sir." She stated it was hard to keep the emotion out of her voice. She was proud of him, Proud to serve under him,

"I want the other two. Find them, bring them to me." S'earr had finished wiping his claws, using a cloth next to wipe the corner of his mouth. "Use who you need to, but I want those two found." There was an edge to his voice that suggested that he cared little if it meant tearing every hull plate off the ship, every crawl space inspected, every junction checked...he wanted those two.

"Have those two in the gym taken to Sickbay for treatment, then to the Brig for holding."

"Aye sir, right away sir." Elora responded. She took his words as a dismissal and headed off to do as ordered. No questions, just action and results.

[OFF]

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