“The only alternative to coexistence is codestruction.”

Jawaharlal Nehru, (1954)

It was a city of the dead and had been so for nearly ten thousand years.

Once the vibrant metropolis nearly spanning the circumference of the entire planet, the fabulous, eponymous “Girdle – City” was akin to a mammoth bejeweled belt that encapsulated the entire equator of Hecate#7b.

Near-continuous, it was broken only here and there in places by deep canal – passages that permitted the great megaships that had once plied their passage between the mighty nation – states of the northern and southern hemispheres.

A continuous city of endless Stratoscrapers brushing the clouds, hundreds of miles wide and some 278976.87 miles in circumference, this was the meeting ground and melting pot for the two distinct, but unified cultures that predominated the planet in it’s heyday. It was a place of beautiful art, meaningful culture, critical sociological thought and high technology – the veritable jewel in Hecate’s crown.

Yet, as with all ascendant societies, the steady upward arc of progress trended and tended towards a plateau that would eventually lead to economic stalemate and cultural stagnation. The growth of technology, globalization, and consumer culture all intertwined to create a complex web of desire, consumption, and ultimately, overconsumption. This phenomenon was not merely a local issue but fast became a global concern that affected the planet and all its inhabitants.

This excessive consumption occurred at individual, societal, and global level, leading to a confluence of environmental, social, and economic issues that saw the once unified peoples of Hecate#7b fragment and divide as civil unrest was fomented, driven by the increasing scarcity of materials and assets and the discord that arose from the ‘have-nots’ coveting that which the ‘haves’ jealously hoarded.

As the twin drivers of globalization and technological advancements pushed aside concerns around environmental impacts in the ever – increasing need to satisfy consumer culture, the unfettered extraction of resources lead to mass deforestation, loss of biodiversity, and the depletion of natural reserves. Consumer goods, particularly electronics and fad fashions, generated substantial waste, with much of it ending up in landfills or polluting the struggling oceans.

The uneven distribution of consumption exacerbated socioeconomic inequalities. The wealthier Northern Compact exploited resources of the poorer Southern Alliance without giving back, contributing to a spiral of poverty, mass unemployment, and lack of access to basic needs in those areas.

By the time the first food – riots began to tear at the fabric of the Girdle-city, the cascading effects of a biosphere in critical failure & unable to support the demand on the food – chain were all but ignored by society as the mailed – fist of martial law fell upon the populace and the political fissure between north and south grew even more fractured, until the socio-economic pressures built to such a point as to be irreversible.

No one knows who fired the first shots in the devastating civil war that eventuated from this complete disintegration of social order and, a the end of a conflict that lasted 300 years, none were left alive to tell that ignominious tale of woe.

As the environment was systematically degraded and destroyed by the effects of rampant consumerism and technological advancement, mass starvation accounted for the first mega-deaths. People died by their millions from the effects or malnutrition , communicable disease and pandemic. As desperation grew amongst those that survived, the same technology that had elevated their society became the instrument of their ruin.

Thermonuclear strikes scoured the surface of the world, blasting the Girdle-City and poisoning the land and oceans for generations that would not come. In time the warring powers of the Compact and Alliance switched to Neutron – based weapons in an attempt to minimize the environmental impacts of their apocalypse whilst maximizing the death – count, but this soon proved too-little, too-late and with the collective mania that accompanies mutually – assured destruction, both parties abandoned all reason and threw every resource at their disposal into the annihilation of the other.

Decades of ambivalent – attrition gradually took its toll on the soldiery, use of chemical, biological and even mutagenic weapons ensuring that  casualties quickly exceeded each pacts’ ability to raise and train new combatants to act as fodder for the mill of war. Tentative forays into the field of cloning showed early promise, but the pace at which hidden and hardened research facilities were located and destroyed by each side soon saw both nations turn to the more traditional and easier to sustain technology of mechanization.

The very air became as poison, the churning seas evaporating acid rains into raging storm clouds, the land glowing with the half – life of eternal death.

Soon the seemingly eternal war was one that evolved to be fought at removes, with the remaining high command from both factions safely ensconced in heavily fortified command and control facilities buried at each respective planetary poles, commanding vast armies of increasingly sophisticated militarized drones and then autonomous weapons systems that roamed the devastated Girdle – city, hunting each other and what few people remained in the shattered ruins of the dream.

At the apex of this chain of destruction stalked the Hunter/Killer.

Standing some twenty-two feet from the ground and born by six powerful, articulated armored legs, the Hunter/Killer was a class of drone so perfectly evolved to prosecute a war that persisted without leaders.

Atop it’s central chassis, it’s upper superstructure was little more than a wedgelike rhomboid of turret, comprehensively clad in reactive armor plating and cosseted in filmy-layers of powerful protective energy fields, the main purpose of its sophisticated sensory – packages were to transport and orientate the massive-barreled fusion cannon to bear on whatever was left moving in the dead city.

In time, the Generals were forced to entrust the majority of strategic planning and the execution of tactical engagements to the care of artificial intelligence, as the rate and duration of encounters between opposing forces now far – outstripped the capacity for an organic brain to keep pace with the maelstrom of destruction that played out over what remained of their world.

It is thought that it was a machine – mind that final brought about the alpha – strike that finally achieved the total annihilation of the Southern Alliance’s polar bunker, technically ending the war, but that was impossible to truly known as the Northern Compacts own general – staff had perished some years before and the conflict raged on for nearly another hundred years as the forgotten automatons sought each other out, slowly destroying each other in grim parody of the folly of their makers until silence settled on the bones of the world for good.

Now, the only movement that occurred in the shattered megacity was that of the horrendous storms that would rise up and be driven by the capricious pressure systems that the tortured world would conjure at random, the only sound the roar of the toxic wind and the displacement of the remains of shattered architecture as it succumbed to decay and the sting of acid rain.

It was into one such storm that a miasma of swirling golden entries swirled into being, contesting with the protestations of a haze of deadly dust, as the away team from the USS Kirk slowly materialized into being, in the midst of what had once been a lively open public square.

Instinctively, Lieutenant Commander Lane Hanley and her five companions sunk to their knees and raised their hands to cover the protective faceplates of their EVA suits, as they were assailed by a stinging torrent of oil, dark gritted particles that effectively blotted out visual sight for more than a few feet.

Inside her suit helmet, multiple alarms were sounding out and the HUD projected onto the inner surface of the faceplate was urgently attempting to draw the attention of the suit’s inhabitants to multiple hazardous sensor returns, even as the suits onboard CPU’s made a ‘captain’s call’’ and automatically slid down a protective armored blast plate to cover the glassteel of the helmet’s clear visor.

The HUD in the helmets switched to electromagnetic imaging to compensate for the hail of debris that Lane could feel impacting the front of her suit from head to toe, as the howling gale drove fine particles against it. The suit’s LIDAR was effectively confounded by the overwhelming amount of returns that the airborne dust was creating, so Hanley turned the device to standby.

++ Silica Storm.++

Her faceplate was illuminated with a message from Chief Harvey. The ferocity of the storm was such that the security chief, who the EM-imager told her was crouched just two feet to her right, was unable to send verbally via standard comms. Instead, Lucius was holding her glove with his , forming a direct touch – data link to be able to communicate.

++ We have to get out of here and take shelter – immediate.++

Lane agreed wholeheartedly.

The pervading storm had lifted up clouds of silicate that had once been the constituent material from the shattered buildings of the necropolis around them, conjuring up a whirling dervish of abrasive destruction that was even now scouring at the protective fastness of their suits.

<<Suit Integrity at 92%>> a calm voice chimed in her ear, as the EVA suit confirmed the slow attrition of its seals and re-enforced plating by the sandblasting storm.

To lose integrity meant being exposed to the murderous conditions that ruled the Hellworld. To lose your suit was death.

++Actual. Copy that.++

Lane subvocalized and added,

++Daisy-chain. Head directly north. We’ll make for the edge of the plaza.++

In short order the away team linked hands, Chief Harvey remained holding Lane’s glove to maintain the link as he took point and she reached out to hold the hand of Specialist Lin, the medic who had volunteered to accompany the expedition to rescue the presumed survivors from the RRN Selquar. Lin took the hand of Petty Officer Maylen, lead NCO of the security detail, who firmly grasped the arm on Ensign Phorrel (it had been impossible to dissuade the eager young CSO from the chance to discover the secrets of the Hellworld, despite the obvious dangers) who clung to Crewman Alba who brought up the rear.

Thus the 6 members of the away team made their slow and difficult progress in the blinding grit of the storm, as they attempted to navigate towards the edge of the vast plaza, navigating with some difficulty the topography of ruin and debris that obscured their progress – the wreckage of the upper level of one of the skeletal Stratoscrapers that collapsed to ground – zero long ago.

It was with a considerable sense of relief that the team eventually skirted the last mesa of debris and clambered gratefully into the lee of a structure that managed to protect Hanley and her team from the worst effects of the destructive storm.

<<Suit Integrity at 87%>> Her suit warned, as Lane looked around her to gauge her surroundings. The team had found shelter beneath a heavily corroded structure that was festooned with a riotous tangle of hanging moss that glowed faintly with an eerie irradiated-glow. Lane thought absently that any flora stubborn enough to persist in such conditions had earned its right to be there and was welcome to it.

Huddled behind a towering pillar, the silica storm cleaved either side the structure, which arched yup to meet the roof of what may have been a pagoda or a piece of public art. Despite the temporary respite from the howling winds, it was difficult to say.

Thankfully, this also served to resume comms, so Lane ungripped her team-mate’s hand and sent to Orvid.

=^=“Ensign Phorrel. Can you get a fix on the emergency transponder?”=^= Whilst her resolve to mount a rescue attempt for those that she presumed had survived the destruction of the Romulan Republic science vessel at the hands of their antagonists aboard the unnamed Free States Warbird, Hanley was keenly aware of how perilous this undertaking was. A fact that was being rammed home by the unsubtle – storm.

She was able to ascertain which suited figure held the USS Kirk’s Chief Science Officer, not only because of the illuminating ident – icon that her EVA suit furnished her with, but that the Denobulan’s slight frame was as equally distinctive.

As Phorrel cringed against the storm, he cradled his Tricorder protectively as it sought to triangulate the weak signal from the automated beacon that they were hoping belonged to the surviving crew of the Selquar.

When Orvid replied, his voice quavered slightly and he sounded out of breath, reminding Hanley of his relative youth and inexperience in this sort of hostile environment.

A Hellworld took a lot of getting used to.

=^= “The storm is generating a lot of background noise, Captain, but the best fix I can get on the signal suggests that it is emanating from a point north/northwest of here. Somewhere within a 3 km radius.” =^= The scientists reported over the shared channel.

Lane nodded to herself and sent back.

=^= “Copy that. We may be able to get a clearer reading if we can get out of this storm entirely. Chief Harvey. Assign a detail to move out and recce the immediate area. We need to find somewhere that affords better protection and get the lay of the land.”=^=

As with Ensign Phorrel’s slight frame, there was no mistaking the imposing bulk of Lieutenant Harvey as the powerful security chief crouched in the lee of the pillar, using the stock of his Phaser – rifle as a rest.

=^=”Maylen. Take Alba and perform a perimeter – sweep.”=^= Harvey’s deep baritone rumbled over the channel. =^=”Candidates for a forward base of operations. Sitrep callback every 5.”=^= the big man commanded confidently. Evidently it took more than a murderous storm in the heart of a dead city to shake the Chief.

As the security NCO and rating hefted their weapons and struck out to perform their reconnaissance, the two figures were swiftly lost in the haze, as if the storm itself was a living thing and had gobbled the two men up. Lane could see their transponders as twin green icons, moving steadily on the map overlay on her faceplate HUD.

<<Suit Integrity at 87%>> the suit chimed. At least this partial cover had slowed the rate of damage to their suits. Hanley prayed that the security team would swiftly locate a more suitable vantage point from which to execute their extraction.”

She settled on her haunches, her back against the corroded pillar, grateful for the brief respite. It was almost impossible to prepare for every eventuality, especially in an environment as lethal as that of a Hellworld, but Lane reflected that it would be extremely ironic if her mission failed in the first few minutes due to the weather.

=^=“Hell of a place.”=^= Specialist Lin sent. The slim nurse was a qualified field – medic and Hanley had been glad that she had volunteered for the mission. With the surviving Romulans being stranded on the surface of Hecate#7b for many days, it was unclear what condition they would be in. Almost certainly they would need stabilization in the field before transport back to the Kirk for treatment.

=^= “It’s not without it’s charms.”=^= Ensign Phorrel replied with surprising optimism. =^= “Academically – speaking, of course.”=^=

Chief Harvey shook his head at this and rumbled sarcastically over the channel.

=^=”I’m thinking about buying a holiday house here.”=^=

Lane smiled to herself in the confines of her suit. That her team could display such dismissive humour in the face of such adversity said much about their resolve and moral. In that moment she felt like they could weather not only this storm, but whatever challenges this God – forsaken place may throw at them.

=^=”Maylen to Chief Harvey.”=^= Came a communique from the security detachment.  Lane could see that the two men had ranged around the permitter to the square, some 400 meters to her right and paused.

=^= “Go for the Chief.”=^= Lucius rumbled back.

=^=”Alba’s found the entrance to some sort of underpass or service tunnel, Sir.”=^= the Petty Officer reported.=^= “It’s partially obstructed with debris, but I think we should be able to clear it with our Phasers.”=^=

Chief Harvey looked to the CO and Lane nodded her approval. Any alternative was preferable to remaining exposed to the eviscerating storm.

=^=”Copy that. Proceed to clear. We’re moving to your position. Harvey out.”=^=

Glad to be moving again, Lane rose to her feat and prepared to order the away team back into action when the ground shook from a sudden, deep tremor, that sent hanging moss and a haze of dust falling from the roof above them.

As quickly as it had come on, the tremor resided.

=^=”What the hell was that?! An earthquake?”=^= Came Maylen’s panicked response from across the plaza.

=^=“Hold position!”=^= Hanley barked over the comm and gestured for the members of the team around her to do the same. =^= Ensign, report!=^=

Orvid swept his Tricorder around in a slow circle, intent on his helmet HUD to understand what the display was telling him.

=^=”I’m not reading any seismic activity, Ma’am.”=^= Phorrel reported with a curious tone. =^=”Perhaps it’s the result of the collapse of some subterranean structure? Time and degradation must have rendered the surrounding built-environment highly unstable.”=^=

Before Lane could answer him the tremor returned, stronger this time, it seemed to run up her very arm as she stumbled and put her hand up to steady herself against the rust – pitted pillar.

More dirt and debris cascaded from above and Lane was suddenly worried that the structure above them would collapse.

=^= Everybody out!=^= The CO roared, her voice impossibly loud inside her helmet. =^=”Make for the tunnel! GO!GO! GO!’’=^=

What happened next seemed to be reduced to a progression of fleeting impressions, playing out in Lane’s recollection like the flitting images projected by some monstrous zoetrope.

The buffeting sting as she stepped back out into the sear of the silicate – storm.

Ensign Phorrel clamoring over the shared comm – channel. Shouting about energy – readings.

<<Suit Integrity at 81%>>

Chief Harvey diving into a forward roll as the ground shuddered and a rain of wreckage fell from above, dislodged from the top of the structure.

Specialist Lin’s agonized cry as the pillar she was sheltering behind seemed to collapse. NO! The pillar raised itself upwards (impossibly) in the air and came slamming down upon the unfortunate medic with tremendous force, her scream abruptly ceasing as it drove her body into the floor of the plaza, concrete and dust flying in all directions, along with a fine spray of her viscera.

The sound of Phaser – fire stinging out from the perimeter of the square as Maylen and Alba fired back at them.

The roof above her starting to move, the dull shadows shifting as she looked up in horror, uncomprehending at the sight her eyes were taking in.

Slowly, impossibly, the structure was beginning to move of its own volition. The thundering tremors increasing as it groaned and creaked with a terrible, methodical implacable will.

<<Suit Integrity at 79%>>

Her eyes widened in shock as the top of the structure traversed towards the phaser-fire, a vast vaguely-cylindrical object protruding from its edge, slewing around in a fine shower of rust, it’s very end beginning to spark and glitter with a faint bluish light.

A thunderous detonation from above, the output of which drove her bodily down into the dust as it vented.

A massive, catastrophic explosion blossomed to life in the direction of the security detail, a hail of masonry and dust as the building there collapsed downwards, level upon ancient level impacting each other as they fell.

After millennia of dreamless slumber, the Hunter/Killer had awoken.